Chapter 1: The Experiment of Questionable Origins
The mid-afternoon sun filtered through the high arched windows of Rimuru Tempest's private research chamber, casting long golden rays across the meticulously carved magical circle that dominated the polished stone floor. Rimuru stood at its center, currently in his preferred human form—a slender figure with flowing blue hair and striking golden eyes—carefully reviewing the final calculations etched into the margins of an ancient scroll.
"Veldora," Rimuru called out without looking up, his voice echoing slightly in the spacious chamber. "You're absolutely certain these texts are accurate? Not just 'kind of' or 'maybe' accurate, but genuinely reliable?"
The Storm Dragon Veldora Tempest lounged against a bookshelf, his imposing human form casually flipping through a manga volume he'd smuggled into what was supposed to be a serious magical research session. At Rimuru's question, he glanced up with a broad grin that immediately aroused suspicion.
"Of course they're accurate!" Veldora declared, his voice booming with characteristic overconfidence. "Would I, the great Storm Dragon, bestow anything less than perfection upon my sworn brother? These texts come from the ancient archives of the Beast Kingdom, preserved for ten thousand years by their most learned scholars!"
Rimuru raised an eyebrow, noting several telling details: the suspicious tea stains on one scroll corner, what appeared to be cookie crumbs nestled in a crease, and what he strongly suspected was a doodle of Veldora himself adding "improvements" to one of the magical formulae.
"That's not answering my actual question," Rimuru pointed out dryly. "I specifically asked if you had actually read them before bringing them to me for this experiment."
"Well..." Veldora suddenly found the ceiling architecture fascinating, scratching his cheek in what Rimuru had come to recognize as his 'creative truth-telling' gesture. "I skimmed the essential parts. Thoroughly. Very thoroughly. The summoning array will establish interdimensional communication pathways, bringing forth elemental spirits and minor familiars to enhance Tempest's magical infrastructure." The dragon's enthusiasm returned full force as he slapped Rimuru on the back hard enough to send the slime stumbling forward. "Nothing to worry about whatsoever!"
Rimuru sighed, steadying himself. Working with Veldora was like babysitting a nuclear warhead with the personality of an overexcited puppy—boundless energy combined with catastrophic potential. "I've positioned Diablo and Shion outside as a precaution. Just in case."
"A completely unnecessary precaution!" Veldora insisted, waving a dismissive hand. "Think of it as simply grabbing a few magical assistants from across the dimensional veil. Like interdimensional recruitment! Simple!"
"Simple," Rimuru echoed skeptically, taking his position at the array's center. "That's what you said about the 'minor weather manipulation' that created a typhoon over the eastern forest last month. Shuna still hasn't forgiven me for the mud that ruined her favorite kimono."
"A minor miscalculation," Veldora said defensively. "Besides, the trees grew better afterward!"
Rimuru adjusted his stance, centering himself over the precise middle of the elaborate runic pattern. "Let's just get this over with. I have a trade meeting with the Dwargon representatives this evening that I'd prefer to attend without magical backlash injuries."
The intricate patterns began to glow as Rimuru channeled his magicules into the array, following the activation sequence described in the ancient texts. The lines brightened from soft blue to brilliant white, pulsing with escalating energy that sent ripples through the magical atmosphere of the chamber.
"Um, Rimuru..." Veldora's voice had lost its usual bombastic confidence, replaced by a tone that made Rimuru's metaphorical stomach sink. "I don't recall the text mentioning anything about reality-tearing golden cracks..."
Rimuru's eyes snapped open to see fractures in space itself spreading outward from the array like golden lightning, bright light pouring through them with increasing intensity. The chamber trembled as magical pressure built exponentially beyond the calculated parameters.
"Veldora!" Rimuru's voice held both accusation and alarm. "What exactly did these texts supposedly say? What am I actually summoning here?!"
"Perhaps I misinterpreted a few symbols?" the dragon offered weakly, backing prudently toward the reinforced door. "The ancient Beast Kingdom dialect has some nuances that—"
"That what? Turn 'minor familiars' into 'reality-breaking catastrophes'?!" Rimuru interrupted, frantically trying to modulate the flow of magicules into the array. The fractures continued spreading despite his efforts, now reaching the chamber walls.
The room shuddered violently as the array's power spiked dramatically, magicules spiraling wildly into the center in quantities that made Rimuru's magical senses scream in warning. The air pressure dropped suddenly—that ominous moment of silence before disaster—followed by an explosion of light so intense that both Rimuru and Veldora had to shield their eyes, the force of it sending scrolls and magical instruments flying across the room.
For a long, tense moment, blinding light consumed everything. Then, gradually, it receded, withdrawing like an outgoing tide to reveal what waited at the center of the now-smoking magical array.
When Rimuru finally lowered his arm and blinked the spots from his vision, he stared in undisguised shock.
Where he had expected minor elemental spirits—perhaps a few magical wisps or small familiars—four women stood in perfect formation, each radiating such intense power that his magical senses felt nearly overwhelmed. This wasn't just interdimensional communication; it was a full-blown summoning of beings whose auras felt less like people and more like natural disasters contained in human form.
"Storm Dragon," Rimuru said with deceptive calm, his voice soft but carrying an edge that made Veldora wince, "I believe we need to have a serious conversation about your definition of 'minor familiars.'"
Before Veldora could formulate a defense, the reinforced doors burst open with enough force to splinter the ornate wood. Shion rushed in first, her massive odachi already unsheathed, her violet hair flowing behind her as she immediately positioned herself between Rimuru and the unknown entities.
"Lord Rimuru!" she exclaimed, eyes darting between the summoned women with professional assessment of their threat level. "Are you injured? We felt the magical disruption throughout the entire capital!"
Diablo entered a moment later, his movements more controlled but no less urgent. Unlike Shion's obvious alarm, the primordial demon's expression showed intense curiosity mingled with concern, his usually composed features tense as he analyzed the magical signatures filling the room.
"Most interesting," he murmured, eyes narrowed. "These beings possess auras unlike anything native to our world."
"I'm unharmed," Rimuru assured them, though his eyes never left the four summoned women. "But I believe we have... unexpected guests."
The shortest of the women—barely five feet tall with golden hair styled in an elegant bun secured by a vivid red ribbon—stepped forward with such imperious confidence that even Shion hesitated in her protective stance. Despite her diminutive stature, the blonde radiated such overwhelming presence that the very air seemed to bend in acknowledgment of her importance.
"I am Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, Fifth Emperor of Rome, Saber-class Servant!" she announced with theatrical flair, striking a pose that somehow managed to be both regal and flamboyant simultaneously. One hand rested on her hip while the other gestured expressively, her crimson dress catching the light dramatically. "I have answered your summons, though this is... unexpected. You are not the typical Master I would have anticipated."
Her emerald eyes scrutinized Rimuru with undisguised curiosity before she declared with absolute certainty: "You lack the common aesthetics of humanity, yet possess a certain charm! Your hair color is most pleasing—almost imperial in its hue!"
Before Rimuru could respond to this bizarre assessment, another blonde woman—this one with a long braid and gentle violet eyes—stepped forward with composed grace. Unlike the first, who emanated imperial pride bordering on arrogance, this one radiated a serene dignity that seemed to calm the very atmosphere around her.
"I am Jeanne d'Arc," she introduced herself with a slight, respectful bow, her silver armor catching the light. "Holy Maiden of Orleans, Ruler-class Servant." Her voice carried a gentle authority that contrasted sharply with Nero's bombastic proclamation. "May I ask who has called us forth, and to what purpose? This summoning bears unusual energies."
"I, um—" Rimuru began, but was immediately interrupted by a third woman stepping forward.
"Artoria Pendragon, King of Knights," she stated simply, her emerald eyes assessing the room with tactical precision. Her armor gleamed silver against her blue dress, her expression composed and regal. Despite her similar height to Nero, her bearing was entirely different—less theatrical, more subdued yet undeniably authoritative. "This is clearly not a standard Holy Grail War summoning. We have been brought across dimensions, fully manifest rather than spiritual."
The fourth woman remained slightly apart from the others, her very presence distorting the space around her. With flowing silver-white hair that moved as if underwater and eyes that seemed to contain galaxies, she didn't immediately introduce herself, instead studying Rimuru with unsettling intensity that made even Diablo shift uncomfortably.
"You," she finally spoke, her voice resonating with subtle power that seemed to echo from everywhere at once. "You are neither mortal nor divine. A curious existence—not human, yet humanoid. Not monster, yet monstrous. Not god, yet godlike." The floating spears around her adjusted their formation slightly. "I am Durga, though your world would have different names for me. I find your karmic structure... intriguing."
"Well, this is fascinating!" Veldora exclaimed, seeming to have entirely forgotten his role in the catastrophe. He bounded forward with childlike enthusiasm, circling the summoned women with unrestrained curiosity. "Four legendary heroes from across dimensions! What a spectacular success!"
"Success?!" Rimuru spun to face his draconic friend, barely containing his incredulity. "The spell was supposed to bring minor familiars for magical research, not—" he gestured frantically at the four women, "—not legendary queens and goddesses with the power to reshape reality!"
"An improvement, clearly," Veldora declared, crossing his arms with smug satisfaction. "Why settle for minor spirits when you could have legendary heroes? This is why you keep me around, Rimuru—my vision exceeds the mundane!"
"I keep you around because most nations lack the firepower to make you leave," Rimuru muttered under his breath, before turning back to address their unexpected visitors. "I apologize for the chaotic welcome. I am Rimuru Tempest, leader of the Jura Tempest Federation. This summoning was... not entirely intentional."
Nero's delighted laugh cut through the tension, bright and confident. "Umu! No need for apologies! Fortune has favored you with my imperial presence! Though I must say," she added, glancing around the research chamber with critical assessment, "this summoning lacks proper ceremony. Where are the roses? The adoring crowds? The arena of my triumph?" She sighed dramatically. "Still, I shall overlook these deficiencies, as your blue hair shows promising aesthetic sense!"
"An accidental summoning?" Artoria's eyebrows rose slightly, her expression thoughtful. "That would explain the unusual circumstances. I sense no Command Seals, no Holy Grail energies connecting us."
"Yet we are fully materialized," Jeanne observed, looking at her own hands with mild surprise. "Not as spiritual entities requiring magical energy from a Master, but in complete physical form."
"The boundaries between worlds have been unusually thin of late," Durga commented, her feet barely touching the ground as she drifted slightly toward a window to gaze out upon Tempest. "Perhaps this is the work of greater cosmic forces."
"Or perhaps," Diablo suggested smoothly, stepping forward with a calculating smile, "it is simply fate that brought four such distinguished guests to our nation." He bowed deeply, one hand placed elegantly over his heart. "As Lord Rimuru's loyal servant, I welcome you to Tempest. Our nation may be young, but our hospitality is boundless."
Shion, still gripping her sword, looked far less welcoming, her protective instincts clearly battling with diplomatic necessity. "Lord Rimuru," she said in a lowered voice, though not low enough to escape the enhanced hearing of their visitors, "should I prepare defensive measures? The magical energies these four emit are beyond anything I've encountered before."
"No, no," Rimuru said quickly, waving his hands in a placating gesture. "They're our guests. Unexpected guests, but guests nonetheless." He turned back to the four women with what he hoped was a diplomatic smile. "We'll do everything to make your stay comfortable while we figure out... well, everything."
"Umu! How wise!" Nero proclaimed, clapping her hands together with childlike delight. "Treating an Emperor with proper deference! I shall reward such wisdom by granting you my temporary presence while we determine how to return to our respective worlds." She spun in a circle, her crimson dress flaring dramatically. "Now, where shall my imperial chambers be located? Nothing too modest, I hope! I require at minimum a marble bath, rose-scented linens, and a choir to sing me to sleep!"
"I require no special accommodations," Artoria stated pragmatically. "Though I would appreciate understanding more about this world and how we came to be here."
"And perhaps," she added after a brief pause, "information about local cuisine traditions? For cultural understanding purposes, of course."
Jeanne nodded in agreement with Artoria's first statement. "The Lord works in mysterious ways. Perhaps there is divine purpose in our arrival that will reveal itself in time."
All eyes turned to Durga, who had drifted to one of the windows and was gazing out at Tempest's bustling streets with inscrutable interest.
"Your nation exists at an interesting nexus of energies," she observed without turning. "Corrupted magic pools in certain areas—residue of battles past, conflicting mana types, dimensional instabilities." Her spears realigned themselves in a new configuration. "I shall... consume these impurities. Consider it payment for hospitality."
Rimuru felt a headache building behind his temples. "Veldora, could you please fetch Shuna? We need to arrange suitable accommodations for our guests while we figure out... well, everything."
"Of course!" Veldora agreed enthusiastically. "And shall I inform Great Sage Eren of our magnificent success as well?"
"This is not a success," Rimuru muttered, but nodded nonetheless. "Yes, inform him. We'll need all the help we can get to understand what happened here and how to potentially reverse it."
As Veldora bounded from the room with childlike excitement, Rimuru turned back to the four summoned women, attempting his most diplomatic smile—the one he reserved for visiting dignitaries who could potentially level mountains.
"Ladies, welcome to Tempest. I apologize for the unconventional introduction, but I promise we'll do everything we can to make your stay comfortable—and to help you return home, if that's what you desire."
Nero laughed delightedly. "Oh, I think I shall enjoy this adventure! A new empire to charm, new subjects to adore me! I sense great theatrical potential in this unexpected summoning!"
"We are not here to conquer," Artoria reminded her firmly.
"Speak for yourself," Nero replied with a wink. "I simply mean to conquer their hearts!"
As the four powerful women began exploring the research chamber with varying degrees of interest—Nero admiring her reflection in a polished shield, Artoria examining the magical texts with scholarly focus, Jeanne studying the summoning circle with thoughtful concern, and Durga simply floating near the ceiling, observing everything with cosmic detachment—Rimuru leaned closer to Diablo and whispered, "On a scale of one to total catastrophe, how bad is this situation?"
Diablo's smile was as elegant as it was unsettling. "Let's call it a fascinating diplomatic opportunity with apocalyptic potential, my lord."
"That's what I was afraid of," Rimuru sighed, watching as Nero discovered a decorative vase and began critiquing its artistic merits with imperious authority.
Little did he know, this was only the beginning of Tempest's most chaotic diplomatic challenge yet.
Chapter 2: The Art of Royal Accommodations
By early evening, Tempest's royal residence had been thrown into a state of organized chaos that even the most experienced staff members found bewildering. Servants hurried through corridors carrying everything from extra blankets to rare magical artifacts, while maintenance crews worked frantically to reinforce specific sections of the building following a structural assessment that indicated "divine presence might exceed architectural specifications."
Rimuru stood in the central hallway of the guest wing, watching the frantic preparations with a growing sense of resignation. Beside him, Shuna consulted an ever-expanding list, somehow maintaining her composure despite the increasingly unusual requests.
"We've assigned the east wing for Lady Artoria—closest to the kitchens, as you suggested," Shuna reported, checking an item off her list. "Lady Jeanne will take the north chambers overlooking the temple gardens. Lady Durga..." she hesitated, "presented some unique challenges, but we've cleared the observatory tower for her use. The elevated position and open sky access seemed to please her."
"And Nero?" Rimuru asked, already anticipating the answer.
Shuna's serene expression flickered briefly. "The Emperor has rejected three chambers already as 'insufficiently imperial.' We're currently renovating the royal guest suite according to her... extensive specifications."
As if summoned by her name, Nero's voice echoed through the corridors with impressive volume for someone her size.
"Absolutely unacceptable!" The sound reverberated from around the corner, causing several goblin workers to scatter in alarm. "An Emperor requires proper quarters! This chamber is barely fit for a minor senator from a provincial territory!"
Rimuru and Shuna rounded the corner to find Nero standing in the doorway of what had previously been their most luxurious guest chamber—a spacious suite with hand-carved furniture, silk tapestries, and a private bathing chamber that had impressed even the Dwargon King during his last visit.
Shuna stepped forward, maintaining her gentle smile despite the tiny Roman Emperor's dramatic outburst. "These are our finest guest quarters, Lady Nero. They were designed specifically for visiting dignitaries and royalty."
"Then your standards for royalty are appallingly low," Nero declared, inspecting the spacious suite with critical eyes. "Where are the rose petals scattered hourly? The marble columns? The twenty-four-hour musical accompaniment? Even my military campaigns had better accommodations!" She gestured dramatically toward a particularly fine tapestry. "And this artwork! The composition lacks imperial grandeur! The color palette is pedestrian at best!"
Across the hallway, Artoria quietly accepted her own quarters with a polite nod to the ogre attendants. "These accommodations are more than adequate. You have my gratitude for your hospitality."
"See?" Nero pointed accusingly at the King of Knights. "Even Saber accepts this mediocrity! My standards are clearly superior! An emperor cannot rest in anything less than perfect splendor!"
"Perfection is rarely attainable in transient accommodations," Artoria commented mildly, arranging her sword carefully on a weapons stand. "Adaptability serves a ruler better than rigidity in unfamiliar territories."
"Hah! Says the king who slept in tents during campaigns!" Nero retorted. "I brought artisans to construct proper bathing facilities even on the battlefield!"
"A wasteful allocation of resources," Artoria observed calmly, though Rimuru noticed a slight tightening around her eyes that suggested this was an ongoing point of contention between them.
"It's not wasteful to maintain imperial standards!" Nero insisted. "Beauty and luxury inspire troops! They fought better knowing their Emperor appreciated refinement!"
Rimuru, watching this exchange with increasing concern, leaned toward Shion who had just arrived to report on security arrangements. "Is it too late to pretend this was all a bad dream and send them back?"
"Unfortunately, Lord Rimuru," Shion replied in a low voice, "According to preliminary reports from our mages, the dimensional rift has completely sealed itself. We'll need significant research to understand how to reopen it safely."
"Wonderful," Rimuru sighed, watching as Nero began directing goblin workers to rearrange furniture to create what she called a "proper imperial throne room" within her guest suite.
"At minimum," the Emperor was saying, "I require this wall to be painted crimson, these floors covered in appropriate mosaics—simple geometric patterns will suffice in a pinch—and this furniture replaced with something less... provincial." She made a face at a beautifully carved chair. "And where is my imperial bust? How are visitors to properly admire my visage without appropriate statuary?"
"I'll see what our artisans can manage," Shuna promised with admirable patience. "Though some modifications may take time."
"Time? An Emperor's needs are immediate!" Nero declared, though her expression softened slightly at Shuna's calm demeanor. "But... I suppose I can be magnanimous given the circumstances. Your effort to please me is noted and appreciated! Umu!"
Meanwhile, Jeanne had discovered the garden courtyard visible from her window and had quietly excused herself to explore it. Rimuru found her there several minutes later, kneeling in peaceful meditation beside a small pond where luminescent fish swam lazy circles among flowering lotus.
"This is truly lovely," she said without opening her eyes, somehow sensing Rimuru's approach. "A perfect place for prayer and contemplation."
"I'm glad you approve," Rimuru said, genuinely relieved that at least one of their guests seemed easily accommodated. "The gardens were Shuna's design. She incorporated plants from various regions to create harmony between different ecosystems."
Jeanne opened her eyes, watching the fish with gentle appreciation. "Your nation itself seems built on similar principles—different creatures living in harmony, despite their natural differences. It reminds me that the Lord's vision often includes unexpected alliances."
"We've had our challenges," Rimuru admitted, sitting nearby on a stone bench. "Not everyone believes monsters and humans can coexist peacefully."
"Faith often requires walking paths others consider impossible," Jeanne observed with a knowing smile. "I was once told a farm girl could never lead armies to victory."
A subtle change in air pressure alerted them to another presence before they saw her. The garden's atmosphere seemed to ripple as Durga drifted toward them, her silver hair floating as if underwater, orbiting spears adjusting their formation to avoid damaging the delicate foliage.
"This space has harmonious energy flow," she observed, her cosmic eyes taking in the garden's design. "Intentional alignment with natural ley lines. Skillfully done."
"Thank you," Rimuru replied, still finding it difficult to meet her gaze directly—like trying to stare into the depths of space itself. "Have your accommodations in the observatory tower proven suitable?"
"The proximity to the stars is... comfortable," Durga acknowledged. "I have located seven distinct corrupted magical nodes within your city's boundaries," she continued without transition. "I shall cleanse them. Your citizens may experience... sensations... during this process. Nothing fatal."
"Sensations?" Rimuru repeated nervously, exchanging a quick glance with Jeanne. "What kind of sensations exactly?"
"Temporary euphoria. Possible hallucinations. Brief experiences of existential unity," Durga listed dispassionately, as if reciting ingredients for a simple recipe. "Some may begin worshipping me spontaneously. This is normal."
"That doesn't sound normal at all!" Rimuru protested, rising to his feet.
"Your concept of normality is limited by your dimensional experience," Durga replied with serene certainty. "I will begin the purification at sunset." Without waiting for a response, she drifted away, her spears trailing behind her like obedient pets.
"Should we be concerned about that?" Jeanne asked quietly once Durga was out of earshot.
"Probably," Rimuru admitted, sinking back onto the bench. "But I'm not sure how to stop a being who casually mentions inducing spontaneous worship. Her power signature is... unlike anything I've encountered."
Jeanne nodded thoughtfully. "She exists beyond conventional divine frameworks. Even in my world, where gods and divine spirits are knowable entities, one such as her would be... exceptional."
"Lord Rimuru!" Diablo's voice called from the garden entrance. The primordial demon approached with quick, elegant steps, his usual smile replaced by an expression of mild concern. "We have a situation developing in the central marketplace."
"What now?" Rimuru groaned, wondering if it was too late to transform back into a simple slime and hide in a cave somewhere.
"It appears Lady Artoria discovered our food vendors," Diablo explained delicately. "She is... enthusiastic about sampling everything."
"That doesn't sound so bad," Rimuru said, relieved it wasn't another dire crisis.
"She has consumed seventeen vendor stalls' worth of food in under twenty minutes," Diablo continued, his voice maintaining its composed tone despite the absurdity of his report. "The vendors are thrilled with her praise but concerned about their remaining inventory. Also, she is challenging anyone who comments on her appetite to, and I quote, 'honorable combat to defend my dining rights.'"
"Has anyone accepted this challenge?" Jeanne asked, rising gracefully to her feet.
"Three of our warrior-class citizens attempted it," Diablo confirmed with the faintest hint of amusement. "They are currently being treated for minor injuries and significant blows to their pride. She was... remarkably efficient."
Rimuru pinched the bridge of his nose. "Where's Nero during all this?"
"The Emperor was last seen reorganizing her quarters, but—" Diablo began.
A tremendous crash echoed from the direction of the guest quarters, followed by imperious laughter.
"Umu! Much better! Now I can at least pretend to be in civilized accommodations!"
"I'll handle the Emperor," Jeanne volunteered with a resigned smile. "I've had some experience mediating between strong personalities."
"Thank you," Rimuru said gratefully. "I should probably check on Artoria before she bankrupts our food vendors—or fills our infirmary with challengers."
As he headed toward the marketplace with Diablo, Rimuru couldn't help but wonder how four women could cause more chaos in an hour than an army of invaders. More concerningly, he was beginning to suspect that this level of disruption might simply be their baseline existence.
"Where's Veldora in all this?" he asked suddenly, realizing the Storm Dragon had been suspiciously absent since delivering the news to Great Sage Eren.
Diablo's expression grew pained. "The Storm Dragon is currently following Lady Durga, peppering her with questions about 'divine combat techniques' and whether she has encountered 'any worthy dragon opponents' in her universe."
"Perfect," Rimuru muttered. "Just perfect."
The central marketplace of Tempest was normally a bustling, orderly affair—a testament to the cooperation between monsters and the few humans who had chosen to make the nation their home. Today, however, it resembled the aftermath of a very selective hurricane that had targeted only food stalls, leaving everything else untouched.
In the center of this culinary devastation sat Artoria Pendragon, King of Knights, methodically working her way through what appeared to be her twentieth serving of grilled meat skewers. A crowd of astonished onlookers had formed a respectful circle around her, their expressions vacillating between awe and horror as they witnessed eating habits that defied both physics and economy.
"These are exceptional," Artoria declared to the beaming lizardman vendor who had just delivered another platter. "The seasoning is particularly noteworthy—hints of herbs I don't recognize, but balanced perfectly with the natural flavor of the meat. In my kingdom, such culinary skill would earn you a place at the royal table."
"You honor me, Your Majesty!" the vendor replied, practically glowing with pride despite his depleted inventory.
Another vendor, a hobgoblin with a specialized skill in dessert-making, cautiously approached with what appeared to be a multilayered cake drizzled with magical fruit syrup.
"If it pleases Your Majesty," he began nervously, "this is our regional specialty—seven-layer honeydew cake with luminescent forest berry sauce. I would be honored if—"
"Yes," Artoria interrupted, her normally dignified expression transformed by undisguised eagerness. "I will sample this immediately."
Rimuru approached cautiously, navigating around discarded plates and awestruck vendors. "Enjoying our local cuisine, Lady Artoria?"
The blonde knight turned to him, her dignified expression contrasting sharply with the sauce smudge on her cheek. "Lord Rimuru. Yes, indeed. Your nation's food is remarkable. Such variety, such skill in preparation! I have rarely encountered such culinary diversity outside of special festivals."
She gestured with her fork at the half-devoured cake. "This confection, for instance—the magical properties of your local ingredients create flavor combinations impossible in my world. The subtle luminescence of the berries adds a textural element that complements the density of the cake."
"I'm glad you approve," Rimuru said, trying not to stare at the mountain of empty plates stacked beside her. "Though perhaps we should arrange for regular meals at the royal residence? Our vendors operate on limited daily stock, and at your current pace..."
"Ah," Artoria looked around, seeming to notice the devastation for the first time. A faint blush colored her cheeks as her eyes took in the empty stalls and stunned expressions. "I see I have been inconsiderate. My apologies. When it comes to food, I sometimes... forget myself."
She delicately wiped her mouth with a napkin, somehow reclaiming her regal bearing despite the evidence of her feast surrounding her. "It's a... peculiarity of my manifestation. My power requires significant energy maintenance."
"No apology necessary," Rimuru assured her quickly. "We're happy to provide for our guests. I simply suggest we might arrange something more... sustainable."
"A wise suggestion," Artoria agreed, rising to her feet with perfect poise—somehow managing to look majestic despite the feeding frenzy she'd just engaged in. "Perhaps I could even assist your royal chefs. I have some experience with cuisine from my own world."
"You cook?" Rimuru asked, surprised. Something about the Knight King's demeanor had suggested she was more accustomed to being served than serving.
A shadow passed over Artoria's face. "No. But I have extensive experience judging the efforts of others." She appeared to be recalling something unpleasant. "My knight Gawain had a particular... approach to cooking that taught me much about what to avoid."
"I see," Rimuru said, though he didn't really. "Well, shall we head back to the residence? I believe Shuna may have arranged a welcome feast for this evening."
"A feast?" Artoria's eyes brightened immediately, all traces of embarrassment vanishing. "Lead the way, Lord Rimuru. I shall reserve my appetite accordingly."
"That's what worries me," Rimuru murmured as they departed, leaving behind a marketplace of dumbfounded vendors counting their empty shelves and unexpectedly full coin purses.
As they walked, Rimuru noticed Artoria's observant gaze taking in every detail of Tempest—from architectural choices to the diverse mix of species coexisting peacefully.
"Your nation is unlike any I've encountered," she remarked thoughtfully. "In my experience, monsters and humans rarely coexist without conflict."
"It hasn't been easy," Rimuru admitted. "We've had to prove ourselves repeatedly to neighboring human kingdoms. Many still view monsters as inherently evil."
Artoria nodded. "Change requires both vision and persistence. And often, a leader willing to challenge traditional boundaries." She gave him an appraising look. "You bear that burden well for one so young in your leadership."
"I had another life before this one," Rimuru said carefully. "Some lessons carried over."
"Reincarnation?" Artoria didn't seem surprised. "Not unlike Servants, then. We carry memories and experiences from our original lives into new forms."
"Is that what you are? Servants?" Rimuru asked, seizing the opportunity to better understand their unexpected guests.
"In our world, yes," Artoria explained as they walked. "Heroic Spirits summoned from the Throne of Heroes—a realm outside of time where legendary souls reside after death. We are typically called forth to participate in conflicts over a powerful relic called the Holy Grail."
"So you're... technically dead?" Rimuru tried to frame the question delicately.
"Yes and no," Artoria replied. "My original body died, but my true spirit was preserved in Avalon, awaiting a specific fate. Others, like Nero and Jeanne, completed their mortal lives and ascended to the Throne. Durga..." she hesitated. "Durga's nature is different. She has aspects of divine spirits, though she manifests as a Servant."
"This is fascinating but concerning," Rimuru admitted. "If you're tied to your world's metaphysical systems, returning you might be even more complex than I first imagined."
"Indeed," Artoria agreed. "Though I must admit, a respite from Grail conflicts is not entirely unwelcome. And your cuisine..." A hint of a smile touched her lips. "...provides significant compensation for the inconvenience."
As they approached the royal residence, Rimuru noticed a gathering crowd in the central plaza, their attention fixed on something in the distance.
"What's happening there?" Artoria asked, hand instinctively moving toward her invisible sword.
Rimuru squinted, then sighed as he recognized the silver-haired figure floating above
Chapter 2: The Art of Royal Accommodations (Continued)
the plaza. Durga had begun her promised purification ritual earlier than expected, her orbiting spears rotating in increasingly complex patterns that drew mesmerizing light trails in the evening air.
"Is that...?" Artoria began, her expression sharpening with tactical assessment.
"Divine intervention, Tempest style," Rimuru sighed. "We should probably investigate before she accidentally creates a new religion."
They changed course, weaving through increasingly dense crowds of curious onlookers who seemed drawn to Durga's display like moths to flame. Rimuru noticed with growing concern that many citizens were exhibiting strange behavior—some swaying rhythmically, others staring with expressions of rapturous wonder, a few even prostrating themselves on the cobblestones.
"This isn't good," he muttered.
"Divine presence affects mortals profoundly," Artoria observed, seemingly unaffected herself. "Though this seems more... intense than typical spiritual influence."
They reached the edge of the plaza where Benimaru had established a perimeter of guards—most of whom appeared to be struggling against the same entrancement affecting the civilians.
"Lord Rimuru," Benimaru acknowledged with visible relief. "We attempted to establish crowd control, but..." he gestured helplessly at his guards, several of whom were now humming in harmony with the vibrations emanating from Durga's spears.
"What exactly is she doing?" Rimuru asked, watching as the cosmic entity raised her arms, causing her weapons to align in a perfect geometric formation above the plaza.
"Purifying corrupted magicules, apparently," Benimaru replied. "Though the process seems to have... side effects."
"I can see that," Rimuru said dryly, noting a group of usually stoic ogre warriors who had begun a spontaneous interpretive dance nearby. "Has anyone tried talking to her?"
"The Storm Dragon attempted communication," Benimaru reported, a hint of exasperation coloring his voice. "He was immediately affected and is currently reciting what he claims are 'cosmic poems' from atop that building." He pointed to where Veldora stood on a rooftop, dramatically declaiming to no one in particular, occasional bursts of storm energy punctuating what appeared to be improvised verses.
"Of course he is," Rimuru muttered. "Perfect."
"BEHOLD THE COSMIC DANCE!" Veldora's voice boomed across the plaza. "STORMS BETWEEN STARS! LIGHTNING THROUGH VOID! DRAGONS ASCENDANT!" A thunderclap emphasized his final word, causing several windows to rattle.
"Should I attempt to restrain him?" Benimaru asked with professional detachment.
"Let him perform," Artoria suggested unexpectedly. "He's actually drawing some attention away from Durga's ritual. Might be useful."
Rimuru considered this. "Good point. Let's try to get closer to Durga without becoming... whatever that is." He nodded toward a group of merchants who had linked arms and were spinning in slow circles, their expressions beatific.
They cautiously approached the clearing where Durga hovered, her feet never quite touching the ground. Up close, the air felt charged, like the moment before lightning strikes—a pressure against the skin that raised the fine hairs on Rimuru's arms.
"Lady Durga," he called out, focusing on maintaining his mental clarity. "I see you've begun your purification early."
Durga's cosmic eyes shifted toward him, their gaze momentarily disorienting—like peering into depths that extended far beyond physical space.
"The corruption was... ripening," she replied, her voice carrying strange harmonics that seemed to resonate from multiple sources simultaneously. "Delay would have allowed further spread."
"I appreciate your... initiative," Rimuru managed, fighting against a sudden impulse to kneel. "But perhaps we should have discussed the potential effects on our citizens?"
"Effects are temporary," Durga stated, her attention returning to the swirling vortex of dark energy that had become visible above the plaza—a corrupted magical node now exposed by her powers. "Consciousness expansion benefits mortals. Broadens perspective."
"Not everyone is prepared for consciousness expansion during their evening shopping," Rimuru pointed out.
A ripple passed through Durga's silver hair—what Rimuru was beginning to recognize as her version of amusement.
"Preparation diminishes authentic experience," she observed. With a single gesture, she directed one of her spears upward. It shot into the vortex like a harpoon, causing the darkness to writhe and shrink with a sound like distant thunder.
"She's extracting the corrupted magicules rather than destroying them," Artoria noted with professional interest. "Impressive technique."
"The King of Knights recognizes efficiency," Durga acknowledged without looking at Artoria. "Your sword techniques share similar principles—minimal waste, maximum effect."
Artoria inclined her head slightly at the unexpected compliment. "Though our domains differ greatly, precision transcends disciplines."
The spear returned to Durga's orbit, now trailing wisps of dark energy that seemed to be absorbed into her being with each rotation.
"Are you... consuming the corruption?" Rimuru asked, equal parts fascinated and disturbed.
"Converting," Durga corrected. "Transmutation, not consumption. Darkness to light. Chaos to order."
"The principle resembles my Noble Phantasm's purification abilities," came Jeanne's voice as the Holy Maiden approached, somehow navigating through the entranced crowds with serene composure. "Though on a scale I could never achieve."
"The Maiden of Orleans," Durga acknowledged. "Your faith channels similar transformative energies, though filtered through human conceptual frameworks."
"God works through many vessels," Jeanne replied diplomatically, though Rimuru noticed a slight tension in her posture.
A second pulse of energy washed over the plaza, stronger than whatever had preceded it. This time, Rimuru felt it more distinctly—a sensation like diving into cool water after a lifetime of desert heat. Refreshing, overwhelming, slightly terrifying in its intensity.
The crowd's reaction intensified immediately. Some began singing in languages they shouldn't know. Others formed impromptu circles, dancing with strangers as if they'd rehearsed for years. A group of goblins had begun constructing a makeshift shrine using market debris.
"This is getting out of hand," Rimuru murmured.
"Sacred energy affects different beings according to their nature," Jeanne observed. "Your people seem unusually receptive. Perhaps because of the monster-human hybrid nature of your nation?"
Before Rimuru could respond, a commotion at the far end of the plaza caught their attention. The crowds parted—less from conscious effort and more from sheer force of personality—as Nero Claudius made her entrance. The Emperor had changed from her formal dress into what appeared to be a hastily modified bathing outfit complemented by a flowing red cape, striding forward with such confidence that even the divine-energy-entranced citizens moved aside.
"What is this spectacle?" her voice carried across the plaza with impressive projection. "Public adoration without proper imperial oversight? Unauthorized worship? Unacceptable!"
"Oh no," Rimuru groaned.
"This will end poorly," Artoria predicted with the weary certainty of someone who had witnessed similar situations before.
Durga, still focused on her purification work, didn't acknowledge the interruption. This only seemed to irritate Nero further as she marched directly toward the divine being, hands planted imperiously on her hips.
"You there! Divine one!" Nero called out, striking a dramatic pose that somehow made her diminutive stature appear commanding. "I demand proper protocol! No public ceremonies without imperial approval! Rome—I mean, Nero—demands recognition!"
For the first time, Durga's attention shifted fully from her work. Her cosmic eyes turned slowly to Nero, regarding her with an expression that might have been curiosity, amusement, or the calm consideration with which a human might regard an ant building a sand castle.
"You... challenge divinity?" Durga's voice resonated strangely, the plaza's stones vibrating subtly with each word.
"I am Nero Claudius, Emperor of Rome!" Nero proclaimed, striking another pose that defied anatomical logic. "My radiance rivals the gods themselves! My beauty transcends mortal understanding! My voice—my golden voice—has moved the heavens themselves to tears of joy!"
"Interesting," Durga interrupted, her head tilting slightly. "You possess remarkable confidence for such a small vessel."
"Small?!" Nero's indignation was immediate and volcanic. "I am perfectly proportioned for maximum imperial impact! My size concentrates my magnificence into its ideal form!"
A ripple passed through Durga's silver hair—definitely her version of amusement, Rimuru decided.
"Very well, Emperor of Rome," Durga said, her orbiting spears slowing their rotation. "I accept your challenge. Let us see whose presence more deeply affects these people."
"Challenge?" Rimuru blinked. "What challenge?"
"I believe," Jeanne explained carefully, "they're about to compete for worship."
"Oh no," Rimuru groaned. "No, no, no."
"Should we intervene?" Artoria asked, her hand resting casually on her invisible sword.
"Against those two?" Rimuru shook his head. "I'm not sure we'd survive the attempt."
Below, Nero had begun what appeared to be a combination of imperial address and theatrical performance, complete with dramatic gestures and vocal flourishes that carried across the plaza with surprising power. She had produced her crimson sword—which none of them had even realized she was carrying—and was using it as a prop in her impromptu performance.
"Citizens of Tempest!" she proclaimed, her voice somehow cutting through even Durga's divine harmonics. "Behold true imperial radiance! Beauty given perfect form! Talent unmatched across the cosmos!"
The crowd, still influenced by Durga's divine energy, responded with enthusiasm that bordered on maniacal—though Rimuru noticed with interest that their focus had indeed partially shifted from Durga to Nero.
Not to be outdone, Durga simply... intensified her presence. The air around her began to shimmer with prismatic light, and her silver hair expanded outward like a halo of starlight. The spears in her orbit accelerated, leaving trails of cosmic light that formed intricate patterns—mandalas of power that seemed to reveal glimpses of other dimensions in their geometry.
Several spectators fainted immediately. Others fell to their knees, overwhelmed by the divine display.
"Umu! Not bad!" Nero called out, apparently immune to divine intimidation. "But observe true imperial radiance!"
With a flourish, she thrust her crimson sword skyward. The blade erupted in flames that somehow formed the shape of roses in the air above her, their fiery petals drifting down around her like a crimson snowfall.
"Theatre of Roses!" she announced. "My heart's passion made manifest!"
"Show-off," Artoria muttered, though Rimuru noticed a glimmer of professional appreciation in her eyes.
The competitive display continued to escalate. Durga's spears began forming complex geometric patterns in the air, leaving trails of light that hung suspended like constellations. Nero responded by performing what she called her "Imperial Privilege" technique, generating a shower of actual rose petals that swirled around her in a crimson tornado.
The crowd below had divided into factions—some chanting "Nero! Nero!" while others had fallen into reverent silence before Durga's display, their faces transfixed with awe.
"I'm not sure this is healthy for our citizens," Rimuru observed as a hobgoblin merchant began painting "DURGA SEES ALL" on his stall with berry juice.
"Divine exposure and imperial charisma are powerful forces," Jeanne agreed. "Combined, they might be overwhelming for unprepared minds."
"Should we attempt to disperse the crowd?" Artoria suggested.
"And miss this magnificent display?" came a new voice, smooth as silk and equally amused.
Diablo had appeared beside them, watching the spectacle with undisguised fascination. "It's not often one witnesses a contest between divine presence and imperial charisma. Quite educational, wouldn't you agree?"
"Educational wasn't the word I was thinking of," Rimuru muttered. "Catastrophic comes closer."
"Perhaps," Diablo conceded with an elegant shrug. "But observe how neither is truly attempting to harm the other or the crowd. This is... play, of a sort. Powerful beings testing boundaries."
Rimuru considered this perspective. Now that Diablo mentioned it, there was something almost childlike in the escalating displays—each impressive yet carefully controlled, like expert duelists pulling their strikes.
"They're having fun," he realized with surprise.
"Indeed," Jeanne agreed with a small smile. "For beings of such power, opportunities for genuine challenge are rare. This is... refreshing for them, I suspect."
Their observation was interrupted by a tremendous crash from the far side of the plaza, followed by a familiar booming laugh that made Rimuru's heart sink.
"MAGNIFICENT!" Veldora's voice echoed across the square as the Storm Dragon burst through a building (thankfully evacuated earlier) in his full draconic form. "THIS IS EXACTLY THE KIND OF SPECTACULAR OUTCOME I PREDICTED!"
"You predicted nothing," Rimuru muttered, even as the crowd below erupted in new cheers at the dragon's appearance.
Veldora circled above the plaza, adding his own storm energy to the already chaotic display. Lightning arced between his wings, forming patterns that complemented Durga's cosmic geometries, while wind currents caught Nero's rose petals and formed them into elaborate spiraling columns.
"Lord Rimuru," Benimaru said with forced calm, rejoining them after checking the perimeter, "perhaps we should consider evacuation protocols for the surrounding buildings."
"Not yet," Rimuru decided, watching the three-way display with growing resignation. "Strangely, I think they're... enjoying themselves."
Below, Nero had spotted Veldora and was now directing her performance toward the dragon, clearly delighted to have a larger audience. The Storm Dragon responded with appreciative roars that sent thunder rumbling across the sky. Durga, meanwhile, seemed to have lost interest in the competition and had returned to her purification work, though with notably more flair than before—her spears now carving elegant patterns in the corrupted energy before dispersing it.
"They're like children with cosmic powers," Jeanne observed with a gentle smile.
"Dangerous children," Artoria added, somehow producing a meat skewer from nowhere and taking a bite.
"Where did you get that?" Rimuru asked, momentarily distracted.
"I maintain emergency rations," Artoria replied with dignified seriousness. "A king must always be prepared for extended engagements."
As night fell over the city, the impromptu "divine contest" transformed organically into something resembling a festival. Food vendors, recovering from Artoria's earlier assault, had set up emergency stalls around the plaza's perimeter. Musicians had appeared with instruments, improvising melodies that somehow complemented both Nero's theatrical performance and Durga's cosmic harmonics. Someone had begun selling hand-painted "Team Nero" and "Team Durga" banners.
"At least they're adaptable," Rimuru noted as he watched his citizens embrace the chaos with entrepreneurial spirit.
"A leader shapes his people," Jeanne observed with a knowing smile. "They've learned from your example."
"I'm not sure that's a compliment," Rimuru replied, but he couldn't help returning her smile.
"Perhaps we should direct this energy toward tomorrow's welcome feast," Diablo suggested smoothly. "Channel this enthusiasm into a proper celebration. It would provide structure while acknowledging our guests' impact."
"That's actually a good idea," Rimuru agreed, watching as a group of children began mimicking Nero's dramatic poses while adults cheered them on. "Make it official—a welcome festival for our distinguished visitors."
"I shall begin arrangements immediately," Diablo promised with a bow.
As the festival below continued to grow, Rimuru couldn't shake the feeling that this unexpected summoning might be the strangest diplomatic challenge Tempest had faced yet—and considering their history, that was saying something.
Chapter 3: The Feast of Legends
The morning sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows of Tempest's grand dining hall, where preparations for the evening's welcome feast were already underway. Teams of servants hurried about under Shuna's careful direction, arranging elaborate floral displays, polishing silverware, and positioning crystal chandeliers for maximum effect.
"The western trade delegation has requested seating near Lady Jeanne," Shuna reported as Rimuru entered to inspect progress. "The Dwarven emissaries would prefer distance from Lady Durga after yesterday's... events. Something about 'metaphysical incompatibility with their runic affinities.'"
"We're still having delegations attend?" Rimuru asked, surveying the hall with growing concern. Long tables formed an elegant U-shape around the room, with a central table reserved for himself and the four summoned queens. "Even after witnessing the plaza incident?"
"Because of it, actually," Shuna clarified with a slight smile. "Word has spread to neighboring kingdoms about our 'divine visitors.' They're sending representatives to assess the situation—diplomatically, of course."
"To determine if we're planning to unleash four legendary beings against them, you mean," Rimuru translated.
"Essentially," Shuna agreed cheerfully. "Though the Blumund Kingdom's message mentioned 'cultural exchange opportunities,' which was rather optimistic of them."
Rimuru sighed, watching as a team of hobgoblins carefully maneuvered an ice sculpture into position. The crystalline creation depicted four stylized figures standing protectively around a central slime form—an artistic interpretation of their unexpected alliance that Rimuru found both flattering and slightly presumptuous.
"Everything looks perfect," he observed, changing the subject. "Though I'm concerned about food quantities."
"I've quadrupled standard preparations," Shuna assured him. "Triple for most items, quintuple for meat dishes specifically, after yesterday's market incident."
"And positioned reserve cooking teams in the kitchens?" Rimuru asked.
"Already arranged, with ingredients prepped for rapid deployment," Shuna confirmed. "Chef Kurobee has implemented what he calls the 'Artoria Protocol'—emergency response plans for sudden depletion of food reserves."
"That was fast."
"News of Lady Artoria's appetite travels quickly among food providers," Shuna explained diplomatically. "There's already an informal support network forming."
"Her legend grows," Rimuru murmured, imagining food vendors sharing harrowing tales of empty storerooms.
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Benimaru, who entered with the controlled urgency of someone bearing news he wasn't entirely sure how to deliver.
"Lord Rimuru," he began, bowing slightly. "We have a situation with Lady Nero."
"What now?" Rimuru asked, already bracing himself.
"She has... commandeered the royal bathhouse," Benimaru reported, his usually impassive expression showing hints of bewilderment. "She claims it reminds her of Rome's public baths, but lacks proper 'imperial amenities.' She's currently directing a team of craftsmen to install mosaic flooring, marble columns, and what she calls 'appropriate statuary.'"
"Appropriate statuary?" Rimuru repeated.
"Primarily of herself," Benimaru clarified. "In various heroic poses."
Rimuru pinched the bridge of his nose. "How are the craftsmen responding to this?"
"With surprising enthusiasm," Benimaru admitted. "She has a certain... inspirational quality that makes people eager to fulfill her requests, no matter how outlandish. Also, she keeps calling them 'true artists who recognize imperial glory when they see it,' which they seem to appreciate."
"And where is everyone else this morning?" Rimuru asked, hoping for better news.
"Lady Artoria is in the training grounds, demonstrating swordsmanship to our warriors," Benimaru reported, his professional interest evident. "Her technique is... extraordinary. Even Hakurou is taking notes."
"At least that's constructive," Rimuru said with relief.
"Lady Jeanne is visiting the temple district, discussing theological concepts with our priests and priestesses," Benimaru continued. "They appear quite taken with her perspective on divine balance and protective faith."
"Also constructive," Rimuru nodded. "And Durga?"
Benimaru hesitated. "She's... redecorating the observatory tower."
"Redecorating how exactly?" Rimuru asked, suddenly wary.
"She said the space required 'cosmic realignment' to serve as proper lodging," Benimaru explained carefully. "When I checked, the interior walls appeared to be... non-Euclidean."
"Non-Euclidean," Rimuru repeated flatly.
"Yes. Corners that connect to unexpected places. Ceilings that seem higher inside than the tower's exterior would allow. Windows that show stars not currently in our sky." Benimaru's usual stoicism faltered slightly. "The maintenance staff are refusing to enter after two cleaners emerged speaking in mathematical equations for several hours."
"Of course they are," Rimuru sighed. "Is the structural integrity of the tower at least intact?"
"Surprisingly improved, according to our mages," Benimaru reported. "They claim the tower now exists 'more firmly in reality' than the surrounding structures, whatever that means."
"Small blessings," Rimuru muttered. "And Veldora?"
"The Storm Dragon is currently with Great Sage Eren, reviewing the summoning texts that brought our guests here," Benimaru said. "Apparently, he's actually being helpful, translating obscure draconic references in the ancient scripts."
"Motivated by guilt, no doubt," Rimuru observed.
"Or by the prospect of keeping such powerful beings around longer," Shuna suggested with gentle accuracy. "He seemed quite entertained by yesterday's events."
"That's what worries me," Rimuru admitted.
The grand doors opened to admit Jeanne d'Arc, her armor gleaming in the morning light. Unlike her more chaotic counterparts, the Holy Maiden's presence brought a sense of calm to the bustling room. She approached with a respectful bow.
"Lord Rimuru, good morning," she greeted warmly. "I hope I'm not interrupting."
"Not at all," Rimuru assured her. "How are you finding Tempest's spiritual community?"
Jeanne's eyes brightened with genuine interest. "Fascinating! Your priests have developed unique perspectives on divine energy by incorporating both monster and human spiritual traditions. Their concept of 'mana alignment through diverse worship' has remarkable practical applications."
"I'm glad you're finding common ground," Rimuru said, genuinely pleased. Of all their visitors, Jeanne had proven the least disruptive—a welcome counterbalance to her more chaotic companions.
"They've invited me to participate in tonight's blessing ceremony before the feast," Jeanne continued. "With your permission, of course."
"Granted happily," Rimuru agreed. "Your presence seems to have a stabilizing effect on... well, everything."
Jeanne smiled knowingly. "Balance is my nature as a Ruler-class Servant. Between faith and war, protection and judgment." Her expression turned thoughtful. "Though I must admit, Nero and Durga push even my balancing capabilities to their limits."
"Speaking of Nero," Rimuru began.
"The bathhouse renovations?" Jeanne guessed with surprising accuracy. "I heard her planning them last night. She was sketching designs until dawn—surprisingly detailed architectural plans, actually. She has genuine talent beneath the theatrics."
"That's... good to know," Rimuru said, though he wasn't entirely sure how that improved the situation. "Do you think you could perhaps... encourage her to consult with us before making structural changes to our facilities?"
"I can try," Jeanne offered diplomatically. "Though Nero's enthusiasm tends to outpace her consideration. In her mind, she's bestowing magnificent gifts upon your nation."
"By redesigning our bathhouse without permission?" Rimuru asked skeptically.
"By sharing the glory of Rome," Jeanne clarified with a small smile. "Remember, she sees herself as the embodiment of Roman culture and achievement. In her way, she's offering your people her greatest treasure—her aesthetic and architectural heritage."
Put that way, Rimuru could almost understand the Emperor's peculiar form of generosity. Almost.
"Perhaps we could channel her creative energy toward tonight's feast decorations?" Shuna suggested thoughtfully. "Give her an official role that allows for artistic expression without structural alterations?"
"Brilliant," Rimuru agreed immediately. "Jeanne, would you mind introducing this idea to her? As a fellow queen, your suggestion might carry more weight."
"I'm not actually a queen," Jeanne pointed out gently. "I was a peasant girl called to divine service."
"Close enough for diplomatic purposes," Rimuru decided. "You all have that... regal quality."
Jeanne inclined her head in acknowledgment. "I'll speak with her after my temple visit. Though I suggest approving a reasonable budget for roses. Many, many roses."
"Duly noted," Rimuru said gratefully.
As Jeanne departed, Rimuru turned back to the hall preparations with renewed determination. "Let's make sure everything is perfect tonight. With delegations from neighboring kingdoms attending, we need to demonstrate that these powerful visitors are our honored guests, not weapons or threats."
"Even though three of the four have already caused property damage?" Benimaru asked dryly.
"Especially because of that," Rimuru confirmed. "We'll show that Tempest can handle even legendary heroes with diplomatic grace."
"Very optimistic, my lord," Shuna observed with a knowing smile.
"Optimism is all I have left," Rimuru admitted. "That and an increasingly generous repair budget."
By mid-afternoon, Rimuru found himself drawn to the training grounds by the sound of clashing metal and enthusiastic cheering. Following the commotion, he discovered a scene that looked like something from an epic tale—Artoria Pendragon, the King of Knights, demonstrating combat techniques to an enthralled audience of Tempest's warriors.
The blonde swordswoman moved with impossible grace, her invisible sword—Excalibur, she had called it, concealed by powerful magic—cutting through the air with precision that defied normal physics. Across from her stood Hakurou, Tempest's master swordsman, who despite his centuries of experience was clearly working at the limit of his abilities just to keep pace.
"Again," Artoria instructed calmly after disarming the ogre master with a subtle flick of her wrist. "Your form is excellent, but you telegraph your weight shifts before major attacks."
Hakurou, rather than showing frustration at being repeatedly bested, nodded with the sincere appreciation of a true master encountering superior technique. "The fault is in my left heel—a habit from an old injury. You exploit it perfectly."
"A warrior's adaptations become part of their style," Artoria acknowledged, returning his sword with a respectful gesture. "Sometimes weaknesses transform into unique strengths, when properly incorporated."
She turned, sensing Rimuru's presence with uncanny awareness. "Lord Rimuru. Have you come to observe our exchange of techniques?"
"I heard the commotion," Rimuru admitted, approaching the practice ring. "It seems you've made quite an impression on our warriors."
Indeed, the training ground was packed with monsters of all types—ogres, hobgoblins, even typically disinterested lizardmen—all watching with rapt attention as the King of Knights demonstrated her art.
"Your master swordsman is exceptional," Artoria said, nodding toward Hakurou. "Few in my world could match his speed, despite his physical form being quite different from human swordsmen."
"High praise indeed," Hakurou acknowledged with a respectful bow. "Though Lady Artoria has shown me how much further the sword arts can be developed. Her techniques incorporate magical energy in ways our traditions never considered."
"Magical swordsmanship is the foundation of knightly combat in my world," Artoria explained, demonstrating a stance that caused her invisible blade to shimmer with blue energy. "Mana reinforcement, projection, and channeling are as essential as proper footwork."
"Fascinating," Rimuru observed. "Our warriors typically separate magical attacks from physical techniques. Combining them could revolutionize our combat training."
"I would be honored to share what knowledge I can during my stay," Artoria offered with formal politeness. "Consider it repayment for your hospitality." A hint of something almost resembling humor flickered in her emerald eyes. "And for the excellent meals."
"Speaking of meals," Rimuru transitioned carefully. "Tonight's welcome feast will include representatives from neighboring nations. I hope that's acceptable?"
"Diplomatic functions are familiar territory for a king," Artoria assured him. "I assume you wish us to present a unified and controlled appearance?"
"That would be helpful," Rimuru acknowledged, impressed by her immediate grasp of the political dynamics. "Some of our neighbors might interpret your presence as Tempest acquiring powerful new weapons."
Artoria nodded thoughtfully. "Not an unreasonable conclusion from their perspective. Four warrior queens appearing suddenly in a young monster nation would concern any strategic thinker." She sheathed her invisible sword with practiced formality. "I shall conduct myself with appropriate reserve."
"I appreciate that," Rimuru said sincerely.
"And the others?" Artoria asked, the question carrying layers of practical concern.
"Jeanne has already agreed to diplomatic discretion," Rimuru reported. "Durga is... well, being Durga. But she seems more interested in cosmic energies than political machinations."
"And Nero?" Artoria raised an eyebrow.
Rimuru sighed. "We're working on channeling her enthusiasm toward feast decorations rather than architectural renovations."
"A wise approach," Artoria observed. "Nero craves appreciation and artistry more than actual power. Give her an audience and creative license, and she's surprisingly manageable." A slight grimace crossed her normally impassive features. "Though preparing for theatrical extravagance would be prudent."
"Already factored into our planning," Rimuru assured her. "Along with extra food reserves for certain guests with exceptional appetites."
If Artoria recognized the gentle teasing, she showed no sign beyond a slight tightening of her dignified expression. "Proper energy maintenance is essential for peak combat readiness."
"Of course," Rimuru agreed, fighting back a smile.
Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden change in the atmospheric pressure—a subtle but unmistakable shift that preceded Durga's appearances. Sure enough, the divine being materialized near the training grounds, her silver hair flowing upward as if gravity were merely a suggestion she occasionally acknowledged.
"King of Knights," she greeted Artoria, her cosmic eyes taking in the training scenario with otherworldly assessment. "Your combat rituals energize the local mana fields. Interesting patterns."
"Lady Durga," Artoria acknowledged with formal respect. "Combat generates distinct magical currents in any world, it seems."
"Yes. Destruction and creation in balance." Durga's orbiting spears adjusted their formation as she turned toward Rimuru. "Slime King. Your observatory tower now functions as a proper cosmic anchor. Minor dimensional bleeding has been corrected. Stars align properly."
"Thank you?" Rimuru ventured, unsure if dimensional bleeding was something he should have been concerned about previously.
"Your gratitude is noted but unnecessary," Durga replied. "The corrections benefit my comfort and this realm's stability equally." She gestured vaguely upward. "Previous alignments were... inefficient. Reality leaked."
"Reality leaked," Rimuru repeated slowly, exchanging a concerned glance with Artoria.
"Minor leakage. Common in developing dimensional nodes," Durga clarified as if this should be obvious. "Your city exists at a crossing of realities. Nexus point. Probability hub."
"Is that... good?" Rimuru asked cautiously.
"Neither good nor bad. Simply is." Durga's spears performed a complex rotation that somehow seemed to punctuate her statement. "Tonight's gathering will draw significant attention across dimensional boundaries. Expect... resonance."
With that cryptic warning, she drifted away, her silver hair trailing behind her like cosmic mist.
"Should we be concerned about 'resonance'?" Rimuru asked once she was out of earshot.
Artoria considered this with the thoughtful expression of a tactician assessing battlefield reports. "Durga perceives reality differently than we do. Her warnings often relate to metaphysical concerns rather than physical dangers."
"That's not actually reassuring," Rimuru pointed out.
"No," Artoria agreed with the faintest hint of a smile. "But it does suggest tonight will be... memorable."
"Everything with you four seems to be memorable," Rimuru observed, wondering—not for the first time—if his kingdom would survive its distinguished visitors' indefinite stay.
Chapter 4: Diplomatic Dances and Cosmic Currents
As evening approached, Tempest's grand reception hall transformed from merely elegant to truly spectacular. True to predictions, Nero had embraced her role as "Imperial Aesthetic Consultant" with characteristic enthusiasm, directing the decoration efforts with the confidence of a general commanding troops.
"More roses there!" she instructed, pointing imperiously toward an archway. "The arrangement must cascade like a crimson waterfall! And the lighting—adjust those crystals three degrees eastward to properly capture the sunset's glow!"
Surprisingly, the results of her artistic dictatorship were undeniably impressive. The hall had taken on a harmonious blend of Roman classical elegance and Tempest's unique aesthetic—grand columns wrapped with flowering vines, strategic lighting that created dramatic focal points, and centerpieces that combined local materials with designs inspired by imperial Rome.
"I must admit," Shuna commented softly as she and Rimuru observed from the doorway, "she has a genuine talent for spatial design. Everything feels both grandiose and somehow intimate."
"Nero is many things, but lacking in aesthetic sense isn't one of them," Rimuru agreed, watching as the tiny Emperor clapped her hands with delight at a particularly successful lighting arrangement.
"Perfect! Worthy of Nero's divine approval!" she declared, spinning in place with childlike joy before noticing their presence. "Ah! Lord Rimuru! Have you come to b