Zoran wrapped his thick wool scarf tighter, rubbed his numb hands hard, and breathed out a white mist into his palms.
“Damn weather…” The cold made the vampire from the frontier town mutter a complaint under his breath.
Snow fell silently on the streets of Slime City, and after a night of low temperatures, the smooth gray-white stone tiles were coated with a thin layer of ice.
Though walking on it was slick and one wrong step could send him sprawling and utterly ruin a vampire’s usual grace and composure, Zoran did not dare stop. He trudged on toward the Slime Palace ahead, which loomed ever more magnificent and solemn in the wind and snow.
A few slimes carrying warm stones held small wooden shovels and worked diligently to clear snow and ice from the palace steps and the square in front of the gates. Their round bodies trembled slightly in the cold air, but each movement was precise.
When they spotted Zoran passing by, they all stopped and peered at him with their glossy, round eyes, curious.
Occasionally encountering these slime residents made Zoran feel an indescribable, growing strangeness in his heart. He still kept his gentlemanly demeanor, bowing slightly and nodding in greeting.
If this had been earlier times, aside from a few special kinds naturally adapted to cold like Frost Slimes, ordinary slimes born in warm, damp swamps like these would never have survived to see winter.
The cold would freeze their gel, slow their movements, and they would quietly perish amid food shortages and frost. In all his years alive, he had never seen so many ordinary slimes still active and working in such cold—let alone building a city.
He found himself reaching up to touch the slime bronze pendant hanging at his throat, silently offering a prayer.
In truth, as a devout follower of the Great Slime Religion, daily prayers to the Slime God were part of his ritual life. They brought him peace of mind and a sense of belonging.
If it hadn’t been for the caravan headed to the Misty Bay Harbor Trade Alliance running into trouble, he might still be in the frontier town’s Slime Church doing morning worship with his fellow vampires, then sharing a small portion of consecrated gel to show the purity and devotion of their faith.
Thinking of the missing caravan cast a shadow over Zoran’s mood, but he secretly harbored hope that the omnipotent Slime Majesty could resolve this thorny issue.
He quickened his pace, reached the palace steps, and followed a Metal Slime guard around to the warm bedchamber at the rear.
At the door, he shook the snow off his hat and shoulders, straightened his collar and scarf that the wind had tousled, and only after ensuring his appearance was proper did he step respectfully into the warm hall.
Inside the palace, a roaring fire crackled in the hearth, occasionally sending bright sparks flying. The sparks landed on Little Ka and Peitian, who were lounged by the fire, making them lift their heads curiously to watch the flickering lights.
“Bla… Black Dragon?!”
Zoran’s eyes swept over Little Ka’s glossy black scales, which gleamed metallic in the firelight, and the broad wings folded at his sides, and his heart surged with turbulent shock.
He stifled the urge to exclaim and turned his gaze toward the corner of the room.
On the large oak desk, a plump slime was perched, scribbling with a quill over an unfurled parchment map, apparently marking things down.
Zoran hurried over, stopped before the desk, bowed deeply, and said with respectful tone, “Zoran pays respects to Your Majesty.”
Only then did Chen Yu stop writing. He hopped over, turned around, and with his round, glossy eyes looked at Zoran, asking directly, “You mean Casimir and that entire caravan to Misty Bay Harbor were all detained?”
At the mention of the matter, Zoran grew indignant as he recounted, “Yes, Your Majesty! Those shameless Greed-driven merchants from Chen Yu’s trade network have gone mad over gold. Without any proper cause, they brazenly seized the caravan’s cargo of precious Ancient Resin and the cash they were carrying, and they imprisoned Caron Zhiling.”
“Afterward, Casimir even replied saying the matter could be settled through negotiation, asking you not to worry… But by the time we reached the front, there was no word. You sent several groups of devotees disguised as traders to Misty Bay to spy and find Caron Zhiling. None have returned, not even a single message. Do you believe we were all imprisoned by Chen Yu?”
The trade alliance doubted it.
Elliot’s kingdom… perhaps they had just begun contact with Chen Yu at Misty Bay; there might be grudges between them. What were those merchants thinking?
“And what reason did we give?” the trade alliance continued to ask.
Zoran shook his head. “We said… we are devout vampire believers. We claimed you withdrew into Chen Yu’s territory with no ulterior motive, perhaps even to feed on blood.”
At the mention of that, his indignation grew, his voice trembling slightly: “Was that supposed to be respect for your pious Caron Zhiling disciples?!”
Chen Yu’s expression looked odd.
His words were not wrong.
To these vampires who had converted to the Great Slime Religion and took gel as sacrament, drinking blood had long become a thing of the past and would even be regarded as barbaric.
After all, with gel available, who would go for that bland, salty blood? It would be an insult to vampires.
Before Casimir led the caravan, Chen Yu had already provided those vampires with several months’ supply of gel.
Even without blood, vampires who refrained from frequently using vampire clan magic could last several months easily.
They would never behave so savagely and pointlessly—picking a fight with a massive commercial alliance and bringing trouble to themselves and their kingdom—for a little blood.
The Misty Bay merchants’ stated reasons clearly lacked credibility; they sounded like excuses meant to cover their true intentions.
But whether those Visaji merchants had the real aim of stealing goods and funds, or were acting on orders from another force,
the Misty Bay Alliance’s action was no longer merely a commercial dispute. It was a naked challenge to the Slime Kingdom’s sovereignty and dignity.
Letting things slide would not solve the problem; it would make the other side think the Slime Kingdom was weak and easy to bully, encouraging them to press further.
A heavy, brutal response was needed.
Make these gold-obsessed merchants learn firsthand what the wrath of slimes looks like.
Chen Yu’s gel body swelled slightly as he secreted a small gel clone, which lightly hopped and settled on Zoran’s shoulder, sitting steady.
“From now on, you, Zoran, are the Slime Kingdom’s special envoy. You represent the kingdom’s will and dignity.”
“Your Majesty… shall I go negotiate?” Zoran asked with reverence, without a trace of doubt, only unconditional trust. He believed any decision made by His Majesty would be right.
“Negotiation can come later. What we must do now is make those merchants ‘understand’ Slime language first.”
He concentrated a thought.
Little Ka, who had been dozing by the hearth, immediately stood. He walked over to Chen Yu, lowered his massive dragon head, and emitted a low, obedient rumble from his throat.
Although Little Ka’s invisible Dragon’s Aura made Zoran’s heart tremble and his legs go a bit weak, under Chen Yu’s gaze he still mustered courage, scrambling up onto Little Ka’s back with hands and feet, finding a relatively flat spot to sit and gripping the raised scales at the base of the dragon’s neck.
“Little Ka, let’s go.”
Little Ka let out an excited roar and strode out of the warm bedchamber.
Outside, the biting wind carried whipping snowflakes. Little Ka didn’t care. With a sudden, powerful flap of his huge black wings—
Boom!
A gale whipped up, sending the snow and ice crystals around the palace square flying, creating a mini blizzard.
In the next instant, his heavy body rose from the ground and shot into the leaden-gray clouded sky, racing southwest toward the fissure station. His silhouette quickly shrank in the snowstorm until it was a tiny black dot and then vanished.
At the same time in Slime City, at the Kingdom Knights’ training ground.
The wind howled; frost dressed the surrounding trees in thin white coats, and the distant lake had formed a thin sheet of ice.
Galvin stood tall like a spear on the high platform at the center of the training ground.
He wore the black uniform of a Kingdom Knights instructor, overlaid with a thick fur cloak, yet none of that diminished the cold aura he radiated.
He had just received the urgent muster order transmitted through the Gel Network from His Majesty.
Without hesitation, Galvin turned and faced the knights below who were engaged in group combat training. His voice was cold and clear, cutting through the wind:
“All knights halt training immediately. Arm up and assemble. I give you one minute.”
“Yes, Instructor!”
No one questioned or hesitated. There was only absolute obedience and discipline.
This was the first true draconian knight regiment Galvin had forged for the Slime Kingdom over two months of near-cruel Spartan training.
The once-transformed Lizardfolk knights halted their drills and, by conditioned reflex, ran expertly toward the camp area.
They quickly returned to the barracks, donned their specially made draconian light armor, grabbed the metal spears from the racks, and mustered.
Under the influence of the Dragon Bloodline, these Lizardfolk—formerly slight in stature—underwent a drastic atavistic change.
They became extremely robust and tall, averaging nearly two meters, muscles bulging with explosive power.
Their scales shifted from deep green to a hardened yellow-brown, like cooled lava, even showing a faint metallic sheen on the edges.
Interestingly, perhaps due to the residual effects of the Beast Dementia Technique Chen Yu once applied, most retained obvious juvenile features: glossy round eyes and soft rounded body lines.
If one ignored their increased size and muscle, they still looked much like their previous, simple selves.
They had all passed the harsh Knight Trial and stabilized at Silver rank—a level considered elite even among regular human kingdom knight orders, capable of commanding a mid-sized knight squad.
Now they would appear as a full legion.
Among them, Salamander had risen spectacularly in strength and stood out with exceptional combat instincts and skills, able to easily defeat fellow Silver-ranked companions.
Even Anna found him somewhat difficult to counter during training.
In Chen Yu’s words, this guy had heroic qualities and was something of an elite monster.
“Yuyu what…”
Just as Salamander and the others returned to assemble before Galvin, a dense, low buzzing sounded over the training ground.
Anna, standing beside Galvin, looked up.
Dozens of massive black shapes like a moving cloud quickly blocked the sky above the ground.
They descended slowly until their forms were clear—huge, bull-sized, menacing hornets.
But unlike ordinary hornets, their bodies were covered in glossy black scales; their formerly slender limbs had thickened into powerful segments ending in hooked claws, and their mouths had grown vicious fangs.
These were the kingdom’s painstakingly bred new units: Venom Bee Wyverns. They served both as powerful aerial combat units and as the exclusive mounts for the kingdom’s draconian knights.
The Venom Bee Wyverns touched down on the training ground, their heavy bodies causing the earth to tremble slightly.
“Move!” Galvin barked without hesitation.
He and Anna were first to act, leaping onto the saddles of two wyverns.
Below, Salamander and dozens of Lizardfolk knights swiftly mounted their assigned beasts.
All the knights were in position.
“Depart!”
At Galvin’s command, dozens of Venom Bee Wyverns spread their membrane wings to more than ten meters and began a rapid vibration.
Gales roared up, whipping the snow from the ground into a white haze.
The Venom Bee Wyverns skimmed low, then collectively lifted their heads and shot like black arrows into the sky.
They quickly adjusted formation and took a wedge formation, following the vanished black dragon into the distance as they sped toward the fissure station.
Soon they, too, disappeared into the leaden-gray clouds above the Swamp Forest.
..
Fissure Tundra, Winterhold.
The wind cut the frozen soil like knives. The distant lights of the city flickered through the driving snow.
On the roof of the Adventurers’ Guild, statues that had been covered in snow suddenly shifted and opened their crimson eyes, their gazes focusing on the balcony three floors up where warm light spilled from the guild.
The balcony door pushed open from the inside and a tall, upright silhouette stepped out.
Just inside that door it was as warm as spring—the hearth flame cavorted—while outside the cold wind bit at the skin.
A woman with flaxen long hair stood inside the doorway, hands clenched at her chest, worry filling her eyes, clearly wanting to step out and embrace him.
“My love—”
Yano turned and waved to stop her from coming out. He drew in the piercingly cold air and gave a warm, reassuring smile.
“Lola, take care of the children and make sure they don’t forget their homework. I’ll be back to check.”
At that, Lola felt some of her anxiety ease. She nodded. “Come back early. I’ve prepared dinner for you.”
Yano chuckled, “I’m just going to teach some arrogant fools a lesson.”
After saying that, he didn’t hesitate. He faced the dark, wind-swept expanse of the tundra. His figure was soon enveloped by the shapes of rising beasts.
In the next moment, Yano and the strongest gargoyles unfurled their wings and slapped them hard.
They rose into the sky, leaving the lighted Winterhold city behind.
At the same time, gargoyles on guild roofs, on the battlements, even near the distant crystal ball castle… countless gargoyles opened their crimson eyes.
The beating of wings blended into a continuous roar as over two hundred gargoyles, following their king, left the tundra and flew toward the fissure that led to the kingdom’s southeastern border.
The slimes watched this spectacular scene through the warm glass windows. Though they did not know the details, they understood that clearly an enemy of the kingdom was being confronted.
.
Misty Bay Harbor Trade Alliance western border, Gold Lionheart Fortress.
At this important gateway and toll checkpoint toward the western regions, a banner embroidered with golden scales and crossed curved blades fluttered in the wind.
Outside the weather was foul with rain mixed with snow.
Cold sleet struck the walls and towers with a crackling sound, the distant forest outlines blurred by the storm.
Inside the fortress, in an office where nautical charts and trade route maps hung on the wall,
a hearth fire burned and drove off the cold.
Torres shifted his gaze from the windows’ dark tree silhouettes and propped his feet up, speaking leisurely, “Elliot, clamp the tolls on those dwarves from the south. Don’t be stingy.”
The man wore a leather coat with silver anchor-and-coin insignia on the epaulets, marking him as a legion commander.
He was Torres Ironfist Marco, commander of Gold Lionheart Fortress, from a maritime merchant family of the alliance, worshipper of the sea goddess Ethera and the war god Usca—a typical trade alliance professional soldier.
His aide and scribe, Elliot Ferguson, nodded repeatedly and hurriedly recorded his words.
At that moment someone knocked at the door.
“Enter,” Torres replied without lifting his head, his tone casual.
The door opened and a soldier in the trade alliance’s chainmail and a waterproof cloak hurried inside, holding a letter sealed with wax.
“Commander, urgent dispatch just arrived… it’s… from those vampires.”
Torres raised an eyebrow, took the letter, slipped his knife into the wax, drew out the paper, and skimmed it.
Elliot pushed his spectacles up his nose and leaned closer to read. The elegant script on the paper used the Common Tongue and said roughly: In the name of the Slime Kingdom’s special envoy, we formally protest the Misty Bay Harbor Trade Alliance’s unwarranted detention of the kingdom’s caravan, the imprisonment of envoy Casimir and accompanying personnel, and the plundering of goods. We demand immediate and unconditional release of all detained persons, return of goods and funds, and formal apology and compensation. Otherwise, the Slime Kingdom reserves the right to take all necessary measures to safeguard its rights.
Signed: Zoran, Slime Kingdom Special Envoy.
Torres showed no expression after reading. He lazily handed the letter to Elliot, then sipped some now-warm black coffee from the table.
“Those vampires again. This time they’ve cloaked it under the name ‘Slime Kingdom.’”
Elliot read the letter more carefully, his brow knitting a little, but he did not seem overly alarmed.
He set the paper on the tea table, wiped his spectacles with a handkerchief, and adjusted them.
“Commander, the tone is much firmer than those previous letters,” Elliot said cautiously.
“And the term ‘Slime Kingdom’ has been cropping up more and more in tavern chatter along returning trade routes. They say there is indeed a slime-led force in the north that even captured… the Storm Fortress.”
“Hmm…”
Torres leaned back in his chair, hands folded over his belly, speaking leisurely, “A kingdom of slimes? Elliot, do you really believe those sailor and mercenary yarns in the taverns?”
“They’re just a bunch of sticky low-level monsters. As for capturing the Storm Fortress, I suspect Princess Louisa—‘Iron Rose’—is responsible.”
“Such strange rumors appear every year. They’re not worth paying attention to.”
His tone was filled with deep contempt for slimes as inherently weak, harmless low-tier monsters—at most alchemy material or troublesome roadblock in the minds of him and most in the trade alliance.
As for those vampires… they surprised him a bit. These vampires from the Dark Realm had become odd lately.
They didn’t seem to crave blood much anymore. Instead they fiddled with strange gel and proselytized about religion, acting all mysterious.
Elliot nodded in agreement and then asked, “Commander, how shall we deal with those vampires? You know Old Bartley from the Blackwater Guild hates them enough to gnash his teeth.”
He referred to last year when the Blackwater Guild’s convoy formed a private expedition into the Dark Realm to ‘pan for gold’ and ran into a vampire patrol, fleeing in terror and losing many valuable ancient artifacts.
Torres said casually, “Then do Old Bartley a favor and give those restless neighbors a hard lesson.”
“As for whether they feed on blood—that’s not the point. What matters is they offended the Blackwater Guild, and the tolls and protection fees the guild pays this fortress each year are not trivial.”
“And this envoy’s warning?” Elliot pointed to the letter on the tea table.
“A warning?”
Torres chuckled, rose, walked to the window, and looked out at the stormy sky.
“Have them wait outside and tell them I’m too busy to meet any vampire envoy. If they want to wait, let them camp in the outer quarters. If not, be my guest.”
Elliot nodded, taking it casually and turned to leave.
But they did not know that outside the fortress, a storm was being brewed.