After years of insomnia, the Fish Woman finally found herself on fertile soil. Unable to land on it with her sweaty, poisoned feet, she stopped, daydreaming about the imminent jump.

Pointing her fingers at the owner of the fruitful land she wondered if he was able to handle her aura exuding miasma. And so she flickered, impatiently, for what it felt a million years.

But those little umbrella-holding slimes of hers wouldn't last much longer, heralding the inevitable cosmic ruin.