Aurelion limped toward the exit of the tunnel.
His leg screamed with every step. The wound on his side had opened again, blood seeping through his clothes, staining the water that still clung to him. The shards on his back hummed softly, a constant presence, a constant weight that pressed against his spine like a second heartbeat.
But he kept moving.
The corridor stretched before him, dark and silent. The symbols on the walls—the spiral—pulsed faintly, as if reacting to his presence, to the shards, to him. Gatekeeper's light pushed back the shadows, casting long, wavering shapes on the stone. The white glow illuminated carvings he hadn't noticed before, faces, figures, scenes of battle and sacrifice.
He walked past them, his eyes fixed on the exit ahead.
The passage opened into a larger chamber, the same one he had entered through. The water was there, dark and still, waiting. It filled the chamber like a black mirror, reflecting nothing, promising everything.
But it didn't enter the tunnel.
He stopped at the threshold, staring.
The water hung at the edge of the chamber like a curtain, held back by an invisible barrier. It didn't flow in. It didn't seep through. It just... waited. The surface was perfectly still, perfectly flat, as if the water itself was holding its breath.
Aurelion stepped closer. The barrier shimmered faintly, like heat haze, like light through water. He reached out, his fingers brushing the surface.
It was warm. Alive. Familiar.
The city is protecting itself, he realized. Or protecting something inside it.
He stepped through.
The water engulfed him.
Cold, crushing, absolute. The pressure returned, pressing against him, his bones, his will. The shards on his back hummed louder, resonating with the city, with the water, with him. The sound vibrated through his chest, through his skull, through his very soul.
He swam upward, Gatekeeper in his hand, the blade pulsing with white light. The darkness pressed against him, but the light pushed it back, a beacon in the abyss. The water was so dark that the light only reached a few feet in any direction, leaving everything beyond it to the imagination—and imagination, in a place like this, was a dangerous thing.
He had to find the others. Had to tell them what he had found.
He swam faster.
His leg screamed with each kick. The wound on his side throbbed with each stroke. The shards on his back dragged at him, pulling him down, slowing him. But he didn't stop. Couldn't stop.
The demon appeared from the darkness like a ghost.
It was the same one from before—massive, scaled, its body covered in glistening plates that seemed to absorb the light. Its limbs were webbed, its claws curved and cruel, its jaws filled with rows of needle-sharp teeth that gleamed even in the black. Its eyes glowed with cold blue light, ancient and patient and hungry.
It was drifting through the water, slow and languid, its tail swaying gently. It was hunting, but not for him. Not yet. Its attention was fixed on something in the distance.
Aurelion froze.
Stay still, he thought. Stay quiet. It'll pass.
His heart pounded in his chest. His lungs burned. The cold was seeping through his suit, through his skin, into his blood.
But it wouldn't pass. It was circling, looping back, its path taking it directly toward him. Its tail swayed, its claws flexed, its jaws opened slightly, tasting the water.
Aurelion tightened his grip on Gatekeeper. The blade pulsed. The white light flickered.
The demon turned.
It saw him.
Its eyes locked onto his. Those cold blue orbs, ancient and empty, fixed on him with the focus of a predator that had finally found its prey.
Its jaws opened wide.
Aurelion plunged Gatekeeper into its side.
The blade sank deep—deeper than he expected. Black ichor clouded the water around them, thick and dark, obscuring everything. The demon thrashed, its tail whipping through the water with enough force to crack stone. Its claws raked the wall, sending chunks of rock spinning into the abyss.
But it didn't die.
It didn't even slow.
The wound was already closing, the ichor already fading, the scales already knitting back together. The demon turned, its eyes blazing with cold fury, its jaws snapping at him.
Aurelion pulled Gatekeeper free and swam backward, his mind racing.
The blade isn't enough, he thought. It's too strong. Too fast. Too...
He looked around the environment. The walls of the crevice were narrow, the stone rough and jagged. The water was still, dark, cold. There were outcroppings of rock, clusters of stone that had fallen from the walls above.
The environment, he thought. I need to use the environment.
He swam toward the wall, dodging the demon's claws. The creature followed, its massive body scraping against the stone, sending vibrations through the water. Its tail slammed into the wall behind him, shattering stone, sending debris raining down.
Aurelion reached the wall and pressed his hand against it. His mana flared—not a burst, not a blast. A pull.
He drew the oxygen out of the water.
It was a technique he had learned in his past life—a trick of mana manipulation, a way to create vacuums, to suffocate enemies without lifting a finger. He had used it in battles on land, in the air, against demons and rivals alike.
He had never used it underwater.
The water around the demon began to bubble. Not from heat—from absence. The oxygen was being pulled away, drawn into Aurelion's palm, compressed into a sphere of shimmering gas that glowed with a faint, ethereal light.
The demon lunged.
It came at him faster than he expected, its jaws wide, its claws extended. The water around it was thinning, the oxygen being drained, but the creature was too enraged to notice, too focused on its prey to understand what was happening.
Aurelion barely had time to move—he twisted sideways, the demon's body slamming into the cliff where he had been standing.
The impact was tremendous. Stone shattered. The cliff behind him crumbled, chunks of rock raining down, sealing off the tunnel he had come through. Dust and debris filled the water, clouding everything.
Aurelion floated in the water, gasping, his heart pounding. His vision swam. His leg screamed.
The demon turned. Its eyes blazed. It was angry now—not just hungry, not just hunting. Furious. Its jaws snapped, its claws flexed, its tail lashed the water.
It lunged again.
Aurelion swam toward the crumbling cliff. The demon followed, its massive body scraping against the stone, its claws gouging deep furrows in the rock. The oxygen sphere in his hand pulsed, growing brighter, hotter.
Drop the cliff on it, he thought. I need to drop the cliff on it.
He swam directly toward the weakened wall, letting the demon gain on him. He could feel its presence behind him, its claws reaching, its jaws opening. The cold blue light of its eyes pressed against his back like a physical force.
At the last second, he dove.
The demon slammed into the cliff.
Stone exploded.
The entire wall collapsed, tons of rock raining down on the creature's massive body. The demon thrashed, pinned, trapped. Its tail whipped wildly, its claws scraped against the stone, its jaws snapped at the darkness. The oxygen sphere in Aurelion's hand pulsed once, twice, then faded.
The demon's thrashing grew weaker. Its struggles grew slower. The weight of the stone was too much, the pressure too great.
Its eyes dimmed.