--- Flashback to when he was 12 years old.
"Dad... I didn't tell on you."
Sirens were flashing outside the Quiver's mansion. The blue hitting his father's black hair as he sat calmly as a megaphone was asking him to surrender. His father looked over to Jack.
"I know."
He ruffled his hair. They sat next to each other in the living room with a great view of their Japanese garden created by the art of bonsai. The house was silent except the sirens, which was deafening.
"Are you not afraid?" Jack asked.
12 year old him could barely string that sentence together because of all the adrenaline and fear.
"Why should I be?" he asked back.
"I killed a lot of people son. I can handle myself in there."
His dad, ever confident, patted him on the shoulder.
"You know Jack... most father's advice is about how to be a good man."
He looked out the window to the chaos of men with rifles surrounding the house.
"Avoid drugs, respect woman, get a job. My advice is... do anything in your power for the one you love."
A single tear streamed down his father's face. He knelt down.
"Kill for them. Lie for them. Die for them."
Grabbing Jack by his shoulder, he brought him in for an embrace.
"Do you remember that door... the one I told you never to open."
Jack's breath hitched. He was going to tell him.
"Never open it."
He ruffled Jack's hair again. And as if accepting his fate, he smiled.
"I'm going away for a long time... until I die. But we'll see each other again. I promise."
--- Back to the present.
A dull ache in Jack's heart surfaced, a phantom pain for the life he'd lost. The thought of his father. He won't be able to make this week's visit in prison. His dad will get the news from his mother. The thought of him hearing that he was actually dead brought another kind of pain. Maybe Jack should ask the system to send a message?
"Are you crying in my chest?" Jeanne whispered, her lungs burning with every step. She vaulted over a market stall, a cascade of bright citrus fruits scattering across cobblestones like jewels.
Jack sniffled and wiped his metaphorical nose on her skin.
"I'm just admiring the holy view," Jack squeaked back.
The view being the soft, pale skin of her breasts which was the only thing that came between him and the holy spears. The city of Holia was a blur of gray stone, colourful signs, and shouting townsfolk.
Jeanne was too busy dodging to retort back. Peeking out, it was like roided-up olympic runners were chasing a small dog. The four golden paladins moved with impossible speed and coordination.
"Blasphemy!" one roared, his voice a metallic boom.
Jack had to help. The system, as useless as it was, had given him a skill. Maybe it had hidden applications.
"Is there anything else you can give me?" he asked the silent void in his mind.
"Like, I'm supposed to have a system right?" he insisted.
Another window popped up, more detailed this time.
---
[Handholding System]
[Handholding Points: 0]
[Ten Digit Shop: Locked]
[Evolution: Locked]
[HP: 1/5]
---
He mentally closed the menu. If he had a hat, he'd take it off and begin a minute of silence.
"I don't have hands," he stated the obvious.
[Slimes do not possess hands.]
Jack could not believe that even a robotic, disembodied voice had a sarcastic mode. Where was the plug to pull on this thing?
One of the paladins split off from the group and a few minutes later an alarm bell echoed in the entire city. Gasps of shock and whispers spread around.
"Shit," Jeanne cursed for the first time since he met her. A priestess cursing was not a good sign.
"Is that a problem?"
Jeanne huffed and leaped over a cart of flowers. She wiped sweat off her brows.
"Lockdown."
He was thrown off balance without preparation as Jeanne changed course.
"The sewers," she said.
Making their way to one of the grates, Jack watched as Jeanne kicked the steel bars as if they were butter. A part of him didn't want to enter a sewer: the human part.
He looked back and noticed there wasn't anyone chasing them.
"Say how do you know where the sewers are?"
Stopping short of climbing down the hole, Jeanne paused.
"Is this really the right question to ask?" she raised her brow.
They didn't have the luxury of small talk, especially when an entire city's guard was likely looking for them.
Feeling the cold gel that was Jack's body against her skin, she jumped inside without warning. Down below there was darkness and the putrid smell of rot, human waste, and old magic.
"Disgusting."
His slime form had a better sense of smell than he anticipated.
"Don't whine," she whispered and took him out from her boobs.
He peeked around the environment. The sewers was an ancient system of brick tunnels, with dripping pipes and glowing fungus that cast sickly green and purple shadows.
"Do you not clean the sewers?" he asked.
Jeanne ignored him. But Jack noticed how she was walking; her steps careful, her eyes scanning for threats. She knew this place like it was the back of her gloved hand.
Suddenly he could hear footsteps. They were far but they were super fast yet Jeanne couldn't hear them.
"Jeanne."
His squeaky, puberty-cracked shout made the priestess flinch violently. Her wide, pale blue eyes shot to him.
"What?"
"How do you know this city's sewer system so well?"
She sighed.
"Everyone in the church has to learn. For emergencies like this," Jeanne said.
Sensing his question, she added, "Don't worry they'll be searching for us above. That's why they rung the alarm bell."
The footsteps echoed louder and closer. Jack's fear escalated to a near-panic.
"Let's go back. This has to be a trap. They want you to go to the sewers," he said.
It was a desperate plea.
Jeanne, however, remained unnervingly still, her head tilted, listening. But she heard nothing. Jack could, the patter of boots on wet stone approaching, and fast.
But Jack couldn't let them fall into a trap. Escaping from a trap is not as easy as escaping a couple of paladins, he could be caught. Then die again. What if he actually reincarnates as a rat next time?
So he hopped out of her hands with as much force as he could manage. A wet thud echoed in the tunnels as he landed on the grimy brick.
Jeanne spun around.
"Hey!"
Unfortunately for her Jack was running away. He didn't have legs but he was propelled by a fear that made him a green blur, a tiny green blur with a priestesses chasing after it.