The split arc of steaming mucus descending like a closing jaw. For Melvin, time was against him as there was no space left to dodge the attack.
The wide crescent of translucent slime hissed as it devoured the air. Even if he threw himself backward, it would catch him mid-fall. If he rolled, it would coat him whole.
Left with no other option, Melvin did the only insane thing that came to his mind.
He began to slash the Aftertick furiously through the air in a frantic, elegant motion.
Once, twice, five times in rapid succession, the tip of the whip cracked through the steaming mucus, splitting it apart. Each strike slicing through the arc, dispersing it before it could close around him.
Soon, the air filled with sizzling droplets of severed mucus, scattering and slapping against the marble floor in wet, corrosive splatters.
However, Melvin wasn't left unscathed. His insane action had only saved him from being contaminated with most of the steaming mucus.
A portion of the boiling slime had rained down on him, striking some parts of his shoulder, rolling down his thigh, and… good enough, his arms weren't hurt much by the boiling mucus.
The pain caused by the mucus jerked Melvin into reality as he screamed. His skin blistered instantly. The scent of scorched cloth and flesh filled the air around him, twisting his stomach into a churn.
Worse still, Aftertick was not a sword but a whip. And this was his first time wielding one.
Hence, as Melvin sliced the slime, the whip's violent recoil snapped back at him. The tip curved unpredictably, kissing his forearm and calf and hurting some parts of his side.
Thin red lines opened where Aftertick had struck him. The strain from wielding the weapon tore at his palms. His fingers burned from gripping onto it too tightly. His wrists throbbed from the wild swings.
In all, Melvin was currently the full embodiment of pain.
Gritting his teeth in endurance, he staggered backward, and the worst happened—the poor lad slipped on the spilled mucus and fell. His back hit marble slick with steaming residue. His injured knee even scraped further through it.
'Curses!'
The pain Melvin felt evolved into a flaring agony. But he knew that relenting was even going to put him further at the edge of losing his life. It was better not to find out how to completely become prey to the massive abomination.
With this thought that was meant to serve as encouragement, he bit down hard enough to taste blood and forced himself to move. Crawling through the spilled mucus, enduring every slice of pain caused by it.
The sea slug shifted behind him, its massive base-like body dragging across the hall with a wet grinding sound.
Melvin crawled through the stinging vapor, dragging his body towards the nearest pillar. As soon as he reached the pillar on his left, he shifted behind it and pressed his back against it, breathing raggedly.
The lanterns mounted along the stone pillars flickered to life, just like those lighting up the main passageway of the hall. Green light bloomed across the passage.
It was a side passage, narrow enough to restrict something massive. Windows lined the walls at the end of the passage, their frames reinforced with iron bars.
And just relative to where Melvin was resting, directly below a window, was a cart.
It was chained heavily to the iron bars of the windows, thick links binding it in place. The cart's wooden body was aged but still intact.
Inside the cart was a full stack of coarse white powder, piled so high that it formed a triangular shape over the cart.
Melvin's gaze dropped to the stem of the cart. There was a faded inscription that was still readable.
"Rock Salt," Melvin muttered with gritted teeth. Then, suddenly, he let out a broken laugh that soon caused more pain to course through his body.
Having discerned this substance, he looked behind him and saw the sea slug shifting consistently. It was searching for him.
Melvin's laugh had attracted the abomination. Hence, its antennae twitched. Its helmet-like head slowly turned and looked at him.
The dark openings across the creature's head seemed to narrow. Its massive body began to drag forward.
With sudden grim determination in Melvin's eyes, he stared at the approaching creature for a while and mused, 'Of course, your end will never be simple.'
Then, cursing under his breath, he forced himself upright. His legs trembled violently, threatening to give out, but he supported himself with his free hand and began to stagger toward the cart.
Every step he took felt like stepping on fire.
On the other hand, the slug accelerated its motion once it had clarified the view of its prey. Its bulk base surged forward with terrifying speed—far too fast for something that size.
Soon, it reached the gap between the pillars and stopped. Its bloated mass wedged between stone columns. The passage was too narrow.
For a split second, hope flickered off for the creature. Is that how its prey would be saved?
No, there were other alternatives that made it advantageous against the rodent-looking lad.
Its arms extended, and the limb shot forward unnaturally, stretching like molten wax pulled thin. It crossed the distance instantly.
Melvin turned in the last moment, facing the monstrosity, and tried to dodge. But his body refused.
The limbs caught him around the torso, causing air to explode from his lungs as he opened his mouth in pain towards the ceiling. With the same momentum, he was lifted off the ground and currently stopped mid-air.
Melvin lowered his head and stared back into the dark openings of the creature. As far as he was still alive, he must be struggling to survive.
'I must survive!'
His legs kicked uselessly in the air as the creature reeled him in and stopped again as if contemplating how best to end its prey's life.
Melvin continued to kick uselessly in the air, grabbing at the gelatinous, hot, and slick wrist of the monstrosity.
If he tried to pry himself free, he would lose more of his drained strength faster than it would.
Just then, a thought flashed in his mind.
He released his left hand from his grip on the slug's wrist and summoned Aftertick once again. Then, lowered it down to dip into the stock of salt.
Without wasting more time, and without caring what might happen if he doesn't wield the whip better this time, he swung the weapon.
The whip cracked across the creature's wrist, but nothing seemed to happen. The slug didn't flinch either to show it felt pain.
With desperation in his eyes, Melvin swung again. Again. And again.
Good enough, each strike landed precisely on the same point of the slug's wrist.
'Could this be the theory is incorrect?'
Just as he thought, his vision blurred from pain, and his grip weakened.
However, the creature, after absorbing the poor lad's attack, seemed to have concluded on the best way to end its prey.
Behind the slick body of the creature, one of the wing-like appendages rose.
Melvin's eyes widened on seeing this, remembering how it had cleanly sliced through the stone pillars.
'Oh, my—'
The wing-like appendage that had risen swept across the floor with devastating speed, gathering inhuman momentum as the marble dust lifted in its wake.
All these… all that was happening ever since occurred within fractions of seconds.
Having risen and targeting the poor lad's head, the appendage descended.
The world narrowed in Melvin's eyes.
'This is my end after all,' he mused.
But one thing he had forgotten to concrete into his memory was the description used to tell his weapon. That was what—
A thin line appeared along the wrist of the slug holding him. Then, it widened and severed.
The first mark he had struck split open as the limb tore free at the exact point of his earliest strike, causing the extended hand to lose tension instantly.
Melvin fell.
The severed limb collapsed to the floor with a wet, heavy sound. And for the first time, the sea slug let out a sudden, loud, screeching sound that shouldn't belong to it.
'Weird,' Melvin surmised, and a wide grin appeared on his lips.
Just then, salt exploded upward in a white cloud as a limp body crashed into it. And more pain flared.