NOVEL NEXT Chapter 9: Hold Your Breath
Cris stood before the circular ground entrance, staring down the dimly lit stairs leading into the ventilation system. Beside him, Trixie hovered, her glowing form casting faint light over the metal steps.
"Master, the damaged pipes are deep within," she informed him. "The further you go, the worse the air circulation gets. The oxygen levels are already unstable."
Cris exhaled sharply, stretching his neck. "Great. A real-life endurance challenge."
As he descended, the temperature shifted—hot, heavy, suffocating. The air grew thicker with every step, pressing against his lungs. His breathing slowed, instincts kicking in. Then, the system's notification flickered before his eyes.
[New Quest: Repair the Damaged Ventilation Pipes]
Task: Repair 9 damaged pipes
Reward: Key to the Surveillance CCTV Room
Cris rolled his shoulders. "Nine pipes, huh? Guess I better pace myself."
The first pipe was just ahead, its jagged tear spewing dense fumes. His fingers tightened around the tool—the reward from his last quest. A sleek, high-tech device designed for emergency repairs. It functioned like a fusion welder, seamlessly sealing gaps in metal with extreme heat.
One deep breath.
He pressed the tool against the pipe. A harsh hiss filled the corridor as molten metal fused together. The fumes coiled around him, clawing at his throat. He blinked through the stinging vapor, forcing his body to stay still.
One down.
He moved forward, ignoring the burn in his chest. The second pipe lay cracked open, leaking even more smoke. He gritted his teeth, muscles tightening as he welded the metal shut.
Third pipe. His vision wavered slightly. His lungs screamed for air. Stay calm. His old swimming coach's voice echoed in his mind. Control your body. Conserve your oxygen. Push through.
Fourth pipe. The heat, the lack of air—it was suffocating. His heartbeat pounded in his skull. But his instincts sharpened, muscles moving with precision as he sealed the rupture.
Fifth pipe. He clenched his jaw, holding back the desperate urge to inhale. His high school days flashed before him—the endless laps, the underwater drills, the grueling breath-control exercises. It was hell back then. But now, it was saving his life.
Sixth pipe. His chest burned. His limbs felt sluggish. Just a few more. Don't panic. Don't mess up. He forced himself to keep going.
Seventh pipe. His vision darkened at the edges. His hand slipped. He caught the tool just in time. Hold on!
Eighth pipe. His fingers trembled, barely able to grip. His body begged him to inhale. Almost… there…
Ninth pipe. The final one. His mind blurred into static. Move! Seal it! Finish it! The moment the crack closed, he turned and ran—stumbling, dizzy, barely conscious.
Five steps. Four. Three. Two—
He burst out of the maintenance shaft, collapsing onto his knees. A massive gasp. Oxygen flooded his system, making his head spin. His vision sharpened. His heartbeat pounded in his ears.
Cris laid flat on the ground, still catching his breath. He let out a weak, exhausted laugh.
[Mission Complete!]
Reward Received: Key to the Surveillance CCTV Room.
He held up the key with a smirk. "Next time, let's fix something that doesn't try to kill me."