In a small wooden boat, near the border of the Deep and the Reef were two men, Jeg and Ret. A few days travel from the nearest island, the two were Divers; professionals who train their bodies not only to hold their breaths longer, but also withstand the overwhelming density of mana in the waters of the Reef. The two were here in search of sponges, as well as anything else they may happen to find on the Floor. Of course, they weren’t expecting too much, the mana at the Border, while strong, did not have nearly the density towards the middle of the Reef, nor the dangers one would find in the Deep. This made it a near perfect training ground for fresh Divers to learn, which happens to be just what Jeg is teaching Ret.

“I know this isn’t your first Dive, but it is your furthest, both from the land and into the Reef. Things will be different here, the most important thing to remember is not to use your mana to extend your breath anymore. Once you do, your body is gonna try and refill itself naturally, and once you open yourself up down there, you aren’t very likely to make it home.”

Ret had heard as much many times, but it felt so much more real this time. Looking at the water, he could almost see the sheer amount of mana in it, and this is barely past the border. The hum that seemed to come from the water, the prismatic colors that tint anything below the surface, he was reminded of both the beauty and the danger of a mana reef. He’d heard stories, seen the divers coming back to the village, burnt to the bone. The kind of damage you’d expect from a man trapped in a burning house, not from replenishing mana underwater. He’d even felt the Burn, once, Jeg took him out and had him hold his hand underwater, using his own to pull out just the slightest of Ret’s mana, and removing his hand once the Burn began. It was a feeling he made no plans to experience in the future.

Even still, Ret was excited. His first real Dive, something that would set him apart from the rest in the village, something that could even have him considered a low ranking adventurer in the cities. Where Ret the boy became Ret the man. Jeg stood up, followed shortly after by Ret, having to clench and unclench his hands just to calm his nerves. He kept playing what his teacher told him in his head. They were just gathering sponge today. Nothing dangerous in the waters, no need to worry, and once he got back to the village, he might even be able to ask for the Chief's daughter to be wed to him. Jeg would even vouch for him.

Jeg watched the boy, and seeing him slowly shake away his anxiousness, he nodded in approval. Grabbing his knife with one hand, his weight with the other, he filled his lungs and entered the water. The boy followed swiftly after, the splash above him confirming this. As they both slowly approached the bottom, they took a moment to survey in greater detail what they had seen from the boat. A large patch of sponge, growing on the skeleton of a coral was their target. After what felt like hours, even to Jeg, they reached the bottom, just five meters from their goal, and in a moderately sized patch of seaweed.

On the way over they both made a short detour around a hole, roughly a meter in diameter, though Jeg made a mental note of this hole for later. Once there they swiftly set to work, cutting free the sponge and dropping their weights, they followed their lines back to the surface. Climbing back onto the boat, the both of them. Ret began gasping for air, taking in huge lung fulls at a time, before falling on his seat and laughing for a short while. Jeg let the boy, after all, he remembered his own first Dive.

After Ret had calmed down some, he stood back up and grasped his knife once more. Taking up another weight, he waited for Jeg to dive back in, taking his own leap back into those beautiful, dangerous waters. His feet settling back into the sand once more, they followed the same route to the sponge as before, though this time he stepped too close to that peculiar hole from last time. His foot slipped, and he was horrified to find the weight pulling him down into that hole. In his blind panic, he even let loose his breath, despairing as he used his mana to desperately extend it. Knowing the Burn was about to set in the last thing he saw before he clenched his eyes shut was Jeg jumping into the hole after him.

Surprisingly, though, the Burn didn’t set in, even as he felt himself find the ground beneath him once more. Both he and Jeg stood upon the bottom, both using and replenishing their mana, neither beginning to boil from the inside out. Looking around, Ret found a hole to his left that he exited from. He stood up, finding there to be a pocket of air directly above him. Jeg stood up next, both looking around, confusion evident on both their faces. Reef caves weren’t uncommon, but something about this one very much was. Ret realized that not only was the concentration of mana obscenely greater than the Border they dived at, but there was mana corals growing in this cave.

Jeg was equally confused, the myriad colors dancing across the walls and ceiling were definitely what mana corals do in the dark. But how were they growing without the sun? Furthermore, While Ret could tell that the mana density in this cave was unnaturally high, Jeg knew that this mana was almost purely water mana, not the mishmash of primary, secondary, and even tertiary elements that is in the Reef above. The uniform mana type refilled his own mana without going berserk in his body, and is why the boy hadn’t dealt with the Burn. Still, none of that explained why this cave was so peculiar. And, Jeg hoped, that if they discovered that cause they could get more recognition than being a simple Diver. And so, they pressed deeper into the caves.

Under those waist high waters of the caves were a huge array of creatures, shrimp, starfish, small fish flitting along, even a young krait that swam by and a glimpse of what looked like a grouper disappearing behind a rock. This only added to Jeg’s confusion, however. How do so many different creatures, ones that would typically be elated to devour each other, not do so? Walking along further, this curious cohabitation continued, all the way until he reached the end of the cave. Preparing to turn back and investigate deeper, he saw another hole in the floor, another shaft to continue deeper. One deep breath and a short hop later, he reached what appeared to be another layer to the cave, the sights remaining similar to the first layer. Only now, there was a strange tickle at the back of his mind, a weird familiarity, a déjà vu that he just couldn’t place.

As Jeg continued deeper, lost in his own thoughts, Ret was frozen back at the entrance, standing face to face with what, curiously enough, appeared to be a kobold. Of course, Ret was no fool, he had seen a kobold once, and anyone knows that kobolds live far removed from the ocean. That still didn’t explain the suspiciously kobold-like animal directly in front of him. After rubbing his eyes, thinking maybe it’s just a trick of the light, he was shocked to find it still there, and it’s nearly intelligent eyes full of suspicion, curiosity, and savage humor. Ret decided to see what it would do if he gave it a slash with his sponge knife, getting into the closest thing to a fighting stance he can muster. Just as he gives the knife a swing, he gets thrown to the side by a mighty impact. Coughing and sputtering, he struggles to regain his breath, and to find his knife. Both were in vain, though, because even as he fights the searing pain of what he knows is likely a broken rib, he feels something sharp hack into his arm, the impact thumping into his already injured side, a crack resounding from the impact. Were he still lucid, he’d be certain this time that at least one rib has broken. However, by this point, Ret has already slipped into unconsciousness, a small mercy as the three kobolds gather around him, and begin to feast on their victory before his life fades, and body claimed by their home.

Jeg continued deeper into the second floor, both the mana density and his nagging sense of déjà vu, growing stronger with seemingly every step. As he walks, the water rises around him, already he’s having to fight the slight ebb and flow of the chest deep water. That is, until he stops, the path ahead forking into two.

One path, to the right, is lightless, barren of coral, and the creatures in the dark unknown to him. The other is bright, but that light details the steep drop, the path becoming submerged, and the length ahead unknown. Two paths, both seeming to warn him back, both with their own call drawing him forward.

Jeg turns left, walking forward and contemplating the amount of air he may need. Filling his lungs, and clutching his knife and his weight, he plunges back underneath. Jeg continues forward at a brisk, but steady pace. Conserving his air, he moves forward slowly, doing his best to make out where he will draw his next breath. Just as he decides to turn back around and attempt the path in the darkness, he feels something brush past his leg. Turning to look, he sees nothing but the reef around him. Jeg decides that he truly should begin making his way back, turning around to see a quick flash of silver dart past. Growing concerned, he forces himself to calm down, lest he run out of air before he can take his next breath. He takes his first few steps back towards the fork he came from, trying desperately to ignore the bump he received on the arm holding his knife.

Speeding up, he begins to realize how little air he has left, his chest is starting to burn, his vision starts going fuzzy around the edges. He picked up his pace, dropping his weight to instead swim. He starts kicking his feet, the lactic acid in them making them burn next. He’d already been using mana to extend his air, but in his panic he fails to realize he was running out of that too, never training much in mana capacity. He only noticed once he felt his limbs growing cold, fighting even the burning they felt as he desperately struggled to reach air. His sight lost focus, and he almost missed the long streak of silver that darted to his knife hand. Torn between dropping the knife, dodging, swimming up, and fighting; Jeg freezes, his head is already throbbing, he needs his next breath, needs it badly. He needs more mana, too, he’s overdrawing that, his muscles searing and his head throbbing from both oxygen and mana deprivation. That’s when he felt teeth sink into his wrist, needle-like, long, and sharp. Jeg screams, the bubbles dancing to the surface while the water eagerly rushes in to fill his now empty lungs. Even then as what little he could see was clouded by his own blood. He tries to fight it, or escape, or anything, and yet he can’t. His eyes flutter, his body stills, his mind stops, and he is gone.

The last of Jeg swiftly dissolves into motes of light, and the barracuda swims off with its prize, the newly sharpened and polished sponge knife that Jeg magnanimously donated.

Up on the surface, the calm waves gently rock an abandoned Divers boat, both occupants no longer of this world.