Chapter 43: The Cost of Resurrection
"The CEO just arrived," I transmit to the three Otherworlders, who are now backing away in genuine terror. "And he's not interested in a settlement."
The air in the plaza doesn't just grow cold; it feels like the oxygen has been replaced by liquid lead. Rimuru's return isn't marked by a cheerful greeting or a bouncy landing. He descends slowly, his blue hair casting a shadow over eyes that have lost all trace of their usual optimism. The violet barrier still hums above us, but in Rimuru's presence, it feels like a flimsy curtain trying to hold back a hurricane.
"Shogo... Kyoya... Kirara..." Rimuru's voice is low, a whisper that carries further than any shout. "What have you done to my city?"
The three Otherworlders don't answer. For the first time, their ego-based confidence has met a wall they can't punch through. Even Shogo, with his [Berserker] pride, takes a step back. They realize that while they were playing at being conquerors, they were actually just small-time embezzlers caught by the owner of the bank.
I float toward Rimuru, my obsidian membrane dark and unyielding. My [Obsidian Aegis] is working overtime to filter the localized grief and fury radiating from him.
"The damage is extensive, Rimuru," I pulse, my voice a resonant, cold frequency. "Casualties are being tallied. Shion is... at the center of the plaza. The Falmuth main army is ten miles out and closing. We have roughly two hours before they attempt a total liquidation of our remaining assets."
Rimuru doesn't look at me. He walks past the retreating Otherworlders—who are too terrified to even swing at him—and makes his way to the center of the city. He stops where the white sheets have been laid out. He stops in front of Shion.
The silence that follows is the most expensive thing I've ever heard. It's the silence of a contract being torn up. It's the silence of a market about to be set on fire.
Notice. Target: Rimuru Tempest is undergoing a 'Soul Realignment'. The current magicule fluctuations suggest he is seeking a way to reverse the current loss. Analysis: Within the current laws of the world, death is a permanent write-off. However...
Azathoth, don't give me 'however'. Give me a probability. Is there a way to restore the lost inventory?
Scanning records... Searching Anime Season 1 milestones... Success. Notice: A fairy tale mentioned in the archives regarding a dragon girl who revived her pet through the mass collection of souls. Statistical probability of success if Rimuru evolves into a Demon Lord: 3.14%.
Three percent. In my world, those are 'long-shot' odds. Here, they're the only dividends we've got.
Rimuru suddenly looks up. The mask is still in his hand, but his face is set in a mask of its own—one of absolute, terrifying resolve.
"Shinji," he transmits, his voice sounding like a sword being drawn. "I'm going to do it. I'm going to become a Demon Lord. I'm going to bring them back."
"The price is 20,000 souls, Rimuru," I pulse, my obsidian surface reflecting his grim determination. "The Falmuth army is exactly that size. It's a perfect match on the ledger. But once you sign this deal, there's no going back to being just a 'teacher'. You'll be a predator."
"I don't care about the labels anymore," Rimuru says. "I just want my family back."
"Then we prepare for the Harvest Festival," I broadcast to the Kijin, who are now kneeling around their master. "Benimaru, take the lead on the defensive perimeter. Souei, continue the surveillance. I will handle the 'soul-collection' logistics. We need to ensure that every Falmuth soldier stays within the engagement zone. No one escapes without paying their entry fee."
Notice. Magicule Reserves: 91.5%. Location: Central Plaza, Tempest. Status: Mourning phase concluded. War Phase: Initiated. Soul Capacity: 44%.
Azathoth, prepare for a high-volume transaction. When the sun sets, we aren't just defending a city. We're conducting a hostile takeover of 20,000 lives. I want a clean tally. No soul left behind.
Chapter End.