The next morning, Alder awoke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest.
Oh no.
Sunlight was already streaming through the window, painting golden streaks across his dorm room. He had overslept.
"Damn it," he muttered, leaping out of bed. He yanked on his clothes, barely pausing to run a hand through his messy hair before grabbing his bag and rune stones. His boots thudded against the polished floors as he bolted down the academy corridors, his breath echoing in the empty halls.
Today wasn't just any day — it was Evolutions class. And being late for Professor Frizzle's lecture was not an option.
He burst into the classroom just in time to see the professor herself step through the doorway. Cal and Sara had saved him a seat, waving him over with grins. Alder mouthed a silent thank you as he slid into place, trying to steady his racing heart.
Professor Frizzle commanded the room with quiet authority. Her emerald-green robes were lined with silver thread, and her sharp eyes gleamed behind a pair of half-moon spectacles. When she smiled, the tension in the room melted instantly.
"Welcome, everyone," she said warmly. "My name is Professor Frizzle. I specialize in monster evolution and the factors that influence it. Over the course of this year, you'll learn not only how monsters evolve, but why. Evolution isn't luck — it's understanding. Knowledge shapes power."
A murmur of excitement rippled through the class.
As she spoke, a group of academy assistants entered, pushing carts laden with small cages. The metallic clatter drew everyone's attention as the cages were placed in front of each student — each accompanied by a faintly glowing runestone.
Inside the cages, translucent creatures pulsed gently, their gelatinous bodies quivering in rhythm.
"Slimes?" Alder whispered.
Professor Frizzle nodded. "Yes — your first project begins today. Each of you will seal one of these slimes using the runestone provided. Throughout the year, you'll nurture it and guide its evolution. Your grade will depend on two things: the quality of your evolution and the accuracy of your research journal."
A hand shot up from the middle of the room. "Wait," Cal said. "We get to keep these?"
"How else would you learn?" Professor Frizzle replied, amused. "And before anyone gets clever — any attempt to cheat or claim another student's evolved slime as your own will result in immediate failure. Trust me, I will know."
Alder couldn't help but grin. This was the kind of challenge he loved — practical, hands-on, and full of possibility.
The slimes wobbled within their cages, their translucent forms glinting faintly under the lantern light. Alder's own was small, colorless, and decidedly unimpressive. Still, he held his runestone firmly and focused.
A pale glow filled the air as the slime dissolved into energy, sealing itself into the stone. Alder smiled faintly. "Guess that makes us a team," he said softly. "I'll call you… Pudge. For now."
Across the room, laughter erupted. Damon's smug voice cut through the chatter. "Did you hear that? The commoner named his slime!"
Alder ignored him, but Cal didn't. "You might want to worry about passing, Damon," he said coolly. "That takes effort — something you nobles aren't used to."
Before things could escalate, Professor Frizzle clapped her hands. "Enough! Save your rivalries for the training grounds. In this class, the only status that matters is results."
Her sharp tone silenced the room.
"Now, let's begin with the fundamentals," she continued. "A monster's diet affects its evolution. Every material it consumes influences its body and magic. Slimes are particularly versatile — they can digest nearly anything, giving them infinite evolutionary potential. Feed a slime iron dust, it might become metallic. Feed it herbs, it might grow healing properties. The possibilities are endless."
Students scribbled notes feverishly. Even Alder felt his mind race with ideas. Feed it something connected to my nature magic, he thought. Maybe ironwood shavings?
When class ended, Cal and Sara approached with eager smiles.
"Hey, Alder," Cal said, "we're meeting in the commoners' dorm to brainstorm evolution ideas. You in?"
Alder grinned. "Wouldn't miss it."
---
That afternoon, the group gathered in the dorm lounge. Scrolls and books littered the table as they brainstormed ways to push their slimes' potential.
"We can't afford high-end ingredients," Tarrel said, frowning. "Our evolutions will be low quality compared to the nobles'."
"Not necessarily," Sara replied. "Slimes can digest anything, remember? Even scraps might be enough if we're smart about it."
Tarrel's eyes lit up. "If I get cheap, broken weapons from the blacksmith, maybe I can make a metal slime!" Without another word, he rushed off, his excitement echoing down the hall.
Alder chuckled. "He's got energy, I'll give him that."
As the laughter settled, inspiration struck him. "If I collect pieces of ironwood from the forest and feed them to Pudge," he mused, "he might evolve into a bark slime. It's a rare nature variant — hard to find but sturdy."
"That sounds perfect," Sara said, nodding. "I think I've got mine figured out too. Cookie's been hunting horned rabbits — I'll use their remains to make a Beast-type slime."
Cal leaned back, arms crossed. "I'm going to try feeding mine lava rock. If it works, I'll get a magma variant — something to support Ceana."
Excitement filled the room as each of them crafted their plans.
By the time they made it to dinner, the smell of roasted meat and baked bread filled the air. The dining hall was alive with laughter and clinking cutlery.
"Wow," Cal said around a mouthful of food, "I don't think I've ever eaten this well in my life."
Alder nodded, smiling. "Back home, Mom made vegetable stew every Sunday. Dad would tell stories about our ancestors around the table. It was the only time we ever really stopped working."
Sara smiled wistfully. "My grandmother used to bake bread every morning. The smell would fill the whole house."
Alder found himself watching her more than listening. There was something about the warmth in her voice — the easy kindness that reminded him of home. His heart thumped quietly in his chest. No. Don't go there, he thought, shaking it off. You're friends. That's all.
After dinner, plans formed quickly.
"I'm heading to the library," Cal announced. "Got to do some research for our slime project."
"I'll join you," Sara said, rising from her seat.
Tarrel smirked. "The training arena's calling my name. Need to work off this meal."
Alder chuckled. "I'll leave the fighting to you. I've got a project of my own."
Back in his dorm, Alder pulled a block of ironwood from under his bed — a piece he'd scavenged during his forest training. Its surface gleamed faintly under the lamplight, rich with earthy scent.
He ran a thumb across the grain and smiled. "Let's see what I can do."
With practiced hands, he drew his carving knife and began to work. Wood shavings curled away in smooth ribbons as he shaped the block into a slender, curved blade. Each stroke was deliberate, steady, filled with quiet focus.
The sun dipped low, casting a golden glow across his desk as the knife took form — elegant, balanced, and alive with the subtle pulse of nature magic.
When he set the finished piece down, Alder leaned back and smiled.
"Not bad," he murmured to himself. "Not bad at all."