That Time I Got Isekai’d Again and Befriended a Slime

"I would hate to interrupt you. The pain of being bothered when I don't want to be, how could I subject you to that?" Tanya pulled away slightly, amused and warm. "Be more careful, though."

Her palm came away, until just her fingertips lingered on the small of Shuna's back. The warmth of their connected shoulders disappeared. It was almost imperceptible, but Tanya lingered, just a fraction of a fraction of a second.

Shuna had told the truth earlier. About loving and hating, then loving and loving. She did love and hate this. Not just the touch, but the reason behind it.

A question. Why was it that, the moment Tanya allowed herself to relax the slightest bit, to let her walls lower just the tiniest amount, did she feel the need touch so much?

It was obvious enough.

And that… Shuna hated that. She hated that no one ever saw the truth, or that they never acted on it. That Tanya had never been in the right situation, had never been allowed to soften herself enough to where such a thing was possible.

Internally, she cursed everyone from Tanya's past. Did they not understand? Or perhaps they had loved Tanya. Just not enough.

These ones, Shuna would curse doubly so.

Oh well. It was their loss, and her gain. She would not lie and claim her feelings were entirely altruistic. Far from it. Never forget that she herself was not human.

"Wait."

But what Shuna was, was in love. And they both deserved to be a little selfish, didn't they?

Tanya paused. Shuna knew her expression without looking. A slight raise of an eyebrow, a faint curious tinge to her gaze.

Shuna sighed, incredibly fond and a little sad.

"How was your work today?" An invitation. "I could tell you were in good spirits this morning." Usually, Tanya only stayed for a single cup coffee before heading out, but that morning she'd stayed for two. "Have you made good progress on your formulae? I'm curious."

Tanya drifted back in, back to her previous position, the warmth returning.

A subtle manipulation. Shuna could do it too. And she hadn't lied. She was curious. And very, very much in love.

She'd chosen her path. No matter what pain the future may hold, it would be bearable. Because she was right here.

She would always be right here.

-=-=-=-

Dawn

 Gravity Field

Tempest, Jura Tempest Federation

Burn. Scorch. Storm.

Ignite. Babylon.

A swirling, spiraling sea of flame. The muted pink-rose sky of pre-dawn illuminated in shattered fractal shades of blue. A hurricane, a tsunami, it was a natural disaster of unnatural flame that roared across the clearing's edges.

Cobalt shadows danced across the leaves, flickering images and darting shades shining through the gaps and along the bright veins and dark branches. Flowing heat, waves and force on dynamic scale.

Yet, not a single lick of flame stepped out of line, so much as singed any part of the surrounding forest. This blazing natural disaster was self-contained, perfectly controlled. Absolute order. Not a spec of magic was wasted. Not an inch of forest was damaged, despite the roaring inferno endlessly teasing it like a coy lover.

Faster. Faster. Faster.

Level One. Level Two. Level Three. Level Four.

Did it matter? Tetrabattery Limit Enhancement. What a mouthful. What a raw deal of a power, to limit and damage the host. Now, they all bled together, the power of one hardly distinguishable from the former or latter.

Power had changed; control had not.

Power, control, choice… oh, how they bled as one.

A vicious cycle defined her life to now. Since that one fateful encounter, not one moment had allowed her to lay down arms. War was Hell, but what use was Heaven if He sat up above on his ivory tower?

So be it. She had no intention of truly dying – that is to say, of ceasing to exist – until the time was right. The existence that was "Tanya" would not cease to be until such a time that she had lived the peaceful life stolen and continually denied to her

If the achievement of such required her to continue to fight, then she would fight until the end of time itself. Such was her conviction for a proper ending.

The Flames of Babylon ripped the air asunder. Their nature spat in the face of the divine. Their heat burned beyond the literal, the real. Even the ashes of the gods would be rendered null.

Tanya stood at the center of it all.

She was not in the eye of the storm. She was the eye of the storm.

Her eyes glowed a vibrant blue green, an electric teal. Otherwise, the blue flames illuminated her form. The evolution of TLE into Tetra Breaker had improved her efficiency. Her power no longer bled through the surface, making itself visible as it did before.

It was fitting. Just as the Levels of power no longer were distinct, so too was her own use of them. Good. The less obvious her strength, the more difficult for a foe to combat it.

Though, it had looked pretty cool.

The storm raged on. It was a furious ring, or more accurately a donut, with Tanya in the empty area. Inside, the heat was immense, but manageable.

They were her flames. Hers. They could never burn her.

Still, her tank top had been discarded nearby, soaked through with sweat as it was, leaving her with the bandages wrapping over her chest and shoulders like a sports bra, black shorts, and bright, sporty-looking shoes. Casual summer attire.

Sometimes, Tanya lamented the fact that going truly shirtless in certain scenarios – such as at the beach, or when working out – had become a lost art for her after her first life.

There were a few things to lament about shifting into a different body, actually. Sexism, though the Imperial military had largely been devoid of that, despite the time period. Menstruation – though she hadn't been troubled by it since arriving here, oddly enough – for another. Being shorter, the cherry on top.

That being said, it had taken until her third life to be able to look in a mirror and actually like and feel comfortable with what she saw, and that was… something she tried not to think too much about, honestly. There was a word for that somewhere. Probably, she didn't know.

She digressed.

Despite her mind wandering, the storm had remained strong and controlled. A testament to her Will.

Tanya inhaled slowly, holding it for a moment. It was hot in her lungs, the magicules excited and buzzing. It felt… not bad, and not really odd either. Just interesting. She'd long since gotten used to it.

She exhaled, and the open, un-flamed space exploded into activity.

In front of her, dark teal and wispy black energy swirled in a single spot for a single moment in time. The night-black blade of Seizon shot free like a cannon, slicing the air down. Just before it impaled the earth, space magic whirled above the grass, and Seizon darted through, back into Tanya's pocket space.

Another swirl of magic appeared over her shoulder. Seizon shot forth, forward, then disappeared into a misty twirl of magic yet again, an instant before impacting the wall of blue flames.

This continued, again and again, for a period of time that may have been 30 seconds or 30 minutes, and through a variety of points and at a variety of angles best described as "beyond dangerous". A whirlwind of black magisteel, formed by a single blade, contained within the natural disaster of the gale-force Babylonian inferno.

The noise, if you could call the perception through Magic Sense "noise", was deafening. Crackling flame, cutting wind, zipping steel. They could be heard and felt, in the physical sense and through the supernatural Sense, growing and rushing and crashing in a brilliant crescendo, rising and falling and growing and growing until-!

"Break."

The world fell silent, as if craning in, forcing itself down, just to hear her speak.

The Flames of Babylon were gone, Seizon sheathed in magical space. Tanya turned on her heel, walking to her discarded tank top. The sweat had evaporated. She threw it on, then continued walking.

Behind her, the early morning sun fully crested the horizon, bringing in the new day.

She would fight, as needed to reach her desired end. But Tanya had long since tired of the fight. And, in the in-between, when the world deigned it fit for her to rest a little, well… how did one take up a mantle they'd discarded?

When did perseverance shift from a strength to an unfortunate habit? Did "moving forward, ever forward" get her through the tough times… or had it merely kept her in them?

Had the path she'd taken ever been the right one?

…

Well, it had led her here, hadn't it? That had to count for something.

-=-=-=-

Night

Unmarked Facility

Kingdom of Ingrassia

Rivulets of liquid shadow drenched trails in the golden sand.

An army of dissipating corpses drifted to dark wisps on a nonexistent breeze, and an army more continued to struggle, desperate against all desperation. A sea of bestial bodies yowled and swarmed, waves of dark dripping claws and fangs crashing in their own wake, fighting, overpowering.

Trying, and failing.

There it was.

A flash in the darkened chamber. A golden glint, faster than average perception. Sharpened death parting the shade sea; a modern-day miracle.

That man-who-was-not-a-man slipped through the gaps, striking weak points, killing indiscriminately, efficiently. A twirl, the singing of gold, the air to slow to keep up. A gash in the shadows, an entire wave of amalgamated beasts gone in less than a heartbeat.

Slash. Swirl. Whirlwind.

A storm of his own making, for he was the storm itself.

How long had this gone on? He couldn't say.

The army never ended. It was of his own making. As long as they tormented him, he would kill them. Spirit Shades formed and split, dripping from his shadow and sewn by his aura. He had no control over it, not really.

He had no choice but to continue. It mattered not how long it took. How long he fought. It could have been 30 seconds, or 30 minutes. It could have been eternity.

As if his own creations could ever hurt him.

Though how desperately they wanted to. They were products of his hatred, after all. Hatred for his enemy. Hatred for himself. It stands to reason that they would seek to destroy he who had gifted them such miserable existence.

They could not even touch him.

The fire within him scorched their bestial, irrational rage into nothing. His spear cut them down before their grasping, crashing forms drew within breathing distance.

It was not enough.

It was never enough.

If he could manage this, then what good were these creatures? An endless army, reduced to their component parts. Gone, reduced to spirits and spiritrons in the span of a sigh. Long gone were the days of one-on-one bouts.

Yet, what did that strength really mean if it wasn't enough.

This army was paper mâché to anyone that mattered. These spirit shades, such as Lycaon, were mere bastardized beasts crafted from the corpses of Lesser Spirits and continually copied and reproduced via the tattered remnants of his Unique Skill.

They were the prototype of Nin Gen's own shades. Though, it seemed Drake's were superior, as they did not need a biological base, nor was their power limited by the component parts. Shades were – had been – better at independent action, however. That was one thing Nin had improved upon.

Not that it mattered. Drake cared little for recreating shadowed memories, even assuming the power to do so had not died with his son.

At the end of the day, fodder was fodder.

He needed to be strong himself. He needed to create strength. He had already created it, once.

As if sensing the mere hint of the thought, a great length stirred along the chamber's far wall. Madness-evoking shadow, an unnatural being, the cracked, bleeding carapace of the great rainbow serpent twisted back into some phantasmagoric Frankenstein's monster of a spirit shade.

A last resort. It was his own, but he dared not rely on it. It could not be relied upon. He'd poured too much into the creature. A vicious cycle defined its existence; such was the nature of the ouroboros.

Such was his path going forward. There would be no turning back.

Drake stood up straight, the blood of his creations dripping down his muscled form, sweat trailing alongside it. His shadow bled no more.

"Oi! No need to be so fucking dramatic, yeah?"

Drake spun his spear in his hands, viscous slabs of vantablack gunk and trails of liquid vomit-y shadow flying off at the speed of it. That done, he stabbed it blade first into the sand, leaning against it and brushing back his spiky salt-pepper bangs with a hand.

"Tear." He spoke, his voice rough from disuse. His mouth was dry, as was his expression.

"Drake-y." Tear responded, deepening her voice in an obvious attempt to mock him. She cleared her throat, bouncing over to him. "How've ya been?"

"The same."

"Nah, that's a lie. I've been watching ya for like an hour."

"I thought so. Is there a reason you're interrupting me now, instead of earlier?"

Tear tilted her head. Despite the mask, Drake could tell her expression. Half contemplative, half joking. And with a hint of concern that he didn't deserve.

"Nope!"

"Right." Drake waved her off, pushing off his spear. "Then leave."

"Not so fast, Drake-y. I've got something you'd like to hear."

"Is it, 'I'm leaving right now'?"

That one actually seemed to deflate the clown a little bit. Drake felt a pang of at irritation at himself, them forcibly shoved it down. This was his friend, wasn't it? Shouldn't she understand?

Shouldn't he understand?

He sighed, flicking a piece of shadow from his shoulder. "Fine. Tell me."

"That's what I like to hear!" Tear perked up. "I've got a solution for you!"

"A solution? To what problem?"

"Yeah. A solution. You're all worried about our little Demon Lord Seed friend, aren't ya? You know, you should give yourself more credit. You're about Octavius's level already; he'd approve. Hell, you'd beat him easy with another trick and month or two. If he were still around."

Drake's grip on his spear went white knuckled. "Yet, he's not around. His approval is of no concern."

"Sure, sure. Aye, summon another one of them Lyca-whatzits for me."

It formed by the time she'd finished speaking, melting from his shadow. This one resembled his favored version of Lycaon as a Lieutenant General in the Xerxes military. Much more refined, far less of a dripping mess. Not that the appearance meant all that much.

Drake blinked, and Tear was standing atop Lycaon's shoulders, inspecting it all over.

"Nice, nice." She pat it on the head, pulled back its eyelid to inspect inside, then nodded to herself. "Now… kabow!"

Tear jumped forward and spun in midair, a spinning heel kick blasting a gaping hole through the Lycaon's torso. It dissipated, dead before it could hit the ground.

"See that!" She landed, bouncing once then standing in place. "They're way too weak!"

"Yes, I'm well aware."

"Obviously, you need stronger ones."

"Obviously." Drake sighed.

"Cool, cool. We're on the same page. So, make them."

"…excuse me?"

Tear pointed in his face. Though, given that she was much shorter than him, she had to reach up on her tippy toes to even get close to doing so. "I said, make stronger ones! I can't believe you haven't thought of this already. Just make stronger spirit shades! Then, you don't gotta worry about them getting bulldozed."

Drake sighed again, and for not the first time contemplated taking up smoking.

"Please don't insult me. Of course, I've thought about it. But it is not that simple. Even with my affinity, summoning anything above Lesser Spirits is impossible here. I don't have the time, or the materials. And you know already that my ability to alter them has dwindled, since…"

"Yeah, stop right there. I know." Tear dropped her hand, placing both of them on her hips. "But maybe you don't gotta alter them all that much. And maybe you don't need to summon them here."

"There's no other option, Tear." Drake shook his head, anger flaring. "I don't have time for any trips. I don't have the opportunity to ride over to Dwargon or the Empire and reach out to old allies."

"Alright, I understand the problem. But, think about it this way, then." Tear leaned in. Drake found himself leaning down a bit as well. "What if I said you ain't gotta worry about time? What if I told you there's a handy dandy little method to get you back as soon as can be?"

"Is there a method?"

"Well, sort of. It'll take a bit to get there; I'll have to side-teleport ya myself, and that's not perfect with two people. Plus I'm gone as soon as we get there. Busy gal, you know? But don't worry your big head. Something special's waiting for ya; I can promise the trip back will be instant."

Drake inhaled and held it for a moment. That was... incredibly suspicious. He exhaled. "…How long?"

"Yeah, now you're interested. I like that look in your eye, Drake-y. It's a hell of a lot more familiar than whatever the hell these past few months have been." Tear shook her head. "If we leave tonight, we can get there by morning. And like I said, the trip back will be instant. So, what d'ya say, friend?"

Tear disappeared, popping back above him and draping herself over his shoulders.

"You know what you've got to do, right? Remember though, this is a one-time for the here and now. This is a "sooner than later" opportunity. Clayman's little play is only a couple months out, don'tcha know?"

His golden opportunity. Yeah, Drake knew. Oh, how he'd been counting down the days with equal excitement and dread. There was something terrifying to behold about knowing your dreams would either shatter to less than shards or reforge fully anew.

"Sooner than later" opportunity, huh? Compared to a single night and day of training, such a thing obviously outweighed them in value. And, if they were going where he suspected… then he stood to gain far more from this than it would cost.

A certain burn flared up in his heart, spiritual flame igniting the cracks of a wounded soul.

That's it, then.

He nodded.

"Good." Underneath her mask, Drake just knew Tear was smiling. "Drake, how do you feel about paying a visit to the Dwelling of Spirits?"

-=-=-=-=-=-

Known Skills List

Tanya:

Common Skill: Thought Communication

Extra Skill: Flames of Babylon

Extra Skill: Magic Sense

Extra Skill: Magic Aura

Extra Skill: Voice of the World Communication

Unique Skill: Tetra Breaker

Mary:

Common Skill: Thought Communication

Extra Skill: Magic Sense

Extra Skill: Magic Aura

Extra/Intrinsic Skill: Physical Enhancement

Unique Skill: Ability Severance