Seeing changes everything.
The world doesn't suddenly make sense—it's still overwhelming, still too much information flooding in at once—but at least now you can tell where the ground ends and the trees begin. That's something. That's more than you had an hour ago.
You move slower now. Partly because you're still figuring out how to process what you're sensing, but mostly because you're not running for your life anymore.
It's strange, having time to just... exist.
The forest is loud in ways you never expected. Not the chaotic noise of the city, but layers of sound and sensation that build on each other. Trees creak. Small animals rustle through leaves. Wind moves through branches you can barely sense. Even the earth feels alive somehow, like it's breathing.
You slide forward, testing your new perception with each movement. The Archivist stays quiet, letting you figure things out on your own. You're grateful for that.
Is this what the world always felt like? Or is it different because I'm different?
You don't have an answer.
Time passes—you think. It's hard to tell without the sun visible through the canopy. But gradually, you become aware of something else.
That presence again.
It's still distant, but clearer now that you're not panicking. Steady. Calm. Almost... warm? That doesn't make sense, but you can't think of a better word for it.
Your movement slows.
Should I go toward it?
The question sits in your mind, unanswered. Part of you—the part that spent years alone in a hospital room—wants to. Desperately. But the part that just got chased by a monster says that's stupid. Dangerous. You don't know what that presence is. It could be anything.
But it doesn't feel dangerous.
You know how that sounds. You know trusting a feeling is probably the dumbest thing you could do right now. But you can't shake it.
"What do you think?" you ask the Archivist quietly, not really expecting an answer.
"Insufficient data to assess threat level.""However: observed emotional response suggests host familiarity with entity."
Familiarity. Right.
You don't know how to explain that part. How do you feel familiar with something you've never met?
Unless...
No. That's ridiculous.
You push the thought away before it can fully form. The world doesn't work like that. Just because you read a story doesn't mean you're in that story. That would be—
—exactly what already happened when you died and woke up as a slime.
You stop moving.
Okay. Maybe it's not that ridiculous.
Your awareness expands slightly, testing the limits. The presence is still there, steady as before. And now that you're paying attention, you notice something else.
The forest feels different here. Not wild, exactly, but... organized? There are paths. Faint traces of movement. Signs that something—someone—passes through regularly.
People?
The thought sends a jolt through you.
You'd been so focused on survival that you hadn't really considered what else might be out here. But of course there are people. Or monsters. Or whatever this world has. You remember enough from the novel to know the Forest of Jura wasn't empty.
Goblins. There were goblins.
The memory surfaces slowly. Weak monsters. Desperate. Until—
Your thoughts catch on something, but you force yourself to keep moving. Speculation won't help. You need to actually see what's ahead.
The ground slopes downward, opening into what feels like a clearing. You slow down instinctively, staying near the tree line. Your perception isn't good enough yet to sense much detail, but you catch movement. Multiple presences, smaller than the main one but numerous.
And then you hear it.
Laughter.
It's faint, carried on the wind, but unmistakable. Light. Genuine. The kind of sound that makes something in your chest tighten.
When was the last time I heard someone laugh like that?
You can't remember.
Your awareness locks onto the source without thinking, drawn to it like—
The presence sharpens. Focuses.
And suddenly you know.
It's him.
You don't know how you know. You just do. The same way you knew to trust that feeling earlier.
"Rimuru".
The name sits in your mind, heavy with meaning you can't quite process.
For a moment, you can't move. Can't think. The world narrows to just this—this single, impossible realization.
He's real. He's actually here.
Memories flood back. Reading in your hospital bed. Imagining what it would be like. Wishing, sometimes, that you could have something like what he found. Not the power. Not the adventure.
Just... someone.
Someone who'd look at you and see something worth protecting. Worth keeping around.
Family.
The word aches.
You stayed at the edge of the clearing, not quite brave enough to move forward. Your perception isn't clear enough to see details, but you can sense him there. Talking to the others. His presence is gentle but sure—like someone who knows exactly who they are.
Kind.
You're not sure why that surprises you. Maybe because kindness felt like a luxury in your old world. Something people could afford when they weren't dying.
Stop it.
You shake off the thought. You're not in that hospital anymore. You're here. And he's right there.
So what do I do?
Just walk up? Introduce yourself? Hi, I'm a slime too, and I might be from your world, and I've been following your presence because it felt safe, and—
Yeah, that won't sound creepy at all.
But staying hidden feels worse somehow. Like you're wasting something important.
You don't know what's going to happen. Don't know if this will change anything or if you're making a massive mistake.
You just know you have to try.
Slowly, carefully, you move forward.
Toward the voices.
Toward him.
Your core trembles slightly—fear and hope tangled together so tightly you can't separate them.
Please let this be the right choice.
You slide into the clearing, and everything else fades away.