Chapter 2609 — 2609: Deadly Race

Back on the surface, the four tentacles plummeted into the water and disappeared from view. The fifth, meanwhile, was still straining to crush the Night Garden in its terrible embrace.

The living ship refused to shatter, though.

Instead, at the points where the colossal tentacle was wrapped around its hull, Old Tom's flesh seemed to boil, and torrents of oily blood flowed down the surface of the weathered wood, painting it black.

But soon enough, the coating of black blood was absorbed into the Night Garden, as well, and it regained its original color.

The titanic struggle continued for some time, and then, the dark tentacle shuddered. It tried to extricate itself from the living ship, but the hull of the Night Garden would not let it go.

In an eerie change of pace, the previous situation seemed to have been reversed — instead of trying to crush the ancient vessel, the gargantuan tentacle was now straining in an attempt to escape.

Slowly, the revolting flesh of the mysterious horror ripped, and finally, the tentacle tore itself free of the wooden hull — not without leaving enormous chunks of flesh behind, though.

With all its underside skinned and stripped of a layer of flesh, the tentacle whipped into the air, raining black blood upon the sea. Convulsing, it then retreated into the surging waves and disappeared from view.

A new scar was added to the hull of the Night Garden, with pieces of the colossal tentacle slowly sinking into the surface of the living wood. The ancient vessel was going to consume Old Tom's flesh like it had that of countless abominations before, and use these nutrients to mend whatever damage the horror of the depths dealt it.

Granted... the previous scars left on the hull of the Night Garden by Old Tom were slow to heal, still marring its surface.

Another tentacle was already rising from the foaming water, but despite that, Jet let out a relieved sigh.

Old Tom was one of the most persistent contenders in the race to the Eternal City — many of the abominations they had clashed with during this perilous voyage had already perished, either slain by humans or torn apart by fellow Nightmare Creatures, but this terrifying creature continued to follow the Night Garden like a curse, attacking it from the depths from time to time.

Hopefully, the Lord of Shadows and the Saints of Night would destroy it today — or, if not, then at least gather information about what Old Tom actually was. No one had seen the source of the terrifying tentacles, since it was hidden too deep.

The horror of the depths was not what Jet was worried about, though.

"The mist is coming!"

Cursing quietly, she looked south.

There, the eerie haze had already turned into a rolling wall of ghostly mist. Cold winds suddenly assaulted the Night Garden, and the wall of mist moved across the surface of the water, slowly devouring the world.

Jet studied it with a tense expression, and so did everyone else in the runic hall.

Far below, on the main deck, the soldiers charging the cannons stopped, as well, watching the approaching mist with pale faces.

'Will it come?'

As if to answer Jet's question, a massive shadow moved in the mist.

A dead silence enveloped the Night Garden as everyone looked south with wary expressions.

Then, the silhouette of an eerie ship slowly revealed itself in the fog. Although not quite as titanic as the Night Garden, it was still enormous, towering above the sea like a fortress built of rotten wood. Its tattered sails swayed slowly in the ghostly winds, and an eerie glow emanated from its broken, deserted deck.

The ship looked almost translucent, as if it was there and not there at the same time. It moved at the edge of the rolling wall of mist, looking like it was guiding it…

"Dutchman. It's the Dutchman!"

Just then, the ghostly shapes of smaller vessels revealed themselves from the veil of fog, being drawn by the same ethereal winds that carried the Dutchman — that was what the soldiers had named the flagship of the ghostly fleet.

Jet wasn't sure what an old tale from before the Dark Times had to do with abominable Nightmare Creatures of the Stormsea, but the nickname stuck.

"Diviners…"

"Nightfall within half an hour, m'am!"

Jet closed her eyes for a moment.

'Half an hour, huh?'

Half an hour… was a long, long time.

"Move the starboard cannons to port. Pull the Awakened soldiers below deck, send all Ascended officers to the battlements. Summon every Echo we have… Aether, the bridge is yours. You know what to do."

Aether gave her a guardedly worried look, then bowed slightly.

"Yes, Lady Jet."

Jet blinked a few times.

'...Right. I'm a lady now.'

Smiling crookedly, she raised her arms above her head and stretched like a cat, then let out a long sigh and summoned the Mist Blade.

Commanding it into the shape of a war scythe, Jet then took a step forward and turned into a torrent of mist herself.

Descending from the height of the Mainmast Pagoda, she rushed across the great span of the Night Garden's main deck and reached its edge.

There, the Awakened soldiers were already retreating hastily, while the Ascended cursed as they pushed the heavy cannons into place.

Flowing upward, Jet returned to her corporeal form on top of one of the great cannons, standing at the very edge of its long obsidian barrel.

The water foamed and surged far below her.

Placing the scythe on her shoulder, Jet looked south, at the eerie shape of the Dutchman.

A few moments later, she felt a chill run down her spine.

She knew that someone… or something… was looking back at her.

She raised a hand with a faint smile and beckoned the captain of the Dutchman with her finger, inviting him to come.

In the next moment, the sails of the ghostly flotilla swelled, and dozens of rotting ships tore free of the wall of mist, flying across the waves toward the Night Garden.

'Come, come... you bastards. I was hungry, anyway.'