Chapter 6: Sewer Preparation - Part 2
The sewer entrance gaped like a mouth in the city's underbelly. Stone steps descended into darkness, the smell of rot and standing water rising to meet me.
I stood at the top, checking my gear for the fifth time.
Sword on hip. Check. Silver dagger—borrowed from Aldous with strict return requirements—tucked in belt. Check. Oil flasks in my pack, padded to prevent breaking. Check. Torches bundled and accessible. Check. Rope coiled at my side. Check. Annotated map folded in my pocket. Check.
My hands trembled.
"Low-tier threat. Basic monsters. Manageable with preparation."
The trembling didn't stop.
"You planned for this. You researched. You trained. Now execute."
I descended.
The torchlight pushed back darkness that seemed almost alive. Shadows retreated reluctantly, clustering at the edges of my illumination like predators waiting for weakness. The walls glistened with moisture, slick stone that would be treacherous if I needed to run.
"Don't need to run. Need to control the engagement."
The first junction matched my map. Left tunnel led toward the docks—shallow water, low ceiling. Right tunnel angled toward the central chamber. Straight ahead dead-ended at a collapsed section.
I took the right tunnel.
Sound traveled strangely underground. Water dripped in distant rhythms. Something scurried across stone—rats, probably, but my hand found my sword hilt anyway. Every splash made my heart jump.
Then I heard it.
Croaking. Low and guttural, like a frog the size of a dog. Then another voice answered it, farther away.
"They know I'm here. The light gives me away."
But light was non-negotiable. Fighting drowners in darkness was suicide.
I reached the narrow passage my map had marked—a choke point where the tunnel compressed to half its normal width. Perfect for my plan. I set down the torch, lodging it in a crack where it would stay upright, and uncorked the first oil flask.
The liquid spread across the water's surface, dark rainbow patterns catching torchlight. I retreated three steps, drew my sword, and waited.
The croaking grew louder. Closer. Multiple voices now, calling to each other in whatever language drowners used. Hunting calls.
Two shapes emerged from the darkness.
Humanoid, but wrong. Grey-green skin slick with slime. Bulging eyes that reflected torchlight like a cat's. Webbed hands ending in claws that could tear through leather, through flesh, through bone if they connected properly.
They saw me. Screamed—a wet, bubbling sound—and charged.
I ran.
Not far. Just back around the corner, where a second torch waited. The drowners followed, drawn by movement and hatred, splashing through the narrow passage.
I dropped the second torch into the oil.
Fire bloomed across the water's surface. The drowners shrieked, different now—pain instead of hunger. One thrashed through the flames, skin bubbling and blackening. The other retreated, but the fire had spread too far. It collapsed at the tunnel's edge, twitching.
"Two down. Six or seven left."
The burnt drowners stopped moving. I approached cautiously, sword extended, and put a thrust through each skull just to be certain. My hands shook worse than before, but the blade found its marks.
[COMBAT LOG]
[Drowners Eliminated: 2]
[Method: Fire trap (oil + torch ignition)]
[Status: No injuries sustained]
Relief flooded through me—followed immediately by fresh adrenaline as the Danger Sense triggered.
[DANGER SENSE ACTIVATED]
[Threat detected: 4 meters, left side]
My vision flashed red. I threw myself right, rolling across wet stone, and claws whistled through air where my head had been.
Third drowner. It had come from a side passage I'd marked as collapsed. The rat-catcher's information had been incomplete—or the collapse had been cleared since she last checked.
"MOVE!"
I scrambled to my feet. The drowner lunged. My sword came up more by instinct than skill, catching claws on the flat of the blade. The impact jarred my arm, nearly tore the weapon from my grip.
"Too close. Too fast. Can't fight this thing fairly."
The silver dagger. In my left hand before conscious thought completed. Aldous had given it to me for emergencies.
This qualified.
The drowner pulled back for another swipe. I stepped inside its reach—stupid, reckless, exactly what training said not to do—and drove the silver blade into its throat.
The scream that followed was unlike anything I'd heard. Silver burned supernatural flesh, sizzling like water on hot metal. The drowner thrashed, claws raking my leather padding, tearing through to skin beneath.
I twisted the dagger and pulled. The creature collapsed.
[DANGER SENSE UNLOCKED]
[Passive Ability: Threat detection within 5 meters]
[Warning will trigger automatically when hostile intent is detected]
[Note: Ability is passive and cannot be deactivated]
The notification barely registered. I was too busy staring at my left forearm, where three parallel gashes oozed blood through torn leather. Not deep—the padding had done its job—but real wounds from a real monster.
"First blood. Mine."
I retreated to a dry alcove, pressing my back against stone that felt solid and safe. My breath came in gasps. My hands wouldn't stop shaking. The sword felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.
"You're fine. Scratches. Nothing serious. Breathe."
I forced myself to eat. Dried meat from my pack, tasteless and necessary. Water from my skin, warm and stale. The motions of survival while my body processed what had just happened.
Three drowners dead. Maybe five or six remaining. My fire trap was spent—only two oil flasks left. The silver dagger had proven its worth, but it was a close-range weapon. Getting that near to a drowner again might not end as well.
"Ten minutes. Give yourself ten minutes, then keep moving."
I counted breaths. In for four, hold for four, out for four. A technique from my old life—stress management from corporate workshops, now applied to monster-infested sewers.
The absurdity almost made me laugh. Almost.
[QUEST PROGRESS: Clear Drowner Nest]
[Eliminated: 3/8 (estimated)]
[Health Status: Minor injuries (left forearm)]
[Equipment Status: Sword (functional), Silver dagger (functional), Oil (2 flasks), Torches (4 remaining)]
Eight minutes gone. The shaking had slowed to occasional tremors. The wounds had stopped bleeding, clotting naturally. I could move. I could fight.
I could finish this.
I stood, checked my weapons, and oriented myself on the map. The central junction lay ahead—the largest chamber, the deepest water, the most likely location for the remaining nest.
"No more ambushes. No more surprises. Control the ground, control the fight."
The tunnel stretched before me, darkness pressing against my torchlight. Somewhere in that darkness, drowners waited. They'd heard their kin die. They'd be angry, defensive, desperate.
Good. Desperate enemies made mistakes.
I started walking.
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