The water dungeon didn’t end so much as it opened.
The final corridor sloped downward, stone walls giving way to pale, translucent crystal veined with slow-moving currents of light. Each step echoed softer than the last, the sound dampened as if the space ahead were swallowing noise itself. The air changed, taking on a lighter tone, tinged with salt and something faintly floral.
Nick slowed.
Ahead, the tunnel widened… then simply stopped existing.
Beyond it stretched an open sky.
Clouds drifted lazily across an impossible horizon. Sunlight spilled down in warm, golden bands, catching in rippling water that lapped gently against a shoreline of pale sand.
A beach.
It wasn’t a metaphor or some silly joke.
A real, physical shoreline suspended in what he suspected was a dimensional pocket, the ocean extending far enough that Nick couldn’t see where it ended—if it ended at all.
The stone floor beneath his boots gave way to sand as he stepped forward.
It was warm.
Grains shifted naturally beneath his weight, fine and dry near the entrance, darker and packed closer to the waterline. Waves rolled in with a steady, calming rhythm, foam hissing softly before retreating again.
For a moment, Nick just stood there.
After a dungeon full of abstract metaphors and trials…
After a mountain that tried to kill him repeatedly…
The sheer normalcy was alarming.
Kelsey exhaled softly beside him.
“It never gets old,” she said. “Even knowing it’s artificial.”
“Artificial?” he muttered. “Someone made this?”
She smiled and stepped ahead, unbuttoning her overshirt as she walked. With practiced ease, she slipped it off, followed by her boots, then reached back and pulled her hair loose from its tie.
A two-piece swimsuit—the same one she’d worn on the way down here.
She glanced back over her shoulder.
“You know,” she said. “Most people don’t explore beaches fully clothed like that.”
Nick looked down at himself.
A still-damp jacket over a t-shirt and long pants…
“…I know you said we were going to the beach, but I expected to be fighting more monsters…” he replied weakly.
She laughed. “You could always go in the water like that. It makes a statement, at least.”
“What statement? ‘A man drowns with dignity’?”
She waded into the shallow water, gasping softly as it reached her calves. “Suit yourself.”
He watched her for a moment before blinking in surprise. “Was that a pun?”
She wiggled her eyebrows playfully.
He sighed. “Damn it. Alright, one second.”
Of course, he didn’t bring a swimsuit with him.
What sane person would bring a swimsuit to a dungeon?
But he did have a way to get one…
He froze, internally running through the consequences at a speed that would’ve impressed a tactician.
Cain, Rikta, Bill, Takkar, Lorian, and the foxkin were all inside the wardrobe.
And there were witnesses when Cain summoned the wardrobe to escape from Commander Aldric and the guild elites.
If Kelsey was someone who knew about that…
Nick cleared his throat.
“Quick heads up,” he said casually. “I’m about to summon something. You absolutely cannot look inside it.”
Kelsey turned, raising an eyebrow. “That’s ominous.”
“It’s a privacy thing.”
“I’ve heard that before. You’re not gonna whip out something weird, are you?”
He met her gaze. “I’m serious.”
She studied him for a moment, then shrugged. “Alright. I’ll look at the ocean. Dramatically. Like I’m respecting your boundaries in a tasteful way.”
“…Thank you.”
The Infinite Wardrobe appeared without a sound or flourish, materializing on the sand like it had always belonged there. Its golden handles caught the sunlight, highlighting ornate carvings and dark, polished wood.
Kelsey’s breath caught.
“Oh…” she said. “That’s… much fancier than I expected.”
Nick stepped in front of it immediately, partially blocking her line of sight with his body.
“Eyes up,” he said. “Or down. Or anywhere else.”
She raised both hands. “Noted.”
Nick cracked the door open just enough to slip an arm through.
Inside, he heard movement.
A shuffle.
A groan.
“—don’t open that—” Takkar’s voice hissed.
“Quiet,” Cain muttered. “Oh, this is disorienting…”
Nick reached blindly, fingers closing around folded fabric that Cain passed to him. He yanked it free and slammed the door shut in one smooth motion, heart pounding.
The wardrobe vanished a second later.
Kelsey turned back around.
She blinked.
Then blinked again.
Nick was holding a swimsuit.
It was plain black, functional, and unassuming.
“…You have a magical wardrobe full of clothes that you can summon anywhere?”
“Jealous?”
“Yes?”
“Nice.”
“Wow. You really just said that?” She laughed, splashing water in his direction.
Nick tossed his boots aside and removed his jacket and socks.
“Unless you want a show, I suggest you turn around again,” he warned.
She studied him for a moment with a mischievous tilt to her smile. “Would I appreciate the show?”
“Well, if you do, I might get the wrong idea.”
She giggled. “Alright, fair enough.”
She turned around again.
Nick quickly changed with minimal ceremony. When he stepped into the water beside her, the tension finally bled off his shoulders.
The ocean was perfect.
It was cool without being cold, and his body felt lighter than it had in days. Sunlight refracted through the surface, painting shifting patterns across the sand below.
They stood there for a while without speaking.
Then Kelsey said quietly. “You’re different.”
Nick glanced at her. “How so?”
“You’re still you,” she said. “But there’s this… weight. Like you just experienced something heavy and still haven’t come back yet.”
He considered denying it.
Then didn’t.
“Recently, the world has been obsessed with teaching me that I’m not that strong yet. I’m powerful compared to a regular person, but this is not a world for regular people.”
She nodded, letting the water lap against her legs.
“That’s true,” she said. “But I don’t think this world is for strong people either.”
“That’s a hell of a take after all the shit I’ve seen. Do you get out much?”
She shrugged, her eyes on the horizon. “Strong people die all the time. Sometimes they die first. Sometimes they die loudly…”
“…”
“Those who survive aren’t necessarily the strongest.”
He snorted despite himself. “Is this some ‘those who survive are actually the strongest’ spiel?”
“Nah,” she leaned back, letting the water lift her slightly, her arms spreading as she floated on her back. “Strength matters. Obviously. But it’s not the axis everything spins on. Most places like this—” she gestured vaguely at the beach “—will be more powerful than you. Force isn’t always the answer, but those who are strong have difficulty accepting that.”
“I can’t tell if you’re used to death, or if you’re just naturally philosophical.”
Nick waded out a little farther, until the water reached his waist. The warmth soaked into muscles he hadn’t realized were tense.
She tilted her head, smiling faintly. “You’d be surprised what people sound like once they stop pretending death is hypothetical.”
They drifted in silence for a while after that.
The waves kept their steady rhythm. Far overhead, clouds shifted lazily, casting slow-moving shadows across the water. Nick let himself float too, his arms and legs loose. He stared up at the sky until the tension between his shoulders was finally gone.
It felt wrong.
Not dangerous.
Just… undeserved.
“You know,” he said after a while, “back home, I used to think peace was something you earned by winning.”
Kelsey turned her head to look at him, her hair fanning out in the water. “And now?”
“Now I think it’s something you borrow,” he said. “And the interest compounds fast.”
She smiled at that.
“You’re mourning,” she said gently.
Nick blinked. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” She rolled back upright, water dripping from her shoulders as she stood. “You’re mourning a version of yourself that thought the rules were clearer.”
He didn’t argue. He wasn’t sure if she was right, but he couldn’t say for sure that she was wrong.
They walked along the shoreline together, bare feet sinking into wet sand. The dungeon entrance behind them shimmered faintly, half-seen through refracted light, like a memory.
“Can I ask you something personal?” Kelsey said.
He hesitated. “Depends how personal.”
She stopped walking, forcing him to stop too. “Are you trying to survive,” she asked, “or are you trying to continue?”
Nick stared out at the water, jaw tightening. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Some days it feels like those are the same thing. Other days…”
He trailed off with a sigh.
“Other days it feels like choosing one means giving up the other.”
Kelsey didn’t respond immediately.
Instead, she stepped closer and dipped her toes in the water again, watching the foam curl around them. “Then you’re asking the right questions,” she said. “Even if you don’t like the answers yet.”
Nick watched the foam curl and break around her toes, then retreat again.
“People usually ask what I’m trying to survive,” he said. “You skipped that.”
“Because the answer would be boring.”
“Ouch?”
“Hah.” She turned, walking farther along the shore. “Everyone’s trying to survive something. Monsters. Regret. Other people. The question that actually matters is what you plan to carry forward with you.”
Nick followed, water sloshing softly around his feet. “Then I assume you’ve already made that choice?”
They reached a stretch of sand where the water pulled back farther before returning, leaving shallow pools that reflected the sky in broken fragments. Kelsey crouched and ran her fingers through one of them, watching the ripples scatter the clouds.
“I’ve had to decide who I’m allowed to be,” she said at last. “More than once.”
Nick frowned. “That’s an… interesting way to phrase it.”
She glanced back at him, studying his expression. “Is it?”
“It is,” he said. “Most people say who they want to be. Or who they are. ‘Allowed’ implies there was someone stopping you.”
Her smile sharpened just a little.
“Sometimes,” she said lightly. “That someone is ‘yourself’.”
Nick snorted. “I’ve been very good at that.”
“I know.”
The words slipped out too easily.
She caught it immediately.
“I mean—” she added, waving a hand. “I know people like you. The kind who take responsibility too seriously. You’re very good at building cages out of principles.”
Nick stopped walking.
Kelsey did too.
They stood there, water murmuring between them.
“That’s a hell of an accusation for a beach date.”
She winced. “Sorry. Occupational hazard.”
“Doing what, exactly?”
She straightened, brushing sand from her fingers. “Listening.”
Nick studied her face. For all her easy humor, there was something deliberate in the way she watched him. It wasn’t cold or predatory… it was just attentive.
“Alright,” he said. “I’ll bite and see if that changes your opinion of me.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t know what I’m allowed to want anymore.”
Her expression softened.
“That’s not a failing,” she said. “That’s grief.”
“Why can you say that like you understand?”
“I do,” she said gently. “You don’t talk about the future like someone afraid of dying. You talk like someone afraid of consequences. You’re afraid of living wrong… but you’re even more afraid of living right.”
Nick looked away, out at the endless ocean. “Back home, I was married.”
Her brow furrowed, then she nodded.
“That complicates things.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “She knows I died… and people don’t respawn there. I don’t even know if there’s a way back. And even if there is—” He stopped, jaw tightening. “Is it fair to hold myself frozen in place while the world keeps moving without me?”
Kelsey stepped closer, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched.
“Fairness is a dangerous metric,” she said. “It turns grief into a transaction.”
Nick huffed a weak laugh. “You’re good at saying things that make me feel uncomfortable.”
She smiled. “That’s usually when people are the most honest.”
He glanced at her. “You didn’t ask about her.”
Kelsey met his gaze evenly. “You weren’t ready to talk about her. You were ready to talk about you.”
“So you’re avoiding the subject?”
“Or being respectful,” she countered.
They walked again, slower now. The sun had dipped just enough that the light softened, turning the water a deeper blue.
“So, what are you doing here, Kelsey? Really.”
She stopped.
For the first time since they’d reached the beach, she was fully serious.
“I’m here because you are going to change things,” she said. “Maybe for the better. Maybe catastrophically. And either way, it’ll likely be without you realizing which one it’ll be until it’s too late.”
Nick raised an eyebrow. “You have that much faith in me?”
“I’m not here to stop you,” she added quickly. “Or control you. I just… wanted to see who you were when no one was trying to kill you.”
He considered that.
“And?”
She smiled, smaller this time. With a hint of sincerity.
“I think you’re someone who’s trying very hard not to become a villain just because the world keeps daring you to.”
Nick let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
“Well,” he said dryly. “That’s a low bar, but I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
She laughed.
They reached a rise in the sand and sat down together, the ocean stretching endlessly before them.
For a while, they said nothing.
And for just a little while longer, Nick let himself believe that this peace could be borrowed without immediate cost.
Kelsey watched the horizon as if measuring how long this could last.
A wave washed over their feet, then slipped away again.
Project Knightfall 