Chapter 19: Chapter 13: Evo Slimes
Over the past few days, he had acquainted himself with the various inhabitants of his dungeon, visiting the Ocelot-kin villages, playing games with Lila and her siblings, introducing himself to the kobold patriarchs and matriarchs who had established a settlement around his dungeon core, and even interacting with the powerful magical beasts and goblin tribes.
The Ocelot-kin treated Fable as their master, believing themselves to be his servants.
The kobolds worshipped him as a god, their devotion unwavering.
The fierce magical beasts rolled around or acted cute in his presence. While the goblins, treated Fable in a manner that made him uncomfortable, as if he were an older, extremely respected member of their family, but not a distant relative. The thought of them calling him "father" or "dada" sent a shiver down his spine, and he made a mental note to limit his interactions with them in the future.
As Fable was lost in thought, his eyes suddenly shot open as a realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. Floor Zero; the clearing that housed the great beast, or rather fabled, lake, had slipped his mind.
Still drifting on his back he quickly opened the 3D model. With a few swift gestures, he centered the view around the large, bean-shaped lake that dominated the landscape. As the image materialized, the grim scene of decaying corpses scattered along the shoreline greeted him.
"I almost forgot about that." Fable muttered to himself, his voice echoing in the vast emptiness.
Turning his attention away from the 3d model, Fable inquired, "System, before, you told me Floor 0 can only host one type of monster that is unable to rise above level 5. Is there anything else I should know?"
[Affirmative, Host. In addition, Floor 0 is unable to enjoy the benefits of the time-lapse feature, and the host is not allowed to alter the landscape due to the host's current level. The first monster created will be passive in nature but will not shy away from aggression when they are in danger or the altar is being threatened. In light of the penalties, the system is happy to inform the host that the first monster race created for Floor 0 is free.]
Fable paused, considering the system's words and wondering what type of monster he could create. A thought occurred to him, and he asked, "Wait, system, you said 'first monster.' What about adding more?"
[The Host's level is insufficient to obtain further information regarding this topic. The System wishes The Host the best in raising his level.]
Fable shrugged his shoulders at the system's response, thinking to himself that he would make an effort to increase his soul collection once Marcus' father arrived, hoping he would bring enough people to help him level up a few times.
Turning his attention back to the 3D model, Fable began to ponder. If the monster's level was limited to five, he should create a naturally weak creature. Since he couldn't use the time-lapse feature, he needed a monster with an extremely fast reproduction rate to avoid being wiped out. Additionally, since they would be forced to be passive in nature, Fable wondered what would make people refrain from killing something on sight.
His mind wandered to the magical beasts he had visited, remembering how they acted cute in front of him. Suddenly, he slammed his fist into his palm, as if to combine his realization with his earlier thoughts. "So, a weak monster, with extremely fast reproduction, passive in nature, and cute," he mused, pausing for a few seconds as he thought.
"So, a slime," Fable declared, his gaze fixed on the 3D model.
"System, I want to create a slime race, for floor 0."
[Affirmative, Host, please select your Slimes Breed Type. Please be aware that different slime breeds have different advantages and disadvantages.]
[Normal Slime, Cute Slime, Metal Slime, Aquatic Slime, Acid Slime, Light Slime, Darkness Slime, Corpse Slime, Mimic Slime, Fire Slime, Earth Slime, Silk Slime, Flower Sli…]
Fable's eyes widened as he stared at the vast array of slime options presented by the system. The sheer number of choices overwhelmed him, and he quickly waved his hand, shaking his head. "Wait, wait, wait; system stop," he exclaimed. "Why are there so many options? Just give me a small, cuteish-looking slime that is capable of evolving based on its environment or what it eats, and has a goldish magical core. You got something like that, right?"
[Negative, Host. However, it is possible for the system to create this desired breed. Would you like to proceed with its creation?]
Fable nodded, a hint of excitement in his voice. "Yeah."
[Affirmative,]
[Host, please bestow a name upon your creation.]
Fable paused, stumped by the unexpected request to name his new creation. He pondered for a moment, considering the names of other slime breeds before deciding on a simple solution. "Just call them Evo Slimes," he instructed the system.
"Affirmative. The Host has created the Evo Slime Breed as the first inhabitants of Floor 0," the system confirmed.
Suddenly, the system chimed in with an additional message. "Congratulations to the Host for creating a Core Based Race. A new section has been added to the Host's status screen."
Fable's eyes widened in surprise. "What?" he exclaimed, immediately summoning his status screen to investigate the unexpected development.
Title: Master of the Fabled Dungeon
Name: Fable Song
Age: 15
~~~~~~~~~~
Level: 1
Experience Points: 0/100
~~~~~~~~~~
Race: Dungeon Spirit
Core Type: Dungeon Core
~~~~~~~~~~
Soul Points: 0
Soul Collection: 10
~~~~~~~~~~
Core Descendant: 1
Evo Slime: 20
Fable's curiosity was piqued by the unfamiliar term. "System, what exactly are core descendants?" he asked, his voice tinged with intrigue.
The ethereal voice of the Dungeon Master System responded, its tone robotic and indifferent. "Core Descendants are core-based lifeforms that are created by the Host. In other words, The Host is equivalent to their progenitor or ancestor."
Fable mulled over this new information, his mind racing with the implications. "And what benefits does that bring?" he pressed, eager to uncover more about this intriguing concept. However, the System's response was less than satisfactory.
[The Host's level is insufficient to obtain further information regarding this topic. The System wishes The Host the best in raising his level.]
The words hung in the air, leaving Fable with more questions than answers.
Fable's mouth twitched at the system's words as he watched the slimes jumping around, exploring their new home.
The Evo Slimes were small, cuteish creatures, roughly the size of a cat or small dog. Their bodies resembled semi-transparent jelly, round and incredibly soft to the touch. Each slime had a unique color, ranging from blue, red, green, brown, purple, gold, white, and pink, with their hues sparkling faintly within their almost see-through form. At the center of each slime was a goldish magical core, serving as their life source.
As the slimes interacted with their environment, Fable observed their curious and playful nature. Some chose to investigate the rotting corpses scattered along the shoreline, their gelatinous bodies engulfing the decaying matter as they fed. Others hopped towards the water, their tiny forms creating gentle ripples as they drank from the lake.
A few decided to sunbathe, their translucent bodies glistening in the warm rays. They seemed to enjoy the sensation, their cores pulsing with a soft, contented glow. One or two bold slimes even ventured towards the edge of the forest, their bouncy movements carrying them into the unknown.
Fable's attention was drawn to a particular slime that had jumped into the water. He watched as the small creature began to sink slowly to the bottom, its body adapting to the aquatic environment. The slime's color shifted, taking on a more vivid blue hue as it descended deeper into the lake.
As Fable observed the two slimes leaving the area of Fabled Lake, he discovered that he could see within a 20-meter radius of them. This newfound ability allowed him to monitor their movements and interactions even beyond the immediate vicinity of his dungeon.
Furthermore, Fable realized that while he couldn't issue complicated commands to the slimes like he could with the magical beasts in his dungeon, he had the power to encourage certain behaviors. He could prompt them to explore, reproduce, and even use 10 soul points to direct a specific slime to attack a desired target.
***
At the gates of Duramara, an army of 7,500 stood strong, a sense of anticipation hung in the air. The soldiers, clad in gleaming armor and bearing the colors of the Blackwood family, stood at attention, their weapons at the ready. At the head of the army, Lord Tarron and Lyra sat atop two magnificent black horses, their postures proud and confident.
Lord Tarron, his eyes gleaming with amusement, glanced over at Lyra. "You look nervous, Lyra. Could it be you've never ridden a horse before?" he asked, a smirk playing across his face.
Lyra, her face flushed with embarrassment, smiled bitterly as she responded with a simple, "No."
She struggled to maintain her posture and control the horse, her movements stiff and awkward. It was as if she was putting on a show, trying to hide her inexperience.
Lord Tarron chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Even first-time riders have better control than you," he commented quietly to himself, turning his attention away from her.
Lyra, overhearing his words, stiffened slightly. She knew she was out of her element, but she refused to let it show.
As Lord Tarron stood before his assembled forces, he chose to forgo any grandiose speech or attempts to bolster their spirits. Instead, he simply declared, "Let's bring my children home," signaling the army to commence their advance.
His words, though brief, carried the weight of a father's love and determination, a sentiment that resonated with the soldiers who stood ready to follow their lord's command.
The reverberating sensation and low rumble of the ground quaking permeated the vicinity as the army set forth on their march, their footsteps pounding in unison like the beating heart of a great beast. The air thrummed with anticipation as the army moved forward, a sea of glinting armor and waving banners, united in their purpose to rescue Lord Tarron's beloved children from whatever fate had befallen them.
Two and a half days passed as the army marched forward, the sound of their footsteps and the clinking of their armor filling the air. Finally, they arrived at their destination.
However, rather than advancing into the clearing immediately, Lord Tarron ordered his army to stop a short distance away. He, Lyra, and his 25 commanders dismounted from their horses and proceeded on foot, their eyes scanning the surroundings with curiosity.
As they entered the clearing, they were greeted by a peculiar sight. Countless jelly-like creatures hopped around, their translucent bodies glistening in the sunlight. Some clung to the trees, while others bounced playfully on the ground.
Lord Tarron turned to Lyra, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What are these creatures?" he asked, gesturing towards the slimes.
Lyra shook her head, her expression equally perplexed. "I don't know either, my lord. They weren't here when I left."
'Odd,' Lord Tarron thought to himself, his mind racing with possibilities.
One of the commanders, a curious woman, approached a slime and gently poked its side. Feeling Lord Tarron's gaze upon her, she looked up at him and smiled. "They're kind of cute and don't seem to be aggressive," she remarked, picking up the slime and bringing it to Lord Tarron.
Lord Tarron removed his glove and touched the slime, his eyes widening with interest as he felt its texture. The creature was elastic, soft, and slightly slimy to the touch.
'These creatures are rather interesting,' he thought to himself.
The commander, still holding the slime, asked, "What do you think, my lord? What should we call them?"
Lord Tarron put his glove back on, pondering for a moment. "Just call them slimes, in reference to their slimy exterior," he decided. "We aren't here to classify new creatures, so that will do."
Suddenly, a painful scream pierced the air. Another commander threw the slime he was holding to the ground, clutching his finger in agony. One of his fellow commanders laughed at him, realizing he had tried to stick his hand into the slime's body to take its core.
A couple of commanders shook their heads disapprovingly as they continued to walk forward, informing Lord Blackwood that they would take a closer look at the alter in the distance.
Lord Tarron nodded in acknowledgment, his attention momentarily diverted as another commander proceeded to remove his partially melted gauntlet and bandage his hand.
After the group had entered the clearing, they noticed that the area was teeming with slimes, a old wooden sign, and the altar that stood prominently in the center, but curiously, there were no corpses to be seen.
Lord Tarron turned to Lyra, his expression puzzled. "What about the missing corpses? You said they were here when you left six days ago."
Lyra nodded, equally confused. "They were, my lord. It's strange that they're gone now."
Lord Tarron muttered, "This is really odd," as he wondered to himself if the slims had anything to do with the disappearance of the corpses.
Turning his attention to a wooden sign written in an unknown language. Yet, somehow, he could understand its meaning. "Fabled Lake," he whispered to himself.
Turning to the nearest commander, Lord Tarron issued his orders. "Instruct the army to proceed with fortifying the area and setting up camp."
The commander saluted, responding with a crisp, "Understood, sir," before turning to leave.
After a moment's pause, Lord Tarron called out to the commander once more. "And tell the soldiers not to harm the slimes, so long as they don't attack first."
As the words left his mouth, Lord Tarron looked up at the trees, a smile playing across his face. He turned around and walked away.
***
In the heart of the kobold settlement of Little Sapphire Flame, an ancient ritual unfolded, steeped in tradition and the fervent devotion of the kobold clans.
The air thrummed with the deep, rhythmic pounding of drums, their reverberations echoing through the cavernous space like the heartbeat of the mountain itself. More than three thousand young kobolds prostrated themselves before five towering statues, their faces a seamless blend of lizard and canine features.
At the base of each statue stood a large bowl, gleaming in the flickering light of the torches that lined the settlement's walls. The young kobolds, their scales shimmering with the hues of the earth and precious gems, bowed their heads in reverence, their tails twitching with anticipation as they awaited the commencement of the sacred rite.
Encircling the settlement's edge, thousands of adult kobolds stood at attention, their stone spears tipped with gleaming metal points. They chanted in unison, their voices rising and falling in a hypnotic cadence, punctuated by the sharp hissing of their clansmen. The air crackled with energy, a palpable sense of anticipation that permeated every corner of the cavern.
As if guided by an unseen force, five drops of water fell from the ceiling, each one landing in a separate bowl with perfect synchronicity. The moment the droplets touched the surface of the water, a single kobold barked loudly, his voice cutting through the chanting like a knife through silk.
The sound was immediately followed by a deafening boom as thousands of kobolds slammed their spears against the ground in perfect unison, the impact sending tremors through the stone beneath their feet.
From behind the middle statue, the Great Shaman emerged, a figure cloaked in the bones of fallen magical beasts. He wielded a wooden staff topped with a goblin's skull, serving as a trophy from his past battles.
The ancient kobold moved with a hunched gait, his body bent by the passage of time, yet an aura of power radiated from his very being. As he crept forward, the surrounding kobolds slammed their spears once more, the boom echoing through the chamber.
The Great Shaman took a few more steps, then straightened his body, raising his staff high; with a final, mighty slam of his staff against the ground, perfectly timed with the spears of the gathered kobolds, a powerful gust of wind swept outward from the solitary figure. Dust and dirt swirled in the air current's wake, pushed to the outer rim of the settlement. As the wind passed the kneeling kobolds at the edge, they lowered their heads in reverence, releasing a quiet hissing sound that rippled through the area like a whispered prayer.
The Great Shaman paused, his eyes sweeping over the prostrated younglings before him. Then, in a series of barks and low hisses, he began to speak, his voice filled with encouragement and wisdom.
"The Great Spirits and our Great Creator watch over you, so rejoice! For after the coming of age ceremony, you will no longer be the weak younglings who must be protected," the Great Shaman declared, punctuating his words with a resounding slam of his staff against the floor.
"Rejoice! For once you are no longer younglings, you can hold treasures and will gain your own weapons and recognition!" The Great Shaman's voice echoed through the settlement, his words igniting a fire in the hearts of the young kobolds. He paused briefly, his gaze scanning the prostrated forms before him, before continuing, "And with recognition, the Great Spirits and the Great Creator will bless you!"
As his words faded, more than three thousand adult kobolds stepped forward, each taking a position beside a young kobold. The Great Shaman's voice rang out once more, "Now rise, claim your weapon, and show the Great Ones that you are worthy to be our clansmen!"
With a final slam of his staff, the Great Shaman sent three echoing thuds reverberating through the settlement. At this signal, the young kobolds rose to their feet, their eyes shining with determination and pride. They turned to their chosen guardians, who held out stone spears horizontally in both hands, as a sacred offering to the next generation.
The young kobolds bowed their heads, accepting the spears with reverence, their hands gripping the shafts with a newfound sense of purpose. As the guardians stepped back, the young warriors turned to face the Great Shaman once more, awaiting his final blessing.
With a nod from the ancient kobold, the younglings lowered the butts of their spears to the ground, ready to embark on the journey that would forge them into true members of the clan.
A smile creased the Great Shaman's weathered face as he barked out one last time, his voice filled with pride and conviction, "For the Great Spirits, for the Great Creator..."
In a single, powerful motion, the young kobolds raised their spears high, then slammed them down in unison, their voices rising in a mighty chorus, "For the Clan!"
The resounding boom marked the beginning of the kobold coming of age ceremony, a sacred rite that would test the mettle of the young warriors and bind them forever to the traditions and glory of their people.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
Perishable_Heaven
Perishable_Heaven Here's the release schedule:
Monday @ 10pm - 11pm E.S.T
Wednesday @ 10pm - 11pm E.S.T
Friday @ 5pm - 10pm E.S.T
3 Bonus Chapters on June 9th.
***
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