Copyright

That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime, Vol. 6

FUSE

Translation by Kevin Gifford

Cover art by Mitz Vah

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and

incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are
used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales,
or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

TENSEI SHITARA SLIME DATTA KEN volume 6

© Fuse / Mitz Vah
All rights reserved.
First published in Japan in 2015 by MICROMAGAZINE
PUBLISHING Co.
English translation rights arranged with MICROMAGAZINE
PUBLISHING Co. through Tuttle-Mori Agency, Inc., Tokyo.

English translation © 2019 by Yen Press, LLC

Yen Press, LLC supports the right to free expression and the
value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage
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rights.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Fuse, author. | Mitz Vah, illustrator. | Gifford, Kevin,
translator.
Title: That time I got reincarnated as a slime / Fuse ;
illustration by Mitz Vah ; translation by Kevin Gifford.
Other titles: Tensei Shitara Slime datta ken. English
Description: First Yen On edition. | New York : Yen ON, 2017–
Identifiers: LCCN 2017043646 | ISBN 9780316414203 (v. 1 :
pbk.) | ISBN 9781975301118 (v. 2 : pbk.) | ISBN
9781975301132 (v. 3 : pbk.) | ISBN 9781975301149 (v. 4
: pbk.) | ISBN 9781975301163 (v. 5 : pbk.) | ISBN
9781975301187 (v. 6 : pbk.)
Subjects: GSAFD: Fantasy fiction.
Classification: LCC PL870.S4 T4613 2017 | DDC 895.63/6—
dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017043646
ISBNs: 978-1-9753-0118-7 (paperback)
978-1-9753-0119-4 (ebook)

E3-20190803-JV-NF-ORI
CONTENTS | THE OCTAGRAM RISING

Cover
Insert
Title Page
Copyright

Prologue: The Magic-Born’s Ruse

Chapter 1: Between Monster and Man
Chapter 2: Word from Ramiris
Chapter 3: The Eve of Battle
Interlude: The Demon Lords
Chapter 4: In the Land of Destiny
Chapter 5: Walpurgis
Chapter 6: The Octagram
Epilogue: In the Holy Land

Afterword
Yen Newsletter
 PROLOGUE

THE MAGIC-BORN’S RUSE

“Hoo dear, nearly bit it for good back there…”

Laplace was muttering to himself as he appeared before
his master. He clearly had the injuries to back that
assessment up.
“Tough, huh?” casually replied his lord, a boy with black
hair and a powerful presence.
“Well, hang on there, lad,” Laplace whined. “Tough
hardly even begins to describe what I had to wade through
back there, yeah? Getting inside was painful enough, but
getting out—oh, dear, who can say how many times I toed
the line?”
“Oh, I think someone like you would work it out. Even if
someone killed you, I’m not sure you’d even know how to
die.”
“Oof. You’re a mean one, you know that?”
“So,” the boy aloofly continued as Laplace cried the best
fake tears he could, “did you find out what lies behind the
Western Holy Church?”
“…Um. I know this ain’t the kind of report I should be
giving, but… Well, no. Nobody can. It’s bloody impossible, is
what it is.”
This stone-faced admission didn’t faze the boy at all. He
gave a soft smile, as if he expected that reply the whole
time.
“Hmm. Ever the liar, aren’t you? You had to have
uncovered a hint or two, at least?”
Laplace shrugged and sighed. “Sheesh. After all I went
through for my info, I figured I could name my price with
ya. But you just see right through me, don’tcha? There’s no
beating ya.”
“Hee-hee-hee. Thanks for the compliment, but my prices
remain firm, all right?”
“There’s no beating ya,” Laplace repeated.
“Oh, no need for complaints. I’ll pay your full asking
price. And in fact, our demon lord friend’s consciousness
has taken root for a while now. He’s done a wonderful job
transferring over to his homunculus.”
The boy gave Laplace an amused smile as he rang a small
bell to call for the woman stationed outside the door.
“Yes, sir?”
Into the room strode a beautiful woman—graceful, polite,
the epitome of the classic executive secretary. Her skin was
smooth, light in color, and her well-defined facial features
suited the bun her blond hair was tied back in. She had
blue eyes that shined like a pair of mystical lapis lazuli—but
no matter how mesmerizing the light from them was, they
still couldn’t hide a vague sense of evil lurking inside.
“Huh? Ah, you don’t mean…?”
The sight of the woman startled Laplace, but he could
spot a familiar glint in her eyes. Then he erupted into
laughter, realizing who she truly was.
“Well, what’s with that getup, huh? Didja make a gender
swap while I didn’t notice? It looks good on you, I ain’t
gonna lie, but it couldn’t be much more different from
before, eh?”
“Enough from you,” countered the woman, ignoring
Laplace’s bait. “It took me ten years to obtain a body I could
freely move around in. I am not going to complain about
minor grievances.”
“Polite” was no longer the way to describe her. She stood
boldly, sporting an undefeatable grin. She gave Laplace a
friendly pat on the shoulder before sitting down.
“So if you’re introducing me to this man, I suppose
there’s not much need to keep the act going?”
“No,” replied the boy, “but I’d like you to maintain the
facade in public, please. If it’s just between us, I suppose
there’s no great need, no.”
“Oh? Well, if that’s what you want, boss, I’ll do it. Is it all
right if I ask why?”
“Because you’re weak, Kazalim. Your powers still aren’t
complete yet, are they? Just watch over Clayman until your
full Curse Lord force is back with you.”
Kazalim, the woman posing as his secretary, gave this
reply a sullen nod. She had the name of a very old demon
lord—the one who attempted to punish a human named
Leon for declaring himself a demon lord of some faraway
backwater area and paid for it with his life. Once, he was
head of the Moderate Jesters; now, she was a lord both
Clayman and Laplace were attempting to resurrect.
Her overpowering strength was long gone. All that
remained was a prim, graceful young woman. Just before
she could be obliterated from existence, Kazalim
experienced a rather unlikely series of coincidences that
caused her to possess the body of this boy—and just the
other day, they had finally managed to transfer her astral
body into a replacement homunculus. The boy was her
“boss” for now, the power from her glory days long gone.
That was the way their pact worked, and Kazalim had no
quarrel with it. Over the past ten years of dealing with this
acquaintance, she had fully accepted her place in the power
hierarchy.
“Fair enough. My power is incomplete. I let that demon
lord Leon defeat me, and I lost my body in the most
unsightly of fashions. I know my soul’s settled in this
homunculus, but it’s so fragile, I’d tear it apart if I
unleashed my full force. I can’t really call this a complete
resurrection…”
 “Ah, is that the issue with ya? Well, if our president is
callin’ this guy boss, then I guess you’re my boss, too. Sure
ain’t just another client by this point, no! So hopefully you
don’t mind if I clear the air with you guys a bit.”
“You never change,” the boy said. “After all this time, and
after you helped us revive our fallen president, you still
don’t trust me?”
“Ha-ha-ha! Nah, nah, that’s a different story. But I gotta
laugh at how you look now, sir. You’re this crazy beautiful
woman now!”
“…Am I? What do my looks matter?”
“Nah, I mean, the dichotomy between your speech and
your looks… It’s funny, that’s all.”
“I know that, you… Or ‘I am aware of that,’ perhaps? If I
am going to keep up the charade, I had best sound more
like the lady I am.”
“Uh, that’s what you’re concerned about? Because, I
mean… Ba-ha-ha-ha!”
“Silence,” Kazalim spat at the guffawing Laplace. “I’ll
have you know this body wasn’t my choice. The boss here
provided a homunculus modified with special technology
from the Sorcerous Dynasty of Thalion.”
“Yeah, I sure did. And that didn’t come cheap, either. We
needed a vessel without any soul at all, or else they’d get all
mixed up, and the transplant probably wouldn’t have
worked.” The boy sneered. “For that matter, if you had fled
into anyone besides me, Kazalim, you’d probably be too
tangled up to split off at all, I don’t think. All right? So I
really don’t want to hear any complaints about how you
look.”
“I appreciate it, boss,” said Kazalim.
The boy still didn’t seem pleased, not until Laplace
offered his own thanks.
“Sure. So can we move this along? I know it’s great we’re
all back together again, but I want to get down to business.
Tell me what you’ve found, Laplace.”
 The smile disappeared from Kazalim’s face as she turned
her eyes toward Laplace. He nodded, taking a more serious
demeanor.
“Yeah, you kept yer promise and made my dream come
true. I better show you a little sincerity, too, eh? So I
infiltrated the Western Holy Church to find out what’s
behind it, but I tell you, I just don’t have any idea.”
He then began to describe his findings.
Laplace’s mission was to find out what made the Holy
Church tick. It remained an independent religion,
headquartered in the Holy Empire of Lubelius, but much of
its internal workings remained a mystery. It positioned itself
as an advocate for justice and for the weak, enjoying
tremendous influence on the Western Nations—a very
inconvenient truth for the boy. That was why he employed
Laplace from the fixer team of the Moderate Jesters to find
who they really were—and exploit any potential weaknesses
for later.
The boy was fairly convinced there was another side to
them. If the Western Holy Church was really an advocate
for truth, he’d have to undertake whatever scheme it took
to rip them away from that pedestal, but that was strictly a
last resort. Now simply wasn’t the time for it. The Church,
after all, enjoyed the services of Hinata Sakaguchi, head of
the Western Nation’s crusaders and the most powerful
paladin the world knew.
“So,” Laplace continued, “thanks to Hinata’s absence, I
managed to make it into the Church all right, but there was
nothin’ suspicious about anything I saw inside. So I headed
over to Lubelius’s holy lands—to be exact, the Inner
Cloister, at the peak of their holiest mountain.”
He began to gesture excitedly as he spoke. It was there,
after all, where he saw the fearsome truth.
“And the most amazing thing, you know… The entire land
was just filled with this kind of sacred presence!”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” the boy asked. “It’s a holy land.”
 “What’re you, stupid?” Kazalim added. “Did someone
erase your brain since last we met?”
“No, no, listen to me! And you’re falling back in to non-
lady mode again, President.”
“I don’t need your— I mean, don’t worry about little old
me! Just keep going.”
So Laplace kept going, a little resentful at this treatment.
………
……
…
A little ways from Western Holy Church headquarters
was the religion’s Holy Temple. This was where the Papacy
was located, the political arm of the Church that worked at
the behest of the Holy Emperor, spokesperson for the
heavens.
It wasn’t until he entered this Temple that Laplace began
to feel something was off. Within its chambers, he could
detect a faint amount of magic that applied itself to his
nervous system. It was a very ingenious spell, one he
noticed only because it was automatically blocked by
Falsifier, his unique skill.
There’s a surprise, ain’t it? Must mean somebody here
can wield spiritual magic as strong as mine…
Laplace braced himself as he walked toward the
cathedral.

He already had some knowledge of the enemy’s

organizational structure—and from what he could see, the
relationship between the Church and Lubelius was very
tangled indeed.
The Church was built to worship Luminus, the one and
only god in the world (as they defined it). Lubelius was the
same way, which meant one could say they were allies when
it came to religious issues. In terms of the balance of power,
however, the Church held nearly all the cards.
 The reason? Simple: Hinata. The Church had its knights
deployed at points across the Western Nations, providing
an effective bulwark to protect the weak—and it was Hinata
Sakaguchi who built them, and by extension the Church,
into the powerful group it was today. Technically speaking,
the Church worked under the patronage of Lubelius,
charged exclusively with spreading the good word about
Luminism. Now that their mission had extended out into
“doing good” for the weak at large, the relationship was no
longer as simple as that.
More than anything, though, the real problem lay with
the knights Hinata herself had trained. Even Laplace
couldn’t help but fear them a little, for their allegiance was
not at all with Lubelius but solely with the one god, Luminus
—and with Hinata, who devoted herself fully to Luminism.
That was what enabled the Western Holy Church to exist
independently from Lubelius.
And this brought up another problem—Lubelius’s war
power resided in more than just its crusaders. Even the
Holy Emperor kept an official Lubelian force, the Imperial
Guard that answered to nothing but the Papacy below it,
and this was another group to be reckoned with. Founded
on the ideal that everyone is equal under the name of
Luminus, it was a motley collection of soldiers in assorted
clothing and equipment. The qualifications for joining were
straightforward—be a devoted follower of Luminism and be
at least an A-ranked fighter. Thanks to these clear but
fiendishly difficult requirements, the Imperial Guard was
small and exclusive, packed with the best of the best in
warriors and magicians, along with their servants. This
force was underestimated at one’s own peril.
Hinata was listed as head knight in this Guard as well,
and the Papacy listed Cardinal Nicolaus Speltus, a
dedicated admirer of Hinata, as its chief counsel. Hinata
could almost claim the whole of the Church for herself, and
this was the main reason why. She had control over both
wings of the Holy Emperor’s main force and yet was exempt
from having to swear her allegiance to that leader. It was
thanks to this inscrutable woman, Hinata, that relations
between the Holy Church and Holy Empire were as twisted
as they had become.
And simply recalling all this advance knowledge he had
procured made Laplace sigh in frustration.
What a crazy lady…

The cathedral was full of spiritual force, more than

enough to call forth the greatest of holy spirits. To a magic-
born like Laplace, this spiritual presence was supremely
difficult to deal with. It dulled his senses, making him want
to flee the site as quickly as possible.
He took a moment to gather himself before deciding
which way to go. Heading toward the peak of this holy
mount would reportedly lead him to the Inner Cloister,
where one could communicate with Luminus. His senses
were telling him there was something to be found here in
the cathedral as well.
“So, ah, now what…?”
He wavered, but for only a moment. Then he strode out
of the cathedral and straight for the Cloister. Spend too
much time in this building, and Hinata could come back at
any moment. Now, while she was gone, was his best chance
to find a hint as to what Luminus, the central doctrine of the
Western Holy Church, really was.
I’ll just hop on up, he thought as he traversed the
mountain path, and take a quick li’l peek around.
It was his choice—and it was a mistake. No, it wasn’t
fruitless; he certainly learned much from the experience.
But to Laplace, the danger that resulted proved far beyond
his comfort level.

Proceeding up the stone steps, Laplace finally reached

the shrine at the peak of the mountain. This was notably
smaller than the cathedral down below, but in terms of
grandeur, the two were incomparable. This small structure
was, in the true meaning of the term, the god’s domain.
Now, it was divine in its silence, putting pressure upon
Laplace’s mind. But even amid that solemnity, he could
detect the familiar feel of magic.
…The heck? Magic, in this supposedly holiest of places?
That’s weird. Don’t like that too much, no…
He could tell that Hinata, the most formidable obstacle in
his way, was not here. If the magic belonged to someone
else, that someone couldn’t be ignored, but—in Laplace’s
mind—it was no threat to him, either.
But was that the right appraisal to make? Now Laplace,
deep down in his heart, wasn’t so sure. Come on, man. You
know you’re completely hiding your presence here.
Everything’s perfect. If some ruffian shows up, just run.
Bracing himself, Laplace reactivated his Stealth Mode
and attempted to slip into the shrine. Then he rolled right
back out, barely maintaining his balance, stymied by the
vision of a beam of light piercing straight through his body.
“You insect, you mere cockroach, dirtying the throne of
your god!!”
All of a sudden, the shrine was filled with an
overwhelming presence, dressed in luxuriant garb that
covered a chiseled, muscular figure. His short, curly blond
hair shined brightly, exhibiting the full force of his will. This
was a ruler—an absolute ruler—and what Laplace couldn’t
help but notice first about him were the two large fangs
jutting out from his lips.
“A-a vampire…?!”
“Silence, insect. I will judge you myself. Consider it an
honor to die here!”
The next moment, beams of crimson light danced across
the peak. His path of escape cut off, Laplace stood there
helplessly as his body was torn to shreds.
 ………
……
…
Laplace took a moment to quiver as he retold the story.
“I tell you, it was downright scary. I thought that was it
for me!”
“Um, yeah,” the boy replied, “but why wasn’t it?”
Kazalim merely smiled. “Like I told you. He doesn’t know
how to die.”
“Oh, stop phrasing it that way. Anyone should have an
escape plan and a decent amount of security backup during
an op like that, y’know? But I’m telling you, I’ve just been
dragged across the coals lately. Wish I could have
something to brag about for a change!”
“Yeah, yeah. You know you’re a covert operative. If
you’re fixin’ to be the hero in shining armor, maybe look for
another line of work?”
“He’s right,” the boy agreed. “Laplace, the key to your
job is completing your missions. How…gallant you look
doing it hardly matters, does it?”
“No, true enough. It’s just, if I keep this up, I’m gonna
start getting used to being a loser…”
“What’s the problem with that?”
“He said it. As long as you survive and win in the end, we
have nothing to complain about.” Kazalim hardened her
expression. “So what happened?”
Laplace nodded at her. “Right. There’s the rub. If this
guy can overwhelm me that much, there’s no mistakin’ that
he’s one strong dude. The question is, who is he? What’s a
magic-born of that caliber doin’ in this supposedly high holy
place? That’s the key to all this, and it could be enough to
shake the very foundation of the Western Holy Church,
huh?”
“A magic-born, huh…? And a high-level one, a vampire,
conspiring with the Church…”
 The boy nodded his agreement, unable to hide his
surprise at this unexpected development.
“Whoever he is,” commented Kazalim, “he is dangerous.
A man capable of defeating Laplace, to the best of my
knowledge, would have to be far more than merely magic-
born.”
“Yeah. I’m with ya there.”
“What do you mean?” the boy asked.
“Well, not to brag, but I’m not exactly a wimp, y’know?
Even with the dryad I faced down before, if I seriously
duked it out, I woulda won, y’know? I just fled ’cause I was
on their home turf in the forest, and I didn’t want ’em callin’
for reinforcements on me. No real point going all out to try
to kill ’er, either. But this foe was on another level, I tell you.
It didn’t feel like some sub-demon lord to me—it felt like a
full one, through ’n’ through. Someone like me, all I could
do was run.”
Dryads were extremely powerful foes in forest lands,
intrinsically capable of instant teleportation through the
trees. The Plant Whisper skill let them “share” any and all
information with others of their species, sending friends
over to help their brethren anytime it was needed. This
made them enough of a threat that Laplace opted to run
away the last time he saw one, even though he could likely
conquer one in a duel.
This guy, however, was different. “That was a monster,”
Laplace declared. “Stronger than me, no doubt about it.”
The atmosphere in the room grew heavy.
“A demon lord, huh…? What do you think, Kazalim?”
Kazalim snorted. “I told you. He is dangerous. As far as I
am aware, only one man could match that description.”
“Oh? Who’s that?”
“…The demon lord Valentine. One of the old guard, a
man on par with myself during my glory years.”
“For real? ’Cause if he’s a match for you, I see I was
totally right to flee. Lucky thing I trusted my instincts.”
 Laplace shrugged. He had taken pains to break in when
Hinata was away, only to stumble right up to a demon lord.
The irony of it made him wince.
“…Hmm. A demon lord within the Church, huh? D’you
think this Valentine’s actually the Holy Emperor, then?”
“Ooh, I dunno about that! You think a demon lord would
raise a finger to protect humanity? President, what kind of
guy was Valentine when you knew ’im?”
Kazalim closed her eyes and searched through her
memories, tapping a graceful finger against her forehead
as she recalled the vivid images of the past.
“This body may not show it,” she said, “but I’ve lived
through three of the Great Wars that occur every five
hundred years. Three of them. You can call me one of the
old guard as well, but by the time I joined that club, there
were already six demon lords ahead of me…”
As she put it, the demon lord Valentine had attained the
title before Kazalim herself. His force was massive, more
than worthy of the term vampire and the connotations of
immortality weaved into it. To Kazalim, who had evolved
from an elf (similarly known for longevity) to a walking
dead, the thought of a vampire, the symbol of eternal life,
also serving as a demon lord gave her pause.
“…To tell you the truth, Valentine and I have dueled to
the death a few different times. It never reached a
definitive conclusion, though. Once you reach our level, you
can lay waste to an entire landscape without hurting
yourselves at all. So instead, we adopted the tradition of
talking over things and deciding by majority vote…and that
led to the Walpurgis system. The fact that it takes three
votes to convene one is a throwback to when there were
still only seven demon lords in existence. Guess nobody
cared enough to change it.”
She let out an elegant, ladylike chuckle. The juxtaposition
between this and her other, masculine mannerisms was
starting to unnerve the other two people in the room, not
that she noticed. Then her face turned stony once more.
“And that’s why I feel safe in telling you this. That man,
Valentine; he sees humans and demi-humans as nothing
more than chattel. Even if the entire world was turned on
its end, the idea of him serving as guardian is simply
impossible.”
Laplace nodded his agreement as the boy thought over
Kazalim’s assessment.
“All right. So maybe they forced some kind of
agreement?”
“Are you listening to me, Laplace? Promises and
agreements only work between two parties with equal force
behind them.”
“Yeah…”
He didn’t seem too married to the idea himself.
“Plus,” the boy said, “I find it hard to believe that
someone as closed-minded as Hinata would team up with a
demon lord. I wonder if what Laplace ran into wasn’t a
demon lord at all, but some magic-born whose name we are
not aware of yet?”
“No,” Kazalim replied, “I do think that was Valentine.
Those dancing beams of crimson light? That’s the giveaway.
Valentine also goes by the name of Bloody Lord, and he can
take blood and vaporize it into beams of magicules known
as Bloodrays.”
As she put it, a Bloodray was a type of spread-fire
particle cannon. By converting his own blood into magical
particles, he was capable of firing it off in concentrated rays
of force. The amount of magical power that process
required meant it had to be a demon lord working it.
“So you’re saying that Laplace ran into the demon lord
Valentine, and that Valentine would never willingly
cooperate with human kingdoms. Wouldn’t that lend more
credence to the theory that the Holy Emperor is Valentine?”
“Yeah,” muttered Laplace, “that would explain matters.
I’d sincerely wonder how he managed to pull the wool over
Hinata’s eyes, though.”
“Well,” Kazalim stated, “I suppose it remains the most
convincing explanation we have. I do have my doubts and
concerns about that… But the important thing is, we now
know for a fact that Valentine, a demon lord, was lurking
inside a domain that only the Holy Emperor has access to.”
“And you’re sure it’s him?” the boy pressed.
“I’m fully convinced. Laplace’s description matches my
own memory, and from what I know about him, Valentine
would never willfully serve under someone else…”
“Yeah, there ain’t that many magic-born who could whip
me, I don’t think. But if I’m dealin’ with the likes of this,
well, I dunno how much more reconnaissance I’m capable
of here.”
“Well,” the boy said, apparently convinced, “this is still
pretty useful intelligence. Expertly done, Laplace.”
His face shined now, revealing traces of the joy he felt
now that he had a tool powerful enough to potentially take
down the Holy Church. There was a powerful demon lord
among his enemy’s forces, but that didn’t seem to concern
him at all. He was too busy thinking about what to do next
with this intel to care. For him, formulating his next plan of
action came as easily as figuring out the next epic prank to
pull off on the kids next door.

“So that’s all the info I have for ya. But speakin’ of demon
lords, what’s Clayman up to these days?”
The boy scowled at Laplace’s apparently unwelcome
question, pulling his dark, shiny hair back with one hand.
“Well,” he complained, “that wound up being a total
failure.”
“Failure?”
“Yeah. Everything went fine up until we had Rimuru, that
slime you mentioned, fight against Hinata. Then it all fell
apart, pretty much…”
The boy briefed the others on how things unfolded. First,
Clayman won over the demon lord Milim, thanks to the Orb
of Domination the boy provided him. Once he did, they
needed to test her out, to see just how deep the orb had put
Milim in their thrall.
“So we tried to find a decent opponent to test her
strength on. But instead of demon lords that we didn’t have
much intel or even a location on, we picked Carillon, since
he seemed to be the least intelligent out of them all.”
“Along the way,” Kazalim continued, “we thought we
could have her destroy the capital of the Beast Kingdom of
Eurazania. The city would’ve been packed with former
enslaved humans, souls to harvest so I can become a true
demon lord once more…”
He and the boy exchanged glances and sighed.
“We figured those souls would energize Clayman, too.
Two birds with one stone.”
“But then Milim went out of control and declared war on
the guy…”
And thanks to that, Carillon and the other targets had a
weeklong head start to prepare for the battle—more than
enough time to evacuate the capital.
“You know,” the boy reflected, “looking back at it, I guess
it’s pretty hard to enthrall a demon lord with a magical item
like that. You have to apply all these conditions to it, or else
it’ll get all messed up.”
“I hope you would trust me more than that. They don’t
call me the Curse Lord for show, I’ll have you know. That
Orb of Domination was a perfectly crafted Artifact, one of
my best pieces of work. It was Clayman who ruined
everything.”
“Ah, no point dredging that up any longer. Anyway, we
couldn’t collect any souls in the Beast Kingdom, so we
decided to check things out in Farmus next.”
 “Farmus? That kingdom?”
“Right. Thanks to that summoning ritual they invented,
Farmus had a ton of otherworlders living there. I figured
now was as good a time as any to pare down their forces a
little. So I used a few back channels to give them
intelligence on Tempest and whet the appetites of their
greedy king and his advisers.”
“You wouldn’t believe how quickly they bit, either.”
That idea grew from Laplace’s previous report, back
when their operation to make an orc lord into a malleable
demon lord ran into setbacks. The idea was to whip Farmus
up into enough of a frenzy to make them declare war on the
Jura-Tempest Federation. With all the high-level magic-born
in their ranks, Tempest surely had what it took to take out
at least a few of Farmus’s otherworlders before going down
for the count.
What’s more, Rimuru, lord of the monsters, was traveling
abroad on his own business, and Clayman’s own minions
had infiltrated Tempest lands. The boy had planned to use
Rimuru as bait for Hinata; as far as he was concerned, this
plan offered the best of both worlds.
“But then, well, nothing went according to plan. I mean,
that slime Rimuru actually fled Hinata with his life intact.
You can’t let your guard down around him for a moment.
Kind of like you, Laplace.”
“Thanks for the compliment.”
“And as if that wasn’t bad enough…”
“By my prediction,” Kazalim continued, “that still
wouldn’t be have been enough to keep Farmus from
winning the war. If the monsters’ lord joined the battle, that
would be another matter, but honestly speaking, it didn’t
matter who won. We’d just work with the victors. The
purpose of the war was to generate dead people—more
souls to harvest. Then we could finally awaken our beloved
Clayman to his true self. And then…”
And then it all fell apart. The entire Farmus force was
wiped off the face of the earth by a single slime.
“It’s hard to believe, but it’s the truth,” the boy
grumbled.
“In all the many times I’ve used my unique skill Schemer
to formulate a plan,” the clearly angry Kazalim added, “I’ve
never seen it go quite this far awry.”
“H-hang on a second! Just one slime? You pullin’ my leg?
Did Farmus get caught that off guard, man?”
“I told you, you wouldn’t believe how quickly they bit.
With a snap of the fingers, they had a force of twenty
thousand knights and magicians on the ground. And just
like that, they were all gone. We couldn’t confirm any
survivors at all.”
“Whaa?! That’s ridiculous…”
The unlikeliness of it all had even Laplace at a loss for
words.
“Oh, it hasn’t even begun to be ridiculous. Clayman
surveyed the battlefield after it was over, and according to
his report, there were absolutely no corpses left to be
found. That could only mean a monster was summoned, or
created, using the bodies as an offering.”
“If I cast Creation: Golem with that number of corpses,”
Kazalim said, “I couldn’t even begin to guess what kind of
monster would result. And not just corpses—the corpses of
strong, well-trained fighters, in a battlefield laden with
anguish and despair. The perfect casting environment! I
would expect a sub-demon lord to result from it, at the very
least.”
“Sounds like it. Although it’s the fact we couldn’t retrieve
those souls that’s the worst of all. Clayman said there
wasn’t a single one left floating around. So once again,
we’ve failed to awaken him to the next level.”
The boy sighed in regret. He began to wonder whether
conducting all these plans in parallel was coming back to
bite him. He had focused on efficiency, only to put too many
things into action at once—and once one tactic came
undone, it affected everything else. Maybe, he thought, I
was too greedy myself.
“So you’re sayin’ that this slime Rimuru sucked up all
those souls for ’imself?”
“Is that some kind of joke, Laplace? No magic-born could
do that! Not unless he is the seed of a demon lord.”
Kazalim was right. Even the most seasoned of wizards
would have a hard time gathering twenty thousand souls
and keeping them all under their control. Recklessly
attempting that would cause the souls’ latent energies to
unravel, quickly falling out of control. And even if it worked
—
“Ha-ha-ha! No, I know what you mean, Laplace,” the boy
said. “If he did snatch up twenty thousand souls, then he’ll
have turned into one hell of a monster by now, eh? Was that
what you were thinking?”
“Pretty much, yeah. Just a passing thought, really. Better
not overthink it.”
Laplace’s mere suggestion caused them both to laugh at
him. The concept was simply beyond comprehension.
Not even Kazalim knew the exact conditions required for
making a potential demon lord into a “true” demon lord,
although she could at least guess that it required a
tremendous number of souls. They were currently limited to
having Clayman experiment to see what results they got.
Clayman had tried to experiment on the orc lord, of course,
and everybody in the room knew how that turned out. And
given that knowledge, the idea of something like a slime
appearing out of nowhere and becoming a “true” demon
lord was beyond even Kazalim’s imagination.
Laplace, of course, was absolutely correct, even if none of
them knew it at the time. He began to wonder what kind of
odyssey Clayman had been on while he was running for
dear life from Valentine.
“So, ah, what’s Clayman up to right now?”
“Awaiting further orders,” said the boy. “At this point, we
can’t do anything bolder than what we’re doing now.
Luckily, Milim kept her end of the promise—she waited a
week, and then she turned the Beast Kingdom into a field of
ash. So we’re pulling back for now, to reconsider our
strategy.”
“Oh? So things haven’t been a total failure, then?”
“Underestimate me at your peril, Laplace. I may have
lost most of my force, but trickery remains my core asset.”
“It sure is. If everything went awry, even I would blow my
top a little about that! So maybe things have been delayed a
bit, but we did weaken the kingdom of Farmus
tremendously. That pretty much puts the Western Nations
in order, so it’ll be simple to seize them all.”
“And once that happens,” reflected Kazalim, “the Forest
of Jura should provide a fine breakwater against the
Eastern Empire.”
“Ah, I see, President. Negotiate with whichever side wins.
Ain’t no need to destroy the monster nation at all, huh?”
That, in a way, was the true worth of the demon lord
Kazalim’s Schemer ability. No matter how things turned
out, she had a knack for concocting plans where her side
wound up on top. Recalling that, Laplace was relieved to
see Kazalim was still herself after all.
“Plus,” the boy continued, “with Milim defeating Carillon,
we’ve proven that the Orb of Domination is an effective tool
against this caliber of enemy. That’s all the force we’ll need
to show. Beyond that, all we need to do is see how the other
demon lords fall into place.”
“Precisely. That’s why I ordered Clayman to refrain from
taking further action. The Eastern Empire’s going to do
something either way—and with that comes our opportunity
to recover some souls for ourselves.”
“Uh-huh. And as long as the eyes of the Western Holy
Church are on the monster nation, it’s more convenient for
us to keep that federation around anyway.”
Laplace could see the logic in this. No need for panic.
Just keep your eyes on the Church and avoid conflict with
any of the other forces.
“So for now, at least, we’re targetin’ the Church?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Not that it’ll be easy,” cautioned Kazalim. “We have to
consider the possibility of Hinata and Valentine working as
a team. Needlessly prodding them would be dangerous.”
As she and the boy saw it, as long as the Western Nations
were in their hands, the monster nation didn’t have to be
considered an obstacle. Plus, considering the mistakes they
made, they now thought it wiser to fully gauge the enemy
forces, avoiding a dual-pronged operation for the time
being. For now, they were gunning for the Western Holy
Church—and the Holy Empire of Lubelius behind it. Those
two would be struck first—carefully this time, making sure
none of their activities were noticed on the surface. In that
scenario, the monster nation was actually helpful to them.
As long as they kept fanning the flames of Church doctrine,
it’d be child’s play to keep the eyes of Hinata and her force
squarely upon Tempest.
“The Church can hardly afford to ignore the presence of
the magic-born Rimuru, either. With Farmus thoroughly
defeated, I doubt the other nations will be so willing to take
on the mantle of waging holy war. They’ll need to perform
some kind of action to reaffirm their authority.”
“Yeah.” The boy grinned. “If we can parry them and keep
both sides engaged, they might even destroy each other. All
we have to do is wait for an opportunity to weaken the both
of them.”
They were talking about a magic-born capable of single-
handedly sweeping a force of twenty thousand into the
afterlife. Without Hinata on the scene, taking him on was
patently impossible. So they would wait for the right
moment and come up with the perfect scheme for it—and
the way it sounded to Laplace, they already had a pretty
solid idea what they’d do. Neither sounded irresolute at all
about it.
“But the problem, Laplace, is that your report was a
little…unexpected,” said the boy.
“Very much so,” agreed Kazalim, also a tad indignant.
“Valentine being involved in this… Assuming he truly is
involved with anything at all. I find it hard to believe Hinata
would ever cooperate with him, judging by her personality.”
It was clear from the way they phrased it that
conquering the Western Holy Church would be far easier
without Valentine around. It made Laplace feel awkward,
despite it being no fault of his.
“Well,” he attempted, “we don’t know about that yet. But
if you’d just want to lure the demon lord out into public so
he wouldn’t get in the way of our investigations, we could
pull that off, couldn’t we?”
“Mm? What do you mean, Laplace?”
“I mean, why not just ask Clayman to convene
Walpurgis? Frey’s bound to join us on that, and her along
with Milim gives us the three signatories we need, yeah?”
Convening the Walpurgis Council would bring all the
demon lords together.
The boy smiled a bit. “…I see. That would drag Valentine
out of his holy domain, I think.”
“Well, well! Your eyes are sharper than I thought,
Laplace. If we can just find the right timing to keep Hinata
away from the mountain as well, your inquiry should
advance by leaps and bounds.”
“Huh? You want me going back there?!”
“Why wouldn’t we?”
“Yes, why wouldn’t we?”
Oh, brother, Laplace thought. But the boy and Kazalim
weren’t interested in his feedback. They had the outline of a
plan, and now it was time to work out the details.
 CHAPTER 1

BETWEEN MONSTER AND MAN

Clayman was never one to place too much trust in his

strength.
He was the demon lord who took over all of Kazalim’s
lands. Once Kazalim was defeated at the hands of the
demon lord Leon, all the people who served him came to
rely upon Clayman for guidance. The domains of the two
lords wound up being merged under Clayman’s rule,
something none of the other demon lords voiced any
complaint over. It all happened fairly quickly, thanks to the
ever-careful Kazalim’s preparations in case the worst came
to pass.
This resulted in a large war chest for Clayman to work
with, allowing him to build a first-class force despite being a
relatively new member of the club. Financially speaking, he
was number one in the group—or to put it another way,
Clayman was the demon lord who best knew how to
manage his money. He engaged in under-the-table trade
with the Eastern Empire and had a roaring business going
with the Dwarven Kingdom as well. Taking advantage of
both trade connections allowed him access to the newest
weapons and armor from both east and west.
He took advantage of his access to past relics and
magical armor to boost his war power. It proved to be
useful bait to make power-hungry magic-born do his
bidding. His riches attracted them right to him, ripe for
using and abusing. That was how Clayman preferred to do
business, and it didn’t mean he was stingy with his
earnings. He lavished his forces with gifts, carefully meting
them out so he could establish a vast network of
coconspirators in nations across the world—none of whom
even knew one another’s faces.
Everything was going the way he planned it. His ultimate
mission, to gain access to every piece of information and
place the entire world under his rule, was already halfway
complete.

The only thing Clayman lacked, he knew, was power. War,

in the end, was ultimately a game of numbers—that was his
reasoning and also the rationale for why he never
overestimated his capabilities. No matter how much power
he had built up, he knew all too well that he could still falter
in the end. That was how much of a shock the demon lord
Kazalim’s defeat was to him, although Clayman did feel he
was a little too unprepared for it.

So he established roots at the core of each geopolitical

force and gradually, carefully, expanded on them. And now,
Clayman had new strength to tap, truly decisive strength.
That was the demon lord Milim—capable of enough
overwhelming violence to stand head and shoulders above
the other nine. Carillon, whom Clayman appraised as
stronger than him, barely put up a fight. She destroyed his
nation completely by herself.
And now that he had the power he lacked within himself,
Clayman could feel his mood soaring to the skies. He had
always wanted to defeat Leon, and now he believed that
desire was within sight.
Before that, however…
Heh-heh-heh. How nice to see that boy came to the same
conclusion that I did. Have the hated Holy Church fight
against the magic-born Rimuru—that’s the best way to sap
the strength of both sides.
Have them crush each other. No need to go through any
pain themselves.
To make that happen, we need more information on the
Holy Church’s internal workings. Could they truly be
connected with the demon lord Valentine…? If we can
convene Walpurgis right when we send Laplace back in,
there’s little doubt that security will be lighter. A fine plan
of action!
He brought a glass of wine to his lips, savoring the taste
and basking in euphoria.
The wine was a hundred-year-old vintage, old enough
that one could almost taste the time and labor put into it, to
say nothing of the aroma. Only the most carefully picked
examples reached his cellar, carefully stored to ensure only
the highest of quality, waiting ever so patiently to be served
—all this, just for the sake of Clayman. To him, all of this was
a given. It was perfectly natural for him to believe that, for
a mighty king like him, only the best would be appropriate.
He let the aroma settle in his nose as he began to think.
“So what should be the pretext of this Walpurgis…?”
It was set for one week from now, at night. It would be a
new moon that night, the time of the month when the
power of vampires was at its weakest. Every measure had
to be taken to ensure Valentine couldn’t flex his full muscle.
The main question to figure out was the motivation—the
reason why all these demon lords were coming together. He
squinted, staring into thin air.
“…If we are going to attack,” he whispered lightly, “now
is the time. We could take this chance to seize Carillon’s
territory as well.”
“Sure, Clayman, but ya just got ordered to sit tight for a
spell, didn’tcha?”
Clayman smirked at the voice that apparently came from
nowhere. “You’re here, Laplace? Just as rude as always, I
see.”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice me. You were that lost in
thought?”
“Heh-heh-heh. Can you blame me? I have been granted
the opportunity twice to awaken to my full demon lord self,
and I lost it both times out of my failures.”
“Ah, no need to stew over it. The way the president sees
it, the Eastern Empire’s gonna go on the move soon enough
either way.”
“I’m sure they will. But you see, Laplace, I’ve come up
with a wonderful idea. The Beast Kingdom’s capital might
be gone, but there are still a plethora of weaker races
residing in its hinterlands. Perhaps I could swallow up
Carillon’s territory before the other demon lords can,
gather the survivors together, and kill them. That should be
enough to trigger my awakening. A smart plan of action,
don’t you think?”
“Whoa, whoa, kinda pushing it a bit too far, eh? I mean,
killing innocent people when we still don’t really know what
sets off the whole thing?”
Clayman winced. It was not the enthusiastic agreement
he was expecting.
“That’s rather out of character for you, Laplace. Do you
sympathize for them? The weak are there to be exploited.
What could make them happier than dying for my sake?”
“Maybe, but you already killed thousands of human
slaves, and that didn’t amount to nothin’, either. How’s this
gonna be any different? I tell ya, it’s not a good idea to push
it right now. You needa think a little more and take your
time with this!”
Laplace was right. Clayman had a history of purchasing
slaves, then murdering them. The number had indeed
grown to several thousand, but the effort had yet to make
Clayman a true demon lord. Having this pointed out to him
did little to change Clayman’s mind.
“Don’t be silly, Laplace. I was their owner, and I am free
to handle my purchases any way I like. If killing a thousand
isn’t enough, we’ll go with ten thousand next. We know that
human souls are required for the awakening. There is no
need to restrain ourselves with the weak!”
He paused, letting his arrogant theory sink in Laplace’s
mind.
“Besides, this plan of action is good for him, too. I’m
planning to launch this Walpurgis on the pretext that
there’s a new force in the Forest of Jura whose leader has
declared himself a demon lord.”
“Right, that’s fine and all, but that ain’t gonna be any
reason to invade the Beast Kingdom, is it?”
“Oh, but it will be, Laplace. One of my agents, Mjurran,
was killed by someone while on a covert mission. I plan to
declare that it was then when I realized the demon lord
Carillon had turned on me. No one should have any
complaint about me taking over Carillon’s territory to
gather the evidence I need to prove it. After all, I was the
one who suffered the loss.”
Laplace scrutinized Clayman’s words. Eurazania was
adjacent to the lands ruled by Milim—hardly a ruler who
cared much about things like “gathering evidence.” The
fact that Milim had defeated Carillon was really all Clayman
needed to back up his alibi. He could even say he sent Milim
over to investigate, for that matter. That way, Clayman’s
forces could go through Milim’s land to reach the Beast
Kingdom, and no one would have any reason to object. And
once things were at that point, fabricating some evidence
would be the easy part.
There was nothing unnatural about any of this plan. But
Laplace still didn’t think now was the time to act.
Aren’tcha panicking a little too much, Clayman? Not that
I’m gonna change your mind anytime soon, but…
“Yeah, what you’re saying all makes sense…”
Then Laplace recalled something that had nearly slipped
past him.
 “…but hang on, she’s been killed?”
He knew full well that Clayman thought extremely little
of Mjurran, but Laplace thought of her as a decent,
trustworthy magic-born. In Clayman’s bureaucracy, she was
one of the five fingers, the highest echelons of leadership.
She wasn’t too good in a fight, but as a wizard who could
handle almost any situation, she was highly valued as
rearguard support. Plus, she often had handy advice for
Laplace and the rest of the Moderate Jesters, even if she
acted like she hated it.
More than anything, though, Mjurran had common
sense. Laplace gave her top marks for that.
“Ah yes,” the unmoved Clayman replied. “I don’t know
what that disappointed tone in your voice is, but yes, she’s
dead.”
“Huh. She died, eh…? You’re sure about that?”
“Mm? The Marionette Heart I implanted in her broke.
Her real heart, which I kept here, crumbled into ash and
disappeared. So yes, I’m quite sure, thank you. Her role in
my outfit was over anyway, so you could say it was good
timing.”
The flatness of Clayman’s report saddened Laplace a
little. “C’mon, Clayman,” he chided, “would it really hurt ya
to be a little sadder when one of yer best people passes
away?”
He used to be a better man that that. Ever since he
reached the demon lord ranks, it’s like he’s grown more
and more twisted…
And this wasn’t a phenomenon limited to Clayman. Well
near everyone in the Moderate Jesters—the group that
Laplace called home—seemed to begin warping a bit
personality-wise, as he saw it. Laplace himself was the
same. He certainly had no business criticizing Clayman for
it, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling that Clayman had
fundamentally changed.
“Ha-ha-ha! Oh, you’re too kind, Laplace. Did you know
that Teare said the same thing earlier? ‘You need to treat
your tools right,’ she told me, ‘or else they’ll fall apart.’ I
believe she learned that from you, Laplace? But that is
exactly why, if a tool falls apart on you, you have to make
the perpetrator pay for it. I can atone for the tool as well,
then, can’t I?”
The sight of Clayman’s artificial smile made Laplace give
up pursuing the question any further. “…Yeah. I’d like to
keep her death from going to waste, at least.”
“Of course you do. I thought you would say that.”
Another smile.
Not quite how I meant it, Clayman…
It generated a wealth of mixed emotions in Laplace’s
mind. He shook it off, wondering if there were any cracks in
Clayman’s plan he had failed to notice.
“But y’know, Clayman, about that Walpurgis… Isn’t
anyone else gonna complain atcha about it?”
“Oh, they may.” The smile disappeared from Clayman’s
face. Now it was twisted in unwavering confidence and
warped desire. “But now that I have Milim at my beck and
call, I can just toss her in their direction, and that’s it.”
Laplace turned pale. “Now wait a minute! That’s
dangerous talk, there! He said there’s a chance Milim could
go berserk, too, didn’t he? Just because the president built
that Artifact doesn’t mean you can get away with relying on
it for everything.”
“It’s going to be all right, Laplace. Milim fully followed my
orders.”
“So I heard. But she also went off script and made that
crazy war declaration, didn’t she? She’s ancient by demon
lord standards; she’s got to have a hell of a lot of resistance
against outside influence. If you come to rely on that lady
too much, I think it’s your neck on the line, y’know?”
But Clayman had little interest in the impassioned
warning. “Are you envious, Laplace, that Milim is under my
full control?”
 “No! I’m saying that they call it a ‘trump card’ ’cause you
save it until the final deal!”
“Enough from you. You have nothing to worry about. He
wishes to see me awaken as a true demon lord. To do that, I
will overrun the Beast Kingdom. If anyone stands in my way,
I will show you just how easily I will mow them down.”
“Hang on a sec! He and the president just told you to sit
tight, didn’t they? What you needa be thinkin’ about right
now is how we’ll navigate this Walpurgis thing!”
“Trust in me, Laplace. If I merely sit here and do
whatever Lord Kazalim tells me to do, that will not fulfill his
goals for me. Now is the time to go on the attack!”
That was enough to fully shut down Laplace’s desperate
protests.

In the end, Laplace was unable to stop Clayman. They

were in agreement on some things, and it wasn’t that
Clayman was wildly diverging from his orders. But Laplace
just couldn’t shake the premonition that something was up
with the demon lord. So he spoke once more.
“Listen, Clayman. Lemme ask you one more thing: Did
you really decide on this plan of action on yer own free
will?”
“What are you talking about, Laplace? There are two
people in the world who can give me orders: Lord Kazalim
and the one who resurrected him. You should be more
aware of that than anyone.”
He was right. If Clayman saw nothing wrong with his
scheme, Laplace had no authority to intervene. He had his
own work to do, infiltrating the Western Holy Church a
second time.
“All right. No worries, then. I need to get goin’, but you
be careful, too, okay, Clayman? Now’s not the time to be too
reckless. Whatever ya do, don’t letcher guard down.”
With that final warning, Laplace took his leave, allowing
Clayman to refocus on his own thoughts.

Did he mean to accuse me of being under the influence

of another? Ridiculous. Or perhaps…is he worried that I
will reap all the spoils of victory for myself, because I have
Milim’s powers to use as I please? Hardly like him to be
jealous…
Clayman never overestimated his own strength. The self-
confidence that controlling Milim gave him, however, had
emboldened him. And now, it had made him take the words
of Laplace, his most trustworthy of confidants, and dismiss
them as mere jealousy against him.
It was with some disappointment in his friend that he
took another sip of his wine. Now, however, it was bitter.
The mellow sweetness from before was nowhere to be
found.
…Curse it all!
Suddenly, Clayman threw the glass in his hand against
the wall. His anger was making him act out, following
orders given from emotions not even he could understand.
The force of the outburst made the bottle of first-rate
wine on the table shatter. But Clayman didn’t care. Instead,
to calm his nerves, he took something out from his pocket—
a mask molded into a smiling face.
“Don’t you worry, Laplace. I’m going to make this
awakening work, and then I will have the world in my
grasp. All right, Laplace? I’m not going to lose this again!
So this time, at least, let’s all be one happy family
together…”
There, by himself in that room, Clayman reminded
himself of the hopes hidden in his heart—rubbing the mask
softly, as if running his hand over a precious treasure.
Right. First decision: defeat the demon lord Clayman. That’s
set in stone. If you got someone lurking around in the
darkness, trying to pull off some grand scheme, better to
rub him out ahead of anything else. Plus, now that I’ve
declared myself to be a demon lord, I need ways to keep the
other demon lords from taking action against me.
Sacrificing Clayman should be a fine way to do that. There’s
the other reason.
As long as we don’t know why Milim decided to pick a
fight with Carillon, we can’t really rely on what she says.
Time to throw my weight around a little and keep things
from getting any gloomier going forward. Besides, Clayman
just went too far. He needs to feel the retribution. To pay for
what he did.
Moving on, our future direction. Yohm was a popular guy
in Farmus, hailed as a hero by most. We’ll take advantage of
this to have the current king of Farmus released from
imprisonment and forced to come to the negotiating table. I
want the kingdom to be a thing of the past by the time
we’re done. Beyond that, we need to figure out how to deal
with the Western Holy Church, as well as send out
declarations to the nations we’ve signed pacts with so
they’ll know our take on matters.
We had a lot to talk about. Something told me it was
going to be kind of a long meeting.

I kicked things off by taking a report from Soei. Clayman

was on the move, apparently, and we needed to hear all the
details and confer over what to do. Thus, I was on my way to
our main meeting hall, expecting to meet with Tempest
leadership and the Three Lycanthropeers.
As I did, my Universal Detect sniffed out a group of fifty
or so approaching town. Huh? Oh, it’s Fuze, guild master
from the kingdom of Blumund. Before long, our security
team had us all face-to-face. He pushed through his own
soldiers to see me, his face grim.
“It has been much too long, Sir Rimuru. I am only glad
that I made it here in time! We have come to satisfy our
duty under the terms of the security agreement signed
between Blumund and Tempest, and I feared I was already
too late.”
He smiled as he spoke, but he still looked at me intensely,
and the soldiers surrounding him looked ready to face
death at any moment. Each was fully equipped, heavily
armored, and prepared for war.
“Whoa. The guild master himself? What on…?”
“Ha-ha! No need to put it like that. Thegis is ready to
take over my post, should it come to it. I’ve heard many
things about this town from our merchants, that sneak
Mjöllmile in particular. You’ve been engaged with the
Kingdom of Farmus, it seems…”
Huh? Ummm…?
Come to think of it, I suppose it had been about ten days
since we brought our visitors from Blumund back home. Did
they immediately suit up and come running to our aid the
moment they heard the news? Great if they did, but…
“…Even if we lack the time to erect a defensive wall,”
Fuze feverishly continued, “it would be best to build a circle
of personnel around the city to beef up our defenses. It
doesn’t look like Farmus’s main force has arrived yet, but
there is no telling when their vanguard troops may reach
us. We’ve passed the date of their war ultimatum, yes?”
The steely resolve in his eyes seemed clear to me as he
said his piece. Well, not just “seemed.” They were clear to
me. He had already willed his guild master’s seat to Thegis.
I guess he really was here to fight to the death for Tempest.
But um…you know… It’s all kinda over already. And with
the way Fuze and his soldiers were all decked out in their
finest equipment, ready to fan out the moment I said the
word, I wasn’t too sure how to give the news.
“Or perhaps you actually intend to seize the initiative and
attack first? I have to tell you, Sir Rimuru, that could be a
brash move. According to our intelligence, we have
confirmed sightings of an army nearly twenty thousand
strong. We lack the numbers to defeat them in a frontal
assault. Over the past few days, I have been working my
connections—I now have a team of three hundred
adventurers on standby. They may be few in number, but I
assure you they are at your beck and call. This may be a
protracted war; our best bet might be to use the forest
landscape to wage a guerrilla campaign…”
Fuze was wholeheartedly devoted to us. Almost to the
point where I wondered if he should be, really.
“Still,” he confidently concluded, “it gladdens my heart to
be able to fight alongside the beasts and creatures who call
this forest home.”
Now it was even harder to tell him. The Tempest leaders
around me were stone silent, and the contingent from
Eurazania was visibly confused. This stuff was already in
the past for us all. Like, I wasn’t expecting them to actually
lend us support! I know we had that treaty, but it had more
than enough loopholes in its interpretation to let them
weasel out of this stuff. But, however few, Fuze still got a
bunch of fighters together and zoomed right over here. I
was kinda happy to see that, but—
“…Ah, what a fine town this is. Beautiful buildings, well-
designed houses, paved roads… It pains me to admit it, but
it is far more splendid than anything one could find in
Blumund. I can understand your reluctance against turning
it into a battlefield. But we must hold out and await
reinforcements! Our king has promised to deploy our
knights, and while it will take them time to prepare—”
“Ahhh, Fuzie, one moment?”
I hated to do it, but I had to stop him, or else we were
gonna be here all day.
“Yes, Sir Rimuru? Did you have a suggestion for our
strategy?”
 “Um, yeah, our, our strategy… Like, if you wanna call it
that…”
“Is this something to be kept secret from us? Certainly, I
can understand your suspicion, but I hope you can place
your trust in—”
“N-no, no, Fuzie! I really appreciate what you’ve done,
but it’s all over now!”
“Huh? Over? How do you mean?”
“Um, how to put it…? Well, to sum up, I kind of killed ’em
all!”
“…Um? Them all? Them all, who? What are you talking
about?”
I could understand his confusion.
“I mean, um, the army from Farmus you were talking
about? I killed ’em all!”
“Wh-whaaa?!”
That was about all the utterly shocked Fuze could choke
out. Yohm stepped up to give him a pat on the shoulder,
while Kabal offered a few condolences of his own.
“No, I bet he wouldn’t believe it,” commented Elen.
“Nope,” Gido added.
Nope, indeed. It hadn’t even been two weeks since that
war declaration. I suppose Fuze figured their main force
would reach Tempest in a week, so we’d buy two or three
days of time in open-field combat and prepare for a siege in
the worst case. Considering how the war should’ve started
days ago, and we were totally serene about it, I figured he
had to think it was at least a bit weird by now—but seeing
all of us assembled like this, he must’ve assumed we were
about to sally forth and attack, or something.
In his eyes, we went from dealing with a delayed Farmus
force to the war being in the books. That was a lot to take in
at once, wasn’t it?
“The other day,” Rigurd finally began, “we sent my son
Rigur out to you to give the news. You two must have
missed each other along the way, I fear. But it is just as Sir
Rimuru says. The war is already over.”
Between his and Kabal’s and Elen’s supplemental
commentary, we managed in a little over a few minutes to
convince Fuze that we weren’t pulling an elaborate prank.
“You must be joking,” I heard him whisper under his
breath, but time heals all wounds and all that.
The fifty fighters accompanying him weren’t too
enthused about it, either, so I ordered our soldiers to take
them to our barracks and let them rest up. They looked
exhausted enough to collapse on the spot, limp and lifeless.
Hearing that there wasn’t any war to fight would cut the
tension in pretty short order, I thought. They had
apparently been relying on natural trails in the forest
instead of the highway, in order to avoid encountering
Farmus forces, and all that bushwhacking in full armor
couldn’t have been fun.
So the fighters all muttered their thanks to us as they
marched off to their quarters. All that remained was the
hangdog-looking Fuze.
“Why don’t you get some rest, too, Fuzie?”
“Yes…” He nodded at me. “Yes, this has put my mind in
quite a state of disorder. If I could lie down for a bit…”
But just as he was about to walk toward the barracks,
another guest interrupted him with (im)perfect timing.
“Oops. Here’s someone else. And who could it be but…”
“But?” Fuze asked, stopping as he heard me mutter. He
should’ve kept going. Once he saw who it was, resting was
the last thing on his mind—because standing right there
was Gazel Dwargo, king of the dwarves himself.

Something I had noticed a while ago: Having my Magic

Sense skill evolve into Universal Detect had made my ability
to grasp my surroundings far more accurate across a much
wider range. Despite how far away they were from town, I
could spot the squadron of Pegasus Knights flying in
remarkably fast.

Report. Thirty knights incoming. The individual Gazel

Dwargo is confirmed to be in the vanguard position.

The ultimate skill Raphael, Lord of Wisdom, gave the

report as if nothing could be more trivial.
With this upgrade in accuracy, I was now able to detect
and identify people I had met before. That’s incredibly
convenient. Convenient…but with this range, easily enough
to cover the whole town and a great deal beyond, I’m
starting to think this is literally too much information. To be
frank, I’m getting sick of all these reports, every single
time.
So could you keep ’em a bit more on the brief side,
Sage…um, I mean, Raphael? To be exact, you can report in
when someone’s approaching only if they’re malicious or
harmful to me or whatever.

……Understood.

It felt like Raphael really wanted to say something back

there, but nothing to get worked up about. It’s always best
to assign all the dirty work to someone else, if you can.
Leave it to Raphael! That’s my motto.
So I turned my skill down to the minimum setting as I
awaited our guests. Since it was the skill performing the ID
for me, I could rest assured that these were no impostors.
But before I could even tell Fuze, the Pegasus Knights
flitted down in front of us. King Gazel dismounted first.
He smiled the moment he spotted me. “Ah, Rimuru, nice
to see you again! So I hear you’ve become a demon lord?”
Oh, that. I thought he’d want a word about that. Didn’t
expect him to fly on over himself, though.
“Ah, yeah, kinda. There’s been a lot of stuff going on
around here, Gazel, so I figured I’d become a demon lord.”
I gave him an awkward grin. “Not to make you feel
unwelcome or anything, but we were just about to all meet
up and discuss our future strategy.”
“Well, perfect! I would be happy to join this conference,”
he declared, like it was his god-given right.

It was right about then that Fuze, exhausted and ready

to cry, came up to me.
“Demon lord…? What in heavens is that all about?!”
He had heard our conversation from the side, and I could
tell he wasn’t about to let it slide. Yeah, I didn’t really talk
about that, either… Going in depth right now would just be
a pain in the ass, but Fuze wasn’t going to accept a polite
no, I could tell.
“Sir Rimuru, I find it hard to ignore what you just said!
Because it sounded very much to me that you have become
a demon lord—or something to that effect…?”
He was shaking from head to toe, about ready to pee his
pants.
“Um, if you needed a bathroom, it’s down this street and
—”
“I do not need a bathroom! I never said anything about a
bathroom! This ‘demon lord’ business… Tell me what you
mean by it!”
I suppose that feint didn’t work. Fuze was clearly
starting to lose his temper, and his real personality was
starting to show itself.
“Oh. Um, yeah, demon lord. Well,” I replied as breezily as
possible, “I’m one of ’em now.”
This, sadly, didn’t end the topic.
“Ha-ha-ha! Rather poor taste for a joke, wouldn’t you
think? I was hoping for a more serious answer from you…”
 Ugghh, this is such a pain. Do I have to start from the
very beginning before you’ll get off my back? And now I
could see Gazel looking curiously at me, too. So as much as
I hated going through all this in the middle of the street, I
gave them both a quick recap.
Once I wrapped up, I noticed Fuze was muttering to
nobody in particular, eyes glazed over. His mind must’ve
shut off in an attempt to avoid the reality of it all. At least he
wasn’t lecturing me or anything. Leaving him to his own
ranting, I turned to King Gazel again.
“By the way, Gazel, are you sure it’s all right for a king to
slip out of his own kingdom that easily?”
It was a sincere concern of mine. Not that I’m one to talk,
but the king was being allowed way too long a leash, wasn’t
he? The Armed Nation of Dwargon, in terms of national
power, had to be several dozen times stronger a nation than
ours. Wasn’t the king going out on trips whenever he
pleased kind of a problem?
“Pfft. What is the issue? I have a decoy fully serving for
me!”
Huh? I thought decoys were meant for, like, drawing the
attention of assassins away from the real thing or
something? Or were they meant for playing hooky like this?
I wasn’t too sure either way, but whatever. Gazel had
Pegasus Knight captain Dolph with him, along with quite a
number of his trusted companions. For a security detail, it
was almost too extensive.
“Regardless, Rimuru…” He turned his now-kingly eyes
toward me. “The report Vester sent me three days ago—
that was no mistake, then?”
“Oh, you mean the twenty thousand—”
“Wait, Rimuru. I had heard the Farmus force had gone
missing under mysterious circumstances. Do you know
something about that?”
“Uh, missing?”
Huh? What was he talking about?
 “The way Vester phrased it,” he slowly continued, “a
force of some twenty thousand troops simply vanished
before they could reach this town. Do you have any idea
what may have happened to them?”
He gave Vester a sidelong glance out the corner of his
eye, the silent pressure he emitted almost making his
subject collapse to the ground. I joined his gaze. Vester
vigorously shook his head at me.
“I received the report as well, Vester.”
This was Vaughn speaking, admiral paladin for the
dwarven army and sworn friend to King Gazel; and to
Vester right now, a source of terror.
“At the time, I believe you told us that the Farmus force
had disappeared, and you were investigating why. The
report was curious enough to us that we decided to venture
over ourselves, but is this the explanation?”
His annoyance might be understandable. I had just
brutally massacred a force of twenty thousand, and Gazel
and Vester were trying to kind of gloss over it.
“Well, yes, um, the cause still isn’t quite known yet…”
Vester began choosing his words carefully, trying to
guess at the intentions of his dwarven friends. He was a
quick thinker like that, already trying to bury the lede on
what I had done.
“Fool!” I heard Gazel whisper to me. “If you tell the truth
here, you’ll become an enemy to all humanity—or if not the
enemy, a symbol of terror worldwide.”
Yeah, I guess so, come to think of it. Someone who can
kill in the five figures on one go was scarier than a nuclear
bomb, really. The fewer people who knew about this, the
better—and certainly, nations and people who weren’t
directly involved at all didn’t need to hear the story. The
Kingdom of Farmus attempted to invade monster lands,
only to go completely missing due to an unknown incident
or incidents. That much was the truth, decent enough to
spread across the land.
 There’s Gazel for you. Far more shrewd than I would
ever be. Which means I now have to walk back what I just
said a moment ago. Ugh.
I didn’t mind if the townspeople knew; that wasn’t the
problem, and it was too late now anyway. Nobody was about
to go blabbing it to the general public regardless. The main
issue was Fuze. I gave him a glance; he was still in a state of
panicked confusion.
“Ummm, Fuzie?”
“Sir Rimuruuu…”
So now what? I just declared to him that I wiped out the
entire Farmus military by myself. Should I laugh it off as a
lie?
But as I thought about it, Fuze sighed and raised his
arms up. “I heard nothing. And of course, I don’t think my
fighters in the barracks will remember anything by
tomorrow morning. We’re all so exhausted right now, we
must be hearing voices in our heads.”
Guess he’s staying mum for me. He seemed remarkably
more aged to me now, sorrowful. I suppose he found this
the most convenient way to solve the problem—and
certainly, the best way to tie up all the strings here right
now.
“Hee-hee-hee-hee… In that case, allow me to visit them
to make sure,” Diablo offered. He had sidled up next to me
out of nowhere with that smile on his face again. Funny guy.
The perfect butler. You could ask pretty much anything of
him, and he’d do it. At the moment, he was gleefully taking
care of the assorted errands I asked him to do. I think I
might have heard him whisper “I am quite gifted at altering
memories” to me just now, but let’s pretend I didn’t.
Fuze had mixed feelings about it, I could tell, but he was
willing to deal with it as long as his people were safe. He
understood King Gazel’s take—the fewer people who knew,
the better. When politics get involved like this, governments
might not be afraid to shut witnesses up permanently, after
all. Maybe it’s smarter to shut your eyes now and again.
Still…
“I will not question how my fighters are handled, but I
insist on joining this conference of yours.”
It sounded to me like this was one point Fuze refused to
negotiate on. His eyes were resolute—he must’ve figured
the topic of our meeting wasn’t something he could afford
to be in the dark on.
“All right.” I shrugged. “I want you to believe that I’m not
hostile to humanity. I won’t keep you out.”

And so, Rigurd guided Fuze to a waiting room. Since we

now had a dwarven contingent participating, we needed to
set up a larger meeting hall for everybody, and in the
meantime, they could all probably use some rest.
“Hmph,” grumbled Gazel as we saw them go off. “You
trust that man, Rimuru?”
“Yeah, he’s safe.”
Fuze was a trustworthy man. I was confident enough in
that.
“Mm. Then I suppose the problem is those people.”
He turned his attention toward the empty space behind
us. Um, or was it empty? I turned around, surprised, only to
find an unfamiliar group watching us. There was a well-
dressed gentleman at the lead, his face well-defined; he
must have been very popular with the opposite sex when he
was younger. His eyes were notably sharp, and he was
flanked on both sides by five or so guards, all outfitted in
similarly fine gear; perhaps high-ranked military officers or
the like.
The group was clearly well trained, and…man, they were
right behind me this whole time, and I never noticed? What
the hell happened to Universal Detect, man?!
 However, I was the only concerned witness, it turned out.

Report. No clear hostility detected among the group.

If that’s what the somewhat pouty Raphael had to say, I

could believe it. Maybe this was my fault. I did just tell it to
stop giving me reports all the time. I suppose “malicious or
harmful” is a bit too vague to make much sense of. Raphael
had a right to be angry, perhaps.
Sorry, I said to myself. Go ahead and give the full reports
from now on. It seemed kind of lame, really, apologizing to
one of my own skills, but I at least wanted to express my
feelings.
As I underwent this internal conflict, Gazel and the
mystery group were already engaging each other.
“And you people are…?”
“Ah, I see it’s the emperor who enjoys hiding in his
underground burrow! Very impressive, to see a coward like
you provide backing to the ‘demon lord’ like this…”
The stern greeting did nothing to break the man’s
easygoing style. He was clearly trying to goad the dwarven
king while the officers rolled their eyes at him in
exasperation.
Gazel, recognizing them all, flashed a bold smile. “Aha.
You, then. The elf descendants whose heads are always in
the clouds. Did you descend from that fancy tree city of
yours, then?”
I suppose they all knew each other. Raphael was right—
no malice to speak of; these two just didn’t get along too
well, is all. Or more like they enjoyed arguing for the sake of
arguing.
“Sir Rimuru, I believe these to be envoys from the
Sorcerous Dynasty of Thalion,” stated Soka, one of Soei’s
operatives. She had apparently brought these people here
—and once the man recognized King Gazel, he immediately
started giving him crap.
“You never change, do you, Erald?”
“Neither do you, Gazel.”
This was the way the two decided to greet each other,
looks of sheer contempt on their faces.
“And that girl there is…?”
“Oh, hello there. My name’s Rimuru, and I run things
around the forest alliance we have here.”
Erald, the squinty-eyed guy, had his eyes turned to me,
so I gave him a casual hello. Any visitors from Thalion
needed to be treated with the utmost courtesy—not that I
really knew anything about manners or diplomatic customs
or anything. Becoming a demon lord’s great and all, but it’s
not like there’s an instruction manual for it. Hopefully I’ll
track someone down who can teach me the finer points
sometime.
Upon hearing my name, Erald suddenly tensed up—then
opened his eyes as wide as he could. “You!” he bellowed.
“The demon lord who seduced my daughter! I hope you are
prepared to atone for that!”
He immediately began to cast what even I could tell was
a vastly overpowered flame spell. Yikes. Chill out, dude.
Based on the knowledge I gathered, a flame spell on such
a high level was one of the most difficult pieces of magic to
pull off. The whole family of fire magic occupied its own
branch in the tree of aspectual magic, starting with your
garden-variety puff of Fire and moving on from there to
Fireball and the more difficult Fire Wall and Fire Storm.
The harder it is to pull off, the more of a boom it makes.
At the very peak of this scale lies what, for the sake of
simplicity, I call “compounding” magic. Combining the
burning nature of flame spells with the shock-wave effects
of explosive spells, for example, can provide magic on a
scale beyond either of the original two types. That was just
the type of compounding Shizu was gifted at, come to think
of it. The main difference was that she relied on an
elemental spirit to power her casting. That’s not easy, not
unless you’re as talented a caster as Shizu was, but once
you have that relationship in place, the elemental will do
most of the fine-tuning for you.
Compounded spells on the very tippy top of the scale like
this were quite hazardous, because they required you to
control the magic manually. But since they were not a part
of any “official” magic family, they offered a great deal of
freedom. You had full control, juggling aspects of the spell
like launch speed, targeting accuracy, size and scope of the
effect, and duration. If brute strength was all you wanted,
you could level a town easily enough with one.
This, of course, came at some danger to the caster. You
needed enough spiritual force to gather the required
magicules together to keep the spell under control, or else
it wouldn’t work, letting that energy run amok instead of
being consumed—and potentially raze the entire area
around you. It goes without saying that this sort of magic
wasn’t something the general public saw much of—we’re
talking literally military-grade stuff. You had to be at least
an accredited wizard to be allowed to touch it.
It was absolutely not the kind of thing I wanted in my city,
and now Erald was casting it. What was he thinking? It
made no sense to me. And what’s he mean seduced?
The whole thing left me confused for a moment, but
again, I shouldn’t have worried. From the side came a loud
bang, like someone fired off a shotgun, and then Elen’s
distressed shouting.
“Dad, come onnnn! What are you here for?!”
She barged in, looking livid, and immediately gave Erald
a bop on the head before he could react. It was enough for
him to come back to his senses. I suppose he was her father,
then? And judging by the chewing out Elen was giving him,
he must’ve been a bit regretful by now. Scary, isn’t it, seeing
someone fly into a rage without warning like that? He
seemed like such an intellectual gentleman, like Gazel. So
much for that.
“Ah… Ha-ha-ha. Sorry about that,” he said with a
cheerful smile. “I was informed that a demon lord had
kidnapped my daughter, and I suppose I lost my cool for a
moment.”
Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you get to cast maximum-
force fire magic in my town. What a loony dad.
“No, my lord,” one of his men, a timid-looking assistant,
coolly observed. “Our reports involved far more than that,
but you jumped to a hasty conclusion.”
“See? I knew it! This is totally your fault, Daddd!”
I felt a little bad for Dad, visibly withering on the spot,
but he had it coming. If anything, I wanted him to regret it
even more.
“…You always were too overprotective a father,” Gazel
said once things calmed down.
“I am not,” Erald fired back unapologetically. “How can I
help it? Elen is simply too precious to me.”
“Yes, all children are to their parents, but… Ah, this is
pointless.”
The way Gazel rolled his eyes told me that Erald was
known for this. You can’t fix the fatherly instinct, I guess.

Once things had simmered down between Gazel and

Erald, Elen stepped up to say hello, an elegant air
surrounding her despite her rough adventurer’s garb.
“I am sorry I have been out of contact, King Gazel.”
“Ah, Ellwyn? I hardly recognized you! How grand it is to
see you in good health. I see the years have been very kind
to your beauty!”
“Keep your hands off her, Gazel!” Erald interjected,
earning him another slap from Elen and round of
admonishment from his assistant. Gazel just shrugged,
apparently used to this act. If Elen’s on the scene, her
father just loses all sense of self, doesn’t he? Not exactly
the member of the intelligentsia I took him for at first.
Better watch out for that.
“Sir Rimuru, this is Erald Grimwald, my father and
archduke of Thalion.”
“It is an honor to meet you, leader of Jura and master of
the monsters. As my daughter just said, I am Archduke
Erald Grimwald. Please, just Erald is fine.”
So this guy’s an archduke in the Sorcerous Dynasty?
That’s pretty high up there, isn’t it? Dwargon isn’t the only
kingdom sending their big guns over to see us. I would later
learn that he was closely related to the Thalion royal family
—the current emperor’s uncle, in fact. That explained why
he was acting so familiar and casual around Gazel. To put it
simply, he was one of three most powerful people from his
native country.
I could hardly hide my surprise. Does that mean…? Wow,
is Elen some kind of crazy-influential fairy-tale princess?! I
knew she was of noble blood, but not that much! She’s not
far from the throne at all, lineage-wise, and she’s working
as an adventurer? Talk about being given a lot of freedom!
And I can’t be the only one to think it’d be better to put a
stop to that, not that Elen herself would likely care. I
imagined she probably had people keeping an eye on her,
given how sure she was that the advice she gave me on
becoming a demon lord would come back to haunt her. And
all that trouble she gives Kabal and Gido, too. I really ought
to reward them for that next time.
But for now…
“So did you travel here just to inquire about Elen?”
I doubted it, as I sized up Erald.
“Hee-hee-hee! No, of course not. As we consider how we
should interact with your nation, I wanted a chance to see
you with my own eyes—this leader that my daughter seems
so fond of. Given the sense of authority you appear to bring
to your people, I find it hard to believe you are a slime at
all… But still, I feel I have a much more complete picture of
your strengths now.”
He accentuated this with a nefarious-sounding laugh. I
suppose that overpowered flame strike was his way of
testing me as well. Me—and Benimaru, Shuna, and Shion
adjacent; none demonstrated a hint of panic—it wouldn’t
have; they had already seen he had no intention of actually
launching it. Given how hotheaded they all were not long
ago, that was some palpable growth.
“It was clear,” Shuna explained, “that you had far less
than the required energy needed for the spell you were
casting, once I read what it was.”
Erald grinned at this, a bit ashamed that his act was
spotted for what it was.
“Well, I suppose I have quite a while to go, if you can see
through me that clearly!”
“Not at all,” she calmly replied. “Between the speed at
which you deployed it and the skill you showed at making it
look real, it was an impressive sight to see. Considering the
artificial body you possess, that level of accuracy is
remarkable.”
“Oh? You noticed I was using a homunculus? Color me
surprised.”
“Yes. It seemed to me you had fused your spiritual body
into it. Very impressive. It would certainly take a nation of
magic-users such as yours to pull that off.”
I used Analyze and Assess at Shuna’s suggestion. She
was right; Erald had borrowed this body from somewhere
else. His officers were all “real,” but once you reach the
higher ranks of nobility, I suppose it paid to be careful. I had
thought he was rather lightly outfitted for a summit with a
self-styled demon lord. Maybe the dwarven King Gazel over
there was the crazy one.
Still, it was really something. An elaborately fine-tuned
homunculus, indistinguishable from a human being. Once
things calm down, I’d love to learn how that works.
 So Erald was here to size up our nation and its leaders.
That and a few other things, too, I’m sure, but we can tackle
that later. No need to force it out of him right this moment.
Since he’s here and all, I figured I might as well have him
join the conference, so he’d have more stuff to judge us
with. I wanted his take on our future direction as well, and
this would be a good opportunity for that. It might result in
us and the Sorcerous Dynasty becoming enemies, of course,
but we’d just have to cross that bridge when we came to it.
Gobta ran up to inform me that the meeting hall was
ready.
I was planning to have this be a more informal confab
between Jura buddies, but things had changed. This really
was a summit. Usually, with things like these, you’d have
lower-level diplomats meet up first and agree in advance on
questions to ask and topics to tackle, figuring out where
there was room for compromise once both sides were
aware of each other’s stakes. Here, though, there was no
greasing the gears in advance. We’d be giving frank
opinions to each other, and in the end, we’d pin down our
federation’s future. It wouldn’t be going too far to call it a
war of words.
Steeling my resolve, I headed for the meeting hall, ready
to emcee one of the most important gatherings I—and
Tempest—had ever experienced.

In later years, the event would come to be known as the

Monster-and-Man Summit.

In the hall, I found everyone standing upright, awaiting our

arrival. All the main powerbrokers in the event—the Three
Lycanthropeers, Fuze, King Gazel, and Archduke Erald—
were shown to their guest seats. Once I took my own at the
far end of the hall, everyone else sat down.
The air was heavy when the talks began.

We began by having each side introduce themselves,

given the multiple large nations now involved. Some
already knew one another, but I thought it best for
politeness’ sake that everybody was on the same page.
“So. Let’s begin by having our guests introduced.”
I turned to Shuna, who promptly began reading off
names.

The Beast Kingdom of Eurazania, represented by the

Three Lycanthropeers from the Beast Master’s Warrior
Alliance. Given that Phobio and Sufia had a slight—all right,
serious—tendency to think with their sword-swingin’
muscles instead of their brains, I figured we’d mostly be
focused on Alvis’s feedback.

The Armed Nation of Dwargon, land of the dwarves,

represented by their kin himself, Gazel Dwargo. He seemed
perfectly content with me trying to cover up the whole
twenty-thousand-dead thing. He undoubtedly had his own
motivations for it, so I suppose I ought to keep that under
consideration. It seemed like I’d be able to rely on him quite
a bit going forward.

The kingdom of Blumund, represented by…no one,

officially, although having the nation’s guild master in Fuze
wasn’t a bad substitute. Fuze was intimately connected with
Baron Veryard, one of the kingdom’s top ministers, so he
did have enough authority to be here and provide some
valuable advice.
 The Sorcerous Dynasty of Thalion, very suddenly
represented by Archduke Erald—a sharp-minded, noble-
looking, powerful figure, even if he was near powerless to
defy his beloved daughter. If he was here to gauge the
worth of our nation, I presumed he wasn’t foolish enough to
let Elen sway his judgment. He wasn’t someone to neglect—
and definitely not someone to drop my guard around.
Besides…Thalion was powerful enough to take on the
entire Council by itself, on the same level as Dwargon. If all
went well, we could establish formal ties with them,
perhaps. I didn’t want to be greedy, though, so baby steps
would be key in dealing with him.

Sizing them all up like this, we had a fairly prestigious

lineup here. In a way, I was glad all these humans were
here for it. If it was just us Forest of Jura denizens, our
deliberations might’ve drifted off the rails entirely.
Next came introductions from the Tempest side. One by
one, I had my top brass talk about themselves a little bit.
Rigurd and the hobgoblin elders practically oozed authority
by this point, decked out in befittingly regal-ish clothing and
not losing out at all to their counterparts in foreign lands.
More regal than myself, really. The bedrock of our whole
nation.
Once every department in town checked in, we next
heard from Treyni, dryad and caretaker of the forest.
Having such a lofty local presence around seemed to
surprise Erald at first, but he bottled it up and nodded a
greeting to her. Gazel found this more than a little amusing,
even though I’m sure he and his crew were just as
surprised about the whole damn thing when they first met
her. Ah well.
Finally, there was the contingent from Farmus—Yohm,
Mjurran, and Gruecith as well. I wanted to have them build
a new nation for me, something I was planning to suggest
at this summit. Would people be open to it? That was a vital
part of the whole thing, something that’d augur the
ultimate success of this event.
Once Shion and Diablo behind me gave a couple of quick
hellos, the meet-and-greet part of the summit was over. Oh,
wait. Forgot someone.
“Shuna, do we have a change of clothes for Veldora?”
“Yes, Sir Veldora is…”
Before Shuna could finish, a loud, hearty Gwaaah-ha-ha-
ha! filled the hall. I wanted some clothing for him since
being in the buff probably wouldn’t impress too many
visitors, and it looks like we were just in time. The doors
opened to reveal Veldora, taking in the sight curiously. I
stood up to greet him and explain things to our visitors.
“I have one more friend to introduce, one whose name
should be familiar to you all. I know this may sound
surprising, but…”
The Tempestians in the audience nervously gulped. They
already knew Veldora well enough, but having a legendary,
villainous dragon in their presence still unnerved them
more than a little bit. I could feel the electricity in the air as
silence began to take hold.
“This is the Jura-Tempest Federation’s friend, Veldora.”
“Yes, Veldora! Some also refer to me as the Storm
Dragon! Although, so few have an encounter with me and
live to tell the tale, so perhaps you all should consider
yourselves lucky. Lucky and honored to be in my lofty
presence!!”
Pompous as always, I could see, although it suited him
well. But could I really trust him to behave at a summit like
this? All I could picture was him growing bored in five
minutes and attempting to butt in.
“For today’s summit, I was kinda hoping you could join in
as an adviser and maybe try to stay on good behavior. Or
you can leave, if you want?”
“Gah-ha-ha-ha! Why the cold shoulder, Rimuru? Don’t
leave me out of the party!”
“Well, look, we’re trying to have a serious conversation
here, so just try not to get in the way, all right?”
“Trust me! There is no way I would ever interfere with
you!”
If that’s how he saw it, I had to be content with that. If
worse came to worst, I could give him some of that beloved
manga he took from my mind to keep him quiet.

The hall remained quiet as Veldora and I spoke, nobody

moving an inch.
Well… Hmm? Actually, Fuze and Elen had passed out on
the floor. Rigurd and the other hob-gobs were prostrating
themselves before us for some reason, while Gazel was
shouting “A moment, Rimuru, please! We must discuss this
at once!!” and order was generally falling apart all over the
place. The whole thing was pandemonium, and it goes
without saying that the summit had to go into recess for a
bit. Not that we had started yet.

There was panic in the aisles, a lot more than I was

expecting. You would think the apocalypse was here. Man…
That Veldora. Guess that Storm Dragon stuff wasn’t just a
nickname after all. I suppose I should’ve expected it. Having
a catastrophe-rated monster, the highest level of danger
there was, stroll into the meeting hall without warning was
bound to lead to chaos. They were treated as stronger than
demon lords, even.
But think about it. If that guy’s gonna sow chaos sooner
or later, might as well get his intro out of the way quickly.
Considering my plans, I couldn’t leave Veldora and his
motivations out of the picture. So I wanted him here, even if
it left the other guests limp and pale with terror.
As much as Veldora was keeping his aura bottled up,
some of it might’ve been hitting them all anyway. Benimaru,
Shion, and my other leaders shut off their auras as a habit,
something we were all used to now that weaker monsters
and humans were frequent visitors. Diablo, despite being
the new guy, could fully switch it off without me having to
ask. I was honestly impressed. He was a good model for the
others to follow.
So Veldora was still a problem in that aspect, but thanks
to our intensive training, he could now adjust his aura on
the fly. He proudly proclaimed it was like child’s play to him,
but it was really more thanks to the ultimate skill Faust,
Lord of Investigation.
With that, I figured he’d be fine to bring out. Was that too
optimistic, maybe? After all, even when sealed away, his
aura was still daunting enough to keep any monster ranked
B or below at bay. I ran Analyze and Assess on the
magicules that filled the hall. No problems there. So the
cause would have to be—
“Rimuru? We need to talk.”
Gazel was there, giving me a pat on the shoulder and a
threatening smile. “Let’s delay this summit, so I may have
some time.”
He must have been serious about it, given his shouting
earlier. My instincts told me not to defy him. So I declared
recess and stood up. I didn’t hear any complaints from the
gallery (not that all of them were conscious enough to voice
them).
Leaving the hall to my assistants, we moved into the
reception area. I left Veldora behind at Gazel’s request,
which I figured wouldn’t be a problem. Some of the
attendees, the Three Lycanthropeers included, were so
keen on currying favor with the Storm Dragon that I was
sure he’d be occupied for a least a little while.
………
 ……
…
I was alone in the room with Gazel and Erald. Shuna was
off brewing tea for the whole conference while Benimaru
and Shion fought to calm things down.
“Let me just say this first,” Erald began. “I have been
given full freedom of action by Her Excellency, the Heavenly
Emperor. It is my word that will decide the position of the
Sorcerous Dynasty of Thalion, and I would advise you to
keep that in mind as you explain all this to me.”
The doting-father Erald was a distant memory. Here was
the Thalion statesman, the face of an all-powerful nobility,
and even I had to admire the dignity he held himself with.
So Thalion wouldn’t be willing to sweep this incident under
the rug? He didn’t voice any intention of hostilities against
us, but depending on what I decided to do, we might
become foes regardless. At the same time, I figured, he also
had to clean up after Elen, what with everything she’s been
doing around here.
Which meant, hey, if we aren’t enemies, it couldn’t be a
problem to ask for an alliance.
“All right. I promise I’ll be honest with you as well.”
He seemed to be speaking frankly with me. I should be
just as serious with him. So our confidential talks began.

We kicked off with Gazel.

“So what did you want to talk about?”
“Certainly not the weather, you fool!” Not even the
dwarven king could hide his shock as he excitedly half
shouted at me. “Why has the Storm Dragon been
resurrected?!”
That was a rare sight from the normally coolheaded
Gazel. He must’ve really flipped his lid. I thought about
talking my way out of this, but there was no point to it. So I
decided to summarize things—at least, the part about how I
ran into Veldora in the cave and agreed to help him out of
his prison.
Once I wrapped up, Gazel groaned, a hand covering his
face. “This is beyond all expectation. You becoming a demon
lord is a problem in itself without this to contend with…”
I thought about lightening the mood by saying “Oh, no
need to compliment me that much” but opted against it. If I
was wrong, it’d send Gazel flying into a rage.
“So, Sir Rimuru, is that really, truly…?”
I nodded at Erald. Veldora was in human form and hiding
his aura, perhaps making it a tad hard to swallow.
“…I suppose it would have to be,” he observed. “No one,
man or monster, would be foolish enough to pretend to be
that terrible dragon.”
I suppose not. That must be why Elen and Fuze were so
readily accepting. Names held particular importance for
monsters, but even a human would earn no advantage
whatsoever from pretending to be the Storm Dragon. And
Gazel never doubted it from the start. I asked him why
later, and his reply was simple: “Because I couldn’t read
him.” Which implied that Gazel has some kind of intrinsic
mind-reading ability. Strong in more ways than one, I guess.
But I digress.
“What should we do with this, though…?”
“Indeed,” Erald said to his fellow king. “And here I am,
already frantic enough attempting to clean up after all my
daughter’s misdeeds…”
I suppose the two were much closer friends than they
seemed at first glance.
“Do we announce this, or do we cover it up? There’s the
problem.”
“The Western Nations are not a concern,” Erald said.
“Even in Thalion, I see no issue with reporting this to Her
Excellency the Emperor and no one else. But…”
“But the Western Holy Church, yes? Secrecy will earn us
nothing with them. The Church has made it clear the Storm
Dragon is the one dragon type they are most hostile to. If
it’s resurrected, they would know immediately.”
“And if we tried to hide it, we would need to feign
ignorance, which would be impossible to back up. Either
way, he would be branded an ‘enemy of god’ in short order.”
The two pondered what to do. Me? Oh, I was just saying
“mm-hmm” or “yeah” now and then. Not a bad gig.
“Are you listening, Rimuru?”
“Yes. You’re the one who roped us into this crisis, one
that puts a great deal of trouble upon all of us. We need you
to think more seriously about matters, or…or I don’t know
what we’ll do!”
Oops. Guess they’re pissed off. Let’s just be a bit more
apologetic and give my side of the story.
“Well, there’s no way to fully hide Veldora, so my
intention’s to let the word out to the public. There’s no way
my nation’s going to avoid the Church’s eyes anyway, so…
you know. I’ll figure something out.”
“Hmm.” Gazel nodded at me. “If that is your decision, I
have no qualms with it.”
“A demon lord and dragon joining hands is not at all a
laughing matter. This has become a more pressing issue
than even I had thought at first. But looking at it another
way, this is also a stroke of good luck, being able to
participate in this summit. I have obtained exactly the
information we need to decide how our country will
stand…”
Erald, meanwhile, was discussing his country’s
standpoint more than his own, with another one of his eerie
smiles. His take: It would be foolish to pick a fight against a
nation with both a disaster-class demon lord and a
catastrophe-class dragon. Gazel agreed with him, solemnly
nodding. In terms of international pedigree, Tempest
couldn’t hold a candle to superpowers like Dwargon and
Thalion, but if you focused solely on military strength, we
didn’t just match these guys; we surpassed them. Gazel and
Erald, in their own ways, were admitting to that.
“Should I take that to mean,” I ventured, “that should
hostilities break out between us and the Western Church,
you will take our side?”
“That is what you ask?” Gazel bitterly countered.
“Rimuru, you truly must learn how to express these things
better. Thank heavens this is a confidential talk…”
As he explained, just because he had no reason for
Dwargon to see Tempest as a foe didn’t mean he was
obligated to expose his own nation to danger. That was
doubly true in the case of the Western Holy Church, which
the Dwarven Kingdom was not particularly connected to.
Instead, all he could promise was that we could retain
current relations, with neutrality being the word of the day.
That left Erald, archduke of a nation I hadn’t even begun
to try establishing relations with. Despite the
circumstances, he seemed oddly willing to see things my
way…so far, at least.
“I’m glad to have your support, Gazel. So, um, mister…
um, Sir Erald, could I ask why you are being so kind to me
with this…?”
Erald looked similarly reluctant to put it into words. “…
You know you can call me whatever you like here, ‘sir’ or
not. Just please be sure to include my name and appellation
in public, Sir Rimuru. As the leader of a nation, there is
absolutely no reason to place yourself below other leaders
on the record—not unless you are eager to become the
vassal territory of another nation. But to answer your
question…”
Funny how he’s taking pains to save me from
embarrassment. I guess he’s got a kinder side as well. I
thanked him for that, only to be greeted with a stare and a
long sigh before he began to explain why he was here and
what he wanted.
It all started with Elen, his daughter. Her leaking info
about how to awaken as a demon lord had led to an
investigation as to who should be held responsible. It was
kind of like she had created a new one, I suppose, and no
nation could afford to ignore that. But then the archduke
sprang into action. Someone like Erald had enough
strength to kill the whole affair, and he did, making sure
only the emperor knew the truth. All that remained was for
him to gauge the situation and take action as necessary.
Keeping tabs on us magically was apparently quite a
strenuous feat for him, but he still managed to confirm that
I had indeed become a demon lord. He could’ve just played
dumb if I had failed, but once I did, I could no longer be
ignored. So he was here to size me up and potentially send
a force over to suppress me should things go awry.
“So,” he said in closing, “I wanted as few people to be
aware of those facts as possible. Thus, I came out here
myself.”
In other words, I supposed, if he thought I was an evil
presence, he would’ve destroyed us all and pretended
nothing had ever happened.
“And what’s your decision, then?”
“Well, as I said before, my decision for today is friendship
over hostility.”
Aha. That makes sense. And being seen as non-evil made
me kind of happy, too.
“A fairly obvious choice,” Gazel retorted.
“Of course. Our nation enjoys freedom of religion. Our
people adhere to more than only the monotheistic Luminus
faith. I seek to prioritize the fortunes of our nation, rather
than sacrifice myself for the sake of religion.”
“Pfft. I never did like you, Erald, but we keep agreeing on
these matters. My nation and the Western Holy Church do
not share a common motive, either. From the very
beginning, I intended to support our friends in Tempest.”
They shared a smile.
“But this doesn’t mean we’re without problems of our
own. For example, the Farmus force that Sir Rimuru
destroyed. Whether it was war or not, the death toll is
simply too high.” Erald scowled. “And to think it was my
daughter who planted that seed…”
So that was his real motivation, then. The problem wasn’t
whether I was evil or not—it lay in whether the
circumstances of the battle was known to the Western Holy
Church. A demon lord who killed twenty thousand was
going to look pretty damn evil to just about any sane
person. It would lend valuable credence to the Church’s
declarations, and I’d be named an enemy of god in short
order.
Now I see. The fallout from forging friendly ties with such
an evil presence—i.e., me—could be uncomfortable for any
nation to deal with. Sounded rough. I began wondering
what we could do about that, before Gazel grinned at me.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got an idea.”
Oh, could it be…? The way Gazel went on about how the
Farmus army went “missing” earlier?
“All the bodies are gone. There is no evidence. And
scarily enough, there are no survivors, either, are there?”
He smiled. “Then why not change the plot to whatever we
damn well want it to be?”
The common people, along with the rest of the world?
They didn’t need the truth. Just give ’em a nice-sounding
story, and everyone will be happy.
“Hohh, a fascinating offer,” Erald said, eyes shining as he
went back into statesman mode. “Would you mind if I
contributed to that, Gazel?”
He must’ve intended to fabricate a convenient story, one
that ensured none of our hands were dirty. That’d help out
Elen, he no doubt believed, and somewhere down the line,
it’d even help Thalion’s fortunes. Better go all in on this,
then. Besides, I had already decided to keep my nation safe,
even if it meant massacring twenty thousand. Even if I have
to shoulder heavier crimes, that faith of mine wasn’t going
anywhere.
 “I suppose you have the broadness of mind to deal with
whatever may come, Rimuru? Very well. A king must never
live with regrets.”
Yeah, no point ruing the past. That was part of the
Initiation, and I needed it.
“I’m ready for anything. But what’s the story you have in
mind, Gazel?”
“Heh-heh. Well said.”
Gazel’s eyes on me softened. We had little time left and a
great number of details to work out.
………
……
…
The chaos had subsided by the time we were back in the
meeting hall. Cooler heads had prevailed, and the
unconscious had been attended to. I wasn’t expecting this
kind of furor, but ah well. What’s past is past. Gotta focus on
what’s ahead. I got to discuss things with Gazel and Erald,
too, and if you think about it, that was a golden opportunity.

Fuze and Elen and the others were sprawled out on their
chairs, all but lifeless.
“Are you all right? How are you feeling?”
“I…I heard nothing about this devastating news…”
“You, you’re just awful, Rimuru! I didn’t hear anything
about that. V-Veldora was your friend? Did, did you ever
mention that?”
They had a lot of, shall we say, negative feedback. I mean,
what do you want from me? I couldn’t really say “Well, I had
swallowed him into my Stomach” and even if I did, they’d
never believe me.
“Oh, didn’t I? I think I did, maybe…? Well, there’s no
point dwelling on the past. Come on! We got a summit to
run!”
I tried to give them as breezy a smile as possible. It didn’t
work.
“““Don’t gloss over it!!””” they all shouted in unison.
“Ha, ha-ha-ha, yeah…”
I did what I could to soothe them, smiling as I kept
chattering away. Why’re they acting so mean with me,
though? I’m a demon lord now, and they’re treating me the
exact same way. Which I was glad for; I didn’t want things
to get all distant and weird. But maybe a little more
respect?
“Are you even listening to me?” Elen protested. “You
could at least try to be a little more apologetic!”
“Yeah, she’s right, pal!”
“This has been hard on the ol’ ticker,” commented Gido.
Respect seemed like a distant dream at the moment. Of
course, it’s totally in character for them all.
Fuze hadn’t changed, either. “Ah, I just… How am I going
to report this to my boss…? Wait! I’m a guild master, aren’t
I?!” He had already accepted the situation, just as bold and
brazen as before. I couldn’t believe this was the guy who let
Veldora freak him out a moment ago. If I hadn’t advised him
to use the bathroom earlier, I’m sure he would’ve peed his
pants.
I congratulated him on that. He glared back at me.
“As if none of this is your fault… I’m going to report this
in detail to my bosses, then bill you for the mental distress
you’re putting me through!”
And here I was expecting him to thank me for my timely
advice. Now he’s angrier than ever. Well, whatever. At least
my joking around helped Fuze find his voice again.

So everyone had now accepted Veldora, more or less. It

was another hour before we finally got the summit rolling
again.
Now we were starting for real.
Our conflict with Clayman remained an internal affair for
the moment; that could wait. Soei gave me a quick report,
but apparently, they couldn’t discover Clayman’s main base
of operations. The fact that he had an army on the move
was concerning, but Soei was keeping up his watch.
Nothing new was going to happen with that immediately,
so I decided to get this summit wrapped up first.

I decided to begin with a recap, as annoying as it was to

me. We had all been through a lot, but laying out everything
in detail to everyone at once should save us time later. I
wanted everyone to be on the same page.
So I began by relating how I met Veldora, dropping in my
status as an otherworlder along the way. Hiding my origins
seemed meaningless at this point. All of my people in
Tempest knew, and I had no vested interest in keeping it
from Gazel or Erald. It’s not like a demon lord also being an
ex-otherworlder would give them anything new to work
with against me. Leon was one himself, after all.
I gave a quick summary of the orc lord fight and how it
led to us building the town here. Sharing information was
important, even if doing so led people to react in different
ways.
Moving on, I shifted to my voluntary journeys in Englesia.
This involved a lot of glossing over of my life there, along
with the request I received from Yuuki, but I did go into
detail about my fight with Hinata. Man, she was rough. If it
had been anyone besides me, they probably would’ve been
killed—Benimaru or Soei, even. Her skills were on par with
or beyond Hakuro’s, and she could cast magic the likes of
which I never saw before. That Holy Field one was
particularly nasty. I used Thought Communication to let
everyone else experience my memory and recognition of it.
She might have a smaller version of that in her pocket,
ready to spring on single targets. I didn’t think anyone in
the room could do much against it, but it was better than
going on nothing. The more they knew about the threat
Hinata posed, the better. They might be able to escape, at
least.
“Hinata Sakaguchi?”
It was Fuze who reacted first.
“She may seem cruel at first. I suppose she gives the
impression of a crazed murderer to most. But according to
the information we have, she’s actually a little different
from all that. For one thing, she’s always willing to extend a
helping hand to anyone who depends on her, and anyone
willing to accept her help is sure to receive it—but if you
don’t listen to her advice, she’ll never deal with you again.
Whatever her motivations, though, I am assured she is a
rational leader.”
He seemed to know a lot about her—and was willing to
come to her defense, too. I didn’t want to fight her, either…
It’s just that she didn’t want to listen to my story one bit,
you know? If she refuses to help people who ignore her own
background and situation, that describes my interactions
with her pretty well. She must have a ton of people seeking
favors from her, and I can see how she’d want to ignore
them after a while. Pragmatic would be the way to describe
it. Yuuki described her as a realist, too. I’m sure Fuze’s
intelligence was valid. He sure seems well-informed, doesn’t
he?
Gazel nodded at this. “Mm. The guild master of Blumund
clearly has a finger in every pie, as they say. The accuracy of
your information is equal only to that of my own dark
agents. I will gladly testify that what you heard is exactly
what we have heard.”
Nice to have the confirmation. But:
“Maybe so, but she didn’t listen to me at all.”
She didn’t. From the get-go, I was her target. Even if
someone was feeding her a line about me beforehand, it
was like she was deaf to me.
“Well,” Erald said, “that would be because one core tenet
of Luminism is that you are never allowed to bargain with
monsters.” I was surprised to hear that from him. Hinata
was enough of a celebrity to even be known in Thalion, it
seemed. She had a rep in places I never dreamed of…
Although, I suppose any nation’s intelligence agency would
keep tabs on the most powerful knight in the Western Holy
Church. Is she famous because she’s beautiful? I thought
for a moment but decided it best to keep that secret.
Following their guidance, I began to build a picture of
Hinata in my mind. She was notorious for her cruel words
and coldhearted actions, but apparently she had never
actually broken a single tenet of her religion. She was the
model soldier in every way, an unblemished guardian of law
and order. So why didn’t she put an end to the summoning
rituals taking place worldwide? The kind of rapid-fire
summons favored by certain lands bore a very high chance
of bringing children over. It was evil, really, on a national
level.
“On the other hand,” Fuze countered, “do we really know
for sure Hinata is aware of all of this summoning and
willfully ignoring it?”
A fair point, but…
“Summoning magic powerful enough to produce an
otherworlder is a forbidden, secret Art, not the kind of
magic you’ll see in public. The Council of the West has
criminalized it, and I’m sure you won’t find a lot of nations
who’ll voluntarily admit to it. They’ll just say ‘No, we don’t
do that’ and then make it impossibly difficult to pursue the
issue any further. The Western Holy Church holds a lot of
sway in their region, yes, but if we’re talking about getting
to the point of freely meddling in internal government
politics, then no, it’s not that deep.”
Even if a kingdom like Farmus used otherworlders as
military weapons, I’m sure they’d just explain it away as,
you know, discovering an otherworlder on their doorstep
and giving them shelter. Without solid evidence, not even
the Church could investigate. You couldn’t really complain
that Hinata was negligent, per se.
And that brought to mind something else Yuuki had
mentioned:
“If something seems the most effective way to her, she’ll
do it, I guess you could say, but…but it makes no sense to
me, no.”
Maybe Hinata really was working to stop this, in her own
way. If so, there was no point stewing about it here.
“The point is,” I reflected, “Hinata’s a serious threat. If I
could at least get her to talk to me, we could set something
up where we don’t have to be dueling to the death…”
But if the Church labeled me a foe of all divinity, a duel
would be unavoidable. I wanted to avoid that if possible, but
if it happens, it happens.
“Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh. Perhaps I could go out and take
care of her, then? There is no better way to quell your
anxieties for the future than eliminating the problem from
the start, no?”
Wow, Diablo. Confident much? Being the new guy on the
team must’ve made him hungry for work. I really wish he
would think more before he opened his mouth.
“Whoa, man, you realize that even I lost to— Um, I mean,
fought to an even tie with Hinata, right? Just because you’re
on the scene won’t make it some open-and-shut case!”
“He’s right, Diablo,” Shion added. “If someone like you
wants to face him down, then I’ll go over and finish her off
first. I await your order, Sir Rimuru!”
See? First Diablo starts mouthing off, then Shion joins
the fray and goes all battle crazy again.
“Now, now, Lady Shion. I do owe you a debt for teaching
me the ins and outs of assisting Sir Rimuru, so I hardly wish
to berate you…but I sadly cannot believe that you could
defeat Hinata.”
 “Oh, really? So you think you’re stronger than I am?
Well, fine. Let’s go out and settle this for—”
“We will settle nothing!” I shouted to distract them.
Diablo might have acted all calm and collected, but I
guess he enjoyed egging people into a fight, too. He was
polite to me, but that didn’t seem to extend to the rest of his
superiors. Pretty brazen for a new guy. And the way he
provoked potential opponents was downright dangerous
with the hyper-impulsive Shion.
“Gwah-ha-ha-ha-ha! So it’s time for me to take action, is
it? Very well! Allow me to just step out for a moment—”
“You’re not going anywhere, Veldora! If she targets us,
we’ll deal with it then, but there’s no need to take a fight to
her right now. Let me just repeat, I don’t want to
antagonize the Western Holy Church!”
I had forgotten Veldora was seated next to me. He was
ready to fly out the door before I stopped him.
Man, all these problem children… They’re growing fast,
but still, education’s so important for them. Come to think
of it, Benimaru and Soei weren’t itching to start fights at all
anymore, and Geld had enough common sense that I could
rely on him. Gabil got carried away a lot, but he still knew
his place, so he never caused me many headaches. Plus, the
way Ranga practically resided in my shadow, ears perked
up for my command—he was almost cute compared to the
others.
 The big issue was with Shion, Diablo, and Veldora. Any
mixture of the three was dangerous. I could feel my
anxieties ramping up. Better be more careful dealing with
them.
“Either way, that’s enough debate about Hinata and the
Church. We may fight them depending on how matters
unfold, but I intend to proceed with caution and watch what
happens!”
So that was settled. But one thing I couldn’t forget was
the presence of someone maneuvering behind the scenes.
Hinata knew about me—she had an “informant,” she said,
but there weren’t many people out there who knew I killed
Shizu. It’d be hard to identify the mole, but it had to be
someone I knew. The Kabal-Elen-Gido trio; Fuze and a few
other Blumundians; and Yuuki. Beyond that, the only ones
who knew all lived in this forest.
But that would mean…
Raphael was busy deriving a list of suspects for me. I
appreciated his logic, but it could be someone, or
something, we had no knowledge of at all. I didn’t want to
work with the wrong impression, and I didn’t want to
suspect anyone without real evidence. Better just lock that
in my mind and keep my eyes open.
What was the point behind having Hinata and me fight
each other anyway?
Was someone hoping I would dispatch her?
Did they want to obstruct me from returning to town?
Or did they want to lure Hinata out into the open?

…Or all of those things.

Seriously, Raphael? Talk about greedy. There were too

many unknowns, and I couldn’t shake the impression that I
was being played like a fiddle. Let’s just be patient for now.
It can wait.
 Getting back on track, I told the assembled group about
how our town was attacked once I escaped Hinata—a wild,
bloody conflict, engineered by a clutch of Farmus
otherworlders. I wanted to do something for the victims, so
I elected to make myself a demon lord…but before I could
continue, Elen made the confession herself.
“And my dad already knows, doesn’t he? Like, that’s the
whole reason you’re here, isn’t it?”
Wow. The way she looked at Erald with those upturned
eyes. Dangerously cute. The poor guy’s like putty in her
hands with that act.
“Elen…” He sighed, resigned. “It doesn’t matter if I know
or not. There’s no need for other nations to know, too…”
I could guess how he felt. This really was Elen’s fault.
What she did went beyond rocking the boat—it totally
ignored the balance in this world. But Erald had guessed
this would happen. “I’m sure,” he had said in our earlier
secret talk, “my daughter Elen will reveal she gave you the
demon lord suggestion. The only way to stop her would be
to drag her back home, and she’d hate me for it. It would
be a terrible plan.”
He might’ve tried sounding like an expert strategist
when he said it, although he sounded more like an idiot to
me. Hard to tell, really. But Erald’s prediction was right, so
maybe the former.
I turned my eyes toward Gazel, a bit conflicted about all
this. Seeing him nod back, I decided to proceed with this
discussion the way we had planned.
“All right. And thanks to that, I used the assembled
Farmus forces as a sacrifice, and one thing led to another,
and I successfully became a demon lord.”

That wrapped up the basic story I had. Now for the real
work.
“So… Right. Everything I just discussed with you is the
truth, but what we’ll announce to the public will be adjusted
somewhat.”
The Tempestians in the audience seemed pretty thrown
by this. To the monsters, brute strength meant everything.
Something like fudging the details for the story we’d give
other nations must’ve seemed pointless to them. But lies
and deceit are what politics are all about, really.
“What is the reason for this?” Benimaru asked for the
group. “And in what way would you change it?”
I was ready for this question. We worked that one out in
advance, too.

The way we’ll do this is that I’ll declare myself to be a

demon lord, but we won’t reveal that I’ve actually
awakened.
This is based on the assumption that other nations have
no idea what actually went on around here. There’s no way
for them to investigate the facts. Every potential eyewitness
is dead, and apart from those of us in the room, only three
humans know the truth. Everybody knew that the king of
Farmus was a greedy tyrant, so it would be easy to frame
our actions as justifiable self-defense.
By our logic, it’d sound far more credible if Farmus lost
following a fully engaged battle, rather than being
annihilated by a single demon lord. We’ll also say that all
those many piles of dead had unwittingly opened up an
awful, dreadful seal. Yes, the blood that they shed as they
lay there seeped its way underground, opening the eyes of
the dragon that stirred below—in other words, resurrecting
Veldora.
Luckily, the champion Yohm, accompanied by me (the
plucky Jura-Tempest Federation leader who’s angling to
become a recognized demon lord), worked together to coax
the dragon to our side, at the cost of many sacrifices.
Quelling the beast’s anger, we agreed to worship Veldora as
our guardian. Setting things up this way would establish my
claim to the demon lord name and neatly pin all the blame
on Farmus while establishing us as the good guys.
“Think about it,” Gazel commented. “People fear what
they do not understand; they will never willfully accept it. A
monster who singlehandedly destroyed an army of twenty
thousand will find no one willing to believe his claims about
peace and friendship.”
Fuze and Yohm seemed to understand, as much as they
groaned about it. And these guys were two of my closest
confidants. Someone who didn’t know me? They’d react just
like Gazel said they would. I could wind up at war with all
the Western Nations the next day.
“But,” he continued, “if we claim the Storm Dragon is
behind the twenty thousand missing soldiers, that would be
easier for the masses to grasp. The Storm Dragon is already
a living catastrophe, after all, a mastermind of all types of
destruction.”
This seemed to convince the crowd. Only Veldora stayed
in his seat, snickering “Heh-heh-heh, call me a mastermind,
will you? You are a smart man, indeed” and completely
missing the point. Well, if he’s happy, I’m happy.
“I support this plan of action as well,” Erald said.
“Stating that my daughter helped Sir Rimuru become a
demon lord would inspire nothing but fear and disdain.
Much better for him to have been able to negotiate
successfully with the Storm Dragon because he became a
demon lord. He’ll be much more appreciated that way, I
think you’ll find.”
He smiled, his eyes looming over the meeting hall in
search of dissent. I swear, he’s the kind of guy who would
do anything for Elen.
“Oh, Dad… That’s exactly the kind of nefarious scheme I
would’ve expected from a noble as crafty as you…”
 I couldn’t tell if Elen was praising him or making fun of
him, really. It made me feel bad for Erald a bit, as I waited
for the audience to quiet down.
“And that’s not the only advantage for me,” I said. “It’s
important that the human race doesn’t needlessly fear us,
but this might also fool the other demon lords eyeing me
into thinking that Veldora’s the only threat, right?”
And that would give me some breathing room to work
with.
After I thrashed Farmus, the demon lord Clayman must
be on the lookout for me, at least. If we spread the rumor
that it was actually Veldora providing the big guns, I think
that’d make me less of a worry to him. Gazel, king of an
allied nation, wanted to have Dwargon come out of this
looking good. Me, I wanted the Western Nations to think
nicely of me, while making anyone hostile to me
underestimate my abilities and put their guards down a
little. For now, it was much more helpful if they thought I
was a whiny pushover than someone worth fearing.
“Besides, if word gets out that we’ve got the authority to
negotiate with Veldora, that’s gonna keep a lot of nations
from messin’ with us, don’t you think? No matter what the
Western Holy Church says, I think there’s a good chance
they’ll have trouble finding anyone to carry out their
orders.”
That might be the biggest advantage of all. Even before
Gazel’s suggestion, we needed to reveal Veldora’s presence
sooner or later—and if we did, we might as well do it when
he’s at his most useful. We were planning to tango with
Clayman soon, so deliberately antagonizing the Church
right now was nothing short of idiotic. Waging a two-front
war would just spread us out too thin; we had to avoid that
as best we could.
The trick here was to keep our foes as unworried about
me as possible but as worried about Tempest as we could
manage. I tell you, Raphael made some choice edits to what
was already a killer scheme from Gazel. Sensing his, my,
and Erald’s motivations, he weaved them all together to get
the most use out of them in this plan. Amazing work. Ever
since that ultimate-skill evolution, his mind’s been sharper
than ever before.
“I see,” Veldora said, nodding his satisfaction. “So now
you have a reason to take care of me, then?”
Oh, great. He only listened to the parts of this story he
liked, didn’t he? That wasn’t quite what I meant…but ah
well.
Apart from him, the rest of my government seemed to
enjoy the idea. “I understand the merits of this,” Rigurd
said, looking a tad relieved as he vigorously nodded. “In this
case, we can continue negotiating in much the same way we
have before.”
That must have been a worry for him; how this would
affect future trade with other nations. He was developing a
keen eye for Tempest’s economic development that I
appreciated.
“Brilliantly done, Sir Rimuru! A truly ingenious plan!”
“No, Shion,” I admonished, relieved that at least she
understood the gist of it. “King Gazel thought it up. I just
made sure all our feedback was included.”
“My thanks to you, King Gazel,” Sufia commented, baring
a fanged grin. “Now when we make our move, we can
expect great things from Sir Rimuru’s forces!”
Phobio and Alvis seemed just as eager for the idea. The
Three Lycanthropeers were on our side.
Benimaru’s mind, meanwhile, was already elsewhere.
“Heh-heh-heh… Very well. So now we can focus entirely on
Clayman? If we can’t win this, it will just prove we were
talentless from the start.”
Good to hear. I’d need him on the field. Soei, Geld, and
Benimaru were of a similar mind, ready to roll out this very
moment.
Now I had dozens of passion-filled eyes fixed upon me. I
nodded back at them. I need you to wait a bit longer, guys.
You can go hog wild once this summit is over.

We had a backstory—and now that we had somewhere to

start, we needed to decide what we’d do next.
I told the audience about how we had the king of Farmus
and a Church archbishop in our custody. In their place, we
would support Yohm as the land’s new king and launch a
plan to build a new nation for its people.
Now Fuze was groaning again. After falling silent for a
while, I guess he had finally worked everything out in his
mind.
Gazel was similarly quiet, eyes closed. His friends were
bouncing ideas off one another, but opinions seemed to be
split, without any clear consensus. Even Erald offered no
words, no doubt coldly considering how the Sorcerous
Dynasty should react to this.
I watched them all closely as I continued my guidance.

First off, we would release the current king, then force

him to pay reparations for invading our country. This would
be a pretext, of course; the actual aim was to throw Farmus
itself into a state of civil war. If the king managed to gather
his nobility again and attempt a resistance, his life was as
good as gone. I was dealing with a king here. I wasn’t about
to let him off the hook twice.
Now, if this king meekly agreed to our demands at this
point, we’d delay the whole Yohm-as-king thing for a while.
By Raphael’s estimation, however, the chances of this were
practically nil. Even if he suddenly became a king who lived
up to his promises, fulfilling his obligations would be
punishingly difficult. His nation had just lost twenty
thousand men and women of working age, and he needed
money to rebuild his power. He’d be forced to claim it from
the nation’s noble families, but they were all far too greedy
to cooperate.
No, the king would find some excuse or another to ignore
the reparations entirely. Then Yohm would raise the flag of
resistance, staging a coup to help restore good faith in the
government. It was the duty of the survivors to take
responsibility for a lost war. What if the king didn’t do that?
What if he ordered his government to de facto shake down
the nobility for money instead? He’d lose any authority he
had.
The whole reparations thing was a wedge to rip the king
apart from the nobility. Once he had lost all influence with
them, the internal factions of their government would
undoubtedly fall apart. The king’s sons were not of adult
age yet, reportedly; it was easy to imagine them becoming
puppets of the nobility. That, in turn, would certainly lead
into battles over succession.
Either way, whenever things descended into physical
combat, Yohm would step forward, and the exhausted
masses would hail him as their champion. No matter which
way it shook out, it all meant that the current kingdom of
Farmus was about to meet its downfall. Tempest, of course,
would announce its support for Yohm, a champion they had
been on good terms with for a while now. Once Yohm
declared the establishment of a new kingdom, we would be
the first to officially recognize it and open sanctioned
relations.
The nobility, the source of current ruling power, would no
doubt form an alliance to fight back, but we’d already
factored that into the equation. We’d simply exile them all,
except for those who offered to cooperate from an early
stage. If they insisted upon meddling with us, then they’d
have to just disappear, sadly. We would serve as a deterrent
to any such alliance, preventing any direct military activity
while we sorted out who was friend and who was foe.
In the midst of this, we would take the time to announce
new policies that would win the trust of the people,
boosting Yohm’s popularity. Once this happened, the plan
was to destroy the opposing forces.
A nation couldn’t be built overnight. Even at breakneck
speed, it’d have to extend to two, maybe three years. Of
course, Yohm might be on the throne even quicker than
that, if the current king made some particularly ill-advised
decisions…

That was the basic outline. It meant that, however the

timeline wound up actually working out, Yohm was
ultimately all but guaranteed to become king.
“Personally,” I explained, “I have no interest in
oppressing the people of Farmus. In terms of allowing their
own ruler to go around like he owned the whole world,
however, I’m not absolving them of guilt. They will have to
put up with some tight times for a while, and I’d like them
to put in a solid effort at rebuilding once it’s all said and
done.”
Everyone thought silently for a moment before Gazel
spoke up. “I like this. I have no objections to the plan itself.
However, Rimuru, the idea of Yohm becoming king is
another issue altogether.”
He stood up, putting the full force of his gaze upon Yohm.
It was powerfully withering, even from far away. Having
experienced it myself, I knew exactly how the man was
feeling right then.
“…Ngh?!”
Yohm let out a grunt and clenched his teeth in the
process, but he met Gazel eye to eye.
“Hmph. Well, he has great willpower, at least. But what
of his character? Is he prepared to feel for his people, to
take up their pain and stand before them?”
 A hush fell upon the meeting hall.
“Heh. How the hell should I know? I’m not here to be a
king ’cause I want to. But if I turn down this role after he’s
put his full trust in me, what kinda man would I be, huh?!”
“Hmm?”
“I’m just sayin’, I don’t wanna convince myself I can’t do
it and give up before I even try. I also wanna impress the
woman I love, too, I’ll grant ya that, but if I’m going in, I’m
going in at full power.”
There was no waver to Yohm’s voice. He was speaking a
heap of nonsense, but his determination made it all oddly
convincing.
“…Fool,” Mjurran whispered.
“But so much like Yohm, eh?” the beastman Gruecith
replied, grinning. “You have my word on this, Dwarven
King. This guy’s an idiot, but he’s not an irresponsible idiot.
Once he takes something on, he’ll carry it out all the way to
the end. And I, Gruecith, promise I’ll be there with him the
whole time!”
Mjurran nodded her agreement as all three sized up
Gazel.
“…Is that the case? Very well, then. If you need anything,
call upon me.”
Like a light switch, Gazel turned off all his intimidation,
nodding at them good-naturedly. I guess they all passed his
final exam—and if they have the Armed Nation of Dwargon
backing them up, that was huge.
“I have to say, though, you found quite an interesting
man here,” the king added with a smile.
“He seeks the throne to impress a woman?” a shocked
Erald stammered.
“Nice going, Gruecith. I sure wasn’t expecting you to
stand up here and abandon Lord Carillon in front of us all!”
chided Phobio.
It felt like a circus, really.
“Yohm,” intoned Gazel once everyone was done laughing,
“what we seek from your nation is agricultural production. I
don’t want to meddle in your political affairs, but listen to
this: I know Farmus can keep itself afloat through its black-
market trade in my nation’s manufactured goods, but I
think we’ve recently proven that this won’t last forever,
hmm?”
It was true. The exorbitant taxes Farmus placed on
imported goods before reselling them had made it into one
of the world’s most notorious price-gouging outfits. They
were not exactly one of the Dwarven Kingdom’s favored
customers. Now, with a new highway linking Dwargon to a
vast, fresh market, Farmus was losing its previous
advantage. If the kingdom wanted to survive, it needed to
have something new—and instead of a field where it’d be
competing with other nations, it’d be easier to coexist if
they blazed a trail into unexplored markets.
I had heard before that the Dwarven Kingdom faced
issues with self-sufficiency in their food supply, so I could
easily tell what Gazel was hinting at. I was just thinking that
I wanted a new import supplier of grain for our nation,
something that wasn’t so dependent on what naturally grew
in the forest. In short, the idea made sense.
“I’d like to be in on this, too. Add new grain varieties for
us to your list!”
“Who woulda guessed you’d jump on the train, too, huh,
pal? …Well, I’ll get on it. We’re pretty developed
agriculturally over in Farmus. I think it’ll be easier for folks
to accept than you’d think.”
Thus, with Gazel and me sharing common goals, we
made a preliminary agricultural agreement for whenever
Yohm was crowned.

We agreed to take a break at this point while Shuna

passed out tea to everyone. Once we were done, I dove
right back in to the summit, reenergized. With Yohm
formally accepted by the summit, our mission to build a new
Farmus was now under way. That was really the trickiest
part of this whole meet; the rest was much smoother
sailing.
“So as a representative of Blumund,” Fuze stated, “I
have a proposal. Listening to King Gazel and Sir Rimuru
speak, I believe we might have something to offer this plan
as well. In Farmus, there are two noblemen—the Marquis of
Muller and Count Hellman—who share an intimate
relationship with Blumund. If we could negotiate with them
to join our side on this matter, I think they could do much
for our cause, don’t you think? I believe they will provide
staunch support when it is time for Yohm to take action.”
Whether he’s a Guild branch leader or not, does Fuze
really have that kind of power? Fuze, perhaps sensing my
disbelief, gave me an awkward grin.
“As I stated, I represent Blumund here, and you may
consider me to be a part of the Blumund government. I
make this proposal not as a guild master but as a public
servant.”
As he explained, Fuze apparently had a seat in
Blumund’s intelligence department—not as a member of
staff but as kind of an assistant supervisor to the whole
outfit. Which was fine and all, but this was kind of a huge
offer he was making, wasn’t he? Could he really decide on
this solo?
I asked him about this, and then he gave me an even
more startling revelation. While I was meeting with Gazel
and Erald earlier, he had already tipped off the king of
Blumund about events here and had him draw up a
document providing him full representational rights. That’s
the kind of quick footwork I suppose I should expect from a
tiny kingdom like that—not to mention a sign of just how
much Fuze was trusted.
As he put it, Fuze had “several pieces of info that would
sink the whole kingdom if they were released.” Secretly, I
considered making him tell me somehow. I couldn’t help it.

So Fuze had been taking advantage of his position to

divert all kinds of information his way—anything he thought
might be necessary, even before he heard about our plans.
The way he described it, the Marquis of Muller and
Count Hellman could basically enjoy the Blumund king’s
personal support. Being a powerful noble in Farmus, the
marquis was in no position to offer any public kindness to
Blumund, but he and their king were close friends behind
closed doors. Muller, in fact, was distantly related to the
Blumundian royal family, and they had gotten along well for
many years. Count Hellman, meanwhile, owed a great debt
of gratitude to the marquis, making it extremely unlikely he
would betray him.
“Wow, you sure you want to reveal all these secrets to
us?”
“Ha-ha-ha! Oh, it’s fine. I am sure the Dwarven King was
well aware of it all before I came here. The dark agents of
Dwargon are just as talented in their jobs as our own
intelligence group.”
As neighbor states, Fuze must have figured the dwarves
would have known a thing or two about them already. Gazel
simply twitched one of his shoulders upward a bit, offering
no further reply. Henrietta, the beautiful night assassin
poised behind him, blinked a bit as well. Soei praised her as
a talented agent, and I could believe it.
“Hoh-hoh-hoh! Oh, you are being too humble,” she said.
“The kingdom of Blumund’s bread and butter lies in
intelligence. If you are posted in the center of a spy agency
for a nation that treats information as salable goods, I’m
sure you must be far more talented than my own team, no?”
The voice was friendly enough, but her expression
indicated she didn’t actually believe what she was saying.
“Ha-ha! No need to be so harsh on yourself. Our fighting
forces would have nothing on your dark agents, I don’t
think! In terms of intelligence gathering, of course, I do
believe we enjoy some useful advantages.”
Fuze was just as headstrong, it seemed. But Blumund’s
small size allowed it to cover intel from every nation in the
world, no doubt. That was the most powerful weapon it had
to defend its borders with. But regardless, if Fuze said it, it
had to be true. Those two Farmus nobles definitely need to
be recruited—and fast.
“Did you hear all that, Yohm?”
“Yep. I’ll add it to the list.”
We’d sell Yohm to them first. He’d enjoy a true
champion’s welcome, and it’d be an epic event. But we
could work out the details at another time. Yohm’s team
could handle that at their leisure.

“Great! So that’s how Yohm the champion will gain a

country of his own soon.”
Everyone murmured their agreement, Yohm bringing a
hand to his head in bashful embarrassment. I’ll pretend I
didn’t see that and declare this topic well and truly settled.
Next up—
Just as I was about to proceed to the next topic, Erald
apparently finished processing our discussion and burst out
into hysterical laughter.
“Pff! Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha! This is so entertaining! The leaders
and representatives of entire nations, expressing their
minds freely without doubting one another for a moment… I
feel almost like a fool for staying on the alert around you
all!”
He couldn’t help but chuckle at the ridiculousness of it
all, even though the light remained sharp in his eyes. This
was absolutely the face of a high nobleman, not Erald the
helplessly devoted father. Archduke Erald of Thalion, a man
whose position made speaking his mind virtually impossible.
Without warning, he stood up, overwhelming the air
around him. The sudden change in atmosphere turned all
eyes silently toward him. We nervously awaited whatever he
might say next.

The meeting hall was silent, save for the turning of the
pages as Veldora read some manga… Whoa! What the hell,
man?! I didn’t even give that to you yet! Where’d you pluck
that out from?! …Ah well. He had no interest in listening to
anyone here anyway. As long as he’s shutting up, I have no
complaints. He certainly helped relieve my tension just now.
Let’s just see what Erald has to say.

The archduke cleared his throat to return the attention

to himself, then solemnly opened his mouth. That’s
resilience, there.
“…Allow me to ask. The man over there… Fuze. Do you
truly place your trust in this monster, Rimuru?”
“That… How do you mean, sir?”
“I mean, even if a bunch of monsters decide to go and
start a country, did you have to officially recognize them?
And was there any need to establish official trade relations,
for that matter? In terms of your relative locations, you
certainly could have acted with less haste.”
“We…”
It seemed like an honest question, not one hurled out of
spite. That was why Fuze found himself without words,
having trouble finding his reply.
“What I am saying is this. If I were in your position, I
would engage them in trade, yes, but I would also see how
the Western Holy Church reacted. Give them confidential
reports, you see, and leave matters to them if there are any
problems. That way, you enjoy all the profit, but you aren’t
beholden entirely to one side should issues crop up later.
Isn’t that the way any smaller nation should handle
matters?”
The words, and his gaze, were sharper than any sword.
And Erald wasn’t the only one—it seemed like everyone’s
eyes were upon Fuze now.
“Ugh, why me?” he whispered to himself, and then: “All
right! All right! In that case, allow me to be honest!”
Resigned to his fate, Fuze tore at his hair and began
speaking loudly. His usual brazen personality was back—he
was facing the Archduke of Thalion, and he had had enough
of all this formal, ceremonial speech.
“Duke Erald, I was of the exact same opinion as you. I
stated the same case to my superior as well, not to mention
a nobleman friend. But I was brushed off…”
As Fuze went on to explain, when he tried to convince his
boss of this, his concerns were immediately dismissed. The
reasoning: “What if Tempest decides to declare war on us?”
This was before I visited Blumund but after the battle with
Charybdis ended.
To them, we were this nation packed with high-level
magic-born, powerful enough to take out both Charybdis
and an orc lord. Waging war with them, Fuze was told,
would result in instant annihilation. Luminism was not
widespread in Blumund; the Western Holy Church would
provide little serious backup. Any unwise moves, and the
country would cease to exist. Resistance, they concluded,
was futile.
—So what to do, then?
“We’d earn their trust, build a mutual friendship, and
find a way to coexist. We wouldn’t be afraid to cooperate
with them as much as possible. That was the conclusion the
highest levels of Blumund government made. And I mean,
your nation and the Dwarven Kingdom are powerful
enough that you have all kinds of choices available…but
with us, one misstep, and it’s over. And if we’re wagering
our fates here, better to trust in the monster lord than the
Church. That’s basically it,” Fuze explained with some
chagrin.
Thinking about it, having his exact thoughts pointed out
to him made me feel kind of sorry for Fuze. It was basically
admitting that the kingdom of Blumund was too puny to
take up Erald’s common-sense suggestion. Not that it was
wrong, but…still, good or bad, right or wrong; that wasn’t
important. They had decided to fully trust me.
It was beyond reckless… Or was it, really? If it blew up in
their face, that was it, but they had concluded that there
was no other way for them to survive. I was as powerful as
an entire army; no wonder they saw me as a threat. Better
to fight with us, not against us. For a small nation dealing in
intelligence and living in the shadows of superpowers,
maybe that was an effective strategy. Definitely reckless,
but in a way, effective, maybe. Effective against me anyway.
Regardless, I was sure I could trust in Blumund as well—
and Erald must have come to the same conclusion.
“…Still, that is quite the brash decision. And if I could
change the subject for a moment, I understand you came
here to provide military assistance to Sir Rimuru? Was that
the decision of your, ah, superior as well?”
“Exactly. We’ve ratified a common security agreement,
and I’ve been ordered to follow it to the letter. Of course,
even if the government broke its promise, I would have
come here anyway. I’m a free man, I’ll have you know. The
Guild is unaffiliated with any nation by design—normally,
you see, it’d be crazy for someone like me to be here. You
could say my luck ran out the moment I was appointed to
Blumund’s intelligence team…”
He sounded like he had no idea why he took the job in
the first place. Almost too honest of him, not that he could
do much about it now. I had no idea his king was so
dedicated to keeping his word, though. Complying with that
agreement and bracing themselves for war with Farmus…
And here I thought that treaty didn’t earn us much of
anything. Now, I was glad for it. I had real insight into how
they thought of us at present.
Sticking to promises lies at the core of any human
relationship. That applies to nations as well; any nation that
doesn’t follow its promises, or treaties, can’t really be
trusted. This whole incident had proved to me that
Blumund is eminently trustworthy. They risked their necks
because they believed we would win, not that even they
thought I’d wipe out the enemy by myself.
“Can I guess who this superior is? He sounds like quite
the gambling man.”
Fuze nodded, seemingly fighting back tears of frustration
as he smiled. “…As you’ve probably surmised, it is His
Majesty the King.”
You know, he did seem like a pretty nice guy when I met
him. Guess he’s more of an expert at this whole nation-
leading thing than I thought. You need the guts to go all in
when you’re running a country, sometimes.
“…So,” he continued with a sigh, “that’s what was going
on, and his choice wound up being the right one. Never in
my life would I have imagined you defeating a force of
twenty thousand, Sir Rimuru. And resurrecting the Storm
Dragon? It’s no longer a question of trust at all, I’d say. And
that document giving me negotiation rights here? I think
the higher-ups may’ve set a new record drawing it up.”
It was like he was the sole bulwark keeping his homeland
from collapsing. I could understand why he was a tad
overwrought.
“…Ah. I see now.” The tension disappeared from Erald’s
face as he lowered his head a bit toward Fuze. “I apologize,
Sir Fuze. Thanks to you, however, I fully understand the
kingdom of Blumund’s intentions, here.”
“Sly as always, aren’t you, Erald?” interjected Gazel.
“You know I trust Rimuru. There’s no need to go feeling out
other nations to satisfy your doubts.”
 “You may say that, Gazel, but it’s not going to be that
easy for us to forge a new pact with a nation of monsters. I
have a new, and healthy, respect for the king of Blumund.”
“Ha. Enough of that rot. You came here because you had
the decision made beforehand, did you not? So what is your
conclusion, master strategist Erald?”
Erald reacted stonily to Gazel’s provocation—not
because he was relatively safe in his homunculus, but
because he really did just have that much nerve.
“You could say I have…made my own conclusions, yes.
But before I answer you, can I ask one more question?”
He turned to me next—
“Dad, come onnnnn! Stop acting all stuck-up and just
answer!”
“Whoa! Hey, lady, pipe down!”
“Yeah! The archduke’s trying his hardest to look all cool
for you, okay?!”
The tension in the air was thoroughly ruined by Elen and
her two cohorts. “So much for the master strategist,”
mused Gazel.
I felt a little bad for Erald, so I decided to bring some
solemnity to the environment. Meaning I unleashed a bit of
Lord’s Ambition.
“…Let me hear it, Erald.”
I could hear my government stir in their seats, even as
Gazel and his friends groaned in astonishment, and Yohm,
Fuze, and the Eurazania contingent began sweating. I set it
to run as long as possible, but it was even fiercer than I
gave it credit for. This was, after all, the merger of skills like
Coercion and Magic Aura, something I could use as an
attack. Misuse would be dangerous.
Still, I thought I had gotten pretty good at acting all
kingly like this. The trick was to erase all expression from
your face as you spoke. Hiding your emotions and taking a
dispassionate tone was enough to freak your audience out,
really. Between Shizu’s good looks and the wispy,
transparent feel of a slime, the mix gave me this perfect
sort of mystique. Add Lord’s Ambition to the picture, and it
was perfect. I didn’t need anything else. If I let my emotions
bubble to the surface and started acting more like myself,
that mystique vanished in short order. You had to train at
this, really, so as a former middle-class schmo, I think I was
doing pretty well.
Either way, it was enough to take in Erald.
“…Heh. Impressive. In that case, Demon Lord Rimuru, let
me ask you: How do you intend to wield your powers as
demon lord?”
Oh. That? Simple. I wanted to create a world that’s easy
to live in, the way I picture it. A bountiful world where
people could be as content as possible. No bluffing, no
dodging it; that’s what I really thought. So that’s what I told
him.
“…That kind of thing, I guess. And I’m sure I’ll have some
stumbles along the way. It’s not going to be that easy, I
imagine.”
“You—you seriously believe you can build that kind of
fantasy world?!”
Oops. That sounds like real surprise, there. I’ve
successfully managed to shock a high noble who almost
never reveals his emotions.
“Well, you know, that’s what my power is for. Ideals are
just a bunch of raving without power to back them up, and
power is just kind of a vacant void without ideals to back it
up, isn’t it? And I know I’m pretty greedy, but I’m not into
seeking pure power for power’s sake with no other
particular goals in mind.”
I was rephrasing a famous line or two in my mind, and I
think I managed to get my point across. I mean, doesn’t this
go without saying? You work at something because you
want to accomplish something. That’s the essence of
humanity, I think.
“Ha, ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Hilarious! That is
hilarious, Demon Lord Rimuru! A demon lord versed in the
concept of karma! I think I understand why you managed to
awaken yourself now!”
I didn’t stop him from laughing at me. Let him have his
fun. And once he settled down, he stood up and kneeled
before me.
“My pardons. Demon Lord Rimuru, as the envoy of the
Sorcerous Dynasty of Thalion, I hereby request the
establishment of formal relations with your nation, the Jura-
Tempest Federation. I hope to hear a positive reply from
you…”
The hall fell quiet again…except for that page flipping.
Better not let that bother me. If I turned toward him right
now, it’d ruin the entire atmosphere. The sight of a Storm
Dragon lying on a bench, reading manga while sipping
some iced tea he had someone make for him, would just
scramble my brain.
“…I was hoping we could build a positive relationship
myself. I will gladly accept the offer.”
Cheers erupted, and everyone leaped out of their seats
to celebrate this memorable new bond.
Today, we welcomed another faithful ally.

So we now had the beginnings of diplomatic relations

with Thalion, our third human nation. Soon, Farmus would
be no more, and Yohm would be at the helm of a new
nation. Slowly but surely, the map was being redrawn.
Things were moving, and accelerating, faster than I had
pictured at first.
 CHAPTER 2

WORD FROM RAMIRIS

Just as the summit was winding down, and I felt it was time
to wrap things up:
Bwaaam!!
The doors flew open as someone stormed in.
“I heard all that! Tempest shall fall to ruin!!”
There was a tiny winged girl—and while it was hard to
believe from looks, it was Ramiris of the Labyrinth, one of
the world’s ten demon lords.

I wasn’t exactly sure how to take this. Should I open my

eyes wide and go “Wha-what was that?!”? I didn’t have
much time to react, because Ramiris was flying straight for
me, while Beretta was kindly closing the front door behind
her. Long-suffering is the way I’d describe that demon’s
body language, and I bet I was right. Getting bossed around
by Ramiris all day would do that to anyone.
Now Diablo was standing in front of her, dressed to the
nines in his butler-y outfit. He had been stationed behind
me, quietly listening to the proceedings, but he wasn’t
willing to let this interloper barge in. And really, he made
capturing Ramiris look as easy as grabbing a dragonfly out
of the air.
“H-hey!” she shouted, flailing around. “What’re you
doing to me?!” I just love her. She doesn’t act the part of a
demon lord one bit, and it’s just adorable.
 “Sir Rimuru,” Diablo said, walking back to me, “I have
captured an intruder. What should we do with her? She
raved about this town falling to ruin, but how should we
address this insolence?”
I looked at Ramiris. She was batting her wings helplessly,
trying to escape Diablo’s grasp. “Gehhh! I’m using my full
magic force, and I still can’t escape him?! This, this can’t be
any kind of regular bodyguard! Who are you? What did I
ever do to you?!”
She never was very quiet. And no offense, but given the
incomparable difference in power, I didn’t think Diablo
would lose her anytime soon. And this was a demon lord?
See, this is why I sometimes wonder if being a demon lord
is anything special at all.
“Do you know this fairy, Sir Rimuru?” Fuze asked. Oh,
right, we were in the middle of a summit. Right toward the
end, in fact. If she had only come in a couple minutes later…
She never was good at taking social cues like that, either.
“Yeah, I do. This is Ramiris, and she might not show it,
but I guess she’s a demon lord, too?”
“Hey! What d’you mean, I don’t show it?! I am feared as
the strongest out of all ten demon lords, I’ll have you
know!”
She flashed me the most arrogant smile possible, still
stuck in Diablo’s grasp and oblivious to how nonthreatening
she looked. The audience was nonplussed, a few giving
comments like “Huh? A demon lord…?” and “Someone like
that?”
“…What? Like, whaaaat? Come on, what’s your problem?
You’re supposed to act more surprised! I’m kind of a demon
lord, guys! Ramiris of the Labyrinth, in the flesh, all right?!
Why is everyone acting so uninterested?”
I mean, demon lord or not, you’re kind of caught
between two fingers right now. If I had to guess, everyone
thinks you must be some kind of poseur, you know? I’m too
kind to actually voice this, of course, but…
 “…Well, as a demon lord himself, it’s only fair that Sir
Rimuru would be acquainted with other demon lords, I
suppose…”
“If anything, the Storm Dragon’s resurrection was such a
shock, I don’t think anything could surprise me at this
point…”
Our audience was nodding at one another. I suppose that
makes sense, actually.
Ramiris, on the other hand, was less than satisfied with
that.
“Huh? The Storm Dragon? Veldora’s been revived? You
guys are being tricked! I beat Veldora into the ground with
a single punch! That guy was all roar and no bite. Besides,
his era’s over now. If you want someone to fear, you can
start being horrified around my presence today!”
She punctuated this with a high, haughty laugh. If
anything, she had an even bigger mouth than Veldora. I had
Diablo hand her over to me and took her to see him.
“Veldora, you mind entertaining this girl for me? She’s a
demon lord, too, more or less, so maybe she’ll wanna be
friends with you.”
“Mm? I am busy unraveling a grand riddle at the
moment.”
I didn’t have time for his sulking.
“Oh, that manga? The murderer was [REDACTED].
You’re good now, right? Thanks.”
With that bout of mercilessness, I returned to my seat.
Veldora looked shocked, eyes wide open. Maybe it wasn’t
the nicest thing to do, but we’re in the middle of a summit. I
wanted him to think about his actions a little, not let him do
whatever he wants.
Besides, the sight of Veldora had already made Ramiris
faint on the spot. Two problem children taken care of in one
stroke.
So wrapping up, I wanted to go over everything we had to
do.
“Benimaru, our next target is Clayman. I want him taken
down!”
“Just what I’ve been waiting to hear!” Benimaru gave me
a fearless smile, flames dancing eerily in his eyes. The rest
of the Tempestians in the audience were similarly elated; I
guess they’d all become would-be warriors over time. Didn’t
they all just have a huge battle in town a few days ago? Ah
well. High morale’s never a bad thing.
“As for the Three Lycanthropeers and the beastmen
under them…”
“No need to say it,” Alvis growled. “We are under your
command, Sir Rimuru.” Phobio and Sufia seemed just as
enthused. I shouldn’t have bothered asking.
“And you think you can beat him with this team,
Rimuru?”
“I will. He’s riled me.”
“I see…” Gazel gave me a wry grin. “I will trust you in
your word, then.” And in a smaller voice that I figured only I
could hear: “Here I thought you were my junior training
partner. You’ve grown far too much…”
“But I do not believe you can afford to think lightly of
Clayman,” observed a concerned Erald. “He holds sway
over a vast army of magic-born, and rumors tell of close
connections with the Eastern Empire…”
“That doesn’t matter. War is about quality, not quantity!”
“Heavens, I think I can hear my common sense collapsing
as we speak…”
It was, indeed, totally lacking in common sense, but it
was enough to quiet him. I could tell he was interested in
what I had now. I knew it was crazy, too, but I also knew I
was right. The larger army usually wins the battle, but that
didn’t apply to this world. The orc lord was a good example
of that. As long as you can decapitate the leader, it was
always the more adept fighters that dictated the results.
Besides, this time, we didn’t lose out in numbers, either. I
had cut it out from the summit for brevity, but Soei had
already briefed me on Clayman’s movements. Soei was still
pinning down an exact number, but they were moving
sluggishly and still stuck inside Milim’s domain. His
Replication would be back here soon, though, and I could
save my final decision for then.
That strategic meeting could come later, but for now, we
needed to make sure we had the script down for
conquering Farmus. We’d release the king, then have the
Marquis of Muller and Count Hellman pursue his blame,
beseeching him to take responsibility for his failure.
Depending on how he reacted, Yohm would then spring into
action.
“Regarding any actual war with them, that will be our
issue to tackle. For now, I want all of you to trust in me and
leave Farmus for us to worry about. It shouldn’t be long
before I’ll ask you to help us make Yohm into the champion
king of a new generation.”
The audience nodded their approval. When it came to
human affairs, we’d make a lot fewer mistakes relying on
them instead of trying to go it alone. I was looking forward
to their support.
“Now, Fuze, I want you to contact Muller and Hellman
confidentially.”
“Sure thing,” he replied.
Again, we’d likely work out the details in a later meeting,
but we had a plan of action now. First, we’d portray things
so it was Yohm and his forces reclaiming the king from us.
We’d then have the Marquis of Muller put the king under
his protection, providing backup for Yohm the whole way.
And about those three POWs, actually:
“By the way, Shion, how are those three dealing with
your questioning? Did they give us anything useful?”
I had forgotten about that—it didn’t really matter, in the
grand scheme of things—but I had left our prisoners in the
care of Shion this whole time.
“Heh-heh-heh… Of course they did, Sir Rimuru!”
Ooh. Somebody sure is confident. I had a bad feeling
about that. I turned toward Yohm and Mjurran, who were
supposed to be present during all the questioning. They
awkwardly turned their eyes away.
“Um,” Yohm began. “Yeah, um, questioning?
Interrogation? Either way, they talked a lot, pal.”
“That they did,” agreed Mjurran. “But that was no
questioning. It was something surreal. I’m not sure you
could even call it interrogation.”
I really don’t want to hear anything else, thanks. Shion
overdid it, no doubt about it—but then, I let her. It’d be
unreasonable for me to complain about it, and I had no
intention to. Even if I wanted to stop her violent rage, I
guess I was cooped up in the cave and beyond contact
range anyway. In a way, it’s my fault for not being there.
Let’s just assume I never noticed.
Sorry, people of Farmus. But then again, you guys struck
first. Hopefully, you’ll consider yourselves lucky for
surviving at all.
Either way, we had three prisoners in custody, and
following Shion’s interro—um, questioning, they seemed
fairly willing to talk.
“First off,” Shion began, “Ed, Ednoyol? Ed…”
“…King Edmaris?” whispered Shuna into her ear. Thanks
for that. But really, Shion? You couldn’t even come up with
the king’s name? I know it’s kind of a weird one, but…
“King Edmaris had apparently made contact with a
merchant, one who brought him silken fabrics from our
nation and whetted his appetite for conquest. The king also
feared that trade would drift over to our nation in the
future, which also led to those moves on his part…”
 Shion’s rundown continued, the content of which didn’t
surprise me much. The only thing it made me wonder about
was whether that merchant deliberately spurred Edmaris
to action.
“Do we know who this merchant is? Some black-market
dealer?”
“I apologize, my lord. That much we do not know.”
She looked so sad about it that I felt the need to
hurriedly console her. The question wasn’t that important
anyway. Let’s switch subjects to Archbishop Reyhiem.
“That’s fine. What about the Church?”
“Ah yes! He revealed who was pushing him behind the
scenes. The name was—”
It’s a long one, Shion. You think you got that one
remembered at all?
“…The core of it all was Cardinal Nicolaus Speltus,”
Mjurran said after Shion shot her a pleading look. Shion
was great at extracting information from people, but
anything else? Forget it. She had some kind of mental block
keeping her from remembering proper names. Better give
her some other assignment next time. Good thing Mjurran
was around. I can’t really expect much in the critical-
analysis department from Yohm, either, so she no doubt
provided some handy backup.
According to her, Nicolaus stated that they planned to
take us all down, as a nation clearly against the will of their
god. Planned to anyway.
“I see,” Fuze muttered. “So Archbishop Reyhiem wanted
all the glory of defeating a godless enemy, so he could earn
extra clout with the central authorities?”
Everyone seemed to agree with this.
“Either way, we still have some wiggle room. The
Western Holy Church hasn’t made a definitive decision yet.
Perhaps there’s a way to negotiate ourselves out of being
designated hostile.”
“In that case,” Fuze said, “let me handle that.”
 His approach involved taking advantage of the Council’s
presence. They would release a statement declaring that
the nation of Tempest should be recognized, putting
pressure on the Church to act. Appealing to the Council
would also place the spotlight further on Tempest as a
waypoint along a series of new trade routes. The fact that
monsters lived there was an issue, but they were all both
kind to strangers and fully capable of speech. If anything,
they’d gladly be your friend.
That much, of course, we had already proven. Or really,
we’d made it happen through all this astonishing evolution.
In so many words, our aim was to earn treatment from the
humans similar to what dwarves, elves, and other demi-
human races enjoyed. King Gazel would back us up as well,
keeping up a lively trade relationship with us and
advertising the benefits of Tempest with more energy than
ever.
This, I imagined, would likely not be enough to make the
Western Holy Church abandon their core tenets. But
Dwargon and Blumund already had formal trade relations
with Tempest. Not even the Church had the kind of power
to annul those agreements. And with us having such deep
ties with a small group of human nations like this, other
countries were bound to grow curious soon. Plus, we now
had the Sorcerous Dynasty of Thalion declaring their
allegiance. That put even more pressure on the Church to
settle matters.
“Not that this is for me to say,” Fuze added, “but
recognizing Tempest is a double-edged sword. We all need
to be careful to make sure we don’t accidentally stab
ourselves in the process.”
He was right. Blumund was in the tightest spot out of
them all. Dwargon and Thalion were essentially beyond the
range of Holy Church influence. Both were powerful
enough that they could give the united Western Nations a
run for their money. Blumund, meanwhile, was a blip, all too
susceptible to pressure from outside its borders.
—Except all that was a thing of the past.
“Heh-heh… Fuze, was it? No need to fret. We dwarves
can make runs through Tempest to access your markets as
well. And with the stronger position that will put your
nation in, the Council will find it prudent to tread lightly
with you.”
Gazel’s right, I thought. Two nations, Dwargon and
Thalion, both with different cultures and technical
expertise, were interacting with each other through
Tempest. This town was going to grow exponentially, I was
sure of it—and then, a new culture would bloom. Culture
and technology. The sorcerous science Thalion boasted and
the spirit engineering Dwargon cultivated would connect on
our doorstep, two different families of tech rolled into one.
It could create an industrial revolution straight out of
fantasy, and the kingdom of Blumund would have dibs on
enjoying it first. Even in terms of pure accounting numbers,
the potential profits were enormous.
Meanwhile, the new kingdom of Farmus created by Yohm
would be reborn as a breadbasket to the entire region,
filling the people’s stomachs and planting the seeds for an
entirely new food culture. We’d need to spread the wealth
around, to make sure none of us was competing with
another member of the alliance in each specialty—but I was
planning to attend to that anyway, on the sly. Raphael, Lord
of Wisdom, had calculation skills that went beyond what
even quantum computing could manage. Calculating global
economic effects was no sweat—and at accuracies far
greater than even the Earth Simulator supercomputer in
Japan could manage. That kind of made me sound like the
“man behind the curtain” ruling the world, but I am a
demon lord, so at least it’d be in character.
I could understand Fuze’s concern, too. Blumund was so
tiny, it might wind up being exploited by its bigger
neighbors without any recourse to turn to. That’s why it was
so hard for them turn away from the Council, as friendly as
that alliance was to smaller nations like theirs. Of course
he’s worried.
Maybe, in the short term, it would’ve been better for
them to keep dealing with the Council. Pool all their
intelligence skills together, and Blumund might’ve even
been able to force the Western Holy Church into all-out war
against us. If that was the choice they made when they first
met us, I might’ve been slain by now. But the Blumundians
didn’t opt for that. They trusted me and decided to walk
down the same path.

You do the deed, and then you get rewarded for it.

Blumund had already picked me. I didn’t see any reason

not to take the hint. Living together in harmony was right at
the crux of my ideal, besides.
“Fuze, when you return home, I want you to tell the king
that I have a favor to ask.”
“A favor? Not another painful one, I trust?”
“Kinda rude, wouldn’t you say? It’ll take a while to
explain, and I’ll probably fail to get the point across to you,
so I’ll visit later to go over it in detail with him.”
“Hoh! And I’m the rude one? You make me sound like
some kind of dullard!”
“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean, you know,
do you know much of anything about economics, Fuze?”
“I… All right. I will give word to the king and arrange a
time.”
“Great.” I nodded.
Blumund’s role here would be to keep statistics on the
amount of trade in all the main manufactured goods of the
region. I’d have them examine the products imported and
exported from each nation, then make sure that the
necessary items were shipped to the necessary place. To
put it another way, I would have Blumund become the first
large-scale trading company in the world. Get it right, and
there’d be nothing “small” about this nation any longer.
They’d be a financial superpower, wielding influence
beyond comprehension.
Considering Blumund’s geographical location, I wanted
them to be a trade hub going forward. But that would wait
until everything else wrapped up. I needed to defeat
Clayman. Yohm needed to build a new nation; Fuze and
Blumund needed to use their information access to check
on the movements of the Western Council and Church—
until we won, at least.
My main concern was the Church. I didn’t think they’d
make any sudden moves, but they still needed to be kept in
place. Neither they nor the Holy Empire of Lubelius were
willing to recognize our nation. I wanted to postpone any
conflict for as long as I could, giving us time to prove our
effectiveness and devotion to common harmony. If we had
to fight, I’d like to keep it peaceful…but judging by Hinata’s
reaction to me, that might be tough.
None of these problems would be wiped up that easily.
Everything depended on what we did from here on out.

So about those three prisoners—hmm? There’s King

Edmaris, Archbishop Reyhiem, and…who was the other
guy? Oh, right! The dude who survived my attack. Were we
safe letting him go?
“Shion, we had three POWs, right? The one who survived
all the killing? That guy has to be pretty bad news, right?”
“Huh? Oh, um, yes. That terribly frightened man.”
Frightened? Hmm. Maybe he was just some wimp who
managed to survive through sheer luck.
“Hoh? The final survivor? If I had to guess, perhaps
Folgen, captain of their knights?”
If Gazel knew someone on that force by name, he must’ve
been at least a half-decent military officer. So maybe it’d be
risky to free him? I turned to Diablo.
“What kind of guy was he like? Pretty strong, right? You
think it’d be all right to let him off the hook?”
“No, Sir Rimuru,” he replied, smile still on his face. “He is
a minnow, incapable of being a problem at all. By human
standards, however, he does seem rather well-versed in
magic.”
He’s a magician? Maybe not a knight captain like Folgen,
then.
“Do you know the name, Shion?”
“Yes! It’s Ramen, sir!”
Ramen. Hmm. I haven’t had ramen in years, actually.
Nothing like a steaming cup of instant noodles during an
all-night deadline crunch at work. I miss that. Maybe I’ll try
to fashion some later.
“Ramen?” Fuze asked as I basked in fond memories of
my past life. “Was there someone named that in Farmus?”
“It does not ring a bell,” replied Erald. “And a magician,
you say? I am aware of a magic-born named Razen who
should still live there…”
“Razen the champion? Mm, a man who should never be
omitted from the story.”
“I know that name,” Phobio chimed in. “It is well-known
even within the Beast Kingdom. The guardian of the great
land of Farmus and among the most intelligent of magic-
born!”
“Yeah, I know him, too. A human who’s mastered magic
up to the wizard level and beyond. I’ve always wanted a
chance to challenge him!”
“I’m sure we’d win in close-quarter combat, but he is not
one to trifle with, no…”
All the Lycanthropeers knew him, which surprised me.
There was someone like that still left in Farmus? This
Ramen guy didn’t matter to me, but Razen certainly needed
some attending to.
“You’re sure the man we have is named Ramen, Shion?”
“Y-yes, er… Probably. But he’s just a young man! One of
the people who attacked this town. Certainly not the master
magician you all are talking about!”
She sounded a lot more assertive on the second half of
that statement than the first. But hang on, didn’t Diablo just
describe our prisoner Ramen as a magic-user? Curious, I
decided to get the story from a few more witnesses.
What we knew for sure is that our captive was a young
man, an otherworlder, who had participated in the attack.
Everyone was in agreement on that.
“Diablo, are you making up stories in an attempt to earn
Sir Rimuru’s praise?” Shion goaded him.
“Not at all. I would hardly expect to be heaped with
adulation for having defeated someone of such low caliber. I
simply seek recognition that I have carried out the work
provided by the master I serve.”
That’s true. Diablo wanted me to know he was a good
servant, but he didn’t say anything about his opponent
being tough at all. He was dissing the guy every chance he
had. So…
“…Come to think of it,” Hakuro mused, “when Geld and I
cornered that otherworlder, a fairly powerful magic wielder
interfered. I believe that man was named Razen, actually.
He had prepared a type of nuclear magic he was ready to
unleash at any moment. So we let the otherworlder go,
since this wizard was much more of an imminent threat.”
So it is Razen, not Ramen? Razen, this guy I wanted to
keep an eye on, was involved in the battle after all?

Report. Using certain secret rituals in the realm of

spiritual magic would allow one to leap between physical
bodies.
 Oh, right. That.
“D’you think maybe that Razen guy took over the body of
the younger dude?”
“Wha?!”
Shion was floored. She never seemed all that sure about
our prisoner’s name. I was fairly certain my theory was
correct.
“Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh… And I am sure we will discover
our ward’s true name shortly.”
Diablo pounded the final nail into Shion’s coffin. It almost
drove her to tears.

Our man turned out to be Razen, in the end. Nobody

named Ramen out there after all. All right? So enough
bullying Shion over this. What do you want from her? She’s
Shion. Asking any kind of brainwork out of Shion is a
mistake in the first place.
But:
“You dispatched Razen himself that easily?!”
“I cannot believe it. The champion who supported
Farmus for centuries…”
“He was one of the rare humans who was equal to me as
a wizard. Superior, even…”
All the shocked eyes in the room turned to Diablo. If you
think about it, he is kind of a mystery. Why’s he so keen on
being my servant? He claimed to be willing to work for
free, so I had no real reason to turn him down. The guy
describing this amazing wizard as a “minnow” kind of
confirms how strong he is. And this was before I named
him, too…
And right now, this guy was choosing to lord it over
Shion. She gritted her teeth, no doubt frustrated over how
she brought this fight to him and lost big. Ah well. Nothing
should come of it, as long as Shion doesn’t go and start
acting like they’re bitter rivals. Having both a talented
secretary and a ditzy one on board is going to lead to a lot
of jealousy, I’m sure.
Right! So let’s do this:
“Yohm, I want you to take the three prisoners and do
something with them for me. Diablo, I want you to join him.”
Now Diablo was looking panicked at me. I could see
Shion sneer back at him, but that order wasn’t for her sake.
This was the result of more serious thought. I was just
thinking about who I could have help out Yohm’s team,
assuming I left Veldora to keep the town safe. Someone who
was reasonably intelligent, strong enough to handle
anything that came his way, and could move fast if needed.
Soei would’ve been the best choice, but I needed him on
the battlefield. Benimaru was my general field commander.
Shion was out of the question. Hakuro couldn’t use Shadow
or Spatial Motion, so it’d take time for him to travel
anywhere. Geld and Gabil would stand out too much in
human society.
Meaning Diablo fulfilled all my conditions. He said he’d
lend a hand when it came time to take Farmus down, so I
doubted he’d have any complaints. He’d have no problem
guarding someone as potentially harmful as Razen, either.
“I will leave this to you, Diablo!”
“Ah, I understand, Sir Rimuru!”
He gave me a delighted smile. Something didn’t seem
quite right about it to me, but if he said yes, then no
complaints. Right now, Diablo was probably third in
strength after Veldora and me. No matter what happened,
he’d have it handled in a flash.
“This job might take several years, so I hope you’ll be
patient with it. Contact me with Thought Communication if
anything comes up.”
“Not a problem, sir. I will be happy to handle this mission
well before the allotted time.”
He sure had a lot of confidence. This was an entire nation
I was asking ’em to take down…but again, that’s another
reason I felt safe giving him this assignment. Now, with all
the plans settled, we could end this summit between
nations—and now I could focus my full attention on all-out
war with Clayman without any regrets.

To finish off, I asked if anyone else had something to say.

A hand shot up. It belonged to Erald, who was looking
expectantly at me.
“Yes?” I asked.
Erald had been waiting for this. “Our nation and yours
are separated from each other by extremely treacherous
forests and mountains. If we could connect ourselves
directly through that region, that would allow us to cut the
travel distance by quite a margin. A highway, in particular,
would make the trek far easier…”
He shot me a glance. Ah-ha. I knew what he was getting
at. If we were gonna be building a formal relationship with
Thalion, of course we’d want a direct link between us. We’d
have to do that, of course. Products that used to require
long detours to deliver would naturally be more attractive
once we had a better road. That was a part of my plan from
the start.
Of course, it’d also mean we’d have a lot of civil
engineering to do—cutting down trees, building tunnels,
paving the roads. The budget would be huge, and maybe
they were a superpower, but it wouldn’t be that easy to
procure a budget like that. No doubt Erald already had
some ballpark figures he composed himself, in hopes of
forcing the whole job upon us.
“Erald,” Gazel commented, “you are asking for too much.
Not even Rimuru can accept such a massive undertaking so
lightly.”
Well, hang on. I’m pretty sure we covered all the work
and expenses for the highway to the Dwarven Kingdom,
didn’t we?!
 “Don’t be ridiculous, Gazel! If it was Sir Rimuru saying
that, I would accept it, but not from you of all people!”
Ah. Guess Erald knew, too.
So if I’d already accepted the job from Gazel, would it be
wrong to say no to Thalion? In my honest opinion, I had no
problem being left to the task. A highway was a small price
to pay for their recognition, really. But if I kept taking these
low-paying jobs, so to speak, every country we ran into
going forward might expect a similar handout. Humans are
sly like that, something I was sure reminded of by my
experience in Blumund. They had me right where they
wanted me.
Let’s get a thing or two straight before we go any
further.
“I understand your suggestion, Duke Erald. We would be
willing to accept your request for a highway. However…”
“However?” Erald nervously swallowed as he looked at
me. Don’t worry, man. I’m not gonna ask for much.
“However, I want you to let us handle the highway’s
security and lodging facilities. Of course, we would take
payment for this, in the form of a small transport tax on top
of operating expenses for those services.”
It would be like running a toll road. We’d set up stops at
decently sized regular intervals where people would have
to pay fees to advance. That would provide us with
permanent funding. We might start in the red, but over the
long term, it’d probably lead to profit. Our special interests
at work, you could say. On top of all that, we’d keep the
highway maintained for them. A bargain, really.
“…I see. Impressive. And only natural to demand that
much. However, I would like to have the right to negotiate
this transport tax, perhaps once every few years.”
Hohh? Erald’s pretty impressive himself. He immediately
saw what I was trying to accomplish. Of course, none of this
would happen without both sides coming to an agreement.
No point setting that tax too high. I’ll take the offer.
 “All right. Let’s go with that!”
“That’s it?!”
Fuze seemed flabbergasted, but I let it slide. In
diplomacy, the power to make a decision trumps all else.
“Geld! We got a new job for you!”
“Yes sir! It gladdens me to hear. We have the teamwork
to handle every step of the operation, the supply lines to
transport the needed materials, and people with skills that
knead and control the earth. The work you provide us is our
very nourishment, Sir Rimuru, the best military training
ground we could ever hope for!”
Huh?! Oh, uh, yeah… That’s the motivation they go with,
huh? And here I thought Geld had some common sense.
Maybe not so much? It was so surprising, I didn’t know how
to react for a moment.
“Um, yeah. Well, in that case, we better get this war
finished up so you can get to work.”
“Indeed. Soon you will enjoy the results of our daily
training regimen!”
Geld was really up for a fight. I’m sure he’ll be an asset
in the one against Clayman.
That was the last of the feedback I received—and thus,
after several twists and turns, our summit was finally over.

A wealth of nations came to the bargaining table today,

each with their own motivations, duking it out with words in
search of a world where man and monster live hand in
hand. It might have come out of nowhere, but this so-called
Monster-and-Man Summit would later wind up becoming a
turning point in history.

I had once again taken a major step toward my ideal.

With our talks between national leaders complete, it was
finally time for our anti-Clayman strategy conference. I
figured we all needed to hear Soei’s report first, so I
ordered the meeting hall to be set up once more.
As I did, I had the nagging feeling I was forgetting
something. And it just so happened that I was. Ramiris.
What was that noisy little pixie going on about? Was she still
unconscious?
Worried, I headed over to Veldora, only to find… Well,
take a guess. It was Ramiris, entranced by the manga she
was reading! I was concerned she’d start bawling unless I
gave her some attention, but I had nothing to worry about.
“…Hey. Hey, what’re you doing?”
“Shut up a second. I’m just getting to the good part.”
She didn’t even look up at me. Why was she here again?
That manga had her full attention right now, but she had
something important to do here, right?!
I suppose she must’ve woken up, set off to yell at me
again, and then noticed the manga volumes strewn all over
the sofa. They must’ve captured her imagination so
thoroughly she didn’t even realize the summit was over.
She must’ve made amends with Veldora as well, because
now he was happily being served by Beretta, as if that
whole fainting spell never took place. Eesh.

I turned toward Beretta.

“Congratulations on your evolution to demon lord,” it
said with a polite bow. “Allow me to thank you, grand
master, for letting me share in the benefits of said evolution.
Thanks to you, I have transformed from an arch-golem into
a chaos golem.”
This evolution had imparted elements of both holy and
demonic force into it. That was mainly thanks to the skill
Reverser, which allowed the user to obtain two
diametrically opposed essences at once—in Beretta’s case,
aspects of both demonic and angelic power, I suppose. A
new spirit core was born inside it, fusing with its older,
demonic one to create a new chaos core. This let it handle
holy-element attacks, something it was weaker against
before.
I couldn’t have been the only one who saw that as
incredibly unfair. That rock-solid magisteel body, already
impervious to most physical attacks and magic, and now it
was even covered for what few weaknesses it had. You
couldn’t ask for a better upgrade than that.
This unique skill Reverser was something involved with
me, it seemed. A lot of the panic I felt at the time must’ve
come across to Beretta. When I was encased in that Holy
Field, my emotions when I was left powerless by the sealed-
off magicules must’ve affected how this power manifested
itself, I think. Given that an arch-golem runs on magicules,
it must’ve feared that it, too, would stop in its tracks. So it
came up with this countermeasure.
Between Reverser and that chaos chore, Beretta was
turning into one extremely interesting research subject.

Report. The unique skill Reverser is already integrated

into the ultimate skill Uriel, Lord of Vows. Its effect can be
re-created by applying Control Laws to metallic elements.
Creating a new chaos core requires providing the correct
conditions and materials to…

What?!
Raphael just chucked that out offhand, but I couldn’t
believe how useful he was. That’s it—Food Chain! I have
Food Chain as part of the ultimate skill Belzebuth, Lord of
Gluttony, so I can obtain the original model for any skills
owned by my friends.
Beretta had it, too, so we talked about it for a little bit. It
seemed rather satisfied with the skill and the fun it had
experimenting in the labyrinth. Following its evolution, it
figured something similar must’ve happened to me as well,
too.
“In any case,” I said, “I’m glad you’re still doing well.
Once this is all settled down, we should talk a little more in-
depth.”
“Ha-ha! I appreciate you saying that. Now I have
something to look forward to.”
“Yeah. I’m also glad you’re still listening to Ramiris. Keep
that up, unless she gives you any orders that’re too crazy.”
“I will be happy to. I promise I will not betray your
expectations!”
“Great. Hang in there. By the way, what’re you guys here
for?”
I shot a glance at Ramiris, still enthralled by her manga.
“We…”
Beretta must’ve forgotten, too. It made a beeline for
Ramiris, bringing her out of her trancelike state.
“Lady Ramiris, now is not the time for this. We must
inform Sir Rimuru of the news…”
“Shut up! I’m really busy right now!”
“Please, my lady, recall your goals traveling here.”
“I told you! Fate has brought me and this wonderful
thing they call manga together! Oh, which suitor will she
choose in the end…?”
You can’t argue with that impassioned logic. Literally, you
can’t. Oh, the pains Beretta must go through. I couldn’t let
this go on. I had a general idea of what she was reading, so
—with a sigh—I decided to threaten her a little. If I didn’t,
we’d all be forced to wait until she was done with the series,
and that one was an epic running over forty volumes, so
even someone as calm and Buddha-like in his patience as I
couldn’t hold out that long.
“Hey, Ramiris? If you don’t want me to spoil it for you on
who she goes with, then tell me why you’re here already!”
The threat produced immediate results. “Right!” she
shouted, saluting to me and hurriedly flying into the air, not
a care in the world. It couldn’t have been anything serious
—just her overreacting and carrying on as always. The rest
of our visitors had stopped their chatting as they prepared
to leave, also remembering that Ramiris was still there. I
guess they all wanted to satisfy their curiosities before
going.
The fairy noticed the attention and proudly puffed out
her chest (or lack thereof), crossed her arms, and gave me
the boldest nod she could.
“I’ll say it one more time! Tempest shall fall to ruin!!”
“Wh-what did you say?!” I replied without enthusiasm,
following the script. She took the bait.
“Hmph! You know,” she said patronizingly, “that isn’t
something I want to happen, of course. So I came all the
way over here to tell you. You better thank me!”
I tried my best to avoid all her little jabs at me. Giving
them attention would just prolong the conversation.
“So why’re we falling to ruin?”
“Well, before I tell you…” She stopped, turning serious as
she looked around to size up the dignitaries around her.
Then she nodded to herself. “Ah, I suppose this has a lot to
do with you humans, too. All right—listen up, all of you.
Clayman’s just proposed that we launch a Walpurgis
Council!”
“A Walpurgis what?”
“Right, a Walpurgis Council. A special meeting of all the
demon lords!”
Oh. She said “launch,” so I thought it was some kinda
huge magic spell at first. I was planning to storm Clayman’s
domain, so if she told me that Clayman was attacking first, I
would’ve freaked out.
Pressing her for more details, Ramiris stated that staging
Walpurgis required the consent of at least three demon
lords, and once convened, attendance was very much
mandatory. Absence was never forgiven. It was one of the
very few things the capricious, self-serving demon lords had
agreed to on paper (although this still didn’t prevent some
extremely lazy demon lords from sending a representative
with full rights to the Council instead).
“…I think I have read about this,” Erald said. “Once, all
the demon lords came together to wage an epic battle, one
that the Western Holy Church named Walpurgis, or the
feast of demons.”
This was something he had apparently read in some
records dating back a thousand years ago. The war was a
costly one, causing serious damage and disasters across the
land. Walpurgis, the term coined by the Holy Church for it,
had the connotation of not just a demonic feast but one
attended by those who spread chaos and destruction
worldwide. These were worldwide affairs, I supposed.
So if demon lords gathered together like this, did it mean
war among themselves, or them teaming up against some
other enemy?
“So are the demon lords about to declare war on
something?”
“No! I’m a busy woman! I don’t have time for wars and
other annoying stuff like that!”
Ramiris looked like she had a lot of free time, but never
mind. She was a demon lord, one who had been around for
a long time to boot. Maybe she was part of those
conferences of a millennium ago; it wasn’t out of the
question.
Erald nodded at her. “I believe the demon lord Ramiris is
telling the truth. The war in the records I read was officially
called the Temma War, the War Between Heaven and
Demon. It was fought by multiple factions, all vying for
power. Of course…”
As he put it, these Temma Wars (or Great Wars) were
triggered every five hundred years. There was a reason for
that. It was because the forces of heaven—in other words,
the angels—came down to earth at around that cycle. These
angels were kind of natural enemies to demons, I suppose,
but oddly enough, they would attack pretty much everyone
indiscriminately. Developed cities and towns, for some
reason, were a particularly favored target. Nobody knew
why, but there you go.
“That is the reason why we never left the underground,”
Gazel said—and maybe they had the right idea. As
advanced as they were, they’d stick out like a sore thumb.
The Sorcerous Dynasty of Thalion took the same tactic,
building a city in the hollow of a gigantic divine tree—that
“fancy tree city,” as Gazel had mockingly called it. As
superpowers, both nations spared no expense in keeping
their lands safe.
So what about the Western Nations? The Council of the
West was established to protect themselves against
monsters, but also so they could survive an upcoming Great
War. Member nations worked together, while Dwargon and
Thalion basically hunkered down.
But the angels weren’t the only enemy to worry about. As
if responding to their descent, the monsters on the ground
would suddenly explode into action—in this case, the magic-
born, knowledge-bearing monsters. Some demon lords
would use Temma Wars to stage invasions of human nations
as well. The Great War of a millennium ago saw that
happen, which led to a lot of tragedy for everyone involved.
The humans, to their credit, weren’t anyone to be trifled
with. That could be seen in what was likely to be the largest
antagonist of the next war—the Nasca Namrium Ulmeria
United Eastern Empire. The Empire’s thirst for power could
strike anytime, anyplace. If the Western Nations showed
any sign of weakness, the eastern power could bare their
fangs at a moment’s notice.
Thus, you would have these wild, frantic world wars, with
angel and demon and human brutally slaughtering one
another. That was your typical Temma War.
So I guess it was kind of slander to accuse the demon
lords of triggering them. Not that I wanted one of those,
either. And what’s with angels setting their sights on the
bigger cities? I wanted my city to be the richest one in the
land, incomparable to anything else—but maybe I ought to
wait a bit. Maybe it’s smarter not to develop the most
important facilities we needed until we had the resources to
defend them. But this was all in the future anyway. Let’s just
put it in the file for now.
Back to this Walpurgis.
“So what is Walpurgis, though? What do all the demon
lords assemble for?”
If it didn’t have anything to do with a Great War, there
had to be some other motivation.
Wait. Is it that, maybe? Like, what Milim was talking
about, how they punished anyone else who declared
themselves to be a demon king? Are they gonna decide
who’ll do me in?
“Um, well, first, I think you have kinda the wrong idea, so
lemme start with this.”
What Ramiris had to say hadn’t occurred to me at all.
“These Walpurgis Councils, y’know; we hold a lot of
them. All you need is three demon lords to agree to one,
which is pretty darn easy. Back in the day, it’d just be this
informal chat over tea with me, Guy, and Milim… But
Walpurgis is just a place where demon lords come together,
catch up on news, and talk about whatever’s happened
lately. It’s really not a huge deal; it’s just that humans don’t
know about it.”
This sounded like quite a revelation. Maybe she saw it as
nothing, but it was almost scary how lightly she treated the
demon lord job sometimes. Maybe I should take what she
said with a grain of salt. If I accepted it as the unvarnished
truth, it might come back to bite me in the ass sometime.
“Okay, then, stupid, if it’s just high tea with your friends,
then why’s this nation gonna fall to ruin?!”
Even someone as kind as I am felt the need to yell at her
a little. This kid just has no idea what’s going on.
“Look, no, all right?!” She waved her arms up and down.
“The problem isn’t that they’re holding Walpurgis; it’s what
they’re gonna talk about!”
What they’ll talk about? If they’re all meeting together,
it’s gonna be about killing me, isn’t it…?
As Ramiris put it, two people agreed to Clayman’s initial
Walpurgis request—the demon lords Frey and Milim. That
triggered it—and the topic of discussion: “The new force
born in the Forest of Jura and their leader assuming the
title of demon lord.” So me, then.
“So you… You declared yourself a demon lord?”
I nodded. “Yep. And I don’t regret it one bit.”
“Mm, well, that’s not so weird coming from you. You
might have to deal with a few tricky spots, but with all the
power you’ve got, it oughtta work out, huh?”
Ramiris made it all sound like it wasn’t her problem at
all. Which I guess it wasn’t. I mean, I was prepared for this,
but still.
“You think they wanna punish me for it?”
“That’s how they’re phrasing it,” she replied, “but one of
the unwritten rules in our line of work is that if you wanna
punish someone, go do it yourself, if you care that much.
They’re holding Walpurgis this time because they were
betrayed by the demon lord Carillon. Plus, Clayman was
going on and on about how Mjurran, one of his underlings,
was killed.”
“What kind of ‘line of work’ is demon lord anyway?”
She ignored the question.
But apparently Clayman had already fingered “Rimuru,
so-called new demon lord” as Mjurran’s killer. Which meant
his goal was—

Report. It is believed to be the takeover of the demon lord

Carillon’s territory and the suppression of the Forest of Jura.
 Yeah. I think so, too. So that’s why his army’s en route. I
guess he made the first move before we even realized it.
Shrewder than I thought, I guess…
“Hey! Are you listening to me?” Now Ramiris was giving
me an uncharacteristically stern look. “You’re acting like
this no big deal, but it’s huge! Milim’s already taken down
Carillon, I heard, and Clayman’s ready to send an entire
army of magic-born someone’s way. Punishment, heck—this
is war! Clayman’s come up with an excuse to take each and
every one of you down, all right?!”
The summit attendees began to stir. Having one of the
demon lords “taken down” was serious news to the
superpower nations. I suppose it would be. It could totally
disrupt the balance of power between them. And while it
had already happened, the news was a total bolt from the
blue for everyone else. Pretty heady stuff.
That, and:
“Lord Carillon, a betrayer? How dare that brute accuse
him!”
“Clayman will pay for this. I’ll crush that upstart with my
own two hands!”
“Whether Lord Carillon is there to lead it or not, our
armies are unhurt and in full fighting shape. We’ll never let
Clayman’s minions seize our land!”
It goes without saying that the Lycanthropeers had the
most visceral reaction to it all. Nobody likes their master
being called a backstabber, I suppose. Plus, from what
Ramiris said, apparently Clayman was gunning for his
whole territory.
Man, we really got a late start, didn’t we? I had no idea
he’d be moving this fast. Better dispatch him quick—he
can’t be up to anything good.
“Calm down a sec, Ramiris. Yes, it’s true I declared
myself demon lord, but I didn’t kill Mjurran.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that Clayman’s telling you a pack of lies. I
expected him to come out against me with that accusation.”
Plus…
“Wh-what?! You got any evidence to show for that?”
…either way…
“…Um, demon lord Ramiris? Pardon me for speaking me
out of turn. I am Mjurran, the magic-born servant of
Clayman who was allegedly killed…”
…I’m gonna crush Clayman.
The moment I made him think Mjurran was dead, I knew
he was going to react sooner or later. I didn’t take the bait
—Clayman was just hooked by my lure. The rest of the
demon lords weren’t involved.

The sight of Mjurran threw Ramiris for a loop.

“Huh? Wha?! Wait, so… Now I get it! The demon lord
Clayman’s the real culprit now, isn’t he?! I knew it!”
Good thing she recovered so fast. Too bad that was
incredibly obvious to anyone else in the room. I felt bad for
her, so I decided to follow up on something else I’d
wondered about.
“Yeah, I agree with you there, but I wanted to ask you
something.”
“Mm? What? Just ask Detective Ramiris here, and she’ll
crack the case!”
Uh-oh. I wound up just egging her on, didn’t I?
“Detective?” Seriously? She must’ve been peeking at
whatever Veldora was reading, huh? I opted not to pursue
that for now.
“How do you think the other demon lords will react to
this?”
I wasn’t expecting much, but figured I had to ask. She
had been a demon lord for ages, so I couldn’t deny the
possibility that she had something to go on. The room went
quiet, awaiting her response. It was a question of deep
interest to everyone else, too. Too bad Ramiris was so
indifferent to that.
“Huh? Well, I dunno. It was just, like, ‘Here’s what we’ll
talk about during the party, so join in,’ okay?”
So nonchalant with it. I shouldn’t have expected anything
else. Just a kid. I should be glad she came over to tell me at
all.
Next question.
“Okay, so when is this Walpurgis, Ramiris? Do you know
the exact date and time?”
I’d want to know that before we formulate our anti-
Clayman strategy.
“Oh, didn’t I mention it? Um, it’s gonna be three days
from now, on the night of the new moon.”
Three days? That’s sooner than I thought. Gonna be kind
of hard to finish him off in just three days.
So…is this showdown gonna have to wait until after
Walpurgis?
Another issue to bring up with the gang, I guess.

That was about all I wanted to ask Ramiris. That was all
she was here for, it turned out, and it wasn’t like I’d be able
to glean anything else useful from her.
Then a sudden thought came to mind.
“So why’d you come all the way here to tell me?”
“Mm? Well, really, it’s like, if you get killed, what’s gonna
happen to my Beretta here? So I decided to take your side
on this, and that’s why I’m here. That kinda thing. And I’m
gonna build a labyrinth entrance here, but is that okay?”
“No, it’s not okay! Where’d that come from?! What kind
of entrance anyway?!”
I appreciated her bringing the news, but this came right
out of nowhere.
“Huhhh?! What’s the big deal? Don’t sweat the small
stuff!”
She never was one for listening. No, she was much more
for talking—and arguing her point until she got it. As far as
she was concerned, this conversation was already over.
She’s one of the most free ’n’ wild fairies I’ve ever met.
“I am sweating the small stuff, and you should, too! And
don’t go around thinking that Beretta is all yours, either!”
I held my ground, refusing to let her get her way. Any
“entrance to the labyrinth” built around here could never
possibly bode well for us. And Beretta’s fate wasn’t just in
my hands—it had a lot to do with the golem, as well. It
wasn’t something she had any right to dictate. A simple
question on my part led to what I could only call an
outrageous proposal.
We argued vehemently about it for a while, to no effect,
before the crowd finally broke up. I was too busy to deal
with her any longer, and Ramiris, her business apparently
done, went back to her manga.

As they left, I promised all the attendees that I’d inform

them of whatever new information I found. They all agreed
to this before they went their separate ways.
Fuze planned to stay the night at the inn before heading
home. “I hope you’re prepared for what lies ahead,” he
warned. “It’s your country being targeted this time. A
demon lord is a very dangerous thing. I think I know how
strong you are, Sir Rimuru, but…”
I understood what he meant. At worst, I could wind up
making enemies out of several demon lords at once. Out of
the ten of ’em, who could I count on as nonhostile? Carillon
was AWOL. Ramiris promised to back me up, so there’s
one. Milim… Milim’s my biggest worry. I’m pretty sure
she’s just being tricked, but I’d still need to prepare myself
for the worst.
So if I managed to completely screw up everything, I
could have eight demon lords wanting me dead. Of course,
if it looked like I was gonna lose Milim before that, it was
probably best to run for the hills immediately at that point.
“Oh, I’ll figure something out,” I reassured Fuze.
Erald and Elen also whined at me about wanting some
time to talk to each other. I agreed to have them stay for
several nights before leaving—not at the inn but at our
luxury ryokan-style hotel. All of Tempest was proud of that
place, and if we could earn the duke’s praise for it, he was
welcome anytime.
It was funny, though, seeing how different Erald the
statesman was from Erald the person. He was so
preoccupied with his daughter that I was worried she’d run
off on him—I just had to pray he wouldn’t do anything to
make her even angrier.
Gazel also opted to stay a few extra days, so I lodged him
in the ryokan as well. As I guessed from seeing them speak,
they had known each other for ages, even fighting in battles
together. Erald must’ve really been a hell of a wizard. And
now, funnily enough, they were using Tempest as a new
channel to build geopolitical ties with. It’s always better to
get along, of course.
We really enjoyed a celebrity lineup at this summit,
though, didn’t we? Leaders who’d hold major sway over
human nations in the future. And—if you think about it—I
was standing on equal footing with them. Having that
selfish fairy crash it at the very end made for a less-than-
snappy ending, but I think it’s safe to say I gained a lot from
it all.

We would’ve liked to rest up as well, but that wasn’t

happening. I didn’t want demon lords breathing down my
neck, and we needed some countermeasures.
After a meal, we all gathered again in the meeting hall.
The Three Lycanthropeers and Mjurran were our only
guests this time. Yohm and Gruecith were already
preparing to depart—Gruecith really wanted a seat in the
conference but relented after Phobio screamed at him.
They had an important job to do, so I really wanted them to
focus their full attention on that. I was hoping Mjurran
would join in the preparations as well, but she was the one
with concrete intelligence on Clayman, so I had to ask her
to join.
And for some reason, Diablo was joining us. “Heh-heh-
heh-heh… I hardly have any need to prepare,” he declared,
and really, I had to assume he was right. There wasn’t any
reason to kick him out, so I gave him permission.
The moment I entered the hall:
“Oh! You! You! What’re you doing? What’s the meaning
of this?!”
Ramiris accosted me yet again.
“What do you mean?” I asked. Then she began yelling at
me, her face turning red.
Here was the basic story: During this break period, she
was called into the dining hall. I had totally forgotten about
this, but Ramiris had a long history with Treyni and the
other dryads, who served her back when she was still Spirit
Queen. Treyni recognized her at once, of course, and it
wasn’t long before they were all giving her the royal
treatment, answering her every beck and call.
“That’s pretty great, huh?”
“Yes! Yes, it is great! Really great! So I’ve decided to live
here, too, Rimuru!”
Guess Ramiris really likes this town. And as a lonely
demon lord with no minions to serve her, I’m sure the dryad
kindness lifted her spirits sky-high. Between that and being
guided around town, soaking up all the sights, she decided
to take the plunge.
“I told you to stop making all these unilateral decisions!
Plus, remember, Treyni and the dryads are kind of busy
managing things in the forest. They don’t live with you
anymore! They can’t spend all day dealing with you here.”
I gave the three doting dryad sisters waiting behind her
some serious side-eye as I lectured Ramiris. She wasn’t
interested in listening.
“Oh, don’t be so stingy! What’s the big deal? If anything
happens, I’ll help you out of it! Ol’ Ramiris is the strongest
gal you’ll ever find!”
With your help, I’m headed straight for the— No. Never
mind. If I said that out loud, it’d make her cry.
“Sir Rimuru,” Treyni said, “we promise to take care of
Lady Ramiris. I do hope you will be forward-thinking in your
decision.”
“““Do it for us, please!””” her sisters said in chorus. I
dunno. She’s gonna be such a troublemaker. We’ll be
dealing with even more humans here before long, and
Ramiris flitting around will be hard to ignore.
Hmm… Another issue for the back burner, then.
“All right. I’ll think about it.”
“You will?! Oh, Rimuru, I knew you’d see things my way!”
Let’s give some thought later to how Ramiris’s presence
would impact the town. I had other issues to take care of
before that.

With Ramiris suitably placated, it was time to start the

conference.
“Right. I know it’s tough, having all these discussions at
once, but bear with me. We have two items on the agenda
here: fighting Clayman and the Walpurgis Council. Ramiris
here has just informed me that I am being targeted. First,
I’d like you all to hear Soei’s report and discuss our
strategy. Soei, give us your briefing on Clayman’s forces.”
“Sir!”
He began right after my introduction.
While we were holding our summits, Clayman’s army had
been busy. They had stopped in Milim’s domain to rest and
organize their troops.
“They do not appear to be led by Clayman himself,” Soei
stated. “Their leader is accompanied by a slew of magic-
born and boasts a great deal more magicule energy than
the rest of them, but even then, his force is along the lines
of the Three Lycanthropeers. If that is the demon lord
Clayman, he is far too feeble a threat.”
Man, he’s brimming with confidence, too, huh?
“In terms of Lycanthropeer-level strength, I can think of
three magic-born serving Clayman who would fit that
description…”
That many, huh? Yep. He’s sure a demon lord, I gotta
admit. These three were three of Clayman’s five fingers, his
most favored of assistants: Yamza, the middle finger;
Adalmann, the pointer finger; and Nine-Head, the thumb.
Mjurran, by the way, was the ring finger. The final little
finger was named Pironé but was mostly involved in
intelligence gathering and rarely appeared in public.
I had been wondering about the Moderate Jesters group
and their relation to Clayman, but Mjurran apparently knew
nothing about them. “Clayman was never one to trust in his
underlings,” she explained, “so it wouldn’t be strange at all
for him to put observers in place to keep tabs on us during
missions.”
You could call them the audience for his puppet shows, I
suppose. They might’ve been active without any of
Clayman’s forces knowing, like in the orc lord battle. Better
make sure I don’t forget that.
“So who’s their commander, Mjurran?”
The leader Soei had spotted was a thin, frail-looking
magic-born. His Thought Communication broadcast a
perfect image of him to all of us.
“This is Yamza. Yamza, the Frozen Swordmage. He is a
cruel, unfair, merciless lowlife but a regrettably talented
one. He willingly swore his loyalty to Clayman, and we
never did get on well after that.”
 So the army was led by Yamza, a magic-born and
(according to Mjurran) the strongest of the five fingers.
Clayman had granted him an ornate, expensive magic
sword with the power to freeze its targets, earning him the
nickname. In other words, there was no guessing what his
latent skills were without that weapon.
Yamza was commanding an army of some thirty thousand
magic-born, all with varying levels of power. By Soei’s
estimation, around four-fifths were a solid B rank, the rest
mostly an A-minus. There were a few solid A’s at the top, but
we’re still talking Gelmud level at best. That made them
stronger and dicier than the Farmus army I annihilated but
still nothing to really break a sweat over.
“A little too weak, aren’t they?”
Right now, the number of refugees we had taken in from
the Beast Kingdom of Eurazania had surpassed twenty
thousand. Around half, ten thousand, were in fighting
shape, each averaging a B rank—which went up to A-minus
after their beast transformation. It was a surprisingly
powerful force. Even Farmus’s most elite knight corps were
lucky to average a B, and that was with assorted magical
enhancements placed on them, so it said a lot about how
strong Eurazania’s fighters were.
Humans and beastmen were just different, down to the
foundation. We had a big force of them, but Carillon’s
domain still had more on reserves. These were beastmen
that the army recruited from nearby villages during the
capital evacuation, only to have them spread out across the
countryside. The most powerful officers of the Beast
Master’s Warrior Alliance had brought them back together,
regrouped them, and sent them off to hide out at strategic
points. Add their numbers up, and they, conservatively,
amounted to over ten thousand themselves.
Thus, we had a total of twenty thousand A-minus fighters
on hand. Carillon really was a demon lord. What a force
he’d had on him.
 “It is strange, yes,” Alvis said. “Yamza is undoubtedly a
powerful magic-born, but we Three Lycanthropeers would
never lose to him. And while his force outnumbers ours, we
hold an overwhelming advantage in training and fighting
ability.”
“Yeah,” agreed Phobio, “if you want leadership, we’ve got
loads of it!”
“Do they think that Lord Carillon died, and we’ll just fall
over like trees to them?” Sufia sniffed. “No, Clayman can’t
be that much of a fool…”
All seemed to believe that Clayman’s force wasn’t much
of a threat.
Benimaru wasn’t as sure. “One moment, though… Could
Clayman be aiming at something besides this town?”
Ah yes. Maybe we had the wrong idea. Everyone was
always trying to hit this town first, so Ramiris sort of
assumed Clayman was after me once more and flew on
over. And here I was hoping we’d get to strike them from
both sides once the army left Eurazania. The best-laid plans
and all that.
“So are they marching for the Beast Kingdom?! There
are nothing but refugees left there, plus over ten thousand
fighters. They may be better in combat, but Clayman’s
numbers could overwhelm them!”
Right. Soei reported that they were camped in Milim’s
domain for now, but they had already reorganized and were
ready to head into Eurazania territory tomorrow or the
next day. I didn’t think they’d attempt a night march, but
we’d need to factor that possibility into the equation, too.
“I wonder if they are aware at all that we are on the
lookout for Clayman,” Geld gravely stated. I wasn’t so
optimistic about that. Better to assume the worst; then we
can take action when it happens.
“But even if they are marching for this town,” observed
Mjurran, “Clayman would never ignore danger from the
rear. He would snuff out the source of that first before
proceeding.”
Yeah. So would I, actually. But…“snuff it out”?!
“Wait, so you mean…Clayman’s intending to kill off all the
fighters in the Beast Kingdom?!”
And who can say if it was just the fighters…

Understood. I have predicted the actions of the demon

lord Clayman. There is a 100 percent likelihood that he
seeks to awaken himself to become a “true” demon lord. I
do not believe this town factors into his plans. However, to
achieve this, he is likely taking the crude and uncertain
tactic of hunting down all remaining life in the Beast
Kingdom of Eurazania.

Ah. So genocide, then. I’m a total hypocrite for saying

this, but I can’t say I’m a fan of his any-means-necessary
approach.
Clayman never left any stone unturned. I was sure he’d
been observing the highway leading out from this town. The
moment we sent out reinforcements, he would know. And
even before that—
“Clayman is a master of intelligence gathering. I imagine
he’s aware that we Lycanthropeers and the main Carillon
force have evacuated here. Even if we marched for home
right now, it would take two days, at least…”
We’ve totally been given the slip. Just as Alvis said,
Clayman had read through it all. An army composed of
what’re normally B ranks wouldn’t make it in time, even if
they never stopped to rest. I was intending to invest all my
troops in the fight as well, but by the time we reached the
battle, the Beast Kingdom would be massacred already, I’m
sure…
But would that genocide be enough to make Clayman
awaken?
 Understood. Despite the lack of efficiency, he would be
able to obtain a vast number of souls. Clayman’s chances of
awakening are…78 percent. This probability would rise if he
was able to obtain more souls shortly afterward.

That’s bad. We gotta stop him—if not for all those

imperiled beastmen, then at least for my own ass. That
being said, Eurazania’s people were on friendly terms with
us, and trust is worth a lot more than money. Sometimes,
compassion can help you as much as the other person.
There’s no need to refrain from being fully involved.
“Benimaru, stop them.”
He grinned at my fairly reckless order. “You got it—or I
should say, leave it to me!”
Nice to see he’s a man of integrity, too. Get him heated
up, and he can’t help but drop the formal speech. He always
treats me with so much respect in public, seeking to draw a
line between personal and political life, but I wish he
wouldn’t go through so much effort. I don’t want him openly
sneering at me, so at least I don’t have to worry about
that…not that public derision of me is a problem in this
nation.
I suppose it’s kind of like if you get promoted beyond
your former boss in your workplace, and it gets all awkward
between you two. It’s just the way society works—deal with
it. So I decided to deal with it and act the part of the boss.
“Great. We will now design a defense line for the Beast
Kingdom of Eurazania. I want to hear suggestions for a way
to win, with Benimaru taking the helm!”
My leaders all bowed at me.
“““Yes sir!”””
Even the Three Lycanthropeers joined them. I guess my
dignity was more than intact.
Still, that Clayman’s even sneakier than I thought.
Scheduling Walpurgis in the evening three days from now
must’ve all been part of the plan. He’d stage his Eurazania
genocide before any other demon lord could intervene,
then gleefully report on it during the event.
It would take time to unite the scattered forces across
the land; right now, any fighters in the Beast Kingdom
would just be picked off, one by one. It’d be impossible to
resist. And then you have all those powerless civilians being
killed without a second thought…
Now that we’d decided to block that, the meeting hall
was buzzing with ideas. Everyone wanted to assemble a
force at once and head on over—but nobody verbally
brought it up. Everyone here was deeply acquainted with
the importance of starting with intel. I didn’t move
immediately after declaring we’d defeat Clayman, precisely
because I was awaiting Soei’s report.
Even now, we were having supplies gathered in the
town’s main square and refreshing our soldiers’ equipment.
Kaijin, Garm, and Dold were all crafting new weapons and
armor, using their respective technical skills, and all our
fighters were changing into them and preparing for the
battle ahead.
No point in panicking. You had to know the enemy’s
location, army formation, numbers, and mission. Running
into the fray without at least that much won’t earn you any
results to be proud of.
Now our deliberations were nearing their climax.
“So that’s about the war power we have on hand. If we
can have them be there in time, we can win. The problem is
transport, isn’t it? There’s no way to make it, so we need a
way to buy time.”
“Why not send the goblin riders and Gabil’s force in first
to stage a guerrilla resistance?” Hakuro suggested.
“No, it would mean nothing,” Benimaru calmly stated.
“I’ve examined the geography of the Beast Kingdom, and
much of it is either flat or features low hills. There are few
natural elements to conceal oneself in. A surprise attack
from the air would be effective, but a guerrilla force of a
hundred or so simply wouldn’t be adequate.”
The best place to hide a force like this would be the fruit
orchards lining rivers, but these were spread out across
hilly areas with good drainage, so not as subtle as we’d
want. The terrain wasn’t suitable for concealing large
numbers of troops.
“Since when were you looking into our geography?”
Sufia quietly groused. I was actually kind of wondering that
myself. Benimaru probably did some research when I sent
him to lead our first envoy team into the Beast Kingdom. I
guess I really can rely on him to be thorough. Sufia didn’t
seem genuinely offended, at least.
“We have a team of approximately four hundred
beastmen who are geared for speed,” Alvis advised. “Bird
types are rare among us—no more than a hundred.
Sending them out in advance would be a death sentence.”
Simply being able to fly didn’t shield them from fatigue,
after all. If they plus Gabil’s team couldn’t even reach two
hundred, there was little point deploying them first. With
the high visibility of the terrain, too, small squadrons
couldn’t accomplish much.
So for our strategy, we would have to go back to basics.
Plow everything into doing what we could, as accurately as
possible. That’s it. We’d send messages out to the fighters
across the land, gather up as many civilians as we could,
and evacuate them out. Once they were in Tempest, the
dryads’ protection should do a lot for their survival rate.
We’d then have our speedier forces to use guerrilla tactics
to aid in their escape. The slower armies would march as
well, swallowing up the refugees as they prepared to face
off against Clayman’s force.
That was the basic wrap-up. It was a battle against time
and relied a fair bit on luck, but we didn’t have any better
ideas. Thus, to prevent the worst, we decided that all of us
should go out on the field to fight as well.
 Our top leaders—Benimaru, Shuna, Soei, Shion, Geld,
and Ranga—had all learned the Spatial Motion extra skill,
giving them control over “transport gates” linking two
locations together. Diablo was “born” with that ability, too,
but he was with Yohm’s team at the moment. I could call
him back if things got bad, but I wanted to handle this with
us seven if possible, myself included. Each of us may’ve had
the power of a whole army, but we couldn’t afford to push
ourselves too far. Shuna, in particular, wasn’t too suited for
on-the-ground combat; I wanted to have Gabil and Hakuro
covering for her, if possible.
“Guess it’s the only way,” I reasoned. “If we can help
earn our forces some time, I think we can pull this off with a
minimum of casualties. Would’ve been nice if we could just
bring ’em all over there with regular transport magic,
but…”
I brought up that idea mainly so I could publicly shoot it
down. Our problems would be solved if we had magic that
could instantly transport an entire army from one point to
another, but not even my Spatial Motion worked on ten
thousand troops at once.
But:

Understood. Transportation magic allows for the

transferal of materials at a low cost. It works by using a
separate dimension to link two points together, but it is not
effective for handling organic matter, due to heavy
magicule irradiation. However, anyone protected by a
Barrier would not be affected by the transport. Those are
the fundamental rules of transportation magic.

Ummm… So that’s the difference between teleport and

transport magic? It’s just that teleport costs more
magicules to cast, since it includes spells to protect who
you’re teleporting? Wait, so…
 In other words, since magic-born and monsters have
natural magicule resistance, anyone capable of erecting a
Barrier over themselves can be transported successfully
without issue. A full-transportation spell that included
measures to protect the target would also be possible.

So if you’re strong enough not to die when exposed to a

ton of magicules, you can go across this “separate
dimension” or whatever. I guess that’s the way the Spatial
Motion skill works. I should’ve noticed that. What’s more, if
you can fully protect whoever you’re transporting, it’s no
problem to send ’em over. I suppose that’s a sort of
teleportation, really, but wouldn’t that just waste a lot of
magical energy? Besides, trying to adapt that into a legion
magic you could deploy on tens of thousands of troops is
far beyond what I could do right now…

Understood. The spell has already been developed. I have

also succeeded in pairing it with the extra skill Dominate
Space to greatly reduce the magical force required.

Well, look at that! I can’t believe how much Raphael has

grown, developing new skills and magic without me even
having to ask. I mean, my skills must’ve evolved a huge
amount when I awoke into demon lord form, but I still
didn’t have a grasp of them all. They would’ve just been
going to waste without Raphael. If I had to guess, this was
Ability Adjust at work—but either way, I couldn’t ask for
anything better. Right here, right now, it had just provided
me the exact spell I wanted more than anything in the
world. No complaints here!
“Sir Rimuru,” Shuna warned me, aware of the danger,
“it’s too hazardous to attempt transport magic on an
army…”
“Yeah, you’re right, Shuna. But just now, I’ve successfully
developed a new spell!”
All our problems were cleared away. I felt bad for
Clayman, kinda. He would’ve won if it wasn’t for my
evolution.
“Ohhh…!”
“What on…?!”
“Just now?!”
Everyone gave me surprised looks. I nodded back at
them. “The question is: Are you prepared for this? If we use
this spell, we can send our entire army over there at once.
But it’ll be the first time I’ve ever used it, and we haven’t
tested its safety at all. There’s no time to experiment with it.
But do you still trust me?”
I, at least, trusted Raphael. If Raphael says we can do it,
then there’s no room for doubt. But what about everyone
else? Do they trust me enough to stake their lives on this?
“No need to worry,” Benimaru said with a brazen smile.
“I have given you my loyalty—and as your loyal retainer, I
would gladly die if ordered to do so. I know all too well by
now that you’d never give us a meaningless order.”
The rest of my leaders agreed—even Diablo, the new guy,
was nodding with that eerie grin on his face.
The Lycanthropeers joined them. “You got my trust,”
Sufia declared. “We can’t start getting suspicious of
someone whose help we’re askin’ for.”
“He’s already saved me once. Our fighters know that, so I
ain’t about to start whining now.”
“Oh dear, Phobio, you’re making it sound like I have no
choice but to agree. But we’re the slowest force, and as
long as we are, I’ll want to rely on Sir Rimuru’s power to
help us out.” Alvis seemed a tad dubious still but not
enough to turn us down.
I nodded at them all. “I hear you loud and clear! Time to
turn the tables on Clayman’s schemes. It’s all up to you men
and women now. Let me see some victory!”
“““Rahhh!!”””
 I was starting to see some wild, ferocious smiles. If we
can all make it in time, we’re sure to win. Plus, no matter
how closely Clayman’s surveilling the highways, he’ll never
notice our troops get transported in. It’s practically in the
bag. No wonder everyone seemed so confident again.

So I left reworking our strategy to Benimaru. While he

was doing that, Soei gave another report—that a group of
one hundred “Dragon Faithful” had merged with Clayman’s
force.
“One hundred? That much shouldn’t be a problem,” said
Benimaru.
Did Benimaru know about this group already, or…?
“Soei,” I meekly asked, “what are these Dragon
Faithful?”
“The name for those who worship the dragon—in other
words, Lady Milim, the Dragon Princess.”
Oh, Milim’s people? I thought Milim said she didn’t have
anyone working under her. So kind of like her fans, then?
Her domain, which didn’t really have an official name,
featured a population of under a hundred thousand, mostly
people living off the land in harmony with nature. Maybe
they were acting as bodyguards to Clayman’s force as they
proceeded through their domain.
Soei didn’t have any more information yet, so we
dropped the subject. For now, I ordered him to continue
monitoring the Clayman army, as well as search for a
suitable area to deploy our own forces.

That wrapped up how we’d handle the battle. Next came

the Walpurgis Council Ramiris had warned me about. The
Three Lycanthropeers were already gone, relaying our
strategy to their troops and convincing them my transport
magic would work.
Mjurran left as well, since Walpurgis was my problem,
and she wouldn’t have any feedback for that. Her job was to
assist Yohm.

This meant it was just the usual Tempest gang and me,
which put me quite a bit at ease. There was no need to hold
anything back for politeness’ sake now.
“If we only knew where Clayman was, I could just
teleport right on over and put an end to this pronto, but…”
If his military was in motion, that meant his headquarters
had to be more lightly guarded. My leaders and I could’ve
zoomed right over and finished him off without having to
worry about a counterattack. Of course, I couldn’t afford to
laze out on this town’s defenses while I was away, either.
Better keep that in mind.
“I apologize,” Soei said. “There is an area in the region
surrounded by a thick fog of magicules. I found it too
dangerous to proceed inside.”
No need for him to be sorry. He needed to be careful in
everything he does, even with a Replication of himself. It’d
be a lot worse if he screwed up and the enemy found out
what we were up to. Clayman’s HQ ought to be beyond that
cloud—this was already enough of a lead to go on.
“Should several of us explore the area while it is
unguarded?” Benimaru suggested.
“Isn’t Clayman holding Walpurgis shortly?” Shuna coldly
countered. “I fear we may miss him entirely.”
“True, true,” added Hakuro as Benimaru winced. “It
would reflect quite poorly on us if we underestimated the
enemy force and tasted defeat. We need Sir Benimaru to
keep our forces together.”
“All right. Any other suggestions?”
Shion’s hand shot up.
 “Yes?”
“Why don’t we storm that Walpurgis thing and slash up
both Clayman and any other demon lords who have a
problem with us?”
Her eyes were gleaming as she said it. It was my fault for
letting that idiot talk in the first place. I could feel the veins
throbbing around my temples, but I held it all back. This
wasn’t the first time I had to deal with something like this.
“Shion, how are you going to ‘slash them up’? Can you
give me something more realistic to work with?”
Clayman solo was one thing, but picking a fight with yet
more demon lords would never work. We needed to handle
them one at a time, something Shion would have to learn
sooner rather than later.
My scolding made her visibly depressed. Eesh. Let’s try
to soften the blow a bit. I may not act it all the time, but I
like being kind to her.
“But crashing their Council might be a good idea.”
Her face rose, full of expectant joy. She was never willing
to let a bit of praise go unnoticed.
“Listen, Ramiris. You have experience with them. Do you
think I could join in this thing, too?”
“Uweh?! You want to participate, Rimuru?”
“No, I just wanted to ask. Clayman’s gonna be there, so I
thought it would be interesting if I paid a visit as well.”
If I’m being targeted, showing up somewhere Clayman
didn’t expect me ought to rock him a little bit. Resorting to
violence during a Council might not be too apropos, but I
could consider my options once I’m there.
“Hmm… I think it’s probably okay. But you can only have
two attendants along with you!”
Any more than that would lead to trouble that all the
demon lords preferred to avoid. Once, one of the newer
demon lords brought along a hundred or so warriors to the
Council as a show of force. This stoked the ire of another
demon lord whose nation had just been razed and was
looking for someone—anyone—to serve as a little stress
relief. That newer lord wound up killed, along with all the
magic-born for dessert. Ever since, it was forbidden for
relatively powerless magic-born to participate, and only two
guests per demon lord were allowed.
In other words, Walpurgis Councils had ended in violence
before. Which meant it wouldn’t be, you know,
unprecedented if I did it. Maybe I should seriously consider
trying to rile Clayman into a fight over there.
“Well, what do you think, guys? Think it’d be fun to join
in?”
“Heh-heh-heh-heh. A wonderful suggestion. I would be
happy to join you at—”
“Diablo, you fool! I will be by his side, and I refuse to
allow anyone else!”
There they go. Shion and Diablo, back at it again.
Bringing those two along would be suicide, so I crossed
them off the list from the start…
“…But either way,” Diablo said, “if we go into battle with
the demon lords, as long as we can defeat them, all is well.
What need do we have for a demon lord besides yourself,
Sir Rimuru?”
Shion briskly nodded her total agreement. “Exactly! I
had thought you were an idiot, but for a new recruit, you
seem to have much potential! You stated exactly what I was
trying to say!”
Are they friends, or foes, or what? Whatever they were, I
used to think Shion was the only one who didn’t think. But
no, they both agreed that killing all the other demon lords
was a fine idea.
Why’d it turn out like this? Looking around the room, I
could see a few other people nodding their agreement. A
few were more conservative, but a lot of them seemed more
interested in spilling blood than securing a victory. The flock
of war hawks in my leadership seemed to be growing. But
that was just way too reckless. Better hit the brakes on this
conversation.
“Whoa, whoa. No need to go crazy. We haven’t decided
on anything yet. Besides, Diablo, I put you in charge of
Farmus, so I’m not bringing you along either way.”
“Ah, true. I understand.”
Diablo seemed to think of conquering Farmus as a
children’s pastime. I liked that confidence, but hopefully it
didn’t cause him to miss something and mess up the whole
thing. His emotions appeared mixed to me—disappointed
but glad to be assigned work.
“Isn’t that dangerous, though?” Shuna asked. There we
go. That’s the kind of opinion I wanted to hear.
“It is,” replied Geld. “Besides, even if we don’t join the
Council, wouldn’t it be more effective to seize Clayman’s
headquarters while he is away?”
He was absolutely right. It was better to proceed with a
battle we could win without exposing ourselves to danger.
Geld was as much a hawk as any of them, but he wasn’t that
impulsive. I was glad to hear that from him—but I had my
reasons to contemplate attending Walpurgis, too.
Something concerned me about it.
“No,” Benimaru said, “what Sir Rimuru is most
concerned about is what move the demon lord Milim will
make. It is hard to imagine Lady Milim betraying us, but we
cannot deny the possibility that Clayman is controlling her.
Perhaps she has her own motivations, but at the very least,
we are sure she has defeated Lord Carillon. I think it is not
a bad idea to pursue the truth of that matter at the
Council.”
“Exactly,” agreed Soei. “I wonder why Lady Milim signed
on to convene the event. Perhaps she has some kind of plot
in mind?”
Great to see they were of the same mind—sharing both
my ideas and the issues they presented.
“Yeah, it’d be crazy to think that Milim would just do
whatever Clayman wants. I mean, Milim is so self-
centered!”
Are you really one to talk, Ramiris? Maybe not, but I
couldn’t help but agree with her.
“I find it impossible to believe that Lady Milim betrayed
us,” Shion concluded. “I have no evidence to back it up, but
that’s absolutely how I feel!”
Right. No evidence. And I didn’t think she stabbed me in
the back, either, really. Raphael complained about a lack of
data to work with, but even I thought that scenario unlikely,
unless there was some vast change in the state of things.
I’ve decided to believe in Milim—but that doesn’t mean I’m
letting her do whatever she wants.
“I agree with all of you. Milim hasn’t betrayed us—which
means something else must’ve happened to her. Like
Ramiris suggested, I think it’s a good idea to consider
Clayman the culprit—or at least the cause of this. That’s
why I’d like to take up Benimaru’s suggestion. I’m thinking
about joining the Walpurgis Council and seeing what I can
find out in there…”
Something definitely must’ve happened. At the very
worst, Milim might attack us the moment Walpurgis ended.
That was the real cause of my anxieties, the reason why I
couldn’t let her be. Clayman alone, I could handle. Him plus
Milim, I really wanted to avoid. Well, at least I’ve steered
this in the right direction, and we won’t resort to violence
as our first—
“Right? Right, right! Looks like Detective Ramiris had the
right hunch the whole time. So how about we just kick
Clayman’s butt?”
Oops. Maybe not. Not as long as Ramiris was here.
“Besides, what the heck is with all you guys? You have
this, like, treasure trove of powerful magic-born at your
beck and call, Rimuru! If you had this many, what’s the big
deal about just handing Beretta over to me for good, huh?!”
She was getting carried away. The strength she saw in us
was giving her a swelled head—and she still hadn’t given up
on Beretta. Which, as I noted, Beretta has a say in, too, so
her selfishness isn’t gonna get her anywhere.
But she had her allies in the meeting hall.
“I see. She makes a very good point. Right—perhaps I
could come over and do a little killing?”
“Whoa, chill out, Shion! And Benimaru and Soei, I see
you guys packing up to leave town! You’re not going
anywhere yet!”
Here we go again. Just when I was ready to RSVP for
Walpurgis.
I needed Benimaru and Soei to fight Clayman’s forces.
We’d be carrying out these plans at the same time, so I had
to select the two attendants joining me carefully.
Who should it be…? I could physically feel the pressure
from behind my back. It was from Shion, of course. She
might go nuts if I didn’t take her. It was getting harder for
Benimaru to keep her calm, so maybe I should babysit her
instead. Besides, Clayman’s schemes almost killed Shion—
they did kill her, in fact. She might have a chance to take
revenge for that, which was another reason to take her
along.
All right. She’s in.
I wavered a bit on the second choice before settling on
Ranga. I thought about having him stand by in my shadow,
but that’d put us in trouble if a Holy Field or other special
barrier was thrown over us. I could feel him perking his
ears up toward me. Let’s go with him. He’d make a great
bodyguard.
So that was the two. They both knew Spatial Motion, so
it’d also be easy for them to flee if it came to that. If I tried
deploying the new barrier I devised based on Holy Field, I
was pretty sure that’d get us out of there safe, at worst.
That was something we could rely on as we joined the
Council, at least.
But what if Milim really was being controlled? In that
case, it was likely that our town was next on the list for
destruction. I had to do everything I could to prevent that. I
had no interest in seeing this town be scarred again.
“All right. I’m gonna join in. I’m taking Shion and Ranga
with me. Ramiris, can you send word that I’ll be at the
Council?”
“Sure thing!” she casually replied, before immediately
opening up some kind of special demon lord–only line and
informing the others about my presence. It was powered by
this ridiculously complex-looking spell, using spatial
interference to allow for synchronous communication. I
looked at it, curious about how it worked—and then I heard
loud, haughty laughter coming my way.
“Gwah-ha-ha-ha-ha! So! Finally thirsty for some action,
are you? No need to hold back now, Rimuru! Why don’t you
and I come along together? I will tag along with you! Those
demon lords aren’t worth fearing for a single moment!”
Come to think of it, I had totally forgotten I had this guy,
too. I appreciated his confidence, but Veldora wouldn’t
work, no.
“Well, hear me out, Veldora. I want you to stay here in
town so you can defend it.”
“What?!” He looked genuinely shocked. “I said I will tag
along with you. With me, you will stand taller than all the
demon lords combined!”
Hey, defending this town’s really important work, too.
Like, the most important work. We’d have all available
forces tackling Clayman’s armies. That just left a few of
Rigur’s security platoons and Shion’s team. Defending the
town only worked with Veldora’s presence. With him
around, even if the Western Holy Church stopped by to
attack, we’d have nothing to worry about.
I tried explaining all this to him.
“…So you see? You need to hold down the fort.”
“Mmgh…”
He seemed less than convinced. Right. Maybe I should
give him the real reason. But just as I was about to open my
mouth, Ramiris started shouting again.
“Hey! Rimuru! I just got off the line! They said it was
okay, but aren’t you being really mean to Master Veldora?
He could just be one of my guests, then. That’d make me
feel a lot safer, too!”
That seemed reasonable, at first glance. But I could tell
Ramiris just wanted Beretta and Veldora by her side so she
could look supercool around her colleagues. Veldora
probably thought along the same lines, too.
“…Hmm? No, I wasn’t interested in coming so I could
serve as your guardian, no.”
“Uwehh?! Oh, you’re so cold, wise teacher!”
What’s with that teacher stuff? Ramiris and Veldora had
become manga buddies in record time, I guess. They
definitely got along, but in terms of the power balance
between them, I’d say this was all Ramiris trying to curry
Veldora’s favor.
…Well, fine. The most important thing was that my
presence at Walpurgis had been recognized. That was
helpful for me, although it probably had more to do with
how the other demon lords didn’t want to venture near
human lands just to deal with me.
“We’re actually planning to start spreading rumors about
you, Veldora. We discussed that at the summit earlier, but
you knew that, right?”
Having him be Ramiris’s attendant was an idea.
Personally, though, I wanted the other lords to think he
wasn’t coming, since it’d put them off guard for me.
“Mm. Yes. Of course.”
Nope. Sounds like he wasn’t paying attention. He was
way too enthralled in his manga to notice any of our
proceedings. In that case, it’d be easy to trick him.
“Well, it’s like this: If I brought you along, it’d probably
make Clayman think, like, ‘Oh, that Rimuru, he’s a wimp
just bringing Veldora along as a ringer.’”
“What?! Curse that Clayman! I’ll make him pay for that!”
Shion cried.
“Heh. That insect doesn’t know what he’s waded into,”
added Diablo. “Perhaps I should come over and kill him
after all.”
“Shion, Diablo, calm down already,” Benimaru chided,
looking a little angered himself. “That was just an example.”
Man, it’s so easy to tick those two guys off.
“Yeah, like Benimaru said, that’s just what I’m picturing
him saying. So I mean, if we bring Veldora to the Council,
people will be so wary of us that it’d mess up the whole
point of us being there, right?”
Veldora blinked. “Hohh? Ah, I see.”
Shion beamed, though I wasn’t sure she had thought
about my words at all. “A fine idea! Well said, Sir Rimuru!”
“Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh… Still, he will pay for making
light of you. I’d love to make him atone with my own two
hands, but perhaps I should let Shion do the honors?”
“So you’ll throw the enemy off their guard in order to
make your negotiations easier?”
Benimaru, at least, had the right idea.
“But shouldn’t we be avoiding danger as much as
possible?” asked Shuna. She had a point, and Geld and
Gabil nodded their agreement.
“If the enemy is going to be wary of us anyway,” added
Hakuro, “would it not be best to focus more on our own
safety?”
Soei gave this a silent nod of his own.
I could understand everyone’s worries, sure. But I could
cover for that.
“It’s all right. I can actually call for Veldora anytime I
want with the Summon Storm Dragon skill. That doesn’t
count as an attendant, right? So if things go bad, I can ask
for his help then. Until that happens, if it does, I want him
protecting this town.”
I smiled triumphantly at the audience, asking them to
defy me.
 My leadership seemed impressed, at least, as did
Veldora: “Gwaaaaahhhh-ha-ha-ha! I see! I’ll be the great
hero who swoops in to the rescue at the last moment!”
Great. If you’re fine with that, so am I.
“Isn’t that kinda unfair…?”
“Don’t be stupid, Ramiris. I was hoping you’d call it
smart.”
Ramiris may not have liked it much, but Veldora was
already murmuring his agreement. Just one more push…
“Besides, that gives you one more slot to fill for
Walpurgis, doesn’t it?”
This visibly excited her, as it did the rest of my
government.
“Oh, that totally makes sense, Rimuru! So who’re you
gonna match me with?”
I guess she had no complaints. Really, I think all she
wanted was a chance to show off to the other demon lords.
But at least she was on my side.
Now for that last one. I could feel all the unpicked
holding their breath, but sadly for them, I needed someone
strong in that position. Benimaru would’ve been great, but
he’d kinda be handling a war in my absence, so I went with
someone else:
“Sorry to disappoint you all, but I’d like Haku—”
“A moment, please!”
I was stopped by the woman standing behind Ramiris—
Treyni.
“Sir Rimuru, I hope you will give me this assignment!”
“Oh, Treyni! Just look at you!”
Ramiris was already tearfully accepting the offer. Well, so
be it.
“All right. I’ll let you go along, Treyni.”

Now we had our member assignments for the Walpurgis

Council. Me, with Shion and Ranga as my attendants, and
Ramiris, with Beretta and Treyni under her. Then, if we
needed it, Veldora was a quick summon away.
Lucky thing, indeed, that I was accepted.
Me and Leon Cromwell also kind of had some issues to
tackle, but I’d settle with just meeting him in person this
time. I had Shizu’s request to fulfill, and I didn’t want to
ignore that forever, but my target right now was Clayman. I
hadn’t forgotten about the orc lord chaos or about Mjurran.
But most of all, I was concerned about Milim. One slipup,
and I might be forced to fight her next. I was prepared to
face down Clayman, but the idea of a life-and-death
struggle with Milim made me singularly unenthusiastic. It’d
be great if I could get all that worked out at Walpurgis. If
not, I’ll think of something then.
Clayman, you’ve made an enemy out of me. And I’m not
lenient enough to easily forgive someone I’ve identified as
such. You better be ready for me. And if you lay a hand on
any of my people, you can expect to pay for everything you
dish out.
Dahh… Now I’m starting to adopt Shion’s way of
thinking. Still, I couldn’t help but feel a little happy about it.
The time for fretting in darkened rooms was over. Now we
had a clear, concrete goal to reach out to.
 CHAPTER 3

THE EVE OF BATTLE

It turned out to be unusually easy for Clayman to convene a

Walpurgis Council.
The use of Carillon’s “betrayal” as the topic was
important to him. The way it was explained to the demon
lords was basically that Carillon violated their
nonaggression agreement by invading the Forest of Jura,
and Milim punished him for it. That was clearly a screen,
but none of the other demon lords protested. It would all be
coming out during the Council—but by then, it’d be over.
That was Clayman’s aim. Walpurgis would earn him
valuable time toward awakening himself, becoming a true
demon lord, and obtaining immense powers. And Milim
would be there, too. If she acted subservient to him in front
of the other demon lords, that’d just prove to them all that
Clayman was not willing to accept any back talk.
That was his plan, and to make it reality, he needed his
military operation to succeed. It had to wrap up quickly,
before the other demon lords could interfere. He also had
the perfect excuse—to punish Carillon for violating that
treaty, just like how the Council was convened. He just had
to produce the evidence he needed to prove it.

With everything in place, Clayman immediately took

action. Passing through the demon lord Milim’s domain, his
forces pressed on into the Beast Kingdom of Eurazania.
Yamza, a man faithful to Clayman from his very heart, was
chosen to be their leader. He was the only one who knew
his master’s true aims—to drive his army of thirty thousand
into Eurazania and claim the over ten thousand souls inside
before the Council began.

“These people drive me up the wall! How dare they propose

that we work together?!”
The man yelling angrily was Middray, head priest of the
temple built for the Dragon Faithful in their domain’s
largest city. This made him leader of those who worshiped
Milim as a goddess.
“But, Father Middray, failing to follow this order would
put us in serious trouble. Yamza, their commander… He
bore an imperial edict from Lady Milim herself, did he not?”
The simpering associate pleading his case before
Middray was Hermes, a member of the priests who served
this temple. He had a transcendental air about him, which
most people mistook as him being spaced out and insincere.
It grated on Middray’s nerves.
“Silence, Hermes. I don’t need you telling me that! I
know it!”
Hermes couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the enraged
head priest, even though he understood too well what irked
him. It was those magic-born who had been camped out
since yesterday. They had come here, to the City of the
Forgotten Dragon, without warning and promptly occupied
it like it was theirs all along. Apparently, they were a force
from the demon lord Clayman, heading for the demon lord
Carillon’s domain to investigate an agreement he had
broken.
Refusing them simply wasn’t an option. Middray could
rant and rave all he wanted; it wouldn’t have changed a
thing. There was a pretty good reason for this—the demon
lord who toppled Carillon’s Beast Kingdom of Eurazania
was none other than Milim, the object of Hermes’s and his
fellow priests’ worship. If their supreme being was involved,
it was only natural for Clayman’s forces to ask them for help
in collecting evidence against Carillon. In fact, if they didn’t
find anything, that would put Milim in an embarrassing
position. Milim herself wouldn’t care, but Hermes and the
others would.
“Ah, Lady Milim can be such a handful sometimes…”
Her selfishness could be forgiven, Hermes reasoned, but
just a little—really, a tiny amount would be fine—he wished
that she gave them a moment’s worth of consideration.
“How dare you, Hermes! You will never cast doubt upon
Lady Milim’s actions!”
“No, I know that, but…”
But it’s getting harder and harder for us because we’re
always spoiling her. He didn’t say it. It’d just spark another
wave of anger from Middray. This is quite a handful, he
thought, sighing.
He recalled how things had spiraled downward since
yesterday. The army had requested permission to pass
through in advance, and even then, their high-pressure
tactics rubbed the priests the wrong way. This force clearly
looked down upon the Dragon Faithful; it was obvious that
their requests for “support” weren’t really requests at all.
They were orders, through and through.

The Dragon Faithful that resided here, in the City of the

Forgotten Dragon, numbered less than a hundred thousand
in total. They all worked together in their daily lives, there
being no central government to speak of. As a result, none
were particularly gifted in battle—they relied on Milim’s
protection to keep the peace.
 That, at least, was how it appeared to outside observers.
But this was only half right.
Yes, there was no government. All the crops and other
goods produced were collected at the Central Temple,
where it was distributed equally by the head priest. It might
seem like this system would fail, encouraging people to
grow unproductive and lazy, but that wasn’t the case.
Everyone, workers and nonworkers, was guaranteed at
least a certain amount of the wealth—and the more
hardworking would also be provided with additional
supplies.
This was similar to the “universal basic income” idea that
had gained traction around modern Japan. The main issue
was who got to decide how much of a contribution each
individual made to society…and that was Middray’s job,
granted exclusively to him by Milim.
That right afforded Middray all but absolute power in
this city, but he never abused that power. Why? Simple:
Because the other priests who served him had the right to
dismiss him from office. If he got too selfish with his
decisions, he’d lose his post. That understanding was what
kept Middray from becoming a tyrant. (Of course, they
already had a tyrant on hand in Milim, and nobody was
stupid enough to try to imitate her game, but still.)
Thus, these tens of thousands of people were far better
led and organized than one would expect at first. While
some may think the city was lacking in military strength,
that was completely untrue. The Dragon Faithful, thanks to
certain local conditions, all had very strong physical skills.
In addition to their organizational acumen, each adult was
strong enough to almost reach C rank. Their pacifism didn’t
make it clear at first, but this was actually quite a
formidable group of warriors.
The priests, in particular, were in a class of their own.
There were only a hundred or so of these guys, handpicked
from the best the region had to offer, and they could
definitely mess you up. Their daily “prayer sessions” to
Milim (i.e. battle training) gave them superior combat skills,
and once you got up to the level of Middray or Hermes, they
were even strong enough to give Milim a run for her money.
That’s why Middray was so enraged that Clayman’s forces
were treating them like dirt.
And that wasn’t this people’s only secret. The second one
was the clincher.

Another day passed. Clayman’s army was now freely

raiding the city’s storehouses for food supplies. The veins
throbbed on Middray’s forehead as he was asked to remain
patient with them.
“But why has Lady Milim not returned?” he asked, trying
to adjust the target of his rage.
“Well, who knows?” Hermes distractedly replied. They
had gone through this back-and-forth a dozen times or so,
and it was getting on his nerves more and more.
 “We prepared this wonderful meal for her… I hope Lady
Milim is not hungry somewhere out there, you see…”
“I doubt it,” Hermes countered. In fact, he was sure
about it. The wonderful meal Middray mentioned was a
“plate of nature’s bounties,” which in fact was a bunch of
raw vegetables on a plate. The last time he had a meal with
Milim, Hermes stole a glance at her, only to find her lamely
chewing away, all expression drained from her face.
I could tell she wasn’t enjoying it, he thought. She was
just trying her best to power through it. Judging by her joy
when some roasted meat was brought out, there was no
doubt in his mind.
He had suggested to Middray that actually cooking the
food might please Lady Milim more, but that fell on deaf
ears. It was the head priest’s firm belief that providing all
the glories of nature, in their most natural form, was the
best possible way to pamper her. That’s exactly why Lady
Milim hardly comes around any longer, he wanted to say,
but it’d be his neck on the line if he did.
Hermes had traveled extensively across the land, giving
him insight into the cuisines of many nations. The other
priests, meanwhile, didn’t have that experience. They were
too closed-minded to think that anything apart from “pure
nature” would be right, so Hermes just gave up eventually.
“Perhaps, perhaps not,” mused Middray. “But just
imagine. That villain Clayman, thinking he’s king of the
world, making Lady Milim write that edict…”
It was definitely written in Milim’s sloppy— Er, unique
handwriting. They had no choice but to carry it out, but
they could only go so far with it.
“Yeah, true. We can’t do much if it’s Lady Milim’s
orders…but they’ve emptied out Food Storehouse Number
Three, too. We’ve only got seven left. That’s going to make
things lean until the next harvest…”
“Dammit all!!”
Veins swelled across Middray’s bald head like the skin of
a melon. It was rather clear just how angry he was. And
given how he had to work hard to keep from laughing at it,
Hermes was a pretty shameless priest, too.

As they spoke, the very source of all their troubles came

walking up—the general manager of the Clayman force.
“Feh! Keep your cool, Hermes.”
“I hear you.”
You first, Hermes thought. He was hoping the man would
walk on past, but sadly, he was headed straight toward
them. They closed their mouths and waited for the man,
Yamza, to arrive.
Yamza was the general commander of Clayman’s forces,
a man seen as one of the demon lord’s most trusted
confidants. Slender in size and build, he looked light
enough to float into the air, making him a fighter built for
speed. Or perhaps, not a fighter so much as a swordsman. A
first-class swordsman with arms as fast as a passing gale.
The Ice Blade, a Unique weapon gifted to him by Clayman,
allowed him to use the aspectual magic Ice Blizzard.
Between that and his latent sword skills, the Frozen
Swordmage was an A-plus magic-born in rank.
“Well, hello there, Father Middray. We do appreciate the
provisions you’re supporting us with. With an army of thirty
thousand, there’s just never enough to go around.”
He flashed a friendly grin at them, but his eyes weren’t
smiling. He silently, carefully gauged Middray’s response.
He didn’t give Hermes a glance. It was a common thing to
see, magic-born treating humans like second-class citizens.
Hermes wasn’t a fan, but he sucked it up, just as Middray
told him to. There was no point starting a fight. He saw it as
just a temporary affront.
“Ha-ha-ha! It’s an honor to be in your service. However,
sadly, it is difficult to provide you with much more than we
already have. Lady Milim would be saddened if our people
don’t have enough to eat.”
“What are you saying?!” Even that little retort was
enough to set Yamza off. “Your Milim was the one who
stepped out of line. We’re trying to clean up the mess she
made, so the least you could do is show us all the respect
you can!”
It was an act, of course. He was pretending to be mad so
that he could see how Middray reacted. If the head priest
retaliated, he clearly intended to use that as a pretext to
sack the city.
“Ah, my pardons,” Middray modestly began. “We were
thinking only about ourselves there, for a moment. We will
provide you with all the cooperation we can, so please feel
free to ask.”
Hermes was thoroughly impressed. All that haughty
elitism, and Middray didn’t let any of his anger reach his
face. He kept the smile going the whole time.
Well done, Father Middray. Your head didn’t go all
melon-like at all. I would’ve snapped at him long ago.
Yamza returned his smile. “I see, I see. I was hoping to
hear that. We have enough people to sweep up the Beast
Kingdom, but allow me to give you the opportunity to help
us out. You should be able to support us with material
transport, shouldn’t you?”
“W-wait just a minute! First you take our food, then you
take our people from—”
Hermes hadn’t intended to resist him. He just let his
mouth run off. The next instant, Hermes felt an intense pain
in what used to be his left arm.
“Ah?!”
“Silence, you piece of trash!”
The slitted eyes of Yamza, placed upon Hermes for the
first time, were cold as ice. Holding his severed arm in
place, Hermes gritted his teeth and glared at him.
“…So you don’t know your place. You appear in a hurry
to die.”
 Now his smile was brutal in its chill, as Yamza pointed his
bloodstained sword at Hermes.
Bastard. Thinks he can tell me what to do—
Just as Hermes was about to lose his temper, he was
thrown back by a force like a wild animal butting against
him. This was a kick, from Middray, hard enough to nearly
break the skin.
“Ah, no, my apologies for all of this, Sir Yamza. I’ll teach
this fool how to behave correctly, so please, by my name, I
hope you will forgive him.”
Middray bowed his head toward the magic-born.
“Pfft. Always a pain, isn’t it, when the people below you
are such idiots? I will forgive him just this once. We will
depart tomorrow morning, so I want all of you priests to
prepare immediately!”
Middray’s mediation was enough to make Yamza sheathe
his sword. But it came at a heavy price. The Dragon
Faithful’s priests, the leaders of their people, had just been
forcibly conscripted.
Yamza promptly left with nothing more to say. He wasn’t
expecting fighters among the Faithful; he just wanted the
priests and their healing magic. And thanks to Hermes’s
needless meddling, Yamza had everything he wanted.

After he left, Middray sighed and healed Hermes’s

wound.
“You utter fool. I warned you about that.”
“I’m sorry—I just couldn’t help myself…”
Hermes held his arm in place as Middray began his work,
casting the holy magic Recovery on it. In a few moments,
the amputated limb was good as new. The blood loss made
him a little light-headed, but he could use his own Healing
skill to tackle that.
“All right. Well, even if the priests are gone, our people
won’t be affected right away. But that man…”
 The anger he held back was now clear on his face as
Middray glared in the direction Yamza walked off to.
“…He is damaging Lady Milim’s own assets.”
He was referring to his attack on Hermes. It was an
unforgivable act of aggression, although he was now trying
to sweep that kick he landed under the rug.
That kick hurt like hell, too, y’know…
But Hermes didn’t bring it up. He knew Middray didn’t
mean ill of him. As befitting someone who worshiped Milim,
Middray tended to fly into violent rages all too easily.
Something you could say about everyone in this domain,
really…
“No, but really… Do you mind if I kill him?”
“Fool,” the head priest promptly replied. “You don’t stand
a chance.”
He wasn’t wrong. Hermes probably couldn’t even scratch
him.
“Yeah. That sword’s unbeatable, and I think he’s hiding
something else, too.”
“Indeed. He is the confidant of that scheming sneak
Clayman; he won’t reveal his true powers that easily. A real
man would put it all on the table to secure victory, but not
them…”
I wouldn’t call that approach very smart, Hermes
thought, but again, Hermes didn’t agree too often with the
way people thought in this domain. So he pretended to
agree and went back to work. With the new deadline of
tomorrow morning coming out of nowhere, he had a
mountain of business to settle.
The next morning, with two days left until the Walpurgis
Council, the Clayman force continued their forward march.

It was the morning after the summit. I had been working all
night, and my body was giving me a lot of guff for it. Or my
mind was, anyway. In reality, I couldn’t have been healthier.
Not needing to sleep helps a lot at times like these.
Last night, after our conference, Soei contacted me
again. He participated in the meeting in the flesh, but one
of his Replications reported in this time, after collecting
information from across the Beast Kingdom. Soka, and the
other four people on his team, were contributing as well,
providing a few more solid leads.
The Clayman force, ever on the lookout, still had not
moved.
In the midst of this, they all searched for someplace to
deploy our own forces, but a problem arose. The fleeing
residents of the Beast Kingdom were spread out all over the
place. If we wanted to rescue them, then no matter where
we transported our army to, we might have some areas left
unevacuated before time ran out. Thanks to the Clayman
force’s invasion route, we were lagging behind schedule.

Suggestion. It would be more effective to transport the

citizens to a single location.

Hmm. I see. Yeah, I suppose it would be. No reason why

that kind of transport is military only. Dominate Space
allowed me to smoothly travel wherever I wanted, including
to Soei, his Replications, or Soka and the others. I could
then use the new type of transport spell we devised to
collect all the evacuees together.
Thanks to that, things got very busy after the conference.
First, I had Geld’s army go on ahead to build a field base
that could accept these refugees. I transported them over
to the former location of Eurazania’s capital, which Milim
had turned into a vacant lot. Being a wide-open field, it
stuck out like a sore thumb, but there’d be no better place
to deploy a large force in.
 Then I personally went from village to village,
transporting the refugees out. This we wrapped up before
the end of last night, which was why I was so exhausted—
mentally speaking, that is.
Phobio was with me, which thankfully kept us from
dealing with any resistance, although it exhausted him as
well. “Performing all this teleportation,” he marveled before
he left, looking at me like I was some kind of fiend. “How
can you keep yourself together…? And such elaborate
transport magic, over and over again… It seems absurd.”
Well, that’s rude of him, isn’t it? Of course I’m tired.
By now, Phobio should have been asleep in a room inside
one of the field tents Geld’s force built. But that didn’t
matter. Our main force would be ready soon, so I needed to
perform one really big transport shortly.

I headed for an empty field just outside town. Rigurd was

there, having spent the night preparing for this. Unlike me,
he was running and hopping around, a bottomless well of
energy. Rigur was called back as well, and he was pitching
in all he could to help Rigurd. Once they were done, it was
my job to transport all the people gathered here to our
Beast Kingdom field camp. Once that was over, I planned to
start preparing for the Walpurgis Council two days from
now.
Upon reaching the field, I found lines of Tempestian
soldiers waiting for me—including ten thousand beastmen,
led by Sufia and Alvis. Their armor was piecemeal, nothing
unified about it, but that was unavoidable. We had simply
provided them whatever armor we didn’t need, and since
many were capable of transformation anyway, this was
better than confining them in full uniform.
Next to them were my leaders, ready to serve as
reinforcements. Even compared to the Charybdis battle,
our size—and our power to wage war—had grown
tremendously.

Benimaru, noticing, stood next to me and took this

opportunity to explain the evolutions that had taken place.
Following my own demon lord evolution, everyone else in
Tempest had some change of their own. The World
Language said something about everyone in my
“genealogy” receiving “gifts,” and I assumed that meant
everyone I had named.
“Based on what we heard from the townspeople,” he said
as we faced the ranks of soldiers, “the men now enjoy
enhanced stamina. The women report that their skin is
glossier and more beautiful than before. None of that
mattered to me—or I should say, it was beyond my
comprehension, but I suppose you could say their spiritual
strength has risen.”
Some, he reported, looked like they turned back the
clock a few years. Everyone appreciated it. But these were
the townspeople. They were holding down the fort back
home. Let’s see what our fighters are packing.
Among our platoons, as well, there was a litany of
changes. Some soldiers learned new skills for themselves;
others gained the same skill in groups, based on the unique
nature of their squad. I couldn’t wait to dive in and see for
myself.
We first visited a group that had been with me almost
from the start—Gobta’s goblin riders, a legion of hobgoblins
led by starwolves that almost never naturally appeared
unless the right conditions were in place. But were they
really hobgoblins? That’s their species, perhaps, but their
essence was something wholly different now.
Astoundingly, they had all learned the extra skill Unify.
This was a rare one that let man and mount quite literally
become one, turning them into mobile, high-speed, four-
legged warriors. They were awarded an A-minus rank in
this form—they didn’t manage a solid A since they were
geared mainly for one-on-one combat, but they were killers
in battle. A few working together could probably beat an A-
ranked magic-born.
That was the whole gimmick with them, of course. The
goblin riders were a team, guaranteed to work rapidly with
one another’s thoughts and remain steadily in formation.
They were keeping up with Hakuro’s training, after all—and
if you imagine a hundred moving in tandem, you can see
what made these Riders so fearsome.
I definitely felt like the human-invented ranking system
was doing these guys a disservice. I could expect a lot more
from them than that, even.

Next, we visited some of Benimaru’s personal trainees.

Once I became leader of the Forest of Jura, we started
enjoying a lot more combat-ready monsters in our midst.
This included three hundred ogres, the most powerful of
which were young men and women from the village that
sought my help early on. They looked up to Benimaru a lot,
which affected the “gifts” they received.
It was really a crazy sight to see. Some had volunteered
for the force, making them named warriors from the start.
They were strong enough to be considered low-level magic-
born, which made them a tremendously reliable asset. Even
a wild, non-sentient ogre ranked a B—and these guys were
both fully equipped and had learned some Arts. These were
never gonna be wimpy kids.
These ogres had formed a sort of elite personal guard for
Benimaru, and each was A-minus in rank. I named them
Team Kurenai, or red flame.

Now, for the fighters assigned to Benimaru’s main force.

This was around four thousand hobgoblins, and their
evolution was really fascinating to me. They had more or
less taken on the flame element, learning skills like Control
Flame and Resist Temperature Change. Kind of a surprise.
Each soldier ranked a B equivalent, and you could call them
a specialized assault team.
By the way, these hobgoblins all had a reference to the
color “green” in their names, since their skin was green. I
don’t know who named them, but I really wish he thought a
little more about the long-term effect with that.

Report. They were named by you, Master.

I know!!
Eesh, I wasn’t expecting to get dissed by my own skill
here. Talk about unwanted sarcasm. Like, I can’t read that
far into every single thing, guys. These monster evolutions
just made no sense.
Since everybody was named “green” something, I named
this army the Green Numbers. Might as well go with it. I
wanted to go with “red” something since these were
Benimaru’s forces, but I kinda liked the feel of this, too. It’d
be a nice little surprise, this green force unleashing all
these flame attacks. I think I’ll have their equipment
repainted green for the battlefield sometime.

Next up was Geld’s force, a sort of complement to the

Green Numbers.
The high orcs all evolved in the same way, earning
power-up skills like Steel Strength and Iron Wall. Their
officer class also had the extra skill Control Earth, letting
them mold and sculpt the land around them. Good for
digging trenches in a hurry, as Geld put it.
In addition, everyone in the army had earned the extra
skill Armorize Body, making them into much more of a
defense-oriented tank unit. They had also taken on a lot of
my personal resistances—Resist Melee Attack to start with,
followed by Pain, Rot, Electricity, and Paralysis. Kabal’s
Charus Shield, the completed version of the one I gave him
as a present, was now a Unique piece of equipment that
boosted his magic resistance. Basically, whether it was
melee or magic, they could deal with it. I gave half a
thought to exposing them to Shion’s cuisine so they could
gain poison resistance but quickly banished the thought.
Still, obtaining all those shield-like scales from Charybdis
was really a stroke of luck. Kurobe had made lots of copies
of the items Garm had created from them, and I really have
those craftsmen to thank for that.
Now, this unit was sturdy enough that each member
ranked a solid B. That, plus the Unique equipment on each
one, made them impervious to any normal force. It was
almost unfair how defensively able they were, and they
numbered five thousand, their ranks beefed up by a
constant stream of volunteers. Normally, they were involved
in construction work, but when they received the call, they
transformed into a powerhouse, an iron wall that no attack
could pierce.
Their official name was now the Yellow Numbers.

Close behind them were the hundred dragonewts under

Gabil’s command.
Dragonewts were naturally gifted with a pretty decent
array of skills, and they had all but breezed into the A-
minus ranks. Now, with my gifts, the dragon in their blood
had awakened to an even stronger degree. Each of them
now had the intrinsic skill Dragon Body, along with either
Flame Breath or Thunder Breath, giving them some much-
needed long-range attacks. Gabil could use them both,
which meant he really was an exceptional dragonewt, I
guess.
What I still didn’t really get was Dragon Body.
 Report. The intrinsic skill Dragon Body is—

Oh, um, I didn’t need the full documentation. I know now

that I can’t use it, so there’s not much point in hearing it.
I’m sure Gabil and the rest will take the time to figure out
how to use it best, if they want. What’s the point of having
power if you never earned it for yourself? That’s what I
think.
Huh? What about me? Well, I have the ultimate skill
Raphael, Lord of Wisdom. If I have a problem, Raphael will
help me out. No issue there. That’s my power, so in a way,
it’s like I’m the one making the effort there. I don’t think it’s
going too far to say that.
So! Hopefully Gabil and his team can learn how to use
that Dragon Body thing before it’s too late! Not to throw it
all on you, but good luck.
Still, in a way, it was almost like this squad’s talents were
going to waste with Gabil. They could fly; they could
breathe fire and lightning from the air… It’s nuts. And
thanks to their intrinsic species aspects, they were resistant
to pretty much everything—scales of steel, breastplate
armor of magisteel. Whether by sword or by magic, no
halfhearted strike was going to break their skin. Flight
alone was enough to give them an overwhelming
advantage, but look at that defense! Speed, offense,
defense—the complete surprise-assault package, all in one.
I named them Team Hiryu, or flying dragon. They only
numbered a hundred, but they were the strongest unit in
our forces.

Last but not least, we had a brand-new unit, one

positioned as my personal elite guard. Led by Shion, they
were also a hundred strong, composed of the victims I
revived after the battle in Tempest. There were some
children, age-wise, among them, but apparently they had
grown up to—and beyond—the point of maturity. I guess
their frustration at not being able to fight encouraged that
kind of evolution? Who knows?
As far as skills go, they all earned the extra skills
Complete Memory and Self-Regeneration. Those two
complemented each other. Complete Memory meant that
even if their heads were blown off, their memories
remained in their astral bodies. They could then use Self-
Regeneration to recover fully instead of dying instantly. This
meant they had basically gained the astonishing healing
skills of the Orc Disaster of yore.
If Self-Regeneration ever evolved into Ultraspeed
Regeneration, they’d be pretty much immortal. And I had a
hundred of these guys. I couldn’t even deal. And thanks to
that regeneration, they were durable enough to take
Shion’s ultra-intense training and deal with it just fine. As a
female member put it, one who was just a little girl not long
ago: “We don’t die or anything!” I didn’t have much of an
answer to that, no. I wasn’t sure if this was the best thing
for ’em, but hey, have fun! Break a leg!
Their strength was at around a rank C for now, but I had
a feeling that, over time, they’d become the strongest unit
in our forces. With that expectation, I decided to name them
Team Reborn. They all had a whole new life ahead of them,
after all.

That rounded out the briefing.

It felt like the effects of my evolution dovetailed well with
everybody’s personal efforts to bear some major fruit for us.
My first impression was Wow, we’re more damaging than
ever. The total force was under ten thousand, but we could
whip pretty much any army out there. Their numbers
weren’t as strong as the Farmus military I wiped out, but in
terms of war power, we would’ve totally overwhelmed them.
All this stuff came as a total surprise to me. Being
outnumbered is still a weakness, but we’d just have to
gradually build that up, between strengthening our country
and negotiating with others. I think a standing force of
around ten thousand would be the number to shoot for.
Plus, we still had our reserve forces protecting the Forest
of Jura. They weren’t part of this campaign—the difference
in training was just too much—but if we could work ’em up,
they’d serve us well enough in battle, too. That’s something
to tackle in the future.

Still, after Benimaru finished his report, I couldn’t help but

be amazed by the sight of ten thousand of my soldiers in
formation. That, plus ten thousand beastman soldiers—an
army of twenty thousand, all lined up and waiting for the
order to march.
Shion’s Team Reborn, as my personal guard, was on
standby away from the crowd. They were holding down the
fort back home this time, so they’d just get in the way
among these ranks.
“Sir Rimuru,” Rigurd reported, “everything is ready.” I
thanked him for his long hours of frantic work. “Oh, I hardly
deserve it,” he said, smiling.
So if we’re all set, it’s time to get transporting.
“Oh, um, Lady Alvis…?”
“Alvis is fine, Sir Rimuru.”
I was trying to be polite, but I guess I made things
worse. Let’s just bulldoze right over that.
“All right, Alvis. We have all your friends assembled on
the other side, so I want you to relay what we talked about
to them. I think Phobio should be organizing them into
units, so you take care of the rest!”
“Understood. I promise I will not forget your kindness.”
She bowed deeply at me, followed by Sufia and the rest
of the beastmen. It felt almost oppressive, but I didn’t react.
That was how they wanted to show their appreciation.
“You really saved us,” a smiling Sufia told me. “Now we
can smash up Clayman’s forces without a second thought.
We’ll let you have him, Sir Rimuru, so take out all our anger
on him for me!”
Pretty scary face, considering that smile. Alvis was
similarly glaring at me, in apparent agreement. Everything
was set for them; now all they had to do was go wild on the
battlefield. We’d enjoy a force of twenty thousand beastmen
alone, so I’m not sure we needed the reinforcements, but
the more the merrier. If it was just them, we’d still be
outnumbered anyway.
With these extra fighters, we now had a unified force of
thirty thousand to go against Clayman’s own thirty
thousand. We were even now, and we were the better-
quality army. Victory was as good as ours. The only
problem…
“Benimaru, any issues with our operation?”
While I was rounding up beastmen last night, I had
Benimaru and his team shake down our plan of action once
more. The gist of it hadn’t changed, but since we weren’t
spreading out our forces to collect the refugees any longer,
a few details needed to be changed.
“We’re all set, sir.” He shot me a crafty smile. “If Clayman
is targeting the citizens of the Beast Kingdom, then retreat
is certainly an effective option as well.”
Yes. I agreed with him. No need to smash right against
his front line and get people killed.
“I discussed it with Sir Benimaru as well,” Alvis said,
excitedly playing with the staff in her hand. “We’ve got
enough leeway now to move the site of battle, so it’ll be a
little while before we begin…”
All systems go, then. Failing to complete his mission
before Walpurgis would make for one angry Clayman, no
doubt. At the very least, he’d treat his underlings even
worse than usual. If their army’s commander fears that and
starts freaking out, the ball’s on our side.
“…We will deploy the force at the entrance to the Forest
of Jura. The wasteland that was once our home, the now-
toppled orcish kingdom of Orbic—now, it shall be their
grave.”
There was something close to sheer malice in Geld’s
voice. Clayman’s scheming cost him his home nation, and
now it would be the site of the decisive battle. I suppose
anyone would’ve felt the hand of fate at play here.
The strategy, as it was, is pretty simple. We’d make it look
like we had the refugees evacuate into the Forest of Jura,
then strike at the enemy forces trying to pursue them.
That’s about it.
Raphael provided the perfect simulation of it in my brain.
Obtaining and replaying the information Soei and his gang
gave me, I had a picture of the future that was almost as
vivid as reality. I then Thought Communication’ed that to
everyone else, so we could all equally grasp it.
Our original plan called for us to keep the refugees
secure as we lured the enemy over, eventually surrounding
and destroying the force. With this change, the faster units
would serve as bait instead. That reduced the danger to the
individual forces involved, which greatly boosted the
chances of this working.
The key to this was making sure they were all inside the
forest before crushing them. I didn’t intend to kill them all,
but I didn’t like the idea of them running away and
attacking again later. We had to be thorough.
“You got all that, Benimaru?”
“Of course. Let’s give them enough hell that they never
dare defy us again!”
Ooh, he’s got his no-mercy face on. I like that.
“Let’s wipe ’em out, Benimaru!” Shion added, cheering
him on.
“Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh… You need to take out the
garbage fast, you see, before it rots.”
Diablo was…also cheering him on? I’m not so sure, but
whatever. They both wanted to join in, of course—they just
loooove fighting. But Shion would stay with me to prepare,
and Diablo would be stepping into Farmus land soon. They
were out of the picture. Now to just leave things to
Benimaru and wait for the good news.
“Right! No matter what happens, I want you to report
back immediately. I’m sending you off now. Win this one,
guys!!”
“““Rahhh! Victory shall be yours!!”””
And now they were all looking at me, all those many,
many eyes. As I regarded them with my own golden pair, I
deployed a square of magic. I spent ages practicing this last
night, so I had it down pat. Beneath the feet of all twenty
thousand, a giant square drew itself in layers, from the
bottom to the top. A complex array of geometrical shapes
built themselves up inside, too intricate for me to figure out.
Something this size, of course, required a lot of magic and
concentration. My energy rapidly drained, but based on my
figures, I should manage to hold out. (Not to brag, but my
magicule stores had risen exponentially, too.)
It took around five minutes in all. Everyone stood there,
bolt upright, waiting for the transport spell to complete.
And then, the moment the mélange of shapes within the
square stacked up above the heads of everyone inside—the
entire army was gone, in the blink of an eye.
Transport complete. Looks like we got them out of there.
Back when I was practicing last night, I was a little
concerned Clayman had noticed all the light this was
generating in the darkness. So I combined it with a
blindness bomb to sap all the light away from the magic
square. You never know where you may mess up—diligence
is key. There was no need for that now, though, and the
sight that unfolded before me could only be described as
magnificent.
 “Well done, Sir Rimuru. Such a beautiful spell.”
“Indeed. It was so charming!”
I had earned high marks from Diablo and Shion. Diablo
must’ve really liked magic. Once things calm down, I’d like
to talk shop with him a little. Maybe he’s got a spell or two
I don’t know about. And I’ve got to help Shion stop being
jealous of everyone around her. I can’t afford any weird
drama around here.
Such were my thoughts as I nodded at them, and we
went on our way.

After everyone left, we were greeted by a clearly bored

Veldora. “Rimuru,” he asked, “can I go and beat ’em all up,
too?”
I knew it. He hadn’t listened to a single word I told him.
“What are you, deaf? I’m trying to keep you a secret until
the Walpurgis Council begins! If you go crazy out there, the
secret’s gonna be out in two seconds!”
“Gwaaaah-ha-ha-ha! Yes, yes, of course. I almost forgot!”
“Almost,” my ass. I don’t know what to do with this old
coot. I gave him a whole bunch of manga volumes I had
stored up, but will that be enough? Because I’m really
worried he’s gonna try to pull something stupid. Better
keep a very close eye on him.

Yohm and his squad also set off that afternoon. I look

forward to having them tell everyone they run into along
the way that Veldora is back—I told them to make sure and
phrase it so it spreads as quickly from village to village as
possible.
The purpose for this, of course, was so Clayman would
hear about it as he keeps snooping on us. Hopefully the
news will reach him sooner than later, I thought as I saw
them off. Diablo told me to “expect us back very, very soon,”
but how much of a pushover does he think Farmus is
anyway? It almost made me worried, but I still left things up
to them anyway. Everybody makes mistakes, after all, and if
something came up, we could think about it then.
It wasn’t long after when Gazel set off toward the
Dwarven Kingdom. His assorted ministers were livid, which
made his departure a bit more hurried than I think he
would’ve liked. Guess that decoy he hired wasn’t up to the
job, and I could guess why. I definitely shouldn’t be taking
any lessons from him on that front. Nobody likes being
found out.

Another day passed—and while Benimaru reported that

things were moving along well, we weren’t without our
problems.
Naturally, a group of thirty thousand soldiers and
refugees is a little restricted in where it can go. These were
stout beastmen, however, not humans, so I was told that
they should reach their destination without too much delay.
I wasn’t too worried, though. I had something to deal with
that.
“Right,” I said, patting Benimaru’s shoulder. “We’re all
ready to take in the refugees here, so I’m gonna transport
all the noncombatants over to Tempest.”
“Oh… There is that, yes…”
Benimaru groaned, chiding himself for not coming up
with it first.
You know, though, that transport spell costs a lot of
magicules. The more people you’re transporting, the more
it adds up. At this point yesterday, I was fresh off moving a
force of twenty thousand around; I didn’t really have much
free energy left. I couldn’t go shooting that off rapid-fire, so
it wasn’t like I was deliberately wasting time. Besides, this
was a completely new sort of magic, one that flew in the
face of conventional approaches, so we’d be able to weave
this into future tactics with a lot more frequency. I mean, I
don’t think too many people could cast that spell anyway, so
that should help preserve our unique superiority.
Regardless, Rigurd had set up the required camping
quarters after I sent everyone off yesterday, so I figured we
could transport the refugees alone into here. So I did it all
in a snap. And none of them were nervous about it, either. I
guess they were all adaptable enough that they got used to
it quick.
I let Rigurd guide them around, since that work I started
yesterday was still calling my name. I really wanted to finish
it up in time for Walpurgis, so I just had to hope no more
issues arose.

In the end, the day of the Walpurgis Council began without

any major crisis. My work was done before lunch, allowing
me to dive into the final stages that afternoon. Looks like I’ll
be on time. That’s a relief.
“Rimuru, is this…?”
“What do you think? Pretty neat, huh?”
“What’re you, some kind of genius?!”
I had enough of dealing with Ramiris’s yelling at me. I
didn’t want to engage any longer. I had to save my mental
acuity for this evening, so I’d just ignore her rantings for
now.
After lunch, I worked on the final touches, then placed
the finished item in my Stomach and headed over to the
treant village where Treyni lived. Veldora wanted to join
me, but he’d have to wait. I didn’t want anyone attacking
town, not that I thought they would. Right now, the whole
urban area was being protected by a Barrier that Veldora
put over it. That prevented any potential eavesdropping
from Clayman as well, so him abandoning town at the
moment was a bad idea.
 So I promised him “next time” and set off with Ramiris
and Treyni. I assigned Beretta to deal with him, as much as
it hurt my conscience. He’ll probably be used and abused,
I’m sure. I’ll have to reward him later.
With a quick casting of Dominate Space, we were on our
way. Once we reached the village, we quickly spotted the
insectoids Apito and Zegion. When I first saved his life,
Apito was maybe around a foot long, but now he had grown
to nearly twenty inches. It was great to see that guy in good
health. Zegion, meanwhile, was at well over two feet and
strong enough that a lot of monsters knew better than to
pick a fight. Of course, there weren’t any monsters around
here that were hostile to Zegion anyway, so there’s no real
way to gauge his power. I told it not to do anything too risky,
so it probably hasn’t. Unlike Gobta and Gabil, it knew its
limits and didn’t get all carried away over everything.
Apito flitted right up once it spotted me, happily
providing me with some honey. Ah, thanks! The perfect
medicine. Let’s have a li’l taste of that… Mm. Yep. That
most rare of cure-alls—and it tastes real good, too.
“Hey, whoa, um, Rimuru— Er, Sir Rimuru? I wanted to
ask you something.”
I looked toward Ramiris. She looked freaked out.
“What?”
“Those insects… Are those army wasps?”
“Hmm? I dunno.”
“You don’t know?!”
Ramiris gave me the most exaggerated double take I
ever saw. So what if they’re army wasps?
(Sir Rimuru,) Apito telepathically said to me, (it is as that
person says. I am a queen wasp, the highest of the army
wasp order. Would you like me to summon my queendom?)
Whoa, that sounds pretty fancy. I think we can go
without that for now, though.
(You can save it for when this village is under attack. If
you want your friends around here, I’m sure you can talk
that over with the treants.)
(I’ll refrain for now, then,) Apito said, wings thrumming
in what sounded like a happy buzz as it flew off. It sounded
quite pretty, if a bit chainsaw-like and lethal. Are army
wasps pretty dangerous beasts, then? I doubt it. Apito,
collecting honey for me and everything, hardly seemed
hostile at all.
Plus, Zegion was there, too, giving me a shy salute as it
followed after Apito. Maybe that guy was the king of the
insects or something—it certainly felt kind of regal. I was
pretty sure it’d only grow in strength. Maybe evolve, even.
If so, I’d love to have that guy join my team.
Turning around, I saw Ramiris with her mouth agape,
while Treyni was doing her best to console her.
“Yeah, you’re right. I guess they are army wasps. Plus,
one’s a queen.”
“I heard them! I mean, you… Ugh. Never mind. You can
do just about anything, can’t you? And that other one… I
mean, I really don’t think it could be, but…”
She wasn’t making much coherent sense. I ignored her.
No time to deal with it, and besides, if it was Ramiris, it
couldn’t be that important.

We had reached our destination—a dryas, the holy tree

that was Treyni’s “main” body.
I took out my completed project from my Stomach. It was
an orb, dull in color. No sheen, no glow to it—but you could
absolutely feel the power.
What was I going to use it for? Well, Treyni—and all
dryads—were descendants of fairies, a form of spiritual life
that could take on physical form by combining themselves
with plants. They could freely release their spiritual bodies
and use magicules to create temporary corpuses to live in.
Their “real” bodies, however, were these dryas trees.
The Walpurgis Council was going to be held in some kind
of special dimension, so Treyni might not be able to get in.
So I decided to conduct a bit of large-scale surgery on her
so she’d be able to move around in her “real” body. Unlike
Beretta, which had no physical form in this world, Treyni
had a corpus. As a result, we needed to transfer the “core”
within her from her current body to the new one, much like
a golem becoming established in its own form.
I had an idea of what this new core could be. It was a
chaos core, one that can only be made with certain
materials under certain conditions, and that orb I just took
out would be the vessel for this core. In a way, it was like
extracting magicules from the magic stones that can be
taken from the cores of monsters. It’s hard to make these
retain no element at all, so I went through many failures
before I created this. I also needed several other materials
to make this orb, so I spent nearly all of yesterday
gathering them.
Making a chaos core required an equal mixture of
spiritual and mystical force inside this vessel. With Beretta I
could’ve just filled them with both in equal quantities and
densities, but it wasn’t so simple with Treyni. She would
have to inject the orb with her own spiritual energy herself,
while I put in mystical force that had been mixed to an
exactly proportionate density and size.
Now it was time to get to work, and that meant it was
time for Raphael to shine. With my signal, Treyni began to
turn her body into spiritual matter and let it flow into the
orb, without a moment’s hesitation. I injected the mystical
force alongside her, not missing a beat. This was precision
work, but it proceeded with no calculation errors.
The dryas lost its life force, visibly withering before me.
Alongside that, the orb began to blink on and off, almost like
a pulse. Light and darkness traced a spiral inside it—and
then, the orb began to shine a light shade of green. The
flickering of life was thriving inside.
 Report. The individual Treyni’s element has mixed into it,
but construction of the chaos core is successful.

It had all gone as planned.

“Okay, it worked. This orb is now Treyni’s main body.”
(Thank you so much, Sir Rimuru!)
“Yeah, thanks, Rimuru! Now I can take Treyni here along
with me!”
“You should be safe with that, yeah. But… Hmm…”
Treyni would no longer be separate from her main body,
so she wouldn’t have issues traveling across dimensions
anymore. But something still seemed missing.
“Treyni, do you mind if I take this tree that used to be
your body?”
“Of course not. Use it however you like.”
I thanked her, then got straight to work.
“What’re you gonna use it for?”
“You’ll see!”
I cut down the tree, working the wood, creating precision
parts with it to form a human shape.
(Oh! Ohhhhh! Is this…? Are you gonna…?!)
Ramiris quickly understood what I was up to. She was
right—I thought I would make a replacement body for
Treyni, using the dryas that was imbued with her magical
force.
Three hours later, the doll-like figure I had been working
on all afternoon was complete. Its core was reinforced with
magisteel, the surface made of fully polished wood. It felt
remarkably comfortable to the touch—a very fine piece of
work.
“Oh, is this…?”
Even Treyni, who rarely expressed surprise at anything,
couldn’t hide her excitement.
“What do you think? Pretty good, huh? You can use this
as your body if you want.”
 I didn’t need to ask. Ramiris was overjoyed, but Treyni
needed no encouragement from her. She thanked me
profusely and installed herself in her new body. From that
moment, the wooden doll became Treyni’s new corpus. It
was the world’s first fully mobile dryad.
From the moment the chaos core—the heart of any
monster, you could say—entered the doll, magic force
surged out of it, penetrating and filling every grain on the
surface. Then, amazingly, the white grains faded, no longer
standing out, turning as intricate and detailed as human
skin. Perhaps more beautiful, even. A beauty that goes
beyond humanity.
Unlike with Beretta, I didn’t work from a skeletal frame
for the face. I simply carved the head to look the way Treyni
looked. But once her orb was in there, its expression grew
as soft as anyone you met on the street. It was wood, but
the mouth still moved, and the eyes blinked. I have no idea
what was driving that. “Because she’s a monster” was my
only real guess. This body was kind of herself, once, so
maybe it was more compatible than most cases.
Either way, that pie-in-the-sky surgery of mine was a
greater success than I ever could’ve guessed.

And for some reason, she was stronger now, too.

My mystical aura, injected into the orb so perfectly by
Raphael’s fine-tuned work, had produced a chaos orb that
worked in exact harmony with Treyni’s spiritual force. It
was the equivalent of doubling her magicule stores. I think
taking in the holy and demon elements earned her some
new skills, too. She struck a greater presence than Shion,
who boasted the most magical force out of us all. Definitely
stronger than the Orc Disaster. Not up to the demon lord
Carillon, but I could feel a different type of sheer
awesomeness from her.
I think it could bring her to disaster level, the venerable
S rank. Of course, she’d still be Special A for now, a
calamity-level threat, due to not actually being a demon
lord. The Guild-crafted ranking system really couldn’t deal
with special-case magic-born like this. Personally I’d feel
safe calling her a sub-demon lord.
Between the dryas, the doll, and the dryad, we had here
a creature that was worthy of awakening into a demon lord
someday. That’s the kind of powerful magic-born Treyni was
now—and among other things, it let her join Ramiris on the
trip.
I’ll bet even Raphael was surprised by that one!

Understood. It was all according to plan.

See? Totally surprised. No need to be a sore loser about

it.

Raphael had nothing to counter me with.

With that mental victory in hand, we all said good-bye to
Treyni’s sisters, Traya and Doreth. They had been watching
the whole surgery, looking incredibly jealous. I suppose I
should do the same thing for them, as thanks for all their
work watching over the Forest of Jura…but that would have
to wait. We could consider that after we were all back safe
from Walpurgis. I didn’t want to lose Jura’s guardians
because they were too busy doting on Ramiris, besides.

Well, we were now on our way back to town, and I’d now
done all the preparing I could. Looking up, I realized there
was no moon in the sky, the stars twinkling at me. Today
was a new moon, wasn’t it? And soon, under this beautiful
night sky, the bell for the first round would ring out.
With the stars behind me, I set off for my battlefield.
 INTERLUDE

THE DEMON LORDS

The demon lord Clayman awaited the appointed hour, a

glass of wine in his hand. The Walpurgis Council was
tonight, and as a mixture of anger and happiness danced
across his face, he thought over a few things.

First, the bad news.

Ignoring the warnings of his friend Laplace, he had
advanced his forces into the Beast Kingdom of Eurazania.
But they had failed to discover even a single citizen left
there. The effort had gone to waste.
The briefing from his commander Yamza drove him into a
fit of rage. But until they knew why this happened, giving
further orders would be careless. Instead, Clayman decided
to gather his forces together and carefully continue the
search.
What they found was a group of stragglers, frantically
attempting to flee the kingdom. Upon being advised of
them, Clayman immediately ordered an attack, sending
scouts to the area to search for anyone else hidden nearby.
They eventually found several hundred civilians in hiding,
but as they attempted to dispatch them all, they
immediately ran away.
Finding this suspect, the army conducted further
investigation, only to discover that a larger group of some
several thousand refugees was fleeing toward the Forest of
Jura. The small group of several hundred was just bait to
help the rest of them flee.
Those insolent…!
Now Clayman knew why there was nobody left living in
the Beast Kingdom. They had undergone a mass emigration
to Tempest, relying upon Rimuru for their continued
survival. The stragglers were also on to the Clayman force’s
activity, fleeing the area once the bait was taken.
He wanted to have those souls safely hunted and
collected before Walpurgis, but it just wasn’t going to
happen. He had to admit that now, and it made him deeply
unhappy.
“Yamza, the Council is about to begin. I want your entire
force to chase them down before I return. Kill every last
one of them and bring the survivors before me!”
“I swear to you it shall happen, sir!”
He nodded, but it did nothing to overturn the fact that he
wouldn’t be awakening tonight. It annoyed Clayman terribly
as he closed the magical link.

Meanwhile, there was good news to be had.

Using his feelers in the ground—electric signals and
natural geomagnetism—he was constantly gathering
information. Nobody had been fully aware of this power yet,
giving Clayman free rein over a vast array of data. It was
what allowed him to enjoy the alias of Marionette Master.
At the time he gained this skill, it permitted him to
interact only with people or things within his line of vision.
Now, however, thanks to ceaseless training and effort, it
had become the keystone force of his entire empire. This
unique skill—Manipulator, it was called—converted
information into encrypted communications as it conducted
surveillance over a wide area. Deploying a member of his
team to an area allowed them to function as his eyes and
ears to gather intelligence.
It was this vast network that informed him that Veldora,
the Storm Dragon, had revived. This, in itself, was not
welcome news—but the human beings who had spoken with
the Storm Dragon and apparently survived the experience
had some very fascinating things to say.
According to conversations surreptitiously heard from
adventurer types leaving the monster town, Rimuru, self-
styled leader of the forest, hadn’t defeated the Farmus
force at all. The missing army was the result of the Storm
Dragon’s resurrection—and since he had only just been
reborn, the dragon’s stores of magicules were largely lost,
emptied out as it raged upon Farmus’s army. That explained
why there was no massive onrush of magicules around the
Forest of Jura, as one would expect from such a cataclysmic
event. That these adventurers lived to tell the tale was
another sure indicator.
If the Storm Dragon Veldora was alive once more, there
was no way Clayman, a demon lord, wouldn’t have picked
up on that. The rumors must have been true, then—he lost
his magic force during the battle with Farmus.

These two pieces of news conflicted Clayman.

It would be a simple matter to slay that dragon right
now. I may even be able to add him to my cache of pawns…
A tantalizing fantasy. The dragon has been using the
town the monsters built as his personal den, it seemed, and
it was hard to gather information in that area…but he felt
no need for concern. Those empty stores of magicules
wouldn’t rebuild themselves in two or three days. After
Walpurgis, he’d have all the time in the world to snare him.
And if all else fails, I can simply send Milim after him.
For now, though…
It was time to concentrate on the Council.
Or perhaps, if Clayman hadn’t been over-reliant upon
Milim’s strength…he might have noticed all the points that
didn’t quite add up.
The fact that there wasn’t a single enemy casualty yet.
The force, reportedly scattered all across the Beast
Kingdom, was now gathered together. Both pieces of
information were too important for someone as careful as
Clayman to overlook. But it wasn’t Clayman on the ground
—it was Yamza. And Clayman’s mind was too full of the
upcoming Council to notice. That was how vital this
Walpurgis was.
Out of nowhere, Ramiris—a demon lord who preferred to
remain incognito, cooped up in her labyrinth, most of the
time—asked for Rimuru, the subject of the meeting, to be
extended an invite as a supplementary condition. Clayman
hadn’t accounted for that possibility; it prevented him from
making a snap judgment. But as he groused over it, the
others quickly agreed to the suggestion, making it
impossible to stage any resistance.
Still, this could lead to good things for him.
It’s better this way. Now we’ve unmasked Rimuru’s true
nature. I was almost fooled into believing that he leveled
the Farmus military by himself…but there’s no hiding the
truth.
Clayman grinned. If Rimuru was joining the Council, he
should consider himself welcome. There, before all the
other demon lords, he’d know exactly how powerless he
really is.
A mere slime, borrowing the majesty of a dragon for his
boasts! I hope you consider it an honor to be crushed by my
own hands!
He went back to fantasizing about his own future glories.
And that was why he missed it. Those small yet glaring
inconsistencies out on the battlefield.

“…You be careful, too, okay, Clayman? Now’s not the

time to be too reckless.”

His friend’s words flashed across his mind. Now, a small

sense of unease was taking root. The nagging feeling that
he had missed something. But he laughed it off.
Don’t you worry, Laplace. I will win this…
He drained his wineglass, as if to wash the anxiety away.

It was with a somber gloom that Frey prepared for the

Council. Things were in a constant state of flux. The original
plan had all but gone by the wayside. She didn’t expect any
of this, and now it was all too unclear how things would
shake out.
But she wasn’t nervous. She was aware of her limits, and
she always made decisions based on cold, hard facts. That
was how the Sky Queen always acted. If all went well, then
fine. If not…she would have to prepare to make the right
move herself.

It all began with a certain promise. In order to defeat

Charybdis, she had accepted an offer from Clayman. In
exchange, she agreed to take one request from him.
………
……
…
Several months ago, Milim visited Frey’s domain. She
didn’t exactly slip in unnoticed. There was a loud bang! as
she shoved the doors open and ran into the room.
Frey didn’t bat an eye. Milim always acted like this. When
she felt that massive aura—one Milim never bothered to
hide—she knew it had to be her.
“Hey, Frey! Beautiful day out, huh?!”
 She beamed at her, playing around with her beautiful
platinum-pink hair to show it off. Was Frey busy at the
moment? Who cares?
On Milim’s hand, however, was something new. Not a
ring—a brass knuckle covering her four fingers. It was
something far too boorish for most young women, but on
Milim, it couldn’t have been more perfect. It had a relief of
a dragon carved into it, half aglow in magical aura, and it fit
snugly in her clenched little hand.
“Mmmm, maybe a little too hot, though?” she said as she
fanned her face with one hand. It was obvious what she was
doing. She never gave a crap about the weather.
“Oh, Milim. Haven’t seen you in a while. You look like
you’re doing well. Did something nice happen to you?”
Frey had to take the bait. Otherwise, she’d have to put
up with this act for the next hour.
“Ooh, you could tell? Well, just look at this!”
She thrust her Dragon Knuckle–equipped hand in front
of Frey’s face, giving her a proud little eh-hem!
Frey glumly sighed. “Oh, wow,” she said, giving Milim
what she thought the girl wanted. “It looks great on you.
Where’d it come from?”
“Oh, you wanna know?” came the bashful reply. “Oooh, I
dunno if I can tell you or not… Hmm, ohhh, what should I
doooo?”
This I’m-the-best act was grating on Frey. Despite all the
years they had known each other, it still rankled her.
“Well, aren’t we friends, Milim? It’s all right to tell me,
isn’t it?”
Milim’s eyes sparkled. “Ooh! Oh yeah, we sure are
friends, huh?! Okay, I’ll tell you! To tell the truth—”
Now that Milim finally had the invitation she wanted, she
burst into a long story about the town of monsters she
visited. The self-aggrandizing tale went on for a while,
accompanied by several wardrobe changes from the new
clothes she picked up there. It gave Frey some pause. Milim
loved carrying on about herself all the time, but rarely to
this level.
Once the conversation died down a little, Frey realized
that now was the time to do the favor she promised
Clayman.
“Oh, right. You know, Milim, I actually have a present for
you, too. From friend to friend. Would you like to see it?”
She signaled to her attendants. They quickly brought
over a tray bearing a beautiful, shining pendant, perched
on top of purple satin cloth. An orb had been installed on
the pendant, a jewel that even someone who knew nothing
about precious stones could tell was worth a fabulous
amount of money.
“Mm? A pendant, huh? Can I have it? But that doesn’t
mean you can have my knuckle, okay?”
Frey chuckled. “That’s fine, Milim. Consider it a symbol of
our friendship. And as a friend, I hope you won’t be too shy
to wear it around.”
Milim gave a bright nod to Frey’s soft smile. “You got it!”
she chirped as she attached it to her clothing.

Forbidden magic: Demon Marionette launching…

Activated.

At that instant, the expression on Milim’s face changed.

Her eyes glazed over; the light of consciousness faded away
from them. With the magic in the pendant released, a
forbidden spell wormed its way into her.
This jewel was the Orb of Domination provided by
Clayman to Frey—and having Milim put it on was the
promised favor Clayman asked of her.
So there’s my promise. That takes care of my duty, but
what will Milim do…?
Frey observed the girl. She stood there motionless, face
a total blank. Then, for just a single moment, she felt like
Milim’s blue eyes looked at her.
There, at that moment, Milim knew something weird was
happening. Maybe… Yes. Indeed. I suppose it is, Milim…
The Dragon Knuckle fell out of her fingers, clunking on
the ground. Frey looked at her and sighed.
“I’m done, Clayman,” she called out to an empty corner
of the room. “Are you happy?”
“I am,” the Marionette Master replied, emerging from
the corner. “Well done, Frey. Now I’ve obtained the
strongest puppet there is! Ha-ha-ha-ha! This is what she
gets for picking on me, calling me a young upstart. Pathetic,
isn’t it, Milim?!”
He punched her as he laughed his nasal laugh. Her face
reddened, a cut appearing on her lips. The multiple layers
of Barrier protecting her were gone, meaning that even she
could be hurt now—especially if it was a demon lord like
Clayman doing the hurting.
“Shouldn’t you stop that?” Frey coldly commented as the
half-giggling Clayman prepared to land another blow. It
wasn’t a pretty sight to see, and besides—
“Pfft! This isn’t the sort of weak curse that’ll undo itself
after a punch or two. This is forbidden magic. It includes all
the magic force I can muster from my body. Don’t you
resent her at all, after the way she acted around all of us?
That’s why you joined me on this plan, is it not?”
“It’s not. I just fulfilled my promise to you.”
“No need to lie to her face like that, you know. This girl is
nothing more than a doll to us now. A pointlessly sturdily
made doll, I should add. We can just fix her before she falls
completely apart.”
The veins were visible in his eyes as he kicked Milim
away, Frey coldly watching the whole time. Such an
impertinent man. This is how you really are…?
It was at that moment when Frey abandoned Clayman
for good. Thus, she decided to act on her own instincts for a
change.
 “Listen, Clayman. Maybe you don’t know, but Milim
comes with a self-defense mechanism, all right? The way
she described it, at least, it’s called Stampede, and it puts
her in an uncontrollable state. You’re free to trigger that
and die if you like, but try not to take me with you.”
The words were enough to restore Clayman’s
composure. He resentfully groaned. “Psh. What a bastard of
a demon lord this is. Very well. Using her should give my
words a little more presence among us all. And you, Frey;
you’re a coconspirator as well. I’ll expect you to work for
me.”
“Oh? I thought we were equals.”
“Fool! I’m the one who came up with this plan. You’re
already one of my pawns. Or would you like to engage Milim
in battle?”
“…Are you threatening me?”
“Ha-ha-ha-ha! You can take that any way you like. But if
you don’t want to die, I’d suggest not angering me.”
It was classic Clayman—sometimes offering the carrot,
other times the stick, but always with a heaping helping of
arrogance. And it’s true; this was Clayman’s plan all along.
That, and it was his hint to Frey that Milim had a weakness
for the word friend. How he managed to learn that little
tidbit, she didn’t know, but all Frey did was keep her
promise—although she only did so because of one she firmly
believed in.
“…All right.”
“Good. Just don’t think about doing anything to betray
me. As long as you listen to my requests a bit, I will
personally guarantee your position as ruler of the skies.”
The escape route was cut off. Now Frey was Clayman’s
business associate—a fancy name for his puppet. All of this
happened several weeks before the Day of Ruin that visited
Tempest.
………
……
 …
Thinking it all over again, Frey sighed.
With Milim under his wing, Clayman was using her
overwhelming potential violence as a cudgel to coerce her
with. Now Frey was simply following orders, forced to do
his bidding.
She couldn’t help but laugh at how much she deserved
this. She felt like such a fool for believing him. But she also
had another thought. Clayman was a sly, conniving demon
lord, never one to play down, but he also tended to
overestimate his own powers. That’s why he never had a
perspective on the true essence of things. Frey, luckily, was
blessed with exactly those observational skills—not a “skill”
like breathing fire, but something she naturally picked up in
her relations with other people. The ability to see the kind
of truth that someone like Clayman, who treated people as
nothing more than useful tools, could never notice.
So, trusting her instincts, she made a bet. And no matter
how it turned out:
I don’t think you’ll be alive for much longer, Clayman.
She began going over the procedure to come. The
“promise” came to mind once again. It made her smile.

The frigid land was encased in howling snow and ice,

surrounded by frozen tundra. Temperatures stayed at well
below zero degrees Fahrenheit, driving away nearly all life.
In the middle of it all stood a tall, looming castle, a
beautiful, fantastical palace. A demon castle, one
materialized from an unimaginable amount of magical
force. It was called Icefayr Castle, and it was the domain of
the demon lord Guy Crimson.
 A calm, collected man strode along a corridor inside the
castle, his hair of platinum blond, eyes long and narrow.
Those blue eyes were a prominent feature of his chiseled
visage. His skin was fair, practically translucent, and his
beauty would almost make some assume he was female.
This was the demon lord Leon Cromwell, known
alternately as either the Platinum Devil or the Platinum
Saber, and he stalked the halls of this castle like he owned
them.
Ahead of him was a large door, decorated ornately by a
master woodsmith. It led to the audience chamber where
the master of this domain awaited. Leon was here to see
Guy Crimson, and as he stood before the door, two large,
heavy magic-born grunted and strained to open it up.
“The demon lord Leon Cromwell has arrived!”
A beautiful female magic-born beyond the door shouted
Leon’s name as he entered. There, he saw two lines of
powerful Greater Demons lining the way ahead on both
sides. Each one was a named demon, and each had been
granted physical corpuses for use in this world. All of them
were powerful beyond the definition of a Greater Demon,
easily surpassing what a high-level magic-born could
manage. They were also bedecked in a fine array of magical
equipment, each having evolved in their own unique ways.
They numbered two hundred or more in all, and some were
even calamity-class threats, rated Special A on the scale.
But not even these demons could defy the figures beyond
—the sheer overpowering awe exuded by the six demons
that surrounded the throne in the chamber’s midpoint,
under the watchful eye of Guy Crimson.
These were named Arch Demons, capable of subduing
even calamity-class monsters. If anything, they could be
defined as demon lords themselves.
Amazingly, not even these demon kings were allowed to
speak freely in this chamber—for there was a wall, an
impregnable force, that none of them could ever conquer.
 The green-haired demon that heralded Leon’s arrival
was soon joined by a demon with blue hair that guided him
down the aisle. She was gorgeous, the personification of all
human desires. Her graceful, wispy arms were hidden in
the sleeves of a dark-red maid’s dress.
The green-haired one was Mizeri, the blue-haired one
Raine, and they were the two pillars who stood on both
sides of the absolute ruler Guy Crimson, doing the speaking
for him. They were both Demon Peers, superpowered
creatures that each rated a disaster classification—the
equal of a demon lord.

Now Leon was at the throne. Mizeri and Raine nodded at

him, then took their posts beside Guy as the man on the
throne stood up. The only people in this room allowed to
move a muscle were the two demon lords.
“It gladdens me to see you, Leon,” he said in a clear voice
that carried across the chamber. “Doing well, I hope? I
appreciate your answering my invitation.”
His bloodred eyes had stars of gold and silver dancing in
them, and his wavy, burning hair was a deep shade of
rouge. He was about as tall as Leon, and while Leon was
feminine in his beauty, Guy’s was more prideful and distant.
He had an alluring sort of attractiveness, the look of one
born to lead—and conquer.
He walked down the steps from his throne as he greeted
Leon, bringing an arm to his chest and embracing him.
Then, without hesitation, he placed his hand upon Leon’s
face and kissed his lips.
Leon pushed him away, wincing. “Leave me,” he
complained, like he always did. He glared at Guy, looking
genuinely peeved. “I am not interested in other men. How
many times have I told you?”
“Ah-ha-ha-ha! Oh, you never were any fun like that,” Guy
gleefully replied. “I’d be happy to become a woman for you,
if you like. But very well. Let us change locations.”
He walked off, without waiting for a response. This, too,
was how it happened every time.

Considering the arctic region he lived in, Guy’s clothing

was quite unusual. He mostly had his clothes draped over
him, revealing a great deal of bare skin. To Guy, who never
felt the cold anyway, that was never an issue. He wore a
near-mystical smile to complement his bewitching beauty,
perhaps recalling the sensation of Leon’s lips against his—
and then a snakelike tongue licked his bright-red lips,
creating an eerie sort of irresistible allure.
 For Guy, who could adjust his gender at will, men and
women were both targets of his sexual appetite. He—or
she, depending—was Guy Crimson, demon lord, master of
this castle, and the oldest and strongest of demon lords. As
the Lord of Darkness, he was the sole and absolute ruler of
this blindingly cold continent.

Guy pressed on ahead, not bothering to guide Leon. Leon

followed behind, as if this was normal to him. No one else in
the audience chamber moved until they were both gone. It
was forbidden. They all bowed their heads to them, waiting
for their ruler and his guest to leave.
Once all were sure they were gone, Mizeri and Raine
stood before the rows of demons. And then, a single word
from Raine:
“Disperse.”
Then the two Demon Peers left, setting off to prepare tea
for their guest. They were the highest-ranked among all the
demons in this castle, but their sole occupation was to take
care of Guy Crimson. This work was prioritized above all
else in this domain—and so they quickly set off, not wanting
to attract their master’s ire.
………
……
…
Following Guy, Leon stepped into the ice terrace on the
highest floor of the castle. Despite being open to the
elements, not a single snowflake made its way inside. It was
a comfortable, fully air-conditioned environment, and since
Guy was wholly unaffected by the temperature around him,
he had set this up exclusively for Leon’s sake. He might
have been arrogant, but when it came to his friends or
those who recognized his authority, he took care of them
down to the last detail.
Musing about how little Guy had changed, Leon gruffly
threw himself down in his seat. It was made of ice but didn’t
feel cold at all. That didn’t faze him, nor did the way the ice
bent pliably under him, providing a soft cushion.
“So,” he asked, “what did you call me here for?”
An ice table appeared out of nowhere. Raine lined up two
cups of tea on it, as Mizeri soundlessly stood by the terrace
entrance. They were not to interfere with their masters’
speech, unable to speak themselves without permission.
This was not at all an equal relationship. Until ordered, they
could not even allow their emotions to be shown in public. If
they ever acted on their own without their master’s orders,
they would be provided with nothing but a quick death.
Even Demon Peers as powerful as them both were mere
tools before the demon lord. That was how strong Guy was,
and that was why they wouldn’t move even if Leon attacked
Guy right there. His rule was absolute, and worrying for his
safety was the height of disrespect. Their presences were
thus ignored as the conversation continued.
“Well, as you know, a Walpurgis Council is coming soon. I
thought I should implore you to attend, no matter how
inconvenient it was.”
“Oh? Rare of you to force anything upon me like that.”
“I know. Even if it means I owe you a favor, I want you to
participate.”
“…Why is that?”
“Ha!” Guy smiled, enjoying this. “Wary as always, I see.
Very well. Let me explain. It was Clayman who proposed
this one. A little man. But for some reason, Milim’s name
was among the cosigners. Milim is one of the oldest demon
lords, up there with me. She wouldn’t lift a finger for
someone the likes of Clayman. So I believe…”
“You believe that reports of Carillon’s death might not be
entirely true?”
“Oh, you know, do you?” Guy resented having his
thoughts guessed so easily.
Leon paid it no mind. “Clayman went too far,” he
continued. “He tried to harass me without leaving any
evidence behind, but I’m not letting it pass this time.
Whether Carillon lives or not, if Milim is taking action, that
is bad news.”
Guy gave this a relieved nod. “Hmm. I agree with you.
This might be just another game to Milim, but I don’t like to
see anyone tipping the balance of power among the demon
lords. It just gives me more work.”
Waiting to make sure Guy was no longer peeved, Leon
decided to tackle the question that interested him the most.
“So, Guy, do you think Milim is being controlled by
Clayman?”
“Thinking about Milim is pointless,” came the blunt reply.
“Someone like me is too intelligent to read the behavior of a
moron. That is one of my very few weaknesses.” He
shrugged and gave Leon a broad grin, then went back to
his first question. “But if you worry about it that much,
Leon, should I assume you will be participating?”
Leon could tell that dancing around each other like this
would lead them nowhere. “Yes, I intend to. I hate working
with others, but this time, I suppose I have no choice.”
“Oh? Well, very good. Before then, I was hoping we could
embrace each other in bed later this evening—”
“I have no interest in men. Or in women, unless they
strike my fancy. Besides, what benefit would embracing you,
as you put it, have for me?”
“You don’t have to start with that. If you wish, I would
happily take on a woman’s body for you…”
Guy slithered in for a hug. Leon, seeing it a mile away,
dodged it beautifully. One saw this little exchange between
them on regular occasions.
“By the way,” he said after it was clear Leon wasn’t
putting up with it, “it’s rather rare for Ramiris to provide
feedback to us one way or the other, but do you know
anything about this ‘Rimuru’ person?”
This was another topic of the next Walpurgis, something
everyone had an interest in since it’d mark the first new
demon lord after Leon.
“The way Clayman puts it,” Leon replied, “he’s just a self-
styled demon lord. Personally, if he has the strength to back
it up, I have no problem with him.”
“Ah. So you think Rimuru is qualified to be a demon lord?
I was just wondering, since Ramiris, of all people, is
involved. If someone’s piqued her interest that much, it
should be a lot of fun for me.”
Although this Walpurgis was convened by Clayman,
Ramiris had made the additional proposal of having Rimuru
himself attend. By Guy’s estimate, Ramiris must’ve had
something to say about Clayman’s actions here.
“…Ramiris? I have trouble dealing with that fairy. She
makes fun of me every time we meet. I’ve thought about
strangling her to death countless times…”
…But if it was Ramiris making this request, Leon had to
agree with it. He couldn’t help but feel like he owed that
much to her.
“Ah-ha-ha-ha! Better not. If you kill her, you’d be making
me your enemy, you realize.”
“I’m sure. I wasn’t being serious. Besides, there’s no way
I’d win in a fight against you.”
That was no lie. Leon was no fan of Ramiris and her big
mouth, but he didn’t actually mean her harm. And to be
honest, he had no hope of beating Guy. They were both
equal in demon lord rank, but the difference in strength
was like night and day. Leon was closer to Mizeri and Raine
than Guy on that score. There was just no comparison.
“Mm? I wouldn’t be so sure. Maybe you’d kill me one in a
million times?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not interested in a fight I’m not
guaranteed to win.”
“Quit being so modest. There aren’t many people who
could wound me. The mere fact that you have a chance of
killing me makes you more than strong enough, Leon.”
 “Pfft. The truth’s the truth. You and Milim are on a
different echelon from us. And speaking of that…”
Leon was reminded of something—the reported
resurrection of Veldora, the Storm Dragon. And when he
told that story, Leon managed to honestly shock Guy for the
first time in his life.

Just then, an icy, shrill voice echoed across the terrace,

cutting them off.
“Oh my. I am very interested in that topic.”
The voice was a perfect match for the beautiful woman it
belonged to. Her skin was like porcelain, her eyes a
fascinating sort of cold, glowing blue diamond in color. Her
pearl-white hair cascaded past her cheeks, where the light-
green shade of her lips drew the eye.
She was allowed to move and speak without Guy’s
permission, shining more beautifully than any crown jewel.
She was praised as the Ice Empress by some, but to the
rest of the world, she was known as Velzard, the Ice Dragon
—one of only four dragon types to exist, and the demon lord
Guy Crimson’s friend and partner. Just like Leon, she was
on equal footing with Guy.
“Ah, Velzard,” Leon said, dripping with sarcasm. “I
suppose there was a dragon type here, wasn’t there?”
“My, cold as always, aren’t we? But I’m glad to have the
chance to see you.”
“Are you? Well, it’s a great honor to have a glimpse at
your face.”
There was little real emotion behind this exchange.
“You never did get along with each other,” Guy observed
with a groan. Not that he had any interest in mediating.
Normally, this would kick off a series of back-and-forth put-
downs, but today Velzard changed the subject.
“So the topic you were discussing? Sir Leon, my younger
brother has awoken?” Her blue eyes were shining as she
asked for details on Leon’s big news. “You are sure of that,
Leon?”
“I stopped feeling his presence two years ago, so I
assumed he had met his end, but…?”
If Veldora had resurrected himself, it would’ve been
obvious. His massive, out-of-control aura would’ve changed
the world’s weather patterns. But none of that happened.
Guy and Velzard could be excused for their shock.
“It’s no mistake. A spy I sent to the Western Nations
reported as much to me.”
“Oh…? So why is that evil dragon acting so obedient?
Has he weakened to the point that he can no longer
replenish his magicule stores?”
“And who would’ve undone the seal placed upon him? I
don’t think he could’ve broken out by himself…”
The Hero had sealed Veldora away—and Velzard had
done nothing to save him from it. To her, this was a good
way to teach Veldora a lesson for all that selfish rioting. She
figured she would spring him out before he disappeared for
good, once he was a bit more mature. But then he really did
disappear, which perplexed her. It happened much quicker
than she anticipated.
“As the spy put it, Clayman’s scheming was the cause. He
had impressed upon the Western Nations, and the larger
kingdom of Farmus in particular, to defeat and destroy the
Great Forest of Jura Alliance this Rimuru character has
established. The results cost Farmus its entire military force
and caused Rimuru to place his hat in the demon lord ring.”
“You know much about this, Leon.”
“Of course I do. I’m a former human, unlike you. I’ve also
just recently learned that Veldora was apparently sleeping
right in the middle of the most intense combat. Just before
his soul disappeared for good, he was exposed to vast
amounts of blood, and it awoke him. That is the truth.”
The Farmus troops were subsequently massacred by his
rage, he went on to explain, although Rimuru escaped
injury.
“So that’s it? The seal just undid itself?”
“That much, I can’t tell you.”
Velzard nodded at this. Leon could be right, but a single
spy’s report wasn’t enough to make a policy decision from.
The Hero’s unique skill Unlimited Imprisonment encased its
target in a dimension of an imaginary number, shutting out
any access or interaction with the real world. But now
Veldora was exercising his presence here, once more?
“Perhaps the Hero’s seal wasn’t so complete after all…”
This made sense to her…before Leon corrected her.
“That’s possible, yes, but I have another theory. What if
someone swallowed Veldora up, seal and all, and placed him
in another subspace of their own making?”
Guy smiled giddily at this. “Ooh, I like that! So someone
did undo the Hero’s seal, then! The seal’s too interwoven
with the Hero’s own abilities to be undone by any normal
skill. Perhaps you or I could do it…but if this person exists,
then he must be as powerful as us. How fun!”
“It is just a possibility, keep in mind.”
“And you think this person might be Rimuru, Leon?”
“…Exactly.”
“I see, I see. Then we definitely do need to size this
person up.”
Now it made sense to Guy. No wonder Leon wasn’t
showing his typical reluctance to attend a Council. Clayman
was engaged in reckless violence; Milim was acting
unusually strange; Rimuru undid Veldora’s seal and
declared himself demon lord. What if all these events were
actually connected? At the very least, it’d make this
Walpurgis a hell of a lot of fun.
A longing smile erupted across Guy’s face. “You know,”
he whispered, “why Veldora is acting so obedient, then?”
“…I think he’s been weakened,” replied Velzard. “I’m
receiving only the tiniest of reactions from his presence.
Nothing like before.”
 Even as a fellow dragon type, Velzard had to concentrate
to receive even a weak blip from her younger brother. If his
energy had been drained, that would explain that.
“Strange that he hasn’t acted out at all, though. With his
personality, violence is practically what he lives for.”
Velzard was having trouble making sense of all this, too.
“Well, be that as it may,” Leon matter-of-factly replied,
“I’m not terribly interested in Veldora. If you want to try to
drag an old friend of yours back here, be my guest.”
While Velzard was family, and Guy had torn his hair out
figuring out what to do with Veldora in the past, Leon had
no connection to Veldora. As long as this dragon didn’t mess
with his domain, he had no intention of being involved.
That’s how dangerous Veldora was to him.
“Are you leaving?”
“Yeah. That’s all you needed from me, right?”
“Well, one moment. No need for all the rush. I wanted to
ask: Have you made any progress in pursuing your real
goal? You know, targeted summoning?”
Guy was referring to the experimentation Leon had spent
much of his life working on. He was just as interested in the
subject as Leon.
“…Not quite yet on that, no. I changed up my plan and
tried having them perform summons at random, but that
ended in failure as well. It just attracted too much attention,
you see. I brought the theory of ‘incomplete summons’ to
the Western Nations, but the Free Guild interfered with me.
It’s already a horribly inefficient way of going about this
business, and it’ll face another obstacle in the future. Once
it does, I’ll just have to find another way.”
To put it in an extreme way, Leon really didn’t care about
the Council or the new demon lord. He was simply trying to
pick out young weeds before they grew and got in his way.
“Obstacle?”
“Yeah. This one apparently saved the lives of some kids
who were just waiting to die. Before I could pick them up,
no less.”
“Ah. So they were forced into rescue before you saw any
results? And you’re sure you’ll continue being interfered
with?”
“Seems likely. He got angry about all these nations
summoning children, so he may start applying pressure to
each of them. So it’s time to clear out that experiment. If we
go any further with it, he’ll find out that I’m there, behind
the scenes.”
“Hmm. Could you perhaps rub out this hindrance?”
Guy hinted with his eyes that it’d be all too easy for Leon.
But his friend simply sighed.
“Well, this ‘hindrance’ is the exact Rimuru we were just
discussing.”
“What?! That’s no coincidence, is it?”
“Funny, isn’t it?” Leon nodded, face dead serious. “That’s
why I wanted to meet him for myself sometime.”
Of course, he still could’ve afforded to ignore this Rimuru
person, if only Ramiris hadn’t chosen to stick her nose in…
“All right. This seems to be getting more curious all the
time. Perhaps Milim is thinking along similar lines, too. She
may be a moron, but she’s got quite the instinct for this
kind of thing.”
“Perhaps. Tonight’s Walpurgis could be a rather raucous
occasion.”
“Hee-hee! No doubt about it.”
Leon and Guy exchanged smiles as the gentle blue eyes
of Velzard watched over them. They proceeded to chitchat a
little more before Guy changed the subject.
“By the way, I had been wondering about something else.
Who is this collaborator of yours providing your
information?”
“I don’t know much about him. He seems to be a human
from the Empire, and he calls himself a merchant.”
Summoning an otherworlder required vast amounts of
magical energy, exacting conditions, and convoluted rituals
to work. The pickier you were about who you summoned,
the longer you had to wait before you could attempt the
summon again. To get around this, Leon did some business
with this merchant, who then conducted the summons for
him.
“And this merchant can be trusted?”
“Trusted? Trust never needs to be involved. All I’m doing
is using him.”
“Ah. Well, if that’s fine with you, I have no complaints. But
be careful, all right? I don’t want you dying on me.”
“Heh. You, worried about me? That’s a rare sight from
you, Guy. But don’t worry. I have no plans to die until I’m
finished with my goals.”
“Again with those ‘goals.’ It’s that important to you?”
“It sure is. I’d put them ahead of well near everything
else in this world.”
“Hmm. I’m starting to feel jealous.”
“Don’t give me that nonsense. But I will accept your
warning. See you tonight.”
With that, Leon left the terrace. Guy refrained from
stopping him this time, as Leon left a single shining crystal
and used Spatial Motion to set off.

A pair of eyes watched him go.

“Talk about impatient. I know that’s how Leon is…”
Guy grinned a little as he spoke softly.
“It feels to me that Leon is leaving himself
uncharacteristically open to attack,” Velzard observed in
her icy voice. “He’s working with people without even
knowing who they are. Should I investigate for him?”
“Nah,” Guy replied, unconcerned. “Meddling in Leon’s
affairs would just offend him. I don’t want my friends to
hate me.”
To him, Leon was a trusted friend, someone whose
personality he was keenly aware of by now. He knew about
Leon’s talent more than anyone else. If Leon wasn’t looking
into his cohorts’ backgrounds, it must have been because
he saw no great need to.
“If he asks us for a favor, you can help him out then.”
“All right.”
And that was the end of their conversation.

Now the attendees of tonight’s Walpurgis were set in

stone.
Clayman proposed the Council; Frey and Milim signed on
to it. Ramiris, with her additional proposal, was also
attending, as was the homebody Leon.
Speaking of homebodies, there was another demon lord
whose location was a complete enigma. Guy had reached
out via their specialized demon lord connection, all but
demanding that one’s attendance.
Beyond that, there was his old friend Daggrull, along
with… Hmm. What about that other guy? He should be
coming. Daggrull promised to bring him along. And that
just left Guy himself. It’d mark the first Walpurgis in a while
to have all the demon lords show up, except for the missing
Carillon.
“It should be a fun one, for sure. You want to join me?”
“Hmm…” Velzard reflected on this. “No, I think I won’t.
Perhaps if my brother were there, but otherwise, I have no
interest in demon lords.”
“No? All right. Keep the lights on for me.”
“I would be glad to. Now, time to prepare.”
Velzard stood up, leaving Guy to brood over the
upcoming Walpurgis as he gazed at the aurora covering the
frigid land.

A demon lord working behind the scenes, head full of

schemes.
A newer demon lord, but one that could crumble at any
time.
An old friend who was starting to get surprisingly active,
considering he hardly left the house.
And then the potential birth of a new demon lord.

So exciting! His heart hadn’t sung like this for hundreds

of years.
He needed real change like this. Demon lords weren’t
friends; they were supposed to be competing with one
another. There was no artificial limit placed on their
number—there were times when a dozen existed at once,
even more. Whether it’s ten or a hundred, anything was
fine. If they weren’t strong enough, they’d get pushed out
of the picture the next time a Temma War came around,
every five hundred years.
It’s just that each time that happened, this new crop
would fight for a piece of the pie, and to combat this, the
maximum number of demon lords was finally set at ten. The
human world, once they became aware of this, started
calling them the Ten Great Demon Lords. Guy was firmly
against it, but it became a sort of tacit agreement among
them. The humans didn’t mind the demon lords picking one
another off until they were a more manageable number. Ten
was enough.
But Guy figured it was time to put an end to that. The
weak didn’t deserve the title demon lord. Perhaps it was
time for a new era of rule to unfold—one, he thought, where
real demon lords held sway.

Guy was one of the seven Primal Demons, and the first
demon lord to be summoned to this world as an Arch
Demon. Each of these demons had a primary color
associated with them, and his was Rouge.
He was an unnamed demon unleashed upon the world,
fulfilling the wishes of the powerless human who summoned
him and destroying a nation that the human was apparently
at war with. He followed that up by destroying his human’s
own nation as well. That earned him his name—Guy,
pronounced “ghee.” An unpleasant-sounding name, like the
shrieks of the doomed and desperate as he crushed them.
Upon being named, Guy realized he had awakened into
his new class of “true” demon lord. He thought it needless
at first, given that he believed he was already the strongest
out there—but this evolution also affected the Primal
Demons Vert and Bleu, summoned alongside him as errand
girls. They, too, were given physical bodies to work with, as
well as the brand-new class of Demon Peer.
On a whim, Guy decided to make them his servants and
gave them names. For Vert, Mizeri, reflecting the misery of
mankind. For Bleu, Raine, the rains of blood that fell
wherever he strode. They had been faithful to him ever
since.

Just after Guy awakened to demon lord-dom, another one

did the same. That was Milim, a girl conceived by a human
in this world and the first of the four dragon types that ever
threatened it. That dragon had paid for its strange dalliance
by losing the majority of his power to his own child. The act
had been reviled as taboo ever since.
Upon losing his power, the dragon type dispersed his
body, came to the surface to attain a physical form, and
became the founder of the dragons as they existed in this
world. This led to dragon types as being defined as the self-
sentient propagations of natural spirits, the prototypes, and
all the dragons that existed and thrived in the world came
from this first father—Veldanava, the Star-King Dragon.
One day, the Star-King Dragon gave his daughter a pet, a
young dragon that would serve as his next incarnation
someday. This “pet” was killed by a certain foolish kingdom
that ignited Milim’s rage, causing the very heavens to
tremble as the nation was destroyed. This made Milim
awaken, and the resulting new force sent her wholly out of
control, almost wiping all life away from the world.
It was Guy who stopped her. The battle took place over
seven days and seven nights, the most severe anyone had
ever seen, turning the bountiful fields of the west into an
utter wasteland.
In the end, no winner could be crowned. The battle
ended once Milim regained her senses. It was Ramiris who
did this, back then a leader of spirits who sacrificed her
own power to neutralize Milim’s rage. She paid a heavy
price for this. Being exposed to the auras of demons and
dragons sapped her force and made her fall to the world’s
surface, becoming a continually self-resurrecting fairy.
But it did the trick. It prevented the end of the world and
allowed Guy and Milim to come to an agreement.

These were the first three demon lords, and each had
their own goals.

One wanted to find the farthest reaches of power.

One wanted to live free from all barriers.
One wanted to promote balance in the world.

But that was fine. These differing goals were exactly why
they could see one another as equals.

The demon lord ranks were soon swelled by a giant

protecting the gates to heaven, as well as a vampire from
ancient times. A figure fallen from heaven became number
six. This was the second generation—not as strong as the
oldest but more than strong enough to rule over the world.
The giant’s body was too imbued with the holy element to
allow the seeds of demon lord-dom to take root, but he was
still so blindingly strong that he got in anyway—an unusual
path to take. The old vampire was shrewd, sly, and more
conniving than any of the others—although someone else
was currently occupying her seat at the Council for her.
The sixth one was interesting. Definitely strong, but
completely uninterested in the world. Laziness was the
watchword here. No doubt had the ability to rule the land
but probably still living just as “fallen” as ever somewhere.
Four out of the six demon lords at this point had
“awakened” to the job, apart from the giant and the fairy.
They had survived multiple Great Wars, polishing their skills
with each one—enough so to earn ultimate skills, like Guy’s
and Milim’s.
In addition to them, there was Guy’s friend, Leon. Leon
was a human and a former Hero. A unique upbringing led
to him picking up an ultimate skill, making him strong
enough even to satisfy Guy’s strict standards.
That made seven. And how many of this next Walpurgis’s
attendees would live up to the standard of these seven? Guy
couldn’t wait to see.

And then there was Clayman.

That fool thought he could rule over Milim. It was just too
hilarious. Guy could barely contain his laughter. That was
impossible. If Guy couldn’t do it, there was no way someone
like Clayman could. Lower-level skills simply didn’t work on
those who possessed ultimate skills. All the natural laws
that ruled this world were nothing more than unique cases
to them; they could easily nullify any magical attempt to
cloud their minds.
An elemental attack that struck at their weak points
might have some effect, yes. But mind-domination magic?
Out of the question. Anyone spineless enough to be ruled
over by conditions like that would never be able to obtain
an ultimate skill in the first place.
Ultimate skills, as the name implied, gave the wielder
ultimate power to control the very laws of nature. The only
way to counter an ultimate skill was with another ultimate
skill. That was the absolute, unbendable rule of this world.
Clayman couldn’t do a thing against Milim. Milim was just
having him dance on the palm of her hand.
What a fool…
Guy flashed a weak smile as he watched the events
unfold.

The era of weaklings styling themselves as demon lords

had come to an end. The fakers would get sifted out; the
generation of true demon lords would begin. Guy was sure
of it. He smiled.

And thus he set off for what was bound to be the most

chaotic Walpurgis in recent memory.
 CHAPTER 4

IN THE LAND OF DESTINY

So everything was set. After giving my final instructions to

Veldora, I waited for an envoy to direct me to the Council
site. I didn’t know where it was, so I’d be going along with
Ramiris—who, by the way, also didn’t know.
I asked why, and she had replied, “Because someone
always comes to take me there!” Which made sense, I
suppose, in its own way. The way she always got lost,
wherever she went, I guess it’s just a given that she had a
guide. If someone doesn’t really feel like memorizing a
route, they never will, no matter how many times they
repeat it.
Either way, I figured someone would be teleporting in to
guide us, so I decided to wait for that.

It was almost an hour before midnight when I was

contacted—not by an envoy, but by Benimaru.
“What’s up? Some kind of problem?”
I was expecting the worst, but Benimaru instead had a
request for me. Battle had just begun with the enemy, and
we already had a full gauge of their capacity.

The gifts Benimaru earned from my awakening had

upgraded his class to Oni. This was a type of spiritual life-
form, along the lines of the dryads—Benimaru, in other
words, had reached the same lofty heights as Treyni.
Shuna, Soei, and Hakuro were all Onis as well, which put
them about as high up on that ladder as you can go.
This was wonderful, but the issue was the skill Benimaru
obtained. The unique skill Born Leader was geared toward
granting enhanced control over his powers, as befitting the
naturally aggressive Benimaru. No matter how much of it
he unleashed, he could keep himself from rampaging out of
control. Its secret lay in Compute Prediction, which could
fully read the flow of power in his body and prevent bursts
of waste.
It was also useful in battles between large armies, not
just in duels. He could sense the flow of power among his
forces, reading his chances for victory like a prophet. If
things were looking bad for his side, he could instantly send
orders to his forces and change his strategy. It was almost
like cheating. In a battlefield, the correct conveyance of
information meant everything, and this allowed him to
command his full army without a single miscommunication.
Right now, the combined forces of thirty thousand were
under Benimaru’s command, and he could move them as
smoothly and easily as his own limbs. These thirty thousand
elites were no also-ran army, that’s for sure.
What’s more, the Born Leader skill also came with the
Inspire Forces effect, adding bonuses to the forces he led
that boosted their power by some 30 percent or more. That
meant the entire army was nearly a third stronger. We
weren’t losing out in troop numbers; we had better-quality
fighters… We weren’t disadvantaged in any way. If we could
get that bonus, too, then hell, all the better.

And with all of that, Benimaru could see from the start
that victory was ours. Once he did, he had a bright idea for
a new strategy.
(…So that’s why I wish to attack the main enemy force.
Soei’s ready to go as well, and so I thought that, if
Clayman’s castle is indeed beyond that cloud, we might as
well lay waste to it, too.)
That Benimaru. Brimming with confidence.
(Isn’t that dangerous? You’ve only barely begun fighting.
We don’t know how this’ll turn out yet…)
(We’re fine. I am stationed over here. It would be Soei
and Hakuro striking the castle…)
(Wait, my brother!!)
Shuna had interrupted our Thought Communication as
she was preparing some tea. Um, this was supposed to be a
secure line? She broke in there a little too easily for my
tastes.
(Er, hello, Shuna. What did you want?)
I could hear Benimaru’s voice jump several octaves.
(Don’t ask me what I want, my brother! The demon lord
Clayman is dangerous! He has the power to bend people’s
minds! If Soei or Hakuro fell victim to that…)
(No, they’d be perfectly fine against—)
(You can’t!! If you insist on sending them in, then I’ll join
them!)
Whoa, whoa. Shuna’s usually a lot more chill than this.
What’s gotten into her?
Benimaru and Shuna continued to argue as I sat there in
shock. As my friend in my previous life put it, there’s no way
a man can ever win against his younger sister. Benimaru
was no longer brimming with confidence at all. The all-out
assault from Shuna sent him reeling.
The next thing I knew, Shuna was beaming at me. “All
right, Sir Rimuru! Give me your orders to move out!”
Um, how do I respond to that…?
I didn’t want to send Shuna anywhere lethal, but she did
have a point. No matter how unlikely, I’d never want Soei to
be thought controlled. I wanted to keep them from doing
anything dangerous, but taking a castle to rob the enemy of
an escape point was a classic strategy. With Clayman gone
for the Walpurgis Council, now would be the perfect
opportunity.
Still… I mean, as long as I made sure Clayman didn’t get
away, we’re good, right? And it’s not like I wanted to kill
every single one of the magic-born working for him.
(…You have nothing to worry about, Sir Rimuru,) Soei
chimed in. (I promise I will keep Lady Shuna safe.)
(And with me around,) Hakuro added, (it will be no
problem to at least peek into the enemy’s stronghold. They
might be holding Lord Carillon there. I feel we need to
investigate.)
My Thought Communication was getting worryingly busy.
Shuna must’ve recruited them both to convince me. It was
rare for her to act so selfishly, so I could understand why
they wanted her to have her way this time. The fact Carillon
was last seen being taken in the direction of Clayman’s
castle also intrigued me.
“I am terribly angered by all this, Sir Rimuru. It is hard
for me to contain my feelings. What Clayman has done is
unforgivable!”
Dahh… Yeah, I get that. I know I’m not the only one who
felt a little helpless against him, back there. And I can see
how Shuna would resent being left waiting around on the
home front.
(All right. I’ll let Shuna join in. But Soei and Hakuro, I
want her safety to be job one for you. And if their HQ has
more defenders than you predicted, put safety first and just
bring back intelligence for me. Even if you discover
Carillon, don’t reach out to him unless you’re sure it’s safe.
Got it?)
(Thank you for accepting her request.)
(I will be fine,) Shuna replied. (I can simply teleport out if
something happens.)
(Indeed.) Hakuro laughed. (If anyone might be taking
their sweet time in there, I imagine it would be me.)
(All of us have resistances to spirit-based attacks,)
pointed out Soei, (so I imagine we will not waste much time.
And with Lady Shuna there, there is nothing to be
concerned about. If we do discover Lord Carillon, we will
think over matters then.)
That put my mind at ease a little. Certainly, with Shuna’s
unique skill Parser, she’d be able to identify any attacks
aimed for her mind—and with Spatial Motion also in her
arsenal, I didn’t see that much to worry about. She didn’t
have that much magical energy to tap, but the skills in her
quiver were excellent.
Soei was right about Carillon as well. He might not be
there at all, so there was no point harping on the issue.
(All right. You have my permission, then, but always
make sure you’re on top of the situation over there. Just in
case, I’ll have you begin operations at midnight, just after
the Walpurgis Council begins.)
(((Yes sir!)))

So now I had a three-member team attempting to infiltrate

Clayman’s base of operations.
It was just before midnight now, so I decided to take a
moment to ask Veldora about the demon lords. “I have no
interest in such little gnats,” he began (of course), but he
still had a fair amount to say about them all—except for
Leon, who ascended to the role after he was sealed away.

Given his penchant for violent rages across the

countryside, Veldora had fought against a demon lord or
two in his time. Around two thousand years ago, he
attacked and destroyed a city of vampires, which naturally
earned him the anger of legions of those creatures—a chase
he apparently loved. One of them, a female vampire, was
particularly beautiful (and beautifully dressed) and boasted
strength beyond all her peers. When the dust finally settled,
her cadre of vampires disappeared from the scene, and
Veldora didn’t know what had happened to them.
“What was her name…? I believe it was Lu, erm, Lurus?
Or Milus? Regardless, I never treated her that seriously, but
she was a rather challenging plaything for me, so I would
be wary around her. She can’t take a joke, do you see?”
I think that was more Veldora’s fault than hers. Anyone
would be a little pissed off after their homeland was burned
to embers. Of course, that was millennia ago; maybe she’s
mellowed.
“Ooh,” interjected Ramiris from adjacent to me, “didja
know that guy Valentine’s a demon lord now, too?”
This Valentine had apparently taken over the original
one’s role about 1,500 years ago. I can only hope time’s
healed wounds between these vampires and Veldora.
Daggrull, the demon lord giant, was another keen rival of
the dragon’s. They had tussled several times, with no clear
victor ever being crowned, and if Veldora bothered to
remember his name, he must’ve been a pretty mean match.
This guy had the power—or the guts, at least—to take on a
dragon type. Probably a standout among the demon lords.
Better watch for him.

Our conversation moved on to the topic of demons.

Veldora had apparently dispatched several groups of
demons in his time—a practice he found fun, since even if
you incinerated them, they always resurrected to an even
stronger form over time. A bunch of great playmates for
him, really.
Not even he had fought the lord of these demons,
however. This king held his domain in a castle on the frozen
tundra of the northern continent, a place so frigid that he
never bothered to make the trip.
 “It is far too cold up there! What’s the need for me to pay
a visit? Kwah-ha-ha-ha-ha!”
That sounded pretty evasive to me, but he refused to give
up any more details. No need to think about that now,
though. It would be going pretty far out of his way to storm
the place.
“Yes, well, Guy isn’t any pushover,” Ramiris observed.
“Me, him, and Milim are the oldest demon lords you’ll ever
find!”
That’s doesn’t mean much coming from Ramiris.
Suddenly Guy sounds like nothing special at all. But ah
well. I’ll back-burner this guy.

So how many demon lords does that leave remaining? I

had already met Milim, Ramiris, and Carillon; we had just
discussed Valentine, Daggrull, and Guy. There was Frey, the
one who Phobio said had dealt the decisive blow to Carillon.
There was Leon to think about, along with my current
target, Clayman. So one more…
“Mm? I couldn’t say.” The allegedly sage Veldora was
useless.
“Oh, you must mean Deeno!” Ramiris cried. “He’s even
more of a goof-off demon lord than I am!”
I suppose he and Ramiris were two peas in a pod, then.
“We are not!”
I’ll just ignore that.
So that’s ten, some of whom had a bone to pick with
Veldora. I’d need to keep that in mind as we discussed
matters. Many seemed far more capable of defending
themselves than I thought. Using this wimp Ramiris as a
baseline could land me in deep trouble—maybe it was
better to assume Milim was par for the course with them.
Even after my evolution, I was leery about my chances of
beating her in battle. We had sparred a few times, but she
wasn’t being at all serious about it. I needed more data. In
sparring mode, I could totally take her on now, but I
couldn’t be cocky until I knew what she was more fully
capable of.
I still couldn’t believe that Milim de facto approved of
rubbing me out. There’s got to be something behind that.
She’s not the type to backstab her friends or be mind
controlled like that, and there was never gonna be any
negotiating with her. There had to be some reason—a
reason of her devising, too.
…Well, no point dwelling on it. I’ll figure it out when I
see her.

As we talked, I felt a wrinkle in space erupt out of

nowhere. Here comes our ride, I thought as this huge,
bombastic, ominous-looking gate appeared. Pretty fancy.
Me, I usually just kind of ripped a hole in time and space, so
maybe I could learn from this. Once I had a concrete image
in mind, it’d be easier for me to whip up a gate like this next
time and teleport through it.
Regardless, the door opened, revealing a green-haired
woman in a dark-red maid’s outfit. She bowed her head
toward Ramiris. “I have come to take you, Lady Ramiris.
And is this your guest? I’ll be happy to guide you together.”
Then she stood by the gate and lowered her eyes,
eliminating her presence as much as possible. A well-
trained pro at the servant biz, it felt like.
But something concerned me. She was exuding just as
much overpowering force as Diablo at his best. She was a
demon, a high-level one. Regular demons could only climb
so high up the latter. No matter how long-lived they were,
an Arch Demon was about the most they could hope for.
Anything beyond that required a certain trigger…which, in
the case of Diablo, was me naming him. This let him break
out of the base demon framework entirely, evolving him
from an Arch Demon to a so-called Demon Peer.
 “Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh. I have no interest in strength,”
he had said at the time, “but now I see there is always
something higher to strive for. Perhaps I should try to make
more of an effort at this?”
He had “no interest” in strength, but he had a hell of a lot
of interest in fighting. As he put it, he had been too content
with himself before, since becoming too strong would
squeeze all the fun out of battle. Was he kidding with me?
Because if he wasn’t, that’s just scary.
And now I had this other Demon Peer here, this maid. Or
more like a maiden messenger from the underworld, I
suppose. With the kind of anime and manga I consumed
way back when, a maid was more a type of battle unit than
anything—and with her being a Demon Peer and all, she
was clearly one deadly woman.
“Oh, hey! Haven’t seen you in an age, Mizeri! How’s Guy
doing?”
Ramiris clearly wasn’t afraid of her. In some ways, it
made her even scarier.
“…It is not upon me to worry about the condition of my
master…”
“Ah. Haven’t changed a bit, have you? Well, that’s fine.”
She fluttered her way into the gate, the rest of us
following behind. We had to hurry, or else we’d get shut out.
If I wasted any more time here steeling my resolve and
wound up missing my ride there, I don’t know how I’d ever
explain that to Benimaru and the rest.
So this maid Mizeri works for the demon lord Guy? The
lord of the demons, and one of the oldest demon lords to
boot. If he recruited Demon Peers as doormen, that said a
lot about his power. Probably shouldn’t try riling him,
then…unless the times called for it.
But having someone as strong as Mizeri do this kind of
low-end work? Talk about arrogance. Here I thought the
demon lords were all I had to worry about. So much for
that. Maybe I should’ve taken Diablo along after all, even if
he and Shion would’ve gone out of control with each
other…
Well, it’s too late for second-guessing. Time to put up or
shut up. The world’s rulers are waiting for me beyond—but
I didn’t feel scared. That’s because I was one of them. One
of the strongest in the world. If anything, I felt cool as a
cucumber as I crossed the door.

Benimaru grinned broadly as he surveyed the battle

unfolding below him.
It was all going according to plan. The enemy had been
lured, like clockwork, right into the traps Geld set—which
could have been predicted, given how lightly they had
treated the Tempest side.
“Sir Rimuru was right,” he said to himself, pitying his
foes. “If they’ve set the table this kindly for us, it would
almost be more difficult to lose.”
They could pull this off thanks to the perfect control he
had over his armies, but Benimaru didn’t think it that
impressive of a feat. As he said, they had caught Clayman’s
forces comically off guard—they expected their numbers to
overwhelm Tempest, after all. They had pursued the fleet-
footed beastman fighters that had posed as refugees, and
now they were completely cornered.
Alvis flew up to the point in the air Benimaru chose to
watch events from. “It appears to be decided,” she
observed, quietly flapping her wings so as not to break
Benimaru’s train of thought. “By this point, I see no way for
the enemy to recover itself.”
“Ah, Lady Alvis.” He turned his crimson eyes to her.
“Enough of that blather. We haven’t won anything yet.”
“Please, Sir Benimaru, Alvis is fine…”
“You are not subordinate to me,” he coldly refused.
 “No, perhaps I am not, but we beastmen have given up
our command to you for the moment.”
Benimaru nodded his understanding. “Very well. For this
battle, at least, I will appoint you as my aide.”
“I appreciate it, Sir Benimaru.”
Now—in name, at least—Benimaru had command of this
combined force. With the supervisor of all Eurazania’s
armies officially declaring herself below him, Benimaru was
now officially supreme leader of the entire show. There was
no defying the supreme leader; in the world of monsters,
the strongest called the shots.
“…But despite appointing you my aide, I’m not sure there
is much left to do, is there? I am keeping a steady watch on
matters, but victory is imminent.”
“I agree with you. However, I do sense the presence of
several strong members on their side.”
“True,” the unwavering Benimaru replied. “Once the
outcome is set in stone, I will send Geld’s troops their way.”
“Hold on,” Sufia interjected. “I want to join in on that!”
“Yeah,” Phobio added. “I don’t want you hoarding all the
action, Commander. This is the land of beastmen—our land.
If we leave it all to you, Lord Carillon’ll chew us out for it.”
“He’s right! If you’ve left us to ensure everyone is safe,
you could at least let us handle this battle.”
“Sir Benimaru,” said Alvis, “I leave command of the
armies to you. Please allow us to target and defeat the
ringleader of the enemy force!”
All three bowed their heads to him. Benimaru greeted
this with a clicking of the tongue.
“So that’s why you made me commander?”
“Oh, how do you mean?” Alvis replied, playing dumb.
“…Very well. I was planning to have you join the fight
anyway. However, if you feel you are about to lose, retreat
at once. With some of their fighters, arrogance could be
your downfall.”
He had a point. Several members of Clayman’s force
remained question marks. Depending on who was paired
with whom, things could become dicey in the battle ahead.
But, Benimaru thought as he boldly smiled to himself, I’m
always here. As long as I can detect when we’re in danger,
we will not lose.
Each of the Lycanthropeers already had their targeted
prey in mind, sharpening their claws and letting their proud
animal instincts run wild in pursuit of these loathsome
interlopers.
The trap would go off in another few minutes.
“…I wanted to ask you something else,” Alvis said as she
waited. “What will we do with those caught in our trap?”
“Kill them all, is what I would like to say…” Benimaru
thought for a moment. “But I would like to leave judgment
on that to you beastmen.”
“Meaning?”
“Take anyone willing to cooperate with us prisoner. Sir
Rimuru is a generous leader, despite appearances. He is not
a great proponent of genocide, although he’ll gladly carry it
out if they take any of our lives.”
“…I see. In that case, let us decide how to deal with the
prisoners later.”
“Certainly. That is fine. I imagine Sir Rimuru probably
pictures them as a potential source of labor.”
“…Oh?”
“You are going to rebuild your capital, aren’t you?”
Benimaru casually asked. “The more able workers, the
better.”
“You’ll do that much for us?!”
Alvis, along with her two cohorts, was shocked. Rimuru
not only took victory almost as a given; he already had the
script written for what came next.
Where does that confidence come from?! We’re fighting
the closest companions to the cunning, deceitful Clayman,
and yet…
The biggest surprise of all, though, was fighting this on
the assumption that they’d take prisoners. In this world, it
was far easier for most people to kill in battle rather than
capture. You would never find a commander who’d care
whether a force was partially surrendering before doing
them all in with ranged magic. The idea of using prisoners
as a labor force had never occurred to anyone before.
This shook the Three Lycanthropeers to the core. It
meant that the magic-born working under Rimuru never
even considered the possibility of defeat. They went into
this fight backed by an absolute confidence in their victory.
“Well,” Benimaru added with a laugh, “assuming our
strategy goes to plan.” It only terrified the beastmen more.

And then the battle began.

(Everything to plan, Soka.)
(Understood, Sir Benimaru.)
With that short exchange, the Clayman force
experienced its first casualties. They were about a hundred
magic-born, led by a named one of some renown, but they
all died at once, their magical cores plucked out by Soka
when she appeared out of nowhere. The four team
members working under him were already busy taking
down the other squad captains of Clayman’s army, only
striking those targets they were absolutely sure they could
defeat. That was Benimaru’s order, and they followed it to
the letter.
The result: The enemy’s chain of command was
pulverized. Orders from above were no longer making it to
the foot soldiers.
“This is a trap! The beastmen have surrounded us!”
“That’s crazy! How could they—?”
“Retreat! We have to regroup our forces!”
By the time they noticed, it was too late. Unlike a human
army, monsters tended to over-rely on their own strength
and bravery; a leader to guide their instincts was
indispensable. Without them, Clayman’s army was doomed
to fall to pieces.
(Geld, you may begin.)
(Yes sir!)
His orders given, Geld called out the signal.
“Start it now!”
“““Rahhh!!”””
The next moment, the ground caved in, swallowing up
the enemy forces. Tempestians gifted in controlling the
earth had unleashed their magic. This natural-looking
stretch of land was actually pockmarked with pit traps, an
illusion created by their skills.
Only monsters with the power of flight could escape, and
even those were quickly picked off by avian beastmen and
Gabil’s Team Hiryu. The ones who were caught found
themselves in a cavernous underground hollow, the soil
liquefied beneath. They were unhurt but buried up to their
waists, unable to move.
These were monsters, of course; some used magic or
skills to wriggle out of this mousetrap, falling over their
weaker companions to reach solid ground again. But the
plan accounted for this, too. It helped thin out the crowd.
The stronger ones among the force were killed without any
chance to resist; the weaker, seeing this, had their hearts
crushed. The survivors would know all too well where they
stood strength-wise, likely losing their will to fight. The pit
trap was set up entirely to procure pliable prisoners, willing
to follow orders.

Ten or so minutes after the plan was launched, the battle

was already far too one-sided to offer any hope for a
turnaround.
“This… This many?”
Benimaru had a bird’s-eye view of over ten thousand
Clayman soldiers, cut off and plunged into the pitfalls.
Geld’s Yellow Numbers were patrolling the edges,
surrounding all the holes at regular intervals and taking out
the magic-born who managed to claw their way up. The
enemy forces were outnumbered, and any unexpected
shows of strength were handled with Tempest’s superior
numbers and equipment. Even the most powerful magic-
born could be taken out by a handful of beastmen or Team
Kurenai. Most of Clayman’s force had marched into what
appeared be a flat field; the remaining several thousand
were holed up in the rear, but they weren’t enough to
change anything.
“We won,” Benimaru matter-of-factly whispered.
“Truly, an amazing show,” marveled Alvis.
“Heh. We were bound to win. That was why we couldn’t
afford to let our guard down. I have my own work to do
now. Alvis, Lycanthropeers, you are free to do as you like.
Take the heads of the enemy leaders!”
“That’s what I’ve been waiting for, man! I’ll be back!”
“Now we can finally have some fun! I can smell the
bastard who defied me before. Think I’ll go after him first!”
“I suppose I will join them, too. The rest is up to you, Sir
Benimaru.”
The commander nodded, face pointed straight ahead.
“Go!”
“““Yes sir!!”””
With that, the three warriors sprang into action.

Sufia tore across the sky, faster than wings could take her.
This was Skywalk at work, an Art only a small handful of
magical creatures could wield, but Sufia used it like second
nature.
She was headed for a small group at the very far end of
the battlefield, unarmed and looking out of place. They
were priests, led by Middray of the Dragon Faithful. She
didn’t know them, but Sufia’s animal instincts told her that
these were the strongest forces the enemy boasted.
As she sped forth, she heard the voice of Gabil,
commander of the skies. He, and the hundred members of
Team Hiryu, were following her.
“Gah-ha-ha-ha! Let me give you a hand, Lady Sufia!”
“Ah, Gabil.” She smiled a beautiful, heroic smile. “Sorry,
but you might be left with the short end of the stick here.”
“Wah-ha-ha! Not a problem for me. We’ve taken care of
most of the aerial forces, and I wouldn’t want to take any
more work from the flying beastmen. Where are the
enemies that lie between us and victory?”
“Ha! Victory is ours, yes, but I think we have to put down
the people in the back, just in case things go haywire on
us.”
“Right. I hear you loud and clear! You get that, men?!”
“Understood, General!”
“As long as you don’t screw up, either, General!”
Gabil snarled at his dragonewts. Their exchanges usually
went something like this. Sufia chuckled at it a bit before
focusing her lethal energies on the target ahead.

Middray had set up camp in a safe spot toward the rear…

although it wasn’t a “camp” so much as a completely
different location, a medic facility built by the supply team.
He hadn’t asked for this battle, but being so belittled by the
force all this time made him feel too embarrassed to face
Milim again.
Lady Milim will surely deride me for this, too…
The thought concerned him enough that he demanded to
be stationed on the front lines. That request was turned
down by Yamza, who certainly didn’t do it out of concern for
Middray’s safety—he just didn’t want anyone else horning
in on his upcoming glory.
 Still, victory was all but guaranteed today. Their force
was three times the size of the enemy’s, which was not at all
a coherent fighting unit. They were being forced to retreat
while guarding a large crowd of refugees, rendering them
incapable of any counterattack.
It’s more dishonorable, if anything, to attack an opposing
force like this…
Such was the thought in Middray’s mind in the days
leading up to this clash. Things, however, did not quite work
out that way.
“We might be in trouble, Father. The battle’s all but lost,
isn’t it?”
“Mm… They are weak, Hermes, too weak. I had no idea
the demon lord Clayman’s soldiers were this incapable…”
“They aren’t, Father! The enemy just had the superior
strategy!”
“What? Don’t be stupid. We should have the power to
force our way right through any of their silly tricks! If that’s
the weak excuse you have for this, I’m disappointed in you,
Hermes!”
“Look, if this was just a one-on-one duel, that’s one
matter, but in mass combat like this, the quality of your
army’s command is what decides the day! That, and how
well you can catch the enemy unawares. Today, that was the
opposing side. They hid their war power until the last
moment and even sprang a trap on us.”
“Pfft. I can see that much!”
Middray was never one to use his head very much.
Hermes had a habit of bringing up all these meddlesome,
annoying topics with him, just because he happened to be a
little smarter, and he never liked that much. Now, however,
even Middray could see that there was nothing he could
retort with. The scene presented to him was all the
evidence Hermes needed.
“But, Father Middray—”
“I know. The fighters headed our way… They’re powerful.
As much as I hate to say it, we are standing in the midst of a
battlefield. If they’re coming for us, I say we come for
them!”
“So it goes, does it? Very well, then…”
Hermes reluctantly agreed as Middray next to him began
to burn with a desire to fight.

Here, in the rear of Clayman’s forces, was fought the

most intense and ferocious of the day’s conflicts.

Landing on solid ground, Phobio silently ran forward.

Discovering a group hiding in the shadows behind the
battlefield, he stopped right in front of them.
There stood a man wearing a mask of anger and a girl
wearing a mask of tears. This strange duo was Footman, the
Angry Jester, and Teare, the Teardrop Jester; both members
of the Moderate Jesters and both here observing the battle
by Clayman’s request.
“Hey,” Phobio quietly said, holding back his rage. “I owe
you one from last time.”
Footman’s eyes twinkled ominously beneath his mask.
“Oh-ho? Well, well, if it isn’t Sir Phobio!”
“Sir Phobio,” Teare said in a chiding, singsong voice as
she traipsed around him. “The beastman who could never
quite become a demon lord! Sir Phobio, the one who lost to
Milim! Thank you so much for helping us out then!”
“Heh. Glad you still remember me. It’d be a shame if I
killed you when you had no idea why you deserved it!”
“Ooooh? What’re you angry about?”
“How odd. What could this fool be so livid for? Those
raging emotions are so delectable, but there’s no reason for
us to die here.”
 “Oh, not at all, not at all!”
“Shut up! Maybe I was a fool for letting you trick me, but
a fool like me doesn’t need a reason to ask for a little
payback from you guys!”
Phobio broke out his sharp claws. Teare and Footman
were unmoved.
“Hmm? You want to go with us? You shouldn’t push
yourself like that. You’re too weak for that!”
“Hohhh-hoh-hoh-hoh! None of that, Teare. Sir Phobio
here is trying to make us laugh with this little joke of his.”
Neither could successfully rile up Phobio. More than
anything, he regretted letting his short temper steer him
straight to failure in the past. So, once the greetings were
over, he quickly stepped forward and instantly closed the
gap between them.
“Ngh…!!”
“Tch!”
Realizing their mind games had no effect against him,
Footman and Teare changed their approach. Things began
to move quickly. The air twisted around them, opening a
portal through which a man with the head of a wild boar
appeared.
“Long time no see, Footman. Remember me?”
“Hoh? Hmmmmm? Ah, the orc general? My, look at how
impressive you’ve become!”
Footman attempted to sound playful with the sarcastic
taunt, but the expression on his face indicated he was in
trouble.
Despite appearances, Footman was a coolheaded,
calculating type—a trait Geld was fully aware of. The jester
was with the forces that laid waste to the ogre village that
Benimaru and the others called home, and Geld knew his
powers were difficult to ignore. Footman was on a different
level from other magic-born, as far as Geld was concerned.
Plus, there was Teare. Footman’s peer in many ways. The
extent of her powers was an unknown, but she wasn’t one
to be underestimated. Phobio might have been the Black
Leopard Fang of the Beast Master’s Warrior Alliance, but
even with his strength, taking on Footman and Teare by
himself would spell trouble.
The beastman let the rage bubble within. Heh-heh… Well
done, Sir Benimaru. Not a disagreeable piece of prey at all!
The commander, overseeing the battle from the skies,
had ordered Geld to assist Phobio. He wondered why at
first, seeing as it meant Geld would abandon his command
post, but now he saw that Benimaru was right. The rest of
the battle had already been decided, to the point that even
Geld’s aides could handle it well enough. Only the top
leaders among the magic-born under Rimuru’s command
could handle two Moderate Jesters like this.
“Allow us to assist, Sir Phobio.”
“Ah, Geld. Thank you!”
Phobio wasn’t turning him down. Even here, he could
sense the difference in combat ability between him and this
pair. To him, the best path to victory was worth choosing
more than his own pride.

So began a smaller battle between two duos, in the

shadow of a small hill away from the battlefield.

The reports Yamza received from this battlefield bewildered

him. The overwhelming advantage he thought he had was
just an enemy trap all along.
He didn’t want to consider the thought of defeat. It would
obviously enrage Clayman. He had to find a way to turn this
around, to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat—but he
doubted he had the man power left to achieve it. He still
had enough of his wits to realize that, and now he had to
think of other forces he might be able to stir into action.

The five fingers, Clayman’s inner circle of associates, was

led by the middle finger, Yamza, the strongest magic-born
out of them all. Only Adalmann, the pointer finger, and
Nine-Head, the thumb, could compare with him.
Adalmann, head of the defense forces in Clayman’s
castle, began life as a wight, a deathly spirit who resided in
the Great Forest of Jura. He was a well-known bishop
during his living years, but that meant nothing now.
Clayman’s accursed magic had greatly boosted his power as
a monster, transforming him into a wight king that ruled
over the undead. The holy force he wielded when he was
alive had transformed into impure demonic power that he
used to curse the living.
But despite his vast strength, Adalmann had one
weakness—his lack of intellect. The only thing he could do
was follow his orders to destroy any intruders; that’s why
he wasn’t involved in this war.
Nine-Head, meanwhile, was a fox spirit, an extreme
rarity in her field. She was still young, just three hundred
years old, and only three of her tails had grown out. Her
magicule energy, however, was already well past Yamza’s,
up to the level of Clayman himself. She was with him now at
the Walpurgis Council, serving as his bodyguard, so Yamza
couldn’t tap her for backup, either.
It’ll have to be Adalmann, then…
The problem was how to call him over. Actually, no, it
wasn’t a problem. It would be simple to have him show up
right this instant. Yamza would have to then gather up his
surviving troops, flee back into Milim’s domain, meet with
him there, and go back on the offensive. That’s the best
approach, he thought. Walpurgis Councils had lasted
upward of a month in the past—if all went well, he could
wrap this whole thing up before Clayman came back. It
wouldn’t exactly be simple to make Adalmann move, but it
wasn’t impossible.
Either way, if he stood down and accepted defeat right
now, it was clear Yamza would be purged. Lord Clayman is
a vicious man. He would do away with me in no time—I am
sure of it… And even if I were lucky enough to survive, I
don’t want to turn into a soulless puppet. As much as it
vexes me, I must admit defeat here—but I will reign
victorious in the end!
Yamza turned his gaze toward the battlefield—and there,
he witnessed a sight that made him doubt his eyes.

In the front was a bewitchingly beautiful woman, her hair

a mix of blond and black. She held a golden staff and was
boldly racing across the land, as if no one was around her at
all.
Protecting her was a group of Carillon’s finest, the Beast
Master’s Warrior Alliance. They numbered only a few
dozen, but almost no one could defy them in combat, each
one bearing the strength of a thousand. There was Zol, an
elephant beastman; Talos, a bear beastman… They couldn’t
beat the Three Lycanthropeers, but they were all stout
fighters, worthy of serving under the great Beast Master.
They were also accompanied by a group in crimson garb,
using searing flame spells to burn away the supplemental
forces kept in the rear. They meant little to Yamza, but
there was no doubting they were ranked above the magic-
born around them.
Things had suddenly become very bad for him.

The unbelievable visitors deepened Yamza’s gloom.

“It can’t be… Why are the Three Lycanthropeers here?!
Have they abandoned their troops and come to provide
reinforcements themselves? But how could that…?”
He could hear the trusted magic-born around him
shouting. Agitation was in the air.
 “They’re pointing their greatest force toward our main
army?! What are the lookouts doing?!”
“Allow me to interrupt, sir! We can’t make contact with
our lookouts. Someone has killed them all!”
“What?!”
The enemy was moving so fast, they were completely
behind on dealing with them. By the time Yamza noticed
that, they were already lethally late. The realization made
the blood drain from his head. There would be no
regrouping now—even escape would be fiendishly difficult.
No. No, no, no, no, no!! I may not even be able to escape
here with my life!
Yamza began to panic. If this was one-on-one, he might
be able to deal with that, but he wasn’t self-absorbed
enough to think he stood a chance against a squadron like
this.
“Buy me some time! I will return to our homeland and
bring Adalmann back here. He can summon the dead to
restore our forces!”
It was just a pretext. He already knew all was lost, and he
had decided to run away, as fast as possible. Luckily, he had
only volunteered his fealty to Clayman, so his behavior was
not restricted the way it was with the other four fingers.
Following him any farther would be suicide, and that made
it easy for Yamza to sever all ties.
“Yes sir!”
“We can give you three hours, sir!”
His men each gave him stern, resolved looks that did
nothing to move his heart. All he could think about was how
stupid they were. The next moment, he chanted a
teleportation spell. But something was off.
“It’s…not working? Is this a…Spatial Blockade?!”
Yes. He was already too late. The moment Yamza and his
men saw Alvis, Alvis’s gaze landed on them as well, thanks
to the power of her skill Snake Eyes. It was an extra skill,
one that applied a large variety of ailments—paralysis,
poison, insanity, and so forth—and worked on anyone
caught in her line of vision. A tremendously useful skill, the
only way to escape it was by either successfully resisting it
or simply weathering it out.
And Alvis had another card up her sleeve—the unique
skill Oppressor. This spatial skill gave her the effects of
Mind Accelerate, Spatial Control, and Spatial Motion,
letting her impede enemy movement and give her allies
superior positioning.

A single motion from her was enough to neutralize all the

masses surrounding Yamza. The more weakhearted of them
were instantly driven mad; the stronger ones were still
paralyzed long enough for the poison to kill them off. Some
had even been turned to stone. Less than a hundred
managed to emerge unscathed. Before they could put up
any resistance, the unworthy had been denied even the
right to stand before Alvis.
Her Spatial Control had snuffed out Yamza’s magic,
having the power to both obstruct spells and fix their
spatial coordinates in place to prevent them from affecting
the air around the caster at all. No magical escape from this
area was possible now—“this area” being the range of
Alvis’s vision. The entire battlefield was now in her total
control. Such was the power of the Golden Snakehorn.

Realizing escape was impossible, Yamza gritted his teeth.

He still had a last resort. But it was a forbidden one, one
that he’d prefer not to use. Beyond that, the only path to
survival involved winning this.
“…So be it. Let’s show them what we’ve got.”
“Ah, Sir Yamza!”
“Sir Yamza at his finest could overwhelm even the Three
Lycanthropeers!”
“Let me join you, sir! Our fighting will surely please Sir
Clayman!”
His men were elated for the fight. Yamza found it
boundlessly foolish. The demon lord Clayman sought only
two things: victory and profit. He would never accept this
performance—wasteful attrition, followed up by total
defeat.
The only thing he believes in is pure, unadulterated
power…
No matter how faithful Yamza was to him, Clayman never
saw him as one of his own. He was just a useful pawn, a
talented minion; that was as far as the lord’s affection went.
The Ice Blade had been a gift, yes, but it was simply
provided in an effort to strengthen him. It was all for
Clayman’s sake.
Still, Yamza provided him with respect and reverence,
and the gifts he received in return helped. They both had a
common interest. But Yamza had no intention of offering his
life to Clayman.
…About time to head out. I have to survive this and
bounce back!
This failure would force him to go into hiding for a while.
But a Special-A talent like him, a giant among high-level
magic-born, would no doubt be picked up by another
demon lord before long, he thought.
(I like this,) he Thought Communicated to Alvis. (One of
the greatest magic-born under the Beast Master’s
command, part of the valorous Three Lycanthropeers. Are
you willing to duel with me?)
It was a risky bet. He wanted to defeat Alvis, the
strongest figure in the group, and crush the enemy’s will to
fight. Perhaps that would be enough to change the script—
and even if it didn’t end well, he thought it could give him a
chance to escape.
(Very well, Sir Yamza—head of the five fingers beneath
the demon lord Clayman. I will show you how far out of your
element you are!)
 This, Alvis thought, would prove once and for all where
Clayman and Lord Carillon stood with each other. She
promptly transported herself before him with Spatial
Motion, and in an instant, Clayman’s surviving servants
swarmed over her.
It was not what one would normally call a strategy.
Beastmen are mostly simple folk, easily provoked, and this
cowardly approach took full advantage of that. If they can
exhaust Alvis, even a little bit, that’ll make it easier for
Yamza to win—such was the reasoning behind this
kamikaze strike.
“You think those tricks will work?!” Alvis shouted as she
turned up the intensity on her Snake Eyes. To Yamza,
though, they had already done more than enough. That
single instant, when Alvis used her power, was the exact
thing Yamza needed for his assured victory.
“…Got you!!”
In a flash, he was upon her, slashing his sword at her
exposed back. And just before the tip of his blade reached
her body—
“Nuh-uh! Backstabbing someone like that’s not manly at
all!”
Someone had leaped straight out from Alvis’s shadow,
babbling to himself as he deflected Yamza’s sword.
“Dehh! Who’re you?!”
“I’m Gobta! We were hiding out just in case this
happened!”
As he explained that, more and more figures popped out
from the shadow. They were, of course, the Unified, four-
legged goblin riders, tapping their physical agility to attack
the magic-born that were still moving.
“And you didn’t tell me?” Alvis said. “I was wondering
why something didn’t feel quite right.”
She had actually noticed them all along. That was why
she was unafraid to go plunging in like this.
“Heh-heh! Benimaru ordered us to,” Gobta casually
replied as he fired off a Case Cannon bolt at Yamza. He
could tell the moment he crossed blades with him that this
wasn’t a battle for him to win. So while the commander was
distracted by his short sword, he thought now would be his
best chance. Gobta’s definition of fair and square differed a
bit from the norm—it was something he asked of his foes
but never followed himself.
Still, Yamza managed to deflect the blast with his sword.
“Out of my way, weakling!”
He pointed the tip of his blade at Gobta and cast a spell,
sending an Icicle Lance hurtling his way. Gobta simply used
his dagger to fire an Icicle Lance of his own—not to fire
back, but because he had planned for this follow-up strike
from the start. It wound up saving Gobta’s life, as the two
magic bolts met in the air and dissipated.
“That… That had as much force as this magic sword?!
And without casting? Cheeky little weakling, are we…?”
Now Yamza recognized Gobta as his foe—but Gobta had
already pretty well exhausted his arsenal. Uh-oh. I couldn’t
follow that counter of his at all. That ice just happened to
save me, but if he stabs me with that thing, I’m a goner.
Probably oughtta start runnin’, huh?
Fortunately, the goblin riders had already made their
contribution to this fight. No one would complain if they
retreated now. Gobta made up his mind.
“All right, let’s pull—”
But just as he began to make the order, Yamza’s sword
sailed right past his nose.
“Pyah?!”
In another stroke of luck, he had taken a timid step back
just in the nick of time. It made Yamza almost lose his nerve.
This little sneak made it past my attack three times? Three
in a row couldn’t be any coincidence, as he saw it—that
supersonic swipe he just made proved that the hobgoblin
before him was no also-ran.
“Heh-heh-heh… Oh, how the Lycanthropeers have fallen!
Sneaking their minions into a one-on-one duel!”
The boast, made with wide-open, bloodshot eyes, was
part of Yamza’s strategy. By his estimation, dealing with
both a Lycanthropeer and this mystery intruder at once was
dangerous.
Gobta seized the opportunity. Woo-hoo! That means I
don’t have to fight this crazy-dangerous magic-born, right?
He suppressed his joy just long enough to declare “All
right, I’ll serve as an observer for this duel, then!” Yep.
Definitely an observer. With all his tactics exhausted, that
beat just standing there and getting in the way. Rimuru
could accept defeat, but he could never accept his people
getting killed in action. Gobta wasn’t stupid enough to
volunteer to be war casualty number one for Tempest.
“Oh, you can have him if you want,” Alvis playfully said.
“If I take your prey,” Gobta wittily replied, “wouldn’t that
hurt your honor as a beastman, ma’am? I don’t need it that
bad, so go ahead and fight all you want! Sorry I got in the
way!”
Alvis accepted the inane excuse without a word. If
anything, it was the luckiest thing to happen to Gobta all
day. He had dodged a bullet with this total unknown before
him. Alvis had no intention of letting anyone else score this
kill anyway, and he had wriggled out of a battle against a
foe that completely outclassed him.
Whew. That’s the end of my work!

At the very far end of the rear guard, the group of priests
led by Middray was clashing with Gabil’s Team Hiryu.
Of course, only a few were standing by now. Nearly two
hundred fighters on both sides were lying on the ground.
But Middray was unhurt, his white robes free of dirt and
grime, and it was clear he was still going strong.
 “Waaah-ha-ha-ha! Not too shabby, you guys. I see you are
the descendants of dragons!”
Middray flashed a contented smile, surveying the fallen
and pretending the panting and exhausted Sufia in front of
him didn’t exist.
“Don’t you ignore me!”
Sufia, half Transformed into her beast form, had used
her vastly strengthened physical skills to attack Middray.
But the head priest, perhaps sensing this, had simply
leaned over to one side, preventing her from landing a
lethal blow. The effort had left her wide open.
“Hyah!”
Taking the clawed arm extended out to him, he tripped
up Sufia’s legs, picked up her body, and sharply slammed
her against the ground. The judo-like throw was unique to
the Dragon Faithful.
“I wasn’t ignoring you at all,” Middray happily explained.
“I don’t have much opportunity to use this against
monsters, so this is rather fun for me. It’s been ages since I
had a foe so worthy of that throw.”
This was more than Sufia was willing to bear.
“D-dammit! You, you made me…”
She was being treated like a plaything, her face red with
humiliation. But she had to admit it. Middray, this man
standing before her, was more powerful than she ever
imagined. Now he was surveying the landscape once again,
waiting for her to stand up and ignoring her until that
happened.
Curse him, he’s treating me like a second-class fighter!
And how could my Self-Regeneration fail me like this…?
It was true. Sufia’s skill was not healing any damage,
because her physical body hadn’t sustained any wounds.
She was exhausted simply because her stamina was tapping
out on her, and the force of each slam added to the burden.
He was wounding her internally, where the damage
wouldn’t be visible.
 But Sufia stood up anyway. As the Snowy Tigerclaw, she
could not let this affront continue to stand.
“Imagine, a bastard like you serving Clayman. I thought
Yamza was the best around here, but I suppose my instincts
were correct all along.”
“Yamza? Ah yes, sir. Yamza. He is rather capable, I’ll
admit, but not enough to serve as a playmate for me. I may
not look it, but I’ve sparred with Lady Milim on regular
occasions, you see.”
“Milim… The demon lord Milim?! So you’re the Dragon
Faithful?!”
No wonder, Sufia thought. They seemed so different in
disposition from the rest of Clayman’s troops. They seemed
to enjoy fighting for the sake of fighting, not at all
concerned with actually killing their enemies. And
compared to the other magic-born, they were all
overwhelmingly strong—and enjoying every minute of it.
“Ooh? Say, that dragonewt just felled Hermes! Wah-ha-
ha-ha-ha, that was quite a performance!”
Hermes was tangling with Gabil, and Gabil had just
knocked him down with his spear.
“F-Father, stop laughing and help me, please!”
“You lost, fool! Just sit there and think about what you
could’ve done better!”
He laughed at his associate, lying there on his back and
pleading for assistance. He could tell that Hermes wasn’t as
bad off as he claimed and that Gabil had no intention of
taking his life.
“All right. Counting me, that leaves three remaining. You
command a truly wonderful set of fighters, given how
evenly we are matched. It proves you’ve honed your bodies
and your minds, instead of relying on skills.”
“I suppose I should appreciate the compliment. My name
is Gabil. And you are with Lady Milim…?”
“Indeed! I am Middray of the Dragon Faithful.”
“And I am Sufia. Sufia of the Three Lycanthropeers! I
have no ear to lend to the servants of Clayman, but if you
worship Lady Milim, that is another story.”
“Mm. Lady Sufia, is it? I will make sure to remember
that. So what’ll it be now? I could take on the both of you at
once, if you like?”
Middray calmly folded his arms, implying that he liked his
chances.
“Can I ask you a question before that?”
“Mm? What is it?”
“I… I just mean, how can a mere human be so strong? Or
are the Dragon Faithful human at all? Something seems
strange about you.”
Middray nodded at this, his curiosity piqued. “What do
you mean by human?” he asked. “That’s the crux of it. If you
are inquiring about our species, however, the answer is
simple. We are dragonewts, like Sir Gabil over there.”
“What?! The same as us?”
“Yes, precisely. The difference is that instead of evolving
from lizardmen, we are the descendants of dragons that
‘humanized’ themselves and mated with the human race.
But in essence,” he closed with a smile, “we are the same.”
“Ah… And come to think of it, my sister Soka turned
wholly human in appearance.”
“Yes. But almost none of us can bring ourselves back to
our original shape. The priests you see strewn around us
don’t have any skills like Dragon Change or Dragon Body.
There is hardly any difference between them and human
beings.”
Middray turned his eyes toward Sufia.
“But that power is still handed down. Our worship of the
dragon does not allow us to forget the blood within us. Any
more questions, Lady Sufia?”
“No. Human, monster, it doesn’t matter. I just wanted to
know if your skills were the result of a weak human building
himself up to perfection. You say you are little different from
humans, and if so, I must pay respect to your efforts.”
 “Wah-ha-ha-ha-ha! You think the same way I do. One may
be born with strength, or one may acquire it. Magic-born
are so weak because they rely too much on the strength
they’ve always had. That’s why they compare their
strengths based on magicule capacity and so on. True
strength can’t be seen with the eye. The level of your skills
is the only solid, trustworthy index there is.”
Sufia was born strong. She had more fighting skill than
most monsters, through no special effort of her own. Her
massive well of energy, and the surging aura it created,
made even magic-born go out of their way to avoid her. Her
battle senses made full use of this, and her instincts alone
had brought her to where she was. Now, Middray’s words
made her realize how little time she had spent polishing her
Arts, her learned skills.
“So you mean I can become stronger?”
“Wah-ha-ha-ha-ha! Precisely. There is no such thing as an
experience that can win over being in actual battle. Here,
come at me! I’d be happy to spar with you.”
He remained where he stood, arms crossed and standing
high.
“Lady Sufia and me at the same time?” a dubious Gabil
asked. “Are you sure you aren’t being a little too
conceited?”
Middray just grinned at him. “Hmph! I could take you on
without even using my arms, little man!”
Gabil wasn’t about to take that sitting down.
“Lady Sufia…”
“We’ll tackle him together. We have to admit it. He’s a
strong one!”

The battle between Alvis and Yamza was about to reach its
raging climax.
 The two were evenly matched, but Yamza had finally
used his ace in the hole.
“Ha-ha-ha! Well performed, Lycanthropeer! Your ability
to keep up with me is astounding. But now, my victory is
assured!!”
“What?”
“Pfft! Did you think this magic sword was my only secret
weapon? Yes, you may be strong—strong enough to hold me
back. I will freely admit that. However! What if there were
two of me?”
With that shouted question, he unleashed the magic
inside the bracelet on his left wrist. This was a
Doppelganger Bracelet, an incredibly valuable Artifact
capable of producing a perfect copy of the wearer, right
down to their clothing and equipment. Now Alvis had to
fend off two Yamzas at the same time—and if one was an
even fight for her, she would have to be at a severe
disadvantage.
“Well? If you capitulate to me now, I could be convinced
to spare you—”
“So what?”
“…What did you say?”
“You think that parlor trick will outclass me? You really
are nothing more than a lackey of Clayman’s. Quite the
would-be finisher, there.”
Alvis didn’t give an inch, openly ridiculing her foe.
“Then die!”
And even before Yamza could scream that at her, Alvis
played her own final card.

Now the top half of her body was a beautiful woman, the
bottom half that of a large, black snake. This was Alvis’s
true, Animalized form, and now she was ready to use its full
force.
Unlike Phobio and Sufia with their focus on close-
quarters fighting, Alvis was usually thought to be a long-
range specialist, lobbing her magic attacks from afar. In
truth, however, she was a dyed-in-the-wool fighter,
masterful at short range in the way anyone serving the
Beast Master needed to be.
Her fighting style, however, ventured from the beaten
path. Alvis brought her staff up to her forehead—and in the
next instant, it disappeared, as she grew a golden horn
from above her eyes. Finally free, her aura surged outward
from her, greatly amplifying her power. This was her second
Transformation and her most secret of abilities.
She stood there, her entire body protected by dragon
scales. The whole space around them belonged to her, her
aura producing streaks of lightning in the air.
“Wha?!” Gobta spat out, sensing danger. There was no
way Alvis could remain coolheaded enough to tell friend
from foe like that.
“You said your name was Gobta? You have my permission
to move out immediately.”
“Ohhh, you don’t need to tell me twice, ma’am! Riders,
retreat!”
One shout from him was all it took to make the goblin
riders flee the scene. The surviving magic-born took the
opportunity to quickly surround Alvis.
“You fool! You intend to take us on alone?”
It was nothing for her to worry about.
“Is that how little you think of me? Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!
Die, you mob of idiots!!”
By the time Yamza saw it unfolding, it was already too
late. One magic-born before him fell to the ground, spewing
blood. One turned to stone and shattered against the earth.
One had his body literally rot away on the spot, until
nothing but a pile of dust remained. His army was being
killed, struck by ailments by one degree or another, and
Yamza had no way to stop it.
“Yoouuuuuu!!”
 Alvis was, in the end, best suited for close-quarters
combat. The Golden Snakehorn’s lone horn on her forehead
became a symbol of the death that permeated the
atmosphere—and then Yamza realized that his defeat was
total.
“Surrender, and I will take you prisoner and guarantee
you your life.”
Her offer was the only method of survival he had. A quick
stare with her Snake Eyes had completely shattered his
Doppelganger’s body. It even had the power to destroy
equipment, apparently, leaving Yamza’s partner to fade
away before battle even began.
…My limbs are starting to go numb. I won’t be able to
defend myself before long… What kind of sheer strength do
these Lycanthropeers enjoy?!
It was bad luck that Yamza had to be paired with the
strongest of that trio. He chose the wrong woman to pick a
fight with, and he had no idea. Alvis rarely had the chance
to fully exercise her power, since she was often picked to
serve a commanding role. As a result, she was seen as the
de facto manager of the Lycanthropeers, not as a
formidable warrior in her own right.
That was Yamza’s appraisal as well, and he had totally
underrated her.

The war was won. But it was not over. Clayman was a sly
demon lord, one who would never forgive betrayal among
his own armies. And just when Yamza prepared to nod his
agreement to Alvis’s offer:

(—You know I would never permit that, yes?)

It was Clayman’s voice, booming within Yamza’s mind.

“Uh?” he instinctively grunted. Then his body began
moving, beyond his own control.
 “S-stop! Stop that! Please, Sir Clayman, stop this at
once!”
A hand took a bluish-purple orb out from his pocket, then
brought it to his mouth.
“Mmghh!!”
He locked his jaw as tightly as he could, trying to
scramble away from it. It was a pointless act of resistance,
and it didn’t last long. Struck by Clayman’s Marionette
takeover, Yamza’s body was no longer his own to control.
“…What are you doing?” a suspicious Alvis asked. But by
the time she did, Yamza was busy swallowing the orb in his
hand—a section from Charybdis’s body.
“Hah? Harbhh, nnhhh… Graghaghaaaahhh!!”
“What on—?!”
Alvis tensed up, confused—as long, thin tendrils shot out
from his body toward the dead lying around him, taking in
the corpses. He ballooned in size, turning into a vast,
grotesque ball of flesh. Uncontrollable magical energy
flowed within the Alvis-dominated air, forming a hurricane-
class blizzard.
The creature before her consumed, expanded, and burst.
Having no monster core of its own, it was a self-destructing
being, rampaging across the land before meeting its
demise. But its temporary power was every bit as strong as
Yamza’s—and the nature of it was deadly. Its insatiable
desire to eat everything in its path was just the same as
well.
This was the “forbidden” tactic Yamza was reluctant to
use, the intricate trap Clayman had laid. Charybdis had now
appeared once more.

Alvis’s face tightened as she threw her full force into an

attack. It didn’t work. No regular strike would ever pierce
this constantly expanding Charybdis. Its Ultraspeed
Regeneration took in the corpses around it, rapidly
reforming it into a temporary body for itself.
“Ngh! This monster…!”
All Alvis could do was gnash her teeth, her Snake Eyes
and lightning having no effect. This monster was disaster-
class, on a level far, far above her. Even the strongest of the
Three Lycanthropeers could do little about it by herself. The
only saving grace was that this was a distance away from
the main battlefield; there was time before this could start
to affect her allies but only until Charybdis could finish
creating its body.
Desperation flew in like a violent storm. The worst part
was how this monster wasn’t satisfied enough using Yamza
as its substitute core—it had taken in his Ice Blade as well,
sucking up all the heat around it and making the local
temperature plummet. The monster was destroying all in its
path, turning its aura into an Ice Blizzard, pummeling the
area with icy snow and intense wind. That was scary
enough, but what Alvis feared even more was the moment
when it released all the heat energy it had taken in.
Those who can teleport out might be fine, but everyone
else…
…would die.
“I hate this! May all the gods curse that bastard
Clayman!!”
Letting her true nature take hold, Alvis screamed as she
continually attacked—again and again, no time in between
to breathe. It was all in vain. Even if she scarred
Charybdis’s exterior, any damage to the monster itself was
light. It just healed itself too quickly.
“Dammit! I’ve just got to get everyone out that I can—”
Even through the desperation, Alvis tried to take the best
measures she could. To her, this meant trying to relay a plea
to Benimaru to retreat everyone from the battlefield.
In the end, however, this never happened. It didn’t need
to.
“You’re ignoring orders, Alvis. I told you to get out if you
faced a battle you cannot win.”
There, with no previous warning, Benimaru himself
appeared.
“…Sir Benimaru?!”
“Oh, Charybdis, eh? My offense did little against it last
time, but how about now?”
He gave her a defiant smile.
“Sir Benimaru, this monster is just too—”
“I know. It’s perfect for testing my current powers.”
Benimaru raised his right hand and grasped it—both
Charybdis and his own strength. The fight was over in an
instant. His feet planted on the ground, his sword, covered
in jet-black flames, slashed the monster’s flesh, although it
did not fully slice through its freshly constructed body. But
something was different from before. Unlike with Alvis’s
efforts, the Self-Regeneration never started. Dark flames
were dancing across the gash, rapidly engulfing its entire
body.
“Tch. Not quite there yet. We have no time to play with
here, so I’ll sadly have to end this.”
He turned back toward Alvis, leaning his sword against
his shoulder, seemingly unconcerned with Charybdis.
“My apologies. I was hoping we could spar once it had
achieved its complete form, but…”
The gigantic beast had not taken to the air yet, but its
body was already nearly the length of half a football field.
Now, however, it had been fully encased in a black dome.
“Away with you,” he whispered, and then a percussive
boom! shook the land.

It was Hellflare, his wide-range razing attack, this time

far more powerful than ever before.
 Benimaru’s Dominate Flame gave him a full grasp of the
flow of magical energy, stabbing right through Charybdis’s
Magic Interference and rendering its body into ash. It
proved to the world that Benimaru’s control over magicules
completely overpowered this monster’s.
“You’re kidding me!”
Alvis’s surprise was understandable. If his attacks
worked on Charybdis, it meant Benimaru’s magic force
surpassed the monster’s. This meant that Benimaru himself
was disaster class, on the same level as Alvis’s master, the
demon lord Carillon.
“I have some business to take care of, Alvis. Effective
immediately, I hereby appoint you as my aide to command
our entire force.”
“…Yes, Sir Benimaru.”
She undid her Transformation to kneel down and take
the post. She had more than a few questions for Benimaru,
but now was not the time for them. Calming her frenzied
mind, she meekly accepted her orders.

Charybdis was an unprecedented, unexpected threat,

but when faced with that irresistible force, it fell without a
moment’s delay.

“Hoh, hoh-hoh-hoh… This is quite a surprise. I was

expecting Yamza to turn tail and flee. But imagine,
dispatching Charybdis that easily…”
“Mm-hmm! I kind of have an affinity for it, but not even
we could pull off a kill like that.”
“Clayman’s forces are destroyed. The mission’s a failure
—the losses immense. He should have just sat there and
played nice, the way our fellow jester told him to.”
 “Yes, yes. Well, Laplace warned him. Clayman can’t
blame anyone for it but himself.”
Footman and Teare exchanged looks as they spoke.
Before them was a heavily wounded Phobio, kept on his feet
by the attending Geld.
“We’ll need to brief him about this, so I’m afraid playtime
is over.”
Footman himself was unhurt. Teare wasn’t, but she was
still healthy enough to fight. Judging by their injuries, Geld
and Phobio appeared to have lost the day.
“You think you can leave?” Phobio groaned, staggering
as he tried to keep himself up. “I knew you guys were bad
news. If we can keep you here, Alvis and Sufia will show up
before long. Plus, we’ve got Sir Benimaru. It’ll be the end
for you.”
He was scarred from head to toe, but his wounds had
already closed up. The speed at which they healed was
mind-boggling, going well beyond the Self-Regeneration
most beastmen had and almost reaching the realm of
Ultraspeed Regeneration. Phobio had inherited that skill to
some extent after the previous Charybdis swallowed him
up.
“Just give it up already, kitty!” Teare shouted as she gave
Phobio a punch that sent him reeling. It didn’t leave Phobio
down for long. In a few moments, he was back on his feet.
Teare was the quicker of the two, but she could never
quite land a lethal blow. Phobio, on the other hand, was
slowly but surely damaging Teare’s body. He might have
appeared defeated at first glance, but the longer the fight
lasted, the more likely it was that it’d end otherwise.
Footman, meanwhile, was rolled up like a meatball,
bounding around at hyper-speed and trying to run Geld
down. Geld used his great shield to deflect his trajectory,
swinging his Meat Cleaver to try to smash him up. His
attempts were blocked by Footman’s thickened skin,
preventing him from dealing decisive damage.
 On offense and defense, it was safe to call them perfectly
even—but only because Footman hadn’t begun seriously
fighting yet. And now, with Charybdis defeated, Footman’s
recess time was over.
“Mgh?!”
Geld, realizing this, positioned himself in front of Phobio.
“What is it, Geld?”
Before he could answer, Footman began raining attacks
on the both of them. These were balls of magic, each one
enormous and stuffed with energy—a simple attack but one
with enough force to alter the landscape around them. One
of the magic orbs was enough to shatter Geld’s shield and
even smash up the armor covering his body. It damaged
Phobio in the process, and he no doubt had Ultraspeed
Regeneration to thank for still being alive.
(Hooooooh-hoh-hoh-hoh! We weren’t tasked with taking
care of you two, so we’ll extend you the honor of letting you
go.)
(I hope you’re grateful! If we were serious about this,
neither of you would be in this world any longer!)
Neither Geld nor Phobio could stand up any longer to
contest them. When the dust from the explosions finally
settled, Footman and Teare were gone.
“…This was a total defeat,” Geld groused. “I thought I
had some strength, but I suppose there’s always someone
better than you.”
“No, Geld. If you hadn’t been here, I’d probably be dead
right now. Sorry to drag you down…”
“Not at all. We may have lost the battle, but we’re still
alive. As long as we win next time, we’re good.”
“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right!”
Phobio was not a weak beastman. Footman and Teare
were just too strong. Strong enough that you could even
call them demon lords. Perhaps Geld had more magical
energy at his fingertips, but without the ability to use it
shrewdly, that power meant nothing. Geld focused entirely
on defense against Footman, but even he knew that he’d
never win in a serious fight opposite him. For now, though,
that was fine.
(Sir Benimaru, the jesters have fled.)
(I saw,) came the Thought Communication reply. (They
might think they’re letting us live. How naïve of them.)
Benimaru’s orders for Geld were to discover what the
enemy was capable of and keep Phobio safe. I couldn’t just
sit there and watch things unfold, he thought, but not
killing me was a bad mistake. Sir Benimaru has recorded
how that battle worked out—and then Rimuru will analyze
it and break open the secret to their strength.
Thus, this was a defeat with some benefits to them.
Mission accomplished. And if he can’t win now, he can close
the gap with his future training. He had hoped to settle the
score with these guys for using and abusing him, but Geld
simply didn’t have what it took.
But next time, I’m winning, he silently resolved.
(I’ll go back to my command, then.)
(Please do. There’s one more dangerous element on the
field right now, so I’d better tackle that.)
Sir Benimaru sure has it tough, Geld thought as he
closed the link. This battlefield was full of dangerous
elements, and since they had to deal with them all at once,
he was forced to divvy up his army’s assets and scatter
them around. Benimaru intended to sort these conflicts by
priority and step in himself to handle any rescues needed,
but one misstep along the line could lead to serious danger.
He seemed to be handling his post well, however. One
would think he’d focus on finding and killing Footman first,
but he successfully managed to put overall victory above his
own vendettas.
This isn’t some general with a thirst for blood, I suppose.
Compared to when we fought him, the growth he’s shown
has been amazing…
It made Geld trust in Benimaru all the more.
It was several minutes into the battle—minutes that, to
Gabil and Sufia, felt like hours. But it ended
unceremoniously.

“Mgh?!”
“What on…?!”
“Huff…huff… What…what is the matter…?”
After the second or third repetition, Sufia had learned
how to roll with Middray’s throws, helping recover her
energy. Gabil, meanwhile, had flung his spear wildly around
at this attack he wasn’t used to, completely exhausting him.
Middray, dealing with them both, appeared completely
unhindered by fatigue—compared to sparring with Milim,
this wouldn’t even make him break a sweat.
And Middray was the first to notice it.
“All forces, use your healing magics!” he shouted, the
casual ease disappearing from his face. “Stand up! Stand
up and rouse everyone around here!”
“This is bad, Father Middray,” Hermes said, apparently
feeling much better now. “This guy… The reading I’m
getting is huge.”
“I know that! This is Charybdis, the beast Lady Milim
dispatched just the other day. Or is it its remains?”
“Yeah… It looks unstable to me. I imagine it’ll
disintegrate before the day is through…”
“But this is a battlefield. If things go wrong, it could
rapidly evolve. Better not to give a monster like that the
food it craves.”
The fallen priests around him cast healing spells to revive
both themselves and Team Hiryu under Gabil’s command.
“Charybdis?” Sufia asked. “The monster that used Phobio
as a core to revive itself with?! I thought Lady Milim had
already destroyed it!”
“Yes,” Gabil added, realizing this current match was over.
“If it was Charybdis, Lady Milim definitely killed it…”
“Calm down. It’s not the real thing; just a fragment of its
force. I think it used Yamza as its replacement core…”
Middray was using Dragon’s Glance to analyze the
innards of the creature. It was not as strong as Milim’s own
Dragon’s Eye, but it still provided him with ample enough
vision and analysis skills.
Hermes, meanwhile, was surveying the area for any
other potential threats. “Looks like you’re right, sir. That
ass Yamza was trying to kill us, but his soul’s already been
consumed. With how he is now, we’ll just have to keep
damage to a minimum and wait for him to fall apart,” he
coldly concluded.
“Did you hear that? Keep your weapons at the ready,
people. And don’t get greedy! If buying time is all we need,
that won’t be a tall order.”
“Let us help you out,” Gabil added, in sync with Middray
as if they were old friends. “We are more used to high-
altitude flight since last time. If we can catch those scale
attacks before they strike, they cannot hurt us.”
Even a crazed, twisting beast like Charybdis had a
tendency to chase after anything moving. A flying target,
Gabil reasoned, would make the perfect lure. Sufia was also
thinking unusually lucidly, trying to execute on what she
could do here.
“Right,” Middray began, “I’ll aid in the retreat so it can’t
feed off any of our ground forces and—”
But before he could finish, things took an abrupt turn as
Benimaru all but vaporized Charybdis.
“What…on…?! He just pulled off the most unbelievable
thing!”
“…Who is that guy? A demon lord? Unless you’re Lady
Milim, how could some regular magic-born do that? He has
to be some kind of monster…”
 Only Middray and Hermes had an accurate bead on the
situation. Sufia and Gabil saw it at the same time but
couldn’t parse what just happened. All they could see was
that the evil aura of Charybdis had been snuffed in an
instant.
“Hey, what’s going on? Tell me!”
“Yes. We seek an explanation as well.”
“Yeah, um, I’d want to explain,” Hermes said, “but…”
“I don’t think we need to,” Middray finished.
Before either of them could, the air in front of them
twisted and warped, revealing a magic-born with hair as
red as roaring flames. It was Benimaru, sword rested on his
shoulder, and he was here to take on Middray, the last
threat on the battlefield.
“Well,” he said with a sneer, “I see you’ve been
entertaining my friends?” Then he realized something
wasn’t quite right about this picture. There was evidence of
combat around him, but there were no injuries—and by the
looks of things, no hard feelings on either side.
“Sir Benimaru, wait! These are Lady Milim’s fighters, the
priests of the Dragon Faithful!”
“What? Lady Milim’s?! In that case…”
“Yes! They healed our wounds with magic!”
“…I see. It seems I’ve jumped to conclusions. You seemed
like such a threat in this theater, I couldn’t help but be
alarmed.”
“Wah-ha-ha-ha-ha! You didn’t jump to conclusions at all.
We were actually fighting, yes. And we did perform some
healing, but that was to prepare for what we thought was
an oncoming disaster. Now I suppose all that wasn’t
necessary.”
“…Ah. So what now? Are you taking us on?”
“Well, what should we do…?”
“Because personally speaking, I would prefer not to
engage in combat with Lady Milim’s forces.”
“No, I suppose not. I can understand wanting to try it,
but there is no quarrel between us. I would simply want to
compare our powers.”
“Yes… I can see that.”
The two gave each other knowing grins.
“Whoooa!” Hermes interjected. “Not good, Father!”
“Yes, Sir Benimaru! If you hurt one of the Dragon
Faithful, there’s no telling what kind of calamity that would
bring upon us!”
“You heard her, Father Middray! Sir Rimuru is Lady
Milim’s friend. It would all end in tragedy, I am sure of it!”
Sufia silently resented Hermes and Gabil for stepping in.
“Fair enough,” Benimaru said. “Besides, if I don’t come
at him trying to kill him, I expect it’ll result in nothing but
defeat for me—and I don’t like engaging in losing battles.”
“Wah-ha-ha-ha-ha! Quite so. And I’m not sure even I
could withstand a blow like the one that buried Charybdis!”
Middray might have laughed the concept off, but he had
a suspicion that he could win the battle before Benimaru
had a chance to bust that out. That would result in a life-
and-death duel, however, going well beyond the boundaries
of a friendly sparring session. A battlefield was the wrong
place for this, and it no longer meant anything anyway.
Thus ended the battle in the former kingdom of Orbic,
while the unified forces enjoyed a near-total victory. But this
wasn’t the only battlefield.

At the stroke of midnight, Shuna, Soei, and Hakuro sprang

into action. They quickly discovered Clayman’s
headquarters within the wetlands covered by the
mysterious mist and began to stealthily make their way
there.
Beyond these wetlands were several murky swamps, gas
bubbling out from the surface. This was what created the
cloud of mist, making things seem eerier than they already
were. The moment they waded in, visibility plummeted to
nearly nothing.
“Uh-oh. This mist is blocking our Magic Sense.”
“It is,” confirmed Soei. “That was why we called off our
investigation. With this poor visibility, anyone inside would
have to rely on their own five senses to ‘see’ around them.
That’s what the enemy must use to keep track of what goes
on in here.”
“Mm, I see. So we face a brutal disadvantage.”
“Indeed, Sir Hakuro. You and I can use Covert Agent to
hide our presences, but Lady Shuna…”
“I should be fine.”
It was true. Hakuro could use his Haze concealing skill to
all but disappear to the external observer, as could Soei.
You could be standing right next to them and never realize
it. Shuna, despite not having this exact Art, could still
perfectly heal herself.
“Hmm… A combination of illusory and mystical magic? It
doesn’t work like Haze, but it has the same effect. Well
done, Lady Shuna.”
Hakuro was right—this approach was Shuna’s original
creation. While she wasn’t quite as gifted at it as Rimuru,
her Creator unique skill allowed her to conjure up her own
magic spells without a recipe.
“Then we should be fine,” Soei said. “But I want you all to
remember that Thought Communication won’t work in this
fog. Visibility is low, it is hard to stay in contact, and we all
need to proceed carefully and cautiously. Also…”
Even with Soei’s Replications, Thought Communication–
based conversation would be impossible. Instead, he
provided a length of Sticky Steel Thread around each of
their wrists for emergency contacts. Focusing on this
thread would allow them to maintain at least a modicum of
communication, but if the string broke, that would be the
end of the contact. Using it required a great deal of caution.
 Shuna and Hakuro nodded and wrapped it around their
wrists. They were ready now. “Let’s get going,” Shuna said,
and the three ran off.

Then, after several minutes of walking, Shuna stopped.

“…Oh no,” she whispered. “We seem to have fallen into a
trap.”
“A trap?”
“I can feel my senses going haywire on me, yes, but I
don’t feel any enemies around the— What?!”
Before he could finish speaking, Soei felt multiple
presences nearby appear from out of nowhere, virtually
surrounding them.
“How on…? Where were so many of these enemies
hiding, such that we couldn’t notice them?”
“No, Hakuro! They weren’t hiding. We were lured right
to them!”
“Ah… This fog. The cloud’s doing more than confusing
our sense of direction. It’s concealing the enemy and
inviting us right to the middle of their circle…”
“I see. That explains the odd feeling I had just now.”
“You’re right. The mist is triggering Spatial Interference
to lure intruders from any direction to a specific place—”
Before Shuna finished explaining this, one of the
presences appeared. Soei and Hakuro steeled themselves
toward it, keeping a watchful eye out for the still-unseen
monsters in the mist, as Shuna closed her mouth and
focused on it—a skeleton dressed in a vestment of pure
white.
“Such massive magical force,” she whispered, beads of
sweat on her forehead. For a moment, she thought it might
have been Clayman himself, although she banished the
thought quickly. It was past midnight; the demon lord
should be over at the Walpurgis Council. Perhaps it was one
of Clayman’s five fingers, then—but the figure before them
exuded pure presence, beyond that of the Lycanthropeers
and approaching demon lord level. The power of this magic-
born was overwhelming; it was a wonder that it was
subservient to anyone else.
She recalled what Mjurran told her about Clayman’s
most senior leaders—and that one of them was geared
strictly toward defending their base.
“…You must be Adalmann, then. The ruler of this land—
the wight king with power over countless undead…”
Hakuro had just used Heavengaze to reach the same
conclusion. But this figure was more ominous than how
Mjurran described it, its force far more massive. The
guardian of this wetland was a wight king on the level of a
demon lord.
Soei accepted Shuna and Hakuro’s appraisal, finding no
reason to doubt it. Then, quietly, he sharpened his bladelike
mind. No matter who the enemy is, he will kill him—that
was his credo.
But just as Soei was about to move, the wight king spoke.
“Indeed, I am Adalmann. I have been ordered to protect
this land by the great demon lord Clayman. Lowly intruders
like you may do nothing but humbly submit your lives to me.
Do it, and I will kill you without pain.”
This was the command of a kingly figure, not the words
of a foe who saw Shuna and her companions as equals.
Considering the massive, overwhelming amount of
Adalmann’s magic energy, anything else would almost seem
improper.
Now, all around the area, a legion of over ten thousand
undead were writhing, as if attracted to the seemingly
inexhaustible supply of magicules. Cracking, wrenching
sounds filled the air as they moved to encircle the trio.
“We are fully surrounded,” Shuna breathlessly reported.
“This mist is working alongside a directional barrier to
prevent teleportation outside. All our means of
communication are blocked. The only way to get out of here
is to defeat this Adalmann foe.”
“Then we must strike their leader at once.”
“No disagreement here. A blow from me can even kill the
dead.”
Hakuro and Soei had no interest in following Adalmann’s
advice. As Shuna explained the situation, they both went on
the attack. But Adalmann simply laughed in their faces.
“Heh-heh-heh… You appear not to know your place. I
generously provided you mercy, and yet, you remain foolish
to the end. You will regret refusing that offer shortly.”
He breezily swung an arm. The next moment, the most
surprising thing happened—the white blade of Hakuro,
instantly zooming within range of Adalmann, was blocked
by the knight who had appeared in front of him.
Hakuro stepped back in shock, failing to believe that this
killer blow could be parried. This was a death knight,
ranked A-minus in the Guild system, but from that clash,
Hakuro could sense something was off. It was a powerful
monster, yes, but no garden-variety death knight could ever
block a slash from him.
“You are no normal adversary. Very well. Let me give you
my full attention.”
He had an accurate bead on this death knight and the
threat it carried for him. Its strength relied not on physical
toughness but on the built-up level of its skills—which
meant Heavengaze would tell him nothing about it. So he
used his own physical might to confront it.
“……”
The death knight was silent; the corpse serving as the
shell of its body was incapable of speech. But there was a
blistering blue flame in its sunken eyes. The light of
consciousness was in there, the pride of a former human
being, and it told Hakuro that his challenge was accepted.
Even after abandoning life, this death knight was a
proud, noble warrior. The difference in magical energy
between the two was negligible, as was their physical
muscle. It marked the beginning of a clash between built-up
skills, one that quickly made sparks fly.

Before Soei, meanwhile, was Adalmann himself, an

enormous shadow from out of nowhere blocking all
attempts to attack him.
“Deh!” Soei glared at the towering shade. “No… A
dragon zombie?”
“No, Soei!” Shuna could see it more fully, through the
muck. “Nothing that weak! Its magicules outnumber yours;
it stands at the peak of the undead—it’s a death dragon!”
Soei’s face tensed upon hearing this. He could manage
this solo, but fighting this foe while guarding Shuna was a
different story. The usually reliable Hakuro was too busy
with the death knight. He had to dispatch this death dragon
as soon as possible, or else Shuna would be overrun by the
thousands of undead lumbering their way in from all sides.
Now, Soei realized, was no time to hold back.
“Then, die! Mystic Thread Strike!”
Without delay, Soei dealt out the most powerful attack he
could, a killer move that fricasseed the enemy with
thousands of branching strings of Sticky Steel Thread, each
granted the Insta-Kill effect from his Shadow Striker unique
skill. They created a virtual garden of beautiful, bloody
blooms, like a kaleidoscope. Even a half-spiritual life-form
like an undead would be snuffed out by this spiritual body-
slicing move—or so it should have.
“No! It’s regenerating?!”
Soei could feel himself begin to sweat. The sixty-foot-long
beast’s body was ripped apart, seemingly ending the battle.
But then, as if nothing was amiss, the death dragon’s body
reassembled itself. It went so fast, even faster than
Ultraspeed Regeneration, that it seemed like nothing less
than immortality.
“Then let me destroy you, soul and all…”
“Soei,” Shuna shouted out as he steeled himself, “calm
down! You know how to analyze your foe’s strengths. You
should know that you can’t beat a death dragon!”
“But…”
“That dragon’s soul is within the magic-born Adalmann,”
she quietly declared. “Don’t worry about me; just work on
keeping that dragon where it is. I’ll defeat Adalmann!”
“That’s too dangerous!”
“No, Soei. Listen to me. I’m angry.”
A cold smile stretched across Shuna’s face to dispel
Soei’s worries. They shined a piercing light, exhibiting her
raging emotions. The sight made Soei clam up, unable to
speak.
As the former princess of the ogre tribe, Shuna’s words
had the power to make others do her bidding—and now,
that power was stronger than even the otherworlder Kirara
Mizutani’s Bewilder unique skill. Besides, Shuna wasn’t
some precious cargo that required constant protection.
Soei knew that. So there was only one answer.
“Yes, Lady Shuna. Best of luck.”
She contentedly smiled. “You too, Soei. That dragon’s all
yours.”
Soei nodded back, giving Shuna his full trust, then threw
himself back into his own fight.

Shuna, left alone, didn’t waver at all as she confronted

Adalmann. The wight king rewarded this by glaring at her.
“Hoh? And what do you intend to do, little girl? What
could you do without anyone to defend you? How are you
going to engage ten thousand foes at once?”
There was an odd sort of joy in Adalmann’s voice. He was
enjoying this, in fact. The demon lord Clayman’s orders
were absolute, but Adalmann was still afforded his own
sense of free will, although his activities were limited in
every other way. The only thing he was allowed full rein to
do was wipe out intruders.
Clayman’s other minions derided him for having so much
power but so little brains to back that up—and it was only
because he was not allowed to leave this land or do
anything on his own volition. And it was perhaps the way
that he wasn’t even allowed to provide excuses to them that
made people fail to realize it.
Adalmann was less a magic-born and more a weapon, a
base-defense mechanism bound to this land. His soul
remained unbound, but his behavior was now automatic,
following the orders input into him. He spoke of his loyalty
to Clayman, but that was just an act. He had been preset to
pay his formal respects to the owner of this device.
In his heart of hearts, Adalmann wanted to be released
from these bonds. That was why he enjoyed talking with
Shuna. The defense mechanisms worked automatically; he
had no authority to alter them in any way. The chats he had
with intruders were his only hobby to speak of, the only
thing no one else could interfere with. The demon lord
Kazalim, creator of this structure, offered him that much
mercy. Or maybe not. But Adalmann wanted to think so.
That gesture, after all, was what had allowed him to live all
this time, a thousand years or so, without succumbing to
insanity.
Even if it was just a measure to keep this system running
longer, I have to thank him for that, at least.
And he meant it. That was why he never spared any
effort to hammer down intruders, regardless of what he
thought about it. But at least he prayed, as he imagined an
army of ten thousand undead preying upon Shuna, that it
could be done painlessly.
But then her voice rang out sharply once more.
 “No need to worry about me. Alignment Field!!”
At that instant, the area within a three-hundred-foot
radius of Shuna became holy ground, where nothing of evil
alignment could tread. It was another original product of
Shuna’s mind, using her experience to Analyze the Anti-
Magic Area and Holy Field, then Fuse them together. This
barrier obstructed all magicules, but it could also be set to
block fire, wind, or any one of the other four major
elements, making it a shockingly formidable defensive spell.
“Now we won’t be distracted. If I defeat you, that will
destroy the defense system with you at its core, right?”
“…Hmm. Impressive. And you’ve seen through my secret
as well. What is your name, girl?”
Shuna was absolutely right. If Adalmann died, the whole
base-defense system would crumble. It was structured to
bind Adalmann’s soul down, using it to circulate the large
amounts of magicules it required. That would no doubt free
the death dragon serving him—as well as the death knight,
Alberto, who was once Adalmann’s friend and confidant.
Shuna had seen all that at a glance, and Adalmann offered
her his honest respect for that. Respect and the ever-so-
slight hope that she might be able to release him from this
pain.
“My name is Shuna.”
“Shuna… Lady Shuna. Then let us settle this for good. If
you can defeat me, I will follow your wishes.”
“My, thank you for the polite request. However, all I seek
is the destruction of the demon lord Clayman. If you stay
out of my way, I could leave you alone to live on this land,
perhaps?”
“Heh-heh-heh. I’m not sure that’s possible, I’m afraid.”
“No? I thought you might be capable of conquering the
ties that bind you, but perhaps I was wrong. Oh, well. In
that case,” she said without a moment’s hesitation, “I will
kill you as I intended to.”
If I could conquer them, thought Adalmann, I would have
done it eons ago. Kazalim is a man to be feared, a foe no
one can hold a candle to. The nickname Curse Lord is not
just bravado. And she makes it all sound so easy…
“Then the time for talk is over,” he declared, still having
no ill will toward her. “Try to resist me with everything
you’ve got!”
………
……
…
Adalmann was born a prince in one of the small nations
under the jurisdiction of the Holy Empire of Lubelius. These
lands were all too weak to have their own standing
militaries, instead relying on the Temple Knights sent from
the Church’s central headquarters. In exchange, they were
required to adopt Luminism as the state religion and
provide money and qualified personnel for their knight
corps.
The Western Holy Church of the time didn’t enjoy the
influence they wielded now; this was before the advent of
their Crusader groups. Practitioners who showed talent
could be granted the name of “acolyte,” a nonhereditary
title, but that was it. In the midst of that, Adalmann was an
exceptional performer—and with his elder brother taking
over the country and quickly giving birth to an heir, he was
free to devote himself deeply to spreading the faith, joining
the Church’s missionary corps and quickly making a name
for himself.
He was devout to the faith, constantly fascinated by the
divine works of Luminus. Never once did he doubt the
existence of this lone, true, powerful goddess. That devotion
eventually led him to learn the “divine miracles” of the
Church’s archbishop class, making him the greatest master
of holy magic in his era.
In time, he advanced to the rank of cardinal, the loftiest
in the Western Holy Church. In the Lubelius noble
hierarchy, he was no one particularly special. But he
redoubled his efforts, extending his interests to magic
beyond the holy spells he was familiar with. He would hold
long discussions about magic with Gadora, one of his best
friends at the time, as he incessantly polished his skills. The
effort eventually paid off—he became an Enlightened,
transcending the bounds of humanity itself.
An Enlightened was a person who retained their human
form but on the inside was a demi-spiritual being, similar to
a higher-level elemental. Their powers were leaps and
bounds above those of a regular human, and they were
often seen as defenders of the human cause. This power
quickly put Adalmann in a position of immense central
authority.
Time passed. Adalmann’s intensive study continued. And
eventually, he took the next step forward, to the highest
peak of mankind—a Sage. As he did, he was greeted with
wondrous news: He would be called to the Inner Cloister, at
the top of the Church’s holy mountain.
The offer filled him with joy.
Finally, an audience with Luminus herself!
He always believed that Luminus was real, an
unwavering belief that served as the source for all his faith.
So he promptly set off for the holy mount, not believing for
a moment that it would lead to tragedy. That belief, sadly,
would ultimately betray him.
………
……
…
The intense magical battle continued.
“Melt all and wear it away—Acid Shell!”
The aspectual spell Adalmann had just cast conjured
balls of liquid in the air, each capable of melting flesh to the
bone. They rained down upon Shuna.
She didn’t miss a beat.
“Flame Wall.”
The barrier of fire deflected and vaporized all the magic-
infused droplets. Between accelerating her mind to a
thousand times normal, possessing superior Analyze and
Assess skills, and changing the rules with Cast Cancel and
Control Laws, Shuna’s unique skill Parser was made for a
clash of magic like this. From the moment Adalmann began
constructing a spell, she had a way to deal with it.
“Then how about this? Malicious dead, accept this
sacrifice—Curse Bind!!”
This was necromancy, an offshoot of elemental magic that
took advantage of the negative energies from ghouls and
the undead. Curse Bind was a particularly nasty one,
summoning zombies that latched on to anything living—
human or magic-born—and drained away their life energy.
Even that wasn’t enough.
“Holy Bell.”
Shuna’s refreshingly clear voice reached Adalmann’s
ears, and right after came the tolling of bells he was once
well used to hearing. That was all it took to send the
grudgeful zombies to the afterlife.
“…It can’t be! Why? Why is a monster wielding elemental
magic?!”
Adalmann’s eyes shot open at the divine miracle playing
out before him. The magic was deployed all too beautifully,
reminding him of his youthful days spent studying.
This was holy magic in the air, something a monster girl
should never be able to weave. The unbelievable sight made
him scream without thinking.
Shuna smiled as she decided to answer Adalmann’s
question, even though she had no obligation to. “Do you find
it strange? Perhaps you need a little more imagination. Holy
magic is not the exclusive domain of humans; it will work
with anyone who believes in the power of miracles, based
on the strength of their belief.”
Conventional wisdom in this world stated that holy magic
worked by forging a pact with an elemental spirit. This was
both right and wrong. The fact that magic-born could cast
healing spells indicated that “holy” magic was possible for
them without any pact with a holy being. Most humans, and
even monsters, didn’t understand that.
The sole condition for acquiring holy magic was having
faith—believing in miracles, to put it another way. Good, or
evil, didn’t factor into it; the strength of one’s emotions was
directly converted into power. That was how this family of
magic worked. (This was also the reason why the Dragon
Faithful that worshipped Milim could access holy magic.)
 Hearing this terse explanation was staggering to
Adalmann. I—I was wrong the whole time? I was betrayed.
I lost my faith in the goddess Luminus. I thought I would
never be able to wield holy magic again…
Luminus betrayed Adalmann—or to be precise, he had
been trapped by the supreme leaders of Luminism. He still
didn’t know why. Perhaps they feared his rise in power;
perhaps it was another reason. All he knew was that
Luminus, his goddess, offered him no helping hand.
It’s almost comical, in a way. The Seven Days Clergy
tricked me into setting off to quell a large army of undead
attacking our people… I never could’ve guessed it was a
trap. And thanks to that Gadora conducting magical
experiments on me, I’ve been revived as this twisted,
reviled figure…
Unaware that he was being led to his grave, he waltzed
right into the far edge of the Great Forest of Jura, where he
still dwelled today. He was awaited by a legion of undead,
led by a dragon zombie. He was accompanied by Alberto,
acolyte and his closest friend, along with four knights and
an expeditionary force that loved him, and they fought with
all their might. It wasn’t enough.
Adalmann fell to the ground—and died once. But then
Reincarnation, a Mysterious Art placed upon him by his
other friend Gadora, activated and resurrected his soul—a
soul that had already been poisoned by the miasma across
the land, the malice of the dead around him. He was reborn
not as a man but as a wight, transformed into a skeleton.
The metamorphosis had caught the attention of the demon
lord Kazalim, and now here he was today.
“Thus, if you are incapable of handling holy magic, then I
am positive you are incapable of beating me.”
Shuna’s words hit home like a knockout punch,
reminding Adalmann that he was still in battle. “Wh-why?”
he instinctively asked. “Why did you think I was a master of
holy magic?”
 “Because of how you look,” came the cold reply. “That
white vestment, which only high-level bishops and above
are permitted to wear. You were worthy of such fine robes,
and yet, you whine and carry on about being unable to
conquer such a basic bind like this. I hardly needed to
examine you closely to see that you wore that robe simply
out of blind attachment to your former holy magic.”
She had him pegged the entire time. He could hear it in
her voice.
“Nnnhh… I have let you spout far too much nonsense!!”
Adalmann flew into a rage—not at Shuna but at himself.
Seeing his true heart now, something he couldn’t notice
until it was pointed out to him, made him both exasperated
and enraged at his own spinelessness. But he could also feel
an inexplicably refreshing comfort in his heart, like the fog
of a thousand years had finally lifted from him. He let his
raging emotions drive him to cast another spell.
“I offer this prayer to my god. I seek your divine powers.
May my request reach your ears safely—”
Yes. I simply lacked the resolve. Having my beloved
friends turn into undead, I couldn’t let myself die and leave
them behind… I wasn’t good enough. Necromancy and
aspectual magic cannot cleanse the undead. Who could say
how many times I wished I could tap into holy magic…
Those “friends” were one reason why Adalmann was
bound to this area. He couldn’t abandon the fine men and
women who died here but lived on as accursed zombies.
And that intent was the bond that tied them to this land.
Finally, just now, Adalmann realized the mistake he had
made.
So he connected together a complex seal with the bones
that were his hands and boldly declared his prayer to the
lands above. It was an incantation, as shown by the
complicated geometrical shapes that appeared in the air
before him.
This girl, Shuna… I have no grudge against her. If
anything, I owe her a great debt for opening my eyes. But
suicide is forbidden to me. I apologize, but I will need to
have you join me—
That apology came from the heart.
The checks placed upon him by Kazalim ranged far and
wide, holding Adalmann down—but if he was caught up in
the fallout from an attack on the enemy, that was hardly his
fault. He planned to destroy himself, taking Shuna along
him, for only then could he free the people who unwittingly
joined him.
A layered circle of magic spread out, covering Shuna and
Adalmann.
“—and render all to dust! Disintegration!!”
“I was waiting for that! Overdrive!!”
Just before Adalmann could complete his spell, Shuna
used Parser for a Control Laws rewrite. The results wrested
control of the local spiritual elements away from Adalmann,
driving them haywire.
“Wh-what…? You have less than a tenth of my magical
energy! How could you possibly overwrite my magic?!”
Magicules and spiritual particles were controlled by
magical force. Having his magic overwritten could only
mean that Adalmann’s force was overpowered by Shuna’s.
To him, Shuna looked hopelessly outclassed, but now, at
long last, Adalmann realized he was wrong on that score as
well.
“Impressive. Let me reward you by releasing you from
this land!”
The wight was swallowed up by a flood of light, unable to
hear Shuna’s words to the end. She had used magic on him,
realizing that someone like Adalmann—at least her equal in
terms of holy magic—could collect the energy required to
purify the local area. She wasn’t expecting him to break out
the most powerful of all holy spells, but luckily for her, she
knew how that one worked. That was what made it so easy
to overwrite.
 The light now permeated the land, enveloping not just
Adalmann but all the other undead—cleansing them.

Hakuro and Soei ran up to Shuna.

“I tell you, I wanted to end this sooner, but that death
knight was far more capable than I estimated. You saved my
life there, Lady Shuna.”
With the land fully cleansed, the death knight reverted
all the way down to a lowly skeletal fighter and fell to the
ground. Following Adalmann’s will, it had lost any further
desire to fight. The sight was enough to make Hakuro
realize the battle was over. He regretted losing such a
challenging opponent, but protecting Shuna took priority
over everything else, and she required his attention right
now.
“No, Hakuro, you were a great help to me. You too, Soei,
distracting that death dragon’s attention and buying me so
much time. If it had fallen out of our control, I doubt we
could have won.”
“It shames me that I could not defeat it.”
As Soei implied, the death dragon was a powerful foe,
capable of healing light damage instantly and boasting an
aura that infected the mind of anyone who touched it. It
took someone like him, capable of controlling multiple
Replications at once, to emerge from that unscathed. If
anything, he deserved praise for holding out so long against
a foe that shut down his decisive weapon.
The death dragon, too, vanished upon Adalmann’s defeat,
unable to maintain its existence after the magicule supply
that powered it was shut off. Soei didn’t much like how it
ended, but anything you can walk away from is a victory.
A victory, yes, but one with regrets. The three looked at
one another and sighed.
 “Still,” muttered Shuna, “if Adalmann had engaged me
seriously from the beginning, none of us would be alive,
would we? I think I let my anger drive me to be a little too
reckless.”
Adalmann never let up on her at all during the fight, but
he also never attempted anything underhanded to snare
her. If he really intended to kill them all, he could’ve done
so in many other ways. Shuna could see that, and it filled
her with regret.
“Quite true,” Hakuro commented. “Perhaps our new
strengths have made us grow a tad conceited.”
“Certainly. It is just as Sir Rimuru fretted about. There is
no telling what may happen in battle. I should have
gathered more intelligence.”
In the end, however, a win was a win. Clayman’s domain
had lost its main line of defense. But that didn’t end things.
The trio had a job to do—seize Clayman’s castle and fully
neutralize the threat inside.

Noncombatants comprised the majority of the people

remaining in the castle, none of whom signed any oath of
loyalty to Clayman. The more quick-witted among them, or
those who took the employment simply for money’s sake,
surrendered without a hint of resistance. There were also
many who were restrained in the castle by mental or
spiritual bonds, but a combination of persuasion and
magical de-cursing on Shuna’s part allowed them to
capture the entire castle in short order.

With the occupants neutralized, it was time to start

searching. They had already confirmed that the demon lord
Carillon wasn’t being held here, but they wanted to seek
out anything they might be able to use against Clayman.
As they did, a figure approached them.
“…Please, one moment.”
 “Mm? You’re still alive? Did you need me to finish you
off?”
“Wait, Hakuro. He has no will to fight left.”
It was Adalmann, and Shuna had to calmly keep Hakuro
from drawing his sword. The wight fell to his knees,
accompanied by a single skeletal fighter.
“Please, allow me to call you Lady Shuna. Thanks to your
magic, all of us have been released from the bonds that tied
us here. Perhaps it was fate that kept us alive without being
cleansed. I have a request that I hope you will let me
propose.”
“…What is that?” a quizzical Shuna asked, fearing this
would be yet more trouble for them.
“Thank you for hearing me out. I was hoping I would be
able to meet the figure that you have devoted your faith to,
Lady Shuna. When I lost my faith, I also lost the chance to
ever reach the heights of my power ever again. My faith in
my goddess Luminus is dead—and I need to find a new god
for myself.”
“““……””” The three each gave Adalmann incredulous
looks.
“I… Well, we have a great respect for Sir Rimuru, yes,
but we don’t worship him,” Shuna stammered in reply.
“Sir Rimuru, you say?” Adalmann was unfazed, still eager
to sell himself. “Truly a wonderful name, one fully worthy of
describing the glories of my new god. We may merely be a
pair of fragile undead, but I believe we may be able to offer
you assistance. Lady Shuna, would it be possible to arrange
an audience with this Sir Rimuru?”
Shuna wanted to remind Adalmann of the difference
between blindly, unconditionally worshipping someone and
treating them with respect while dealing with your
problems by yourself. But she didn’t. It seemed like too
much to get into. Instead, she conjured up a mental image
of Rimuru, the boingy slime she knew.
Well, why not? Once he sees Sir Rimuru in the flesh, that
might be enough to make him give up.
Adalmann seemed to be the type who got the wrong
impression of people easily. It would take time to persuade
him to think otherwise, so Shuna figured it’d be expeditious
for everyone involved if she just nodded and said yes.

Once the dust settled, Shuna was in command of

Adalmann and the several thousand undead that “survived”
the battle (or whatever it was that undead did). Clayman’s
castle was now fully conquered.
 CHAPTER 5

WALPURGIS

The impossibly ornate door connected right to the meeting

hall.
A large, round table was positioned in the center, with
twelve evenly spaced chairs surrounding it. Ten demon
lords were on the invite list (with Carillon absent), so two of
these seats would be empty even if I took up one. Attendees
sat in chronological order of their demon lord appointment,
and so I was placed right in front of the door—not that I
minded. My attention was focused in the room around me
anyway.
On an occasion like this, I wanted to observe my new
colleagues as much as possible. Of course, there were only
two people here right now. One was Ramiris, at the seat of
honor way on the other side. She was seated and kicking
her legs around, having a whale of a time, like a kid on a car
trip. I figured I could ignore her.

No, my attention was on her right, at the seat directly

facing me. There I saw a man with bewitchingly attractive
red hair. A man, definitely, but there was more than a touch
of femininity to his dashing good looks. His eyes were shut,
but I doubted he was napping.
One look was all I needed to know: This dude was
trouble. Analyze and Assess seemed to suggest that he
wasn’t any big deal, but my sixth sense was giving me the
eeriest vibes with him. At first glance, he seemed like an
inexperienced kid, kind of magically strong but unable to
control his aura. Without the Great Sage’s analytical skills, I
might’ve been tricked—that was how crafty he was at
hiding his true self, feeding the people around him
misinformation and making them underestimate his true
skills. We hadn’t even started fighting yet, and the battle
was already under way.
It made me recall the mind-reading skills of Gazel, the
dwarf king. Kind of like my Great Sage, nobody would know
you had that skill unless you told them. It wouldn’t be until
someone tried it on you that you’d notice it, I think, unless it
was a mind reading that went really deep into your psyche
to avoid that. As long as my latent resistance didn’t fail me,
I was pretty sure I’d be okay.
As a result of this, hiding your skills was very important.
You could also bluff people into thinking you had certain
skills or deliberately mess up a skill to make them think you
were inept to wield it. There were all kinds of ways to play
with your opponents’ minds, and that was exactly what this
pretty boy was doing—tricking other people’s Analyze and
Assess skills to mess around with them.
My idea had always been to hide my powers, keep my
aura turned down as long as possible, and give the enemy
zero information to work with. This guy, meanwhile, was
using his rivals’ data-gathering skills against them. It was a
sort of screening process. He was, in effect, asking his foes
“Do you have the power to read me?” If they didn’t, they
were out of the picture; if they did, he’d gauge their
response. If the fake info he planted into their minds was
enough to scare them off, they weren’t worth dealing with
in the first place—but if you did notice his trick, that glance
at the sheer depths of his powers would make you unable to
resist him.
But think of it like this. Even the data he wanted you to
know about indicated that he had as much magical force as
Carillon. There was no way to guess how much he actually
had. Even if you understood his game, it was hard not to let
it unnerve you a bit.
This was Guy, and he was clearly on a whole other level.

By the time I was done examining Guy, a large man

lumbered into the room, bringing only one guest with him.
This was Daggrull, the demon lord giant whose
overwhelming presence dominated any room he was in. He
immediately walked up and slammed himself into a seat at
Guy’s right, kicking back and putting his feet up. The empty
space between them must’ve belonged to Milim, indicating
that the table divided demon lords into two halves based on
their order, with Guy on one end and me on the other.
I turned my eyes to him. Guy was a tall figure himself,
but Daggrull was enormous, not to mention comfy-looking
in his specially made chair. Even something like this chair
was an opulent-looking magical item. This was Veldora’s
favorite rival, and the magic with which he presented
himself definitely signaled to me that he could take on a
dragon type.
Plus, the amount of magicule energy on him was just
ridiculous. Was that higher or lower than Veldora’s? It
seemed bottomless to me, but it’d be hard to accurately
measure unless I fought him for real. Still, quality beat
quantity. Just because he had a bunch of magicules on hand
didn’t make him seem that scary to me. The key was how
well he used them. Differences in skill level were a vital
aspect of any fight, of course, and a demon lord like
Daggrull couldn’t be that unskilled. I suppose I’ll need to
watch out for him, too.

Now another one came in, a handsome, muscle-bound

man decked out in some real fancy-looking threads. He was
tall, if not as tall as Daggrull, and his facial features looked
like they’d been chiseled. His short, curly blond hair looked
wild on his scalp, perhaps representing his violent
personality. To put it simply, he had Hollywood good looks,
and he knew how to charm people.
I suppose, of course, the thing that stuck out the most
were the two fangs visible from his lips. He must’ve been
the demon lord Valentine, the vampire. He sat to Ramiris’s
left, so in terms of the seat order, he must’ve been about as
old as Daggrull—that, or perhaps he just took over for
whoever he replaced. Not that seat assignments mattered
that much.
What struck me more were the pair Valentine brought
with him. One was an elderly man, kind of a manservant
type. Definitely well-trained, unmoving and statuesque. His
aura was restrained, revealing nothing—the same strategy
I used. The second one, meanwhile, was an eye-catchingly
beautiful silver-haired girl who seemed to shine like the
sun. Her skin was pale, and she had one red eye and one
blue. There was something oddly eerie about this girl, who
appeared to be on the cusp of adulthood and was clad in a
maid-style dress. Maid dresses are like battle uniforms, as
they say, and it wouldn’t be odd for this girl to be pretty
strong.
And these two were both working for this guy? That’s a
surprise. The girl, in particular, was just letting her gigantic
aura out all over the place. But—hang on. When our eyes
met, I was struck by the most uncomfortable feeling. Maybe
I was imagining it, but it seemed like she was changing the
nature of her aura at random.

Understood. Analyze and Assess indicates that the target

likely bears more magicules than the demon lord Valentine.

Ah, I knew it. I couldn’t read her overall energy count,

but it’s higher than Valentine’s, the guy she’s serving. It
was very cleverly concealed—if you didn’t have an ultimate
skill like mine, you’d never spot it. But again, they weren’t
really intent on hiding it—like Guy, they wanted to assess
you, see whether you spotted it or not.
Could this girl be the real demon lord? Or perhaps the
previous holder of this seat, the demon lord that retired
out. Maybe this is that “Milus,” the vampiress that even
Veldora had high praise for. The changeover happened
more than 1,500 years ago, so perhaps not too many demon
lords knew about that—or did but were keeping mum about
it. Or didn’t care. Either way, better be careful.
Valentine, the current demon lord, was no pushover
himself. He had a heroic sort of ambition, even more than
an untransformed Carillon, so there was no reason to doubt
his strength. And if that wasn’t enough, she had that freaky
girl with her. If it was her domain that got burned to ash, it
wouldn’t be strange for her to despise Veldora at all. I
resisted the urge to yell “Why’d you have to piss that lady
off?!”
At least there was one saving grace—who wouldn’t mind
dying by the hand of such a beautiful figure? (Quite a few
people, I imagine, but…) I’ll just have to hope she doesn’t
learn about Veldora and me—or if she does, that I don’t
have to clean up the mess.

After a little while, the fifth person showed up—this one a

loner, almost sleepwalking to his post. He had two swords
on his belt, but that’s it. Not much of an arsenal. I got a
quick glance at his eyes; they were light blue. His hair was
a very dark shade of purple with silver streaks in it. He still
looked young to me, maybe even high-school age, and he
had well-defined facial features, although they were spoiled
by his sleepy eyes and general listlessness.
He stopped by Ramiris’s seat to say hello. “Yo. Man,
you’re still, like, the size of a bug, huh?”
“Oh, you trying to start a fight with me? Like you could
even handle me, Deeno.”
So person number five was Deeno. He definitely seemed
cut from the same cloth as her. Neither was seriously riled;
they seemed to just be screwing with each other.
“Why would I need to, dumbass? Like, it’s totally obvious
who would win.”
“Pfft! I didn’t realize you were in that much of a hurry to
die. I’m in perfect physical form today, I’ll have you know!”
“Uh-huh. Hey, haven’t you shrunk since last time I saw
you?”
“What do you want from me?! I only just got reborn
recently!”
When I asked her about it, Ramiris said she had been
resurrected around five hundred years ago. It would
apparently take her several centuries to fully mature. This
seemed to convince Deeno.
“Ohhh, that’s why? That’s kinda a pain for you, isn’t it?
But you kept all your memories, right?”
“My memories, yes. But my spirit’s degenerated along
with my body… Ooh, but I’m still the strongest outta all of
you! I need a handicap like this, or it’s no fun!”
“Guy, I think Ramiris is sayin’ something? Did you hear
her just now?”
“Bahhh?! What are you, stupid? I know how to pick my
enemies, all right? I’m not saying I could KO Guy in one
punch or anything!”
A bigmouth like her changed her stripes all too quickly. I
guess that red-haired guy really was Guy, too, and judging
by Ramiris’s freak-out, he really was a menace. I’ll just
write “Guy = dangerous” in my internal notepad. It’s little
notes like these that have saved me from peril more than
once. You can’t underestimate the power of that.
The two kept on talking in hushed voices so as not to rile
Guy. They were discussing Beretta and Treyni, Ramiris’s
guests, and of course Ramiris was bragging up and down
about them.
“Wha? Why’s a total loner like you got attendants here?”
Deeno complained. “You’re making me look like a dweeb for
showing up alone!”
“Hee-heeeee! Now I can get back at everyone for calling
me a little shrimp and a loner, you in particular! Wait’ll you
see how powerless you are against these guys!”
“Oh, you want us to fight? Is it okay if I rip ’em up?”
“Huh? Of course it’s not okay! If you break them, I’m
seriously going to tell on you to Guy and make him make
you pay for it!”
It’s like Guy was her big brother or something. It was
breathtaking how quickly she let other people do the dirty
work for her.
“…But really, man, these guys are the real deal. Like, I
looked at ’em for real just now, and it’s like, damn!”
Beretta and Treyni silently nodded at Deeno. They were
far too good for Ramiris, really.
“Right! You see? You see, you see? Now I’ve got some
muscle to back up my words, know what I mean?” Ramiris
stuck out her chest (not that she had much of one) to show
up Deeno. Their upgrades were entirely my doing, but ah
well.
Beretta and Treyni remained silent. They were the
perfect attendants. They didn’t speak, and the dozing Shion
behind me could definitely learn a thing or two from them.
Once he finished saying his hellos, Deeno stumbled over
to his seat. It was next to Valentine’s, making him another
member of the old guard. Deeno ignored Valentine entirely
as he sat down…and immediately put his head on the table
and started sleeping. That seemed kind of rude. Maybe
demon lords didn’t make it a habit to say hi to one another,
and all those put-downs with Ramiris were the exception to
the rule.
Deeno couldn’t have acted less interested in being here.
Showing up was enough for him, it seemed, but falling
asleep without even bothering to read the room was, in a
way, incredibly self-centered. Fearless, too.
I suppose that act had to be backed up with some actual
ability. Hopefully. Let’s go with that. He was jamming my
skills a bit, so I couldn’t be sure of what he had. He stared
at me with his half-open eyes whenever I tried analyzing
him, so he had to have noticed. That banter with Ramiris
made me think he was pretty chill, but I definitely shouldn’t
put my guard down. Given the rapport he seemed to have
with Ramiris, though, I hoped I didn’t have to make him my
enemy.

The next one through the door was the empress of the
harpies, the demon lord Frey. Milim told me about her, and
let me tell you, she was explosively erotic. I wondered how
she flew with those breasts; they must generate a ton of
wind resistance.
…Oops. My mind’s going off track. But can you blame
me? That was just the sheer impact of her appearance.
Once she stepped inside, her eyes turned first to Milim’s
empty seat and then to me. Even the way she turned her
head was mesmerizing. I mean, come on… And when she
passed by, oh, what a wonderful aroma she had on her.
As I basked in this, I felt something sinister behind my
back. Shion was clearly peeved. Must’ve noticed I was
letting that perfume get the best of me. Well spotted, Shion.
Riling her any further was too scary a concept to entertain,
so I reset my mind and got back to business.
Her magicule count wasn’t anything to write home about
—maybe smaller than Shion’s or Benimaru’s. Of course,
Shion could probably line up well with Valentine at this
point, so I’m not saying it was that tiny. Quality, not quantity.
It’d be foolish to judge on this alone. In terms of chest size,
meanwhile, it was really hard to pick a winner— Oops.
Better not think about that.
If I had to guess, maybe she had a lot of hidden skills?
That was the kind of concerning vibe I got.
What was worth noting were her attendants. One was
another big-breasted harpy, on the same level as Frey. She
was young, and her body was about as lascivious as they
come. The other was a large man, his magical energy on
par with Frey’s. He had huge, eagle-like wings sprouting
from his back, so he must’ve been a male harpy. He was a
measure smaller than Daggrull but otherwise could give
Valentine a run for his money in muscles and good looks,
although the lion mask on his face made the latter part
unclear.
Wait. Lion?

Report. According to my analysis and assessment—

Yeah. No way, right? I mean, this guy felt totally different

from Carillon. It had to be some other guy. I didn’t need
Raphael to spell it out for me. I’m not that dumb.

……

There was no way the AWOL Carillon would attend

Walpurgis with such an obvious ploy. He’d be more careful
with it, taking pains to act prudently. They say there are at
least three people in the world who look exactly like you,
and I’m sure that’s the story with this guy, too.

As I observed them, I was struck by the odd feeling that a

chilly wind was blowing over me. I turned to find a blond-
haired beauty coming in, blessed with looks that only the
gods themselves could have given her. She walked right up
to me.
 “…You are Rimuru?”
“Yeah, but—”
I thought about saying “Yeah, but who’re you?” at first. I
definitely didn’t know her—but then it dawned on me.
There were four demon lords left. Carillon was missing, and
that just left Clayman, Milim, and Leon. Leon was blond-
haired, I think, and beautiful enough that people called him
the Platinum Devil… Hmm…
“…Oh, you’re Leon? Did you need something?”
“Yes, I am Leon. And no, I need nothing from you. The
sight of you brought back some memories, is all.”
It was him. He was beautiful, so much so that you could
easily mistake him for a woman. In my past life, I probably
would’ve been jealous enough to wish for him to get hit by a
truck. He was formerly human, I was told, but kept a
majestic presence about him—the majesty of a demon lord.
And I brought back “memories”? I suppose my face was
essentially Shizu’s at a young age. So Leon must have—
“Shizu’s dead, Leon.”
Seeing me simply conjured up old memories of Shizu in
his mind.
“I know,” he coldly stated. “And of course she would be.
She took in Ifrit but refused to become a magic-born.”
“She asked me to punch you out for her. Mind letting me
do that?”
I just kind of blurted it out. I wasn’t trying to start stuff; I
just didn’t like how Leon was talking about her. It was
maybe a little too direct, but Leon handled it with calm
composure.
“No, thank you. I wanted her to live as a human being. I
even gave her Ifrit as a farewell gift. I see no reason why I
deserve a beating for it.”
What a disappointment. I figured he’d be enraged, but
he just calmly fired back at me.
“…But I do have a bit of an interest in you. If you have an
issue with me, I’ll happily invite you to come visit. You can
turn down the offer, of course, if you think it’s a trap.”
Talk about a one-sided deal. He was basically daring me
to chicken out. I had to accept it.
“All right. I’ll do that. Feel free to send an invitation, if
you get around to it.”
I didn’t say anything more after that.
Leon nodded, looking a little annoyed. “I will. Assuming
you walk out of this meeting hall alive, that is.”
With that blunt rejoinder, Leon settled down in the seat
just to my left. It was his way of saying our conversation was
over. For now, I was fine with that. I got to tell him about
Shizu, and I now knew that Leon wasn’t out to antagonize
me. At least not here at the Council. He wouldn’t have said
yes to that invitation thing if he was.
Maybe it was just postponing the dispute for later, but
right now, I wanted to focus on Clayman as my enemy.

These proceedings all unfolded in the hour after we

reached the meeting hall at midnight. It looked like the
older demon lords had been guided in first, with me getting
a head start because I happened to be traveling with
Ramiris. It wasn’t any official rule, though, given that
people like Leon could travel here themselves.
All that remained were Clayman and Milim. And just
when I thought the Council was about to begin, Benimaru
tossed a Thought Communication my way.
(Sir Rimuru, may I brief you for a moment?)
This hall seemed like it was in another dimension of sorts,
but I guess this link with Benimaru still worked?

Understood. A soul circuit has been established with the

monsters under your command. The link is using this to
allow your conscious to interact with them.

Oh. That sort of thing?

I guess this soul circuit got hooked up with the gifts I
handed out to everyone for my evolution. It didn’t seem as
robust as the connection I had with Veldora, but it was good
enough for talking, at least.
So I asked what was up. Apparently, the battle ended less
than an hour after it began—incredibly lopsided and pretty
much as we planned it. Our side had numerous casualties
but no deaths. Clayman’s forces had at least a thousand
killed in action and over three thousand wounded. That was
fewer deaths than I expected, but in this world where you
can always get healed as long as you stayed alive, that
much was a given.
Still, that was a massive, overwhelming victory. We
managed to take some prisoners as well, so I couldn’t ask
for much more.

Yamza, the enemy commander, had turned into

Charybdis for some strange reason, but Benimaru was kind
enough to vaporize the guy for me. Apparently. I’m not
really sure what all that meant, so I just kind of glossed over
it for now.
…Or I wanted to. But how did he deal with Charybdis’s
Magic Interference?

Understood. A number of Arts and skills combined with

the unique skill Born Leader allowed him full control over
Hellflare.

Aha. So he used control beyond what Magic Interference

could handle to hit it with a direct, massive wave of heat.
Easy for me to say, but that has to require a hell of a lot of
talent. Benimaru’s gotten stronger than I even imagined.
Pretty hot stuff.

One factor we didn’t expect was the Dragon Faithful.

They were reportedly a pretty formidable fighting force, as
you’d expect from Milim’s followers. We didn’t lose anyone
to them because they weren’t really out there seeking to
kill…but I guess it was my bad for not thinking about them.
I figured a force of a hundred-odd was no big deal, but I
was wrong. Wars in this world depended more on the
powers of a few than the many, but my conventional wisdom
from my old world was making me forget that.
Lucky thing that didn’t result in any major breakdowns.
I’d have to be more careful next time.

Based on Benimaru’s report, we had a general idea of

Clayman’s story.
The force led by Yamza was marching on the pretext of
investigating Carillon’s betrayal. They wanted to collect
evidence that he backstabbed the other demon lords, killed
one of Clayman’s top leaders, and was connected to me.
Well, not collect. More like concoct.
With our victory today, that line was cut off. I didn’t know
what kind of excuses he would come up with here, but I
didn’t imagine they would be well received by any other
demon lord. Of course, I intended to kill off Clayman in the
end, and I was prepared to do the same to anyone who got
in my way. Let’s just try to steer this so I’d secure victory
here in the easiest way possible.
I’ll be counting on you, Raphael!

……

Raphael’s rarin’ to go, too. That’s a relief.

 Whoops, here’s another report from Soei. Sounds like
they’ve captured Clayman’s headquarters. Man, there is
just no mercy with that guy. Hakuro pitched in a hell of an
effort, too, but apparently Shuna shined the brightest in the
fight.
Also, it turns out that I now have an army of undead for
some reason? I sort of missed the plot on that, and Soei was
being oddly vague about the whole thing, simply stating
“Lady Shuna will explain the details later.”
The most important thing, though, was that Carillon
wasn’t being held in Clayman’s castle. Plus:
(—We discovered the castle’s treasury, so we’ve called
upon Geld to begin the transport process. The room
included some evidence linking Clayman to the Moderate
Jesters, which I think should help your case.)
Wow. No mercy. We’re even pillaging Clayman’s treasure
vault. That doesn’t count as theft, does it? Oh, well. No
point sweating the small stuff. We’ll just call it collecting
damages for all the trouble Clayman gave us. There’s
reportedly a lot, which should help our own budget out
greatly.
More important, however, was that dossier of evidence.
Benimaru had sent some over for me, and Soei had
discovered some more. All of it was now safely received in
my Stomach, and with it, I should be able to shut down the
basis for any excuse he comes up with. It’d be important to
make myself look good around here.

So, much quicker than I expected, we had thoroughly

and completely crushed Clayman’s force. It’d remain to be
seen how he’d approach this Council, but let’s try using
these developments to my advantage.
…And then, just as I finished reading the reports,
Clayman finally appeared before me.
He was more handsome than I pictured him—and high-
strung. His clothing looked expensive, and I suppose he
placed a lot of importance on his appearance, because he
was sporting a whole array of Unique equipment that would
make him a more-than-decent fighter. It certainly befitted
his image as a demon lord not to be trifled with.
What struck me the most, however, was the fox he was
carrying in his arms. It was packed to the gills with
magicules and mystical force, maybe even up to demon lord
levels. That was one of his attendants, and I suppose a
demon lord’s servants had to be pretty damn powerful, too.
That, and I tried running an Analyze and Assess on him,
and something interesting caught my eye there. I didn’t
want to coast on this just because we had occupied his HQ.
It was important to finish him off right.
Anyway, Milim followed behind him, completing the
night’s attendee list.
All were real monsters, ready to burn you at a moment’s
notice. Doing the A and A once-over on Leon produced
nothing useful, either. It was kind of funny, seeing Raphael
say that it couldn’t analyze something. It meant he had an
ultimate skill of his own, something on the same level as
mine.
Then I made a realization. Guy had let me read fake info,
but was that his way of fending off ultimate skills? If I
couldn’t use my ultimate to analyze something, it meant the
target had an ultimate, too. That may be why he was
feeding me a bunch of nonsense instead—I just happened to
know it was fake nonsense because Raphael was smart
enough to see that. If it hadn’t noticed, I could easily have
been tricked.
This meant, of course, that Guy had an ultimate skill as
well. I suspected Milus (?) did, too, and Leon definitely did.
An ultimate was several orders of magnitude more powerful
than a unique skill requiring an intersection of one’s
attributes, luck, and a plethora of incidental conditions.
They were rare—uncommon enough that even a true,
awakened demon lord may not have one, and all were great
as a last-resort ace in the hole.
That was why I needed to be extra careful here. That,
and—ugh—it was safe to assume Guy knew I possessed an
ultimate now. Big mistake. My lack of experience playing
this game screwed me there. I was dealing with some of the
orneriest demon lords out there; I should’ve been more on
the alert.
Still, what’s done is done. It wasn’t a lethal mistake,
either. I just needed to figure out how to deal with it. It’s
easy to hide mind-reading skills, just as Gazel did. Guy still
didn’t know what type of skill I had, so I probably didn’t
need to be too hung up about it. Hell, I could even use this
to make them think I’m a fool. To be exact, I would direct
Raphael to hide everything at all costs, but maybe show off
one ultimate skill that was okay to reveal as my trump card.
That way, I could still keep a few cards hidden at all times,
right?
It was a gutsy bit of subterfuge, but I was safe in pulling
it off with the four ultimate skills I enjoyed. I was planning
on kicking up one hell of a storm in the upcoming battle
against Clayman anyway, which would make the debut of—

Suggestion. Hiding Belzebuth, Lord of Gluttony would be

difficult.

Yeah, I think you’re right. It was a great offensive and

defensive weapon, capable of consuming and destroying
nearly any attack thrown at it. Predation was a pretty core
battle tactic for me, so revealing Belzebuth seemed like a
good idea. Let’s go with that as my main battle weapon,
keeping my other skills hidden until otherwise needed.
I suppose I’m glad that I noticed the need for something
like this early on. If I got out of here safely, I’d need to
rethink my battle tactics a little. No point being reluctant to
use my skills if it wound up killing me.

After that moment of regret, I saw one of the most

amazing sights of my life.
“Move it, you half-wit!”
Out of nowhere, Clayman closed-fist punched Milim. That
Milim.
“Sit yourself down, you stupid dunce,” he said, ruthlessly
bossing her around. I thought I’d explode in anger, but I
held it in. Not yet. Just a bit longer. I have to hold back until
I have the chance to declare it all, following the rules.
But what on earth happened to Milim? Milim the
Destroyer? If it was Clayman being punched, well, that’d
just be Milim being Milim. But this? Oh, man, I fear for his
safety…
…and yet, despite this bout of violence, Clayman didn’t
look like he’d be decapitated anytime soon. Milim did
nothing to resist or complain about his treatment. She just
followed his orders and sat at her seat.
This is weird. Is she under his control after all? I may
have to consider the worst-case scenario here. And to add
insult to injury, some of the other demon lords, Daggrull
and Deeno included, were looking similarly flummoxed at
this. Guy was stone-faced; I don’t know what he was
thinking.
Clayman, meanwhile, was looking like he was king of the
world, his superiority complex written all over his face. It
made my anger burn all over again… Don’t expect your
death to be an easy one, Clayman. You’ll pay for hitting my
friend.
And with that oath to myself, Clayman’s death was now
set in stone. I had no intention of forgiving him, no matter
the excuse. But there was no need for panic. The Council
had only just begun.

The event was attended by a total of nine people, minus

Carillon:

“Lord of Darkness” Guy Crimson (demon)

“Destroyer” Milim Nava (dragonoid)
“Labyrinth Master” Ramiris (pixie)
“Earthquake” Daggrull (giant)
“Bloody Lord” Roy Valentine (vampire)
“Sleeping Ruler” Deeno (fallen)
“Sky Queen” Frey (harpy)
“Marionette Master” Clayman (walking dead)
“Platinum Saber” Leon Cromwell (ex-human)

…And then, me—the subject of this Council, the slime

who’d dare call himself demon lord.

Raine, the maid in Guy’s service, made all the above

introductions in her clear, loud voice.
Leon was the one who piqued my interest the most. I
seem to remember his nickname being the Platinum Devil,
but now he was acting all cool and calling himself the
Platinum Saber. He certainly looked more the part of a
dashing swordsman, but who thought up these nicknames
anyway? They didn’t make them up themselves, did they? …
Well, I probably shouldn’t comment, given my track record
for naming things. Let’s let that topic die on the vine.

After the intros ended, Clayman stood up as the host.

“All right. First, thanks to all of you for answering my
invitation and coming here. It is now time to begin our
festival! I hereby declare this Walpurgis Council convened!”
Thus, with the chance for cataclysmic events electrifying
the air around us, the event kicked off.

Taking advantage of his position as chairman, Clayman

started things off by going into a speech, eyeing all of us in
order and looking supremely satisfied with himself. His eyes
stopped for just a moment when they reached Valentine,
but maybe I imagined it—that’s got nothing to do with me
anyway.
Leon was seated to my left; the chair on my right was
empty, and to its right were Clayman’s and the absent
Carillon’s seats.
Clayman went on for a while, explaining matters with an
obvious sense of pride, and I diligently listened to all of it.
Here’s the executive summary:

• The demon lord Carillon enticed me into declaring

myself a demon lord. This allegation is backed up by the
fact that Carillon’s armies are stationed in our town.
• He then incited the kingdom of Farmus into attacking
the Great Forest of Jura, requesting my cooperation to fend
them off and using that as an excuse to meddle with human
nations.
• After defeating Farmus, I assumed the title of demon
lord, enjoying Carillon’s support behind the scenes.

This kind of unauthorized collusion violated the demon

lords’ agreements.
He was better prepared to make this argument than I
gave him credit for. It was all a bunch of nonsense, totally
ignoring the actual timeline of events, but proving that
would be difficult. All of this happened at the same time as
the demon lords withdrew from their mutual nonaggression
agreement for the Forest of Jura, and (as he bluntly put it)
there was no excusing that. As if, you know, I cared about
that.
“…That is the testimony I have received from Mjurran,
one of my advisers. However, upon briefing me about this,
she was murdered— by that fool over there, Rimuru. Thus, I
decided to exact my revenge.”
What is he, a thespian? If not, he missed his calling. He
almost convinced me, even… Almost. I mean, Mjurran’s
pretty alive right now.
“Rimuru was conspiring with Carillon to make an attempt
upon my life. And with her last gasps of breath, Mjurran
sent me a magical missive to inform me of the plot.”
He paused a moment, pretending to be overcome with
emotion. His handsome looks certainly made it a moving
sight, but it mostly served to rankle my nerves.
 So he’s saying I tried to kill him to claw my way into a
demon lord’s seat? And it was Carillon who engineered it
all? I have to say, that’s a pretty impressive story to make
up. If you actually knew Carillon and how relentlessly in
your face and warlike he was, it’d be enough to make you
blurt out laughing.
Clayman’s tales continued, meandering here and there,
but basically, he was accusing Carillon of betraying the
Council. This enraged Milim enough to destroy the Beast
Kingdom of Eurazania, and Carillon was now dead. Hmm.
Dead? Not missing? That seemed unnatural enough to
worry me, but I kept on listening.
Milim had taken action out of concern for Clayman, but
he had rebuked her, since wrecking nations without any
evidence was generally frowned upon. Ever since, she had
fostered an affinity for Clayman, relying on and trusting in
him—and with his adviser Mjurran dead, Clayman decided
to send out a force to secure evidence linking me to
Carillon. In addition, he wished to use this Council to
discuss how to handle me, after I tried to kill him and
declare my rights as demon lord.
The tale he wove couldn’t have possibly painted him in a
better light. I was impressed.

But, man, he just kept on talking forever. I wanted to

counter his excuses with a little logic of my own. My
intention was to show my innocence, prove that my actions
were justifiable, and then crush Clayman, after all. That was
why I was sitting here politely and hearing him out, but my
patience was reaching its limits.
Could we maybe get started soon?
Listening to his tale, I had noticed a pretty decisive hole
in his logic—his evidence. His entire dossier of evidence was
made up of testimony, all from a single witness—Mjurran,
the ring finger, who had sworn absolute loyalty to Clayman.
It made me laugh. Not only was she alive, but the Mjurran-
related evidence he presented was as flimsy as a plastic
bag. I suppose he ran out of time to fabricate anything
more substantial than that.
All in all, it seemed like I could build a pretty credible
case for myself. I already had all the evidence I needed.
“…That concludes my case,” Clayman bellowed, looking
all self-important. “Hopefully, everybody in the room now
fully understands that Rimuru, that trifling magic-born over
there, is nothing more than a charlatan posing as a demon
lord. I believe that a purge is in order here…”
The other demon lords must have been pretty darn
patient if they were willing to put up with all this prattling.
Some of them had already nodded off, it seemed. I guess it
was okay, as long as you didn’t bother anyone. The only
rule, I surmised, was that you had to shut up and listen to
the guy who convened the Council to start with.
Now we were all free to state our own opinions—and I
was ready for it. Raine, who must’ve been taking the emcee
post, turned her eyes to me.
“We will now listen to testimony from our visitor.”
Ugh, finally. I had been patient long enough. No more of
this clowning around.
“So, um, Clayman, right? You’re a liar.”
“What?”
“I mean, honestly speaking, I don’t give a crap about
demon lords. That story about Carillon luring me into this is
a load of BS, and Farmus attacked us out of their own
greed. Those two things aren’t related to each other at all.”
Clayman gave me an irritated sneer. “Ha! Who would
ever believe trite excuses like that? One of my most senior
advisers has been killed!”
Here we go. Just what I’ve been waiting for.
“Yeah, Mjurran, right? Well, I didn’t kill her. In fact, she’s
alive.”
“Pah! Of all the ludicrous—”
 “Whoa, whoa, hear me out. Pretty much all of that
speech was based off verbal testimony and your own
conjecturing. And maybe that’d be enough to deal with
some rank and filer, but it won’t work on me. Mjurran, your
supposed tipster, is under my protection. That’s why I’m not
letting you mess with me, and that’s why your testimony has
absolutely no credibility whatsoever.”
Going into that much detail made even Clayman go a bit
pale. But he had no intention of ceding his point.
“Heh-heh. You’re willing to stoop to such lows, then? Did
you meddle with her corpse and install some evil spirit
inside?”
It was a spur-of-the-moment accusation but not an insane
one. In a world as rich with magic as this one, you could
even make the dead seem alive if you wanted. Talk about
freaky—and another reason why you couldn’t trust oral
testimony like that.
“Well,” I said, “I wasn’t planning to believe anything you
said anyway. That’s why I figured I’d come over there and
beat you up myself, but I wound up changing my mind.
Before this Council began, my forces gathered some
evidence of their own.”
I flashed a smile as I attempted to show him up. This
enraged him, I could tell. He was easier to toy with than I
thought.
“What are you trying to say? If you want to die that badly,
just come out and say it—”
“Calm down a sec,” I said, cutting him off. “I told you, I
have evidence.”
I then produced several crystal balls from my pocket,
teleporting them to the center of the round table and
magically triggering them one after the other. Each one
contained its own video image, including one featuring me
fighting the orc general and another shot from Gelmud’s
point of view. Shuna had found them all in the ancient castle
Clayman called home.
 One of them, meanwhile, contained footage from the
battle fought just today. It was taken by Benimaru, from his
vantage point overseeing the entire landscape, and it
contained some really juicy stuff.
“S-stop! Stop that! Please, Sir Clayman, stop this at
once!”
Right there, in the ball, Clayman’s field general was
screaming and being transformed into an incomplete
Charybdis. And that wasn’t all.
“…This is quite a surprise. I was expecting Yamza to turn
tail and flee. But imagine…”
“Clayman’s forces are destroyed. The mission’s a failure
—the losses immense…”
“…Well, Laplace warned him. Clayman can’t blame
anyone for it but himself. We’ll need to brief him about
this…”
That conversation between the two weird jesters Geld
and Phobio had witnessed was all on video. Probably
Footman and Teare from the Moderate Jesters, I assumed.
With Laplace’s name popping up, it had to be them. That
and “him”—I thought Clayman was behind all this, but it
seemed like there was someone else. Maybe…

Understood. It is estimated that all of this is connected.

…I thought so. Whoever it was that tried to make me

fight Hinata was also controlling Clayman. That explains the
timing—while I was busy fighting the Western Holy Church,
this figure had Clayman spur Farmus into combat, and then
that whole tragedy unfolded.
Maybe I could understand all this, even if I didn’t
appreciate it much. But you went too far, Clayman. So I’m
taking you down. Don’t resent me for it. In this world, it’s
survival of the fittest.
I proudly beamed at him. “This is what real evidence
looks like, Clayman.”
Having this stuff with me definitely made things proceed
more quickly, but even if I didn’t have it, it would’ve turned
out the same way. I was gonna crush him with my own force
anyway, so all I really needed was something to shoot down
his lame excuses with. It wasn’t a matter of good or evil—it
was all about keeping up appearances. Besides, I had real
evidence here, and I saw no reason for anyone to complain
about that.
“You, you couldn’t! All of this was fabricated! Fake
images, built with magic, to prop up your lies! How could
you be so base, you slime?!”
“Lies? They aren’t lies, you dummy. Your army’s all done.
And you’re joining them next.”
Clayman turned toward me, face scrunched up in anger.
“Ev… Everyone, you can’t listen to this trickster! This
slime, Rimuru, is a notorious bluffer. He undoes the seal on
Veldora to destroy the Farmus force, and then he parades
around pretending he did the act himself. He’s just a little
slime, all bark and no bite! And it is simply outrageous that
he dares to deceive us all in the proud demon lord family!”
It was an impassioned speech. As if he wasn’t the one
relying on others to save his ass. As if he wasn’t the little
one. If he was acting right now, like I said, he was a pretty
good actor.
“Look, Clayman…”
This was Daggrull, his voice just as grounded and
dignified as his appearance. Wasn’t expecting him to speak
up.
“Didn’t you say just now that Rimuru goaded the
kingdom of Farmus into attacking? If the news of Veldora’s
resurrection is true, why would he execute it in such a
roundabout fashion?”
“…All right. Allow me to explain.”
Clayman looked lost for a moment but then opened his
mouth again, ready to commit to this tale—the story of the
attempt to collect people’s souls to awaken into a true
demon lord. I suppose he wanted to keep that under his hat
so that the other demon lords wouldn’t get the jump on
him, but Daggrull had forced him to fess up.
“…This low-class, unwitting slime must have had the
incredible good fortune to acquire the traits of a demon
lord. But he must have let it go to his head, for he then
traveled to the human realms to investigate the truth
behind what he obtained. That drove him to set off a war
with the humans on a whim, using the banished Veldora to
stage a brutal genocide.”
He was doing his best to convince the table, complete
with overblown, theatrical hand motions.
“Leaving someone like this free to maraud again would
damage our very reputations as demon lords. I believe he
must be purged, but what is your opinion?”
“So cough up some evidence,” I retorted. “Not that you
have any, do you? Everything you said was just a bunch of
‘wouldn’t it be nice if…’ junk, and you still think they’re all
gonna swallow it?”
Clayman gave me another unamused glare. It didn’t
bother me. I was already sick of putting up with his pathetic
accusations.
“Ngh… Why does some slime claiming the might of a
dragon for himself think he has the right to defy us?! There
is no way you could ever become a demon lord!”
“Whether I’m a slime or not doesn’t matter, and besides,
Veldora’s my friend. I’m not here to listen to you go on with
your bullshit, all right? Can we get to the point, please? Just
admit it. Phobio, the magic-born in that video, just showed
us how Charybdis was resurrected at your demand, right?
As those jesters guided him to. And now one of your own
men transformed into Charybdis and went insane. That’s
what I’m talking about when I say solid evidence. If you
think I’m bluffing, go right ahead, ’cause you’ll be thinking
that all the way to the grave.”
 I shot to my feet, kicking up the adjacent seat as I did,
and tried to look as threatening as possible. Casually, I
placed my hand on part of the round table in front of me—
and in an instant, the large table disappeared. Nothing to
be surprised about. I just stored it in my Belzebuth. Now we
had a decent-size space to work with.
The chair I kicked up sailed in the direction of Clayman,
smashing against the wall behind him with a loud crash.
This didn’t faze the demon lords, either. Only Clayman was
unnerved by it.
“All of you are willing to put up with this reckless
violence?! He is making light of us all. Should we not be
exacting our judgment upon him at once?!”
What, all of them? I always knew he was a wimp. I
walked to the middle of where the table used to be.
“Yeah, maybe you’re right. Like I said, I don’t care about
you demon lords at all. All I want is to build a nation that I
can enjoy living in. I need the humans’ cooperation for that,
so I decided to offer my protection to them. Anyone who
gets in the way of that, whether a person or a demon lord
or the Holy Church, is my enemy. Just like you are,
Clayman.”
I explained my ideals to the group with far more passion
than Clayman could ever manage.
“What?!”
“And if you call that reckless violence,” I said as I sized
him up, “what would you call taking over someone’s mind
while we’re all chatting at Walpurgis?”
Did he think I wouldn’t notice? In the midst of that whole
speech, that little sneak was launching mind-control attacks
at me. If I had to guess, he was trying to dominate my
consciousness. Too bad it didn’t work; Raphael was
guarding me the whole time, so I had it fully taken care of.
At least I had a justifiable cause on the table, so to speak.
That was now in the ears of all the demon lords, and
Clayman had already started trying to strike me. If any of
them wanted to oppose me, it was now or never.
Time to switch over to real action.

I had asked the question to Clayman, but it was

answered by someone else—Guy, the red-haired demon lord
seated on the far side of the chamber.
“Indeed,” he said with a charmingly attractive smile. “In
order to keep things fair, we are only allowed to appeal to
others through our own voices.”
“But, Guy, he is insulting us all—”
“Shut up,” I interrupted. “If you don’t like it, then it’s
between you and me, isn’t it?”
“He is correct, Clayman. If you call yourself a demon lord,
then use your powers to defeat that magic-born. And you—”
Guy looked straight at me. “Do you intend to declare
yourself a demon lord?”
“Yep. I’m already leader of the Great Forest of Jura, and
as far as anyone on the ground’s concerned, I am one.”
No matter the path we had to take to get there, I
imagined they would all accept that I’d teamed with the
Storm Dragon to rule the forest. There was no point
denying that Tempestians were already calling me demon
lord.
“Very well. And we have an array of witnesses here as
well. If you can win against Clayman before us, I will allow
you to adopt the title.”
So beating Clayman ties up all these little strings, huh?
This was exactly the development I hoped for.

Clayman began to laugh, just as suddenly as he regained

his composure a moment ago.
“Heh-heh-heh… How exasperating. I simply attempted a
little trick because I didn’t want to dirty my own hands, and
now look at the storm I’ve unleashed. What a mistake.”
He was smiling the whole time. Did he have a screw
loose? His thin, almost inhuman smile was still clinging to
life as he looked at me. And then, quietly:
“You’re up, Milim.”
Tension raced across the chamber. Even the demon lords
were nervous, although some were maintaining perfect
calm as always.
My eyes turned to Milim. There was the source of
Clayman’s confidence—the belief that he had her under his
control. Control that he exercised right at that moment.
So she was…?
“Wow. What a bigmouth. After everything you said,
you’re relying on someone else? And bringing in Milim after
you punched her out to make her do your bidding?”
I tried provoking him a little, but not even Clayman was
stupid enough to bite.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I will be fighting, too, of course. Is
there any issue with that, Guy?”
“Not at all, Clayman. If Milim is aiding you on her own
free will, I will not stop her.”
This…wasn’t good. Clayman I had a handle on, but Milim
was deadly. With Guy so readily granting permission, there
was no way I could dodge having to fight her. Even with
what I could do by now, I didn’t like my prospects against
her—and besides, I wanted to help her out. No, I will help
her out!
Just then, the unmoving, doll-like Milim made two fists
and struck an overwrought, triumphant pose…or so it
looked like to me. Maybe not. It was just for an instant; I
dunno.
Man. Poor lady. Don’t worry, Milim, I swore in my heart.
I’ll get you out of there.
“Well, all right. I was planning to rescue Milim anyway, so
I think I’ll just undo that brainwashing trick you pulled on
her—by force, if I need to.”
“Enough of your prattle! You will die in despair.”
“The only one dyin’ here is you, Clayman. I think one of
my officers would make a better match against the likes of
you. Fighting you myself would just make me a bully.”
Clayman’s face stiffened. A thick, black aura began to
float out of him, perhaps generated by his anger. You can’t
be a demon lord unless you know how to intimidate your
foe, I guess. Not that it was that impressive—but between
his rage and panic, that should open up some weak points
to exploit. Shion would be fighting him in my place, and I
was sure she’d be able to take advantage of that.
I motioned with my eyes to Shion. She immediately
sprang into action. In a moment, she was upon Clayman,
launching an attack. Concentrating her aura around her
fist, she used that single instant to land a good thirty or so
blows on him. Then she turned back at me with a look of
relief and asked, “Is this all right?”
…Um, aren’t you supposed to ask before you start
clobbering? All I did was give you a sidelong glance. That
was supposed to be a “You get it, right? Clayman’s all
pissed off, so get ’im while he’s off guard” kind of glance. I
wasn’t expecting you to beat the crap out of him before I
blinked again. Does the expression off guard mean
anything to you?
Well…so be it. What’s done is done. The force of the
strikes propelled Clayman right in front of me, in the middle
of the circle. “You, you, you bastard!” he shouted as he
stood up. He was tougher than I thought.
That black aura around him thickened, instantly healing
his injuries. It was far faster than what the orc lord could
do, but that was pretty much normal for a demon lord.
Either way, it made Clayman accept Shion as an enemy, so
we were still more or less sticking to the script.
“If that’s what you want,” he said, “then I’ll kill both of
you.” Then the fox that had jumped down to his feet swelled
up in size.

Report. This is believed to be the Nine-Head mentioned

by Mjurran.

Oh yeah, she did say that, huh? So it was another servant

of his, not some pet. Then another figure emerged from
Clayman’s shadow, wrapped in a black robe. He had two
servants, and I had Shion in battle mode. Ranga was
similarly enlarged now, ready to pounce.
Wait. Hang on. We’re outnumbered if Milim is joining
in… Nah. No need to panic yet. That’s what Beretta is for—
Huuhh?!
The moment we all stepped into the circle where the
table used to be, it was shut away from the audience by a
barrier. The area within it exploded in size, the surrounding
chairs seemingly far away and distant. They must have
installed some kind of enclosing barrier to protect the other
demon lords.
I kind of expected this, given that they created that
whole fancy event space and everything…but Beretta, one
of my supports, didn’t make it in.
Oh, crap, I didn’t see that pitfall coming— But just as I
thought it, Clayman started screaming.
“Milim, kill him!!”
And she was ready to do just that.
There was no doubting the fist coming my way. The force
behind it was deadly. But after expanding my senses a
million times over with Mind Accelerate, there was a chance
I could avoid it. It wasn’t impossible, but I didn’t have much
leeway to mess up.
A white-hot ball of energy scraped past my cheek. The
speed amazed me. Even with Raphael running at full speed,
I still couldn’t fully avoid it. If I even thought about a
counter, it’d leave me open enough for a lethal strike.
 The only thing I could do, then, was try my hardest to
keep up with Milim while I concentrated on breaking her
mind control. Even so, my Detect Magic was telling me
about events in the circle. It was almost scary, the way I
could juggle all of that. Too bad I couldn’t bask in it right
now.
Shion was fighting Clayman, but it was two on one with
that black-robed figure in the mix, so I couldn’t say she had
the advantage. Ranga, meanwhile, was pitted against Nine-
Head, and I thought he was winning, but then those three
tails on the fox spirit transformed into two magical beasts.
All of a sudden, it was three on one.
I, meanwhile, had Milim to deal with. There really was
nothing I could do. Nothing, besides pray that everyone
stayed alive until I could finish running Analyze and Assess
on her.
So, uh, you guys take care of yourselves! Got it?

Beretta quickly set to action, asking Ramiris if it could join

the battle. Ramiris, for her part, wasn’t about to turn her
toy down.
“Whoa, Guy! I’m with Rimuru, all right? So I want my
Beretta to be part of that, too.”
“No,” he coldly replied, paying her as little attention as
possible.
“Why not?!”
“Mm? Mere attendants aren’t allowed to join a battle
between demon lords. This is a dispute between that slime
and Clayman, is it not? You have no reason to join in.”
“What’re you talking about?! Milim’s in there, ain’t she?”
“Oh, she’s fine.”
“So what’s with that? Why’s she fine, and I’m not?!”
Guy rolled his eyes, tiring of this. Ramiris was always
something of a loudmouth. Once she got started, it was
hard to make her stop.
She had never brought attendants to a Council before, so
Guy realized she must’ve had some reason to do it this time.
Considering Milim’s involvement, letting Ramiris join in
would just add to the chaos. He had isolated the battle zone
in part to prevent this.
“Because Milim likely has her own motivations for this.
Now will you shut up?”
“Oh, so you think there’s not a thought in my mind about
it at all?”
“Is there? Besides…” Guy gave Beretta a look. “Who has
your attendant sworn its loyalties to? Your other companion
seems ready to devote her all to protecting you, but I’m not
so sure about this Beretta. It’s faithful to you, but not
completely so. You want me to trust someone so
suspicious?”
He had spotted the truth. Beretta’s loyalties weren’t only
to Ramiris. And as one of Ramiris’s closest friends, he
wasn’t willing to allow an attendant who was weighing its
master on the scales against someone else.
“My master is on the balance, yes,” Beretta freely
admitted.
There was Rimuru, its master. Rimuru, its creator, but
also Ramiris, its current leader. She was a ridiculously
optimistic, rash, curious, even cowardly demon lord, but
Beretta had grown to love her. It didn’t even mind all that
abusive manipulation. Rimuru had wished for Ramiris to be
protected and for Beretta to serve her as well. There was
no contradiction at all in its mind.
There was just one thing: Beretta wanted to repay the
favor to Rimuru. It was once a demon, and Rimuru had
granted it both a new life and a new mission. It felt a need
to make up for that.
“And if Lady Ramiris wishes to save that figure as much
as I do…” It spoke to Guy without any fear.
 “Hoh? Audacious enough to address me, are you?
Interesting. May I trust this golem at its word, Ramiris?”
The fairy gave him a look that indicated no answer was
needed, but she gave one anyway. “Oooh yeah, yeah, of
course! So you go help out Rimuru in my place, all right,
Beretta?!”
“Hmm. So it will take action if you wish it to, then? You’ve
obtained quite a good attendant for yourself, Ramiris.”
“Nah, nah, not obtained. We’re friends! Me, and Beretta,
and Treyni, and Rimuru, too!” She smiled contentedly.
“Like, everyone, a whole, whole lot!”
Guy wasn’t quite sure what Ramiris was trying to say, but
if she was fine with that, so was he.
“Well, all right…” He reluctantly extended a hand to open
a hole in the barrier.
“…I thank you, Rouge,” Beretta said.
“Sure. Don’t call me that. I’ll allow you to call me Guy.
But I refuse to allow you to recognize another master apart
from Ramiris from now on. Is that all right?”
Granting this honor meant Guy saw Beretta as strong
enough to live up to his own standards. Now, he was asking
it to pick a master. If it attempted to weasel out of the
question, he intended to smash it up on the spot. But it
immediately agreed.
“In that case, Guy, I will swear my loyalty to Lady Ramiris
exclusively from now on. So please allow me to be of service
to Sir Rimuru at least once.”
Guy was a tad surprised. Demons, as a rule, wanted to be
recognized by their masters for their strength. Beretta,
meanwhile, didn’t seem to see strength as too important. Its
standards had gone all haywire. It was a nonconformist.
“You are fine with that?”
“Yes. Sir Rimuru has servants stronger than myself.”
That made sense to Guy. But it also confused him,
someone this powerful admitting to not being the strongest
out there.
 “I also enjoy conducting research,” Beretta continued.
“The research I do with Lady Ramiris on a daily basis is
truly like a dream… Oh, pardon me. My serving Lady
Ramiris is part of Sir Rimuru’s request. There is no need to
worry about that.”
The words reminded Guy of a demon he knew, the very
definition of strange, one who pursued only what personally
interested him. If they were part of the same lineage,
perhaps demons with dispositions like Beretta’s shouldn’t
be so unexpected—but the demon in Guy’s mind rarely
birthed other family members. Only an elite few were
aware of him at all.
“Let me ask—what is your lineage like?”
Beretta winced underneath its mask and laughed.
“…I was one of the least of the greater demons. However,
I think you will find very few demons in the same family tree
as I.”
A small lineage. That has to be it, then. Beretta’s hair was
gray, the color gone from it, but once upon a time…
“I see. No wonder you didn’t fear me. That family always
was self-centered, curious. So someone like you admits
there are stronger creatures than yourself?”
Guy shot a passing glance at Shion and Ranga fighting
away, then turned back toward Beretta. Yes, Shion and
Ranga were powerful—but he didn’t think Beretta was at all
behind them.
“I thank you for the honor, but I still have far to go. As
long as the two of them serve Sir Rimuru, if I miss this
opportunity, I may never have another one.”
“Yes, true. I understand how you feel. You may go.”
The barrier already had a hole large enough to wriggle
through.
“Excuse me, then.”
With an elegant salute, Beretta plunged in. Guy cracked
a smile as he watched it go. He had an idea who this would
be.
 …So that’s it. You’re on the move as well, Noir?!
This was an old friend, one who went away from him ages
ago. If this was the type of people he was serving now, the
slime fighting Milim in front of him must be quite the
fascinating figure. A nonconformist serving a
nonconformist.
He basked in joy as he watched the battle, even as he
thought he could see its conclusion already.
Rimuru was his name? I will have to remember it.

Oh, crap. I’m screwed.

Who’s screwing me? Milim, of course.
Dealing with Milim as a foe made Clayman’s anger seem
like a toddler’s tantrum. She hadn’t taken the battle form
Phobio saw yet, so she still wasn’t going all out…but her
strength went beyond all common sense. I was already
exercising everything I had. Raphael, at least, was really
humming along for me—seriously, if I didn’t have that skill, I
would’ve been dead already.
So I was fully booked with Milim, but my fighting
companions were working hard as well. I had thought being
outnumbered might sink us, but now I wasn’t so sure.

Ranga had summoned two star leaders, fellow

commander-level starwolves, boosting his team so it was
three on three. I guess it was possible for him to summon
up to three at once, but Gobta was using the third one right
now, so that was all we had on hand. Still, I think it was
enough.
Nine-Head boasted a massive amount of magical energy,
but it didn’t seem too experienced in battle. Ranga held the
upper hand from start to finish. The two magical beasts
Nine-Head summoned, however, were trickier than I
thought. Analyze and Assess told me they were a White
Monkey and a Moon Rabbit, respectively. They were both
intelligent and capable of attacking in tandem, which made
them fiendish in battle. The Moon Rabbit could control
gravity, weighing down everyone in the battle zone. It
allowed the White Monkey to pummel their foes and Nine-
Head to finish them off.
That was their standard path to victory, but Ranga saw
right through it, breaking down their teamwork. If he used
one of his stronger finishers, he could’ve wiped them out
instantly, but he was hesitating since Shion might be caught
in the cross fire. He had the upper hand, but landing a
decisive blow was proving elusive.

Shion, meanwhile… Well, she was hanging in there, out

of pure fighting spirit more than anything. The black robe
was hiding an elaborately built magical puppet, and I’m not
kidding when I say it looked stronger than Clayman.
“Ha-ha-ha-ha! How do you like Viola, my greatest work of
art? Beautiful, is she not?”
Clayman was boundlessly confident, and I could see why.
A real tour de force, although beautiful wouldn’t be my
choice of words if asked. Not with, you know, all those
swords and spears flying out of her. Each one of those
projectiles was a Unique-grade weapon, as was her armor,
but this kind of kitchen-sink approach wasn’t what I would
call beauty, really. Whether it was heat, electricity,
blizzards, crushing, resonation, or anything else, she had a
seemingly limitless supply of every attack type in the world,
and she was lobbing it all at her foe.
It was nothing to Shion, however. That was thanks to
Ultraspeed Regeneration, which sucks if you’re fighting
someone who has it. No matter how much damage she took,
Shion could instantly heal back up. Clayman and Viola
working together prevented her from going on the attack,
but that was just helping fill up Shion’s anger gauge. Once
that blew up, things were gonna get scary.
As I thought about that, Shion had someone join her.
“I apologize for making you wait. Sir Rimuru, please
utilize my power.”
Whoa, it’s Beretta! I don’t know how, but it must’ve
broken into this battle zone.
“I’ve been waiting for you, Beretta!”
“Yes sir!”
“This needless meddling… I was just about to turn these
fools into a pair of bloody husks!”
Shion was acting like a sore loser, but I’ll just ignore that.
“Well, don’t let up. Smash them!”
“““Yes sir!!”””
We were now fully back to the original script.

No losing now. The path we took here got a little hairy

midway, but with things as they were, our victory was
unshakable.
The only problem was Milim. She still wasn’t going all
out. If I could free her, we’d win for sure. My qualms about
the future settled, I focused my full consciousness on her.
The noise surrounding me disappeared. I sharpened my
mind, looking at nothing but Milim. Now, much more clearly
than before, I could see the path her fist traced in the air.
I focused, using every cell in my body for my calculations.
If I lose this, it’d all be meaningless. I had to do whatever it
took to release the curse Clayman placed on her. Come on,
Raphael. Analyze and Assess every inch of her for me!
What was that? I’m berating my foes for relying on other
people, but using Raphael to solve all my own problems? I
don’t know where you’re getting the wrong idea. Raphael is
my power.
There isn’t a single iota of guilt in my mind!
So, uh, yeah, go ahead.

Understood. Conducting Analyze and Assess… No results.

Huh? Huhhhh?!
Um, what do you mean by that? You can’t seriously mean
that you can’t figure out the silly curses Clayman placed on
her?

No curse-oriented magic found. This is—

Dude, how useless can you get?!

Whenever this happened before, I figured it was because
I wasn’t concentrating hard enough, but after all that effort,
nothing. It couldn’t even discover any curse at all. Guess I
can’t trust Raphael in a pinch.
This was bad. Really, really bad. Not to sound all
depressed, but the chances of me winning in a knock-down,
drag-out brawl with Milim were laughably poor. Well, so be
it—I’ll just have to hold out until Shion and the rest defeat
Clayman.
My mind made up, I confronted Milim. I had gotten
stronger. She might be both under someone’s control and
not really trying yet, but I was certainly holding my own
against Milim. In the past, I’d be eating dirt before a minute
elapsed. Right now, we were at minute thirteen or so, and I
was still fighting at a full clip.
Hey, maybe she’d snap out of it if I just gave her a good
sock on the noggin?
The thought crossed my mind for just a moment, but I
dunno… Striking Milim kind of goes against my personal
rules…
 Suggestion. An energy absorption attack using Belzebuth.

Oh? Ohhhh! That could work!!

I immediately tried it out. Any direct strike on my body
would cause damage, so I was mainly parrying her moves. I
would be applying just a little bit of force from the side,
enough to adjust the paths of her punches and kicks. As I
did, I’d use Belzebuth to vacuum up her magicules.
This turned out to be pretty effective. Milim reared away
from me, a scowl on her face. It was a teeny-tiny amount of
damage, but it worked. All of Milim’s attacks were
protected by her own draconic aura; if I could take that out
of the picture just by touching it, I’d gradually be able to
sap her stamina.
 Would I win with this, though? That was another story. If
I was focused on “winning,” I’d need to bust out my full
strength, leaving nothing behind, and even then there was
no guarantee. Even if I pulled it off, I’d wind up revealing all
my hidden abilities to the demon lords watching us. In the
big picture, that’d be a defeat.
Right now, all I could do was chip away at her like this as
I waited for her curse to be undone. Let’s hope that Shion
can finish off Clayman sooner rather than later.

I couldn’t say how many back-and-forth exchanges we

went through.
I say exchanges, but it was entirely me defending. The
rules were intense—one mistake, and you’re out—but I was
still fending her off.
A roaring fist from Milim surged past my right cheek. If I
didn’t focus, I’d never be able to dodge it. A single hit would
shatter my body, no doubt. I had Infinite Regeneration, a
healing skill more powerful than even its Ultraspeed cousin,
but abusing it would drain my magicules too quickly. I could
probably regenerate myself after being reduced to goo, but
keep that up long enough, and I’d run out of stamina first.
So focus. Focus. Read ahead of Milim’s moves.
Her right fist had changed in shape. A dragon-fang lash
disguised as a punch. It’d glance past my cheek once again,
then decapitate me with the nails on her fingers, like the
teeth of a dragon. The correct way to deal with it was not to
dodge but to take it from the side.
So I took it, pushing myself with my left hand from the
inside out. I could feel a burning pain sear through that
hand, an explosion of energy that left it heavily damaged.
And that was me avoiding the attack. Trying to take a full-
frontal blow from her would’ve been crazy. Absolute power,
on this level, was a kind of finisher in itself, crushing its
opponent. I had just learned that the hard way, but if I
didn’t sacrifice my left hand, I would’ve been mortally
wounded. I was fine with that, but I was really starting to
resent the sheer unfairness of this.
Then, as if reading my mind, I had an unexpected
chance. Right there, as Milim lost her balance, she forced
her remaining left hand to snap off a punch.
Here we go!

Report. It is believed to be a trap—

Huh?! I thought, but it was too late.

Leaving Raphael’s composed guidance in the dust, I
began my attack, grabbing Milim’s left hand and attempting
to throw her. If she was off-balance, I thought I should be
able to pick her up on my back and slam her down.
But if that was Milim’s trap…?
Her hand stopped dead in the air, a carefree grin on her
face—a total “gotcha now!” smile.
Oh, craaaaaaaaap?!
I was attempting to twist my body in front of Milim, both
hands reaching out for her left arm. I could see all of that
with Detect Magic as if watching it on TV, but it left me
totally open. Cornered. Game over.
Her fist moved again—and just before she smashed it
right against my head, something cut in between us. A dull
thud rang out.
“Gnhh?! Where did that come from? That was just
mean.”
I was greeted by a dark-skinned man with blond hair.
Looked a little bit like me, actually… Wait, Veldora?!
He was curled up on the floor, grabbing at his head and
looking like he was in at least some pain. But if taking a
punch from Milim only did that to him, I didn’t see much
need to worry. I took the moment’s delay to rebalance and
steel myself toward Milim.
 “Hey, Veldora, why are you in here?!”
“Grrnnn, what a cruel blow…”
“You’ll be fine, all right? What’s happening in town?”
“Nothing. That man, Diablo or whatever it was, came
back, so our defense is as strong as ever.”
Huhhh? Diablo was back? There’s no way they could’ve
captured Farmus that quickly…but let’s focus on Veldora
for now.
“So what are you here for? If it’s to whine at me, then go
away.”
“Why are you being cruel, too, Rimuru…? Ugh. Look, it’s
about this!”
He thrust his hands out at me, as if a ta-daa! sound effect
should have been playing behind him. He was holding one
of the volumes of manga I gave him—the final volume of a
long-running series.
“What about this?” I asked, confused.
He looked at me, positively indignant. “What do you
mean, what about this? The story in here’s completely
different from the rest of the series! Were you playing some
kind of trick, taking the ending away from me?”
Ahhhhh! Yes! Now I remember. Yes, it was a trick. I kind
of pulled a prank on him, the idea being that I’d give him
the rest of the manga if he followed my orders. Kind of like
training a pet, really. I had no idea that was the series I left
for him.
So he traveled all the way here just because he wanted
to read the ending? In this enclosed space in an alternate
dimension? I knew I could summon Unlimited
Imprisonment with my ultimate skill Veldora, Lord of the
Storm, but I guess he could, too. That’ll learn me, I guess.
But that didn’t matter. Diablo was already back in town.
Might as well make lemonade out of this.
“All right. Before I give you the real ending, I need you to
do me a favor.”
“Mm? What?”
 “Play with Milim over there for a while. But don’t hurt
her.”
“Milim? Ahhh, yes, my brother’s only daughter. I haven’t
met her before, but she’s still just a child, isn’t she? Very
well. I am on my way!”
I didn’t know whether it was the manga or Milim that
captured his interest the most, but either way, he agreed.
The “my brother’s only daughter” bit captured my interest,
but again, everything in due time.
Milim herself was looking our way, steeled for anything,
and Veldora seemed to be capturing her interest. I could
see it in the twinkle in her eyes. Hopefully that meant I was
safe leaving for now. Which one was stronger anyway? I was
kind of interested to see, but if Veldora was stronger than
me, I was sure he could buy me enough time.
There’s just no way I can’t take advantage of this chance
—so with my newfound freedom, I wanted to defeat
Clayman and settle the score for good.

So how had things gone while I was occupied with Milim?

Leaving her and Veldora behind, I turned toward Ranga
first, since things seemed the most intense with him.
“Ranga, you all right?”
“Ah, Sir Rimuru! I am fine, but I have a little situation
here.”
Something was up? There didn’t seem to be much life to
his attacks, and I didn’t think it was because he was losing
interest.
Just as I was about to ask what was up, I picked up on the
cause.
(—lp me. Help me. Help me!!)
This childlike wailing was leaking out to us, via Thought
Communication, from Nine-Head. The White Monkey and
Moon Rabbit were merely trying to protect their shivering
master, hence why they kept resisting without admitting
defeat. Now I see. Let’s help him out.
“Ranga, hold back the Monkey and the Rabbit. Don’t let
them get in my way.”
“Right.”
He took the Monkey, while his two star leaders handled
the Rabbit, and I walked toward the snarling Nine-Head—
this poor young child, controlled by Clayman.

Report. Analysis indicates a Demon Dominate curse.

Remove?
Yes
No

This time, at least, the curse was discovered and

removed quickly. Wish I could’ve seen some of that talent
when I was dealing with Milim. Ah well.
The moment I undid the magic, Nine-Head gave a joyous
yelp, then settled down to sleep, no doubt exhausted. It was
as cute as any baby-animal video I had ever seen; apart
from the three tails and the golden color to its fur, it looked
exactly like a little fox cub. Ranga was right next to me,
growling as menacingly as he could, and—all right, that was
pretty cute, too. In a cool way.
“Keep this cub safe.”
“Yes, my master.”
I gave the cub over to Ranga as I petted him. That took
care of his foe.

Next, I turned to Beretta, and that confrontation was

already over. It was lining up all the Unique weapons and
armor on the floor, practically beside itself with excitement.
“Hey! Heyyyy! What’re you doing?!”
“Oh yes, hello, Sir Rimuru!” It gave me a joyful salute. “It
is a pity I could not show myself in action to you, but I have
prepared some spoils of war for you.”
Spoils…?
Viola, Clayman’s greatest work of art, had been taken
apart, its pieces strewn all over the place, and now this was
Beretta’s gift to me. I knew it was pretty strong, but it took
down that arsenal-like magic-born without suffering a
scratch…?
And that wasn’t even all.
“Uh, Beretta, no offense, but are you imitating all of
Ramiris’s bad habits or what?”
“Huh…?!”
It looked at me—surprised, I think. Its face was hidden
behind that mask, so that was only my impression. I thought
a word of advice was in order. If this keeps up, Beretta’s
going to pick up on nothing but her negative traits.
“I mean, hopefully this is just my imagination, but what
are you going to do with all that booty?”
“Well, this… I thought I would present it to you, Sir
Rimuru…and I thought you would accept it and, in
exchange, provide a place for Lady Ramiris and me to live.”
Um? A place to live…? I knew Ramiris had an urge to live
in our town, but why Beretta?
“What…made you worry about that?”
“Actually…”
Beretta’s explanation floored me—and not in a good way.
It sounded like Guy cornered it into choosing a master
before allowing him to enter the battle zone. Beretta
responded that it would serve Ramiris after helping me out
in here—but clever demon that it is, it thought about a way
to wiggle out of that. If Ramiris were to move to our town,
Beretta would be obliged to follow her—and then it could
go through Ramiris to serve me as well; that was its plan.
It was one of the flimsiest excuses I ever heard, and it
was laying this out like supreme gospel. The word demon
couldn’t have described him more accurately.
 “Uh… Look, I’m serious, you’re really starting to
resemble Ramiris.”
“It is an honor to hear, although it feels rather little like a
compliment.”
That’s ’cause it’s not! I swear, I take my eyes off you for
a second, and you’ve grown incredibly shameless. Kind of
neat to see this maturation take place, though.
“Well, we can save that for later. I’ll have to think about
it. I can’t set up something for you guys that easily.”
“Understood, sir.”
It seemed happy enough with that. I figured we were
good for now.

That left only Shion to check up on, and that

confrontation was right on the cusp of its climax.

Clayman was panting for breath as he glared at her, a

loathsome look on his face. Shion had all but made him
admit to her strength.
It might’ve appeared like they were locked in an intense
competition for superiority, but that would be a dreadful
mistake. That was because Shion had Ultraspeed
Regeneration, that undefeatable X factor, on her side. They
were equals in strength, but Shion could keep up the fight
for far longer. While they seemed an even match in each
exchange of blows, Clayman’s fatigue had begun to stand
out while I was fighting Milim.
Shion probably didn’t need my aid to win this. And now
that her advantage was clear to all, Clayman was starting to
panic.
“Is that all you’ve got? You are far too weak to call
yourself a demon lord!”
 Wow, Shion. No mercy, huh? She was totally dissing
Clayman.
“You—you—you’ll pay for that! Come to me, Marionette
Dance!!”
The demon lord unleashed five puppets, each
transforming into a magic-born that lunged at Shion. Each
one was high in level, formed from a soul Clayman had put
in a doll for deployment at any time. It was part of his
hidden arsenal, I suppose—now was no time for him to hold
back, no doubt, so he was busting out everything he had.
This was more than enough firepower to take out your
average magic-born. But with that massive sword she loved
so much, she mowed down all five with a single swipe.
“Pathetic,” she said, not a hint of fatigue on her face.
“You never were anything special, were you?” She had been
fighting and fighting, and there wasn’t a scratch on her. She
was starting to look and act more like a demon lord now.
Clayman, meanwhile, was visibly quivering. “Don’t—don’t
give me that, you!” he shouted out of humiliation. “It’s too
early to boast of your victory yet! My Marionette Dance will
recover itself in moments, striking at you again. The real
show begins now!”
He probably wasn’t making that up out of spite. They
really could do that. Shion waited for them, a thoughtful
look on her face—but the dolls showed no sign of getting
back up. There was a good reason for that.
Panic crossed Clayman’s face again. “N-no,” he
whispered. “Why aren’t they reviving?”
I could understand the shock of having your beloved
tools of battle fail you like this. I decided to provide a little
color commentary.
“Hmm, how about I just reveal it to you? Shion’s
greatsword is a type called a Soul Eater. Those puppets
didn’t have any physical and spiritual defensive spells
applied to them, right? You cheaped out on creating them,
so she broke them in one hit.”
 That much wasn’t worth keeping under wraps to me.
Clayman was going to be my prey anyway; if he wanted to
know, then let him know.
“A, a sword with spirit-based attacks?!”
“It’s not that rare. There’s a human with one out there,
y’know.”
“N-no! That’s one of the least common traits, even with
Uniques!”
“Ohhh? Well, what’s it matter? One of my friends forged
it for us.”
Shion’s sword was a modified blade created using
Hinata’s as a reference. It had the power to attack the
spiritual body itself—not literally eat souls or anything but
deal damage to spirit-based life-forms. There were no
restrictions like that “seven hits” thing with Hinata;
depending on the force applied, it could kill instantly unless
successfully resisted. It wasn’t guaranteed to kill all the
time, but Shion wasn’t exactly a delicate fighter, so it didn’t
matter. Since it dealt both spiritual and physical damage,
she didn’t need seven hits to finish foes anyway.
“Oh, I see. So this is Goriki-maru Version 2!”
She didn’t know…? I, um, I’m pretty sure we went over
all this when I gave it to her? Ah, whatever. Shion was
never one to sweat the small stuff, so setting her up with
this was the right idea.
“Heh…heh-heh-heh. I see. It was the power of that sword
that allowed you to fight against me. Then allow me to add
that dirty little blade to my collection! Take this—Demon
Marionette!!”
Sounds like Clayman had misread her.
The ominous strings of black light that streamed from
both his hands wrapped themselves completely around
Shion’s body. She didn’t move. Kinda wish she tried to
dodge it or, you know, something, but I guess she didn’t
need to.
Clayman, assuming Shion didn’t react in time, found this
much to his liking. “Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh… Behold, the
ultimate cursing magic, with the power to rule over demon
lords themselves! It seems a waste to squander it on magic-
born like you, but so be it. I have some slots to fill in my five
fingers, and you would be wonderful to take under my
wing.”
He totally had the wrong idea—if that’s what he was
saying, poor guy. It wasn’t that Shion couldn’t move—she
just didn’t move. Despite all of Clayman’s lofty words, he
was probably freaking out over why it wasn’t working at all.
Complete Memory, one of Shion’s skills, was the power to
record memories into her astral body. In layman’s terms, it
let her retain her memories even if her brain was
destroyed. Combine a conscious soul with a set of
memories, and you could regenerate the physical body even
if it was vaporized. This made Shion into a special sort of
race—call her a demi-spiritual life-form if you want—but
essentially, it allowed her to think with her soul, and that
meant any effect that tried to take over her spirit was
neutralized. Against Shion, no mind-takeover curses could
ever work.
“Hey,” an annoyed-sounding Shion called out from within
her cocoon of black string, “what are you trying to do with
this? It’s not hurting me at all, but should I wait a little
longer?”
You know—and this has been something I’ve been
thinking for a while now, but—I really wish she’d stop acting
like this was a pro-wrestling bout. This was supposed to be
a duel to the death. Why was she deliberately letting herself
get hit by her enemy’s moves? Shion, Sufia…and Milim, too.
I just didn’t understand how these war-loving freaks
thought sometimes. Gimme a break.
Raphael confirmed to me that Shion wasn’t being
affected at all, though. There wasn’t any need to even
beware of Clayman’s secret techniques.
“That—that’s ridiculous… My Demon Marionette doesn’t
work? It has to! This cannot even be possible! It’s the
ultimate in demon domination! It can exact its rule over
demon lords!”
It had ruled over Nine-Head a moment ago. Certainly,
you could take over the mind of a calamity-level monster
with it easily enough. But would it work on the disaster-
class demon lords? I think Clayman overestimated his own
strength.
Apparently sick of waiting any longer, Shion used his
aura to rip her cocoon apart. “So ridiculous,” she scornfully
muttered. “Relying on such cheap tricks as this… You don’t
deserve your title at all.”
Clayman just stood there, finally succumbing to the
panic.
…Or not. What Shion said must’ve flipped a switch
somewhere inside of him.
“Heh-heh-heh… Ha-ha-ha-ha-haaaaaaa!! I don’t deserve
my title? You’ll regret saying that, you maggot! Yes, you’ll
regret extracting my full strength from me!”
His shoulders were shaking as he shrieked with laughter.
Off went his fancy-looking suit jacket and shirt, leaving him
topless. It also left assorted other items he had hidden on
his body to clank against the floor, no longer of use to him. I
had thought this was over, but Clayman still had something
left to rely on.
Suddenly, two pairs of arms grew out from his uncovered
back—long, thin, and protected by a black exoskeleton. This
was his true character. Not the dolled-up form from before,
but this form that evoked wild, crazed insanity.
“But yes… Yes, you’re right. A demon lord… I am a
demon lord. I focused on ease and elegance in the way I go
about matters, dispatching my foes with style. But enough
of that. It doesn’t matter. I had forgotten about how this
feels, for so long…and now I’m going to crush you in my
hands!!”
The true nature of his rage came to the surface. All he
had on him was something he kept preciously protected in
his hand. A mask. A jester’s mask, decorated with a smile.
Without a moment’s pause, he put it on.
“Hoh? Looks like you’ve grown worthier,” a happy-
sounding Shion said. “I’m glad to see that. I am Shion,
secretary and personal guard to the demon lord Rimuru,
and I will be happy to fight you!”
“And I am the demon lord…no, the ‘Crazed Clown’
Clayman. You are dead, Shion the magic-born!”
The introductions were made. The two moved at the
same moment.

Clayman, in his “real” form, was a powerhouse, laying out

the full extent of his demon lord–worthy magical force
against Shion. His normal arms wielded those ominous
black beams of light. The upper arms from his back wielded
an ax and a hammer; the lower ones, a sword and shield.
Dealing with both magical and melee attacks at once
baffled Shion for a moment. But she was stronger. Swinging
the sword she called Goriki-maru Version 2, she clanged the
sword out of his hand and crushed his shield. A simple,
tactless roundhouse slash from above smashed through the
ax and hammer Clayman crossed in front of him.
That freakish force came courtesy of Shion’s intrinsic
skill Ogre Berserker, and her frenzy of weapon breaking
was the work of Guarantee Results and Optimal Action,
both part of her Master Chef unique skill. In other words,
Clayman was still no match for her. Even with all his might,
she was just pummeling him.
Now he was crossing his two pairs of steellike arms to
block Shion’s fists—but they, too, were smashed to ribbons.
Her next punch landed squarely in the pit of his stomach.
“Orrgghhh…”
 He fell in agony, foaming at the mouth. There it is. The
end.
Not that it’s for me to say, but Shion really had gotten
overwhelmingly stronger. Dying and getting resurrected
like that gave her power on a scale like nothing she ever
had before.
“Gerrhhaaahh?!!”
She planted a follow-up kick on him, making him roll
around on the ground in agony. The mask was cracked now,
revealing bloodshot eyes.
“N… N-no… This can’t be. How could…could I…I, a
demon lord, Clayman…?!”
Now Clayman understood the difference in power. But he
still refused to accept this reality. It was devastating to him.
“May I put him out of his misery, Sir Rimuru?”
Hmm. There were a few things I could ask him, but I
could predict most of the answers. Beyond that, I wanted to
know about whose bidding he was doing, but was he gonna
be honest with that?
“D-dammit all!! Milim! What is Milim doing?! Destroy
that magic-born at once—”
Clayman was screaming out the words now, realizing
that his death was near. But Veldora was holding Milim
back. Clayman looked at him with disbelief.
“Wh-who…? What—what is this? His power is off the
charts…!”
He must’ve just realized that Veldora wasn’t just another
magic-born.
“Well, he’s in human form right now, but that’s Veldora. I
told you, remember? He’s my friend.”
This silenced Clayman. I’m sure he wanted to deny it, but
seeing him spar evenly with Milim forced him to admit it.
The two had been fighting for a while now, and it was
turning into quite the fireworks show. Skill names flew back
and forth, many of which I think I remembered hearing
before, and Milim had an honest look of surprise on her
face.
Hey, is she really being controlled? Because I’m starting
to wonder.

……

Raphael’s reaction made me ponder the idea for a bit,

but it was no big deal at the moment. Besides, this would be
the first time she’d met Veldora as a person, and it seemed
like she was having a blast.
Thus, Clayman gave up on having Milim to rely on. Even
in his panicked confusion, he managed to flee to the edge of
our isolated battle zone, shouting at the audience outside.
“F-Frey! Frey, what are you doing?! You and I share a
common fate! Get in here and lend a hand!”
The pleading fell on cold, dead ears.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Clayman. Nobody can go through this
barrier unless Guy lets them. Such a pity.”
He resentfully groaned at this heartless reply, then
turned back toward Milim, his eyes twitching and revealing
the insanity inside. He must’ve gotten another wild idea in
his mind. A crazed laugh crossed his lips as he looked at her
once more.
“Kah! Kah-ha-ha-ha-ha! Milim! Milim! Follow my orders
and execute a Stampede! Kill everybody you see in here!!”
Well, that sounds awful. Clayman just wanted to survive
now, and he didn’t care how bad he looked along the way.
This is bad, I have to admit. Now isn’t the time to sit
around and watch things unfold. Back into the battle I go.
But just as I started to run, I heard the most unbelievable
thing.
“Why do I need to do that? Rimuru and his people are my
friends!”
Surprised, I turned around—only to find Milim chilling
out there, a wide grin on her face.
 “Milim?! Whoa, you—weren’t you being controlled…?”
“Waaah-ha-ha-ha! Thanks a lot for getting tricked by
that, Rimuru! You know someone like Clayman would never
take over my mind!”
Wh-what?!

……

I can’t articulate why, but I had the strangest feeling

Raphael had been angry at me for a while. But back to
Milim.
“So Clayman didn’t seize your mind?”
Um, what’s going on here? I felt obliged to check one
more time—but Milim just gave me a proud smile. I could
hear at least one demon lord in the audience say, “Huh? But
she didn’t react at all when he punched her!”
The most surprised of all, of course, was Clayman.
“Y-yes. Yes! I used the Orb of Domination he gave me to
put you completely at my beck and call… You killed Carillon
under my orders, did you not?!”
Ohhh, Clayman. So shocked by these events that he has
no idea what he just said. That oughtta make my video
evidence more believable. After all, he just revealed that not
only was he the culprit, but there was someone else pulling
his strings, too.
“Yes! That! That’s what I wanted to hear,” exclaimed
Milim. “Answer me, Clayman. Who’s this he you’re talking
about?”
She asked the question casually enough, but she backed
it up with sharp, seeking eyes. She had totally ignored
Clayman’s question, which was so like her.
Right. So Milim wasn’t being controlled, and she had her
doubts about Clayman from the beginning? For what?
Before I could get an answer, another voice butted in.
“Whoa, whoa, who’s been killed here?”
 It came from the other end of the battle zone, this low,
heavy voice—belonging to the man with the eagle wings
that Frey brought along with her.
Wait, no way… Like, with that obvious a costume…?! And
if I didn’t pick up on that, does that make me…?

……

Whoa, why does it feel like Raphael’s exasperated with

me? And wasn’t it about to say something to me back then?
Or maybe not? Ah, maybe I was just hearing things. Let’s
forget about it and, um, pay more attention in the future.

The man, Carillon, ripped the mask off his face, his awe-
inspiring aura shooting out with it. With a moment’s
concentration, he was instantly back to his original
appearance. Yep. That’s the Beast Master, all right. No
doubt about it.
“Wow, you were all right, Carillon?”
“Yo, Rimuru. ‘All right’ ain’t how I would describe it, but
that’s fine. Thank you for taking care of my forces.”
“Oh, not a problem.”
After thanking me, Carillon gave Clayman a knowing
grin. Now it was obvious that Milim was under no one’s
control.
“Wha—? How…? So it’s true…? But Frey told me… No,
Frey, too? You betrayed me as well, didn’t you?!”
Finally getting the whole picture, Clayman gave Frey a
half-crazed glare. She responded by pretending he wasn’t
there.
By the looks of things, I wouldn’t call this a betrayal, per
se…
“Hmm?” Frey nonchalantly replied. “Since when were
you laboring under the assumption that I was your ally?”
Yikes. I knew it. Women can be so scary sometimes.
Frey was tricking Clayman from the get-go.
 “You, you have to be kidding me! All, all of you… You’ll
pay; I’ll make you all pay for this!”
The scream of the pitiful clown echoed across the field,
and…
“Shion, do it.”
“You got it!”
Like a hungry dog released from the command to stay,
Shion bounded off, using both hands to swing down her
blade as quickly as she possibly could. It was a single blow
from her sword, a judging strike. Clayman did his best to
block it, but his three pairs of arms were all sliced off, his
body slashed diagonally down from head to toe. It was
unsurvivable—and that one stroke from Shion’s spirit-
crushing blade made Clayman fall wordlessly to the ground.

It was over for Clayman. Carillon was alive, and we had all
the testimony in order. I’m pretty sure I could avoid being
branded the enemy of the demon lords now.
Clayman was barely clinging to life. He was no longer a
threat; there was no way left for him to turn the tables.
Things were already set in stone, and there would be no
more excuses. So, before the demon lords, he had revealed
everything. And each of them might take the news
differently, but regardless, their trust in him had vanished,
none willing to cover for him.

The barrier covering us was removed, and Frey quickly

ran up and approached Milim.
“I believed you were still of sound mind, but I truly had
my doubts at times, Milim! And you kept our promise
anyway. I appreciate that.”
“Wah-ha-ha-ha-sha! Of course I did. We’re friends. But
you’ve been taking care of that for me, right? Didja bring it
over?”
“Yes, yes, you mean this, right? I have to say, though,
withstanding the Orb of Domination was simply amazing…”
As they spoke, Frey took something out of her pocket and
handed it to Milim. It was the Dragon Knuckle I gave her as
a present. Milim accepted it like a kid on her birthday and
immediately put it on, beaming ear to ear.
The rest of the demon lords, seeing this, finally put two
and two together, and I could hear whispers all around the
room.
“Such a cheap performance.”
“I—I saw through it the whole time!”
“Yes, I assumed as much.”
“Yeah, I figured…”
I don’t think I was the only one Milim tricked, but
everyone else found the results just as plausible as I did.
Then I heard a groan from below, like the sound of blood
being coughed up.
“…When? Since when were you deceiving me…?”
It was Clayman. He was still breathing, still incapable of
grasping the unbelievable reality before him. And it was
Milim who revealed the cruel truth.
“Y’know, I had a real hard time doing it! With that
promise I made with Frey, I had to pretend you tricked me.
Then I put on that pendant and made you think it was
working on me.”
“You… You couldn’t… I put my full power into it, with the
Orb of Domination… The perfect…ultimate Demon
Dominate…?! And you…you…”
“Uh-huh! Most magic like that bounces off me pretty
easily, so… First I had to remove all my barriers, then hold
back my force so I didn’t passively resist it. I had to
convince you that the curse was working before your own
eyes, or else you’d be far too wary to believe me. So I had to
work really hard!”
 “Wh…? What…? You… You accepted it on purpose?! My
most valuable Artifact… My hidden gem, the ability to
control demon lords…”
“Oh, was that what it was? Well, too bad you could never
control me!”
She stuck her chest out, looking relentlessly proud of
herself.
“Yeah, really,” I commented. “I feel stupid for worrying
about you. And between that two-fisted sports pose and the
smile you had on your face, your acting abilities really
suck.”
“What do you want from me? I was just glad to see you
were all angry for me, Rimuru.”
Frey just shrugged at this. “Still,” she said, “when
Clayman punched you, I thought I was going to lose my
composure. If you decided to fight back against him, you
would’ve destroyed my home. Great job putting up with
him. That, at least, I have to compliment you for.”
An interesting revelation. So that wasn’t the first time
Clayman physically abused her? What a nutcase. Was he
actively trying to get himself killed?
“Mm-hmm! I’m all grown up now, too, y’know. So I can
deal with stuff like that!”
That obsession with being grown up indicated all too well
how childish she still was.
“Oh, how?” Frey protested. “…Well, that’s fine, but you
couldn’t have dealt with all that just because of our
promise, could you? What did you really want?”
“Hmm? Well, you know, I remember Clayman talking to
me about some weird stuff before. Like, about making
Rimuru into an enemy of mankind and triggering a war
between humans and monsters. If he did that, that wouldn’t
be too fun for me, so I thought I’d meddle a bit!”
“Heavens. Imagine, you lifting a finger for somebody
else.”
“Wah-ha-ha-ha-ha! I told you—I’m all grown up now!”
 “Yes, yes, let’s just call it that.”
Well, huh… I suppose Milim was sharp enough to realize
Clayman was doing someone else’s bidding. So she
pretended to be brainwashed in order to find out who it
was? She had some kind of promise or deal with Frey, too.
Let’s just ignore the fact that she totally tricked me.
The thing to focus on was: That orb didn’t hypnotize her
at all. She didn’t struggle out of it midway; it never worked
once. It was all an award-winning performance. As she later
explained to me, she had been consuming bell peppers to
maintain her poker face. The blank expression that resulted
from eating this detested food of hers made everyone think
her mind had been erased. It wasn’t enough to trick
Veldora, but he played along, enjoying the combat session
as a way to get limber in his new body. Maybe he was a lot
more adaptable to things than I thought.
Like, seriously, Raphael, you never saw it?

……

Oh, um, okay. Guess you did try to tell me something.

I suppose it telling me “No results” should’ve been pretty
bleedingly obvious, looking back. Of course it couldn’t find
any curse effects on her. I was just jumping to conclusions. I
should really adopt the habit of listening more carefully to
people—that and hearing them out until the end.
I wasn’t about to tell anyone about it, but, yes, I had my
personal regrets.

“By the way,” Carillon asked as he strode up to Milim, “if

I could ask you something?”
She smiled back with the Dragon Knuckle eased into her
fingers. “Mm? Sure! Anything!”
“I just wanted to be sure… You weren’t under anyone’s
control? So that was all you when you were whipping the
life out of me?”
Carillon was smiling, too, but I could see the veins on his
forehead bulging. Yeah, I’d be wondering about that, too.
“Huh?! That, um…”
“It’s fine, it’s fine. It just means I’m weaker than you.
But,” he added, no longer hiding his anger, “you willfully
blew up my entire nation, didn’t you?”
Milim was caught off guard for a moment—before
immediately raging back at him.
“Oh, come on, Carillon! That’s the kind of small stuff
you’re preoccupied with? What’s it matter?!”
Yep, that’s the real Milim, all right.
“It’s not small stuff! You know I could have died back
there?!”
“Oh, don’t give me that. Just shut up! I was so passionate
about my performance— Um, I mean, passionate about
deceiving Clayman that I was trying really, really hard! It’s
all Clayman’s fault!!”
“His fault? Ugh… Well, whatever. Not that you’ll ever
listen to anyone else’s complaints…”
I was starting to feel a little bad for Carillon. Seeing
those tears appear on his rugged, masculine eyes, I wanted
to console him as best I could. She tricked me, too, so I
thought we had something in common.
“Now, now, Carillon. Your Lycanthropeers and everyone
else are safe—and they all put in a hell of an effort, fighting
for your revenge. It wasn’t all bad, was it?”
“Ah, Rimuru… Thanks for the thought.”
“Yeah, so don’t worry about it. Besides, you can always
build another town. I even had our forces capture
Clayman’s magic-born to serve as your labor force.”
“Huh? Whoa, are you serious…?!”
“Yep. I’ll provide any technical expertise you need, and
all of us at Tempest will help you out as best we can, too. So
let’s make it a better, happier Eurazania than ever before!”
We had time for it. Time—and funds kindly provided by
Clayman. Considering our future trade prospects, it’d be
strategically beneficial for us to have Carillon owe us a
favor. It seemed like a great opportunity to exploit, and I
wanted to maybe make friends with more beastmen
through the work, too.
“Wahhh-ha-ha-ha! Isn’t that great, Carillon? You have me
to thank for that, too!”
Her to thank for what, I wondered. Maybe for completely
flattening the land around the capital and thus saving us
the trouble of hauling away the rubble?
“I’ll really owe you one,” the surprised yet thankful
Carillon replied. “And you know, Rimuru—or maybe Sir
Rimuru? I promise to you that the Beast Kingdom will never
hesitate to help you out if you need it. We’ll be allied nations
forever! …And I wish you would at least pretend to regret
this a little more,” he didn’t forget to add, turning to Milim.
To her credit, she was back to her usual self—if Carillon
and I were cool, she was cool. That’s Milim for you. Always
looking out for number one—and I didn’t mind, if Carillon
was feeling better.
It appeared that my promises surprised a lot more
people than just Carillon. They were a shock to the demon
lords assembled around us, too.
“So that was it!” observed the smiling red-haired Guy. “I
thought leaving those magic-born alive was a sign of
weakness…but I see you’re a rather creative thinker!
Hardly any wonder that Noir’s taken a liking to you.”
Noir? Who’s that? Ah well.
Frey was back to focusing on Clayman, a quiet anger
enveloping her. “So, Clayman,” she said. “You always were
the sort to domineer over weaker people, or those who
couldn’t resist you. I don’t think you have any right to call
yourself a demon lord. I didn’t intervene since Milim was
trying so hard…but you know what? I was kind of angry at
you, too.”
It made it clear that Frey had no interest in rescuing him.
 “Yeah, I know it’s survival of the fittest, but you took a
step too far, I’d say. You wrecked my country, and I wanna
see you pay for that, okay?”
Carillon did have a lot of damage to deal with. Damage
technically inflicted by Milim, yes, but he was willing to shift
the blame to Clayman here—and make him suffer the
consequences.
None of the other demon lords voiced any opposition to
this. I suppose Clayman wasn’t too popular a guy in this
clique. He was already cornered—and now, the final
moment was approaching.
Time to finish him off.

Feeling the life ebb away from him, Clayman’s heart was
filled with regret. Regret and the words of his friends and
advisers, flashing before his eyes.

“Now’s not the time to be too reckless. Whatever ya do,

don’t letcher guard down…”
—Ah… You were absolutely right, Laplace…
He thought he was being careful, but he let power drown
him. When he beheld Milim’s overwhelming strength, he
made the erroneous assumption that it was all his to wield.
It’s just as you felt it. In the end, I was the one being
controlled by Milim. I thought I was paying attention…but
she tricked me. You trusted in me, left me to rule as your
demon lord, but I suppose this is the end for me…
He had ignored his friend’s warning. And that set these
results in stone.

“You’re weaker than us, Clayman, all right? So no trying

to pull anything weird by yourself, if you could.”
 “Hohh-hoh-hoh-hoh! Teare is right. Feel free to depend
on us instead.”
Ah, Teare. Ah, Footman. You’re right. I forgot…
He was too focused on himself to feel it right to rely on
his friends. He did file the promise in his mind, actually, but
he forgot about that when it counted—one of the most
inexcusable things he could have done.
I just wanted to get as close as I could to them. Of
course I’d take risks to achieve that. Why wouldn’t I? I was
part of the Moderate Jesters, too…
It was true. Clayman wanted the respect of his peers. He
wanted his powers to be recognized, so he never revealed
his Moderate Jesters’ side to the public. Now he realized
that was a mistake.
But it was too late…

…He recalled when he first met the mysterious patron

that led him to this.
“Hey. You’re Clayman, right?”
“Who are you? Someone in a hurry to die, apparently, if
you address me that casually.”
“Whoa, whoa, no need to act so alarmed. We have a
common acquaintance who pointed me here.”
“An acquaintance?”
“Yeah. The demon lord Kazalim. Your creator, of sorts.”
“What?”
He had intended to kill this boy with haste, but then he
mentioned a name from his distant past. Now Clayman was
interested in hearing him out. And when he did, he
discovered the truth about him. His ambitions and his
power.
“I’m going to take over this world, Clayman, and I want
you to help me.”
“Heh… Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! I like it. So that’s your request?”
“Yes. A job for the Moderate Jesters.”
 “And what are your terms?”
“How does resurrecting Kazalim sound to you?”
It was beyond all expectations. There was no reason to
refuse. The powers the boy displayed to him made it clear
beyond doubt. He immediately accepted the job.
“I thought you’d agree to it. Now the world can be ours
together. It’s gonna be one crazy place for us to live in!”
Seeing this boy, living life as if it was all some kind of
wonderful game, Clayman honestly thought he could pull it
off. There were obstacles in their way, massive ones, but
that made it seem all the more fun. It seemed that way, but
now, his mistakes had crumbled the foundation of their
whole strategy. And after the boy had fulfilled his part of the
bargain and revived Kazalim…
My thoughtlessness led to this. There is no defending me
to him now…
Kazalim was alive and well, and he had no way to
congratulate him. More just deserts for him. He had been
ordered to sit tight and watch how things unfolded, and he
ignored those orders for his own petty reasons.

The last thing he recalled were the words of the man

himself—the advice his beloved demon lord Kazalim gave
him.
“…Clayman. I see much of myself in you. And you may
imitate me if you like, but do not imitate my negative
aspects.”
It was wise, all too wise, and something he should have
recalled quicker.
Ah… Sir Kazalim… I apologize. I forgot your advice, and
I committed the gravest mistake possible…
Yes, it was Clayman’s mistake, made in the worst possible
fashion. And just like Kazalim, he was defeated in the most
shameful way—by a freshly born demon lord. Karma in
action, one could say—but to Clayman, it hurt more than
anything else.
And I even lost the army you granted me through my
mistakes… I cannot die. No, I cannot die yet. If I die here
without atoning for this at all, I’ll never be able to forgive
myself…
If it had come to this, he at least wanted to pass on what
he knew. The thought kindled the light of life in Clayman
before he could completely resign himself to his fate.
“You are a walking dead, created by me from a dead
body, but I have placed special weight upon your
brainpower. You are not geared for combat, unlike Footman
and Teare, but no one can use strategy and artifice to
command armies the way that you can. That, Clayman, is
why you shall become a demon lord…”
Kazalim had high hopes for him, and he betrayed them
all. But if it was power he lacked, all he needed was to
obtain some. Then he could stand tall with Footman and
Teare—surpass them, even. If only Clayman had some
power to back up his intelligence, he could’ve sprung past
them all with ease.
Yes… Yes, indeed. There was no need to awaken to a
“true” demon lord at all. So give it to me. Give me power…
Give me the overwhelming power I need!!

Confirmed. Converting the soul into magical energy…

Successful. Disassembling and reconstructing the receptacle
body…

Clayman wasn’t expecting the internally shouted wish to

come true. But the World Language had other plans for
him. Right here, at the last moment, his wish had been
granted.
So heaven hasn’t forsaken me yet!
In which case, Clayman’s answer was obvious.
Heh…heh-heh-heh… So you treat me like a fool? Well, I’ll
repay you for all that. For now, though, I’ve got to get out
of here…
He was weak, too weak to even use his voice, but
Clayman’s soul was burning bright—his life was a raging
flame. And now, with a coolness that was quite the opposite
of what was in his heart, Clayman resolved to retreat. The
older demon lords—Guy, Milim, and Daggrull, in particular
—were too much to handle. Simply awakening wouldn’t
give him the winning edge against them, and now was no
time for recklessness.
First, he would report back to the boy. That took
precedence over everything. The despicable slime he
looked down upon was still a question mark, but even the
magic-born that served him were stronger than Clayman—
and he was on good terms with a revived Veldora, a point
he couldn’t afford to ignore. Anyone who survived a
confrontation with Hinata couldn’t have done so out of
sheer luck.
He needed to abandon his rose-colored glasses and
analyze things for what they were. And that was why he had
to take the information he learned here and bring it back.
Quickly, he assembled a plan. His idea: to release a
massive ball of magical force, as much as he could manage,
and slip out of this chamber in the chaos.
I will need to watch out for Guy…
Guy had no time to deal with weaklings. He probably
wasn’t even paying attention to Clayman any longer.
…It’s all right. I’ll get out of here, I promise.
And if he could take out a few demon lords along the way,
he thought as he scrambled to his feet, all the better.

Among the demon lords watching, I was probably the first

one to notice. I had my eyes on Clayman the entire time,
never giving up the watch.
“Shion, get back!”
Quickly heeding my command, Shion fell back to my side.
Immediately after she did, the area around Clayman—
including the spot she stood on—was swept over by a huge
quantity of magicules. The storm gathered even more
energy from the chamber, focusing itself squarely upon
Clayman. If I had yelled out a moment later, Shion would’ve
been caught up in it.
“Looks like it’s really happening.”
“Sir Rimuru? What is…?”
The sight of me keeping my cool appeared to relieve
Shion. There was no reason to panic. And I wasn’t
panicking, buuuut…
“Clayman’s awakened. Just as planned.”
“Just as planned? Well, great!”
I was glad to earn Shion’s full trust, but I wasn’t quite so
assured myself. This is all according to Raphael’s plan, but
are we really okay with this? ’Cause if we lose, it’s gonna
stop being funny real fast…
When I first laid eyes on Clayman earlier, I could see a
large number of rifts in the air around him, as if they were
attached to his soul. It was malice personified, the remains
of the souls from the people he had killed up to now. But I
couldn’t just take them from him. They couldn’t go on to the
afterlife, and they couldn’t dissolve into the air. If I killed
Clayman, they’d go down with him.
As I thought over what I could do about this, Raphael
suggested a plan of action: force Clayman into a corner and
make him awaken to a “true” demon lord.

Suggestion. If you use Belzebuth to consume the energy

Clayman releases upon awakening, it will be possible to
restore your magicules.
 It was easy for Raphael to say, but there was a litany of
problems with that. I didn’t know if Clayman would awaken,
and if he did, he’d undoubtedly be powered up. But hey, um,
wouldn’t he just fall asleep, like with my Harvest Festival?

Understood. Since Clayman’s evolution did not follow the

standard procedure, the process will not be fully complete.
As a result, it is believed that he will not require sleep.

So sort of a limited power-up, then. I guess I’ll just have

to defeat an awakened Clayman, then.
According to Raphael’s predictive calculations, defeating
him would be a breeze no matter how much he was
enhanced. That was based on everything from his core
strength to the power he could earn and the skills he was
likely to acquire. Even at the maximum threat level, its
answers indicated I was still on top of him.
No point worrying about it, then. Just gotta do it.
Besides, it was kind of true that my magical energy was
just about ready to bottom out. I could replenish it really
fast, so it’d bounce right back after deploying a large-scale
spell, but restoring it to full actually took a while. Although I
had more energy than my awakening took, I was also using
Veldora this whole time as a fuel tank to restore it. With him
no longer part of me, it was natural to want to keep my own
magicules topped off.
It’d also earn me some street cred with the other demon
lords. As the new recruit, I needed to seize a seat at the
round table with my own power. Showing off my battlefield
skill was the best way to earn their acceptance without
stirring up trouble in the future. If I didn’t want ’em
wheedling me later, I wanted them to think that I shouldn’t
be messed with.
Let’s use this awakened Clayman to show off my power.
It’ll save everyone a lot of trouble as time goes on. And the
power to show off? The ultimate skill Belzebuth, Lord of
Gluttony, of course.
“Hey! Rimuru! Clayman’s awakened? I can’t believe it,
but look at all that force! Let me help with—”
“You’re fine, Carillon. I’ll take him on. I’m calling myself a
demon lord, and I want to earn my way into the club. I’m
gonna dispatch him and make them all accept me!”
Carillon shrugged and stepped aside. “Well, don’t blow
it,” he said, and I definitely didn’t intend to. The enemy had
to be crushed—that was the only reason I needed. I was
more pissed off at Clayman than anyone else. It was time to
settle this.

So I walked toward Clayman, now fully on his feet. The

other demon lords were content with watching, seemingly
all right with me fighting alone. I was sure they wanted to
gauge what I had, so I assumed they wouldn’t complain.
Milim was brightly smiling at me, and Ramiris was happily
humming to herself. Nobody was doubting my chances—
which I took as them believing in me.
“Shion, Ranga, step back.”
“But…!”
“I’ve got this.”
“Y-yes sir!”
“Good luck, Sir Rimuru.”
The other lords gave them enough distance to retreat
away so that I wouldn’t unwittingly hurt anyone else.
Now I was alone, and Clayman gave me his sickly little
laugh. “Heh-heh-heh, ha-ha-ha-ha-haaaah! Look at me! I’ve
obtained the power! You thought I was finished, you worm!
Now prepare to be crushed!!”
The laughter grew louder as he looked down at me. But
it was all an act. It was sad, how well Raphael had predicted
all his moves.
As it described matters, there were two potential
strategies Clayman could take. One was a desperate bull
rush to kill me; the other was to sneer at me, make me lose
my cool, and search for a path of escape. Evidently, he
chose the latter, and that meant I knew what he’d do next.
I grimaced at him, keeping my eyes firmly on every move
he made. Clayman was looking for an opening. So I played
along with his performance.
“I told you, you’re cornered. I’m stronger than you. Give
it up and tell me whose bidding you’re doing.”
Of course, in my case, it wasn’t a performance—it was
what I really wanted from him. Perhaps that was why
Clayman so easily took the bait.
“Heh-heh-heh… Impertinent to the end, I see. Once I
release my—”
He kept up the act as he suddenly took action. He
must’ve figured I was off my guard, because he fired a
massive ball of magical energy from out of nowhere.
Must’ve been building it up as we talked. It was a huge,
superpowered blast, one that contained all the energy he
had just awakened into, and it was hurtling straight my way.
Clayman assumed I would dodge it. That or maybe fire
off a blast of my own to neutralize it, although a spur-of-the-
moment spell like that from me wouldn’t be enough. If I
jumped away, it’d explode in midair; if I tried blowing it up,
he’d be able to escape in the resulting gigantic explosion.
That, I imagine, were his thoughts.
 Too bad, though.
“Didn’t I just tell you? You’re cornered. That attack won’t
do a thing. Projectiles don’t work on me.”
Belzebuth gobbled up that massive energy blast, leaving
our surroundings completely unaffected. Clayman’s scheme
bit the dust hard.
“…Whaaaa?!”
It surprised Clayman enough to leave himself open—just
long enough for me to snap my fingers. At that instant, a
Barrier erected itself over the two of us, a kind of imitation
of the one Guy built.
“So he’s stealing my skills?” a bemused but unangered
Guy asked. “Talk about shameless.”
Now, I calmly thought, I can consume Clayman with
confidence. Man, my thought processes are getting more
and more evil by the day, aren’t they? Because I’m a
monster, maybe? I wasn’t shirking the idea of eating him up
at all. Or was it because I’m a demon lord now? Ah, it
doesn’t matter.
“Wh-what? What happened…?”
Clayman could no longer hide his confusion. The biggest,
proudest attack he had was wiped away in an instant, and
his brain hadn’t caught up to that yet. Like, how many
times do I have to say it? You’re already cornered. The
moment someone with your level of talent took me on, your
future was cast in stone. It’s so important, isn’t it, to fully
gauge your abilities against those of your opponent?
“Look, if you’re gonna be serious about this, make it fast.
I’ll wait for you. Or were you thinking about ducking out of
this chamber while that attack exploded all over us?”
It was a fully rhetorical question I was cornering him
with. Talk about disrespecting your fellow man. Well, I’m a
slime now, so it’s all right.

I mean, Clayman was still screwing with me. He was on

high alert, watching for what I’d do next, but he was still a
wimp about it.
Just as Raphael expected, getting awakened didn’t do all
that much to change him. He had a ton more magical
energy, but that was it. Apparently, he hadn’t obtained any
ability to control it or new skills to take advantage of it with.
His “awakening” was a far different thing from mine. Me, I
could use Mind Accelerate to speed up my brain a million
times until it felt like time stopped. I could even cast spells
in that state, making it look like I could just think of a magic
spell to set it off.
Kneading together a big ball of magic was a terribly
inefficient use of my time, so I didn’t opt for that here.
Unlike a full spell, which could be conceived and cast
through one’s will (or knowledge, in other words),
controlling one’s aura always led to a time lag. Of course, I
could handle that because I had Cast Cancel and All of
Creation. No matter how long and intricate a spell was,
living life a million times slower than normal made it simple.
One second, after all, now felt like two hundred and
seventy-seven hours. Even the fanciest of spells could be
pulled off in less than a day, so that meant I could trigger
them in less than a tenth of a second. With regular magic, it
was simple for me to set off multiples at the same time,
even.
Thus, if I were in Clayman’s shoes, I’d use multiple layers
of magic to throw the chamber into confusion, then attempt
to run as fast as I could. He didn’t choose that, which meant
he didn’t have the strength for it. He hadn’t even noticed
that I built a barrier around us—one that cut off any escape
route. If he wanted to get out, he’d have to do it over my
dead body.
Whether he was aware of this or not, the atmosphere
around Clayman began to change.
“Heh…heh-heh-heh… A mere slime with a big mouth, I
see. You are strong, I will admit that much. But I am
capable of far more than this!!”
He had changed tactics to the first scenario—a desperate
bull rush to kill me. Giving up the escape, revealing his full
force to the demon lords… A risky bet, to be sure, but it
gave him a winning chance. Surrounded by a bunch of lords
who believed that strength was everything, it’d even be a
chance to write off all his previous crimes.
Assuming, of course, he could beat me.
“You seem confident in your aura-control abilities, but do
you think you could deal with this? Here we go—my most
powerful hidden skill! Demon Blaster!!”
After that long speech to throw off my game, he put his
feelers to the ground, stretching them out around me, and
then released.
The attack harnessed the ley lines under the ground,
stacking them together and mixing in his own magicules to
amplify them, then released it as a destabilizing ray of light.
That was the long and short of it, and anyone caught in it
would have their arrangement of magicules thrown into
chaos, destroying them from the inside. Physical resistance
would be useless, and even a magical Barrier would be
instantly smashed.
This was the natural enemy of any monster, and I had to
hand it to him—this was real demon lord stuff. But it didn’t
work on me.
“Swallow it all down, Belzebuth…”
The Demon Blaster light beam looked like a herd of
dragons rising up from the ground—but now they were
caught up in a rift before they could reach me, screaming
their last as they were sucked inside. There was no escape,
almost like a black hole that consumed all light around it.
“Forget it, Clayman. You’re weaker than me.”
I had to crush him. Crush him and hopefully make him
reveal something about his patron. The best way to do that
was via terror.
“No… That, that’s not possible!! That—that was my
secret weapon!”
Secret or not, projectiles just didn’t work on me. Maybe if
he used his head and did something to land a direct hit on
me, things would be different.
“Do you see that you can’t win now? So let me ask you.
Tell me what you know and who you’re cooperating with. Be
honest with me, and I’ll give you a painless death.”
“Ha-ha-ha-ha-haaa! I am a walking dead! Kill me all you
want; I’ll just resurrect myself and come back later to kill—
Ounngh?!”
I punched him. Then again, and again and again, without
a word. I also applied Mind Accelerate, speeding it up a
million times for him. Raphael could influence not just my
perspective but those of people around me.
In the real world, it lasted several seconds. But in
Clayman’s mind, I was continually punching him,
tormenting him with pain and terror, for several dozen
days. So I could carve that pain and terror into his soul. And
in those few seconds, the terror made Clayman’s hair fall
out, transforming his visage into the ghastly, bony gaze of
the actual dead.
“Clayman,” I quietly called out.
His body convulsed, then froze out of terror.
“I’m going to ask you one more time. Who are you
getting your information from, and how is this person
related to you? Tell me, and I’ll make it easy on you.”
But Clayman had more backbone than I thought.
“Don’t… Don’t treat me like a child. I would never betray
my friends—and especially not my clients. That, and that
alone, is the ironclad rule of the Moderate Jesters!”
Huh. So even villains had certain unbreakable rules.
“All right. Well, so be it.” I casually changed my tone. “Oh,
right, I should probably tell you—you realize you aren’t
gonna be resurrected, right?”
He had talked about doing that a few seconds—or days?
—ago, but it wasn’t gonna happen. Being consumed by
Belzebuth was an even more tragic fate than being caught
in the inescapable Unlimited Imprisonment Veldora was
locked in.
“Wh-what? What are you talking about?”
Was he keeping up that macho act because he was
counting on a new life later on, then? The moment he heard
me, Clayman began to quiver.
“Look, um, what you told me earlier? About how walking
dead can come alive again after they die? And that’s why
you wanted me to focus on killing you, so you could pluck
out your astral body and try to run away. Right?”
He was an underhanded sneak, but I had to applaud him
for his single-minded devotion to his cause. But my
observation made his face pale.
“Wh-what did you…?”
He tried to cover it, but I could tell I was right. Not even I
needed Raphael to figure it out—but Raphael had even
more amazing stuff for me.
“Ummm, so you can connect your astral body to the ley
lines here to keep your consciousness and memories
protected, yeah? So even if you lose your physical body,
you’ll never truly die. That’s why you were pretending to
die there?”
Ahhh. Now I see. And just parroting out what Raphael
told me made Clayman convulse before me. I was absolutely
correct.
“W-wait, wait…”
I knew his game. And now it was time to end it. I turned
toward the demon lords surrounding us, ignoring the
gibbering Clayman.
“Well! I guess I won’t extract anything else from
Clayman, so I’m going to execute him shortly. Anyone have
any objections? ’Cause if you do, I’ll be happy to take you
on, too.”
It would suck if someone did, but I doubted it.
“Do as you please,” Guy answered, speaking for the
Council like I thought he would. No one else voiced any
complaint.
“Stop! Wait, stop it!!”
Now Clayman was loudly pleading for his life, finally
realizing there was no escape.
“After all the grief you gave me, I’m absolutely sick of
you. Don’t expect your death to be all sunshine and
rainbows, all right?”
With that, I placed my hand on his head. I thought I’d
make it quick ’n’ easy on him if he coughed up some info on
his master, but Clayman never sang. I really wanted him to,
considering what I’d have to deal with in the future, but
hey, I’d probably manage without it. There might be some
more leads in his castle to explore, and given the testimony
I had that the Modest Jesters weren’t a monster ring, it was
obvious that Clayman had worked with humans. I didn’t
know if that meant the Eastern Empire or the Western
Nations, but either way, if he knew about my own
movements, he had to have connections in the west. Track
those down, and I should find a trail to follow before long.
In a way, relying on the not-too-credible Clayman’s
testimony might just lead to more confusion.
So. Clayman.
“…I hope you’ll spend the last few moments before your
soul vanishes regretting what you’ve done.”
“No! Wait, wait! Stop!! Stoooopppp!! Help, help me,
Footman! Teare, help me! I can’t die yet. I can’t die
heeeerrrreee!!”
It was pathetic, watching him try to flee. But I wasn’t
about to allow it. No matter how much he carried on, none
of it would ever touch my heart. Leaving someone like this
alive would just be planting the seed of disaster.
Plus, thanks to you, the naïveté in me just died. There
was no way I could let that get one of my companions killed
again.
“P-please, Lord Kazalim, help me—”
 He reached out to his broken mask, clutching at it as if in
prayer—

Crunch.

In an instant, the wailing, howling, resisting Clayman

disappeared from sight. Body, soul, and all were greedily
consumed by Belzebuth. And now it was converted into
pure magicules inside me, where he would get to
experience the torments of hell.
And whether a dirtied soul like his—a tainted, evil soul—
or a sensible, good soul, death treated them all equally.

And for a moment, I thought I heard his voice:

—Ah, Laplace. You were exactly right. I think I went a
little too far. I should have waited and bade my time, like
you warned me to… You always were right…

Was that regret? I suppose even a villain like him feels

regret. Let’s hope that the “death” I gave him helps him get
more familiar with that emotion.
 CHAPTER 6

THE OCTAGRAM

The moment I consumed Clayman, the red-haired demon

lord Guy stood up.
“An impressive feat,” he solemnly intoned. “I hereby
recognize your right, from this day forward, to call yourself
a demon lord. Does anyone disagree?”
Nobody appeared to. I had passed the exam. That’s a
relief, because—to be frank—goading the other demon
lords into combat with me felt like suicide. I guess I never
had much to worry about.
I undid the Barrier, allowing Ramiris to fly right up to my
face, like she always did. “Ha-ha! I always knew you
delivered the goods when the time came for it, Rimuru! In
fact, I’d be happy to hire you as my apprentice!”
“Uh, I’m good, thanks. Find yourself another one.”
“Why?!” she grumped. “What’s the big deal? Why
won’tcha just say yes like a good kid?”
“Hmph!” Milim proudly sniffed. “Rimuru’s my friend. I
heard he doesn’t even want to get along with you!”
“What? No way! Hey! That’s a lie, right, Rimuru?”
“Wah-ha-ha-ha-ha! Sorry, Ramiris, you aren’t part of our
team!”
“Whaaaat? Hyah!”
Taking the bait, Ramiris launched a flying kick at Milim’s
face. She leaned to the side to dodge it and laughed even
harder at her. Huh. These guys are better friends than I
thought.
Meanwhile, I noticed Veldora engrossed in friendly-
looking conversation with the demon lord Daggrull,
bragging about how he was training to keep his aura
hidden. “You see him, Daggrull?” he said, pointing at me.
“That’s how you do it.”
“Indeed,” the giant replied, nodding. “It was just for a
moment, but I felt an explosive amount of magicules from
him. Amazing he can hide it so well.”
Veldora had apparently been providing color
commentary for my battle against Clayman. I really wish
he’d knock that stuff off. That was exactly why I told him to
keep watch in town for me.
Deeno, meanwhile, yawned at me, his attention span
already waning now that the action was over. “Well,” he
moaned, “it’s fine by me.” Weirdo. And a hard one to pin,
too. I’m never sure what he’s thinking about.
To Leon, however, none of this mattered. “Heh. I don’t
care who becomes a demon lord. Do whatever you want.”
Talk about cold.

Frey and Carillon had no objections to my new title.

Which left one person.
Valentine, who had remained silent until now, lumbered
up to his feet.
“Mmmm. Personally, I would never want to allow a low-
born slime to ever become a demon lord, but…”
Dressed as gaudily as a mighty emperor, Valentine
sneered down at me. Guess he was a no, even if I was
guaranteed to win by majority vote. No worries, then, I
thought as I was about to turn my attention elsewhere,
when:
“Kwaaaaah-ha-ha-ha! Are you insulting my friend, you
lackey?”
Veldora turned his casual attention on the maid next to
Valentine.
“Come on, Milus, you really need to train your servants
better. Want me to provide a little education?”
Whoa! Hey! What the hell, man?!
“What are you talking about?” Milus returned Veldora’s
gaze, her voice frigid and her expression icy. “I am simply a
faithful attendant of Sir Valentine’s.”
“Heyyyy, don’t do that! Valentine’s hiding the truth,
Veldora. You can’t say that!”
Um, Milim? Did you just kind of blow the door open on
that, or what?!
I had a suspicion something fishy was going on with him,
but I suppose I was right. This fetching young maid Milus
was the actual demon lord, and now she glared at Milim,
attempting to stab her in the chest with her eyes.
“Ah!”
Finally realizing her error, Milim began whistling a tune
to divert everyone’s attention away from her.
Maybe it would’ve worked better if she could actually
whistle, but no sound was coming out, and I doubted it’d
make much difference. Milus didn’t seem the type to take a
joke, and these antics weren’t about to calm her down.
She looked around the chamber, thoroughly annoyed,
her eyes making her look like she planned to kill us all and
hide the evidence. She looked hostile and dangerous, but
luckily, she decided not to take on the entire rest of the
room.
“Tch. Such a bothersome, villainous dragon. How long
will he insist upon meddling with me…? And you’ve
forgotten my very name, no less. How can anyone have such
a gift for aggravating me?”
Now the atmosphere was very different as Milus—well,
the demon lord Valentine, that is—spoke. It seems that
Veldora was dunderheaded enough to misremember her
name entirely, which did a lot to push her buttons.
“Enough of this,” she huffed. “You may call me
Valentine.” Then, with a massive outburst of magical force,
her appearance transformed, her maid outfit turning into a
fancy Gothic-style dress. It was Change Dress in action, a
neat trick Milim was adept at as well.
Yep. This was the real thing. The stand-in Valentine was a
remarkable specimen himself, but his “maid” was on
another dimension. Now we were greeted by a demon lord
among demon lords, the ultimate personification of
strength and beauty.
“You can leave ahead of me, Roy,” she ordered the kingly
ex-Valentine.
 “But Lady Valentine—”
“If I’ve been unmasked in front of this many people,
there’s no point keeping up the charade.”
She glared at Veldora yet again. “It…it’s not my fault—I
didn’t know,” he stammered, feeling out of sorts and trying
to avoid her gaze. To Milim, meanwhile, it was already
someone else’s problem. The topic was over in her mind.
Selfish as always, I could see.
Perhaps understanding that more than most, Valentine
seemed ready to drop the subject, as peeved as she was
about all this. Shaking off her anger, she stood before Roy,
now comfortably back in the servant role.
“Anyway,” she intoned, “there is something that concerns
me. When Clayman looked at you, his eyes stopped for a
moment, did they not? He might be involved with those
cockroaches that invaded my domain earlier. I want you to
return home and inform my people to step up our security.”
Guess Carillon and I weren’t the only guys Clayman
picked a fight with. No wonder everybody hated him.
Maybe he was just trying to discover where Valentine’s
domain was—it was still a secret—but even for a data-
gathering fiend like him, sometimes it was all too easy to
step over the line.
“…Yes, my lady.”
Roy left the chamber alone, not questioning Valentine’s
order for a moment. No, he had no business being on the
throne at all. He really was just a political stand-in. It was, I
suppose, a sign of Valentine’s power and influence.

Time to switch gears. I plucked the round table out from my

Stomach and set it back in place. Good thing I thought
about storing it before I smashed it up. If battle had broken
out before the barrier was in place, I’m sure it would’ve
been a mess. The thing looked far too fancy for restitution
to be cheap.
All the demon lords sat back down at the table, while
Guy’s two maids prepared some tea for us.
“Ah,” Leon suddenly said next to me, “I just remembered.
I thought I had heard the name Kazalim somewhere before,
but that’s the demon lord I killed, isn’t it?”
I thought I was gonna spit the tea out right there. How
could he be so nonchalant with that?
“You know him, Leon?”
And how could Milim not know that? The other demon
lords seemed similarly unfazed, many apparently clueless
about the guy. Even Ramiris had completely forgotten. I
thought she kept her memories whenever she was reborn?
I wanted to poke fun at her about it, but that’d just be
mean.
…So what’s Kazalim got to do with this?

…Understood. The word Kazalim was uttered by Clayman

as he called for help.

Oh, right, right! Now I remember. He did scream

something like that. I totally remember that, so hopefully
nobody’s putting me on the same boat with Milim and
Ramiris.
“So how is this Kazalim related to Clayman?” I asked.
“Kazalim is the Curse Lord,” Carillon explained. “You and
he recommended me to this post, didn’t you, Milim?”
“Ohhhh, him! The Curse Lord, I remember. Huh. So
that’s the demon lord Leon killed?”
So she knew him by his nickname? That made a little
sense. But really, it’s not like Leon killed any other demon
lords. If I had to guess, she probably almost forgot since it
was just all too boring to her.
“Right. Kazalim was a walking dead like Clayman,” said
Carillon, his voice a tad nostalgic. “A unique monster, he
said, evolved by himself from an elf. I was kinda friendly
with him, so that’s what he told me. The two of them
must’ve been connected behind the scenes. Clayman took
over Kazalim’s old seat, besides.”
Unlike Clayman, Carillon didn’t seem to have any bad
blood for this guy. But hang on a minute. I almost let it
pass, but if Kazalim’s a walking dead, too…
“Is Kazalim still alive? Maybe he just pretended Leon
killed him, and he’s hiding out somewhere?”
“Yeah,” agreed Carillon, “that might be the case. He was
a really sharp guy, you know? You had to be even more
careful with him than Clayman.”
So maybe I was right.
“Well,” Leon naturally objected, “I don’t much like you
phrasing it like I let him get away. He invited me to join his
force, claiming he would help me become a demon lord.
Turning him down would have led to assorted annoyances,
so I decided to defeat him and seize his position. Whether
he’s alive or dead, it doesn’t matter to me.”
Certainly, I could see it if Leon just wanted to stage a
display of power without actually wanting to kill him.
“Whoa there, Leon. That’s exactly why Clayman hated
you, you realize.”
“Hmph. Do you think I care?”
Yeah, to Leon, the whole subject was just an annoyance,
no doubt. I didn’t realize Clayman was trying to put the
screws to Leon, too, though. He was just trying to hit
everyone up, wasn’t he? I was starting to wonder just how
smart he really was.
Still, I was starting to gain a picture of what Kazalim and
Clayman were up to. Leon had taken his seat here around
two centuries ago, so maybe Kazalim got Carillon and
Clayman into the club, then tried to earn a few more friends
for himself. Clayman’s earlier scheme to turn an orc lord
into a demon lord seemed like kind of a rehash of that—he
wanted more people friendly to him, so he could wield more
power at Walpurgis. Trying to build blocs of voters, like in
an Earth government, was a surprisingly sneaky and non-
demon-lord-like move, I thought. A pretty powerful one, too.
“Among Clayman’s allies were a group called the
Moderate Jesters,” I said. “Those Jesters hinted that they
had connections among the human world, so perhaps the
resurrected Kazalim has taken human form, you know?”
According to Leon, Kazalim’s body disappeared after he
was defeated. If he was alive again, it’d be in his spiritual-
body form at first. It made sense that he’d then install
himself into the physical body of something else. Reviving
himself within the realm of a demon lord would lead to
being instantly discovered, and considering nobody had
found him yet, that theory could be safely discounted.
“You might be correct,” Guy unexpectedly stated. “Leon’s
attacks have the power to destroy your spirit. If anything, I
would mightily praise Kazalim for surviving. Plus, even for
demons like ourselves, a full resurrection from our souls
alone takes hundreds of years. I doubt a walking dead could
ever perform it alone. Not without assistance.”
Walking dead, unlike demons, were dependent on their
physical bodies. Full resurrection from the astral body took
time, and if anything, Kazalim being alive would be a small
miracle. So did Guy mean to imply that Kazalim had help? It
all seemed connected, but for now, we had no further
evidence to go on.
“Well, either way, I’ll just assume he’s alive and stay on
my guard for him. If I just killed Clayman, he might be out
for revenge.”
“Wah-ha-ha-ha-ha! Why worry, Rimuru? You’re a lot
stronger than him now!”
“Milim,” I shouted, “that’s the exact kind of cockiness
that leads to getting killed!”
Thanks to my victory today, Clayman’s forces were out of
the picture. I didn’t think our foes would make any moves
for a while, but we still had to keep a sharp watch out. Me
alone was one thing, but I now had legions of friends to
keep safe. We’d have to devote more resources to our
defense and think up ways to handle the threats ahead.

After some more chatting, the Council continued. With the

one who called it out of the meeting, Guy took over in his
place.
“The main subject of this Council was Carillon’s betrayal
and the rise of Rimuru over there, but those issues have
been settled. Carillon has betrayed no one, and Rimuru has
demonstrated ample power to join our ranks. Personally, I’d
be happy to adjourn this session here, but an opportunity
like this doesn’t come along every day. Does anyone have
something they’d like to say to the other demon lords?”
“Could I, perhaps? Since we’re in the middle of this
Council, I have a suggestion to give, or really, more a
request,” Frey said.
“Certainly. Go ahead.”
Frey nodded at Guy. “Starting today, I’ve decided to
serve Milim. As a result, I want to abdicate from my seat as
a demon lord.”
Well. That was a bombshell.
“Whoa, that’s kind of sudden, isn’t it?”
“Wait, Frey! I didn’t hear anything about that!”
“No, because I didn’t say anything about it. But I’ve been
thinking about it for a while, do you see?”
She squinted, as if looking at some faraway point. Then
she laughed, like she was recalling something amusing.
Frey recalled a conversation she had with Milim, the one
that made her decide to place her trust in the girl.
“Hey, Frey, you wanna be friends with me?”
“…Why are you asking me that?”
“Well, Rimuru and I just made friends! Friends are really
great. If you ever have any trouble, you both help out each
other!”
“Oh, really? Well, Milim…if you’re willing to help me out,
then all right, I can be your friend.”
“Really?! Oh, I totally promise, of course!”
“You do? I’m glad to hear that. But I’m a pretty wary
woman, so I’ll trust you only if you keep that promise.”
“All right! Hooray, we’re friends now!”
Frey had no trust in Clayman. That was why she believed
in Milim, putting her own safety in the balance as she
pretended to accept his terms.
What if Milim broke that promise? What if Milim’s mind
really was under his control? The questions worried her,
but Frey still placed her chips on Milim—and they paid off,
big time.
That was the reason. The reason why Frey put all her
trust in Milim, volunteering to become her servant. At that
moment, a lofty queen who had never trusted anyone
before in her life finally found it in her to believe.

“Well,” she resolutely stated, “I have my reasons. But the

most important one is that I think I’m too weak to be a
demon lord. I realized that for sure watching that battle
just now; if I fought against Clayman, I’d be lucky to even
match him. As for an awakened Clayman, I don’t see how I
could win…”
“But, Frey,” Daggrull interrupted, “you specialize in high-
speed aerial combat, do you not? I see no reason to
depreciate yourself like this.”
“You’re right. If it was in the air, I would have the
advantage. But demon lords don’t have the right to make
excuses. Besides, I know quite well how having an
advantage doesn’t mean anything, at times.”
She paused to give me a look, her voice resolute.
“So I’ve decided to become one of Milim’s followers
instead. Plus, Milim can’t afford to be as selfish as she is
forever, can she? She needs to think about managing her
domain, sooner or later.”
In other words, Frey wasn’t just thinking for herself.
Milim was a wild child, and you couldn’t just let her off the
leash. Someone to both support and keep an eye on her was
definitely needed.
Despite Frey’s own admission, I really couldn’t see her as
being that weak. If anything, she was a strategist in a
different way from Clayman, a strange, eerie leader who
never let you see what she thought about you. The type that
reminded you just how formidable her sex could be.
What would happen, though, if this actually happened?
Thinking of Frey in terms of a servant, not as a demon lord,
she definitely had enough power to be an aid to Milim. She
didn’t really have a nation of her own, but if Frey joined her,
they’d no doubt have a formal territory in place before long.
We’d have to think about building political relations soon
after, and with Frey handling them, I bet the negotiations
would get pretty thorny. Thorny, but still fun.
Frey turned toward Milim. “What do you think? Will you
accept my suggestion?”
“Ooh, I don’t really like to keep a citizenry to rule over—”
“Wait a second,” Carillon said. “I got something to say
about that, too. Y’know, I’ve already lost to Milim in a one-
on-one match. I’m honestly startin’ to think now’s a pretty
good time to hang up my cap as a military leader. On paper,
all us demon lords are equal. If we’re all facin’ a Hero,
that’s one thing, but if I lost to another demon lord, I really
oughtta do away with the title, y’know? So, I dunno, it just
felt absurd for me to keep calling myself a demon lord. So I
think I’ll join Milim’s faction starting today. Great to be on
the team, boss!”
He wasn’t asking for feedback.
I could understand the logic. With these guys, might
always makes right. Still, though… I mean, Milim didn’t
have anyone under her, no advisers or officers to go out
against this, but was it really okay for two demon lords to
step down and join her side?
“Wait a minute, Carillon! That one-on-one was all
Clayman’s fault! I was under mind control. I don’t know
anything about it!”
Eesh. I really don’t think that excuse is gonna work,
Milim. I could see the other demon lords rolling their eyes
at her.
“Don’t play dumb with me, you. You just declared a
minute ago that ‘Oooh, nobody can take over my mind, no!’”
It was a remarkably good impression on Carillon’s part.
He had quite a talent for acting.
“Mgh?! I, um, that…”
“Well, that muscle-bound idiot can wait. What about me,
Milim?”
“You—you aren’t all saying this to trick me, are you? If
you start ‘serving’ me, that means we can’t talk all casually
any longer, yeah? You won’t play with me, and we won’t
come up with any more fun schemes, yeah?!”
Frey shook her head. “No. I’ll get to be together with you
all the time. We’ll get to have more fun than ever.”
I could see the brainwashing— Er, the temptation take
hold. See? This is why you gotta watch out for her.
Carillon, meanwhile, was taking the fastball-down-the-
middle approach. “Besides,” he complained, “you’re the one
who blew my entire damn country away! Rimuru said he’ll
help me out with that, but you’ve got a duty to support us,
too!”
 I didn’t think she did, really, but Milim was always weak
with complicated concepts like this. Man, he was smarter
than I thought. Milim’s eyes were bouncing to and fro; he
almost had her—and then, growing weary of thinking at all,
she exploded.
“Daaahhhh! All right! Just do whatever you guys feel
like!”
Smoke flew from her head like an erupting volcano as
she abandoned all sentient thought. That’s Milim for you.
She acted all smart, but she really sucked at critical
thinking.
“Are you really sure about this, Carillon?” Guy asked.
“I am. I’ve been thinking, too. Not about abdicating the
throne of the Beast Kingdom, but about maybe building
some kind of new structure with Milim at the top of it.”
Guy scoffed at this, looking disappointed. “I liked you,
though. In another hundred years, I was expecting you to
awaken, too.” Then he grinned at him. “But very well! From
this moment, Frey and Carillon are no longer demon lords.
You are free to serve Milim in any manner you please.”

Now the abdication was official, and nobody voiced any

further complaint. Myself included, of course.
So now I was officially deemed a demon lord, one had
dropped out due to brutal death, and two had stepped
down to become vassals answering directly to Milim. The
Ten Great Demon Lords were now eight.

I thought this would mark the end of the Council, but there
was one problem left.
“Huh, so we aren’t the Ten Great Demon Lords any
longer?”
 It was just a sidelong observation on my part, but it
generated a much greater reaction than expected.
“That is a concern,” Daggrull rumbled. “In terms of our
dignity, we will need to consider a new name.”
Huh? It’s really that important?
“Fortunately, Walpurgis is still under way. We have all our
demon lords here. Now would be a wonderful time to
brainstorm.”
Even Valentine, the demon lord who definitely couldn’t
take a joke, was unironically up for it. Does this really
matter, guys? I think the humans are gonna come up with
one for us either way, right?
“Oooh yes, it was a real mess the last go-round. Our
numbers kept going up and down, and we had to hold so
many darn Councils to settle on a new name each time!”
Wha?! They trigger Walpurgises on something that
unimportant?! Ramiris described them as this grand, stately
event, a special meeting of the minds… Oh, but didn’t she
call it a “chat over tea” at first? I was really starting not to
care.
“You’re right,” said Daggrull. “The Ten Great Demon
Lords thing stuck after the humans came up with that,
didn’t it? After we wasted all that time thinking something
up. Well, I’m through with it. I don’t have the wherewithal
to think about it.”
You just wanted to stop using your brain for a while,
didn’t you? Don’t act like you were such a helpful
participant up to now.
“Silence, you! All you did was complain. I don’t
remember a single constructive suggestion from your end!”
Valentine knew exactly what I was thinking.
“What’re you talking about, Valentine? You left that
whole process to Roy, did you not?!” Deeno shot her down.
Unlike Milim and Ramiris, their erudition was mainly
utilized to avoid work as much as possible. Why were they
spending all this time thinking up names anyway? Like, they
appeared dead serious about this. Did all demon lords have
this much free time to work with?
Upon further query, I learned that the name Ten Great
Demon Lords from the human realms stuck because they
had spent years trying to devise something themselves.
That was due to fluctuations in the number of demon lords
—just when they thought they had something nailed down,
they’d go up or down a head. So they wound up just going
with the Ten Great Demon Lords, even though some were
less than happy with it. It was all some of the most useless
trivia I ever heard.
“All right. People. Calm down. We need to show some
cooperation for a change. We can overcome this!” Guy had
just admitted that his fellow demon lords were usually
pretty damn uncooperative.
“Um, but… Should we, um…? The Eight Great—”
Ramiris’s suggestion was met with such deafening
silence that she couldn’t even get it fully out.
“R-right,” she stammered, trying to deflect it. “Guy’s got
a good point! Let’s work on this together!”
Enthusiasm for the Eight Great Demon Lords was at an
all-time low. Everyone was in agreement on that, but it
didn’t mean we were being any more cooperative with one
another.
“Wah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! I’ll let you guys take care of that
stuff!”
“I’m tired. I’m gonna go to sleep.”
It took less than a minute for us all to fall apart. I
expected it from these guys, and I sure got it. I wasn’t
expecting one big happy family, but it was exactly as I
predicted.
But one among us was able to cut through the awkward
atmosphere—someone behind me who wasn’t picking up on
our impasse at all.
“Oh? If that’s the problem, then my Rimuru’s a real
professional!”
 It was Veldora, no doubt growing bored and pining to go
home already. Ugh. Now all their eyes were on me. I really
wish he had some manga to read instead. Wait. Did he
already finish reading the last volume?
And now I could see Milim’s eyes fixated upon him—or
actually, that manga volume in his hand, like a hawk sizing
up its prey. I had a bad feeling about that, but there were
more pressing issues at hand.
“You know,” Ramiris said with a nod, “when he named
Beretta, he came up with that name in no time flat, too!”
Great. They were delegating everything to me. That
bum… She’s treating me with less and less respect over
time, I swear. I could tell she was gradually going to push
more and more on my plate. Looking around, I could see
expectant expressions all around the table. Crap. They’ve
already fully surrounded me?!
The demon lords looked at one another, then Guy stood
up. “Rimuru, today you stand as a new demon lord. I wish to
grant you a wonderful new privilege—”
“Oh, um, I don’t need it, thanks.”
I tried cutting him off before he could finish. He wasn’t
gonna let it happen. With a heavy wham, the shiny,
obsidian-like, horribly valuable table was chopped right in
half.
“Yes,” he said as he gracefully walked right up to me,
running a hand past my cheek, “I will grant you the right to
provide us with a new name. A very honorable position, I
should say. You will accept it, yes?”
He was totally wheedling me. The gesture might have
made it look like kindness at first, but his voice made it
clear that no insubordination would be allowed. I looked at
him, neither nodding nor shaking my head, attempting to
plead the fifth.
“And you know,” he whispered, half biting at my ears. His
fingernails were practically screeching as they dug into my
cheek. “This all happened because you culled our numbers,
did it not? You’ll be kind enough to take responsibility and
come up with a name, yes?”
An impartial observer might wonder if we were lovers
sharing a special moment. We weren’t. He was threatening
me—but if things had gone this far, I had nothing to refute
him with. It’s really that much of a pain…?
Well, whatever.
“All right! Sheesh. You don’t have to whine so much just
because you don’t like it.”
Resigning myself to my fate, I grudgingly took up the
post. The looks of relief on my colleagues’ faces spoke
volumes. Some were even kicking back and accepting refills
on their tea, like this was already over. Well, screw them.
Really, I didn’t mind the Eight Great Demon Lords
much…but yeah, maybe it’s a little too obvious. I figured
that was what Ramiris was about to suggest, so let’s just
trash that right off. The pressure to drop the idea
immediately was palpable in the air. No way I wanted to
have those frowning faces upon me.
Which left… Hmm. Come to think of it, it’s a new moon
tonight, isn’t it? A night sky, full of beautiful twinkling
stars…
“Hey, how about the Octagram? You know, like an eight-
pointed star?”
It was greeted by silence, the demon lords closing their
eyes and scrutinizing the word. Then they all reopened
them in unison.
“Settled, then. Quite lovely.”
“See? I toldja! I just knew Rimuru would pull it off for
us!”
“Impressive. I can see Veldora’s recommendation was an
apt one.”
“Hmph. Well, so be it. Perhaps you are slightly talented.”
“Dang! Just like that! Wow. Like, what was with all the
trouble we had last time anyway?”
“…Mm.”
 No negative feedback. Well, great. If anyone did voice a
complaint, I was thinking I’d throw the job over to them
instead. I don’t know why Milim’s acting like she
engineered all this, though—and that’s the question I’d
want to ask you, Deeno. What were you talking about all
those times before?
I had a lot of questions, but as a mature adult, I had the
composure to just pretend my problems didn’t exist. From
this point forward, we would be feared and revered under a
new name.

We were called the Octagram:

“Lord of Darkness” Guy Crimson (demon)

“Destroyer” Milim Nava (dragonoid)
“Labyrinth Master” Ramiris (pixie)
“Earthquake” Daggrull (giant)
“Queen of Nightmares” Valentine (vampire)
“Sleeping Ruler” Deeno (Fallen)
“Platinum Saber” Leon Cromwell (demonoid)

…and me:

“Newbie” Rimuru Tempest (slime)

We numbered eight in all, and with those eight, we had

just opened the curtain on a new era of demon lords.
The first order of business was how we distributed our
domains.
I was granted the entirety of the Great Forest of Jura,
which was a hell of a bargain, but Milim got an even better
deal—the unified domains of Frey, Carillon, and Clayman
under her rule. “Rule,” of course, in name only. Carillon and
Frey would be handling the day-to-day management,
alongside the Dragon Faithful directly serving Milim.
Clayman’s old domain was also something of a buffer
zone bordering the Eastern Empire. We’d have to
investigate how he administrated it and build defense lines
as needed. Kind of a pain in the ass; someone would need to
devote a lot of detail-oriented work to it. But that was
something for Milim and her new government to think
about. I had my own priorities to manage.
The rest of the demon lords saw no change in territorial
land. Some simply wandered around with no home to call
their own; some kept their exact location hidden; some set
up fortresses on far-flung continents. It was rare for any of
them to have precisely defined borders, so even if there was
any change, it’d be hard to decipher.
These demon lords tended not to sweat the details, no,
but they did have ways of keeping in touch. That was the
function of the ring granted to each one, as a symbol of
their post. Not only did they identify the wearer; they also
provided for interdimensional calls between demon lords,
either secret ones between two people or party lines with
multiple participants.
A pretty useful bit of magic jewelry, this so-called
Demon’s Ring. With it, I could get into contact with them
even if I was stuck inside an Unlimited Imprisonment. I’d
have to consider running Analyze and Assess on it for mass-
manufacturing purposes, not that I was about tell these
guys about that.

Clayman’s schemes, and the chaos he spread around the

forest, were a thing of the past. I had been accepted as a
new demon lord. Kazalim, Clayman’s apparent master, was
a worry to me, but the demon lord drama I dealt with was
now all taken care of.
Now, I was a full-fledged vertex on the Octagram.
 EPILOGUE

IN THE HOLY LAND

Dang, Laplace thought as he ran as fast as his legs could

take him, I thought I was gonna die!
Just as they had discussed, he had attempted to break
into the holy domain once more, the moment the Walpurgis
Council began. He was on his way to the cathedral inside
the Holy Temple, headed for the Inner Cloister where he
ran into a demon lord last time…only to run into the worst
person possible.

She was none other than the epitome of strength and

beauty—Hinata Sakaguchi, captain of the Chief Knights of
the Holy Imperial Guard and leader of the Church’s paladin
forces.
Whoaaa! What the hell? This ain’t how the promise went!
Laplace cursed his absent client. The “promise” was that
said client would lure Hinata out of there for him. He could
already hear the guy laughing and saying “Oops! Sorry,
sorry” to him. The mere thought of it irritated him gravely.
But now was no time for grousing.
“I do so detest insects like you. Burrowing into a holy
place such as this…”
The sound of Hinata’s cold voice made him feel like the
life was ebbing out of him. Without another moment’s
hesitation, Laplace decided to run—and he made it out,
alive and well.

His mission was a failure. The Inner Cloister might as

well have been on another planet. But none of it was
Laplace’s fault.
Whether the demon lord Valentine’s absent or not, if
she’s around, it doesn’t bloody matter…
“You expect me to beat that monster?” he whispered to
himself as he gave up the job. Still, he thought, I’ve been
doin’ nothin’ but run lately, huh?
He wanted to give himself a well-deserved pat on the
back for getting away from Hinata at all, but that didn’t
mean he liked it much. Given the terrible hand fate had
been dealing him lately, it didn’t seem smart to assume he’d
make it all the way—
Then he felt a rift appear, on the outskirts of the holy city,
erupting into a massive wave of magical energy.
“Whoa… For real…?”
Laplace could barely stand this any longer. That wasn’t
just a high-level magic-born—it was something even
stronger than that. Plus, Laplace was familiar with its
magical wavelength.
“You little worm! Show yourself before me, now!!”
The voice of the demon lord Valentine thundered angrily,
like a maelstrom of purging fire.
“Dammit! Now it’s a demon lord?!”
Laplace wanted to wail out loud at the completeness of
his sheer bad luck. But now wasn’t the time for that. He
attempted to run off once more—
“Hmph! You’re just as lowly as him, I see. Do you just
enjoy inching around?”
—then he stopped, sensing something in Valentine’s
choice of words.
“What do you mean?”
“Pfft! It does not involve you.” Valentine scornfully
laughed. “But very well. Just a moment ago, the demon lord
Clayman lost his life. That foolish, sniveling little maggot
fled for his life, too, just like you, mewling pathetically the
whole time.”
“What?”
“Ha-ha-ha! What, are you angry? What does it matter to
you?”
“Shut up! Are you fer real? Clayman’s dead?”
“Haaaaah-ha-ha-ha! So the maggot’s let the cat out of
the bag, has he? I thought you two might be connected. By
the will of the goddess Luminus!!”
Laplace stood there, dazed, before Valentine’s loud
laughter. Clayman’s death was too much for him to believe.
Not that he couldn’t believe it, he just didn’t want to. To
him, Clayman was a good friend and companion, if restless
and nervous.
“What’re you laughin’ about, ya pile of garbage?!”
“Who do you think you’re talking to, you—gnnngh?!”
“Dumbass! I told you not to laugh at my friend!”
Laplace’s fists never stopped swinging. They were
literally killer, both of them.
“Gnhh, don’t—don’t you start on me, maggot!!”
His face reddened with anger and humiliation, Valentine
glared at Laplace. No matter how much this insect hit him,
Ultraspeed Regeneration made it all pointless. Death was
the only way to give fools like these a lesson, as he thought
it. He didn’t even stop to wipe the blood sprays—sprays that
even now turned into a fine, crimson mist that descended
around them both:
“Die! Bloodray!!” Valentine cried.
Amid this absolute barrier of gore, a torrent of visceral
blood particles hurtled at the speed of a bullet toward—
nowhere.
“Uh-uh. You’re a dead man.”
“Wha…?!” Valentine had no idea what happened. He
bore overwhelming power, and this little maggot was toying
with him. He had tried to kill him with his most powerful of
skills, but for some reason, it never went off. Tonight was a
new moon, the period when his powers were at their lowest
point, but to a demon lord, the difference was trivial.
There could be only one explanation: Laplace was strong.
And this turned out to be correct. In Laplace’s hand, there
was something throbbing.
“…!!”
“Yep. That’s yer core, there, your heart. Can’t move,
can’t speak, am I right? That’s what I do.”
As Laplace gave him the cruel news, Valentine’s body
began to unconsciously shiver, little by little. It almost felt
like…
…Fear? Am I feeling fear?!
“You were juuuust a little late on the uptake there. But
you got it now, yeah? I’m a strong one.”
Valentine’s face turned pale, wincing in desperation. He
realized that Laplace really did have his core in his hand. All
was lost.
The expression made Laplace whoop in crazed laughter
as he crushed it with his fingers. The battle was decided in
a single moment.

Laplace didn’t stop smiling for a while after.

…Oooh, Footman’s not gonna like this…
He had massacred all the guards who spotted him.
…Ooh, and Teare’s probably gonna cry, too…
He had attempted to flee straight out of there.
…And that’s exactly why I’m laughing. Laughing at you,
Clayman. For being such a perfect idiot.
The Crazed Clown, in his estimation, had experienced
exactly the death he deserved. Laplace wasn’t angry; he
wasn’t crying; he was just laughing, in commemoration of a
friend who would no longer laugh with him.
AFTERWORD

Hey! It’s been a while! About five months since the previous
volume. Yes, it’s Volume 6 of That Time I Got Reincarnated
as a Slime, and it’s time for the traditional afterword.
This volume is the result of yet another epic battle
between my editor, Mr. I, and me over what to write and
what to cut out.

Mr. I was a lot nicer to me back in Volume 1, you know. I

remember one conversation:
“You know, if you really don’t like writing an afterword,
it’s okay if you don’t!”
“Really? Thanks a lot! I don’t know what I should write in
it. I’m just not very good at that kind of thing, so I really
appreciate you saying that!”

HOWEVER!

Flash forward to this volume:

“I’m putting the pages together, and it looks like we’re
gonna need about eight pages of afterword.”
“Huh? Eight? Isn’t that a lot?”
I mean, seriously, eight pages is a crazy amount of
afterword. You can see why I was aghast.
“Well, there’s just no getting around it, I’m afraid. With
the binding we’re using, if we cut out all the blank pages,
we won’t have space for an afterword at all.”
 “Oh, okay, let’s go with that—”
“No! What’re you talking about?! I really need an
afterword from you!”
Once upon a time, he gently whispered to me that he
didn’t need any afterword for Volume 1. Where did that
kindly Mr. I go? Sure, I look forward to the afterwords of
novel series I have a thing for, but once you’re the one
writing them, you quickly defect to the “don’t need ’em”
crowd. That’s one of my special (if distressingly awful) skills,
the ability to freely change my mind based on my current
perspective.
I tried using that superpower to have Mr. I see things my
way, but:
“Whether it means more pages or not, I’ve got to have
you write it! The ‘no afterword’ choice is not on the table!!”
With a single roar from the editorial office, the option of
skipping the afterword was crushed to oblivion. So I gave
up, and after several more rounds of negotiation, we
successfully managed to cut a couple pages.

I tell you, though, it’s starting to become a regular

exchange between us.
“I think the page count’s gonna go up a little this time,
too…”
“That’s fine! Don’t worry about it! Just keep on writing!”
And then there’s the afterword on top of that. And here I
was worried about the manuscript ballooning too much.
This volume’s already thicker than normal, and now I had to
cough up more afterword pages. Mr. I must be nuts.

By the way, when I submitted my first draft, Mr. I’s first

piece of feedback was:
“The scene with [censored] isn’t there, but what’s up
with that?”
“Ooh, well, the page count was going up too much, so I
very reluctantly had to cut it out.”
“You can’t do that, can you? That’s a really vital scene!”
“Yeah, but there’s nothing else I can cut out…”
“Seriously, man, I don’t want you worrying about cutting
your own content! Just write it! When it comes to Slime,
we’ve decided to just let you write as much as you’ve got!”
Thanks to that, despite the first draft already being the
longest manuscript in Slime history, it wound up being
expanded a good several thousand words more.
In Japan, this series is published by GC Novels in the
shinsho format, which features two separate columns of
text per page instead of one so more can be crammed in.
Thanks to that, I had already published the novel with the
highest word count in GC history, but with this volume, I am
now number-one in page count, too. “It’s a new record!”
Mr. I crowed. I have no idea what he’s aiming for with that.
But anyway, the result of all that silly back-and-forth is
Volume 6. It’s thicker than anything that came before it,
and I hope you’ve enjoyed it for a lot more than just its size.
Now let’s cover a bit of the content. As I mentioned in
Volume 2, I’m the kind of guy who peruses the afterword
first, so I just want to warn you that I’m not gonna be shy
with spoilers ahead. Proceed at your own risk!

I mentioned this topic in the afterword to Volume 5, but

number six is full of original content not in the web version,
too. It should be quite obvious from the table of contents,
but this is the volume where Rimuru is recognized as a
demon lord in name and deed and the term Octagram is
coined for the whole gang.

Volumes 5 and 6 cover everything in Chapter 4 of the

web series, the Birth of a Demon Lord arc, and given how
Birth of a Demon Lord’s events wouldn’t even fill up all of
Volume 5, you can see how almost everything in this book is
new material. The exchanges Mr. I and I had about this
were discussed in Volume 5, and I tried my best not to have
the results read like a watered-down bottle of Calpis.
Speaking of that content… Well, as always, I’m running a
large cast of characters. Perhaps readers of the web
version have a head start, but if you’re following the printed
novels alone, it might be pretty tough going. If you think
about it, though, this book has over twice the word count of
your typical paperback light novel, so maybe it’s not that
bad, proportionally speaking.

I wanted to fill it in with some illustrations, of course, so

Mitz Vah’s put in a hell of an effort for me this time, too! All
ten demon lords (What? There’s eleven? Well, that’s weird.)
show up in this volume, and I think they’re all looking really
cool. There was another heated battle between Mitz Vah
and Mr. I over how large to make the female characters’
breasts, but that wasn’t anything for me to get involved
with. I’ll have to wait for the final illustrations to see how
the results of that debate turned out.
Oops. Getting off track here. Thanks to those wonderful
illustrations, though, I think they make it a lot easier to
picture the cast in your mind.
Regarding conflicts between the web and print versions
—well, I think we’re somehow managing to keep the overall
story arc identical, you could say. Of course, you’ve got at
least one character with completely different motivations,
others whose backstory itself has changed, and if you
examine the smaller details, there are differences all over
the place. It might be harder to find unedited passages
that’re exactly as they were written on the web, maybe.
Going forward, all these changes might pile up to the
point that it turns into a completely different story. I’m
intending to stick to the same general plotline, but really, I
can’t truly know until I start writing. That’s the philosophy
of Slime, I suppose, and I hope you’ll keep reading.

I’d like to close this afterword with a few words of thanks.

First, to Mitz Vah, who provides such excellent artwork.

Seeing some of the rough drafts has made me completely
rethink my image of certain characters. It’s great to receive
this kind of stimulus! We’ve still got a bunch of new
characters to introduce, so keep up the good work.

Next, Taiki Kawakami, author of the manga version,

along with his editor, Mr. U. I can’t say enough about how
they answer all my petty requests for each chapter. I asked
him for a couple of bonus pages for this volume, too, and he
very kindly accepted. Thanks so much! (Huh? You think I
just wanted to reduce the number of afterword pages I had
to write? I have no idea what you’re talking about.)

My editor, Mr. I, has always been there to discuss things

with me. His opinions and feedback are truly a treasure. If
an editor doesn’t understand your work, I doubt there’s any
way you’ll ever convince a larger audience to like it. Keep
that feedback coming. Don’t hold back!

Thanks also go out to everyone involved with

proofreading, design, and production. I’m sure the
proofreaders in particular had a hard time checking such a
huge quantity of words. Thanks so much for your hard
work!
 Finally, I just want to tell the readers kind enough to
purchase this book that I’ll continue to strive to make That
Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime the most enjoyable read
it can possibly be.

See you in the next volume!

Thank you for buying this ebook, published by
Yen On.

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 Contents

Cover
Insert
Title Page
Copyright
Prologue: The Magic-Born’s Ruse
Chapter 1: Between Monster and Man
Chapter 2: Word from Ramiris
Chapter 3: The Eve of Battle
Interlude: The Demon Lords
Chapter 4: In the Land of Destiny
Chapter 5: Walpurgis
Chapter 6: The Octagram
Epilogue: In the Holy Land
Afterword
Yen Newsletter