Primordial Slime: I Devour The World

House Valcrest had always been proud. Their banners were bright, their halls were clean, their sons were taught that the world would bow to their ambition. And the second son of the house inherited the pride of his ancestors.

Calian Valcrest stood in the manor courtyard, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he looked upon the line of armored soldiers gathered before him. One hundred men, chosen from his personal forces, sworn to follow his orders, eager to serve under the banner of House Valcrest. Calian allowed himself a smile. A few years ago, he would have been just another son, with little to show for his life.

But then he had cleared a dungeon, and another, and another, awakened his Unique Skill, and his name had spread across the land. Officers praised him, lesser nobles envied him, and even the common solders spoke of him with admiration. His adviser approached him, a grizzled old man with a permanent frown etched into his face.

”My Lord. The Guild believes that observation is the best course of action.” ”Observation?” Calian echoed, raising an eyebrow. ”The Great Verdant Forest is not a safe place.” The adviser replied. ”Monsters are said to be growing bolder with each passing day.” ”Monsters?” Calian chuckled.

”The Guild would have you believe that the monsters are the reason why we should not engage the enemy.” He said and the adviser frowned. He tapped the pommel of his sword with a gloved finger. ”If the monsters are growing bolder, then it is our duty to show them that we are stronger.”

Confidence was a virtue, and he had plenty of that. It had served him well, along with his skill with a blade, allowing him to carve a path of conquest through the lower crypts and the dungeon near the western border, to slay the beast that the superstitious villagers thought to be immortal. While men his age wasted their lives drinking and gambling, he had earned his place as a commander of the Empire. Calian raised his sword, and the sound of a hundred voices chanting his name echoed through the courtyard. ”We do not wait for the beasts to attack.” He declared. ”We strike first!” His soldiers responded with a bloodcurdling battle cry, and Calian allowed himself a smile.

The sun was already high in the sky when the vanguard of his forces crossed the border. They moved swiftly, following the trail that his scouts had uncovered, and the information his men had gathered. The deeper they traveled, the denser the forest became. One of the sergeants who had ridden with him since the beginning cleared his throat. ”My Lord.” The man said. ”What is it?” Calian asked. ”The scouts say that the terrain becomes more difficult beyond the outer groves. We should keep our formation tight.”

The sergeant replied.

”I hope you are not suggesting that I am not fit to lead my men.” Calian said, smirking. ”No, My Lord.” The sergeant said quickly. ”Then do not suggest things.” Calian said. The sergeant fell silent. Two hours later, the silence of the forest seemed oppressive. The birds had stopped singing, the insects had fallen silent, and even the horses seemed to be on edge. Calian was about to call for the scouts to move ahead when the smell of smoke reached his nose. His soldiers were murmuring uneasily when Calian caught the smell of smoke. It was several more hours before they saw the smoke. It curled above the treetops in thick, dark ribbons, and his men fell silent. Calian turned his head, his hand tightening around the pommel of his sword. ”Advance carefully.” He said. His men moved cautiously, and the forest opened before them.

An Orcish encampment stretched into the horizon, its borders marked by rows of sharpened stakes and roaring fires. Tattered hides decorated the makeshift tents, and masses of weapons and armor lay scattered along the ground. Massive banners of tanned leather and dark wood stood at the center of the camp, marking the location of the Orcish war tent, a large structure of stitched leather and dark timber.

Calian narrowed his eyes. The Orcs had formed an organized unit of soldiers. The Orcs seemed to realize that they were not alone, because the moment Calian’s scouts moved beyond the tree line, the entire camp fell silent. Then the camp was no longer silent. The Orcs prepared for battle, shouting orders to their fellow warriors. They were preparing for battle. Then the largest of the Orcs emerged from the war tent. The Orc was massive, even for his own kind, a dark cloak hung from one shoulder, and in his massive hands, he wielded a blade as big as his torso. The other Orcs fell silent as the giant approached, and even Calian had to take a step back.

”Their leader. That’s not an Orc chieftain.” The sergeant muttered in fear. ”What is he then?” Calian asked. The sergeant was staring at the giant with wide eyes. ”An Orc Lord.” The sergeant said. Calian remained silent for a long moment. An Orc Lord.

A monster lord. The Orc Lord roared, and the sound seemed to shake the very trees. The Orcs answered his roar with another one of their own, and Calian raised his sword. His men moved, and the battle began.

Several arrows landed among his men, striking shields, horses. Three lines of Orcs, each wielding massive weapons and large shields, met the charge of Calian’s soldiers. Light infantry fought at the flanks, dodging the heavy blows of the human knights. Calian narrowed his eyes. ”Hold the center.” His men adjusted their formation, and the two sides met in the middle of the clearing.

Boom!

The sound of clashing steel echoed through the trees as Calian’s soldiers met the charge of the Orcs. Calian was the first to meet the enemy, and he brought his sword up to parry a massive blow from an Orcish brute.

Slash!

The Orc fell to the ground, but another one took his place.

Clang!

Calian parried the next blow, his muscles straining. He twisted his body and brought his blade down, slicing off the head of the Orcish warrior. Another Orc charged at him, but Calian cut him down as well. For a moment, Calian allowed himself to be happy. His men were pushing the Orcs back, and their morale was rising with every passing moment. This was the kind of battle that he had trained for, and he was glad that he had the opportunity to lead his men into battle. It would be another victory for House Valcrest, and his name would live on in the annals of history.

Suddenly the Orcs at the left flank began to push forward. ”My Lord!” One of his men shouted. ”They are trying to break us!” ”Hold the center,” Calian growled. The Orcs continued to push forward, and the left flank was the first to break. Calian turned to face the enemy, but the Orc Lord raised his blade, and the entire formation of Orcs changed. The flanks pushed forward, forcing Calian to change his formation as well. The Orcish archers changed their formation, and the front lines of Orcs pushed forward, forcing the humans to meet them in the center.

These were not mindless.

”Unique Skill: Vanguard!” A surge of power coursed through his body, and his muscles tensed. His body became lighter, and his senses were sharper. Calian charged forward, and the Orcs were the first to die.

Slash!

One Orc fell, then another, then a third, as Calian’s blade carved through their bodies. His men followed his lead, and for a moment, it seemed as if they would win. But then another group of Orcs arrived, and the fallen ones were quickly replaced.

The flanks moved around the human formation, and the Orcish archers changed their positions. Calian’s stomach twisted. His men fought desperately, but the Orcs did not give them a moment’s rest. They did not break and run, as most monsters would have done. They attacked the formation, forcing the humans to fight, to break, to reform. They isolated groups of soldiers, cutting through their formation, breaking their shields, and pushing them back. Calian watched as another captain fell, and then another. He struck down another Orc, and another, and another, but his arms were growing tired, and his breathing was becoming labored.

The Unique Skill of Vanguard was strong, but it was not enough to stop an entire army. The battle raged on, and Calian’s formation was slowly being pushed back.

He turned his head, taking in the sight of the battlefield. His soldiers were dying, and the left flank was completely gone. The right flank was holding, but it would not hold for long, and the center was being pushed back. The Orc Lord was advancing, and Calian knew that he would have to fight him soon. The thought terrified him, and he took a step back, away from the battle. The Orc Lord pointed his blade at him, and the Orcs around him surged forward. Calian raised his sword, and the first Orc to reach him brought his axe down.

Clang!

He blocked the blow, but the force of it sent shockwaves up his arms. Then the next Orc was upon him, and Calian brought his sword up to parry.

Clang!

Again, he blocked, but his arms were growing weaker with every passing moment. Behind him, he heard the sound of a man screaming. Calian turned his head, and his heart sank. The force that he had led into battle was breaking. His officers were dying, and his men were retreating. The army that had marched proudly under his banner was turning into a rabble of survivors. Calian tightened his grip on his sword.

No.

This was not how it was supposed to happen.

He had fought so hard to earn his place as a commander, and he had led his men into battle with pride. He had believed that the Empire wasted its time observing monsters. But now he realized that he was wrong. The Orc Lord attacked again, but Calian barely had the strength to block. His arms shook, and his breathing was ragged. Behind him, he heard the sound of horses galloping away, and he turned his head. His men were running, and he was alone. He turned to run. Calian ran, his heart pounding in his chest. He did not look back, not even when he heard the sound of the Orcs chasing him. At some point, he lost his horse, and then his sword, and then his men.

He was alone, and his side was burning.

Calian pressed his hand against the wound, but he did not stop running. Eventually, he collapsed, his legs giving out beneath him.

He lay there, his breathing shallow, his body trembling. For a moment, he simply stared at the sky. The forest was silent, save for the sound of his own breathing. Calian looked down at his hand, which was covered in blood. This was not how it was supposed to happen. He had believed that his strength would be enough, but it was not. His army had been broken, his men had died, and the Orc Lord and his monsters had bested him. Calian clenched his fist, his heart heavy with grief. He had always believed that strength was the most important virtue, but today he had learned that it was not. It was not enough to win a battle. It was not enough to protect his men. It was not even enough to save himself.