The water was shockingly cold. He had seriously misjudged the height on it, it felt like getting kicked a dozen times by Rhonda Rhousey. The impact had pushed all the air out of his lungs, and he broke the surface almost immediately, gasping for air, and that was his first mistake.

Red, red bugs were swarming down towards him, close enough that he could see their gnashing mandibles and claws, and Cillian promptly dropped right under the water a second time before he even got a good breath. The bugs came to a halt just above the surface, buzzing and buzzing around where he had disappeared. Cillian decided to just let the current take him away from them, the water pushing him left, right, around and around as his cloak snagged on debris at the bottom of the river. He almost considered ditching it, but that was probably a bad idea. He’d likely need it, but he was also suddenly very much aware of his blood leaching into the water.

Oh, hopefully there would be no more fucking fish. Though, in hindsight, he would probably be hunting for a while, and would need something to eat. Maybe it would be better if he was randomly attacked by toothy fish right now.

The current was dragging him along, but now the water was deep enough that he wasn’t bumping along the surface. He had no idea how far away the bugs were, or if they could continue the hunt or not, or if they were smart enough to follow the flow of the river. They had to be, like, divine beetles or something, right? So they had to be special? Did that mean they were smart enough to go downstream? Should he swim upstream?

Oh, his lungs were burning. How long should he hold his breath? Should he reuse Rewind now or save it? He didn’t have much mana to waste. He should save it for if they followed him, right?

He was overthinking things again. It was a fatal flaw, but he couldn’t catch a glimpse of the bugs through the murky, churning water, and wasn’t it getting faster…? Like much faster?

He couldn’t breathe. He needed to breathe desperately. His chest was burning and tight and there were spots in his vision, but he couldn’t break the surface yet. But he really, really needed to.

Some structure was in the water ahead. He could see shapes, dark columns, and he kicked towards it as the water started to pick up around him. Was that a bridge? It should be safe to come out there, right? He could cross to the other side and get moving away from the bugs. Also, what was it with this dungeon and getting him wet? Was this a sign he should have showered more?

His lungs really were burning. He felt a bit lightheaded, and the water was moving faster and faster, to the point where he felt a bit out of control. He couldn’t kick and angle himself. The current had him firmly in his grasp, and he couldn’t help but think about all of the stories of drowning he had heard about as a child. He swam in the river all the time, and warnings had followed him everywhere.

His chest hurt, and he smacked against a boulder in the water sticking way too far up. The blow drove all of the air out of his chest, and he inhaled on instinct, only succeeding in burning pain as water poured down his windpipe. Oh, he was going to drown. This was how he was going to go out, jumping off a cliff to get away from some fucking bugs.

Cillian smacked into a pillar and clawed at it, breaking the surface with a series of coughs and hacks. He clung to the pillar of stone like it was his only salvation as his eyes burned and water was expelled from his lungs all over smooth bricks. Bits of bile came up and he heaved as the water swirled around his hips.

He was out of the water, and the bugs were nowhere to be seen.

He was safe. Instinct had him wanting to pass out, but self preservation had him pulling himself painfully out of the water to sit on the ledge and stare up at the crumbling bridge above him.

“That doesn’t look structurally sound,” he said, his voice raw and rough and very ‘gender’. He smiled dimly and closed his eyes. Never got old. You win some, you lose some.

For a second, he just focused on breathing, in and out, his head spinning in pain.

He would probably be stuck here for a few days, he thought dimly. The time spent not hunting should be filled with training, not that he knew anything about that. He hadn’t set foot in a gym since high school. Ah, he was probably going to injure himself.

“Status window,” he ordered.

CILLIAN JAMES

LEVEL 7

STR 21 (18+3)

DEX 21

INT 15

WIS 18 (15+3)

MANA 24

VIT 15/43

LUCK 159

SKILLS: TIMELORD, REWIND

STAT POINTS TO ALLOT: 0

ITEM BOX: 0 ITEMS

Okay, his vitality was low. He would have to lay low and see if it went up, or if that was it for the entire dungeon. Hopefully not. If that was the case, he would definitely die. That done, he went to check his injuries.

His right ring finger was intact, but definitely mangled and bleeding sluggishly. It had bitten clean through his nail, which would take time to heal, and probably get infected. The bite continued down past his knuckle, but the joint itself wasn’t damaged. He could bend it with minimal pain. That was great. As for his neck… A huge chunk of skin had been ripped off, starting from the middle of the back of his neck and stretching around to the front of his throat. That would make an ugly scar, not that he really cared about scars. Even so, feeling around the edges of it was concerning to him. It wasn’t going to be pretty.

Julius Strange has requested to accompany you.

Y/N?

Cillian stared at the notification for a long, long moment.

It almost felt mocking. Actually, it definitely felt mocking. He blinked once, twice, and pursed his lips. Julius had tried to warn him about the tree before, he was pretty sure, but what if he was trying to come in to get him to do it? He didn’t know this person’s intentions, but if they were bad, he could just ignore him, right? Cillian didn’t even know what accompanying entailed.

Oh, gods, that was annoying.

With a defeated sigh, he pressed ‘yes’, and nothing happened. A long silence stretched out, and the pop-up disappeared, and… nothing.

Well.

That was anticlimactic---

Cillian screamed and promptly tipped directly into the water.

The holographic image next to him slowly bent down and stared at him, arms crossed, looking decidedly displeased as Cillian splashed about and scrambled to grab onto the lip of the ledge. He was tall. Very tall, at least 6’4, with blonde hair and green eyes, dressed in a sharp three-piece, expensive-looking suit, complete with a watch and cufflinks. Wing-tip shoes, with nary a hair out of place; he practically stank of wealth and privilege.

Cillian spluttered, spitting out water that went right through the glowing image, and the man tilted his head even more.

“Julius?” Cillian gasped as he clung to the edge, and Julius stared down at him, clearly thoroughly unimpressed, then gestured for him to get up.

“You’re going to get bacteria in your injuries,” the man said, and Cillian tried, unsuccessfully, to pull himself out of the water.

“It’s already a lost cause,” Cillian said and dropped his head on the stone. “Were you trying to warn me about the tree?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t seem happy to have a companion.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” Cillian snapped, and Julius stared down at him.

“Well, Cillian James of Boston, that means you are blessed by the Managers of Babel to have a mentor that has already survived once,” Julius said flatly, and Cillian picked up the slightest hint of a Southern drawl. “Count yourself lucky you were chosen as a ‘high survival chance’ candidate, though I truly cannot imagine why.”

“What?” Cillian asked. “What’s Babel?”

“The Tower. We call it Babel,” Julius replied and made to lean against the pillar, his shoulder clipping through only barely as he watched Cillian struggle to get up. “When you meet the others, you’ll be able to speak a universal language. So. Babel. Man’s hubris made real.”

“I’m going to meet others?” Cillian asked as he tried to get a foot up, wiggling his way up to the ledge so he could sprawl out, heedless of his foot going directly through Julius’s shin.

“Yes. Did you think you went through the entire Tower without human contact?” Julius subtly moved out of his feet, but Cillian didn’t think that was worth taking offense over.

“That would have been ideal,” Cillian replied and flung an arm over his eyes. “So, you survived once?”

“Yes,” Julius replied. “Successfully ensuring your survival means I’m granted a gift. You’ll have an opportunity like this, too, if you’re not a coward.”

The way he said ‘coward’ seemed to imply he thought Cillian’s odds were incredibly low, and Cillian lifted his arm to eyeball him.

“So, what are the rules?” he asked rather than deign to respond, because he must have looked pretty pathetic up until now, so he could allow that much.

“Quick on the uptake,” Julius drawled. “Surprising.”

“Just tell me the rules.”

“I cannot reveal knowledge of other levels prior to you reaching them, or knowledge of the nature of Babel. I cannot assist in combat beyond pointers. I cannot interact with the world around you, and only you can see me.”

The chain of the amulet was rubbing against his raw, throbbing throat, and Cillian sat up to adjust it.

“Can you tell me about The Writer’s Secret? This… weird amulet thing?”

“I know nothing of the Writer’s Secret, but Selected occasionally get gifts from Babel tailored to their life experiences outside of the Tower,” Julius responded immediately and tilted his head. “It was untradeable, yes?”

“Yes,” Cillian confirmed as he held it out and watched it catch the light.

“So, you were a writer,” Julius murmured, a look of obvious distaste on his face.

“What, got a problem with artistic types?” Cillian demanded, and Julius stared down at him as if he was nothing more than an insect.

Oh, this was not going to go well.

“You need to find the right kinds of herbs to prevent infection. Let’s go,” Julius ordered. Then, he phased directly through the wall and began walking across the water to the next platform on the other side of the river. “Those bugs will keep hunting you.”

Great. Cillian had a ‘mentor’, and the dude was a massive, rich prick.

Just great.