Meanwhile…
Marcus gritted his teeth, his breath ragged as he fought against the endless, unyielding tide of watery opponents. The battlefield around him shimmered and churned—waves crashing unnaturally sideways, figures forming from the liquid all around them.
He ducked low, sweat flying from his brow as a razor-sharp trident narrowly missed impaling his skull. The wind from the strike hissed past his ear, and he rolled with the momentum, twisting around to retaliate with a sharp mana-infused punch.
"Isn't this…" he muttered between breaths, limbs burning, lungs aflame, "...the dimension where Cynthia gets her power in the game?"
He pivoted on his heel, sidestepping an enemy just in time to drive his elbow into its chest, which burst into a splash of cursed water. Another figure lunged at him from the left—he spun and delivered a mana-coated roundhouse, shattering it mid-form.
