But Magnus didn’t waste a moment to catch his breath. His chest heaved, his pulse pounding in his ears, but his gaze remained locked on the river. There, just beneath the churning surface, Seraph’s form struggled against the murky shadows, her silver hair fanning out like threads of moonlight amidst the dark waters. Her movements were desperate, her hands clawing against the unyielding grip of another monstrous fish-man dragging her further into the depths.
A cold wave of fear swept over Magnus, but he shoved it aside, his instincts driving him forward. Without hesitation, he lunged toward the river as his lithe form sliced into the icy water. The chill was breathtaking, a sharp, biting cold that clung to his skin and sucked the air from his lungs. It wrapped around him like an unrelenting vise, but he pressed on, his powerful strokes cutting through the current with determined precision.
Cheese hurled itself toward the river, its gelatinous body splattering against the water’s surface with a faint, wet plop. Instead of sinking, its naturally buoyant form spread out, rippling slightly as it floated effortlessly atop the current. The slime’s color shifted to an anxious pale purple as it flailed its amorphous limbs in frantic, clumsy motions, creating small splashes that disturbed the glassy surface.
Despite its lack of weight or strength, Cheese was undeterred, its round, expressive eyes locked on Magnus as it stubbornly struggled to keep up. The slime’s movements were erratic but filled with an earnest determination, its jiggling form vibrating with the effort to propel itself forward across the shimmering water. It wobbled and bobbed with every ripple, a resilient little companion unwilling to let its limitations hold it back.
The sensations of swimming in the frigid water were a jarring mixture of pain and adrenaline. The chill seeped into his core, making his limbs feel heavy, but the urgency of the moment burned away any thought of slowing down. Every time he kicked, the currents tugged at his legs, as if the river itself wanted to drag him back, but Magnus countered with steady, practiced movements, his lithe form gliding with purpose.
His green eyes, fierce with determination, stayed locked on the grotesque silhouette ahead. The fish-man moved with an unnerving grace, its translucent fins trailing like ghostly veils as it spiraled deeper into the river’s murky depths. The light from above refracted through the water, casting shifting patterns that danced across its jagged, sinewy frame.
Magnus clenched his jaw against the ache in his chest, his breath burning as he forced himself to hold it longer. He adjusted his strokes, pulling himself down with sharp, deliberate motions. His mind raced as he calculated his next move, the water muffling all sound except for the pounding of his heart and the occasional distorted ripple of Seraph’s struggles.
Magnus surged through the water with powerful, unrelenting strokes, his body cutting through the icy current like a blade. His green eyes locked on the second fish-man, a grotesque silhouette in the wavering gloom. The creature’s scaly, sinewy body twisted and coiled as it propelled itself deeper, its jagged, translucent fins glowing faintly in the murky water.
Its webbed fingers dug cruelly into Seraph’s legs, the claws raking her skin as it dragged her further into the river’s depths. Seraph’s silver eyes, usually kind and gentle, were now wide with a terror she could no longer hide. They flickered frantically in every direction, seeking an escape, a miracle, something—anything—that could save her. Desperate bubbles burst from her trembling lips, rising in tiny, shimmering spirals that caught the faint glint of the moonlight filtering through the water’s rippling surface. Each bubble burst like a fleeting gasp of hope that quickly dissolved into the oppressive darkness around her.
Her struggles were weakening. Her limbs, once powerful and quick, now moved sluggishly, each motion a battle against the water’s overwhelming pressure and the creature’s unyielding pull. The river seemed to conspire against her, a swirling force that refused to let go, its icy grip sapping her strength with every passing second.
Her breaths were short and ragged, each one a battle against the choking sensation of water creeping into her lungs. Her once defiant movements were reduced to trembling gestures, the fight slipping from her as exhaustion and sheer determination waned beneath the merciless current’s relentless force.
Her silver hair, now disheveled and tangled, fanned out like threads of moonlight swirling around her face, contrasting starkly with the shadowy abyss pulling her under. The cold, unyielding water wrapped around her like chains, its grip suffocating and absolute.
Magnus’s jaw tightened into a hard line, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps as he surged through the water with unstoppable determination. Every stroke of his arms cut through the icy current with a fierce, unwavering drive, muscles screaming with the effort. His green eyes locked onto the monstrous silhouette of the creature ahead, a nightmare in the dark.
The fish-man’s bulbous, milky eyes stared blankly into the distance, the dead, glassy gaze a chilling emblem of soulless brutality. Gills expanded and contracted on either side of its scaly neck, the fleshy folds pulsing rhythmically with each labored movement. Its jagged, needle-like teeth protruded from a twisted mouth that hissed with guttural, rasping breaths, a sound that scraped like nails against Magnus’s resolve.
But it was the sight of Seraph that ignited the wildfire of fury in his chest. Her silver hair, a gleaming contrast against the murky darkness, was disappearing into the depths, her limbs flailing weakly against the creature’s unyielding grip. The realization of losing her spurred a tidal wave of rage through Magnus’s chest, a raw, blinding force that pushed him beyond his limits.
With a roar that gurgled into the water around him, Magnus thrust his hands forward, his fingers reaching out like spears of resolve. Every muscle in his body, every ounce of his strength, coiled and burned as he propelled himself forward with sheer willpower, fighting through the crushing resistance of the river and the exhaustion threatening to take him under. His vision narrowed to a razor-sharp focus on Seraph, on saving her, on breaking the monster’s hold, no matter the cost.
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Magnus gritted his teeth, the icy water biting into his skin as he pointed his staff, its polished wood gleaming faintly in the dim light filtering through the river. His green eyes burned with focus, a tempest of magic swirling within them. Summoning every ounce of his power, he extended the staff, the intricate runes etched along its length glowing with an otherworldly light.
With a sharp, commanding murmur that cut through the cacophony of splashes and desperate cries, Magnus summoned his magic. A surge of energy gathered at his fingertips, pulsing with a resonant intensity that rippled through his entire arm. The water around him began to respond, shifting and swirling as if he were the eye of a storm. Liquid currents coiled and twisted in intricate patterns, forming a dense, shimmering spear of liquid— a compact, unyielding projectile, glowing with a silken sheen that danced under the dim moonlight. Its surface rippled and warped like molten glass, catching the silvery light in brief, dazzling flashes that illuminated the dark water’s depths with fleeting brilliance.
With a flick of his wrist, Magnus propelled the water bullet forward. The projectile shot through the river with deadly grace, a streak of liquid lightning that tore through the murky gloom with surgical accuracy. The currents around it hissed as they parted, the force of its passage sending small waves radiating outward. It streaked through the water with breathtaking speed, a weapon of pure, unrelenting will.
The spear of liquid collided with the fish-man’s abdomen, a brutal, calculated strike that sent shockwaves through its sinewy body. The force of the impact drove the creature backward. Its eyes widened in shock as the projectile smashed through its flesh, leaving a deep, jagged wound just to the left of its center. Blood spattered outward in dark, swirling rivulets that stained the water, mingling with the ripples of the river’s currents in a grotesque, shimmering dance of death.
The creature’s grotesque, gilled face contorted in agony as it let out a strangled, guttural cry. The sound reverberated through the water, a haunting, alien wail that sent ripples cascading outward. Its webbed hands released Seraph instantly, its grip faltering as it clutched at its wound. A cloud of dark, inky blood billowed around the impact, staining the once-pristine waters with swirling crimson tendrils.
Seraph’s limp form drifted weightlessly in the murky depths, her silver hair spreading out like a shimmering halo, illuminated faintly by the moonlight piercing through the water. Her arms hung motionless at her sides, and her pale face was eerily serene, as though caught between unconsciousness and surrender.
Magnus’s chest tightened at the sight, urgency propelling him forward. He released his grip on the staff, and with a faint, subtle shimmer, it dematerialized into thin air, disappearing into his inventory. His strokes were powerful yet fluid, cutting through the resistance of the water with practiced ease. As he reached her, he extended one arm, wrapping it firmly yet gently around her waist. Her body was cold to the touch, a stark contrast to the warmth he desperately wished to bring her.
With a determined kick, Magnus pivoted, angling upward toward the shimmering surface above. His lungs burned, screaming for air, but he pushed the sensation aside, focusing entirely on the fragile figure in his grasp. The river’s currents tugged at them, a relentless pull that threatened to drag them deeper, but Magnus fought against it with every ounce of strength he had left.
Finally, his head broke through the water’s tension, a sharp gasp tearing from his lips as he sucked in the crisp night air. The icy wind bit at his damp skin, but relief flooded his senses as he hoisted Seraph above the surface. Her head lolled against his chest, her damp silver hair clinging to her face as small droplets traced down her ashen cheeks.
With labored breaths, Magnus began paddling toward the riverbank, his arm keeping her secure as he willed himself forward, his heart pounding with a single thought: She has to be okay.
Cheese, floating nearby like a determined little buoy, immediately sprang into action. With an almost comical wobble, it paddled frantically toward the shore, its gelatinous form sending up tiny splashes as it propelled itself forward. The moment it hit land, it launched itself into the air with an enthusiastic squelch, landing squarely on Seraph’s chest with a wet plop.
The impact forced a sharp gasp from her as water sprayed from her mouth in a series of uncontrollable coughs. Seraph’s silver eyes shot open, wide with shock as her body convulsed, trembling from the force of her sudden reawakening.
“What—what’s happening?” Seraph croaked between sputtering breaths, her voice hoarse and raw. She blinked rapidly, her disoriented gaze shifting down to the bright yellow blob currently jiggling victoriously atop her chest.
Magnus steadied Seraph carefully, one arm wrapped firmly around her shoulders to keep her upright as her trembling body leaned against him. His chest rose and fell with labored breaths, the strain of the ordeal evident in the faint tremor of his limbs. Cold droplets of water slid from his hair and down his face, but he barely noticed, his attention flicking toward the shore.
There, sprawled near the water’s edge, the first fish-man lay motionless, its grotesque body splayed awkwardly across the rocks. Its slimy, scaled skin glistened under the faint moonlight, and its gills fluttered weakly, as though gasping for air in its stunned state.
Beyond it, the second creature drifted lifelessly in the river. Its limp form floated facedown, grotesque fins trailing in the current. Dark ribbons of blood unfurled from its wound, staining the once-pristine water with inky tendrils that swirled and dissipated into the depths. The moonlight reflected off the rippling surface, casting a haunting glow over the scene, turning the river into a macabre canvas of death and motion.
Seraph’s silver eyes, wide with shock and lingering fear, followed Magnus’s line of sight. The serene beauty of the riverbank was now marred by the brutal evidence of their fight. The tranquil setting had transformed into a grim tableau of chaos—a stark reminder that danger often lurked beneath the surface of even the most idyllic landscapes.
The soft, moonlit glow highlighted the disarray: smudges of dark blood staining the smooth stones, and the eerie stillness of the unconscious and lifeless creatures that had attacked them. The gentle babble of the river, once soothing, now carried an unsettling undertone as it washed away traces of the struggle, the current swirling with diluted streaks of crimson.
Seraph’s chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, her body trembling as the gravity of what had just unfolded sank in. She turned her gaze to Magnus, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came. Instead, her expression said everything—a mixture of shock, gratitude, and fear.