The ashlands whispered of predators long before they revealed themselves. Zeke had begun to recognize the signs: the way vibrations rippled faintly through the soil, the shift in the scent of burning minerals, the silence that fell when smaller organisms scattered. Danger was a language, and his new body was learning how to read it.
He slithered across a slope of blackened stone, mana pulsing faintly within him. His body had grown with practice, swelling with the mana he accumulated. He could feel the weight of it now, every movement heavier, every stretch wider. It was both thrilling and frightening. He no longer felt like the pitiful scrap that had once barely devoured insects. He was still prey, yes—but larger prey, and one with fire and light flickering inside.
The vibrations came first. Heavy, deliberate, coordinated. Not the skitter of insects, not the tremble of salamanders. This was heavier. Closer.
Zeke froze, spreading himself low across the ash. His awareness pulsed outward, sensing through the grains of soot. Shapes approached—four, no, six—moving together, silent but for the tremors. Their pace was measured, their hunger palpable. Predators, hunting in a pack.
They crested the ridge, and his dread crystallized.
Ash-lions.
Their bodies rippled like shadowy panthers, but their manes smoldered faintly, embers glowing in the haze. Their eyes shone like coals, their breaths steaming against the air. Each step they took left faint scorch marks in the ash. Predators born of fire and soot, swift and merciless. And they had already spotted him.
Zeke tried to retreat, sliding back toward the fissure he had left behind. But the lions moved with eerie grace, fanning out, cutting him off. They circled, their movements practiced, their smoldering eyes never leaving his quivering form. The heat of their bodies washed over him, a reminder that even his fire would not save him now.
Panic surged. His body rippled, trembling. He tried to pulse light, to steady his form, but the glow only painted him brighter against the ashen ground. The lions growled low, their eyes narrowing. He had exposed himself. He was cornered.
The first lunged. Zeke shrieked silently as claws raked through his mass, scattering pieces of him across the ash. Agony tore through him, but instinct surged stronger. He lashed fire wildly, the ember inside him exploding outward. Flame burst against the lion's chest, scorching fur and ember-mane. The beast recoiled with a snarl, rolling in the ash to smother the blaze.
Another lion struck from the side, jaws snapping down on his edge. Teeth sank into his slime, piercing deep toward his core. He thrashed wildly, splitting part of his body in panic. The fragment tore free, dissolving as the lion shook it violently. Zeke quivered, the pain searing through him. If his core had been caught, it would have ended here.
The pack pressed closer. They moved with practiced ease, herding him back into open ground. Two circled wide, cutting off his escape to the ridge. One prowled low, its ember mane smoldering hotter, ready to pounce. They were not simply beasts—they were hunters, and he was prey trapped in their ring.
Zeke recoiled into himself, his core pulsing wildly. Too much mana churned inside him, swelling from his growth, pushing against the fragile walls of his form. He could not contain it. Fire flared, light flickered, mana seethed. The lions lunged as one—
And Zeke exploded.
The blast tore through the ashlands. A wave of flame and radiance erupted from his trembling body, scorching the ground black, hurling the lions backward. They yowled, their ember-manes sizzling into smoke. The force cracked stone, blew ash into a storm that swallowed the ridge. The air rang with the roar of his mana, a deafening shock that rattled even him.
Zeke convulsed in the heart of it, his body unraveling under his own outburst. He felt himself boiling, his edges sloughing into steam. It was not power he commanded—it was destruction bursting loose. He was weapon and victim both.
When the haze settled, the lions limped away, growling low as they retreated into the smoke. One dragged a scorched paw, another's mane guttered like dying coals. They were not slain, but they had been burned, their pride scattered. They would not risk him again—not tonight.
Zeke sagged into the crater he had carved. His body trembled, edges charred from his own mana backlash. Steam hissed where his form had nearly boiled away. The explosion had saved him. It had also nearly destroyed him. He pulsed faintly, shaking with exhaustion. Power was a curse as much as salvation. Fire and light had answered his call, but without control, they had turned him into a bomb.
"…I'll die if I keep this up," he thought bitterly. The truth of it cut deep. Power without mastery was only destruction. And yet, a small, trembling thrill ran through his being. For the first time, predators had fled from him. He had not been only prey. He had been danger.
The System stirred.
[Level Up: 5 → 6]
Energy surged through him, knitting some of the damage, bolstering his frayed edges. His body swelled slightly larger again, the mana within deepening further. The growth frightened him now. He was becoming too large to move unnoticed, too unstable to endure another outburst. But alongside fear came exhilaration.
[Assimilate Lv.3 → Lv.4]
His skill pulsed stronger, refined by the torrent of mana he had consumed and released. He could feel it now, the potential to draw not just matter, but raw elemental energy more cleanly. The System was guiding him forward. But forward toward what—predator, or catastrophe?
Zeke quivered in the scorched crater, his glow dimming. The ashlands rumbled faintly around him, and for once, the predators did not approach. They had learned caution. And so had he. Fire and light were no longer questions. They were answers. But the answers came at a price, and if he did not learn to bear it, the ashlands would finish what the lions could not.
System Update
Status
Name: Ezekiel Ashbourne
Race: Prime Slime (Unevolved)
Level: 5 → 6
Affinity: Fire (Basic), Light (Basic)
Stats
STR: 3
AGI: 3
VIT: 6
WIL: 3
RES: 8
MNA: 15 → 18
CTL: 2
SkillsActive Skills:
Split (Lv.1): Divide body into fragments; fragments are weaker and drain stamina.
Assimilate (Lv.3 → Lv.4): Absorb weak matter or energy to recover energy; chance to retain minor traits. Stronger pull, refined capacity for elemental energy.
Passive Skills:
Amorphous Body (Lv.2): Immune to blunt trauma, flexible morphology. Adapts efficiently to tight spaces and reshaping. Movements flow with less strain.