Rozalin was surrounded by an open field, her vision dark.

Everything burned. Even with the miraculous Pain Resistance Skill, her body cried ardent shouts of protest at the hell she'd put it through. Her mind continued to work in overdrive, looking for more enemies that were no longer there.

The reduced mass of slime-flesh twitched occasionally. Yet no matter how she willed it, her body refused to move.

HP : 1/212 (+0.4/hour) Status : Severe Weakness, Burn, Reduced Recovery Rate, Overdraft, Stunned

Her brain realized that the bandit leader had fallen, but all the same, she was having trouble processing that same piece of information. An endless loop had been playing over and over.

Don't lose. Don't lose. Don't lose. Don't lose.

As if having a fever dream, her senses continued flitting around to and fro. This erratic motion continued for a while until it finally slowed. Finally, her hearing returned and locked onto a spot a few meters away.

Amalia was folded up into a ball, her back heaving up and down. Between Rozalin and Amalia was precisely one dead man.

It was too hard to focus on this series of events. Pain was still radiating through Rozalin's body. She slowly realized why that was and exactly how close things had been. Then she noticed something else in her peripheral vision.

Skill unlocked!

Due to the effects of the Title 'Deathwarded' and meeting additional criteria, Last Wind Lvl.1 Acquired!

Last Wind Lvl.1 (MAX) - Passive (Rare)

Ability to push on past physical limits through willpower alone, staving off death and preventing succumbence to injury. User's status will continue to deteriorate at an accelerated rate. Cannot occur indefinitely. Exertion may lead to Soul fragmentation.

Much closer than she could ever realize.

Seconds more passed, as the Slime-woman continued to lay there in a stupor. With great effort, she finally managed one complete, coherent thought. It radiated and resonated outward from her Core.

'Fuck. ... Eeeeverythingggg.'

Truly a masterpiece of wit and elegance. A bubbling noise was made—the Slime equivalent of coughing. Then she set her sight on the dead corpse beside her.

'Need. To. Recover ...'

A small tendril instinctively reached out toward's the man's hand, finally latching on. Skin was slowly dissolved as blood seeped from the created wound. The man's now-unneeded lifeblood began to dye the tendril red. The blood and flesh were slowly turned into nutrients that would aid in recovery.

It would be a long process.

In the meantime, Rozalin managed to gather her wits. There was a figurative hoard of information, corpses, and valuables that needed to be looted. They would have to wait.

Survival was the highest priority now, after all.

Never before had it been so exhausting to talk over the Royal Guard 'Link'. Pain nearly scrambled Rozalin's attempts. But there was still more to be done. Even if these men were dead, Rozalin was now acutely aware of her precarious situation. Should so much as a Horned Rabbit look at her wrong, she really would be dead.

A distressing thought for later. She could ponder what would happen if she didn't wake up yet again another day. Surely it couldn't be worse than becoming a blob in a dark cave full of bugs, right?

"Amalia ... Amalia, can you hear me?"

There was no response.

Rozalin could see the girl a short distance away. Logically, she knew Amalia should be able to hear her. So why didn't she respond? Rozalin surveyed the surroundings for any recovering enemies or information. Using the power of her Domain Skill, she was able to discern the situation around them.

Blood clung to the grass and dirt like a fungus. It had pooled in numerous places. Stray limbs were strewn among the crimson blades of grass. The meadow was littered with weaponry and decaying flesh. The few men who were still breathing may as well have been dead—unconscious and disfigured as they were.

Blood, urine, feces, vomit, tears, brain matter, and all the other bits that make up people were in haphazard piles. Without a doubt, the smell must be horrendous.

'Ah. So that's what happened ...' 

Had she a mouth, Rozalin would be frowning most severely. She'd screwed up. Again.

She examined the shallow hole she'd left Amalia in. It had been dug up near the top. Apparently, the girl had managed to get herself out of the hole. Unsurprising. It wasn't reinforced much magically, nor deep.

The whole situation had turned into a nightmare. Everything had gone wrong. Had she more energy, Rozalin would be cursing to the heavens and back. Instead, she lay there while treating the dead man's arm as a makeshift IV.

There was no point worrying. Rozalin began to focus on recovering her health and Mana. Between all her available Skills and healing, it would only take a moment to be able to move again. With a bit of consumption of 'available resources', perhaps light combat would even be possible.

In the meantime, she could do little more than lay there with a frustrating sense of inadequacy building.

'If I had been stronger, this wouldn't have happened. I need to adjust my plans. Frontal combat was no good. That one mentioned another camp of bandits. Should I sneak off another night and kill them all? Moving our home may no longer be enough. But then there's Amalia. She's only human. Too fragile. Think, think ...'

Ideas ran through the woman's mind, discarded and modified on the fly. She continued eating and Devouring the ex-bandit leader's arm. Strength returned.

'I promised I'd protect her. More than physically, mentally too. I need to raise her properly. Make her useful and prepared. Do a better job than my— ...' 

Her thoughts stalled as a word became lodged in her mind. Rozalin hated comparing herself to others, and the realization that she was doing so subconsciously soured her mood. Such an unwanted thing was quickly shaken off.

Rozalin had recovered enough strength to move. She crept towards Amalia, putting a soft 'arm' against the young girl's back while cooing her name. Amalia seized up for a brief moment.

"Are you okay?"

There was finally a reaction.

"... R-Roz?"

Rozalin noted the girl's labored breath, vomit down her front, bloody lip, and shaking hands. Mana was sent into her body, only to realize Amalia hadn't been able to finish fixing the damage to her spine. Even if she could walk right now, it couldn't have been easy or painless. And this was disregarding the internal injuries.

Rozalin suddenly found herself wishing she had more thugs to rip apart.

"Lay down. Everything's fine now. I'm going to treat your injuries."

Amalia looked around, making eye contact with Ralph's motionless face. He was still staring up at the sky, eyes wide.

"N-No. No, no no no. I don't want to see this anymore. It's just like when I found Father. He—I'm, I can't ..."

Amalia's chest began to heave again as her breathing quickened. It was much too fast. One of Rozalin's 'arms' reached out, cupping the girl's chin and pushing her sight away from the corpses.

"Don't think about it. Look at me. Everything is fine now. You did well. Just take deep breaths and relax."

Rozalin murmured to the girl, gently coaxing her sight away from the mess all around. Rozalin's unique, soft and fragrant scent began to mask the iron stench in the air, filling Amalia's nose.

"B-But Roz, I-I killed that man. I'm a—"

"Shhh. Stop blaming yourself," Rozalin interrupted, "You didn't do anything wrong. They attacked you first. They tried to kill you. You just stabbed him, you didn't kill him. Understand? He fell over afterward, then tried to get back up and hurt you. Remember? I had to stop him while you weren't looking. You did nothing wrong, see? It was his fault. He did this to himself."

"He ... what? When did—I don't understand ..."

"Don't you recall? The noise he made getting up?"

Amalia's heaving stopped, her mouth hung open, "Noise? Was there? W-Was that it?"

"Yes, that's what it was," Rozalin lied, "Don't think about it anymore. It was self-defense—you, or them. I told them to stop and they refused. Don't look at their faces. Just lay down and I'll fix you up. I won't let them hurt you again."

The young girl's trembling hands slowly calmed. A long, tense moment passed. Rozalin continued stroking Amalia's back, fully intent on continuing the lie. After all, she'd promised. And a promise was worth countless white lies. She couldn't afford Amalia having a breakdown. Not here, and certainly not now.

Rozalin held a belief. Sometimes, people needed comfort. If they wanted the truth, then they could seek it on their own once they were prepared. This was a textbook example of such a time.

Finally, Amalia's mouth unfroze. Rather than use the Link, her thoughts were a whisper.

"That ... must be what it was. That's right. They started it, didn't they? They tried to hurt Roz. I didn't do anything wrong. They should have just stopped. That's how it should have been. That's how ..."

The words were barely discernable, but Rozalin was close enough to hear it. The girl continued muttering, her mind whirling with pain, fear, anxiety, and all manner of thoughts.

"—Amalia, it's fine now. Do you hear me? I'm here. Don't worry about anything else. We'll go home soon and take a nice, long nap. We'll get you cleaned up, have a nice dinner, I'll make you some medicine, and no one will hurt you anymore. Understand?"

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

A moment passed. Amalia finally nodded.

The situation had finally de-escalated. This brought Rozalin much relief. Even more so knowing that her little protegee bought into her own version of events. It was funny how easily an 'improved' version of what transpired had occurred to the woman.

Rozalin was familiar with a saying: 'If you repeat a lie often enough, it becomes the truth.'

And this truth was far more convenient. Even if it surfaced later, the real truth wasn't needed at this moment. A 'white lie' was fine. And while Rozalin hated liars with a passion, there was a hypocritical difference in the severity of different lies and promises.

Which brought the squishy woman to another conclusion.

While she hadn't broken her promise, she had still killed over a dozen men. She wasn't looking forward to that conversation with Amalia. As such, she'd attempted to downplay the situation. The last thing she wanted was for her only companion to abandon her to solitude.

That's right. She'd think about it if Amalia brought the matter up. Until then, she just wanted to go home and recover.

Time passed. Rozalin had coaxed Amalia into lying down. The shaggy knight had brought along one each of their tightly rationed Health and Mana recovery potions. They had been located in a pouch behind the girl's back. One of the potions had disappeared, leaving behind a Mana recovery potion that had a crack in it. Half of it had leaked out.

Rozalin ingested the mixture and set out to work. Compared to her current form, the human body was far more complicated to repair. Simply ingesting matter, directing Mana, and waiting was enough to make the Slime-woman feel better. There was still a dull ache in her Core that persisted, but she ignored it. Her Mana pool would have to wait.

Amalia's internal damages were patched up as best as possible. Rozalin was very familiar with Amalia's body, so it was easier than taking on a 'new patient'. Strains of venom were used as impromptu anesthesia. Blood was slowly drained from her lungs. Nerve damage was mitigated and new nerves painstakingly regrown. The girl reported some numbness and light pain by the end of things, but it would suffice for now. 

The scent of blood remained in the air, but Rozalin had made sure to keep Amalia distracted. After all, given this entire mess, there was still one juicy bit of bait for Rozalin to dangle in front of her companion's sensitive nose. Namely, the awaiting captives down below.

Since the damage had already been done, they may as well make the best out of a poor situation. For Rozalin, this meant reappropriating all these thugs' valuables. And she knew for Amalia, this meant helping people. Rozalin would attempt to focus on their role in saving people, rather than the slaughter she'd committed.

Amalia was more or less fully recovered. Rozalin had topped off her health but was still rather low on Mana. Thankfully, she had an idea or two how to proceed from here.

She'd be able to sow some good 'karma' with Amalia and with only minor risk. None of the men escaped. Unless more stragglers popped up, they should be fine. Plus the terrain would be more advantageous compared to this open field.

Rozalin gestured to the campsite, "Let's head down. There are beds and grain inside that cave. We'll bring the captives inside. They can have whatever food they need, but then they're on their own."

"That's ..." Amalia's brow furrowed, "Should we disguise ourselves?"

"I don't feel like it. I'm exhausted. Tell them if they cause problems or have issue with me, I will eat them. We're absolutely not caring for any captives beyond today, understand?"

Monsters were disliked. Yet Slimes weren't normally feared. Rozalin's comparatively large size would work against her and likely cause anxiety, but she figured Amalia could just vouch for her. And truthfully, she wasn't sure how long she planned on staying in this location after all this nonsense. After a few more goals were met, she'd move. There had been too much chaos here.

And so, the two descended the grass slope. As they got closer to the dwindling bonfire, the illumination from it and the moon let several of the anxious prisoners see Amalia's figure, with Rozalin bringing up the rear. They were visibly confused.

It was quite the complicated situation. Their dull eyes took on a small spark of hope.

Rozalin sat by the campfire, munching on a discarded fruit similar to a gourd. It was good to get the taste of people out of her 'mouth'. Or rather, off her mind.

Amalia explained and discussed with the captives, informing them of what had transpired. Several details had been smoothed over or left out, but the overall picture was painted. Their captors were dead. They were free to escape now.

The two child prisoners were overjoyed, a young boy and girl around 10 years of age. Their mother was present. She hugged them both and wept.

One of the women just sat on the ground, giving off a derisive chuckle. The third woman held panic, doubt, and relief on her face. 'Escape' was not a straightforward matter for these two, it seemed. 

The young boy pointed towards Rozalin, who was now relaxing by the fire and laying on a split-log bench lazily. It was only natural to inquire about what had happened. After all, a teenage girl showing up and saying all those men had been 'disposed of', as the girl had phrased it? It made little sense. 

"That's Rozalin. She's the one who saved you."

From a distance, Rozalin mentally snorted, " 'Saved' my squishy, pink ass! You five are none of my concern. I didn't nearly die just for you lot!"

Not that she would freely voice her thoughts.

Several sets of eyes were directed her way. Amalia followed up with an explanation, but it did little to assuage the jittery group's fears. After all, 15 armed men had disappeared. Didn't that mean the two before them were stronger than 15 armed men? It felt like a dream.

After a long amount of coaxing and some silly theatrics, the five captives agreed to Amalia's proposed plan. They'd rest a few hours within the bandit's cave, then receive an escort close to town before ultimately parting ways.

But not before a small piece of advice from Amalia.

"Roz told me it was a bad idea to get involved with people. I had asked her to help you all anyway. So if any of you try to make problems for Roz, I won't forgive you."

The young girl said it with a smile on her face and a small chill in the air. It was a jovial tone to the ears, yet that smile flickering beneath the moonlight seemed terribly artificial.

The few women and children still in the cage could only look at each other in disbelief, all more or less thinking the same thing.

'We're far from town and you killed those men. Do you seriously think we want to start trouble with you?!' 

They quickly found themselves agreeing to the young woman's demands. Short of an inquisitor squad visiting them, they didn't plan on leaking a single detail about their strange saviors. After all, other than a few quirks, their 'heroes' were still offering more assistance than they could ever hope for. Even if one seemed a bit unhinged and the other was a monster.

The group was quickly corralled into the cave, where beds and some food were indeed present. They were instructed to stay in the first room near the entrance, and the main door was barricaded from the inside. Rozalin insisted she explore further in, while Amalia kept watch near the door. If there was any danger still afoot further in, the Slime-woman intended to eat it before unexpected problems arose.

Rozalin sloshed forward on the dirt floors, slowly scoping the cave out. It was a bit deeper than expected but otherwise unremarkable. A few magic torches were sparsely placed at the junctions. She came to the end of a hallway.

At the end of this hallway was a door. And beyond that door came a muffled noise. And from that noise came a realization.

Rozalin threw down a Domain anchor, silently examining the room. There was someone inside. 

The fuzzy image revealed a room with a single bed, table, a few bookshelves, a large fur rug made from an unknown beast's pelt. Atop that bulky table was a figure—chained directly to it. It appeared to be a woman or child.

Rozalin sighed internally. She didn't particularly care to deal with yet another person. Having Amalia explain things was becoming bothersome. Dealing with strangers who were slow to adapt to the situation presented before them was time-consuming.

Amalia was called to the scene after a moment, as the two discussed how to approach the last captive. It was curious that someone was tied to a table and not a bed. There was little point speculating, so Rozalin finally decided to just ask the person in question.

The door creaked open slowly, Amalia poking her head inside, "Hellooo~?"

The noise stopped, then resumed with greater intensity.

"Let's just go in already," Rozalin grumbled, bounding in to get a better view.

"Hello? Are you alright?" came Amalia's voice, who finally moved in further. There was a small magic torch on the desk, still active and casting light. Rather than combustion, it produced light from magic. It was dimming, as it hadn't been charged recently. No doubt due to its deceased owner.

Yet that light was enough to see the sight before them.

Laying atop the table was a svelte, naked young woman. Her arms and legs were thin, held in place by metal clamps. She had a modest bust, and her hair fanned down to her waist across the table, with bits hanging off the edge. Her skin was a light bronze in color, with flecks of gold oddly present. Yet, her strangest physical feature was the dark, mossy coloration of her hair.

More concerning than all of that, a dark-blue dagger was piercing the chest of the slender woman. Her mouth remained bound and gagged.

Amalia was immediately alarmed. Rozalin's reaction was much more tame. She simply thought to herself, 'Oh, that's what that shape was.' 

While the Slime pondered the visibility of things in her Domain and how to improve its clarity, Amalia yelped and rushed to the girl.

"Miss! Th-there's a dagger in you!"

Having gained the ability to make tendrils more easily, Rozalin smacked herself in the 'face' at her companion's obvious exclamation.

'Stop panicking Amalia. If she were going to die from that dagger it would've happened already. It's been at least an hour since someone was in this room. Address her, then explain your purpose. Then come the bindings ...' 

Amalia stammered for a second over the Link, before turning back towards the impaled figure. Then she paused.

"W-Wait, an ... an elf?"

Rozalin perked up at the words spilled from Amalia's mouth.

Amalia continued, "Th-then this black dagger is ... Cold Iron? Why would—oh no. I-I should take this off first. Miss, nod if you can understand me."

The squirming captive stopped her movement, before nodding once.

"Those men have been taken care of. I'm going to undo your bindings. We need to get you healing."

Amalia reached for the gag around the woman's mouth, finally tearing it free.

A raspy noise came forth, "Wah-her."

There was a lisp buried further by an accent, but the intent was understood. Amalia fetched a nearby bowl and created some water. The woman's wrists were unshackled, and she sat up with the dagger still in her chest.

Shaky hands gulped the fluid down. Amalia stood awkwardly from the side, giving the woman some room. Rozalin was at guard, ready to blast this stranger with numerous pellets of Slime should she prove hostile.

Amalia spoke, "A-Are you alright, Miss?"

The stranger heaved, before finally seeming to recover.

"Cah, allh." 

She pointed to the inside of her mouth. It was at this point the slime duo realized something. The woman's tongue had been cut out. And she was missing her thumbs.

"Roz!" Amalia squeaked, "C-Can we heal this poor girl?"

Amalia's verbal outburst caused the still-bound woman to look around the room in confusion. Meanwhile, Rozalin looked up at the woman from the shadowy floor.

'Amalia, why would an elf be bound in a cave with no thumbs, no tongue, and a dagger in her chest?' she asked.

Rozalin didn't know much about Elves, but she had gathered enough over the few months since she'd been dropped into this world. Elves typically lived in the far north and were known as vicious, efficient fighters that could live for centuries. They were also very not-human, and a bit more durable to boot.

Amalia quietly considered the question, 'That's ... she's probably a mage of some sort? I think? I mean, without a tongue or fingers, she can't invoke spells well. They may have just been torturing her, but it looks like they were trying to extract her briarheart.'

Briarheart? That word stuck in Rozalin's mind. She had numerous questions.

Their new acquaintance was not privy to their conversation, so she instead looked at Amalia as if she were addle-minded. She continued thirstily sipping at her bowl of water, dagger still protruding. Her nonchalance about the protrusion was almost disturbing.

Amalia continued, 'I'm sorry, I don't know much about Elves. We'd have to ask her, but her talking to us seems unlikely with, uhm, ... y'know.'

Rozalin's Core sparkled with curiosity. Elves were not something that existed on Earth. While there had been countless and varied depictions of the creatures, this was supposedly the real thing in front of her. If nothing else, information on Elves would be good to have. Perhaps they were a bit more welcoming towards Slimes? A doubtful hope.

A long, clumsy conversation ensued. Highlights among said conversation were a half-beastkin trying to explain to a mute elf how she could mentally speak with a ball of ooze. When the elf girl noticed said ball of ooze, she hissed brokenly in a strange language and attempted to back away while her legs were still cuffed. This, of course, did not work well.

In conclusion, Elves did not like monsters any more than humans.

As Rozalin continued to examine the slender creature in front of her, something struck her.

'Amalia, I have an idea.'

The girl turned toward Rozalin, anxiety filling her chest. Whenever those words had been uttered in the past, it had rarely ended well for the beastkin girl. One might go so far as to say it was almost assuredly a disaster.

Rozalin spoke, 'A magic user, you said? Interesting. I think I may have found a solution to one of my problems.'

Rozalin sat there, muttering to herself while twitching and jiggling happily. She began rambling about durability, knives, longevity, magic, and something about filling positions. She was soon off in her own little world, planning this and that with glee. 

Amalia could only turn towards the oblivious elven girl, pity filling her eyes. The elf stared back at her warily, confused at these two's odd demeanor and repeated silence. It was then that Amalia said a small prayer in her heart.

For the both of them.