by Fuse
Copyright
That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime, Vol. 7
FUSE
Translation by Kevin Gifford
Cover art by Mitz Vah
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
TENSEI SHITARA SLIME DATTA KEN volume 7
© Fuse / Mitz Vah
All rights reserved.
First published in Japan in 2016 by MICROMAGAZINE,INC.
English translation rights arranged with MICROMAGAZINE,INC. through Tuttle-Mori Agency, Inc., Tokyo.
English translation © 2019 by Yen Press, LLC
Yen Press, LLC supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact the publisher. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Fuse, author. | Mitz Vah, illustrator. | Gifford, Kevin, translator.
Title: That time I got reincarnated as a slime / Fuse ; illustration by Mitz Vah ; translation by Kevin Gifford.
Other titles: Tensei Shitara Slime datta ken. English
Description: First Yen On edition. | New York : Yen ON, 2017–
Identifiers: LCCN 2017043646 | ISBN 9780316414203 (v. 1 : pbk.) | ISBN 9781975301118 (v. 2 : pbk.) | ISBN 9781975301132 (v. 3 : pbk.) | ISBN 9781975301149 (v. 4 : pbk.) | ISBN 9781975301163 (v. 5 : pbk.) | ISBN 9781975301187 (v. 6 : pbk.) | ISBN 9781975301200 (v. 7 : pbk.)
Subjects: GSAFD: Fantasy fiction.
Classification: LCC PL870.S4 T4613 2017 | DDC 895.63/6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017043646
ISBNs: 978-1-9753-0120-0 (paperback)
978-1-9753-0121-7 (ebook)
E3-20191119-JV-NF-ORI
PROLOGUE
THE MAGIC-BORN MEMORIAL
Clayman was dead. And when Laplace delivered the news to the group assembled before him, the reaction was stunned silence.
“You lie! There is no way that could happen!”
This was Footman frantically shouting now, but no one could find it in themselves to see things his way. Laplace was always so aloof, easygoing, never one to express any of his true emotions. But his face said it all. This was not the joker all of them knew—he was literally hanging his head in shame before them. It was all they needed to see to know that Clayman was really and truly dead.
“…Last night, the night of that Walpurgis Council, I lost my connection with Clayman,” Kazalim ponderously stated as Teare sobbed nearby. “My connection with someone I viewed as my own child. It could only mean one thing for him—death. I hardly wanted to admit it to myself. Even now, Laplace, after what you told us, I am filled with a stubborn refusal to admit it…”
“This was my mistake,” a boy with black hair regretfully lamented. “I thought the demon lords were kid stuff. I needed to be more careful. Gather more intelligence and then take action.”
There were ten demon lords in all, looking down upon the world from atop their lofty peaks. But even in such heady territory, each of them bore different strengths and weaknesses. Clayman’s apparently successful application of Demon Dominate on the mind of the demon lord Milim caused him to forget that vital fact—and even worse, led him to believe he could rule over all his fellow lords. It was much too rash of him.
“If you’re gonna put it that way,” replied Laplace, lightening the mood with a joking tone, “I’m the one who suggested it to the guy. I never thought for a moment it’d turn out like this, no, not that it matters now. Plus, you have to admit it—Clayman was too stupid for his own good this time. I told him not to let his guard down, but he got carried away with it, and it blew up on him. All there is to it.”
“Laplace!” snarled Footman. “You can’t speak of him like that!”
“I’m only tellin’ the truth. He was weak, he got carried away, and now he’s dead.”
“Laplace!!”
Letting his anger overcome him, Footman took a swing at Laplace. His fist dug into the cheek of its target; Laplace didn’t bother to dodge it. But that was all. Laplace remained where he stood, his eyes swiveling toward his attacker.
“Oh, what, you wanna go, Footman? Well, be my guest!”
He let slip an easygoing smile as he taunted Footman, all but daring him to focus his anger upon him. Kazalim saw right through it.
“Stop it, you two!” she roared, halting them both. “This is a sad occasion for each of us.”
“She’s right,” the boy added. “Why are you playing the bad guy all by yourself here, Laplace? That’s not like you. If anyone should play that role, it oughtta be me for hiring all of you.”
“Ah…” Now Footman realized it. Laplace was goading him on purpose. “My apologies, Laplace.”
“…Nah, it’s fine. But you know, pal—and you too, President—you sure are mean, ain’tcha? I am trying to be the bad guy here, so how ’bout not letting the cat out of the bag?”
He rubbed his cheek as he continued to complain. And something about the sight was so comical that it really did lighten the mood—if only a little.
Back in control of their emotions, the magic-born discussed what to do next. Wailing about the misfortune of it all, Kazalim reasoned, would do nothing to realize Clayman’s goals. Their talks grew sterner, more serious.
“…I couldn’t tell you what happened in there, but as the demon lord Valentine put it, Clayman definitely died during the Council. He didn’t mention who did it, though…”
“Too bad I couldn’t have beaten it outta him…”
“No, Laplace. I am glad to see you still breathing, at least.”
“Ahh, I was just lucky. It happened to be the new moon, and bein’ a vampire, Valentine was at the low end of his strength. We were in a holy place to boot. Lotsa holiness fillin’ up the atmosphere. That’s the only reason my attacks worked at all.”
Nobody doubted Laplace’s words. Laplace only managed to defeat Valentine, whose strength was on a par with the Kazalim of the past, thanks to several overlapping factors working out in his favor. Plus, Laplace was second only to Kazalim in brute force. His role as vice president of the Moderate Jesters was no empty title—he had the strength to back it up. That was why everyone in the room so readily accepted Laplace’s astonishing victory—and thus, the talks continued, with nobody noticing the lie lurking between his words.
“This is quite the conundrum, however…”
“You could say that,” Kazalim muttered. “We lost the base of operations we granted Clayman, his forces, his treasure…everything. A staggering loss.”
The boy nodded his agreement.
“Wh-what do you mean?” Teare asked. “Whether the demon lords killed Clayman or not, we still have his headquarters, don’t we?”
“I know that Clayman’s forces were routed,” added Footman, “but we still have every chance to regroup and attack once again, no? We still have Adalmann, that crazed Saint, patrolling the lands. A wight king like him is just as strong as any of us—and the curse you’ve laid upon him is as active as ever, isn’t it, President?”
Kazalim exchanged glances with the boy before slowly, painfully, opening his mouth. “The complex I granted Clayman fell yesterday, in the course of a single evening. That slime, of all people, sent a small assault force to capture it.”
“Huhhh?” Laplace reacted.
“No!” Teare shouted.
“You’re kidding me!” protested Footman. “So the magic-born I saw on that battlefield wasn’t even the full force at that Rimuru’s disposal— Ah, wait a minute.” He looked up for a moment. “Hold on, hold on, I remember that crystal…”
“Right.” The boy nodded. “The images Laplace took— You saw the ogre mages in there, didn’t you? I think it’s safe to say that each of them alone is a Special A-grade threat in the battlefield.”
Footman fell silent, mouth agape.
“…Really?” Teare whispered. Nobody answered.
“Regardless,” reported Kazalim, “that slime Rimuru was at the battle. I suppose he sprang that fight upon us as a ruse so he could capture Clayman’s quarters himself. For a slime of his caliber, it’s not impossible to imagine him breaking through our defensive lines.”
Now the rest of the room was beginning to realize just how ominous the situation was.
“Which is why,” the boy said, “I think we need to reconsider our objective.”
With the majority of their military forces gone, he reasoned, any strategic moves needed to be avoided for now. Clayman’s death alone was a serious psychological blow to everybody who knew him. But fortunately, they had not lost everything. They still had resources left untapped in order to spread out the risk, as well as the group they had implanted deep inside the Western Nations. Plus, the political influence they wielded behind the scenes with those two groups was still as strong as ever. Perhaps they lacked physical might, but they had intelligence-gathering experts deployed across the land, laying out feelers to gauge every nation’s direction.
To the boy, who had started with nothing and come this far, it was still possible to stage a comeback. And that was why…
“…For the time being, we need to lay low. It’s a shame about Clayman, but we don’t have enough power to try to exact revenge upon the demon lords. If we want to reach our ultimate goal of conquering the world, I think we need to be patient for now.”
His audience nodded their agreement.
“True enough. We’ve made major strides over the past ten years. Perhaps it planted the seeds of arrogance inside all of us.”
“Yep. Hence why Clayman got it in his head to pull all that nonsense…”
“Right. I hate to say it, but doing anything rash right now is likely to make things even worse.”
“I hesitate to accept it myself, but I concede it is our best option for now…”
The boy giggled a little as the magic-born all offered their agreement. “Ha-ha-ha! Oh, cut me a break, Footman,” he chuckled, patting him on the shoulder. “I’ve still got all of you—the best cards in my hand. I can’t afford to lose you guys over some reckless shot in the dark, too.”
This was something he truly meant and also the main reason behind his decision. He needed to be sure everyone was on the same page as him, or else he feared at least one would let their anger get the best of them. Footman knew that perfectly well—and he knew he had to accept it.
“I know, pal. Better to bottle it up inside for now, so we can let it fully erupt later.”
He did understand that. Losing his cool and picking a fight with a cadre of demon lords would simply spell the end of his life. He had to accept the boy’s reasoning.
The boy, appreciating this, looked at the magic-born assembled before him. “But hey, it’s no fun to be the punching bag all the time, right? Maybe we won’t do anything, but we can say a lot of things. That slime took Clayman for everything he had, and I think I know how to get back at him a bit.”
He gave an ominous little grin.
“How do you mean?” Kazalim asked.
“There is something unusual about that slime,” the boy replied, grinning with glee. “In just a few years, he has built up a new, and massive, force. It’s hard for me to believe, and in any normal situation, we’d never want to defy him. So let’s wait and see a little, huh? And to do that, I’ve got something I want to deploy.”
“Oh, great.” Laplace shrugged. “Another little scheme of yours? At least it beats you ordering me to pull off some other insane trick, as you usually do. Hopefully I can stay in the audience for this one, thanks.”
For now, the magic-born were withdrawing from the public eye, descending into a sort of primordial darkness—sharpening their fangs for the fated day of revenge, whenever it may come.
CHAPTER 1
DEMONS AND SCHEMES
Once we settled on the name Octagram for ourselves, Mizeri and Raine, the green- and blue-haired maids in Guy Crimson’s service, prepared an extravagant meal for us all. They were decked out in dark-red maid’s outfits, and their kitchen skills, it turned out, were second to none.
As Ramiris told me, the original purpose of the Walpurgis Council was to let demon lords hang out and swap information. As a vestige of this, perhaps, the space we were in featured a separate room…a sort of casual lounge, you could say. Attendance wasn’t mandatory, and all the demon lords did their own thing—some left immediately after the meeting ended, some stuck around long enough for dinner, and others whiled away the time by chatting in the lounge.
Me, I went for the food. You don’t get a chance like this every day, and honestly, considering how much more overpowered Guy was compared with the rest of us, I wanted to see what his diet was like. The resulting meal was more exquisitely delightful than I ever could’ve imagined. Each dish was an astounding new discovery, the best of its type in the whole world, and as I lingered over each one in reverie:
Report. Component analysis complete. It is now possible to re-create the recipes black tiger stew, grilled sage rooster, golden peach sherbet, and roast earthensleep dragon steak.
I stole all the recipes. Is that mean of me? It seemed kind of unfair, not that I really understood what made them work. Steal makes it sound illegal or something. This was just intelligence gathering. These recipes called for meat from monsters rated A or higher, which you don’t exactly see walking into town every day. But once I had the right ingredients, I think I would know how to prepare them now.
The feast was rounded out with a bountiful selection of fresh fruit. Six of us were at the table, by the way—me, Guy, Milim, Ramiris, Deeno, and Daggrull. Valentine and Leon had left long ago.
I took a moment to admonish Milim for tricking me as she gorged herself. She was still playing dumb, but I needed to give her a taste of reality. Meanwhile, I had Carillon and Frey promise me that we’d all discuss the future at a later time. Once we cleaned up after the war, I figured I’d be consulted about the upcoming city-rebuild work. This was going to be a brand-new nation, one with Milim at its head, and I intended to approach those discussions so they benefited me as much as possible.
Ramiris was still bugging me about moving to my hometown. I refused her point-blank, of course, but she wasn’t giving up. You could see it in her eyes. I figured Treyni would be nice enough to pacify her a bit for me, but I had the sneaking suspicion that Treyni loved spoiling Ramiris more than anything else. It seemed that was practically what she lived for, so I reminded myself not to expect much as I resolved to keep an eye on them.
Daggrull and Veldora seemed to be hitting it off pretty well, and Guy and Deeno were engaged in friendly c
onversation. I decided to offer all of them some of Tempest’s world-famous brandy, distilled from our own wine. Part of my branding efforts, you might say. Spreading the word about how useful a nation we were would oil the gears for diplomacy later. That much is true whether you’re dealing with a demon lord or your next-door neighbor.
“Not bad.”
“Well, well, look at this…”
“Hack! Cough, cough cough! Man, that’s got some bite…”
It was maybe a bit too much alcohol for Deeno to handle, but Guy and Daggrull enjoyed it. So would you please not drink all of it first, Veldora? I had a pretty decent stockpile left in my Stomach, but I didn’t store it in there just so Veldora could guzzle it all. And Milim immediately grabbed at the brandy, too, of course. I didn’t let her have any. You know she’d be an angry drunk. And considering how she tricked me, I had to put my foot down on this.
“And it’s fine for me, mmmmmm?”
Ramiris, meanwhile, was already preciously cradling her glass, three sheets to the wind in the blink of an eye. I let the frantic Beretta and Treyni deal with her. This was actually good for me. If she stayed sober and undistracted tonight, there’s every chance she would’ve tried following me back to Tempest.
So things were in full swing before long at this feast, and I decided to take my leave before Ramiris woke up from her stupor. It was quite an ending to the Walpurgis Council—not at all what I expected, but I’m glad my worrying was all for naught in the end.
It had been, to say the least, an eventful twenty-four hours. Walpurgis began at the stroke of midnight; by the time we wrapped it up, it was already early afternoon the next day.
In a flash, I was back at Tempest. The trip over there was one thing, but with Dominate Space, the journey back was a snap. And unlike before, my nation hadn’t fallen apart in my absence—spirits were high, everything worked fine, and I was tremendously relieved. All our forces had kept their high alert going, just as I ordered. They were all more refined now, contributing to safety on the streets more than ever. I had overlooked nothing. The town’s security system, modeled after the police I was familiar with on Earth, seemed to be a decent success.
