The Leviathan charged, a mountain of muscle and ancient fury propelled by the very ocean it commanded. The water compressed before it, becoming a wall of force that slammed into Zander an instant before the creature itself arrived. He tried to apply Sensei's teachings, to twist with the current, but the raw, overwhelming power was too much. The impact was a physical blow that sent him tumbling through the abyss, his suit groaning under the strain.
He barely managed to reorient himself before the cavernous mouth, a gaping abyss lined with teeth like obsidian daggers, was upon him. He crossed his blades in a desperate block. The sound was a horrific, high-pitched screech of metal grinding on enamel as the jaws clamped down. The force didn't just stop him; it drove him backward, a puppet caught in the grip of a god. Alarms screamed across his cracked visor—a cacophony of warnings about pressure integrity, structural failure, and imminent collapse.
With a desperate roar, he channeled all his energy into his legs, finding a momentary purchase on a jutting piece of ruin and kicking upward. The leverage was just enough. He tore his blades free as the creature's momentum carried it past him, its immense, scarred flank scraping against the rock with a sound like an earthquake. He used the brief opening to slash at its side, but the swords skidded across the armored hide, leaving little more than a faint scratch. It was like striking a mountain with a stick.
The beast barely seemed to notice. It turned with impossible speed, its tail whipping around in a devastating arc. Zander had no time to dodge. The impact felt like being hit by a freight train. Pain exploded through his chest, and he heard his own ribs crack. He was thrown violently against a wall of ancient stone, and the world went white with agony. His suit's internal display flickered, went dark, then came back, scrolling with red alerts. Suit integrity at 40%. Oxygen flow fluctuating.
He coughed, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth inside the rebreather. Through his fractured visor, he watched the Leviathan circle him, its golden eyes filled not with mindless hunger, but with an ancient, cold intelligence. It was studying him, dissecting his movements, learning his weaknesses. It was toying with him.
For long, terrifying minutes, the fight was a brutal, one-sided affair. Zander dodged, parried, and ran, using the jagged ruins as cover. But the Leviathan was relentless. It smashed through entire pillars to get to him, its power absolute. Every blow he managed to land was shallow, insignificant. Every evasive maneuver cost him precious energy and oxygen. He was on the losing side, and he knew it. His body was failing, his suit was collapsing, and the abyss was waiting to claim him.
Cornered in a small cavern of crumbling rock, he watched the Leviathan draw back, preparing for what felt like a final, annihilating charge. He could see the muscles in its massive body tense. This was it. There was no escape. Every lesson, every sword form, every technique Sensei had taught him was useless against this level of raw power.
Stop fighting the current, Zander. Become the current.
The memory of Sensei's voice was not a comfort, but a final, desperate spark. He had been trying to fight, to resist. But what if that was the mistake? With nothing left to lose, he let go. He closed his eyes and emptied his mind of fear, of pain, of the fight itself. He simply felt the water around him, the pressure, the vibrations of the approaching behemoth.
Then, something inside him broke open. Not his body—something else. A dam of perception burst.
The Flowing Current erupted in full.
The world seemed to slow to a crawl. As the Leviathan burst through the cavern wall, its jaws wide, Zander moved. He didn't dodge. He flowed. The water embraced him, carrying him in a silent, effortless spiral up and over the creature's head. The frantic alarms on his display became a slow, rhythmic pulse. The Leviathan's pained thrashing transformed from a chaotic, world-ending storm into a predictable, flowing dance.
He saw it all now—the subtle flex of a massive tendon, the faint, discordant hum of the bio-tech implants. He landed softly on its back as it crashed through the other side of the cavern. The creature howled in frustration, twisting and turning, but he was a part of it now, moving in perfect sync with its convulsions. This was the pinnacle of the Way of Water. But he could feel the cost—a cold, hollowing sensation deep in his core. He was burning his own life force as fuel.
He didn't have much time. He shot forward along its spine, his blades becoming extensions of his will. His target was not the implants, not a killing blow. He needed to make it bleed. He needed to make it fear. He drove both swords deep into the massive gills on its right side, the one area he had sensed was less armored.
He tore downward with all his might. The blades sliced through flesh and cartilage, opening a grievous wound. A torrent of dark blood and bio-luminescent fluid erupted, clouding the water in a sickly emerald and crimson haze. The Leviathan seized violently, its roar of rage turning into a shriek of pure agony that shook the very foundations of the ruins.
It thrashed, its powerful body a symphony of destruction, finally dislodging him. Zander was thrown clear, his body limp. The Leviathan, grievously wounded and bleeding profusely, stared at him for a long moment, its golden eyes now holding a flicker of something new: uncertainty. With a final, muted roar that was more a tremor of retreat than a challenge, it turned and fled, its powerful tail swiping the water into chaos as it disappeared into the crushing dark.
Zander hovered there, suspended in the abyss. The Flowing Current receded, leaving behind an emptiness that was colder and darker than the ocean itself. The pain returned, a roaring, all-consuming fire. His rebreather hissed weakly, a final, sputtering breath. The glow of his suit flickered and died.
He tried to move, to kick for the surface he couldn't see. His arms didn't respond. His consciousness, starved of oxygen and battered by trauma, began to ebb like the tide. As his vision tunneled into blackness, a powerful light cut through the gloom from above. A shape descended—too small, too fast to be another beast. A metallic arm, swift and sure, reached out from the submersible, clamping onto his ruined suit just as darkness swallowed him whole.