That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime, Vol. 5

by Fuse

  “…Yes. I saw it all for myself.”

  Phobio, the Black Leopard Fang, had stayed close to Carillon’s side for the entire battle against Milim. And the result?

  “Lord Carillon and Milim collided right into each other…and the demon lord Milim proved all too superior. The Beast Kingdom is…I am sad to say…no more.”

  Dang.

  I had trouble forming a response. Benimaru gasped as well; apparently, this was news to him.

  Phobio was himself gravely injured but still managed to take a Warp Portal over and regroup with Alvis. Gabil’s potions saved his life after that.

  The Three Lycanthropeers were silent, Sufia the Snowy Tigerclaw gritting her teeth.

  “However,” Phobio continued, “after an unbelievably massive explosion, it was none other than the demon lord Frey who delivered the blow that defeated our lord. The very idea of demon lords working together… I could hardly even imagine. I always believed that Milim had a distaste for such schemes. And, looking back, something else about it struck me as odd…”

  So Milim and Frey had joined forces to defeat Carillon. I found that pretty damn odd, too. Milim promised him a one-on-one grudge match, and she didn’t strike me as the kind of demon lord to pull a mean trick like taking along a ringer. Frey, according to Phobio, met eyes with him for just a passing moment. It happened so fast—Frey flying off with Carillon’s body as if nothing was amiss—that he decided it was just his mind playing tricks on him.

  “But,” he went on, “the demon lord Frey has the best eyesight out of all her kind. They say she can shoot down small animals on the ground from the loftiest of heights. I may have been hidden, but there was no way she could miss me. And something else concerns me about her behavior…”

  Apparently, Sufia reported, the direction Frey flew off to was all wrong. A perfect 180 degrees from her own domain, in fact, and a fair distance off from Milim’s lands.

  “Her bearing would have taken her straight for the demon lord Clayman’s domain.”

  The other two Lycanthropeers shuddered.

  “I—I need to go out for a moment.”

  Alvis stepped up to stop him. “Wait right there, Sufia!”

  “Yes! If you’re going, then we all need to join forces in our attack.”

  Hoo boy. That’s not gonna work. Beastlings like these have a one-track mind, and they’re so easily riled into fury. Even Alvis, who seemed like the most levelheaded of the crew, was no exception.

  “Well, hang on,” I ventured. “We need more information before anything else. The way you put it, Phobio, Carillon is still alive. I don’t know what Frey is like as a person, but there’s no way Milim would let someone just horn in on her fight without getting damn angry about it. There has to be more behind this.”

  “I feel the same way,” Benimaru said.

  “Right. So listen: We all want to help you rescue your lord. So don’t go berserk on me right now, all right? If we don’t work together on this, you might wind up destroying whatever chance you’ve got. Worst-case scenario, you’ll have to fend off three demon lords at the same time. So don’t jump right in yet, okay?”

  “Understood.”

  “All right…”

  “Yes, Sir Rimuru.”

  They all nodded, regaining their composure.

  We then decided to let them rest and recuperate for a bit. Them, and the other ten thousand or so people who evacuated to town with them, all utterly exhausted. Trekking all the way to Clayman’s domain and challenging him to battle right now was absurd.

  In a short time, we had emergency stations handing out food, and the great meeting hall had lodgings hastily prepared to deal with the influx. We weren’t at full strength yet; my people were only just beginning to wake back up. For today, at least, we decided to kick back and relax with a meal together.

  Surrounded by the pleasant smell of the emergency kitchens, we awaited Shion’s cooking with a sense of impending terror.

  “So, um, good luck at dinner, okay, Benimaru?”

  “Wait just a minute! We should be eating her food together, shouldn’t we?! She’s trying her best! Maybe it’ll actually be good, by some miracle! Just promise me you won’t leave me alone!”

  “L-let go of me! Miracles don’t occur that often!”

  I’ve just wrapped up this awesome, awe-inspiring evolution event, and the first thing I do after that is sample Shion’s cuisine? What kind of prank is this?

  In the end, though, the teary-eyed Benimaru was just too pathetic a sight to bear, so I agreed to join him at the dinner table—or more like Shion pushed me to a seat adjacent to him.

  “Hee-hee-hee-hee-hee! I’m sure you’re looking forward to this just as much as Benimaru is, aren’t you, Sir Rimuru?”

  No! Not at all!

  Easy enough for me to think that, really, but near impossible to say it. One look into Shion’s eyes, and I realized—oh crap, there’s nowhere to run.

  Thus, as the people around us celebrated their resurrection and revitalized their spirits with food and drink, we were being treated to a tasting session straight from the deepest pit of hell.

  A few more moments and the lethal weapon that was Shion’s cooking was locked and loaded on plates. She beamed as she brought the food (?) in on large platters. The time has come.

  I took a look at one of the steaming plates, and—

  “—Whoaaa! Whoa, whoa, whoa! What’s that stuff?”

  It wasn’t food. I absolutely refused to accept that this was food. There was a bowl with assorted stuff tossed into it. A stew, maybe? Was that her intention? Wait—no, right, this wasn’t food. Never. There shouldn’t be any question about it in the first place.

  “Shion?! Shion, wait a second! There’s something I want to ask you. Do you understand the concept of what ‘cooking’ means?”

  “Of course, Sir Rimuru. What do you think? It looks scrumptious, doesn’t it?”

  “You damned fool! You got carrots, potatoes, peppers, tomatoes, onions, and all kinds of other vegetables—but you just tossed all of them in whole! I shouldn’t be able to recognize every single one of them in the bowl like that, all floating in the broth or whatever! You’re supposed to peel them, or cut them, or do a whole lot of other crap with them!”

  I was shouting, straight from the heart.

  Then I turned to Benimaru. “What is the meaning of this? I thought I left Shion’s care in your hands. She hasn’t learned anything at all from you, has she?”

  He gazed back at me, as glassy-eyed as a dead fish. “I just couldn’t do it. I’ve never had a setback in my life, but with her, I’ve hit a wall—the wall of my personal limits. Since childhood, I always assumed that nothing was impossible for me, but now I see just how shallow-minded that was.”

  How brazen of him. The wall of his personal limits? Bullshit. I’m eating this, too, remember?

  I glanced up at Shion. She was quivering, on the brink of tears. I began to feel like maybe I was the bad guy here… Ah well. Like a monk experiencing enlightenment, it was time for me to brace myself, treat this as training, and have at it.

  “All right, all right. I’ll take it, okay? But at least try to actually prepare your ingredients before putting them in next time.”

  “Umm, but whenever I try chopping up food, I wind up chopping up the rest of the building I’m in, too…”

  “Huh? The whole building? Not just the cutting board?”

  “…Right. My Goriki-maru is so wonderfully sharp, but it’s a little long as well, so…” Shion pointed at the longsword strapped to her back.

  Uh, she cooked with that?

  Benimaru threw his hands in the air, as if in surrender. Talk about someone you can’t rely on in a pinch. My esteem for him was in free fall right now.

  “Listen,” I attempted, “a katana isn’t meant for cooking. All right? That’s what they’ve invented cooking knives for.”

  “No, I work strictly with Goriki-maru. I wouldn’t want to cheat on it wit
h other blades…”

  “Oh. I was planning to give you some kitchen knives as a present actually, but I guess you don’t need them?”

  “Wait! I was wrong! My mistake! Goriki-maru just told me I was allowed to play around with other knives after all!”

  “…Good to hear. So yeah, use those knives to cook from now on, okay?”

  She sure knew a gift horse when she saw one. Ah well. It certainly beats chomping into whole tomatoes in what was supposed to be soup. If he ate nothing but food like this (not that I was acknowledging it as food, mind you), no wonder Benimaru acquired Resist Poison.

  Now it was my turn…but, hell, I was a demon lord now. Ingesting something like this couldn’t kill me, right? So I resigned myself to my fate and went into my human form. Closing my eyes and steeling my resolve, I brought a spoonful of some kind of mystery goop to my mouth.

  Just as I was about to swallow it as quickly as possible, I noticed something odd… Huh? This is, like, super good. Almost like she’s fully re-created Shuna’s home cooking…? You’re kidding me! It tasted nothing like it looked.

  I opened my eyes wide as I slowly, carefully ferried another spoonful of ingredients to my lips.

  This is good!

  Benimaru watched, half praying, his eyes asking Are you all right? to me. I motioned him to give it a shot as well. I guess his experiences with Shion’s food up to now were just as bad as I imagined.

  He dejectedly took a spoonful—then his eyes burst open in surprise. Guess my tongue wasn’t lying to me. I almost thought something got screwed up with my evolution for a moment.

  Shion watched us with the biggest cheese-eating grin I ever saw in my life. It kind of pissed me off, frankly.

  “Shion, what… What is this? Why’s this so much better-tasting than it looks?”

  “Hee-hee-hee! Well—”

  It turns out—and I had no idea about this—that when the moment of evolution arrived, Shion wished deeply in her mind to become good at cooking. It would take a dumbass like her to wish for something like that as her gift. What was she even thinking? It was exasperating, but I supposed it was also supremely Shion-like of her.

  “Hee-hee! So there you have it. I’ve obtained the unique skill Master Chef!”

  Yeesh. What a sight. Earning a unique skill because she wanted to get better in the kitchen… How badly did she wish for that anyway? And the way she described it, the skill let anything she made taste exactly how she pictured it in her mind, no matter what kind of dish it was. No wonder it tasted like Shuna made it—that was exactly what she was aiming for.

  Shion’s efforts, as always, were pointed in the completely wrong direction. And nothing could’ve been purer Shion than that.

  So the rest of the day turned into a wild party, a feast that continued well into the wee hours. There was none of the grim pathos of the past few days. Shion, and everyone else, was back, and their presence brought joy to the town.

  There was Gobzo and Gobta, showing off assorted tricks to their audience. One of them had a knife stuck in his head—wonder how they pulled that off. It looked like it was bleeding, too, but maybe I just imagined it. They were laughing so much that I’m sure there was nothing to be concerned about.

  Yohm was there, too, along with Elen and her bodyguards. He and Gruecith were staggering around, which was still a better showing than the totally passed-out Kabal. But Mjurran was the clear winner of the night. She didn’t act a single bit drunk—an experienced partier, I suppose. Sufia, noticing this, became the latest challenger to fall victim to her in a drinking match as the party descended further into chaos. It was a wild scene, but at least it helped the lycanthropes forget their worries for a while.

  Starting tomorrow, we’d have a lot of cleanup work to do. I’d need to consider what to do with the Beast Kingdom refugees, as well as how we’d rescue Carillon. Plus, there was the Western Holy Church to consider. We’d need to pay careful attention to how they reacted, assuming we wanted to keep on the Western Nations’ good side.

  There was a mountain of issues to deal with, but—for now—I supposed we could have a little fun. And maybe it was just for today, but this was turning into a real fest, I’d say. Japanese people love their festivals, after all. No excuse is too petty to kick one off, no reason too trivial for someone to plan a drinking party for his friends. That’s how we lived around here. No need to keep things tense all the time.

  I should also mention that this party wound up becoming a yearly occurrence in this land. They named it the Tempest Resurrection Festival.

  Deep into the night, while everyone was sleeping off their epic benders, I was pondering over our future direction when an unfamiliar person greeted me.

  “I am glad you are awake, my lord. Allow me to express my heartfelt joy at seeing you become a full-fledged demon lord.”

  The figure bowed deeply before me.

  “Uh, who’re you?”

  “I…?! Surely you jest, my lord. Nothing could damage a demon’s heart more than to hear that…”

  The visitor seemed genuinely insulted. He looked like a pretty high-level demon, but I seriously had no idea who this was.

  Then Ranga poked his head out from my shadow. “Master, this is one of the demons you summoned, using the knights as your bait.”

  Ohhh, right. This dude’s still here.

  “Ahhh, Sir Ranga!”

  The demon turned thankful eyes to Ranga, as if in the audience of a personal savior. And, come to think of it, I did see him during the party, fidgeting and looking supremely out of his element.

  “Well, thanks for all your help. I heard you rounded up the survivor for me, too, so Ranga and I could get back here safely.”

  “Oh, no, I am hardly worthy of your thanks. But along those lines…”

  “Well, sorry to keep you here all this time. You can go back home now.”

  “…What?!”

  That would explain his behavior. He wanted to leave, but I hadn’t gotten around to giving the order. So I did—but this demon was acting all weird about it. He had rather handsome features—really, you’d almost call him beautiful, despite being male and all. And now that face looked bewildered, ready to cry at any moment. It worried me.

  “Oh, um, did I not give you enough of a reward or something?”

  “Nothing of the sort, my lord. As I asked you before, I seek the honor of joining your followers! What do you think? Will you please give it some consideration?”

  Joining my followers? Umm, I think this Greater Demon I summoned said something like that, yeah, but… Wait. This guy in front of me ain’t just “Greater.” We were talking like nothing was amiss, but this wasn’t any kind of Greater Demon at all.

  “Huh? Ranga, did I really summon this dude?”

  “You certainly did, my master!”

  Hmm. All right.

  “Upon receiving the knight corpses you offered as my summoner, I have earned my physical body. I can only hope that I may repay this great favor to you in some way.”

  “Oh really? Well, neat…”

  He did seem kinda strong, and if he wanted to be my follower that badly, then hell yeah. But that was a two-edged sword. If he ever went out of control, I worried that even Benimaru would have trouble stopping him.

  And what about the other two demons with him?

  Understood. When carrying out the Secret Art of Revival, you began to run short on magicule energy. When you did, the two demons rendered themselves into magicule form and disappeared in order to help you earn the energy required.

  …Man. Raphael tossed that bombshell out like it was nothing. He was acting even more coldhearted than the Sage, showing off the kind of stakes he worked with. So the demons helped out with Shion’s resurrection, playing a role of their own behind the scenes? Boy, now I’m sorry I thought for even a moment that they were useless.

  But what now, though? This guy’s aching so badly to help me out that he tossed his demon friends under the bus for me. It’
d just be mean to ignore that.

  “I can’t really give you a salary or anything. You okay with that?”

  “The right to serve you will provide all the joy I need, my lord.”

  Well, hell, if he’s willing to work for free, I like those terms a lot.

  “All right. Well, sounds good to me. As of today, you’re officially one of us.”

  “Ahhhh! I thank you, my lord!”

  “Quit with the ‘my lord’ crap. It’s creepy.”

  “I understand. How shall I refer to you, then?”

  “Rimuru works.”

  “Ahhh, Rimuru—such a sweet tone that name has. Sir Rimuru it shall be, then…”

  Talk about grandiose. I had no idea what about me he found so attractive, but he just couldn’t wait to be my servant.

  “Right, yeah, great. But what’s your name?”

  “Being a nameless demon is more than enough for me, Sir Rimuru.”

  Huh? He looked way too high-level to not have a name. But that’d be too much of a pain in the ass to deal with. Let’s do what I’ve always done, then.

  “Okay. Well, in place of any other reward, I want to give you a name. You got a problem with that?”

  “My word! No, no problem at all. This is the greatest gift a demon could ask for!”

  His well-featured face burst into abject joy. I guess that’s just how I am, huh? There’s something about me that demons find irresistible. I think I had a right to boast about that a bit.

  Right. So, a name. Time to fish into my grab bag of supercar models, maybe? Something that sounds nice and demonic? In fact, why not just throw a fastball straight down the middle with this?

  “Your name is Diablo. May you live up to it in your service to me!”

  And the moment I said it, I felt my energy drain. I was getting pretty used to this by now. It took only about half my magicules this time, too. The pessimistic side of me was expecting more, given how high and mighty this demon looked. Naming Beretta, that Greater Demon, took over 30 percent of my magicules, so he must’ve been greater than Greater after all.