Strangely, even as I lay still as the creature stares motionlessly above me, I could not cry. Thomas had turned into something horrific. With several slits open alongside the jaw running downward on its cheeks, it breathed with its mouth shut. A deep rumbling could be heard from its stomach as saliva dripped from its land gills. Its eyes constantly focused and refocused as countless transparent hair like structures oscillate around its eyes. The most awful thing about it was its breath. I never knew what exactly Thomas was doing in the bathroom but I could guess.

Its breath was a concentrated version of the deodorizing powder that I used in their bathroom. Flinching slightly at the smell, I suddenly pale. Seeing my slight movement, It’s eyes contract. Slowly, it raises it’s torso and examines me. What seems to be a fifth and sixth limb gently trace the headboard above my head. Metallic ringing fills the room as its extra limbs approach my face. I never really understood why horror stories slow down at the confrontations, but right now, I wish they never ended.

Just as one of its limbs traces my face down to my chin, Thomas jerks his ugly mug to the left. Following his line of sight, I find one of his minions seemed to have gained a third eye. It was like a bloody red hole between its eyebrows. After waiting for a few seconds, the thing falls to the ground. I guess it got tired. As if that was the signal, several others started getting holes in their head. The first few still got them between their eyebrows but the rest seemed to just grow holes in random places. Some even had an overlap with where their eyes were.

One by one they fell and painted the room red. Finally, when Thomas was the only one left, something smacked into his head, toppling him from the bed. Looking over at Thomas, I notice part of his head was missing. All of a sudden, my stomach starts to heave. Holding it down, I try to stop my stomach from moving, but it refused to stop. Realizing that my food was about to leave my body, I rush to the bathroom. Turning into a slime, I weave through all of the bodies and enter the hallway.

Oblivious to the happenings in my room, several of the things block my path. Too bad for them, I’m a professional slime. With the countless years of practice I spent as a slime, I made it through the crowd easily. Not only are they slow, but they also seem to lack any form of intelligence. Entering the bathroom, I position myself over the toilet. Waiting for my stomach to heave it contents out, I notice that I didn’t have a stomach as a slime.

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No longer having to throw up, I turn back into a human. The moment I do, my stomach empties the dinner. That's one beholder eye gone forever. Not that I liked it, it’s like the meat equivalent of brussel sprouts and kale, repulsive. Finishing my business, I close the bathroom door. Having the time to understand what happened, I realize that something must have blown a hole through the things in my room. The only problem is that there isn’t any magic that can go through walls and instantly rip through something. If the mage was powerful enough to do something like this, the mage should also be able to simply make the things disappear.

Calming my nerves, I put my ear on the door. Aside from the monotonous thudding signifying the slowly ambling group of things getting closer, there is no noise. Either Thomas is dead, or badly hurt. Before I left, he did seem to have been hit by the same magic as the others.

Waiting a bit longer, I hoped that my rescuer would carry me out. Wilbur always said that the strongest in the world often resued damsels in distress. They always came at the last moment and always carry the damsel to safety. He also said that the damsel would be set for life after the encounter. Just how many pillows would I be able to buy with the money my rescuer would give me? It has to be at least three. If I can buy more than seven, I’ll give him back the rest.

Shaking me out of my thoughts, the sounds of hurried footsteps and several angry shouts echo through the hallway. The footsteps rush by and the sound of fighting ensues further down the hall. Just when I thought that the reinforcements had passed me, another set of footsteps rings out in the hall. Stopping in front of my door, the person coldly says, ”Come out! It’s safe.”

Obediently complying, I open the door slightly and peek outside. What greets me causes me to slam the door on his foot. He was glaring angrily at me. “It wasn’t me, I didn’t do anything. Really!” I explain as he opens to door and examines me with hostility. “It wasn’t you huh? Then why are you hiding the fact that you're a dungeon?” he whispers.

Thinking quickly, I say, “What are you talking about? I’m not a dungeon, I’m a shapeshifter!” Watching him frown, I elaborate, “I can change my form into a different human or a slime. Nothing else. It’s a shapeshifter thing you see.” Seeming to, believe me, he asks another question, “You wouldn’t happen to know where a dungeon called Winowna is would you?”

Mentally celebrating, I answer the question with the best poker face I could manage, “Yea, she was killed in a private execution just days ago right?” Clicking his tongue, he turns to leave. My rescuer was leaving. My rescuer forgot to carry me out. He forgot my pillow money!