The silence of the Death Route was absolute, broken only by the rhythmic, soft thud of boots against weathered stone. Blop walked with a carefree air, his humming echoing slightly through the thick, grey mist that swallowed the horizon.
To his left and right, withered trees stood like skeletal sentinels, their bark peeled back like rotting skin, rooted in a ground that felt devoid of life.
("This is such a nice place,") Blop mused, his Brown eyes scanning the desolation. ("No one to disturb me, no shouting, just peace. I can't wait to reach the Robelt Kingdom and see if they have a throne ready for me.")
As he was lost in his ego-filled thoughts, a sudden, sharp coldness bloomed on his left shoulder. He stopped, tilting his head.
A single, heavy drop of water smeared across the fine fabric of his royal silks. He looked toward the sky, but the grey mist had been replaced by a suffocating ceiling of black, churning clouds. The atmosphere grew heavy, smelling of ozone and wet earth.
("Huh?")Blop grumbled, poking at the wet spot.( "This stupid water again? Why must the sky leak on me?")
He squinted through the gloom, searching for a roof, but the Death Route offered nothing but decay. Then, the sky opened. The drizzle turned into a violent downpour within seconds.
Desperate to protect his vanity and his expensive clothes, Blop broke into a sprint. Through the haze, the silhouette of an ancient ruin appeared—a crumbling stone structure guarded by rotten trees and half-buried under massive, collapsed boulders.
He reached the entrance, but his heart sank. The passage was choked with rubble, leaving only a tiny, jagged hole barely large enough for a small animal.
("Hmm, I can rest here for the rain to stop,") Blop thought, examining the gap. ("But that hole is too small. I'll have to squeeze my body.")
He looked at his royal silks, then at the mud. ("Wait. I should throw my clothes inside first. I can't ruin these.")
With practiced ease, he stripped off his silks, bundling them into a ball and tossing them through the narrow opening. They landed with a soft thud in the dry darkness beyond. Then, Blop let his concentration slip.
His "human" frame—the solidified muscle and bone he had mimicked—began to vibrate and lose its tension. Like ice melting under a summer sun, his form liquefied. He became a shimmering, dark puddle of obsidian slime.
With a wet, rhythmic pulsing, he flowed toward the hole. His viscous body stretched, thinning into a long, dark ribbon as he squeezed through the tight cracks between the boulders. Once inside, he pooled back together in the cool, dry shadows of the ruin.
It was pitch black. The air was stagnant,
smelling of dust and something metallic.
("Huh? I can't see anything,")he muttered, his voice echoing in the hollow chamber.
("Should I transform back to my two-legged form? Or maybe a wolf would be better for the dark?")
Before he could choose, a new sensation hit him. His Heat Signature Sensing flared. Even without eyes, his slime body could feel a wave of warmth—the distinct heat of a living creature pulsing nearby.
Immediately, his survival instincts flared. Inside his slimy mass, bones began to re-emerge, clicking into place. Dark fur sprouted rapidly from his skin as his jaw elongated, filling with rows of needle-sharp teeth.
He didn't just change; he reconstructed himself into a predatory wolf-form, dropping into a defensive stance. He was ready to slaughter whatever moved, his claws digging into the stone floor.
But nothing attacked. The heat signature stayed still.
Growing impatient, Blop turned toward the blocked entrance. He lunged, his powerful wolf paws striking the rubble. Boom! Dust exploded. Boom! Another strike shattered a loose stone, allowing the grey light of the storm outside to pour into the chamber.
As the dust settled, Blop turned back, his wolf eyes adjusting to the light. He saw a boy. He was laying sprawled on the cold stone, his clothes torn to ribbons and his skin covered in grime. He looked half-dead.
Blop's fur retracted as he shifted back into his small, two-legged human frame.( "Huh? I used my energy for this thing? Just to see an ant?") he huffed, feeling insulted. ("What a waste.")
He walked over to where he had thrown his royal silks, picking them up and meticulously sliding them back onto his small frame. He glanced at the laying boy one more time, then turned his back.
("Hmm, what should I do now?") he wondered aloud.( "I have to get to Robelt, but this ruin looks interesting. It would be a waste not to explore. Oh, I'll just go and see—I promise to myself that I won't touch anything.")
He left the boy behind, his footsteps echoing as he ventured deeper into the heart of the ruin. The hallway opened into a grand, circular chamber. In the center sat a dried-up pond, and surrounding it were three massive statues.
They were half-destroyed, their stone faces cracked and their limbs missing, yet they still carried an aura of ancient power.
Blop approached the pond, his curiosity getting the better of him.
He reached out, his fingers tracing the rough, cold stone of the carvings. ("The arts are quite good,")he whispered.
He noticed a small protrusion on the base of the central statue—a hidden button disguised as a decorative leaf. Before he could stop himself, he pressed it.
The silence was shattered. The central statue groaned, then collapsed entirely, crumbling into a pile of rubble. From the center of the dried pond, a purple orb rose, floating in the air and pulsing with a malevolent light.
"THE TRIAL OF THE PREDATOR HAS ACTIVATED."
The voice was cold and hollow, seemingly coming from the orb itself. Simultaneously, the heavy stone gate behind Blop slammed shut with a thunderous thud, sealing him inside.
("Trial of the Predator?")Blop tilted his head, his ego unfazed. ("Is that a type of juice? Or a roasted meat?")
A blur of blue fur and shadow lunged from the darkness behind him. Blop's instincts screamed. He dodged just in time, but he felt a sharp sting. He looked down to see a shallow cut on his thigh.
Standing before him was a beast—a wolf, but wrong. It had matted blue fur, teeth like ivory daggers, and claws that seemed to absorb the light.
Blop didn't panic. Instead, he leaped backward, his body reacting with unnatural speed. He latched onto the vertical stone wall like a leech, his slime-based grip allowing him to defy gravity.
("Wait, this small frame moves faster! It can be an advantage,") he realized.
The beast didn't give him time to think. It launched itself at the wall, its massive jaws snapping at the spot where Blop's head had been.
Blop pushed off, somersaulting through the air and landing back on the ground. The beast crashed into the wall—Boom!—shaking the entire chamber.
The Beast recovered instantly, launching another assault. Blop tried to dodge, but the beast was relentless. A claw caught his shoulder, tearing through his silks and deep into his flesh.
Blop retreated, his breath coming in short gasps. He looked at his shoulder and his eyes widened. His Passive Regeneration—an ability that should have healed the wound in seconds—wasn't working. The blood continued to flow, Blue and warm.
("This beast is dangerous," )Blop snarled, his childish voice turning low and menacing.
("How can its claws defuse my healing? And I have no food... if I keep bleeding, my energy will run out. If my energy is empty, I will be dead.")
The Beast sensed his weakness and lunged again, aiming for Blop's chest. Blop didn't run. As the beast's claws pierced his chest, Blop used his slime-like internal control to move his heart an inch to the right. The claws missed the vital organ by a hair's breadth.
In that same moment, Blop's face split open—his jaw unhinging to reveal a maw of obsidian teeth. He buried his teeth into the beast's neck, tearing away a huge, dripping hunk of meat.
The Beast roared in agonizing pain, backing away as blood sprayed the stone floor. Blop chewed the meat, finding it sour and bitter, but he swallowed it greedily. He needed the energy to survive.
He looked at the beast. The wound he had inflicted was deep; the Thoracic Vertebrae were now visible through the torn fur and muscle. The beast, driven by madness, lunged one last time.
Blop leaped high into the air, soaring over the beast's head. He extended his claws, hardening them into points of solid bone, and drove them downward with all his strength into the beast's exposed Thoracic Vertebrae.
Crack.
The Beast hit the ground, its spine shattered. It let out one final, gurgling breath and went still.
The bleeding from Blop's own wounds was still steady. He knew he had to act fast. He threw off his ruined royal silks and dissolved into his dark, slimy liquid form. He flowed over the beast's carcass, latching onto it like a parasite.
As he began to devour the Beast body, absorbing its mass and energy, the hollow voice returned.
"TRIAL COMPLETE. YOU HAVE DEFEATED THE BLOODLUST WOLFARE."
The purple orb shattered into a thousand glittering pieces. From the fragments, a small potion bottle and a silver amulet dropped to the floor.
When the beast was nothing but bone and dust, Blop regained his small, human frame. He felt his energy refilling, though the wounds on his leg and shoulder still refused to close fully. He dressed quickly and approached the loot.
He picked up the potion. The label was written in a jagged, ancient language that made his head swim.
("Arob...ar...bla...yo.sj,")he tried to read, frustrated. ("Why is this so difficult? Did I kill that damn wolf just for a single juice? What a waste.")
He looked at his bleeding shoulder. ("This still won't stop. Shosh, what a pain." )He looked at the potion again. It was a deep purple with swirling silver sparkles.( "Hmm, it looks tasty. I must try it.")
He uncorked the bottle and gulped the liquid. It hit his tongue like a thousand-year-old bitter medicine. He gagged, coughing some of it back out, but then he froze.
The stinging in his leg and shoulder vanished. He looked down; the skin was smooth and unscarred. The bleeding had stopped instantly.
("Hey! My bleeding stopped!" )he cheered, his ego returning.( "What a relief. I thought I would have to eat all day while walking to Robelt. And what does this thing do?")
He picked up the amulet. He had no idea how to use it, but he tucked it into his pocket regardless.(" A God should have accessories, after all.")
As he walked back toward the entrance of the ruin, he saw the boy again. He was still laying there, his chest rising and falling in shallow, weak breaths.
("Hmm, what should I do with him?" )Blop thought, tapping his chin. ("He must be hungry. That's why he's laying there. I've seen that I can give my blood to other creatures as food. It's a small sacrifice for a God, hehehe.")
He approached the boy and made a small cut on his own wrist. Blue, nutrient-rich blood welled up. He held his wrist over the boy's mouth, but it remained shut.
("Huh? Oh, wait. I have to open it.")
He reached down, grabbing the boy's jaw and forcing his mouth open. He poured a steady stream of his blood into the boy's throat.
As the essence of the "Blue Blood" entered the boy's system, a spark of life returned to his pale face.
The boy's eyes fluttered open. He saw a small, beautiful figure dressed in shimmering royal silks standing over him in the dim light.
("What? A Royal noblest is saving me?" )the boy thought, his mind racing. ("But why?")
Driven by fear and confusion, the boy scrambled back, standing in a shaky but defensive stance. Blop just looked at him, confused by the reaction.
("Huh? Did he not like the taste?") Blop thought. ("Yes, I know my blood is a little bitter, but it's not that bad.")
Blop stood up straight, dusting off his silks. ("Huh. I think I should go now for Robelt.")
He turned and began to walk out of the ruin, heading back into the mist. The boy watched him, his eyes wide.
("Wait, she is leaving me? Why save me then?" )the boy panicked.
( "Should I ask for help? What if she sells me as a slave? But she used a high-level elixir to save me... I can't stay here in this desert.")
"Oy!" the boy called out. His voice was dry, cracking with shyness.
Blop turned back, a smug smile on his face. ("Is he trying to worship me? I know I'm a God, but I don't want too much attention right now. Still... one follower would be good.")
The boy ran toward him, stopping a few feet away and straightening his posture to look as respectful as possible.
"Why... why did you save me?" the boy asked. When Blop didn't answer immediately, he spoke again, his voice trembling. "Why use such a high-level elixir on a stranger?"
("Huh? What elixir?" )Blop thought. ("Is that a drink? Oh! He thinks I gave him that purple juice! He thinks I drank his juice and now he wants it back? I can't give it back, I already drank it!")
Blop didn't say a word. He just turned and started walking again.
"Wait!" the boy cried out, his voice now filled with hope. "Can I... can I come with you?"
Blop paused, then gave a single, regal nod.
The boy hurried to his side, walking a few paces behind. After a few minutes of walking through the withered trees, the boy spoke again. "So... Miss... what is your name? If you don't mind."
Blop felt a surge of triumph. He looked toward the horizon, his voice clear and proud.
"Blop."
("Hahaha! I finally said it smoothly!" )Blop cheered internally.( "Now he will see how great I am!")
The boy repeated the name under his breath, then bowed slightly. "I am Rarcth."
Blop nodded, acknowledging his first disciple. Together, the two of them walked deeper into the grey mist of the Death Route, the stone path under their feet leading them toward the mysteries of the Robelt Kingdom.