As Mikhail swam over to the islet, several forms of marine life tried to attack him.
Schools of fish with razor sharp teeth.
Brittle Stars.
Crabs.
A lot of crabs.
Way too many crabs, honestly. Enough to feed a village or two. Maybe even three.
However, as soon as they got close enough, they were paralyzed and began sinking for a while before swimming away in fear.
They were either just as strong as he was, or far weaker than him based on the faint pressure he felt emanating from them. Neither of which caused a feeling of fear to stir within the core of his being.
Something similar had probably happened in the dark fog as he came to this place, but since his ethereal sense of fear couldn't pick their presence up, he couldn't be entirely sure about that.
