Chapter 188: The Sea Witch’s Excavation Plan

When it came to the “Great Squid,” even the sea witches themselves couldn’t say exactly what it was.

Their memories of the ancient forced landing were already hazy. Though they were immortal elemental beings, some events from so long ago had faded from their minds. But one thing was certain: ever since they crash-landed in this world with solid landmasses, the “Great Squid” had already existed beneath the waves.

It was the remains of a creature far older than even the ancient era—a carcass so massive that its surviving tentacles sprawled across the seabed like mountain ranges. The sheer scale of its body stunned the sea witches at first, filling them with dread for a long time. They feared this strange world might be teeming with such colossal, terrifying lifeforms. But soon, they realized their fears were unfounded.

The deep ocean was mostly home to primitive creatures weaker than themselves. The “Great Squid” was the only exception—and it was already dead.

The “Great Squid” had been killed by some external force, as evidenced by its shattered remains and the fragments of metal scattered on the seabed. But who had slain it remained a mystery. Over countless years, the sea witches searched for any trace of that powerful race, even venturing onto various continents. Yet all they found were primitive, barbaric native civilizations—none capable of oceanic navigation, let alone slaying such a beast.

After learning about the cyclical “Demonic Tides” that periodically devastated ecosystems, the sea witches gave up on hunting for that civilization. Instead, they settled into a peaceful existence in their ocean domain.

Excavating the “Great Squid” was one of their most important tasks—an essential step toward restarting the core engine. Though success still seemed far off, the sea witches were creatures indifferent to the passage of time. Like many elemental beings, they possessed boundless patience and a poor sense of time. This trait had allowed them to complete a deep-sea civilization transformation eons ago, and now it let them immerse themselves happily in their work.

The excavation team arrived at the designated site: a massive chunk of flesh and blood, torn from a tentacle, lay quietly in a deep pit on the seabed. After months of “rest cycles,” the flesh had regenerated to its original size, meaning it was ready to be excavated again.

The sea witches spread out around the tissue, driving a dozen or so force field generators deep into the seabed. Pale blue energy barriers sealed off the entire area, preventing any dangerous power leaking from the “Great Squid” from polluting the waters. Then, in groups of three, they hoisted various cutting tools and began slicing into the incredibly tough flesh.

The excavation captain patrolled the perimeter, checking that the force field generators were functioning properly. This was crucial work—these devices barely held together, plagued by strange and unpredictable malfunctions. Without careful oversight, things could easily go wrong.

Still, it was far better than years ago. More and more equipment was coming back online, even if the core engine’s restart remained a distant dream.

The captain moved to the back of the flesh mass—the next target for excavation. She leaned close to the rough, bark-like, fungus-like outer layer to inspect its regeneration.

Suddenly, the flesh writhed as if alive.

Dark red blood oozed from a wound, muscles and skin twisting and growing rapidly. They coalesced into a small tentacle, adorned with strange patterns and glowing edges, writhing wildly before the sea witch.

The patterns shimmered and twisted, constantly shifting into bizarre, unsettling shapes. Any ordinary mind would be driven mad by these designs; even the toughest mortal warriors wouldn’t emerge unscathed after staring at them.

The captain stared at the tentacle, then took a bold guess, calmly analyzing the situation. She decided to greet it.

In an instant, her body dissolved and reformed, transforming into a tentacle identical to the one before her. It writhed and curled swiftly along the seabed.

For ten minutes, an indescribable tentacle and the sea witch’s mimicry danced wildly on the ocean floor. No understanding was reached. Meanwhile, three other sea witches finishing their excavation tasks swam over.

One, carrying a shock-cutting machine, poked the mimic tentacle with her tail tip. “Captain, you said not to mess around too much with the Great Squid…”

The mimic tentacle snapped back into the captain’s form, looking a bit embarrassed. “I thought it was saying hello…”

Another sea witch wagged her tail curiously. “The Great Squid’s tentacles are always twisting and turning… what does it mean?”

“Who knows? Deep-sea scholars think it’s some kind of communication signal, but after years of decoding, no results. I suspect they’re just twisting like seaweed.”

“No, it has to be communication—we just can’t understand it,” said the one with the cutting machine seriously. “Why else would those land-dwellers get so excited when they see the tentacles? They even shout at them… That means there’s communication!”

The captain thought for a moment, flicking her serpentine tail. “Whatever. Cut this off and take it with us—since it jumped out on its own.”

The cutter activated, but before starting, the sea witch asked hopefully, “Can we eat a little of it?”

“Hmm… We’ve probably gathered enough fuel for the reactor… Fine, a little bit. But just a little!”

“Yay!”

The others cheered and rushed toward their “lunch.”

Meanwhile, at Lord Cecil’s manor, Gawain and Pittman finally wrapped up their discussion about the sea witches.

Pittman stroked his beard. “Overall, sea witches are legendary creatures with very few credible sightings. Their history predates humanity. They live in the endless eastern ocean, rarely coming ashore, and mostly avoid contact with land-dwelling races. They’re dangerous in their ocean territories and fiercely protect them. Any vessel passing through risks attack—but since all oceanic routes have been canceled, that’s no longer a concern.”

Gawain frowned, looking at a knight’s biography in his hands, sighing softly. “Legendary species… It’d be great if we could find one to communicate with. Anyway, enough about that. Have you examined the biological samples I brought back from the Kant region? Any progress?”

When leaving Kant, Gawain had taken many samples: strange flesh connected to human brains from the underground hall, dark, soft “fungal mats” on rectangular pedestals near stone pillars, and rubbings of runes carved by the Sleeper cultists on the pillars. Though the runes had been damaged by Knight Philip, there were enough pillars to piece together complete patterns.

The magical arrays were too dangerous and mysterious to study for now, but the dead flesh samples hadn’t decayed after returning to Cecil’s domain, so Pittman was tasked with researching them.

“I ran a series of tests,” Pittman nodded. “They show clear signs of magical modification, involving druidic spells. The End of All Things cult definitely had a hand in this. As you feared, they collaborate with the Sleepers in technology. If they also cooperate with the Stormborn, the threat level of these cultists is beyond what most imagine.”

“I’ve written to King Francis II, hoping my personal warning will make him more vigilant,” Gawain rubbed his temples. “My biggest worry is that the Sleepers have infiltrated many nobles. Their power is even stranger and more terrifying than the End of All Things. Once fully embedded, outsiders won’t detect them. If I hadn’t absorbed the consciousness of a Sleeper cultist, I might not have noticed anything unusual in Kant.”

“That’s the king’s problem now,” Pittman agreed. “Also, while testing the flesh, I found a clue—though all samples show magical alteration, these modifications were applied after death. That means natural prototypes exist.”

“Natural prototypes?” Gawain immediately understood. “You mean those strange tissues were modified from existing species? Are there really such bizarre creatures?”

“Yes. The soul-harvesting octopus off the Dwarf Kingdom’s western coast, the spirit-devouring beasts near Ancestor’s Peak, and several shadow and undead-related monsters. They all have advanced neural organs capable of linking to and controlling victims’ brains. I found primitive structures similar to these in your samples—they’re clearly part of the raw materials. But none of these creatures are powerful enough to connect so many humans into a ‘shared dream’ state. Their species differ too much, and normal life-cultivation magic can’t fuse them. I suspect the End of All Things cultists have made breakthroughs in life fusion, forcibly splicing these monsters together to create mass-producible functional products.”

“…It’s frustrating that these cultists hold the core technology while civilized society stagnates,” Gawain sighed. “Don’t you have any good news?”

Pittman looked a bit embarrassed. “Well, there is something, but you might not like it.”

“What?”

“The meat tastes pretty good when braised…”

“Ugh—”

(End of chapter)