My Abyss Survival Diary

Chapter 28 The Watchers Meeting

The elevator's metal doors slowly opened.

Andrei stood on the second-floor corridor of the outpost, his hands gripping the iron railings, his right hand's knuckles tapping lightly on the railings.

He looked down and watched the massive elevator slowly rise from the darkness, the sound of its hinges turning echoing deafeningly between the rock walls.

Behind the bars of the iron cage stood a person.

He is a walking war machine.

Steam hissed out from the gaps in the armor, carrying the scent of bitter almonds.

He was over 2.5 meters tall, covered in dark green power armor. Each steel plate was as thick as the bricks of a city wall, reinforced with rivets, and etched with the insignia of a deformed venomous snake's staff.

The shoulder armor of the suit was unusually wide, with spikes welded on it, resembling two upside-down axes.

The toxin and fuel backpack on his back gleamed coldly in the moonlight. Two thick pipes extended from the backpack to the jets below his arms, steam hissing from the pipe connections.

The face peeked out from the collar of the armor; the skin was grayish-white, with no eyebrows, no eyelashes, and no hair.

His face was corroded by poison gas during the battle, with pitted scars extending from his forehead to his chin. His two eyes were different sizes; his left eyelid was pulled by the scar and was always half-open, while his right eye socket was everted, revealing the dark red flesh inside.

He smiled, his lips parted to the sides, and his two rows of metal dentures gleamed in the steam.

Azimriv, leader of the Impure World Physicians Legion.

Andrei lowered his hand from the railing and let it hang at his side.

Azimreif was followed by four undead healers, all wearing the same dark green armor and the same caduceus emblem.

They walked in unison, their boots making a rhythmic clanging sound as they stepped on the steel plates, like a mechanical army marching.

The priest walked over from the other end of the corridor. He was still wearing that faded white robe, the hood covering most of his face. He was hunched over and walked very slowly.

A tall, strong woman—Elena, the leader of the Sisters of the Holy Hammer—followed him half a step behind, the Holy Hammer hanging at her waist, its head polished to a shine, reflecting the light.

"Commander Azimriv," the priest's voice was hoarse and dry, but steady. "Welcome."

Azimriv stopped and tilted his head to look at the priest. His disfigured face twisted into a smile, which looked even more ferocious under the light.

"Old friend, it's been a long time."

His gaze shifted from the priest, swept over Elena, over Andrei in the corridor, and finally landed on the tightly closed iron gate deep inside the outpost.

"Let's go inside and talk."

The meeting room was located at the deepest part of the outpost, a windowless tin-roofed room with steel plates welded to the walls, exposed rivets, and no paint. The iron-gray metal gleamed coldly under the gas lamp.

A long, narrow iron table with six iron chairs; the tabletop was polished to a shine.

The priest sat at one end of the long table with his hands on his knees, and Elena stood behind him with her warhammer planted on the ground and her hands folded over the top of the handle.

Her white hair looked like a silver helmet under the light, and the wrinkles on her face were deep, as if carved by a knife.

Azimriv sat opposite the priest, his power armor arm resting on the table, his metal glove slamming against the iron table with a dull thud.

Andrei, as the old priest's assistant, sat on the side of the long table.

On the other side of the long table, a person dressed in a black robe sat there.

The collar of the robe was high, covering the neck, and the hood was pulled down low, covering most of the face, leaving only a pale chin and a hand holding a pen visible.

A thick leather notebook lay open on the table, and a quill pen was stuck in an ink bottle, its tip still dripping ink.

Inspector of the Inquisition.

No one knew his name, and no one had ever seen his face.

He never spoke, he just took notes.

Every word, every pause at the meeting was written down in that notebook, and those records were sent to the imperial capital and into the Inquisition.

The gas lamp hissed as it burned, casting a dim, yellowish light on the iron table.

"Let's get straight to the point." Azimriv cut to the chase. "The Abyss Spawn hasn't appeared. The Hungry Angel has devoured it and become even more dangerous. My suggestion is to drop an extermination bomb to kill that monster and all the abyss creatures on this level at once."

"The extinction bomb hasn't been successfully developed yet. It will kill not only the creatures of the abyss, but also humans." The priest asked, frowning. "You want to blow up all the outposts on the first level, killing all the Watchers and nuns still exploring the abyss?"

"I'm not that extreme. You have three days to prepare. Recall all the Abyss Watchers and take all the supplies and samples with you." Azimriv shrugged helplessly, making a mechanical clicking sound. "Three days later, they will sacrifice themselves for the Empire."

Elena lifted her hand from the hammer handle and gripped the hammerhead tightly. She didn't speak, but something burned in her light gray eyes.

The priest looked up at Azimreif.

There was no fear or anger in those cloudy eyes, only a deep, rock-like determination.

"The first-level outpost was built by the Empire over three years. The elevators, fortifications, and warehouses—every steel plate was transported from the ground, and every rivet was bought with lives. If it were to be blown up, all of the Empire's outposts in the Abyss would be paralyzed, and all the troops still exploring below would be trapped."

Azimriv was silent for a few seconds.

"Then what do you suggest, Father?" Azimriv's voice was still so soft, but Andrei could hear the chill beneath it. "The hungry angel has flown out of the abyss, and the seeds of the abyss have been sown across the land of the Empire. You will regret not dropping that bomb then."

Elena took a step forward, lifted her warhammer from the ground, and rested the hammerhead on the table. Her gray eyes were fixed on Azimreif.

"My nun is still down there," Elena said in a low voice. "I disagree with dropping the bomb."

Azimriv turned his head and looked at Elena, a smile slowly appearing on his disfigured face.

"Your nuns?" Azimreif repeated. "Captain Elena, most of your nuns have been killed or wounded. Are you sure the few who made it to the second level are still alive?"

Elena gripped the hammer handle tightly, her knuckles turning white.

She didn't speak, but Andrei noticed her shoulders trembling slightly.

"Enough," the priest said, his voice low but sharp as a knife cutting through the air. "I have a plan."

Everyone was watching him as the inspector's quill pen hovered over the paper, a drop of ink from its tip falling and spreading a small black stain on the notebook.

"What plan?"

"I have a secret weapon," the priest said calmly, "that can kill the hungry angel."

Azimriv stared at the priest for a long time, his non-existent eyebrows furrowed.

"How come I didn't know?" Azimriv asked in surprise. "Our authority is the same. The Empire wouldn't entrust something to you without my knowledge."

The next moment, the priest's calm words struck like a bolt from the blue, making everyone present, including Azimriv, tremble.

"Because even the empire is unaware of its existence."

Azimriv stood up expressionlessly, his power armor boots clattering against the steel plates.

He placed his hands on the table, leaned forward, and brought his disfigured face close to the priest's face. Steam billowed from the gaps in his armor, carrying the smell of bitter almonds.

"Father," Azimreif said in a low voice, "if anything goes wrong, you'll be responsible!"

The priest looked up at the狰狞 face so close to his face, without blinking.

"I take full responsibility."

Azimriv stood up angrily, opened the soundproof metal door to the room, and then slammed it shut in frustration.

"I'll give you three days!" came the voice from the doorway. "After three days, regardless of whether your secret weapon works or not, I'll drop the bomb."

The iron gate opened and then slammed shut; the footsteps grew fainter and fainter, disappearing at the end of the corridor.

The priest closed his eyes, Elena lowered her head, and Andrei sat there with his metal right hand flat on the table, his fingers slightly bent.

The inspector silently closed his notebook, stuck the quill pen into the ink bottle, and left the meeting room.

Only three people remained in the meeting room: the priest, Elena, and Andrei.

The priest opened his eyes, his cloudy eyes staring directly at Andrei.

"Andrei," the priest said, calling out his name, "come with me."