Monster

The forest floor turned into a blur beneath my slime-propelled dash. My body ached with exertion, but the primal urge to survive overshadowed the pain. Ahead, I spotted a faint sliver of moonlight filtering through the dense canopy – a possible clearing. With a final burst of speed, I surged towards it, praying it would offer an escape route.

Bursting out of the treeline, I found myself on the precipice of a steep ravine. The moon cast an eerie glow on the jagged rocks and churning river far below. Panic clawed at my throat, but there was no turning back. The sounds of the French patrol were growing closer, their voices laced with urgency.

Taking a deep breath, I focused the power of the slime. My body contorted with unnatural flexibility, stretching and coiling as I squeezed through a narrow crevice in the rock face. The rough stone scraped against my uniform, but I ignored the pain. This was a tight squeeze, even for my slime-enhanced form.

Once through, I found myself clinging precariously to a ledge overlooking the raging river. The roar of the water filled my ears, masking the sounds of the approaching French. Relief washed over me, a temporary reprieve. But for how long?

From my vantage point, I could see the French patrol emerge from the treeline, searching the area where I had disappeared. Frustration gnawed at me. I had led them away from my squad, but I was trapped here, alone and vulnerable.

As I debated my next move, a glint of moonlight caught my eye – a thin, precarious rope bridge spanning the ravine further downstream. It looked old and rickety, barely able to support its own weight. But it was my only chance.

With a silent curse, I focused the slime once more. This time, I concentrated on strengthening my grip, anchoring myself to the rocky ledge. Taking a deep breath, I launched myself towards the bridge, swinging across the churning river with a reckless abandon born of desperation.

The rickety bridge groaned in protest as I hurtled towards it. The wind whipped past my face, carrying the chilling spray of the river below. For a terrifying moment, I dangled precariously in mid-air, the chasm threatening to swallow me whole. But the slime, ever responsive to my will, pulsed with renewed strength, anchoring my fingers to the frayed ropes.

With a grunt, I hauled myself onto the bridge, the uneven planks swaying precariously beneath my weight. Each step was an act of faith, the river a constant reminder of the consequences of a misstep. The sounds of the French patrol grew fainter behind me, replaced by the rhythmic creak of the bridge and the roar of the water.

Halfway across, a section of rotten wood gave way beneath my foot. I yelped, the bridge lurching violently as I dangled precariously, one hand desperately clinging to a frayed rope. Panic threatened to consume me, but I forced it down. This wasn't the time to succumb to fear.

Focusing on the slime once more, I visualized tendrils of green energy wrapping around the remaining ropes, reinforcing their integrity. With a surge of adrenaline, I pulled myself back onto the bridge, heart hammering against my ribs. The remaining distance seemed to stretch on forever, each creak of the bridge a potential death knell.

Finally, after an eternity, I scrambled onto the other side, collapsing onto the damp earth in a heap. My entire body trembled, a mixture of exhaustion and relief coursing through me. I had cheated death once again, the power of the slime proving its worth.

Taking a moment to catch my breath, I strained to listen. The sounds of the French patrol had vanished entirely. Had they given up the chase, or were they simply circling back? I didn't wait to find out.

With a renewed sense of urgency, I plunged back into the woods, the darkness a welcome shroud. I needed to find a way back to my squad, to ensure their survival. The night was far from over, and the dangers of the forest were far from the only enemy I had to contend with. The secret of the slime was a burden, but tonight, it was also my shield, my only hope of leading my men to safety.

The rhythmic thwack of my boots against tree branches felt strangely exhilarating. With each jump, I felt like a true shinobi, a phantom flitting through the canopy. But my playful mood evaporated as I spotted a patrol of eight French soldiers below. Their tense expressions and hurried movements told me they were searching for something – probably my comrades.

I stalked them for a few minutes, analyzing their formation. My gaze darted between them, searching for the leader. A gruff, barking officer barking orders at the others – him. With a silent decision made, I launched myself from the branch.

The leader barely had time to register the blur before I was upon him. A knee to the chest sent him sprawling, and with a practiced flick of my wrist, a shimmering blade materialized from my arm. Steel met flesh in a wet whisper, and the leader crumpled, his eyes wide with surprise.

The remaining soldiers spun, their faces contorted in a mixture of fear and fury. Rifles were raised, muzzles aimed at the green and black blur that was me. But before they could pull the trigger, the ground erupted beneath them. Spikes, formed from my own bio-matter, surged up like macabre lilies, piercing their hearts in a silent ballet of death.

The metallic tang of blood filled the air, a grim counterpoint to the chirping of unseen birds.

"That was…" A voice, rough and gravelly, broke the silence. I whirled around, hand instinctively darting to my phantom blade.

Emerging from behind a thick trunk was a man. Unlike the soldiers, he wore no uniform, but his weathered face and the glint of a well-worn dagger at his hip spoke volumes of his experience. He wasn't military, but he was definitely trouble.

The metallic tang of blood filled the air, a grim counterpoint to the chirping of unseen birds.

"That was..." A voice, rough and gravelly, broke the silence. I whirled around, hand instinctively darting to my phantom blade, only to find it wasn't there yet.

Emerging from behind a thick trunk was a man. Unlike the soldiers, he wore no uniform, but his weathered face and the glint of a well-worn dagger at his hip spoke volumes of his experience. He wasn't military, but he was definitely trouble.

"You are one of them," the man said as I locked eyes with him. He was old, with clothes that looked like they hadn't seen a washboard in decades - a worn-out coat hanging loosely over patched pants.

"Who are you?" I demanded, raising my rifle and pointing it straight at his chest. This could be another Captain Dubious situation, all charm and smiles until you let your guard down.

The old man seemed to take my threat in stride, looking me up and down with an unsettling intensity. Then, a smile stretched across his face. It was a smile that sent a shiver down my spine. I swear, it was even creepier than Pennywise the clown from It. The comparison flashed through my mind just as his laughter erupted, a dry, cackling sound that sent birds scattering.

Before I could react, the old man lunged. He moved with surprising speed for someone his age, launching himself directly at me. My training kicked in, and I sidestepped his attack, bringing my elbow up to slam into his chest. But he was lighter than expected, easily rolling with the blow and using the momentum to spin behind me.

The old man's unexpected agility threw me off balance. I stumbled forward, momentarily caught off guard. It was a mistake. A gnarled hand shot up, gripping my wrist with surprising strength. Pain flared as his fingers dug into my pressure points.

Reacting on instinct, I lashed out with my free hand, aiming for his throat. He twisted aside with surprising nimbleness, the stench of sweat and old leather filling my nostrils. My fist connected with nothing but air. The ground beneath us seemed to blur as we grappled, a chaotic dance of desperate shoves, punches, and knees.

He was strong, surprisingly so for his age. But I was younger, faster. I landed a solid blow to his gut, doubling him over momentarily. Seizing the opportunity, I wrenched my wrist free and brought my knee up in a vicious strike.

He barely had time to grunt before the impact sent him staggering back. I pressed my advantage, following up with a flurry of punches and kicks. But he was a seasoned fighter, adept at deflecting and redirecting my blows. The fight devolved into a whirlwind of motion, the air crackling with raw energy.

We circled each other, chests heaving, sweat stinging my eyes. Neither of us dared to break off the fight, knowing the other would capitalize on the momentary weakness. The forest held its breath, the only sounds our ragged gasps and the occasional thud of a blow landing.

We lunged at each other, a desperate bid to end this chaotic dance. His fist connected with a sickening thud, sending a jolt of pain through my chest. I flew backward, crashing into a cluster of trees with a groan. Stars danced in my vision as I struggled to regain my bearings. But the reprieve was short-lived.

A blur of movement – the old man was upon me again. Before I could even react, his boot connected with my stomach with a force that stole the air from my lungs. I shot upwards in an involuntary arc, the forest canopy rushing towards me in a dizzying blur. Just as quickly, a searing pain erupted in my back as his foot slammed into me mid-air.

The world spun as I plummeted back down, the ground rushing up to meet me. With a sickening crack, I hit the earth, the impact carving a small crater in the soft forest floor. The air whooshed out of my lungs, replaced by a sharp, agonizing pain that radiated through my entire body.

A choked groan escaped my lips as pain erupted across my entire body. Blood splattered onto the forest floor as a wet cough wracked my lungs. My vision swam, the canopy above a dizzying kaleidoscope of green. Through the haze, I saw the old man approaching, a slow, chilling smile spreading across his weathered face.

Every fiber of my being screamed at me to get up, to fight back. But my body had betrayed me. I lay sprawled in the crater, limbs heavy and unresponsive. Despair clawed at me as I realized I was at his mercy.

He stopped just a foot from me, his smile twisting into a cruel smirk. "Much weaker than the last one," he rasped, his voice like dry leaves rustling in the wind.

"What do you…" I croaked, the words thick with blood and pain.

He didn't answer. Instead, with a lightning-fast movement, his boot slammed onto my exposed foot. A scream that turned into a choked gasp tore from my throat as searing agony lanced through me. He wasn't aiming to kill me quickly, that much was clear. He wanted me to suffer.

"Who… who are you working for?" I gasped between clenched teeth.

"Tell me about the one who gave you this... power," he sneered, pressing down further on my foot. "What's his objective? Does the Overlord want something from us?"

The name "Overlord" sent a jolt through me. This wasn't just some random encounter. This was something bigger, something far more dangerous. I gritted my teeth, the pain fueling a surge of defiance.

"I… I don't know anything…" I lied, my voice ragged.

The old man's eyes narrowed. He leaned down, his face inches from mine. "Don't lie to me, boy. It'll only make this more… unpleasant." He applied even more pressure, the bones in my foot threatening to shatter.

The choked gasp that escaped my lips morphed into a strangled scream as the old man pressed down further. Pain, so white-hot it threatened to consume me entirely, radiated from my foot. "Did you know," he rasped, his voice laced with a chilling amusement, "how much destruction that has happened because of that bastard?"

He wasn't interested in a quick kill. He reveled in my agony, twisting the knife with every word. "If only you could see the wreckage left behind by your failures," he continued, his voice dropping to a low growl. "Innocent lives lost, villages razed to the ground. All thanks to your precious Overlord's ambitions."

"Now you will die," he snarled, raising his hand with a sickening gleam in his eye. It was aimed straight for my chest, mere inches from claiming my life.

But before his cruel touch could connect, a grotesque eruption of green slime erupted from the ground. It shot upwards with unnatural speed, a bioluminescent spike that pierced the old man's heart in a sickening squelch. His eyes widened in shock, the amusement replaced by a horrifying realization – he had underestimated me.

The old man crumpled, his body a withered husk shuddering with his final, rattling breaths. Silence descended once more, broken only by the wet gurgle of his demise and the ragged gasps escaping my own battered form.

"I Fucking hate this," I rasped, the words a dry whisper against my cracked lips. The metallic tang of blood filled my mouth. Using my elbows for leverage, I pushed myself out of the crater, the world tilting precariously with each movement. My legs were symphonies of pain, barely able to support my weight. Ignoring the protests of my body, I forced myself forward, a single, desperate goal driving me – to find my men.