The surface beneath the poor lad began to rise slowly at first.
For a subtle moment, Melvin almost convinced himself it was his dizziness playing tricks on him, but then, the motion became undeniable. The soft, yielding ground shifted beneath his boots, lifting him higher and then angling his balance forward.
Melvin stiffened.
His eyes darted downward, then around him, and what he saw made his stomach twist.
The white, sticky surface was not stone all this while. It was flesh.
A grotesque colossus unfurled beneath him, its massive body layered in soft, sagging folds that looked half-melted, as if sculpted from wax or congealed mist. What's more, its translucent skin constantly released viscous strands like mucus hanging from its form, giving it an unsettling, gelatinous quality.
Melvin didn't even want to talk more about its helmet-shaped head with no tear to mistake for a mouth and was punctured around by small, dark openings, crowned with a thin protrusion like an eerie antenna.
That wasn't what had made Melvin discern this abomination. It was the extended, broad, wing-like appendages rising from its back like several large antennas and coated in layers of viscous mucus.
"A… sea slug?" Melvin whispered hoarsely. "How is it possible?"
He finally realized that he hadn't landed on the floor but on one of the mythical creature's appendages.
Oblivious of what was happening behind its back, the creature continued to rise, its bulk forming fully, taking shape from the depths below the Bastion Hall.
Melvin's heart slammed against his ribs.
The creature's motion was so slow that he began to think the abomination never needed to crush its prey but dissolved them instead.
But come to think of it, did the slug ever have prey? How has it even been surviving in this ancient hall with nothing to feed on?
Many questions yet again were left unanswered. But he didn't allow himself to dwell on them, else… he might have to be an experiment soon.
'I need to move. Now.'
The appendage beneath his feet tilted as the slug rose higher, drawing him closer to the towering pillars that had lined the hall. Only now did he notice that the pillars extended downward into the underground abyss of the bastion, replicating themselves exactly as they were on the top.
Shaking off his distractions, Melvin tried to step back, but his boot didn't budge.
'Damn it—!'
He looked down and saw the problem immediately. Thick strands of mucus clung to the boot's sole, stretching like glue when he tried to lift his leg. Worse, his free hand, which he had instinctively placed against the creature earlier, was still stuck.
The appendage lifted higher.
Melvin gritted his teeth and forcefully began to pull his hand. The mucus resisted stubbornly, refusing to let go.
'Is this my end?'
Panic clawed at his chest, but he forced it down, reminding himself that although the event had turned out differently, it wasn't his first experience with a deadly situation. If anything, it was that experience that should be put to work for him to survive.
With the newly found resolve, he focused every ounce of his strength and yanked his hand, finally pulling it free with a wet, tearing sound.
As soon as his hand was free, he didn't wish to waste any more moments. But before then, he wanted to see what it was he had received as a soul signature.
He already guessed what it was but still wanted to note a few of its details. Hence, he called out the system to show him the runes.
[Soul Signature]: Aftertick.
[Rank]: ??
[Soul Signature Description]: Forged from the echo of an unfinished blow, its strike does not merely lash the body; it punishes the hesitation that follows.
Melvin read the runes for the second time and gasped.
"Summon," he ordered the soul signature to materialize.
As those words left his mouth, a long, silver whip affixed to a golden handle manifested in his grip from his soul space, its form solidifying instantly.
Without hesitation, he flung it behind him.
The whip cracked through the air, coiling around the nearest pillar with a sharp snap. Pulling it a bit to make sure it had coiled tightly, Melvin braced his feet, then shoved himself violently off the slug's appendage.
The world lurched. Momentum ripped him free from the surface as he swung in a wide arc, mucus trailing from his boot as he flew toward the pillar.
He didn't aim to hug the pillar; instead, he seamlessly adjusted mid-air, twisting his body so that he faced front, with his hand catching the stone while his boots slamming against it behind his back.
Dismissing Aftertick for the meantime, Melvin took this posture so that he could fully discern the slug abomination below him, and with the help of the residue of the sticky mucus on both his hands and boots, he clung there, breathing hard with a racing heart.
The slug continued to rise, its massive body rotating slowly as if reorienting itself toward him.
Melvin didn't wait. Once the slug was truly standing, he couldn't help but imagine how gigantic and tall it would look. His current height won't even be a barrier to the abomination's attack.
As the thoughts flashed in his mind, he began to climb. Every moment he scraped his hands and boots against the pillar in an upward motion, bit by bit layers of mucus were ground away.
His muscles burned from this unusual movement, and his breath came sharp and fast, but he endured, forcing himself upward, higher, and faster.
Below him, the creature stirred and performed an action Melvin would never wish for it, nor dream for it to ever be capable of.
A sudden blur of motion exploded from its side. One of the wing-like appendages on the back of the slug extended and lunged with the speed of light.
"—!"
Melvin barely had time to react.
He snapped his head down, flattening himself against the pillar as the appendage sliced past where his neck had been a heartbeat earlier.
There were no cracks or fractures left by that attack. The pillar was cut clean through with a smooth, terrifying incision.
Melvin stared at the gouge, blood pounding in his eyes.
'That… could've been my head,' he mused and returned his gaze to the abomination.
The appendage recoiled, oozing mucus, already drawing back for another strike.
Melvin climbed once more—and stopped. Then, his hands slipped.
The friction holding him adhesively against the wall was gone. The mucus had worn off so that he could no longer cling.
What was left next for Melvin was a direct plunge downward, and that was fine. It had been his plan from the start. With hands full of mucus, fighting against the slug was akin to mopping an ocean.
Pushing himself off the wall, he let himself fall vertically straight… freely.
Wind tore past him as he dropped, eyes locked on the slug below. He braced for another wing attack—but none came.
Instead, the creature turned fully with another utmost speed it shouldn't possess and moved one of its arms.
Since it was yet to fully stand upright, the distance between its arm and Melvin was almost parallel. Hence, the limb extended unnaturally, stretching far beyond its original length as it thrust forward like a spear.
But it seemed time was Melvin's companion at that moment.
His body had plunged freely down earlier, the attack missing his head by a hair's breadth.
Yet, the next attack from the slug proved its intelligence. It was as if it had expected Melvin to evade that thrust; hence, it swung the other arm upward, toward the falling poor lad.
In the last moment, Melvin hit the ground hard. His knee slammed into the marble, scraping violently as he slid forward. At the same time, he threw his head back, feeling the rush of displaced air as the extended limb of the slug swung through the space where his skull had been.
'Is my head that precious?'
His thoughts dismantled immediately as pain flared on his knee. But stopping was his last option, especially after seeing the abomination possessed an inhuman speed. Oh… well, it wasn't human after all.
Out from the danger of the creature's arm, Melvin rolled, came up low, and his leg wobbled. Then, he steadied his movement and summoned the Aftertick, running to circle the slug.
He could have preferred running in between massive, standing legs, but the sea slug had no legs—only a broad, raised base that dragged and rotated to reposition itself.
Melvin sprinted around it, the golden handle of the whip tight in his grip, eyes fixed on the wing-like appendages.
'Cut them. Take its mobility.'
He lunged, and his whip cracked through the air. The attack he had planned against the slug sounded easy to achieve.
Before Melvin could complete the swing, the slug reacted too fast, as if it had expected the tiny rodent to survive and so, had prepared another attack beforehand.
The creature convulsed, its body heaved, and from above where its head should have been, it vomited.
'Crap.'
A flood of thick, steaming mucus burst outward, spreading outward in a wide arc.
Melvin's eyes widened.
He was positioned in between the wide arc.
There was nowhere to go.
The mucus was going to land directly upon him. What effect would it have when it does?