Niwla looked at the internal map that had been created by the Ice Spies. The room they were in happened to be connected right next to a sub-kitchen area. Not just any kitchen. It was Gary Stew's private kitchen.

The Monster Chef normally spent the day away, slicing up fellow monster brethren into whatever culinary abominations that his horrible mind could concoct. Good thing, or bad depending on how you looked at it, during the night he spent it dreaming up even more horrid combinations that guaranteed even more butchery of Monsterkind.

After Niwla escaped, he'd rush straight over to Commander Cooper. With the intel he had, they could launch an all-out assault against the Crimson Gold Sect, with a special squad just for Gary Stew.

Niwla tapped against the thick metal columns that caged him in. They were sturdy, but not sturdy enough.

Frost boiled into flames as the Cold Turkey became a Fire Soldier Ant.

Flames blazing brighter than ever gathered on his mandibles as Winal unleashed a Fire Essence fueled Fire Bite. The teeth sliced through the metallic columns like a hot knife through butter.

Red-hot liquid metal where Winal had bit, dripped down onto the straw-covered ground. The floor was set alight, ravenously eating away as it spread across the entire cage in an instant.

Winal stepped through the inferno, emerging like an ant from hell.

He scuttled toward the door. Like Alwin, subtlety wasn't exactly Winal's strong suit. Flaming mandibles chomped down on the door with another Essence powered Fire Bite. A Winal-sized hole now existed in the middle of the wooden door. Flames burned around its perimeter, eating away at the wooden door.

For the second time, Winal stepped through the inferno, emerging like an ant from hell.

Taking advantage of his unique physiology, Winal scurried up the sides of the wall and toward the ceiling, leaving trails of black dots wherever his feet touched. He looked down from his vantage point, inspecting the room below them.

It was a typical kitchen. Gas stoves, pots and pans dangling from metal hooks, and a butcher block bristling with knives. While certainly deadly, the pan and knives paled in comparison to what Gary Stew carried on his person.

Winal travelled forward and left through the open door. The hallway was clear, and he continued to travel via ceiling. One side of the corridor was drenched crimson, while the other glistening gold. Deep red torches lined up along the gold side while brilliant golden flames lit up the crimson side.

It was exactly as the Ice Spies had mapped. As long as they followed the calculated route, everything would be okay.

Then, voices echoed down the corridor, growing clearer with each passing second.

However, it was well within expectations. A routine nightly patrol. As long as he was on the ceiling, he'd be safe. Only someone like Alwin would look up.

Two figures emerged from around the corner. One robed in red, the other in yellow. Their footsteps were slow, casual, and bored.

"When do you think the young masters are gonna finally ascend their tribulation?" the red-robed one asked.

"Whenever that adventurer chef they found finally makes them a proper dish. I heard the Elders managed to gather some top-tier ingredients, but he somehow burned everything to charcoal because he wasn't paying attention," the yellow-robed patrolman said.

"Please. I heard it was because he tried to steal the ingredients and replace them with low-grade junk."

"Oh yeah, I heard that too. Someone said he found an Ice Elemental Beast and tried to pass it off as cold fire. Can you believe the nerve of that guy?"

"With how the young masters behave, I wouldn't be surprised if they fell for it."

"All the seat's resources at their disposal, and they still ended up like that." The robed man shook his head.

"Hey, don't talk so loud." His companion leaned in close, eyes darting left and right. "Last thing I want is to get in trouble because of your loose lips."

"Alright, I get it. Sorry. Say… do you smell something burning?"

"Don't try changing the subject. We're literally surrounded by burning torches. Although..." He sniffed the air. "Yeah, I do smell something. I bet that chef's burning something again."

"Cooking at this time of night?"

"He must've gotten scared and is desperately trying to improve his skills before his head's the one being served up." The red-robed patrolman laughed.

"Must be." His yellow-robed partner chuckled too.

They continued their patrol, voices growing fainter as the distance between them and Winal increased. He continued onwards till he met his first real obstacle. A pair of cultivator guards flanked the exit.

There wasn't any roof left for Winal to climb on, only open air. There was also the fact that in the middle of the darkness, Winal would stick out like a sore thumb, what with literally being on fire.

He had to sneak past them. Stealth was a necessity for things to flow smoothly. It wasn't Winal's strong suit. So, he retreated back into the corridor, past a bend, and into a secluded corner.

Making sure that he was in the clear, Winal transformed.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Gone were the flames, and out came the black and white jelly. Alwin was back, and he meant business. Unfortunately, so did gravity. Still on the ceiling, Alwin was forced down. He landed on the floor with a splat.

Oh no! What if somebody heard that?

After picking himself back up into that blobby shape of his, he did a quick look around. He did it in a very Alwin fashion. Spinning around on his behind, Alwin had a 360-degree view of his surroundings. Just disregard the fact that it was mostly a blur as colors smeared into each other with every revolution. Yup, the coast was clear. Probably.

Alwin began to roll his way back towards the guards that blocked the exit. Fortunately, their backs were facing him. They were guarding from intruders, not extruders like him. Still, even though he was much more conspicuous than the flaming Winal, the guards would definitely notice him rolling past their view.

What he needed was a distraction.

While stealth wasn't Winal's strong suit, and neither was Alwin's, coming up with ingenious solutions to near-impossible problems was his specialty. In other words, he was about to cook up a one-of-a-kind distraction.

Alwin Silent Casted a pair of Spirit Hands. They waved hello to their master. Upon receiving the instructions, they gave a thumbs up before sneaking toward the cultivator guards. Rather than float toward their targets, they tip-toed on two fingers—or was it tip-fingered? Regardless of the choice of words, this way they were extra sneaky.

While the Spirit Hands made their way over to enact Alwin's amazing plan, he began to set up the second phase of his super-duper amazing idea. Spirit Feet were Silent Casted and instructions were relayed to them. Like the hands, they gave a toes up of acknowledgement. Also like the Spirit Hands, they sneaked their way into position. This time, claiming that they tiptoed over was an apt description. However, the feet weren't sneaking to the cultivators, they sneaked right behind Alwin.

Once the Spirit Hands were in position—right behind the cultivators—he gave them the signal. The hands grabbed each other and began to press themselves towards each other. In and out. In and out. In and out. Doing their best impression of a really weird pump. Instead of pushing out any liquid, they squeezed out air.

Wet squelchy fart sounds were produced at a rapid rate, each one louder and more obnoxious than the last..

The cultivators whipped their heads around, eyes wide and noses wrinkling. Before they could spot the Spirit Hands, Alwin dismissed them. With no one to blame for the sudden occurrence of flatulence, they turned on each other.

"That is disgusting. Have you no shame?" the red-robed guard pointed an accusatory finger at his companion.

"Me? First, you violate my nose. Now you dare to accuse me? Have you no shame?" the yellow-robed guard reciprocated with a pointed finger of his own.

The pair of guards began to argue. They jabbed fingers into each other's chests. Neither of them was letting up. True of the Crimson Gold Sect, things were heating up. The air around them was almost electric.

From fingers, they shifted to the blades at their side. Metal met metal as they forced the other to confess to their heinous crime of gassing the area and daring to gaslight the other.

This was the distraction Alwin needed. And it was something only a genius like him could come up with.

The Spirit Feet were given the signal. With a wind-up, they struck Alwin in the back like he was a soccer ball. His slimy body jiggled as the wind pelted his entire being. The center of the archway was occupied by the clashing cultivators. He would've crashed into them as if they were a pair of bowling pins if it wasn't for the spin the Spirit Feet put on him.

Everything began to blur again as the world revolved around him. Crimson faded into gold, and gold faded into crimson. Alwin curved toward the left corner of the exit, sailing past the two cultivator guards. They didn't even notice the presence of the spinning black and white disco ball.

Without hitting anything else, Alwin shot off into the darkness. He eventually stopped spinning, the world no longer a blur. Then he stopped flying, tumbling to the grassy terrain below him. After being forced to perform a couple of somersaults, he finally rolled to a stop on the grassy ground.

Turning back revealed that the arguing guards hadn't noticed his escape. Turning forward revealed that he was exactly where he wanted to be.

A courtyard stretched before him, shaped like a lotus flower. It linked various parts of the sect together. In the middle of that flower-shaped yard was a tree that acted as a symbol for the Crimson Gold Sect.

Its leaves were wreathed in fire. Yet, they never spread to the branches or down the trunk. When the flames began to dissipate, a crackling bolt of lightning would lash down from the sky, rekindling the foliage once more.

As fascinating as that sight was, Alwin wasn't here for sightseeing. The tree bathed the yard in light, and he had to take advantage of the night and blend into the darkness. Okay, maybe he could take advantage of the flames and blend into the light.

Since he was a Yin-Yang Slime, what if he stood right in the middle of where the light ended and darkness began? It would be a perfect way to camouflage himself.

Unfortunately, Niwla scolded him and said no.

With a sad pout, Alwin resumed his escape. He rolled through the ground, flattening the grass behind him with every revolution. The path to the exit was just past another pair of guards, blocking off the next corridor. Unlike the previous guards, this time they were facing Alwin.

In an instant, he came up with another super-duper mega-awesome solution. The Spirit Hands were Silent Casted and assigned their mission. They pressed themselves flat against the ground, pulling themselves forward with their fingers, until they found what Alwin was looking for.

A pebble.

In the cover of darkness, the Spirit Hands tossed the pebble. It landed close enough to be heard, but not close enough that they knew someone just threw something at them.

The guard closest to it drew his sword and walked to where the pebble landed, leaving the other guard alone to guard the passageway.

Hands came in pairs for a reason.

Another pebble was tossed, this time in the direction of the remaining guard. Upon landing, he drew his blade and inched his way closer to the source of the disturbance.

Wait. Was his plan actually working? There was no way in hell that such a flimsy idea would actually work. But, when life gives you lemons, you throw them back at life and tell them you wanted oranges instead. What did that phrase mean? Even Alwin didn't know. He just wanted to say something to make him sound cool and philosophical.

Rather than dwelling on the meaning behind his made-up phrase, he chose to take advantage of the miracle plan in front of him. Okay, it was more like Niwla nagging at him to get a move on instead of wasting time.

Alwin rolled himself forward like a super secret spy, humming some super secret spy music to reflect the impossible mission he had just accomplished. Once he passed the threshold, it was back to another crimson and gold colored corridor. Once he navigated through the winding set of hallways, he would be home free.

Or so Alwin thought.

"Look what we have here?" a voice came from behind him.

Alwin turned around to find the red-robed guard whom he thought he had just duped. Next to him was the yellow-robed guard he thought he had duped as well.

"Did you really think we'd fall for that?" He laughed.

"Yes?" Alwin replied, his voice rising in pitch.

"A dumb beast is still a beast," the red-robed guard said.

"Split the rewards?" the yelled-robed guard asked.

"Obviously."

Turns out life rejected his request for oranges and gave him pineapples instead. And life made sure to make the fruit extra prickly.

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