He gripped the knife tightly as the rustling grew louder.
"Why is all this happening to me? What have I done to deserve this?" Jordan muttered, his voice trembling with fear, though confusion and a growing anger laced his tone.
The rustling intensified, snapping his focus back to the bushes. He instinctively took a step back as something began to emerge.
The little anger he'd felt was drowned out completely by terror as his eyes locked on the creature.
The thing in front of him moved—no, crawled—its grotesquely twisted body contorting with each labored inch forward.
Its semi-green, slimy form made faint, sickening noises with every movement, filling the air with an unnatural tension.
Jordan's teeth clenched. He kept retreating step by step, desperately trying to put some distance between himself and whatever this thing was.
He then noticed something—a small amount of slime began to form in front of the creature's body. It twisted and churned sharply, shaping itself into a ball, resembling the size and form of a soccer ball.
Suddenly, the ball of slime shot toward Jordan.
He dodged to the left, nearly stumbling as his abrupt movements threw him off balance.
"Thwack!"
A sharp, crisp sound echoed as the ball of slime slammed into one of the tall trees behind him.
Jordan turned to look at the damage. It wasn't devastating, but that was likely due to the sheer thickness of the tree.
Still, it only fueled the spiraling thoughts brewing in his mind.
A slime? No, this can't be right. I haven't been thrown into a game, have I? Am I dreaming?
The questions lingered in his head, but the details didn't add up. The faint wind the slime ball created as it shot past him was far too real. He felt the warmth left by the motion, the air whizzing by his skin.
This wasn't a dream—he knew that much.
His eyes shifted back to the slime, its body still crawling forward in grotesque, jerking movements. Then it happened again—a ball of slime began to form in front of the creature.
"Swish!"
It shot toward him, but this time, Jordan was ready. He dodged to the side, his movements quick but less frantic than before.
His breathing came in short gasps as he tried to steady himself. The slime rippled, its gelatinous body shifting as if annoyed by his ability to evade its attack. The air between them grew thick with tension, and Jordan's grip tightened around the knife, his knuckles turning white.
He didn't know what this thing was or why it was attacking him, but one thing was clear—it wasn't going to stop.
The slime churned again, another ball beginning to take shape in front of its shifting body. Jordan's mind raced. He couldn't keep dodging forever, and he wasn't sure how many more attacks he could evade before slipping up. He had to fight back.
But how? Its body wasn't solid, it didn't have a face, and it showed no obvious weak points. His knife felt useless against something so formless.
His eyes darted around, scanning the forest for anything he could use. A rock, a branch, something with more range than the short blade in his trembling hand.
The slime's movements drew his attention back. This time, it didn't attack immediately. Instead, it crept forward, inch by inch, closing the distance between them.
"Stay back!" Jordan shouted, his voice cracking under the strain. He slashed the knife in the air—a futile gesture that only seemed to agitate the creature further.
Another ball of slime began to form, larger than the last. Jordan's heart raced, his instincts screaming at him to move. Then, he noticed something—the creature paused every time it prepared to attack.
It was vulnerable in those moments.
The slime ball launched with a sharp whoosh. Jordan dove to the side, hitting the ground hard. But instead of retreating, he scrambled to his feet and charged forward, knife in hand, before the creature could prepare another strike.
The blade sank into the slime's body with almost no resistance, sliding in far too easily. The creature shuddered violently, its form rippling around the knife.
For a moment, Jordan thought he'd won. Then the slime twisted, pulling the blade deeper into its body. His grip slipped, and before he could react, the knife disappeared, swallowed entirely by the creature.
"Damn it!" he hissed, stumbling backward. Now he was unarmed.
The slime quivered, almost mockingly, before continuing its slow advance. Desperation clawed at Jordan's mind as his eyes scanned the creature for anything he could exploit. Then he saw it—a faint glimmer deep within the slime.
It was subtle, nearly invisible unless the sunlight hit it just right. But it was there.
A core.
Jordan didn't know why, but instinct told him that was the key.
The slime churned, preparing another projectile. Jordan's pulse pounded in his ears as his mind raced. He had no weapon, no real plan—but he had his hands, and adrenaline was surging through him.
As the slime ball launched toward him, Jordan ducked low and sprinted forward, closing the distance in one reckless move. The slime hesitated, seemingly caught off guard by his sudden charge.
"Come on, you piece of crap!" he yelled, plunging his hands into its gelatinous body.
The cold, sticky sensation made his stomach churn, but he pushed through, reaching deeper into the creature. It writhed violently, its entire form convulsing in an attempt to force him out.
Jordan's fingers brushed against something solid. He grabbed it, his grip tightening around the slick, smooth object, and yanked with everything he had.
The moment the core left the creature's body, the slime froze. For a brief, terrifying second, Jordan thought it might explode. Instead, its form collapsed, losing cohesion until it was nothing more than a lifeless puddle of goo on the forest floor.
He fell to his knees, gasping for air, the core still clutched in his trembling hand. It was small, about the size of a marble, and faintly glowing.
"What the hell is this thing?" he muttered, his voice hoarse.
The forest was silent again, but he knew this wasn't over. If there was one slime, there could be more. And he wasn't sure how many times he could pull off a stunt like that.
Still, as he stared at the glowing core in his hand, a flicker of determination sparked in his chest.
Whatever was happening, whatever this world had thrown at him—he would survive. One way or another.
He picked his knife off the ground, gripping it tightly. This time, he felt a little more confident than before.