bookworm

I heard hurried footsteps coming toward us. They didn’t slow down when they reached the door to my office. Instead, the door flew open without a knock.
Only Milim would do this. If anyone besides Milim tried something so rude with me, they’d swiftly face a pummeling at the hands of Rigurd—or in the case of Veldora or Ramiris, no snacks for a week. Today was a special day, however, so I let it slide.
After all…
“R-Rimuru! It’s hatching! It’s about to hatch!”
She had taken to constantly carrying that egg around with her as of late, never letting it go. And she’d been holed up in my nation instead of her own—meaning she wanted easy access to me, in case of complications.
I could tell she was frantic. The avatar core—the egg nestled within the body of Milim’s lifelong friend Gaia—was now beating a rhythm with its faint glow. Clearly, it was a matter of time. Gaia was about to be born as an entirely new sort of monster.
“Kweeeeeeeeeeee!!”
With a few well-placed cracks, a tiny-size dragon burst from the egg. Call it a mini-dragon, if you want—maybe about a foot and a half tall. You’d never guess this was originally a Chaos Dragon.
“…Is that you, Gaia?”
“Kwee, kwee!!”
Girl and dragon hugged each other tight. A tearful reunion.Gaia had wasted no time hatching after Milim burst through the door. Now the greatest danger was past, so presumably she’d be going back home now…or not.
“Right! Time for us to head out on an adventure with Gaia!”
I…was expecting she’d say that, so I had my answer preloaded.
“Isn’t Frey worried about you?”
As Milim’s sort-of guardian, Frey was bound to have a word or two to say about her frolicking around the countryside without her permission. If Gaia was still incubating, that was one thing, but now that the birth went off without a hitch, Milim no doubt had a pile of work waiting for her.
“Wah-ha-ha-ha-ha! No need to worry!”
No need to worry?
Rimuru attacked Milim with Concerned Advice!
But Milim parried the strike!!
I kid, I kid.
But hey, if she says so, I’m not gonna refute her. I had been pretty busy recently cleaning things up post-Maribel. Only now had I regained a little “me” time. Maybe we should all go out and have some fun for a change.
“Besides,” she smugly added, “it’s exactly what she needs. Dragons are apex predators, so she’ll only eat monsters she catches herself, even as a baby. I gotta teach her how to hunt!”
Dragons, she said, didn’t starve that easily. In fact, as long as Gaia had ready access to water and magicules, that was enough to live on. But it wasn’t enough to grow on. If we wanted her to be big and strong, she needed exercise (in the form of battle) and good food (in the form of slain monsters). Hence, Milim explained, the need for a thrilling adventure, right now. To me, it looked like she just wanted to play hooky from Frey again, but in her own way, maybe she was thinking pretty deeply about this.
“All right. In that case, I know the perfect spot.”
“Oh?! The labyrinth, right?”
“You guessed it!”
And in another minute, we kicked off Operation Get Gaia Big & Strong.
But first, we needed some help. I decided to tap Veldora and Ramiris, reassembling the old gang for another labyrinth challenge.
With Gaia among us, we now had a party of five, and even though she was still a newborn, she’d be safe in the Dungeon, or at least much more so than the outside world where God knows what could be waiting for her.
“Kwah-ha-ha-ha! We’re all busy right now, but of course we’ll do you a favor! Feel free to tap upon all my powers!”
“Yes, yes, now that we’re here, you’ve got nothing to worry about! Put your mind at ease—Gaia’s in our hands now!”
I was suddenly very concerned.
…No. It’s all right. Just trust them.
Veldora and Ramiris had matured, after all. They could factor people besides themselves into their decisions. And even Milim understood that this was education for Gaia, not playtime; I doubted she’d let herself run too wild.
“All right, let’s go!”
With my shout, we all Possessed our avatars simultaneously, and our adventure began.
Job one was to power-level Gaia. It was Veldora, Ramiris, Milim, and me, with the flight-capable Gaia behind us. As a dragon—in fact, formerly a Chaos Dragon who could’ve destroyed the world—she couldn’t have been a wimp, and she didn’t disappoint. After just a few battles, she had already begun grasping the general idea, spewing wide-range breath attacks at whole groups of foes. Her Chaotic Breath was a thick, concentrated miasma, tinged with a curse that corroded every type of matter. It was close to Rot (part of Belzebuth’s arsenal) in effect, and it was easily strong enough to keep base-level monsters at bay.
Gaia also bore the earth element within her. This ability, writ into her “soul,” made it possible to control gravity. If the Chaos Dragon released from that seal earlier had any sort of intelligence left… I shuddered to think about it. There’d be Chaotic Breath and gravity fields that weighted on you like boulders all over the joint; the fallout would’ve been far, far worse. But that’s in the past. Now Gaia was Milim’s cute li’l pet and our erstwhile companion, nothing to be afraid of.
Then a Blood Boar appeared, a B-ranked monster with powerful kicks who lurked around Floor 30 and below. Its head and shoulders were protected with hard bone and muscle, its outer hide thicker than steel. It was nearly seven feet long, but it could still head-butt you at speeds up to thirty miles an hour. Nothing to trifle with. Run into one in a long, straight corridor, and you’d be up the creek with no easy escape.
But even someone that dangerous was no foe of ours. Gaia promptly broke out her gravitational magic, slowing the Blood Boar’s charge down. Not missing the opportunity, Milim’s single swipe hit at a weak point, felling the beast. The Blood Boar got its name because its mane was dyed red with its foes’ blood, but now it was a kind of staple food for Gaia. It was a pretty good achievement for day one, and I looked forward to her future growth.
We were now a perfect team.
Gaia had a skill called Gravity Field that potentially reduced the effects of physical attacks. Deploying one alongside my Magic Barrier gave us a good debuff for any magic attacks as well. We developed a few team moves like this over the next few days, and before long, Gaia became the keystone to our party battles.
After that, between on-the-field battle practice and Gaia feeding, we had made it down to Floor 49. Awaiting us was Bovix, the boss that gave us so much unexpected trouble last time.
“Kwaaah-ha-ha-ha! Bovix better prepare to be flattened!”
“Yep, yep! I’ll barely even have to lift a finger!”
“Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Now I’m getting pumped up!”
“Kweeeeee!!”
They were all really into it. What? Wasn’t I, too? Don’t be ridiculous. We’re all pitching in for Gaia’s sake, remember. But…you know…maybe a little. Maybe we were having a little fun. But it’s all for Gaia’s education, okay?
It was with that lofty cause in mind that we left the labyrinth after another day of hard work.
“Looks like you’re having fun.”
Waiting at the door was the spine-freezing sight of Frey, with a friendly smile and a couple bulging veins on her forehead.
“Geh…! F-Frey?! W-wait! No! I can explain all this!!”
I didn’t think it was the first time I heard that line. I wonder why? And I had a feeling the rest of this conversation would seem awfully familiar, too.
“You promised me you’d come home after Gaia was born, didn’t you?”
“N-no! Gaia needs me!”
“Yes, I know she does. But is that a good reason to break your promise?”
“But her training…”
“And just like Gaia, you yourself need some training of your own. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“…?!”
She got her.
It was just beyond Milim’s ability to out-debate Frey. No matter how willful and self-indulgent she was, Milim couldn’t beat her. And I had no intention of grabbing that tiger by the tail, either. Who’d ever want to get caught up in that? I mean, all Frey’s giving her is the cold, hard truth.
Milim wound up resorting to whining and carrying on in the end, but it was all fruitless against the iron wall of Frey’s smile as she dragged her away. Which, well, it was Milim’s fault this time, too, so what could I say? If she’d at least let Frey know first, I doubt she would’ve gotten this pent-up about it, but ah well.
“I’ll come back soon!” Milim shouted as she left, but I didn’t think she’d be able to pull that act a third time. She wasn’t being grounded or anything; I’m sure she had Frey’s permission for regular visits, although maybe not for a bit now. Even Frey knew the dangers of not letting Milim take a breather now and then. That’s why she was going easy, but if Milim kept pressing her luck, who knows what’d happen? Not that I should butt into someone else’s family drama, but maybe I should teach Milim the benefits of keeping your coworkers on the same page at all times.
Such were my thoughts as I saw Milim leave. For now, I’d have custody of Gaia. Her unlimited-use Resurrection Bracelet kept her safe in the labyrinth, and she had a ton of food to eat in there. What’s more, I could set my avatar to auto-mode and have it work in tandem with her down there, helping her train. She’s still a bit young for Milim to take over that process, so we planned to transfer her over once she was strong enough.
I thus had a new labyrinth companion.
By the way, I had no way of knowing this, but our party of five wandering the halls was becoming feared as a unique set of bosses. Rumor had it that they’d present themselves with one of two strength levels—the normal one was troublesome enough, but sometimes they’d ratchet it up even further. Essentially, whenever we directly controlled our avatars, we were treated as a nightmare beyond anyone’s ability. I’d only learn about that a little while later.
If we kept playing down there while Milim was gone, we’d never hear the end of it. She’d tell right away from how our avatars grew while we had auto-mode turned off, and even without that, she had a sixth sense for that kinda thing. It’s like playing with fire.
So let’s go over some of the more serious things I’ve been working on.
One urgent piece of business was establishing rules for our dealings with the Western Nations. As demon lord and leader of the Jura-Tempest Federation, I had final say on pretty much anything within my borders. I left some of that to Rigurd and the rest, but the most important matters required my confirmation.
I had a lot of power, really—our judicial system, legislation, and administration ran on my complete discretion. I held sway over all three, giving me supreme authority over all affairs of state. I was also commander-in-chief, running the main keystone of our nation; one order and I could send the whole army on the march, and any officers could only be appointed with my approval. We were a federation in name only—I was a de facto despot.
Of course, in practice, I spread these responsibilities around a bunch. Our administration was entirely Rigurd’s field, and Benimaru, serving as my agent, enjoyed full control of the military. We were in the midst of fielding talented new people to serve as their assistants.
Meanwhile, Rigurd had been studying the concept of a three-branch government. Rugurd, Regurd, and Rogurd, all former goblin elders, each held the top position in our judicial, legislative, and administrative branches, respectively. But there was a problem. The whole idea of a three-branch system was that every branch had checks and balances over the other. The legislative setup of Japan was no exception. But in our case, the border between legislative and administrative was far too vague, and I had no idea what to do about it.
For one thing, we needed to establish an actual legislature. I decided to divide this into an upper and lower house. I’d name the members of the upper house, and we’d vote on the lower house members—that kind of thing. An appointment to the upper house was for life, unless you caused some kind of problem and were unseated, but only votes could get you into the lower house. Elections, of course, aren’t easy things. It would be a trial-and-error process for us.
It’d be the legislative branch’s sole job to enact laws, and the administrative’s to follow them and run the nation. I wanted our administration to be loaded with talent. Looking at the Japanese government, even if the prime minister changed out pretty frequently, the bureaucrats behind the nuts-and-bolts operation of the country were like steadfast mountains (barring recent events). I needed people with the perseverance to doggedly build up long-lasting policies over time, never throwing in the towel. Long-term projects often grew a lot of fat on them, and administrators could always get bought off and do nefarious things, but I hoped that everyone keeping a careful watch over matters would prevent that.
For these administrative positions, I recommended the elders of the assorted species associated with Tempest. Those too advanced in age to serve could name representatives to fill in for them. Going forward, I thought we’d see this evolve into a meritocracy. For now, we still needed to talk about alleviating opposing interests between races, but in the future, I imagined there’d be more of a sense of unity, of a single nation of Tempestians. It’d take time, but I wanted our nation’s policy to be peaceful reconciliation.
That’s fine and all, of course, but there was an issue. A lot of the talent pool for this kind of thing belonged to the weaker species, while the heads of the more warlike races weren’t suited for working with complex written documents. This was kind of a big problem. Should I focus on our strength as monsters or on our intelligence and willingness to cooperate with humans? The question agonized me.
No matter their muscle, I couldn’t give major authority to the lawless. This was public knowledge around Tempest, and the beefier Tempestians were kind enough to be satisfied with military posts for me. But that meant they had no authority to speak about our administration’s direction, and depending on how our policies went, that might sow some discord later.
Our legislative leaders would gather feedback from the people and stamp their seal of approval on it. But if our administration was run by the brainiest of the brainy among our weaker races, the stronger ones could stand to lose their civil rights. Even now, I could see the discontent that’d result. A government administrator had a heavy task. They had to manage the nation’s budget, taking command over the massive amount of riches flowing into Tempest. Mjöllmile was our top man in finances, but he alone wasn’t enough to catch any discrepancies. Our administration also had to oversee how our land was apportioned out. I wanted proper zoning and development, but that whole process looked easy to muck up. To prevent logjams, they needed the authority to send out orders under my name.
Finally, the judicial system. The judiciary’s most important job was to deliver justice for arrested suspects. Policing came under the authority of the administration, but all three branches would have the power of arrest—one of the checks and balances. The judiciary had to judge them in courts, and that meant it had to be the most impartial branch of all, not listening to public feedback and solely protecting the legal order. Judging by the law, and not from your gut, is a lot harder than it looks, and keeping tabs on that was another consideration that gave me a headache.
So Rigurd and I were studying hard in order to flesh out our three-branch system.
The legislature would listen to the people, talk things over, and enact laws. Being consistent with this would help us pursue an open government. For the administration, we were training Rigurd and other talents to serve as bureaucrats. I also wanted to hurry along the establishment of a law enforcement agency, in order to strengthen the authority of our nation’s core organizations. Benimaru’s military, as well as Soei’s Team Kurayami intelligence unit, answered only to me. To keep from duplicating orders and causing confusion, I decreed that they didn’t need to follow the administration’s commands—along those lines, I planned to appoint a fairly big name to lead our public prosecutor’s office.
That left one more thing: a problem with our judiciary. Running an impartial court could easily make our judges into targets. If I wanted to be thorough with this, I needed people with not just intellectual skill but physical strength. Our judges would have bodyguards, of course, but that still left me with concerns. Anyone who did something like attack a judge out of spite would absolutely get the death penalty, but some attackers may just be willing to accept that. Monsters are far stronger than people. No matter how well guarded you were, you could be lunged at in a flash. Thus, I preferred that our judges had some strength of their own to work with.
“Hmm… In that case, I’d be worried about Rugurd by himself.”
“Indeed. He’s my right-hand man in every way, but in terms of muscle, he’d lose out to an army lieutenant. Rogurd would never let your average youth beat him, but…”
Rugurd could be a calculating schemer, but in his decisions, he was completely above the board. The judge’s bench was the perfect position for him, but if push came to shove, he wasn’t strong enough to defend himself. Rogurd definitely could hold his own one-on-one against an army captain, though. Shame he was already exercising his authority over our assorted government organizations right now. Transferring him to the judiciary would be tough.
“Also, you know, I’d really like to establish a public prosecutor’s office in our administration. Gobta and the gang can keep tabs on criminal activity around the nation, but doing the same for our leaders and legislators is asking a little too much, isn’t it?”
“Yes, you’re right. In addition to our diverse array of monsters, we have a number of well-known magic-born visiting our lands. The Founder’s Festival has attracted many powerful fellows to the city as well. They could potentially cause all kinds of strife.”
The Founder’s Festival had a lot of positive impacts for us. It also attracted a bunch of would-be strongmen with a penchant for violence. That was, in a way, what we aimed for, but some of those fools couldn’t keep their brawling inside the labyrinth. Our security team had beefed up its forces since Gobta’s return, but to Rigurd, that didn’t seem like enough.
“You mean magic-born who are A rank or so?”
“Just a few, but yes. They didn’t show any outward signs of violence, but I do think we should stay on our guard.”
He was right. Better to be prepared. There was wide variance between people’s abilities to fight, so if we waited until a magic-born went berserk, it’d be too late.
“So a prosecutor and a judiciary…and we still need to decide who to send as our Council of the West representative. Everybody’s already got enough on their plates, so I hate to make any unwise personnel shifts…”
“It could lead to potential chaos, indeed.”
Mmm… A lot of headaches. Our systems were starting to fall into place, our laws being enacted…but our mechanism for keeping the whole thing running was still weak. And don’t get me started on all the unfilled posts. I know this is one of the harmful side effects of growing so fast, but what I’d give for some more people…
But no point stewing over people who weren’t there. I needed a change of pace, so I decided to make a couple field trips to our worksites.
Geld’s construction of a new capital for the former Beast Kingdom of Eurazania was proceeding smoothly. All the foundational work was already done—the stakes driven into the bedrock, the magically reinforced concrete kept in place by rebar and steel frames—and seeing it was awe-inspiring.
Magic-infused solid rock provided more merits than simply being sturdier. It emitted its own wavelength of magical force, allowing it to repel lower-level magic. You couldn’t transport it with gravity-reduction spells, which was a disadvantage, but that merit still made it worth the trouble. Once that huge, towerlike palace is completed, it’ll be impervious to most magical attacks, whether from the outside or inside.
On the site, I could see gigantic blocks of cut-out and polished magical rock, several hundred times harder than concrete, lined up in rows. In the middle, supported by this foundation, was a support column that thrust into the heavens; blocks were suspended from it to construct the outer walls. The scale was so gigantic that even this column struck a dizzying presence. People darted around like ants; everything looked out of scale, proving just how massive this structure was.
“Well, hello, Sir Rimuru! Thank you so much for coming.”
Geld ran up to me, grinning as he greeted me. I had used Dominate Space to transport myself here, not wanting to get in the way of things, but Geld must’ve noticed me anyway.
“Hey, Geld. Long time no see. I’m glad to see everything’s going well.”
“Ha-ha-ha! Thank you very much. I’m sure everyone will be delighted to hear that from you!”
His cheerful laughter echoed across the site, much to my relief. He wouldn’t be acting that way if things were awry. You can only enjoy your job if you’re working in a bright, happy atmosphere.
“No, I mean it. This is better work than I imagined. It almost feels like you’ll be done early, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, and I can only think it’s because we’ve all opened up to each other.”
As Geld explained, he had been thinking for a while after our previous discussion. He took his thoughts to the POW magic-born, going around and listening to their complaints and grumbling. If someone just doesn’t care, then nothing you can say will reach their heart. Geld wasn’t the type to rule by force; instead, he started by learning everyone else’s thoughts.
“A lot of them feared their future treatment. Given how they openly warred against you, Sir Rimuru, they worried they’d all be done in once construction was completed.”
“Huh? There’s no way I’d do that.”
“Of course not. We all know you’re not that sort of coldhearted demon lord. But they are new to all this, and they didn’t know your nature, so I imagine they still had their concerns. So I told them all about my own experiences…”
To be exact, he told them about my battle against the orc lord and what became of the orcish armies under him. The magic-born seemed only half ready to believe it, but there were many high orcs on the construction team, and they all backed up Geld’s story, helping ease any doubts.
“Some of them said you were being too much of a pushover, Sir Rimuru. So I said to them, so what? If you can’t even defeat me in battle, how are you going to rebel against a demon lord? That quieted them all down.”
Geld grinned.
If this were Shion or Diablo, they might’ve blown their top and brutally murdered any magic-born who said that. Again, it showed me just how broad-minded Geld was.
So he had managed to open the hearts of our former POWs. Once a week, he said, he rewarded their efforts with wine and a tasty spread. Now they were cooperating as one, all smitten by Geld’s sheer manliness. They really felt like they were being useful, which was the biggest thing of all. If they thought their work wasn’t being recognized, it’d kill their self-esteem.
Hard work not only freed them from being prisoners, it also showed them the joy of a job well done. It should be obvious, but this was far more efficient than any kind of forced labor.
So the higher-level magic-born’s cooperation was providing us with a huge boost. With the increased labor force, we no longer had staff shortages. Work started to just hum along, and so construction was going faster than I expected. Compared with a building job in my old world, the pace was kind of frightening. In fact, there really was no comparison. All this with no heavy machinery, driven by elbow grease alone!
It really made you take a step back—but then again, one look at the worksite quelled all questions. Common sense never applied to magic-born. Some could take weights of several tons and just heft them on their shoulders, all by themselves. Any scrap material or rock could be pulverized with a single fist. Flight was a given with these guys, so safety at lofty heights was never a concern. Any regulations drafted with humans in mind simply didn’t apply.
I just had to nod, in awe, and accept it. No wonder this was going so fast.
And this wasn’t the only building site.
In war, deploying in multiple directions at once is usually ill-advised but not with construction. We decided that a multitiered plan that followed a certain order would be more efficient. It’d train our combat engineers as well, so I left teams of crewmen to our commanders, assigning them areas to cover.
To be exact, we now had four distinct construction departments—one in Dwargon, one in Englesia, one in Eurazania, and one in Thalion.
In Dwargon, we already had a complete highway in place. The inns serving it were finished, the roads widened to allow for a dedicated magitrain rail line. We were even hiring adventurers as day laborers—wherever work’s available, people come soon after, so things were pretty busy over there.
Next, Englesia. Things here were about the same as Dwargon. We had built the highway there on the wider side as well, so rails were being laid down. That work would be completed soon.
Construction over on Eurazania came last. We were expanding the highway right now, taking care to preserve the local ecosystem as we did. Any trees cut down during construction were slated for use in the building of the new capital, so we were fine-tuning our transport logistics.
Thalion, meanwhile, was slow going. We had to start by clearing out forest land, so we were experiencing more delays than I thought. I’d assigned high orcs to handle this task as they were capable of carrying things around via their Stomachs. The high orcs were the most skillful group for this, so simply making a road wasn’t a problem. However, they also had to transport the trees they felled, and that required labor. Once things wrapped up in Eurazania, we planned to shuttle the staff over to Thalion to help out. For now, at least, they would open a path in the forest. We could take our time paving the highway later on. Opening the planned tunnel and installing rails were both projects we decided to put off for later.
That was the state of things in the four regions.
Not everyone agreed with a magitrain line between us and the Dwarven Kingdom. Some people feared the possibility that we’d misread the Eastern Empire’s moves and let information on the project leak out. They could potentially steal the magitrain plans and use them against us in a military invasion, a kind of double-edged sword. We could also have the rail lines we spent so much time on get torn up and destroyed.
Others suggested that we should be focusing our building efforts on things like anti-Empire military outposts. The highway’s largest lodging facility was on the site where the road met the Ameld River; they wanted this reworked into more of a fortress city. I gave it some thought but opted against it. It seemed pointless. There was no telling how the Eastern Empire would move yet, so I hesitated to add further needless work to our plates. Even now, with more workers on hand, we still had tons to do—I didn’t want to divert labor to more low-priority projects.
That didn’t mean we weren’t on alert. We didn’t take action because we assumed the Empire would do nothing—instead, if they ever seriously decided to confront us, we’d simply crush them with everything we had. I had no interest in extended mind games here; it’d be stupid to stay on hyperalert for ages on end. Depending on what they did, I was ready to use our full powers to bring any conflict to a very quick resolution. My cabinet and I reasoned that was the cleanest way to go at it.
Yes, we did need to worry about damage to our railways and so on, but if it happens, we can always rebuild. We couldn’t delay development because we were scared of potential future events—the angels’ attack, for one. No matter who’s confronting us, we weren’t about to step down. If the enemy comes riding in, we annihilate them and start building again.
We needed to consider protecting ourselves, but really, our greatest asset wasn’t things. It’s people. If we keep our workers safe, we’re good. And after pursuing that plan, I found that our construction work was going at a shockingly fast clip.
My final stop on this impromptu inspection trip was the Kingdom of Farminus.
As promised, Yohm had recruited a team to handle the preliminary work for a magitrain line. They had picked sites for the rail line, according to the report I read, and surveying had just been completed. I figured they’d get to work on that after the harvest season was over, but Yohm—or Mjurran, really—made this a bigger priority.
“Why wouldn’t I?” she said with a smile. “We know how rich we can get off the foreign currency we receive for our crops. If we should ever have a famine, that’s enough money to easily provide food support. I would absolutely hate to see your magitrains ready to deploy and us without any railways to support them.”
She was more passionate about the project than I was. As the queen of Farminus, she was now taking an active policy making role for her kingdom.
“Ha-ha-ha! Guess I don’t even have to be here, eh? This is more up Rommel’s alley anyway. He’s runnin’ things on-site.”
Yohm grinned as he introduced me to Rommel, a man I had seen a few times before—the sorcerer on Yohm’s team during his adventuring days, if I recall. He looked nervous as he updated me on their current status, unfurling a map detailed enough to be classified material and explaining in detail where the highway would go. It had all been surveyed to the level of detail I requested, and I had promised to make the final checks, so I quickly headed over, examining the whole path before the day was through.
“There’s still a few kinks we need to work out, but overall it makes the grade. You wrote down exactly who’s responsible for each section, right?”
“Yes, Sir Rimuru, we’ve procured everything as you outlined to us.”
“Okay. Then have the people running this section, this section, and also this section investigate these spots for me again.”
It seemed to me personnel training was going well here. They had a complete project map in place, all within permissible levels of accuracy. Some of the teams weren’t quite all there yet, but I could tell they were diligently studying their craft. If they could look things over one more time, I was sure they’d recognize their own mistakes. A bit of tough love, maybe, but I couldn’t get lazy here. Maybe we’d have computer precision if I did everything, but that’d be meaningless. I wanted them to earn the achievement of doing this themselves. It’d help raise the next generation of engineers.
At this rate, I didn’t think the fixes would take much time. We could likely push construction up a bit. I’d probably need to ask Kaijin soon to get our automatic magical generators ready for them. These generators were real impressive, all but guaranteeing the safety of travelers on the highway to Blumund. Since they operated as stone slabs reacting to magicules, they served as guideposts for the highway as well. Tempest’s visitors liked them a lot, as did our soldiers who ran the highway patrol. The magicule count around Farminus wasn’t as high as the Forest of Jura, but we planned to put the generators in regardless.
Yohm and his court gave us a warm welcome that day.
“I gotta love how you’re still swaggerin’ around by yourself everywhere. Doin’ whatever ya want, huh, pal? I’m jealous.”
The drunken Yohm seemed pretty serious about that. But he misread me. I wasn’t alone.
“I’ve got Ranga with me, actually.”
“You called, Master?!”
He popped his face from out behind my shadow.
“Whoa! You were there? You startled me…”
“I’m sure he did. I doubt many people could hope to lay a finger on a demon lord, but it is the duty of any humble servant to be concerned for his master’s safety. It is true for me as well, my liege, and I hope you will consider acting more like the king you are.”
“Yeah, sure, Edgar. You know I’m gonna be free of this job once yer grown enough, right?”
Edgar was the son of Edmaris, the previous king. He seemed intelligent enough, and I certainly couldn’t doubt his lineage. Yohm, apparently, still felt a little like he usurped the throne of his own country, so he was keen on naming someone from the mainline royal family as his crown prince.
“Don’t be silly, Your Majesty! You know Queen Mjur is with child, and it is only natural that they will inherit the throne next! And it is my humble dream to serve this new ruler someday, so please refrain from any statements that could be interpreted as encouraging a succession battle!”
It sounded like Edgar had no interest in being king. But suddenly I wasn’t so concerned about that.
“Whoa, wait a second. Did you just drop some big news on me?”
I was about to give Ranga a big, meaty bone when my hand stopped. Queen Mjur was with child? Yes, it was pretty simple for a human and a high-level magic-born to produce offspring, but…
“Your Majesty,” Edgar began with a roll of the eyes, “after everything Sir Rimuru has done for you, you still haven’t informed him of the pregnancy?”
“Aw, but I was too embarrassed—”
“And it seemed awkward for me to break the news, so…”
Those two really were made for each other. But didn’t monsters and magic-born get weaker upon giving birth? Would Mjurran be okay?
“That won’t be a problem,” she briskly replied. “I was originally human, after all. And I may weaken, yes, but at this point in my life, strength means little. I’ll retain all my magic and knowledge, so it will hardly be much of a hindrance.”
“And by the way, that Gruecith still ain’t recovered from the news. Guess it was too much of a shock for the guy…”
Ah. I was wondering why I hadn’t seen him at all. But hey, there’s plenty of fish in the sea, y’know? Not that it was for me to comment on anyway. There’s never really been a significant other in my life. It’s something Gruecith’s was gonna have to tackle himself.
“Well, um, my condolences to him. Are your knight corps doing okay despite that?”
Diablo had managed to tame the bloodthirsty rebel forces of the past. I didn’t think there was much to worry about, but if their captain was in that state of affairs, it gave me pause.
“Ahhh, it’s going fine. His pals are still around, and I tell ya, Razen’s really pullin’ his weight, too. Livin’ legend is right, I guess. He’s constantly impressin’ me.”
Oh, right. Razen was here. Diablo had made a servant out of him, but it sounded like he was working hard in Farminus. Of course, Diablo’s unique skill Tempter had forged a mortal contract between the two of them, so a betrayal from him was out of the question.
“Yes,” said Edgar, eyes shining like the boy he was, “and Sir Razen’s still got the energy to go around the country, inspecting and observing matters. He contacts us magically on regular occasions, and if the weeds of unrest ever show themselves, he immediately uproots them for us!”
It sounded like Razen was pretty popular in Farminus. To me, who had mostly just heard about him, I thought Razen did some pretty inhumane things—but when it came to protecting his nation, he was absolutely the man to count on.
I saw no need to dredge up past issues, so I listened to Edgar describe him. It was interesting, hearing about things from someone else’s perspective. The winners write the history books, as they say, and the losers come out with nothing. To the citizens of Farminus, though, King Edmaris and Razen were the good guys. If I had lost the battle against the Farmus forces, right now I’d be touted as a fiendish warlord leading an apocalyptic horde of monsters. I didn’t want to look down on anyone, but that’s the kind of freedom winning got you.
Along those lines, the new nation Yohm established could be classified as a pretty big success. The more talented people in office beforehand were still maintaining their roles, keeping the nation well administrated and discontent at a minimum. They were also controlling the media to keep us from gaining a bad reputation, and Tempest was now seen as a friendly partner. At this rate, any prejudice against monsters was bound to dissipate over time. Diablo’s talents really shone here, I think. He gave me pretty much the exact results I wanted. I guess he’s just that good at reading people.
So everything was going according to plan. That gladdened me, and I rounded out the night talking merrily with Yohm and everyone else.
While I was at work, Ramiris and Veldora were apparently tackling something of their own. Once I returned from my inspection run, they were waiting together to greet me. With them, it’d either be a major problem or something they wanted to brag about, and this time it was the latter.
“We’ve done it, Rimuru! We’ve competed our test unit. If the tests end successfully, we can begin mass-producing these with haste!”
“Mm-hmm, mm-hmm! And lemme tell ya, I’m brimming with confidence about this! C’mon, check it out!”
I let them hurry me along.
Tempest currently had several research sites in operation. One was the workshop of Kurobe and his apprentices, open to the public. Much of their R and D was stuff that had no value if stolen, unless you had someone with Kurobe’s talents. The special weapons I enlisted them for were an exception, but for the most part, we revealed all the weapons and armor created in there. A little advertising never hurt, and we had decided to release this stuff with a splash, introducing a spring line and everything. I wanted to mold “Kurobe” and “Garm” into real, established brands someday.
But we were headed elsewhere, to a facility handling a range of research kept classified by the government. We needed an easily guardable site that regular people couldn’t get inside, and so we focused on inside the Dungeon.
On Floor 100 was Tempest’s publicly funded R and D center, led by Gabil, along with individual research spaces for Ramiris, Veldora, and me. We had another large facility on Floor 95, inside the park we established on that level. The beastman refugees were no longer there, and we had a huge amount of space, so I figured we may as well take advantage. We had alchemists from Dwargon, sorcerous researchers from Thalion, and vampire researchers with too much time on their hands from Lubelius assembled in Tempest, and we needed a large-scale facility to house them all.
Each of them brought their own specialized talents. The dwarven alchemists were gifted in spirit engineering, the field that birthed the magic-armor soldier project Kaijin and Vester were once involved with. In this world, natural phenomena were thought of as tied to the spirits—the five base elemen