Chapter Text
Derlord’s rucksack had been getting heavier as of late, his knees practically screamed at him to lessen the weight, but he was a relentless traveler, and even worse…a hoarder. There were times where his habit to keep loose material had actually come in handy, like the one time he used some vines as a makeshift rope to escape from a wyvern nest. He had still not found a use for his rune of bubbles, but he could tell it would come in handy one day, he could feel it.
So when he trudged back into the guild for another quest, the guildmaster noticed him immediately and went to pat him heartily on the back. The force shifted the weight of his backpack nearly knocking him over and Derlord had to will patience into reality. They weren’t friends; the guildmaster thought they were. He was too friendly for his own good, and overly touchy, Derlord guessed it was due to familiarity—they had both moved into the town around the same time a few years ago and in all fairness, Silv3rr was the closest thing he had to a friend.
“Der you’re back!” He smiled, or rather Derlord could hear the smile in his voice, it was hard to tell beneath the full set of silver armour that the guildmaster donned, “Your backpack is practically bursting at the seams, a successful trip I assume?”
Derlord walked past him with a grunt and sat at the desk. He tossed his rucksack down beside him and felt his shoulders immediately ease up, releasing tension he forgot he carried, “A quest that’s far away. Please.”
“Man, your conversational skills are great, as usual,” Silverr went behind the desk anyway, pulling up a withered old sheet that he placed gently in front of Derlord. Herb collecting, simple, but it would take a few days to reach the spot. Perfect for another solo adventure.
“Maybe you should sell some of your stuff before you set off, your back looks like it’s going to snap in half.”
“Absolutely not, I need all of it.” Derlord replied immediately.
“Pfft—this is exactly why your coin purse is lighter than air,” Silverr leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand with a lazy grin. “You spent your last pieces of gold on ‘anti-mimic chalk.’ Maybe you should invest in something that actually pays off. Like a summoning rune.”
Derlord stiffened in his seat, his armor clinking softly as he shifted uncomfortably. He stared down at the wooden grains of the table, his voice muffled and grumpy inside the helm.
“...No, Silverr,” Derlord muttered,“It feels... wrong. Yanking some creature out of its home just to follow me around? It’s not a partnership if they have no choice.”
“I know how your brain works, Der. You think it’s mean.” Silverr waved a hand dismissively. “But think about it practically. You don’t need to make your summon fight.”
Silverr pointed a finger at Derlord’s massive, overstuffed backpack that was currently taking up two chairs.
“You just get a little helper to carry your stuff. Think of it as hiring a squire who doesn’t talk back. You get a lighter load, they get to see the world. It’s a win-win.”
Derlord paused. He looked at the heavy pack. He thought about the way his knees had clicked during the last dungeon crawl. He rubbed the back of his neck, his metal gauntlet scraping against the helmet.
“If I’m not forcing it into combat... I suppose it’s just... logistics. A support role.”
He glanced at Silverr, then quickly looked away, crossing his arms defensively.
“...Fine. It’s not a terrible idea. I’ll... consider it. Strictly for the inventory benefits.”
Silverr sat back and smirked, “Try not to thank me all at once.”
“...Shut up,” Derlord grumbled, “...and thank you.”
“Awww, you do care!”
There was no turning back now.
He approached the altar wearily. It was a beautiful ornate thing that stood proudly surrounded in a shallow pool of water, the moonlight only enhanced its appeal. Derlord always thought its beauty was ironic, considering its ability to chain souls together.
Derlord had triple-checked the runes. He had sold his spare armor plating. He had even borrowed mana crystals from a man who absolutely was going to want them back with interest. If his summon was a dragon, the first thing he’d do is smoke the guy.
This was it.
His first, and most likely last, real summon.
He bit lightly into the skin of his thumb, just enough to draw blood, then he let it drip onto the rune he had placed down at the fountain’s centre.
The circle flared gold.
Smoke churned dramatically.
Power rippled through the air with a velocity that Derlord feared would have flung him if not for his golden armour weighing him down.
When the smoke cleared, there were no dragons. No armored spirits. No roaring fire elementals.
In the center of the circle sat a translucent, neon-green cube of gelatin, roughly the size of a toaster.
Blocky eyes formed haphazardly from what Derlord guessed was its face, then a mouth that smiled sheepishly at him, wide and wobbly.
“…Really.”
Derlord dragged a hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn’t know why he expected anything else. “A slime block,” he muttered, “Three months of savings…gone.”
The cube squelched softly in response.
Derlord stared at it. The slime stared back, if you could call the vague surface tension “staring.”
He waited for it to explode, or expand.
It jumped up with a squelch, slightly closer towards him.
He waited for it to evolve. Hoped, even.
It wobbled again, tilting its body in curiosity as it extended a small wobbly tentacle towards Derlord.
…
Derlord sighed the deep, exhausted sigh of a man who had just lost all his winnings at a casino. He crouched, picked up the cold, jiggly cube, and tucked it under his arm like a football. No use crying over spilled milk he figured, maybe he could sell it at the guild?
“Come on then, blob,” he said flatly.
The slime made a happy little squlsh noise. The vibration of the sound travelled up his arm and he was suddenly very self aware of the fact that he was speaking to a slime. The embarrassment settled in.
“…Great,” Derlord added, “I doubt you can even understand me.”
He feared he may have been right when the slime repeated the same happy chirp it had just made.
The Guild’s trading post was quiet, save for the rhythmic thump-thump of Derlord’s armored finger tapping nervously against a wooden crate.
Silverr peered at the green blob before him, his nose wrinkling slightly.
“What. Is this.”
Derlord crossed his arms, his helmet tilting up defensively, “You are the one who persuaded me to summon a monster, it failed, so now you must take responsibility.” His gaze didn’t leave Silverr as he pointed down at the slime, “I want compensation.”
Silverr laughed, leaning back against the counter. Derlord was a few seconds away from reaching over the counter and strangling him, “Ha!-Ha, wow, ha you are really talented, Der—“ He coughed in between laughs, “you must be the first person ever to summon a slime!”
“...Do not judge it by its mass, Silverr,” Derlord insisted, though his voice lacked its usual booming confidence. “This is... highly concentrated potential.”
The guildmaster snorted as he calmed down finally, poking the slime with a finger, which sent it wobbling comically, “And that potential is…?”
Derlord stammered, his brain scrambling for an adjective that would make the blob sound worth more than five copper coins.
“...It is a very...” Derlord paused, trying to find the word. “...It is a very... unique...”
He trailed off, struggling.
“You keep saying ‘It’s a very this’ and ‘It’s a very that.’ Do you even know what it’s skills are?”
“I do.” Derlord huffed, “It is just... a very... difficult asset to categorize!”
Silverr’s eyes lit up with mischief. He looked at the blob, then back at Derlord.
“‘A very’, huh?”
“...Avery?” Derlord repeated with a scowl.
“Yeah. Since you can’t decide what he is, we’ll just call it that.” Silverr smirked. “He’s not a very good summon, he’s not a very scary monster... he’s just Avery.”
Silverr chuckled, pleased with himself. Avery mimicked the motion as best as it could despite being a slime, it sounded like it was drowning, “Look! Avery likes its new name!”
“Do not name it.”
“It suits it though! Sounds vaguely disappointing, just like your investment portfolio.”
Derlord snapped. He shot his hand out towards the slime block and swooped it up in one smooth motion and clutched it tight against his golden chest plate, shielding the blob from Silverr’s view, “Offer rescinded. You clearly can’t see the potential.” He turned sharply on his heel and started walking away.
“Look after him Avery!!” Silverr shouted back with a laugh. He only laughed harder when Derlord raised his middle finger up at him.
Derlord marched away then slipped into the shadow of a nearby alleyway, the noise of the market fading to a dull hum. After making sure he hadn’t been followed, he held his hands out, cupped together. ‘Avery’ vibrated softly against the metal, cold and damp.
Derlord glared at it. The bond hummed in the back of his mind, tethering them together. To end it was simple. The instruction manual for the rune had been clear.
Two words.
‘Go forth.’
He took a breath, the words forming on his tongue.
The cube stopped vibrating as if sensing a shift in its summoner.
The sharp corners of the cube softened, melting slightly into a sad, shapeless puddle that oozed between Derlord’s armored fingers.
Bworp.
A low, trembling warble rose from the slime. It sounded like a wet balloon deflating. The jelly clung desperately to the gold plating, refusing to drip off, holding on with a strange determination.
Derlord’s voice died in his throat.
He narrowed his eyes behind the visor as he watched the slime mold itself perfectly around the rivets of his gauntlet.
...Malleability? The thought crashed into him like a wave.
He tilted his hand. The slime flowed instantly, defying gravity for a split second to stick to the metal before settling into the new shape.
It has no rigid form.
Derlord paused. The gears in his head began to grind, shifting violently from ‘resignation’ to ‘application’.
It could easily slide through a keyhole. Reform on the other side, then maybe expand to trigger the latch of a mechanism from within.
…Infiltration? He noted.
Then he poked the puddle of slime. It absorbed the impact and bounced back, chirping happily.
…
Impact resistance.
It could cushion a fall…Or be deployed as a silent, non-lethal projectile to gum up the gears of a trap—maybe even catch attacks?
The embarrassment faded, replaced by the stubborn, smug satisfaction of finding a use for something that everyone else would have deemed garbage.
“Never judge a book by its cover.” He huffed mostly to himself. Avery slipped around, reforming in his hand then trailed up Derlord’s arm before perching itself on his shoulder.
Derlord didn’t push the slime away, instead, quiet excitement pooled in his stomach as he thought about other ways he could utilise a slime’s abilities.
His curiosity always got the better of him…and old habits really did die hard.