William thrust his fingers into the skull of the final kaiju eel, using his hand like a blade. The surrounding water churned into a murky vortex of blood and seawater, with fragments of flesh, bone, and viscera drifting aimlessly in the depths.
His suit, marred by deep tooth marks along its frame, bore the scars of an intense battle. Suspended in the abyss, a faint orange, flame-like energy flickered around him, casting a dim glow that pushed back the oppressive darkness. Peering downward, the light barely penetrated the deeper, impenetrable void below, a realm untouched by humanity, steeped in ancient and foreboding blackness.
Reaching out, he extended his hand toward the boundary where the almost tangible darkness began, separating it from the clearer waters above. The sight was both alluring and deeply unsettling.
Just before his fingers could graze the darkness, a blue-scaled hand clamped around his wrist. Turning, William found himself surrounded by fish people, their features strikingly similar to those of the hero Aquarius.
"What are you doing? Halt immediately or face the consequences!" demanded another merman as he appeared on the opposite side, his spear aimed directly at the back of William's head. The weapon's shaft radiated an eerie blue light, casting an otherworldly glow.
William froze, his hand stopping mid-motion in response to the sudden peril. Slowly turning, he found the glowing spear mere inches from his face. With a sneer curling his lips, he growled, "Remove that weapon from my face unless you want to taste it yourself!"
His voice dripped with anger, his blazing eyes reflecting the fury that burned within him.
"You... You dare?" the merman stammered, his voice faltering with disbelief as his spear trembled in his grip. But his hesitation was brief; instincts born of training quickly overtook his shock. Steadying himself, he pointed the spear firmly at William once again.
"Human, you will come with us willingly or suffer the consequences. By the authority of the Kingdom of Atlantis, you are hereby under arrest!"
The Atlantean's bulbous eyes gleamed with resolve as he stood his ground. William exhaled softly, his hand moving with astonishing speed to grasp the spear just below its glowing blade.
CTCH!
A cold, menacing smile spread across William's face, sending a shiver of unease through the Atlantean. Nearby, another merman instinctively reached for the blade at his side, bracing himself for an inevitable confrontation.
The Atlantean gripping the spear struggled fiercely to regain control of his weapon, but William's hold was unyielding, as solid and unbreakable as forged steel, rendering the spear useless in his hands.
Suddenly, William released his grip, using the Atlantean's pent-up strength against him, causing the warrior to be flung backward with immense force. He crashed into the lifeless body of an eel kaiju, the impact resonating through the watery depths.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAAA!" William's thunderous laughter reverberated through the ocean, wild and unrestrained. The surrounding Atlanteans froze, staring in a mix of disbelief and growing rage. Yet, behind his maniacal outburst, a small part of William's mind questioned how much longer he could push forward before succumbing to the abyss within.
As the laughter faded, William slowly raised his hands in surrender, signaling his acceptance of capture.
Bound in thick, rune-etched chains that heightened the water's pressure around him, William was subdued. The crushing force that would pulverize an ordinary being seemed to him like an intense workout, merely testing the limits of his strength.
When one of the Atlanteans grabbed William's shoulder and attempted to push him forward, the warrior was stunned by his immovable resistance. Even when enhancing his strength with water magic, the Atlantean found it was like trying to move an unyielding mountain.
William's smirk deepened as he turned his head toward the Atlantean, his glowing irises burning with an intensity that caused the Atlantean to involuntarily shudder. Without a word, William turned back and continued forward on his own accord, trailing behind the spear-wielding guard. The guard, who had been observing the exchange from a safe distance, still harbored a lingering fear. Noticing William now following him, the guard let out a resigned sigh and resumed his path toward the city concealed beneath the waves.
The silence between them was as suffocating as the crushing weight of the ocean floor.
William glided forward at an unhurried, calculated pace, his wrists shackled in glowing rune-etched chains that emitted a faint luminescence in the murky depths. The two Atlantean guards stayed close but cautious, maintaining a wary distance as their uneasy glances darted toward him every few meters. Their blue-scaled armor refracted the scarce light, casting eerie, shimmering patterns on the trench walls as they descended deeper into the ocean's shadowy maw.
The trench constricted, forming a jagged passageway of ancient stone formations and coral edifices that resembled the ruins of submerged cathedrals. Strange bioluminescent creatures clung to the rugged surfaces, their movements like flickering underwater flames. Some retreated as the group passed, while others stirred awake, perhaps intrigued or unsettled by the faint orange glow emanating from William, a rhythmic pulse like the beating heart of something otherworldly.
Ahead, the trench opened up once more. Suddenly, the oppressive darkness was pierced by light.
It was not the natural light of the sun but a vast, ethereal radiance emanating from an immense spherical cityscape. This luminous metropolis was a masterpiece of glistening coral, towering obsidian spires, and glowing domes, cradled within the protective embrace of tectonic ridges.
Atlantis.
The sight was mesmerizing.
Gigantic gates crafted from reinforced shell and volcanic rock guarded the city's borders, engraved with glowing blue glyphs that pulsed more intensely as William neared. Beyond the gates, spiraling towers reached skyward like the pinnacles of a sunken fortress. Bioluminescent networks coursed across the city's surface, intertwining organic and technological elements. Majestic and fearsome creatures patrolled its boundaries: armored sentient crustaceans, deep-sea dragons bridled by riders, and silverfish sentinels darting in coordinated swarms like schools of synchronized stars.
The guards slowed their pace as they approached the gates.
The spear-wielding guard, who had remained silent since the arrest, finally spoke. His voice was laced with unease. "Do not speak unless addressed. Do not resist the magi's inspection. If you do…"
William tilted his head and smirked. "You'll what? Hit me with a fish stick again?"
The guard flinched, while his companion tightened his grip on the trident but remained silent.
As they crossed the barrier, an invisible membrane shimmered over William's skin, scanning his aura. The chains momentarily pulsed in reaction to the city's ancient magic before dimming as reluctant clearance was granted. The entire gateway seemed to vibrate like a living heartbeat.
Inside, the water was pristine, purified by Atlantean enchantments and pressure stabilization fields. Citizens swam gracefully along designated channels between buildings, their forms lithe and elegant. They wore flowing garments crafted from kelp-silk and pearl-thread, their expressions shifting between curiosity and caution as they caught sight of the chained outsider flanked by two visibly uneasy guards.
Near a dome-shaped library, a group of children paused their lessons to peer through a crystal corridor at William. One whispered something to another, who pointed at the scene. Their teacher quickly ushered them along, sparing William a glance that oscillated between fear and intrigue.
William took in his surroundings silently, his mind cataloging every detail, the sharp tang of salt, the ancient stone, the weight of the water, and the omnipresent hum of magic. There was something ancient here, watching, waiting.
The trio arrived at a spiraling tower at the city's core. In stark contrast to the graceful architecture of the rest of Atlantis, this structure was brutalist, its sharp, angular lines hewn from deep-black stone that absorbed light rather than reflected it. A single glowing glyph on its facade pulsed rhythmically, like a heartbeat.
"The Spire of Judgement," the guard beside him muttered, the words seemingly meant more to reassure himself than to offer any comfort to William.
As they approached the imposing entrance, a group of four armored figures stepped forth. They were taller and more commanding, their presence exuding an air of authority. Their armor was adorned with intricate golden trims and etched with shimmering sigils that seemed to ripple with layered meanings. One of them held a staff crowned with a rotating sphere of luminous, liquid light.
Without moving her lips, a female voice resonated telepathically, echoing clearly in William's mind.
"Surface-born warrior... you stand before Queen Nemyra, sovereign ruler of the Atlantean Deep, Keeper of the Abyssal Flame, and Warden of the Nine Trenches."
William's gaze sharpened as he locked eyes with her. The queen stood taller than her kin, radiating an aura of authority and strength. Her armor gleamed like moonlight on restless waves, while her cape, crafted from bioluminescent kelp that seemed alive, floated behind her, mirroring the currents of the sea. Her crown, an intricate blend of black coral and opalescent pearls, framed her striking features, a balance of predatory grace and regal elegance.
"Quite the collection of titles," William muttered, though the dense water swallowed his words. "Royal theatrics at their finest."
Nemyra's luminous violet eyes, brighter than any other light in the trench, fixed on him. Her mental voice grew sharper and more commanding.
"You defile these sacred waters with your insolence and violence. Yet you do not bow. You do not fear judgment. This intrigues me."
"Fear is a luxury I abandoned long ago." William's thoughts responded with unwavering defiance, as though she had reached into the part of him incapable of submission.
The guards flanking her raised their weapons in unison, but a single, graceful gesture from Nemyra was enough to halt them. Without a word, they obeyed, lowering their arms.
She lifted her staff high.
The orb at its peak began to spin rapidly, emitting tendrils of shimmering liquid light that writhed through the water like living strands of thought. The chains binding William's arms flared with a brilliant golden glow, straining against the intrusion of magic, but their resistance was futile as the queen's power over these runes was absolute. The queen's power flowed effortlessly past his defenses, not in an assault, but seeping into the hidden recesses of his mind, smooth and unyielding like oil slipping through fractures in stone.
William wavered, his footing unsteady, as the world around him dissolved into an all-encompassing darkness.
Mindscape.
He stood barefoot on a vast sea of obsidian glass, its surface reflecting the pulsing orange glow of a distant horizon. Overhead, constellations drifted, trapped beneath a shimmering dome of water that seemed to hold the sky itself. Time unraveled in this surreal expanse, stretching and bleeding into eternity. He glanced down at his reflection, a hollow-eyed figure, scarred and battered, with the faint glow of a crystal embedded in his chest, pulsing rhythmically with his heartbeat.
Then the voices began.
They weren't Nemyra's, but echoes of his own past.
The memory of his first kill.
His first death.
The searing pain of his bones snapping under an enemy's heel.
The tender warmth of his mother's voice.
The relentless cycle of training, suffering, and rage.
"You wear your rage like armor," came the queen's voice, reverberating from everywhere at once.
"I didn't give you permission to dig," William growled, spinning toward the sound. But there was no source, no form, only the rippling waves of memory.
Suddenly, the scene shifted.
He stood before a younger version of himself, no older than ten, curled into a fetal position on a floor drenched in blood, his own blood. The child didn't stir, didn't look up.
The older William clenched his fists, trembling with emotion. Nemyra's voice came again, soft yet piercing.
"This is your soul, William Black. Raw. Exposed."
His teeth bared in defiance. "Enough!"
A fiery eruption surged from his chest, shattering the obsidian beneath him and sending violent ripples through the watery sky above. The memories disintegrated, burning away like parchment consumed by flame.
Reality.
William gasped as he regained consciousness, his eyes blazing with a golden-orange light. Steam rose from his bound wrists as the runes etched into the chains failed to suppress the psychic backlash.
The Queen remained steady, her expression calm though a faint sheen of sweat glistened on her brow. One of her advisors stepped forward, his face etched with concern, but she dismissed him with a wave of her hand.
"Impressive," she said aloud this time, her voice measured but tinged with exhaustion. "You resisted the Spire's judgment."
William smirked, his breathing now steady. "Next time, try buying me dinner first."
A faint flicker of amusement crossed her otherwise inscrutable face.
"You are dangerous. Brutal. Reckless. But you are not evil," she observed.
"Glad you figured that out after taking a deep dive into my trauma."
The Queen began to circle him, her fingers trailing through the water as though stirring unseen currents of thought. "I saw your memories, yes. But I also saw your restraint. You could have killed my guards. You could have broken the chains. Yet you chose not to."
"I didn't because I chose not to," William replied, his gaze locked onto her. "Not because I couldn't."
"Choice is what defines sentience," she stated. "That gives me hope."
She turned toward the guards and gave a single, resolute nod. With visible reluctance, they deactivated the chains. The runes dimmed, and the crushing pressure that had gripped William's bones eased. He rotated his wrists and stretched his shoulders.
"You didn't haul me here just for a therapy session," he said, his tone sharp. "What do you want?"
Queen Nemyra stared out at the city through a translucent pane set into the black stone wall, her gaze fixed on the shimmering light of Atlantis, flickering like a star on the verge of extinction.
"Something stirs in the depths of the Ninth Trench," she murmured, her voice heavy with foreboding. "It is something ancient… older than Atlantis, older than the seas themselves."
William stood silently, waiting for her to elaborate.
"It is a thoughtform, a curse that taints water, memory, and emotion. It existed before language and was once confined. But the tremors from your battle with the kaiju eels weakened its seal."
"Are you blaming me for breaking an ancient seal?" William asked, his tone sharp.
"I'm not assigning blame, merely stating facts. The seal would have broken eventually. Your actions only accelerated the process by a few years."
William arched an eyebrow. "You need my help?"
"Yes," she admitted, her voice tinged with an uncharacteristic vulnerability.
A profound silence stretched between them, even the water seeming to hold its breath.
William let her request linger in the charged stillness of prophecy and fate.
Finally, he grinned.
"I'll do it," he said. "But on one condition."
"Name it."
In the lightless depths where William faced the queen of Atlantis, an enchanted and mystical gate hovered motionless in the void. It was secured by massive chains etched with ancient runes, crafted from an otherworldly material designed to withstand extreme forces and temperatures. Yet, several links in the chains bore fractures and creeping cracks, spreading like a corrosive blight through the once-impervious metal.
From these fractures, a dark and ominous aura seeped, unfurling like inky tendrils that writhed against the surrounding emptiness, consuming even the faintest remnants of light. The abyss, though silent and airless, felt stifling, as if the void itself recoiled from the corrupting presence exuding from the gate.
Then, the abyss quaked.
RUMBLE—
A deep, resonant vibration reverberated through the void, as though the very bedrock of the ocean floor had begun to shift. The chains rattled violently, groaning and clinking under the immense pressure of an enormous force battering against the gate from the other side. The sound was a haunting blend of mechanical grinding and organic struggle, as if a living entity sought to claw its way free from an ancient confinement.
The fractures spread rapidly, spiderwebbing through the links at an alarming pace. From the cracks, thick shadows poured forth, intensifying the aura until it solidified into a palpable shroud of dread. The abyss itself seemed to convulse, recoiling from the surge of power unleashed beyond the enchanted gate.