Morning traffic flowed through the square in noisy waves.
Merchants shouted prices, children darted between legs, wagon wheels rattled over cobblestone, and somewhere nearby a butcher was loudly arguing over the freshness of his own meat. It was ordinary human chaos—loud, crowded, alive.
Thalia moved through it without slowing.
Sora followed close behind, still occupied with the honey pastry in his hand and the ongoing revelation that human civilization had somehow made food this offensively enjoyable.
He was considering whether he could morally steal ten more when Thalia stopped.
Sora looked up.
Three cloaked men stood at the opposite side of the market.
Silver insignias gleamed at their collars.
Officials.
The central one stepped forward at once.
"Lady Thalia de Anastasia," he greeted, bowing his head.
Nearby heads turned at the title.
Royal names had a way of traveling.
"You found me," Thalia said.
"At last." The official produced a sealed parchment marked with crimson wax. "A summons from Her Majesty."
Sora swallowed the rest of the pastry quickly.
This seemed like one of those moments where chewing looked disrespectful.
Thalia took the parchment and broke the seal.
"The council requests your immediate return to the capital," the official continued. "Military command has convened. The clergy has convened. The remaining Heroes have convened."
Sora blinked.
Remaining Heroes.
Plural.
That thought had barely formed when the official looked at him.
"And this is?"
"He is with me," Thalia replied.
The official waited.
Thalia exhaled through her nose. "…My attendant."
Sora made a small wounded noise.
Thalia ignored him.
The official's brow furrowed, but before he could question further—
"Thalia."
The new voice sliced across the market.
People moved aside.
A woman in white and gold battle robes stepped through the crowd, pale braid over one shoulder, silver-scripted rings circling both wrists.
Her silver eyes landed on Sora.
Stopped.
The mana hit him like cold water.
Seraphine.
Another Hero.
He knew it instantly.
Her magic spread outward in invisible threads, touching everything in the square.
When those threads touched him, she went still.
"…What," she asked quietly, "is that."
Thalia shifted in front of him.
"He is with me."
"That is not human."
Silence rippled outward.
A merchant dropped a basket.
Seraphine lifted one glowing hand.
Thalia's fingers snapped to her sword. "Seraphine."
Too late.
"Celestial Insight."
Light burst.
Sora gasped as invasive magic tore through every layer of his mimic body.
A massive pane of glowing translucent script erupted above the center of the market.
Everyone looked.
Everyone saw.
STATUS APPRAISAL — TARGET ACQUIRED
Name: Sora
Race: Mutated Black Slime
Current Form: Human Mimicry (Incomplete)
Age Since Birth: 4 Months, 12 Days
Level: 97
Threat Classification: Irregular Evolutionary Hazard
Potential Growth Curve: Catastrophic
The square detonated.
"Monster!"
"Gods—"
"Level ninety-seven?!"
People screamed and shoved backward.
Stalls overturned.
Children cried.
Guards reached for weapons.
Sora stared upward, frozen.
Mutated Black Slime.
The words blazed like condemnation.
Four months old.
Catastrophic.
His throat tightened.
He barely registered the panic around him.
Then a shadow crossed the square.
Large.
Fast.
A shriek split the air.
Seraphine's head snapped upward first.
Thalia turned immediately.
Sora looked.
And saw wings.
A massive avian monster dove over the rooftops—a carrion drake, all hooked talons and ragged black feathers, its eyes crazed by the sudden eruption of mana from Seraphine's appraisal spell. The magic had drawn it like blood drew sharks.
People screamed louder.
The beast folded its wings and plunged directly into the square.
Its claws tore through a merchant awning, ripping cloth and wood apart in a rain of splinters.
Horses shrieked.
Humans scattered.
"MOVE!" Thalia shouted.
Too slow.
A little girl near the fountain had frozen completely.
Maybe seven years old.
Tiny.
Terrified.
Her legs would not obey.
The carrion drake turned its hooked beak toward her and lunged.
Time narrowed.
Sora moved.
No thought.
No debate.
Just movement.
Shadow burst beneath him.
He vanished.
Gasps tore through the square as he reappeared between the child and the descending beast.
The drake struck.
Sora threw both arms upward.
Claws slammed into him.
Pain ripped across his shoulders as talons dug through hoodie and flesh—
but he did not move.
His feet carved grooves into cobblestone from the force.
The little girl screamed behind him.
Sora's red eyes widened.
Then something feral flashed through them.
"Absolutely not."
Black mana exploded from his palms.
He grabbed the beast's forelimb.
And twisted.
A wet crack split the air.
The carrion drake shrieked.
Before it could recoil, Sora drove his other hand into its throat, shadow tendrils erupting from his fingers like spears.
Devour activated on instinct.
The monster convulsed.
Its mana drained visibly, black veins crawling under feather and skin.
Townspeople watched in stunned horror as a larger monster was consumed by the smaller one wearing glasses.
Within seconds the drake collapsed limp.
Sora hurled the corpse aside.
It crashed through a vegetable stall in a spray of cabbage.
Silence hit.
Utter.
Complete.
Dust drifted.
Feathers floated.
Sora stood in the middle of the ruined square breathing hard, blood dripping down both arms where talons had torn him open.
Behind him, the little girl was alive.
Unharmed.
Clutching the back of his hoodie with shaking hands.
Sora looked over one shoulder at her.
She stared up at him with enormous watery eyes.
He blinked.
Then looked at the entire square staring at him.
Then at the dead bird monster.
Then slowly down at the deep gashes in his own arms—
which were already visibly knitting shut.
He made a face.
"…This is not helping my image, is it."
No one answered.
Because no one knew how.
The appraisal screen above still declared him a catastrophic mutated black slime.
And yet that catastrophic mutated black slime had just planted himself between a child and a monster without hesitation.
Seraphine stared.
Thalia stared.
The officials looked like they wanted to resign from government.
The little girl, still clinging to Sora's hoodie, whispered in a trembling voice:
"Mama said heroes protect people."
Sora turned his head a little.
"…I am beginning to suspect everyone's definitions are broken."
Thalia closed her eyes briefly.
Seraphine lowered her glowing hand.
And across the market square, fear gave way to something far more dangerous:
uncertainty.
Because now no one knew what Sora was supposed to be.
"..... I might as well gain something out of this," Sora said, extending his hand towards the monster's carcass as black tendrils burst out and absorb the corpse into Sora, the status screen showing his increase from level 97 to 98.