They arrived just as the sun disappeared into the sea, leaving only a wash of silver light reflecting off the water.
The skiff slowed, engines cutting back as the shadow of **D-Ring Nine** loomed into view. From a distance, it looked like the aftermath of a naval disaster—**dozens of ships welded together** in a crude circle, old aircraft carriers, tankers, and warships now forming a fortress afloat in the middle of nowhere.
Bridges connected the pieces. Towers rose where decks had been. Radar dishes, spotlights, and drone pylons jutted out at every angle. Lights blinked in strange rhythms, and pressure monitors pulsed along the outer hull like a heartbeat.
Brick leaned over the railing, eyes wide. “That’s it? This is the place?”
Thomas adjusted the strap on his duffel bag. “Yeah. That’s a D-Ring. They’re all built the same—scrap, steel, and stubbornness. Floating over major dungeon zones. The Association built 'em to train Delvers without risking the cities.”
Brick blinked. “So it’s like… an ocean fort made out of garbage?”
Thomas gave him a sideways look. “A very expensive, highly classified garbage fort. Yes.”
The skiff clamped into place against the ring’s docking bay. As the gangway extended, Sergeant Keller’s voice roared again, somehow louder than the engines.
“Let’s go! Off the skiff! You’ve got fifteen seconds to move before I throw someone overboard for ballast!”
They disembarked fast, stepping into the docking bay. It was loud and metallic, steam rising from vents in the floor, drones buzzing overhead. Pipes hissed and water ran somewhere just beneath the catwalks. The smell of rust, salt, and machine oil clung to the air.
They reached a **checkpoint**, where four armed Association guards waited behind scanners. Each new Delver stepped up, presented their wrist, and let the guards scan their new ID bands.
When Thomas stepped forward, the moment his band connected to the station reader, it **lit up bright violet**, and a sharp digital ping echoed through the dock.
> **[DELVER SYSTEM ONLINE]**
> **CORE SIGNATURE: VERIFIED.**
> **DOMAIN REGISTRATION: DUAL – LUMEN / ABYSS**
> **SYSTEM INTERFACE ENGAGED.**
A projection flickered to life around him—holographic symbols and readouts blooming from the band like glowing ink in the air. He saw health metrics, pressure resistance readings, sync percentage, and then an icon spinning in the top right corner:
> **[Welcome, Thomas Kane.]**
He flinched, slightly.
No one had told him the System would talk.
Brick stepped up next, held out his hand, and the scanner chirped.
> **[DELVER SYSTEM ONLINE]**
> **CORE SIGNATURE: VERIFIED.**
> **DOMAIN REGISTRATION: FATHOM**
> **SYSTEM INTERFACE ENGAGED.**
Brick stared wide-eyed as the projection flared to life around his arm. “Whoa. Is this a video game? Do I get a sword?”
A guard grunted. “Move.”
Once everyone had passed through the checkpoint, they were handed black duffel bags with stamped Association logos and told to change in the barracks.
The **uniforms** inside were sleek—dark gray with reinforced padding, water-resistant layering, and a slot on the left forearm for the ID band to sit exposed, fully synced. The boots were light but dense, and the collars could seal in case of sudden submersion.
Thomas changed quickly, adjusted the fit, and rejoined the others outside.
From here, the D-Ring’s layout was clearer. Long corridors connected ship decks that had been gutted and repurposed. Some had been turned into training arenas. Others into barracks. Above them, metal catwalks zigzagged between towers stacked with antenna arrays and floodlights. Beneath them, the ocean groaned, constant and deep.
The rookies were herded into what used to be a warship command deck, now converted into a classroom. Screens lined the walls. A massive central projector dominated the room, glowing with a faint pulse like it was alive.
Sergeant Keller entered, arms crossed.
“This is Orientation Sector Seven. That means sit down, shut up, and learn something before your Domains tear your heads off.”
He clicked a button on the console beside him, and a full oceanic projection bloomed to life in the center of the room.
“The world didn’t just drown,” Keller began. “It changed. The sea opened, and something started leaking through. We don’t know if it’s a new force, an ancient one, or something we woke up by accident. But we call it **The Fifth Pressure**—because it doesn’t match any pressure zone we’d ever known.”
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The ocean layers lit up—each one displayed as a band around the planet.
“Surface. Mid. Trench. Abyss. Those four are measurable. Predictable. The Fifth isn’t. It’s not a depth. It’s a presence. And it’s where your powers come from.”
He tapped again.
The projection shifted, now displaying **six glowing icons**, each representing a **Delver Domain**.
“Your Core syncs to what we call a Domain—an elemental or metaphysical facet of the Pressure. That Domain determines your affinity. Your capabilities. And, eventually, your sanity.”
He pointed to each symbol in turn:
- **Brine** – “Corrosion, time, erosion. Users manipulate decay. Rot steel, rust bones. Good at sabotage and disruption.”
- **Current** – “Flow and kinetic energy. Movement manipulation, speed bursts, water slicing. They don’t stand still.”
- **Reef** – “Growth, defense, bio-construction. Healers, tank units, and regeneration specialists. Hard to kill.”
- **Fathom** – “Weight, density, pressure control. Raw strength. Their fists break walls. Gravity bends for them.”
- **Lumen** – “Light, perception, bioluminescence. Illusionists, decoys, blinding flashes. Good luck tracking one in combat.”
- **Abyss** – “Void, madness, tentacles, corruption. Rare. Unstable. Their powers bend reality—and sometimes break it.”
Thomas felt his chest tighten slightly at that one. His Domains: **Lumen and Abyss**. Light and madness. The eye and the dark.
Keller continued, eyes sweeping the room. “The System synced to your Core is built to help you regulate your Domain. It gives readouts, health warnings, training stats, and eventually, contract interfaces. Ignore it and you’ll die. Abuse it and you’ll wish you had.”
He turned the projection off.
“Over the next three days, you will be trained in basic pressure control, Domain tuning, underwater combat, and dungeon sim navigation. We will find your limit, and we will push past it.”
He stepped forward, hands behind his back.
“You are Delvers now. You’ve heard the call of the deep. The question is—**can you answer it without drowning?**”
Silence.
Then Brick whispered, “I think I peed a little.”
Thomas didn’t look at him. His gaze stayed forward, jaw tight
---
The bunks were crammed into what had once been the lower deck of a cruiser. Rows of metal-frame beds, bolted into the floor, barely gave enough room to walk between. Fluorescent lights flickered above, humming with the sound of old wires that had been through hell and saltwater.
Thomas tossed his duffel onto the top bunk near the end of the row and climbed up with practiced ease. The mattress was thin, the blanket thinner, but it was dry and warm—which was already better than half the places he’d slept in his life.
Below him, Brick was struggling to curl into the bottom bunk. The massive man had his legs pulled up, his arms folded awkwardly, one boot hanging off the side. It looked like someone had tried to stuff a lion into a kennel.
“You good down there?” Thomas asked, raising an eyebrow.
Brick grinned up at him, one eye half-squished against the pillow. “Comfiest I’ve ever been, buddy.”
Thomas smirked faintly and leaned back. The metal above him creaked, reacting to every movement of the sea outside the hull. He lifted his left arm and tapped twice on the Delver ID band.
The interface bloomed to life above it—holographic text, lines, and symbols forming in the air.
> **[DELVER INTERFACE – ACTIVE]**
> **NAME:** Thomas Kane
> **RANK:** Low-Tidewalker
> **CORE STATUS:** Stable
> **DOMAINS:** Lumen / Abyss
Two glowing emblems hovered beside his name. One shimmered gold and white—the Lumen Domain. The other pulsed purple and black, shaped like a spiraling eye—the Abyss.
The screen shifted again as he swiped a finger across it.
> **ACTIVE ABILITIES:**
> – **[Neural Bloom]** – Accelerates cognitive processing for short bursts. Time perception slows. Reaction time drastically increases.
> – **[Mirrorwake]** – Projects up to three visual and heat-signature illusions within a limited radius. Movement linked to mental focus.
Thomas stared at the icons for a long second, the soft glow from the interface casting faint light across his face. Two skills. Both from Lumen, most likely. Nothing from Abyss yet.
Or maybe… not yet.
He exhaled and flicked the band twice. The interface blinked out.
Below him, Brick was already snoring like someone trying to chew gravel in his sleep. Thomas rolled onto his side, pulling the blanket up and letting his eyes close.
---
He was underwater again.
Floating. Aware. But frozen.
The blackness around him pulsed like a heartbeat, every thud resonating in his chest. His limbs were weightless. His breath didn’t matter. He wasn’t drowning—he simply no longer existed in a place where air was relevant.
And then it opened again.
The eye.
Massive. Impossible. Alien and eternal. It blinked into being as if it had never left, staring through him rather than at him. His mind tried to flinch—but couldn't. His **Abyssal Core responded instantly, thrashing in his chest like it was being grabbed.
Pain slammed through him like pressure spikes—his skull rang, his vision flickered, and then came the **voice**.
Not sound. Not thought. It was **impact.
> "_Zun kal’arith... M’ekh do talasun..._"
The words dragged claws through his mind, scraping sense away as they passed. His body convulsed. His blood felt like it was boiling. His heart skipped once. Twice.
> "_Vozath’in talek… Kharun val’essa..._"
Ancient. Crushing. Real.
He didn’t know what it meant. But the _meaning_ was undeniable. The second line shook something deeper than understanding—something **primal**.
And then came the third.
> "_T’saal vek’noor..._"
It **hit* him like a freight train made of silence.
His vision went white. He could feel something inside him **fracture**. Not his body. Something _beneath_ it.
---
He gasped as he woke—violently. Eyes wide, glowing. Every muscle tight, breath ragged in his chest.
But it wasn’t just him. The world had exploded around him.
“ON YOUR FEET, NOW!”
Boots hit metal.
“MOVE, MOVE—UP! WAKE THE HELL UP!”
Keller’s voice boomed through the barracks, joined by others—louder, harsher. More Delvers. Real ones. The kind who’d seen trench runs and survived them.
The overhead lights flared white, bathing everything in artificial morning. Divers stomped through the aisles, banging on bunk frames with their boots, some dragging metal pipes against the rails.
Thomas swung his legs over the side of the bunk, lungs still heaving, heart still tripping over itself.
Below him, Brick flailed upward and nearly smacked his head on the bunk above.
“WHAT?! WHO’S DEAD?!”
“No one yet,” a Delver snapped, kicking the side of Brick’s bed. “You’ve got thirty seconds before we start treating you like ballast.”
Keller stood at the far end of the room, arms crossed, mouth a grim line.
“Orientation is over,” he barked. “Now we see what pressure really means.”
Thomas blinked the glow out of his eyes, still feeling the echo of that voice rattling around inside his skull.
