On the grayish-white, mineral-stained rock wall, patches of dark green moss clung stubbornly to the moist surface. A viscous, pitch-black liquid dripped rhythmically from the ceiling, pooling into stagnant puddles below. At the foot of the corroded wall, worn stone steps were cracked and eroded by years of acidic moisture. From those crevices sprouted thumb-sized purple mushrooms—glowing faintly with a toxic sheen.
Pitter-patter! Pitter-patter!
A strange squelching sound echoed through the dim, narrow corridor. Moments later, a deep blue slime—its body gelatinous and pulsing faintly with internal light—bounced steadily forward through the gloom.
"Not bad, there are some here too."
Takuma came to a stop before the mushrooms, his form rippling slightly as he extended part of his body to envelop them. The fungal caps dissolved within seconds inside his semi-transparent body. Almost immediately, a faint violet hue shimmered within him, and he felt his magicule count—what this world called magic essence—strengthen ever so slightly.
These poisonous mushrooms were a valuable discovery Takuma had stumbled upon a few days earlier. After devouring the first batch, he noticed not only a considerable nutritional boost and a minor increase in magic essence, but also the emergence of his very first offensive ability: Poison Secretion.
Unlike the weaker slimes around him, Takuma's body had begun to change rapidly under the influence of his unique skill, Gluttony. He quickly learned to identify which items would yield the highest return on his digestion—whether in magicule gain, physical resilience, or combat ability. Poisonous mushrooms, in particular, were a jackpot.
"Speaking of which, I should be the strongest slime in this area now."
After absorbing the last of the mushrooms, he turned back and surveyed the sewer behind him. Clusters of slimes bounced listlessly through the filth, unaware of the disparity that now separated them from him. Thanks to Gluttony and his toxin resistance, Takuma had grown at a rate far beyond any of his peers. His once minuscule trace of magic essence had now become a steady, pulsing flow.
He had also tested his new offensive ability recently. A single drop of his secreted venom—barely the size of a raindrop—had bored a fist-sized hole straight into the stone floor. The nearby slimes that had caught a whiff of the residual gas had collapsed on the spot. One of them dissolved entirely, its core corroded before it could regenerate.
Takuma had been stunned. The lethality of his poison far exceeded what a newborn slime should possess. Its sheer corrosiveness combined with airborne toxicity would likely kill a normal human instantly.
To avoid wiping out the entire local slime population, Takuma had quickly devoured the contaminated ground, neutralizing the residue. He even took the time to respectfully absorb the cores of the dead slimes—an act of solemnity rather than hunger.
"It's time to leave. Staying here can no longer satisfy my growth needs."
He turned his gaze to a mound of debris and broken machinery in the distance. Atop it was a jagged man-sized opening—a runoff chute to the upper levels of the sewer system. Takuma had discovered it two days ago but had delayed approaching it to finish his search for more poisonous mushrooms.
Now, the sewer was barren. The mushrooms were gone. The rocks, rusted swords, animal bones, and magical residue from decomposed monsters—all devoured. All that remained was useless garbage, inert stone, and his idle kin.
In less than half a month since his birth, Takuma had transformed the sewer into a hollowed husk. If he remained, his only options were to eat dirt—or worse, consume the other slimes.
He had considered it. His skill Gluttony would likely allow him to inherit any racial traits or special abilities they had. But… they were his kind. They were the first living beings he had seen after reincarnating. In a world filled with danger, they were the only ones he could call kin.
"If I encounter slimes from other regions, I won't hesitate… but not these ones. Not here."
He launched himself toward the pile of junk. His elastic, magicule-imbued body leapt gracefully up the slope in three quick bounds. At the top, he paused and looked down at the sewer below.
"I'll come back one day… if only to remember where I started."
A strange sensation flickered within him. In his previous life, he had been human. But now, he was a slime—just like them. These fellow slimes, mindless and pure, were the closest things he had to relatives in this world. And yet, even among them, he felt a distance.
"The current me… is a demon."
Looking at his translucent, azure body, Takuma felt his identity blur. He was no longer a man. He wasn't even human. His voice would never speak again. His hands were gone. And if humans saw him now, they would kill him on sight.
Who's to say the humans of this world were even like the ones from Earth?
"I'm just a slime who wants to survive!"
With that final thought, he pushed forward through the exit. Behind him, the sewer faded into the darkness—a haven for the weak that even goblins, with their low standards, found too filthy to inhabit.
Yet for slimes, it had been paradise.
The outside world was no kinder.
The gray stone walls were still cracked and moldy, and the sewer floor was wet and slick beneath him. Slime slowly oozed forward, his body pressing past piles of floating garbage and rotting food. The air stank of methane and death. But for the first time since being born, he was moving into the unknown.
From the decay and refuse, Takuma pieced together a theory. The place where he was born must have been a downstream waste-collection area—where magicules and toxic waste accumulated. It was a cesspool… but also fertile ground for slime evolution.
Few creatures could survive there. Even goblins avoided such regions due to the lack of edible food. But slimes? They thrived on garbage, decay, and concentrated magicule environments.
Suddenly, a rustling noise echoed ahead.
Takuma froze. His fluid body tensed instinctively as vibrations in the air hinted at movement. It wasn't just one creature. It sounded like a group—and they were heading toward him.
"What's coming? I just left the lower sewer…"
With caution, he flowed silently toward the wall and squeezed into a crack between two moss-covered stones. His body flattened to match the contours, and he peered ahead, senses on high alert.
Squeak, squeak, squeak!
A group of giant rats appeared, each the size of a house cat. Their fur was patchy, and their eyes shone with wild, panicked energy. Whether it was the influence of ambient magicules or the fertile, polluted environment, these sewer rats had mutated—fatter and more aggressive than any normal rodent.
But these ones weren't looking for food. They were running in panic. One rat had a bleeding wound across its flank, and several others glanced nervously behind as they ran.
Something was chasing them.
And for the first time since leaving his birthplace, Takuma felt the stirrings of danger in this new world.