My diet had become even richer.
Fruit had always been the dessert at every meal, but now cake had been added to the rotation.
Ah, being alive is wonderful. But eating too much would make me sick of it, so I decided to only have cake on special occasions like Sundays and holidays.
A life of fulfillment. When I'd first been reincarnated as a slime, this kind of luxurious lifestyle would have been unthinkable.
If not for the problem of the Eastern Empire, I could devote myself entirely to my hobbies…
Lately, I'd been thinking—what if I gathered some volunteers, me and Veldora among them, and just launched a surprise attack the moment war was declared?
Waiting wasn't in my nature, but more importantly, offense was simply easier than defense no matter how you looked at it.
Defending every possible invasion route would require dispersing our forces, and we probably wouldn't have enough troops. On the other hand, merely posting scouting units and then rushing to intercept once the route was confirmed carried far too much risk.
Invading through the Dwarf Kingdom's territory was essentially out of the question.
The Armed Nation Dwargon, as a neutral state, maintained a standing army equipped with high-grade weaponry.
The entrance and exit points were well-defended, making it unsuitable for a large-scale assault. The nation itself could be called a natural fortress.
There was no sea route. We didn't have enough ships, and the ocean was home to enormous magical sea beasts.
Naval combat in such unfavorable conditions would be far too risky to even consider. Whether we could safely cross the sea at all was uncertain.
For the same reason, the mountain range where dragons dwelled was also off the table.
In the end, the only viable route was through the Great Forest of Jura.
That meant three possible military routes. However, one of them ran along the Dwarf Kingdom's border. Inviting an unpermitted invasion risked a pincer attack from both the Monster Nation and the Dwarf Kingdom, so most people would rule it out.
That left two invasion routes as the most likely options, and splitting our forces to cover both would be the standard approach.
But was it really that simple?
Worrying about it wouldn't help, but if the Empire moved exactly as I predicted, that would mean either they were underestimating the Monster Nation, or they possessed an overwhelmingly massive army.
After all, even with my limited military expertise, I could narrow it down to these two choices.
A war professional wouldn't simply pick the obvious route just because there were no other options.
No—on the contrary, perhaps they hadn't moved precisely because they were assembling an overwhelming force to ensure they had no other option.
If that was the case, splitting our forces against that massive army would be foolish.
I was getting frustrated just thinking about it.
Maybe I should just attack first?
Or rather—wouldn't the right move be to launch a full-scale assault the moment the Empire declared war?
No amount of serious deliberation would yield a definitive answer. The best approach was to adapt on the fly.
Adapt on the fly.
It sounded impressively resolute, and it gave off the image of a capable man.
Yeah, let's go with that.
Just to be safe, I'd assigned reconnaissance missions covering the sea route as well. I'd set up teleportation magic circles at various points.
Long-distance communication and emergency movement preparations were fully in place. They were personal-use only, but sufficient for communication purposes.
If anything came up, I'd receive a report, and I could figure things out then.
Having reached my conclusion, I stood up and headed for the dining hall.
Using my brain made me crave something sweet. I'd decided dessert was reserved for special occasions and holidays, but snacks were a separate matter.
I'd ask
Being easy on myself was one of my best qualities. If I got tired of eating too much, I could just deal with that when it happened.
Exactly.
I promptly reversed my own policy and made my way to the dining hall, where I found
The moment she saw me, a beaming smile spread across her face, and she thrust a plate toward me.
What was this ominous feeling…?
"Rimuru-sama, I've been waiting for you!
You're so cold, Rimuru-sama. If you'd just said the word, I would have made you cake (or something like it)…
Here you go! The taste is just like Shuna's, but several times the portion!
Please, help yourself!"
She was grinning ear to ear, and on the plate she was offering sat a massive block of something that looked like konnyaku.
Wait—cake…!?
I reflexively took the plate and stared at the object on it, glancing around for help.
No one was there. They'd all fled.
It seemed I'd arrived at the worst possible moment.
"Hey, is this actually cake?"
"Yes! The taste has been perfectly recreated!"
Shion was brimming with confidence.
But my bad feeling only grew.
The taste is perfect? Doesn't that mean everything *other* than the taste is terrible?
Regretting my sudden change of policy, I decided to take just one bite.
If I'd just stuck to my original plan, I could have simply waited for dessert after my meal.
I didn't even need to eat in the first place—my stubborn appetite had led me straight into this nightmare.
I scooped some up with a spoon and put a bite in my mouth.
I nearly spat it out.
The texture was konnyaku. The flavor was sickeningly sweet cake.
The color was gray. And the texture was exactly what konnyaku looked like.
That moment, I was reminded that visual presentation was critical for cake. No—for any food, really.
When the raw ingredients stared back at you without any attempt at presentation, no matter how it tasted, it didn't look appetizing.
"How is it? Delicious, right?"
Shion struck a smug look that practically screamed "Perfect, right?" and it irritated me to no end.
This woman had a fundamental problem. First and foremost—what is cooking? That was the baseline she was failing at.
"Sit down. Right there. We're having a lecture!"
"Eh!? Why?"
Her smug expression instantly crumbled into teary-eyed panic, but I wasn't having it.
For the next thirty minutes or so, I delivered a thorough and earnest lecture to Shion on what cooking truly meant.
Having finished my lecture on Shion, I was finally able to catch my breath.
Leaving her alone had been the mistake. Shion had a habit of trying to produce results entirely through her skills without understanding the underlying process. If she kept that up, she'd never grow as a cook.
Whether my lecture had actually sunk in, Shion promised to learn cooking from Shuna.
Wait—hadn't she already been learning from Shuna before? No, no, that couldn't be right.
I was still a little worried, but I decided to consider the matter settled for now.
Changing my train of thought, I stepped out of the dining hall—and ran smack into Kurobei.
"Oh, I was looking for you, Rimuru-sama. Sure enough, this is where you were."
"Hmm? You were looking for me? What's up?"
"Yes, about that commission you made a while back—the new weapon is complete!"
Kurobei reported cheerfully.
A previous commission? There were too many to remember which one he meant.
In any case, I followed Kurobei to the workshop.
The workshop was, as always, sweltering. It didn't bother me since my body was unaffected by temperature, but working in there must have been tough.
It had been a while since my last visit, and the number of people—monsters included—had grown noticeably.
"Looks like you've got more apprentices."
"Yes, thanks to your patronage. But we still have a long way to go. More of them can't produce anything usable than can."
As we chatted and entered the workshop, the apprentices noticed our voices and looked up.
Spotting me, they all shot to their feet and bowed. The suddenness of it startled me.
I glanced at Kurobei, and—
"You idiots! Get back to work, now!"
He roared at the top of his lungs, sending the apprentices scurrying back to their stations.
I could understand how they felt. Having the boss suddenly show up at your workplace was nerve-wracking enough. And I was basically the lowest-tier department's worst nightmare visit.
I didn't personally feel it much, but in this country, I was the king—so dropping by casually might actually be more stressful for them.
At my old company, even a department head visiting for an inspection meant a thorough cleaning starting the day before. And if it was the CEO? The atmosphere made it clear that mistakes were not an option.
The bigger the organization, the more that casually dropping in could end up making people more tense rather than less.
But still…
"Sorry for barging in like this. But I'll probably be stopping by pretty often, so try not to tense up too much."
I called out to them.
Being too familiar could cause problems, but there was no need for them to be on edge over every little thing.
I loved being impressive, but if everyone was so nervous they couldn't even react, that wasn't fun at all.
I preferred goofy, lighthearted reactions—like
My words seemed to ease the tension from the apprentices' shoulders.
Satisfied, I gave a nod and headed toward the back room.
—Incidentally, something I was unaware of at the time: the apprentices' nervousness wasn't solely because I was a Demon Lord. Without my knowledge, I had been chosen as one of the Monster Nation's three top idols. Me, Shuna, and Shion. Astonishingly popular. Apparently,
Anyway, I asked to see the item he'd been working on.
Kurobei produced a storage box containing the equipment with a confident air and brought it before me.
Inside was a powerful-looking broadsword. What was distinctive about it was a small, marble-sized circular hole at the base of the blade.
There were three holes. Otherwise, nothing stood out.
Naturally, the sword's performance as a weapon was solid—this was Kurobei's work, after all—but it wasn't so extraordinary as to outclass everything else. Compared to his apprentices' work, though, it was a different story.
The material was pure magisteel—rare, but not exactly an exceptional resource.
Strange as it was to say, it was a perfectly ordinary Extraordinary-grade weapon.
There didn't seem to be any magic imbued in it either…
"What's this? If it's one of your pieces, it doesn't seem particularly outstanding?"
I asked because I genuinely didn't know.
When Kurobei forged a sword normally, he could produce one per day. The average result was Extraordinary-grade, and even his failures fell into the upper tier of the Rare grade.
When he took his time, it took two to three days per sword, but in that case, he could maintain at least Extraordinary-grade quality without fail.
However, Legendary grade still seemed far out of reach—he'd never succeeded even when carefully selecting materials. That said, if someone skilled used an Extraordinary-grade weapon for several years, it might evolve into Legendary grade through weapon evolution…
So it seemed unlikely that Kurobei would specifically present me with an Extraordinary-grade weapon.
"Fufufu, you don't understand? It's the mechanism you described before, Rimuru-sama.
You take this jewel and set it into the hole in the sword, like so—"
As Kurobei explained, he took one of the marble-like yellow jewels from the box and pressed it into a hole in the blade.
Instantly, what had been nothing more than a plain broadsword transformed into a magic sword crackling with lightning magic.
Th-this can't be!
"Hey—Kurobei! Kurobei! You actually finished it?!"
I grabbed him in excitement.
Kurobei wore a serene smile.
"Mufufufu. I have!"
He replied with a triumphant grin.
Ah, Shion's smug face had irritated me, but this time I wanted to praise him wholeheartedly.
Come to think of it, hadn't Kurobei and
Kaijin had apparently been involved in the research too—this was the fruit of their joint effort.
"Does this ring a bell, Rimuru-sama?
We finally succeeded in directly compressing magicules to refine magic stones of exceptionally high purity.
Depending on the attribute of the magicules imbued, they can be classified into four elements: earth, water, fire, and wind.
We've named these attribute-infused magic stones 'Elemental Cores' or 'Magic Jewels.'
By combining different ones, attribute transformation is also possible, of course. Naturally, the number of combinations is limited by the number of holes.
We're still in the experimental phase, but some combinations appear to be dangerous.
Also, no matter how hard we tried, three holes was the absolute limit.
And even then, perhaps one in a hundred attempts would succeed.
Forging holes into the blade through normal methods turned out to be extremely difficult…
To our shame, the apprentices can't even manage to forge a single hole in a weapon. Only four of my senior apprentices have succeeded in creating one hole.
Well, we haven't given up. With three holes, the weapon achieves power on par with Legendary grade.
I'm certain of it."
Kurobei explained with visible pride.
Incredible. Almost too incredible.
Magic swords were already rare—and a magic sword capable of attribute switching? That probably didn't exist anywhere else.
He'd created something truly extraordinary.
I'd completely forgotten, but this could prove invaluable against the Empire.
Also, since the rarity would vary dramatically depending on the number of holes, it might be fun to set them as boss drops inside the dungeon.
I'd have the apprentices practice forging holes into regular swords as well, and set the successful ones as floor boss drops. For the major bosses every ten floors, I could have them randomly drop Magic Jewels with attributes attached.
Well, that was something for beyond floor thirty. I could set it up starting from floor forty.
"What do you think? Can we produce enough?"
"Yes. I'll start making units to distribute to the captain-class fighters, and the defective ones can be recycled into the dungeon.
There's no way we'd have enough for regular troops, and the higher-quality equipment can be handled by mass production.
There shouldn't be any problems."
"Good. I'm counting on you."
With Kurobei's ready agreement, the plan was settled.
Well, once the dungeon exceeded floor thirty, it started getting seriously punishing.
The floor fifty boss was a full-power, unrestricted Golzry—our next objective as well.
If I didn't crush the Empire first, I couldn't even enjoy my own dungeon. I wanted to bring Chloe there soon and have some peace of mind.
The Empire's Unique Skill was truly the sticking point.
I wanted to resolve this quickly.
"Oh, by the way—about the magisteel I've been tempering for you, Rimuru-sama. How is it progressing?
It should be nearly fully attuned by now, wouldn't you say?"
Kurobei asked suddenly.
Huh? Come to think of it, I'd completely forgotten—but I had been tempering a piece of magisteel in order to create my personal weapon…
"Ah, yes. It's fine. I remember."
"Yes."
"Wait a moment—I'll take it out now."
I scrambled slightly, trying to appear calm so Kurobei wouldn't realize I'd forgotten.
I retrieved the magisteel I'd been tempering inside the stomach of my Predator skill.
The iridescent, rainbow-hued magisteel.
Even though I hadn't mixed in any gold, it radiated a brilliance that surpassed Divine Radiant Steel.
Hmm? It seemed to have matured beautifully.
"Well? Does it look workable?"
"Th-this is—!!"
Kurobei was beyond excited—he was so stunned he couldn't even speak.
Let me appraise it myself, too.
《Analysis. Divine Steel: the ultimate metal.》
Apparently so.
Like an upgraded version of orichalcum.
It was a perfected metal with performance exceeding the Divine Radiant Steel I had refined—a truly finished product.
"Hihiirokane… how remarkable. An eternally unchanging Mythical-grade material."
It attuned to its owner's magicules and repelled magicules of all properties.
It could be repurposed for the strongest weapons and the strongest armor alike—the ultimate metal.
Unfortunately, only a small amount had been produced, infused with an especially concentrated dose of magicules, specifically for weapon forging.
With this quantity, I could only make a weapon for myself.
But finally, I could have my own custom katana.
With ordinary weapons, they'd break before I could unleash my full power. Having to duplicate and forge replacements mid-battle was absurd.
If a weapon might break when push came to shove, it wasn't suitable for protecting oneself.
I handed the iridescent Divine Steel to Kurobei and commissioned him to forge a katana.
Kurobei received it reverently, his eyes gleaming with an unusual intensity—a mix of deep concentration and barely contained excitement.
This was going to be something special.
I left the rest to Kurobei and departed the workshop.
My thoughts drifted to the blade I had yet to see.
And then, one week later.
I received word from Kurobei that the katana had been completed.
At last, my personal weapon was finished.