GoldenSlimeKnight

Derek had been deep in a rare, uninterrupted sleep—the kind that only came after long hours of strain—when something pulled him out of it. Not a sound, not a dream, but a feeling. A wrongness.

The space beside him was empty.

Avery was gone.

His eyes snapped open, panic flooding in before his mind could even catch up. He shot upright, breath hitching as his gaze darted across the room, searching, hoping—no. Nothing. No sign of him. The silence felt heavier because of it.

“Avery…?”

No answer.

Derek didn’t wait. His hands moved before his thoughts could form, grabbing for his armor with frantic urgency. Fingers fumbled over straps and buckles, his usual precision lost to panic. His honey-colored dreads clung together, shifting unevenly as he moved, some strands sticking against his face as if dampened by stress alone.

Piece by piece, he forced the armor on.

The chestplate slid into place with a dull, heavy thud. Straps tightened unevenly at first, then corrected with shaking hands. His gauntlets followed, fingers flexing as he shoved them on, barely securing them before moving to the next. Every motion was rushed, imperfect—but enough.

Strap. Buckle. Pull. Adjust.

His breathing came sharp and uneven, echoing faintly in the room as he worked. His mind raced faster than his hands. Where would Avery go? Why would he leave? No—Avery wouldn’t just leave.

Something was wrong.

Once fully dressed, Derek paused only long enough to glance at the bed. The covers were twisted from where he’d bolted upright. For a brief, almost automatic moment, he reached down and straightened them, smoothing the fabric into place.

Even now, even like this—he wasn’t a hooligan.

Then he turned and moved, pace quick and urgent as he reached the door and pushed it open without hesitation.

The hallway beyond stretched farther than he expected.

Long. Quiet. Unfamiliar.

Derek stepped into it, boots striking against the ground with sharp, echoing weight. He hesitated for only a fraction of a second, trying to orient himself—but left and right felt meaningless under pressure. His thoughts stumbled over themselves, direction slipping from his grasp.

“…This way.”

He didn’t know if it was right.

He ran anyway.

—

Avery stood before something that made his chest tighten.

The gates loomed high above him—massive structures of gold, their surfaces gleaming with an unnatural yellow sheen. A clean white outline traced their edges, making them seem almost… unreal. Too perfect. Too still.

Too silent.

He approached slowly, each step cautious, uncertain. The air felt different here—heavier, thicker, pressing in around him. His hand lifted hesitantly, fingers brushing against the surface of one gate.

It was cold.

He swallowed, then pushed.

The gate opened with a low, echoing sound that seemed to carry far beyond the space it occupied. The moment it parted enough, Avery slipped inside.

And froze.

A figure stood before him.

Tall—far taller than any normal person. Draped in a flowing golden robe that pooled slightly at its feet, unmoving despite the open space. Where its face should have been was nothing but a darkened square, an empty void that absorbed light rather than reflected it.

Its hands hung at its sides, long and unnaturally thin, fingers tapering into sharp, pointed ends that didn’t quite look natural.

Above its head floated a jagged yellow halo—uneven, broken in places, yet somehow perfectly suspended. It cast a faint glow that only made the rest of the figure seem more wrong.

It didn’t move.

But Avery knew—knew—it was looking at him.

Even without eyes, the weight of its gaze pressed directly into him, unrelenting.

—

Derek ran harder.

His breath burned in his chest as he pushed forward, armor clinking loudly with every step. The sound echoed through the halls, uneven and desperate. He nearly slipped at one turn, catching himself just in time before continuing without pause.

The broken edge of the mine’s barrier came into view.

Relief didn’t come with it—only more urgency.

He rushed forward, forcing himself through the opening without slowing, barely noticing the way the jagged edges scraped against his armor. He staggered slightly as he passed through, then steadied himself.

He knew.

He didn’t know how—but he knew exactly where Avery was.

“This is bad… this is really bad…”

His voice came out low, breathless, barely audible over the sound of his own movement.

—

Avery swallowed hard, his throat tight as he stood under the figure’s silent attention.

His eyes flicked to the side, pulling up his inventory in a nervous reflex. The familiar interface did little to comfort him. His weapon—barely intact. The blade chipped, worn, unreliable.

If it came to a fight… he wouldn’t win.

Not even close.

“I’m not that dumb…” he muttered under his breath, voice unsteady.

His hand trembled as he reached into his inventory, scrolling past what little he had. Each item felt useless. Inadequate.

Then—

He stopped.

A small blue flower.

It wasn’t much. Simple. Fragile.

But it was something.

Slowly, carefully, Avery pulled it out, holding it gently between his fingers. His chest tightened, nerves coiling tighter with every second that passed under the figure’s gaze.

His arm lifted.

Higher.

Higher.

He stretched as far as he could, offering the flower up toward the towering figure, his expression wavering into a weak, uncertain smile. A faint flush spread across his cheeks, subtle but present.

“Uh… hi…”

The words came out soft. Awkward.

His body betrayed him completely.

Slime slipped from him in thick, uneven drips, clinging to his form before falling away in slow, heavy drops. It gathered at his edges, pooling slightly beneath him as if he couldn’t quite hold himself together under the pressure.

It almost looked like sweat.

If slime could sweat.

—

Derek’s pace didn’t slow.

If anything, he pushed harder.

Each step felt heavier, louder, his armor dragging against him as exhaustion threatened to creep in—but he ignored it. Forced past it. His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out everything else.

He was close.

He had to be.

“Avery—”

The name left him under his breath, strained and desperate as he surged forward, boots striking harder against the ground.

Not fast enough.

Never fast enough.

But he wasn’t stopping..