Fleeing into the Depths
The shattered drone lay crashed on the floor, trembling faintly. Red light flickered intermittently through the melted casing. The acrid stench of scorched metal hung thick in the air—not just unpleasant, but clinging deep in my lungs. Every inhale scraped roughly at the back of my throat. The air itself settled heavy, like liquid.
More rushed in than my eyes could catch: the way the air warped, where heat lingered and where it had already cooled, even traces of danger woven through it all. It looked utterly wrecked on the surface. But certainty eluded me. This thing had hounded me moments ago. Strong didn't do it justice. It was overwhelming, rendering the very idea of response meaningless. No way it stopped this easily.
I slowed, sharpening my senses as I closed the distance. Had to confirm it was done. Zzt. A faint noise scratched the air. My body reacted first—no time to even register speed. The instant I judged I needed to stop, I already had. Mechanical whirring spiked, output surging. I twisted reflexively. As I slid sideways, scraping the floor, the spot I'd just vacated erupted in an explosion. Concrete cracked. Shrapnel flew. Heat grazed my back a beat late.
The sensation skimming my scales wasn't mere warmth—it pierced beneath the surface. One fraction slower, and that would've been it. Only after dodging did I realize my body had moved ahead of my mind. Stop, and you die. No room for more thought. I veered off trajectory—not straight, but bending with the flow, shifting directions to disrupt my pattern. The red light pursued, but this time it was different. I saw the air compressing ahead, the attack's path etched before it struck. All it took was veering microscopically off that line. That was everything.
The floor erupted in sequence. Shrapnel sprayed, heat drawing closer. The graze on my scales deepened bit by bit—a faint splitting of flesh. I didn't stop. Couldn't afford to. Then pressure crushed down from above. Not one. Two, three. Breath hissed short. Couldn't punch through head-on. Dao force depleted, body already a mess. Staying to fight wasn't bravado—it was suicide.
Flee.
I narrowed my senses. The cracked floor, the dark chasm below—it all flooded in at once. Stagnant water, rot, contaminated energy. Layers upon layers. I picked the safest path through it. There. I dropped low, hugging the ground completely. Cooled the heat in my scales, stilling my dao flow. Erased my presence as much as possible. The red light swept slowly overhead. Not mere vision—scanning, probing. Holding my breath wasn't enough. Had to erase my existence.
The brief moment stretched unnaturally long. Then it passed. I moved instantly, twisting with the flow and hurling myself into the crevice. Cold water enveloped me. Sewer. Rot hit hard—not my nose first, but my tongue. Air, water, tainted particles—all registered as sensation. Strangely, revulsion was minimal. Perfect for hiding, really. I submerged deeper, blending with the filthy water and stench. My body heat blurred, energy cloaked. Reactions from above faded. Tension eased—just a fraction. Not fully. Not over yet. I'd only survived.
Then something snagged below the surface. My gaze drifted down. A massive corpse. Catfish-like, but twisted croc-style. Ripped flesh, thick hide, life long gone. Utterly dead. But odd. A faint wriggle deep inside, barely perceptible. I traced it. Yodan. Extreme toxin crystallized in the yokai's rotting flesh. Concentrated essence. Swallow wrong, and your body melts. That's what my mind judged. Clearly.
But my body was already moving. Tongue tasted the air first. The condensed energy's allure hit before any poison warning. Something hot stirred beneath my scales. Not hunger. Deeper, more primal. An impulse this body knew innately. Devour. The word didn't form in my head. My body demanded it—tongue, gut, every scale pointing the same way. No room for judgment to intervene. Even if it tried, it wouldn't win. I exhaled short. Pushed forward. Burrowed into the rotting flesh. Sticky texture clung to my scales; tissue parted slowly, opening a path. Stench thickened, dizzying with every breath. Still, I pressed on. Toward the energy's core. Heart area. There.
Small. But dense. Pure concentration. No hesitation. Mouth gaped, and I swallowed. The instant it hit, it detonated. Energy burst outward, shredding me, burrowing under scales. Flesh melted. Insides flipped. Form collapsed. Uncontrollable. Beyond endurance. Body failed. Breath cut. At consciousness's fraying edge, a hallucination rang.
"That habit of yours again."
"I warned you not to strut like you'd grasped the world's truths just because you'd touched enlightenment."
"You don't even know what you don't know. That arrogance will be your undoing."
Consciousness snapped.
— "…Ha."
Breath exploded out. Body convulsed like a beast's. Inside still burned. Arrogant. I'd thought I knew. Drunk on past life's meager triumphs, believing I could control even this malformed yodan like before. No. My head believed that. This body had said otherwise from the start. I'd ignored it, yet followed it anyway. Me. This was the price.
Caught my breath briefly. No intention of stopping here. Nearly died, that's all. Seized the flow. Forced the rampaging energy down, smothering it with gathered dao force. Zzt. Collision inside. Twisted. Burst. "…Kgh." Pain surged again. But different now. Not enduring—seizing. Wrenched the flows, binding them forcibly into one. Scalding. Flesh melted beneath scales, then knit anew. Senses inverted. Body shed. Outer layer split. Scales burst, husk sloughed. Ripped free. New surface gleamed underneath—fluorescent dark, absorbing light like a void. Eerie. But stable.
Exhaled short. Pain lingered, but I'd passed it. Moved. Different. Muscles responded anew. Power transmitted efficiently, waste trimmed, precision honed. Tongue forked, slicing air. Smells, flows, temperatures flooded in—not as senses, but like reading grain. First time eyes opened, no legs felt wrong. No arms, wrong. Human height's world view too vivid; low vantage seemed false. Now reversed. Human form looked clumsy. Propped on limbs, eyes alone seeing, mouth alone tasting—missing so much. This body differed. Belly read vibrations on the floor, tongue savored air, scales swept temperature's weave. Senses spread body-wide, not focused. And it no longer felt strange.
Above. Felt it without seeing. Drone's position locked—movement, distance, sweep pattern. Surrendered to water. Flowed with it. No resistance. Dodging first now. Sewer's filth and rot? No bother. Ideal camouflage. Body cleaved water. Muscles outpaced mind. Not fully habituated. Still moved. Then—a foreign sensation brushed. Faint. Mistook for illusion first. Came again. Flow shifted. Acceleration hit. Not mere speed—water pressure shoved. Direction locked forcibly. Tried halting; wouldn't. Water dragged me. Gentle at first, seamless flow. Then intensified. Body yanked. Not down or sideways. Upward. Sewer's current reversed. Wrong. Massive collapse somewhere, pressure twisting wholesale. No time to trace cause—sucked in whole by the brutal pull. Speed mounted. Surroundings blurred, vision shook. Resist, and lose control to the torrent. Decision swift. Ride it. Don't fight. Use the flow.
Relaxed fully, syncing with velocity. Scales sliced water. Friction vanished, resistance gone. Body merged seamlessly. Speed transformed—not swept, but ascending. No full control, but choice made. Safer this way. Whoosh. Water jetted upward. Crack split, darkness yawned, air rushed in. Smell changed—not water. Dry, rough. Tainted, but distinctly different. Surface neared. Body accelerated. Final yank. Pop. Launched free. Out of the water.