Monster no Goshujin-sama

One.

Humans are full of scraps.

I shrunk in the back of a deep cave, constantly tormented by constant pain, but kept vomiting the words of the curse.

That's all I could do.

A body that is exhausted and has not taken a decent break does not move well.

I'm hungry enough that my stomach acid burns my stomach, and I even faint.

Breathing is hot and unstable.

If I'm even sick, I don't have much ahead of me.

I had to admit that I was in a crisis of utter desperation.

Shit. Shit.

I can't believe I'm dying alone in a place like this where I don't know where I am.

You have to see it that way, what sin have I committed?

No, you're not.

I didn't do anything.

It was them who did it. I am only a victim.

So I speak a curse.

By doing so, I try to remain conscious that I'm about to scratch it off.

Because I think maybe when this hatred disappears, it's when my existence disappears.

But as if to laugh at my efforts, I heard something coming from the entrance of the cave.

Sounds like pulling something together.

It's an ominous scrubbing sound, like a soul scraper.

... Don't come. Don't come, don't come!

I scream in my heart, but the sound keeps coming closer and closer.

No more. I can't escape.

In despair, I turned my gaze toward those who made noise.

There was a monster over two metres, with semi-liquid body tissue.

"... ah"

Monsters.

That's what we call it, a natural enemy to humans.

The monster that we call slime for convenience, he found me without a single eyeball. He approached me with an unexpected agility from the looks of it.

I can't even run away. In the first place, I don't even have the strength to get up from here.

Son of a bitch.

My hand, thrown out, is eaten first by intense digestive fluid. The school run I was wearing melted and the pain was transmitted without reaching the exhausted brain marrow, due to paralysis and loss.

Apparently, my life ends here.

I don't like it, I don't like it, I don't like it.

I don't like that.

"... Somebody help me"

I let go of consciousness at the end of those pitiful words.

It was three days later in the morning, despairing of what I called man.