You know what they say about plans—they're great until someone with three-thousand-year-old grudges and the ability to set things on fire decides to ruin your day. Not that I knew about the Phoenix situation yet. I was too busy having what could only be described as the most productive research binge of either of my lives.
"System," I said, floating in what used to be the goblin general's tent but was now my temporary command center, "show me everything we know about this world's magical infrastructure."
The beauty of having a hive mind connected to over a million individuals was that research became less about finding information and more about organizing the absolutely staggering amount of data we'd already collected. Every slime that had absorbed a mage, scholar, or craftsman had contributed their knowledge to our collective understanding, creating a database that would make any university weep with envy.
[DISPLAYING MAGICAL INFRASTRUCTURE ANALYSIS...]
[CURRENT UNDERSTANDING: 67% COMPLETE]
[PRIMARY MAGICAL SYSTEMS: RUNIC, ELEMENTAL, DIVINE, NATURAL]
[MOST ADVANCED PRACTITIONERS: GNOMES (RUNIC), ELVES (NATURAL), DEMONS (DARK ARTS), DRAGONS (ELEMENTAL)]
"Gnomes," I mused, processing the information flowing through the hive mind. "Of course it's the gnomes. In every fantasy setting, it's always the short people who figure out the technical stuff first."
Through our network, I could access the memories of a slime who had absorbed a traveling merchant three weeks prior. The merchant had visited a gnome settlement and witnessed their incredible runic mastery—symbols carved into metal and stone that could store, channel, and manipulate magical energy with precision that bordered on the scientific.
"That's exactly what I need," I said, already formulating a plan. "If I'm going to create magical devices that work like modern technology, I need to understand how to make magic behave like electricity."
The gnome settlement was located in the Ironheart Mountains, a twelve-day journey from our current position. According to the merchant's memories, they were master craftsmen who valued innovation and were surprisingly open to trade, provided you could offer them something they'd never seen before.
Lucky for me, I had something no one in this world had ever seen before.
"Attention, Science Division," I broadcasted through the hive mind, "I need you to synthesize slime essence. But not the regular kind—I want the special variant."
Slime essence was something we'd discovered by accident when one of our scouts had been injured during a cave exploration. The essence that leaked from the wound had caused nearby rocks to freeze solid, then begin absorbing ambient magical energy at an incredible rate. Further experimentation had revealed that slime essence could affect solids, liquids, and gases in fascinating ways, essentially turning any material into a magical conductor and storage medium.
"Sir," came the response from several hundred slimes simultaneously, "how much essence do you require?"
"Enough to make the gnomes very, very interested in a long-term partnership," I replied. "And while you're at it, start working on samples that demonstrate different applications. I want to show them that this isn't just a novelty—it's a revolutionary material."
While the Science Division began their work, I turned my attention to the broader strategic situation. Through the hive mind, I could monitor the progress of our various projects simultaneously—a sensation that still felt like having multiple browsers open in my brain, except now I actually enjoyed the experience.
Our construction teams were making incredible progress on the capital city. The site we'd chosen was perfect: a natural valley with access to fresh water, defensible terrain, and proximity to major trade routes. What made it truly special was that we weren't just building on the land—we were integrating with it.
Slime construction techniques were unlike anything this world had ever seen. Instead of cutting stone and hauling materials, our builders could reshape themselves into any tool needed, then reform the landscape itself. We were creating a city that looked like it had grown naturally from the earth, with organic curves and flowing architecture that somehow managed to be both beautiful and incredibly functional.
"Progress report on the capital," I requested.
The response came as a flood of images and sensations through the hive mind. Streets that could adjust their width based on traffic needs. Buildings that could modify their internal structure to accommodate different species. Public spaces that could transform from markets to entertainment venues to emergency shelters as needed.
"Excellent," I said, watching through a thousand different perspectives as our vision took shape. "And the population situation?"
That was where things got interesting. We'd started with just the slimes, but word of our kingdom was spreading. Refugees from various conflicts, merchants seeking new opportunities, and simply curious individuals from dozens of different species were beginning to arrive at our borders.
"We're up to about fifteen thousand non-slime residents," came the report from our Immigration Division. "Mostly humans, some elves, a few dwarves, and a surprising number of what the locals call 'beast-kin'—people who are part animal."
"How are they adjusting to slime society?"
"Better than expected, sir. The fact that we can perfectly mimic their species for communication helps enormously. And our problem-solving abilities have made us quite popular. Yesterday, we helped a human family whose child was born with a magical condition that was slowly turning her to stone. One of our medical teams was able to absorb and neutralize the curse within hours."
I felt a warm feeling that I was pretty sure was pride. "Keep up the good work. And make sure everyone knows that we're not just building a kingdom—we're building a home for anyone who wants to be part of something new."
As I coordinated with various divisions of our growing civilization, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched. Not by our new citizens—they were mostly still in awe of our capabilities. This felt different. Older. More dangerous.
"System," I said, "run a scan for any unusual magical activity in the surrounding area."
[SCANNING... DETECTING DISTANT MAGICAL SIGNATURES...]
[WARNING: EXTREMELY POWERFUL ENTITIES DETECTED AT MAXIMUM SCAN RANGE]
[RECOMMENDATION: EXERCISE CAUTION]
"Extremely powerful entities, huh?" I mused. "Well, that's not ominous at all."
But I couldn't worry about distant threats when I had immediate opportunities to pursue. The slime essence samples were ready, and I had a trade negotiation to conduct.
[Phoenix Clan Territory - Council Chamber]
The ancient Phoenix stood before a scrying pool that showed images from across the dimensional barriers, his flames casting dancing shadows on the walls of the great chamber. Beside him, representatives from the other major clans watched with growing alarm as the magical construct displayed scenes from the growing slime kingdom.
"Look at them," growled the Dragon Clan Elder, his voice like grinding stone. "They build as if they own this world."
"Because they think they do," replied the Phoenix, his tone grim. "The Slime Progenitor was always ambitious. But this... this is beyond anything he attempted in the ancient times."
The Demon Lord's representative, a creature of shadow and malice that existed partially in this realm and partially in the Underworld, spoke with a voice like whispered threats. "The Dark Council is... intrigued by this development. Perhaps we can reach an arrangement."
"What kind of arrangement?" asked the Phoenix, though he already suspected he wouldn't like the answer.
"The slimes pose a threat to the natural order. Their ability to absorb and copy anything they encounter makes them inherently chaotic. The Underworld has resources that could prove... useful in containing this threat."
The Phoenix's flames flared brighter. He had hoped to handle this threat without resorting to such desperate measures, but the scrying pool showed a kingdom that was growing stronger by the day. Worse, it showed slimes beginning to interact peacefully with other species, trading knowledge and resources in ways that could fundamentally alter the balance of power in the world.
"What would the Dark Council require in return?" he asked reluctantly.
"Access," the demon replied simply. "When the Progenitor falls, we want first claim to his knowledge. The secrets of the hive mind, the techniques of absorption and replication... such power would be wasted if it simply died with him."
The Phoenix considered this. Trading with demons was always dangerous, but the alternative—allowing the Slime Progenitor to continue building his kingdom unchecked—seemed far worse.
"Very well," he said finally. "Contact your Council. Tell them the Phoenix Clan is willing to discuss terms."
As the demon's representative faded back into shadow, the Phoenix returned his attention to the scrying pool. In its depths, he could see the Slime Progenitor coordinating with his followers, building something that looked suspiciously like a civilization rather than a mere kingdom.
"Enjoy your moment of triumph, Progenitor," the Phoenix whispered to the image. "It will be your last."
[Back in Alex's Command Center]
I was putting the finishing touches on my trade proposal for the gnomes when something made me pause. It was like feeling someone walk over your grave, except the someone was made of fire and had a three-thousand-year-old grudge.
"Huh," I said to myself. "That's weird."
Through the hive mind, I could sense a few of my scouts reporting unusual magical disturbances in the far mountains. Nothing immediate, nothing threatening, but definitely something to keep an eye on.
"Add enhanced perimeter monitoring to our to-do list," I instructed the Security Division. "I have a feeling things are about to get more interesting around here."
But that was a problem for future Alex. Present Alex had gnomes to negotiate with and revolutionary technology to invent.
"Alright, everyone," I announced to the hive mind, "pack up the samples and prep the diplomatic team. We're going to go make some very short friends and revolutionize magical technology in the process."
As our diplomatic convoy began forming—a mix of slimes shaped like various species for cultural sensitivity, along with carefully prepared samples of our essence—I couldn't help but feel excited about what we were building.
Sure, there might be ancient cosmic entities plotting against us. Sure, we were probably disrupting thousands of years of established magical tradition. But for the first time in either of my lives, I was working on something that felt truly important.
"Time to see if the gnomes are ready for the future," I said, as our convoy set out for the Ironheart Mountains.
The gnome settlement of Ironforge was still three days away when I received the most interesting piece of intelligence our scouts had gathered in weeks. A slime operating near the Phoenix territories had intercepted a magical communication that made my non-existent blood run cold.
"Sir," came the report through the hive mind, "the Phoenix Clan is actively seeking allies against us. They've made contact with... entities from the Underworld."
I paused in my review of the trade samples, processing this information. "Entities from the Underworld? You mean demons?"
"Affirmative. The communication suggested a formal alliance in exchange for access to our technology and knowledge once we're... neutralized."
Well, that was concerning. I'd known that our rapid expansion and obvious power would eventually attract attention from the established powers, but I hadn't expected them to start recruiting literal demons quite this quickly.
"Increase surveillance on all known Phoenix territories," I instructed. "I want to know every move they make, every ally they contact, and every plan they discuss. And start working on defensive strategies. If they're bringing demons into this, we need to be prepared for magical warfare on a scale we haven't seen yet."
The thing about having a hive mind connected to over a million individuals is that you can have multiple existential crises simultaneously while still maintaining perfect operational efficiency. Part of me was worried about ancient cosmic entities plotting our destruction, while another part was excited about revolutionary magical technology, and yet another part was coordinating the construction of what was rapidly becoming the most advanced city in the known world.
"Speaking of the city," I said, switching my attention to our Construction Division, "how's progress on the capital?"
The response came as a flood of sensory data that would have overwhelmed a single consciousness but felt perfectly natural through our collective awareness. I could see through thousands of eyes as our city took shape in the valley we'd chosen for our capital.
It was magnificent.
The architecture was unlike anything this world had ever seen, flowing and organic yet clearly purposeful. Our buildings didn't just sit on the landscape—they grew from it, with slime construction techniques allowing for curves and shapes that would have been impossible with traditional materials. Streets could widen or narrow based on traffic needs. Public buildings could reconfigure their internal spaces for different functions. The entire city was essentially one massive, living organism disguised as urban planning.
"Population report," I requested.
"Currently at forty-three thousand residents," came the response from Immigration Services. "Thirty-eight thousand slimes, five thousand other species. We're averaging about two hundred new arrivals per day, mostly humans and beast-kin fleeing conflicts in the outer territories."
The integration challenges were fascinating from a sociological perspective. How do you create a society where one species can perfectly mimic all the others? How do you establish trust when your neighbors could theoretically absorb your memories and become you?
The answer, it turned out, was radical transparency combined with genuine helpfulness. Every non-slime resident was assigned a slime liaison who could take their form for perfect communication, but more importantly, every slime in the city was connected to the hive mind network that made deception practically impossible within our society.
"It's actually working better than I expected," reported our Social Integration Division. "The other species appreciate that we can't lie to them—when a slime says something, they know it represents the consensus of our entire society. And our problem-solving abilities have made us incredibly popular."
That was an understatement. Yesterday alone, our medical teams had cured seventeen different magical ailments, our construction crews had built custom homes for three different families with unusual space requirements, and our security forces had tracked down and returned a kidnapped child within four hours of receiving the report.
"We're not just building a kingdom," I mused to the hive mind. "We're building a utopia. And that terrifies me, because utopias tend to make enemies."
The irony wasn't lost on me. In my previous life, I'd been a cog in a corporate machine, debugging other people's code and dreaming of something more meaningful. Now I was literally the brain of a civilization, coordinating millions of individuals in the creation of something unprecedented, and ancient cosmic entities wanted to destroy us for it.
"Life is weird," I concluded.
The slime essence samples were ready for the gnome negotiations, carefully prepared to demonstrate maximum versatility and potential applications. We had samples that could enhance magical conductivity, others that could create temporary stasis fields, and a few that demonstrated the essence's ability to adapt to different magical systems entirely.
"Diplomatic team, prepare for departure," I announced. "We're going to go convince some very technical-minded gnomes that slime essence is the breakthrough they never knew they needed."
As our convoy formed up—carefully designed to show both our capabilities and our peaceful intentions—I couldn't help but think about the broader implications of what we were attempting. We weren't just trying to build an internet for a magical world. We were trying to fundamentally alter how this world's various species interacted with each other.
"System," I said as we began the journey to Ironforge, "calculate the probability that we can achieve our goals without triggering a continental war."
[CALCULATING... ANALYSIS COMPLETE]
[PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS WITHOUT MAJOR CONFLICT: 23.7%]
[RECOMMENDATION: PREPARE FOR MULTIPLE CONTINGENCIES]
"Twenty-three percent, huh?" I sighed through the hive mind connection. "Well, I've shipped code with worse odds of working."
The journey to the gnome settlement took us through some of the most beautiful landscape I'd seen in either of my lives. Rolling hills covered with flowers that glowed softly in the twilight, forests where the trees themselves were infused with magical energy, and streams that sparkled with what looked like liquid starlight.
It was the kind of world that made you understand why people wrote fantasy novels. Everything felt more vivid, more alive, more connected than anything I'd experienced on Earth. Magic wasn't just energy—it was the fundamental force that bound everything together, from the smallest blade of grass to the largest dragon soaring through the clouds above us.
"I can see why the Phoenix is so protective of this world," I admitted to myself. "If I'd lived here for three thousand years, I might not want some upstart slime god changing everything either."
But change was exactly what this world needed. I could see it in the way different species lived in isolation from each other, each group hoarding their knowledge and viewing outsiders with suspicion. I could see it in the inefficient communication systems that led to misunderstandings and conflicts. I could see it in the wasted potential of millions of intelligent beings who could accomplish incredible things if they could just find a way to work together.
"The internet isn't just about technology," I realized. "It's about connection. It's about breaking down the barriers that keep people apart and creating something bigger than the sum of its parts."
Which was exactly what we were doing with the Slime Kingdom, and exactly what the Phoenix Clan saw as a threat to the natural order.
"Well," I said as the mountains of the gnome territory came into view, "let's see if we can at least get the gnomes on our side before the ancient cosmic entities try to wipe us out."
The sight of Ironforge rising from the mountainside was enough to make even a slime appreciate good craftsmanship. The gnomes had built their city directly into the rock face, with elaborate mechanical systems visible through crystal windows and steam vents that suggested incredibly sophisticated engineering beneath the surface.
"Now that," I said with admiration, "is how you build a civilization that lasts."