Slimantha’s black shoes lightly touched down upon a fancy red rug as she walked down a golden hall. The long red rug stretched down said hall, a golden floor beneath said rug. Golden magical torches lined the walls, casting warm-hued light throughout the hall. What awaited her in Gold Mountain though?

Slimantha continued forward, Mitsy walking in front of her at the head of the group. Slimantha glanced to her right. Her beautiful brown eyes caught the lovely golden eyes of her girlfriend, Latril. The two lovers smiled at one another, and then Slimantha’s gaze drifted to a golden torch at her left. She reached for the magical item before pivoting around. She now walked backward, magical golden torch in hand. Her eyes were on Samuel. Both Black, Samuel’s girlfriend, and Rose walked beside Samuel—Black at Samuel’s right and Rose at Samuel’s left.

“What do you think?” Slimantha said, holding the torch up as she addressed Samuel. “Kind of cool right?” An orb of warm-hued light showed at the tip of the magical torch.

“I think”—Samuel glanced over the magical item before his blue eyes turned to Slimantha’s face—“it is a torch of some sort.” He then glanced down at the slime summoner’s shoes as said slime summoner continued to walk backward. His eyes returned to the backward-walking slime summoner’s face. “Maybe you shouldn’t be walking backward like that.”

“It will be fine,” Slimantha said. “I’m totes not going to fall this time.” She smiled and thrust the golden torch into Samuel’s hands.

“Why”—Samuel blinked—“are you giving me this?” He looked over the magical torch that he now held.

Slimantha gave him another smile. “Be a magical torchman and set the world ablaze.”

“But”—Samuel blinked again—“I don’t want to be a magical torchman.” Holding the torch in his left hand, he brought his right hand next to the radiant orb at the tip of said torch. “Can this thing even set anything ablaze?” Now he pressed his right hand into the glowing orb. “Well, I guess it is slightly warm.”

Slimantha gave him yet another smile. “Be a magical torchman and make the world slightly warmer.”

“I think”—Samuel tossed the magical torch with the slightly warm orb of light aside—“I’ll just hold out for that magical sword the goddess had blessed me with. It should be around here somewhere.” The torch he had tossed passed in front of Rose as it made its way toward the golden wall at the plant woman’s left. The hero then glanced down the hall before sighing. “Well maybe not here in this hall.”

Slimantha’s right hand went up to her lips. Her eyes squeeze shut. A giggle slipped out from between the slime summoner’s lips. Then her right hand went down, and her eyes re-opened. Her gaze went to the hero’s face.

“Don’t worry,” Slimantha said. “I’m sure your missing magical sword will turn up eventually.” She gave Samuel a big smile before adding, “Or not.” Then she about-faced, returning to walking forward. She glanced back over her left shoulder—glanced back at Samuel the Hero From Another World. “You know? What if, like, the torches are actually swords but they want us to think they’re torches?”

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Samuel blinked. “And who’s they?”

“Who’s they?” Now Slimantha blinked. She glanced forward before looking back over her left shoulder again. Her eyes met Samuel’s eyes. “They are the swords, and they want us to think they are torches.” She blinked again. Her gaze returned forward. Her right hand went to her chin. “Wait. Why would swords want us to think they are torches? Are the torches actually torches then?” She continued walking but a series of thuds caught her attention. She lowered her right hand, her eyes going to the corner ahead. Her footfalls came to a stop. So too did the footfalls of the rest of her group. The thuds continued, growing louder.

“Are those”—the voice came from Samuel—“footsteps?”

“Sounds like it,” Latril said, her gaze on the corner up ahead. The footsteps grew faster. Her eyes narrowed.

Something rounded the corner—something golden and decked out with jewels of various colors. It stepped from the corner’s golden floor and onto the fancy red rug stretching down the golden hall. It ran toward Slimantha and her group.

“Is that,” Samuel said, his blue eyes on the golden thing, “a suit of armor? Is it empty?” He watched as the heavy suit of jeweled golden armor skidded to a stop. A large golden double-handed ax with a double-bladed head showed at the armor’s back.

“Looks empty,” Black said. The cat woman stood at Samuel’s right, her brown eyes on the jeweled suit of armor. “Must be a living armor of some sort.” Her black feline tail gently brushed against Samuel’s right thigh as it swished.

The jeweled suit of golden armor reached for its ax. It took the large weapon from its back and readied said weapon in both its hands. It glanced over Slimantha’s group. Its gaze settled upon Mitsy, who stood closest to it. It raised its ax.

Mitsy paled. “I”—she took a step back—“am not the mimic you are looking for.” She then crouched down. A wooden chest with a flat top appear around the scared mimic.

A drop of sweat rolled down the helmet of the jeweled suit of golden armor. It lowered its ax, its gaze on the mimic’s chest. Then its gaze shifted to a certain swird woman, Latril, as said swird woman stepped in front of Mitsy’s chest. The armor’s gaze met the golden sword eyes of Latril the Crow.

“So you scared a mimic into her chest,” Latril said. A silver sword materialized in her right hand. “How about”—she pointed the tip of her sword at the jeweled suit of golden armor—“trying your luck against me instead?” Her golden sword eyes glinted dangerously. A cocky smirk stretched across her face. The jeweled suit of golden armor raised its ax, and then …

“Stand back,” Samuel said, stepping in front of Latril. “I’ll deal with this thing.”

Latril blinked. She lowered her sword to her side. Said sword then dissolved. “What the”—an expletive exploded forth from between her lips—“hero?! Are you”—another expletive burst out from within her—“blind?! Could you not”—yet another expletive roared out of her—“see I was about to fight that thing?!”

“S-Sorry,” Samuel said, glancing back at the irate swird woman behind him. “S-Should I step aside?”

Latril pouted. “Don’t bother. You already ruined the mood.” The swird woman’s eyes went to Slimantha as said slime summoner stepped up to her.

“Would a headpat make you feel better?” Slimantha said. She got a little nod from her girlfriend. Slimantha then gave her girlfriend a little smile and reached her right hand up to said girlfriend’s head. The soft tan skin of her right hand made contact with her girlfriend’s short black locks. She gave her girlfriend, Latril, a loving headpat.

Samuel sighed. Then he turned his attention back to the jeweled suit of golden armor. The hero drew his sword. The armor readied itself. He and the armor rushed one another. Sword and ax met. Sparks flew.