"So, basically, there isn't a single good person in any of these families..."
Inside the hotel room, Rimuru groaned.
He had been analyzing the political landscape based on the memories he'd just sorted. The conclusion was depressing.
"Why the hell did I have to come to this world?!"
He flopped onto the bed, burying his face in the expensive duvet and rolling around in misery.
Thanks to the Great Sage, he had finally organized his background story. The Sage had turned his mind into a "Memory Palace", literally organizing the fragmented shards of the original owner's life into a neat, browseable library.
But reading his own "resume" didn't bring him any comfort.
In fact, the backstory on this character sheet was so tragic and convoluted that Rimuru felt a phantom pain in his nether regions. It was a kick in the balls, metaphorically speaking.
"Great Sage, you're a lifesaver," he muttered into the pillow. "But man, this script sucks."
And precisely because of that, after reading his own file, Rimuru had only one thought, Why the hell didn't I just claim amnesia?!
His name was Rimuru Tempest. A Lecturer at the Clock Tower. A law-abiding, well-behaved citizen who kept his nose clean.
Technically, he was a Transmigrator. But his vessel? This body was a born-and-bred native of this world.
Though, Rimuru had to wonder: how did a slime-based lineage end up in the Fate universe? Apparently, the Tempest family was a prestigious clan that had passed down its crest for over a dozen generations, only to tragically wither away until he was the sole survivor.
He was just a standard, traditional Magus. Well... "standard" might be the wrong word. Because his stat sheet was ridiculous.
Dual Elemental Affinity: Water and Imaginary Numbers.
Magic Circuits: 173. And they were high quality.
"Can someone please explain to me," Rimuru buried his face in his hands, "why I am childhood friends with May Riddell Archelot and Alice Kuonji?!"
Hiss.
If his memories didn't explicitly confirm that his predecessor couldn't see the future, Rimuru would have sworn he had possessed a fellow Transmigrator. The Tempest family had old ties with the Archelots, which explained the connection, but still...
He had stepped right into the main cast!
And it got worse. Rimuru was stunned to discover that he was a participant in the Night of the Witches.
If he hadn't been male, the legends of that night wouldn't have just featured "Robin" (the Tale Witch) and "Coal" (the Industrial Witch). History would have recorded a third: Rimuru, the Water Witch.
Incredible power. Massive fame.
With a starting setup this broken, how was he still just a lowly Lecturer?
Rimuru searched his memories but found nothing concrete. He could only chalk it up to his original owner personality, indifferent, lazy, and uninterested in the rat race.
"Rank: Brand (Color). Refused the title of 'Blue' to avoid sharing it with Aozaki Aoko. Unilaterally changed his designated color to 'Black'..."
Wow.
If he didn't have the backing of two major Witch bloodlines, and if Aoko hadn't been there to draw all the aggro, this kind of arrogant behavior would have earned him a Sealing Designation instantly.
Even so, the world had given him nicknames: "The Blue Lecturer" and "The Fairy Tale Lord."
The latter was because, for over a decade following his family's destruction, he had isolated himself in his grief. He refused social interaction, refused political maneuvering, and lived like a reclusive lord in a fairy tale.
Also... because he didn't grow up.
Literally.
Rimuru extended a small hand, examining the smooth, pale skin. It was delicate, soft, completely indistinguishable from a young girl's. This was his Slime body, sure, but it was also the natural state of this body.
"Okay," Rimuru muttered, "so I have top-tier fame, top-tier power, and a high social status. The starting point is excellent."
But...
He rolled around on the bed again, staring gloomily at his reflection in the darkened window.
"The destruction of the Tempest family definitely wasn't an accident. There's a conspiracy here. The other factions in the Clock Tower probably kicked the family while they were down."
And now, rumors were flying that he was about to be promoted to a full Professor.
That was the spark in the powder keg. If he became a Professor, it signaled that he was ready to reclaim the seat that had belonged to the Tempest family for generations.
A Lord's Seat.
The problem? The twelve seats of the Lords were currently full.
The math was simple. If he wanted to sit down, someone else had to stand up. Or, more likely, he would have to pick one of the current twelve monarchs and drag them off their throne by force.
Even if Rimuru didn't want to fight, they would come for him. In the Clock Tower, "I don't want it" isn't a valid defense when your existence alone threatens someone's power.
And then there was the issue of his appearance.
For years, people had speculated on why he stopped aging.
Alice Kuonji and May Riddell still looked seventeen. That was fine; one was a pure-blooded Witch, and the other was the Lord of the Botany Department (which specialized in Witchcraft and potions). No one questioned a potion brewer having an elixir of youth.
Aoko Aozaki also stayed young. That was also fine. She wielded the Fifth Magic. As a manipulator of Time, eternal youth was practically a given.
But Rimuru?
Why did he look like a twelve-year-old?
But what about me? Where is justice in that?!
Rimuru felt a profound sense of despair. He really wanted to grab the collar of someone… whoever and scream, "Why?!"
Who in their right mind doesn't want to be tall? If he had stopped aging at seventeen or eighteen, he wouldn't have complained. That's the prime of youth! But to be stuck looking like a thirteen or fourteen-year-old brat? Who could accept that?!
Every time he spoke to someone, he had to crane his neck up.
A few years ago, when Aozaki Aoko visited the Clock Tower to "go shopping", she didn't just turn the place upside down. She treated him like a mascot as she then patted him on the head.
The two of them had never gotten along. Even now, sifting through the memories, Rimuru could feel the residual grudge of his predecessor. It was so thick it was almost physical.
Of course, that was the old Rimuru's baggage. The current Rimuru didn't actually care that much about his height… But the real problem wasn't the height itself. It was the implication.
Wasn't it a bit excessive for the entire world to assume he had attained True Magic just because he was short?
The whole world is out to get me!
It was no wonder his predecessor had kept such a low profile all these years. Living under the constant scrutiny of mages guessing whether or not you were a sorcerer capable of warping reality... the pressure must have been insane.
And that brought him back to the biggest mystery. He needed to figure out the relationship between himself, his predecessor, and the Slime.
Did the original Rimuru die, allowing Earth-Rimuru to get into the body? Or was he always a transmigrator who had just now awakened his past life's memories?
Regardless of the answer, one thing was certain: A Slime, and its ridiculous skill set, should not exist in the Nasuverse.
….
What do you guys think about mass releasing?!
-yes
-no