The two of them began the trek back to Asher's house, which sat isolated at the very edge of the village, bordering the untamed wilderness. The setting sun was painting the sky in vibrant strokes of bruised purple and burning orange, casting long, stretching shadows of the two men across the dirt path.
Ewan walked a step behind Asher, occasionally glancing back over his shoulder. Trailing behind him was his faithful, chaotic entourage of Slimes. They were hopping along, struggling to keep up with the long strides of the humans, their "pew pew" sounds continuing as an endless stream of chatter.
To the naked ear, it sounded like random noise. But to Ewan, who shared a spiritual link with them, it was a full-blown gossip session. They thought they were whispering, but their telepathic voices rang clearly in his mind.
[Big Brother seems so different now, doesn't he?] Bubbly remarked. As the water elemental, it was fluid and quick, bouncing faster than the others.
[Yeah, way better than before. Back then, he didn't treat us nearly this well.] Dusty replied. Its metallic-hued body shimmered as it hopped.
Hearing this, Ewan's heart skipped a beat. Through Dusty's casual comment, he could piece together a fragmented picture of the past. It seemed that the original owner of this body, Basil Vance, or whatever name he had gone by, had treated these summoned creatures poorly.
[Right? Back then, he forced us to call him 'Master' all the time. He didn't love us at all. He just used us.] Another Slime chimed in.
[Do you think falling into the ocean makes humans better?]
[Must be. The seawater probably washed his morals clean. Or maybe the salt cured his brain.]
"..." Ewan walked in silence, his face twitching slightly. He had to admit, Dusty, the Metal Slime, had a tongue as sharp as the element it represented. The little creature had a knack for sarcasm that was both impressive and slightly terrifying.
While the other elemental Slimes were chattering away happily, Ewan noticed that the red jelly blob, Flarie, was moving sluggishly at the edge of the group. Unlike its usual energetic self, it wasn't bouncing. Instead, it was rolling along the ground like a deflated ball, looking thoroughly miserable. Occasionally, small wisps of steam would rise from its body, resembling a sulking child pouting in the corner.
It was clearly still upset about being scolded earlier.
Asher, despite walking ahead, had been keeping an eye on the group via his peripheral vision. He noticed the dejected state of the fire elemental. Flarie was the first Slime he had ever encountered, the one Ewan had saved from him, so he held a strange, subtle soft spot for the fiery little thing.
"What's wrong with him?" Asher asked, nodding toward the rolling red ball.
Ewan sighed softly: "Earlier, when that woman and her son were threatening me, Flarie sensed their malice. He got a bit impulsive and was about to attack them. I had to scold him to stop him. I think he's still feeling aggrieved about it."
Asher frowned slightly, a look of disapproval crossing his face, not at the Slime, but at the situation: "He just wanted to protect you. You shouldn't have been so hard on him."
"I wasn't trying to be mean." Ewan mumbled, feeling a pang of guilt. He stopped walking and turned around, crouching down to be on eye level with the creatures. He waved his hand gently. "Flarie... come here, buddy."
The red Slime paused its rolling. It looked at Ewan for a moment, its internal flames flickering uncertainly. Then, slowly, it rolled toward his feet before exerting enough force to bounce up, landing squarely in Ewan's open palm.
Immediate warmth flooded Ewan's hand. It wasn't a burning heat, but a cozy, radiating warmth characteristic of the fire element. Ewan used his thumb to stroke the creature's smooth, elastic surface, then leaned down to rub his cheek affectionately against its body.
"I didn't mean to blame you, Flarie. Don't be sad, okay?" Ewan whispered, his voice soft and soothing.]: "But you have to understand. The people here... they don't know what Slimes are. To them, anything with elemental power looks like a Star Beast. If you hurt a human, they will hunt you down. And if that happens, I won't be able to protect you. Do you understand?"
He lifted his head, looking at Asher with earnest eyes: "I don't want the villagers to think my Slimes are violent monsters that go around attacking people. They aren't Star Beasts. They are just... they're just like children. They're adorable, not dangerous."
Asher didn't respond immediately. He stood there, holding the wild game, watching the scene unfold. The sunset bathed Ewan in a golden halo, highlighting the genuine tenderness with which he held the creature. The way Ewan spoke to the Slime, not as a tool or a weapon, but as a companion worthy of respect and love, was something Asher hadn't seen often in this harsh world.
His grip on the hare loosened slightly, and the corners of his eyes, usually sharp and guarded, softened significantly. It was obvious that he understood exactly what Ewan was trying to say, and perhaps, he was seeing the young Omega in a light that was becoming increasingly favorable.
The journey back to the farmhouse was accompanied by the low, rhythmic hum of conversation and the soft thud of boots against the dirt path. By the time the silhouette of the house emerged from the twilight, Ewan had finally managed to placate Flarie. The little fire elemental had been sulking with a tenacity that rivaled a human child, but after enough coaxing and gentle strokes, its internal flame had brightened back to a cheerful orange.
Upon arriving at their destination, Asher Ryder wasted no time. His movements were efficient, practiced, and devoid of wasted energy, the hallmarks of a seasoned hunter. He took the wild hare and one of the pheasants, securing them in the wooden cages lined up against the side of the house. These would be kept alive for a few days to ensure fresh meat later in the week. The remaining pheasant, however, met a swift and merciful end as Asher prepared to dress it for their evening meal.
"What are you in the mood for?" Asher asked, holding the hefty pheasant by its legs: "Shall we roast it over the fire?"
Ewan looked at the pheasant. It was a magnificent specimen, plump and heavy with fat. His mind instantly wandered, not to the dry crackle of a roast, but to a memory from a time before he had a body, a time when he was merely a wandering consciousness observing the living.
"How about chicken soup?" Ewan suggested, his eyes lighting up slightly: "A pheasant this fatty... if we stew it, the broth will be incredibly rich. It would be a waste to let all those juices drip away into the fire."
He could almost see it in his mind's eye: a pot of golden, shimmering broth, the surface dotted with glistening circles of savory oil, the steam rising in curling ribbons. For a soul that had spent so long merely watching others eat, the prospect of finally tasting such a dish was overwhelming. Now that he possessed a physical form, the desire to sip that hot, savory liquid was a craving he couldn't ignore.
Asher listened, nodding slowly in agreement as he imagined the dish. Then, he paused, a rare look of uncertainty crossing his stoic features.
"...I don't know how to make chicken soup." The hunter admitted, his voice flat.