ã€ŠYour New Slime God, Cidã€‹


 The Ship Was Named Solace

    Year 25, day 45 of being alive.

    I¡¯ve been drifting in the cosmic sea for 100 years. Floating along the ethereal breath gives a guy a lot of time to think. There are three critical things you need to know about me.

    <ol>

    <li>I am a god.</li>

    <li>I have a slime body. We have to get that out of the way because that''s what everyone asks.</li>

    <li>I am currently drifting in space after the ship I was on exploded.</li>

    </ol>

    The ship¡¯s name was Solace. It was made of the finest wood salvaged from other broken ships. Imbued with the most potent spell our Wizards, who were half drunk at the time, could muster. The finest sail with the whole batch with the clothes of dead crew mates. It smells milky and like fresh vomit. I mean, the ship worked. We were able to float off the small colony on a comet and set sail to a treasure our Captain discovered on an old map.

    I was resting in the crew¡¯s quarters, where the milk smell was oddly the strongest. When I sleep, I form a ball. The two black ooze balls that are my eyes dissolve into my orange-goo body. Think of a small ball of comfort but wet. I was asleep on a pillow in the corner of the cabin when one of my crewmates kicked open the door. My eyes formed as people in the cabin woke up from the sudden entrance.

    The one yelling at us was a young lad in his twenties who dreamed of adventure. A dream he would regret. How do I know he came into the cabin with snot running down his nose and tears in his eyes, screaming, ¡°I regret getting on this ship; a Comet Swallower is heading to our ship.¡±

    A beast that sends shrivels down anyone¡¯s spine. Cosmic Swaller¡¯s dwarf the size of any ship, with its eyes being mistaken for far-off moons. Their backs are made of comets that have gotten stuck; their bristle teeth are the graveyard of any ship that dares cross their path. A best of hunger, but not malice. All it wants is to fill its belly.

    Then the skeleton-ridden bristle of the whale chomped on the ship, breaking the magical barriers protecting us from the emptiness of space and providing an atmosphere for the crew, and sending everyone in the cabin hurtling to their death in space. Ten¡¯s leg was caught in the chomp. He looked up at me and said, ¡°i wanted to do something more with my life,¡± before getting sucked into space.

    Everyone from Captain Cloud, Kevin, Jerome, Luis, Linda, and Marcy were sent into the void, unable to breathe. Some wizards tried firing off spells at the beast but might as well throw packing peanuts to the house, hoping to crack a window.

    I stretch out, sending my tendrils to anyone who could grab it. I was fast, but not quick enough, as many I grabbed either died when the ship was destroyed or passed in my arms as we drifted into space. Their final words to me were calling out my name.

    ¡°Cid, help us.¡±

    ¡°Is there anything you can do, Cid? ¡°

    ¡°Cid, thank you for grabbing me.¡±

    ¡°Cid, your body is warm.¡±

    ¡°Cid, don¡¯t cry.¡±

    My final words to them were, ¡°I¡¯m so sorry.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t save them and was no match for the Cosmic Swaller. I was the sole survivor of the ship,¡­again.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    This story makes the previous fact confusing but doesn¡¯t make it any less true. I am a god.

    I made this discovery during my adventures through this space. Before I set sail to the stars, I was floating on a rock where I first woke up. I have no memories of my home. Not a name, not a sky, I don¡¯t even know if it had a sunset. I have never seen one. I¡¯ve seen stars die, and I once saw a wizard named Blund cast a fireball over a comet, and it landed on the other side. That was cool. His final words were, ¡° I can totally swallow a sword; I¡¯m a wizard.¡± Before finding out, he couldn¡¯t.

    The place where I float is called the Conscious Sea, which is a lie. There is no water, just a bunch of floating rocks and sailboats with thrusters. I spent most of my time staring at crossing ships and rocks when i wasn¡¯t part of a crew. The variety of people on these ships is crazy. Tall and short, skin, scales, or hair, funny or boring. I have seen thousands of people but never one like me.

    I am the only person made of fluid ooze, and people make sure to mention I am the first of this kind they have seen. So I tend to wear a shirt and pants to make people comfortable and take a humidor shape. I can¡¯t form a face, so my black ooze balls for eyes have to do. I don¡¯t have eyelids, so people have told me my ¡°lack of blinking is horrifying .¡± I find their need to suck oxygen through a gaping hole in their face horrifying. Why not use the tiny holes to each side to breathe, but they just say they can¡¯t. I say they aren¡¯t trying enough.

    I was on a ship before Solace, the Blue Diamond. I started a short while ago, either a few days or months. I can¡¯t tell the difference. Either way, it was long enough for me to feel bad that the ship exploded during a duel with another. They fired a cannon perfectly at our fuel tank. I liked how the blazing flames matched the hue of my body. I miss them.

    During this remaining, I feel a gentle pull in one direction. As if a soft breeze was nudging me in one direction. Then, it grows stronger and stronger until I am hurdling toward the surface of an enormous jagged rock. It was the size of a half-moon, cut like one, too. There are artificial lights sprinkled about on its surface. The shape was bumpy and jagged like a turtle¡¯s shell. I am trapped in this asteroid¡¯s gravity, falling to my death.

    First, I calculated a plan. Step one, scream! Do you think I can¡¯t make a sound without air? Well, you''ve never heard a slime scream, and trust me, i don¡¯t need air. My head inflated three times its size, and I screamed as loud as I could. Now, step two of my plan.

    My body sings and boils as I break the atmosphere of the comet. My body is being cooked as my mass begins to shrink. Maintaining my form is difficult if I let my mind stray, I can disperse like a yellow falling to the floor. The best move is to slow my descent. I flatten my body by stretching it as far as i can in the shape of a square. I stretch farther and farther, trying to cover the horizon. I then connect the corners of my body and tie them together. I turn myself into a makeshift parachute.

    Now, I am floating again, but at least this time, it is in the sky. From up here, I can see the lights far in the distance. It could be civilization or a bushfire, like a big one. It is clear to me that my brain ooze was still boiling because if i didn¡¯t flood my mind with random thoughts, i would pass out and hurtle to the ground. I have survived many things, but a free fall from this height will be testing my divinity.

    Fun fact:

    Brain ooze is what I call my thoughts, as I am not entirely sure where my consciousness is stored. I don¡¯t have a centralized nervous system like most flesh people.

    Before Solace¡¯s destruction, I was a strapping seven-foot-tall slime. Right now, my body is so thin it would make one-ply toilet paper feel like a duvet; I have enough ooze that if i took my humanoid shape, i would be about two feet tall. I land on the barren dust clearing, still intact. All I want to do is bury myself in the dirt and sleep, but the lights aren''t too far off. If that is a city, there will be food. Then probably a post office. I have a lot of final words to write to a lot of families. Something I have gone to a custom too. At least my handwriting is pretty.

    I alter my shape to be running on all fours like an animal. My feet are round paws, and my body is cylindrical and smooth. I call this form ¡°Sleath Bean.¡± Running makes it easier as I make my way through this desolate wasteland, looking for my next meal, but then reality hits me. The ship was destroyed, with my pants, bag, and every piece of silver and copper I own. I am now stranded on an unknown hunk of rock with no money.

 A Silent City

    Free from the dust and dirt of the outskirts, I am welcomed to the city with grime and damp cobblestone. I stick to the shadows of the dark alleys. It must have been walking to get here for a week or a month. I can¡¯t tell, but it must have been at least a week. The sun never rose during that time, so it was hard to tell time. On the outer rim, I caught the sign for the city.

    ¡°Welcome To The City of Resur.¡±

    My strength is depleted, and I can no longer hold my form. My body melts, and I¡¯ve been reduced to a puddle behind a small restaurant that smells of salt and fragrant herbs¡ªlike the best scent after a long day of work¡ªif that day were a week and work was fighting for survival.

    Fun Fact:

    I need food and water. Not as much as most other species. I can go months without food, but my mass does reduce. With how much I already have lost, I am STARVING. Hehe, I think I am close to death''s door, and I fear death is coming for me.

    My luck turns because I smell barbeque! In this alleyway, behind a restaurant, a delivery boy opens the back door. He is wearing a red shirt with short sleeves, barring the restaurant''s name, ¡°Birds Best BBQ.¡± What caught my eye was his arm tattoo. It was of a rabbit eating a small flower on his forearm.

    The delivery boy hops on his bike with a backpack strapped on. My form is still weak and liquid as my hold weakens. My mind focuses on reforming one arm, one little slithery arm. It doesn¡¯t need fingers or to look humanoid. A single tentacle is all I need. I form one, it¡¯s thin, and if I¡¯m caught, he will probably stomp on me until I can¡¯t move. It has happened before, and fear is a powerful motivator. I slither a tendril into his backpack and remove one of the Togo orders.

    I pride myself on my stealthiness. I only hit one trash can while taking out a styrofoam container and bringing the food back to me. His head whips around at the sudden noise. I see he has a circle tattoo or cursive lettering around his right eye. I mustered enough strength to pull out the performance of my life.

    ¡°Squeak, squeak, squeak, squeak. ¡° Nailed it. I slept next to enough rats to know what they sounded like. My divine luck hits again, as there is at least something akin to rats on this asteroid. He shrugs and rides away.

    I open the Togo order to find a mountain of noodles and a peeled, cooked insect the size of a fist. I slammed my face into the plate. The noodles dissolve as they float through my body. The bug lays in the center of my oval body for a while longer as it takes some time to chew. My chewing is different; it is more mashing all around the bug as it dissolves in my ooze. A conscious choice, that is. I can turn my dissolve feature on and off. I can dissolve anything, though it takes time, depending on what it is. My acidity is as strong as a human''s stomach acid.

    The bug taste spicy but tender. I hope I get a chance to try that, though the chances of me returning are slim to none. Once I regain my strength, I am on the first ticket off this rock and onto a brand-new planet. A place where I can settle down and relax for a while. After jumping from ship to ship, I want to park myself in a lovely city and do whatever a god is supposed to do. That''s why I am opening a church and helping anyone I can. Yeah, that sounds peaceful.

    My mind is lost in the thought of the small aced building with curious onlookers asking me for my sage wisdom when a daydream slips into a dream. I can feel the air shift around me, from cold to wet to scorching hot to cold again. This cycle continues throughout my dream.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    I wake up from my little nap to see an old man riding a bike like the previous delivery boy. He is much older with greying hair. I believe the tattoos must be a part of the uniform as this man has the same two tattoos as the previous man. Maybe it''s this wrinkled face man''s attempt to connect to the youth around him or his way of clinging to any young energy he has left. Either way, I formed enough mass to assume my humanoid form and sprout my legs and arms. I stand m 7 feet tall. The negative is I am a giant orange NAKED glowing sign. I need to find clothes quick if there is any chance of blending in.

    Stepping out of the alley, I see a small city buzzing with people. The architecture is like many rocks of the cosmic sea. The buildings are made from the wreckage of ships and previous towns. The quality of the build depends on the skill of the craftsman and their money. This city section was built by some talented, broke construction workers.

    Where I stumbled in was the market section. Various restaurants and food stains stain the air with their delectable scents. Various fashion stores give it a touch of color, and the rest are par for par in other towns. You know, gift shops, weapon stores, adventuring supplies, monster parts, a candy shop, all the essentials for a long voyage.

    Fun fact:

    As a god, I don¡¯t condone stealing unless it¡¯s for survival. I punish those who take from the needy and allow those with no other options a chance for redemption. This is a cardinal rule of mine.

    So I squeezed under the door gap into a clothes shop''s back room and grabbed a few items¡ªjust a shirt and pants. I don¡¯t want anyone screaming at me for being a naked monster. Just being a monster is enough for me. I grabbed a navy Henley shirt and khaki cargo pants. I also grabbed a cross-body bag. I don¡¯t have anything to fill it yet, but I will.

    I walked out of the store and received my usual strange glances. I hoped it was because I am a luminescent ooze and not because they wondered if I stepped out from the back or if my clothes were familiar. Once on the street, I heard the bustle of people walking by as they talked and focused on their own world, the sounds of a busker singing a song I¡¯d never heard, and the screams of a kid charging at a grown man with a knife.

    The boy¡¯s shout betrays his age. He looks around 10 but screams with decades'' worth of pain. He had a brown mess of hair. His clothes were dirty but not disheveled. A few dirt stains on his blue blazer, blood stains on his black t-shirt, a rip around the knee of his navy-colored pants, and scuff marks on his sneakers.

    He charges at a man that must be four times the boy¡¯s age. He has a red velvet coat, slicked-back hair, and a well-kept beard. The man sidesteps the kid with ease and knees him in the stomach. The kid drops the knife and flops onto his knees. Vomit rushes out his mouth, and he is left gasping for air. to his knees and vomits on the floor.

    ¡°Whoa, kid almost had me.¡± The man chuckles, and the boy gasped for air. ¡°I¡¯ll give you props, trying the MURDER me in broad daylight. I mean, I get it. I bet some people here wish they had your guts.¡± The crowd, watching the event unfold, avoids the man¡¯s gaze as he says this.

    The boy didn¡¯t hear a word as he was vomiting what little he had in his stomach. The man picks up the knife and holds it over the kid''s bent head.

    ¡°I¡¯ll kill you.¡± The kid lets out with his eyes locked into the man¡¯s. The heat of his rage radiated off his body.

    ¡°Big words, but I have the knife.¡± The man says. ¡°Want to play a game? I¡¯m going to stab. Maybe I won¡¯t kill you, maybe I will. The question is, do you think anyone here will stop me? If someone does, you win, and I¡¯ll let you live. If they don¡¯t, I win, and I¡¯ll leave your body out here on the streets.¡±

    The knife is raised higher. I readied myself for the outcry of the people, a mad rush on the madman. I will join them; I can stretch my arm and grab his hand while the others tackle him. No one moved. People avert their gaze, grip on what they hold tight, eyes full of rage. Yet, no one moved. I see an officer in the crowd, and he lowers his eyes.

    This man, whoever he is, everyone avoids his gaze; his actions are ignored. His words carry the shadow of his true command: ¡°Do not interfere.¡± Everyone here follows it with no hesitation. They will wake up regretting what they see, and parents cover the eyes of the children.

    The blade lunges down.

 A Proclamation No One Cares About

    A thin tendril fires out of my hand and wraps around the hilt. The man can''t bring the knife down as I hold it back. His eyes follow my tether back to me, stepping forward to the crowd.

    This is my moment¡ªa declaration of my presence among the masses. I must be delecated and approachable but convey the weight of who I truly am.

    I take a heavy step, and everyone''s eyes are on me. The sunlight pierces the sky and hits my bright orange ooze. I glow with a powerful aura. No one speaks. Makes sense, not every day you are in the presence of divinity. They can also be terrified by my appearance, but I''ll push that thought to the back of my head and speak.

    "Hi, I''m Cid." You nailed it. Who can ask for a better delivery? My voice was steady, but I dropped it an octave because I''ve been told my voice''s pitch is a bit on the high end.

    "Who are you?" The man replies.

    "I AM CID!" I shout, as he must not have heard me. It must have been too loud, as he covers his ears, and I notice a window cracking as I speak. Of course, I pretend not to see it, as I don''t have the funds to pay.

    "Sorry, everyone." By the looks on their faces, the people showed that my thanks were not well received. I pointed at Van with the hand attached to the knife and struck a power pose. My legs spread, my body titled, my confidence radiating off my glimmering body.

    "Not you, though. You kid-killing crazed criminal. "I say, lowering my voice.

    "Criminal, he came at me trying to stab," he says, pointing the knife at the kid.

    "Oh... that is true," I say, looking at the kid who stares at me, confused on whose side I''m on.

    "This is self-defense." The man''s grip on the knife tightens as he smiles at the kid.

    "Okay, that''s not true. None of this is self-defense. You are threading the kid''s life and playing sick games. Look, I can help you. I can provide absolution...maybe."

    "It''s clear you are new to town, unfamiliar with the rule of law. I''ll make sure to explain it to you well after I finish off the true criminal." He says, pressing the knife''s blade to the boy''s cheek.

    "Look," I yank the blade back as a subtle reminder that I have power in the conversation. "I get he tried to stab you."

    "I''ll do it again!" The boy shouts out.

    My face stretches all the way to the boys. "I''m trying to help you," I snap back at him. The intimidation tactic must have worked, as the color on the kid''s face is flushed out, as are many people watching in the crowd.

    "No, he won''t," I reassure the man.

    "Yes, I will." The kid spits back at me.

    "You''re not helping!" I stop shouting as I feel a tug on the knife. The man was trying to stab something. It wasn''t aimed at the kid; it was going toward my head.

    "Enough. You can jump in," The man says. At that moment, I feel a flash of heat above my stretched-out neck. I retract my head back to my body as a Peterson obscured in clocked and a metal black mask pieces a long, thick blade into the concrete. It was aiming at my neck.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    "I am trying to stop the violence," I shout to the man. "And here you go, trying to cause more and cut my head off." I turn to the crowd. "Am I right? We can all do..." I stop talking. The look of fear on their face is mixed with recognition. Everyone here is familiar with the masked man, meaning he is with the knife-wielding maniac.

    The masked man moves close to the man with the knife as he breaks free from my grip. The kid''s eyes widen in fear as the prospect of his death has finally hit him. Tears form on the edge of his eyes, but they can''t extinguish the anger in his glare.

    "Listen, Goo guy. You have potential. I''ll give you that. Looking at your clothes, you could use a few bucks," the man says with a grin.

    "These clothes are new," I whisper back.

    "I run this town and everyone who lives in it. I control every aspect of everyone''s lives here. If you are good, I''ll reward you." The man''s gaze moves to the kid. "Anyone who steps out of line or tires to alter the course I have planned for this rock gets punished."

    The boy flails in the man''s grip, yelling obscenities as his rage is overflowing. The man looks back at me, grinning. "See, he isn''t worth saving. Now I can see a spot for you in my company. How about you work for me."

    I chuckle at his prospect. His face twitches as the grin shifts to anger. I step forward, retaking my dynamic stance.

    WORD OF CID

    Presenting yourself in a strong, defiant pose will help with changing people''s minds and hearts.

    "You may not know this, but I am of influence myself. My goal is to help people in any way I can. To be a force of good and comfort to the community. If you pray at the altar of CID, I shall hear you."

    "Pray?" The man says.

    "Yes, pray. For you see, I am a god." Once I say this the world I silent. The crowd around us gawk at me with confusion. The man and the boy stare blankly at me, waiting for a non-existent second part of my sentence. The silence is broken by an uncontrollable laughter. We all turn to see the man in the mask bent over, hands on his knees, laughing. He even coughs, gasping for air as he laughs.

    "You? A GOD?" The masked man lets out during his magic giggle attack. "That''s amazing, the best thing I heard. You, the budding cup without the cup, a god." He turns to the man as he speaks. "Crane, did you know the orange puddle is a god."

    "It''s slime, not pee," I say back.

    "Same thing to me."

    "Crane, was it?" I direct at the man. He turns his head, so I guess that is his name. "Can you please control you, men?

    "Kill the slime," Van says with a steady tone.

    I tried diplomacy. Now it''s time for the next best choice. Crane, now free from my grip, lunges the knife at the boy. I muster all the strength I can to expand my chest. I suck in all the air I can, and I flatter large enough that my shadow looms over the whole crowd. My clothes were sucked into my body as I didn''t want to break the outfit I just stole- acquired.

    I let the air out as I roared as loud as I could. The ground shook as windows shattered. The people around ran back out of fear. The officer finally steps forward, but his eyes are on me. Crane drops the knife to cover his ears as he can barely keep his head up. The boy does the same, but I need him to hole up a bit longer. The masked man doesn''t flinch. He stands tall and takes the roar entirely. He rushes toward me, but I stretch my body to the serpent sharp and slither below his stab. A heat radiates in my body as the sword scratches my body.

    I created something similar to a mouth in the middle of my face. I mean, it''s a hole in my face. I lung forward. Crane flinches in horror, but his hand pats the ground, searching for the knife. He stares up at my gaping mouth as I leap toward him. He shuts his eyes.

    By the time he finally opened his eyes, I was long gone, and so was the boy. I was springing toward hopping from rooftops. I don''t look like my usual self, as I have taken a new form.

    Fun Fact

    I call this form Taxi Crawler. I am about twice as long and three times as wide as I normally am. My body is snake-like, and I sprout three legs on each side. They are more like a hand-foot hybrid, as my five toes are long. I can run and grip with these bad boys, which is useful when you are jumping from rooftop to rooftop.

    A man popped his head out, lungs full of air, ready to shout at me, but when he saw my beautiful visage, he went pale and screamed as loud as he could. That...that hurt.

    Another useful feature is the fact I am large. Big enough to carry people inside myself. Almost like a baby bug ship. Something I feel the kid freaking out inside my stomach wasn''t thrilled with. Don''t worry. I''m not digesting him and make a pocket of air for him. You can tell by his constant screaming in my stomach.

    Some people aren''t grateful to be rescued. We were running for our lives because of him in the first place.

 Rats Like Eating Pants

    It took me a while to find an abandoned building. A large section of the city is destitute, with abandoned homes and shops crumbling under their own weight. The section of the city was made of the scrapes of crashed ships¡ªdirt and pieces not worthy of being called scraps.

    I find myself at the top of an old tower connected to a house. Someone was ambitious in constructing this, but like the town around us, either they or their goals crumbled. I squeezed my hand under a window and unlocked it from the inside. I made a new "mouth" and vomited the kid out my face hole and into the room.

    He screams on the floor, covered in bits of slime. I don''t know why he screamed as long as he did, as I saved his life, and he doesn''t need to worry about the ooze as any on him promptly slithered off and returned to my body. Plus, it took a long time to find a decent room that was both empty and in only lousy condition. This one has a bed that I wouldn''t touch, but it looks ok, at least.

    "It''s all good, we made it out saftely." I say, stepping into the room and returning to my regular form.

    "You ate me!" The kids shout.

    "No, I held you as we ran."

    "In your stomach... I think."

    "Technically, I am 90% stomach. I didn''t digest you either. That shows you can trust me."

    "Because you didn''t eat me?"

    "Good, I''m glad you get it," I say, sitting down on the floor so I can be at his eye level. The boy stares at me with his eyes wide and face pale. To ease his nerves, I reach out to shake his hand.

    "You can call me Cid."

    He is zeroed in on my hand. He is shaking but refuses to move. I shake my hand closer to his face to let him know it is safe. He is shaking more. I stay there for a minute until he raises his hand and grabs mine. With how much it is shaking, he could turn my hand into a milkshake, but the grip is firm.

    "My name is Emanuel," the boy says in a weak tone.

    "Is that short for anything?"

    "It''s just Emanuel," he responds with confusion.

    "Ahh, classic."

    There was a moment of silence. I assumed it was Emanuel gathering the courage to speak to me. Throughout my travels, I learned that how I look and function makes people uneasy. So, I took the time to gather my strength and look out the window at the city. One was to admire the history of the buildings, making out bits of ship names from the piece, guessing what part was what on the ship. The other was to make sure we weren''t followed.

    "Is yours short for something? Cid, I mean." Emanuel asks in a whisper.

    "Yup, it''s short for something," I respond.

    "Is it Cidius?" He asks with an eyebrow raised.

    "It''s short for Celestial Ieternal Deity."

    "Oh, so C-E-D. Shouldn''t it be pronounced K-ed"

    "Where did the E come from?"It''s C-I-D"

    "It''s for eternal. E-T-E-R-N-A-L"

    "No, it''s spelled I-E-N-T-E-R-N-A-L"

    "There is no I. It starts with E, like ''everyone.''"You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    This is the day I learned the proper spelling of the word. I can''t turn back, no. I have been going by that for too long, and the sunk cost fallacy is real.

    ."I am a god, so I choose how it''s spelled." The perfect rebuttal.

    "What an ego." He chuckled to himself before looking back into my eyes. As the seconds went by, I watched the corners of his mouth lower as it dawned on him how serious it was. "You think you''re a god."

    "I know I am."

    "If you''re a god, why didn''t you fight that masked guy instead of running?"

    "Oh, he would have killed me."

    "Then you are not a god. Gods can''t die."

    I stretch my head right close to his face. In a steady tone, I speak. "Gods can die."

    "How do you know?" He says, avoiding my gaze.

    "Because I can."

    "If gods can die, I will eat 100 toad eyes."

    "Deal." We chuckled, though I meant every word of that deal, and he thinks I''m kidding. "What don''t we stop beating around the bush, and you tell what''s your deal with that man."

    "I don''t have to tell you anything." He stares at the floor.

    "If it wasn''t for me, you wouldn''t be breathing and sitting in this must attic. Also, rats eating your pant leg."

    A rat was eating on the side of Emanuel''s pants as if it was a five-star meal. He kicked the rat away while screaming. The then turned to me and noticed a rat swimming in my ooze. "You have a rat in you!"

    "And that was his mistake. Now tell me what''s going on."

    The kid was silent for a few seconds before breaking and telling me everything. Emanuel sat down in the chair by the window, the sun setting across the horizon. He took a breath and told me his story.

    I learned the rock we are on is called Bronxven. No one knows where the name came from, but it populated people''s heads, like a fleeting whisper, and people ran with it. It''s the size of an average moon and is a rare case, as anything round is rare in the cosmic seas. Broxven isn''t fully round but split.

    Emanuel''s family owned a butchery and bug hunting business called Flores Carnes. Apparently, on this rock, there are massive bugs ranging in size from the size of a ball to the size of cattle. Their meat tastes like either bovine or plumb fish. His family hunted these creatures down and sold their meat at a local shop.

    It started as a small business, but after generations of building its name, the Flores became prominent. They had goals of expanding their business. Emanuel was the oldest kid and made it his mission to take over the hunting business. The mountain of texts and the before-sunrise hunting trips were what pumped his blood. His knife work was the best among his cousins, as he could break down a bug barrel (apparently a 3-foot round shelled beetle) in less than a minute. He figured out a way to crystalize the silver water found in rivers around the rock, for which these bugs go crazy.

    To expand here to other floating colonies is difficult. The Cosmic Sea is a series of countries and kingdoms with their own terrain and ecosystems. The only way to traverse to these planets is on the Star Sails. They are floating ships that harness the cosmic rays in the sails to power the thrusters. The vehicles come in many sizes, from personal, affordable vehicles for travel to enormous ships for cargo delivery. Though his family had a small fleet for travel, Bronxven was not nearly enough to continue traveling to other colonies on other rocks.

    Their goal was to expand so that their family never had to worry about money and to focus on their second business, the Resur restoration project. Their goal was to build more sustainable and affordable housing, fund restorations of existing buildings and apartments so no one is living in horrible conditions, and create reliable public transit so no one needs a car to easily traverse the city. This is with the intent that most of the bill be on the foundation, not the people. Smart, as there is no point in helping people if it costs them their blood and cash. These were good people.

    They contacted Ghem Industry to set up a distribution chain. They were the second largest freighter on Bronxven. The Flores family signed a tentative deal with them, requiring them to take an enormous loan out where their business was collateral. That''s what Ghem wanted. Crane owned Ghem, and the owners of Resur Main Bank were the same banks Ghem suggested they took the loan out of. This is how Crane controls the town. He controls all the distribution in the town and the banks. The town''s economy is in his hands. If your business grows and falls, it is all up to them.

    They increased the interest rates, making it impossible for them to keep up with paying back the loan, balancing their business, and expanding. Then, over only a few short months, they lost everything. Their business belonged to Ghem, both the meat shops and the trade. All were renamed, erasing their names from the public.

    That wasn''t enough. Fearing retribution, Crane took out a hit on the Floreses. In the middle of the night, hiding under his parent''s bed, Emanuel saw his family murdered in front of his eyes. They caught him, but before they could finish the dead, Emanuel escaped. Battered, alone, but alive. After days on the street, with the same knife he carved bugs into, he charged at Van with every intention of either ending Van''s life or escaping the suffering he has been stuck with.

    The story weighs heavy on my soul. As my eyes trembled, I could only stare, but nothing came out. My soul wept for this child. After careful thought and letting him take his time, I spoke.

    I drop the chipper tone when I speak. "Forget revenge."

 Let Him Cry

    He stared at me with bewilderment. I don¡¯t have omniscience, but what I do have is a keen skill of insight and good eyes. I can read people like a book. Emanuel is either hyper-focused on his next meal as his stomach grunts throughout his story. At first, I thought it was the rat''s stomach floating in me. The rumbling is still there after I spit him out and hurried away, probably to tell his rodent friends how he survived a god. I¡¯m fine, on the other hand, still full from earlier. There''s no need to eat the rat inside of me this time.

    A second option could be reliving the events he told could have put him in a dark space. It makes sense; I understand the pain of losing people close to you. Commands, friends, shipmates, I''ve lost it all. Family, on the other hand, I don¡¯t think I can understand how he feels. The pain laced in his words, the way his words trembled when he spoke, and the few breaks were stopped because he was crying. The pain fester in his heart.

    The pain is part of the reason the mood shifted. His thoughts are as clear as the rat that was in me. My response to his story was what did it.

    ¡°I told you everything, and you want me to¡­ to forgive Crane?¡± he shouts as he stomps the floor, his eyes watering with sorrow and rage.

    ¡°I never said forgive. I said not to seek revenge.¡± My words are stready. I need to keep them steady. This is not the time for me to be lost in emotion.

    ¡°Then what do I do then? Do I just wither away?¡± He grips his chest as if his face goes red. The rats look out from their hole to see whose stomps shake their home. I don¡¯t stop him. This makes sense; he must let it out like I did when I floated alone on the rocks. He needs to be released. ¡°Want me to cry until I feel even more empty and just hope one day, maybe one day, I won''t feel so bad?¡±

    ¡°You run, for now.¡±

    He stared at me, caught off guard. ¡°That¡¯s for cowards.¡±

    ¡°Cowards live. They get a tomorrow. A tomorrow to see the sunrise, to breathe,¡± My eyes stare deep into his. ¡°To plot.¡±

    His eyes jumped back at me when he heard the last sentence. I continue to speak now, gaining his attention.

    ¡°You¡¯re a kid. Seeking revenge for what happened to you is understandable. Do it now. Well, you saw what happened on the street. Wait until you are older and stronger. Then go on your blood-soaked quest, but do so knowing this detail. Revenge reaps revenge. Blood trapped in snow only sports when it melts.

    He doesn¡¯t respond. I stand up and walk to the window. My eyes search once more for anyone trying to find us. I continue to speak, knowing he is staring at me.

    ¡°You finish him off, and you take his place. Whether you feel satisfied or not, you won¡¯t know until the deed is done¡ªnot even right away. That spot you left, though, won¡¯t stay empty for long. Someone just like you will stand there, looking at you.¡±

    Emanuel is quiet. He looked down at his hands. I won¡¯t pretend to know what he is thinking. He is a kid with the weight of his family¡¯s bodies on his back. Their blood drips down your face and paints your vision. Survivor guilt can lead you adrift into the dark.

    When I was lost, I wished for a hand to reach out and pierce the dark, to guide me down the right path and save me from the embrace of solitude. It was then that I realized one duty of a god. If I wasn¡¯t given a guide through life, then that means I am a guide to others the best I can. Especially a lost kid like him.

    I look up and see a dark blue sky with a light dusting of stars. The city light obscures the colors of the Conscious Sea, but I remember them. One of the only good things about being adrift in space is that the sights and colors you see with say with you.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°If I could get you out of this city, would you take my offer?¡± I say, turning back to him.

    ¡°I would need to get off the rock. Crane¡¯s reach extends all around Bronxen. Even if I were to hide in one of the very few towns left, he¡¯d find me,¡± he says, looking under the bed, deep into the shadows.

    I look back up to the stars as the idea hits me. I was already planning this for myself. What''s one more person? ¡°Then we will get you off this rock. Let¡¯s get on a ship.¡±

    Emanuel turns out to be e surprised. His gaze then shifts up. The sparkle of the stars reflects in his eyes. The idea of sailing the cosmos must never crossed his mind. It makes sense, as his whole life and future were on Bronxvan. Although they specialized in interstellar trade routes, his future was planted in the dirt.

    ¡°He won¡¯t let any ship take us,¡± Emanuel says. ¡°He controls the loans to all of the ships and docks. They won¡¯t cross him.¡±

    ¡°We can stow away.¡±

    ¡°A god stowing away?¡±

    ¡°We can steal a ship.¡± I turned to see his mouth gaping and his eyes widening. It¡¯s clear he didn¡¯t see my suggestion coming.

    ¡°I thought you said you were a god?¡±

    ¡°I am!¡± My calm demeanor wanes.

    ¡°What kind of god steals? Can¡¯t you miracle us out? Don¡¯t you know a spell or anything?¡±

    I¡­ don¡¯t know how to use magic.¡±  I did my best to avoid this subject as it is the most embarresing.

    ¡°Wizards can bend the fabric of reality, but they¡¯re not a god.¡± Emanuel¡¯s tone starts to rise. ¡°Druids commune with nature, but they¡¯re not gods. I¡¯ve heard stories of people moving mountains with their bare hands and creating planes, but they¡¯re not gods. But because you are slime and stretch, you are a god?¡± He shouts out.

    ¡°I can also change my shape a bit!¡± I yell back.

    ¡°Thats DUMB!¡±

    ¡°No, it''s useful! I am one of a kind, never-before-seen person. If I am not a god, what am I?¡± The boy is silent. I stretch my head to be next to his. ¡°Oh, is the little baby at a loss for words?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll kill you!¡± He shouts back.

    ¡°Ha! I can¡¯t die.¡±

    ¡°You just said you could earlier!¡± Crap. the kid¡¯s right. I did say that.

    ¡±Well, it takes a lot.¡± We went back and forth, bickering, which eventually devolved into him taking a well-deserved 10 hours of sleep. The boy needed it. Once he woke up, we devised a plan. In this city, there are a few ways we can get a Solar Sail, the only class of ship that can take us to the stars.

    They resemble sea vessels but are equipped with the newest advances in magic and science. The ships have a series of spells that magically create barriers around the vessels that act as a miniature atmosphere so people can breathe and not get sucked into space. Can¡¯t forget the sails adorned with a series of spells woven into every thread to catch solar radiation and the magical energy that composes the universe, the Source, to push the vessel forward, and the thrusters on the back to get it a bit of extra power.

    If we want to get a small ship meant for family trips, you get them at dealerships like ¡°Smiths Super Solar Ships¡± or secondhand. This would work best as we wouldn¡¯t have to check in with any ports to leave and could leave at any time with low deductions. The issue is we don¡¯t have money.

    Next are the larger commercial ships. The issue there is Crane. With his iron grip on those ships, we would need to find a way to slip past him, grab one, and dip. The ports are at the edge of the town at the end of the floating rock. If you take one wrong step, you can end up floating into space and driving to the Conscious Sea. IU didn¡¯t breed Emanuel as he needed his rest. Plus, if I leave my clothes in the room, I can sneak around and slither and sneak around with no problem.

    The port is large with mutiple hanger holding the Solar Sails. Most hangars have the corporation¡¯s name on them. I catch Emanuel¡¯s family hangar. The doors locked and the area unetternd. It doesn¡¯t matter who name is on the hangar, they all belong to Crane.

    I stay to see a Solar Sail take off, and it always sparks beauty. A ship is pulled out off an iron cart with wheels from the hanger. It''s large, one used to transport goods, with cargo and crew on board. The sails unravel and glow with a violet-pink light. The ship rises from the certifying into the air. It moves forward as waves of multicolored light part under the keel. The green light hits, and the thrusters boom. The ship flies forward and off the edge. The Light waves grow as the Solar Sail takes off into the cosmos and the stars, riding a current of ethereal light.

    Security there is the tightest I have seen. You can¡¯t even walk in the parking lot without a pass. I can sneak in no problem, but Emanuel¡­ I mean, who sneaks up to stab a guy by running at them and yelling their name?

    But we have a backup plan.

 My Familys Phrase

    Traveling through the city was fine. I was able to procure a tarp I used as a cloak, which means I grabbed it from the trash. I needed something, as my flickering orange visage is pretty distinct.

    Emanuel mentioned an old vacation home near his family''s home in town. Only certain staff members know of the second home, which houses a small Solar Sail ready for takeoff. It can fit three to four people with four bunk beds. It''s the best shot as the keys are there, there is no trail to follow, and best of all, WE DON''T RISK OUR LIVES.

    FUN FACT

    Gods can die. My research supports this, as I think I can die, although I can survive nearly anything. My research also supports the fact that I''m still alive despite everything.

    Most importantly, Emanuel shouldn''t be put in a situation where his life is at risk. What he needed was to be removed from Crane and any situation involving him.

    The con is that we don''t have a ride there, so it''s almost a three-day walk from where we start.

    This walk gives us a lot to talk about. For the first three hours, Emanuel has been quiet. However, the silence wasn''t unfamiliar to me. I prefer the quiet of a person over the quiet of nature. I learned the dark truth when I was drifting in space for a few years or decades.

    Space is silent.

    There isn''t much you can do about the vast void of quiet. You can go years without seeing a living thing; no matter how loud you scream, a reply is never guaranteed. The silence of a person is simple. I have a foolproof plan to get anyone in the cosmos to respond. My plan, keep talking until they cave.

    I talked for four hours straight. It was tough at one point. I think i was talking about how cereal is soup. A hotdog is a sandwich that, when you say you are going up to a place, means you are going, and going down means someone is coming to the location and so much more. All until he finally caved. For a kid so open to telling me his life story earlier, it took me quite a bit to get him to talk about anything.

    We had idle chats about what he was into, and it was no surprise that it was math. The kid loved doing math for his dad''s business, and apparently, he is amazing at it. According to him, something about it being defined and clear while saying a puzzle.

    We chatted until we came across a cliffside overlooking the ocean. It''s beautiful. The waves are lavender, and the grass is the color of hay. The sunset orange hue projected on the clouds brought peace to my mind. There, I promised myself that when I find pure happiness, I will set up my home on a cliff overlooking the ocean. When I can afford a king''s ransom.

    Then, Emanuel pointed at a three-story home at the end of a cobblestone driveway. "This is it, my family''s vacation home."

    "This was your family''s home?" I shouted as I calculated the cost. This wasn''t like the other houses. It wasn''t made of ship scrape but high-quality material. The total is more than I can ever afford.

    "Vacation home," Emanuel responds as if everyone has one.

    "There''s a difference?"

    "Yeah, this one was smaller. " It was when Emanuel says this that I realized I was babysitting a rich kid for free. Sometimes, I question my motives.

    We went toward the front door. After that soul-crushing walk, the gentle breeze and setting sun provids a calming aura.

    Stale cereal isn''t as bad as people make it out to be. Does it taste good? No. Is the texture the same? NO! But it''s still cereal. What you need to look out for is expired milk. Emanuel gave us both a bowl, and we passed on the milk. He then began his tour of the mansion.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    The three stories were divided into the basement, where the food and alcohol were stored. Most of the food had already gone bad. The alcohol bottles were closed, but I could see someone snuck a few bottles, as a set of them was partially empty in the empty rack by the door. The basement also had a patted room used as a home gym. The place was covered in dust except for the chair on the bench press.

    The first floor was the living room, kitchen, and the usuals. We entered the garage, and there was the family Solar Sail. It''s a bit of a camper with some the mileage on this model was fantastic. Next, we examine the valuables of the house. We are desperate for cash as the only funds we will have is any money in the house and whatever I think I can sell. I still wonder if an item I blessed should have a 10 % markup. I think so, but maybe if I ever get more known.

    The second floor is dedicated to the kids. Emanuel spent little time in his bedroom. It was a room full of books, a desk with paper scattered about, and no toys or TV to be found. Reminded me of an office more than a room. Emanuel focused more on another room. I let him be as I noticed the crib inside, a few toys scattered about, and an unopened pack of diapers on a changing table. He needed some space, as nothing I could say would remedy the aches in his chest.

    The third floor is his parents'' master bedroom and office. He spent most of his time there. His posture changed since walking up the stairs. On the walk here, he was digitizing, hyper-fixating on his surroundings. Once he stepped onto the hill, he perked up, and his eyes gleamed. Once inside, he puffed his chest, and his voice carried a bravo you wouldn''t expect a boy eating stale cereal to have.

    His shoulders slumped once he walked on the first step of the staircase. He moved slower, and that sparkle of life in his eye was smothered. He accented the dark halls as the fading sunlight was the only light in there. It makes sense when no one is here to pay the bills. He once had a life filled with people and love, a warmth you would let burn your skin. Now he drifts alone in the cold void.

    The setting sun beams from the window. He doesn''t care, as his eyes are fixated on his parents'' room. I stood at the window, lifted my shirt, and let the light pass through my body. A circle of light passing through my stomach eliminated the shadows of the room.

    I maneuvered my goo around my stomach. The circle of light transformed into a sentence projected on the wall. It said, "Want to talk about it?" I saw his eyes shimmer as he read the words on the wall. I felt then that I had reached him¡ªa message of light in his darkest hour. Emanuel turned to me.

    "Thats disgusting." He said, sticking his tongue out.

    "No, it''s miraculous." Insulted he would say that to me.

    "You don''t even have the guts to move around. How are you doing that?"

    "I''m amazing, thats how."

    "Nah, you''re more disgusting. "

    "Wow, coming from the rich kid living in a mansion."

    "This isn''t a mansion. A mansion has vineyards, quarters for help, and large towers."

    "Those are castles. This is a mansion."

    "Well, I bet your churches are way bigger."

    I stay silent, but it''s too late. He figured it out. Emanuel''s eyes widen, and then a devil''s grin spreads. "How are you a ''god'' with no church.?"

    "I don''t need one," I respond, taking another blow to my ego.

    "Sure you don''t. You have a local shrine?"

    "No"

    "Followers"

    "You followed me here. Actually, I followed you."

    "A book of scriptures."

    "I talk a lot."

    Emanuel busts out laughing. Longer than I want. I don''t appreciate the air quotes around God, but he is laughing. He gestures for me to follow him. We walked outside through the back to a bench near the lavender cliffside overlooking the ocean.

    He tells me this was his favorite spot. When his father needed time to work or if things got "heated" with them all, he would sit here with his mother. The best moments were when they were able to catch either the sun setting or rising.

    "My mom had a saying. " Emanuel says. "Seeing the sunrise means you survived another night, so bask in the sun. Seeing a sunset meant you conquered another day, so greet the moon."

    "I like that."

    "She told me that I would cry a lot." He says, chuckling. "Every mistake I would make. It''s a lot. I mean, I didn''t want them to worry about everything. I guess that isn''t a worry anymore. Then, why do I still cry?"

    "I''m jealous of that, " I say softly. A kid scarred by life and whose world shattered looks up at me, confused, wondering what I have to be jealous of.

    "It''s good that you don''t bottle that stuff and are able to release it to the world. I feel that if you bottle up your issues, you want to be able to bask in the sun or greet the moon. It''s not easy, letting it out."

    His eyes shimmered as he stared at the sun resting below the horizon, ready to greet the moon. I knew I would greet the sunrise with a smile, knowing then that I had made a new friend.

 The Burning Blade

    The world around me is dark. It''s not like floating in the Conscious Sea. When space gets dark, the star''s light, as is the warmth, is far from reach. The cold is like no other, as is the dark. Your eye can feel the lack of light and desperately try to scramble for a spec of illumination as the cold sucks the heat from your body, leaving you a shivering husk. I''ve been in this and have seen too many of it happen.

    This isn''t that darkness. Instead, it feels like light does not exist, that the conception of ideas and reality has not happened yet. There is no temperature¡ªno hot, no cold, no comfortable, no sweating blob of sweat. It is the space between nonexistence and birth, the passageway of life.

    Breaking all of this is a familiar voice. One that is soft and gentle. The hazy words aretrying to reach me. The mumbles fall before they can hit. My eyes begin to form as I see a light for the first time. It''s blinding as I can''t make anything out, it''s too strong for me.

    A heat forms in my stomach and grows as a pain engulfs me. Then, these words become clear as they can reach and touch my mind.

    "You are a god."

    My body jolts up and breaks me from my dream. A single fire to every nerve. Imagine your calf cramping, waking you up from a deep sleep. Instead of your calf, it''s your entire body, and the pain refuses to let you move.

    My eyes formed as I saw the mansion guest room, and I made my bed for the night. I sleep in a ball, but as I awake, I stretch out to form my upper torso. A man obscured in shadow stands above me. On his face is a familiar black mask. In my stomach is a dagger with a burning red blade adorned with orange and black signals of spells. My stomach goo sizzles as he twists the blade.

    What he didn''t excpect is me ignoring the burning pain and sending a fist flying toward him at high speeds. He doesn''t move out of the way. He expects a soft goo hand to hit him. Yes, that would hurt, but I can tell he''s smart. he knows whatever hit a soft goo ball would be nothing compared to the extra second or two of twisting the burning knife in me. That is when my fist makes contact with his face and sends his body flying, shattering the closed door as he hits the wall in the hall.

    I may not know spells, but I know my body. Focusing the magical energy known as the Source through my ooze, I can harden it stronger than most metals. My first crystalizes to jagged edges, emphasizing my knuckles and the tip of my fingers. That way, my punches can leave a few cuts on any unwanted people, like people who STAB PEOPLE IN THE STOMACH WHILE THEY SLEEP!

    "Cid, are you alive ?" I hear Emanuel shout from the hall.

    "Stay away from here. Lock your door!" I shout back.

    I hopped on my feet from the bed, but my shape was unstable. My legs wobbled as I fought to keep their shape. Most importantly, Emanuel''s voice didn''t come from the other side of the wall where he should be sleeping. It came from the hall. The man turns to someone I can''t see. He was still holding his knife. He wasn''t an amateur.

    At the man''s feet, I see it. A broken black mask with drops of blood. The moon shines through the window, shining a light on my assailant. He was in all-black tactical gear with a cloak draped over him. My eyes then jumped to his face, but there was a problem. I couldn''t make out his face, and every time I tried to, my eyes would look away, and I would only remember a blur. It wasn''t a conscious choice, they are being forced to look away, but I don''t know how.

    The attacker gets on his feet as he steps forward to lunge out of frame toward Emanuel''s. I can''t waste time. My other hand crystalizes as I rush after him. The good that was stabbed has hardened, but not like my crystallization; it is burnt and shriveled, like a lump of coal. The nerves in there are dead, and I can no longer control them. My stomach spits out the chunk of burnt ooze as my height shortens by a centimeter as I send goo to the wound in my stomach.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    My fist extends and fires out like a bullet to the man. He expected that and ducked below it, but I''m not dumb and predicted his prediction! I made my arm thicker so that out of my forearm, another crystallized first extended out and punched him in his blurry face.

    Blood hit the floor as I cut his face with my knuckle, but it got me a chunk of goo as he sliced the hand off my arm. My suspicions are right. Watching this, all in the hall is Emanuel in long pajama pants and a t-shirt. Then I realized I am not wearing any pants or shirt and have all my slime exposed.

    No time to think as I sprint by the assailant. He gets a cut on my shoulder. Fortunately for me, I pick up my severed hand and open a whole large hole in my head. Emanuel stares in horror as if he knows what''s coming next. I bend down and swallow him up in my body.

    I turn to my Taxi Crawler form and rush to the stairs. My first foot hits the steps, and he slices off one of my six legs. A hand stretches my back and grabs it before it hits the ground. I leap onto the wall and liquefy a layer of my feet to stick and rush down the wall. Emanuel screams as my severed hand and leg float inside me, something that shouldn''t happen.

    If I can recover any lost part of me, the goo should be absorbed into my body automatically. I separate the burn areas and spit them out, yet they keep their shape. I didn''t get much time to think about that as his boot hit the back of my head. Yup, he is a professional. People''s hands and feet get stuck in my body when hit, but coat your hand and feet with a constant flow of the Source, and you have a magical energy glove that can hit me. My goo body absorbs the hit better than a regular person, but it''s still solid enough to do three-fourths of the regular damage.

    I tumbled down the stairs, and Emanuel fell out of me. My limbs are still inside of me but not absorbed. I looked up at the man, but my eyes kept averting his face.

    "Me or the boy?" I ask him.

    The man''s voice was calm, downright prideful. He didn''t speak like a man i just hit twice, but instead, the calmness in his tone portrayed a man in complete control.

    "The boy. Give him up before I slice up more of you." The assistant says.

    "Why are you here? If you want money, take whatever you want from the house. " Emanuel shouts at him.

    "Nothing here is worth more than what I am already being paid. Either way, it would work better for me if I did this job. "

    "Crane''s paying you," I say. His smile was all the confirmation I needed. I''m pretty sure there''s something in this mansion worth more than his offer. Take the kid''s deal. "

    "The money is a bonus." He says with glee. "The power I gain from doing this, on the other hand, is worth more. Do you know how much a favor from Crane is worth? What about you? Why not ditch the kid and run?"

    "Because that would go against my duties."

    "What are you, his bodyguard?"

    "No, I am a god."

    The man erupts into laughter. His cackle is erratic as he sways his whole body. Even so, I still couldn''t find an opening to strike.

    "That''s hilarious. Maybe I''m stronger than I thought because I just slashed a god." He lets out an in-between laugh.

    "Those were lucky. "I say, clenching my fist.

    "Or maybe you''re full of crap. I never heard of a slime god. "

    "Gods come in many forms. Mine''s just the most versatile."

    "You shouldn''t claim to be a god. It is a title you are either born with or earned. Looking at you, it''s neither of those two."

    "Coming from some random dude."

    "You can call me Crimson. It will do you well to memorize that name as I will become the next King of this world."

    I glance at Emanuel, whose eyes widen and goes pale after hearing his name.

    It''s clear I won''t change his mind with words, but the short conversation did buy me enough time to form a plan. I expanded one crystal hand to punch the window next to us and my other hand to push Emanuel out. I leaped after him, but not at a cost, as the man jumps down the stairs and cut my foot off.

    I wrapped around the screaming Emanuel and morphed my free foot into a crystal fist. I fire the foot, and it stretches toward the window. The timing was perfect, and I punched Crimson right in the face, but he predicted my prediction. Even though he is in a daze after the hit, as my foot stretches back to me, he stabs the side of my leg and slashes up. Leaving a long burnt streak down my leg.

    My body hits the grass as i act as an airbag for Emanuel. With no time to lose, I shifted to Taxi Crawler mode, but I lost so much mass that Emanuel''s head sticks out of my back.

    "I thought I was going to die," Emanuel shouts.

    "Still a possibility," I say, running toward the backyard, hoping to find a hiding spot.

    "No use hiding," Crimson shouts from the window. "I''ll find you, fake god!"

    My stomach aches with pain as I still feel the burning blade twisting in my stomach.

 Whats A Dog House?

    His backyard was massive for a cliff-side mansion. A fence blocks off the edges, and a back fence leads down the cliff to the beach. Of course, there is an elevator two, but Emanuel reassures me that doesn''t make this a mansion. My feet crush the dead plants as the long grass takes over the backyard, which is the size of a moderate house. Not a house''s yard, the backyard alone is the size of a full-size property.

    My eyes bounce around my head, trying to find a quick hiding place. First was a large shed across the yard, but thats to obvious. Next is the pool house by the pool, which I first mistook as a small pond. Then I saw a second smaller guest house. The overgrown bushes and grass obscure it more than the others, so it is the best bet.

    I grow another hand out of my head and point to the smaller guest house. "Let''s hide in there," I shout out.

    "The dog house is hidden. I know how to get in and lock it," he says with his head poking out my back.

    My eyes wipe back to Emanuel as I run toward the house. "Dog house? Thats is a dog house? Is your dog actually a family of five? How is that a dog house?"

    Emanuel glares at me as he speaks. "This is a regular dog house."

    "Yeah, for a super mansion."

    "This isn''t a mansion," He whispers yells at me,

    I slip my hand under a wodden flap fleshes on the wall. I felt for a metal hatch and unlcoked the door. First Emanuel crawled in and then I squished throught he door. I gently closed the door, and locked it with a metal hatch. I thin moved tyhe CABINET? Come on, what dioes a dog need with this? Either way I moved the cabinet infront of the hatch. I also pull the curtains and lock the door Emanuel''s family would use to enter the dog house.

    We squat on the floor in the dog''s bedroom in the dark. The mattress is soft, and the sheet has a threaded count I didn''t know was possible.

    "How is a DOG HOUSE a mansion?" Emanuel whispers.

    "We both can fit in it, and I am not in my ball form. Look, I can stretch my legs; look, I can even stretch them farther." I stretch my legs a full foot longer to prove my point.

    "I''m a kid, and you shrunk. "

    "It''s two stories tall."

    "It''s not two stories. It has two levels."

    "The floors are heated."

    "It gets cod because we are close to the ocean." Emanuel pushes his face against mine as he whispers. Yelling grows intense. "What? Do you hate dogs? You want him to freeze to death. Look at CID, god of dead dogs."

    "It''s a mansion. "

    The tension eases for a moment. We forget a powerful adversary is hunting us. I lost a foot''s worth of slime after all that damage, even though i required my slime. Emanuel points at the limbs floating in my body. It''s not just that I am missing a foot; my stomach still hurts, and the pain isn''t fading.

    I pull out the limbs from inside of me. I look down and see that I was unable to remove all of the burnt slime. The area is dark, with cracks spread on the section, like magma that has solidified to stone. In the worst-case scenario, if I get burnt too much, I can turn into stone for the planet, a little island for small animals.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    I hold my disembodied hand. I clear my mind as a strand of goo reaches into the severed hand, integrates with the slime, and connects to the inside walls of the limb. The slime starts to break down and reform inside my body, except the closer we get to where the wind was formed, the more the slime solidifies, and I am unable to connect to it.

    Normally, I would be able to control my slime without a physical connection, but if it is burnt, it takes a more direct connection. The only part that remained was the burst-hardened section. I did this to my severed foot, and it worked the same.

    I crystallized my hand and stretched it into a thin wire. I wrapped it around the section where my hand was missing, and the burnt section fell off in one quick motion. Emanuel is my silent observer. His wide eyes and gaped mouth accompanied the silent whale he let out is perfect, as it matched my silent scream of intense pain.

    Fun Fact:

    Fire can burn my goo and harden it. This isn''t like my crystallization technique, which involves me manually channeling the energy found in everything in the universe, called the Source. That is a voluntary, painless move; I can reshape and undo it.

    The fire one is hard, and I lose control of the section. That means I can''t simply produce more slime to replace what I lost. That involves food and rest. It has gotten faster over the years but not instantaneous, though I am working toward that... hopefully. This also leads to a loss of my overall side. Add that it feels like that section is always on fire.

    BONUS FACT: REMOVING THE BURN SECTION HURTS LIKE THE WORST RING OF DAMNATION. I know I was just popping them out of my body, but it''s the equivalent of ripping burnt flesh off your body and throwing it aside; I may be able to remove them easily, but the pain is all too real.

    With the goo, I was able to save, and I gained back two inches of lost height. The heat from his knife works.

    "You think he''s out in the yard hunting us?" Emanuel asks, staring with shaking eyes at the door.

    "No, he''s smart," I respond. "If he knew we would be in your getaway mansion instead of your family''s home or by the shipyards, it''s safe to assume he knows we are after the Solar Sail in the garage.

    "I''ll run out there as bait, and you can make a break for it." Emanuel stands up, ready to move. I stay seated and grab his shoulder. I then push him down until his butt is back on the floor.

    "I''m not leaving you."

    "He''s after me, not you. You make it down the hill. I bet we will find a car or a bike. He had to get here somehow. "

    "You can''t fight him. "

    "Not the plan. If I do, I''ll die. I''m going to run away, but let him see me do it. And then, keep running." He smirked at me as he continued. "It''s not like you can take him."

    "You''re talking like you can take me," I say as I enlarge my black dot eyes and stretch my head over his. He simply chuckles. I''m glad he is trying to find a way to smile.

    This didn''t solve the problem with the blade, man. The only plane we had at that moment was Emanuel''s sacrifice play, which I refused to go with. My brain is rattling plan after plan, each to varying degrees. What if we just walked away? Then he would catch up to us using his vehicle. Burn the house down and pray the Solar Sail is fireproof? One, who do I pray to? Two, as we learned, I am not fireproof.

    My favorite was when we would ferment for a few years in a cocoon state. By then, the man should have given up and left. Emanuel said he would need food and water. He also stressed that he didn''t want to spend a large chunk of his life "waiting for me."

    It wouldn''t be a big chunk.

    That left us with the only option I could think of: breaking into the house again, making it to the garage, and getting out.

    "I don''t want you hurt." He says, standing up.

    "That''s my choice. " I respond.

    "You''ve done enough. I can sneak in."

    "Do you know how to drive a Solar Sail?"

    "My dad taught me to prepare for the family business."

    "What kind of deity would I be if I left the job finished?"

    Emanuel sat down, silent. Although he is a boy, he acts like an adult. The image of Emanuel when he heard Crimson''s name popped into my head.

    "You know who he is. Crimson. Who is he?"

    Emanuel looks down and avoids eye contact as his terror grips his mind. The name Crimson must carry a strong reputation on this planet. I stand up in the dog house and hold my fist out.

    "Come on, pound it," I say waving my fist in his face. "This is my promise to you, Emanuel. I will get you off this rock and find you a new home. One where you can live a happy life and do whatever you want."

    "I like to bake." He spoke, hiding his red cheeks fielded by his embarrassment.

    "Fine I will make sure you get a new home, one where you can make me a cake every seven days."

    Emanuel grinned with a nod. It was then we devised a plan to get us back into the house. Emanuel explained the layout of the house once more and I was acting as front man, making room for him to escape if needed.

    It was risky, but our only option out of here.

 Totally Predictable

    We made it to the back door of the Mansion. It was locked, but that meant nothing to me. I squeezed below the door gap and unlocked it from the other side. This skill has come in handy more times than others. It''s a great way for people to make unknowing donations to a small god.

    One time, some people didn''t take kindly to my claims and threw me into the back of a van to sell me to some pasta warehouse that uses "free labor." Well, they made a pit stop to grab a bite to eat, and I squeezed through the gaps of the door. They were left with chains that could never hold me and an empty back seat. They also lost a food bag of loose pasta. I don''t need to cook it to eat it, as it can be shoved in my slime. It tastes bland, but it''s free.

    I was less nervous then than here.

    As we walk through the house, we take care with every step. We cling to the shadows and avoid turning on any lights. Emanuel has the house''s layout memorized, so it''s better not to give Crimson any advantages. However, all this is hard to do when you are bright orange. We make it to the garage door without any trouble.

    Emanuel pulled me back before I could reach the door and pointed at the floor. Invisible to the unobservant eye was a thin wire. I followed Emanuel''s finger to the light above us. I extended up to a small chandelier. I stretched up there, not moving my lower body, and found that the light bulb had been replaced with a green crystal.

    I could feel a massive amount of the Source inside. If we had tripped the wire, this crystal would blow up. It looks like this blast would be concussive with a hint of fire magic, meaning the ceiling would fall on us and burn me in the process. It wasn''t strong enough to bring the building down, but it was strong enough to either kill us or hurt us enough for the man to get the drop on us.

    "We need to disarm this or at least step over." I stop talking, and as my head stretches back down, I see Emanuel tinkering with the wire.

    "Already on it." Emanuel continues to tinker with the wiring in a hidden panel. "My dad taught me this when I was supposed to take over the company. Why don''t you keep looking out as I disarm the trap?"

    I stared, baffled at the fact of a boy his age. Still, it is a useful talent. I kept my eye out for our mysterious foe. I examine every inch in front of me. From the side table, the end of the hall is one of the many living rooms, where the pantry and kitchen are to our left and the family photos adorn the wall. A long triangular shield on the wall. There are a few scuff marks and battle scars. It must be a family heirloom, but not important enough to mount in one of the living rooms. It was then the thought hit me.

    "Do you want anything?" I ask.

    "We should focus on getting out, not eating, " he says, holding a piece of wire in his mouth.

    "No, I mean from your house. Ancient heirloom passed down for generations, as a special item that your parents gave you that has a ton of sentimental idols, a picture?

    Emanuel is quiet. I didn''t turn to face him as a gesture so that he could think on his own. I hear the soft sound of wire moving as he stands up. He hops on a side table and unscrews the crystal.

    "No, I''m good." He says, pocketing the crystal.

    "We can get it before he finds us."If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    "No, my family''s home was burned to the ground by Crane and Crimson while my family and those who worked in the home made sure I escaped. All that was important to me was in there. This is a vacation home. The only thing worth taking is all that I remember in this home."

    Hearing those words from a kid wounded my soul. I walked up to a small picture frame hanging on the wall, popped the picture out of the frame, and handed it to him.

    "Memories aren''t as eternal as one believes. Sometimes, they got locked behind a door or misplaced in one''s mind. That''s why we collect things, to help us keep those memories alive. No matter how much time passes. "

    Emanuel took the photo and stared, his eyes filling with tears no matter how much he tried to hold them back.

    "Thank you." He took the photo and folded and placed it in his pocket.

    "Let''s get to Solar Sail and get out of here," he says, wiping his face.

    Emanuel walks up to the door and turns the handle, but it doesn''t open. The door is made of metal, with thin gaps between the frame and floor. I''ve seen doors like this before. They are meant to match the esthetic of whatever room they are in, but their main purpose is high security. It has multiple reinforced deadlocks with a spell to reduce damage to the door.

    I see the keyhole is a circle indent near the handle. It doesn''t use a normal key but one embedded with the Source and crafted by a spell. All the doors leading to the outside must be like this one. Yet the back door wasn''t fully locked. I had to squeeze in, but after that, all I did was turn the handle. There was no security spell or anything preventing me from slipping under. There were no traps here either; the only one was in front of this door.

    That meant he knew what our goal was, but more so, he wanted us here. Right then, the hall echoed with the BANGS from the muzzle. I feel two bullets hit my back and swim inside me. I stumble forward, looking up at Emanuel''s horrified eyes. He ran to me but stopped right before touching me. His hands hovered over where the bullets were in me. I shook off the hit and kept standing.

    "Thank you for being as predictable as I wanted you two to be. " We here from the end of the hall.

    I turned to see Crimson walking down the hall past the kitchen entrance. The spell was still preventing me from looking at his face. He held a pistol in one hand, and in the other, he held up the key. It had a round flat impression, like a stamp, and a symbol engraved. The same as the on the door.

    "I appreciate the little game we had, false god, but this is where it ends." Crimson taunts.

    My legs visibly wobbled, and I started to lose my shape.

    "Leave us alone! We just want to leave." Emanuel shouts.

    "No can do. " Crimson addresses me once more as I begin to slouch over further. "What makes you think you are a god? Gods are powerful beings who control the very idea of destiny. They are unburdened by life, and more so, powerful above all that exists. They have power that can make the cosmos shake in fear."

    Emanuel took a step forward, but I held my melting arm up. He stared into my eyes, and I nodded my head.

    "All I see is a pile of goo, gasping for life with two bullets in his back." He steps in front of me, Looking down on me as many have before. I cough as I speak, as my form melts more.

    "And I...see...a..." I whipped my head up at him as I dropped the act and returned to my regular state. "SUCKER!"

    The bullets are pushed through my body as I point my index finger at him like it is a gun. He jumped back, but it was too late; the bullets fired out of my finger. The bullets lodge into the arm, holding the stamp.

    "I know it''s not as strong as a regular gun, but I bet those bullets hurt!"

    I made my next moves quickly. He drops the stamp, but before it can hit the ground, a hand stretches out my extended hand and grabs the key. Crimson recovered quickly as he pulled out his knife from behind him, but I was already on my next move. I fire five arms out of my chest with crystalized fits at him. He takes the brunt of all of them except the one aimed at his head. My fist is redirecting as he uses the gun to push it away, but my shop knocks are able to cut the side of his neck.

    "Don''t get ahead of yourself!" Crimson shouted. His feet slid on the ground as he was pushed back. "You false god. You can only wish to be a deity while I am on the path to becoming one. No matter the cost. Be it your life or the kids."

    I see the passion burning in his eyes as he leans forward. He stares at me, reading my expression. His eyes jump to Emanuel, who stares in shock. It was clear to Crimson that, at that moment, we could see his face.

 A Better Plan

    The magic obscuring his face fades. Our eyes are no longer averted when we look at him. Upon closer examination, I came up with two highly educated hypotheses.

    Number one. I noticed a tattoo on his neck. Since my last punch cut him on the neck, right on his tattoo, it could have disrupted the spell. This makes sense, as integral damage to a seal on a spell breaks it. That is why it is common for magical seels to have protection over them. Similar to the stamp used to open the door. The seal is made of strong material and probably has two spells over it. A protection spell that makes it tough to break, and a spell to repair any damage on it. I could tell because this was a mansion, and the door looked expensive.

    He might have relied on his skills to never get it damaged; maybe he could not focus on repairing it because of my impressive moves. The reason is uncertain, but that can be what broke the spell.

    My second hypothesis is he drops the spell to distract me because the DUDE IS HOT! His jawline is sharp, his dark hair goes past his ears, and his red eyes pierce right through me. We all stare at each other, uncertain of what to do next. we all didn''t see this coming. Crismon''s face turns a light shade of red, which must be embarrassing. Mister is a super cool, attractive, fantastic assassin who can predict our every move messed up, probably in the worst way imaginable for him.

    "Your beauty won''t stop me," I shout at him.

    "My What?" Crimson says, confused.

    "Shush those bouncy lips and drop your weapon. You can''t win."

    "We both know that''s a lie." Crimson ignores my compliment. "You haven''t even made any ground. I am willing to bet this is all a facade, and you are quaking in your slimy body."

    He wasn''t wrong. Pain circulated like blood, but I needed to keep the bravado up. I must protect Emanuel and make sure he gets out of this house. Crimson knows we have the upper hand no matter how tough he acts. We have the key and are right next to the door. It''s not a simple turn and open as he is fast enough to get one of us before we can open the door. Though, I still believe we have the high ground.

    Without another word, Crimson lunges at the key in my hand. I moved out of the way, but his gun was already aimed at my head. He pulls the trigger, and the bullet flies at my head, snapping back. Before impact, I channel the Source through it. I wasn''t quick enough to solidify my head, but it did slow the bullet down so that it didn''t blast off. It just slowly pushed through my head. It hurts; it HURTS, but I''m still okay. Even if my head blasted off, I could regrow it with no problem, but regrowing my eyes would be a pain. I''m just lucky he aimed between the eyes and not at one.

    Without a beat, Crimson''s blade comes down at my hand, holding the key. I absorb my arm and the key into my torso before he can get a slice in.

    "Sucks for you, the bullet didn''t work," I say with a chipper tone.

    "That just means I need to use more than one." He responds, mocking my tone.

    He whips his gun around and aims his sights at Emanuel. I leaped forward with no other thought in my mind. He fires four times, with each bullet hitting my back. They sting, but his goal wasn''t to hurt me and distract me enough for his next move. My side burned with incredible pain, with a heat that could melt a glacier. He sliced a chunk of my side, creating a gap big enough for the key and a lump of my slime to fall on the floor. Crimson picks it up but isn''t the only one with moves.

    I morphed into a sphere one of my size. Time to unleash my go-to moves, One Hundred Punch Show.Stolen novel; please report.

    HUNDRED PUNCH is a move where I fire out one hundred fists. They are tough to do at my top speed. Out of the orb, a flurry of crystalized fists bombards Crimson. This move takes a ton of construction as before they hit the floor or a wall, i de-crystalize them to add a level of bounce. That way, they can ricochet off the wall and floor. One drawback is I am a small floating slime ball, only held up for a few seconds by the moment of my rapid-fire blast.

    This movie is meant to overwhelm my opponent as I get a few shots in. Crimson dodges the blows. Tile shatters, floor broadens winter, all in the hopes Emanuel won''t be bothered by the property damage. The movements of my fist are random. They are unpredictable for a normal human, not that apparent otherworldly fighter.

    For the first 25, Crimson dances between them with ease. The following 25 just grazes him as he pushes through. I am learning a new negative to this move. As Crimson pushes forward, he slashes with percions with his knife. Severed limbs fall from the ground as he cuts through the foresty of arms, putting him inches from me.

    That pain engrosses my body as the flames sear into my ooze. I lost mass in abundance. I won''t go down that easy. I fired ten punches simultaneously and hit him in the face, chest, and gut. He is sent flying down the hall, and the key falls.

    I grabbed it and turned to the door. I tossed Emanuel the key and braced myself for the next step in my stupid plan. I jump at the door. I liquified myself and moved under the door through the thin gap between the door and the floor.

    The built-in security system activates. The door surges with the Source and converts it to electrical energy. My body is pumped with enough electricity to power an apartment complex. My body always reacts to electricity differently. I crystallize my hands by converting the Source in my body into electrical energy and giving the ooze a nice voltage massage.

    So, at that moment, my body crystallizes under the door. My focus was on sliding under the quickly and liquifying the crystallized segments. It is hard to do when your body is inflamed with the pain of multiple severed limbs that have calcified by a burning blade.

    I make it to the other side. I have no time to focus on myself. The pain was tremendous but necessary. Emanuel informed me as we were coming up with the plan that the key was the only way to unlock the door unless his father was working in the shop.

    His father had an interior lock in the garage door as he would always tinker with the Solar Sail. He didn''t want the kids to wander into his workspace and lock themselves in, so he installed a secondary lock that can only be opened from the inside, despite having the key. It was an issue for the family as the dad would frequently leave through the garage and enter the house through another entrance if he got distracted and left the left door locked from the inside.

    Low and behold, Emanuel is right. I see a second lock on the door. I unlock both as I hear Crimson charging toward Emanuel.

    "Looks like he left you to die!" Crimson shouts.

    I flip the door open and see Crimson closing on Emanuel with a blade drawn.

    "Nope, he''s with me. " I yank the screaming Emanuel inside the garage and shut the door. I hit both locks and turn to the still-screaming Emanuel.

    "You have the key still? " I say to him.

    He holds the stamp up, and I feel my body go numb with relief. I knock on the door, and if I had a mouth, I would have been smiling wide.

    "Well looks like you''re trapped out there. Good luck getting in."

    I hear Crimson release a guttural yell. I let my body do what it felt right and reverted to a pile of ooze on the floor. It didn''t eliminate pain, but it helped. I can feel the Source channel through the door once more as the security measures kick in.

    Emanuel runs to a draw on a workbench. He presses the same key to the drawer to unlock it. Inside are the keys to the Solar Sail. The ship is the size of a small bus I have seen on other floating rocks. This model is rectangular with a pointed front. The sails are retracted into the ship. Even though it''s been sitting here collecting dust, it''s clear Emanuel''s father took great care of this ship.

    Emanuel opened the driver''s seat, and a SHIT echoed in the garage. From behind the door, I could hear Crimson laugh.

    "Something wrong with the Solar Sail?" He shouts from the other side of the door.

    I looked around the garage and noticed the bottom was full of scratches and scorch marks as if someone had broken in. The worst part is that the bottom was melted from the other side, causing it to fall to the floor. He was already in there. He left the door locked in case he lost the key.

    There is still hope; we can maybe bash through the garage door. I slither over to Emanuel, who was already trying to fix the destroyed dashboard. The steering wheel is melted, and the console has been repeatedly stabbed. He even cut up the seats for good measure.

    We can''t fly the ship, the exit is sealed, and I took too much damage. They planned all of this, and we fell for it.

 Plan B

    People believe coming up with a plan is easy. Everyone has an idea; everyone is an idea, man. Well here''s the reality of the situation. Everyone has ideas, just because you have them doesn''t mean it''s good.

    The real genius lies in between the beginning and end of the idea. Thinking of how it works, irritating, problem solving. The key detail of a good idea and in proxy a good plan, is understanding the purpose of every step.

    For example, I planned to open the door and get the key so Crimson couldn''t get inside. It was a success. It''s just we are up against a guy who can plan in between other people''s plans and prep the pan before the other people know they even know he was there. I should have known; the signs were right there.

    "We should give up," Emanuel whispers.

    "What''s the purpose of that?" I say, lying on the ground and looking at the ceiling. Trying to calculate what our next move can be.

    "We save energy and die in my family vacation home."

    "Mansion."

    "Garage." He snaps back at me.

    "No, my purpose right now is to get you out of here and get you to bake bread. So, I came up with a plan because I am tired. I''m going to look for something to eat."

    I gave the boy space as I searched the garage for anything edible. There was nothing, but I hoped my luck would turn around and produce a miracle. It did, but not as I expected.

    A small door about three feet tall and wide is attached to the wall. Emanuel''s eyes were on the floor, bouncing around as his mind filled with thoughts. I could tell he was mumbling to himself.

    "What''s this door? " I ask, pointing at it.

    It is then that Emanuel''s eyes light up.

    "That''s it!" He shouts. " I have an idea! That door connects to the pantry. It''s meant so that we can slide groceries into the pantry from the trunk of the Solar Sail, car, or any vehicle without carrying them all the way inside.

    "That''s rich people''s architecture," I say, admiring the modern-day miracle.

    Right then, we heard a loud grunt and a bang coming from the door. We turned to find a Crimson blade piercing the top of the door. The security system kicked in, and electricity flooded the knife and Crimson on the other side.

    His screams shredded past the door and bounced around the garage. We were expecting him to stop, but he didn''t. Instead, after a few seconds, I realized the knife was melting the door and slowly cutting the hinges.

    "We don''t have much time. He''s cutting the door down." I say springing up

    Emanuel''s hand shakes as he shows his age at that moment. Face with fear and pressure, his lips seal, and his legs grow weak. I reformed into my hominid shape and grabbed his shoulders.

    "It''s okay," I say, pulling his focus on me. "You were in the middle of telling me your plan. That''s all that matters. Take a breath and continue. On three, okay? One, two, three."

    I fake, taking a deep breath as he stars. I counted again and took another fake breath; this time, he joined. He isn''t calm, far from it. Yet he''s still able to tell me his plan. Part of it required a distraction. That meant I needed to fight him. The other half required intelligent design, which he wouldn''t let me take part in. Emanuel feels that this requires a gentle touch. My hands are litter slime, SOFT, and soft equals gentle. Still, I let him take the lead.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    By the time we finished setting up, Crimson was on the bottom hinge of the door. I want to know WHAT IS THIS MAN MADE OF? To take in that much damage and still continue is astonishing. He''s still a dick but an astonishing dick.

    I am the first to go through the pantry exi. I shrink down and absorb my clothes into my body. This way, I slither into the pantry filled with expired food.

    That pantry is the size of a small bedroom. I turn back into the hole, but Emanuel glares at me. He knows what I will say, so I keep it to myself.

    Now, I don''t want anyone to blame him for the role I''m playing. I volunteered, but it didn''t help the nervousness swallowing me up.

    I made it into the restaurant-quality kitchen and quickly snaked on moldy bread on the counter. It wouldn''t recover my mass quickly as it was moldy and did little to help me build slime fast, but any growth helps.

    I make it to the kitchen corner and watch Crimson continue to slice the door. Electricity danced on his body as he Crimson to pull the knife down. The smell of singed clothes and skin haunts the air, but something strikes at the core of my soul. Every time his skin singed, it began to heal. It wasn''t instantaneous, but it could see parts heal as others continued to sing.

    He continued to take damage, focused on his goal. I did not know if it was greed or determination, but his drive was monstrous. At the moment, one thought crossed my mind.

    Fear.

    I don''t know how I can win. What is a god in comparison to the determination of man other than an obstacle? Still, this wasn''t for me. That''s when I saw the shield on the wall. I had never fought with one before, but if it could lock a few slashes at my body, it''s worth it.

    I carefully removed the shield from the wall, doing my best to avoid making noise. It''s not like he would have heard me past his screaming. The shield is made of metal, at least two inches thick. It is chipped and cut up, but under the collected dust is metal that was wiped down and cared for while it was on the wall.

    On the front is an insignia of one of the bugs his family would farm. It is a large bug the size of a car, with a long horn with a forked end with three prongs. Its body is oval, but its back is ridged with thick spikes. Apparently, the meat under the shell is the most tender and delicious on the whole planet, and it is best when it is in old age.

    Emanuel told me this on our walk. "It''s his family symbol, and we should be thankful for these creatures. They are the reason we have what we have." Emanuel would say. I grabbed the shield and attached it to my arm. I wrap threads of my slime around it to keep it tight and add a woven layer of ooze that crystalizes on the shield. Is it sacrificing some of my mass? Yes, but I don''t know how good the condition of this shield is. What if this was a decorative shield whose only purpose is to hang on the wall? The scratches can be fake, and I''ll be left stabbed like a fool.

    All of these thoughts are a distraction. The pain in my body still lingers and tightens my slime, preventing me from stepping forward. I have faced many horrors in space, but this man. This single man has hurt me more than anything else. The only thing motivating me right now is a crying kid, haunted by this man''s actions, who just wants to bake me a cake, and I am going to earn that cake!

    I settled my nerves, reformed to my humanoid shape, and stepped into the hall.

    "You''re still on that door? What''s your plan? Look at you." I say, faking my bravery. Crimson''s blade stops moving. The air feels like the smoke of his burned skin. He doesn''t turn when he speaks.

    "I don''t know how to got out here, but this will be your end, fake god."

    "Name calling is all you got?" I snicker back.

    He turns to me with a wide smile and a terrifying look in his eye. The burns and wicked stare can''t hide his good looks. I hate him more now.

    "You know there was a world where you could have left alive and continued your weird life. You should have taken that, " he says, facing the door. I bet he wants Emanuel to hear this.

    "There was never a world like that as long as Emanuel needs me," I say, fighting the slime around the shield.

    Crimson turned, revealing his clothes has huge holes in them, exposing his burned skin healing. His teeth gritted as his breath punded out of his mouth. To anyone else, this would be a wild animal, a man who lost his grip on rationality.

    To me, I notice hishand gripping his knife. His other hand moves to his gun. His eyes scan me, whiel leaving no gaps in his stance. He hasn''t lost anything, he is as aware as before. He was alway a beast, ones whos intelgence matches his brutality.

    He pulled the knife out the door with ease and charged at me.

 A Heat Forged in Battle

    I slipped towards the door, but he saw that coming as his gun was aimed at my back when he fired two bullets. I take the pain as a hand pops out of my back with its index finger pointed at his chest. I fire the bullets right at him. He took it without losing momentum.

    I turn, and his blade is aimed at my thigh. I put the shield in front of it. Hot metal sparks fly in the air as his blade scraps the full width of the shield. I swing the shield up and knock him off balance. Leaving an opening for me to land a punch right where I fired on his chest. Thats my best plan, hit him in the same spot and make his regeneration work overtime. The spell is trying to heal his burns, but if i keep wailing on him, I have a chance.

    During this, though, he cut my forearm. Luckily, it is still attached, but it burns. I match it with a fist to his ribs. He slashed my side, and I went for a punch to his cheek. He fires at my leg, and I slam the shield right into his strong jawline.

    We returned blow after blow, each taking a chunk out of the other. However, there was one difference. I could feel my energy drain and my mass dwindle while Crimson, on the other hand, kept getting faster. My plans of draining his energy feel futile. No matter how hard he gets hit, no matter how much Source he uses, he keeps going. This man sips at a fountain that never stops producing. An endless flow surged into him.

    His smile screams maniac, but his eyes display his true emotion. Determination. I don''t know what drives Crimson. I remember his words earlier about his dream of being king. Could that really be what drives him? The ambition of power to go to the lengths of murdering a child for a crocked man, to endure all this pain, continues. He is a man; his fountain will dry, but with this level of determination, we don''t know when.

    My goal wasn''t to win but to hold his attention. During this barrage of blows, I saw Emanuel run down the hall in the opposite direction. Perfect. Now I have to wait for the signal.

    Crimson''s speed soon outpaces mine as he would get three on me for every blow I would land. If I hadn''t had this shield, he would have sliced me up as I blocked a few hits. Then he stabs the shield right through the metal. The blade is centimeters from my stomach. He pushes forward until my back slams onto the metal garage door. He pulls the blade out once more and stabs with great force. I block it with the shield, but it makes a new hole in Emanuel''s family heirloom.

    With one strong push, the blade pierced my shoulder. The heat is intense, and I can feel my slime bubble up.

    "I will give you props, false god, " he says, staring into my eyes. "Never have I met anyone who can take damage like me."

    His blade starts to move down my shoulder and drag across my chest. My vision blurs as my form becomes unstable. All I can think is, "It hurts, it hurts, it hurts." These are simple thoughts, but it was a pain that would bring you back to your infancy.

    "I am going to miss this. I know we just met, but you left a real impact on me. One I will take with me after I kill you. Hey, maybe you are a god because your boiling ooze reached a soul like me." He grins.

    I grab his hand with a multitude of arms flying out of my body. This didn''t stop him; all it did was slow him down. I look into his eyes, and his face is coated in bloodlust. He claims he wants to be a god, but I can recognize what he really is. He''s a human on the path to becoming a devil.

    Then I see it. A stream of blood went down his face from a scratch I had made earlier. The blood pours as the wound remains open. The burns on him stopped healing. I think my plan is working.

    "Shut... up." I spit back at him.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    "No funny joke?" He laughs back at me. "Here I was thinking you were the god of jokes."

    "I... would...love... to be that."

    The blade is halfway through my chest. I may not know the biology of my body or how everything works, but I have never been more grateful that I don''t have vital organs. There must have been a hundred times I would have died during this fight if it wasn''t for me. By the look he is flashing, he is downright gleeful that the fight is still going on.

    Then I hear it from outside. Even though he is shouting, Emmanuel sounds like a whisper from inside the mansion.

    "Lo-caw! Lo-caw!" Emanuel gives the worst Burvuan Fethered Flyer impression I ever heard. Granted, I had never heard a Burvuan Feathered Flyer before, but he literally said the words Caw Caw.

    "Was that Burvuan Fethered Flyer? Out here?"

    It was then that I realized Emanuel is amazing at animal impressions, and it will be a talent I utilize. What matters more is that this abuse can end.

    My focus now shifts from buying time to getting out. With his attention split, I push on the shield. Crimson stumbles back, setting up my next attack.

    I need to create distance between us, so prepare a last-ditch plan that only someone near death is as a genius, desperate, DESPERATE person would do. I add slime to my left arm, where my shield is attached, and crystalize it in the shape of a bow. I don''t fully harden the slime forming the string, just enough to give it a pull. The shield lays on the bow attached to the string.

    My right arm splits into four arms. The migration of slime to my arms made my body thinner and shorter. All four hands grab the shield, and I pull back as hard as possible, with my eyes on Crimson.

    I harden the slime of my arms to give them more strength. The areas you would consider my elbow fire out slime threads at the metal door behind me. The threads pull more of my arms back, pulling on the bow string.

    Crimson charges at me, and I let go of the string. With all the force of my pulling back and the fact that the string is a part of me, so I give it an extra force, the shield fires from my bow with the force of a bullet.

    The pointed end of the shield pierces Crimson, sending him flying down the hall and impales him on the living room wall. His screams echo in the house, as they are of pain but more so frustration. The blade drops like a running faucet from where he is insoles, but he isn''t focused on the pain; instead, he is trying to free himself.

    I dropped my form and slithered under the door, not without paying the price of losing a leg''s worth of slime hardening and getting stuck under the door, though the crystalized goo reinforced it.

    The pain was immense as my vision blurred, but I couldn''t stop. I went through the pantry door again. I expect him to be stuck on the wall, but the shield is on the living room floor, in a pile of blood. I turned to see Crimson focused on cutting the last hinge of the door like we wanted him to.

    I reach down, careful not to make noise, and pick off the shield. It''s heavier than before, as my strength and half my slime are gone. I placed it on my back and let the slime wrap around it like threads. I booked it at the front door, no longer in my humanoid, an oval, but taking on an oval, slug-like shape.

    Emanuel could tell by the way Crimson fought them that if it came to a foot race, he would beat us to his vehicle, easy. So we came up with the plan that Emmanuel would sneak off on his own in search of Crimson''s vehicle. When he did, he would alert me by making the distinct, ugly call of the Burvuan Fethered Flyer.

    My fight bought Emanuel the time he needed to escape and search for the bike, at the risk I could die. At least it meant I was able to help someone. I don''t mind dying. Scratch that I DO MIND!

    I forged past the pain that pierced every cell, past the logic proclaiming me to give up, past the exhaustion begging me to stop. I moved through the house. No need to be silent anymore. Crimson is hyper-focused on getting through that door with the electricity piercing his body and fueled by the rage of me escaping twice.

    I made it outside when an intense wave of heat hit my body. Wooden floorboards and charred pieces of clothes I could never afford hit the sky like balls of sapphire flames. The shockwave of the mansion''s explosion flung me across the yard and past the fence.

    Emanuel''s plan worked. Using the wire and green crystal Crimson set up to explode the ceiling, he tied a trap to trigger as soon as the door opened or what I assumed fell. To add more heat, Emanuel shove the green crystal into the fuel tank of the Solar Sail.

    I crawled forward as the fire surrounded the lawn. No longer in my form, it was a slithering puddle no bigger than a basketball. My vision was getting darker, and my hearing was fading. Embers hit my body, burning the slime, and the shield covered me from most of the blast.

    "No! CID stay with me!" I hear Emanuel''s muffled words call to me. "I can''t lose you! Please don''t leave me. I don''t want to be alone!"

    Darkened eclipse me as I sift away.

 A Dream Has Meaning

    I associate the space from when you close your eyes and start to dream with how I felt diffusing alone in the cosmic sea. A considerable amount of time passes as there are no true indicators of time passing.

    There is no sunrise for you to sleep past to wake up to a gentle light of a clear sky to tell you its day time. No full moon for you to set mine. It''s night, or if you should be afraid of werewolves. The answer is sometimes, if they have non-priced clothes on, you are safe. If they are ripped, run for your life. Unless it''s a style choice, then that werewolf is cool. If you can''t tell the difference, then maybe you''re not as cool as you think.

    I have two thoughts on where dreams come from.

    One is that dreams are a looking glass to another dimension, but more intimate. That''s why things never make sense in these dreams but feel familiar. You experience this all through the eyes of an alternate you.

    This gives the dreamer an illusion of freedom of choice. Imagine you are in a car with self-driving, but they let you spin the wheel, but it doesn''t do anything. It feels good moving the wheel, but the car stays in its lanes.

    Those thoughts, the rationale for those actions of who you are viewing. There are their choices, but you feel the idea of progression, but you don''t. Make the choice. You are seeing what they did, hearing the thoughts that rationalized their choices in your head. It''s a feeling of intimacy, but one-sided. Your hand feels the glove, but to the glove, you are another hand.

    Now, let''s get less depressing and go to theory two.

    The second idea about dreams is that they are a combination of past memories. The faces you see are either people you know or strangers you might have gotten a glimpse of, seen on TV as an extra, or anything really. Dreams are an amalgamation of what was on your mind that day or week or tangential to a story you have seen.

    Basically, dreams are messy soups in which the broth is made of a blended liquid of everything that has happened to you. The chunky ingredients are recent events and thoughts in your mind. If you ever peed yourself in a dream, that means your dream soup was extra brothy that night.

    I believe both are true. The true talent, the ability that will distinguish every person from those with true insight into the universe, is the person who can tell the difference between the two types when they wake up. Bonus points if you can do it during the dream.

    Being as in tune to the universe as I am, I can tell I am currently dreaming. It''s obvious because I am on a ship. The layout is familiar to me, but it isn''t an amalgamation of other ships like it usually is.

    The faces of the people are familiar to me. They all were a part of a ship I was on one way or another. However, it doesn''t take long for me to recognize what all the faces I recognize have in common. They are all dead.

    So, I assume the ones I don''t recognize might fall in the same camp. One is a pale gentleman with long, straight emerald hair. He was thin with his cheeks sunken in. He stood at an impressive seven feet tall. He acts as the ship''s doctor. His nurse was his daughter. She has the same hair and piercing red eyes as her father. They spoke to me with respect and carried themselves in a regal manner.

    They spoke to me about how I should be less reckless in fights and how health, above all else, matters most. They said there is no such thing as eternal life, so i shouldn''t act like I have it. I told them I didn''t think I could die, and the young girl replied.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    "If you think you can''t die, why do you dodge attacks from enemies." Leave it to a kid to stump me. I finished my check-up and left.

    Next was the ship''s church. I am stunned to see it here, dream or not. Normally, every square inch matters in a vessel, and to see a space dedicated to worship is new for me. It wasn''t to me, which is fine. Just because I am a god doesn''t mean I am the right fit for everyone.

    I don''t remember the god''s name, just their long red hair made of feathers draping down her back. She was wearing a dress made of sliver stars and the darkness of space.

    The priest standing at the podium was a gentle older man. He is older by other people''s standards, as he is young in my eyes. No matter how many lines he gets on his face, he is still human with their shorter life spans. He had short black hair with white strands specked about; the same goes for his beard.

    What stood out was that he was missing his ring finger on his left hand. He spoke of his devotion to his goddess and told me to ease up on my claims of divinity. His voice was warm and welcoming.

    I left to find the ship''s navigator and find out where we were going. The navigator was a bald man with a well-kept beard. He even had a cool scar on his eyebrow and right hand. He was dressed in fine clothes and had a satchel to his side. He told me it was up to the Captain to share that information. His demeanor was collected, if not a bit cold.

    "I say enjoy the trip." His voice was deeper than expected, and it carried a commanding presence. "So many are worried about getting to the destination, not spending time looking up at the stars." If I didn''t know he was the navigator, I would assume he was the Captain because of how he carried himself.

    The navigator pointed me in the direction of the captain''s quarters. I knocked on the door, ready to ask for the destination. When the door opened, a cold chill went down my body. It was a face I recognized and would love to forget. Cran held the door open for me, smiling.

    "Welcome, Cid. What do we owe the pleasure? Wait!" Crane''s face filled with worry. "Did I forget to give you your portion from our last job? I''m so sorry. I swore I did. What was your due portion? Let me get it for you."

    "No, no, it''s not that," I replied unsettled. "So I wanted to talk about our next destination."

    "Oh, then, you want to talk to the Captain. I know, but he wanted to keep this place hush-hush from the crew. Come in, come in. You can ask the Captain himself. I know it''s tight-lipped, but you know he has a soft spot for you."

    Crane steps aside. The captain''s quarters are made of the same material as the rest of the ship: regular wood and slightly above-average furniture. It was arranged to make it look more elevated than the rest of the ship, even though it was the same as every other room in the ship. The standouts are the numerous items and knickknacks scattered about and the enormous portal oh himself in the middle of the room.

    This face is fresh in my mind. I recognized it the moment I saw red hair reaching past his ears, a George face contrasted by the wicked look in his eyes. His voice reached across the room and gripped my soul. Crimson is sitting in the Captain''s chairs, adorned in a fine white shirt, expensive rings, and a golden necklace.

    "Oh, Cid. What a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you? Wait... were you not paid?"

    A burning heat coursed through my body as I relived every slash, every stab. My hand goes down my chest, reliving the path his knife took when he had me pinned to the door.

    My vision gets blurred. The room spins as the strength leaves my legs. Crimson jumps from his chair.

    "CId, are you okay? You don''t look well." Crimson says, walking toward me.

    I drop to my knees as the room goes dark. I can barely stay conscious as the room closes in. Crimson grabs my shoulders as he screams.

    "Stay with me, Cid! Stay with me. Crane, get the doctor," Crimson shouts as everything goes black. The noise fades away. I revert to my small slime form as all feeling fades. I feel nothing, as if I don''t exist.

    A sharp metal stabs into my body. I can feel the metal slowly dive into my body. Darkness, a voice unable to take form as the words blur, but there is a light that takes shape. Its hues of blue and purple metal are sticking out of me, and a blurred visage in front of me, with a golden light shining from behind this person.

    I can tell it is a person. I hear their words again.

    "You are a god."

    Then I woke up.

 Time To Wake Up

    My eyes formed in my goo head as I heard the beauty of birds chirping, and a gentle breeze brushed my round ball form. I was surrounded by blue plastic with a flap in front of me, letting the wind in through a small opening.

    Around me was a charcoaled burnt orange rock in the shape of my round form but bigger. To the side of the charcoal rock is the shield I carried on my back. In the center of the burnt rock is a hole.

    I shake off the sleep and take on my humanoid form. Instead of my normal seven-foot-tall self, I am five feet ten inches and much thinner than I would prefer. I need more time and food to recover my size. Yet before that, I need to know where I am.

    I stepped out of a tent made of metal scraps and a tarp I would see in emergency kits. The metallic fabric was sturdy, insolated, and light. The floor was made of the same material on top of burned clothing to soften the burned wood under it used to keep me off the dirt.

    Stepping out revealed a fire pit, a cabinet, a clothesline with clothes drying, two old lawn chairs, a pile of books in a box, and a large ice cooler.

    Curiosity got the best of me, so I started to look at all the stuff. I had to know all I could about my kidnapper or savior. The cabinet was filled with random canned food and an abundance of toilet paper. The collar had salted cured meat.

    There was a tree by the cabinet. Carved on it were a multitude of tally marks. The first few were slippy and rigged, but the tallies became clean and straight the further I counted. I don''t know what they meant, but I remember giving up counting after 392 tallies.

    The sky above is clear, and the trees shuffle and sing with the winds drifting into the forest domain. I could hear two rivers nearby. One is freshwater teaming with life, which is essential to life on most planets to produce life. I put my hand in the water and noticed something peculiar.

    The magical energy known as the Source is found everywhere, from the depths of the cosmos to the smallest bacteria. When someone uses magic, it is spoken through a spell or used by symbols to bring the idea to life. Then, the source is absorbed through the body and channeled out through an emitter, a wand, ring, or anything with a potent amount of Source in it.

    Housing the source gives it a magical fingerprint. People use this to determine if a fire is naturally occurring or caused by a spell. They compare the Source energy of flames or ashes to the surrounding area if they are too late. If they don''t match, then they can determine the flames were made by magic as a natural fire would be similar to the Source energy around the area. Someone with immense talent can tell them apart from the individual. I am not one of those people. However, I can tell that this water''s Source does not match the area around us.

    The second river is called the LIFE VIEN. The planet''s other water source is dark purple. I remember reading a book while trying to wind down in Emanuel''s mansion, which stated that the thicker purple water is a source of life on the planet. It allows plants to grow and animals to evolve on the planet; it''s the lifeblood of everything.

    Putting my hand in it, I can feel not one but two different sources. One is familiar with the same fresh water from the other river. The second is a powerful energy. Its power encompasses me as if i am back in space, staring at the void. Instead of feeling isolated, I feel like i am being stared at from all angles. I pull my hand out immediately, fearing I would be pulled in forever if I focused on that half too long.

    It''s clear that LIFE VIEN is a diluted combination of both. It provides great health benefits to everyone who drinks it. This may be a small planet, smaller than some other rock moons, but it provides life, shelter, and care for everyone who is on it. I fear, though, anyone who is able to get a pure dose of the other half. It holds great power, but the cost to harness it may be too great for some.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    However, I did gain something from touching it. I became aware of a presence. I can''t determine what it is, but a magical energy is searching for me. I can feel it sniffing me down. It''s far from where I am, farther than i can determine. It can be twenty miles or two thousand. All I know is it is looking for me.

    I return to the tens, return to my small form, and rest in the tent, looking at the start. I spread thin wires made of my goo all around the ground. After the mess at the mansion, i can''t risk getting caught off guard. The negative is I can''t move from my spot as it requires me to be still.

    The threads spread all around the campground and a few miles out. I don''t have enough slime to stretch far, but it will work for now. I need to figure out how to keep this form while I am asleep as thats is when it is needed the most; Then, CRACK.

    FUN FACT

    I hear through all my goo. Talking to any part of me is as if you''re saying it to me. I won''t hear what is said to any detached part of me, but once it rejoins my body, i hear what was said like a stored message. So don''t talk behind my back to spar my feelings because I will hear it and be hurt worse. So much worse.

    I morph into a slender, limbless form and slither to a tree branch, hiding within the leaves. Emanuel emerges in dirty clothes and a filled satchel slung over his shoulders. He is four inches taller than I remember, and his hair now reaches past his ears. I pop my head out of the leaves with my eyes wide.

    "EMANUEL!" I scream with enough force to shake some leaves on the trees. He looks up at my long, tube-like body. His mouth is gaping, and he drops the bag as his eyes light up.

    "CID!" He shouts back.

    He runs to me as I leap from the branch. My body morphs into my humanoid shape. Emanuel hugged me as soon as I landed. I could feel the warmth of his tears on my cold chest as he buried his face. I can''t tell if he is embarrassed to show his face or caught in disbelief. As if he pulled away, I would fade out of existence.

    "When did you wake up?" He asks, still hiding his face. I pull back and lower my body to look at him in the eye. I don''t know if it''s because I lost slime or he got taller, but I don''t have to lower my head that far.

    "Only a short while ago. Looks like I''ve been asleep a few weeks."

    "A few weeks?" Emanuel shouts back. I stumble back from the sheer shock his anger carried. "You were asleep for so long. I thought you would never wake up. I didn''t know how to tell if you were alive. You were much smaller than when you slept before. Once I saw a chip where some slime was exposed, I panicked as you didn''t respond to me. I didn''t know if shoving food in you would help, but every time I did, it would start to dissolve, so I kept putting more food and more food and-

    I place my arm on his shoulder as he looks up at me.

    "No, that is right," I say. "When it comes to me, shove food into my body when in doubt. That is always the right call."

    He wiped his tears as he felt safe enough to pull away fully.

    "I have no idea where we are," I say as we return to camp. "Now''s a good time to explain what is happening. What happened to Crimson? Is he chasing us?"

    Emanuel sat me down and wrapped a blanket with a large hole in it. At first, I thought it was a cardigan, but he corrected me. He told me what I missed while a pot of milk heated on the campfire.

    He said that after the mansion exploded, he ran into the fire to find me. The flames towered over him, but he pushed through. He found his family shield propped up by a slime body, part of which burned and the other clinging to the shield. He took off his jacket, wrapped it around his hands, and grabbed the shield. He pulled me out of the fire.

    He tries to hide his hands, but I can see the scars on the palms of his hands. The jacket mediated some of the damage, but it was not enough. It was because of me that he suffered. i caused that pain.

    After grabbing me, he stole Crimson''s bike. He returned the next day to see if there was anything he could scavenge but only found burnt items that made up this campsite. He mentioned he found the chard hand sticking out of a pile of rubles where the garage used to be. He assumes it belongs to Crimson. That brought me ease as i never wanted to see that hauntingly handsome face again.

    I asked how he could ride a bike, and he said. "My dad taught me for when i was going to take over the business."

    Since then, he has been in the woods, only going into town to steal food and other items he needs. He was worried that the thievery was tainting his morality. I placed my hand on his shoulder again and offered my godly wisdom.

    "It''s all good. I forgive you." His confused blank stare reassured me that this eased his heart even though he said it meant nothing to him. With me awake, he wanted to charge toward the docks and follow the original plan.

    He stood up with eager bravado, but I stayed seated as I spoke.

    "No."

 Hot Coco Is Not A Dish Best Served With Revenge

    The milk in the bent pot simmer over the fire as the "No" lingers. A word no kid ever wants to hear. Still, I think it is a necessary response to what was said.

    The anger inside Emanuel bubbles up to the surface. He tries to hide it, but his clutching fist shows the truth. I will give credit where credit is due. He doesn''t yell or argue. Instead, he takes a deep breath. His words carry his frustration, but instead of slamming them at me, he places them on the table, forcing me to examine them with extra care.

    "It''s our only option." He starts to say. Vic has blacklisted us. No one will sell me a pair of socks or a bag of flour, let alone a Solar Sail. The only kindness people show is forgetting my face and not letting it out that I am still alive. If we wanted supplies the legitimate way, we would have to travel to the outer reaches of this rock and hope Crane''s words haven''t reached there yet.""

    Not even a pair of socks. Those words echo in my mind. I need to make right another pain I caused. I need to make a note of getting him a pair of socks at some point. Please remember slime. Don''t forget.

    "Let''s go over the facts," I say. "I''m not at my full strength. Since Crimson is dead, we know Crane knows we are alive. What''s waiting for us if we go down is death and mutilation.

    "I can fight."

    "But you didn''t. When faced with Crimson, you didn''t fight." I say to him. He bites his lip as he looks at the floor. His hands clenched his stained pants. He avoids my gaze as it''s clear I hit a sore spot. Though this has to be said. I don''t want him to risk his life unnecessarily. In the back of my head, I feel the sneaking suspicion that I may have been the wrong thing to say.

    "Don''t get me wrong. You have a brain on you. Your planning skills under pressure are amazing. I want to utilize that skill and channel it to ways to help you understand when you should and shouldn''t fight. Violence isn''t the best solution. Still, it doesn''t mean I won''t teach you to fight.

    "Wait, you want to teach me how to fight?"

    I stirred the hot cocoa powder with a spoon into the pot and used small tendrils to grab the cups. "I want to train you if you will let me. I know I lost my last fight. "

    "But you came out alive?" he said, confused.

    "That is your first listen." I respond. "Learning the difference between surviving a fight and winning a fight. The second lesson is learning that surviving a fight is far more important. Who cares if you lose. You live another day, and thats worth more than any gold or glory.

    I handed the cup to Emanuel, who looked deep into the coco.

    "I want to learn to fight." He says.

    "This is your choice. I won''t force you. You can step away and leave everything to me."

    "No, i want to."

    "I am being honest. I am determined to get you off this rock and somewhere better. You choosing to fight or not fight will not change what i do. I mean it."

    Emanuel takes a minute to think. It brings me an odd sense of joy that he is debating it. It means he is giving what I say serious thought. I grab the hot cocoa,pen a hole in my head, and pour it in. I can tell this is a bit distracting. As the coco moves through my slime and gets absorbed, Emanuel stares at it, his eyes following the coco down my head. I pump the cup down until he is done talking.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    "I don''t want to hold you back. I want to be the reason we win, the one who gets us out of this rock." He says.

    "Thats a big goal. Think you could do it." I say, leaning forward.

    "Isn''t it your job to make sure I can? As my future teacher and all."

    "It''s my job to provide you with the tools you need to reach that goal, provide guidance to help and be there for you. Reaching the level you aim for is up to you. I can pave your path, but your feet walk down it.

    Emanuel stared at me. He looked down at his coco, staring at his reflection. I wish I had insight into his thoughts. My plan was not to get him involved at all. My dream scenario would be leaving him here at the campsite while I make it to the docs and steal the Solar Sail for us both. Thats if I could make it past the obvious beef-up security. If I weren''t shot out of the skies, I would fly that ship back to our campsite and pick him up. I don''t want to put this kid through any more hardships.

    He looked up from the cup and saw the look in his eyes as he stared directly into mine. It wasn''t the eyes of a single person but a gathering of many. I saw the stare of a warrior, the stare of a child, the stare of an adventurer. I saw multitudes of what Emanuel could be, but not one was a man seeking revenge.

    I know he didn''t tell me eveeverything abouts time alone. I don''t know he doesn''t want to burden me, or is angry at the fact that I left him alone. I would understand the anger, but I really hope that itsit''st that reason. All of this leads me down to one question. T¡ªthee that will detdeterminee course of action we take from today on.

    "I train you to survive and make it out of a fight with your life," I tell Emanuel. "We go together to steal the Solar Sail and find a new planet to live on where we can relax and have a good life. I include you in every step of the process. All of this will be true if you answer my next question. It has to be the truth, the full truth. No secrets, no double meanings. Only the truth."

    "Understood," Emanuel says, noticing the mood shift. He can tell I''m not joking, that at this moment, i am as serious as I can be.

    "Before, during the mission, or after, will you go out of your way to kill Crane?" I ask.

    "I hate him. M¡ªmore than I hateyone else, excexceptr Crimson. I hated him too. Crane th, though, the one who gave the order. He is the one who took my family. All because of what? Money? He was already rich. I¡ªhink just as rich as my family. If I get a chance to kill him, I will.

    "But do you seek revenge?"

    Emanuel takes another minute to think to himself before responding.

    "I want us to leave here and live our lives."

    "Good. Don''t seek revenge. Your life shouldn''t be dedicated to another."

    He takes a sip as I give him a moment to himself. Nothing we discuss should be discussed with a child, but this is our world.

    With the conversation wrapping up, I think now is a good time than ever to drink the hot chocolate. Emanuel''s grossed-out stares don''t bother me. Still, I don''t know why he feels so comfortable staring at me like that when I am forced to watch him drink.

    Fun Fact

    Having a permanent hole in your body that opens and closes is disgusting to me. At least mine closes up, but I''m somehow disgusting. Are you kidding?

    An idea suddenly pops into my head as the coco pours into my body.

    "Vic owns the shipyard, right?" I ask. Emanuel nods as he takes a sip of his drink. "Like, thats his main source of income?"

    "That is correct," Emanuel responds cautiously.

    "Is everyone insured?"

    "Oh yeah. My dad taught me about it when I would take over the business. That was one of the few businesses Crane couldn''t get his hands on. A company called the Rock runs all the Solar Sail and business insurance. They have great plans and normally pay out more than it''s worth. Which, let''s be honest, a rarity in this industry."

    I lean forward and match the severity of my tone earlier. Emanuel locks eyes, feeling the change in the wind.

    "Remember, we don''t seek revenge," I say, putting the cup on the floor and staring into his eyes. "But we can try to blow up the docks on our way out. If we can. That way, everyone gets money, and Crane is screwed out of money and power."

    I stand up and stretch my slime. "Awesome, that''s our plan," I say, looking down at him.

    Emanuel stared at me gap-jawed. Either because of what I said or he could see the hot chocolate floating in my body. Either way, I left him in awe, as any good god should do.

    "Alright, let''s get training," I say, picking up his family shield.

 The Core Principles Have History

    The core principles of training are the same as those of all forms of teaching. The best way to tackle them is through my own development method. I am not the originator of this concept, merely the organizer. It¡¯s based on people¡¯s work who are much smarter than me, but I condensed it to a simple three-principle guide. This is the method I focused on when I was training Emanuel over a long period.

    First is the fundamentals¡ªthe basic core of everyone¡¯s training. From my previous fights, I wouldn¡¯t be shocked if he thought I would teach him hand-to-hand combat as this main way of fighting. My hand-to-hand combat style is nearly impossible to replicate. I mean it. I will buy them a huge wheel of the most expensive cheese. Anyone worth their salt knows good cheese is worth its weight in gold, but I digress. My fighting style is based on many fighting styles I had the opportunity to study, as well as my unique godly gelatin physique.

    Though I taught him the basics to build on more advanced techniques, my true talent is developing my unique style. My divine technique is getting Emanuel to make the best fighting style that fits him specifically. It is truly a one-of-a-kind teaching. Once it gets out, people will come flocking to me for the opportunity to learn. Granted, this is my first time teaching it. So I need to ensure it works, or Emanuel will end up¡­ let¡¯s not think of that. I can¡¯t handle that thought.

    To get this down, I first focused on the basics of a few tent pole fighting styles. We went from basic one-handed weapons to two-handed weapons, firing projectiles, long sticks, short sticks, and things on ropes. I had to go steal big guns and small guns from a local gun shop¡ªjust kidding. I said I wanted to try some out, and they gave me free samples to test them out in the wild, and I never returned. The gun laws in this city are garbage.

    Focusing on this lets Emanuel grow accustomed to multiple scenarios. I¡¯ll give it to him. He is a quick learner, and thats his best talent. He absorbs information and retains it at a rapid pace. However, I feel I am not a naturally born talent. Instead, I think it''s a skill he developed during his short life. To get to where he is at such a young age is inspiring and heartbreaking.

    Recognizing this, I make sure every time we stop training and explore the woods, read a book we borrowed, or play a game, something to let him enjoy his younger years; he is a cheater at chess; I swear, I would always be one or two. Moves away from winning, and then BOOM, checkmate. He laughed and said I should stick to checkers. The day he said that, I made him run extra laps. He still said it again in the next match.

    This leads to the second step. Improve what they are good at. From there, I learned he shined in two specific areas, wielding two buttons and firing handhelds. There was relief and disgust at the realization of that discovery. One Emanuel could see on my face.

    ¡°Are you not happy with my improvement?¡± he asks, worried

    ¡°No, you''re doing great, fantastic even.¡± He can hear the hint of disappointment in my voice. I hope he can tell that it isn¡¯t aimed at him but at me. I think thats asking too much from a kid.

    ¡°Then why do you look sad?¡±

    ¡°It''s¡­ I pride myself on my fighting style.¡° I say. Emanuel glares at me as he sees a slime basking in my ego. To his defence, i am standing in the sunlight, and my slime glistens in the rays of light like a jewel shining on a crown. It¡¯s not my fault I was born beautiful. Still, i digress and continue to talk.

    ¡°It''s versatile, not just in use but in force. I have a heavy degree of control over what is considered lethal force or, most of the time, non-lethal. I can get them to give up or knock them out long enough to get away.¡±

    ¡°You said most of the time,¡± Emanuel says, catching on to the one section I hoped he wouldn¡¯t. ¡°You¡¯ve killed someone.¡±Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡°There is no King or God with unstained hands.¡±

    Emanuel takes a step back. I lower my gaze and shrink in size. The shame is strong.

    ¡°I did what I did to save the lives of many.¡± My words rattled up my throat before coming out steady and in control.

    Emanuel''s eyes beg to hear the story. My chest aches, as even though I don¡¯t have a heart, my guilt and shame gather there. I think it started to happen there after people told me the heart carries the burden of the body and soul. I guess subconsciously, that became where the burden lives in my body.

    ¡°It was a ship called Melted Metal.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s cool! Was it because it was equipped with cannons so hot it would melt any ship that it came across in the stars?¡± Emmanuel asks with excitement.

    ¡°It was made of scraps that the crew melted together to construct the ship. It looked like wax at the top of an already lit candle.¡±

    ¡°Ok then, who did you kill?¡±

    I sat down, and with no enjoyment, I told him the story of Melted Metal. It was earlier on in my life. Sometime after, I woke up alone on a floating rock. It was the second crew I ever joined. I will help back the story of my first one as I would like to keep that to myself.

    We said the stars and throughout space for years together. i grew close to them all, especially a certain member. Ethan. A young man with dreams of being captain. It made sense as he was the son of the current head of our ship, his mother, Captain Lein.

    She was a strong leader and one I would follow into a black hole if she commanded it. Our relationship went from trusted crew member to trusted friend to the ones who held each other hearts. My loyalty melded with love, and I could feel time slow. This was a rare moment. i wasn¡¯t alone in space anymore. I had a home that I was welcomed to. I was given a promise that no matter the fight, no matter the heartache. Waiting for me was forgiveness and open arms. It was a promise I reciprocated back. Most of all, we had trust.

    We shared every aspect of our day and every minute we had. The crew thought he was gross and ¡±over romantic,¡± but we were happy. Lein had only one rule for me. We don¡¯t ask about our past. She wanted a fresh start for both of us. All she had to do was ask. However, that meant she didn¡¯t know that I was already older than her by many years old I am. Only that I am a god. Something she chuckled at every time I mentioned it.

    It was no secret from the crew or Ethan. In fact, he encouraged it. He was in his mid-twenties, so to him, he wasn¡¯t a child who feared his mother snatched away. Instead, he was a proud son to his mother and a good friend to me. Though there were jealous crew mates.

    Our job was simple, we would transfer goods from one place to another. This ranged from important seeds to help populate other colonies or supplies to the outer reaches of the colonies, but not many dared to go.

    Around our third year together, I noticed portions of our deliveries missing, and cyphered communications were coming from our ship. With the help of two crewmates, Onto and Plus, I could track and decipher the messages. I learned that this person had been selling our goods and something far worse was coming.

    We were transporting a large palate of what I thought was a medicine that would bring salvation to a dying colony. The messages revealed the truth. It was a new bio-weapon meant to start a plague. The area we were entering was a war zone, and we were bringing death, not hope.

    We arrived two days late, but we had to stop at a docking station to resupply. There, the message was planned to meet a group of men with a bioweapon and sell it for an unimaginable sum.   Everyone was out partying as we three were left to guard the ship, so it made sense why they would do it then.

    Onto and Plud ran to the lower quarters immediately as I went to alert Lein. She was never a partier and preferred to take advantage of the silence and read. I returned to our quarters, but she wasn¡¯t there. My mind slipped for a moment, and I thought, ¡°What if she is the one selling?¡± I ran out of the room, pushing that thought away. I trusted her; there was no way she could. Yet, she lied about our delivery. How many deliveries were untrue? Then it hit me. We weren¡¯t a cargo ship. We were smugglers. Every delivery is a falsehood, but to how many?

    I reached the lower deck and felt a puddle of warmth mix with my slime. I looked down to see blood splattered on the floor, leading to the dead bodies of Onto and Plud. I saw the glisten of familiar gauntlets. On the tops are gems that emit powerful energy. It is a power of battle and a powerful weapon that can manipulate and shape the Source around us. I knew who the wielder was from the moment I saw how the bodies were mangled, but I refused to believe someone so kind and gentle could do this.

    I saw them with a menacing grin that looked uncharacteristic on their face.

    ¡°Why did you kill them?¡± I shouted as the bloodstained killer, Ethan.

 What I Need To Be

    The gauntlets'' onyx shine was covered by blood. Ethan was unaware of my presence. I spent a few seconds staring at the room. The best course of action was to jump in and confront him immediately, but I couldn''t. My eyes were jumping from the floor, back to his hands, to the ceiling, back to his hands, to the bodies, and back to the blood dripping off the tips of his fingers. Each time, hoping to find a clue, or better, a justification for Ethan¡¯s violence.

    I couldn¡¯t find one, but I still refused to believe he would do this in cold blood. I let my presence be known by shouting at him.

    ¡°What is going on here?¡±

    Ethan jumps back as his mind is still focused on taking the cargo on an escape pod and rendezvousing with the buyer.

    ¡°Cid, this isn¡¯t what it looks like.¡± He says panicked. He waved his hands around, trying to remove the bloodstains. He doesn¡¯t rub the blood on his clothes but shakes it in the air, afraid it might ruin his image. He looked up at me with a changed expression. He was no longer smiling, filled with the adrenaline of a battle won. Instead, his face was flooded with guilt, as if he was trying to run away and pretend I never saw him.

    The gauntlet rattled with every shake as the metal scarps against itself. Any blood on the gem burns off as it absorbs more of the Source into it. Only later did I notice that meant he never turned them off. All the while he spoke, Ethan made sure to stay on the offensive. Even when talking to me, of all people.

    ¡°This can¡¯t be what it looks like,¡± I said, trying to hide the whimper in my voice.

    ¡°Cid, hear me out.¡± He pleaded.

    ¡°I keep looking around for something to show me I am looking at this wrong, that my eyes are lying to my mind.¡±

    ¡°Listen, we''ve known each other for years. Since I was young.¡±

    ¡°But my eyes see everything too clear.¡±

    ¡°You were my mentor.¡±

    ¡°The blood on your hands.¡±

    ¡°We played games and went on adventures.¡±

    ¡°Yet none of it is yours. You don¡¯t have a single wound, yet they have many.¡±

    ¡°When my mother wasn¡¯t there, and that was plenty of times I saw you as a guardian.¡±

    ¡°They were our friends.¡±

    ¡°You were like a father.¡±

    ¡°Why choose this path? Why sell us out? Why kill our friends?¡± I shouted, holding back my pain.

    ¡°You don¡¯t know? That can¡¯t be,¡± he says, shocked. He waits for my response, but I don¡¯t have any. I have no clue what he is talking about. That fact somehow hurt him more, as if my not knowing was almost as big a betrayal as what I was looking at.

    ¡°You who hold all her secrets,¡± Ethan started to say. ¡°You know my mother better than anyone. That includes me. You, of all people, ask me why. That means he hasn¡¯t told you yet. She was probably waiting until this job was done.¡±

    I took a step forward as I spoke. ¡°Let''s calm down. I have to report this to the Captain.¡±Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Oh, it''s just the two of us here. You can call her by her name, not that title.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s head to the brig. I think we should wait for her there.¡± I stopped talking as he raised his gauntlet.

    ¡°We know how she is as a person,¡± Ethan says. ¡°A brave captain of the ship who would put her life on the line for her crew because deep down she truly loves everyone on this ship. The crew knows we are all equal in her eyes except for two people, you and I. That is how it should be, right? We should be the exceptions. The one who she chooses to marry and make her equal, and me, her son. The one she raised since she birthed me. The one who carries her name, her blood, her sins. We are above the crew. We are the exception.¡±

    He steps forward but I don¡¯t move. I felt the room spin as he spoke, uncertain of where this will go as he continued to speak.

    ¡°Though it doesn¡¯t feel that way. You hold secrets of her past, I don¡¯t know, don¡¯t you? Secrets she finds unsuitable for her little baby boy. Either she is afraid I would worry, or more likely, secrets that would taint the perfect image I am supposed to have of her in my mind. Though, I am certain she still hid secrets from you. One I am certain of you now know since you are here. What is the true nature of this ship? What have we been truly carrying?¡±

    I stare him in the eye, afraid he would strike if I avoided his gaze.

    ¡°Though that¡¯s not what matters. I won¡¯t lie to you, Cid. One of the reasons I was okay with you marrying my mom was that I never thought that would affect our three standings. You were already a parent to me in my mind, and I feel deep down you might have seen me as a son.¡±

    I stay quiet, letting him let it out.

    ¡°When it comes to Mom, I always knew I was above you. A partner she choose has to be weaker than the blood she had. You weren¡¯t even her first love, so I must be at a higher standing than you. The one who carries her name, her blood, her sins!¡±

    His shout echoes in the room, and I still don¡¯t move. The rage in him pushes forward until it circles back to grief. His words tremble, and his eyes water as the betrayal pierces his heart.

    ¡°Then why did she pick you? Why are you to inherit all this hers but not me.¡± The room settles for me as his words ground me.

    ¡°That can¡¯t be true,¡± I whisper out.

    ¡°All this will be yours, from the deck floorboards to the crew''s shoelaces. My mother plans on giving everything to you.¡±

    ¡°Thats impossible. You''re her son.¡±

    ¡°She told me herself. She said everything would transfer to me when you passed away. She made sure of it. But she doesn¡¯t know if she is Cid.¡±

    I knew what he meant, and I grew to regret either sharing or not sharing. I guess it is better to say that secret.

    ¡°You only told me, didn¡¯t you? Its not right to keep screts in a marriage but I hguess you can¡¯t be blame. Mother hid a big one from you so we can¡¯t expect better from her. She doesn¡¯t know that , at least to your knowledge, you can never die and you will outlive all of us by centuries!¡±

    His shout echoed in the empty ship as the blood stretched across the room.

    ¡°I would never have the ship, " he continued. ¡° All my work building this empire would fall to the hands of another. Someone who does not deserve the wealth built by my family¡¯s blood and sweat. So, with it no longer in my grasp, I needed to start my own crew and get my own ship. That isn¡¯t easy, and I can never afford it doing the jobs we get. My dreams can come true by selling this cargo combined with the money I have made.¡±

    ¡°I would have given you the ship,¡± I say back.

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t.¡± He barks back. ¡°You proclaim yourself a god. I never heard of a god giving up his goods to us mere mortals. Your ego would never allow it. Once your slime touches power, you will never relinquish it. That is the one area you gods are no better than us.¡±

    I stepped forward as I continued to beg him to stand down. ¡°I know you know what we are carrying. In the wrong hands, that can murder an entire colony, world, or system. I can even comprehend the damage it can cause. Together, we can burn the contents and save millions, if not billions, of lives.¡±

    For a moment, I saw it. His finger twitched, an interruption in his breathing. He contemplated it. The weight of life momentarily lay on his shoulders. I pushed past what my eyes told me and tried to see the real situation. In front of me wasn¡¯t a vicious killer who would drown a planet in blood, but a hurt child. A kid who was hurt by his mother. This situation can be fixed if we all lie bare our secrets and talk. I needed to be the god he spoke of and lead us to peace. I needed to be the partner to his mom he spoke of and lead with truth. I needed to be the friend he needed and let him cry and let out the pain he was hiding.

    TI steps forward, and I hear the gushing sound of my boot stepping into the pile of blood. I see it stretch from the dead body riddled with claw marks.

    I reached out my hand. Ethan raised his. Dark black energy is emitted from the gauntlet, forming dark claws that harden light. He slashed my chest.

 And The Reason I Became

    Slime and tore fabric from my shirt spackle the air. I reacted right away as I hardened one of my hands and pushed him across the room, slamming him into a wall. He swings at my extended arm, but I retract it before he can get a cut on me.

    ¡°With this, I will be free to do what I want. If you were truly my friend, you would let me leave. If you are truly a god, you would answer this prayer.¡± Ethan shouts with bloodlust, soaking his words.

    I stood my ground and hardened my fist. His movements were precise yet wild. We were familiar with each other¡¯s fighting style. We were each other''s first choice in sparing partners and fought many bandits trying to steal our cargo together.

    We both avoided taking each other¡¯s lives during this fight, but now I wonder if I was blind to his true actions instead. Every swipe with the claw, every slash to my slime, would have been a lethal blow to anyone else. Did he do that knowing I could take it? The claws didn¡¯t emit heat, so reforming my slime was easy as any knocked off me would slither back to me.

    He went for a stand to my chest, but instead, he ripped apart my shirt as I was no longer inside my clothes. I slithered out and went in between the gaps of the floorboards. I wormed around under the floor as he tried to follow my movements. He dug into the wood with his claws like an animal digging for a rodent to eat.

    His eyes weren¡¯t anything I saw before. I¡¯ve seen them enraged by battle and adrenaline. This was different. It came from somewhere deeper but less primal. I snuck behind him and fired six fists from under the floor. He turned in time and blacked most of them, but two hit him in the stomach.

    He dug the gauntlet''s nails under the wood and fired a blast of magical energy. No spell or incantation, just raw energy. I flew out the floorboards and splatted on the wall. He wasted no time and went to stab me with his nails.

    I formed a gap where he aimed and hit the pure metal of the wall. I lept off the wall and wrapped around him. I formed my legs and stretched them to the floor. My feet seeped in between the floorboard and hardened, anchoring me down. I used the full force of my body to fling him in the air and slam his body down. I couldn¡¯t give him time to feed. I trained him; I knew what he was capable of and how fast his mind worked.

    I formed multiple fists, and while he was down, I pumped him. He was using the gauntlets'' energy to create a thin shield over his body, but with how fast and strong my fist was hurtling down, he couldn¡¯t react, so I thought.

    The energy shield glowed brighter until a pulse of energy sent me flying back. Unfortunately for him, my hand was on his gauntlet and solidified. I swing him across the room. When his body slams into the wooden boxes, splintered wood and cans of Lirian Fruit plates are in the air.

    It didn¡¯t take Ethan long to notice that this was a losing battle. Whenever he knocked me down, I would get right back up with my hands ready. So, in a desperate plea, he overloaded the gauntlets with the Source.

    ¡°If I can¡¯t win, I will take this ship with us, including the cargo. The blast is concussive, not fire. Nothing will burn. The bioweapon will spread through the docks and onto every ship.

    ¡°All will die,¡± I say, begging him to reconsider. ¡°Your blast will send this virus flying all over the port. To every person, every spoon of food, every wood plank on any ship.  We know ships leave the dock at all hours. I guarantee there is a vessel with its engines revving as we speak. If you blow this up, that ship will be caked with this vile stuff. What will happen to the crew? They won¡¯t know what is killing them. What if some survive and make it home? Infect their family, their community, and their planet! All life in the Conscious Sea will die, and it won¡¯t stop in this system. No, it will spread to others. The Taloned Sea, The Ethereal Spire Sea, The Rainbowed Ocean, and even the depths of the unknown systems in the Lost Trench. All life can end here. Please stop.¡± You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    His eyes were panicked, and his words trembled. ¡°Turn back, Cid!¡± Ethan yells. Turn away and let me leave with this. I will never set foot on this ship if you do.¡± It was clear he hated making this choice, but that wouldn¡¯t stop him. ¡°If you don¡¯t, all that you said will come true.¡±

    I debated it for a moment. The virus wouldn¡¯t spread, and Ethan would live. I could get a second chance and find him in space. Time heals all wounds, and with enough of it, maybe all three of us can come together and have him change his ways. That would be a miracle.

    I looked down at all the blood spilled that night, and another thought crept into my head. He would take the bioweapon. He will sell it to someone eager to get their hands on it, just like the person paying us to deliver it. If they want it, the chances of them being the kind of person who would dispose of it would be near zero. He would get his crew at the cost of a planet''s worth of lives at a minimum.

    ¡°I can¡¯t let you go,¡± I said, stepping forward.

    ¡°Then we all go.¡± His gauntlets glow brighter.

    I jumped forward, stretching my arms. The first was to hit a button on the wall behind him. Once pressed, the doors to an emergency escape pod opened. The other hand pushed him in. His body slammed into the pod console. A wave of cursive magic came out, damaging the pod''s electronics. I slammed the door shut, and I locked him in.

    The door shakes as he punches it, trying to knock it off its hinges. Each hit unleashes another wave of energy that breaks more of the inside and dents the door. The room grows brighter and brighter as he shouts.

    ¡°Let me out!¡± His eyes burned with anger.

    ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± I whimper out. ¡°It didn¡¯t need to be this way.¡±

    ¡°You made it this way. Don¡¯t you ever forget that Cid? All this pain, all this blood, it is on your hands. You who proclaim the crown are never free from the action¡¯s others take because of you. You can¡¯t take a step without the bugs under you. You can''t drink water without thinking of the wilted flowers. You can¡¯t enter one''s life without accepting the outcome of their actions because of your words.¡±

    The room is silent as I let his words hand in the air. I look him in the eye. ¡°I know that now.¡±

    He continued to pound on the door, with the spell getting stronger with every hit. He wasn¡¯t bluffing; he fully intended to blow up the ship. The console on the wall beside me flashed, ¡°Ignition ready.¡±

    I look at him as my hand hovered over the button. After everything was said and done, I still hesitated. This time, out of my own fear. I can¡¯t predict the ripple effects of this. How will Lien react to the news? Will she believe me? What about the rest of the crew? However, that was for later down the road.

    I pressed the button, and the pod began to shake. It was then that I heard her voice.

    ¡°Ethan!¡± Lein shouts out. She stood in the entryway in view of everything. Her eyes turn to the bodies on the floor, then to her son begging to be free, and then to me, the one sending him off into space. Her eyes filled with sorrow and pain. She ran past me and to the console. It was too late; the pod detached, and the engines fired. She slammed the door, crying out to her baby boy. She didn¡¯t notice the blood on his gauntlets, but what parent would when their child was about to die?

    The pod fires into space.

    ¡°Help me, mother!¡± He screams as the pod moves away,

    ¡°I will find you, my son!¡± She shouts, banging on the closed door to prevent her from falling into space.

    I could still see the glow as the pod went deeper and deeper into space. I waited for the explosion as I could see the light grow brighter, but it never came. He chose to stop it. I reached out to Lien to comfort and explain. Instead, she pulled her pistol, blasted my head off, and then fired two shots into my chest before running off to start the ship to catch him.

    She was unsuccessful. A ship this size needed a crew to start up quickly, and the single-person start-up process took too long. Once everyone returned, the captain ordered them to throw me in the brig. No force was necessary, as I went willingly, but that didn¡¯t mean none was used. Everyone blamed me for the deaths of Ethan, Oton, and Plud.

    One of those deaths was on me. After reviewing the ship''s footage, it was revealed that the escape pod¡¯s steering, guidance, and many life support features were damaged from the inside due to Ethan''s concussive blasts. Most important was the pod¡¯s tracking system. That meant we couldn¡¯t find him. He was left alone to starve to death, floating in space. I did that. I set him down a hellish path to death.

 A Jar Full of Tears

    My cell felt small. It was spacious, with a bed, sink, and a curtain to cover yourself when using the toilet. To me, though, it confined a prison. Being made of slime, I am used to tight spaces. If I abandon my clothes, there isn¡¯t a place I can¡¯t slip out of. A small crack in the wall, loose floorboard, or even a keyhole is all I need to slip out. The issue was I couldn¡¯t but shouldn¡¯t escape.

    If I ran, they might think I¡¯m guilty. Ethan knocked out the cameras and hid his tracks, so shifting the blame to me seemed logical. Especially with my odd apprentice, some crewmates were waiting for a reason to justify their discomfort and hate towards me. Though, none of that mattered to me.

    All I was focused on was what Lien would think of me. What would she say? Would my words weigh heavier than her sadness? To parents, aren¡¯t facts just circumstances surrounding the death of their child? Thats why I wanted. I hope the time in the cell will give her the space she needs to consider what I am saying.

    Then she came. After a month in the brig, I could hear her boots¡¯ heels clacking down the step. Lien prided herself on her appearance in front of the crew. It was more than a symbol of power for her, but a promise of collected control in any storm. No matter the situation, death of the crew, lost cargo, or the brink of starvation, she always presented herself the best she could. A symbol in those trying times. She is still as sharp as ever and will handle her troubles.

    She came down smelling of booze, wearing a stained T-shirt, stained captain pants, and a wrinkled jacket. She was carrying a sack of clanging glass. Her hair was a mess, and she had circles around her eyes. Others might have seen a captain losing it; I saw Lien in pain.

    ¡°Lien I¡­ I¡¯m glad you came down to visit.¡± I spoke. She didn¡¯t respond. Instead, pulling a chair right in front of my cell. She made sure to keep the barrier up. She knows I can escape at any minute, but she knows I won¡¯t.

    ¡°I want to start off by apologizing. I know the circumstances were justified, but that was your son, and it will still heart-¡±

    ¡°Justified,¡± Lien interrupts. ¡°You start your apology by justifying yourself. Ha! Maybe you are a god.¡± She says, reaching into the bag and grabbing a bottle. ¡°No, tell me, mister Justified, why was it okay to kill my only son?¡±

    ¡°I know you already know what he was up to,¡± I say in a gentle tone. She doesn¡¯t break eye contact as she takes a sip. ¡°I want to know if you knew what he was up to before that day.¡±

    ¡°I knew something was up, " she says as her eyes drift to the ceiling. I didn¡¯t know it was him. I had other suspects in mind.¡±

    ¡°Yet I¡¯m still in the cell. Yet everyone thinks I did it in cold blood.¡±

    ¡°Yet my son is still dead.¡±

    ¡°We made a promise to each other. You remember, don¡¯t you?¡± Her eyes drift from the ceiling down to me. ¡°We have each other''s back. That¡¯s why I haven¡¯t escaped. I¡­ i don¡¯t want to hurt you.¡±

    A bottle crashes by my head. Her eyes are full of rage as she stands from the chair. ¡°You already did! You inflicted a wound far greater than any foe. A wound that can never heal! You didn¡¯t need to kill him. You are strong enough to restrain him until I arrive.¡±

    ¡°There was no way of contacting you. I didn¡¯t know when you would be back.¡±

    ¡°So, his life mattered less?¡±Stolen novel; please report.

    ¡°Compared to the millions that could have died. Yes.¡±

    ¡°He would never have gone through it.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t see the look in his eyes. He was going to do it. I¡¯m not saying he wouldn¡¯t care because I believe he would, but Ethan would have still gone through with it.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you say his name?¡± She spits at me. We were silent for a moment, letting the words sink into our skin.

    ¡°Why did you give it to me?¡± I said, looking at her. She avoided my gaze as she slumped back into the chair. ¡°I never married you for the crew, the ship, none of it. I always assumed you were going to give it to Ethan.¡±

    ¡°Because you would be the perfect captain.¡± She responds by drinking a new bottle.

    ¡°I could never be one.¡±

    ¡°Now you have humility.¡± She chuckles to herself. ¡°You have all the qualities. You have a firm hand willing to make the hard choices but a gentle grip willing to cradle the crew''s problems. You are smart, strategic, and diplomacy-wise. Science and magic aren¡¯t your strong suits, but you don¡¯t need that. This way, the ship would have a captain for hundreds of years.¡±

    My eyes shake as I stand up when she says that. ¡°You know?¡±

    ¡°I had my suspicions, yeah.¡±

    ¡°Yet you still choose me over your son.¡±

    ¡°You saw how he reacted to not getting the ship. Deep down, I knew he would do anything for power, even kill this crew and sink our ship if he wanted badly. That not a captain to me.¡±

    ¡°Then why am I in this cell? You agree with my choices and think I am the best choice for the crew. You understood how Ethan was.¡± She twitched when I said his name. It was a sign to stop, but my anger wouldn¡¯t let me. ¡°Yet I am here in this cell, waiting for you, waiting to comfort the woman I love and hopefully receive some myself because I cared for him too. We made a promise. I am your husband, your partner.¡±

    ¡°And he was my son!¡±

    Right then I realized what I said didn¡¯t matter. She doesn''t come down there to get understanding or allow me to fight for my side. She was there to grieve and release her anger. A part of me grew furious about the thought. I saved so many, but I am here receiving the punishment, but that part died quick. All I saw then was the one I love hurting. The pain I caused. I realized I needed to be more than what I was before, and all I could blame was myself. I still don¡¯t know today if that is right, but that¡¯s how I feel.

    She reached into her bag and pulled out an empty mason jar. I looked at it, and she placed it in the cell through a food tray slot.

    ¡°Get inside.¡± She said as she sat back down.

    ¡°I looked up at her, waiting for a second part of that sentence that would never come.¡±

    ¡°What if I say no?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Then we fight.¡± Her eyes stared at the jar, unable to look me in the eye. This is your punishment. You will suffer the same fate as my son. Afterwards, I will disband the crew. I will tell them the truth and how you saved millions.¡±

    ¡°As long as I get in the jar.¡±

    ¡°Thats right.¡±

    ¡°Do you still love me?¡±

    ¡°I do. I just think I¡¯m not strong enough to overcome my anger and my pain. I don¡¯t deserve to be a captain. I will, though, avenge my son.¡±

    I stood up and walked to the jar. ¡°If it would heal your pain, I would do anything for you.¡±

    ¡°Please stop.¡± She whimpered.

    ¡°I care about you over myself. I would gladly die a hundred times if it meant you get to live one good life.¡±

    ¡°Please, Cid, stop.¡± She buries her head in her face.

    ¡°If this can bring you peace, then let it. My only regret is that I had hoped we were strong enough to recover from this. I am useless and unable to help cure the wounds in both your and Ethan¡¯s hearts.¡±

    She didn¡¯t respond, instead weeping into her hands, unable to look at me.

    My clothes dropped to the ground as I slithered into the jar. Lien stepped into the cell and picked me up, tightening the lid. She didn¡¯t look at me still.

    I wish I was heard. I wish the promises we made each other would have been strong enough for my words to be heard. I wish Ethan had reached out to me before taking matters into his own hands, but that is what they are. Just wishes. To this day, I don¡¯t think I can blame Lien. She operated on what she knew. Then why, every time I think of her face, I remember Ethan¡¯s laugh. My chest swells with a pain that eats at my soul.

    She walked to the side of the ship and dropped into deep space. She didn¡¯t give me any final words, and to be honest, I don¡¯t think I could have handled any.

    There I was, drifting in space inside a jar, with my only hope being that either a passing ship would pick me up or that I would slam into one, freeing them from my punishment if I survived. At that moment I didn¡¯t feel like a god, or even like the hero. I just felt my heart breaking.

    I was just a jar filled with tears.

 Lessons And More Lessons

    Emanuel sits there, silent. I can¡¯t tell what''s running through his head. I am trying to exude an image of strength and show how I am collected in these times of panic and uncertainty. I fear my fiddling thumbs portray how I really feel. This was a time I didn¡¯t like to think about, but at night they returned to my nightmares.

    ¡°Have you looked them up? Your old crew, that is.¡± Emanuel asks.

    ¡°No. I think it¡¯s best for them if I stay far. I don¡¯t even know how long ago that was. I am not really good at telling time.¡± I respond.

    ¡°You should fix that.¡±

    ¡° I don¡¯t regret taking action,¡± I say as I look into his eyes. My sudden steadiness takes Emanuel aback. ¡°But I don¡¯t relish the thought. I remember every name on that ship and every delivery we made. That¡¯s why I¡¯m a bit disheartened by your training results so far.¡±

    I point at the two batons ¡°One of your strengths gives you the level of control I have. You¡¯re other¡­¡± My eyes move from the batons to the twin tube pistoles. ¡°The other leaves you little room for such flexibility. ¡°

    Emanuel''s response to this shook me to my core.

    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be the first life we took.¡± He says with his eyes staring at his hands. His words cut the air, and my mind was forced to remember Crimson. I took the burden of his death on myself. I never once thought Emanuel would blame himself.

    ¡°That is on me.¡± I rush out, trying to redirect his pain.

    ¡°I built the trap.¡±

    ¡°I take responsibility.¡±

    ¡°So do I. He deserved it.¡± Emanuel¡¯s words don¡¯t waver, but he can''t hide his true feelings no matter how tough he tries to act. Tears form at the edges of his eyes as he grips his pant legs tighter. ¡°If I could go back in time, I don¡¯t think I would have done it differently. It was to save your life. It was¡­to save my life.¡±

    My body went cold when he said that. One so young speaking of death¡¯s domain with such ease. My mind filled them with ways I could help him not become a blood-crazed killer.

    ¡°I vomited when I saw his hand.¡± Emanuel continues to say. ¡°The smell of burnt fleshed is singed into my brain, but it wasn¡¯t the first time I smelt it. I still hate it. I hope I continue to hate it. If someone comes for my life, I won¡¯t hold myself back, but I won¡¯t make that my first choice.

    ¡°All life is precious. I wouldn¡¯t make my choices if I didn¡¯t believe that.¡±

    ¡°Then when do we decide to kill?¡± He asks.

    ¡°There is no one-for-one rule. Most of the time, it''s truly a case-by-case basis, and even then, the individual''s ideals, morality, and beliefs all play a factor. However, if I had to give a rule. It is ok when it''s for your personal survival when you have no other choice, or if letting them live means the extinguishing of other lives.¡±

    ¡°We should protect all life,¡± Emanuel says to himself.

    ¡°Including our own. Please don¡¯t lose sight that our goal is to escape the bloodshed while shedding the least amount of blood.¡±

    ¡°All life is precious.¡±

    ¡°We should protect it at all costs.¡±

    Emanuel stands, holding a baton in one hand and a tube pistol in another. ¡°Including our own. I will carry both weapons, as I will hold the stick to defend, but I will keep my hand on my pistol.¡±Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    I hope I said the right thing. I don¡¯t know how others give advice and not worry if their words alter the course of someone''s life. How do they know if this is for the better or not?

    We continue our training, focusing on both styles, which leads to lesson three of ¡°Cid¡¯s Perfect Training Plan.¡± The third is to break down their weaknesses. I looked for gaps in his fighting and in his character.

    One¡¯s habits in life will always bleed into our work, even if we pretend they are unrelated. His anxious behavior, coupled with his impatience, creates a ¡°rush first and react approach.¡± It doesn¡¯t help that he has some innate talent with magic. I feel bad for him as his true skills lie in spellcasting, but the time it would take for me to teach him the arcane arts is one we can¡¯t afford. If he had a magic tutor, that would be different.

    So I came up with a plan. I ventured out of the woods and back into the city. I was wearing my go-to disguise gear: a tattered cloak, a full-face mask, and a secondary mask. I also had long rubber gloves that stretched past my forearm. The goal was to cover as much bright orange slime as possible.

    I made it to a small bookstore on the corner of the city. Inside is a mirage of books, some not even in the local library, from history to cooking and, most importantly, magic. I asked the shop owner what books would be necessary for a child to learn the basics of magic. She ran through the whole shop, pointing out books focusing on the basics to tomes of advanced spells. With a twinkle in her eye, she asks what I will be purchasing, hoping it will be a big payday.

    None.

    I can see the glimmer in her eye get snuffed out as it dawns on her that she wasted the last three hours reviewing the entire catalog for nothing. I will leave with zero books because I have zero cash flow. Instead, I thanked her for her time and wandered out before new customers entered.

    I returned that night and snuck into her shop. I loaded up a bag I had on the outside with all the best books she recommended. Of course, I left her something: a thirty-page letter explaining why it was important I stole these books and how she contributed to the growth of a struggling boy and a God. It was thirty pages long because my handwriting is big, not because I wrote a lot. Emanuel calls it a waste of paper.

    With the books in his hand, he began studying spellwork. I focused on my own training. Emanuel tried to get me to learn, but I ignored him and said he could explain it to me later.

    This gave him an ego.

    The first spells he learned were basic spells, which are common to most seasoned fighters. This spell acts as a small, protective, invisible layer of skin over the body made of the Source. It can block knives and bullets. Though a trained warrior worth their salt knows to use their weapons and fuse with Source to try to break through the second skin, whoever is stronger has the advantage of most parts. In his current state, he can block on bullet coated in the Source or take fifteen to twenty regulars before the skin breaks.

    This fuels his mentality to jump in and think second. So, how do I break this habit? By breaking him. I mean, almost breaking him. Through a combination of surprise attacks where I hid in bushes and launched a fist at him, surprise landslides and the occasional wild root booter in his nap sack will remind him he is vulnerable.

    <b>Fun Fact:</b>

    A Root Booter is a tube-shaped rodent about a foot long. It has a barbed tail and lives at the roots of trees. They are insanely cute and delicious.

    Were these tools ideal? No, but they were all I had. We could steal, borrow, and accept unknowing donations for so long. Still, it was worth it when I was in a bush and fired out four arms with a non-crystalline fist at Emanuel. He ducked the first and danced around the other two with the grace of a dog walking bipedally on its hind legs. Instead of charging the bush, he waited.

    Now, there is a secret fourth step. The most important of them all, in my opinion.

    Repeat it all.

    Your fundamentals are the core of everything you learn, and they can always use work. You are always improving. You need evolve your good skills into amazing, and don¡¯t settle for amazing. Those skills can be pushed even further. Weaknesses appear with every strength, so make sure you don¡¯t believe you have no gaps because all you are doing is making it easier for you to fall.

    We repeated this only one more cycle. What seemed like a few weeks was closer to a year, and Emanuel¡¯s patience was wearing thin¡ªreasonably so.

    Still, we need at least two more cycles until I feel he is ready to tackle the docks. He argues he is ready, but all I can think of is Crimson''s blade slicing me and making its way to Emanuel. We don¡¯t know who Crane has hired to replace him. I rather not take the risk. Though, I can¡¯t shake this feeling. It¡¯s similar to how I felt when I reached into the Life Vien. A similar energy is growing in the woods. Larger by the day. A feeling of being hunted down as a mysterious force tries to lock on my location.

    Maybe it would be best if we rushed out?

 Fiend

    I felt a stare piercing the back of my head, emitting the same energy as when I stuck my hand in the Life Vien, but this one was weak. No, a more accurate way of putting it is that the energy felt smaller.

    I focus on this feeling, trying to gauge if this is a threat. Then, whatever is staring at me moves deeper into the bushes. For a moment, I forget I am training with Emanuel and hit one of his batons too hard, sending it flying toward the bush.

    When we retrieved the stick, we encountered a group of Root Booters circling another one.  It was ten versus one.  The one being surrounded looked different from the others.  His fur was sliver with black stripes stretched vertically down his body, from his nose to the tip of his tail. Another difference is his eyes. They are a bright purple rather than the pitch black of his kind.

    Red streaks painted his silver fur as blood dripped from fresh cuts and bite marks on his body. He has done his own damage as two other Root booters lay on the ground gasping from the air, as their blood drips from silver¡¯s teeth and tail.

    One charged at the silver root booter, his mouth wide and aimed at his neck. A slime tentacle wrapped around the leaping Root Booter and I  fling him beyond the bushes. This was all Emanuel needed for him to leap in and start swinging with a stick. The silver one took advantage of the chaos and jumped on one of them, and with that, we chased them back into the forest.

    I had to stop the silver one from finishing the two already defeated root botters. Instead, I let their friends take them away. No one needs to die today, and hopefully, the message not to mess with the silver one will land harder, showing the results of the battle.

    I know Gods are not supposed to pick favorites, but I couldn¡¯t stand there and watch an innocent creature get murdered. It¡¯s commonplace for creatures to eliminate what they consider odd and different in the animal kingdom. His fur didn''t match the others, his tail was bigger and spiked with quilts as thick as thorns, and his eyes were all marks of death to his other species. Yes, persecution because they are different is commonplace in all species, but it doesn¡¯t make it right. Thats something we learned long before we stepped outside our home. Well, I hope that is.

    The silver Root Booter crawled towards death¡¯s feet, but he was still ready to fight. We slowly crept closer, calling to him as he growled and barked at us. It was adorable. He had these sharp little teeth, and his bark was a squeak that was higher pitch than the others.

    While he was distracted, a line of slime snuck behind him and scooped him up. I left his head free, but the rest of him frantically paddled in a goo bubble connected to the slime line. He needs his wounds treated, but he won''t come patiently. I wouldn¡¯t waste my time talking to him when I can trap in a bubble.

    His wounds were many, but his scars under the fur rivaled the fish in the sea. Once treated, he leaves, but in a few hours when we are cooking some fish, he comes sniffing from the bushes. Emanuel breaks a piece of fish and tosses it to him. The silver-furred fiend sniffs out the food and snatches it back to the bushes. After a couple of meals, his spiked tail lowers, and he sits beside us. While making breakfast, I found him sleeping on Emanuel¡¯s chest in the morning. It was a sweet sight I wish to keep with me.

    I noticed patches of his fur never grew back, permanently revealing his scarred grey skin. The silver root booter became my vital assistant coach as Emanuel''s training progressed. Providing moral support, a guide through the forest, and would fetch bottles when I would forget to water Emanuel.

    With him joining our camp, it came time to name our friend. Emanuel fires out a ton of names. Silver is too obvious. Thorn is too obvious. Baltrix Con Strevon is too obscure. I suggested Fiend, and his ears perked. It looked like he made his own dissection, so I welcomed Fiend to the team.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    I remember a night when Emanuel was knocked out in the tent because he pushed himself too hard training in the two-stick style.

    His name, not mine.

    I was staring into the stars, enjoying the moment of peace. Fiend developed the habit of swimming in my body, which is¡­ not my favorite.  I pushed him out whenever he went inside, but Fiend treated it like a game. He would try to see how fast he could hop in and see how long he could stay in before getting shot out.

    He did that for an hour until the moon dusted off the clouds in front of her and blessed us with her light. Thebeams shined down on us as we felt the nighttime breeze. Fiend became a part of us, a member of the deranged family. He wasn¡¯t a mascot we would show off but a functional team member.

    I was napping in the tent as usual in the early afternoon. Throughout the time, I was still recovering from my fight with Crimson. I was close to my full size and began taking mid-day naps to speed up the recovery. We weren¡¯t blessed with a bountiful feast, only scaping by the food we hunted and the small batches we could steal. Food is really the main factor in how fast I can heal. So the less food I eat, the longer I need to sleep, but I don¡¯t want to leave Emanuel alone longer than he already has, so these mid-day naps will have to do.

    Emanuel was in the forest training with Fiend. His training was focused on movement and danger prediction. Fiend would run forward with a piece of cloth tied around his tail. Emanuel needed to grab the cloth without hurting himself on the spike on Fiend''s tail. The rootbooter an elusive little guy, so the task was much harder than Emanuel expected.

    Emanuel would run and have to rely on his instincts to avoid holes, doge branches, and any animal passing by. Some may think, ¡°I am sorry, oh great CID, but this seems normal. What godly wisdom are we missing?¡±

    First, never apologize for not knowing something. We are never expected to know everything.

    Secondly, there is a critical rule to this training. He can never break pace. Slowing down is not an option. If he speeds up, he must maintain that speed the entire time. It''s endurance training, and it emphasizes attention to surroundings while focused on a single target.

    Thirdly, yes, I am a genius.

    His pace was steady but quick, according to what I normally have seen.  I wasn¡¯t worried about them being alone as I devised a genius plan. To make sure I knew where they were in the forest, I made a bracelet made of crystalized slime for both of them. This way, I can both find them,  they can talk to it, and I can hear them. A slime two-way communicator.

    I would soon find out they were deep in the forest when Emanuel noticed they weren¡¯t the only ones running. Behind them were the Root Booters that attacked Fiend when we first met him.

    They began to lunge at Emanuel and Fiend. The root booters are clever creatures. They attack in groups and divide their enimies attention. When they work together, they can take down prey ten times their size.

    That is if their prey was average. Unfortunately, after months of training, they were up against Emanuel and Fiend. They began their counterattack without slowing down, as that would break the rules.

    Emanuel would describe it as an action-packed, choreographed game of cat and mouse. He swung his sticks at the attacking leaping rodents, but Fiend never left his vision. He would leap and bat anyone in his way as he reached for Fiend''s tail.

    Fiend, on the other hand, grows fast and strong with time. His tail slap could knock a grown man out before he joined us, but now he can crush a Solar Sails door. Chalk that up to my divine wisdom. Well, 10 percent is wisdom, and 90 percent is his own hard work and dedication.

    The number of Root Booters grew, but all that added to the intensity of their game. They maneuvered through the trees with ease.

    Root Booters are clever. They concocted another plan once they saw they had no chance to win. The movements were deliberate, pushing Emanuel and Fiend toward a specific direction in the forest.

    They were forced into a clearing downhill surrounded by a crown of trees. In the entrance was a pool of thick purple water. The Root Booters scattered, never allowing anyone to enter the ring.

    I jolted awake once I felt my slime enter that clearing.

    The grass was greener there, and the trees were taller, as if racing to see who could touch the clouds first. The flowers were vibrant, and tiny streams of thick purple were scattered around the ground, all leading to the small end of thick purple liquid in a small pond. The air reeked of rotting flesh.

    I always avoided this place and told Emanuel never to go there, but clever woodland creatures tricked them. This is where I would feel that presence growing in the forest.

    Sloshing purple liquid filled the grass field as s

 Grul

    Purple poured over the beast as it rose from the pond.  The ground shook with every step, and the sun hid behind the creature''s head as it dared not look the monster in its face.

    Emanuel grabbed the crystalized bracelet and started to describe the creature to me.  He painted an accurate picture.  This creature was called a Grul.  They are two feet tall and can walk bipedally but mainly use all six appendages.  It has large claws on all six, deep silver fur, and hard rock-like scales on its back.  That is a regular Grul, and this is far from average.

    All this did was motivate me to move faster.  I morphed my body and stretched to grab the branches and swing myself further into the woods.  I could hear the roar of the beast from where I was.  Through the connection of slime, I heard the slamming of his metal buttons, Emanuel''s grunts and yells, and even the deep squeaks of Fiend as they struggled to survive.  Then, as I got closer, BANG, BANG, BANG!

    Three shots are fired.  The forest goes silent, but I keep moving.  I hoped that did the job when another roar of the beast shook the forest and rattled any animal in a ten-mile radius.  I am still too far.  I know what I must do, but this move is still untested, like the contraption, but it is our only chance.

    A while ago, I noticed the shape of Emanuel¡¯s family shield and remembered my fight with Crimson.  It is long and pointed like an arrowhead.  This led to a moment of divine inspiration.  With hours of tedious work, I was able to chisel two holes through the shield.  I used my slime to enter the holes and search for any cracks that I intently made that could affect the structural integrity of the shield.  I reinforced it with detached crystalized slime.

    Next, I poked holes into a small rectangular box.  I attached the box with threads of crystalized slime and a glop of it on the back for added security.  Now, my newest genius innovation is complete.  What I am about to do is practice only a handful of times for short distances.  This will be my first time traveling long distances and in a high-pressure situation.

    I morphed my body into a new shape. My arms semi-solidified, becoming a thick and tense rope. Portions crystalized for stability, while the two long portions attached to the rope stayed flexible. People would recognize this form as a barista or a big bow and arrow. I call this form Fast Travel.

    The shield is attached to the rope, acting as my arrow. I aim at the sky, where I sense my crystalized slime on Emanuel. I let my roop arms loosen and fire the shield. The tree rustles, and the winds rip apart as the shield soars through the sky like a cannon.

    Attached to the box is a long, stretched-out portion of my slime.  I liquify my body and pull myself through the top of the slime with my clothes as fast as i can.  The shield soars through the sky, and in a second, my full slime travels through the connection and enters the box on the shield through the holes.  I keep the clothes on the outside, holding on to them with slime from the hols.  Now, I can travel safely in this box at high speed.

    I still need practice, as the entry into the box was too hard and shook the flying shield.  This knocked it off course, and I crashed landed on the edge of the clearing.  I oozed out of the box and took form with my clothes on and the shield attached to the slim on my back.  I look up to see Emanuel bleeding from a gash on his arm and Fiend hissing at the monster.  Both were covered in dirt and Emanuel¡¯s blood.

    This Grul is 10 feet tall.  The scales on its back were 4 inches thicker but more spaced out, with cracks separating them like a river to a valley.  Its eyes were a deep violet.  The claws resembled stalagmites from a forgotten cave.  Staring at it would send the bravest warrior sprinting out of the woods and becoming a mail clerk.  I am no warrior.  I need to be more.  No matter how terrified I was, I could not abandon Emanuel and Fiend.  So, I¡¯ll do the next best thing.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    I leapt into the arena, eyes locked on my target. Emanuel''s pupils shrunk in fear, and he was fully aware of what stretching my body wide in the sky meant. Fiend, on the other hand, stretched out his arms, ready to accept what needed to be done.

    I swallowed both him and Fiend into my body, formed my six-legged Taxi Crawler form, and sprinted to the outer ring.  Fiend was cuddled comfortably inside, and Emanuel has become accustomed to being a passenger in the taxi service.

    What I wasn¡¯t prepared for was how fast the Grul is as I was a few feet away from reentering the forest, when the Grul slams into my side and sends me bouncing on the dirt. Back to the center of the clearing.

    My body absorbed most of the damage, with Fiend and Emanuel taking some hits.  Before I could get up, the best claws were aimed at my expanded body.  I pushed both of the boys out of my body before the Grul could stab them.  The claws hit me, removing some of my mass, but I countered with two crystalized fist hits, connecting with its face.

    Nothing, not even a crack on the check, a flinch, or even a blink.  Instead, his jaw is wide open and over my head.  My body was loosened, and I slivered under it before its jaws shut on my head.  Escape was still the main objective, but we couldn¡¯t run out with its speed.  We had to fight it to make an opportunity.

    He swings right away, but I am ready.  A hand pops out of my back and grabs my shield.  The go hand pulls the shield across my back, to my shoulder, and down my arm until the hand fuses with my left hand, bringing my shield up, ready to block his hit.

    Emanuel was too hurt and unprepared for this, so I needed to take charge and fight for us.  The Grul is fast, but I¡¯m quicker.  I slide toward him, using the shield to block any incoming hits.  I learned to keep my body semi-liquid, which allowed me to move around his attacks.  The drawback was my inability to land a hit with great force.  It felt like swatting the side of a Solar Sail with a paper fan.

    ¡°Stay back,¡± I say to Emanuel and Fiend.  ¡°Remember your training.  Look for an opening, a blind spot.  Once you see, take Fiend out of the clearing.  Don¡¯t look back, and don¡¯t worry about the Grul attacking you.  I won¡¯t let it touch you.¡±

    ¡°I can fight.¡± He says with determination in his eyes.

    ¡°You won¡¯t win.  Don¡¯t fight, don¡¯t help.¡± I reply with stern words.

    ¡°But I can fight.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t help, run.¡±

    ¡°What was my training for if I am not supposed to fight?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t help.¡± He clenches his fist in anger, but I stand by my words.  During the fight, I shift between semi-slime and crystals as the Grul is too fast to go full crystals but too hard to hit him with my slime fist.  My focus was on shortening the time it takes to harden and increasing the strength of each hit.  With every time I can¡¯t hit with my fist, a good shield bash can do the trick, I hope.

    The Grul would swing at me with blows, and my eyes could only make out the hit a second before it could connect. I would raise the shield, and it would take the hit, but the impact rippled through my body and sent me sliding back.

    My mind was focused on the beast, and a fear haunted the back of my mind.  I don¡¯t believe my words were enough to restrain Emanuel.  ¡°Don¡¯t help¡± are clear instructions, but clarity wasn¡¯t the issue.  Of course, they would be ignored.  Of course, he had something to prove to himself or me, and of course, he JUMPS BACK INTO THE FIGHT.

    Emanuel aimed at the suspected joints.  While sliding under the Grul, I noticed the scales didn¡¯t cover its underbelly.  A yells this at Emanuel, who runs in without thinking.  He didn¡¯t notice the claw over his head as his eyes were on the monster¡¯s suspected soft spot.  Then he felt a pressure in his stomach and was sent flying back across the grass, out of reach for the claws.

    I watched Emanuel safe from harm because the Fiend jumped off his shoulder, struck his stomach, and sent him flying back, Leaving the Fiend in the path of claws.

    Fiend let out a painful squeal as two claws pierced his body.  The Grul shook Fiend of its claw with haste, giving as much importance as dirt on his nails.  I stared at this beast and thought, ¡° He didn¡¯t know Fiend was even in this fight.  To it, both Emanuel and myself are the true threats.  Fiend was as important as a leaf falling to the ground.

    I catch his body as I move my shield around my body and onto my back, blocking the swipe to it.

    My body crazes on the floor.  Emmanuel struggles to run from the beast.  He didn¡¯t scream for help.  All Emanuel screamed for was how Fiend was doing.  Blood covered his fur, his eyes were shut, and no air escaped his mouth.  I feel no thump in his chest.  I don¡¯t have the heart to tell Emanuel Fiend is already dead.

 A Thunderstorm In The Brain

    In my hands lay Fiend dead. I don¡¯t have the heart to abandon his body, so I place him in my chest. Yes, it is disgusting, but I didn¡¯t think of carrying a backpack when I ran over here. Now isn¡¯t the time for hesitation, it''s for movement.

    I sprinted to Emanuel and scooped him in my arm, giving my back with the shield to the beast. A treat he was happy to take as his claws swiped my back. The reverberation flows through my body and shakes Emanuel in my arms.

    It''s here, Emanuel sees Fiend floating in my chest.

    ¡°Fiend, wake up. We have to escape.¡± Emanuel says. Fiend''s eyes remain closed. ¡°Fiend, please.¡± He whimpers out. ¡°Please don¡¯t be dead.¡±

    I hardened my back in hopes of cushioning any extra hit. Energy sparks from the crystalized chunks of my back fly off after his next hit. Hunks of hardened slime slam into the dirt, and i swear i could see blades of grass grown an inch where pieces of my backland.

    I run to the tree line. My mind tunnels as I hear Emanuel¡¯s soft cries. We lost someone, and I couldn¡¯t do anything. we are running for our lives again. It''s not the running I feel shame for, but the inability to to save another life. How do I declare to be a god when one of my friends dies in front of me. More than one, many. If I am not focused, another will be added to the list.

    My body grows hotter and hotter as I rush. I can feel my heartbeat in my chest. It pounds faster and faster and faster. Then I remember I don¡¯t have a heart. I could feel Emanuel''s blood drip on my hands, the breath on my chest as he heaved in pain, and the tears in his eyes as he cried for Fiend, but not his heartbeat.

    It''s faint, but it builds and builds. Growing faster and faster. I feel the Source in the air filter through my slime as normal, altering it to take my own unique signature, but another power draws the Source deeper into me. It feels the same as the Life Vien. An unimaginable force mixing with my own power. The beating grows faster and faster until I hear it. A familiar squeak. It called to me as our signal to launch him in the air when we played. One of my eyes lowered into my stomach, and I saw Fiend staring at me.

    I watch his body repair itself. Streams of his blood reached out to my goo, and once connected, his blood glows a bright purple. His blood would multiply and return to his body to repair his wounds. I grow a few centimeters shorter from all this, but that is a price I would pay one hundred times over if it means this continues to happen. I felt moments before Fiend¡¯s heart was still, and his brain was barren of electrical charge, but now it beat like a war drum, and his mind was a lightning storm.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    I detach part of my hand and throw Emanuel as far as I can toward the outer rim. My hand expanded into an airbag and broke his fall. With my hand regrown, I turn to the charging Grul. I hear the squeak once more, and I focus my sights on the Gru¡¯s body. I launch Fiend out of my chest at the unexpected monster.

    Fiend¡¯s tail wasn¡¯t spiked, but purple and orange crystal stalactites. With all his force, Fiend slammed his tail on his shell. The force of the impact shocked both the Grul and myself. The boom from the attack reverberates in the forest, followed by a thin cracking sound. I could see a thin line on the Grul¡¯s shell. He cracked him, and FIEND CRACKED HIS BACK. A plan formed at that instant, and we rushed in without exchanging words as if we had shared our thoughts.

    Fiend and I formed a rhythm. He runs back and jumps into my body. I will use the shield to block the incoming hit. I launch Fiend high in the air. While the Grul¡¯s eyes are on him. I fire our crystalized fist at his face. This stuns him, leaving room for Fiend to fly down and slam his tail on the Grul¡¯s back. Not just any spot, the same spot as before. In a split second, I always aim where I believe the crack will be, so all Fiend has to worry about is hitting hard.

    This cycle continues and continues. Launch. Slam. Punch. Crack. Launch. Slam. Punch. Crack. Crack, CRACK! The beast flinches with every passing rotation, then falls for our trap. I fire Fiend once more in the air. The Grul is prepared, and instead of focusing on my punch, it tells its body to preempt to avoid Fiend''s tail. What I wasn¡¯t prepared for was waiting for this moment.

    I slither, and the Grul. I condense the slime in my arms. My hands melt onto the back of the shield, hardening and fusing with it. Like the trick I use to create pressure and tension when I make a bullet out of my body, I do it with my arms and this shield. I fire out my arms, using the shield as a battering ram, and fire at the tilted side of the Grul.

    The sheer force of the blow sends the Grul tilting back, but it''s not enough. The Fiend slams down on his head, hoping to push him over the edge, but it''s still not enough. Before he can plant his feet on the ground, I test Fast Travel again. I don¡¯t have time to form my big ballista form, so I turn my arms into enormous bows and strings. I pull back on the shield and fire.

    The Grul doesn¡¯t have time to react as the shield hits his side, but I¡¯m not done; he needs to fall. I pop out of the box on the shield and form six crystalized hands. i unload a parage of hits not even a second after the shield impact and provide the remaining force needed to tilt the Grul on its back.

    The Grul tossed and thrashed, trying to flip itself up. With every turn, a crack was heard. The shell took more damage, and it knew. The beast stopped moving and stayed on its back. The fleeing hope had left his eyes vacant.

 A Heavy Rope

    The battle is over, and the Grul lies on its back, looking to the sky. Fiend lunges at the beast, filled with rage and pain. Before he can land a lethal blow, I grab him. He squirms in my hands, clawing the air toward the creature as I struggle to get Fiend in my chest. He gives in and stays in my chest, confused as to why I am stopping him.

    My chest has a little hole I formed so that he can breathe, but I don¡¯t know if he needs to. He came back from the dead, so he needed air. He is still breathing, and I feel his heartbeat. I don¡¯t need an answer. The only way to test it is to put his life at risk, and I won¡¯t. A mere second ago, he was dead, killed by the beast. Fiend swims up to my hand. We stare at each other¡¯s eyes, and at that moment, Fiend gives in, swims through my arm, and fires out my back to sprint toward Emanuel. One eye was focused on Emanuel, and the other was scouring the land.

    Emanuel''s eyes were filled with pain, their hands filled with blood, and their throat was dry, and he was unable to say what he wanted to. I place my arm on his shoulder and nod. He rushed to hug me where his tears mixed with my goo.

    ¡°You¡¯re safe,¡± I reassure him.

    I let him cry for a while. One reason is that he needs this out of everything that happened in the last few minutes. The other reason is that my other eye was still scanning the area until I found what I was looking for. When Emanuel left for training, he had his satchel full of basic survival supplies in case he got lost, and for some reason, I couldn¡¯t track him through my slime bracelet. Luckily, it landed at the base of a tree. I recovered it and looked inside. From it, I pulled out my long rope. I tied one end around a tree, and the other I took back into the pit.

    The Grul''s eyes locked on me. It thrashed about, expecting the worst. I stretched my arms and tied the rope around its foot. This was not easy, as it continued to resist. To it, the fight was restarting. Once tied, I left the pit and headed back to Emanuel. I grabbed the end of the rope and pulled with all my strength.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Emanuel says with a shaking voice.

    ¡°Flipping it back over,¡± I respond, continuing to pull the rope. God, that thing was heavy.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°It tried to kill us. It killed Fiend!¡±

    ¡°It was defending its home and were out of the pit. Why does it need to die?¡±

    ¡°He killed Fiend. Why aren¡¯t you mad?¡±

    ¡°I am mad! I thought he was dead and I was prepared to kill that creature. Of course, I am mad at it. I am also mad at you!¡± My voice shakes the ground. Emanuel steps back, his lip quivering and words tremble.

    ¡°Why are you¡­mad at¡­me.¡±

    Anger swells inside me as Fiend hides behind Emanuel''s shoulder. I can feel my slime boil. During the fight, I saw it. In my mind, I saw the shield bashing through the Grul. If it didn¡¯t, I could have kept punching it over and over. It was a vivid movie or planned thought; it was worse. It was instinctual. The cognitive thought was to pull away. To show mercy. That requires repeating over and over in my head. It needs to overpower the pain anger, anger, and bloodlust for revenge.

    I am a god, one who needs to show mercy, but this rope in my hand is heavy. It takes so much of my will to get my arms to move. I can leave it on its back, but I shouldn¡¯t, right? No matter what happens, I need to repeat myself and show mercy. If Emanuel were telling me this story, I would want him to do it. Be the better person. He is a kid, though, so I need to be better. However, how do I stop myself from being angry?

    ¡°You ran into here when i told you to stay out,¡± I say to him.

    ¡°I was being chased by the Root Booters that attacked Fiend,¡± he says. I know, and that¡¯s valid.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. What¡¯s the point of all the trading if woodland animals can manor you.¡± I say, knowing it is wrong to do so, but the rope is heavy.

    ¡°You can¡¯t blame me for this. We were attacked.¡± He¡¯s right again.

    ¡°You know there were other options. It was you who chose.¡±

    Fiend squeak from inside my chest. He stares at me with his anger shifting toward me. I look down to see Emanuel holding back tears. His anger is dwarfed by the sorrow painted on him.

    I turn to the rope, and with one last pull, I flip the Grul over from his back. All three of us stare at it in silence, waiting for one person to make a move, but neither of us did.

    The Grul turned its back to us and limped back to the pool of deep purple. It soaks its wounds in the viscous purple before submerging itself.

    I can feel the eyes of the Root Booters surrounding us. With Fiend''s ears perked, he notices them, too. Yet again, no one makes a move. It makes sense. They were afraid to even come near this clearing, and we just beat the source of their fear, usurping it and taking the crown as the king of the forests.

    I expected that at this point, Emanuel would break into a rant about how either a god becoming a king is a demotion in title or how we are the strongest ever to set foot on this dirt.

    He didn¡¯t. On the entire walk back, Emanuel didn¡¯t say a single word. I thought he would talk about when we reached the campsite, but he didn¡¯t.

    Emanuel didn¡¯t talk to me for the whole night.

 Silence

    Three days pass, and Emanuel still hasn¡¯t said anything to me. Besides  the occasional ¡°I''m going to train¡± or ¡°thank you for the food.¡± Outside of that, he hasn¡¯t said anything. This isn¡¯t how it should be. I saved his life. I risked my existence to save him. From a situation he put us in. Why is it that he is mad at me after everything I did?

    Why is it that after everything he did, I''m mad at him?

    For dinner, I prepared fish. I don¡¯t think he appreciates my effort to de-scale and debone the fish to make perfect fillets, with some rice we scrambled together and red beans and potatoes in some tomato sauce. We are eating in silence, but I am determined to break it.

    ¡°So¡­ how are you feeling? Is recovery going well?¡± I ask. No response. ¡°Do the ships have food on them or the docks? I don¡¯t need it as much as you, but we should be prepared.¡±

    Emanuel spits a fish bone out of his mouth.

    ¡°We can always eat Fiend.¡± Emanuel and Fiend¡¯s eyes shoot up at me.

    ¡°What? We are not eating Fiend!¡± He shouts at me.

    ¡°I mean, he can taste good,¡± I respond as my hand covers my plate, slowly digesting the food. ¡°He might taste good. I never had undead rodents.¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t eat Fiend. He is our friend. ¡° He says clutching Fiend.

    ¡°Then what should we do for your food supplies?¡± I ask, letting him take the lead.

    "Each dock has trucks coming in with food supplies. They use these small cars to transfer the food around each port. Normally, they come straight off another Solar Sail, so it''s the freshest it can be. We can go in when it''s a supply day and take one of the cars with one of the ships.¡±

    ¡°That means security would be heightened. More eyes mean more problems. I can grab the truck, and you wait by the ship to get it prepped for takeoff. That might have to be the best plan.¡± I stand up as I''mm talking and grab seconds. I need as much food as possible to regain my size.

    ¡°Why were you mad at me¡± Emanuel¡¯s words shook. They came out impatient as if they had been stuck in his throat for ages, and he finally coughed them out. He didn¡¯t look me in the eye when he said them. What is in them that he is afraid to see?

    ¡°I¡¯ve been asking myself that very thing.¡± I start to say. ¡°The first thought I had seeing you in there was, ¡®I did it again. I lead Emanuel in danger.¡¯  I brought you to Crimson. I am the reason we are in the woods.¡±This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Emanuel interrupts. ¡°Crimson came for me. All because I attacked Crane in town. Because I couldn¡¯t finish him off. Because all I can do is hide. Even when I fight, Fiend ended up¡­¡±

    Emanuel stops himself before he can finish that thought. ¡°It''s my fault people get hurt. I guess I can see why you would be mad at me.¡± He stops again, placing his plate of food down. He holds his hands, shifting his thumb back and forth, from one to the other. His eyes stay locked on the grass.

    ¡°I get it.¡± Emanuel starts to say. ¡° I get it if you want to leave. All I do is cause pain and make you mad. Really, it''s okay. Thank you for caring about me. I-¡±

    Before he can finish that sentence, I hug him tight. ¡°Shut up,¡± I say to him. He is still shaking. ¡°You are annoying at times.¡±

    ¡°Then leave.¡± He whimpers out.

    ¡°You cause a lot of trouble and always copy what I do.¡±

    ¡°Then leave me.¡±

    ¡°You''re also funny and one of the smartest people I know.¡±

    ¡°What? Why are you saying that?¡±

    ¡°It''s my job to protect you. I won¡¯t ever abandon my little brother.¡±

    Emanuel pulls away from me. Not in anger but in disbelief. ¡°Your little¡­brother.¡±

    ¡°I made a promise to you that I intend to keep. I have heard a lot of people''s dreams, and I watched their lives end before they could reach them. Sometimes, they morph into someone not deserving of their own goals. I don¡¯t want that for you. The greatest joy in my life will be sitting next to you and eating a piece of cake you make me in your bakery. ¡°

    I look at him at his eye level when I say the next line. ¡°A god should not make judgments in anger as it clouds all other judgment. How I spoke to you is wrong. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°Emanuel collects himself before speaking. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I put our lives at risk. I need to be a better brother to you.¡±

    ¡°You can call me Brother God Cid if you like,¡± I respond glowingly.

    ¡°I will never in my life. You''re not even a god.¡± He spits back at me.

    ¡°I am a god!¡±

    "You almost got killed by a Grul. What god lets that happen?¡±

    ¡°Did you see how big it was?¡± I shout back. The first critter groaned in despair as the silent nights were gone, and Emanuel and I talked the whole night.

    Three weeks passed then. I went back to the spot where we fought the Grul. He has been recovering quickly. As an apology for stepping into his domain, I offered him a big piece of meat, which a butcher had unknowingly donated.

    We stared at each other. In his eye was a spark. I felt the same energy from before, but this time, it connected with me internally¡ªas if the spark in the Grul existed in me, or at least a variation. He allowed me to enter his clearing to present the food. I don¡¯t know what drawn me here, but I know that after everything, this was necessary.

    That pool of thick purple is special, but I can¡¯t put my finger on it. The purple is as thick as blood, yet this Grul baths it joyfully. I let this thought drift away as if everything went well and we wouldn¡¯t be on this rock for long.

    We packed up our bags and reviewed our plan once again. Our life in the forest is over, and in two nights, a grocery shipment will hit the docks, marking our great escape from this rock. I don¡¯t know where we three will end up once we get a Solar Sail, but I know what we need to do to get one. It is time to enact the New Plan A.

 New Plan A

    The New Plan A is technically Emanuel''s original Plan to break into the dock. This time, I sprouted it up to make it achievable. It starts with us getting to the Solar Sail Ship Docks. This part was the easiest but most tedious.

    <b>Step One</b>

    We have to¡­ walk. Thats it.

    I learned from our time in the woods or how Emanuels says, ¡°two years¡± of going back and forth, no one will stop us. I would get the occasional odd stares, disgusted looks, and terrified screams when I forgot to wear my disguise, but no one cared outside of that. It reached the point that people would even start selling us supplies near the end of our stay.

    This did not mean we could easily waltz in the middle of town toward the dock. Since Crimson never returned to Crane, I am certain that he was suspicious of our convenient disappearance. So we dawned our disguises and stuck to the shadows. Emanuel carried a backpack full of supplies as Fiend stuck to swimming in my chest.

    Whenever we needed to turn a corner, I would move my head close to the ground and slither, or Fiend would climb the building and squeak. We couldn''t understand him, but ever since his resurrection, I have understood the intention of the squeaks. They weren¡¯t words to me but more vague ideas¡ªstuff like hungry, scared, the area is clear¡ªsimple concepts.

    We travel for a while until we make it to the dock. Emanuel says it was a day I didn¡¯t notice as I was so focused on not getting caught that I was unaware the sun set and rose and set again. Either way, we made it to the outskirts of the doc. After eating the sandwiches , Emanuel got ¡°donated¡± to us, he got a nap in and we went to our next plan.

    <b>Step Two</b>

    Disguise and Infiltrate.

    I went to the docks myself. If this was a solo mission, I could have easily gotten in and out of the Docks, but the issue was getting Emanuel and Fiend in and out. Sneaking in did confirm one of my suspicions. Plastered all over the docks are wanted posters of both Emanuel and myself.

    He misspelled my name, SID, but got Emanuels perfectly. The artist went into detail with Emanuel''s portrait. Capturing his nose to the annoyed look on his face. Mine, on the other hand, looks nothing like me. It is just slime; it looks like a pudding cup the artist drew in two bobas for eyes. I thought I made a more commanding presence. The most disturbing part is the condition of the posters. Some are clean and fresh, while others are weathered with tears at the edges.

    Crane is still looking for us. I thought that sensation I¡¯ve been feeling of being hunted down would have disappeared after the Grul, but it hasn''t. I can still feel a magical energy sniffing me down. So, the next step is important.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    I found the dock worker locker room. I picked a lock, and after trying for a few minutes, I broke the lock by punching it. This isn¡¯t a random locker but one belonging to Colon Pol. He is a father of three kids who has been thrice divorced and is living with his third partner. The first, too, wasn¡¯t really his fault.

    His wife cheated on him for his boss, the dock manager. His husband after her was his manager¡¯s brother, which he started dating as revenge, but they fell in love for real. That is until he chooses family over him and their adopted kid. So, I guess you can say he chose his blood family over his current family. The third just didn''t click. I feel thats the saddest. His latest partner is sweat, and he owns a nice clothing store that frequently donates to Emanuel and me without them knowing.

    Most importantly, he is Emanuel¡¯s height and build. How do i know this? I spent some time in these air ducts before today trying to find the best-fitting uniform.

    I grabbed the clothes and a large worker''s bag. Emanuel changes clothes and looks like a genuine dock worker. He has a grey jumpsuit, a yellow baseball cap, and a large bag on his back that is far heavier than he thought. In the bag are all of our supplies, including my shield. I am tucked way in the box in my shield. I have a small slither of slime with one of my eyes attached to it pushed through an opening we left in the zipper, hidden on his shoulder to keep an eye out. To add to the disguise, Fiend is in the jumpsuit on his stomach to give him an old man''s gut. Now comes the most crucial step.

    <b>Step 3</b>

    Confidence.

    If you cannot sneak into the location and must infiltrate in broad daylight, the most critical detail you need is confidence. The person who stands out in a place is someone who feels like they don¡¯t belong. Now, no one is going to think immediately, " He¡¯s a spy! Beat him up for no other reason than he looks nervous!¡±

    That''s dumb. What will happen, though, is security walking up on you and asking questions. Even the workers will be suspicious, as they might think you are new and want to talk. The best thing you can do is go in and go out. We need to go in, and Emanuel can''t flatten his body into a puddle, so this is our best option.

    He walks around forward, pretending he is about to work another hard day. We just need to get him to his family¡¯s old hangar. I whisper in his ear to keep him calm. I reassure him that he is doing fantastic and handling everything excellently. This must be annoying, as he glared and shushed me. Then, a man calls out to us.

    ¡°Hey, you! The grey!?¡± A worker calls out to us. Emanuel freezes as the man walks up to us. I whisper what Emanuel needs to say.

    ¡°How can I help, sir?¡± Emanuel deepens his voice while using the brim of his hat to hide his face.

    ¡°We are down a pair of hands. Would you mind taking one of the grocery trucks to a Solar Sail? You won¡¯t have to stock; we just need a grey to drive the truck. Union rules and all. " the man says, looking at his clipboard.

    Today is our day! Initially, I was supposed to steal a truck once Emanuel was on the vessel, prepping for take-off. Now, we can shave a chunk of time. We grab a pair of keys from the worker and head to the truck.

    ¡°You know how to operate this?¡± I whisper to Emanuel.

    ¡°Yeah, my dad taught me about taking over the business. Out of everything he has been taught, this is one of the ones that makes sense.¡± The engine coughs when Emanuel turns the key and steers the truck to his family''s old building.

    You can always trust my three-step plans; they always turn out great. I can feel our luck turning around already.

 Cargo Delivery

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    It belonged to his father, who had a backup in the guest house. Encoded into the device is a protection spell. It prevents anyone from using it. With this, the magical security system deactivates, lowering the invisible barrier.

 I Can Fly It

    We pulled up to the Solar Sail hanger keypad. It was covered in dust except for the black center. Emanuel pulled out the key card I stole with the uniform. All grocery delivery workers have a universal key to enter any garage. How is that safe for the business? It only works when the drivers are active and supplies are delivered once a week for a few short hours. Every use is logged and checked, so it doesn''t give us secrecy. We need to move fast.

    Once inside, I see the Solar Sail. It is the largest vessel I have ever seen, which makes sense as it is meant to haul large amounts of cargo from colony to colony. The ship has escape pods and smaller Solar Sails meant for a group of six to do smaller deliveries while moving back and forth from the main ship to the colony.

    With a suspicious air, I turn my gaze to Emanuel, who already knows what I will ask.

    ¡°Yes, I can pilot it,¡± Emanuel grunts annoyed. "The ship is made with a startup piloting system for one person. All it means is it takes longer to start up, and it doesn¡¯t run at total capacity. It¡¯ll still fly, but don¡¯t expect the whole ship to be on.¡±

    ¡°I have readied many Solar Sails, but I never heard of one of this size being able to be piloted by one person,¡± I reply, still suspicious.

    ¡°Well, it''s possible because I''m me. Also, it is equipped with a ton of high-tech.¡± I continue to stare at him suspiciously. ¡°Why are you bringing this up now? Wouldn¡¯t it have been smarter to voice any concerns or potential holes in our plan at the campsite? You know I would pilot the ship before we left!¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know the ship was going to be this big!¡± I yell back.

    Fiend pops his head out from Emanuel¡¯s jumpsuit. He glares at us both and puts his tiny claw over his mouth. It doesn¡¯t take godly wisdom to understand we are yelling, and even though we are inside, that doesn¡¯t mean we are all clear.

    I turn my eye back to the ship, accepting what he says. A digital buzz rings from the truck console. A calm voice speaks to us.

    ¡°Truck number six-seven-three, please report. We are getting word that you have not yet shown up to hangar one-seven-eight, " the voice says.

    Emauel and eye stare at eachother. His pleading eyes beg for me to do the talking. I nod and speak.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°Sorry about the delay. We are on our way. We just¡­ got stuck in traffic,¡± I say as I notice Emanuel''s face goes from pleading to horrified.

    ¡°Traffic?¡± The voice responds, confused.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I say back. ¡°Some big bugs are blocking my path, and I am just¡­letting them pass. My goodness, they are slow and... legless¡±

    ¡°Honk that horn six-seven-three. I will alert the hanger of the delay, but please pick it up. We have a tight deadline.¡±

    With a click, the voice is gone, and we breathe a sigh of relief. Emmanuel pulls out a small touchpad. It was one of the few items he could run out of the guest house. This pad with a single screen acts as a remote system for the Flores Carnes companies Solar Sails. It belonged to his father, who had a backup in the guest house. Encoded into the device is a protection spell. It prevents anyone from using it. With this, the magical security system deactivates, lowering the invisible barrier.

    With a few more swipes, a side door opens meant to accept cargo on a treadmill, and metal hooks match the empty slots on the rear of the truck. Emanuel backs the car up, and with a few more swipes, the hooks attach to the slots, and the truck''s doors open. Inside the vehicle is another treadmill that slides the boxes of supplies onto the ship''s treadmill. Through a system of conveyor belts and contraptions, the supplies will be carried to cold walk-in waiting for us to then distribute ourselves through the ship. That can happen after we are far from this rock.

    That feeling from earlier, an energy hunting me down, still gnaws at the back of my head. The energy feels familiar, as if I have been face-to-face with it. Worst of all, I can feel it found me and is moving close.

    I come out of the box and form my humanoid body in my clothes. I stand entirely regenerated and at my full height. With my shield on my back, I leave Fiend with Emanuel to act as bodyguard. This is where we split up. Emanuel will head inside to start the bootup system, and I will head to the highest window and keep looking out. It won¡¯t be long until people come knocking. They either expect their cargo to be delivered to the wrong hanger, or the security guard wonders why a worker is missing clothes and an old decommissioned company is now active.

    I walk past a particular set of boxes. There is a cloth in the middleboxes with two smaller wooden crates acting as chairs. There is an empty plastic food container and a used empty mug. It''s clear this was a break spot for workers when the hangar was active, but now it''s remnants of the past. I don¡¯t want Emanuel to see this, as it might bring back old memories. He told me how his mother would take him to visit his dad at work and eat together in the hangar. She focused on quality time, ensuring her husband was never too distracted while raising two kids. I would have loved to meet them.

    I pick up the container and the mug.

    It¡¯s warm.

    I noticed a piece of paper under the plastic container. It isn¡¯t covered in stains or dust. It''s clean as if it was put there today. I put the stuff down, picked up the paper, and read it.

    <i>Always two steps ahead false god.</i>

    ¡°Cid,¡± Emanuel calls out. He is standing at a door that leads into the Solar Sail. ¡°You need to keep looking out! We don¡¯t want any surprises.¡±

    Behind him is a large knife glowing red above his head, about to plunge down.

 A Declaration Of Indifference

    Crane walks with the stride of a man who knows he controls the situation and leaves without worrying that someone will hurl a sharp shield at his head.

    ¡°Cid, wasn¡¯t it? You seem to have been living well. I mean, look at how big you are.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been living in the woods,¡± I reply deadpan.

    ¡°Right, the woods. I never cared to check there. My hope was that if you were there, a large Bathtri would eat you.¡±

    I stare back, confused by his statement. ¡°Right, you are off planet. Those are large furry creaturs with large mouths and snouts that chew through steel. That doesn¡¯t matter. We are here to talk about you have something I want.¡±

    ¡°I have no idea what your-¡±

    ¡°The kid''s in the ship,¡± Crimson cuts me off. I stare at him, annoyed he would stoop so low to snitch. ¡°He pays my bills, you don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Great,¡± Crane says gleefully. He gestures with his hand to his men to surround the ship. "Some come with me. I don¡¯t think I will need a squadron to kill a kid, but one can never be too careful.¡±

    I step in Crane¡¯s path as he stares me down. ¡°What is your obsession with Emanuel. You have his family''s business. No one on this rock will help him. You didn¡¯t even know he was still alive until a few minutes ago. Why can¡¯t you just let us leave.¡±

    ¡°Simple.¡± Crane shows no emotion as he speaks. The words roll off his lips like he lists his grocery order to his assistant. ¡°He is still alive. The job''s not done.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± I ask, stunned.

    ¡°I hate leaving loose ends. All they are is an icon of your mistakes. The worst thing a powerful person can do is let a reminder of their failure stand untested. It acts as a symbol for people to question you. It is why kings execute those who speak out and why gods burn the planet when questioned. That boy is just another reminder of how I couldn¡¯t follow through on my promise of murdering his whole bloodline. I feel like a ''god'' like you would understand this mentality.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not how a god should act,¡± I respond, standing tall.

    ¡°That is a god, and how I know your not one.¡± Crimson points to the ship, and his men march towards the door. I ran towards the closet soilder, but the entire room fired at me without hesitation. That¡¯s what I need.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Bullets wash over me. The bullets ride through my slime and line up in my arm as I hold my finger out like a gun, the bullets back at their owner. The force won¡¯t kill them, just knock them out onto the floor and out of commission.

    I move one eye to the back of my head and see a knife radiating heat an inch away from my head. I suck my head into my body. This caught Crimson off guard, but he adapted as a glowing red fist struck my body. The heat matches his blade, and I can feel my slime harden. I fire out my own fist from my side and hit his chest.

    I don¡¯t have time to think as the army fires again. I block half with the shield and inflate my hand to eat the other half. I still lose bits of slime from the impact, but I need to gather ammo. I fire back at them, but it''s not enough.

    Crane walks around his army with no urgency and smiles at me as I yell.

    ¡°Don¡¯t go near that ship you d-¡±

    Crimson takes a slice at my chest, but I move back.  I slam a fist in Crimson''s side, breaking another rib. The tide of battle is shifting in their favor, and Crimson relishes this. To him, it''s an inevitable fact I will lose. He didn¡¯t count on two things: the spirit of the desperate and the ship''s defensive systems.

    From the side of the Solar Sail, a pointed metal rod the size of a tree trunk fires out the side of the ship. The army jumps out of the way as it was aimed right at me. Crimson pushes a man out of his way to run off.

    The rod hurtles toward me, and I don¡¯t have enough time to move, so I hold the shield up. I brace for impact, but there isn¡¯t one. Instead, it floats in front of me. I now recognize what part of the ship this is.

    It¡¯s the Anchor. This part of the ship is a long cylindrical piece of metal connected to a chain. It is imbued with unique technology and a series of spells, allowing it to lock in the middle of space. An anchor is a movable object that enables the ships to lock in place in case they get too close to a gravity field.

    I figure out what is happening, hop on. The anchor retracts immediately, and I can feel a spark of electricity behind me as the anchor enters an opening. My eyes move around my head, and Crane slams his fist on a wall made of light. It''s clear Emanuel activated the ship''s defense mechanisms, and the Solar Sail now acts as an invisible magical barrier around the ship.

    They move quickly as Crimson is digging his dagger into the barrier. Steam erupts as a wall of light holds back his blade. Crane is yelling at his men and pointing to the back. All of that doesn¡¯t matter. We need to get this ship off the ground fast.

    I rush through the ship''s metal halls when Emanuel¡¯s voice erupts from the ship''s intercom.

    ¡°Left! You missed the entrance.¡± He yells.

    ¡°How would I know?¡± I shout back, turning left.

    ¡°Haven¡¯t you been on  a ton of ships?¡±

    ¡°Not every ship is the same.¡±

    ¡®Turn right, you missed it again. Read the signs!¡±

    I turn right and head down the hal. We can make it out of here; the barrier can hold. We will escape. But why do I still feel that familiar energy hunting me down over my head? My hands shake as I try to settle my nerves. We got this; I need to keep telling myself that.

 Your Job To Know

    I make it to the bridge of the ship. It is a large platform, far bigger than any i have seen in my life. This area is exposed to the outside, but plenty of protections exist. First is the barrier around the Solar Sail. Essentially, it is a giant bubble that protects the ships from outside elements and provides an artificial atmosphere. An energy barrier is normally inscribed with magical writing that infuses protection spells into the shield. This is the layer Crane and Crimson are trying to break into.

    The next is the Helm¡¯s Home, an elevated area on the bridge. This is the section where everyone in charge of operating the ship''s main functions is located. Organized in a grid system are computers and screens, each in charge of a particular function on the ship. In the center is the captain''s chair. A large adjustable chair can rocket up so the captain can see the full ship and move where needed.

    In front of the ship floating in the air is the helm. It is a large wheel that is smooth and glows with the rune inscribed on it. It is a float so that the captain can steer the ship wherever they are, and they can even choose to toss it to anyone on the ship who may be a more skilled pilot. Surrounding this area is a second barrier, one far more powerful than the outer because it only protects the Helm Home.

    As I approach the stairs, I hear Emanuel call out to me.

    ¡°Catch.¡± A small objects are flung from the Helm Home to me. I stretch my arms out, catching them, knowing what they are before they touch my slime. This is a special HH pass. They are small bracelets that we would wear so that we don¡¯t slam our faces or get electrocuted by the barrier. I let mine float in my body as all that matters is that its on me.

    I walk to the HH and find Emanuel busy in the captain¡¯s chairand feeded picking at his pass that is wrapped around him like a belt. Screens and keyboards made of light float around him as his eyes jump around. He presses one key on the floating keyboards, and another key on one of the consols is pressed in the same spot. Right then, I can see the lights on the bridge turn on. He presses a few keys on another keyboard and presses different console. I feel the soft breeze fill the bridge as the artificial atmosphere activates.

    ¡°How long until take off?¡± I ask, rushing to a console.

    ¡°I need a few more minutes,¡± Emanuel says, not breaking concentration from the screens. "From that console, you should be able to check on grocery upload.¡±

    ¡°Looks like we only got forty-five percent done before they stopped it. I think that should last us until we get out of this rock and far from Crane.¡±

    ¡°Okay, the engines are warming up. Once they are ready, we can open the roof and get out of here.¡±

    A screen on my console flashes small red dots. It''s the ship''s radar. The center white dot is us, with the tiny dots being Crane, Crimson, and his men surrounding the ship. There is a larger yellow dot beside them, and it is the vehicle with a circular saw with magic light infused in its blades. With every passing second, that saw is chipping away at our barrier. That isn¡¯t the worst news.

    Zooming out, I can see the outline of the hangar as the ship systems recognize where we are. Outside the hanger is an armada of yellow and red dots. Multitudes of what I expect as vehicles outfitted with cannons or, more like, the docks, Runaway Catchers. These are vehicles equipped with harpoons attached to a thick metal rope. These catch any ship that tries to skip town without paying their docking fees. The second we fly out of this hangar, we are doomed.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    Right then, we see a red light flash on the screen. A transmission is forcing its way through our system. It picks up, and Crane''s grin appears on our screen.

    ¡°Your next part of the plan will fail,¡±  Crane says. I look over at Emanuel. He stares at the screen, and I can feel his anger rise. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. I look down at my keyboard. The keys jiggle as if shaking fingers lay on them.

    "You say your god. If I pray for you to giver up eaisly, would you?"

    ¡°Of course you say that,¡± I respond. ¡°You don''t know that for certain, a prayer. Well, guess what? I don¡¯t care for the prayers of evil people.¡±

    ¡°Evil? I don''t care for that title.¡± Crane says, rolling his eyes.

    I hear clicking and look down. I see my keys being pressed slowly. One by one, i read them. K-E-E-P-H-I-M-T-A-L-K-I-N-G.

    ¡°It fits you so well,¡± I say, chuckling at him.

    ¡°Evil is such a singular moralistic view of it. What you see as evil, I see as business. Am I evil if I am following the path of success? The system we live in has paved the way for us.¡±

    ¡°You murdered an innocent family.¡±

    ¡°Whose business ran smaller business off this rock.¡± Emanuel stops typing when he hears Crane say that. He is still for a second but then continues.

    ¡°They didn¡¯t do that knowingly.¡±

    ¡°And you know that for certain?¡± Crane throws back at me. ¡° Is that what the boy told you. One who probably didn¡¯t even know that was happening. Isn¡¯t his family evil for stopping growth in their community, or does intention make a difference? Are they fine since they didn¡¯t mean to bring those families to poverty? Since I intended to end their reign, I¡¯m evil. As a supposed god, knowing which is which isn¡¯t your job. In your eyes, who was wrong.¡±

    The clicks of Emanuel¡¯s keys stop. I move my eye to the back of my shoulder, hoping he doesn¡¯t see me peaking. Emanuel is facing the keyboard; he doesn¡¯t dare look at me.

    ¡°I won¡¯t pretend to know their intentions,¡± I start to say. "If their actions harmed others, that is their burden to bare, intentional or not. All I do know is that they raised a great kid.¡±

    The typing resumes as Emanuel shouts at the screen.

    ¡°Listen here, Crane. I hate you.¡±

    ¡°I don''t care.¡± He says without giving a second thought.

    ¡°It¡¯s not Cid¡¯s job to judge my parents. It¡¯s my responsibility to deal with their mistakes. I don¡¯t know if that makes them evil, but everyone on this rock hates you. You reap what you sow, and the pain you caused us all will return for you.¡±

    A metal screeches above us as the rust is shaken off the opening hangar ceiling. Light pears into the dark room, shining down on our ship.

    ¡°Now, if you don¡¯t mind,¡± Emanuel says. ¡°We''re leaving?¡± A tsunami of dust and air pushes everyone in the hangar back as the ships begin to levitates, and the runs on the haul light up. The thrusters in the back hack and cough as they are finally awake for the first time in too long.

    My eyes look toward the radar. Something strange is happening.

    The yellow and red dots surrounding the hanger are moving. They are coming closer but instead moving away. Some drive away, heading toward the exit, and others head toward the center. I zoom out more on the radar and notice a large amount of dots congregate at the center or flee. From inside the hangar, I can hear cannons firing, people yelling, and vehicles driving away.

    Emanuel turns to me. ¡°What''s happening?¡± He asks.

    Then I feel it again, the eyes watching me. The sensation of a familiar haunting energy hunting me down is close. It took me so long to remember where I felt them before. I see two moons approaching us. Bristles that are a graveyard of ships. Fins and a back filled with comets and meteors that dared cross its path. The end of any vessel''s journey and the one that is rumored to be able to eat a planet.

    Heading toward the rock is a Cosmic Swaller.

 Cosmic Swaler

    Many colonies have prepared for numerous cataclysmic events. There are mystical barriers and cannons that are me to protect from incoming asteroids, debris, or invasion. If an armada comes, a signal is sent to the neighboring colony for assistance. If a radiation wave hits a colony, they have scanners that are able to predict when it will hit. They have backup generators to shelter them.

    For the event of a Cosmic Swaler, there is one plan. Make peace with death.

    Emanuel trembles at the monster¡¯s sight. Fiend jumps to Emanuel¡¯s shoulder to comfort him. This is a natural reaction. This isn¡¯t my first instance facing one, though I barely made it out alive the first time, and even then, that cost the lives of every crewmate I had. I fear this is our end, I fear death is here.

    Stop that thought now, Cid. You need to be a god right now. Emanuel and many others are hoping for something to save them. I need to be that something. I don¡¯t have time to devise a plan, so I have to go by instinct.

    ¡°The ship ready for take-off?¡± I ask Emanuel. He looks up, terrified and confused.

    ¡°Yes, but we can¡¯t escape that thing.¡± His words rattle his arms as he speaks.

    ¡°How good of a pilot are you?¡±

    He stares, uncertain of what to say.

    ¡°I need the best,¡± I continue to say. ¡°I need someone with a steady hand and  skill if my plan''s going to work.¡±

    ¡°You have a plan?¡± He asks with a glimmer of hope.

    ¡°Nope, but I¡¯m cooking one up.¡±

    Emanuel laughs as, for a split second, he lets himself forget who I was.

    ¡°That¡¯s so dumb!¡±

    Never mind, he can go back to being scared.

    ¡°Okay, you need a pilot,¡± Emanuel says, taking the center seat. He holds his hands out, and the bracket glows. The stearing wheel flies through the air and right to his hand. The ship gradually rises higher off the ground. ¡°I¡¯ll be your pilot. Let¡¯s get out of here.¡±

    ¡°We''re not leaving,¡± I say. Emanuel gives a pleading look. Both fearing and knowing what I¡¯m going to say. ¡°We can¡¯t let the people of this rock die as we run. We¡¯re going to save them. Somehow, I¡¯ll figure it out once we''re up there. ¡°

    Emanuel looks forward with a crooked smile. ¡°W e''re going to die today.

    The ship rises out of the hangar. Our shield activates as bullets fire from below. Crane still has his men focus on us instead of the ship. I notice they made a crack in our barrier a few meters wide with their saw before we took off. For a small ship, this would be devastating, but for a ship this size, it will repair itself soon enough.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    The ship flies into the hangar runway.

    ¡°Alright,¡± I say to Emanuel. ¡°Hit it!¡±

    Emanuel pushes the wheel forward, and the thruster on the back spews radiated flames. My slime spreads thin as I''m squished to the chair. Fiend grips Emanuel¡¯s shoulder for dear life as we blast forward.

    ¡°The inertia shield, the inertia shield!¡± I scream. Emanuel clicks a button while pulling up on the wheel. The force of the take-off is gone as a wave of yellow light travels through our barrier. With the inertia shields on, we don¡¯t feel the pressure of how fast we travel. The next problem is we are flying right up to the Cosmic Swaller.

    I need to test myself, even though I fear the answer. ¡°Emanuel, fly to it, but we need to get to its side, right to its eye. You think the ship can handle the gravitational pull from its eye?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll find out.¡± The thrusters burn bright as Emmanuel pushes forward.

    ¡°We just need enough space for it to see me, so don¡¯t get too close,¡± I say, staring at the cosmic horror.

    ¡°Wow, any other requests? Need me to make a coffee as I fly this?¡±

    ¡°Only if we¡¯re alive later,¡± I say before a laser blast explodes to the ship''s side. The colony below lights up as a cascade of lasers fire from below, aimed at the Cosmic Swaller.

    Emanuel swerves, avoiding the incoming fire, but it''s impossible to do it all. I watch the laser bend in space as our ship starts to move faster. It opened its mouth. The bristle sway as the Swaler begins to suck in the cosmic breeze, and the lasers shift toward its mouth, with our ship following suit.

    ¡°Emanuel, I¡¯ll reroute all power to the right thrusters,¡± I yell as I run to my console. "When I say now, make a hard turn right.¡±

    He stares at me, confused, but he nods. I form four arms and begin transferring all the ship''s powers except for life support features. Lights explode in my peripheral as lasers crash into each other as they are pulled in. The ship shakes violently, and the interim shield can barely keep us sitting straight.

    I see the gauge full, and I move my eyes to the side of my head, focused on the lasers. My finger presses the button, and the engine shuts off.

    ¡°Cid, we have a problem!¡± Emanuel shouts.

    ¡°No, we don¡¯t. Just get ready,¡± I yell back. My eyes focus on the lasers as we slow down, but the Cosmic Swaller is still pulling us in. I stare and wait as lasers slam into our barrier. I can hear Emanuel¡¯s heart beating as his eyes are focused forward. Then, a gap appears.

    ¡°NOW!¡± I shout as I hit the button. A blast rivaling any volcano erupts from the right engine as Emanuel makes a hard turn. The ship battles the gravity force, but we hit the gap out of the laser. I hit another button, and the left thrusters turned on. Using the push forward and the Swaller¡¯s gravity field, our ship slingshot free. A feat no other ship I know of has achieved.

    We make it to the side of the Cosmic Swaller. Our ship is enormous, but still nothing to this behemoth we face. Its eyes have always been focused on the colony, staring at its next meal, we all assumed. We shouldn¡¯t even register for it when faced with a buffet.

    Yet we make it to its eye, to all three of our horror. We see its eye move and looks at our ship. Starring into its pupil is staring into the void of space itself; you should feel like nothing. Emanuel grips the wheel tight as Fiend''s fur spikes up. They are not seen as they face a grand emptiness, unaware of their existence.

    I, on the other hand, feel a familiar feeling. I thought it was because Crimson was alive in the hangar, and I felt this way. The horrific, familiar feeling of being hunted down. These eyes, I¡¯ve seen them before. They crushed the ship Solace and the crew. It was never after the snack.

    This Cosmic Swaler is hunting me down.

 I Heard A Hum

    Now I know this cataclysmic event wrapped in blubber, and death is after me. My mind races to what I could have possibly done to deserve this, but I don¡¯t have time as the Cosmic Swaller''s eyes move back to the rock. Beams blast into his face as the people below fight for their lives. I can¡¯t tell if it¡¯s hurt, but I can tell it''s annoyed.

    The Swaller''s attention is no longer on me, but the flies buzzing in its face.

    ¡°What the plan?¡± Emanuel asks, terrified of whatever I respond with.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know why, but the Cosmic Swaller is after me. We need to get its attention.¡± I reply, heading to the front of the ship.

    ¡°Is it safe to say you have a plan?¡± he asks. I rock my hand side to side  in the air, signaling that I have a concept of a plan. This is a weak stance, but I have faith that he will go along.

    ¡°Just get the ship far from the colony. I got the rest.¡° He listens as I feel the ship turn as he hits the engine. I make it to the front of the vessel.

    The conflicting gravitational fields collide as the Swaller enters the colony¡¯s space. They pull on each other. The colony tilts but is winning because it is larger than the Swaller, but people are affected. The laser Fire continues, but the aim is off, as many are missing their target.

    I remember when I first felt the Swaller hunting me down. It was when I was feeling the Life Vein of the colony. Its potentess with the Source was diffrent from anything I have ever felt. Inside it was a frequency, a humming that connected to me. I felt it in my being. This hum differed from anything I had ever heard or felt, yet the second I noticed it, it felt right. It was as if this was something I had with me the whole time but never knew.

    The second thing was the connection to the universe. The hum acted as a call to everyone, and then everything responded. It was similar to how I sent my slime as a tether to the camp surroundings. This frequency connects the universe. It was first here that I felt the sensation of the Cosmic Swaller trying to find me. It was using the same method to track me down.

    Why, though? My only interaction with one was when it destroyed the ship I was on. Did I hurt one before? Maybe we entered its territory, and it''s hunting me down as the last survivor.

    Those thoughts are just distractions.  My mind shifts to whats infront of us. I focus on the hum as i know this can be how I get its attention.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    My mind melds with the universe around me. I manipulate the magical energy inside me with that memory in mind. I may not be skilled in magic, but I know how to morph my body. I remember the signal, and I let out a pulse of the Source out of my body. The Swaller doesn¡¯t react. I try again, and nothing.

    My body feels weak as I crave that energy, but morphing it and expelling it takes a lot out of me. Still, those people below continue to fight at the sight of certain death. The call needs to be bigger and louder.

    Without air, sound can¡¯t travel, but what if we use the Source to create sound waves? I can use the hum I am trying to replicate to get the Cosmic Swaller¡¯s attention.

    I reach for the universe, grabbing as many nodes of magical energy as I can. The more I pull, the more I inflate. I swallow and swallow magic. I can feel Emanuel¡¯s eyes on me as my shadow casts over him. I inflate to the five times my size, as a round ball with tiny legs and pants.

    The Source inside me is a band with every instrument playing a different song. I need to conduct them and have them replicate the hum. The Source morphs and grinds against each other until it sounds similar to the hum. It¡¯s not the same by far, but it¡¯s the closest I can muster.

    I brace my legs, and slime threads attach to the floorboards below. Staring at the Swaller, I shout so loud it shakes the entire ship.

    ¡°Do not hurt that colony!¡± My words fire out like a hundred cannons. In that moment, I feel everything. Emanuel is sitting on his chair, gripping the wheel in pain, and Fiend digs his claws into Emanuel¡¯s shoulder in fear. I feel every screw, every volt traveling the wires, every heartbeat on this ship. I feel the terror and rage in the colony and the indifference on the Swaller. That is until its eyes turn to me.

    My mind is connected to all for as long as the sound takes to travel from my voice to the Cosmic Swaller. The colony is pushed back from its gravitational pull as it tilts its body and aims at our ship.

    My body deflates as I step back. ¡°Full speed a head.¡± I let out.

    ¡°Where to?¡± Emanuel asks.

    ¡°Far away from here¡± The engine blast when I say this. I turn my arms into a bow and fire. Emanuel¡¯s eyes widened at the sight of my shield flying toward him.

    I pop out my shield filling in my clothes and landing on the deck. With in the same second a burning dagger hits the barrier protecting us from the rest of the deck. The dagger is only a second on the floor as a metal hand picks it up.

    ¡°That¡¯s cheating. I was certain you couldn¡¯t hear me.¡± Crimson says, revealing himself.

    ¡°I felt you,¡± I replied

    ¡°Neat trick, but I want to continue our rematch, fake god.¡± His dagger heats up as he grazes the barrier with the tip of the blade. ¡°Don¡¯t think this can hold me back.¡±

    With a twist of his wrist, the tip of the blade pierced the barrier. This is a terrifying feat Emanuel ignores as his eyes glance at a screen showing the rear of the ship. The Cosmic Swaller has fully turned away from the colony and is now flying toward us.

    We are caught in a trap, corned by the worst two things I want to face. My shield moves from my back to my arm.

    ¡°Fiend, stick with Emanuel.¡± He squeaks backs with a nod.

    ¡°Cid,¡± Emanuel says, balances flying the ship and working on a floating keyboard planning out potential routes. ¡°Win, and keep your promise.¡±

    I flash a thumbs up as I stare down Crimson, ready to finish our fight.

 Flying A Ship Is Hard

    <b>Through Emanuel¡¯s Eyes</b>

    According to one of the screens, the temperature inside our protective bubble has increased  5 degrees Fahrenheit. That¡¯s just from the heat of the tip of his blade piecing out the barrier.

    Cid twists his body like spring, contracting more and getting the coils close together and tight. He places the shield in front of him, and it''s clear what he is going for. His crunched body relaxes and launches his body like a missile toward Crimson. The shield rams into Crimson''s body, and they are sent flying across the deck to continue their fight.

    The Cosmic Swaller is chasing us on one of the floating screens. My hand gestures in the air, and the screen moves to the front so I can see it better. Cid trusts me to continue our plan as he handles Crimson, but I need to keep an eye on him. A small orb with a camera inside pops out of a far console. It flies into the air and follows Cid''s fight. A new screen appears, showing me everything in real-time.

    We barely made it out of our last fight. No matter how much he preaches, he¡¯s not handling this alone.

    Okay, it''s time to multitask. My mind goes to one of the many lessons my Father taught me to take over the business. I was sitting in this very chair. He hovered over me from behind. He didn¡¯t smile much, but his eyes were gentle, his tone stern but caring.

    ¡°The key to multitasking is staying in control.¡± He told me. back then ¡°Don¡¯t let your mind tunnel and clear tasks to free your mind''s bandwidth. Though that doesn''t mean stay ridged. At times you mind may wonder to another thing you need to do. That isn''t bad, but you need to push past it to something you can finish right away. What¡¯s your first task?¡±

    First, I want to ensure I am keeping pace with the Cosmic Swaller. If we are to slow, we will get caught in its gravitational pull. Then its munches us up. According to the number on screen, that beast is faster than our ship. We are fighting its speed and the gravitational pull. So wee need to pick up pace.

    I revert all non-essential energy to the engines. i then widen the sals and activate the spell woven in them. Solar sails grab on the cosmic winds in space. Dad would say they are the universe''s energy moving about. The Source swaying in space. The sails catch them like wind and push us forward. The speel in them focuses the Source to the sails. If we can''t catch a draft, we make one. We are moving so much faster now, but the Swalller is still faster. I need to find a route out of here.

    Father taught me about Pocket Hopping. Many fractures in the universe, or Pockets as people have come to call them, connect random stretches of the universe together. They act as a tunnel of light that Solar Sails can ride on and travel light years in seconds. The best part is no time distortions. Seconds stay seconds, so they are a lifesaver in cargo delivery.

    No one knows how they are made, but companies have come to map them out as they are permanent and always lead to the same location. This is one of the reasons our company has done so well. We have Pockets all around the colony, all leading to different locations.

    Pocket B-E-L 498 is our best bet. It is close by and leads far away from the colony. It was a pocket meant to lead to other pockets so the Swaller may be led far from the colony.

    ¡°First tasks are done, but that doesn¡¯t mean slow down.¡± I hear him say.

    "I wasn''t planning on it," I replied to him when he taught me this.

    "I know, you were never a slacker, but better said than not."

    "Yes, sir."

    ¡°Check on the constants while setting up for task two.¡±

    A new screen pops up, and it¡¯s of Cid and Crimson. I saw their fight earlier when we were in the hangar. Cid is strong. He claims to be a god, but he''s just a bag of slime. Credit where credit is due, Cid is one of the best fighters I have ever seen. The way he took down the mutated Grul is something I¡¯ll never forget. I don¡¯t think there is anything on the colony that he can¡¯t beat.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    He will lose to Crimson.

    That maniac is a diffrent beast. The stories about him spread far when he came to our colony. An outside mercenary, Crane hired. A man wanted by the kingdom, which explains why he took the job. Crane doesn''t have any royal title, but he has a lot of money, and now, with my family gone, trade routes. A lot of lords will strike deals with him, earning him special treatment. Keeping Crimson safe from the law and free to continue his rampage.

    Crimson slashes at Cid faster than anything Cid throws out. I don¡¯t care how many melt scratches my family''s shield gets I¡¯m glad he has it. That thick piece of metal as it is the only thing keeping him alive. Make sense as it was made for battle and used in great Sala Green War my great grandfather fought in.

    I need to find an opening to help him. I lock on to the Pocket that works best as it''s already in the ship''s database. The issue lies in the Cosmic Sealler, or rather, the effects of it traveling here. A series of floating rocks, bits of ship from its rampage, and anything unlucky enough to get caught in its gravitational pull flies with it. Sudden turns or, let¡¯s say, a ton of lasers shooting at it, dislodging these chunks of junk out of its pull.

    This has created a debris field right in the Pocket''s path. So, add dodging pieces of garbage that can damage the ship to the growing list of tasks.

    Next is calculations. The ship scans a head and creates a map of the debris field. I need to find a path to the Pocket where the ship would statically take the least amount of damage. The ship does much of the heavy lifting regarding the numbers, but I still have to feed it the right data to produce accurate calculations.

    I glance at the screen and see Cid wide open for an attack.

    ¡°Grip the floor!¡± I shout. I see slime threads pierce the deck and anchor him down. I flip the switch, turn off the inertia field, and make a hard turn.

    Crimson moves sideways. Right where Cid has a crystallized fist waiting for him, Crimson falls into the hit. I suddenly turn on the switch, sending him flying down the deck and into a wall. I flip the switch back on, and Cid already feels it. He rushes forward, trying to capitalize on the moment I handed him.

    The ship highlights the safest path on the screen. Perfect. It says we should make it to the Pocket before the Swaller can reach us. Barring anything drastic happening, we will make it out alive. I need to up our odds in any way I can. With a few clicks, I have the ship''s autopilot on, and it is headed down the route to the Pocket.

    "What risks are worth taking." I hear my Father ask. We were still running the simulation of me steering the ship.

    "The ones that get what we want," I said, assured of myself.

    "Not if it risks your life." He scolded back.

    "But If we take this route, we can make the delivery."

    "And you put your crew and, more importantly, yourself at risk."

    "But I can win."

    "I never want you risking your life like that." He kneeled down to me when he said that. "Don''t treat your life as something you can toss away. You matter more than any delivery. You matter more to me. So don''t risk it."

    He meant those words. My Father never hid his feelings, just never expressed them openly often. So that moment caught me me by surprise, but it made me happy to hear it.

    "I won''t, Father," I said to him that day. I''m sorry, Father, but I know what I need to do.

    I turned to Fiend, and he had already read my mind. We nod as I hop out of my chair and grab my batons in each hand. Fiend jumps to the tip of my Batton, and with all my force, I throw him at Crimson¡¯s back. I leap off the banister toward our foe.

    Fiend tail slams his tail into Crimson, embedding his spikes into his back. I follow up with a hit to his side, sending him stumbling.

    I land next to Cid. His body is scratched, and I see lines of burnt slime on him. Yet he still stands tall, holding the shield tight.

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be in this fight.¡± Here Cid goes, another lecture.

    ¡°You need our help,¡± I reply, holding my weapons up.

    ¡°I need you flying this ship.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine. It has autopilot?¡± When I say that, Cid glares at me. Is he really giving me that look even though this is a life-and-death situation? The ¡° I grew up Rich Rich¡± stare

    We are brought back to the moment as Crimson tries to slash up at me, but Cid pulls me back as he jumps out of the way. The bottom trim of my shirt is burnt now.

    I feel it, though. If we work together, all three of us will have a chance to beat him, even if I have to use my twin blasters.

    "Now, what''s the most important thing to keep in  mind? " my father told me as the simulation ended.

    "To never assume," I replied.

    "Correct as a universal law that never fails looms over us all. If things can get worse. It will before it can get better."

    The ship shook as something above punched a hole in our barrier and crashed into the deck. Wood splinters bounce off my protective spell as I hold Fiend, shielding him from the shockwave. Over me, blocking the major pieces of wood from impaling me, is a dome of slime.

    Two slime eyeballs pop out in front and stare at me as Cid talks.

    ¡°You okay?¡±  He asks, worried.

    ¡°We¡¯re okay. What was that? Cid returns to his regular size as we see Crimson next to an escape pod that crashed into the ship. My heart sinks as I see him helping Crane out of the ship. The second he notices us, he takes a blaster out and fires.

 Crane

    <b>Through Emanuel¡¯s Eyes</b>

    The fire spreading on the ship gave both Crane and Crimson a hellish glow. More so, Crimson looks like a demon in the surrounding the flames, welcoming a sinner to the underworld. Crane looks like something far more dangerous  He looks human and pissed off.

    The blast flies toward me, but Cid reacts in time and blocks the hit with his shield.

    ¡°You¡¯re fast slime,¡± Crane says.

    ¡°You really took an escape pod here? You are a living mess.¡± I spit at him.

    ¡°At least I¡¯m alive, a surviving member of the Flores family,¡± Crane says with a wicked smile.

    ¡°Cid, I¡¯m tired of talking. Can we just kick them off our ship?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll focus on Crimson, but I¡¯ll still cover you if needed.¡± He says while standing up straight.

    I pull out my batons as Fiends quils raise. Cid rushes forward with our shield up. Crane rains down blaster fire, but Cid twists and rams the shield with every blast. Crimson wants this as he goes to attack. Cid moves the shield, revealing me. I have two twin blasters, one aimed at Crimson, the other at a far more important target.

    I fired both blasts. The first one is Crimson doges. Right into Cid¡¯s crystal fist. The second blast hits the blaster in Crane¡¯s hand. He flinches in pain as it knocks out his fingers. I switch one of my blasters for a baton as I rush forward. Fiend runs to the end of my button, and I fling him up in the air.

    Crane pulls out a short sword from behind his cloak. A circular shield made of energy appears over his arm. I recognize it as a simple shield spell I saw from one of the books Cid stole for me. Crane holds the shield up and blocks the hit from Fiend. Sparks of magical energy surge from the impact. I take advantage and swing my baton, but he blocks it with his sword. I raise my blaster, but he kicks me in the chest. With a quick swing, he knocks the blaster out of my hand, but I recover as I hit him in the ribs.

    When I first ran to him with the knife, he out-maneuvered me with ease. I was a little kid fueled with rage, craving to see his blood on the streets. My parent''s death replayed in my head, over and over, with every sloppy slash with the knife. He kept avoiding the blade and kicking me like a frail animal, trying to snap at him. He never once needed his weapon or magic. I was small. I was untrained. I was a scared kid.

    Now, I examine his movements. I have all the endless training under Cid fueling my movements and backup. Fiend jumps down from the shield and swings his tail at Crane¡¯s face. He stepped back, avoiding the crystal barb''s full impact, but his cheek is cut. He¡¯s off balance. I need to keep pushing. I swing with my baton, hoping he would block it with his sword as Fiend jumps off my shoulder and goes for another swing, but the shield takes the impact. Perfect, I pull the other blaster out of its holster. Since it''s on the opposite side of my arm, I won¡¯t have enough time to aim it up at him, so a low shot to the foot will work.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    I see the blast hit a thin barrier around him. He has the same spell on as I do. Still, I see the top of his shoe singed, and I break the skin. I didn¡¯t notice his sword coming right for me, but before it could hit, our family shield blocked it. I see Cid¡¯s extended arm holding the shield up. It is filled with thin cuts of hardened slime. The arm stretches back as Cid avoids a blow from Crimson.

    I need to finish up here to help Cid. I look at Fiend, ¡°Like the Grul.¡± I say as I gesture with my head to Crane¡¯s injured foot. Friend nods as he scurries around my body to my back.

    I fire two shots, forcing Crane to raise his shield. I rush in, swinging with my baton, and he blocks it with his sword. Crane is out of breath, and his eyes shake. He is out of practice. We¡¯re not. Fiend jumps off my back and slams his tail right in the injured foot. The barrier weakens.

    Crane yells in pain, but I swing the button in his face before he can counter. I hear Crane¡¯s teeth crack while Fiend runs up my body. I put my blaster down and fire five shots into his foot until he could no longer stand. I knock the sword out of his hand as I watch the shield disappear. He is out of gas.

    I hold the blaster aimed at his head.

    ¡°Why did you kill my family?¡± I shout. ¡°We were never in your way. We could have made all of Resur, the whole planet even great together if we pulled our resources together.¡±

    ¡°Wait, you''re still stuck on the why?¡± Crane asks, shocked. ¡°Your family was growing too big. They had influence and power. My power. I run this rock. Your family could have taken it all away. I made sure they couldn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°You killed them to feel like you''re on top?¡± I asked, trying to wrap my head around his logic.

    ¡°Don¡¯t overthink it, kid. It''s that simple. I¡¯m in charge, no one else. If I say you can¡¯t enter my docks, you can¡¯t. If I say you can¡¯t get medicine, you can¡¯t. You wouldn¡¯t get what that means as that was your whole life.¡±

    ¡°I was a kid.¡±

    ¡°And I don¡¯t care. We both know you aren¡¯t going to pull that trigger, so stop messing around and stop this shi-¡±

    BAM!

    I pull the trigger. The flop of his body hitting the floorboards echoes in my ears. In the grand moment, I shut my eyes. I didn¡¯t see his last face or his body tilt over. I didn¡¯t want to. I open them to see Crane lying on the floor, dead.

    I turn over and vomit. The world is silent, but the sound of him falling over echoes in my head.

    Then I hear a voice.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry you had to do that,¡± Cid says to me through the hardened slime bracelet.

    ¡°If I didn¡¯t, he would have made everyone''s life a living nightmare on the colony.¡± I turn to Cid, who is still fighting Crimson, as Fiend runs up my back to my shoulder.

    This is the moment Crane deserves. My family shined bright, so they died in a pyre of flames kindled by the home they built. The town mourned for them. I couldn¡¯t stop crying.

    Crane dies by a kid in the middle of space, and no one cares. No one to see his final moments, not even the one who did him in.

    All that¡¯s left is to make sure Cid, Fiend, and I make it out alive. That only happens when we join the fight against Crimson.

 What Has Changed?

    <b>Through Emanuel¡¯s Eyes</b>

    I fire three shots at Crimson as Fiend jumps on my baton. The blast hits his second skin spell. A chill runs through my body as he''s pushed forward, but he isn¡¯t injured. I¡¯ve never heard of a second skin strong enough to block a blast from this close.

    No time to slow down. I launch Fiend and Crimson, ans he turns. With his eyes on Fiend, he focuses on slashing him. It won''t work. His arm stops as I block it with my baton. Crimson¡¯s isn¡¯t slowed down as his burning metal fist swings at Fiend, but Cid wraps slime around his forearm and pulls back. Leaving Fiend the opportunity to hit Crimson in the chest.

    Without missing a beat, we all move to our next move. Our time training all comes together in this moment. Without exchanging words and relying on reaction time and quick glances to guide our attacks, we move as one and attack, block, and counter when we can.

    Crimson is caught off guard as he takes blow after blow. It''s clear he underestimated us, as we have him surrounded. Fiend jumps from me, strikes Crimson, jumps into Cid, and then strikes again. I focus on finding an opening and hitting him. Cid balances blocking any move that would hit Fiend or myself while punching him with a crystalized fist.

    I can feel the waters shift as less and less hits make contact on Crimson. His eyes jump from all three of us, analyzing, learning. The metal clang of his blade blocking my weapon rings in my ear. He knew it would be there. He moves his head to avoid Fiend, and Cid gets hit, but Crimson is already reaching for his fist to burn him.

    On Cid¡¯s body, more and more cuts of burnt slime appear as his shield is being used to block any hits on us. Crimson moved from countering to offense. Now we are trying to block his slashes, his kicks. Our roles have shifted.

    No matter how much ground we push, no matter how much I have improved, we¡¯re still losing. Cid¡¯s wounds tell me that before I got here, he was only able to keep up with Crimson. I thought that was because he was keeping an eye on me. Now that I¡¯m here, we''ve made headway, but it''s not enough.

    I can¡¯t mess with the ship like earlier as its full focus is on getting away from the Cosmic Swaler. Even then, it''s growing and will be close to swallowing us any minute. My breathing is shallow as the weight of everything is hitting me like a cascading wave, over and over. Fiendkeeps getting up, but how much can he keep taking?

    Then I see it. Cid¡¯s eyes, for a brief moment in our fight, we make eye contact. I failed. I am supposed to support him. I am supposed to stand with him. In that single second, Cid sees all of my feelings that I am keeping to myself. My exhaustion, rage, pain, and, most of all, fear. I laid it out to him with no more energy to hold it back.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    Cid gets a second wind as I continue to follow his movements. Crimson swings at me, but Cid blocks it with a shield. One of his eyes moves to the back of his head and takes the shape of an arrow. He points across to the deck in the escape pod. I get his plan.

    ¡°This is all you have? Defease?¡± Crimson chuckles with glee.

    Cid pushes him back, expanding his body to cover my escape. I run to the pod and thank whatever cosmic being looks out for us. It works. I turn it on and begin punching in coordinates into the console. It doesn¡¯t matter where as long as it is far. It''s better that I don¡¯t know where it is as I can help someone get him back, and Crimson never needs to set foot on any rock again.

    The pod hovers on the deck as I tilt it toward the stars. I leave the door open and the ramp ready. Fiend and I jump back in the fight, signaling to Cid it''s all prepped. At that moment, Crimson stabbed him in the chest and pulled the knife down. He stabs Cid''s side with his mechanical hand, and I can see the slime boil. I fire two shots in Crmson¡¯s back as Fiend smashes his tail into his side. Cid knocks the knife out of Crimson¡¯s hand with his shield. Cid crunches his body like a spring and launches forward with the shield, ramming into Crimson.

    They soar across the deck and into the Escape Pod. I run forward with my blaster out, ready to provide cover fire for when Cid jumps out. If I am right, I can push Crimson back as the doors shut.

    The metal hinges on the pod door creak and slam shut. Cid didn¡¯t jump out. I rush to the escape pod and see Cid holding Crimson down. He expands to fill the room, using the shield to pin Crimson to the ground. His burning metal hand grabs any slime it can. Cid''s groans inpain, but he keeps pushing him down.

    ¡°Cid, hit the button and get out. You can slip out through a crack.

    Cid¡¯s eyes turn to the button, and a slime tendril hovers over the button, but he doesn¡¯t move. Slime covers the window, and his eyes appear there. They are filled with compassion and sorrow.

    ¡°Don¡¯t do it! Let me in, and we can take him together! I can help!¡± It''s hard to see Cid''s face as my tears block my vision. His voice is kind, as always, barring the brunt of our pain when no one asked him to.

    ¡°Thank you, Emanuel. Keep Fiend safe,¡± he says as if he is going out for a walk. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I can¡¯t keep my promise.¡± He presses the button.

    ¡®Cid, please don¡¯t leave.¡± I whimper out. ¡° I can¡¯t do this without you. We were supposed to make it out together-¡±

    The thrusters knock my body back as the Escape pod rushes into space. The Cosmic Swaller turns away from the ship as his prey flies into deep space.

    It''s my fault. He did that because of me. Fiend screams for Cid as we are left alone on the ship. tears run down my cheek as the fire''s smoke covers the stars.

    I scream, louder than ever as smoke from the fire fills my lungs and the stars are blurry by the tears in my eyes. I never wanted to fill this way again.

    Our ship hits the pocket, and we are sent planets, if not galaxies, away from Cid.