Clayton slowly reeled the dead fish closer to shore, a wide grin forming as he realized how big it actually was. It turned out to be a common grass carp—classified as a zero-star beast, often found just about everywhere.
After hauling it in, Clayton carefully cleaned the fish. He removed the guts, then grabbed some nearby reeds to tie it up. Since the weather was chilly, he wasn't too worried about it spoiling.
Ever the opportunist, he decided to use the fish guts as bait.
With his rod reset and the new bait ready, Clayton cast the line as far as he could. He slowly reeled it back in, giving it gentle, twitching motions to mimic a small fish.
Whether by luck or skill, the line suddenly went taut. A dark figure, about twenty centimeters long, broke the surface of the water.
Clayton's eyes lit up. Heart pounding with excitement, he engaged in a battle of strength and wits. He played the line masterfully, letting it run and reeling it back in until the fish finally tired.
When he pulled it onto shore, Clayton let out a cheer. It was a black snakehead.
The black snakehead was a one-star, lower-tier fish—known for being rich in nutrients and brimming with vital blood energy. It was especially valued by knight trainees for enhancing their physical training.
He tied it up with reeds like the first one, but didn't clean it right away. Not for any particular reason—he was just hooked on fishing now and didn't want to waste time.
He baited the hook again and cast it even farther than before. Clayton felt confident. The thrill of fishing was getting addictive.
He jiggled the line again, trying to lure another catch. But whether he was too impatient or there really were no fish nearby, he got nothing.
Still optimistic, he tried again. And again. Same result—nothing but fresh air.
Frustration began to creep in. So much for becoming the fishing king of the magic world.
Just when he was about to give up, a massive mouth suddenly burst from the water and clamped down on the hook. Sharp teeth glinted in the morning light.
The sudden force nearly dragged Clayton into the lake. He stumbled, barely keeping his footing. At first, he was annoyed—until he saw what was on the line.
"Holy crap, that's a Dragon-Scale Arowana!"
He immediately steadied himself, locking in for a real battle of wills. But instead of resisting, the fish began pulling him toward the water. His face paled. He couldn't match its strength.
Even though the Dragon-Scale Arowana was classified as a one-star lower-tier beast, its large size and faint dragon bloodline made it immensely powerful—a whole different league from the snakehead or grass carp.
Clayton refused to give up. He dug in his heels, struggling to regain control. But inch by inch, he was dragged closer to the water.
Then—an idea sparked.
"Now! Fire at it!" he shouted to his mini skeletons.
Snap! Snap!
Two water bullets shot toward the fish. It dodged like it had eyes on its back, but one shot grazed its side.
The arowana let out a screech.
Angggg!
The tension on the line loosened. Clayton seized the moment, adjusting his stance and pulling it closer to shore.
With careful maneuvering and a flicker of hope, he imagined all the delicious arowana dishes he could cook.
But before he could reel it all the way in, a shadow streaked through the water and latched onto the fish. The arowana panicked, thrashing wildly.
Clayton's eyes widened as he saw the fish get wrapped in a sticky black mass. Within seconds, it was almost entirely swallowed in thick, inky slime.
Disgust and dread washed over him. He was about to order his skeletons to fire again when—
ROAR!
Clayton froze. A tremor shook his soul. Before he realized it, he'd been pulled into the water—right where the fish had been moments earlier.
Snapping out of it, he found himself submerged. That roar hadn't just startled him—it had come from the arowana itself!
It dawned on him: the fish must've instinctively activated a latent dragon-lineage spell out of panic.
Normally, one-star beasts couldn't tap into those bloodline abilities. If the power had been active earlier, Clayton wouldn't have been able to drag it halfway to shore.
Now, he could only count himself unlucky. He had been so close to catching something truly valuable.
Disappointed but determined, Clayton swam to shore. On the way, he scooped up some of the arowana's blood—diluted with lake water, but still precious.
As he waded through the shallows, curses filled his mind—especially toward the black slime that had ruined his catch.
But as he trudged forward, something felt... off. The water resistance around his body was increasing. It felt oddly heavy.
He turned his head—and went pale.
"ARGHHH!"
Clinging to his back was a revolting mass of black goo. He quickly activated a water circulation spell, and thankfully, the creature detached.
Clayton swam furiously for land. He knew that fighting in water would sap his strength too quickly.
The slime monster chased without hesitation. Despite its shapeless form, it moved blazingly fast.
Clayton felt a chill crawl across his scalp. He cursed himself.
"Damn it! Why did I make a vow to face mysterious creatures?! One actually shows up, and now I'm running for my life!"
Panting and soaked, he finally scrambled onto solid ground. But the black slime was already upon him.
Snarling, Clayton whipped out a sickle from his spatial bag and slashed downward.
Swoosh!
The creature split in half effortlessly. Clayton blinked, then sighed in relief.
"Hah… So that's all it took? Why was I so scared?"
But his relief didn't last long.
The two severed halves wobbled—then fused back together.
Clayton's eyes bulged. He panicked and slashed again.
Splash! Splash!
Snap! Snap!
He hacked wildly as his skeletons fired water bullets in support—but it was all useless. The black slime kept regenerating like nothing had happened.
"Arghhh! What the hell?! None of this is working!" he shouted in frustration.
The creature closed in. Clayton didn't know how to stop it. His attacks were failing, and his skeletons were nearly out of mana.
As he and his minions slowed from exhaustion, the creature lunged and clung to his body—wrapping him in fine black filaments.
Clayton froze. He couldn't move—couldn't even breathe...