Book 1
Chapter 14: The Slime Wars – The Aftermath & The New Rank
The Guild's Selective Blindness
The grimy common hall of The Kokoro Adventurer's Guild had transformed into a 'shimmering monument to accidental triumph'.
It was a bizarre kaleidoscope of green and gold.
Lanterns, usually fueled by arcane crystals, now glowed with a sickly green luminescence from jars filled with solidified slime residue.
Banners, hastily torn from old tapestries, were woven with shimmering, almost iridescent slime strands.
The centerpiece of the main table was a suspiciously jiggling, iridescent blob of congealed goo, adorned with a tiny, ill-fitting Guildmaster's hat.
At the head table, sat Ken Hanzori.
He perched atop a literal, shimmering pile of crisply folded Quid—the perfectly origami-ed remains of the Mythical-Class Slime Overlord.
Ken was grinning like he'd personally invented heroism. His new "Platinum Medal of Fiscal Responsibility" glinted ostentatiously, dangling around his neck.
It clinked against his equally shiny, newly minted Guild badge: "KEN HANORI – RANK: DIAMOND – (SLIME-BANE EXTRAORDINAIRE)"
It had taken the Guildmasters approximately three seconds flat to promote him past Bronze, Silver, Gold, and Platinum.
A dizzying ascent that left even the most jaded veterans staring into their lukewarm ale with slack-jawed disbelief.
Ken Hanzori was now technically higher ranked than most of the Guildmasters themselves.
"To our newest Diamond-rank adventurer!" boomed Guildmaster Hojo, a portly man whose perpetually flushed face suggested a long-standing affair with fermented beverages. He raised a goblet that shimmered with faint slime-taint.
"A man who turns sewers into profit margins! Who transmutes putridity into prosperity! To Hanzori the Slimebane!"
The crowd, fueled by cheap ale and the promise of more Guild-sponsored ramen, erupted in thunderous cheers.
Ken, misunderstanding the assignment entirely, raised a fork, still trying to pick at a bit of origami Quid stuck to his medal.
"I didn't do much, really. Just sneezed! And then all this money showed up. It's like magic, right?" He beamed, utterly oblivious.
The crowd cheered louder, as if 'incompetence' had just been rebranded as 'divine strategy'.
Narutama, slumped miserably at the far end of the table, groaned so deeply it was more of a guttural resonance.
His skin pulsed an eerie, insistent green, radiating enough glow to read a small print novel in the dark.
His usually neat hair had taken on a distinctly gelatinous texture, sticking up in glowing, quivering spikes. His left elbow kept involuntarily dripping a faintly sparkling, viscous fluid onto the Guild floor.
He looked less like a warrior and more like a rejected sci-fi prop.
No one acknowledged this. Not a single soul. They were too busy cheering for Ken.
---
Narutama's "Promotion"
When the drunken fanfare finally died down to a mere celebratory hum, Brenda slid a newly printed scroll toward Narutama with the enthusiasm of someone handing over a death sentence.
The parchment smelled faintly of vinegar and poor life choices.
"Sanata," she droned, not bothering to correct herself.
"You're being promoted… technically. After the… incident."
Narutama squinted at the scroll, the luminous green tint of his eyes making it hard to focus.
"COPPER-RANK ADVENTURER – NARUTAMA SANATA
Specialization: Slime-Related Hazard Containment & Bioluminescent Biohazard Uniform: See attached (Note: Dry-cleaning not covered. Decontamination recommended. Do not store near flammables or small children.)"
The "uniform" was a modified rain poncho made of a strangely porous, dull grey material. It was adorned with an alarming number of extra straps, buckles, and what looked like industrial-grade garbage bags stitched onto the sleeves.
Ken, effortlessly pristine and radiating confidence, peered over Narutama's shoulder, his eyes wide.
"Look! They gave you pockets! And… a hood! For stealth! And… is that a built-in hazardous mask?"
Narutama's eye twitched so violently his entire head seemed to vibrate with stored kinetic energy. His glowing elbow dripped. "They gave me quarantine gear, Ken. I look like a disgruntled deep-sea diver who got lost in a paintball factory."
---
The Sparkling "Cure"
Later that night, in the Guild's drafty barracks, the distant sounds of revelry barely penetrated the gloom.
Ken, oblivious to Narutama's mounting despair, unveiled his latest act of accidental terrorism: a bubbling, gold-infused potion he'd "borrowed" from the alchemy lab's deepest vault.
It glowed with a cheerful, if somewhat unsettling, golden light.
"Ta-da! A Hanzori Original™!" He swirled the vial, which emitted a cheerful ding like a tiny cash register, followed by a faint, ethereal whisper of "Terms and conditions apply." "Guaranteed to cure all slime-based ailments! Probably! I think it has extra vitamins!"
Narutama, now fully bioluminescent and gently pulsating like a human lava lamp, eyed it with profound suspicion.
"What's in it, besides regret?"
"Mone, mostly. Also… sparkles?" Ken frowned, sniffing the potion.
"And it's supposed to be mint-flavored, but it smells a bit like old pennies and triumph. Bottoms up!"
Against every ounce of his samurai judgment, his desperate desire for normalcy won out. Narutama pinched his nose and chugged the entire vial.
For a moment, nothing happened. The barracks remained dim, Narutama remained a glowstick.
Then his boils began to shimmer. They started humming, a low, resonant thrum that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards.
And then, with a sound like a thousand tiny wind chimes spontaneously combusting, they erupted into a dazzling, synchronized fireworks display.
Casting prismatic, multi-colored light across the grimy barrack walls.
Each boil became a miniature nebula of light and glitter.
Narutama stared at his arms, now a living disco ball, his body emitting a continuous, faint chorus of tinkling.
"Ken."His voice was flat, laced with a terrifying calm.
Ken clapped his hands together, utterly delighted.
"It's working! You're magnificent! We should charge admission!"
"I'M A GLOWSTICK, KEN! A FABULOUS, FIREWORKS-EMITTING GLOWSTICK! I can't fight like this!"
"A fashionable glowstick!" Ken beamed, oblivious.
"You're welcome! Now, let's see if I can bottle that glow for emergency lanterns… hold still!" Ken, already bottling the glow: "We could sell tickets! Or lanterns! Or—"
---
The Ledger's Warning
As Narutama's exasperated curses echoed through the Guild barracks, punctuated by intermittent tinkles and pops of light, Brenda opened a hidden ledger beneath her counter.
It was a heavy, ancient tome, its pages thick with forgotten transactions and impossible debts.
The page for "Hanzori, K." now shimmered with fresh, ominous entries.
Below his ever-increasing balance (still reading ∞ (PENDING DIVINE AUDIT & REPAYMENT SCHEDULE TBD)), there were new lines:
LOAN INTEREST ACCRUED: 1.3% (DAILY) COLLATERAL WITHDRAWN: 2 MEMORIES (MINOR)
She glanced across the bustling Guild hall, past the last lingering revelers, towards Ken, who was cheerfully attempting to bottle Narutama's incandescent glow.
She sighed, a deep, weary sound that spoke of cosmic exhaustion, and stamped the page with a final, heavy seal:
"WARNING: REPOSSESSION IMMINENT. FINAL NOTICE."
---
Somewhere in the inky darkness beyond the city, a dull-feathered pegasus with surprisingly large, mournful eyes shuffled nervously.
A tiny, almost imperceptible sneeze ruffled his already disheveled mane. He let out a soft, mournful whinny that sounded like a sad trombone.
His gaze fixed intently on the faint, erratic green and gold glow emanating from the distant Guild Hall.
He could feel it – that something was definitely there.