The deeper I went, the darker and more suffocating the forest felt. It was like stepping into a world where light and sound didn’t work the same.

The trees were packed close, thick and twisted, with bark that looked almost burnt. Their branches reached down low, like they were trying to grab me. The little bits of moonlight that managed to slip through just made the shadows worse, giving everything a creepy vibe.

The ground was soft and uneven, covered in layers of wet leaves and patches of moss that soaked up sound, so even my own footsteps were swallowed up.

Roots stuck out everywhere, gnarled and slick, like they were set up just to trip me.

I could see why people avoided this place; it felt like something that didn’t want me here.

It was dead quiet, too, in a way that didn’t feel natural. I couldn’t even hear any bugs or animals, just the occasional rustle somewhere out of sight.

I tried to keep my breathing steady, but even that sounded too loud in this silence.

It was like the forest was swallowing every noise, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the creeping feeling that something was watching.

And then, there were those footsteps behind me, still there, still keeping just enough distance.

Whoever was tailing me had some serious guts to follow me this far into the dark forest. Nobody sane would do this without a reason, especially not with all the rumors said about this place.

Whoever was behind me must’ve had some pretty strong reason to be here too, and I had to be ready for whatever they were planning.

I kept walking, heading deeper into the forest. Not too far, but just enough to stay out of sight from the slums.

The footsteps behind me grew louder, like they’d stopped caring about hiding themselves.

Whoever these guys were, they wanted me to know they were close.

I stopped dead in my tracks, then slowly turned around, keeping my voice steady. “Alright, enough games. Show yourselves. Why are you following me?”

For a second, nothing but silence. I thought maybe I’d scared them off. But then the footsteps picked up again, closer this time, until I could make out two figures moving out of the shadows.

It was hard to make out any details in the dark, but I could feel the bad intentions rolling off them. They were close enough now for me to catch snippets of their low, whispered conversation.

“Is this really him?” one of them muttered, sounding a bit skeptical.

The other gave a careless shrug, his tone casual. “I dunno, but he fits the description pretty well.”

I frowned, my mind racing as I tried to figure out what they were talking about. Description? I didn’t like where this was going.

“Mind filling me in on what this ‘description’ is?” I asked, keeping my voice steady but not hiding my suspicion.

They both ignored me, talking like I wasn’t even there. The first one tilted his head, squinting at me as if sizing me up. “Doesn’t look like much. You telling me he survived the boss’s attack?”

The other one chuckled, a dry, unfriendly sound. “Yeah, but apparently, it was just dumb luck. If it’s him, we’re looking at a nice payday. If not, well, no harm done—just another slum rat out of the way.”

“Payday?” I cut in, piecing together bits of their conversation. “You guys must have the wrong person. I’m not carrying anything you’d want.”

One of them stepped forward, his figure barely visible, but I could tell he was bracing himself, ready for a fight. “Nice try, kid. We’ve been tracking you for days, and today you finally slipped up. You’re not getting away this time. If you’re the one we’ve been looking for, we’re in for quite the reward.”

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“Yeah, you fit the description well enough. Don’t make this harder than it has to be, and maybe we’ll keep it painless.” the second one added.

I took a step back, gripping my bag tightly. “Look, I have no idea what report you’re talking about. Whatever you’re after, you’re wasting your time with me.”

They both laughed, a cold, hollow sound that made the hairs on my neck stand up. The first one stepped closer, his voice darkening. “Oh, we know exactly what we’re after. We don’t need everything, just what you’d hate to lose most. Let’s start with that reward you nabbed in the boss rush event. Ringing any bells?”

The second guy tilted his head, his tone low but clear. “The boss says you’ve got some... interesting skills. Wasn’t clear on it then, but that healing trick of yours, surprised him quite a bit. Good enough to reattach a limb? Doesn’t matter much if your head comes off first, right?”

I took a steady breath, the pieces finally falling into place. These weren’t just random thugs—they were Ragnok’s men. It made sense now; Ragnok had clearly sent them after me, describing me just enough for them to pick me out. I’d stayed hidden for four weeks, keeping out of sight to avoid such scenario. But today, when I finally stepped out to gear up and prep for tomorrow's dungeon delve, I’d led them right to me.

They confirmed it: I was marked. Ragnok wanting revenge, not only for the reward he couldn’t get his hands on but for the humiliation of failing to finish me off during our first encounter.

Now, he’d sent his lackeys to finish what he couldn’t.

The two man stepped closer, drawing their swords. “You should’ve stayed hidden. Our boss doesn’t take lightly to those who cross him. Blame yourself for being marked.”

But strangely, I felt calm—maybe even a little amused. From the moment I knew they were tailing me, I’d had planned a way out.

As they closed in, they suddenly froze, glancing around as sounds began to echo through the trees. Rustling from every direction. Leaves shifting.

Twigs snapping. They couldn’t pinpoint it, but the noise was everywhere, like eyes watching them from all angles.

Their confidence wavered as small figures started appearing, first in the shadows, then emerging one by one from the bushes, dropping from branches, and surrounding us on all sides.

First, it was only a dozen or so, but the numbers kept growing—twenty, forty, eighty—until over a hundred of my slimes filled the forest floor, the trees, even crawling up the trunks and branches, their gelatinous bodies glistening faintly in the moonlight.

The two man took cautious steps back, eyes wide as they took in the sight.

They turned to me, shaken. “What… what are those things? Did you call these… creatures?” one of them stammered, voice cracking slightly.

I simply let the silence hang for a second as the weight of the situation sank in for them.

Since I’d stepped into the forest, I’d ordered all of my slimes to gather and hide, ready to swarm on command. I’d had enough of their threats, and I knew exactly who sent them. No need to drag this out any longer.

With a quick hand signal, I gave the order, my voice cutting through the night. “Ready...”

At once, every slime in the clearing began to shift, their bodies molding and reshaping.

Their right sides elongated, forming crossbows, while their left sides transformed into quivers.

It was an eerie sight—each crossbow and quiver perfectly mimicking the items they’d absorbed, only now they were green and gelatinous, shaped from the slimes’ own bodies.

I shouted my next command, “Aim...”

Without a single pause, each slime drew back its crossbow’s string, a thin, tight line formed from their own gelatinous material.

In perfect unison, bolted arrows began to materialize within each bow, emerging from the slimy interior and settling into place in the firing groove.

The bolts looked strange, translucent like the slimes themselves, but sharp and deadly all the same. The strings retracted further, their bows drawn back, aimed, and ready to release.

They could barely hold their swords steady, eyes darting from slime to slime, realizing just how outnumbered they were. The fear in their faces was almost satisfying.

“Fire!”

In an instant, the sounds of a hundred bolted arrows slicing through the air, each one loosed in perfect, ruthless unison.

The gelatinous bolts glowed faintly, a deadly green haze as they cut toward their targets with frightening speed, fueled by the combined physical power of both the crossbow and the greatsword my slimes had absorbed.

The first volley struck like a storm, each bolt hitting its mark with pinpoint accuracy.

The two men barely had a second to react before they were caught in the relentless onslaught.

Bolt after bolt punched through them, tearing through flesh and bone with brutal ease.

Each hit was a new hole, each impact followed by a gruesome splatter of blood that painted the ground in dark streaks.

Their armor and weapons offered no resistance; each strike more brutal than the last.

They staggered, unable to hold their stance as more bolted arrows poured in, ripping through their bodies and leaving them ragged, torn, barely standing. Holes riddled them from head to toe, a gruesome scene, until they were practically unrecognizable—just shredded remnants held together by what little flesh was left.

The ground beneath them was slick with blood, and bits of fabric and armor scattered like debris from a passing storm.

And as the final volley hit, they dropped, no longer human forms but hollow shells, barely held together.