Reincarnated as an Apocalyptic Catalyst-Chapter 112: They Came From the Deep

I nodded, exhaling slowly. "Then let’s get it over with, quietly if we’re lucky. I’d like to survive one with overwhelming success."

We fell back into formation—Vance and I taking the front, Ronan and Nythera holding the rear—and stepped back into the darkness. The pulse came again, fainter this time, more distant, though almost deliberate, leaving me feeling as though I was being strung along, lured into some kind of trap.

"Anyone else getting sacrificial lamb vibes?" I muttered, keeping my voice low, mostly to break the silence clinging to us like a second skin.

Nythera’s voice floated from behind me, soft and uncertain. "It feels like we’re walking into the maw of a great beast," and that pretty much was how I had felt.

The air had shifted again, it wasn’t the familiar dampness, it was warm, and sticky, solidifying Nythera’s claim as I couldn’t help but think of a disgusting beast exhaling on us. It clung to our skin and made our movements sluggish. Every breath tasted like decay and mildew, and every step forward made my instincts scream for me to turn around, unfortunately, we didn’t, because as usual, we never did that sort of thing. Where was the fun in retreating, when we could all die glorious deaths together?

It took some time, but we eventually stepped into a new chamber that was massive, and circular, like the remains of a cathedral that had sunk into the earth and been forgotten. The ceiling loomed high above, held up by cracked columns, and faint beams of green light filtered through rusted grates. I had hoped for a moment that it was sunlight, but even down here, that color was unnatural.

At the center of the room was a pool. The water moved, sure, but it wasn’t clear. The surface rippled and churned, thick and dark like old tar. The pulse came from it was deep and slow before the rancid smell hit us.

"I swear to god, if this is a giant zombie croc, I’m going to lose my shit," I muttered as we continued nearer.

It was absolutely horrendous. The scent of rot, thick and overwhelming was mixed with the iron stench of old blood that had soaked deeply into the stone. One issue I immediately noticed was the fact that there was so much blood and death. Whatever was down here, had been hoarding corpses and luring victims.

Vance murmured beside me, his voice a quiet rasp. "Are we sure we want to continue?"

"I get it, it’s a trap, but there’s only one way out of here, and that’s forward," I muttered, stepping forward. ƒrēenovelkiss.com

Suddenly the pool stirred as a single hand broke the surface—elongated, the fingers ending in hooked claws, skin stretched so tight it looked like parchment over bone. It moved with sickening grace, pulling itself up inch by inch, followed by another, and another, and another, until finally six of them had emerged in total.

Thank whatever god ruled over this hellscape. It’s not a giant zombie croc.

Their bodies were slick and semi-translucent, as if they were made of congealed fluid barely holding itself in a human shape. God knows how long these bastards had been submerged, and furthermore, how the hell had they not just entirely dissolved? With every step, their forms are distorted. They had no eyes, just one massive maw stretched wide across their faces, packed with spiraling rows of teeth that looked like they better belonged on a horrifying apex predator of the deep.

"Lucian," Vance said, stepping up beside me, his voice tight. "Tell me you’ve got a plan."

"Oh, sure," I said, envisioning the effects of Phantom Edge and tightening my grip. "Step one: don’t get eaten."

Then the lead creature opened its mouth and the scream hit us with a resonance that nearly burst our eardrums. We had to hold our ears, and even that did very little.

Nythera cried out behind me, staggering. I saw her collapse against the stone. Even Ronan winced—Ronan of all people—his body jerked ever so slightly to reveal that he was indeed a mortal being.

When the scream finally faded, it left behind a headache so sharp I thought I might vomit, and of course, this was the perfect time for them to attack, a thought that our enemies shared.

They didn’t shuffle or groan. Despite their broken bodies and gelatinous forms, they charged like absolute maniacs. I brought up my dagger just in time, slicing into the first one’s arm. The limb severed cleanly but to our dismay, it instantly reformed, the fluid mass pulling itself back together as if I’d never touched it.

Still, it flinched, which meant the creature felt the hit. That being said, it meant that they could be killed, which was great for us.

"We need to hit fast," I shouted, pushing forward. "Don’t give them a second chance to scream again, and try to overwhelm that bullshit healing factor!"

The fight had been brief, but it left behind a deep exhaustion that radiated through our entire core, stuck to us like that same sickening scent—thick, cloying, impossible to ignore. Every breath was laced with something foul, every step forward a reminder that we were only delving deeper into danger, and further from safety.

[Enemies Defeated x6.]

[Experience Gained: 2,000 Per Party Member. Personal Experience Gained: 6 times 2,000 XP Times 35 XP Modifier for 12,000 XP.]

It wasn’t a lot, but it was honest work, and none of us had taken any significant level of damage, which was nice.

None of us had much to say in the moments that followed. Our voices would have only echoed off the tunnel walls, bouncing back with no comfort, no resolution—just the sound of our own frayed nerves.

Nythera stuck close behind me, seeking some semblance of control, even if the control was in the hands of stronger fighters that could keep her safe. I could tell her thoughts were still caught somewhere between the increasingly frequent attacks on our party. She wasn’t trembling, not anymore, but her grip on her staff was white-knuckled and desperate—like she was holding onto a lifeline she couldn’t afford to lose.

I didn’t speak to her right away though it wasn’t because I didn’t care, I just knew the look in her eyes—hell, I’d worn it myself more times than I could count. That hollow, far-off stare people get when they’re still fighting off a nightmare that hasn’t quite ended. She wasn’t weak, far from it. Though her time to shine was few and far between–as we had managed to make it through each battle with little damage to ourselves–she’d stood her ground and saved our asses more than once already. None of that meant she was fine, it just meant she hadn’t broken yet, not entirely.

Vance–the closest to my personality in the group–would be the one most likely to make a stupid joke when I fell short. Now, he was uncharacteristically quiet and walked with his sword still drawn, his eyes shifting between every shadow like he expected more beasts to leap from the walls at any moment. His confidence hadn’t shattered, not yet, but there was an edge to him now, something raw and sharp that hadn’t been there before despite everything we had experienced so far.

Even Ronan—who might as well have been carved from stone—moved differently. There was a precision to him, sure, but it wasn’t the usual detached efficiency. His posture had changed slightly, more guarded, like even he wasn’t entirely sure what to expect next. That said more than anything he could have verbalized.

I kept walking, leading us through the tunnels with my daggers still drawn and ready. My blade glowed faintly with residual energy, casting fractured reflections along the walls, the glyphs flickering in its light. I could feel something ahead–well not literally, but instinctually. That tightness in the chest, that prickle at the base of the spine that told you things were going to get worse before they got better.

My thoughts wandered to the potential monsters embedded in the ceiling, their eyes, their movements, the way they’d peeled themselves out of the stone. Whatever force controlled this dungeon wasn’t just animating corpses, it was evolving them, adapting them, using the very environment as a weapon. That wasn’t something I could ignore. And gods help me, I got the feeling we hadn’t passed whatever true threats this dungeon had to offer.

We passed through a stretch of tunnel where the walls shimmered faintly with an oily sheen, sweating some kind of black ichor. I didn’t touch it, naturally, why would any of us touch that disgusting substance? I wasn’t about to find out whether this dungeon had decided to get creative with contact poisons.

Nythera finally broke the silence. Her voice was soft, barely audible over the sloshing of our footsteps in the shallow water. "This place... It’s like fighting another person but with so much more power and influence."

"Had you even fought anyone before?" Vance muttered a little too harshly.

"I’ve taken the classes, I’ve been forced to duel. I might be a healer, but this feels a lot like a battle."

I glanced back at her. "Yeah," I said. "Feels like it’s learning, and if it is, it’s not gonna stop until we’re either dead or useful."

"Useful?" Vance muttered, furrowing his brow. "Useful how?"

"I don’t know," I admitted. "But dungeons like this... they don’t just spit out monsters for the hell of it. There’s always something at the center. A will, or mind." At least that’s how the books and games seem to portray them. I thought to myself, not betraying my ignorance. This was the first dungeon I had ever been in, but they didn’t need to know that.

That didn’t earn any replies. Just more tense silence.

The ground dipped again ahead, sloping downward into another section of tunnel that disappeared beneath a veil of steam and shadow. Whatever came next was likely a sub-boss, or a greater foe we had seen as of yet.

Read latest chapters at f(r)eewebnov𝒆l Only