Chapter 321 – Process Twenty-Two

Chapter 321: Process Twenty-Two
The last corridor leading to the mechanical compartment was stuffy and dim, the distracting mechanical vibrations and roars were endless as if they were trying to penetrate one’s brain marrow, and the lights on the walls seemed to have encountered unstable airflow problems, the flames in the lampshades shaking and flickering.

But all of these were no match for the oppression brought on by the growing sense of dissonance and tension, and the dizziness caused by the gradual tearing apart of the mind.

Belazov controlled his steps, controlled his expression.

The closer he got to the deepest part of the Sea Petrel, the more he kept his steps steady and his expression as calm as usual.

There were crew members stopping to talk in the corridors, wearing odd leather …… “tunics” with folds of skin piled on top of their faces and voices that sounded like buzzing noises.

Belazov walked toward them, his mind telling him that the crewmen were soldiers under his own command, but he couldn’t recall the men’s names.

“General?” A soldier greeted him, looking at Belazov curiously, “What are your orders?”

“Just here to check on the machinery bay,” Belazov responded to the unfamiliar soldier with a calm expression, “Stay at your posts.”

The soldier watched him, then saluted and stepped back, “Yes, General.”

Belazov passed through the men, taking smooth as usual steps, he could feel the soldiers’ eyes lingering on him for a moment, but quickly shifted away.

Were they really his own soldiers? Were they really the occupants of the Petrel? Were they that which was hidden? Or perhaps some sort of minions? Have they noticed? Or have they been alerted? Would the soldiers whose names …… could not be remembered lunge at him next?
Belazov pushed all thoughts to the back of his mind until he reached the entrance to the mechanical chamber and opened the unlocked gate.

An even harsher mechanical noise came crashing down.

The steam core was running at full power, a surprising surge of power brewing in the spherical vessel, a complex piping system hissing through the ceiling of the mechanical chamber, and massive linkages and gears whizzing through the steel frame at the end of the chamber.

The machine was running very cheerfully, even …… cheerfully to the point of being somewhat frenzied.

It was as if a restless spirit was pushing those heavy steel gears to spin rapidly, propelling the ship at breakneck speed towards the cities of the civilized world.

The hissing sound coming from the steam pipes seemed to be all mixed with murmured and vague whispers.

Belazov’s body shook a little, but he soon stabilized and took a step in the direction of the steam core.

A priest was shaking incense in front of a valve when he suddenly turned his head and looked at the general who was walking into the mechanical chamber, the emblem of the church pinned to his chest seemed to be stained with a layer of oil, making the sacred symbols on it appear blurred.

“General?” The priest cast his eyes curiously, “Why are you here all of a sudden? It’s …… here.”

“I’ve come to check on the …… steam core.” Belazov said, his gaze falling on the incense burner in the priest’s hand.

The little ball of flesh shook gently in the air, and a pale eye opened above it.

He looked up again, to the steam organs that were running, and the hissing ductwork.

The gases escaping from the steam pipes were blood-colored, and the edges of the fast-spinning gears were blurred and twisted, as if something was parasitizing the massive machinery, replacing the otherwise sacred steam with its malevolent soul.

The machine had been contaminated and was in a state of desecration – the thought floated through Belazov’s mind for a second, but was gone with the wind immediately afterward.

But still he went to the console of the steam core – even if the huge “steel heart” looked normal to him at the moment, he slowly reached out to it.

“Admiral,” a mechanic with a grease stained body suddenly came from the side and put his hand in front of the control lever, “don’t touch these, machines are sometimes fragile.”

Belazov looked up at the mechanic.

The latter just responded to his gaze with calm eyes.

But suddenly, the mechanic’s lips quirked a few times.

With a slight frown, Belazov read a few words from the mechanic’s lips –

“The machine is possessed by evil and cannot be shut down or destroyed.”

Belazov was stunned for a moment, and then immediately saw the mechanic turn sideways and wriggle his lips slightly as he fiddled with those joysticks.

“Chaplain untrustworthy …… situation out of control …… process twenty-two.”

Process twenty-two?

Belazov’s mind tightened, but soon, he knew what he had to do.

The mechanic knew the “heart” of the ship better than anyone. He turned around and left the machinery bay, but did not go to any more cabins, but continued to maintain a calm demeanor after leaving the bilge corridor, and made his way back to the captain’s cabin.

From time to time, he was greeted by soldiers, some of whom gave him a vague impression, while others could not be named at all.

There were definitely awake and sane humans among these soldiers – but Belazov no longer had any way to tell them apart, nor did he have the time to contact or screen the thirty humans on the ship other than himself and the mechanic from one to the next.

He unlocked the door to the captain’s room, went to the safe by the desk, and began to turn the combination locking disk, his fingers growing pale with the force of the crisp, pleasant click.

With the soft click of the latch opening, the safe door opened.

Belazov’s eyes skimmed over the compartment that held the documents and landed on the red button at the bottom of the box.

A small line of text was labeled next to the button: process twenty-two, for use in extreme circumstances only.

Belazov reached out toward the button, and at almost the same time, he heard a knock on the door, “General, are you in there? We’ve received orders from Frost that require your personal attention.”

It was the voice of the adjutant.

A sudden hesitation flooded Belazov’s heart-

What if he was wrong in his judgment?

What if there really wasn’t anything wrong with the ship, and it was only himself who had problems? Was he the one who had suffered a mild contamination, causing cognitive and memory bias, and even hallucinating along the way ……If that was the case, then he was now the one who would have to bury an entire ship’s worth of people to accompany his own neurosis!
“General, are you in there? We’re receiving orders from Frost ……”

The knock on the door was a little more urgent than earlier.

Belazov, however, was suddenly awakened by this knocking, and he suddenly realized that those thoughts just now were most likely not in line with his own character …… He was not someone who would suddenly have hesitation in the last step of an action.

Someone is injecting “impurities” into his own thinking!
“Son of a bitch heretical scum!”

Without another moment’s hesitation, Belazov instantly pressed the red button.

After an extremely short delay, a horrific explosion swept through the entire ship – the Mechanical Express Haiyan was instantly enveloped in flashes and flames, and was torn apart by the horrific destruction caused by the powerful explosives.

The flaming wreckage of the Haiyan floated on the surface of the sea for a while, and was gradually pushed towards the sea in the northern part of the Frost under the action of the sea currents, and then its floating finally came to its limit – the scorching wreckage began to accelerate its sinking, as if it was being dragged by some invisible force, and its sinking speed became faster and faster and finally disappeared completely! on the surface of the sea.

……

At the same time, within the Frost City State, near Cemetery No. 3, the old caretaker wearing a pitch-black coat with a slightly stooped back was slowly walking on the road back from the city.

He had just gone to the nearby streets to buy some necessities of life, and now the time was approaching dusk, so he had to return to his “position” before the shift change time.

The road to the cemetery was deep and quiet, with few passersby, but even so, there were occasional residents of the neighborhood who passed through the path.

They would unconsciously adjust their steps when they noticed the figure of the old caretaker, keeping a little distance from the stooped, gloomy old man.

They didn’t dislike this caretaker, but instinctively had a hint of fear, not only because of the eerie atmosphere around the cemetery itself, but also because of the old man’s aloof and cold character – even if they looked at the entire cemetery, compared to the other caretakers who were also more or less gloomy, this old caretaker of Cemetery No. 3 was one of the most intimidating ones. The old caretaker of Cemetery No. 3 was one of the most intimidating of them all.

He had been at his post for so long that even he had gotten a touch of the “dead” in him.

This has even led to some terrible rumors – it is often said that the pale light seen floating over the fence in the cemetery after nightfall is the caretaker’s disembodied spirit, or that this terrible old man will lie down in a coffin by himself at midnight, stop breathing with the dead and wake up the next day when the sun rises. He stops breathing with the dead and awakens at sunrise the next day.

These strange and frightening rumors haunted the cemetery and the caretaker, and the eccentric caretaker never seemed to care about them – in fact, he hardly ever dealt with the neighborhood, except for the occasional trip out to buy necessities, like today, and most of his time was spent in the caretaker’s hut in the cemetery, where the only people he dealt with were the church’s corpse-bearers, and the only people he dealt with were the church’s corpse-bearers. The only people he dealt with on a regular basis were the church’s body-bearers.

He saw nothing wrong with that.

It was his duty to keep the living away from the world of the dead, the former not to be overly curious so as not to be victimized by it, and the latter to enjoy the peace and quiet of the afterlife so that they could go on their way without fear.

He watched over the cemetery and the city beyond it.

The old man raised his head and looked toward the cemetery gate not far away, and suddenly stopped in his tracks.

Things seemed a bit special today.

There was actually a small guest.

(End of chapter)