Tap, tap, tap

A small tapping sound echoes throughout the short distance surrounding Ryan as he walks over the dilapidated set of greenish, plant covered doors. After creeping through the grand doorway leading to the courtyard, he quickly moves behind the remnants of a nearby, at one point extravagant, stone wall that has succumbed to the passage of time. He peers out from behind its crumbling edge at the small group of slimes loitering around in the middle of the courtyard ahead. A mutant slime, 3 normal looking slimes, and a slime seemingly in its infancy, all meandering about in front of a set of golden doors. The golden doors lie there, untarnished, as if separated from the bonds of time, looking as if they were forged just yesterday. Although they sit, almost unsurpassed in grandiosity by any human creation, aglitter with the few beams if sunlight that claw their way through the surrounding fog, puzzlingly the doors are not connected to any part of the remnants of the castle, yet they stand there just as sturdy as an oak.

After being captured for a few moments by the dazzling spectacle, Ryan turns his attention away from the doors and back towards the group of slimes. He quickly makes a plan in his head, to avoid a premature and unprepared engagement.

'140 MP, so seven arrows. One for each of the normal ones, two for the mutant... and the last two for the small one. Okay so I can fire off 3 arrows at once... Yeah I should narrow down their numbers first, so the small ones first, then the big guy, and finish off with the small one. Alright… it’s time to get this started.'

With a small exhale, Ryan comes out from behind the wall, staff in hand, and starts chanting his new spell immediately.

"Arrows birthed from fire, soar through the air and pierce through my foes: Multiple Fire Arrows."

3 streams of fire sprout from the bejeweled staff's tip, and grow into three identical arrows of flame that fly forward immediately after their formation. A scream rings out in the courtyard as the arrows stream through the air, as though carried by the wind itself, and impact the three normal sized slimes, evaporating them instantly. The sound of the clinking of a few objects hitting the worn stone floor makes its way to Ryan's ears in confirmation that the trio has perished. He then turns his attention towards the mutant slime who is now plowing towards him, with the small one trailing right behind.

Ryan quickly starts up a new chant, and the 3 arrows of flame form once again. They fly forward 2 impacting the mutant slime, only a few yards away, while the third flies towards the small slime. But, unexpectedly, the last remaining slime, as if having a premonition of the danger it would soon encounter, dodges behind a pile of rubble, escaping from the incoming projectile as the arrow of flame impacts the chunks of rock making up the rubble pile, leaving behind a charred, couple inch deep, dent upon its surface.

The slime, uninjured from the failed spell, immediately jumps out from behind the debris and charges at a speed at least twice as fast as before. Ryan, pupils shrinking to a near nothingness in size, quickly turns around and dashes into the only safe looking space, an open corridor. He sprints down the dust covered halls lined with rotten paintings of a glamorous time of yore, all faded away and giving off a foul stench. His feet make empty echoes as they rapidly strike down on the, almost dust-like, remains of the thick carpet below. As he turns a corner, he is greeted by a site that would remind almost anyone of the typical horror clichés, a dead end.

The hall has collapsed midway, a pile of stone blocking the way forward, and no other way to go in sight.

Sweat pouring down his now pale face, Ryan turns and faces the incoming threat, his heart pounding, reverberating in his ears, as if there was a war drum being beaten half to death just beside him. The small green slime enters his view after a couple moments of tense silence in that corridor, and upon seeing that pale green ball of fury, Ryan begins chanting out his spell as fast as his mouth would allow, and he shoots his last flaming arrow towards the charging foe.

The slime, similar to before, tries dodging out of the way, but with the barren corridor holding no cover to hide behind, Ryan, with what little control he has over his spell, maneuvers it to strike a direct hit on the slime. Coupled with the loud sound of boiling liquid and the creation of a small cloud of steam obscuring his vision, Ryan anxiously and fruitlessly stares at the steam cloud trying to see what lies within, as if by divine happenstance, he would suddenly gain the ability to see through it.

A few moments pass by, chronicled only by the numerous beads of sweat upon Ryan's forehead that have fallen to the ground, when suddenly a green mass shoots out through the fog, although a successful dodge by Ryan renders its attack ineffective. The green mass impacts the wall rubble pile behind Ryan, and it slowly drips down its uneven surface. Dumbfounded by this unique sight, Ryan tries casting another spell towards it, but caught up in the situation before him, he forgets he has no mana until the words of one of his spells rings out in the corridor, absent of the gentle light of the flame that it creates. Ryan apprehensively stares at the green blob as it tries to reform its previous spherical shape to no avail. He then hesitantly steps forward towards the puddle of green goo resting on the rubble, and whacks the end of his staff upon it, with all of the strength he can muster in his fatigued body.

With a sound reminiscent of a soft clap, the bejeweled tip of the staff strikes down right on the green mass. A spasm of some sort takes hold over the slime, its body rippling violently as it struggles to escape, until a sudden, glass-shattering, screech escapes from its devastated body.

Ryan clutches his ears in anguish, as he tries to block off the madness inducing noise battering his very being to its core, but suddenly, silence. The image of a tormented man, unexpectedly morphs into one of confusion. Ryan slowly removes his hands from his ears hesitantly, expecting the screech from the slime to, once again, strike at his unprepared self. He glances around to see what has become of the slime that has stopped its cry, but Ryan still sees its writhing figure. Ryan looks down to the ground to grab the staff he dropped in a panic earlier, and finds it a few feet away. He strides over to his staff, and reaches out to grab its sturdy shaft, when he suddenly notices the mass of congealing blood on his palms. He worriedly thinks to himself, where the blood might have come from, when a frightening realization dawns on him. Ryan quickly moves his hands back towards his ears, and there he finds trails of blood dripping from his ears down his face.

Ryan's face distorts, his breaths rapidly accelerate, and a loud scream escapes from his mouth, at least he believes it does.

***

Harkening back to the age old question of, "If a tree falls down in a forest, but no-one is around to hear it fall, does it make a noise?", this very next question is much in the same vein of philosophical query. If you scream out, but you are unable to hear it, did you really scream? Sure you may have felt your throat contract, the air leave your lungs, and you might possibly feel a vibration throughout your body, as your "scream" escapes you, but you can't prove that you have done it, alone at least. But as it so happens, the only other being in the same room at this point in time, is surely is not in a state to share its opinion with Ryan, even if it could communicate, and if it even wanted to, which judging by the typical attitude of slimes before it, it does not wish to do so.

All this internal philosophical debate bounded around inside of Ryan's head alongside the part which contemplated if there was a way to restore his hearing and the part which thought about all of the things he would miss out on in the future, almost as wildly as a swarm of vengeful bees.

***

Ryan, after a few more moments lost inside of his own head, finally regains his sense of self. He picks up his staff and begins walking back towards the slime, a dead look in his eyes. He raises it over his head and slams down, once again impacting its soft being. An even more intense ripple breaks out upon its body, and through the staff, still planted within it, he feels a vibration, which nearly takes it out of his hands. A numb look creeps onto his face as he tries removing any and all emotion he feels about this injury he will now have to suffer with in the future.

The staff once again rises up, and then falls back down again, followed by the slight pause of the slime and subsequent ripple.

Up, down, ripple.

Up, down, ripple.

Up, down, ripple.

Up, down... nothing.

The slime finally succumbs to its inevitable demise, where instead of evaporating as all others had before it, it simply loses its shape and turns to a mere puddle, now unbound by whatever forces were acting upon it previously. Out of this slowly expanding puddle, a few golden coins float up from some place unexplainable. Five in number, they reflect what little light shines through the corridor, from the embers left behind by Ryan's spell, or the miniscule rays beaming down through the paper-thin cracks in the ceiling above.

Cautious in his approach, Ryan tears off a loose thread from his ragged orange, now close to brown with dirt, uniform, and places one end within the remnants of the slime. After a few seconds without the thread dissolving, Ryan grasps the coins, getting some slime on his hands in the effort. He mutters the magic phrase, "Absorb", and the gold coins turn to fluid, which is subsequently absorbed by him, bringing his counter up to nine. Afterwards, he wipes off the remnant slime on his hands, and walks back out the corridor to collect his other spoils of war.

***

A few minutes later and after grabbing a few pick-ups here and there, Ryan is back in the rank corridor now filled with the sour stench of the remnants of the slime. As he looks over his loot from the earlier battle, Ryan casts a quick glance over at his still injured left leg.

'It may not smell great, but at least I won't get sneak attacked again here.',

Resting in Ryan's cupped palms, lies several gold coins and 2 slime cores of identical size and shape. He holds back the urge to outworld mutter "Profile", catching it in his throat, as there would be no point in muttering aloud, unless to possibly attract the enemy to oneself.

'Profile'

-General Information-

Name: Ryan Mitchel

Age: 23

Race: Human

Level: 0

Stat Points: 0

Gold: 9

-Stats-

Vitality: 9

Health Points(HP): 65/90

Physical Resistance: 0.21%

Stamina: 12

Stamina Points(SP): 120/120

Constitution: 11

HP Regeneration: 1.1% per 5 Minutes

SP Regeneration: 1.1% per 5 Minutes

Intelligence: 14

Mana Points(MP): 2/140

Magical Resistance: 0.29%

Wisdom: 15

MP Regeneration: 1.5% per 5 Minutes

Luck: 0

Critical Hit: 0%

Affliction Resistance: 0.11%

-Titles-

-Traits-

The Curse of Cronus

-Skills-

Stealth Commands

-Afflictions-

The Conqueror's Encouragement

Acid Burn (Small)

Ruptured Eardrum

'Identify'

Ruptured Eardrum

Affliction Rank: C

Reduces HP by 10, unregenerable, points. All hearing is lost while this affliction is possessed, in addition, the posessor's sense of balance will also be reduced. Heals naturally after 28 days. Only through using healing items or healing spells can the time needed for this affliction to fully heal, be sped up.

Time left until healed: 671:54:32

'Well, maybe the shop has something that would help me out here, but I'd better absorb those other gold coins first.'

The gold coins, once again, melt into that seemingly possessed liquid, which worms itself through Ryan's body, into the most vulnerable of places bringing his counter up to a renewed 13.

'Well, let's get this shop open. "Shop".'

~Shop~

Buy

Sell

Trade

Ryan anxiously opens up the "Buy" section, and a collage of alien looking devices, foodstuffs, weapons, armors, and more, clutter his view. After a few minutes of fumbling around with the illusory interface, he finally finds the tab in which the sorting filters are located. Price descending, he selects, and a rapid shuffling of square icons takes place across his vision over the next five seconds. As he refocuses his eyes on the top line of items, much to his dismay, they all start at a price of 15 gold coins. His neck, arched in anxiety, gradually drifts back to its normal place, and his legs guide him to the floor, after which, he leans his back against the worn stone wall behind him.

A longing for a brief respite from the stress of the "new world" takes its hold on Ryan, and he begrudgingly gives into his internal urges for rest. He leans his head back and gazes at the pseudo night sky just above. A blanket of black, peppered with sparkling motes of light dancing above. Soon a wave of fatigue batters Ryan, and his eyes slowly close, albeit with the occasional counter attack against this most recent of enemies.

***

Fog swarms throughout the derelict castle ruins, drifting past the centuries old copper doors, the numerous piles of rubble, and even the otherworldly set of grand golden doors. Within this fog, numerous green, spherical bodies gather amongst themselves, before rushing at the high castle walls, as the small in comparison gateway is not large enough to accommodate their charge. An intense shaking takes hold amongst the centuries old grounds, as a dense rain of stone and slime alike comes down from above.

Ryan, still resting in the darkness of the corridor's end, is awoken by the earthquake-like occurrence.

"What is this?", he says aloud.

Ryan scrambles to his feet and begins trying to make his way out from the, now collapsing, tunnel as dust streams down from above, half blinding him. He inches forward down the hall, hands outstretched in caution, as the dust begins coating his lungs. Coughs echo restlessly throughout the enshrouded path, although Ryan is unable to hear his lungs' desperate cries. Tears begin forming and then flowing down his face as his eyes are covered even more thoroughly in debris. And as the dust cakes over all that remains untainted on his person, a few stray beams of light shine from around a bend in the hallway. With what little sight remains, Ryan desperately clambers towards that consoling sight.

***

A hand reaches out of a sideways eruption of grey, grasping upon the mouth of the source. A second hand soon follows, both stained a dull hue, and coughs accompanying their arrival. A body matching the emotionless shade of the hands soon steps out of the torrent of grey. The hands then begin desperately grasping about their owner, searching for something untainted by the pallor tone the body now holds. A remnant cloth left untainted by the dust, although stained by other things, finds its way into the hands of the man, and it soon used to rub off the grey upon his face. Eyes now clear, the man takes in the despair-inducing sight that now takes up the ruins of the castle, the word ruins now a more fitting word than it was only an hour ago.

Walls, once a bastion of strength, now lie a pile of shattered stone upon the age old, weed ridden, castle floors. Conical towers toppled into ruin, keystones destroyed, and doorways rubble. Swarming over this mass of destruction are a countless number of green orbs sporting an anger-like tremble.

A last boom of collapse sounds out just behind the man, and a torrent of wind whips his hair and clothing forward along with a portion of the dust that lies upon his body. Coupled with that boom heralding certain doom, the slimes all charge forward towards that simultaneously emotionless and sorrow ridden man.

***

A wild flailing, like a fish out of water. Submerged amongst a sea of green, the spasming limbs of Ryan occasionally pierce through the shimmering jelly-like surface only to immediately be swallowed back up by the shifting "tides". Over time, the movements slow as the hair, skin, and muscles dissolve away into the depths of the green sea. Eyes vibrate in fear, or at least what remains of them, and bubbles entrapping Ryan's screams escape towards the free world, free of the slow and painful death he is experiencing. Finally his nerves dissolve away and the half instinctive, half reactionary responses to the pain still. A look of acceptance, or at least the closest thing you could get to a look of acceptance on a face that is a mess of flesh and exposed bone, appears upon Ryan. Then over a few dozen seconds, the rest of his veins, muscles, and blood leave him, followed by the organs and little by little, the bones. Last goes the brain, exposed after the skull has been melted away, and then, finally, nothing.

***

In the midst of a crowd, half awake and half asleep, the heavily sweating body of a man in an orange jumpsuit shoots awake. Heavy pants escape from his mouth, and his right hand pulls the sweat off his colorless face as he mutters quietly to himself.

Suddenly, a bright and not so unfamiliar flash of light appears above. A few seconds pass as the light begins to fade, and a faint silhouette of a man in a suit gradually appears into being.

The man in the orange jumpsuit's expression begins to twist into a torrent of emotions, and a small murmur escapes from his dry lips.

"It wasn't a dream."