Chapter 137 "Two Descendants"

　　From Prand and the Lensa City-State northward, beyond the bustling "Great Cross Route" of merchants, a cold aura eternally lingered over the sea area known as the "Frigid Sea." Under the influence of this seemingly never-ending mysterious cold air, the entire Frigid Sea exhibited a different appearance than other places.

　　Here, the seawater presented a distinct, deep texture compared to the warm seas. Small, fragmented ice floes frequently appeared where currents and islands intersected, and mysterious giant icebergs periodically rose from beneath the sea's surface, transforming into temporary barriers or mobile landmasses. These served as markers or emergency shelters for some sailors who made their living in the Frigid Sea. Furthermore, various mysterious cold fogs, ice winds, and phantom light phenomena were unique features of this frigid sea, bringing countless bizarre legends, so much so that the two main city-states on this sea, Frost Harbor and Cold Port, were shrouded in mystery.

　　But compared to the giant icebergs that could be controlled according to规律 and the extraordinary phenomena that mostly existed only in legends, the captains who made their living in the Frigid Sea most often talked about the terrifying fleet that had been active since half a century ago—the Sea Fog Fleet, led by Tirian Abnormaal, son of Duncan Abnormaal, whose influence radiated to one-third of the Frigid Sea's shipping lanes. This fleet was a real existence yet entwined with countless illusory colors.

　　On the edge of a hidden island, sealed off by special currents and a thick fog barrier, a steel warship with an iron-gray coating, rigid lines, and a towering bow was quietly docked in a shipyard. Quartermasters and sailors were busily adding fuel and replenishing fresh water and ammunition to the warship.

　　Anyone with even a slight understanding of the history of the Aiden City-State who stood there would undoubtedly notice at first glance that these sailors were still wearing Aiden naval uniforms from half a century ago, and would notice the white emblems on their shoulders or chests—in Aiden tradition, this was a symbol of mourning.

　　In the captain's cabin on the lower level of the warship, a woman wearing a white naval overcoat was reviewing a document.

　　The woman was thin, with a high nose bridge and deep-set eyes. Her short white hair was messy and neat, and her right eye was covered with a white eye patch made of some unknown leather. This almost stereotypical pirate eye patch made her already gloomy face appear even more sinister, and the contours of her eyebrows vaguely resembled those of the "Ghost Captain" who struck terror into the hearts of the world.

　　A small, brightly colored parrot perched on a wooden frame in the distance, intently staring at a brass device next to the slender woman—this device was a set of precise and complex lenses, surrounded by a circle of rocker arms and large lenses, with a small crystal ball in the center. It looked extremely luxurious and filled with a mysterious atmosphere.

　　The slender woman didn't even raise her head. "Polly, if you touch it, I'll send you to the Radiant Star for the next month to keep those puppets and ghosts company."

　　"Ah, cruel!" the small parrot immediately shrieked, shaking the wooden frame. "Ah, cruel! Tirian is a cruel captain!"

　　"...I really should find out which bastard taught him that line," Tirian Abnormaal frowned. "Can't you say something else?"

　　The small parrot proudly flapped its wings. "Polly learned it himself! Polly learned it himself!"

　　Tirian rubbed his forehead. "Damn it, and that line too..."

　　Just then, a knock suddenly came from the side, interrupting the exchange between Tirian and the parrot.

　　"Come in," Tirian said, turning his head.

　　The large door of the captain's cabin opened, and a tall, bald man walked in.

　　His skin was pale, as pale as a long-dead corpse, and his eyes were filled with an eternal, clear haze. A faint smell of the sea permeated his surroundings, mixed with a kind of chilling aura as if from a tomb...

　　A walking corpse, a lingering undead.

　　Tirian looked at the "living dead" walking into the room. "Lielie, how much fuel has been added?"

　　"It's about to begin, Captain," the tall, bald man called Lielie lowered his head slightly. His voice was hoarse and rough, and a faint, hot white mist escaped from his mouth and nose as he spoke. "The boilers are already preheating."

　　"Very good," Tirian nodded slightly. "Any movement from Cold Port?"

　　"As quiet as a stone," Lielie's tone carried a hint of respect. "They don't dare to offend our territory—not even if only half the Sea Fog Fleet remains in the Frost Sea. Those cowards don't have the courage to cross the shipping lanes."

　　"They are very smart, very capable of accurately calculating the gains and losses between interests, just like half a century ago," Tirian laughed. "Then go make preparations. We will depart on time."

　　"Yes, Captain."

　　The first mate, radiating an aura of icy death, pushed open the door and left the room, and Tirian's gaze gradually returned.

　　His first mate was a "living dead," and in fact, apart from him, the "immortal," all the members of the Sea Fog Fleet were this kind of "living dead" between the living and the dead.

　　His loyal subordinates had dutifully served in this fleet for half a century.

　　In a sense, he himself, the guy who couldn't die because of the subspace curse, was no different from his crew members.

　　Tirian shook his head, and just then, the brass device placed next to his hand suddenly made a mechanical whirring sound—he looked over and saw the complex rocker arms and lenses slowly moving and combining, focusing their focus on the crystal ball in the center of the device according to a specific pattern. The next second, the crystal ball emitted a faint glow, and a blurred image emerged from it.

　　A young woman with long, straight white hair, wearing a white silk dress, and delicate features tinged with a touch of cool mystery emerged from the crystal ball—and behind this woman, one could vaguely see many automatically operating magic mechanisms, as well as floating, sparkling phosphorescent lights.

　　"Lucretia," Tirian glanced at the woman in the crystal ball and nodded slightly. "I didn't expect you to remember to send a greeting before your brother set off on an expedition."

　　The young woman in the crystal ball was about to speak, but was stunned when she heard Tirian's words. "You're leaving today?"

　　Tirian frowned. "...You didn't send a greeting because I'm leaving today?!"

　　"No," the woman in the crystal ball, with a magician-like mysterious aura, shook her head frankly. "My deep-sea exploration device exploded."

　　Tirian's mouth twitched, and then he heard his sister continue, "Everything else is easy to fix, but the core crystal lens can't be replaced."

　　Tirian continued expressionlessly.

　　"Don't you have any new ones over there? I'll trade you border minerals and samples."

　　"...The spirit world lenses that meet your precision requirements can only be produced by two city-states. The main trading channels are controlled by the Academy of Truth, and the number that can circulate outside is very, very, very... limited," Tirian finally couldn't help but sigh. "Only two months have passed since you last broke your exploration device..."

　　"I found a very interesting sample, possibly drifting up from the Abyssal Sea," Lucretia said.

　　"...Samples from the Abyssal Sea are no good either, although those things can indeed be sold to the Academy of Truth..."

　　"I also collected phantoms left over from the border collapse."

　　"This isn't..." Tirian covered his forehead in a headache. "The main thing is that I really don't know where to find a new set of lenses for you..."

　　Lucretia thought for a moment. "Robbery?"

　　"I can't always rely on robbery," Tirian sighed. "The Sea Fog Fleet is preparing for formalized operations. We mainly rely on collecting protection fees now..."

　　"Oh, never mind then," Lucretia finally shrugged. The first half of her sentence relieved Tirian, but the second half made the famous pirate leader's heart clench again. "Then I'll ask again tomorrow."

　　"You... forget it, I can't stop your exploration plan," Tirian finally sighed helplessly (he really didn't know how many sighs he had sighed in those short few minutes). "Tell me about your situation, my 'admirable' little explorer sister... You wander all day at the edge of the civilized world, have you really discovered any signs that our world is heading towards its end?"

　　"I can hear your teasing, brother," Lucretia said expressionlessly. "You have always dismissed my sense of urgency and have never even truly cared about what I have discovered at the border. I can understand that you are focused on more practical matters, so I am even more grateful that you still provide me with assistance to the best of your ability despite not understanding. But you must not forget our father... the warning he once gave."

　　"...Our world is just a pile of dying embers..." Tirian leaned back in his chair, saying softly as if sighing. "I still don't know what exactly he saw that day, but there's an obvious fact that he was already insane when he made that warning—and you are repeating what I once did, even trying to uncover the truth that drove me mad in the process."

　　Tirian shook his head and looked seriously at the figure in the crystal ball. "Lucretia, one Lost Country is already exciting enough in this world."