CHAPTER 81: EASTWARD UNDER THE SEA

Bruma held the fifteen-foot pocket of air steady—an invisible dome of sanctuary pressed into the crushing depths of the Grey Sea. For one hour, just as she promised, she kept it intact. The walls around them hissed and groaned with pressure, but her gravitational pulse didn’t waver.

That hour was Lucy’s only reprieve. It wasn’t nearly enough to fully restore his mana—or recover after channeling both atomic radiation and the crucible of grace—but it was something. By the time he stirred awake, about a third of his divine reserves had trickled back into him.

And in Lucy’s case, even one-third of his mana was more than Gindu, Llarm, and Eri’s full capacity combined.

Now, that unlikely cohort was marching through a tunnel of flame and wind at the bottom of the sea.

Lucy led the way, conjuring a massive cylinder of searing fire ahead of them, its heat cutting through the cold abyss. The flames didn’t burn like normal—they pushed outward with purpose, parting the sea like a divine plow.

A breath later, he followed it with wind, sealing the fire’s path in a tunnel of rushing air. Instead of the towering vertical cylinder he had formed during the leviathan battle, this one stretched horizontally—an arched corridor blazing eastward through the depths.

But this time, he didn’t bear the burden alone. Llarm flanked the left side of the group, manipulating his own winds to stabilize the air pressure and ease the strain on Lucy. The gusts weren’t powerful but focused, steady, and loyal, just like their caster.

Bruma brought up the rear, her gravitational aura reinforcing the inner wall of the air pocket, pressing outward against the weight of the sea itself.

Together, they moved through the abyss like a slow-moving storm front—part flame, part wind, part stubborn will.

As they walked, their footsteps carved faint lines through the runes etched into the seafloor—and with each one disturbed, the Grey Sea’s call to swim deeper faded, until it vanished entirely.

The air was frigid. Despite the fire constantly flaring ahead of them, the chill of the deep clung to Lucy’s skin like frostbite wrapped in mist. He shivered, tugging the shredded remnants of his shirt around his torso. The Leviathan had taken his armor and weapon in their brutal clash, exposing much of his pale skin to the bitter cold. Deep bruises stained his ribs like wine beneath cracked porcelain.

Still, his mood had stabilized since waking. He whistled softly as he walked, the sound thin and reedy inside the compressed air bubble. It bounced off the warped tunnel walls, giving the eerie illusion that someone was whistling back.

Behind him, Fenric strolled with a lazy swagger, arms folded behind his head as if they weren’t several miles beneath the ocean’s surface. His silver hair floated slightly in the wind, and his boots echoed softly on the damp tunnel floor.

Carlos, the shadow wolf pup, strutted proudly beside him, ears perked, tail flicking like a banner. He walked like a prince patrolling his royal halls—arrogant and alert.

Further back were Eri and Gindu. They had waited above during Lucy’s rest, floating atop the sea’s surface with grim patience, but they’d joined the tunnel afterward. Lucy had parted the sea for just a few seconds with another fire cylinder, and they’d dropped down quickly before the waters reclaimed the gap.

Now, all six moved together through the eerie, half-lit corridor.

Occasionally, a beast would come too close—its shape twisting through the shadows of the sea beyond the tunnel wall. Sometimes Lucy saw claws, sometimes teeth, or a pair of eyes—a whisper of movement.

When that happened, Fenric, Carlos, Eri, and Gindu moved like trained hunters. One step out of formation, one flash of steel or fang, and the threat would vanish before it ever touched the flame wall.

The others—Lucy, Llarm, and Bruma—stayed focused on keeping the tunnel alive. Maintenance wasn’t glamorous, but the entire column would collapse in seconds without them.

And outside?

Only endless grey surrounded them.

The sea pressed tight against the outer edge of the tunnel—vast, dark, and immeasurably deep. The flickering fire cast warped reflections across it, like ghosts dancing just out of reach.

"Remind me again," Fenric said, arms still folded behind his head like this was a stroll through the park, "why we can’t just fly straight to Caelgorr’s island?"

Lucy paused mid-whistle, lips still pursed, ready to answer. But before he could speak, Eri beat him to it.

Her voice cut through the air like frost on steel. "Do you want Caelgorr to sense us... stupid mutt."

Lucy blinked. Cold, even for her. He couldn’t tell if that edge in her tone was still from whatever she saw in the statue... or from who she was talking to. Either way, he filed it away—he needed to ask her about that illusion. Whatever it was, it still had claws in her.

Fenric growled, the lazy tilt of his head snapping upright. "Who are you calling stupid, you dumb cat?"

Carlos barked once in agreement, tail flicking behind him like a whip.

Lucy could see the anticipation in Fenric’s eyes. He was itching for a fight—not with Eri, but alongside her. He wanted her to snap back like she usually did. But when she stayed silent, his grin curled into something sharper.

"Well?" he pressed. "Aren’t you excited to fight something strong? We were stuck floating on the damn surface while our fearless captain wrestled a god-beast! I want in. I need to. Caelgorr’s mine."

"That makes one of us," Llarm piped in, voice cheery despite the tension. "But don’t worry! The hero’s here. I’ll help defeat Caelgorr and bring honor to our legendary party!"

"That’s what I’m talking about!" Fenric said, clapping Llarm on the back so hard the elf stumbled.

Lucy sighed and launched another fire cylinder into the sea ahead. The tunnel groaned, walls shuddering, and a few fat drops of seawater sprayed inward before the fire expanded and wind magic sealed it.

His mind had latched onto something Fenric said: We were stuck on the surface.

Why were they left alone? If he were some nightmare-creature of the Grey Sea, he’d have picked them off while the strongest member of their group was busy drowning. But they hadn’t been touched.

That was... strange.

Lucy glanced sideways at Eri. The illusion Caelgorr showed them—her death by one of his monstrous limbs—still played in his mind. But it wasn’t the deaths that stuck with him. It was the one person he didn’t kill in the vision.

’Maybe the monsters out there are scared of her,’ he thought. ’And maybe whatever she’s hiding—whatever link she has to Nyxaris—is why.’

It made sense. Carlos, for one, had avoided Eri like she was dipped in poison until recently. Only now, in the tunnel, had he started walking near her. Before this, he’d acted like her very shadow might bite him.

Still thinking, Lucy’s thoughts drifted back to Caelgorr—those writhing limbs, the endless black eyes spread across its titanic form. Rage simmered in his chest.

He muttered, almost to himself, "Yeah. He’s going to die."

"Of course he is!" Gindu said instantly, puffing out his chest. His azure scales gleamed sharply, edges honed like blades. He hadn’t relaxed once since entering the tunnel. "Caelgorr is a mere wyrmling, after all. He is no match for Gindu and the Wyrmlings!"

Lucy froze. His eye twitched.

’Did he just name our group Gindu and the Wyrmlings?’

"Oh, please!" Llarm called out from behind. "We’re clearly The Amazing Hero and His Sidekicks Party!"

"The hell we are," Fenric growled. "We’re The Bloodthirsty Savages. Own it."

Lucy planted a palm against his forehead and exhaled hard. "I’m leading idiots," he muttered. "Actual, certifiable idiots."

He glanced back at Bruma. She hadn’t spoken once during the exchange. Her arms were outstretched, fingers spread wide, holding the pressure of the sea at bay with nothing but sheer gravitational force. Her green skin trembled slightly with the effort, and her eyes flicked toward the group like she wanted to say something—maybe call them all fools, maybe ask Gindu if calling people ’wyrmlings’ was some ancient dragonkin insult.

But she said nothing.

Something was bothering her. She wasn’t just tired. Lucy could feel it.

’Probably fatigue,’ he told himself anyway.

He turned back and kept walking through the firelit tunnel, toward Caelgorr’s island.

And whatever came next.