It’s not worth it, his body told him. You’ll never win. But he had to try. Slick tendrils of ooze came up at him from the churning river of Ridium underfoot. They grabbed onto his arms, legs—anything they could find—and attempted to pull him back down. It took all the concentration he could muster to defend against them, keep his footing. One wrong move and he would be swallowed. Suffocated. All the while, Matigo approached. He took slow, deliberate footsteps, collecting errant Ridium as he went. Cassius felt his own suit begin to pull from his body. Matigo was slowly taking it over, like a magnet yanking harder than Cassius could match. If he didn’t have Ridium, he was finished. With one last gasp, he conjured a whip, extended from his right arm. It cracked through the air, long enough to wrap around Matigo’s neck. Without wasting a moment, Cassius conjured fire. He allowed it to stream down the length of the coil until it met with Matigo’s skin.
