'Tch. They're endless.'
Kairo's chest screamed for air. His lungs burned raw, ribs pulled tight like a vice, every second underwater sharpening into a blade pressing against him.
Blood streamed freely from the wound in his arm, crimson ribbons swirling in the abyss. He forced them to obey—twisting, hardening, shaping into forms that tore the trench apart.
Needles glided through the water, whips snapped like serpents, shields locked around his body in a shifting carapace.
Every strike shredded translucent throats, splitting skulls of blue fire, scattering phantoms into clouds of mist—only to watch them reform again.
His sword swung wide, obsidian carving brutal arcs of red through the trench. Each slash bit deep, a flare of black mana and blood painting the water scarlet.
But every motion dragged heavier, fatigue clawing through his body.
Too much blood.
