The ashlands lay quiet, too quiet. After the fall of the glassback drake, the land had dimmed, its fissures breathing only faint wisps of smoke. Prey had returned in greater rhythm—rodents scurrying, insects stirring—but the silence beneath was deeper, heavier. Zeke stretched his filaments wide, brushing the ground. The pulses of prey were clear, but beneath them was something else. A tremor heavier than prey, sharper than shifting stone. It was not the steady weight of a stalker or the thud of a hound. It moved differently.
The ash shifted. Ripples spread outward as though something vast moved below. The prey scattered instantly, vanishing into burrows or cracks. Zeke dimmed, lowering himself close to the ash, filaments tightening. The tremor pulsed again, nearer, like a heartbeat beneath the ground. Then the earth split.
The predator erupted in a shower of ash. Its body was long and armored with black plates that glistened with dust. Mandibles gleamed faintly, glowing at the edges, and its legs churned the ash like waves. An ash burrower.
It lunged instantly, mandibles snapping. Zeke Split, fragments scattering around the eruption. Pseudopods whipped down, striking its armor. Sparks flew as blows skidded across its plates. The burrower hissed, churning back into the ground in a spray of soot. The tremor vanished beneath him.
He stilled, filaments sinking deeper, stretching into the earth. Every pulse, every shift of the burrower's massive body reverberated through him. He tracked it like a shadow in the dark. When it surged upward again, he was ready.
The burrower struck hard from below, shattering a fragment against its armored head. Pain ripped through Zeke, sparks bleeding uncontrolled. He lashed downward with Darkness, threads coiling around its mandibles, holding them apart. Fire surged into the cracks, sizzling where softer flesh lay. The beast shrieked, flailing, but tore free, diving back beneath the surface.
Instability worsened. The constant need to Split wider, to cover the ground, bled mana too fast. Fragments trembled at their limits, quivering with strain. Sparks sprayed into the ash as control slipped, but he dragged it back, forcing precision.
The predator circled below. Each tremor rolled across him like thunder. He adjusted, laying webs of filaments deep into the ash. They quivered at each pass, marking the burrower's path. He struck not by reaction but anticipation. Pseudopods lashed with whip speed, one slamming into its flank, another piercing between plates. The beast thrashed, dragging him sideways, but he clung tighter, forcing strike after strike into the softer seams.
The burrower burst upward again, body twisting, mandibles slashing. Light flared, blinding it mid-lunge. Darkness bound its legs, locking them still. Fire slammed through its underplates, searing deep. The predator shrieked, but twisted free, collapsing tunnels in its retreat. The ash shifted violently, fragments scattering, but Zeke reformed, pressing forward.
Again it circled below. This time, the tremors split into two directions, feinting. One fragment lashed too early, striking empty ground. The true attack came from behind, mandibles snapping into his core. Pain seared as sparks showered violently, a fragment nearly torn away. He whipped back with precision, pseudopods cracking like whips, binding its mandibles, searing them shut. Fire lanced deep into its chest, and the beast retreated, thrashing into the earth with half its body scorched.
But the burrower adapted. Its tremors shifted rhythm, breaking patterns, striking at odd intervals. Twice Zeke struck at shadows, wasting precious mana. Instability surged, Split threads stretched to tearing. The predator surged up beneath him, mandibles wide, but he had anticipated at last. Threads flared into resonance—Darkness coiled its mandibles, Light seared its eyes, Fire burned deep into its chest. The beast screamed, collapsing tunnels in fury. The ash caved, fragments scattering in clouds, but Zeke clung on, hammering its body again and again until molten blood sprayed through cracks in its armor.
The battle dragged long. The burrower attacked from below, each eruption scattering ash in fountains. Zeke grew sharper with each clash, pseudopods striking faster, more flexible, weaving strikes in rhythm with its tremors. Instability screamed, mana bleeding, but he pressed on. Each near-collapse taught him precision. Each thread held tighter than the one before.
Finally, the burrower weakened, its body riddled with cracks and burns. It surged upward one last time, mandibles wide, seeking to tear him apart. Zeke lashed out, four pseudopods striking at once—Darkness binding, Light blinding, Fire burning through its chest. The predator convulsed, armor shattering, before collapsing in the ash. Its body twitched once, then stilled.
He dragged it into himself.
Assimilate burned. The burrower's essence was heavy, gritty, carrying traces of ashstone and earth. It ground against his threads as if trying to tear them apart. Sparks flared as his body quivered, mass swelling dangerously. He slowed the intake, weaving carefully, smoothing the coarse essence into something usable. Fragments spread wide, bleeding weight, each cycle of Assimilation training his control sharper. He forced the grit into place, folding it into his essence.
The process was agony. Each grain of essence scoured him raw, grinding through his threads like sand. He layered it carefully, thread by thread, until the sharpness dulled, until it became structure instead of burden. It took long moments, his body dimming, sparks showering the ground. But when it settled, it did not unravel him. It strengthened him.
When it ended, silence returned. The ashlands lay still, save for faint heartbeats of prey creeping back into the open. Zeke pulsed faintly, dim but steady. He stretched filaments wide, sensing the earth beneath. Speed and power meant little without foresight. Instability was a burden, but it was also a whetstone, pressing his control sharper. Every predator pushed him closer to collapse. But every collapse avoided was another step toward endurance.
He reflected in the silence. Each foe taught a lesson. The hounds—coordination. The drake—patience. The burrower—anticipation. Together, they carved his path forward. He was not merely feeding. He was being honed.
The System stirred.
System Update
Status
Name: Ezekiel Ashbourne
Race: Prime Slime (Unevolved)
Level: 15
Affinity: Fire (Basic), Light (Basic), Darkness (Basic)
Stats
STR: 9
AGI: 9
VIT: 12
WIL: 10
RES: 11
MNA: 48
CTL: 18
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.8): Absorb matter or energy to recover essence; smoother, more efficient absorption. Can now pull minor elemental traces.
Pseudopod (Lv.7 → Lv.8): 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.