Primordial Slime: I Devour The World

Tanaka spent the next morning doing something that he rarely had the opportunity to do. Chatting with people. Not kings, queens, merchants haggling over trade agreements or warriors testing his mettle. Tanaka wandered the streets of Varghelm in his humanoid form and talked with beastfolk about their lives.

The answers he got shaped a lot of his perceptions about the city. A rabbitfolk baker told him how she placed a low-level heat maintenance spell on her bread ovens to keep them at a comfortable temperature, though she still burned wood to power it as constant mana investment was draining. ”It’s not that hard to learn a spell like that, is it?” Tanaka asked. ”Nothing like that,” the rabbitwoman chuckled, ”but most beastfolk know enough magic to make their daily tasks easier.”

Further down the street, a fox beastman used a small wind spell to clear shelves in his shop while two wolf craftsmen strengthened a beam with a reinforcement enchantment before slotting it into the wall of a newly built house and a bear beastwoman hardened the damp earth underfoot to lay a foundation. Tanaka paused to watch them. They didn’t act like they were doing anything special. Magic was just another tool.

Tanaka paused at a workshop with a group of young beastfolk practicing enchanting farming tools. An instructor watched over them, criticizing the rune patterns they carved into the metal. One apprentice had ruined a hoe. The instructor frowned at the jagged mess of the broken tool. ”You put too much mana into the reinforcement inscription,” he said.

The young wolf’s ears drooped. ”I thought the more mana I put into it, the stronger it would be,” he said. ”Putting too much mana into an unstable enchantment makes it explode,” the instructor said. ”You’re not aiming to increase its stability.” Tanaka stifled a laugh. The instructor glanced at him.

”You interested?” the instructor asked. ”Very,” Tanaka said, introducing himself. The man already seemed to know who he was - word of a slime ruler visiting Varghelm spread fast enough that Tanaka had stopped being surprised when people recognized him. The instructor’s name was Hadrik.

Unlike the mages Tanaka had met in human kingdoms, Hadrik was more of a generalist. He taught practical magics, circulation of mana, basics of enchantment and elements to craftsmen who needed it for their work. Tanaka spent almost an hour asking questions, and Hadrik narrowed his eyes at one point. ”Have you ever learned formal spellcasting?” Hadrik asked.

Tanaka scratched his cheek. ”Not really,” he said. ”You use magic,” Hadrik said. ”Yes,” Tanaka replied. ”But you don’t understand spell construction?” Hadrik asked. ”I understand some of it,” Tanaka said. Hadrik crossed his arms. ”Show me,” he said.

Tanaka glanced around. A number of students had stopped to watch him. ”Here?” he asked. ”Unless you plan to destroy my workshop,” Hadrik replied. ”I wasn’t planning to,” Tanaka said. ”That’s not very reassuring,” Hadrik said. Tanaka sighed.

He lifted a hand and dark blue liquid erupted from his palm, taking the form of a thick rope before splashing uselessly into a water trough. Hadrik blinked. ”So that’s your natural magic?” he asked. ”Slime-based,” Tanaka said. ”Again,” Hadrik instructed.

Tanaka formed the spell again, and Hadrik watched the flow of mana carefully this time. Once it was finished, he tapped Tanaka’s arm. ”You don’t cast the way we do,” Hadrik said. Tanaka already knew that. ”My spells are more instinctive,” Tanaka said. ”Exactly,” Hadrik replied.

Hadrik gestured at the students. ”Most beastfolk start with incantations because words give structure to mana. Once the caster understands the structure well enough, they can shorten the phrase or eventually cast without an incantation,” he explained. Tanaka was reminded of how Nira had done something similar. It wasn’t hard to understand. The hard part was actually doing it.

Hadrik handed him a sheet of paper with a simple wind spell written on it. ”Read this,” he said. Tanaka scanned the words. It was a longer incantation than he was used to. ”Wind that travels beneath the open sky, gather around my hand and answer my call...” he trailed off. Hadrik waited patiently. Tanaka stared at the page.

”Do people actually say that much when they fight?” Tanaka asked. The students collapsed in hysterics. Hadrik rubbed his temples. ”Beginners do,” he said. Tanaka struggled through the incantation again and pushed the mana through the pattern Hadrik showed him. Nothing happened. One student coughed. Tanaka shot him a glare. The boy quickly looked away.

”Again,” Hadrik said. Tanaka tried again. Still nothing. Again. Nothing. By the seventh time, Tanaka was starting to understand why he preferred skills. ”This is annoying,” Tanaka said. ”Your mana is trying to skip the structure,” Hadrik said. ”You’re used to making things happen.”

Tanaka frowned. It made sense. His body naturally handled a lot of the process with his skills. He closed his eyes. Instead of trying to force the magic, Tanaka focused on the wind abilities he was familiar with. Wind Breath, Storm Fiend, Storm Lord. The way they worked, the pressure in his body before he used them, the way air reacted when he activated them.

Then he tried again. ”Wind that travels beneath the open sky, gather around my hand and answer my call. Spiral and obey. Wind Sphere,” he chanted. Air swirled above his palm. A small sphere of unstable wind, but wind nonetheless. Tanaka grinned. Hadrik’s eyes narrowed. ”Again,” Hadrik said.

Tanaka formed another sphere of air. And another. And another. The wind grew steadier with each repetition until Tanaka felt something inside his mana shift. It wasn’t just a spell anymore. It was a part of him, the way it moved and the pressure of it against his skin. A notification appeared.

[Elemental understanding has reached the required threshold.]

[Wind Manipulation acquired.]

Tanaka froze, then smiled. ”Well, that’s handy,” he said. Hadrik gave him a strange look. ”What happened?” Hadrik asked. ”Nothing,” Tanaka said. Tanaka didn’t feel like explaining the Voice of the World to an instructor in the middle of a workshop.

---

Experimentation didn’t end there. Once Tanaka was familiar with what Hadrik showed him, he spent some time trying the same techniques with other elements he had used in his skills. It didn’t take long to try with water. Water Movement never let him control water, only move through it with minimal resistance. But Tanaka had used that ability dozens of times. It wasn’t a problem.

Hadrik took him to a public training ground where young mages were practicing their water spells, and Tanaka spent nearly an hour going through basic incantations, failing so often that a number of children watching him became openly amused. Eventually, instead of trying to force the water to obey, he focused on the way Water Movement let him move through currents. How it adapted to his body, how it flowed around his slime form and the changes in pressure.

His hand moved. A thread of water curled around his fingers. A little, then more.

[Water Manipulation acquired.]

Tanaka stared at the stream circling his wrist. ”Interesting,” he said. One of the rabbitfolk children pointed at him. ”You looked surprised,” the child said. ”I am,” Tanaka replied. ”Didn’t you know you could do that?” the child asked. ”Apparently not,” Tanaka said. The child looked thoroughly baffled. Tanaka decided that was fair.

Earth was easier. Earth Impact had already taught his magic how to interact with the earth in an aggressive way, and Stone Body had given him a natural awareness of density and hardness. Hadrik showed him a simple incantation for earth shaping. Tanaka failed three times. On the fourth, a ridge of stone grew from the ground. Then another, and another, until it formed a wall.

[Earth Manipulation acquired.]

Tanaka stared at the wall. Hadrik stared at him. ”You’re learning too quickly,” Hadrik said. Tanaka smiled. ”I’ve had experience,” he said. ”That’s not experience,” Hadrik said, tapping the stone wall. ”That’s cheating.” Tanaka laughed.

Fire was different. He learned the incantations. After a number of failed attempts, Tanaka successfully formed a small ball of flame, and eventually cast two beginner fire spells without hurting himself. But that was it. No further understanding, no Fire Manipulation. Tanaka tried a few more times before Hadrik stopped him. ”You’re forcing it,” Hadrik said.

”I noticed,” Tanaka said. ”Then stop,” Hadrik replied. Tanaka extinguished the flame. Apparently knowing the words wasn’t enough. There had to be some level of familiarity, understanding or perhaps compatibility. Tanaka noted that for future reference.

---

By lunchtime, Tanaka had learned more about beastfolk culture than he expected. Magic wasn’t something foreign to them, rather it was an integral part of daily life. Farmers used earth and water magic to increase yield, builders reinforced their structures, couriers augmented themselves for speed, healers combined medicine with magic, and even regular households had enchanted items for cooking, illumination and food storage.

Even children treated it like something normal. Tanaka finally understood what was different about Bravelm compared to the places he had seen before. Humans used magic. Dark elves lived alongside it. But it was something else here. Something different. Magic wasn’t restricted to soldiers, adventurers or researchers. It wasn’t a novelty. It was familiar. It was a part of life.

Or almost everyone’s. Tanaka caught sight of a familiar face near the edge of a small plaza. Black hair, cat ears, amber eyes. The same girl who had collided with him yesterday. Lynessa. Tanaka didn’t know her name yet. She kept to the shadows of a stone pillar, watching a small group of beastfolk younglings practicing their incantations around a fountain.

A fox girl raised her hand and chanted, ”Spirits of the wandering breeze, gather beneath my palm. Gentle Wind.” A stream of air curled around her fingers. The other beastfolk clapped. Lynessa watched, then glanced around. Tanaka remained still. She hadn’t noticed him yet.

Lynessa raised her hand and repeated the phrase, ”Spirits of the wandering breeze, gather beneath my palm...” She mimicked the words perfectly, ”...Gentle Wind.” Nothing happened. She tried again. And again. Her ears drooped. The younglings at the fountain had moved onto a new spell, unaware that Lynessa was copying them from the shadows.

Lynessa clenched her hand. Tanaka’s expression changed. Yesterday, his Mana Sense had detected something within her. Something buried and sealed away. Something big. Yet she couldn’t perform the simplest of spells. Lynessa turned away. Tanaka stepped closer. ”Hey,” he called.

Lynessa’s head snapped up. Their eyes met. She went white. Tanaka stopped. ”It’s you,” she whispered. Lynessa took a step back. Then another. ”I just wanted to ask you something,” Tanaka said. She whirled around and ran. Tanaka blinked.

”Hey!” he called. He didn’t know her name, so he couldn’t call it out. She vanished into the crowd before he could decide if pursuit was worth risking. Tanaka stood where she had been. People milled around him. A merchant called out somewhere in the distance, the younglings practiced their spells, and Tanaka stared into the space Lynessa had occupied.

”Why’s she afraid of me?”