William had been provided a room for his stay, yet a relentless unease gnawed at him, like an itch beneath his skin. The bioluminescent walls, captivating at first, had begun to feel contrived, more akin to the glow of an aquarium than the warmth of a home. Even the view through the one-way glass, which granted him an unobstructed look at the outside world while shielding him from curious gazes, revealed little more than shadowy figures drifting through the dim blue expanse.
"This place is beautiful, sure… but I can't breathe in here."
Not physically, though the water-pressurized air systems seemed oddly constrictive on his lungs, but emotionally. The oppressive stillness, the eerie silence, and the unsettling perfection of it all made his skin crawl.
He ventured out into the city.
The streets bustled with vibrant activity, resembling a living reef teeming with life. Floating market stalls lined the thoroughfares, gently swaying in the currents. Merchants advertised exotic wares, luminous fruits, shimmering fabrics, intricately carved bone trinkets, and the faint aroma of a spiced, savory broth wafted through the water like a delicate incense. Bioluminescent orbs floated above, their soft glow casting a dreamlike luminance over the scene.
William attracted attention wherever he went. Atlanteans paused mid-conversation to observe him, their expressions indecipherable, while others whispered behind ornate masks. He wasn't surprised; surface dwellers were a rare sight at such depths, especially ones wandering freely.
"Bet I'm the only human most of them have ever seen outside a history scroll," he thought, trying to ignore the weight of their stares. "Or a war report."
Suddenly, a burst of movement crossed his path. A group of children darted through the water, chasing a ball shaped like a silvery fish. The toy zipped through the current, by a squeaky little fin. One enthusiastic kick sent it spinning toward William, who caught it instinctively.
The children froze.
For a moment, the scene held still. Their wide eyes reflected a mixture of fear and curiosity. Finally, one boy with striking heterochromatic eyes, one sapphire blue, the other emerald green, hesitantly swam forward. His trembling hands reached out for the toy, uncertain whether to retrieve it or retreat.
William glanced at the boy, then at the ball in his hand.
"Jesus, I must look like a monster to them," he muttered to himself.
With a quiet sigh, he extended the toy gently and placed it in the boy's hands, giving him a light pat on the shoulder. The boy flinched at the touch but then blinked in surprise. William offered the faintest smile before turning to walk away.
Behind him, the silence broke.
"...Humans aren't so bad, I guess," one of the children said softly.
Another nodded. "Yeah, he didn't even get angry."
But a third scoffed. "Don't be stupid. Just because one of them's okay doesn't mean they all are."
William smirked faintly as he walked away, hands in his pockets. "Smart kid," he thought.
William ventured further into the heart of the city, guided more by intuition than deliberate intent. The deeper he moved away from the main thoroughfare, the more otherworldly the surroundings became, as though he had stepped into a dreamscape shaped by alien hands.
Immense coral-like structures stretched overhead, resembling the ribcages of colossal, ancient sea creatures, their surfaces alive with bioluminescent anemones that glowed and pulsed in languid, rhythmic patterns. Above him, delicate schools of translucent fish glided effortlessly, their iridescent forms catching the light like fragments of moonlight suspended in water. Their silent, unhurried movements imbued the scene with an almost sacred stillness, leaving William with the sense that he had wandered into an underwater cathedral.
He stopped at a plaza where the laws of gravity seemed to falter. The ground was a spiraling design of polished pearl interspersed with crushed shell, while just above it, suspended as if weightless, floated stone-like spheres etched with intricate Atlantean script. Occasionally, a passing figure would reach out to touch one, causing the sphere to emit a resonant hum, deep and haunting, as though it were singing a memory into the currents.
"Could this be… music?" William murmured, entranced by the harmony. "Or perhaps… history?"
A sudden gust of current swept past him as a group of armored sentries glided overhead, their long spears trailing soft, glowing light. Their movement was fluid, every motion precise and efficient. Their armor, crafted from polished scales and what resembled volcanic obsidian, appeared both timeless and futuristic. William noticed one of them glance at him, but the sentinel remained silent and simply floated past.
Still watching, William turned toward an alley that inexplicably sloped upward, yes, upward, and began his ascent. Along the way, he passed a spiraling tower wrapped in vines faintly glowing with runic script. The soft luminescence illuminated intricate carvings etched into the stone: ancient depictions of sea creatures, regal coronations, and battles waged in trenches darker than the abyss. When William touched one of the carvings, the stone vibrated faintly beneath his fingers.
He continued climbing.
Eventually, he reached an overlook, a glass dome that jutted from the rocky wall like the eye of a deep-sea leviathan. Inside, he found a bench shaped like a giant open clam shell, lined with cushions made from soft, sea-plant fibers. Without hesitation, he sat, his breath catching at the sight before him.
The city sprawled endlessly in all directions, a constellation of submerged stars. Lights shimmered on coral towers, and strange, graceful creatures swam through the avenues like birds in flight. Long strands of kelp, like flowing banners, wove between the buildings, naturally connecting homes and temples. In the far distance, a radiant geyser of geothermal energy spiraled upward from a trench, bathing the skyline in a gentle, golden glow.
The only sound was the distant hum of life beneath the ocean's surface.
William sat on the cushioned clam-shell bench for what felt like an eternity, immersed in silent wonder. The view before him was not merely beautiful; it was ancient. Every luminous coral spire, every drifting marine creature, and every rune-etched walkway seemed to echo tales of a civilization that had thrived for millennia. By comparison, the surface world seemed almost... youthful, even naive.
"Time feels different here," he mused, his fingers lightly drumming on the armrest. "It's as if this city never stopped living, even when the rest of the world forgot it existed."
Eventually, he rose from the bench and stepped out of the dome, choosing a path that veered away from the central corridors. The grand arches and glowing lanterns gradually gave way to narrower passageways that wove through a more residential sector. Here, clusters of homes were carved into massive seashells or hollowed-out coral trees, where Atlantean families drifted peacefully outside their abodes.
Some acknowledged him with polite nods, while others kept a reserved distance. A few curious children dared to wave before retreating into the safety of dense kelp thickets.
He arrived at a public square adorned with spiraling water gardens and transparent bubbles that floated mid-current, each encapsulating a tiny, self-contained ecosystem. Luminous crustaceans scurried across crystal sand, and feathered aquatic plants swayed rhythmically in their suspended worlds. One garden released bubbles that, upon popping, emitted musical notes, bright, cascading tones that evoked the sound of laughter. Mesmerized, he watched as an elderly Atlantean tapped the bubble garden with a stick resembling coral fused with bone, crafting melodies as effortlessly as one might hum a tune.
William allowed himself to be enveloped by the enchantment of the moment.
"This place is a masterpiece," he whispered. "A living, breathing work of art."
As he ventured further, William began to notice a shift in the atmosphere around him.
The ornate architecture gradually gave way to more robust, utilitarian structures. The water currents grew denser, laden with sediment and resonating with unfamiliar sounds. Columns entwined with chain-like vines marked the entrance to an expansive tunnel network. Faint echoes reverberated through the water, low, rhythmic thuds resembling the beat of a colossal heart. It awakened something deep within him, something ancient and instinctive.
Driven by curiosity, William traced the sound, navigating through the narrowing tunnels until he emerged into a grand corridor hewn directly from obsidian-black stone. Strange statues lined the walls, depicting figures locked in perpetual combat. Some had claws and fins, others wielded multiple arms or wore menacing horned masks. Each sculpture was captured in a dramatic, almost violent pose, radiating an aura of fierce intensity, as if frozen mid-strike.
The vibrations in the current intensified.
Boom... Boom...
He was close.
Rounding a corner, William came face-to-face with an enormous circular gate, towering and constructed from massive bones, far larger than any creature he had ever encountered. Intricate carvings and chains adorned with glowing glyphs pulsated faintly, their rhythm mirroring the thunderous sound that guided him.
Then, with a groan, the gates began to open.
A storm of noise erupted.
The deafening roar of a crowd spilled out, not the sterile hum of a digital audience or the polite applause of a formal event, but a raw, visceral cacophony. Shouts of defiance, cheers of triumph, the clash of metal against metal, and perhaps even bone against bone. An untamed, chaotic energy surged through the opening.
Instinctively, William stepped forward, compelled to enter.
He stood in a vast coliseum, its seating crafted from living coral and fossilized shell, spiraling upward to meet the darkened domed ceiling. Thousands of Atlanteans floated in clustered rows, effortlessly suspended by unseen currents, their attention fixed on the circular arena at the center. In the watery pit below, two combatants engaged in a fierce and elegant duel.
One wielded a trident radiating bioluminescent energy, while the other fought with bare hands, his fists wrapped in blood-streaked kelp bandages. Each blow sent shockwaves rippling through the water, shaking the very currents. Every movement was precise and deliberate, refined by tradition and necessity.
William's eyes widened in realization. "This… isn't just sport."
It was a trial. A rite. A ritual.
He drifted closer, unnoticed amidst the roaring crowd, studying the scene. The combatants moved with fluid elegance, yet their strikes carried immense power. These were no staged performances; this was the crucible where warriors were forged.
Across the arena, a council of high-ranking officials sat in regal observation, their attire blending priestly robes with militaristic armor. Among them, a tall figure clad in obsidian armor, with long fins extending from his forearms, rose and gestured toward the victor. The trident-wielding combatant drove his weapon into the arena floor, claiming his victory.
A massive conch horn blared overhead, sending a fresh wave of cheers and cries echoing through the chamber.
Amidst the chaos and celebration, William felt an inexplicable sense of calm.
It reminded him of the sports stadiums on the surface, from a time before things became complicated. Before the burden of powers, responsibilities, and cosmic threats. Before the weight of destiny. This was raw, unfiltered, and real, human in its intensity, even if not created by human hands.
He perched on a nearby ledge, observing closely as new combatants entered the arena. One was a massive brute, his arms and shoulders armored with crustacean-like plating. The other, to William's surprise, was smaller, leaner, and exuded a quiet confidence reminiscent of a monk.
The match began without fanfare, without ceremony.
Only silence... and then violence.
Each clash reverberated through William's body like a shockwave, but he did not flinch. Instead, he leaned forward, his attention fixed as he analyzed the movements, deciphering the patterns. The bloodshed, the screams, the ecstatic cheers, it was savage, yet it carried an undercurrent of history and honor.
"Atlantis is not ruled by its beauty," he thought, "but by its strength."
His mind drifted to the Queen, her regal demeanor, her composed interrogation, her subtle tests of his intellect and resolve. Was this where she truly judged her people's hearts? Not within the grandeur of the throne room, but here, amidst the raw chaos of the arena?
Another thunderous clash erupted in the pit, jolting William to his feet. His fists clenched involuntarily, and something primal stirred deep within his veins.
William stood on the edge of the elevated archway, gazing down into the roiling depths of the arena. A ring of armored sentinels surrounded the perimeter, their spears crackling with bound current, ancient weapons capable of freezing the sea solid or boiling it into steam with a single motion. Around them, the crowd erupted, a deafening cacophony of war cries and celebration, reverberating through the water in waves that rattled his very bones.
The arena was more than a spectacle.
It was a crucible.
Every instinct within William clashed violently. One part of him screamed that this fight wasn't his, that he was merely a guest in this delicate peace. But another part, primal and unyielding, had already made its choice.
He tore off the upper half of his armor, exposing his chiseled chest and abs, while keeping the breathing mask and leggings intact. Without hesitation, he stepped over the archway and leaped into the arena. Like a meteor streaking through the water, he hurtled downward, forcing the two combatants to break apart to avoid injury or death.
BOOM!