The autumn wind blew, carrying the unique dampness of the Swamp Forest. At the head of the procession, Turk instinctively pulled his thick beast-hide coat tighter. ’According to the location Mr. Pu Mu mentioned,’ he thought, ’Mudu shouldn’t be far now.’
Oldes didn’t ask any more questions. Too much talking could expose his deliberately crafted disguise.
He simply continued to lie ’weakly’ on the flatbed cart, covered by a rough but warm burlap cloth a kind Lizardman had offered him. With his eyes half-closed, he looked like a genuinely exhausted old tree spirit, quietly awaiting the appearance of the ’Royal Capital’ they spoke of.
’How big could a city built by Slimes be? The size of a small human border town at best,’ Oldes thought dismissively.
’He really couldn’t imagine what kind of decent structures those soft, bouncy little things could build. They were probably just crude nests, haphazardly slapped together with mud, branches, and their own secretions.’
He kept his eyes half-closed, letting his mind wander and enjoying the long-overdue peace of the journey. The slow, rhythmic pace of the pack beast, the rustle of the wheels over fallen leaves, and the low chatter of the Lizardmen mixed with the cool, dry autumn air, creating a relaxing atmosphere.
’When was the last time I just lounged around like this?’ Oldes mused.
’A hundred years ago? Two hundred? Sigh. When you get old, some things just become a blur.’
Ever since the Sages’ Association suffered that devastating internal conflict and betrayal, he had barely had a moment’s rest. He had to immerse himself in studying the ancient, obscure Ancient Tree Runes while remaining ever-vigilant against a potential invasion from the City of Burning...
This ’expedition,’ while technically an investigative mission, was turning out to be a rare chance for Oldes to relax.
Away from all the tangled affairs and potential threats, disguised as a common old tree spirit, blending in with a group of simple, enthusiastic Lizardmen, and experiencing their earnest kindness and hopes for a new life... The feeling, he had to admit, was surprisingly nice.
Oldes’s mind drifted. His thoughts gradually emptied, and he nearly dozed off from the cart’s gentle rocking.
After a long while, a quiet stir and hushed, excited whispers rippled through the caravan, rousing him from his reverie.
"Look, a spire! We’re here!" Salaman’s excited voice rang out as he pointed ahead with a thick arm.
Oldes followed his gaze.
Ahead, the endless Swamp Forest came to an abrupt stop, as if sliced clean by an invisible, giant hand. In its place, a vast expanse of hardened ground planted with moisture-tolerant, low-lying shrubs stretched into the distance.
And there on the far horizon, even though the mysterious Slime Royal Capital itself was not yet visible, an enormous, cloud-piercing spire had already captured his attention.
The spire looked like some kind of multi-tiered geometric structure, its tip apparently inlaid with a massive crystal or Gemstone. Even from this distance, he could faintly make out the magical glow it emanated.
As the pack beast slowly crested the last low hill, the view ahead opened up dramatically.
Stretching out before them was a boundless plain, and at its center stood a circular city of unimaginable scale.
Countless buildings stood in neat rows. Although he could see that many areas on the outskirts were still covered in scaffolding, the scale of the completed sections was still shockingly vast—rivaling the major cities, or even the royal capitals, of the Human Kingdoms in Oldes’s memory.
The architectural style, however, was unique.
They had a heavy, solid feel. The walls were built from large stone blocks, their surfaces left unpolished to retain a coarse texture, evoking the rugged style typical of swamp construction.
Yet the city’s layout was incredibly orderly. The streets formed a neat grid with clearly defined districts, a clear sign that it had borrowed from the wisdom of human city planning.
The thick, hundred-foot-high city walls gleamed like Obsidian under the autumn sun. They were undoubtedly enchanted with some kind of Magic. Judging by the arrow towers and cannon emplacements that stood at regular intervals along the ramparts, the magnificent capital clearly possessed formidable defensive and offensive power.
Oldes had envisioned many possibilities, even a chaotic, filthy den for monsters. But he had never, ever imagined that the little creatures he thought could only bounce around and secrete goo were capable of building such a magnificent city.
It was an impossible miracle, one that completely overturned the understanding he had built over centuries: that Slimes were nothing more than Low-tier Demons.
"Whoa! The Royal Capital is huge!"
The Lizardmen all craned their necks, their amber, slit-pupiled eyes wide with curiosity as gasps of amazement rose one after another.
To them, their fortress in the East Swamp had seemed enormous and impregnable. But compared to the Royal Capital before them, it was as if they’d been living in a backwater mud hole.
The starker the contrast, the more a powerful suspicion grew within Oldes.
’Could the rumors be true? Had the Slime King enslaved countless human artisans and laborers, cracking a whip and forcing them to build this capital under threat of death?’
But as the cart drew closer to the Royal Capital, Oldes quickly dismissed the thought.