A few days had passed.
Piers sat barefoot on the stone steps outside his home…
Chin propped in one palm as the breeze whispered lazily through the trees. His violet-black hair stirred in the wind, his gaze distant—yet his thoughts were anything but calm.
Unique Skill: Soul Storage
Description: Grants the user a personal dimensional space for indefinite containment of wandering souls.
This unique pocket functions as a secure, ethereal storage for disembodied spirits.
He shivered, lips twisting.
Why am I getting all the creepy soul-type skills? Just snatching up wandering souls and… stuffing them into a pocket dimension?
His small shoulders tensed.
Great. Another winner.
"What a useless skill," he muttered, deadpan.
He slouched deeper, chin digging into his palm.
Damn it. What I wanted was another practical one—like Matter Forging.
Now that's a skill with real potential.
With a sigh, he leaned back, staring through the branches overhead.
Maybe the Abyss still had more unique skills buried deeper inside…
A sly grin flickered across his face.
One week break. Then we go back down.
His thoughts drifted to his father—Rigas—and that ridiculous scene after they returned.
Heh. Dad's still patting himself on the back, convinced his one measly day of "training" was what triggered everyone's evolutions. The man actually thinks he's some miracle coach. I almost laughed in his face.
And Styx? She just nodded like it made perfect sense. Unreal.
Still… the best part? Their reactions when I revealed the Arcane Beasts. Tall, humanoid, elemental guardians at my side—they were stunned. Speechless. Exactly what I wanted.
…For all of five minutes.
Then, naturally, they slipped right back into their usual selves. It was as if living with ancient magical beings was just another Tuesday.
Piers groaned under his breath, deadpan.
What an air-headed old man I have…
He pushed himself upright, tiny fists clenching.
"Alright. No time to waste."
A darker grin edged across his lips.
"Let's see what secrets this forest is hiding."
His violet-black eyes glinted.
Already, the possibilities of Matter Forging spun through his mind—strange, dangerous, fascinating things begging to be created.
Just then, something stirred in the nearby bushes, just outside the barrier.
Piers squinted.
Hmm? What's moving there?
Pop!
A small, blue slime launched out of the underbrush like a gelatinous cannonball—only to splat harmlessly against the invisible barrier with a soft, wet thud.
Piers's eyes lit up like fireworks.
"Ooooh! A slime! A real slime! It's the mascot of all fantasy monsters!"
His grin stretched wide—slightly unhinged—as he stared at it like a starving wolf seeing prey.
Without hesitation, he bolted forward.
"My foo—!" He choked, coughed, corrected: "My first pet!"
The slime, sensing death-by-toddler, squeaked out a terrified "eep!" and immediately squelched back into the bushes.
"W-Wait! Come back!" he yelped, crashing into the undergrowth after it.
"You were so slow a second ago! How can you just vanish like that?! That's cheating!"
A rustle on the far side gave it away.
"Gotcha!"
Piers grinned,
lunging with toddler ferocity, scooping it up in one smooth motion—immediately buried his entire face into the slime.
"Aaahhh, you're so cold—like a walking air conditioner. My new pillow!"
Turning it in his hands, he frowned.
"Huh? What's this?"
A strange mark glowed faintly on its forehead—a diamond-shaped gem.
"Whoa… a forehead gem? What are you, the chosen one of slimes?"
He raised a finger to poke it again when—
"GYAAAAAAH!!"
A familiar, panicked scream tore through the woods from his left.
Piers froze. His shoulders slumped. "…Seriously? Already?"
Of course.
It was them. Again.
Crashing through the trees came the inevitable disaster parade: Klak tripping over himself, Rapi shrieking nonsense, Skree yelling orders no one followed, and Rook in the back, shouting like a commander whose army consisted entirely of headless chickens.
Piers's stare flattened further.
Are these stupid crows magnets for trouble… or do they just wake up and choose chaos every morning?
Still cradling the trembling slime in both hands like a precious melon, He wandered toward the chaos. His sleepy eyes stayed flat as he took in the scene: two crows already down cold—classic—while Skree and Rook flailed hopelessly against… whatever that was.
It puffed clouds of spores every few seconds, the air thick like some haunted bakery. The grotesque cap wobbled with each movement, bouncing as if mocking them.
Gross. and annoying.
Piers flicked on Appraisal.
Mushroom Menace (Young)
Rank: A
Description: A nascent specimen of the highly aggressive "Mushroom Menace" species. Though young, it already possesses formidable parasitic and spore-dispersing capabilities. Will grow rapidly into a larger threat if not eliminated.
Threat Level: Dire (for its current stage)
Known Abilities: Spore Cloud (minor), Tendril Grasp (weak)
Weaknesses: Fire, direct physical trauma to its stalk.
Still walking. Piers grumbled under his breath,
Annoying party, annoying monster…
Rook spotted him first. His eyes lit up with desperate hope.
Oh, it's the great hero! Maybe he'll save us again!
Piers just stopped and stared at the mushroom.
Cold.
Unimpressed.
"Oi, Fungi." Flat voice, calm eyes.
"Get lost."
Silence.
The mushroom turned, its mocking wobble freezing the instant its gaze landed on the toddler.
In a heartbeat, smugness snapped into sheer panic—like it had just realized who the real menace was.
It squeaked a sharp "SQUEEEE!" spun on its stalk, and bolted. A full-on mushroom sprint—cap bouncing wildly, spores trailing behind like panicked breadcrumbs—until it vanished into the trees.
Piers exhaled the longest, most exhausted sigh in the entire forest—slime still squished snugly between his little palms, like this whole circus was happening while he held a stress ball.
Rook rushed forward, dropping to his knees beside his fallen comrades.
"Great hero! Please—we need your help! They're gravely injured!"
Piers's half-lidded.
"…Now? What?"
He glanced at the crow-men flopping like broken puppets, then at Skree fumbling to stabilize them.
So damn annoying.
He let out a low, growly throat noise—like a tiny monster trying to sound polite.
"Tch… I already told you. I don't know any kind of healing."
Rook and Skree exchanged a loaded look.
Rook gave a subtle nod. Your turn.
With a dramatic flourish, Skree dug into her tattered pouch and produced a glass vial, holding it aloft like it was divine treasure.
"Oh, kami-sama," she wailed, voice dripping with theatrics.
"This is all the healing potion we have left! If you are merciful, please grant us aid so we may save our comrades!"
Piers blinked. Slowly.
…What? Now they're playing the guilt card? First I save their feathers, then they beg for more, and now they're straight-up making demands?
A vein ticked visibly on his temple.
"What a drag…" he muttered, rubbing his forehead. "Fine. Fine. Hand me the bottle."
Skree obediently placed the tiny vial in his hand. Barely a drop of blue liquid sloshed at the bottom.
Piers squinted at it.
Hmm. Should be enough to reverse-engineer.
He triggered Matter Forging. Instantly, intricate alchemical threads unraveled in his mind, every formula and ratio exposing itself.
His nerd-brain kicked into overdrive, humming like a lab machine.
Seconds later, a neat row of new vials shimmered into existence in his palm.
Not blue—these glowed a deep, ember-orange, their light pulsing softly yet intensely.
Different. Stronger. Richer.
"Here." He tossed them lazily at Skree, like they were spare snacks.
"Use these."
Skree and Rook hesitated. Another glance passed between them.
Then, with a helpless shrug, Skree splashed the orange liquid onto Klak and Rapi's limp forms.
The result was instant.
Klak bolted upright, feathers puffed.
"YOO! Where's that mushroom?! I'm gonna beat the spores outta it!"
Rapi sprang up beside him.
"YEAHH! Get back here, you overgrown fungus freak! Round two, baby!"
Piers crossed his arms, a smug glint flickering in his violet-black eyes.
Of course. I'm a genius.
Rook, seeing the immediate recovery, stunningly stared with wide eyes.
"Oh, great hero! I thank you!" he exclaimed, bowing deeply once more.
"What, now?" Piers groaned, pivoting with an exasperated glare.
"First off, I'm not some hero." He jabbed a tiny, accusing finger toward his house.
"And second—that's my house. If Mom sees weird monsters hanging around me, she'll flip. And when she's mad?" He shook his head gravely.
"She levels the whole forest. So—bye."
Still cradling the blue slime like a reluctant cat-dad, he turned to leave—
"Please, great hero!" Rook's voice cracked with raw desperation.
"You have the power to save us! Our people are on the brink of death!"
Piers paused mid-step.
Rook's feathers trembled.
"Desperate, we sought help from humans… but they mocked us. Humiliated us. They stole our S-rank monster core and laughed as though we were insects."
Skree lowered her head.
"We thought… maybe you were kind enough to help."
"Maybe this is destiny," Klak added, bowing low with Rapi beside him.
"Please, have mercy on us, Hero-sama!"
Silence.
The slime squirmed gently in Piers's arms, letting out a soft "syuu," but his face stayed blank.
"…And why," he said flatly.
"Why should I care? Your people, your problem. None of it has anything to do with me."
His voice carried no sympathy, just a bored finality.
"So don't try to drag me into it."
Seriously. Destiny? That's your big card? Lame.
Rook's feathers bristled. He bowed lower, voice trembling with urgency.
"Hero-sama, please! It's not just our clan—there's a disaster on the way. If you would only hear our plea once, you would understand!"
Piers clicked his tongue, irritation clear.
He turned slightly as if to leave—then stopped. His eyes narrowed, unreadable.
"…Fine. I'll hear it.
At night.
Wait here.
Tell me your problem then."
Relief crashed over the group like a wave. They bowed low, feathers trembling.
"Yes, Hero-sama!" Rook's eyes shone.
"May we know your great name?"
Piers glanced over his shoulder,
"...It's Piers."
With that, he gave them the barest nod and walked off, the slime still wobbling in his arms.
"Piers…" Rook whispered, reverent. Then, with a voice full of awe, he corrected himself:
"Lord Piers…"