The General and The Princess.

Well, I’ll be traveling in about two hours and will be back on the 28th, it's my mom’s birthday. I’ll try to write a bit during the trip and dictate when I get back, so the next chapter should be out by the 29th, at the latest the 30th. Hopefully sooner.

That being said, if anyone wants to support me or just read 3/7 chapters ahead, that’s possible with my (P)(A)(T). If not, I still appreciate you reading!

As always, good Night and happy reading!

(P)(A)(T)/CalleumArtori

[...]---[...]

In an instant, I was absorbing the information contained in that message; in the next, without sound or warning, a blade with a broken tip, glowing with a molten bronze hue, was less than an inch from my eyes, slashing in a horizontal circular strike from left to right.

The General was fast—easily the fastest enemy I had ever faced or was currently facing. If I had to estimate, his speed was around Mach four or five, maybe even more…

…But it wasn’t anywhere near enough to match me.

I tilted my head slightly backward, dodging the strike that would likely have blinded me, just before slamming my left palm against the shield aimed at my stomach, following the sword’s attack. The impact of flesh against metal made no sound. I felt the kinetic energy of the blow being absorbed by something.

The right hand of the armor rotated at its wrist, the metal screeching with a rusty tone as it moved, before the momentum of the strike disappeared—absorbed by the same force that had absorbed the previous blow’s kinetic energy—and the xiphos sword swung again toward my eyes, tracing an arc opposite to the first.

The motion was precise, an identical reversal of the first strike, as if time had rewound itself, I noted. I slightly adjusted my grip on the Ice Blade and parried the xiphos head-on. As before, the kinetic force of the impact was nullified. It felt like hitting something soft, like a pillow; there was no rebound from the strike. It was strange.

The sound of the collision still echoed throughout the chamber, slightly stirring the dust on the floor, though muffled. Before the General could kick me—as I saw his right leg begin the motion—I pushed him back with my left hand on his shield and leapt to the side, putting distance between us across the room.

He was pushed only a few meters, and given the force I’d applied, that was far too little. He should have, at the very least, broken through the opposite wall, if not two or three beyond it. I took those moments to analyze him and the information I had gleaned.

What was absorbing the energy of the strikes wasn’t the armor, at least not entirely. The runes and mystical symbols etched into the metal were melted and deformed; only one or two faintly glowed with a pinkish hue, still active. This was remarkable, considering the probable age of the armor.

My gaze wandered to the largest hole in the armor, near the left rib area. It was a jagged opening, unlike the perfectly circular breaches typically found in castle walls. The holes in the armor were irregular, some shaped like straight slashes, others like crosses or “X’s,” and some with circular contours.

This one, specifically, had a cross shape, as if a blade had cut it from two different angles. However, considering that—if my assumption was correct—the entity that attacked this castle was the Vortex Pillar, it had likely been a large arrow or a laser projectile that caused this wound.

I couldn’t see through the vibrant pink mass inside the armor, nor could I probe it with the VoidBag. It was as if the armor was alive, including the sword and shield, somehow. Still, I had noticed this wound had a counterpart on the back of the armor when the General was kneeling.

The vibrant pink mass—which I was certain was the General’s body—quivered and rippled slightly but in a rapid and chaotic manner, like gelatin. A faint buzzing sound, so subtle it was barely audible, emanated from within the armor. It closely resembled the hum of a tuning fork…

So that’s why there was no sound when he moved? The sound created by his motion was absorbed before it could even travel a centimeter?… Fuck, that was new…

I knew slimes were good at absorbing physical blows, but this ability was something entirely different. He wasn’t merely absorbing or resisting my attacks; he was directly absorbing their kinetic and mechanical energy.

It was like Yang’s Semblance, but stronger. I was certain that if I pushed Yang with the same force I used to shove the shield, she would have been sent flying hundreds of meters, if not more. The General had only been pushed back a few meters and didn’t even seem affected. Yang’s Aura would’ve been shattered—

My thoughts were interrupted as the armor moved again. It made no sound, as before, but its speed was considerably greater than before. His movements were mechanical, far too straight.

“You can use the kinetic energy you absorb, can’t you?…” I asked aloud.

It was a test. I wanted to see if he would respond to or react to my voice. Neither happened; he simply continued his attack. After his initial shout, he had fallen deathly silent.

…Something about this was strange.

The strike was different this time, a straight thrust aimed at my right eye. I pulled the Bone Helm over my head and used the black hands: two to punch the blade’s edge, two to grab the hand wielding it, two to grip the arm, and left the rest inert. It was my second test. I wanted to see if he would react to nightmare energy.

In Cael’s diary, it was written that a General had fought the Deerclops, one whom Cael himself later admitted he was no longer certain was even a Fae… My question was: was this General the Pink standing before me?…

In Cael’s diary, the Fae wrote that he had been thrown into one of the rifts in space by a shockwave—something that the slime before me seemed to have as an ability to absorb. So far, in this battle, there had been no shockwaves… But in the General’s fight against the Deerclops, had there been?...

When the black hands’ punches struck the xiphos’ edge, it was instantaneous: I felt something trying—and failing—to absorb the kinetic energy of the blows. Slimes were mana-based creatures, created by mana—I knew that—and the Pink’s ability likely worked by using mana as a medium to absorb kinetic energy. Nightmare energy wasn’t mana.

The General’s armor arm was thrown aside with the two punches. The two black hands gripping his right hand prevented the metal from rotating on its axis, as I realized he had attempted to do.

Credit where it’s due: he was quick to react. The moment he realized his arm was restrained by four black hands, the General swung horizontally with his left hand, using the shield’s edge as a blunt blade, aiming at my neck, likely trying to strike my eyes, but his short stature made that impossible.

…Always aiming for the eyes.

With a mental command, I moved the last two black hands. One gripped the shield’s edge, producing a metallic echo. The second appeared inches from the General’s chest and shoved him away with a palm strike. He tried to resist, but the other four hands gripping his right arm pulled him backward, hurling him across the room.

I didn’t attack. I simply observed as he spun through the air, the armor screeching with each motion, until he landed on his feet. The impact with the ground made no noise. The moment the armor’s feet touched the floor, he dashed toward me again. Straight movements. Mechanical movements…

I let the arm holding the Ice Blade fall to my side before moving so fast that my form blurred. I sprinted toward the General, and our collision occurred near the throne room’s center. Strike against strike, our weapons clashed.

The sound barrier shattered, the boom reverberating through the room as the Ice Blade was engulfed in my nightmare energy. The shockwave stirred dust into the air, only for the Shadowflame to consume it mere meters away.

The General attempted to kick me with his right leg. I sidestepped to the left, evading the strike, and twisted my wrist, pushing the Ice Blade while pulling his xiphos downward by its guard. I struck when his arm began to move. The impact of my fist against his reverberated through the room, my hand completely black, enveloped by the Bone Helm’s hands like gloves.

The General’s armored fist rotated, and the xiphos spun around the Ice Blade, scraping the floor. The sword stopped spinning when it reached the opposite side of its original position. Then, like a mirror, its wielder planted his right foot firmly on the ground, spun on his axis, bent his upper body toward the floor, and delivered a crescent-angle kick with his left leg, aiming for my head.

I ignored the kick, the armor’s foot and leg restrained by eight black hands before they could reach me. I coated my already-armored left leg in nightmare energy. My horizontal kick made the armor’s chest metal groan and sent the General flying to the far wall of the room, where, just before colliding, he slammed his left hand against the wall.

The wall, already worn, riddled with holes and cracks, exploded. The General’s momentum vanished entirely, and he landed effortlessly on the ground.

“Kinetic energy redirection…” I murmured, my voice echoing with nightmare energy as the General charged forward like an arrow, his body almost parallel to the floor. “Truly impressive. A new strategy for every offensive… Well, partially, at least.”

Even with my words now laced with nightmare energy, the General didn’t react. Just a few meters from me, he drove his free hand into the ground, carving five deep grooves into the floor. The motion forced his body to spin and invert, sending both heels directly toward my eyes while his sword slashed horizontally at my knees.

I could have ‘killed’ him right then. In fact, I could have ‘killed’ him long ago. He was strong—ridiculously strong, even in that degraded state. But at this point, I was stronger. I had too many resources that nullified his greatest ability and countless more tricks if necessary. His instincts and techniques were remarkable but ultimately insufficient.

Still, I didn’t do it. I stepped forward, using my height advantage to kick him away again, my right leg coated in nightmare energy. Simultaneously, I blocked the near-perfect slash aimed at my knee with the Ice Blade.

The sound of metal clashing echoed through the room, both from the collision of weapons and the impact of my kick against the center of his bronze armor. I felt the metal groan under my sole before a sonic boom erupted, and the General was launched like a bullet through the hole in the wall he had made earlier.

“Millia, are you there?” I asked the little slime within my armor, my voice now free of the nightmare energy’s echo. “Do you want to go into the Slime Staff?”

She took a moment to respond—long enough for the slime inside the armor to rush at me again. Before that, he used the castle’s debris as cover, kicking it up to create a smoke screen. I pulled it all into the VoidBag, clearing my vision even though I didn’t really need to, and used the black hands of the Bone Helm to pin him to the ground.

The General reacted with mastery, spinning his body and slicing through six of the eight hands in an instant. His xiphos pulsed with a vibrant pink, radiating the echo of something nearly extinguished—I could feel it. It was his mana, mixed with what, if I had to guess, was an ancient blessing from the Empress of Light. Strangely, though, I couldn’t sense any divinity. The very light around him seemed to bend toward the blade, as if it were something natural.

The six hands weren’t destroyed, only severed and flung aside. But it wasn’t enough.

The two remaining hands pressed down on his shoulders, forcing him to the ground. I stepped forward, reappearing in front of him as he struck the ground with his shield, creating a small explosion that launched him upward, against the force of the black hands.

Before he could stabilize, my leg met the center of his armor again, sending him flying once more.

Right… This felt a lot like an authority, and one tied to the world itself, since I couldn’t sense any divinity. The Empress of Light is a Fae, obviously, but this is starting to feel much like the Faes I knew, like the Winter or Summer Queens—too much for my liking…

While the General didn’t return—this time, I’d kicked him harder, so it would take him a few seconds to make it back to the throne room—Millia finally answered me:

“No… it’s not necessary. I’m sad, very sad, but I knew this was possible. You warned me, and I’m not foolish…” The words formed shakily and slowly. “You’re not holding back because of me, are you? You don’t have to. Do what you must. I won’t blame you or resent you. Just end this and free my uncle from this state…”

“That’s the main reason,” I replied. Whether I liked it or not, the slime within the armor was Millia’s uncle. “I was looking for any way to end this fight without killing… You realized that, didn’t you?” I sighed, slightly stressed. What a mess.

Curiously, this fight would end without any deaths. I’d realized that a while ago, just as Millia had apparently noticed too, since she said ‘destroy his body,’ not ‘kill him’… I couldn’t kill Pink…

“Yes, I can feel the cores of all slimes. My uncle Pinky’s core has been destroyed for a long time… He’s been dead for ages…” Millia replied as the General re-entered the room.

… Because he was already dead. I’d been fighting a corpse this entire time.

I stared at the armor that crashed through the wall and landed back in the room. That’s why it was so impressive how he kept coming at me, always changing strategies. It was something expected in any battle—adapting and trying new tactics while facing an opponent was normal… For a living being…

The General was a corpse trapped and fused into melted armor. He didn’t think, didn’t have a mind. It was a dead body moved by what I suspected was a combination of instinct, some absurd form of muscle memory, and duty.

He always placed himself between me and the throne. Throughout the fight, the King and Queen Slime’s throne was the only untouched thing in this place. I didn’t know the full story, but even when this castle was attacked, he had protected those two thrones. Even in death, he continued fighting with mastery, protecting the thrones from invaders, trying to adapt and attack me, focusing mainly on my eyes… Even dead…

… He still screamed in hatred when he saw me.

An instinctive reaction, tied to a fury and rage so deeply rooted in his body that, even dead for probably millennia, his hatred manifested in one word: Foreigner.

Right before I moved to strike the General—this time to kill him, or rather, to destroy his body—Millia formed some words again:

“Can you hold him down? I want to try something…” The letters appeared quickly, more firmly than before. “Put me in front of him and leave the rest to me. Trust me.”

I frowned but didn’t stop to argue. My body twisted and disappeared from the spot where I had stood, Shadowflame enveloping me to prevent everything around from being destroyed. The General had no time to react before I pressed his body against the ground with my nightmare-infused foot, creating a crater in the room that spread cracks like a web across the floor.

I summoned the hands of the Bone Helm, commanding two to each limb. Simultaneously, my shadow distorted, growing until it stretched beneath the armor. Nightmare hands emerged from it, gripping the General even more tightly. I placed the tip of the Ice Blade against the neck of the armor and poured my nightmare energy and mana into the sword.

The nightmare energy acted as a mediator between my mana and the blade. My mana energized the sword—not enough to create an ice beam like the ones I used against Salem, but sufficient to cover the armor, starting from the neck where the tip touched, with a layer of frost that further slowed his struggle.

Millia didn’t wait for my confirmation—perhaps sensing the situation or trusting me to protect her—and leapt from the inner pocket of my armor onto my shoulder. The moment she emerged from the leather and fur of the Remnant of the Deerclops, the General’s struggle ceased entirely.

A moment ago, he had been fighting with all his strength, even with every limb restrained and freezing. The next instant, he froze—literally—as if finally realizing he was dead and then dying for good.

“You can let him go, Devas... He won’t hurt you,” Millia wrote beside me. I felt her gaze fixed on the fallen armor.

“That’s not my fear,” I muttered. The General couldn’t harm me, even if he wanted to. I didn’t release the bindings I had placed on the armor and added, “I’m not worried about myself, Millia, but about you.”

She created a small green hand and poked my cheek twice before pointing downward and shaping the words: “Trust me, just let him go.”

She seemed... not exactly like herself, but better than before. She was still sad—I’d been around Millia long enough to pick up on the nuances of her emotions, even though she was a slime—but she seemed better than a few minutes ago.

I looked at the armor for a moment longer before stepping back, lifting my foot off the metal and withdrawing the black hands of the Bone Helm and my shadow, along with the Nightmares within it.

The General remained motionless on the ground, like the corpse he was, before slowly starting to move. He used his arms to push himself up and turn—not towards me, but towards Millia—and began to kneel.

He placed his right knee on the ground, resting his left arm—with the shield—on his left knee, while his right fist, melted around the hilt of his sword, struck the floor. As with all his movements, there was no sound except for the creak of his armor and the faint hum emanating from within.

He didn’t speak, react, or move further. He simply knelt, head bowed to the ground.

“I was sure he’d try to attack me with renewed fury upon realizing you were with me,” I remarked to the slime on my shoulder, while keeping my gaze fixed on the armor in front of me. “I imagine you know why that didn’t happen.”

“Slimes can communicate with words, even though I don’t have that ability yet. It’s a bit complicated... But I’ll learn!” The small hand Millia had created scratched the back of what would be her neck, if she had one. “But the most common form of communication is through mana. All slimes are born with the ability to infuse their emotions and feelings into their mana. That’s how most, if not all, communicate, especially when not speaking to other species.”

A new piece of information, one I had no idea about. But it made sense, given that slimes were essentially mana condensed into a gelatinous form around a core, which was also primarily made of mana.

“I’m doing it right now. My mana was hidden while I was inside your armor. Now, I’m transmitting how I feel to Uncle Pinky’s core...” Millia explained after a moment.

I focused on Millia’s mana for a moment.

It was subtle, so subtle that I wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t mentioned it. Her mana was the same, but there was a sort of... wavelength—if I could call it that—different about it. The best comparison that came to mind was a whale’s sonar, only silent.

Again, it made sense, but something about the explanation didn’t add up.

“You said his core is broken, didn’t you?” I asked. Damn, the guy was a corpse.

Millia hesitated for a moment, her gel darkening slightly as if blushing, before forming the words: “I did... I wasn’t sure it would work, since his core is fragmented inside his body, but luckily, it did! :D”

I blinked, turning my head to the small slime in the corner of my vision.

“You weren’t sure and still asked me to trust you?”

“But I was confident!” She pointed at me with her small green hand. “And if something went wrong, I was also confident you’d protect me!”

Somehow, the words she shaped seemed confident too. I shook my head lightly, amused. Millia’s body trembled for a moment as if laughing—and I knew she was—before the tremor slowly subsided.

“...Can I tell a story?”

I looked at the words forming slowly and then at the General kneeling on the ground, giving a simple nod. Millia stood still for a full second before beginning to shape her words.

“Uncle Pinky isn’t really my uncle. Neither Dad nor Mom have siblings. It wasn’t common back then. Before Dad unified all slimes under his banner, it was rare for more than one slime to survive the spring where they were born.”

“Spring?” I asked before she could continue.

I had a vague idea of how slimes were born—at least in nature. The bestiary I had documented that. But that was the reality of today’s Terraria, not of the time when the King Slime wasn’t even a king, however many years ago.

As for the other method of birth, I had no idea and certainly wouldn’t be the one to ask Millia how it worked. But if someone else did, I’d definitely be the one to beat them up.

“Spring is the name given to places conducive to the birth of slimes. They’re usually circular clearings located directly above Mana Stone veins or within caves near the surface,” Millia explained with the tone of someone reciting words from a book or lecture. “Of course, slimes can be born outside springs, but that’s rarer... or at least it was.”

Millia’s unease was palpable. This wasn’t the first time she acted this way whenever today’s slimes were mentioned. To her, they were strange, hollow, and soulless—as she’d written many times. After a slight shiver, she continued.

“Uncle Pinky isn’t Dad’s spring sibling, much less Mom’s. Dad said he was born alone—I still think he was lying! And Mom was a creation of Aunt Alice.”

So, in translation: basically, Millia’s dad had genocided all his siblings in the spring where he was born, and her mom was a pet of the Empress of Light... Not the strangest thing I’d heard about slimes.

I shrugged mentally and remained silent, letting her continue shaping the words.

“But even though he wasn’t born at the same time or in the same spring as Dad, he still called him his brother. His one and true brother, the first slime he trusted with his life. That’s why he’s my uncle... And now he’s dead... I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

The little slime seemed down, her letters trembling, reflecting her sadness. Millia jumped off my shoulder after those words, landing softly on the ground before the armor. I tensed as the armor moved, ready to obliterate it if something happened. It wasn’t necessary.

The armor merely bowed its head lower, never once looking directly at Millia, like a soldier or a loyal guard.

"Uncle Pinky was Dad's personal guard, as well as the General of his army. He loved telling jokes whenever he wasn’t on duty. Dad loved them, Mom found them dull — but I knew she secretly enjoyed them too, even if she tried to hide it. I loved the stories he told, especially the one about the first time he and Dad fought."

Millia slowly walked to the front of the armor as she continued her story.

"Dad mistook Uncle Pinky for a baby slime when they first met and never let him live it down," she seemed happy at the memory before explaining, "Uncle Pinky was born with a peculiarity: his gel was much denser and tougher than a normal slime's, but that made him smaller and more vulnerable to blunt impacts. Dad always laughed when he remembered how Uncle Pinky would fly like a kite with just a little shove."

There was a nostalgic tone in her voice, but it was a nostalgia tinged with sadness — an emotion no child should carry. Millia stopped a few inches away from the armor.

"He trained himself to absorb blows like no one else, didn’t he?" I asked.

"He did," Millia confirmed with a nod, not turning around. "Only Dad could match Uncle Pinky, but even he couldn’t surpass him."

For a few seconds, she didn’t write anything, just ‘stared’ at the General in front of her.

"Uncle Pinky fused himself with his Palladium armor somehow... That must have hurt so much..."

Without hesitation, Millia leapt closer to the armor and shaped her body, creating a small green tendril.

The moment her gel touched the metal, it cracked, glowing in a vibrant pink hue. First, a small crack appeared, then quickly spread from the fist to the wrist, then up the forearm, consuming the entire arm before spreading across the armor.

That’s when I realized: it wasn’t the armor cracking on its own but something inside it, forcing its way out. In a matter of seconds, the armor, now completely fractured, glowed brightly in a pink hue before collapsing into brittle pieces. It was as if time had finally caught up with the metal, disintegrating it in an instant.

Amidst the remnants was a small pink orb — even smaller than Millia. She was already tiny, barely ten centimeters, but Pink was smaller still, only five centimeters in diameter. Honestly, it was impressive he’d managed to stretch himself enough to fill the armor, as he had seemed much larger while encased in it.

Now that Pinky was fully visible, it was easy to see that his core was shattered. No, less than that — it was just a few scattered fragments floating within the pink gel, which somehow still held its shape, even without a complete core.

"I always knew it was true, always believed Dad and Uncle Pinky when they said so, but… seeing it is different."

The words Millia shaped seemed almost hesitant as she and the lifeless General stared at one another.

"The immortal General... The title is fitting... Who did this to you, Uncle?"

I could feel the blend of emotions permeating her words: admiration, sadness, and something I could only describe as rage. I didn’t interfere. I felt I shouldn’t. Not yet.

Millia shaped another small tendril, this time extending the gel of her body until it touched the other slime’s form. The moment their gels connected, I felt Millia’s mana surge, pulsing intensely within her small frame. A moment later, the General’s body began to glow.

And then, he was gone, absorbed into the now slightly larger and pink-tinted body of the Slime Princess.

Millia shaped four words, carrying a sadness so deep it was almost tangible:

“You can rest now.”

[...]---[...]

Yay, everything in Terraria is kind of sad and confusing!

Well, about the chapter, what can I say?...

I created a lore for the entire world of Terraria, from Goblins to Terrarians, from Fae to Slimes, and so on. Every boss or named creature in the world has a lore behind it... or almost all of them, I might have forgotten someone.

In Pink’s case, I played around with the description he has in the game, in addition to, of course, creating my own thing. He was inspired by two characters: Igris, from Solo Leveling, and Artorias, from Dark Souls. For all intents and purposes, he was the most loyal knight of the King Slime and the person he trusted the most.

Just like the Deerclops, he was also pretty... well, nerfed to hell. Fifteen thousand years is a long time. Interestingly, both of them had similar fates...

As for the Vortex Pillar, that's something I plan to talk more about over time, just like the Solar Pillar, which has been mentioned before.

Lastly, Millia... The little Princess Slime is one of Terraria's protagonists. I won’t say the exact number, but if Devas didn’t exist, there would be a few beings who would be the protagonists in the world. Millia is one of them.

I plan to develop her more in the future. I really like her character. I like slimes in general, and I ended up creating a lore for them that I think is really cool, and I plan to introduce it as soon as I can, especially the King Slime. This guy is kind of monstrous...

Well, I think that’s it. I’ve written a lot and it’s late, I need to go to sleep, it’s about 4 in the morning. Good Night everyone, and happy reading!

PS: It was obvious that Millia would imitate Devas in several things.

PPS: There’s a reason it’s Pink and not Pinky. It’s silly, but it will be explained in the next chapter.