Lucen let the panel blink out, then muttered, "Why do I feel like the system's mocking me."
Varik stepped past him, didn't wait.
Just walked to the edge and dove in.
No splash. No theatrics. Just straight underwater in one clean motion.
Lucen hesitated.
Then stepped forward and sat on the edge first.
He dipped a foot.
The water hit like mana static, cool, buzzing slightly. Not freezing. Not warm.
He slid in.
Shivered once. "God, I hate this."
Varik surfaced at the far end and called, "Laps. Ten. No mana."
Lucen narrowed his eyes. "That's abuse."
"It's survival."
Lucen grumbled something inappropriate and kicked off.
The first stroke was sloppy.
The second, worse.
By the third, he'd found a rhythm. Not elegant. Not fast. But steady.
Halfway down the lane, his mind started wandering. The ripple sounds, the drag against his arms, the pull at his calves, everything felt slower, heavier.
'This isn't about swimming. It's pressure control.'
