The forest dimmed beneath the rising moon, shadows weaving through the trees like smoke. Sora slid across the damp moss, his body trembling with each push forward. He couldn't speak, couldn't shout, couldn't even breathe—but his core pulsed with a single, unbroken instinct.
Follow her.
The Hero's mana trail glimmered faintly in the air, like strands of silver only he could sense. It pulled him across fallen branches and tangled roots, through cold puddles and thorny brush.
A distant crack—her boot snapping a dry twig.
Her voice followed. "Tch… damned forest."
Her tone was steady, low, annoyed. She wasn't talking to him, but Sora jolted at the sound, his form rippling. He pressed himself flatter to the ground, instinctively hiding. Still, her presence drew him forward, stubborn as a tide.
She walked with purpose, hand on her sword's hilt. Her cape brushed the ferns, dark blue catching faint moonlight. She paused often, listening, scanning, wary. She had noticed something following her—him—but she didn't know what.
At least not yet.
"Still behind me," she muttered. She didn't turn around. "Persistent little monster."
Sora stopped moving. His core flickered, almost stung by the word.
Monster.
That was what he was. What everyone would call him. What she had nearly killed him for being.
His body shrank slightly, trembling.
But he followed again.
They reached a shallow clearing. The Hero knelt, examining claw marks in the dirt—fresh, jagged, deep.
"Great. A territorial brute." She clicked her tongue. "Perfect."
She rose, gripping her sword. "If you're going to keep stalking me, at least keep up."
Sora stiffened.
She was talking to him.
Not knowing.
Not understanding.
But talking.
He let out a faint wobble—barely a sound—like a wet tap on stone.
She paused.
"…Huh."
For a moment, the forest held its breath. Sora's jelly-like form tilted, as if expecting something. The Hero's eyes scanned the tree line, then the ground, then the shadows—never quite landing on him.
Whatever she sensed, it was too faint to pinpoint. "I don't have time for games."
She resumed walking.
Sora dragged himself forward again, faster this time, driven not just by instinct but by something sharper. A reaction. He wasn't sure what to call it.
Ahead, she reached a narrow chasm, its edges jagged and crumbling. She stepped back a pace, then leapt effortlessly across, landing light on her feet.
Sora approached the gap next.
He stared down the drop, trembling violently. His core pulsed in panic—fall, splatter, lose everything—but her trail was already fading on the other side.
He backed up, condensed his form, and launched himself.
He slammed the cliffside, stuck, slid, nearly fell.
His core thrummed with pain, flickering.
But he crawled upward, inch by inch, until he rolled over the top in a quivering heap.
On the other side, the Hero froze mid-stride.
"…Seriously?" she whispered. "You crossed that?"
She listened again—brows furrowed, lips tightening. Her instincts were too sharp to miss it entirely. She couldn't see him, but she knew something weak and stubborn was tailing her, overcoming obstacles it shouldn't be able to.
"Fine. Keep up, then."
Sora made a tiny ripple.
Her eye twitched. "Okay, what was that?"
She turned slightly this time. Just enough for Sora to see her profile—the sharp jawline, the focused eyes, the glint of her blade. Her gaze swept the ruins ahead, then the forest behind.
He froze completely.
For several long seconds, neither moved.
"…Whatever you are," she said softly, "don't make me regret sparing you."
She turned back around and walked on.
Sora followed.
The ruins rose before them, ancient stone half-swallowed by vines. Pillars leaned like tired giants. Shattered walls lay scattered, carved runes half-erased by time.
The Hero stopped, kneeling beside a faded marking. "Old kingdom script… this place wasn't on the map."
She brushed dirt away, squinting. "What happened here?"
Sora crept behind a fallen column, peeking with the top of his body. His core hummed with unease. The stones felt heavy—not physically, but with some old weight, as if they remembered blood and screams.
A low rumble vibrated through the ground.
The Hero stood instantly, blade drawn. "Come on then."
The guardian beast emerged—massive, stone-plated, red-hot veins glowing beneath its cracked hide. It roared, shaking dust loose from the ruins.
Sora jolted, his body shrinking back in instinctive terror.
The Hero didn't flinch.
"Of course," she said dryly. "You guardians wake up for everything except common sense."
The beast charged.
The Hero dodged, sliding across the dirt. Her blade flashed, striking its flank, sparks scattering.
"Hard shell…" she murmured, assessing. "Weak underbelly?"
The beast swung its tail. She blocked, boots skidding across the ground, teeth clenched.
"Hah—got you."
She ducked low beneath a clawed swipe, thrusting her blade into a glowing crack on its chest. The beast howled.
Sora watched from behind debris, trembling. His instincts screamed to hide. To flee. To become nothing. Yet he couldn't look away. When the Hero fought, the air warped. Her presence sharpened, her aura rising, cold and controlled.
She was terrifying.
And yet—
His core pulsed.
Not with fear.
With something he didn't have a word for yet.
The beast lunged, jaws wide.
The Hero slammed her boot into a broken pillar, launching herself upward. She spun midair, driving her blade straight into the beast's neck. Stone cracked. Mana flared. The impact shook the ruin walls.
The beast collapsed.
Silence returned.
Her breath steadied. She pulled her sword free, wiping the blade clean on her torn cape. "Another mess."
Her eyes swept the ruins slowly, carefully, searching for any other threat—
—and stopped.
Sora froze.
Her gaze fixed on the dull shimmer of his form peeking from behind the rubble.
"There you are," she whispered.
She took a step closer. Sora's form flattened, trembling uncontrollably.
She didn't lift her sword.
Not yet.
Her brows furrowed, confusion flickering across her face for the first time since he had seen her.
"You're… a slime?" Her voice softened in disbelief. "That's what's been following me?"
Sora rippled.
A tiny, involuntary sound escaped him—half wobble, half echo.
Her eyes widened slightly. Not fear. Not anger.
Something else.
"I almost killed you earlier," she said quietly. "So why follow me?"
Sora couldn't answer. He didn't have the organs. Or the words. Only a low pulse of his core, faint light flickering like a heartbeat.
She watched him, blade still lowered, posture tense but no longer hostile.
"…Persistent little creature."
Sora inched forward, the smallest motion.
She didn't retreat.
But she didn't reach for him either.
"I should leave you," she murmured. "But you crossed a chasm, outran beasts, crawled through ruins… and you still ended up here."
Sora rippled again—shy, fearful, stubborn.
The Hero lowered her gaze. "If you're a threat, I'll cut you down."
His body stiffened.
"But if you're not…" She sheathed her sword. "Stay out of my way."
She turned and began walking deeper into the ruins.
Sora followed—quiet as moonlight, trembling, determined.
Their footsteps—hers firm, his soft—echoed through the ancient stone.
Two beings who should never have crossed paths.
Both already too aware of the other.
Both already unable to look away.
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