Slime Quest: Demonic Gambit

Fear is the unknown. The uncertainty of what lies ahead, the dark spaces where shadows dance and whispers linger. For me, fear was the echo of a life left behind and a new one uncertain and slippery. Fear isn't the specter of death, nor the shame of failure. Fear is not knowing why I'm here or what I'm supposed to do. Fear is... well, being a slime. A tiny, squishy thing, just waiting to be stomped on or squished under the boot of some overeager adventurer.

The morning light filtered through the dense canopy, casting dappled patterns on the forest floor. Adventurers, their armor clinking with every step, stalked through the underbrush. Their movements were precise, practiced—a predator's patience.

There were a few of them—five, if I counted correctly. The leader stood out immediately. A tall, broad-shouldered man with a scar running diagonally across his face, splitting his thick beard. His armor was practical and worn, the kind that said, I survive because I know what I'm doing, not because it's shiny. A heavy broadsword rested on his back, and his sharp eyes scanned the forest with the efficiency of a predator. Behind him, his team seemed less composed.

The thin guy behind the leader, for instance, was jittery, shifting his weight from foot to foot, clearly not used to the forest's oppressive silence. His hands clenched around his sword as if hoping it would magically make him braver. His face was youthful, still soft, still unsure.

"Hey newbie, go kill that slime near the flower bush," the leader called out, his voice clear and sharp, like a whip cracking through the tension.

"Yes, sir!" The young one jumped to action, sword in hand, but there was something off about his movements—too hesitant, too eager to prove himself.

"You sure about this?" a third adventurer asked, a short woman with a hawk-like gaze, her hand resting lightly on the bow slung across her back. Her tone was teasing, but there was a sharpness behind it that hinted she knew exactly what they were getting into.

"Let him have his first taste of action," the leader replied, his eyes never leaving the path ahead. "Every adventurer has to start somewhere."

"Yeah, and we wouldn't want him to screw up later," the second man added, a grin creeping onto his lips. His armor was even more worn than the leader's—clearly someone who'd seen more than his fair share of fights.

As the newbie approached the spot where I rested, I heard a murmur between the others.

"I hear slimes cores are a great source of mana," the bow-woman said quietly, eyes narrowed as she kept watch. "The alchemists will pay well for them."

"Right," the leader added, his voice low and thoughtful. "Not only that, but the big ones have unique properties—some even absorb traits from the things they consume."

The second man, who hadn't stopped grinning, leaned in. "You mean like... they get stronger, faster, tougher the more they eat?"

"Exactly," the leader confirmed. "And they're surprisingly adaptable. Some of them can even take on skills. It's why we're after them. A slime can be a lot more than just... slime."

I froze for a second. Wait. Did he just say—?

A small sliver of fear curled in my chest. Am I— I immediately swerved my gelatinous body to dodge. My instincts were screaming at me now. No way am I letting these idiots turn me into some kind of monster.

The newbie, unaware of my thoughts, swung his sword, but I was too fast. The blade missed me by a hair's breadth.

Why did I have to be a slime?

The leader glanced over his shoulder, his sharp gaze still focused ahead. "Don't let it get away. Capture it. We're not just here for the kill."

I could hear the frustration in the newbie's voice. "It's just a slime! Why are we chasing this one? It's nothing special."

"Because this one might be," the leader replied cryptically, his gaze flicking back to the rest of the group. "Keep your eyes open. Some slimes—especially the ones with unique traits—are worth much more than their weight in gold."

I darted deeper into the forest, my body jiggling with every movement, slipping over rocks and roots. The newbie was too slow. I was already far ahead, but I could hear him crashing through the brush behind me, sword swishing through the air. My heart raced, but I had no choice but to keep moving.

This is it. This is where I die, in some nameless corner of a forest, taken down by a terrified kid who can't tell the difference between a slime and a real threat.

I could hear his ragged breath behind me, too close now. I'd lost the advantage. The sound of his sword slicing through the air was right there, too close. Then—nothing. The forest was silent.

And that's when I felt it: a strange pull. The ground beneath me felt... different. Looser. The trees, the brush—everything seemed to be guiding me somewhere. The faintest glow shone in the distance, drawing me toward it.

I couldn't explain why, but I couldn't ignore it either.

I moved toward it, knowing I had no other choice.

The ground beneath me gave way, and I tumbled forward into a hidden cave. I landed with a wet slap, disoriented. The air here was thick, heavy—like it was pressing down on me. An electric hum buzzed in the air, crackling with an unsettling energy. I lay still for a moment, gathering my bearings, when I heard it.

A voice—low, rasping, and impossible to ignore.

"So, a wandering soul finds its way into my prison," the voice crooned. It wasn't in my ears; it was in my mind. The words pulsed with a strange pressure. "I can sense your confusion, your fear. Perhaps I can offer you a way out—fulfill your wish."

I tried to speak, but no sound came out. Instead, a thought burst into my mind, carried on some strange, unseen current. What are you?

The figure chuckled again, and I felt its presence grow more intense. "The better question, little one, is what you are. A monster? A mistake? Or something more?"

I recoiled, my gelatinous body trembling. I—I don't know. The thought felt weak, unsure.

"Then perhaps I can help." The figure's voice was smooth, almost coaxing. "You are lost, confused. But even the smallest creatures can shape destiny. I can grant you the power to escape this pitiful existence and fulfill your wish."

I felt a chill in the air around the figure. The temperature dropped. The ground beneath me hummed with an energy I couldn't understand. A strange, acrid smell lingered in the air, but I couldn't tell if it was the figure itself or something else in the cave. Either way, it felt like danger.

My thoughts stuttered. Despite the coldness in the air, my gelatinous form quivered. The offer sounded so simple, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being played. What was the price?

"Decide quickly, little one," the demon whispered, its voice curling like smoke around my thoughts. "Because your time is running out. And so is mine."

I froze, every instinct screaming at me. What was I supposed to do? What was this creature? And why me?