After what felt like days… or maybe even weeks—Rimuru wasn't sure. Time inside the cave was strange. There was no sun. No moon. Only silence, distant water dripping, and the occasional chuckle of Veldora echoing through his mind.
But finally… something changed.
While Rimuru was exploring yet another corridor of rock and moss, he felt something new—wind. Soft. Gentle. Carrying with it the smell of fresh leaves, wet soil, and life. He followed the draft, inching along with his gelatinous, bouncing body until he spotted it.
A large stone door, ancient and cracked, sat nestled in the side of the cave. Green vines curled around its edges like nature had tried to reclaim it. Rimuru's translucent form squished excitedly forward. "This has to be it!" he whispered in his own head.
But just as he approached, he froze.
Footsteps.
And voices.
"Keep your guard up," one voice warned, low and cautious. "This is the cave where the Storm Dragon was sealed."
Another, more cheerful voice replied, "Yeah, yeah! You worry too much. I heard the dragon disappeared."
A third voice, rough and grumbling, added, "Still… I don't like this place. Let's make it quick."
Three shadows approached the stone door. Rimuru, startled, immediately squished behind a rock formation, his tiny body shivering with a mix of curiosity and nervous energy.
Peeking with just enough of his gooey body, Rimuru saw them: three adventurers. One held a sword with a confident stance, clearly the leader. Another held a staff—likely a magic user. The third, burly and armored, grumbled as he adjusted his shield.
They didn't notice him.
The stone door creaked open as the trio slipped inside, torchlight dancing against the cold walls.
Rimuru didn't wait.
With all the speed he could muster, he flopped toward the exit, a blur of translucent blue jelly. "This is my chance!" he thought excitedly. "Freedom!"
As Rimuru emerged from the cave, his vision was nearly overwhelmed.
Light.
Real, beautiful light. The sky stretched endlessly above him, painted with hues of gold and blue. Clouds floated lazily, birds chirped in the distance, and wind rustled the trees with a sound that made his core tremble with joy.
Before him sprawled the Jura Forest, vast and green, teeming with life. Towering trees rose like giants. Vines dangled from branches, wildflowers bloomed at the roots, and distant howls echoed through the trees. The scent of damp earth, wild herbs, and fresh air filled Rimuru's nonexistent nose.
He bounced forward excitedly, squishing and jiggling over rocks, moss, and small roots.
"I'm outside! I'm really outside!" he thought. "Okay, Rimuru. Let's do this. First goal—make friends. Second goal—survive."
But just as he began exploring, hopping from bush to bush, something rustled nearby.
Leaves shook.
Bushes parted.
And suddenly, a group of creatures stepped out from the underbrush.
They were small, maybe four feet tall, with greenish skin, long ears, and worn-out leather clothes. Some held wooden spears, others rusted daggers. Their faces were nervous, unsure.
Goblins.
Their leader—a slightly older goblin with a limp and a scar across one eye—stepped forward cautiously.
"Wh-What is that…?" one of them whispered, gripping his weapon.
The elder goblin studied Rimuru for a moment longer. And then, to Rimuru's surprise, the goblin fell to his knees. The others followed instantly, heads bowed low.
"Strong one!" the elder cried. "Please, spare our village!"
Rimuru blinked—or at least he tried to. "HUH?!"
The moonlight poured over the Forgotten Dragon Kingdom like silver rain, cascading down cliffs and painting the valley in quiet glow. A crisp wind brushed through the night, and even the mighty mountains seemed to be holding their breath, as if they knew the weight of the conversation that was about to unfold.
Yujiro Hanma sat calmly at the edge of a massive stone terrace, high above the training grounds below. His muscular frame was still like a statue carved by a god, his presence both relaxed and untamed, like a sleeping dragon that didn't need to prove its strength.
Seated next to him was Milim Nava, the Demon Lord of Destruction, her legs swinging lazily off the edge. Her usual playful energy buzzed in the air, but something in her posture said she was serious tonight.
"Hey, uncle Yujiro," she said, her voice as light as a breeze. "So, me and a few other Demon Lords—Clayman, Frey, and Carrion—we've got a little plan."
Yujiro didn't look at her, just kept his gaze on the sky. "Yeah?"
Milim leaned in with a mischievous grin. "We're gonna cause an Orc Disaster. Let it run wild in the Jura Forest. Get rid of all those low-level monsters. With Veldora sealed, there's nothing stopping us."
Yujiro's gaze didn't move, but a small smirk played on his lips. He took a slow sip from the sake jug beside him.
Then, without warning, he spoke—calm, but sharp like a blade.
"You know that forest is also mine… right?"
Milim's expression shifted instantly. Her playful smirk vanished, replaced by wide eyes and a flicker of unease. "Wait… What do you mean it's yours?"
Yujiro leaned forward, his gaze drifting toward the horizon.
"I fought Veldora once. He told me Jura was his domain, that no one could step into it without his permission."
He chuckled quietly, almost like he was remembering a fond dream.
"I told him I was stepping in anyway."
Milim blinked. "And then you two fought?"
Yujiro gave her a smirk that made the mountains feel smaller.
"I beat him to a pulp."
Milim swallowed hard. She knew that story.
"You beat Veldora…" she whispered, her voice barely audible now.
Yujiro nodded slowly. "He's strong. Real strong. But he's not me."
Milim looked away, her fingers fidgeting slightly. The Demon Lord of Destruction—one of the most feared beings alive—felt something she rarely did: a little nervous.
Then she turned back to him, forcing a weak smile. "So… does that mean you're going to stop our plan for the Jura Forest?"
Yujiro didn't answer at first. He just looked back up at the stars. The silence stretched.
Then, with a shrug so casual it felt insulting, he replied, "No. Go ahead. Have your fun."
Milim blinked. "…Really?"
Yujiro turned his eyes on her again. That look—calm, sharp, like steel under velvet—sent a chill through her spine.
"Until I decide for that fun to end."
Milim went quiet. The breeze picked up, rustling the trees far below like a warning.
She stood slowly, floating off the ledge with a swirl of pink energy around her. She didn't say another word as she took to the skies, her expression unreadable.
Yujiro remained seated, his eyes never leaving the horizon.