"Are you really a slime?"

When it first heard his name especially when he had one, to begin with, it dismissed him as a joke. Names are given for one to be distinguished, to have a place in this living hell. 

It lived long enough to observe monsters refer certain others not as mere grunts, not with "Hey you!" or "You there!", but as a separate individual, as their respected superior. Whether they earned their status in role, combat, wisdom, achievements, and such, age gifted the slime competence to comprehend the concept of names.

It had heard name coming from many, but never from a slime.

Heh, it was ridiculous. Names are given by others, and there are no "others" for a slime. After all, unlike some races, slimes don't gather in groups; numbers don't equal more strength when they fight by more-or-less harmfully bouncing on something. If anything, they'd further endanger themselves by attracting more attention.

Scavenge in the wilderness, and hide in the qualms of loneliness, hoping no monsters would intrude in their abode, or no fellow slime would ruin their cover. That's how a slime's life works... until it saw something it never expected to see in its whole spineless and miserable life.

At first, it thought he was retarded, especially with his questions. The gigantic corpse had many corners where he can hide, and dragging an enemy by retreating to your hiding spot is a stupid move only newborns do. And like any newborns, it knew he was hopeless.

But that strange maneuver: his attack that threw the wolf as he kept... flinging things at it, has shattered its impression towards him. And not long after, just as he was desperately trapped in his hole, whatever method he did to drive off the wolf in the nick of time has it realized he was different.

Seeing his action sparked a strange sensation to stick together, to learn more about him and his ways.

It didn't want to live in fear anymore. The sorrow of witnessing many of its kin dying for scraps has made it numb. If it had the power, it'd take revenge on all the monsters who harassed it. If it had the chance, it'd pave a future everyone can depend on. If it knew how to kill, then it will kill.

If only...

"Yes... I am."

"Then, please! Teach me everything! 

...

"Umm, hello?"

Paranoid about the wolf rising from the dead, the nameless slime sneaked, then nudged him.

(     -  -  )( 0 w  O    )

"... Oh dear."

(     -  -  )( o _ o    )

The line between life and death was blurry, and he couldn't differentiate himself from a potato; ever unmoving and silent. The slime rushed behind the wolf corpse, as what his failing vision has shown. A few seconds flowed in precious time, it bounced back and poked him to inject nutrients and... whatever mixed in. He tasted the unimaginable, but hungry as he was it was a gift from an angel nevertheless.

(   -    -)( > O   <  )

"Don't die on me!"

The grim reaper lost grip. His soul swam back to the living realm as did his consciousness. He was startled to see his fellow too close for comfort. He backed off, and the slime wonders why he doesn't want to eat, clueless how it's disrespecting his sense of privacy. However slime anatomy functions, his sore body ordered him to back down.

"... Ow."

"Yes! You're not dead... again!"

"That's an interesting way of saying I'm still alive."

"Well, you almost had to die twice!"

Wrong. It was five times... or was it six? 

Let's try to recall everything: there was one time he was almost found out in the boulders by that drake, that time he was almost stabbed by pointy rocks, another time he was almost caught by that wolf's ambush, that moment he was almost cornered by that same wolf, then almost got bitten by that same wolf again when he got incapacitated, and if it wasn't for his fellow slime's convincing act, almost ripped apart by a pack of wolves.

There were six "almost"s already, four of which involved wolves. He has no idea why out of all things it was dogs. Though on the positive side, it could have been worse like a dragon, or humanoids with guns, or demons.

"Sigh. Thank you... for your help back there."

He was grateful for it, but there's a lot of work to do. But he couldn't be any more glad to see it was here.

"Never mind that! How did you even kill that thing!?"

"Stabbed its brain, plain and simple."

"... "Stabbed"? "Brain"?"

He lightly groaned. It's like he was forced to babysit a child too curious for anyone's patience.

"Look. This is going to be sudden, but I want to spend less time explaining. There's just no telling when other monsters would knock on our doors uninvited once they noticed that gigantic lizard corpse. I know that this makes me sound like some obnoxious CEO, but if we want to survive together I need you to follow my orders...

Will you join me?"

Without doubts and delay, the slime answered joyfully, "Yes!"

He sure talks fast. It couldn't follow much of what he said. But it sure did clearly catch the combination of words "join me". The slime tingled with bouncy eagerness. And that infectious eagerness assured him there's a beneficial long term partnership between them.

"Then I need you to try making this."

He pulled out the knife from the dead wolf's eye socket as it squelched. He flicked the rock shiv to shed blood. With meat being artificially grown in a sterile environment where he came from, it was nauseating. But he was no wuss, and shouldn't be especially now.

"This is what I used to kill it," He waved the primitive weapon. If he wasn't proud of presenting his humble creation, that'd be a bit of a lie.

"Woaaah. You did it with that thing? How?"

The slime leaned. The sight mildly entertained him on how it was fanatical over a sharp rock, like how a pet dog would to a tennis ball.

"Here," He put the blade to the ground in front for it to grab. "Well? You wanna take a better look or what?"

"What?"

"What do you mean "what"? You have my permission to touch it," Is there anything that it didn't understand? Was there an error in his telepathy? His knowledge about how it works is limited, being that whatever he says is converted into a message the other party can understand.

For example, if he said or thought "ground" in English, others may hear or perceive it as "what we stand on", or the precise word in their own language if they have a solid vocabulary.

"Touch? As in... eat it?"

...

"Hey Sage," He untethered his mental connection to it, hoping it wouldn't hear his private conversation. "Care to shed some light?"

With a professional tone, Sage confidently answered, [Unlike you who had hands in your previous life, I believe that your friend has no concept of "grabbing". With your race digestion method being through simple skin contact, it may have confused the action "touch" with "eat".]

"Ahh. That makes sense."

The slime was puzzled, and it did a little bit of thinking. It did saw him doing things involving making things... fly. Now that does beg the question: did he do it by spitting things? There was this one time it saw this long wriggly creature that spat things to its prey.

Wait...

What if somehow, it was that long monster who named Samuel, and he learned that move from it?

"I think I know what part you misunderstood."

"Huh?"

"Observe."

He grabbed a random pebble, "When I say touch, you just try to stick it on your body."

The slime's cogs and gears spun at their fastest in this lecture that was of utmost importance. It was etching each of his actions and words to its memory, for everything he will show will be the most important lessons of its life, "... Uhuuuuuh."

"And what I did earlier, as you may or may not have seen, is that I threw it by whipping a limb," He extended a tentacle with the pebble at the tip, then swing it to throw a few meters. Seeing so made it gasp, it was something it never saw before.

"What?! That's how you did it? Can I do that?!"

"... Don't tell me you're serious."

The slime proceeds to do sort of things that gave him mild discomfort, as it resembled ferrofluid dancing on magnets. Stretching its body was a strange sensation, but it was a new and thrilling experience it never thought was possible.

"You're serious," And there was nothing more serious than his voice. 

To think he can do something so simple what no slimes have ever done. It became clear slimes' rank in the world was caused by their own inability to explore themselves. But he wasn't disappointed about that fact, it just means the limit of their potential is undefined.

"Now try it."

And it did so without holding back. The first few tries were a complete failure, by subconsciously absorbing rocks as if to swallow them, then its body involuntarily purging it out knowing it wasn't nutritious. But the slime wasn't discouraged, determined to learn from his lessons. Gradually, it was becoming better at physical manipulation, at grasping objects. Though it was still prone at minor slip-ups.

"Agh! How can you do it so easily?"

He guessed slimes needs a bit of practice to fully control themselves, as he wonders why it was effortless for him to do so. Maybe because he has a good mind and imagination to shape his form, or maybe there were other factors that came into play. But regardless things need to get going, and maybe he shouldn't push a slime with barely any dexterity to learn tool making skills yet.

Now, no one needs to be a genius to figure out how the wolf was able to crawl under his radar. With a bit of observation, it's calloused hide's texture wasn't any different from the rough terrain. Nature did a wonderful job for these animals to adapt and complement camouflage, and if it wasn't for Sage's last-second warning everything was game over.

"Hey, Sam! Come here, I need your help."

The slime, now designated as "Sam", stopped practicing out of suspicion, as it heard something odd.

"Sam?"

"Yeah, I'm not exactly creative at naming."

Sam, short for Samuel. He could've picked common random western names like Bob, Joe, Bill, Jeff, but thinking for its name is not his priority now is it? As long as its got identification for convenience's sake then it's fine.

Sam hopped near Samuel.

"Wait, my name's now... "Sam"?"

"What? You don't like it?"

"I... I really love it! It's like the shortened version of yours! Thank you!"

Sam bounced out of gratitude, and he couldn't wonder why would it be so grateful over something trivial.

"Anywho... I have a task for you."

"Right away!"

Sam's childish happy-go-lucky attitude was beginning to tire him. It perfectly reminded him of the nursery in his school that was spiraling in pure chaos daily. When the teacher and the substitute teacher were "sick", a request straight from the principal to babysit all of them was his greatest nightmare, worse than his drill sergeant whose veins are always at the brink of bursting. 

Children. So much innocence and curiosity about the world. But being "negotiated" to play tea party was the day he learned true patience.

"Sigh."

"Is there somethin-"

"Hold this thing."

Two small tentacles as his two fingers pinched the blade to pass, carefully avoiding the sharp edges. 

"That's called a knife. Do you see those edges? Under no circumstances that you do NOT touch them."

The handle (or tang) turned to Sam who, with extreme caution, grabbed it. It was nervous, knowing it was holding the same thing, a knife as he called it, that can kill.

"Stand on its back."

He was near the neck of the dead beast, and Sam jumped where he said so, albeit hesitantly.

His idea was to skin its hide and use it as some sort of camo netting, as there wasn't any plausible solution to narrow the entrance for now. Hopefully, however, the hide has the same color as the surroundings, because it'd be awfully annoying if he and his newfound friend would get in trouble from their lacking ability to see colors.

He was no professional butcher or veterinarian surgeon, but he had enough brain power and confidence to avoid regrettable mistakes. As for Sam? That's why he was here to guide it.

"Stab its nape."

"Nape?"

"This part."

Samuel's tentacle poked the aforementioned section.

"Aim the tip down, then push the knife downwards as hard as you can. It's not that hard, right?"

Sam raised the knife, and per order, pointed the sharp tip below. Sam braced for the worst as it steeled its resolve... the knife penetrated its nape. 

There was blood seeping from the small wound.

Blood.

Sam had seen blood before, but never so fresh. It knew that this strange dark liquid is what gives life to others, as it had seen monsters fighting monsters as each side bled to death. And to learn that Sam itself was making it bleed? For the first time of its life, it had a taste of... dominance. 

Sam felt like it could take on the world!

"Ha... HahaHAHA!"

Sam stabbed the knife again and again in a hysterical joyride. Whatever going inside its brain, Samuel would never want to know.

The knife split in two from the repeated strike when it struck the hardness of the carcass's cervical spine. The fractured piece dropped near Samuel, who stared in a blank state. Sam went silent... and panicked.

"No... No! No no no no NO!"

"Listen. It's ok."

Honestly, he had overestimated the hide's durability, and he was surprised to see his knife take a few blows. 

"It's "ok"?! IT'S "OK"?! I BROKE THE ONLY THING THAT YOU USED TO FIGHT! I SHATTERED THE FUTURE WHERE I COULD'VE BEEN A QUEEN! HOW CAN THAT BE OK?! I'M SORRY! I'M SO SORRY! I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry I'm so-"

Sam flowed down around the neck like melting ice cream on a popsicle, never seeming to stop muttering to itself as if the world was ending. 

... Did it mention something about being a queen?

He was going to regret sharing some of his empathy for his whole race if this keeps up. Samuel dismissed his friend's despair and searched for suitable pebbles.

"Hmm... not that one... or that one... Ooh! That one's a bit wide. Should be good for skinning."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

He ate the pebble he found and chewed it, precisely milling the unnecessary rocky materials with... whatever he is made of.

"And there we go... done. Hey Sam!"

"Yes... I know. I'm so careless and pathetic... I endangered both of our lives... What I have done is unforgivable... I'm sorry."

"..."

If he had his old eyeballs, he'd roll them. He approached Sam who looked like a pancake... a sad pancake... a very depressed pancake.

"I said it's ok you dramatic dimwit. Were burning a lot of time," He spat his newly made creation in front of Sam.

Like a balloon inflated by car exhaust, Sam came back to its senses. Samuel sighed once more. If this keeps up no tasks will be completed.

"Gasp! You can make more?!"

"Yes. Though it takes some effort."

"Gasp! Can I have it!?"

"You can have it if you want."

"Gasp! Thank you!"

"Then can we PLEASE GET ON WITH IT?"

He was losing his patience, and hearing gasps in three seconds interval was beginning to be a threat to his mental health. And thank god, after Sam's energy settled down, progress was starting to show.

With slimes' poor strength, the process was arduous. If not then clumsy. Sam had trouble cutting apart the carcass's skin, while Samuel made another one for his own use. Their knives are prone to chipping and breakage, especially when handled by Sam. It couldn't be helped that he had to make more, as the carcass's leather was quite tough indeed. While Sam was annoying as did its verbal tantrum, it listened to each of his detailed steps with complete attention. They had trouble flipping the wolf's corpse upside-down to skin the rest, but with a bit of effort, they did it. 

They don't even need the hide in one piece, as half of it has enough surface area to cover the entrance. Sam didn't know what big plans he had, but it was interesting for him to do whatever he was doing. There were times Sam questioned what was the point of living, why it has to go through constant danger when there was nothing in the end. Life felt empty and shallow when there were no answers to its questions. That was until it met him. Just following his orders gave Sam vigor, he was giving it a purpose it never had. He even gave it a name... as if it had a place in the world.

"Hey, Sam. This might be a bit too late to ask, but," He was chewing a stone, a big one he couldn't fully absorb. Their knives can cut meat, but not bones. They'll need something heavy to chop its limbs. He was thinking an axehead would do well, by raising it up together and dropping like a guillotine. But there was one thing that still bothers him, "Where did you hide when I was fighting?"

The giant dead drake was leaning on the tunnel walls, and Sam could have hidden in the crevices. But the wolf's ferocious hatred wouldn't just give up easily, especially when slimes, as the wolf put it, "makes anything disgusting."

"I hid in a hole."

"Hole? You mean a burrow?"

Weird. He didn't see any burrows there. He supposed his telepathy couldn't properly convey nouns, and because Sam never had a good vocabulary also. It literally refers to anything that isn't food as "thing". Bones? Thing. Leather? Thing. Rocks? Thing. He's been teaching which things are properly called, so it should know the difference between holes and caves.

While separating the rest of the hide, accurately rubbing the knife's edges against the fat as its tentacle pulls the leather apart, Sam replied in a child's innocence manner, "No. Like the drake's hole."

Samuel paused.

...

...

...

"Wait... what hole."