Two more frogs leaped from different angles, trying to flank us. Jordan’s shadows caught the left one mid-air and slamd it down into the muck hard enough to crack the root beneath it. Naomi spun and fired, obliterating the right one completely.
"Keep moving!" Misato’s clone engaged three frogs at once, buying us space.
We scrambled across the roots, making it another thirty ters before the terrain forced us to drop back into the water. The mont my boots hit the muck, sothing wrapped around my ankle.
Cold. Slimy. Strong.
I looked down and saw a tentacle. Pale grey, covered in mucus that shimred faintly in the swamp light.
"What the hell—"
It yanked.
I went down hard, water rushing up to et my face. My tactical suit hissed and sparked where the tentacle touched it. The fabric started dissolving, eaten through by whatever chemical horror coated the thing.
"Jace!" Naomi’s voice, distant through the water in my ears.
I thrashed, trying to find purchase, but the tentacle dragged deeper into the muck. My spear slipped from my grip, sinking into the murk.
The mucus spread up my leg, and I felt my pant leg disintegrating. The sli touched skin and burned, not fire-hot but acid-cold, numbing and horrible.
Jordan’s shadow whipped past my face and grabbed the tentacle, ripping it off my leg. I broke the surface, gasping, and Belle was right there, her hand extended.
I grabbed it, and she pulled up onto another root cluster.
"You okay?" Her eyes scanned quickly, professional.
"Peachy." I looked down at my leg. The tactical suit was shredded from ankle to knee, the fabric hanging in dissolved strips. My skin beneath showed angry red welts where the mucus had made contact. "What the fuck was that?"
"Mire tendril," Misato said, appearing beside us with her spear ready. "Ambush predator. Lives in the mud, grabs prey, dissolves them slowly."
"Slowly. Great. Love that for ."
Belle already had her dical kit out, spraying sothing on my leg that stung like hell before going blessedly numb. "This’ll stop the burn. Try not to fall in the water again."
"Wasn’t planning on it."
Jordan pointed at the water where the tendril had retreated. "How many of those things are down there?"
"Probably dozens," Misato said, way too cheerful about it. "So watch your step."
My spear bobbed in the water a few feet away, caught on a subrged root. I waded over carefully, retrieved it, and checked the blade. Still intact, though the wooden shaft already showed signs of corrosion where the water had touched it.
"This place is bullshit," I announced to no one in particular.
"Agreed," Jordan said. "Can we leave now?"
"Sixty-five points first." Belle was already moving again, following Misato toward higher ground. "Then we can complain."
We pushed forward through the swamp, hopping between roots and stone outcroppings like the world’s worst ga of hopscotch. The water level varied wildly from one step to the next. Sotis ankle-deep, sotis up to our thighs, forcing us to wade through with our weapons held high and our eyes scanning for more tendrils.
The mud sucked at our boots. The air tasted like rot. And sowhere in the distance, sothing bellowed, long and low and deeply uninterested in our survival.
My socks were absolutely ruined. Soaked through, squelching with every step, rubbing blisters into my heels despite the tactical boots. I’d survived Crawlers, fought a Reaper, killed an alpha, and rebuilt my entire body from scratch.
But wet socks? Wet socks were my villain origin story.
Naomi caught my expression and actually laughed. "What?"
"Just contemplating the cruel irony of the universe."
"Deep thoughts for a swamp."
"My socks are having an existential crisis."
She bumped her shoulder against mine. "Focus."
"I am focused. Focused on how much I hate this."
Belle stopped ahead of us, raising a fist. We all froze.
She pointed left, where the water rippled in concentric circles. Sothing big moved just beneath the surface, disturbing the muck without breaking through.
Misato’s clone split off, circling wide to get a better angle.
The sothing burst upward in an explosion of swamp water and rage.
Not a frog this ti.
A snake. Massive, thick as my torso, scaled in patterns of green and black that would’ve been beautiful if the thing wasn’t actively trying to murder us. Its head alone was the size of a trash can, with fangs like kitchen knives and eyes that tracked our movents with cold intelligence.
It struck at Misato’s clone with blinding speed.
The clone dodged, barely, the fangs snapping shut on empty air inches from where her head had been. She rolled, ca up in a crouch, and drove her spear into the snake’s side.
The blade bounced off.
"Armored!" Misato called out. "Aim for the eyes or throat!"
The snake coiled, its body wrapping around a tree trunk for leverage, and launched itself at Naomi.
I didn’t think. Just moved.
Wave Motion fired from my palm, a golden spiral that caught the snake’s open mouth mid-strike. The blast detonated inside its throat, blowing out the back of its skull in a spray of gore and venom.
The snake convulsed once, twice, then went still.
◆ KILL CONFIRD ◆
SWAMP VIPER (D-RANK)
18 EXP
1 CORE (COMMON)
Belle waded over to the corpse and pried the core from its skull, a dull green orb the size of a golf ball. "That’s one. Sixty-four to go."
"Fantastic." Jordan was already scanning the water for more threats. "At this rate, we’ll be here until midnight."
Naomi checked her stamina bar, still at ninety percent. "I’m good for ten more blasts before I need to slow down."
"Save them," Misato ordered. "We don’t know what the boss looks like yet."
We continued forward, the swamp growing progressively worse. The trees thickened, blocking out more light. The water turned darker, murky brown instead of green. And the sll. God, the sll intensified into sothing physical, like breathing through a wet towel soaked in garbage juice.
"I’m gonna puke," Jordan announced.
"Do it on your own ti," Belle replied, her voice muffled behind her tactical mask.
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