My lungs burned.

  I bent forward, hands on my knees, as my dull iron blade slipped from my numb fingers and clattered uselessly against the forest floor. Sweat dripped down my chin, soaking into the dirt.

  Thirty.

  I had hunted around thirty slimes, weak, harmless things that barely fought back, and fed their shimmering cores to my own. One after another. Core after core.

  And for all that effort…

  Nothing.

  My slime sat there, wobbling slightly, a translucent blob of gelatinous blue that looked no different from when I’d first recorded it. No glow. No size increase. No mutation. No hint of evolution.

  Just… jello.

  I stared at it, chest heaving.

  “…Should’ve just left,” I muttered bitterly.

  I wiped my face with my sleeve, picked up my battered sword, and turned back toward the city. The sun was already dipping behind the treetops, staining the sky a dull crimson, as if foreshadowing tomorrow’s bloodshed.

  Each step felt heavier than the last.

  The city gates loomed ahead, cracked stone walls and tired guards silhouetted against the fading light. No one knew what was coming. No one suspected that by this time tomorrow, this place would be rubble and ash.

  “I guess I’m dying a second time tomorrow,” I murmured as I passed through the gates.

  Back in my rented inn room, the same cramped, moldy box with creaking boards and a bed that smelled faintly of mildew, I dropped my pack and collapsed onto the edge of the mattress.

  My body ached. My arms trembled. My head felt hollow.

  I let out a long breath… then froze.

  Something was wrong.

  Too quiet.

  My eyes widened as the realization hit me like a brick.

  “…Fuck.”

  I bolted upright.

  I hadn’t unsummoned my slime.

  I’d left it alone in the forest.

  A recorded monster wasn’t just a tool, it was mine. Connected to me. Vulnerable. And slimes, no matter how good their rating, were still prey to everything stronger than them.

  I dragged a hand down my face.

  “Of course I forgot,” I groaned. “Of course.”

  The thought gnawed at me. Maybe it was already gone. Devoured. Burned. Stepped on by something bigger.

  And if it was dead…

  Then my entire plan, my only investment, was gone before it even began.

  Outside, the city bells tolled for the night. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled, not from the sky, but from something far worse approaching.

  Tomorrow, the demons would come.

  And tonight… I might have already lost the only thing keeping me alive.

  =================

  A slime could eat anything.

  That was the one trait that defined the species across nearly every fantasy world. Flesh, bone, metal, mana, if it came into contact with a slime, it would eventually be consumed. Not out of hunger, nor malice, but instinct.

  They drifted. They touched. They devoured.

  And because they lacked intelligence, true intelligence, slimes didn’t choose what to eat or how to eat it. They consumed indiscriminately, slowly dissolving anything unfortunate enough to brush against them.

  That mindless nature was precisely why most people considered them pests.

  Slimes possessed a frightening potential. Every creature they consumed left behind magical residue, mana that could be absorbed and converted into strength. Given time, a slime could become something terrifying.

  But time alone wasn’t enough.

  They lacked the capacity to focus.

  To refine.

  To optimize.

  Their power leaked away through inefficiency, wasted on pointless movement and shallow digestion.

  But what if that changed?

  What if there existed a slime that could think?

  As one core after another was fed into it, the slime remained motionless.

  No wandering.

  No mindless hopping.

  It settled against the damp forest floor like a living vessel, its gelatinous body contracting subtly as it processed the foreign energy. Rather than dispersing the magical power through its entire mass, it pulled inward, compressing and condensing everything it absorbed.

  Every fragment of mana was refined.

  Every residue filtered.

  Nothing wasted.

  Time passed.

  The forest grew quiet, then restless.

  By the time the slime finished absorbing the last core, the sun had sunk beneath the horizon. Shadows stretched long between the trees as night claimed the land.

  With darkness came predators.

  Rustling leaves.

  Heavy wingbeats.

  A giant mantis, its chitinous body glimmering faintly under moonlight, dropped from a branch above. Its bladed forelimbs twitched as it landed directly atop the slime.

  For a heartbeat, nothing happened.

  Then-

  The slime exploded outward.

  Its body surged like liquid fire, latching onto the mantis in an instant. Gelatinous tendrils wrapped around chitin and joints, sealing every escape route.

  The mantis shrieked, an ear-piercing, metallic screech, as its limbs were dragged into the translucent mass. Its struggles only hastened the process.

  Flesh dissolved.

  Mana was stripped away.

  Resistance vanished.

  Within seconds, the mantis was gone.

  All that remained was the slime, larger now, denser, its core glowing faintly within its body like a watchful eye.

  For the first time since its creation…

  The slime moved with purpose.

  And somewhere far away, its Bookkeeper slept, unaware that his “failed investment” had just taken its first step toward something far more dangerous than a simple pest.

  The bell tore me from sleep.

  Its frantic ringing echoed across the city, sharp and desperate, an alarm meant for people who still believed they could escape.

  Demons were coming.

  I lay there staring at the cracked ceiling, my body heavy and unresponsive. I’d been too exhausted to leave the city last night. Too tired. Too slow. And now… it was too late.

  “So this is how I die again,” I muttered.

  Strangely, I felt calm. Maybe resignation dulled fear. Maybe part of me had already accepted that this story was never meant to be cleared.

  I pushed myself up, grabbed my sword, and staggered toward the door.

  “Might as well go out swinging.”

  Outside, the city had already collapsed into chaos.

  People screamed as they ran through the streets, trampling carts and each other alike. The sky above was filled with winged silhouettes, demons with gray skin and leathery bat wings, swooping low and hurling fireballs into rooftops just for the pleasure of watching them burn.

  The guards didn’t stand a chance.

  Men armed with spears thrust helplessly at flying enemies, only to be scorched alive moments later. Towers crumbled. Streets ignited. The air stank of smoke and fear.

  I stood there, useless.

  Then, movement caught my eye.

  Across the street, Giselle leapt from a rooftop, her blade flashing as she cleaved through a demon’s wing mid-flight. The creature shrieked as it crashed into a house, and she followed it down, driving her sword straight through its chest.

  The demon dissolved into ash.

  I blinked.

  “…Yeah. No.”

  That wasn’t bravery. That was experience. Rank. Power.

  I turned around and walked straight back into the inn.

  Inside, the innkeeper and her young daughter were crouched behind the counter, shaking. Their eyes snapped to me as I entered.

  Hiding made sense. You couldn’t outrun something that flew.

  I sat down at a nearby table, resting my sword against it, listening to the screams and explosions outside. Minutes blurred into hours. Every crash made the floor tremble. Every distant roar tightened my chest.

  Two hours passed.

  Then-BOOM.

  A fireball struck the upper floor.

  The inn shook violently. Glass shattered. Flames licked down the walls as people poured inside, desperate for shelter.

  Too many people.

  I felt it before I saw it.

  The wall exploded inward, stone and wood bursting apart as a gray demon smashed through, wings beating wildly as it landed inside the inn. Its claws scraped the floor as it hissed, eyes locking onto the nearest screaming victim.

  “Well,” I sighed as I stood, “it was bound to happen eventually.”

  I raised my sword, knowing full well it wouldn’t do anything.

  Then-

  Something moved.

  From behind me, tendrils lashed out, bladed at their tips, slicing through the demon like paper. Gray flesh tore apart in an instant, chunks hitting the walls with wet splats.

  The demon didn’t even have time to scream.

  I froze.

  From the shattered doorway crawled a familiar gelatinous mass, larger than before, darker, its core glowing like a steady heartbeat.

  “…My slime?”

  It moved differently now. Purposeful. Alert.

  Another demon dove through the broken roof, only to be ensnared mid-air, dragged down, and dissolved in seconds. Mana surged as the slime absorbed it, its body rippling with strength.

  People screamed again, but this time, in disbelief.

  “Stay back,” I whispered, unsure if it could even hear me.

  Then-

  The temperature dropped.

  A heavy presence pressed down on the room like an invisible weight.

  The remaining gray demons scattered, fleeing.

  And the wall melted.

  A red-skinned demon stepped through the flames.

  Taller. Broader. Horns curled back from its skull, and molten veins glowed beneath its skin. Its wings were intact, its eyes burning with intelligence and contempt.

  A higher-ranked demon.

  The slime reacted instantly, tendrils striking, blades flashing-

  But the red demon caught them.

  Its hand closed around the tendrils, and with a snarl, it ripped them apart, fire scorching the gelatinous flesh.

  The slime recoiled, body shaking.

  It attacked again. Faster. Stronger.

  The demon laughed.

  Flames erupted from its body, engulfing the slime entirely. The gelatinous mass hissed violently as its structure destabilized, core flickering erratically.

  “No!” I shouted, taking a step forward.

  The demon clenched its fist.

  The slime’s core cracked.

  With a final violent surge, the slime tried to envelop the demon, but its body disintegrated mid-motion, dissolving into motes of light that vanished into the air.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Gone.

  The red demon turned its burning gaze toward me.

  And I knew, with absolute certainty-

  I was next.

  The bell rang.

  The moment I heard it, I knew we were late.

  Its sound rolled across the city like a death sentence, deep, metallic, frantic. The kind of sound that didn’t warn you in time, only reminded you that you’d made the wrong choice staying here.

  Demons were already in the sky.

  I stood atop a stone building near the inner district, cloak snapping violently in the heated wind. Smoke rose from the outer ring of the city, black columns piercing the clouds as fireballs rained down like falling stars.

  Ruined World.

  Confirmed.

  I drew my sword.

  The familiar weight steadied me, grounding my thoughts. My grip tightened, muscles tensing as holy energy flowed quietly through my veins. Below me, the streets erupted into chaos, screaming civilians, collapsing stalls, guards breaking formation within seconds of first contact.

  Flying demons.

  Worst possible opening wave.

  “Zoey,” I muttered, opening my book with a thought.

  A faint glow rippled across the air.

  She answered immediately.

  “I see them,” Zoey’s voice came through, sharp and focused. “At least twenty airborne. Gray-skinned scouts. Two groups heading toward the market. One toward the southern gate.”

  “Philip?”

  A gust of wind howled past my left as Philip landed clumsily beside me, glasses crooked, chest already rising and falling too fast.

  “I-I’m here,” he said, gripping his staff. “There are civilians pinned near the apothecary. Wind barriers are holding… barely.”

  “Then that’s where we start.”

  I jumped.

  The drop was three stories.

  My enhanced strength absorbed the impact as I landed in the street, stone cracking beneath my boots. A demon swooped low, claws extended toward a fleeing man.

  I moved.

  One step.

  One slash.

  Holy light flared as my blade severed its wing at the joint. The demon shrieked, crashing into the ground where I finished it with a thrust through the chest.

  Ash scattered in the wind.

  No points for mercy.

  I spun as another demon dove toward me, fire already forming in its throat. I raised my sword, channeling holy magic into the blade.

  “Sanctified Edge.”

  The fireball split in two as my slash cleaved through it, and the demon behind it.

  More were coming.

  Always more.

  “Form up!” I shouted.

  Zoey burst through a collapsing alley wall, spear spinning as water coiled around its shaft like a living serpent. She thrust forward, the water extending her reach unnaturally, impaling a demon mid-air and yanking it down hard enough to crater the street.

  “Market district’s evacuating,” she said. “But panic’s slowing them.”

  Philip raised his staff, trembling slightly as wind surged outward, forming a rotating barrier that deflected falling debris and stray fireballs away from a cluster of civilians.

  “I-I can hold this!” he said. “But not if more come!”

  “Then we don’t let them,” I replied.

  I leapt again, using a burst of enhanced strength to propel myself upward. Mid-air, I twisted, sword glowing brilliantly as I met a demon head-on.

  Steel met claw.

  Holy magic burned through corrupted flesh, forcing it back. I landed on a rooftop, pivoted, and charged, slashing through two more demons before they could recover.

  Still, they kept coming.

  Gray demons were weak individually, but their numbers were overwhelming.

  And this was just the first wave.

  “Giselle!” Zoey shouted. “Red signatures, east side!”

  My stomach sank.

  Stronger demons already?

  Of course.

  Ruined Worlds never wasted time.

  “Philip,” I said, forcing my voice calm. “Wind support. Lift civilians where you can. Don’t overextend.”

  “Yes-yes, understood!”

  I sprinted across rooftops, leaping gaps as fire and screams filled the streets below. From the east, the air shimmered with heat, and then I saw them.

  Red-skinned demons.

  Larger. Smarter. Armored by natural heat-resistant scales.

  One of them landed in the middle of a fleeing crowd.

  It laughed.

  The sound was wet and cruel.

  I didn’t think.

  I dropped from above, driving my blade straight through its shoulder, holy light exploding outward. The demon roared, swinging backhandedly and sending me crashing through a wooden awning.

  Pain flared, but I rolled, came up, and blocked the follow-up strike.

  Zoey arrived seconds later, water magic surging into jagged ice spikes that slammed into the demon’s legs, freezing them in place.

  “Together!” she shouted.

  I nodded.

  Philip’s wind magic struck next, compressed air detonating against the demon’s head, staggering it long enough for me to finish the job.

  The demon fell.

  But the street was already burning.

  Civilians were trapped on all sides.

  I raised my sword again, exhaustion beginning to creep into my arms.

  “Move west!” I shouted to the crowd. “Follow the wind!”

  Philip redirected airflow, guiding people away from collapsing structures. Zoey stood at the rear, spear spinning defensively, water magic forming shields to block falling embers.

  For a moment, just a moment, it felt like we were winning.

  Then the sky darkened.

  A massive shadow passed overhead.

  I looked up.

  And my breath caught.

  A towering red demon descended slowly, wings spread wide, heat radiating off it in visible waves. Its eyes burned with intelligence, and amusement.

  A commander.

  The battlefield froze.

  Even the lesser demons hesitated.

  “This is bad,” Philip whispered.

  I tightened my grip on my sword.

  “Protect the civilians,” I said. “No matter what.”

  The commander demon smiled, and raised its hand.

  Flames erupted across the city.

  Not targeted.

  Not precise.

  Just destruction.

  Buildings collapsed. Streets vanished. Screams were cut short mid-sound.

  I charged.

  Every step burned.

  The commander noticed me immediately.

  “Interesting,” it rumbled. “A blessed blade… in a dying world.”

  It met me head-on.

  The impact sent shockwaves rippling through the street. I was flung back, skidding across stone until I slammed into a wall hard enough to crack it.

  Pain screamed through my ribs.

  I forced myself up.

  Holy magic surged, thin, strained, but still there.

  Zoey attacked from the side, water spiraling into a high-pressure lance aimed straight at the demon’s neck.

  The demon caught it.

  Steam exploded outward as it evaporated.

  Zoey barely dodged the counterattack.

  Philip screamed as he forced a gale strong enough to knock civilians clear of falling debris, but it left him exposed.

  A demon dove for him.

  I intercepted, blade flashing.

  Too slow.

  The demon’s claw grazed Philip’s shoulder, drawing blood.

  He cried out but stayed standing.

  “I-I’m fine!”

  Liar.

  We were being overwhelmed.

  This city was already lost.

  I knew it.

  They knew it.

  But civilians were still alive.

  Still running.

  Still hoping.

  And as long as that was true.

  I wouldn’t stop.

  I raised my sword one final time, holy magic blazing brighter than it had all day.

  “Then come,” I whispered to the demons. “I’ll buy them time.”

  And I charged back into the fire.

  Pain came first.

  A slow, pounding ache throbbed behind my eyes, each heartbeat sending another spike through my skull. I sucked in a sharp breath and immediately regretted it, my chest tightened, lungs burning as if I’d inhaled smoke for hours.

  My eyes fluttered open.

  Iron bars filled my vision.

  For a moment, I thought I was still dreaming. The world swam, shadows bleeding into one another under a dull crimson glow. Then the cold bit into my palms as I shifted, metal scraping loudly beneath my weight.

  A cage.

  Reality crashed down on me all at once.

  I groaned and lifted a trembling hand to my head. My fingers came away wet. Blood had dried along the side of my face, crusted in my hair. Whatever hit me had done it cleanly, I couldn’t remember the impact at all.

  The last thing I recalled was standing in the inn… resigning myself to death.

  So much for that.

  I forced myself upright, ignoring the protest of my muscles, and took in my surroundings.

  The cage was massive, forged from thick black iron etched with glowing red runes that pulsed faintly, like embers buried beneath ash. The floor beneath us was solid stone, worn smooth and stained dark in places that made my stomach churn.

  I wasn’t alone.

  Dozens of people were packed into the cage with me, men and women, merchants, guards, villagers. Some leaned weakly against the bars. Others sat in stunned silence, eyes hollow. A few were unconscious, breathing shallowly.

  Civilians.

  Captured.

  A low murmur of fear rippled through the cage as others noticed I was awake.

  Beyond the bars stretched a vast chamber carved entirely from black stone. Thick pillars rose toward a ceiling lost in shadow, chains hanging from them like grotesque decorations. Crimson braziers lined the walls, bathing the dungeon in an oppressive red glow.

  Demons patrolled the hall.

  Gray-skinned ones moved lazily, wings folded, spears resting against their shoulders. Red-skinned demons stood farther back, armored and alert, eyes sharp with cruel intelligence.

  This wasn’t a prison meant for long stays.

  It was a holding pen.

  My stomach twisted.

  “So this is the demon castle…” I muttered.

  A quiet sob sounded nearby. I turned to see a woman clutching a child close to her chest, whispering prayers through trembling lips. No one tried to comfort her. No one had the strength.

  I clenched my fists.

  Slowly, carefully, I summoned my book.

  The white cover materialized in my hands, its single metallic star still intact. Relief washed through me when it didn’t shatter or flicker. I flipped through the pages, heart pounding as I reached the familiar entry.

  Slime - Status: Dormant (Recovery)

  Condition: Severe damage

  Return Trigger: Emergency Recall

  I exhaled shakily.

  “You’re alive…”

  The page pulsed faintly, as if responding.

  The slime hadn’t died. When it took that hit, from a stronger demon, I guessed, it had instinctively retreated, returning to my book to recover. Just like Giselle said recorded creatures could do.

  That alone might have saved my sanity.

  A heavy thud echoed through the chamber.

  Then another.

  Footsteps.

  The sound was slow. Deliberate.

  The demons nearby straightened as a massive figure emerged from the shadows. A red-skinned demon twice the size of the others stepped into the brazier light, horns curving back along its skull, eyes burning like coals.

  Its gaze swept across the cages.

  When it stopped on me, I felt it.

  A pressure, like my bones were being weighed.

  “This one is awake,” the demon rumbled.

  Its lips curled into something like amusement.

  “Interesting,” it continued. “He should be broken.”

  I swallowed, forcing myself to meet its gaze.

  The demon tilted its head slightly, studying me the way one might examine an insect pinned to a board.

  “Bring him later,” it said at last. “The master will want to see this one.”

  My blood ran cold.

  The demon turned away, the sound of chains dragging behind it as it disappeared deeper into the castle.

  I sank back against the bars, heart hammering.

  I was alive.

  My slime was alive.

  But I was trapped in the heart of enemy territory, surrounded by demons, powerless and injured.

  And whatever had taken an interest in me…

  That was far worse than dying in the city.

  I lost track of time in the demon prison.

  There were no windows. No natural light. Only the dull crimson glow of the runes etched into the bars of my cell and the slow, oppressive heat that never faded. The air tasted like iron and ash, and every breath felt heavier than the last.

  Hours passed, or maybe minutes. It was impossible to tell.

  I sat with my back against the bars, knees pulled to my chest, conserving strength. Around me, other prisoners whispered prayers, cried quietly, or simply stared into nothing. Some had already stopped moving altogether.

  I didn’t let myself think about them.

  I focused inward.

  On my book.

  At first, there had been nothing. Just a faint, distant sensation, like holding your hand near a dying ember. But slowly, gradually, that sensation grew stronger.

  Then.

  There.

  A pulse.

  I stiffened.

  The connection sharpened, flowing up my spine and settling behind my sternum. It was subtle, but unmistakable. Familiar in a way nothing else in this world was.

  My slime.

  I swallowed hard and summoned my book as discreetly as I could, angling it away from the bars. The white cover shimmered into existence, its single metallic star catching the dim red light.

  I flipped to the page.

  Slime

  Rank: Iron

  Rating: 10

  Status: Recovered

  A shaky breath escaped me.

  “You made it,” I whispered.

  The page pulsed softly, almost warmly, as if answering.

  The slime had survived.

  After being torn apart by that red demon, after shielding me from a killing blow, it had done exactly what recorded creatures were meant to do, it retreated, compressing itself into pure recorded data, returning to my book to heal.

  Relief washed over me so hard my vision blurred.

  But relief didn’t mean safety.

  I lifted my head and looked beyond the bars.

  Across the dungeon, several demons stood near a massive hole carved into the stone floor. It wasn’t a natural pit, it was too clean, too deliberate. Chains and iron rails surrounded it, and the heat rising from within made the air shimmer.

  One by one, demons dragged monster corpses toward the edge and threw them in.

  A mantis-like creature. A horned wolf. A massive, half-burned ogre.

  They disappeared into the darkness below with wet, echoing thuds.

  My heart began to pound.

  Food.

  Not for demons.

  For my slime.

  Slimes devoured anything they touched. Flesh. Bone. Mana. They were inefficient, mindless creatures, unless guided.

  Unless recorded.

  If my slime could devour everything down there…

  It wouldn’t just recover.

  It would grow.

  The thought was terrifying.

  And hopeful.

  I glanced at the guards. Gray demons mostly. One red demon overseeing them, arms crossed, eyes bored.

  No one was watching the hole closely.

  Slowly, carefully, I pressed my palm against the book.

  “Go,” I whispered.

  The slime emerged silently, compressing itself down to the size of a marble, its translucent body barely visible against the stone floor. It slipped between the bars, moving with surprising speed, hugging shadows, avoiding torchlight.

  I watched it reach the edge of the pit.

  Then it dropped.

  “Please,” I breathed. “Hurry.”

  Time stretched painfully after that.

  Every footstep made my muscles tense. Every shout from a demon made my heart leap into my throat. But no alarm was raised. No one noticed.

  Minutes passed.

  Then more.

  The connection between me and the slime grew stronger. Warmer. Heavier. Like a growing weight pulling at my consciousness.

  It was feeding.

  Devouring raw mana, monster flesh, corrupted cores.

  I could feel it, feel the slime straining, adapting, forcing itself to process everything it consumed. Unlike a normal slime, it wasn’t dissolving everything mindlessly. It was focusing.

  Choosing.

  Learning.

  Then the dungeon doors opened.

  The sound was unmistakable, heavy iron grinding against stone.

  Demons poured in.

  “Take them out,” one of them barked. “One by one.”

  Panic exploded through the cages.

  Prisoners screamed as cells were opened, people dragged out kicking and crying. Some were struck down on the spot when they resisted too much.

  A red demon approached my cell.

  It stopped in front of me.

  Its eyes narrowed.

  “This one,” it said. “The master wants to see you.”

  My blood ran cold.

  The demon reached for the lock.

  That was when the ground moved.

  Stone cracked.

  A wet, tearing sound echoed through the dungeon.

  Then-

  Tendrils burst from the floor.

  They erupted violently, ripping through stone as if it were paper. Thick, translucent limbs tipped with gleaming blades lashed outward, impaling demons mid-shout.

  Gray demons were shredded instantly.

  One tendril flattened into a hammer-like shape and crushed another against a pillar. Another split into jagged claws, tearing wings apart.

  The dungeon descended into chaos.

  Screams, demonic screams, filled the air.

  “What?!” a demon roared before being dragged screaming into the pit.

  My cell door flew open as the red demon staggered back, momentarily distracted.

  I didn’t hesitate.

  I lunged.

  My kick slammed into its knee with everything I had.

  It barely budged.

  Pain shot up my leg.

  The demon snarled and turned toward me.

  Only for a bladed tendril to spear through its folded wing and yank it backward with brutal force. The demon roared, claws scraping uselessly against the stone as it was dragged screaming toward the hole.

  The slime emerged.

  It wasn’t a slime anymore.

  Its body had grown larger, denser, its translucent form now threaded with dark veins of mana. Tendrils extended and retracted constantly, reshaping themselves into weapons, adapting on the fly.

  It was intelligent.

  Hungry.

  And furious.

  I stared in awe and terror as it tore through the dungeon, dismantling demons with horrifying efficiency.

  “This…” I whispered. “This is possible?”

  The slime surged forward, crushing the bars of nearby cells, freeing prisoners unintentionally as it hunted. Stone shattered. Iron warped.

  But then-

  The air changed.

  The dungeon went silent.

  Heat flooded the chamber, so intense it stole my breath. The slime froze mid-motion, tendrils retracting instinctively.

  A presence descended.

  The floor cracked as something landed.

  Slow. Heavy.

  Oppressive.

  A towering figure stepped forward from the shadows.

  The demon lord.

  He was massive, easily three times the height of the red demons. His skin was a deep crimson-black, etched with glowing runes that pulsed like a heartbeat. Horns curved upward from his skull like a crown, and his eyes-

  His eyes burned.

  The slime struck first.

  Tendrils lashed out, blades slicing toward the demon lord’s torso.

  They evaporated mid-air.

  The demon lord raised a single hand.

  The slime was slammed into the ground as if crushed by an invisible mountain. Stone exploded outward. The tendrils shattered.

  “Interesting,” the demon lord said calmly. “A creature with self-directed evolution.”

  He stepped forward.

  The slime tried to rise.

  It failed.

  “Enough,” the demon lord said.

  Power surged.

  The slime screamed, not audibly, but through the bond. Pain flooded my mind as its form destabilized, mana unraveling violently.

  “Return,” I shouted desperately. “Come back!”

  The slime dissolved into light, forced back into my book as the demon lord’s power crushed it beyond what it could sustain.

  I collapsed to my knees, gasping.

  The dungeon was silent again.

  The demon lord turned his gaze on me.

  “So,” he said. “You’re the anomaly.”

  I met his eyes.

  And knew, without a doubt-

  I had just declared war.