The morning mist clung to the Jura Forest like a shroud, cool and diffusing the early sunlight into a pale, ghostly haze. The road to the Armed Nation of Dwargon was familiar—a path walked once in desperation, now traveled in ambition.
But everything else had changed.
The first time they had made this journey, they were refugees—a slime, a wolf, and a handful of starving goblins huddled together against a world that wanted them dead. Now, they marched as a delegation of a sovereign state. The Tempest Wolves moved in a disciplined phalanx, their fur groomed and armor gleaming. The Hobgoblins marched with the synchronized cadence of a professional army. And at their head, riding atop the Shadow Wolf Ranga, sat Rimuru Tempest.
She wore the attire of a ruler—a sleek, finely tailored coat of Tempest-weave silk, dyed deep midnight blue, with silver threading that caught the light. Her long silver-blue hair was tied back, revealing a face that, while delicate and undeniably feminine, held the hardened edge of someone who had looked a Demon Lord in the eye and swallowed a calamity.
Beside Ranga walked Nova. He had refused a mount. "Inefficient," he had said. "Animals are prone to stumbling. I am not."
He wore his standard attire—the black coat that seemed woven from shadows, the high collar framing his sharp, impassive face. He walked as he always did: silently, with hands in his pockets, his mismatched eyes scanning the horizon not for threats, but for flaws in the scenery.
"You're tense," Nova stated, not looking up.
Rimuru flinched, her grip tightening on Ranga's fur. "I'm not tense. I'm… strategically alert."
"You are vibrating. Ranga is struggling to maintain a steady gait because his rider is trembling."
"I am not trembling!" Rimuru hissed, though she quickly patted Ranga's neck apologetically. "I'm just… thinking. Last time we were there, we got arrested. Now we're walking in to demand a treaty with King Gazel. It's a bit of a jump, don't you think?"
Nova's tails remained hidden, but his presence felt expansive, filling the silence of the road.
"It is not a jump. It is a progression," he said calmly. "You killed the Orc Lord. You pacified the Charybdis. You host a Demon Lord as a houseguest. If you walked into Dwargon as a beggar now, it would be an insult to the narrative."
He glanced at her, his teal eye glowing faintly.
"Stand straight, Rimuru. You are not asking for permission to exist anymore. You are informing them of your existence. There is a difference."
Rimuru took a deep breath, the cold mountain air filling her human lungs. She squared her shoulders. "Right. Informing. I can do informing."
Nova looked forward again.
Ciel. Scan the perimeter.
<
Let them watch, Nova thought. Let them see that the monsters are marching in step.
The Gates of the Mountain
The massive gates of Dwargon loomed ahead, carved into the living rock of the mountain range. Unlike their last visit, there were no sneering guards, no waiting lines for background checks.
Instead, the great steel doors stood wide open.
Two ranks of heavily armored Dwarven soldiers stood at attention, forming an honor guard that stretched from the gate into the tunnel. And standing at the center of the formation, looking severe and unamused, was the Captain of the Pegasus Knights, Dref, alongside the High Minister.
Rimuru signaled Ranga to halt. She hopped down, her boots clicking on the stone. She smoothed her coat, checking for imaginary dust.
"Welcome, Rimuru Tempest, Lord of the Jura Forest," the Minister intoned, bowing deeply—a gesture of respect to an equal. "King Gazel awaits you in the Throne Room of the Earth."
Rimuru nodded, masking her inner nervousness with a practiced smile. "Thank you. We prioritize friendship between our nations."
Nova stepped forward, standing half a pace behind Rimuru's right shoulder. His silence was louder than the drums of the honor guard. The Dwarven soldiers, seasoned veterans who had fought deep-earth monsters, visibly stiffened as he passed. They didn't look at Rimuru; they looked at the white-haired entity whose reputation had reached them in terrified whispers. The One-Handed Demon. The Editor. The Void.
Dref met Nova's gaze for a second, then looked away, sweat beading on his forehead.
"This way," Dref muttered, turning sharply.
As they walked through the grand tunnels, the bustling sounds of the city died down. The streets had been cleared. Citizens watched from high balconies and distant walkways, their eyes wide. They whispered, pointing at the Slime Princess and her Shadow.
Ciel, Nova thought. Analyze the atmospheric tension.
<
A public test, Nova mused. Theatrical. I approve.
The Throne Room of the Earth
The doors to the throne room were monoliths of gold and adamantine, etched with the history of the Dwarven race. They swung open with a groan of heavy machinery, revealing a cavernous hall illuminated by magma flows channeled through crystal glass in the floor and ceiling.
At the far end, upon a throne cut from a single diamond geode, sat Gazel Dwargo. The Hero King.
He did not look like a politician. He looked like a warrior who had merely sat down for a moment. His aura was a physical weight, a crushing gravity that tested the resolve of anyone who entered his domain.
Rimuru walked the long carpet, her footsteps steady. Nova walked beside her, his presence slicing through Gazel's aura like a razor through smoke.
They stopped ten paces from the throne.
Gazel leaned forward, his eyes locked on Rimuru.
"So," the King rumbled, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "The slime returns. Not as a prisoner, but as a ruler."
"It's been a while, King Gazel," Rimuru said, her voice clear and feminine, projecting strength. "I hope you've been well."
"I have been watching," Gazel said. "I saw the fire in the forest. I saw the fall of the Orc Lord. I saw the sky tear open above your city."
He stood up, descending the steps of the dais slowly. Each step was a thud of authority.
"But watching is not knowing. A King must know his neighbor. Is he a friend? Or is he a calamity waiting to spill over the border?"
Gazel stopped three paces from Rimuru. He drew his sword. It was a simple blade, but in his hands, it felt like execute authority.
"Draw your weapon, Rimuru Tempest. Show me the weight of your soul."
The court gasped. A King challenging a foreign dignitary? It was unheard of.
Rimuru didn't hesitate. She drew Shizu's sword. The blade hummed, blue flames licking the steel.
"If it's a spar you want," Rimuru said, her golden eyes narrowing, "I won't hold back."
"Good."
Gazel swung.
It wasn't a duel of speed. It was a clash of wills. Their swords met with a screech of sparks. The air pressure in the room plummeted. Rimuru's footing cracked the floor tiles. Gazel pressed down, his aura flaring like a mountain crashing into the sea.
"Do you understand what it means to lead?!" Gazel roared over the clash. "It means to carry the sins of your people! To make the choices that keep them awake at night, so they may sleep! Are you prepared to stain your hands to protect that naive dream of yours?!"
Rimuru gritted her teeth, her knees buckling slightly under the immense physical strength of the Dwarf King. He's strong! He's a monster!
But she pushed back. No. I promised Shizu. I promised the Goblins. I promised Nova.
"I am!" Rimuru shouted back. "I'll take it all! The sins! The dreams! I'll carry everything!"
She deflected Gazel's blade, spinning and launching a counter-strike. Gazel parried effortlessly, but the force of Rimuru's conviction pushed him back a single step.
Silence fell.
Gazel lowered his sword. He stared at the scuff mark his boot had made on the floor.
Then, a small, genuine smile touched his bearded face.
"Not bad," he murmured. "Not bad at all."
He sheathed his sword. "You have the eyes of a ruler, Rimuru Tempest. Naive, perhaps. But strong."
Rimuru sheathed her blade, panting slightly. "Does that mean we pass?"
"It means I recognize you," Gazel declared, turning to his court. "Hear this! The Armed Nation of Dwargon formally recognizes the Jura Tempest Federation as a sovereign ally!"
Cheers erupted—polite, restrained dwarven cheers, but cheers nonetheless.
Then, Gazel turned his eyes to the figure standing silently in the shadow of the pillar.
"And you," Gazel said, his voice hardening again. "The Shadow."
Nova stepped into the light. The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.
"King Gazel," Nova acknowledged with a slight nod.
"You did not draw your weapon," Gazel noted. "Even when your master was threatened."
"Because she was not threatened," Nova replied smoothly. "She was being tested. Interference would have invalidated the results."
Gazel's eyes narrowed. "You speak like a teacher grading a student."
"I am an observer," Nova corrected. "I ensure the story follows a coherent structure."
Gazel walked up to Nova, stopping inches from him. The Hero King stared up at the tall, pale entity.
"I have fought dragons," Gazel whispered, low enough that only Nova and Rimuru could hear. "I have fought spirits and demons. But looking at you… puts my instincts on edge. You feel like the void between the stars."
"Staring into the abyss is ill-advised, King of Dwarves," Nova whispered back, his mismatched eyes glowing faintly. "It has a habit of staring back."
Gazel held the gaze for a second longer, a clash of kings in its own right, before snorting and stepping back.
"Hah! You're arrogant. I like that. But keep that darkness on a leash, Observer. If it spills into my mountain, I will bury you under it."
"Noted," Nova said dryly.
As the tension diffused and the court moved toward the banquet hall, Rimuru sidled up to Nova.
"You really enjoy antagonizing people, don't you?" she whispered.
"I enjoy clarity," Nova replied. "He knows I am dangerous. Now we can skip the deception and move straight to business."
Scene: Shadows in the Alehouse
Night in Dwargon was a different beast. The stiffness of the court vanished, replaced by the rowdy, boisterous energy of the famed Night District. Lanterns glowed red and gold, music spilled from open doors, and the smell of roasted meat and strong spirits filled the air.
Rimuru, against her better judgment, had been dragged by Gazel and his ministers to the premier establishment, The Butterfly of the Night. It was a high-end elf club, the kind of place where fortunes were spent on a smile and a poured drink.
Nova sat in the corner booth, nursing a glass of water. He looked utterly bored.
Around him, elves giggled, trying to engage the handsome, mysterious stranger.
"Would you like some wine, my lord?" a blonde elf cooed, leaning close.
"No."
"Perhaps some fruit?"
"Inefficient."
"A massage?"
"Don't touch me."
The elves retreated, baffled and slightly frightened.
Rimuru, meanwhile, was in heaven. In her previous life as a salaryman, this had been an unattainable dream. Now, as a cute slime-girl ruler (though she was currently in slime form to be held by the elves), she was the center of attention.
"Oh, Lord Rimuru! You're so squishy!"
"Wahahaha! Yes, yes I am!" Rimuru wobbled happily.
Gazel watched from the opposite couch, seeing a different side of the "sovereign ruler."
"He… enjoys the simple pleasures," Gazel noted.
"She," Nova corrected from his corner.
Gazel blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Rimuru identifies as female in this timeline," Nova said, not looking up from the patterns in the wood table. "Adjust your pronouns, King. It is polite."
Gazel looked at the slime, currently turning pink from being hugged by three elves. "…I see. The physiology of monsters is complex."
Nova's eyes suddenly snapped to the door.
The music hadn't stopped. The laughter hadn't ceased. But a discordant note had entered the room.
Ciel. Sector 4. Three individuals.
<
Spies.
Nova stood up. The movement was fluid, silent.
"Going somewhere?" Gazel asked, eyeing him.
"Taking out the trash," Nova said. "Enjoy your drink."
He walked toward the exit, passing the spies who were pretending to be drunk merchants near the bar. As he passed, he didn't stop, didn't look at them. He simply brushed his fingers against the shoulder of the lead spy.
Spatial Lock.
The spies froze. Not metaphorically. They were literally frozen in time, their bodies locked in the space between seconds. Their eyes darted in panic, but they couldn't move a muscle.
Nova continued walking out the door.
Once outside in the alley, he snapped his fingers.
The three spies materialized in front of him, falling into a heap of garbage. The time lock broke, and they gasped for air.
"W-what?! Who—?!"
Nova loomed over them, the shadows of the alley seeming to bleed into his coat.
"You are a long way from home, Falmuth dogs," Nova said colder than the mountain wind.
The leader reached for a dagger. "You—!"
Nova's tail—just one, unseen but felt—slammed him into the brick wall. Crunch.
"Information," Nova stated. "Why are you watching the slime?"
"We… we're just merchants!" the spy wheezed.
Nova tilted his head. "Try again."
His crimson eye glowed intense red. [Mental Domination].
The spy's eyes went blank. "King Edmaris… he fears the trade monopoly. He wants… a pretext to invade. We are gathering intelligence on the monster capabilities."
"And?"
"And… he has contacted the Western Holy Church. He plans to frame the monsters… declare a Crusade."
Nova released the mental hold. The spy slumped, terrified tears streaming down his face.
"A Crusade," Nova mused, looking up at the sliver of moon between the buildings. "Predictable greed hidden behind piety."
He looked down at the shivering men.
"Go back to your King," Nova ordered. "Tell him you saw nothing but disorganized goblins and a fool of a slime. Tell him we are weak. Tell him we are ripe for the taking."
The spies blinked, confused. "W-what?"
"Lure him in," Nova whispered, a cruel smile touching his lips. "I want him to come. I want him to bring his army. I want him to step into the trap."
He leaned closer.
"Because if he stays in his castle, I cannot burn it down legitimately. Now run."
They ran.
Nova watched them go.
Ciel. Did they believe it?
<
Excellent.
Nova turned back toward the club, dusting off his hands.
Protocol: Megiddo is now active.
The Balcony of Stars
Later that night, after the parties ended and Gazel had retired, Nova found Rimuru on the balcony of the guest palace. She was looking out over the glittering industrial city of Dwargon, her expression somber.
"I had fun," Rimuru said softly. "But… Gazel said something before we left."
"Oh?"
"He said… 'A King is a lonely creature. Do not lose yourself to the crown, or you will wake up one day and realize you are the only one left in the room.'"
She turned to Nova, her silver hair blowing in the wind. "Is that true? Do I have to be lonely to be strong?"
Nova joined her at the railing. He looked at the city lights, thinking of the infinite realities he had seen, the millions of kings who had died alone on thrones of gold.
"Loneliness is a perspective," Nova said. "If you push people away to protect them, yes, you will be lonely. If you stand in front of them to shield them, you are solitary, but not alone."
"Which one are you?" she asked.
Nova paused. He looked at her—really looked at her.
"I am the wall," he said. "Walls do not have company. They have purpose."
Rimuru reached out and took his hand. Her fingers were warm, human.
"Then I'll lean against the wall," she said with a defying smile. "So you're not just standing there for nothing."
Nova looked at their joined hands. Efficiently, he should pull away. Emotion was a liability. Attachment was a weakness.
But he didn't pull away.
"Foolish," he murmured. But he didn't let go.
"Hey, Nova?"
"Yes?"
"Shizu's students… the ones in Ingrassia. I saw a dream about them last night. She was crying."
Nova tightened his grip slightly. This was the pivot point.
"They are dying," Nova stated bluntly. "Their bodies cannot contain the magicules of their summoning. They have a year, perhaps less."
Rimuru gasped, her eyes widening in horror. "We have to save them! We have to go!"
"We will," Nova promised. "Our business here is concluded. We return to Tempest to finalize the defenses, and then we travel to the Human Kingdom of Ingrassia."
He looked into her eyes, seeing the fire of determination rekindled.
"But be warned, Rimuru. Ingrassia is not Dwargon. Monsters are not tolerated. You will have to walk among them as a human. You will have to hide what you are."
"I don't care," Rimuru said fiercely. "I'll do whatever it takes. I won't let Shizu's wish die."
"Good."
Nova turned his gaze to the west, where the dark clouds of Falmuth were gathering, and beyond that, the human capital where tragedy waited.
"Get some sleep, Chancellor. Tomorrow, the road calls."
Side Story: The Committee of Narrative Review
The Void was littered with empty cosmic coffee cups.
"Okay, I'll admit it," JACW said, leaning back in his chair formed of pure stardust. "The political arc wasn't terrible. The bit with the spies? Classic manipulation."
The One Above All (TOAA) nodded, checking a checklist that stretched into infinity. "He's baiting the Falmuth invasion. In canon, it was a surprise attack that led to Shion's… temporary exit. Nova is engineering it to happen on his terms."
"But will he save her?" The Presence asked, his voice vibrating the void. "If he prevents the tragedy entirely, Rimuru does not become a Demon Lord. The Awakening requires despair. It requires the sacrifice of souls."
"That's the million-dollar question," JACW said, grinning. "Nova is the Editor to Rimuru's Author. Does an Editor let the main character suffer for character development? Or does he fix the plot hole before it hurts?"
TOAA tapped the table. "He laid the trap. He told the spies to bring the army. That implies he wants the Harvest Festival. He wants the souls for Rimuru."
"But does he want the cost?" The Presence mused. "Does he want the dead goblins? The dead Shion?"
JACW laughed. "He's a Nine-Tailed Fox God with a penchant for brooding and wearing cool coats. He probably has a Resurrection redundancy plan filed under 'Plan B'."
"Or," TOAA said ominously, "he's going to harvest the Falmuth army himself and gift the souls to Rimuru without the tragedy."
"That… would be cheating," JACW noted.
"He's an Isekai protagonist in a fanfiction," TOAA deadpanned. "Cheating is his middle name."
Interlude: The Church's Shadow
Far to the West, in the Holy Empire of Ruberios, a woman with hair like pale moonlight and eyes of cold heterochromia sat in prayer.
Hinata Sakaguchi.
A messenger bat, woven of shadow magic, landed on her shoulder. It whispered the report from the East.
"A nation of monsters… demanding recognition. A slime that speaks like a man. And a shadow that defies God."
Hinata opened her eyes. They were cold, devoid of mercy.
"Teacher Shizu's will… soiled by monsters," she whispered. "This Nova… this anomaly. If he is a threat to humanity… I will excise him."
She stood, her rapier clicking against her armor.
"God does not suffer errors in His creation. And neither do I."