The office air felt different today. It wasn't the smell of coffee or toner or that old leather couch in the corner of the meeting room. It was something else — the feeling of motion, like gears finally turning after being stuck for years.
For the first time since arriving in this world, I felt truly awake.
Two days ago, my father Daniel Walker gave me a chance — a wild chance — to create a pilot episode for a new kind of animated series. He had no idea the kind of blueprint I was carrying in my head. "Rebirth: The Legend of a Slime King" was what I called it. To everyone else, it would be an original fantasy. To me, it was a revival of something dear that once defined my old world.
The plan was simple: Build a pilot episode. Get it done in two to three weeks. Show him and the board that this old studio wasn't just worth saving — it could lead a revolution.
Now, all I needed… was a team.
---
The Meeting Room
The morning sun filtered through the slanted blinds of the meeting room. A whiteboard stood by the wall, blank but ready. My laptop hummed quietly next to a pile of rough sketches I'd spent all night drawing.
I paced near the window, checking the time. 8:57 AM.
At exactly 9:00 AM, they started walking in.
First came Jade, the sharp-tongued art director who had survived the 2000s anime boom the studio once dabbled in. Her black jacket and sketchpad were as worn as her sarcasm.
Then Carlos, a CGI generalist with a nerd's brain and a sense of timing that only ever worked for rendering software.
Third was Ava, quiet but brilliant — a color designer and compositor with a photographic memory. She didn't talk much, but her presence always felt steadying.
And finally, Ethan, a fresh graduate from USC Film who joined the studio three months ago. His hair was unkempt and he carried two cups of coffee, one of which he promptly spilled on his notes.
"This the team?" Jade asked, not bothering to sit down.
I nodded. "This is it."
"No one else?" Carlos asked, blinking. "We're four people making a full pilot?"
"Five," I corrected him, raising my hand. "I'm directing and writing."
Jade sighed. "Alright, Slime King. Impress us."
---
The Blueprint
I passed around copies of a 10-page outline I had written up the night before — a clean, no-nonsense treatment of the pilot episode's concept.
The premise was simple: A man dies and wakes up in another body — but not just any body. He's been reborn as a slime in a mysterious world filled with monsters and ancient forces. In his new life, he learns to grow, evolve, and become more than he ever thought possible.
"This isn't your average power fantasy," I told them. "There's heart in this story. Humor, too. The protagonist — who we'll name Rimuru — is easygoing, but adaptable. The kind of character who changes the people and world around him just by existing."
"Rimuru?" Ava finally spoke up. "Sounds... exotic."
"It's supposed to," I replied. "The world we're creating is completely original. I want names that feel slightly strange to our audience — like they belong in another world. It sticks in your mind."
Jade nodded slowly. "Alright, and what's this first episode going to cover?"
I clicked on the projector. A rough storyboard appeared.
---
Episode One: The Awakening
Opening scene: A man in his thirties — a corporate worker — walks the streets of a cold city. Tired. Isolated. He's reflecting on how repetitive and empty his life has become.
Sudden incident: A violent robbery. He's stabbed while trying to protect someone else. In his final moments, his mind floods with random thoughts — heat resistance, language comprehension, things that make no sense.
Fade to black.
Next scene: Darkness. He wakes in an unfamiliar place. No limbs. No voice. Everything feels different.
"I want to do this in first-person at first," I explained. "No visuals of the body. Just his perspective — confusion, panic, curiosity."
"And then?" Ethan asked, now sipping from his only remaining cup of coffee.
"Then we show the new world through his eyes. He learns to move. Absorb things. Mimic. Analyze. The environment becomes his first challenge. Until…"
I clicked the remote.
Final scene of the episode: A massive sealed cave. A presence looms in the darkness. The slime — now able to sense through 'magic perception' — see a legendary creature.
Cue dramatic pause.
"AHHHHHHHHH" Slime screems top of his lung, which I hope he had. Right?
End of episode one.
Carlos sat back. "Damn. You're serious about this."
"I am," I said. "And we need to get started now."
---
The Studio Floor
We moved from the meeting room to the main production area — a high-ceilinged floor lined with editing bays, animation tablets, and two full-size recording booths. The place looked dusty, but it wasn't broken. Just… underused.
This was one of the last true animation studios in Los Angeles that hadn't fully transitioned to outsourced work. My father held onto it because he believed, somewhere deep down, that stories could still be made here.
Today, we were going to prove it.
Ava and Carlos set up a shared workspace for digital painting and VFX planning. Ethan brought out script software and started breaking the outline into smaller beats. Jade began sketching character designs based on my rough drafts.
We argued a lot that day. Over everything.
But we kept going. Every argument ended with a better idea. Every disagreement sharpened the vision.
---
By lunch, we had a rough animatic of the first 30 seconds. Rimuru's perspective as he woke up in darkness — black screen, shifting textures, eerie audio cues. Ava had already chosen a haunting blue gradient to symbolize magic perception.
By evening, we had built a test scene: a cavern filled with glowing crystals, shifting shadows, and one massive, animated silhouette in the distance — the sealed Storm Dragon.
Veldora.
Jade's design for him was perfect: ancient, majestic, lonely.
"The shading took three layers," she muttered, chewing on a pencil. "But he looks like something you'd see on a cathedral wall. Regal. Angry."
"That's exactly how he should feel," I said. "He's been sealed for centuries. And yet… he's the first real friend Rimuru will ever have."
---
It was 9:46 PM when we finished the last frame of the pilot.
A 45-second montage ending with Rimuru — now more conscious of his body and power — floating before the prison of a dragon whose voice he can finally hear thanks to Magic Sense.
The magic effects sparkled. The music, even though it was temp-track royalty-free stuff, swelled perfectly.
And for a moment, none of us spoke.
Carlos finally broke the silence. "So… are we gonna survive this?"
I smiled.
"If we do it right… we won't just survive. We'll rebuild this studio from the ground up."