"...Where are my clothes?"
First words I muttered the moment I snapped awake, and no, I didn't say it calmly.
Unlike Rimuru—who had the luxury of playing slime-cell sudoku while unconscious—I actually sleep. Like a functioning biological being. When I'm out, I'm out. That meant no magic perception, no active skills, and worst of all, no defense against any… personal grooming by curious goblins.
I just hope, if I was wiped down while asleep, at least let it have been by women.
A flick of the wrist, a pulse of magicule-weaving, and soft silk threads wrapped around my form—bandage-like, sleek, white. Comfortable, minimal. More mummy-chic than tunic-wearing sage.
I stepped outside the tent.
And was met with a sight that could only be described as—hell's army on a parade.
The goblins had evolved, alright. Some were five feet. Others towered at six. And the rare few hit seven. I'm six foot even. So seeing hobgoblins look down on me was not only unnatural, it was offensive.
Was boobs a necesarry evolution though...
But the wolves—oh no, they were worse.
Towering. Muscular. Shimmering with crackling magicules. The biggest of them all stood up front, regal and radiating power.
Sixteen feet long. Horned. Eyes that glowed with intelligence.
"My Master!!" the beast boomed in fluent human speech, voice thundering across the clearing. "How it elates me to see you well once more!"
"Ah, Ranga." I smiled thinly, hiding the twitch in my brow. "I see you and your pack have evolved successfully. Very nice. Very terrifying."
Ranga's tail wagged. That tail, for the record, generated a mini-gale and launched Gobta into orbit.
Poor bastard.
"MASTER," came a stern, rumbling voice behind him—Fenral, regal and towering, his obsidian coat gleaming, crimson mane glowing like embers. He stepped forward, the wooden platform creaking under his weight.
"Control your tail, you insolent pup of mine. You stand before the Master, not a rabbit to impress. Sit. Straighten your back. Head low. You represent me now, Ranga. Do it properly."
"Y-yes, Lord Fenral!" Ranga immediately straightened, folding his legs and bowing his massive head. "Forgive me!"
I had to stifle a grin. Fenral was the best and worst thing to ever happen to me. An overly disciplined, loyal-to-the-death military commander with the bite of a drill sergeant and the attitude of a samurai.
He and Ranga had evolved differently.
While canon Ranga was a tempest wolf, born purely from storm and lightning, this Ranga absorbed traces of Fenral's abyssal essence during the naming. My magicules and Veldora's coiled around his instincts, but Fenral's presence tempered the outcome. The result?
Not just lightning. But shadow and thunder.
He could control the shadows around him, chain attacks through warps, and coat his thunder with darkness to pierce barriers. A predator now honed for assassination and blitzkrieg alike.
Ranga, the Shadow-Fanged Thunderwolf.
I created a monster... again.
"Where's Rigurd?" I asked, hoping to distract myself.
"Here I am, Rimuru-sama!!"
I turned—and promptly screamed.
"HOLY F—WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?!"
He was tall. He was ripped. He was nine feet tall and flexing at me like he was modeling for Goblin GQ.
"Thanks to your divine name, I have evolved, Rimuru-sama!" he announced proudly, like his biceps weren't wider than my torso.
"Rigurd…"
"Yes, my lord?"
"Are you absolutely certain you're not half-troll?"
"Nonsense! I am a pure-blooded Hobgoblin!"
...Okay, maybe Gobzilla is more appropriate. I let it go. Questioning this world's evolution logic was a one-way ticket to madness.
The feast that followed was excessive.
Mountains of food. Goblins eating like nobles. Direwolves sharing roasted prey in civilized portions. We'd won. We'd evolved. We were stronger than ever.
And yes, I was still irked by the lack of proper clothing. I understood now why Rimuru was so happy to meet Shuna. Looking at goblin boobs while trying to maintain a sense of leadership was not fun.
That night, we celebrated.
The next day? We got to business.
I gathered them all.
"Alright," I began. "Thanks for showing up. We've got a lot to deal with, but we start with three rules."
I raised a hand, fingers unfurling.
"One. Don't attack humans. Two. Don't fight your friends. Three. Don't look down on others."
Simple.
"Excuse me, Sir Rimuru?" Rigur piped up. "Why no fighting humans?"
Fenral growled. Rigurd glared.
I sighed. "Valid question. Simple answer: because if we attack them, they'll come back with more people and burn us to the ground. I like humans. I'm not suicidal."
I paused.
"…But, if they attack us. Then we'll fire back, no mercy. Got that!?" I declared.
That got a few awed gasps and resolute agreements making me nod happily.
I went on to explain our next priorities—shelter, clothes, food security—and formally appointed Rigurd as acting Goblin Lord. He cried. Again. That man could out-weep a romance heroine.
"Don't let the title get to your head," I warned. "You're not a king. You're the people's spine. Keep them standing."
"YES, RIMURU-SAMA! I WILL DEDICATE MY VERY LIFE!"
Please don't. I need you for the paperwork.
Our biggest hurdle was construction. I knew jack about building houses beyond Minecraft logic. Thankfully—
Bless you, Great Sage. You beautiful, overly literal soul.
"Rigurd, there's a dwarven kingdom nearby, yes?"
"Ah! As expected of Rimuru-sama, to sense the presence of its great king!"
I rolled my eyes. "Sure. Anyway, I'll be visiting them soon. Prepare the arrangements."
He nodded and sprinted off, shouting orders like a man possessed.
I stood there, watching the people bustle, the wolves prepare hunting teams, and the newly evolved society begin its first steps.
Everything was in motion.
Soon, I'd meet her.
Shizu.
This time, I'd save her.