"So, what's the plan, tin can?" Connie sneered, but her usual sarcasm was laced with something else. Concern.
Lance took a deep breath.
The biggest challenge we'd ever faced stood before us. And everyone was looking at him for an answer.
I saw it—the way his shoulders sagged for a brief moment under the weight of expectation. Then, he squared them again.
"Meili."
He pulled a small round vial from a compartment on his armor and held it out to her.
Everyone froze.
The girl's fingers trembled as the glass was pressed into her hands.
"Why?" Her voice was barely a whisper.
Lance's eyes burned with conviction. "Because we need you."
He motioned to Silver.
"Get on the wolf. Draw the slime's attention. Keep moving. And spill the liquid in an arc around it."
"That's insane, and you know it!" Hogan took a sharp step back. "The vials almost got us all killed! And you're giving it to her?"
Lance's gaze hardened. "There's no time for debate."
"No, there is! She's a kid! She'll get killed!" Hogan snapped, eyes blazing.
He was right. But Lance wouldn't do this recklessly.
I clenched my fists. Hogan was being emotional, and the slime wasn't going to wait for us to argue.
"Look, Hogan." Lance's voice was steady. "Everyone has a role to play. Meili is the lightest. Silver is the fastest. With both of them, we can set a trap." He struck a match, its flame flickering. "Now, will you stand with us, or run with your tail between your legs?"
Hogan gritted his teeth, but before he could answer—
Meili moved.
She swung onto Silver's back with surprising speed, her face set with quiet determination.
No hesitation.
She gave Hogan a fleeting glance. Then she was gone. Riding into danger.
"Don't kill yourself, little girl," Connie yelled at her back. Then she snapped her mouth shut, as if shocked she cared.
Two of her rabbits leapt forward, bounding after Meili. They wouldn't let her face this alone.
Sweat beaded on Meili's forehead as she uncorked the vial, the small glass trembling slightly in her fingers. Silver's paws barely made a sound against the ruined earth as they raced across the battlefield, her movements swift and deliberate.
She tilted the vial and trickled the orange liquid onto the ground, drop by drop. A small smile tugged at her lips. "I won't."
The amount seemed pitifully small.
But I knew firsthand—just a few drops were enough to set the world on fire.
Hogan clenched his axe so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"Fine," he gritted out. "What should I do?"
Connie, Hogan, and I all turned to Lance. The final battle had begun. I gripped my sword hilt. Just a week ago, Sir Lance had gifted me this blade.
Unofficially, I had gone from squire to knight.
Now? Now, I was going to prove I was worthy of becoming Royal Guard. A slow smile crept onto my face, even as the slime tide slithered closer.
This was war.
And we were going to win.
. . .
Fire.
That was the only thing that worked.
Swords and axes? Useless.
Cutting the purple ones created yellow ones.
Cutting the yellow ones created red ones.
Cutting the red ones created green ones.
And the green ones never disappeared. They just kept spreading.
The slime could only be defeated by fire.
"Hogan, left!" Lance barked.
Hogan swung his axe, its red-hot steel slicing clean through a charging slime, leaving a hissing scorch mark in its wake. The molten fire along its edge sizzled, blackening the ground beneath it.
Lance was still at the cannon, fumbling with the ancient mechanisms.
"Another one, axe boy!" Connie snarled.
She vaulted into the air, her powerful legs coiling before she drove her heel down—
CRACK.
The yellow blob exploded into smaller red and green slimes.
That was their strategy.
Lance had ordered Hogan to coat his axe in orange liquid before igniting it.
It was a risk. But a necessary one.
Hogan's swings burned through the smaller blobs, but he couldn't cut through the thicker ones.
If he sank his axe into a yellow or purple blob, the heat would die out instantly, leaving him vulnerable.
That's where Connie came in.
"Rah!"
Connie sprang into the air again, a blur of fur and motion, and brought her foot down hard—
BOOM.
Another yellow blob shattered, its remains shrinking into smaller red and green slimes.
Hogan was ready.
He swung his axe, the flames licking hungrily at the fragments.
The blobs burned to a husk.
Connie would break the slime apart. Hogan would finish the job.
The two of them fought like a single unit, keeping the slime army at bay while Meili finished preparing the fire trap.
Hogan jumped back as a massive tendril lashed toward him, narrowly dodging its gelatinous grip. He flipped his axe into his other hand like a game of hot potato, sweat dripping from his forehead.
They were holding their ground, but barely. The slime wasn't letting up. It was only getting stronger.
"How long until the cannon is ready, Lance?!" Hogan bellowed, twisting to glance back.
"Almost there," Lance grunted, shoving a third cannonball into the barrel.
The massive weapon groaned under its own weight. Old, but still functional.
"All we need now is Meili," Lance said, striking a match. "Once she gets back, we set the cage. Let's hope this cannon still works like it did back in the war."
It had blown a hole through the cave wall after sitting dormant for twenty years.
Yeah. It worked.
Hogan and Connie were on the verge of being overwhelmed. The slime tide surged forward, a writhing sea of colors, tendrils slamming into the dirt as they closed in.
Then—
Meili appeared.
Silver burst from the side, hooves kicking up dirt.
"All right, everybody fall back!" Lance roared.
Meili leapt into the trench, landing hard beside Connie's bunnies—who had wisely stayed out of the worst of the fight.
Hogan and Connie didn't hesitate. They turned and ran. With no resistance, the slime surged forward, eager to consume.
That was their mistake.
"Sir Kevin," Lance called, tossing me the match.
I grinned. "Yes, captain."
I flicked the match down—
WHOOSH.
Flames roared to life.
They shot up like pillars, taller than an ogre, racing along the invisible cage Meili had set.
The slime at the edges instantly fried to a crisp, their gelatinous bodies bursting and blackening.
The rest? They huddled together, pressing inward, trapped.
"Just a little of this juice made that much fire?" Hogan exhaled in awe, pressing his burnt hands into the cool dirt. "How does it feel to be the ones getting hunted now?"
But it wasn't over.
The Slime King moved. Its tendrils flexed, a slow, deliberate motion.
And then—It pushed forward.
Straight into the fire. The flames licked its massive bulk, the surface bubbling and hissing—
But it didn't stop. It was too big.
The smaller slimes melted instantly, but the King absorbed the heat, its body thick enough to take the brunt of it.
"Hogan, Kevin—PUSH!" Lance barked.
We dug our heels in, shoving the massive cannon into position.
"FIRE!"
Lance yanked the lever. The cannon roared. The force slammed me and Hogan onto the ground, dust and smoke filling the air.
Silence.
Then— "…No freaking way."
Connie's voice was low, almost disbelieving.
The smoke cleared. The cannonball had gone straight through the Slime King, splitting its mass wide open.
But the hole was closing. Fast.
The smaller slimes had been obliterated.
But the King? It was still standing.
And it was still coming.
"How… how are we even supposed to win?" Hogan whispered.
His jaw hung open, his fingers tightening around his axe.
We all stared. The gaping hole from the cannonball was nearly gone, its gelatinous mass knitting itself back together. Like the wound had never existed.
"We'll just have to try harder!" Lance barked.
He wasn't sure. Even I could tell.
Still, he forced us forward, shoving the cannon into a new position.
BOOM. Another shot.
We barely breathed as the second cannonball soared—
And sank straight into the Slime King's mass. Dissolved.
"We can still run away, right?" The thought came unbidden.
It wasn't the kind of thing a knight of PrideFall should think. But survival came before honor.
I turned slightly—just enough to glance at the open plains behind us. The fire was breaking. Slowly, but surely. If we ran now…
Would we even make it?
"Well, it was nice meeting you guys," Meili murmured with a sad smile. "At least I had a family for a little while."
"Don't. Say. That."
Connie's voice was tight, her molars grinding. Her gaze snapped to Lance. For a plan.
Even now—could he find a way?
"It's not over yet." Lance's voice was calm. Too calm.
I turned just in time to see him uncorking a vial—pouring the explosive liquid onto the cannonball.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Hogan's face drained of blood.
Lance's hands were steady. "The cannon itself won't kill it." He gestured to the regenerating slime. "It has to be burned down completely."
"No! That won't work! We'll kill ourselves!"
I was shouting. At Lance.
He didn't flinch. He simply took the matchbox from my hand. "Do not question your senior knight."
The slime surged closer.
It was now or never.
Connie, Hogan, Meili, Silver, Bacon, the remaining dozen rabbits—we all stepped back.
Lance alone remained. He pushed the cannon into place. Struck the match. Pulled the lever.
Everything went white.
My head throbbed. The world flickered in and out. Black spots danced in my vision.
I blinked. The cannon—
It was destroyed. The barrel split open, the wheels blown clean off. But the cannonball had fired.
A scorching trench carved across the battlefield, the very earth charred black.
The slime in its path? Gone. No remains. Not even a trace.
A hoarse voice rasped beside me.
"Did we… win?"
I turned. Hogan was slumped nearby, blood trailing from a deep gash on his forehead.
"Kevin, focus. Focus!"
I mentally reprimanded myself. I was a knight. I had to assess the damage.
Hogan's question hung in the air.
"Did we win?"
"Not exactly," Connie growled.
She'd been blown clear of the trench, scorched fur marking where the flames had grazed her. But she was standing.
I turned. Meili?
She was digging herself out of the dirt, dazed but alive. The animals, too—bruised, battered, but breathing.
Though… there were fewer rabbits than before.
Connie spat, ears flicking in frustration. "Makes you wonder if the dumb knight will get us killed before the slime does."
Lancelot. Where was—
There. He lay at the base of the shattered cannon.
My stomach twisted. His arm—Broken. Bone jutting through armor.
I swallowed bile. "Lance, are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he grit out.
A lie.
"The important thing is…" He exhaled sharply. "Did it work?"
I forced myself to look. The trench was scorched. The slime in the direct blast zone— obliterated.
But the rest?
"No. It didn't."
The horde still moved.
The Slime King loomed unstoppable. Pushing forward. Never stopping. Hopeless.
The word clawed at my throat.
We were just humans. What made us think we could win?
"How… how?" Lance's voice shook.
For the first time, he didn't look like Lancelot Lionheart. He didn't look like the strongest knight of PrideFall. He looked like us. Weak.
Then the ground trembled.
Not from the slime. Something else. A deep chorus of guttural squeals split the air.
Bacon oinked in response.
"What the hell?" Hogan muttered.
I dragged myself up—staggering, exhausted— and peered over the trench.
And my brain blanked. Wild hogs.
A stampede of them, charging through the wasteland. Completely out of place in this post-apocalyptic battlefield.
"What's happening?" Meili gasped.
Connie squinted, then—despite everything—grinned.
"That damn half-elf is happening."
The words barely registered. Then I looked closer.
A smaller hog led the charge. And riding it, her orange-brown hair whipping in the wind—
Was Fee.