The trail had changed him. For the first time, Zeke had chosen his prey, tracked it, and struck on his own terms. The thrill of that victory still pulsed within him, a quiet reminder that he was learning to be more than prey.
But as he lingered near the lip of his nest, watching the ashlands stretch empty and hostile, another thought struck him. Hunting took effort. It took time, risk, and energy. Each time he ventured out, predators might sense him just as easily as prey. Even now, something larger could be tracking him in turn.
"If prey can stumble into danger… then why can't I make the danger?"
The thought lit a spark in him. Not just hunting, not just reacting, but luring. Creating conditions where prey came to him—helpless, unknowing. The idea of building danger was intoxicating in its simplicity.
He began his experiment near a ridge not far from his nest. The ground there was loose, ash layering thick over brittle stone. Perfect for digging.
Zeke split, fragments rolling outward. One anchored the ground while the other extended pseudopods, scraping shallow furrows into the ash. The first pit was clumsy, uneven, more a gouge than a snare. He coated its base with sticky secretion, but the slime sagged quickly, sliding down the slope until it pooled uselessly at the bottom.
He hissed in irritation. "No. Too shallow. Too loose. The slime won't hold. Think. Adjust."
He tried again, deepening the pit this time. But as he spread slime across the sides, the secretion hardened unevenly. Some sections clung, others cracked and flaked away. When he tested it by pressing a pseudopod against the coating, the slime peeled back, leaving the wall bare.
Failure. Again.
But failure was data. He pulsed slowly, forcing calm. "The secretion must be layered thin. Each coat hardens, then supports the next. Rushing only wastes effort."
So he adjusted. The next attempt, he spread secretion in delicate lines, smoothing them thin before letting them cure. He layered again, then again, building stability one coat at a time. Still, when he dropped a fragment into the pit as a test, the ash collapsed too easily. The fragment clambered out, slime sticking but not holding.
He considered the flaw carefully. "Not enough cohesion. The slope collapses, the weight distributes wrong. Solution: reinforcement ridges. If the walls cannot hold, shape them to funnel."
The next pits took longer. He shaped angled ridges, narrowing the center, so when weight pressed down, the ash would crumble inward rather than out. It took hours of scraping, smoothing, and layering. The work left him trembling, fragments near collapse. But the structure held. A trap—rudimentary, but real.
He tested again. This time with a live target.
Zeke slithered low nearby, glow dimmed, fragments poised. Patience stretched thin as he waited. Finally, a cluster of ember-rodents scurried across the ridge, squealing faintly as they sniffed the ash. They moved erratically, tongues flicking sparks, noses twitching.
The first rodent scampered across the ash. The surface gave way instantly. It squealed, tumbling into the pit, claws scrabbling uselessly against slime-slick walls. The others scattered in alarm—but too late. Two more toppled after it, ash collapsing beneath their weight.
Zeke surged. Pseudopods lashed downward, pinning the trapped rodents in place. His body flowed over the pit, engulfing squeals and sparks alike.
[Skill Activated: Assimilate]
Heat and essence poured into him. The rodents dissolved one by one, their sparks feeding his core. Relief and triumph surged together. It had worked.
The System stirred.
[Level Up: 9 → 10]
Energy rippled through his body, swelling his mana pool further. His mass thickened, edges hardening faintly. The pit trap had given him more than prey—it had given him progress.
[Pseudopod Lv.3 → Lv.4][Amorphous Body Lv.4 → Lv.5]
His pseudopods flexed sharper now, striking with cleaner precision. His mass flowed smoother, shaping effortlessly into whatever form he demanded. Every failed attempt, every layer of slime, had refined the way his body understood itself.
[CTL +1]
He pulsed faintly, savoring the sharpened awareness. He could thread slime with greater accuracy, direct fragments without collapse. The trap had trained him as much as the fight.
Zeke lingered over the pit, absorbing the last traces of heat. The rodents were gone, but the idea remained. He had built danger. He had shaped the land itself into a weapon.
He pulsed with quiet pride. "Fire gave me hunger. Light gave me memory. Split gave me reach. Now… now I can shape the battlefield. Prey will not only run from me. They will fall into me."
Back at his nest, he settled into the reservoir, glow faintly brighter. But this time, the glow was not only survival. It was the faint flicker of strategy. He was no longer only enduring the ashlands. He was beginning to bend them to his will.
And that, more than any single kill, was the first step toward becoming more than prey.
System Update
StatusName: Ezekiel AshbourneRace: Prime Slime (Unevolved)Level: 9 → 10Affinity: Fire (Basic), Light (Basic)
StatsSTR: 5AGI: 5VIT: 8WIL: 3RES: 8MNA: 28 → 31CTL: 5 → 6
SkillsActive Skills:
Split (Lv.2): Divide body into fragments. Fragments now sustain briefly under Zeke's control but drain mana.
Assimilate (Lv.5): Absorb weak matter or energy to recover energy; chance to retain minor traits. Cleaner, more efficient absorption, but increasingly demanding.
Pseudopod (Lv.3 → Lv.4): Extend body into tentacle-like appendages. Sharper, more cohesive. Limited to two pseudopods.
Passive Skills:
Amorphous Body (Lv.4 → Lv.5): Immune to blunt trauma, flexible morphology. Mass reshapes fluidly, adapting seamlessly for combat or construction.