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Water thundered around me like a living thing—furious, violent, and endless. The Raft had become a metal coffin half-submerged in chaos, its alarms drowned beneath the roar of seawater and collapsing steel. Every corridor shook as the tide claimed it inch by inch.
And standing before me, through the curtain of bubbles and debris, was Namor.
Once, he must have been regal—an oceanic god among men—but now his skin had turned pale blue, mottled with decay. Coral had fused into his flesh, barnacles crusted over his muscles like armor, and his eyes glowed with an eerie, unnatural green. When he moved, he left trails of rot in the water.
He tilted his head, the movement almost regal, then let out a guttural snarl that echoed through the flooded hall.
"Come, then," I said, tightening my stance. "Let's end this."
He came at me like a torpedo, trident first. I sidestepped, water swirling behind me as the weapon pierced the wall where my head had been a heartbeat ago. I pivoted on my heel and drove my foot into his ribs, the impact cracking through the water like thunder. Namor grunted but didn't fall. Instead, he caught my leg with monstrous reflexes and spun, slamming me into the metal floor.
The deck buckled under the force.
I kicked off, twisting mid-roll, and sent an uppercut straight to his jaw. The blow lifted him for a split second before the current carried us both backward into a shattered corridor filled with floating bodies. His eyes glimmered brighter—no pain, no thought, just fury.
He lunged again, this time faster. I could barely see him—a blur of water and decay. My fist met his mid-charge, and the impact sent a shockwave that tore apart the nearest door. I followed with a spinning kick to his abdomen, sending him crashing into the ceiling before the water carried him down again.
He didn't stay down.
Namor rose, snarling, bubbles escaping his dead lips. He ripped a support beam from the ceiling and hurled it like a spear. I ducked, feeling it graze my hair as it impaled the wall behind me. The next second, he grabbed one of the floating zombie Talokanil and flung it at me like a cannonball.
I kicked it away, the corpse exploding into red mist.
"Really?" I muttered. "Throwing bodies now?"
Another one came—two, then three. He was using them as shields, distractions, and weapons. They came from every direction. I weaved through them, my fists moving faster than sound underwater. Every impact cracked bone and shattered spine. For a moment, it felt like a storm of limbs and teeth.
Then Namor was on me again.
He tackled me through a bulkhead, and we burst into a deeper section of the Raft where blue emergency lights flickered weakly. Water pressure here was intense—crushing for anyone else—but it barely slowed me down. I met his next swing with my forearm, blocked, and countered with a straight punch that sent him flying into a wall of monitors.
Sparks exploded, and for an instant, I saw my reflection flicker across shattered glass—calm, composed, and utterly focused.
He roared, ripping the trident free again. I didn't give him the chance to swing. I dashed forward, using the momentum of the current to my advantage, and slammed a knee into his stomach. The water vibrated from the shock. I followed up with an elbow to the back of his neck, then spun—a clean roundhouse to his jaw.
He spat out black blood, still standing.
"Persistent bastard," I said, cracking my knuckles.
Namor's response was a furious bellow as he thrust his trident downward. I caught the shaft between my palms. The two of us locked in place, strength grinding against strength. The weapon's edges cut into my skin, crimson streaks curling through the water, but I didn't let go.
Then he did something unexpected—he twisted and headbutted me.
It was like being hit by a running train. I staggered back a few steps.
I can't use Mana, because if I did, then I wouldn't get Quest Coins. It's like Thanos fighting all the Avengers without using his Infinity Stones, using fist and muscle strength only, while my opponent can use everything at his disposal. Unfair, but I need to get to Quest Coin.
If I use even a low-tier martial arts ability or even a Bluff spell. I can just pop his head like a watermelon. But sadly, I can't.
Before I could recover, he spun the trident and slammed it into the ground, sending a pulse of dark energy through the flooded corridor.
The wave struck me square in the chest, sending me flying into a bulkhead. I exhaled slowly, feeling the sting of the impact, then looked down at the hole torn through my shirt.
"…Okay," I muttered, brushing dust from my sleeve. "Now I'm mad."
He charged again, trident glowing with necrotic light, and this time I didn't move.
I let him come.
At the last moment, I sidestepped and drove my fist straight into his sternum. The blow cracked through him like thunder under the sea. The trident fell from his hand as he staggered, water trembling from the force. I didn't stop. My movements became a blur—each strike faster than the last, a storm of fists and kicks.
Left jab to the ribs.
Roundhouse to the neck.
Knee to the gut.
Heel strike to the temple.
The rhythm of the fight consumed me. The ocean around us seemed to pulse in time with my heartbeat. Each blow sent waves rippling through the raft, each movement shaking the metal walls around us.
Namor tried to retaliate, swinging wild punches that missed by inches. His strength was fading, the corruption spreading faster across his body. His once-mighty physique was now cracking like old coral.
I leapt, spinning in midair, and brought my heel down on his shoulder—hard. The joint shattered with a sickening crunch. He fell to one knee, bubbles rising from his mouth.
He looked up at me, eyes still glowing, still defiant.
"This is mercy," I said softly.
My next strike was a clean, final punch straight through his chest. I first crush through his heart.
The sound echoed even underwater—a hollow boom followed by silence. The light in his eyes flickered, then dimmed entirely. Namor's body went limp, drifting weightlessly, carried by the current like a fallen king returning to the depths.
I watched him sink, trident tumbling beside him, both disappearing into the darkness below.
The water around me was still now, quiet, except for the soft hum of the raft's dying systems. I took a deep breath out of habit—not necessity—and looked at the faint shimmer of Kamala's Noor barrier far above, where the others had gone.
"Fight's over," I murmured, flexing my bruised hands. "Let's hope it was worth it."
Just then, a message spell connected me.
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