Chapter 3: The Leveraged Out
I am currently hovering two inches off the floor using a minimal magicule output, because I refuse to touch "public" stone.
"Man, we really messed up, huh?" Rimuru sighs, oozing into a corner.
"Speak for yourself," I reply. "I've already appraised the bars. High-quality magic steel. If we're here long enough, I might just 'liquidate' the door."
The silence of the dungeon is broken by the rhythmic clank of heavy boots. It's not the guards from the gate. These footsteps have the weight of someone who actually has a budget to manage.
Notice. Captain-class entity approaching. Magicule signature: Stable. Suggestion: Cease levitation to minimize perceived threat level.
Negative, Azathoth. My internal 'brand' is luxury. I am not touching this floor. If he wants me to look like a prisoner, he can provide a velvet cushion.
A dwarf with a scarred face and a gaze like sharpened flint stops in front of our cell. Kaido. The captain of the guard. He's holding a small tray with two glass vials containing a shimmering blue liquid.
"You lot caused quite a stir," Kaido grunts, his eyes narrowing as he looks at me—the dark, floating orb—and then at Rimuru. "Those thugs you beat up are still whining. But these potions... they're high-grade. Where did a couple of slimes get these?"
Rimuru bounces excitedly. "Oh! I made those! I've got plenty more if you need them."
Observation. Rimuru is devaluing his primary asset by offering it freely. Amateur.
"They're 99% purity," I pulse, my voice cutting through Rimuru's optimism like a foreclosure notice. "Market-disrupting quality. In my world, we'd call this a monopoly. I suggest you treat the 'manufacturers' with a bit more hospitality before the price triples."
Kaido barks a laugh, but his eyes remain wary. "Funny talk for a blob in a cage. But I'm not here for a lecture. My brother, Kaijin, is in a bind. He needs materials and talent to fulfill a royal order of magic-steel swords. If you're as good as these potions suggest, maybe we can work out a settlement."
Target Identified: Kaijin. Opportunity: High-grade material acquisition and political leverage.
"A settlement?" I ripple, my tone flat. "You mean a contract. Rimuru, the Captain is offering us an out. But we don't move for free."
"Right!" Rimuru says, catching on. "We can help your brother! Just get us out of here!"
Kaido unlocks the cell. The iron door screeches—a sound that vibrates through my body and makes my internal Deadpool want to file a noise complaint with the city council.
"Follow me," Kaido says. "And keep the 'economic pressure' to a minimum. You're still technically in custody."
We are led through the winding, torch-lit tunnels of Dwargon toward the industrial district. The air grows warmer, thick with the scent of coal and the metallic tang of heated iron. It's loud, chaotic, and entirely lacking in air conditioning.
We finally stop in front of a forge that looks like it hasn't seen a cleaning crew since the Founding Era. A massive dwarf is hunched over an anvil, surrounded by half-finished blades and a pile of raw, unrefined magic-steel ore.
"Kaijin!" Kaido yells. "I brought you some... unconventional help."
The blacksmith looks up, wiping soot from his brow. He looks stressed. He looks like a man who is behind on his quarterly projections.
"Slimes?" Kaijin scoffs. "Kaido, I need master smiths, not mascot characters. I have twenty swords to deliver by tomorrow or Vesta will have my head."
I float forward, my dark surface reflecting the orange glow of the furnace.
"You don't need smiths," I pulse. "You need a supply chain miracle."
[Analytical Appraisal]
Scanning Magic-Steel Ore... Resolution: Low. Composition: High magicule conductivity, 40% impurities. Synthesis requirements: High-pressure refinement.
"Rimuru," I transmit privately. "He needs twenty swords. You have the storage and the mimicry. I have the quality control. If we do this, we don't just get out of jail—we own the favor of the finest smith in the mountain."
"Got it, Shinji! Leave the 'making' to me!"
Rimuru hops toward the pile of ore. "Hey, Mr. Kaijin! If I give you the swords, will you help us out with some gear and maybe a place to stay?"
Kaijin looks at the blue slime, then at me. "If you can produce twenty 'B' grade magic-steel swords by sunrise, I'll give you whatever you want."
"Careful," I pulse, my internal persona grinning. "I'm very good at 'wanting' things."
[Luxury Manifestation]
I don't manifest a sword. Instead, I manifest a single, pristine, white silk handkerchief I once owned in my past life, using it to 'wipe' a speck of soot off my surface before it can settle.
"Let's begin the transaction," I announce. "Rimuru, eat the ore. I'll handle the specs."
Current Magicule Reserves: 99.5%. Location: Kaijin's Forge. Status: Executing contract.
Chapter End.