I was Drafted Into a War as the Only Human

Lucian continued to swim downward—his body slicing through the grey water as if in slow motion. The cold bit his skin like fangs, but he didn’t shiver. He didn’t even notice.

Because he couldn’t feel the cold.

Couldn’t think.

Not really.

His mind was fogged over, trapped in a waking dream. Every thought dulled, every instinct smothered beneath a strange, pulsing stillness. All he could hear was a whisper—quiet and thunderous at once- a voice that wasn’t quite a voice, echoing from somewhere far beneath his thoughts.

"Swim deeper."

It repeated over and over, like a lullaby whispered through bone. Lucian obeyed without resistance. It didn’t even occur to him to question the voice. In his fogged state, it felt like the desire was his own.

He kicked downward again.

Below him, shadows stirred.

Massive.

Terrifying.

They slithered through the murk like ancient beasts half-asleep, their forms impossible to define. Their outlines were so large that the ocean felt like a pond.

Each stroke of Lucian’s pale arms brought him closer.

His lungs began to ache now, the familiar pressure of dwindling oxygen building like a fist in his chest. But he didn’t stop or panic. Even with abominations circling in the deep, even as his vision blurred and spots swam at the edges, he kept going.

Unfeeling.

Unthinking.

Numb to everything but the whisper:

"Swim deeper."

Meanwhile, at the surface of the Grey Sea...

Bruma floated with labored breath, her massive frame trembling from exertion. Her legs churned beneath her like pistons, each kick fighting against the sea’s sluggish resistance to keep her and her unconscious cargo afloat.

"Damn it! Where is Lucy?!" she roared, voice ragged and hoarse.

Strapped across her broad shoulders were Fenric, Llarm, and Gindu—dead weight in the water, their limbs limp and heads sagging. On solid ground, their weight would’ve been manageable. But, suspended in this vast, frigid abyss, even Bruma’s monstrous strength was wearing thin. She wasn’t a swimmer—never had been—and every second she remained above water felt like defying death through sheer will.

To her left, Eri floated silently. The brown-haired cat beastkin hadn’t fallen under the illusion like the others. She remained eerily calm, her body cutting the water with silent precision. Her expression was unreadable, stone-faced, unmoved. Cradled in her arms was a small, quivering shape—Carlos.

The shadow pup didn’t growl or bark. He whimpered softly in Eri’s grasp, a series of high-pitched, pitiful noises muffled by the lapping water. His body shook, not from fear but from violent, penetrating cold. His sleek, shadowy fur flickered in and out like a dying ember, unstable and dim.

Bruma glanced at the two of them and allowed herself a small, tired smile.

At least they’re safe—for now.

But her relief was fleeting. She shifted her gaze eastward.

Far in the distance—barely visible through the thinning fog—rose the outline of an island. Two, maybe three miles away. It sat like a black tooth on the horizon, surrounded by a quiet veil of mist. At its highest point stood a crooked silhouette—an ancient, crumbling temple—the temple where Caelgorr the Hollow waited.

The fog hadn’t followed them into the sea. Why? Bruma didn’t know. Maybe Caelgorr couldn’t spread his influence here. Perhaps he didn’t need to. Maybe he thought they’d all drown, dragged under by the whispers or the monsters below.

Whatever the reason, Bruma wasn’t complaining.

"Eri," she said at last, her voice lower now. Strained. Dreading her own words.

The beastkin turned her head. Her dull brown eyes flicked toward Bruma, empty of expression. Her soaked hair clung to her neck in tangled ropes. When she answered, her voice was flat, mechanical.

"Yes?"

Bruma took a slow breath, chest rising and falling against the weight of the unconscious boys. She hated what she was about to say—but it had to be said.

"We can’t keep this up. Not much longer."

Her lips twisted into a grimace.

"If Lucy doesn’t come back in the next few minutes... We’ll have to leave him and swim to the island. It’s our only shot."

The words stung more than she expected. She liked Lucy. She saw something in him—something rare. A human with grit, humor, and fire. Someone she could follow.

But in that temple, buried beneath the stones Caelgorr guarded, lay truths she needed. Ancient secrets, forgotten knowledge, and answers. Her thirst for that history ran deeper than friendship.

She’d chosen her path long ago.

But Eri’s reaction broke through her quiet.

A twitch.

The slightest flicker of something human crept into her features—an ember of emotion in a face long drained of warmth. Her eyes widened, not in surprise, but in slow, icy fury.

She held Carlos tighter.

"No," Eri said. Her voice was razor-sharp. Final.

"We wait for the captain."

Carlos’s ears twitched suddenly. His eyes locked on the water below, wide and gleaming with fright.

The captain was in trouble. Deep trouble.

Lucian kept swimming downward, farther into the murky abyss of the Grey Sea, his oxygen thinning with every agonizing second. His limbs were heavy now—numb and sluggish—but still, he obeyed the voice in his skull. Deeper. Always deeper.

He wasn’t alone anymore.

The abominations no longer lingered below. They surrounded him.

If his Soulthread had been active, he’d have felt it—waves of emotion crashing into his spirit like a tidal flood. Hundreds—maybe thousands—of minds pressed in. Curiosity. Hunger. Malice.

Most of them were magical beasts, seething with power. Others were just lesser creatures—savage, primal, beastly. But all of them had one thing in common.

Faint sounds rippled through the water around Lucian—distorted groans, like ancient whales calling from beyond time. Beneath it all, a faint harmony echoed—a chorus of whispers, layered and warped.

They had noticed him.

One by one, the monsters drifted closer, slithering through the gloom like phantoms in slow motion, their bodies vast and formless in the dim light. Pale fins. Long spines. Mouths that opened too wide.

Something new had entered their kingdom, and they wanted a taste.

But Lucian’s mind remained shackled by the whisper. His vision blurred at the edges. His chest ached. Fire bloomed behind his eyes. His thoughts of swimming deeper began to slow.

And then—finally—it happened.

His consciousness wavered.

His eyes fluttered.

A hollow breath escaped his lips.

From the darkness, a massive shadow surged toward him—the largest yet. Its body was serpentine, half smoke, half flesh. And its mouth was a yawning canyon of death—rows upon rows of jagged, interlocking teeth spiraling inward like a saw. It opened wide, wide enough to swallow Lucian whole.

It came closer. Closer.

Lucian didn’t fight.

He couldn’t.

And just before the creature struck—

—his eyes rolled back.

He lost consciousness.