The Slime King Awakens

The silence was absolute.

Hatz remained on the ground, face bloodied, breath ragged, and gripping his mop with a trembling hand. The echoes of laughter from the other side of the door had faded completely.

Now it was just him. And whatever was about to awaken.

Then, his rune flickered weakly.

[Enemy Detected]

⚠️ Dungeon Boss: Fleshseeker Swamp King

Classification: Abyssal Slime Variant

Rank: A+

Traits: Acidic Mass | Regenerative Core | Consuming Aura

Survival Chance: Negligible

🛑 Mission: Endure the Inevitable

The message blinked. Then disappeared, as if even the system didn't want to watch.

"...'Inevitable'?" Hatz whispered hoarsely.

A tremor ran through the ground. The sound was muffled, like the groan of a giant intestine coming back to life.

From the center of the chamber, the sludge began to bubble. The mud cracked open, and a formless, gelatinous horror rose like a nightmare made of living grease.

First one bubble. Then another. Until a colossal body rose, quivering under its own weight.

It was a repulsive, reeking mass, with bones, spines, and rusted weapons floating inside.

Dozens of sunken eyes blinked randomly in the gelatinous flesh. At its center, a red, festering core pulsed like a diseased heart.

The Swamp King had awakened.

The air thickened. Every breath burned, like inhaling hot mold.

Hatz could barely lift himself. His ribs, head, and arms throbbed with pain. No strength left. No tricks left.

Just him... and the end.

He looked at the door. Locked. Sealed from the inside. Like every boss room. A prison with no exit.

"Great," he muttered, lowering his head. "I don't even get to die trying to run."

The Swamp King advanced. A bubbling roar spread through the chamber, making the walls tremble. With every meter it moved, it absorbed mud and bones from the floor, growing larger, fatter.

No weak points. No offensive skills. Just a mop with minor cleaning magic…

He tried to laugh, but it came out as an empty sigh.

His thoughts grew darker.

He had crawled through filth, gained a skill that let him level up by scrubbing blood and guts… and this was what it got him. To be dissolved in acid by a boss that didn't even know his name.

He clenched his teeth. Lifted the mop with effort, though his arm trembled violently.

"I'm not begging," he whispered. "But I'm not staying down either."

The Swamp King opened a massive split across its surface. Not a mouth—but close enough. A gurgling moan filled the air, and the core pulsed hungrily.

Hatz took a single step forward. Just one. His legs were jelly.

Fine. If this is the end… then let it be standing, not crawling like a worm.

He raised the mop with both hands. Took a guard stance. He knew he wouldn't survive.

But he would fight anyway. Because the only other option was dying before his turn.

"Come on, monster. End your round."

Without wasting time, he assigned the points: three to Dexterity, four to Strength, two to Agility.

"With any luck… I'll land a single hit," he muttered just as the Swamp King began to tremble and compress. "Shit. That doesn't look good at all."

The boss slime roared—a deep, guttural sound that shook the whole room. Hatz doubled over as the pain shot through his spine like a whip.

Then, without warning, the Swamp King expanded violently. As if spring-loaded from within, it launched chunks of its own body at high speed—organic shrapnel.

Hatz barely managed to shield his face with his arms and mop. The rest hit him full force in the torso and limbs.

Now that was a real attack.

Lawson's punches were slaps compared to this. He felt bones crack. A rib—maybe two—shattered, probably punctured something.

He couldn't breathe. The impact sent him flying across the room.

His mangled arms kept him from blacking out entirely. Even so, it amazed him he hadn't been torn apart.

So this is the power of a dungeon boss.

Unbeatable. Overwhelming.

There was no way. He would never reach that level.

How the hell does anyone fight something like this?

He hit the ground sideways, blood flooding his mouth. Couldn't speak. Couldn't move. No air.

And he... had wanted to land a hit.

Naive. Stupid.

Lying on his side, he could barely make out the Swamp King readying another attack.

A huge limb extended, forming like an arm. It began to glow, drawing motes of energy from the air.

Magic.

The bastard was going to blast him with magic.

At least there wouldn't be anything left to clean.

The gel-like arm vibrated as it charged. Hatz could only stare. The hum grew sharper. His mind clouded. The world faded.

A multicolored sphere gathered at the tip of the appendage. This was it.

He closed his eyes.

It had been fun while it lasted.

NO!

The fear hit him like a spear. He didn't want to die. Not like this.

With all his remaining strength, he clutched his mop. He tried to stand.

He spat blood. A bit of air returned to his lungs. It hurt—but he was still breathing.

If he couldn't stand, then he'd fight from the ground.

He raised the mop with both hands, channeling his Residue Pulverization skill.

The weapon's head shone brighter than ever, glowing with the energy gathered after hours of magical cleaning. But there was no time for fear.

The Swamp King fired.

A blinding beam filled the chamber. A bubbling roar. An explosion of light and sound.

Hatz screamed from the depths of his being—not from bravery, but pure survival instinct.

—GHWAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

A blast. A searing wind flung him like a rag doll.

And then…

A vision.

Above him, through the white smoke, a silhouette took shape.

Hair red as fire. A slender body, taut and battle-ready, clad in a black combat suit, runes glowing on her arms. Her bare back shimmered with golden light.

Was it a dream? Had he already died?

If this was death… it hurt far too much.

No. It was something else.

A barrier. A shield of energy.

She was holding back the blast. Bracing it with both outstretched arms.

A heavenly vision amid hell.

"...Nyssia?" he whispered.

The young woman resisted the beam as if made of arcane steel. The ray still tried to push her back, but she did not yield.

Hatz, half-dead and barely conscious, felt something stir inside him—something like hope.

Then, Nyssia began to chant. Her voice firm and solemn:

"The persecuting judgment of the goddess Milyia, pacifier of universes... takes root to condemn those who commit acts of violence against her chosen…"

Hatz watched in awe as the runes on her arms lit up, her hair whipping violently in the force of the Swamp King's ray.

"...bend your pride and yield your strength to her command. Let her words become chains that bind both the seen and the unseen..."

The beam began to weaken—until it vanished completely.

Nyssia didn't waste a second. With fast, precise gestures, as if pulling threads from the air, she concentrated her magic.

"Submission!"

Ethereal, glowing threads descended from the sky, like snowflakes of light falling on the sludge colossus.

With a snap of her fingers, Nyssia activated the net.

The threads tightened. The Swamp King's body trembled, crushed by magical pressure that held and choked it.

A roar, even louder than before, shook the entire chamber.

"We have to get out of here!" Nyssia shouted, turning urgently to Hatz.

He could barely stay conscious. The pain was an ocean. His legs didn't move. His ribs screamed with every breath.

But when she grabbed his shoulders—when he felt the warmth of her hands and the soft scent of her hair—something lit up inside him.

He wouldn't crawl. Not while she was helping him stand.

Boss room doors only opened from the outside…

How the hell would they escape?

The answer came instantly.

Nyssia pulled an object from one of her compartments: a small white wing adorned with tiny gems.

She threw it in front of them. It hovered a few inches above the ground—then a portal unfolded.

Through it, Hatz saw the dungeon entrance.

Before stepping in, he turned with effort to glance back.

The Swamp King was already beginning to break free from the threads.

I'll be back, he thought. Rage, shame, and determination swirling in his chest. A promise made to the mud.

They stepped through just as a new wave of projectiles streaked through the air.

Nyssia laid him gently beside the dungeon entrance. She quickly rummaged through one of her compartments.

"Hang in there just a little longer… ", she whispered, her eyes shining with a worry so genuine it disarmed him.

She pulled out a crystal the size of a walnut—emerald green—and crushed it in her fist in front of him.

Shimmering fragments dissolved in the air, entering through his mouth and nose.

He felt a jolt—like raw vitality injected straight into his soul.

His bones snapped back into place. His wounds closed at an absurd speed.

Within seconds, he could breathe normally.

He sat up, still sore, but lucid. He coughed twice before speaking:

"That was… amazing", he said with a weak but sincere smile.

Nyssia let out a relieved sigh and sat beside him on the ground.

Hatz couldn't help but take a closer look.

The field uniform of the administrators consisted of combat boots, a very short tactical skirt, high stockings, and a sleeveless suit with an open back.

For any healthy guy, it was a vision impossible to ignore.

Hatz was no exception.

When Nyssia noticed his gaze, he quickly looked away, embarrassed.

But she didn't seem uncomfortable. She didn't scold him.

Maybe she was used to it. And somehow, that made it sadder.

He stood up slowly.

His work jumpsuit was torn, stained with blood and mud.

He must've looked like a walking corpse.

"How did you even get here?", he asked, offering his hand to help her up.

"Before that…" ,Nyssia cut him off, her tone shifting abruptly.

She ignored his hand and sprang to her feet in one fluid motion.

Then she walked straight toward him, forcing him to back up until he was trapped between her and the door.

"What the hell is a cleaner doing inside a floor boss chamber?!" she snapped, jabbing a finger at his chest.

"I… I didn't mean to…"

"Were you trying to get yourself killed or what?" she went on, frowning. "You do know entering uncompleted levels is strictly forbidden for cleaners, right?"

Hatz nodded, his cheeks flushing red.

His focus was torn between her angry voice… and her lips.

Damn this closeness.

"Sorry… I… I didn't…"

The words stuck in his throat.

He knew he could explain. But he didn't want to. Not yet.

Not if it meant this moment would end.

"We'll have to find a way to avoid reporting this to the superintendent or your shift captains", Nyssia said, now more thoughtful. "But only if you promise not to pull anything like this again."

"There's… an explanation…", he mumbled, unable to stop himself from meeting her gaze again.

"There better be! Can you imagine if I hadn't been here?", Nyssia raised her voice again, though this time it wasn't out of anger. "I wouldn't have been able to… I had to ask around several places… I needed to find you…"

Her voice dropped lower and lower, until it was barely a whisper.

"Find me?". Hatz asked, puzzled.

"The brooch", she murmured, rummaging through her belt pouch.

Hatz looked down at the pin she had given him the night before—the one whose gem had changed color.

He had completely forgotten about it.

He swallowed hard.

He could lie. Say he'd found it like that.

But he didn't want to.

Not to her.

He couldn't tell her that his rune had reacted to the object…Could he?

"Oh, right… that", he said, scratching his neck with an awkward smile.

"I need to know how—"

Before she could finish, Hatz bowed awkwardly.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! It just happened when I touched it—I don't even know how to explain it! But I'll do anything to make it up to you!"

"Make it up to me?", Nyssia raised an eyebrow, clearly confused.

Hatz avoided her gaze.

He paced back and forth, trying to think… nothing came.

He sighed.

Slowly, he removed the glove from his right hand and showed it to her—without looking up.

"When I had it in my hands, this lit up. I don't know what it did. I'm sorry."

Nyssia stepped closer to examine the rune carefully.

Hatz remained silent, head down.

And then… she started laughing.

He looked up, startled.

It wasn't mockery.

It wasn't sarcasm.

It was a radiant laugh. Genuine.

A laugh that, after everything they'd just gone through, felt like the best reward possible.