Demian stood at the edge of the platform, gaze sweeping across the endless dark waters surrounding him. The structure beneath his feet was small—barely large enough for him to pace around. The cracks in the stone, the eroded edges… this had once been a watchtower, a fragment of something much larger.
He exhaled slowly.
If this was a trial, then there had to be a way forward. But all he saw was water. Deep, unmoving, endless.
He clenched his jaw. "Tch. Figures."
He took another step, scanning for any sign of land, a bridge—anything. But the only structures in sight were distant ruins, half-submerged in the abyss. No obvious paths. No signs of life. Just silence.
That left him with one option.
Go in.
His muscles tensed at the thought. It wasn't fear—not exactly. His body had changed. The ordeal with Lucas had proven that much. He was faster, stronger, more resistant. And after coming here, he could feel the difference. His lungs expanded with ease, his heartbeat steady even in this unnatural pressure.
Holding his breath for an extended period? Possible.
Diving into unknown waters? Stupid.
But he had no choice.
He sat down, running a hand along his arm, feeling the faint scars left behind from before. How much had he really changed? There was only one way to find out.
"…Fine."
With that, he jumped.
Beneath the Surface
The cold struck first.
A sharp, biting chill, wrapping around him like unseen hands. But he adjusted quickly, his body responding better than he expected. His vision, though blurred at first, adapted fast. The deeper he sank, the clearer things became.
Darkness stretched infinitely below.
But as his eyes adjusted, he saw the truth—the ruins didn't end at the waterline.
Massive stone structures extended downward, vanishing into the abyss, their forms shrouded in shifting shadows. This place was bigger than it seemed. The platform had once been a part of something—a tower? A fortress? He kicked forward, gliding toward one of the submerged walls.
As he moved, he became aware of something else.
The water was unnaturally still. No currents. No resistance. As if the ocean itself had been waiting.
His fingers brushed the surface of the wall. Rough. Ancient. And—
Salt.
His eyes narrowed. Even underwater, he could feel the dry, crusted layers wedged into the crevices. That shouldn't be possible. Salt deposits formed when water evaporated. Meaning—
This place had been dry.
Recently.
His mind raced. If this structure had been exposed long enough for salt to settle, then that meant one of two things:
1. The flooding was recent—which meant the water level had risen unnaturally.
2. This place periodically dried out—meaning the water would recede again.
Both possibilities changed everything.
He reached out further, scanning for more evidence. The more he touched, the clearer it became—this wasn't permanently submerged. It was part of a cycle.
But before he could analyze further—
A shift.
Something in the water moved.
Demian froze.
It was subtle. A disturbance in the stillness. A pressure against his skin, a ripple not caused by him.
His instincts screamed. Something was watching.
The moment stretched, an unbearable weight pressing against him. Then—a flicker.
A shadow within the abyss.
He didn't wait. He moved.
Kicking off the wall, he shot upward, muscles burning as he pushed against the weight of the water. He didn't look back. Whatever it was—it was fast.
The surface was too far.
His pulse pounded in his ears. Move. Move. Move.
A shift—a presence behind him.
Something lashed out.
Pain flared across his arm, sharp and searing. Claws? A tendril? Teeth? He didn't know. But he felt it—cold, precise, unnatural.
The platform was within reach.
With one final burst, he broke through the surface, gasping as he heaved himself onto the stone. He rolled, heart hammering, eyes locked on the dark water below.
Nothing followed.
But the weight of its gaze remained.
He sat up, panting, pressing a hand to the wound on his arm. It wasn't deep, but it wasn't normal. His skin tingled, faintly numb.
"…I'm not going back in there."
His breath steadied. His heartbeat slowed. As the rush of adrenaline faded, something else caught his attention.
The light had changed.
The eternal twilight was lifting.
The first hints of daylight bled across the sky, soft golden hues chasing away the deep blues and purples. The water, once still and endless, now rippled with gentle movement—but it was moving away.
The tide was receding.
Demian's eyes followed the shifting shoreline, watching as submerged ruins slowly reemerged. Pools of water reflected the sky like shattered glass, their surfaces gleaming with ethereal light. The broken towers and archways, once drowned, now stood solemnly in the dawn, remnants of an era long past.
A deep breath. Relief.
I was right. This place doesn't stay submerged forever.
But the question remained—how long until it floods again?
He couldn't afford to stay. Not here. Not with that thing lurking beneath the waves.
He exhaled sharply. "I need to move."
But the water wouldn't be fully gone for at least another thirty to forty-five minutes. Enough time to prepare.
He sat cross-legged on the platform, shaking off the lingering tension. His wounds were minor. His body—though exhausted—was still holding up. And more than anything…
He needed control.
Closing his eyes, he focused, and started using the Exaltio Method
The mana within him was still foreign, still unfamiliar. But now, in the quiet of the ruins, with the sun rising and the water retreating, he had time.
As the tide continued its slow retreat, Demian began his mana rotation, drawing the energy inward, sharpening his senses.