Chapter 202

"What's the problem here?" Lyssandra asked, surveying the immense pit of churning filth. She spotted no obvious structural damage, only the continuous, revolting cycle of the tentacles dumping waste.

The monitoring goblin rushed over, her gloved hands gesturing animatedly. "Mother, it's the accumulation! The solution was in the design you gave us! We built this pit because… well, look!"

She swept her hand towards the vast pool below. "With over 200 living beings in the dungeon – goblins, ogres, wolves… we produce mountains of waste every day! We needed a solution before the whole place flooded with piss and shit!"

Lyssandra nodded slowly. "Indeed. I had anticipated this. We could have used it as fertilizer for the crops," she mused, tapping her chin through the thick leather of her suit. "Or simply pumped it outside into the jungle. And the original dungeon surely had some kind of natural decay mechanism…"

"Fertilizer?" the first goblin piped up. "Isn't that… um… stuff to make plants grow faster?" Her forehead scrunched in thought. "I might have seen something about that in the library?" She sounded uncertain but proud of herself for remembering.

Lyssandra smiled faintly. "Good memory, little one." Her attention returned to the pit. "The problem remains: what to do with all this?" She stared down into the dark mire, thinking.

Then something caught her eye. Near the edge of the pit, amidst the swirling slurry, a large, dark shape moved sluggishly. It looked like a particularly dense lump of… something brown but it was clearly moving under its own power, flowing and rippling.

Lyssandra leaned forward on the railing, pointing. "What is that? Is that pile of shit moving?"

The monitoring goblin gasped. "What? Where? Oh! I see it!" She squinted. "It looks like… like a big something."

All three leaned forward, staring intently into the murky depths. The moving mass was large, at least the size of a grown man, and brownish in color. It flowed and oozed slowly, distinct from the normal churning of the waste.

"It's not shit…" Lyssandra said, realization dawning. "It's moving with purpose." Her mind raced, recalling the ecology of her dungeon. Then it clicked.

Evolution.

She saw the familiar movement. The large, sluggish shape. The thick, translucent brown form with swirls of dark sediment visible inside. Rhythmic bubbling rose to its surface whilst it digested. Damp, earthy odor, faintly distinguishable from the overwhelming stench of the pit, wafted upwards.

"It can't be…" she breathed, a hint of amazement in her voice despite the situation. .

"A slime!"

Lyssandra quickly activated her scanning ability, focusing on the sluggish brown shape. A translucent data screen materialized before her eyes, overlaid against her vision inside the mask.

Mire Slime

Species: Slime

Origin: Evolved from Green Slime

Appearance:

Muddy translucent brown body; high viscosity. Visible dark sediment swirling within amorphous form. Slow, rhythmic bubbling on surface with damp earthy odor

Abilities:

Specialized Digestion: Capable of dissolving organic refuse (feces, decaying matter), bacteria, and microbes.

Nutrient Conversion: Breaks down waste into a nutrient-rich, liquid slurry beneficial for plant growth or other purposes.

Low Aggression: Docile behavior, avoids confrontation unless attacked.

Habitat: Thrives in humid, waste-rich environments (sewers, dung pits).

Physical Traits: Mild acidic secretion aids digestion but non-corrosive to living tissue. Odor suppression properties help neutralize surrounding smells.

Lyssandra blinked, dismissing the data screen.

"Amazing," she murmured, a note of fascination. "A Mire Slime. Evolved from one of our green guys." She gestured towards the sluggish blob in the pit. "Look at it! It's perfect! This… this is our solution."

The goblins exchanged confused glances.

"Solution?" the monitoring goblin asked tentatively. "What does it do?"

"It eats shit!" Lyssandra explained with growing excitement. "Literally! And the other dirty things. And… well, all of it. That's its specialty. The slime breaks it down, dissolves and turns it into something usable. Something nutrient-rich."

"So it turns our poop into food?" the first goblin asked, wrinkling her nose beneath her mask.

Lyssandra chuckled. "In a sense, yes. But food for the dungeon, or for the crops. Imagine feeding this rich slurry to our fungi gardens or the crops we'll start growing."

She gestured around the chamber. "This Mire Slime is exactly what we needed. A living waste processor. Self-sustaining and efficient."

She leaned on the railing, watching the large brown thing flow gently through the muck, leaving a faintly clearer trail behind.

"It even suppresses the odor," she mused. "Fascinating adaptation." She turned to the goblins. "This pit, this monster… this is how we solve our waste problem. We need more like it."

"More?" the monitoring goblin looked uncertain. "Won't it be messy?"

Lyssandra grinned within her mask, her eyes gleaming. "Messy? Perhaps. But functional. And who cares about mess when it means we get powerful allies and solve our sewage issues?" Her voice took on a decisive tone. "This entire chamber, the Waste Pit from now on, it's the Slime Incubator. We'll introduce more green slimes here and encourage them to evolve."

The goblins looked at each other, then at the contented Mire Slime consuming the filth below. Understanding began to dawn.

"I leave the rest to you," Lyssandra continued. "Get more green slimes. Bring them to this fertile environment. See how many evolve into Mire Slimes. This is priority. Consider this pit their new home and their all-you-can-eat buffet."

The goblins bowed enthusiastically. "Yes, Mother! We'll get many fat slimes!" the first one chirped.

"Perfect. Carry on." With that, Lyssandra turned and strode towards the exit door, the heavy leather suit slightly cumbersome. Pulling off the mask as she stepped through the final airlock, taking a deep, grateful breath of the relatively fresh dungeon air.

"One problem down," she muttered to herself, wiping sweat from her brow. "One left to go." Her thoughts immediately shifted to Miriel.

She needed the Saintess.

Lyssandra teleported directly to the small guest room she had assigned to Miriel within her mansion. Without knocking, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Miriel was kneeling by the bed, hands clasped in prayer, a serene expression on her face while she communed with her nonexistent god. She started slightly at the person entered before rising to her feet, her usual warm smile notably absent.

"Saintess," Lyssandra greeted, her voice casual. "How are you doing?"

Miriel hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. When she spoke, her voice was polite but distinctly cooler than before, lacking its former warmth. "Thank you. I am fine." She kept her gaze slightly averted. "What do you need?"

Lyssandra leaned casually against the door frame, a playful smile playing on her lips. She noticed the subtle shift in Miriel's demeanor – the stiffness, the guarded expression, the lack of eye contact. 'Ah~She's upset.'

"Oh, nothing much," Lyssandra drawled, her voice dripping with faux innocence. "Just wondering if you were busy praying to your… god?" She emphasized the word with a hint of mockery. "Or if you had a moment for earthly matters."

Miriel's lips pressed into a thin line. "If you have business with me, please state it."

Lyssandra pushed off the door frame and sauntered closer. She stopped directly in front of Miriel, towering over her before leaning down slightly, forcing the girl to meet her gaze.

"Business?" Lyssandra purred, her breath hot against Miriel's cheek. "Why, what makes you think I have business with you? Maybe I just came to admire the view."

Miriel blushed deeply, taking an involuntary step back, bumping into the bed behind. She crossed her arms defensively. "Don't… don't toy with me. What do you want?"

Lyssandra chuckled. "Oh, but toying is so much fun." She reached out a hand and gently tucked a stray strand of silver hair behind Miriel's ear. "Especially when you get so delightfully flustered."

Miriel slapped her hand away, glaring up at Lyssandra with uncharacteristic heat. "Stop that!" she hissed. "Just tell me what you need!"

Lyssandra straightened up, still smiling. "Fine. I need you."

Miriel's eyes widened slightly. "What?"

"You heard me," Lyssandra said, her tone shifting to seriousness, though her eyes still twinkled with amusement. "I'm going outside. Beyond the dungeon, into the Withering Jungle. And you, dear Saintess, are coming with me." She gestured towards the door. "Grab your holy book or whatever you need. We leave shortly."

Miriel stared at her, mouth slightly open in disbelief. "But… why? Why do you need me?"

Lyssandra shrugged, her smile widening. "Why not? You're useful. You know things. You brighten up the place. Doesn't matter, I just like looking at your pretty face. Besides, you're my guest. Surely you'd like a tour of my domain?" She emphasized the last word suggestively.

Miriel's blush spreading down her neck. She looked utterly flustered, torn between outrage and bewilderment. "I… I… Fine!" she sputtered. "But only if it's necessary! And only if you behave!"

Lyssandra threw back her head and laughed, a rich, genuine sound. "Behave? Me? Now where would be the fun in that?" She turned towards the door. "You have ten minutes. Don't make me come get you again. Last time was distracting."

She left, pulling the door shut behind, still chuckling to herself as she imagined the furious blush and the sputtering sounds the Saintess was undoubtedly making behind the closed door.