There it is again. That feeling. It was so familiar and yet so foreign. He could feel himself floating in a fixed suspension of buoyancy. What happened? His right shoulder has an ungodly stinging pain surging from it, but his forearm is seemingly numb. Aside from his sense of touch, his other core senses feel smothered and stifled. He's felt this before. When… where? He wants to open his eyes but can't find the energy within himself to. And so he waits, feeling his body in a strange fixture between floating and flying.
His mind, drub and dreary, tries to recollect how he could have wound up in this place, wherever it was.
He had found Ryu and taken her side, believing in her innocence. Immediately, Jura dropped the facade and revealed his true nature, divulging that he had framed Gale for the murder in Rivira. His plan exposed, Jura summoned a Lambton and attempted to have them both killed. Thankfully, the pair was able to kill it without too much difficulty. But the Lambton was just a front, a decoy for the real horror. A series of explosions were set off, violently rousing and enraging the dungeon. It let out a vicious, ear-piercing cry that echoed through the caverns, tunnels, and floors.
Ryu looked at him and cried out for him to flee. He had never seen this side of her. The calm, composed elf he so synonymously characterized her by begged and pleaded for him to run for his life. For a moment, he was too stunned to process her desperate cries. But then he felt it—the looming sense of dread and death that permeated her air, seemingly leaking from the walls of the dungeon. His heightened senses allowed him to hear the carnage making its way to them. Hearing the sounds of hacked and butchered flesh, blood spewing and splurging, and hysterical, horrified cries, he attempted to make his way to the source but was stopped by Ryu. She refused to let him go, to let him play the hero and meet a grim end.
Would she feel guilty for being such a coward and leaving those other adventurers to die? Maybe. But at least she and the boy would be alive. She couldn't lose another. Not again.
Jura reveled in the sounds of the nearby carnage. He held a crazed look in his eye as he laughed at Ryu, mocking her past failure. She had survived her previous encounter with the monster; only by sacrificing her friends, the ones she held so dearly in her heart. Though not dearly enough.
She did not have the time nor the focus to give a reaction to Jura. All that mattered to her now was saving the boy she deemed to be a friend away from this place. But it made no difference. To her horror, the beast, known as the Juggernaut, burst into the room. Fresh blood dripped from its mouth, claws, and tail as its crimson eyes scanned the room. The fifty adventurers it had slain on its way here did little to quench its thirst for blood. A few had managed to escape from its grasp in the earlier slaughter. Bors included.
His eyes widened as he looked at the thing that had caused so much death. It was hideous, an abomination, a true monster of the dungeon. Its frame was rigid and skeletal, having what looked to be little to no muscle mass. It was quadruple, its hind legs crooked and hunched, ready to pounce at any moment. Its tail resembled a spine with boney appendages akin to spikes trailing along its edge. It waved hypnotically, giving it a sickening charm and allure. Its face was nothing more than a skull that housed sunken crimson eyes in its sockets. Atop its head were a pair of horns.
He felt himself shaking. It looked so eerily similar to that thing he encountered in the labyrinth. Quickly, shook his head away from such thoughts. It wasn't the time to dwell on such things.
Noticing it reeling itself back in preparation for an attack, he searched around himself, figuring that his knife would bring him too close for comfort with the Juggernaut. To his luck, a greatsword had embedded itself in the ground not far from him. Swiftly, he unearthed the blade and rushed at the monster, ferociously slashing at it. He managed to intercept it before it reached Bors and the remaining survivors.
The Juggernaut quickly turned its attention to him, seeing him as the primary threat in the room. They clashed and traded a few blows with one another, far more than anyone else—or the Juggernaut would have liked.
Through his strikes, he could feel that it lacked overall physical endurance and defense. It dealt with its foes as swiftly and viciously as possible. It was not accustomed to a prolonged battle. He had heard of such a term to describe this offensive-focused fighting style. 'Glass cannon' if he recalled correctly.
Despite its defensive flaws, the Juggernaut compensated through sheer offensive force, shattering the greatsword in his hands, leaving him with but a pitiful hilt to defend himself. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he backstepped, throwing the broken and tattered blade to the side. He raised his hand and channeled his focus through it. He got through two of the three syllables of the quick-cast spell before he heard his name being cried out.
It was Ryu.
She tried desperately to make him cancel his attack, but it was too late. A fire ignited from his fingertips and burst forward, striking the Juggernaut. But much to his and everyone else's horror (save for the elf), his magic was reflected toward him. The flames struck him, sending him tumbling back and onto his stomach. His vision became blurred for a few moments as his mind scrambled to refocus itself. But all he could feel was the fire, the burning. Despite the pain, he forced himself back up, grasping at his Hestia knife still holstered to his lower back. He firmly gripped the hilt and unsheathed it. But before he could do anything else, his arm suddenly went numb.
At first, it didn't register. The world around him seemed to move in slow motion. He stood still, his breath hitched in his throat as he waited, dazed and confused. The splashing of water brought him back to reality. He looked to his right to see fresh blood spewing from a wound that had once been where his right forearm was.
He wanted to scream. Dear gods, did he want to scream. But the Juggernaut would not even grant him such mercy as a time to do so.
Disorientated from the surging pain pulsating from his nerves and the lack of internal equilibrium from the sudden blood loss, he vainly tried to parry the Juggernaut's attacks with his armor. But each blow ended up shattering the metal plating like glass, smaller bits of metal shards impeding themselves into his skin. Not even Asterius was capable of such raw strength.
Blow after blow, strike after strike. It all became a frenzied blur as he desperately fought for his life. Defeating the Juggernaut was beyond out of the question. All that mattered was staving off his demise. He tried to hold on for just a few moments longer. But eventually, his defenses grew sloppy, and his hold on life slipped from his grasp. The Juggernaut whipped its tail, striking the side of his neck.
Crack. Crinkle. Pop.
He heard the cracking of bone before being sent flying. The pain didn't even register to him as his consciousness faded into darkness.
His memory became a muddled fog of darkness after that point. He found himself phasing in and out of his comatose-like state. The legitimacy of reality became a constant question. Perhaps, this all could have been just a horrible dream. Yes, that would be nice. He would have liked that.
Somewhere in the distance, his torpid mind could still faintly hear the screams, the struggle—the death. But he could do nothing. A warm sensation briefly washed over his body a few moments ago, helping to numb and alleviate the pain. But that was all.
Suddenly, a gust of wind shoved itself against his frail body.
"BELL—!"
He heard his name being cried out just before he felt his body roll into the water.
Oh… that's right. Now he remembers. He's drowning, and his forearm is gone. He is trapped in the depths below, bound by a perpetual state of buoyancy and gravity. On the surface, people are dying, but he can do nothing.
Why does this always happen? Why does he always end up here, helpless and drowning?
Frail and vulnerable, he is constantly reminded that he is still but a child. An afraid, alone child. Comfort. He wanted comfort.
"Isaac…?" he meekly whispered in his mind. "Where are you…? Please… I'm scared."