John barely had time to finish his sentence before Ziraya’s boot connected with the factory doors. The heavy metal slammed open with a deafening crash, nearly tearing off the hinges before rebounding off the concrete walls with a sharp clang. Dust swirled in the air.

  The workers inside froze mid-task. A few of them, clad in oil-streaked overalls, exchanged uncertain glances before looking back at the imposing dragon-blooded woman standing in the doorway, golden mana already crackling around her.

  John, standing just behind her, sighed and offered the room a half-hearted, apologetic smile. Then, as if to avoid the awkwardness, he turned his attention to the factory floor—rows of massive copper vats linked by a sprawling network of thick pipes, all groaning under the strain of whatever process they were running.

  Ziraya, meanwhile, wasn’t in the mood for distractions.

  “I am looking for Sarah,” she declared, her voice sharp as a blade. Her fierce gaze swept the room, daring someone—anyone—to challenge her demand.

  For a moment, silence hung thick in the air. Then, from the back of the building, a loud, irritated huff split through the tension.

  “Oi!” The voice was rough, authoritative, and thoroughly unimpressed. A door flew open, slamming against the wall with a force that nearly rivaled Ziraya’s earlier entrance. Out stomped a stout dwarven woman, her boots thudding heavily against the floor with each step. Despite her modest height, she carried herself with the weight of someone who commanded the space. Her graying hair was pulled into a tight bun, her thin-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. The lines on her face spoke of years of hard labor, and her calloused hands clenched into fists as she came to a halt inches from Ziraya.

  Two pairs of furious eyes met.

  The air in the room thickened.

  John didn’t so much as breathe. He had the distinct feeling that one wrong move would turn this place into a battlefield.

  Sarah didn’t look away from Ziraya as she spoke, her voice dripping with disdain. “Who’s this scaly broad?” She turned her glare toward one of her employees, a blond dwarf who suddenly looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. “Better not be one of your exes again,” she snapped, raising a threatening hand. “Swear to the depths, if this is another one—”

  “N-Never seen her before, I swear!” the blond stammered, clearly desperate to distance himself from whatever hell was about to unfold. “It only happened twice!” he muttered under his breath, though the way Sarah’s glare sharpened made him quickly pretend to be very, very busy with his work.

  Satisfied, Sarah returned her glare to Ziraya. “Right then. Who the hell are you?”

  The factory trembled ever so slightly beneath their feet. A low, steady rumbling—not from the machinery, but from the earth itself. Ziraya responded in kind. A surge of golden mana curled around her like a living thing, the air warping into jagged, near-invisible spears primed to strike.

  John swallowed.

  “I asked you a question!” Sarah barked, pointing a firm finger at the dragon-blooded woman.

  Ziraya scoffed. “I am Ziraya Scalebound, heir to the Scalebound Enforcer family.” She tilted her chin, exuding the entitled authority of someone who expected the world to kneel at her feet. “I demand to see Sarah this instant.”

  Sarah’s lips twitched upward in a smirk. “Never heard of you.”

  That visibly irked Ziraya. Her tail lashed against the ground in irritation, but Sarah didn’t give her the satisfaction of reacting.

  “What would a damn Enforcer want with me?” Sarah continued, her voice dry. “Paid all my taxes on time. Don’t you lot have anything better to do?”

  John, sensing the tension escalating way too fast, raised his hands in an attempt at damage control. “It’s… uh, ‘witchy’ business.” He forced a sheepish smile.

  Both women immediately turned their glares on him. Sarah studied him for a beat before stepping back, crossing her arms with an amused snort. “I see,” she said, the rumbling earth settling beneath them. “Not a lot of people call me Sarah these days.” Her smirk widened. “And why should I help you? You barged into my factory, threw your weight around, and threatened me. Should have you tossed right back out.”

  Ziraya waved a dismissive hand. “I have Credits.”

  Sarah spat onto the floor. “Don’t need your damn money.”

  Ziraya visibly bristled at that, her tail slapping the ground harder this time. “I demand that you remove this curse before—”

  Sarah’s entire demeanor shifted. The sharp amusement in her eyes vanished, replaced by something far more calculating. Her head tilted slightly as she reevaluated Ziraya, gaze flicking over her like she was analyzing a specimen in a lab. “Curse?” she repeated, her voice suddenly far more interested. “You’ve been cursed?” She took a step closer, her previous irritation vanishing beneath pure curiosity. “How? What happened? What are the symptoms?”

  Ziraya’s eyes narrowed. “I think it’s better if we discuss this somewhere private,” John interjected, sending a pointed glance toward the workers, who all very quickly pretended to be busy.

  Sarah exhaled through her nose. “Fine. Follow me. And try not to break any more doors.”

  Ziraya huffed at the barely hidden jab but followed her inside. The so-called "office" was more workshop than anything else. Blackboards covered in esoteric diagrams littered the room. Ancient scrolls were stacked on cluttered desks, competing for space with partially dismantled contraptions of unknown purpose. The air smelled of aged parchment and old magic, a thick, musty scent that clung like a second skin. Sarah seated herself in an ornate chair, fingers steepled as she fixed her gaze on them. “So,” she said, “tell me about this curse of yours.”

  “It doesn’t matter—just fix it, now.” Ziraya’s patience snapped, and she slammed her palm onto the desk.

  The force of it sent a ripple through the papers, but Sarah didn’t so much as flinch. Instead, she smirked. “Or what?”

  Ziraya’s canines flashed as she bared her teeth. “You dare—”

  “For fuck’s sake,” John groaned, stepping between them before Ziraya tried to maul the dwarf. “Listen, this thing—it’s a link between us. We’re aware of each other at all times. If we look each other in the eyes, it gets worse—we space out, and it feels like…” He frowned. “Like something is pulling at us.”

  Sarah tapped her chin, interest glistening in her eyes. “Huh. Doesn’t sound like Coercion, so that excludes the fae. You’re still speaking clearly and not drenched in your own piss so it’s not mind control.” Her brow furrowed. “How did it happen? Touch something? Ancient ruins?”

  Ziraya exhaled sharply. “It befell us when we crossed paths at the Bazaar.”

  Sarah’s expression turned positively ravenous with curiosity. “Just like that? Instantaneously?”

  John nodded.

  “Interesting…” Sarah leaned back, eyes gleaming. “Still. Why should I waste my time on this? What do I get out of it?”

  Ziraya’s hands twitched, golden mana coiling in frustration. Her ego demanded this arrogant witch be put in her place.

  “…Name your price,” she finally bit out.

  “Really?” Sarah arched an eyebrow, her voice dripping with amusement. “You sure about that? You sound awfully desperate for an Enforcer.”

  “Don’t push your luck, dwarf.” Ziraya’s voice was low and venomous, her amber eyes narrowing like a predator sizing up its prey. “My patience has limits, and it’s wearing thinner by the second.”

  Sarah let out an exaggerated gasp. “How terrifying! What are you going to do, pout at me?” She chuckled, utterly unimpressed.

  John, sensing that Ziraya was about five seconds away from snapping, cut in with a knowing smile. “You already have something in mind, don’t you?”

  Sarah clapped her hands together, her grin widening. “Now that’s a man with a brain! Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.”

  Ziraya shot John a glare sharp enough to flay skin from bone. “Who said you could speak for me? Know your place.” Her fists clenched, golden mana coiling around her fingers like burning tendrils.

  “Fuck off, princess.” John raised a middle finger without even looking at her. “I’m trying to fix this damn problem.”

  Sarah stifled a laugh and waved her hand dismissively. “Alright, alright. Since we’re about to work together, I suppose proper introductions are in order. My name’s Sarah, but around here, I go by Thalva. A good dwarven name carries weight in Duskveil, and I know how to play the game.” She leaned back against her desk, arms crossed. “Now, I don’t like to brag—”

  Ziraya snorted.

  “—but I’m the best expert on the occult you’ll find in the Five Worlds.” Sarah’s smirk never wavered, even as Ziraya rolled her eyes.

  “How modest,” Ziraya muttered, tail flicking behind her like an irritated cat. “A lot of ego for such a small woman.”

  Sarah ignored the jab. “You’re familiar with my theory about what’s hidden beneath the Ebonreach Ocean?”

  Ziraya’s patience finally snapped. “What does that have to do with anything?! Get to the point before I—”

  “I can already tell why you want this curse gone,” Sarah said to John with a knowing smirk before turning back to the fuming Enforcer. “Anyway, I need to confirm my theory, so—”

  Ziraya scoffed. “You expect us to dive into an ocean of acid? Have those rituals of yours fried your brain? We’re wasting our time,” she continued, turning away.

  “Wait!” John’s voice cut through the air, sharper than usual. “Listen, I don’t know if curses are even real—”

  “They are,” Sarah said flatly.

  “—but what other choice do we have?” John turned to Ziraya, meeting her gaze for the briefest of moments.

  And then the world… stopped.

  The factory, Sarah, the distant hum of machinery—everything blurred into the background. A heavy, suffocating weight settled in John’s chest, something pulling at him, unraveling his very being. It wasn’t just his breath that caught—it was his soul. His hand moved on its own, reaching for Ziraya, the pull between them impossible to resist. And she—she did the same. Her clawed fingers, trembling slightly, stretched toward him.

  Then—impact.

  Sarah tackled Ziraya to the ground.

  The dragon-blooded let out a high-pitched, undignified yelp as she crashed onto her back, the air forced from her lungs. “L-Let go of me this instant, you barbarian!” she shrieked, flailing wildly as her cheeks burned red with embarrassment.

  Sarah sat on her stomach, smirking like a cat that had just caught a bird. “Oh, I don’t think so. I saw that.”

  John staggered backward, gasping as the invisible force released its grip. “What the fuck was that?” His legs felt like jelly, and he had to brace himself against the desk.

  Sarah rolled off Ziraya and dusted off her coat. “You two just froze for the last ten minutes.”

  John blinked. “That’s impossible. It felt like a few seconds.”

  “Yeah, well, I tried poking you both. No response. Then you started reaching for each other, and I figured that wasn’t going anywhere good, so I ended it.”

  Ziraya sat up, still fuming, her tail thudding angrily against the floor. “Do not lie to me, dwarf.”

  Sarah smirked. “I know what I saw.” She crossed her arms. “It was kinda fun kicking you both to see if you’d react, but when you almost touched—well, I wasn’t about to let that happen.”

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  John swallowed hard and turned to Ziraya. “What would have happened if we had?”

  Ziraya’s hand, still shaking, pressed lightly against her chest. “I don’t know.”

  Sarah tapped her chin. “I first thought it was some strange, novel Coercion-like magic, but that usually has a clear intent behind it. This? This is different.” She examined them both like a scientist staring at a particularly fascinating lab rat. “Either you two are so madly in love it’s screwing with your heads—”

  “Do not test me.” Ziraya’s voice was dangerously low.

  “—or you’re cursed.” Sarah grinned. “Either way, we won’t know for sure until I check. But before that—”

  John groaned. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, just get to the point already.”

  “Young people these days, no patience,” Sarah sighed, shaking her head. “Alright, fine. I need a team to help me with my expedition. I need people willing to go to the depths of the Ebonreach Ocean.”

  John gave her a flat look. “You really are expecting us to swim in an acid ocean, aren’t you?”

  Sarah huffed in offense. “I’m not insane! No, no—this will be much safer. Actually, it’ll be easier to show you.” She gestured toward the door. “Come on, I’ll explain on the way.”

  John hesitated for only a second before following. Ziraya trailed behind, fists clenched, her tail twitching violently. If she had to spend another second listening to this woman’s smug voice, she might actually explode. But that thing that happened—that unnatural pull—was more than enough to keep her from storming off.

  The wooden planks of the secondary pontoon groaned beneath their boots as Sarah led them toward the large, windowless building John had spotted earlier. A faint shimmer rippled across its surface—Glamour magic, masking something inside. The moment they stepped closer, John gagged, recoiling as the sharp stench of sulfur and decay assaulted his senses. The ocean churned just beyond the platform, its ink-black waves roiling like a living thing, spewing clouds of acrid mist. Even Ziraya, usually composed despite her sharp tongue, wrinkled her nose in disgust. She shot Sarah a glare that could have burned through steel. “You brought us here for this?”

  Sarah ignored her and unlatched the heavy warded doors. A low thrum pulsed through the air as the enchantments disengaged. Then, with a casual push, she swung them open. John wasn’t sure what he had expected. Crates of alchemical gear, a repository of ancient scrolls—maybe some bubbling cauldron straight out of an old sorcerer’s tale.

  What he saw instead stole his breath.

  Suspended from thick, rune-etched chains was a massive sphere of opaque black glass, gleaming like polished obsidian. It hung above a gaping hole in the floor, which led directly into the seething ocean below. John’s pulse quickened. The thing was enormous, easily large enough to fit three people. A reinforced hatch stood open on one side, revealing a narrow interior, while an equally glass-made propeller extended from the back like the stinger of some deep-sea predator. “A submarine?” John murmured, eyes darting over its sleek but alien design.

  Sarah clapped her hands together. “Exactly! Didn’t expect you to recognize cutting-edge research.”

  Ziraya crossed her arms and scoffed. “What’s a ‘submarine’?”

  John exhaled slowly. “Chase was right, the Hidden World is surprisingly backwards.” He whispered.

  Sarah, grinning like a teacher indulging a slow student, began pacing. “It’s a vessel that travels underwater.”

  Ziraya blinked. “So it sinks.”

  “It’s designed to sink—and resurface.”

  “That’s the same thing.” Ziraya deadpanned.

  John smirked, but Sarah only adjusted her glasses with a triumphant glint in her eye. “Would you rather drown, or explore the ocean’s depths without being crushed into a bloody pulp?”

  The dragon-blooded woman’s tail flicked. “…Crushed?”

  “The deeper you go, the heavier the ocean becomes. If someone with water or gravity magic tried diving past a certain point, the pressure alone would turn them into paste.”

  Ziraya frowned, mulling over the explanation. Her amber eyes flickered to the submarine. “And you think this will survive what flesh and magic can’t?”

  Sarah beamed, stepping forward and slapping the glass hull. The impact rang out like a deep chime, its resonance unnatural. “This isn’t ordinary glass. It’s something I engineered—acid-resistant, pressure-proof, and as strong as iron.”

  John raised an eyebrow. “And yet, it still sounds like glass.”

  Sarah cleared her throat. “Minor detail.”

  “This is insane,” Ziraya muttered, turning on her heel. “I’m not getting in that death trap.”

  “I am,” John said, cutting her off before she could take a step.

  Ziraya froze. Slowly, she turned, her expression unreadable.

  “If this is what it takes to break the curse,” he continued, clenching his fists as he flicked his eyes to his Improbability Factor counter. It ticked up idly, as if mocking him. “I probably can afford a few stupid decisions, right?” he whispered with a humorless smile.

  The dragon-blooded exhaled sharply, her nostrils flaring. “You’re insane.”

  “Feel free to wait here, then.”

  She bared her fangs. “And if you die? What happens to me?”

  John shrugged. “Maybe you’ll be freed. Maybe not.”

  “I refuse to put my fate in your hands!” she snapped, tail lashing like an agitated serpent.

  John snapped. “Then stop acting like a petulant child and start helping!”

  Ziraya growled. Mana coiled around her like mist before a storm, the air thickening with static. “Know your place—” Before either could act, a crushing force slammed into their chests. John’s breath was ripped away. His knees buckled, his body hitting the floor with a dull thud. The weight on his lungs was unbearable, like an invisible hand squeezing the life from him. His vision blurred, his limbs weak and unresponsive. Ziraya was in the same state, her claws scraping the floor as she gasped for air.

  Then—just as suddenly as it came—the pressure vanished.

  John choked, his lungs burning as he clawed his way upright. “W-What the hell was that?”

  Ziraya punched the ground hard enough to send splinters flying. She let out an enraged roar, her voice raw with frustration. “I’M SICK OF THIS!”

  Sarah adjusted her glasses, watching them like they were specimens under a magnifying glass. “Fascinating… I wasn’t expecting such a volatile reaction to proximity.”

  The dragon-blooded whipped toward her. “Witch.” Her voice was deathly quiet, trembling with rage. “Take us into your death trap. Now.”

  Sarah hesitated, then smiled awkwardly. “Right. No delays, then.”

  Ziraya didn’t wait. She stormed up the ramp and disappeared inside the submarine. John let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair before following. The interior was compact but well-designed—three leather seats arranged in a circle, each facing outward. Small panels filled with levers, switches, and runes lined the walls. Ziraya was already strapped in, fingers tracing the controls with narrowed eyes, as if daring Sarah to prove this machine wasn’t a death sentence. Sarah climbed in next, muttering under her breath. “Guess we’re doing this with zero preparation…” She glanced at John. “By the way—I never got your name.”

  John sighed, settling into his seat. “Didn’t think you cared.”

  Sarah grinned. “I like to know who I’m potentially dying with.”

  “I’m Jo—Thomas,” he corrected himself at the last second. “Thomas Greenheart.”

  Ziraya’s sharp gaze locked onto him. Her pupils constricted. “That’s not your name,” she hissed.

  John stiffened. His pulse thundered in his ears. He forced himself to meet her stare, his fingers flexing against his seat’s armrests. “How can you be so sure?”

  The dragon-blooded woman’s breath hitched. “I—” She faltered, gripping the controls as if they might anchor her to something solid. The thought was foreign, alien. Yet it was here, burned into her soul like a red hot brand. Then her expression twisted into something cruel, an opening too good to pass up. Her lips curled. “His name is John. John Thomson.”

  The words slid from her mouth like a blade drawn from its sheath.

  John froze.

  Ziraya smirked, watching the realization dawn on him, watching the tension coil through his frame as he swallowed hard. His fingers twitched toward his weapon before he stopped himself, exhaling shakily.

  He squeezed his eyes shut for half a second. “I can’t be like this. Can’t let myself become someone like this.”

  His real name was out now. He could only pray it wouldn’t travel far. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t reach the Wolfheart family.” His jaw clenched.

  Sarah, oblivious to the silent war between them, continued as if nothing had happened. “Alright, John—you’ll be controlling the extendable arm.” She tapped a dial near his seat. “Turn this to deploy or retract, use the joystick to move it around, and this lever here controls the claw. Be careful—it’s delicate work.”

  John exhaled slowly, forcing himself to focus. “Got it.”

  Ziraya tilted her head, acting as if she hadn’t just shattered his alias. “And what do I get?”

  “You’ll be handling the turret.”

  Ziraya raised a brow. “Turret?”

  “It’s an automated spell caster—nothing fancy, just a high-pressure water jet mounted on a swivel,” Sarah explained, casually cracking her knuckles. “And I’ll be piloting.”

  Ziraya scoffed but said nothing. The playful glint in her eye had dulled, replaced by something stormier. She didn’t understand what had just happened—why she knew something she had no way of knowing. But rather than show her unease, she smirked again. “If something unsettles me, might as well use it to make his life harder.”

  John could feel her satisfaction radiating off her. It took everything in him not to snap. He could call her out—demand she explain how she knew his name—but what good would that do? He let out a slow breath. “It will have to come out eventually.”

  For now, he’d let it slide.

  Ziraya tapped her fingers against the controls, her usual arrogance slipping just slightly. She stole a glance at the hatch as it sealed shut with a final, metallic clunk. The sound sent a prickle of unease down her spine. No turning back now.

  “Everything’s fine on my end,” John said, voice steady despite the storm in his head.

  Sarah gave a sharp nod. “Right, so—here we go.”

  With a grin that was far too mischievous for the situation, she yanked a long lever. The chains above them snapped free. The submarine plummeted. Ziraya’s stomach lurched into her throat as the heavy sphere slammed into the syrupy, ink-black ocean below, the impact rattling through the vessel like a thunderclap. A deafening splash echoed through the reinforced hull, followed by the gut-wrenching sensation of floating. John was shoved back into his seat, gritting his teeth against the shockwave that rattled his bones.

  Sarah, grinning ear to ear, adjusted her controls like she had done this a thousand times. “We’re floating!” she announced, as if they hadn’t nearly shattered their spines on impact.

  Ziraya’s tail slammed against the floor with a sharp thud. “I hate you,” she muttered under her breath, digging her claws into her armrests.

  Sarah ignored her, flipping a series of switches. “Alright, now for the real part.” A deep, mechanical hiss filled the cabin as tiny slots in the submarine’s underbelly opened. Cold water flooded the ballasts. “We’re going down,” Sarah whispered, voice tinged with excitement. Ziraya clenched the controls tighter as the external cameras flickered to life. The surface of the ocean, a distorted window of light, began to slip away above them.

  Then—darkness.

  Sarah flipped another switch. “Turning on the lights.” A low hum vibrated through the submarine as beams of pale blue light cut through the abyss. The water was thick, almost oily, swirling with unseen currents. Beyond the glow, there was nothing but blackness stretching infinitely in all directions.

  “We don’t see much,” Ziraya muttered, voice tight.

  The deep pressed against them, as if the weight of the entire ocean had its eyes on them.

  Her grip tightened.

  “Everything is going to be fine,” she whispered, mostly to herself. Her claws trembled slightly against the controls.

  Sarah hummed, keeping an eye on the depth gauge. The numbers ticked downward. “It’ll be more useful when we reach the bottom.”

  “If we reach the bottom,” John muttered, watching the numbers drop.

  “According to my calculations, this vessel should be rated for about ten thousand feet.”

  John shot her a sharp look. “Ten thousand feet?” His stomach twisted at the thought. “We’re sinking ten thousand feet into extremely acidic water, protected only by a glass ball—” He let out a hollow chuckle. “Not how I imagined spending my evening.”

  Ziraya exhaled shakily, keeping her gaze locked on the swirling abyss outside.

  Ten thousand feet.

  Down into the dark.

  The submersible creaked under the immense pressure of the abyss, the weight of the ocean pressing down on them like an unseen force. The dim blue glow of their external lights barely pierced the ink-black void, illuminating only swirling currents of silt and drifting fragments of debris. John exhaled slowly, staring at the darkness beyond the reinforced glass. “What exactly are we looking for?” he asked, his voice breaking the uneasy silence. “At this depth, in this kind of environment—I doubt anything could survive.”

  Sarah barely glanced at him, her fingers flying over the controls. “My investors were convinced that there would be salvageable artifacts down here.”

  John raised a brow. “Investors? Who would be insane enough to put money into something like this?”

  Ziraya scoffed, flicking her tail against the floor. “What a waste of Credits.”

  Sarah’s lips curled into an amused smirk. “I know you won’t believe me, but—” she hesitated, then leaned back with a knowing look. “It was a group of imps.”

  “Imps?” John echoed, blinking.

  “I know how it sounds,” Sarah said, holding up a hand. “But they were the real deal. Horns, fire-red skin, all of it. I saw them with my own two eyes.”

  Ziraya snorted, arms crossed. “Imps aren’t real. Probably a bunch of fae using illusions, messing with you for fun.”

  Sarah’s expression darkened. “They invested close to two million Credits into this project.”

  The number landed like a hammer.

  John let out a low whistle. “Two million?”

  Even Ziraya’s smirk faltered, but she quickly recovered with a dismissive huff. Sarah tapped a button, adjusting the sub’s descent. “Building this vessel wasn’t cheap. Developing the glass alone took two years of research and half the budget. The rest went into the sub itself. I even put in a substantial amount of my own capital.” A proud glint entered her eyes. “Still, it was worth it.”

  John frowned. “When you say imps… you mean like, the demons?”

  Sarah shrugged. “Depends on who you ask.”

  “Demons aren’t real,” Ziraya cut in, rolling her eyes. “They’re just stories to scare children.”

  Sarah’s hands tightened around the controls. “I know what I saw.” Her voice carried an edge now, a sharp certainty that made even Ziraya pause. “Some say they are demons,” Sarah continued, “but others think they’re the mutated descendants of a failed fae expedition into Duskveil from a long time ago—before interdimensional travel became routine. Some even believe their origins predate the Enforcer system itself.” She turned slightly, her gaze flicking between them. “But here’s the thing—they don’t know where they come from. And they believe there’s something down here that can give them answers.”

  John narrowed his eyes. “How can they be so sure?”

  Sarah’s expression softened slightly. “Because there are only about fifty of them left.”

  Silence.

  “They told me themselves,” she said, her voice quieter now. “They’re dying out. Whatever answers they’re searching for, it’s probably the last chance they’ll ever get.”

  John exhaled, rubbing his jaw. “And what if they are demons?”

  Sarah’s face lit up with excitement, her earlier intensity replaced with a gleam of scientific curiosity. “Then that would open an entirely new field of study! It would mean the existence of an unknown dimension, another world entirely separate from the Five.”

  John gave her a flat look. “You say that like it’s a good thing. If demons are real, that’s… bad.”

  “A demonic invasion is the last thing we need,” Ziraya muttered.

  Sarah waved them off. “Why would they invade? And opening a portal isn’t as easy as you think. The connections between the Five Worlds are mapped and maintained with massive resources. It’s not something that can be done by just fifty people.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “But I do think they’re from another Bubble.”

  Ziraya scoffed. “Inter-Bubble travel is impossible.”

  Sarah’s eyes gleamed. “Has it been proven impossible?”

  Ziraya stiffened. Sarah leaned forward, pressing her advantage. “Bubble incompatibility is a theory. And history is unreliable. We have no recent data aside from contact records from the Bazaar after the initial discovery of their portal network. Even then, our own experiments were flawed and could have missed something crucial.”

  “That doesn’t mean the data doesn’t exist,” Ziraya shot back.

  Sarah folded her arms. “We just assume the records are true. But if they aren’t? If something’s missing?”

  John sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “So, let me get this straight. You’re diving into the most hostile depths imaginable, based on the word of a dying species that might be demons from another dimension?”

  Sarah grinned. “Sounds exciting, doesn’t it?”

  John groaned. Ziraya just clicked her tongue. “What exactly do you expect to find down here, anyway? Documents would be long gone. A city?”

  Sarah shook her head. “More like remnants—pieces of structures, tools, artifacts. Proof that something was here.”

  John sighed. “So we’re searching for a needle in a haystack.”

  Then—His breath caught. The words died in his throat as his jaw nearly hit the floor. Silence crashed over the submarine.

  On every screen, the same impossible image rendered in grainy, glowing outlines. Sarah’s hands trembled over the controls. “What is that?” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. Her eyes widened, heart hammering against her ribs. “T-That shouldn’t be possible.”