Walking as a bowl wasn't as graceful as he thought, and he didn't expect it to be. It does work though at transporting large volumes of shredded, bloody flesh... ugh. Blood. The things people have to do to survive. Though most of the blood already leaked from Sam's outburst, thankfully. The leather door curtain swerves open as he enters his lovely cave. Upon reaching the farthest section, he dumps everything.

He goes back to see a pile of meat, and Sam standing on the bones.

"Hey, Sam. After you're done with that, drag those bones inside," He points at the femurs.

"Ok," It was eating the remaining flesh on the skeleton. Wasting would be a sin. He continues hauling, and Sam, like how it looks at him now and then, watches in interest and admiration.

Samuel, that ingenious lot, was indeed an ingenious slime.

It saw other creatures haul food with their jaw from time to time, and having to observe them made Sam sad knowing it couldn't do the same thing. That's right, slimes don't have a jaw of teeth. And yet again, he showed otherwise that they don't need those. It just demonstrates how much he was great indeed. After all, bringing food into wherever you want has one big advantage. That is, eating it in a safe place.

Because of him, Sam gets to eat without having to worry about enemies!

Sam drags a thick bone across the ground, drawing a track of line. It does the same to the other. The mound of flesh shrinks in the amount as he awkwardly hauls, and faster when Sam joins the task.

In front of the entrance, Sam's mind blanks from past memories.

It recalls the times Sam runs place to place, running amok in hopes of permanent safety. It found something better instead. A deity.

"Well? You gonna go in or what?"

He was in line behind Sam, who waits in impatience.

"Sorry!" It enters in a rush, self-loathing from his displease. Dumping the food, he followed suit.

The next was quite...uneventful. It didn't take long to do most of everything. He was, of course, grateful that nothing was happening. He wasn't saying that his life itched that dangerous flare, where the scent of death would bring anyone into their best effort to climb the ladder of survival. It's simply boredom.

... What should he do in his new life then? He kicked the bucket at an early age. How could he grieve for his broken future, when he had none?

What is there to do in the age of automation exactly? What do you do when there's nothing that should be done? Other than having a childish curiosity over the wonders of mankind - the science, inventions, machines, everything man has brought into the world (or at least, in his home planet) - games are the sole reason for his motivation.

He mutters to himself, "Heh. What am I thinking? That's stupid."

"What'ya talking about?"

That's right. Why should he think about something pessimistic? It's too early to have an existential crisis. Besides, being a slime may not be too bad. He's even got a buddy he can survive with. Who knows what'll happen in the future? Maybe tomorrow, he's got a community he should be looking for. For now, rising Maslow's hierarchy of needs was one thing he should be concentrating on.

"Nothing. Let's just move on."

"Ok... then?"

There he goes again, being weird as much as being great he was. If only Sam's limited understanding wasn't as limited as its experience. Then again, in slime sense, it aged enough to manifest basic intellect that of a human child.

Sam and Samuel feel the ground.

Tremors... footsteps. Weak, but steadily growing. As semi-liquid organisms, they felt the shake to a precise degree, like how a glass of water would be noticed vibrating to the naked eye faster than a human can physically sense.

"Hide! Now!" He orders loudly out of panic

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"But the organs!" Sam replies. All the meat was hauled, but not some of the insides.

Liver, highly nutritious. Heart, pure protein. They couldn't just abandon those!

"You get the liver! I get the heart! "

"Understoo- what's a liver?!"

He rushes to the remains of the carcass as Sam followed. He catapults the soft, jiggly organ at Sam like basketball.

"Now go!"

Sam caught and runs towards the cave as he carries the heart. It was quite heavy. To tackle this issue, he ate parts of the heart to lessen the weight. Then he felt his entire being morphing, similar to a fat caterpillar entering metamorphosis. Just like in that process of change, his consciousness felt hazy.

The void pulls his soul into the void. He felt like a cargo ship too bulky to float, thus sinking into the deep abyss.

"Gotta hurry," Muttered Sam to itself again and again at a rushed pace. Crossing a short distance, Sam dumps the organ into the stockpile at the end of the cave.

Sam waits in silence and simply stare into the cave curtain, hoping this whole "camouflage" thing would keep out ignorant intruders. But what is it trying to say exactly? Is it implying that the master plan of the great and mighty Samuel would be fated to fail?

"What's Samuel taking so long?" Sam wonders about the delay. The liver he passed seemed bigger and heavier than this "heart", and yet Sam managed to haul it back even with a bit of effort. There shouldn't any reason why he would be slower.

Peeking, Sam panics after he seemed to be unmoving. Just the thought of his death made Sam worried to the core. "Samuel!" Sam shouts and hops to him, nudging him with care. It noticed the half-eaten heart sitting beside him. Then a certain memory was triggered from the past. Now that Sam noticed, this "heart" does seem familiar.

"... He ingested it."

...

Location: Unknown.

He woke up groggily with a dry mouth. His own two arms went for his face to rub away the sleepiness.

And it was effective. Not because of the friction, but because of the realization that he has hands, arms, and a face. He's got limbs natural to that of a human, not a slime. He was wearing simple white tees and fitting jeans, a simple yet comfy fashion. He stands,... and staggers. His arms flail for balance.

"Take it easy, young man."

There was a man wearing a white tuxedo, sitting so casually behind a mahogany wood desk in his armchair. He holds a leather clipboard with gold engravings. The walls and ceiling were plain white. No door. No windows. No light. Not even shadows no matter how hard you look.

The mysterious man snaps his fingers and a beanbag appeared out of thin air, along with a table served with snacks and a cup of hot cocoa. He slightly leaned back from surprise.

It may seem abnormal for a person like him to stay calm, at least to a manageable degree, but he was just tired of all the things that happened, and to the things that could, or would.

"You can sit if you like," The appearance the man portrays has an atmosphere that can calm the universe's tension. He cocked an eyebrow, "Samuel... and just Samuel."

After a few seconds of consideration, he walks up to the beanbag and sat. A sip of sweet cocoa was what he needs, and a mouthful of biscuits. 

"A somber story for a good soul like you. Orphaned, thrown into the cold streets of Los Angeles after birthed by a prostitute."

Samuel breathes, about to open his mouth to open the dam of questions. Until he was interrupted.

"Yes, I'm a god, though not the kind in your world. No, I don't have mind-reading abilities - I don't need it. I've heard that question many times, Samuel. Believe me. But you can, however, simply refer to me as... the Administrator." He put down the clipboard under the light of the lamp and cross his legs, hands obediently on his lap. He leans in slightly and emphasized his words clearly, "You're quite an anomaly, aren't you?" He sighed, "I couldn't fathom my colleagues' thinking upon dealing with you."

"Can you tell me what's going on?" Samuel bluntly said, keeping a concerned face. He can tell this Administrator guy had this straight-to-the-point attitude. Those are the type of people who are easy to please.

""What's going on"?"

He raised an eyebrow as he chuckles, "Well, for starters, you died ahead of your schedule, mainly because the Afterlife Department and Reincarnation & Transmigration Agency had technical faults at the same time. In fact, you weren't supposed to be a- " He glimpses on the clipboard. "- A slime, much less keep your memory intact. And don't get me started why they optioned to give you this Soul-Integrated Assistive Entity. It's like they're rooting for you to live after all that chaos! What in the world were they thinking?" He gestured.

Soul-Integrated Assistive Entity? Is he talking about Sage?

With a sigh, he gets the clipboard and inspects it with keen eyes, "We don't even know what to do with you anymore, Samuel. It's a miracle you had..." Another glimpse. "this... "mana overdose". Otherwise, we wouldn't be able to have this discussion."

"Then... what is there to discuss?"

"Now that's the question I wanted to hear from you," the Administrator was pleased to hear that.

...

Location: Somewhere underground.

An ax was swung down. The air whistles. If Sam didn't jump away it would have been split. Instead of a slime, the orc hit the ground.

"SLime! AnoYING!" The dark-skinned, ax-wielding orc shouts in agitation.

"HA! What's WronG!? Why U No KiLL Slime? Ur too slow! HAHAHA!" The orc behind threw its insult. Their buddies' laughter soon followed. It's funny how one of their brothers was having a hard time dealing with a slime.

"ShuT UP! SHUT UP! DIE!" The attacking orc release a flurry of swing to which the slime all dodged. It was embarrassing even for it.

If there's any reason why slimes are considered a threat, it is how these icky things can ruin your food. Rule of thumb: if you wanna survive out here, never, NEVER, let a slime touch your daily bread. They leave this stench and poison that can turn your stomach inside out.

That's why if they're gonna be back for that jackpot - that gigantic juicy corpse - they're going to have to kill it.