Kael had been away from his village for sixteen days and had already made exactly four serious mistakes.
Mistake number one: underestimating how much food cost outside home.
Mistake number two: accepting a escort job without asking who he'd be escorting. The answer had been a goat. A very specific goat with very specific enemies, apparently.
Mistake number three: camping near a river without checking for giant river otters. There were.
Mistake number four was happening right now, in real time, as Kael decided whether or not to stick his nose into something that was clearly not his problem.
The problem was a man in expensive armor standing in front of what appeared to be a red puddle.
The red puddle was trembling.
"Come on," the man said, with the bored tone of someone who'd had this conversation a hundred times. "No drama. You're F-rank. It doesn't even hurt, technically."
The red puddle backed up until it hit a tree root.
Kael knew the type of adventurer this guy was. He'd seen them in the village when they passed through on their way somewhere more important. Shiny armor, the attitude of someone who'd never lost at anything, and a mental list of exactly how many experience points every living thing in the forest was worth. F-rank slimes were on that list right above "nothing" and right below "basically nothing."
The man's lance gleamed with concentrated mana.
The red puddle flattened itself against the root like it could become part of the tree.
Not your problem, Kael told himself. You're a G-rank adventurer. That guy's wearing at least B-rank armor. You've been away from home sixteen days and still haven't earned enough to eat tomorrow. Not. Your. Problem.
The lance came down.
"Hey," said Kael.
The man stopped. Turned his head with the expression of someone who'd just heard a piece of furniture speak.
"What?"
Kael hadn't thought past "hey." He improvised.
"That slime's mine."
Silence in the forest.
"Excuse me?" the man said.
"My slime," Kael repeated, with a conviction he absolutely didn't feel. "It ran off this morning. I've been looking for it. Thanks for finding it, but I'll take it from here."
The man looked him up and down. Saw the worn boots. The patched pack. The common iron sword that had clearly been bought used. The face of someone who'd barely eaten breakfast and slept even worse.
"You're a villager," the man said. Not as an insult. Just as an observation of reality.
"I'm an adventurer," Kael said.
"You're a villager with a sword," the man corrected. "And that slime doesn't have a bond mark. It's not yours."
"We haven't done the paperwork yet."
"Slimes don't have paperwork."
"Mine does. He's special."
Another silence. The man assessed the situation. Assessed Kael. Assessed how much time this was taking versus how many experience points an F-rank slime was worth.
He snorted. Put away his lance.
"Keep your trash," he said, and walked off through the trees with the stride of someone who had more important places to be.
Kael waited until the footsteps faded completely.
Then he let out the breath he'd been holding through the whole conversation and doubled over with his hands on his knees.
"Okay," he said, when he'd recovered enough composure. "Okay. That went well. Relatively."
He straightened up and looked at the red slime.
The red slime was looking back at him from the tree root. Still flattened against the wood, but no longer trembling.
"You're okay," Kael said. "He's gone. You can... do whatever slimes do. Leave. Whatever."
The slime didn't leave.
"Seriously. You're safe. I'm going my way, you go yours. That thing about you being my slime was just to get rid of the guy. You don't owe me anythi—"
The slime jumped and landed on his boot.
"...ah."
He looked at it. It was completely red, about the size of a medium ball, and it was looking at him with an intensity Kael hadn't known slimes could have.
"No," Kael said.
The slime gripped his boot.
"Hey. No. I've got enough problems. I can't—"
But he was already bending down, with the automatic motion of someone who'd grown up picking up injured animals without anyone asking him to.
The slime settled into his hands.
"This is temporary," Kael said, very clearly, looking it straight in the... whatever slimes had. "Got it? Temporary."
The slime glowed once. Soft. Almost imperceptible.
Kael decided to interpret that as a yes.
It wasn't.
---
He tried three times that afternoon.
The first time he carefully left it on a tree and kept walking. Thirty seconds later something wet and red landed on his shoulder.
The second time he left it by a stream with what he hoped was a kind gesture. Water. Slimes need water, I guess. Here's water. Goodbye. He walked five minutes. Turned around. The slime was behind him two meters away, moving with surprising dignity for something without legs.
The third time he didn't even bother trying to leave it. He just kept walking and the slime kept following, and eventually Kael accepted that he'd be camping that night with unsolicited company.
"Fine," he said while setting up camp. "One night. But tomorrow you're staying in the forest."
The slime watched him set up the tent. Watched him start the fire. Watched him eat half of what remained in his pack with the expression of someone calculating how many days he could survive like this.
"Don't laugh," Kael said.
The slime didn't laugh. Technically slimes couldn't laugh.
Though Kael had the strange feeling that was a technicality, not a reality.
He lay down. Watched the fire die. The slime settled near his head the way it had on the tree, by the stream, at every stop that afternoon.
"One night," Kael repeated.
He closed his eyes.
The slime glowed softly in the darkness. Three seconds exactly. Like it was processing something important.
Then it, too, went still.