Ben kept pressing the attack His pickaxe cleaved through another watery limb, slicing it in two—only for the pieces to surge back and reform like they'd never been cut at all.
But Ben had fought enough regenerating monsters to know the truth—nothing regenerated without a cost.
It was draining mana every time it healed..
Then, without warning, it stopped attacking.
The fluid body dashed back, leaping toward the cocoon still swirling with light and magic.
Ben's eyes narrowed. The cocoon pulsed once—then imploded.
A shockwave ripped across the water as the cocoon collapsed inward, forcing the entire lake to erupt upward. Rain hammered down over the area in a sudden, torrential downpour. Mist rose high into the air, coating everything in a glowing fog of purple mana.
Ben braced himself, arm shielding his eyes. And from the mist—she stepped out.
The Lady of the Lake, No longer monstrous. She had changed.
Still massive in presence, but now in the form of a beautiful woman—her body still bore hints of her old form: glowing eyes, smooth, and long tentacle-like hair that shimmered like water caught in sunlight.
She walked forward slowly, her bare feet touching the lake's surface without sinking. Every step left ripples of magic behind her.
Ben tightened his grip on the pickaxe. "So this is your real form?"
The lady of the lake smiled, "What's real form? Each one you see is my real form."
In a blink—she was on him. Her fist slammed toward his jaw, fast and sharp.
Ben barely blocked, the impact sending a jolt up his arm. She spun, leg sweeping low, catching his ankle and throwing him off balance. He hit the water hard but rolled with it, catching himself mid-motion.
It was like fighting a martial artist made of water.
Ben fought aggressively, each swing of his pickaxe forcing the Lady of the Lake to twist and weave.
She struck with folded elbows, open-palmed swipes, and whip-fast kicks that seemed to flow from one motion to the next.
Ben could barely keep up.
Through the haze of pain and steam, he began to watch. To learn. He tracked the motion of her hips before each attack, the shift of mana before each strike.
He adjusted. Instead of chasing her body, he focused on where her next step would be.
Instead of slamming the pickaxe down, he cut the swing shorter, tighter, trying to match the rhythm of her footwork.
It almost worked. He saw an opening—her shoulder dipped slightly before a roundhouse strike. He ducked, twisting around her back, ready to bring the pickaxe down on her side But she vanished.
Water sprayed as she melted into the mist for half a heartbeat—then reformed just behind him.
"Not bad," she whispered.
Then her elbow slammed into his spine.
Ben gasped, the air leaving his lungs as his knees buckled. She didn't let up. A sweeping leg caught him in the ribs, launching him off his feet.
He slammed into the water hard enough to crater it, waves exploding outward. He groaned, coughing, struggling to get up as the rain continued to fall around him.
Ben spat out a mouthful of lakewater, shaking the droplets from his face. His hands trembled slightly—not from exhaustion, not from pain, but from something else entirely.
Throughout the fight, he'd been learning. Adapting. So far all his enemies other than Elvira is a beast, creatures that relied on brute force, instinct, raw power. There was little to study beyond their muscle and speed.
But the Lady of the Lake? She was different.
With each exchange, Ben could feel it—his body adjusting, his instincts sharpening.
"You're good," he said, rising to his feet as water streamed down his back. "But I'm not done yet."
The Lady of the Lake studied him. Then, unexpectedly, her brow furrowed slightly in confusion.
"With your strength," she said softly, "you should already know the answer. You're not like the other poor travelers who arrived in this layer."
Ben raised an eyebrow. "I don't know anything. That's exactly why I'm going this far to get the answers from you."
She regarded him in silence for a few seconds, the mist swirling faintly around her. Then she gave a slow nod. "Very well. I'll tell you what I know."
Ben narrowed his eyes. "Just like that?"
"There's a condition," she said, folding her arms. "You'll help me. Just once. When the time comes."
He blinked. "That's vague as hell."
"I'm aware," she said dryly.
"Why the sudden change of heart?"
"Because now I see you're strong enough to matter," she replied simply. "Before, you were just another traveler. But now…" She tilted her head. "Now you're someone I can use."
Ben grunted. "Honest. I like that."
"I don't need to lie," she said. "And neither do you. But if you are the type to break promises, then your help would've been useless anyway. So really—I lose nothing."
He squinted at her, considering. "And the information?" he asked.
"It's not a grand secret," she said with a shrug. "You'll find out eventually. I'm just offering to save you time."
Ben gave a slow nod, then smirked. "Fine. But before we seal the deal—tell me more about those purple fish."
"The fish?" The Lady of the Lake raised her palm. A small orb of water formed above it, spinning gently before a tiny, glowing figure took shape inside—one of the purple fish, darting in circles.
"They're not real," she said. "Just magic constructs I created to train my control."
Ben groaned. "Damn it. So I can't breed them."
The Lady of the Lake laughed, a soft, amused chuckle. "You really thought you could raise something and harvest pure mana? Just like that?"
"Well," Ben shrugged, "one can hope."
She tilted her head, eyes gleaming. "You're not entirely wrong, though. There are creatures that can generate and store mana naturally. And some of them can even be bred."
Ben's eyes lit up. "Seriously? What kind?"
She leaned back slightly, thoughtful. "They're difficult to raise. Aggressive. Sensitive to mana fluctuations."