Training as a Slime (42)

As dawn embraced the awakening critters and avians, the sun casted its inaugural rays upon the training school. A diverse assembly of seniors, emerging from various halls, embarked on their day with a resolute purpose guiding their endeavors. Enthused by their responsibility to craft meals that nurtures mind, body, and soul, they treaded towards the kitchen despite weariness, eagerly anticipating the authoritative cues from the commanding chef.

Instead, they encountered an unexpected yet familiar spectacle: their commander wholly absorbed in her own world of culinary mastery, contrasted with a novice first-year trainee peacefully shrouded in profound slumber. Accustomed to such scenarios, the apprentices orchestrated their movements, gracefully navigating around Cori, choreographing their movements with regimental precision to craft the morning's spread— a medley of juices, milk, and delectable chicken soup noodles for the hungry masses at the mess.

As the army of apprentices toiled in clockwork fashion, a gentle breeze, akin to a whispered secret, found its way into the warm bustling kitchen. A collective hush befell them, their focus momentarily diverted, as the sacred aura of the holy priest manifested amidst the powdery dance of stretched noodles and the rhythmic symphony of busy crockeries. The air seemed to carry with it a sense of reverence, accentuating the sacredness of untimely guest.

In this momentary pause, a palpable connection blossomed between the earthly tasks at hand and the divine presence gracing the space. Hearts fluttered like butterflies, each beat drummed with shared anticipation of the holy figure's benevolent gaze upon them. In a moment that shattered the serene admiration, a trainee stepped forward, breaking the silence, and offered a crisp salute to the revered holy fae his due respect, "Good morning, High Priest!" A harmonious echo resounded through the kitchen as the remaining apprentices joined in, their voices blending into a unified chorus of morning salutations.

Acknowledging with a solemn nod, Marvyn gracefully made his way toward the kitchen, accompanied by the twin butlers. The culinary santuary, momentarily disrupted by his presence, awkwardly readjusted to the routine hum of activities. Amidst this subtle transition, a few trainees, ensnared in the gaze of the distinguished figure, could not help but flushed with shyness, revealing their innocence as composure escaped them. As they traversed, the twins experienced a comforting sense of relief, their earlier apprehensions assuaged by the sight of the monster peacefully slumbering. With a commanding wave of his sacred staff, the High Priest initiated a holy formation, causing Cori and his backpack to elegantly ascend in a gentle levitation. With a poised crouch, the venerable fae conveyed to one of the butlers, imparting the news that the distinguished guest would join him on the journey to the temple. Sensing the opportune moment, the vigilant twins promptly exited the kitchen, their designated mission well-understood: to disseminate the revised agenda to the duchess concerning Cori's new itinerary.

Silently departing from the bustling kitchen, Marvyn left in a hushed departure, and in the wake of his exit, the trainees erupted into joyous squeals, their exuberant voices resonating through the now-vibrant culinary space. The High Priest, with a proud smile gracing his countenance, reveled in the timeless allure of his charming ways, pleased that the essence of his charisma had not waned despite the passage of time. Embarking on his journey to the temple, a buoyant and almost childlike skip suffused his every step with joy, oblivious to the guest slowly stirring from his sleep. As Cori heightened his awareness of the surroundings, an unmistakable sense of déjà vu overcame him. He could not shake the feeling that the familiar narrative of a kidnapping was unfolding once more. Contemplating the agenda of the kidnapper, he found himself silently immersed in an inquiry, "What does he want?" The priest, as if attuned to Cori's currents of thought, executed a dramatic 180-degree swivel of his head, sending a ripple of disquiet through Cori's imaginary heart. The startled slime reacted with a gasp of realisation, "I almost died of a heart attack!" Continuing Cori's train of thoughts with an eerie accuracy, the high fae whispered with a wide grimace on his face, "Not so soon." In the grip of paralyzing fear, Cori managed to muster a trembling squeak, "What do you mean?"

With a hearty laugh, Marvyn readjusted his head to its rightful position and chuckled, "Not so soon, at least until we reach the temple!" Cori's gelatinous gut sank as the realization dawned upon him—his stroke of bad luck had thrust him into an encounter with a potentially murderous priest. Despite this awareness, an unknown fear paralyzed him, rendering him as helpless as a lamb heading to the slaughterhouse.

"Do you know why there are no trainees in Hall 777? That's because every trainee was a sacrifice for a greater good," teased Marvyn, watching as a shadow of distress darkened Cori's face. Cori's eyes begun to redden with tears, sorry for his plight in this unfortunate twist of event. In a fleeting twist of emotions, Marvyn experienced a spiteful moment of joy, which was quickly supplanted by a tinge of guilt as he witnessed the tears streaming down Cori's face. Unfazed and resolute, with a determination to extract every drop of holy shield's essence, the pope meticulously collected Cori's tears, storing them in translucent flasks that hovered around him. "Oh my god, he's collecting my fluid as a memento. How sick is he!" Cori pondered with a sense of disbelief and horror. In a fervent attempt to restore his honor, Marvyn burst out, "I'm merely extracting the essence of the holy shield from you! No one is intent on murdering you. We were just a considerable distance from the temple, stop your delulu, we'll be arriving soon!" Marvyn, intimately acquainted with the profound injustice of losing his beloved treasure, found the excruciating weight of that loss digging into his heart every time Cori appeared before him. As Cori's well-being improved, the duo finally reached the entrance of the sacred ivory temple. Bathed in the soft sunlight, the intricately designed building glowed, emanating its divine presence as an holy abode. "Now, allow me to give you a humble house tour," Marvyn beamed with a warm smile, gently lowering the slightly golden slime to the ground.