Control
ARROW KEYS = MOVEMENT R = RESTART LEVEL F11 = FULLSCREEN
c
The sticky squelch of moss underfoot echoed through the mist-choked forest as Eli pressed forward, his gelatinous body quivering with each step. Rain hissed through the canopy, pooling in the emerald hollows of his translucent form. He’d never ventured this far from the Glowmire—never *needed* to—but the whispers gnawing at his core left no choice. They’d started as faint tremors, vibrations in the algae-streaked puddles he called home. Now they thrummed in his veins, a discordant hum only dampened by the strange amulet half-buried in his grip. Its edges bit into his palm, metallic and cold despite the humid air. Shadows coiled around gnarled oaks ahead, but Eli didn’t slow. Normal slimes avoided the Blackroot Woods—stories of bone-dry fissures and amber-eyed predators saw to that. But normal slimes didn’t dream in fractured visions of crumbling spires or hear voices rasping in dead languages. The amulet’s sigil pulsed faintly, casting jade light over a claw-marked trail. His instincts screamed to retreat, to dissolve into the nearest creek and let the current carry him home. Instead, he pushed onward, droplets of himself scattering like living mercury. The first arrow struck without sound. It jutted from his side, its obsidian tip sizzling where it pierced his membrane. Eli froze, acid-green essence leaking down the shaft. A figure dropped from the branches, leathers blending into the gloom. “A walking puddle,” the hunter sneered, nocking another arrow. “Think you’re the first monster to chase that relic’s song?” Eli’s form rippled, pain and panic warping his shape. He’d never fought—never even *touched* another being. But as the archer drew back the bowstring, the amulet flared. Heat exploded through Eli’s core, and without thinking, he lunged. The forest erupted in emerald light.
