The forest was eerie and ominous, its thickness pressing in from all sides. Towering trees loomed everywhere, their branches interwoven to form a dense canopy. Whatever moonlight there was filtered only through narrow gaps above, where moonbeams descended like pale, ghostly pillars—enough to keep it from being completely dark.
The moonlight also glowed faintly on the mismatched armor he wore. A gust of wind blew through the forest, sending his cloak fluttering, while his sword and shield weighed heavily in his grip.
He was already beginning to tire, each step slowed by the burden of steel and gear. Physical exertion had never been his strength, and perhaps it had been a mistake to weigh himself down with such heavy protection. Yet it was all he had—the only shield against whatever dangers lurked ahead. He couldn't simply discard it.
He began to consider the possibilities. What if there was a goblin sitting in the tree branches or hidden behind the bushes, waiting for a chance—perhaps to throw a rock at his head the moment he removed his helmet, killing him and then eating his corpse?
Well, at least he wasn't a woman, so the worst that could happen to him was death, not rape. The perks of being born as a man—unless there were female monsters. Ugly female monsters.
"Wurrrrrriiiiii!"
A shrill, piercing cry echoed through the forest, slicing through the silence like a blade. His entire body stiffened in an instant—his muscles tightening, his breath catching in his throat as his pulse quickened violently. Beneath the helm, his face remained expressionless, yet his mind screamed in terror. He felt as though he might wet himself from sheer fear, but the strange phenomenon he'd named his emotional suppressor wouldn't allow it. It dulled his panic, numbed his trembling, leaving him trapped in a body that refused to express what his mind felt. In a way, he was grateful for that.
Rattle!
From the thicket ahead, between the dark silhouettes of trees, something small emerged. Leaves rustled, branches swayed, and then it appeared—bouncing forward with a faint, wet squelch.
It was tiny, barely the size of a basketball, its entire body translucent and gelatinous. The creature quivered with each movement, its surface rippling as it rolled closer on the forest floor. Within that transparent mass, he could see a faintly glowing core—an orb-like organ pulsing softly, giving the slime an eerie, almost hypnotic rhythm.
"A… slime?" he muttered under his breath, disbelief mixing with cautious curiosity.
The sight was almost absurd. Out of all things, this was what had startled him—a creature straight out of RPG tutorials and beginner zones. In games and fantasy novels, slimes were the weakest of monsters, harmless blobs meant for novice players to farm for experience points. They were living punching bags, the first enemy, the lowest of the low.
But that was fiction.
He tightened his grip on his sword, the metal whining slightly under the pressure. The idea that this creature might be as weak as its fictional counterpart was wishful thinking. For all he knew, this thing could leap at him and dissolve his flesh within seconds.
This wasn't a game—no HP bar, no respawn, no second chances. One mistake, one wrong step, and he'd end up like those armored corpses outside the forest. Dead, forgotten, and half-rotten under moonlight.
The slime quivered again, producing a faint, bubbling noise as if mocking his hesitation.
It's better to leave the thing alone and move on. There's always the possibility that this creature isn't as weak as it appears—despite being a slime. In fiction, they may be portrayed as harmless, but this isn't fiction anymore. For all I know, this thing could kill me in a single strike…
Before he could even turn to leave, the slime suddenly quivered, its form distorting in a grotesque ripple. The once soft, harmless blob stretched upward, splitting open at the front. A mouth—if it could even be called that—tore into existence, filled with rows of small, jagged teeth glistening with saliva. Its once-blank surface warped into something resembling a snarl, a soundless growl that made his stomach twist.
Then it lunged.
His instincts took over. Before his mind could fully process the movement, his arms moved on their own—he thrust the sword forward, driving the blade straight into the creature's glowing core, that strange pulsing organ at its center. He didn't know if it was the right spot, but in every story, every game, the "core" was always the weakness. Hit it, and the monster would die. Or at least falter long enough for him to run.
Fortunately, it was the former.
The slime convulsed violently, its gelatinous body trembling and collapsing in on itself like a melting candle. Within seconds, it began to dissolve, leaving behind only a foul-smelling puddle and the faint, translucent remains of its core—still twitching faintly, impaled on his sword tip.
"Ugh… gross."
He grimaced behind the visor, flicking the sword sharply to dislodge the core. It fell to the ground with a soft splat, vanishing into the damp earth.
He stepped back, leaning against a nearby tree as he tried to catch his breath. The brief scuffle had drained him more than he'd expected—his arms ached, his heartbeat thundered in his chest, and the weight of his armor felt suffocating. Still, he didn't dare remove his helmet. Doing so, even for a moment's comfort, would've been stupid.
"If I didn't have this sword…" he muttered, raising the weapon slightly toward the light that filtered through the canopy, "I'd already be dead. Just goes to show—even the most harmless-looking thing in this world can turn out dangerous. Deadly, even."
Rattle!
A sound echoed through the woods.
Rattle!
Then again.
Rattle!
Rattle!
It came from every direction now, soft but distinct—the sound of movement. The air grew heavy, the faint stench of rot drifting closer. His body stiffened, every muscle bracing as he pushed himself upright, tightening his grip on his sword and raising his shield.
From the shadows between the trees, they began to appear.
Dozens of slimes—no, hundreds—oozed out from the undergrowth, their translucent bodies glowing faintly in the moonlight. They squelched and bounced with eerie coordination, forming a loose circle around him. Each one quivered like a droplet of living jelly, creeping closer with each passing second.
These ones were smaller—barely the size of a tennis ball.
Baby slimes?
They looked almost harmless, almost cute…
Almost.
But he knew better than to lower his guard. If the one he killed had been a parent slime, then these might be its offspring—and they could very well attack to avenge it. He only hoped their teeth weren't strong enough to pierce through his armor. What worried him more was the thought of them swarming all at once, piling onto him, and crushing him beneath their sheer weight.
Suddenly, tens of slimes leapt at him from the front, while the others in different directions only stared, wriggling in place, as though waiting—studying him—before making their move.
These things are smarter than I thought.
He swung his sword in a wide arc, aiming for the pulsing cores inside their gelatinous bodies. A few were split apart instantly, collapsing into piles of goo. At the same time, others slammed into his shield, their collective force shoving him backward a step. Gritting his teeth, he planted his feet and let out a roar, pushing against the weight. With every ounce of strength, he shoved them off, then lashed out again with his blade, slicing through their quivering forms in a desperate rhythm of defense and attack.
Hmmm…?
For the briefest moment, a faint green light shimmered across his vision—so faint it could have been imagined. But in that split second, something changed. The crushing exhaustion in his muscles vanished, his breaths steadied, and strength surged back into his body as if he had never tired at all.
The slimes that had slipped past his earlier swings lunged at him again, joined by the others circling closer. He raised his sword once more, but this time his movements were sharper, quicker—unnaturally so. His blade cut through the air in rapid arcs, slashing in a zigzag pattern across the horde. Each strike met its mark, slicing through gelatinous bodies and bursting their glowing cores.
One after another, the slimes dissolved into formless goo, until none remained standing.
Then, tens of slimes rushed him from the left, each baring jagged teeth like the one before. He swung his blade in a wide arc, cutting them down in a single sweep. Again, the strange green light flickered across his vision—there and gone in an instant—and with it, his fatigue vanished as if it had never been.
The next wave struck from the right, but this time he was ready. He dodged swiftly, shield raised to deflect the rest with surprising ease.
I don't know what's happening… but I like it!
He tightened his grip on the sword, steel biting into his palm as his heart pounded. All at once, every remaining slime hurled itself at him, a tide of bouncing predators crashing from every direction.
He slashed furiously, blade flashing, but their numbers were overwhelming. Within moments, they smothered him, forcing him to the ground and pinning him beneath their gelatinous weight.
Creak!
The sound of strained metal filled his ears as his armor buckled under the crushing force. Panic clawed at his chest, but he refused to let it end here. Summoning every last shred of his newfound strength, he roared and forced himself upward.
The wave of power burst from him like a shockwave—slimes were hurled in every direction, smashed into trees with wet cracks, torn apart on jagged rocks, or splattered across the forest floor. A few survived the blast, trembling in fear, before quickly retreating into the shadows.
He exhaled, a breath of relief and victory escaping him. Once again, a faint green light radiated around him—twice now—and his energy and stamina were fully restored.
His armor had taken some damage, and his shield was dented and scratched, but fortunately, his sword remained untouched—sharp and ready.
"I think I need to go back, change my armor and shield, and then return to continue my way…" he muttered. He made his way back to where the corpses lay, scavenging a fresh set of armor and a new shield to replace his damaged gear."