Chapter 8: New addition

James stood in the early morning light, boots soaked by dew, grinning at the crowd of slimes that now occupied half the yard. Each little creature seemed to quiver with excitement, eyes bright and locked on him. The moment felt surreal—like waking up in the middle of a dream and finding it all real.

A moment later, his father walked out, rubbing his eyes and stopping dead on the step. He stared for a long moment, mouth open. “What the fuck?”

James couldn’t help but laugh. “They’re all my friends.”

Garrick shot him a wary look, then squinted at the mass of slimes. “H-How many?”

“I don’t know, pa,” James replied, trying to keep a straight face. “I don’t know how to count.”

His father huffed, shaking his head, and walked around the yard, muttering under his breath as he tried to tally up the little blobs. Of course, James knew how to count—he just liked playing the part of the clueless kid for a while longer. It made things simpler. And truth be told, being this poor, there was no reason why his parent would have taught him to read, write, or count. That said.

Garrick finished his count and came back to stand beside his son, brow furrowed. “So what now?”

James put on his best commanding voice and called out, “Right then, boys—get to work!”

At once, the slimes sprang into action. They scattered across the fields in quick, eager leaps, diving into the weeds, attacking insects, and gobbling up anything that looked like a pest. The sight was both hilarious and weirdly impressive—a dozen glistening blobs clearing the land faster than any hoe or rake.

Garrick watched, arms crossed, and let out a low whistle. “Well, that makes work in the field easier.”

The chores got done in record time. James watched in quiet amazement as the slimes spread out across the yard and fields, moving with a strange, eager energy that made everything look effortless. Feeding the animals, cleaning out the muck, clearing away rotten straw and old feed—tasks that once took hours of dull, aching labor were finished before breakfast. The slimes just seemed to know what to do. They rolled under fences and squeezed through cracks, dragging muck out of stalls, piling dung in neat heaps for composting. They fetched water in buckets, wobbling but determined, and even the hens barely flinched as the blobs slid past.

It wasn’t chaos, either. There was a method to it, an odd kind of organization that James hadn’t expected. Some slimes clustered together to tackle the biggest jobs—dragging branches, breaking down piles of debris—while others broke off in ones or twos to check feed troughs or chase stray chicks back into the coop. Their soft, wet bodies left faint trails in the dirt, but it was nothing that couldn’t be brushed away. The yard looked cleaner, brighter, almost as if the farm itself was waking up from a long, heavy sleep.

The animals didn’t even seem bothered by their new helpers. The cows flicked their tails and chewed their cud, untroubled as a slime rolled between their legs to scoop up a fallen apple. The sheep gave the slimes an idle sniff, then went right back to grazing.

James set a few of the slimes on permanent pest patrol. They slipped through the vegetable rows, leaving hardly a trace, sucking up beetles, grubs, and anything else that tried to nibble the crops. The beans and squash vines seemed to perk up overnight, no longer ragged at the edges or riddled with holes.

He remembered the wild hives then, the possibilities of honey and wax as a source of income. Selecting six of the most energetic slimes, he sent them into the woods with a simple command—to locate but don’t disturb any hives they could find. The slimes scattered under the fence, moving in a coordinated path, their eyes bright with purpose. James watched their progress from a distance, tracking their glimmering bodies as they moved between roots and over mossy logs, searching the tangled undergrowth and the dark, hollow trunks where wild bees might hide.

With his chores finished so quickly, James had hours left in the day that he’d never had before. He wandered through the fields and down the path, feeling a strange sense of power and possibility with every step. For the first time, he wasn’t just reacting to the world—he was shaping it, commanding it, making things happen on his terms. The farm, the slimes, the strange new magic of this place—they all felt like extensions of his own will. And as the sun rose higher, lighting up the clean yard and the hard work of his secret army, James knew he’d only begun to scratch the surface of what he could do.

Later in the day, the slimes clustered around James, practically vibrating with excitement. He knew they’d found something important—a hive. He hadn’t managed to find any wild hives on his own, mostly because his height and limited time kept him from exploring as far as he wanted. But with a squad of slimes on the job, the possibilities grew wider with every search.

He followed the bouncing, gleaming blobs out through the tall grass and under the twisted shadows of the trees. They led him straight to the hive—an impressive structure nestled in the crook of an old, mossy oak. The constant, low hum of bees filled the air, and James felt his skin prickle at the sound. He remembered all too well how much it hurt to get stung—like fire and ice at the same time. He moved carefully, every step slow and deliberate.

James flicked open his stat screen, his heart beating faster as a swarm of new icons filled the display. Right at the top sat one he hadn’t seen before—the Queen Bee, her icon larger and crowned, a clear sign of hierarchy. He tapped her, curiosity and nerves battling in his gut. There was a faint chime, and the screen pinged:

[Animal tamed] Queen Bee. XP gained.

Almost immediately, the Queen emerged from the hive, her wings glinting gold in the sun. She hovered for a moment, then landed lightly on his shoulder, settling in as if she’d always belonged there. The rest of the bees stilled, as if waiting for a signal.

James made his way back to the house, the Queen riding with him, the slimes trailing behind, single file. He found a quiet spot near the garden—a patch sheltered from the wind and close enough to the flowers to keep the bees busy. He set about arranging a makeshift area for the Queen, using whatever scraps of wood and stone he could find, already planning to ask the builders for a proper hive box.

James didn’t feel bad about taking the queen from the hive since he knew that another queen would be hatched and take over the existing hive. So he was giving the queen a chance to start a new hive without damaging the original one.