Along the road, squads of Metal Slimes patrolled by on their Beetle mounts, marching in perfect, disciplined unison.
In the sky, swarms of Poisonous Sting Bees formed black streams, flying back and forth between distant mud pits and the Royal Capital’s construction sites, transporting materials.
He watched as, at the base of a section of wall being built ever higher, several different-colored Slimes worked in perfect coordination.
They molded the mud delivered by the Poisonous Sting Bees into standard, square bricks. Then, a Slime would hop onto a brick, its body glowing faintly. The brick would visibly lose its moisture, its color deepening as its texture rapidly hardened to become as solid as rock.
The finished bricks were then sent up on a hoist and laid into the growing wall.
The entire process was efficient, orderly, and the division of labor was clear. There were no overseers, no whips—only the silent collaboration between Slimes, communicating through slight quivers of their Gel bodies.
’Such discipline, such intelligence, such efficient social collaboration...’ Oldes could hardly believe his eyes. He felt as though he weren’t watching a horde of Low-tier Demons, but a well-trained, highly skilled team of human artisans.
’No... doesn’t this just confirm the rumors? The one that says the Slime ruler uses some sort of evil Magic to control the will of all its subjects? That’s why they can be so perfectly synchronized, like different parts of a single, giant body.’
’Perhaps these Slimes have no intelligence of their own. They’re merely controlled by a single, unified will, which is how they display such astonishing discipline and social structure.’
’They’re just puppets. Tools.’
Just as Oldes thought he was closing in on the truth, the convoy slowly approached the magnificent gates of the Royal Capital.
Pumu bounced forward and briefly communicated with the Slime Guard. The guard’s perfectly round eyes swept over the convoy, the Lizardmen, and Oldes, seemingly verifying their identities.
Soon, the Slime Guard bobbed up and down in assent, and the convoy passed smoothly through the gates into the Royal Capital.
The first thing that greeted Oldes’s eyes was a wide central avenue.
The central avenue was long, leading straight toward the heart of the city. Even from several kilometers away, Oldes could make out a circular plaza at its end. In the center of the plaza stood what appeared to be a fountain with a Slime sculpture, its water shimmering in the sunlight.
Contrary to all of Oldes’s assumptions, there were no human Slave Camps, no filthy hovels, no scenes of oppressive labor. Instead, the streets were exceptionally clean and tidy. The air was fresh, carrying the faint, pleasant scent of plants.
And the Slimes he had assumed were being controlled were now bouncing freely through the streets and alleys.
A bustling commercial scene lined both sides of the street. As the convoy passed, they saw the road flanked by all manner of simple stalls.
The stalls were fashioned from wooden planks, stone blocks, or large leaves, and displayed a dazzling array of goods: green crackers made from pressed and baked moss and fungi; morning dew or nectar served in small wooden bowls; plump Moss Insects roasted to a fragrant crisp; Fluorescent Stones of various sizes; and delicate little baskets woven from thin vines.
Passing Slimes would bounce up to a stall and briefly communicate with the Slime vendor. With a slight wobble, they would produce Copper Coins from inside their bodies to make a purchase.
These Slimes even knew how to adorn themselves. He saw many of them wearing various kinds of hats or head ornaments.
Some wore floral crowns woven from thin vines and wildflowers, while others had somehow acquired shiny shells and stuck them to their heads as decorations.
To project a scholarly image, some Slimes would even balance a book on their head or wear a pair of glasses they had no use for.
Compared to their wild counterparts, they seemed more confident and brave, showing no fear of the rather intimidating-looking Lizardmen.
On the contrary, many curious Slime residents came squishing over, bouncing as they sized up the convoy and the new faces in the carts. Some even grabbed a moss cracker or a small wildflower from their stalls and tried to offer them to Turk and his companions as gifts.
If Pumu hadn’t been bouncing at the front to maintain order, these overly enthusiastic little creatures might have held up the convoy for quite some time.
Watching this scene, Oldes completely abandoned his earlier theories.
These Slimes undoubtedly possessed intelligence—far more than he had ever imagined. They seemed to have developed a clear social structure with a division of labor: Warriors, merchants, scholars, artisans... a whole range of professions he thought were unique to human society.
"Simply incredible..." Oldes murmured under his breath.
Turk glanced back and smiled. "It is, isn’t it? That’s what I think, too."
"If not for a chance encounter, our people might have gone for generations without ever discovering such a glorious Kingdom hidden within a swamp that seemed to symbolize only death."
"Your identity has already been reported to Her Highness Xiaohua via the Gel network. I’m sure she’ll soon arrange for a Slime escort to take you safely to the Tree Spirit Territory to reunite with Lady Violet."
"Gel network?" Oldes keenly seized on the term. He felt he had just grasped the key to understanding how this peculiar Kingdom operated.
Turk loosened his beast-hide cloak, revealing a patch of emerald-green Gel adhering to the scales on his neck.