That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime, Vol. 8

by Fuse

  Englesia had a lot of good food to enjoy, but nothing I’d describe as Japanese. Guy Crimson had prepared a Western-style full-course meal for me, but I just didn’t see a lot of Asian influence in this world’s cuisine. One reason for that: Few of the Western Nations bordered an ocean, so seafood wasn’t in plentiful supply. Attempting to preserve the freshness of ingredients with magic, it was explained to me, took a massive investment that few were willing to make. Thus, even if you had otherworlders who ran kitchens back in Japan, they couldn’t do much without the right raw materials.

  That made me recall the Japanese otherworlder, Yoshida, who ran that bakery and cake shop I liked in Englesia. He lamented how he used to enjoy making “drunken” cakes with gin, bourbon, and so on, but just couldn’t find anything like that in this world. I remember how excited he got after I told him I’d throw some his way.

  Thinking about that made me realize just how blessed I was over here. Just because you have a recipe doesn’t mean you’ll pull it off flawlessly on the first try, after all. And with Japanese cuisine in particular, tracking down ingredients was a challenge. I’d do things like go to the sea and capture a bunch of different fish species to try to find an equivalent to make bonito flakes from. Having a skill like Spatial Motion made it possible to transport goods in as fresh a condition as possible, which greatly expanded what was available to us. (I wanted to build a transport network that wasn’t so dependent on magic skills, but that was a topic for the future.)

  Cuisine, after all, is culture itself. If a nation doesn’t have a vibrant, expansive food culture, then if you ask me, what’s the point? Out of the three basic needs—food, clothing, and shelter—food was number one by far to me, although your mileage may vary.

  This was why I was expending (some would say wasting) a lot of energy developing new dishes. Wheat-based grain was easier than I surmised at first. I saw loaves of white bread in the Englesian capital; if you were well-off enough to afford it, it seemed like a daily staple. Studying the production process for that got us bread in Tempest in relatively short order.

  Right now, the main issue to tackle was white rice. We still hadn’t engineered something up to snuff taste-wise. Compared with what one saw in Japan, painstakingly curated and improved since ancient times, the quality just wasn’t there. That was expected; I wasn’t anticipating a sudden breakthrough for this one. Raising plants with magic, at least, sped up the harvests quite a bit, although research was still at a halt right now due to the winter season. For the moment, we just had a few experimental rice plants growing indoors, managed by researchers. Real results seemed like they’d be a while to come.

  I actually did have a solution for this, though. When I asked Raphael about a potential answer, it gave it to me right off—basically, use Shion’s Master Chef skill to alter the resulting rice. Tinkering the final plant rather than the initial seeds, after all, made improving the quality quite a bit easier. But was that really the right thing to do? It wasn’t like anyone else could copy this method, and it seemed kind of ethically suspect to me…but given how much I relied on just that method to fine-tune our alcoholic drinks, I was in no position to moralize. Put my conscience and my appetite on the scales, and the latter’s gonna win every time.

  Since we couldn’t ask Shion to alter every harvest for us, our research continued. But I did have her engineer a small supply of lovely white rice, though. Just a bit. Mainly for my personal consumption. Shion was more than glad to help, so I gave the bag to Shuna and had her steam it up for special occasions. Occasions like this one. I was entertaining a demon lord. Let’s live a little.

  If I wanted to make our relationship a good one, I had to demonstrate how useful my nation could be. The carrot and the stick. When someone you don’t like treats you well for a change, your impression of them goes up much higher than it does with someone you’re already on good terms with. Imagine the ex–juvenile delinquent who volunteers to help out kids for charity—that kind of thing.

  Maybe a little show like that could turn Luminus and crew to my side. I wasn’t sure the paladins would be that gullible, but appealing to people’s stomachs is a pretty classic—and effective—strategy to take. It was a tad underhanded, but it was also a great excuse to turn this evening’s feast into an extravaganza. And sure, the white rice might disagree with their palates—that particular element of our cuisine is more for me as a Japanese person—but I bet Hinata would appreciate it. It sure wowed me after going without it for a while.

  Plus, who doesn’t like tempura? Nobody, that’s who. It was already a hit with the adventurers and merchants; Benimaru, in particular, was actually a huge fan. Clearly, there were no obstacles to its acceptance in this world.

  As I reflected on this, the serving trays were all put in place. Now we just had to wait for the paladins to get out of the bath.

  The place settings were lined up in the shape of the letter C, with three seats at the center—me in the middle, Veldora and Luminus on either side. It gave me a view of everyone at the banquet, with the paladins and our city’s officials facing each other along the arc. This had the nuance of an informal gathering, so I wanted to be sure people could all see one another.

  Soon, the paladins were ushered into the banquet hall. They had just come out from the bath, wearing the yukata and jinbei prepared for them. It must’ve been a novel experience, but they looked comfortable for the most part. You’d be hard-pressed to find something even more relaxing to wear around the house, after all—kind of like lounging around in sweats all day.

  They all seemed a bit on edge as they were guided inside. The lack of tables and chairs must have thrown them, not to mention the custom of taking off their footwear before going up on the tatami floor. The goblinas guiding them along were in their element, however, demonstrating some pretty surprising elegance. Vester must’ve been teaching them well. I could tell some of the paladins weren’t sure what to make of them.

  Luminus sat down first, the picture of high society as she settled next to me. Louis was next, a practical mirror image of the former demon lord Roy and every bit as dignified as his papal rank suggested. Third was Hinata, who (after sitting down) looked at me, determined.

  “I have to apologize for all the trouble we’ve given you. What happened today, as well as the last time we met, was thanks to my own poor judgment. It wasn’t an order from Lady Luminus, and my paladins are not responsible for it. I don’t know if you can find it in yourself to forgive me, but—”

  “Whoa, stop right there!”

  I had to stop her before she started kowtowing to me on the tatami. Our first encounter? Yeah, that was all her fault. But our most recent rumble was all a misunderstanding, the Seven Days guys pulling the strings behind it, and Luminus had already taken care of them. And with Diablo wrapping things up over in Farmus as well, I saw no reason to keep dragging out the issue.

  That’s why I stepped up to interrupt her. But then I made an astonishing new discovery. I… I thought I could see it—the smoothly undulating twin peaks, unfolding underneath her partially opened yukata!! Slightly flushed after the bath and so supremely captivating!

  I hadn’t deliberately tried for that, but man, talk about good timing! Was this Raphael at work?

  Understood. That is not the case.

  That reply sounded a little cold to me, but it didn’t matter. Oh, man. I was starting to feel…adventurous. Now would normally be when I began sporting wood, but that thing was long gone. Ah well. A man never leaves his sense of adventure behind! Good thing I don’t get nosebleeds in this body, either.

  A yukata, though, huh? Wow. Talk about packing a punch. A woman, fresh from the bath, in a yukata. There’s just no beating that. And if that woman was as beautiful as Hinata, the fearsome synergy that results…

  …Well, she got me. I gave in. Defeated. I’d forgive her for anything she’d done. In fact, I already had.

  CHAPTER 2

  THE INVITEES

  You cou
ld try hiding it all you wanted, but it was doomed to spread. In short order, the rumors had reached the ears of leaders in the nations surrounding the Forest of Jura—

  Hinata, the Saint, was defeated by Rimuru, the demon lord.

  The news came across several routes, delivered with careful precision, ensuring it would reach the people it was intended for. It sounded so eminently plausible, and of course, someone was behind its spreading—but in another moment, the word had traveled so far that nobody would ever know who.

  No matter how secret the Crusaders’ invasion was, there was no way to keep everyone in the dark forever. The reason was obvious: Tempest was now the center of attention, and to the nations that had relations with it, they had to be constantly vigilant about intelligence collection. The Crusaders’ deployment to Tempest was an open secret by this point, and that helped make this new rumor seem even more believable. And this news was interpreted in many different ways by many different people. Some feared the demon lord Rimuru. Some angrily dismissed Hinata as a feckless fraud. Others proceeded with caution, trying to decide how best to keep their homelands safe.

  But along with these flowing rumors, news was also coming from official sources: Hinata, the Saint, and Rimuru, the demon lord, fought to a draw. The result of this: a truce between Lubelius and the Jura-Tempest Federation, along with the signing of a nonaggression treaty.

  Things were getting complicated—and that wasn’t the only problem giving world leaders headaches. Those very same leaders were receiving invitations from Rimuru himself, the demon lord at the core of this crisis.

  None of these nations were about to accept the Council of the West’s official announcement as the whole story. It would turn all common sense on its head—and alter the fabric of the world itself. Every leader could smell it in the air, and even if they lacked the whole story, they knew that the paladins had suffered no casualties. That told them everything they needed to make a decision.

  And in the midst of all these wild, twisting motives, the Western Nations were about to experience earth-shattering change.

  In a corner of the Dwarven Kingdom, the Armed Nation of Dwargon, a group of ministers and top officials had settled down into a meeting.

  “Ah, now he’s done it.” The dignified voice of Gazel Dwargo, the Heroic King of the land of dwarves, rumbled through the chamber.

  The kingdom’s dark agents, their network of spies, had been busy lately. Intelligence was flowing like a torrent, and their agents had to spend sleepless nights analyzing it all, deciphering recorded images and crafting dossiers from the finely mined details. Multiple copies of these reports were written out for the ministers, and with all the data involved, the number of pages in each one stacked upward and upward.

  It was grueling work, but it was still better than the situation a few months ago, back when that slime Rimuru became a demon lord and immediately pivoted into a duel with Clayman. The dark agents, the agency behind them, and Gazel and his officials—they had all suffered terribly from a lack of sleep. Compared with those days, this was a walk in the park.

  “Heh…heh-heh-heh. I find it hard to believe, but believe it I must. It would appear your sparring partner has defeated the Saint.”

  “You are being disrespectful, Vaughn,” chided Dolph, the hardheaded captain of the Pegasus Knights. “This is a public meeting hall, not your personal chamber. Remember where you speak!”

  Vaughn shrugged and gave him a languid nod before turning a more vengeful eye toward the ministers and coughing once.

  “Do not berate him too much, Dolph,” King Gazel said. “I am as surprised by this as anyone. I am sure Vaughn couldn’t help but laugh.”

  The assembled members had no choice but to accept this. The news had shocked them all. Now was no time to go on about Vaughn’s lack of decorum.

  The reports in their hands laid out all the details behind recent events, and it was a roller coaster of a read from start to finish. Over a hundred Crusaders, the strongest force among humankind, had staged a clandestine violent assault on the nation of monsters. Even Henrietta’s dark agents, the pride of Gazel, had only picked up the news the other day—or really, only found out once battle began. And if the dark agents knew, there was no doubting every other nation’s secret service did. Tempest, after all, was crawling with spies. Rimuru seemed to be aware of them, but essentially left them be, perhaps to better advertise his moves. Once full-bore combat began, even the most amateur intelligence organization would know what was going on.

  In the end, the Crusaders lost. The demon lord Rimuru had won—and without killing a single one of them. The dark agents sadly failed to witness the battle for themselves, but that was the report they gave.

  “But Your Majesty,” Henrietta said, “I saw it happen myself…”

  As she explained, she was around to see the fight eventually devolve into a one-on-one duel between Hinata and Rimuru. However, due to an onrush of out-of-control magicules, the dark agents were blocked from magically eavesdropping on the event.

  “…We also detected a powerful aura surrounding the area, and we believe that was the cause of this.”

  “So someone triggered a magicule storm powerful enough to block all monitoring magic?”

  “It was not a magicule storm, Lady Jaine, so much as a clash of opposed energy waves triggering a jamming signal.”

  “Hmm,” mused Jaine, the elderly arch-wizard of the kingdom. “So you didn’t see how this duel ended yourselves? Why are you so sure Hinata lost?”

  Hinata, all-powerful head of the Crusaders, required no introduction to Jaine. She had personal insights into the Saint’s strength, and she found it hard to believe Hinata tasted defeat.

  “I can only offer circumstantial evidence in my defense,” replied Henrietta. “But after centuries of refusing to side with monsters, the Western Holy Church has overturned its own doctrine. They’ve even sent us word about opening official connections with us, the dwarves. The nation of Lubelius is also moving to establish relations with Tempest. Word of this has been sent to governments worldwide, and we are now awaiting the official proclamation. These are drastic changes, and I believe they offer the clearest evidence yet that Hinata was defeated.”

  “Mmmm. Certainly, if those human-supremacist blockheads so quickly changed their tune like that…I suppose it means something must have forced their hand. But… King Gazel, you know this means there’s a greater chance than ever that the demon lord Rimuru has grown more powerful than you, do you not?” Jaine seemed to find even asking the question painful.

  Hinata, the Saint, and Gazel, the Master of the Sword, were an even match, whether Gazel wanted to admit it or not. If Hinata just lost, simple logic dictated that Rimuru now outclassed Gazel.

  “Ridiculous!”

  “How dare you insult His Majesty, Lady Jaine!”

  The ministers howled at Jaine, but she refused to budge. As far as she was concerned, the truth was the truth. And Gazel agreed.

  “That much growth in the space of a few months?” Vaughn casually asked. The question was greeted by a snort from the king. It’s no longer a matter of growth, my good man! he thought.

  Even the last time they met, something about the demon lord Rimuru seemed strange. This wasn’t some gushing geyser of pure force in front of him—everything was calm. He couldn’t feel a thing. Gazel’s own power—the unique skill Tyrant, which let him see through everything, even other people’s thoughts—gave him no insight at all into the creature. It meant Rimuru was able to completely restrain his force. Maybe he didn’t know everything about the outcome of the duel, but Hinata surviving the ordeal was an achievement in itself.

  “It is likely so,” he said, considering this. “The evolution into demon lord means his powers now rival mine. Him defeating Hinata wouldn’t be unusual at all.”

  “B-but, Your Majesty! You, the hero of generations, on an even keel with a monster born but a few years ago…”

  “I agree wholeheartedl
y. Surely my liege must be mistaken?”

  “And even if it is so, wouldn’t that make the demon lord Rimuru far too dangerous?”

  The ministers were uproarious once more. Gazel sighed to himself. If that was how the logic went, Rimuru was far from the only threat.

  He looked down at his dossier. In it, the dark agents described how the officers under Rimuru fought against the Ten Great Saints—and according to their report, not one of the monsters fell. Each one scored a complete victory, some of them even overwhelming several Saints at once. It was amazing news, and if it could be believed, there was no denying that Tempest’s overall ability to wage war surpassed Dwargon’s.

  The magically recorded video evidence from the battle was hazy at best, making it hard to discern much detail. That was a shame, given how these devices were the height of dwarven technology—but with the unstable magicules in the air, they failed to function properly. Only the visual images survived, the audio failed to be recorded, and the quality of this imagery made it impossible to analyze the subjects’ abilities. You could barely make out what was happening, as valuable an asset as this evidence was.

  Still, Gazel could make out a few familiar figures in the images—the magic-born he had spoken with before.

  They’ve grown stronger. Our full force may not be enough to defeat them now…

  Some of the minsters were prattling on about the potential danger, others loudly disagreeing with them. They were both correct, most likely. Gazel tuned out the noise, pondering to himself. Maybe, he began to think, he should have wiped him out before he became this much of a threat.