Damon sank further down into the wreckage, the box floating behind him. Pulling it into the water with him was a little harder than he expected, the buoyancy of the wood resisting his grip. He let himself sink, careful to avoid the twisted shrapnel jutting out around him. The water was murky in this part—rust, decay, and time had turned it into a thick, brown-green soup. As he descended, his eyes caught glimpses of skeletons caught between shattered beams and collapsed walls—silent, brittle reminders of those who had died here. He wondered briefly how they'd met their end before quickly forcing the thought away. He didn't have time to get lost in the past. His friends were inside the box. He needed to make sure they lived—to get them to breathable air. That cramped space must be suffocating… claustrophobic. Damon felt the strain ripple through his muscles as he pushed his body to navigate narrow openings, weaving past twisted metal and sunken debris. One wrong move and the entire wreck could collapse on top of him. But after what felt like endless seconds, he finally broke free of the submerged ruin. He stopped in place like a fish hiding in a cave. Quiet. Still. Then he extended his shadow perception outward through the water—not too far, just enough to sense his surroundings without alerting anything else. Then he moved, his body still disguised beneath the grotesque costume of monster body parts. His gaze couldn't help but flicker upward. The monsters above were still in a frenzy, drawn toward the surface. Too bad. He had used their chaos to escape. He pulled the box gently through the open water, resisting the urge to rush. Every move was calculated, slow, cautious. The water around him opened wider, yet it was no less dangerous. Beneath him lay the fragments of a once-great city—buildings, personal effects, shattered pieces of history, art, and lost technology. He moved deeper into the ruins, the box tethered to his omnidirectional gear with thin wires. Damon remained vigilant, his shadow perception reaching only a few meters in every direction. The water weighed down on him—his body heavy and sluggish. Somehow, he could still breathe. His lungs processed oxygen as if he were above water. it was the underwater effects of [water celebration], quietly doing its work. He must've looked bizarre—some small, stitched-together creature hauling a massive wooden box through the deep. Damon pressed on, his body heat already adapted to the chill of the depths. His heartbeat steady under the effects of Remorseless. He crept closer to a massive sunken structure, careful not to attract attention. As he swam past a large, open crevice, his danger sense suddenly tingled. Without thinking, Damon turned to shadow, slipping free just as a monstrous jaw burst out from the darkness below. The creature had lunged at him—something massive, something ancient—but it missed by a hair. Its presence was suffocating, so vast and overwhelming that Damon instinctively knew: it was far beyond his rank. The beast retreated into the hole it had come from, and Damon was thrown aside by the turbulent current caused by its movement. The box followed, tumbling through the water alongside him. Damon bit his lip as the current suddenly changed again. His eyes widened. Ahead was a swirling underwater spatial rift—a spiraling vortex of distortion pulling in debris and water alike. Anything caught in its pull was crushed, devoured, and transported to some unknown place. Gritting his teeth, Damon reached out, fingers stretching desperately until they latched onto a piece of broken wreckage—wedged tightly, unmoving. He groaned, muscles screaming as the current tried to rip him and the box away. He tugged with all he had, praying the wires holding the box wouldn't snap. Finally—snap! He broke free, swept upward by a rising current. Damon gasped. Or at least, tried to. He was still underwater. He didn't understand how the skill worked, or why he could breathe—but he could. The ache in his body began to fade. He drifted beside a moss-covered wreck, his senses sharp. He recognized this place. Sylvia had drawn a map of the underwater ruins—meticulously detailed. This area was dangerous. Not just because of monsters, but because of other, more arcane threats—carnivorous flora, unstable spatial rifts, and time anomalies that twisted the laws of nature. Now came the hard part—getting to the deeper section and locating the hole Sylvia had marked as the exit to the surface. Damon knocked slowly on the box. He waited. Seconds passed. A knock came from inside. A signal—they were still alive. The box was intact. No leaks. If there had been any, Matia was supposed to freeze the damage shut with her ice magic. He took a deep breath. And then plunged downward, fast as he could. This part was the most dangerous—home to beasts that even carefully crafted basic concealment runes couldn't fool. So the only plan was to rush. As he sank, he knocked twice on the box. Xander understood the signal and activated his gravity magic. The box grew heavy. Gravity pulled them faster. The pressure increased rapidly. Cracks appeared along the box's surface, the ancient wood groaning as the magic reinforcing it began to fail. Seconds passed. But they were so close— Then the world shifted. Something opened its eyes. Golden. Ancient. Massive. Fins larger than a cathedral unfurled slowly in the darkness. Damon froze as fangs the size of towers parted, sucking in water like a vortex. The creature was so massive—so fast—he hadn't even noticed it until now. He kicked the box, signaling Xander—hurry! The creature wasn't in a rush. It moved with the slow, terrible confidence of something that had never once been prey. 'Shit… shit… shit…' Its eyes blinked, staring at the box… and at Damon in his monster disguise. Damon turned into a shadow again, slipping free from the costume. He kicked the discarded suit upward—bait. The creature's gaze shifted, distracted for just a moment. Damon fired his gear, the grappling wires shooting toward a cluster of broken walls and pillars where a half-crumbled stairway led up through the ruins. The creature turned back—but Damon was already gone, slipping upward, dragging the box with him. He breached the surface, air exploding into his lungs. With a gasp, he hurled the box onto the base of the staircase, the stone etched with glowing, unfamiliar runes. He collapsed beside it, panting. "Gwar… gawer…" A strange noise echoed above him—deep in the shadows. Water dripped from the ceiling, plinking into the silence. This… was just the beginning.