Aiden blinked, the slime surface of his body rippling slightly as he processed Ederra's request.
"Wait…" he said slowly, "You want me to forge weapons and armour?"
Ederra nodded, resting his hand on the sword's hilt. "If you can refine herbs beyond what our alchemists can do, then it stands to reason you can refine metal too. The Magisteel you brought us—it's tougher than anything we've mined or smelted. If you can shape it, we can arm a whole legion."
Radomira, lounging nearby with her tail swaying lazily, smirked. "My, my… making the slime work double shifts already?"
Ederra ignored her and continued, eyes locked on Aiden. "We need to be ready for what's coming. Even with the war in a standstill, a temporary peace, but now we both know peace won't last long. If we want to rebuild, we'll need equipment strong enough to outlast the next conflict."
Aiden folded his arms, his form shifting into a more humanoid outline. "Alright, I get the logic. But forging Magisteel isn't simple. I'd need the right temperature, precision control of mana flow, and—"
He paused, a small smirk forming. "—or I could just eat it."
Ederra blinked. "...What?"
Radomira chuckled darkly. "Oh, you sweet mortal. You haven't seen him craft yet."
Aiden tapped his chest. "Predator skill. I absorb, analyse, and restructure. Give me the raw Magisteel, and I can produce refined ingots—perfectly balanced and saturated with mana. Might even throw in a few enchantments if I'm feeling creative."
Ederra crossed his arms, thoughtful. "And you can do this safely?"
Aiden grinned. "Safely? No promises. Effectively? Absolutely."
Emilia sighed from nearby, muttering under her breath. "...And this is why we can't have normal mornings."
Radomira giggled. "Normal is overrated, darling."
Aiden looked at the pile of Magisteel in the corner of the forge tent, his eyes glowing faintly. "Alright then. Let's see if I can turn this into something worthy of the gods."
Aiden Body looked at Emilia. "Quick question, does Volt Army have something like Magisteel Weapons"
Emilia shaker her head as she spoke. "No, the only thing that comes close is Volt, Buster Sword".
Aiden then made an evil green, or the slime version of it. "Will, now that's even better".
Ederra felt a chill run down his spine as Aiden's body pulsed with a dark yellow glow, the air crackling faintly with mana.
Emilia frowned. "Why is that better?"
Aiden's grin widened, his face bubbling with excitement. "Because if they don't have Magisteel, that means their weapons will melt the moment mine hit them. And Volts, Buster Sword?" His slim hand shifted, forming a blade-like edge humming with energy. "I'll make something that slices it in half."
Radomira smirked, tail flicking. "Oh, my sweet little monster is getting creative again."
Aiden's voice rumbled playfully. "Not creative—vengeful."
Emilia looked at him as she spoke. "You are terrifying".
Aiden's slime form shimmered, his glowing green eyes narrowing in amusement. "I'll take that as a compliment," he said, his tone light but carrying a faint edge of menace.
Ederra chuckled dryly. "Remind me never to make you angry."
Radomira leaned against Aiden, resting her head on his slim shoulder with a proud smile. "Too late for that. He's already planning to give Volt nightmares for generations."
Emilia sighed, rubbing her temples. "Great… a slime that makes potions, weapons, and psychological warfare."
Aiden gave a teasing shrug. "Hey, I call it efficient multitasking."
Aiden's body started to move, as he pulled out a sword, his Green colour turning back to normal yellow.
Ederra grabbed the Magic Steel Sword, and then swung with a normal Sword, as the normal sword broke easily.
Ederra blinked, staring at the shattered remains of the normal blade in disbelief. The clang still echoed faintly through the camp.
He then looked down at the Magisteel sword in his hand — perfectly intact, humming faintly with energy. "By the Goddess…" he muttered, tightening his grip. "It didn't even chip."
Aiden crossed his slimy arms proudly. "Of course it didn't. That's not just Magisteel — that's refined Magisteel, fused with elemental reinforcement. It's lighter, sharper, and regenerates minor cracks on its own."
Radomira grinned, tail swaying lazily. "So… in short, you just made a sword that can slice through anything and heals itself. Darling, are you sure you're not trying to dethrone the blacksmith gods too?"
Emilia, still processing the sight, muttered under her breath, "And here I thought the slime's alchemy was scary…"
Ederra lifted the weapon again, feeling its perfect balance. "With these… Volt's army won't even have time to scream."
Aiden's yellow glow pulsed faintly brighter, his voice low but satisfied. "That's the idea."
Aiden moved toward the forge area of the camp, his slime body glowing with faint golden veins as streams of magic energy coursed through him. Piles of Magisteel ore were stacked in front of him—dull gray blocks that shimmered faintly when touched by mana.
Ederra, Emilia, and several blacksmiths gathered around, watching with awe and a touch of apprehension.
"Alright," Aiden said, cracking what would've been his knuckles if he had any. "Let's make some miracles happen."
He extended his arm, his slime hand melting into a small pool that slithered toward the metal. The moment it touched the ore, it began to dissolve—cleanly, perfectly—like sugar in water. A faint humming filled the tent, as the air shimmered from the mana reacting.
Radomira watched with amusement as his body shifted colors—yellow to silver to deep gold—before shaping into several perfect molds. "He's enjoying this way too much," she whispered with a smirk.
A few moments later, the first blade rose from the glowing puddle—a longsword so polished it reflected the entire tent, etched with faint runes along its edge. Then came a shield, circular and reinforced with mana channels running through it like veins of light.
Aiden handed them to the nearby blacksmiths. "This batch is for your frontline. Lightweight, durable, mana-conductive. Even a mid-tier mage could channel spells through these."
The blacksmiths looked stunned, one of them whispering, "This… this could change everything."
Aiden's form rippled with amusement. "That's the idea. Oh, and for your archers—"
He gestured again, and several bows began forming from liquid metal mixed with wood essence. The strings gleamed with condensed mana threads.
"Mana bows," Aiden said proudly. "Draw strength from the user's energy, not their arms. Fire arrows of pure force or elemental energy depending on the user's affinity."
Ederra chuckled, impressed beyond words. "You're not just arming a camp—you're building a kingdom."
Aiden looked around at the soldiers, now gathering to see the glowing weapons forming from his slime forge. "Then let's make sure it's one that doesn't fall again."
The camp echoed with the rhythmic hum of magic and metal, and for the first time in years, Emilia's soldiers looked at their armory not with despair—but with hope.
Aiden looked at them as he spoke. "So now"
Later that night, as it was a small city, the Flag of the Black Dog was waving in the sky.
The Black Dog camp was alive with cruel laughter and the clatter of mugs against metal tables. Bonfires crackled, casting an orange glow over tents marked with the snarling emblem of the Volt mercenaries. The air stank of ale, sweat, and arrogance.
Men and beastkin alike bellowed drunken songs, their voices slurred, their joy sickening. In the cages nearby, women lay motionless — bruised, broken, stripped of dignity. Some wept quietly, others simply stared at the fire with empty eyes.
To these soldiers, morality was an afterthought — an old fairy tale that no longer existed.
Then came the faint echo of hooves.
Clop.
Clop.
Clop.
It grew louder — steady, deliberate, unnatural in its rhythm. A few guards outside frowned, fumbling for their weapons.
"Oi, someone's out there?" one muttered, squinting into the darkness.
An arrow whistled through the night and buried itself in his neck with a wet crunch.
He collapsed before he could scream.
The others barely had time to react before more arrows rained down — precise, deadly. In the span of ten seconds, five more were down.
The laughter stopped. The fires still crackled, but the air had gone deathly still.
Then a massive shadow appeared just beyond the firelight — a figure on horseback, cloaked in darkness.
A deep, distorted voice carried through the night.
"Volt Dogs… enjoying yourselves, I see."
The soldiers raised their weapons, shouting. "Who the hell—"
The next instant, the bonfires erupted into black and blue flame. From behind the shadowed rider came several glowing eyes — wolves, large as horses, their fur rippling with ethereal fire.
One soldier took a terrified step back. "W-Wait… that's not a man—!"
The figure raised his hand.
Lightning fell from the sky.
It tore through the center of the camp, sending tents flying and soldiers screaming. Chains snapped open as the cages melted from the heat. The enslaved women shielded their eyes — and when they looked again, the monsters were gone.
Only the shadows of wolves and a man-shaped silhouette of light remained.
Aiden's voice echoed, low and cold:
"Fenrir. Leave none alive."
The night was drowned in howls.
Aiden's slime form rippled, eyes glowing faintly as he glanced down at his three small companions — the baby monsters watching the chaos with curious, hungry eyes.
"Go on," he said softly, his tone more command than suggestion. "Eat… and grow strong."
Noivern shrieked excitedly, wings spreading as it dove into the fray. Anansi's eyes gleamed with hunger as her web threads glistened under the moonlight, while the tiny Jörmungandr slithered across the dirt, scales glowing faintly blue as it grew with every corpse it consumed.
The battlefield quickly turned into a macabre feeding ground — the shrieks of dying mercenaries drowned by the crackle of flames and the low, wet sounds of devouring.
Aiden simply watched. His expression was unreadable — not cruel, not gleeful… just calm. Purposeful.
On the opposite side of the ruined camp, a few Volt soldiers managed to break through the chaos, running through the dark forest with ragged breaths.
"Keep moving! Keep mov—"
Schlkk!
One stopped mid-sentence as his head slipped cleanly from his shoulders, rolling into the dirt. The others froze, trembling, as heavy footsteps echoed through the mist.
Ederra emerged from the shadows, his greatsword resting casually on his shoulder, the moonlight gleaming across its edge. His expression was unreadable — a mixture of exhaustion and fury.
He tilted his head slightly, voice low and grim.
"Now… where do you think you're all running off to?"
The surviving Volt soldiers stumbled back, some dropping their weapons.
Ederra's tone darkened as he slammed the greatsword into the ground, the shockwave cracking the earth.
"You made my sister bleed. You burned my people. You thought the gods wouldn't answer?"
He raised the sword again, his voice carrying over the distant howls of Fenrir's pack.
"Well… the gods answered."
And with that, he charged — the forest filling with the sound of steel, screams, and vengeance made flesh.
Blood sprayed across the mud as Ederra's greatsword cut through another Volt soldier like parchment.
One of the terrified men stumbled back, eyes wide as he screamed, "Wait—he's alive!? I thought the injury he got would've killed him!"
The last thing he saw was the gleam of steel and Ederra's cold, unblinking eyes before his head hit the ground.
Ederra didn't even slow down. His sword, still dripping crimson, hummed with magic as he swung it in a wide arc, cleaving two more soldiers in half.
Several Volt mages scrambled to regroup, chanting desperately as orbs of fire and lightning gathered in their palms.
"Fireball!"
"Thunder—"
Their spells never finished. Ederra planted his foot into the earth, dragging up the Magi Steel shield Aiden had forged for him earlier. The barrier flared with azure light as it absorbed the blasts, the runes along its edge glowing brighter—then backfired.
The magic surged outward in a concussive wave, engulfing the mages in their own flames.
When the smoke cleared, only Ederra stood.
He strode forward, dragging his sword across the ground, sparks hissing in his wake. The few survivors fell to their knees, trembling.
Ederra's gaze was sharp, merciless. "You dogs spent your lives tormenting the weak… now you'll die without honor."
He kicked one man so hard his head snapped clean off, the body collapsing lifelessly.
Then, as silence settled over the field and the crackle of fire filled the air, Ederra rested his blade on his shoulder and looked toward the horizon.
His voice was low, almost to himself.
"This isn't mercy. This is balance."
To be continued
Hope people like this ch and give me power stones and enjoy