Hail to the passive skill, Thalion thought with a crooked grin as he watched the puzzled expressions of the mages across the battlefield. His eyes finally landed on Sylas, who summoned a fireball, inspected its unusual color, extinguished it, then conjured it again only to stare in disbelief at the glowing orb in his hand. The elves had gone so far as to forbid the use of fire magic entirely, believing it to be the work of the vampiress manipulating the flame. It was amusing how wrong they were. Telling them the truth might have been fun, but that was clearly out of the question.

The undead’s defense was laughably weak. They failed to injure even one of Thalion’s fighters or the elven warriors. Kael, however, lost five soldiers, which drew every vampire archer on the wall to focus their aim on his camp. Thalion wasn’t interested in letting more people die needlessly. He surged forward, using a telekinetic dash. Only two vampires managed to spot him, but their blood spells fizzled out as Thalion simply took control of the blood and fed it into the Crimson Virethorn.

The blade drank in the power like a starving beast. With a silent breath, he channeled the energy into the blood-templar’s sword and drove it into a visible fracture in the red barrier. A loud, cracking noise echoed across the field as the shield splintered around the sword’s edge. Thalion pressed forward and forced his shoulder into the crack, slipping inside just before the shield sealed shut behind him. He didn’t care. The vampiress wasn’t here. This base wasn’t meant to stop them. It was a stalling tactic.

With a fluid leap, he scaled the wall and descended upon the startled vampires. Five fell to a single sweep of his glowing red slash. The others panicked and launched their attacks, but their blood magic failed to land. Thalion dodged with ease or bent the spells away from him. No one here carried a weapon like the bloodbow he had claimed from a powerful vampire back in the fourth stage. He didn’t bother pressing the attack. He remained on the wall, spinning his sword in sweeping arcs and ducking past attacks rather than controlling them.

He wasn’t here to kill. He wanted to distract and show off. This was a performance, one staged for Kael’s camp watching from outside. As long as he held the vampires’ attention, the others could tear down the barrier faster. Soon, only a few enemies still dared fire at the archers and mages behind him. Under the increasing pressure, the shield collapsed completely in a shower of crimson sparks.

The base was quickly overrun. Thalion continued to spar with the vampires, this time drawing out the fight and letting them live longer than he needed to. He hoped his restrained strength made him appear weaker, like an inviting target for Kael or the female elf. At the moment, he used no more than twenty percent of his full power, but it was still more than enough to hold the wall alone. When the barrier fell, the living swarmed into the base. Most of the undead didn’t even resist. They ran straight for the entrance of the catacombs below.

The battle above was over within minutes. With the base cleared, each faction took up positions, wary and watchful of one another. The elves stationed themselves on one side, Kael’s group in the center, and Thalion’s team on the far end with Kargul, Evelyn, Jack, and Josh. Everyone was streaked with undead blood, except for Thalion. His armor remained spotless, the Crimson Virethorn absorbing every drop of blood that touched the ground around him.

He made a note to inscribe the red runes from the bloodbow onto his armor. It would amplify his blood-based abilities even more. The undead base itself was simple in structure, just two concentric walls surrounding a gate with three towers. In the center stood ruined buildings, most of which had been obliterated by friendly fire during the siege. What concerned Thalion most wasn’t what they had fought. It was how little resistance there had been.

Why had the undead stationed so few defenders? Why not regroup and retreat as one? That strategy would have prolonged the battle and caused more casualties. The only logical conclusion was that whatever they were protecting down below was far more important than anything above ground. And judging by the hesitation now hanging over the camp, the other factions had reached the same conclusion.

The mouth of the catacomb yawned in the center of the courtyard. From the entrance, they could see the main corridor stretch out before splitting into five separate tunnels about fifty meters in. Slowly, the elite teams formed. Thalion stood with Jack, Josh, Kargul, and Evelyn. Vorlok remained at the surface. The sky turtle was powerful, but its size made underground combat nearly impossible.

Kael’s group was the largest. Alongside Sylas and Kai were ten more fighters Thalion had never seen before. One absence surprised him. Jakob was missing. Did Kael no longer trust him? The broad-shouldered elf and the female elf led the first elven team, a balanced mix of warriors and spellcasters.

Thalion noticed one last key difference. The other groups brought multiple healers with them. His own group would rely only on Evelyn. The rest of the healers were staying behind. That fact said more than anyone was willing to admit. What lay beneath was more than dangerous.

With a single nod, everyone began their descent into the catacombs. The first section of the path forced all groups to travel together, and Thalion’s party hugged the far left wall. The elves walked in formation along the right side, while Kael and his elite warriors claimed the center with silent confidence. Behind them, more teams followed at measured intervals. These secondary groups had a clear purpose — to maintain the connection between teams and offer reinforcements if the frontlines faced heavy resistance.

As the path gradually split into multiple corridors, the three factions parted ways. Thalion turned left, the elves drifted to the right, and Kael continued through the central tunnel. Two of the remaining corridors stayed untouched for now, to be explored only if another path ended in failure. Everything so far had gone as planned. Thalion advanced with brisk steps, the weight of urgency pressing on him. Time was slipping away, and the threat of Ankhet’s resurrection loomed closer with every heartbeat.

It wasn’t long before the first major chamber came into view. The corridor remained wide — more than fifty meters across — and while that allowed a small team to hold off an assault, the atmosphere shifted as they neared the next space. Something felt wrong. From Thalion’s current angle, he saw no floor in the chamber ahead. A sense of unease prickled at the edge of his mind. With every step closer to the towering gate-like entrance, the sensation grew sharper. Thalion lifted his hand, signaling the others to halt.

“Ah, damn. The tokens don’t work down here,” Evelyn muttered behind him. She had likely tried to contact Maike or one of the scouts trailing them, but Thalion paid it little mind as he stepped forward alone.

His senses stretched outward as he used his title and blood affinity. He moved carefully, almost reverently, as if the darkness might shatter underfoot. The presence of danger was thick, clinging to the air like unseen smoke. It took far longer than he liked, but eventually he reached the threshold and peered into the vast chamber beyond.

What he saw left him momentarily speechless. Just past the gate, the ground fell away completely. A drop of over sixty meters opened beneath him, ending in the fractured remains of multiple floors. The stone was shattered, and gaping holes riddled the structure from top to bottom. At the very base, hundreds of meters below, a still sheet of dark water reflected the flickering torchlight behind him.

Saltwater.

Some of the lower levels were partially submerged or obscured by mist and rubble. Thalion could not see the bottom clearly, but the message was clear enough. Moving deeper through this space would be a difficult, perhaps dangerous task.

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“And? What do you see? Anything to smash?” Kargul’s voice echoed from the tunnel behind.

“Let me check first. From the looks of it, we may have to turn back,” Thalion replied, still scanning for the source of his unease. Something dangerous was here, watching. The feeling was too precise to be wrong. He couldn’t spot the source from above, so he dropped down to the next fractured level, landing softly on a flat slab of stone.

The moment his feet touched down, a sudden spike in his instincts screamed at him. He twisted sideways in an instant, narrowly avoiding a sharp jet of water that exploded against the wall behind him. He hit the ground in a roll, came up on one knee, and the Sword of the Blooded Templar flashed into his hand.

Without hesitation, he descended further, scanning the broken stone and watery depths below. The attacker had to be one level beneath him. Judging from the angle of the strike and the pulsing intent he now felt.

His eyes finally caught movement — something swift and sinuous. As the figure came into view, Thalion’s confusion deepened.

It was humanoid, but clearly not of the surface world.

Its skin was a deep, scaled blue, slick and iridescent like that of a fish. Long strands of dark green hair flowed down its back, and several thick, twitching tentacles sprouted from its shoulders. Its fingers ended in small claws, webbed between each digit. Gills pulsed visibly along its neck, and its golden, reptilian eyes blinked sideways.

Voryxian Deepborn Level 90

Level ninety. Impressive, but not entirely unexpected among those chosen to defend the pillars. Still, the thought was unfair. The stoneborn had received no environmental advantage in their encounter, yet these aquatic beings had an entire battlefield rigged in their favor.

The Deepborn’s gaze met Thalion’s, and its thin lips curled into a grin that exposed rows of sharp, crimson-stained teeth. The resemblance to a shark was uncanny.

“Whoa, whoa, wait. I’m on your side. Look,” Thalion said quickly, raising one hand. The creature conjured another water spear in its grip, its eyes narrowing.

Thinking fast, Thalion summoned a blood orb in his free hand. He hoped the fishman might mistake him for one of the vampires. To add weight to the illusion, he released a pulse of killing intent from the Crimson Virethorn. The air thickened around him as the plant responded.

Now he just had to wait and see whether deception or violence would win the day.

The fishman had looked so smug and full of himself that Thalion couldn’t resist. He had dealt with enough arrogant enemies to know that their overconfidence usually masked fragile egos and weaker wills. They broke easily under pressure. And if this one held any useful information, it could give Thalion the edge they needed in this strange, shifting battle below the catacombs.

"What are you, stupid? Why are you coming this way? Haven’t we told you idiotic undead that this is our terri—"

The creature’s voice cut off with a sharp scream. Thalion had already fired a crimson thorn into the fishman's leg. It embedded itself instantly and began to grow, writhing and burrowing through muscle and bone like a living parasite. From this close, there was no escaping it. The only way out would have been to amputate the leg—but that chance had passed. The vine had already spread too far.

Thalion had no intention of killing him yet. Judging by the lack of reinforcements, the Deepborn had likely been stationed here alone, meant only to watch the entrance and warn others farther down. Perhaps the undead believed no one would dare dive this deep. Whatever the reason, it was a mistake Thalion was eager to exploit. The fishman would talk, and Thalion would learn everything he could.

--

"Hey, Eve, do you think this is going to take much longer?" Kargul asked, arms crossed as he leaned against a broken pillar.

They had been standing at the threshold of the underwater ruin for what felt like ages. The echoes of the chamber carried sound unnaturally well. Every few minutes, a fresh scream or a pitiful whimper floated up from below, bouncing off the stone walls like some grim music. Sometimes it was a high, keening cry. Other times it was a string of hoarse, pleading words. None of it was easy to hear.

"I don’t know," Evelyn replied, exhaling through her nose as she sat back down on a chunk of debris. "But if he pulls real information from that fish-thing, it could save a lot of lifes."

"Jo, could you shut up already? You’re making it worse," she snapped, turning to glare at Jack.

Jack had been singing along with the screams, his tone melodramatic as he headbanged in time with the suffering.

"Oh whaahaah... oh oh... drowning deep in the sea of long broken..."

"Jack. Seriously." Josh reached over and gave him a solid smack on the head, though he grinned while doing it.

"It fit so well," Jack muttered, rubbing the spot with mock offense.

"I really hope we don’t have to follow that path," Jack muttered. "My squid form isn’t exactly ideal for tight tunnels."

"We’ll find out soon enough," Josh said. "He can’t keep at it much longer, can he?"

By now the sounds from below had turned to whispered conversations. The words were too low to make out, and no one wanted to climb down and check. It wasn’t fear that held them back. No one feared Thalion. But no one wanted to witness what was happening either. These were the ugly truths of war. If it bought them a clearer path forward, it would all be worth it.

"I think he’s done now," Kargul said.

A sharp, bone-snapping sound echoed up from the depths. It was followed by silence. A moment later, a red mist spiraled upward from the floor below, coalescing into Thalion’s form as he stepped through the air like it was solid stone.

"I’ve got news," he said, his tone dark. "Are you ready?"

His expression told them enough. It had taken longer than expected to extract the answers he needed. He hadn’t enjoyed it, but it had been necessary. And the results were worth it.

He now had a mental map of the catacomb’s layout, a rough but helpful outline that shifted the balance in their favor. Of the five corridors they had discovered, only two led directly to the pillar. The other three were completely submerged. The correct paths were swarming with undead beasts, thousands of them. Worse still, the enemy was preparing a ritual—likely the same kind that had been used at the attack on Thalion’s base.

The confined tunnels would amplify the danger. Trapped in those tight, winding spaces, the sheer number of enemies would become a lethal wall of flesh and bone. According to the scout, only two true leaders held command over the undead force: a vampiress of immense power and an undead elf. Both were said to be terrifying, strategic, and merciless.

There were others in the mix—a vampire clad in black armor, Cathrin the blood witch, and a red orc Thalion vaguely remembered—but none of them had real influence. That was not what interested Thalion the most.

What truly changed the game was this: the flooded corridors were not dead ends. They also led to the pillar. And the Deepborn who guarded them were so specialized in aquatic combat that no one even considered trying to pass through. Communication was cut off for everyone down there. The living. The undead. All of them.

That meant stealth was possible. If Thalion moved quietly enough, if he killed with precision, he could reach the pillar without ever being noticed. It was a risk, but one he was willing to take. Becoming the Tidecaller Serpent might just be the perfect way to slip beneath the chaos.

There was still time. Thalion had no plans to send his group into Kael’s corridor or the elves’ path. Let them think they were fighting through hordes of enemies. Let them wear themselves down. He and his allies would stay out of it, for now, claiming they were engaged in heavy resistance of their own.

By the time the others reached the pillar, they would be tired and drained. Maybe Thalion could get the pillar first with a well placed bomb.