There was once a miserable fish that lived in a puddle fated to dry.
It had no name, no memory, no knowledge of anything beyond water and breath.
But when the sun clawed higher each day and the puddle shrank, the fish began to understand what fear was.
It wished.
It wished to breathe air.
And somehow, against every rule etched into its weak bones, the fish flopped its way across the dirt. Its scales hardened. Its gills twisted, burned, and reshaped into lungs.
However, every second outside the water screamed death. Every inch of ground it crossed was a gamble against a thousand predators.
So it changed.
It bent its bones. It stretched cartilage into legs. It studied the things that crawled past it, and it made itself more like them.
The fish always saw something, needed something, and wished for it, and it always tried to achieve it.
Wanting to live but there's no source of food? The fish began to change its diet to anything that is available around it, whether it is a corroding corpse, metal, soil, or even air itself.
The fish never stopped moving because to stop was to die.
The fish learned how to become alive.
Ane day, it looked up and saw the sky.
It wished to fly.
And so it grew wings. And the fish didn't stop there.
As time went on, it grew teeth that could split mountains, a voice that could silence dimensions, a source of power that could grasp an entire civilization under extinction.
The fish stopped being a fish. It forgot what being a fish was. Its existence became a slow, brutal ascent toward absolute power.
But that power attracted enemies. It attracted worship. It attracted chaos.
The fish became a creature of myth, tasked with holding back storms of entropy, guarding boundaries even gods feared.
It acquired too much wisdom, and in return, too many responsibilities.
Its comprehension achieved so far that it felt obligated to perform a certain action to maintain the status quo of Fathomi thanks to its position and power.
This life was miserable, even more miserable than when it was once a miserable fish.
And this life went on, and on, and on, until it stopped counting.
It learned everything and forgot most of it. It kept living because it had forgotten how to stop.
And then, on one forgettable day, the old fish was told that it was a soulmate, by a Fateling, radiant and strange, yet dangerous angel who fell from the old sky.
"Huh, she is better at combat than I expected."
And now, that same Fateling was facing down a mutated brute with the head of a fish.
Samael leaned against a crooked branch, arms folded, watching the scene unfold below. A ripple of laughter tickled her throat.
Ever since Kivas emerged from cover and dashed forward, her Remington 870 was almost always primed against her shoulder. Her steps light and her cloak swirling around her boots. Mana churned within the barrel, converting intent into lethal velocity.
And now they both clashed like there was no tomorrow.
"Die, you abhorrent fish!"
"Glup blup!"
The fish-headed brute turned just in time for the shot to collide with its shoulder. Its thick muscle dented under the blast, but the creature remained standing.
Its teeth gleamed with slime as it lifted the massive slab of stone it used as a sword.
Kivas rolled sideways, avoiding the crushing weight of the swing, then lashed forward with the Serated Coralblade.
The dagger bit into the joint behind the brute's elbow, dragging crimson light from the wound. Speed surged through Kivas' limbs as the blade converted pain into acceleration.
"Gluglublub!"
The fishman roared and twisted, slamming the flat of its sword toward her.
Kivas ducked under it, twisted, and slid behind its leg, slicing the tendon clean with a reverse grip. She sprinted several paces back to recover distance, pumping another shell into the Remington and firing directly into the base of the fishman's neck.
Samael whistled softly. "That's a clean form. I think you've been practicing in your sleep! Either that, you used your skill to cheat again."
Kivas flinched mid-swing. "Stop distracting me!"
"You fight better under pressure."
"Not that kind of pressure!"
The fishman spun and threw its blade. Kivas leapt over the incoming stone, her cloak flaring.
The Driftwool Wrap dulled her movement's sound and shimmer, making her vanish briefly in the ambient mist of the environment.
Before the fishman could find her, she reappeared to the creature's flank, plunging the Voidwood Fang into its back.
The fish-headed brute roared and slammed its elbow into her side.
"Guh!"
Kivas staggered but held her ground, swinging her Coralblade in a wide arc and opening another laceration across its chest.
The brute stumbled, knees weakening under the onslaught.
With a final shot from the Remington into its leg joint, the fishman dropped to the dirt.
Kivas stepped back, panting, holding both weapons at the ready. Her body trembled slightly with residual adrenaline.
Samael approached slowly, gaze neutral. "Clean. Minimal injury. The wound on your ribs will fade in a minute when you use your Hemo Psyche."
"He's still alive."Kivas exhaled and stared down at the twitching fishman. She hesitated. "You want a share of the Nightmare?"
Samael smirked. "You did the work. You'll reap the reward. Besides, the more your soul contributes to the death, the more significant the Nightmare. Especially if you're the only one. It's more efficient that way."
Kivas grimaced. "Right. Bigger nightmare. Better attributes acquisition. But also worse trauma."
The fishman wheezed, lifting a trembling arm. His voice spilled through gurgling breath. "You... wretched things. You don't know... who I am…"
"Ah, it talked like a human," Kivas was genuinely surprised.
"I told you that it is a human," Samael retorted.
"No matter how much you pushed that agenda, I won't believe it."
The fishman continued to utter its last breath. "...I am a chosen, follower, of the Endless Dragon Samael…" Blood was spurted from its throat. "And when the almighty calamity finds you, will burn your souls... will crush your bones... will—"
Kivas furrowed her eyebrows. "Wait."
The brute groaned. "—will cast you into the void and—"
"You mean this Samael?" Kivas pointed sideways. "The one who's been giving me life advice and breakfast options for the past day?"
"...What?"
Samael crouched beside the dying brute and tilted her head. "Hello, Altahar. Still wearing that same armor of delusion, I see."
Kivas blinked in confusion. "You know him?"
"One of my old errand servants." Samael poked at Altahar's ridiculous fish head. "This wretch fetches relics, burns heretic nests, and brings tribute. Never much of a conversationalist. Bit too much zealotry."
"Avenge me… Lord Samael…"
Kivas wryly smiled, "Is it... okay that I killed him?"
Samael grinned with a smug. "You didn't kill him yet."
"Is it okay that I'm going to?"
"I don't care."
"May entropy shine homeward…" Altahar let out one final breath, gurgled something indecipherable, and fell still.
Kivas stood frozen for a moment, processing, bamboozled.
"Ah, right." Samael rose with a light stretch. "I've always avenged the ones who dare harm my toys, you know. Maybe I will avenge this human servant of mine."
"You gave me the green light!" Kivas turned to her with disbelief. "Also, this fish head is not a human!"
"Now that you hunted one, will you try to eat it?" Samael gave a flirty side eye.
"No."
Samael raised an eyebrow. "Not even a bite? This one is battle-cooked. Freshly tenderized. Good soul marrow."
Kivas cringed from the description. "It's a fish-headed man! I'm not committing cannibalism. That's where I draw the line."
"I thought you said that this being isn't human?"
"Humans still don't like eating human-like beings!"
"Pity," Samael said, walking away with a smile. "You need to be more open minded."
"More like open wide, splitted with a hatchet."