Seeing the troubles the team was facing Barbara made her decision.
Barbara clenched her teeth. "I’m running back!" she shouted, not waiting for a reply. She turned and sprinted towards the entrance of the dungeon, her heart pounding in her chest. Slimes tried to block her path, but Barbara’s sword and shield skills were sharp, and she cut her way through, slicing down the gelatinous creatures as fast as they appeared. She had to get help before it was too late.
Barbara dashed to the dungeon entrance, panting, but she didn’t waste any time. She shimmied up the rope like a monkey on crack, bursting into the open air and scanning the group of fighters and porters waiting outside.
"Everybody, listen up! Especially the porters!" she yelled, her voice carrying over the camp. "Who has salt on them?"
Lark, one of the porters, raised his hand. "I do! You saw me use it when I was field dressing that deer earlier."
"Me too," another porter chimed in. In fact, most of the twenty five porters had bags of salt—used for curing meat during their long treks back to Fort Bone. It had become a habit to carry salt, knowing that without it, meat would likely spoil before they made it home.
Barbara, glancing at the dungeon entrance, knew time was running out. There were only a couple of minutes before the dungeon would allow another twenty people in. "New group formation!" she shouted. "Who’s the fastest? I need strong tanks and people with good aim! Two groups, come on!"
Quickly, the fighters formed up. Barbara organized them into a new team of 21, including herself. One of the new recruits had been killed from team one, so now there was that empty slot.
She pulled out the bags of salt, handing it out to those who claimed to have the best aim and strongest throws.
"When we get inside, I need you to start throwing handfuls of salt at the slimes. Aim for the cores," she instructed.
One of the newbies looked skeptical. "The salt’s just gonna scatter," he said.
"Not if you wet it down a bit, or pack it tight," Barbara replied. "Grip it hard enough and make a crappy snowball—well, a salt ball—and chuck it as fast as you can."
The newbie nodded slowly. "I guess that could work."
Barbara glanced at the dungeon again. "Alright, time’s up! Let’s go!"
The ten tanks took the lead, rappelling down into the dungeon first. The rest of the group followed, protected by the tanks as they navigated the gelatinous corridors. When they reached the main team, the sight of their exhausted comrades spurred them into action.
"We’re here!" Barbara called out. "Everyone, start throwing!"
The salt bombs landed on the slimes, and the results were immediate. The blobs shrieked in that ear-piercing tone again, their bodies convulsing as the salt hit their gelatinous forms. One by one, they started to implode, collapsing in on themselves. The satisfying sight of the slimes shrivelling and dying energised the team. Finally, they had a weapon that could make a difference. The dying slimes tried to wiggle away, exuding mucus to try to clean their skin. They didn’t make it far.
Like snails shrivelling, the hordes of slimes were taken faster than a French restaurant at lunch time.
The Portal Crushers had finally killed the blobs and lay there exhausted. Atlas would have been more worried if he didn’t know they had sixty more men at the entrance.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
The Portal Crushers were covered in thick, sticky residue from the slimes. They looked like the unfortunate recipients of an alien bukkake party. The slime and goo had seeped into every crevice. Isabella spat out remnants of the salted slime, surprised that it tasted similar to sauerkraut.
‘This would taste good on top of a hotdog,‘ she thought. The amusing idea of a menu of salted slime paired with fried chicken, pierogies, or used in a salad flashed through her mind. She couldn’t wait to get home and explore this idea more.
Atlas asked, "Barbara, how did you know the salt was going to affect the slimes that way?"
Barbara wiped some sweat from her brow and smiled, "Well, I’ve spent a considerable amount of time studying the various life forms in this place, and I have learned that sometimes the most elementary substances can be incredibly effective. Salt, for instance, is something many gelatinous organisms cannot tolerate. I recalled a lesson from medical school on osmosis, where applying salt to a vegetable, like cabbage, draws out the water, weakening the cellular structure. Given that slimes are composed primarily of water, I hypothesised that salt might disrupt their integrity in a similar fashion."
Atlas nodded, clearly impressed.
Barbara continued, "Admittedly, it was something of a calculated risk. I couldnt be entirely certain that the salt would work to this degree, but the theory was sound. These creatures are essentially walking blobs of water and mucus, so I anticipated that osmosis would interfere with their ability to maintain cohesion. Thankfully, I was correct."
"Guess you were," Atlas grinned, glancing at the shrivelled remains of the slimes. "Osmosis for the win, huh?"
"Indeed," Barbara said with a small chuckle. "It was a matter of applying basic biological principles and adapting them to the battlefield. I never expected that my knowledge of basic wound treatment would come in handy for something like this, but it appears every lesson has its place."
"It’s like how putting salt on a wound hurts like hell, right?" Isabella asked.
"I’ve done that," Titus chimed in. "Mama said a little salt and water was good for my cut when I busted up my knee after a biking accident. Mama said I might not be the smartest, but I was the strongest because I didn’t cry too much."
The tired Portal Crushers cheered when the next group of twenty entered, bringing much-needed medics who treated the acid burns with a combination of PolyBiotic and an aloe vera gel made by the Coven Clique. No salt was used.
‘‘PolyBiotic (3 coins):‘‘ Got burns? Use our patented mana-infused antibiotics. Warning: do not use if pregnant.
The mana coins scattered on the floor were picked up, and the slime bodies were moved into heaps for the porters.
Atlas said, "Let's link up with this dungeon and get ourselves home."
The Portal Crushers cheered, eager to pick up their loot and escape the long, taxing battle against the dungeon slimes.
"I can't believe you had to fight a King Pod slime AFTER it merged with all those slimes before," Isabella said, shaking her head as she continued picking up mana coins from the floor.
"That's why, when Clark and I fought them before, they decimated our group of a thousand with close to a 60% attrition rate," Atlas replied.
Wilfredo grinned and said, "Jefe, have I ever said thank you for being a time traveler?"
Atlas chuckled, "No, and I'm glad I am one too."
***
The journey back to Fort Bone was long but familiar. The air was thick with dust as the Portal Crushers marched in formation, the porters trailing behind with the loot and equipment piled high on their makeshift sleds. The heat of the wasteland sun beat down on them, but they were used to it by now, the harsh environment just another challenge to conquer.
Atlas walked at the front, his twin swords sheathed but always within easy reach. He kept his eyes scanning the horizon, ever watchful for threats. His thoughts drifted to the two members they’d lost in the dungeon, a weight that sat heavily on his shoulders despite the victory. ‘It never gets easier,‘ he thought, but he kept his face hard, showing no sign of the inner turmoil.
Behind him, Isabella and Wang Bo walked together. Isabella had wiped most of the slime from her armor but still muttered about how it was going to take days to fully clean. Wang Bo, ever the joker, teased her about bottling the slime and selling it as a delicacy.
“Maybe we can start a new trend in the wasteland. Slime soup—exotic, nutritious, and slightly radioactive,” he said with a grin.
Isabella wrinkled her nose. “That might work, Eternal Emperor.”
Wang Bo laughed, “If I become a slime emperor, I’ll expect you to kneel.”
Isabella rolled her eyes but smiled, the banter helping to lift the mood after the loss of their comrades.
Stu, still hot-headed even after the battle, stomped forward, cursing at the heat. “Damn sun’s gonna cook us alive out here,” he muttered. “I swear, if we get jumped by raiders, I’m smashing skulls.”
Hank walked beside him, always the calm voice. “Keep your cool, pardner. We’ll be back at Fort Bone soon enough.”
“Yeah, well, soon ain’t soon enough,” Stu grumbled, though he fell in line.