Chapter 8
Gate Initiation, Part II
(I Entered the Game and All I Got Were These Lousy Cantrips!)
The slime jiggles in response. I don’t know if that means it’s threatening me or just vibing. Either way, I need to finish this.
I flick open my spell list with a thought. Two options appear:
* Wizard’s Hand
* Light
I wish my options weren’t so limited, but now’s not the time to whine. It’s not like the slime is going to wait for me to figure out how to kill it. I glance at the basketball sized ball of blue jelly and its just sitting there, slightly vibrating. Or maybe it will?. . . I don’t know.
Wizard’s Hand is the only thing that might even remotely work. Telekinesis is better than . . . ambient lighting.
I focus on the spell’s name. A haptic tingling is set off in my mind as I trigger the spell.
A tingle runs down my arm. In the bottom left corner of my vision, a slim blue bar flickers into existence. MP: 3/3. It doesn’t budge.
Huh.
A quick glance at the wand in my hand reminds me why. My wand reduces the cost of all Spells by 1 MP.
In my case, it means my cantrips are free. That’s pretty useful. Or, it would be if my only offensive tool wasn’t a glorified ghost hand. ‘Offense’ is also a stretch. The Spell’s description clearly states that the hand cannot attack.
The air shimmers, and a glowing, silvery hand blinks into existence about shoulder height in front of me. It floats there, fingers wiggling slightly, like it’s ready for orders.
I can’t give the hand the order to attack the Slime. But maybe it can carry something that can?
My eyes dart around the grass until I spot a small stone, about the size of a golf ball.
“Grab that,” I tell the hand.
The spectral fingers curl around the rock and lift it smoothly off the ground.
I point toward the slime. “Throw it.”
Nothing happens.
The hand just hovers there. Like it’s judging me. Does throwing a rock activate its restriction on attacking?
That’s bogus! I sigh. “Okay, fine. Drop it. On the slime.”
The hand floats over, drifting like an extremely underpaid delivery driver, and positions itself above the jiggling blob. I mentally focus on the hand, trying my hardest to will the hand to drop the rock. It does.
Plorp!
The stone falls, smacking the slime dead center. For a moment, I allow myself to feel a sliver of satisfaction—until the slime bounces in place like nothing happened.
“Seriously?”
The hand hovers expectantly, waiting for further instructions. The slime wiggles again—still lazily bouncing forward, not even remotely fazed.
I blow out a slow breath, trying to stay calm. Alright, Joseph. That was just a warm-up. You’ve got magic, a free-floating hand, and a glorified JELL-O cup standing in your way. How hard can this be?
“Alright, let’s try this again.”
I scan the ground for another rock, find one about the same size as before, and mentally command the Wizard’s Hand to grab it. The spectral fingers curl around the stone and lift it effortlessly.
“Higher this time,” I mutter.
The hand drifts upward. Slowly. Like it’s savoring the experience. I resist the urge to yell at my own spell as it rises above the slime, then keeps rising, and rising—until, at about twenty feet, it just stops.
I frown. “That’s your limit, huh?”
No response, of course. It’s a spell, not a conversational partner. But still, good to know.
“Alright. Drop it.”
The hand releases the rock. It plummets through the air, picks up speed, and—
Plorp!
The stone disappears into the slime’s gelatinous body with a wet schlorp. The thing jiggles slightly, like I just insulted its mother but not enough to warrant an actual reaction.
Then—
Plop!
The stone smacks the top of the slime and sinks harmlessly into its ooze body.
The first rock I threw slides out of the slime’s underside, falling harmlessly to the ground.
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I blink.
The slime doesn’t even slow its bouncing and vibrating. It looks like it’s dancing.
“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I stare at the jiggling blue blob, then at my glowing magic hand, then back at the blob.
My heart sinks.
I knew being a spellcaster was going to suck with the stats I had been assigned. I knew it. I just didn’t think it’d be this bad.
I have one job: Kill five monsters. My only available spell with any utility is Wizard’s Hand, which is about as deadly as an underwhelming party trick. My grand strategy of throwing rocks has officially failed.
I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose.
“This Quest is impossible.”
WHUMP!
The slime surges forward with way more speed than I was expecting. One second, it’s bouncing in place like an excited Jell-O mold, and the next, it’s barrel rolling across the ground like a sentient tumbleweed made of gelatin.
I don’t even have time to react.
It slams into my shins with all the force of an enthusiastic golden retriever puppy—except instead of fur, it’s cold, squishy, and wraps itself around my boots like a hungry amoeba.
“Oh, shit—”
I stumble back, nearly falling on my ass. My feet feel stuck, like I’ve stepped into an industrial-strength glue trap. The slime quivers, sending little vibrations up my legs, and for a moment, I have the horrifying thought that it’s going to start dissolving me.
But… it doesn’t.
Instead, it just—vibrates. Like a particularly aggressive massage chair.
“…What the hell?”
I yank my right foot free with a gross squuuuckkk, leaving behind a slick sheen of slime residue over the surface of my boots. The blob gives a delighted wiggle. Encouraged, I do the same with my left foot, and as soon as I’m fully extracted, the slime does a happy little circle.
I squint at it.
It jiggles back.
Okay. Either this thing is incredibly bad at being a monster, or it’s just too small to be a real threat. I glance down at my boots, half-expecting them to start sizzling, but nope—no acid burns, no smoke, not even a hole. Just some goo.
“So,” I say slowly, looking down at the sentient jelly blob that just gave me an unsolicited foot massage. “You’re not trying to eat me?”
The slime vibrates again.
Huh. Not sure what that means, I think. You’re talking to a Slime, Joe.
I cross my arms and tilt my head, considering my options.
On one hand, this thing is supposed to be my enemy. My first ever monster kill in this nightmare God Game.
On the other…
I sigh. “Okay, it’s settled. I’m taking you with me until I figure out a way to kill you with magic.”
The slime bounces excitedly.
Great. I have a pet.
I crouch down, hands hovering just above the slime’s jiggly surface. Up close, it looks even weirder—like someone left a bowl of blue Jell-O out in the sun, but instead of melting, it decided to become sentient.
“Alright, little guy,” I mutter. “Let’s see if I can actually pick you up without getting absorbed into the goo dimension. Or you actually being acidic—that would be a dick move, by the way!”
I slide my fingers into its surface. At first, there’s no resistance—just a cool, wet, squish as my hands sink in. I grimace, half-expecting to lose my fingertips to some kind of gelatinous digestive process, but then— wait.
There’s something solid beneath the goo.
I dig in deeper, feeling around, and suddenly—there it is. A core? A nucleus? Whatever it is, it gives me just enough grip to hoist the slime up.
It’s . . . light. A lot lighter than I expected. Like, basketball-with-weird-texture levels of light.
“Well, that's convenient,” I say, tucking it under my right arm like an overgrown stress ball. The slime wobbles but doesn’t resist.
I take a step forward—
DING!
A pulsing sensation ripples through my brain. I freeze, caught off guard by the still unfamiliar sensation. Right on time, a new notification screen blips into existence in front of me:
New Ability Gained!
Slime Tamer (Beginner)
[Description: You have the innate ability to befriend weaker oozes. While this Ability is equipped, Basic Oozes will have 25% reduced hostility and all Oozes will deal 5% less damage.]
I blink.
Then, I grin.
“Hah! Look at that—you are useful.” I nudge the slime with my elbow. It jiggles happily.
I pull up my interface, navigating to my newly acquired Ability. A quick mental command, and—boom—equipped. I don’t feel any different, no sudden rush of power or mystical slime-whispering abilities, but hey, free passives are free passives. More importantly, this means I can gain new skills just by doing stuff. Not everything has to come from fighting or spellcasting. That’s… interesting.
And probably something I should keep in mind.
After equipping the [Slime Tamer] Ability, my interface blinks as a line of text appears near the top of the Abilities screen.
Ability Points (AP)
Maximum AP: 3
AP Available: 2 of 3
AP Assigned: 1
* Slime Tamer (Beginner) [1 AP]
Interesting, I think. I unequip the Ability, and the slime under my arm seems to vibrate in response. My ‘AP Available’ ticks back up to ‘3 of 3’ and ‘AP Assigned’ drops to 0. I re-equip the Ability with a sigh of relief. So, just more resource management I’ll need to stay on top of.
The slime under my arm vibrates joyfully (I think) in response to the Ability being re-equipped.
As I walk, the little slime still tucked under my arm like a wobbly football, my mind keeps circling back to one unavoidable problem—magic.
Or, more specifically, my complete and utter lack of useful magic.
I have two spells. One of which is Wizard’s Hand. A glorified telekinetic butler that can’t even throw things properly. The other is Light. I’m not sure this God Game would make things so easy as to present me with monsters weak to light, particularly given that I am currently traipsing through a field in broad daylight. And my only other ability is befriending slimes. Which, while hilarious, isn’t going to do much when I inevitably run into something that actually wants to kill me. At least, I think it won’t. The image of me commanding a literal army of jellies rises unbidden to my mind and I chuckle at the thought.
So, what the hell am I supposed to do really?
The smart move would be to just grab a weapon. A stick, a rock, a very sharp leaf—literally anything would be better than playing magical patty-cake with monsters.
But if I go that route, I lose out on the Advanced Chest reward upgrade. And I don’t know how much loot matters in this world yet, but something tells me a better chest means better survival odds. And until I have more information about what’s included in these Chests, I can’t risk it.
I sigh, adjusting the slime under my arm. “You’re lucky you’re adorable, dude.”
It lets out a little bloop in response.
I keep moving, my boots crunching over the grassy terrain. It’s getting a little too warm with my winter coat on, and I unzip the front to let some of the cool breeze into my under layers. Eventually, I reach the base of a large hill. It’s steep, but not unmanageable. I take a breath and start climbing, using my free hand to steady myself against the incline. Nothing like a good incline at a steady, low intensity!
Halfway up, something catches my eye.
A thin, wavering smudge against the pale blue sky.
Is that . . . smoke?
I stop, squinting.
Yep. Definitely smoke. A dark, curling plume drifting upward, too steady to be a wildfire.
My stomach tightens. Smoke means fire. Fire means people. And people mean…
Well, I have no idea what people mean in this world yet.
I push forward, cresting the top of the hill.
And there, in the distance, I see it—a factory.
Massive smokestacks rise from the squat, industrial-looking building, spewing black clouds into the sky.
A factory.
In a Dead World?
I don’t know what I expected to find here, but it sure as hell wasn’t that.