The sword was heavier than Kael expected, its blade dulled from use, the hilt wrapped in leather worn smooth by the grip of its former owner. Beside it, the crossbow and a few bolts sat on the ground, its string frayed, the wood scratched and splintered. Kael held the sword aloft, its edge catching the faint glow of his crystal orb. He turned to Skrindle, his exasperation plain.
“Why can’t I turn these into gold?” Kael asked, his tone heavy with frustration. “A sword and a crossbow—surely they’re worth something.”
Skrindle hovered nearby, his tiny wings fluttering lazily. “Together, they’re barely worth a copper,” the imp replied, his voice dripping with amusement. “This is junk, Master. Rusted iron and splintered wood. If you want real gold, you’ll need better loot.”
Kael sighed, lowering the sword. The weight of his failures seemed to press on him more heavily than the steel in his hand. He set the weapon aside, glancing toward his shelter. At least there, he could see progress.
The crude structure he had built in his first days had transformed into something sturdier. The roof, now layered with packed dirt, kept the rain out far better than before, and the moss that had begun to grow there served as an unexpected boon. His slimes, particularly Jello, devoured it eagerly, their gelatinous forms pulsing with energy as they fed.
Jello sat nearby, a quiet sentinel in the clearing. The slime had grown noticeably larger, now twice the size it had been when Kael first summoned it. Its green surface shimmered faintly in the dim light of the square, a testament to its steady growth. Kael found himself watching it with a mix of pride and concern.
“Jello’s tougher now,” Skrindle said, noting Kael’s gaze. “It can take more damage, too. Your little blob’s come a long way.”
Kael’s lips twitched in the faintest of smiles, though the imp’s next words wiped it away.
“But,” Skrindle continued, “it’s reached its peak for this level. Jello’s still just a level one slime. If you want it to get stronger, it’ll need more kills.”
Kael frowned, turning the orb over in his hands. The thought of sending Jello into another fight filled him with unease. The slime had become more than a mere tool—its silent loyalty, its resilience, felt strangely personal. But Skrindle’s words lingered: more kills.
“How many kills does it need?” Kael asked, though his voice was resigned.
Skrindle shrugged. “Depends. Each level gets harder. Jello’s not going anywhere without some serious effort on your part.”
His eyes lingered on Jello, watching as the slime absorbed a fresh patch of moss. It quivered contentedly, its surface rippling like water in a pond. Skrindle’s words about Jello’s limits lingered in his mind. He hadn’t summoned any new creatures since Jello. His orb, he noticed, had grown steadily brighter, its light almost dazzling now. Kael had kept this observation to himself, not wanting to draw Skrindle’s attention.
More mana means more power in reserve, Kael thought, a quiet suspicion taking root in his mind. He hadn’t spent his mana, and the orb seemed to reward him for it, the glow intensifying with each passing day. If that pattern held true, then patience might be its own kind of strategy.
Kael turned his gaze to the walls of the square, the faint blue glow casting long shadows across the ground. Days had passed without another intruder, and for the first time since his awakening, he found himself wondering why. The quiet should have been a blessing, yet it felt ominous.
“No one’s come,” Kael said softly, more to himself than to Skrindle. “Not since Ryan.”
Skrindle snorted, his wings buzzing faintly. “And you’re complaining? Consider it a gift. Adventurers are trouble—”
The imp’s words were cut off as the blue walls flickered, their steady hum disrupted by a sudden surge of energy. The glow shifted, the blue fading to an angry red that pulsed in time with the thrum of Kael’s crystal orb.
Kael’s breath caught, his claws tightening around the orb. “I spoke too soon.”
“Jinxed yourself, more like,” Skrindle muttered, his sharp grin returning.
Kael turned to the red walls, his heart pounding. The quiet was over.
******
The red walls hummed faintly, their glow casting an eerie light across the forested edges of the square. Kael stood in the shadow of his shelter, the crystal orb floating before him. Its surface shimmered with faint images, each one a reflection of his domain. He watched intently as the hunters stepped into his square, their movements cautious but laced with a swagger that spoke of confidence—or hubris.
There were four of them, all dressed in piecemeal leather armor that bore the scars of countless battles or hunts. Their weapons were crude but functional: spears tipped with jagged iron, bows strung with frayed sinew, and sickles dulled from use. They moved like predators, scanning the forest edge with sharp, calculating eyes, their steps deliberate but not silent.
Kael moved to the orb, brushing his fingers along its smooth surface. Within, the visions of the slimes he had stationed around the square began to stir, their gelatinous forms pulsing faintly in the underbrush.
“Positions,” Kael commanded softly, his voice carrying an edge of authority. “Like we practiced.”
In the orb, the slimes obeyed, their movements deliberate as they slid into place. Jello, the largest of them, quivered at the head of the pack, a silent signal to the others.
The hunters moved cautiously along the forest’s edge, their voices low but audible in the quiet. The leader, a bald man with a scar running across his cheek, held a spear loosely in one hand. His expression was one of confidence, his movements brisk and assured.
“Stone,” one of the others called to him, a wiry man armed with a bow. “Why are we even bothering with this square? Everyone knows introductory ones barely have anything worth taking.”
Stone smirked, his scar twisting with the motion. “Because,” he said, his voice gravelly, “a big party’s heading here tomorrow. Word is, they think there’s treasure hidden somewhere in this square. So we’re getting in early, taking what we can before they sweep the place clean.”
The hunters laughed, the sound harsh and grating. “Treasure, huh?” said another, a woman with a sickle slung over her shoulder. “Don’t mind if I do. After this, we’re feasting like kings.”
Kael’s jaw tightened as he listened, his claws curling into fists. These intruders spoke of his square as if it were nothing more than a chest to be plundered, its treasures theirs for the taking.
Stone gestured with his spear, urging the others forward. “Move fast. Sweep the area. We’ll be out before anyone knows we’re here.”
The group spread out, their steps deliberate but not cautious enough. They moved in formation, sweeping the underbrush with their weapons, oblivious to the silent observers lurking nearby.
And then, one of the slimes jumped.
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It burst from the shadows of a thick cluster of ferns, its green mass gleaming as it launched itself toward the nearest hunter. The man shouted in surprise, swinging his spear wildly. The slime twisted midair, avoiding the blow, and landed with a squelch a few paces away. It quivered for a moment, then turned and began to slide rapidly through the underbrush, away from the group.
“After it!” Stone barked, his voice sharp. “Don’t let it escape!”
The hunters hesitated only a moment before giving chase, their weapons ready as they moved into the dense forest. Kael watched it all unfold in the orb, his heart pounding as he sat in the shadow of his shelter.
Stone’s breath came in sharp, ragged bursts as he pushed himself through the dense underbrush, his spear at his side. Sweat beaded on his bald scalp, trailing down the scar on his cheek. Behind him, the forest closed in like a living thing, branches clawing at his leather armor, roots threatening to trip his weary steps. To his left and right, his companions ran with equal urgency, their own weapons clutched tightly.
“Where’s the damn thing going?” one of them snarled, his voice cracking with frustration.
Stone didn’t answer. His focus was on the slime, the green blob darting through the trees ahead like a specter. It moved fast, faster than any other slime they had seen.
Behind them, the fourth hunter—the archer—paused, raising his bow. His calloused fingers drew the string taut, the arrowhead gleaming as he took aim. The sound of his breath, steady and measured, was the only noise that broke the forest’s tension.
But before the arrow could fly, a shadow shifted behind him. A glistening green mass surged silently from the foliage, enveloping him in a wet, suffocating embrace. The archer let out a strangled cry, his bow falling uselessly to the ground as Jello consumed him.
In the shelter, Kael watched it all unfold in the orb, his claws resting lightly on its surface. Skrindle hovered beside him, his wings fluttering in excitement.
“Well done, Master,” Skrindle said with a grin. “That’s one down.”
Kael didn’t reply. His focus was on the hunters, now three in number, their pace faltering as exhaustion crept into their limbs. The slimes, darting through the trees like phantoms, had not been in a chase, but a relay. A fresh slime replacing a tired slime. A coordinated effort to keep the hunters running, to sap their strength one step at a time.
“Damn thing,” Stone growled, his voice thick with frustration. “It’s like it knows we’re tiring.”
The hunters beside him exchanged wary glances but said nothing, their focus on keeping pace. The chase was no longer a hunt—it was a game, and the forest itself seemed to conspire against them.
Finally, Stone raised a hand, signaling the others to stop. He leaned heavily on his knees, his sickle dangling uselessly at his side. “Enough,” he barked, his voice raw. “We’re wasting energy.”
He glanced back, his brow furrowing as he counted heads. “Where’s Darrin?”
The hunters turned, their eyes scanning the path behind them. The archer was gone, the forest silent save for the rustle of leaves in the faint breeze. Stone straightened, his grip tightening on the spear.
“Form a circle,” he ordered. “Backs together. Now.”
The hunters obeyed, their weapons raised as they moved into position. Their eyes darted nervously between the trees, every shadow a potential threat.
Kael, watching from his orb, smiled faintly. He reached out, his mind brushing against Jello’s consciousness. The connection was strange, almost instinctual, but it worked. He issued the command with a single thought.
Now.
From the treetops, Jello descended like a specter, its massive form shimmering in the filtered light. The hunters looked up too late. With a wet slap, the slime landed in the center of the circle, the body of the archer still half-submerged within it. The hunters staggered back, their faces twisted in shock and horror.
“What the hell is that?” one of them shouted, his spear trembling in his hands.
Stone didn’t answer, his eyes locked on the grotesque sight before him. The archer’s lifeless face stared back, frozen in a mask of terror, his body caught within the quivering mass of green.
Before the hunters could recover, the rest of the slimes emerged from the shadows, surrounding them in a silent, glistening tide. The green creatures pulsed with a faint glow, their gelatinous forms shifting as they closed in.
The woman with the sickle lunged first, her blade narrowly slicing through one of the smaller slimes. Another slime surged forward, wrapping around her legs and pulling her to the ground. She screamed, swinging wildly, but the green tide overwhelmed her.
The second hunter swung his sword wildly, his movements growing more frantic as the slimes overwhelmed him. The creatures were relentless, swarming over his arms and chest, smothering his cries.
Stone stood alone now, his spear raised, his face a mask of fury and fear. “Come on, then!” he bellowed. “You won’t take me!”
But the slimes didn’t move. They circled him, their movements deliberate, waiting.
Kael’s voice echoed in their minds, calm and commanding. “Keep him alive.”
Jello surged forward, its massive form glistening with an unsettling light. Stone thrusted his spear, the iron tip slicing deep into the slime’s surface, but it did nothing to slow the creature. The weapon stuck fast, trapped within Jello’s gelatinous body.
Stone fell back, his legs tangling in the underbrush as the slimes closed in. He looked around, his eyes wide and desperate, but there was no escape. The forest seemed to close in around him, the red glow of the walls casting his failure.
Stone gasped, his breath ragged and shallow as Jello pressed down on his chest. The massive slime shimmered faintly in the dim light, its surface rippling with slow, deliberate movement. Stone’s leather armor creaked under the pressure, and his hands clawed at the ground, seeking some purchase, some escape, but there was none.
******
Kael leaned back in his shelter, his claws resting lightly on the orb. Skrindle chuckled darkly, his wings beating a slow rhythm. Jello had caught the leader of the hunters, Stone under its weight.
“A good time, Master?” The imp asked, his wings fluttering lazily.
Kael glanced at him, his expression unreadable. “For what?”
“For this,” Skrindle said, gesturing toward the orb. “Your little blob earned its stripes. Enough experience for an evolution. A fine moment, wouldn’t you say?”
Kael’s gaze shifted back to the orb. Jello pulsed faintly, its gelatinous mass quivering with latent energy. “Evolution,” Kael repeated, his voice soft. “What are the choices?”
“Two paths,” Skrindle explained, holding up a clawed finger for each. “Defender—Jello gets bigger, tougher, a wall of gooey fortitude. Or Acidic Slime—your blob starts secreting acid, a nasty surprise for anyone who gets too close.”
“Defender,” Kael said at last. “Make Jello my vanguard.”
The orb pulsed as Jello began to shift, its form expanding, growing denser. The green mass pressed harder against Stone, forcing a strangled gasp from the pinned hunter. In the shelter, Kael stood, stepping out into the square to witness the transformation with his own eyes.
Jello loomed before him now, a towering mass of green that glistened faintly in the square’s eerie light. Where once it had barely reached his knees, it now stood level with his hips, its surface thicker, more opaque. The sight filled Kael with an odd sense of pride, tempered by the grim reality of the scene.
“Jello,” Kael said softly, “give him a hug.”
The slime quivered in response, pressing Stone further into the ground but without crushing him. The hunter’s eyes darted wildly, his face pale as he struggled to breathe.
Kael stepped closer, his gaze cold as it settled on the man beneath his slime. “You said something about a party.”
Stone swallowed hard, his voice barely more than a croak. “I—I heard it in town. The schools… they’re sending their introductory-level students to raid this square. Thought we could get the loot first, before they came. I swear, I didn’t mean—”
“Which adventurers?” Kael interrupted, his tone cutting.
Stone’s head shook weakly. “I don’t know. The sword school, martial arts, magic… clerics. They send their recruits to clear squares like this one. Easy kills and treasure. Training ground for them.”
Kael’s jaw tightened, his claws flexing around the orb. “How soon?”
“I don’t know,” Stone stammered. “Soon, I think. Maybe days. Maybe less.”
Kael leaned closer, his eyes narrowing. “You’ve told me everything you know?”
“Yes,” Stone said quickly, desperation thick in his voice. “Everything. Please—just let me go. Or kill me. Please…” He trailed off, his eyes flicking fearfully to Jello.
Kael bent down, picking up the sickle where it had fallen. The blade was dull, its edge chipped from years of neglect, but it would serve its purpose well enough. He held it over Stone, the weapon catching the faint light as his expression hardened.
“You invaded my square,” Kael said, his voice calm but laced with steel. “You came for my gold, my creatures. You thought you could take what’s mine.”
Stone’s breath hitched, his body trembling beneath the weight of Jello. “Please,” he whispered.
Kael tilted his head, considering. “You said please,” he said, his voice almost thoughtful. “But I have a plan for you.”
******