The sun blazed high over the lower city. Here, life pulsed with an intensity unmatched by the quieter, statelier parts in the upper city: dockworkers hauled crates with the rhythm of waves, vendors shouted their wares like carnival barkers, and the laughter of children threaded through the air as they darted between haggling shoppers.

  Marisol and Maria stood, side by side, outside a small diner tucked between two larger, weathered buildings.

  The Lighthouse Imperator tilted her head slightly as she regarded the sign above the door: . The hand-painted teal and gold letters were even more faded than the last time Marisol had visited, and to most, the place might seem inconspicuous, but it was a gem of a diner in her eyes.

  This was where she wanted to bring Maria for lunch.

  “... According to my Archive, this supposed to be the best lunch spot in the city,” Marisol said, glancing at Maria with a touch of nervous energy. “I’ve been here a lot of times myself, and… uh, I recommend it as well.

  Maria’s eyes lingered on the chipped shutters painted in cheery reds and yellows, the bursts of sound and laughter spilling from inside. Her bandaged lips seemed to curve into a small smile, and Marisol couldn’t help but frown again.

  “Are you sure you should be out of bed?” Marisol asked, the worry thick in her voice. “Your jaw is… like that, anyways. How do you eat anything?”

  Maria fingers slipped deftly into her pocket to retrieve her notebook, and her quill danced across the page with elegant, fluid strokes.

  Marisol clenched her jaw, unconvinced. “Still. You shouldn’t push yourself—”

  With that, Maria closed the notebook and gestured toward the door with an exaggerated flourish, her eyes sparkling with mock impatience. Marisol was hesitant for a moment before she sighed, shaking her head as she relented.

  They pushed the door open and stepped into the warmth of the diner. The aroma hit them first—a rich, comforting blend of spiced stews, freshly grilled fish, and bread straight from the oven. It was the kind of scent that felt like an embrace, and even Maria’s slightly suspicious demeanor softened as they took it all in. The interior was as inviting as ever: ochre-painted walls adorned with faded tapestries and ocean-themed paintings, lanterns hanging from low, exposed beams, and the hum of conversation punctuated by the quiet strumming of a guitar in the corner.

  It also didn’t take long for someone to recognise her.

  “Marisol!”

  The shout came from behind the kitchen counter where Helena stood, her apron dusted with flour and her grin as bright as sunlight streaming through the window. She waved with her pistol shrimp claw enthusiastically, and Aidan and Bruno both glanced up from their stoves to smile at the new arrivals.

  “I see you’ve brought a friend this time!” Bruno said, his voice booming with good-natured humor.

  Marisol rubbed the back of her neck, a sheepish smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. Uh. This is… Maria. The Second Lighthouse Imperator.”

  There was silence for a moment, though it wasn’t true silence. Customers and clients—mostly children—were still chatting all around, but Marisol like she heard the blood draining from the three siblings’ faces as they finally took a good, long look at Maria—and then the older brothers immediately saluted while the youngest sister vaulted over the counter, guiding the two of them towards an empty table.

  “Right this way, Miss Sangroja!”

  Marisol furrowed her brows. They were all Imperators here, but Helena was acting like Maria was more than that… and maybe she . ‘Sangroja, Sangroja’ was a household name Marisol had heard many, many times across the city, and the Imperators and Guards she’d chatted with over the past few months while diving in the whirlpool all mentioned how ninety percent of their artillery and munitions came from the Sangroja Factories northwest of the city.

  Maybe Maria some sort of celebrity even outside of the Imperators, and for her part, she simply hadn’t cared enough to ask the Archive for clarification.

  She made it a point not to ask her Archive about people’s histories, anyways, so once they were seated and Helena hurried away after dropping off their menus, Marisol paid close attention to Maria’s eyes. attention. She watched as the Lighthouse Imperator traced her gloved fingers over the worn pages, and she couldn’t help but notice the way Maria’s eyes lit up slightly as they lingered on the sweets section.

  As Maria scribbled down her order on her notebook, Marisol leaned back in her chair and waved Helena over to take their order. Marisol asked for her usual—she liked her fish with tomatoes for a proper lunch meal—but Maria just tore the page off her notebook and handed it to Helena. Marisol had half a mind to tell Maria to eat something actually nutritious instead of sweets for the main course, but… who was she to judge?

  The image of Reina’s tear-streaked face was still flashing in her mind, unbidden. She’d never thought of Reina as vulnerable—prone to anger in the face of an Insect God, sure, but the sight of her slumped against Maria’s bed with her eyes puffy from crying was impossible to ignore. Impossible to forget.

  She was curious.

  And as Helena hurried away again to deliver their order to the kitchen, Marisol broke the quiet between them with a nervous gulp.

  “You and Reina… must be really close, huh?”

  But Maria said nothing. Looked nowhere. The moment the Lighthouse Imperator handed off her page to Helena, her head started tilting slightly to one side, quickly dozing off. It took only five more seconds for her to slacken as she sprawled her arms across the table, slamming her face straight down—and then Marisol heard the quiet rumbles of a snoring lady, completely tapped out of the conversation at hand.

  It was like the Lighthouse Imperator was here to treat her to a meal, and treat her to a meal.

  Sighing softly, she reached over to nudge Maria’s gloves slightly back. Familia served its food quickly, so Helena would need space to put all her sweets down—but the moment her fingers brushed the scaly fabric that was Maria’s gloves, her world started to shift.

  Her vision swam.

  A wave of prickly sensations slammed into her, pulling her under as if she’d plunged into icy water. The warmth of the diner vanished, replaced by a cold, weightless void. She gasped, but no sound escaped her lips.

  Then, she began to dream.

  She dreamed of a brighter, more lavish world.

  It was Year Seventy.

  Just a few weeks after the Whirlpool City was successfully established as the new bastion of the Deepwater Legion Front.

  She was short. She was in a princess’ bedroom. She recognised this sensation of feeling cold and distant in her own body, because she wasn’t Marisol—she was ‘Maria’, the twelve-year-old daughter of the Sangroja Household, the richest family in the Whirlpool City, their wealth built on the weapons factories that armed the Harbor Guards and Imperators across the Deepwater Legion Front.

  She strolled through her bedroom, an expansive space cluttered with the remnants of her many hobbies. Sewing kits spilled over the edge of a lacquered desk. Toymaking supplies were strewn across a velvet chair, tiny clockwork gears glinting under the soft glow of a chandelier. Instruments—violins, flutes, even a harp—leaned in neglected disarray against the wall. Her latest interest, glass etching, lay half-finished on a workbench tucked in the corner of the room. A beautiful design of a lighthouse shone on the surface, but she’d already grown bored of it. Everything she touched came too easily. She’d master each skill only to abandon it quickly in search of something more challenging.

  Something more exciting.

  Her footsteps echoed across the marble floor as she paced. In her arms, she cradled a little baby—a child. There was a name in her head. Little ‘Reina’, her mama’s best friend’s one-year-old daughter. Reina’s chubby fingers tugged at her dark hair, babbling happily, oblivious to her restless energy.

  She smiled brightly at Reina and nuzzled her cheek into her swaddle, but her mind was wandering. She wasn’t fully there. She was still thinking about her next hobby, her next skill to master. Maybe she could try being a full-time caretaker. She’d probably be the best the city had to offer.

  She strolled out of her room, meandered across the halls of her newly built mansion, and a low murmur of voices reached her ears. The living room door was ajar. She peeked through and saw a small gathering of Imperators and Guards—all good friends of her papa—standing around high round tables, shaking hands and sharing smiles. That was right. Her papa had invited most of his friends over to celebrate both the unveiling of the Sangroja Household’s new mansion and the establishment of the Whirlpool City. A party. Reina’s mama was in the room as well, chatting with some of the old guards, which was why Reina had been given to her to take care of.

  Not that she had any complaints. She liked holding little Reina.

  But her papa wasn’t in the room. He was somewhere else, and she was curious. She continued strolling outside, listening in on the conversations in each and every room before she came across her papa’s study. The door was ajar yet again. She peeked in, breaths held, and finally saw two men lounging in high-backed chairs, cigars and brandy in hand. One of them was her papa, and she’d never heard him laughing so loud before, but the other man… he had sharp eyes. A feathered cap. And a self-assured smirk as he told an unfunny joke.

  She watched in silence as he zipped across the room, retrieving drinks and snacks faster than her eyes could follow. His movements were a blur, impossibly smooth and quick. She couldn’t even tell if he was walking or gliding or flying or teleporting around like that ‘Worm God’, but her heart was racing.

  He was .

  Unable to contain herself, she barged into the room.

  “I want to race you!” she declared, holding Reina tighter as she glared at the man in the feathered cap.

  The laughter stopped. The conversation halted. Her papa groaned, rubbing his temple. “Not now, Maria. This man is a guest. Go back to—”

  “So she’s the one claiming to be the fastest in the city, huh?” the man interrupted, his smirk widening. He set his glass down on a table and turned to face her fully. “That’s a bold claim, little lass. You sure you wanna race me?”

  Maria straightened her spine. “I’ve raced adults. Grown men. Nobody could beat me.”

  The man chuckled, his confidence infuriating. “Alright, then. Let’s see if you’re faster than me.”

  Her father sighed deeply. “Don’t waste your time. I apologise for my daughter. She’s just a child, and she doesn’t know any—”

  The man zipped across the room, appearing in front of Maria in an instant. His grin widened as he crouched slightly, meeting her gaze head-on. “How about it, little lass? Three laps around the mansion. Winner gets a box of caramel sweets.”

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Maria’s lips twitched. She didn’t exactly like sweets—she hated them, in fact, because they’d always make her teeth hurt—but Reina would probably like them

  So she walked past the man, handed Reina off to her papa, and patted the baby’s head as she grinned. “Watch me, Rei-Rei. This is for you.”

  … An hour later, Maria sat outside in the courtyard, her chest heaving as tears streamed down her face.

  She was bawling because she’d lost, and her papa, still swaddling Reina in his arms, sighed as he stood by the front door. The man in the feathered cap walked up to her papa, not even winded, and sent her a smirk as infuriating as ever.

  “Not bad, little lass,” he said. “You’re faster than most your age, but you’re not fast.”

  Her father shook his head as Reina clapped gleefully, oblivious to Maria’s misery. “Did you really have to crush her like that?” he whispered, scowling at the man. “I’ll pay you fifteen hundred to go out there and lose. Just… damnit, man. Don’t do me like that. She’s my daughter.”

  The man shrugged, his grin turning sarcastic. “But crushing kids makes me feel better about myself. See, I’m still pissed Zora burned down my fucking ship, and Enki didn’t show up to the party either. Neither did Kita, Annie, Albrecht, Benedict, Huilong, Kalani, Uma, Safi—”

  “—have you considered it is because you are unpleasant to be around—”

  “Nonsense.” The man scoffed, crossing his arms. “They could all take a wormhole and just plop right through. Some heroes of humanity we are. Only Andres showed up, and he’s only here because he lives here and can’t ignore the just-once-a-year-and-then-I’m-done social call.”

  “Two heroes. Good enough.”

  “They all owe me for being the first to charge at Corpsetaker. If I didn’t do that, Enki couldn’t have morphed into his colossal worm form thing in time, and this city wouldn’t even exist. Shit, Andres should make the Imperatrix and—”

  Maria sniffled and blew her nose into her dress sleeve, swiping angrily at her eyes and drawing both men’s attention.

  “Again!” she demanded.

  Her papa sighed and tried to clasp a hand on the man’s shoulder, but he couldn’t be stopped. He zipped in front of her, knelt, and grinned maliciously again. “You won’t win, little lass. Not in a million years. You sure you want to keep bawling your eyes out?”

  “I’m not losing!” she snapped, jabbing her finger at the man’s eyes. “I won’t lose!”

  … That night, Maria lay in bed, kicking her legs and crying into her pillow out of frustration. The man’s speed was replaying in her mind over and over, taunting her.

  How could he be that much faster than her?

  She pulled her head out of her pillow and sniffled, glaring out at the window.

  The thought consumed her, driving her to slip out of bed and sneak toward the mansion gates. Her plan was simple: leave the house, find a way to get one of those ‘class systems’, and return stronger. Faster.

  But as she crept past the gates, a firm hand grabbed her shoulder. Matheo—the Sixth Lighthouse Imperator, always shrouded in shadows—loomed over her with a disapproving frown.

  “Back to bed, young lady,” he mumbled.

  Then she was marched home, where her papa waited in the study, his expression a storm of anger and concern.

  For the next two years, Maria trained in secret. She could never shake the memory of the man’s smug grin or the helpless frustration that had gripped her that day. Her papa dismissed her dreams, saying all she had to do was inherit his factories, and her household guards monitored her every move, but she was determined.

  She began by seeking out the Hasharana in the city—the bug-slayers who were beginning to gain notoriety across the continent—and while they weren’t officially sanctioned to teach or interact with people like her, she didn’t care. She approached them boldly, her pockets jingling with stolen coins.

  The first Hasharana she encountered was an older woman with the codename ‘Lisbeth’. She had hawk-like eyes and a wiry frame that belied her strength. Maria begged her to teach her the art of reading the city’s unpredictable currents—the winds and waters and flows that made the great blue treacherous for anyone not attuned to their rhythm.

  “You’ll never keep up,” Lisbeth warned, crossing her arms. “The currents are too wild for a child like you.”

  Maria held her chin high, determination blazing in her eyes. “Teach me anyway.”

  Lisbeth eventually relented, and under her guidance, Maria learned to feel the subtle shifts in the air, the faint vibrations underfoot that signaled danger or opportunity. She practiced for hours in the alleys and roofs of the Whirlpool City, her legs burning and her lungs heaving as she pushed herself to keep up with the Hasharana’s nimblest runners.

  It wasn’t enough.

  She needed more. Faster, harder training that could truly transform her. At fourteen, against her papa’s vehement protests, she forged a fake identity and enlisted in the Harbor Guards as a trainee.

  The Guards were brutal. Training wasn’t designed to nurture—it was a relentless grind meant to weed out the weak. From dawn to dusk, she ran drills, practiced combat, and faced grueling obstacle courses. Her classmates mocked her initially—what did a spoiled rich girl from the upper city know about survival?

  But she silenced them all with her ferocity.

  When others stumbled over the uneven boards of the training tracks, she pushed ahead, her feet finding the narrow beams with precision. When they hesitated at the sight of the Guard’s mimic dolls—hulking, chitinous constructs designed for sparring—she charged in, her fists aching from each strike.

  She chose the Whirligig Beetle Class during her First Class Mutation Selection after hearing its reputation whispered among the trainees. It was the fastest class available to recruits, but it came with a dangerous edge. Its Art was the magic to create ‘swirls’ around her limbs, and there were very few things she couldn’t pick up and swirl around her. Water, air, nails, knives, debris—it granted incredible power at the cost of being incredibly difficult to control. to control. Misusing the ability once could shatter her own bones or rip her flesh open with whatever she was swirling around her.

  “You’ll cripple yourself,” the instructor warned. “Most recruits don’t survive the trials of that class.”

  She didn’t flinch.

  Her first attempts with her Art were disastrous. She sent herself careening into walls and leaving bruises up and down her arms more times than she could count, but she didn’t stop. Day after day, she refined her technique. She learned to feel the pull of the swirl, to guide its flow with her movements rather than resist it. By the end of her first year, she was no longer just a promising recruit—she was the fastest in her cohort.

  Claudia, a Lighthouse Imperator, noticed her during a training exercise when she was sixteen. Her speed and precision during a mock Swarm assault left the lady in awe.

  “She’s wasted here,” Claudia said, observing her as she darted through the field, dispatching the mimic dolls with calculated strikes.

  Before she could even graduate, Claudia pulled her into the Imperators. The training there was even harsher. The Imperators weren’t just soldiers—they were heroes of humanity. Each member was to hone their craft to perfection, pushing the limits of their abilities to what was humanly possible. Under another Lighthouse Imperator’s tutelage, Hugo, she was thrown into missions alongside seasoned veterans, her speed now her greatest weapon. Water and debris spiraled around her limbs like drills as she danced through battles, striking faster than her enemies could react. She learned to channel her fear into focus, her movements becoming a blur of calculated precision.

  By twenty-four, she was a force to be reckoned with. She believed she was getting closer to that man’s speed—perhaps even surpassing it—but then the breach came.

  It began as a distant rumble, a sound like thunder rolling across the city. Then came the screams.

  She sprinted through the streets, wind swirling around her legs to boost her speed as she dodged falling debris and lunging swarms of leviathans. Three of the Four Leviathans had breached the whirlpool—Rhizocapala, Eurypteria, and Leptostrasa—and they were tearing through the city like an unstoppable storm.

  Her comrades fell around her, their cries for help echoing in her ears. She fought to save them, but for every life she protected, two more were lost.

  She wasn’t fast enough.

  She wasn’t enough.

  And when she reached her household’s mansion, her heart plummeted.

  The grand estate was in ruins, smoke billowing from shattered windows and crumbled walls. Her servants were dead. Her collection of hobby items were destroyed. Her papa and mama lay motionless in the rubble, their once-proud figures now broken and lifeless.

  … Maria’s voice cracked as she spotted a child huddled in the courtyard, tears streaming down her face.

  Eurypteria, the Water Scorpion God, loomed over little Reina, and the bug was feeding her its blood.

  Maria didn’t hesitate. Didn’t think. She charged forward, the killing pressure radiating from Eurypteria threatening to crush her, but she refused to stop.

  Her Art surged, wind and rainwater and debris and fire spiraling around her legs and arms as she leaped into the fray. Her kick connected with Eurypteria’s armored side, a deafening crack reverberating through the air.

  “Leave her alone!” Maria screamed, throwing herself between Reina and the monstrous god. But Eurypteria retaliated with blinding speed, its tail slicing through the air. Maria barely dodged, the force of its attacks tearing through her defenses. Her body screamed in pain as she pushed herself beyond her limits, every movement a desperate attempt to hold the god at bay.

  Blood stained her uniform as gashes opened across her arms and legs, but she refused to falter.

  For one minute and thirty-nine seconds, Maria Sangroja, the E-Rank Mutant-Class Imperator, fought Eurypteria to a standstill.

  Then, just as her strength was about to fade, a familiar blur darted into the battle.

  She recognised that feathered cap.

  She recognised that crooked posture.

  She recognised that aura—that killing pressure equal to an Insect God.

  “... I’ve got it from here,” he said plainly.

  She didn’t remember much after that

  She collapsed, cradling Reina in her arms as darkness claimed her.

  By the time she awoke in the infirmary, her body was a patchwork of bandages and stitches. Her face was scarred. A small chunk of her tongue was missing, so she couldn’t speak properly. She had to speak like a crude buccaneer now. She also later learned the man’s name, and of his victory—how he’d killed Leptostrasa and repelled the other two alongside the other Imperators. The city remained. The whirlpool was stable.

  But the victory felt hollow, and it didn’t matter how hard the nurses changing her bandages tried to sugarcoat it.

  Her father was gone. Her family was gone.

  Maria stared at the ceiling in silence, tears sliding down her cheeks. She wasn’t fast enough to save anyone she cared about. She wasn’t fast enough to reach anyone she cared about.

  But she could be.

  She still be.

  The years blurred together after that.

  She rebuilt her family’s legacy from the ground up. She refounded the Sangroja Household, fixed her mansion, and took over her papa’s factories.

  By twenty-five, her speed was unmatched amongst the Imperators.

  By twenty-six, she was promoted to a Lighthouse Imperator.

  By twenty-seven, she was rich enough to adopt Reina as her little sister.

  Maria sat with fifteen-year-old Reina in a sunlit room, guiding the girl patiently as she struggled to braid her own hair.

  "Not too tight," Maria said with a soft laugh, gently loosening the strands. “Ye’ll get the hang of it soon enough."

  Maria sat with sixteen-year-old Reina in the infirmary, showing the girl how to apply makeup with careful precision.

  "It ain’t about hidin’ the scars, Rei-Rei,” she said. “It’s about enhancin’ what’s already beautiful.”

  Maria stood with seventeen-year-old Reina in a dusty training courtyard, their breaths visible in the crisp morning air. Maria demonstrated a defensive stance, her movements swift and deliberate, but Reina wasn't as talented as her. That was fine. Her own talent hadn't saved anyone during the breach.

  "Yer balance, Rei-Rei,” she said. “Never lose yer balance. Don’t get swept off yer feet."

  Reina’s determined face scrunched with effort as she did her best to mimic Maria’s pose.

  Change. Maria stood with eighteen-year-old Reina in front of a vibrant sweets shop. The air was thick with the scent of sugar and warm pastries. Reina’s face lit up as she surveyed the colorful display of confections, and Maria, standing behind her, looked only bemused but indulgent. She ordered an assortment of treats for Reina, ignoring the cloying sweetness she personally disliked.

  Change. More moments tumbled together, blurring into a kaleidoscope of random memories. She was helping Reina with her schoolwork, laughing as they sat cross-legged on the floor. She was sewing a small tear in Reina’s favorite dress late at night, her hands steady and practiced. She was standing tall before a group of nervous Imperator initiates, leading them all to Depth Four for the first time. She was diving with Rei-Rei and a completely new recruit who’d barely had her Water Strider Class for half a year, but this time, she was fast enough.

  She was enough.

  So when Eurypteria’s tail darted in to decapitate the new recruit, she lunged in without hesitation, because that was what that man had done for her—

  And then Marisol jolted back to the present, gasping for air as she snatched her hand away from Maria’s glove.

  Her chest was heaving, her vision was swimming, and her throat was tightening as tears pricked at her eyes.

  the Archive commented idly.

  A prickle of unease wormed through her. It wasn’t a reprimand, but it might as well have been, so she wiped her eyes with a sniffle and took a shaky breath.

  When she glanced up, she froze.

  Maria was staring with one lazy eye open, her head still resting against the table as they waited for their food to arrive.

  The Lighthouse Imperator didn’t move to write in her notebook. She didn’t do anything but stare. If she knew what Marisol just saw, she might slam Marisol’s head into the table to make her forget all about it, but… that wasn’t the type of person Maria was, after all.

  Without a word, Maria picked up her quill at long last and wrote something onto a napkin. Then she slid it across the table, her expression neutral, but her eyes warm with gratitude.

  Marisol felt her heart squeezing.

  “I did… what I could,” she whispered, still sniffling as she shook her head. “I could’ve been… faster, though.”

  “Really?

  Maria pulled her head from the table and nodded slowly, leaning back against her cushion.

  They shook hands, a silent promise passing between them. Marisol’s grip was firm, and Maria’s steady—and before the handshake could even break, the front door to Familia burst open.

  Reina sprinted in, her wild gaze scanning the room until it locked onto Maria. Without hesitation, she darted over and threw her arms around Maria in a fierce hug. Tears spilled freely as Reina blabbered about Maria leaving the mansion without telling her, and everybody looked at them weirdly, but… Maria’s own arms came up, returning Reina’s hug and patting her head gently.

  Watching them, Marisol couldn’t help but smile. They didn’t exactly look alike, but right here, right now, she felt jealous—and maybe a little sad that she didn’t have any siblings herself.

  So, when Reina eventually pulled away and rubbed her eyes, Marisol cleared her throat and sent both Lighthouse Imperators a bright smile.

  “Maria and I were just talking about training,” Marisol began, leaning back in her seat. “Wanna come, Reina?”

  Then Reina jumped. Most likely, she hadn’t realised Marisol was accompanying Maria—and she most likely wouldn’t have bawled her eyes out in front of a junior—but the past was the past. Marisol wouldn’t tell if Maria didn’t tell.

  And for her part, Reina didn’t even hesitate. She composed herself, sat up straight, and fierce determination burned away any sort of sorrow or guilt still on her face.

  By the time Helena returned with Marisol’s fish dishes and Maria’s desserts, placing delicate plates of pastries and bowls of frothy drinks before them, the three of them were already arguing about how to make the most of their time before the Depth Five Reclamation Mission.

  Water Bug Facts #78: Whirligig beetles are some of the fastest swimming insects in the world. They can reach a peak acceleration of a 100 m/s2 and a top velocity of a hundred body lengths per second!

  Next chapter on Sunday!

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