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

by Fuse

  “Why are you being cruel, too, Rimuru…? Ugh. Look, it’s about this!”

  He thrust his hands out at me, as if a ta-daa! sound effect should have been playing behind him. He was holding one of the volumes of manga I gave him—the final volume of a long-running series.

  “What about this?” I asked, confused.

  He looked at me, positively indignant. “What do you mean, what about this? The story in here’s completely different from the rest of the series! Were you playing some kind of trick, taking the ending away from me?”

  Ahhhhh! Yes! Now I remember. Yes, it was a trick. I kind of pulled a prank on him, the idea being that I’d give him the rest of the manga if he followed my orders. Kind of like training a pet, really. I had no idea that was the series I left for him.

  So he traveled all the way here just because he wanted to read the ending? In this enclosed space in an alternate dimension? I knew I could summon Unlimited Imprisonment with my ultimate skill Veldora, Lord of the Storm, but I guess he could, too. That’ll learn me, I guess.

  But that didn’t matter. Diablo was already back in town. Might as well make lemonade out of this.

  “All right. Before I give you the real ending, I need you to do me a favor.”

  “Mm? What?”

  “Play with Milim over there for a while. But don’t hurt her.”

  “Milim? Ahhh, yes, my brother’s only daughter. I haven’t met her before, but she’s still just a child, isn’t she? Very well. I am on my way!”

  I didn’t know whether it was the manga or Milim that captured his interest the most, but either way, he agreed. The “my brother’s only daughter” bit captured my interest, but again, everything in due time.

  Milim herself was looking our way, steeled for anything, and Veldora seemed to be capturing her interest. I could see it in the twinkle in her eyes. Hopefully that meant I was safe leaving for now. Which one was stronger anyway? I was kind of interested to see, but if Veldora was stronger than me, I was sure he could buy me enough time.

  There’s just no way I can’t take advantage of this chance—so with my newfound freedom, I wanted to defeat Clayman and settle the score for good.

  So how had things gone while I was occupied with Milim?

  Leaving her and Veldora behind, I turned toward Ranga first, since things seemed the most intense with him.

  “Ranga, you all right?”

  “Ah, Sir Rimuru! I am fine, but I have a little situation here.”

  Something was up? There didn’t seem to be much life to his attacks, and I didn’t think it was because he was losing interest.

  Just as I was about to ask what was up, I picked up on the cause.

  (—lp me. Help me. Help me!!)

  This childlike wailing was leaking out to us, via Thought Communication, from Nine-Head. The White Monkey and Moon Rabbit were merely trying to protect their shivering master, hence why they kept resisting without admitting defeat. Now I see. Let’s help him out.

  “Ranga, hold back the Monkey and the Rabbit. Don’t let them get in my way.”

  “Right.”

  He took the Monkey, while his two star leaders handled the Rabbit, and I walked toward the snarling Nine-Head—this poor young child, controlled by Clayman.

  Report. Analysis indicates a Demon Dominate curse. Remove?

  Yes

  No

  This time, at least, the curse was discovered and removed quickly. Wish I could’ve seen some of that talent when I was dealing with Milim. Ah well.

  The moment I undid the magic, Nine-Head gave a joyous yelp, then settled down to sleep, no doubt exhausted. It was as cute as any baby-animal video I had ever seen; apart from the three tails and the golden color to its fur, it looked exactly like a little fox cub. Ranga was right next to me, growling as menacingly as he could, and—all right, that was pretty cute, too. In a cool way.

  “Keep this cub safe.”

  “Yes, my master.”

  I gave the cub over to Ranga as I petted him. That took care of his foe.

  Next, I turned to Beretta, and that confrontation was already over. It was lining up all the Unique weapons and armor on the floor, practically beside itself with excitement.

  “Hey! Heyyyy! What’re you doing?!”

  “Oh yes, hello, Sir Rimuru!” It gave me a joyful salute. “It is a pity I could not show myself in action to you, but I have prepared some spoils of war for you.”

  Spoils…?

  Viola, Clayman’s greatest work of art, had been taken apart, its pieces strewn all over the place, and now this was Beretta’s gift to me. I knew it was pretty strong, but it took down that arsenal-like magic-born without suffering a scratch…?

  And that wasn’t even all.

  “Uh, Beretta, no offense, but are you imitating all of Ramiris’s bad habits or what?”

  “Huh…?!”

  It looked at me—surprised, I think. Its face was hidden behind that mask, so that was only my impression. I thought a word of advice was in order. If this keeps up, Beretta’s going to pick up on nothing but her negative traits.

  “I mean, hopefully this is just my imagination, but what are you going to do with all that booty?”

  “Well, this… I thought I would present it to you, Sir Rimuru…and I thought you would accept it and, in exchange, provide a place for Lady Ramiris and me to live.”

  Um? A place to live…? I knew Ramiris had an urge to live in our town, but why Beretta?

  “What…made you worry about that?”

  “Actually…”

  Beretta’s explanation floored me—and not in a good way. It sounded like Guy cornered it into choosing a master before allowing him to enter the battle zone. Beretta responded that it would serve Ramiris after helping me out in here—but clever demon that it is, it thought about a way to wiggle out of that. If Ramiris were to move to our town, Beretta would be obliged to follow her—and then it could go through Ramiris to serve me as well; that was its plan.

  It was one of the flimsiest excuses I ever heard, and it was laying this out like supreme gospel. The word demon couldn’t have described him more accurately.

  “Uh… Look, I’m serious, you’re really starting to resemble Ramiris.”

  “It is an honor to hear, although it feels rather little like a compliment.”

  That’s ’cause it’s not! I swear, I take my eyes off you for a second, and you’ve grown incredibly shameless. Kind of neat to see this maturation take place, though.

  “Well, we can save that for later. I’ll have to think about it. I can’t set up something for you guys that easily.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  It seemed happy enough with that. I figured we were good for now.

  That left only Shion to check up on, and that confrontation was right on the cusp of its climax.

  Clayman was panting for breath as he glared at her, a loathsome look on his face. Shion had all but made him admit to her strength.

  It might’ve appeared like they were locked in an intense competition for superiority, but that would be a dreadful mistake. That was because Shion had Ultraspeed Regeneration, that undefeatable X factor, on her side. They were equals in strength, but Shion could keep up the fight for far longer. While they seemed an even match in each exchange of blows, Clayman’s fatigue had begun to stand out while I was fighting Milim.

  Shion probably didn’t need my aid to win this. And now that her advantage was clear to all, Clayman was starting to panic.

  “Is that all you’ve got? You are far too weak to call yourself a demon lord!”

  Wow, Shion. No mercy, huh? She was totally dissing Clayman.

  “You—you—you’ll pay for that! Come to me, Marionette Dance!!”

  The demon lord unleashed five puppets, each transforming into a magic-born that lunged at Shion. Each one was high in level, formed from a soul Clayman had put in a doll for deployment at any time. It was part of his hidden arsenal, I suppose—now was no time for him to ho
ld back, no doubt, so he was busting out everything he had.

  This was more than enough firepower to take out your average magic-born. But with that massive sword she loved so much, she mowed down all five with a single swipe.

  “Pathetic,” she said, not a hint of fatigue on her face. “You never were anything special, were you?” She had been fighting and fighting, and there wasn’t a scratch on her. She was starting to look and act more like a demon lord now.

  Clayman, meanwhile, was visibly quivering. “Don’t—don’t give me that, you!” he shouted out of humiliation. “It’s too early to boast of your victory yet! My Marionette Dance will recover itself in moments, striking at you again. The real show begins now!”

  He probably wasn’t making that up out of spite. They really could do that. Shion waited for them, a thoughtful look on her face—but the dolls showed no sign of getting back up. There was a good reason for that.

  Panic crossed Clayman’s face again. “N-no,” he whispered. “Why aren’t they reviving?”

  I could understand the shock of having your beloved tools of battle fail you like this. I decided to provide a little color commentary.

  “Hmm, how about I just reveal it to you? Shion’s greatsword is a type called a Soul Eater. Those puppets didn’t have any physical and spiritual defensive spells applied to them, right? You cheaped out on creating them, so she broke them in one hit.”

  That much wasn’t worth keeping under wraps to me. Clayman was going to be my prey anyway; if he wanted to know, then let him know.

  “A, a sword with spirit-based attacks?!”

  “It’s not that rare. There’s a human with one out there, y’know.”

  “N-no! That’s one of the least common traits, even with Uniques!”

  “Ohhh? Well, what’s it matter? One of my friends forged it for us.”

  Shion’s sword was a modified blade created using Hinata’s as a reference. It had the power to attack the spiritual body itself—not literally eat souls or anything but deal damage to spirit-based life-forms. There were no restrictions like that “seven hits” thing with Hinata; depending on the force applied, it could kill instantly unless successfully resisted. It wasn’t guaranteed to kill all the time, but Shion wasn’t exactly a delicate fighter, so it didn’t matter. Since it dealt both spiritual and physical damage, she didn’t need seven hits to finish foes anyway.

  “Oh, I see. So this is Goriki-maru Version 2!”

  She didn’t know…? I, um, I’m pretty sure we went over all this when I gave it to her? Ah, whatever. Shion was never one to sweat the small stuff, so setting her up with this was the right idea.

  “Heh…heh-heh-heh. I see. It was the power of that sword that allowed you to fight against me. Then allow me to add that dirty little blade to my collection! Take this—Demon Marionette!!”

  Sounds like Clayman had misread her.

  The ominous strings of black light that streamed from both his hands wrapped themselves completely around Shion’s body. She didn’t move. Kinda wish she tried to dodge it or, you know, something, but I guess she didn’t need to.

  Clayman, assuming Shion didn’t react in time, found this much to his liking. “Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh… Behold, the ultimate cursing magic, with the power to rule over demon lords themselves! It seems a waste to squander it on magic-born like you, but so be it. I have some slots to fill in my five fingers, and you would be wonderful to take under my wing.”

  He totally had the wrong idea—if that’s what he was saying, poor guy. It wasn’t that Shion couldn’t move—she just didn’t move. Despite all of Clayman’s lofty words, he was probably freaking out over why it wasn’t working at all.

  Complete Memory, one of Shion’s skills, was the power to record memories into her astral body. In layman’s terms, it let her retain her memories even if her brain was destroyed. Combine a conscious soul with a set of memories, and you could regenerate the physical body even if it was vaporized. This made Shion into a special sort of race—call her a demi-spiritual life-form if you want—but essentially, it allowed her to think with her soul, and that meant any effect that tried to take over her spirit was neutralized. Against Shion, no mind-takeover curses could ever work.

  “Hey,” an annoyed-sounding Shion called out from within her cocoon of black string, “what are you trying to do with this? It’s not hurting me at all, but should I wait a little longer?”

  You know—and this has been something I’ve been thinking for a while now, but—I really wish she’d stop acting like this was a pro-wrestling bout. This was supposed to be a duel to the death. Why was she deliberately letting herself get hit by her enemy’s moves? Shion, Sufia…and Milim, too. I just didn’t understand how these war-loving freaks thought sometimes. Gimme a break.

  Raphael confirmed to me that Shion wasn’t being affected at all, though. There wasn’t any need to even beware of Clayman’s secret techniques.

  “That—that’s ridiculous… My Demon Marionette doesn’t work? It has to! This cannot even be possible! It’s the ultimate in demon domination! It can exact its rule over demon lords!”

  It had ruled over Nine-Head a moment ago. Certainly, you could take over the mind of a calamity-level monster with it easily enough. But would it work on the disaster-class demon lords? I think Clayman overestimated his own strength.

  Apparently sick of waiting any longer, Shion used his aura to rip her cocoon apart. “So ridiculous,” she scornfully muttered. “Relying on such cheap tricks as this… You don’t deserve your title at all.”

  Clayman just stood there, finally succumbing to the panic.

  …Or not. What Shion said must’ve flipped a switch somewhere inside of him.

  “Heh-heh-heh… Ha-ha-ha-ha-haaaaaaa!! I don’t deserve my title? You’ll regret saying that, you maggot! Yes, you’ll regret extracting my full strength from me!”

  His shoulders were shaking as he shrieked with laughter. Off went his fancy-looking suit jacket and shirt, leaving him topless. It also left assorted other items he had hidden on his body to clank against the floor, no longer of use to him. I had thought this was over, but Clayman still had something left to rely on.

  Suddenly, two pairs of arms grew out from his uncovered back—long, thin, and protected by a black exoskeleton. This was his true character. Not the dolled-up form from before, but this form that evoked wild, crazed insanity.

  “But yes… Yes, you’re right. A demon lord… I am a demon lord. I focused on ease and elegance in the way I go about matters, dispatching my foes with style. But enough of that. It doesn’t matter. I had forgotten about how this feels, for so long…and now I’m going to crush you in my hands!!”

  The true nature of his rage came to the surface. All he had on him was something he kept preciously protected in his hand. A mask. A jester’s mask, decorated with a smile. Without a moment’s pause, he put it on.

  “Hoh? Looks like you’ve grown worthier,” a happy-sounding Shion said. “I’m glad to see that. I am Shion, secretary and personal guard to the demon lord Rimuru, and I will be happy to fight you!”

  “And I am the demon lord…no, the ‘Crazed Clown’ Clayman. You are dead, Shion the magic-born!”

  The introductions were made. The two moved at the same moment.

  Clayman, in his “real” form, was a powerhouse, laying out the full extent of his demon lord–worthy magical force against Shion. His normal arms wielded those ominous black beams of light. The upper arms from his back wielded an ax and a hammer; the lower ones, a sword and shield.

  Dealing with both magical and melee attacks at once baffled Shion for a moment. But she was stronger. Swinging the sword she called Goriki-maru Version 2, she clanged the sword out of his hand and crushed his shield. A simple, tactless roundhouse slash from above smashed through the ax and hammer Clayman crossed in front of him.

  That freakish force came courtesy of Shion’s intrinsic skill Ogre Berserker, and her frenzy of weapon breaking was the work of Guarantee Results
and Optimal Action, both part of her Master Chef unique skill. In other words, Clayman was still no match for her. Even with all his might, she was just pummeling him.

  Now he was crossing his two pairs of steellike arms to block Shion’s fists—but they, too, were smashed to ribbons. Her next punch landed squarely in the pit of his stomach.

  “Orrgghhh…”

  He fell in agony, foaming at the mouth. There it is. The end.

  Not that it’s for me to say, but Shion really had gotten overwhelmingly stronger. Dying and getting resurrected like that gave her power on a scale like nothing she ever had before.

  “Gerrhhaaahh?!!”

  She planted a follow-up kick on him, making him roll around on the ground in agony. The mask was cracked now, revealing bloodshot eyes.

  “N… N-no… This can’t be. How could…could I…I, a demon lord, Clayman…?!”

  Now Clayman understood the difference in power. But he still refused to accept this reality. It was devastating to him.

  “May I put him out of his misery, Sir Rimuru?”

  Hmm. There were a few things I could ask him, but I could predict most of the answers. Beyond that, I wanted to know about whose bidding he was doing, but was he gonna be honest with that?

  “D-dammit all!! Milim! What is Milim doing?! Destroy that magic-born at once—”

  Clayman was screaming out the words now, realizing that his death was near. But Veldora was holding Milim back. Clayman looked at him with disbelief.

  “Wh-who…? What—what is this? His power is off the charts…!”

  He must’ve just realized that Veldora wasn’t just another magic-born.

  “Well, he’s in human form right now, but that’s Veldora. I told you, remember? He’s my friend.”

  This silenced Clayman. I’m sure he wanted to deny it, but seeing him spar evenly with Milim forced him to admit it. The two had been fighting for a while now, and it was turning into quite the fireworks show. Skill names flew back and forth, many of which I think I remembered hearing before, and Milim had an honest look of surprise on her face.