Regulus completed the assimilation slowly. Not because he needed to, but because his mass demanded patience.
The shadow-saturated biomass of the fallen predator flowed into his quicksilver body in thick, resistant currents. Silver darkened as it absorbed the essence, slipping first into deep slate, then into an abyssal charcoal so dense it swallowed the ambient light. His form collapsed inward for a breath, compressing and rewriting itself from the inside out.
Crispin watched, unable to look away. The liquid silver snapped into a new architecture with a sound like distant stone settling.
Regulus rose.
He was no longer a sphere or a shifting mass. As a full Shadowmane, he stood with charcoal fur that was matte and heavy. His mane flowed like slow smoke in still air. He was large enough now that his head reached Crispin's chest. His paws were broad and solid against the churned earth.
For a long moment, he simply existed. Regulus lowered his massive head and sniffed Crispin.
The breath that washed over Crispin's hands was warm and alive, carrying the scent of stone-dust, shadow, and something unmistakably familiar. Before Crispin could react, a rough tongue dragged across his knuckles in a long, wet lick.
Crispin barked out a startled laugh. "Regy—!"
The Shadowmane's tail flicked once, pleased.
Ashara hovered forward, her golden wings beating the air into a shimmering haze. She circled Regulus once, curiosity bright in her movements, then leaned in and gently booped his large charcoal nose with her muzzle.
Regulus blinked, surprised. He huffed—a deep, vibrating sound that rippled through the ground—and nudged her back with exaggerated care. The golden dragon chirped in delight and darted upward, only to swoop down again and land briefly atop his mane before leaping away.
The two tames orbited each other instinctively, mirroring play without instruction or command.
Crispin felt something settle in his chest as he watched them. On the ground where the predator had fallen, the residue of the kill had crystallized.
A Class Change Gem lay half-buried in the dirt. Its surface was painfully bright, pulsing with an ultra-rare, iridescent sheen that bent the surrounding light. Beside it rested three large Heart Gems, each a solid block of translucent crystal.
Bethany pushed herself upright nearby, clutching Crispin's cloak tightly around her shredded dress. Her breath came in short, steady pulls as she took in the sight of the spoils. Her eyes glinted with immediate comprehension.
"Those are worth their weight in gold," she whispered.
Crispin felt heat rise into his face. He reached for the silver star-clasp at his shoulder, fumbling slightly as he undid it. He kept his eyes fixed on a nearby sun-crystal embedded in the rock wall, refusing to let them drift to the mauled silk of her gown as he held the heavy void-silk cloak out to her.
Bethany flushed a deep rose as she took it. "Oh… thank you, Crispin."
The Elder stepped forward then, his carved cane pressing into the earth as he knelt. His weathered fingers gathered the gems with practiced care. He weighed them briefly in his palm before offering one Heart Gem to Bethany and another to Crispin.
"Do you wish to sell the remaining Gem as well?" he asked, his gaze moving between them.
"No," Bethany said immediately. "Give it to Crispin."
Crispin's head snapped up. "No. We earned these things together."
Bethany didn't hesitate. "You think I don't know the shape of that bottle?" Her voice sharpened, mercantile instincts surfacing. "Elvish Lifeshade. Am I right?"
Crispin looked down at Regulus. The massive lion-head turned toward him. Charcoal mane shifted as Regulus gave a single, solemn nod.
"A bottle that size is worth about ten thousand gold," Bethany continued. "You know that, don't you?"
Crispin flushed deeper and couldn't answer.
"You won't treat me like a child, Crispin Thorneborn," she said firmly. "You shared something with me that would have paid for your family's survival for years. I refuse to dismiss that. You take the extra gem."
Silence stretched. Crispin's shoulders slumped. He bowed his head once and nodded. The Elder watched them with quiet approval before placing the second Gem into Crispin's hand.
The weight of the stone in Crispin's palm felt wrong. It was insistent, as if it carried a memory of every night his father had stayed awake staring at ledgers. He closed his fingers around it, then opened them again.
"We share the value of the Class Change Gem when it's sold," Crispin said at last. "Otherwise, I refuse to take either."
Bethany winced and nodded in recognition. "Fine," she said after a moment. "If we must."
"We really must," Crispin dropped to one knee beside Regulus. The Shadowmane's mane brushed Crispin's shoulder; charcoal fur was warm against his arm. "We agree, right, Regy?"
Regulus lowered his massive head until his brow rested briefly against Crispin's chest. He huffed—a low-frequency rumble that vibrated through the ground—and nodded once.
"Good," Crispin murmured.
Bethany watched the exchange quietly. She took her Gem, cradling it carefully. Crispin took his.
LEVEL UP: 5 → 6 (Crispin)
Level: 5 [430→10 / 1200]
Attributes:
Strength 12 | Dexterity 16→20 | Endurance 14→15
Perception 15→16 | Will 17
Ki: 40→45
LEVEL 6 (Regulus)
[640→652 / 1200]
MAS: 4 KG→ 12 KG | COH: 80 → 93 | ASC: 17 → 29
PRC: 43 → 61 | SPL: 4 → 12 | SPD: 12 → 32
His body now answered him more cleanly, more honestly. Crispin exhaled slowly and rose to his feet.
The walk back toward the village unfolded in quiet contrast to the violence of the hunt. Bethany kept the void-silk cloak wrapped tight around her shoulders. She walked a half-step closer to Crispin than was necessary.
Ahead of them, Regulus refused to return to his long form. He bounded through the tall grass in long, playful arcs. He would dash ahead, circle back, and leap again, tail flicking to test the limits of his new mass.
Ashara followed him relentlessly. She swooped down to land on his back, then sprang off again, wings flaring as she chirped. Regulus responded by rolling onto his side mid-leap, forcing her to scramble for balance.
"He's such a child," Bethany said, smiling.
"He's just a juvenile," Crispin replied.
The Elder walked beside them. "Emperor slimes?" he said thoughtfully. "It varies. Most reach full maturity around twenty years. Some take longer." He watched Regulus allow Ashara to land on his head before bounding away again. "He's probably about your age. Young. Trying to find his place in a world that wasn't built with him in mind."
As the village gates came into view, Regulus's pace changed. He stopped ranging ahead and drifted closer to Crispin's side. Villagers froze as they noticed the massive charcoal beast. Eyes widened. Hands tightened on tools. Xereniti reached out and rested his hand briefly against Regulus's hindquarters, fingers pressing into the dense fur.
The tension broke, and people relaxed. Whispers replaced alarm. Regulus huffed softly and continued walking at Crispin's side.
Bethany glanced at Crispin as the amphitheater came into view. "Let me do the talking," she whispered. "Are you comfortable with that?"
Crispin met her eyes and nodded. "I'm comfortable with it."
She squared her shoulders. They stepped forward together. The amphitheater turned into a wall of silence.
Regulus changed the space simply by existing. The Shadowmane's charcoal bulk filled the central aisle. His gaze moved calmly across the gathered faces, measuring without threat. Crispin felt the shift immediately. Not hostility—calculation.
Whispers moved through the crowd. Names surfaced. Titles. The word noble carried farther than the rest.
Bethany stepped forward. "I am Bethany Reni," she said clearly. "This is Ashara." She lifted her arm. The golden dragon whelp rose from her shoulder with a bright squeal. "I hear your whispers. I wish to address them."
She drew the cloak aside just long enough to reveal the jagged slashes in her gown before pulling it closed again. The effect was immediate. Lucien stared at the stone beneath his boots.
"Crispin and Regulus saved my life," Bethany said. Her voice cooled. "Had it not been for them, I would not be standing here."
A murmur rippled through the crowd until a voice cut through it. "You owe them no explanation, daughter."
Bethany's father stood near the back, face tight with restrained fear. Bethany turned toward him. "Nor am I offering one," she said. Her father sat.
Bethany faced the crowd once more. "I have heard what some of you said. About the smith's son. About his partner." She paused. "Know this. Any word spoken against Crispin Thorneborn or Regulus going forward is spoken against me."
She lifted Ashara higher. The golden dragon let out a piercing cry.
The whispers shifted. "I've always liked him," someone muttered. "Sure, he's a slime, but he's outstanding."
The Elder stepped forward. "Silence." The crowd obeyed. "Bethany chose the loot. Crispin, the next choice is yours. As each set of tamers secures their gems, we will pair them together for the next phase of training."
The amphitheater leaned inward. Crispin looked at Bethany, then at the crowd, and finally at Regulus. The Shadowmane did not look at the crowd. He looked only at Crispin, eyes steady, waiting.
"I think we work well as a team," Crispin said. "We stay paired."
Bethany nodded once, her smile warm and certain.
Regulus threw back his head and roared. The sound rolled through the amphitheater, deep and resonant. The roar faded, but its echo did not.
The Elder smiled faintly. "So be it. The pairing stands."
Bethany exhaled and reached out, resting her hand briefly on Crispin's forearm. "Thank you," she said softly.
Crispin nodded. "You didn't have to do that."
"Yes," Bethany replied. "I did."
Regulus remained at Crispin's side, massive and unbowed. Ashara landed atop his mane and promptly slid down his forehead with a squeal. Regulus shook his head gently, then lowered himself just enough for her to climb back up again.
The Elder watched them. "It's good," he said. "That they found each other early."
Crispin glanced at him. "The tames?"
"The tamers," Xereniti corrected. "And the tames. Bonds reinforce themselves when allowed to breathe."
As the amphitheater emptied, Bethany adjusted the cloak. "I should return home. My father will worry."
"I'll walk you part of the way," Crispin offered.
They started toward the outer terraces together. Gold and charcoal, wing and paw. At the edge of the amphitheater, Crispin paused and looked back. Lucien stood alone near the stone benches. His gaze met Crispin's for a brief, unguarded moment—resentment, but something else beneath it.
Calculation.
Crispin turned away. As they stepped into the light of the terraces, Bethany spoke again. "I know people will talk."
"They already were," Crispin said.
"Yes," she agreed. "But now they'll listen too."
Regulus huffed softly. Crispin rested his hand against the Shadowmane's neck. The fur was warm, solid, real. For the first time since the ceremony, the bond did not feel like a question.