Warlock of Oceans: My Poseidon System-Chapter 364: Second Floor: The Gaurdian of Autumn Toads (2)
Strange, melodic croaks and chirps echoed through the marsh, the sounds of the toads that gave this floor its name. The creatures were well-hidden, their voices blending seamlessly with the natural symphony of the marshland. Occasionally, a splash could be heard in the distance, followed by a rustling of leaves, as something unseen moved through the water.
As they pressed on, Cyrus noticed that the marshland seemed to breathe with a life of its own. The trees creaked and groaned in the slight breeze, their branches swaying as if reaching out toward the travelers. The ground itself seemed to pulse with an almost rhythmic energy, as though the marsh was a living, breathing entity, aware of its presence.
Athena, walking beside him, seemed unfazed by the eerie atmosphere. She moved with a graceful confidence, her footsteps light and sure, despite the treacherous terrain. As they navigated through the twisting paths, she would occasionally point out small details—a particularly vibrant cluster of fungi, a tree with bark that looked like the face of a sleeping giant, or a pool of water that reflected the canopy above like a perfect mirror.
Cyrus couldn’t shake the feeling that this place was alive, that it was watching them, judging them. Yet, there was also a strange sense of peace here, a quiet that settled over them like a blanket, muffling the outside world. The Garden of Autumn Toads was a place of contrasts—both beautiful and dangerous, serene and unsettling. It was a place where nature reigned supreme, indifferent to the struggles of those who dared to traverse its depths.
As they moved further into the marsh, the mist grew thicker, the trees closer together, and the light dimmer. The garden seemed to close in around them, the air growing heavier with each step. Yet, despite the oppressive atmosphere, Cyrus felt a thrill of excitement. This was a new challenge, a new mystery to unravel. And with Athena by his side, he was ready to face whatever the Garden of Autumn Toads had in store.
As Cyrus and Athena continued their journey through the marsh, the mist parted just enough for them to catch sight of a small group of creatures moving in the distance. The sound of squelching mud accompanied their slow, lumbering steps. It was the toads—autumn toads—creatures of the marsh that lived up to their grotesque reputation.
The first thing Cyrus noticed was their sheer size. These were no ordinary toads; they stood at nearly the height of a grown man, their bloated bodies covered in a slick, mottled skin that shifted between deep reds, muddy browns, and sickly yellows, as if their very flesh was a part of the dying season around them. Their backs were hunched and covered in uneven warts and lumps, some of which oozed a foul, viscous liquid that dripped into the mud with soft plops.
Their legs were thick and powerful, yet they moved with an eerie slowness, as if weighed down by their own bulk. Webbed feet, disproportionately large for their bodies, made wet slapping noises as they trudged through the muck, leaving deep imprints in the marsh. Their movements were unhurried, almost lazy, but there was a dangerous air about them, a sense that they could spring into action at any moment.
Their heads were perhaps the most horrifying. Enormous, bulging eyes protruded from the tops of their skulls, their pupils mere slits that scanned the environment with unsettling precision. The eyes themselves had a milky, almost clouded quality, like those of creatures that had lived far too long in the shadows. Their wide mouths stretched across the lower half of their faces, lined with rows of sharp, needle-like teeth that gleamed in the faint light filtering through the canopy. Every now and then, their thick, slimy tongues would flick out, tasting the air for signs of prey.
Their bellies swayed with each step, the bloated sacks of flesh quivering as if filled with some unseen, volatile gas. Occasionally, one of the toads would stop and let out a low, guttural croak that reverberated through the marsh, sending ripples through the mist. The sound was deep and primal, carrying an ominous note that hinted at the creatures’ predatory nature.
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As the group of toads passed by, Cyrus could see their skin pulsing, almost like it was breathing independently of the rest of their bodies. One of them paused, turning its head slightly toward the travelers, its massive eyes locking onto them for a brief, unsettling moment. Cyrus felt a chill run down his spine, but the toad didn’t approach—it merely stared, as though weighing the potential threat, before slowly resuming its lumbering pace.
Athena remained calm, watching them with a detached interest. "They’re not aggressive unless provoked," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the thick atmosphere of the marsh. "But if you cross them, they’ll devour you whole."
"Oh yeah?"
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"Well, for normal adventurers," Athena smirked.
Cyrus watched as the grotesque pack of autumn toads lumbered further into the mist, their heavy bodies shifting through the bog with deceptive slowness. A sudden spark of determination ignited within him. He couldn’t just let them disappear into the fog like that—something about the creatures piqued his curiosity, and a challenge stirred inside him.
Without a word, he took off after them. His feet moved swiftly over the uneven, marshy terrain, splashing through shallow puddles and thick mud. His senses sharpened, eyes locking onto the dull shapes of the toads as they plodded ahead. He kept his breathing steady, calculating the distance, and preparing to strike.
He was closing in fast, the bulk of the pack just ahead when the first toad seemed to sense his approach. With a sluggish, deliberate motion, it turned its enormous head toward him, those bulbous, milky eyes narrowing as if realizing that something dared to challenge them. And then, as if triggered by some unseen signal, the entire group of toads stopped in their tracks.
The next moment was a blur of unsettling sound and force.
The toads opened their wide, gaping mouths in unison and let out a collective screech—a guttural, ear-piercing noise that seemed to vibrate the very air around them. The sound was unlike anything Cyrus had heard before. It was primal, unnatural, and full of rage, like the sound of a storm tearing through the sky. The screech wasn’t just a noise; it was a force. A physical wave of sound blasted out from the pack, pushing against him like a hurricane wind.
Cyrus felt the impact immediately. His body staggered, his feet sliding back through the thick mud as the sheer intensity of the sound assaulted him. The force of it pushed him back a few inches, surprising him with its strength. His muscles strained against the invisible push, and his head rang with the aftershock of the screech. The thick, noxious breath of the toads filled the air, carried on the sound, making it hard to breathe.
For a brief moment, Cyrus had to plant his feet hard into the ground to keep his balance. He narrowed his eyes against the screech, gritting his teeth to block out the piercing noise. His heart pounded in his chest, and a thrill ran through him. The toads were much more dangerous than they appeared.
As the screech subsided, the toads loomed before him, their grotesque bodies shimmering with slime in the damp air. They were waiting now, anticipating his next move. Cyrus, unshaken by the intensity of their call, smirked. His hand tightened around the hilt of his summoned aetheric sword, the ethereal blade glowing faintly in the mist.
"That’s more like it," he muttered, feeling the adrenaline course through him. Now, it was a real fight.
Cyrus’s smirk grew as he squared off against the Autumn Toads, his aetheric sword humming with energy in his hand. The toads shifted uneasily, their bloated bodies swaying as their milky eyes fixed on him. Their mottled, slimy skin shimmered under the faint light filtering through the mist, their grotesque forms blending into the eerie landscape around them.
Without hesitation, Cyrus dashed forward, his movements swift and graceful despite the muck and mire beneath his feet. The first toad lunged at him with a sudden, jerky motion, its large, slimy leg sweeping out in an attempt to knock him off balance. Cyrus easily sidestepped the attack, his keen eyes tracking the toad’s sluggish movements. The aetheric blade in his hand flickered like a living extension of his will, and with a smooth, precise motion, he swung it downward.
The blade sliced through the toad’s thick, gelatinous flesh as if it were air, leaving a glowing, ethereal trail behind it. The toad let out a guttural croak of pain, its body recoiling as dark, noxious blood splattered the ground. Cyrus barely flinched, already shifting his stance to face the next threat.
The remaining toads, perhaps enraged by the sight of their wounded companion, moved in unison. One toad leaped toward him, its bloated body soaring through the air with surprising speed, while another lashed out with its grotesque tongue, aiming to wrap it around Cyrus’s leg and pull him into the mud.
Cyrus was ready.
