Arabella took in a quick breath as the red particulates of mana wash over her brothers and herself. She felt the name that came to her a moment ago alongside the title of Captain, her mind expanding to everything that would be required of her to know. Striking ice blue eyes glow crimson for a moment as she understood what the dungeon had asked of them. She unsheathed her sword, the wooden toy coated in liquid metal from the Alchemical Oak. “Forward company!” The words escaped her lips and the understanding came after as her brothers scream in fury as they drew their swords and spears to fight the undead enemy.

Just moments ago Arabella was no one, her mind empty and existing amongst her brothers as the sole female of their platoon. Now she was the captain, gripping tight the sword that had changed her from a simple fairy into a warrior of the Red Dungeon. Despite having been made for this, and even changed by her overlord for the sake of this fight, she couldn’t help but feel fear. This was her first true combat, and the fact that authority was thrust upon her only deepened her anxiety. She was three days old, two of those days had been spent as a soldier. Her sword was an extension of that change, and that was why she considered it her best friend despite everything. It did not mean to change her, but she might never have gotten the dungeon’s attention without it.

She was at the front line now, her brothers all clashing against the tough hide of dragonborn zombies as they attempted to use the fury Red gifted them. She raised her sword and slashed at the dragonborn in front of her, finding that the aged scales still held some strength as the blade scraped across without resulting in any real damage. The horrid rotten thing lurched forward as the miasma of decay escaped its mouth. She heard the scream of a brother, glancing over to see claws dug into his shoulders and the zombie biting into his throat. She had to look away as the beast yanked back, pulling arteries and sinew away with her sibling’s cry dying with him.

Company Information

Soldier #6 has perished! Set to respawn in 1 hour(s)

The notification distracted her for just a moment, long enough for the zombie to push her to the ground and fall forward. She felt the congealed drool dripping onto her outfit, her pale freckled face scrunched in horror and disgust. Why had Red chosen her to be the leader of the platoon? Why couldn’t it have been one of her brothers? They were just as bad off as she was when it came to this fighting stuff. She never even wanted to be a soldier, she wanted to stay a fairy and cast spells. It wasn’t her fault that she had [Glass] as her affinity tag! She was about to be killed and it was all so unfair.

The undead copper dragonborn leaned forward, about to make her experience the pain of her sibling, before a squishy purple fist slammed it back. A disquieting chill filled Arabella’s being as she experienced the effects of someone else’s leadership ability. She looked back, eyes going wide at the vaguely man shaped demonic slime that had come to her rescue. The slime had two pseudopods in the shape of arms, that connected to a barrel torso and a formless sphere of a head topped with two gel horns. It pushed the zombie off of her, making the undead stumble back into the front line with its necrotic kin.

Arabella felt her heart pounding in her chest, blood rushing through her pointed ears as she scrambled to get back onto her feet. She had never seen the slime man before, but she could only assume that he was like her. He was given power to lead without knowing what that meant, and they both were just trying to do their best. She clenched her fist around her sword, the hilt making her hand ache from the pressure she exerted on it. Whoever that slime was, he accepted the role given and did not cower away from it. Her eyes flashed red again as her rage built within, anger at the enemy, but more at herself. She needed to be there for her brothers; because the world may be unfair, but she did not have to enjoy it.

“You lot of half brain dead ninnies! Stop going one on one with the zombies! Pair up! Every red to a blue! Do it now or your ass is exploring new crevices in the Oak!” She roared as she felt the power within her to lead, as if Red himself was urging her on to complete a given task. The might of his rally filling her, guiding her hand as the confidence overtook her. She raised her sword and pointed at the face of the copper dragonborn beyond the slime, her eyes filling with a silvery white magic as she prepared an attack. “Slime man! Duck!” She ordered before the metal cracked off of her sword. The flakes and chunks of refined alchemical iron falling away as the sword was used as a wand. A torrent of glass shards spraying forth, shredding the zombie that had almost done her in. Once again, her best friend gave her an opportunity that she did not expect.

New Skill! Glass Storm

Get inside, it's raining knives!

Create glass from ambient mana and deal large amounts of damage to unarmored foes.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Title Evolution:

Arabella has met the requirements to upgrade her title through will of the soul!

New Title:

Mage Captain

Some of her brothers paused in shock at the hole-ridden corpse, but a quick glare from the now Mage Captain Arabella focused them back towards their opponents. A cape sprung from the back of her uniform as the star symbols on her shoulders now glittered a blue light. She could feel the title empowering her magic beyond its previous means, no longer needing massive amounts of mana in order to cause mayhem. She was the damn captain, and there would be no question as to who would win this fight!

=====

“Really? The first person I use my new ability on just so happens to be the only spellcaster in the line? What rotten luck.” Glut thought to himself after reforming, having liquified so that the shards of glass didn’t pierce his now thicker membrane. He had seen the leader of the soldiers in trouble, and hoped that he could activate Bulwark of the Damned on her. Now he had to keep eating hits for the rest of them instead. It was all such a bother that the Molder had decided to bring him into the battle, and even more so now that he was given the gift of thought.

Before the invasion of the zombies, he had been living the peaceful mindless existence of a slime. Sure he was a demonic slime, where the occasional devilish inspiration might appear. That didn’t mean he wanted to be thinking all the time like this, he was feeling more exhausted from that than the actual battle. He remembered that he was fighting, turning his eyeless focus back to the zombies that were slamming against his form. Only their claws and bites managed to hurt him, but the demonic energy they received in kind was more than worth it. The sizzling of their rotten meat as his damaging insides melted their extremities was delightful. It was even more fun when the acidic goo ripped opened holes to the flesh and caused little spurts of blood to spray out.

Glut extended an arm out to his right, far beyond the limits of what an actual humanoid body would be capable of. A dragonborn zombie bit the arm, sending a shockwave of pain through him before it was forced to pull its now steaming mouth from the dangerous fluid spilling forth. He was glad to know that despite both being evil, necrotic energies did not negate the damage that was caused from being exposed to demonic energies. Finally, with that bite his skill was activated, and he watched the sword of a soldier fae glow with dark energy. He observed as the soldier managed to cleave into the zombie’s skull, a wet crunch signifying the creatures end.

He watched the zombie collapse to the ground and couldn’t help but wonder if Molder Red would allow him to eat the corpses afterwards. He was getting tired of trying to digest crawdads and lobsters, their shells were all too tough. Some of these monsters had meat still inside them, and those full of mold were even more delicious smelling to the slime’s senses. He hoped that if he did good in the fight, that he would get rewarded with so much delicious rotten meat.

A deafening roar came from the back line of the zombies, enough so that it broke Glut from the stupor of his own thoughts and demented hunger. The dwarven zombie, one of the last ones to arrive, had suddenly changed from the small gaunt figure into a rotting musclebound freak of nature. Holes in the chest where maggots squirmed away from the expanding muscle, biceps flexing from movement alone, even a more piercing stare as it looked at Glut. Glut had no eyes, but he was confident that if he did, the dwarf would be looking right into them.

The zombies around Glut parted, focusing on the soldier fae instead of attacking his limbs anymore. He noted the fact that the human zombie that entered with the now berserking dwarf had a robe on suddenly, and was whispering things in the general direction of the dragonborn zombies. That was most likely the leader, and the one that would be the biggest target for the rest of the fight. Glut would go after him next, but then again that muscle zombie looked like he could snap the soldiers in half.

Glut surged forward, his snail-like foot propelling him to meet the fists of the zombie berserker. A sudden flurry of blows slammed into Glut’s sternum, making his entire form wobble and shake like a gelatin. He was thankful that not only did Red’s Rally decrease the damage, but even added onto his own bludgeoning resistance. The berserking dwarf was putting all it could into the punches Glut was suffering. As much as Glut wished this damage was going to the soldiers, the dwarf was very clearly focusing on him to try and reduce their bulwark to a puddle.

“Activate skill. Flesh Weapon.” His warbling voice grunted as the onslaught continued, slowly ticking down his health like a river would do a mountain.

Flesh Weapon

The only true weapon any fighter needs is his fists.

A user with the [Amorphous] tag is able to reshape a limb into a slashing or bludgeoning weapon.

One of his arm-like pseudopods raised into the air, the end shaping and contouring until it was a sharp axe. He swung down with all of his force, cleaving into the berserker without hesitation. The lack of a face did not hide his surprise as the blade only cut an inch into the rotten muscle. He attempted another attack, then continued as he began to get frustrated with this foe.

All the times that he had eaten other creatures of the dungeon, they would yield to his demonic might within seconds. The idea that someone had the gall to resist him, it was infuriating! He felt his membrane harden as determination ripped apart slothful nature. Multiple pseudopods raised from his jiggling flesh, turning into clubs, swords, daggers, and anything else that the slime could think of. His entire purple form pulsed crimson, rage filling him as he realized why Red was so insistent on this battle. How dare anyone think that Glut the Bulwark was anything but an unstoppable force of demonic nature!