Draven stopped just as they were leaving the den.
Aldric noticed immediately.
"What is it?"
The cultist, still busy stuffing troll remains into his space ring, glanced up nervously.
"My lord? Is something wrong?"
Draven didn't answer.
He stared at the slimes.
They still oozed around the edges of the basin, small gelatinous shapes absorbing bits of residual mana and dissolved organic matter.
Harmless.
Simple.
Brainless, as Aldric had said.
Most of them were little more than cleaning pests in cities—creatures that dissolved waste and kept sewers from overflowing.
But Draven's gaze locked onto one in particular.
A tiny slime.
Smaller than the rest.
Barely the size of his palm.
It wobbled toward a patch of blood and absorbed it, its translucent body shifting faintly as the material dissolved inside.
Draven stepped forward.
Slow.
Unhurried.
The slime noticed movement and wobbled in place, its gelatinous surface rippling.
It wasn't aggressive.
Slimes rarely were.
They absorbed whatever they touched—mana, organic matter, anything—but they didn't chase prey.
They were opportunists.
Draven crouched.
The cat in his arms shifted, watching with bright eyes.
He reached out.
The slime trembled slightly as his hand approached.
Then—
It didn't flee.
Draven lifted it.
Cold.
Gelatinous.
It quivered in his palm, small tendrils of slime touching his skin.
Aldric blinked.
"…You're not serious."
The slime quivered in his hand.
Gelatinous.
Cold.
It didn't struggle.
It simply absorbed a tiny amount of mana from his skin.
Aldric stared.
"What do you want with that?"
Draven looked at the slime.
"I will keep it."
Aldric raised an eyebrow.
"Keep it?"
"…You're joking. Don't tell me you find it cute or some nonsense like that."
Draven didn't laugh.
"I will use it."
The slime pulsed faintly in his hand.
Draven continued.
"To clean up."
Aldric stared.
Then let out a short laugh.
"You're not serious."
He scratched the back of his head.
"But these things don't exactly… think."
The cultist paused mid-scavenge.
"My lord, slimes are primitive organisms," he said carefully. "They absorb whatever they touch—dirt, blood, residue—but they don't understand commands. They are utility creatures. They dissolve waste. That is all."
Aldric nodded.
"Exactly. They eat whatever they can. If you leave it near something, it will try dissolving it. If you're not careful, it'll eat your hand."
He pointed at the slime in Draven's hand.
"It's not going to clean for you. It's going to dissolve whatever it touches."
Draven studied the slime.
It wobbled.
Tiny droplets of absorbed mana shimmered inside it.
He turned it slightly.
It didn't attack.
It didn't resist.
Aldric sighed.
"Great. You want to keep it. Now what?"
Draven's eyes narrowed slightly.
"I will sign a contract."
Silence.
Aldric stared.
"…A contract."
"Yes."
"With a slime."
Aldric blinked.
Then laughed.
Not mockingly.
More in disbelief.
"You can't be serious."
Draven looked at him.
The cultist finally straightened.
"My lord… contracts with slimes are uncommon. They are simple creatures. Barely intelligent."
Aldric smirked.
"Barely? That's generous."
He folded his arms.
"You can't just bind anything that moves. It has to understand the agreement."
He tilted his head.
"Does that thing look like it understands anything?"
The slime in Draven's hand wobbled.
It made a small bubbling sound.
Draven watched it.
Then spoke.
"You clean."
The slime shifted.
Not a meaningful response.
But it reacted.
Aldric rubbed his temple.
"This is ridiculous."
Draven continued.
"You will clean."
The slime pulsed again.
It oozed slightly toward his fingers, absorbing a tiny amount of dried blood.
Not aggressively.
Not harmfully.
Just consumption.
Aldric stared.
"…It's eating your blood."
Draven stared back.
"Yes."
"That's what it does, genius."
Draven looked at him.
"And cleaning."
Aldric opened his mouth—
Then closed it.
He exhaled sharply.
"You're serious."
Draven didn't answer.
He held the slime up slightly.
It wobbled.
Draven's gaze softened—barely.
"It is useful."
Aldric shook his head.
"Insane."
The forest grew quiet.
Aldric's expression shifted from disbelief to something more serious.
"And how are you planning on doing that, anyway?" he asked flatly. "You've got mana inside you now, sure. But that isn't yours."
His eyes sharpened.
"One wrong fluctuation… and that bomb inside you goes off."
The air felt heavier.
Draven said nothing.
The slime quivered faintly in his palm.
Aldric continued, voice lower.
"You can't sign contracts freely. Not in your condition."
Silence lingered for a breath.
Then—
The cultist stepped forward.
Carefully.
"My lord…"
He bowed his head slightly.
"If it is your will… I can facilitate the contract."
Aldric glanced at him.
"You?"
The cultist nodded.
"I specialize in ritual formations. I can act as an intermediary."
He looked at Draven.
"The contract would not draw directly from your unstable mana. I would construct a minor binding circle… a controlled channel."
He hesitated.
"It would be simple. A basic master–utility familiar bond."
Aldric narrowed his eyes.
"And you're confident it won't trigger anything?"
"I would regulate the flow," the cultist replied calmly. "Only a thread. Nothing explosive."
Draven's gaze shifted to him.
"You can do it."
"Yes, my lord."
Aldric exhaled slowly.
"…This is absurd."
He looked at the slime.
Then at Draven.
"You're risking detonation for a cleaning tool."
Draven's grip did not tighten.
His voice remained even.
"Do it."
The cultist immediately knelt.
He removed a small chalk-like crystal from his sleeve and began drawing a compact circular formation on the ground.
Precise.
Measured.
Symbols etched quickly but carefully.
A minor contract seal.
Not one meant for powerful beasts.
Something small.
Contained.
The slime wobbled in Draven's hand.
Unaware of the weight of the moment.
Aldric watched silently now.
The circle was completed.
The cultist looked up.
"My lord. Place it at the center."
Draven stepped forward and lowered the slime into the formation.
The symbols faintly glowed.
A thin pulse of mana activated the circle.
Controlled.
Filtered.
Directed through the cultist's channel.
The slime rippled.
Draven extended a finger toward it.
A single strand of mana flowed—
Regulated.
Measured.
The circle absorbed excess fluctuations.
Stabilized the thread.
The slime pulsed once.
Twice.
Then stilled.
A faint mark shimmered inside its translucent body.
The contract settled.
No explosion.
No surge.
Just a quiet binding.
The cultist exhaled slowly.
"It is done, my lord."
Aldric stared at the tiny slime sitting in the glowing circle.
"…You actually did it."
Draven bent down and picked it up.
The slime clung gently to his hand.
Not dissolving.
Not consuming.
Waiting.
Draven spoke one word.
"Clean."
The slime oozed across his fingers, absorbing dried blood without harming the skin beneath.
Aldric shook his head.
"…Unbelievable."
The cultist lowered his gaze respectfully.
"My lord now has a contracted slime."
Draven turned toward the forest path.
The slime resting in his palm.
"Let's go."
Draven adjusted the slime in his hand.
It oozed slightly but remained.
Useful.
Simple.
A tool.
He began walking again.
The others followed.
Aldric muttered under his breath.
"First the cat. Now a slime."
He glanced at Draven.
"What's next? A damn rock?"
Draven didn't respond.
He carried the slime.
It wobbled.
And for now—
That was enough.