The hexagonal containment chamber was awash in a sterile, blue light, the hum of the null-field a barely audible drone. The air was cold, still, and thick with unspoken threat. Captain Arken stood by the sealed door, a mountain of black ceramite and silent judgment. In the center of the room, Interrogator Kael's question hung like a headsman's axe: "...what is your soul worth?"
It was a classic Inquisitorial blade, a question designed to dissect a psyche, to expose the heresy of pride, the weakness of fear, or the corruption of ambition. A zealot would speak of the Emperor. A daemon would boast or lie. A coward would beg.
Rimuru, sitting calmly on the floor, simply smiled. It was a gentle, thoughtful expression that seemed entirely out of place in the grim calculus of the Ordo Xenos.
"That's a very human question, Interrogator Kael," he began, his voice calm and even. "In my old life, people would measure worth in currency, in status, in achievements. I've learned better since then."
He looked at his own hands, turning them over as if seeing them for the first time. "On its own, my soul… my spiritual core… is just me. It's the nucleus that anchors my existence. It has no intrinsic worth beyond the fact that it allows me to be."
He looked back up, his golden eyes meeting Kael's piercing gaze without a trace of fear. "Its worth," he continued, "is defined by others. It is measured by the safety of my friends and the happiness of my people. My soul is worth the sound of a bustling city in my nation of Tempest, a city where goblins, orcs, lizardmen, and humans can share a meal in peace. It is worth the brilliant research of my scientists, the laughter of children in the streets, and the unwavering loyalty of the powerful individuals who have chosen to follow me."
Rimuru's smile softened, becoming more personal, more genuine. "So, you see, I cannot tell you what my soul is worth. Only they can. Its value is the sum of the lives I am sworn to protect. If they are secure and thriving, then my soul has fulfilled its purpose. It is a debt I owe them, not an asset I possess."
A profound silence filled the chamber. Captain Arken shifted his weight, the hiss of his Terminator armor's servos the only sound. The answer was so fundamentally alien to the Imperial creed that it was difficult to even process. The Imperium taught that the individual was nothing; the species was all. The individual's soul was a currency to be spent in service to the Emperor. Rimuru's philosophy was a bizarre inversion: the leader's soul derived its value from the well-being of his people, a people comprised of monstrous xenos.
Interrogator Kael's predatory smile had vanished, replaced by an expression of intense, unnerving concentration. He had expected a hundred different answers, but not this. Not a philosophy of selfless service rooted in personal connection to the profane.
"A nation of monsters," Kael mused, his voice a silken whisper. "It is the nature of the beast to be ruled by its base instincts. It is the nature of the tyrant to rule through fear. You describe a paradise of the unnatural. Such things cannot exist. How do you maintain order among such creatures, 'King' Rimuru? By what iron law do you command them?"
"By three simple rules," Rimuru answered without hesitation. "One: Do not attack humans. Two: Do not fight amongst yourselves. Three: Do not look down on other races. That's the foundation of our entire society."
"And dissent?" Kael pressed, his eyes narrowing, searching for the crack in the facade. "What is the fate of those who break your simple, idealistic rules? What is the price of treason in this monstrous paradise of yours?"
Here, Rimuru's kind expression was tinged with a cold, hard clarity that made the Interrogator pause. "We are not naive, Interrogator. Peace is not a passive state; it is an achievement that must be defended. If someone threatens the harmony of my nation or the lives of its citizens, we deal with it. I deal with it. Swiftly, decisively, and permanently. There is no room for malice in the country we have built."
The Inquisitor saw it then. Beneath the layers of politeness and benevolent philosophy was a core of absolute, unshakable resolve. This being was not a naive idealist. He was a protector, and like all true protectors in this unforgiving galaxy, he was utterly ruthless when crossed.
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Kael began to pace slowly, his dark robes whispering against the floor. "Your philosophy is a fascinating heresy. Your power, according to the Librarian, is a physical reality that defies classification. Words can be deceptions. Power cannot."
He stopped and turned, his expression now that of a scientist preparing an experiment. "You have answered my questions with a consistency that is… compelling. But the Ordo Xenos does not deal in philosophy. We deal in empirical, often painful, truth."
The Interrogator gave a slight nod to Captain Arken. "Your cooperation has been noted, Rimuru Tempest. However, your debriefing is not yet complete. We have prepared a more practical examination of your capabilities."
Kael walked towards the door, his calm demeanor more menacing than any overt threat.
"We are curious to see how a self-proclaimed 'King of Monsters' fares against some of the other horrors this galaxy has to offer. We have a… varied collection here at Watch Station Vigil. It would be a shame not to put it to good use."
The heavy door irised open. Kael paused on the threshold, looking back at Rimuru one last time.
"Prepare yourself, Asset. Your true interrogation is about to begin."