The water was, as expected, rather clear. Though, again, as expected, it grew darker and darker the further I dove. I'm really pushing the limit of my training and gear here, since I've not personally dove any deeper than two hundred meters, and that took me a good eight hours of decompression to get over. As it stands, I'm already pushing my limit. A personal record, too, as I break past two hundred and fifty meters.

  Luckily, my floodlights illuminate the ship ahead, wet rot and whatever caused the ship to sink having torn its belly open for me and all sorts of critters to explore. "I see the ship. Making approach, stand by." I say into the radio within my rebreather. I receive a confirmation of status in reply, and I continue my descent, careful not to disturb the delicate ecosystem that had long since cimed the wreck as its own. Schools of tiny fish flicker like silver ghosts in the beam of my floodlights, darting away into the crevices of the splintered hull. Coral and anemones cling to the ship’s ribs, their slow conquest turning rusted iron and shattered wood into a living reef.

  I ease forward, careful not to disturb the wreck more than necessary. The ship’s structure groans softly in the current, the sound vibrating through my bones. Silt swirls up as I glide inside, my floodlights cutting through the gloom, revealing the remains of cargo—shattered crates, rusted tools, and the occasional fsh of something metallic.

  Then, just beneath a colpsed beam, I spot it—a faint gleam buried under a thin yer of sediment. I hover, reaching out carefully, my gloved fingers brushing away the silt. A rusted lockbox, its hinges corroded and weak, barely holds together as I run a hand over it. My heart kicks up a notch. Gold, silver? Maybe. But not what I’m looking for.

  I exhale slowly, reminding myself that searching a wreck takes patience. If the crown is here, it’s deeper in, hidden beneath centuries of decay and the ocean’s relentless grasp.

  Still, the lockbox gets tied up to one of the ten tethers that go back to the ship, allowing for retrieval while I search. A quick chat with the crew and off it goes.

  With that taken care of, I push deeper into the wreck, careful not to disturb the fragile remains more than necessary. The passage ahead narrows, forcing me to manoeuvre carefully between colpsed beams and debris. My floodlights reveal remnants of a once-grand interior—fragments of gilded furniture, tarnished silverware, and decayed textiles barely distinguishable under yers of silt and marine growth.

  A disturbance in the silt ahead makes me pause. Something had moved—perhaps just a shift in the wreck, or maybe a creature startled by my presence. I scan the area, my pulse steady but my senses on high alert. Nothing. Just the eerie silence of the deep, punctuated only by the creaks of the ship settling further into its watery grave.

  I press on, my light tracing the outlines of what appears to be an officer’s quarters. The skeletal remains of a bed, a writing desk, and a rusted-out chest suggest someone of importance once occupied this space. As I sweep my light across the room, a shadow shifts in my periphery. My stomach lurches when I realize what it is—a human skeleton, half-buried in the silt, its empty sockets staring back at me. My pulse jumps, a sharp reminder of how easily I could end up just like this poor soul. Swallowing hard, I steady my breathing and refocus on the task at hand.

  Carefully, I pry open the chest, half-expecting it to disintegrate under my touch. Inside, a collection of brittle, waterlogged papers crumbles away, revealing a small, ornate box nestled at the bottom. With great care, I secure it to my retrieval line, ensuring it won't be lost in the ascent. Then, mindful of the slow, methodical process of depressurization, I begin my careful journey back to the surface.

  "Out of lines. Coming back up to check our haul. Stand by." I say, as I eventually break the water and come on board. The crew have already checked the other boxes and crates I sent up, so it's on me to check the water logged but still ornate box I'd brought with me. Opening the box slowly and carefully, to not damage the contents, I see it.

  It's a small, dainty thing, less a solid band of metal and more a delicate web of interwoven chains, each link impossibly fine, as though spun from threads of gold. The centrepiece is a cross-shaped sapphire, deep and rich as the ocean itself, meant to rest against the forehead. The metalwork catches the light, glimmering even through the years of decay, its fragile elegance defying the brutal depths that sought to cim it forever.

  My grin is evident. Our fortunes, and fames, made. "We got it!" I say, slowly holding it in my hand. "Quick, someone get a picture." I say, slowly manoeuvring it around so I can wear it. Because of course I'm going to wear the damn thing. I found it. Why wouldn't I wear it.

  As I rest the Sapphire against my forehead, I fsh a big grin to my team. Only for my vision to go white and a sense of dizziness to hit me.

  New User Connected.

  Initializing System...

  Error! Current environment unsuitable for System.

  Finding new, most suitable environment.

  User, Please wait...

  '...What?' Is all I could think about before I feel myself start to fall. Someone shouts for me, but I hit the water. Suddenly, I can feel myself tumbling head over heels, and my lungs burn as I try to fight against what I instinctively know is an undercurrent.

  New environment found.

  Welcome, User, to the Feral Survival System.

  'I'm going to drown.'