Chapter 15 - Into the Deep

Chapter 15 - Into the Deep

The old man, Xuán Zhīwén, walked calmly down the dimly lit street, his hands clasped behind his back in a seemingly casual manner. His pace was leisurely, almost as if he were enjoying a peaceful evening stroll. Yet, those with a trained eye in martial arts would sense something different. Every muscle in his body was poised and ready, his stance prepared to deliver a devastating strike if the need arose. 

His sharp eyes scanned his surroundings with the ease of someone who had seen many battles and many more betrayals. The air around him seemed thick, pregnant with tension, when suddenly, without warning, a shadow began to bubble up from the ground ahead of him. Xuán Zhīwén halted, watching silently as the shadow twisted and writhed, shaping itself into the form of a man. 

Kojo Shinobu, the patriarch of the Kojo Clan, emerged from the darkness. He knelt before Xuán with deep reverence, his head bowed low in respect. 

"Master Xuán," Kojo Shinobu spoke, his voice steady, though there was a hint of urgency beneath the calm. "Tokyo has been cleared of Deep Ones. The remaining humans have been located at the ritual site near the port. They are held captive there, but we are preparing to move in and retrieve them."

Xuán Zhīwén nodded slightly, acknowledging the report but showing little emotion. "And Seimei-san ?" he asked, his voice carrying a weight that made the night feel heavier.

"The Fujiwara-sama sends his regards and requests the assistance of the Master Xuán to create a distraction," Kojo Shinobu explained. "It will allow my clan's ninjas to infiltrate the port and rescue the captives in one swift strike."

Xuán Zhīwén stroked his long, graying beard thoughtfully as he looked toward the distant port, where faint glows and the occasional crackle of green lightning illuminated the horizon. "Very well," he muttered, his gaze lingering on the flickering lights. There was something unsettling in the air. The Kojo Clan's ninjas had already vanished into the shadows, leaving Xuán alone once more.

As the old master stared at the ominous glow over the port, a low sigh escaped him. His thoughts turned inward. "The shadow of darkness grows deeper," he mused to himself, his voice a barely audible whisper. "It seems the gods may need to step in to be able to turn the tide if this continues."

The weight of the situation pressed on him, but Xuán was not one to linger on doubt. He stood straighter, his focus sharpening as he prepared to act.

In a blur of motion, he vanished from his spot, his speed unimaginable for someone of his age. Moving with the grace of a shadow and the precision of a hawk, Xuán sped toward the port, where the final act of this battle would soon unfold. He was ready to face whatever darkness awaited there, but even he could feel the growing presence of something ancient and terrible lurking just beyond the veil.

The fight against the Old Ones was far from over.

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Detachment of the U.S. Army from the Japanese Base

Commander John Reynolds stood inside the command tent, his jaw clenched as he listened to the orders coming through the radio. On the other end was General Marcus Hatcher, a seasoned veteran giving orders from headquarters. 

"Commander Reynolds, I need your detachment to move out immediately and head toward the port near Tokyo Bay," General Hatcher's voice crackled through the radio. "Your objective is to capture a wounded Deep One for research."

Reynolds furrowed his brow, his hand tightening on the radio handset. "Sir, with all due respect, capturing a Deep One? Our arms haven't done much against them, much less injured one. How are we supposed to secure it?"

General Hatcher's response was steady, almost too calm. "We have intel, Commander. There's a Deep One—wounded and retreating from the fight at the Imperial Palace. It's vulnerable. Your detachment is to engage, contain, and extract it."

Reynolds couldn't help but feel a twinge of doubt. "Vulnerable or not, General, those things tore through our forces like paper. Even if it's wounded, my men won't stand a chance with just conventional weaponry. We don't have the firepower for this."

The General's voice hardened slightly. "You're not going in blind, Reynolds. Our research division, in collaboration with Japanese intel, has found that Deep Ones can be neutralized—at least temporarily—with liquid nitrogen. It triggers some sort of hibernation state. We've seen this from footage of the ninjas' encounter at the palace. Your mission is simple—immobilize it with nitrogen, and we'll extract it for study."

Commander Reynolds glanced at the intel report on his desk. The theory sounded plausible, but still... These monsters weren't like anything they had ever faced. He sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Understood, General. I'll prep the detachment. We'll retrieve the nitrogen from the CIA's supply depot. But this still feels like a hell of a gamble."

"It is, Commander," Hatcher responded. "But it's one we need to take. We need to learn how to fight these things before it's too late."

Reynolds paused, then nodded as if the general could see him. "Roger that, sir. We'll make the move."

After the radio cut out, Commander Reynolds turned to his subordinate, Captain Alan Hendricks, standing nearby. "Get the nitrogen tanks from the CIA supply depot. We're going to need every canister they've got. Make sure the vehicles are ready to roll."

Captain Hendricks, a no-nonsense soldier with years of experience, raised an eyebrow but didn't question the order. "Yes, sir," he replied and immediately barked orders to the soldiers stationed outside the tent.

Commander Reynolds stepped out into the cool evening air, watching as his men scrambled to load up the vehicles. His task force consisted of 120 soldiers, five M1 Abrams tanks, and six large transport trucks equipped to carry heavy loads. The convoy was packed with gear, including high-powered rifles, explosives, and now, the newly arrived nitrogen canisters from the CIA. 

As he scanned the preparations, Reynolds couldn't shake the feeling of unease creeping up his spine. His men were trained for combat, but fighting Deep Ones? That was another story entirely. This wasn't just war—it was something else, something far darker. 

His radio crackled again. "All units, move out. We'll rendezvous near the port. Stay sharp," Reynolds ordered, climbing into the lead Humvee. The convoy roared to life, engines growling as the tanks and trucks began to roll out of the base, heading straight for the port. The night ahead was uncertain, but they had their orders. All that was left was to see if the intel—and the nitrogen—would hold up against the nightmare waiting for them.

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Near the Port

-Random Soldier's POV

The rain hadn't let up since the Deep Ones arrived, and it made the already tense atmosphere even worse. I walked behind the Abrams tanks, slowly securing the area. The cold chill in the air felt like it was seeping into my bones, and I hated every second of it. Tomorrow was supposed to be the start of my vacation—finally some time off—and I had plans to hit up Shibuya for some anime merch. But, of course, that wasn't happening. 

I sighed heavily and cursed the Deep Ones for showing up now of all times. Couldn't they have waited until next week? I shook the thought out of my head. Who was I kidding? These monsters shouldn't even exist. The scene around me made that painfully clear—blood splattered across walls, body parts scattered in the streets. My stomach turned, and I couldn't help but feel sorry for the victims. 

Looking around, I could see the same look on many of my fellow soldiers' faces. Most of them had never seen real combat. We'd been stationed here in Japan for years, enjoying the peace and even the fun of being in such a vibrant country. We weren't in the Middle East, not dealing with daily violence. This was our first real battlefield, and it showed. A lot of guys looked green, sickened by the carnage.

Suddenly, the tanks in front of us halted, and so did we. Instinct kicked in, and I started scanning the surroundings, my training keeping me sharp. The commander and Captain Hendricks were up ahead, talking quietly and gesturing toward the perimeter. A group of soldiers was sent forward to scout ahead, and after about three minutes, they returned, reporting all clear. 

We moved forward, cautiously setting up a perimeter, and that's when I saw it for the first time—an injured Deep One. My breath caught in my throat. I'd seen photos, heard the stories, but seeing it up close was something else. It was grotesque—twisted, ugly, like a nightmare made real. This one was limping, its limbs partially severed, and it was bleeding dark green blood from its wounds. Its skin was pale, almost sickly, and parts of its face looked blown apart. 

It noticed us as we approached, but its injuries made it slow, sluggish. We froze in place for a moment, waiting. Then, three of the Abrams tanks lined up their turrets, and without warning—BOOM. The armor-piercing rounds hit their mark, a direct hit. I saw the hole it left in the Deep One's body. Soldiers jumped into action, tossing incendiary grenades and thermite into the opening. The flames roared up, and we waited, tense, weapons ready.

After a few moments, we moved in closer. My team was tasked with using the nitrogen to freeze the creature. I was one of the guys holding a nitrogen canister, and as we approached the still-burning Deep One, I could hear its low groans of pain. We opened fire with the nitrogen, spraying it directly onto the monster. The freezing mist enveloped it, and slowly, agonizingly, the creature began to freeze over. 

It took five minutes—five long minutes of constant freezing, canisters running dry and being swapped out by other soldiers. The groaning eventually stopped, and what was left before us was a grotesque popsicle. A frozen Deep One. 

We all let out a collective sigh of relief. The thing that had terrorized Tokyo all day was finally immobilized. We radioed in the accomplishment, and soon after, multiple trucks—including a specialized containment vehicle—arrived to transport the frozen monster.

But just as we were loading the Deep One onto the truck, the unthinkable happened—BOOM. The trucks exploded. 

Instinctively, I dove for cover, pulling up my rifle and scanning the area, heart pounding in my chest. That's when I saw it—standing on top of a pile of rubble. Another Deep One, but this one was different. It was larger, towering over the destruction around it. Its body was still grotesque, but it wore tattered cloth that clung to its unnatural frame, and in one of its twisted hands was a staff. 

This wasn't like the others. It exuded something... powerful, terrifying. I could feel it in the pit of my stomach.

The tanks aimed and fired immediately, but I could barely focus as I watched in horror. I gulped and muttered a prayer under my breath, gripping my rifle so tight my knuckles went white. We were up against something worse than we'd ever imagined.

"God help us," I whispered.

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Near Tokyo Bay - 3rd POV

The battle erupted with a ferocity no one was prepared for. The soldiers had seen Deep Ones before—monsters that charged recklessly into fire, undeterred by bullets or explosions. But this one was different. It was using magic.

The creature, towering over the battlefield, raised its staff and began to pull moisture from the air and ground, gathering water that swirled around it in a torrent. The water changed color, shifting from clear to ominous black and sickly green. The green water was acidic, melting anything it touched, while the black water exploded on contact, ripping through armor and flesh alike. Even the clear water was deadly, piercing the reinforced armor of tanks like it was nothing.

In the first minute of battle, three Abrams tanks were reduced to smoldering wrecks. Panic rippled through the soldiers, but their training kicked in. Despite being stuck in Japan for years during peacetime, they remembered how to act under fire. They grouped up, sought cover, and opened fire in coordinated bursts. But this Deep One wasn't like the mindless brutes they'd fought before. It was intelligent. It moved with precision, darting behind cover, attacking from a distance. Every time they tried to close the gap, it conjured water to shield itself, dousing flamethrowers and repelling nitrogen shots with ease.

The soldiers' fear grew with each second. Their rifles were useless against the creature's magic, and the tanks—once their strongest asset—were now ineffective. The commander's voice crackled over the radio, desperation clear as he called for reinforcements. But the base couldn't send help immediately. The task force had been sent in secret, without informing the Japanese government, and now they were too deep in enemy territory with no backup. The only support on the way was a squadron of F-15s being prepped for takeoff from Yokota Air Base, but they would take time to arrive.

"Stall for time," the general ordered. The commander clenched his fists in frustration, staring at the battlefield in dismay. They were losing soldiers left and right, and the frozen Deep One they had worked so hard to capture was still in jeopardy. But orders were orders. He gritted his teeth and pressed on, trying to maintain control of the situation.

The fight raged on. The Deep One Archmage summoned waves of black and green water, sending them crashing into the soldiers' ranks. Magic they had never seen before tore through their defenses. Explosions rocked the ground, and acidic water melted through the hulls of the remaining tanks. Soldiers were dying, screaming, and there seemed to be no way to stop the monster.

One soldier—barely holding onto his rifle—saw a black water orb heading straight for him. Time seemed to slow as it approached. He closed his eyes, knowing there was no way to escape. The end had come.

But then...nothing.

He opened his eyes, blinking in disbelief. An old man stood in front of him, his hand raised, blocking the water orb with some invisible force. The soldier's breath caught in his throat as he recognized the old man—it was the alchemist from the airport, Xuán Zhīwén.

The battlefield seemed to pause as Xuán Zhīwén stepped forward, his face calm but serious, his robes flowing gently in the wind. He stared down the Deep One, whose grotesque features twisted in anger. The Archmage, now clearly identified as such by Xuán, stood taller than any Deep One they had faced before. Its body was covered in thick, rotting skin, and its webbed hands gripped the staff that pulsed with dark energy. Long, twisted horns jutted from its head, and its eyes glowed a sickly yellow. It was a creature of nightmares, far more terrifying than any of the mindless Deep Ones they had encountered earlier.

"The Deep One Archmage," Xuán muttered, as if identifying a pest. He spoke calmly, but his voice carried a weight of ancient knowledge. The Archmage glared at him, its monstrous face twitching with barely contained fury.

"You must leave this place," the Archmage hissed in perfect, though gurgling, English. The voice sent chills down the spines of every soldier still standing. It was unnatural, as though the creature were gargling water with every word. "The Great Dreamer is upon us. This world belongs to the Old Ones, to devour and consume. Flee, while you can."

A cold dread settled over the remaining soldiers. The name "Great Dreamer" sent ripples of terror through their minds. Was this Deep One referring to the ancient, cosmic beings from the darkest myths?

Xuán, however, seemed unimpressed. He waved his hand dismissively, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"The Old Ones?," he said with a hint of mockery. "They were defeated once, like dogs. The Great Dreamer? He will fall just the same."

The Archmage's eyes burned with rage at Xuán's words. It raised its staff, and dark energy crackled through the air. With a roar, it hurled a spell at the alchemist—a writhing mass of black and green water, filled with death and destruction.

Xuán Zhīwén stood his ground, not even flinching. With a single, elegant gesture, he raised his hand, and the deadly spell shattered against an invisible barrier, harmlessly dissolving into mist. The soldiers, who had been cowering in fear, watched in awe as the old alchemist stood firm against the unimaginable power of the Deep One Archmage.

The battle was far from over, but for the first time, there was hope.