Preparing for slimes felt absurd. Lucas stood in his Sector 2 plot, staring at his meager arsenal. Club: useless against acid. Knife: worse. Riot Shield: would melt. His Thralls, for all their loyalty, weren't ideal either. Mem's porcelain might resist, but Volt's metal would corrode, and Scribbles... well, paper and acid didn't mix.
He needed a new Thrall. Something that could handle corrosion. Or better yet, *use* it.
The water treatment plant was a maze of concrete vats and rusted pipes, now overgrown with phosphorescent moss that pulsed in time with the distant Obelisk's hum. The air grew thick with a vinegar-sharp tang that burned the lungs. Acid mist.
[Environmental Hazard: Corrosive Vapors]
[Health will degrade by 1 point every 30 seconds without protection.]
Lucas tied a wet cloth over his nose and mouth. It was pathetic, but it was all he had. He'd left Eleanor and Mark back at the Safe Zone—this was too dangerous for them. He brought his full roster: Mem at point, Volt scanning for heat signatures, Scribbles secured in his pack. And two empty slots in his soul, waiting to be filled.
The first slime was a tutorial mob. It oozed from a broken pipe, a gelatinous, translucent green blob the size of a dog, leaving a sizzling trail on the concrete. [Corrosion Slime (Lesser), Level 2]. It moved with a slow, deliberate pulse.
Mem stepped forward, but Lucas held up a hand. "Wait."
He focused on his new skill, [Edict of the Chain]. He could feel the Mana cost—a significant chunk of his pool—but he needed to test it.
"**Stop,**" he commanded, not with his voice, but with his will, pushing the concept through the skill.
A ripple of silver energy, visible only to him, shot forward and wrapped around the slime. The creature *froze*, mid-ooze, quivering.
[Edict: "Stop" imposed. Duration: 15 seconds. Mana Cost: 8/15.]
Fifteen seconds. Not long. And it had cost more than half his Mana. This wasn't a spammable skill. It was a tactical nuke.
"Mem, puncture its core. Avoid contact."
Mem darted in, needle flashing. It pierced the center of the quivering blob. The slime didn't scream; it just deflated with a wet *pop*, dissolving into a harmless puddle of lukewarm gel and leaving behind a small, pearlescent [Acid Gland].
So they could be killed. But this was just one. The deeper they went into the plant, the more they found—clinging to walls, pooling in corners, some as large as cars. They avoided the big ones. Lucas's strategy became one of stealth and precision strikes, using [Ambient Meld] to blend with the industrial decay, Mem as his surgical instrument.
It was slow, grinding work. His Mana barely regenerated in the toxic air. He was down to 5 Health, constantly sipping from his single, precious Basic Healing Salve, when they found the nest.
It was in the main sedimentation tank—a vast, circular concrete bowl now filled not with water, but with a heaving, bubbling mass of green slime. Dozens of them had merged into a single, enormous entity that filled the tank. In its center, a darker, viscous core pulsed like a sick heart. [Corrosion Amalgam, Level 6. Boss-type.]
This was the source. This was what Finch wanted dead.
There was no way they could fight it. A direct assault would see them dissolved in seconds.
Lucas's [Scavenger's Eye] triggered, highlighting a series of [Fracture Points]—the old, rusted support struts holding up a catwalk that ran around the upper rim of the tank, directly above the monster.
An idea, born of desperation and a lifetime of cheesing game mechanics, formed.
"Volt," he whispered. "Those metal supports. Can you overload them? Heat them until they fail?"
Volt's green lens whirred, analyzing. It emitted a soft, affirmative chime. But it would have to get close to the edge, right above the acidic mass.
"It's a one-way trip for you," Lucas said, the words heavy. Volt was a Thrall, a possession, but he'd come to rely on the steady, silent machine. "You'll fall in."
Volt nuzzled his hand, then turned and scuttled up the access ladder to the catwalk without hesitation. Loyalty: 100%.
Lucas, Mem, and Scribbles retreated to a safe distance, watching from behind a crumbling concrete wall.
Volt reached the first fracture point. It clamped its jaws onto the rusted steel and unleashed a continuous, concentrated [Electro-Jolt]. The metal began to glow cherry red. The Amalgam beneath sensed the disturbance, extending pseudopods of acid up toward the catwalk.
The first support groaned, then snapped. A section of the catwalk sagged.
Volt moved to the second, repeating the process. Another pseudopod lashed out, catching Volt's hind leg. Metal sizzled. The Thrall shuddered but held on, pouring every joule of energy into the strut.
The second support failed.
With a shriek of tearing metal, the entire section of catwalk—a good thirty feet of heavy grating and steel—plunged into the slime pit below.
The impact was catastrophic for the Amalgam. Thousands of pounds of metal smashed into its core, shearing through its gelatinous body, physically crushing and dispersing it. The creature didn't die cleanly; it *came apart*, exploding into a shower of smaller, weakened slime fragments.
[Corrosion Amalgam Health: 3/180]
[Status: Dispersed, Core Exposed, Will Broken.]
The golden prompt flashed. But not for the dying Amalgam. As the acid mist began to clear, Lucas saw it. Among the shattered, shrinking fragments of the boss, something new was coalescing. A smaller, more concentrated form. A slime, but different. Denser. Its color was a deep, potent emerald, and in its center, the damaged core of the Amalgam pulsed weakly. It was a newborn entity, born from the trauma and the overwhelming will to survive that Lucas had just crushed.
[Entity: Virulent Core (Unique)]
[Level: 4]
[Health: 10/50]
[Status: Newborn, Confused, Terrified. Will: Shattered.]
This wasn't just a monster. It was the heart of the infestation, rendered vulnerable. It was perfect.
Lucas didn't hesitate. His chain, thicker and more potent than ever before, shot out. This wasn't the thread-like chain that bound Scribbles, or even the sturdy one that bound Volt. This was a chain of dark silver, etched with the new authority of an Overlord-Apparent.
It slammed into the Virulent Core.
The binding was violent. The core fought, not with physical strength, but with a wave of pure, corrosive despair that washed over Lucas. It was the essence of decay, of entropy. For a second, he felt his own will erode, his resolve turning to powder.
Then his Legendary class asserted itself. The chain held. And tightened.
[ABSOLUTE SUBJUGATION Successful!]
[Thrall Acquired: [Virulent Core] -> Designation Updated: [Viridian Heart 'Vir'].]
[Capacity: 4/5.]
[Soul-Theft Initiated…]
[Ability [Corrosive Touch] detected.]
[Extracting Skill-Shard… Integrating at [Level 1]…]
[New Passive Skill Acquired: [Acidic Blood - Lvl 1] - Your blood gains mild corrosive properties. Spilled blood can degrade low-quality materials. Provides minor resistance to acid-based attacks.]
Lucas gasped as a new, burning sensation settled into his veins. Not painful, but present. A constant, low-grade threat within him.
In the settling pit of dissolving slime and wreckage, his new Thrall formed. It was a sphere about the size of a basketball, made of what looked like solidified emerald glass. Inside, a darker green liquid pulsed. It floated gently, emanating a soft, toxic light.
Vir.
He had done it. He had cleared the nest. And he had gained a Thrall of pure corrosion. A weapon of decay.
He looked at the wreckage where Volt had sacrificed itself. A pang of something like grief hit him, followed immediately by the cold calculus of an Overlord. A trade: one Thrall lost, a stronger one gained. The math of survival.
He had his proof for the council. And he had a new, deadly piece on the board.
"Let's go home," he said to Mem and Scribbles, Vir floating silently beside him. "We have a chair to claim."