Despite the exhaustion weighing on them, no one was willing to let their guard down completely. The day had been a brutal reminder that their survival was anything but guaranteed.
Victor stood near the entrance, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp, scanning the darkness beyond. He had taken the first watch without hesitation, his presence a silent reassurance to the others. The world outside was unpredictable, but Victor was constant, unwavering.
Inside, Sam and Walter sat together, going over the supplies they had managed to gather. Sam efficiently sorted through their meagre rations, mentally calculating how long they would last. Walter listened as Sam laid out a plan for the coming days, occasionally offering his own insights.
"We need to focus on sustainability," Sam murmured, noting down his thoughts his notebook. "Short-term survival isn't enough. We need food, water, and secure shelter that can last."
Walter nodded, stroking his chin. "And communication. AJ is an important part of this group—his abilities will be valuable. We need to find a way to communicate with him more effectively."
Across the cave, AJ rested near the far wall, the day's events finally catching up to him. He was mentally exhausted. He had spent the day struggling with his new form, his inability to communicate properly was a constant frustration, whilst also amplifying the feeling of being a burden. But tomorrow, he promised himself, he would change that. He would find a way to be useful.
Lily watched him from the corner of her eye. She had taken it upon herself to keep an eye on AJ, both out of sympathy and necessity. He was too vulnerable in his current state. He would be their biggest asset assuming he could gain control over his abilities and become strong enough to protect himself, but until then they would have to take care of him.
Maria sat apart from the others, her thoughts miles away. She was thinking of the children she had been separated from. She needed a plan to find them, and that would start with convincing the others to help her.
Ethan, on the other hand, had succumbed to exhaustion the moment he had laid down. His snores echoed faintly through the cave, a rare moment of unguarded vulnerability. He had spent the day hunting and moving nonstop. Combined with his first encounter with death and the violent nature of this new world, rest was a necessity.
As the night stretched on, the watch rotated. Ethan took over from Victor, then Lily, and finally Maria as dawn approached. The night passed without incident, the world outside remaining eerily quiet.
Morning came with the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the cave entrance. The group stirred, stretching sore limbs and shaking off lingering fatigue. Breakfast was simple—berries and the remains of the previous day's hunt, reheated over a small fire.
AJ felt different. The sleep had done him good, and for the first time since transforming, he felt something close to clarity. Today, he would gain more control over his body. He would stop being a burden.
After eating, they split into smaller teams, each with a task to accomplish.
Lily and Ethan ventured into the surrounding area, gathering edible plants and scouting for potential threats. Their search proved fruitful, and they returned with a small haul of food—nothing substantial, but enough to supplement their dwindling supplies.
Maria and Sam focused on medicinal herbs and materials to reinforce the cave. Sam meticulously documented each plant they found, noting its properties and potential uses, while Maria concentrated on gathering practical materials for reinforcing their shelter.
Victor and Walter remained behind, working to fortify the cave entrance. They set up rudimentary traps designed to deter predators, drawing on Walter's wide range of knowledge.
AJ, meanwhile, stayed near the cave, separate from the others, absorbed in his own struggle. Moving efficiently was still a challenge. His form lacked structure, and every movement required conscious effort to maintain balance. But he was determined. He couldn't keep falling behind.
At first, movement remained a frustrating, tedious process. Every attempt to push himself forward resulted in sluggish, uneven lurches or complete loss of control. His form wobbled unpredictably, parts of his body sticking to the ground whilst others slid.
The lack of limbs, muscle memory, or even a clear understanding of his own structure left him with nothing to rely on but raw instinct and experimentation. He tried rolling, stretching, even compressing himself into a denser shape, but nothing provided the smooth, consistent motion he needed.
As he sat in quiet frustration, a memory surfaced—his first moments as a slime. In the confusion of his transformation, he'd noticed something odd beneath him, a faintly slick substance spreading from his form.
At the time, he'd been too distracted to focus on it, forced to flee and hide before he could examine it further. But now, with time to think, he realised that substance might have been the key all along.
He concentrated, testing his control, and deliberately tried to recreate the sensation. Slowly, he exuded a thin layer of the strange liquid beneath him. The moment it spread across the surface, he felt the difference. Instead of gripping and dragging against the ground, his body shifted effortlessly over the slick surface. A cautious push forward sent him sliding a short distance.
Excitement surged through him. He refined the process, adjusting the consistency, making it thinner, more even. With each attempt, his speed increased, his movements becoming smoother, more fluid.
Soon, he wasn't just inching forward—he was gliding. For the first time since his transformation, he wasn't struggling to keep up. He moved with a speed that matched the others, no longer bound by the slow, awkward limitations that had frustrated him the day before. It wasn't perfect, but it was a breakthrough.
Encouraged by his progress, he turned his focus to consuming new materials. Moss and leaves were simple enough, dissolving easily into his form with barely any resistance. Their energy was weak, but the process felt natural, effortless. However, when he turned to denser, more complex materials—tree roots, bark, and small stones—the difference was immediate.
He attempted to absorb them, only to realise he could sense the energy inside, but accessing it was another matter entirely. Unlike the soft organic matter, these substances resisted him, their structures too rigid, too deeply ingrained with something he couldn't quite grasp.
Why is this so much harder? He could feel the energy locked within, just out of reach, but every attempt to extract it left him drained. He tried compressing the material within his form, grinding it down, but it barely helped. The stones sat stubbornly inside him and the roots took ages to dissolve. He knew the energy was there, he could feel it, but accessing it felt like trying to open a locked door without the key.
Still, he persisted. He started small, limiting himself to tiny fragments rather than whole pieces. The first few attempts left him exhausted, his form sluggish and unresponsive. But he noticed something—the second attempt took slightly less effort than the first, and the third was smoother still. The more he consumed, the easier it became. His body was adapting, learning how to process these materials more efficiently.
By midday, he could break down the outer layers of tree roots without struggle, the once-rigid fibres softening as his body worked on them. Stones remained a challenge, but even they were beginning to yield, their dense forms eroding bit by bit. It was slow, inefficient, and far from perfect, but it was progress. If I keep practicing, eventually I won't even notice the effort.
As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the cave entrance, AJ turned his focus to his final task of the day—producing material.
It was the most challenging part of his transformation so far, requiring not just physical effort but a deep, almost intuitive understanding of the energy within him. He settled into a spot just outside the cave, his gelatinous form rippling slightly as he concentrated.
First, he focused inward, trying to sense the raw energy he had absorbed throughout the day. It was a strange sensation, like holding a handful of sand and trying to sift through it grain by grain. The energy was there, but it was scattered, chaotic, and difficult to control. He visualised it as a swirling, amorphous mass, pulsing faintly within him. I managed to create a small bit of rock yesterday. If I can just gather it, shape it...
He directed his attention to a single point within his body, imagining the energy coalescing there. It was like trying to herd a flock of unruly birds—every time he thought he had a grip on it, the energy slipped away, dispersing back into the chaotic swirl.
Frustration bubbled up, but he pushed it aside. Patience. This isn't something I can force.
Slowly, he began to refine his approach. Instead of trying to control all the energy at once, he focused on small, manageable amounts. He pictured the texture of the moss he had consumed earlier—soft, fibrous, and pliable. The image helped anchor his thoughts, giving him a clear goal to work toward. If I can recreate that, even just a little...
He guided the energy toward the image in his mind, willing it to take shape. At first, nothing happened. The energy resisted, stubbornly refusing to conform to his will. But he persisted, adjusting his focus, trying different approaches. He imagined the moss not as a whole, but as individual strands, each one a thread of energy waiting to be woven together.
Gradually, he felt a shift. The energy began to respond, flowing more smoothly, more predictably. He could sense it taking shape, the faint outline of the moss forming within him.
But the process was far from easy. It felt like trying to mould clay with his mind, every movement requiring intense concentration and effort. His form rippled with the strain, the edges of his body trembling slightly.
I managed to brute force it before, but doing it efficiently is harder than I thought, he admitted to himself. The energy was slippery, unpredictable, and draining to manipulate.
Every second he spent shaping it left him feeling weaker, like he was pouring a part of himself into the material. But he couldn't stop now. He had come too far to give up.
He pushed harder, refining the image in his mind. The moss became clearer, more detailed—the soft texture, the faint green hue, the way it clung to surfaces. He poured his focus into it, willing the energy to match the image.
Slowly, painstakingly, the material began to form. It was crude at first, barely recognisable as moss, but it was a start.
The effort left him exhausted, his form sagging slightly as he released the energy. The small patch of moss he had created was rough and uneven, far from perfect, but it was real. He stared at it, a mix of pride and frustration swirling within him. It's not much, but it's something.
He knew there was plenty of room to refine the process, to make it more efficient and precise. For now, though, he had taken his first step. Tomorrow, he would do even better.