That Time I Got Isekai’d Again and Befriended a Slime

"I'm not done with you yet."

Drake shoves himself to his feet, specks of tree bark littering his shoulder-length salt and pepper hair. He raises his arms, covered by his inky black, long-sleeved tunic, and extends them slightly with his left hand in front of his right.

One of the sleeves has a fist-sized hole, scorched around the edges. The battle damage matches a gash through the thigh of his similarly colored pants. He'd been dressed for stealth, for all that means now.

Because now, there's no time for that sort of thing. He's grateful, at least, that this outfit is good for combat as well. His boots represent that much outright, crunching the grass as he slides his feet into a more favorable position.

His hands pull back slightly, held in a claw shape with palms facing him and knuckles at his opponent.

"Is that so?"

You caught me off guard before… but I'm ready now. There's no point in running, anyway. Not anymore. 

"You're here for revenge, I suppose—" He taunts, shadows swirling around his shoulders, "—but I hope you're not expecting a different outcome. This won't end as easily as our last fight."

"…you're right." The green lightning intensifies, a deep subsonic vibration loud even at this distance. "It won't."

Mary lifts her foot and a blur she's gone where-

There!

Drake drags his right foot back, liquid shadow trailing it and his fist.

Mary appears. His guard rises too slow, her elbow slamming into his wrist.

WHAM!

Shockwave. His shadows disperse, lightning tearing through them.

Then, a fist. Slap it down, duck inside her guard-

"GRCK!!" Spit flies from his mouth.

Ducking under, Mary's shoulder buries itself in his gut, blasting him back. His boots leave skid marks in the grass and dirt. Before he can blink, she leaps, a roundhouse kick-

Arms thrown up, his bones shudder. She spins into a second kick, her heel an arc.

One, two.

Neon green scorches his skin and lights up the forest. He pulls back; she lands, punches.

Three.

Her knuckles skid across his forearm, his ear, and he's in, sending a right straight-

It flies over her head. She hits the ground spinning, hooking his ankle. He stumbles back, barely over it, and she spins on her hands, kicking up-

The wind and lightning from her heel cut a line in his tunic.

Drake darts back, ducking behind a tree, pressing his back flat against the truck and rolling to the other side right as she rises and punches straight. Smash! It buries deep in the bark, and the tree shudders, before snapping from the bottom up.

Drake comes around before it splits, slashing at her with a roundhouse kick, just as she's rising, yanking her hand from the trunk-

Right here-!

WHAM!

Mary forces herself up, meets the blow with her shoulder. She wraps her arm around his leg, then pivots, yanking and flinging him behind her.

Bitch! Drake snarls. Then crashes.

He bounces more than once, ripping up the soil. Flipping to his feet, he lands, followed by a flash of green lightning.

Fuck off!

He raises an X-guard, the neon around her fist ripping apart his shadows, her fist cratering and cracking the flesh of his forearm.

Drake's jaw tightens, rips his arms open. A burst of air, blood spitting from his left forearm.

Gaining space, a single moment. Then-

One punch, glowing with swirling, white-hot sparks.

It's aimed his face, a killing blow.

"Amputate: Python, Lycaon!"

Shadows ooze and interlock, dark scales covering his arms. He pulls them up over his face, then below, the claws of a Lycaon stretching from his torso, slashing out-

Mary drops, her punch smashing into his foot, cracking the ground underneath. The resulting pain flares up his leg, locking his knee.

His balance shifts on shattered and uneven ground, slipping, and he tilts back and flexes his abdominals, twisting-

He lashes out with a backhanded, scale-covered fist.

There!

Her palm slams into chest, and his knuckles into her face.

She's knocked back, bending backwards and nearly falling over, before catching herself.

He's forced back, limping and hopping, quickly forcing himself to heal.

"Amputate: Crow."

At the same time, feathery shadows crawl up his forearms and over his fists, painting them and the skin just under his eyes with the color of a yawning, sinewy abyss.

Mary crashes forward. He deflects her first punch, neon sparks shredding through the dark feathers on his left forearm, and punches with his right. She catches it, wraps her arm around his and yanks him down.

WHAM!

Her hard head slams into his own. He reels, lashing out with his other arm, the shadows gone but his knuckles sharp, snapping into her brow.

Her head snaps back. She doesn't let go, instead grabbing the wrist of that arm and yanking him down.

WHAM!!

All he sees are stars.

WHAM!!!

Something cracks that time. The part of his brain that isn't being battered by the sides of his own skull screams at him, telling him to do something, anything-

Mary yanks him down again, and the shadows along his body explode. Vicious, razor-sharp spikes stabbing out like a porcupine.

They separate. Blood paints their foreheads, trickling down either side of their noses.

He has enough time to realize she isn't stabbed through with several holes, despite his last attack, before she's stopped stumbling and started attacking once more.

His head is pounding. It's hard to think, so he takes a page out of her book, and doesn't.

Ducking back, then attacking, again and again. A flurried exchange, the very dirt and air trembling. Head pounding. Drops of blood falling in slow motion, then bursting apart in mid-air.

Again. Blurs of movements, with little to no regard for self-preservation. Bursts of wind, deflecting, blocking, cracking, crashing-

Nigh Natural disasters, smashing into one another with all the finesse of something that is purely meant to be. There is no other outcome, other than these two here and now, threatening to rend the other into nothing.

Nothing else matters. There is no right or wrong.

She is wild, and he is controlled. They find their match in each other here and now, diametrically opposed despite, also, their similarities. Or, more accurately, the similarities between the "her" of another life and him.

CRASH!

They separate, forced a short distance apart.

Inhale. Exhale.

A warm breeze ruffles the forest canopy. Heavy breathing accompanies the crunching of grass, the crackle of lightning, the slithering of liquid shadow.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

They lock eyes, waiting for the other to make a move.

The wild beast eases herself into a wide, low stance. Left leg facing Drake, right leg back, with both arms raised and half extended, with her left fist slightly in front of her right.

Opposite of her, Drake does the same. He settles into that low stance, with the same left forward and right back. His hands, however, are clawed, palm half facing her.

They wait. One second.

One singular second, half of a breath inhaled. Full breath, then exhaling hot and painful.

. . .

Blood rushing. The faint breeze in the air cool and wet.

Breathe in.

Hot. Their bodies are hot, burning, hearts beating, beating, beating-

Holding that breathe, oxygen flooding the blood-

Drake's fingers twitch.  

Mary steps, lashing out high. He deflects, palm strikes back, blocked.

A blurred flurry of deflections and blows.

One, two- three!

He grabs her forearm, shadows latching on, stabbing-

She grabs his tunic with her other hand, yanking-

Her head smashes into his own, again. But she lets go first, her blood smearing, then oozing into one of her eyes.

"Lycaon!"

With a snarl, the shadows under Drake's arms flow in front, a wolf-like creature her height forming and lunging in the same second.

Mary squeezes her eye shut, catches the shade, and crushes its throat. Green electricity rips through the mulch that remains, right as Drake kicks straight through its disintegrating torso, boot slamming into her stomach and launching her back.

Fuck! Drake stumbles, his balance shot by the pressure in his head. Fuck!!!

Mary rolls, ending her tumble in a crouch several meters away. Clutching at her stomach, she retches, though nothing comes out other than spit.

Away from her, Drake sways, catching himself with a quick step back. Wheezing, barely managing to stay on his feet. He hisses under his breath as the world spins.

He has to let his pulped left arm hang limp. With his other hand, he wipes the blood on his forehead away, before it can mess up his vision. Then, palm stained an unnaturally dark red, he prods at the space just behind one of his ears.

Aura flows from the digits and into his head. The sense of vertigo disappears, though slower than he'd like. Clarity and recognition follow.

More than a few bones are cracked, and his left forearm, at the very least, is broken clean through in multiple places. There's a fist-shaped crater in that same forearm, too, and his foot almost as bad.

Green sparks dance over and on various parts of his body. With a grunt, he floods his body with spiritual energy, trying to stave off the worst of it. Some of the sparks disappear. Some don't.

They resist him.

Pain. He's familiar with it, but this is new. This pain lingers in a way it shouldn't. Every time the spiritual half of his existence regenerates the physical half, the process slows.

It shouldn't work that way, but it does. He's being worn down.

With more effort than he's comfortable with, he flexes with magical aura, dissipating the rest of the sparks. His injuries, however... he grunts, forcing his energy into his forearm, foot, and chest.

Painstakingly knitting himself back together. Another low, pained hiss scrapes through his teeth, as he realizes the true extent of the damage.

They can't be healed fully.

The bones knit back together, but they're tender and more fragile than before. It'll slow him down, barely. But in this situation, "barely" is enough to be dangerous. Further, his left forearm is a mess, a literal fist-indent surrounded by bruised and bloody flesh.

In response to this, Drake focused his efforts fully on healing his chest and foot. Mobility is king right now, and unobstructed breathing equally so.

This in progress, he forces himself to look up, just in time to see Mary getting to her feet. It's slow, and her balance wobbles. Half of her face, the left side especially, is painted in her own blood.

She doesn't seem to care, barely bothering to wipe it out of her eyes.

Drake glances around quickly. He notes the position of the trees closest to him, and his aura flexes in response. He can heal enough to move, in time, but no more.

Let's try… this, then.

He holds his right hand at his hip, clawed, darkness dripping between the gaps in his fingers. Peeling away from the shadow at his feet, blobs of black slither through the grass behind him.

Mary's aura flares, and before he can blink, she moves.

Drake drags his hand high, an oozing half-dome of shadow flaring in front of him. Spikes follow, stabbing out from bottom to top.

Mary skids, trying to stop, and Drake clenches his hand into a fist, knuckles squishing into the mud-like darkness.

The spikes on the other side extend. Taking advantage of Mary's momentum, they shoot out, stabbing through her like a hot knife in butter-

Or at least, that's what should have happened.

Mary dodges. She leaps to the side, a ball of green electricity, kicking off a tree to another, then another, bouncing from tree to tree around him fast enough that zipping neon green lines crackle all around him.

Drake spins, turns left, then right. His head whips back and forth until he's dizzy, the half-dome of shadow turning into an oozing crescent arc just beyond his right hand and arm.

Where, where, when.

The sound changes, from a crackling, constant hum to a sharp buzz. Drake reacts, spinning, his shadows covering the space in front of him.

He'd guessed wrong.

He realizes it almost too late, stepping forward, spinning, and raising his bad arm.

The shin of Mary's boot slams into it once, twice.

The force and angle of the first dislocates it outright, the second breaking and shoving it against his shoulder, and then he's flung back, rolling and landing on his back. Two trees sit just before him, on either side.

I don't… understand.

He thinks, his entire left side a white-hot spike trap. He tries to push himself up.

Having touched down and immediately launched herself in his direction once more, Mary appears before his collapsed form like a Revelation, static to the senses and glowing with a power that shuns the natural order.

It curls around her, stretching out into the air in arcs.

And even now, she has yet to draw her sword. Whatever object is secured to her back, it remains swathed in fabric and rope. She's destroying him at close-range, even without them.

I thought I would understand you… but I don't. 

Drake flexes his right hand, the shadows of those trees in front, on either side of him convulsing. A trap.

If she's destroying him at close-range, then it's time to be more creative.

They shoot out from the trunks like geysers, sideways pillars that crash and cocoon her in the middle. Her aura is snuffed out, for one exciting and stupidly hopeful second.

You're like me. Aren't you? You should understand why I did it, because that's what you're doing now, right? So, I should be fine with this. I get it. 

The shadows ooze and drip mud, negating physical resistance. Quickly, however, that mud-like darkness solidifies, then cracks, then shatters, as neon green electricity floods the imperfect gaps and disintegrates any and all magical cohesion.

You have every right to kill me, and I should have every right to kill you. No surprises, no oddities. Just a mirror. That's how it should be. 

Mary hits the ground, and this time, Drake attacks without pause.

But somehow, you're completely different.

From behind the tree to Mary's left, a howling wolf beast emerges. Leaping, it snaps at her, claws lashing out.

Mary catches the hastily formed Lycaon by the throat, slamming it into a similar beast leaping at her other side. Even before this, however, the first is disintegrating from her touch.

Green lightning flares from her palm, ripping through the creatures.

Drake attacks next, on her other side, one of the trees directly behind him. Left arm cradled uselessly at his side, he punches straight with his other. Calculated. Too low to duck under, and if he's right-

Mary grabs his forearm, the shadows on his fist wilting under her glow. She yanks him, and going by the fight so far, her next move will cave in either his skull or chest.

Her other arm pulls back, a self-fulfilling prophecy.

"Go!"

But he'd planned on that.

From the canopy of the tree behind him, another Lycaon falls, snarling. As Mary punches, it covers her arm with its body and latches onto her wrist. Those jaws rev like a chainsaw, razor-sharp shadows spinning and ripping into her.

At the same time, the shadows over Drake's right shoulder and upper arm explode, a Crow this time stabbing out and clawing at her face.

Like before, the sharpest edges are dulled by that bright green aura.

She doesn't flinch, merely dropping her hold and grabbing at the Crow. It shatters into black slime under her fingers, right as Drake slams his knee upward, something cracking.

This time, Mary is the one launched bodily through a gap in the trees.

I… thought so.

Instead of pursing, Drake leans against the nearest tree, catching his breath. Away from him, Mary tumbles backwards, first into a roll, then a crouch. Just like before.

Her aura flares, and over her right arm, his surprise Lycaon disintegrates before it can even whimper.

A flash of mixed irritation and sympathy is squashed in short order.

Lycaon's jaws should have torn clean through her arm. Instead, she's hardly bleeding. 

Her right coat sleeve has holes in it, and through that, claw marks can partially be seen. Dark red leeches into the dark green fabric, stopping once it reaches those strange, gunmetal forearm bracers of hers.

Small, light-colored scratches dot the metal surface. What are they made of?

That's all he's done? No, the blood he sees on her face wasn't all there earlier.

That Unique aura weakens magic? Energy? Even physical attacks from my shades lose strength on contact. Normal strength, physical blows and cuts are fine, but… that aura, on top of her wild fighting style… I can barely keep up with her in close quarters. I can't keep up with her alone. Even glancing blows can weaken me, and every actual hit is extremely dense. 

Several meters away, Mary stands, slowly. Her left eye is half-shut, forehead painted and dripping blood down from her face. The lightning imbued in her aura has diminished, but even as he watches, the intensity and glow slowly revs back up.

Worse… she's getting stronger every time she takes damage. 

He presents this fact clinically, without any of the panic or irritation a lesser being might show. And, he notes just as clinically, her wounds aren't just bleeding into her coat.

Slow as it may be… they're healing.

Regeneration? And with little to no regard for self-preservation… it's like fighting a wild beast. A "Blitz" style, which essentially nullifies inherent protections. What a troublesome combination of techniques. Her abilities seem uniquely suited to fighting stronger foes. 

Drake coughs, specks of blood and spittle staining his mouth. He wipes his mouth roughly with his palm, glaring down at the stain.

Monster. Logically, there's no reason to assume she's grown stronger than me between our last meeting and this one. Time constraints, effort, etc. But even then, fighting her like this, on her terms and on her turf… can I really hunt this beast?

Drake breathes in and doesn't cough this time. He exhales slowly, his dark, liquid aura leeching into the surrounding area.

Think bigger. Be more creative. Her power is in her physical capabilities. Not just strength or speed, but reaction time, a sixth sense for danger, the ability to ignore pain… if I can overwhelm her, then I can win. 

A growing confidence. His shadow expands along the forest floor, a pitch-black puddle growing into a pond, then a lake.

It's true that her output is higher than last time, and thus, at close range, I'm at a heavy disadvantage. I won't be able to count on regeneration for much longer. So, I should switch to mid- and long-range attacks.

All around him, countless beasts of dripping shadows take shape. His own shadow is a circle under his feet and around him now, shapes and limbs rising from the pool and slithering together into animalistic forms.

Before, I would be hesitant to do so. I felt her ability to weaken my shades from afar last time we fought. However… I was testing for that. And not once did it occur.

Drake floods his shadow and shades with power. Across from him, Mary sparks, her aura burning brighter.

Her new style of attack, that Blitz and aura, seems to extend that Unique power across her entire body. Obvious enough. Then, can I assume that the "sight" component of her doesn't extend beyond her body in this state? Going by results, extending that energy across her body seems more beneficial. That must make the sacrifice of the "sight" component worth it.

The evidence of this is in the smooth flow of magical and spiritual energies from within himself to the growing and sculping shades around him. She's not interrupted him once; has not even made the effort.

How foolish! Even if it hurts or is less beneficial, you should be prepared to use everything to win. Here and now, I'll force you to use it! Here and now, I can freely expend my magicules for use in creation and animation, alongside reinforcement and enhancement of my own physical capabilities. Range and close combat are no longer an issue. 

Activation of the Unique Skill: Limited Transfiguration. Then, flooding his shadow with magicules and his Spirit Magic to fuel the initial manifestation.

Whether you continue your Blitz, or you switch to cutting me off from long-range, I have the upper hand now. Because you have to make a choice.

Through his Skill, Drake corrupts spirits, breaks them down, then recreates them as shades. The result of this is a great number of stored "blueprints" for spirit-like entities, using his shadow or the shadows along his body as both storage and a foundation for his shades.

By expanding the breadth of his shadows, and freely expending both types of energy…

Limited Transfiguration… 

The downside of this technique is in the high energy requirement, as anti-magic barriers will show. Further, creative applications, such as through the "Amputation" technique, are also dependent on this factor.

Hence the use of a single, pre-manifested shade during his attack against Tempest. After all, manifesting enough shades to effectively endanger a foe on the level of her would have drained too much of his reserves before ever entering the barriers or fight.

But here?

He's not facing a foe on the level of Tanya, who requires meticulous planning and outright cheating in order to kill. Mary's base speed and physical power may be more difficult to deal with due to her Unique ability, but without the limitations of the anti-magic barriers…

If she or anything else can't stop him from using the energy for manifestations or extended techniques, then there's no reason not to go all out, is there?

…Extension!

Drake spreads his arms wide, more shadows dripping from his arms, pitch black and viscous like mucous or slime. His black long sleeves almost seem to suck in light now.

"Lycaon. Grim. Orthrus. Arachne. Harpy. Crow. Stymphalian. Python. Glycon."

Bipedal and quadrupedal wolves, two-headed dogs, giant spiders, humanoid birds, corvids both blackened and armored, serpents… and those of a more unnatural origin.

"Apophis. Nemean. Manticore. Griffin. Chimera."

Monsters, in the horrific sense of the word. Melded parts of animals and beasts clinging to each other with sticky, gelatin-esque shadows.

Keep pushing out the energy I need, as much as it takes! I injured her with only a few, so with everything… I'll batter her from every angle, overload her senses, until all I need is one lucky attack. All I need is one mistake, and…

Drake's battalion of shaded creations snaps and howls at his feet. They loom all around him.

"Go."

He watches closely for Mary's next move, ready to react to anything. He watches as Mary raises her left hand and wipes the blood out of her eye. He watches as she brings that same hand down ever so slightly, to cover her mouth. As she gathers her energy once more and glares at him defiantly, her eyes and aura spark neon green.

The channel between him and his Unique Skill remains open, and as a result, he believes his theory is correct. Whilst expanding the scope of her technique, her Skill, across her entire body, she cannot use it at distance. Either the benefits of using it in close combat trumps using it at distance, or the backlash from centralizing such a power isn't worth it during an extended fight.

However, he's not so foolish as to count it out. It's simply something to be less concerned about. Compared to her Blitz, anything else is little to no trouble at all.

This is the conclusion Drake reaches:

I'll win.

Calmly, he gives the command to attack, clapping his hands together and covering his shoulders in shadows.

Then, "Amputate, Pegasus."

Dripping darkness shoots out from his shoulders, forming massive, pitch-black wings. More shadows ooze across his torso, like a harness.

He wasn't foolish enough to take to the sky when she was chasing him. He would have practically been asking to get shot in the back. But right now, it's time to use the open space.

In the process, he doesn't notice how Mary's neon green light is particularly bright just underneath her fingers and palm, nor how she reaches for the tarp and twine-secured object on her back.

-=-

For all intents and purposes, these two are nearly equals. If we were to compare their level of strength to others, both would fall handedly into the category of almost Demon Lord Seed. A fair fight between these two would, logically, come down to the wire.

But the most likely outcome would always end with Drake standing victorious. He is simply too experienced and too driven. Even though Mary Sue's own drive and passion could outweigh his own, there is no denying his ability and experience as a fighter.

In truth, his need to weaken Tanya beforehand should not be seen as a detractor at all. Instead, it's the sign of a competent fighter acknowledging his weakness. Further, her Unique abilities and dual magicule pools, combined with her own extensive combat experience and logical, ruthless mindset, meant that she was simply that strong as a combatant.

Mary is not on that level. This is a fact.

However!

That assumption of likely victory is based on Mary's previous strength, combined with a safe estimate on Drake's part as to how her power might have grown since their last meeting. Erring on the side of caution, and based on new information, he acknowledges her strength, yet determines that he is still superior.

This is a reasonable assumption to make, and not entirely inaccurate.

But you see, Drake could not have known. For while his own experience and his commitment to strength may theoretically outweigh her own, there is one thing he could never hope to match.

Mary Sue's pure, unbridled desire. A desire to win, to change, to defeat him over anything else… and, naturally, her unfathomable potential.

It's been stated before, but Mary Sue is not normal. Her name might as well indicate it in some ironic twist of fate. It is the aspect of the prodigy, alongside the more recent boons of heightened senses, superhuman wells of physical strength, speed, and magical power.

And, of course, the Unique Skill: Ability Severance. Which, admittedly, is a bit of a misnomer.

Imagine a better version of myself, who freely steps beyond my limits. Don't try to structure it; don't force it. Just feel the energy, know what you want, and make use of it that way. 

Let's pull back the veil. Ability Severance isn't strictly a "severing" power.

Rather, the Skill creates an incredibly malleable, Unique form of energy that can be used to "sever" the connection between a person and their abilities.

In order to effectively do this, Ability Severance copies the energy signature of its target – whether it be a Skill, a spell, or beyond – then creates an inverted form of this energy signature within its own Unique energy.

Effectively, if the energy consisting of Drake's Limited Transfiguration is "positive Transfiguration energy", then in response to Mary's desire to "sever" his connection to it, the Unique energy of Ability Severance becomes "negative Transfiguration energy".

This is the reason abilities like Regeneration, Greater Fire Resistance, or the like are difficult to "sever". Because they are so closely attuned to their host, the energy signature of abilities like these is difficult to fully ascertain.

Difficult. Some more than others.

But regardless, this leaves the door open for a very fortunate power of her own.

"Haah…"

Ability Severance…

Mary exhales, literal steam hissing through her teeth.

Her eyes glow neon, her fingerprints and the creases of her hands traced with that familiar bright green. The power thrums violently, an ocean that cannot be contained.

But it is her power. She makes use of it, not the other way around.

…Extension!

The crackle of lightning. A subsonic hum.

Mary reaches over her shoulder, to the covered object held across her back. Her hand slips through an opening in the fabric, grasping the hidden golden metal underneath.

Drake's spear.

In… and out. Focus on that feeling…

In the process of using Ability Severance, Mary has become familiar with a great number of inverted energy signatures for a great number of what Ability Severance designates as "abilities".

She is grateful, then, that the power stored within Drake's spear is, in fact, stored within the spear itself. So very grateful. Moreover, that she has witnessed similar abilities firsthand, thus making what she's about to do next… rather simple, comparatively.

She'd already done it once, just the other day. So, here and now…

…got it. There.

Far in front of her, Drake's shades continue to burst free from his shadow, a literal hoard of shadowed creations carving a path through the grass and trees.

The fastest ones, longer legged creatures of varying parts and origins, curl around the sides of the trees, darting through the undergrowth. Wolves on both four legs and two, smaller wolf-like creatures she doesn't recognize… heading straight for her are larger ones. Serpents larger than her leg, jaguars and mountain lions, and chimeras of all of these and more.

There are even birds from small to dangerously large careening through the canopy of leaves above, picking up speed and making to dive at her. It is a wave of darkness looming ahead, ready to crash down on her.

Right now, he probably thinks I can't stop him. So, he'll keep making shades, using up his reserves bit by bit, wasting as much as possible…

It's almost overwhelming.

There.

Right as they all converge on her position, Mary stomps one foot forward, the ground cracking, as she throws his spear-

-=-