Chen Yu went out to scout. After a struggle he finally hopped onto the city wall, only to see Count Bran charging back as if fleeing for his life.

"Your Majesty, something's wrong!"

"Outside, outside—there's only a boar! A—an enormous boar…"

"A boar? How big could it be?"

A puzzled thought bubble popped up from Chen Yu.

From his understanding, swamp boars could be big, but at most the size of a regular farm pig.

"Bigger, taller than the tree hall! Like a moving city wall!"

Seeing Count Bran terrified like that didn’t seem like an act.

Chen Yu grew curious and looked toward the source of the voice. Count Bran cowered behind Chen Yu, only daring to poke half his head out.

"Rumble! Rumble! Rumble!!!"

Soon, from the swamp forest in the distance, it sounded like a prehistoric behemoth was rampaging. trees as thick as bowls snapped like toothpicks and were hurled aside, mud splashed, dust billowed.

Along with the crashing of trees came an increasingly close scream.

"Ahhhh—!!"

"Help! Stop! You stupid pig!!!"

Then a colossal creature barreled out of the thicket.

Hiss.

Count Bran’s earlier description turned out to be completely accurate.

This Wild Boar King was as tall as the fortress walls, its coarse gray-black hide like heavy armor, caked with mud and shredded leaves. Two curved tusks gleamed with feral light, and its blood-red eyes held only raw destructive rage.

Each of its steps shook the ground;

it was essentially a moving mountain of flesh.

On that mountain of flesh’s back, a scrawny Goblin Shaman bounced like a rag doll in a gale, clinging to the boar’s neck bristles that resembled steel pins, howling like a pig being slaughtered.

Behind them, a dozen or so breathless, skewed-helmet, misarmored Goblin Soldiers swung weapons to fend off the buzzing Poison-stinger Wasps while desperately chasing after them, shouting incomprehensible goblin phrases. The scene was utter chaos.

Those green-skinned short gourds again.

Chen Yu instantly realized it was the Goblin Army’s doing.

Last time they sent a squad to die;

this time they brought a siege beast straight at the walls.

"Attack!"

On the wall, the Poison-stinger Wasp Soldiers immediately buzzed, a black rain of venomous needles shot toward the Wild Boar King.

Clink clank… pfft pfft…

The venomous needles hit the boar’s hide, which was as hard as rock;

most simply bounced off, the few that stuck barely scratched it—they were only enough to make the boar feel an itch.

The Wild Boar King shook its massive head and sneezed with thunderous force, spraying the shaman on its back with rank nasal discharge. Its blood-red eyes locked onto the wall.

"Gahaha! Worthless!"

"Stupid pig, charge! Knock it down!"

"Roar!"

The Wild Boar King let out an eardrum-shattering roar, pawed the ground with all four hooves like an out-of-control mudslide, and slammed into the city wall.

Boom!

The dull impact made ears buzz.

But the wall only trembled slightly;

it didn't crack. It was as hard as a solid block of mountain rock.

"Uh…"

The shaman was shaken senseless, but he couldn't afford to pass out. He blinked rapidly and stared at the wall that hadn't even a scratch.

His joy froze like it had been iced over.

…It didn't budge?

He was a bit stunned—this wasn't what he expected.

But he quickly found a reason—surely they hadn’t hit it hard enough.

"Stupid pig! Haven't you eaten? Hit it harder! For the army!"

He shouted hoarsely, his eyes searching the wall.

"Who’s the lord here? Come out, Undead Lord!"

"If you don't come out, the great Goblin Army warriors will tear this pile of rocks flat and pull you out to make into an urn!"

His gaze swept across the battlements and settled on the creature that looked like a stunned slime, and on the crow cowering behind it.

He ignored the slime and pointed at Count Bran, screaming, "You! That black bird hiding behind the slime! Don't think I can't recognize you just because you wear feathers, Undead Lord, show your true form!"

Being shouted at and insulted by a green-skinned short gourd—what a humiliating disgrace. Count Bran's anger flared;

he thrust his whole head out from behind Chen Yu and shrieked back with his broken-lantern voice:

"Gak! You stinky green gourd, what are you so proud of? The great Slime Majesty is here, how dare you—just wait until His Majesty acts… uh, Your Majesty, what are you doing?!"

Count Bran's scream suddenly changed tone, filled with terror, because he saw the Slime Majesty beside him—the gel body contracting sharply, like a spring loaded with force.

Swoosh!

A green projectile shot up from the crenelation, arcing in a perfect parabola aimed straight at the raging Wild Boar King below that was preparing a second charge.

"Slime? Your Majesty?"

The shaman, startled by Count Bran's yell, followed the sight and saw the green "projectile" flying over.

He froze, then let out a nasty snort-laugh: "Pfft! Hahaha, a snot slug… uh…"

But his laugh choked off quickly.

The green shot smeared with a "splat" and landed squarely on the Wild Boar King's nostrils, which were snorting in fury.

"Hmph hmph hmph!!"

A glob of slime now dared to jeer at its nose.

This drove the Wild Boar King nearly insane.

The bloodshot webbing in its eyes seemed to be swept away by an invisible eraser. Its terrifying roar—capable of making goblins soil themselves—suddenly stuck halfway and turned into a puzzled, confused, slightly aggrieved snuffle.

Rage, fury, destructive urge… all vanished without a trace.

In their place was a pure… blankness.

As if asking,

Who am I? Where am I? Why does my nose feel cool and a little itchy?

This change, even more horrifying than the wall not collapsing, happened right before the shaman's eyes.

His horror hadn't fully formed before being replaced by a fear-stricken bewilderment.

His mighty siege beast had been touched on the nose by a slime… and gone dumb?!

Count Bran, still shaking from his fright, flew over and circled the suddenly "docile and harmless" Wild Boar King twice, his bird eyes wide as saucers.

He looked at Chen Yu sitting unbothered on the boar's nose, then at the shaman on the boar's back with a face like he had swallowed a venom toad, and finally got it. He burst into arrogant, raucous laughter.

"Gak hahaha! Green skins, surrender now, stop your useless resistance!"

The shaman froze mid-back, as if petrified.

"No… impossible… my… my siege beast…"

His shriveled lips trembled, his voice hoarse like a broken bellows.

"An illusion… it must be an illusion… undead sorcery! Yes, evil undead sorcery!"

"You—"

He didn't finish before the boar interrupted with a nasal "snuffle~".

The enormous creature seemed to find the coolness on its nose pleasant and even leaned gently against the wall as if seeking affection, rubbing. It sent the shaman tumbling off with a splash into the mud.

"Retreat! Fall back!"

The Goblin Shaman scrambled up hands and feet, ignoring his embarrassment, and with a terrified expression turned to flee.

He wanted to get away from this perverted undead slime.

He wanted to escape this evil creature.