"Look at you, hot-and-cold hero," Mikhailis chuckled, shamelessly proud. He imagined a stadium crowd cheering each time the Crymber stomped and steam exploded. Stats overlay listed core temperature swings: +420 °C to −180 °C in three seconds. Ridiculous.
Another notification: SLIMEWEAVE-ALPHA LIVE. He quadruple-split the screen. Now a dim corridor stitched with dart traps filled quadrant three. The camera perched atop Slimeweave's translucent dome, giving a top-down view as the variant flowed like syrup over pressure plates. Every needle hissed just too late, punching harmlessly into glossy emerald skin. Where runic trip-lines criss-crossed, Slimeweave extruded pseudopod fingers, plucking each glowing filament from anchor points, rolling them up, swallowing them whole. Trap dismantled, nutrition gained.
