That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime, Vol. 3

by Fuse

  “Based on circumstantial evidence, we believe it is quite likely to be the truth.”

  “Any suggestions on how to deal with it?”

  “Our only option is to ascertain which direction their armies are going and enact swift evacuation measures—”

  “You want me to abandon this town?”

  “If you believe you have a chance at victory for yourself, then we will not stop you from pursuing that. But if you ask us to participate in the effort, then I’m afraid we cannot accept that without hearing some concrete operational plans.”

  “…All right,” Nidol whispered, head hung down. “You know there’d be no chance anyway.”

  “In that case, I will leave the expeditionary force deployment in your hands.”

  With that final reminder, Franz quickly left the room.

  The Earl of Migam thought for a moment.

  Whether the town would have to be abandoned or not, he had to consider the worst-case scenario. Which meant his knights had to stay put. But they needed that expedition to take place.

  What should I do?

  It was like all his neglect and mismanagement was coming back to him like a roaring tidal wave. But was there no point complaining about it.

  After pondering a few moments, Nidol came up with what he thought was an excellent idea. All he really needed was intelligence on the threat. Perhaps he could deploy a magician versed in teleportation magic, one who could return to town the moment he was finished with his investigation. This sorcerer’s escort team wouldn’t know about their own mission; all they had to do was protect him until they reached the forest. And if he just cobbled together a few of the expendable knights to build this expedition, he should be able to keep the salaries he paid to a minimum.

  And if they did manage to come back alive, he could deal with it then. The vital thing was to figure out where the orc lord was going.

  The group that Earl Nidol Migam put together in response to this was called the Frontier Expedition Force. It was composed of thirty members.

  Inside town was a correctional facility that housed Migam’s petty criminals—villagers who went into debt and attempted to rob travelers from out of town; rowdies brought into custody for picking fights on the streets. They were usually put to work assisting the knight corps, at times even serving as opponents for the knights’ combat drills as part of their “corrections.” One of these inmates was appointed the leader of the expedition force.

  Nidol wouldn’t lose a minute’s worth of sleep over their deaths. They were light on his finances, too, as an added bonus.

  That was about all the thought Nidol put into their selection. But the group did not share the earl’s motives.

  “Pfft. That greedy old coot. If it’s freedom he’s giving us, let’s accept it with good cheer, eh?”

  Such were the feelings of Yohm, the man assigned to lead the thirty miscreants of the Frontier Expedition Force as a coherent unit. His skin was darkly tanned and supple, stretched tightly over his muscles. He was not notably tall, but facing him would still intimidate the casual observer into fearing for his safety. Often, that was all Yohm needed to win the mental battle. This was backed up by his face, which wasn’t unattractive, but his guttural, sneering smile made him difficult for anyone to dare approach.

  His talents would seem to indicate a quick promotion from street tough to the boss of one alley gang or another. Instead, Yohm was now leading a force of thirty deep into the Forest of Jura.

  It had been a week since they replenished their supplies at the last village bordering the forest. Rommel, magician and the earl’s protégé, could feel himself wither around Yohm, as if he had been placed in front of a ferocious man-eating tiger. He could almost feel his knees knocking.

  “So what kind of expedition’re we on?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t tell you. It is a secret mission.”

  “Oh-hohh? What kinda nonsense is that yer spoutin’, eh? I think you better tell me while I’m still askin’ nicely, know what I mean?”

  “I’m telling the truth! They haven’t given me any details either, believe me.”

  “Hmm! I see, I see. Well, fine. They used contractual magic on us to make us follow your orders, but once this is done, we’ve all been promised our freedom. Right?”

  “Yes, precisely. The contract that was signed with my client, the Earl of Migam, said exactly that.”

  “Yeah, and I’m tellin’ ya, man, that’s BS! How the hell’re we supposed to finish this mission if we don’t even know what it is, huh? Bumpin’ around in the middle of this evil forest… You screwed in the head, or what?”

  Facing the full brunt of Yohm’s anger made Rommel feel like he’d faint from fear. He understood that his explanation made little sense, but no way could he give them the truth. If he did, he’d find it perfectly logical if they killed him where he stood.

  “L-listen, we… We received a report from the Free Guild that something strange is happening in the forest. So like I told you, our mission is to use this image-capturing magitool to record what’s going on, then bring it back to town—”

  “Oh-hohh! So you wanna die, huh? Now I get it. Or do you think some sorcerer off the street like you can take on a pack of natural-born fighters? You don’t believe that contract means you get the right to treat us like crap ’cause we can’t do anything, do ya?”

  Rommel’s heart was struck with the distinct sense that this man was serious. The contractual magic meant that he had to follow Rommel’s orders, but now he was starting to wonder how well that stuff even worked.

  “Ah, ahh…”

  He took a fearful step back, only to suddenly feel something cold upon his neck.

  “’Ey, boss, wouldn’t it be quicker to just kill ’im?”

  A man dressed in black appeared, as if oozing out from the darkness. He held a knife, completely black in color, and it was now squarely against Rommel’s jugular.

  “Not so fast. I wasn’t planning to, if he was willing to talk, but—”

  “No! No, wait! I’ll tell you everything! Just don’t kill me…”

  “Oh yeah? You willing to admit that we’re here to investigate that orc lord yet?”

  “Huh?! How did you know that?!”

  “Ha! What, you think I’m an infant or somethin’? I got thirty people here—you thought I didn’t have any guild insiders I could swap someone out for? I left you alive so you could undo that contract on us, that’s all. So… What happens next is up to you, I guess. What’ll it be?”

  Rommel, without hesitation, decided to release the contractual magic. He clearly didn’t have long to live right now, and Yohm’s tone of voice indicated that it was best not to defy him too much. Terror gripped Rommel’s heart to the point that he was willing to do anything Yohm told him.

  “Good thing we got a guy here who listens to reason, huh, bro? Forget about being used and abused to death! Now we finally got some real freedom!”

  “So what’re we gonna do with him?”

  “Please! Spare me my life, at least!”

  Rommel’s voice was shaky, his face wet with tears, as Yohm’s men approached him.

  “Well, hang on, now. I’m sure he’s at least got Life Search cast on him. We can’t let this magician die without being able to report his mission results.”

  “Okay, so…what? If you’re sayin’ we gotta keep watch on ’im all hours of the day, I’d rather just kill the man.”

  Rommel barely felt alive as he listened to Yohm argue with his crew.

  “Yeah, yeah, hang on. He’s a sorcerer, remember? Maybe he’ll be able to do a thing or two for us, eh?”

  “Yes! Yes, I will! Anything!!”

  “Yep, you hear that? ’Sides, he did free us from that contract and all. I wouldn’t feel all that right about killing ’im, but whaddaya think?”

  “Well, still…”

  “I won’t tell anyone! I swear I won’t tell anyone, believe me! Please!”

  Being emplo
yed by nobility ever since he graduated from his magic academy, Rommel was not exactly worldly-wise. Yohm never intended to kill him; he just wanted to put him to work. Rommel was too naive to see through that. All he could do was beg Yohm for any type of help he could offer.

  “Hey, how ’bout this, boss? Jagi’s a mysticist; maybe he could conjure up a spell to put ’im under our thrall?”

  “Dahh, no way! At my level, Rommel’s gonna Resist it for sure.”

  “I won’t! I promise I won’t put up any resistance! Please, do it!”

  “Great. Anyone got any objection to that? ’Cause personally, I wouldn’t mind having him around as our adviser, sort of thing.”

  “We’ll do whatever you say, boss!”

  “If that’s what you want, bro, I ain’t got no complaints.”

  Yohm’s men said their lines, exactly like they worked it out beforehand. Rommel completely fell for it, accepting the mystic binding spell in an effort to make Yohm believe in him. The ruse fell apart immediately afterward when they all started laughing at him, but for the sorcerer, it was a moot point.

  A moot point, but Rommel still had no issue with it. This street punk, Yohm, exuded a sort of evil magnetism that was hard to put into words. One that could make any innocent, open-minded young man lose his footing along the way.

  This was the beginning of a truly free Frontier Expedition Force—one free of the Earl of Migam’s leash and one sporting a sorcerer who would meekly follow Yohm wherever he went.

  Around the time when Rimuru first encountered Benimaru and his clan—back when they were still merely ogres—Fuze was sighing as loudly as he could at the three adventurers in front of him. He had sent this trio to figure out what was happening in the Forest of Jura, and the moment they got back, they began telling him the most astounding of tall tales.

  They were Kabal, Elen, and Gido—three talented guild members, all worthy of Fuze’s trust. Their ranks were all B, and Fuze knew they were more than up to the challenge that letter came with.

  The first story they had for him was about their final moments with Shizue Izawa—a woman Fuze, as well, felt he owed his life to.

  “…And that’s how she summoned Ifrit, only to get swallowed up by the raging beast!”

  “She probably traveled out of town because she knew that would happen… I think she realized she didn’t have much time left.”

  “You said it. And who knows if she ever recovered… My guess is that she would’ve been a lot happier with just lying down ’n’ dying in her sleep.”

  Shizu had been ordered by Heinz, Fuze’s father, to accompany them on the expedition. She was a hero in Fuze’s eyes, as well as a friend he had hunted monsters with, and he was willing to do anything for her. If anything, giving her the ending she wanted filled him with happiness.

  After the expedition was over, Shizu said she intended to travel to the demon lord’s territory. She had some unfinished business there, apparently, and she insisted upon attending to it. Fuze knew there was no convincing her otherwise. So he decided to help her from behind the scenes, pairing her with three adventurers he planned to send into the forest.

  A pity, then, that they weren’t with her to the very end. Fuze had no right to criticize them for that. Their mission came first, and Fuze himself had kept her true nature a secret from them.

  But did they really have to leave her under the care of monsters?!

  He had no right to criticize them, but it still left a bad taste in his mouth. Plus, there was so much of their story that he just couldn’t accept.

  Shizu was one thing, but their briefing was entirely based on monsters building a town for themselves. A single slime was at the top of the food chain, gathering hobgoblins to construct this town—a full-on, sturdily made municipality, just like any human settlement.

  Some of the more intelligent monsters did build small communities. Even goblins and other low-end creatures could slap together shelters for themselves. So having a settlement or whatnot was nothing to shout about. But this trio was talking about a bunch of monsters clearing land in the forest, chopping down trees, and using the wood to build homes. They even divided the town into distinct zones, crafting intricate plans about what would be built where.

  The more Fuze heard about it, the more it sounded like a real, full-on town. But it was hard to accept monsters pulling a trick like that. And that slime made him wonder. This creature, apparently named Rimuru, didn’t seem like your typical named monster. In fact, all the monsters in this town were named, a situation that turned common sense on its ear.

  All this apparently happened after this Rimuru monster appeared. It was too shocking a tale to ignore.

  “So after these monsters rescued you, this is the town you were taken to?”

  “Right. And we’re talking, you know, several hundred C-ranked monsters living together? There was really nothing we could’ve done. I thought I was a goner for sure. And then, they fed us actual cooked meat!”

  “Mmm, yeah, that was good. I hadn’t eaten anything for three whole days, so…”

  Shocking though their tale was, however, these three buffoons were making it sound like a nice campout in the woods. And after that, Shizu went out of control and Rimuru defeated the magic-born she transformed into. It was all simply beyond belief. Ifrit was a Special A–grade spirit. If something like that went rogue and started attacking, it’d be a calamity-class danger. A nation the size of Blumund would face a truly existential crisis.

  And—a slime, the lowest class of monster, defeated this?!

  Fuze wanted to shout at them to quit joking, but they all acted dead serious in their report. Between that, the dwarven artisans in town, and the healing potion that took care of even near-lethal injuries, he honestly began to wonder if they had dreamed it all.

  He suspected some form of illusory magic, but that was doubtful. Not as long as Elen was there. Magicians like her had high magical resistance, and anyone who could overcome that with their illusions was a Special A grade in themselves.

  Plus, the equipment the trio had on was some seriously compelling physical evidence. They had boasted about it to Fuze to no end, but clearly it was of quality make and superior performance—a first-class set. They even possessed an item or two forged by Garm, that most famous of dwarven craftsmen. Fuze could tell they weren’t fakes.

  Based on that evidence, the story couldn’t have been a magic-driven fever dream. It was ridiculous, but he had to accept it as the truth. He had to, but the report left him at a loss.

  How should he even judge this news?

  We had best send someone else to investigate, he decided after a week’s worth of pained deliberation.

  By Kabal’s description, his team never felt in danger inside this monster town. They had come home with gifts of equipment and healing potion, so that evaluation made sense. That, and after examining all this equipment, they found no curses applied to it and also potion of a better quality than almost anything the local guild had seen.

  Fuze had the equipment returned to them—they’d be constantly complaining to him otherwise, and their original gear was all broken into pieces anyway, apparently, which meant they couldn’t take any more jobs without it. In exchange, he did collect the remaining potion from them, using it to confirm their story.

  When a painful burn victim came into the guild, he used the potion on him, wondering if it’d work as well as Kabal claimed it did. In an instant, the blistered skin was healed, without so much as a scar remaining. The sorcerer-doctors at the hospital had seen nothing like it—they swore it was akin to a divine miracle, brought about by the holiest of magic. That bumbling trio wasn’t lying after all.

  This town of Rimuru’s was orderly, populated by monsters that followed the slime’s orders. What’s more—although Fuze couldn’t guess at the motive—the slime expressed a desire to visit their own city sometime. Kabal and his friends said he was welcome, and should it ever happen, Fuze had already asked the trio t
o arrange things with him.

  To him, the idea of letting some unknown monster venture into the kingdom of Blumund was outrageous. But defying the will of a monster powerful enough to defeat Ifrit solo would be just as foolish.

  Fuze found himself plagued with self-doubt. If I let such a monster into town, I could easily be prosecuted for subversion against the state…

  No matter what it took—even if it meant providing his own funds for the job—he really had to investigate this in more detail.

  Just as Fuze was fretting over who to select for this new expedition, Kabal and his cohorts came running over with a new problem. He could hear Kabal calling for him in the guild building now. Meeting him without an appointment normally wasn’t allowed, but the panicked tone of his shouting gave Fuze pause.

  “What is it this time? Is it something to do with that one?” he asked inside his secret reception room, pointing out a hooded figure among them.

  “We got trouble, Fuze! This guy said there’s an orc lord out there!”

  “An orc lord?!” Fuze almost spit his tea out. First Veldora blinking out of existence; then this mystery slime; and now this orc lord. Maybe none of it directly affected Blumund much, but he was aware that monster sightings had been going up in some nearby kingdoms. Fuze suspected it might all be connected, and the thought was draining.

  But the task at hand was the orc lord. “I’m sorry, but could I ask you who you are?” Fuze queried, recomposing himself.

  The hooded figure immediately removed his cloak, as if waiting for his cue. “Sorry ’bout that. My name’s Gobto, and I work under my captain, Gobta. I came here to tell Kabal over there about the orc lord, upon the request of my leader, Sir Rimuru.” Then he put his hood back on and sat down again.

  Fuze knew what he saw. That was a monster—a hobgoblin. He might resemble a human from far away, but the green twinge to his skin was unmistakable.

  And a named monster, no less… Kabal was telling the truth…

  This last bit of evidence finally convinced Fuze to believe fully in him. This orc lord report must have been the unvarnished truth as well, then.