Three Minutes later - Sword Completion
The workshop door opened with a satisfying click.
Kaijin stood there, staring at twenty identical longswords laid out in perfect rows. His hands trembled slightly as he picked one up, examining the blade with the practiced eye of a master craftsman.
"Impossible," he whispered. "The balance... the edge... the magisteel integration... These are perfect."
I bounced casually on the workbench.
"Told you I could help."
Garm and Dold rushed in, each grabbing a sword. Their eyes widened in synchronized shock.
"Boss," Garm breathed, "these are better than anything we've ever made. How did—"
"Don't ask," I interrupted. "Just know that your commission is complete. Vester gets his swords. You keep your license. Everyone wins."
Kaijin set down the blade, then turned to me with an expression I couldn't quite read.
"Alright, you mysterious bastard. Let's deliver these swords and celebrate properly."
The Night Butterfly - Evening
The club was exactly as I remembered from the anime.
Dim lighting. Elegant elven hostesses in tastefully revealing outfits. The scent of expensive alcohol and even more expensive perfume.
And I was sitting in the center of it all, maintaining my human illusion while Kaijin and his crew celebrated around me.
"Rimuru-sama!" One of the hostesses—a beautiful elf with silver hair—leaned close, refilling my glass. "You're so mysterious! What brings a handsome man like you to Dwargon?"
I took a sip of the dwarven ale. Strong. Earthy. Actually quite good.
"Business," I said simply, meeting her eyes with practiced ease. "And pleasure, apparently."
She giggled, her hand resting on my arm.
Six years as Satoru Mikami on Earth. Multiple relationships. Enough experience to know how this dance works.
I wasn't the awkward virgin from canon. I'd had my fair share of encounters—professional women, colleagues, Actresses, even a brief relationship with an architect I'd worked with on a project in Osaka.
So when the hostess leaned closer, trailing her fingers across my sleeve, I didn't fumble.
I simply smiled—warm but not desperate, interested but not eager.
"You're quite forward," I said.
"And you're quite composed." She tilted her head. "Most men who come here are... easier to read."
That's the Essence of Blank talking.
My soul existed outside this world's causality. To her perceptions—subconscious and otherwise—I registered as something more. Not through any active effort on my part.
Just... presence.
The kind of presence that made people want to be near you. To impress you. To earn your attention.
It was subtle. Passive. And completely unavoidable.
"Maybe I'm just good at keeping secrets," I replied.
"Ooh, I love secrets!" Another hostess appeared on my other side. "Tell us one!"
Across the table, Kaijin was red-faced and grinning, surrounded by his own admirers.
"Rimuru! Rimuru, my friend! Let me tell you—" He raised his mug high. "This man! This slime! Created twenty magisteel swords in three minutes! THREE MINUTES!"
"Kaijin," I said mildly, "you're drunk."
"I'm CELEBRATING!" He slammed his mug down, sloshing ale everywhere. "Garm! Dold! Tell them! Tell them how incredible this was!"
The brothers joined in, their voices overlapping as they explained—badly—how I'd somehow produced an impossible number of perfect weapons.
The hostesses listened with rapt attention, though I doubted they understood half of it.
This is nice.
For a moment, I let myself relax.
Enjoy the atmosphere. The camaraderie. The simple pleasure of good company and better alcohol.
Canon says this is where Vester shows up. Right about...
The heavy oak doors slammed open.
The music stopped.
Conversation died.
Now.
Minister Vester.
Dressed in expensive finery that screamed "I'm important and you're not." His face twisted in a permanent sneer of aristocratic disdain.
Behind him, a nervous-looking assistant clutched a ledger.
"So," Vester's voice dripped with venom, "this is where the kingdom's 'legendary' blacksmith wastes his time? Drinking with monsters and cheap whores?"
The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.
Kaijin's smile vanished. He set down his mug slowly, deliberately.
"Minister Vester. What an... unexpected pleasure."
Vester's eyes swept the room, landing on me.
And for just a split second, I saw it.
Confusion.
His perception tried to categorize me. Failed. Tried again.
I wasn't using [Coercion]. Wasn't projecting any hostile intent.
But my soul—the Essence of Blank—simply existed in a way that reality couldn't quite process.
To Vester, I appeared as a handsome young man. Well-dressed. Confident. Sitting comfortably among beautiful women who clearly enjoyed his company.
Everything Vester wanted to be.
And the fact that this "nobody" possessed it so effortlessly while Vester had to buy respect?
It enraged him.
"And who," Vester walked closer, knuckles white on his cane, "is this?"
"A guest," Kaijin said, voice low and dangerous. "And a friend. Show some respect."
"Respect?" Vester laughed—sharp, ugly. "For what? A blacksmith who couldn't meet a simple deadline? A failure?"
Here it comes.
I set down my glass, watching Vester's hand move toward a nearby tray.
Water glass. Just like canon.
Vester grabbed it, his eyes locked on mine with pure malice.
"You think you're better than me, boy? Sitting here with your whores and your—"
He threw the water.
Raphael.
＜＜Acknowledged.＞＞
I activated [Water Manipulation]—subtle, precise, invisible.
The water arced through the air.
And curved.
Just slightly. Just enough.
It splashed back onto Vester's own face and chest, soaking his expensive clothes.
The minister stumbled, caught off-balance by the unexpected trajectory.
It looked exactly like he'd slipped. Fumbled. Made a fool of himself.
The room froze.
Vester stood there, dripping, his face turning from white to red to purple.
"You—how did you—that's not—"
"I'm sorry," I said mildly, still seated. "Did something happen, Minister? You seem... wet."
The insult was perfect.
Just... concern. Like watching a child who'd spilled juice on themselves.
Vester's hand rose to slap me.
CRACK!
A fist the size of a ham intercepted his wrist.
Kaijin stood between us, his entire body trembling with barely-controlled rage.
"Don't. Touch. Him."
"You dare—" Vester tried to pull free. Failed. "I am a Minister of the Crown! Release me this instant!"
"You came into my celebration," Kaijin's voice was ice, "insulted my friends, and tried to assault my guest."
His fist tightened.
Vester yelped in pain.
"Get. Out."
"I'll have you arrested! Guards! GUARDS!"
The dwarven military police stormed in within seconds—they'd probably been waiting outside.
"Arrest him!" Vester shrieked, cradling his wrist. "Arrest Kaijin! And that... that thing with him!"
The guards hesitated, looking between Vester's soaked, disheveled appearance and Kaijin's dignified fury.
"We'll need statements from everyone," the captain said carefully.
"Statements?!" Vester's voice cracked. "I am a MINISTER! These criminals assaulted me! I demand immediate arrest!"
The captain sighed. "Everyone involved will need to come to the palace for questioning. That includes you, Minister."
"What?! I'm the victim here!"
"Then you'll have no problem giving your account, sir."
As the guards surrounded our table, Kaijin looked at me with weary resignation.
"I'm sorry, Rimuru. Looks like the party's over."
I stood, letting the water on Vester's clothes evaporate with a thought—just enough to make him look even more disheveled.
"Don't worry, Kaijin," I said, patting his shoulder. "The night is still young."
And everything is going exactly according to canon.
Royal Palace - Two Days Later
The throne room was magnificent.
Carved from solid stone. Magical lighting crystals providing warm illumination. Heraldic banners hanging from vaulted ceilings.
And at the center, seated on a throne of polished granite—
King Gazel Dwargo.
The Heroic King of the dwarves.
I'd seen him in the anime. Read about him in the light novel.
But seeing him in person was different.
He was massive. Not just tall—dwarves rarely exceeded five feet—but broad. Muscles like carved stone. Skin the color of deep bronze. Black hair pulled back in a warrior's topknot.
And his presence...
This is a king who's lived for centuries. Fought wars. Built a kingdom.
Even sitting perfectly still, he radiated power.
We knelt on the cold stone floor—me, Kaijin, Garm, Dold, and Gobta.
Vester stood to the side, bandaged and smug.
"Kaijin," King Gazel's voice rumbled through the hall like distant thunder. "You are charged with assaulting Minister Vester. Do you deny it?"
"I do not, Your Majesty."
Good. Honesty first.
"And you," Gazel's gaze shifted to me.
Then—
Pressure.
It slammed down like a physical weight. Spiritual force designed to crush lesser wills. To make subjects bow. To separate the strong from the weak.
Hero's Haki.
I'd felt Conqueror's Haki before—from myself, from others in the One Piece world.
This was similar but different.
More refined. More focused. A technique honed over centuries of rule.
It pressed against my soul, demanding submission.
And my soul—the Essence of Blank—
Didn't acknowledge it.
It simply... existed outside the framework that made the pressure meaningful.
Like trying to compress a void. The force had nothing to grip.
While my Essence of Overcoming limitation just overcame it evolved through it.
＜＜Notice: External spiritual pressure detected. Analyzing... Analysis complete. Technique catalogued as [Hero's Haki]. Integration possible. Proceed?＞＞
Yes. Integrate it.
＜＜Acknowledged. Skill [Hero's Haki] obtained. Synchronizing with existing [Haki] framework... Complete. New capabilities unlocked.＞＞
Perfect.
All of this happened in less than a second.
To Gazel, it looked like I'd simply... not reacted.
His eyebrows twitched.
Just slightly.
But I caught it.
He noticed. Of course he did. You don't rule for centuries without learning to read people.
"You are the slime named Rimuru?" Gazel asked, his tone shifting subtly.
"I am, Your Majesty." I kept my voice respectful but not subservient.
"Minister Vester claims you provoked him. That you are a spy sent to destabilize our economy."
Oh, here we go.
"A spy?" I let a hint of amusement color my tone. "Your Majesty, if I wanted to destabilize your economy, I wouldn't need to spy. I'd just sell high-grade healing potions at half market price and watch your pharmaceutical guild collapse within a week."
Gasps echoed through the court.
Vester's jaw dropped. "Your Majesty! This creature just threatened—"
"He stated a fact," Gazel interrupted. His eyes never left mine. "Didn't he?"
"I... that is... he—"
"Silence, Vester."
The king leaned forward slightly.
"You speak boldly for a monster."
"I speak honestly for a merchant," I countered. "There's a difference."
For a long moment, we stared at each other.
King and slime.
Ruler and outsider.
I could feel him reading me. Analyzing. Trying to understand what I was.
And finding... nothing.
The Essence of Blank made me unreadable. Invisible to fate, precognition, and soul-reading techniques.
To Gazel, I was a blank slate. A variable that didn't fit any known pattern.
And that made me either incredibly dangerous or incredibly valuable.
Finally, he sat back.
"The judgment is decided."
Vester grinned, expecting execution.
"Kaijin, and his associates Garm and Dold."
The dwarves tensed.
"Along with the slime Rimuru and the hobgoblin Gobta."
I kept my expression neutral.
Here it comes.
"You are hereby exiled from the Kingdom of Dwargon. You have two hours to leave the city. If you are found within our borders after that time, the penalty is death."
Vester's grin faltered.
"Exile?! But Your Majesty! They attacked a Minister! They should be—"
"Silence!"
The single word cracked like a whip.
Vester stumbled backward, fear flashing across his face.
Gazel's eyes swept over us one final time.
"My word is law. Go."
As we were escorted out, I caught Gazel watching me.
Our eyes met.
And I saw something there. Recognition, maybe. Or calculation.
Either way, I'd passed his evaluation.
We were free.
Outside the Gates - Two Hours Later
The massive stone doors of Dwargon rumbled shut behind us.
We stood on the mountain path, wind whipping at our clothes.
Kaijin, Garm, and Dold carried nothing but their essential tools and the clothes on their backs.
Decades of service to the kingdom. Gone in a single punch.
"Well," Kaijin let out a long breath, staring at the closed gate. "That's that. Can't say I didn't see it coming."
"Do you regret it?" I asked, dropping my human illusion and returning to slime form.
Kaijin looked at me. Then at his brothers. Then back at the gate.
Then he laughed.
"Regret punching that greasy little weasel? Not for a second! That was the best swing of my life!"
Garm and Dold joined in, their laughter echoing off the mountainside.
"So," I said once they'd calmed down, "what will you do now? You're homeless, unemployed, and branded as criminals."
Kaijin hoisted his hammer onto his shoulder.
"You said you were building something, didn't you? A village for monsters?"
"I did."
"Does it have a forge?"
"It will," I promised. "If you build it."
Kaijin grinned—fierce and determined.
"Then lead the way, Boss. Let's go make some history."
Gobta pumped his fist in the air. "Yeah! Back to Tempest!"
Tempest.
Right. That's what they're calling it now.
The village named after me and Veldora.
＜＜Notice: New subordinates acquired.＞＞ ＜＜Kaijin (Master Blacksmith)＞＞ ＜＜Garm (Master Armorsmith)＞＞ ＜＞
＜＜Canon timeline deviation: 2.3%. Within acceptable parameters.＞＞
I looked back at Dwargon one last time.
I turned to my new companions.
"Alright everyone. Let's go home."
As we began the journey back to the goblin village, I felt it.
The weight of what I was building.
Not just a village. Not just a community.
A nation.
One that would change this world.
And with dwarven craftsmen, goblin warriors, and direwolf cavalry—
We had everything we needed to begin.
Three Days Later - Return to the Village
Rigurd stood at the village entrance, surrounded by Hobgoblins and Tempest Wolves.
When he saw us approaching, his eyes went wide.
"Rimuru-sama! You've returned! And you've brought..."
"Dwarven craftsmen," I announced. "Master smiths who'll help us build properly."
Kaijin stepped forward, surveying the village with a professional eye.
"Not bad for monsters," he admitted. "But you need real infrastructure. Forges. Workshops. Proper housing."
"That's why you're here."
Rigurd approached, bowing deeply. "Welcome to our village, honored craftsmen. We are grateful for your—"
"Cut the formality," Kaijin interrupted. "We're exiles now. Criminals. Same as you monsters in the eyes of most kingdoms."
He extended his hand.
"So let's build something that makes them regret throwing us out."
Rigurd stared at the offered hand.
Then grasped it firmly.
"Welcome home, Kaijin-dono."
Home.
Yeah. That's what this is becoming.
As the dwarves were shown to their temporary quarters, I pulled Rigurd aside.
"Status report. What happened while I was gone?"
"No major incidents, Rimuru-sama. The Tempest Wolves have maintained security. Food stores are adequate. Construction continues as planned. Also 4 human came investigating the Lord veldora's disappearance."
"Good. Assign the dwarves workspace immediately. Kaijin will design the forge. Garm handles the armory. Dold can help with architecture. I will meet them."
"At once!"
As Rigurd hurried off, Ranga approached.
Master. You have returned safely.
"I have. And I brought us the craftsmen we needed."
The village grows stronger.
"It does."
Then... our enemies should fear us.
I looked at my Tempest Star Wolf companion.
"Not yet. We're still building. Still growing."
But soon?
"Soon."
Very soon.
END OF CHAPTER 23
Skills/Abilities Acquired:
[Hero's Haki] - Catalogued from King Gazel's spiritual pressure Integrated with existing [Haki] framework New capabilities unlocked (will be explored later)