I Got Reincarnated as a Zombie Girl-Chapter 323 - 319 – Under Pressure That Allows No Fate

Chapter 323: Chapter 319 – Under Pressure That Allows No Fate

The water corridor closed behind them without a sound.

Not like a collapsing wave, nor like a door being shut. The water simply returned to its place, as if the ocean world had never parted to grant passage. The light from the surface vanished quickly, replaced by a deepening dark blue, then a black that was not entirely dark, a color that could only exist in the depths.

The pressure arrived before the cold.

It did not strike; it embraced. Heavy, consistent, and inescapable. Each step downward along the current felt like passing through layered laws, each one assessing whether the descenders were worthy of being there.

Nerys led the way.

The sea goddess moved gracefully, her blue hair flowing with invisible currents. The water around her responded as if it were a body recognizing its own heart. With every gesture of her hand, the pressure around the group was adjusted strong enough to repel intruders, gentle enough not to crush guests.

Sylvia walked right behind her.

The aura of death surrounding Sylvia was now tightly restrained, not to hide, but to avoid clashing with the laws of the sea. The Death Flame pulsed calmly, like embers covered in ash. She suppressed the War Sun Flame even deeper, for the heat of war was a language the depths disliked.

Sofia was at Sylvia’s side, lightly supported. She insisted on walking unaided, though each step caused her breath to hitch for a fraction of a second. The conceptual wound felt sharper under the ocean’s pressure, as if her very essence was being tested by depths indifferent to light.

Alicia followed behind, one hand pressed to her own chest. The souls still clinging to her began to settle, sinking into the ancient silence of the sea. Those voices did not vanish, but grew distant, like echoes finally finding a wall to rest against.

Stacia stepped at the rear.

She neither touched the water nor was fully separated from it. The space-time elements around her continuously adjusted, pulsing faintly each time the ocean’s pressure met the boundaries she usually commanded. The similarity to Xynareth made her wary; every pulse felt like the shadow of something that might peek in if she let her guard down.

The small treant walked among them, its feet leaving faint traces of dim green light on the seafloor. It hummed softly, a simple tune that somehow made the pressure feel a little lighter.

Plop.

(Entering... deep...)

Nerys’s temple emerged gradually, not from a distance, but from within.

It did not stand on the ocean floor. It was the floor itself. Pillars of black coral layered with ancient pearls rose upward, merging with the ocean walls like the bones of a giant growing in all directions. A soft greenish light glowed from its crevices, not for illumination, but as a marker of presence.

There was no door.

Nerys raised her hand, and the water before them folded aside, opening a dry space still surrounded by the sea. The pressure remained, but controlled, like a long breath held by the goddess’s will.

"Here," Nerys said softly.

They entered.

As soon as their feet touched the temple floor, Sylvia immediately sensed the difference. The world outside seemed to recede, replaced by static depth. There were no echoes of footsteps. No reverberations of sound. Even auras felt dulled, as if wrapped in a thick layer that rejected wild resonance.

Sofia slowly sat on a coral bench that formed from the wall. Her face paled for a moment, then she regulated her breathing with the discipline learned from too many battles.

"I’m... fine," she said before anyone could ask. "It’s just... heavy."

Sylvia nodded. She did not contradict, but she also did not release Sofia from her line of sight.

Alicia leaned against the nearest pillar, then slowly sat on the floor. As soon as she stopped moving, her shoulders dropped sharply, as if the burden she carried had finally found a place to rest. She closed her eyes, and the souls still floating around her drew closer, calmed, then settled like fine sand.

Stacia stood in the center of the room, examining the subtle grooves forming the temple’s structure. She probed the space with her senses, cautiously, then let out a small sigh.

"Xynareth cannot see in here," she said finally. "Not without a great cost."

Nerys nodded. "Space does not like being pressed from all sides."

Sylvia removed her war mantle, allowing it to turn into a thin shadow before vanishing. She stood for a moment, feeling the pulse in her chest stabilize once more. For the first time since that black beach, her mind was not bombarded by possibilities.

But that silence was soon filled by something heavier.

Four had fallen.

Two remained.

Xynareth and Zha’gor would not stay idle.

Sylvia gazed at the temple walls glistening faintly. In her mind, she weighed not just power, but consequences. Xynareth was a space she would attack not with violence, but with placement. Separating. Shifting. Turning distance into a weapon. And Zha’gor... Sylvia felt an unease she could not name. Beginning and end were not enemies that could be forced into combat. It waited. It was locked.

"Our time is limited," Sylvia said at last, breaking the silence. "Not because they will attack now. But because they will adapt."

Stacia opened her eyes. "Xynareth will try to understand our patterns. Zha’gor will wait for a mistake."

Alicia smiled wearily without opening her eyes. "Those souls... they know. There’s a new restlessness. Like the world is holding its breath longer than usual."

Sofia lifted her head slightly. "Then... we must change too."

Sylvia turned to her.

"Not just heal," Sofia continued, her voice soft but firm. "I must understand this wound. A conceptual attack... it leaves traces. If I don’t comprehend it, it will be used again."

Sylvia nodded. "I will help you."

The small treant climbed onto the bench, sat near Sofia, then pressed a tiny branch against the wound covered in light.

Plop.

(Good...)

Nerys observed everything with an expression hard to read. Finally, she spoke, her voice lower than usual.

"You have shifted the balance," she said. "Not just on land. In the sea as well. The other gods will feel the ripples."

"Let them," Sylvia replied flatly. "They have been comfortable for too long."

Nerys smiled faintly. "You truly leave no path of return."

Sylvia did not deny it.

She stepped to the center of the temple, then sat on the floor, her back leaning against a coral pillar. A simple position, almost human. She closed her eyes for a moment, sensing the others’ presence Sofia breathing softly, Alicia half-asleep, Stacia keeping silent watch, the small treant finally sitting still.

For the first time since this war began, they were not moving.

And that... felt right.

Outside the temple, the sea currents swirled slowly, layered like living walls. The pressure increased slightly, then stabilized, sealing every possible gap.

Far away in a place with neither up nor down, space trembled subtly.

Xynareth sensed something vanishing from its reach.

And even farther, at the threshold that was neither beginning nor end, something opened one eye.

Zha’gor waited.

In the ocean depths, Sylvia opened her eyes again, her gaze calm.

"Rest," she said softly, more to herself. "Tomorrow... we learn how to kill what cannot be touched."

Sylvia sat leaning against the pillar, her back straight but her shoulders slightly lowered. She did not sleep. She let her mind move slowly, reorganizing what had just happened not as regret, but as a map. In her thoughts, two names resurfaced, not as enemies to face immediately, but as problems to unravel.

Space.

Beginning and end.

She raised her own hand, staring at the palm that had earlier ignited both death and war. The two flames were now calm, separated, as if aware of the new boundaries Sylvia had imposed on herself. She drew a long breath, then released it slowly.

"I won’t repeat it," she murmured softly. Not as an oath to the world, but to herself.

On the other side of the room, Sofia drifted into half-sleep. Her breathing was steadier now, though each inhalation still felt heavy. The conceptual wound no longer screamed, but it lingered, like a cold line cleaving her consciousness. Occasionally, her fingers twitched reflexively, as if reaching for something absent.

The small treant sat beside her, leaning against the coral bench. Its cracked branches began to dry, a thin layer of green light sealing the scars. It gazed at Sofia for a long time, then turned toward Sylvia.

Plop.

(Safe... for now.)

Alicia woke slowly, rubbing her face with both hands. Her eyes were red, not from crying, but from too much stillness. She took a deep breath, then released it with a small tremor.

"Those souls have finally calmed," she said softly. "Not gone. Just... waiting."

Sylvia turned to her. "Waiting for what?"

Alicia shook her head. "I don’t know. But they’re not panicking. That’s rare."

Stacia, standing near the wall, opened her eyes from her brief meditation. "Because the sea holds the echoes," she said. "And because your decision has been made."

Sylvia did not smile. "Decisions can be wrong."

"They can," Stacia replied honestly. "But delaying is also a decision."

The words hung for a moment, then sank with the ocean’s pressure.

Nerys stepped closer, her feet silent on the coral floor. The sea goddess regarded them one by one, then stopped before Sylvia. There was something different in her gaze, not submission, not defiance. Caution.

"If Xynareth tries to force its gaze," Nerys said, "I will sense it. Space does not like being pressed in the depths."

"And Zha’gor?" Sylvia asked.

Nerys was silent longer. "Beginning and end do not come. It... waits for others to come to it."

Sylvia nodded. "Then we will not come."

She stood slowly, walked closer to Sofia, then stopped. Her hand extended, hesitated for a moment, then rested lightly in the air above Sofia’s chest, not touching. She fully restrained the Death Flame, allowing only calm warmth to flow.

"Recover," she said softly. "I need you whole."

Sofia did not reply, but her breathing deepened slightly.

Sylvia turned to the others. "We will stay here until these wounds no longer dictate our steps. After that... we will not pursue it."

Alicia blinked. "We bait them?"

"We close the door," Sylvia replied. "And see who tries to open it."

Stacia nodded slowly, the threads of time around her beginning to weave a pattern of vigilance, not attack. The small treant stood, patting its own chest with a tiny branch.

Plop!

(Guard!)

Outside the temple, the sea currents swirled tighter, sealing the final gap. The pressure rose slightly, then stabilized, like a living wall that understood commands without words.