I froze as the Voice of the Creator finished speaking. For the first time in my memory, she didn’t make any sense. She’d reported missing details before. She’d even obfuscated things I didn’t need to know. But…

  She’d never reported anything untrue before.

  Cause a cataclysmic disaster. It was unthinkable. Why would I do something so terrible? How would I do something so terrible? I was just a little slime! How could I possibly be responsible for anything that could be described as cataclysmic.

  Yet there it was. I asked her to repeat it, hoping desperately that I’d misheard. Yet, once again, the answer was still the same.

  [Evolution Path: Apocalypse Slime, Tier 3

  Requirement Cause a Cataclysmic Disaster: completed]

  Dorin ducked through the hole and rushed into the open alongside several guardsmen, but I barely registered it. The faces behind me looked on in desperation. They were soot stained and sweaty. Several sported bruises or cuts sustained during their frantic attempts to escape their homes while their loved ones were killed, only to rise again to join the hunt themselves.

  How could I have caused this?

  Creator, what’s an apocalypse slime?

  I had to know. I had to understand what had happened. There was no other way. This time, the Creator did not disappoint.

  [The apocalypse tag is a unique designation for creatures who feed on and create apocalypse energy. Though different from mana, apocalypse energy is used similarly by apocalypse class monsters.]

  On its own, the apocalypse tag didn’t sound like the end of the world. It would just shift a creature from using mana to something else, but that meant it was a lot like the difference between human mana and monster mana. Dorin had made that transformation. Was this any different?

  [Though very little is known about apocalypse class monsters, a few traits are common between them. Apocalypse evolutions are difficult to achieve and often involve the deaths of many individuals—the exact number varies by path, species, and tier. Apocalypse monsters seek only the destruction of civilization and the unraveling of social structures, and do so in a destructive manner. Apocalypse monsters who fail to achieve this level of destruction are often driven mad by their own magic and seek out destruction as a function of their madness.]

  Never mind. This was very different. Dorin might have become draken, but that change wouldn’t drive him to insanity. It wouldn’t force him to kill the ones he loved.

  I squished myself smaller, guilt creeping into my core. Though I wanted her to stop, the Creator had more to say. I had no choice but to listen.

  [Once an apocalypse evolution is unlocked, it will always be available, regardless of tier, tags, or path. Gaining the apocalypse tag is irreversible and will lock out all non-apocalypse evolution options.

  Apocalypse evolutions are unique to monstrous species. Demons may incur a temporary condition known as apocalyptic corruption after exposure to apocalypse monsters. No apocalypse class human has ever been recorded.]

  So, if I became an apocalypse monster, I would never be anything else. There was no going back from that kind of corruption. I would advance down a destructive path until I ate everything in my path, or more likely, was killed for my actions.

  How had it come to this? How could I be responsible?

  Creator, does the Apocalypse Slime evolution say what cataclysmic event fulfilled the requirement? I asked privately.

  [Requirement: Cause a cataclysmic disaster was attributed at the time of advancement from Tier 1 to Tier 2.]

  I curled my slime tighter around myself, seeping slightly into the stones. I just wanted to get away from everything rather than face the reality that burned around me.

  One other trait was given to me at the time of my Tier 2 advancement. That was when Consumer of the Fourth Anchor was created. Even if I didn’t remember it, the actions of a tiny Orator Slime had caused this.

  “Darkness rises, little spark. Are you prepared?” The Creator’s voice, the one from my dream, rang through my mind.

  She knew. How could she not? The moment Consumer of the Fourth Anchor applied and the cataclysm requirement was fulfilled, she knew.

  Did that mean that the Creator planned this from the start?

  Emotions flitted through my core faster than I could register them. Fear that I’d caused this, anger that the Creator let me do it, sorrow and guilt for the lives lost by my indirect influence.

  “Greenbean?” Tanev’s voice shook me back to reality, where the cataclysm I created still raged. “Are you okay?”

  “F-fine,” I lied. “I’m just…guarding the exit. In case any wraiths come out of the ground?”

  She frowned. “But almost everyone is through. Only us and the guard are left.”

  I turned my attention back to the battle beyond the walls, only to find that it was mostly over. Dorin had created a corridor of flames leading to the forest’s edge. The shamblers who attempted to cross the fires were swiftly dealt with by the guards, even with their limited skills.

  “Go without me,” I said. They’d be better off without the source of the destruction going with them.

  “Suri will protect me,” Tanev told the three remaining guards. “Dad could use help.”

  They eyed the girl. Several went through the small hole, leaving only Mattis behind with us. He turned resolutely to watch the street, making it clear that he wasn’t leaving the little girl alone with only a slime for protection.

  Tanev knelt, picking me up and holding me at her eye level. “What happened? You seem sad.”

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  I didn’t know how she knew. My body language was so different than a human’s, but she stared directly into my core, and I could tell that she understood. I half-heartedly tried to wiggle free of her grasp, but she pulled me into a tight hug, resting her head on my upper membrane as she listened to the pulse of my mana. In that moment, I cracked. I couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Tanev, I caused this,” I murmured only loud enough for her to hear. “All this death is my fault.”

  She shook her head and smiled. “I don’t believe that. You rescued us.”

  “But-”

  “If you did it, why would you rescue us?”

  My answer was immediate: “Because I’m a guardian slime.”

  I’d repeated that phrase over and over since being born. I stayed with Dorin in the dungeon because I was a guardian. I turned him into a monster because a guardian wouldn’t settle for his death. I forgave the harpies because they needed a guardian. Even now, Dorin and I came to Felsporo because his children didn’t have one.

  “See? You can’t be responsible. A guardian wouldn’t cause this.”

  It was a na?ve way of looking at things, but something about it inspired hope in me. I couldn’t be sure that she was right, but at least, there was a chance I could still fulfill the purpose I chose, not the one that may or may not have been foisted upon me.

  These people still needed a guardian. Tanev still needed me.

  Escaping the little girl’s grip, I flowed up her arm and onto her shoulder. It wasn’t as spacious as Dorin’s, and I had to pile some of my slime onto her head and behind her pigtails in order to fit, but I managed all the same.

  “Let’s go. We’ll take the rear of the column,” I said. Mattis nodded and the three of us crawled through the wall and raced down the column of fire…or at least, the humans did. I gave moral support for the running part.

  Only adrenaline and the promise of a warm campfire kept the group of humans going into the small hours of the morning. A gentle breeze brushed against my slime, shifting Tanev’s hair. By morning, ash would likely fall to the earth.

  Every so often, one of the children would point through a break in the trees and shout about the color of the moon. They cried about how its normally silver glow had turned crimson. In an effort to calm the child, one of the adults would pat their cheek and tell them that it was just the smoke coloring the sky. However, the sharpness of their words masked a quivering that undermined their confidence. Whispers among the adults spoke of it as an ill omen. The blood moon, as they called it, only appeared when great tragedy was on the horizon.

  Others, such as Mrs. Malsory, argued that a great tragedy had already struck. They were homeless, defenseless, and waiting the claws of the first monster that happened across them. What more could the blood moon do to them? They received glares, especially from the parents of younger children, who were desperately trying to assure their young that everything would be alright. Their efforts met with varied success, as many of the children were still producing nasty salt-water from their eyes.

  Meanwhile, Tanev and I remained in the back of the group. She kept cool and collected, even if her hands did tremble slightly around me. We walked in calming silence while the others continued to panic.

  We’d only just passed the first set of warning effigies denoting harpy territory when a trio of figures approached from behind. Immediately, Mattis drew his sword, but I remained relaxed. Their magic was not the dingy gray of shamblers.

  The only one in the group whose magic I could really understand was the smallest one. No introduction was required for the electric blue mana that lay dormant in the child’s core.

  “Tanev?”

  Tanev’s eyes went wide in recognition. “Jaden? You made it out!”

  “Yeah! Mr. Feydian and Mr. Tei’lian saved me from the monsters at my uncle’s farm!” Jaden explained. “And you found the slime again! Did your dad come back, too?”

  “Mmmhmmm! He’s at the front of the group with Samri and Aunt Samara.” She held me high for the newcomers to see. “But Suri needs to be in the back to eat the shamblers that sneak up on us.”

  “That’s quite the well-behaved slime if it eats the death walkers for you,” said the man called Tei’lian. His magic tasted like dark steel, but there was something familiar about the traces of crimson that clung to him.

  “Thank you, sir. I try,” I answered, enjoying the shock that widened his eyes and flattened his feline ears along his head.

  He cleared his throat. “I didn’t realize you could speak.”

  “It’s a common mistake.”

  Jaden fell into step next to Tanev, and the two men followed along behind. From my place on the girl’s head, I watched them both.

  Blood red mana wove around and through Tei’lian’s own, but it was more concentrated around a bone necklace hanging at his chest. It took only a moment tasting it to recognize it as K’esil’s magic. Knowing that he was a friend of the harpies, I relaxed.

  The man next to him was far more timid. When Tei’lian spoke to him, his answers were too soft to hear, and the taste of his mana didn’t illuminate things any further. He was an enigma, with magic that appeared to be midnight blue and brilliant white at the same time. Every so often, other colors would shimmer over the surface, like oil shifting over water, but nothing ever surfaced that helped me further identify what kinds of magic he used, if any. In the end, I decided to trust in Tei’lian’s assessment. After all, a friend of the harpies was a friend of mine.

  A screech that could only belong to a harpy shook the trees. Tei’lian’s ears pricked forward and he sighed.

  “Oh dear, I believe the colony may have been startled by the group,” he mused.

  “We should go help,” I said. “Dorin and E’rina don’t really get along.”

  “Luckily, E’rina doesn’t make the decisions for the nest.”

  The two strange men, along with Jaden, Tanev, and I all rushed to the front of the column. Humans cowered as dozens of harpies glared from the treetops.

  “You cannot be serious!” E’rina cried. “First, it was just the draken. Then it was the slime. Now, you’re considering offering homes to half the human town!?”

  K’esil shouted back. “They are without homes! Our creed is to give homes to the homeless and love to the unloved! Turning them away would disgrace the Great Mother!”

  From between the two squabbling harpies, L’aera raised a wing claw to her temple and rubbed her head. She looked tired, and I spotted a bleeding gash on her other shoulder that oozed with decaying mana. Without delay, I hopped from Tanev’s arms and approached the wing mother. Politics were not my problem. Treating injuries most definitely was.

  “You’re hurt,” I said. “It needs to be treated before we lose you to the death walkers.”

  L’aera nodded and crouched. I raised a pseudopod and touched the wound. The decay writhed and roiled, making the wing mother grimace in pain.

  “I am not the only harpy injured,” she said through gritted teeth. “They should be seen first.”

  I wobbled my disagreement. “No, L’aera. I need to take care of this now. Bring the rest of the injured down here. I’ll treat them all.”

  “Vi’yera, don’t,” she insisted. “You don’t have the mana for that. I will be fine.”

  I stubbornly glared at her…not that she could tell. “I won’t ask again, wing mother.” Though my words were gentle, they left no room for argument.

  For a moment, I worried that she would resist further, but in the end, she bowed her head. “K’esil, bring the injured here. Suri wishes to treat them.”

  “Right away, Wing Mother!”

  “How are you going to manage this, Vi’yera?”

  I wobbled in a happy motion before my mana pulsed out to every corner of my slime. This was a great opportunity to test a new ability while I could actually study it. My mana swapped to Healer’s Bearing just as I felt it burst from my core.

  [Ability Activated: Arcane Ascendent

  Augmenting Soothing Touch]

  Mana shimmered around me, altering the world within my senses. My slime shifted gently, forming a new shape, while pinpricks of gold and green filled my vision until I could barely see. However, just as I worried that I’d accidentally augmented Wild Magic Wave instead of Soothing Touch, my sight cleared.

  It was dark, but the alabaster cliff face of High Ridge was bathed in crimson light from the moon above. Behind me, I vaguely heard several gasps of shock, but that was probably just E’rina doing something stupid. Dorin would handle it. My job was to heal L’aera.

  I reached out, taking her arm and shoulder gently. However, someone beat me to the draw as a set of pale, delicate hands took L’aera’s arm in hers.

  “Um, excuse me, but I’m busy. Can you move?”

  L’aera stared at me. “Suri? Is that…you?”

  I looked at her, confused and a little annoyed that I was being distracted from my task yet again, only to find pure awe captured in L’aera’s azure eyes. They were the same color as her magic and I…

  Color…since when could I see the color of L’aera’s eyes? Normally, I could only see the shape of her eyes outlined in her mana along with the rest of her face, but now, her azure eyes were wide against tanned skin and tawny feathers.

  But, the only way for that to be possible is-—

  —if I had eyes with which to see…