Requiem 8

‘And now?’ Apexus wondered, once he had filled up on leaves. The new form had one drawback he had discovered, namely that melting his fingers together was practically impossible. That was something he had only done for the ease of walking on four limbs, however, and was not even necessary for that. Walking on a clenched fist was, while less comfortable, just as possible.

He walked around, testing and thinking. There seemed to be no improvements or degradation of his movement from this change, save the one brought by being slimmer. For all intents and purposes, he was now at the height of his strength. Was it already time to assault the Church? ‘Is there anything else,’ Apexus wondered, ‘that I can eat to get stronger?’

His head passed through something invisible, a flash of light accompanying the penetration of the invisible barrier, as the slimes desire for something wove into the spell hiding a small house in the forest. At the sight of the metal fence, animalistic instincts immediately kicked in. Between fight, flight or freeze, Apexus subconscious chose the last option, as his blue eyes spotted the old man in the brown robe.

Who stared back just as frozen. “Apexus…?” Gizmo’s voice was trembling as he slowly rose from the stump the slime used to sit on and stumbled towards the fence. “Is that you? You… you’re… you’re alive!” his hands hit the invisible barrier, which flared up with green fire, connected to the spikes of the fence through lines of magic. “I met…” suddenly, he shut up, his open mouth snapped close as if clenched by an invisible force. “…A member of the church came here to taunt me over your death,” he continued, now calm despite the tears rolling down his face.

The slime wasn’t clear on how to react. There were no red eyes, filled with monstrous greed for the lifeforce of others, that had burned themselves into Apexus’ memory like a fire into a growing tree. “Is it really you, Gizmo?” the slime asked.

“You can talk!” the old man exclaimed, so happy about this. “You sound well but…” Blinking away the tears, the slime’s former mentor more closely examined the chimeric creature’s appearance. “Apexus, how many have you killed?”

“Just one,” the slime said, walking slowly up the fence and sitting down more than a hand’s reach away even from the barrier, from which Gizmo now took a forceful step back. “One too many…” Apexus added, regretfully, “…but I had no choice, it was either to do it or die.”

“I see,” Gizmo sat down in the grass opposite of Apexus, the two of them silent for a long time, hanging their heads in shame. For what they had done and for what they were powerless to change. The old man attempted to speak several times, each time his open mouth produced no words. Tears welled up again, although Apexus was unable to discern why. Finally, he pressed something out. “The man… the monster that you ran from, Apotho… Apexus, he is the original inhabitant of this body. I am just a crack in his psyche, born from trauma. Every day I am fading more and the change is only accelerating. Even now he…” an odd pause, but Apexus didn’t think too much of it, “…is taking back control.”

Apexus was unnerved knowing that, but had no idea what to do with that information. “Can I help?”

“No,” the answer was immediate and harsh. “Don’t cross this fence. I might absorb your lifeforce.” The old man swallowed his tears and asked. “What brings you to me, Apexus? What reason do you have to return to me?”

“I am… I’m trying to become stronger,” the slime responded and then quickly reported what had happened since he had last seen the old man. He nodded along, listening eagerly, commenting with a headshake towards the actions of the Inquisition, how illogical they acted, and voiced surprise that a Hunter of this level was on the leaf.

“I am able to help you,” Gizmo said, after having heard everything. “Listen, there are two things you must know. Under the mountain to the east, they imprisoned a demon that Apotho summoned once upon a time. It lives in one of the many caves underneath. Killing it might allow you to grow a little more.”

Apexus listened carefully to that. It sounded almost too good to be true. A worthwhile opponent as far away from the city was possible. Presumably well-hidden, nevertheless exactly what the slime needed. “Is he bad because he is a demon?” the slime nevertheless had to ask, not wanting to kill anymore sapient things if he could avoid it.

“He is practically an animal,” Gizmo assured with a nod. “Capable of little more speech than the Archwood Maggots you encountered. He also killed more than a few people himself.” The old man’s voice again hardened, but in a different, resolute way than the hardness from before, “He is being tolerated because contact with an Impreh level demon is essential for the early training of Warlocks. Killing him will give less people the chance to even attempt their hand at this best forgotten Class. Just look out for his hide, he is a Skinwalker type.”

Apexus had barely any idea what that meant. Before he could ask, however, Gizmo suddenly reached to his head, groaning in pain. Nervously, Apexus stumbled over his words. “Happening what is you okay? Need tea?”

“He is… just being a pain…” the smooth-voiced Warlock growled. “Listen, the second thing. In a week’s time, the Day of the First Ascension will be held. A person with a three-coloured robe will attend, for just a few minutes, between city and church, when the sun is about to set. Approach him, mention my name if you must to keep his attention, and he will lead you to Aclysia, you understand? Only on that day and only at that time can you ask him. It’s a human tradition.”

Apexus found that incredibly odd, but between the building of streets, their nonsensical language structures, their love for squares and bloated communication systems, it wasn’t surprising for the slime to hear about some odd rule that you could only approach people in three-coloured robes at certain times and then they had to oblige.

“Now go!” the ancient sorcerer suddenly shouted. “Don’t come back here! I can’t hold him back much longer!”

Apexus was once more confused, wasn’t he secure on the other side of this fence? Why would that matter? ‘Gizmo sounds very urgent, I should listen,’ the slime, however, trusted his old mentor enough to follow his words, despite his doubts, especially after he had just been told of another way to become stronger in the waiting time. Even if that strength might not matter.

“Thank you,” Apexus said as he quickly turned around. Walking through the barrier, he found himself back where he had been, close to the river, an endless distance away from the real location of the barrier. As such, the slime had no hope of hearing the mixture of sobbing and laughter the old Warlock let out.

“Blessed be the liar who stumbles upon the naïve, for his manipulation still holds weight before they learn,” Apotho mused to himself.