Rhodes Island does not exist.

“Curiosity can get you killed,” Skadi sighed. “But there’s no point in saying that now, since we’re still here and can’t leave even if we wanted to.”

“Actually, I’ve read some documents and local folk records about Agor.” The doctor stared at the same spot as Skadi, watching the huge tentacles gradually emerge from beneath the sea, his expression indifferent. “Documents are history, records are stories. History is rigorous and formal, stories are bizarre and dramatic, but when it comes to Agor, both history and stories choose to remain silent.”

"I initially thought this was due to some kind of xenophobia in the area, but now it seems I was only half right."

The doctor shook his head and said with a hint of a sigh.

“Tell me about it.” Skadi shifted her gaze from the swarm of tentacles on the sea surface to the Doctor.

“I think most Iberians have probably never actually faced the deep sea,” the doctor said slowly. “They feel more of an innate fear of the unknown regarding what lies beneath the surface, which is why they reject the Agorians.”

"why?"

“Because of information asymmetry,” the doctor said. “Imagine you live in a small town with a large underground Originium waste landfill, and the town is inhabited by a group of people who could go insane at any moment. They even know the exact location of those landfills, have been to them, and know the current state of the Originium waste, whether it can infect crops through the soil, and whether it is toxic or volatile, etc.—what would you do?”

“Generally speaking, there are only two outcomes,” the doctor said. “Either you run, or they get out of here. There is no third option.”

"Because you worry every day about what the underground Originium landfill is really like, constantly developing a fear of its unknown existence, but your neighbors not only know everything, but they also don't tell you." The doctor shrugged. "Isn't that the situation in the Deep Sea right now?"

"The unknown is frightening, but those who know the unknown and do not share it are even more frightening," he concluded. "But why does Agor remain silent about this? Is it because he cannot express it, or because he cannot describe it?"

This question is directed at Skadi.

After all, she is now practically the only pure-blooded Agorian left in Iberia.

“Because it is something engraved deep in Agor’s bloodline,” Skadi replied to the doctor. “From the moment you came into this world, that whisper will accompany you throughout your life.”

“It will constantly urge you back to your hometown, constantly lure you on your journey home, and sometimes when you come to your senses from your daze, you will find that you have unconsciously turned your body toward the direction of Agor.” Skadi shook her head. “And this feeling is something that cannot be shared.”

"So, what will happen if I face the deep sea this time?" the doctor asked.

"How many versions of the story of the Great Quiet have you heard?" Skadi didn't answer this time, but instead answered the question with a question.

“Three.” The doctor held up three fingers.

A story about killing each other.

One about a ferocious beast hunting its prey.

A story about shared hatred of the enemy.

“So which one do you believe?” Skadi asked. “Every story claims to be true, and having heard all three, you obviously understand that each of them has its own logic—because during your travels, you have witnessed firsthand how these three stories are reflected in reality.”

"Will you tell me the correct answer?" the Doctor answered Skadi's question with a question in return, "If there really is a correct answer."

“I won’t tell you the correct answer,” Skadi shook her head, “but the correct answer exists.”

"You mean..."

“Face the deep sea, and you will get the right answer you’re looking for,” Skadi said. “Also, considering you just saved me from the brink of madness, I can give you another piece of advice when facing the deep sea.”

"I'm all ears," the doctor nodded, adopting a humble posture.

"Then listen carefully—"

The moment Skadi spoke, the world suddenly fell silent.

The doctor could only see the woman in front of him opening her mouth to say something, her face as cold as ever, unchanged even after dying once, her lips opening and closing.

What is Skadi saying?

The doctor couldn't hear.

But what he couldn't hear wasn't just Skadi's voice.

He could no longer hear any of the sounds from the beach.

Waves crashed against the shore, tides surged, the army clamored, schools of fish leaped, the sea breeze blew, and clouds rolled.

Everything was abandoned by his world and torn apart to the extreme.

Then, even the tentacles and whirlpools that had just surfaced disappeared.

The dark clouds dissipated, and the sea became calm.

All discord vanished in silence, like a sandcastle swallowed by the tide.

Skadi, the Punishers, the Papal Knights, and all living things except him became part of all discord, vanished, disappeared, faded away.

The stars twinkled behind the clouds, and two bright crescent moons hung in the sky.

The moonlight is so beautiful.

A black silk tapestry hangs down, drawing the painted night sky down to connect with the sea, and in the center of that calm, night-like sea stands a serene figure.

Chapter 134, Chapter 133: Deep Sea Tales, Chapter 67: Thin Darkness

The doctor couldn't see what it was.

Because it has no concrete shape, no elegant and luxurious sound, only a shallow and indistinct shadow.

It doesn't even have light and shadow relationships or perspective structure.

No matter how the two moons rotate in the sky, or how the sea breeze blows, it remains unchanged.

It stood there, neither vying for the brilliance of the stars nor for the beauty of the moonlight, and the doctor simply gazed at it.

The passage of time is meaningless in this scene.

The doctor had no idea why everything around him had changed so drastically, nor did he understand whether the world he was in was an illusion or reality.

But he knew one thing clearly.

Now, there are only him and it here, and nothing else.

So the doctor slightly raised his hand towards that being.

Unsurprisingly, he touched it.

Although it was located on the sea surface perhaps hundreds of meters away from the doctor, he still felt a real touch when he overlapped his finger with it in his field of vision.

No, that's probably hard to call a tactile sensation.

Because the doctor's fingers didn't actually feel anything.

It was merely a vague, ethereal synesthesia that traveled from his fingers into his brain.

In that instant, the doctor understood.

What are the whispers of the Agor people? What do the Agor people carry throughout their lives? And—what exactly exists beneath the deep sea?

Then, it was as if he heard it.

No, that's still not listening, but synesthesia.

Just as seeing red evokes warmth and seeing cyan evokes coldness, he sensed a kind of laughter in the things his fingers brushed against.

The laughter did not originate from humans or animals, but from a sound never heard before.

The figure standing alone on the sea swayed for a moment, and then the sound grew even louder.

The gray tide surged up from my ankles, over my calves, and soaked my knees.

But that thing, that existence, remains unchanged.

Nothing changes.

It's as if it hasn't changed at all since the beginning of Terra's creation.

The whispers continued to travel through my fingers, transforming into synesthetic sounds that flooded my nerves.

But the PhD student couldn't understand a word.

In his travels throughout Terra, he mastered the languages ​​of almost every civilization on the land, including the now-extinct Gaul. Therefore, having already made a preliminary study of Terran linguistics, he understood an axiom existing on the continent.

All languages ​​are linked by language families. Once you learn one language, you can use it as a key to learn another language that is closely related to it.

However, after the doctor listened attentively and analyzed the swirling words, he realized that these words did not exist in any of the language families of Terra that he knew.

Even the Iberian language, which is closest to Agor, has no connection to those words and phrases.

But that makes sense, since Iberian belongs to the Lateran and Syracusan language families, and is not closely related to Agor in terms of origin.

In other words, this is an independent language.

The one who invented and uses this language is undoubtedly an entity independent of all civilizations on Terra.

A wise man from Letania once said...

The boundaries of language are the boundaries of thought.

Language is the framework of thought; different linguistic phenomena correspond to different thought phenomena. Even among groups speaking different languages, there exist completely different worlds of thought. This is because language is a cognitive concept, a cognitive means, and a foundation for thinking; without language, all thought would collapse.

So, does language limit thinking, or does language create thinking?

Feeling the chaotic whispers and unfamiliar words between his fingers, the doctor fell into confusion.

The tide continued to rise, swimming from the knees to the thighs, and from the thighs to the waist.

The doctor confidently declared that he wanted to have a dialogue with the deep sea.

But this dialogue ultimately failed to materialize.

The chasm of language is like an insurmountable chasm, the barrier of language is like a towering cliff; even if one possesses a thousand tools to climb it, one will ultimately be unable to take a single step forward.

Realizing this, the doctor recalled the vision of great stillness he had seen earlier.

Groups of bizarre, indescribable creatures emerged from the sea and began their assault on the beach as night fell.

The reason they cannot be described or expressed is that the generality of language dictates that it cannot fully express all the connotations contained in things.

Because language is ultimately abstract; it is merely a set of symbols.

Randomly piling up symbols will only result in a pile of garbage.

"Analysis."

The seawater reached the doctor's lower abdomen, and he began to realize what he should do now.

The surge of energy flowed into the doctor's nerves.

He began to immerse himself in the whispers brought about by synesthesia and gazed at the presence that had not moved at all from the beginning.

However, all of them failed.

Although he was able to pick out words with the same or similar pronunciations from the constant whispers, he still couldn't understand the specific meanings of those words.

After all, this is a language completely different from any civilization in Terra.

The seawater reached up to the doctor's chest.

The dark gray tide tightly bound his freedom to breathe, and the pressure from the water squeezed and threatened his lungs, making his breathing heavy and his oxygen levels drop.

But the thinking doesn't stop there.

Since he was there to communicate with the deep sea, all fear and madness were meaningless to him.

Scholars are fearless of death precisely because of their intense thirst for knowledge.

"If I hear the Way in the morning, I can die content in the evening."

If dialogue fails, then try to understand the other person's language and learn it. No one is born omniscient and omnipotent; the evolution and development of everything is based on repeated learning.

People like him will live on the path of pursuing ideals and knowledge until they leave this world.

The whispers continued.

Even as the bitter, icy seawater completely submerged his fingers, which he used for synesthesia, and even as the rising tide completely washed over his neck, about to reach his unyielding and resolute head, his analysis of the whispers continued.

The twin moons in the night sky gradually emerged as crescent moons, like two smiling faces. Beyond those smiles, the stars gradually dimmed.

The tide eventually drowned the PhD.

His breathing began to become blocked, and unable to obtain even a trace of oxygen from the seawater, he was slowly being suffocated.

But his gaze remained fixed on that being unaffected by any environment or external factors, exchanging synesthesia with it.

Even just one sentence would be appreciated.

He wanted to communicate with it as long as he could understand its words and comprehend the meaning in its whispers, even if it was just a single word.

Until a sigh reached his ears.

That's not synesthesia.

That was clearly audible hearing.

A sigh disrupted all his thoughts, and the progress of his analysis was completely restructured, reverting to its initial state. His gaze also shifted from that being, severing their synesthesia.