The familiar pull of light and weightlessness faded, and Dillion’s boots touched down on the stone streets of the capital outpost.
For a moment, he just stood there, letting the city sounds wash over him — merchants calling out deals, the distant clang of a smith’s hammer, the soft hum of Soul Crystals lining the walls. But underneath all of that, his focus was razor sharp. Today was the day.
He adjusted the straps on his shield, feeling the familiar weight settle against his arm. May’s words from last night still echoed in his head. You’ve got this.
Dillion made his way through the winding streets toward the main gate that led out to the wilds beyond the capital. The air grew cooler as the walls loomed ahead. His mind was already rehearsing the fight — where to position himself, how to bait the King, how to time the new technique Valen had drilled into him over and over.
Then he saw her.
May was leaning casually against the massive gate, arms crossed, a sly smile on her face. Her brown hair caught the morning light, and her gear — light leather with blue accents — looked travel-ready.
“Took you long enough, Water Gun,” she called out, straightening as he approached.
Dillion slowed, eyebrows raising. “What are you doing here? I thought you had work at the bookstore today.”
“Called out,” she said simply, stepping in to match his pace as the guards waved them through. “If you’re going to go do something insane like take on the Aqueduct King again, the least I can do is walk you to your potential doom.”
He smirked. “You know, that’s oddly supportive.”
“Someone’s gotta be,” she replied, giving him a sidelong glance. “Besides, you’ve been so busy with your fancy guild life, I barely see you anymore. Thought I’d get a front-row seat to whatever crazy stunt you’re planning this time.”
They passed under the shadow of the gates, the open road stretching out ahead toward the distant aqueduct ruins. The morning breeze was cool, carrying the scent of rain from somewhere far away.
May bumped his shoulder lightly. “You’re gonna win today. I can feel it.”
“I hope you’re right,” Dillion said quietly, his grip tightening on his shield. “Because this time… there’s no coming back without that kill.”
They walked side by side, their conversation dipping in and out — a mix of teasing and quiet focus. Dillion found himself grateful for May’s chatter; it kept his mind from overanalyzing every possible way the fight could go wrong.
The closer they drew to the aqueduct ruins, the more the world seemed to narrow. The stone path gave way to packed dirt, then to uneven ground with moss creeping over broken tiles. Ahead, the ancient archway of the aqueduct loomed, its surface weathered by centuries, water spilling in thin sheets over the sides into the channels below.
Dillion slowed as he saw movement near the entrance.
At first, he thought it was just another adventuring party coming back from a run. Then the shapes became familiar.
Valen. Lana. Kael. Mika. And even Gorran — arms crossed, leaning casually against a broken pillar. All of Crit Happens, gathered in one place.
May tilted her head. “You didn’t tell me this was going to be a whole thing.”
“I… didn’t know it was,” Dillion admitted.
As they approached, Valen stepped forward, his usual smirk replaced with something more grounded. “Took you long enough, Rogers.”
Dillion blinked. “What are you guys doing here? I’m going in solo.”
“We know,” Valen said simply. “But you’re still one of us. We came to make sure you remember that.”
Lana gave him a two-finger salute. “Think of us as your noisy fan club.”
Kael grinned. “And your backup plan if you really screw it up. Not that we can help you in there, but hey, spirit counts.”
Mika smiled warmly, stepping just close enough for him to hear over the sound of the rushing water. “You’ve got this, Dillion. You’ve been training for months for this moment. The King doesn’t stand a chance.”
Gorran let out a low chuckle. “Break his legs for me.”
Dillion felt the tension in his chest ease a little. He had come here ready to face this fight alone — and he still would — but seeing them all here, waiting for him, turned the pressure into something else. Pride. Determination.
Valen clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll be right here when you come out. Don’t make us wait too long.”
Dillion nodded once, firmly. “I won’t.”
He took a deep breath, turned toward the dark archway, and stepped forward — the sound of his guild cheering him on echoing behind him as he crossed into the Aquaduct.
The air inside the aqueduct was cool and damp, smelling faintly of moss and ancient stone. Water dripped in steady rhythms from the high arches, echoing into the tunnels like the ticking of a clock.
Dillion’s boots splashed through shallow runoff as he walked, the worn leather-bound Field Guide in his hands. The cover was creased and frayed from months of use — every page inside crammed with sketches, notes, and hastily scrawled observations from his past attempts.
The King prefers to keep distance at first — tail sweeps to control space.
Will switch to aggressive rush after first sustained damage.
Armor plating over chest… possible weak point at the lower sternum?
Beware tail feint — looks like a mace swing, but follows with a claw grab.
He had written those notes after the third fight, still sore from being slammed into a wall hard enough to make the aqueduct dust rain from the ceiling.
Speed increase noted after glow begins — possibly water magic enhancement.
Water on the field benefits HIM more than you.
Don’t spread the water unless you can use it.
His thumb brushed over the last note. That was the mistake he’d made every single time before. He’d flooded the battlefield with his Water Manipulation thinking it gave him more control, only for the King to glide over it like a predator in its element.
The sound of rushing water grew louder the deeper he went. The tunnel opened into a series of massive stone steps, leading down toward the underground water temple — the Fighting Grounds.
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The place was just as he remembered: a circular chamber with waist-high channels of running water, carved pillars holding up a domed ceiling that seemed impossibly high. Faint light streamed in from cracks above, catching the spray of the central fountain that gushed like a heartbeat in the room.
This was where he had been broken — again and again.
But this time… he closed the Field Guide, tucking it into the strap at his side.
This time was different.
From the far end of the temple, deep in the shadows of the cavern, something stirred.
A low, rumbling growl rolled through the chamber like distant thunder, making the water at Dillion’s feet ripple.
Two pinpricks of blue light ignited in the darkness — the Aquaduct King’s eyes.
The hulking silhouette emerged from the gloom, water sloshing around its towering, three-meter frame. Every step it took made the stone groan. Its claws scraped against the floor, its mace-like tail dragging lazy arcs through the water, sending ripples toward him.
Dillion tightened his grip on his shield and knife, heart pounding but hands steady.
This was it. No running. No excuses.
The beast let out a slow exhale, and the faint blue glow along its arms began to pulse. It was coming.
Outside the Aquaduct Entrance
The others waited near the moss-covered stone archway, the constant rush of water echoing from inside. Conversation was light — a mix of banter and nervous energy.
Kael leaned against a pillar, bow at his side. “He’s been in there for, what, 20 minuets? Either he’s already dead or—”
“—or he’s just getting warmed up,” Lana cut in, smirking.
But then Valen’s expression shifted. “Heads up. We’ve got company.”
From down the aqueduct path, two figures approached — both clad in dark, reinforced armor inlaid with glowing white lines, their cloaks trailing like shadows.
The unmistakable insignia of the Soul Wardens gleamed on their chests.
As they drew closer, the air seemed to tighten. Every member of Crit Happens instinctively reached for their weapons.
The taller of the two Wardens didn’t so much as glance at them. He walked straight past, his boots splashing through the shallow water at the entrance, disappearing into the cave.
The other stopped right at the mouth of the aqueduct, planting his halberd into the ground with a heavy thunk. He didn’t speak, but his posture said everything:
No one was going inside.
Valen stepped forward. “What’s your business here?”
The Warden’s reply was flat, almost mechanical. “Observation.”
The guild exchanged uneasy glances. Whatever was happening inside… was now under watch.
Inside the Aquaduct – Underground Water Temple
The Aquaduct King lunged first — a sudden, impossible burst of speed for something so huge. Dillion dove sideways, water exploding around him as the beast’s mace-tail slammed into the spot where he’d been a heartbeat earlier.
Stay calm. Don’t get greedy.
He circled, boots splashing through the shallow pools, letting the shield lead his movements. Every time the monster advanced, he angled it to absorb the impact, then countered with a quick Water Bullet to the face, forcing the beast to flinch.
The roar of the crowd wasn’t there this time — just the distant rush of the aqueduct above. But in his mind, he could almost hear his guild’s voices: Kael calling shots, Mika urging him to move faster, Gorran laughing through the chaos. Even Valen’s calm, precise tone guided him like a ghost in his ear.
The King’s claws swept toward him in a wide arc. Dillion ducked under, letting the attack sail over his head before driving his shoulder into the beast’s midsection with a Shield Bash. It staggered — just enough for him to whip around and land a Weak Point strike to the side of its leg.
The blue glow pulsing across the creature’s body flared brighter. The water at their feet surged as if pulled by an unseen tide. Dillion’s instincts screamed — and he leapt back just as the King glided forward, skimming over the water’s surface with terrifying speed.
The fight was messy, unpredictable — every dodge and counter felt razor-thin. But unlike before, he wasn’t just fighting for himself. Every move, every block, was powered by the thought of the people outside… watching, waiting, believing he could win.
The Aquaduct King’s tail lashed out again, missing his head by inches and shattering a stone pillar behind him.
“Alright,” Dillion muttered under his breath, resetting his stance
The Aquaduct King lunged again, snapping its clawed hand toward him like a striking serpent. Dillion slipped to the side, shield scraping across its arm to redirect the blow. His boots splashed as he darted in close, eyes locking on the faint red glimmer only he could see.
There you are.
With a surge of speed, he leapt up the side of a half-submerged pillar, pushing off hard. The King’s head swung toward him, but too late — Dillion came down like a hammer, knife gripped tight in both hands.
The blade plunged deep into the glowing red point — the creature’s massive left eye.
The Aquaduct King shrieked, water erupting upward in violent columns as its claws tore at the air. Dillion clung to the hilt, twisting the knife until the crystal-like surface of the eye cracked under the pressure.
The monster staggered back, crashing against the temple wall. Blood-dark water rippled outward, and its movements became wild, erratic — a wounded predator thrashing in panic.
Dillion ripped the knife free and hit the water with a heavy splash, rolling to his feet. He could see the beast’s vision in that eye was gone, its head jerking as it tried to track him with the other.
“Doesn’t feel so good, does it?” he panted, raising his shield.
But even injured, the King’s presence was suffocating. The blue glow pulsed again, water drawing toward its feet as it prepared another glide.
This wasn’t over — but now, for the first time, Dillion felt the momentum shift.
The Aquaduct King’s body began to glow, its scales shimmering with an ominous blue light. Dillion froze for half a heartbeat — he had seen this before. This was its rage state. The moment where most of his past attempts had ended in brutal failure.
Not this time.
He shoved his shield onto his back and thrust out his hand, calling forth every drop of water he could feel. Streams burst from the aqueduct walls, from the temple pool, even from the rivulets running off the King itself. They swirled toward him, spiraling into a violent vortex around his right arm.
The sound of rushing water was deafening.
Somewhere in the chaos, the King’s form blurred and vanished — gliding effortlessly across the temple’s surface. The sound of water slicing past stone echoed from every direction, too fast to track.
Then came the roar.
It dropped from above, its massive tail swinging down like a giant spiked mace, aiming to crush him into the stone.
“Now… CONDENSE!” Dillion roared.
The vortex around his arm compressed violently, the spiraling chaos snapping into a tight, glowing mass. He could feel the strain, the pressure so intense it almost burned against his skin.
His mind flashed back to training with Valen, watching him conjure the infamous Wind Blade.
Gather the element in your palms. Condense it. Tighten it until it’s sharper than steel.
Dillion’s grip tightened on the formless mass.
“Water… BLADE!”
From the vortex, a sword of pure, high-pressure water snapped into existence — shimmering and deadly. With one wide, desperate swing, he met the crushing blow head-on.
The air cracked with a violent shhhhhhhrip!
The Aquaduct King’s tail — spikes, mace, and all — was severed cleanly at the base.
The beast screamed, water exploding outward as it stumbled back, crashing into the far wall. For the first time in all their encounters, it didn’t charge. It didn’t counter. It turned, retreating into the depths of the temple, its wounded cries echoing as it vanished from sight.
Dillion stood in the spray, chest heaving, the fading glow of the Water Blade reflecting in his eyes.
For the first time… the King had run from him.
The Aquaduct King stumbled, its massive frame trembling as water poured from the deep gashes across its body. Its once-crushing strikes had turned into clumsy, desperate swings.
Dillion’s breath was ragged, his muscles burning, but his grip on the Water Blade only tightened.
This is it.
He steadied his stance, remembering Valen’s voice during training:
"When you go for the final slash, don’t just swing. Commit. Every ounce of strength, every bit of intent — make the cut absolute."
The King lurched forward, raising its one remaining claw. Dillion mirrored Valen’s movement perfectly — one deep inhale, a twist of the hips, and a clean, decisive arc of his blade.
The high-pressure water tore through the beast’s core like it was paper.
A deafening roar echoed through the temple as the Aquaduct King froze mid-motion, eyes wide, before its massive body began to break apart into streams of dissolving light.
[MISSION COMPLETE] flashed across Dillion’s vision. His chest heaved. He had done it. Months of losses, all leading to this one moment.
But before relief could set in, heavy footsteps echoed from the shadows behind him.
Dillion turned, Water Blade still in hand.
From the darkness, a tall figure emerged — a Soul Warden, clad in pale armor, their face hidden behind an expressionless mask. The air in the temple seemed to grow heavier with each step they took, the sound of their boots striking stone unnervingly measured.
They stopped a few feet away, tilting their head ever so slightly.
“Dillion Rogers,” the voice was calm, yet cold, carrying an authority that made the hairs on his neck stand on end.
The Warden’s masked face leaned forward slightly.
“Welcome… to your Reaping.”