SLIME LEGION

Chapter 12: Something fishy

After weaving through countless alleys, Moressa finally came to a stop and looked around. The street was deserted, the only sounds being the distant bustle from the city beyond.

"...Why did I run?"

The words escaped before she even realized she’d spoken them.

A sharp kick slammed into the stone wall beside her.

BOOM!

The entire section caved in as cracks spread through the bricks.

Her expression never changed.

Cold.

Emotionless.

But inside...

Her thoughts were in complete disarray.

Master had never scolded her before.

She could do almost anything she wanted, apologize afterward, and everything would go back to normal. That was simply how things had always been.

Today...

He’d actually been angry.

"...I overdid it."

She clicked her tongue.

Her thoughts drifted to the only person who consistently managed to ruin her mood.

Anthony.

How many times had she tried to kill him now?

She’d lost count.

Poison.

"Accidents."

Monsters.

Even "coincidentally" hacking him with a sword several times.

Yet somehow...

He always survived.

"...Your luck will run out."

Her eyes grew colder.

"And when it does..."

"...It’ll be the last thing you ever lose."

Silence returned.

Then...

"Come out."

Her composure returned so completely it was as though her earlier frustration had never existed.

"I know you’re there."

She slowly turned toward the corner of the alley.

For the past several minutes she’d been sensing a familiar presence.

One she hadn’t felt in years.

At first she’d dismissed it as coincidence.

Wishful thinking.

But no matter where she went...

The presence followed.

Her hand moved.

A longsword slipped soundlessly from the Dimension Ring on her finger.

"...Long time no see, Moressa."

A figure simply...

Appeared.

Not walked around the corner.

Not descended from a rooftop.

Appeared.

Standing several meters away with an easy smile.

For the first time in years...

Moressa’s eyes widened.

"...How?"

The newcomer chuckled.

"...Did I escape?"

Silence.

"..."

"It doesn’t matter."

The smile slowly disappeared.

"All that matters is that I got out."

"And now..."

A killing intent so dense the surrounding air seemed to distort rolled out from the figure.

"...I’m going to make sure you die in the most horrible way imaginable."

Moressa stared for another second before clicking her tongue.

"...Tsk."

"You’re right."

"It doesn’t matter."

Crack...

Blue lightning crawled along her sword.

"YOU."

The ground beneath her feet shattered.

"WILL."

Another step.

The pressure in the alley exploded.

"DIE."

---

"Oh my God! Lungris! We love you!"

"Make us proud, Jerid!"

"I LOVE YOU, AUSTIN!"

The stadium erupted with cheers as the participants walked toward the starting grid. Normally the G1 Tournament attracted plenty of attention on its own, but this year was different. Nearly every driver belonged to the younger generation of noble houses, many of whom had already built massive reputations long before entering the Academy. For some, this race was nothing more than entertainment. For others, it was another chance to increase their fame before the entrance examinations.

"My, my."

A handsome young man with deep green hair laughed as he waved at the crowd.

"I didn’t know I was this famous."

"Stop embarrassing yourself."

The raven-haired young man beside him didn’t even spare him a glance. His eyes remained fixed on the fifteen Raptors lined up ahead, arranged in three rows of five.

"You’re such a killjoy, Desmond. No wonder you don’t have supporters."

Almost immediately...

"We love you, Desmond!"

The green-haired youth blinked.

"...No way."

He looked toward the stands.

"Did you actually pay people to scream your name?"

Desmond ignored him completely.

His gaze shifted farther down the lineup until it settled on another racer.

Austin.

Out of everyone here...

He was one of only three people Desmond considered genuine competition.

Unlike most participants, Austin didn’t come from one of the kingdom’s great noble families. His house was respectable at best.

His talent, however...

Was terrifying.

During multiple Dimension Breaks he’d been witnessed fighting monsters nearly twice his own level and surviving.

Talent like that couldn’t be ignored.

It was exactly why influential families had been scrambling to build connections with him.

"You think the Eleventh Prince will show up?"

A young noble with golden hair tied into a loose bun glanced toward his blue-haired companion.

"Why?"

The blue-haired youth scoffed.

"So he can embarrass himself?"

"You know how much he hates... you know who."

A grin tugged at the golden-haired youth’s lips.

"I’ve got a feeling he’s lurking around somewhere."

"So what if he is?"

The golden-haired youth stared.

"...You’re seriously asking that?"

He leaned closer, lowering his voice.

"If we make a fool out of him publicly, people will notice."

"The Kingscrown family couldn’t care less about him."

"But if someone humiliates him badly enough..."

"...His brother Aegon might."

The blue-haired noble didn’t answer immediately.

Instead...

His eyes wandered toward one of the elevated VIP boxes overlooking the stadium. The enchanted glass concealed whoever was inside from the spectators below.

"...Maybe."

A slow grin spread across his face.

The golden-haired youth sighed.

"That smile..."

"Don’t tell me."

"You still haven’t given up on that crush."

"Shut up."

The grin instantly disappeared.

"I have no idea what you’re talking about."

One by one, the racers climbed into their assigned Raptors.

Unlike ordinary vehicles, Raptors didn’t run on wheels. They floated several inches above the track, suspended by opposing gravitational glyphs carved throughout the entire circuit. The vehicle itself contained matching formations, creating a stable magnetic field that allowed it to hover effortlessly.

People had once suggested adapting the technology for everyday travel.

The idea had been abandoned almost immediately.

Raptors were unbelievably fast.

They were also unbelievably unforgiving.

One mistake.

One wrong turn.

One collision.

And whatever bones survived would wish they hadn’t.

Everyone settled into position.

The engines hummed softly.

Five minutes passed.

Then another.

Then another. freewebnøvel.coɱ

"...What’s taking so long?"

The audience’s excitement slowly gave way to confusion.

"I think they’re waiting for the last two racers."

"Oh."

"Right."

A violet-haired young man frowned as he glanced toward the tunnel leading onto the track.

"What the hell is taking those idiots so long?"

"There."

Someone pointed.

"They’re here."

Every head turned.

Two figures wearing full racing helmets emerged from the tunnel.

"...Wait."

A spectator frowned.

"Isn’t Freedy supposed to be short?"

That wasn’t the only strange thing.

Both racers were well over six feet tall.

For the first time that morning...

Several people started feeling that something wasn’t quite right.