I can't tell whose scream that is. Is it the sounds of my terror upon being absolutely yeet from supportive comfort directly into sub-sonic flight, or Big's squeal of excitement at what must be a pretty good shot?

SPLAP-LAP-LAP-PLAT!

Impacting the hard stone floor at an angle, I fear my membrane will split from the force, but Bigs' shot was on the money. Instead of being mushed to an inglorious end, I'm sent skipping off the floor like I really am just a pebble on a lake, my momentum carrying me forward another three skips before leaving me plastered on the wall like silly putty. "Who-whoa!"

That was unexpected. Slowly pulling myself back into a more cohesive shape while I take the time to reorient myself, I discover that, apparently, I'm immune to motion sickness. Must have something to do with not having inner ears. Even then, my vision wasn't thrown around by my sudden flight, since it isn't reliant on any particular part of my body, so I guess getting dizzy is off the cards for me. I'll take it!

"Eeeeeee! That was AWESOME!" Flashing brightly from their position in the centre of the space, Big hops from side to side in excitement. "You won!"

"I did? I- I mean, I did! Go me!" Crawling back to the centre, I get about halfway before I twig onto the details of the situation. "Oi, hold on! What kind of game was that?! I could have died!" Big doesn't seem like the cruel type, but their attitude is very much at odds with their physical presence, so maybe they weren't considering my comparative fragility.

"That was Slime Shot... but... why are you upset?" Exhibiting a smattering of small, glowing lights, they suddenly look downright tiny for someone so big. "The other Baby Slimes and I play it all the time... they love it... do you not like it?"

Ah bugger, now I feel bad. A little shiver runs across my membrane like a wince, but I wait to speak until I've gotten closer. Crawling up alongside them, they don't have the same sulky vibe as when Guard said they couldn't play. Instead, their disappointment looks... deeper, intertwined with hurt confusion. "I'm sorry I snapped at you," I apologise, feeling like I just kicked a puppy. "I was surprised is all, I could have been hurt."

"Oh." Big fidgets, the diffuse glow of her mumbled words stabbing me in my slimy little heart. "Even the newborns haven't gotten hurt before, I thought you'd be a little stronger than them. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed..."

Now, hold on just a second there. I'm a lot tougher than a newborn, I have a +2 Membrane! "Are you saying even brand new Baby Slimes, without any mutations or anything, aren't hurt by that game?" Please, oh please tell me I wasn't overreacting-

"That's right," they reply, their glow still diffuse. "If one of them hit a wall right away they would probably get hurt, but we make sure slimes who can't aim don't get to be the shot-taker. Even when that has happened, the bubble protected {Save Me} from getting too hurt. They were the one that invented Slime Shot in the first place!" As Big talks they get some of their pep back, at least until they finish speaking, wavering on the border between excitement and disappointment.

"O-oh? The bubble? What's that?" Stupid, stupid Luke! You upset Big for no reason, shame on you, shame!

"It's how I got you going so fast... y-you're not upset?"

Bloody hell, how does a creature with no facial features manage to give puppy dog eyes?! "No, I'm not upset, Big. I didn't understand, I'm sorry for overreacting." I'm honestly surprised slimes play games like this with their newborn children, but they know more about being a slime than I do, so I should trust their judgement.

They're silent for a moment, maybe assessing whether I'm telling the truth or not, but they brighten back up a moment later, their infectious energy resurging with a vengeance. "Great! Do you wanna go again?" Expectantly awaiting my response, they practically vibrate with excitement.

I raise a pair of nubbins in a 'woah there' gesture, caught a little off guard by the rapid vibe switch. "Just a moment, weren't you telling me about these bubbles?"

"Oh yeah! It's hard to keep a hold of stuff that isn't part of you when it's inside your body, so when {Save Me} wanted me to throw them really far instead of just bouncing them around, we figured out that making a membrane around stuff makes it easier to move! Neat, huh? It's only thin, so it breaks on the first bounce, but since it means the newborns can play too, the game really took off!"

"Wow, that's pretty cool! Is 'Slime Shot' some kind of Skill?" If it is, maybe it'll be on my list of available Skills now that I've played it!

I watch while Big ruminates, the unyielding force of their currents at odds with their rather flighty personality. "Skill...? Oh, you mean the things the voice teaches us how to do? Yeah, I remember the voice talking about 'slime shot' and teaching me how to do it, but most of us never bothered to spend those Skill Point things, at least from what I've been told."

"Huh? That doesn't... But I thought you said it was a really popular game? How does everyone play if they don't have the Skill? Are there just a couple shot-takers, and everyone else is the payload?" That seems kinda boring, like always being the one to push the swing, but never riding it.

Big is silent for a moment... then starts rolling across the floor wildly, laughing themselves silly. "Heeheeheehee! Of course not silly, almost no-one else has the Skill except for me, the hunters, and {Save Me}, and the hunters only wanted to see if it could help them fight off Predators! We just taught everyone else how to do it, they picked it up eventually."

I rock backwards, the implications of Big's casual response slamming into me like a five ton truck. "You can learn Skills without spending Skill Points!?" If I'd known that, I wouldn't have wasted one on buying Engulf! I might not even need to spend anything to learn how to swim! "That's amazing!"

Bobbing from side to side, they flash me a quizzical look. "Really? It seems pretty straightforward. If the voice teaches us how to do something, what's stopping us from teaching other slimes how to do it as well, now that we know how?"

"...When you put it like that, I sound dumb for not figuring this out before," I mutter, mind racing. "I guess... I don't remember feeling anything change especially whenever I gained or advanced a new Skill, it was always just learning new information or receiving new instincts." I'd already figured out that the System here seems to reward inventiveness and figuring things out for yourself, but I didn't expect anything quite so blatant as Skills being taught rather than bought. "There isn't anything risky about the slimes without the slime shot Skill being the shot-takers, is there? Like, it isn't more dangerous, or they can't do it sometimes?"

Before I even finish speaking I can see the answer is a no by the way the lights of Big's membrane shifts, but they wait for me to finish before giving their response nonetheless. "No, nothing like that. I remember watching a bunch of slimes get together and play down here a while ago, they didn't seem to be improving like {Save Me} and I, but one of them had figured out a way to shoot the newborns further, and when I tried it, the voice said I'd gotten better!"

Pushing my rather average brain to its limit, I try to figure out what might be going on here. "Maybe they don't actually have the Skill? They might just be doing what the Skill would normally teach them to do, but they don't get the benefits of levelling up or upgrades? But it sounds like one of them figured out a better way to do it anyway, so when they showed you how to do that, your Skill got boosted." Looking up at a lost Big while I rub my chinless membrane thoughtfully, I sigh, sending a single ripple of mass and light across my body in a ring. "Uh, don't mind me. I have a little experience with skills and XP from games I played back in my old life, but it's nothing quite like what's going on here, so I'm trying to figure things out as I go. Enough about this though, I've been thinking about Skills and survival and stuff ever since I was born!" Bumping up against them, I poke at Big with my little nubbin. "I need a break, so how about you tell me the rules and we play some more?"

Quivering with excitement, Big replies by way of sucking me up into their mass once more, rolling me around like a sportsman spinning a ball before the game winning play. "Okay!" They project a mound-like inverted nubbin on the inside of their membrane. "Rule one; shot-taker says how many bounces after calling 'SHOT!', minimum of two. The shot tries to stop before they bounce that many times. Rule two; shot-taker can't say less than three bounces unless the shot is an Adult Slime."

Inverting a third nubbin, they begin to swirl me around faster, the thin membrane they're forming around me easy to notice now that they've pointed it out. I don't remember them calling out a number when they launched me the first time, but to be fair, I was a little distracted by the unanticipated flight to be paying much attention to what was happening behind me.

"Rule three;" they continue. "If the voice speaks to either the shot-taker or the shot, the other slime automatically wins. If the voice speaks to both, it's a draw and you play again. That covers everything, except for rule zero, of course."

Pausing in the act of pulling my mass together, a building current tightening around me, I paint my confusion for the larger slime to see. "What's rule zero?"

Feeling a giggle fit mounting within Big once more, I focus my attention on their reply, trying to ignore the distracting quaver of their excitement. "It's the one, absolute rule in all games. In order to play, you need to follow this rule. But that should be fine, because it's just as much about being a slime as it is ensuring our games are always fun."

"That sounds important." I'm pretty well acquainted with rules, I had loads of them growing up and living in my apartment complex, but this doesn't sounds like one of those.

Holding me firmly within their mass, spinning the thin capsule of membrane that contains my tightly packed body, Big pulses brightly, their words ringing like a tenet, or a mantra.

"Rule zero; FIND THE FUN!

Annnndd... SHOT!"

Accelerating me from zero to really fucking fast in an instant, I keep my wits about me as I leave Big's membrane- which parts around me so smoothly I barely feel a lick of resistance -focusing both fore and aft to catch their callout and simultaneously attempt to make sense of the blurry ground ahead.

"Four!"

I cackle, chomping at the bit to go up against the strongest slime in the fort on day one. "You wish!"

----------------------------------------

[Pound has reached Level 5]

[Pound has achieved max level. Advance Skill to [Slam], spending 1 Skill Point?]

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Woohoo! "Dang it, got a notification, you win this round!" Shouting over at Big brightly from where I'm flattened across the cavern floor, I work on peeling myself free. It's been ages since my main attack Skill levelled up, that last idea I had to Pound into the ground like a big flat pancake to eat my momentum was inventive enough to nudge it over the line, but I'm surprised it happened despite not attacking anything as such. That's very good news. "I doubt I'll be able to power level like this," I mumble, reading my newly available advancement on my return to the centre of the Big Room. "The System rewards risk, so I doubt it'll have better results than using my Skills for real, but training could give me an edge if I've got a Skill I really wanna improve before a big fight."

[Slam: Greatly empowers durability and the force your body exerts when using it as a weapon.]

Oooo, I like that! Simple, broad, intuitive! Unfortunately, I can't get it right now, sitting as I am on one measly Skill Point and Impurity a piece, but this is at the top of the list once I acquire more than just emergency funds, for sure! Coming to a stop just in front of Big, I can see they're ready with their next question.

"You mentioned something called a 'wheel' earlier. What is it? Is it a toy? Can you eat it?" The massive slime wobbles from side to side, awaiting my response with quivering excitement.

We've been playing Slime Shot now for close to half an hour straight, and Big has been insatiable in their quest to learn things about my old world and my life there. I tried to suggest asking questions as a reward for winning, that way we could trade knowledge and I might get a bit of a breather, but I underestimated the depth of their commitment to what seems to be the quintessential slime pastime. Apparently, winning rewards or prizes isn't a practice among slimes. Big said there wouldn't be any point if they were playing for something other than fun or entertainment. In fact, they were downright confused when I suggested a reward, and asked why I would want to play for something when I could just ask for it instead.

"It's not really food or a toy, it's anything that takes a specific shape; a flat circle that can roll on the ground, like this," I explain, moulding myself into a loose replica of a tiny bike tyre. "Wheels can be made of pretty much anything, so long as they're that shape, so you can have wheels of food or wheels shaped toys, but they're not any one thing."

"Whooooa, so cool!" Sparkling with wonder, Big tries the shape out for themselves. They're considerably bigger, so they end up closer in size to a tractor tyre.

After arranging to swap questions between rounds, which Big happily agreed to, I've learned a bit more about the fort, and Big has been introduced to concepts from my world like clothes, money, the sky, and gender. Granted, Big thought most of them were silly and unnecessary once I explained what they were used for and how important they were for pretty much everything, and I must admit to agreeing with them. Gender especially confused the hell out of them, which isn't a surprise coming from a sexless, genderless species of creatures who, best as I can tell, don't reproduce outside of spawning from crystals. I was a little disappointed to find out there was no Mama Slime, but I'm not about to complain, seeing as we have our very own crystal here-

Gazes snapping up, Big and I fall silent, the pair of us staring at the currents of mana gathering in the crystal above us. Splitting off a glance at the nominal leader of the fort, I see them edging closer to the centre of the cavern. Sparkling, they beckon me along with them. "Come on, we have to go say hello!"

I eye the monumental energies being condensed within the mineral structure in fascination, bouncing after the excitable giant. "So we're going to meet a new slime?" One of my questions for Big during our game was why they allowed a crystal that could spawn monsters to occupy the heart of their secret fort. They explained that certain Dungeon Crystals only birth one species of monster, but that it's very hard to pick them out without observing them for long periods of time. The crystal here is one such specimen, spawning solely slimes the entire time the community has resided in the fort. Apparently, the Big Room- as Guard(?) called it -is something like a combination hatchery/meeting hall, where Baby Slimes are born and people come to talk to Big, who likes to wait for newborns to arrive.

"Yep! We haven't had a new slime in ages, and I want to be there for all the infants that are born, so I've been waiting down here for a while," they explain, circling the inverted spire and watching the mana that will soon create a new slime course through the air around it. "Once they're here, I'll introduce you both to the Baby Slimes that arrived just before you. Usually infants don't work or leave the fort, but you're free to do as you like, so long as it doesn't put anyone else or the community in danger."

I bob in understanding, noting that the droplet of mana pooling at the tip of the spire is almost ready to drop. "Thank you, Big. I'll probably say hi, check out the rest of the fort, then maybe take a nap." It's been a long day, I'm looking forward to relaxing a bit in one of the first truly safe places I've found, excepting my little hole in the wall up in the tunnels.

Chasing thoughts of a comfy little nook and some peace and quiet from my mind, I focus my attention on the miracle of dungeon birth taking place before me. Soaking into the stone of the cavern floor where it has fallen from the Dungeon Crystal, the intensely concentrated droplet of mana seeps to the surface like a spring puddle, which rapidly thickens and shifts, pulling itself together into something that resembles a dew drop adorning a leaf on a misty morning, though equal to me in size. Only... it looks like the pooling mana is separating?

Pulling away from each other, the roiling mana splits into three distinct shapes before turning its focus inward. Over the course of a handful of seconds the hesitant motions of the thickening mass coalesce into currents, painting the rapidly forming group of slimes the same rich blue hue as myself.

Wasting no time, Big crawls forward eagerly. I can tell they're excited by the muted lightshow going on beneath the surface of their membrane, but their approach is measured, likely well aware of the danger inherent in their impressive size. "Welcome to the fort, infants," they pulse gently, the small collection of newborns wobbling on the spot like particularly fragile popping pearls before the behemoth that is Big. What follows is less of a conversation and more Big giving the equivalent of a slideshow of basic concepts to reassure the newborn Baby Slimes that they're safe, cared for, to listen to the older slimes, and that they're going to be introduced to some friends they can play with. The little slimes- they may be my size, but they give far 'littler' vibes -respond haltingly, flashing single, simple lights that can barely be called replies, more expressions of broad emotions such as confusion, happiness or impatience.

While they would likely be perfectly identical to an outside observer, it's easy to distinguish between the three individuals by reading the path, swirl and shapes created by their currents, the inconsistencies in their membrane, and a plethora of other tiny details as easily as a human might read facial features or build.

Gesturing a short tendril in my direction, Big guides the group my way, getting my attention with a flash. "I'll be taking you all to the nursery to introduce you to the other Baby Slimes now. Feel free to talk with them, though they might not understand you very well. It will take some time for them to learn how to communicate, but the earlier they start, the better."

Flicking them a little salute, I puff myself up like a soldier on parade. "Slime, yes slime! You can count on me!" Pulsing their appreciation, they turn to the newborns and, in one fell swoop, scoop them all up into their mass, floating them about like leaves drifting lazily on the wind. From out here the little ones look like they're having a blast, and I can't blame them. It's a singularly comforting experience, being held within such an all encompassing protective embrace.

Big makes to scoop me up too but I shake my head/body from side to side, giving off a declining pulse. "Thanks, but I'm alright. I'll follow along, but I'll remember better where things are if I crawl my way around myself."

"Alright then," they shrug, making for the exit to the Big Room without a second thought.

Curious, I stare at what are essentially the newest members of our little community. "I didn't think there would be more than one. I've only seen a Dungeon Crystal in action once before, up in the tunnels, and it only birthed a single plant monster. I guess there's no reason to expect otherwise, but it just didn't occur to me."

"This is pretty rare, actually," Big glows, the soft warmth of their hue reminiscent of a contented parent supervising children playing in the yard. "Usually we get one, sometimes two. We've only had three newborns at the same time once before, and the most we've ever seen was five, but that was very early in the fort's days, soon after we arrived here."

"Huh, neat. How often does the crystal make a new slime?" I wonder if there's some kind of controlling factor that regulates how often spawns occur?

Passing through the maw-like archway back into the smaller cave layered with dirt, Big gestures me over, subsuming me with a tentacle briefly so they can deposit me on top of their body. "We don't know. Sometimes a couple are born close together, other times there are long gaps. I don't like when that happens, it's boring. Still, it's not really an issue, so long as slimes are still being born." Arriving beneath the spiralling, root-bound staircase that descends a few meters below the ceiling, Big gathers their mass together and leaps, performing a shockingly effortless standing jump for such a large creature.

"Woah!" I yelp, plastering myself flat like a splotch of paint in an effort to hold on. I needn't have worried however, Big must do this all the time because as they draw level with the lower roots, they expertly elongate their body into a thick, slug-like rope and drape themselves lengthways up the thick wooden structure, rolling to a smooth stop at the apex of their jump. "Damn, that was an impressive jump!"

Sparkling with mirth at my compliment, they crawl their way up the spiralling ascent to the upper levels of the fort. "What kind of slime would I be if I couldn't jump?"

"You know what, fair enough," I agree sagely. I consider slipping off of their bulk and making my own way up, but considering how much real estate they require to make the climb, it'll probably be easier to continue our conversation if I stay here, and I want to ask about something that's been a weight on my mind since discovering the number of slimes living here. "Big, you said there are around sixty or so slimes in the fort. How do you get the food to feed everyone?"

Big is silent for a short time, long enough that I begin to worry about their response. The disappointed glow of their answer sets my currents churning with anxiety. "Unfortunately, it's becoming... difficult. We are safe here, the only slimes to have died in recent memory have been scouts or hunters, and we get new members of the community from the Big Room, but few of us are capable of hunting. We are able to keep everyone fed, but we don't have enough food to increase the strength of the community as we are. If we grow too numerous, or lose any more of our hunters, we may be unable to provide even that."

As they explain the fort's situation, Big's carefree, childish attitude slowly recedes, replaced by one of focus, resolve and weighty responsibility. Submerged is the gentle giant, excited to play with newborns and sulking about their amount of play time. In their place is a leader, someone with the weight of many lives stacked atop their gelatinous frame, whose every waking moment is devoted to the wellbeing of the people depending on them.

"That... doesn't sound good," I offer lamely, unsure what else to say when confronted with the fact that the community around us is one or two bad days away from starvation. "Do you have a plan?"

Accompanying their flare of affirmation is a surge of strength beneath me as Big pushes themselves faster up the spiralling roots, hastening our ascent. "Our hunters will be going out in bigger groups. There are few places we can find food that aren't controlled by Predators, but we need more food if we want to strengthen the community, so we need to take the risk and begin hunting in some of those areas. It is dangerous, risking the majority of slimes we rely upon for food," they admit, concern washing across their surface like a sheet of light rain heralding a downpour, "but it is necessary."

I sit atop the slime quietly, digesting this information as we bypass tunnels I didn't notice on the express route down. Rather than curiosity at what might lay beyond these unexplored paths, my thoughts are consumed by Big's words, the resurgent evidence of our species' disadvantage when it comes to procuring food outside of scavenging a ballast weighing down my non-existent gut.

In saying that, I reason, I was able to overcome that disadvantage to some degree, with the help of a little strategy and some careful target-picking. I'm by no means a powerhouse, or even particularly strong, but I've held my own against monsters far bigger and of a higher level up till now as a mere Baby Slime. Seeing Big, it makes me wonder what I could be capable of once I've evolved...

... and what that might mean for the community if I can help us get the Impurities and experience we need to grow stronger.

I've never had anyone rely on me before, despite what Ms. Wilson insisted every time I agreed to water her plants when she left the complex to visit her daughter in Margaret River. I'm not reliable, I muck up all the time, I can barely remember to pay a bill to save my life, sometimes quite literally when rent day rolls around... but as I think about Big, about Guard(?) and Slime, about the many slimes in the fort I haven't met yet, I feel a stirring in my currents, the same writhing discomfort that led me to offer myself up in place of whichever poor bastard the neighbourhood thugs decided to jump. The same discomfort fighting to pop the latch on the lockbox where I stuffed all the emotions I couldn't do anything about when the owner of my complex threatened to kick out the single mother with three kids next door because she wouldn't steal drugs from the hospital for him.

The gnawing, acidic, insistent discomfort that says things don't need to be this way, that things shouldn't be this way, but that I can't do anything about it. That I don't have the means, that I can't help, that no matter how much I want to, I can't fix it.

Well. Here, right now? I'm a slime. I'm small, I'm weak, I shouldn't have the chops to stand up to the Predators that see us as hors d'oeuvres, but I can, and I have. I helped one slime stay alive already, and I'm close to evolving into something more than I am now.

Why stop at one slime when there's a whole community I could do the same for?