Reincarnated as an Apocalyptic Catalyst-Chapter 109: Scorched Rot and Rising Tides

The sewer tunnel stretched into endless darkness, and the water around us made it hard to breathe, as the filth flowed into our lungs, it was laced with filth and decay. The air was damp and choked with rot, a mixture of stagnant waste and something far worse—the scent of long-dead things that had never been given peace.

The blasted dead things were rising from the grave to attack us.

The creatures didn’t lurch forward with the awkward, mindless movements of typical undead. They moved deliberately, with an unnatural fluidity, their waterlogged bodies swaying with the current as they inched closer. We needed to prepare before we were hit by a full-on horde of this drowned undead.

One of them, its jaw slack and hanging too far open, lifted an unnaturally long arm and pressed its fingers to the surface of the water as it shifted about and tried to cling to us.

The ripple cascaded outward, and there was more movement, more things stirring beneath the filth. I had exactly two seconds to process that before the first one lunged.

The piece of shit was way too fast for something that should have been falling apart at the joints.

I barely twisted out of the way as bloated fingers swiped where my throat had been, the sudden movement sending waves crashing against the tunnel walls. The thing didn’t stop, didn’t stumble—it just readjusted instantly, its skeletal grin widening as if it were enjoying this.

Oh, that was not a good sign.

"Contact!" I snarled, kicking up a wave as I jerked backward. My daggers were already in my hands, the Phantom Edge glowing faintly as it passed through the water like it was slicing mist. The blade bit into the creature’s stomach, cleaving it open from hip to rib like it was butter. Unfortunately, the real issue was that despite how I attacked them, they wouldn’t bleed or suffer. Strikes caused damage, but they didn’t cause lasting damage. If you didn’t outright defeat the enemy, it would keep coming at you.

Instead, the black, inky water inside of it simply filled the gap, reforming the wound as if I’d never touched it. The thing tilted its head at me, grinning with teeth like broken glass.

"Lucian!" Nythera shouted, her voice cracking with panic.

Yeah. I noticed.

"Regenerates through the water!" I barked. "Cutting them isn’t gonna—"

Another one lurched from the side, swiping at Vance. He managed to parry, his blade sliding against the thing’s ribs, but the same problem happened. The moment the weapon left its body, the flesh knitted itself back together.

Vance cursed. "That’s just cheating!"

Then the water itself surged into a strong, unnatural pull that nearly yanked me off my feet. It wasn’t a current, but more of a trap. These things weren’t just fighting us, they were trying to drown us and turn us into one of them.

I dug my boots into the slick stone beneath the surface, holding my ground just as Ronan raised his hand and fired a burst of red-hot energy into the closest one’s chest and the result was immediate. The undead shrieked, its bloated body convulsing as steam erupted from its gaping maw.

Fire, fire worked where everything else failed. I wasn’t sure if it was just a magical fire, but still, this was an advantage we couldn’t ignore.

"Burn them!" I snapped. "Boil them alive!"

Nythera didn’t hesitate. Her hands glowed bright, golden light swirling as she raised her staff. The spell took shape in an instant—a sphere of divine energy coalescing in the air before slamming into the nearest creature and its skin blackened instantly. freewёbnoνel-com

The shriek that tore from its throat was high-pitched, unearthly, a sound that made the tunnel vibrate. It collapsed backward into the water, writhing. Then, in a horrifying, synchronized movement, the remaining undead turned their heads toward Nythera as if they knew, as if they had just identified the biggest threat, and of course, they were coming for her.

"Shit," I breathed.

"Nythera, move!" Vance roared, shoving her backward just as two of them lunged.

I didn’t think. I just reacted as Phantom Edge burned in my hands while I stepped between them and Nythera, slicing through the air in a wide arc. But it wasn’t their bodies I aimed for, it was the connection, the black liquid inside them.

If they could regenerate by absorbing the water, then I just had to cut them off from it. The moment my blade passed through the shifting liquid, something changed. The glow in their eyes flickered, their bodies staggering mid-step, suddenly slower, weaker. I didn’t know if it would last, but it was enough.

"Go!" I shouted, throwing my weight into a second swing. "Ronan, clear away—now!"

Ronan didn’t hesitate. His hands burned red, and the water erupted in a tidal wave of fire—

Boiling, scalding, and decimating everything in his wake.

The undead shrieked as the flames engulfed them, thrashing wildly as their bodies cracked apart, their regeneration failing under the intensity of the heat.

One of them reached for me even as its body disintegrated, its skeletal fingers brushing against my arm before it crumbled into black sludge.

The last one tried to retreat beneath the water, but Ronan—Sweet cold, precise, and merciless Ronan—simply lowered his hand and set the entire tunnel ablaze.

The water turned to steam and then pure silence. Nothing more than the hissing of evaporating filth remained, the air thick with the scent of scorched rot, filling our nostrils with its acrid scent.

I was breathing hard. So was Vance. Nythera had sunk to her knees, gripping her staff like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

Ronan just stood there, watching the burning corpses sink into the sludge.

"...Okay," Vance finally muttered, dragging a shaking hand through his soaked hair. "I really hate water undead."

I exhaled slowly, running my thumb over my sword’s hilt. "Yeah," I muttered, gazing down the tunnel.

The water had receded slightly, revealing more of the ancient stone beneath, but the darkness ahead remained unchanged. We had won, but something told me this was just the beginning.

The water was still boiling, steam curling around us like mist rising from a battlefield. The seared remnants of our enemies drifted in grotesque tatters, their once-regenerating bodies now reduced to nothing more than floating waste in the thick, putrid sludge.

The heat had burned away more than just the undead. The foul stench of the sewer had intensified, blending into something acrid and sharp. My lungs burned with every breath.

Vance let out a long, slow exhale, still gripping his sword like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. "So, uh... How about we don’t do that again?"

Nythera didn’t answer. She was staring at the steaming water, her knuckles white around her staff. She was still shaking.

I frowned. "Nythera?"

She blinked, as if suddenly remembering we existed. She inhaled sharply and shook her head like she was trying to push the fear aside. "I—I’m fine. Just..." She swallowed hard. "That was too close."

I glanced at her hands. They were still glowing faintly, wisps of divine magic curling around her fingertips. She had used a lot of energy in that fight, more than she probably should have.

"Yeah," I muttered. "You and me both."

The water had lowered slightly, but the tunnel was still half-flooded. The way ahead remained shrouded in blackness, deeper than any light could reach. Whatever lay ahead?

It was still waiting for us.

And something told me the Drowned Dead wasn’t the worst thing lurking in these tunnels.

[Enemies Defeated: 40 Drowned Dead. XP Gained: 25 times 500 xp times 35 xp modifier for 35,000 xp.]

[XP: 756,000/819,200]

[Level Up! Congratulations, you are level 16!]

God damn, I was thankful for whatever XP-share bullshit this dungeon provided. If I had to split my XP with the entire group, it would take forever to level up.

Vance cheered to himself, "Fuck yeah, level 15, and I’m even close to level 16! This is going to be easy!"

Nythera and Ronana cheered themselves, though more from Nythera, as Ronan silently celebrated his gains. Nythera was excited to reach level 15, but still a decent distance from 16. Still, she was excited and embraced Vance.

I maintained silence, beyond telling the others how great I thought their advancements were. Vance looked at me questioningly but didn’t say anything thankfully, as I was a small burst from 17 and that could unsettle my allies.

I activated my character sheet and contemplated how I would assign my stat points.

I threw 5 into dexterity, Vance followed suit, while Ronan and Nythera put their points into Intellect. I thought Nythera might put some into Wisdom, but I think she was too spooked by the enemies. She must have felt like she needed to have more potent spells, rather than regeneration. It made sense, we were doing great, but still, what if we were in a battle longer than a few minutes, rather than some long drawn-out situation where we need her to have as much mana as possible?

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