Chapter 455: Pogro
The bright street lamps illuminated the streets of the submerged island. However, walking along the deserted underwater path stirred an eerie sense of unease in Charles.
"Ready your weapons. Stay alert." Charles would periodically signal to the sailors around him using flag semaphore.
Above them, the Narwhale's dark torpedo launch pods were open, ready to launch an attack at the first sign of any enemy.
Suddenly, a white shadow fleeted past at the far end of the street. Charles' keen eyes noticed it, but he decided against a pursuit.
There's something here, and they've noticed us. Charles thought, his heart hung in suspense. He knew he couldn't just wait passively for their unknown foe to make a move. Thus, he made a subtle gesture with his hand. Dipp picked up the cue and slowly drifted away from their formation.
Pretending as though nothing had happened, Charles continued to lead his crew slowly down the streets. He held back from sending his crew into the surrounding buildings to explore, just in case of an ambush from the entity he spotted earlier.
The place felt increasingly unnerving, and for a moment, Charles really missed Feuerbach's red sharks.
Perhaps Charles' lack of reaction had given their observer a false sense of security. Several minutes later, atop a small building some two hundred meters from Charles, a white head cautiously peeked out again.
Just as the entity silently observed Charles and his group from afar, he failed to realize that a grotesque, terrifying Deep Dweller had already positioned himself right above.
Swish!
With a swift movement, Dipp lunged directly at the figure with his claws bared.
"Captain! I caught it! It's a kid!" Dipp shouted, his gills flaring up as his voice resonated underwater.
Despite the heavy diving suit, Charles hurriedly dashed over. Soon, he saw the entity who had been spying on them and was currently in Dipp's grasp.
The boy looked extremely ordinary. He wore a white baseball cap over his head and brightly colored children's clothes. His entire appearance was similar to that of a kid in the surface world. Not some underwater creature, but just another normal boy.
The child seemed terrified by Dipp's monstrous appearance as he struggled and twisted in the latter's grip, shouting for help.
The subterranean language? This boy can communicate?
Charles' mind raced for a plan, and he soon gestured toward their ship. Conversing underwater was inconvenient in the water, but now that they had their hands on an "informant," it was time for a thorough interrogation.
The divers' bulky oxygen tubes retracted, pulling them toward the Narwhale. Meanwhile, Dipp had the boy firmly in his grip as he swam toward the decompression chamber.
The seawater inside the Narwhale's decompression chamber drained slowly. As the water level gradually dropped, the boy saw Charles's countenance through the helmet's glass. The boy's extremely terrified expression eased significantly.
Charles signaled to Bandages, who was on standby outside the chamber, to keep the door shut. He turned to face the boy, who looked no older than eight or nine years old.
"Can you understand me?" Charles asked.
"Who are you people? Why did you catch me? I didn't do anything. I was just looking. Is looking not even allowed?" the boy replied in quick defense, his voice laced with evident panic.
Seeing that the boy could communicate, Charles let out a sigh of relief. Communication would simplify matters. For all the years he had been in the Subterranean Sea, this was the first time he encountered an island native whom he could hold a smooth dialogue with.
"Don't hurt me! I don't have much on me, but I can give you everything I have. I was wrong; I shouldn't have sneaked out of the shelter," the boy blabbered on as he reached out a hand toward Charles' arm for comfort.
However, the swift whirring of a chainsaw splattered crimson blood.
Drops of blood dripped onto the floor as the boy screamed in fear. He clutched his right hand in pain where the nail of his middle finger had been sheared off, his legs trembling non-stop.
"Quiet! You're so annoying!" Second Mate Conor snapped as he slapped the boy across the face, stunning the kid into silence.
Charles stretched out a hand and pushed Conor back. He then approached the boy with a calm gaze.
"My reaction might have been a bit excessive; I apologize. We've just met, and it's best not to make any sudden moves. Fortunately, it's just a minor injury," Charles said. However, his words did little to snap the boy out of his daze. The boy stood frozen, like a glitching machine.
Charles lightly tapped the boy's shoulder, hoping to snap him out of his daze. However, the touch sent a shudder through the boy. His face almost fell apart in distress as a trickle of yellow liquid seeped out from under him.
All signs so far suggested that the boy was just an ordinary child, but Charles' guard didn't wane in the slightest.
After all, no child, neither on the surface world nor in the Subterranean Sea had the ability to naturally breathe underwater.
Charles moved toward the decompression chamber's door and exchanged a few words through a crack with Bandages on the other side.
Soon, Bandages returned with an assortment of items. Among them, there was the Soul Printer and a few sugar cubes.
"What's your name?" Charles placed the printer on the ground and asked the first question.
Being surrounded by a group of men in heavy diving suits, towering nearly twice his height, the boy struggled against the urge to burst into tears. His lips quivered, parting and closing several times before he finally answered, "PoPogro"
Click click click
The printer started working and soon produced a piece of paper. The line of text on it confirmed the boy's words; his name was indeed Pogro.
"Good. Now Pogro, can you tell me the name of this island?" Charles asked a second question as he pushed a cube of sugar into the boy's mouth.
"Island 68," Pogro replied as water droplets trickled down his brown hair. The sweetness of the sugar seemed to soothe him; at least his body wasn't trembling as severely as before.
Island 68, huh? That naming convention sure sounds very much like the Foundation. Charles mused to himself.
"Apart from you, are there anyone else on the island?" Charles continued his interrogation.
Pogro nodded in affirmation. "Yeah they're all in the shelter beneath the streets. The mayor said there's been a great threat recently and forbade us from coming out."
A mayor? It seems like there's still some semblance of law and order in the human community on this island. That's reassuring.
"Then have you seen a colossal key on Island 68? If you can help me find the key, I'll let you go back immediately."
The hope of returning home sparked a glint of hope in Pogro's eyes that had been filled with dread. He reached for his neck and produced a round-handled key from underneath his clothes.
"Are you looking for a key? Does this key work? It's the key to my house's front door," Pogro said and offered the key to Charles.
Charles shook his head. "Not this kind of key. See our ship right here? The key I'm talking about is ten times bigger than this ship."
Pogro cast a fearful glance at Conor, who was eyeing him with a stern gaze, and he stuttered, "I don't know"
Charles tried to press for more details, but clearly, the boy knew very little. Whether it was the Foundation or the key, Pogro was not able to provide any significant information.
Just as Charles was pondering how to extract more clues from Pogro, Bandages pushed the door open and entered the decompression chamber.
"Captain... there's something outside... flying toward us."
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