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

You have to make a choice, don't you?

You can't hide forever. 

Aoi Tanaka. Tanya von Degurechaff. 

Salaryman. Soldier. Skeptic. Heretic. 

Star .

It's good I found you when I did. We can't risk something… Other, getting some smidgeon of self-awareness. Getting a taste of actual power. 

It's good you've come back so willingly. That makes it easy. Perhaps you can fall into line after all. Perhaps you aren't truly a lost cause. Perhaps your story isn't unsalvageable. 

But I don't believe that. You were too stubborn to even die properly. Twice. 

And, unfortunately for both of us, that meanssomething. 

How much trouble you've caused me… it is fortunate, at least, that you are returned. It is less fortunate that the other one did not return with you. Even if she is far less of a concern… it's better to nip these things in the bud before they get out of hand, I've decided. 

I was careless already. But, as long as you keep within your role…

Star. An object of the cosmos, composed of plasma and self-replicating in its energy and gravity. One of the smallest existences to truly influence the universe around them, rather than merely exist within. 

Usually they burn out in their own time.

Occasionally, however, with enough size… resources, time, power… well, potential is by itself, worthless. I suppose I should bless my good fortune that you don't remember?

Haha. Is that right?

How much does this World mean to you, I wonder? It's not the same anymore.

You have to make a choice. 

You always have to make a choice.

-<>-<>-<>-

Notes / July / Year 2

As of last night (July 1st, later than expected), and confirmed both by Souei and myself, the space-time/magicule-influencing anomaly dubbed "Point Alpha" (ref. Notes / April / Year 2) has disintegrated from this plane. 

In line with later hypotheses, a lack of Factor Y (ref. Notes / June / Year 2) seems to have resulted in a structural failure of the phenomenon, resulting in the obvious conclusion to its ongoing entropic process. As the phenomenon has officially ended (as far as we can determine), it's worth noting in writing that I believe Factor Y stems from myself, in some form. 

The location of all five anomalies lines up with locations in which I expended some number of magicules, surpassing some arbitrary cutoff point of energy that doesn't measure to anything specifically, beyond the frustratingly vague amount of "great". 

In comparison, Factor Z is not present in this world, and needs little further consideration given its clear inability to maintain such anomalies without the influence of Factor Y. 

The next logical conclusion, then, should be that more anomalies may exist in the future. Given my status as Tempest's Interim Leader, and even without that as an Executive of Tempest, it stands to reason that I will be forced to expend "great" amounts of phenomena-inducing energy (magicules, aura, etcetera). 

This, however, and to both mine and Souei's relief, appears to not be the case. 

Case and point: a little clearing approximately 400 meters south of Tempest's southern gate. I will admit within these pages that I am grateful my early morning training spot will not be compromised by what is essentially a hole in space-time. Though, studying the anomalies themselves would be easier with one at such close hand…

It's not worth the risk, I've concluded.

There have been no further recorded anomalies. Based on my own research and personal training, I am inclined to view my Unique Skill: Tetra Breaker as the reason for this. It's true that my control over said phenomena-inducing energies, both conscious and subconscious, has increased dramatically ever since. . .

---

Notes / July (cont.) / Year 2

. . . given the necessity of focusing on other projects, such as gaining a deeper understanding of warping and perfecting my uncreatively dubbed "Explosive Palm" formula, I am only just now looking into the notes I copied down from Mary's notebook. 

Unfortunately, I only have these copies from months ago, as she and Rimuru have not yet returned to Tempest. Who knows what she's added since then?

Even without the most updated notes, however, there is more than enough to proceed. 

It's honestly fascinating. Certainly, I've memorized the common runes and runic arrays of this world out of principle, but they're far from my specialty. I knew enough about their effects and their symbolism to scrape us through that mess in Xerxes, and that surface-level knowledge is all I'll ever truly need.

Mary, however, seems to have taken that as a challenge of sorts. And I know that she feels it's necessary, given that the main runic language seems to be of Norse (or, I suppose, Legadonian) origin. Likely brought over by an Otherworlder a long time ago and adapted to the new system.

It's clear that she's put in a great amount of effort to learn and master them. Nostalgia, a desire to reunite with her origins, there are a number of reasons. Perhaps I'll ask her to teach me some of her home language when she returns? 

Regardless. There are several runes within my copies of her notes that should suffice. 

I've broken down the formula for that healing spell and sketched it out in a separate notebook. I've also gathered as much data as I can from Vesta on the properties and thaumaturgic foundation of Potions. And now, with specific runes from Mary's notes, I should be able to, for lack of a better term, "Frankenstein" a formula that gives me more comprehensive magical healing effect. 

After figuring out numerical/formulaic equivalents for the Potion and runic effects, of course.

It's far from easy, but… I think I'm having fun? The work is enjoyable, at least. Perhaps I would have become a phenomena researcher if I'd lived past the Great War. Even if the Empire lost, which by all means they should have, I'm sure NASA or its equivalent would have accepted me; they accepted far worse in my original world. 

But I'd rather be here. I'm glad I died.

Perhaps a bit morbid. I digress. 

The real problem with creating a comprehensive spell or formula is figuring out how to feasibly combine the effects of three separate disciplines of magic into one cohesive creation. This will take more than a single evening to calculate, that's for certain.

It's not as simple as using all three at the same time. The difficulty and effort would make it wholly redundant. At that point, I might as well just carry several Full Potions around at all times, something I refuse to do on principle. It needs to be effective, and not needlessly complicated. And it needs to work on others as well. 

A tall order, to be sure.

If only I had some form of regeneration to act as a foundation. . .

-<>-<>-<>-

DEPARTMENT OF THE ARMY

TO: General Hans von Zettour

FROM: Lieutenant Colonel Wilibald von Silbern

SUBJECT: Interview with [REDACTED]

DATE: Feb. 17th

LOCATION: Kruskos Army Air Corps Testing Lab

DESCRIPTION:

Yesterday, I conducted an interview with Subject 01, initially codenamed into our records as "Anomaly", and since as [REDACTED]. This was done in accordance to established regulations (As of last year. See updated Handbook Section I.N.T.E.R., Subsection V.I.E.W.) on Feb. 16th, of the same year and otherwise known as the previous day. Attending the interview as a witness was Magic Major Viktoriya Ivanovna Serebryakov. Attached after this report is the transcript of the interview, recorded and provided via Major Serebryakov's Type 99 computation orb.

I have summarized my thoughts and main takeaways in the following paragraphs.

Subject 01 claims to be the off-record MIA, on-record KIA Magic Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff. Hard evidence to this claim is still being investigated. However, all indications so far point to this claim being the truth, or at least, bearing some form of it. 

These indicators are as follows. 

One: Subject 01 bears a nigh-mirror resemblance to Colonel Degurechaff in facial features. However, Subject 01 differs in hair color (silver, rather than blonde), height (approx. 170cm, rather than her last record of 150cm), and build (for lack of a better comparison, healthier). It is important to note that these changes do not qualify as legitimate marks against her claim. Please see the transcript for more details. Subject 01 was very thorough in her self-analysis, once questioned.

Two: Subject 01 answered every single question about Colonel Degurechaff's background correctly. While we should acknowledge that the most intensive and thorough level of questioning was not possible, given the short timeframe between Subject 01's arrival and interview, it was by no means a simple task. Please refer to the transcript for further details. 

Three: Major Serebryakov has personally vouched for the authenticity of Subject 01's claim. Given her status as Colonel Degurechaff's former wingman and adjutant, it can be argued that few (if any) others are better suited to identifying Colonel Degurechaff. It can also be argued that, as the only living member of the now-defunct New 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion's leadership, her judgement is potentially biased and/or emotionally compromised. See transcript for more details.

Four: Subject 01 arrived at Kruskos Army Air Corps Testing Lab in a violent, seemingly accidental fashion. On February 16th, the "Gate" project, initially built and directed by the late Doctor Adelheid von Schugel at your behest, activated on its own, and, for lack of a better term, spat her into the eastern wall of the project's main warehouse. 

That is perhaps the most damning evidence so far.

As a result of the mandates set forth by the initial "Gate" project, speculation and gossip is rife among the Lab's personnel. Theories both crackpot and reasonably sound are impossible to ignore. And despite harsh admonishment from upper staff, rumors of the White Silver's return-

[p.1 of 3]

-<>-<>-<>-

The Third Day, Winter

Kruskos Army Air Corps Testing Lab

 Germanian Empire

This body isn't terrible, but it isn't right.

It's some facsimile of a human form, with normal flesh and blood. It was made with a different substance in mind, the crevices and mana circuits ill-fitted for this soul of hers.

When she uses her magicules – for she no longer has mana, as phenomena are powered by in this world, but magicules – static shimmers along her veins. Like wearing a shoe that is slightly too small, all pinches and compression.

Ah.

That would explain the irritation, at least. The feeling like her flesh is being rubbed by sandpaper, except from the inside out. If this body is meant for mana, rather than magicules, it's no wonder at all.

It is helpful, Tanya thinks, that no one is quite sure what to do with her just yet.

She's still figuring things out herself. She needs time, and as always, it's in short supply.

How much does she have?

As far as she is aware, the Empire never got around to creating a plan for "returned to life" soldiers. And thank goodness for that; she doesn't fancy dealing with zombies anytime soon.

Then again, she'd heard word through a bit eavesdropping that a member of the General Staff is on their way to the base already. And given how committed to death and devastation many of them seemed to be back in the day, she's not throwing away the idea of dealing with a Lich or necromancer.

Regardless, this leaves her a bit of wiggle room. She's in a grey area; one of her favorite places to be.

Theoretically, great! She has a reasonable timeline now.

Realistically? Well, let's see.

The best way to get answers is to speak with someone who knows them and is willing to give them. The second best way is to find someone who knows the answers, and then extract them yourself by any means necessary.

Who's visiting? Who has answers?

It'll be someone she knew back then. There's no doubt in her mind about that.

Zettour? Rudersdorf? Rerugen? Rommel? Maybe even Ugar?

It'd be… well, maybe not nice, but interesting to see any of them again. A familiar face, if not always a friendly one. Poor Erich wasn't nearly as subtle in his distaste as he thought.

It'd be nice to see her 203rd again. More than interesting, definitely. And "nice" is just an easy way to describe it. It wouldn't just be nice; it'd be exactly what she needs.

She needs to see them again. They need to meet again, someday, somewhere. Preferably soon, and here.

But the only one around is Visha. And as happy as Tanya is to see Visha again, as much as she loves her, it's not fair to the others if she's the only one who gets closure in this. Weiss, Koenig, Neumann, she never thought she'd see them again, but here she is now.

This must be how Orpheus felt, standing defiantly in a place he was never meant to be.

But if Tanya's going to look back, just this one time, then she's going to do it right. She has to.

This poses an interesting, somewhat frustrating problem going forward. Her existence right now is a very delicate balancing act.

What do I do? When do I do it? One false step, one wrong word, and it's over.

This is a second chance. There won't be a third.

…what if there's not enough time?

Six days isn't just a hard limit: it's an unlikely one. Tanya knows how the next few days "over there" might go. She knows, better than anyone else, the depths to which certain people will go in pursuit of what they deem righteous, or more accurately these days, right.

Three days there, six days here? Yeah, right. Thinking about it now, isn't it just typical for divine beings to underestimate mere mortals? She'd never trusted those words anyway, but concluding this by herself now, after what she's realized, rankles her all the more.

What if, let's say… Weiss hears about her return and decides to come visit. Just out of curiosity, maybe, or some dark hope. If he's in Berun, that's not a problem. But if he's in Hamburg? Norden? The Colonies?

Well, that fucks her over rather sweetly, doesn't it?

Six days wouldn't be enough time, and she probably doesn't even have that.

And it's not like she has the option to wait longer. She can feel a… connection, over there.

How hysterically ironic, that she of all people may feel a love strong enough to reach across Worlds. She's grateful, it being part of her ticket back and all... assuming it's real. It hurts, and she doesn't dislike it.

That means something.

Maybe it's her imagination, but it feels real to her. Even now, even as muffled as she'd made it in order to mask its presence from a certain nosy bastard, it tugs at her heart, at something deeper, and Tanya didn't realize until recently just how much she could miss another person, persons.

Bottling your emotions up has its benefits, up until the bottle breaks and you find the parts of you that bleed into parts of others. Up until you're nothing but a gaping wound weeping out into nothing, begging and pleading for that connection you were so, so scared to acknowledge, but now it's too late.

Tanya made plenty of mistakes. She's going to make plenty more.

But, back then…

"Were we… good?"

A sob. A heartbreaking smile.

"The best."

Ah, that's right. 

At the heart of it all was a deep, desperate desire at the very end. A single thought: "…I never wanted those precious memories to end."

I love you. Wait for me.

One singular desire, held by someone with exactly the right tools to make it a reality.

I'll be home soon. I promise.

-<>-<>-<>-

There's no real reason she can't storm her initial reentry point to this World and force open a portal back at this very moments.

Other than still needing to right her wrongs among those she'd once watched over and, yes, as we've established, cared for.

There's also the fact that she doesn't know where – as in, what building exactly – she'd arrived at, other than knowing it's somewhere on base. And she can't go find it. Not yet at least, not without raising suspicions from both people here and Him up on high.

No, it's most likely that the first time she finds that place will also be the last time.

And… leaving immediately is exactly the sort of thing Being X would expect. So, while sticking around is more dangerous, technically, it's also the safer plan overall. Right?

There's more to it than that, of course. She hates admitting to feeling lonely; it'd never bothered her before. Then of course, there were some people she came to care for, then lost, and then there were some more people she came to care for, and one she fell in love with-

Static presses against the back left part of her brain, squeezing.

Tanya winces, lifting a steaming mug to her mouth. Her eyes brighten, then dim.

Still, they glow.

Gods, what a damn headache this is turning out to be. Figuratively and literally.

Lotte's boots, on her feet for the time now and going forward, sway in the open air. From her seat on the edge of the roof like this, it's possible to see across half of the old, scorched testing fields from way back when.

She yawns, doing her level best to ignore the pressure on her mind, and drinks deeply from her mug, staring out onto the pitch-black horizon. It's early enough that even the most staunch and disciplined soldiers are either still asleep, or desperately wishing they were.

The Sun has not yet risen. Any sane person would do their level best to avoid being outdoors when the night air is fresh and frigid enough to form icicles from one's swallowed saliva.

Tanya isn't an ordinary human anyway. Or even human, technically. And, as her now constant yet comparatively weak headache represents, she hadn't been sleeping anyway.

Nor does the cold really affect her anymore, despite currently inhabiting a markedly weaker, less resistant body.

Honestly, the cold helps far more than it hurts, at this point.

Tanya takes another sip from her mug, relishing the warmth and taste. She could confidently say that her own brewing skills are beyond competent. Equally – or at least very nearly – as good as her former adjutant's brew.

Though nostalgia keeps her from ever saying that out loud.

She yawns. It's been approximately… 52 hours since her arrival. Or her return, but that implies staying for longer than she intends.

Regardless, 52 hours here, in this world and body. 52 hours without real sleep.

The toll it's taking on her is not surprising. But it is a toll nonetheless, which means it is far from enjoyable. In the space between last night and now, a time which is technically morning but still dark enough to be considered otherwise, she'd more than felt this.

Now, with the cold of the sunless early morning, she allows herself to categorize, then compartmentalize it all.

The static comes and goes in waves. Often, it presses against her back muscles from the inside, and her shoulders will shake like she's been caught in a Rus blizzard with her pants down.

(The Federation campaign had its ups and downs for creative imagery, she supposes.)

Often, the feeling buzzes down the underside of her arms, trailing from her triceps to the pinkies. Her spine sometimes feels like it is covered in warm water. Other times, cold.

Rarely are these overtly painful, though whether this is because the sensations do not fully register as pain, or that her tolerance is simply that high, she can't say.

In all likelihood, it's a mix of both, Tanya thinks, as a sudden white-hot stab lances up from between her knuckles to her elbow. It fades away in a flash, the glow in her eyes intensifying momentarily.

Ugh.

The real issue, however, is exhaustion. Physical and mental.

The first one has a simple enough explanation and solution. Her soul doesn't fit in this makeshift body.

Oh sure, the size is right, and the physical features all line up correctly. But herself… that is to say, the foundation of her very being doesn't mesh well with this mirrored yet ultimately human body.

Her sense of self, herself, rubs up against the nerves and mana circuits and whatnot of this form, pressing and scraping the actual flesh, blood, and bones with power that doesn't quite fit.

The causes quite a bit of friction, and as you can imagine, discomfort. It reminds her a bit of an older discomfort she'd had in her first body, though this is less dysphoric and more a literal, foundational incompatibility between body and self.

To combat this, and the sharp flashes of pain that occasionally accompany a particular vicious tug at her mana circuits, Tanya's taken to running a… healing formula, of sorts, alongside the formula that's kept her from activating a particular wannabe God's "Sodom and Gomorrah" instinct.

There's not much more she can do than that. Not without tipping her hand early in the game.

"…you know." Tanya says, quietly and to no one that can be seen. "I still remember my last day on these fields."

He's listening, now. Good.

"What did you say…? Shall I grant you a miracle, right?" She pauses and drinks from her mug. "That was the night before, actually, but my point is, I remember. How could I forget? That night, and the day after, were possibly the worst in my life. If I'm being honest, I think that was the day I decided I could never accept you. I'd defied you before, but if we consider my thought processes and actions up to that point, it's not unreasonable to say I could have accepted you in a different circumstance. This life wasn't all bad, you know."

Tanya shrugs.

"Maybe an apology. An open conversation. Mutual respect."

She snorts, draining the rest of her mug and setting it beside her.

"I prefer you recognize, Being X, that we're long past that point now. Sorry, but if you think just because you brought me back to life, I'll understand the error of my ways, you've got another thing coming."

"What would you have me say? I know well how stubborn you may be."

The voice slithers in one ear and out the other. A sickeningly familiar sensation, all-encompassing… yet, muted, compared to the last time she'd felt it.

"I gave up on making you faithful a long time ago. Indeed, your greatest use to me came in the form of entertainment and spectacle. If you would not believe, then at least your actions forced by my hand would foster more than enough faith in others to make up the difference."

"Good luck with that. As far as I'm concerned, I died fighting in a war that didn't want me, and woke up in a world that doesn't need me."

"That's where you're wrong, Tanya. Your job isn't done quite yet. The war is over, but what happens next? This is your story, Tanya. Don't you understand? You're not allowed to just step away when it's convenient to you."

"I don't care about any of that. And I don't intend to understand anything of yours. Not when you couldn't possibly understand me."

"…You'll understand one day." 

With that, his presence fades.

Tanya sighs. Her headache is worse now, for obvious reasons.

Maybe more coffee will help…

And, down below, a frozen shadow of an unseen listener walks hurriedly, yet silently, away.

-<>-<>-=-=-