That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime, Vol. 6

by Fuse

  On Milim’s hand, however, was something new. Not a ring—a brass knuckle covering her four fingers. It was something far too boorish for most young women, but on Milim, it couldn’t have been more perfect. It had a relief of a dragon carved into it, half aglow in magical aura, and it fit snugly in her clenched little hand.

  “Mmmm, maybe a little too hot, though?” she said as she fanned her face with one hand. It was obvious what she was doing. She never gave a crap about the weather.

  “Oh, Milim. Haven’t seen you in a while. You look like you’re doing well. Did something nice happen to you?”

  Frey had to take the bait. Otherwise, she’d have to put up with this act for the next hour.

  “Ooh, you could tell? Well, just look at this!”

  She thrust her Dragon Knuckle–equipped hand in front of Frey’s face, giving her a proud little eh-hem!

  Frey glumly sighed. “Oh, wow,” she said, giving Milim what she thought the girl wanted. “It looks great on you. Where’d it come from?”

  “Oh, you wanna know?” came the bashful reply. “Oooh, I dunno if I can tell you or not… Hmm, ohhh, what should I doooo?”

  This I’m-the-best act was grating on Frey. Despite all the years they had known each other, it still rankled her.

  “Well, aren’t we friends, Milim? It’s all right to tell me, isn’t it?”

  Milim’s eyes sparkled. “Ooh! Oh yeah, we sure are friends, huh?! Okay, I’ll tell you! To tell the truth—”

  Now that Milim finally had the invitation she wanted, she burst into a long story about the town of monsters she visited. The self-aggrandizing tale went on for a while, accompanied by several wardrobe changes from the new clothes she picked up there. It gave Frey some pause. Milim loved carrying on about herself all the time, but rarely to this level.

  Once the conversation died down a little, Frey realized that now was the time to do the favor she promised Clayman.

  “Oh, right. You know, Milim, I actually have a present for you, too. From friend to friend. Would you like to see it?”

  She signaled to her attendants. They quickly brought over a tray bearing a beautiful, shining pendant, perched on top of purple satin cloth. An orb had been installed on the pendant, a jewel that even someone who knew nothing about precious stones could tell was worth a fabulous amount of money.

  “Mm? A pendant, huh? Can I have it? But that doesn’t mean you can have my knuckle, okay?”

  Frey chuckled. “That’s fine, Milim. Consider it a symbol of our friendship. And as a friend, I hope you won’t be too shy to wear it around.”

  Milim gave a bright nod to Frey’s soft smile. “You got it!” she chirped as she attached it to her clothing.

  Forbidden magic: Demon Marionette launching… Activated.

  At that instant, the expression on Milim’s face changed. Her eyes glazed over; the light of consciousness faded away from them. With the magic in the pendant released, a forbidden spell wormed its way into her.

  This jewel was the Orb of Domination provided by Clayman to Frey—and having Milim put it on was the promised favor Clayman asked of her.

  So there’s my promise. That takes care of my duty, but what will Milim do…?

  Frey observed the girl. She stood there motionless, face a total blank. Then, for just a single moment, she felt like Milim’s blue eyes looked at her.

  There, at that moment, Milim knew something weird was happening. Maybe… Yes. Indeed. I suppose it is, Milim…

  The Dragon Knuckle fell out of her fingers, clunking on the ground. Frey looked at her and sighed.

  “I’m done, Clayman,” she called out to an empty corner of the room. “Are you happy?”

  “I am,” the Marionette Master replied, emerging from the corner. “Well done, Frey. Now I’ve obtained the strongest puppet there is! Ha-ha-ha-ha! This is what she gets for picking on me, calling me a young upstart. Pathetic, isn’t it, Milim?!”

  He punched her as he laughed his nasal laugh. Her face reddened, a cut appearing on her lips. The multiple layers of Barrier protecting her were gone, meaning that even she could be hurt now—especially if it was a demon lord like Clayman doing the hurting.

  “Shouldn’t you stop that?” Frey coldly commented as the half-giggling Clayman prepared to land another blow. It wasn’t a pretty sight to see, and besides—

  “Pfft! This isn’t the sort of weak curse that’ll undo itself after a punch or two. This is forbidden magic. It includes all the magic force I can muster from my body. Don’t you resent her at all, after the way she acted around all of us? That’s why you joined me on this plan, is it not?”

  “It’s not. I just fulfilled my promise to you.”

  “No need to lie to her face like that, you know. This girl is nothing more than a doll to us now. A pointlessly sturdily made doll, I should add. We can just fix her before she falls completely apart.”

  The veins were visible in his eyes as he kicked Milim away, Frey coldly watching the whole time. Such an impertinent man. This is how you really are…?

  It was at that moment when Frey abandoned Clayman for good. Thus, she decided to act on her own instincts for a change.

  “Listen, Clayman. Maybe you don’t know, but Milim comes with a self-defense mechanism, all right? The way she described it, at least, it’s called Stampede, and it puts her in an uncontrollable state. You’re free to trigger that and die if you like, but try not to take me with you.”

  The words were enough to restore Clayman’s composure. He resentfully groaned. “Psh. What a bastard of a demon lord this is. Very well. Using her should give my words a little more presence among us all. And you, Frey; you’re a coconspirator as well. I’ll expect you to work for me.”

  “Oh? I thought we were equals.”

  “Fool! I’m the one who came up with this plan. You’re already one of my pawns. Or would you like to engage Milim in battle?”

  “…Are you threatening me?”

  “Ha-ha-ha-ha! You can take that any way you like. But if you don’t want to die, I’d suggest not angering me.”

  It was classic Clayman—sometimes offering the carrot, other times the stick, but always with a heaping helping of arrogance. And it’s true; this was Clayman’s plan all along. That, and it was his hint to Frey that Milim had a weakness for the word friend. How he managed to learn that little tidbit, she didn’t know, but all Frey did was keep her promise—although she only did so because of one she firmly believed in.

  “…All right.”

  “Good. Just don’t think about doing anything to betray me. As long as you listen to my requests a bit, I will personally guarantee your position as ruler of the skies.”

  The escape route was cut off. Now Frey was Clayman’s business associate—a fancy name for his puppet. All of this happened several weeks before the Day of Ruin that visited Tempest.

  ………

  ……

  …

  Thinking it all over again, Frey sighed.

  With Milim under his wing, Clayman was using her overwhelming potential violence as a cudgel to coerce her with. Now Frey was simply following orders, forced to do his bidding.

  She couldn’t help but laugh at how much she deserved this. She felt like such a fool for believing him. But she also had another thought. Clayman was a sly, conniving demon lord, never one to play down, but he also tended to overestimate his own powers. That’s why he never had a perspective on the true essence of things. Frey, luckily, was blessed with exactly those observational skills—not a “skill” like breathing fire, but something she naturally picked up in her relations with other people. The ability to see the kind of truth that someone like Clayman, who treated people as nothing more than useful tools, could never notice.

  So, trusting her instincts, she made a bet. And no matter how it turned out:

  I don’t think you’ll be alive for much longer, Clayman.

  She began going over the procedure to come. The “promise” came to mind once again.
It made her smile.

  The frigid land was encased in howling snow and ice, surrounded by frozen tundra. Temperatures stayed at well below zero degrees Fahrenheit, driving away nearly all life.

  In the middle of it all stood a tall, looming castle, a beautiful, fantastical palace. A demon castle, one materialized from an unimaginable amount of magical force. It was called Icefayr Castle, and it was the domain of the demon lord Guy Crimson.

  A calm, collected man strode along a corridor inside the castle, his hair of platinum blond, eyes long and narrow. Those blue eyes were a prominent feature of his chiseled visage. His skin was fair, practically translucent, and his beauty would almost make some assume he was female.

  This was the demon lord Leon Cromwell, known alternately as either the Platinum Devil or the Platinum Saber, and he stalked the halls of this castle like he owned them.

  Ahead of him was a large door, decorated ornately by a master woodsmith. It led to the audience chamber where the master of this domain awaited. Leon was here to see Guy Crimson, and as he stood before the door, two large, heavy magic-born grunted and strained to open it up.

  “The demon lord Leon Cromwell has arrived!”

  A beautiful female magic-born beyond the door shouted Leon’s name as he entered. There, he saw two lines of powerful Greater Demons lining the way ahead on both sides. Each one was a named demon, and each had been granted physical corpuses for use in this world. All of them were powerful beyond the definition of a Greater Demon, easily surpassing what a high-level magic-born could manage. They were also bedecked in a fine array of magical equipment, each having evolved in their own unique ways. They numbered two hundred or more in all, and some were even calamity-class threats, rated Special A on the scale.

  But not even these demons could defy the figures beyond—the sheer overpowering awe exuded by the six demons that surrounded the throne in the chamber’s midpoint, under the watchful eye of Guy Crimson.

  These were named Arch Demons, capable of subduing even calamity-class monsters. If anything, they could be defined as demon lords themselves.

  Amazingly, not even these demon kings were allowed to speak freely in this chamber—for there was a wall, an impregnable force, that none of them could ever conquer.

  The green-haired demon that heralded Leon’s arrival was soon joined by a demon with blue hair that guided him down the aisle. She was gorgeous, the personification of all human desires. Her graceful, wispy arms were hidden in the sleeves of a dark-red maid’s dress.

  The green-haired one was Mizeri, the blue-haired one Raine, and they were the two pillars who stood on both sides of the absolute ruler Guy Crimson, doing the speaking for him. They were both Demon Peers, superpowered creatures that each rated a disaster classification—the equal of a demon lord.

  Now Leon was at the throne. Mizeri and Raine nodded at him, then took their posts beside Guy as the man on the throne stood up. The only people in this room allowed to move a muscle were the two demon lords.

  “It gladdens me to see you, Leon,” he said in a clear voice that carried across the chamber. “Doing well, I hope? I appreciate your answering my invitation.”

  His bloodred eyes had stars of gold and silver dancing in them, and his wavy, burning hair was a deep shade of rouge. He was about as tall as Leon, and while Leon was feminine in his beauty, Guy’s was more prideful and distant. He had an alluring sort of attractiveness, the look of one born to lead—and conquer.

  He walked down the steps from his throne as he greeted Leon, bringing an arm to his chest and embracing him. Then, without hesitation, he placed his hand upon Leon’s face and kissed his lips.

  Leon pushed him away, wincing. “Leave me,” he complained, like he always did. He glared at Guy, looking genuinely peeved. “I am not interested in other men. How many times have I told you?”

  “Ah-ha-ha-ha! Oh, you never were any fun like that,” Guy gleefully replied. “I’d be happy to become a woman for you, if you like. But very well. Let us change locations.”

  He walked off, without waiting for a response. This, too, was how it happened every time.

  Considering the arctic region he lived in, Guy’s clothing was quite unusual. He mostly had his clothes draped over him, revealing a great deal of bare skin. To Guy, who never felt the cold anyway, that was never an issue. He wore a near-mystical smile to complement his bewitching beauty, perhaps recalling the sensation of Leon’s lips against his—and then a snakelike tongue licked his bright-red lips, creating an eerie sort of irresistible allure.

  For Guy, who could adjust his gender at will, men and women were both targets of his sexual appetite. He—or she, depending—was Guy Crimson, demon lord, master of this castle, and the oldest and strongest of demon lords. As the Lord of Darkness, he was the sole and absolute ruler of this blindingly cold continent.

  Guy pressed on ahead, not bothering to guide Leon. Leon followed behind, as if this was normal to him. No one else in the audience chamber moved until they were both gone. It was forbidden. They all bowed their heads to them, waiting for their ruler and his guest to leave.

  Once all were sure they were gone, Mizeri and Raine stood before the rows of demons. And then, a single word from Raine:

  “Disperse.”

  Then the two Demon Peers left, setting off to prepare tea for their guest. They were the highest-ranked among all the demons in this castle, but their sole occupation was to take care of Guy Crimson. This work was prioritized above all else in this domain—and so they quickly set off, not wanting to attract their master’s ire.

  ………

  ……

  …

  Following Guy, Leon stepped into the ice terrace on the highest floor of the castle. Despite being open to the elements, not a single snowflake made its way inside. It was a comfortable, fully air-conditioned environment, and since Guy was wholly unaffected by the temperature around him, he had set this up exclusively for Leon’s sake. He might have been arrogant, but when it came to his friends or those who recognized his authority, he took care of them down to the last detail.

  Musing about how little Guy had changed, Leon gruffly threw himself down in his seat. It was made of ice but didn’t feel cold at all. That didn’t faze him, nor did the way the ice bent pliably under him, providing a soft cushion.

  “So,” he asked, “what did you call me here for?”

  An ice table appeared out of nowhere. Raine lined up two cups of tea on it, as Mizeri soundlessly stood by the terrace entrance. They were not to interfere with their masters’ speech, unable to speak themselves without permission. This was not at all an equal relationship. Until ordered, they could not even allow their emotions to be shown in public. If they ever acted on their own without their master’s orders, they would be provided with nothing but a quick death.

  Even Demon Peers as powerful as them both were mere tools before the demon lord. That was how strong Guy was, and that was why they wouldn’t move even if Leon attacked Guy right there. His rule was absolute, and worrying for his safety was the height of disrespect. Their presences were thus ignored as the conversation continued.

  “Well, as you know, a Walpurgis Council is coming soon. I thought I should implore you to attend, no matter how inconvenient it was.”

  “Oh? Rare of you to force anything upon me like that.”

  “I know. Even if it means I owe you a favor, I want you to participate.”

  “…Why is that?”

  “Ha!” Guy smiled, enjoying this. “Wary as always, I see. Very well. Let me explain. It was Clayman who proposed this one. A little man. But for some reason, Milim’s name was among the cosigners. Milim is one of the oldest demon lords, up there with me. She wouldn’t lift a finger for someone the likes of Clayman. So I believe…”

  “You believe that reports of Carillon’s death might not be entirely true?”

  “Oh, you know, do you?” Guy resented having his thoughts guessed so easily.

  Leon paid it no mind. “Cl
ayman went too far,” he continued. “He tried to harass me without leaving any evidence behind, but I’m not letting it pass this time. Whether Carillon lives or not, if Milim is taking action, that is bad news.”

  Guy gave this a relieved nod. “Hmm. I agree with you. This might be just another game to Milim, but I don’t like to see anyone tipping the balance of power among the demon lords. It just gives me more work.”

  Waiting to make sure Guy was no longer peeved, Leon decided to tackle the question that interested him the most.

  “So, Guy, do you think Milim is being controlled by Clayman?”

  “Thinking about Milim is pointless,” came the blunt reply. “Someone like me is too intelligent to read the behavior of a moron. That is one of my very few weaknesses.” He shrugged and gave Leon a broad grin, then went back to his first question. “But if you worry about it that much, Leon, should I assume you will be participating?”

  Leon could tell that dancing around each other like this would lead them nowhere. “Yes, I intend to. I hate working with others, but this time, I suppose I have no choice.”

  “Oh? Well, very good. Before then, I was hoping we could embrace each other in bed later this evening—”

  “I have no interest in men. Or in women, unless they strike my fancy. Besides, what benefit would embracing you, as you put it, have for me?”

  “You don’t have to start with that. If you wish, I would happily take on a woman’s body for you…”

  Guy slithered in for a hug. Leon, seeing it a mile away, dodged it beautifully. One saw this little exchange between them on regular occasions.

  “By the way,” he said after it was clear Leon wasn’t putting up with it, “it’s rather rare for Ramiris to provide feedback to us one way or the other, but do you know anything about this ‘Rimuru’ person?”

  This was another topic of the next Walpurgis, something everyone had an interest in since it’d mark the first new demon lord after Leon.