This poor, poor slime. What has become of its existence? Well-fed and supported by its own cult now, it has only strife to contend with.
In darkness light, and in light darkness. As humans fear that which they do not understand, so the things they do not understand fear them.
How much philosophy is this nightmare of a slime going to learn? Who knows—maybe it should try eating more philosophers?
This is the last chapter of this. If I try to tell more, I'll be sucked into all that worldbuilding and will be at risk of telling my friend's story for them. I hope you enjoyed this little glimpse at their world through the eyes of a monster.
How do these keep happening? Once again, dear readers, I warmed up my day of writing (in this case some adorably gay clopfic) by writing mentally-twisting horror.
Questions abound as to why I keep this story going, or how long it will last, but if you like reading about dark things exploring the world, this might be fore you.
\W(his|her|him|hers|man|woman|he)\W
I am learning to hate that regex because it finds the mistakes I make in this story.
The big day is here. Mimic slimes were not built for this level of obligation, but our protagonist is a paragon among its kind now. How will it handle the end of civilization?