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

An irritating presence tickles along the back of her senses. She doesn't acknowledge it though, not even in her thoughts. But she knows. He's watching again.

The glow in her eye shifts.

If Being X realizes, he'll destroy her. And even if he suspects, as long as he doesn't have any reason to act, it'll be possible to proceed.

So, it's only obvious that she should pretend otherwise. Act as though she's clueless, or grasping for clues.

Usually, it'd be impossible to lie to him. It shouldn't have worked. But it did.

According to that other Deity, a third Death should have evaporated her soul. But it didn't.

And… they called her "Star".

It's all so very unlikely. Impossible. But here she is.

It's as if, to her very existence, "impossible" doesn't mean all that much anymore.

I'm sorry, but I can't stay here. I have to get back to them. No matter what it takes. And…

…

…I might not be alone. 

-<>-<>-=-=-

Meanwhile…

Gone. Alone.

Her tears had dried up. There's nothing left, now. She's just… empty.

Or so she thought. Then…

"…there's… one more thing." Benimaru holds out his arms, something balanced over his palms. "When we found her and my sister… this was lodged in her chest."

It's a spear, with a crack just underneath the head. A golden, blood-stained spear.

And the feeling… oh, the feeling, at that sight. 

It's like being engulfed in flame.

-=-

Oh god…

She's dead. That's right, people die. I'd almost forgotten we could... I never even thought of her dying. It was so impossible to me. But she's there, and I'm…

I'm a murderer. She didn't just die. I killed her. I might as well have. 

That's… oh god. 

Drake's spear. Drake of Scylla. That bastard.

I let him go. At the Dwelling, I practically let him go.

I…

This is all my fault.

This is all my fucking fault. 

-=-=-=-

There's a lot of work that needs to be done, and no one is exactly happy to do it. No one is happy about anything right now, though. So, that's a given.

Half of Tempest is destroyed or nearly destroyed, the fires started by the invaders left to run rampant while Tempest's citizens evaded to safe spaces. The smoke has dissipated by the evening, though the taste and smell of it lingers in the air.

Most of the damage starts from the plaza, and around the main street leading to Tempest's western gate. The silver lining to this is that the commercial sections took the worst hit. Residential areas are damaged, as the phrase "spread like a wildfire" exists for a reason, but much of it is superficial.

At least, there's an attempt to put a positive spin on it. The truth is, a lot of people are going to sleep without homes tonight. A lot more are going to wake up to damaged livelihoods.

The foremost concern, even before war, is preparations for moving forward. How do we move forward from this?

Managing logistics, politics, providing supplies to the least fortunate… preparing for a counterattack.

That last one waits until tomorrow, once Rimuru and the Executives have a better grasp on the overall situation. He, Rigurd, and Benimaru are organizing what they can. They've all had a long day, and it won't end anytime soon.

Shion assists as a go between, taking to her secretary duties with a seriousness rarely seen. Rigur rallies the Goblin Riders, setting up a supply chain and directing them to safehouses with the food and water they can salvage from their largely untouched storehouses. Haruna works alongside Rigurd, connecting with the merchants and taking note of the worst of the damage around Tempest's central plaza.

The fountain is cracked around one side of the edges, water leaking into the street. The little stone statue of Rimuru in slime form that used to sit on top is now several meters away on the street, scratched and upside-down.

There are dried blood stains in a concerning number of places. Haruna marks it all down on a small notebook Rimuru provided. She glances near the center of the plaza, where a particularly large bloodstain rests. She is grateful, though, that they'd moved the body.

It's hard to look your savior in their eyes when they're dead, after all.

Everyone else with any semblance of strength or energy pitches in. Fulfilling their roles in the aftermath of a tragedy.

-=-

As an Executive herself, Mary should technically be helping out. No one dares to ask her if she wants to.

I'm going to kill him.

At some point, they'd moved her to the Assembly Hall.

Or rather, Mary had done so.

There was hesitance even in moving the body, initially, due to an unfamiliarity with the upcoming ritual. Maybe she needs to be right there, just in case. But then again, they'd already moved her once, hadn't they?

After that, Benimaru retrieves a blanket, wrapping it around the body. Mary is the one to carry it. Kaijin sets up a tent, his brothers set up a cot and a stool inside, and Mary lays Tanya to rest in her new abode just outside the Assembly Hall, in the courtyard.

Just in case, they keep the body outside of the building.

Just in case, Mary stays with her. Inside the tent, on the stool, which is just next to the cot.

At her feet rests that cursed, golden, bloodstained spear.

I'm going to kill him. 

Vaguely, she recalls a story about the spear that pierced the side of Jesus on the cross. It stabbed into his torso, and water poured out. Probably. Maybe there's some sort of metaphor or allegory to be found in that. He turned water into wine, and his blood is also wine, and so the water is so and so and whatever and who really gives a shit.

It's just relevant to her, because Jesus came back after he got stabbed and died.

So, you know. It might be poetic or something.

I'm going to kill him. 

It doesn't matter if they bring Tanya back.

That doesn't change the fact that Drake is going to die. Rabid dogs deserve to be put down. If he misses his son so badly, well, she certainly won't leave his body in enough pieces for them to reunite in Hell. But they can at least convene in spirit about how badly they'd fucked up.

Mary leans forward, elbows on her knees. Her hands are clasped, her right wrapped around the fingers of her left, and her eyes are locked on that damn spear.

How often had she made the mistake of caring for someone, only for them to be cruelly ripped away from her? Her father, her mother, Bibi, herself-

She knows exactly how desperate the death of a loved one can make you. She knows it far too well. It tugs at her ungently, the vicious, dirty claws of an animal raking against her insides, scratching indents into her ribs and sternum like a rusty nail against a chalkboard.  

Does that excuse Drake's actions? No, of course not. They'd never excused her own. Just made them understandable.

Does she hate him?

Aren't they the same?

No. Of course not.

Does it matter where one begins and the other ends? She's going to kill him. There's no doubt in her mind that this is true.

She loathes him, with such a burning passion that it scorches the back of her throat. Dizziness sways her, and she wants to throw up, but even if she could it wouldn't come out.

Does she hate him?

Isn't this familiar?

She remembers exactly when she'd last felt this way.

It tastes like blood and bile going down. It tastes like malignance and ink and vomit-soaked rags, and the aftertaste isn't just disgusting, but a curse. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy. It's suicide.

But it's not the same.

"Make no mistake. I don't like you. Not one bit. You, or at least, your previous self, represented everything I hate in humanity."

Yeah, that's right. Would you still feel that way now? Seeing me right now, would you still think I've changed? 

Would you still hate me?

I want to represent what you love in humanity. I'm going to do what I can with my own power. 

Her mind is made up. It's not right to say she's calm. Nor can she claim to be unconflicted.

In fact, the very core of her being is writhing and wroth with those disgusting, dangerous, powerful emotions she'd once let consume her. Once, they carved her open from the inside, picking and choosing which pieces she'd be left with to rebuild herself from scratch.

It burnt, and it burns. And yet it does not consume her. She will not let it. Not this time.

Does it matter? Is this any different?

What waits for her at the end of this?

The truth?

Maybe she's been blaming God, Being X, whatever for her own actions this whole time. Maybe she's always been this way, just a disgusting mixing pot of suffering and misery and death, ready to pour down on everyone around her like a castle guard pouring boiling tar on anyone desperate or daring enough to break through her castle walls.

Maybe. Probably not.

But then again, maybe she really has changed for the better. Maybe she really can move forward. No, not maybe.

Nothing is going to stop her.

Her aura simmers, neon green sparks dancing over her shoulders. She stares down at that spear of his. Her eyes unseeing yet seeing. The energy crawls over her senses, ebbing and flowing in familiar patterns.

She can taste it. Smell it. Just inside her chest, past her scalding, carved ribs and scorched lungs, there's a faint twinge. Mary holds out her hand, just above it, eyes glowing neon. Tugging at the feeling, the Unique energy of Ability Severance ebbing and flowing in her iron grip, molding and shaping and-

…

Something clicks inside her soul. Like the last puzzle piece slotting in correctly, finally.

…

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Blood trickles from her nose, a drop, dropssplattering harmlessly against the road's grey stone.

In her outstretched hand is Drake's spear. She hadn't picked it up, but there it is in her hand.

Drip. Drip-

She has to believe in herself. She has to believe that there is another ending. It shouldn't be possible. She shouldn't be able to continue, not after everything. But she can't stop now.

Not now.

It's one thing to feel despair. It's another to abandon hope. Indeed, true strength comes from feeling despair and deciding to hope anyway. It comes from within.

But with or without that, she is going to kill Drake with her own two hands.

-=-

Later, early in the night is when Shuna regains consciousness.

Mary is at her side. Neither of them speaks.

Shuna keeps her eyes shut, for as long as she can bear.

Just five… no, ten more minutes. I was having the most wonderful dream. 

What could they say to each other? Lament their mutual loss? Say 'I'm sorry'?

What can they possibly do other than breathe a weary sigh, for in a single day, their world had shattered right before their very eyes. There is a piece of them missing, ripped away and thrown just outside the room.

Tanya can't be dead. She can't. She's exactly the kind of person who won't die when they should. She must be, just… elsewhere, for a little while. Right?

Mary sits on the edge of the bed, back facing her. She stares straight ahead. At the wall just next to the door, at nothing in particular. Her leg bounces nervously, her fingers holding something between them.

Her heightened senses must be able to hear Shuna's heartrate. Her leg bounces faster, and her cheek twitches. She shifts but doesn't look back.

When the void in her heart remains, Shuna lets out a weary sigh. She opens her eyes and sits up, scooting back against the headboard of the infirmary bed, staring down at her hands in her lap.

At some point during her rest, Haruna had changed her out of her shredded, stained kimono top. But, under her fingernails, on her palms, she can still feel Tanya's blood. As if it were fresh.

It burns.

"Where's-" Her voice cracks, dry and aching in the back of her throat.

Mary jumps a bit, then without a word, she hands over a glass of water. The surface is just barely frozen over, handprint around the glass itself forming in the water vapor. Super-chilled with aura, clearly.

Shuna takes it with both hands, her fingers still shaky. She drinks in sips, slowly, her stomach rolling. The sickness just inside her abdomen, just under her sternum, has nothing to do with illness. But it is sickening, nonetheless.

Tanya is… she's…

"Gone." Mary says into the darkness, clasping her hands together. White-knuckled, as if in some damaged facsimile of prayer.

…right. That's… right, that's why-

The glass in her hands cracks quietly.

She's- she can't be- but I saw her- she's really g-

"That's what you said. I don't know if you remember." Mary continues, tonelessly. She glances back. "But you were wrong."

What?

"What…?" Shuna breathes. Her grip lessens subconsciously, and if it had thoughts, the glass of water would heave a sigh of relief.

Shuna looks up. Her pink hair is a messy halo about her, with dark circles in bruising underlines under her eyes. And honestly, Mary's hair isn't much better, better looking now purely because it's shorter. Her usual side bang braids are undone, though, and the spiky hair along the back of her head looks like it's had hands running roughly through the strands.

They're both a tattered mess right now, but there's a gleam in Mary's eyes.

"Tanya's dead." Blunt, and if she told you she'd said that without issue, she'd be lying. Mary winces as she says it, like tasting something foul. "You know that better than me. For god's sake, you were there and I- only arrived after. So, I won't lie to you. Tanya is dead."

If things were different, she might still be alive. It hurts knowing that, maybe, possibly, if they were just a little better, if they'd tried a little harder… this wouldn't have happened.

But in the end, they were both nonfactors. They couldn't have done anything. Not really.

"But she isn't gone."

Mary's hands shake, so she clasps them even tighter. Her lungs and ribcage are scorched, raw, but she begins to tell Shuna what happened while the Kijin was unconscious.

About Rimuru's and Mary's arrival. About her coming here, to this makeshift infirmary, and about what Shuna herself had said between conscious and unconscious states.

About… well, she glosses over her discovery of Tanya's body. That's… not something she can discuss right now. Or ever.

And she skips over the part right after, where she'd almost…

She talks about the next part. About the arrival of Eren and her group. About how Eren isn't actually human, but demi-human. An elf. An elf princess? Mary hadn't paid much attention to that part, admittedly.

She cared more about Eren's story. "A fairy tale about resurrection from the dead."

If she notices that Shuna has stopped breathing upon hearing this, that she's frozen, her attention rapt and her mind clearly racing… well, Mary understands better than anyone.

She continues.

-=-

Once upon a time, there was a little girl. The daughter of the first of the four True Dragons, and the daughter of a human. She was the first, and until now the only, Dragonoid. 

This girl, composed of the majority of that True Dragon's power, would be lonely one day. The True Dragon knew this, for in giving his power to her, he could not persist in the physical World forever. So, with his remaining strength, he crystallized it, and created something else.

A little dragon companion, a baby. A gift. And with this gift, he left this World for somewhere in-between. No longer able to interact with those in it directly. Not without great strife. 

Thus, the Dragonoid girl and her little dragon companion were left behind. But they were not alone, for they had each other. And though her father no longer persisted in physical form, he watched over them from beyond. 

Thus, they could not be lonely. 

Until one day, the worst came to pass.

The World at this time was hardly a peaceful one. Rules and order of law were kept only through strength and fear. But no one dared lay hands on the realm inhabited by the first of the True Dragons, for fear of being wiped from existence. 

No one dared fight at all.

But, as is typically the case, fear soon outweighed the desire for peace. 

And, with the departure of the first True Dragon…

One nation chose to step forward. Great, yet afraid of dwindling in power, their fear fed their ambitions, and they drew their swords in the name peace. In a singular attempt on seizing control of the first and only Dragonoid, they attacked.

And in the process, killed her little dragon companion. 

By nightfall of the next day, that great, fearful nation was gone. Wiped from existence by her stampeding rage. And she raged, and raged. And she did not stop until, through the combined efforts of a True Demon Lord and the Queen of Fairies, her sanity returned to her. 

And then, countless souls left in her wake… she awakened as a True Demon Lord herself. 

-=-

Mary tells Shuna about how that Dragonoid girl, in the process of becoming a Demon Lord, brought that little dragon back to life. She tells her how that little dragon was resurrected, but without its soul, it resurrected wrong. It became an incarnation of Chaos. A wicked being with no will to call its own.

"…but, if it still had its soul…" Shuna says, breathless. She picks up on it immediately, her mind racing to the next logical conclusion.

"Yeah. Eren said that too." Mary's leg has stopped bouncing. She's gone still, eyes glowing in the dim light of the room. "Tempest is enclosed in two barriers. Or… three, now. I checked them out all out. They don't let anything magic-related in. Or out."

According to the story, according to Eren, resurrection magic exists, and it can be used.

According to Rimuru, the probability of a soul remaining trapped within the barriers is 3.14%.

Barely more than 3%. There's the smallest, most unlikely possibility.

"She's not gone." Mary squeezes her hands together so tightly that her knuckles pop. "There's a chance…"

Shuna sobs. Mary flinches, turning quickly to make sure she's alright-

"Don't be silly." Shuna says, tear tracks running down her cheeks. But she's smiling. "You should know better than I do, Mary. If it's a chance to live when she shouldn't, it might as well be 100 percent. Right?"

Mary wants to sob with her.

She's right.

Oh, wait. Mary unclasps her hands, reaching up to touch her own cheek.

She's already crying too.

Because there's a chance, and honestly, can you even call something guaranteed a mere "chance"?

But even if the possibility was near zero, as long as it isn't zero…

To be honest, this is the only reason Mary is still in Tempest. It's the only reason she can suppress that uncomfortable blaze, that dark voice in her subconscious telling her to go, find, KILL HIM-

Because, maybe, for the first time… maybe someone else won't leave first. She'll come back.

She has to come back. She's going to come back. 

It takes everything within Mary to not breakdown. She wants to believe. So desperately that she aches for it. She latches onto that possibility with greedy, trembling hands.

And Shuna is with her. She believes more than even Mary had, initially.

She believes in Tanya. In that stubbornness, in that selfish desire to return.

And, perhaps, she believes in Rimuru's power. If anyone can put a soul and a body back together, he can.

Although...

Mary wonders, for the first time (but not the last), just how much damage was caused by hers and Rimuru's departure. By the consequences of their absence. If… or rather, when Tanya comes back, what's going to happen?

Can they really just go back to the way they were before?

"As long as you don't turn on me, I'll have your back."

"You'll have me until I die, then."

Tanya smiles, and Mary realizes that it's genuine. "I'd rather you didn't die, actually."

It doesn't matter if things change. It doesn't matter if the dream ended.

Next time, she'll make sure to dream it even better. That way, when it inevitably ends, no one will leave unsatisfied. No one will suffer, for leaving will simply be the end of it.

And so…

You're going to live, Tanya. No matter what happens, you have to live too. 

There wasn't enough time before. When someone you love dies, it's a tragedy. Because you'll always wonder at the time you didn't spend together, and at the time you'll never get to spend together.

It's tragic, and it breaks hearts, because the time they spent together wasn't enough at all.

That's right. You don't get to die and stay dead. Even if you're resting peacefully, I don't care. You're coming back to us. You're coming back.

No matter if the odds are 3% or 100%. As long as the possibility of a better future exists, she'll dare to hope for that future. She'll keep moving forward.

Ever forward. So…

"Shuna."

Shuna finishes wiping her tears away. "Yes?"

Mary hesitates. She'd been perfectly willing to do things herself earlier, but maybe a more level-headed perspective might help?

"…what should we do about… him." Mary glances at Drake's spear, propped up in the far corner of the room. She has an answer she wants to hear. "Drake."

The room chills several degrees, despite neither of them using magic of any kind.

"…ah, right. Him."

"I can track him down right now." Mary adds quickly.

"You can?"

"It's a formula- or, well, a spell, that Tanya taught me. Based in his blood."

"Hm." Shuna closes her eyes. "And he was heavily injured… and he couldn't have gotten that far…"

"I wanted to go and kill him myself, but I thought that wouldn't be fair to you."

"You're right. How dare you." Shuna opens her eyes, their usual pink coloring alight with something darker. "At least let me rip out his entrails for you to strangle him with."

Ah. Cooler heads prevail indeed. That only worsens the blaze in Mary's chest, in her gut. And she finds that she doesn't really mind.

"…is what I'd like to say." Shuna sighs. "But one of us needs to stay to watch over Tanya."

Oh. Right, there's the actual insight Mary was looking for. To her shame, she hadn't even thought about that. Too focused on, well, everything elsegoing on.

The burn in her chest wanes, then intensifies. "I'mgoing to kill Drake."

"No, you want to kill Drake." Shuna corrects. The glint in her eyes sharpens. "And so do I. So who gets to leave?"

-=-=-=-

Early Morning, the Next Day

Second Floor Office, Assembly Hall

Tempest, Jura Tempest Federation

"It's true. I am a subordinate of the Demon Lord Clayman."

The office is blank. Technically, it's Shion's, but she never uses it anyway.

The desk has long since been removed. Nearest the window, which has black bars crossing it in a grid-pattern, is a simple cot and side table. On the right side of the room, relative to the door, is a couch. Next to that is a cushioned chair.

"Specifically, I am one of the members of his right hand. Mjurran, the Ring Finger of Clayman's Five Fingers."

Mjurran sits on the bed. Youm and Grucius stand on either side of her, as if they can protect her.

"My mission was to investigate the city of monsters. Youm's group was the simplest way to do so without suspicion."

Rimuru sits in a wooden chair across from her, with Benimaru standing at his shoulder, arms crossed.

"Then, you're relaying this conversation to him as we speak." Rimuru says as a fact, elbow on the chair's armrest and with his cheek resting against his fist.

"No." Mjurran shakes her head. "Underneath these barriers, I am as helpless as an ordinary person. My strength is only magic based."

"Even though you cast that barrier yourself?"

Mjurran nods silently.

Clayman, huh? I remember him. He was involved with Gelmud and the Orc Disaster event. Milim didn't have any kind words for him either. It seems like he has some sort of vendetta against the Forest of Jura. Or maybe, not a vendetta… hey, Great Sage.

Present.

Remind me. How many souls are needed to evolve into a Demon Lord again?

Answer: according to our current knowledge, approximately 10,000 human souls are required.

Hmm… but what defines a human, really? What makes them special? 

Query not recognized. My lord?

No, it's nothing. It's just that this situation, Milim's declaration of war against Carrion, Falmuth's rapid mobilization of a conveniently large force, the specific targeting of Tempest and its Interim Leader… there's something else going on here. But, I don't know. Doesn't that seem a bit much for just one Demon Lord?

Hm…

Well, let's brainstorm a bit more later. Preferably after she 's brought back. There's just something we're missing. What do you say, Great Sage? Have we made Mjurran sweat it out enough?

…query recognized. Answer: I do believe the individual known as Mjurran is growing increasingly nervous at your silence.

Alright then, time for this next part.

"…Clayman left you to die. Figures."

"It's not surprising. Clayman is known for his treatment of his subordinates. He's called the Marionette Master, tugging at his puppets' strings until he doesn't want to play with them anymore."

Behind him, Benimaru shifts. Rimuru gestures for him to speak.

"Why join a master like that, huh?" He says, letting his arms fall to his sides. His voice is rough, and his anger is suppressed, but clear enough. "Someone who discards his people like they're nothing. What could you have gotten out of that?"

"Because I was dying. I spent my entire life alone, persecuted for knowing and mastering magic that others found terrifying. And then, at the end of that lonely existence… he showed up." Mjurran sighs. "I was alone, old… scared. But still, powerful. The knowledge I'd recovered over my life, the knowledge that had been lost, but I still remembered… so, he made me an offer. Time that will not run out, and a body that will not age. Swear loyalty to me, and it is yours."

"So, instead of dying peacefully, but alone," Rimuru leans back, crossing his arms. "You accepted his offer."

Mjurran nods. "I was easy prey. All I'd ever had was my research, anyway. Being able to continue that, with my youth restored and no end in sight? I accepted almost without thought."

"And then what?"

"Clayman offered me a specialty item of his design. The Marionette Heart. Through it, I was turned into a true Majin. In exchange, however, Clayman took my real heart. And with it, my freedom."

"I see." Rimuru tilts his head back, eyes closing. "Yeah, I get it. He could have killed you at any time, if he really wanted. Is that right?"

"It is."

"Hm. Hm. That's a shame. Or, to put it another way…" Rimuru opens his eyes, glaring at her. "You valued your own life over the lives of my people."

"Lord Rimuru-!!!" "Boss-!!!" Grucius and Youm interject. They each take a step forward, purely out of shock.

"Silence, you fools." Benimaru snarls, flames flickering around the fingers of his hand. "Lord Rimuru is passing judgement on her right now. Don't forget that the both of you are next."

"Gurrck-!" The Beastman and man flinch.

"Benimaru."

"My apologies, my Lord." Benimaru bows his head. The flames dissipate.

"No, it's fine. I get it." Rimuru leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and steepling his fingers. "They're still caught up, thinking they're playing hero for the helpless maiden."

Benimaru bows his head in acknowledgment.

Rimuru continues. "Tell me, Mjurran. What reason does Clayman have for provoking me? For what reason did he enable the death- no, the assassination of one of my closest friends?"

Ah, there it is.

Mjurran's façade of calm broke for a second, just then.

So, she's concerned not for her own life now, but for theirs. Or maybe just Youm's. I see.

"This is… just my speculation." Mjurran clears her throat. "The Demon Lord Clayman does not get close, but after 700 years of contact with the man, I can guess that he is… concerned. No, perhaps eager is the better word. He… likely cannot topple the Kingdom of Falmuth by himself. And there has been a growing concern regarding the power shift towards the Forest. To Tempest."

"I am aware." Rimuru deadpans.

Myourmiles, one of the human merchants that frequents Tempest, and who Rimuru had met with personally in Ingrassia in order to learn about the Dwelling if Spirits, had informed him the other day of this fact.

…no, in truth, Tanya herself had brought up the possibility months before. But of course, he'd not given it too much thought at the time. Things were going far too well back then.

Dammit…

"So, Clayman wanted to take advantage of this to, what? Get rid of one of us? Cause destruction for destruction's sake?"

"I'm… not sure, exactly. All I can be sure of is that it was his plan to start a war between Tempest and the Kingdom of Falmuth. For what end, I cannot say."

Clayman is a Demon Lord, isn't he? If his only goal was mindless death and bloodshed, then I could see that being the end of it. But everything we know about him implies something beyond that. He's a Puppet Master, sticking his fingers in so many different places. There's definitely something more here… what comes from war, exactly? Innovation? Certainly. But more than that, one side loses, and a bunch of people die. So, what's the connection here?

"…I'm not sure what he stands to gain from this war." Mjurran says, bowing her head. "It seems like all he has done is drawn the ire of this nation of monsters, who will no doubt turn their gaze on him once they've won."

"Oh?" Benimaru raises an eyebrow. "You seem confident Falmuth will lose."

"From what I have seen-"

"That's enough." Rimuru raises his hand, and the room falls silent. He points at her, on his other side leaning once more on the armrest of his wooden chair. "No need to think about it more. For your part in the assault on Tempest, and in the assassination of its Interim Leader, you have to die."

Mjurran and Benimaru don't react. The former merely bows her head, and smiles. The latter is stone-faced, though almost… satisfied. He nods to himself.

The other two are not so calm.

"Boss!" Youm jumps to his feet, then nearly collapses. He manages to stand, however. A proof of his determination, perhaps. "Wait, please! Mjurran isn't-"

A blur rushes past him, only to slam into the rightmost wall. The wood paneling cracks but doesn't falter. Grucius, in full Beastman form, lands heavily on one knee just below the impact.

"It's no use Youm!" He coughs, clutching his chest.

Neither of their injuries are fully healed. Wrapped in bandages and soothed with water, yes. Gifted potions? As if. They could bear their self-inflicted pain for awhile longer, was the general consensus.

"He's completely serious! You have to-"

"Do nothing." Benimaru steps on his back, forcing him to the floor. Grucius struggles helplessly against him and gets nowhere. "Stay silent now, Grucius. You'll get your time to speak when we report your misdeeds to Lord Carrion."

"Gah-!" Grucius yowls, and flinches as the force on his back increases. "Run you fool! Get out of here!"

"Tch. I thought I told you to remain silent." Benimaru frowns. "Don't make this harder on yourself. I'm already being forced to abandon my Lord's side to restrain you."

Youm watches with horrified eyes. Rimuru sighs, still in his chair.

"I- shit! Mjurran!" Youm turns, nearly falling. "Mjurran, we need to go!! We have to-"

"Youm." Mjurran cups his face and kisses him.

Rimuru shifts, glancing at the door.

The couple pulls apart after a single, heart-stopping moment.

"I love you, Youm." Mjurran smiles, though it's a little sad. "You are the first one I've truly loved. Thank you. I can never thank you enough… but please, for my sake, don't get tricked by anymore evil women. Okay?"

"Mjurran…"

Rimuru stands, flicking his hand. "Don't worry too much, Youm."

Steel Thread wrapping itself tightly around the man. The thread stug, and suddenly Youm is stuck to the wall, right next to where Benimaru is restraining Grucius.

He panics, then, staring over at the love of his life as she walks to the gallows.

"Boss! My Lord, Rimuru, wait!!!"

"I admire your tenacity, just as I admire Mjurran's resolve. But don't lose heart." Rimuru steps forward, holding his hand out to the side. He shakes his head, almost amused. "Your own trial is next, after all, and I still haven't decided on your punishment for prioritizing a sweetheart over your commitment to my service. Who knows? You might just join her yet."

"What…?" Mjurran's eyes widen.

"Wouldn't that be a nice little love story?"

"Wait, my Lord, you can't-"

"I'm not exactly your Lord, am I Mjurran?" Rimuru flicks his hand, wrapping her in Steel Thread as well. She remains stuck in place in front of him, upright. "Remember, you're a dead woman now. That means you don't get a say."

"No!" Mjurran struggles, for all it's worth. That is to say, nothing. "No, you can't! Not him!"

"Not him, huh? I wonder if you thought this far ahead at any point? Was it when you decided to damn my people? Or perhaps when you assisted in the assassination of one of my close friends and in the burning of my city? No, that's not right. It's clear you didn't think that far ahead at all."

Around Rimuru's hand and wrist alight a purple, unholy swirl of energy.

"My Lord!!!" Youm continues to struggle off to the side. Tears shine in his eyes, and he pleads, and pleads. "I'm begging you, let her live!! I'll do anything you ask!! I'll atone for the rest of my life, take any punishment you come up with!!! So please, let her-"

"Do you think my people begged when they saw those monsters raze my Tempest?"

Rimuru looks into Mjurran's eyes… and stabs her through the heart.

"NO!!!"

A massive swirl of energy bursts through her back, proliferating the air behind her.

Youm collapses in on himself, still held up by the Steel Threads. "Mjurran…! Mjurran…"

Held down by Benimaru, Grucius presses his forehead against the cool wooden floorboard. His eyes are shut tight, and his teeth grind together furiously.

"How dare…"

"…alright, it worked." Rimuru's voice cuts through the depressive air about the room. "Cool."

"Huh?" Mjurran blinks. "I'm… alive?"

Youm and Grucius both look up, shock painted across their tearstained faces.

"HUH???"

"Well, you were dead for a couple seconds." Rimuru waves a hand dismissively and holds out the other. "Had to take this thing out, you know, and replacing it wasn't instant. So like, three seconds maybe?"

In Rimuru's other hand is the shattered remnants of Mjurran's heart. Or rather, they're the shattered fragments of the crystal Marionette Heart.

"Benimaru, you can let him go now."

Benimaru steps away, and Grucius takes in a rattling breath. Meanwhile, Rimuru flicks his hand, undoing the restraints on Mjurran and Youm.

Youm stumbles forward, to Mjurran's side. "B- boss? What's going on?"

"Well, I guess I should explain." Rimuru shows them the crystal fragments. "See this? Yeah, it was wiretapped. It was sending electronic signals out to Clayman. He still had you make regular reports, up until the barriers went up, I imagine, but he didn't need them. Everything you said and that was said around you could be heard through this."

Purple energy swirls around his palm, greedily sucking the crystals in until his hand is empty.

"You were right. Clayman sees his subordinates as nothing more than tools. And now," Rimuru lets his hand drop to his side. "He thinks you're dead. There's nothing tying you to him anymore. I won't apologize for the scare; to be honest, you all deserved it. But without that connection, and the circumstances behind your situation, well… congratulations. You're free."

Mjurran blinks. "Then, this thump in my chest is…?"

"A pseudo-heart. I based it on Clayman's model, though there's no eavesdropping or anything. No strings attached; pun not intended."

"Haha!" Youm throws his arm around her shoulders. "That's great! You can do whatever you-"

The door opens rather abruptly, cutting him off. Rimuru is the only one who doesn't flinch or jerk at the sudden sound.

"I won't say I'm surprised, since I know well the depths of Lord Rimuru's forgiveness."

To everyone's surprise – again, except for Rimuru – Shuna steps inside. She shuts the door behind her, and there's a weight behind that action. Despite the previous good news, this puts the room's occupants back on edge almost immediately.

This time, Rimuru is included in that statement.

"But please forgive me for saying that I am a little… disappointed."

Disappointed is a good way to put it, Rimuru thinks. She looks like she'd rather be elsewhere. She looks... not thunderous, but rather like the muffled violence of the calm before the storm. 

There's almost a static to the air, sparking across clouds of thick tension.

"Shuna?" Benimaru says, turning to face her. His hand leaves his sheathed katana. "Sister, has something happened?"

"Other than a visit to our Otherworlder friend in the dungeons," Shuna glances at him, "or murderers walking free?" 

Benimaru is taken aback, and has no words to answer with. 

In fact, it's the first time's the Kijin has laid eyes on her since he'd checked on her unconscious form in the infirmary late yesterday. She looks… well, her clothing is different from usual, for one.

Rather than the white kimono top and red hakama of her usual outfit, Shuna is adorned in black kimono, tied off by a pure white obi around her abdomen and accented with the same color elsewhere. Brown leather boots replace her usual sandals, and over top of her kimono is a dark green jacket.

That's less important, though, and not exactly the cause for Benimaru's slight trepidation.

It's… that. The look on her face. It's almost unrecognizable.

"No, I'd say not, Brother." And instead of her usual smile to him, she merely looks away. "Lord Rimuru. As an advisor and as an Executive of Tempest, may I make a suggestion?"

Oh. He already knows Shuna isn't pleased. Not even close to it. But this is somehow worse. 

That aura about her is too similar to her exasperation and irritation with him by the end of their treaty negotiation trip to Dwargon several months prior. Only, now, it's… intense.

This is something much more genuine than mere exasperation and irritation. 

Disappointed? Hah, this is way past that. 

But he understands. He understands why she feels that way, even if he does not understand the depth. Tanya was one of his friends, but she was Shuna's lover. They lived together. She has every right to be pissed off.

Especially at him.

He truly has no right to deny her. Not when Tanya died in her arms, protecting a city he failed to look after. Not when her grief is fresh.

He hopes he can alleviate that. He's going to bring Tanya back, after all. Hopefully, then, she might consider forgiving him. 

And if she doesn't, he wouldn't blame her anyway. The same goes for Mary.

"Go on." He says, knowing there's no other choice. "I'll hear you out."

Shuna nods, pleased. But even that is muted by the static of the coming storm. 

"My suggestion is that you kill either Youm or Mjurran here and now."

"WHAT!?!?" Grucius and Youm yell this together, as Mjurran, Benimaru, and Rimuru freeze and stare in shock.

Shuna closes her eyes and sighs. "Really, it's not that surprising, is it? Both of them have shown and acted upon a willingness to betray Tempest, favoring their own survival over the lives of our many citizens."

"That's not-" Grucius tries to step forward. Benimaru holds out a hand, stopping him. 

"Shuna," He starts, "Lord Rimuru has decided their fate already. It isn't our place to question his judgement in this matter."

"Isn't our place?" The disbelief in that sentence is truly staggering. "I've seen Lord Rimuru jump from the third story of this very building and get stuck in a pile of snow twice his height. Shion and I spent no less than 10 minutes digging him out! When I see or hear him making a questionable decision, it is entirely my place to question it."

Benimaru winces, looking pained. And angry, though not at her. He's angry at himself for not agreeing with her.

"I understand, Sister. Truly, I do. But this is not-"

"Shuna." Rimuru says softly. As he does so, however, he shifts, stepping half in front of Youm and Mjurran. He made his decision already; they deserve to live. But he needs to hear her next words. 

"What are you here to do?"

Shuna huffs, expression flatly unamused. "I told you already. I'm here to make a suggestion. And barring that, I'm here to make a promise."

A promise? 

"And that is?"

Shuna pauses, as if gathering her thoughts. Observing the group, assessing everything with a cool gaze that belongs on her lover more than her.

"If Tanya isn't returned…" Shuna says, delivering her ultimatum coldly, pointing between Mjurran and Youm. "Mjurran and Youm will not live past your awakening to Demon Lord."

Her hand falls back to her side, addressing Rimuru and Benimaru and ignoring the panicked duo that is now, according to their own knowledge, marked for death.

The static intensifies.

"That is my promise."

~NEW OPENING: IMPERIAL REUNION ARC / DEMON LORD AWAKENING ARC~

-<>-<>--=-=-

Known Skills List

Tanya:

< ERROR: RESTRICTED >

Mary:

Common Skill: Thought Communication

Extra Skill: Magic Sense

Extra Skill: Magic Aura

Extra/Intrinsic Skill: Physical Enhancement

Unique Skill: Ability Severance