Syl [A Slime Evolution LitRPG]

We continued to chat and iron out the details. Most of it wasn’t worth mentioning, but a big sticking point for me was that I desperately needed food.

”Are we not feeding you sufficiently?” Llewel asked, his curiosity piqued.

”Don’t slimes usually just eat garbage?” Paeris questioned.

”Ugh… While that might be the case for normal slimes, I’ve evolved quite a few times, and there’s no way I can survive on garbage and scrap anymore,” I explained. ”I also compress my slime to maintain my forms and defenses. If I don’t have the required density, then my defenses are insufficient, and I can’t establish the correct amount of realism. I suffered a huge loss from that teleportation!”

Llewel blinked a few times, seemingly taken aback, ”Is that why the Mana cost was so high, and I had to initiate the emergency teleport?”

”Yeah, Syl is dimensionally heavy!” Vee giggled.

”The amount of slime that would require that amount would be…” he frowned. ”I can’t even comprehend it! Where were you storing it all?”

”That’s a secret until this contract thing gets signed,” I explained, and I could see the disappointment in his eyes.

”So you’re requesting more food to regain strength?” Loreleia reiterated.

”Either that or point me to a hunting ground, and I’ll do it myself,” I replied. ”Monster meat generates the most slime mass for me.”

Loreleia looked at Vee and tilted her head with a puzzled look.

”All food is good to me! I prefer it cooked, unlike this greedy slime,” Vee answered. ”Although these fruits are amazing! I could eat them all day!”

”I’m honestly very curious about your slime now…” Llewel admitted, stroking his chin as he tried to examine me.

”I can provide a sample once we’re signed up,” I offered. ”As long as you replace what’s lost. It’s literally my body, movement, defenses, attacks, and everything!”

”Not unlike the Fey, who are Mana beings and, with every spell cast, are siphoning away at their lifeforce,” Llewel said, nodding to himself.

”If that’s all, then we might as well sign it now,” Loreleia suggested as she pulled out a large scroll.

When she placed the scroll on the table, I could see it had already been filled with all of our discussion and requirements. Either it was a magic item, or she possessed a skill to fill out the contents during our conversation.

”Feel free to give it a read-over,” Loreleia suggested.

”Make sure there’s no hidden fine print, Syl!” Vee emphasized.

Both of us spent some time quickly reading through it. I even gave my [Sub-Cores] a vague order to read through it for any discrepancies, but seemingly nothing happened—either they found nothing, or my order was too crazy for them.

There was even a clause surrounding requesting additional compensation for Vee and me. I was pretty happy with everything and had no problem signing the magical document.

”So how does this work? Is it like a spirit or god oath?” I asked.

”Roughly on par with the former,” Loreleia answered.

”What are the consequences of a breach? I’ve seen the golden chains from a near-breach from a spirit oath,” I replied.

”Depending on the severity of the breach, you’d be losing up to fifty percent of your levels,” she casually answered.

I slammed the table in shock, ”Half of my levels!?”

”I can promise you that I have far more levels to lose than you, little slime,” Loreleia replied. ”And losing them would be dire; I would fail at my ascension to a High Elf immediately—[Identify] me.”

I did so and noticed she had partially revealed more of her profile willingly.

”Max level!” I cried out. ”I didn’t even know that was possible for non-monsters… How high is that, if you don’t mind me asking?”

”A hundred levels,” she answered. ”And that’s just my race level; I have far more in classes and professions.”

I gulped.

”So, at the max level, can you become a High Elf? Is it like an evolution? Can dwarves and humans do this?” Vee asked.

”Dwarves, yes, humans, I’m unsure,” Loreleia replied. ”Not many humans live long enough to reach it; unlike monsters, it is still not guaranteed.”

”That’s so cool. I bet the entire Elven Council is full of high elves!” Vee said excitedly.

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”It’s considered the minimum qualification,” Loreleia casually replied.

I nodded and looked over the contract quickly again. I had a newfound fear of potentially breaching it. Thankfully, from what I was reading, the breach protection was more for our benefit rather than theirs, as the only realistic way I could breach it was if I revealed any elven secrets to their enemies.

Even our task of helping them uncover the scheme’s perpetrators against Sylthaeryn and the Feirelle branch was explicitly worded as ”to the best of my abilities.” That was a huge relief, as I didn’t want to get punished for failing to help them.

”I can’t see anything wrong with this,” I replied, looking at Vee.

”Nope, no hidden clauses; seems solid to me!” Vee agreed.

”Wonderful, we will sign it then and finally start putting our cards on the table,” Loreleia said.

Signing it was a matter of touching the contract and focusing on it. We would all receive a system prompt asking if we accepted the terms and conditions. Vee and I gave each other a nod before accepting it together, causing our names to write themselves on the document.

”So cool!” Vee exclaimed.

Once we had all signed it, the contract shone briefly before burning up on the spot into sparkling fragments. Loreleia explained that each of us could bring up the contract by thinking about it, and the system would provide a copy for us in a notification box.

Obviously, I wasted no time trying it out and soon found the magical floating contract replicated in its entirety. However, what really surprised me was that at the bottom, it had all of our names listed out, with a short status description indicating whether we were in breach of contract or not.

”Forget demons and chronomancers and all that stuff; I think the real class to be scared of is lawyers!” Vee said half-jokingly. ”Like magical contracts that you can take with you all the time? Sheesh! With real-time tracking on breaches? That’s terrifying!”

”This feature was added by a human Otherworlder like yourself,” Loreleia informed Vee. ”This functionality of contracts has only been around for the last… three centuries?”

”Seriously, he wasted his dying wish on contracts?” I asked.

”If I recall correctly, he had a personal vendetta against the Fey and wanted a safer method of creating contracts without involving spirit oaths,” Loreleia answered.

”Talk about a grudge!” Vee chuckled.

”Okay, so where were you keeping all that slime?” Llewel asked, changing the subject.

”Oh, I have a trait called [Core Storage] that lets me store slime like dimensional storage. I think I got it due to my Dimension affinity,” I replied.

”A slime has Dimension affinity…” Paeris stammered, his eyes wide in disbelief.

Llewel nodded excitedly, ”It must have been a massive storage to contain enough slime that my own Mana was insufficient. I presume the storage ruptured during the teleportation?”

”Yes, I nearly died because of it!” I replied, causing him to look both startled and energetic. ”If I didn’t have a life-saving trait, I wouldn’t be standing here. Worst of all, I think all my stored slime was dumped into the elven embassy!”

”Oh gods…” Llewel paled.

”Is that why I’ve been unable to contact Tamnaeth?” Paeris asked.

”I don’t think the embassy exists anymore… sorry,” I replied somberly.

”What do you mean?” Loreleia asked.

”I have [Acid Slime], [Blaze Slime], and [Cryo Slime],” I explained. ”I used to keep my slime mass transformed into their respective states ready to go and use on demand. All of that exploded out of me when my core shattered.”

”Were there deaths?” Llewel asked. ”Assuming you know?”

”They were mostly dwarves; I didn’t see any mention of an elf, so I believe Tamnaeth survived,” I answered honestly.

”That’s a relief,” Paeris said, the other two elves nodded.

I frowned but didn’t say anything. Did they really not care that dwarves died? I had thought the elves and dwarves were allies.

”Oh, and there were a few human deaths, too, and I think they were from the Outeatus Kingdom since they had assassin classes,” I added.

”Even better!” Paeris exclaimed happily.

”Seems my intuition was right; they were likely plotting to attack the embassy,” Llewel commented. ”Honestly, assuming that Tamnaeth is in good condition and that you survived your injuries, I’d say this was a positive outcome. We might have saved his life and, at minimum, thwarted whatever they were plotting.”

I could feel Vee’s growing discomfort, but neither of us said anything. Seeing such a blatant disregard for any non-elven life was a little startling.

You know… those stories I’d heard are starting to make some sense now. And the reactions I used to get from some of the humans when they thought I was an elf… I can almost understand the human fear-mongering if all elves behave like this.

I wasn’t exactly a saint, but I found this attitude a little hard to agree with. However, it wasn’t a dealbreaker, and I’d prefer to remain in positive relations with the elves where I could, even if they weren’t the ”good guys.” They were still a hell of a lot better than the Outeatus Kingdom!

”Going back to what you mentioned earlier, we might need to hide your Dimension affinity, as Sylthaeryn definitely did not have it at birth,” Llewel mentioned. ”I will also admit that the corrosion magic does pose a slight risk to your identity—no elf would be able to acquire it naturally. I’ll provide a ring to mask your affinities from anyone who might snoop.”

”How common is that?” I asked.

”Not very, but considering you’ll have many eyes on you upon your return to us, it is best to be prudent,” Loreleia answered. ”Also, on that topic, we will need to officially rename you to finalize the disguise.”

”Oh, I can change my name. I have [Identity Fabrication],” I explained, and I changed my name to Sylthaeryn Feirelle to prove it.

”Interesting… it must be synergizing with your disguise traits. I assume you also have a skill for deception?” Loreleia asked.

”I have [Acting LV 6],” I answered.

”Good but not great; we can do better than that,” she replied quickly. ”I’ll need to peruse through my skills, but I believe we can get you [Roleplay] or one of its other upgrades.”

Vee snickered but didn’t say anything. I could sense a lot of amusement coming from her through the bond.

”Also, while your [Identity Fabrication] skill seems quite robust, I can sense that your noble name isn’t true, and that would go for any other half-decent noble,” Loreleia explained.

”Huh… Good to know; I’m glad I didn’t bother ever pretending to be a noble in the past!”

”Does that mean you’ll be making Syl an official noble?” Vee asked.

”Yes, I’ll officially bring you into the branch and rename you appropriately. When this is done, we will remove the noble name and return you to your Syl moniker,” she answered. ”While your transformation disguise is near-perfect, even fooling me if I hadn’t touched your soul, I don’t want to leave anything to chance.”

I grumbled in agreement. I wasn’t too happy about having my name officially changed; I’d grown extremely attached to it.

”Look on the bright side, Syl, you’ll be a princess for real!” Vee encouraged.

I don’t want to be a princess!

”Once we upgrade your [Acting] skill, we can start some rapid training in etiquette and social norms,” Loreleia added. ”Paeris. I’ll be entrusting this task to you.”

”Yes, mistress,” he agreed with a bow.

Ugh… I’m going to have to deal with this jerk? Just think of the pink slime core! It’ll be worth it in the end! Shiny new core! New skills! Just gotta put up with pretending to be an elven princess and a pompous jerk!