0.......

O...Alalia and I remained silent for a few seconds. She seemed more than content to observe me up close, with only the small tea table separating us. I took the moment to do two things. The first: I observed her back, not just with my eyes, but with all my senses.

When she touched my hand, I had tried to analyze her earlier, but the sheer number of zeroes that appeared left me unwilling to count them. The title didn't reveal much either; the stream merely asked if I wanted to analyze the 'Last Dryad of Terraria.'

That Alalia was strong, I already knew; that she was the last Dryad, I knew as well. The analysis didn't help at all, so I had to figure things out on my own and see if I could discover more about her.

The Dryad was clearly analyzing me, so I didn't try to hold back, much less hide my probing, and extended my senses toward her.

I did this for about five, maybe ten seconds—I wasn't sure; it could have been much longer—before retracting all my senses and pulling them back into my body. My head started to ache a little, and my vision blurred, filled with static, like an out-of-tune television. It was like walking through a jungle; after that, I traversed mountains, deserts, plains, tundras, taigas, rivers, seas… It had no end.

No matter how deeply I tried to "look," or how far my "vision" extended, I simply couldn't find a limit, only a thin line of a very distant horizon…

"Did you find what you were looking for?" …Alalia asked. I hesitated to call her a monster in my mind; she could probably have them for breakfast. She tilted her head to the side in a cute way. "I can't see more than the outline of your soul. Something protects and hides it… Even the outline, I think I can only see because you allow it. It's the first time I've seen something like this; it seems to cover your skin?… Strange."

… Right, important information: she can see my soul… Being on the other side of the coin was awful. From her last comment, it seemed she could see my Aura too.

"Yes and no. But I did figure out a few things." I replied, diverting my gaze from her face and looking toward the storm in the distance, sniffing the air twice. Night was beginning to fall. "The smell of blood and rot intensifies at night."

The second thing I was doing was keeping part of my attention on the storm. At least before I started probing Alalia. When night fell, the moment the sun fully set, the storm had subtly changed.

It was subtle, but the clouds and everything under their shadows seemed more… off. I couldn't quite put my finger on it; I just knew it felt strange. It didn't seem natural, like a photo of a face with one too many or too few details. Maybe the eyes were closer together, maybe the nose was lower than it should be, maybe the mouth was slightly crooked…

… It was just enough for me to know something was abnormal, but not exactly what was abnormal.

"What's out there in the darkness?" I asked the Dryad, the being with such a deep connection to nature that I couldn't tell if it was merely a connection or if she was nature itself.

Alalia blinked. I could see out of the corner of my eye her purple eyes tinged with orange shifting away from my face for the first time since she had sat down, then looking in the same direction I was. A thunderbolt flared red at that moment, as if it felt the Dryad's gaze. The entire horizon turned crimson.

The first words out of her lips made me rethink how screwed this planet really was.

"I don't smell blood or rot."

... My fucking god!

("Ozma?! Jinn?!") I mentally shouted to the two of them.

("We're using your senses as a bridge to the outside world, Devas. We can feel what you feel. The smell is real, at least for you.") Jinn answered, speaking for both since Ozma remained silent.

Okay, it's real, at least for me. One of two things: either I'm going crazy and smelling things that don't exist—not a small possibility—or Alalia can't sense the smell of blood and rot for some reason.

Neither option pleased me.

"Are you sure? Because I'm certain I smelled it, and I'm still smelling blood and rot." I asked, drumming my fingers on the table—an action I noticed Alalia mimicking shortly after me. I could also hear her feet tapping rhythmically under the table.

"If it were a week ago, I'd say yes. It's very hard to hide from my senses, nearly impossible, or even outright impossible… But the impossible has been done. So, it's no longer impossible; it's just… improbable." She stared at the storm in the distance for a few more seconds before turning her face back to me. "I know something is wrong, but I don't know what. I can't sense anything in the darkness."

"What happened a week ago?" I asked, nodding as I diverted my gaze from the storm.

"I found out that insanity and madness don't stop something from feeling fear. That the stag in WinterHord created a small bubble, a little world, making everything outside hallucinate that it didn't exist." Her gaze lowered toward my shadow. She sniffed the air, just as I had done earlier. "Your shadow has the same scent as the echoes of energy I sensed in the ice and snow."

But the fucking smell of blood she can't detect!

"Did you come from the same place as the stag?" she suddenly asked. "The same world?"

I shook my head. "No. The Deerclops and I are from different worlds, of that I'm sure."

"But your shadow has the same energy as his… or at least echoes of it." Her thoughtful hum made the wind whirl around us.

The surroundings were dark. Night had fallen, and the moon was not yet visible in the sky, but it would be soon. Even so, her voice made the area feel brighter, warmer, like an afternoon in… summer. Fuck! Was that why she felt different from how she was in the game?

Actually, it made sense… She had a connection to nature. Using the four seasons wasn't surprising.

"Just like I have mana, the same energy all Terrarians have. Does that mean I was born in Terraria?"

"No. It doesn't mean that…" She seemed to wish it did; I could feel it in her voice. "It only means you can use various energies temporarily or find a way to generate them on your own. An impressive ability." The compliment seemed genuine.

The table fell silent after that. It didn't last long—three, maybe five seconds—before Alalia spoke again.

"I don't know what to say." That was the sentence. She placed her hands on the table and began lightly tapping the wood, fidgeting. I could hear her legs swinging and her feet tapping the floor.

"You said you had questions. Ask them."

"I do, but I don't know which one to choose!" Her voice rose slightly before she blinked and blushed, a soft red-and-orange hue coloring her cheeks. "Sorry, it's just… It's strange. I need to think about what to say. I have so many questions, but I don't know where to start."

She raised her right hand and pointed at me.

"You start! You said you had questions too. Ask them, I'll think while you do."

… This wasn't how I expected this conversation to go, not gonna lie. But it's better than having to run from her or, worse, fight Alalia.

That last one… would've been a disaster.

I didn't need to think much before asking; my main questions were already prepared long before I came here.

"The world… what does it think of my presence?" She seemed confused for a moment at the question, so I clarified: "The planet, what does it think of me? I'm not a native. As you said, I'm a Foreigner, an alien to this world. What does the planet's consciousness think of me?"

The dryad blinked before tilting her head to the side. "You know, I'm surprised you're aware the world is alive and has a consciousness," she murmured, not too quietly, before straightening her neck and continuing with a question of her own: "Do you think the world is antagonistic to your presence?"

"The body of the vast majority, if not all, living beings tries to expel any foreign body when it detects one. Why would the body of a Celestial Body be any different? I am an intruder, after all," I explained briefly.

There were cases where that didn't happen, for one reason or another: either because the 'foreign body' was something benign, so insignificant that expelling it wasn't worth the effort, or because the host body was too weak to do so. I wanted to know which case this was.

The answer to my question came in the form of a short, feminine, amused laugh.

"No, Devas, Terraria doesn't see you as an intruder. You've never harmed the world or even tried to. In fact, even before I discovered your existence, the world already didn't consider you an intruder, but rather a guest."

I should've been happy, and, in part, I was. Knowing the world didn't want to delete me was always good news, but finding out it considered me a guest even before Alalia knew of my existence, right after Jille?... I didn't know how to feel about that.

The stream was one thing; coming to Terraria, my favorite game, was another. But now the planet considered me a guest?... I closed my eyes for a second and sighed. I couldn't tell if it was a sigh of relief or something else entirely.

"Did the planet call me here, Alalia?" I asked after hesitating for a moment, and opened my eyes. The dryad didn't seem surprised by my question and shook her head in denial.

"No, there's no way. Terraria is… not weak, but debilitated, recovering. It's practically semi-dormant. If the world summoned something, someone, I'd know." She explained in a gentle tone before adding, "You didn't come here willingly... did you?"

For the third time in a row during that conversation, the answer began with the same word:

"No. I woke up in the forest near the kingdom, in a clearing. One moment I was taking an afternoon nap, the next there was grass under my body and my ceiling had turned into a sky." I lost myself in the memory for a moment, in a quick daydream, before blinking and refocusing. "No… I didn't come to Terraria willingly."

And to this day, I didn't know how to feel about that.

She nodded silently. Her vibrant green hair darkened to a shade of brown, growing slightly wavy, and her smile turned bitter, transforming into just a faint curve at the corner of her lips. Other than that, no further changes occurred, for reasons unknown to me.

"I feel cruel now." She looked at the wooden table.

"Why?"

"I don't think I should say."

"Then don't." I didn't press the issue, and Alalia seemed relieved by that.

I could imagine why she, in her own words, "felt cruel." She wanted something from me, enough to call me a "hero" in that letter she sent along with the fruits.

I didn't come to Terraria willingly, but she was happy about my presence here anyway. In a way, it was cruel. Not that I thought so, or even cared, but I chose to stay silent on the matter.

"When I was younger, I always loved the night," she spoke again after a few seconds, gazing at the dark horizon, obscured by both the night and the storm. "I still do: the serenity, the peace, the calm, the solitude, and all the beauty it brings… but less than I used to."

She didn't turn around when she asked: "Care to guess why?"

I followed her gaze. The forest surrounding the kingdom, far from the storm's reach, was beautiful. Even in the dark of night, the entire scene had a magical aura. I could even see small lights: some from campfires, others from fireflies, or perhaps even plants glowing in the dark.

I didn't like the dark, never did, but I could appreciate the calm of the night in a way, even if I didn't embrace it. The silence under the moonlight left room for all sorts of things to crawl in the darkness—not just physical ones… But not anymore. Never again…

"Because of the moon." I pointed upwards without looking. Alalia snorted, somewhere between amusement and surprise.

"Did I get it right?"

"Of course you did." She turned to me. "You can feel its presence too?..." Her voice trembled slightly. I wanted to think it was the cold, but I knew it was fear.

"Something like that. I've never been a fan of the night either," I offered a half-truth.

I knew about that 'thing' because of the game, of course, but I'd be lying if I said I couldn't feel the moon's presence watching the world. When night fell in Terraria, it was different from any other world I'd been to.

I felt it since my second night in Terraria, even more so now that my senses were far sharper. We had a roof over our heads, despite the balcony nearby, but even with the moon not yet high, I felt watched.

"You know, I…" She hesitated for a moment. "I have visions."

"Past, present, or future?" I asked without turning. I rested my elbow on the table and propped my chin on my palm, letting my gaze linger on the distant forest and the storm even farther away.

"The last one mostly, but I can see moments from the first and 'glimpse' almost all of the second."

"You wouldn't have brought this up if you hadn't seen something." I stared at the lightning for a moment longer before tilting my head in her direction. "What did you see? Something about the storm?"

"…Also. Something will attack the kingdom, on a red night; the skies will weep red, in blood, the ground floods..." Her voice took on an ethereal tone for a moment, and her eyes grew clouded before she shook her head firmly. "Something with a malevolent presence, but that's not what I want to discuss…"

Well, fuck it, it's the Blood Moon and the Eye together. What a nightmare. I should start planning Anti-Foreigner runes and anything else I could get my hands on.

"That seems pretty important for you to want to discuss something else," I pointed out.

"It is important, I know… But not as much. Thanks to the information you and DynDyn brought, we're much more prepared. I'm much more prepared." The dryad explained briefly.

Can she not move freely? Some sort of seal?

"What is it, then?" I asked.

"A fork in the road, further ahead than the red vision that should occur in a month or two. I'm not sure how long—years or decades—but it's etched in stone… It will happen…" Her voice gained a trembling tone, and she crossed her arms, gripping her biceps before slowly placing her hands on the table.

Her eyes grew hazy, clouded, even more than before. She was looking in my direction, but not at me, I was sure of that. Whatever she was seeing, whether a vision or a memory of one, it couldn't have been pleasant.

All the vegetation around seemed to wither and dry up. The living wood table turned brittle. Plants began to brown, flowers lost their petals, and stems bent into fragile arches.

The atmosphere grew cold—not the chill of winter, not wind or snow, but raw sorrow and despair, clinging to the air like sticky sap.

Curiously, Alalia's physical appearance didn't change. Her hair remained the same color, as did her skin tone and the leaves that made up her clothing. The surroundings mirrored her emotions, but she herself did not. Even her face stayed strangely neutral, unmoving...

...She had given up.

Then she blinked, looking at me, staring straight into my eyes. Purple, with hints of orange. I hated what I saw in them.

"In the best future, Terraria is saved. A hero arises—not you—and uses my body as a sacrifice to forge a sword capable of protecting the world." She didn't blink as she spoke. The anguish in her voice was almost tangible. She spat out the name: "Terra: the ultimate blade of the planet…"

I knew the name, obviously. The title was familiar too, but from somewhere else. I said nothing and stayed silent, letting her continue.

"In the worst, we lose. Nothing exists beyond a lifeless, desolate wasteland, faintly lit by the pale glow of moonlight…" Alalia seemed more like a tree than ever. She didn't breathe; only her lips moved. "In both, I die. I was fine with that—with the first one, I mean… Until you showed up."

Her hand rose slowly, fingers open toward me.

"To this day, I'm not sure if I saw it right. If these two futures I told you about are carved in stone, a one-in-two possibility destined to occur no matter what…" Her voice dropped to a fragile whisper. The wind barely stirred. "The third one I glimpsed when I first saw you, though, no…"

She didn't blink as she described it:

"Like a stray ray of sunlight in a dark forest, illuminating a thin, narrow escape route… You killed that thing."

I didn't have time to fully process her words as she went on. Her fragile voice gained a hint of strength.

"Your armor was in pieces, you were on your knees, barely conscious, body utterly exhausted, surrounded by dozens, maybe hundreds of weapons in varying degrees of damage or outright destruction. I didn't recognize any of them. None were the blade that haunts my nightmares…"

She blinked for the first time since she'd begun recounting her visions. The corners of her eyes grew wet. She seemed barely able to hold back tears.

"You know, I lied… I didn't have several questions, just one…" She smiled—something fragile and utterly desperate.

"…Could you save me?"

[...]

After speaking with Alalia for a few more minutes and asking for some clarifications, I headed—not literally, unfortunately—away from Oakwood Manor. Passing through the kingdom's gate, I picked up speed toward my clearing.

It was truly mine now. Dylan had apparently bought the land and handed me the deed shortly before I went to talk to the Dryad. I sincerely thanked the guy, though he said it was no big deal.

("So, what are we here to do?") Ozma's voice echoed in my mind. I realized I had forgotten to mention him and Jinn to Alalia. I'd fix that tomorrow…

He didn't ask about what Alalia and I discussed regarding the moon. I had already warned him, as soon as I left Oakwood Manor, that I wouldn't talk about it.

Some things were better left unsaid, and this was one of them. I trusted the stream, but I knew the protection I had was different from what the viewers had. Besides, I didn't want to discuss that crap.

"I'm going to check the stream dungeon. I want to beat Master Mode and then Story Mode," I explained briefly. "There's a lot to do, so I want to get it out of the way and finish the Proto-A Mystic Symbols and Runes."

I also needed to look into the girls' gift… And see if I could unlock everyone's Aura. I hadn't tried it with Millia and Lucy—though in Lucy's case, I wasn't even sure she actually had a soul—because I didn't want to risk it, just as I hadn't immediately done so with Dylan and the rest of the group.

First, I'd test it on some random slimes to see how it worked. Then, I'd ask Helena about death-row prisoners; there had to be some. If not, I'd hunt down one or two people who were better off dead than alive. I'd rather deform or destroy a rapist's soul than that of a friend.

I also needed to examine some people in the hospital to see if they were ill, had something dormant, or not… Plus, I had to inscribe Anti-Foreigner runes on everything I owned, including the kingdom's barrier, which likely didn't have runes yet.

"Damn, so much work…" I sighed, pulling the Slime Staff from my inventory, along with Lucy. The axe took a few seconds to wake up.

("Huh? Lucy's companion took me out of the box?! Can we chop trees?!") Those were her first words before noticing we weren't in Remnant anymore. ("The air here feels familiar. Are we home? Did friend Ruby come with us?!")

Before I could answer, a message appeared amid a whirlwind of rose petals:

[(MOD) RedHuntressLive]

I wanted to go! But unfortunately, I couldn't. Say hi to Lucy for me, Devas. And be careful in the dungeon!

(Pouting Red Riding Hood emote)

"I'll be careful, Ruby," I replied first before continuing, "We're back home, Lucy. Sorry for leaving you locked up so long," I said to the axe, dismissing Ruby's message with my left hand while placing Lucy on my back with my right. "And Ruby sends her regards."

("It's okay, I was sleeping!") She responded, trembling slightly on my back as if waving, then added cheerfully: ("Hi to you too, friend Ruby!")

"As for chopping trees, I need to do something first. After I'm done, we can spend a few minutes cutting wood. How does that sound?" I offered.

("Okey dokey lokey!")

I shook my head, amused, and grabbed the Slime Staff. I tapped it a few times. Millia wasn't just sleeping; I had asked her to return to the Slime Staff in case something went wrong with the teleportation.

She still hadn't come out as a precaution. The staff had a mechanism that adapted Millia to the environment she was in. This had happened when we arrived in Remnant, so I thought it best not to risk it and repeat the process on the way back.

A few seconds later, the Slime Staff glowed, and Millia appeared on my shoulder. She "looked" around briefly before forming a tiny hand and poking my cheek.

"It's different, indeed. I got used to Remnant's mana and didn't even realize how much I missed breathing the mana here at home. Is it like that for you too?" Her words formed quickly.

"That feeling of no longer breathing thin air?" Millia gave me a thumbs-up with her hand. "Yeah. Remnant's mana is much sparser and less dense."

It was much better than HOTS or Demon Slayer (Kimetsu no Yaiba), but it couldn't compare to Terraria. The only place that came close was inside the vaults, and even then, just barely.

I picked Millia up and placed her in my shirt pocket.

"I'm heading to the dungeon; that's why I woke you up." I had thought about letting her sleep, but she already knew about the dungeon. I'd mentioned it before, and Millia had asked me to call her when I planned to enter it again.

I hesitated. The chance of her father being in either Master Mode or Story Mode was high. It wasn't the fight itself that concerned me; my worry lay elsewhere: that he might be insane, corrupted, or something similar. Millia had told me her father and mother had gone off to fight, leaving her in the garden. If I was right and they'd faced that thing on the moon, the chances of the King Slime being mad were significant.

I truly hoped not. It wouldn't do her any good to see her father in that state.

Millia simply gave me another thumbs-up and settled into the pocket of my T-shirt. I pulled my phone out of the VoidBag and activated the dungeon, causing a floating screen to appear before me.

-//-

[Slime Dungeon]

Modes:

Classic Mode: Unlocked (100%) - Phantom Copy: Enabled!

Expert Mode: Unlocked (100%) - Phantom Copy: Enabled!

Master Mode: Unlocked.

Story Mode: Unlocked (WARNING!! HIGH DIFFICULTY - STREAM ONLY)

-//-

I already knew Phantom Copy was unlocked in Expert Mode, so that wasn't news. I also had the key to the Hanging Gardens, allowing me to return there at any time.

What intrigued me was that the high-difficulty warning was still present, even after all this time. I was much stronger since the last time I entered the dungeon. This meant the warning was either a standard message or that, even with my current power and strength, the stream deemed it worth alerting me.

Well, it didn't matter now. Today, my focus was on Master Mode, not Story Mode.

With a touch, the dungeon portal appeared in the middle of the clearing. Just as I was about to ask Millia to return to the Slime Staff, for her safety, and prepare the Remnant of the Deerclops to enter the dungeon, some stream messages popped up in front of me:

[The living item "Lucy" has been added to the party of "The Streamer."]

[The living being "Mil'li'a-io Kr'yo 'Li'ja Jou-sk" has been added to the party of "The Streamer."]

[The living item "Relic of Knowledge: Jinn" has been added to the party of "The Streamer."]

[The soul "Ozma" has been added to the party of "The Streamer."]

It took me no more than a few seconds to process the information. The first thing I noticed was that neither Salem nor any of my Nightmares were included in the party. If I had to guess, it was because they were considered extensions of me, not separate entities.

My Nightmares were part of my nightmare energy. Salem, on the other hand, had become an element of my Spiritual Realm after everything that had happened. Ozma was there with them, as was Jinn, but while those two were merely guests, the rest were residents.

The second thing I noticed was the appearance of four icons on the minimap, all next to me: a small golden lamp, a red axe, a staff, and a cute slime face. Jinn, Lucy, Ozma, and Millia.

"I need to check if this happens with the others…" I murmured. The Hanging Gardens would be a good base if necessary. If I could bring everyone inside, I'd do so without hesitation. "Has anything changed inside, Jinn, Ozma?"

("Nothing I can identify. I don't feel any difference.") Ozma's voice answered after a brief pause.

("I agree. Our connection remains unchanged.") Jinn added.

Millia and Lucy's responses were essentially the same. Neither of them noticed any changes. Likely, this was something exclusive to the stream and had no "real" effects.

With that settled, I equipped my armor and Angel Graves. Millia didn't budge, settling into the small inner pocket I'd designed for her. I hadn't intended to fight with her there, but I ended up making the pocket for her anyway.

With the Ice Blade in hand, I stepped toward the portal. The kaleidoscope of colors consumed my vision for a few moments before disappearing, along with the clearing, giving way to what could only be described as the entrance to an imposing castle — the main gate, open and partially destroyed.

A slight poke at my chest caught my attention. I glanced down, finding Millia's words forming in trembling letters:

"This is Dad's castle… My home…"

I frowned at the information and scanned my surroundings. The castle was surrounded by a forest—or what should have been one. Everything was burned, with precise, circular holes in the ground the size of oranges. The smell of burning was nearly imperceptible, as if the fire had been extinguished a long, long time ago.

The castle walls were equally damaged, marked by holes despite the Mystic Symbols and Runes protecting every visible brick. The place had been struck by something—a military force—and I had a guess. Judging by the burn marks and the holes that resembled bullet strikes… Vortex.

The Solar had attacked the Ice Queen's realm. Vortex, the realm of the King Slime…

"…Is Dad inside?" Millia poked my chest again.

"No, he's not. Don't worry," I replied softly, giving the little slime a light pat on top of her body.

There was only one red dot on the minimap, near the center of the castle, unmoving. And it wasn't a boss marker. If it were the King Slime, the stream would have already alerted me.

"If I tell you to return to the Slime Staff, do so immediately, understood, Millia?" I asked. The little slime nodded. With her confirmation, I began advancing.

I kept my guard up, Shadowflame ready at the slightest mental command, as well as the VoidBag. My shadow writhed slightly, my Nightmares waiting for any sign of hostility. Even Jinn and Ozma were on alert, prepared to intervene however they could.

I passed through the half-open gates without touching them, entering what I could only call the front garden. I walked along the path in the middle of the garden, observing the surroundings. Broken statues, dried fountains, everything burned or destroyed in some way, marked with holes I was sure came from lasers.

The castle's interior wasn't much different. The architecture was slightly distinct from what I expected, having seen the insides of castles in photos and knowing Beacon, which had been a castle before Ozma turned it into a school.

The doors were tall and circular, as was the ceiling. Many were missing, torn off or hanging by their hinges. Some walls, likely once light-colored, perhaps blue or white, were now blackened, with only a few parts near the ceiling untouched.

Few paintings had survived, and not all depicted slimes. Some portrayed landscapes. I didn't find any paintings of Fae, Terrarians, or Goblins along my path; perhaps some existed, but they were among those burned and destroyed.

I followed the most obvious route toward the castle's center, stepping over the remnants of a once-red carpet. The place was deathly silent—including me. I made no noise with my steps, nor did the air stir with my movements. Shadowflame handled the former; my magic, the latter.

There were no bodies. No Terrarians, Fae, slimes, or the invaders who had assaulted the place. Not even the VoidBag picked up any sign of what I'd expected to be corpses, only debris. The location was completely empty, reduced to ruins, devoid of any life…

The still dust and ashes on the furniture hinted at how long everything had been abandoned. An Analyze: Item cast on a random statue in the hallway didn't reveal much, but the words "untouched for millennia" confirmed that the castle hadn't received visitors in a very, very long time.

When I finally reached the castle's center, I immediately recognized where I was: the throne room. The doors were completely gone, allowing me to see the two large thrones even before stepping through the entrance.

The first throne, larger and about five meters tall, had a circular shape. Its color was sky blue, adorned with golden details and a large red gemstone at the top of the backrest—a massive rectangular ruby.

The second throne, smaller at around three meters, was a soft pink with shades of lilac and silver. Unlike the first, which seemed entirely metallic and unpadded, this one was cushioned with pillows. Like its counterpart, it also had a gemstone at the top of its backrest, a heart-shaped amethyst.

The moment my eyes landed on the thrones, something felt off. The unsettling sensation became clear seconds later: the two thrones were intact. From base to top, not a single scratch marred them, while everything else around, just like all I'd seen along the way, was destroyed and burned.

My gaze then found the bronze armor kneeling before the thrones. It faced away from the entrance, weathered by time, rusted, with broken parts and visible punctures. The red dot on the minimap hovered exactly over it.

I had no doubt: that armor, whatever it was, was responsible for preserving the thrones. It had probably also dealt with the invaders who had devastated the castle.

The moment I set my first foot inside the throne room, the armor moved. A metallic, rusted sound echoed, as if plates of metal were scraping against each other. Something inside it shifted as well—a semi-translucent mass of vibrant pink, contrasting sharply with the corroded and partially melted metal encasing it.

If it had been any other situation, I would have bombarded the armor before it even moved. In fact, I probably would have destroyed the entire castle from afar without even approaching. But Millia was with me. The little slime had been trembling since we started exploring this place, and when we reached the throne room, her shaky, nearly illegible written words stopped me in my tracks.

"I know him… It's my uncle…"

Almost as if it had been waiting for Millia to finish, the bronze armor slowly turned to face me. Its design resembled Greco-Roman armor, covered with faded mystical symbols and runes that glowed faintly amidst the metal. Though I called it bronze, I was certain it was something far more durable, even corroded by battle and time.

The armor was small, no taller than 1.6 meters. It held a short sword in its right hand—a xiphos. The blade was broken, as was part of the guard, and the hilt seemed fused with the armor, melted and misshapen.

On its left arm, there was a shield haphazardly attached, as though it had been welded to the metal. The shield was darker than the rest of the armor, scorched repeatedly to the point that the design at its center was unrecognizable.

The helmet tilted slowly to one side in an almost unsettling manner before snapping upright with a sharp motion. There were no eye slits in the helmet, and if there had ever been, they were obliterated now. The front was a grotesque spiral of melted, blackened, and deformed metal. Yet, I could feel that thing staring directly at me.

Then, two things happened at once.

The first was a scream—not a human scream, but something utterly insane, hoarse, and metallic. It was as though the armor itself were screaming, not whatever was inside it. The high-pitched sound oscillated erratically, harsh and piercing, reverberating throughout the room and shaking the walls.

"₣ØⱤɆł₲₦ɆⱤ!"

The second was the message that appeared before me:

[The General: Pink - has Arrived!]

[...]---[...]

You know December? Very hectic, not a fan. That said, onto the chapter!

Alalia is strong, like, ridiculously strong... But not physically. No spoilers.

The conversation is finally over, we're back to the action and back to the dungeon! The enemy is something that was mentioned in WinterHord, the general. Surprise, it was Pinky! I came up with this idea a long time ago, and I'm happy to finally put it in the story.

I won't drag this out, it's late and I need to sleep. Good night everyone, and happy reading!

[NEXT]

In an instant, I was absorbing the information contained in that message; in the next, without sound or warning, a blade with a broken tip, glowing with a molten bronze hue, was less than an inch from my eyes, slashing in a horizontal circular strike from left to right.

The General was fast—easily the fastest enemy I had ever faced or was currently facing. If I had to estimate, his speed was around Mach four or five, maybe even more…

…But it wasn't anywhere near enough to match me.

I tilted my head slightly backward, dodging the strike that would likely have blinded me, just before slamming my left palm against the shield aimed at my stomach, following the sword's attack. The impact of flesh against metal made no sound. I felt the kinetic energy of the blow being absorbed by something.

The right hand of the armor rotated at its wrist, the metal screeching with a rusty tone as it moved, before the momentum of the strike disappeared—absorbed by the same force that had absorbed the previous blow's kinetic energy—and the xiphos sword swung again toward my eyes, tracing an arc opposite to the first.

The motion was precise, an identical reversal of the first strike, as if time had rewound itself, I noted. I slightly adjusted my grip on the Ice Blade and parried the xiphos head-on. As before, the kinetic force of the impact was nullified. It felt like hitting something soft, like a pillow; there was no rebound from the strike. It was strange.

The sound of the collision still echoed throughout the chamber, slightly stirring the dust on the floor, though muffled. Before the General could kick me—as I saw his right leg begin the motion—I pushed him back with my left hand on his shield and leapt to the side, putting distance between us across the room.

He was pushed only a few meters, and given the force I'd applied, that was far too little. He should have, at the very least, broken through the opposite wall, if not two or three beyond it. I took those moments to analyze him and the information I had gleaned.

What was absorbing the energy of the strikes wasn't the armor, at least not entirely. The runes and mystical symbols etched into the metal were melted and deformed; only one or two faintly glowed with a pinkish hue, still active. This was remarkable, considering the probable age of the armor.

My gaze wandered to the largest hole in the armor, near the left rib area. It was a jagged opening, unlike the perfectly circular breaches typically found in castle walls. The holes in the armor were irregular, some shaped like straight slashes, others like crosses or "X's," and some with circular contours.

This one, specifically, had a cross shape, as if a blade had cut it from two different angles. However, considering that—if my assumption was correct—the entity that attacked this castle was the Vortex Pillar, it had likely been a large arrow or a laser projectile that caused this wound.

I couldn't see through the vibrant pink mass inside the armor, nor could I probe it with the VoidBag. It was as if the armor was alive, including the sword and shield, somehow. Still, I had noticed this wound had a counterpart on the back of the armor when the General was kneeling.

The vibrant pink mass—which I was certain was the General's body—quivered and rippled slightly but in a rapid and chaotic manner, like gelatin. A faint buzzing sound, so subtle it was barely audible, emanated from within the armor. It closely resembled the hum of a tuning fork…

So that's why there was no sound when he moved? The sound created by his motion was absorbed before it could even travel a centimeter?… Fuck, that was new…

I knew slimes were good at absorbing physical blows, but this ability was something entirely different. He wasn't merely absorbing or resisting my attacks; he was directly absorbing their kinetic and mechanical energy.

It was like Yang's Semblance, but stronger. I was certain that if I pushed Yang with the same force I used to shove the shield, she would have been sent flying hundreds of meters, if not more. The General had only been pushed back a few meters and didn't even seem affected. Yang's Aura would've been shattered—

My thoughts were interrupted as the armor moved again. It made no sound, as before, but its speed was considerably greater than before. His movements were mechanical, far too straight.

"You can use the kinetic energy you absorb, can't you?…" I asked aloud.

It was a test. I wanted to see if he would respond to or react to my voice. Neither happened; he simply continued his attack. After his initial shout, he had fallen deathly silent.

…Something about this was strange.

The strike was different this time, a straight thrust aimed at my right eye. I pulled the Bone Helm over my head and used the black hands: two to punch the blade's edge, two to grab the hand wielding it, two to grip the arm, and left the rest inert. It was my second test. I wanted to see if he would react to nightmare energy.

In Cael's diary, it was written that a General had fought the Deerclops, one whom Cael himself later admitted he was no longer certain was even a Fae… My question was: was this General the Pink standing before me?…

In Cael's diary, the Fae wrote that he had been thrown into one of the rifts in space by a shockwave—something that the slime before me seemed to have as an ability to absorb. So far, in this battle, there had been no shockwaves… But in the General's fight against the Deerclops, had there been?...

When the black hands' punches struck the xiphos' edge, it was instantaneous: I felt something trying—and failing—to absorb the kinetic energy of the blows. Slimes were mana-based creatures, created by mana—I knew that—and the Pink's ability likely worked by using mana as a medium to absorb kinetic energy. Nightmare energy wasn't mana.

The General's armor arm was thrown aside with the two punches. The two black hands gripping his right hand prevented the metal from rotating on its axis, as I realized he had attempted to do.

Credit where it's due: he was quick to react. The moment he realized his arm was restrained by four black hands, the General swung horizontally with his left hand, using the shield's edge as a blunt blade, aiming at my neck, likely trying to strike my eyes, but his short stature made that impossible.

…Always aiming for the eyes.

With a mental command, I moved the last two black hands. One gripped the shield's edge, producing a metallic echo. The second appeared inches from the General's chest and shoved him away with a palm strike. He tried to resist, but the other four hands gripping his right arm pulled him backward, hurling him across the room.

I didn't attack. I simply observed as he spun through the air, the armor screeching with each motion, until he landed on his feet. The impact with the ground made no noise. The moment the armor's feet touched the floor, he dashed toward me again. Straight movements. Mechanical movements…

I let the arm holding the Ice Blade fall to my side before moving so fast that my form blurred. I sprinted toward the General, and our collision occurred near the throne room's center. Strike against strike, our weapons clashed.

The sound barrier shattered, the boom reverberating through the room as the Ice Blade was engulfed in my nightmare energy. The shockwave stirred dust into the air, only for the Shadowflame to consume it mere meters away.

The General attempted to kick me with his right leg. I sidestepped to the left, evading the strike, and twisted my wrist, pushing the Ice Blade while pulling his xiphos downward by its guard. I struck when his arm began to move. The impact of my fist against his reverberated through the room, my hand completely black, enveloped by the Bone Helm's hands like gloves.

The General's armored fist rotated, and the xiphos spun around the Ice Blade, scraping the floor. The sword stopped spinning when it reached the opposite side of its original position. Then, like a mirror, its wielder planted his right foot firmly on the ground, spun on his axis, bent his upper body toward the floor, and delivered a crescent-angle kick with his left leg, aiming for my head.

I ignored the kick, the armor's foot and leg restrained by eight black hands before they could reach me. I coated my already-armored left leg in nightmare energy. My horizontal kick made the armor's chest metal groan and sent the General flying to the far wall of the room, where, just before colliding, he slammed his left hand against the wall.

The wall, already worn, riddled with holes and cracks, exploded. The General's momentum vanished entirely, and he landed effortlessly on the ground.

"Kinetic energy redirection…" I murmured, my voice echoing with nightmare energy as the General charged forward like an arrow, his body almost parallel to the floor. "Truly impressive. A new strategy for every offensive… Well, partially, at least."

Even with my words now laced with nightmare energy, the General didn't react. Just a few meters from me, he drove his free hand into the ground, carving five deep grooves into the floor. The motion forced his body to spin and invert, sending both heels directly toward my eyes while his sword slashed horizontally at my knees.

I could have 'killed' him right then. In fact, I could have 'killed' him long ago. He was strong—ridiculously strong, even in that degraded state. But at this point, I was stronger. I had too many resources that nullified his greatest ability and countless more tricks if necessary. His instincts and techniques were remarkable but ultimately insufficient.

Still, I didn't do it. I stepped forward, using my height advantage to kick him away again, my right leg coated in nightmare energy. Simultaneously, I blocked the near-perfect slash aimed at my knee with the Ice Blade.

The sound of metal clashing echoed through the room, both from the collision of weapons and the impact of my kick against the center of his bronze armor. I felt the metal groan under my sole before a sonic boom erupted, and the General was launched like a bullet through the hole in the wall he had made earlier.

"Millia, are you there?" I asked the little slime within my armor, my voice now free of the nightmare energy's echo. "Do you want to go into the Slime Staff?"

She took a moment to respond—long enough for the slime inside the armor to rush at me again. Before that, he used the castle's debris as cover, kicking it up to create a smoke screen. I pulled it all into the VoidBag, clearing my vision even though I didn't really need to, and used the black hands of the Bone Helm to pin him to the ground.

The General reacted with mastery, spinning his body and slicing through six of the eight hands in an instant. His xiphos pulsed with a vibrant pink, radiating the echo of something nearly extinguished—I could feel it. It was his mana, mixed with what, if I had to guess, was an ancient blessing from the Empress of Light. Strangely, though, I couldn't sense any divinity. The very light around him seemed to bend toward the blade, as if it were something natural.

The six hands weren't destroyed, only severed and flung aside. But it wasn't enough.

The two remaining hands pressed down on his shoulders, forcing him to the ground. I stepped forward, reappearing in front of him as he struck the ground with his shield, creating a small explosion that launched him upward, against the force of the black hands.

Before he could stabilize, my leg met the center of his armor again, sending him flying once more.

Right… This felt a lot like an authority, and one tied to the world itself, since I couldn't sense any divinity. The Empress of Light is a Fae, obviously, but this is starting to feel much like the Faes I knew, like the Winter or Summer Queens—too much for my liking…

While the General didn't return—this time, I'd kicked him harder, so it would take him a few seconds to make it back to the throne room—Millia finally answered me:

"No… it's not necessary. I'm sad, very sad, but I knew this was possible. You warned me, and I'm not foolish…" The words formed shakily and slowly. "You're not holding back because of me, are you? You don't have to. Do what you must. I won't blame you or resent you. Just end this and free my uncle from this state…"

"That's the main reason," I replied. Whether I liked it or not, the slime within the armor was Millia's uncle. "I was looking for any way to end this fight without killing… You realized that, didn't you?" I sighed, slightly stressed. What a mess.

Curiously, this fight would end without any deaths. I'd realized that a while ago, just as Millia had apparently noticed too, since she said 'destroy his body,' not 'kill him'… I couldn't kill Pink…

"Yes, I can feel the cores of all slimes. My uncle Pinky's core has been destroyed for a long time… He's been dead for ages…" Millia replied as the General re-entered the room.

… Because he was already dead. I'd been fighting a corpse this entire time.

I stared at the armor that crashed through the wall and landed back in the room. That's why it was so impressive how he kept coming at me, always changing strategies. It was something expected in any battle—adapting and trying new tactics while facing an opponent was normal… For a living being…

The General was a corpse trapped and fused into melted armor. He didn't think, didn't have a mind. It was a dead body moved by what I suspected was a combination of instinct, some absurd form of muscle memory, and duty.

He always placed himself between me and the throne. Throughout the fight, the King and Queen Slime's throne was the only untouched thing in this place. I didn't know the full story, but even when this castle was attacked, he had protected those two thrones. Even in death, he continued fighting with mastery, protecting the thrones from invaders, trying to adapt and attack me, focusing mainly on my eyes… Even dead…

… He still screamed in hatred when he saw me.

An instinctive reaction, tied to a fury and rage so deeply rooted in his body that, even dead for probably millennia, his hatred manifested in one word: Foreigner.

Right before I moved to strike the General—this time to kill him, or rather, to destroy his body—Millia formed some words again:

"Can you hold him down? I want to try something…" The letters appeared quickly, more firmly than before. "Put me in front of him and leave the rest to me. Trust me."

I frowned but didn't stop to argue. My body twisted and disappeared from the spot where I had stood, Shadowflame enveloping me to prevent everything around from being destroyed. The General had no time to react before I pressed his body against the ground with my nightmare-infused foot, creating a crater in the room that spread cracks like a web across the floor.

I summoned the hands of the Bone Helm, commanding two to each limb. Simultaneously, my shadow distorted, growing until it stretched beneath the armor. Nightmare hands emerged from it, gripping the General even more tightly. I placed the tip of the Ice Blade against the neck of the armor and poured my nightmare energy and mana into the sword.

The nightmare energy acted as a mediator between my mana and the blade. My mana energized the sword—not enough to create an ice beam like the ones I used against Salem, but sufficient to cover the armor, starting from the neck where the tip touched, with a layer of frost that further slowed his struggle.

Millia didn't wait for my confirmation—perhaps sensing the situation or trusting me to protect her—and leapt from the inner pocket of my armor onto my shoulder. The moment she emerged from the leather and fur of the Remnant of the Deerclops, the General's struggle ceased entirely.

A moment ago, he had been fighting with all his strength, even with every limb restrained and freezing. The next instant, he froze—literally—as if finally realizing he was dead and then dying for good.

"You can let him go, Devas... He won't hurt you," Millia wrote beside me. I felt her gaze fixed on the fallen armor.

"That's not my fear," I muttered. The General couldn't harm me, even if he wanted to. I didn't release the bindings I had placed on the armor and added, "I'm not worried about myself, Millia, but about you."

She created a small green hand and poked my cheek twice before pointing downward and shaping the words: "Trust me, just let him go."

She seemed... not exactly like herself, but better than before. She was still sad—I'd been around Millia long enough to pick up on the nuances of her emotions, even though she was a slime—but she seemed better than a few minutes ago.

I looked at the armor for a moment longer before stepping back, lifting my foot off the metal and withdrawing the black hands of the Bone Helm and my shadow, along with the Nightmares within it.

The General remained motionless on the ground, like the corpse he was, before slowly starting to move. He used his arms to push himself up and turn—not towards me, but towards Millia—and began to kneel.

He placed his right knee on the ground, resting his left arm—with the shield—on his left knee, while his right fist, melted around the hilt of his sword, struck the floor. As with all his movements, there was no sound except for the creak of his armor and the faint hum emanating from within.

He didn't speak, react, or move further. He simply knelt, head bowed to the ground.

"I was sure he'd try to attack me with renewed fury upon realizing you were with me," I remarked to the slime on my shoulder, while keeping my gaze fixed on the armor in front of me. "I imagine you know why that didn't happen."

"Slimes can communicate with words, even though I don't have that ability yet. It's a bit complicated... But I'll learn!" The small hand Millia had created scratched the back of what would be her neck, if she had one. "But the most common form of communication is through mana. All slimes are born with the ability to infuse their emotions and feelings into their mana. That's how most, if not all, communicate, especially when not speaking to other species."

A new piece of information, one I had no idea about. But it made sense, given that slimes were essentially mana condensed into a gelatinous form around a core, which was also primarily made of mana.

"I'm doing it right now. My mana was hidden while I was inside your armor. Now, I'm transmitting how I feel to Uncle Pinky's core..." Millia explained after a moment.

I focused on Millia's mana for a moment.

It was subtle, so subtle that I wouldn't have noticed if she hadn't mentioned it. Her mana was the same, but there was a sort of... wavelength—if I could call it that—different about it. The best comparison that came to mind was a whale's sonar, only silent.

Again, it made sense, but something about the explanation didn't add up.

"You said his core is broken, didn't you?" I asked. Damn, the guy was a corpse.

Millia hesitated for a moment, her gel darkening slightly as if blushing, before forming the words: "I did... I wasn't sure it would work, since his core is fragmented inside his body, but luckily, it did! :D"

I blinked, turning my head to the small slime in the corner of my vision.

"You weren't sure and still asked me to trust you?"

"But I was confident!" She pointed at me with her small green hand. "And if something went wrong, I was also confident you'd protect me!"

Somehow, the words she shaped seemed confident too. I shook my head lightly, amused. Millia's body trembled for a moment as if laughing—and I knew she was—before the tremor slowly subsided.

"...Can I tell a story?"

I looked at the words forming slowly and then at the General kneeling on the ground, giving a simple nod. Millia stood still for a full second before beginning to shape her words.

"Uncle Pinky isn't really my uncle. Neither Dad nor Mom have siblings. It wasn't common back then. Before Dad unified all slimes under his banner, it was rare for more than one slime to survive the spring where they were born."

"Spring?" I asked before she could continue.

I had a vague idea of how slimes were born—at least in nature. The bestiary I had documented that. But that was the reality of today's Terraria, not of the time when the King Slime wasn't even a king, however many years ago.

As for the other method of birth, I had no idea and certainly wouldn't be the one to ask Millia how it worked. But if someone else did, I'd definitely be the one to beat them up.

"Spring is the name given to places conducive to the birth of slimes. They're usually circular clearings located directly above Mana Stone veins or within caves near the surface," Millia explained with the tone of someone reciting words from a book or lecture. "Of course, slimes can be born outside springs, but that's rarer... or at least it was."

Millia's unease was palpable. This wasn't the first time she acted this way whenever today's slimes were mentioned. To her, they were strange, hollow, and soulless—as she'd written many times. After a slight shiver, she continued.

"Uncle Pinky isn't Dad's spring sibling, much less Mom's. Dad said he was born alone—I still think he was lying! And Mom was a creation of Aunt Alice."

So, in translation: basically, Millia's dad had genocided all his siblings in the spring where he was born, and her mom was a pet of the Empress of Light... Not the strangest thing I'd heard about slimes.

I shrugged mentally and remained silent, letting her continue shaping the words.

"But even though he wasn't born at the same time or in the same spring as Dad, he still called him his brother. His one and true brother, the first slime he trusted with his life. That's why he's my uncle... And now he's dead... I didn't even get to say goodbye."

The little slime seemed down, her letters trembling, reflecting her sadness. Millia jumped off my shoulder after those words, landing softly on the ground before the armor. I tensed as the armor moved, ready to obliterate it if something happened. It wasn't necessary.

The armor merely bowed its head lower, never once looking directly at Millia, like a soldier or a loyal guard.

"Uncle Pinky was Dad's personal guard, as well as the General of his army. He loved telling jokes whenever he wasn't on duty. Dad loved them, Mom found them dull — but I knew she secretly enjoyed them too, even if she tried to hide it. I loved the stories he told, especially the one about the first time he and Dad fought."

Millia slowly walked to the front of the armor as she continued her story.

"Dad mistook Uncle Pinky for a baby slime when they first met and never let him live it down," she seemed happy at the memory before explaining, "Uncle Pinky was born with a peculiarity: his gel was much denser and tougher than a normal slime's, but that made him smaller and more vulnerable to blunt impacts. Dad always laughed when he remembered how Uncle Pinky would fly like a kite with just a little shove."

There was a nostalgic tone in her voice, but it was a nostalgia tinged with sadness — an emotion no child should carry. Millia stopped a few inches away from the armor.

"He trained himself to absorb blows like no one else, didn't he?" I asked.

"He did," Millia confirmed with a nod, not turning around. "Only Dad could match Uncle Pinky, but even he couldn't surpass him."

For a few seconds, she didn't write anything, just 'stared' at the General in front of her.

"Uncle Pinky fused himself with his Palladium armor somehow... That must have hurt so much..."

Without hesitation, Millia leapt closer to the armor and shaped her body, creating a small green tendril.

The moment her gel touched the metal, it cracked, glowing in a vibrant pink hue. First, a small crack appeared, then quickly spread from the fist to the wrist, then up the forearm, consuming the entire arm before spreading across the armor.

That's when I realized: it wasn't the armor cracking on its own but something inside it, forcing its way out. In a matter of seconds, the armor, now completely fractured, glowed brightly in a pink hue before collapsing into brittle pieces. It was as if time had finally caught up with the metal, disintegrating it in an instant.

Amidst the remnants was a small pink orb — even smaller than Millia. She was already tiny, barely ten centimeters, but Pink was smaller still, only five centimeters in diameter. Honestly, it was impressive he'd managed to stretch himself enough to fill the armor, as he had seemed much larger while encased in it.

Now that Pinky was fully visible, it was easy to see that his core was shattered. No, less than that — it was just a few scattered fragments floating within the pink gel, which somehow still held its shape, even without a complete core.

"I always knew it was true, always believed Dad and Uncle Pinky when they said so, but… seeing it is different."

The words Millia shaped seemed almost hesitant as she and the lifeless General stared at one another.

"The immortal General... The title is fitting... Who did this to you, Uncle?"

I could feel the blend of emotions permeating her words: admiration, sadness, and something I could only describe as rage. I didn't interfere. I felt I shouldn't. Not yet.

Millia shaped another small tendril, this time extending the gel of her body until it touched the other slime's form. The moment their gels connected, I felt Millia's mana surge, pulsing intensely within her small frame. A moment later, the General's body began to glow.

And then, he was gone, absorbed into the now slightly larger and pink-tinted body of the Slime Princess.

Millia shaped four words, carrying a sadness so deep it was almost tangible:

"You can rest now."

[...]---[...]

Yay, everything in Terraria is kind of sad and confusing!

Sorry for the delay, it's December and everything seems busier this month. I won't stop posting, don't worry. Some people asked if I'd be taking a hiatus until after Christmas, and the answer is: no.

Well, about the chapter, what can I say?...

I created a lore for the entire world of Terraria, from Goblins to Terrarians, from Fae to Slimes, and so on. Every boss or named creature in the world has a lore behind it... or almost all of them, I might have forgotten someone.

In Pink's case, I played around with the description he has in the game, in addition to, of course, creating my own thing. He was inspired by two characters: Igris, from Solo Leveling, and Artorias, from Dark Souls. For all intents and purposes, he was the most loyal knight of the King Slime and the person he trusted the most.

Just like the Deerclops, he was also pretty... well, nerfed to hell. Fifteen thousand years is a long time. Interestingly, both of them had similar fates...

As for the Vortex Pillar, that's something I plan to talk more about over time, just like the Solar Pillar, which has been mentioned before.

Lastly, Millia... The little Princess Slime is one of Terraria's protagonists. I won't say the exact number, but if Devas didn't exist, there would be a few beings who would be the protagonists in the world. Millia is one of them.

I plan to develop her more in the future. I really like her character. I like slimes in general, and I ended up creating a lore for them that I think is really cool, and I plan to introduce it as soon as I can, especially the King Slime. This guy is kind of monstrous...

Well, I think that's it. I've written a lot and it's late, I need to go to sleep, it's about 4 in the morning. Good night everyone, and happy reading!

PS: It was obvious that Millia would imitate Devas in several things.

[NeXT]

Before anything else, I edited the previous chapter. The only person who calls the General "Pinky" is Millia. His real name is Pink; Pinky is a nickname. I got confused, my apologies.

[...]---[...]

I looked at Millia worriedly for a moment.

Even though I had never seen this personally—at least not in Terraria—I had witnessed something similar in other works of "fiction" which, like the world I was currently in, had likely become reality. It seemed to be the norm, so I knew slimes were cannibalistic.

Actually, "cannibalistic" wasn't exactly the right word, although it wasn't entirely wrong either.

The bestiary, in the section dedicated to slimes, described this behavior as fusion, where the stronger slime absorbed the weaker one. This could happen in two ways: by killing it and destroying its core, or with the core still intact, using brute force—whether through the physical extension of its body or its mana, overpowering the mana of the slime being consumed.

At least, that was what the bestiary claimed. However, observing closely, I realized that what was happening with Millia wasn't exactly fusion. While her gel was taking on a pink hue similar to the Pink's, the General's mana was being completely assimilated. That was the right word: assimilation.

It wasn't fusion, where two become one. At least, not what I was seeing at that moment—it might have been different if the General were alive, but that wasn't the case. Millia was fully assimilating the Pink: the body, the gel, the core, and even the mana. If I had to guess, I'd say she was also absorbing part of the abilities the Pink possessed.

It took just over three seconds for the changes in Millia to complete and everything to stabilize. The changes to her were numerous:

First: the little slime had grown a bit. She was still small but had increased by about one or two centimeters.

Second: the color of her gel had changed. It now had a soft pink hue, with some small streaks of the original light green, but only near the core.

Third: her mana was much denser, as was her gel. Before, Millia looked like a fluffy little ball, but now the density of her gel was evident just by looking at her.

Even so, no matter how much I focused, I couldn't sense anything related to the blessing of the Empress of Light, which the Pink possessed. It seemed that the blessing was something that couldn't be "inherited" or assimilated—or, in this case, Millia's act of assimilating the General had been enough for the echo of that ancient blessing to vanish entirely.

"How are you? Are you okay?" I asked, slightly urgently, my concern growing. She hadn't moved or written anything since she had assimilated the Pink.

I withdrew my Nightmares back into my shadow and stored my armor, along with my accessories and weapons, inside the Voidbag.

There was no reason to keep wearing them. Besides, I couldn't sense anything or anyone inside the castle with my senses, nor could I see any points on the minimap—red, green, yellow, or orange. The stream had already confirmed I'd cleared the dungeon. The General was the only enemy here.

I closed the stream's completion screen and sat cross-legged beside Millia, who remained silent. I let my hand hover over the Slime Staff, ready to call her back inside. If anything could help her, in case something had gone wrong with this assimilation, it would be the staff.

If that wasn't enough, I was confident I could reach Alalia in just over five seconds—whether by tearing through and destroying everything between me and the dryad or using a Wormhole Potion, whichever was faster, it didn't matter.

To my relief, none of these measures were necessary.

"I feel a little confused. This is the first time I've done this; it feels strange…" The words flowed quickly, forming in the soft pink hue of the little slime's body. "But I'm fine… Or almost… Actually, not really…"

She didn't hesitate to jump onto my right knee. I could feel her looking at my face. It was more noticeable now, with her mana denser, as if most of her "gaze" was focused on me.

"When Daddy and Uncle Pinky first met, they fought for weeks. Daddy won in the end—he always wins. But when he tried to absorb Uncle Pinky, he couldn't." The words formed in the air as she continued her story.

"Even with Uncle Pinky unconscious and his body completely submerged in Daddy's gel, he still wasn't absorbed. His gel and mana were too dense for that. Hours later, he woke up and crawled out of Daddy's gel, and then they started fighting again. This repeated for almost a whole year before they realized the fight would last forever. Only then did they stop to talk."

I placed my hand beside her, palm up. Millia jumped onto my hand a moment later. She was heavier, much heavier than she should've been for how little she had grown.

I didn't say anything, just read the story.

"Mommy always joked it was impressive they took so little time." She seemed amused for a moment before her body undulated in a way that looked very much like a tired sigh.

"He didn't resist… I know Uncle Pinky had been dead for a long time, but I feel like he should've resisted anyway. He just… didn't want to. His body didn't want to…"

I pulled out the Slime Staff and placed it in front of Millia. She "looked" at the staff for a moment before her "gaze" returned to me.

"Can you take Daddy and Mommy's throne? I don't want them to stay here, alone…"

"I'll take the whole castle." I promised solemnly. "A princess needs a castle; it's time you had one again." Millia seemed amused once more. I'd even say happy, though maybe it was just my imagination—something I wanted to see.

She formed a pink hand before waving at me, saying goodbye.

"I'm going to rest for a bit… See you tomorrow, Devas. Good night."

"Good night, Millia," I said as the little slime glowed and disappeared inside the Slime Staff.

I sat for a few moments after Millia returned to the Slime Staff, my thoughts racing.

I didn't know if I'd done the right thing—letting Millia come with me into the dungeon and witness, do, all of this. As much as I didn't want to hide anything from her—she deserved to know what had happened to her species and her kingdom—it was my duty to protect her, and I felt like I'd failed in that somehow today…

"I'm not good at this…" I muttered, resting my hand on my knee and standing up.

("Fatherhood?") Ozma's voice echoed in my mind.

"Caring." I shook my head. "Destroying is much easier."

The following minutes passed quickly. I ran through the castle, placing everything I could inside the Voidbag. I dismantled walls, tore up the floors and ceilings. I took all the furniture—both the relatively intact and the destroyed ones—the statues, and the paintings. Everything. I left nothing behind, not even rubble.

In the end, the castle, or what remained of it, became just a barren lot, with nothing but exposed stone and dirt. I had a dismantled castle inside my inventory, which I intended to rebuild and renovate for the little slime sleeping inside the staff on my belt.

I needed to study the Mystic Symbols and Runes on the walls too; there were many I didn't recognize.

Just before leaving the dungeon, I pulled the Prismatic Seal Key from the Voidbag and held it between my fingers. It was an old-fashioned key, like one for an ancient gate. Its prismatic surface, like crystal, reflected lights in rainbow hues.

I didn't analyze the key; I'd already done so when I received it after the second level of the dungeon, where I found Millia. It was the key to the seal imprisoning the Slime Queen—Millia's mother. Her father was likely in Story Mode, or so I thought.

"You two better be alive…" I whispered to the key.

If they were, I'd find them, wherever they were. And if they were mad, insane, cursed, or in any kind of danger, I'd save them. I'd heal them.

Ozma was wrong: I didn't consider myself Millia's father. She already had a father and mother. I was her caretaker, perhaps a guardian. But family? She already had one.

And I'd make sure to find them.

… Even if I had to dig my way down to hell with my bare hands.

[…]

It was still night when I left the dungeon. The sun wouldn't rise for a few more hours. I glanced at the horizon; the storm remained unchanged. It was strange, abnormal in a way that almost felt normal...

I made sure not to raise my gaze too high...

I frowned as a red thunderbolt lit up the darkness with a crimson hue, almost as if it could feel my stare. I watched the storm for a few moments longer before pulling Lucy out of the VoidBag.

("Ready to chop down some trees now, Lucy's partner?!") The axe was as enthusiastic as ever. ("Can we clear a whole forest?!")

"A forest is a bit much, but how about a few dozen trees?" I replied, then added, "Maybe even a hundred."

("Yay!")

I also needed to clear the clearing. It was large, but not enough to fit the Proto-A. Sure, I could simply pull the ship out and let it crush the tallest treetops, but I'd promised Lucy we'd chop some trees. It wouldn't hurt to spend a few minutes on that.

I spun the axe's wooden handle in my hands and approached the nearest tree before striking. I held back my strength, of course, but even so, one swing of the axe was enough to cut it clean in half. Lucy let out a joyful cheer, and I felt part of the tree's vitality transfer to me, coursing through the axe and into my hands.

It wasn't much, but it would be enough for an ordinary person to keep chopping trees indefinitely, provided they had the willpower and enough trees. The way it worked always surprised me. It was a use of nightmare energy I'd never seen or read about anywhere.

Neither my Nightmares, nor the Hallucinations of the Deerclops, nor the Deerclops itself used nightmare energy in this way. I'd read the Codex Umbra multiple times, and none of the spells or rituals described in Maxwell's book mentioned anything similar to the way Lucy instinctively manipulated her nightmare energy.

There were a few similar spells and rituals, of course, but they all involved stealing sanity, not vitality. Lucy, as far as I knew, was unique in this regard. Well, for now. I'd been trying to replicate her abilities for some time, without success, but I felt I was starting to understand how it worked, even if just a little.

As I divided my attention between Lucy and the trees we were chopping, I pulled up the dungeon completion screen and began to read.

-//-

[Congratulations!! You completed the dungeon 100%!]

[Calculating rewards!]

[Secret mission completed!]

[Rewards calculated!]

Rewards: Life Crystal (3), Healing Potion (Normal - 10), Pink Gel (5), 5,000,000 SP, Ring of The Last Slime (Old-Copy)

Completion reward (100%): Map of the Old World (Terraria)

[...]

[Secret mission!]

[Let "Mil'li'a-io Kr'yo 'Li'ja Jou-sk" absorb and assimilate the body of "Pink'ki Kr'ja Nou-sk"]

Requirements: Complete the mission [Pacifist Ending: Spare "Mil'li'a-io Kr'yo 'Li'ja Jou-sk"] in [Expert Mode].

~ Even in death, the most loyal… ~

Reward: Pinky Promise.

-//-

I quickly skimmed through the information. The first thing I noticed was that sparing Millia had been the right choice. Besides being the most moral decision, of course. Even if there were no reward and I knew that, I wouldn't have changed what I did. Sparing Millia was always the only option.

The second thing I noticed: the name of one of the rewards was a bad omen. Ring of The Last Slime? That name didn't sound good at all...

I stopped chopping trees, much to Lucy's mild annoyance. Despite that, the deforestation we'd done seemed sufficient for her to sulk for only a few seconds before accepting that the fun was over. I strapped her to my waist and claimed the dungeon rewards.

I stored the Life Crystals, potions, and five liters of Pink Gel inside the VoidBag as soon as they appeared before me. The crystals were excellent, as were the potions, and I needed to figure out what made pink gel different from regular gel — though I already had a hunch. The SP was always useful, and five million was no small amount.

Still, I focused on what mattered. I took the Ring of The Last Slime (Old-Copy) in my hands.

The ring was small, so small it would only fit my pinky finger — a cruel irony. It had a rusted bronze hue, with orange tones reminiscent of Pink's armor. Engraved on it were five runes: four on the outer side and one on the inner side.

I recognized almost all the runes: three of the outer ones and the inner one, though the latter was strange. It was an Anti-Foreigner rune, similar to the one on the Ice Blade, but something about it was different. Familiar, yes, but… distorted.

Normal runes always carried a wild aura, something natural, like an untouched forest or a free animal. Even the runes I created had the same essence, albeit less intense than the ones I'd seen elsewhere, like those carved into the Ice Blade or the chains binding the Mother Slime. But this rune wasn't like that.

It felt — I hesitated to say — restrained. I hesitated to use that word because it seemed like the rune had been forcefully torn into the metal and exuded something akin to madness and hatred. It wasn't natural…

Artificial. That was the best word to describe it, though I couldn't pinpoint why.

Still, and curiously, unlike the Ice Blade — which gave me the impression it disliked me the moment I held it — the ring didn't convey any similar feeling. At least, not one I could perceive...

I shook my head, pushing those thoughts away, and used Analyze: Item on the ring.

-//-

[Ring of The Last Slime (Old-Copy)]

Runes: Regeneration / Resistance / Magic Resistance / Sharp Resistance / Anti-Foreigner (False-Hatred)

Type: Accessory

Rarity: Pink (Locked) (Heavily deteriorated) (Previously "Lime")

Prefix: [The General's Loyalty]

Defense: 1000 (Weakened)

Durability: 1238/50000

Ability (1): Absorbs the wearer's mana to protect a small area around the ring within a large margin.

Ability (2): Absorbs the wearer's mana to significantly accelerate natural regeneration.

[...]

[The General's Loyalty]

"Forgive me... My dear brother... I have failed..."

Description:

When worn by someone protecting the King Slime, Queen Slime, Princess Slime, or their subjects, the ring's abilities become three times more potent.

The Ring of The Last Slime becomes inert if used against the King Slime, Queen Slime, Princess Slime, or their subjects.

The ring's abilities can only be used by slimes or someone considered the [Princess' Guardian].

[...]

Description:

A ring worn around a slime's core. An ancient practice initiated by the original bearer of the Ring of The Last Slime. This technique is employed only by slimes with excellent control over their mana and bodies, ensuring the protection does not weaken or harm them.

The ring was forged from a palladium, gold, and cobalt alloy by a renowned Fae craftsman. It was commissioned by the King Slime himself as a gift for his friend and most loyal soldier, shortly after the founding of the Slime Kingdom.

A copy of something that broke millennia ago in a battle so bloody and enduring that it destroyed an ancient kingdom. The ring retains the appearance it had shortly before it was destroyed, alongside the core of its first and only user.

The worn and weathered appearance is but a small indication of everything the ring and its bearer had to face... A long-forgotten story of the most loyal slime...

... The last slime standing in that battle.

-//-

Since Millia was alive, the ring's name must have referred only to that battle. That, or to the fact that Pink was the last unsealed slime, given that Millia was sealed, and the Queen Slime seemed to be as well...

"Damn, alright, at least it's an explanation…" I muttered, even if it wasn't the best one.

The ring's abilities were simple but effective in what they aimed to do: defense and regeneration. Considering it was created to protect the General's core, the choice of these runes made perfect sense.

[(MOD)GeniusBillionairePlayboy]

You know, I get that this ring was commissioned and isn't artificial, unlike the mimic ring, but it's still weird that you managed to get another ring that was part of a creature's heart… Well, core, in this case.

(Iron Man emoji holding two coins)

I dismissed Stark's message before it could blow up and went back to analyzing the ring—or rather, the rune on its inner part. The "false" and "hatred" markings next to the rune's name told me much of what I needed to know. A quick Analyze: Item focused on the rune confirmed my theories.

That rune was something Pink had created, literally. He hadn't just carved the rune, as I could easily do; he invented it.

Runes, as far as I knew, were supposed to be something created by the world itself—a kind of world language, spoken by the world. At first, I doubted this—it could've been the creation of some god—but over time, that theory seemed the most plausible answer.

The confirmation came when I felt Alalia's mana again a few hours ago. The mana she radiated had the same "essence" that runes seemed to carry. Of course, I could be wrong, but I was almost certain I wasn't.

Pink's Anti-Foreigner rune wasn't like that. It wasn't something created by the world, but by Pink himself. That's why it felt less wild, more artificial: because it was artificial.

He hadn't just modified a rune—something I knew was possible, though difficult—he'd created another one entirely. If runes were the language of the world, Pink had invented a word using this language as a base, potentially the start of another possible dialect, so to speak.

What made this even more absurd was that he hadn't created this rune through calculations, experience, or genius. The General had forged it out of pure, unfiltered hatred for everything foreign to the world. A "word" repeated countless times—murmured, spoken, shouted, whispered, growled—for so long that it eventually became "official."

The guy literally carved the rune using his own core! He literally screamed this "word" at me the moment he saw me.

Fuck, I was impressed.

Was the rune weaker than the original? Yes, that was evident—and by a large margin, I'd say. But, in contrast, it was much broader in scope. The Anti-Foreigner rune of the Ice Blade was effective against everything not born in Terraria or not considered native to it. And probably—though I hadn't tested it—it was far more potent when used in Terraria.

The rune in the Ring of the Last Slime, however, was effective against anything the wearer considered foreigner. There was no "world" as a base, nor did it need one. The hatred and madness radiating from the rune were sufficient; they were its fuel—perhaps even more than mana itself. If Pink deemed something foreign, the rune did too.

If someone was crazy enough to consider a rock foreign and had enough hatred for it, then the rune would also deem it foreign...

"So that's why the ring doesn't hate me?…" my thoughts escaped my lips. "No, it's not just that…"

Aside from the ring not having a user to dictate what was foreign or not, and thus to consider me as such, Pink was loyal above all else. The ring's prefix said it, Millia's story said it, the ring's description said it. The scene I had witnessed when entering the throne room said it.

If his hatred was vast and ancient enough to create a rune, his loyalty was even greater and older. Strong enough to make the rune not affect me and to allow me to use the ring's abilities even though I wasn't a slime.

The bastard was dead, insane, and hated me, but somehow he realized I was protecting Millia. She had probably told him that, and he decided it was okay to ignore all his hatred and consider me her guardian.

"Fuck, I'm absolutely impressed." This time, I said it out loud.

I'm totally going to copy that rune, no matter how hard it might be. In fact, if it were up to me, I'd use this rune as the foundation for everything. So far, I hadn't had a basis for creating my own rune system—not yet, at least—but this was a start. An excellent start.

And if what I had in mind worked, I'd be able to strengthen this rune and, by extension, the rune language I planned to create. It wasn't anywhere near comparable to the real thing, but I had a "world" within me. If my Spiritual Realm was considered a world, then I might as well connect it to this rune language.

I was a Foreigner to everything. So, logically, everything and everyone that wasn't me, that I considered, that didn't come from my "world," would be foreign to me...

[AdvocateOfGenderEquality]

Holy crap, wipe that smile off your face! I'm getting chills over here! Damn creepy orange eyes…

(Generic guy emoji hiding in the corner of a room)

[MagicalGirlSera-Tan]

You know, I was thinking… If I offered Gabriel as a sacrifice, would you join my peerage? One of the Four Great Seraphs in exchange for you becoming a Devil, what do you say?~

(Magical girl emoji holding a rope and duct tape)

[JustAnOrdinaryPeasant]

No! Don't take that deal! Making deals with devils is bad, evil! Becoming one is even worse! Don't do it! Don't go down that path!

The messages appeared in rapid succession. Kazuma's made me realize I had an almost maniacal grin on my face and that my second racial trait had surfaced on its own. I massaged my cheeks with one hand while dismissing the message that had emerged from inside a pair of panties with the other.

The other two messages caught my attention even more. First: Serafall's message came out of a rift in the air, with fire and a demonic landscape in the background, carried by a small stereotypical devil with red skin and horns. The last message, however, was delivered by something that could only be described as a templar knight, who, after dropping the message into the air, leapt, drew his sword, and began fighting the little devil.

Second: it was the first time I'd seen that nickname...

"A new viewer in the (CHAT - FATE)?" I mused aloud, before grabbing the little demon and the templar knight by their necks and tossing them away, where they vanished into the air.

And a believer in the Big G, no less. At least, that's what it seemed like, judging by the small templar knight who had appeared to fight Serafall's little demon. This was the first one, right? Well, if I didn't count Rin and probably a few people from HOTD…

Whoever they were, they didn't seem to be a paid member of the stream. At least not until three seconds after the message popped up in front of me, because then they were: Stark had bought a membership for the person. He liked doing that, even organizing giveaways on the stream from time to time, often in competition with Serafall. The two seemed to have some sort of money-related rivalry.

When the person with the nickname [JustAnOrdinaryPeasant] became a member of the stream, they—he or she, I wasn't sure yet—went straight to the (CHAT - FATE), confirming my theory. Curiously, the viewer didn't send any more messages after that one, even after I asked about them and several people in the (CHAT) requested another message… Strange.

The nickname, combined with the templar who delivered the earlier message, gave me some hints about who this person might be. But since they didn't seem keen on commenting, I didn't start guessing names randomly to provoke a reaction. Instead, I sent a message to Jinn.

("Keep an eye on this person. Actually, keep an eye on new viewers in general. Notify Jarvis too and ask him to compile a list of all the new nicknames that show up and send it to me later.") I thought, careful not to let the mental mic pick it up.

("Worried this person might cause trouble for you?") Jinn replied almost immediately.

("Maybe… I don't think they will, but better safe than sorry.") So far, the stream had sent invites to people who theoretically matched my personality, even if not completely.

None of the viewers handpicked by the stream had caused any real problems. Sure, Serafall and Ainz could be considered morally ambiguous. Even so, the two had a good relationship with me, and I didn't see either of them planning anything truly dangerous for me.

I mean, nothing beyond the usual. I was fairly certain Ainz had some contingencies ready for the chance of me showing up in his world, and Serafall definitely had some sort of obsession with wanting to turn me into a Devil. But that was it. Neither of them wanted to kill me... something I couldn't confidently say about anyone from the Church, especially if they were a fanatic.

I'd already eaten angel feathers, talked daily with a pagan goddess—even if she was from another world and didn't seem like a real goddess—and dealt with literal devils, one of whom wanted to turn me into their kind.

And that wasn't even counting my Nightmares, racial traits, the Bone Helm—which any uninformed person could easily mistake for some satanic mask—and other things, like consuming part of a God of Light… I wasn't paranoid, at least not as much as I should be, but better safe than sorry.

...If Batman or the Joker showed up in the (CHAT), that's when my real headaches would start.

After that little event, I turned my attention to the remaining rewards.

The Ancient World Map was made of animal hide. An Analyze: Item confirmed it was from a type of giant wolf that no longer existed in this era. I examined the map for a few seconds, reading the city names and analyzing the locations of the three major continents and some islands, before tossing it into the VoidBag.

"I'll compare this to a modern world map later," I said aloud, a habit I'd developed to avoid using the mental mic.

Speaking my thoughts out loud was much better than risking real thoughts being overheard…

I had a few maps of Terraria in my inventory, of course, but none that were global. There was one of the kingdom, one of the kingdom's surroundings, one of the continent, and another of the area around WinterHord that I'd bought before heading there, but that was it. A global map was missing—something I'd take care of as soon as morning came.

As I pulled the Proto-A from my inventory and positioned the ship in the clearing, now expanded by several dozen meters, my eyes turned to the last reward: Pinky Promise.

The moment the item appeared, it was clear the reward wasn't for me. It was a tiny princess crown, made of silver—or what appeared to be silver—adorned with a heart-shaped gem that strongly resembled the jewel on the Queen Slime's throne, but pink instead of purple.

I analyzed the crown, mainly to understand the runes inscribed on it and ensure it wouldn't harm Millia. The material wasn't silver but a platinum-orichalcum alloy… Once satisfied with the analysis, I stored it in the VoidBag.

…Not gonna lie, I was a bit tempted to melt the crown down just for the orichalcum, but that thought quickly passed.

"A birthday gift the King and General made in secret from the Queen and Princess…" I sighed. "Alright… I'll give this to Millia tomorrow. We've had enough events and emotions for today."

After checking that the EchoMirror was functioning properly—in case Dylan or someone wanted to contact me—and ensuring the Ring of the Last Slime wouldn't end up taking off my pinky finger, I boarded the Proto-A.

"Time to get to work." I clapped my hands, determined. "The sooner we finish this, the better…"

... Now, the question: how many places and barriers—preferably all—could I inscribe the Anti-Foreigner rune and the defense against foreigners rune?…

Shortly after sunrise, Dylan, Selina, Robyn, and Gilbert showed up in my clearing, accompanied by Melissa, Darnell, and—for some damn reason I couldn't fathom—Helena and Charlotte.

I could already tell that today was going to be one of those days...

[...]---[...]

Apologies for the delay. I had some issues, including a power outage yesterday for a few hours due to a storm, and preparations for Christmas. All of that ended up causing a bit of a delay.

One question: Would you prefer an Omake based on Halloween or Christmas? I wasn't able to release the Halloween Omake; it's something canonical, so I left it here on hold. If you'd like, I can include it in the next chapter.

Now, about the chapter: It's a chapter with explanations, theories, and ideas. I won't go into too much detail, but I can say that from the next chapter on, things will move more quickly. I don't want to drag things out too much.

As always, good night and happy reading!

PS: Apologies for the delay in responding to messages, I was busy.

PPS: Pink is totally a Dark Souls character.