Beast Evolution Forge - Chapter 177

Chapter 177: Slimes 2
[Master, that a nuclear slime, it gives out huge bursts of mana, very dangerous.]

Vell got back on his feet, wiping blood from his mouth, “you don’t say.”

The tiny slime pulsed with energy, its blue and pink halves swirling together as it bounced excitedly. Each movement released another wave of mana that rippled through the chamber.

“Nuclear slime,” he muttered, keeping his distance now. “Should have recognized the pattern.” He steadied himself against the wall, wincing as his cracked ribs began to heal. The force of the blast had caught him completely off guard.

[They’re rare. Most adventurers don’t survive encountering one to document it.]

It bounced again, sending another, smaller pulse of energy across the floor. This time, he was ready, absorbing some of the impact with his own mana shield.

“It’s not attacking deliberately,” he observed. “Just leaking energy it can’t control.” The realization made him pause. Despite the pain, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for the creature.

[What are you thinking?] Her tone was cautious, knowing him too well.

He sighed, watching the slime wobble uncertainly. “It reminds me of them. Before they learned control.”

The nuclear slime inched closer, leaving a trail of glowing residue. Each step released another small burst of energy, but he remained still, carefully gauging the pattern.

“The bursts are getting weaker,” he noted. “It’s exhausting itself.”

[Or gathering energy for something bigger. We should eliminate it now.]

He hesitated, his hand on his katana. The little creature trembled, its colors shifting faster as it sensed his intent.

“No,” he decided finally. “I’ll contain it instead.” He reached into his pouch and pulled out a specialized container. The crystal jar had runes etched along its surface.

‘It’s about time I used this thing.’

[You’re being sentimental.] Her voice carried a note of concern. [It’s dangerous.]

“So am I,” he replied simply, approaching the slime with slow, measured steps. He opened the container, its runes glowing as they activated. “Easy now, little one.”

It pulsed once more, a weak wave that barely reached him. It seemed to recognize the container, or at least sense its purpose. After a moment’s hesitation, it hopped forward and slipped inside.

He sealed the jar quickly, watching as the runes flared brightly, containing the its energy bursts within. Through the crystal, he could see the creature settling, its colors stabilizing.

“There,” he said, securing the container in his pack. “Problem solved.”

[You’re keeping it?]

“For now,” he admitted. “Maybe I can train it. Or study it, at least.” He looked around the chamber, now empty except for the scattered remains of his battle. “Let’s move on. There’s still more of this dungeon to clear.”

He moved toward the next passageway, his steps more measured than before. The encounter with the nuclear slime had drained him more than he wanted to admit, both physically and emotionally.

The tunnel narrowed as he descended deeper, the air growing thicker with moisture. The walls here were lined with a phosphorescent fungus that cast everything in a pale blue glow, making his summoned light unnecessary.

“This is different,” he murmured, touching one of the glowing patches cautiously. “The ecosystem is changing.”

[Be careful. Where there’s fungus, there are usually…]

“Spores,” he finished, just as a cloud of tiny, luminescent particles drifted down from the ceiling. He covered his mouth and nose quickly, backing away. “Wonderful.”

The spores swirled in the air, seeming to follow his movements. Unlike normal fungal spores, these moved with purpose, gathering together to form a vaguely humanoid shape.

“That’s new,” he remarked dryly, readying his katana. The spore-creature wavered, its form indefinite but clearly hostile as it floated toward him.

[This dungeon is full of surprises.]

“I hate surprises,” he muttered, slashing through the creature. His blade passed through harmlessly, the spores simply separating and reforming. “And I hate incorporeal enemies even more.”

He tried again, this time channeling mana through his blade. The edge glowed hot, and when it connected with the spore-creature, the affected spores withered and fell. But there were thousands more, constantly reshaping the entity.

He backed up, assessing the situation. “Fire would work, but in this enclosed space…”

[You’d cook yourself too. wait, you can’t even use magic yet.]

“You’re right.” He said, frowning at the spore creature. “Magic isn’t an option here.”

The spore entity drifted closer, its form shifting and pulsing in the blue glow of the fungus-lined walls. He stepped back, analyzing his options quickly.

[Perhaps the nuclear slime could help.]

He considered it for a moment. “Too risky in this confined space. The energy bursts could bring the whole tunnel down on us.”

Instead, he reached for one of the elemental cores he’d collected earlier—a fire core that glowed red in his palm. With a precise movement, he channeled a small amount of his remaining energy into it and tossed it through the spore creature.

The core exploded in a controlled burst of heat, not enough to ignite the air dangerously but sufficient to disrupt the creature. The spores scattered, many withering in the sudden flash of heat.

“That worked better than expected,” he muttered, watching as the remaining spores tried to regroup but failed to maintain cohesion.

He moved quickly past the disrupted entity, deeper into the tunnel. The passage widened again, opening into another large chamber. Unlike the previous areas, this one was filled with pools of viscous, bubbling liquid.

“Acid pools,” he observed, keeping to the narrow stone path that wound between them. “And if I had to guess…”

[Acid slimes.]

He sighed, drawing both katanas. “Let’s make this quick. I’m starting to get tired of this dungeon.”

The acid slimes approached, slower than their earlier counterparts but clearly more dangerous. Where they touched the stone floor, it hissed and dissolved slightly.

He moved with efficiency, keeping his distance while striking quickly at their cores. His blades sliced through the first slime, careful to avoid the splash of acid that followed.

“One down,” he said, sidestepping as another slime launched itself at him. He cut through it midair, its core clattering to the ground. “Two.”

The remaining acid slimes seemed to recognize the threat he posed. They merged together, forming a larger, more formidable opponent.

“That’s not good,” he muttered, backing up to reassess.

The merged slime towered over him now, its body rippling with caustic energy. It lashed out with a tendril that he barely managed to dodge. Where it struck, the stone floor dissolved completely, revealing a dark pit below.

“I really don’t want to find out what’s down there,” he said, glancing briefly at the pit before focusing back on his opponent.

[You need a strategy, Master. Direct attacks aren’t working.]

He nodded, scanning the chamber for anything he could use. His eyes fell on the ceiling where several large stalactites hung precariously.

“Sometimes the old tricks are the best,” he said, throwing one of his katanas with precision. It struck the base of a stalactite directly above the merged slime.

The stone formation cracked and then fell, impaling the slime. The creature shrieked—a strange, vibrating sound—as its body began to dissolve around the stalactite.

“Now,” he said, dashing forward with his remaining katana. He struck through the weakened slime, targeting its composite core. His blade connected, and the core shattered.

The slime collapsed into a harmless puddle of acid that slowly dissipated into the floor.

He retrieved his other katana, wiping it clean on a patch of undamaged stone. “That’s the acid slimes taken care of. Let’s see what’s next.”

[The dungeon core should be close now. I sense increasing mana density.]

He nodded, feeling it too—the distinctive pressure of concentrated mana that signaled the heart of a dungeon. He followed the sensation, moving into a final tunnel that sloped downward.

The passage opened into a vast, circular chamber, its ceiling lost in darkness. In the center, floating above a pedestal, was a pulsing crystal twice the size of his head. It glowed with shifting colors, illuminating the entire room.

“The dungeon core,” he said, approaching cautiously. “Larger than I expected.”

[Be careful. A core this size will have defenses.]

As if summoned by his caution, the ground around the dungeon core began to tremble. The multicolored light from the core intensified, pulsing in rapid, irregular patterns. Pools of various slime residue scattered across the chamber floor started to bubble and flow toward the center.

“That doesn’t look promising,” he muttered, tightening his grip on both katanas.

[The core is drawing in all the remaining slime essence from the dungeon. It’s creating a guardian.]

The amassing slime rose upward like a gelatinous pillar, gradually taking shape as it absorbed more material. Colors swirled within its translucent form—acid green, fiery red, electric blue, and dozens more, creating a chaotic rainbow effect. At its center, suspended like a heart, was a dense cluster of multiple cores fused together.

“A composite,” he observed, backing up to give himself fighting room. “It’s combining all the slime types into one entity.”

The creature continued to form, developing a vaguely humanoid structure. Two arms extended from its torso, fingers elongating into sharp claws. Legs formed, thick and powerful, anchoring it to the ground. The head took shape last—a featureless dome at first, then indentations appeared where eyes might be, followed by a slash-like mouth.

It stood nearly three meters tall, its body constantly shifting and flowing, yet maintaining its humanoid form with surprising stability.

[This is unexpected. Slimes don’t typically evolve into humanoid forms without external influence.]

The slime tilted its head, regarding him with what almost seemed like curiosity. Its mouth opened, revealing a cavity filled with crystalline teeth, and it emitted a sound—not quite speech, but more than the mindless noises of lesser slimes.

“Innn…truuu…derrr,” it gurgled, the word barely recognizable through the liquid distortion.

His eyes widened slightly. “It’s trying to communicate. It has some level of sentience.”

[Approximately 30% if I had to quantify it. Enough for basic reasoning and primitive speech, but still largely driven by instinct.]

The slime lord—for that’s what he now thought of it as—took a shambling step forward. Its body rippled with each movement, parts of it occasionally losing cohesion before being pulled back into the whole.

“Pro…tect…core,” it said, with slightly more clarity than before.

“At least it’s straightforward about its intentions,” he said, settling into a fighting stance. “I need that core, though, so we have a problem.”

The slime seemed to process his words, the colors within its body swirling faster with what might have been agitation. It raised one arm, which suddenly elongated like a whip, lashing toward him with surprising speed.

He dodged sideways, but the appendage changed direction mid-strike, catching him across the shoulder. Pain flared as acid burned through his clothing, searing his skin.

“Fast and adaptive,” he hissed, rolling to put distance between them. “And it can change elemental properties at will.”

The creature’s arm retracted, the tip now crackling with electricity rather than dripping acid. It studied him with those hollow indentations where eyes should be, as if learning from his movements.

“You…strong,” it observed. “Others…weak.”

“Others?” he asked, circling cautiously. “You mean other adventurers?”

The slime made a sound like bubbles popping—perhaps its version of laughter. “Food,” it clarified.

[It’s been consuming adventurers to grow stronger. That explains the accelerated evolution.]

He grimaced. “Great. I’m fighting something that’s been snacking on players for who knows how long.”

The creature struck again, this time with both arms simultaneously—one freezing cold, the other burning hot. He parried the burning limb with one katana, the blade glowing blue as he channeled what little mana he could spare. He was forced to dodge the freezing appendage, which left a trail of frost across the floor where it struck.

“I need to get to its core cluster,” he muttered, analyzing the swirling colors at the creature’s center. “But it’s keeping it well-protected.”

[The composition is constantly shifting. There’s no single weak point to exploit.]

The slime advanced steadily, its movements becoming smoother and more coordinated with each passing second, as if it were rapidly learning how to use its form more effectively.

“you…name?” it asked suddenly, its head tilting questioningly.

The unexpected inquiry caught him off guard. “You…want to know my name?”

“yes…want…know…before killing,” it explained, its voice growing marginally clearer.

He felt a chill that had nothing to do with the creature’s ice abilities. “You’re learning faster than you should be.”

The slime’s mouth curved in what might have been an attempt at a smile. “Learn…grow…evolve.”

[It’s dangerous. If it continues to evolve at this rate, it could develop true sentience.]

“Tch, how annoying.”