It was a vast chamber with a marvelous design, the floor covered by a lush carpet that must have taken several years for a team of artisans to weave.
The table in the middle featured wood carved from a fragrant tree, providing a pleasant, woody scent. It was large, round, and could comfortably seat about a dozen people, but despite the size of the room, only three chairs were placed around it. They were the pinnacle of luxury, of course, the kind that even the most sophisticated nobility would have trouble acquiring.
One wall displayed a mural of a fantastic scene, but was it really a mural? The elegant and deliberate art of the otherworldly creatures almost made it seem like they moved slightly in their poses from time to time. It was as if they could leap from the wall and manifest in this world at any moment. Which made sense—it was all the work of Bismarck, one of the great artists of the realms controlled by the Demon Lord. He specialized in creating so-called Artifacts, visual works of art that were so realistic, as if his brush literally trapped those mythical beasts in a living state on the wall.
Selling even one of the items that adorned this room would allow someone to live like nobility for about a decade. That was the quality instilled in every piece, enough to overwhelm anyone who entered the chamber. But even so, the type of person visiting this place knew the power of money; they had enough to buy any high-quality magical weapon they desired or hire the best mercenaries in the country. They amused themselves with the goods they possessed, and a room like this meant less to impress and more to rob the visitor of any desire to resist the will of their host.
That was the role of this chamber, but the guests gathered in the space at times were not the type to be disturbed by such public displays of wealth.
This room belonged to a handsome man. He was slim, slender, and his eyes exuded intelligence, even when they suggested he was quite nervous. Even so, Demon Lord Clayman had the willpower to make almost anyone follow his orders.
His eyes slid across the room before he gave a satisfied nod and sat in one of the provided chairs. There was a mask on the table with a smile molded onto it; he picked it up, ran his hand over it fondly, and carefully placed it in his pocket. Every movement betrayed the methodical approach he took to all aspects of his life.
He knew his guests would arrive soon. Demon Lords, on the same level as him. And Clayman's goal today was to control these obstinate creatures, showing them a good time to leave them under his total control. He had chosen an ostentatious-looking white suit for the occasion and was now checking the time on his pocket watch.
As soon as he thought the appointed hour was near, he suddenly realized someone was occupying another seat.
"Clayman. Everything going well with Gelmud?"
He was sitting with his legs crossed while calmly reclining his large, muscular body back in his seat and casually engaging Clayman. But every movement of his was as flexible and elegant as Clayman's. It wasn't muscle-bound foolishness; he presented the air of a battle-proven military hero. His formal clothing was obviously a bit worn, but it didn't make him look unkempt. In fact, it emphasized his wild side, building an atmosphere that made someone hesitate more than a little to approach him.
His unrefined way of speaking might seem like a bad match for that, but it only served to make the man even more charming. His short, well-groomed blond hair, meanwhile, matched perfectly with the masculine contours of his face. His sharp, hawk-like eyes were digging into Clayman; he was deeply focused, perhaps out of distrust for his fellow demon.
"Karion?" Clayman asked. "You arrived early, huh? I was planning to inform you about that today, actually. Certainly didn't expect you to arrive first."
The man named Karion shrugged.
"No need for that treatment now. I'm sure our little lady is busy with her own preparations...." He said with a smile.
Karion was, in fact, a Demon Lord, perhaps more often called the Beast Master, thanks to being king and leader of the lycanthrope race.
"Heh. 'Lady' now, is it? Hmm... Yes, perhaps so. Ah, but it's better not to speak more of her for now. After all..."
"She's quite sensitive to people badmouthing her, yes."
The two exchanged glances, sharing a light laugh. As soon as they stopped, the chamber door was suddenly opened. A single young woman stood there, looking around the room for a moment before realizing only Clayman and Karion were there.
"Were you just spreading rumors about me?"
She was young, very young, oddly so for someone attending a summit like this. Fourteen or fifteen, perhaps, and while appearances often deceived people born of magic like her, she seemed terribly out of place.
There was a strap on her right shoulder, shaped like a dragon's claw. But not exactly—it was floating in the air, leaving a small gap between it and her body. Her body was, for the most part, scantily clad, just a thong and a pair of thin fabric undergarments, along with a chest piece to cover the faintest suggestion of a pair of still-developing breasts. Whether to facilitate movement or for some other purpose, it exposed as much skin as a typical swimsuit.
Her large, determined eyes shone blue, even as they revealed a bit of the immature youth still in her. The strength in them proved to the other two that this was not a woman to be trifled with. Her platinum-pink hair was tied into two braids on each side of her head, and there was a dominant smile on her face. Thrusting out her modest chest, she looked at the Demon Lords with whom she shared the chamber.
"Hey, Milim!" Karion said with a warm laugh. "No, no rumors. You're usually so punctual with these things, is all. We were worried about you!"
"Exactly, Milim," added Clayman, as he elegantly brought a teacup to his lips: "Of course, I would never worry about you."
The two were accustomed to her, enough to know that making up bald-faced excuses was useless. That would only irritate Milim further. Instead, they strove to relax their approach, ensuring they didn't poke her any more. The two shared a slight sense of nervousness with each other about her, and nervousness was clearly what it was.
There was a reason for that: despite her appearance, Milim was powerful. That sweet young demon, Milim Nava, was a member of the Dragonoid race, someone who possessed the simple but effective nickname of Destroyer.
With an irritated sniff, she gave Karion, then Clayman, a dirty look.
"Well, so be it," she murmured when neither reacted. In the next moment, she entered the chamber, and someone was behind her. A harpy, with large, eagle-like wings.
"Well, well, Milim," Clayman admonished, his eyebrows arched downward: "I believe I made it clear that no one besides Demon Lords is allowed here. I'm afraid I cannot allow your attendant to accompany you inside. Even for you, there are certain rules that need to be..."
"It's good to see you again, Clayman," came the dispassionate response. "I am not Milim's attendant. I'm not here because I want to be, but I believe there's no issue with me being present at this meeting."
The harpy stood firm, not at all intimidated by the powerful beings before her. She looked like a graceful woman, but anyone near her immediately picked up on the annoyingly substantial aura she exuded at all times.
She was, after all, a Demon Lord.
"Wow, what are you doing here, Frey? I thought you were busy...."
Frey, the Sky Queen, ruler of the harpy race. Just like Clayman, Karion, and Milim, she was one of the pillars of strength that supported the entire world they lived in.
"Hello, Karion. You're right. I had declined the invitation because I was busy, but Milim... well, you know..."
"Ha-ha-ha-ha! Oh, what's the big deal? She was acting moody and irritated about something, so I brought her along to vent. You don't have any problem with that, Clayman?"
"No, not if that's the case..."
That was the Milim that Clayman knew—eternally pushing her own desires onto others. But there was no reason to challenge her openly. In fact, the optimist in him saw this as something to welcome. After he told everyone about how his efforts with Gelmud were a complete failure, he was sure Milim would suddenly become a little less cheerful. Frey should help smooth things over a bit when he had to drop the bomb.
So Clayman began planning a new strategy.
"Well? Can we have another chair for Frey, please?"
Clayman nodded at Milim's order. With a flick of his finger, a chair materialized where there had been none before, a perfect match for the surroundings, as if it had always been there and everyone simply hadn't noticed. Milim and Frey sat down, sensing nothing unusual about it.
There were four Demon Lords gathered around the table. Now it was time for Clayman, the puppet master himself, to flex his muscles a bit. He had a gift for controlling people, making them do what he wanted, and now there was the hint of a smile on his face as he prepared to begin speaking.
The Demon Lord summit had begun.
Clayman chose to start things off with a clear and frank summary of events. Gelmud was dead, killed by someone, and his plan had failed.
"That bastard wanted things to move too fast for his own safety, huh?
"Even with Veldora gone, is there really any need to push this operation forward?"
Recently, a cataclysm had shaken the entire world.
It was the only way to describe the reaction when the disappearance of the Storm Dragon Veldora was confirmed. It wasn't every day that an S-rank monster simply vanished without a trace.
Three hundred years of penance did nothing to affect the dragon's ranking as a natural disaster-level threat. Just because he disappeared didn't mean he couldn't be reborn somewhere, posing a new threat in short order.
But twenty days after the initial report of his disappearance, the Western Holy Church issued a report that, as far as their investigations could tell, Veldora, the Storm Dragon, no longer existed and showed no signs of existing anytime soon.
The news spread first in the area around the Jura Forest, a wide plain dotted with a large number of smaller countries. After Veldora's fate was widely publicized, each of them rose up, the proverbial hornet's nest stirred into action. Every king and every minister in all the nations held emergency meetings day after day, collecting information and debating what to do next.
And in the midst of that, Clayman had suggested Gelmud's plan to them.
"You can say that, Karion, but chaos would probably result, sooner or later, with Veldora, the supreme ruler of the forest, out of the picture. If a new and promising seedling were to be plucked from the ground, wouldn't it be far more satisfying for all of us if we were the ones controlling that fate?"
That made sense to the large man. With all the assorted influential races calling the forest home, there was never a guarantee that their own pawns would win the game.
They also knew that actively cultivating an Orc Lord gave them the greatest possibility of victory.
Another among them, however, was more doubtful.
"What!? So what happened to turning the Orc Lord into a Demon Lord next?"
"What I'm saying, Milim, is that we're back to the drawing board. We needed Gelmud to control the Orc Lord, and now he's dead...."
It hurt Clayman a lot to abandon that strategy. But as long as no one noticed the connection between him and Gelmud, he'd never hear about it later. At this point, the idea of creating a new plan to deal with the Orc Lord or the magic-born that had survived seemed far more interesting to him. And if he could interest the other Demon Lords, he could use that to add another effective card or two to his hand.
Karion remained silent, eyes closed, as he listened. Clayman knew he must have his opinions, but apparently he was ready to hear the whole story before making a final judgment. He was much more careful with these matters than the irritable Milim.
And in the end, much more prudent.
"But that's so boring! And here I thought we'd have a new toy to play with soon. And remember all that bragging Gelmud gave us once upon a time? Too bad he turned into such a profound idiot, isn't it!?" Milim seemed very upset about this....
"Now, now, Milim, no need for so much anger. Clayman hasn't finished his story yet. Why not wait until then before yelling at him?" Said Frey with a sigh...
Just as Clayman expected, the bad news was enough to make Milim boil over. He expected to spend a lot of effort calming her down from now on, but Frey seemed to be doing a good job of it. It was a relief.
Thank heavens she brought Frey along with her, he thought, keeping a cheerful smile the whole time. And he meant it. As the Destroyer nickname implied, once Milim went on a violent rampage, there was no holding her back. It would require Clayman to expend all his energies in response, and at that point, any dream he had of manipulating these Demon Lords without a fight would be lost. Milim's behavior was easy to predict, at least, which meant he could guide her. But to Clayman, she was a double-edged knife. Guide her in the wrong direction, and he knew he'd face the brunt of the consequences.
At least Milim bringing her own tranquilizer in the form of Frey should make things much smoother for him. Plus, she not only had no hand (or wing) in this operation, but seemed to have no interest in it. That was key. Any other Demon Lord would demand a detailed summary of the plan, from start to finish. Frey, meanwhile, was much more cooperative.
"Milim," said Clayman: "I feel Frey is correct. Take a look at these first."
He picked up four spherical crystals, a strange light burning in his eyes. His lips curled into a smile, anticipating how this would surprise his fellow Demon Lords. Then he projected images onto all four spheres, carefully observing their reactions. Just as he thought, all of them were captivated by what they saw. The final crystal, in particular, showing Gelmud's perspective, captured their complete attention.
"Indeed, impressive, Gelmud, leaving behind these sophisticated trinkets for us!" Milim shouted cheerfully, her voice echoing through the room. The images left no clues about the Orc Lord's final fate, but the way they suddenly cut off indicated to everyone that Gelmud was gone.
"All right. So that means Gelmud screwed up and got himself killed, right? As you said. But you didn't tell us about these magic-born on purpose, did you?"
Clayman nodded at Karion's observation.
"Fascinating, isn't it? And with Gelmud dead, there's no telling what might come next. But with all these high-level members of the magic-born races in one place, I feel it's safe to say the Orc Lord met his end as well. However—"
"However," interrupted Frey, "if he survived, he fully evolved into a Demon Lord, right?"
She took the words right out of his mouth. Clayman knew she didn't know the plan, but she was smart enough to guess most of it.
"Well done, Frey... I must be careful with you, unlike these two simplistic warriors."
He eyed Frey carefully, narrowing his eyes a bit. She acted aloof, unaffected, but she was looking at one crystal sphere, as if thinking about something. He didn't know what was going through her mind, but it was clear she was no longer irritated with Milim for forcing her to come along.
This is a threat... but Frey seems like she has her own issues to consider. She acted completely disinterested a moment ago, but now...
Now Frey was starting to interest him. As for their positions, Clayman was sure she was more of a tactical leader than a battlefield fighter. Controlling her would be far from simple. She was too smart to be fooled so easily. But if whatever was bothering her could be used to exploit some weakness... A new, sinister plan silently unfolded in the back of his mind.
"Okay, so now what? You want one of us to go down and take a look?"
"Ha-ha-ha-ha! First come, first served, right?"
"First come, first served, Milim?" Clayman interrupted. Figuring out what to do with the magic-born had to come first. He turned his thoughts elsewhere: "I doubt you'd be satisfied with simply observing the scene, huh? Everyone, calm down for a moment. We're dealing with the Jura Forest, a strictly forbidden region."
"Ah? What's the problem? It's not like we're doing anything there. You just want to jump in and scout any magic-born that looks decent enough to join our team, right? Though who knows what kind of unfortunate accident might happen to whoever refuses. Ha-ha-ha-ha!"
"There's no way around it, Karion. If what I've heard from all of you is true, your goal was to create a new Demon Lord you could use as a loyal pawn, yes? And if you failed once, why not recognize one of those magic-born as a Demon Lord and have him serve us?
"Wow, Frey! You saw right through our scheme!"
She demystified the core of Clayman and his companions' plan: to give birth to a demon that was putty in their hands. And Milim just went and admitted it. Now Frey would think she was right, and that was fine. It was still within what Clayman expected. If Frey was part of today's summit, he had already assumed this would happen. No point hiding things, if Milim was totally incapable of subterfuge.
"But we need to investigate, yes," he ventured. "Not to speak for Karion, but there's no guarantee they'll cooperate with us. If the Orc Lord won, however, he might be out of control now that his father Gelmud is gone."
He wanted to prevent the other Demon Lords from traveling there before he was ready. Now, he watched them reflect on this.
An investigation seemed necessary. Whether the Orc Lord or the other magic-born, the side that won the battle would now be more powerful than ever. It would be good if the Demon Lords could make them swear loyalty, but losing any chance with an unpleasant encounter was out of the question.
They needed to assume that, at least, something on a sub-Demon Lord level of strength had now been born. If they were to mount the council to ensure they dominated it, that was a difficult task even for them. It would give them an advantage over the other demonic rulers of the land, but they also had to consider the substantial consequences if it didn't work out. And if whoever survived the fight decided to call themselves "Demon Lord," there would be no choice but to step in and punish that insolence. But now wasn't the time for that.
The four Demon Lords exchanged glances, trying to read each other's minds.
. . . . .
Karion, the Beast Master, had a good feeling about this.
He had spent several centuries ruling the lycanthrope race, waging several major battles that were good enough to expand his influence. That performance earned him the endorsements of the cursed Demon Lord, securing his own promotion to the Demon Lord position. Leon, the one who defeated the Cursed Lord, certainly had some objections about it, but he seemed to harbor no anger or dislike toward the appointment. Survival of the fittest was the only hard rule here, and it had just been applied once again. Leon had no right to protest.
Besides, Leon was more than strong enough. Even after attaining his current position, he never stopped honing his skills. Karion understood that Leon also had several new and powerful allies by his side. Even as a newcomer to this echelon, there was no underestimating what this relatively recent Demon Lord could do.
Karion liked power and powerful people. That's why he accepted Leon so readily. But that didn't mean he remained idle while Leon gained more and more strength. As a Demon Lord, he felt the obligation to retain an ample supply for himself. Enough so that he wouldn't have to submit to anyone else. Enough to protect the realm he controlled and crush anyone who dared oppose him.
This was less about Karion being nervous about his position and more about him following his natural instincts to increase his strength. But the end result was the same. It made him a force to be reckoned with. Someone who constantly sought to gain more strength, never satisfied with what he had now. And now, Karion had a very attractive offer thrown in front of him.
He accepted Clayman's invitation to the summit, figuring it would be a good way to kill some time. Three Demon Lords working in collusion could attest to a new Demon Lord anytime they wanted, and if that new lord was willing to do all their bidding, that would give them a decisive advantage over any other Demon Lord out there.
So Karion was more than willing to follow Clayman's lead. There were several reasons for this, but the main one was the absence of any rule stating that Demon Lords needed to be friends. There were always disputes among them, and everyone knew that Clayman and Leon were particularly deep. It was certain they constantly plotted to undermine each other, striving not to leave any evidence behind. Their public faces were one thing, but beneath the surface, they were constantly trying to check each other's moves.
Thus, Karion was sure there was no need to worry about Clayman backstabbing. Whether he could trust him was another matter, but in terms of using each other for mutual benefit, he thought they had a good deal. Clayman wasn't dumb enough to lay hands on a cooperative Demon Lord, and the same could be said for Karion.
As for the other two in the chamber? Karion didn't see much to worry about. Frey, queen of the harpies, probably wasn't interested. She had to be dragged here by Milim, and she wasn't even part of this plan from the start.
Besides, the harpies were unique. Their society was completely classist, with winged creatures at the top and everyone else below. No matter how powerful a high-level magic-born was, if they didn't have wings, they couldn't expect preferential treatment there.
It seemed there was a winged figure among the magic-born in the crystals... but Karion didn't think that would be enough to make Frey act. Besides, he thought, if it's just one, Frey can have all that interests me. Assuming it's still alive. There were other fish to fry, other magic-born to lure. They didn't know what had happened to the Orc Lord, but Karion was sure he had lost; hell, if Frey wanted one of those guys, she could have them.
That just left Milim. Karion thought about it for a moment. In terms of personal interests, Clayman probably considered her an enemy, but what about Milim? She had a short fuse and you could read her like a book, but she was as cunning as any other Demon Lord. But more than that, she was always true to her own desires. She let her emotions carry her, making decisions practically on a whim. In a way, it was hard to predict her next step.
Karion owed her, perhaps, for recommending him to the Demon Lord post. But, he thought as he looked at her, I don't know. I just can't read her.
Milim seemed full of confidence, looking with total admiration at one of the crystal spheres. She was undoubtedly the Demon Lord most interested in this tale. Apparently, it was Gelmud, the magic-born, who approached Clayman with the idea of creating a new Demon Lord; Karion didn't know if that was true, but it didn't matter.
Basically, if something sparked his curiosity, he jumped at it, and Milim was probably the same. She had been alive for a long time and hated boredom. If an attractive prospect arose, she would eagerly pursue it, not caring if the story was true or not. Besides, her power was the real thing, enough to allow her to avoid a certain level of countermeasures simply by powering through them.
"Destroyer" was right; as a Demon Lord, Milim was the embodiment of pure strength, almost unfairly so. And because of that, as simplistic as she was, her moves were still hard to read. It was obvious she wanted to investigate the scene. The strengths of her opponents and the danger involved weren't big deals to her. If whoever survived that battle won her heart, she'd recommend them as a new Demon Lord; and if they didn't, she'd kill them. But she couldn't do that this time. All this was unfolding in an inconvenient location.
Simply entering the Jura Forest presented political problems. Even Milim would have trouble satisfying her curiosity if all the other Demon Lords in the world were against it. A full investigation would come first.
Karion knew Milim didn't give a damn about increasing her own powers. The question was what Clayman would gain from this. In his eyes, Clayman used his gentlemanly behavior to hide his true intentions all the time. It was hard to tell what he was thinking and even harder to trust him completely.
This would be a battle of wits, and in that sense, Milim was easily fooled into being a major concern. Frey would follow what Milim did, so there was no point worrying about her. That just left Clayman. It was the natural conclusion for Karion to make.
He licked his lips as he thought about his strategy. Now, how to start this...
. . . . .
On the other hand, the unexpected guest at Clayman's summit, Frey, the queen of the harpies, was already tired of it. It wasn't a conference she had any reason to attend. Milim had just forced her for some inscrutable reason.
"Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha! You need to relax a little!" she said, not bothering to ask what Frey thought about it, let alone the other Demon Lords.
Frey knew there was no reason to worry about it, since it wasn't like Milim would do it. But she didn't like how she was silently appointed as the Demon Lord to clean up the mess that followed wherever Milim went.
Besides, the timing couldn't have been worse. One of the harpy priestesses had just prophesied the resurgence of a calamity from the past. A prophecy by name, perhaps, but it had already been confirmed. Reading the flow of magics and the twists and distortions of space, she confirmed the arrival—the arrival of the harpies' natural enemy. The rebirth of Charybdis, the calamity-level monster that a long-lost hero had sealed in ancient times.
Charybdis was a great magical creature that ruled the skies in antiquity, one that could summon megalodon shark-like creatures to carry out its orders and complete its tyranny. It would die and be reborn in a cycle every few centuries, and Frey had been a Demon Lord for only a short time when it resurrected, destroying a hefty chunk of her territory. In the end, thanks to the "hero" who wanted to put a final end to the cycle, Charybdis was taken to a locked region of space, somewhere within the Jura Forest... and now that seal was about to unravel.
Having a hero's seal unravel like that was disturbing enough, but Frey couldn't help thinking that Veldora's disappearance was closely related. Charybdis was a creature different from the norm, the so-called "crystallization" of evil thoughts. A kind of spiritual form created from a cloud of magical energies that sought to sow the seeds of destruction.
As the legend went, it could resurrect itself temporarily within a corpse whenever a major decline occurred in the land—or so the legends happened. In other words, it needed a bodily receptacle to be reborn...
Ugh, this is so annoying. Spreading chaos across the Jura Forest and using it to give birth to a new Demon Lord? If I knew about this, I'd have put a stop to it before it happened...
She didn't know what caused it, but Frey concluded that the conspiracy Milim had cooked up with the others was a primary factor in it. It irritated her endlessly, thinking about it, but could she have stopped Milim even if she tried? It wasn't easy to answer, and there was no reason to dwell on that issue.
Frey had to respond. Even a megalodon was an A- rank in terms of the danger it presented. The Charybdis it served was on a completely different level. It was far beyond what an A rank could express, a force truly worthy of being called a calamity. Even human nations assigned it an S rank, deeming it equivalent to a Demon Lord. It had no mind of its own, simply acting on its instincts, and that was really the only reason it wasn't called a Demon Lord.
And fine, maybe these were mere humans assigning those ranks, but it still bothered Frey to be placed on the same rung of the ladder as that thing. But there was a reason for that rank. Those "instincts" were painful. It floated freely through the sky, randomly killing anything that caught its eye. Whenever it got hungry, it attacked a city and passed through, consuming humans and monsters alike. It was a threat on a level beyond what any Orc Lord could present.
The harpies were the rulers of the skies, and Frey had enough strength to be called the Sky Queen. Her magic was a force to be reckoned with, and her aerial combat skills were excellent. She was proud of never having lost to any land-based enemy.
Combining those skills with [Magic Interference], a skill unique to her race, she had the ability to nullify any flight-based magic on the battlefield. That alone meant any enemy that didn't fly with physical wings would immediately plummet to their death. Even that might not be enough to kill a high-level monster, of course, but for a human, the chances of survival were very slim. Even if someone did, they only had so many ways to attack a target high in the sky. Meanwhile, she could rain attacks down on those defenseless ants below, an obvious tactical advantage.
Anything that couldn't fly was no threat to her. Except Charybdis.
It was enormous, dozens of meters in diameter, and [Magic Interference] didn't work. In other words, Magic Interference was an intrinsic skill to it, just like the harpies. The race's flight abilities gave them an insurmountable advantage in battle; losing that advantage was a revealing blow. It made sense that the harpies saw Charybdis as their natural enemy.
Of course, simply sitting quietly and praying that this threat never greeted them irritated Frey's pride as a Demon Lord. She wanted to do something about it, but attempting a full-frontal total assault would result in unacceptably heavy casualties. That was what bothered her, and that was why she came to this summit in such an unpleasant mood. If it weren't for this resurrection, maybe she'd be a little eager about the new Demon Lord plan, but...
She noticed a winged figure in the crystal spheres. That made her think of the possibility that the magic-born had survived and become more powerful, but she quickly dismissed it. Having one more magic-born means little, she thought. We have no idea how powerful it is in battle. A high-level magic-born has no chance against a Demon Lord-class enemy. Even if it transformed into a sub-Demon Lord, there's no guarantee it'll be favorable to her advances.
"What a pain. This would be so much easier if I could fight without all this... stuff holding me back..."
Frey let out a dispirited sigh. As a Demon Lord, she could no longer personally lead her armies into battle as queen. She had the responsibility to keep her land and her people safe, and that meant more than simply racking up battlefield victories. No matter the sacrifice involved, Frey was strictly forbidden from participating in a battle. Only when victory was guaranteed could she take center stage.
There was only one sure method of defeating Charybdis. It was the first thing she thought of after receiving the dreaded prophecy.
But this?
Frey glanced at Milim.
She was gazing eagerly at a sphere, this Demon Lord on a level so different from the towers of strength around her. Karion and Clayman don't know what she's like. They're fooled by the youthful exterior into misreading her true nature. And while she was technically a Demon Lord like them, Milim was inherently different.
Milim Nava was special. Not like Frey and the other newcomers. She was one of the oldest Demon Lords in the world, and she was of the Dragonoid race. Born of dragons. What made her a special S-class. The name "Destroyer" wasn't just for show; it was said she literally destroyed a kingdom single-handedly in the past.
She could also fly, using her own wings that she normally kept tucked away. Her body was naturally strong, not by magic, and her battle abilities were almost unfair. Something like [Magic Interference] would never work on her. Milim was as much an enemy to Frey as Charybdis, and once again she had dragged her into something she didn't want to be part of.
Frey simply couldn't challenge her.
The whole summit was a distraction as she racked her brain for some way to deal with Charybdis. She provided some empty observations along the way, hoping the conference would end soon.
But at the same time, she had another thought: if Milim could work with her, would that be enough to defeat Charybdis? She was impervious to [Magic Interference], after all.
But it wouldn't be easy. The Demon Lords were hardly one big happy family. You couldn't just walk up to one and ask for a favor like that. They were more concerned with using and abusing each other than asking nicely. They say the rich are smart enough not to get into street fights, and while that didn't exactly describe them, they couldn't be openly hostile to each other. It would just give space where the other Demon Lords could drive a wedge. It wasn't worth the risk, and it might even provide that moment of weakness that would lead to their destruction. That was the whole reason the Demon Lords signed non-aggression pacts with each other in the first place.
Under these circumstances, there was no way to ask a colleague to kill a Demon Lord-class monster for her. And it wasn't realistic to expect Milim to agree to that. There was never any telling where her own desires lay. There was a nation of people who worshiped her as the daughter of a dragon, and she granted it her "divine" protection. It was a peaceful place, abundant and deathly boring. They had no military power, but Milim provided all the power they needed; no nation was bold enough to challenge a realm under Milim's direct protection.
In other words, Milim already had everything: power, riches, glory. She had no interest in conquering new lands, no motivation to forge alliances with other nations.
What Milim wanted more than anything was something to make the boredom disappear. And Frey had no idea what that might be. But look at her now, her attention fully captured by what she saw in the sphere.
Maybe she could take advantage of this.
Maybe she could move Milim after all.
No. More than that. She had to take advantage of this. Charybdis needs to be out of the picture.
She took a deep breath, her decision finally made.
. . . . .
With a polite smile, Clayman observed the three Demon Lords before him.
Clayman was the one who directed Gelmud throughout the operation. If that became public knowledge, it wouldn't be very good news for his position, but that wasn't a concern now. The moment Gelmud took his last breath, all traces of evidence vanished with him.
Karion had suspicions, perhaps, but he wasn't one to pursue them verbally. He was safe. Frey provided other concerns, but without evidence in hand, he could talk his way out of what she said.
This was an attractive offer for the other Demon Lords; besides, Clayman was hardly the only one at fault here. The scheme didn't work, but it wasn't like anyone was terribly hurt as a result.
Now wasn't the time to think about the past. Instead, Clayman focused on a new plan. Some way to investigate who survived, and find a way to use them. Was that the best thing for him? It gave him pause.
Fortunately, the other Demon Lords were showing clear interest. For Clayman, the fate of the surviving magic-born really didn't matter much. If they fulfilled their potential as bait to lure the other Demon Lords, that's all he needed. Certainly, if there was a sub-Demon Lord among them, recruiting the lucky bum would be the greatest benefit to his own forces. But if strength was all he wanted, Clayman had other means for that. He had money to hire any mercenary he wanted.
A full Demon Lord who faithfully did what he wanted was one thing, but your common high-level magic-born? Clayman didn't need them. Thus, putting his own priorities on the scale, he decided to shift his mission. He wanted Milim and Karion to owe him a favor, and he wanted them to trust him. Besides, he wanted their support in case something happened later.
Or so he thought. But...
Milim and Karion respect his strength, as imagined. They bit the bait eagerly. But Frey is proving to be a wild card. She seems worried about something; maybe it's a weakness he can grasp. It might be interesting to examine that.....
Clayman had to laugh at the unexpected results. He expected to put Milim and Karion on his side, but now, perhaps, he could take advantage of a weakness on Frey's part. Having total dominion over even one Demon Lord would be a wonderful consolation prize after losing the Orc Lord.
The Demon Lords were cunning and observant people. They knew that Milim and Karion had the simplest personalities of their kind. But the two were also talented fighters. While most found it prudent to hide the full extent of their powers, these two never hesitated to display it.
Given their battle-oriented specializations, earning their trust was never a bad idea. And having three guaranteed votes (counting his) at Walpurgis, the grand meeting where all Demon Lords attended, was huge. Adding Frey to the equation meant Clayman could make almost any vote, any proposition, go the way he wanted.
"Heh-heh... Excellent. Not exactly my original plan, but this is almost ideal. It would have been interesting to have an Orc Lord serving as my puppet Demon Lord... but this works too."
And I can even ask Frey to join...
Clayman had to suppress the laughter bubbling in his throat. It was time to show his skills as the Puppet Master. Frey would come first; then Milim and Karion. Then, Walpurgis would be like a personal court for him. Everything in the world could be his, indeed. It was no longer an idle dream.
The Jura Forest was forbidden territory. No Demon Lord was allowed to send an expedition inside. He'd need to bring in another unaffiliated high-level magic-born, like Gelmud, and he'd have to ensure that agent wasn't aware Clayman was pulling the strings. It would be a delicate operation. But this kind of under-the-table exchange was Clayman's specialty, something Milim and Karion weren't suited for. That's why he was the one who "handled" Gelmud in his last scheme.
And it would be exactly the same this time. Milim seemed to have an extraordinary interest in all this, which was a concern, but probably Clayman would handle the expedition anyway. The situation inside Jura was totally unknown, so he imagined his role would be a foregone conclusion.
In fact, I could have this person spy before Milim and Karion enter the forest. Now this is getting interesting...
Clayman smiled a little as he imagined it. He knew he shouldn't be too greedy. Depending on how things went, it wasn't impossible. Finding Frey's weakness was priority one, and if possible, he wanted to lead the Jura Forest expedition.
With the objectives clear in his mind, he began to assess the rest of the table.
. . . . .
Milim Nava, the Demon Lord, whose platinum-pink braids suited her perfectly, was lost in thought.
If she left things to these idiots, she knew they'd let her new toy go to waste. They were all still newborn novices; they had no way of seeing how things really were. She was kind enough and smart enough to take the lead here.
Thanks to her easy comfort as one of the oldest Demon Lords, Milim found herself assuming a leadership role for the younger generations of rulers, who had only a few centuries of experience. It was ironic to think that the youngest among them were also the most cunning, but it was the undeniable truth.
After a moment of reflection, Milim opened her mouth and displayed all her majesty as the only dragonoid at the table and the most maddened of the Demon Lords.
"Right!" She began, practically bursting with anticipation. "In that case, I'm heading out now and negotiating with whoever survived!"
The Demon Lords stared at her in silence. Which made sense. With the current pact covering the Jura Forest, there was no way to enter without first making certain arrangements. Simply stepping in, as Milim suggested, was unthinkable.
"Hmm, Milim... We can't do that, can we? We have that non-aggression agreement."
"Yeah! Where did that idea come from?"
"Milim," Clayman interrupted: "Please take a moment to calm down. I'll send a full expeditionary force to handle this, and I promise it won't take long to wait...."
She laughed at all of them.
To the Demon Lords who knew Milim, she was considered someone with muscles all the way to her brain. A meathead, in other words. But the truth lay elsewhere. She was actually extremely intelligent, and it was just her short fuse that made people think otherwise.
She had all the ability to discern right from wrong and process issues strategically, something that often made her jump straight into action, making her seem impossibly reckless. She was one of the foremost geniuses among them, in fact, but unfortunately, very few people noticed that. In fact, they thought she was the simplest and most hot-tempered.
Totally ignorant of all this, Milim confidently thrust her chest forward and revealed her own thoughts to the world.
"Who cares about that non-aggression pact?" She said, with an impressive smile on her face. "We should just abolish that thing now. We have four Demon Lords here, so it's easy, right?"
The rest seemed lost. They chewed on her words, as if the curtains had just been pulled from their eyes. Yes. This was realistically possible. They tried to deny it, but couldn't find anything to refute her. In that moment, all the schemes and plans in their minds vanished into dust.
Of course, for Karion, trying to think of a reason to join the expedition, this was a gift from heaven. It meant he could send his own forces into the forest without worrying about hiding them. Very easy.
"Makes sense," he agreed. "With our signatures, we could notify that the contract is null and void. It should be accepted, as long as no one objects to it. I'm on board with the idea."
"I'm with you on that," said Frey. "My territory borders the forest, and being forbidden from entering it has never been exactly convenient for us."
For her, agreeing with Milim was the simplest way to put the old Demon Lord on her side. The abundant feeding areas within the Jura Forest also provided good hunting for her own daughters. The forest guards might have issues, but they could worry about that when it happened.
Milim was beaming at her two allies when Clayman spoke.
"Would it be that easy, you think? Would the other Demon Lords be so ready to agree with this?"
Risking Milim's anger normally wasn't a good idea, but the way Clayman saw it, this wasn't something he could readily agree to. He didn't intend to personally join the expedition, but he simply didn't want the other Demon Lords harping on him about the whole thing later.
The agreement of four Demon Lords made the annulment granted, but that non-aggression treaty had kept the forest for centuries. It didn't seem like something that should be abandoned with such impulsive enthusiasm.....
As soon as the thought occurred to him,
Milim smiled once more and nodded. "You realized? Well, you're right. The whole reason behind that pact was because the territory belonged to that big, nasty dragon. We all signed it when Veldora, the Storm Dragon, was locked away three hundred years ago, just to ensure nothing we did broke the seal by accident. You became Demon Lords around the same time, so I guess it makes sense you're not aware of that. And I'm sure the first person to support it was..."
Thus began a long, winding story of Demon Lord politics from centuries ago. Milim clearly enjoyed reminiscing about it, and as he listened, Clayman realized she was right all along. Veldora was the real issue, and if he was gone, no Demon Lord would present any complaints about abolishing the pact. Even if someone did, it seemed unlikely that three would, the number needed for a quorum at these conferences.
Perhaps, he thought, instantly discarding his original reasoning, it would be easier to do what Milim says.
"If that's the case, I have no objections. We can also begin selecting our expeditionary force at once for deployment into the forest."
"Whoa, Clayman." Karion gave a scowling, aggressive smile. "You mean we all work together? Or first come, first served, like what Milim said?"
"Hmm..." said Frey before Clayman could respond: "I was thinking... How about each of us deploy our own forces, and we could have them compete against each other? I could even have my own daughters in my place... and besides, isn't this something silly to argue about?"
The somber way she put it indicated the futility of fighting over an expedition meant to increase all their forces. It made total sense. The other three froze for a moment. For all of them, working separately seemed far more pleasant than working together. A competition meant not having to consider anyone else's needs.
They gauged each other's faces for a moment and then nodded.
"Ha-ha-ha-ha! First come, first served, then! No hard feelings!"
"Very well. But I don't care for a slow, drawn-out expedition. I won't hinder any of you, but I'm not helping either. We understand that?"
"Well, so be it. We don't know who survived the battle, but I think we'll find out soon. You participate at your own risk, remember."
It was decided. The Jura Forest would soon be the stage for not one, but four different interventions.
"Let the competition begin, then! But we can't interfere with each other, right? That's a promise!"
"Certainly. I'll ensure my daughters don't interfere with anyone else...."
"Fair enough. I swear by my name as Beast Master that I'll uphold it!"
"Understood, Milim. I, Clayman, will not break this agreement."
"Great! Then all the arrangements are made. Now let's annul the non-aggression pact once and for all," said Milim, beaming.
Thus, four Demon Lords agreed not to have their forces interfere within the forest. Their four signatures, the keys to annulling the treaty, were quickly dispatched in secret from the other Demon Lords.
The Jura Forest was no longer neutral territory. Now it would be the stage for some Demon Lord war games.
"Well, off I go!"
Milim left the room the moment her declaration was complete. She came so fast that her final goodbye was still echoing loudly in the chamber when she was out of sight.
"Looks like we've already been left behind," observed Frey, exasperated.
"So self-centered as always, I see."
Karion laughed and shrugged in agreement.
Clayman cast an ironic smile, refraining from any verbal comment at first. Then, a thought occurred to him.
"But if the non-aggression pact is a thing of the past, doesn't the Jura Forest require a new ruler?" he whispered.
"Yes?" Karion responded. "You want me to take the role?"
"I think that was part of the reason the treaty was signed in the first place," replied Frey.
"Gah-ha-ha-ha! Ah, come on. Look, if we find out the survivor is at least Demon Lord class, I don't see why we can't have him as king."
"Then we can resurrect our plan to create a Demon Lord, yes?"
"That's true...." said Clayman.
"Well, considering we apparently already have someone with eyes on ruling the forest, I think we'd better move, huh?"
There wasn't much planning until they scouted Jura. The rest of the demons decided to follow Milim's lead.
With another pleasant laugh, Karion opened a Portal, one of the elemental magics, to return home. Frey was soon gone as well.
Clayman, left alone, smiled faintly as he began to formulate a plan for the future.
"Milim, Karion, and Frey. Let's see then..."
The anticipation was clear on his face as he fantasized to himself, alone.
Very soon, a new threat would be visiting the town that Rimuru and her followers called home.
But they had a certain newly ascended True Hero to protect them...
. . . . .
The morning sun rays streamed through the slits in the wooden blinds, drawing golden stripes over the soft futon. The room was simple but absurdly cozy, light wood walls freshly cut, the smell of pine and resin in the air, a low table with an iron kettle and two ceramic cups that someone had clearly placed there "just in case." There was even a small window overlooking the lake just behind the old goblin village, and the distant sound of hammers and hobgoblin children's laughter came muffled, as if the whole world was in a good mood.
Kazuya opened his eyes slowly.
Or rather, tried to.
Because right away, a headache the size of an entire planet exploded behind his orbits.
"...Aaaargh... what the hell kind of hangover is this if I didn't even drink?" He grumbled, bringing both hands to his head. The white hair slipped through his fingers like cold silk: "Okay, calm down... where the hell am I?"
The room spun twice before settling. He was lying on a warm futon, covered up to his chest by a blanket that smelled of herbs and... honey? Definitely honey. Someone had gone all out on the lavender too. It was too good to be a prison, but too comfortable to be a normal hospital.
Before he could get up, a calm, crystalline, and slightly feminine voice echoed directly in his head. It wasn't the Voice of the World; he already knew that one. This was... different. Polite, precise, with a touch of contained pride.
[Report. During the evolution to [True Hero], due to the simultaneous acquisition of multiple ultimate skills, the process required significantly longer than standard time. According to my calculations, completion occurred after exactly four days, seventeen hours, forty-two minutes, and thirty-two seconds. During this period, the individual was rescued by a high-level energy entity that self-identified as "Rimuru Tempest," and subsequently transported to a forming country located in the center of the Jura Forest.]
Kazuya blinked. Then blinked again.
The headache subsided a bit, as if ashamed to continue existing in front of that all-proper voice...
"...Four days?" He murmured, sitting up slowly. His body responded perfectly. No sore muscles, no bones out of place. In fact, he felt... absurdly well and much stronger in terms of physical attributes, apparently: "Okay, got it. Thanks for the summary...."
He paused. Looked at the wooden ceiling as if he could see the voice's owner there.
"...And you are?"
[Report. I am the ultimate skill, Lord of Wisdom, Raphael.]
Kazuya raised an eyebrow, not because he had acquired an ultimate skill upon evolving into a [True Hero]. He vaguely remembered hearing those concepts before passing out in his mind. What really surprised him was feeling something different coming from the skill itself.
A "touch of emotion."
The [Lord of Wisdom, Raphael] seemed... too presumptuous when introducing itself.
"...Why do I feel like you're being a bit presumptuous in responding to me in such a simple way?"
[Your imagination...]
For Raphael, the Lord of Wisdom, who had closely followed Kazuya's evolution since it was carved into his soul, there was no feeling whatsoever in being called "presumptuous." It had just executed the response provided by its calculations, followed the probabilities, and obtained results. It saw no further meaning in it. Success didn't make it feel happy, and failure wouldn't make it feel sad with all probability. It didn't even understand what those emotions would mean. Even with all the great knowledge it possessed, the brilliant brain with which it was blessed, it wasn't enough to understand human emotion.
But deep down, in a heart it should never have, in a corner of Kazuya's soul, a will was born. An "I," to put it another way. There had to be one there, or else a skill wouldn't respond in such a dishonest way to some question from its "master." And then the question arose: why did I take that kind of action? It came from within Raphael, and it was solid proof that this being had a self, separate from its master.
And yet, even this slight suspicion about itself that was born in its head was something Raphael quickly averted its eyes from.
I think, therefore I am...
It was a thesis that Raphael found itself constantly pondering, moving forward and never finding an answer.
On the other hand, unaware of his ultimate skill that was "gaining awareness," Kazuya rose from the futon with a light leap, his bare feet touching the cool tatami. Only then did he realize someone had changed his clothes: instead of the modern uniform all torn from the interdimensional trip, he was wearing a simple dark-blue yukata, with silver details on the sleeves. It was too big on the shoulders, clearly made for someone of similar build but not exactly the same.
"Someone undressed me while I was out..." He murmured casually: "I hope it was a beautiful woman at least...."
[Response: The individual who transported you and personally took care of your hygiene was "Rimuru Tempest"...]
"Rimuru...?" He murmured, frowning, knowing what world he was in, he felt somewhat uncomfortable knowing that a "man" had changed his clothes.
[Suggestion: According to my calculations, the individual named "Rimuru Tempest" has no gender; their current race is a Slime. But the probability of having appreciated the view is 99.9%. The probability of blushing while changing your clothes is 94.2%.]
Kazuya was silent for two seconds.
Two whole seconds.
Then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath... and let it out slowly.
"Okay. Now I'm absolutely sure you're messing with me."
[Negative. The interpretation of sarcasm is the exclusive fruit of your perception.]
"...You just said, with all the letters, that someone who was a man before being reborn and losing their gender probably enjoyed seeing me naked."
[Correction: I used the term "appreciated."]
Kazuya brought his hand to his face.
"That's what I was talking about..."
He threw himself back onto the futon for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling.
"You couldn't just be... a normal skill, could you? Like, 'calculate this,' 'analyze that.' Done. No extra comments."
[That request conflicts with my response optimization function.]
"Of course it does..."
He rolled to his side, sighing.
"...I really hope you don't inherit my personality."
[Probability of inheriting your personality: 0.003%.]
"Thank God."
He got up again, ignoring the residual twinge in his head, and walked to the little window. The lake shimmered under the morning sun, too calm to be real. The reflection of the giant trees from the Jura Forest made everything look like a living painting. In the distance, he could see some small silhouettes running between the houses; goblins, hobgoblins, orcs, and various other types of monsters.
"So... this is really Tempest, just about to become Tempest."
[Affirmative]
Kazuya let out a low laugh.
"...This is gonna be fun..." He murmured, a slow smile forming at the corner of his mouth. "A new world, monsters everywhere, a country being born from scratch... I think I landed in the perfect scenario to enjoy some good vacations..."
He turned slightly, resting his hand on the windowsill.
"Okay, since I woke up all renewed and apparently became a True Hero in this world that's equal to a Demon Lord in terms of power..." He made a vague gesture with his hand. "Explain properly. What exactly happened to me during those four days?"
There was a brief silence within his mind.
Then Raphael responded.
[Confirmation. During the period you remained unconscious, your existence completed the full evolution to the state known as: True Hero.]
Kazuya blinked.
"...That I already know...."
[This state enhanced all your physical attributes to levels that exceed the natural limits of this world. Strength, speed, durability, perception, regeneration, and endurance were elevated to a much superior level.]
He flexed his fingers slowly, feeling the absolute control over his own body.
"Yeah... I noticed. It doesn't even feel like I slept for four days. It feels like I was reborn."
[Compatible definition.]
Raphael continued, without giving room for interruption.
[Furthermore, your existential structure was altered. You are now classified as a semi-spiritual life form. Semi-spiritual life forms are beings that exist in a structure beyond any material life form and are not truly bound to a physical body, even though they may possess one. They are divided into two main categories: those who achieved enlightenment while still semi-material life forms and those who are naturally born with this status, usually in spiritual worlds.
Being free from the flesh and not depending on a material body to function naturally means that semi-spiritual life forms store their memories and thoughts in their spiritual bodies, or even at deeper levels of existence. For those who still possess a physical body, it becomes practically free from the common limitations of life: its structure is gradually rebuilt to surpass the limits of organic biology. Even if their brains are destroyed, they are capable of regenerating them without difficulty.
Although semi-spiritual life forms are extremely close to spiritual life forms in their essence, they remain inferior in one fundamental aspect: mortality. If the spiritual body of a semi-spiritual life form is destroyed, its existence comes to a definitive end, as it failed to completely transcend the limitations of its own being and thus cheat death.]
Kazuya raised an eyebrow.
"Basically, my physical body fused with my third magic, Heaven's Feel? Well, that's one way to see this 'evolution' phenomenon into a superior life form. Although I believe that due to my third magic, I'm still immortal, right?"
[Correct.]
"...What a comfort."
He took a deep breath.
"And my energy... Magicules, that's what the magical energy source is called in this world, right? There was no increase....?"
[Correct. It did not increase. Due to the influence of your third magic, a sub-skill of your unknown-rank skill, Another Cosmology, your reserve was already classified as infinite even before the evolution. Therefore, there was no measurable variation.]
He remained silent for a few seconds, digesting that.
"...Infinite remains infinite. Fair."
Raphael made a minimal pause.
[In addition to the evolution to a superior life form. You acquired multiple Ultimate Skills.]
Kazuya raised an eyebrow.
"Multiple how many?"
[Thirty.]
The room seemed to become a little quieter.
"...Thirty."
[Initiating enumeration.]
["Lord of Invulnerability, Behemoth", "Lord of Fate, Zurvan", "Lord of Holiness, Zadkiel", "Lord of Creation, Yahweh", "Queen of Heroic Spirits, Alaya", "Lord of Folly, Saklas", "Lord of Justice, Michael", "Lord of Knowledge, Raphael","Lord of Covenants, Uriel", "Lord of Hope, Sariel", "Lord of Patience, Gabriel", "Lord of Purity, Metatron", "Lord of Charity, Raguel", "Lord of Pride, Lucifer", "Lord of Wrath, Satanael", "Lord of Sloth, Belphegor", "Lord of Gluttony, Beelzebub", "Lord of Lust, Asmodeus", "Lord of Greed, Mammon", "Lord of Envy, Leviathan", "Lord of Heavens, Astarte", "Lord of Dominion, Melchizedek","Lord of Salvation, Azrael", "Lord of Glory, Haniel", "Lord of Judgment, Sandalphon", "Lord of Trials, Israfil", "Lord of Severity, Jibril", "Lord of Topography, World Map", "Lord of Martial Creation, Multi-Weapons" and "Alternative"]
[Confirmed total: thirty Ultimate Skills.]
When the enumeration ended, Kazuya was completely still.
The sun continued streaming through the window.
"...Raphael."
[Yes.]
"Isn't all this overkill for a single 'hero'?"
[Negative. Your soul demonstrated total compatibility with all the concepts.]
"...So does that mean I'm the strongest because I'm Ryougi Kazuya..." Kazuya murmured, his voice low, looking at his own hand as if staring at an invisible mirror: "...or am I Ryougi Kazuya because I'm the strongest?"
There was an unusually long silence within his mind.
[...This statement presents a circular logical contradiction.]
"It's an existential question, genius."
[...]
[Pause detected. Processing.]
For the first time since awakening, Kazuya had the clear sensation that Raphael... froze for a microsecond.
He narrowed his eyes slightly.
"...Why do I feel now that you were treating me like a primate devoid of intelligence?"
[Negative. That interpretation is the exclusive fruit of your imagination.]
"Funny... I sensed a certain hidden contempt there."
[Nonexistent.]
Kazuya let out a slow sigh, running his hand through his still disheveled white hair.
"Okay, okay... never mind."
He was about to open his mouth to finally ask for the details of his ultimate skills when—
KNOCK.
The wooden sliding door opened smoothly.
A light, delicate presence entered the room.
Kazuya turned his face...
And for a brief instant, simply remained silent.
The girl who entered seemed about sixteen years old. Small, just over a meter and a half tall, slender, with a refined posture too polite for someone living in a newborn village in the middle of the Jura Forest. Her long, wavy, pinkish hair fell like a soft veil down to her waist, framing an absurdly beautiful face. Under delicate eyebrows, large carmine-colored eyes watched him with clear surprise.
But the detail that confirmed she wasn't human were the thin, elegant horns, slightly curved backward.
She wore a white kimono with long sleeves embroidered in simple and graceful red, along with a red kimono skirt tied by a ribbon at the waist.
Beautiful. Not just pretty, very beautiful.
Kazuya blinked once.
...Ah.
The memory came in the same instant.
Shuna...? It seems he had arrived at the time when she evolved into a Kijin, but he'd have to know exactly what time it was....
[Confirmation. The individual identified as "Shuna" belongs to the Kijin race. Possesses high energy level. Was one of the most frequent visitors during your period of unconsciousness.]
Shuna, who had taken only two steps into the room, froze upon seeing him awake.
"S-Sir... you..."
The carmine eyes widened slightly, and for an instant she completely forgot her refined posture. The delicate face gained a soft, almost imperceptible but real blush.
"You've awakened...?"
Kazuya brought a hand to the back of his neck, half embarrassed, analyzing her for another second before responding.
"Apparently yes. I'm not dead... yet."
She took a quick step forward but stopped suddenly, clasping her hands in front of her body.
"Thank heavens..."
The voice came out too relieved to be mere formality.
He arched an eyebrow, curious.
"And you are...?"
Shuna immediately made a perfect bow, the kimono moving with grace.
"My name is Shuna. I am one of Rimuru-sama's subordinates." She raised her face with a shy smile... still slightly flushed. "And... I was tasked with checking your condition this morning."
"I see."
Kazuya supported himself better on the futon and smiled crookedly.
"Pleasure, Shuna. My name is Kazuya."
She blinked lightly.
"Kazuya..."
The name seemed to linger in her mouth for half a second longer than necessary.
"Thank you for taking care of me while I was out." His tone was light, sincere. "I imagine it wasn't little work."
Immediately, she waved her hands in front of her body, nervous.
"No! I only helped a little!" She lowered her gaze. "The one who saved you, who brought you here, who ensured your safety... was Rimuru-sama."
"...I see."
Kazuya let out a small low laugh.
"Then I'll have to thank her personally."
The blush on Shuna's face increased discreetly.
"Rimuru-sama will be very happy to know you've awakened..."
She then looked more closely at him. At the white hair, the clear eyes, the posture too relaxed for someone who had just awakened after days unconscious. He was easily the most beautiful man she had ever seen in her life.
For some reason... her heart beat a little faster.
She averted her gaze almost imperceptibly.
Raphael, within Kazuya's mind, recorded:
[Observation: sudden increase in the heart rate of the individual "Shuna." Possible altered emotional state.]
Shuna cleared her throat softly, trying to regain her composure.
"So... may I ask... who exactly are you, Kazuya-sama?"
"Just call me Kazuya.... Basically... someone who appeared in this world by accident."
She tilted her head, curious.
"...Another world?"
"Yeah. Pretty far from here."
Shuna's eyes sparkled for an instant, pure curiosity.
"Rimuru-sama also came from another world..."
That made Kazuya smile more genuinely.
"Then we already have something in common."
The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable. It was... strangely smooth.
Until Shuna seemed to remember something and widened her eyes suddenly.
"Ah! I need to inform Rimuru-sama that you've awakened!" She made another quick bow, flustered. "She asked me to come check personally!"
She? Wait! Does that mean he was in a world where Rimuru Tempest was a woman!?
[Confirmation: Rimuru Tempest currently uses a feminine form, despite having no gender.]
Kazuya blinked for half a second.
...That explains some suspicious statistics. But wasn't Raphael being a bit useless there? Since she could have told him about this from the beginning and not left him feeling uncomfortable about a man having changed his clothes and appreciated his beautiful body....
[...]
Shuna didn't understand, but smiled politely anyway.
"I'll call her immediately!"
She turned and hurried out down the wooden corridor.
The moment the door closed, Kazuya stretched.
Waiting for his first meeting with the most powerful Slime in this world....
___________________________
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