Kael had never seen the outer gates from the outside before. Not really.
Sure, there were garden strolls and escorted rides with his brothers, but this? This was different.
This was freedom.
It started with a craving—not for food (shockingly), but for space. Fresh air. Somewhere he didn’t have to wear anything with gold trim.
So he packed his hoodie pockets with snacks, a canteen of water, two bandages, a dagger he wasn’t technically allowed to have, and one very stubborn attitude.
“Alright, Sage,” he whispered, crouching in the stable shadows. “Operation Forest Sneak is a go.”
“Success rate: 38%. You packed three cinnamon rolls and no defensive spells.”
“Cinnamon rolls count as morale boosts.”
“Incorrect.”
Kael peeked around the stable gate, waited for the patrolling guard to yawn and turn, then slipped through the side path and vaulted over the drainage wall. Grass stained his knees. He grinned.
Freedom.
The Forest Beyond
The Emberhollow woods were warm and golden, filtered sunlight dripping through fat-leafed trees. The air smelled like pine and wildflowers and the faintest trace of magic—like sparks you couldn’t see but felt in your skin.
Kael walked slowly, soaking it all in. Birds chirped. Squirrels darted. A pair of blue-banded butterflies circled his head like curious scouts.
“So this is what nature’s like when it isn’t trying to eat me.”
“Correction: 17% of known forest zones in Ira contain carnivorous flora.”
Kael stopped walking.
“You really know how to kill a vibe, you know that?”
“Acknowledged.”
He climbed a tree for the view—mostly for fun, partially to scan the horizon. Emberhollow’s rooftops were barely visible to the south, the castle spires like polite fingers waving goodbye.
He sat on the branch, unwrapped a cinnamon roll, and tore off a bite.
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
It tasted better out here.
A Slime Problem Appears
An hour deeper into the woods, Kael crouched by a small stream and spotted something odd: a faint shimmer near a fern.
It wobbled.
Light blue. Semi-transparent. No eyes, no mouth—just a vaguely round blob of jelly-like mana, gently pulsating.
“Sage… is that what I think it is?”
“Yes. Low-tier mana lifeform. Classification: Slime. Non-hostile.”
The slime quivered, emitting a soft glow. It didn’t attack or flee—it just sat there, shivering slightly.
Kael inched closer. “Hey there, buddy. You look… kinda gooey. You good?”
The slime wobbled in response.
“Looks like it’s hurt. Or sick.”
Kael pulled a bandage from his hoodie pocket, then paused. “Do slimes even… have wounds?”
“Surface damage detected. Mana structure destabilized. Manual healing possible.”
He gently poured water from his canteen over it, then laid the bandage on top like a blanket. The slime trembled again, then settled.
“There ya go. That better?”
The slime slowly crept closer and nudged his boot.
Then didn’t move.
“Uh… Sage?”
“This slime has elected to remain near you. It wishes to form a familiar contract.”
Kael blinked. “Wait, seriously?”
“Correct.”
He stared at the soft, jiggling orb now curled against his foot.
“You know... I always said if I ended up in a fantasy world, and met a slime, I’d name it Rimuru.”
“Naming the familiar Rimuru. Confirm?”
Kael grinned. “Confirm.”
A tiny spark of mana pulsed from his palm to the slime. It shimmered, then bounced with excitement.
“Familiar contract complete.”
The slime pulsed again. Its glow intensified.
“Wait… Sage? Is it supposed to be glowing like that?”
“Naming has triggered an evolutionary reaction.”
The light around the slime flared and swirled, its body rippling with energy. It expanded slightly, growing smoother, denser, and more vibrant. Where it once quivered uncertainly, it now pulsed with a steady rhythm.
When the glow faded, the slime looked… cooler. Still round and gooey, but now it floated slightly off the ground and emitted a gentle aura.
“Evolution complete. Rimuru has ascended to: Rare Mana Slime.”
Kael clutched his hoodie drawstrings. “Oh my god. My slime just evolved. This is everything.”
Rimuru suddenly wobbled, and a new ripple of energy formed in its core. A strange sensation pulsed from Kael’s bond with the slime.
“New Skill acquired: Predator.”
Kael froze. “Sage… did you just say…?”
“Confirmed. The familiar Rimuru has acquired the Extra Skill: Predator. This grants the ability to absorb, analyze, and mimic properties of consumed matter.”
Kael stared at Rimuru like it was a divine artifact. “You’re kidding.”
“Negative.”
Kael slowly smiled. “I named a slime Rimuru… and it actually got Predator.”
He scooped Rimuru into his arms. “Welcome to the squad, Rimuru. We’re gonna break the world together.”
Rimuru let out a soft, happy wobble, then hopped onto Kael’s shoulder like it had always belonged there.
Voices in the Leaves
Kael froze as distant voices echoed through the trees.
Not soldiers. Not nobles.
Goblins.
He ducked into the brush and crept closer. A small patrol of five green-skinned figures in patchwork leather moved carefully through the underbrush. Each held a spear or crude blade.
They looked tired. Hungry. Determined.
One tripped over a root and faceplanted into a bush.
“Flarkin stick-brush!” he cursed in a surprisingly high voice.
Kael stifled a laugh. That had to be the goblin equivalent of swearing.
Another helped him up. “Quiet, Gobrin. If the tan-stalkers hear us again, we’re done for.”
Kael perked up.
“Tan-stalkers?”
“They killed three more of ours last moon. Always watching. Always hunting.”
Kael’s grin faded.
This wasn’t just forest banter. There were things out here.
The goblins moved on. Kael didn’t follow. He stayed crouched until their voices vanished into the trees.
Rimuru squished quietly on his shoulder, mimicking Kael’s furrowed brow with a tiny wrinkle across its surface.
Heading Home
He walked back with a lot more caution and a lot less snacking. Rimuru floated beside him like a cheerful balloon, occasionally bobbing up and down like it was dancing to music only it could hear—then hopping back onto Kael’s head like it was its personal throne.
“You’re really milking this mascot thing, huh?”
Rimuru squeaked innocently.
“Hey, Sage.”
“Yes, Kael?”
“You said carnivorous plants were rare, right?”
“Correct.”
“What about tan-stalkers?”
A pause.
“Query unresolved. No known beast matches that name.”
Kael exhaled slowly.
“Guess we’ll find out.”
He stepped back through the stable door, dirt-streaked, hoodie-torn, and now accompanied by a happy, floating, goopy battle buddy named Rimuru—who could now eat things for power and used Kael as its personal furniture.
Tomorrow, he’d go deeper.