[Book 1 Completed] Industrial Mage: Modernizing a Magical World [Kingdom Building LitRPG]
B2 | Chapter 8 – Slime Sample

With his eyes focused on a spot just over Baron Ashton's head, Roland stood perfectly attentive.

Rank 2 monster, my ass.

Roland would eat his own sword if the Slime King was still only Rank 2 after ingesting that much fervidite.

"Fifty percent," Theodore said suddenly. "Add to that 1/10th of the mines transferred over to me."

Roland hoped he could frame the portrait of the Baron's face. Shock melting into despair, then resignation.

When had the wastrel noble boy transformed into... this? Roland had watched it unfold day by day, and yet strangely, the entire weight of the transformation still shocked him occasionally.

Only half a year ago, Theodore couldn't negotiate his way out of his own bedroom if the door was unlocked.

"We have an agreement, Lord Theodore."

Only then did Theodore smile. That cautious little smile that never quite made it to his eyes. The one that left Roland wondering just what was going on inside his head.

"Excellent," Theodore said. "We begin preparations immediately."

And just like that, it was done.

The Baron excused himself, likely to go lick his wounds and figure out how to explain the new terms to his investors.

What would the old Theodore have done here?

At times, Roland found himself searching for that youngster in the guy in front of him, searching for clues, for indications that this was not Theodore but rather a fraudster. He had been replaced while Roland was not looking by some spirit or body-snatching creature.

And the truly fucked-up thing was, Roland wasn't entirely sure he'd do anything about it if that were the case.

Would Roland even want the old one back even if this was some demon or changeling clad in his skin?

He should have been more troubled by that idea than he was.

"You're thinking loudly again," Theodore said without looking up from the map.

"My lord?"

"Your thinking. I can practically hear it." Theodore finally looked up. "Something on your mind?"

"Just considering the Slime King, my lord," Roland lied. Not completely, anyway. "If I may speak freely?"

Theodore nodded and motioned for him to go on.

"If that thing's been feasting on fervidite and miners for this long, Rank 2 seems optimistic."

Theodore's lips quirked into what appeared to be a genuine grin.

"My thoughts exactly. Baron Ashton doesn't strike me as a man with a solid grasp on monsters."

"The man doesn't have a solid grasp on his own balls," Roland said before he could stop himself.

And then Theodore laughed.

Theodore got up from his chair and gently folded the map.

"We should inspect the western tunnels before we make concrete plans. I want to see how close the Slime King's territory comes to the active mining areas."

"Yes, my lord."

Theodore stopped and looked at Roland's face.

"You disagree?"

"No, my lord. It's tactically sound."

"But?"

"However, I would advise thorough fight preparations. We are dealing with a hunt, not a curiosity, if reports are to be believed."

"Then we hunt. It's been some time since you've had a proper fight, hasn't it, Roland?"

"Too long, my lord."

A Rank 2 monster, huh... seems like I'm going to have to let Lord Theodore handle this one. It has been a while since I had a proper fight, but Rank 2 isn't gonna make me break a sweat, so this is a great learning opportunity for him.

He was strangely excited.

***

Velka POV

Since being young, she'd had a knack for hiding.

Now, it was more than just skill, it was like an instinct so ingrained in her she could disappear as easily as breathing. Of course her [Assassin] Class Skills made it easier. In fact, her skill actually enveloped her like a second skin, ghostly aura slithering around her body, making it impossible for anybody other than the most precise detecting magic to detect her.

She watched as Theodore negotiated. Or more like, played with the Baron.

How interesting.

Theodore grinned as though he had just talked about the weather when the Baron left with his tail curled between his legs.

Velka shifted slightly and frowned. Her lips were thin and bloodless. If anyone had been looking, they might have called it a pout.

In reality, it was the look she had on her face before a kill.

She ghosted out the tent flap, making sure no one could detect her.

Rufus was leaning against a rock formation when she found him sharpening his ax. He always did this while he was thinking deeply, as if the movement aided his brain process. Velka stopped and observed him. Once, just before the corrupt captain's boot hit her neck, he killed him to save her.

All her life, no one had ever done that for her. She had to resort to all sorts of criminal activity—including extortion, murder, robbery, and thievery—to survive in the slums after her parents abandoned her.

Even so, he saved someone as hopeless as she was, as irredeemable as she was.

In exchange, he had not demanded anything.

Which is why she gave him everything.

"Rufus," she spoke as she moved from one shadow to another, eventually joining him at his side. "Theodore spoke with Ashton."

She gave him the rundown of everything she had heard. When she got to the part where Theodore squeezed the Baron dry, Rufus frowned.

"That much?"

"He negotiated like a viper," Velka said. "Not a shred of hesitation."

"Hmph. I knew he'd changed, but this... looks like he has teeth now."

Velka shuffled in close. Maybe she was too close, but Rufus never once told her to back off.

"He's dangerous."

"No argument here."

She cocked her head to the side, peering at him through her soot-colored hair.

"Then let me kill him."

"Velka—"

"I'll make it look like an accident. Like the tunnels took him."

"Are you insane? He's a noble. A royal, at that. You think we'll walk away from that clean?"

"I don't care," she said simply.

"Velka—"

"I'll take the fall if I have to," she said, almost reverently. "One life for your benefit? Gladly. I'd burn for you."

A change in the breeze caused her expression to sharpen into something nearly lovely for an instant. Like a knife watching a throat, her intense stare locked onto his.

Rufus let out a long breath.

"We don't make moves like that unless we want a war. His death would make the king look our way, and that's not good for us. Not since we pledged loyalty to that organization."

Nodding, she turned away.

Theodore would fall. Eventually. Every man had to sleep. Even kings.

But if Rufus said wait...

She'd wait. She'd watch. And when the order came—

She would paint the walls with royal blood.

***

Theodore POV

It hadn't taken long for Theodore to begin organizing the next step.

Within an hour, the mine entrance was cleared.

A small group of people gathered, with Roland at his side, of course, and Allen. The Baron also loaned two warriors with newly polished armor. The mine's overseer, Steward, was less polished and far less eager, though. Nevertheless, muttering to himself as though it would prevent death, he followed.

As he guided the group, Theodore kept his gaze fixed on the landscape. Roland followed behind him, remaining calm and collected. The two guards that Baron Ashton had "generously" provided clanked behind, evidently serving more as show than function. As the anxious mine foreman Steward puffed nervously.

"This really worth the risk?" one of the guards muttered. "A couple dead miners doesn't justify poking around where something's clearly not right."

"We're not here for a headcount," Allen replied. "We're here for a sample."

"A sample?" Steward scoffed. "You're dragging us through ghost tunnels for a rock?"

Roland gave him a look that silenced him—at least for a little while.

Meanwhile, Theodore's attention was totally elsewhere. He had been diligently attempting to circulate mana through muscle, bone, and sinew for weeks. The theory was simple: with enough repetition and control, the body would "learn" the pattern. Form a loop. Reinforce itself. Do it often enough, and the body would internalize the process, making it instinctual.

A skill.

It was extremely challenging to draw the thin, imperceptible boundary between skill and practice. With more concentration, he directed mana into his arms and down both legs, guiding it through each limb like a wire, coiling it into his center after that. It needed to be precisely shaped.

A spark flared in his chest.

It was a resonance, not pain.

Like a click behind his sternum.

Something settled.

Theodore stopped dead in his tracks and reached out a hand. They came to a stop. Theodore closed his eyes and sent a surge of mana into his body. There had been weeks of his toiling over this. Today, it clicked.

Congratulations! You have gained skill: [Mana Reinforcement]!

Satisfied, his eyes snapped open.

"We move. Quietly and quickly. We get the sample, and get out. That's it for today"

Roland gave a nod. Behind him, Ashton's less assured guards murmured.

"This really a good idea?"

"We should wait. Call for a full unit."

"You can wait if you want," Theodore said. "We're going in."

Nervously, the men glanced around, but when Theodore pressed deeper with his team, they trailed behind.

"Smells like rot," one guard muttered.

Theodore frowned. "Not rot. Digestive acids. Slime residue."

The foreman paled.

"That shouldn't be here. The slimes—"

"Were contained in the east. I know. That containment has clearly failed."

They came out onto a secondary junction, a larger chamber. Abandoned equipment lay everywhere. The body of a miner sagged against the wall, his clothes half-melted, his limbs twisted.

The guards gagged.

"What in all the hells…"

It was a standard slime kill.

A slithering, wet slosh emerged from a side tunnel.

"Back! Lord Theodore—"

The slime rushed into the room, its translucent bulk exposing a throbbing melon-sized core. It was massive, and yellow.

"Shit!" one of the Ashton's men shouted, fumbling his spear.

"That's a damn Rank 2! That's gotta be!"

Theodore almost rolled his eyes. This was far from the Rank 2 Slime King they were after. He took a step forward.

The slime attacked.

A tendril that was as thick as a man's arm and had caustic mucus at its tip swung out. It hit the closest guard square in the chest. With a meaty crack, he was flung backward into a support beam as his armor buckled and hissed.

The second guard stabbed forward. When his spear lodged in the creature's body, it was quickly digested.

"What do I do?! What do I do?!" he screamed.

With his mana burning, Theodore made a move. With both hands thrusting forward, he lowered himself into a stance, suckling moisture from the surrounding air and pushing it into a super-compressed needle held in a spinning vortex of compressed air.

A five-foot spear of water and air ignited from his hand. It screamed through the air before thunderclapping into the slime's membrane. It exploded inward and tore through the gelatinous slime.

With fluid spilling outward like a ruptured organ, the beast jerked back.

"By the gods," Steward breathed. "He… he stabbed it with wind?"

But it wasn't enough. The core was still intact.

Three tendrils whipped outward in various directions as the slime responded in kind. One shattered stone as it crashed against the floor close to Roland. Another struck the second guard in the face, causing his helmet to burn away. Before he could die, however, Theodore shot a javelin. It was a javelin with whirling air blades and a very thin layer of compressed water.

It whirled in the air and punctured the slime's core shell as it spun like a drill. The slime's core flickered inside.

The slime thrashed wildly. Tendrils sliced madly, splattering caustic goo everywhere and scratching the wall and ceiling. With a crackling of magical steel, Roland jumped in and slashed off a flailing pseudopod.

Theodore also constructed a revolving disc of compressed air that hovered like a sawblade and was layered with slicing water edges. It sped ahead, cutting a smoldering trench through the middle of the slime, cutting off connective mass and creating a boiling groove in the process.

Now the core was completely visible.

He shaped a final spear and hurled it directly into the core.

Light exploded from the slime's core as the impact detonated. The heart broke. It hit the stone floor and sank in a heap of slime, hissing as it did so.

Baron Ashton's men's jaws hung so low they could pop out of their sockets as they stared in awe.

For an instant, nothing happened. Then, in a flash, the entire slime structure lost its cohesiveness and crumbled. Yellow goo hissed and steamed across the room floor.

"This is why we came. Get your collection kits. We're taking samples."

There was no liquid left in the slime. Instead, it was solidifying. Expanding. Changing from a hazy yellow to a solid white, resembling a sort of... foam? No, it was porous but solid.

Theodore crouched next to a patch of the transformed substance. It was firm yet gave slightly when he poked it. Lightweight. And he could feel its exceptional insulating qualities when he took up a piece and broke it off from the greater mass. From what he could see through [Arcane Awareness], the warmth of his hand did not reach the opposite side.

"What's that?" Roland asked.

A slow smile spread across his face.

"This," he said, "is opportunity."

Roland arched his eyebrow.

Theodore brushed dust off his knees and stood.

"We need to collect samples. And," he added, grin widening, "I need to figure out how to start a yellow slime farm."

***

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