Without so much as a warning, the diving bell plunged into the whirlpool, and the sunlit world outside the window turned into a blur of movement.

Thankfully, Marisol had thrown herself onto the closest bench next to one of the Imperators before water rushed up the window, distorting everything in sight. For a few seconds, the gas lanterns inside the bell flickered—plunging all of them into darkness—but then the sea outside glowed with a deep, otherworldly blue, fractured beams of bluish-whitish sunlight refracting through the glass. Bubbles trailed upward past the window. The giant kelps and weeds of the seagrass meadow slipped in and out of focus as they sank, and… for Marisol’s part, she was just gripping the railings over her head with both hands, trying not to be shaken off her bench.

It was a very shaky journey down. The interior of the spherical bell was adequately furnished with two benches on opposite sides, a large window on the sealed hatch, and a small round table between the two benches where a map of the whirlpool was pinned onto. Rusted cans of food, medical supplies, towels, and spare change of clothes were squeezed in compartments overhead and under the benches; all things considered, it was much less claustrophobic than Marisol had thought it’d be. The bell was quite spacious. There was more than enough leg room for her to stretch her glaives all the way to the opposite bench, and she could probably jump normally without hitting the ceiling.

Shame she was sharing the bell with three Imperators sitting next to and in front of her, glaring at her as they each held the railings above their heads with their pistol shrimp claws.

… Funny, old man.

Just put me in an enclosed space with the new recruits I beat black and blue two weeks ago, why not?

As they descended towards Depth Two at a slow, meandering pace, she averted her gaze and tried focusing on the whirlpool outside the window. Suffice it to say, the bubbles made it difficult for her to see anything clearly, but anything was better than–

“Do you think we’re trainee brats who can’t take a meagre loss?” the lady sitting right in front of Marisol sighed, shaking her head in exasperation. “We overestimated ourselves, and you beat us fair and square. It’s evident we still have much to learn.”

Then the three of them sighed once more in unison, extending their human hands at Marisol.

“I’m the eldest brother, Bruno,” said the burly, hazel-haired man sitting next to her. “I’m the dive leader for this patrol mission. I call the shots, and I decide if we have to abort the mission.”

“I’m the middle brother, Aidan,” said the slimmer, but still muscular man sitting across and diagonal from her. “I’m the orienteer for this patrol mission, which means I gather research samples and chart navigation data for the Imperators.”

“And I’m the youngest sister, Helena,” said the blond, braided-hair lady in front of her. “I’m a super new recruit, so I don’t have a designated role yet, but in a few months, I’ll probably be the team’s combat specialist. I’ll be frontlining any and all battles we’re forced to fight. I presume your Archive already told you about our Hexichor Art?”

Marisol blinked for a good few seconds.

Then she brightened up, shaking all of their hands with a cheery smile on her face.

“I’m Marisol Vellamira! I’m–”

“The Storm Strider,” they said in unison, but only Helene tilted her head as she regarded Marisol with a curious, bedazzled gaze. “The children in the lower city who witnessed your fight against the Mutant skeleton shrimp call you that. I’m pretty sure it’s a combination of your insect class and your Hexichor Art. The lightning… thing.” Then her gaze wandered down to Marisol’s glaives. “I didn’t think the rumours were true at first, but you do have the Water Strider Class. If you picked that voluntarily even after your Altered Hexsteel System offered you an alternative, you must be truly insane.”

“But now we have an excuse to explain why we lost,” Aidan said, nodding idly as he grinned at his sister. “Listen to this: we couldn’t have won! She’s a Hasharana! We’re just a bunch of new recruits! The kids in the lower city will totally accept our excuse, won’t they?”

“We’ll just need to bring you along to the lower city next time around,” Bruno grumbled, elbowing Marisol in the ribs and making her groan. “The moment the kids see your glaives, they’ll believe us. Our reputation as Imperators will be restored.”

“It’s decided,” Helena said.

“You’re coming with us after this mission,” Aidan said.

Then the middle brother and youngest sister high-fived each other while Bruno reached for an overhead compartment, pulling a box of skyball coral candies down.

“Our mission’s the same as ever: we’ll patrol Depth Two and run a full circle around the walls of the whirlpool,” Bruno said, securing the box onto the back of her harness. “The maximum duration of the mission is five hours, but patrols in Depth One to Three don’t usually last longer than three, even when there’s lots of research samples and navigation data to be collected. With you needing to rely on skyball corals for oxygen, it’s better if we finish this patrol in under two hours,” then he looked up at his younger siblings, scowling, “so no horsing around, you two. It’s the Storm Strider’s first mission.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Aidan gave him a mock salute while Helena nodded firmly. Marisol, on the other hand, was frowning up at the big man—more important than the details of the mission, there was something she wanted to rectify first.

“My name’s Marisol,” she said. “It ain’t nice to call a pretty lady like me the ‘Storm Strider’ or whatever. Just call me Marisol.”

It was Bruno’s turn to frown down at her. “But you are a Hasharana. All Hasharana have their designated titles.”

“Really?”

“Victor Morina is the ‘Sea Manic’, and you are the ‘Storm Strider’. All the other Hasharana currently scattered across the Deepwater Legion Front also have their own titles.”

[He does not lie,] the Archive added. [All registered Hasharana are given a codename so they are more easily identified in the heat of battle. However, given you are not actually a registered Hasharana, it would appear the three of them here have misunderstood something–]

“I’m Marisol,” she repeated, pursing her lips. “No ‘Storm Strider’. None of that. I’m just a random desert lady who got roped into this, okay?”

“... Very well,” Bruno said, shrugging in defeat. “With that out of the way, there’s… not much you really need to know about a patrol mission, really. It’s exactly as it’s spelled out. We patrol a full circle around Depth Two and return to this diving bell.” He pointed at an opened notebook nailed to the side of the bell, upon which countless drawings of aquatic bugs and crustaceans were pencilled onto the pages. “Typically, a patrol consists of the orienteer gathering research samples and navigation data while the rest of the team watches out for any abnormalities—that is, bugs appearing at a higher Depth than they’re supposed to be.”

“You’re supposed to memorise all the bugs and their usual locales in this notebook before you graduate from Harbour Guard Academy, but I don’t assume you know much, so just leave the identification to us,” Helen said, reaching past Aidan to yank the notebook off the wall before slapping it on the table between them. “The gist of it is, if we see a Depth Three bug in Depth Two, we exterminate it. If we see a Depth Four bug, then we run. It’s that simple.”

“We’re not playing hero, aight?” Aidan said, winking at Marisol. “The four of us together may be able to take down a F-rank Mutant, but that ain’t our job. We’re just patrolling, yeah? It ain’t worth it if we get seriously injured and some other team has to fill in for us for the next two weeks. Our pay’s gonna get docked to all hell if that happens.”

Marisol smiled nervously. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting when she’d been thrown into this diving bell, but the three siblings weren’t so bad to work with, she immediately thought—and that was right before the bell came to a sudden halt, gas lamps flickering for another second as she was nearly thrown off her bench.

Tightening their belts, their capelets, and polishing the chitin on their oversized pistol shrimp claws, the three Imperator recruits nodded at each other before Bruno reached for the locking wheel on the hatch.

“Pop your first skyball coral now,” Helena advised, patting Marisol’s hand while miming tossing a piece of candy into her mouth. “Depth Two’s underwater pressure will suck for the first minute or two, but Imperator Reina told us you’ve been doing pressure tolerance training for the past week, so… you should be okay? I think?”

“She’ll be fine,” Aidan said lazily, kicking the hatch and grinning at his older brother to open it already. “Two hours, in and out. We’ll be back to the surface before she even knows it.”

“I assume you can’t talk underwater either, so if you want to communicate with us, just shoot us a few hand signals,” Bruno said, reassuring her as he started turning the wheel and she frantically devoured her first piece of candy. “Our harnesses are set so that we’ll land on the walls of Depth Two the moment I open the hatch. Now, water won’t rush into the bell because it’s made out of the Worm God’s parts, but I’m going to push you out first so you don’t get a chance to get cold feet.” Then he tilted his chin up, chuckling at a funny thought. “I doubt someone who picked the Water Strider Class would be scared of a little water, though. I’m still gonna push you out first.”

“... What–”

The wheel turned, the hatch swung open, and a boot to her back sent her slamming face-first into a wall of water—and from there, it was ‘down’, ‘down’, and ‘down’, her gravity harness dragging her all the way down to the closest wall of the whirlpool.

It didn’t take long before she felt her glaives stabbing into solid ground—maybe ten, twenty seconds of relatively slow falling—but while she’d gotten used to the underwater pressure of Depth One over the past week, she could only describe that as ‘gentle’ compared to the crushing weight bearing down on her shoulders. Her vision blurred. Her hearing dulled. Her senses shut down as she was brought down to one knee, invisible hands tightening around her skull as though threatening to make her eyes pop from their sockets.

And you’re telling me… these Imperators… do this every day?

[They have mutations naturally suited for this,] the Archive said steadily, and faintly, she felt one, two, three people landing around her—the Imperators touched down on Depth Two without any issues. [Do not open your mouth. Do not try to breathe in. Remember: your skyball corals will provide you with more than enough oxygen for thirty minutes, so to get rid of all the pressure building inside you–]

Pinch my nose… and breathe out until I feel like I’ve equalised the pressure, she gritted her teeth, her shaky hands moving up to grab the bridge of her nose. If that doesn’t work… then pop another skyball coral to flush out all the nitrogen.

So she squeezed her eyes shut, tried to tune out the violent pounding in her head, and breathed as many bubbles as she could past her lips—and while it may have taken ten, twenty, or thirty more seconds, eventually, she did begin to adapt. The crushing pressure was no longer quite as suffocating, and the dizziness that spun her head round and round started to dissipate.

She flexed her limbs. She tightened and relaxed her muscles. Slowly, steadily, she began to move, and she could open her eyes to see now.

With her arms spread out, she straightened her spine and stood upright, slipping into the Sand-Dancer’s neutral pose instinctively.

…

A bit of nausea still ebbed away at her head, but she could think. Her ears were still filled with water, but she could kinda hear. Her skin still felt a little tight, but she could feel the Imperators slapping her on the back, fierce and faintly warm beams of sunlight falling on her face, and… she could see the vibrant colours stretching out in front of her.

[... Welcome to Depth Two, the Tropical Reefs,] the Archive said plainly. [Try not to disturb any of the locals around here.]