Conan: Begins to collaborate with Miss Bayonetta and become famous

Chapter 841 Ruins of the Northern Territory (3)

"Why... is there no hit display?" The first mate's voice sounded like a dream, and it was particularly abrupt in the silent command cabin.

He stared at the empty screen, his face filled with confusion.

"Captain..." The weapons officer's voice trembled, his relief at having survived the ordeal completely drowned out by a deeper, cold confusion. "The enemy ship... has disappeared."

"Yes," the helmsman turned his head, his face pale, as if recounting a nightmare that even he couldn't believe, "it suddenly disappeared... It was like it evaporated."

The crew members looked at each other, whispering their shock and confusion, and a strange and depressing atmosphere filled the command cabin.

"What the hell is going on here..." The weapons officer's brows were twisted into a knot. If he had to give an explanation, it would only be... a ghost.

To be honest...he was a staunch materialist, but this experience still caused him to waver.

The corners of the captain's mouth twitched uncontrollably, an expression between wild laughter and collapse flickered on his face, and his stubble was wet with cold sweat.

He let out a long, relieved breath, forced a relaxed smile, looked at the first mate, and said casually, "It seems... we were just chasing an illusion, a fucking ghost signal."

"But it was clearly there just now." The first mate raised his eyebrows and pointed at the screen where traces of data were still visible. "All the sensors, sonar echoes... all the equipment won't lie collectively."

"But today is an exception!" The captain's tone suddenly became firm, with an unquestionable finality. He needed to immediately stabilize the morale of the troops. "Weapons officer, shut down all torpedo launch programs! Immediately!"

"Yes! Captain!" The weapons officer quickly opened the metal cover of the control panel and pressed the large red emergency stop button. "Shutting down the torpedo launch program!"

"Attention everyone!" The captain grabbed the radio and his voice spread to every corner. "Disarm the enemy! I repeat, disarm the enemy! The crisis is over!"

With a command, the nerves that were tense to the limit suddenly relaxed.

The crew members almost collapsed at their posts, some leaned back with their heads rested, gasping for breath, and some stared at the cold metal ceiling in a daze, as if they had just crawled back from the gates of hell and never wanted to experience it again.

"Damn it..." A young helmsman looked down at his crotch and muttered with a sense of humor, "I almost... I almost ended up in the Arctic Ocean."

"Hahahahahaha!" The laughter that had been suppressed for a long time finally broke out, dispelling some of the fear.

"That's why we're conducting sea trials," the captain said, taking a sip of his now-cold coffee, trying to regain his composure. "The system...apparently, there are flaws we haven't foreseen."

Just when everyone was enveloped in this false peace—

"Captain!!" The weapons officer's scream pierced the warming atmosphere like an icicle! His fingers frantically hammered at the unresponsive red button, his face drained of all color. "The torpedoes aren't responding! The command is invalid! They... they've turned around and are heading towards us!"

The helmsman also noticed the deadly trajectory on the screen. His eyes were instantly consumed by immense fear, as if he were watching a live broadcast of his own death. "We've been locked on! It's our torpedo! 400 meters away! Approaching at high speed!"

"Fuck!" The first mate cursed and slammed his fist on the console. His worst guess became a reality! He rushed to the weapons officer's side.

"Use the backup cable control! Force close it!!" The captain's hands began to tremble uncontrollably and his voice lost its composure.

The first mate frantically pressed every backup button and even slammed his fist on the control panel! "Bang! Bang!" The only response he got was the sound of cold metal and the shrinking death light on the screen!

"The torpedo is still approaching! 200 meters!!" The helmsman's counting voice turned into a desperate wail!

Despair was like cold sea water, instantly flooding the entire command cabin.

Some people took out the crosses they carried with them, kissed them tightly, and began to pray in a low voice; some people looked ashen, sat slumped in place, waiting for the final judgment.

The captain completely shed his mask of composure, roughly shoved the helmsman aside, and rushed to the control console, roaring with all his might, his voice cracking: "Emergency surface! Release all water from the main ballast tanks! Immediately! Sound the collision alarm!"

Before he finished speaking -

"boom!!!!!!!"

A dull and terrifying roar came through the heavy hull, like the death knell of hell!

Several of its own torpedoes slammed into the helpless steel whale!

The huge shock wave caused the entire submarine to vibrate and roll violently like a toy!

The cabin was instantly in chaos! Lights flickered and went out! Equipment debris flew everywhere!

The crew members who lost the restraint of gravity were thrown up like rag dolls and slammed hard against the cold metal bulkheads and instruments!

The sound of breaking bones, desperate screams and the harsh sound of twisting metal interweave into a symphony of doomsday!

And in that dark spherical chamber, the core screen of the "Horseshoe" was emitting a faint blue light.

Countless streams of particles converged and spun as if they had life, eventually forming a huge, cold, emotionless blue pupil.

It "gazes" at all this quietly, as if admiring its own masterpiece.

During this time, there was a whisper like that from hell, which was creepy.

That look was so smart and creepy, filled with an icy ambition that went beyond the norm and an indifference that seemed to control everything.

The huge water pressure began to squeeze the broken hull mercilessly, making it emit a teeth-grinding groan.

This once invincible deep-sea behemoth, like a broken-winged iron bird, dragged its shattered body and countless bubbles as it plummeted towards the ten-thousand-meter abyss...

Finally, it landed heavily beside the dark cliff on the seabed, letting out a dull, final sigh.

After a moment of dead silence, something slowly floated out from the broken hull.

It wasn't debris, it was dozens of bodies in Russian naval uniforms.

They drifted silently and slowly upwards, and were eventually trapped forever by the thick ice above them, becoming a silent and terrifying ice tomb at the bottom of this white desert.

Before sinking completely into darkness, the blue "eye" seemed to flicker for the last time, like a cold mockery from the abyss.