Deep Sea Embers

Chapter 789: The Rotting Black Sun

With a mind brimming with curiosity yet tempered by caution, Duncan inquired, “How did you find this place?” His voice, careful yet devoid of hostility, reflected his complex history with the followers and descendants of the Black Sun—a history marked by challenges but ultimately shaped by understanding and empathy. Duncan had come to recognize that the intentions of this ancient deity were never malevolent towards the mortal realm.

Unlike other ancient gods, this deity had been metaphorically simmered over a gentle flame by its own worshippers and progeny. If it were capable of expression, the “True Black Sun” might have labeled itself as “tragic” on each of its tendrils…

“I ‘heard’ the disturbances from subspace. Navigator Three… after years of dormancy, suddenly activated, signaling the approach of a significant moment,” the sun, marred and misshapen, revealed. Despite its weakened state, there was a softness in its voice, “Usurper, our paths cross once again.”

“The approach of a significant moment… You anticipated my arrival?” Duncan seized upon the sun’s statement, his concern evident, “And you’re aware of Navigator Three?”

“…I am also ‘one of them,\'” the Creeping Sun wheel responded, its pace measured, “Before the birth of a new sun by Navigator One, I played a role in this sanctuary’s creation.”

Duncan paused, his gaze laden with reflection.

He then spoke, his voice resonating with a clarity of purpose, “What do you seek from me? Do you still harbor hope that I might assist in ending your existence? If so, I must confess, I’m currently preoccupied—your ‘progeny’ and ‘adherents’ persist in reigniting your flames, and my ability to intervene is limited at this time…”

Before Duncan could fully articulate his thoughts, the disfigured sun interjected, its voice trembling once more: “Concern for my offspring… or the mortals who worship the ‘Black Sun’ is no longer necessary.”

Duncan’s demeanor shifted, his eyebrows furrowing as he sought clarity, “What do you mean by that?”

The sun’s response was both shocking and disconcerting: “The faith in the True Black Sun has dissipated from this realm. The Black Sun will soon be forgotten, its stories and records transforming into ambiguous, distorted ‘impressions,’ eventually replaced by semblances that mimic reality yet are mere illusions. Usurper, should you doubt these words, you have the means to verify them within the mortal realm. I trust in your capabilities to do so.”

The significance of these revelations dawned heavily on Duncan, his expression growing more solemn. He contemplated the implications, breaking the silence with a poignant question, “…What happened? Why has it come to this?”

He considered the possibility that the “True Black Sun” could no longer bear the burden of its slow demise and had eradicated all traces of its offspring, remnants, and worshippers. Yet, the idea of memories and records fading into oblivion, replaced by illusions, suggested a scenario far more complex than mere annihilation—it hinted at the corruption of history itself.

Observing the entity before him, Duncan noted its writhing tendrils and the flesh engulfed by its aura, which spoke with a voice tinged with sorrow, “I am rotting. After enduring for ages, my end is imminent.”

The concept of “rotting” struck a chord with Duncan, echoing previous mentions by various entities. Now, the “True Black Sun” brought it up as well.

“As all things associated with ‘me’ begin to fade, so does the world’s memory of me,” the deformed sun continued, its tone reflective. “My homeland’s visage, the faces and names of those key to my creation—those who were part of my essence—are fading. They are relics of the ‘Old World,’ vital to my existence.”

“Usurper, it’s uncertain if you can fully grasp what I’m conveying—my essence is eroding, and this disintegration is the final stage of decay.”

Duncan remained thoughtful, absorbing the profound revelations shared with him. After a moment, he ventured, “…So, you’re suggesting that your self-awareness and memories are involuntarily fading, erasing everything tied to your self-awareness and memories from this world… Is this the essence of your ‘rot’?”

“Precisely as you’ve deduced—it’s a gradual process,” the deformed sun replied, its voice now carrying an even greater weight of frailty. “Since arriving in this ‘world,’ our decay had begun. This type of rot has been a constant throughout the sanctuary’s history…”

The deformed sun shared its sorrowful truth with Duncan, revealing the tragic nature of its existence. “Unfortunately, the part of us capable of rational thought remains conscious during this ordeal. I am painfully aware of what I’m ‘forgetting,’ even as those elements vanish from my being. I understand what those lost aspects represented, but such ‘memories’ are now futile. The remnants of our past, brought from the old world, continue to disintegrate, becoming unrecognizable scraps…”

“This is my reality, and it applies to the entities known as the four gods as well. They, too, are experiencing this decline…”

“Usurper, over the years, I’ve endured several ‘intensifications’ of decay, with the fading of the ‘Black Sun’s’ legacy possibly marking its most severe and final phase. My time is swiftly depleting.”

Having conveyed so much, the deformed sun seemed to lose the strength to continue, its voice fading into silence.

Duncan, his brows knitting together in concern, began to understand the concept of “rot” as it pertained to the gods, linking it to various observations. Yet, his immediate focus was on the intentions behind the Black Sun’s revelations.

“You’ve sought me out, clearly not just to impart this knowledge. What do you wish for me to do?”

After a moment of silence, the voice of the Black Sun reached Duncan and Alice, carrying a solemn request: “I implore you to end my existence… However, when that day comes, I ask that you consume my remains with your flames, reduce them to ashes, and then, remember those remains.”

The notion of burning to ashes and holding onto memories intrigued Duncan, prompting a moment of insight.

“…It seems you’ve gleaned some understanding of my ‘power,\'” he acknowledged, his tone grave.

“I have vigilantly observed this sanctuary for eons, enduring the ceaseless decay and isolation that have limited my actions, yet I have remained acutely aware of the myriad events transpiring within this realm—including those involving you,” the Black Sun articulated with a measured pace, its voice imbued with a profound sense of purpose. “My desire… is to cement a legacy.”

Duncan, absorbing the weight of these words, repeated, “A legacy in a ‘new world’…” His expression remained thoughtful, a mix of skepticism and curiosity coloring his response. “Your request sparks interest. Yet, how can you be so confident that your actions will ensure a ‘place in the new world’? Furthermore, how can you be so sure that a ‘new world’ will indeed materialize?”

His gaze hardened, signifying the gravity of his inquiry, “You must understand, while I do harbor plans to reconstruct everything following the sanctuary’s demise, certainty of success eludes me—I’m still in the process of devising a viable strategy… And yet, you approach with such a proposal, aspiring to secure a spot?”

“At the core of our agreement,” the entity before Duncan, a conglomerate of pale, shifting flesh, began to transform subtly. Slender tentacles protruded from the radiant aura enveloping it, reaching out as though in search of something unseen, highlighting the seriousness of its proposition. “Should you grant my request, I am willing to offer you a glimpse into the future, a preview that will undoubtedly serve as a boon in your journey.”

Duncan found himself ensnared by curiosity.

“You claim to have ‘proof’?” His keen gaze dissected the throbbing entity, “Do you imply you possess evidence that validates a successful transition into this ‘new world’ is feasible?”

A momentary silence ensued, after which the Black Sun offered a mysterious response: “At present, I do not.”

Duncan, momentarily thrown, pondered if the ancient being was jesting. Yet, he quickly regained his composure. Given his extensive encounters with the myriad enigmas and inconceivable phenomena at reality’s brink, he began to discern the significance behind the entity’s statement.

“And how is this ‘proof’ supposed to manifest?”

“It will materialize once you heed my appeal,” the Black Sun declared with a deliberate pace.

Duncan lapsed into contemplation, weighing his options.

“You are free to take your time over my offer,” the voice of the Black Sun resonated with a patient tone as the tendrils retracted into the fiery aura surrounding it. “I recognize your hesitancy and the skepticism you harbor—the ‘Black Sun’ has indeed been the source of many a catastrophe in this world, and while I may not pose as your foe, I have yet to earn your trust.”

Then, Duncan shifted the dialogue, probing deeper with a query, “Is it a place for yourself you seek? For the ‘offspring’ now faded from your memory? Or is it for something else entirely…”

“For our civilization,” replied the Black Sun, its voice now a mere whisper, laden with nostalgia, “A civilization that once flourished.”

Through this exchange, the ancient entity, the Black Sun, conveyed its deep-seated desire not only for the cessation of its existence but for the preservation of its legacy within the fabric of a potential new world. Faced with the weight of this request, Duncan found himself at a crossroads between skepticism and the potential for unforeseen possibilities, pondering the implications of their impending agreement.