The sewers of Vyrdan were older than the Academy itself.

  Arin didn't know this consciously, but as he navigated the ancient tunnels, he could sense the age in the worn stone, the layers of sediment that had accumulated over centuries. The bioluminescent moss grew thicker in some sections, casting an eerie green glow that made the shadows dance.

  Follow the water.

  Levi had said everything in the city flows down toward the river.

  The current in the drainage channel moved steadily to his right, which meant Arin needed to keep the water on that side as he traveled along the walkway. He'd already learned that lesson painfully. The dilution had stopped, but he could still feel the missing mass, like a part of him was missing.

  Could slimes have phantom mass? The thought was absurd, but it made Arin's core pulse with what might have been amusement.

  I'm thinking about thinking. Is this what Levi did all the time? No wonder he looked tired.

  The tunnel ahead branched into three directions. Arin paused, his form spreading slightly to better sense his surroundings. The left passage was dry, with only a trickle of water along its base. The middle tunnel was wider, with faster-moving water and a louder echo. The right passage seemed to curve upward slightly.

  Middle. The main flow.

  Arin rolled forward, keeping well away from the water's edge. The sound of flowing liquid was constant now, a background rhythm that almost felt calming. Almost. The memory of dilution was too fresh, too frightening.

  Something crunched under his mass.

  Arin stopped and reformed slightly, looking down at what he'd rolled over. Bones. Small ones, probably from rats or perhaps something else. They were old, picked clean, scattered across the walkway as if something had been feeding here regularly.

  A hunting ground.

  The realization came with a prickle of awareness that Arin was beginning to recognize as danger. He'd felt it in the arena, right before each match began. Now it was here, in the darkness, warning him that he wasn't alone.

  A skittering sound echoed from above.

  Arin looked up—or rather, shifted his vision upward. His three-hundred-sixty-degree sight was still something he was learning to process. There, clinging to the curved ceiling about fifteen feet ahead, was an insect the size of Arin's entire mass.

  It had too many legs—eight, maybe ten—and a segmented body that gleamed with a wet, chitinous sheen. Two antennae as long as Arin was wide waved slowly in the air, and a pair of mandibles clicked together with a sound like breaking twigs.

  [ Sewer Beetle - Level 4 ]

  The words appeared in Arin's vision, unbidden. Another aspect of this new life he didn't fully understand yet. Not long after his first encounter with the rats, another had appeared. Staring at it had revealed it was a [ Sewer Rat - Level 1 ]. That knowledge meant something but he wasn’t sure what yet.

  It's a higher level than me. Does that mean it's stronger?

  The beetle's antennae suddenly stopped moving. Its many eyes, Arin counted six, all focused on him at once.

  Then it dropped.

  Arin rolled sideways, his reaction time faster than it had been even during the tournament. The beetle crashed onto the walkway where he'd been a moment before, its legs scrambling for purchase on the slick stone.

  It's fast, but not as agile as the rats were.

  The beetle turned, its mandibles opening wide. A spray of green liquid shot from its mouth, splattering across the stone where Arin had been rolling.

  The stone hissed and began to smoke.

  Acid. It has acid too.

  Arin felt something that might have been professional respect. Here was another creature that used dissolution as a weapon. But where Arin's acid was part of his very nature, this beetle seemed to produce and project it.

  The beetle charged, its multiple legs giving it surprising speed in a straight line. Arin didn't try to dodge this time. Instead, he compressed his mass and formed the wedge shape that had served him so well against the rotifer.

  The beetle's mandibles clamped down on the wedge and immediately began to sizzle.

  [ Acidic Trait Activated ]

  But the beetle's own acid was mixing with Arin's, creating a caustic reaction that hurt them both. Arin felt sections of his mass beginning to burn, to break down in distinctly unpleasant ways.

  [ -3 Mass ]

  It's hurting me. Need to change tactics.

  Arin dissolved the wedge and flowed backward, reforming into a ball. The beetle shook its head, mandibles clicking in what might have been pain or confusion. Green foam dripped from its mouth, eating small pits into the stone.

  I can't just engulf it. The acid will hurt me more than I can hurt it. Need to think. What would Levi do?

  A memory surfaced. Levi's voice, quiet and thoughtful, as he sat at his small desk late one night while Arin rested in his jar.

  "The tournament's not just about power, Arin. It's about understanding your opponent. Every creature has a weakness. The trick is finding it before they find yours."

  Weakness. What's this thing's weakness?

  Arin studied the beetle as it recovered. Its shell was thick, probably resistant to his acid. Its mandibles were dangerous. Its ranged attack was lethal. But those legs...

  The beetle charged again, and this time Arin rolled to meet it. At the last second, he flattened himself into a thin sheet and flowed under the creature's body, coating the underside of its thorax and wrapping around its legs.

  The beetle's charge turned into a stumble as its legs suddenly found themselves stuck together, bound by acidic slime that was actively dissolving the joints where the chitinous armor was thinnest.

  It thrashed, trying to dislodge him, but Arin held on, focusing all his caustic nature on those vulnerable joints. The beetle's acid sprayed wildly, hitting the walls, the ceiling, even its own back, but couldn't reach the underside where Arin clung.

  One leg came free, dissolved at the joint. Then another.

  The beetle's thrashing grew more desperate. It tried to roll, to crush Arin against the stone, but with each passing second, it lost more mobility. Finally, with four of its legs completely dissolved, it collapsed onto its side, mandibles clicking weakly.

  Arin flowed over it, engulfing the entire body. The beetle's shell was tough, but the soft tissue underneath was already exposed from the dissolved joints. His acidic nature went to work, and within minutes, the creature stopped moving.

  [ +28 Mass ]

  [ +15 Essence ]

  [ Level Up! ]

  [ You are now Level 4 ]

  [ +1 Skill Point ]

  The notifications appeared one after another, and with them came a sensation of growth, of expansion. Arin felt his mass increase as the essence he'd absorbed integrated into his core. But more than that, he felt different. Stronger. More substantial.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Level four. Same as the beetle was. Does that mean I'm as strong now as it was?

  The thought was oddly satisfying. Arin collected the last traces of his absorption and continued down the tunnel, leaving the beetle's shell behind—too thick to dissolve quickly, and Arin sensed he needed to keep moving.

  The tunnel continued to slope downward, and the sound of rushing water grew louder. Arin passed through more side passages, more scattered bones, and more evidence of the ecosystem that had existed beneath the city. Twice more, he encountered rats, but these were smaller, less aggressive. They fled at his approach, perhaps sensing that he was no longer prey.

  I'm growing stronger. But is this what Levi wanted? To become a predator?

  The question had no answer, but it sat heavy in Arin's consciousness as he moved through the darkness.

  The tunnel opened into a larger chamber, and Arin stopped at the threshold, his senses overwhelmed by the scale of it.

  The chamber was massive—at least a hundred feet across and half as tall. Multiple drainage channels converged here, all flowing toward a central point where the water disappeared through a large grated gate. The gate itself was ancient iron, thick with rust and moss, with bars spaced wide enough that smaller debris could flow through but larger objects would be caught.

  And there, lounging in the shallows near the gate, was a creature that made the beetle look small.

  It was vaguely crocodilian, but wrong in ways that Arin's newly awakened mind couldn't quite articulate. Its body was at least twelve feet long, covered in overlapping scales that gleamed with a sickly yellow-green color. Four stubby legs ended in webbed claws, and its head was broad and flat, with eyes that sat high on its skull and a mouth full of jagged teeth.

  But it was the tail that drew Arin's attention. The tail was long and thick, with ridged spines running along its length. As Arin watched, the tail swayed lazily in the water, creating small currents that drew floating debris toward the creature's mouth.

  [ Sewer Drake - Level 7 ]

  Seven. It's level seven.

  Arin felt something cold settle in his core. This wasn't a fight he could win. The drake was too large, too high-level, and it lived in the water, the one substance Arin couldn't risk prolonged contact with.

  But the gate was behind the drake. The sound of rushing water beyond that gate called to Arin like a promise. The river. Freedom. The way out.

  I need to get past it. But how?

  Arin stayed at the tunnel entrance, hidden in shadow, watching the drake. It hadn't noticed him yet, or if it had, it didn't consider him a threat. The creature's attention was focused on the water, on the occasional fish or rat that was swept toward the gate by the current.

  It's hunting and using the current to bring food to it.

  A memory tickled at Arin's awareness. Levi, during one of their training sessions, had placed treats in different locations around the room and taught Arin to navigate between them without being seen by a small enchanted sphere that would flash light if it detected movement.

  "Stealth isn't about being invisible, Arin. It's about being where they're not looking."

  Where it's not looking.

  Arin studied the chamber more carefully. The ceiling was covered in moss and hanging stalactites. The walls were made of rough stone, with multiple ledges and protrusions. Several of the drainage channels had raised walkways along their edges, though some had crumbled over the years.

  A plan began to form.

  Arin moved along the wall, keeping to the darkest shadows. His red coloration was a disadvantage here, but the bioluminescent moss cast everything in shades of green, making his color less distinct. He flowed up the wall, using the same technique he'd practiced in climbing down the tower.

  The drake's head turned slightly, following the movement of something in the water. It lunged forward with surprising speed, jaws snapping shut on a rat that had been trying to swim across the chamber. The rat's squeal was cut short, and the drake swallowed it whole before settling back into its hunting posture.

  Arin continued his climb, reaching the ceiling about twenty feet above the water. From here, he could see the layout of the entire chamber. The gate was perhaps forty feet away—close enough to reach, but only if he could avoid the drake's attention.

  The stalactites. I can use them.

  Arin flowed along the ceiling until he reached the nearest stalactite. It was old limestone, worn smooth by centuries of water dripping from above. Arin wrapped his mass around it, feeling the cool stone against his gelatinous body.

  Then he let go of the ceiling, his entire weight now suspended from the stalactite by a thin tendril of slime.

  The stalactite creaked.

  Arin froze, his entire being focused on not making more noise. Below, the drake's head swiveled, eyes scanning the ceiling. For a long moment, neither moved.

  Then a fish jumped in the water, and the drake's attention snapped back to its hunting.

  Too heavy. I'm too heavy for this.

  Arin reconsidered his approach. The stalactite wouldn't support his full mass, but what if he didn't need it to? What if he could move from stalactite to stalactite, distributing his weight, using them like stepping stones across the ceiling?

  He extended a tendril to the next stalactite, perhaps six feet away. The tendril stretched, thinned, until it was barely thicker than his finger had been—when he'd had fingers. When Levi had had fingers.

  Don't think about that now. Focus.

  The tendril reached the next stalactite and wrapped around it. Arin pulled, testing its strength. It held.

  Slowly, carefully, he began to transfer his mass across the gap, flowing through the thin tendril like water through a pipe. It took almost a full minute, and every second felt like an eternity as he hung suspended above the drake.

  But it worked.

  Arin repeated the process, moving from stalactite to stalactite. Each transition was agonizingly slow, each moment a risk of discovery. Below, the drake continued its patient hunting, occasionally lunging at prey but remaining still for the most part.

  Twenty feet to the gate. Fifteen. Ten.

  Arin reached the final stalactite, directly above the rusted iron bars. Beyond them, he could hear it clearly now—the rush of water flowing freely, the promise of the river and escape.

  But there was a problem.

  The gate was at water level. To reach it, Arin would have to drop down and pass within inches of the drake's position. Even if he timed it perfectly, even if the drake was distracted...

  It's too risky. But what choice do I have?

  Arin hung there, suspended above the water, above the drake, above his only path to freedom. Every instinct screamed at him to flee, to find another way, to avoid this confrontation.

  But Levi's voice came to him again, soft and warm, from a memory of the tournament's final match.

  "Sometimes the only way forward is through, Arin. Sometimes you have to take the risk and trust yourself."

  Trust myself. I'm a slime. I'm supposed to be mindless. But I'm not. Not anymore.

  Arin waited, watching the drake's hunting pattern. Every thirty seconds or so, the creature's attention would focus on one particular section of the chamber where the current from two channels met, creating eddies that trapped debris and small prey.

  Thirty seconds. That's all I need.

  The drake lunged at another rat, its head fully submerging as it pursued the fleeing rodent into deeper water.

  Arin let go.

  He fell, his mass compressed into the smallest, densest form he could manage. The drop was ten feet, perhaps less, and he hit the gate with a soft thwap that was barely audible over the rushing water.

  Immediately, Arin began to flow through the bars. They were at least six inches wide, and his compressed form could easily fit. The water was right there, inches away, spray from the current misting against his body and causing small sections to dilute.

  [ -1 Mass ]

  Faster. Move faster.

  Arin was halfway through when the drake's head emerged from the water, the rat forgotten. Those high-set eyes locked onto the gate, onto the red mass that was flowing through it.

  The drake roared—a sound that was part bellow, part hiss, that echoed through the entire chamber. It lunged forward, jaws opening wide.

  Arin squeezed the last of his mass through the bars just as those teeth snapped shut on the space where he'd been. The drake's head slammed into the gate with enough force to make the ancient iron ring like a bell.

  But Arin was through.

  On the other side of the gate, the water flowed freely into a wide channel. The current was strong here, pulling at Arin's body, threatening to sweep him away. He clung to the rough stone wall on the far side of the channel, his mass spread thin to maintain his grip.

  Behind him, the drake thrashed against the gate, its claws scraping against iron, its roars of frustration echoing through the tunnel. But the gate held, and after a few moments, the creature gave up, settling back into its hunting posture with an air of disappointed malice.

  I made it. I actually made it.

  Arin flowed along the wall, following the channel as it sloped even more steeply downward. The sound of rushing water was all-consuming now, a constant roar that drowned out all other noise.

  The tunnel made one final turn, and suddenly Arin could see light.

  Not the green bioluminescence of the sewers, but real light. Dawn light. The warm golden glow of the rising sun.

  The channel emptied into the River Ys through a wide outflow pipe. Beyond that pipe, Arin could see the riverbank, could see grass and trees, could see the sky beginning to brighten with the colors of morning.

  He'd made it. He was free.

  Arin flowed out of the pipe and onto the muddy riverbank, keeping well away from the water. The mud was soft, welcoming, and he rested there for a moment, his mass spread out to catch the warmth of the rising sun.

  I'm outside. I'm really outside.

  The city of Vyrdan rose behind him, the seven towers of the Academy visible even from here, silhouetted against the dawn sky. Somewhere in one of those towers, in a room that was now a tomb, was the body of the person who had given Arin life.

  I'm sorry, Levi. I couldn't stay. I couldn't save you. But I'll live. I promise. I'll learn what that means.

  Ahead, perhaps half a mile distant, was the edge of the Greenwold. The forest was dark even in the growing light, a wall of trees and shadows that promised both danger and shelter.

  Arin pulled himself together, reformed into a traveling shape, and began to roll toward the tree line. Behind him, the river flowed on, carrying away the refuse of the city. Above him, the sun continued to rise, painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson.

  It was the first sunrise Arin had ever truly seen, and it wouldn't be the last.