Lysander takes something out of my bag.

“Here,” he says, holding a dark blue sphere out for me to see. Wait a minute, how did that get in there?! Don’t tell me, he put it in while I wasn’t looking!?

“How—”

“This is a slime core — the very same one you obtained earlier. If I infuse it with a bit of my own mana…” 

A gelatinous layer coalesces around the orb floating between Lysander’s open hands. He releases the newly-reformed slime, letting it fall onto the ground with a wet “plop”.

“I can essentially ‘revive’ it! You see, I have manipulated its liquids via water-element magic, which allows me to rehydrate its core and stimulate its life once more.” He smiles at his handiwork. “Isn’t it adorable?”

Adorable?! That thing almost killed me, and you’re calling it cute? This guy’s crazy for sure! Is there anything in that blond head??

Lysander’s eyes sparkle with what I can only assume is a glow of insanity. “Now, Sir Clark, is the moment to put all you’ve learned into practice! Seize this opportune happenstance, and become stronger!”

Is he serious? What the hell is he thinking?! I can’t do it! I can’t do it again… not so soon, not now, maybe not ever… there’s no way!!

The memory of drowning is still fresh in my mind. Even looking at that thing makes my chest feel tight and my throat constrict. My body feels like it’s made of lead. I’m stuck, I can’t do anything, I can’t, I can’t… 

Shit! I’m frozen to the spot. My legs won’t move, not even to run or to kick the slime away. That thing’s coming closer. I don’t have anything to defend myself with, I don’t know how to use magic and I, I, I…

Wait, there has to be a way. He wouldn’t do this to me without a good reason. Maybe if I can get at the slime core I… I can destroy it somehow, maybe?

I let the slime approach me, taking care not to make any sudden movements. Yes, nice and slow, I’ll gain its trust and make a sneak attack when it’s got its guard down… 

I’ll use this time to observe it. It leaves a trail of cyan-tinged slime on the ground, trailing around like a snail; the ground seems to absorb any residue after a while. The grass where it passed over doesn’t look any different. Maybe a bit wetter. Maybe this slime moisturizes the things it touches.

It settles itself on the toes of my boot, meandering around at a leisurely pace. Alright, it trusts me. Sucker.

I plunge my hand deep into the slime’s body. Before either of us can process what’s happening, I feel around for the hard orb that’s sure to be the core… 

After a while of fumbling, though, my fingertips don’t make contact with anything but watery gel. Where’s the core? Don’t tell me it’s… gah, what the hell, what if the core is all spread out and only dries up posthumously…

What am I even supposed to do now? I’m elbow-deep in a hostile blob of jelly and no idea what’s going to happen to my forearm. I’m gonna die for sure. I’m gonna die here, never having made a name or a life for myself, dissolved and eaten by a slime monster of all things… what a sad way to go, huh.

My face is burning up. I imagine an infrared camera pointed at me, seeing neon orange-red pulse all over my head and chest. The back of my throat itches, and I know if I push myself any further I’ll burst into tears.

“Lysander,” I croak out. “I’ve had enough.”

Lysander taps the ground with his sword, and a mound of dirt builds up around the blade’s tip, seeping out from between the cobblestone. He directs the dirt towards the slime, and in a few minutes nothing remains of the blob except for a mud-covered orb. Seems like the dirt absorbed the water. Or maybe it’s the mana thing at work again. I really don’t know.

He puts his hand on my back, patting me from within a room-temperature gauntlet. I look back at him; he must have put his breastplate back on at some point, but I was too busy having a mental breakdown to notice.

“It’s alright.” Lysander nods at me. “You’re still a novice, Sir Clark. It isn’t your fault you lack the prior training. You can always try again…”

Although I know his words are meant to reassure me, they feel more like poison ivy against the back of my throat than the soothing ointment they should be… what kind of shit-for-brains idiot fucks up something this simple, anyway? Slimes are the most basic enemies around. If I can’t do this, then…

“I can’t handle this right now, man.”

“I understand, you must rest and recuperate. Worry not, we have plenty of time to practice.”

“Yeah?”

“If you stay the night, I can show you a good place to eat, too — it’ll be my treat this time. You see, I know all the innkeepers and tavern owners around here, so they’ll be friendly to any guest of mine…”  

Hah, the people’s hero as always. What help can someone like me offer to a guy like him, a guy who has everything? He’s really in his element here. All I’m doing is dragging him down.

Fuck this. I’ll save myself any further embarrassment and leave before I get kicked out.

“Sorry, Lysander. I’m going home.”

“I beg your pardon? Why?”

“It’s not your fault. I just need some alone time.”

I grab my pack and start walking in the direction of the city gates. But walking’s not good enough, so after a while I jog, but that’s not good enough either, and after a couple meters I break into a full-on run, enough to belabor my breathing —

The village passes me by, fading away in a blur of vibrant color and whitestone, fading into the distance where I should have kept it. I see the setting sun in the sky, casting molten gold light onto the world beneath. The air smells like baking bread.

“No, please, wait,” Lysander’s distant voice calls, “come back!”

I can’t wait any longer. I have to get out of here. I have to leave — go far away and never return. I can’t be here, around these people, these monsters, around this man… I have to go home. Home, where none of this shit can get at me…

I make it out of the gates and into the grassland. The earth is firm beneath my feet, unwelcoming like the lifeless hunk it is. I set down my pack and fumble for the warp gun I know is somewhere in there. Once I get it out, I make sure to set the coordinates properly, and I fire at a vacant patch of air. Same old, same old, through the gateway and sick to the pit of my stomach.

Lysander, if he’s watching… no, I don’t really care. I couldn’t care less about anything right now.

I land back home, at the returns terminal in front of the HQ building. It’s night-time, just past twilight; there’s nobody out front to greet me, as I thought. Those three all have better things to do, and my other coworkers probably haven’t noticed my absence. Whatever. I don’t need a welcome-back party. I’m only here to drop off company property. These warp guns aren’t for personal use.

After stuffing the pack and equipment back into the company lockers, I go out to the fifth-floor monorail station and wait for the next train. Sitting on one of the benches, I look up to stargaze. The sky is like a quilt of different shades of blue, picturesque paint swatches stitched together and plastered onto the inside of an observatory dome. The stars shine like rhinestones sewn in a rockstar’s jacket. The air is crisp, chill, like an apple straight from the fridge. It’s the kind of night where I just want to lie in bed, keeping the window open so I can listen to the crickets chirping outside.

Once I get back to the apartment, I change into a set clean clothes and settle into my floor mattress. I keep the window open and let the cool night air brush my face. I don’t mind the cold. An open window’s less effort than turning a fan on and off through the night. I get the chill of the outside air and the heat of the electric blanket around me. It’s great.

I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The next day, I wake up at noon to the sweet sight of 10+ missed calls. I check to see who they’re from. It’s from my mom’s number — and, as luck would have it, there’s another call coming in as soon as I finish scrolling through. Well, can’t leave her hanging.

“Whuh? Wha’s goin’ on?” I say, groggily.

My dad’s voice booms from the tinny cellphone speaker. “Come home now, son!”