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VoC: B1 — 15. Into the Depths
🕑 Added 2025-06-25 23:27:42 +0000 UTCPoV:
1. Damon (Our New 24-Year-Old MC!)
2. Sophia (Our MC's 20-Year-Old GF!)
3. Damon
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Damon offered a respectful bow to High Cleric Sorrel Nightbloom, the pressure of her divine guidance settling into his bones like anchor stones. “Thank you, High Cleric. I understand what I need to do now.”
The emerald flecks in her amber eyes momentarily brightened, compassion radiating from her as she nodded. “Titania’s blessings go with you, young prince. Just as trees support one another with their roots when the unrelenting winds blow, you must trust in the bonds you forge—they will be your strength when the trials come.”
He smiled down at Copper as the cub sat on his butt, looking up at him in a studious way, learning from his behavior. His troublesome, pop-culture-obsessed baby sister’s sun elf face, pouty and spoiled, blossomed in his mind at the same time.
“I appreciate the advice,” he whispered, kneeling down to rub the bear’s ear. “Alright, bud, time to go.”
As he turned to leave the sacred grove with Copper padding silently beside him, Damon felt the magnitude of what lay ahead pressing down on his shoulders.
Yet, despite the guidance, the vision still burned behind his eyes, visceral and painful: Sophia, form shifting through shapes that weren’t her own, her mind fractured between human memory and something else entirely. Each day making her more lost to him.
The raw beauty of the Garden District—the living architecture, the silver bells chiming their ethereal melodies, the way flowers seemed to bloom brighter as they passed—all of it felt muted, like viewing the world through frosted glass. Every wonder that should have filled him with awe instead reminded him of precious time slipping away.
She’s out there, Copper. She needs me. His jaw clenched as they moved through the winding paths between buildings that breathed with organic life. Right now, while I’m here making deals with manipulative criminals, she’s losing more of herself. And Aria…
He almost tripped, suddenly feeling slightly nauseous as he held his stomach and stumbled to the side. He managed to catch himself against the side of a building, hand pressed against his chest as his heart suddenly sputtered—panic.
“Breathe… Breathe,” he hissed, coughing and fighting back the shakes. “She’s okay. She’s fine. One, two…”
He’d been forced to let his genius but emotionally volatile, seventeen-year-old sister loose in a hostile fantasy world where her sun elf pride could get her killed. In New York, even when money was tight and life was hard, there had been systems he could navigate, safety nets he could rely on for her. Here? They were completely exposed.
I can’t protect either of them anymore. Not how I am… Dammit.
The realization settled in his stomach like ice. No more hovering over Aria to make sure she didn’t get in trouble with her mouth. No more working eighty-hour weeks to keep them afloat.
Shut up, brain! He shouted internally, pressing his knuckles against his forehead. I have to trust her to understand this is not New York. And I have to somehow become strong enough to save Sophia before she’s lost forever… I have time. Relax. Relax…
Copper pressed closer against his leg, the bear cub’s dark eyes reflecting concern through their bond. The simple gesture helped ground him as he bent down to do something within his power, even as simple as stroking his fluffy fur.
That’s right, I’m not alone, am I, bud?
The cub pressed into his hand, guiding him to his neck to press harder.
Yeah, I don’t have the luxury of breaking down, Damon told himself, using both hands to rub Copper’s ears. After a short breather and his buddy’s support, he smiled, got up, and straightened his shoulders. They need me to be stronger than I’ve ever been. Failure isn’t an option. Focus on the present… If I keep working toward Sophia, eventually I’ll find her.
Continuing on, he felt Copper’s heart changing, becoming more stalwart as he silently projected his confidence in him. That helped. It helped a lot.
Not long after, they reached the edge of the district. The transition back to the ordered stone and rigid architecture of the main city felt jarring after the organic beauty they were leaving behind. Here, the very buildings seemed to radiate disapproval of his dark skin and pointed ears, but Damon barely noticed.
His mind was focused on a single objective: earning enough in the underground arena to build the resources he’d need for the journey ahead.
As they passed a shop window, Damon caught his reflection in the glass and stopped short. Despite everything—the transformation, the new world, the strange new body—his eyes remained unchanged. Hazel eyes that Sophia had always said reminded her of the warm brown-green of oak leaves in autumn, just when they begin to turn.
“Don’t cry…Hazel Eyes, I just want to love you in your troubled times,” he whispered, hearing her voice echoed in his memory, soft and teasing as she leaned against him in their small sedan that final night to kiss his cheek. “I just happen to have hazel eyes. Reading too deep? Totally…not a coincidence.”
Lips tucking under, he felt his previous confidence on shaky ground as a tear ran down his cheek, hot and cutting. The memory hit him like living fire. His throat constricted, and for a moment, the composed mask he’d been wearing threatened to crack entirely.
Hold on, Soph. I miss you. I love you. Just hold on a little longer. I’m coming for you.
* — * — *
Where…am I? What is touching me?!
Darkness. Movement. The sensation of countless things crawling over skin that felt wrong, foreign, not her own.
Sophia’s consciousness struggled to surface through layers of confusion and instinctual panic. Her body felt heavy, weighted down by something thick and viscous that clung to her like a second skin. When she finally managed to force her eyes open, the world that greeted her was a nightmare of shadows and writhing shapes.
The chamber around her pulsed with an alien rhythm, its walls seeming to breathe with a life of their own. Phosphorescent veins ran through the stone like arteries, casting sickly green light across surfaces that glistened with moisture. Everywhere she looked, creatures moved through the darkness—their forms constantly shifting, skin rippling and molding like wet clay being shaped by invisible hands.
Panic seized her chest as she recoiled, her brain wrapped in fog.
One creature near her sprouted additional limbs that withered and regrew moments later, the sound of crackling bone and stretching flesh making her stomach lurch.
I’m in hell!
Terror flooded through her as she tried to scramble away, but her movements felt wrong. Her limbs—were they limbs?—responded sluggishly, as if she were moving through thick honey.
Run! Run! Move!
The texture beneath her hands changed as she crawled—sometimes smooth stone, sometimes yielding flesh that squirmed at her touch. Her form shifted and changed with each movement, parts of her extending and retracting in ways that violated every understanding she had of her own body. The sensation was nauseating, like being turned inside out while remaining conscious of every horrible detail.
When she finally reached what looked like a pool of still water, she felt drawn to look despite every instinct screaming at her to flee. The liquid surface rippled with her approach, and when she peered down at her reflection, the scream that tore from her throat was inhuman—a sound that belonged to the writhing creatures around her.
The thing staring back at her had no fixed form. Its surface bubbled and contorted like molten flesh, occasionally sprouting appendages that split into three barbed tendrils before dissolving back into the mass. As she watched in horror, her mouth—if it could be called that—extended outward in a telescoping motion, revealing rows of needle-sharp teeth designed for purposes she didn’t want to contemplate.
I’m a monster!
“Mmrgmh!”
The unearthly noise of pain gurgled from her deformed mouth as memories crashed through her transformed mind like shattered glass: the nervousness in her voice that final night, the brown paper bag she’d tried to hide from him, the way Damon’s hazel eyes had widened with terror in the split second before the garbage truck slammed into her side of the car.
I…died. It’s my fault… It’s all my fault.
Golden tears—actual liquid that gleamed like precious metal—began streaming down her amorphous cheeks to drop into the pool like ink in pure water. And her first spoken words came out broken and distorted.
“My…fault. It’s my…fault,” she whimpered, her voice a distorted echo of what it once was, the words rippling through the water’s disturbed surface. The guilt that had been eating at her since that night in Hell’s Kitchen crystallized into certainty. “This is my punishment. I’m a monster… I’m in hell.”
The admission dissolved into sobbing as she called out for the only anchor she had left in a world gone mad: “Damon… Damon, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please…save me.”
Yet, all that met her was the disturbing pops and snaps of creatures writhing in the dark. Looking up, all she saw was four walls…a box.
“Damon, save me!” she screamed, blurry vision fading out as she fell into the pool, unable to move as if paralyzed, sinking into an endless oblivion. Come, please… Damon. I don’t deserve it. But, please… I need you.
Prison gates that wouldn’t open for her, and on her hands and knees, she closed her eyes, reaching for the only hope she had left. Her soul cried out as she felt like she had broken wings, falling into an endless abyss.
* — * — *
Damon straightened, wiping the last traces of moisture from his eyes as Copper pressed more firmly against his leg. Whatever was happening to Sophia, wherever she was, breaking down wouldn’t help her. He needed to focus, to build the strength and resources necessary to find her and bring her home.
“Come on, boy,” he murmured, adjusting his cloak and pulling the hood lower over his distinctive features. “Titania basically said my rat theory wouldn’t work with that vision. If your power will only come through a trial by fire…time to make some money.”
Following Ashcroft’s directions, he made his way through increasingly narrow streets toward the older section of the city. The buildings here were different—older, built from darker stone that seemed to absorb rather than reflect light.
As they walked, Damon noticed subtle changes in the architecture: symbols carved into doorframes that didn’t match the Holy Emperor’s iconography, and drainage grates that seemed far too elaborate for simple water management.
The very air felt different here, carrying scents of age and secrets that made Copper’s ears twitch nervously. The cub stayed close to Damon’s side, occasionally glancing at shadows that seemed to move independently of their sources.
It seems we’re not the only people with [Stealth], he noted,
They found the first sewer access point exactly where Ashcroft had indicated—a maintenance entrance disguised as a decorative fountain in a small plaza. The area was deserted except for a figure in a hooded cloak who gave Damon a meaningful look before melting back into the shadows between buildings.
Here goes nothing, Damon thought, approaching the fountain as Copper kept close to his side. Following Ashcroft’s instructions, he placed his hand on a specific section of the carved stone—a carving, depicting intertwined vines that felt warm to the touch—and spoke the phrase she’d given him: “The crown’s foundation runs deeper than law.”
The response was immediate. A section of the fountain’s base rotated silently inward, revealing a narrow staircase that descended into darkness. The air that wafted up carried scents of old stone, distant water, and something else—something that made Copper’s fur bristle along his spine.
Yeah, I need to tell Aria about this… Real cloak and dagger, but this is probably just old magic built into the city’s design. No less impressive. I’m living in a fantasy book.
As they descended, magical devices embedded in the tunnel walls began to glow with soft light, illuminating their path with an ethereal blue radiance. Damon paused to examine one of the artifacts—a crystalline structure that pulsed with inner fire, fragments of his royal education resurfaced, conflicting with his Earth memories.
A group of the Holy Emperor’s reincarnates supposedly designed much of the city with the royal family at the time… The Wizard, Sorcerer, and Artificer classes, I believe.
Copper yawned softly, rubbing his eyes at the shift from daylight to artificial light before studying the items. A few were even gouged out of the walls.
The device was roughly the size of his fist, composed of what looked like crystal that shifted and flowed while maintaining its basic shape. Geometric patterns danced across its surface in languages he didn’t recognize. When he reached out tentatively to touch it, warmth spread up his arm.
“Artificer work, I believe. What do you think, Copper?” he whispered, noting how the cub gave the crystal a wide berth. “Some kind of lighting system? Or a weapon made into a lighting system? Yeah, you don’t know either, huh?”
He shook his head, showing more intelligence than Damon first thought.
“Huh.”
This place is old. Parts of it almost look like they may have predated the actual sewer system, Damon reflected, running his fingers along stonework. The tunnel walls showed clear signs of expansion and modification—newer construction built upon foundations that must have been ancient when the kingdom was young. Really old. Pre-Holy Emperor’s dominance in this area, definitely. Fae craft?
The tunnel gradually widened and opened into a vast underground network that took Damon’s breath away. What had once been a natural cavern system had been expanded and carved into something magnificent—a subterranean city with channels of flowing water that reflected the light from hundreds of crystal devices.
This doesn’t look like Holy Emperor architecture…but not totally fae, either. At least, not the type of fae I know about. Wow… They were skilled, though.
Coming upon the central chamber, they emerged onto a broad stone platform. Damon found himself looking down into what could only have been designed as an amphitheater. It almost looked…Roman in design.
Concentric rings of stone seating descended toward a central floor that had been carved from living rock, and the entire space was illuminated by an ingenious system of mirrors and crystal devices that somehow channeled natural light from far above.
Not fae…dwarves. Roman-style dwarves… Probably a reincarnate, possibly from that time period itself, he realized. The souls they pull from could be from across Earth’s history, transplanting pieces of Earth's culture into this world.
Yet, it had been clearly modified from its original structure.
The seating had been modified—platforms chiseled away to create better sightlines, and the central floor showed clear signs of recent use as an arena. Stains on the stone that Damon preferred not to think about too carefully, and scratch marks that suggested large claws and teeth.
“Impressive, isn’t it? You’re fairly early for the party.”
Damon spun toward the voice, his hand instinctively rising to defend himself. The voice came from nowhere. Two figures emerged from the shadows of a side passage—guards, by their bearing and the cudgels at their belts.
Yikes, being Level 1 sucks. We need to level up. I guess that’s why we’re here…
Both were human, dressed in practical leather armor that had seen better days.
“First time down here? Wait…a dark elf kid?” the taller guard continued, his tone carrying a mixture of professional curiosity and barely concealed disdain as he took in Damon’s dark features. “Saw the report about your exile… Figures a reincarnate would come here. Who gave you the password and directions, though?”
Damon straightened, forcing his voice to remain steady despite the racing of his heart. “You know reincarnates… We can be resourceful. This place is magnificent, though. How old is this place?” he redirected.
“Old enough,” the second guard replied curtly, not taking the bait; he was a stocky man with scars across his knuckles that spoke of experience in violence. “What’s your business here, dark elf? This isn’t a tourist attraction for the soon-to-be dead. You’ll scare away customers.”
Here we go, Damon thought, reaching into his sack to retrieve the copper coin and keeping it hidden. “I’m here for the games. Lady Ashcroft gave me instructions.”
Both guards’ attitudes shifted immediately at the mention of Ashcroft’s name, though their wariness only doubled, which wasn’t the reaction he’d anticipated.
Great. She has a reputation, after all. I should have seen this coming.
The taller one stepped forward, extending his hand.
“Password?”
“The crown’s foundation runs deeper than law.”
The scarred guard nodded slowly, though his eyes remained fixed on Damon’s face with obvious distrust. “Ashcroft’s newest pet project, are you…or maybe you have some method of eavesdropping and stumbled upon the wrong conversation?”
Uh, Aria, this is not like your easy isekai romance anime… This is real life, I suppose.
“She’s…got a taste for the exotic, as far as I can tell,” he added, causing the men to glance at each other in a way that said, ‘he’s not wrong.’
“The report says he actually follows Titania, not the Spider…” the other shrugged.
“That is rare and would draw her notice… You actually have any money, or did you spend it all on that cloak?”
“Plenty,” he smoothly replied, opening his hand and showing a confident smile he hoped would translate to their perception of him, despite him only looking ten years old.
The large Imperium copper coin gleamed with almost a mythical light as he held it up, where the crystal light could catch its brilliant surface. The effect was immediate and dramatic—both guards’ eyes widened, and the taller one stepped closer.
“Is that…” the scarred guard breathed.
“Imperium copper,” Damon confirmed, enjoying their reaction despite his nervousness. “Ashcroft thought it might be enough to warrant my entry to these more…exclusive games.”
The guards exchanged glances, and Damon caught a flicker of something that might have been greed in their expressions. The taller one cleared his throat and extended his hand again.
“You’re a new reincarnate, so I don’t suppose you’d know, but Imperium is used for a reason. Every coin is enchanted, marked, and tracked with a limited number through the Imperium Banking System. We’ll need to authenticate it, of course. Standard procedure for any Imperium coin above iron. Can’t be too careful—there are some talented forgers operating in the city these days… Fifty years ago, one reincarnate was sentenced to death for forgery a few nations over.”
Warning bells began ringing in Damon’s mind, but he had little choice. Reluctantly, he placed the coin in the guard’s palm. “A death sentence for forgery seems…extreme.”
“Really?” the scarred man returned with a small smirk, waving for him to follow him back to what was probably a guard station—hopefully not a trap. “I think it’s perfectly appropriate, considering a single Imperium gold can buy you a castle, which puts into perspective what a platinum is worth.”
“Right…” Damon mumbled, filing the information away and realizing these weren’t just precious metals, but enchanted metals, designed with purpose.
Copper’s fur bristled as he growled, no doubt sensing his discomfort with the pair; they hardly paid the cub any mind while guiding them through the halls.
It’s okay, bud. Whatever Ashcroft’s motives, she wants something she can only get through my success. She would have accounted for greed and racism in her plan. We made a contract and…everything points to her following laws, despite her use of loopholes…
They came upon what looked to be a prison guard room, boxes of supplies, and chests lining the walls. Cabinets and shelves seemed to house guard uniforms and weapons.
The man cleared his throat and opened another door, saying, “Kris, we’ve got a copper coin that needs authenticating. Is Glen… Ah, you’re here.”
“Yeah, one second. A copper coin?” the older-sounding man on the other side responded. “That’s a lot of money to be carrying around instead of using a banking slip.”
Damon’s stomach twisted at that information.
The graying man exited, wearing rather expensive-looking robes that bore the same mark as the Imperium coin; he was likely a banker on the payroll. Once spotting Damon, his brow immediately furrowed.
“The fallen prince… Well, now things make sense, but how would you get an Imperium copper only several hours after your banishment? Hmm… Smells like royal corruption to me.”
One of the guards shrugged. “Maybe his mom slipped him one. I heard princesses get a daily copper allowance. She probably still gets it until her sentencing.”
They…totally ignored the fact I told them I got it from Ashcroft…
“That makes sense,” the scarred guard huffed. “What I would do with a copper piece…”
He reluctantly handed it over to the older man, who pulled out a small, touch phone-like device, only with complex runic patterns on the ruby rectangle. He held the back up to the coin, and a screen popped up.
Silence ensued, Copper keeping close to his side, glaring up at them.
Slowly, the corrupt banker’s face tightened, and he looked toward one of the guards, shifting the device so that they could read it. The guards’ expressions changed instantly from curiosity to something much more dangerous.
Don’t tell me… Dammit, Ashcroft, what game are you playing?!
“Well, well,” the scarred one said, his hand moving to the cudgel at his belt. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a thief.”
Damon’s blood turned to ice. “What are you talking about? I told you, Lady Ashcroft gave me that coin. All of you know I’ve only just got released from solitary several hours ago.”
“Oh, I’m sure the respectable lady did,” the taller guard replied, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “Thing is…it shows you claimed ownership of this here coin. Lady Ashcroft’s name isn’t listed as an owner.”
Eyes defocusing, Damon’s memory returned to the translation. The contract… I claimed ownership of the coin. I don’t know the process… How did she skirt that system?
“You see,” the scarred guard continued, clicking his tongue, “funny thing, though—according to our authentication system, this particular coin was reported stolen from our establishment three days ago. Now, I’m not denying your timing and your air-tight alibi…but the fact is, you claimed ownership of an illegal coin. Laws, the law, kid, and it is what it is, wouldn’t you say?”
“How is this lawful?” Damon mumbled as the pair stretched out their backs, as if expecting him to run or resist. “It’s impossible for me to have stolen it or to have known it was stolen.”
The banker snorted. “Ignorance of the law is not a defense, reincarnate. In any transaction of this nature, you should always authenticate with the bank. Rookie mistake.”
She…set me up, Damon realized with dawning horror. Transparency laws state that she has to be honest about the contract, though… It’s a binding contract. She does want those people and…expects I have the means to accomplish the deal… What am I missing? We bound it in the Holy Emperor’s seal!
“Now,” the scarred guard continued, drawing his cudgel with practiced ease, “you can either come with us quietly while we sort this whole mess out, or we can do this the hard way. Your choice, thief.”
Beside him, Copper’s fur began to bristle, and Damon felt the cub’s protective instincts flaring through their bond. A low growl rumbled in his throat, greenish quills materializing—the bear was preparing to fight.
“Oh?” The taller guard’s vision narrowed. “A razorback tamed beast, hmm?”
“No,” Damon firmly stated, sending the pulse through their connection, as well. “We won’t resist. Stand down, Copper… This is just a misunderstanding.”
Even as he made the decision, part of him raged against the necessity. He was letting himself be captured, walking into whatever trap Ashcroft had prepared for him when his little sister would be left in the dark. But what choice did he have? Fighting would only make things worse and might get Copper hurt in the process, in his current state.
Ashcroft is too smart for this… Maybe she’s doing this to force me to be in her debt? Maybe she’s going to come to the rescue? Dammit. I should have pressed for more transparency… Hindsight is twenty-twenty.
“I’ll come willingly,” Damon said, raising his hands to show he meant no threat as Copper huffed and released his defenses. “But I’m not being separated from my companion. Keep a guard on my cell, if you want. I only recently bonded with him.”
The guards looked at Copper, taking in the bear’s size and the defensive, energy-like quills that were beginning to disperse from his fur. The scarred one whistled low under his breath.
“Not a bad pet for your first. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Where’d you get your hands on one of those? Steal him, too?”
Damon immediately opened his status window, only making his contract available for the banker to cautiously come forward to inspect.
“…Hmm. Interesting. It is signed by Lady Ashcroft. That’s…complicated, and there is a mention of a copper coin. That’s not to say that he didn’t trade it for a stolen coin to frame the lady.”
Those mental gymnastics are worthy of the Olympics, there, bud. How bad faith do you have to be, just because I’m a dark elf? He dryly growled to Copper.
“That proves he’s legally bonded to me,” Damon replied, pulling up his sleeve to show the Unity Tamer’s mark for added effect. “I won’t be separated from him.”
More guards were arriving now, drawn by some signal Damon had missed. Soon he was surrounded by six armed figures, all eyeing Copper with a mixture of wariness and professional interest.
“Boss is going to want to see this one,” one of the newcomers commented. “Dark elf with our stolen copper coin, huh? That’s worth a conversation.”
“Agreed,” the scarred guard nodded, handing the banker the copper coin for safekeeping. “Take them both to holding. Keep the bear calm if you can, boy—last thing we need is razor quills flying around down here and needing to get…rough with him.”
As they were escorted deeper into the underground complex, Damon tried to process what was happening. The tunnel they were led through showed more signs of the strange layered construction he’d noticed earlier—ancient stonework interspersed with newer additions, as if multiple civilizations had built upon the same foundation over centuries.
Most of it slid right by his frantic mind, though.
Ashcroft played me perfectly, he thought bitterly. She gives me a stolen coin, sends me straight into the hands of the people it was stolen from, and now I’m exactly where she wants me—captured and dependent on whatever deal she’s arranged. Does she want a contract modification with this as leverage? I…don’t know.
In stunned realization, he had to swallow the fact that he was over his head, but he had to have faith in this outcome. Titania, please, let this be a part of your plan, because…I’m at a loss.
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