The black water climbed past their waists, a freezing, creeping vice that threatened to swallow them whole.
Trench Zero was dying violently. Every structural groan echoing through the dark corridor was the sound of millions of tons of ocean pressure snapping solid steel like dry twigs. And at the end of the flooded hallway, standing waist-deep in the rising tide, the facility's final lockdown protocol waited for them.
Four automated security golems. They were hulking, faceless monstrosities built from riveted brass and dense iron, their optical sensors glowing with a harsh, unblinking red runic light. They did not carry weapons; their arms ended in heavy, hydraulic pincers designed to crush bone and breach pressure suits.
Between the survivors and the golems lay the triggered perimeter trap. A chaotic web of high-tension steel harpoon cables crisscrossed the narrow corridor, vibrating with lethal kinetic energy.
"We are trapped," Master Builder Vance whispered, his teeth chattering uncontrollably as the freezing water reached his chest. "If we touch those cables, the tension snaps. It will cut a man in half."
"If we don't cross them, the ceiling will crush us in less than two minutes," Rebecca shot back, her mechanical intellect desperately searching for a variable she could exploit.
She looked at the golems advancing slowly through the water. They were heavy and slow, designed for intimidation and riot control in a sealed environment, not for aquatic combat.
"Dawson," Rebecca called out, wiping freezing saltwater from her eyes. "The golems are driven by internal alchemical combustion cores. They are waterproof, but if you breach their central chest plating, the ocean water will flood the runic circuitry. They will short-circuit instantly."
"Understood," Dawson replied. His oxidized steel eyes scanned the razor-wire web blocking the corridor. "The kinetic tension on these cables is wired to the structural supports. If I sever them with my broadsword, the walls will collapse."
"So how do we cross?" one of the terrified Colstar engineers cried out.
"You walk," Dawson stated flatly.
The super-human did not wait for a debate. He waded directly into the web of high-tension cables. He didn't duck or try to contort his body to avoid the razor-sharp steel. He simply shoved his heavy, silver-plated forearms directly into the center of the web and engaged his augmented musculature.
With a terrifying, metallic screech, Dawson forced the cables apart.
The raw kinetic tension fought back. The steel wires ground against his silver armor, sending sparks showering into the freezing water. The cables slipped past his pauldrons, biting deeply into the exposed gaps of his dark tunic, slicing straight into his biceps and shoulders.
Vance let out a horrified gasp as the wires cut into the boy's flesh.
Dawson did not flinch. His heart rate did not elevate. The Cyprian venom pumping through his veins instantly recognized the trauma, flooding the lacerations with a dark, almost black coagulant that sealed the bleeding within seconds. He gritted his teeth, his boots grinding into the submerged iron floor, and pushed his arms outward, physically holding the lethal web open.
He created a narrow, jagged gap exactly wide enough for a human body to slip through.
"Move," Dawson commanded, his voice a strained, mechanical rasp. "My structural leverage will fail in forty seconds."
Rebecca didn't hesitate. "Go! Through the gap! Now!"
She grabbed Vance by the collar of his soaked uniform and shoved him toward the opening. The old master builder scrambled through the parted cables, terrified to even brush against the vibrating steel Dawson was holding back. The other six engineers followed in a frantic, splashing rush, slipping past the bleeding super-human and into the corridor beyond.
Rebecca went last, clutching the canvas satchel containing the golden Leviathan core tightly to her chest. As she slid through the gap, she looked up at Dawson's face. It was entirely blank, completely detached from the physical agony of the steel biting into his muscles.
The moment Rebecca cleared the web, the four brass golems reached them.
The lead golem raised a massive hydraulic pincer, aiming a crushing blow at the back of a fleeing engineer's head.
"Hold the line," Dawson muttered to himself.
He released his grip on the right side of the cable web. The high-tension steel snapped back with the sound of a whip cracking. It didn't hit the engineers; Dawson had angled the release perfectly. The razor-sharp cable whipped forward, slamming directly into the lead golem's neck joint, completely decapitating the heavy brass machine.
The headless golem sparked wildly and collapsed into the water.
Dawson stepped completely clear of the trap, drawing his broadsword in a smooth, blinding arc. He didn't waste energy parrying the heavy hydraulic pincers. He seamlessly slipped inside the guard of the second golem, using his Trangdar leverage to drive the tip of his heat-tempered blade directly under the machine's heavy chest plate.
He wrenched the sword upward, tearing the brass plating away from the chassis.
Freezing ocean water rushed into the exposed runic circuitry. The blue alchemical light inside the golem flared a blinding, violent white, followed by a harsh crackle of electricity. The machine froze, entirely short-circuited, and tipped backward.
Two left.
Dawson didn't stop. He moved like a silver phantom through the waist-deep flood. He bypassed the crushing grip of the third golem, using the machine's own forward momentum against it, slamming the pommel of his sword into its chest plate to shatter the seal. The water did the rest.
The final golem lunged, its pincer catching the edge of Dawson's breastplate. The hydraulic grip clamped down, denting the Cyprian silver.
Dawson simply dropped his sword into the water. He reached out with his bare, bleeding hands, grabbing the edges of the golem's brass chest plate. The venom in his veins surged, granting him the raw, terrifying strength of a monster. With a sickening screech of tearing metal, Dawson ripped the plating off the machine with his bare hands.
The final golem died in a shower of underwater sparks.
Dawson retrieved his sword from the water, sheathing it smoothly. He turned to look at the terrified survivors. "The threat is neutralized. Proceed to the airlock."
Rebecca let out a ragged breath, her grip tightening on the satchel. They waded the final fifty feet down the flooded corridor, finally reaching the heavy iron hatch that connected to their stealth submersible.
"Open it," Rebecca ordered, her fingers fumbling with the manual release.
Vance helped her turn the heavy locking wheel. The hatch swung open.
The inside of the submersible was designed for a crew of four. Fitting nine people inside was an exercise in absolute, suffocating claustrophobia. The Colstar engineers piled into the small cabin, pressing against the curved metal walls, shivering and coughing up stale water.
Rebecca climbed in, taking her place at the primary console. Dawson entered last. He pulled the heavy iron hatch shut, sealing the locking mechanism with a definitive, hollow clunk.
"Engage primary air recyclers," Rebecca said, her hands flying over the brass dials. "Disengage magnetic docking seals."
The high-powered electromagnets holding them to the dying facility released with a loud hum.
"We are detached," Dawson reported from behind her, his armor dripping freezing saltwater onto the floor grates.
"Hold on," Rebecca warned the engineers.
She didn't engage the thrusters. The noise would instantly alert the Colstar dreadnoughts lingering on the surface. Instead, she adjusted the ballast tanks, letting the natural, upward thermal current of the magma vent catch the submersible.
They began to drift upward into the pitch-black abyss.
Ten seconds later, Trench Zero died.
The implosion did not make a sound, but the shockwave was apocalyptic. The ocean finally crushed the massive alchemical glass dome and the thick iron walls, collapsing the entire facility into a microscopic singularity of pressure before violently rebounding.
The concussive wave slammed into the bottom of the submersible.
The vessel was propelled upward at a terrifying speed, spinning wildly in the turbulent water. The engineers screamed as they were thrown against the bulkheads. Rebecca slammed her body against the console, wrapping her arms around the steering yokes to keep from being thrown backward, her heart hammering in sheer panic for her unborn child.
Dawson stood in the center of the spinning cabin, his magnetic boots completely anchoring him to the floor. He simply reached out and grabbed Master Builder Vance by the collar, keeping the old man from cracking his skull against a brass pipe.
The violent spin slowly began to stabilize as they rode the shockwave out of the thermal trench and into the open, freezing water of the deep ocean.
"Damage report," Rebecca wheezed, her head spinning dizzily.
"Hull integrity is at ninety-two percent," Dawson read from the glowing green radar screen. "We have cleared the blast radius. We are currently two thousand feet below the surface. Depth charges have ceased."
"Enoch's fleet thinks the implosion killed whoever triggered the alarms," Rebecca deduced, her breathing slowly returning to normal. "They think the Leviathan blueprints went down with the facility."
She leaned against the console, her legs finally giving out. She slid down the metal wall, sitting heavily on the iron grates. The adrenaline was rapidly draining from her system, leaving behind a bone-deep, nauseating exhaustion.
Vance knelt beside her, his single eye wide with a mixture of reverence and absolute disbelief. He looked at the young Queen, covered in engine grease and soaking wet, who had just dragged them out of an underwater grave.
"You saved us," Vance whispered, his voice cracking. "King Aiden would have let us drown. You came into the dark for us."
"I didn't come for you, Master Builder," Rebecca said bluntly, too exhausted to play politics. She patted the wet canvas satchel resting on her lap. "I came for the brass. But Cypris needs mechanics. If you want to survive this holy war, you belong to the Obsidian Vanguard now."
Vance bowed his head deeply. "My life, and the lives of my crew, are yours, Queen Rebecca."
Dawson remained standing, his back straight, his eyes fixed on the sonar screen. The lacerations on his arms had stopped bleeding entirely, leaving only jagged, dark lines across his pale skin.
"We are passing beneath the acoustic shadow of the Colstar dreadnoughts," Dawson reported. "Thermal cloaking is holding. We are completely undetectable."
Rebecca closed her eyes, resting her hand over her stomach beneath the thick canvas. The nausea was fading, replaced by a fierce, protective warmth. She had survived. Her child had survived the crushing deep.
"Set a course for the western mountain passes, Commander," Rebecca said softly, the hum of the stealth engine vibrating against her back. "Take us home."
Dawson entered the coordinates into the brass navigational console. The submersible banked smoothly in the black water, leaving the stolen island of Colstar and its forty thousand zealots completely unaware of the ghost that had just slipped through their fingers.
They had the Leviathan. The geopolitical board was about to change.