That time i got reincarn.., p.12
That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime, Vol. 1, page 12
part #1 of Reincarnated as a Slime Series
“Hey, um, Rigur? By the way…who was it that named your brother, anyway?”
“Ah, thank you for recalling my name, Sir Rimuru! My brother was named by a passing member of the magic-born races.”
“Oh? One of them visited a random goblin village?”
“Indeed, Sir Rimuru, about a decade ago. I was still a child. He spent several days in my village…and he claimed to ‘see something’ in my brother, in his words.”
“Huh. Must’ve been a nice brother.”
“Oh, absolutely! He was my pride and joy. Sir Gelmud, the one who bestowed the name, said it himself. ‘I would love to have you among my men,’ he said!”
“But he didn’t take him along on his journey?”
“No, Sir Rimuru. He was still young at the time. Sir Gelmud said he would return in several years, once he was stronger, and then he set off.”
“Ohh. Bet he’ll be pretty surprised at how much everything’s changed when he gets back!”
“I imagine so, yes. Now, though, we serve you, Sir Rimuru. We may not be able to follow Sir Gelmud to his honorable demon horde, but…”
“Demon horde? Wow, he’s got one of those, huh? You sure he would’ve been willing to invite the rest of you guys, too?”
“I am rather positive, actually. My brother evolved himself as a named monster, but the changes that wrought were nothing compared to what you provided us. Clearly, this evolution was on a different caliber. Heavens, I thought I would never hear the World Language once in my life. Such an honor!”
The hobgobs listening in on us all nodded their earnest agreement. That kind of thing, huh? Naming someone evolves them, but how it turns out depends on the namer…? I’d love to recruit someone to help me experiment on that a bit. We could have a name-off.
But…dang. A real-life demon horde. I knew there had to be one of those around here! Is the king of all demons going to attack us sooner or later? Actually, which side should we be on if that happens? Maybe I should save that question for when it actually comes up, if it ever does.
I already know there’s at least one “hero” out there, besides, so I’m sure that king or whatever’s gonna be mostly focused on whoever that is. Not too sure the one Veldora told me about is alive after three centuries of retirement, but given how easy it apparently is to transmigrate and revive and so on around here, something tells me she’s still up in some mountain shack right now, training away.
Better make a mental note of that Gelmud guy, at least. Now, next question.
“Ranga!” I called out to the black wolf that was suddenly my biggest fan in the universe. “I’m kind of the guy who killed your father, aren’t I? You don’t have any lingering, you know, resentment about that?”
“I do have thoughts about it, my master. But to a monster, victory or defeat in battle is the only absolute in life. No matter how it turns out, we are aware of the fact that might makes right. Win, and the day is yours! Lose, and nothing shall remain! But…not only did my master forgive; he even gave me my once and future name for all time! I am filled with thankfulness, not resentment!”
“Hmm… Well, if you want a rematch, I’m open any time.”
“Heh-heh-heh… But, indeed, my evolution has made it all the clearer in my mind! If you had unleashed your full force in our previous battle, the whole of the pack would have been wiped out. We would have been lost to the winds of time, never able to realize our dreams of evolution! Our loyalty, our devotion, belongs to our one true master alone!”
All…right?
Certainly, in black snake form, I might’ve been able to do ’em all in with one breath. But I didn’t want to have to try anything so risky. He’s really thinking way too highly of me.
Not that I mind him having the wrong idea, but…
“You realized that, eh? Guess you really have grown a little!”
“Ah-hah-hah! It pleases me to hear such words!”
I nodded to myself. I mean, I killed his dad. There’s no way he’s not at least a little miffed about that. If Ranga wanted to exact his revenge someday, I’d gladly hold up my end of the bargain. He could definitely give a black snake a run for his money, at least.
We chatted a bit more as the road wore on. All of us were moving far, far ahead of schedule.
“Hey, you guys aren’t going too fast for your own good, are you?” I asked.
“Not a problem, Sir Rimuru!” Rigur shot back. “Thanks to our evolution, perhaps! We are not terribly fatigued at all!”
“Do not worry, my master!” added Ranga. “We are not wholly freed from the bonds of sleep as you are, but we do not require an extended period of rest! Nor do we need frequent stops for food. It will be no obstacle, even if we fast for several days!”
I scoped out the rest of the crew. They all looked just as gung ho as when we set off. Sheesh, I’m probably the least enthused out of them all. And why shouldn’t I be? I’ve got nothing to do up here.
We wound up running, running, and running some more for around half the day. Talk about tough.
As the group took their evening meal at the end of the second day, I decided to ask Gobta about the Dwarven Kingdom we were headed toward.
“Y-yes, sir! Umm, it is officially known as the Armed Nation of Dwargon! Their leader is known as the Heroic King, and—”
Something about his shouty reply indicated that my speaking to him made him terribly nervous. I was afraid he’d bite his tongue in his panic.
According to Gobta’s account, the current king was Gazel Dwargo, third in his line from the original. A great hero, one whose might and presence made the elder dwarves recall his grandfather in his younger years, but also an intelligent one who ruled his realm with a steady, even hand. A living hero, in a way.
It had been a thousand years since Guran Dwargo, the first Heroic King of the dwarves, established this kingdom. Since then, his descendants had carried on his will, preserving and developing his people’s history, culture, and technical skill.
In a nutshell, that was Dwargon. Given how long its kings apparently lived, it must have been a hell of a place. Hearing about it got me excited.
“In that case,” I asked, “how much longer will it take, Gobta?”
“If I had to guess, we should arrive by the morrow, sir! The mountains are starting to loom high!”
He was right. The peaks weren’t even visible until yesterday. We were advancing at an astounding clip.
“I’ve just thought of something, Gobta—what errand brought you there in the first place? I thought you had merchants visiting the village regularly.”
As far as I had heard from Rigurd, there were bands of kobolds who stopped by on regular occasions. Why would a goblin want to take the two-month journey over here, then?
“Y-yes, sir! The dwarves pay high prices for magical weapons and armor, you see. They paid us with tools and such, but the merchants helped me carry them back, thankfully! None of the monsters around the village could use that magical gear anyway…”
Aha. So they sold the weapons and stuff they found off passing adventurers? No wonder there was nothing decent left at the village. He must’ve carted it all to the Dwarven Kingdom because the kobolds didn’t have any way of appraising it on-site. Of course, any adventurers who’d lose to a bunch of goblins almost certainly must’ve been utter beginners, so inexperienced that they couldn’t even use a compass to keep from stumbling into monster villages. I doubted any of their gear could’ve been worth much.
“Plus,” Rigur added to Gobta’s roundabout reply, “all the goods the dwarves make—the weapons, mainly—it’s top-notch. Even the humans recognize it as the best make in the land, and they gather at the kingdom to seek out the latest works, along with the subraces and intelligent monsters. It’s been tradition for years now, and all conflict between races is prohibited there, in the name of the king.”
So we were traveling there less to sell some junk and more to buy the tools they needed. The fact that they could do so on neutral turf, without getting laughed at by the other monsters, must’ve been another attraction.
“Such an arrangement,” Rigur continued, “is made possible by the Armed Nation’s astonishing military might. As far as the kobold merchants told me, the dwarven armies have not tasted defeat in a full millennium…”
The kingdom enjoyed the defenses of a massive, powerful, magic-driven army corps and a wall of heavily armed infantry. Any would-be attackers would find themselves first blocked by the infantry, then turned into dust by a rain of offensive magic.
The equipment that backed up such an offensive juggernaut must have been very high-tech indeed, for this world. As Rigur put it, it was overwhelmingly superior to any human-made weapons or armor. I doubted anyone had the guts to mess with them at this point. It’d be the intelligent thing for a nearby nation to try to stay on their friendly side. No wonder none of their visitors were stupid enough to squabble with any other monsters within their territory.
Still, dealing with any species, regardless of what they look like? The dwarves must be pretty chill dudes. Maybe I could make a few connections myself. In fact, I’d better.
This was a realm where people intermingled freely with monsters. A land that began with the surface city and extended down, down, down. A kingdom armed to the hilt that walked the path of peace. No place in the world boasted as many weaponsmiths and merchants, and yet it sounded like the farthest point in the universe from any kind of conflict. A bit ironic, maybe.
The way the Dwarven Kingdom was starting to sound from these conversations, I couldn’t wait to arrive.
Exactly three days after we began our journey, we reached the grasslands at the foot of the Canaats. The city truly was beautiful—chiseled into the vast mountain cavern, a natural fortress created by nature.
It was the Armed Nation of Dwargon in all its mighty glory.
And, of course, there was a line to get in.
The front gate was enormous, built to block free entry into the vast cave opening.
This gate opened only whenever the army went inside or out, and that, I heard, happened just once a month. Today it was firmly closed, but at the bottom of the great doors were two small entryways meant for regular traffic. The right-hand one had nobody in front of it—probably meant for the nobility or any other lofty figures who showed up. The door we were waiting for was on the left, and while some people bore passes that allowed them free entry, others had to undergo luggage checks in a separate chamber. All of this, of course, was guarded by a security detail whose equipment certainly reminded you that this was the Armed Nation. They weren’t clowning around.
Once you were through security, you were pretty free to do what you wanted around the city, it seemed…but man, what a line. We were bound to spend more time waiting than traveling at this rate.
“Guess we’re really here, huh?” a nearby traveler ventured as I scanned the line of people down the corridor. “That’s a fancy gate.”
“Look at the armor on that soldier!” his companion exclaimed. “We probably couldn’t afford gear like that after ten years on my salary.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet! Even the Eastern Empire tries to keep things peaceful with these guys—in public, at least. With that kind of equipment, I see why.”
“You said it. They sure ain’t gonna give you a second chance if you try anything. The blowback would be one hell of a headache for any nation that tried it!”
Maybe the dwarves of this world weren’t the kind, gentle, almost lovable beings I was picturing. They could be a lot more violent than that, for all I knew. Still, as a free city and a hub of trade across races and species, it maintained at least a public face of neutrality. The fact that the Heroic King never allowed combat inside the city was fairly common knowledge among adventurers. I supposed that even in this world, you could afford to be neutral only if you had the muscle to back it up.
As I mused over this, I began hearing some more sinister voices.
“Hey! Hey, check it out, there’re monsters out here! We can kill ’em, right? We aren’t inside yet.”
“Yeah, what the hell’re you guys standing in line for? You think we’re gonna letcha do that, you little runts? Gimme your spot before we kill you! And leave your crap there, too, all right? Then we’ll letcha go!”
I figured they had to be out of their minds, but then again, it was just me and Gobta.
A bunch of loinclothed goblins riding gigantic wolves would have been bound to stir up at least a little attention, and not the good kind, so I’d decided to go in solo with my guide. Rigur had wanted to join me, but I’d turned him down.
They were all camped out at the forest entrance now, waiting for our return. Which left the two of us. I’m sure we looked as if we had giant targets painted on our asses. Now this pair of adventurers was accosting us, whining about not liking our faces or whatever.
“Hey, did you hear something, Gobta?”
“Yes, I did…”
“Did you run into any trouble last time you were here?”
“Of course I did, sir! Ooh, they beat me silly! The kobold merchants had to pick me up off the ground! Might’ve died if they didn’t, eh?”
“…They did, huh? So we can’t avoid this?”
“It is, uhh, the fate of the weak…?”
He’d all but expected it. Sheesh, could’ve told me beforehand. Gobta hung his head, realizing what was in store for him. He was finally getting comfortable talking to me. I was a bit worried this threat would make him flee back into his shell again.
“Yo! You think you runts got a right to ignore us?!”
“Hey, isn’t a talking slime pretty rare? Maybe we could get some money outta selling it.”
The adventurers kept yapping at us. People (maybe could have) said I had the patience of a saint back home, but this was starting to irk me.
“Gobta… You remember the rules I gave you all before?”
“Y-yes, sir! Absolutely!”
“Good. In that case, could you close your eyes and cover your ears for me? No peeking!”
“Um…? All right, but…!”
Right. Laying out some simple rules for my people, then promptly violating every single one of them three days later wouldn’t exactly make me a role model. But with Gobta out of my hair, I was free once more to take out the garbage.
Just then, the hostile adventurer on the right shifted his gaze, and I followed it. It led to another group, a trio, grinning as they watched the spectacle unfold.
One of my adversaries carried a sword; the other was clad in light armor. Bandits, I figured. The other three consisted of two robed figures—wizards or monks or something—and a big, brawny fighter. If I had to guess, they were all in the same party, and these two were sent over to chase us out and nab our position in line while the other three finished us off and joined the others as if nothing had happened. That kind of thing.
A neat and easy way to pick off the weaker monsters and take their possessions. Nicely planned. Too bad they picked the wrong target!
“Whoa, whoa, back of the line!” I said to rile them up. “I’m feeling generous today, so I’ll let all that slide if you line up out back!”
The duo looked stupefied for a moment. Then their faces turned bright red.
Didn’t take much to tick them off.
“What the hell’re you talking about, you little pissant?” one of them bellowed in his best evil-underling voice. “You wanna start something with us?!”
“You’re dead! I promised you’d live if you just left all your stuff there, but you know what? Now that you’ve pissed me off, that’s off the table.”
Heh. Back in my contractor gig, I pushed people around that looked a hell of a lot scarier than these guys. I had to if I wanted to get any work done. Some of the old rascals even had tattoos all over them. Compared to that, this barely made me break a sweat.
“Little pissant, huh? You mean me?”
“Who the hell else am I talkin’ to? A slime’s the pissiest out of ’em all, man!”
“Get over here! If you’re so eloquent, we’ll make you into our slave instead!”
A monster slave? Do those even exist? Let’s look into that later. The merchants and apparent adventurers around us had started to notice the shouting. Better keep their eyes on me, for starters. I don’t know if the concept of justified self-defense exists in this world…but it wouldn’t hurt to have as much eyewitness testimony as possible.
Too bad it didn’t look as if any of the humans were interested in lending me a hand. Really? If I were a little girl, I bet it’d be a different story.
“Think you can call me a pissant and get away with it, huh? And you just called me a slime, too…?”
“Well, duh! What else are you?”
“Piece of shit… You think I’m gonna let you treat me like an idiot? You’re dead! Too late to beg for your life now, man!”
The two of them drew their weapons. Oop! Off they go.
Man. Talk about a stroke of bad luck, having these guys be the first humans to ever talk to me. Can’t believe how much friendlier the monsters were.
The people around us began edging away to safety. I supposed they wanted to keep from getting involved. The gate guards must have noticed as well, because they were starting to hurry over.
Keeping my eye on them, I casually rolled myself forward.
“Heh-heh-heh… A piece of shit, huh? A slime? Where’d you get the idea that I was a slime, huh?”
I let them fill in the rest themselves.
Of course I was a slime. Anyone would’ve said so.
“What? Cut the crap, man!”
“Yeah! If you ain’t a slime, show me what you really are! It’s gonna be tough to make excuses once you’re dead!”
They were practically waiting for me to transform. Just like I’d hoped! I was sure I could win as a slime, but it was kind of hard to hold back my skills. I’d be liable to slice each of them into two neat pieces with my Water Blades. Toning it down and just knocking them out was harder.
“All right!” I shouted, keeping up the performance. “Allow me to show you my true form!” Then I released the mystical aura I had been covering up. Just a little, of course.
