Chapter 72
Chapter 72
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 72
Chapter Title: IRIS OUT
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The Deep Sea Chronicles didn’t record all that many spells. It was the polar opposite of the Hand of Recreation.
The Hand of Recreation contained spells across a vast array of fields—defensive measures, stealth, languages, medicine, and more. Naturally, it included a few offensive spells as well. They weren’t the sort of flashy magic you’d see in a fantasy game, but they were more than sufficient for taking lives.
Even setting those aside, with the versatile magic of Alchemy at his disposal, handling offense, defense, or mobility posed no issues whatsoever.
The Deep Sea Chronicles, on the other hand?
Summoning Magic and a handful of offensive spells. That, plus a single defensive spell. That was the bulk of what it offered.
Dealing with a variety of situations was practically impossible. The defensive spell was impressive, but it paled in comparison to Alchemy. The offensive spells packed a punch, but they couldn’t hold a candle to the Hand of Recreation’s spells that utterly ignored defenses.
That left just the Summoning Magic. And even that was awkward to use in direct combat against people. It was tricky if the opponent was small or there weren’t many of them. At the very least, it wasn’t the grimoire to pull out in a situation like this.
And yet, Ian drew this black grimoire for one simple reason.
This place was the sea.
Roooaaar!!
The seawater filling every corner responded to Ian’s will. The pooled water on the floor surged away from where he stood, while the moisture and salt clinging to the ceiling and walls swayed side to side as if dancing.
It resembled the synchronized movements of devotees praising their god, or the desperate thrashing of a drowning corpse fighting for life.
No one could say which was accurate, but neither was wrong.
Drowning humans always turned to a god in their final moments, no matter what.
Did it differ for the sea?
[Kkiiik.]
When seawater dripping from the ceiling fell into the Deep Sea Chronicles, black droplets rolled down its cover and plopped onto the floor. The moment they touched the pooled seawater, they devoured it greedily, dyeing everything around them in a black sea.
Corrosion. Or an act tantamount to invasion.
The sea was innately a motherly existence that cradled all life. It held countless lives within it, and all great lifeforms originated from single-celled organisms in the primordial ocean.
But that was a story limited to Earth.
We know nothing of the cosmos, nothing of its seas—and even less of the seas within the cosmos.
Likewise, no one knew what happened when a droplet from the Outer Sea touched Earth’s seawater.
Now, they did.
……!
The sea let out a silent scream.
The writhing seawater was devoured whole and mutated. In an instant, the environment transformed into the cosmic ocean, and tiny, round egg-like orbs began floating up from the pitch-black depths.
“……What the hell is this?”
The captain muttered without even thinking to staunch the blood flowing from his shoulder.
Ian, gripping the grimoire, looked around in bewilderment.
‘……So this is what happens when it meets the sea?’
He’d had a vague hunch. Even if it was the ocean of the cosmos, it fell under the category of ‘sea,’ so he’d assumed some reaction would occur upon contact with Earth’s seawater.
But this was excessive. No spell had been cast; mere contact with seawater had triggered corrosion on this scale. It was absurd.
Still, he didn’t panic. If it had been someone else’s magic, he might have been wary, but this black seawater posed no threat to him. Nor would it in the future.
There was no need to expend mental energy on something harmless. He shed the faint wariness he’d held and gazed with interest at the seawater swirling around him.
……What if he used a corrosion spell here? What would result?
A sudden curiosity arose.
But there was no time to indulge it.
Swoooosh!!
A tongue shot toward him like a spear as he pondered. Ian leaped backward, dunking the Deep Sea Chronicles into the pooled water.
“Upon the domain of the Great One, in His name I command: become a shield, water.”
Crunch.
As Ian chanted the incantation, the placid puddle surged in reverse, forming a razor-sharp barrier. The tongue didn’t even graze his flesh before being shredded against it.
The pulverized tongue rolled across the floor, and the floating eggs grew larger, feeding on it. The captain watched with a face twisted in shuddering hatred and fear, his single eye twitching wildly.
“You……! You’re no apostle of Dagon……!”
“……Dagon?”
Ian pulled out the sharp grimoire and countered.
“That Dagon from the Cthulhu Mythos?”
“Damn it, I smelled the sea on you and thought it was him…… but it’s not……!”
The captain ignored Ian’s question, trembling as he wiped his face.
“L-Let me make you a deal.”
He spat out his mangled tongue and continued.
“Spare me. I’ll never show my face here again.”
“……Out of nowhere.”
Ian’s tension deflated. He lifted the grimoire from the water and shook off the seawater between his fingers.
“You were trying to kill me a second ago. Isn’t switching attitudes a bit too quick?”
“I didn’t know! I thought you were Dagon’s apostle! But this power…… it’s not something a wretch like Dagon could produce. His apostles can’t do this……!”
“…….”
“What great god do you serve, mage……!”
What god do you serve?
Strictly speaking, he didn’t serve any. If anything, they were the ones clinging to him.
He’d gained these grimoires without wanting them. His everyday life had turned extraordinary in an instant, and he’d survived countless near-death experiences. He’d thought “this is dangerous” more times than he could count.
But he didn’t resent the grimoires for it.
Like it or not, they were eternal companions now. Spilled water couldn’t be poured back, so it was better to think positively than to hate them and unsettle himself.
Of course, that didn’t mean he planned to bow and worship the Outer Gods. He would use and acknowledge them as companions, just as they desired him.
A one-sided worship wouldn’t be safe.
“I serve no god.”
Ian replied, adjusting his disheveled coat.
“I have no intention of living my life groveling like you.”
“…….”
“And…… personal question, but why grovel so hard before a god? Wouldn’t it be better to make them cling to you?”
Words only someone beloved by an Outer God could say. The captain, who had sacrificed most of his body to an Outer God for power, couldn’t rebut. Instead, he grimaced and clenched his fists.
“How dare……! You lecture me on faith!”
His sharp nails tore his palms, but he glared regardless.
It was a drastic shift from begging for his life moments ago. He’d already transcended humanity, and the battle had eroded his reason further. It was inevitable.
No need to drag it out. Ian pulled an eyeball from his pocket, fixed it on the captain’s pupil, and crushed it.
Crack!
A gruesome sound accompanied the shattering of the captain’s eye. Transparent vitreous humor and blood trickled down his cheek.
“Aaahhh!!”
The captain screamed, flailing his limbs. Long, sharp tentacles. But none pierced the water walls rising around Ian; they all tore apart.
“Too bad.”
Ian lit the last of his cigarettes with one clamped in his mouth and walked forward. The seawater parted before him like a road. Eggs floating nearby cracked open with brittle snaps, revealing red eyes.
The eyes stared at Ian in unison, then their pupils slit vertically, baring teeth between.
Then they began muttering in an unknowable tongue.
[Daddy.]
[The Great One’s sole companion. His beloved.]
[The frail life chosen by the Mother of All Things.]
[Thus, a beautiful and ephemeral being.]
The translation came automatically. He couldn’t comprehend it with his ears, but his mind understood. Ian stared at their grotesque chattering, then opened the grimoire and thrust his hand into the pressure barrier. It accepted his hand without resistance, even as it crushed tentacles.
“Upon the domain of the Great One, in His name I command: become spears, water.”
As he chanted, the barrier compressed into transparent spears.
Undulating water spears. Ian’s vision spun for a moment, but he gripped his focus and closed the grimoire.
“Fire.”
At his word, the spears spun like drills, piercing the captain’s abdomen.
Kwaaaa!!
Blood and organs sprayed everywhere, and his severed lower half sank bubbling into the black Outer Sea.
The water wasn’t that deep, yet his lower body vanished as if dragged into abyssal depths.
“……Hoo.”
Ian steadied his breathing, hand on his head.
Special magic usable only at sea. He’d thought the conditions would keep the cost low, but its power came at a price—after just two uses, a spike pierced his skull like a migraine. One more would knock him out cold.
‘High risk, high return. Most of its spells are like that…….’
Ian exhaled deeply, rubbing his eyes.
Strands of tongue slithered up his thigh from the floor. Ian swatted them away like flies with the grimoire and crouched before the captain’s lone upper body, exhaling a puff of smoke.
The pale smoke rose and dispersed into the air.
Ian shook off ash and spoke slowly.
“Who’s the anomaly’s provider? What’s the makeup of your cult?”
“…….”
The captain didn’t answer. He couldn’t.
Unfortunately, he lacked the regeneration to heal such fatal wounds. He could mend a bullet hole in his head, but not a torn-off lower half.
The same went for his shredded organs.
Half-destroyed lungs. In this state, even breathing—let alone speaking—was impossible.
Waiting on a guy who couldn’t regenerate would yield nothing.
“Regeneration far inferior to that Vatican nun…….”
Ian sighed deeply and placed a hand on the captain’s lolling head.
He swapped grimoires and chanted. At the familiar words, the captain’s body shrank into a small cube and dropped to the floor.
He considered taking it but decided against it. Even if it was an Outer God from some tale, this guy had been under its influence. No need to stir up trouble.
“Urgh…….”
The fight had ended anticlimactically, but the accumulated fatigue was severe. His head throbbed like a second heart from spell spam, and his legs felt weak.
Still, he could move. Ian slapped his trembling thighs, stroked the grimoire in his hand, and exited the wheelhouse.
“Good job.”
[Bzzz!]
The grimoire vibrated nonchalantly. Ian chuckled.
The water that had overflowed from the wheelhouse was mostly gone. The Outer Sea water had vanished long ago, and the wriggling worms were nowhere to be seen.
They must have dissipated with the captain’s death. A shame he couldn’t make materials from it, but it was enough.
[Ha! The monsters are gone! Brothers! This ship is ours now! Let’s take full control after dealing with these damned ghosts!]
A pirate peeked around the corner, thrusting a bloodied sword and shouting. Ian, in his blind spot, placed a hand on the pirate’s nape and cast a spell.
“Be reborn.”
[Ooooh!]
The pirate turned into a sphere just like that. Ian pocketed it casually and rolled his stiff wrists.
‘Killing the captain changed nothing. Looks like I have to take out the ones in the sea to end this.’
He’d half-expected it, so no surprise. Just tiring.
He should rest after wrapping this up. Better to stay in peak condition than push himself.
With that thought, Ian slowly set off.