For the first time, Marisol had a bit of trouble seeing underwater. Four thousand metres below the surface, sunlight was just a little scarce, a little dim. She had to blink a few times as her gravity harness dragged her down to the walls just to get used to the weaker lighting.

  By the time she touched down at the edge of Depth Four, she acclimated to the relative darkness, but now it felt like an invisible hand was squeezing her chest, and her ears popped with the weight of the water around her. Her body tensed instinctively, a sharp twinge of pain blooming along her ribs.

  Maria, walking ahead effortlessly with the flag in hand, noticed her wheezing and looped back to her in one smooth motion.“Oi. Don’t go clenchin’ up like a scared crab now,” Maria said, slapping her back hard enough to sting, but not enough to hurt. “Ain’t ye a speed-demon? A dancer? Ye oughta have been prepped for this.”

  Reina was much less violent. She patted Marisol’s back softly and whispered, “You will get used to it in a minute or two. Just relax. You are more than tough enough to withstand this pressure.”

  Marisol gritted her teeth, but the comment hit home. She supposed to be able to endure this pressure. She forced herself to relax her shoulders, pinched her nose, and flushed out clouds of bubbles from her lips. The pain dulled, if only slightly, but she did find it easier to move after a half a minute or so.

  Reina and Maria both gave her a quick, satisfied nod before walking ahead again. Marisol turned around briefly to see the dozen or so diving bells jerking to a halt behind them, a bunch of Imperators and Guards pouring out with giant anchors and harpoons. True to Maria’s word, they were going to be completely alone in Depth Four. There’d be a small army waiting for them right at the edge, ready to pull them out and provide retreating fire if needed.

  Steadying her pounding heart, Marisol turned back around and chased after the two Lighthouse Imperators.

  the Archive said half-heartedly.

  The scenery before her was oppressive in its otherworldliness. Thick mist swirled through the water, clinging to the colossal, jagged canyon walls like a veil that obscured and revealed in equal measure. The rocks were streaked with silvery hues, porous and uneven, their textures hinting at something once organic, but were now petrified beyond recognition. Faint trails of bioluminescent algae threaded across the surfaces, glowing like ghostly veins in the dark. The faint sunlight shining down on Depth Four wasn't enough to banish the shadows; the canyons simply stretched upward like the bones and ribs of some ancient beast.

  Marisol adjusted her skating to keep pace with the others, her gaze darting to every crevice and jagged outcrop as they waded right into the nearest valley.

  The water here felt… heavier. Colder. It pressed against her skin, and the muted thrum of her own heartbeat echoed faintly in her ears. She reached out at the closest walls, her fingertips brushing the surface. The porous rocks felt smooth but unnervingly unnatural, like hardened wax.

  “Ye ain’t a tourist here,” Maria said, her voice echoing faintly. She motioned toward the narrow valleys ahead. “We’ll stick to the canyons, follow the trail, and get to the crater at the halfway point of Depth Four. Easy, right?”

  Marisol wasn’t sure what about this place felt . As they moved deeper into the canyons, the faint sound of their skates and footsteps against the rocky surface seemed to amplify, bouncing off the walls. Every step and every shuffle was thrown back at them in distorted whispers. It was unnerving, like the walls themselves were alive and gossiping about their presence—like the three of them weren’t supposed to be wading through these canyons.

  , she thought, glancing at Reina and Maria, who seemed used to the echoing walls.

  Marisol frowned as she listened, her gaze sweeping the silvery rocks around her.

  Marisol blinked, trying to wrap her head around the idea.

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  She glanced at the whispering rocks again, feeling a mix of awe and unease.

  the Archive finished.Then the Archive gestured around her at the silvery rocks.

  The Archive shrugged.

  Now that the Archive pointed it out, though it eerily strange how smooth and circular the walls of the whirlpool were. She had no idea why she never thought, even for a single second, that the entire whirlpool was literally just the hollowed carcass of a clone of the Worm God, but just thinking about gods and fairy tale events that happened decades ago was making her head spin and throb.

  Maybe it was better to just take everything the Archive said at face value and leave it at that.

  Nobody was on the same level as the Worm God and the Greater Crab God, anyways. No point thinking about legendary stories and events so far beyond her when she was just here to kill a damned barnacle.

  the Archive said plainly.

  she grumbled, and the three of them continued trudging silently through the canyons and valleys. Marisol’s gaze flicked to Maria in front of her, who was leading the way with the flagpole, and then she glanced behind her to see Reina moving with similar caution. None of them spoke—they were probably mentally preparing themselves for the inevitable clash against Rhizocapala or some other bug—but if they knew she was chatting up a storm with the Archive in her head, would they reprimand her and tell her to focus?

  she thought, looking at Maria’s back as they made another turn, trudging quietly down another valley.

  The Archive paused for a moment to look at her pointedly.

  … It wasn’t that.

  She afraid—it was impossible to shake the fear she’d felt from the sheer aura discrepancy between her and Rhizocapala from a month ago—but more than her own death, she was simply afraid she’d let Reina and Maria down and be an utter drag during the battle.

  She really, didn’t want to be left in the dust by Maria.

  The Archive snorted.

  “The underwater currents are fucked up here,” Maria mumbled, interrupting the Archive before it could even finish its warning. She held up a fist to stop Marisol and Reina in their tracks as well, and Marisol squinted down the tall, narrow valley right in front of them. They must’ve walked over three to four hundred metres deep into the canyons already, and the crater they were supposed to reach at the halfway point of Depth Four was right at the end of the valley. Marisol could see a large opening just a hundred metres in front of her.

  But Maria was right.

  She closed her eyes slowly, listened deeply, and ‘felt’ the currents while she drew on the memories of the messy arrows and diagrams in Victor’s notebook. Here, four hundred metres deep into Depth Four, the currents were supposed to be faintly ‘push and pull’ against her skin. Victor’s notebook had described the currents here as ‘steady in stark contrast to the sharp contours of the canyons’, but as she focused, she felt the currents were overlaid with something… foreign. Something intrusive.

  There was a slight ripple—a slight turbulence—to the underwater currents in this final hundred-metre-long valley to the crater in the middle of Depth Four, and all three of them felt it.

  “... Lesson number one in the whirlpool,” Maria began, the corners of her mouth twitching into a faint smirk as her eyes drew a line across the valley walls. “Spot the enemy before the enemy spots ye. Forget about the mission for a sec. This is trainin’. What do ye see, newbie?”

  Marisol narrowed her eyes as she scanned the uneven walls on either side of the valley, focusing on the jagged outcrops and shadowed recesses. The dim light made it hard to tell if the strange lumps and shapes clinging to the surfaces were part of the canyon or something else entirely, so she shook her head after a long moment. “I… don’t see anything.”

  Reina, however, crouched down, scooped up a jagged stone about the size of her palm, and she hurled it toward the canyon walls without a word.

  The stone struck with a dull before bouncing off and tumbling down, but the sound it made reverberated unnaturally, triggering an almost immediate response.

  The walls of the canyon came alive.

  From the silvery, porous surfaces, massive shapes began to stir, shifting as if shedding their stony disguises. Dozens of Giant-Class crabs emerged, their mottled shells blending seamlessly with the canyon walls. Each of them was the size of a small building—much bigger than the fairy shrimp she’d fought before—and they had thick, spindly legs and oversized claws that clicked together menacingly, creating an ear-grating rhythm that echoed through the narrow valley.

  Marisol took an involuntary step back, her blood racing as the crabs moved with eerie coordination, their stalked eyes swiveling toward the three of them. The tension in the water grew heavier, suffocating, as the crabs formed an intimidating blockade, but the Lighthouse Imperators didn’t flinch. Didn’t back off.

  Reina unfurled her scorpion tail, and Maria dragged one leg back, getting into a running-start stance.

  “Our welcoming committee,” Maria cooed. “Ain’t they just adorable?”

  Then the Lighthouse Imperator glanced back at Marisol, sending her a playful wink.

  “Race you to the end of the valley.”

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