Chapter 13 - 1

CHAPTER 1

OBSERVATION, RESEARCH, RESULTS

In one corner of an opulent mansion, a shady-looking group was relaxing on sofas surrounding a table. The site was a base used by the Cerberus secret society in the West, run by Misha the Lover, one of the group's bosses.

The woman attending to Misha provided tea for the guests, bowed, and left the room. That was the signal for the conference to begin.

"Ah, I see. It went well, then?" Listening to the report, Yuuki Kagurazaka smiled broadly.

"He went exactly the way you said he would, Boss! And I thought for sure Laplace messed it up at first…"

"Hoh-hoh-hoh! Laplace is a careful man, but he's not a born negotiator, after all."

"Whoa, hang on! I'm better'n any of you guys!"

Teare and Footman only seemed to be on the same page when they were picking on Laplace. He complained loudly about it but wasn't truly offended. It was just some friendly banter.

"Well, it all worked out, didn't it? I'm just glad you managed to keep your cool with Leon right in front of you."

"Yeah. 'Cause honestly, I half expected you'd resort to violence in there."

If it did, all it meant was cutting off ties with the demon lord Leon. Now that they had decided to lay off the Western Nations for a while, Yuuki laughed the concept off as no great shakes.

"He was a terrible man, I tell ya," the dejected-looking Laplace said. "But why'd you have me tell him about the kids anyway?"

Yuuki shot him a half grin. "Oh, it's nothing, really. Leon's trying to collect 'incomplete' kids, and I'm all but certain that's so he can expand his fighting power…but part of me wondered if there's something else behind it, you know?"

"Ah. So you wanted to reveal to him that the demon lord Rimuru has five of them?"

"Not just that. We can still only guess at how Leon's treating these kids, you know? Rimuru saved them by showing them how to handle spiritual force, but Leon doesn't know about any of that. So I was interested to see how he'd react to these children he thinks are doomed to die pretty soon."

"I see… That is a curious question, yes. And depending on his reaction, we can try predicting his next move."

"Right. For now, we've got nothin'. We needed to jolt 'im a little, I suppose."

"Yeah, you see? I mean, it was more out of curiosity than anything, though. That's just how I am. I sweat the small stuff."

Kagali and Laplace could appreciate that. As Yuuki said, he was worrying himself too much about this…but if they wanted to peer into Leon's intentions, that piece of info was a useful way to do it.

What if the demon lord Leon took action? He wasn't rash enough to take on Rimuru just to gain five more fighters for his side. The risk of riling him far outweighed the potential boost to his forces. Leon was smart enough to see that. Normally, then, he'd let these children be—but what if he didn't? If he didn't, it meant Leon had some other goal in mind.

"However," Kagali said, "I doubt Leon would do anything drastic just for the sake of a few children."

"You don't think? 'Cause I leaked info on that war and got nothin' but funny looks for it. Was I wastin' my time?"

It would have been pretty interesting if Leon made a move, but the chances of that were low. Kagali and Laplace saw the wit of Yuuki's idea, but both assumed that it wouldn't amount to much.

All Yuuki could do in response was grin at them. "Yeah, like I said, I'm sorry. But unless you massaged it like that, it would've been weird if you just talked about the kids out of nowhere. If you started with that, then with your acting skills, I dunno…"

He paused. But his intentions came across well enough to the group.

"I hate to say it, but it's true. Footman's too tongue-tied and shorttempered, Laplace is shallow and fishy-looking, and I alone could never have pulled it off."

Teare, acting entirely blameless, made Laplace roll his eyes and Footman sneer at her. This, too, was often how their conversations went. But then Teare seemed to recall something.

"Maybe I'm overthinking it like you said, Boss, but there's something that bothered me a little, too."

"Oh? What's that?"

"Well, when Footman rattled off the list of goods, Leon was all—"

"Leon?"

"He asked about the names again. When Footman said Scoey Colbert, he replied along the lines of 'Are you sure it's Scoey and not Chloe?' If he claimed that the names didn't matter, I don't see why he would even care, but…"

"Ah, he's just high-strung like that, y'know? He fusses over the details."

"Hoh-hoh-hoh! So irritating, isn't it? Maybe he was just poking some fun at my pronunciation."

Laplace and Footman saw no major concern. Yuuki and Kagali, meanwhile, exchanged looks.

"What do you think?"

"I doubt he would've reacted if he truly didn't care."

"Yeah, but really, there's no way he… That's just too much of a coincidence, isn't it?"

"Well, if it's fate we're dealing with, there's no such thing as never, you know…"

"So you think he really…?"

"It would indicate to me that yes, the demon lord Leon's primary goal is that girl Chloe."

"Seriously?"

Yuuki looked stunned. If that possibility was correct, it meant they had just inadvertently tossed away their upper hand against Leon. Kagali, meanwhile, was even more frustrated. The anger was written all over her face. If that was Leon's goal all along, then her comrade Clayman wouldn't have had to be killed.

"Um… Huh?"

Teare couldn't hide her surprise at the unexpected possibilities that sprung from her observation. But it was the cold, heartless truth.

"Are you kidding me?"

"Is that what you really think?"

Yuuki and Kagali were born schemers; that much was true, but not even they had insight into everything. They always thought two or three steps ahead, ensuring they could handle any situation that arose after failure. Laplace knew that well, but even he thought they were overreacting this time —and Footman solemnly nodded his agreement.

"Well, it's still just a possibility. Not one we can afford to ignore, but nothing's set in stone yet."

"So your curiosity didn't cost us anything after all, huh, Boss?"

"Cost? Hell, it might've earned us a hell of a lot!"

"Right. I don't want to expect too much, but if things turn out that way, wouldn't it be pretty fun? And if we work things right, we could use this to pit a couple of annoying demon lords against each other. That's a win-win on our end, I'd say."

"Yeah. It's not like it matters to us who wins in that case. Let's just frame this as more fun in the wings."

"Hoh-hoh-hoh! I still think we're overreacting, but it's no harm done."

"Well, no need to go overboard on the expectations. It's not like everything's gonna go the way we want it, y'know?"

Laplace, sensing everyone relaxing a bit on the issue, attempted to sum matters up. Once the group nodded in understanding, it was time to move on to a different subject.

Misha called for her attendant and got another round of tea going.

"So how 'bout you update us on your stuff, Boss?" Laplace asked after a brief break.

"Yeah… I'm concerned about the Chloe thing, but we can focus more on that later. Let's move on to the main topic."

Yuuki nodded at Laplace and took a sip. Then he smiled and went over the fruits of his negotiations.

While Laplace and his cohorts were dealing with Leon, Yuuki's side was involved in high-level talks of their own—with the shadowy figure that ran the Western Nations. The topic: how to clean up after the whole Maribel affair.

"As you all know, the cover story is that I was under Maribel's control, so she's taking the entire blame for this."

"Ah, and now you're workin' to back up that story?"

"Exactly. I mean, if I was under her thrall, I couldn't really head out to the Eastern Empire, could I?"

"No, you're right."

"Yeah."

"I thought that was kind of off, too."

"Regarding this Avarice power, it was a toss-up whether I'd be able to grab it from her. More than that, my main aim was just to get Maribel killed —after she was, I'd be free to move around again. So once I firmed up that position for myself, I thought it was time to negotiate with the venerable

Granville Rozzo."

Yuuki's sights had been aimed squarely at Maribel. He needed to distract her so he didn't completely lose his position in the West—and eventually, that distraction led to her death. With her out of the picture, Yuuki had his free will back, and anything nefarious he did before could be framed as Maribel's orders. And it worked. Maribel was gone, and Yuuki had obtained powers far beyond what he expected. The negotiations went similarly well— and what he heard there was the main reason why Yuuki called for this meeting.

"So if you don't mind me starting at the conclusion, we have one more job to do before we head east."

He glanced at the surprised faces surrounding him, trying to look serious. "Got that? Now let me give you all the details, start to finish." With that, Yuuki began describing his conference with Granville.

We were at peace. And in Rimuru, the capital of Tempest, every day was packed for me.

Once things calmed down a bit, I sent out another ruins expedition team, but they didn't find a body or anything. Either Yuuki was telling the truth, and she blew herself up, or he'd done something with her. Regardless, any issues stemming from this incident had already been swept away. Maribel was a princess of the Kingdom of Seltrozzo, but spreading word that she attacked us in the ruins would just aggravate the situation. So I contacted Seltrozzo on the sly and had them chalk it up as an "accident," something made possible by our mutual desires to keep it from becoming a Big Thing. Once you're an old-enough royal family, "accidents" are just part of the package, so our arrangements went pretty smoothly.

Still, their king and queen just seemed so emotionless to me. Under those parents, I could see why she relied on her knowledge from her past life so much. Had Maribel gotten to enjoy a normal, innocent childhood in her new life, would things have turned out differently? I couldn't help but wonder, as much of a what-if thing that was.

And that brings me to the Five Elders. Granville Rozzo—eldest of them all, boss of the Rozzo family—was the real puppet master pulling Maribel's strings. I'd been steeling myself for some kind of retribution toward us, but there had been nothing. Perhaps they were admitting they were up to some no-good antics and decided not to respond as long as we kept our mouths shut. It'd been over a month, actually, and Granville had kept mum—and that was more than enough time for our needs, too.

Taking advantage of Soei's information and grasping the goings-on in the Western Nations underground, we were now sure there was no greater threat over there than the Rozzos. We did pick up on a few groups of interest— along the same lines as the Sons of the Veldt, that mercenary team—but it wasn't clear whether any of them shared in our interests. If they were clearly hostile, that was another matter, but we had no reason to rile them. I didn't want to go prodding any hornet's nests I didn't have to, so I decided to just keep tabs on their movements.

We were on good terms with the Free Guild and enjoyed the backing of the Western Holy Church. Really, I don't think any organization was big enough by now to pick a fight with us. It was only natural, then, that Tempest was now leading the largest faction in the Council of the West.

At the start of another peaceful afternoon, we were holding our regular cabinet meeting. In what amounted to the blink of an eye, our nation had all but taken the place of the Five Elders…and maybe that's why we had this pile of new issues to deal with.

The Council of the West, after all, played an enormous rule in establishing consensus among the Western Nations. Councillors voted on measures to enact, which basically meant that the more councillors you sent, the more of a say you had. Now that I had at least some goods on every nation in there, though, the group's members looked upon our representatives as mediators of sorts. Our rising influence in the West thus meant the number of complaints and petitions sent our way was skyrocketing. Talk is cheap, of course, and apparently a lot of people were taking advantage of the bargain to push their pet projects.

This is exactly why world domination is such a stupid idea. I don't think you get a single chance to take it easy if you're in a ruling position. Now I understood why the other demon lords didn't seem to care much about lands outside their boundaries. If you wind up inadvertently taking over some destitute area or another, you're obligated to address whatever people are dissatisfied about there. People talk about eliminating disparities like it's easy, but from the eyes of the one doing it, it never went that way.

The right way, I imagine, is to take that region's assets—their labor, their resources—cover the expenses, and redistribute the resulting profits. You want to be careful with siphoning in wealth from other regions, because you might start to have real inequality on your hands then. Now that our nation led the largest faction, the other nations were looking for payback. We can shut them out for now, but before very long, we're bound to have an opposition on our hands.

The question now became who we'd send to the Council as our permanent representative. We needed someone smart, sociable, and possessing a certain amount of charisma. Ideally, someone with the force to talk someone into submission, but…

"Also, sorry, but I'm out."

With this sort of thing, the first person to speak up wins. I will admit to having the gift of gab, but I had zero intention of taking on more trouble for myself.

"I'm not sure I can, either," Benimaru said right after me. "The previous Council meeting taught me all too well that I don't have the stomach for those mind games. In a battlefield with no physical combat allowed, I'm as good as useless."

I felt he was being a bit modest, but he likely meant most of it. Benimaru certainly would have trouble against all those sly old nobles.

"My mission is intelligence gathering. I cannot afford to leave my position as Rimuru's 'eyes.'"

Soei was out, too. That much I expected. I didn't want to lose him, either.

Geld bowed out as well. He had common sense, and I knew I could rely on him, but I had left a mountain of important work in his hands. Our construction schedule was packed, and he definitely didn't have the time to take on more. I thought Geld would be a fine councillor, but I would have to eliminate that choice for the time being.

Which left…

"Ah, um, me?!"

I passed a quick glance at Gabil, quietly taking in the proceedings up to now. Gabil, surprisingly enough, was a pretty sensible person, and I could, you know, maybe see him shining in this important post.

…Well, all right, there was a lot to be anxious about with him. But there was really no one else. Hakuro was my military adviser, charged with building up our soldiers. Shuna could be trusted for the job, but if she left for that, it'd impact work around our own nation. Rigurd and the other goblin elders were off the list for similar reasons. We had tons of thorny issues to tackle—a legal system for our new nation, negotiations with other countries, managing our growing population, and much more. They were taking the lead on all those issues, and if Shuna or Rigurd departed, it could grind the whole thing to a halt. We were training a new generation of leaders, yes, but I wanted to see them grow some more first.

"I—I am in the midst of a project to capture and bring back wyverns to train as mounts to improve our air offense. It requires the extensive use of a great number of types of potions, so I would like to continue recording data for this project…"

Ah yes. There was no doubting that Gabil was the right (lizard) man for the job. It seemed better to let him nurture our budding wyvern force than send him off to the Council against his will.

"All right. Gabil, keep up your current work."

"Yes, sir! Understood, sir!!"

Gabil was visibly relieved. I didn't want to force him into anything, so this, I thought, was fine.

You know, maybe I've wound up expanding our forces in too much of a hurry. It was a poor idea to spread my hand out when I didn't have enough trained personnel, but the workload just kept on rising. It was a problem, but ah well. Let's see if there are any other choices.

…And just as I thought that, my eyes settled on Shion. She was staring at me, all asparkle.

"Sir Rimuru, I—"

"Denied!"

I reflexively cut her off. She was volunteering, I assumed, but she was out of the question.

"Wh-why?!" she asked, surprised. The question itself was also a surprise to me.

"Let's just pretend, for a moment, that you were a councillor. And let's say there's some pudgy, leering elderly man in front of you. Another councillor. And now this councillor's placed his hand on your shoulder, all friendly like. How would you handle that?"

"It's obvious. I would grab the man's neck with my left hand, lift him up, and punch and punch and punch!!" Bzzzzt!!

Hence why she wasn't in the running. Shion's grown, I'll admit. I had no doubt about that, but there were still a lot of situations that made me anxious with her.

Like before, for example…

I found Shion in the dining hall. She gave me a big smile and presented the dish in her hand.

"Sir Rimuru! I've been waiting for you. I've finally made a cake all by myself! Here you go! It tastes the same as Lady Shuna's cooking, with several times the quantity. Please, go ahead and try it!!"

I was already regretting this. But Shion was proving to be a capable tea brewer…and that must've put me off guard.

"Um… Thanks. Appreciate it."

Unconsciously, I accepted it. That was a mistake. A large block of something resembling opaque Jell-O was on the plate. My face fell. Uh, this is cake?

Staring at this object, I looked around for assistance, but nobody was there. Did they all escape? No, Gobichi was at his post…sprawled out on the kitchen floor. So there's one victim.

I now realized I had visited the dining hall at the worst moment possible.

But it was too late.

"Hey…um, this is…cake, you say?"

"Yes! I've perfectly re-created the taste!"

The taste is perfect? So everything else about it is awful? Shion certainly seemed confident, and watching her only made more butterflies materialize in my stomach.

Regretting my carelessness, I decided to take a single bite. You could predict the results.

I scooped up just a bit with my spoon and brought it ever so slowly to my mouth. I thought I was going to immediately retch. It felt like Jell-O, but the taste was all sugary-sweet cake. It was gray in color, and the feel was decidedly gelatinous. It instantly reminded me how important the look of a cake was to the overall experience. Well, not just cake. With any kind of food, visuals are key. If you just tossed a bunch of ingredients on a plate, nobody would find that appetizing.

"What do you think? It's good, isn't it?"

She smirked at me. I know she wanted to say "It's perfect, isn't it?" But she just lacked the fundamentals. And by fundamentals, I meant she was tripping over the entire definition of what food is.

"Sit down. Sit down there, please. We need to talk!"

"Huh?! Wh-what's wrong…?"

Shion's smirk melted into a pair of teary eyes. Her head was already tilted downward, but I didn't let that stop me.

The ensuing lecture lasted a very earnest thirty minutes, as I explained to Shion what cooking was. She seemed remorseful, at least, and she promised that next time she'd discuss things with someone else and follow their advice.

…And so forth.

After that lecture, I recalled that when Shion was practicing her tea service, Diablo was guiding her through it. He claimed that a mere taste test of her work upset his stomach, and such sacrifices on his part were what helped Shion grow so well. If I let her practice by herself, she'd never notice where she was going wrong. Leaving her to her own devices, then, was a mistake. No matter what the task was, Shion always relied on her innate special skills to get fast results. It's hard to grow that way. She needed someone overseeing her.

Thus, there was no possible way I could name Shion as a councillor. If she caused any kind of problem in the Council, it could shatter the relationship I'd taken all this effort to build with humankind. And if I wanted someone there to stop her if she flew off the handle, I had a pretty limited pool to pick from in this nation. If I did have someone like that, it'd be far more effective to just name them councillor.

Like Diablo, maybe.

"I think Diablo could handle it pretty well…"

I kind of let my true feelings fall from my lips. Everyone in the meeting room nodded.

"Yes, Diablo would put us all at ease."

"It'd be easy for him to cajole those nobles into doing our bidding."

"And I doubt he'd ever back down against violence or take bribes."

Rigurd, Benimaru, and Gabil all deeply trusted Diablo. Shuna and Shion joined them.

"With his brains and cleverness, I'm sure he'd make things go your way, Sir Rimuru."

"I hate to admit it, but my undersecretary is a talented man. Besides, if he can get out of my hair and go to Englesia for me, my job as first secretary will be more important than ever! I'm not sure you'd find anyone more qualified."

They all seemed in agreement. Shion had less virtuous motives, perhaps, but there was no doubting her appreciation for his ability. Nobody voiced any objections, and there were no other brilliant proposals, so we settled on Diablo as being our top candidate.

But I'm sure he'll hate it…

"Y'know, I get the feeling he's going to despise doing odd-job work like that. That's why he's gone out to look for minions of his own, and for all I know, maybe he'll find someone good at negotiating for me. So for now, let's call Diablo the main candidate, subject to future changes." That seemed good for now.

Of course, until we actually pick someone, it'd be me showing up for Council meetings. I wanted someone else in there fast, so hopefully, I thought, Diablo would be kind enough to come back soon.

This was an urgent issue, sure, but for the most part, it was my problem. Fortunately, after deciding to wait on Diablo, the conference ended without any other major hiccups.

Nothing beats peace. It's a good thing, not having any problems, and it's even better to have free time to enjoy. So I decided to pay a visit to Kurobe. Why? Because thanks to having some more time on my hands, I had discovered something I wanted to talk about.

I called for him upon entering his workshop.

"Kurobe! You got a moment?"

I waved at the nervous-looking apprentices as I went to the inner room. There, I found Kurobe observing a row of several swords.

"Ah, Sir Rimuru! Just who I wanted to see. There's something I wanted to report to you about, actually."

"Oh, to me? What's up?"

If he had something to report, it was likely some new work of his. He always gave form to my ideas, working with Kaijin to develop all kinds of things, so presumably he had created some other useful item for me. And I was right.

"Well, regarding the thing you asked about earlier, I think I have a complete version!"

Kurobe pointed at the swords in front of him, in all shapes and sizes. Judging by how happy he looked, I assumed they were pretty special. But what did he mean by what I'd asked about earlier? I blather on about all sorts of nonsense on the regular, so I couldn't recall exactly what he was referring to.

But a quick Assessment took care of that.

Understood. This weapon is a broadsword—level: Unique.

Ooh, it is a Unique! And if Kurobe crafted it, it's got to be quality. But I didn't think that'd be enough to make Kurobe act so self-assured around me like this.

With his talents, he could forge several Uniques a month. If he employed his usual methods, he could finish up a blade in one day. These averaged Unique in quality; even if they were "failures," they were still in the upper echelon of Rares. If he was more thorough with his work, that took two or three days, but it pretty much always resulted in something Unique or better. He was still far away from crafting a Legend-class weapon, it seemed, but I really believed he'd do it someday. Plus, if you had a talented fighter wielding one of his blades, that alone could progress it up to Legend, I thought.

He chose all his materials carefully, using only the purest of magisteel. Weapons made from that took on the will of their owner to evolve further, so I really didn't think it was long before we'd see our first Kurobe-forged Legend-class blade. Thus, I assumed he wouldn't go this far out of his way to show off some more Uniques, but…

I took a closer look at the broadsword. The most notable thing on it was the marble-size depressions at its base—three of them. Otherwise, nothing stood out. It was a perfectly capable sword, of course, but I wouldn't say it stood out of the pack among Kurobe's creations. (If one of his apprentices was behind it, that was another story.)

This might be a strange thing to say, but it was a completely normal Unique. There was no special inscription magic applied to it, apparently… But hang on. Now I saw something.

"What is this? It's an impressive Unique but nothing too rare for you, is it?"

Hiding my excitement, I pretended not to spot it.

"Oh, did you forget? Heh-heh-heh-heh… This is special, this is. It looks like a normal weapon at first glance, and no magic's been applied to it, but you won't believe what it features."

At this point in time, not even my—well, Raphael's—Analyze and Assess skill could find any unusual effects to it. If it was what I thought it was, perhaps I should expect a lot.

As I stood there, heart thumping, Kurobe took out a glowing ball, then casually installed it in the hilt.

"Just stick it in a hole like this, and then…"

Report. The weapon broadsword has transformed into the magical weapon broadsword.

Aha!

What was once a regular weapon was now a magical one. So that crazy idea of mine was finally in production?

"Whoa! You really completed it?"

"Heh-heh! So you have noticed, Sir Rimuru? That's right. This is the exact mechanism you described to me!"

Right, right. I did discuss this idea with him. I knew Kurobe was always working on his research, but I had no idea he wrapped this up so quickly. It almost scared me. He was a taciturn man, never one to brag about his achievements, but his work explained with perfect eloquence how great he was. Truly, a role model for all artisans.

"Wow! Kurobe! I mean… Kurobe! This is amazing! Seriously, this is the most amazing invention ever!"

I was now audibly excited. Kurobe gave me a satisfied smile and a strong nod.

"Hee-hee-hee… Wonderful."

Now he was smirking. I had almost never seen a smirk look so natural on someone's face before. Shion's smirk mostly irritated me, but here, I just had to hand it to Kurobe.

There were several ways to craft magic weapons. In my case, I could use Raphael's Combine/Disassemble skill to easily apply magic effects to just about anything. Kurobe could do something similar, but Kaijin and their apprentices didn't have the ability to cheat like that.

What did they do, then? The most common way was to have an enchanter inscribe something on it. Dold knew how to do that, so he would come around to inscribe what this workshop finished. This "completed" the magic weapon, and then you just had to run some magic power into the inscription to trigger the designated spell. But you could only infuse a weapon with so many different spells—two was usually the limit—and once you inscribed a spell, there was no removing it.

The other method, as I think I've mentioned a few times before, has to do with how the weapon evolves. Once it's exposed to the magic force of the user, weapons will often have certain extra powers applied to them. It's tough to aim for this, and it takes a lot of time, but sometimes a weapon gains unexpected force. This method was also the subject of ongoing research toward a way to streamline weapon evolution. (By the way, I had donated part of the large cache of Unique weapons we obtained at the Amrita ruins toward this research. I wasn't expecting it to lead to quick results, of course, but it's important we kept up a continual effort.)

So what had Kurobe just made? Oh, just something that rendered everything that came before it obsolete.

I first brought up this idea while drinking with Kaijin and Kurobe. First, we'd take a sturdy magisteel weapon, perfect for the transmission of magic. Next, we'd create a set of magic-generating external plug-in "cores." Then, I theorized, you could have a magic weapon that wasn't hardwired for just one spell or the other.

For example, what if you placed a magical stone infused with elemental force in a sword? The answer was the blade before me. And it wasn't just some magic stone in there—it was a high-purity jewel.

"What do you think, Sir Rimuru? Just like you pictured it? So here's a sword with holes ready for magical expansions. And meanwhile, Kaijin's succeeded in compressing magicules into these pure, refined magic crystals!"

Kurobe held his nose in the air. So Kaijin was part of this. Generally, it was Kurobe who forged the base weapon and Kaijin who put in the jewels and other final touches. It took the two of them working together to complete something as wonderful as this, I assumed.

"We call these element-infused magic stones 'element cores.' We just call 'em cores around the workshop. Gabil's been out capturing wyverns, so since Vester had some free time, he helped with the research, too. Those two had been working on spirit cores, you know—a kind of power reactor, right? So he said they already had a way to infuse magic stones with the four

primary elements of earth, water, fire, and wind."

I recalled Ramiris lecturing me about how it was key for a spirit core to generate all the elements at the once, or something. If Kaijin's team was working on that, making stones with just one element must've been simple by comparison. Beyond that, it was all about adjusting the core sizes and output levels, and there you had it—an element core composed of one of the four basic elements.

These were, of course, disposable items. Once the magic inside it ran out, it was just another pretty jewel. But Kurobe told me that these could be reused if brought back here.

"So there's no way to recharge the energy inside?"

"Oh, there is. But it requires an experienced magic user infusing their own force into the core, so it's not for laypersons."

"I see. Sounds like it could create some new jobs. Like, workshops you could bring weapons to and have them charge up their magic for you."

"Yep. I think, on the field, you'll want to pack some spares with you. That could be a market of its own."

True, true. I thought that maybe shops dealing in monster drops could mix in some magic-core sales, but now I figured we could have entire dedicated stores for them.

"But you need to be careful. This is still in the experimental stage, but depending on the combinations you try, you may wind up changing the elements."

"Combinations?"

What did he mean? You can change elements… Wait!

"As you can see here, this sword has three places to insert jewels." I knew it!

"So if you insert two opposed elements into the same weapon, you'll wind up with some element you didn't expect?"

"You got it!"

Kurobe nodded at my guess. That was big news. This definitely needed some more R and D, then—not the kind of thing we could put on the market that fast.

Negative. All data used within the labyrinth can be collated and organized.

Um, right. Yeah. That's true. It'd certainly save us some research time, so in terms of safety, the labyrinth would be ideal. In that case, maybe we ought to bring on a few labyrinth challengers and have them generate a bunch of onthe-field inspection data for us. Even if they made some amazing discovery that way, after all, the tech could still only be produced within Tempest. Maybe some of it would leak, but if we were gonna bring this to market, that'd happen sooner or later anyway. Better to have them test these weapons out in an easily controlled environment.

"By the way, what kind of dangers do you anticipate?"

"Well, you can insert as many jewels as there are holes, so if there's just one hole, no problem there. But if you put in, say, a wind core and a fire one, that results in more force. Water and fire reduced the force, but water plus two fires caused the thing to explode on us. It wasn't just three times the force—more like several dozen times. So I was just talking with Kaijin about the need for more testing."

Sounded like there were some pretty dangerous combos. More experimentation was needed, yes, and we'd need to test every result. Just as Raphael suggested, putting them in the hands of labyrinth explorers was our quickest bet.

"Is three holes the maximum?"

"Yep. Three's the best we ever managed."

In fact, a three-holed weapon was apparently something they had around a one-in-one-hundred chance of forging—and that was with Kurobe's full effort. Thus, they still only had this one here. Their apprentices, meanwhile, were still way too green to craft anything like this. Only four of their most advanced students successfully forged weapons with one jewel slot. (Even Kaijin only managed one with two holes, which tells you something about how tricky these are to make.)

"Yeah, so this is the only successful three-slot weapon we have so far. But with the right combination of cores, I think you could easily get Legendclass force from it."

Kurobe sounded proud. Magic swords are already valuable enough, but if one let you change its element on the fly, that just blew away all common sense. Imagine a magic weapon you could flip a switch on, so to speak, and instantly strike at your enemy's weak element. It was amazing. I couldn't even guess at its value, but I don't think Kurobe was kidding when he hinted it was Legend class—and with the right configuration, it really could be a Legend-class force.

From the bottom of my heart, I had to congratulate Kurobe and his team. It was astounding.

Based on our discussions, we decided that core-compatible weapons should be sent to the labyrinth first. We'd also manufacture a large number of throwaway, non-rechargeable cores and toss 'em into the maze's treasure chests. And once Kurobe's apprentices could learn how to craft these weapons in bulk, I planned to make those into labyrinth boss drops ASAP. Three-slot weapons weren't gonna be easy to make, of course, but the way I heard it, those plans were doable as long as we didn't strive for top quality —if we cut the durability enough that the weapons dropped down in class, that ought to be doable.

"You see any problems with that?"

"Nah, I think we can make it work. They'd be pretty brittle, so I wouldn't wanna rely on one in real battle, but…"

Kurobe seemed a little reluctant, but his stuff still oughtta hold up well enough for testing purposes. As long as we could get some data on the assorted core combinations, I was happy, so hopefully we could find a way to make lots of weapons with two or more slots and get them into labyrinth runners' hands. Besides, serious labyrinth regulars weren't idiots. You'd have to be a third-rate dungeon hacker to risk your life over some mystery weapon. I figured people could switch between their regular equipment and an experimental kit for this, keeping things clean. These weapons ought to be useful for parties without magic users, too.

Yes. Let's make test subjects out of our customers.

"Rimuru, why are you grinning evilly?"

"Ha-ha-ha! Oh, just your imagination, Kurobe!"

He promised me that he'd get production of a full lineup underway soon. With his consent, we now had a plan in action. We'd have to use a lot of high-quality magisteel, but it ought to provide more training for the apprentices—and it'd let us test things out and produce market-quality goods suited for on-the-field use.

I was already picturing these blades being part of the standard-issue uniform on anyone ranked lieutenant or above in our army. These, combined with a few cores to cover for the bearer's weak elements, had the potential to raise the standard for all our forces.

"Okay. Have at it!"

"Yes, sir!"

For now, it was all in Kurobe's hands.

"So, Sir Rimuru, did some kinda business bring you here today?"

That jogged my memory. The sudden reveal made me forget all about it, but I did need to speak with him.

"Yes, well, it's about this sword of mine," I said as I took out my straight sword and presented it to Kurobe.

"Does it have a slot in it now?"

"No, not that. I wouldn't have been so surprised today otherwise."

"Right, yeah…"

My blade was infused with my magic force and colored darker than the darkest of nights. But now, when I held it and let my magic flow into it—

"Wha…?! The blade—it's glowing gold… No, it's the entire rainbow. A whole array of colors!"

Kurobe stared agape at it, clearly shocked.

"Amazed, huh? Well, so was I, lemme tell you. So that's why I'm here." I was in my chamber, looking at it, when all of a sudden this happened. It'd surprise just about anyone, this dazzling rainbow sword. We didn't mix gold into it or anything, but now it was shining brighter than orichalc. So I looked into it, and…

Understood. This is the divine metal Crimson Steel.

…is what I got back. Apparently, it's this really great metal that performs even better than the orichalc I produced, but I decided to visit Kurobe to find out for sure.

"What…? What could this be? I can't Assess it at all…"

"It's called crimson steel, apparently."

"C… Crimson steel?! That actually exists? That's a mythical ore said to retain its elemental attribute for eternity. I thought it was just a fairy tale…"

Kurobe was almost too excited for words. I had thought it was a pretty remarkable mutation, but I guess it was even better than I thought.

So the two of us began researching this crimson steel blade.

What we found was that it didn't react to anything apart from my own magic force. When Kurobe gave it a try, it remained jet-black as usual. Metallically speaking, it just reacted like magisteel at that point, even though it was really crimson steel.

It's apparently the ultimate metal, one that repels all types of wavelengths. It even fully absorbs light without reflecting it, which is why it was so dark in color. This was also why, amazingly enough, it defied all attempts to Analyze and Assess it.

Only when I ran my magic through it, transforming it into battle mode, did it begin to shine. I was worried it'd stand out too much if I whipped it out in public, but by now I knew that, as long as no magic was in it, it behaved. It was also way more durable than your average weapon—because it could "retain its elemental attribute for eternity," that meant it was basically unbreakable. If it ever did break for some reason, I could just infuse some magic to repair it. It made me wonder how a fight between two crimson steel blades would turn out, but it's not like there's any way to test that out.

One thing I could say right now, however, is that this sword really was suited for me. Compared with anything else in the world, its evolution had made it impossibly durable. Combined with my Absolute Defense, it oughtta stand up to some pretty rough use.

Even better: This sword wasn't yet complete. I was planning to chisel out some slots on the hilt for cores, so I could change its element at will. Just imagining that put me in a dream state. It's already an excellent piece, and it'll get even better? So much to look forward to.

"What a blade that is, though. It hardly looks like I forged it any longer…"

"Oh, not at all, Kurobe! You did great work on this!"

"Thanks, Sir Rimuru. Always glad to hear that from ya!"

It took someone like Kurobe to birth this sword. He was endlessly modest about himself, but there was no doubt in my mind.

"Now I'm wondering if I could've beaten Hinata with this."

A Kurobe masterpiece like this has to be equivalent to Legend class, right? But Kurobe himself surprised me even further.

"Against Moonlight? Her own Legend class? Hmm… Well, maybe even better than that, eh? With this blade, maybe we're getting into God-class territory. Like what beat Sir Veldora himself."

God class. The ultimate of lofty peaks. No weapon of that class was known to currently exist, and none were even described in legend or tradition. But here it was.

In fact, Milim's Temma Sword, similarly magical, was also in this class. She showed it to me once. I couldn't Assess it back then, but Raphael stated that it was higher quality than Hinata's Moonlight. And now I had something that came to that point—this amazing culmination of force. Even now, Kurobe thought, it'd rank among the upper echelons of Legend-class weaponry, so I felt safe expecting it'd reach that peak in the end.

We both marveled at the sword for a while.

"Man, swords like this are just so cool, aren't they?"

"They sure are. I don't see patterns along the sword this pretty too often at all."

That Japan-style hamon pattern, the fruits of all of Kurobe's technical talents, dazzled the eye up and down the permanent, unbending crimson steel. It seemed like a work of art as we gazed at it, sighing in reverie. It was so beautiful that I thought we could've stood there staring forever. Truly, the best sword in the world—and it's still evolving. It seemed safe to say that I had a God-class blade here, and considering how low my expectations had been at first, I couldn't be any more elated.

I heard hurried footsteps coming toward us. They didn't slow down when they reached the door to my office. Instead, the door flew open without a knock.

Only Milim would do this. If anyone besides Milim tried something so rude with me, they'd swiftly face a pummeling at the hands of Rigurd—or in the case of Veldora or Ramiris, no snacks for a week. Today was a special day, however, so I let it slide.

After all…

"R-Rimuru! It's hatching! It's about to hatch!"

She had taken to constantly carrying that egg around with her as of late, never letting it go. And she'd been holed up in my nation instead of her own —meaning she wanted easy access to me, in case of complications.

I could tell she was frantic. The avatar core—the egg nestled within the body of Milim's lifelong friend Gaia—was now beating a rhythm with its faint glow. Clearly, it was a matter of time. Gaia was about to be born as an entirely new sort of monster.

"Kweeeeeeeeeeee!!"

With a few well-placed cracks, a tiny-size dragon burst from the egg. Call it a mini-dragon, if you want—maybe about a foot and a half tall. You'd never guess this was originally a Chaos Dragon.

"…Is that you, Gaia?"

"Kwee, kwee!!"

Girl and dragon hugged each other tight. A tearful reunion.

* * *

Gaia had wasted no time hatching after Milim burst through the door. Now the greatest danger was past, so presumably she'd be going back home now…or not.

"Right! Time for us to head out on an adventure with Gaia!" I…was expecting she'd say that, so I had my answer preloaded.

"Isn't Frey worried about you?"

As Milim's sort-of guardian, Frey was bound to have a word or two to say about her frolicking around the countryside without her permission. If Gaia was still incubating, that was one thing, but now that the birth went off without a hitch, Milim no doubt had a pile of work waiting for her. "Wah-ha-ha-ha-ha! No need to worry!" No need to worry?

Rimuru attacked Milim with Concerned Advice! But Milim parried the strike!!

I kid, I kid.

But hey, if she says so, I'm not gonna refute her. I had been pretty busy recently cleaning things up post-Maribel. Only now had I regained a little "me" time. Maybe we should all go out and have some fun for a change.

"Besides," she smugly added, "it's exactly what she needs. Dragons are apex predators, so she'll only eat monsters she catches herself, even as a baby. I gotta teach her how to hunt!"

Dragons, she said, didn't starve that easily. In fact, as long as Gaia had ready access to water and magicules, that was enough to live on. But it wasn't enough to grow on. If we wanted her to be big and strong, she needed exercise (in the form of battle) and good food (in the form of slain monsters). Hence, Milim explained, the need for a thrilling adventure, right now. To me, it looked like she just wanted to play hooky from Frey again, but in her own way, maybe she was thinking pretty deeply about this.

"All right. In that case, I know the perfect spot."

"Oh?! The labyrinth, right?"

"You guessed it!"

And in another minute, we kicked off Operation Get Gaia Big & Strong.

But first, we needed some help. I decided to tap Veldora and Ramiris, reassembling the old gang for another labyrinth challenge.

With Gaia among us, we now had a party of five, and even though she was still a newborn, she'd be safe in the Dungeon, or at least much more so than the outside world where God knows what could be waiting for her.

"Kwah-ha-ha-ha! We're all busy right now, but of course we'll do you a favor! Feel free to tap upon all my powers!"

"Yes, yes, now that we're here, you've got nothing to worry about! Put your mind at ease—Gaia's in our hands now!" I was suddenly very concerned.

…No. It's all right. Just trust them.

Veldora and Ramiris had matured, after all. They could factor people besides themselves into their decisions. And even Milim understood that this was education for Gaia, not playtime; I doubted she'd let herself run too wild.

"All right, let's go!"

With my shout, we all Possessed our avatars simultaneously, and our adventure began.

Job one was to power-level Gaia. It was Veldora, Ramiris, Milim, and me, with the flight-capable Gaia behind us. As a dragon—in fact, formerly a Chaos Dragon who could've destroyed the world—she couldn't have been a wimp, and she didn't disappoint. After just a few battles, she had already begun grasping the general idea, spewing wide-range breath attacks at whole groups of foes. Her Chaotic Breath was a thick, concentrated miasma, tinged with a curse that corroded every type of matter. It was close to Rot (part of Belzebuth's arsenal) in effect, and it was easily strong enough to keep baselevel monsters at bay.

Gaia also bore the earth element within her. This ability, writ into her "soul," made it possible to control gravity. If the Chaos Dragon released from that seal earlier had any sort of intelligence left… I shuddered to think about it. There'd be Chaotic Breath and gravity fields that weighted on you like boulders all over the joint; the fallout would've been far, far worse. But that's in the past. Now Gaia was Milim's cute li'l pet and our erstwhile companion, nothing to be afraid of.

Then a Blood Boar appeared, a B-ranked monster with powerful kicks who lurked around Floor 30 and below. Its head and shoulders were protected with hard bone and muscle, its outer hide thicker than steel. It was nearly seven feet long, but it could still head-butt you at speeds up to thirty miles an hour. Nothing to trifle with. Run into one in a long, straight corridor, and you'd be up the creek with no easy escape.

But even someone that dangerous was no foe of ours. Gaia promptly broke out her gravitational magic, slowing the Blood Boar's charge down. Not missing the opportunity, Milim's single swipe hit at a weak point, felling the beast. The Blood Boar got its name because its mane was dyed red with its foes' blood, but now it was a kind of staple food for Gaia. It was a pretty good achievement for day one, and I looked forward to her future growth.

We were now a perfect team.

Gaia had a skill called Gravity Field that potentially reduced the effects of physical attacks. Deploying one alongside my Magic Barrier gave us a good debuff for any magic attacks as well. We developed a few team moves like this over the next few days, and before long, Gaia became the keystone to our party battles.

After that, between on-the-field battle practice and Gaia feeding, we had made it down to Floor 49. Awaiting us was Bovix, the boss that gave us so much unexpected trouble last time.

"Kwaaah-ha-ha-ha! Bovix better prepare to be flattened!"

"Yep, yep! I'll barely even have to lift a finger!"

"Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Now I'm getting pumped up!"

"Kweeeeee!!"

They were all really into it. What? Wasn't I, too? Don't be ridiculous. We're all pitching in for Gaia's sake, remember. But…you know…maybe a little. Maybe we were having a little fun. But it's all for Gaia's education, okay?

It was with that lofty cause in mind that we left the labyrinth after another day of hard work.

"Looks like you're having fun."

Waiting at the door was the spine-freezing sight of Frey, with a friendly smile and a couple bulging veins on her forehead.

"Geh…! F-Frey?! W-wait! No! I can explain all this!!"

I didn't think it was the first time I heard that line. I wonder why? And I had a feeling the rest of this conversation would seem awfully familiar, too. "You promised me you'd come home after Gaia was born, didn't you?"

"N-no! Gaia needs me!"

"Yes, I know she does. But is that a good reason to break your promise?"

"But her training…"

"And just like Gaia, you yourself need some training of your own.

Wouldn't you agree?"

"…?!"

She got her.

It was just beyond Milim's ability to out-debate Frey. No matter how willful and self-indulgent she was, Milim couldn't beat her. And I had no intention of grabbing that tiger by the tail, either. Who'd ever want to get caught up in that? I mean, all Frey's giving her is the cold, hard truth.

Milim wound up resorting to whining and carrying on in the end, but it was all fruitless against the iron wall of Frey's smile as she dragged her away. Which, well, it was Milim's fault this time, too, so what could I say? If she'd at least let Frey know first, I doubt she would've gotten this pent-up about it, but ah well.

"I'll come back soon!" Milim shouted as she left, but I didn't think she'd be able to pull that act a third time. She wasn't being grounded or anything; I'm sure she had Frey's permission for regular visits, although maybe not for a bit now. Even Frey knew the dangers of not letting Milim take a breather now and then. That's why she was going easy, but if Milim kept pressing her luck, who knows what'd happen? Not that I should butt into someone else's family drama, but maybe I should teach Milim the benefits of keeping your coworkers on the same page at all times.

Such were my thoughts as I saw Milim leave. For now, I'd have custody of Gaia. Her unlimited-use Resurrection Bracelet kept her safe in the labyrinth, and she had a ton of food to eat in there. What's more, I could set my avatar to auto-mode and have it work in tandem with her down there, helping her train. She's still a bit young for Milim to take over that process, so we planned to transfer her over once she was strong enough. I thus had a new labyrinth companion.

By the way, I had no way of knowing this, but our party of five wandering the halls was becoming feared as a unique set of bosses. Rumor had it that they'd present themselves with one of two strength levels—the normal one was troublesome enough, but sometimes they'd ratchet it up even further. Essentially, whenever we directly controlled our avatars, we were treated as a nightmare beyond anyone's ability. I'd only learn about that a little while later.

If we kept playing down there while Milim was gone, we'd never hear the end of it. She'd tell right away from how our avatars grew while we had auto-mode turned off, and even without that, she had a sixth sense for that kinda thing. It's like playing with fire.

So let's go over some of the more serious things I've been working on.

One urgent piece of business was establishing rules for our dealings with the Western Nations. As demon lord and leader of the Jura-Tempest Federation, I had final say on pretty much anything within my borders. I left some of that to Rigurd and the rest, but the most important matters required my confirmation.

I had a lot of power, really—our judicial system, legislation, and administration ran on my complete discretion. I held sway over all three, giving me supreme authority over all affairs of state. I was also commanderin-chief, running the main keystone of our nation; one order and I could send the whole army on the march, and any officers could only be appointed with my approval. We were a federation in name only—I was a de facto despot.

Of course, in practice, I spread these responsibilities around a bunch. Our administration was entirely Rigurd's field, and Benimaru, serving as my agent, enjoyed full control of the military. We were in the midst of fielding talented new people to serve as their assistants.

Meanwhile, Rigurd had been studying the concept of a three-branch government. Rugurd, Regurd, and Rogurd, all former goblin elders, each held the top position in our judicial, legislative, and administrative branches, respectively. But there was a problem. The whole idea of a three-branch system was that every branch had checks and balances over the other. The legislative setup of Japan was no exception. But in our case, the border between legislative and administrative was far too vague, and I had no idea what to do about it.

For one thing, we needed to establish an actual legislature. I decided to divide this into an upper and lower house. I'd name the members of the upper house, and we'd vote on the lower house members—that kind of thing. An appointment to the upper house was for life, unless you caused some kind of problem and were unseated, but only votes could get you into the lower house. Elections, of course, aren't easy things. It would be a trial-and-error process for us.

It'd be the legislative branch's sole job to enact laws, and the administrative's to follow them and run the nation. I wanted our administration to be loaded with talent. Looking at the Japanese government, even if the prime minister changed out pretty frequently, the bureaucrats behind the nuts-and-bolts operation of the country were like steadfast mountains (barring recent events). I needed people with the perseverance to doggedly build up long-lasting policies over time, never throwing in the towel. Long-term projects often grew a lot of fat on them, and administrators could always get bought off and do nefarious things, but I hoped that everyone keeping a careful watch over matters would prevent that.

For these administrative positions, I recommended the elders of the assorted species associated with Tempest. Those too advanced in age to serve could name representatives to fill in for them. Going forward, I thought we'd see this evolve into a meritocracy. For now, we still needed to talk about alleviating opposing interests between races, but in the future, I imagined there'd be more of a sense of unity, of a single nation of Tempestians. It'd take time, but I wanted our nation's policy to be peaceful reconciliation.

That's fine and all, of course, but there was an issue. A lot of the talent pool for this kind of thing belonged to the weaker species, while the heads of the more warlike races weren't suited for working with complex written documents. This was kind of a big problem. Should I focus on our strength as monsters or on our intelligence and willingness to cooperate with humans? The question agonized me.

No matter their muscle, I couldn't give major authority to the lawless. This was public knowledge around Tempest, and the beefier Tempestians were kind enough to be satisfied with military posts for me. But that meant they had no authority to speak about our administration's direction, and depending on how our policies went, that might sow some discord later.

Our legislative leaders would gather feedback from the people and stamp their seal of approval on it. But if our administration was run by the brainiest of the brainy among our weaker races, the stronger ones could stand to lose their civil rights. Even now, I could see the discontent that'd result. A government administrator had a heavy task. They had to manage the nation's budget, taking command over the massive amount of riches flowing into Tempest. Mjöllmile was our top man in finances, but he alone wasn't enough to catch any discrepancies. Our administration also had to oversee how our land was apportioned out. I wanted proper zoning and development, but that whole process looked easy to muck up. To prevent logjams, they needed the authority to send out orders under my name.

Finally, the judicial system. The judiciary's most important job was to deliver justice for arrested suspects. Policing came under the authority of the administration, but all three branches would have the power of arrest—one of the checks and balances. The judiciary had to judge them in courts, and that meant it had to be the most impartial branch of all, not listening to public feedback and solely protecting the legal order. Judging by the law, and not from your gut, is a lot harder than it looks, and keeping tabs on that was another consideration that gave me a headache.

So Rigurd and I were studying hard in order to flesh out our three-branch system.

The legislature would listen to the people, talk things over, and enact laws. Being consistent with this would help us pursue an open government. For the administration, we were training Rigurd and other talents to serve as bureaucrats. I also wanted to hurry along the establishment of a law enforcement agency, in order to strengthen the authority of our nation's core organizations. Benimaru's military, as well as Soei's Team Kurayami intelligence unit, answered only to me. To keep from duplicating orders and causing confusion, I decreed that they didn't need to follow the administration's commands—along those lines, I planned to appoint a fairly big name to lead our public prosecutor's office.

That left one more thing: a problem with our judiciary. Running an impartial court could easily make our judges into targets. If I wanted to be thorough with this, I needed people with not just intellectual skill but physical strength. Our judges would have bodyguards, of course, but that still left me with concerns. Anyone who did something like attack a judge out of spite would absolutely get the death penalty, but some attackers may just be willing to accept that. Monsters are far stronger than people. No matter how well guarded you were, you could be lunged at in a flash. Thus, I preferred that our judges had some strength of their own to work with.

"Hmm… In that case, I'd be worried about Rugurd by himself."

"Indeed. He's my right-hand man in every way, but in terms of muscle, he'd lose out to an army lieutenant. Rogurd would never let your average youth beat him, but…"

Rugurd could be a calculating schemer, but in his decisions, he was completely above the board. The judge's bench was the perfect position for him, but if push came to shove, he wasn't strong enough to defend himself. Rogurd definitely could hold his own one-on-one against an army captain, though. Shame he was already exercising his authority over our assorted government organizations right now. Transferring him to the judiciary would be tough.

"Also, you know, I'd really like to establish a public prosecutor's office in our administration. Gobta and the gang can keep tabs on criminal activity around the nation, but doing the same for our leaders and legislators is asking a little too much, isn't it?"

"Yes, you're right. In addition to our diverse array of monsters, we have a number of well-known magic-born visiting our lands. The Founder's Festival has attracted many powerful fellows to the city as well. They could potentially cause all kinds of strife."

The Founder's Festival had a lot of positive impacts for us. It also attracted a bunch of would-be strongmen with a penchant for violence. That was, in a way, what we aimed for, but some of those fools couldn't keep their brawling inside the labyrinth. Our security team had beefed up its forces since Gobta's return, but to Rigurd, that didn't seem like enough.

"You mean magic-born who are A rank or so?"

"Just a few, but yes. They didn't show any outward signs of violence, but I do think we should stay on our guard."

He was right. Better to be prepared. There was wide variance between people's abilities to fight, so if we waited until a magic-born went berserk, it'd be too late.

"So a prosecutor and a judiciary…and we still need to decide who to send as our Council of the West representative. Everybody's already got enough on their plates, so I hate to make any unwise personnel shifts…"

"It could lead to potential chaos, indeed."

Mmm… A lot of headaches. Our systems were starting to fall into place, our laws being enacted…but our mechanism for keeping the whole thing running was still weak. And don't get me started on all the unfilled posts. I know this is one of the harmful side effects of growing so fast, but what I'd give for some more people…

But no point stewing over people who weren't there. I needed a change of pace, so I decided to make a couple field trips to our worksites.

Geld's construction of a new capital for the former Beast Kingdom of Eurazania was proceeding smoothly. All the foundational work was already done—the stakes driven into the bedrock, the magically reinforced concrete kept in place by rebar and steel frames—and seeing it was awe-inspiring.

Magic-infused solid rock provided more merits than simply being sturdier. It emitted its own wavelength of magical force, allowing it to repel lower-level magic. You couldn't transport it with gravity-reduction spells, which was a disadvantage, but that merit still made it worth the trouble. Once that huge, towerlike palace is completed, it'll be impervious to most magical attacks, whether from the outside or inside.

On the site, I could see gigantic blocks of cut-out and polished magical rock, several hundred times harder than concrete, lined up in rows. In the middle, supported by this foundation, was a support column that thrust into the heavens; blocks were suspended from it to construct the outer walls. The scale was so gigantic that even this column struck a dizzying presence. People darted around like ants; everything looked out of scale, proving just how massive this structure was.

"Well, hello, Sir Rimuru! Thank you so much for coming."

Geld ran up to me, grinning as he greeted me. I had used Dominate Space to transport myself here, not wanting to get in the way of things, but Geld must've noticed me anyway.

"Hey, Geld. Long time no see. I'm glad to see everything's going well."

"Ha-ha-ha! Thank you very much. I'm sure everyone will be delighted to hear that from you!"

His cheerful laughter echoed across the site, much to my relief. He wouldn't be acting that way if things were awry. You can only enjoy your job if you're working in a bright, happy atmosphere.

"No, I mean it. This is better work than I imagined. It almost feels like you'll be done early, doesn't it?"

"Yes, and I can only think it's because we've all opened up to each other."

As Geld explained, he had been thinking for a while after our previous discussion. He took his thoughts to the POW magic-born, going around and listening to their complaints and grumbling. If someone just doesn't care, then nothing you can say will reach their heart. Geld wasn't the type to rule by force; instead, he started by learning everyone else's thoughts.

"A lot of them feared their future treatment. Given how they openly warred against you, Sir Rimuru, they worried they'd all be done in once construction was completed."

"Huh? There's no way I'd do that."

"Of course not. We all know you're not that sort of coldhearted demon lord. But they are new to all this, and they didn't know your nature, so I imagine they still had their concerns. So I told them all about my own experiences…"

To be exact, he told them about my battle against the orc lord and what became of the orcish armies under him. The magic-born seemed only half ready to believe it, but there were many high orcs on the construction team, and they all backed up Geld's story, helping ease any doubts.

"Some of them said you were being too much of a pushover, Sir Rimuru.

So I said to them, so what? If you can't even defeat me in battle, how are you going to rebel against a demon lord? That quieted them all down." Geld grinned.

If this were Shion or Diablo, they might've blown their top and brutally murdered any magic-born who said that. Again, it showed me just how broad-minded Geld was.

So he had managed to open the hearts of our former POWs. Once a week, he said, he rewarded their efforts with wine and a tasty spread. Now they were cooperating as one, all smitten by Geld's sheer manliness. They really felt like they were being useful, which was the biggest thing of all. If they thought their work wasn't being recognized, it'd kill their self-esteem.

Hard work not only freed them from being prisoners, it also showed them the joy of a job well done. It should be obvious, but this was far more efficient than any kind of forced labor.

So the higher-level magic-born's cooperation was providing us with a huge boost. With the increased labor force, we no longer had staff shortages. Work started to just hum along, and so construction was going faster than I expected. Compared with a building job in my old world, the pace was kind of frightening. In fact, there really was no comparison. All this with no heavy machinery, driven by elbow grease alone!

It really made you take a step back—but then again, one look at the worksite quelled all questions. Common sense never applied to magic-born. Some could take weights of several tons and just heft them on their shoulders, all by themselves. Any scrap material or rock could be pulverized with a single fist. Flight was a given with these guys, so safety at lofty heights was never a concern. Any regulations drafted with humans in mind simply didn't apply.

I just had to nod, in awe, and accept it. No wonder this was going so fast.

And this wasn't the only building site.

In war, deploying in multiple directions at once is usually ill-advised but

not with construction. We decided that a multitiered plan that followed a certain order would be more efficient. It'd train our combat engineers as well, so I left teams of crewmen to our commanders, assigning them areas to cover.

To be exact, we now had four distinct construction departments—one in Dwargon, one in Englesia, one in Eurazania, and one in Thalion.

In Dwargon, we already had a complete highway in place. The inns serving it were finished, the roads widened to allow for a dedicated magitrain rail line. We were even hiring adventurers as day laborers— wherever work's available, people come soon after, so things were pretty busy over there.

Next, Englesia. Things here were about the same as Dwargon. We had built the highway there on the wider side as well, so rails were being laid down. That work would be completed soon.

Construction over on Eurazania came last. We were expanding the highway right now, taking care to preserve the local ecosystem as we did. Any trees cut down during construction were slated for use in the building of the new capital, so we were fine-tuning our transport logistics.

Thalion, meanwhile, was slow going. We had to start by clearing out forest land, so we were experiencing more delays than I thought. I'd assigned high orcs to handle this task as they were capable of carrying things around via their Stomachs. The high orcs were the most skillful group for this, so simply making a road wasn't a problem. However, they also had to transport the trees they felled, and that required labor. Once things wrapped up in Eurazania, we planned to shuttle the staff over to Thalion to help out. For now, at least, they would open a path in the forest. We could take our time paving the highway later on. Opening the planned tunnel and installing rails were both projects we decided to put off for later.

That was the state of things in the four regions.

Not everyone agreed with a magitrain line between us and the Dwarven

Kingdom. Some people feared the possibility that we'd misread the Eastern Empire's moves and let information on the project leak out. They could potentially steal the magitrain plans and use them against us in a military invasion, a kind of double-edged sword. We could also have the rail lines we spent so much time on get torn up and destroyed.

Others suggested that we should be focusing our building efforts on things like anti-Empire military outposts. The highway's largest lodging facility was on the site where the road met the Ameld River; they wanted this reworked into more of a fortress city. I gave it some thought but opted against it. It seemed pointless. There was no telling how the Eastern Empire would move yet, so I hesitated to add further needless work to our plates. Even now, with more workers on hand, we still had tons to do—I didn't want to divert labor to more low-priority projects.

That didn't mean we weren't on alert. We didn't take action because we assumed the Empire would do nothing—instead, if they ever seriously decided to confront us, we'd simply crush them with everything we had. I had no interest in extended mind games here; it'd be stupid to stay on hyperalert for ages on end. Depending on what they did, I was ready to use our full powers to bring any conflict to a very quick resolution. My cabinet and I reasoned that was the cleanest way to go at it.

Yes, we did need to worry about damage to our railways and so on, but if it happens, we can always rebuild. We couldn't delay development because we were scared of potential future events—the angels' attack, for one. No matter who's confronting us, we weren't about to step down. If the enemy comes riding in, we annihilate them and start building again.

We needed to consider protecting ourselves, but really, our greatest asset wasn't things. It's people. If we keep our workers safe, we're good. And after pursuing that plan, I found that our construction work was going at a shockingly fast clip.

My final stop on this impromptu inspection trip was the Kingdom of Farminus.

As promised, Yohm had recruited a team to handle the preliminary work for a magitrain line. They had picked sites for the rail line, according to the report I read, and surveying had just been completed. I figured they'd get to work on that after the harvest season was over, but Yohm—or Mjurran, really —made this a bigger priority.

"Why wouldn't I?" she said with a smile. "We know how rich we can get off the foreign currency we receive for our crops. If we should ever have a famine, that's enough money to easily provide food support. I would absolutely hate to see your magitrains ready to deploy and us without any railways to support them."

She was more passionate about the project than I was. As the queen of Farminus, she was now taking an active policy making role for her kingdom.

"Ha-ha-ha! Guess I don't even have to be here, eh? This is more up Rommel's alley anyway. He's runnin' things on-site."

Yohm grinned as he introduced me to Rommel, a man I had seen a few times before—the sorcerer on Yohm's team during his adventuring days, if I recall. He looked nervous as he updated me on their current status, unfurling a map detailed enough to be classified material and explaining in detail where the highway would go. It had all been surveyed to the level of detail I requested, and I had promised to make the final checks, so I quickly headed over, examining the whole path before the day was through.

"There's still a few kinks we need to work out, but overall it makes the grade. You wrote down exactly who's responsible for each section, right?"

"Yes, Sir Rimuru, we've procured everything as you outlined to us."

"Okay. Then have the people running this section, this section, and also this section investigate these spots for me again."

It seemed to me personnel training was going well here. They had a complete project map in place, all within permissible levels of accuracy. Some of the teams weren't quite all there yet, but I could tell they were diligently studying their craft. If they could look things over one more time, I was sure they'd recognize their own mistakes. A bit of tough love, maybe, but I couldn't get lazy here. Maybe we'd have computer precision if I did everything, but that'd be meaningless. I wanted them to earn the achievement of doing this themselves. It'd help raise the next generation of engineers.

At this rate, I didn't think the fixes would take much time. We could likely push construction up a bit. I'd probably need to ask Kaijin soon to get our automatic magical generators ready for them. These generators were real impressive, all but guaranteeing the safety of travelers on the highway to Blumund. Since they operated as stone slabs reacting to magicules, they served as guideposts for the highway as well. Tempest's visitors liked them a lot, as did our soldiers who ran the highway patrol. The magicule count around Farminus wasn't as high as the Forest of Jura, but we planned to put the generators in regardless.

Yohm and his court gave us a warm welcome that day.

"I gotta love how you're still swaggerin' around by yourself everywhere.

Doin' whatever ya want, huh, pal? I'm jealous."

The drunken Yohm seemed pretty serious about that. But he misread me. I wasn't alone.

"I've got Ranga with me, actually."

"You called, Master?!"

He popped his face from out behind my shadow.

"Whoa! You were there? You startled me…"

"I'm sure he did. I doubt many people could hope to lay a finger on a demon lord, but it is the duty of any humble servant to be concerned for his master's safety. It is true for me as well, my liege, and I hope you will consider acting more like the king you are."

"Yeah, sure, Edgar. You know I'm gonna be free of this job once yer grown enough, right?"

Edgar was the son of Edmaris, the previous king. He seemed intelligent enough, and I certainly couldn't doubt his lineage. Yohm, apparently, still felt a little like he usurped the throne of his own country, so he was keen on naming someone from the mainline royal family as his crown prince.

"Don't be silly, Your Majesty! You know Queen Mjur is with child, and it is only natural that they will inherit the throne next! And it is my humble dream to serve this new ruler someday, so please refrain from any statements that could be interpreted as encouraging a succession battle!"

It sounded like Edgar had no interest in being king. But suddenly I wasn't so concerned about that.

"Whoa, wait a second. Did you just drop some big news on me?"

I was about to give Ranga a big, meaty bone when my hand stopped. Queen Mjur was with child? Yes, it was pretty simple for a human and a high-level magic-born to produce offspring, but…

"Your Majesty," Edgar began with a roll of the eyes, "after everything Sir

Rimuru has done for you, you still haven't informed him of the pregnancy?" "Aw, but I was too embarrassed—"

"And it seemed awkward for me to break the news, so…"

Those two really were made for each other. But didn't monsters and magic-born get weaker upon giving birth? Would Mjurran be okay?

"That won't be a problem," she briskly replied. "I was originally human, after all. And I may weaken, yes, but at this point in my life, strength means little. I'll retain all my magic and knowledge, so it will hardly be much of a hindrance."

"And by the way, that Gruecith still ain't recovered from the news. Guess it was too much of a shock for the guy…"

Ah. I was wondering why I hadn't seen him at all. But hey, there's plenty of fish in the sea, y'know? Not that it was for me to comment on anyway. There's never really been a significant other in my life. It's something Gruecith's was gonna have to tackle himself.

"Well, um, my condolences to him. Are your knight corps doing okay despite that?"

Diablo had managed to tame the bloodthirsty rebel forces of the past. I didn't think there was much to worry about, but if their captain was in that state of affairs, it gave me pause.

"Ahhh, it's going fine. His pals are still around, and I tell ya, Razen's really pullin' his weight, too. Livin' legend is right, I guess. He's constantly impressin' me."

Oh, right. Razen was here. Diablo had made a servant out of him, but it sounded like he was working hard in Farminus. Of course, Diablo's unique skill Tempter had forged a mortal contract between the two of them, so a betrayal from him was out of the question.

"Yes," said Edgar, eyes shining like the boy he was, "and Sir Razen's still got the energy to go around the country, inspecting and observing matters. He contacts us magically on regular occasions, and if the weeds of unrest ever show themselves, he immediately uproots them for us!"

It sounded like Razen was pretty popular in Farminus. To me, who had mostly just heard about him, I thought Razen did some pretty inhumane things —but when it came to protecting his nation, he was absolutely the man to count on.

I saw no need to dredge up past issues, so I listened to Edgar describe him. It was interesting, hearing about things from someone else's perspective.

The winners write the history books, as they say, and the losers come out with nothing. To the citizens of Farminus, though, King Edmaris and Razen were the good guys. If I had lost the battle against the Farmus forces, right now I'd be touted as a fiendish warlord leading an apocalyptic horde of monsters. I didn't want to look down on anyone, but that's the kind of freedom winning got you.

Along those lines, the new nation Yohm established could be classified as a pretty big success. The more talented people in office beforehand were still maintaining their roles, keeping the nation well administrated and discontent at a minimum. They were also controlling the media to keep us from gaining a bad reputation, and Tempest was now seen as a friendly partner. At this rate, any prejudice against monsters was bound to dissipate over time. Diablo's talents really shone here, I think. He gave me pretty much the exact results I wanted. I guess he's just that good at reading people.

So everything was going according to plan. That gladdened me, and I rounded out the night talking merrily with Yohm and everyone else.

While I was at work, Ramiris and Veldora were apparently tackling something of their own. Once I returned from my inspection run, they were waiting together to greet me. With them, it'd either be a major problem or something they wanted to brag about, and this time it was the latter.

"We've done it, Rimuru! We've competed our test unit. If the tests end successfully, we can begin mass-producing these with haste!"

"Mm-hmm, mm-hmm! And lemme tell ya, I'm brimming with confidence about this! C'mon, check it out!" I let them hurry me along.

Tempest currently had several research sites in operation. One was the workshop of Kurobe and his apprentices, open to the public. Much of their R and D was stuff that had no value if stolen, unless you had someone with Kurobe's talents. The special weapons I enlisted them for were an exception, but for the most part, we revealed all the weapons and armor created in there. A little advertising never hurt, and we had decided to release this stuff with a splash, introducing a spring line and everything. I wanted to mold "Kurobe" and "Garm" into real, established brands someday.

But we were headed elsewhere, to a facility handling a range of research kept classified by the government. We needed an easily guardable site that regular people couldn't get inside, and so we focused on inside the Dungeon.

On Floor 100 was Tempest's publicly funded R and D center, led by Gabil, along with individual research spaces for Ramiris, Veldora, and me. We had another large facility on Floor 95, inside the park we established on that level. The beastman refugees were no longer there, and we had a huge amount of space, so I figured we may as well take advantage. We had alchemists from Dwargon, sorcerous researchers from Thalion, and vampire researchers with too much time on their hands from Lubelius assembled in Tempest, and we needed a large-scale facility to house them all.

Each of them brought their own specialized talents. The dwarven alchemists were gifted in spirit engineering, the field that birthed the magicarmor soldier project Kaijin and Vester were once involved with. In this world, natural phenomena were thought of as tied to the spirits—the five base elements of earth, water, fire, wind, and air, and the three higher elements of light, dark, and time. Science that harnessed these phenomena and technological systems that developed them were known as spirit engineering; it formed the mainstream of scientific thinking around here.

Our visitors from Thalion, meanwhile, were schooled in the largely concealed field of sorcerous science, a scholarly realm that only those who truly master magic could reach. Its core fundamentals were proposed by the Thalion emperor Elmesia's mother, a genius elven researcher. Her teachings had been inherited and replicated by a large number of people.

The field even ventured into the philosophical, exploring just how far one could wrangle magic to change the world and its natural laws. It's the sort of thing Diablo would love, I'm sure. The true worth of this theorizing, however, was in forcing certain alterations to preexisting phenomena, which would help advance the field of spirit engineering in turn. You needed to be a true expert in elemental magic to even begin to understand it, but the potential benefits went without saying. (What also went without saying was that Thalion kept it strictly confidential, prohibiting anyone from revealing its secrets to other nations.)

Finally, there were the vampires, whom I accepted after my promise to

Luminus. These were overcomers, vampires powerful enough to be deemed Calamity-level threats, and they were all rather eccentric characters, but at least there weren't many of them. I had very real concerns they might cause me trouble, but it turned out I shouldn't have worried.

"Hey, hey, Sir Rimuru! Lemme tell you how curious we are about all the fun stuff in here, man!"

This was my main contact among them, and he was an extremely cheerful, affable man. They just loved new things. None of them minded humans or elves or dwarves among their coworkers—not when they had such big intellectual curiosities to satisfy. Some of them came off as pretty arrogant, but Veldora and Ramiris worked alongside them, and while Ramiris was never gonna serve as a decent authority figure, her servants Beretta and Treyni weren't about to stand for it. Anyone too arrogant for their tastes got less than royal treatment.

"Yo, get me some tea, girl!"

"Yessss, right awaaaaay, sirrrrrr!!"

"Man, work took a lot out of me today. My shoulders are killing me." "Ohhhhh, let me massaaaage them, sirrrr!!" And these were the overcomers? Eesh.

"Those damned fools! Pathetic!"

The vampires' leader whined a bit about it, but nobody dared lodge a complaint at Veldora or Ramiris. They were a lot more cooperative after that.

Their research, meanwhile, was actually pretty interesting. They were taking the opposite approach from sorcerous science—something Luminus dismissed as useless, but I disagreed. On Earth, we'd call their field of research physical engineering. They were trying to discover the rules of nature with all the magical elements removed. The laws of physics they produced from that, laid out in intricate detail, stemmed from the heart of their science.

This was all totally reproducible work, but while I should have expected it, in a world where the degree of magic in an area can affect things differently, it was treated as kind of a fringe field. Luminus didn't like it, which I thought was interesting in itself. Even if all this data gathering was just a pastime for a bunch of bored vampires, their massive archives held a lot of purpose for me. They made it easier to examine the effects of magic. Any great new breakthrough is the product of a number of much smaller ones, so I thought their research didn't deserve revulsion at all.

So I now had teams of leading experts in a variety of intellectual fields in my nation. The information they brought was invaluable, the potential results when you mixed them together incalculable. Our nation's task was to secure their safety and comply with any secrecy requirements related to their results.

I thus had all researchers wear special Ramiris-crafted bracelets, basically unlimited-use Resurrection Bracelets that also provided communications and teleportation within the labyrinth (although only between the research facility and the surface). The need for confidentiality would be an inconvenience for many researchers, so I thought this freebie could help them out.

None of them could leave Floor 95 without teleporting. Their data was recorded whenever they did so, preventing leaks. They could also ask a dryad to teleport them, but that required Treyni's okay, so any spy activity in the labyrinth would be doomed to fail. Of course, I thought the overcomers had an honest chance of fighting their way down the normal route—but it'd be inherently dangerous. Not even I knew all the traps laid throughout, but I doubted even a talented team of vampires would find it a cakewalk. We kept tabs on their movements, so we could tail them in case they tried anything and capture them once the labyrinth hopefully slowed them down.

We had such draconian measures in place for a good reason. Angels apparently come down to attack advanced civilizations in this world, and that was a big part of it. Ramiris's labyrinth couldn't be a better safeguard; even an angel attack could be kept away from Floor 95. If worse came to worst, Ramiris bragged, she could just "update" the Dungeon and swap Floor 95 out with Floor 99.

This city and facility in the labyrinth's deepest recesses was the safest spot in all of Tempest. Keeping it fully isolated was a great way to stop classified leaks and maintain the health of its inhabitants. Floor 95 provided the most extensive services my nation had to offer, and I thought it'd be more than enough to satisfy anyone who took advantage of them.

By the way, our former main research site in the Sealed Cave was currently closed off. After multiple rounds of hipokute cultivation, the concentration of magicules in the herbs had started to take a dip. They were still high, but we anticipated that yields would continue their downward trend. So we decided to change cultivation sites—or really, we just devoted a section of Floor 93's flower gardens to hipokute growth, upping the magicule count to encourage sudden mutations among the weeds. Gabil's lab was already moved to Floor 100, too, so that made things more convenient for him.

The shuttered cave was now populated by wyverns, accessing the site from an expanded tunnel extending to the mountain's rear side. This was classified as a military secret, more or less, so the public wasn't allowed on premises. As a result, we planned for all top-level research to be done in the labyrinth from now on.

It was this large-scale facility on Floor 95 that the two of them guided me to.

We didn't visit one of their private rooms, signifying this was the result of collaborative work with the others. Work on the test unit was going well, apparently, as was the related research, and they even said it'd be done before our rail lines opened up.

I hadn't been down to Floor 95 in a while, and in the meantime, it had transformed into a sort of forest city. In the middle of a beautifully kept park, there was a townscape that seemed to sprout up among the trees. I was impressed at how quickly they set all this up, but was sure we were seeing some elven ingenuity at work. Maybe the treants as well. Either way, it was a lovely space.

Transient labyrinth challengers, of course, couldn't come in here unless they were studly enough to hack 'n' slash in the long way. I personally took advantage of the members-only elf club from time to time but almost never came here during the daytime, so I didn't think it had changed quite this much. I left its development wholly in the hands of Veldora and Ramiris, and I have to say that I liked their work. It offered variety from the rest of the levels, and I'd love to enjoy a leisurely tour sometime.

That was on my mind as I followed them toward a modern research building, made of reinforced concrete and standing out within the park in the middle of the city. There was a large building situated next to it, with one block devoted to accommodations for visiting researchers. I had directed the construction of this building, but now, for some reason, it had this natural, weathered look to it. It struck a really unique presence, and I didn't mind it at all.

"Very charming. I like how it's kind of nestled among the trees."

"Right? Every research lab needs to look like it houses a dragon's hoard of secrets!"

Veldora was patting himself on the back, like a kid who just completed work on his secret treehouse hideout. I have no idea what, or who, gave him such a skewed view of the world.

"Everyone's getting along so well in there these days, y'know, there was talk about formin' a kind of secret society!"

A secret society? What were these people even doing in there?

"Hee-hee-hee! You're the one who blew the lid open on all their research first, aren'tcha, Rimuru? That sure took care of anyone looking to steal people's data and make it their own."

Ah yes, that did happen. There were a lot of walls between nations, and plenty of clashes of opinion between the world's scientists. Most researchers, keeping their homeland's interests in mind, concealed their tech while trying to absorb some from their rivals. I didn't see that as constructive, so I just laid bare everything we knew. The word classified didn't mean anything to Raphael anyway.

So I collated it all into easy-to-grasp instruction manuals for the public and passed out copies, using up all the valuable paper Yuuki procured for me. Maybe a little wasteful, but I felt it was a justified loss. I really wanted to manage our documents with real plant fiber–based paper, not parchment. The stuff Yuuki gave me was apparently from the Empire, and it was almost as good as what I had on Earth. Giving it all away, I thought, demonstrated just how dedicated we were.

Ever since then, researchers had become a lot more frank with one another. Their intellectual curiosities drove them to seek collaboration— finally.

"Right, I collated all the secret info out there into written documents so anyone can browse through them. There were, ah, a few complaints about

that, but I think it's gonna do a lot to advance technology."

"Oh, it will! And it has, Rimuru! There was kind of a big commiseration party after that dropped, and everybody hit it off with one another."

As Ramiris explained, once everyone gave up on concealing their data and started working with others, it created a weird sort of solidarity across the lab. Since then, they had stopped being so obsessed over their home nations. Even the overcomer vampires were treated as friends and equals now. It was really fascinating to see, and I liked seeing it.

It was great—but what came after was the problem. The researchers were now their own little community, with Veldora and Ramiris at the top, and thanks to that, the community was now an organized group. A mysterious environment where everyone could research whatever they wanted to their heart's content. A system exactly like the evil little secret society we had going. Ramiris, boundlessly fascinated by all this stuff, was now the mascotslash-head-cheerleader of them all. Veldora, meanwhile, was positioned more like a mafia boss.

At first, I grumbled about it—I turn my eyes away for a moment, and this happens. But then it dawned on me that if I had been around, it probably would've happened even faster.

Wait. Nuh-uh. It wouldn't; I swear.

"So anyway, here's how we've arranged the externals of it."

"What do you think? Cool, eh? Like a villain's secret hideout?"

Oh, god, it was a secret hideout. A lot of Veldora's knowledge was based off things regenerated from my memories, particularly manga and the like, so no wonder I could identify this at a glance.

"Look at you guys, having all this fun without me…"

"Kwah-ha-ha-ha! Let me assure you, we are only getting started. We'll likely need to tap into your intellect shortly, you see."

"That's right, Rimuru! You're always constantly surprising us, so now it's our turn. So let's show you what we've been working on, and then I wanna hear your feedback!"

Veldora laughed at my (completely honest) complaint; Ramiris provided me at least a little sympathy. If they were touting it up that much, I couldn't pout like usual. Regrouping, I stepped into the lab.