Edit Note: Any dialogue spoken through telepathy will not be italicized
Chapter 162: Deep Into The Unknown
As the cube settled over Seo-jin's forces, the space around them shuddered once, vibrated through bone and gear, and then cinched tight, after which black swallowed everything. At the same time that all sound and pressure vanished, the sharp rise of salt mixed with biological rot that anyone from Shatterbay would recognize began to fill everyone's senses.
The smell of the ocean.
Texture came first, coarse wood pressed into Snare's palms and the smooth, cooling weight of his new robes settling against his body. He felt a surge of focus as his thoughts snapped toward the dungeon and what it could offer, especially the chance to cement his position at the Broodfather's side, a position that had begun to feel less stable by the minute.
That focus shattered the instant the dungeon finished forming, replaced by a sudden, crushing panic that wrapped his chest and squeezed.
"Gla-hat?!"
His hands flew to his throat as his body tried to surge forward, but his limbs kicked uselessly through empty resistance, meeting nothing but frigid water that stole heat and leverage at the same time, and as his eyes adjusted the truth landed hard. The dungeon was fully submerged, and he was already drowning.
'This makes no sense!'
He craned his head upward, or at least what he thought was upward, but the distinction collapsed immediately because every direction looked the same, an endless spread of water broken only by the bodies that had come in with him.
Synapse, John, and Snare's fifty lesser broodlings drifted nearby, almost all of them clawing at their own throats and kicking in blind panic, with the lone exception of Synapse, who hovered in place with steady posture, eyes moving as he assessed the surroundings.
'This can't be it, there has to be a mechanism. A dungeon doesn't just drop you into death.'
As the tightness in his chest edged toward collapse, Snare forced himself to slow, copying Synapse's stillness and buying seconds by refusing to thrash, and in that narrow margin his vision caught movement off to one side, subtle but deliberate. With nothing else to act on, he angled his body and started swimming toward it. Frustration building at his lack of sight.
Ignoring the lessers as their bodies went slack, and refusing to acknowledge the heat tightening in his chest, he forced his arms and legs to keep working as he pushed toward the shape ahead, but the distance refused to close and his vision thinned, edges washing out as everything dulled toward grey. Sound started to collapse, then pressure, and then...
[Mark Of Thuldan // Applied]
[All who bear the mark of the sea god will be granted the Boon of the Abyss while inside the Vent Cathedral.]
Pain flared across the sides of Snare's neck, hot and tearing for a split second before it inverted into relief. Air surged into his lungs in a violent rush, oxygen flooding tissue that had been seconds from failure. His body convulsed as he coughed and dragged breath after breath, limbs finally regaining strength as the world steadied.
'A buff?'
'It's strange you sound surprised.'
He twisted hard toward the voice, only to realize the sound hadn't traveled through water, but had formed directly inside his thoughts. When his eyes settled, he saw Synapse nearby, rotating his body with slow, deliberate movements as he tested buoyancy and control. John and the lesser broodlings clustered around themselves, fingers tracing unfamiliar ridges along their necks as they experimented with breathing.
Snare drew in to snap back, aggression already lining the thought, but Synapse's voice cut through before he could release it.
'The telepathy is unexpected. There may be additional alterations. Snare, can you identify any other changes?'
With awkward sweeps of his hands, Synapse rolled to present his back, holding still long enough to be examined.
Curling his lip, Snare turned away without answering, and kicked off toward John, leaving his brother suspended.
'You okay?'
Still scraping at the fresh slits along his neck, John forced the motion to stop, tested a breath, then gave a short nod.
'I'm fine. Looks like we lost a couple though.'
He angled his chin toward several lesser broodlings drifting nearby, bodies slack and unresponsive, lungs never large enough to hold out until the mark took hold. The moment passed, then his eyes snapped wide as a realization hit, and with a sharp motion John's hand filled with system light, solidifying into several vials clenched tight in his grip.
Snare's brow drew down.
'Are you hurt?'
The human shook his head and lifted one vial to his mouth, popping the seal with his teeth before draining it. A difficult feat underwater, but he managed.
'These aren't health potions. That one wipes my aura. This one kills my scent. This one cuts aggro chance in half.'
The admission pulled a flicker of respect from Snare despite himself; he'd expected liability, not preparation, and seeing the speed and order of it forced him to reassess how lightly he'd judged the humans.
John caught the underestimating look immediately. He always did. That narrowing, measuring stare was more than familiar.
'I've been a runner run for the Dead Hands for years. Kits like this are entry-level. You don't survive long if you wait to prep until things go bad.'
Scanning the dark, the human narrowed his eyes and strained for shape or distance, but the water swallowed everything beyond arm's reach until he tipped back a vial of purple fluid and his pupils flared, vision stretching outward as the effect took hold.
'How deep are we?'
The reply came steady, Synapse's tone unchanged as he drifted in place.
'No way to tell. But those should be the vents referenced in the cathedral's designation.'
Both John and Snare could see him holding position near the same area where Snare had noticed movement earlier, and irritation gave way to interest as Snare pushed off and swam closer. John passed him almost immediately, his strokes tight and efficient, and after watching the cadence for a moment Snare adjusted his own form, feeling the resistance lessen as his speed picked up.
'It's only a working theory, but this is likely the source of the buff we received. Whatever they're expelling is dispersing through the water. There has to be calcium and protein in the mix, otherwise I cannot think of what else they could be feeding on.'
Snare froze mid-stroke.
'Feed on? Wait—what's feeding?'
Synapse lifted a hand and pointed, indicating something still beyond Snare's range of sight, a gap that grated at him as he kicked forward. He had the best eyesight out of the entire brood, but down here he felt useless, constrained. Finally, the seabed resolved beneath them, and as the distance closed a jagged stone spire rose into view, its base widening until the source of Synapse's attention became clear.
Dozens of massive insect shapes clung to the vent's mouth, bodies anchored against the flow while long feelers sifted the particles drifting out of the black, smoke-thick plume. Their mandibles worked constantly along the rim, scraping algae and residue from the stone as they fed.
About the size of a lesser broodling, they were nothing but mass. Squat, thick bodies wrapped in overlapping plates, with a thin membrane running the edges where limbs should have been, built for pushing water rather than gripping stone. Their hides matched the surrounding rock in dull grey, which explained why he'd missed them at first; only now, with his focus locked and their bodies in motion, did they separate from the background.
Snare didn't know what they were, but he felt their presence without effort. Every one of them carried the weight of a C-rank aura.
A cold deeper than the open water crept along Snare's spine, the kind of feeling that settled when instincts recognized a overwhelming threat.
Sensing the spike through the broodlink, Synapse adjusted his stroke and closed the distance, water peeling away from his limbs as he moved into Snare's path.
'They're not reacting like predators.'
Synapse was calm, his attention split between the vents and his brother.
'No pursuit, no targeting. They won't touch you unless you do something stupid.'
'Stupid?!'
Bloodlust bled off Snare in visible pulses as his grip tightened, the staff rotating in his hands while his gaze burned into Synapse's back.
'Uh—guys?'
John's warning vanished under the rising pressure as Snare leveled his staff, the motion sharp enough to send a ripple through the water.
'Don't take another stroke!'
Bloodlight leaked as his breathing hitched, every muscle coiling tight; the hierarchy had slipped, and before anything else happened, it needed to be corrected, even if that meant settling it with force.
Feeling the edge of that intent bite into him, Synapse exhaled and rolled in the water, turning to face Snare head-on.
'Did I offend you?'
'You think I don't see what you're doing, but I do—!'
'Snare.'
'You might think you're clever, but next to me you're—!'
'SNARE!'
John finally cut through the exchange, both broodlings snapping their attention toward him.
'What?!'
Already frantically swimming toward them, John's arms churned hard as panic widened his eyes.
'SWIM!'
Shock flickered for a heartbeat on the two broodlings before hardening into fear. The bugs had turned and surged, a dense front of bodies pushing water aside, mandibles clacking in a single, accelerating rhythm behind John.
Without hesitation, the brothers kicked off in opposite directions, legs driving hard as they tore through the water. John's voice cracked, sharp with confusion.
'What the fuck—which way?!'
Twisting mid-stroke, Snare caught sight of John hanging between them, eyes darting as Synapse pulled away.
'Follow me, you idiot!'
'Negative. Broodfather's vector is this direction.'
Anger collapsed into a tight knot of shame, but there was no space to contest it. Snare snapped his tongue in frustration and angled after Synapse, burning the last option he had to buy distance.
'Hold them.'
The order carried through the broodlink without delay. As Snare and John drove forward, arms and legs churning to keep pace, the space behind them folded into violence where the two forces collided, water erupting into chaotic currents stained red almost instantly.
His lessers were torn apart in moments, their attacks breaking uselessly against plated bodies, but they did what they were meant to do, bodies locking the enemy just long enough.
Slipping into the dark beyond the vent's reach, Snare, Synapse, and John pushed until the pressure eased. When they finally slowed, Snare extended his senses and confirmed it, the swarm's presence fading behind them as they kept moving forward.
'We can ease up. They aren't pursuing.'
Muscle burn crept through his arms and legs as John stopped and let himself drift, chest heaving as he fought to slow his breathing. He was built low and compact, capable in the water but never meant for sustained movement like this.
'Seriously, what the hell was that? Why'd they rush us like that?'
Snare already understood the cause, but the words stuck in his throat. Synapse didn't share the restraint.
'Snare's bloodlust provoked their response. The fact that the swarm disengaged after eliminating the lessers confirms it. We now know the trigger condition, so the loss bought us usable information.'
The urge to lash out crawled through his claws, loud and ugly, demanding release, but Snare swallowed it down. He knew he was at fault, even if admitting it felt worse than the attack itself.
Pulling his arms back into motion, he angled forward and resumed swimming, following the steady drag of the broodlink through the dark.
'Keep moving. Those things won't be the only threats in here.'
With a tired exhale, John kicked off and followed, eyes cutting through the water in short, anxious sweeps. Synapse gave a brief nod, then reached into his throat and drew free his rifle, settling it into his grip before pushing off, tail and legs working together as he closed the distance and held pace without effort.
Snare focused ahead, forcing himself not to watch his younger brother while unconsciously copying his stroke whenever he could get away with it, frustration simmering as he convinced himself he'd been saddled with the weakest possible group.
He was wrong, and the dungeon was already lining up the proof.
----
'Help me!'
Arms and legs drove hard as Lynn forced herself forward, every stroke tearing at her muscles as her body fought to keep in motion. Her face had gone dark with strain, veins standing out as breath and strength bled away. Around her, hundreds of lesser broodlings thrashed and kicked in tight, panicked formation, each one moving slower than the last as exhaustion culled them from the brood.
Blood stretched behind the group in widening ribbons, thinning as it spread, marking their path with unmistakable clarity.
Death followed within the trail.
Riding a massive eel, the figure closed the distance without urgency, one hand resting loose against the creature's slick hide while the other balanced a jagged staff of pale light. His pace never changed. The eel did the work, its long body rolling through the water in controlled waves, muscle driving muscle with no wasted motion. Its eyes shone with a cold, alert focus, tracking the fleeing shapes ahead, tracking which would falter next.
The humanoid rider wore a calm smile that didn't reach his eyes. Those glowed a clean, unnatural green, fixed on Lynn as if the chaos around her barely registered. Hair like layered fronds drifted around his shoulders, each strand moving with the water as though it were alive. He didn't lean forward. He didn't urge the mount on. He let inevitability do the chasing.
The eel surged just enough to close on the stragglers. When a lesser broodling slowed, its jaws snapped shut with precision, teeth punching through flesh and bone in one clean bite. The eel's mouth curved, a mockery of a grin, as it fed without breaking rhythm.
Behind it, blood spread thin and wide, and ahead of it, Lynn swam harder, knowing, without needing to look back, that the thing following her had all the time in the world.
She was seconds from failure, muscles burning through every stroke while the potions did nothing to mask her presence, not with a swarm this large dragging its insanity behind her. Direction was all she had left, a blind commitment to motion and the thin chance that she'd chosen correctly, that someone, anyone, would cross her path before her body gave out.
That chance was collapsing fast.
Ahead, there was nothing but water and depth, an unbroken stretch of black that offered no cover, no turn, no mercy.
It was in this bleak moment, just as her body was about to give, that suddenly, a lance of light tore past her shoulder and buried itself into the eel's skull, the impact snapping its head sideways mid-charge.
Her strength finally failed, and if the water hadn't swallowed everything, Widow would've seen the tears cut loose from Lynn the instant survival stopped being her problem.
Help had arrived.