The Forest of Jura was exactly as I remembered it, yet fundamentally different. In Loop 01, it was a place of wonder—a vibrant, terrifying mystery where every rustle in the ferns was a potential death sentence. Now, as I slid through the undergrowth with Fenris pacing silently at my side, it felt like a game board I had already memorized.
I knew that in exactly three days, the "Fang-Pack" of Direwolves would descend on the central Goblin village. I knew that the village, led by a Chief who was too kind for his own good, would attempt a desperate defense and lose nearly half their population before I "miraculously" intervened.
I wasn't looking for a miracle this time. I was looking for efficiency.
"Fenris," I pulsed through our [Link-Communication]. "The wind is shifting. The pack is circling the northern ridge. They're hungry, but they're not desperate yet. We hit them now, before they can gather momentum."
"As you command, Master," Fenris replied, his thoughts a razor-sharp edge of anticipation. "Shall I tear the Alpha's throat, or do you wish to 'study' them first?"
"Neither," I said, my core glowing a dull, predatory violet. "We're going to show them that there is a bigger monster in the woods."
We reached the Goblin village by midday. It was a pathetic sight—a cluster of straw-and-mud hovels that offered as much protection as a wet paper bag. In the first loop, I had spent weeks here, playing the "Gentle Savior," teaching them how to weave and farm. I had loved these people. Seeing them now, oblivious to the slaughter coming for them, sent a pang of grief through my emotional dampeners.
I didn't wait for them to find me. I slid into the center of the village clearing, my silver body expanding until I was the size of a carriage.
"Chief!" I boomed, my voice vibrating the very air.
The Goblins tumbled out of their huts, spears shaking in their hands. The Chief—younger, stronger, but still possessing those same honest eyes—stepped forward.
"A... a Spirit Slime? And a Moon-Wolf?" he stammered, his knees knocking. "Great Ones, we have no tribute for you. Our stores are empty."
"I don't want your food, Chief," I said, the vibrations of my voice knocking a loose piece of thatch from a nearby roof. "I want your lives. Because in seventy-two hours, the Fang-Pack will come, and they will turn this clearing into a slaughterhouse."
The Goblins began to murmur in terror. "How... how could you know this?" the Chief asked.
I didn't waste time explaining the concept of a temporal loop. Instead, I used [Link-Communication] to force a "Vision" into his mind. I showed him the burning huts. I showed him the red eyes of the wolves in the dark. I showed him the specific moment in the first loop where he had died protecting a child.
The Chief collapsed to his knees, his face pale. He looked at me not with worship, but with the hollow stare of a man who had just seen his own ghost.
"The mountain to the Northeast," I commanded. "The Iron-Crag. It is dangerous, but it is defensible. You have two hours to pack what you can carry. Anyone left in this forest by sunset is a corpse."
"But the Miasma—"
"The Miasma is my concern," I interrupted, my core flashing. "Move. Now."
I watched them scramble. It was chaotic, messy, and inefficient, but it was working. For the first time, the "Fixed Point" of the Goblin Massacre was being erased from the ledger of fate.
"Fenris, they're moving. Now, let's go deal with the competition."
The Fang-Pack was thirty strong. In my first loop, they were a terrifying force of nature—A-Rank threats that required every bit of my tactical genius to outmaneuver. In this loop, they were a physics problem.
We found them in the "Gorge of Whispers," a narrow canyon that acted as a natural wind tunnel. The Alpha, a scarred beast with matted black fur and eyes that burned with a corrupted mana, was feeding on a forest elk. He looked up as we entered the gorge, a low growl vibrating in his chest.
"A traitor," the Alpha's mind-pulse hissed, directed at Fenris. "And a silver snack. You enter our den to die?"
"I'm not here to die," I said. "And I'm not here to talk."
In Loop 01, I would have used fire or acid. But those are messy. They leave survivors. They create heat signatures that the Holy Kingdom's scouts can track.
"Archivist. Calculate the resonant frequency of the canyon walls. Match to the internal ear structure of the Canis Lupus genus."
< Calculation Complete. Initiating [Infrasonic Resonance]. >
I didn't make a sound that a human—or a wolf—could hear. Instead, I began to vibrate my entire mass at a frequency of 7 Hertz.
To a casual observer, it looked like I was just sitting there. But the physics were devastating.
The wolves began to whine. Then they began to stagger. The infrasonic waves were vibrating the fluid in their inner ears, destroying their sense of balance. It was like the worst case of vertigo imaginable, amplified by the natural acoustics of the gorge.
The Alpha tried to lunge, but his legs gave out. He vomited, his eyes rolling back in his head. The "Fang-Pack" was reduced to a group of whimpering, retching animals in less than sixty seconds.
"Master," Fenris thought, his own ears pinned back in discomfort. "This is... a cold way to fight."
"Efficiency is cold, Fenris," I replied.
I slid toward the Alpha. I didn't kill him. Instead, I used [Gluttonous Synthesis]. I didn't consume his body; I consumed his Will. I reached into his mind through the mana-link and overwrote his predatory instinct with a single command: OBEY.
< Skill Acquired: [Pack Authority]. > < Status: The Fang-Pack has been integrated into the Hive Mind. >
I stopped the vibration. The wolves lay on the ground, gasping for air, their red eyes now glowing with the same violet hue as my core.
"Stand up," I commanded.
Thirty wolves rose as one. There was no growling. No snapping. They moved with the synchronized precision of machines.
"You are the vanguard," I said. "You will scout the borders. You will ensure that no human scout enters the Jura Forest without my knowledge. And if you find a white crow... you bring it to me alive."
By sunset, the Forest of Jura was a ghost town.
The Goblins were marching toward the Iron-Crag, escorted by a silent, terrifying pack of wolves that should have been eating them. I watched them from a high ridge, my silver form reflecting the orange glow of the setting sun.
In the first loop, this forest had been my home. It was where I had learned to love this world. Now, it was just a buffer zone—an empty space on a map designed to hide my true intentions.
"Archivist, status of the evacuation?"
< 98% of the 'Jura Outcasts' have crossed the perimeter of the Iron-Crag. Total casualties: 0. Time saved compared to Loop 01: 4 months. >
"And the Holy Kingdom?"
< A scouting party is scheduled to reach the forest in ten days. They will find an empty ecosystem. Their 'Prophecy' will begin to desynchronize with reality. >
"Good," I thought. "Let them chase ghosts. We have a mountain to turn into a fortress."
I turned away from the forest, my silver body shimmering as I prepared to move. I wasn't just a slime anymore. I was the ghost that haunted the Holy Kingdom's future.
"Fenris, let's go meet the dwarf. I have a feeling Baron is going to be much more cooperative when I tell him exactly where the Starmetal is hidden."
[Volume 2: Chapter 2 End]