Ch.104Ch.7 – Elegy for Reason (11)

During the journey, Crayfield told me about the Devil’s Reef.

While America has many strange geographical features, if one had to choose one on the East Coast, it would undoubtedly be the Devil’s Reef. The sand there is dark and murky, filled with sharp rocks that resemble solidified lava. Despite its name as a sandbar, it has jagged reefs and cliffs, making it a place ships avoid approaching.

Some scientists claim there was tectonic activity off the coast of Innsmouth, and the Devil’s Reef is evidence of this. However, questions arise because beyond the four-kilometer stretch of beach, the rocks become rounded and the sand turns yellowish, making it seem too localized to be considered tectonic activity.

“Of course, that’s what uninformed people say. Through Lovecraft’s novels, we know that right here is the entrance to Y’ha-nthlei, the city of the Deep Ones. A U.S. Navy submarine fired torpedoes, but they only caused minor damage to the entrance, nothing significant. Also, Lovecraft’s novels hint that they command Shoggoths.”

I asked what Shoggoths were.

“Simply put, they’re jelly monsters. About the size of a hippopotamus, their bodies are made of mucus, and they spew acidic solutions. Pistols, rifles, or blunt weapons barely harm them. Maybe bombs would work. Surprisingly, they’re higher life forms. They can think, use simple language, and have learning abilities. But what’s most frightening is their temperament. They were once slaves to the Elder Gods before they rebelled.”

Our two revolvers would certainly be inadequate against such creatures. I wondered if Emma could handle them and looked up, but she wasn’t visible. She’s unpredictable. Sometimes she passes through building walls at will, other times she walks with half her body buried in the road. Such sights were shocking, but fortunately not terrifying enough to drive one insane.

Familiarity is probably the most accurate reason. At least in this world I share with Crayfield, Emma Scully seems similar in many ways to ghosts from movies, novels, or comics. She’s visible only to me, unhindered by physical barriers, and

[Right]

speaks to me like this. I checked Crayfield’s reaction, but he didn’t seem to hear her. I looked to my right, then gently tugged at Crayfield’s collar.

We quickly pressed ourselves against the alley wall, hoping the thick darkness would conceal us. We had already passed the street lined with three and four-story buildings and were approaching the docks. No building exceeded two stories; most were single-story warehouses or huts, filthy as open-mouthed piles of seashells.

Someone was hurrying between those huts. Carrying a lantern, they walked with determined but quick steps, seemingly heading toward the beach. We were quite startled by the sudden appearance of a person at this hour, making no sound or sign, but we decided to follow them.

“It’s that woman. Penny’s mother,” Crayfield whispered.

“The mother of the man who died at the town hall with his neck cut by wire. She said we would all meet again as Deep Ones. What could she be doing at the reef?”

[Stop]

Emma signaled again. I waved my hand at Crayfield to halt his steps. Fortunately, I didn’t need to worry about explaining to him.

We heard human voices. Not just one person, but several singing in unison. It was a song without lyrics, a humming sound made with tightly closed lips. The sound rose and fell, seemed about to break but continued, grew stronger then weakened again.

It felt like attending a gathering for a foreign deity. Other worshippers rise and sit according to familiar movements, reciting promised prayers, while a stranger can only stand awkwardly, watching others for cues—that’s how I felt, alone in such a gathering.

“There it is. The reef. Can you see it?” Crayfield whispered.

The reef had many rocks, ranging from car-sized to table-sized. People were circling these rocks, chanting prayers. They were divided into small groups, with the number of people seemingly assigned according to the size of the rock.

“Lazy bastards,” Crayfield bared his teeth.

“This scene appeared in the previous installment too. I don’t know if it’s an homage or just a lazy copy-paste, but I recognize this ritual. It’s called the ‘Ritual of Brotherhood.’ Let’s find a good observation spot. That place looks good.”

We climbed onto a fairly high rock. It was about the height of two stacked cars, but with various indentations that made climbing not too difficult. The top was wider than expected, allowing both Crayfield and me to lie side by side.

A whooshing sound reached us—like holding a conch shell to your ear. The sound grew louder, layered over the “um-om” chanting of those circling the rocks.

“Get ready to be surprised,” Crayfield pointed toward the sea. I covered my mouth. Without warning, people emerged from the ocean. No—could they even be called people? Their eyes, visible in the lantern light, were fish eyes, and sharp fins extended from their hairless heads down to their curved backs. From the upper body, they were clearly fish.

But they had arms and legs. More like amphibian limbs than human ones. Their arms were slightly short but sturdy. The muscles of their two legs glistened and twitched as if ready to leap at any moment. Each time they opened their mouths, sticky saliva dripped down their chins.

“Those are Deep Ones. What I should have become in the good ending of the previous work. Deep One characteristics are hereditary. Once Deep One blood mixes into a family line, their traits become more pronounced in later generations. Certain triggers can ‘accelerate’ the transformation.”

The Deep Ones’ language sounded like speech. It resembled English, Chinese, Japanese, and Arabic all at once. Listening more carefully, I realized their speech contained fragmented words from various languages mixed together, like poorly translated foreign languages.

The townspeople stopped their circling. One person from each group stepped forward, and one face was familiar—Innsmouth’s mayor, Isaac Allen. Allen’s attire was strange: a burlap sack with holes for his arms and head, with a string tied around his waist instead of a belt.

Allen and his group knelt before the Deep Ones, repeatedly bowing. They were clearly saying something, though I couldn’t understand the meaning. Judging by the Deep Ones’ mouths moving, they were definitely communicating through language.

A pale figure approached them—Emma. Even the Deep Ones didn’t seem to detect her presence. Emma positioned herself beside the Deep Ones and the mayor, like a mediator. She looked up at the rock where we were lying, her gaze as close as someone sitting right beside us.

[The seasons ripen the grain. Time grows the fry. The currents changed long ago, and now the promised time has come]

A woman beside the mayor wailed. It was Penny’s mother.

[Ancestors, hear our grievances. Watch over my innocent son]

[My young daughter, hear my words. Father Dagon’s territory is wider than five seas combined and deeper than the center of the world, so would there not be room for your son? Where is he?]

[The godless outsiders beheaded my son]

[Sad and sorrowful, angry and wrathful. Who is it? Who has beheaded the sacred child of the Father? Ah, blessed shall be the one who beheads the beheader of sons and daughters!]

[The womb that bore my son is still with me, and I wish to see my son again]

Mayor Allen tried to intervene, but one of the Deep Ones shook its head. Those who had stepped forward remained adamant.

[We have been insulted, persecuted, and abandoned by the world, so we ask to return to our Father’s embrace]

[Our leaders have been martyred, and the young forget the Father. Before the Father becomes angry two or three times, we offer our flesh and this land]

The Deep One finally nodded.

[The Father still loves you, but due to your impiety and lack of virtue, He does not fully trust you. You shall rightfully increase His offspring. Bring more land to sow seeds and more seeds to sow on the land. Then the servants will lead this land into the Father’s embrace, to the kingdom of a thousand years, you shall…]

There was a sound. Lights appeared. Behind us. Like a sunrise, a crowd of people suddenly appeared from the far end of the road. Torches burned brightly, and pitchforks, guns, and nail-studded clubs were visible.

[You shall sink]

The Deep One who finished speaking whispered something. Mayor Isaac Allen, bowing repeatedly, hurriedly ran toward them. Emma Scully also glided past Allen like a night ghost.

“Go back!” the mayor’s voice rang out.

“Go back! Return and wait for your time! What are you doing at this sacred ceremony?”

The mayor squawked, but the protesters didn’t seem to hear him. Ignoring the mayor, they walked straight toward us. Their steps were coordinated, their expressions filled with firm resolve.

They were young people. Innsmouth’s youth. Some looked as ordinary as others, while some appeared closer to Deep Ones. People I’d never seen on the streets before. About 50 or 60 of them. Had so many people been confined to their homes, never seeing the world?

“Go back! Why did you come?” Mayor Allen shouted, running back this way.

“Let’s stop this,” someone from the protest group stepped forward. A young woman with a long scar on her forehead.

“Mayor, we are Americans, not Innsmouth people.”

“Father Dagon is angry because of you!”

“We have the right to choose too!”

A hunched figure with almost no eyelids shouted.

“We’re leaving this place. We won’t have children. Should I pass on this suffering to my children? This curse?”

“Watch your mouth!” Penny’s mother rushed forward, waving her lantern.

“You are blessed children. Dagon has looked after us for a very long time. Now is the time you should rightfully repay, and yet you do this in the presence of our ancestors!”

“Those are fish-people, not our ancestors!”

“So. When our great cult leader and his followers were captured, when the town hall was attacked, when we had to stay locked inside because of our appearance—what did our great Father do for us? Add an extra fish to our table? Give us gold only to be investigated for tax evasion? What a magnificent god!”

The young people shouted chaotically.

“Our parents’ generation has suffered enough. We won’t live like this! Innsmouth is failing because of people like you who live trapped in old beliefs!”

Gurgling, boiling, and clicking sounds reached us. The Deep Ones couldn’t speak human language, but they could apparently understand it.

“People from Congress, from Washington and Boston, taught us. That there’s a wider world beyond here. That we’ve been deceived all this time! That we’ve been living as slaves to a not-so-great god! We’re leaving! You’re all insane. Your parents’ generation, all of you!”

“You’re the crazy ones! We don’t want eternal life in that world!”

“Insane! Insane!”

The young people shouted in unison. Representatives tried to stop them, but the youth paid no heed. The older ones couldn’t properly restrain them. We could see the young people rushing toward the Deep Ones, seething.

“Assistant,” Crayfield clenched his fist so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“This was it. The downfall of Innsmouth. Innsmouth is a community bound by blood. The downfall of Innsmouth meant… the breakdown of the community.”

The conflict intensified. The Deep Ones seemed unwilling to tolerate such rebellion. Their limbs swelled, foam formed at their mouths, and the young people shouted at them.

“How ironic. They kidnapped normal humans, offered them to Dagon, then raised children, but those children are now rejecting their parents. Our ‘politician’ player has excellently amplified this conflict. And Annette Cole, who denies Dagon and Hydra… a congresswoman from Pollard Island… our player is her aide.”

I could understand what Crayfield had realized. Annette Cole’s true purpose—our player’s true purpose—was to weaken Dagon’s power. To make him betrayed by his followers, to make him leave this land. His wife Hydra had already left.

Even if the price was the destruction of Innsmouth.