Lucien wiped his brow, smearing a mixture of sweat, grime, and crushed grass. Exhaustion weighed heavy on him. Hours spent hunting Slimes across the plains had left his nerves frayed and his energy reserves critically low. He'd only paused long enough to wolf down a few bites of a sandwich, granting himself no real respite. Yet, when he summoned his panel again, the progress bar glared back at him: [23/50].
"Damn it..." Lucien muttered, chest heaving with ragged breaths. It seemed the system was determined to push him to his absolute limit. The sun had climbed to its zenith, beating down mercilessly, leaving him less than ten hours to complete the task. He had to be out of the plains by seven to make it home before the eight o'clock curfew.
A spark of realization ignited in his weary eyes. His level was now far beyond these lowly Slimes. His Psyche stat felt tangible, potent. Even a sharp glance seemed to make the gelatinous creatures flinch back. Using Telekinesis to lure them out one by one and then burning them was agonizingly slow.
He pushed himself upright, dusting off his worn clothes. Desperation hardened into resolve. Slime neural fibers were incredibly fine, practically intangible. But what if his newfound, amplified psychic power could bypass physical attacks entirely? Could he crush that fragile core with a thought, like snapping a brittle spider's thread?
He took a deep, steadying breath, forcing his aching muscles into motion, and resumed his search through the tall grass. Soon, near a small pool of water, he spotted a particularly tiny Slime, barely level 1, quivering timidly. A pang of unwelcome sympathy twisted in Lucien's gut.
He offered a silent "Sorry" to the insignificant creature. Closing his eyes, he focused his entire will. He visualized his psychic energy condensing into the finest, deadliest needle, aiming with lethal precision at the Slime's core---
Pop!
A faint, wet sound. The minuscule Slime simply... burst. Green goo splattered across the ground before Lucien could even register resistance. No struggle, no reaction. Just instant annihilation.
Congratulations! You have eliminated Slime: Fier
The notification flashed briefly, denying even the meager satisfaction of an experience point.
Staring at the rapidly dulling puddle of slime, a wave of bleak sadness washed over Lucien. This thing... wasn't it just like him not long ago? Small, fragile. Life or death decided in an instant by something infinitely stronger. The thought made his hand tighten reflexively on his dagger's hilt.
But in the next heartbeat, his heightened psychic senses screamed a sharp warning!
Glug... Glug-glug...
The placid water erupted! Dozens---easily thirty or more---larger, level 5+ Slimes surged from the pool like an enraged hive! They first clustered around the remains of their tiny kin, bouncing agitatedly. Then, countless unseen gazes snapped onto Lucien, standing barely ten meters away. A crushing tide of pure, chilling malice rolled over him.
Lucien's scalp prickled. Ice shot up his spine. Cold sweat instantly soaked through the back of his threadbare hoodie. Thirty! There was no way, with his current stamina, to crush that many cores individually! What now?! The shadow of death fell over him with terrifying clarity.
The furious Slimes gave him no time to strategize! They surged forward like a viscous green tide, splitting up, bouncing erratically, attempting to surround and engulf him completely from all sides!
Cornered, a desperate, almost insane idea exploded in Lucien's mind. He squeezed his eyes shut and poured every ounce of his newly acquired, barely controlled psychic power outward---not to kill, but to induce! To twist!
Huuuuummmm---!
An invisible wave of psychic force, like a boulder dropped into a pond, slammed into the leading wave of Slimes, carrying Lucien's desperate command: Frenzy! Attack each other!
The impossible happened.
The Slimes charging straight for Lucien jerked to a halt as if yanked by unseen reins. Then, in horrifying unison, they whirled, their forms seeming to flush with a violent crimson light , and launched themselves with savage ferocity at their utterly unprepared neighbors!
Consume! Fuse! Tear apart!
The planned execution of a lone human instantly devolved into a nightmarish orgy of Slime self-destruction! Viscous green fluid sprayed through the air. Gelatinous limbs were ripped away and absorbed in the chaotic melee. Shrill, ultrasonic shrieks---the death cries of simple oozes---filled the unnatural silence of the plains.
Lucien collapsed to his knees, vision swimming, darkness crowding the edges. Sweat poured down his face, soaking his collar. The immense mental strain felt like a thousand needles stabbing his brain, threatening to shatter his skull. He gritted his teeth, fighting to stay conscious, bloodshot eyes fixed on the horrific spectacle.
He watched the green forms dwindle, merging into fewer, larger, grotesquely misshapen amalgamations through their cannibalistic frenzy.
When only five or six massive, battle-scarred, and dangerously unstable Slime Titans remained, pulsating ominously, Lucien knew the endgame had arrived. With the last dregs of his strength, he fumbled in his pack, pulled out his final bottle of alcohol, and flicked his cheap lighter. A jet of roaring flame erupted, engulfing the weakened survivors in a final, cleansing inferno!
The fire greedily devoured the viscous bodies. The stench of burning slime filled the air. The Titans writhed and shrieked with renewed agony before finally succumbing, collapsing into bubbling, charred puddles of sludge.
Silence descended, heavy and profound.
Daily Quest:
-Eliminate 50 Slimes. 50/50-
-Quest Completed!-
Lucien couldn't hold on any longer. He crumpled onto his back, limbs utterly useless, chest heaving as he gasped for air. Utter exhaustion and the bone-deep relief of survival flooded through him. Then, like celebratory fireworks, a cascade of notifications exploded across his mental panel:
Congratulations! Level Up!
-Name: Lucien-
-Level: 12-
-Skill: Omni-Psychic-
-Quality: ??? → D-
-HP: 20-
-Psyche: 20-
-Intelligence: 29-
-Attack: 16-
-Agility: 11-
-Defense: 11-
-Skills: Telekinesis, Psychic Inducement-
-Items: Slime Mucus × 26-
Trembling fingers moved through the air, swiping to claim his reward.
Daily Quest:
-Eliminate 50 Slimes-
-Progress: 50/50-
Quest Completed! Reward Distributed. Additional Title Acquired:Slime Slayer.
Two heavy coins, noticeably larger than Krum pieces, materialized in his sweat-slicked palm. Bron! The smooth, cool metal, the substantial weight---it represented an unimaginable fortune! Lucien's heart hammered against his ribs, threatening to burst. He greedily traced the coins' contours before tucking them deep into his most secure pocket. Hope! This tangible weight was hope---for survival, for change!
Yet, even as euphoria washed over him, the newly acquired title caught his eye: Slime Slayer. What did it mean?
The cold, mechanical female voice provided the chilling answer: [When 50 Slimes are eliminated within an 8-hour period, the title 'Slime Slayer' is acquired. This title grants a passive skill: Aggro radius increased to 100 meters against all Slime-type entities. Highly efficient for subsequent Slime hunting.]
Increased aggro radius?! Attract Slime hatred?!
Lucien's triumphant grin froze, then turned into disbelief and outrage at possibly being mocked.
"What kind of twisted 'convenience' is this?! Is this system that father left me... mocking me?!" He was nearly driven crazy.
He had no time to dwell. His heightened level and Psyche stat granted him preternatural awareness. The moment the title took effect, he felt it---like a psychic beacon flaring to life. From every direction, within fifty meters and beyond, countless weak but intensely hostile presences snapped into focus, drawn inexorably towards him! Like sharks scenting blood, a dense wave of killing intent surged from the tall grass, stagnant puddles, even beneath the earth itself, converging rapidly on his position!
"Damn it all!" Lucien cursed, survival instinct overriding everything. He scrambled to his feet, dredging up the last reserves of his strength, and sprinted for his life towards the city gates! The city had powerful barrier. These low-level monsters couldn't breach them!
The area near the West Gate had thinned considerably. Witnesses saw only a blur of a ragged hoodie as a pale-faced boy hurtled towards the entrance, eyes wide with terror. Hot on his heels, like a living, viscous green tsunami, surged a horde of at least fifty Slimes of various shapes and sizes!
"Wha---?!"
"Holy shit! Look!"
"A Slime riot?!"
Guards and novice Awakened training nearby stared, dumbfounded, as the hoodied boy shot past the gate like a startled hare, gasping out a breathless "Sorry!" before vanishing into the city streets. The leaderless Slime horde, denied their target, slammed into the scattered crowds, pressing against it with mindless fury.
"Hey! You bastard!" Guards and trainees scrambled back, shouting curses after the vanished figure while hastily organizing a defense just inside the barrier.
Chaos ensued as they retreated fully inside the protective field. Amidst shouted orders, a Fire Affinity and a Wind Affinity managed a clumsy collaboration. Whirling winds scopped up roaring flames, forming a miniature firestorm that engulfed the Slimes massed at the gate. The acrid stench of burning slime filled the air as the green tide was swiftly reduced to ash. Elemental power remained the bane of Slimes.
Lucien, already lost in the crowd deeper within the city, mentally apologized profusely to the guards and trainees. Seeing the Slimes eradicated, he watched nervously as the guards began scanning the onlookers for the instigator. Heart still pounding, he pulled his hood lower, making himself as small and insignificant as possible, melting into the throng of curious citizens before slipping away unnoticed.
Moving swiftly through the city center, his increased Agility making his steps lighter and faster, Lucien finally reached his destination: the apothecary.
Vila's face soured like she'd swallowed a fly the moment he walked in. She flapped a dismissive hand.
"If you're here with that pocket scrap again, I won't---"
Her words died as a single Bron coin clattered onto the transaction tray. Vila's expression froze mid-sneer, surprise warring with deep suspicion.
"Hey! This isn't stolen, is it?! How does a gutter rat like you suddenly get your hands on this much coin?"
"Baron's in the Guard Corps, vouching for me," Lucien replied, keeping his tone level despite the internal alarm. He should have known flashing a Bron would raise flags, even for just one vial. "Have my coins ever been questionable before?"
"They'd better not be!" Vila snapped, turning to retrieve the distinctive blue vial and slapping it onto the counter beside twenty Krum coins in change. "Imagine the day I'm giving you change..." She muttered, unaware her own tone had softened slightly at the sight of real money.
Lucien had no desire to linger or argue. He pocketed the vial and the coins and left without another word.
A profound sense of lightness, almost giddiness, filled Lucien. It was only 4:21 PM. He had time. Time to buy some pork and flour in the East End, maybe even a few basic necessities. For the first time, he walked through the bustling city streets not hunched and hidden, but with his head up, actually looking.
The Central District was a world apart from the cramped, grimy East End. Orderly streets, carriages clattering down the central avenue, well-dressed citizens flowing along the sidewalks, oblivious to his presence. No street vendors cluttered the wide boulevards. Shopfronts boasted distinct character: bread displayed enticingly behind glass, filling the air with sweetness; a florist lounged beside a riot of colorful blooms spilling onto the pavement.
He moved with purpose, yet allowed himself to wander slowly, absorbing the sights and sounds. Was this what life felt like without the crushing weight of poverty? A simple shift in circumstance could make breathing so much easier.
Back in the East End, he visited his usual butcher and general store. The butcher, a mountain of a man walking with a pronounced limp, hinted at a past life battling monsters. He greeted Lucien with a gruff smile.
"Lucien! Must've landed some good salvage today, eh? Haven't seen you in a while."
"Yeah, Mr," Lucien replied, his smile genuine. The butcher was one of the few genuinely decent people in his life. "Could I get a pound of pork?"
"Comin' right up!" The butcher asked no probing questions about Lucien's sudden windfall or his ability to afford a full pound. He simply wrapped the meat.
Lucien picked up flour and some household essentials before hurrying home.
He went straight to Elinora's room. She was sitting up in bed, flipping through one of his father's old books. Lucien knew her strength rarely allowed her out of bed for long. Seeing him back so early, a faint smile touched her lips.
"You're home early."
"Yeah, look what I brought back too!" Lucien held up the bag with the pork and supplies.
Elinora's smile widened, though a flicker of concern remained in her eyes.
"Lucien... you didn't get this by doing anything... illegal, did you?"
"Your son's a law-abiding citizen, mother," Lucien reassured her gently. "Take your medicine first. I'll tell you all about it over dinner." He watched her drink the blue potion before heading to the kitchen.
He didn't see the shadow that deepened in Elinora's eyes as she stared at the empty vial after he left.
To celebrate his first day with power and the hope of a better life for both of them, Lucien prepared braised pork chops and fresh bread.
When dinner was ready, he went to wheel Elinora out, eager to share his incredible news. But he found her already deeply asleep, the medication's side effects pulling her under. With a sigh, Lucien placed a plate of food on her bedside table and quietly closed the door.
The kitchen hearth cast a dim, flickering light. Lucien ladled a generous portion of apple and red wine-braised pork chops into a bowl. On another plate, slices of bread toasted to a perfect golden crisp. Hours of exertion had left him ravenous.
He eagerly dipped a bread slice into the rich, savory sauce and took a huge bite. The flavor of the pork fat exploded in his mouth. He shoveled in chunks of meat between bites of bread, cheeks bulging. Before he'd even swallowed the last mouthful, he reached for another slice.
But his stomach, unaccustomed to such richness after years of deprivation, violently rebelled. A sharp, cramping pain seized his gut, forcing him to double over, arms wrapped around his middle.
Plop. Two tears hit the floor.
"Hah... Hah..." Lucien couldn't hold back the choked sob.
Baron and Viola would have been stunned if they see this scene. Before Baron awakened, the three of them were often targets for other Awakened children. They remembered Lucien, even as a small, skinny kid, shielding them with his own body when stones flew, while they cried. In their memories, Lucien never cried. He only gritted his teeth and forced himself back up whenever life tried to break him. Baron often recalled Lucien's words: A person's worth lies in their self-respect.
He wept silently for a long time, until the worst of the stomach cramps subsided. Sniffling, he wiped his face roughly with his sleeve, then gulped down several mouthfuls of cold water from a nearby cup. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he straightened up. Even with the lingering ache in his gut and tear tracks drying on his face, he picked up the spoon and bread again.
This time, he ate slowly, chewing deliberately, forcing himself to savor each small bite. Yet, the desperate, gnawing hunger to fill the void within him was overwhelming. That lean, hardened body, driven by years of want, stubbornly consumed every last morsel of the two large bowls of stew and all the bread.
---
-Lucien's Room
The dim glow of a kerosene lamp filled the small room. Lucien sat hunched over a worn copy of Beginner's Guide to Monsters. Stacks of other books---Introduction to Awakened Abilities, Monster Distribution Atlas---covered the small table. These were standard texts for Cocoon City Academy students.
After the Slime ordeal, Lucien knew both practical skill and theoretical knowledge were crucial. Much of the information, relating practical experience, had faded from his memory. He needed to relearn it fast.
He yearned to grow strong enough to protect Viola and Baron, not remain the burden waiting for their help. Baron was busy with Subjugation Corps entrance exams, Viola swamped with her own duties. He would tell them about his awakening soon, but only after he'd grown stronger.
As the night deepened, Lucien extinguished the lamp and collapsed onto his bed. Drifting off, one thought lingered: Tomorrow, I must go to the Academy. Ask teacher Sanny about late awakening...