Single for Eternity
Chapter 93: Forgotten Siren of the Deep

Chapter 93: Forgotten Siren of the Deep

With the Siren dead and her path momentarily clear, Seren moved forward.

She leapt from boulder to boulder, one after another, as if guided by instinct more than thought. The rhythmic thud of her boots against stone echoed faintly in the wide, open silence of the shallow water.

Rest never entered her mind—not out of pride or stubbornness, but simply because she didn’t need it. The battle had barely scratched the surface of her stamina.

She still thrummed with energy, focused and unshaken.

And so she pushed forward, her steps as precise as they were fluid.

...

But just as she was about to step onto solid ground at the edge of the water, something strange happened.

The water shifted.

It wasn’t a wave. It wasn’t natural. The water, which had been deathly still until now, moved—the surface creeping forward, rippling unnaturally across the shallows to meet the shoreline ahead of her.

Seren paused, blinking once. "Illusion?" she murmured under her breath.

To test it, she stepped back and prepared herself, then darted forward with a surge of speed. At the last possible second, she jumped—a full arc, hundreds of meters wide, aimed to land beyond the reach of the water’s edge.

But again, at the very moment her boots should have touched land—

The water lunged.

It rose like a sentient veil, surging toward her with feral aggression. Though silent, it felt like a scream of outrage. Like the water itself was rejecting her escape.

She landed not on dry ground, but on another slick boulder, its surface now closer to the center of the lake than she remembered.

Her brows furrowed slightly, but she wasn’t panicked. Just... annoyed.

"This place is getting on my nerves."

Yet her tone remained quiet. Calm.

She wasn’t the type to lash out at things without understanding them.

If the water reacted so violently to her leaving, then something was keeping her here. And something—or someone—was controlling it.

That was the real enemy.

And if she found the cause... she could end this.

She turned and began moving back across the terrain, leaping again from stone to stone with practiced ease. She still refused to let even a toe touch the surface of the water. Something deep inside her warned against it—a quiet, persistent instinct that hissed danger.

It had kept her alive this long. She trusted it.

Even when facing the Lesser Siren, she hadn’t wavered. She never allowed herself to become careless.

And now, as she wandered deeper into the lake’s heart, she kept her hand resting gently on the hilt of Dissonance, ready to draw in an instant.

Still, no new attacks came.

The water was deceptively calm again, its surface like glass, the moonlight shimmering across it in silver ripples. Its serenity was unnatural—too pristine. Too still.

And that was what made it unsettling.

Seren’s eyes, ever watchful, scanned her surroundings.

No enemies.

No aether pulses.

Just the eerie silence of a trap waiting to close.

She tried several more escape paths, changing directions each time—north, west, then east—but no matter where she leapt, the water surged to meet her. Always shifting. Always denying her the shore.

It was a prison.

Elegant. Clever.

But not invincible.

Seren didn’t lose hope. She wasn’t the kind of person to give up simply because something was persistent.

She simply returned to her plan: Find the source. Eliminate the threat.

No wasted emotion. No unnecessary words.

Her sharp crimson gaze swept the horizon again, this time catching something—a flicker of movement across the water.

Not waves.

Not a creature.

People.

Figures were walking across the same water-laced terrain. Some of them leapt between stones like she had. Others trudged directly through the shallows, unaware—or perhaps unconcerned—about the danger below.

Participants.

...

Seren narrowed her eyes, the faintest flicker of interest sparking in her crimson gaze.

The group ahead of her—five participants—wore steel armor fitted for mobility, clearly crafted for mid-tier combatants. Their gear wasn’t extravagant, but it was practical. Efficient. She’d seen enough battles to know they weren’t weaklings, not by normal standards.

But something was... off.

Their movement was unnatural—stiff, synchronized, like marionettes being tugged along invisible strings. Their eyes, what little she could see of them through their helms and visors, were distant. Lucid. Clouded.

They’re entranced, she realized, her footsteps silent as she trailed behind them from a careful distance. Her presence remained fully suppressed, her aether signature reduced to nearly zero. Like a shadow, she moved—never touching the water, always leaping stone to stone, one step behind the puppets.

The five never spoke. Never faltered. They moved in eerie unison, like a chorus marching to an unheard song, step by step into the water’s deepening center.

Minutes passed. The silence was unnerving.

And then... they reached it.

The terrain changed. The boulders ended abruptly, and the water grew deeper—dark, glossy, reflective. The waterbed disappeared into a blue-black beneath the surface. There was no more stone to walk on. No more foundation.

Still, the five didn’t stop.

They waded into the water without hesitation, the cold liquid rising past their waists, then their chests. One by one, they moved forward until only their shoulders and heads remained visible.

Then the water shuddered.

It quaked—not with a ripple, but with violent, explosive force, as though something ancient and massive had just awakened beneath the surface.

A wave burst upward, crashing high into the air before falling like mist around them.

And then it rose.

From the depths, a shape emerged. Familiar in form, yet monstrous in scale.

A Siren.

But not like the Lesser one she had slain before.

No, this one was colossal.

Its skin was a translucent, ghostly blue. Glistening. Cold. Hundreds—no, thousands—of eyes blinked open across its body: lining its arms, its neck, its back, even its webbed, feminine fingers. Its eyes shimmered in all directions, glowing with subtle violet and teal hues like pearls of madness.

The creature had a humanoid shape—curvaceous, feminine even, but stretched unnaturally tall. Its hair was long, tangled seaweed-like strands, floating around its face like a living shroud.

Above it all, a notification flashed in Seren’s vision:

[ Sovereign Trial: Forgotten Siren of the Deep ]

[ Threat Level: Mystic ]

Seren’s lips curled into a faint smirk.

"Mystic level," she murmured, pleased. "Finally, something worth killing."

Still cloaked in shadows, she watched the entranced participants approach the creature without fear. Their steps didn’t waver. Their expressions never changed.

As they reached the Siren, they raised their arms in a wide, fluid motion—almost like worshipers.

The Siren responded.

It let out a shrill, harmonic shriek—too layered to be human, too melodic to be a roar. It was beautiful in a way that made the skin crawl.

Then its jaw unhinged.

Rows of jagged, crystalline teeth revealed themselves in a slow, theatrical grin. And without hesitation, the Siren leaned forward.

It did not engulf the group in a single bite.

No, it took its time.

First, it chomped down on the arm of one participant—ripping it slowly, deliberately. Blood sprayed across the water’s surface like paint over glass.

The man didn’t scream.

He didn’t even flinch.

Next, the Siren reached for another and tore through his shoulder, then a leg, chewing methodically. One by one, it feasted on them—biting, ripping, tearing.

Their bodies broke apart slowly, piece by piece, until the water turned dark with gore. The metallic scent of blood flooded the air, staining the mist that hung above the lake.

Seren watched without blinking.

She didn’t look away.

Didn’t feel pity.

Didn’t feel disgust.

To her, this wasn’t tragedy.

It was a performance.

A grotesque play, with its final act already written.

’They were already dead the moment they stepped into the water,’ she thought. ’Pawns willingly fed to the board.’

And if that Siren was willing to kill five participants just to taste their limbs... then it was likely a glutton. A beast grown used to feeding on the entranced.

Seren shifted slightly atop her boulder, drawing in a silent breath. Her sword remained sheathed, but her fingers tapped gently along the hilt, reading the rhythm of the Siren’s movements. The monster was distracted—savoring the meal. Engrossed in it.

"Good," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. Her crimson eyes gleamed like burning coals. "Finish eating."

Her aether began to build—quietly, deeply.

’Because when you’re done...’

’I’ll carve you open.’