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—Adrian—
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For what felt like two days, I schemed endlessly, crafting increasingly ridiculous plans to cross the treacherous meadows. These once peaceful plains now felt like a war torn battlefield. I couldn’t be sure how much time had really passed—this forest seemed trapped in an eternal twilight where the sun never set—but exhaustion crept in after every failed attempt. Between retreats, I collapsed onto the bench that had become my temporary home, too tired to care.
That slime deserved a war medal from the Demon King himself for its dedication. It guarded the meadow like its life depended on it, turning every step forward into a personal challenge. In a series of attempts that would’ve made a certain wily coyote proud, I fashioned wooden spears, cobbled together crude swords, and even dug pit traps to sabotage the damn thing.
The spear, my first masterpiece, was as useless as I was. The moment I lunged to stab the slime, it swallowed the weapon whole and then turned it back on me, leaving me defenseless. I barely escaped back to the woods, its squishy form hot on my heels. Defeated and humiliated, I had no choice but to ask Ichni to patch up the holes in my backside—much to her amusement.
The wooden sword, my second attempt, fared a little better. I sliced through the summoned hoplops with ease, their shrieks of defeat fueling my confidence. But when I turned the blade on the slime itself, it melted the wooden tip like a sugar cube in tea. As if mocking me, a second slime had appeared, forcing me into yet another humiliating retreat.
By the third attempt, I was smarter—or so I thought. After carefully observing the foul creature’s movements, I crafted what I believed to be a foolproof plan. I dug a pit three meters deep, lined it with spears as a distraction, and prepared a barricade of rocks and dirt to bury the creature alive. With sticks and leaves concealing the trap, I surveyed my work with pride. Surely, this time, I’d outwit the bastard.
After it inevitably fell into the hole– slimy ears, antlers, and all– the first step was to cover it before it could simply hop back out. Then, once the full weight of the earth fell upon it, either the filled hole would act as a suitable grave, or bought myself enough time to get out of sight before it knew which way to pursue me. I had planned out several points to run off to, including a couple of the far off trees, in the event that the slime managed to escape faster than intended.
When the time came, everything started perfectly. The rabbit slime chased me, just as I’d predicted. I sprinted toward the pit, leaping gracefully over the hidden trap. With a triumphant grin, I prepared to activate phase two and bury the creature for good.
And then it happened.
The slime landed squarely on the pit’s covering, hunkered down, and slammed me square in the face. I failed to calculate the weight of the creature, and my branches, thick enough to support it, had failed to trigger the trap. It felt like I was being sucker-punched by both a gelatinous boulder and my own stupidity.
I should’ve known. I should’ve double-checked. I should’ve—ugh, I should’ve just run away again.
By the time I was on the ground, dazed and humiliated, Ichni had completely lost it. Her laughter echoed in my ears, loud and unapologetic, as I crawled backward to avoid another slime slap.
“Oh, Adrian! You look so pathetic!” she howled, materializing just long enough to point and cackle at my misery.
Something inside me snapped.
Fueled by equal parts rage and desperation, I lunged, grabbed her tail, and swung her around like the world’s angriest wrecking ball.
“AIIYYEEEEE, A-DRI-ANNNN~!” she shrieked as I smashed her into the slime, sending it skidding back half a foot.
“Use your teeth and claws, damn it!” I roared, swinging her again in a wide arc.
Ichni flailed helplessly, tears streaming down her face—not from combat but from sheer panic. “You idiot! I can’t fight like this!” she wailed, her claws swiping wildly but connecting with nothing.
After a few pathetic attempts, she let out a frustrated screech and vanished back into the gauntlet with a whoosh.
Realizing I was now alone again, I turned tail and ran. My “weapon” abandoned me, the slime recovered, and with humiliation burning hotter than ever—I was not about to stick around for round whatever-it-was.
By the time I dragged myself back to the bench, battered and bruised, Ichni made it clear I wasn’t getting any healing this time. She didn’t even say anything—just a smug silence that stung more than the bruises.
I slumped against the wood, staring blankly at the stripped canopy above. It was always the same. A harebrained scheme. A failed attack. A humiliating retreat. Rinse and repeat.
What was I missing? What crucial piece of the puzzle was staring me in the face while I just kept charging in like an idiot?
The slime wouldn’t fight me here, in the forest. Maybe it was the magic—something about the place screamed “welcome to the afterlife” to anyone or anything with a trace of life left in it. Whether it's the faint aroma of a rotting carcass or the lifeless wind that drifted it out, I wasn’t sure what was scaring the slime from entering the forest. It felt less like “Forest of Passing” and more like “Forest of No Return”.
What if I could drag the slime into the woods? Would it combust? Freeze in terror? The thought tempted me, but the logistics were... grim. Trying to carry a slime that could dissolve everything it touched? Yeah, no thanks. That wasn’t a plan. That was suicide.
But then another thought crept in.
What if I didn’t have to drag the slime here? What if... I brought the forest to it?
* * *
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
A few hours later, the meadow was abuzz with activity. A platoon of slimes and hoplops patrolled the perimeter under the watchful eye of their leader, the rabbit slime. It had clearly anticipated my next attempt to cross, having mobilized its forces into a makeshift army.
If that weren’t bad enough, the damn thing had erected a crude sign depicting Ichni and me—her looking devilishly smug, and me with a giant “X” over my face. The message was clear: not only was I unwelcome, but I was to be executed on sight.
The sound of rustling leaves and snapping branches grew louder, setting the meadow’s defenders on edge. One of the hoplop sentries cried out in alarm, its shrill voice rallying the troops into formation.
But when they saw what emerged from the forest, their courage evaporated.
Lumbering into view came a gargantuan bush—three meters tall, with massive tree branches for arms, hoplop skulls for eyes, and gnarled mushroom spears forming its grotesque, gnashing teeth.
The creature—one of the most terrifying “treants” ever to stalk the meadow—stomped over to the crude sign. It paused, as if reading the insult, then gave an angry shake and knocked it over with deliberate malice.
That was enough for several slimes, which promptly fled. Wood was their usual snack, but treants were an entirely different story. No slime worth its gelatin would dare pick a fight with a mean, green, magical lumber machine.
To them, trying to take one of these hulking monsters would be game over, as one good swing of its branches, or a grip from its gnarled roots could bust them apart like a child with bubble wrap. As the army began to desert, the rabbit slime watched in horror as the creature made a slow beeline towards the local human village.
As the treant advanced, it cast a slow, menacing glance at the rabbit slime. The creature immediately dove behind a rock, quivering in terror.
The treant paused, shifted its weight, and continued its steady march forward. The rabbit slime peeked out cautiously, visibly relieved that it wasn’t the treant’s target—for now.
The slime, of course, didn’t have the brainpower to realize my ruse was working flawlessly. Beneath the monstrous treant disguise was me—sweating, staggering, and carrying an absurd amount of foliage tied together with vines and Ichni’s webbing.
The thing weighed a ton, but it was the best plan we could muster after I’d grovelled before Ichni for forgiveness over the whole “flail incident.”
“We’re so abha,” Ichni murmured smugly from her perch inside the treant’s “mouth” as we trudged forward a few meters at a time. “I knew that slime would freak out if it thought a treant was hunting the fields.”
“That’s great and all,” I muttered, struggling to push the cumbersome disguise forward. Every step felt like I was carrying an actual tree. “But I don’t think I’m going to make it all the way to the village like this.”
“Oh, quit whining and put your back into it!” Ichni snapped, lounging comfortably on my shoulder as she peered out of the treant’s “mouth.”
“If you get too tired, we’ll just pull over, pretend to be a bush, and I’ll patch you up. Easy peasy. I’ve got you, mitre!” She flashed a confident grin, clearly enjoying herself more than she should.
The plan was, dare I say, foolproof. I’d march. I’d break down. She’d heal me during breaks. Rinse and repeat until we reach the village. So long as the branches held, the disguise was intimidating enough to keep the smaller monsters at bay.
When we reached the furthest point I’d ever gotten, we even gave each other a celebratory high five. It was probably the first moment of teamwork we’d ever shared. The Undead Odderoos are back in action, baby!
The monsters stayed away, just as we’d hoped. Ichni occasionally spotted the rabbit slime trailing us from a distance, but the others scattered without hesitation.
I got a little into the role, growling and shaking the treant costume at any hoplops foolish enough to linger. Maybe I had a future in acting—one of those costumed performers who jump out at kids in haunted mazes. Not a bad fallback if the whole hero thing didn’t pan out.
Just as I started to believe this might actually work, the ground beneath me shifted. My weight sagged, the treant costume tilted, and before I could react, I came crashing down into a hole from the bush now perched above me.
Before anyone, including Ichni, can yell, “You moron, you fell into your old trap!” I’d like to clarify: this was not my trap. This was the furthest we’d ever gotten, and I hadn’t dug any holes in this area!
Judging by her startled screech, Ichni was just as shocked as I was as we tumbled into what could only be described as a freshly dug tomb.
“What the hell is this?!” I shouted, groaning as I scrambled to my feet.
“How should I know?!” Ichni snapped, her voice dripping with indignation. “I didn’t see any stupid hole in front of us!”
For the record, I wasn’t blaming her. But it’s nice to know where her head’s at. We’re a team now, besties for resties! I wasn’t about to let a small problem demolish our freshly paved alliance!
As I looked around, my stomach sank. Tunnels branched out from the sides of the crater, their entrances crudely reinforced with dirt and wood. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut.
“That slimy bastard got the drop on us!” I roared. “It had the hoplops dig this trap!”
Fueled by fury, I scrambled toward the wall, using the tunnels as footholds to start climbing.
On the third foothold, a sharp jolt of pain shot up my leg. Something had stabbed clean through my boot.
Gritting my teeth, I yanked my foot back and peered into the shadows. A small wooden spear lay waiting at the tunnel’s entrance, perfectly positioned to catch anyone attempting to climb out. It was almost as if they’d known exactly how I’d react.
My climb turned into a careful, nerve-wracking ordeal. Every tunnel had to be checked for hidden traps before I dared use it as a foothold or handhold. Each step was slow, deliberate, and maddeningly tense.
After what felt like an eternity, I finally hauled myself back into the treant disguise. I peeked out of its now sagged “mouth” to assess the situation, and—
We were encircled by the enemy. Hoplops and slimes formed a tight ring around us, their numbers easily in the twenties. And at the center of it all, blocking my path forward like a smug little tyrant, was the rabbit slime.
Ichni shouted something in her harsh, guttural language that made my skin crawl. I didn’t understand a word, but I was fairly certain it was something I’d have to repent for if I ever dared repeat it.
The rabbit slime sat pleased at the head of the group, its beady red eyes gleaming with triumph. If it could’ve smirked, I was sure it would’ve.
I spun the treant suit in a slow circle, desperately searching for a way out. But there was no escape. The rabbit slime and its army had us completely in its ambush.