A few circular ripples spread across the slime's surface, which was my cue to leap backward. A moment later, a trio of tendrils burst from it, one from the centre of each ripple, grasping at my previous position. With a neat sidestep and pirouette, I brought my dagger down on one of them, the slime's 'body' offering almost no resistance to my blade. The severed tendril instantly lost its shape, reverting to a simple liquid the moment it was cut off from the slime's core. It splashed to the ground, soaking in instantly, costing the slime more mass.

  I darted in and sliced at its main bulk. Of course, my dagger went straight through without leaving a wound, but I did splatter a little more of its mass.

  The slime responded by jiggling, an array of small bulges rising up on its surface. Again, prewarned of its attack patterns, I leapt to the side. Moments later, it shot a dozen small bullets of slime through my previous position, deliberately whittling away at its own mass.

  I took the opportunity to slice at it a couple more times, although the amount of damage I was doing by slicing at its bulk was rather insignificant compared to the amount of mass its own attacks were costing.

  I imagined that brute-forcing this fight would be tough. With my Strength and a multiple-metre long pike, maybe I could stab at the core, but the slime's liquid shell did offer some resistance, and the core wasn't stationary, drifting through the slime's interior. There was a chance a pike stab would be slowed sufficiently for the slime's core to dodge. Likewise, tanking the slime's attacks seemed like a silly proposition. It didn't need to pierce my armour and Constitution to win; if it got a grip with those tendrils and dragged me in, I'd drown. More Constitution simply meant that drowning would take longer.

  Within reason, of course. With sufficient Strength and Constitution, I imagined it would be possible to simply let the slime eat me, go swimming in its interior, tearing free of whatever restraints it tried to create to contain me, and crush the core with my bare hands. That was, unsurprisingly, not a strategy the guild's notes on this dungeon deemed worthy of mention.

  The fight had been ongoing for ten minutes, and already the slime was reduced to almost my height. My Stamina was doing fine. I could get more blows in if I taxed it further, making use of every last opportunity to swipe or stab, but I deemed it counterproductive. Cutting off the tendrils was doing the most damage, so making more attacks of my own would increase my Stamina drain without speeding up the fight by much. I just needed to keep attacking enough to goad it into producing more tendrils.

  The slime squatted, turning itself from a sphere to a dome. Another indication that I was making good progress; the notes told me that it didn't start using this attack until it became desperate. Still, even though it was my first time seeing it, I knew what to do, taking some distance, then firmly planting my feet as I prepared to dive.

  The slime leapt, easily reaching ten metres into the air. As planned, I leapt to the side, and the slime splattered harmlessly into the ground. Globs of liquid impacted my ankles, but they were no longer connected to the core, and posed no threat.

  The core was exposed, lying in the centre of a puddle. I ignored it; the puddle was still connected. I'd need to tread in it to reach the core, and that would be a fatal mistake. That was the heart of this attack. The needlessly high leap was just a feint, and I could have dodged it even without prewarning. But, if I'd assumed the slime was incapacitated, like the smaller mobs dropping from the ceiling, and rushed to take advantage and smash the core, it could have cost my life.

  Instead, I waited patiently. A few seconds later, the entire puddle rose up, wrapping the core back in its protective shell. A shell that was rather smaller than it had been prior to the attack.

  It was fortunate that the slime couldn't leap sideways with the same force it had leapt upward, else I'd have a far harder time dodging. Given its 'body', it likely needed something to push off, but the arena was surrounded by walls. Maybe it needed the aid of gravity to squish it against the ground and give it something to push against? Whatever the reason, it meant that none of the slime's attacks were real threats. It launched another wave of liquid bullets, which I easily dodged, and then seemed to decide it had insufficient mass remaining to throw any more away, instead using nothing but tendril attacks.

  Of course, that simply let me whittle away at it even quicker.

  Five minutes more, and the liquid shell became too thin for the slime to move effectively. The core was simply too big, and the liquid was unable to support its weight. A single stab finished it.

  Not a huge amount of experience, given that it had taken more than four times as long to kill as a horned rabbit, black slime or goblin, which all gave a quarter of the amount. It was the same amount as a level thirty human, though, and a human was far more dangerous. Aside from being intelligent, you had no idea what Skills someone might have. Maybe my earlier guess was correct, and the System was trying to discourage murder by ensuring clearing a dungeon always gave a better experience versus time ratio than clearing out a defenceless farming village?

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  The remains of the slime—even the bits of it that I'd scythed off right at the start of the fight and that had long since soaked into the ground—burst into motes of light. Alas, I knew better than to expect a treasure chest. It was simply a shortcut out of the dungeon.

  As the lights zipped down into the floor like a miniaturised meteor shower, forming up into a glowing circle, I checked the new Mark.

  Not a huge effect, but it was the easiest of dungeons, and an experience boost was still an experience boost, however you looked at it.

  The teleportation circle finished forming—a disk of white, glowing symbols, which [Mana Sensitivity] let me feel an intense magical bleeding from—so I stepped into it, and suddenly I was back in the basement, outside of the archway.

  "What the?!" exclaimed the guard, startled by my sudden appearance. The clang of metal against stone suggested he'd flinched backward, straight into the wall.

  "Uh... Does that not normally happen when people clear the dungeon?" I asked.

  "Well, yes," he admitted sheepishly. "But you were in there alone, and only signed up a few days ago, so I wasn't expecting you to clear it. I thought you were training on the top floor."

  "Then I'm sorry I alarmed you, I guess. But it's not exactly a hard dungeon to clear."

  "I think your idea of 'hard' is a little messed up, laddie. Facing the boss alone, without a party to distract it, you'd need fifty Dexterity and Processing, not to mention a big load of Stamina. How'd you manage it? You look like you're still sixteen!"

  "I'm older than I look?" I tried, but a brief burst of confusion turned it from a statement into something that sounded like more of a question. Fifty in two Stats wasn't high, was it? That would require level... uh... fifteen? An adventurer training in a dungeon could reach that pretty darn quickly, surely?

  Of course, such an adventurer would be unlikely to pour all their free points into Dexterity and Processing, and as the guard had spotted, I'd only spent a few afternoons in the dungeon...

  ... Maybe my Mark was warping my idea of what was 'normal'.

  "I've been fighting monsters since before I signed up at the guild," I said, by way of further explanation. "I even took down a goblin village, albeit a small one, and I almost got brained in the process."

  "... Please be careful, kid," sighed the guard.

  "I will. Anyway, why was I the only one in there? A source of experience like that, right on guild grounds? I'd expect it to be full, but I haven't bumped into a single person in all the time I've been in there."

  The guard looked at me like I was an idiot. "A source of experience, yes, but you can't eat experience," he pointed out. "No-one spends substantial amounts of time in there. By the time an adventurer is earning enough to have that sort of leeway, there are better dungeons for them to visit."

  A valid reason. I'd spent a few afternoons and this single morning in there, and now it was unlikely I'd ever set foot in it again.

  Instead, I returned upstairs. I hadn't been lying when I'd promised to be careful. Having reached the first growth milestone, completing a few D-rank jobs would earn me a promotion, but I felt that taking a D-rank job as my first mission would be rather foolhardy. Although, reading the job board, I did at least decide to ignore Oliver's advice and skip F-rank. I had no desire to waste time cleaning an old lady's house, or to repaint a fence, or cover for a sick waiter in an inn. What was the point of adventuring if you didn't get out of the city?

  ... Although this was a big city, and had its own internal dungeons, so maybe it was possible to be an adventurer and never leave.

  Not that the available E-rank jobs were much better, being more along the lines of herb collection than monster slaying. Perhaps better ones had been available earlier in the morning, but if so, they'd all gone. There were some menial tasks that looked like they'd require some amount of Stats, raising them from the F-rank band, but beyond that it was mostly standing requests. Herbs that weren't required as a one off, but that the guild needed a constant supply of. That suited me perfectly; money was money, and thanks to the library, I'd memorised the local flora. I noted down a few that I knew grew in the same environment, that I felt I could reach in time to get back to the city before nightfall.

  "I wait ages for you to take a mission, and then you take three at once?" asked Oliver as I registered the jobs I was accepting—collecting manaweed, autumn dew and striped woodcap. "But I thought you planned to train in the dungeon today?"

  "I cleared it," I answered.

  Oliver's eyes narrowed. "You what? On your own? But you haven't even reached the first growth milestone... Wait, you sounded pretty sure about reaching D-rank within a week. You have, haven't you?"

  "It's rude to ask someone's level," I pointed out with a wink.

  "... Older than you look, huh?" he said, recalling my excuse from earlier in the morning. "You might want to be careful. Even if you have the backing of the Order of the Thorned Rose, the bulk of their forces aren't here in the capital at the moment. Standing out too much could attract attention you appear not to want."

  "Like that group of Johns?"

  "Who's John? You mean the group that accosted you a few days ago? Yes, people like them. If they decided they wanted you at all costs, well, where do you think that fancy equipment of theirs comes from? They're the vindictive sort—heck, 'avengers' is right there in their party name—and money opens up doors to people like them that you won't be able to close with Stats or Levels. I'd advise you not to flaunt the fact that you fobbed them off in their faces. It's unlikely you'd enjoy the consequences."

  "Herb gathering should be fine, though."

  "Yeah, sure. Go right ahead. Just don't come back with cowthistle."

  "I won't."

  After all, it was time to earn my first legitimate income as an adventurer. I'd prepared. I'd researched. I'd levelled. I'd obtained armour and weapons. No way was I going to screw it up.