A mournful wail echoed across the exposed seabed. It was the Shellback’s alarm, a deep, resonant thrumming that vibrated through the very ground. Kael stiffened beside Mara, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his shortblade. “Dust storm, as predicted,” Tarvik’s ancient voice rasped from the Shellback’s high observation perch. “And something else.” His gaze, sharp as ancient coral, swept the shimmering horizon. “They’ve brought company.” Mara felt it too. Not just the abrasive grit beginning to whip across her exposed skin, but a dull vibration, a persistent tremor against her boot soles. More than the Shellback’s own ponderous movement, or the distant groan of shifting plates. A focused, rhythmic thrumming, growing louder by the breath. “The Deep-Dredge Gang,” Kael muttered, a grim set to his jaw. “Persistent bastards. How did they track us so far?” Tarvik hummed, a low, gravelly sound. “Their mounts. Shard-Runners. They evolve with the wastes. Their crystalline spines hum like a divining rod.” He watched Mara, an unreadable depth in his eyes. “They’re led by Gaven. The Dredge-King. A D-rank Awakened. Rarely seen this far from the Salt-Citadel’s outer reaches.” Kael glanced at Mara, a question in his eyes. “Shall we ready the Shellback’s defenses?” “They’d only pursue,” Tarvik replied, without turning. He looked at Mara. “You received a treasure, child. Now, a price must be paid.” Mara felt a knot tighten in her chest. Confronting the creatures of the Shallows was one thing. Facing other humans, scavengers driven by the same desperation she knew so well, was another. Hesitation pricked at her. “If fear holds you, step aside,” Tarvik’s voice held a cool, sharp edge. She met his gaze. Madness, cold and calculating, flickered within his aged pupils. His unspoken meaning was clear. Retreat was not an option. For her. For them. Turning, Mara walked toward the outer fringe of the Shellback’s defenses, the wind beginning to tear at her cloak. Kael watched her, a worried frown on his face. “You’d send her against them alone?” he asked Tarvik. “It’s reckless.” “If she cannot hold this line, she will perish,” Tarvik stated, his arms crossed. “Let her potential be tested.” Kael shook his head, a resigned sigh escaping him. “Still as unyielding as the deep-frozen brine.” Tarvik only watched Mara’s receding figure, unmoving. He held unwavering confidence in her, Kael knew. A dangerous, solitary confidence. Kael looked after Mara, a glimmer of interest in his gaze. ‘What strength do you truly possess, Weaver?’ ‘Old dog,’ Mara thought, bitter words swirling with the rising dust. The Dredgers were closing fast. She’d always known this day might come, facing desperate kin. Not today, though. Never today. Fortunately, her own strength felt solid. The Brine-Pocket Gauntlet felt heavy and potent on her arm. Her core resonated with latent power. She had ascended recently, her connection to the Shallows deepening. Distance still separated her from the approaching swarm. Mara took a deep breath, the air thick with mineral dust. She surveyed the broken landscape. Tarvik had taught her this: observe the environment, assess the opposition, then unleash imagination. ‘My weapon is the Shallows itself. The exposed seabed, the salt flats, all of it,’ she thought. Her command over it was still raw, mostly localized. But in this desolation, that alone held tremendous power. Forty, maybe more. She clenched a fist, the Gauntlet’s smooth surface cool against her palm. A hulking figure rode at their forefront, nearly a head taller than the others. His arms were crossed, no visible weapon. A martial Awakened, then. A man confident in his own brutal strength. That would be Gaven, The Dredge-King. His skill, Tarvik had hinted, was the Concussive Brine-Punch. He could strike the very air, generating shockwaves. A terrifying force in close quarters. His lieutenants, Kaelan and Malik, rode close. Both E-rank Awakened martial artists, armed with a Brine-Blade and a Salt-Cleaver, respectively. Reputed for their ruthlessness. Malice twisted Gaven’s face into a grotesque grin. “Finally caught. Heh.” Rumors swirled through the Shallows of the Shellback Fortress, a moving trove of ancient relics. Gaven had fixed his ambition on it. The immense, ancient creature was notoriously placid, its defense formidable, its attack negligible. Target the people, not the Shellback itself. That was his calculation. Raising a fist, Gaven roared, “Leave the Shellback. Kill the others. The plunder is ours!” A guttural cheer rose from the Dredgers. They spurred their Shard-Runners forward. Someone stood in their path. Mara. Alone. Gaven’s brow furrowed. The woman stood, radiating defiance. He spurred his mount. “Arrogant! Crush her.” The Shard-Runners accelerated. In moments, the distance between Mara and the Dredgers evaporated. Ten meters. That was the gap. Mara pulled her hood back, raising her head. Her gaze, cold and direct, met Gaven’s. An unsettling unease flickered in Gaven’s mind, too late to halt the charging mounts. Salt-crusted ground ahead of Mara groaned, then began to collapse. Fine grit and ancient shells churned. A gaping trench, roughly ten meters wide, a meter deep, formed in an instant. A churning pit of abrasive, corrosive salt. Shard-Runners and Dredgers screamed as they plunged headlong into the Salt Sinkhole. Camels ridden by Gaven, Kaelan, and Malik were the first to hit. But these were Awakened. They launched themselves mid-air, using their mounts’ backs as launchpads. They landed on the far side of the sinkhole, turning to face Mara. Behind them, the entire Deep-Dredge Gang floundered in the churning brine, many with broken limbs, crushed beneath their own mounts. A few struggled free, but collapsed, dazed or incapacitated. Gaven roared across the trench, “Coward! You prepared this trap!” “No need for words, Captain!” Malik snarled, his Salt-Cleaver flashing. “A soft one like this needs her head separated from her neck.” He charged, his katana-like blade humming with a crimson aura—infused with raw, brutal energy. Malik’s strike arced toward Mara’s neck, a swift, deadly slice. But a wall of crystalline salt, jagged and sharp, burst from the ground. The Salt-Cleaver struck the Brine-Shield instead of Mara. Aura-infused blow detonated against the mineral, shattering it into an explosive cloud of stinging dust, blinding Malik. Amidst the blinding particulate, a spear of concentrated salt shrieked through the air. A Brine-Dart. It pierced Malik’s skull. He crumpled, dead before he hit the ground. Kaelan, enraged by his comrade’s instantaneous demise, charged. His Brine-Blade glowed with a similar red aura, hungry for vengeance. Mara drew a deep breath. Her plan was unfolding. Cripple their mobility, inflict maximum damage, then eliminate their leaders. It had gone perfectly so far. Now, for the final, most crucial act. She raised her hand. Five strands of abrasive salt, like coiling, crystalline vines, rose from the ground around her. She flung them at Kaelan. A Salt-Spray, designed to flay. “Hah! I’ll carve this into—” Kaelan’s words were cut short. His scimitar-like Brine-Blade met the Salt-Spray, slicing through the expanding cloud. But the spray exploded, not into simple dust, but a blinding, stinging burst of concentrated salt and mineral fragments. As Kaelan thrashed, trying to clear his eyes, a guttural warning came from Gaven. “Below you!” Kaelan glanced down, his vision still swimming. A condensed spear of salt, hard as flint, shot from the seabed. A Brine-Dart. Too fast to dodge. It pierced Kaelan’s lower abdomen. He stared at Mara, an indignant fury in his rapidly glazing eyes, then collapsed, mirroring Malik’s sudden end. Gaven, who had lost his strongest lieutenants in mere moments, let out a roar of pure rage. He surged forward, his colossal frame shaking the very ground. Mara met Gaven’s gaze, her eyes cold, resolute. The showdown had begun. Time to execute the final stroke of her vision, the intricate dance of the Shallows’ power. ---

A Trench of Brine and Dust