Hazel’s reaction to her companion waking was admittedly the slightest bit dramatic. Her eyes shot open, and she spun sideways to see Mia there, starting to prop herself up against the same wall Hazel was leaning on. Hazel instinctively reached out and grabbed her hands.

“Mia! Are you okay?”

Mia blinked rapidly at Hazel, then looked down at their hands. Hazel let go. She was too relieved to be embarrassed at the overly friendly action.

“I’m perfectly well,” Mia said. “Beyond feeling like death, of course. What happened?” Even as she talked, she pulled out a red vial—a health potion—from her inventory. She made to tip it back, but Hazel yelped, “Wait!”

Mia paused, then gave her a questioning look, potion half raised to her lips.

“I already gave you one of those,” Hazel said. “You said there’s limits to how many you can take, but I don’t know how that works. Can you overdose?”

“You gave me one? While I was unconscious?”

“The best I could, but yes.”

“How? Which? The one that I gave you?”

“Yeah.”

“But weren’t you also hurt?” Mia asked, confused. “Neither of us were in great shape—I definitely remember that.”

“I found another in the miniboss’s loot chest,” Hazel said. “I took that one.”

“But you gave me yours first.”

“Of course.”

Mia gave her an odd look. She considered the health potion, then tipped it back anyway. She wiped her lips, then deposited the vial into her inventory.

“The limit’s more than one,” Mia said. “It’s more of a sliding limiter. A certain number over a long period, but they can be taken in quick succession or spread out. Here, take a second as well.” She called another of the vials out of her inventory and made to pass it over.

“Oh,” Hazel said. “Um, I don’t need it. But thank you.”

“You don’t?”

“I have a new skill.”

“Recovery based?” Mia asked. “You do seem unusually healthy.”

“Yeah. I just got it. Like, minutes before you woke up. I was trying to get something to heal you, but only got a personal heal instead.”

“Only?” Mia quoted with some amusement. “A personal heal is a coveted ability. You ought to be ecstatic.”

“Now that you’re awake, I am.”

Mia paused, then shook her head. “You ought to be more concerned over yourself,” she said chidingly. “I was clearly alive, so you should have prioritized picking a skill purely on what suited you. That affects you for the rest of your life, you know.”

“Says the girl who nearly got herself killed for some stranger?”

“Yes, well—“ Mia paused, trying to come up with a retort.

“Let me guess. It’s your duty as a lady?”

“Precisely,” Mia said with a glare.

“Thank you for that, by the way.” A thank-you wasn’t remotely enough, but it was all Hazel could give.

Mia sniffed and glanced away. “It was nothing.”

The incredible part was that Hazel thought Mia meant it. To her, it was nothing; simply an assumed duty. What an odd woman that she’d picked up as an ally.

“So what now?” Hazel asked. “You’re okay? You’re sure?”

“Tired,” Mia said. “And health potions only go so far. But yes, I’m okay.” She winced as she adjusted in place. “Think I’d like to rest for a little while longer. And get clean.”

A clear vial appeared in her hand, and Hazel recognized it as cleansing elixir—the liquid Mia used to wipe away all the grime that came with dungeon delving life. The fight against the abyssal melder had been especially messy. Mia poured the clear liquid into her hands and rubbed them together, then started spreading it across herself, starting with her face.

Hazel politely turned away, since as she worked her way down her body and started spreading it across her clothes—and inside her clothes—the process was rather personal.

“Can I ask you to do my hair?” Mia asked. “It’s a headache to get it in properly myself.”

“Of course.” Turning back around, Mia had gotten most of her body, and she’d been restored back to her naturally pristine self. Well, beyond lingering acid burns on her skin, of which some were still angry looking—though mostly healed. As she’d put it, health potions only went so far.

Mia handed the vial over and turned around. Hazel poured the liquid into her hands, worked it into a lather, then started running it through Mia’s hair. The grime, dirt, blood, tar, and every other mess found in the dungeon disappeared as if by magic as her fingers passed through long pink tresses. The liquid foamed, but not as much as shampoo. It had to be worked in pretty well to get everything, and if she missed a spot, she would have to rub and give it extra attention to get the filth to go away. That was probably why Mia had asked for help; it would be difficult to do alone.

She was glad her gooey fingers didn’t cause any problems. While she was sticky to the touch, even to herself, if she focused on controlling her body, she didn’t leave behind residue.

“You really have the most gorgeous hair,” Hazel commented idly. She was trying not to focus on how intimate the act felt. Mia seemed to think nothing of it. “Is it natural?”

“Natural?”

“Dyed? Or is pink how it grows?”

“It’s not dyed. But now I’m curious about how a slime knows about people dying their hair.”

Hazel continued to work the cleaning solution in. She considered how to respond. She certainly trusted Mia at this point, but revealing her true backstory seemed unwise—mostly because it was too unbelievable, and would surely cause problems. For now, she wanted to keep Earth, and her past life, to herself. Not out of distrust, but simply for convenience. She didn’t want Mia to think she’d gone insane, or whatever else. Acting like she was a slime reborn with an oddly comprehensive understanding of the world was easier to deal with for both of them.

“I don’t understand it myself,” Hazel said. “I know a bunch of stuff, but also don’t know plenty. It’s very odd.”

“It must be disorienting,” Mia said. She was quiet for a moment, then said, “You know, you behave in such a way that I can only assume you weren’t always a slime.”

Hazel stiffened. “Oh?”

“What that means, I can’t begin to guess,” Mia said. “But it’s all I can imagine. You have past memories of some sort. Do you remember anything? Personal? That would give you a hint as to what happened?”

Hazel hated to lie directly, but it was simply the easier option. “Not really.”

“I see,” Mia said.

They were quiet for a few moments, Hazel studiously working away at getting Mia cleaned. Her long pink hair was really incredible—she was almost transfixed watching the tresses pour through her fingers. It was the color of bubblegum. Vibrant, glossy, and really the most gorgeous hair she’d ever seen.

“What skill did you get?” Mia asked. “If you don’t mind me asking. I’m curious.”

Hazel didn’t want to bring up her past life, but skills, she was more than happy to divulge. Not just for the advice Mia might be able to offer, but as a show of trust, too. “It’s called [All-Consuming]. I can eat anything and it restores my health, mana, and stamina according to the strength of the item I ate.”

“What do you mean by eat?”

“I can absorb it through my skin. Like how slimes normally do, I guess.”

“How potent is it?”

“Very. I ate about thirty bronze essence coins and it brought me back to full on health and stamina, and I’m at two-thirds on mana now.”

Mia shook her head in incredulity. “You really are getting fantastic skill after fantastic skill.”

It was a perfect segue. She’d wanted to tell Mia about [Skill Edit] for a bit now, and Hazel trusted her completely by this point—for obvious reasons. “I haven’t even told you about the craziest, yet.”

“Oh?”

“[Skill Edit],” Hazel said. “It lets me change how a skill works by modifying the ability’s text. I actually used it to change [Shapeshift] from low proficiency to medium. That’s how I was able to change into a human form after just waking up—I remember you mentioning that didn’t make sense.”

Hazel had expected Mia to be stunned by the reveal, and she very much was. It took several moments for her to find a response, and Hazel continued to play with her hair. It was already clean by this point, but Hazel was kind of addicted to toying with it; the pink tresses were just so silky and beautiful. Hopefully she could sneak in another minute or two. Mia didn’t seem to mind, though she was probably distracted.

“That’s unbelievable, if true,” Mia finally said.

“There’s limitations. But less than I’d figure for something so strong.” Hazel hesitated. “I also changed [Attribute Siphon]. At first it gave me a big, temporary chunk of the opponent’s stats, but I modified it to give me tiny amounts of permanent stats instead.”

“Are you serious?”

“It seemed like it would be good in the long term.”

“That’s putting it lightly!”

“I brought this up for more than just your advice,” Hazel said. “You mentioned that you had some skills that you didn’t like—how your class turned out. I think [Skill Edit] works on other people too. I don’t know for sure, obviously, but it feels right that it would.”

More than the two announcements prior, Mia was left speechless at the implication. Hazel could intuit why. Mia had spent the past few months dealing with some skill or aspect of her class that she hated, and the possibility of maybe fixing it was life-changing—in the literal sense. And something Hazel assumed was otherwise an impossibility in this world. People couldn’t just change their skills.

“It’s the least I could do for you,” Hazel added. “If it works. Like I said, I don’t know for certain. Never tried. But I have enough mana to use it for a third time, and I obviously owe you my life. So.”

Mia didn’t respond, and Hazel gave her time to think. She continued playing with her hair. They stayed that way for longer than Hazel had expected, and she almost considered breaking the silence.

“I need to think about it,” Mia finally said. “It works based on skill text, you said?”

“The less words I have to change, the easier. But also what the change is matters, and honestly there’s probably more factors at play. I just don’t know them. But if the change is too strong, the skill refuses to work.”

“I see.”

“You don’t want me to use it on you?”

“I just need to think,” Mia said. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“That’s fair.”

“What’s the cooldown?”

“I think about twelve hours? Mana’s been more of a problem, so I don’t know.”

“It might work on a sliding scale.”

“What’s that mean?”

“There’s some skills with hard timers. That slime shot of yours is one, I bet. Once every fifteen seconds, you can shoot out a new projectile. But others are like health potions—based on how much, and how strong, the usage of the skill is, the cooldown adjusts.”

“Oh. So, like, if I make a tiny change, the cooldown resets faster?”

“Maybe. It’s just a guess.”

“Makes sense to me. Now that I can get back mana easier, and cooldown’s the bigger issue, I’ll pay attention. Though I think making big changes is better than small ones, even if it resets faster.”

“What’s the strain feel like?” Mia asked. “Rigid, or like you could push through it? More of a struggle than a wall?”

“Definitely the second. A struggle, not rigid.” Except for when trying to use [Skill Edit] on itself.

“It’s probably a variable cooldown,” Mia said with a nod. “Maybe it even stores up charges, so prolonged lack of use means you could use it one, two, or three times in quick succession.” Mia shrugged. “Again, just a guess. Worth finding out. As I was saying, though, I need to think about … my situation. You should use it on yourself.”

“Really?” Again, Hazel was surprised. She could understand Mia needing to think things over, but insisting that Hazel continue making herself stronger was, once again, showcasing Mia’s selflessness. If Hazel could modify Mia’s skills, then Hazel would figure most people would jump at the huge boon offered to them—but Mia was more worried about Hazel getting stronger, so she could properly handle the dungeon.

“What do you have planned for your next change, though?” Mia asked. “It’s hard to even consider how many ways something like that could be used.”

“No joke,” Hazel said. “Um, let’s see. I wanted to ask you too, but I’ve got some of my own ideas.”