* * *
The coliseum burst into applause at Benimaru’s promise. Shuna happily congratulated her brother, and Shion was clapping proudly for reasons only she knew. I could hear some jealousy and resentment among the cheering from the crowd, but it just showed how much everyone cared for him.
And so Momiji, Alvis, and Benimaru celebrated their new union in the midst of raucous cheering in the coliseum. I’d like to move right on to the party phase, but we’re still in the middle of an event here, and I want to get the evolution rituals done with first. For now, we’ll keep it to just that announcement. Once this evolution event masquerading as a victory celebration is over, we’ll have more time to hold Benimaru’s wedding in an unhurried fashion. There’s another party scheduled for later today, but—hey—the more excitement, the merrier.
So allowing the happy trio to return to their posts, I ordered Shuna to make the necessary arrangements for them, raising a hand to quiet down the incessant cheering. It was a very unexpected turn of events. I could see Gobwa breaking down in tears out of the corner of my eye (and Phobio consoling her for some reason), but there was no time to think about that. Let’s keep this thing going.
Back in my slime form, I settled down on my chair. Once I was up there, Shuna’s dignified voice echoed across the coliseum, the atmosphere still electric.
“Our three great commanders, please step forward!”
These referred to the commanders of our First, Second, and Third Army Corps—in other words, Gobta, Geld, and Gabil. All three were kneeling before me.
Let’s kick things off with Gobta. He was looking right at me, face expectant.
“A-hem! Gobta, I will grant you no reward!”
“Huhhh? Aw, what the hey? That’s so mean! Why’d ya call me up, then?”
“A fine question! I may not have a reward for you, but instead, I’m going to give you a new privilege.”
“A privilege?”
All the souls in the world wouldn’t evolve Gobta. He might have been a bundle of budding talent, but he didn’t qualify for this prize, and I couldn’t help that. I considered granting him some weapons or armor, but I didn’t think he’d be capable of handling anything more than what I already gave him. Besides, he and Ranga could already transform into that combo beast, so I didn’t think he needed any kind of half-assed armor anyway.
And forget about a cash reward—not like he’d use it for anything worthwhile. He already took in a fat paycheck as an army commander; I gave him a ton of points each month that he could trade in for money, so I was sure he was living comfortably. If this was a human kingdom, I’d probably be assigning him territory and making him an earl or something, but Tempest didn’t really work on that system. It wasn’t like he had any kind of governance skill regardless, so it was pointless to think about.
So I decided to grant Gobta a special privilege instead. The concept was hard for Gobta to wrap his head around; calling it just a “privilege” was probably too vague to understand. Let’s give him the answer.
“I hereby grant you the privilege of continuing to address me as you do now, in your casual tone of voice!”
I grinned at the puzzled Gobta as I spoke. And before he could understand what I’d just told him, a cheer—or maybe more like angry shouting—rang out even louder than the one for Benimaru. It was sheer jealousy, and there was no way to hide it. Even Shion and Shuna were giving Gobta terrifying gazes. I couldn’t even guess how envious they were.
“Um… You serious, sir?”
“Like, you don’t even know how to talk all fancy, do you? You’d royally screw it up if you tried, so I’m taking this opportunity to make it your formal right instead.”
I can sense that Gobta respects me, of course, but that’s not at all prevalent in his tone of voice. I mean, I always tell people that they can be as casual as they’d like with me, but it seems to be difficult for a lot of people. Meanwhile, we’d frequently receive complaints from dignitaries about how flip Gobta’s more natural speaking style was. People wanted me to do something about it, I was told, because otherwise it’d make everyone else look bad.
It was turning into a big hassle, so I decided to grant him the “right” to speak that way. We had foreign guests like Phobio and Jaine in the audience, so I figured taking this chance to spread the word would help solve the Gobta problem. I’m sure things like appearances and authority are big problems for some people, but as monsters, we never have anything as rigid as that. I just do what I wanna do. It’s what’s on the inside that counts, not the outside, and Gobta’s a great example of that. He may sound like a little punk, but his loyalty is the real thing. I could see it in his eyes—eyes that’re fully willing to die for me. That’s why I gave him this “privilege.”
“Thank youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!”
With a huge smile, Gobta stood up and bowed until he was forming a right angle with his body. He was clearly overjoyed—maybe he had been working on correcting his tone, although if he was, he failed miserably. In a way, this was the best reward I could give Gobta, and that made me happy, too. He’s such a hard person to shop for.
That took care of Gobta. Next was Geld.
“Now, Geld—from this day forward, you may style yourself as Barrier Lord!”
“I gladly accept the title, my lord! And I, Geld, promise to do my best to live up to that name!”
Good. Strong response there. And as the crowd cheered, I lowered my voice to a whisper.
“And I’m gonna try the same evolution ritual I did with Benimaru on you.”
“What on…?”
It was gonna be a pain in the ass to explain it every time, so I set up a Thought Communication with everybody I intended to grant souls to. Once they were all hooked up, I explained to everyone what evolution entailed for them, not forgetting to use Hasten Thought as well. That way, we could have this important conversation in less than a few seconds of real time.
Once I wrapped that up, Geld answered via Thought Communication.
(I am grateful for the offer, my lord, but I wonder if there are those more qualified than me for it. Carrera, serving as our observer, was far more successful in this war. If she, too, is qualified for this, then by all means, let it be her instead of me…)
Hmm. So he was declining the offer to be awakened? Well, I had no intention of evolving Carrera this time. She did contribute a lot, yeah, but if she was this much of a menace in her current state, I couldn’t have her flying off the handle with even more power. We needed to see how this evolution stuff would unfold at first, and that was why I wanted to evolve more of the old guard for starters, since I trusted they’d be safe with it.
I relayed all that to Geld, but he still seemed a little torn.
(Yes, but me, I don’t know…)
Ah. I guess Geld was also a little anxious about the potential to go berserk after this? Plus, maybe this was his way of expressing his atonement. The orcs’ rampage a while back spread disaster all across the Forest of Jura, and as the leader responsible for that, Geld always placed himself under severe discipline. His eyes were shining with a strong determination, and right now, they were pointed straight at me. So I told him:
(Don’t worry about that, Geld. The Geld they used to call the Orc Disaster might have gone out of control, but even that was for the sake of your friends, wasn’t it?)
I didn’t think he’d go berserk now. If he had that kind of determination, he ought to be able to control whatever power he had at hand. And nobody among us would ever shun Geld for the events of the past by now.
(I know you still feel responsible about it, but I trust in you. And I know you can use your newfound powers to help protect us all!)
Once Geld evolved, his followers would receive blessings as well. That, in turn, would strengthen the defenses of our entire nation. Explaining it this way to him, I noticed Geld’s eyes sparkle even brighter than before.
(…If that is the case, then I will gratefully accept the offer!)
Great; he said yes. That’s the Geld I know. A man who works not just for himself, but for all his compatriots.
By the way, only one other person besides Geld refused the offer at first. It felt like some of them had their qualms, but their expectations for the future outclassed their anxiety. It’s my fault for not checking things with them beforehand, but momentum was important with this, as far as I was concerned. Seeing everyone agree to it greatly relieved me.
So I turned off the Thought Communication and got back into the party groove.
“You have done a great job for me. As a reward, I shall grant you this.”
I signaled to Shuna. She nodded with a smile and handed Geld a set of equipment we prepared in advance. It was an armor-and-shield set, both Legend-class gear picked up from the battle, which I further customized after consulting with Garm. This gear reacted to Geld’s own aura, meaning that only he had the right to handle it; it worked along the same lines as Holy Spirit Armor, something that not even Garm could reproduce.
The difference between Legend- and God-class gear lies in the maturity of the gear itself—in other words, the gear’s skill capacity. The armor evolves over the years, in a variety of ways, and the number of years required depends on the materials used. Add a talented owner to the equation, and that dramatically increases evolution speed as well. Geld’s talents are geared toward defense, so even though this gear is Legend class, I predict that it’d immediately up his defense to the point where it’d rival God class. Plus, as Raphael sees it, there’s a high possibility that the armor will receive additional blessings from Geld’s evolution. If that happens, a God-class ranking would be a shoo-in, and Geld would have some incredible defense boosts.
So Geld reverently accepted his reward, bowing to me.
Question. Do you wish to use the prescribed amount of one hundred thousand souls to evolve the subject Geld?
Yes
No
As I thought yes, I called out to Geld again.
“I have been giving you a great deal of hard work all this time. Now is a good opportunity for you to rest and relax, while envisioning what you want for the future.”
I planned for Geld to continue playing a big role not only in battle, but in the construction of our city. He’s been working incredibly hard this whole time, and he almost never even takes a full day off. He may very well be the hardest worker I know, and I really hope he takes this opportunity to chill out a bit.
“Yes, my lord! I truly appreciate this offer!”
Geld smiled warmly at me. Then he nonchalantly returned to his column, as if fighting off the evolutionary slumber the Harvest Festival would bring to him.
How could he beat away that sleepiness? I have no idea. But as I admired this, I turned to our next contestant: Gabil. He had led the Third Army Corps in a brilliant aerial performance, and as I praised him over it, he looked down at the ground with a meek expression.
“I remain unworthy, my lord. My failures of leadership caused some of my own to be injured… My incompetence truly shames me.”
…Well, in your case, I think you had it coming, didn’t you? Having that bout of magic-resistance training in the middle of a war… I don’t think anyone could ever follow your lead on that one. Or I wouldn’t want them to. Ultima gave me a detailed briefing after it was all over, and really, I was amazed at how stupid he acted. She even advised me to punish him over it. Since when had he become such an experiment-loving bastard like that?
Still, thanks to that, it seemed Gabil and his team had unraveled the secret to Dragon Body, a unique skill among dragonewts. I figured that absolved him from facing the full wrath of my anger.
But enough about all that. I switched over to Thought Communication; it’d be counterproductive if I yelled at him in front of everyone. Better to keep things private.
(So we’ll talk at length about your decision to conduct an experiment in the middle of battle, but Ultima offered me a suggestion. She said she’d teach you more about magicule management.)
(What?!)
(Demons, you know—they say they can control magicules the way you and I breathe air. She said she’ll help you learn some of that, so why don’t you have her teach you a lesson or two?)
Maybe being punished would just make Gabil happy, or maybe having Ultima beat him into shape would be better for him. But hell, I’m sure even Ultima knows how to go easy on people. I figured that running the gauntlet with her a bit would help him reflect on what he did. That was the rationale behind my decision.
(My lord, we are still in our infancy. I, Gabil, could hardly be more grateful for being given this opportunity to grow even further! I will make every effort to ensure we live up to your expectations so that all of us may master Dragon Body!)
I thought he’d be reluctant, but his response was surprisingly positive. Guess he’s ready for it, then.
Looking back, I kinda miss the days back when Gabil got carried away and had his ass whipped by Gobta. His previously birdbrained personality had settled down a lot now; he’s capable of reading the atmosphere around him, and that helps him acquire a certain dignity befitting an experienced warlord. He may still have a lot of work to do, as he said, but he always had the qualities he needed, and between bitter defeats and interacting with Vester and his team, he had gained a depth of thought that he simply didn’t have before.
By this point, I could really depend on him. All the experience he had accumulated had helped him truly grow—and that’s why I could trust him to be worthy of this power.
“I will grant you my power—and with it, you shall awaken as the newly christened Dracolord!”
So I gave Gabil my souls, setting the table for his awakening and evolution. Unlike Geld, the effect was instant and dramatic. His dark-purple scales acquired more of a reddish hue, and a fiery rush of magicules coursed across his body. But Gabil had no trouble at all enduring it, maintaining full consciousness and controlling the newfound force through sheer power of will. This experiment hadn’t been in vain at all—it was bearing real fruit for us.
“Rarrrrrrrh! The power is teeming within me! Thank you, Sir Rimuru! From here on in, I shall call myself the Dracolord—and I will use my powers for my lord and my nation!”
Violent lightning shot out from Gabil’s body, scorching his very flesh. But in an instant, his body healed, rebuilding itself into a stronger form. I guess it worked—and perhaps thanks to me deigning to call him a lord, magnificent horns sprouted from his temples. Pretty brash of him, I thought, but they looked good. It was a truly remarkable evolution, as dignified as it was power bound, and I was happy to accept it.
So Gabil the Dracolord was born.
It was interesting, though, to see how the Harvest Festival’s effects varied from person to person. I immediately fell into a deep sleep against my will, and I could tell Geld was fighting off the same fate right now. But Benimaru still had some extra homework to take care of—and in Gabil’s case, it ran from start to finish in the course of a few seconds.
“Sir Gabil! I feel myself strengthening as well!”
“Yes!”
“And me, too. My lord, you’ve done it again!”
Gleeful voices could be heard across the Third Army Corps columns. They were coming from the hundred-strong members of Team Hiryu. It looked like the lizardmen that comprised the Blue Numbers had received blessings of their own, too. In fact, all three thousand of them had just evolved into dragonewts before my eyes.
Now Team Hiryu had climbed over the wall to a full A rank, gaining enough fighting skill to be rated alongside mid-ranked demons. It was kind of like having Dragon Body permanently activated, and so the ability itself was now decommissioned for them. They had also lost the skill Scalify, which transformed their skin into dragon scale, but in its place was Dragonskin, a new skill.
I’ll let Ultima coach them on controlling their powers, but this new skill really interested me. Basically, it takes in ambient magicules to cover the body in a self-repairing armor. It works on the same principle as the Body Armor skill, but with much more defensive ability. It could regenerate a decent amount of injury as well, which obviated the user from needing any armor at all—nice cost savings there.
What’s more, the skill varied from person to person, its strength improving with the power of the user. Gabil’s Dragonskin skill gave him the protection of a God-class suit of armor, for example, a perfect shield that deflected pretty much anything. They might still have been dragonewts, but their strength was so high, it was no exaggeration to call them a new race entirely. They still looked pretty lizard-y, not human at all… But that was up to their own motivation, so I didn’t really care.
There were a few others I shouldn’t omit, either.
Interestingly enough, Soka and the four dragonewt guards serving under her were also affected by Gabil’s evolution. These dragonewts were already in constant human form, which meant their natural defense wasn’t near that of their peers, but they boasted much greater speed and offensive force. They had the Dragon Body skill, but unlike their friends, they still retained a certain human appearance when it was activated. They could manifest dragon scales and wings when they wanted to, but with Dragon Body, they looked more like dragon-y magic-born than anything. They were the same species as Gabil and the others, but it seemed like they were following a completely different evolutionary path—I wouldn’t be surprised if the next evolution made them a different species entirely.
In terms of strength, Soka’s team was more powerful than Team Hiryu, to the point where you could call them high-level magic-born, and Soka had enough magicule energy to rank up there with an Arch Demon. Just as I expected, they had made a really significant step forward.
Now let’s have them go back in line and get the next lucky winners up onstage.
“Ranga! Hakuro! Testarossa! Ultima! Carrera! Come on up!”
Can’t have Gobta without Ranga. I couldn’t imagine having any close adviser except Hakuro. And the three demonesses I had serving as observers and information officers spoke for themselves.
Upon my command, Ranga crept out from my shadow. Hakuro stepped up as well, a bit zombielike in his shuffling gait. Testarossa was as graceful as ever; Ultima, light and breezy; and Carrera as regal as a queen. All of them ascended the platform and kneeled before me.
Since they were so nicely lined up, I figured I’d give their rewards in order. First, Ranga. He did a hell of a job saving Gobta.
“Ranga, I can see you have mastered fighting in a team with Gobta. I also thank you for offering him your protection.”
“Not at all, my master. I only did what anyone would have done!”
Ha-ha-ha. Cute of him. But I know you’re happy to have me praise you, so stop wagging your tail all over the place, could you?
“From this day forward, you may call yourself Star Lord!”
“Yes, my master!”
He accepted it with an appreciative howl, and then the soul corridor opened between us. His evolution began immediately, just like mine, and the Harvest Festival was promptly underway.
“Gnnnhh… Master…”
“Sleepy? Don’t force it.”
There was no reason to hold back. I put Ranga back in my shadow and let him rest inside. If I had to guess, the other demon wolves would receive their blessings as well—I couldn’t wait to see how the evolution would turn out. Ranga, to his credit, quietly fell asleep in my shadow, not letting the power overtake him.
That made it four down. As of that moment, I didn’t see anything to worry about, but better keep my head up until the end, I supposed.
Next came Hakuro.
“You have performed your role as Gobta’s adviser with an expert hand. I thank you for it.”
“Oh, don’t be silly. Gobta has matured magnificently. He will hardly need my help at all before long.”
“No, no, there’s a huge difference between you being present or not. Now, for your reward…”
“One moment, Sir Rimuru. If I may, it’s already more than enough that you’ve heeded my daughter Momiji’s wishes.”
Oh. Right. I did say that, didn’t I? But I wasn’t going to accept that.
(That’s a different matter. I want Benimaru and Momiji to be happy, too, after all. Besides, as her father, I’m sure you have some mixed feelings about Alvis jumping in, don’t you?)
I switched to Thought Communication for this, since it let us talk without taking up much time in front of this audience—really useful stuff.
(I did, yes. But I believe in this young man, Sir Benimaru. And I know, when I look at my daughter’s eyes, that her feelings are true. Thus, I am satisfied.)
(Good, then. I have no doubt he can make them both happy.)
Whether they can have a child, only God knows, but…
(So…)
(Well, give me a sec here. It’s important that I give credit where credit is due, you know? So I asked Kurobe to forge a masterpiece for you. I hope you’ll take it and keep all his labor from going to waste.)
That’s right—I had a newly forged sword from Kurobe for him. Kurobe had been improving his skill by leaps and bounds; the workmanship on this piece is nothing short of excellent, making it a Legend-equivalent work of art. Benimaru’s blade was also at Kurobe’s forge for repairs, by the way. In the previous battle, he wasn’t able to tap his full potential due to the difference in weapon performance he faced, and when Kurobe heard that, he was both crestfallen and eager to reforge the blade. “I’m gonna make it the best blade I can,” he told me, and he’s still holed up in his workshop with it. This particular sword wasn’t quite up to that level, but Kurobe still put a lot of work into it, and I’m sure Hakuro will love it.
(Ahhh, Kurobe did that…? Well, in that case, I will gladly accept it!)
(Great. Feel free to, then!)
Good, good. If he declined it, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. Modesty is a virtue and all that, but really, I think everyone’s being a little too reserved up here. Let’s go on.
“Do not worry, Hakuro. This is something I’ve had prepared exclusively for you. Please do not hesitate to take it!”
“I, Hakuro, accept this with my full heart. I promise not to let your kindness go to waste, Sir Rimuru!”
And so Hakuro accepted the sword.
Next up were my demoness pals.
At first, I wasn’t totally sure what I’d do with them. If adding to their strength was all I thought about, then evolving these three Demon Peers would be my best bet—but as I told Benimaru and Geld, I opted against it for now. I didn’t quite have enough souls for everyone, yes, but more than that, I wasn’t entirely sure I could control them afterward. I really had no idea how strong they’d get, so I had to put any evolution on hold.
These three were on the same rank as Diablo, so for now I decided to evolve Diablo first and see how he did. I had my concerns about Diablo, too, in a much different way… But well, best not to worry about it. The way I saw it, Diablo was head and shoulders above the rest of his kin regardless; it was funny to see the range of strength present among the Primal Demons.
The three demonesses were under my direct control, entrusted to Diablo, and so I decided to consider their evolution once Diablo’s was complete. Of course, I didn’t have enough souls in my collection to evolve all three of them right now. They all seemed to have a good balance going with each other, so evolving one over the other would present some problems, no? It’d be dangerous, I guess you could say. If I didn’t evolve them all at the same time, it could lead to serious trouble.
That was why I didn’t evolve Carrera alone, despite what Geld suggested. Besides, if you looked at magicule counts alone, Carrera was ahead of Diablo on that tally. Giving her more power seemed like too risky of a bet. Uncontrollable power will be the death of her—and of us, maybe. Her nuclear-class Gravity Collapse magic was already too crazy to contemplate—it could even blow people like Geld away if we weren’t careful. Maybe she had it fully under control, but the way she just busted that out without a moment’s hesitation made me more than a little anxious. Safety first, and so on—I figured we could wait and see how things went before making a decision on their evolutions.
“Testarossa, Ultima, Carrera—all three of you have done a tremendous job as information officers. The souls you have collected are also being put to good use today. Perhaps you may not like how I’m using what you’ve collected for other people, but…”
I considered not telling them about the potential for evolution at all, but Testa and her pals really did do a good job collecting those souls. It’d be rude to leave them in the dark, I thought—but they vigorously disagreed.
“What are you talking about, Sir Rimuru?! There’s no way we could ever be unhappy with you!”
“Right! We’re the ones who can’t repay you enough.”
“Both of them speak the truth, my lord. We are already fully satisfied. We have been granted bodies—and even names, for that matter. That has been more than enough to strengthen us.”
All three of them denied any dissatisfaction with my decision. And yes, maybe they are too strong already. All three of them are probably still stronger than the freshly awakened Gabil. I had to agree with them—but they still had a reward coming.
“I’m glad to hear that from you. You make me feel like my heart’s never far away from your minds, and I appreciate it. That’s why I want you to accept the rewards I’ve prepared for you.”
“Rewards?”
“But…”
“Well…can’t say no to that, can we?”
Right? It’d be too much trouble for me if they said no, so I wanted to shut the door on that first thing.
“In recognition of your work, I hereby acknowledge you as full members of my leadership. Your duties will be the same as before, but in times of war, you will be granted partial command authority. I will also grant you new titles.”
Testarossa was the Killer Lord. Ultima, the Pain Lord. Carrera, the Menace Lord. I thought up those titles after consulting with a few people. They might sound pretty harsh, I guess, but it’s exactly what they were up to during this war. As leaders, their role was to focus on combat, so I thought this was a pretty good fit, actually.
“From this day forward, I grant you permission to call yourselves by those titles. And from now on, I expect you to serve as my close confidants, exactly like the old guard!”
“““As you wish!”””
The three of them bowed their heads in unison. I guess they liked their rewards. Good thing they didn’t complain, I thought as they filed back to their column.
Okay. Let’s keep this pace going.
The next people were the groups that performed well for me in the labyrinth. Bovix and Equix were each given a set of new equipment. Gadora was officially promoted to guardian of Floor 60, which meant he was entrusted with the Demon Colossus. Beretta was thus officially retired as head of the Ten Dungeon Marvels, Gadora taking his place.
In addition, I granted Gadora access to the research facilities dotted across the labyrinth. He’d be working on R & D for us going forward, so now felt like a good opportunity to place my full trust in him. He seemed elated at the news, so I guess it was the right reward. If he steals our research data, well, I’ll deal with it then, but I don’t think I have much to worry about. He’s just a friendly old man, hard to dislike, and I hope he’ll do his best as one of us going forward.
That all went without a hitch. Next was the main course. Beretta, the now-retired Dungeon Marvel, and the four Dragon Lords in the labyrinth were not technically working under me. Ramiris was their boss, so I left them out of these proceedings for now.
My attention was currently on “Nine-Head” Kumara, guardian of Floor 90; “Insect Kaiser” Zegion, guardian of Floor 80; “Insect Queen” Apito, floor boss of Floor 79; “Immortal King” Adalmann, guardian of Floor 70; and “Death Paladin” Alberto, advance guardian of Floor 70. A real rogues gallery if I ever saw one. I doubt I had to worry about any of them falling out of control by this point, but let’s evolve them one by one.
First up, Kumara. I was giving her the title of Chimera Lord.
Maybe it was because she had gained her revenge in this battle, but she had a much better developed sense of presence now. It’s funny to think she was my enemy when we first met—you never do know how things will turn out. Clayman might have been controlling her, but she had now defeated Colonel Kanzis, the man behind it all. I was proud of her for that.
I let her in the labyrinth entirely because Ranga told me she was good at cultivating forests. I was advised to let her guard Floor 90, and that’s exactly what I did. If it weren’t for that, she might still have been that little fox kit, for all I know. I’d always recognized that she was a powerful young monster, but not even I imagined she’d become a Dungeon Marvel in such a short time. But maybe it was destined to happen after I named her, though, huh? I’d have to thank Ranga for suggesting that.
Anyway, Kumara was now the master of eight different magical beasts. They were serving as the bosses of Floors 82 through 89, each a Calamity-level threat. Together they were called the Eight Legions, and they looked kind of familiar to me, actually. A few days after I gave her the name Kumara, I decided to check on her during a walk, and Kumara asked me to call her friends by their names, revealing to me this group of adorable little monsters. I had experienced countless failures when it came to naming monsters, so I knew the danger I’d be risking—but all Kumara wanted me to do was call the tail beasts the names she had already given them. I figured that was safe enough, so I casually took the job. (I’m sure it’s clear, of course, that I didn’t say yes just because it was the most darling little girl asking me with her doe eyes and everything. No way.)
And…well, I didn’t think it’d turn out like this. I’m starting to suspect that I really did “name” them, after all. I can tell you that the eight creatures she showed me certainly didn’t fight like that.
Affirmative. Strictly speaking, they are not the same, but rather a similar phenomenon to what existed before. The end result was a strengthening of the bonds between the subject Kumara and her tail beasts.
Ah. I knew it.
I didn’t notice at the time, because those mystic beasts didn’t go into sleep mode or exhibit any other changes, but the moment I saw them in battle, I thought it could’ve been true. Those cute little critters, now incredibly vicious and powerful Legions. Talk about your crazy before-and-after transformations. Everyone was shocked, and so was I. Kumara, after all, technically got not one, but nine names out of me.
Thanks to that, the Eight Legions each built a stronger bond with her. The power that each one gained through absorbing magicules also fed back to Kumara herself, which led to the overall strength we see today. Well, what’s done is done, I guess. Kumara might’ve been defeated in war if all that didn’t happen, so if it all works out in the end, I’m happy.
I poured my souls into Kumara, and she wound up completing her awakening in an instant. The Eight Legions lined up behind her glowed as they merged back into her body. Then nine tails sprouted out of her. Her original one was now a golden color, while the others were a shining silver.
They were all quite beautiful, but the upgrade to Kumara’s beauty was even more impressive. She was so filled out and enchanting that it was hard to imagine her as an immature young girl any longer. The magnetism was greater than ever before. Her long hair had changed from its previous dark brown to a golden color, like stalks of wheat in the sunlight, and it ran down her back with a silky sheen.
Was it her beauty that evolved, mainly? No—she had more magicules now, of course, already surpassing the awakened Gabil. I definitely wasn’t expecting this. Kumara herself could hold her own in combat, for sure, but it was only when she combined with her Eight Legions to go into chimera mode that she reached the apex of her powers.
Conversely, when Kumara becomes stronger, so do her Eight Legions. Since they’re all named, they’re connected to my soul, and they also receive blessings from Kumara’s own evolution… And that, as unfair as it may seem, gets fed back into Kumara, powering her up even more. It was like Kumara monopolized all the power I could give. I sensed some calculated scheming on her part, something very unbecoming of her beauty. That must be why she didn’t get along with the much more right-minded Apito too much.
Still, there’s no way such a rapid evolution couldn’t weigh Kumara down hard. She seemed to be struggling to stay conscious. She was a control risk at this rate, and I didn’t want her overdoing it. “Go back and rest,” I gently ordered her. She looked a little peeved but meekly listened to me.
Chances are she’d go to sleep like Ranga while she got used to her boosted force. Either way, I looked forward to her growth. I mean, she’s already a real looker at this point, but you know what I mean. For now, though, it was back to her guardian realm with her.
The event continued. Zegion and Apito were next, and I wanted to tackle the latter first.
“Apito, you fought a superb battle. That Minitz guy looked like one tough dude, even among the other imperial generals. You demonstrated strength equal to his, and that’s something to be proud of.”
I didn’t really mean for Apito to get as strong as that at first. What I was looking for was honey, and as long as her hives produced enough high-quality goods, I was happy. But here she was, Insect Queen and part of the Ten Dungeon Marvels. Kind of odd, really.
“Don’t be silly. I am not even close to where I want to be. I have lost all my kin, and even then, that was only enough to fight to a draw.”
“No, no, that’s not—”
I was trying to deny it, but when I saw Apito’s smile, I stopped.
“This time, I was unable to seize complete victory. Thus, I do not see myself as worthy of receiving a reward.”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“But if I am allowed to make a wish, would you allow the souls of my brethren who died in battle to reside within me once more?”
Hold on, what? She may not want a reward, but this wish seems pretty damn reckless to me! She must have the impression that I’m this omnipotent wonder slime, but she’s wrong. I just don’t see how that could be—
Report. It is possible.
Oh, I can?!
Maybe Raphael’s the omnipotent one around here.
“All right. In that case, I will instill the spirits of the dead within you.”
Apito’s brethren were magical insects we hadn’t gotten around to giving Resurrection Bracelets to. I’m not sure if they had “spirits,” exactly, but it seemed appropriate.
“Thank you kindly. This pleases me greatly.”
Apito didn’t qualify for an evolution, but I figured she’d have a blessing coming her way via Zegion’s. I was planning to ask what she wanted all along, and she seemed happy with this, so I guessed that was the right approach.
Next came Zegion. He was the strongest among the Marvels, so I considered putting him off for now, but I also felt like there wasn’t much need for worry. One look at his calm demeanor told me he didn’t seem to be in any danger of going berserk. It’s just what I would expect from the most powerful member of the labyrinth. Even Raphael acknowledged his unparalleled combat sense, and his magicule count rivaled Benimaru’s. No wonder he was good enough to train under Veldora, learning some wacky fighting moves picked up from manga along the way.
It explained his performance in this past battle, too. Zegion single-handedly defeated the strongest members of the imperial army, hardened soldiers the other Marvels struggled with. Taking them all at once like he did, he’d look like an idiot if he lost… But he crushed them with ease, wasting no time beating even the worst among them. He had definitely proven his might, and really, I think he might be stronger than your average demon lord. Even with my “true demon lord” awakening, I fear he could still beat me if I blew it bad.
And I wanted to awaken this guy…? Suddenly I wasn’t so sure about this. Diablo and his kin couldn’t beat him, either. Too late for that, huh? Maybe I was creating the equivalent of several awakened demon lords here, but there was no point chewing my fingernails over it now.
I had given souls to five people so far, and the evolution ritual was now well underway—in fact, I’d been starting to feel power flow into me, as of a little while ago. My Food Chain skill was feeding the results of the sleeping recipients’ Harvest Festival back to me. It was a massive amount of force, but my body was taking it in without any problem. I guess all this promotion was tapping my reserves.
No problem, then. Momentum is important with this kind of thing, so let’s keep this ball rolling, I say. Don’t fall back now—keep going! And look at it this way—how strong do you think Zegion will turn out? Isn’t that exciting? It was for me anyway. The thing is, remember, that thanks to Food Chain, even if there’s a chance he’d surpass me, I’d always wind up on top in the end.
Hoping that turned out to actually be true, I continued with the ritual, shelving my worries.
“Your strength astounds me. Honestly, I never thought you would attain these heights.”
“It is all thanks to your guidance, Sir Rimuru.”
No, that was Veldora mentoring you…
…Hang on. Raphael was lurking in the shadows with this, too, huh? Maybe Zegion thought that was me all along. Correcting him would take too long to explain, though, so let’s just go with that.
“Enough modesty. It is your unrelenting efforts that brought you this far. I hope you continue to refine your strength for me—and from this day forward, I hereby grant you the title of Mist Lord!”
“Yes, my lord! Nothing could elate me more!”
Zegion was as reticent as ever, but even I could tell how moved and shaken he was by my words. I was just speaking off the cuff, but it must’ve sounded like the gospel to him. He must be applying more of a “worship” filter than I thought—but being adored like this isn’t such a bad thing, is it? And here I thought I was just protecting a rare insect for the future. I guess it’s me being protected all along.
There was nothing predictable about his growth. His talents were off the charts. He was basking in a dense cloud of magicules leaking out from Veldora, and he had a training environment where he could be revived after death. Add to that the best training partner anyone could have, and you couldn’t ask for much more.
But there was no point quibbling over the details behind the process. He was stronger at the end of it, and that’s what mattered. So I granted him my souls. He shook for just a moment, but then his will pushed back the flood of power, bringing it fully under his control. Unlike Gabil, it was pure spirit that tamed it. At this rate, I probably looked pretty gutless for falling asleep for so long. You wouldn’t think this was something you could conquer through sheer willpower or guts or whatever… But now I was seeing examples of exactly that, so there wasn’t much denying it.
So that was Zegion’s evolution, but there was something even more terrifying about it. He had literally willed part of his outer shell to transform into the divine metal of crimson steel. Not only was he demonstrating control over the laws of physics—he had made his exoskeleton into a God-class suit of armor. His own body was a weapon, and in melee combat, I pretty much had to call him the strongest out there. For spiritual life-forms like Zegion, combat strength doesn’t necessarily equate to one’s social status… But there’s no doubting how much of a threat he is. Even now, in the middle of his evolution, it looked like he was already acquiring a litany of other powers. I think we better sit down later and see exactly what all he obtained.
Zegion seemed to be doing a pretty good job suppressing the power coursing into him, but there was no doubting that the Harvest Festival was underway. And as I anticipated, only Apito received any secondary blessings from it. Those two were the only ones I gave aid to by providing my own cell matter, so by definition, Apito is Zegion’s only blood relative.
There were loads of other dangerous species in the labyrinth’s insect floor, of course, but they had been all but wiped out in this battle. We couldn’t resurrect any of them, sadly; we’d just have to wait for them to be naturally replenished. This regrettably included Apito’s closer family… But the souls of all these bugs had just been given to her. I wondered what she was planning to do with them, but it looked like she wanted to use them to strengthen herself. We’ll see the results once her evolution is all said and done.
Apito’s expression wasn’t pained in the slightest as she played her role in this event. She remained wholly calm and dignified, like the queen she was. Just like Zegion, I really had to hand it to her. I felt a little bit cowed, even, as I ordered them back to their positions.
………
……
…
Once this celebration ended, Zegion and Apito both returned to their respective labyrinth lairs and wove themselves cocoons where they could complete their evolutions.
Between the blessing from Zegion and the souls from her kin and the bugs serving under her, Apito took in an enormous amount of energy. It caused her own body to break apart inside the cocoon, reconstructing itself to become stronger and more battle-ready. She was literally reborn, and through the unique skill Motherly Queen that she acquired, she created a total of nine insect-type magic-born, each with multiple insectoid traits of their own.
Motherly Queen was the ability to take in the internal biology of any insects she consumed and re-create them as magic-born. These were the first bricks, so to speak, of the new insect hierarchy that would grow over time—with Apito reigning as their one true queen. She was one of the Dungeon Marvels, but she was also a servant of Zegion’s—and Zegion wasn’t shy with the favors and blessings he gave her. That was more than enough explanation for why Apito went through such an astonishing evolution.
And if Apito evolved this much only through a secondary blessing, it was a given that Zegion would change even further. Although his physical strength was already at the apex of its evolutionary abilities, the amount of magicules in his possession now eclipsed the awakened Clayman’s. But what really stole the spotlight was a certain skill he obtained through his evolution.
Apito’s Motherly Queen was totally a game-breaking skill, something almost sinful in what it accomplished. It was astounding enough, but Zegion’s was on another level. He had acquired the ultimate skill Mephisto, Lord of Illusion, and ultimate is exactly what it was—truly befitting of someone apprenticed to Veldora.
With this power, Zegion was now the undisputed king of the labyrinth. Between that and the insect paradise Apito would soon work to build, the Dungeon now had a king and a queen, and the rule over the realm was absolute.
With those two underway, only Adalmann and his faithful assistant remained among the labyrinth dwellers.
There’s no doubting Adalmann’s intense faith in me, as well as the fact that he’s a bit—okay, a lot—of a freako. Cut from the same cloth as Diablo, I suppose you could say. It’s helped me tap into holy magic, though, so it’s not all bad, but…
It turned out that Adalmann was good friends with old man Gadora all along; they had engaged in assorted research together back in the day. That’s why he was able to craft the extra skill Holy-Evil Inversion, which neatly eliminated the main weak point that he had. I didn’t give it a lot of attention at first, but in a way, this was kind of a genius move. It was a little funny to call him smart despite not having, you know, a brain to think with, but that’s how monsters roll, I suppose.
Of course, some monsters really don’t need a brain—their intellectual makeup resides in their astral or spiritual bodies instead. There are even some supernatural creatures who think with their “hearts,” so to speak, instead of any brain organ. Think of it as kind of like people who’ve gained the Complete Memory skill, such as Shion. All that does is re-create memories, of course, but it opens up the potential for thinking purely with one’s soul and astral body… And once you achieve that, it pretty much releases you from a physical life span and punches your ticket to spiritual livelihood. Once that happens, pretty much no physical attack can deal fatal damage, and if your physical body’s torn apart, you can regenerate it at will. Only certain special attacks, or weapons graded Legend or higher, would be any kind of threat.
Adalmann hadn’t quite reached that point. Wight kings like him are spiritual monsters, yes, but he’s still bound by the yoke of his physical body. His thought processes are all contained within his spiritual body so there’s no such thing as dying of old age for him—but even so, he cannot continue existing with just his soul and astral body. He was this close to becoming a spiritual life-form, but he wasn’t quite immortal yet—that kind of thing.
The same was true for his cohort, Alberto the Death Paladin, not to mention the death dragon they kept on their floor. They were all conscious enough to cover for those weaknesses of theirs while fighting, as well. Adalmann specializes in long-distance magic salvos; he supports Alberto on the front line while also providing magical support of his own. The death dragon is always airborne, dumping attacks from above, and if Alberto ever gets too damaged or fatigued, it would immediately take his place as the tank. This teamwork had become a proven winner for them.
Sadly, their opponent this time was simply too much for them to handle. There’s always someone better than you out there, I suppose. If you’re enough of a fighting master to wield Legend-class gear—Hinata’s Holy Spirit Armor, for one—then you can basically cancel out any attribute-based attack out there, even the “undead” element. Hakuro was capable of that, for example, and I’m sure he’d make masterful use of the Legend-class sword I gave him, greatly boosting his battle abilities.
…So it’s great to have someone like that on our side, but it was our foe who carried a Legend-class blade this time. And not just any old foe—it was the top elites among the Imperial Guardians, the great force the Empire boasted. Alberto’s sword, whether it was a failed experiment from Kurobe or not, was still an excellent, Unique-class piece of work—but it couldn’t hold a candle to a Legend. Alberto was only able to hold his own with an inferior weapon because he was the more skillful fighter. His sword shattered on him in the end, sealing their defeat, but it’d simply be wrong to blame him for that loss. If anything, he deserved praise for putting up such a good fight.
“I’m sure you felt the result was disappointing, but all of you fought brilliantly nonetheless. That goes especially for you, Alberto. Your swordsmanship knows no peer.”
“It awes me to hear that, my lord.”
“You as well, Adalmann. The next thing I knew, you’ve fully mastered the magic I taught you. I think we could all learn a thing or two from your unflagging diligence.”
I may not look it, but I hate lifting a finger when I don’t have to. I only dive into subjects that I have a personal interest in. But since he has a reliable, intelligent partner in Raphael overseeing matters instead of me, I’m sure Adalmann’s hard work will prove incredibly valuable to us all.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly portray my wisdom as anywhere close to yours, Sir Rimuru.”
Not my wisdom. Raphael’s. Not that I’m gonna point that out.
“No need for modesty, Adalmann. Now, I will grant you yet more power. I hope you will take the needed lessons from this defeat and grow even more for me!”
“Your kind generosity for a defeated servant like me only drives me to strive ever harder! I will work myself to the bone for you, Sir Rimuru!”
He was tearfully choking out the words. I wish he wouldn’t phrase it that way.
However, Adalmann was also the other awardee here today who turned down my offer at evolution when I mentioned it to him.
“My lord, unlike everyone else here, I am a defeated man, something I cannot forgive myself for. Someone as incompetent as me, potentially reaching the same level of awakening as you… Perhaps, when I am given another opportunity and achieve greater successes than now, I will be better able to accept this lofty honor!”
That’s how he put it, but I managed to coax and push him into it anyway.
I mean, honestly, I didn’t expect much of anything from him in the first place. Back when Shinji’s party stormed their way up to Floor 60, I all but expected the Adalmann trio to go down hard. But now they’ve far surpassed my expectations. They were just a poor match for Krishna, their opponent this time around; that was all there was to it.
So partly as encouragement to keep him from working himself “to the bone” and so on, I tapped some of my soul supply for Adalmann. It wasn’t what we had planned for at all, but the labyrinth was going to remain our final stronghold for a while to come. It’s important to shore up its defenses, and Adalmann’s evolution was an important part of that.
The labyrinth contained all our vital R & D facilities, and we could even quarantine the entire capital inside it during emergencies. I never even imagined what a boon it’d be when I invited Ramiris to stay with us. I saw her labyrinth as a personal sandbox, but now it was our most formidable fortress. That was all thanks to Ramiris—and Veldora as well. I made a mental note to express my gratitude to them later on as I addressed Adalmann.
“I know you feel that your performance was below your standards, but you have my utmost esteem nonetheless. I hope you’ll prove that I was right with your future efforts!”
“Yes, my lord! I promise I will live up to your lofty expectations!”
So Adalmann’s evolution began. He proved to be no exception—an irresistible drowsiness soon descended upon him. I didn’t want him suffering thanks to me, so let’s keep this evolution ritual going.
“I’ll take your word on that, indeed. From this day forward, you may call yourself the Gehenna Lord. May you keep striving to live up to that title!”
“Absolutely, my lord…”
Whew. It’s hard to sound all dignified like that for extended periods of time. And I should add, it’s hard to come up with titles like this. I was up all night pondering over them. I mean, I don’t need to sleep, so I was more bored than anything, but…
…Anyway, I decided to give Adalmann the title of lord, which was quickly beginning to signify the top rank within my hierarchy. We might see more lords in the future, but for now, Adalmann was one of only twelve to be awarded that rank. It made him one of the most powerful military figures in the world, and I’m sure it’d give Adalmann more of a voice in Tempest affairs…assuming I ever gave him the chance to speak up.
Now, Adalmann was hardly the only top performer here. Alberto was still kneeling by Adalmann, who was now visibly fighting his desire to sleep. Behind him, the death dragon was hunched over, trying to make its huge frame as small as possible. They’d both received blessings from their boss’s evolution, so casual conversation probably wasn’t their first priority.
So I decided to grant Alberto some new battle gear to replace his broken sword. He already had overwhelming sword skills, so with the right weapon in hand, that’d easily be doubled. And while I was at it, I thought, why not give him some of Kurobe’s best work to date?
…But then I reconsidered. Among the spoils of war we seized from the enemy were a small cache of Legend-class gear. Caligulio, their enemy’s top general, even had some God-class items—extremely rare in the best of situations. It’d be a waste to just hang that stuff up in a museum somewhere. I tried palming it off on Kurobe, but he said he didn’t need it, claiming that “I can create my own God-class gear by now, sir!” And he was right. Benimaru’s own blade was about to be reforged by Kurobe’s hands to God-class tier. That much I was assured of, so I decided not to foist this gear on him, after all.
So who’s the right recipient here? As Caligulio made clear enough, merely being awakened didn’t make you truly worthy of God-class gear. Once you reached that level, the equipment chose the owner, not the other way around—I didn’t need a fancy analysis to see that. Something gets called God class, I feel, when after many years, the magisteel inside it evolves into crimson steel and assumes a sort of spiritual existence as a tool—a concept called tsukumogami in Japanese. This means the owner has to be worthy of the item in order to wield it, I imagine, and that’s just not gonna happen within a human being’s life span.
Here, meanwhile, we had a noble soul that had become undead, exposed to endless hardship, and still never lost his skills as an acolyte. Now Alberto was a Death Paladin, and for him the concept of a life span was meaningless. He had been applying himself, studying hard and acquiring sword skills that rivaled Hakuro’s. Maybe he’d be the right person for this weapon? I thought so anyway.
Besides, everyone else in my entourage already had their preferred weapons on hand. Some of them even refused to carry anything not made in Kurobe’s forge, such was the trust they had in him. Diablo and the three demonesses, meanwhile, could use the skill Create Material to manifest whatever gear they wanted. The results performed in proportion with the skill of the owner, and for the demons, they could easily surpass Legend-level protection. They had zero need to carry any preexisting armor around.
Some people, like Shion, liked pouring magic power into their weapon all the time, out of sheer love. Maybe that’s why the longsword Shion preferred had now evolved into Goriki-maru Version 2, with Legend-class murdering capability, without me even really noticing. Her sword did break, didn’t it? I’m pretty sure I saw it get cut in half in the battle against Razel, but now it was good as new. Just like Shion herself, the blade had risen from the ashes like a phoenix.
It was more exasperating than surprising, if you ask me. That—and scary. And they say Shion puts a lot of love into her cooking, too, but if so, what the hell does her “love” consist of, exactly?! Whatever it was, it could resurrect a shattered sword. Did I really want to consume a meal chock-full of that stuff?
This was turning into a dangerous train of thought. Time to get back to business. Now that I knew owner compatibility was a big issue with battle gear, I decided that I didn’t need to give my top brass anything new for the time being. That was a good enough reason in itself, but Raphael was the one who convinced me in the end, assuring me that Alberto was the best person to receive this God-class blade. I nodded, not questioning its judgment one bit, and decided to go ahead with it.
So Alberto would be rewarded with a complete set of God-class gear—a full suit of armor, with a longsword and kite shield thrown in.
“Alberto, your swordsmanship is among the best in the world. In recognition of this, I grant you this battle gear. Please maintain your world-class skill as you continue to shine in the service of Adalmann!”
“Yes, my lord!”
At my cue, Shuna stepped up pushing a wagon with all the gear piled on it. Alberto watched her hand it over to him, visibly shaking with anxiety.
“This… This is…”
He must have noticed the caliber of this stuff at first glance. The astonishment was clear in his quivering voice. I can’t blame him—there are only a few known examples of this sort of stuff in existence, making them quite literally the gifts of the gods. Being able to handle gear like this is among the highest honors a knight could receive in this world.
“Do you think you can use this gear?”
I’m not about to take no for an answer. Sensing the pressure from my gaze, Alberto drummed up his fortitude.
“Of course, Sir Rimuru! And I swear I will live up to your dreams…!”
His voice echoed through the coliseum, and I was glad he was so over the moon over it.
The moment he touched the God-class armor, it naturally wrapped itself all around his body. It had no problem accepting him as its new master, apparently. But I did make one miscalculation. Once it gained this true master, the armor’s capabilities wildly exceeded anything that I was expecting.
As long as Alberto wielded this gear, he essentially functioned as an incarnated spiritual life-form. That was the true power of God-class equipment—its ability to temporarily upgrade a being with physical form into one with spiritual form instead. And a spiritual life-form is, in so many words, a godlike existence, like Veldora and, well, me, I guess. It doesn’t really feel that way, but I’m definitely quite close to immortality. I know I won’t age anyway, and it seemed pretty likely that I’d never die—not unless I lost my magicules or experienced a core break in my heart.
In other words, spiritual life-forms experienced no natural death, were immune to all kinds of status ailments, and could overcome death itself through sheer power of will. That ability to raise people to the same level as such wondrous supernatural beings was enough to convince anyone that God-class gear was truly extraordinary.
At the same time, I could understand why Raphael recommended Alberto. Benimaru will be evolving into a spiritual life-form on his own, and Ranga and Shion are kind of following in his footsteps, so I’m sure it’ll happen to them, too. I didn’t think Gabil and Geld were quite there yet, and giving them God-class gear wouldn’t change that. Alberto truly was the right man for this stuff, in the right place at the right time—and that was that.
And I can’t forget about Adalmann’s pet dragon, either. His death dragon put in a killer effort, too, so I definitely wanted to award it somehow. I pondered over what to give, but it wasn’t long before I had the perfect answer—a name. No better way to make a monster overjoyed than naming it, right? This would come with some danger normally, but I have Raphael with me. I’m sure he’ll keep me safe and regulate the magicule flow and all that.
Proposal. In this case, there is already a bond between the subject Adalmann and the death dragon. Rather than creating a soul corridor here, I recommend consuming souls for the purpose of naming it.
Hmm?
That’s an unexpected suggestion from Raphael, but if I opt for that, how many souls are we talking about?
Understood. Five thousand. Proceed?
Yes
No
If it’s around five thousand, that does sound like a much safer approach. Raphael had apparently analyzed my souls on hand and figured out a way to convert them into magicules via Belzebuth, Lord of Gluttony. It was guaranteed not to be dangerous at all, I was told, so how about we go with that?
I stood in front of the death dragon, patting its head. It appeared to be pretty nervous about this. Scary-looking, for sure, but still awfully cute.
“I have a reward for you, too, okay? From this day forward, your name is Venti, Dragon Lord of the Underworld!”
The souls were consumed, and the naming was completed. After that, several dramatic changes took place. The gigantic body of the death dragon, well over twenty yards long, began to shrink, and shrink, and shrink, until what I saw before me was a beautiful woman wearing a dark robe.
Uh, who’s this? I thought for a moment. But I didn’t let it faze me. With monsters, anything goes, really. That’s something I’ve experienced more than I care to admit, and what I’ve learned as a result is that panic will get me nowhere. I did my best not to show my agitation, maintaining an “of course this would happen” attitude as best I could. I think I did a good job, too.
“Ah, my most beloved of beautiful gods! I am awed at the blessings you have bestowed upon my lowly body!”
Oh, sure, yeah. Of course you could talk just fine. Also, I just gave you a name, okay? Any blessings you received came from Adalmann, not me. I think we’re seeing a mix of effects here, but let’s keep that straight, all right?
“Ohhh, how wonderful for you, Death—er, Venti!”
“Yes, Master. Our god has not forsaken me after all!”
“Indeed. Our faith has been duly rewarded.”
“It has!”
What a beautiful master-servant relationship. I felt like I was being left in the dust, but hey, good for them.
And so Adalmann and his servants had all received their gifts.
Consuming souls to name monsters is actually pretty darn convenient, isn’t it? If you go around naming Dragon Lord–class creatures, there’s really no telling how many magicules that’ll consume. Even with Raphael overseeing things, I don’t have infinite magicules, you know.
Belzebuth had helped me gradually stockpile more and more magicules, but I used nearly the whole supply naming Testarossa and the other demons. I could have tapped Veldora for some assistance, but I don’t think he’d like doing that too much, and getting him to change his mood about something requires monumental effort. That’s best kept as a last resort, I thought.
I also didn’t want myself inadvertently going into sleep mode after an impromptu naming binge. I was running on a much higher baseline of magicules now, and I had no idea how long I’d need to recover from being tapped out. We were still at war here, and this was one dangerous gamble I absolutely had to step away from. With this approach, though, I was home free.