The Great Forest breathed in rhythm with the season. Morning mists clung to the underbrush, dew sparkling like stars scattered across leaves. Birds called in the distance, their notes rising and falling in melodies older than kingdoms.
And in the heart of that ancient rhythm, life pulsed differently now.
The village—Luminus's village—was no longer a scattered camp. A wall of sharpened stakes enclosed the homes. Watchtowers, rough but tall, gave goblin scouts vantage over the treeline. Within, smoke rose from orderly cookfires. Goblins carried baskets of berries, wolves returned from patrols with fresh game, and children laughed as they played near the riverbank, always under the eyes of watchful elders.
It was, for the first time, beginning to look less like a survival camp… and more like a community.
...
Kairn's voice boomed across the clearing. "Shields up! Hold the line!"
A squad of goblins locked their wooden shields together. Kairn struck at them with a staff, barking orders as they grunted and strained to hold formation.
Luminus watched from the side, arms crossed in his humanoid form. He noted how the goblins no longer cowered when struck. Their eyes were focused, their stance firm. They weren't warriors yet—but they were no longer prey either.
"Progress is good," Luminus murmured.
Beside him, Tarin nodded, adjusting the bow in his hand. "They learn fast. Fear makes the best teacher, but pride makes the best student. They want to defend this place because it's theirs."
"And because it's yours," Mira added softly from the other side. She was weaving new banners from dyed bark fibers—symbols of unity to raise over the village.
Luminus shook his head. "It's ours. Every one of us."
Yet inside, he felt the heavy weight of responsibility. If this fails… it will be because of me.
....
Later that day, Rugo led the wolf pack into the central square. The villagers gathered nervously, as not long ago these very wolves had been their nightmare. But Rugo stepped forward, massive and proud, his fur shimmering silver under the sun.
He bowed his great head toward Luminus.
"My kin have hunted these woods for generations. Alone, we thrived, but also suffered. Today, we stand not only as beasts… but as guardians. We swear by tooth and claw to defend this village."
A ripple of awe passed through the goblins.
Luminus inclined his head, humbled. "Then we are kin by choice, not by chance. As long as I draw breath, your pack will never go hungry."
Rugo's wolves howled in unison, the sound rolling like thunder through the trees. The goblins clutched each other, trembling not with fear—but with exhilaration. They had allies. Real allies.
.....
That night, as the fires burned low, Mira found Luminus staring into the flames.
"You don't rest," she said gently.
"I don't need sleep like you do," he replied, though it wasn't the whole truth. Slimes didn't sleep—but he did need stillness, moments of retreat to digest energy and memories.
"What troubles you?" she asked, sitting beside him.
Luminus hesitated, then spoke. "This peace feels fragile. Like glass stretched too thin. The harder we work to build, the more it feels like someone will shatter it."
Mira was silent for a while, then laid a hand on his shoulder. "Then we make it strong enough that even if it cracks, it will not break."
Her words warmed him more than the fire.
Meanwhile, in Brindel…
The subjugation quest spread like wildfire. Adventurers boasted in taverns, sharpening swords and whispering of easy gold. Most had no idea what they were walking into; a few sensed danger but were drawn anyway by the promise of glory.
Elira watched with growing dread. Her party had accepted the quest. She could not dissuade them.
He wasn't evil, she thought desperately. He was… curious. Kind, even.
But her words carried no weight against greed. And so she sat alone in the guildhall corner, praying to whatever gods still listened that her instincts were not wrong—that the slime in the forest could somehow survive the tide about to descend.
.....
Days passed. The forest whispered of strangers at its edges, though none yet approached the heart.
Luminus used the time well.
With Tarin, he refined arrowheads, infusing them with hardened slime to pierce armor.
With Mira, he helped dye cloth into banners, symbols of unity to rally morale.
With Kairn, he tested battle strategies—shield walls, ambush lines, retreat signals.
With Rugo, he set patrols to circle wider and wider rings around the settlement.
It was grueling, endless work. Yet the goblins smiled more often now. They looked at Luminus not with fear, but with trust. Some even began carving crude wooden figurines in his likeness—a round blob with wide, shining eyes.
He laughed when he first saw one. "I don't look like that!"
The children only grinned. "Chief Luminus always shines!"
Their laughter carried into the night.
,...
One evening, the leaders gathered again by the fire. Kairn, Mira, Tarin, Rugo—and several elders of the goblins.
"The wolves say scouts smell steel near the western ridge," Tarin reported grimly. "Not ours. Human."
Kairn slammed his fist into his palm. "Let them come. We'll show them monsters can bleed less than men!"
"Do not be reckless," Mira warned. "If they are many, we cannot fight them head on."
The goblin elder, stooped and wrinkled, raised his voice with effort. "We… are grateful for all you've done. But if humans come, they will not see us as people. Only as beasts to slay. Chief Luminus… do you truly believe peace is possible?"
Every eye turned to him.
Luminus looked into the fire. His heart weighed heavy.
"Peace is fragile," he admitted. "And humans may never accept us. But I believe it's worth trying. Because if we fight blindly, we'll drown in blood. But if even one human can see us as more than monsters… then we'll have planted a seed that could grow."
His words silenced the circle. Some looked doubtful. Some looked hopeful. But all felt the conviction in his voice.
At last, Rugo spoke. "Then we fight only when there is no choice. Until then, we prepare. If peace fails… war will find us ready."
....
That night, alone by the river, Luminus let his slime body relax, drifting into formlessness. Stars shimmered on the surface of his liquid self.
He thought of his old life. The gray cubicle walls, the endless days, the lonely nights. Nobody had depended on him then. Nobody had believed in him.
Here, every face in the village looked to him with hope. Every heartbeat trusted him to guide them.
He clenched inside, feeling a strange heat. I won't let it be stolen again. Not this time.
Far above, the stars wheeled silently. But in the rhythm of the forest, it almost felt like the world was listening.
Meanwhile, far beyond the forest…
The cloaked messenger returned to his master. He knelt, offering a report written in neat, precise script.
"The slime is real. It leads not only goblins, but wolves. The settlement grows faster than expected."
The master, hidden in shadow, tapped the parchment with one long finger. His lips curled into a cruel smile.
"Then let the adventurers bleed first. If it survives, we will know its worth. If it dies, the matter ends."
And so the game continued, pieces moving unseen across the board.