Primordial Slime: I Devour The World

Bravelm woke up before dawn. The first bells started to ring outside, their sound echoing through stone corridors, crowded streets and distant fields. By the time the eastern skies started to brighten, merchants opened their stalls and soldiers took their posts at the city gates. Lynessa had woken up long before the bells.

She was kneeling on the floor of the academy corridor, scrubbing away at a bucket of water. Her hands were tired. Her knees ached. She pushed on, scrubbing the stone.

Footsteps echoed from the corridor. Lynessa instinctively lowered her head. Two young wolf beastfolk entered, their academy uniforms embroidered with silver threads, spellbooks tucked under their arms. One of them paused to stare at Lynessa.

“She’s still here?” he said. His companion glanced at her. “Who?” “The cat,” he said. Lynessa continued scrubbing. “The one without magic,” he added.

“Oh,” the second wolf said. He regarded Lynessa for a moment, then turned back to the corridor. The murmuring of the two young men continued, loud enough for Lynessa to hear. “I heard she failed another mana test,” one said. “Why do they continue testing her?” the other asked.

“Probably because nobody believes a beastfolk can be born without magic,” the first replied. Lynessa’s scrubbing hand paused for the shortest of moments, then resumed its chore. She had heard far worse. Much worse.

Magic in Bravelm was not seen as a tool, but rather as an intrinsic part of the self. Every beastfolk had an affinity for magic, even if it was only a minor one. Wolves often took up wind, ice or reinforcement magic. Lions were famed for their mastery of fire and body-enhancing spells.

Foxfolk were renowned throughout the land as illusionists and spirit mages. Rabbitfolk were commonly encountered with healing, nature or acceleration magic. Different clans had their favored affinities, their varied traditions and their distinct means of judging worth. They all had one thing in common: magic.

Except her. Lynessa finished scrubbing the floor and stepped back to the bucket. The academy courtyard was already filled with students, who had gathered in small circles with their instructors, practicing their spells before the morning lesson. A young rabbitfolk girl raised both of her hands.

A greenish glow appeared between them, hovering like a tiny fireball. “Don’t force your mana,” her instructor chided. “Let it flow with your breath.” The girl focused, and the orb of light expanded until a miniature flower had grown from its middle, blooming from the cracks on the courtyard stones.

Several students clapped. Lynessa hesitated. She couldn’t help but watch. All her life magic had been the one thing that fascinated her. Perhaps because she had none.

Other people treated mana like air. Lynessa treated it like something beautiful and unreachable. Visible, yet impossible to touch. “Move,” a voice snapped behind her.

An exasperated hand was waved, then Lynessa felt a sharp slap on the back of her head. The tiger beastfolk woman who was in charge of the academy servants stood behind her. “You’re blocking the way,” she said. “I’m sorry, Mistress,” Lynessa said.

“Take those buckets to the cook and clean the western classrooms,” the woman ordered. Lynessa nodded. “Yes, Mistress,” she said. She took the bucket from where she had placed it on the ground. Behind her, another spell was loudly applauded.

This time, Lynessa didn’t turn to look.

Bravelm was not a single kingdom. That was the one mistake that most outsiders made. The lands of the beastfolk stretched far beyond the known regions of men, divided by forests, grasslands, mountain ranges and river valleys into numerous independent domains.

Wolf clans carved out their territory in the north. Lion tribes claimed the central grasslands as their own. Foxfolk settled in ancient forests and alongside spirit-rich valleys. Rabbitfolk built prosperous kingdoms of farmland, surrounded by rivers of flowing water.

Some of the most notable beastfolk nations belonged to bearpfolk, hawkfolk, boarfolk and deerfolk. Smaller groups of clans existed between larger nations, some of them independent, and others vassals of bigger kingdoms. They all shared a common heritage. They didn’t always share a common peace.

Ancient feuds, border disputes and trade disagreements could sometimes turn into outright wars. Marriage pacts were common between noble houses, to keep the peace and prevent the nuisance of war. Despite what most people of the world knew, beastfolk society wasn’t based around evolution.

A wolf beastfolk wasn’t expected to evolve into something greater to gain respect. They took pride in their bloodlines, their ancestry and their numbers. They took even greater pride in their magic. The strongest kingdoms had academies, where children practiced and learned the arts of magic from a young age.

Some nobles even hired private instructors. Even the most common farmers knew a few simple spells to reinforce their tools, preserve their food and protect their crops. It was the magic that made their homes, their weapons, their medicines and their wars. Hence, the notion of a beastfolk without any magical abilities was an insult.

A thing unheard of.

Around noon, Lynessa was on her way to the servants’ quarters with a bundle of folded clothing when a commotion outside the gates got her attention. She paused. Several students rushed past her, muttering. “Move!” “There’s someone from the Wolf Court here!”

Lynessa hesitated, then curiosity got the better of her. She followed the small group. A set of armored wolf beastfolk stood in the middle of the courtyard. Their clothing marked them as soldiers, but the silver plates on their shoulders and chests, and the blue cloaks with a crowned wolf emblem at the back identified them as something greater than city guards.

An older wolf beastfolk, with grey hairs on his ears and along his jaws, stood at the front of the group. The academy director hurried outside to greet them. “Commander Garran. We didn’t expect visitors from the royal court,” the director said. The commander handed him a sealed letter.

“The king has summoned representatives from every major academy,” Garran said. The director frowned. “And why would he want to see us?” “Reports from beyond the southern forests,” Garran replied. Lynessa’s ears twitched.

The director lowered his voice. “What kind of reports?” “Monster sightings,” Garran said. A few of the instructors exchanged glances. Garran continued. “Not feral monsters, but organized ones,” he said.

A different reaction followed. “An army?” one instructor asked. “We don’t know,” Garran said. His gaze was dark. “But caravans have reported sightings of roadworks beyond the Great Verdant Forest, and trade routes as well,” he added.

Lynessa listened intently. The Great Verdant Forest. She knew the name. Everyone did. Few beastfolk willingly wandered the area, because it was known to be filled with monsters, strange magic and things that shouldn’t exist.

The academy director frowned. “Who would build roads there?” “A monster nation,” Garran said. A hush fell over the gathered people. One of the instructors laughed nervously. “That’s impossible,” he said. “It’s not,” Garran replied.

Garran pulled another document from his cloak. “It’s called Eldoris,” he said. Lynessa silently repeated the name. Eldoris. “As far as we know, it’s not new. We just didn’t know about it,” Garran went on.

The director took the document. “What kind of monsters are they?” he asked. “Several kinds,” Garran answered. “Who rules them?” The commander paused to regard the man. “A slime,” he said.

Numerous people in the courtyard laughed. A good-natured wave of amusement washed over the gathering. “A slime?” “That’s ridiculous!” “A slime king!” A few instructors smiled. Garran wasn’t amused.

The wave of laughter slowly subsided. “You should take this seriously,” his voice carried over the courtyard. “That slime defeated a Monster King,” he said. The laughter stopped. “He now rules over more than one territory. Varkesh has submitted to his rule,” he added.

Several faces changed. Lynessa knew that name as well. Varkesh was infamous even in Bravelm. Garran crossed his arms. “The royal court wants information before they decide if Eldoris is an opportunity or a threat,” he said. The director nodded.

“I’ll prepare our representatives,” the director said. Garran turned to go, then paused. His eyes swept over the servants that stood along the edge of the courtyard. They passed over Lynessa’s head. She was nothing to him.

A servant, a slave, a cat beastfolk with no magic. Garran turned back to the gate. Lynessa remained where she was, staring after him. Eldoris. A nation of monsters. A slime king. Beyond the Great Verdant Forest.

Something about it unsettled her in a way that she couldn’t explain. “Lynessa!” She flinched as her mistress called her. “What are you doing?” “Nothing,” she said. “Then go back to work,” the mistress ordered.

Lynessa lowered her head. “Yes, Mistress,” she said. She turned to go, but the name still echoed in her head. Eldoris.

Far away from the lands of Bravelm, roads were already spreading out from the Great Verdant Forest. The rough earth was replaced with stone and bridges. Merchants traded goods and supplies between Eldoris and Varkesh, things that the small kingdom couldn’t produce on its own.

The Dominion was growing, and with every road that Tanaka built, it was growing closer to the lands outside its borders. Bravelm had always seen the lands beyond its borders as uncivilized, divided and dangerous. That was about to change, because for the first time in its history, the Beastfolk Lands had taken notice of the Great Verdant Forest.

And something inside it had taken notice of them in turn.