Chapter 13: He's a little sluggish.

Player: Felicia Bludd

Location: World 1, High School Hallway

I like monsters. I like the beautiful paint of gore. Blood-curdling screams were lullabies to me. Human-killing monsters never really scared me — they enchanted me. Scary roars felt like invisible hugs. I like monsters. I loved monsters.

They were the only ones who truly understood me. People? Meh. Monsters? They got style. Bloody tutus? Check. Looks kind of scary? Check. The ability to make me question whether I should run or take selfies? Double check.

Sure, most folks ran from the unknown, but me? I was the one running towards it, probably yelling, “Wait, wait, can I get your autograph before you try to kill me?”

But in real life? A few of them kind of stink. Like this slug. He stinks. BIG time.

The slug flicked what might’ve been a tail — or maybe just a gooey lump — and Jeremy collapsed to the floor. Instantly. No scream, no fight. Just… dead.

Victor smiled, I bet he was thinking something like He deserved that. And thank goodness he's gone, I didn't want Pepper and Nameless to find reasons to ship us together.

I clenched my stake tighter, fingers digging into the splintered wood. The rough edges bit into my skin, but the pain grounded me—it reminded me I was still here, still fighting. Every muscle in my arm tensed, ready for whatever came next. My heart pounded like a war drum, echoing the fear and determination swirling inside me. This wasn’t just a weapon; this was style.

“Take this, you liar!” I shouted. “Pretending to be something powerful — something legendary — when you're just a slimy fraud!”

I swung my stake at him with everything I had.

The stake connected with a crack that echoed like someone dropping their phone on concrete for the hundredth time. Only this time, it was my stake that shattered. Half of it flew off like a failed DIY project, and I was left clutching a sad little splinter.

“Great,” I muttered, staring at my broken weapon as if it personally betrayed me. “Nothing says ‘monster slayer’ like wielding a toothpick.” my stake was broken.

Broken. Broken. Just like Jeremy, who died in the lamest way possible. And the slug was still alive. Its health bar was smaller than mine, but still there—like a reminder that even though I’m bigger, I can’t just pick on someone not my own size.

The slug, deciding to fight, slung slime in my direction.

I barely dodged it, twisting my body in a motion that would’ve made any dodgeball coach weep with pride. The goop slammed into the wall behind me with a loud schlop, sizzling as if someone had just hurled a grilled cheese sandwich into a volcano. The paint peeled instantly, and a foul stench rose—burnt plastic mixed with expired cafeteria meatloaf.

Steam hissed off the wall, and a chunk of plaster dribbled to the floor. I stared at the smoking crater, my mouth hanging open.

“Oh, we’re doing that now?” I shouted, already ducking a second glob that whizzed past my ear with a disgusting fwwppt noise. “Projectile mucus? Really mature!”

Victor started to run to the slug, but I grabbed his shirt—tight enough to stop him, but not enough to wrinkle it. Priorities. If I was going to die today, it wouldn’t be with guilt over ruining someone’s carefully ironed outfit.

“Don't worry,” I told him “I've got this. Just watch my amazing talents.”

Victor simply nodded and stepped back, edging closer to Glinda—unfortunately for him. The moment he entered her personal bubble, her head whipped around so fast you'd think someone had insulted her perfume.

He shuffled a few more steps away from her, eyes darting between the oozing slug and me. He looked nervous, but not useless—ready to jump in if things got worse, or at least ready to scream dramatically and add to the chaos. His gaze landed on mine, steady and a little worried.

I gave him a slight nod. If anyone was going to end this, it had to be me.

Huh, I thought. He's protective, but not over protective. Am I in heaven?

And then—splat!

A giant glob of slime smacked right onto my leg like a soggy slap from a haunted jellyfish.

“AAAAH! Gross!” I shrieked, hopping backward like I’d stepped on a Lego forged in the fires of Mount Doom. “It burns! It burns like expired cafeteria chili!”

Victor took one alarmed step forward, but I waved him off through gritted teeth. “No, no—don’t help! Just… keep admiring me from a respectful distance!”

I took off my shoe and threw it at the slug. For a split second, it froze — confusion written all over its slimy little face like I’d just asked it to solve advanced calculus. Perfect timing.

I grabbed Jeremy’s limp body, which was dead as dead, and slammed it down hard on the slug.

I heard Victor cheer at my use of Victor's corspe.

Jeremy, poor guy, had just been slug-smashed, but hey, he was accidentally the slug’s downfall. That’s one for the history books.

Silence fell. No more villainous chitter-chatter. No creepy slime-sounds.

Ha ha! Felicia: 1. Evil slug: 0. After this, I’d be partying like zombies after a brain buffet.

I crouched down, moving Jeremy’s body carefully to see if the slug was really gone or just playing possum with a flair for the dramatic. His gooey form lay motionless, steam rising from patches of his slime like he’d just come out of a villain-themed sauna. I squinted, half-expecting him to suddenly sit up and start monologuing again about destiny and unlimited power.

Nothing.

No twitch. No gurgle. Not even a sarcastic quip.

Still, I didn’t trust it. Monsters were trickier than cafeteria meatloaf—just when you thought they were dead, they’d burp up a final curse or sprout wings and try round two. I nudged the gooey remains with the edge of Jeremy’s sneaker, mentally apologizing to his ghost for turning him into a blunt instrument.

The slug didn’t respond.

“Okay,” I muttered, glancing around. “Either he’s really dead, or he’s waiting for an encore.”

The slug reared up, slime glistening. “Bwahaha!” it cackled. “Did you really think you could stomp me out?”

“Yes,” I said.

And I stomped him into the ground. (With the foot that still had a shoe.) I was done with this battle. It had gone on long enough.

The impact echoed like a thunderclap in an empty cathedral, a crushing symphony of victory and vengeance. Time seemed to slow, every grain of dust suspended midair as the world held its breath. The ground beneath us trembled, as if mourning the end of such a slimy, insidious foe.

His shell — that grotesque armor, gleaming slick and almost impenetrable — was hard enough to shatter splintered wood like brittle twigs under a storm’s wrath. Yet beneath that glossy fortress, his skin had to be soft, unprotected, and vulnerable.

I looked at Victor, who had a huge grin on his face. “Heh, heh, violence.” He said.

Nameless just shrugged, utterly unfazed. Pepper, on the other hand, was desperately covering her ears — not from the chaos of the battle, but because Glinda, standing right behind her, was unleashing the kind of shrill protest usually reserved for failed hair dye attempts or wrinkled designer jeans.

“Ewwwww!” Glinda screeched, her voice somehow managing to echo through the hall despite all the slime-sizzling, monster-roaring madness. She scrunched her nose like it was about to fall off. “That’s horrible! Where did you even get that idea? I’m disgusted. DISGUSTED! What’s on your shoe? It looks like—pooh! Pooh! Get your slimy feet away from me!”

She flailed her arms as if fending off invisible germs. “You could’ve at least worn cute boots to fight in! Ugh! This is why I don’t do monster blood. Or monster feet. Or monsters. Or feet!”

Pepper looked mildly traumatized. “She’s been using me as a shield for like three minutes straight,” she muttered through gritted teeth. “I think my soul just relocated.”

Glinda kept going. “Seriously, are we just ignoring the fact that something died on your foot? This is the most unhygienic thing I’ve ever seen. I need hand sanitizer for my eyes!”

“Pretty sure your eyes don’t have hands,” I muttered.

“They do now!” she snapped while looking at me with her very normal looking eyes. “Thanks to you!”

I sighed, knowing exactly how she’d react. Maybe it was for the best—she needed to see what monster hunting really looked like. When she eventually gets thrown to the zombies and becomes one herself, she’ll probably experience monster hunting firsthand. Hopefully, that will give her a better appreciation for the messiness of it all.

I lifted my foot, thinking, It’s probably not that bad. But to my surprise, it wasn’t my slimy shoe I was staring at—it was the slug.

The slug smiled up at me. He looked untouched.

Blood-flavored ice cream melting on a sidewalk wasn’t nearly as annoying as this.

“Come at me again,” the slimy creature sneered. “You could even swing the broken pieces of your stake.”

He oozed forward, dripping malice with every inch, his gelatinous form pulsing with chaotic energy. The cracked tiles beneath him hissed as slime met grout. His glowing eyes narrowed, daring me to make a move.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“What do you want?” I asked, raising what remained of my splintered stake, now more decorative than deadly. “The death of a human? Bloody bones? A masquerade? No. You’re more disgusting than that. You just want to be the most popular kid in school, you evil, devile liquid being!”

A nearby student gasped and whispered, “He does look like the kind of guy who’d sabotage the yearbook to get on the cover.”

“No, I don’t want some kid’s dream,” said the slug, slinking closer, slime trailing behind him like a dramatic villain’s cape. “Everybody knows the one who kills you will gain immortality.”

“You what?” I froze. “I didn’t know that. And everybody means everybody! That would include me!” I turned toward one of the classmates who was livestreaming the fight with the enthusiasm of a true gossip gremlin. “Did you know that if you killed me, you’d get unlimited powers? No? Didn’t think so.”

The classmate shrugged. “Honestly, I just came for the slime violence.”

The slug's grin stretched so wide, it looked like it might slip right off his face and flop to the floor. “Foolish, foolish mortals—you haven’t even read the prophecy! Well no matter, I can still kill you.”

Realization hit me like lightning, as if I were Frankenstein’s monster.

“You’re an idiot,” I said.

“No, I’m not!” the slimy slug snapped. “Would an idiot shoot fireballs from his mouth?”

Then he spewed out glowing red orbs—yes, red fireballs—like a sloppy fireworks show gone rogue, each one wobbling in the air as if they were unsure whether to burn me or ask for a hug.

“An idiot would announce their plans to the whole world,” I said. “An idiot would tell all the watchers, streamers, and the entire internet that if I were killed, the murderer would gain unlimited powers. Saying your plans out loud like some anime villain just makes you look like a fool in real life!”

“Nah,” the slug said. “I was just developed that way.”

The red orbs started rolling toward me. I needed to check their health to see if I could defeat them. Should I touch the fireballs and see their stats? No, better not—I’d just assume I could handle them.

I grabbed the half of the stake I still had. I slammed it into one of the glowing red balls. It burst into flames with a satisfying whoosh. I dropped the stake as if it had just given me a mild electric shock, my hand still tingling from the unexpected heat. “Yeah, that’s probably not great for me,” I muttered, waving my hand like it was trying to shake off a swarm of angry bees.

“This might be wrong, but I don’t think your stake is the best weapon for this,” Victor said.

I threw the other half of the stake at the balls, just adding fuel to the fire.

The balls kept rolling closer and closer, relentless in their slow, inevitable approach. The slug continued to spew them out, each one glowing brighter and hotter than the last, as if fueled by some endless, fiery spite. Suddenly, one of the glowing orbs leapt onto my leg with a sudden, searing touch. Pain shot through me—the very same ball I had stabbed moments before had returned to punish me, burning fiercely against my skin and sending a sharp sting that demanded immediate attention.

Fireball

Health: 3

Info: These days you’ll get canceled for looking at balls on your phone. Or beloved. Either one.

If you kill the spell caster then the fireballs will disappear. Also any damage caused by it or slime will be healed after this guy's death. Please go ahead and kill him, this guy's getting on my nerves.

My legs were on fire—figuratively and literally. The scorched patch of skin throbbed with every heartbeat, the pain pulsing like it had its own drum solo. I clenched my fist and, in a burst of pure adrenaline-fueled impulse, punched the flaming orb attached to my leg. Instantly, heat seared into my knuckles, the flesh singing with agony, but the glowing menace fizzled out on contact and disappeared in a small pop of smoke and embarrassment.

Unfortunately, that tiny victory didn’t last. More of the fiery projectiles were creeping toward me, rolling with the confidence of bowling balls that knew they'd score a strike—me. Their crimson light painted the hallway in ominous flickers, and every inch they advanced felt like a countdown to spontaneous combustion.

“What are you going to do?” Pepper looked at me. “What are you going to do?”

“Run!” I shouted back.

I sprinted down the hallway, heart pounding like a drumline, weaving past students who were too busy stuffing popcorn into their mouths to runaway from the danger. The blazing fireballs rolled behind me, crashing into lockers with explosive clangs that rattled the walls and sent shards of paint flying. A stray orb narrowly missed a group of screaming freshmen, leaving a sizzling scorch mark on the floor where they’d just stood.

Smoke curled up from the scorched tiles, and the smell of burning plastic filled the air. My lungs burned with each gasp of breath, and every step felt like a desperate gamble—one wrong move, and I’d be a human torch. The slug’s relentless assault echoed behind me, a sinister laughter carried on the heat waves.

Then, finally, I burst through the door and slammed it shut behind me, the cool air of the science classroom washing over me like a small miracle.

I made it to science class.

“Deepika! Deepika!” I called out, my voice bouncing off the cold, sterile walls of the science lab. I spotted her near the back, calmly stuffing strange little packets and twigs into a worn canvas bag with a look of practiced efficiency.

“Hidy ho,” Deepika replied without looking up, clearly used to my sudden outbursts. She kept her hands busy, expertly packing what looked like fire starters and other suspiciously flammable materials into her bag.

“Do you still have that snack box?” I asked, trying not to sound desperate but probably failing spectacularly.

“Of course I do! To keep away that hunger that haunts you!” she said with a grin, pulling the snack bag out of her purse as if it were some kind of secret weapon. The bag was crammed full of all sorts of weird things—little bundles of kindling, firelighters, and a suspicious number of candy bars.

“Right. Thanks so much,” I said, feeling a little better just seeing her there. “You almost make me happier than seeing Umbridge get what she deserved.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet,” she said with a grin.

I turned to leave, then paused mid-step. “Wait… why are you packing fire starters, exactly?”

“To prepare for Frankenstein’s return,” she replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Ah. Of course,” I said, nodding slowly. “Well, do try not to get arrested for arson.”

I stepped out of the science classroom—and there he was. The slug stood right outside the door, waiting.

“Thought you could escape?” the slug shouted.

“No!” I yelled back. “I didn’t think I could escape—I know I can defeat you!”

“Oh yeah?” the slug sneered. “Then taste what I’m tasting… fireballs!”

He started barfing up red balls again, each one glowing with heat and menace.

I remembered when Deepika had asked if I wanted anything from her snack box way back in Chapter 1. At the time, I thought she was just being overly prepared or maybe a little obsessed with not eating non pickled snacks. Now, I desperately hoped that box still contained whatever munchies I needed to survive this slug showdown.

With no time to waste, I ripped open the bag with all the grace of a tornado in a candy store. My fingers fumbled through the chaos until they landed on a crunchy, salty treasure—pretzels. I grabbed a handful and flung them at the slug, hoping the salty assault would do more than just confuse it.

The slug’s slimy expression twisted into what might’ve been pain or pure disgust—either way, it wasn’t a good look.

“No! No! That stings! I’m melting—melting!” the slug screeched.

He wasn’t actually melting—just in pain. Slugs react badly to salt, and you know what’s covered in salt? Pretzels.

All the balls vanished.

The slug collapsed with a squelch. I stepped closer and touched him. Letters appeared above his body, floating in the air like something out of a video game:

Level Up: Slug

Health: 0

I smiled. He was dead. The very D-E-A-D.

“Woohoo! You defeated the monster!” Pepper shouted.

The students had apparently followed the slug right to me—probably just to watch the bloodbath. I couldn’t really blame them. I would’ve done the same.

“Now we don’t have to worry about slugs killing us like they did Jeremy,” Victor said.

“Well, that slug—maybe. But not all slugs. And not all monsters. Monsters attacking me is kind of a daily thing.”

“But wait,” Glinda whined, “I’m going to live with this nightmare. Me. Did you hear that? I will be having nightmares. I will.”

“Yes. Loud and clear,” I replied, barely hiding my amusement at her theatrical despair.

“And you’re not even a little bit distressed?” she asked, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Not really,” I said, shrugging. “Honestly, I think I’m more annoyed than scared.”

“Oh, I see,” Glinda said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “You can’t hear me with slime in your ears.”

“I don’t have slime in my ears,” I shot back, glancing at her with a smirk. “Also, you’re already healed from any damage the slug did. Its attacks seem to only cause temporary harm to humans. Me, on the other hand...” I trailed off, bending down to look at the angry red burns on my leg. Hopefully, Lisa could work her magic and patch me up before the pain got unbearable.

Glinda’s face scrunched up in disgust, but I just sighed. Monster hunting wasn’t for the faint of heart—or the easily grossed out.

Glinda huffed. “I’m the one who's going to be having nightmares. Not Susie, not Tom. Me. My favorite two letters—M. E. And you could ruin them. Just a little bit.”

“You know what?” I said, trying to keep a straight face. “After I kill a monster, everyone who isn’t from Monster Land forgets the monster ever existed. So, everyone but me will forget this slug even existed.”

“That means you’re from Monster Land?” she asked, narrowing her eyes, suspicion mixing with fascination.

“It does. And it also means you’ll forget,” I said, feeling a little smug.

“Oh. And I won’t have any nightmares? If only I could remember that you actually care…”

“I mean, I sometimes care about people,” I admitted, trying to sound sincere.

“No, no, silly girl. Not people. Me. M. E.”

“Right. I should’ve known,” I muttered under my breath.

“Maybe it’s for the best that I forget. You’re not anything special. The only special person is me. And the only thing worth remembering is a memory with me. M. E. And sadly this memory revolves too much around you.”

At that moment, I kind of regretted not throwing her into one of the slug’s fireballs.

Glinda bounced over to her favorite human shield, Pepper.

“You’re from Monster Land?” Victor turned to me.

“Well, I would presume so,” I said, trying to sound confident even though I wasn’t entirely sure if presuming counted as knowing.

“How do you know everyone forgets?” he pressed, genuinely curious.

“From experience. I mean, duh. When you talk about how a werewolf ate all the tacos last Tuesday and the students don’t even remember the tacos — I mean, who forgets tacos?” I said, raising my eyebrows as if that alone should prove my point.

“Yeah, but how do you know they have to be from Monster Land to remember? Why can’t it be monster hunters and monsters? And where is Monster Land anyway?” Victor rattled off, firing questions like a rapid-fire trivia host.

“You ask a lot of questions for someone who’s going to forget all of this in a few minutes.”

“I could write it down.” Victor dashed into the science classroom, urgency in every step. “I don’t want to lose any memory with you in it.”

I followed him inside. Deepika was busy packing vials and strange little bottles into her backpack, her expression calm as if she was preparing for a casual picnic instead of a monster apocalypse.

I called after Victor, “You just haven’t had a bad one yet.”

He paused, turning to look at me with those big, earnest eyes. “Everything about this experience has been bad. I saw someone purposely shove you. All of it was awful except seeing you—and you fought back. And Jeremy dying. He deserved that.”

“Yeah, but you barely know me.”

“Oh, I know you.”

“How?”

“Because from the moment I saw you—”

“A week ago.”

“Yes, just a week ago. I knew I loved you at first sight. I had to learn everything about you, but I couldn’t.”

Victor found his desk, dropped his backpack with a dramatic thud, and grabbed a pen and paper, as if preparing for the most important test of his life.

He began writing, his voice soft but certain. “I couldn’t know, but I can now.”

I staired at Victor. Tears came to my eyes as I thought about how he was nothing like Bob.

“Ew!” Glinda yelled, scrunching up her nose like she’d just smelled something rotten. “Why are your shoes so slimy? That’s disgusting and putrid!”

“Because of the slug,” I said, waving my foot like it was a gross science experiment gone wrong.

“What slug? Did you sleep with one? That’s horrific,” Glinda gasped.

Sigh. Everybody forgot. As usual.

“No, I… I stepped on one,” I muttered, feeling both embarrassed and oddly proud of my slug-slaying skills.

“Ew. That’s worse,” Glinda shot back.

“You know, I kind of disagree with that,” Victor said, adjusting his jacket like he was about to drop some deep philosophical truth. “Stepping on a slug is a natural act of violence. If Felicia woke up one day and decided to kill a slug for fun, that’s her decision to make.”

Sigh. He’s forgotten too. Is this my life? Risking it all to save people who won’t even remember what I risked it for. Even my psycho boyfriend doesn’t remember why I killed the slug. He probably didn’t have time to write everything down.

Sometimes, it feels like I’m fighting in a story only I can remember, a lonely hero in a world that moves on without me. The pain, the danger, the sacrifices — all vanish from everyone’s minds as if they were never real. And here I am, left with the memories that haunt me alone.

I glance down at my burning leg, a fading reminder of what just happened. A small, stubborn scar to mark the battle no one will ever recall. Maybe that’s the curse of being from Monster Land — forever caught between two worlds, fighting monsters no one else will ever know existed.

And yet, despite it all, I know I have to keep going. Because if I don’t fight, who will? Even if no one remembers. Even if I’m the only one who does.

With a deep breath, I steel myself for whatever comes next — alone, forgotten, but unbroken.