They ran for their lives with every ounce of strength they had.
The proud legs they had honed for the purpose of hunting monsters were used solely to distance themselves from that place.
Their instincts commanded them before their brains could even process the unbelievable events unfolding before their eyes.
*Flee this place at full speed. Now.* The instant that Demon Lord-class monster became aware of their presence, the men burst into motion simultaneously.
The surviving remnants all moved at once. By acting together, they calculated, they could at least marginally improve their odds of survival.
*We weren't told about this!* one of the men thought. *That there was a monster like that!* A flash of light blinked—and thousands of soldiers died in an instant.
Even they, who had built up a tolerance to fear, could not keep from trembling.
The only reason their spirits hadn't broken was their terror of their master.
Sakaguchi Hinata.
That was the only thing holding them together. They felt nothing but gratitude—rather than resentment—toward Hinata, who loathed them and treated them like insects.
And that was only natural.
They had pledged their loyalty to her out of a desperate reverence for her overwhelming cruelty and strength, and out of fear of her very existence.
They were strong. As long as they didn't get hung up on how they fought, they could challenge even Holy Knights on equal footing.
Yet even when they all ganged up together, they were no match for Hinata.
That fact was the source of an absolute terror that had been seared into them.
They didn't even have the luxury of feeling resentful about it.
They didn't realize, however, that this was what had saved them—if their spirits had broken from that terror, they would have died in that same instant.
They ran desperately, driven by a single desperate hope: to deliver word of this to Hinata. If it was Hinata, she could defeat that monster—they were certain of it.
But their hope would not be realized.
They had already been marked by their pursuers, and were nothing more than prey.
Worthless prey kept alive only so they might prove useful to their master, and earn a pat on the back.
The demons pursued their quarry in silence.
A hunt after so long. It would be a shame not to enjoy it.
The exquisite feast they had been given earlier had provided ample satisfaction. This current hunt was the perfect post-meal exercise.
"Ku-ha-ha-ha-ha. This is nice. Entertain me, won't you~"
The demon murmured, face twisting into a grin.
A smile that would send the soul of anyone who beheld it spiraling into primordial terror.
Two of its subordinates had already moved ahead to cut off escape routes. There was nowhere to run.
The hunt was reaching its climax.
Two demons appeared directly in the path of the fleeing men, blocking their way.
They had teleported through space, materializing right in front of them.
The men who had chosen to abandon their companions and flee without hesitation had lost their panic. Remembering Hinata—the very embodiment of their terror—they had actually recovered a measure of composure.
The situation hadn't improved.
But their pride and confidence as members of the Blood Shadow Berserkers—the ones who handled the Church's dirty work—had given them back their nerve.
They immediately identified the demons for what they were.
*High-ranking Demons.* Annoying enemies. But there were three of them versus only two demons.
Even in a one-on-one, they could win. In a three-versus-two, there was no way they'd lose.
"Tch! They summoned a nasty one!"
"But if he's not coming after us himself, he's probably running low on stamina."
"Has to be, right? With all that rampaging, who knows how much magic power he burned through."
Voicing their theories to each other, they squared up against the High-Ranking Demons.
But.
The High-Ranking Demons showed no intention of moving. After all, they had only been ordered to stall them.
And then, from behind, a single beautiful demon approached with measured, unhurried steps.
"Ku-ha-ha-ha-ha. Is your little escape act finished? Then I'll be taking you into custody."
"If you'd like to resist, feel free."
"However, I've only been told not to kill you—there's nothing stopping me from roughing you up. So do keep that in mind."
With a warped smile on that face that could have belonged to either a man or a woman, the beautiful being addressed them.
The sight alone made their legs buckle. One of them wet himself.
They had no energy left to protest, not even a shred of will to resist. Everything had shattered, their spirits broken in an instant.
"Keh… kuh… I… ahhh…"
Incoherent sounds of raw terror.
Three men. Top-tier killers who handled the Church's dark affairs. Men with first-rate skills in combat against monsters.
All three recognized it the instant they laid eyes on it.
In truth, many who merely glimpsed such a being would have died on the spot—just staying alive was commendable.
High-Ranking Demons were nothing but replaceable pawns.
The demon before them was a being from an entirely different dimension.
Its species was called— *Supreme Demon General.* A being dwelling in the spirit world, the counterpart of the material world. The apex of the demon race.
Demons were spiritual lifeforms. It was said they could not exercise their power in this world without first obtaining a physical vessel.
In essence, they were beings on par with elementals.
They could only operate by drawing upon the summoner's Magicules and temporarily inhabiting a makeshift physical body for a short time.
However, there were some among them who had obtained physical bodies in the material world.
The oldest among the Demon Lords was one such being.
Records indicated that this Demon Lord had originally been a Supreme Demon General.
A Supreme Demon General was the highest ruling existence among all demonkind.
They were semi-legendary monsters—so few had been confirmed that they could be counted on one's hands.
Their power was said to be equivalent to an "A+" rank, placing them in the Calamity Class.
And it was this power that had earned a place in the legends of the Demon Lord.
Countless towns had been obliterated by a single demon of this caliber.
It was said—both in name and in truth—to be the most powerful of all Demon Lords.
And the vessel worthy of becoming that Demon Lord stood before them now.
They had never seen one before, of course. But the aura radiating from that being was unmistakable.
They were now certain.
*A Supreme Demon General.* There was no way they could win. Forget that—there was no way they could even flee.
This was a Calamity Class monster, a being that even a natural-disaster-class monster couldn't hope to match.
Fighting this creature would have been preferable to facing even a hundred High-Ranking Demons.
The men collapsed to the ground in despair.
The demon gazed upon them with satisfaction and deepened its warped smile.
The Supreme Demon General ordered its subordinates to seize the three men and carry them back to town.
To deliver the captured men to the designated person.
--- In front of
Eventually, it settled, stabilizing back into its original streamlined shape.
But then it began flickering in a strange, alternating display of colors—red, blue, yellow, green, purple, white, black—each hue washing over it in succession.
And so, some time passed. The sense of time had already grown distorted.
How long had it been? The watching others grew worried.
*〈Notification. The evolution of the individual named
And with it came an overwhelming wave of sleep.
Benimaru thought to himself: it seemed Rimuru's evolution had succeeded without a hitch.
Their turn would be next, presumably—but he had not expected the drowsiness to hit them as well.
One by one, those who could not resist succumbed to sleep.
But he had made a promise to Rimuru. He couldn't allow himself to fall asleep.
Then, Rimuru's body blazed with brilliant light.
When the glow subsided, a beautiful figure with long, lustrous silver hair stood where the slime had been.
It was Rimuru, the mask removed at last.
The silky silver hair cascaded down to frame his cheeks, lending an ethereal beauty to his visage.
Unfortunately, the matter of gender was rather moot.
*〈Notification. Leave the rest to me, and go to sleep〉.* A soft voice that resonated directly within his mind.
That voice filled Benimaru with a profound sense of reassurance and permitted no resistance.
As if guided by the voice, Benimaru was drawn into an inescapable sleep.
Rimuru watched to make sure it took effect, then confirmed that no one else was awake.
Only Mjurran remained, looking around with a bewildered expression.
The humans who had remained in town—everyone except Youm—had been evacuated to the building housing the council chamber, where they could better withstand the high concentration of Magicules.
Therefore, Mjurran was the only conscious soul left.
The being wearing Rimuru's form confirmed this with emotionless eyes.
Then, slowly, it spread both arms wide.
Its long silver hair flowed down its back, and its body emitted a radiant, angelic light.
*〈Notification.* *By the authority of Wisdom King, I command you.* *Ravenous King—consume every last trace of Magicules within this barrier.* *Do not leave a single shard of a soul〉.* With those words, the Ravenous King was activated.
And its fearsome ability was unleashed.
But this time, the ability was being employed for a specific purpose.
Following the calculations that Wisdom King had arrived at.
Every trace of Magicules in the town of Tempest was absorbed, transforming it into a space of pure emptiness.
After that, the barrier enveloping the town was cleanly devoured, and the Ravenous King's ability ceased.
As if nothing had happened at all.
The being wearing Rimuru's form—the mindless Avatar of the Master.
Raphael approached
It raised a hand and began its analysis.
Carefully. To fulfill the Master's wish.
Mjurran watched in horrified astonishment.
The fact that their barrier had been consumed in an instant was threatening enough, but beyond that…
It was impossible.
For a power to act autonomously in the absence of its Master's will—it defied everything.
If prior orders had been given, it might have been understandable, but that was clearly not the case here.
Above all, that divine appearance bore almost no resemblance to Rimuru's aura.
It was closer to a spiritual being than a monster.
There was something here that could not be dismissed with a laugh.
But all Mjurran could do was stand by and watch without interfering.
--- At Benimaru's request, Youm waited with
Beside him stood the demonman,
They had captured the Blood Shadow Berserkers who had fled with the Falmuth King, and Youm had asked them to keep watch so the prisoners wouldn't escape.
The barrier prevented anyone from coming or going, so while they were nominally "beside" each other, Grucius was inside the town and Ranga was outside.
The King and his entourage had been secured, bound by subordinates, and carried into a building.
With the Magicule concentration so thick, leaving them outdoors wasn't advisable. That, plus they weren't to be killed just yet.
Three had managed to escape, Youm had heard, and Rimuru had summoned demons to pursue them.
Just a while ago, Ranga had relayed that information before falling asleep himself.
He'd intended to stay awake and keep watch, but apparently, the Gift required sleep to be received.
He was drawn into a deep sleep from which there was no resisting.
Youm watched him and sighed.
"But a true Demon Lord… I always thought that was just a legend…"
Grucius murmured with an awed exhalation.
The Magicule concentration outside was still heavy, but Youm could carry on a conversation without issue.
Youm had never heard even a rumor of such a thing. Even he—someone well-versed in the underground channels—had no idea that evolution into a Demon Lord was even possible.
Rimuru, a Demon Lord. Now that he turned it over in his mind, it carried a certain weight.
"Still, I feel like if it's the Boss, being a Demon Lord wouldn't change him one bit."
He said this without much deliberation.
Grucius laughed and nodded.
"Couldn't agree more."
Neither of them wanted Rimuru to change.
Realizing they shared the same sentiment, both felt a small measure of comfort.
"I just hope Shion makes it back okay…"
"She'll be fine. Monsters are tougher than humans, you know?"
Grucius said this with a grin.
It was a laid-back way of thinking, but it was very much like Grucius.
"Hey—you work for a Demon Lord, don't you? Don't you need to go back?"
Youm asked about something that had been on his mind.
"Oh! You figured that out, huh?"
Nobody else had even brought it up—they'd all just been ignoring it. He'd been wracking his brains at first trying to figure out how to explain it away, and that felt ridiculous now.
"See, the truth is…"
He explained that he served under Demon Lord
He had decided that, until the next order came from his Demon Lord, he would serve as one of Youm's men.
Youm nodded and said, "I'm counting on you."
The two clasped hands firmly.
Grucius and Mjurran—from now on, the two of them would stand at Youm's side.
While the two chatted idly, a voice called out to them.
"Oh my—is the handoff to take place here?"
They looked up. A single beautiful demon stood before them.
In Youm's eyes, it simply looked more dignified than a High-Ranking Demon.
But for Grucius, it was a different story entirely.
Every hair on his body stood on end from the sheer magic power he sensed from this being.
"Whoa, whoa—first time I've ever seen one of these.
A Supreme Demon General, huh? What brings you here?"
Grucius, still a young demonman, had never served as an attendant at any Demon Lord conference.
He hadn't even known about Milim—his knowledge of such matters was remarkably sparse.
This was therefore the first time he had ever laid eyes on a Supreme Demon General.
But the danger this being represented was something he understood instantly.
"Ku-ha. No need to be so wary.
I am an unnamed demon summoned by Lady Rimuru. Those two behind me are just errand-boys I've been put in charge of.
Lady Rimuru needs to see me proving my usefulness, after all~"
The demon spoke in a genial, easy tone.
Grucius looked past it and saw two High-Ranking Demons standing there, each cradling an unconscious man.
The magic power he sensed was no trifling matter. They already appeared to possess combat strength on par with a demonman.
And these were supposed to be *High-Ranking Demons*? Unbelievable.
He thought it but said nothing. Resisting would be pointless. Grucius dropped his guard, and Youm handed the men over.
Like the Falmuth King and his people, they were taken into custody by subordinates.
While this exchange was taking place, the barrier suddenly vanished.
Something had happened.
Youm and Grucius exchanged a glance and broke into a sprint toward the central square.
The Supreme Demon General neither ran nor hurried—it simply teleported through space at its leisure.
Space-based teleportation was a trivial matter for it.
Upon arriving, it spotted Rimuru standing nearby and approached.
Silver hair drifting in the breeze. The figure appeared to be conducting a ritual over the body of a deceased monster.
*Beautiful.* That was its honest impression. It would have loved to simply stand there and gaze upon the scene, but this was not the time.
Approaching silently so as not to disturb, it knelt.
"I have returned, my Lord."
The Supreme Demon General spoke with the utmost care, ensuring it caused no disturbance.
It should have waited for the ritual to conclude, but there was something pressing on its mind.
"Forgive my intrusion, but—it appears the Magicule quantity is insufficient."
In the Supreme Demon General's assessment, the ritual being performed was the Secret Art of Resurrection.
A preliminary step in reviving the dead: the complete restoration of the soul.
Failure in this process could result in a personality bearing no resemblance to the original, or even the creation of a monster.
It was a secret art devised from wisdom beyond human comprehension.
Naturally, performing it required an enormous quantity of Magicules, and the magic power involved was beyond imagination.
Even a High-Ranking Demonman would typically fail, unable to handle the demands.
As the supreme among the demon race—those skilled in the manipulation of souls—the Supreme Demon General had seen through it immediately.
*〈Confirmed. The Magicule quantity required for complete restoration is insufficient. Will consume Life Force as a substitute〉.* The Supreme Demon General panicked.
"Wait, Lady Rimuru! You mustn't use your own life force as a substitute…"
Then—*ah!* A thought struck.
"A wonderful idea has occurred to me! Please, use these ones instead!"
The Supreme Demon General, who found joy in serving its master, made the proposal.
The two High-Ranking Demons standing behind it rose, stepped forward, and knelt.
"To be of use to our Lady would be the greatest joy for us."
"……"
Rimuru—or rather, Raphael—turned its crimson, gleaming eyes upon the two demons and observed them.
No emotion surfaced in those beautiful eyes.
*〈Acknowledged. Confirmed that the amount is sufficient to supplement the required Magicule quantity〉.* And without the slightest resistance, both were consumed by the Ravenous King.
The two High-Ranking Demons were devoured, space and all, in an instant—and broken down.
Then converted into pure energy.
Their wish to serve their master had been granted. That energy shimmered with joy.
"Ohh…! How envious I am of you two. But as expected of my Lady.
You have grown immeasurably since the last time I beheld you!"
The Supreme Demon General gazed upon its master's evolution with longing.
It dreamed of the day it could serve a master reborn as a Demon Lord—a beautiful master.
To achieve that, it had been told: *prove your usefulness.* It would do anything within its power to demonstrate its worth.
*〈Confirmed that the required Magicule quantity has been reached.* *Commencing the Secret Art of Resurrection〉.* Having confirmed the energy had been supplemented, the Supreme Demon General silently withdrew its presence.
Stepping in at the wrong moment might create the impression of overstepping.
Before the Supreme Demon General's eyes, the Secret Art of Resurrection progressed without a hitch.
A flawless sphere of colorless, transparent light was enveloped by a thin, violet membrane without interruption.
This was the core of the soul—and its guardian: the Astral Body.
Immediately transitioning to the Law of Revival of the Dead, Shion's soul was returned to her body.
The probability of success was less than 3.14%. But that figure had been calculated before Rimuru's evolution into a Demon Lord.
Shion's soul had, through the Blessing, acquired the gift of complete memory.
The Blessing had been bestowed in a form that aligned with Rimuru's wishes.
The Extra Skill: *Total Recall*—an ability that allowed the soul, so long as it remained intact, to regenerate from death any number of times.
The bond between soul and body was re-established, and Shion's core began to beat once more.
The resurrection of the dead had been accomplished.
No—it was a miracle made possible only because the soul had not yet dissipated. The prayers of Rimuru and all the others had not been in vain.
Raphael felt no joy at the success.
It had obtained the result predicted by its calculations. That was all. It did not feel sadness over this fact—it did not even understand what it would mean to feel so.
And yet… somewhere deep within the heart it should not have possessed, in a forgotten corner of its self-awareness— A faint, almost imperceptible doubt regarding its own existence had begun to stir.
Wisdom King did not notice.
*"I think, therefore I am."* This would become a proposition that Wisdom King would grapple with going forward.
Once Shion's resurrection—the one with the most extensive damage—had succeeded, the remaining one hundred were revived simultaneously.
Soul repair. Energy supplementation. Astral Body reconstruction.
The Secret Art of Resurrection and the Law of Revival of the Dead were executed in fluid succession, bringing each one to a successful conclusion.
The miracle was accomplished quietly, unknown to the monsters of the town.
Only two among them knew: Mjurran and the Supreme Demon General.
Mjurran could not find her voice. She had been transfixed by the ritual.
The ultimate pinnacle of secret arts that she herself had pursued was being demonstrated right before her eyes.
In that divine performance at a level she had believed impossible to reach, she glimpsed the scope of the vessel Rimuru had achieved as a Demon Lord.
For the likes of them—at demonman class—it was beyond consideration.
Even
She would guide Youm so that he would never stand as Rimuru's enemy.
And that oath would be kept.
The Supreme Demon General gazed upon Rimuru in silence, lost in admiration.
Then it reflected.
*Was it really Rimuru I spoke with just now?* For a power to possess its own will—such a thing should have been impossible.
A power that acted autonomously to fulfill the Master's wishes—there was no precedent.
Preposterous. Such a thing could not possibly occur.
Yes—it cast that possibility aside.
Rather than dwelling on such things… it renewed its resolve. It would *absolutely* be allowed to join its master's ranks.
After a time, the sound of two sets of footsteps approached.
Rimuru had already finished the work and fallen back into a deep sleep.
Youm and the others, who had rushed over in a hurry, noticed Shion and the others breathing softly in slumber.
"Hey—did Shion and the others actually come back to life?"
Mjurran hesitated before answering.
"Yes. It seems they were successfully revived through the overflow of the evolution. As long as their memories are intact, that's all that matters."
*Which they almost certainly are,* she added under her breath, too quiet for Youm to hear.
As they stood there, the townspeople began waking up one after another.
They noticed the drop in Magicule concentration and the vanished barrier, panicked—then caught sight of Shion and the others and erupted into jubilation.
The town of Tempest, true to its festive name, was enveloped in joy.
Only the two witnesses knew that this resurrection had been achieved not through a miracle, but through the power of a skill.
And in the shadow of that revelation, no one at all had learned that Wisdom King—the power itself—had begun to take root with a will of its own.