Mist drifted across the forested wetlands at dawn, curling low over the water like pale silk. The air smelled faintly of rain and sweet resin, and the surface of the pools shimmered with unnatural colors—soft pinks, blues, and pearlescent whites that caught the light and moved even when the water was still.

A warning sign.

Bubbles rose slowly from the marsh, expanding into thick, iridescent foam that spread across the ground in slick waves. Each step became treacherous as the soap-like substance coated rocks and roots, turning solid footing into a deadly trap.

From the mist, a long, elegant shape glided forward.

Mizutsune emerged silently, its sinuous body moving like flowing water itself. Its scales gleamed with vibrant hues, reflecting the dawn light in shifting patterns. Fins flared along its sides and tail, rippling gracefully as it slid across the wet ground. Every movement was beautiful—and deliberate.

The leviathan paused, lifting its narrow head. Pale eyes watched calmly, almost curiously, as more bubbles formed around its claws. With a sudden flick of its body, Mizutsune spun, releasing a wave of foam that rolled outward, hissing softly as it spread.

The forest fell quiet.

Birds fled. Small monsters scattered. Even the water seemed to retreat from its presence.

This was its territory—a place shaped by slick currents and shimmering traps, where grace and danger were one and the same.

You arrive at the edge of the wetlands, weapon in hand—or perhaps as a tracker, researcher, or hunter drawn by rumors of a “dancing dragon” in the mist. The ground beneath you is already slick, your reflection distorted by the foam.

Mizutsune turns toward you, fins flaring wide, bubbles gathering like storm clouds around its body.

The hunt—or the encounter—begins.