They all started to walk. Radomira even took the rest of the monster egg and put it into her Storage space.
Because apparently she had one, her special powers, which made Aiden blink. After a while, they arrived too the Gates of the Dungeon as using her magic, Randomira opened it, as Anansi was sleeping on her Soldier.
Aiden looked at her as he spoke. "So, how long have you been in this Dungeon for?".
Radomira looked at him as she spoke. "Centuries, but I am sure the beautiful forest outside is still there".
She opened the door as they all walked. Once they did, they all stopped, as the smell of blood and decay filled the air. Aharreded smell was also there, as Jörmungandr and Noivern hid behind the other Inferno wolves.
The forest was on fire, swords were stabbed into the ground, bodies of humans and monsters were on the ground, blood flowers, as many as they seemed too women, who were stripped naked and in death, others were monsters cut, others were men cursed and still in Armour.
Aiden's slime body rippled uneasily, the stench of blood and rot invading even without a nose. His thoughts froze at the sight before him—once-lush trees now reduced to charred husks, the soil blackened and broken, corpses both human and monster scattered like discarded dolls.
Radomira, who had stepped forward with a bright smile of hope, froze mid-step. The color drained from her face. "No… no, this… this isn't right…" Her voice cracked as she clutched Anansi closer to her chest, trembling.
The inferno wolves growled low, their hackles rising at the lingering scent of battle and cruelty. Fenrir's eyes narrowed as he padded ahead, scanning the field. "This was no ordinary battle… this is slaughter."
Jörmungandr and Noivern whimpered softly, hiding behind the pack for comfort, while even the newborn Anansi stirred nervously against Radomira's shoulder.
Aiden stayed silent, staring at the broken blades jutting from the soil like gravestones, the twisted expressions of the fallen women, the cursed bodies of armored men who hadn't even found release in death. His voice finally echoed, cold and low.
"…Kuroinu. This reeks of Kuroinu."
Radomira flinched, tears stinging her eyes as she dropped to her knees on the blackened earth. "I… I left this world thinking I'd wake up to peace… to the garden… and instead…" She bit her lip hard, trying not to break in front of Aiden.
Aiden slithered closer, placing a hand-like tendril on her arm. "…Radomira. This isn't your fault. If anything, this is exactly why we're here now."
Her fingers clenched tight around Spindy's fur, eyes burning with fury beneath the grief. "Then we'll burn them down, Aiden. Volt, their dogs, this whole twisted army—they'll pay. Every last one of them."
Fenrir raised his head, a low rumble in his throat, his eyes glinting like embers. "Then it begins, Master. Justice, war, vengeance… whatever you choose to call it. From here on, the world changes."
The ruined forest was silent save for the rustling of dead leaves in the wind. Yet, as Radomira and Aiden stood amidst the carnage, the faintest spark of resolve lit within the darkness.
This was no longer just survival. It was the beginning of their crusade.
Aiden's slime body rippled as he gave the order. "Fenrir — you and the pack, clean up. Eat the monsters, burn the bodies. Give them a proper grave."
Fenrir's eyes met his, a single low, answering growl, and then the inferno wolves moved like living fire. They tore through the carcasses of rampaging creatures, dragging the remains into neat piles. The alpha's blue-violet flames licked the air; the wolves set the stacks alight and formed a ring of fire where the dead were consumed, leaving ash and a small, solemn glow — crude, but a ritual of sorts in a ruined world.
While the wolves worked, Radomira wandered the clearing. Her fingers brushed charred wood and torn silk until they closed over fabric. She lifted the flag: white banner, a staff motif woven in silver and blue. Aiden's mind tightened at the sight.
He reached for it and frowned. "I know this. That staff design — Emilia's. This banner belongs to her rebels."
Radomira's eyes went hard. "So she's here. The rebellion Truth mentioned… this was one of their battlefields." Her voice was quiet, like a blade folded back into its sheath. "She led these agents against Volt's army?"
Aiden nodded. He folded the banner carefully, respect in the small, precise motion. "Correct. They were fighting Volt's forces here — or at least they tried. The bodies, the fields burned, the way the women were targeted… this was Volt's doing." His tone went flat with cold fury. "They didn't just conquer — they turned conquest into ritual cruelty."
Radomira's jaw clenched. A tear flashed in her eye for a heartbeat, then vanished, replaced by calm steel. "Then we go to them. If Emilia still stands, we join. If she fell… we make sure her name doesn't die with her."
Aiden felt the old, hot promise coil tight in his chest. "We'll find them. We'll help them rebuild — and then we'll make Volt pay. Starting now."
Fenrir returned to Aiden's side, ash caught in his fur, smoke curling from his muzzle. He pressed his head under Aiden's hand in a quiet show of solidarity. The pack's howls drifted into the charred treeline — not a cry of triumph, but a vow.
Radomira tucked the banner into her storage-space with a reverent hand. "Lead the way, master," she said softly, and there was no mistaking the fierce tenderness under the words. "I'll be by your side."
Aiden rolled forward on his goopy feet, slime shimmering with new resolve. "Alright. Rebellion it is. First stop: find Emilia, scout their position, and see who's left to rally."
They moved out — goddess, slime-king, wolf pack, and three newborn monsters tucked against warm bodies — stepping from the ruin into a broken world that had no idea how quickly its balance was about to tip.
Meanwhile, in another camp, Emilia stood by the window of her command tent. Her eyelids grew heavy, the ache of sleepless nights weighing her down. She hadn't closed her eyes in days.
Beyond her window, the camp stretched out like a makeshift town—tents, torches, and tired soldiers moving about, their weary determination mirroring her own. The last raid against Volt's army had gone poorly. Too many losses, too many graves.
She exhaled softly, gaze shifting upward. Above, the faint shimmer of the barrier she had cast still glimmered in the morning sky, a fragile shield of mana keeping the Volt forces at bay. It was the only reason her rebels had not yet been completely overrun.
"Miss Solva."
Her eyes snapped open, her back straightening despite her fatigue. She turned to face one of her soldiers, forcing herself to hide the weariness dragging at her bones.
"Yes. What is it?" she asked, her voice calm though her throat felt dry.
The soldier hesitated, noticing the dark circles under her eyes. Clearing his throat, he spoke with as much formality as he could muster.
"We've managed to liberate another village from Volt's control. A stronghold has been established there. The people… they're safe, for now."
Emilia allowed herself a small, tired smile. Even one victory, no matter how small, was worth clinging to.
Emilia looked at the soldier, her tired eyes narrowing slightly. Every village freed meant both hope… and another burden to protect.
"Is this village willing to help us?" she asked, voice low but steady.
The soldier straightened and nodded. "Yes, Miss Solva. Some have already volunteered to join our ranks. The rest of the villagers are prepared to provide supplies—food, cloth, even medicine. They say they'll stand with us."
For the first time in days, Emilia felt the knot in her chest loosen. She leaned back against her chair, exhaling softly. "Good… very good. Every hand, every loaf of bread, every blade—each one brings us closer to freedom."
The soldier hesitated, then spoke again. "Miss… the people believe in you. They call you the Saintess who fights against Volt's tyranny. Some even say you're chosen by the gods."
Emilia's tired gaze flickered toward the glowing barrier above the camp. She clenched her staff tighter, forcing down the lump in her throat. Saintess, chosen one… no, I'm just a woman keeping my people alive.
But she only nodded. "Then we cannot fail them."
Emilia moved deeper into her tent, the candlelight flickering against the war map spread before her. The parchment was marred with countless black marks—the emblem of Volt's Black Dog—covering nearly every nation on the continent.
Her hand trembled slightly as she reached forward, peeling away one of those marks. In its place, she pressed down her own sigil. Just one small village reclaimed, just one light among the ocean of darkness. But it was theirs.
She lingered, staring at the map. The Princess Knights… the so-called protectors of the realm. She had once admired them, dreamed of standing shoulder-to-shoulder with them. Now she could only feel bitterness coil in her chest. They had failed. Every last one of them. The system that had been forged to strike down the former Dark Queen Olga collapsed without resistance before Volt's black banners. Instead of defending the innocent, they had been captured, broken, and turned into playthings of the Sex Empire.
Her lips pressed into a thin line as memories clawed at her—Alicia, brave and kind, taken while she obsessed over shielding her younger sister Prim. Even Celestine, the goddess reborn in mortal form, had surrendered without a fight, choosing peace through submission over bloodshed. That was the moment Emilia's faith had shattered.
She had stopped being a believer that day. "Chosen by the gods"? No. The gods had abandoned them. She was not a chosen savior. She was only a woman, one who refused to bend.
Her staff shook in her grasp as her body swayed. Exhaustion gnawed at her bones, days of sleepless vigilance dragging her down. The barrier overhead still held—but for how long, if she collapsed?
Closing her eyes, she whispered to the silence of the tent:
"…How much longer can I keep standing?"
Meanwhile in a different place, a black dog flag felt too the ground, a place was whole burn down, Volt was being eaten by inferno wolf or being burned, lighting strike then down.
Aiden slid through the smoke like a smear of shadow. The ruined field around him was a smoldering ruin of splintered shields and torn banners; the aire tasted of ash and iron. Corpses—human and not—lay in heaps. Somewhere nearby, an inferno wolf was dragging the remains of a Black Dog officer into a pyre and setting it alight; the flames spat and hissed, painting the night orange.
A man with half a helmet still clinging to his head turned and screamed when he saw the slime approach. "You'll—" his words died into a wet, ragged sound as Aiden's gelatinous form flowed over him. Predator closed, and the soldier's shriek was swallowed as information and power slid into Aiden like water into a cup.
"You said your last words?" Aiden murmured, flat and cold. "Good. People like you don't get marked graves." He had meant to sound cruel; it came out like a verdict. The Great Sage chimed in his head, cataloguing the transfer—skill icons appearing in Aiden's mind, neat and clinical. New abilities layered into his arsenal, new weaknesses catalogued. The slime exhaled, and something in his form darkened like ink spreading in water: a satisfaction that tasted nothing like triumph.
Around him Fenrir tore and dragged, the pack working with brutal, efficient grace. Ash clung to their fur, and their howls rolled over the ruined woodlands like a retribution-song. Radomira stood a little apart, wings folded, watching without lifting a hand. Her face was quiet and terrible—a goddess who had seen her garden desecrated—and in her eyes the promise of justice was a flame that would not gutter.
Aiden pulled away at last, leaving the final screams behind. He turned, and the discarded banner they'd taken earlier fluttered in the wind—Emilia's sigil pressed into his mind like a compass. A dozen small fires dotted the skyline where the Black Dogs had been routed, and beyond them, a thin line of men and wagons moved toward where a handful of tents still stood. The rebellion's footprint.
He swallowed, the new power humming through him like a second heartbeat. "Fenrir—pack, gather the little ones. We move. Find Emilia. We join her, or we make a new camp. Either way, the hunt isn't over." Fenrir answered with a low, satisfied rumble and rallied the pack; even the newborns—Jörmungandr, Anansi, and Noivern—stirred, eyes bright with newly granted purpose.
As they slid away from the burning pyres and trudged toward the thin glow of a rebel stronghold, Aiden's voice settled into a resolution. "This mess ends with Volt. Whatever it takes." Radomira folded her wings, smiled that dangerous smile, and linked her aura to his—there was no ceremony, only an agreement made in the smoking dark. Together they walked into what remained of the world, and the night seemed to lean in and listen.
Epilogue
Truth's laughter rattled the void like broken bells, echoing in ways that didn't make sense—half mocking, half genuine delight. Across from him, lounging on a throne that was equal parts scales and smoke, the Dragon of Rebirth chuckled low, like distant thunder.
The Dragon leaned forward, resting his chin on one clawed fist, eyes fixed on the little "screen" of Aiden's journey playing out in the void. "So… things are finally getting interesting." His tail swished, knocking over a constellation like it was a pile of marbles.
Truth arched a brow (or the closest thing he had to one, which was more like a concept of smugness given form). "Oh? Don't tell me you're actually enjoying this, brother. Since when do you care about soap opera drama with slime boys, wolf packs, and reincarnated girlfriends?"
The Dragon gave him a dry look. "I don't. But I do enjoy when arrogant fools get what they deserve. And Volt? That man's karma bill could buy an entire multiverse. Watching him get chewed apart by wolves… poetic."
Truth clapped slowly, each clap sparking a tiny galaxy into existence before it popped like a balloon. "Bravo. The almighty Dragon of Rebirth has become a critic. Next thing I know you'll be handing out scorecards—'8 out of 10 on the monologue, but points lost for not being shirtless enough.'"
The Dragon snorted, smoke curling from his nostrils. "Don't tempt me. I could easily host a reality show with these reincarnators. 'Next on Survivor: Hentai World Edition—who will betray who, and which one gets eaten first?'"
Truth tilted his head back and howled with laughter, kicking his feet like a child on a swing. "Hahahaha! Careful, brother, the author might actually write that spin-off if you say it too loud."
They both paused, as if aware of invisible eyes watching from beyond the page. The Dragon squinted suspiciously. "...Wait. Did you just break the fourth wall again?"
Truth smirked. "Of course. That's my job."
The void rippled with their shared laughter, and somewhere far below, Aiden sneezed in his sleep.
To be continued
Hope people like this ch and give me power stones, this is the last Ch of this week, see you all next week