The fissures dimmed behind him, their glow fading as the land settled into uneasy silence. Zeke moved slowly across the ash, fragments drifting in faint arcs around his body. His threads trembled still from the molten ichor of the skitterers, but they held. Pain lingered where his filaments had burned, yet that pain carried weight—strength woven from suffering. Fire no longer only harmed him. A trace of it lived inside him now. But the cost was clear. Each victory swelled him further, each Assimilation a step closer to collapse. Split bought him time, not balance.
The hunger had not left. It prowled within, silent but sharp, pressing at every edge. He knew it would never vanish. It was his nature. What mattered was whether he bent to it or held his line. The ashlands gave no mercy for indulgence.
For days the prey had been absent. But now, faint tremors brushed his filaments. Small, quick heartbeats. Rodents, insects, burrowers—finally daring to crawl back to the surface after storm and predator. The rhythm of the land was returning.
Hunger sharpened instantly, pressing at his restraint. This was easy food, the kind that vanished into him without effort. But he did not leap blindly. He remembered the serpent, the hounds, the skitterers. He remembered near-collapse. Feeding without measure would ruin him faster than any claw.
He spread filaments wide, sinking fragments low across the ash. Prey scattered as they sensed him, but he lashed pseudopods with whip precision, striking in silence. Darkness cloaked some, smothering squeals. Fire licked others, burning them still. Rodents vanished into his form one by one, insects pulled in threads at a time. Assimilation surged, but he slowed it deliberately, weaving each piece into himself. No waste, no rush. He fragmented and rejoined in cycles, bleeding off swelling mass before it could strain his threads.
The hunger urged him to devour everything at once. But he paced himself, thread by thread. This was training, not indulgence. Each heartbeat consumed was another test of control. He noted the difference—his Assimilation was smoother than days before, more efficient, less wasteful. The molten ichor of the skitterers had taught him restraint. Even small prey could sharpen that lesson.
The ash shuddered.
A heavier rhythm struck through the ground, scattering prey in all directions. Zeke froze, threads trembling. The vibrations were too heavy, too sharp. Not prey. Predator.
It stepped from the haze with ember veins glowing along its shoulders, a form lean and powerful, larger than the hounds of before. Its eyes burned hot, its breath a steady hiss of smoke. This was no pack animal. This one hunted alone, a predator that needed no kin. Its presence pressed on the ash like weight.
The hound charged, claws raking arcs through the ash. Zeke Split wide, fragments scattering into a loose ring. Pseudopods lashed from every angle. Fire seared its flank, shadows coiled around one leg, Light flared into its eyes. The beast roared, tearing through bindings, its body stronger than its smaller kin. Claws cut into a fragment, sparks bursting uncontrolled. Zeke reeled it back with effort, threads screaming.
Instability pressed sharp. He had just fed, his body swollen with prey essence. Split held the pressure barely. He fought in cycles—some fragments striking, others dispersing weight. The hound lunged again, jaws snapping. A pseudopod caught its throat, Fire blazing through. The beast twisted, tearing free, flesh sizzling. Another slammed into its flank, Darkness binding tighter. For a moment it faltered, snarling.
The predator did not relent. It circled, faster now, striking from unexpected angles. Zeke stretched his filaments wider, trying to anticipate the next move. The hound blurred through ash, claws raking another fragment, scattering sparks into the air. He nearly lost control, threads trembling on collapse, but forced them tight again. He lashed Light suddenly, blinding it for a heartbeat, then struck with fire from both sides. The beast reeled but recovered quickly, lunging again with renewed fury.
It became a battle of attrition. Every strike he landed tore pieces from its ember flesh, every strike it landed frayed his threads thinner. Sparks and blood hissed into the ash until the air itself smelled of smoke and iron. At last, resonance flared—Light and Darkness bending around Fire. The clash warped the air, his body screaming with strain. The beast staggered, blinded, and pseudopods cracked down. Bones broke under pressure. The hound writhed, claws raking stone, then collapsed in a hiss of embers.
But even fallen, it was not finished. With a last surge, it rolled onto a fragment, claws raking deep gouges into Zeke's form. Pain tore through him, sparks scattering uncontrolled. His core quaked, Split threads trembling at their limits. He retaliated with precision. A pseudopod coiled like a vice, wrapping the beast's neck, while another speared through its chest, Fire bursting outward. The predator convulsed once, then sagged, ember light fading from its eyes. Only then did it fall still.
Silence returned. Ash drifted, glowing faintly where embers clung to the carcass. Prey heartbeats were gone again, scattered deep into their burrows. Only the predator's corpse remained.
Zeke dragged it in.
Assimilate stirred violently, surging with heat and blood. He slowed the process as before, forcing discipline. Prey and predator alike dissolved inside him, their essence woven carefully, no thread wasted. His body swelled dangerously, but Split bled pressure into fragments. Each cycle hurt, but each cycle refined his control. The burn was worse than the skitterers. Predator essence resisted him more fiercely, heat threaded with will. It tried to claw apart his threads even in death. He clamped down, weaving it thread by thread, forcing it into place.
The struggle lasted long after the carcass was gone. His fragments trembled as he forced molten strength into shape. His glow dimmed and flared unevenly. He could feel instability sharpening, each thread stretched to hold weight it should not. Yet he endured. When at last the essence stilled, it lay woven into him, not as weakness but as another layer of survival.
When it ended, the predator was gone. Only scorched ash and claw marks remained. Zeke pulsed faintly, dim but steady. The hunger dulled for now, contained behind calculation. He knew it would rise again, but for this moment he had balance.
He stretched filaments wide once more. The land's rhythm had shifted again. Prey would return, predators would follow. This was the ashlands' truth—trials without end. He trembled, but not from fear. From resolve.
Control sharpened under strain. Instability was not only his enemy. It was his whetstone. Every battle pressed him closer to breaking, but in that pressure lay the edge he needed.
The System stirred.
System Update
Status
Name: Ezekiel AshbourneRace: Prime Slime (Unevolved)Level: 15
Affinity: Fire (Basic), Light (Basic), Darkness (Basic)
StatsSTR: 9AGI: 9VIT: 12WIL: 10RES: 11MNA: 48CTL: 16 → 17
Skills
Active Skills:
Split (Lv.5): Divide body into fragments. Fragments sustain longer, coordinate better, and bleed less mana. Overflow dispersal more efficient.
Assimilate (Lv.7): Absorb matter or energy to recover essence; smoother, more efficient absorption. Can now pull minor elemental traces.
Pseudopod (Lv.7): Tentacle-like appendages with whip precision and crushing power. Limited to two, but refined.
Passive Skills:
Amorphous Body (Lv.6): Immune to blunt trauma, flexible morphology. Reshapes seamlessly under combat pressure.