Slimantha walked forward—walked toward Latril. The lush green grass crushed beneath her soft steps as said steps carried her toward the red brick road. A gentle breeze caressed her, her long brown locks of hair swaying. The warmth of the sunlight kissed her. A calm smile showed upon her face. Overhead, a multitude of caws and quacks sounded out as crows and ducks continued their aerial brawl.
“Y-You’re really approaching me, aren’t you?” Latril said. She took a step back—a shaky step back. Her black shoes tapped against the red of the road’s bricks. “I-I order you to stop.” She held her right hand forward and then sweatdropped. The drop of sweat rolled down her right cheek. She gulped. “You’re not stopping, are you?” Her golden eyes were on the approaching slime summoner.
Slimantha shook her head. Her pleasant smile did not slip. She continued walking—continued approaching. The lush green grass continued to crush beneath her black shoes. The soft thuds of her steps sounded out as she drew closer to the red brick road—drew closer to Latril.
Latril broke out in a cold sweat. She gulped again. She took another shaky step back. Her backside collided with a red brick lamppost at the road’s edge. She froze. Her golden eyes were on Slimantha, who had reached the other edge of the road. She winced at the sound of the slime summoner stepping onto said road.
Slimantha balled up her right fist, and viscous blue materialized around said fist. Her black shoes tapped rhythmically against the red of the road’s bricks. She neared Latril—almost having reached the black-winged bird woman.
“H-Hold it!” Latril blurted out. Her golden eyes were on Slimantha’s right fist. Her breaths came out quick. She frantically fished something out of her black crop-top. “I-I’ll use my trump card.”
Slimantha’s steps stopped. Her black shoes now rested upon the red brick road. She stood not far from Latril. She blinked, the viscous blue vanishing from around her right hand. Her beautiful brown eyes went to the thing that Latril now held in her right hand. “Is that”—Slimantha blinked again—“a pill?”
Latril’s cocky smirk came back. “Behold!” she said, holding the silvery pill up to better display it. “Behold the pinnacle of my research! Behold the Sword-Cultivation Pill Mk 2!” She gave Slimantha another cocky smirk. “With this, I shall ascend to a higher form”—her cocky smirk then dropped away—“or I will explode into swords.” Her gaze shifted into that of a thousand-yard stare for a brief moment. Then she blinked. “I-I’m sure it will be fine.” She paled. “I-I hope it will be fine.” She blinked again.
Slimantha looked from the Sword-Cultivation Pill Mk 2 to Latril’s face. Her beautiful brown eyes met Latril’s lovely golden eyes. “Wait,” Slimantha said. “If that is the Sword-Cultivation Pill Mk 2, what about the Sword-Cultivation Pill Mk 1?”
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Latril’s gaze shifted back into that of a thousand-yard stare. “We don’t talk about the Sword-Cultivation Pill Mk 1,” Latril deadpanned. Her golden eyes then went to the silvery pill in her right hand. She popped the Sword-Cultivation Pill Mk 2 into her mouth.
Latril looked at Slimantha, and then the black-winged bird woman’s gaze turned distant. She winced and grabbed her sides. Her breaths turned rapid and short. She dropped to her knees, her face contorted in agony. She screamed.
Slimantha blinked. She leaned forward, her beautiful brown eyes on the peculiar scene playing out in front of her. Was Latril going to explode into swords? Actually, exploding into swords sounded kind of painful. She glanced down at Latril’s exposed belly. Said belly bloated up disturbingly before her very eyes. Actually, exploding into swords or not, that certainly looked painful.
“A-Are you OK?” Slimantha said, a drop of sweat running down her right cheek.
“Just”—Latril winced, her belly bloating even bigger—“shut up!” She threw her head and arms back. A sharp popping sound accompanied a silvery light exploding forth from Latril’s pained form. The light shot upward and pierced the heavens. Then the heavens-piercing light faded away.
In the heavens-piercing light’s wake, Latril was left sitting upon her heels. Her eyes were closed, and her face was pale. Her breaths came out in cute little pants, and her belly had returned to its usual flat shape. The ivory-skinned woman’s complexion returned to normal. Her breathing normalized as she caught her breath.
“You have”—Latril climbed back to her feet, her eyes still closed—“no idea how much that hurt.” She then opened her eyes. Both of her golden eyes now each possessed the likeness of an upward-turned sword. She was no longer a mere bird woman but was now a swird woman. “You thought you would be facing a bird woman, but in actuality, you will be facing me, a swird woman.” Her cocky smirk came back. “Now grovel.” She blinked. “Why aren’t you groveling?”
“You sure you aren’t going to explode into swords?” Slimantha said. The slime summoner put her hands behind her back and gave the new swird woman a pleasant smile.
“The Sword-Cultivation Pill Mk 2 was a success,” Latril said. “It was kind of a painful success but still a success. Why would I explode into swords at this point?” The black-winged swird woman blinked. “Wait. Did you want me to explode?!” Latril crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at Slimantha.
“O-Of course not.” Slimantha placed her right hand behind her head and gave a sheepish laugh. “It’s just”—she lowered her right hand and then raised her right pointer finger in front of herself—“I kind of want to see you explode into swords.” The slime summoner clasped her hands together cutely. “Do you think you could explode without exploding or something?”
Latril lowered her arms, a dumbfounded look upon her face. “No. How does one explode without exploding anyway?”
Slimantha smiled. “That’s easy. You just need to become an exploding master.” The slime summoner pointed at her own head as if she had just imparted some ancient wisdom.
“I’m not doing that,” Latril deadpanned. “Anyway”—her lovely golden sword eyes met Slimantha’s beautiful brown eyes—“where were we? Oh, right.” Latril’s lips twisted into a cocky smirk again. “I have become sword. Now grovel.”