Before Marisol knew it again, a whole week passed by, and she was doing her morning stretches in her room when Victor climbed in through her window.

  The man was soaking wet as usual—the light drizzle never ended in the Whirlpool City—but he didn’t care about getting her floorboards damp. By this point, she’d grown used to him making a mess of her room whenever he wanted, so she didn’t even bother looking at him as she continued stretching.

  —

  “Get out, lass,” Victor said, thumbing out the window. “You’re going up to Lighthouse Seven.”

  She hadn’t seen the man in a week since he dragged her out to morning school, and now he was back with yet another bull-headed demand.

  “Let me get my stretches and morning warm-up in first,” she mumbled, stretching her waist, legs, and shoulder all at once. “Also, I asked Daniela for a second room, and she said she can afford to give me another. Now, I ain’t gonna be unreasonably forceful like a certain old man I know, but if you want, I can ask her to give you—”

  Victor clicked his tongue irritably, grabbed her collar, and chucked her out the window. Thankfully, she’d expected something of the sort and was already putting on her remipede earrings, so she landed glaives-first on the main street below, scaring a thin crowd of fashionable onlookers as she scowled up at Victor.

  The old man hopped out half a second later and started speed-walking up, his cane tapping loudly against the cobbled street.

  And she hadn’t been training her underwater speed the past week for nothing.

  “... I heard from a little Archive that you've been asking for extra bug meat accordingly,” he said idly, glancing at her as she sped up next to him, half-skating, half-walking. “I know you wanna get stronger faster, but the next time my Archive catches you ordering brothy lobster with rice at that posh marisqueria downtown with money, I’m taking my room back.”

  Marisol pouted, vibrating her hydrospines softly to make the rain bounce off her skin. “The sooner I get stronger and get my vial of healing seawater, the earlier we can both be out of each other’s hair—”

  “No. the one who insisted on going down to Depth Eight yourself. I didn't want you to do jack shit, so stop reaching into my wallet and ordering the most expensive point set on that menu. Get your own points from now on by hunting bugs in the whirlpool,” he muttered. “But at least you got around five hundred points this week by exhausting my entire life savings, didn’t you? What’d you do with them?”

  She tapped her thighs, and he looked down to see dozens of eyeball-sized holes scattered across her glaives. They weren’t see-through, no, but they could give someone with a fear of clustered holes goosebumps for life.

  Then she took a look at the status screen that popped up next to her head before glancing at Victor, wondering if the old man could see it as well.

  [T4 Core Mutation Unlocked: Basic Discharge Lvl. 1]

  [Brief Description: Your glaives have evolved small jets in them that allow you to suck in and eject air and water at will, allowing you to propel yourself underwater without kicking your legs. Subsequent levels in this mutation will decrease the stamina drain from continuously discharging]

  [Aura: 1,535 → 2,035]

  [Points: 501 → 1]

  “New mutation,” she said plainly, and the two of them sped into the lighthouse, past the reception counters, ignoring everyone waving at Victor as they reached the end of the building. “My Archive said this one’s absolutely worth getting over any additional attribute levels and mutation upgrades if I’m gonna be working underwater, so… what do you think? Should I have just put my points into something else—”

  “This one’s strong,” he agreed with a nod, and she couldn’t help but raise a brow. He never usually agreed with anything she said. “If you unlocked it only this morning, I don’t suppose you have any training or practice with it. Try not to use it if you don’t have to. It can fling you everywhere if you can’t control it.”

  Now, she was about to ask if he could actually see her status screen when they emerged out the other side of the lighthouse—that was, the ever-churning whirlpool at the top and centre of the city. They were still at the base of the building, so the swirling water was only three or so metres below, but dozens of armoured lugger ships were already docked in the small harbours by each of the seven lighthouses surrounding the whirlpool. Hundreds of Imperators were clamouring around the ships and the harbours, racing along the edge of the crater to deliver messages between the lighthouses.

  It was as busy a sight as ever, and while Marisol had never gotten herself involved in actual Imperator duty before—whenever she wanted to dive down to Depth One for training, she’d just jump off the top of Lighthouse Seven and bypass the harbours and the ships and all the constructs at the edge of the whirlpool—but today was different. She wasn’t being dragged by Victor, she wasn’t half-asleep, and… she looked sorely out of place here.

  Every Imperator hauling crates and weapons and food supplies onto the ships was clad in pristine white and blue military uniforms, delicate gold embroideries running along the edges of their capelets. They weren’t necessarily wearing armour plates like most mercenaries she’d seen passing through her desert town, but they were all carrying weapons: halberds made of crab pincers, lances made of lobster antennae, and literal ship anchors thrice the size of their bodies. Sure, most of them were probably strong enough to wield such oversized weapons, but she still thought they were menacing as all hell. Apart from Victor, she was the only one not carrying a weapon as she trudged down the harbour, and it made her feel unprepared.

  They were all gearing up for war, and with her stomach showing in her Sand-Dancer clothes, she looked like she was going on vacation.

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  the Archive reassured.

  She thought, chewing her lip as she skated across the wobbly harbour. Victor was taking her to a small ship at the very end of the floating metal platforms, but she was too busy gawking at everyone else to see who was on the ship.

  the Archive said plainly.

  the Archive explained, gesturing around at the Imperators,

  Marisol gave the Archive a pointed squint, but it had a point. Even if the saifs and normal-sized blades in her desert town were wielded by someone strong enough to put a dent in a giant bug, the dent would have to be if they wanted to actually hurt an ultra-giant aquatic bug.

  “Get out of your head and pay attention,” Victor grumbled, grabbing her by the collar and tossing her onto the ship at the end of the harbour. She flipped mid-air and landed on her glaives again, but this time, there wasn’t a crowd to greet her. Only Reina was there on the armoured deck while Victor kicked their ship off from the harbour.

  While the ship lurched and started swirling along the current of the whirlpool, Marisol stumbled into the railings, saved from falling overboard by Reina’s scorpion tail wrapping around her waist.

  “... It is not the end of the world if you fall overboard, but there is a chance you will get hit by another ship or a sinking diving bell on your way back up, and injuries like that happen too often for our liking,” Reina said stiffly, pulling her back as Marisol chuckled nervously, arms flailing slightly as she tried stabilising herself.

  “She’s been diving to Depth One by herself the past week. If she gets hit by a slow-moving ship, then she’s only got her own sluggishness to blame,” Victor said, and the two of them whirled as he trudged around the upper deck, working the chains and masts and making sure the rope connecting the ship to the harbour was still intact. Marisol hadn’t even seen him jumping on board. Wasn’t he the one who kicked them away from the harbour in the first place? “What’s her first mission again, Reina? It ain’t straight to Depth Four or something with her, eh?”

  Reina shook her head, releasing Marisol and pointing her tail at the giant diving bell dangling over the back of the small ship. “Nothing of the sort. This is but a simple patrol mission in Depth Two.” Then she trudged towards the diving bell, beckoning Marisol to follow with a curl of a finger. “The Imperators separate by grade and enter diving bells thrice every day to patrol a given Depth. The purpose is to cull any overgrown aquatic bugs and ensure the safety of any commercial divers harvesting resources down there, so there is absolutely nothing for you to worry about. This is a daily routine we have been carrying out for many, many years.”

  Glancing around, she spotted dozens more armoured ships being released from their moorings and allowed to swirl towards different spots above the whirlpool. The length of the anchoring ropes determined how far they were allowed to drift away from the harbours, so it wasn’t entirely accurate to call them ‘ships’. They were more floating metal platforms with giant diving bells attached to cranes and winches, and the bells themselves were… pearl-like. Dark bronze, etched with filigree and symbols of the Imperators, and tarnished by years of use in high-pressure Depths, the diving bells with circular windows of thick, reinforced glass were each large enough to hold half a dozen Imperators, maybe even a few more.

  But Marisol, born a Sand-Dancer with a free spirit, wasn’t exactly thrilled to jump in through the opened hatch on the side. Like the Imperators’ giant weapons, she was more than happy just admiring the diving bells from afar.

  the Archive said, trying to reassure her once again as she neared the hatch.

  The hatch was right over the railing, so while Victor kicked back on a chair in the middle of the deck to sunbathe—bandages still covering every inch of his skin—Reina beckoned Marisol to climb into the dimly-lit diving bell.

  Perplexed, Marisol tilted her head at the pretty lady.

  “Am I… patrolling Depth Two by myself?” she asked. “Aren’t you and Victor gonna follow me? Aren’t you gonna help me out in case I… you know, screw up my literal first mission? How do I even patrol Depth Two? How long will I be down there for? I don’t—”

  “Victor cannot dive too deep, so he will be up here monitoring your diving bell, and I will be up here coordinating the other diving bells as well,” Reina said, shaking her head slowly. “In any case, we are not sending you down there alone. The others are already waiting for you inside, and they will tell you the mission details. You will be fine as long as you listen to their instructions.”

  Marisol was about to pepper Reina with more questions when Victor suddenly blitzed in and kicked her over the railings, into the giant bell. As she slammed against the curved inside wall, the hatch immediately slammed shut behind her, and she heard the rivets turning, the pistons sliding in place to make the whole thing airtight.

  “You’ll be fine, lass!” Victor shouted, and his voice was muffled through the window. “Get along with those three, okay? Don’t you ruin my reputation as the best mentor there ever was! I’m expecting good results from you!”

  And as the man began cranking the lever to drop her into the whirlpool, Marisol turned and blinked at the three Imperators already seated on the benches by the walls of the bell.

  They blinked back at her, evidently just as befuddled as she was.