Although every fiber of Ewan's being screamed for him to collapse onto the floor and weep a river over this pathetic, dog-eaten excuse for a life, his rationality kicked him into high gear. He had to leg it. The Slime he had just summoned was in mortal peril!
Even though his gelatinous companion possessed a mechanism akin to a "Phoenix's immortality" - capable of resurrection after death - the cooldown period was so excruciatingly long that one could practically grow moss while waiting. Furthermore, the little guy had just performed a meritorious service by heating his bathwater. How could he, as a decent human being, stand idly by and watch his benefactor get "served on a silver platter"? To see it die without lifting a finger... where was the honor in that?
Thoughts translated instantly into action. Ewan frantically grabbed a pile of tattered old clothes from the ground and hastily threw them on. Thank heavens this heap of fabric hadn't been soaked through, and it was equally fortunate that he hadn't yet tossed them out into the yard. Otherwise, Ewan might have been forced to streak out into the street, completely stark naked, on a mission to save the world.
Scrambling out of the bathtub on all fours, he shrieked like a house on fire: "Wait! Stop! Don't hit it!"
Ewan understood this ridiculous Interstellar Era all too well. In the eyes of the populace, Slimes were no different from cockroaches or sewer rats. The standard procedure was to smash on sight, regarding them as the seeds of an invasion. Thus, the tragic tale of an innocent Slime suffering physical trauma while merely taking a stroll was as common as daily meals in this district.
Sure enough, his premonition was dead on. The moment he shoved the bathroom door open and rushed out, a horrifying scene assaulted Ewan's vision: Asher Ryder stood there, gripping a gleaming axe, radiating murderous intent as he prepared to cleave the poor, blushing Slime in twain. As for his Slime - that little debt of a life - it could only wail a pathetic "piu piu," bouncing frantically around the yard like a defective rubber ball.
"Don't! Don't chop! That's home-grown produce! I summoned it myself, it's not a wild Star Beast!"
The trouble was, in this day and age, even purebred wild Slimes were listed as Star Beasts, despite their combat power being laughably weak - fragile enough to shatter like a stalk of stale noodles soaked in water at the slightest touch.
Upon spotting its "savior" Ewan, the fire-element Slime immediately activated "turbo mode," using every ounce of its strength to roll thunderously toward him. Only then did Ewan see clearly that his darling pet had shriveled by a full size. It looked so tiny and pitiful that it tugged at his heartstrings. It must have been chased by Asher for quite some time, burning through too many energy dodging attacks, which explained why its size had eroded and its brilliant red hue had faded into this rustic shade of baby pink. Oh, his poor Flarie!
That's right, Ewan had made up his mind. The name Flarie sounded both humble and easy to raise, plus it suited its elemental alignment perfectly. Deal sealed!
Flarie scrambled quickly into his embrace, and Ewan naturally opened his arms to catch the trembling "mochi ball." The moment it landed in the warm safety of its master's hold, it emitted a ceaseless stream of "piu piu piu" noises, sounding like a broken siren. To an outsider, it was gibberish, but thanks to the divine summoning bond, Ewan heard the Slime's aggrieved lamentations with crystal clarity:
[Boo hoo hoo, bad man!]
[Bad man, bad man, bad man!]
Ewan sighed in exasperation. The vocabulary of this species was truly impoverished, round and round, they only knew how to call someone a "bad man". "Rest assured, my son." He thought: "Wait a few days until Daddy has free time. I'll open a remedial culture class and teach you one thousand and eight unique ways to curse people out. Satisfaction guaranteed or your money back!"
While thinking nonsense to calm himself, Ewan hugged Flarie tight against his chest and looked ahead. By now, Asher Ryder had lowered his axe, standing not far away. For some reason, this burly man seemed awkward, his eyes darting around like roasting peanuts - looking at the sky, the ground, east, west - absolutely anywhere but directly at Ewan.
Huh? What's he shy about?
Ewan glanced down at himself. "Ah, I get it." In his haste, his attire was a bit... liberated. The clothes were disheveled, likely exposing a fair bit of "skin". But so what? They were both grown men, the equipment and ammunition were the same. Whatever Asher had, Ewan had too. What the hell was there to be embarrassed about?
Grumbling internally, Ewan took a moment to rearrange his garments into a semblance of decency. Then, clutching the Slime, he brazenly walked right up to Asher, beaming as he lifted Flarie high like a fragile egg or a precious flower. "Look at him, isn't he adorable? Verified owner-summoned goods right here. Don't let his size fool you, his water-heating skills are top-tier!"
Ewan's demeanor at that moment was exactly like a kindergartner showing off a newly acquired pet, eyes sparkling, just waiting for an adult to say "Good job." His excessive enthusiasm placed a thousand pounds of pressure on Asher, as if failing to offer a compliment would make him an eternal sinner.
The fire elemental Slime in his hands was no slouch at acting, either. It mimicked its master's expression perfectly. Although its anatomy consisted solely of two large, round eyes, that shimmering gaze begging for head pats was unmistakable. It seemed to have developed a case of "temporary amnesia," completely forgetting that the man standing before it was the very grim reaper who had just chased it around the yard with an axe, causing it to smoke from exertion.
Truly, it was as foolish as its master. Like owner, like pet - there was no mistake.
Asher let out a breath of helplessness, then reluctantly nodded, dropping a compliment purely for social etiquette: "Hmm... it does look... quite cute. But you need to watch over it carefully. Don't let strangers mistake it for an invading Star Beast and slice it into oblivion."
"No worries, it has an auto-resurrection mode. The respawn time is just a bit long, kind of like network lag. Or at worst, I'll spend a bit more mental energy to summon it again."
As he spoke, Ewan nonchalantly placed Flarie atop his head like a pink beret: "I'm done bathing. Give me a moment to clean up inside."
Asher was about to grunt an acknowledgement when he suddenly realized something unusual. He narrowed his eyes, his tone turning serious: "Ewan, hold on. Did you... awaken a Talent?"
"That's right. My skill is summoning these wiggly little things." Ewan replied, tilting his head and pointing a finger at the lump of Slime enthroned on his hair. Flarie cooperated beautifully, blinking its eyes rapidly in an attempt to look "innocent and naive".
"You... awakened, and the family still didn't want you?"
Asher's voice faltered slightly, carrying a hint of caution as if afraid to touch Ewan's unhealed scars. Yet, Ewan didn't seem to care in the slightest, answering as lightly as a feather: "Nope, they turned their noses up at it for being useless. Said raising it was a waste of rice, basically."
"Being able to boil water is already useful, what do you mean useless?" At this point, Asher suddenly sighed deeply, his voice dropping into a heavy melancholy: "People in this backwater hole can't even achieve the simplest awakening, let alone being picky about it."
A bit of explanation is required here: the Talent system in this world was divided by class as strictly as a nutritional pyramid. The high-end luxury tier included things like those found in novels - Control, Space, Time, the Five Elements, summoning wind and rain. The working class consisted of speed, strength, and iron skin. And then there was the "bottom of society" tier, like him... summoning Slimes, or calling forth random junk like mud or dry leaves.
Truthfully, to be fair, the Elemental Summoning Talent wasn't bad at all, it was actually quite posh. Normal people summoned badass elemental shades to attack or defend. But as luck would have it, Trịnh Thế An's form of summoning had undergone a genetic mutation. Instead of a majestic elemental shade, it "birthed" a Slime that looked both stupid and harmless.
Attack? No. Defense? Even less so. Low elemental density, poor explosive capability. But on the flip side, using it for errands, boiling water, warming the bed, or acting as a body pillow wasn't half bad.
Oh well, screw it. At least according to Asher, in this "monkey coughing, crane crowing" desolate wasteland, he was considered a "somebody."
However, Ewan was still curious and blurted out: "Is it because awakening failed?"
"Awakening failed" - a phrase that sounds flowery, but is essentially a euphemism for: You have no talent, go home and herd ducks.
"Only partially." Asher sighed again, a sigh heavy with the scent of poverty. "Mostly, it's because there's no money to buy an Awakening Stone."
Well, that answer... Ewan didn't find it particularly surprising. In this place so poor that "dogs eat rocks and chickens eat gravel", obtaining an exorbitantly priced Awakening Stone was probably harder than climbing up to the sky to pluck a star.