The forest seemed quieter than usual when Luminus's party returned. The goblins who had stayed behind rushed to greet them, relief and curiosity mixing in their eyes. Children tugged at cloaks, eager to know what the outside world was like, while warriors stood stiffly, waiting for their leader's report.
"We went beyond the trees," Kairn said proudly, "and saw lands that stretch farther than you can imagine. Fields, roads, a town in the distance…"
The goblins murmured, wide-eyed. For them, the forest was all they had ever known.
But Mira's voice broke the awe. "We also met humans. Adventurers."
The mood shifted instantly. Tension ran through the crowd like a drawn bowstring.
"Did they attack?" one asked.
"No," Luminus answered, stepping forward. His body pulsed with a soft light, steady and calm. "They were cautious, suspicious… but they left without drawing blood. Still, it won't stay that way forever."
The crowd fell silent. Everyone knew what he meant.
"They will come back," Luminus continued. "Some may come peacefully. Others may come to hunt." He paused, letting the words settle. "Which is why we must grow stronger—not just in weapons, but in heart, in unity. If we want a future, we must build one with our own hands."
The goblins nodded, resolve hardening in their faces. For the first time, they were not just surviving—they were preparing for something greater.
That night, as the village fires flickered, Luminus sat with Rugo on the hill overlooking the huts. The wolf's silver eyes reflected the moonlight.
"You've seen humans before," Luminus said. "What do you think?"
Rugo rumbled low. "Hunters. Always hunters. They look at the forest and see prey. But…" He hesitated, surprising Luminus. "Those ones today… they didn't strike. That means not all of them are the same."
Luminus let the thought linger. "Maybe so. But we can't gamble the lives of our people on a 'maybe.'"
The wolf nodded in agreement.
For the first time since his reincarnation, Luminus felt the weight of leadership pressing heavier than ever. Protecting the village was no longer enough. If humans began to notice them, a single settlement of goblins and wolves would not survive long.
He would need alliances. Knowledge. Power.
Meanwhile, beyond the forest…
The adventurers' boots struck the dirt road in weary rhythm. The group had left the grove behind, but their minds were still entangled in it.
"Are we just going to pretend that didn't happen?" the dagger-boy, Kess, snapped. His voice was sharp, more from fear than anger.
The archer, Len, shrugged uneasily. "What do you want me to say? A slime talked to us. I still don't believe it, and I was there."
"It wasn't just the slime," said the staff-girl, Elira. Her grip on her staff was tight. "The goblins were different. Their eyes weren't… wild. They looked at us like equals. I could feel it."
Kess spat into the dirt. "Equals? They're monsters. Monsters don't get to be equals."
The fourth adventurer, a quiet shield-bearer named Dorn, finally spoke. "Whether you believe it or not doesn't matter. What matters is the guild will want to know. And when they know, others will come. Stronger ones."
The group fell silent.
By the time they reached the town of Brindel, the sun was setting, painting the sky with fire. The gates loomed tall, torches flaring, and guards waved them through with lazy nods.
But inside the Adventurers' Guild, laziness had no place. The hall bustled with voices, the clatter of mugs, the scrape of steel against scabbards. At the counter, the guild receptionist—a sharp-eyed woman named Serah—looked up as they approached.
"You're back," she said. "Report?"
The adventurers exchanged uneasy glances. Finally, Elira stepped forward.
"We… encountered something unusual. A slime. But it could talk."
The hall went quiet around them. Adventurers nearby turned their heads, ears pricking.
Serah raised an eyebrow. "A talking slime? Do you expect me to record fairy tales?"
"It wasn't a fairy tale," Elira pressed, her voice fierce. "It spoke to us. It led goblins that were organized—calm. They weren't feral. They were different."
Serah studied her, weighing her words.
"A slime… leading goblins?" she muttered. "That's… not unheard of, but speaking? That's new." She tapped her quill against the ledger. "Very well. I'll record it as a sighting. But be warned—if word spreads, this will attract attention. Dangerous attention."
Elira nodded grimly. She already knew.
Behind her, Kess muttered, "Good. Let them come. Then we'll see what kind of monster thinks it can play at being human."
Back in the forest…
Days passed. Training intensified. Kairn drilled the goblin warriors until their arms ached, while Tarin led hunting parties farther afield. Mira taught herbs and healing to younglings, insisting that every hand could save a life.
And Luminus… Luminus experimented. His strange slime-body allowed him to devour materials, analyze them, and sometimes reproduce their properties. Stones hardened his form. Herbs taught him scents. Even wolf-fur, consumed in small strands, gave him greater understanding of beastly instincts.
Each discovery made him feel both powerful and uneasy. Just how far can this body go?
One night, as he absorbed the faint glow of a firefly, a thought struck him: If humans come to fight, can I truly protect everyone? Or will I need to become something far more dangerous than they can imagine?
He didn't share the thought with anyone. Not yet.
But rumors travel faster than any flame.
In Brindel's taverns, adventurers whispered of the "Slime King." Some laughed, calling it nonsense. Others sharpened their blades, hungry for the coin or fame such a kill might bring.
In the guild halls of larger cities, messengers carried reports of an unusual monster gathering allies. The words "intelligent slime" and "organized goblins" made their way into the hands of nobles, merchants, and even darker forces lurking in shadows.
And in the depths of the forest, Luminus felt a shift, as though the world itself had turned its eyes upon him.
The first ripple of a tide that would not be stopped.