Its DEX was still miles better than mine, so the strategy here was to tank its attack twice then hit back with one of mine.

  I let it attack first.

  Unbelievable. Even with its Basic Lunge activated, I took minimal damage.

  Then it drew a limb back too far. That looked like commitment. That looked like Viscous Impale.

  The air around me dipped a few degrees, breath frosting just a little at the edges. I stepped aside before it even finished aligning, and its limb speared through the empty space. This creature seemed to need time to charge its skill, and evading it was easy enough.

  The creature recoiled, mass tightening as translucent veins flared beneath its surface. This one didn’t come with a clean strike—no lunge, no obvious direction. I checked its remaining skill.

  …Yikes.

  I didn’t have time to be careful, but I had time to end it.

  I activated Static Surge.

  The thing didn’t just fall. It didn’t even stagger. It dissolved. One second it was there; the next, it was nothing but a faint shimmer in the air, evaporating before my very eyes.

  I… I’d become this good at killing slimes. So good, in fact, that I could probably grind through entire dungeons like this and level up absurdly fast. One careful calculation, a well-timed surge, and the enemy barely had time to exist before it was gone. Slime dungeons might actually become fun.

  Wait. Last time I’d fought a Gelid Strider, I’d gotten... 69 EXP. Maybe the system had adjusted the reward because I was now comparatively so strong against it, the creature barely counted as a threat anymore.

  I glanced up and saw Anabeth crouched a few paces away, scribbling furiously in her little notebook. Her quill moved so fast it almost blurred as she narrated her own entry.

  “The first time Sir Knight uses an element! I must note it down! Used primary affinity for the first time. Month 04 of 12, Year 3956…”

  Of course, she had added a little star next to the entry, because nothing in her system was complete without the appropriate embellishments.

  Her eyes shone behind the quill-stained tips of her fingers. “Sir Knight, make sure you note this: this is one of the highest-level slime dungeons in the region. That means the boss could be one of the hardest you’ve faced yet.”

  Good. Now that my Gelid Fragment Infusion had proven itself, I had the perfect opportunity to test just how much my preparation mattered.

  Unfortunately, I seemed to have grown a new tail.

  Anabeth was practically welded to my back, pressing her cheek against me and wrapping her arms around my waist with the single-minded tenacity of someone who had decided this was now her safe operating position.

  “… Witch,” I said slowly.

  “Yes?” she replied, without looking up.

  “You are attached.”

  “Mm. Yes. That happens sometimes.”

  “Release me at once.”

  “The boss aura hasn’t manifested yet. Which means we’re in the anticipatory lethality window. Very dangerous. Best place is clearly within one meter of you.” She pressed her cheek against me again. “Mmm. How refreshing. You know, most companions stand behind the knight.”

  “Release me now, or I will not be responsible for where you end up if I keep moving.”

  “Oh,” she breathed. “You’re including me in your momentum. How intimate.”

  She did release me, but only to scribble in her entry again. “Sir Knight promised intimate time. Month 04 of 12, Year 3956. Also, Gelid Striders do not drop Gelid Slime Core. Disappointing.”

  Seven Striders later, I finally reached the final chamber. The ceiling widened into a natural dome, stalactites dripping with moisture, and underneath, something large moved in the shadows.

  It was massive—far larger than any Gelid Strider I’d faced. Its translucent body shimmered with a sickly green luminescence, and its tendrils curled outward like writhing ropes of living jelly.

  My calculations ran through my mind: Gelid Crush, Oozing Tendrils, kinetic resistance... All really bad for me. But if I timed this right, I could beat it.

  I lunged.

  Its massive arm swung, far too large to dodge.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  7 HP. That was the best a Slime Emperor could do against me. My turn.

  Before I could make a move, the Emperor’s other appendages lashed out. They didn’t hit hard enough to hurt outright, but the impact left a residual effect.

  Endurable.

  Now, my turn.

  I adjusted my stance, keeping my feet planted firmly, and activated Static Surge once more, aligning my blade with the residual aether that ran through the Emperor’s form. It was too large to dodge; I just needed to hit its weak point near the center of its translucent mass.

  I did.

  The strike landed perfectly. The Gelid Emperor wobbled like a jar of jelly knocked off a shelf. If I continued with the same strategy, timing my attacks and leveraging elemental alignment, the Emperor would dissolve just as predictably as the Striders before it. Pure mathematics. Pure inevitability.

  The Emperor had ceased its wobbling and was preparing for a counter. Why did the Slime Emperor stay calm during my calculations? Because no matter how it expanded, I could always integrate it.

  I tanked a few more hits from the creature and brought my sword down again. This time, I didn’t hit the weak point, but still dealt 41 damage. I was still at 45 HP.

  The outcome had been decided.

  Anabeth crouched beside the puddle, humming to herself as she gathered the scattered loot. Her quill still dangled from her hand, and her eyes sparkled as she glanced up at me.

  “Sir! How good does it feel not having to hide your aetheric affinity anymore?” she said, almost bouncing with excitement. “Though I must say... how stubborn you are, refusing to use anything beyond the most basic spell! Still... I’ve never seen Static Surge annihilate a Slime Emperor in three strikes. Even when restrained, your power knows no bounds, sir.”

  That was because of my unfair scaling skills...

  Anabeth padded over and pressed a glowing green globular core into my hands: The Trapped Soul of Emperor Doza.

  She looked far too pleased with herself. “We don’t need to sell this, Sir. This is a weapon enchantment. Fully assembled, too! You won’t even need to hire a crafter.”

  I blinked down at the soul. It pulsed once, sluggish and resentful.

  She continued, “I noticed you haven’t acquired a boss-tier weapon enchantment yet. Most Slime Lords only drop partial essences, so this is our lucky day. From what I’ve read, you’d normally have to farm Doza ten times at least before a full item drops.”

  I checked its description:

  This had a cooldown timer, but no AP cost, which made sense. That meant the power wasn’t being drawn from me. The enchantment was self-contained, so I wasn’t casting anything; I was simply giving the trigger condition.

  “Are you pleased with it, Sir?” Anabeth peered at my face.

  “Most pleased,” I said. My voice took on an unnaturally low and menacing baritone.

  “Mmm. In that case,” Anabeth tilted her head thoughtfully, “If you’re truly that pleased, Sir... I wouldn’t object to a small, personal demonstration of appreciation. For academic completeness.”

  “Speak now, little witch, and I shall consider granting you your wish.”

  Anabeth’s eyes gleamed, bright and intent, the way they did when she was on the verge of proposing something thoroughly researched and wildly inappropriate. She opened her mouth, already leaning closer, voice lowering just enough to imply that whatever she was about to suggest had footnotes she would not be sharing aloud.

  I spoke immediately. “Do not initiate debauchery. We are in a Slime Dungeon.”

  She deflated immediately. Her shoulders sagged as she pouted. “I’ll reformulate the hypothesis.”

  I repeated, “No debauchery.”

  “Of course, of course,” she said quickly. “Nothing of the sort. Pure professionalism.” She took a step closer anyway. “Still, for the sake of accurate observation... may I suggest you lift your helm halfway? Purely so I can confirm your expression. Context matters.”

  I hesitated. Then, against my better judgment, I thumbed the release and raised the helm just enough to breathe freely.

  I should’ve known better.

  Her hands immediately curled around my gorget before I could lower it again. She pulled me down and kissed me with decisive enthusiasm, all tongue and heat, as though this had been the obvious next step in a well-structured argument.

  Something squelched in the distance. We both smelled like slime. This was, objectively, the worst possible setting for anything resembling romance.

  Anabeth didn’t seem to care.

  The road took on its familiar rhythm again as the Bounty Board unfolded before my eyes. They looked exactly like a floating ledger, parchment-toned and neatly indexed, with rows of contracts scrolling past with quiet efficiency. They looked just like the Bounty Board nailed to guild halls and tavern walls, only with an extra line for ‘system’ (which I assumed to be what Ceralis called itself) reward at the bottom.

  I stopped at one.

  Really? The guy couldn’t be bothered to fetch his own book. A magistrate, no less.

  Still... the location was convenient, and the element was lightning. The title alone made my fingers itch. Good, I thought. I can read it on the way.

  Another scroll of the board confirmed what I’d already suspected.

  This place was quiet.

  Most postings were rated D or C, consisting of escort work along well-patrolled roads, minor monster clear-outs at the edge of the lowlands, arbitration requests between guilds who didn’t trust one another to count coins fairly. There were bounties for lost heirlooms, for smugglers who’d already fled, for things that might have been dangerous if left unattended another month. The highest-ranked contract in all of South Aurelienth sat at a B.

  That told me that Aurelienth was peaceful, heavily warded, and possibly garrisoned by people who took their jobs seriously (even though I’d seen few of them).

  Anabeth tapped a finger at the back of my armor. “Sir. We’re in front of the Grand Library.”

  I lifted my gaze.

  Ah. Yes. We were. Main objective first.

  “Brace yourself,” I intoned. “We are to locate the Provisional Archives of Knightly Affairs.”