Chapter 23: The Night of Slimes
“You there, kids,” a voice called out.
They turned.
A fat man stood before them, absolutely drowned in jewellery—rings clinking with every flick of his fingers, chains stacked on chains, gemstones flashing in the sunlight like they were competing for attention.
His perfume hit them a second later, thick and floral, strong enough to stun a cow at ten paces. His moustache gleamed unnaturally, curled so sharply it looked like it had been waxed five minutes ago.
Dior stared at him slowly.
From the shiny moustache…
To the gem-studded fingers…
To the bulging belly straining against silk.
His expression settled somewhere between judging and deeply disappointed—like he’d just been served spoiled fruit.
“What is it, sir?” Aspen stepped forward politely.
The man puffed up like a rooster, twisting his moustache with theatrical flair.
“Lord Lysander. Elric Lysander de Frontos. Surely you’ve heard the name.”
Dior blinked.
Twice.
“…Is it a brand?” he asked seriously.
“It’s quite long to remember. I don’t recall any moustache-growth oil with that name.”
The man’s smile twitched. Just a little.
“Because it is NOT an oil!” he snapped.
“It is my NAME!”
Aspen elbowed Dior sharply.
“Stop provoking him.”
Dior didn’t even flinch.
“Oh, my bad,” he said lazily, folding his arms.
“So what does Mr. de front-toes want?”
Ryl slapped a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking violently.
“It’s not front-toes!” Elric barked.
“It’s Frontos!”
“Ah.” Dior nodded with exaggerated understanding.
“That explains why it’s… very front.”
He pointed.
Elric followed the gesture—straight to his belly.
“I—HOW DARE—!”
Elric choked on air, face flushing red as a beet. He cleared his throat aggressively, forcing his dignity back into place.
“I planned to hire hunters as my personal bodyguards,” he announced stiffly.
“But none were worthy. Then I saw you three rescuing that girl.”
A smug smile crawled onto his face.
“You low lads should be honoured that I have decided to keep you as my bodyguards.”
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Dior tilted his head, eyes half-lidded.
“Keep us?”
He leaned closer, sniffed the air once, then recoiled slightly.
“If you apply any more perfume, even mosquitoes won’t dare come near you.”
Ryl exploded with laughter. Aspen covered his face, already regretting waking up today.
“I’ll have you know this is a very expensive imported perfume!” Elric sputtered.
“Oh, I believe you,” Dior said calmly.
“Imported straight from your ancestors’ graveyard.”
He waved a hand in front of his nose.
“Smells like ashes.”
Aspen physically jumped between them before the situation truly combusted.
“Sir, please,” he said quickly, bowing.
“We’re ordinary hunters. We cannot accept a bodyguard job.”
“But—”
“Have a good day!”
Aspen bowed again, grabbed Dior by the sleeve and Ryl by the collar, and sprinted away.
_ _ _
After escaping Elric’s lingering perfume cloud, they bought oranges and collapsed under a tree.
Aspen exhaled heavily.
“You could’ve at least tried being polite.”
“Why?” Dior asked, peeling an orange with surgical precision.
“Would he even recognise politeness if it slapped him?”
“I meant—he’s older than us.”
Dior popped an orange slice into his mouth.
“Then he should act like a proper elder instead of a walking jewellery store.”
Ryl snickered.
“So what is it? Do you hate the rich… or just him?”
Dior paused mid-peel.
“…I just don’t like the rich.”
Ryl tilted his head.
“But you ARE rich.”
“I was,” Dior muttered.
“I left that house.”
Both Aspen and Ryl froze.
“You LEFT your family?!” Ryl gaped.
Aspen also leaned forward.
Dior took another bite, unfazed.
“I don’t need to tell you everything.”
They sighed dramatically.
After a moment…
“Actually… Aspen,” Ryl said nervously.
“At the mansion… I—I saw skeletons.”
Aspen stiffened. “Skeletons?”
“Yes! Like… a HUGE pile!”
Aspen’s gaze darkened as he stared at the ground.
“I hoped it wasn’t what I feared…” He clenched his fist.
“…but fate has other plans.”
He touched his right wrist, fingers brushing the leather wrist brace.
“It must be a cursed spirit,” he murmured.
Ryl choked on his orange so hard he nearly saw his ancestors.
“C-cursed spirits?!”
“The skeletons prove it,” Aspen said quietly, eyes lowered.
A heavy silence settled.
“We should leave this to the Wielders,” Dior said at last, voice steady.
“Only they can deal with cursed spirits properly.”
“You’re right,” Aspen nodded.
“This isn’t something we should rush into.”
“Oh thank the heavens,” Ryl sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest.
“You two actually made a sensible decision for once.”
Dior shot him a sharp look.
Ryl immediately turned away, inspecting his orange like it had suddenly become fascinating.
“Come on,” Ryl said quickly.
“It’s getting dark. Let’s head back before something else—”
“Aaaahhhh!!”
A scream tore through the forest like a blade.
All three froze.
Then they bolted.
Branches snapped underfoot as they burst into a clearing.
A man lay sprawled on the ground, scrambling backward in terror.
Above him loomed a massive slime—its translucent body wobbling grotesquely, thick tendrils slapping the earth.
“That thing is HUGE!” Ryl yelped.
Dior narrowed his eyes.
A strange symbol was carved into the slime’s forehead.
“That’s not normal,” Dior muttered, already drawing an arrow.
He fired.
The arrow bounced off uselessly, clattering to the ground.
Aspen lunged forward, dagger flaring with light—
SLASH!
The blade tore a deep gash through the slime’s body.
For a split second—
It worked.
Then the wound sealed itself with a wet schlorp.
“No use!” Aspen hissed.
Ryl grabbed the injured man and shoved him away.
The slime let out an awful squelching sound and charged again.
Aspen slashed again and again; repeatedly—
Chunks flew, splattering the ground like jelly.
“Ah—!”
He staggered, clutching his right wrist.
“It’s acting up again…”
His breathing turned uneven. He tightened the brace, fingers trembling.
Then—
The scattered pieces began to move.
Sliding.
Creeping.
They merged together—
Forming an even bigger blob.
Ryl groaned.
“Slimes do NOT do that!!”
“If weapons are useless,” Dior muttered, calmly switching arrows, “then we need elements.”
He lit an arrow with fire.
Swizzz—
BOOM!!
The slime erupted violently, chunks flying in every direction as they disintegrated into smoke.
“It worked!” Aspen exclaimed.
Rustle.
“Did you guys hear that?” Ryl whispered.
They turned.
Glorp.
Splurt.
Blorp.
Dozens of slimes oozed out from between the trees.
Ryl screamed.
“WHAT THE HECK IS THAT?!”
Dior exhaled slowly.
“My headache just got worse…”
“Slashing won’t work,” Aspen said tightly.
“They regenerate. We need a strategy.”
He tightened his grip.
“Ryl! You and I distract them. Dior—blast them!”
“On it!”
BOOM!
Slash!
BLAST!
Slish!
Squish!
BAM!
The area filled with slashes and the blasting of Slimes.
Aspen glanced up—
Too many.
“It’s pointless to take them one by one…”
A slime leapt toward Ryl.
“Ryl—behind you!” Aspen cried.
“Huh—!” Ryl spun and slashed.
“They keep multiplying!!”
Aspen inhaled sharply.
“If we unite them… it’ll be faster.
But… it risks a forest fire…”
His eyes darted around—
Then locked onto a wide clearing with barely any trees.
“Yes…!”
He turned.
“Ryl! Draw them there!”
“Got it!”
He signaled Dior.
They sprinted, slimes surging after them like a living flood.
“Dior! Now!!”
They dove back.
Dior raised his bow.
Multiple arrows ignited at once.
KAAAAABBBOOOOOM!!
The explosion thundered through the clearing. Trees snapped. Smoke swallowed the sky.
They coughed violently as the air cleared.
“That—eh—was rough…” Aspen wheezed.
“Rough?!” Ryl shrieked.
“IT WAS TERRIFYING!!”
“It was our only option!” Aspen shot back.
“Dior was almost out of arrows!”
“BUT STILL—!”
“The mark,” Dior interrupted quietly, kneeling near the burnt remains.
“On its forehead.”
They fell silent.
“It was earth spirit power.”
“Earth spirit…?” Aspen asked.
“Cursed earth spirit,” Dior corrected as he paused.
“…And its ability is—”
He looked up.
“Beast Taming.”
*****
Chapter 24: Becoming a Prey
