Blinking the previous notification away, Franklin finds that it is now replaced with an info readout of sorts, indicating:

Type

Slime

Subtype

Swamp

Description

Swamp Slimes are amorphous creatures which tend to live in humid environments. They react to heat and movement. They travel using pseudopods, leaving a trail of wet ooze behind.

Owner

Wild

Level

1

Stats

Use Identify for details

“[Identify]”

Error 119. Please try again.

“Error 119. ‘You do not know this spell yet.’”

A deadpan expression crosses Franklin’s face. “Go figure,” he shrugs. Then he turns his attention back to the slime. He notes that the creature has two googly eyes, like a planarian, which float around cartoonishly in its body as it slowly crawls over. “So, this is a ‘monster’, huh? It’s kind of… silly?” Franklin reaches out an arm, as one might towards a puppy to indicate lack of threat and a desire to play. The slime, whether understanding or not, latches on, its pseudopods dangling off the side of his arm, jiggling up and down as it moves. In its wake, it leaves a thin coat of moist ooze, reminiscent of a slug.

“Haha, that tickles,” Franklin lets out, curiosity combined with the slime’s inane demeanor replacing his caution. He raises a finger, poking the creature, and he finds that it really is like animated Jell-O. Animated Jell-O worth potential EXP… Hm, I wonder... As an idea occurs to him, he places a palm on the creature’s top, before commanding, “[Transmute]. [Decompose].”

An instant later, a message appears, saying,

Error 124. Please try again.

“Error 124,” Franklin recalls, “Target cannot be living.” He raises an eyebrow at the slime, pondering the ambiguity of the limitation, because in truth, what constitutes “living”? But then he shrugs, setting the matter aside. After all, it makes sense to him in principle why the system is limited as such. Allowing the decomposition of “living” creatures would probably be pretty broken, in terms of functional balance. Imagine a fight that he can simply end by “decomposing” the opponent… Well, I guess I’ll just have to defeat it the old fashion way...wait, how “do” you defeat a slime, exactly?

A sudden pungent smell permeating his nose draws Franklin out of his thoughts. His gaze returns to the slime, still wobbling away on his arm, and he finds that a trail of yellow liquid has been emitted from the slime’s body.

Did it...did it just pee on me?!

About to shake the creature off but before he can however, Franklin notices something again causing the water to ripple. As before, a slime emerges from the pond. Unlike before, however, it is then subsequently followed by another and another and another, with speeds significantly greater than the first. Before he can properly react, the slimes have converged on his location, encapsulating his legs, rooting him to the ground, and crawling up his stomach and torso.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Uh, okay then, this is a thing apparently,” Franklin manages before the collective weight of the creatures causes him to collapse to the ground, and it is not long after that he is completely encased in ooze, face and all.

Well... this is quite the predicament, he thinks, no longer even able to twitch a finger, the viscous stickiness of the slimes pinning him to the dirt like wet cement, and the phrase, “Kill or be killed” abruptly comes to mind. In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have let my guard down just because it was stupid looking… Well, if I am “killed” here, I still “should” be fine… after all, this is just an avatar…as long as my dungeon core remains intact...dying “shouldn’t” be permanent… according to the manual anyways….

Curses, if only Transmute worked…, he thinks, suddenly taking back everything he has previously said about how broken the ability would be. But the reality is, Transmute doesn’t work on the slimes, and he still can’t budge. Left with no other options, he resigns himself to his fate. Well, no use crying over spilled milk. Might as well observe what happens, I guess… And literally as the thought passes through his head, a muted burning sensation starts to emanate from his skin. Oh, fascinating. They’re using alkaline solutions to corrode and digest me. Kind of like an inverse stomach. Curious. I’ve never been digested before. Well, since I’ve nothing better to do at the moment, might as well collect some data and time how long it’ll take to…

You have taken 1 suffocation damage. You have taken 1 corrosion damage.

You have taken 1 suffocation damage. You have taken 1 corrosion damage.

You have taken 1 suffocation damage. You have taken 1 corrosion damage.

...

He blacks out.

****

Upon awakening, Franklin finds that he is back in his dungeon cavern. Floating in the air is a message that reads,

Avatar destroyed. Reinitializing. -50% EXP penalty. -75% AP penalty.

Franklin sits up, scratching his head. He finds that his avatar, his bodily manifestation of his dungeon core, is back to normal, the ooze cleared from his skin and clothes. Well, it’s nice to get confirmation that the manual is accurate on this point, at least. Avatar “deaths” are not permanent. Now, about these penalties, let’s see... He pulls up his system, then navigates to Stats, eyes training to three lines in particular,

Level

1

Current Exp

0 / 100

AP

2 / 1000

He keys in on the fact that his level is still one, his experience still zero. Fortunately, it seems, the experience penalty from dying has not affected him much, for it appears that the values cannot go negative. He makes a mental note of this point, already thinking up ways to exploit it, before then glancing down at the AP value. Unlike the experience penalty, the AP penalty really stings hard. Between the transmutations he has performed earlier and the penalty from “dying”, he is basically out of AP for the day. This, to him, is the biggest incentive to try and keep his avatar alive, if nothing else than for the inefficiency “dying” causes.

“Well,” he mumbles to himself, “That was rather embarrassing.”

Of all the ways he thought he might suffer his first defeat, he had assumed the most likely to be at the hands of adventurers. After all, that’s how these things usually go, right? To be defeated by what is effectively animated Jell-O…

“This matter simply cannot stand,” he declares aloud.

Literally, slimes don’t have backbones. They actually cannot stand…

Franklin folds his arms across his chest, nodding to himself, a pleased expression across his face. He smiles, for in his mind, a plan is beginning to take shape, a potential strategy with which to conquer the treacherous slimes that have handed him his first defeat.

Of course, he is going to conquer them with none other than Science, with a capital S. And he is determined not to stumble into the old adage of one step forward, two steps back. Progress he will make, taking two steps forward instead.

To emphasize the point, Franklin takes two steps forward, a finger gesturing ahead in the air, a determined expression across his face. “Just you wait, my nemeses, I’ll definitely-”

A message appearing in the air interrupts his monologue, saying,

AP depleted. System now entering hibernation mode.

And just like that, a sudden wave of fatigue crashes into him, knocking him off his feet, and as Franklin falls backwards, finger still outstretched, the following words escape his mouth, barely as a whisper, “... tomorrow then, for sure...”