Morning After Naming
I stood in the center of the newly-constructed village plaza, surrounded by evolved monsters who looked at me with worshipful devotion.
This is going to be a problem if I don't establish proper structure now.
Eighty-two Hobgoblins. One hundred and eight Tempest Wolves. All of them waiting for my orders.
Can't micromanage everything. Need delegation.
"Rigurd," I called out.
The elder—now a powerful Hobgoblin in his prime—stepped forward immediately.
"Yes, Rimuru-sama!"
"I hereby appoint you Goblin Lord. It will be your job to keep this village well-run and well-governed."
Silence.
Then—
"Y-yes, Rimuru-sama!! I promise you that I, Rigurd, will devote myself body and soul to this vital post!!"
Tears streamed down his face.
Why is he crying? I just gave him a massive workload.
But I understood. To him, this was trust. Responsibility. A position of honor.
"Good. You'll handle day-to-day operations. Construction. Food gathering. Defense rotations. Everything."
"I will not fail you!"
"I know you won't."
I turned to address the assembled monsters.
"Listen up, everyone. We're building something here. Not just a village—a community. A place where monsters can live in peace. But that requires rules."
They listened intently.
"First rule: Don't attack humans unless they attack you first."
Can't have them starting conflicts randomly.
"But," I continued, my voice hardening, "if humans—or anyone—attacks you, defend yourselves. Be the enemy of those who want to be your enemy. Don't start fights. But if someone brings violence to your doorstep, you end it."
Rigurd nodded firmly. "We understand, Rimuru-sama. Self-defense is permitted. Aggression is not."
"Exactly. Second rule: No internal conflicts. You're all part of the same community now. Goblins, wolves—doesn't matter. You work together."
The Tempest Wolves and Hobgoblins exchanged glances. Some looked uncertain, but most seemed accepting.
"Third rule: Don't look down on other species. You all just evolved. Don't let that go to your heads. Strength is earned, not given. Act with humility."
Preventing superiority complexes before they start.
"Those are the foundations. Rigurd will establish more specific laws as needed. Follow them."
"Yes, Rimuru-sama!" they chorused.
Good. Now for assignments.
"Ranga," I called.
The massive Tempest Star Wolf approached.
Master.
"You and six other wolves will handle security patrols. Keep the perimeter safe. Use [Thought Communication] to coordinate."
It shall be done.
"Rigur, you'll lead the construction teams. Work with Rigurd to prioritize building projects."
"Yes, sir!"
I continued assigning roles—food gathering, crafting, scouting, training.
Establishing infrastructure. Making sure they can function without me.
Because I had other plans.
"Rigurd, I'll be traveling to the Dwarven Kingdom. We need proper tools, clothing, and materials. I'm taking Gobta as a guide."
"Of course, Rimuru-sama! I'll prepare supplies immediately!"
And now... the real reason I'm going.
I needed to check if canon was still on track.
King Gazel Dwargo. Kaijin the blacksmith. The events that would unfold in Dwargon.
If I'm going to use my meta-knowledge effectively, I need to confirm the timeline hasn't shifted too much.
Departure - Next Afternoon
Rigurd had prepared everything.
Currency—what little the goblins had collected from defeated adventurers. A small pouch of copper and silver coins.
Supplies—dried meat, water, basic travel gear.
And a guide—Gobta, nervously clutching his new sword.
"R-Rimuru-sama! I won't let you down!"
He's going to be comic relief, isn't he?
But he knew the route. That was enough.
"Rigur wanted to come too," Rigurd mentioned, "but I convinced him his skills were better used here."
Good. Don't need an entire entourage.
Ranga approached.
Master, I should accompany you.
"No. I need you here protecting the village. Besides..." I glanced at Gobta. "...we'll be traveling discreetly. A three-meter wolf would attract attention."
...Understood. Please return safely.
"I will."
Day 1 - Journey Begins
We set off southwest, following the path Gobta had taken before.
"It took me two months to reach Dwargon last time, Rimuru-sama," Gobta explained nervously. "But that was before I evolved! Now I can run much faster!"
Two months at goblin speed. Three days at Hobgoblin speed.
Or...
I activated [Air Manipulation].
The atmosphere around us shifted. Wind currents formed, flowing in the direction of our travel.
Then I added [Molecular Manipulation].
The air molecules between us and our destination—I adjusted them. Reduced their density. Decreased atmospheric resistance.
The effect was immediate.
Gobta suddenly lurched forward as wind assistance kicked in.
"Wh-whoa!"
We weren't just running anymore.
We were gliding.
The wind carried us forward like we were surfing on air currents. Every step covered three times the normal distance. Friction practically disappeared.
"This is amazing, Rimuru-sama! We're flying!"
Not quite flying. More like... wind-assisted super-running.
But it worked.
"At this rate," I calculated aloud, "we'll reach Dwargon in two days instead of two months."
"Incredible!"
As we traveled, I turned my attention inward.
Raphael.
＜＜Yes, Master?＞＞
Status update on the weapon modifications.
＜＜Venuzdunoa and Ame-no-Ohabari Magisteel integration process: 23% complete. Current approach: Incorporating magisteel at the atomic level within existing weapon matrices. Estimated completion: 47 days.＞＞
Good. Continue.
＜＜Acknowledged.＞＞
The sealed weapons—my sword of destruction and spear of heaven—were being enhanced without me even touching them.
Raphael worked in the background constantly, using the magisteel I'd absorbed in the cave to reinforce their fundamental structures.
When I finally unseal them, they'll be even stronger than before.
But that was passive work.
I had active research to conduct.
Raphael, let's continue our discussion about aspectual magic and the phenomenon of slashing.
＜＜Acknowledged. Resuming theoretical analysis.＞＞
Aspectual Magic Theory - The Absolute Slash
«Report. Analysis of "Aspectual Magic" in relation to localized spatial interference is complete.»
"Okay, Raphael," I thought, leaning back in my mental chair. "We've seen plenty of cutting attacks—water blades, vacuum waves, even my own Melt Slash. But I want something... different. I want to recreate the concept of 'Slashing' as an objective reality. Not a projectile, but a pre-determined 'cut' that exists across a designated coordinate. Like an invisible script the world has to follow."
«Understood. You are seeking to manifest the 'Concept of Severance' without the travel time of a physical medium. To achieve this via Aspectual Magic, we must bypass the standard Law Manipulation of 'Fluidity' or 'Atmosphere' and target the 'Space-Time' aspect directly.»
"Right," I replied, catching the drift. "If I use a vacuum blade, the enemy can feel the air move. If I use a water jet, they can see the pressure. But if the 'slash' is just a mathematical instruction applied to a coordinate—like Sukuna's Cleave or Dismantle—there's nothing to dodge. It just... happens. How do we stabilize that into a Skill?"
«Inquiry: How should the skill differentiate between targets? Standard Severance applies equal force to all matter. To recreate the desired effect, a variable must be introduced.»
"Let's break it down into two archetypes," I proposed. "First: 'Sever.' A standard adjustment. It targets inanimate objects or beings with static defensive ratings. It's a fixed-output slash. Second: 'Dissect.' This one needs to be adaptive. It should adjust its output based on the target's magicule density and toughness. If they're durable, the slash becomes sharper. It should guarantee a cut regardless of the 'hardness' of the physical body."
«Calculation complete. To implement 'Dissect,' the skill must perform a 'Millisecond Appraisal' via the Soul Corridor or Magic Sense before the strike. By measuring the target's Internal Information Value, the Aspectual Magic will then rewrite the local Laws of Physics to ensure the 'Structural Integrity' of the target is always lower than the 'Severing Force' of the slash.»
"Whoa, so it's not just a sharp knife," I muttered. "It's literally telling the universe: 'For this specific second, this guy's neck is as soft as butter, and my invisible line is as hard as a diamond.'"
«Precisely. However, the energy cost for rewriting laws is significant. To optimize this into a permanent Skill, I recommend anchoring the concept to the 'Attribute of Void.' By utilizing the Essence of Beelzebuth, we can ensure that the matter 'severed' is not just cut, but consumed or displaced into the Imaginary Space. This prevents biological regeneration from re-attaching the wound instantly.»
"That's brutal. I love it. So, what's the final theoretical framework?"
«Proposed Skill Name: [Slaughterhouse].» «Method: Aspectual Spatial Severance.» «Logic: The user designates a 'Domain of Influence.' Within this range, the user projects 'Invisible Scripts'—lines of intent. Upon activation, the law of 'Spatial Continuity' is suspended along those lines. The result is an instantaneous severance that ignores traditional durability.»
"And the 'Coriolis Force' or 'Centripetal Pressure' we discussed earlier for the water sphere?" I asked. "Can we apply that rotation to the slashes? Make them spin like invisible, microscopic buzzsaws?"
«Affirmative. By adding a 'Rotational Vector' to the Aspectual Magic, the slashes will not only cut but grind the target at a molecular level. The 'Glitches' in the target's defense will be exploited by the rapid oscillation of the spatial gap.»
"Perfect. It's a lag-spike in the world's physics. By the time the world realizes the space shouldn't be broken, the target is already in pieces."
«Commencing final optimization of the Skill [Slaughterhouse]. Would you like to designate a test subject within the Imaginary Space? Veldora-sama is currently available.»
"Wait, no! Don't use Veldora! He'll just complain that I'm 'spoiling' the new manga he's reading!"
Day 2 - Continued Research
"Rimuru-sama, can I ask you something?"
Gobta's nervous voice interrupted my meditation.
"What?"
"You've been... glowing? Sometimes? Like, little flashes of light around you?"
Oh. Experimental side effects.
"Just practicing magic. Don't worry about it."
"O-okay!"
I'd been running micro-experiments all morning.
Tiny slashes. Millimeter-scale spatial severances. Testing different approaches.
Some worked better than others.
"Rimuru-sama! Look!"
Gobta pointed ahead excitedly.
Mountains.
Massive peaks rising in the distance, their slopes dotted with structures.
And carved into the largest mountain—a city.
Dwargon.
The Armed Nation of the Dwarves.
Right on schedule. Three days, just like canon.
"Tell me about this place, Gobta," I said casually.
Make sure the details match.
"Y-yes, sir! That's the Armed Nation of Dwargon! Their leader is King Gazel Dwargo—the Heroic King!"
Gazel. Good. Canon intact.
"Heroic King?"
"He's the third in his line! His grandfather was Guran Dwargo, who founded the kingdom a thousand years ago! King Gazel is said to be just as mighty!"
A thousand years. Dwarven lifespans are ridiculous.
"And they allow monsters inside?"
"Yes, sir! As long as there's no fighting! The king prohibits all conflict within the city walls. Anyone who breaks that rule faces the full might of the dwarven army!"
Neutral ground. Perfect for trade.
"What about the guards? Are they strict?"
"Very strict, sir! They check everyone. But they're fair. As long as you follow the rules, you can enter."
Which means we need to look non-threatening.
Time to use that trick.
As we approached the gate, I activated two skills simultaneously.
[Light Manipulation] + [Illusion Magic].
The principle was simple.
Light refraction for invisibility—bending light around myself so observers' eyes registered empty space.
Then illusion magic to create a replacement image.
Not of a slime.
Of a human.
A young man. Average height. Brown hair. Unremarkable features. Wearing simple traveler's clothes. [ What he doesn't realize is his essence won't let that happen ]
The illusion overlaid my actual form perfectly.
Gobta got similar treatment—transformed from a Hobgoblin into a human youth.
"Wh-what?!" He looked down at his hands—or rather, the illusion of human hands. "Rimuru-sama, what did you do?!"
"Made us look human. Less trouble this way."
"But... but this is incredible! How—"
"Quiet. Just act natural."
We joined the line at the left gate.
The security checkpoint was thorough. Guards in full plate armor examined each person, checking luggage, asking questions.
When our turn came, the guard looked us over with a practiced eye.
"Purpose of visit?"
"Trade," I said simply. "Looking to buy tools and materials."
"Weapons?"
"None."
The guard checked our bags—nothing suspicious, just basic supplies.
"Entry fee is five copper per person."
I handed over ten copper coins I made after analyzing the coins in Rigurd's stash
The guard stamped our entry passes and waved us through.
That easy.
We stepped through the gate into Dwargon proper.
And the sight took my breath away.
Inside Dwargon
The city was magnificent, carved entirely into the mountain's heart. Streets were paved with smooth stone, and magical crystals bathed the caverns in a soft, artificial noon.
"Amazing, isn't it?" Gobta whispered. "Yeah."
But I wasn't just here to sightsee. I was here for Kaijin.
As we moved toward the industrial quarter, the air grew thick with the scent of coal and the rhythmic scream of metal on metal. When I finally pushed open the heavy doors of Kaijin's Forge, the noise died instantly.
Three dwarves stood within. One, older with a magnificent gray beard, froze mid-swing. He didn't yell for us to leave. He didn't even ask our business. He just stared.
To them, I didn't look like a simple traveler. My presence carried an unintentional, divine weight—the effortless charm of a "God's Child." I looked less like a customer and more like a visiting saint.
"Welcome," Kaijin said, his gruff voice losing its edge. "What... what would you like?"
"I know the burden you're carrying, Kaijin," I said softly. "The twenty Magisteel blades for the Minister. The impossible deadline. The lack of materials."
Kaijin's eyes widened. He didn't even think to question how I knew. In the face of someone who looked like a divine messenger, secrets felt like they belonged to me anyway. "I have one blade finished," he gestured weakly to a sword on the table. "But the ore... there is no more. I'm ruined."
"Not today," I replied.
I walked to the table and picked up the single completed blade. Its Magisteel core pulsed with a faint blue light.
"Watch."
I didn't use a hammer. I didn't use a bellows. I simply let my hand ripple, and the sword disappeared into my palm. Kaijin and his brothers, Garm and Dold, gasped, stepping back in a mix of awe and confusion.
"What are you—"
I turned to the empty crates and waved my hand. With a series of sharp, metallic clangs, nineteen identical blades materialized out of thin air, tumbling into the straw. Each was a perfect, molecular replica of the original—flawless, Sharp, and radiating high-grade Magisteel energy.
The forge fell into a heavy, stunned silence. The "saint" had just performed a miracle.
"Who... what are you?" Kaijin whispered.
I walked over to the shop doors and slid the iron bolts home. I turned back to them, the divine, handsome mask of my human form shimmering.
"I'm a man of many faces," I said.
In a flash of azure light, my body lost its shape. I shrank, rounded out, and settled onto the floor as a translucent, squishy blue sphere.
"But mostly," I said, my voice projecting from my slime body, "I'm just a Slime named Rimuru."
I waited for the scream. I waited for them to call for the guards. Instead, Kaijin let out a roar of laughter that shook the rafters.
"A Slime!?" he bellowed, his face turning bright red with joy. "A Slime with the aura of a god and the skills of a master smith! Garm, Dold! Do you see this? We aren't just saved—we've been visited by a legend!"
Garm didn't look winded or scared; he looked absolutely delighted, reaching out to poke my side with a grin. "And he's a bouncy little fellow, too!"
"Rimuru, was it?" Kaijin wiped a tear of laughter from his eye. "To hell with the Minister. A miracle like this calls for a celebration. Put your human skin back on—we're taking you to the Butterflies. Tonight, you don't pay for a single drop!"
END OF CHAPTER 22