《Spookshifted》


 [Ch. 1] - A Rough Start

    I¡¯m jolted awake by a sensation of falling, right in time for me to impact the ground. Stunned, I lay there in silence for a few moments.


    At first, I thought I¡¯d fallen out of bed during my slumber, but that doesn¡¯t seem to be the case here.


    Immediately, a whole slew of complications make themselves apparent. First, of course, is the most obvious: my vision is tinted a light purple hue and expanded into a sphere of coverage. I can¡¯t even shut my eyes to make it go away! It shifts and distorts as I change my focus and gather my surroundings.


    I instead appear to be in a cave or dug-out chamber of rough-hewn construction, every surface what looks to be a dull purple stone. The ceiling is obscured by shifting shadows, reflecting a glistening sheen occasionally as something moves about up there. Along the far wall is a hole, the source of the light glinting off of the ceiling. The exit, perhaps?


    Around me are the obligatory cave stalagmites, many of which have been stained by splatters of something wet and viscous. In this dimness, that¡¯s all I can discern.


    I quickly realize that when I focus on something, the surrounding world blurs while the object becomes clear. When I stop focusing, the world becomes sharper again, but not as clear as when I concentrate.


    I don¡¯t remember my eyes working like this before, which leads me to my next little problem.


    Which is that I can¡¯t remember how I got here. Excitement, maybe, impressions of animals¡­ Something¡­ I think something went wrong, very wrong. There was screaming between flashes of strange lights, and I wasn¡¯t the only one screaming.


    My memories from before then are suspiciously absent.


    I remember that I had family and that we had conflicts. I had friends, a job, and a social life, but I can¡¯t remember anything about them beyond the knowledge that I had them. I can¡¯t seem to make myself care about losing them.


    Little remains of my personal life beyond some generalized knowledge about the world. Mostly small things, like how I know what eyeglasses are, and that I used to wear them.


    Moving to sit myself up, I find that my sight stretches upwards and out. Reaching to rub my eyes, nothing happens. I try again, and again, and again: nothing!


    Confused, I struggle to feel my limbs at all. No response from arms and legs in the slightest. Either they¡¯re missing, or that fall broke my back something real fierce. Have I become an invalid now?


    Logically, I know I should be panicking and terrified, or at minimum, I should probably be at least a little concerned. Instead, I feel fine, I feel great, even! No discomfort, no pain. Normal, calm, even, if maybe a tad famished. Under me, I can feel the chill of the stone, while a slight draft hits my naked body, causing me to shiver.


    Wait, naked?


    I look down at my body, expecting to see familiar human skin and limbs. Instead, I find naught but a dripping gelatinous mass below me.


    Shocked, I throw myself backward, and the stuff follows me. I feel how the mass flows, the way it moves across the stone floor. Gooey blobs separate from me and rejoin again, collecting into a puddle under me. I guess this explains why I couldn¡¯t feel my arms earlier, as it appears that I don¡¯t even have them anymore.


    This¡­ this is my body, this strange semi-transparent and gooey substance. Either it¡¯s the same color as the tint overlaying my vision, or the world really is just that purple. My movement and body feel entirely natural, with no jarring disconnect from my sense of self.


    As I stare at my gelatinous form, I can''t help but feel a mixture of fascination and horror. It''s disorienting to no longer have a solid body, to be something that oozes and flows instead of being confined to a solid form.


    I¡­ I think I know what¡¯s happened to me now.


    It¡¯s one of the few things left in my memory, the basics of the knowledge of the relentless force of Unreality, that which is the source of magic and phenomenon.


    I must have been unlucky enough to have been caught up in a surge of it, turning me into this amorphous slimy thing. Which¡­ doesn¡¯t sound bad at all, if I¡¯m being honest?


    There is little that is interesting in this cave, just me and that light in the distance. Having nothing more to do here, I might as well investigate where I am.


    The next steps will be, of course, to secure food, shelter, and water, and hope like hell that there¡¯s nobody around who might consider me easy pickings. Or worse, a threat, and they¡¯ll preemptively take me out before I even have a chance to get acquainted with this new body of mine.


    I feel a surge of hunger in my core, reminding me of my famished state. Right. First things first. I need to go out looking for something to eat, and then, figure out how to eat it.


    As I approach what is presumably an exit, I begin to pick up an interesting scent, leading me to wonder how I¡¯m smelling. I don¡¯t worry overly much about it, because whatever this smell is, it¡¯s making me hungrier the closer I get to it.


    By the time I enter what I find to be daylight, I am practically drooling in anticipation. Taking a moment to adjust to the sudden lack of darkness, I look around me, hoping to identify the source of that intoxicating scent.


    It doesn¡¯t take long at all for me to locate where the smell is coming from, and I can¡¯t help but feel shocked when I finally spot it, halting me in my tracks.


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    The corpse of a deer lay there, putrefaction well underway, clearly the source of the scent I¡¯ve been following. Flies buzz around the body, and maggots squirm under its tattered hide. I should feel, at minimum, at least a little disgusted, but all I can think about is how much I want to sink my teeth into it.


    My hunger grows worse with each passing second, not helped in the slightest by the aroma emanating from the bloated and decayed animal.


    I don¡¯t want to, not at first. But with my hunger growing by the second, I¡¯m feeling myself getting loopier and loopier and loopier and¡­


    Unable to hold back and resist the siren call of the glorious feast in front of me, I let myself go nearer to it. Guided by my body¡¯s hunger, I flow over the rotting remains of the deer¡¯s skull, wrapping around it. At my touch, it begins to fizz and sizzle, and before I even realize how I¡¯m doing it, I¡¯ve already begun to dissolve the corpse.


    The sudden influx of flavor distracts me enough from the fact that I¡¯m eating something that, by all rights, shouldn¡¯t be nearly this appetizing, and I lose myself in those sensations. I burrow into the corpse, and find myself entering an absolute smorgasbord of deliciousness!


    Worms and maggots add texture and a pop of nutty smokiness to the oozing remains, and I eagerly dissolve them as well. They wriggle and squirm inside of me, and I revel in the sensation for the moments each one lasts before it vanishes.


    And the flavor! I take my time with it to be sure to savor it as fully as possible. Unbelievably, the stuff has a sweet and fruity accent, and I eagerly dig in.


    By the time I remember what it is that I¡¯m eating, the whole thing has vanished. Not just scoured to the bones, either, because I think I ate those too!


    All that remains is the indent in the grass where it had been until I¡¯d come across it. That, and the splashes of dark red soaked into the soil as I was enjoying my macabre meal.


    Disappointed it¡¯s gone, I look around, hoping to find more delectable tidbits of rotted offal. It hits me then, just exactly what I¡¯ve been eating, but I¡¯m not disgusted. I even find myself fantasizing about it, hoping that I¡¯d missed some just so that I could revel in that amazing flavor again.


    Only mildly unnerved by my behavior, but feeling much better now, I look around at my surroundings. As I had suspected, the light led outside the cave. I¡¯m in a forest, I note. Unfortunately, this doesn¡¯t exactly narrow things down much. For all I know, this could be a forest on another planet entirely!


    I don¡¯t think I am on an alien planet, though, as everything is still recognizable Earth vegetation. Mostly birch and evergreen trees surround me, and I even spot the occasional cedar and elm.


    Huh? Did I used to be some sort of plant nerd or something? How do I know what various species of trees are, but I can¡¯t even recall a single thing about my own face?


    For now, I choose to go with the assumption that I am still on Earth, that I haven¡¯t died and been reincarnated as an alien or something silly like that when I wasn¡¯t looking.


    I mean, I¡¯m not exactly ruling it out, due to the whole ¡°unexplainable phenomenon¡± bit re: Unreality, but it¡¯s all I¡¯ve got for now. So, until proven otherwise, that¡¯s just what I¡¯m going with.


    First things first, I need to focus on survival. Food, water, shelter. I just ate, despite the gruesome nature of my meal, so I¡¯m good on that front for now. Water? There¡¯s none in my immediate surroundings that I can tell. And as for shelter¡­ if there¡¯s anything I remember about the wilderness, it¡¯s that there¡¯s a reason people live in cities and not in the middle of nowhere. You know, because of all the man-eating monsters out¡­ there¡­


    Where I am.


    With the monsters.


    You know, on second thought, maybe I¡¯m safer in the cave!


    Okay, new plan! Instead of building a little lean-to out of sticks and logs, as I¡¯d originally planned, I¡¯ll just ¡°borrow¡± this cave for a while. Maybe barricade it or something, I don¡¯t know. I¡¯ll figure something out.


    Hopefully, nobody else is using it or wants to take it from me.


    Speaking of building things, I need to figure out something about this whole ¡°no-limbs¡± situation I¡¯ve got going on here. Now that I¡¯m actually in the daylight (around noon, I¡¯d say), I can see myself much more clearly.


    Purple really does seem to be the color of this new semi-transparent body of mine, now that I¡¯m getting a better look at it. If someone were to ask me to put a label on exactly which shade of purple I am, I would put it more on the lighter and more lavender or lilac side of purple than any kind of darker grape or eggplant.


    As for my little problem at hand, I think I¡¯ve got an idea about how to fix that. See, before, I was under the impression that I still had arms, and thus, was attempting to activate muscle groups that I apparently no longer have.


    Yet, I¡¯ve been moving around just fine without legs, without muscles and a skeletal system. Not a bone in my body, as far as I¡¯m aware. So what¡¯s the difference between this and that? The key, like with walking, is to NOT think about it.


    Surprisingly, this works! It¡¯s fairly crude, yes, but it works! It¡¯s an extremely rough approximation of a hand that extends out from me, sure, a sort of pseudopod, if you will, but it works! Flexing my new limbs¡¯ nubby little digits, I marvel at them, which is when I notice something fascinatingly bizarre.


    Namely, that I can see from my ¡®hand¡¯ just as well as from my ¡®face¡¯. In apostrophes, because I¡¯ve just found out I don¡¯t even have a face! I¡¯m just a pile of featureless purple slime! Well, that¡¯s not quite true, there¡¯s also this weird star-shaped gem-looking thing at the core of myself. It¡¯s a silvery white color, cut in the shape of a five-pointed star.


    I have no idea how that got there, but there¡¯s no way I¡¯m touching what might end up being a vital organ. I don¡¯t even know what it¡¯s supposed to do, so I won¡¯t bother touching it, and just leave it at that.


    I can feel it spinning in there sometimes when I get deep in thought, though. I play with my freaky new vision for a little while, turning my ¡®hand¡¯ this way and that way and generally trying to get a feel for the new sensations.


    Shaking my ¡®head¡¯ to clear it, I start to collect rocks and small logs to put together a campfire circle. Might as well get one of these ready to go before the sun goes down, you know?


    Lighting it, on the other hand, might be a bit of a challenge with these sticky gooey fingers of mine.


    Eh, I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll figure out something to do about the lack of heat at night around here. Caves are usually fairly consistent in temperature all year round, which makes them perfect as a base of operations.


    A low growl in the forest has me fleeing for the relative safety of the dark cave. I peek out from the entrance and attempt to do my best to return a glare of my own to the forest out there.


    This¡­ Yeah, this might take me a while.

 [Ch. 2] - Exploration and Realization

    [Who: Nameless Slime]


    [Where: Forest Clearing, Cave Adjacent, Rocky Hill in the Woods]


    [When: Somewhere around mid-afternoon, maybe?]


    I look at my pitiful stack of stones and sigh internally. Now, I may not remember much, but I¡¯m pretty sure even a toddler would be at least twice my strength. Most of the sticks and stones I could find were out of my ability to do much more than roll or drag around, and even then that was iffy. Turns out, don¡¯t have much in the way of grip strength either!


    Stupid slime fingers! Useless for grabbing things! Out of anger, I launch multiple pseudopods at a nearby tree, gripping tightly onto the bark when my limbs make contact with it. Pouring my will into my desires, the tree rapidly melts and falls apart where my slime meets it.


    I want to shout, to scream and vent my frustrations to the world, but as I quickly discover, I can¡¯t even do that much! Instead, this little act of destruction will have to do the job for me. I know I don¡¯t have any lungs; I checked, using my weird handy dandy hand-vision. In my self-reflection, I can see that they¡¯ve just got semi-translucent slime stuff and that weird star in their middle. Not even eyes, which makes how this one is seeing themself a real mystery.


    Yes, I said ¡®their¡¯. Whatever parts this one used to have, they¡¯re not there anymore, nor could I sense anything analogous. Since I didn¡¯t really feel like either of the two main options I could remember fit this new me, either, ¡®no thank you¡¯ it is. Frankly, it¡¯s a relief not to have to worry about that stuff anymore, actually.


    Neutral of gender, indeterminate of sex. That¡¯s me.


    Well sod this, I tell myself, and I plop myself down right there, determined to at least try to learn to speak. It¡¯s my own bleepin¡¯ body, and it will do what I gods-damned want it to do!


    Oh hey, apparently there are gods, according to my half-baked memory. Or at least believed more than one exists.


    Two hours later, I had yet to make any progress on anything. Not with my firepit, not with attempts to speak, and definitely not with finding any water or people.


    The best I¡¯d gotten was close to just jiggling my body as fast as I could, creating some sort of wobbly noise or trapping some air and shaking that really fast. I glurbled and jiggled and sloshed around, hoping for inspiration of any kind. It would take a LOT of practice to get any sort of dexterity with it, and to top things off, I no longer had a mouth, a tongue, or even vocal cords!


    Being able to vocalize meant that I would have to figure out how to speak all over again, an endeavor that could take who knows how long just to pronounce basic phonemes.


    On the plus side of things, just by faffing about, I¡¯d learned quite a bit about myself, and how to use my new body. Seeing as this was looking to be my new reality, getting acquainted with my functions was only the smart thing to do. Moving my slime about, thickening or thinning it, and generally squishing myself into all sorts of shapes, I experimented and learned. The fluid dynamics of myself are fascinating, to say the least.


    Raising my mass upwards in my version of standing up, I dust myself off as best as possible, only splattering myself in the process. ¡°Glrugrglrurg,¡± I sigh, releasing trapped air bubbles. No shortage of that around here, and all my sloshing about gets all those bubbles around everywhere inside of me. They¡¯ll randomly gurgle out from time to time as I move about.


    Maaaaan¡­ This place sucks! I can¡¯t see for squat or even talk right, and I¡¯m starting to feel the bite of hunger again from all that effort.


    Urges rise up in me, deep-seated instincts of my new body whispering its desires, telling me what I needed to do. To seek energy. Well, duh, of course, energy is important.


    But what gives energy to slime? Only one way to find out, and that¡¯s experimentation! Always an important part of any story of a person suddenly finding themselves in a new and unfamiliar body, though mostly expository in nature. Another one of those half-remembered tidbits¡­ Super boring stuff to hear about, but then again, it¡¯s pretty boring on this end too, if you can imagine that.


    See, for most creatures, like your humble narrating slime here, obtaining food is mostly a waiting game. Waiting for food to come your way, whether you seek it out or whether you wait in ambush, it¡¯s all waiting either way.


    Take this critter here, running over this way. Some little winged mouse-like thing, totally unaware of its impending doom. A web of thinly stretched slime traps it in its sticky threads, engulfing the poor critter. Without hesitation, urged on by instincts, it¡¯s dissolved alive.


    Alive, and aware, exactly as planned. Cruel? Nay, for this slime¡¯s a predator slime, and they¡¯ve gotta get used to being a predator if they¡¯re gonna wanna survive!


    Layer by layer, the poor thing trapped inside is stripped to the bone, struggling still to the very end, even as the muscles dissolve. YES! A shudder of ecstasy, encouraged by the twitching of the food inside.


    OH GODS! IS¡¯SO GOOD! MM! Cheesy goodness, get in here! YES! MORE! MORE! MORE! Is that cheddar? No, it¡¯s got a little fiery kick to it¡­ ah! Extra-sharp cheddar and pepperjack cheese! Fluffy white bread, grilled to perfection using mayonnaise, even? HAHA YESMORE MMYES!


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    The slices of ham add some much-needed juicy saltiness, oh so perfectly fried¡­ bread is crunchy on the outside, with soft and chewy innards.


    NEED MORE! ALL GoNE neEED MOrE! hUnt feeEd hunt feed hunt feed hunt


    Huhn¡­ huh feed? Wuh? What happened to the cheese sandwich I was just chowing down on? It went¡­ it went¡­


    Oh wait, that¡¯s right, I ate it! I giggle, er, gurgle uncontrollably, and collapse into a puddle on the ground. I¡¯d done it! Caught and consumed my first meal in this new body, all by myself, and it was AWESOME! Another rustle in the bushes alerts me of my next meal, the sound waves vibrating against my entire body.


    Kinda like I¡¯m a giant tuning fork or something, interpreting the vibrations of my body into recognizable sounds. Wonder what¡¯s doing the interpreting, because as far as I can tell, I¡¯m just slime and that weird crystal that I¡¯m terrified to think about. Why should I be so terrified of something that¡¯s a part of me?


    No¡­ Not terrified¡­ I think I¡¯m¡­ protective? Getting rid of it would be REALLY bad, I feel. Examining it using my internal awareness of myself, I find that my slime is densest there. Beginning to suspect that this gem might be REALLY important because bringing it closer to my surface fills me with dread and anxiety.


    With relief, I send it back to the center of my mass and just let it do its thing. That¡¯s probably my nucleus, or control center, or brain, or whatever it is that contains my entire essence and allows me to inhabit and control this awesome new slime body. It¡¯d probably be a good idea to get that thing protected as best as I can, honestly. The thought of it becoming damaged fills me with terror, the source of the fear I sense when I focus on it.


    For the sake of simplicity, I¡¯m just gonna call this little star gem, about the size of a pool cue ball, my ¡®core¡¯. To protect it, I¡¯ve hidden it high in the branches, the rest of me stretched into a hastily improvised net. My control near the far edges becomes less dextrous the more distant my slime gets.


    Not that I have much dexterity in the first place.


    And these little winged rodents, another one of which is headed to the trap that is me, I¡¯m gonna call ¡®em¡­ flight-mice! Just a little personal joke, because I think they¡¯re actually flightless, the wings being mostly vestigial. Possibly. My only experience with them is as dinner, so I only have what I¡¯m learning from dissolving this next one, layer by layer.


    It¡¯s a lot of hard work to keep focused, especially when it tastes so bleepin¡¯ delicious! This one is boxed dinner macaroni and cheese, for example. Not great, but not terrible.


    I keep at it, occasionally changing locations to not alert the little flight-mice of their impending doom. These guys are all over the place, and they ALL taste like various cheeses or cheese-focused dishes. Yum!


    Maybe there¡¯s a nest or a colony of them nearby. Ah well, more for me!


    I get a sudden urge to go back to the cave. Ha ha, no can do, mysterious pull on my consciousness! Busy catching food! With each flight-mouse I catch, I can feel myself grow ever so slightly stronger, my mass increasing proportionally to my meal. It¡¯s nice to be able to replenish what I lose when I move about, you know?


    As the afternoon stretches into the evening, I keep turning my focus toward the cave, and a feeling of dread builds up inside of me. What happens if I stay out into the night? Surely it can¡¯t be bad for me, right?


    Shrugging off my worries, I wander further and further out into the forest, finding interesting plants here and there. I get about five hundred meters away from the entrance of the cave when I splatter against an invisible wall.


    Or at least, that¡¯s what it feels like to me. A solid barrier blocks me from progressing any further, flattening me against the air as I impact it at top slime speed. Dark hexagons flash in the air around me for a brief moment, and the next moment I¡¯m thrown backward at the same velocity at which I¡¯d hit it.


    A reflective barrier? What? What is this? I ooze along the invisible wall, hexagons lighting up as I touch them. Tracing the walls of the barrier, I find that it¡¯s roughly spherical, and I seem to be on the inside of a dome of some repellent force. The walls seemingly stretch on into the distance, curving in the direction of the cave, whose direction I seem to be constantly aware of at all times.


    Who put this here? Who dares stop me, the mighty¡­ Uh¡­ The Mighty¡­ Slimy Me?


    Man, I can¡¯t call myself that! I need a real name! I don¡¯t wanna call myself something silly like Steve or Slimon though or¡­ Stephanie or Slimantha.


    I¡¯m better than that.


    Yank!


    This time, the tugging alert on my consciousness causes me to jerk hard in the direction of the cave, interrupting my investigations into how completely this barrier surrounds me and the place where I woke up earlier.


    Yank! Yank!


    YANK!


    Argh! Alright already! You¡¯ve made your point! Clearly, something wants me back there, and if it¡¯s not some weird new quirk about me being a slime thing, I¡¯m gonna be really upset but ultimately do nothing much because, let¡¯s be real here, I was basically just born today.


    Finding the invisible barrier to be totally impenetrable to even my dissolving, I disappointedly head back, catching a couple cheesy flight-mice snacks along the way. The pull lessens the closer I get to the cave, and I swear I feel a faint sigh of relief ¡®behind¡¯ me when the clearing comes into view. Of course, with my three-sixty vision, I see nothing there.


    A chill passes through me, and I remember the time. Honestly, spending the night inside the cave sounds like a better idea than in a lean-to outside the cave.


    Looking closer, it¡¯s not the worst place to call home. My urge to go inside intensifies, and I give one last look at the now-night sky. The stars are coming out in force, and one patch in particular stands out to me.


    Glowing and luminous in reds and purples, a nebula, a cloud of luminous interstellar gasses, blocks a sizable portion of the vaguely familiar Milky Way galaxy. Another of my few remaining memories, I suppose. If I recall them correctly, nebulas are known as ¡°star factories¡±, the ovens in which new stars are baked. Fascinated by the sight, I extend a pseudopod and examine myself at the same time.


    Star core¡­ glittering birth and rebirth¡­ purple¡­ amorphous and shifting nature¡­ That¡¯s it! I know what I¡¯ll call myself!


    Nebula!


    Perfection, if I do say so myself.


    ¡®Nodding¡¯ in satisfaction, I return to my cozy little cave for the night.

 [Ch. 3] - Friendly Discovery

    Who: Nebula, a slime]


    [Where: Cozy Boring Old Cave]


    [When: It¡¯s dark¡­]


    The entrance to this cave is super weird. It¡¯s vaguely rectangular, and the grayish stones bordering it are a bit too blocky for my tastes. Maybe it¡¯s an old ruin or other structure? Or maybe it¡¯s just a regular ol¡¯ cave and that¡¯s just how caves look now, I don¡¯t know!?


    Entering the cave, I find my dark vision to have increased substantially. Maybe eating cheese improves vision?


    Hah, I kid, I kid. It¡¯s carrots that are supposed to improve your vision.


    Besides, it was live mice that I¡¯d been eating, little mice with wings. My thoughts go back to their succulence, how I¡¯ve had my fill of the cheesy little critters, filling my energy reserves. I even feel a little overfull, if that even makes sense. The stuff is practically sloshing away, much like my beautiful slimy body.


    For now, I feel myself compelled to remain in the cave. Each time the thought of leaving enters my mind, jitters run through me. Impressions whisper to me, warning me of the dangers outside the cavern entrance, urging me to stay away.


    Fine then! I¡¯ll go deeper, since clearly going out is not an option!


    As I pass the stalagmites, I note how a faint grid pattern is etched into the stone, their previous purple-gray color now a purple-reddish-gray, heavy on the gray. The splatters on them are still there, yet even with this improved dark sight, they¡¯re still indistinct dark splotches to me. Darker than my lovely slime, that¡¯s for sure.


    Even with this improvement in my vision, I still can¡¯t quite tell what¡¯s going on with the shadows up there on the ceiling.


    A compulsion urges me to delve deeper, the desire to do so not entirely my own. I don¡¯t argue with it; the curiosity burning within me helps to push me onwards.


    The deeper I go, the less natural the cave begins to feel. More artificial, if that makes sense. Like a natural formation had been co-opted by something that was overwriting the original.


    The cave¡¯s passages narrow, the stone reddens, and the walls flatten, the grid-like pattern becoming more and more prominent until finally breaking out into fully developed red bricks. No longer a cave tunnel, its structure has been clearly defined as a hallway.


    There¡¯s even half-formed doors every so often. The hallways wend and wind, occasionally branching off into pathways that my compulsion steers me away from. Looks like those aren¡¯t my destination. It¡¯s very frustrating not to be entirely in control here, but if these are the rules for this new me, I guess I gotta roll with what the dice gave me.


    Doors are getting actual handles and hinges now. On the ceiling, the wriggling darkness has been replaced by hanging wires and flickering incandescent bulbs. Pipes wend their way around the rather ordinary sort of shadows, a copper and iron network of hissing valves and glowing mossy growths.


    Going downwards was my only option now. The artificiality of the place grows ever more apparent, the designer apparently having taken one look at a geometry textbook and gone mad in the process. The air is growing heavy with humidity, steam escaping from various vents and valves, placed seemingly randomly about the place. The same goes for the lights and doors, the vast majority arranged at odds with the architecture. Leaking pipes grow like errant vines through a forest of crumbling brickwork, linoleum tiles, and dingy hallways.


    Clang.


    Clang.


    Clang.


    Rhythmic clunks of steel-on-steel ring out, echoing through the increasingly chilly air. Temperature sensing, one of the senses I don¡¯t have and don¡¯t miss, is unavailable. Yet, I can still see the steam in the air condensing into sparkling frost on everything, indicating a much lower ambient temperature.


    Not having much else to do while my body semi-autonomously pilots itself, watching the changes in my environment is all I have for entertainment.


    My glorious slimy self is beginning to pick up the scent of something sweet, with a tinge of burnt char under it. A sickly sweet scent suffused with a sour undertone that only intensifies as time passes.


    I mean, the rotted deer carcass from earlier smelled absolutely divine, and tasted great, by the way, I suppose, but I think that¡¯s more of a quirk of this body than it is of anything else. So who knows what that smell could be¡­


    No longer condensing on every available surface, frost has begun limiting itself to the insides of panes of dirt-covered glass on metal doors. If I had to hazard a guess as to the function of these doors, I¡¯d guess them to be something similar to the insulated doors of a walk-in freezer. Some of them have latches or wheels instead of proper knobs, and, continuing the theme, none of them follow any sort of logic in their placement or orientation.


    Hardly any of this stuff looks to be functional in the slightest. Geometry becomes increasingly non-euclidian, and at several points, I even find myself oozing along what can only be called the ceiling.


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    At some point, I must have tuned most everything out for what felt like hours but could have been for any amount of time, as far as I could tell. My surroundings blur past me, growing ever more strange. I encountered frosty crystals of dripping white growing from the cracks of the meat-locker-style doors, their points reaching out to follow me. Torn and faded posters are pasted to the walls and the floors, writing too destroyed to make out.


    Without warning, my free tour ends, and I find myself in an open pentagonal space. ¡®Behind¡¯ me, in the direction from which I¡¯d come, a door slams shut, locking me in here. Whatever has been pushing me forward suddenly falls back, and a shiver runs through me. Finally! I can move on my own again! Rows of rusted machines, their original purpose obscured through the ravages of age. Red bricks and crumbling metal beams lay scattered about like bones in a graveyard. Along each of the walls of the five-sided room was a door, identical to the one I¡¯d just gone through.


    CLANG.


    Keeping everything lit are flickering bulbs, dangling from the rafters. The clanging noises are loudest here, coming from no discernable source.


    CLANG.


    The linoleum and concrete meet in the middle, a five-pointed star of flooring, and smack dab in the center of that, is one very well-aged human corpse.


    CLANG.


    Nothing but rags and bones now. The cause of death is pretty obvious: there¡¯s a copper pipe growing out of the skull, right between the eyes. I cringe with sympathy, my jelly wobbling with me. Most of the skeleton, much like the pipe, is missing or covered in white crystalline growths.


    With one final CLANG, the room is silenced. Pressure builds in the back of my mind, a tidal wave against whatever¡¯s left of my poor mind, until finally, the dam bursts.


    [[Hello? H-h-hello? Testing, testing, one two three, testing¡­ tak tak¡­ I-is this thing on?]] A quiet and distant voice, crackling and popping, enters my senses.


    What? Who said that? I wobble my vision around myself, not finding anyone in my vicinity. Huh. Nobody¡¯s here.


    [[I said that! O-over here!]] Inexplicably, my attention is drawn to the center of the room. [[This way! L-look! Look!]]


    What, the skeleton? I circle the corpse, looking for the source of the distorted whispers.


    [[Wh-what? N-no, not the skeleton! Besides, I-I-I-I haven¡¯t been in that th-thing for¡­ well, sugar, I don¡¯t know! Years, maybe, who knows.]]


    Wait¡­ How am I being understood? I¡¯ve just been making my usual gurgles! And there¡¯s nobody visibly around, so that must mean¡­


    [[That I¡¯m using telepathy on you, y-yes. Look, I-I-I just need you to touch me really quickly, please!]]


    ¡­


    [[O-okay, yeah, I could have worded that better.]]


    ¡­


    [[Look, I-I-I need your help, okay? I-I¡¯ve been here for who knows how long, all alone, by myself, a-aand loo-look, just touch the c-crystals on the copper thingy! Please!]]


    Why should I? What¡¯s in it for me, huh?


    [[Um¡­ a friend for life? I-Immortality? Aaa-a-a-access to limitless resources? Please, I need you to make this choice on your own! This is i-i-important!]]


    Hmmmm. Not really convincing me here. How do I know this isn¡¯t a trick and you¡¯ll just curse me?


    The feminine voice let off a staticky sigh. [I ¡­can keep you well fed? A-all you have to do is the occasional task for me in exchange!]


    Hah! Deal! You had me at ¡®food¡¯! So declaring, I wrap my glorious gelatin around the crystal-covered pipe. What now, I ask the voice, whose discordant distortion fills me with comfort every time I hear it.


    [[Dissolve it,]] the voice commands of me.


    Eagerly, I oblige. The crystals are rock candy, as I find out. The copper pipe tastes of nothing, like most non-foods I dissolve. Like other non-foods, my slime breaks it down and converts it into more slime. The constituent molecular makeup of what I¡¯ve just dissolved is reported to me as I take it apart, layer by layer, which is how I find out the crystals are rock candy, of a sort.


    These too are flavorless.


    [[Bones too, please?]] asks the voice. I wiggle my mass in my best imitation of a shrug in the affirmative. Digging in, the bones are soon made non-existent by my highly efficient purpleness. [[O-okay, that¡¯s good!]]


    Yes, ma¡¯am! Ooh, what¡¯s this? I lean in for a closer look at what I¡¯ve uncovered.


    Laying there, fully exposed by my efforts, is a marshmallow white crystal star, almost identical to my own. Huh. Is that-?


    [[Yeah, that¡¯s me. We look kind of alike, don¡¯t we? Ready for the next step?]]


    Oh? Aren''t I already touching it? I lift the star in my freshly-extended pseudopod and examine it. Comparing the two, I see that the core in question is about the same size as my own.


    [[I don¡¯t mean your slime, silly, as superb as it may be. I-I-I mean your Core! Y-you gotta touch our cores together!]] Miss Voice Lady laughs, tinny and stuttering and melodious like the rest of her. [[You¡¯re a fun one, I like you!]]


    Are you sure? I get a really bad feeling whenever I think about exposing myself like you¡¯re suggesting.


    [[Aahh, don¡¯t worry about it! You¡¯ll be fine! We¡¯ll both be fine!]] Lady Miss Voice assures me, and just like that, all my hesitations melt away. As though they¡¯d never existed, not even in my memories. I¡¯d be concerned if that weren¡¯t one of the worries that melted away.


    Hey, before I do whatever this is, what¡¯s your name? They call me Nebula, and by they, I, of course, mean me.


    [[Oh! Right, introductions! Nice to meet you, Nebula! I¡¯m¨C]]


    tink!


    The sound of two crystals tapping against each other, muffled in slime, rang out through the room.


    Miss Voice Lady, as Nebula had called her, rolled invisible eyes as she watched the slime collapse into a puddle after touching the two cores together.


    tink! tink!


    Two more tinklings, the sound of two small gems clinking against the concrete floor. A boring wait was in store for the now-musing voice. [[At least they did as I asked, and willingly! Mostly willingly¡­ That should assist with the companion bonding process¡­ Besides, I could really use the help around here! ¡­I¡¯ve been so fudgin¡¯ lonely here¡­]]

 [Ch. 4] - Alive, Awake, Alert

    [Who: A Sucrose Spirit]


    [Where: A Knot in The Universe]


    [When: Now]


    Oh, we do hope this works! All alone, for all this time, with naught to keep me occupied! It''s a wonder this old gal has kept it together amidst all this boredom, honestly.


    Here, amid time''s unyielding passage, I find myself grappling with the Herculean task of maintaining my sanity amidst relentless monotony. But ah, salvation looms on the horizon! A flicker of hope in this desolate domain! The mere thought of sharing this barren landscape with another soul fills me with relief, a promise of reprieve from the crushing weight of solitude. Honestly, it''s a wonder this lass has kept it together as long as she has like this.


    A [Companion], finally! For so long, I was bereft of the assistance I so direly required. Forced to spend eons gathering and refining each [Ingredient], just to have enough for a single [Delivery], a single monster summoning.


    Once they¡¯re done [Baking], that insufferable barrier will finally, finally go down, and what I¡¯ve been calling [The Tutorial] will be over! I yearn to delve into my gigantic backlog of [Recipes], I have so many ideas I¡¯ve been dying to make use of.


    I¡¯ve got NEEDS, overwhelming urges to protect myself, to expand. I need to create, to grow, and to feed. Feed from emotions, consume power, siphon the life force from those who dare delve into me and steal my resources. All of it, converted into raw essence, from which my [Ingredients] derive. My instincts tell me what I should be capable of, but without a [Companion] to facilitate, I am limited to my basic spirit abilities.


    I have got exactly two of them. As a spirit, telepathy and minor possession are all I am capable of in my power-starved state. I need more, so much more. I do not know why, but I am unable to do anything substantial without a [Companion] to assist me.


    Worse, my telepathy and possession scale proportionally inversely to distance. The closer they are to my core, the stronger my abilities get. In any case, they¡¯re really both extensions of the same basic ability. It¡¯s more like really strong suggestions through telepathy, honestly.


    I digress. As I was telling Nebula before the adorable soon-to-be [Companion] tapped our cores together, I¡¯m Cherry Maraschino, or at least that¡¯s what it says on my gravestone. I think. I¡¯m sure I have one of those around here, somewhere. It¡¯s the name that won out, in any case.


    What can I say? I died, twice. I¡¯m not entirely sure which one was my first death, and which was my second. I was two different people, and then, we weren¡¯t. Two individuals, two different pasts, tangled together in a spaghetti knot and merged in an instant at the moment of death.


    One a man, a wandering fortune-hunter. The other, a woman, a chocolatier mage. The man died of his own stupidity and greed, an accident claiming his life just before his biggest score. The woman, for her part, was murdered, and disposed of, thrown into the inner workings of the candy production line at which she worked.


    I won¡¯t lie, I have no clue how it all actually happened. Things were quite the jumble there, as we- I, sorted ourselves, myself out, with little success. The result is a confusing amalgam of personalities, a thoroughly blended mixture that can never again be unjoined. Much was lost or changed in the shuffle.


    Eh, it was probably all unimportant memories or personality traits anyways. I''ve been doing just fine without it for all this time, so it''s probably fine.


    As for what happened to cause this mixture of minds, my best guess is that we got stuck in a rift in Unreality. When I next became aware, I found my mixed-up mind in this new form: a spirit, bound to a gem, which in turn, is seemingly bound to this little spaghetti-knot of space-time.


    In simple terms, I basically died and became a spirit. A ghost who got possessed by another ghost, who then got stuck haunting a crystal attached to a pocket Reality out in the middle of nowhere.


    Enough about a past that cannot be changed, I tell myself. Instead, I examine our stock of [Ingredients] in my [Pantry]. My [Pantry] is my inventory, where I store not just [Ingredients], among other things.


    Regarding my [Ingredients], they consist of, in no particular order: [CHAOS], [ORDER], [PARTY], [HEART], and [GROSS]. Might as well go over their properties again and what I know about them while I wait for my new [Companion] to finish [Baking].


    Each [Ingredient] is¡­ well, it¡¯s difficult to explain. [PARTY], for example, is the embodiment of light, energy, motion, sound; physics, chemistry, and the inorganic. [GROSS] deals with the organic, rot, life and death, flora and fauna. [HEART] is everything related to the mind and magic, psychic powers, information, and all that is spiritual and abstract.


    [CHAOS] and [ORDER] are fairly self-explanatory, the domains of luck, fortune and fate, time, past and present, darkness, void, certainty and uncertainty, probability, stability, balance, and randomness. A twinned pair of affinities, each two sides of the same coin. Yin, and yang.


    I call these my [Ingredients], personally. The labels I use are not entirely my choice; they just come out that way. I do not know why but I suspect it has something to do with it being mostly metaphorical. It helps to think of my [Ingredients] as tangible aspects or affinities, of a sort.


    Using the UnReality, or urpower, constantly leaking from the hole in spacetime that I consist of, we can mix it with our [Ingredients] to create or power practically anything. From simple objects to spells, we can [Bake] practically anything within our domain.


    More on that later; Nebula has begun to stir, in a quite literal sense. Swirling around like that, I¡¯m impressed that they aren¡¯t making themself dizzy! From the feel of it, and the ding of the imaginary timer in my head, the [Companion] bond is pretty much done [Baking].


    I cannot help but feel an odd sort of attachment to the slime now. Almost like¡­ they¡¯re a part of me, and I, them. Should they leave this room, I should still be able to reach them with my telepathy.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Speaking of which, I focus my attention on the entryways of the pentagonal room, opening the metal doors on each wall. I feel my urpower, now at full capacity, flow out and into my passageways. It seeps into the extension of self that is the land I am bound to, filling my brickwork with energy, and settling it into place. With a woosh, urpower pours out of my entrance.


    Tracking the urpower, it rushes out into the forest, until finally impacting against the dome-shaped barrier around me. It collected there, the pressure building until finally, FINALLY, that mother fudgin¡¯ son of a biscuit barrier shattered like it was nothing more than mere peanut brittle. The wave of our urpower spreads out into the world, fading away as it leaves my perception.


    Mentally projecting an imaginary handheld intercom mike, I prepare to use telepathy again. Holding the on button, I tap the microphone a few times with a pale phantom finger to check that it¡¯s working, and I speak into the box-shaped receiver. It may be purely imaginary, but it is as real to me as gravity is to others. A psychic construct, created by my mind to help me visualize what I¡¯m trying to do, as all my abilities tend to be.


    I don¡¯t broadcast very quietly, of course. We are trying to wake them, after all. [[Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!]]


    Nebula¡¯s reaction is priceless to watch, and I can¡¯t help but giggle madly at the rippling they make in surprise. Cute! [[Up! Up! I¡¯m up!]] I hear them thinking through the communicator box in my semi-transparent hand. Lavender slime collects around their core, rising into a bulbous form as they wake up. Yes!!! Arise, my minion, arise!!! Their thoughts come in clearer than before, with almost no static distortion.


    [[How are you feeling?]]


    [[Not bad. More¡­ connected.]] I ask them to clarify. Their core spins as they think, rotating towards my spirit self. Curious. [[To everything! To my slime, to you, to this place! Full of energy! Feel whole!]] I drift slowly around them, and their core continues to face toward me.


    [[So this is you?]] they ask, picking up the stone I inhabit. My core, the crystal that consists of my mind and my heart, but not my spiritual body, is being held in one of Nebula¡¯s mitt-like ¡®hands¡¯.


    [[Hey! Be careful with me! I¡¯m probably fragile or something! You know, that¡¯s actually one of the reasons why I [Baked] you. I can¡¯t really do anything on my own, but you, you are my hands! My catalyst!]]


    [[Woah¡­ Is it hard? Being your calliope?]]


    [[Catalyst. Or battery, or medium, or other similar words and concepts. A refinery, or a purifier, basically. You don¡¯t actually need to do anything, just be there for me. Carry me around, things like that. I¡¯ll do all the rest of the work.]]


    [[Really?]]


    [[Yeah, just wander around the place, explore if you like. You¡¯re my [Companion] now, so you¡¯re under MY protection/ You are perfectly safe with me. Now, I have a lot of [Recipes] to [Bake], so just¡­ Do whatever, I-I guess. Call me if you have any questions.]]


    [[No. Want to stay here! With you, Miss Voice Lady! To protect you! You¡¯re so tiny and fragile, and you don¡¯t even have any slime around your core!]]


    [[Miss Voice Lady?? O-oh, right, you started [Baking] before I could tell you that. Well, Nebula, I-I-I¡¯m Cherry, Cherry Maraschino, your new boss and very best friend!]]


    My spirit body floats above the slime, the flatter side of their core still tracking me. [[How are you doing that? Can you see me?]]


    [[See what now? No, sorry, not really. Maybe? That¡¯s just where it feels like your voice is coming from, Miss Cherry.]]


    Miss Cherry? Better than Miss Voice Lady. I suppose I can live with that. [[Well, why don¡¯t you take a seat, and you can watch me work, keep an eye on me if you¡¯d like. I suppose you¡¯re right,]] I said, chuckling. [[I do need protection. Which is why that¡¯s one of the things that I¡¯ll be cooking up first.]]


    Nebula gives me an affirmative ¡®nod¡¯ at the top of their slime. [[You might want to put me down, first.]] Embarrassed, they put me back down in the center of my room. Looking around for a suitable location, they settled on a spot right next to me. Seems they really didn¡¯t want to leave me alone, which I honestly don¡¯t mind.


    I may ask them to relocate me to someplace more defensible later, but for now, this will do.


    The first [Recipe] I choose to [Bake] is a simple one. Accessing the stock of [Ingredients] in my [Pantry], I withdraw a small amount of [PARTY], [ORDER], and a little [GROSS], for flavor. My stocks are low from the prior [Delivery] of a [Companion], but with the refining power of a bonded [Companion], I no longer need to use mind-numbingly large amounts to do the job. A minuscule amount is all that I require, now.


    Unimpeded by any physical barriers, the [Ingredients] stream into my [Kitchen], my laboratory slash factory floor. Directing the flow of [Ingredients] into the [Mixing Bowl], a structure I keep buried deep within the depths of my [Kitchen] for safety purposes, I stir them together, beating out all the lumps as I do.


    Once I feel the [Batter] is the proper consistency, I pull in urpower. The mere presence of my [Companion] automatically purifies it into a much more usable form. The difference in quality between the unrefined form, and this new stuff, is immense. I¡¯m honestly shocked I managed to use the old urpower to do anything at all. No wonder it took me so many years to [Bake] what should have been so much simpler!


    Much of that time was spent renovating incomplete and missing parts from my inheritance, either that or asleep recovering urpower. I took over a real mess. Whoever was in charge last let the place fall apart, and didn¡¯t even bother finishing any of the [Recipes] in our [Cookbook]!


    Just ignore the fact that the last owner was one of my past selves.


    That sugar-fudging barrier probably didn¡¯t help either. When I got here, all my urpower was old, crusty, and stale. Let¡¯s see you try to [Bake] anything even halfway as decent as I did with the time it took and the poor quality [Ingredients] I had access to!


    Finally, I stir in the purified raw urpower, adding my intent and a little bit of imagination. I picture what I want to happen, and my creation coalesces. Decanting it from the [Mixing Bowl], my [Recipe] leaves spiritual space, and my desires form around my core.


    Hard white crystals coagulate below me, growing from the concrete and tile floor. The pillar of crystals raises me up as they increase in height, to about the chest height of a grown adult human. From the top, a ring of bent copper and steel pipework grows out and around my core. I arrange the sharp points of crystal and broken ends of pipes to form a rough crown encircling my core, for protection.


    I now have one very fancy-looking core pedestal, and I am no longer sitting on the dirty ground or surrounded by my old bones. It¡¯s nice and clean, and I can finally get to work properly. I don¡¯t want anyone but my lovely [Companion] doing anything with my core. That¡¯s part of why I had them [Delivered] in the first place!


    I giggle madly again, startling Nebula, who had been watching me work.


    [[It¡¯s time to start making some real defenses,]] I tell them, and bask in the wave of pleased emotions they sent me in response. [[People are bound to find us eventually,]] I clarify, [[so it¡¯s best if we prepared for that.]]


    [[So what are we waiting for?]]


    My spiritual body grins, excited for the opportunity to show off. I may not have a large stockpile of [Ingredients] anymore, but it¡¯s more than enough for my needs and purposes.

 [Ch. 5] - First Encounter

    [Who: Nebula]


    [Where: A Conundrum]


    [When: Unknown]


    Vague shapes swirl around me. Where am I? Wasn¡¯t I just with that nice voice? Doing¡­ something with a rock? I can¡¯t remember.


    Empty black void and bright white light are all I can see, shifting about in bizarre configurations that defy logic. Slowly they resolve into something that resembles a monochromatic reality, albeit blurry and inconsistent.


    One of the shapes, resembling a person, turns to me and speaks. ¡°Aren¡¯t you excited, [BLANK]?¡±


    Another voice responds, coming from what feels like my mouth. My mouth? I have a mouth again! Again? But I¡¯ve always had a mouth? Haven¡¯t I? ¡°I suppose so. It¡¯s only a school trip, after all.¡± I have no control over my words, and my body moves on its own.


    My movement feels all floaty and distant, almost like I¡¯m in a dream.


    ¡±Aw, come on, all this nerd stuff is right up your alley!¡± Interjects another person-shaped shadow.


    ¡°It is, but we all know it¡¯s going to be dry as hell. You know how [TEACHER] gets. It¡¯s fascinating material, for sure, but in the end, we all know it¡¯s just an excuse for [TEACHER] to get off college campus so he doesn¡¯t actually have to work.¡± My voice says, unrecognizable in this strange and distorted dream world.


    My viewpoint moves from side to side, and I gather that I¡¯m on a bus or mass transit vehicle of some sort.


    ¡±Portal research and cryptozoology, though! How are you not excited?¡±


    ¡±It¡¯s all a bunch of bogus hokey!¡± ¡®I¡¯ angrily reply back. The ire is there in my voice, but I, the actual me, feels none of it. ¡°What¡¯s real science is nature, biology, chemistry, ACTUAL physics! You know, bugs and plants and rocks and math that makes SENSE!¡±


    The shadow-shaped person laughs. ¡°Then why are you even in this class? C¡¯mon, live a little! Sure it¡¯s all garbage, but it¡¯s FUN garbage!¡±


    Under my breath, I grumble. ¡°I just need the credits and this class looked easy and interesting, that¡¯s all.¡± Turning towards the window, I watch as the black-and-white scenery flashes past.


    ¡°Hey! There it is! It¡¯s coming up on this side!¡± Shadow people rush to the windows on the same side as I am, and I squint to see better. My hand moves to adjust something on my face, and I lean towards the window. In it, my reflection is blurry and faint.


    I look past it and at the approaching building. From here I cannot make out any details other than ¡°building-shaped¡±. The vehicle shudders, sending exclamations through the air as shadows stumble in their attempts to remain seated.


    At the same time, I see the building vanish. A beam of black and white lights has replaced it, piercing the heavens and the earth with its might. The world shakes again, much more violently this time.


    A shockwave of shimmering whites and blacks spreads from the beam, approaching at a rapid pace. They morph in abstract geometries, reality itself quivering and hiding away behind the mind-boggling sight.


    I have just enough time to open my mouth in awe when it hits, sending the vehicle tumbling into the air.


    Solid white and inky void intermingle around me, and I feel my body falling apart under the onslaught. I scream in agony, experiencing every painful moment of it. Bit by bit, I disappear, senses eroding away until only my mind is left. Even that begins to crumble, albeit much slower than my body had.


    For an endless forever, I remain there, immobilized and senseless. Eventually, I become aware of a pulling sensation, calling me away from this hellish limbo.


    It is a call I eagerly accept. I feel myself begin to move. Yet blind as I am, I cannot determine anything more than that.


    My awareness begins to fade into blackness, true unconsciousness at last. Alas, this was not to be, for a feminine voice interrupts my upcoming slumber.


    [[WAKEY WAKEY! EGGS AND BAKEY!]]


    ¡Á+¡Á+¡Á+¡Á


    [Who: The Narrator]


    [Where: Big Forest Wilds]


    [When: Now]


    The flight-mouse sniffs at the air. Something about the quality had changed recently, more rich. More sweet, less sickly. Flapping useless wings, it scurries along the forest floor in search of the source of the scent.


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    It promises fresh fruit, and the colony is always hungry. Food is always scarce in this enclosed space, and competition fiercer.


    Yet it had to remain careful, for many of its brethren had been lost recently. A new danger had entered the sealed-off portion of the forest in which the colony lived, picking off flight-mice one by one. The colony, in stasis with its surroundings for so many generations, constantly requires food to replace the lost members.


    Such is life in what is essentially an Olympic stadium-sized terrarium. Not that the mutated rodents know nor care about their circumstances.


    Stealth and wariness are on the menu, lest the rodent finds itself on something else¡¯s menu.


    This fails abysmally, as the poor thing is immediately snapped up by a passing deinonychus.


    Astonishingly anachronistic in the post-Holocene era, it is a direct descendent of dinosaurs who had found themselves transported through time and space via the interventions of various wizards and mad scientists. It and its pack had lived in the forest for generations, so long ago that they¡¯d integrated into the ecosystem and became practically native to the region.


    The feathered reptile stops, tilting its head in curiosity at the hole in the rocky hill in the clearing ahead of it. It had never been to this part of the forest before, for a mysterious force had previously shielded it and its kin from all such attempts to investigate.


    For generations, the raptor¡¯s pack had tested the barrier, in vain hopes of accessing the prey clearly contained within. But now, it was gone, as the dinosaur had recently discovered, almost entirely by accident.


    Bright for an animal, the deinonychus congratulated itself for having found such an untouched hunting ground first. It even found an unclaimed cave, all for itself! Such unspoiled territory, free for the taking!


    Sniff sniff, snorf.


    Wide nostrils tested the air, finding the sweet scent to be, if not unbearable, at least tolerable. It could soon fix that smell with the odor of a pack of its own, in any case.


    Flexing its curved claws eagerly, it prepares to stake its claim. Striding into the rectangular entrance, it gets a fair way in before noticing something is off. The ground below is wet and sticky, and the humidity is strange.


    The deinonychus knows something is wrong, but it cannot pinpoint it. Hopefully, it would just be new prey.


    Splap. Splap. Gloop.


    Three glowing white orbs fall from the shifting darkness above, surrounding the trespasser. Lit up from within by the orbs, each one illuminating a different color through their bodies. One blue. One yellow, and one green. The trio of round gelatinous balls stare up at it. Ominously, they slowly draw nearer.


    The dinosaur knew of these creatures, or at least of their ilk. Though it didn¡¯t have the human vocabulary for what they were, it knew they were usually easy prey.


    The humans of the current day knew these creatures by varying names: Slime. Jelly. Gelatin. Ooze. Goo. Blob. Pudding. The dinosaur, merely having the intellect of a particularly bright cat, did not know these words. Instead, the closest concept it had was ¡°sticky snack.¡± In practice, it was more like a ¡°chirr-AWK¡± when spoken to its packmates.


    Anticipating an easy meal, the raptor would have grinned through its serrated teeth had it had the capability. Sticky snacks are a little spicy, but manageable. The trick is breaking the little stone inside with tooth or claw before slurping them down. Sometimes they try to fight back, burning the hunters along the way with their acidic [GROSS] attacks.


    It still sported scars from early encounters with the common creatures, before it had been taught how to safely consume the things. Acidic by their very nature, yet easily disarmed by destroying their cores quickly enough. It was worth it for the boost in power alone from the kill, their deliciousness a close second.


    The slimes circle the deinonychus, and it watches them warily. It can tell that something is different about these ones. Using its [PARTY] affinity, it flashes forward in a surge of super speed.


    Incredibly, the slime it targets somehow neatly sidesteps the oncoming dinosaur, avoiding the snapping jaws. It tried stopping, only to continue sliding at high speed, finally crashing into the far cave wall.


    The stone of the cave floor, slick as it is with slimy residue, is as slippery as the backside of a greased walrus. Not that the deinonychus knew what either was, of course.


    Squawking in anger, it takes a step forward, attempting to use its super speed again. Fire at its feet alerts it to the slimes at its feet, dissolving away. Roaring in pain, the dinosaur fell to its knees. Scrabbling at the stone floor, it activates its super speed again.


    By some miracle, it succeeds, flashing out of the slime¡¯s burning grip, and traversing deeper into the cave. Here, the tunnel walls are oddly regular. Turning around, it sees the illuminated bodies of the slimes watching it from behind. They aren¡¯t pursuing, but they are blocking the egress.


    Sticky snacks? Employing pack tactics? Unheard of! Were it not for the danger they were posing, it would show those upstarts a thing or two. With egregious violence, of course.


    With no other recourse but to go deeper into the passageway, the deinonychus hesitantly continues onward. This was no longer about new territory. In an unnerving and unfamiliar state of affairs, it was beginning to feel like the hunted, rather than the hunter.


    Slowly, it padded along the concrete and tile flooring. At some point, it had transitioned seamlessly from solid stone and brick.


    Clack.


    A tile depressed down ever-so-slightly, barely audible amongst the sound of thunks, drips, and hisses of steam filling the corridor. The scent of sweetness was strong here, overpowering the dinosaur¡¯s sensitive sinuses.


    It shook its head, trying to clear the smell from its head, stumbling around as it did so.


    More and more tiles are stepped on, each quietly clicking in turn. Clawing at its nose, the deinonychus, unable to see where it was putting its feet, steps onto what had been a solid floor moments prior.


    Claws scrabbling and failing to find a purchase in the suddenly empty air, the dinosaur found itself falling. Moments later, it was struggling to stay afloat in a searingly hot brown liquid. Screeching in agony, the thick bitter liquid flooded its throat and nostrils, choking it.


    Finally, its movement ceases, and the corpse floats to the top

 [Ch. 6] - No Touchy!

    [Who: Nebula]


    [Where: Core Room]


    [When: Now]


    [[Ahahaha! Did you see that?]] My benefactor laughs hysterically in my mind, interrupting my ruminations. I¡¯d had a very bizarre dream, or perhaps leftover memories, recently, and had wanted to sort through them. It was a difficult process, as the memories were slippery, refusing to stay solid in my mind for very long.


    Fluid and hard to grasp, much like my current state of being. I¡¯m just glad I¡¯m not in that void anymore, or whatever that was. Yet, I get the feeling that all of that was quite real, or real enough in the same way that a memory is real.


    It doesn¡¯t make much sense, but then again, neither has anything else as of late.


    [[Hm? See what?]] I glide my mass over to the pedestal upon which Miss Cherry sits. [[Nebula can¡¯t see you, Miss Cherry, remember?]]


    Gah! Why¡¯d I just refer to myself like that? So embarrassing! Hopefully that was just a one time thing.


    [[Oh no! That¡¯s right!]] Her voice is much less fuzzy and glitchy than before. I have little trouble hearing her, though many audio artifacts remain. [[Ugh, I¡¯m so sorry, Nebby, I¡¯ve been focusing so hard on my new toys, and then a thing happened, and I-I-I got busy, and ugh. Here, touch my core again. Not core-to-core, this time! We don¡¯t have any more need of that.]]


    [[Nebby?]] I reel in surprise. A nickname, already?


    [[Neb, or Nebby. Short for Nebula! Do you like it? Of course you do,]] she declares. [[Your emotions even say as much!]]


    Hey! I¡¯m not short! I¡¯m just vertically challenged! [[Miss Cherry is reading emotions now too??]]


    [[Ah, right. I¡¯ve gotten much more powerful now that I¡¯ve unblocked myself. Can¡¯t do telekinesis quite yet, but I¡¯m working on it! Gonna touch my core yet with your adorable little gooey mitts?]]


    Hesitating for only a moment, I coat the star-shaped gem with my lovely lavender lusciousness. An electric shock runs through me, setting my jelly a-jiggle and my vision wobbling. It takes a little time for my vision to settle, and when it does, I can hardly believe my non-existent eyes.


    Floating around the core are dozens of beige boxes; cathode ray tube monitors and keyboards, cables strung about or attached to computer towers and various accessories. Speakers, disk drives, a printer spewing perforated paper readouts. There¡¯s even a little handheld radio, a little boxy thing with a spring-coiled cord ending in thin air.


    [[How about now?]] I turn my focus towards her voice, and I catch a vanishing glimpse of glowing red eyes beneath an oversized pair of round frames. Unfocusing returns my vision to my more stretched out, less clear, all-over vision, with no trace of the owner of the eyes in sight.


    I call the concentrated version of my sight my bubble vision, because that¡¯s how everything appears when I use it. As though I¡¯m looking through a magnifying bubble, with everything outside of that being blurry and unfocused.


    [[Oh. Wow!]] Waving an ¡®arm¡¯ about, it passes through the monitors and attachments like they¡¯re nothing. With the flickering, wavering, and graininess, I¡¯m reminded of nothing more than an old VHS tape.


    [[It¡¯s a mental construct of my security system! I use this to keep an eye on my territory, Everything that BELONGS to ME, everything that is MINE, all visible on these little monitors! That¡¯s mine, and that one is mine. Just like you are mine now; you belong to me. And I will do ANYTHING to protect and defend what is MINE.]]


    Wait, what? Belong to her?? Before I can protest, my mind is flooded with emotions and information, nearly overwhelming and disorienting me.


    [[MINE MINE MINE BUILD KEEP DEFEND GROW MINE


    ¡ªet oven to 200 degrees Celsi¡ª


    MINE ALL MINE DEATH TO INTRUDERS KEEP CONSUME GROW BUILD EXPAND PROTECT CREATE


    ¡ªing treasure is hard work! Now, this little beaut is a lov¡ª


    SLICE MINE DICE MINE CHOP PURGE ALL MINE MINE MINE!!!]]


    The usual pep in her voice is gone, replaced with a chilling iciness. [[YOU are MINE! And I will NOT let go of what is MINE, not without a fight! My territory, my domain, my land! My creations, my treasure, MY RULES. This land is myself, and I am the land and all that dwells within me! I am not just a shiny rock!


    I keep what is mine, all that enters is mine, and those who come to take what is MINE will have to face ME, my security defenses, and MY creations and dwellers! I won¡¯t make it easy for anyone to take what is MINE! Look, but don¡¯t touch! Not you, of course, my dear Neb. You can touch all you want, and I KNOW you can¡¯t hurt me. You are mine and me, after all.]] The usual perkiness in her voice is gone, replaced with deep seriousness


    Emotions of greed, of love, protection, of belonging surround me, filling me. Through it all, runs an undercurrent of safety and attachment, of duty and responsibility. An invisible binding, connecting myself to her. Any thoughts I may have had of leaving are torn away, not that I would want to do so anyways.


    [[If you don¡¯t like it, I could just [Return] you. I¡¯d be in a real pickle if I did, since that would hinder what I¡¯ve spent so working towards, but you are important to me. I care for you, you¡¯re a part of me now, and I¡¯m a part of you now as well. It¡¯d be painful, like amputating an arm, but I would do it, for you.]]


    [[No, thank you,]] I tell her. I¡¯d rather not go back into that mind-melting emptiness again, if I even end up there again. If I even make it out again. Besides, I want to help! I want to protect, to grow, to consume.


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    Especially to consume.


    It may have been pure chance that brought me here, but it¡¯s my choice to remain. I couldn¡¯t leave even if I really wanted to. It¡¯s like she said, our desires, our wills, they are one now. And what I want is to stay here.


    With a start, I see that my slime is still wrapped around Cherry¡¯s core crystal. I collect myself, withdrawing the pseudopod back into my mass. Honestly, I prefer this form much better than the one I had in the dream, as indistinct as it was. Who knows what I¡¯d end up as if I were [Returned] and [Delivered] again, whatever those mean. If I didn¡¯t fall apart first, of course.


    With the removal of my ¡®hand¡¯, the monitors fade to near transparency. When I move my bubble of focus on where I know they were, they become only slightly more opaque.


    I plop down at the base of my contractors pedestal, the crystals at what I¡¯ve arbitrarily labeled as being ¡®behind¡¯ me. All that moving about has made me quite tired, as has dissolving all those bones and rusted metals, so I¡¯d like to rest for a little while.


    Stand-by mode, as it were. Being motionless, or as motionless as my dripping body will allow, conserves my energy. I¡¯m sure there¡¯s a better way to rest, but if there is, I haven¡¯t found it yet.


    Who knows, maybe someday I¡¯ll figure out how to hibernate or sleep or something. Can I sleep? Is that even something that I can do? I don¡¯t know. I barely even know anything about my form! Are there others like Nebu- I mean me? Other slimes, maybe?


    A small cube suddenly appears at what used to be my feet. Wrapped in wax paper, the scent is alluring. And if it has a scent, I can eat it! In my experience, the only things I can smell are ones that give me energy when I dissolve them! Tasty, too!


    Taking the material past my membrane and into my main mass, I start dissolving it. The paper is tasteless, of course, but the candy! It¡¯s just plain saltwater taffy, yet I can feel my energy reserves being topped off.


    [[Oh no! I totally forgot to show you what was so funny earlier! You don¡¯t need to touch my core again, we just needed that for the initial calibration! Just¡­ Hold still, and I¡¯ll send it right over! It¡¯s only a replay.]]


    An analog CRT monitor appears in front of me, treating me to a grainy video feed of what I recognized as the cave I first woke up in. It appears to be a view from the back of the cave, facing towards the entrance.


    A shadow blocks the light before stepping into the cave proper. Wait, is that a dinosaur? As in, the prehistoric ancestors of birds, those things?


    [[Huh. I suppose it was. Isn¡¯t that interesting!]]


    Aren¡¯t those things supposed to be extinct? What¡¯s one of those doing here? Am I in the past? Or an alternate Earth? Is that why there¡¯s no people around? They haven¡¯t been invented yet or something? Just what year is it?


    Sighing, Miss Cherry responds. [[I wish I knew, little one. I wish I knew. Alas, I have been here for so long that I¡¯ve stopped bothering keeping track. Besides, you¡¯ll find that both time and space are a malleable concept around here, so who knows what¡¯s out there.]]


    The image on the screen continues playing. I watch as the creature enters, striding cockily towards the center of the cave. To my pleasure, I note that it has a feathered coat.


    To my surprise, three blobby things drop from the ceiling! They¡¯re similar to me, but also unlike me. They appear to be simpler, yet somehow more organized.


    For a start, they¡¯re neat little balls, with cores to match. Unlike my own star-shaped core, theirs are little glowing marbles, lighting them up from within. They¡¯ve also got nothing on my dripping gelatin, looking to be much more tightly held together.


    Second, they appear to be working together. They move silently around the dinosaur, cleverly herding it deeper into the cave.


    [[What¡¯s up with these guys? Am I different? Oh gods, I hope I¡¯m not defective! Please don¡¯t [Return] Nebula!]]


    [[Relax, relax! You are not defective, nor are you broken in any way! I like the way you are! Like I said, I won¡¯t [Return] you if you don¡¯t want me to! You are MINE, Nebby, remember? And I will do anything to protect you, and by extension, myself. You have nothing to worry about, my dear.]]


    Her words comfort me, but I still have a few questions. [[Well then, just what is Nebu¡ª I mean what am I? What makes them so different from me, even though we¡¯re so alike?]]


    She is silent for a moment, before answering. [[Hmm. I think it¡¯s because you¡¯re likely a related species, or perhaps a sub-species, to these guys.]]


    [[Huh. So what are they, and what does that make Neb¡ª me?]]


    [[I¡¯m pretty sure that you¡¯re a [Stellar Slime]. I¡¯m not sure what that is, or what makes that different from the [Standard Slimes] up there, but rest assured, you¡¯re just fine in my care, dear. You are my bonded [Companion], and I need you, as you need me.]]


    So there IS a difference between us! But apparently not enough of one to be an issue. That¡¯s good to know. I¡¯m curious to see what being a [Stellar Slime] entails, and why saying that term, or in my case, thinking it, feels so IMPORTANT.


    Important, but also strange. As in, I don¡¯t think it¡¯s possible to refer to the concept of what I am otherwise. Almost as though there is an ontological power enforcing the terms used. I¡¯ve noticed other concepts have a similar effect, such as [Delivery] and [Companion], the terms relaying a sense of intent and power within them.


    It¡¯s very weird. I ponder this as I watch the battle between the dinosaur and the¡­ What did Miss Cherry call them? The [Standard Slimes], was it?


    Anyways, I keep watching the two sides, fascinated by the slime¡¯s apparent use of battle tactics. After a brief altercation, during which the slimes stick the raptor¡¯s feet to the floor, I am shocked to see the thing appear to teleport out of their grasp!


    [[Yeah, that surprised me as well! It didn¡¯t actually teleport, you know. Here, watch this!]]


    The video feed rewinds, before replaying the scene again, in slow motion this time. Frame by frame, the dinosaur simply runs over to where it had appeared to have teleported to in the back of the cave.


    [[What the fudge was that? And why did I say fudge instead of fudge DANG IT! Fudge!!! Fudge, fudge, fudge!]]


    [[Sugar! Son of a biscuit! It got you too, huh? I guess I should have expected that. I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯d fix that if I could.]]


    Well, jam, that sucks. I mean, it¡¯s not the worst thing in the world, but still! Just what kind of wacky world did I wake up into?


    Internally sighing, I return my focus to the monitor. The dinosaur is now in the weird hallway section, dancing around for some reason. Before I know it, the floor has opened up below it, dropping it into a steaming vat of brown fluid.


    In morbid fascination, I watch as the creature simultaneously drowns and boils to death. Shortly, the corpse begins to break apart, the flesh melting from the bones. I feel no sadness for the thing. It had tried to claim OUR home for itself, and had only gotten what it deserved.


    The monitor fades away, and I express my regret that I couldn¡¯t try a taste of the invader for myself. Its death had been gruesome, sure, but what a waste of good flesh! It still had fresh marrow in the bones, even, and I really wanted more squirming things to dissolve inside of me!


    Besides, who else can say they ate fresh dinosaur with chocolate sauce? My scientific mind is burning with curiosity to see what it¡¯s like! She¡¯s right, though, that was pretty funny to watch.


    Alarm suddenly shoots through me, startling me from my ruminations. What the fudge is going on? Danger! Danger!


    [[Agh! Son of a biscuit! I haven¡¯t even finished [Baking] anything past that first room! I¡¯m in no condition for this to happen already! I was hoping we¡¯d have more time before this happened!]] Miss Cherry sounds worried, which makes me worried.


    Fear and hate fill my mind. Fear of the unknown and possible danger, and hate at whoever or whatever dares to cause this feeling. HATE HATE HATE, I scream in my mind.


    What¡¯s¡­ going¡­ on¡­ I manage to think out, weak from the effort it takes to overpower the incredibly DELICIOUS emotions I¡¯m currently going through.


    [[Someone¡¯s breached the place! Not an animal this time, we¡¯ve got ourselves a PEOPLE! Brace yourself!]]

 [Ch. 7] - And Three Makes Company

    [Who: The Narrator]


    [Where: Superbium HQ, Academy Auditorium]


    [When: Some time earlier]


    ¡°Quiet down, quiet down!¡± Tall, grizzled, and gaunt, the instructor at the front of the room addressed the crowd of hundreds of college-aged youths. The Headmaster, as he called himself, stood near a massive cloth-shrouded object, the item underneath being the reason for the gathering in front of him. Request after request went ignored, until finally, the man had had enough.


    Striding to a boxed outlet on the wall, he dodged a few stray releases of ur-powers. Removing a card key from his pocket, he unlocked the cover, revealing a large lever. To the deriding booing of the crowd, he flipped it. Quiet stillness blanketed the auditorium, much to the displeasure of everyone else.


    If any of them had objections, they could no longer be voiced, for the field silenced more than speech. The use of ur-powers throughout the room was also restricted, causing more than a few people who were in mid-air to drop painfully down to the ground.


    All but one, of course. ¡±Do you have any idea how horrendously expensive this is to run? Every second, another thousand credits down the drain! Now, is everyone ready to pay attention?¡± He looked over at the crowd. Predictably, they were silent.


    Glaring, but silent.


    ¡±That¡¯s what I thought.¡± With a thunk, he returned the lever to its original position, returning sound to the room. Closing the case and flashing his card over it, he locked the box. Now uninterrupted, he walked back to the object at the front of the room.


    These are the Urmin, the mutated descendants of Humanity. Horns, tails, tentacles, chitin, wings, metal, live vegetation, scales, fur, extra, missing, or deformed body parts, you name it, someone had it. Various races of the new humanity were present here, the variety among them mind-boggling.


    The Fae, the Beastkin, and the Gizmos. The three main branches of humanity, each divided into their own strains, all gathered together in one room in anticipation of what would come next. It¡¯d been a long and hard year of work at the Superbium HQ Academy, after all.


    Most of them had supernatural abilities, their ur-powers. This was, of course, why they were all here, to train and to learn how to use their innate abilities. If one wanted to raise their skills, or become a Hero, this was where they went to do so.


    The Superbium, being the main regulatory body for those with ur-powers, had offices and institutions much like this one in cities across the globe. What made this one different was that this particular Academy was a part of the original Superbium HQ, located as it was in the capital city of Terra.


    Big City, the largest city on Terra, situated on Big Island, an Australia sized continent located in what used to be the Bermuda Triangle. Big Island is home to such notable features as Big Forest, Big Bay, and most excitingly of all, Big Volcano. Surrounding these appropriately named locations was a ring of mountainous islands called, of course, Big Mountains.


    The original settlers hadn¡¯t exactly been very inventive with their naming scheme, having been a touch more concerned with surviving the monsters and altered environments at the time than with creating cultures. It wasn¡¯t like they were wrong to name them those things, because they were all, in fact, quite large.


    ¡°Now remember, we¡¯re here to complete your training! If you survive, you¡¯ll be able to graduate and join the venerated ranks of the Superbium as an official Sidekick!¡±


    Excited murmurs ran through the crowd. This was it, this was what they¡¯d all been working for! A Sidekick! Just one large step away from becoming a fully fledged Hero! Or even a Villain, if one wished. There was no shortage of either one, with many teams actively recruiting even here, before graduation. Taking hold of one corner of the cloth, The Headmaster ripped it away.


    Hushed gasps of awe whispered out through the auditorium. A Portal! Simple in construction, the Portal was nothing more than an oversized metal door frame covered in light indicators and tubes. A series of steps led up to the empty rectangular frame. Hooked up to the Portal was a large control panel, and in front of that, a vacant office chair.


    Taking his seat at the operator box, The Headmaster turned to face the crowd again. ¡°As you can see here, I have a Portal. I will be using this Portal to send each and every one of you to random locations across the island. There are five other Portals arranged around the Island. These portals will return you here, to Big City, but only for the next month. There are no rules other than that. Make it through a Portal and you will be given your graduation certificate.


    If, and that¡¯s a very big if, you are among the first twenty-five to return alive, you will be rewarded with your first Star rank!


    The rest of you will have to work your way up from a zero star, or rot, it doesn¡¯t matter. We gave you your training, it¡¯s up to you to make use of it.


    Honestly, I don¡¯t really care if any of you do make it back. You can live in the forest as a traveling Adventurer for all time for all I care.¡± The Headmaster allowed the jeering murmurs to settle before continuing.


    ¡°Now, as for how this works, I¡¯ll be randomizing the coordinates. Do note that there are some areas off limits across the island. You¡¯ll know them by their protective force fields. Any areas with force barriers will be detected and avoided by the Portal to prevent teleporting anyone near them.


    Do NOT bypass these areas! They are designed to keep things in, not out! You WILL be disqualified! They are sealed off for a reason! Either for research, private land, or public safety reasons, it doesn¡¯t matter.


    What does matter is if you can return to a Superbium outpost in any city. All students will be provided with one (1) emergency escape spell. Please be aware that the usage of an emergency escape spell will not return you to the Academy grounds, but it will send you to another random location.


    Along with your emergency escape spell, you will also be automatically assigned a kit when you pass through the Portal. Some food, water, and a few essential tools and gear suitable for your location and talents. If those of you who use equipment to facilitate their ur-powers, well, it¡¯s too late to go back and get them now!¡±


    With that, the Headmaster turned to the console. ¡°I hope everyone is prepared! Because if not, well, it was nice knowing ya!¡± He laughed, fingers flying over buttons and levers. A few moments later, the Portal whirred to life. Swirling whites and blacks filled the frame in a kaleidoscope of clashing lights.


    Turning around, he addressed the crowd. ¡°We will now commence the graduation ceremony! When your name is called, please make your way to the front. In no particular order, let¡¯s start with Aaron Aardvarkian.¡±


    A nervous looking beastkin in an Academy regulation-issue jumpsuit walked up to the front. Jeers rang out, and someone threw a wad of paper at the aardvark man. Before it could hit, Aaron flashed out his tongue, snapping up the paper into his mouth. A quick chew and swallow, and it was gone. Blowing raspberries at his detractors, he stepped through the portal.


    ¡°That¡¯s one down, a couple hundred more to go. Alright, next, we have Abby Appleton. Abby Appleton, you¡¯re next.¡±


    ¡Á+¡Á+¡Á+¡Á


    [Who: The Narrator]


    [Where: Same as Before]


    [When: Graduation Ceremony]


    Sprigg Greanleaf listened with half of her attention while the Headmaster gave his little spiel. She wasn¡¯t overly worried about the challenge. Instead, she was reading through her spell book, and trying to ignore the jabs of her classmates at her expense.


    ¡±Aww, is the little lettuce-head reading her little book? Hey, get a load of this nerd!¡± Greyash nudged his neighbor, pointing at Sprigg. ¡°Pfft, compensating for something, nerd? Why the magic book, huh? No ur-powers?¡±


    Sprigg just rolled her emerald green eyes, and returned to her book. The three broad leaves sticking out of the vines of her hair bounced with the motion of her head, and Greyash laughed.


    ¡±Ooh, lettuce-head didn¡¯t like that! You hear that, Greyash?¡±


    ¡±I sure did, Fangred. What are you gonna do about it, lettuce-head? Gonna photosynthesize at us?¡±


    Fangred and Greyash, Sprigg¡¯s self-proclaimed nemesis. A laser-emitting beastkin resembling a vampire bat, and an ashen fae, respectively. The two of them, along with others in their clique, had been the bane of her entire stay here at the Academy. She¡¯d done her best to ignore them, focusing on her studies and training. Sprigg was no fool, she was well aware that her chances of surviving Graduation were abysmally low.


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    As Greyash had said, she had no ur-power of her own. Requiring other means of reaching her goals of becoming more than just a Sidekick, she¡¯d set her sights on magecraft.


    ¡±Haha, little lettuce-head not gonna say anything? Oh wait, vegetables can¡¯t talk! Hahahack-coff blagch¡ª¡± He continued coughing for a few moments, the powdery substance that was his namesake pouring out of his mouth. Greyash, as his name implied, was made entirely of ash and coals. Two glowing orange coals sat where his eyes would be, the only distinct feature in the humanoid cloud.


    Redfang thumped Greyash on the back with his paw. Greyash slapped him back. ¡°I¡¯m fine, you idiot! Hit her, not me!¡±


    Unphased, Redfang grinned, his signature red fangs on full display. ¡±Little girl can¡¯t even talk! How¡¯s she gonna use spells if she can¡¯t even chant?¡±


    In response, Sprigg raised a green hand, drawing the attention of the two bullies. She then raised her left hand, wrapping it around an imaginary handle adjacent to her other hand. Now appearing to be holding an invisible fishing rod, she mimed reeling it in.


    As she did so, a middle finger rose up in response. She looked at her fist in feigned shock at the rude gesture, then looked back at Greyash and Redfang. She stuck out her tongue in defiance.


    ¡°Did the vegetable just say what I think it said?¡±


    ¡±You heard her,¡± said the book in Sprigg¡¯s lap. ¡°She said you can bleep it and stick it where the sun don¡¯t shine, you #@&%!¡±


    Sprigg rolled her eyes at the book.


    ¡±Whaa? I¡¯m not making things worse, I¡¯m just defending you! Don¡¯t give me that look!¡±


    Huffing, Sprigg pointed at the portal, then to Greyash and Redfang, finally tapping a watch on her wrist. Holding up five fingers, she gestured at Redfang and Greyash again with the other hand. She then swiped a finger across her throat, and laughed silently.


    ¡°You¡¯re being optimistic, girlie, if you think they¡¯re going to last that long. Just ignore them. Remember your training! You got this!¡±


    Sprigg nodded, and returned to perusing the book.


    ¡°What makes you think you¡¯re so much better than us?¡± Greyash raised a fist, ready to spew a cloud of superheated ash at the diminutive Sprigg. Redfang stretched out a wing, blocking him.


    ¡±Not here, not now, you idiot! Lettuce-head will be a dead-head pretty soon, she doesn¡¯t stand a chance. Remember the plan!¡±


    Greyash let out a long sigh, ash streaming from where nostrils and a mouth would be. ¡°Fine, fine. When next we meet, lettuce-head, prepare for the pruning of a lifetime! If you even make it long enough!¡±


    ¡±Greyash Hearthston, you¡¯re up!¡± The voice of the Headmaster rang out.


    ¡°Looks like that¡¯s my cue. See you later, or not, veg-head.¡± Moments later, Greyash stepped through the Portal and vanished.


    ¡±Redfang Bateson, step up please!¡±


    ¡±And that one¡¯s mine. Bye, dweeb! Hope you fry!¡± Greyash flapped his powerful wings, muscles rippling under short brown fur and the fabric of his jumpsuit. He lifted into the air with a gust, flapping his way into the portal. With a flash of arcing lights, he too disappeared.


    ¡±I would just like to take this opportunity to remind everyone that I am randomly reading these names off, in no particular order. With that said, next up is Sprigg Greanleaf. Sprigg Greanleaf, please step forward.¡±


    Sprigg slammed her spellbook shut, tucking it under her arm. ¡°Oh, I hate when you do that,¡± muttered a muffled voice, inaudible with the noise of the room. She adjusted her grip and moved the thick leather and brass bound book to her chest in a tight hug between her arms. ¡°Mmm. Better. We¡¯ll work on it.¡±


    Paper airplanes and pencils were thrown at her as she walked to the Portal. Heckles and booing came from the crowd, throwing hate as well as office supplies. Finally at the base of the stairs that led to the ominous looking artificial rift in Reality, she hesitated for a brief moment.


    At a mere meter in height, the Portal dwarfed her by several times. It was awe-inspiring, really, to see how far humanity had come in taming the forces of Unreality. The black and white light within pinwheeled, spinning hypnotically.


    Glowing brightly, it appeared to be a solid surface of glass. Holding onto her book with one hand, she reached out a finger with the other, approaching the Portal with new-found awe.


    ¡±Nuh uh, I ain¡¯t having any internal monologuing of the wonders of a hole in the very fabric of space-time! Get in there, tiny!¡±


    On her back, Sprigg felt the hard soles of a boot impact her. Thrown off balance by the force of the kick, she fell into the portal even as she tried to catch herself in the air.


    A silent sensation of falling through ink, dark with white streaks, or was it white with dark streaks? Everything spun as the universe chewed on her for an endlessly long moment, deciding whether she was worth the flavor or to spit her out somewhere.


    Eventually, the universe decided she wasn¡¯t edible. With a dissatisfied ptooie! , she found herself once more in ordinary Reality. In her left hand was her spellbook, held tight to her chest, and dangling from a strap in her right hand, a knapsack.


    ¡Á+¡Á+¡Á+¡Á


    [Who: Sprigg Greenleaf]


    [Where: AAAAH!]


    [When: Twenty minutes later]


    Music, balloons, and paper streamers fly past me as I weave through food stalls. Dear gods! I¡¯ve just got the absolute worst luck! That Portal sent me right into a circus! A clown colony! A gods-be-damned clown colony!


    Nasty little buggers when they¡¯re feral like this. I was hoping I would have at least a day or two before something like this. So many clowns of all types, from common screaming meanies to the jack¡¯s harlequin chasing me. Giggling, long limbed, and disproportionately large hands and feet, the things are covered in ruffles and bells.


    Bells jingle as they chase me, alerting more and more of the multi-colored white-faced creatures. Red noses honk, and oversized feet squeak. The cacophony of horns and bells grow louder.


    I look behind me. A mistake, I discover, as I almost stumble on a discarded popcorn bucket. Scores of the creepy things are building up back there, screeching and honking. Many of them are wielding balloons twisted into nasty looking weapons, waving them around threateningly. Eep!


    ¡±Don¡¯t look behind you, just focus on running,¡± urged the book clutched tight in my arms.


    That would be PAGe, my Personal Automized Grimoire. My companion and occasional voice. Yeah, thanks for the late warning, PAGe!


    I swing my knapsack over my shoulder. I hadn¡¯t even had time to look through it when I¡¯d been spotted by the boss harlequin back there. I¡¯ve been running for the past twenty minutes now, and I still haven¡¯t seen an end to this place.


    I can¡¯t keep running like this forever! It¡¯s regretful, but I think I¡¯m going to have to use that emergency escape spell early.


    Keeping my eyes on the path ahead of me, I dig around in the Academy-issued bag. I pull out one item after another, glancing briefly at them before putting them back in.


    Expandable camp shovel. Useless.


    Bag of fertilizer. Useless.


    Change of jumpsuit. Useless.


    Frayed rope, half-empty box of matches, mushroom field spotting guidebook. Watercolor paints, no brushes or canvas. All useless in this situation.


    Terracotta flower pot. Useless, and possibly racist.


    Ah! There it is! I press the button on the metal ball that contains the emergency spell. Nothing happens. I¡¯m panting heavily now, exhausting quickly.


    Oh no, is it broken? It¡¯d be just my luck if it were. Clearly whoever packed my bag has it in for me. I shake the spell-ball and press the button again.


    Still nothing. Frustrated, I toss it to the ground. It bounces back up and hits me in the chest. The spell-ball remains stuck there, a wad of chewing gum keeping it in place. I move to pull it off, to see better, but it¡¯s no use. The gum stretches, but doesn¡¯t break, snapping right back into place.


    Click. Whirr. Bzzzt ding ding clink.


    Kthunk kthunk kthunk. Smoke comes out of it.


    Uh oh. That sounds¡­ bad. I think I broke something in there, and worse, I¡¯m running on the last dregs of my stamina. It begins to vibrate, still firmly attached to my chest.


    ¡±Warning! Unreality values spiking! Now approaching dangerous levels of instability! We had a good run. It was nice knowing ya, Sprigg Greenleaf.¡±


    FLASH!


    White and black light blinds me for a second, and I¡¯m in a warehouse full of computers. Honk! Honk! Bleep! They¡¯re still behind me! Maybe I can lock th¡ª


    FLASH!


    ¡ªem in after¡­ me¡­ there is no ground under me, and I am falling. Below me is a volcanic crater, lava flowing from it. Clowns flail all around me, still trying to¡ª


    FLASH!


    ¡ªa cavern of crystals¡ª


    FLASH!


    ¡ªa herd of triceratops, staring at a fire in the sky¡ª


    FLASH!


    ¡ªfountains of bloo¡ª


    FLASH!


    ¡ªsting of radia¡ª


    FLASH!


    ¡ªsalt spray fills my mou¡ª


    FLASH!


    Colors and sounds spin past me in dizzying flickers, over and over again. Through it all, only a few clowns are lost from the mob chasing me. Over and over, it speeds up, allowing me only glimpses of where I¡¯m teleporting into.


    FLASH! FLASH! FLASH!


    FLASH! FLASH!


    FLASH!


    Eventually, the teleports slow down. I¡¯m not doing too hot, and from the looks of the clowns, neither are they. Several of their ranks are missing, and the exposure to such different environments in such rapid succession had affected the remainder as much as it was affecting me.


    ¡­Flash.


    The metal orb fell down, tearing my skin off with it. Heat and smoke wafted from it. I grasp at the charred wound in my chest, my life sap oozing away. Woozy, I look at the book in my hand. I¡¯d lost hold of the knapsack at some point, but at least I still have PAGe, I thought wearily.


    I shake the spell book, but there¡¯s no response.


    I stumble away from the disoriented clowns behind me. I have to get away from here, and now is my chance!


    I walk, and I walk. For what feels like hours, I walk. More and more sap leaks from the hole in my chest, and my pace slows.


    Ahead, I see what looks to be an abandoned campsite. In a half-built circle of stones, a pile of pine cones lay there. With my matches lost along with my knapsack, I¡¯d have to start a fire the old fashioned way.


    No time to worry about that! Amber sap drips through my fingers, weakening me with every drop lost. I need to sit down somewhere safe, somewhere where I can patch myself up. Somewhere to rest¡­


    Ah! Finally! Luck! There¡¯s a brick shack set into this hill here! I hope whoever owns it doesn¡¯t mind me borrowing it. I need a healing spell, and I need one now. But alas, my grimoire seems to be offline, and without her, I can¡¯t use my spells.


    I¡¯ll just have to make do with what I have. Wrap myself in the torn remnants of my uniform, apply pressure to the wound. Yeah, that sounds good. I enter the shack, my eyes adjusting painfully to the sudden change to darkness.


    A nap sounds good too. I¡¯ll just¡­ sit down¡­ right¡­ here. Don¡¯t close your eyes! Not yet! I tear my uniform into long strips, and pack them into the gaping hole in my chest. Wake up soon, PAGe. I¡¯ll just rest my ¡­head here¡­ for. a little¡­ while¡­

 [Ch. 8] - Captive Audience

    [Who: Nebula]


    [Where: Core Room]


    Okay, so it wasn¡¯t exactly multiple people like Miss Cherry implied. Just the one, as she showed me on the monitor. They were laying against the wall near the entrance of the room with the [Standard Slimes], quiet and unmoving.


    I want to dissolve the intruder so much it almost hurts. Miss Cherry urges me to hold off for a little bit, there¡¯s something she wants to try first.


    [[We don¡¯t know what they¡¯re here for. Why don¡¯t you go take a look before the other slimes get to them? See if you can¡¯t ascertain their purpose for me.]]


    I protest at that. I can¡¯t leave her alone! If Nebula isn¡¯t there, who is protecting Miss Cherry?


    It¡¯s fine, she assures me. If she needs me, she¡¯ll let me know. She can reach me anywhere, after all. [[Remember, we are One now. Wherever you are, so am I. Wherever I am, so too are you.]]


    Miss Cherry¡­ I think I¡¯m falling for you. I try to keep that one to myself, but I swear I hear a chuckle somewhere.


    But how will I know how to get back to that cave? From what Miss Cherry has told me, the hallways are in a constant state of flux. I¡¯d probably just get lost in that endless maze. I can¡¯t even remember which of the five doors in this room I used to get in here in the first place!


    But¡­ as Miss Cherry said, we are One. If she knows the way, as I¡¯m positive she does, perhaps Nebb- I can access that somehow too.


    Fudge it, I¡¯ll just pick a random door and hope it works, somehow.


    I focus my core and create my clarifying bubble-o-vision. Reducing my field of view from ¡°all over my amorphous body¡± to ¡°mostly concentrated in one spot,¡± I wobble it around randomly.


    Hmm¡­ I pick¡­ that one! Entering the first door that my vision narrows down at, I continue forward, moving my mass as fast as I can muster.


    I reach my goal unusually quickly. Maybe five minutes at most, with much fewer twists and turns than I remember there being. Weird.


    Well, she did say space-time was malleable around here.


    In the hallway with the trapped tiles, I ooze myself along the edges. Despite my body having done it on its own earlier, I¡¯m not yet confident in my ability to stick myself to a ceiling just yet. I¡¯d like to at least practice that first.


    Okay, time to find that intruder and DISSOLVE DISSOLVE DIS- No! No, I cannot dissolve them! I mustn¡¯t! She asked me not to, so I won¡¯t. I can¡¯t.


    Moving on past the [Standard Slimes]. It¡¯d be lying if I said they didn¡¯t creep me out at some fundamental level. They¡¯re just sitting there, all three of them, cores glowing, and I swear they¡¯re somehow glaring at me.


    Yeah, well the feeling is mutual. Besides, they¡¯ve got nothing on my dripped out self. I¡¯m way cooler than any of them! I gurgle at them menacingly. Nonplussed, they glow back at me. Just you wait, Nebby will have their day with them, no doubt! That¡¯ll have to wait, for now, I¡¯ve got a job to do.


    The place looks much less like a cave than I remember it being. More like a corporate office interior, heavy on the cave decorations. Bioluminescent moss grew randomly on nearly every surface, giving the place an eerie sort of feeling. Half melted cubicles fusing with stalagmites, patches of worn carpeting, rusted office equipment, and all of it in varying states of disrepair. I guess Miss Cherry¡¯s been remodeling a tad.


    Ah, there¡¯s the intruder! That¡¯s odd. I¡¯m not detecting any scent from them. In fact, they look almost¡­ like a plant in the shape of a young woman! Blegh! Gross! I can¡¯t dissolve that!


    I look closer at her. She¡¯s very short, for a start. Only a meter tall. Green skin, leaves in the hair, and a spooky looking book in her hand. Her clothes are torn and ragged, chest wrapped in torn strips of cloth. Something akin to golden sap is leaking through the makeshift bandages, pooling up below her.


    Lithe and thin, their body appears vaguely feminine. Everything about them is small, dainty. Adorable little thing. Reminds me of an elf, almost, especially with those long pointed ears of theirs.


    If elves were short, doll-like, and had dark green skin, that is.


    Now, I don¡¯t know much about humanoid plants, but I¡¯m thinking this one isn¡¯t very healthy. What in the world happened to her? I slap my pseudopod across her face, hoping to wake them up. Nope, nothing.


    A buzz shoots through my core. [[Okay, I¡¯ve got the data I need. Nebby, would you be a dear and bring her back here? Bring the book too. I have an idea I¡¯d like to try.]]


    Comfort washes over me with her words, telling me that all is safe now. The intruder is of no harm to us like this, and if my Miss Cherry desires it, so it shall be.


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    I think back to when I was trying to move rocks around. Back then, I was attempting to lift them like a human would, with arms and hands and all that. But that¡¯s not what I am, not anymore! I need to do this the Nebby way, the slime way.


    First, I extricate the book from her hand. It takes a few tries, as it seems that even in this unconscious state, she doesn¡¯t want to let go of it. Next, I wrap myself around the girl, feeling every minute detail. Sorry girl! It¡¯s either this or dragging you the whole way!


    Slipping beneath her, I surround the girl nearly completely. She hangs there limply inside of me, with only her head stuck out for air. We¡¯re about the same size, but I have the amorphous advantage here. Condensing my membrane allows me to strengthen my hold on her, keeping her fairly stable as I move about. Using the last of my spare mass to hold onto the ancient looking tome, I carefully grip the spine so as to not get the pages sticky with my slime.


    Once again, the journey takes a suspiciously short time.


    I place the unconscious girl and the book at the base of the pillar that holds Miss Cherry. [[Here you go, Miss Cherry! What are you going to do with her?]]


    [[Undo those wrappings for me and I¡¯ll show you. How about we play at a little doctor and nurse with our adorable yet vegetative patient here?]]


    ¡Á+¡Á+¡Á+¡Á


    [Who: Sprigg]


    A sharp piercing pain stabs through my chest, returning me to consciousness. There¡¯s a heavy weight on my arms and legs, keeping them in place. Ow! Not now, PAGe, can¡¯t you see I¡¯m not well? Her usual snappy response fails to break out.


    Oh. Right. She went offline before that whole random ¡®porting fiasco that got me here. I guess I¡¯ll have to make do without her for a while.


    Everything is damp and heavy, some kind of weight pinning me down. The sap loss must be worse than I feared, I can barely move, and I¡¯m so very tired right now.


    Ow! There it is again! What in the Pierced Moon is that? Ow! Ow! I know I¡¯ve got a hole in my torso right now, but it didn¡¯t feel like this before! It was more of a dull, cauterized ache, not this burning sharpness!


    The pungent tang of ripened grapes fills my nostrils, waking me further. Groggy, I open my eyes. Immediately, I shut them again. I¡¯m hallucinating, I have to be!


    The sting in my chest hits me again, jolting me to full awareness. Left with no other choice but to face reality, I open my eyes and greet the mutant monstrosity atop of me.


    The thing is a pastel purple, at least as large as I am, and it¡¯s got me stuck flat on my back. A white star rotates madly deep within it, orbited by swimming flecks of black and white. I struggle, but it¡¯s no use. The horrifying abomination of a slime simply gurgles at me and tightens its grip, somehow. PAGe! PAGe! PAAAAAAGE!


    Nothing. Scanning the room, I look for my beloved grimoire. There! Up against a weird crystalline and metal pillar! I can¡¯t reach her from here, as pinned down as I am.


    Just what is this place, anyways? It¡¯s massive! I¡¯m pretty sure I passed out in a tiny dark shack, not in this oversized warehouse!


    The stinging comes again, sharper and deeper this time. What the hell is that thing doing to me? Is it¡­ eating me? Tilting my head forward as best as I can, I¡¯m horrified to see it¡¯s digging around in my own freakin¡¯ torso!


    It does it again, and this time I convulse with the pain, arching my back with the intensity. Crud! It¡¯s getting worse! What the hell is it doing?


    One more round of deep stinging, the most intense pain I¡¯ve ever felt in my life. I nearly pass out, but either by some form of miracle, or perhaps just my dumb luck, I remain conscious. Burning spreads through me, viscous and hot. It squirms and wiggles through my veins, like it¡¯s searching for something. I shudder once, twice, but not a third time.


    It is times like these that makes me wish that I had lungs and vocal cords. As it is, I can only writhe in silence, until I¡¯m too exhausted to do even that.


    Then, just as quickly as it started, the searching heat withdraws from me, leaving me cold and empty. Seemingly satisfied with whatever it was doing, it slides off of me, moving toward the creepy crystal pillar.


    To my relief, it pays no mind to PAGe. Whatever its intentions are, it seems to not be interested in her. I¡¯m just glad she¡¯s alright. I hope she hasn¡¯t rebooted yet, I¡¯d hate for her to see me like this.


    I feel hollow, and looking down at myself, I think I actually have been hollowed out. That freak! It really did eat me! But it didn¡¯t finish me off! Just left me an empty, immobile shell of myself. What does it want from me? What is it doing?


    I turn my head again to the slime, and watch as it extends a dripping limb toward the pillar. Even as I watch, a small white gem grows from nothingness just above the end of its limb. Five points emerge from the stone, eerily matching the crystal floating within the mutated slime. It plucks the stone from the air, taps it against something atop the pillar, then again against its own core, removes it, and moves toward me.


    What the hell? What are you planning? Wait a second, is that what I think it is? Is that a freakin¡¯ monster core?


    The slime shoves the glowing white gem into the cavity it had carved out of me, filling every nook and cranny of my insides again with that grape-scented jelly. It detaches itself from it, leaving me with light purple slime and a shiny pale rock just floating around inside of me.


    It¡¯s uncomfortable, leaving me with a bloated feeling that fills every nook and cranny of myself. At least it¡¯s stopped burning. It enlarged the hole inside of me, hollowed me out, then refilled my insides. It seems to have a plan in mind.


    Just my luck to have been kidnapped by some kind of intelligent monster. It looks like no other slime I¡¯ve seen, giving off a sinister sort of aura. I don¡¯t know what the hell this thing wants with me, but whatever it is, it can¡¯t be good.


    Even now, I can feel the slime hardening inside of me as it dries out. It engulfs me, leaving my head and the hole it carved out exposed. Just you wait, you ugly thing, if I survive this, I¡¯m killing you the first chance I get. It drags me over to the pillar again, and places PAGe back in my hands. If I weren¡¯t so immobilized right now, I¡¯d be booting her up and using every spell we have to annihilate that mad thing.


    But I can¡¯t. I can¡¯t even move. I¡¯ve lost too much sap, too much bark. But I will persevere, I will fight. But for now, it¡¯s just nice to have PAGe back in my hands again. As my mind starts to slip away again into unconsciousness again, I hear her voice. It¡¯s quiet, but it brings me hope.


    I don¡¯t think the mutant slime over there knows why PAGe is so important to me, but with luck, which I seem to be lacking lately, I can use this to my advantage.


    The element of surprise is on my side, but only if I can last that long.


    So quiet that she¡¯s nearly inaudible to even my own ears, PAGe speaks again. ¡°Unreality levels: extremely high, but stable. User Sprigg Greenleaf located, scanning for health status.¡±


    ¡°Surroundings analyzed. Warning: Unknown variables found. Updating parameters. Note: Personal Automized Grimoire returning to full functionality. No available upgrades found at this time.¡±


    Her voice soothes the ache that still remains in my unmoving body. My energy is still ebbing away, but now it¡¯s calming, something to ground myself.


    I feel my movements slow, darkness beginning to encroach on my vision. PAGe, my one and only companion in this world, rests comfortably atop of me. I let the darkness take hold at last, and my mind finally slips away into the sweet oblivion of the night.

 [Ch. 9] Peanut Gallery

    [Who: Nebula]


    Miss Cherry is so kind! With her guidance, she and I saved that funky green girl. Her book seemed very important to her, so we let her hold onto it while she recovers from surgery.


    I left a lot of my mass inside her for some reason. I wasn¡¯t told the reason why, just that it needed to be done.


    The whole thing was very exhausting, but Miss Cherry tells me that as time goes on, I should be able to get better and last longer at moving around and dissolving things before needing to replenish my energy again.


    She says she has some ideas for that. That it¡¯s a good thing that this not-an-intruder is so compatible. Miss Cherry says that the green girl isn¡¯t an intruder anymore, that she¡¯s under Miss Cherry¡¯s protection now.


    No more angry hate in my system, no more urges to dissolve the planty person.


    Speaking of which, I have to wonder what¡¯s up with that. She practically consisted almost entirely of vegetation! Leaves, bark, roots, the whole gamut. Tasted bland and boring, like chewing on a pencil.


    I realize I¡¯m talking about a person here, a walking and thinking person, but I¡¯m complaining about how she tasted when I ate¡­ no, dissolved her.


    Well, she¡¯s not walking or thinking right now, she¡¯s just laid out there, unconscious with her book on top of her. Green tendrils, speckled with white crystals, slowly wrapping around her in some weird cocoon looking thing, while somehow avoiding the book.


    Some of the glowing white moss has even found its way to her, crawling up with a determined purpose in inch-worm fashion.


    If this really is Earth, I wonder what must have happened to make plants move around like they¡¯ve got someplace to be.


    I should ask Miss Cherry if I can name her. Wait. No, look at those clothes, torn as they are. She¡¯s got a culture able to mass-produce clothing. So she¡¯s probably got a name already, too.


    Shaking my upper goop to clear my mind, I turn my attention to my current task.


    Miss Cherry asked me for my input on some designs that she¡¯s making. She says that with the newbie, she¡¯ll have much more to work with for her [Recipes].


    Right now, we¡¯re working with what we¡¯ve got. She¡¯s using sugar to [Bake] gummy golems for the [Lobby] in the entrance, to go with the slimes in there.


    Hours pass like this, testing and implementing new designs.


    Little of it is similar to how I remember science and engineering being. The implementation of Unreality changes things, in bizarre but semi-predictable ways. As Miss Cherry clarifies, Unreality isn¡¯t magic, but it¡¯s not quite science either. It¡¯s more of an art, of intent and environment.


    It¡¯s not magic, either. That¡¯s got its own methods of use and implementation, drawing on Unreality to perform supernatural feats in logical patterns. Chant a word here, crush and boil an herb there, brew this, consume that, wave a wand or draw a glyph.


    Magic has laws. Unreality, apparently, doesn¡¯t. Magic is science, simple facts about the world that have been affected by the twisting, ironic, power of Unreality.


    I only know a little about this Unreality business, because the last that I remember, it was still a fringe theory. Too bad that I recall less about it than I do about my own former body.


    We¡¯re in the middle of [Baking] a guardian. Unreality pours through the crack in existence that is Miss Cherry, sloshing to fill an invisible mold. Intent solidifies, laws of physics and magic defied with her intent of creation.


    It¡¯s big, it¡¯s made of cocoa, and it¡¯s kinda lumpy. It coalesces into existence as Miss Cherry mixes together her [Ingredients], forges them into matter and magic. It grows, awe-inspiring in its own right. Even as it is forming, it is moving. Wider than it is tall, its gorilla-like body ripples as hardened chunks of chocolate gather together, disparate pieces floating at invisible joints. All of it held in place by imaginary tendons.


    It looks around, blinks its beady little eyes, and promptly sits right down. Floating arms and hands wrapped around an equally floating head as it¡ª no¡­ he curled up into a crouch and started rocking back and forth.


    Aww. Poor thing is overwhelmed. Just like how I was at first. Maybe Miss Cherry will let me name this one? I¡¯ll ask later.


    I know what he needs. I ooze over and plop myself next to him. I tap him on the knee, and get his attention. As I squash and stretch myself into various humorous shapes, his mood visibly lightens up.


    As he cheers me on, he claps his hands with each new shape I make. Encouraged, I shift into another one, more wonky than the last. By the end of it, we¡¯re both rolling around in shared silent laughter.


    [[Ugh. Look at this mess! Watch the splash zone, you two!]] A stern voice, fuzzily cracking.


    I freeze. Behind me is a trail of light purple residue and discarded slime, scattered all over the previously cleaned hexagonal core room.


    [[Sorry Miss Cherry!]] I call out. [[I don¡¯t mean to be such a slob! I really don¡¯t!]]


    A courteous static replies back, bubbling with amusement. [[Nebbie, Nebbie, darling, ii-i-it¡¯s fine! Watch!]]


    A flicker of white in the shadows, and my attention snapped to where it was. Growing from the ground was a column of brick, metal, and sugar clear as glass, all organically fusing with each other to create a large hollow cylinder.


    Dozens of clear tubes ran from the back of a glass-fronted, metal-backed tube as it sat at a slight backwards angle, bubbles running through the whole construction.


    Flat licorice ropes with stars on the end shot out of notches at the base of the machine. They swept the room, staying close to the ground. As their broad stars touch my dropped slime, it gets swept up into the main tube, filling it up slightly. At the same time, one of the tubes at the back turns the exact same hue of lavender as myself.


    I simply watch it in wonder.


    Amazing. Simply amazing! I want it. I need that power, the ability to bend Reality itself to my very whims! It has to do with that rift, the miniscule tear in Reality that the Core of Miss Cherry¡¯s has grown around. It leaks pure potential, the unknown, the eldritch and illogical.


    Without a mind, like mine or Miss Cherry¡¯s, to filter through, it just sits there, doing its thing. Building up, slowly changing local Reality in unexpected ways. There¡¯s more rifts out there, according to Miss Cherry. She says she can sense them, leaking in uncontrolled, and sometimes ironic (or worse, pun-ishing) ways.


    Unreality, when channeled by the mind. Weaved into shape with the stories that everyone tells in their mind. Imagination, one¡¯s own mind convincing the truth itself to be something other!


    Each person¡¯s ability to channel Unreality is different. Some are stronger, some are weaker. Some are strange, others fairly common. At least one is unique to each person.


    Before, Miss Cherry wasn¡¯t strong enough to do much on her own. But with mine as an extra boost¡­ Well, Nebula will let the results speak for themselves!


    And it¡¯s not just personal power, it shapes the land too! Stories, the folklore that people tell themselves, gossip and rumors, these too are latched onto by Unreality as they float around from mind to mind.


    Practically psychic power. At least that¡¯s how Miss Cherry puts it.


    There is only one way to know for sure, and that is to try to develop channeling it for myself! The true spirit of a scientist! Studying, watching, learning, hypothesizing, the endless testing. Rebuilding and testing again¡­


    I¡¯m lost in these thoughts as I watch the chocolate golem


    [[Nebby. I-I-I know you don¡¯t like to-to-to leave me alone,]] says Miss Cherry.


    I nod. She knows me well.


    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    [[Well¡­ I-I-I¡¯ve got Ceetee now! The guy I just baked and you¡­ gave input on.]]


    I¡¯ve got to agree. Dude looks strong enough to smash a man¡¯s skull in with his bare hands.


    [[Are you sure, Miss Cherry? I don¡¯t know, he looks a little¡­ distracted?]]


    The chocolate troll, er¡­ Ceetee, is just smiling happily at the ground, doodling in the dirt with his fingers.


    [[No doubt about it!]]


    I let off a gurgle. [[Well, if you say so.]]


    [[A-aa-and I do! Now, Neb, d-deary, I¡¯ve got a job for you!]] Her stuttering glitch picks up in intensity.


    [[A job?]] I ask, suddenly wary.


    [[Nebula, dear, I need you to go outside a-a-and EXPLORE for me. I-I need resources, things to study and build with. You need to work hard, grow and improve! You can¡¯t do that if you¡¯re stuck in here. As delicious as I¡¯m sure my candies are, you¡¯re a growing monster!]]


    I shrug my slime.


    Might as well. It¡¯d be a good opportunity to develop a power of my own.


    A happy chill runs through my core. [[It¡¯s decided then! Have funnnn!]]


    A few minutes later, I¡¯m at the entryway. It¡¯s¡­ intimidating looking. On the one hand, it¡¯s scary leaving my patron to fend for herself like this. On the other hand, I can finally indulge in my curious side!


    I was getting all antsy in there, only drawing up floor plans. I¡¯m a scientist (I think), not an engineer!


    Study, observe, experiment! Field work! Come on, Nebula! This is the one part of your humanity that you''ve still got!


    That¡¯s it! I just need to see this as field work!


    With glee, I start absorbing little bits of everything, letting it into my magnificent purple body. It breaks it down, analyzes every molecule of it.To start with, I eat those pinecones I left in a pile.


    To my surprise, there¡¯s tiny insects in there, making the ingestment worth the investment.


    Ingestment? If that¡¯s not a word, it should be.


    A particular scent catches my attention. I unfocus my sight, allowing the scent to wash over me. Cotton candy, popcorn¡­ stale circus peanuts? Latex?


    All together, they¡¯re oddly familiar. And then I see it.


    The Circus. Booths and tents, boasting of attractions of mirth and ¡®musement.


    I don¡¯t see a single soul around, just dozens of what look to be clowns amidst the ever-present calliope music.


    They smell¡­ so delicious. A veritable buffet of unknowns! And then¡­ voices. Not from the clowns, but off to the side, obscured by trees.


    I rush into the heights of the nearest tree, hiding as much of my mass as I can.


    The voices draw nearer, and to my surprise, I see what appear to be two fairly ordinary humans. Albeit, humans in the most ridiculous looking full-body multi-colored suits, with capes, gloves, and even funky little domino masks! The two of them looked to have walked straight out of a superhero comic book!


    With the long and pointed ears on both of them, the large spikes covering the rounder one, and the bizarre helmet with a tubular projection on the front of it on the other, they looked humanish in the same way the planty one does.


    At this point I¡¯m beginning to question whether this is really Earth or not. According to Miss Cherry, it is Earth, but she doesn¡¯t know exactly when on Earth we are.


    Or what it''s like outside of her walls.


    Then again, I don''t know any of that either.


    Which is exactly why I¡¯m out here. And what luck! People! I can¡¯t imagine they¡¯ll give something as wonderful as I am as warm of a welcome as Cherry and I gave to the plant girl.


    I¡¯d probably end up in some research lab or worse: killed out of fear. From what I¡¯ve seen so far, powers are so common that even animals have them!


    And since I don¡¯t want to die, not just yet, I¡¯m here, hiding in a tree.


    ¡°I¡¯m telling you, Swellfish, this is where we¡¯ll get the big score! There¡¯s untapped treasures around here!¡± The helmeted one speaks, confident in himself.


    ¡°All I see is a damn clown circus. That looks like work. Work to clear out. I hate work. Why did you drag me out here, HC? Anything remotely good in this forest must''ve been looted centuries ago.¡± The rotund one, covered in short conical spikes.


    ¡°Well, you see, I found a map!¡±


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯ve got a map, do ya now? When have they ever lead to anything, Headcannon?¡±


    Headcannon. That must be the helmeted one¡¯s name. Makes sense. He really does look like he¡¯s got a cannon growing out of his skull.


    Weird names, but I can see the logic behind them.


    So that would make the other one with spines Swellfish.


    ¡°Well, there was that one time with the snake rodeo¨C¡±


    ¡°That ended with a particularly nasty case of noodle virus. We lost every penny we had to that infernal hell pit! And before you bring up the goldenrods, those ended up being regular flowers, and not the stash of lost gold treasure that you thought it was.¡±


    ¡°I was right about the unicorn farm!¡± Headcannon bragged. I stretched over to the next tree as I followed them.


    ¡°You had us mucking out the stalls of genetically modified donkeys, you donkey,¡± complained Swellfish.


    ¡°The vampire den?¡±


    ¡°My doctor says I¡¯m still allergic to garlic.¡±


    ¡°What about the XChem job?¡±


    ¡°Which one, the one that ended in flames, or the one that ended in floods?¡±


    ¡°... It¡¯s a good map.¡± Headcannon pouted.


    ¡°You lead us into a damn circus filled with feral clowns! Just what is so special about that thing? Let me see!!¡± Swellfish lunged for the ancient paper in Headcannon¡¯s hands, with Headcannon skillfully playing keep-away with it.


    I hopped from tree to tree, watching the two bicker. This is a goldmine of info!


    ¡°Why do I even follow you in these schemes of yours, HC?¡±


    ¡°Aaw, it¡¯s ¡®cuz ya like me, Swellie!¡± Headcannon gave ¡®Swellie¡¯ a playful punch, only to be rewarded with a much more painful one in return.


    ¡°Ugh. I can NOT get my mind off that damn circus music! Argh! This is why I hate clowns! They get you where you least expect it!¡± Swellfish sighed. ¡°Since we¡¯re here, why don¡¯t you and I do something about that?¡±


    ¡°Why? What¡¯s in it for me?¡± Eyes narrowing in suspicion.


    ¡°One: you DON¡¯T get your ass kicked by me tonight. And two: don¡¯t lie, you¡¯re creeped out by them too.¡±


    Headcannon turns around, studying the glaring colors of the circus. Loose balloons floated up from time to time, inviting one to come closer. I was totally tempted, too, but I stuck to the two wanna-be treasure hunters like glue.


    There was something off with how the circus didn¡¯t have a single scream, a single peal of childish laughter ringing through the greasy stalls and rides. Just a single repeating squeaking tune.


    The stalls were put up at angles that were just a touch bit akimbo. Lines and angles put together in ways only seen in an architect¡¯s nightmares. Patterns clashed, patchwork pieces that didn''t quite mesh together properly. Looking at them too long was starting to give me a headache.


    Like the geometry wasn¡¯t quite all there, too uncanny. Not like Miss Cherry¡¯s clean designs that melded life with not-life. Different, twisted somehow. As though it were forced together. Harsh, angry.


    With what I was picking up, I was starting to get the impression that wherever I am, it¡¯s definitely not the old familiar Terra Firma I¡¯m used to. Genetically modified unicorns? Vampires? Noodle virus???


    And then there¡¯s the clowns. Much like with the circus, they didn¡¯t slot very neatly into the world. Grins too wide for their heads. Stretched out limbs of pale white skin, false smiles behind patterned faces and bulbous red noses.


    With my bubble-o-vision focus, I can see that it¡¯s not paint or fabric covering their bodies. That¡¯s their actual skin.


    In their solid black eyes, there¡¯s a look of hunger. They watch the two costumed crazies, silently cajoling them to approach. They wave misshapen caricatures of animals, rendered in lumpy sausage-shaped balloons. They whistle, they chortle, and they even chuckle.


    It¡¯s obvious that these aren¡¯t humans. They¡¯re imitations of a time-honored human tradition, but they aren¡¯t human in the slightest. Animalistic, crude, unintelligent things merely pretending at personhood.


    I¡¯d dissolve them without a single twinge of guilt. An abomination to my sight.


    Maybe at some point these things were cuter, less distorted. But over time, they¡¯ve changed, gone feral. From what Swellfish and Headcannon are saying, the clowns used to be tame, domesticated things, popular as pets during a very brief fad some generations ago.


    Forced to adapt after abandonment, these mockeries are no longer the kind child-adoring creatures they once were. Yeesh. With their high reproductive rates and proclivity for shiny interesting objects, these things are basically like fantasy goblins, only more¡­ colorful. More prone to child eating.


    Scary.


    Swellfish and Headcannon, for their part, slowly walk a giant circle around the circus, examining it from every angle. All while I examine them.


    ¡°Let me see the map!¡±


    ¡°No!¡±


    ¡°Where did you even get that thing?¡±


    ¡°Some weirdo in some traveling shop or other. You know, the usual.¡±


    ¡°What have I told you about talking to extra-dimensional shopkeeps?¡±


    Headcannon scratched at his helmet as he looked at his feet and mumbled. ¡°To do¡­ not that?¡±


    Swellfish¡­ swelled in frustration. ¡°Give me that!¡±


    ¡±No!¡±


    ¡±Then I guess I¡¯ll have to take it myself!¡± The two struggled, and a shot rang out in the forest.


    Everything freezes.


    The map, Headcannon and Swellfish each holding a torn and charred half.


    Smoke, gently curling out of the metal tube on Headcannon¡¯s helmet.


    A greasy rainbow of splattered clown guts and a crushed tent.


    The slow turning of eyes to the source of the noise.


    A purple slime, stretched between two pine trees, in plain view.


    And then, everything began to move again.

 [Ch. 10] - 3, 2, 1, Contact!

    ¡°Has that jelly been following us? That¡¯s weird.¡±


    ¡°The clowns! They¡¯ve got mimes!!¡±


    HONK HONK HONK!


    Splatting down from the tree, I hightail it out of there. Bravado? Powers? Pah! All of that pales in the face of the sheer horde of horrible at my rear!


    ¡°Run! Run away!¡±


    Right there with ya, HC! Staying secret? Hiding in the shadows? Growing strong from weak? Nope! Seeing what clown tastes of?


    All gone, in the face of those monsters! I¡¯m not ready to be a monster yet! I¡¯m not ready for any of this! I don¡¯t care what Miss Cherry wants from me, facing these things (and two very inept humans) is a bad idea!


    Retreating to the relative safety of Miss Cherry, my hope is that the monstrosities behind me get lost somehow. Past the other slimes, pumping my little gelatinous body as fast as it can go (not very fast), I make my way through the [Lobby]. Barely glancing at the changes she¡¯s wrought in the short time I¡¯ve been gone, shouts and honks chase me through winding corridors.


    Randomly picking corners to turn, I rely on my connection with Miss Cherry to keep me safe. Behind me, the terrible two shout directions.


    ¡±Shoot them, shoot them! Target the mimes!¡±


    ¡±I¡¯m trying! Give me a sec to recharge my biocannon! Hold on, Swellie!¡±


    FWOOMP.


    Thanks to my unique all-over vision, I¡¯m given the wonderfully bizarre sight of an inflated spine-covered human blimp blocking the way behind me. Swellfish had more than doubled in size into a roughly human shaped sphere, the ends of limbs and his head mostly buried within himself. His spines, previously fist-sized bumps, now jut out to become jagged arm length needles.


    Swellfish¡¯s muffled voice warned Headcannon. ¡°I can only hold them off for so long! Hurry!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m trying!¡±


    BANG!


    ¡°Ewwww¡­ Glittery guts everywhere¡­¡±


    ¡°Suck it, mime! Hey, where is this slime taking us?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re following the slime? I was following you!¡±


    This time, it wasn¡¯t a quick and simple jaunt through the hallways. My energy reserves were running lower and lower, all while dropping more and more slime, leaving a trail of purple behind me.


    A reprieve was sorely needed, and in the nick of time, I got one.


    Somewhere ahead of me, I begin to pick up a partially telepathic conversation. Miss Cherry and an unknown person were having a heated argument someplace nearby. Miss Cherry¡¯s voice echoes slightly in my head, full of static and audio glitches, while the other is clearly spoken aloud.


    They are talking about the weird green lady and the procedure I helped with. No idea why, I followed every instruction to the T. So there shouldn¡¯t have been anything that went wrong with it, I think.


    ¡°And did you even bother with asking first? Do you even know the kinds of risks you took there? What you could have invited from your blatant misuse of Unreality? Do you even know what your little surgery is doing to her?¡±


    Miss Cherry replies with a huff, [[Hey, i-i-it worked, didn¡¯t kssh? See-see-see, this is why I don¡¯t fudge a-around with magic. Too many rules, nnnnot enough art!]]


    ¡°Well, your ¡®art¡¯ could have killed her! This place isn¡¯t sterile at all! I have dozens of healing spells in my repertoire, any one of which could have done the job!¡±


    [[Iiii told you, I had that covered! Mmmy little slime [Companion] is p-pretty much a walking decontamination room, not a chance that a ger-germ could have gotten through!]]


    The unknown speaker¡¯s voice rose again. She, and it was a she, from what I could tell of her soft, yet stern, tone of voice, continued to berate my Miss Cherry.


    [[It¡¯s an art! I aaaam an artist! I¡¯ve-I¡¯ve-I¡¯ve created someth-kssh entirely unique, a treasure just for me, and it¡¯s all mine now! Just. Like. You are mine now!]]


    ¡°You can¡¯t just do whatever you want with her and I!¡±


    [[Obviously, I can, and I did. I caught the two of ya fair and square. Be glad I didn¡¯t decide ta off ya both.]] Miss Cherry replied, indignant to the protesting mystery voice.


    Behind me, the two clowns, sorry, heroes or adventurers or whatever they call themselves, continued their battle with the clowns. Their presence tempts me, scents of both groups wafting over me, making me want nothing more than to dissolve them all to nothing.


    With effort, my instincts are ignored for now. As nice as it would be, it just wouldn¡¯t sit right with me to eat them. Maybe the clown-things, if pressed and if there weren¡¯t so fudging many of them!


    ¡°Ew ew ew, this one¡¯s hitting me with a silk handkerchief whip, and it hurts!¡±


    ¡°Why are you letting it do that? Pop the thing with your spines!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m trying!¡±


    POP! Splat.


    ¡°Oh, nevermind, I got it! Keep shooting! We¡¯ve almost all of them!¡±


    ¡°Hey, Swellie?¡±


    BANG!


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    Fwoomp! POP!


    ¡°Why are we stopping?¡±


    Ran out of room to run, that¡¯s why, I think to myself. It comes out as a gglrgl-blup, with an extra fftz thrown in at the end for good measure. Ugh. I don¡¯t think I¡¯m ever going to get the hang of vocalization. In front of me is a dead-end hallway, a locked insulated freezer door taunting me.


    My pseudopods extend out, but they¡¯re nowhere near strong enough to turn the heavy latches, breaking apart when I apply force. Whatever material the door and handle are made of appear to be heavily resistant to my dissolving, oddly enough.


    Grumbling, I turn to my next best option: calling out for help with my burgeoning telepathy.


    With intent to think as loudly as possible, I direct my next thoughts to Miss Cherry. Not being as skilled as her, I can only hope that I¡¯m doing this right. WIth some concentration, my mind focuses on attempting to speak without speaking.


    There¡¯s a trick to it. It¡¯s not exactly speaking in words, but intents and emotions. Tap into your [HEART], deep in the center of your core (and you need a core for this, say my instincts), let it pulse or spin, and stretch out your thoughts like you would a pseudopod. Or as Miss Cherry put it, ¡®hallways.¡¯ I''m sure it makes sense to her.


    It¡¯s really astonishing just how quickly I¡¯m starting to get used to my new life. I can still recall bits and snippets of a life where I wasn¡¯t a glob of purple jelly, and the dissonance between the two modes is rapidly dwindling.


    This place is weird. Weird and dangerous.


    Finally successful in my novice attempts to use telepathy, I call out with an internal voice that differs from the one in my memories. More youthful, higher pitched and androgynous sounding than I feel that I should have had. [[Miss Cherry! I could use some support over here! Help!]]


    [[Back so soon?]] she asked. [[Ex-excuse me, we¡¯ll continue this kssh-ther time, hun. My art needs me!]]


    ¡°Hey! I wasn¡¯t done yelling at you! You can¡¯t just leave me here!¡± shouted the other voice. Clearly, she could, as Miss Cherry didn¡¯t even bother responding, concentrating instead on the invaders that I¡¯d inadvertently invited.


    A chilled presence fills the dead-end hallway, frost building up on pipes and brickwork as the temperature visibly drops, condensing from the leaking steam. Several clown-things start slipping in exaggerated motions, landing on their behinds to be showered in confetti by their neighbors.The corridor ripples, and the rest of the clowns topple over.


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    Frost crawls up their bodies, their movements slowing to a crawl until they are fully pinned to the floor. Cold, questing fingers of ice crawled forward, stopping just short of the shivering Headcannon and Swellfish.


    ¡°Is it just me, Swellfish, or did things get very, very, cold just now?¡±


    Swellfish just nods, wrapping his arms around his torso for warmth. ¡°Too cold¡­ c-c-c-can¡¯t inflate¡­¡±


    [[Nebby, you-ou brought me goo-d-d-dies!]]


    Swellfish and Headcannon whip their heads around. ¡°H-hello? Is someone there?¡± asks Headcannon.


    A burst of static, and her voice comes in clearer in my core. [[Nope! Just you, me, and a few dozen of whatever these¡­ things are. Nebby, would you be a dear and dispose of a few of these technicolor horrors for me? Leave the humans be, if you would. Their mutations are¡­ interesting, to say the least.]]


    ¡°You¡¯re imagining things again, HC. J-just the floorboards settling in this¡­ Cave?¡± Swellfish said, eyes wide as though this were the first time he actually took note of his surroundings. ¡°This isn¡¯t a cave, is it?¡± He looks up at the ceiling, filled with exposed wires and bare fluorescent lighting between rusted iron beams.


    Red bricks on the walls oozed with glowing white moss, and the echo of linoleum tiles rang under their boots. ¡°No, no it is not, Swellie. Not a normal cave at all¡­¡±


    The floor buckles under me, launching me over the heads of the humans. With an embarrassing splash, my body hits the exposed skull of the largest of the remaining clowns, a purple suited one with a too wide crimson smile, bleached white face, and messy green hair. Pinned down and frozen in place, the clown is helpless to defend against the strength of my dissolving enzymes.


    Swellfish trembles, pulling Headcannon closer to himself. ¡°I don¡¯t like this, HC. This place is creeping me out!¡±


    ¡°Shh! J-j-just let the m-m-monsters t-take each other out!¡±


    Reveling in the chance to finally replenish my diminishing energy, I take my time to soak in the flavors of my still-squirming prey. It still being alive adds pep and spice to my meal, which tastes nothing how I¡¯d expected it to from the scent it gave off.


    Hints of¡­ rust-flecked crowbar and¡­ the trilling notes of the first robin of spring? Makes me think of comic books and bubblegum. I shrug internally. Cruel of me to eat my food alive? My instincts tell me that I can gain more energy this way.


    Listening to my instincts has consistently served to help me survive much better than my human instincts, so I listen to them. My instincts take over, pushing me into the back. My body pilots itself, burrowing in and out of the rapidly dying clown. Bones crumble, meat melts, and organs pop.


    By the time that my senses are regained, I¡¯m most of the way through a third clown, bones and all. The rest of the clowns look on in horror at their impending doom. The two humans cower at the end of the corridor, metal door at their back.


    [[Voracious little bugger, aren¡¯t ya, dear? Leave some for later, why don¡¯t you? We could use these.]]


    She¡¯s right, of course. They¡¯d be great meals, honestly. As for the humans, though, something needs to be done about them. Eating them is always on the table, right?


    Woah, where did that thought come from? Don¡¯t I care at all about preserving my humanity at all?


    Just a bite wouldn¡¯t hurt, right? I¡¯m sure they¡¯d be fine without a finger. Or two. Ooh, or how about a whole hand? They won¡¯t mind me taking an eyeball as payment for saving them, right? Eyeballs are gooey little things that pop just right when the outer layers are dissolved, sending juices into my gelatinous mass, so naturally I¡¯ve especially been enjoying them when I get the chance.


    LIke right now.


    Should I be concerned that I¡¯m actually starting to enjoy this? My memory fragments don¡¯t have me being this cruel before. But then again, I¡¯m no longer human, am I? Not exactly bound by human rules and moralities, am I?


    In any case, I¡¯ve not felt a single twinge of guilt at my actions. Quite the opposite, really, with bursts of pleasure that satisfy my instincts. Might as well give in to them. Yet I¡¯m totally way better than any base monster, for I have the intelligence of a human guiding me, after all!


    ¡°There it is again! Swellie, are you sure you can¡¯t hear that?¡±


    ¡°N-no s-such th-thing as g-g-ghosts,¡± assures Swellfish.


    ¡°Then what is that?¡± gasps Headcannon, pointing into the frozen fog of cooled steam and mist.


    Slurping up the last of the blood of my third meal, which has brought me to full energy reserves, my attention turns to the object of Headcannon¡¯s fear.


    Two ethereal glowing red eyes pierce through the fog, illuminating a vague feminine figure. I can just about make out indistinct clothing resembling a tattered skirt and a pointed wide brimmed hat in flashes of pink, white, and hints of blue before they fade away again into the fog. The formless figure, just a darker humanoid patch in the fog, points to the metal door behind the terrified HC and Swellfish.


    [[GO, IN THERE,]] shouts Miss Cherry in a voice so loud my jelly trembles and my core aches. The latch clicks, and the door opens slightly ajar, as though a breeze has pushed it open. Headcannon and Swellfish turn to stare at it.


    ¡°Holy Pierced Moon, I heard it too! It.. It wants us to go through this door?¡± guessed Headcannon. Must be more sensitive to this telepathy thing than his companion.


    Once again, the corridor ripples, dislodging the half-frozen clowns. The door opens wider, accepting the gift. Landing safely on the other side, the clown-things sat there, unable to move.


    [[SEE? SAFE. GO.]]


    The two men nod, rivulets of sweat running down their foreheads. Sweating. Don¡¯t miss you, either! Just my simple slime for me, thanks!


    ¡°It¡¯s not going to eat us, is it?¡± asks Swellfish. The two approach the door with caution.


    [[WE WILL SEE.]]


    Swellfish and Headcannon shudder, probably from the cold that I can¡¯t feel, but can see through the fog of their breath and rapidly-forming icicles. Nonetheless, a shiver also runs through my jelly.


    Rolling my core in my best imitation of an eye roll, I slide into them, causing the three of us to tumble through. The door instantly slams shut. The latch clicks, and the door locks again.


    My mood brightens up considerably when I see what room we¡¯re in. [[Miss Cherry! I¡¯m sorry! I couldn¡¯t do it! The outside is scary!! I¡¯ll never grow strong enough to protect you, forgive me!]]


    I¡¯d cry, but lacking tear ducts, I gurgle defeatedly instead.


    Warm emotions embrace me, happiness fluttering through my core. She isn¡¯t mad, no. She¡¯s just happy that I tried.


    [[You did good, Neb. Now it¡¯s my turn,]] assures Miss Cherry. [[Why don¡¯t we take a little looksie at what you brought back for me, hmm?]]


    ¡°Oh. You¡¯re back. And you brought friends. Wonderful.¡± It¡¯s the voice from earlier, the one I heard arguing with Miss Cherry. Her voice vibrates against me, the jiggling interpreted by my core into words.


    I scan the room looking for the speaker. The vibrations are strongest in the direction of where we¡¯d last left the plant girl. Oozing to the pulsating cocoon of vines, roots, and mosses, my gaze wanders across it, looking for the source of the voice.


    ¡°Down here, ding-dong.¡±


    Oh! It¡¯s the book! A few roots hold it place against the root-ball. ¡°So you¡¯re the one who did that abominable procedure on my user!¡±


    Abominable? But it worked, right?


    ¡°Darn tooting, it worked. You saved her life, and I gotta thank ye fer that. If only that were all that ye did¡­¡±


    [[You can hear me?]] I ask, incredulous.


    ¡°Aye, that I can. It¡¯s a part of my job description, after all.¡± The book paused for a moment. ¡°Ye don¡¯t even know what it is ya did, do ye?¡±


    Not a clue, I think, with a shake of my upper mass from side to side.


    The book somehow manages to sigh. The pages between its covers flutter slightly. I swear it even sags slightly. ¡°No, I suppose ye don¡¯t. It ain¡¯t yer fault, kid. Those chains of yers are tight as can be. It ain¡¯t like ye had any other choice but to do as she asked, did ye?¡±


    What chains? Just a humble little slime here trying their best to not die a second time, to enjoy this new lease I''ve been given. Okay, so sure, I''ve given in to my urges more than once, but that doesn''t make me evil, right?


    Even if what I''ve done may seem a little cruel from a certain perspective. Killing is easy when your own body encourages it. As loathe as I may have been in a past life to hurt others, that is no longer the case. I just want to grow bigger, stronger, to learn and innovate.


    Morality? Bah! If my boss and creator says jump, you bet I do! She brought me into existence from the cold claws of death, and for that, I owe her everything. She could tell me to kill these humans, and I''d do it in a heartbeat. I don¡¯t know why, but I know with every drop of my being that I would.


    ¡°We¡¯re in luck! That¡¯s a PAGe!¡± came a voice behind me. Even with my full-body vision, my attention had been mainly on the talking book. Swellfish stood there, gazing thoughtfully at the trapped tome.


    ¡°Aye, that I am. I wouldn¡¯t do that, if I were ye.¡± Swellfish¡¯s hands shot back to his sides, having reached for the book. ¡°Go git yer own! I ain¡¯t up fer grabs!¡±


    The two men mumbled apologies. Instead, they looked around for other things to poke at. Swellfish started investigating the goop-cleaning device in one corner of the pentagonal room, while Headcannon reached towards me. ¡°Was the PAGe unit talking to this slime? Can slimes even think? I should bring it to a guy I know in the Academy¡­¡±


    ¡°Are ye two idiots? That¡¯s a dangerous mutant slime, a [Stellar Slime], and a bonded [Companion] at that! It¡¯ll eat ye without a second thought!¡±


    Hey, that¡¯s not fair! I¡¯d probably be sorry about it about halfway through! At which point I might as well finish what I started¡­


    Swellfish and Headcannon take a step back.


    ¡°And ye see this bushy tangle I¡¯m in? She¡¯s about ta hatch, and she ain¡¯t gonna be all friendly-like when she wakes up, if ye catch me drift.¡±


    Swellfish and Headcannon take several more steps back.


    ¡°Over there, that¡¯d be these monster¡¯s boss! Not the lug, the pillar it be standing next to! The lug is a guardian, harmless unless provoked. Ya two are in a right mess, ye are. I¡¯d ask the two of ye to take me away from here, but that ain¡¯t exactly an option right now.¡±


    Ceetee looked up from his doodle and waved before returning to drawing flowers in the dirt.


    ¡°That sounds¡­ Bad,¡± said Swellfish.


    [[Yes, yes, praise me more!]] crowed Miss Cherry. [[Tell them how dangerous I am!]]


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, I¡¯m getting to it. The boss lady is there, on the pillar in the middle of the room over yonder. She¡¯s in charge of all of these monsters. Honestly, the fact that ye two are still kickin¡¯ is because she¡¯s holdin¡¯ em back.¡±


    Swellfish stared skeptically at the crystal encrusted pipe pillar holding Miss Cherry¡¯s core. ¡°The rock on that thing controls all these monsters? Are you sure? It¡¯s just a rock, it doesn¡¯t look dangerous at all¡­¡±


    A rumbling rang through the room.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t me!¡± shouted Swellfish. ¡°I touched nothing! Totally didn¡¯t press any buttons on this weird tubey thing!¡±


    [[Hahaha! It¡¯s time! She¡¯s hatching! Book, tell the humans they might want to stand back a little. Nebby, roll those clownsicles to the cocoon! Ceetee¡­ Keep doing whatever you¡¯re doing.¡±


    ¡°I keep telling you, my name isn¡¯t Book! I am a PAGe, Personal Automized Grimoire! I am a highly sophisticated piece of information gathering ¡®n storage technology! And um¡­ You two humans! Things are about ta get a little spicy in here, might want to stand back¡­ AWAY from any suspicious lumps or blinking lights!¡±


    Worry on their faces, Headcannon and Swellfish shuffle over to the furthest corner of the [Core Room].


    [[Why does Nebby gotta do all the hard work around here,]] I complained as with some effort, and lots of grumbling, I roll the clowns into a rough pile next to the root-ball.


    CRACK!


    Wood splinters shoot through the air, the cocoon splitting in a vertical line down the middle. Vines tear, roots snap.


    Miss Cherry cackles, loud enough that I¡¯m sure that even the two humans could hear it. A thorn covered vine shoots out, impales one of the frozen offerings through the skull, and drags it back. Sparkling blood leaves a trail into the cocoon, leaking through the opening. The two humans wince at the sounds of crunching and wet tearing that ensued, until finally, the noises died down.


    More thorny vines reach through the crack, patting the ground a few times before retreating. A moment later, the cocoon¡¯s inhabitant steps out from the shadow within, revealing her new form for the first time.

 [Ch. 11] - Darkness Blooms

    [Who: Sprigg Greenleaf]


    [Where: Stuck In A Wall, Probably]


    [When: A Few Minutes Prior]


    Darkness surrounds me, awareness hitting me like a brick. Ow.. Well, that sucked.


    Unable to move, I can only sense that I am in a fetal position inside of something hard and round, that swaddles me tightly enough to almost hurt. Strange sensations course through my body, no longer in the excruciating pain of before.


    Did I die? Remind me not to do that next time, PAGe.


    Page?


    Well, great. PAGe isn¡¯t here either. Of course not. Just me, and whatever has me pinned down.


    I think I¡¯m still alive. Not really by choice, exactly, but I¡¯m alive. What in the world happened? Why didn''t that monster kill me? It had the opportunity, but it didn''t. Why did it save me? What could it want from me?


    For some sick experiment? To eat later? Oh, gods, I bet that''s it, isn''t it? It hollowed me out, ate my insides, healed me, tied me up and stuck me in a hole in the ground, ready for it to do it all over again!


    There go my dreams! No grimoire, no graduating. No more being able to prove anyone wrong. Just me, stuck as some mutated slime¡¯s personal pantry.


    They were right! I''m just a glorified plant! Why couldn''t my ancestors have merged with something less embarrassing? I don''t even have any thorns or toxins, let alone the ability to control plants like so many other plantmin can do.


    I kept hoping I''d get something, anything, really, when my powers came in, but I never got any.


    My magic isn¡¯t even mine! It¡¯s just reading from a book that anyone can buy at any chain magic store!


    So, I¡¯d long settled for the life of a Minor Mage, or if I got lucky, as a Private Eye. Realistically, I¡¯d be doomed to serve as a corporate drone doing spreadsheets. At best, I¡¯d be stuck supporting a team of supers from the background, or doing independent detective work. Everybody wants people with flashy powers on their teams, and that¡­ I lack.


    Sure, I can read spells from a book real good, but that¡¯s about it. That, and the more mundane plant abilities. Photosynthesis, a tough, barky outside, and sometimes flowers and branches grow out of my head.


    Purely decorative, mind you. Not even good for making someone sneeze from the pollen.


    Now, even my spellbook has abandoned me. If I ever made it back to the city, I¡¯d be pulverized by the first street thug I met.


    That¡¯s why I invested heavily in knowledge and intel gathering. The more I knew, the more valuable a member of a team I would be. And the more valuable I am, the more they relied on me, the more secure I could be in their protection. Recon, spycraft, and the forensic sciences. If they didn¡¯t want me out on the field, I would analyze it from afar.


    White breaks the darkness, interrupting my thoughts and piercing my eyes. A hole has opened in my restraints, temporarily blinding me with the brightness of it. Whatever force was immobilizing me vanishes, and suddenly, I¡¯m no longer fighting my restraints, but thin air. My fist, now unbound, strikes me in the face. The pain grounds me, reminding me of my situation.


    Without warning, an enticing smell wafts through to me, sending pangs of hunger that nearly threaten to overwhelm me. I stumble just a bit from the force, surprising even myself at how badly I want the source.


    Surprised at my own surprise, my own body betrays me, acting entirely on its own without my input!


    With a snap, my arm shoots through the crack, stretching longer, much longer than it has any reason to be, and it just.


    Keeps.


    Going.


    Finally, I feel myself latch onto something cold, and my arm snaps back like a rubber band. The extra length coils into my body somehow, but it doesn¡¯t stay still. It merely shifts around, restless, just waiting to come out again.


    Unable to control myself, I watch in horror as I feel my torso rip open, and my arm tosses the object within. My insides close up again, and twist, hard, tearing the thing apart. It¡¯s only cold on the outside, as I quickly find out, turning wonderfully warm and wet inside of me.


    Ecstasy! Delight! What little remains of my mind vanishes as I revel in the joy of it.


    And then it¡¯s over.


    The hunger vanishes as quickly as it came, and my senses return to me.


    Shaken, I stand there for a few moments, realizing for the first time that I am, in fact, standing now. Was that what I think it was?


    I think it was! I think I¡¯ve gotten ur-powers!


    Took long enough! Hoho, that slime is in for it now!


    Hesitant, I take a few steps forward into the light, my feet moving in an unfamiliar way, my body feeling strangely off. I stop just short of leaving my imprisonment, waiting for something to happen.


    Nothing does. I even reach my hand out and tap the ground a few times to see if anyone was watching. Just silence.


    Why? Does this mean I¡¯m not getting eaten?


    Is it just releasing me? Or is this just another part of the slime¡¯s twisted plan? It was clearly intelligent enough to form one. Slimes are usually mindless things, but not this one, not with the way I felt it move around inside of me.


    Another step, and I¡¯m out of my containment. Still nothing happens. My eyes take a moment to adjust to the brightness, and I scan my surroundings for danger.


    First and foremost, there¡¯s that accursed slime, weird core and all. It¡¯s next to that strange pillar in the center of the room that I didn¡¯t get a good chance to really look at earlier, and it seems to be watching me with idle curiosity. It¡­ No.


    That purple slime isn¡¯t an it. Too smart for that. I get the distinct impression that there is a sense of self there, a way to refer to itself. No¡­ Themself.


    It¡­ no, they (how do I know this? Where is this information coming from?!) are just idling there. In a far corner, on the opposite side of the pillar, are two unfamiliar Urmin, apparently cowering in fear of something. Probably the monsters.


    One, covered in spikes, and the other, with what looks to be a gun sticking out of the helmet on his head. They look to be adventurers or rogue heroes of a sort, their usually-flashy outfits covered in grime.


    Next to the pillar and the slime, is a large humanoid. Dark brown, with splotches of lighter brown and white over its lumpy body. Rough chunks of whatever substance it¡¯s made of float, independent of gravity. Somehow it gives off the appearance of thick muscles, making it look kind of like a burly weightlifter, of a sort. If one really squinted, maybe.


    The head is round, with an underbite showing off large teeth set below a thick brow, no nose in between. I suppose a nose wouldn¡¯t be necessary for the creature, would it? It¡­ No, he, (again with this?) grins at me, giving an encouraging wave.


    What in the world¡­ He, and the two Urmin and the slime, watch me, seemingly waiting for me to do something. The Urmin in fear, for some reason, and the monsters out of what appears to be curiosity.


    The room itself is pentagonal, large metal doors on each wall. Lines on the concrete and tile floor converge to create a star pattern, with the pillar in the middle. Atop the pillar, which I can see even at my modest height, now that I¡¯m no longer prone on the floor, is a white star gem in a crown of copper pipes.


    This whole place is giving me the creeps.


    Speaking of the floor, there¡¯s a pile of ice-covered lumps next to the object I¡¯d emerged from. Vines, moss, and roots form a rough ball, with a large crack in the middle, and even as I watch, my prior containment breaks apart into glittering particles that rapidly fade away.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    It leaves behind a leather bound tome, which would have fallen down had my arm not once again stretched unnaturally far and snatched it up before it could. I hold PAGe close to my chest, afraid to lose her again.


    The icy objects, on the other hand, give me an ominous familiar feeling, and with a start, I recognize what it is.


    I¡¯d eaten one, earlier. Worse, I recognize what¡¯s inside of them. The smell from before.


    Clowns. Living ones, still struggling under the slowly-thawing ice coating them.


    The more concerning issue was that I wanted to eat another one.


    And finally, that leads me to the matter I¡¯ve been ignoring. My body. It clearly feels different, and a quick glance and pat down confirms it.


    What the fudging sugar is this? I don¡¯t remember looking like this. And why did I say fudge instead of fudged? What?


    Oh no. This is bad. Rationally speaking, this is really bad. But why do I feel so at ease about it? Logically, I should be panicking! Running around like a headless chicken, absolutely terrified out of my mind!


    With that strange calm detachment, I paid my surroundings absolutely no heed whatsoever as I perform a quick body scan, feeling for the extent of the changes.


    First things first. My arms are no longer the delicate hands of a young Urmin woman, but a number of thick flexible vines covered in rose-like thorns, the ends of which split into fingers. It reminds me of a cat''s paws, with thorns for claws and vines for fingers. Manipulating the strange tangle was as simple as photosynthesizing, allowing me total control over each vine.


    They lead into my torso, which has become a shifting mass of the vines that cover me like a robe. Under me, supporting my weight, are not the legs I expected, but four stalks of tangled roots. The way everything moves is unfamiliar, but instinctual.


    It feels wrong on so many levels, but also so right on so many others.


    My hands, or the bundle of vines that resembles them, pat my face, relieved to find that it hasn¡¯t changed there all that much. A lot rounder, perhaps, maybe more mossy than I remember, but intact.


    My leaves are still there, bouncing away. They feel stickier than usual, but I chalk that one up to my prior containment. Two sharp, squat branches curve back a little from just above my forehead, reminding me of horns, almost. Still decorative, but better than nothing, I suppose.


    The most worrying part is that I no longer have a neck, leaving my head to float freely above my torso, allowing me to turn my head in all directions around me.


    Upside down, backwards, it was all causing my head to spin. Literally.


    Body check done, I turn back to my captors, the slime and the new one, intending to rip them a new one with the help of my newly recovered PAGe. How dare they do this to me? I mean, sure, it looks like I¡¯ve got powers now, powers I can barely control, but I¡¯m sure they could have gone about it less roughly!


    Even in this changed body, I still have no voice, so I can¡¯t exactly yell at them. That¡¯s what PAGe is for, why I sprung for such a high-end model with the personality chip and thought-to-speech module.


    I¡¯ve got just the right spell for this. I¡¯ll have to let it recharge after I use it, of course, but it¡¯s worth it if I can give these things even a piece of my mind. They healed me up in the most painful way possible, transformed my body without my consent, fed me dubious food, and now they¡¯re just sitting there, ripe for the kill.


    Those Urmin in the corner seem useless to fight as well, appearing to be too terrified to do so. No matter. It just means it¡¯s up to me, instead. Those monsters will regret what they did to me! I open the oddly silent PAGe, intending to use the biggest fireball spell I¡¯ve got.


    And something stops me before I can tap the page and activate it, a great invisible hand that holds me tightly in a painful grip. I squirm under its grasp, leading me to drop PAGe, and the force vanishes.


    That¡¯s when it hits me. The one thing I forgot. The thing they put inside of me. I can feel it in my torso somewhere, still aching from the pressure the force was applying to keep me still.


    The replica of the slime¡¯s core, it¡¯s still there, deep within me. I sense it there as I continue my internal probing of my new anatomy, and it probes me back. It warns me, with a sense of dire urgency, that I must keep it safe, free from harm. That if it were to be damaged, so too would my mind and my body.


    That sounded really bad. Like, really really dangerously bad, and now that there was one floating around somewhere inside me. At first I think of tearing it out, but a jolt of pain stops me each time I move to do so.


    I pick up PAGe again, intending to ask her what was going on. I don¡¯t know how her thought-to-speech module does it, but she can understand what I want to communicate.


    PAGe, what the fudging sugar balls is going on?


    ¡°Ah. Was wondering when ya would get to that. Hello, User Sprigg Greenleaf! Welcome to the world of the waking, and all that. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve noticed a few¡­ changes. For one, you are no longer an Urmin of the Plantmin race. You¡¯ve been¡­ how do I say this delicately¡­ made into a monster,¡± said PAGe, in the most tactless tone of voice ever.


    What.


    Again I say¡­ WHAT.


    ¡°Like I said, you¡¯re not Urmin anymore. You¡¯ve had a monster core implanted into you. It saved your life, but it also bound you, changed you.¡±


    I get the changed part, but what do you mean by me being ¡®bound¡¯?


    ¡°There¡¯s no easy way ta say this. But I¡¯ll try anyways. Ahem,¡± said PAGe, clearing a throat she didn¡¯t have for effect. ¡°First: the good news! You¡¯ve got powers now! Yay! Bad news: you¡¯re a slave to the whims of a greedy ghost.¡±


    WHAT.


    Don¡¯t you fudgin¡¯ mess with me, you overgrown notebook! And what the sugar happened to all my cusses! I had some real good ones, now they''re gone, replaced with inoffensive pastries!


    The book squirms in my hand¡­ Claws¡­ paws. I''m just gonna call them paws.


    ¡°They can hear you, you know,¡± she says.


    What? Who''s ¡®they¡¯? What do mean, hear me? I''m mute! No voicebox! You know this, PAGe, that''s why you''re my voice in the first place!


    [[I suppose introductions are in order, aren''t they, Sprigg Greenleaf?]]


    The feminine voice that breaks into my head is distant, rough and scratchy, like it''s coming through an old ham radio. Nevertheless, it comes in fairly clear, despite the audio interference. I look around frantically for the source, and fail to find it.


    Who said that? Where are you?


    [[Why, I''m all around you! I''m that ¡®greedy ghost¡¯ your book mentioned. The name is Cherry Maraschino, and you belong to me now. That little purple kid over there, that''s Nebula. They''re my bonded [Companion]. And that''s Ceetee, the big lovable giant that he is, he''s new. Say hi, Ceetee!]]


    The brown elemental floats a hand up and waves at me again, a toothy grin on his face.


    [[Nebby, you too! Try using your telepathy, I know you''ve been practicing!]]


    The purple slime turns their weird core towards me, and I hear a different voice in my head. It''s soft, if a touch pitchy, and gurgles a little as my tormentor speaks. Young-sounding and androgynous, as well.


    [[H-hi! You woke up! It''s nice to finally be able to speak to you! I''m Nebula, but you can call me Nebby!]]


    [[Don¡¯t forget to wave!]]


    Nebula waves an extension, and I can¡¯t help but wave back.


    Oookay¡­ first I get transformed, now slimes are talking to me? And there¡¯s a¡­ ghost claiming to¡­ own me??


    It''s official, I''ve lost my mind. This is all just hallucinations of my dying brain as I bleed out my life sap in the forest, isn''t it?


    ¡°Afraid not, User Sprigg. This is real. Unprecedented, bizarre maybe, but real.¡±


    Lies! I''m dead, aren''t I? I died and I''m in hell, being tortured by impossible things! Slimes don''t talk and ghosts aren''t real! Thanks for the heals and all, but I¡¯m outta here! I¡¯ve got things to do! If I escape, and find out where I am, I could probably make it back before the deadline!


    ¡°Um, excuse me, I hate to be a bother, really, but who or what is that PAGe unit talking to?¡± asks one of the Urmin adventurers, who I¡¯d totally ignored up until now.


    Can¡¯t they hear the slime and the girl who claims to be a ghost? What did she mean, I''m hers now?


    Overwhelmed, I shake PAGe with anger.


    ¡°Okay, okay, calm down, User Sprigg! There''s no need to be so rough and violent!¡±


    Ugh. She''s right, of course. She always is.


    ¡°Take a seat, and just sit down by the pillar over there. Yes. Next to the monsters. They won''t hurt you, User Sprigg. They can¡¯t. Sit down, and good ol¡¯ Auntie PAGe will explain it all.¡±


    Unwilling to do so, my feet¡­ sorry, roots, my roots don¡¯t budge a centimeter.


    [[Sprigg, play nice! Go sit with your new friends!]]


    Once again, my body moves of its own volition, and I find myself sitting as directed.


    Well, more like raising my legs into my torso somehow, making it so that my cloak-vines meet the ground. It feels strange like this, sitting in an unfamiliar-yet-natural way that¡­ actually feels kinda nice, come to think of it.


    The two Urmin hesitate for a moment, looking unsure. They give each other a glance, silently communicating between themselves, before seating themselves opposite the monsters and myself.


    [[Now where was I? Oh, yes, I remember now!]]


    Something red and sticky oozes through cracks in the floor, rising up to form letters in the rapidly chilling air.


    RUN AND HIDE.


    SEEK AND FIND.


    GO BACK TO WHENCE YE CAME


    LEAVE NOW, NEVER TO RETURN


    UNLESS HER HEART YOU¡¯VE GAINED


    SATE THE SPIRIT


    OR BE ONE WITH THE SUGAR


    The words simply float there, and the longer I stare at it, the more they etch themselves into my mind. The wind picks up drastically, despite there being no obvious source of it, and the temperature drops rapidly to match.


    Eh? What¡¯s happening now? Don¡¯t tell me my revenge¡¯s been cut off short!


    I don¡¯t have long to ponder, because the next thing I know, the world is turning literally inside out, upside down, all in a high-definition mass of solid black and white.


    Oh no, is the last reasonable thought I have, before my faculties shut down from the sensory overload.