The peaceful aftermath of the great battle settled over the Kermadec sub-mantle fault like a warm mantle blanket.
Thirty-two thousand meters beneath the Pacific Ocean, the squad established a secure resting hearth on a broad dense green rock terrace overlooking the Continental Core Gate. Beside them, a towering hot-water chimney—purified of all void foul fog by Echo’s Wood-Water Creation Deluge—vented clean, stone-rich steam that warmed the surrounding water column to a comfortable twenty-four degrees.
Arthur Vance removed his heavy silver-steel diving cowl, setting it carefully on an equipment crate. He drew a deep breath of the purified cave air, savoring the clean scent of moist earth, sea salt, and ozone. In the hadal deep, where crushing pressures and lethal toxins were the standard of existence, this warm, glowing pocket of peace felt like an impossible paradise.
Arthur didn’t rest right away. To a dedicated comparative anatomist and beast-doctor clinician, the conclusion of an apex engagement was the beginning of the most critical phase of squad care: systematic post-combat triage.
He opened his field surgery kit, laying out sterile instruments, topical regenerating balms, strong salt water broths, and test probes.
“Checkup time, team,” Arthur said with a warm smile. His voice carried clearly across the quiet terrace. “Line up.”
