Primordial Slime: I Devour The World

The northern forest was strangely silent. Fifty-two Varkesh warriors surrounded the ritual formation from the outside as the human mages worked their magic in the center. Commander Tharven observed the scene from the distance. The man had spent the majority of his life in Varkesh. He had fought wars against humans before he had enough experience to lead his platoon.

He had witnessed villages burning and cities filled with chained monsters trying to escape, he had buried his comrade-in-arms, who had died during the border raids. He knew what Varkesh wanted from humans. And he learned something valuable that the hatred couldn’t teach him. Discipline is the key to survival. That was why Rhazek selected him to lead this operation.

"Commander." Tharven turned to the mage who interrupted his thoughts. "The trace has vanished." The commander approached the ritual formation. "Why?" "We reached something beneath the ground." "How sure are we of that?" The mage pointed at the shadowy traces spreading along the sand.

"The mana is concentrated there." The commander studied the formation for a moment. The ritual progressed for hours. Every step brought the mages and warriors closer to the corrupted core that Rhazek wanted. "Did you manage to locate it?" "We think we found it." "Think?" The mage gulped. "We need to excavate." Tharven looked at his warriors. "Dig." The soldiers quickly obeyed the order. The mage returned to the ritual formation. Tharven watched the man for a moment.

One of the younger soldiers approached him. "Commander, why do we risk keeping them alive?" The commander glanced at the young warrior. "I don’t trust them." The young man looked puzzled. "But why?" "Because we can use them." The warrior spat on the ground. "They’re humans." "I know." "My father says we can’t trust them."

"Your father is right." The young warrior’s face broke into a smile. Tharven frowned. "Doesn’t mean you should be careless around them." The smile faded. Tharven turned away. "Carelessness leads to death." It was one of the first lessons he learned as a young warrior. He hated humans, but he would never let his hate blind him.

A scout came up to the commander. "Commander." Tharven turned towards the scout. "The eastern caravan was ambushed." Tharven’s eyes narrowed. "Whose caravan?" "Rosen merchants." The young warrior beside Tharven let out a feral grin. "Humans." Tharven looked at the smiling youth. The grin vanished from the young man’s face. "How many people died?" "We don’t know." "Find out."

The scout saluted and returned to his men. The young warrior frowned. "You don’t seem happy." Tharven stared into the forest. "Why should I be?" "They’re humans." "They weren’t our target." The warrior kept silent. Tharven kept staring into the woods. The ambush troubled him not because he cared about the merchants, but because something was wrong.

This wasn’t an appropriate moment for an attack to occur. The commander turned to the ritual formation. The mages worked feverishly to bring the ritual to its climax. Tharven felt something in his gut telling him that the outcome of this operation would change in an instant. "Continue the ritual." One of the mages looked up. "The corruption is out of control." "Can you control it?" "We can manage the spell." "That’s not what I asked." The mage hesitated. "No." The commander’s gaze locked on the mage’s eyes. For the first time today, doubt appeared in Tharven’s eyes. "Then be careful." The mage blinked. Tharven turned away.

The excavators continued their work. Eventually, one of the soldiers struck something solid with his pickaxe. The soldiers began to clear away the sand and rock. A stone door framed with ancient symbols emerged before the warriors. Tharven stepped closer. The mage studied the markings on the door. "This is ancient." "How old is it?" "I don’t know." Tharven placed a hand on the stone door. The door shuddered. He quickly withdrew his hand. A deep rumbling sound echoed in the surrounding area. Several warriors stumbled in confusion.

The human mages screamed in pain. The ritual formation began to lose control. "Hold it!" Tharven’s voice rang out across the battlefield. His men steadied themselves. The mages fought to regain control of the magical formation. Tharven stared at the door. There was something behind it. Something powerful. The commander had always believed that the solution to every problem was force. If the enemy was stronger, then one had to be even stronger.

If the enemy was more numerous, one had to be disciplined. If the enemy was dangerous, one had to destroy it. But now, for the first time in his life, he felt uneasy standing before this door. "Open it." The warriors broke the seal on the door. The entrance to the chamber slowly opened. A thin beam of black light spilled out onto the sand. The soldiers raised their weapons.

Tharven was the first to enter the chamber. The room was enormous. Ancient pillars stood around the chamber. Black crystals jutted out from the sand. At the center of the room stood a stone platform. And on the platform was a giant crystal. Dark green in the center with veins of black energy running through it. One of the mages fainted. "The core!" Tharven stared at the crystal. They had done it. After months of searching, after the corruption plagued the northern woods, and after the mages had sacrificed their power for this ritual, they finally found what they were looking for. The commander took a step closer. "You’re sure?" "Yes."

The mage’s voice trembled. "The corrupted mana is coming from it." Tharven studied the crystal. He expected to feel triumphant, but the sight of the core filled him with apprehension. The commander looked around the chamber. "Something’s not right." The mage looked at him. "What do you mean?"

Tharven didn’t respond. He had spent enough time on the battlefield to know when something was about to happen. "Nobody touches it." A warrior looked surprised. "But the king ordered us to bring it to him." "I know." Tharven stepped closer. "We bring it to him only when we know what we’re dealing with." The warrior saluted. The commander approached the core. The mages’ chanting grew louder.

Black light filled the chamber. Tharven’s muscles tensed. Sweat formed on his brow. The stone beneath his feet vibrated. The young warrior raised his weapon. "Commander..." Tharven raised a hand. "Nobody moves!" The crystal split open. A jagged line of black light ran across the crack. Another one appeared. Tharven gripped the handle of his axe. For the first time in his life, his instincts told him something he didn’t want to know. They didn’t find the source of the corruption.

They found something that was buried under it. A dull thudding sound came from below the platform. Thump. Every warrior froze. Thump. The chamber trembled. Tharven looked at the crack in the core. His grip on his axe tightened. "Fall back!" Nobody moved. The third thump sounded in the chamber like a war drum. THUMP. The core split open. And something that looked like eyes, opened in the crack.