Rex didn't see the creature move—he only felt the impact.
Something struck him square in the core, so fast and heavy that his whole body folded around the blow. His lungs collapsed, and a burst of dark red bubbles shot from his mouth. Pain exploded through him.
He tried to swing back, but the water around him felt like wet concrete. The pressure in this valley was far beyond anything he'd trained for—his limbs dragged sluggishly while the thing before him moved like it had grown up in this crushing darkness.
Another strike. He didn't even track it—he only felt the shock tear through his ribs. Then the world tilted as he was flung across the valley like a ragdoll. He slammed into a distant stone wall so hard the sound vibrated through his skull. Bones cracked. His vision flickered. His body folded slowly away from the rock, sinking.
Just before consciousness slipped, something gentle—shockingly gentle—wrapped around his waist. Smooth hands, webbed fingers, pulled him quickly toward a crevice hidden among the stone. The world narrowed to a tunnel, then blackness.
He faded in. Rough stone beneath him. Faded out. Cold water dragging him through twisting tunnels. Out again. Bioluminescent light. Something brushing his cheek. And finally—full consciousness.
Rex blinked up at a ceiling of shimmering blue-green light. His chest burned, but the pressure no longer felt like it was crushing his ribs. When he looked down, he saw he was wrapped tightly in bands of glowing seaweed, pulsing faintly like it was breathing.
Soft footsteps came through the water. Then a figure emerged from a side tunnel. A fish-person, humanoid but tall and elegant, with smooth scales along the arms and rows of faintly glowing dots running from temple to collarbone. Their voice was gentle and melodic:
"Easy… breathe slowly. Are you feeling any better?"
Rex managed a weak nod.
The being knelt beside him. "Good. The valley crushes outsiders. It almost crushed you. But we saw your struggle and pulled you inside."
Rex swallowed. "Where… is this?"
"You are in Dumrakar'uun," they said. "The Hollow of the Deep Road. Our home."
They helped him sit upright as they explained: generations ago, before the calamity reshaped the oceans, their ancestors were dragged into the abyss by a violent current. Most should have died. A few didn't. They adapted—lungs reshaped for crushing depths, eyes for dark water, bones for pressure. Over centuries they built this refuge of stone caverns and glowing vegetation.
"We farm," the fish-person continued, "algae, coral gardens, deep-fruit. But we also train hunters. Monsters roam outside—vast ones. If we did not fight them, Dumrakar'uun would fall."
Rex nodded weakly. "Makes sense. My settlement hunts too."
The fish-person smiled gently. "Then you understand balance. Good. Come—if you can stand, I will show you our hollow."
Rex leaned on them as they guided him through the cavern system. He saw terraced gardens glowing in blues and greens, pools where young Dumrakar practiced breathing under pressure, massive bone windchimes carved from ancient monsters, and a central square lit by hanging bulbs of living jellylight.
Dozens of Dumrakar glanced curiously at him but didn't approach. Outsiders were rare but not feared—only handled with caution.
Eventually they led him to a large chamber where an elder sat in a throne of spiral shellstone. Their scales were silvered with age, glowing dots arranged in intricate patterns.
"This is our chief," his guide whispered.
Rex stepped forward and bowed slightly—then remembered he had no last name. "I'm Rex," he said simply. "Just Rex. My generation… most of us don't have family names."
The chief nodded. "Name is not blood," they said warmly. "Name is what you carry."
Rex exhaled, strangely comforted.
The chief continued, "You wish to leave this place eventually. To survive outside, you must learn to withstand what crushed you. And so we will help. Dumrakar'uun keeps no hostility—another sentient being is a rare gift, and balance demands kindness."
They pointed to a large archway leading into another chamber. "Inside is our training hollow."
Rex entered and felt his breath catch. The space was enormous—part cavern, part constructed arena. A large pool took up half the room, and beneath it he could see a pressurized chamber, its reinforced stone walls quivering under immense force.
His guide explained, "That chamber simulates the valley. The hunters train there before facing the monsters."
The water rippled—and a tall, powerful Dumrakar swimmer surfaced. Their eyes were a bright, dangerous silver. Scars webbed their arms.
"This," the chief said proudly, "is Master Varrun of the Deep Coil. He will train you. He survived the valley at twelve seasons old."
Varrun gave Rex a toothy, amused grin. "So," he said, flicking water off his claws, "you're the outsider who tried to fistfight a valley beast in raw pressure. Brave. Stupid. Fun."
Rex managed a shaky smile. "That's… probably fair."
"Good." Varrun pointed at the pressure chamber. "Once you can stand in there without breaking, we will see if you're ready to swim back out."
Rex's serpent uncoiled slightly in interest. He exhaled, nodding. Dumrakar'uun had saved him. Now they were preparing him. And soon—he would return to that valley. And he would survive it.