Wayland stared at the rusty, familiar iron frame.
"It's an anchor," Arisa Kano confirmed. She could see everything through the camera in his helmet.
Wayland shook his head in disappointment and resumed his journey along the designated path.
For the next two hours--up until his first air tank change--Wayland's survey was essentially a tour through a deep-sea junkyard.
He found tattered fishing nets, aluminum cans crushed into tiny balls by the pressure, massive sheets of plastic, and various fragments of sunken ships.
Taking a deep breath of fresh air once he surfaced, he felt his spirits lift a little.
A few minutes later, the surface crew had swapped out his oxygen tanks.
"Thank you."
Wayland descended once more, finding his previous position on the sonar map and continuing his advance.
['Master, I've found something.']
Half an hour later, Irigal--who had been quiet for some time--suddenly spoke up.
'Where is it?'
'At your six o'clock position. Walk straight for about five hundred meters, and you'll see a cluster of white coral.'
'That far?' Wayland was a bit surprised.
['Of course! My system's detection range is top-tier!'] Irigal's voice was filled with pride.
A small smile played across Wayland's lips, but he didn't say anything. He checked his sonar map and slightly adjusted his course.
Fifteen minutes later, the coral Irigal had mentioned came into view.
In the dim, murky water, clusters of snow-white coral that looked like miniature heads of cauliflower were gathered together, forming an elegant archway.
It was striking, and undeniably beautiful.
Wayland walked close enough to touch it. 'Is the thing you found part of this white coral?'
['No. Search around the base.']
'Not a magical signature... and not metal, either?'
Wayland checked his instruments, but they showed no reaction. He detached his floodlight and set it on the seabed, pointing the beam directly at the coral.
Using both hands, he began to sift through the layer of fine white silt at the base of the reef.
The coral wasn't that large, and he quickly reached the end of his search.
His right hand brushed against something hard. He pulled the object closer and wiped away the dust.
A conch shell.
It had a grayish-yellow spiral, its surface rough with neatly arranged ridges and grooves. The aperture was wide and a beautiful apricot-red, with a shimmering, pearlescent luster.
'What's so special about this?'
['Clear away the silt that's blocking the opening,'] Irigal said, her voice mysterious.
Wayland searched the immediate area and found a small, sturdy branch of dead coral. He began to scrape away the mud.
"It's nothing..." Wayland started to say, but suddenly, his head felt heavy. It wasn't a strong sensation--more like the slight dizziness someone feels after standing up too quickly.
'Have you... have you heard that sound?' Wayland shook his head, trying to clear his vision.
['Oh no! I forgot you can't resist it yet! Quick! Master, notify your team!']
"Code-name 112... contact..." Wayland's head was spinning now, as if he'd just downed several shots of strong liquor. Realizing something was terribly wrong, he used the last of his strength to shout, "Arisa Kano!"
"What is it? Code-name 112, what's happened?"
There was no response.
"Code-name 112?"
"112!"
Arisa Kano stood up from her station. "Captain! We've lost contact with Code-name 112, Wayland!"
Hishiri Adashino, sitting in the bridge, felt her expression shift. She walked over to the main screen.
In the quadrant reserved for Wayland's feed, the conch shell sat silently in the palm of his hand.
"Arisa Kano, switch to the external camera," Hishiri commanded.
"Understood!"
Arisa sat back down and keyed in a series of commands.
The multi-quadrant display shifted, the other feeds vanishing to leave only Wayland's view.
On the seabed, a secondary camera on the back of Wayland's suit suddenly deployed, its mechanical arm extending and rotating into position.
The feed showed a wide-angle view of the surrounding area.
Through the murky depths, Wayland was visible standing before the white coral reef. The conch shell was held flat in his palm, his body frozen in place like a statue solidified in the deep.
The other bridge crew members who had been focused on their own stations looked up at the massive screen.
"Is it an illusion?"
The speaker was the man sitting directly to Hishiri's left. He swiveled his chair to face the screen, stroking his thick beard with a look of uncertainty.
"Pascal Edward, go on."
Hishiri crossed her arms over her chest.
Pascal Edward was the captain of the third team within the Department of Policies' twelve units. He was an "Opening" ranked magus from the General Fundamentals department who specialized in illusions.
In the world of magecraft, "Illusion" refers to an interference with the target's psyche, projecting a false reality into the physical world.
The simplest illusions would twist a person's mind, leaving them dazed or trapped in a nightmare.
The most advanced could create massive, world-altering phantasms--like a mirage--that could deceive an entire population.
[Translated and Rewritten by Shika_Kagura]