A flaming spear was headed right for Alwin's head. No amount of sluggish hops or rolls could get him out of the way. There wasn't any mana left for him to do anything. Death was inevitable. This was it. End of the road. Nothing to do now, except stare death in the face. And boy, did Alwin stare hard. He focused every fiber of his being on watching the Spear of Burning Roots speed toward his adorable little self.

Another flaming projectile sailed through the air beside the spear. Weird. He didn't remember the man shouting out another skill. Must be one of those silent casts.

Then, it hit him. Alwin felt his body being compressed and hurled backward. Maybe it was the mana exhaustion, but Alwin didn't feel the pain of a literal flaming spear stabbing him and turning him into a doughnut. What he did feel was something weirder. Ten points of pressure dug into his body, all while moving backward. He recognized that feeling. It was the exact same sensation as being grabbed.

It was his Spirit Hands! The Mixed kind too. That's right! Alwin had never dismissed them after they had successfully got him out of the Five Elemental Barrier. Thankfully, they didn't succumb to the shockwave generated by his Yin-Yang Blasts earlier. They had grabbed him just before the spear carved into his body and cooked him alive. Flames jettisoned out of their wrists as they brought Alwin away from danger. He was safe—for now.

Even with a skill still up and running—flying in this case—there wasn't much he could do. There were only two options he could see. Either get carried around by his Mixed Spirit Hands dodging attacks for all eternity or hoped that the Mixed Spirit Hands knew how to box. So, his options were delay the inevitable or delay the inevitable but for a much shorter time.

A sudden drop in elevation kicked Alwin out of his contemplation of desperation. One of the Mixed Spirit Hands had let go, zooming ahead of him straight toward the edge of the classroom. What was it going to do? Punch a hole in the wall? Even with the added speed boost, he doubted that the hand had enough power to smash through a wall.

Maybe, the Mixed Spirit Hand had read his thoughts because as it approached the wall, it slowed down. It floated up and down, left and right, looking for something. But, what? The clicking of internal mechanisms and squeaking of hinges being pried open, sent a jolt of realization into Alwin's brain. The sparring room.

Alwin was brought into the white sparring room, the Mixed Spirit Hand shutting the door behind them. Maybe Alwin should rename them to Spirit Head because they definitely had brains. But, now Alwin was caught up to speed. He didn't need any more hand-holding, but a little spoon-feeding might help in the long run.

The free Mixed Spirit Hand flew to the corner of the room, grabbing a bottle of emergency Mana Pills from the drawer. It flew back, dumping a handful of those sweet succulent blue pills into Alwin's awaiting jaw.

He could feel it. He could feel the mana in his Core being replenished. What was once a drought-stricken barren wasteland was now a vast ocean of mana. The darkness which invaded his vision receded. The sensation of the whole world revolving around him disappeared—of course, he was still the main character of his world. In record time, Alwin was back in tip-top fighting shape. It was perfect timing as well.

Kicking down the door, the man in red charged into the sparring room, ready to deliver the finishing blow to the monster that had eluded him. Behind him were his fellow cultivators, with weapons raised, determined to avenge their brother. They jostled and stumbled, attempting to push each other out of the way as they squeezed through the doorway—it was a bottleneck. Their eagerness would be their downfall, Alwin would make sure of that.

While a couple of simultaneous Yin-Yang Blasts would definitely finish the job, Alwin opted for a more personal touch. Remember the phrase, "Revenge is a dish best served cold"? Well, Alwin did, but immediately tossed it out the window. Revenge was best served hot.

A blinding light engulfed the room, causing the cultivators to shield their faces with their free hand. Even while blinded the red-robed man continued to charge forward, a grimace on his face as he drew closer to the source of that blinding light source. What was the cause? It was simple. Alwin the Yin-Yang Slime was no more, now there was only Alwin the Fire Soldier Ant.

As the light died down, the cultivators got a good look at their harbinger of doom, along with his trusty aides. It was only fitting that the six-legged Alwin would be assisted by six Spirit Hands. Not just any Spirit Hands. These were Spirit Hands Mixed together with Fire Blasts. Grabbing hold of each leg, flames erupted out from below them, lifting Alwin up into the air. Who needs wings to fly when you've got hands?

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Alwin rocketed forward at speeds no ant had ever attained. His flaming mandibles clicked with excitement, as he drew closer and closer to his prey. The red-robed man tried to block, raising his spear horizontally to stop the incoming threat, but he wasn't Alwin's target. Not yet, at least.

He swerved past the red-robed man, gunning for the three cultivators, still tangoing with the door. At the sight of Alwin heading their way, something within them changed. Their scuffle ended in an instant, allowing the white-robed cultivator entry into the sparring room. He gripped his sword with both hands, bringing it down to his side, before taking in a long deep breath.

It didn't take a genius to know that he was preparing for an attack. That's why Alwin would meet him head-on with his own. The flames adorning his mandibles roared to new heights, casting everything in the vicinity in a reddish-orange glow.

"Fire Bite!"

"Tree Splitting Iron Fang!"

Mandibles and fangs collided. Sparks surrounded the point of impact. Metal against chitin. Pressure built upon itself as the two forces ground against each other, neither budging. Then, with a loud crack, the stalemate was broken. Cracks radiated out from the center of the collision, spreading out until they engulfed everything. From there, it shattered to pieces.

The white-robed man collapsed to the ground, flaming mandibles piercing his body, setting his robes alight. With his attacker incapacitated, Alwin pulled out his mandibles from the dying cultivator, flinging his body aside.

The yellow-robed girl punched her hand into the ground, covering her fists with jagged stone. Meanwhile, the black-robed girl had an arrow nocked and ready to fire. But, the only thing being fired was them.

Spirit Bombs and Fire Blasts materialized out of his Core. What happens when you Mix them together? The result was a really big explosion! Five extremely volatile bombs detonated right in front of the two cultivators and more importantly right in front of Alwin.

The force of the explosion rocked the room, sending Alwin spiraling into the air, relatively unscathed. His Fire Soldier Ant form was resistant to fire-based attacks, but that didn't mean that a bomb literally blowing up in his face didn't hurt! The same couldn't be said about his Mixed Spirit Hands. They had sacrificed themselves for the greater good.

Smoke, flames, and dust clouded the area where the bombs went off. Alwin didn't need to see to know that those two cultivators had met their end. As he fell back down to the ground, he shifted his attention to the last remaining cultivator—the red-robed man.

Anger flooded through his veins, making him tremble with red rage. Flaming eyes full of murderous intent zeroed in on Alwin as the sole target. Raising his spear into the air, the man prepared to launch it at the object of his hatred. Alwin was prepared for anything that the man threw at him, in fact, he was so ready that he was now gunning for style points. As he descended toward the man, ready to bite him to shreds, Alwin began spinning like a drill.

Black, white, and yellow sparks of energy flew out of the smoke-laden doorway, coating the flaming red spear. An azure aura seeped out of the spear, enveloping it as well. With a throw fueled by vengeance and hatred, the man launched his spear, yelling out, "Five Element Converging Dragons!"

The spear left his hand, shooting toward Alwin at blazing fast speeds. Within the next moment, five dragons formed from the various elements took shape, merging together to form one giant dragon. A sea of colorful scales represented the five different elements—red, azure, white, yellow, and black.

Alwin was not prepared for that.

But, this was Alwin. Quick-thinking was his middle name. As the draconic spear drew nearer to impaling him, he put all his strength into spinning faster, becoming a drill made of flesh and chitin. It was now or never. Time to see whether his gambit paid off. Mere inches before impact, there was a flash of light. Alwin shrunk down, back to his humble Dark Slime form.

The little black blob—emphasis on little—dodged the dragon's strike. Its massive form whooshed past the much smaller Alwin. They spun past each other in perfect harmony—fire and slime, opposites in motion. The elemental dragon crashed into the ceiling, sending debris flying toward the ground. What was the point of spinning? It was for maximum style points! Do you know what else was heading for the ground? Alwin.

Another flash of light and Alwin was now back as a Yin-Yang Slime. Darkness rushed out of his Core coating his body. Multiple Spirit Blasts, Spirit Scatter Blasts, and Spirit Burst Blasts exited out of his Core as well. They were the vanguard. The ones leading the charge against gravity. They pelted the man in a rain of blasts, tearing apart his robes, and bruising the skin underneath. The final touch—a gravity-powered Dark Tackle.

Alwin crashed into the man's stomach, knocking more than the wind out of him. He knocked the life out of him. Alwin stood on top of the fallen cultivator's chest, staring directly into his defeated eyes. Dull eyes stared back at him as the flames of life were extinguished.

He had done it! Through some miracle, he had done it! In hindsight, these guys were pretty weak. Or maybe Alwin was just too strong. That second reason sounded far more likely. Regardless, he won! It wasn't even hard either. Forget the fact that he almost died. That was definitely, one hundred percent, without a doubt, on purpose. All according to plan.

Now to gloat about his victory to Milvus. And maybe get a janitor in here. This place was a mess!