The third was a Giant Rat.
The fourth was a Lizardman scout — small, young, separated from its pack.
The fifth was a Cave Bat that had been roosting in a hollow tree.
Each fight was a lesson.
Each fight was harder than the source material had ever suggested.
The rat was fast — faster than a slime should have been able to track, and it took me three attempts to pin it down, each miss costing me mass and energy.
The Lizardman had a crude stone knife and a rudimentary understanding of combat, and it used both, slashing at my body with a desperation that made it dangerous.
The bat was small but agile, and I spent twenty minutes chasing it through the canopy before I finally cornered it in a hollow.
Each absorption gave me something.
Steel Thread.
Sticky Thread.
Paralysis Resistance.
Venom Resistance.
Dark Vision — from the bat — that allowed me to perceive my surroundings in total darkness.
Poison Breath — from the Lizardman — a weak, rudimentary version, but an offensive capability I had lacked.
Five abilities.
Five fights.
Five near-death experiences that the anime would have compressed into a thirty-second training montage.
I lay on the forest floor, exhausted, my body flattened and thin, barely maintaining cohesion.
The sky above the canopy was lightening — dawn approaching, the stars fading, the first pale wash of grey on the eastern horizon.
I found herbs.
Absorbed them.
Healed.
Restored.
Then I bounced.
Back through the forest, past the boundary of Veldora’s aura, through the tunnel system, to the cave entrance.
See was there — kneeling at the entrance, her hands clasped in prayer, her head bowed.
She had not moved.
She had waited, exactly as instructed, naked and devoted and patient.
“My Lord — you have returned.” Her voice was thick with relief.
“I told you I would.
Get dressed.
Cover yourself.”
She blinked.
“My Lord?”
“Clothes.
Make some.
You are a mage, are you not?
Use your magic.
People might be coming.”
I did not explain further.
I did not need to.
Because I knew — from the knowledge I carried, from the story I had written and read and obsessed over — that a runaway princess was approaching this cave, and she was not alone, and the encounter that was about to happen was one I had been preparing for since the moment I opened my eyes in this world.
Elen.
The runaway princess.
Heading toward the Sealed Cave, following rumors of treasure, of ancient magic, of a power that could change the fate of nations.
In the original story, the slime protagonist had avoided her, had hidden, had let her pass without contact.
But I was not that slime.
I was a reader.
I knew what was coming.
I knew who she was, why she was here, and what she could become.
And I knew exactly what to do.
I hid behind a rock near the cave entrance, my body compressed into a crevice, my Dark Vision and sensory awareness trained on the approach path below.
See stood at the entrance, dressed now in a conjured mage’s robe — a long, dark garment that covered her body from neck to ankle, a wooden staff in her hand, her hair pulled back, her expression calm and composed.
She had made the clothes, of course.
She could have made them at any point during the week I had spent in the cave.
She could have clothed herself when she first woke.
But she had not.
She had walked naked through the forest, sat naked on the cliff edge, let me —
I filed that information away.
‘She is devoted.
Or she enjoys it.
Or both.
Either way, useful.’
The sound of footsteps.
Voices.
The crunch of boots on gravel, the clink of light armor, the low murmur of conversation.
Three figures emerged from the tree line.
Elen was in front.
I recognized her immediately — the silver-white hair, the delicate features, the way she moved with the careful, controlled grace of someone trained from birth to carry themselves with dignity.
She wore traveling clothes, practical and worn, a sword at her hip that she kept her hand near.
Her eyes were sharp, alert, scanning the cliff face and the cave entrance with the tactical awareness of someone who had been running for a long time and had learned to assess threats quickly.
Behind her, two men.
One was tall and broad-shouldered, carrying a heavy pack, his face open and friendly despite the tension in his posture.
The other was leaner, quicker, his eyes darting constantly to the shadows.
Mercenaries, or something close to it — hired swords, the kind of companions a runaway princess would gather when she needed protection without the resources of a royal household.
They stopped at the base of the cliff, looking up at the cave entrance.
Looking up at See.
“So,” Elen said, her voice carrying clearly in the morning air, “this is the cave.
Lady Sii — you are certain this is the place?”
Sii.
She had given a different name.
Smart.
A traveler’s name, a mage’s name, stripped of the cult associations that “See” carried.
“Indeed,” Sii responded, and her voice was steady, professional, the voice of a woman who knew how to present herself as an expert.
“The seal here is ancient.
Pre-dating the current era.
The magical signature matches the texts I have studied.”
“And the danger?
You said two men died here.”
Sii’s expression did not change.
“My previous companions.
They were careless.
The seal does not tolerate direct contact without wards.
One touched it.
The other—” She paused, and a flicker of genuine emotion crossed her face.
“He did not survive the encounter.”
Elen nodded slowly.
“And you believe this seal contains something valuable?
An artifact?
A weapon?”
“I believe it contains something powerful.
What that something is, I cannot say with certainty.
But the magicule density here is extraordinary.
Far beyond anything I have encountered in the Western Nations.”
Elen studied her for a moment.
“So it is because of you that I was able to track this location.
Your information led us here.”
“Indeed.
The seal’s magical interference prevents standard detection methods.
Without my research, this cave would have remained hidden indefinitely.” Sii tilted her head.
“Or do you think Lord Veldora would have been tracked by some other means?”
The name hit like a thunderclap.
Elen went white.
Her hand flew to her sword hilt, her body dropping into a half-crouch, her eyes wide with a terror so immediate and so profound that it transcended rational response.
“Lord Veldora?” she breathed.
“The Storm Dragon?
He is — he is here?”
Behind her, the two mercenaries stumbled.
The broad one’s legs buckled, and he caught himself against a tree trunk.
The lean one sat down.
Not by choice — his knees simply stopped working.
“N-no way,” the lean one stammered.
“The Storm Dragon?
The sealed dragon of the Jura Forest?
That’s — that’s a True Dragon — that’s—”
“I thought you said this was a treasure cave!” the broad one said, his voice cracking.
“You said artifacts!
You said—”
Sii raised a hand.
“Calm yourselves.
Lord Veldora is sealed.
He cannot—”
I bounced.
It was not a strategic entrance.
It was not a carefully timed reveal.
I simply bounced out of my hiding spot, a small blue slime arcing through the air and landing on a rock in front of them with a soft, wet ‘splorch’.
Everyone flinched.
Elen’s sword cleared the scabbard.
The broad mercenary fell over.
The lean one screamed.
Then they saw me.
“A S-SLIME!?”
‘Fuck…