As they ventured deeper, they finally reached the second level of the cave.
And it was worse.
Way worse.
Just like the Midwife warned, the slime started glowing more—faint, pulsing patches lining the walls and ceiling like sickly neon veins. It gave the whole place a disturbing alien glow, like the inside of a monster's colon.
More destroyed slimes littered the ground, but these were bigger now—some the size of Chestelle's legs stacked together like some sort of nightmare slime hotdog.
There was even a puddle.
A single, unmoving puddle of dark, glistening slime.
None of it made sense. The Midwife specifically said things didn't get this gooey until level three.
So why the hell was this happening now?
Something was definitely off.
And Finn, naturally, hated it.
Which is exactly why he… walked right toward the puddle.
Majestria frowned. Chestelle cocked her head. Even Lickthorn stopped rubbing her thighs to watch.
