73. The Life Aquatic with Serac Edin

Serac Edin's first impression of Pretjord—that middle child of the three Lowly Realms—was etched by the text that flashed through her consciousness.

[PRETJORD Realm Boon unlocked: SYNTHESIS]

[REVOLVER Spell unlocked]

[Chamber Two: HARVEST]

Then, her second impression was drowned out by the frigid water that flooded her airways.

As a hell bumpkin whose home Realm had been an arid wasteland for centuries, Serac was woefully unprepared, utterly ignorant of how she ought to behave when totally submerged in a liquid medium. Her first instinct was to cough out the water she'd swallowed, only for more water to rush in. Rookie mistake! The intense discomfort of suffocation, coupled with the realization that she was completely out of her depth, pushed her into full panic mode.

She shut her eyes, as if turning a blind eye to the calamity could save her from it. Then she kicked and flailed, grasping for anything solid to hold onto. What she found, in the end, was Zacko's hand, grabbing hold of hers with a firm, reassuring strength.

I'm saved! Relief flooded in place of water. I knew I could count on Zacko! He always comes through for—whoop!

Serac's body was suddenly caught by a tremendous pulling force, orders of magnitude stronger than what a NINEFOLD master could produce. All of her insides rocked and churned as the flimsy vessel that contained them shot through a watery medium at light speed. Through it all, Zacko held tight, and Serac, by some miracle, managed to hang on for dear life.

What fresh hell is this? Who knew the lowest part of Pretjord is a prison—a 'watery prison', that is! Yet no amount of Serac's deranged mockery of her predicament could mask its reality. And Pathsight made sure to let her know:

[Wayfarer Status Effect: HYPOXIA]

Eyes shut and senses numbed by the frigid cold, Serac was aware of only two things: Zacko's hand and a brand-new Pathsighted overlay that warned of her impending demise. A status gauge with a light-green hue had popped up. Instead of ticking up, this one plummeted downward, at a rate that perfectly mirrored Serac's need for breathable air.

But there was nothing to be done. Whatever force carried the Wayfarers now was undeniable—too strong even for Zacko to resist. Serac could only pray that its destination would be at least somewhat drier than this.

After some time, the pull transitioned abruptly into a push. It expelled the Wayfarers out of one watery medium, only to dump them in another. Serac felt herself (painfully) break through a tangible surface, as the top half of her tasted the sweet embrace of air. Dragless, free-moving, oxygenated air. She sucked greedily, acting on pure primal instinct. She thought she saw something move in Pathsight, but couldn't pay it any mind, preoccupied as she was with the immediate task of survival.

The presence of air, as well as the relief it provided, was short-lived. Serac felt herself pulled back into the water almost immediately. This time, however, she couldn't point the finger to some mysterious external force. No, she only had herself to blame. Or, more precisely, her dense body composition characteristic of Rakshasa biology, one decidedly incompatible with aquatic life. She was sinking, weighed down by her own onyx bones.

Help! She thought she'd screamed as she went right back to kicking and flailing. I can't swim! How could she? It wasn't like she'd had any practice. And that was assuming she was even physically capable of swimming. Gods, this is just awful! She would've fought a thousand Bone Lords if it meant she could do it on solid ground.

Somewhere amidst the desperate struggle, a voice shouted to be heard over a Rakshasa's undignified screams. It was Zacko, sounding considerably less calm than his usual self. Even though he was right beside her, Serac was too far gone to understand a single word he said.

Sinking. Drowning. Dying. She could feel the strength drain from her with every kick and every flail. She understood with a fraught sense of certainty that this was the end to her journey in Pretjord. And she hadn't even started! I just hope I don't have to do the whole Naraka thing all over again…

That was when the water 'shifted' again.

This latest movement felt different still from the sheer volume of the 'pull' or the heartless violence of the 'push'. Water was still water, but it now moved with delicacy, intricacy, and intent. A conscious, sentient mind now took hold of Serac's watery prison. And their palpable presence compelled her to open her eyes.

Only for a Ksana, but she saw them. A hooded, humanoid figure that lurked within the turbulence, holding a large, polelike object—a weapon?—in their hands. Only for a Ksana, but Serac's attention snapped onto the face hiding beneath the hood.

Skin of vivid pink, the likes of which should've been confined to an artist's imagination. Round, wide-set eyes that seemed a little too large for their frame. Somehow, these strange visual signals combined to stimulate the part of Serac's brain that recognized familiar faces.

Froggy?

The Ksana really did last for only a Ksana. Before Serac had any hope of making sense of what she saw, her world filled with sprays and bubbles. In nearly the same instant, her whole body was ejected out of the water and into the sky.

The relief of avoiding suffocation would've been tempered by the fear of falling to death instead, were it not for Serac being well past the point of caring. And even if she did care, she was too weakened to do anything about it.

[588!]

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The fall damage halved her Health, yet even that was a small price to pay in comparison to the pain. Winded, exhausted, and smarting everywhere (especially in her butt!), Serac remained perfectly still for a good minute.

Despite the pain, she relished the relative safety of her new situation. The ground beneath her was solid and firm (as her buttocks could well attest to!). With each unimpeded breath, she felt herlsef recover both in physical strength and mental acuity.

At some point, she'd reoriented herself enough to notice the other changes to her surroundings. For one thing, she wasn't alone. There was Zacko, of course, who even now let out a labored grunt as he pushed himself to a sitting position. But there were also other souls here. Many more.

Perhaps a hundred more, if Serac's eyes didn't deceive. As she gingerly picked herself up, she saw that she and Zacko were surrounded by a dense throng of bodies. Then, her eyes widened in shock and wonder as this latest avalanche of visual signals stimulated the part of her brain that processed the new, the unknown, and the undefined.

Of all souls in the vicinity, Serac and Zacko were the only ones drenched in water. Yet it was clear even for a hell bumpkin to see that these perfectly dry onlookers were far more suited to the aquatic life. Glistening scales, spiny fins, and diverse body types. Even the parts of their face that might've passed for hair or beards kept with a certain theme, made up of bristles, whiskers, and algae. These Pretjordian locals, to a one, exhibited anatomical features that marked them out as fish-people.

All this was made stranger by the fact the fish-people were all bipedal, standing upright on two very-much-separate feet. They were also clothed, and in a manner not drastically different from their neighbors one Realm below. Where Narakites wore tunics and robes stitched together from whatever rubbish they could get their hands on, these Pretjordians sported a similar fashion with much nicer material: dyed fabric, woven jute, and the like.

Granted, Serac should've been at least somewhat prepared, having already met Bea the deer-person back in the Wayside Lotus. Even so, the shock of seeing the Yakshas still proved substantial enough to render her mute, as she gawked slack-jawed at the throng of fish-people. Mute and also, as it turned out, a little deaf.

"—okay? Hello? Miss? Do you not understand what we're saying?"

"Huh?"

A firm hand grabbed Serac by the armpit and pulled her up. This gave her a little fright, until she realized it was just Zacko helping her to her feet. The Manusya himself, however, kept his gaze pointed to the large group of strangers, eyes narrowed in that slow-to-trust way of his. With Zacko standing to his full height, many in the crowd backed off a step. Serac couldn't blame them, considering these Yakshas, at least on average, appeared closer in size to her own compact self.

There were exceptions to the rule, however, and they stuck out like sore thumbs. Two fellows in particular—both of whom featured prominent, bony notches along the sides of their muscular necks—tipped the scale toward 'enormous', towering over even Zacko. They flanked another man who was no slouch himself—and whose rotund, corpulent figure reminded Serac somewhat of a Hellspawn Jailer. His face was also rather distinctive, with thick, mottled lips framed by impressive whiskers, which lent him an air of authority if not quite wisdom.

But the man that stood at the front of the crowd and spoke to the Wayfarers was much smaller—and therefore much less intimidating.

"Are you hurt at all?" Upon a second listen, the man sounded rather youthful, possibly younger than Serac, if she were to guess. His scaly, pale-yellow face lit up with an excitable smile as he continued, "What am I saying? You guys are Wayfarers, aren't you? Nothing can hurt you!"

Serac and Zacko exchanged a look. This of course wasn't the first time their Wayfaring status drew a positive reaction from strangers. But perhaps none before had greeted them with such exuberant admiration.

"I think we're alright," Serac found herself replying, though a little timidly by her standards, "and we'll be even better once we find a Waystation." She could, of course, set one down herself. But it also couldn't hurt to save the [Privilege] for a rainy day. So, she went on to ask, "Don't happen to know of one nearby, do you?"

"You're in luck!" the pale-yellow man enthused. "We're right next to a Hubstation. Come on, let me show you the way."

"Sounds good," Serac murmured absent-mindedly, even as she scanned the faces among the crowd, "but first, which one of you do we have to thank?"

"Thank? What do you mean?"

"One of you threw us out of the water, didn't you? Saved us from drowning. A pink-skinned… I wanna say woman? Is she here?"

At this, the young man's smile faltered. And if Serac weren't mistaken, the crowd took another collective step back, just as they broke out in animated whispers.

Serac and Zacko exchanged another look—hers with a slight frown and his with one eyebrow raised. Did I say something I shouldn't have? What's with the weird reaction?

"The Finless."

The whispers stopped on a dime, as all eyes turned in unison to the speaker. It was the large, whiskered man—he of the corpulent figure and thick, mottled lips. Judging from how the crowd reacted to his voice, Serac hadn't been far off about him being an 'authority' figure.

"Do you speak truly, Wayfarer?" The whiskered man now addressed Serac directly. "Did you really see the Finless lurking in these waters? And you claim it was she who saved you?"

"Well, I mean, I don't know her name, but… sure. I did see someone pink and maybe frog-like. Wait, am I allowed to say that? And yes, she saved me and Zacko, alright. I don't know how she did it, but she yeeted us good."

The whispers started up again in earnest. Or rather, the crowd grew so animated that they practically shouted over each other. Serac's frown only deepened, as she detected something distinctly akin to fear in the people's chatters.

Suddenly, the pale-yellow man broke out in laughter.

"What a silly guppy you are, Wayfarer!" he said in between his snickering. "Even if it were true that the Finless was here just now, why would she help anyone, let alone a pair of outrealmers?"

The young man's outburst was followed by a chorus of nervous laughter. This did little to smooth out Serac's frown, as she recognized the phenomenon for what it was. These people would rather laugh it off than believe that Lady Pink was here without them knowing.

From the corner of her eye, Serac saw the large, whiskered man nod to his even larger companions. The twin towers continued to stick out like sore thumbs as they turned and made themselves scarce. Serac didn't know anything about anything, yet the sight of this exchange gave her a strange sense of foreboding. And she might have even yelled out to stop the whiskered man… were it not for her own stomach, which chose this moment to rumble.

Serac froze, caught unawares by the utterly novel sensation. Anxious—perhaps even terrified—she looked to Zacko for reassurance, as she carefully placed a hand upon her tummy.

Her empty tummy, which very clearly craved for something to fill it.

And only then did Serac realize that her [Hypoxia] effect was long gone, along with the light-green bar that measured the amount of air in her lungs. In its place, she played host to a new status effect, complete with a separate gauge of its own:

[Wayfarer Status Effect: HUNGER]

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