The Dark Realm, the Evernight Domain.
In this inner land forever shrouded in gloom, the most prominent symbol was the ancient castle silently perched on the cliff.
It was gloomy, quiet, and had a certain artistic atmosphere… the perfect residence for the “uncrowned kings” of the Dark Realm, the vampire clan.
Surrounding it lay a vast, desolate cemetery. Weathered tombstones leaned this way and that, dead tree branches twisted upward like despairing arms reaching for the gray sky.
Occasional black crows landed on the bare branches and let out hoarse, unpleasant caws, their blood-red eyes coldly sweeping across the lifeless ground.
On the cemetery path leading to the castle, a black carriage drawn by four pale, gaunt horses rolled along at an unhurried pace.
The pale-skinned coachman drove with hollow eyes. A lantern hanging from one side of the carriage cabin swung with the bumps, its dim yellow light flickering in the deepening dusk like a wavering ghost-fire, stretching and then shortening the twisted tree shadows along the road.
At that moment, a gloved hand in black leather pushed open the carriage window, and a well-dressed, handsome nobleman rested his hand on the sill.
He lazily scanned the view outside, his tone laced with boredom: “How long has it been? The atmosphere here is still as rotten and stifling as ever, utterly unoriginal.”
The vampire lord called Casimir shrugged with humor. “Oh, I like your retro tone, dear Dunlan. At least those little rats knew how to struggle—they had some vigor. Here…”
He sniffed. “Sleeping or awake, most of them are just moving corpses.”
“If it weren’t for Lord Salacha’s orders, I might be enjoying an interesting mercenary life right now, scheming with the goblins at Riftrock Pass, bullying those armless, legless skeletons in the ancient ruins, or… joining the commotion around that A-rank bounty that’s been all the talk lately.”
Salacha—the mage rumored to be backing the vampire revival and secretly controlling the Dark Realm—was the most mysterious and feared presence in these lands.
Dunlan, who sat opposite him in a dark mage’s robe with his hands on a velvet backrest, chuckled: “The teacher has been pouring effort into solving the final bottleneck for mass-producing those Bloody Scrolls, costing countless materials.”
“If the castle’s defenses are hollow and those rude Stone Descendants seize the chance to raid the core warehouse, the loss would be incalculable.”
“As for that A-rank bounty you mentioned…”
He paused, his tone neutral. “There are indeed oddities. The Blacktooth mercenary company hasn’t taken on an open bounty of that grade in a long time, and it was issued by the goblins themselves.”
“But the commander leading them is Galvin Douglas, a true knight.”
“Trust me, Casimir, you won’t enjoy being around him. That guy isn’t as stiff as some knights, but pride is stamped into his blood. He looks down on those of us who lurk in the shadows.”
Casimir scoffed and spread his hands. “Alright, alright, you’re right. That fellow’s strength is terrifying;
even as an elite professional, I wouldn’t want to provoke him.”
Then his curiosity returned. “Don’t you think that swamp is odd? The goblin army personally issuing a bounty—maybe this expedition didn’t go smoothly.”
Dunlan was indifferent, seemingly unconcerned. “Isn’t that the rational conclusion? A formation company led by elite professionals and equipped with plenty of scrolls has combat power comparable to a small royal army.”
“Eradicating that magical creature force can’t fail;
the only question is the cost.”
Casimir was about to say more when movement in the dead trees beside the path caught his eye.
Several blood thralls were furiously digging a deep pit. At the pit’s edge sat a heavy stone coffin.
“Stop.” Casimir called, and the carriage gradually halted.
He stared through the window at the trembling blood thralls kneeling in panic, then fixed his gaze on the stone coffin. His voice took on an imperious tone: “Whose vassals are you?”
The blood thralls quivered and stuttered, “M-My lord… we are Lord Vladimir’s vassals…”
“Vladimir?”
Casimir frowned. “That fellow didn’t stay in the castle on guard duty and instead came to ‘rest’ in a place like this? And had my lord specifically summon me back…”
Before he finished speaking, he noticed a gray-white patch of skin peeking through a crack in the coffin—skin that looked indistinguishable from stone.
His eyes narrowed. He flung open the carriage door and strode forward.
Dunlan sensed the change and followed.
Casimir waved an arm and a blood shadow lifted the heavy lid from the stone coffin.
Contrary to his expectations, the coffin contained what was essentially a humanoid statue whose body had mostly turned into gray-white stone.
He could still make out mercenary clothing. One arm was completely broken off and missing;
the face retained a look of extreme terror.
“Petrified?!”
Casimir’s expression darkened. “Wasn’t the latest antidote for that prepared? Why wasn’t it used?”
Dunlan bent closer to inspect and shook his head. “From the looks of it, there was no time to use it.”
“That idiot must have gone digging in the ruins of Gore again for Stone Descendants, been spotted by gargoyles, and by the time they were discovered and dragged out, the antidote’s active window had already passed.”
Casimir’s gaze turned thoughtful and satirical. “I told you his head contains nothing but sleep and expired blood vials.”
“He dares to go where even my father wouldn’t tread. This time he learned his lesson—though the price is rather steep.”
He crouched and ran his finger along a break in the statue’s chest. The petrified clothing was ripped irregularly.
“This wound doesn’t look like gargoyle claws did it. It looks more like the result of an explosion from a highly potent shaping magic.”
“Maybe a gargoyle’s special ability ambushed him, or he triggered some ancient trap.” Dunlan did not seem very concerned.
“All right, Sir Casimir, the teacher is waiting for us at the castle. Don’t let one reckless fool delay—”
Before he could finish, a pitch-black crow made of shadow and faint magic silently flew through the dead trees and precisely toward Dunlan. With a soft ‘pfft,’ it condensed into a scroll that radiated a faint magical pulse and landed in his hand.
“An urgent message from Lord Salacha?” Casimir raised an eyebrow.
Dunlan nodded and quickly opened the scroll. After ten seconds, he looked up with a strange expression.
“Sir Casimir, I have news that might be either good or bad for you.” Dunlan’s voice carried an odd tone.
“Oh?” Casimir prompted with interest.
“The mercenaries who went to the Eastern Swamp to hunt that A-rank bounty… returned, but as a routed force.”
“The mission was a complete failure. Galvin Douglas was defeated and captured by the undead lord of that magical creature force.”
“What?!”
Casimir’s face immediately turned serious. “Even Galvin was defeated and captured? That’s not the level expected for a mere A-rank bounty.”
“Of course not. That force includes a subdrake unit and an undead knight whose power approaches the superhuman,” Dunlan waved the scroll.
“The teacher already learned the news and personally upgraded their bounty to S-rank, the same level as hunting dangerous planar rifts.”
“The problem now is whether the goblins who issued the mission will pay S-rank bounty money in advance. This failure cost the mercenary company a lot of gear, scrolls, and pensions—the losses likely exceed a thousand gold coins. That tab will have to be covered by the goblins.”
Casimir suddenly realized and his expression shifted. “Wait… Lord Salacha isn’t planning to have me clean up this mess and lead the team to slay the S-rank target, is he?”
“Ahem… I suddenly feel unwell and need to return to my coffin to rest for a few months.” He pretended to flee.
Dunlan shook his head. “It’s not slaying. The teacher’s order is to placate.”
“Placate?” Casimir stopped and stroked his chin, thoughtful.
“Yes.”
Dunlan explained: “That force occupies the Eastern Swamp and doesn’t directly border our core area;
it’s closer to the White Horse Kingdom border and the goblin army’s territory.”
“The mercenary company’s main force is currently tied up by several newly appearing planar rifts and cannot spare enough power for a risky S-rank assault.”
He paused, a glint in his eyes. “More importantly, the teacher believes that if handled properly, this emerging magical creature force might be brought into our sphere of influence—or at least establish some form of contact.”
“That way, when we clash with the goblin army in the future, they could cause considerable trouble for those green-skin scum from the flank at critical moments.”
“Don’t forget who stands behind the goblins—the big greedy demon.”
“These abyssal creatures don’t care about true allegiance. If not for the buffer of ancient ruins, the greedy goblin army would have long invaded the Dark Realm to pillage resources.”
Dunlan looked at him with a meaningful smile. “Sir Casimir, the teacher specifically praised your personal charm and negotiation skills.”
“He believes that initial contact with those unknown-intellect yet formidable creatures must be made in person by you.”
Casimir listened with a complex mix of reluctance and curiosity and finally shrugged. “All right, all right. If Lord Salacha orders it… it’s just a little trip anyway. Besides, I’m curious to see the undead lord who beat and captured that arrogant Galvin.”
“Hopefully they’ll satisfy my curiosity.”
…
Swamp Fortress.
Unaware that the vampire envoy would soon visit, Chen Yu was preparing to head to the Western Swamp.
He lightly leaped down from the wall. His gel body traced a graceful arc in the morning breeze, spread wings, and flew straight toward the Western Swamp, passing by the booming Slime Village.
Below, the village was bustling. The slime engineering teams preparing to go to the front and establish outposts were busy like industrious ants. With the help of Beetle engineers, they loaded packed tools, stored nutrient water, and Gray Gravel Crystals onto carts.
They were heading to Gray Mist Lake and the Western Swamp to build defensive lines and new fortress outposts.
Indeed, in Chen Yu’s plan, these were not to be scattered small outposts but fully functional forward fortresses.
Three of them in total.
They would likely rival or surpass the size of the current fortress—grand and imposing.
After the preliminary work of the third phase was complete, he intended to drive the adventurers from the Outpost Ruins and the Goblin Army from Riftrock Pass out of the territory entirely and establish a true monster kingdom.
Watching the moving teams below like ants, Chen Yu mapped things out in his mind.
The first fortress he planned to build on the original site of the outpost where Arthur had stayed. That spot was well-positioned at the throat of the Gray Mist Lake road.
Expand it into a sturdy fortress, equip it with Battery Arrays and swarms of troops, and it could nail itself like a stake at the dungeon entrance to block adventurers from penetrating deeper.
The Western Swamp was vast and difficult to guard—at least two fortresses were needed.
One in the southeast facing Riftrock Pass;
it must be tall and solid, with thick walls and many Battery Arrays to remove the goblins’ idea of re-invading the swamp.
The other in the southwest, close to the Dryad domain, ostensibly to protect supply routes and shelter allies.
He admitted a personal motive: if the Dryads later chose to fully join the Kingdom, this fortress could be expanded to swallow the Dryad domain and become a prosperous border town, securing valuable agricultural land.
Then his territory could be self-sufficient in food and perhaps attract profit-seeking human trade caravans to exchange swamp specialties for what the Kingdom needed.
Once the three fortresses were built and linked, most of the dungeon would be integrated into the Slime Kingdom’s map.
He could then explore the dungeon’s true depth, map out all the Western Swamp’s resources and secrets…
And launch the late-stage work of the third phase to build a true city.
A Slime capital belonging to slimes and other magical creatures.
Thinking of this, he flew higher, overlooking the vast, vibrant swamp forest below as morning light gilded his round body.
That ambition burned like fire in his heart, filling his small body with strength.
In a good mood, he adjusted his direction and sped toward the Western Swamp.
He wanted to investigate that planar rift, but one slime alone wouldn’t be enough—he needed help.
Half a day later, when he reached the outskirts of the Dryad domain, he saw Little Ka and Peachy diligently carrying out their defensive duties.
Little Ka hovered low, scanning the treetop air. Peachy patrolled the territory’s edge like a mobile little fortress, snorting as she went.
When Chen Yu landed, the two immediately became excited.
Little Ka let out a cheerful call and circled him, lowering altitude, while Peachy charged over, even trying to lick him with a drooling, enormous tongue.
Luckily Chen Yu dodged, or he would have received a soaking.
After explaining his intent to Eserin, this ageless elf took the appearance of the planar rift seriously.
“A planar rift?”
A slightly lazy voice suddenly sounded. Viola’s chief spirit shimmered like a startled firefly as it detached from Eserin, floating in midair with keen interest.
“Count me in. I want to see it too.”
“You can’t leave the domain, can you?” Chen Yu asked.
“Who said I can’t?” Viola’s spirit winked.
“With a simple soul-projection spell, part of my consciousness and knowledge can temporarily lodge in Eserin and follow you.”
“I won’t have much power, but as an adviser I’ll be more than enough… Ah, can’t say more—energy drains too fast. If I’m not there yet, my projection can’t hold.”
She hadn’t finished speaking before the spirit flashed back into Eserin’s body as if she’d never left.
With Viola’s agreement, Eserin arranged for other Dryads to continue the defense while she and Chen Yu set out for the location Count Bran had described.
Chen Yu rode Little Ka scouting ahead, while Eserin sat gracefully astride Peachy’s broad, sturdy back.
Soon Peachy showcased surprising pathbreaking ability. She didn’t need existing trails;
she lowered her head and used her massive body and sharp tusks to bulldoze a wide path through thick shrubs and low trees.
Before long, the scenery changed.
Sparkling ice crystals refracted sunlight among the trees, and the air temperature noticeably dropped. Chen Yu sneezed, and the bubbles he exhaled immediately turned to mist.
They had entered a strange, snow-covered area that contrasted starkly with the lush swamp forest around it.
“Is this the rift’s effect?” Chen Yu asked curiously. It was his first time seeing a planar rift phenomenon.
“No, this is just ice-elemental mana leaking from the rift, altering the local environment,” Eserin, wearing a gel hair ornament, explained.
She watched their surroundings warily. “The real rift is closer to the center. Judging by the affected area, this rift’s scale shouldn’t be too large.”
“It likely connects to a quasi-elemental plane with mixed elements. Slime Your Grace, be careful—creatures from the rift might have escaped.”
Little Ka grew more alert after her warning.
This little croc had seen some things and was no longer as frightened as before, but his cautious nature remained.
Chen Yu and Eserin pressed on. Apart from the endless white snow and biting cold, they found no living things. The silence was oddly eerie.
They reached the planar rift.
Chen Yu landed and inspected it.
It was far smaller than he imagined—only about a person high—like space itself had been roughly torn open by some violent force.
Beyond the tear was a blinding white expanse;
no details could be seen, only a relentless rush of extreme cold spilling out.
Eserin explained: “In summer, the ambient mana tides in the prime material plane become active. Chaotic regions like swamps, where mana is already unstable, are prone to producing temporary rifts to elemental planes.”
“In extremely unstable cases, they can briefly connect to outer planes like abyssal hells…”
Chen Yu stared at the tear, curiosity burning about the unknown world on the other side.
Eserin likely read his thoughts and warned gravely: “Elemental planes are wildly chaotic. Sometimes there is no solid ground to stand on. Elemental maelstroms can easily tear apart most prime-plane creatures’ flesh.”
“It’s fine. We can send a scout first.” Chen Yu transmitted his idea telepathically.
“A scout?” Eserin blinked.
She then watched as Chen Yu secreted a pale-red slime that carried Flame Affinity and Pea Shot talent.
The little slime landed with a plop and, with the boldness of a warrior, dove into the snow-white, billowing chill of the rift.
Boom!!!
When Chen Yu crossed the rift, he felt as if he had entered a roaring wind that erased all sound. Then an unimaginable, piercing cold enveloped him in an instant.
His body nearly froze solid, becoming like a hard little ice ball, tumbling onto the solid land.
He had one good and one bad piece of news.
Good news: there was indeed solid ground, and although the consciousness link was faint, it remained unbroken.
Bad news:
This place is freaking cold!!!
He hurriedly activated the faint mana inside him and triggered Flame Affinity. Warmth slowly emanated through his gel body, countering the extreme cold outside.
After a long while, he barely recovered mobility and hopped about, curiously examining the pure-white world.
As far as he could see was endless white and black sky;
blizzards howled without end, compressing his sight to a very short range.
It was so desolate it felt suffocating. No hills, no life signs, not even a dead tree or a rock.
So barren?
A wave of disappointment rose in him.
Strange—Count Bran had said there were monster activities here.
Had they all left?
Or… had something happened inside?
He decided to explore deeper.
As for direction… he hopped and peered around until at the limit of the snow-blurred visibility he faintly detected a tiny white glimmer.
There. He chose it.
Chen Yu bounced toward the light.
The snow was thick;
each jump sank deeply. For a small slime, the journey was arduous.
One meter, ten meters, a hundred meters… the distance slowly closed.
The white dot in his perception grew clearer and larger.
When he finally reached a range where he could observe properly, he saw the outline distinctly.
It looked like… a kneeling humanoid with a long, scaled body and a tail lying limply on the snow.
Huh?
Chen Yu froze.
Lizardfolk here too?
Could it be that the lizardfolk ancestors were explorers who went where danger called—touring the prime plane and then checking out elemental planes?
Wait, something was off.
This one looked silly.
For a lizardman like this, there was only one fellow he could think of.