Despite the worry gnawing at my gut, I decided to chalk it up to anxieties about finally engaging in real training. I’d have to fight, have to take some nasty hits, have to engage in… team building exercises.

All of my least favorite things. Combined.

Contrary to my discomfort, Shea avidly swam about his soldiers, putting us in teams of two, preparing for the next stage in his training. He had explained it earlier, but I didn’t quite catch what it was about, thanks to my body’s decision to spoon feed me an overwhelming sense of dread. I knew it was something about teamwork and combat. Only one of us would receive a weapon, and that person would then be blindfolded, completely reliant on the other member of their duo to lead them to victory.

“Alright, men!” Shea yelled out, his voice strong, commanding and somehow comforting. “Today we learn the first step in moving like a unit, and that revolves around trust. I know it's hard for a lot of us to be reliant on someone, but here we need to be. Always. There are no games in war!”

He then flipped over, heading into the ship.

We followed his lead, kicking around the scattered wreckage of the ships, moving through the broken masts and tattered sails that loomed in the water. Most of these Overworld abominations had been reclaimed by the ocean. Seagrass haphazardly nestled within the wood, and anything cloth was consumed by the ever-expanding coral.

“Now, for the blindfolds—”

Before Shea could finish his next command, a deep, thunderous boom echoed through the water, sending shockwaves that rippled toward us. I watched my platoon leader instinctively flinch, covering his head with his hands and turning away.

Oh no.

This… was not part of the training. The ground trembling beneath my tail, the cannons sounding from afar—they were all real. I was about to be thrust into a warzone on my second day in the field. A warzone I didn’t even know we were traveling to. Another explosion followed, closer this time, and debris from the kelp walls surrounding us flew into the water, darkening the blue with swirling brown and yellow silt.

“Everyone, scatter!” Shea’s voice cut through the chaos as he threw up his hand. A faint, golden, glowing spittle shot out of his fingers, growing brighter as it coated his hand and snaked around his arm in a wayward motion. This was different from the magic I had seen him use before—this was a defensive spell.

[Shea Sonas has activated Arcane Surge: Shield.]

A dome of flaring light spread out from Shea’s palm, surrounding us in a protective barrier. It held, deflecting debris and muffling the sound of distant explosions, giving us time to disperse.

With a kick of my tail, I propelled into an infirm area of the boat, most likely an old hallway that had decayed to the point of having interior windows. I could make out the intruders, just barely. They were part of the rebel sea dogs for sure—I recognized the silhouettes of their hats from my father’s old notes and drawings. Every movement they made was sleek, fast, like sharks on a feeding frenzy, using the current to carry their spears in unpredictable patterns. True renegades, soldiers that had been fighting Neptune’s relentless forces for years, seeking to destroy the empire from within.

And now, seeking to destroy me.

I clutched the spear in my hand, staring at the sharp point for a moment. If someone came at me, I would have to defend myself. I would have to kill them. Could I really… do that? Could I really sink my weapon into someone’s heart and take their life?

“You should be ashamed of yourselves! Attacking my platoon during training!” I could hear Shea hiss from afar, only able to make out his form thanks to the cluster of drifting jellyfish behind him, their tentacles glowing softly as the tremors sent them scattering. He was covered in soot and bearing the brunt of the attacks for us, despite not having a weapon of his own.

Gah. That’s right. I had his spear. He was going to be my partner, he was going to guide me as I donned the blindfold.

[Shea Sonas has activated Arcane Surge: Shield.]

[Shea Sonas has activated Arcane Surge: Shockwave.]

[Shea Sonas has activated Mana Flow.]

My System Screen dinged incessantly, updating me on each and every choice my platoon leader was making. I watched as Shea shot upwards, before a flash of yellow light erupted from his palm, slamming a wave of compressed water into a small grouping of rebel fighters. The mermen crumpled under the force of the attack, their bodies spiraling into the abyss below.

But for every rebel that Shea felled, two more took their place. His Mana Flow tried its best to keep up, ripping any magic energy from the air, each successful nab causing the shimmering light around his arm and the luster of a body shield around us to glow brighter, but… it was clear that even that had its limits.

Another explosion rocked the clearing, sending more debris hurtling through the water. The protective barriers around us flickered, cracks appearing in the yellow gloss.

“Fall… fall back! Everyone, into the shipwreck!” Shea commanded, his voice tight with strain. I could tell he needed us close, needed us near him to make sure we were safe. His magic was fading, each mana suction bending the water around us, creating a pocket of air so dense I could feel it pressing into my skin and slowing my movements. “Find me!”

Upon hearing his command, all of his platoon members made a mad kick for the hull. Rebel soldiers watched the chaos unfold, throwing tridents and spears at anyone not hidden by cover, anyone who dared to take the short way to their lieutenant. I watched as one of ours went down, a spear through his side, blood mixing with the swirling debris.

Oh…

God.

I wanted to move, I wanted to go so, so badly. But I… I couldn’t do it! I couldn’t get up. I couldn’t convince my muscles to unclench, couldn’t convince my tail to unfurl and…

And…

And!

Another sharp cry pierced the water, and I turned just in time to see Rory shoot out of the wreckage with an older platoon member—Kellan. Only one of them was armed, and the other carried a piece of driftwood, serving as a makeshift shield. Rebels advanced on them quickly, and Rory swung fast, hard, but it was futile. A blast sent the two tumbling, the trident slipping from his hands and immediately being swept up by one of the assailants. A plume of blood and soot billowed out of someone’s side, momentarily masking my position.

An opening.

Go, Firth, go!

With a painful bout of force, I thrust myself out of the hallway and swam as if my life depended on it—which it did. I kept low, my belly brushing the floor, darting through swirling silt and debris. Explosions echoed around me, but, at this point, I paid them no mind. The unceasing ringing in my ears drowned everything out, including enemy tail swooshes. 

[New Mission: Survive the Ambush.] 

[Objective: Come out alive and able to continue serving in Neptune’s glorious army.]

[Reward: +10 Emergency Rations.]

WHAT?

I stared at the System Screen pop-up that decided to cloud my vision during a time like this, asking me the most egregious of things. This… was considered a Mission? A Quest? And… and all I get for not dying are ten emergency rations?

What a joke!

I flailed my arms in front of me as I swam, attempting to clear my vision of the cold, unfeeling blue box in front of me. But, instead, all I did was click Accept, and then Decline, and then Accept again, leading to about forty of this pop-up to show:

[PANIC: Temporary debuff. Leveling and skill progression disabled.]

THEN WHY EVEN GIVE ME THE STUPID POP-UP IN THE FIRST PLACE?!

Finally, I made it to the hull of the sunken galleon. As I entered through a narrow gap in the wall, I could feel the splinters digging into my skin, pricking hard and sticking in. My fellow platoon mates squeezed and squished behind me, eager to find momentary refuge with their lieutenant.

“We’re missing one.” Shea said, looking at our huddled forms as we sat among broken beams and waterlogged chests. “We’re missing Iessaí.”

“He was struck, sir. But he’s alive.” Rory answered, and Shea grimaced. I could tell that that was not the answer he had been wanting to hear. Perhaps he was going to try and make a great escape from the back of the boat and urge us all to retreat. It would be in character for his reputation, after all.

Valuing the safety and comfort of his members over Neptune’s successes.

But knowing one of his youngest members was currently in enemy territory, wounded and alone, made it impossible for Shea to consider running. No. He couldn’t abandon that boy. But he could convince his platoon to leave and let him handle the fighting.

His eyes flitted to a hole in the wall, surveying the outside of the ship.

Surrounded.

Inside and out.

It seemed there would be no compromise. He would need to fight with us by his side.

“This isn’t the end. We’ve trained for this. We’re members of Neptune’s army, and you’re my foot soldiers. We’re going to get out of this alive.” Shea began, his voice carrying through the gloom. “You all are fairly new, fairly young. And I’m sorry I’ve gotten you all into this situation. But I’m going to make it right, going to take you all to safety. This is just another test, okay? And like every test before, we’ll pass it.”

Another explosion rocked the shipwreck, a jagged piece of wood whizzing past us. The debris barely missed Shea, but a thin line of blood trickled down his arm. I could feel a strange pulse in the water, a hum that vibrated in my bones.

“This area is on the verge of collapse. We need to go, we need to push forward.” Shea said, beginning to straighten up. “I know we’ve all got lives to go home to—so do I. I want to see my wife again, want to see my baby grow up. So believe me when I say we’re getting out. Use the wreckage for cover, and if you’re unarmed, stick with someone who isn’t, or grab a sharp board.”

The team nodded, keeping low and searching the ground for any pieces of useful driftwood.

Shea then stood up, a sharp, whistling sound following. A shadow shifted, and a rebel soldier appeared out of thin water, camouflaged by the ship’s decayed hull.

I turned just in time to see a spear cutting through our safe haven, aimed right at him. Right at Shea.

“Sir!” The word ripped through my throat, but it was too late. The spear hit its target, piercing through Shea’s chest with a sickening thud