Morning came with the sound of axes striking wood.

  Arin woke in his hollow, his awareness immediately drawn to the rhythmic thunk-thunk-thunk echoing through the forest. The woodcutters were already at work, felling trees somewhere beyond the camp's perimeter.

  He flowed to the opening of his hollow and observed the camp below. The fire had been built up, smoke rising steadily into the morning air. Several people moved about their morning routines, hauling water from a nearby stream, tending to what looked like a small vegetable garden, preparing breakfast.

  The children from last night were playing again, their laughter carrying through the crisp air. An older boy was teaching them something with sticks, showing them how to hold them properly. Weapons training, Arin realized. Even the children needed to know how to defend themselves out here.

  Gareth emerged from one of the structures, stretching and yawning. He glanced up at Arin's tree, seemed to spot him, and offered a cautious nod before moving to the fire pit.

  He remembers I'm here. Hasn't changed his mind about letting me stay.

  The woman from last night, the one who'd been cooking, began ladling stew into wooden bowls. The people gathered, eating quickly before returning to their tasks. It was efficient, practiced, the routine of people who couldn't afford to waste daylight.

  Arin watched, fascinated by the simple domesticity of it all. This was what Levi had wanted to experience, what he'd dreamed about when reading his adventure stories. Not the monster hunting or dungeon delving, but the simple act of helping people live their lives.

  After breakfast, Gareth approached Arin's tree. He stopped about fifteen feet away, hands visible and empty.

  "Morning, Arin," he called up. "Hope you rested well. We're heading out to the cutting site soon. You're welcome to follow if you're curious, or you can stay here. Just... maybe avoid going into the structures? The women and children are nervous enough as it is."

  Arin formed letters on the tree bark where Gareth could see them: O K A

  Gareth smiled slightly. "Your spelling's a bit rough, but I appreciate the effort. We'll be back by sundown. There's a stream about fifty paces that way if you need water, though I'm not sure if slimes drink."

  W A T R B A D

  "Water's bad for you?" Gareth's eyebrows rose. "That's... unusual. Good to know, though. We'll keep that in mind."

  The tall man returned to camp, calling out instructions to several other men who were gathering tools. Within minutes, a group of five had assembled, each carrying axes or saws. They headed into the forest, following a well-worn trail.

  Arin debated for a moment, then decided to follow at a distance. He was curious about what they were doing, and staying near people who knew the forest seemed safer than wandering alone while still recovering.

  The woodcutters moved with purpose through the undergrowth, talking quietly among themselves. Arin kept to the trees, following from above, staying far enough back that he wouldn't be a distraction.

  After about twenty minutes, they reached a section of forest where several trees had already been felled. Stumps dotted the area, and partially processed logs lay stacked in organized piles. A large cart, currently empty, waited nearby.

  "Alright, same as yesterday," Gareth said. "Tomas and Jeren, you're on the ash tree. Karel and I will finish sectioning that oak. Meric, you're on watch."

  The youngest of the five men, probably in his early twenties, nodded and moved to the edge of the clearing. He carried a bow and had a horn hanging from his belt.

  Watch for what? Monsters? Bandits?

  The work began in earnest. Two men positioned themselves on opposite sides of a large ash tree, their axes rising and falling in coordinated rhythm. Gareth and Karel worked on a felled oak, using a long saw to cut it into manageable sections.

  Arin watched, impressed by their efficiency. Each stroke of the axe was purposeful, angled to maximize the cut. The saw moved in steady pulls, neither man rushing or forcing it. This was skilled labor, honed by years of practice.

  An hour passed. Then two. The sun climbed higher, and the men took a brief break, drinking from water skins and wiping sweat from their faces despite the cool morning air.

  That's when Meric's horn blared.

  The woodcutters dropped their tools immediately, grabbing weapons. Gareth had a hand axe in one hand and a hunting knife in the other. The others similarly armed themselves with whatever they'd brought.

  "How many?" Gareth called out to Meric.

  "Three! Maybe four! Coming from the east!"

  "Goblins?"

  "Can't tell yet. Moving fast through the brush!"

  The men formed a loose defensive line, facing east, weapons ready. Arin moved through the trees to get a better view, his core pulsing with alarm.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  Shapes burst from the undergrowth. Not goblins. Kobolds.

  [ Kobold Warrior - Level 4 ]

  [ Kobold Warrior - Level 4 ]

  [ Kobold Scout - Level 3 ]

  [ Kobold Shaman - Level 5 ]

  Four of them, just as Meric had said. They were smaller than goblins, more reptilian, with scaled skin ranging from rust-red to muddy brown. Each carried crude weapons, spears and stone axes, and the shaman had a bone fetish that glowed faintly with some kind of magic.

  "Kobolds!" Gareth shouted. "Formation!"

  The woodcutters tightened their line, but Arin could see they were outmatched. These were laborers, not soldiers. They knew how to defend themselves, but fighting kobolds wasn't their trade.

  The kobolds charged, screeching in their harsh, yipping language. One of the warriors hurled its spear, the weapon flying toward Karel. The man tried to dodge, but the spear caught his shoulder, spinning him around.

  Gareth roared and charged forward, meeting the closest kobold warrior with his hand axe. Metal met stone, and the kobold's weapon shattered. Gareth's follow-up strike caught the creature in the chest, dropping it.

  But the other warrior was on Tomas, its stone axe swinging wildly. Tomas blocked with his saw, the improvised defense barely holding. The kobold scout circled around, trying to flank him.

  The shaman began chanting, its fetish glowing brighter. A ball of green light formed in its clawed hand.

  They're going to lose. The shaman's going to turn the fight, and at least one of them will die.

  Arin hesitated. These humans weren't his responsibility. He could flee, could leave them to their fate. Survival meant not taking unnecessary risks.

  But Levi's voice echoed in his mind, clear as if his creator stood beside him: "I want to help people, Arin. I want to make a difference."

  And these people had offered Arin hospitality. Had treated him with caution but also kindness. Had not attacked him despite their fear.

  The decision crystallized in an instant.

  Arin dropped from the tree.

  He used Charge mid-fall, his mass compressing and shooting forward faster than gravity alone would carry him. He aimed for the shaman, the biggest threat, the one that would turn this fight into a massacre.

  [ -5 Essence ]

  The kobold shaman sensed movement at the last second and turned, its yellow eyes widening in alarm. The green spell in its hand flickered, incomplete.

  Arin struck the shaman with his full mass, his wedge form driving into the creature's chest. Bones cracked, and the shaman went down hard, the spell dissipating harmlessly into the air.

  Before the creature could recover, Arin flowed over its head, covering mouth and nostrils. The shaman thrashed, clawing at him, but Arin's acidic nature was already burning through scales.

  [ Acidic Trait Activated ]

  The woodcutters stood frozen for half a heartbeat, shocked by the red slime's sudden intervention. Then Gareth shouted, "Don't just stand there! Finish them!"

  The remaining kobolds, seeing their shaman under attack, lost cohesion. The warrior fighting Tomas turned to help its shaman, which gave Tomas the opening he needed. His saw came down on the kobold's exposed back, and the creature fell with a shriek.

  The scout tried to flee, but Meric's arrow caught it in the leg. It stumbled, and Jeren was on it immediately, his axe ending the fight.

  Beneath Arin, the shaman's struggles weakened, then stopped. He continued the dissolution process, his mass flowing over the creature's body.

  [ +20 Mass ]

  [ +16 Essence ]

  [ Skill Available for Absorption ]

  [ Skill Available: Nature's Hex - Tier 1 ]

  [ Warning: All skill slots occupied. Accept skill? This will replace existing skill. ]

  Arin examined the skill briefly. Nature's Hex allowed the user to channel harmful magic through a focus object, weakening enemies with curses of pain and confusion. The shaman had been preparing exactly such a spell when Arin had struck.

  But even if he had an open skill slot, he couldn't use it. The skill required verbal incantations and a physical focus, neither of which a slime could provide. Some skills simply weren't compatible with his nature.

  [ Skill Declined ]

  The notification appeared, but Arin ignored it for the time being. He reformed into a ball shape and rolled away from the dead shaman, not wanting to appear threatening to the woodcutters.

  The clearing was silent, except for the sound of heavy breathing. Karel sat on the ground, clutching his wounded shoulder. Blood seeped between his fingers, but the wound didn't look fatal.

  Gareth stared at Arin, his expression unreadable. The other men looked between their leader and the slime, weapons still held ready.

  "You saved our lives," Gareth finally said. "That shaman would have killed at least two of us with that spell."

  Arin formed letters on the ground: F R E N D S H E L P

  "Friends help," Gareth repeated, and slowly, a smile spread across his weathered face. "Yes. Yes, they do." He lowered his weapons and turned to his men. "Karel, how bad is it?"

  "I'll live," Karel grunted. "But I need it stitched and cleaned. We all know how filthy kobold spears are."

  "Right. We're done for today. Load what we've already cut, and let's get back to camp. Arin, you're welcome to come with us properly now. I think you've more than earned your place."

  The woodcutters worked quickly, loading the cart with processed lumber. Karel was helped to his feet, one arm around Jeren's shoulders for support. They began the journey back to camp, moving slower than they'd come.

  Arin followed in the trees, but closer now, not trying to hide. Several of the men glanced up at him occasionally, their expressions a mix of gratitude and curiosity.

  When they reached camp, the women rushed out, alarmed by Karel's injury. The graying woman from before, who Arin learned was called Marta, immediately began tending to the wound with practiced efficiency.

  Gareth gathered everyone around the fire and explained what had happened. The story grew slightly in the telling, but the essential truth remained: the strange red slime had saved them from the kobolds.

  "So it stays?" one of the women asked, eyeing Arin warily.

  "It stays," Gareth confirmed. "And its name is Arin. He's proven himself today."

  The children, who'd been kept inside during the initial excitement, peeked out from the structures. The younger one, a girl maybe five years old, pointed at Arin.

  "Is he like a pet?" she asked.

  "No, sweetling," Marta said gently. "He's more like... a guardian. Someone who watches over us."

  Guardian. The word resonated with something deep in Arin's consciousness. That was Levi's word, what he'd wanted to be. A guardian who helped those in need.

  Maybe I can be that. Maybe that's what living means.

  As the sun set and the camp settled into evening routines, Arin remained at the edge of the clearing, watching the humans go about their lives. For the first time since Levi's death, he felt something that might have been purpose.

  He wasn't just surviving anymore. He was part of something. Small, fragile, but real.

  And that made all the difference.