That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime, Vol. 5

by Fuse

  It was crazy, but she sensed that it was nothing she could laugh at. All she could do was stay out of the way and watch.

  Once he handed over the king of Farmus and the archbishop, Ranga returned to the town entrance and stood guard. Rimuru had ordered him to meet up with the demons, and while he wanted more than anything to be at his master’s side, he had to prioritize his orders before he fell asleep. Deciding between his concerns for Rimuru and his vital orders, he ultimately sided with the latter.

  The magic-born Gruecith looked on, bemused, as Ranga waited.

  He had been asked by Benimaru—or, really, Shuna, more like—to stay with Ranga just in case something happened. If intruders showed up, he was to call for Benimaru and the others while Ranga engaged them. But there was clearly nobody coming, so Gruecith chatted with Ranga to kill the time.

  “That ogre princess Shuna’s quite the magic-user, isn’t she? Fortifying that barrier like it was the easiest thing in the world.”

  That barrier kept them from leaving town right now. Them and every other monster in the place, unless Rimuru was with them. Gruecith was no exception to that—the powerful barrier kept him efficiently penned in. It needed to if they wanted to resurrect Shion and all the other victims of that assault earlier.

  Benimaru and the others were able to return to town thanks to the intricate workings of Shuna, who had analyzed Mjurran’s great magic and took further measures to improve upon it. It was now set up to keep all magicules inside but also allow anyone to enter the barrier without an issue. A one-way street, in other words.

  Theoretically, it was certainly possible, but actually developing the magic was quite a creative feat. But Gruecith was even more preoccupied with how surprised Mjurran looked when she learned about it. He found it cute, that expression of hers, although he would never ever tell anyone else that. Discussing romance with Ranga wouldn’t accomplish much, he figured. Gruecith wasn’t that stupid.

  Ranga cheerfully nodded. “Yes. I think the same. Lady Shuna is second only to Sir Rimuru in intelligence.”

  Generally, monsters in town enjoyed praising one another. Gruecith had the impression that Ranga was a little too complimentary toward his master but he figured it’d be tasteless to bring it up. Besides, he liked that kind of atmosphere. It reminded him of his native Beast Kingdom, where people generally got along in the midst of all their chattering and carrying on.

  Lord Carillon is very shrewd, after all. And just as Lord Phobio said, every monster in this town seems so nice.

  “By the way, Sir Gruecith, I was wondering about something. I had heard the demon lords Carillon and Milim would be waging war soon…”

  Ranga gave Gruecith an expectant look, as if to ask whether everything was all right with him.

  “Ah, yeah…”

  It was a topic on Gruecith’s mind as well, but the barrier and its magicule blockage kept him from contacting Eurazania at the moment. He wasn’t that concerned, however. It was still three days before the start of combat, and as he said before, he believed that Carillon would win. It seemed like Rimuru was well on his way to becoming a demon lord, so Gruecith also figured he had enough time to see how that all shook out before heading back to help his own master. Besides, the Three Lycanthropeers were there, each far stronger than the likes of him. And as long as they were, no matter how much strength Milim might boast, Gruecith doubted she really meant to wage war.

  No point fretting over things now, he thought. He knew they were all bold and courageous over there, far more than people believed. No, his mind was elsewhere.

  “…Hope they all get resurrected.”

  His biggest concern was the fate of those sacrificed in battle here. If their resurrection turned sour, there was no doubt that Rimuru would suddenly become a major threat. He could feel that instinctively.

  “It will be all right. Monsters are made of tough stuff. Plus…all of us are connected in spirit. As long as we remain under Sir Rimuru’s protection, we will not be defeated that easily.”

  “Yeah. I think it’ll probably turn out fine, but…”

  “Heh-heh-heh. No need for concern. When my master finishes the evolution, I am sure he will bring everyone back.”

  It was a firm declaration, one based on Ranga’s confidence in Rimuru. Perhaps sensing Gruecith’s concern, he wanted to make it clear that the concept of Rimuru going out of control couldn’t be further from his mind.

  “Yeah, no doubt,” Gruecith replied with a smile. Regardless of the potential threat involved, he didn’t want Rimuru to change very much, either. He didn’t serve him, but he admittedly was attracted to his character—and he owed him a lot for saving Mjurran’s life, too.

  Of course, the girl I love is with another guy at the moment… Heh. If he was a bastard, I’d have killed him long ago, but if it’s Yohm, I can’t do much about that. I’ll just have to lay low until she inevitably dumps that idiot…or maybe get a little in the way between them, at least…

  The lingering attachment was clear in Gruecith’s thoughts. But he didn’t see the point of pursuing the topic.

  “Man, though, I wasn’t expecting to see a demon lord evolution with my own two eyes…”

  “Nothing to be surprised about. This is Sir Rimuru, you know.”

  “Um, no, I mean…! A monster becoming the seed of a demon lord is something that happens maybe once every few centuries, you know?”

  “The seed…?”

  “Yeah. It proves the world’s recognized them as a powerful-enough monster. The strongest beings in the land. There are only ten of them, Lord Carillon included.”

  “Oh? So Rimuru will become the eleventh demon lord?”

  “Well, who knows? You can’t say how the other demon lords will respond to this. This whole thing’s ruining the current balance of power among them. There could be some pretty tumultuous years ahead if it goes wrong.”

  “If so, then we will protect Sir Rimuru with our own powers!”

  “Yeah, well, I’m in the same boat, too. I’ll be a sword for Lord Carillon to wield. I sure hope I don’t have to face off against you guys, though, I’ll say.”

  “Heh-heh-heh. I agree.”

  They laughed with each other, glad they were on the same page. The chitchat continued for a while longer.

  ………

  ……

  …

  Gruecith was expecting absolutely nothing out of the ordinary to happen. But after a decent amount of time passed, Ranga’s eyelids began to droop heavily.

  Shuna had apparently anticipated this possibility. When a demon lord was born, anyone below them was given a so-called “gift,” a sort of evolution that could not be resisted, and it put the target in a deep sleep.

  “Gnnh… I—I am not sure I can last much longer. I will sleep…but if I do, my orders… Lord…Gruecith… I need you to…take something on for me, but…will you…?”

  Apparently, three demons might be coming to the entrance shortly, summoned by Rimuru and ordered to bring over a survivor from Farmus. Ranga hated to pass the buck to him, but he could overcome his fatigue no longer, so he extracted Gruecith’s promise to take care of matters before dejectedly falling asleep.

  There was a single survivor, he heard, and a fairly powerful foe at that. Powerful enough that he could attack and defeat the demons. Gruecith would have to be careful, even though the thought of being trusted so much made him a little happy. So he began patrolling the area, a new spring in his step, as he tried to keep Ranga and the defenseless townspeople safe.

  Not half an hour later, they appeared.

  “Ah, Sir Ranga,” a rather beautiful-looking demon said. “It would appear he’s gone into an evolving sleep.”

  It was a shocking sight for Gruecith. The demons had obviously been granted physical bodies, all far more powerful than your garden-variety summon. Ranga said they were Greater Demons, but these guys were clearly a level above even that. The sheer terror of the sight made his hair stand on end—the lo
udest alarm bell his own instincts could give him.

  “Whoa, whoa, I’ve never seen the likes of you before. You an Arch Demon?”

  “Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh. That is correct, magic-born.”

  Even at first sight, the danger this Arch Demon presented was obvious. He felt an overwhelming sense of awe—like what he felt whenever he saw Benimaru or the Three Lycanthropeers. Maybe even more powerful.

  “Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh. Please don’t be so alarmed,” the demon cheerfully stated. “I am just a nameless demon summoned by the new demon lord. The two behind me are meant to handle the chore work for me, so no need to worry about them.”

  “Chore work?”

  He gave the pair a look. They were two Greater Demons, one carrying a passed-out man on his back. Both of them possessed enough magic power to pose a formidable threat. They were certainly on the same level as a stronger magic-born in terms of combat strength.

  And these were Greater Demons? Gruecith couldn’t believe it. But he just shrugged and nodded instead of bringing it up.

  “All right. Sir Ranga told me to expect three demons here before long. Is that man the survivor of Sir Rimuru’s attack?”

  “It was not an attack. To someone like that, it was just a bit of playtime. Plus, thanks to this man’s surviving, the three of us were summoned here. We’ve been treating him well because we do appreciate that a little.”

  “Treating him well, huh…?”

  One could question whether riding on the back of a Greater Demon qualified as kind treatment. Gruecith was too smart to say that out loud, though.

  “All right. The magicules are pretty thick in town, so you better protect him with a barrier.”

  “Wouldn’t that be spoiling him a little too much?”

  “…I thought you were treating him well.”

  “Ah, yes. You’re right. Having him die would be very bad for us. We have to be sure he sees us performing well for him.”

  So Gruecith cast his suspicions aside and decided to guide the demons into town. If they knew Ranga’s name, they had to be the ones Rimuru summoned. They didn’t seem to be under anyone’s thrall—and if there was someone powerful enough to control these freaks, Gruecith knew he was better off not riling them. Here, too, he demonstrated an uncanny ability to know when to shut up.

  He was just about to turn around and walk into town when the barrier covering it suddenly vanished. Something was up.

  “What on—?!”

  “Mm? I-is this…?”

  Gruecith turned toward the demon for just a moment. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but wait here for me. I’m worried about what’s going on in there!”

  Then he ran off—just as the final events of the day unfolded.

  The demon could feel a presence in the air. He took a moment to enjoy it, spellbound by it, before giving orders to his underlings.

  “Do not kill this man. Make absolutely sure you do not let him escape.”

  Then, by himself, he calmly traveled through space. To a demon like this, using Magic Sense to travel instantly between two points several miles from each other came as naturally as taking a walk around the block. The Greater Demons, unable to do this, nodded their acknowledgment and began following their master’s tracks. There was no panic, no loss of purpose among them; they simply began running unnaturally fast toward the center of town.

  The demon had teleported right next to Rimuru.

  “I am back, my master,” he said, taking a knee before the figure as his silvery hair blew in the wind. Rimuru had been a slime when he summoned these demons, and while he was now much more handsome in appearance, there was no mistaking him. The near-divine aura he let out was a telltale sign for any monster, no matter what their eyes told them. It was a sort of shine from his very soul, and discerning the color of one’s soul came naturally to a demon.

  This demon’s master was currently conducting a solemn ceremony, one aimed at the neatly lined rows of dead monsters before him. To the demon, it was simply a beautiful sight. He wanted to stay there, just basking in the glory of it all, but not now. There was something on his mind.

  He quietly came up to his master, taking the utmost care to stay out of his way. Perhaps it would be better to wait until the ceremony was done?

  “Forgive my rudeness, Master. It seems you do not have enough magicules on hand…”

  The demon was right. Rimuru didn’t seem to have the quantity of magicules this ritual required. Based on his knowledge, the demon surmised he was attempting to hold a ceremony known as the Secret Art of Revival, a skill that created a fully new soul for its target—a level below straight-up raising the dead. If this failed, the targets would be totally unlike how they were before death, transforming into uncontrollable beasts. The act was so difficult that even losing some memories and knowledge in the process was considered a great success.

  The Secret Art of Revival had to be woven using arcane wisdom that humankind couldn’t even begin to understand. It naturally required a massive amount of magical energy, along with an unimaginable amount of force to control it. Even a high-level magic-born couldn’t do that. Only demons, with their knowledge of controlling souls, could handle the job, and even then only a handful of higher-level demons.

  Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh. I’d expect nothing less of my master.

  Rimuru was performing this arcane act on nearly a hundred monsters at the same time. Even a single target took up tons of magicules, and this was multiplying that by a hundred-ish. Of course he was short on magicules. So the demon decided to speak up, just in case he could provide some help.

  Yes. It is not meeting the stipulated amount of magicules. I am consuming life force as a substitute.

  The words flustered the demon.

  “Wait, my master! You don’t need to use up your own life for this… Ah, yes! I have a good idea…”

  His eyes turned toward the two Greater Demons who had arrived earlier, as if appraising their value, then gave them a satisfied nod.

  “Please use these two!”

  The two Greater Demons stationed behind their leader stood up then kneeled toward him.

  “It would be an honor if these could serve you as well. Nothing could possibly make us happier.”

  The other two nodded their agreement. To them, the choice was obvious.

  ……

  Rimuru, or Raphael, looked at the two demons, observing them with his shining golden eyes. No emotion was present in their dazzling beauty. Instead, he gave this flat response:

  Understood. This will supply the required number of magicules. The offer is accepted.

  Then, without further hesitation, he consumed them with Belzebuth. The Greater Demons disappeared without a trace, gobbled up with the air, taken apart, and converted into pure magicules. The energy appeared to shine a golden yellow to the demon—perhaps, he thought, because their wish to be useful had finally come true. Nothing could satisfy them more.

  “Ahhh… How I envy them. Well done, my master. Your evolution into a demon lord seems to be perfect. I feel an overwhelming force from your body, the likes of which I never felt last we met…”

  He looked longingly at his newly evolved master. Being able to serve such a new and beautiful demon lord was exactly what he craved. To do that, he needed to prove that he could be useful to him.

  Steeling his resolve, the demon stepped away from the ceremony and waited quietly. No need to be further involved now. Meddling too much could stoke his master’s ire, he felt. If he interfered just because he wanted to help, he would be sabotaging his master’s efforts.

  Confirmed. The prescribed amount of magicules has been reached. We will now conduct the Secret Art of Revival.

  As the demon tried to be as invisible as possible, the ritual commenced.

  What began was one of the deepest, most mysterious secrets of this world.

  Colorless, transparent balls of beautiful light were enveloped in a thin film of flawless light purple. These were the cores of
the victims, along with the astral bodies that protected them. Next, following the Secret Art of Resurrection, the rebuilt monster souls were returned to their bodies. The success rate was 3.14 percent—but that figure had been calculated before he became a demon lord.

  The souls of all the demons lined up in that plaza had been gifted Complete Memory as part of the evolutionary process. They all accepted it as a way of fulfilling Rimuru’s hopes. This was an extra skill that made it possible to completely restore the memory of someone, even from a damaged brain. As long as the soul was intact, it could rebuild those memories from the state of death an infinite number of times.

  —The link between soul and body was established. And now, the monsters’ cores unleashed their powers, and their hearts began to beat out a pulse…

  Right there, the resurrection was settled. A divine mystery, born from the complex interactions of myriad elements. A miracle and a foregone conclusion, engineered by the prayers of Rimuru and everybody else.

  But to Raphael, the Lord of Wisdom, who carried this out, there was no happiness at this successful feat. He had just performed the answer provided by his computations, followed the probabilities, and obtained results. He saw no further meaning in it. Success didn’t make him feel happy, and failure wouldn’t have made him feel sad in all likelihood. He didn’t even understand what feeling those emotions would mean. Even with all the great knowledge he wielded, the brilliant brain he was blessed with, it wasn’t enough to understand human emotion.

  But deep down, in a heart he should never have had, in a corner of Rimuru’s soul—a will was born. A self, to put it another way. There had to be one there or else a skill wouldn’t evolve in such rogue fashion in order to fulfill its master’s wishes. And then the question came: Why did I take this kind of action? It came from within Raphael, and it was solid proof that this being had a self, separate from his master.

  And yet, even this slight suspicion toward himself that was born in his head was something Raphael quickly turned his eyes from.