「 ✦ Rimuru Tempest ✦ 」
"The Crimson Knights have been delayed in Gorek, sir."
Princess Liliana's voice cut through my wandering thoughts as we walked through the castle halls.
I glanced at her from the corner of my eye. Ever since she'd been declared regent queen after the prince proved too young to rule, she'd thrown herself into the role with an intensity that was both admirable and exhausting to be around. An entire kingdom resting on shoulders that young... well, it wasn't exactly pleasant to watch.
"I told you to stop calling me sir," I replied with a sigh that probably came out more irritated than I intended. "And in the first place, where had those red knights of yours been when everything went to shit?"
The question had been bothering me for days now, but I wasn't interested enough to explicitly ask. The Crimson Knights were supposedly the kingdom's most elite force, yet they'd been conveniently absent during the demon invasion. Either they were grossly incompetent, or something else was at play.
"T-that... well," the princess stammered. She scratched her cheek in that nervous way people do when they're about to admit something they'd rather not. "Not long ago, the corrupted King ordered them and the generals to sort out a border dispute with newly formed tribes and... annihilate them if they deny compliance."
Oh?
I stopped walking for a moment, turning to give her my full attention.
"So it was on purpose?"
"I believe so, yes."
Of course it was.
I'd seen the power of those red knights firsthand during my brief battle with them. While they weren't much when faced against gods or even their apostles, they certainly could've helped in decreasing casualties, especially on the heroes' side. Their skill level was respectable, and they certainly would have made a difference.
Hell, they might've even saved some of those kids whose names were carved on tombstones yesterday.
Their absence from the capital when it mattered most was almost too convenient to be coincidental. They enemy made sure the red knights couldn't interfere with whatever plan had been in motion. The question was whether the corrupted king had been acting on his own, or if someone else had been whispering in his ear.
I reckon it was the latter.
That awfully creepy Pope was dead too, after all.
"And what business do I have with these red knights?" I asked, continuing our walk down the corridor. "What've they got to do with me?"
Honestly, I wasn't particularly heading anywhere specific. I just wanted to put on a show that I knew where I was going, even when I didn't. The castle was still unfamiliar to me, and wandering aimlessly while having important talks seemed like something a Demon Lord should do.
I was pretty sure Tio had already seen through my facade—she had this annoying talent of reading me when I was at a dead end—but she wasn't saying anything. Just walking beside me with that peacefully graceful expression she wore on public, occasionally nodding at the servants we passed.
The princess looked confused by my question, which told me she'd made some assumptions I hadn't signed off on.
"I believe they would make a worthy escort for your quest to Garland."
"And who said anything about an escort?" My reply came out harsher than I'd intended, evident by the way the princess flinched.
Damn. Ease up, Rimuru.
I softened my tone, though probably not by much.
"Okay, look. If I won't allow even Tio to come with me, what made you think that a bunch of men in red would be any different? I mean, no offense, but this is more about me wanting to settle this alone."
It wasn't entirely true, of course.
The real reason was that I didn't want anyone else getting caught in the crossfire of what I was planning. Garland wasn't necessarily going to be a diplomatic mission. It was going to be messy, dangerous, and probably involve me doing things that would be difficult to explain afterward.
Better to keep the collateral damage to a minimum.
And having extra weight would just hold me down, and that was just not cool.
"I see."
"You have more you want to say, don't cha?"
"Well..." she hesitated, then seemed to steel herself. "This concerns our nation—the world as a whole, even. It doesn't sit right with me as royalty that we're just leaving it all to one person."
There it was. The guilt and responsibility that come along with leadership that makes people feel like they have to involve themselves in everything. It was admirable in its way, but also potentially and circumstantially catastrophic.
"Well, to be fair, you wouldn't see any other person like me, so don't worry about it."
I stopped walking as we found ourselves on a balcony that overlooked the higher-class district. The view was actually quite nice—neat rows of newly-reconstructed buildings, clean streets, people going about their daily lives as if the country hadn't nearly ended just days ago.
It was a sad contrast to the lower districts that were still recovering from the invasion.
I leaned against the stone railing.
"That's... that's exactly the problem," the princess continued, moving to stand beside me. "What if something happens to you? What if this enemy is stronger than anticipated? What if—"
"What if, what if, what if," I interrupted, not unkindly. "Princess, with all due respect, you're thinking like someone who's never had to make this kind of decision before."
She opened her mouth to protest, but I held up a hand.
"I'm not saying that to insult you. I'm saying it because you're thinking in terms of backup plans and safety nets, and that's just for someone who's never had to bet everything on a single throw of the dice."
The wind picked up, ruffling my hair.
"Sometimes, Princess, the best plan is the simplest one. Sending more people just creates more variables, more things that can go wrong, more lives at risk for no additional benefit."
"But surely—"
"I'm telling you this because I want you to understand the level we're operating on here. This isn't a matter of bringing more swords to a sword fight. You get what I mean, right?"
The princess was quiet for a long moment, staring out at the city below.
"Then... what can we do? How can the kingdom contribute anything meaningful?"
It was a good question, and one that showed she was starting to understand the scope of what we were dealing with.
"Just do what you do," I said simply. "You take care of your people."
"That's not..." she started, then stopped herself.
"Not heroic or dramatic enough?" I guessed. "Princess, heroics are vastly overrated. The real and important work is usually boring. Like making sure people have food and shelter and hope for tomorrow."
I pointed toward the city below us.
"Look at them. Your people. They're not looking for heroes right now. They're looking for leadership, for someone who can promise them that life will go on, that their children will have a future."
"I..." the princess seemed to be struggling with something.
"What is it?"
"I just... I feel so useless. Everyone else is doing something, contributing somehow, and I'm just... sitting here, making administrative decisions while the fate of the world hangs in the balance."
I couldn't help but smile a little at that. It was such a fundamentally human concern—the need to feel useful, to feel like you're making a difference in a crisis. Even royalty wasn't immune to it, apparently.
"That's up to you to sort out, is it?"
"...Yes, it is."
"Good." I pushed back from the railing, ready to continue our walk. "Now, was there anything else urgent that needed my attention before I leave?"
"Actually, yes," Tio spoke up for the first time since we'd started this conversation. "The young heroes have been asking about you. Something about wanting to discuss battle tactics."
I groaned.
"Let me guess—Kouki?"
"Among others, yes."
Of course.
"And what do they want specifically?"
"From what I gathered, they wish to propose accompanying you to Garland as a support unit."
I stopped walking and turned to stare at her.
"They want to do what now? I thought that bum Kouki wanted to go with Hajime to clear the remaining labyrinths?"
Tio's expression remained perfectly neutral. "I believe the exact phrase used was 'we can't let Rimuru-san shoulder this burden alone.'"
I felt a headache coming on. "And what did you tell them?"
"I told them to discuss it with you directly."
"Ugh." I rubbed my temples, trying to ward off the growing migraine. "And where are they now?"
"In the training courtyard, last I checked."
I sighed deeply. This was exactly the kind of complication I'd been hoping to avoid. But if I didn't address it now, they'd probably just keep pestering me until I left, and that would be even more annoying.
"Fine. Let's go deal with this. Might as well settle everything before I leave."
As we changed direction toward the training courtyard, the princess fell into step beside me again.
"For what it's worth," she said quietly, "I think they mean well."
I could feel my patience wearing thin. It wasn't really Kouki's or anyone else's fault—they were young, idealistic, and genuinely wanted to help. But intentions didn't make up for the gap in competence, and I was getting tired of pretending otherwise.
"Yeah, I'm sure they do," I replied. "But goodwill and actual capability are two very different things, and in situations like this, the gap between them can be measured in dead bodies."
The halls seemed to stretch as we made our way toward what was undoubtedly going to be an exhausting talk with well-meaning but ultimately unprepared teenagers who thought they understood what they were volunteering for.
···—–—⚜—–—···
The training courtyard was exactly as lively as I'd expected.
Kouki Amanogawa was in the center of it all, of course, waving animatedly while the other heroes gathered around him in a loose circle.
"—can't just sit here while Rimuru-san risks everything alone!" he was saying as we approached. "We have a responsibility to help!"
What a complete turnover of his attitude towards me, or is it just for show?
I caught sight of Hajime leaning against a wall nearby, polishing his revolvers and looking like he'd rather be literally anywhere else. Yue and Shea were by his side, both mildly exasperated. Kaori was closer to them, though she seemed more thoughtful than enthusiastic about whatever plan Kouki was pushing.
"Responsibility," I muttered under my breath. "There's that word again."
Tio glanced at me sideways. "Shall I announce your arrival?"
"No need. I think they'll notice soon enough."
As if on cue, Shizuku spotted us first.
"Kouki," she said quietly, "Rimuru is here."
The entire bunch turned toward us, and I had to suppress the urge to sigh at the looks of hope and determination on their faces.
"Rimuru-san!" Kouki stepped forward, his eyes bright with that insufferable optimism. "Perfect timing. We were just discussing—"
"How you want to tag along to Garland," I interrupted, stopping a few feet away from the group. "Yeah, I heard."
I rubbed my temples and looked up to the sky—clear and blue and oblivious unlike the one yesterday with the rain.
"Then you know we're serious about this," Kouki continued, apparently taking my acknowledgment as encouragement. "We can't let you face whatever's waiting there alone. As heroes, it's our duty to—"
"Stop." I held up a hand, and thankfully, he actually listened. "Let me save us both some time here. The answer is no."
"But—"
"No."
"You haven't even heard our plan—"
"I don't need to hear your plan, because whatever it is, it's not going to change the fundamental problem." I looked around the group, making sure I had everyone's attention. "You're weak."
I could see some of them flinch, others bristle with indignation. Kouki's face flushed red.
"That's not—"
"Look, it's not an insult," I continued before he could work up a full head of righteous steam. "It's just, well, the truth. This is way beyond you."
"Then teach us!" Ryutarou spoke up from behind Kouki. "Help us get stronger!"
I almost smiled at that.
"Hey, if I could make you remotely close to being useful, don't you think I would've done it already?"
That seemed to deflate him somewhat, but Kouki Amanogawa wasn't giving up.
"We don't need to be as strong as you," he insisted. "We just need to be able to support you, to watch your back, to—"
"To get in my way," I finished bluntly. "Look, I get it. You want to help or feel useful and whatever, but just in case you haven't noticed, this isn't about what you want—it's about what's practical."
"So what, we're just supposed to sit here and do nothing?" Suzu Taniguchi asked, her voice smaller than the others but no less frustrated.
"Actually," I said, turning to look at Hajime, "that brings up an interesting point. Hajime, you're still planning to escort the princess to the Empire, right?"
Hajime straightened slightly, caught off guard by the sudden attention. "Yeah, that's the plan. Though I can't say I'm thrilled about it."
"And after that?"
"After that..." He shrugged. "There's only one thing left to do, is there?"
"Great," I said, then looked back at the group of eager heroes. "Because I've got a suggestion that might make everyone happy, or at least equally miserable."
I could see the curiosity in their eyes now, the hope that maybe I was about to offer them some way to contribute after all.
"The remaining labyrinths," I continued. "That's what you'll do after, right?"
Understanding dawned on Hajime's face, and he didn't look pleased about it.
"Oh, hell no."
"Oh, hell yes," I pressed on. "You've got the experience, and you're strong enough to keep them alive if things go sideways. Plus, the princess needs to get to the Empire anyway, so you'd be killing two birds with one stone."
"Three birds," Hajime muttered. "Don't forget the part where I have to babysit."
"Hey!" Kouki protested.
"He's not wrong," Shizuku said quietly, which earned her a betrayed look from her childhood friend.
"But this could work," Kaori said thoughtfully. "I believe Hajime-kun has the skills to guide us through the labyrinths safely enough, and everyone will actually be contributing something meaningful to the overall effort."
"I didn't agree to this," Hajime said firmly and dejectedly.
I ignored him as I put my hand on Tio's shoulder. "Besides, she'll be coming with you. She's a reliable addition, so you can rest assured."
"..."
"Not gonna say anything?"
"It's not like you'll listen."
"Come on," I said, putting on my most reasonable tone. "You were going to escort the princess anyway. This just makes the whole operation more efficient."
"Efficient for who? You get to run off and play lone wolf while I get stuck with—" He gestured vaguely at the group of students.
"While you get to be the experienced mentor guiding the next generation of heroes!" I corrected with a grin.
"I hate you."
"Hah! You're just annoyed that I'm making sense."
Yue stepped forward then, and I noticed she had that contemplative look in her eyes that usually preceded her making some observation that cut straight to the heart of the matter.
"The labyrinths would provide good training," she said simply. "Real combat experience against opponents that scale to their current abilities."
"Plus," Shea added cheerfully, "it means Hajime-san doesn't have to worry about them doing something stupid while he's not watching!"
"They're going to do something stupid regardless," Hajime replied flatly. "And it will be up to me to clean up the mess all over again."
"So you're agreeing?" Kouki asked, hope creeping back into his voice.
"Whatever."
It wasn't exactly enthusiastic agreement, but I could see the relief on the heroes' faces. They'd get their chance to contribute, just not in the way they'd originally planned.
"Only four of us are going, so what about the others?" Shizuku suddenly asked.
I looked around the group, doing some quick thinking.
"The rest of you," I said, pointing to the other students who hadn't spoken up, "just help rebuild this kingdom, which, contrary to popular belief, is actually an incredibly important job."
There was some grumbling at that, but I could see that most of them understood the logic, even if they didn't like it. But maybe part of their reluctant acceptance had to do with the fact that they didn't want to talk back against me—which I was honestly grateful for.
"So that's settled then," I said, clapping my hands together. "Any questions?"
"Yeah," Hajime said dryly. "What makes you think any of this is going to work?"
I grinned at him. "Optimism?"
"I hate you so much."
"You keep saying that, but you're still agreeing to my plans!"
"Only because they're marginally less insane than letting you handle everything yourself."
"That's progress, homie."
As the group began to disperse, already starting to plan and discuss the logistics of their respective missions, I caught Kouki's arm as he walked past.
"One more thing," I said quietly, making sure the others couldn't hear. "This isn't a game, so do me a favor—listen to Hajime. He's an ass, but he's an ass who knows how to keep people alive."
Kouki looked like he wanted to argue, but something in my expression must have convinced him to take the advice even if he felt sour about it.
"...I will," he said finally.