Morning came.
Along with it… a headache I didn't ask for.
Naming Fenral last night?
Absolutely idiotic.
Also? Incredibly effective.
Turns out the mutt was already on the verge of evolution—so when I dumped both my own and Veldora's magicules into him?
Well…
"...You get this monster." I muttered, squinting up at the towering 20-foot creature now lording over the corralled goblins and his fellow wolves like they were beneath his notice.
Where once his fur had been dull grey, now it was an obsidian black so dark it swallowed the light around it, with a thick crimson mane cascading from his shoulders like fire licking through shadow. His body pulsed with power, lean muscle coiled beneath his hide like steel cables. His eyes? Deep and ember-red, glowing faintly like the last breath of a dying fire.
He didn't look like a wolf.
He looked like something that had clawed its way out of hell.
"...Great," I grumbled, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I just broke the balance of power this early in the story."
Thanks to Fenral surrendering alone, his pack didn't follow him into this evolution, so I avoided the disaster of creating an entire army of abyssal monsters. For now.
A low thoom echoed beside me as Fenral's tail casually swept the ground, jostling the wooden platform we stood on. Or maybe it wasn't casual. Hard to tell with him.
"Master, is something amiss?" Fenral rumbled. His voice was like volcanic gravel — low, rough, commanding. It vibrated through my bones and probably triggered a minor tremor somewhere.
I side-eyed him. "Aside from the fact that you're giving the goblins heart attacks just by existing? No. We're fine."
The wolf dipped his head in solemn acknowledgment, tail finally stilling. The goblins and lesser wolves, however, were still too petrified to even twitch.
He was too loyal. Like a sentient tank with the soul of an old war general. Reliable? Absolutely. Terrifying? Also yes.
I turned to the gathered crowd — a hundred goblins on one side, one hundred fifty direwolves on the other.
…Well. This is a problem.
I internally winced as I noticed the ratio. "Ehh…"
There were more wolves than goblins, and while the children could count eventually, I sure as hell wasn't letting some toddler goblin babysit a grown battle beast.
Standing beside me was the goblin chief — still grinning like an idiot, proudly waiting for his 'reward' for not dying last night.
"Right. Since the battle's over," I said, raising my voice slightly. "Let's talk about the future."
All eyes on me. Good.
"I'll be pairing each of you up."
Blank stares.
I sighed. "It means one goblin gets one direwolf companion. If there are more wolves than goblins, some of you get two."
As if on cue, the moment I clapped my hands, chaos erupted.
Goblins and wolves ran around like it was the village's first ever game of "the ship is sinking." I watched with growing amusement as they scrambled to pair up, some practically fighting to claim the bigger wolves, while others seemed satisfied with just not being eaten.
Eventually, order settled. Those with multiple wolves stood up straighter, proudly flexing their new status. The rest looked content, or at least not in mortal fear anymore.
"Good," I said. "That's teamwork. Now—names."
That froze them again.
"I don't like calling you all 'my people' without knowing who's who," I continued, watching their faces pale. "So I'll be naming all of you."
A collective gasp echoed.
"A-Are you certain, Master Akuma?" one goblin stammered.
Before I could answer, Fenral growled lowly, his massive fangs bared.
"You question the will of the Master?" His voice was thunder.
The poor goblin — Rigurd — dropped to his knees so fast I thought he'd break something. "N-No! I dare not!"
"…Hey, Fenral," I muttered under my breath, "ease up."
Fenral lowered his head slightly. "My apologies, Master. I merely enforce what is just."
That's definitely tyrant logic, but I'll allow it.
I let out a sigh and turned back to the goblins. "Yes, I'm sure. As of today, you are under my protection. My people. So I'll need to address you properly."
They exploded into cheers. Literally. You'd think I just handed them the entire forest and a buffet.
Good. Stay happy. Stay worshipful. We've got a bunch of beautiful girls to meet later and I want to skip the morale dip.
I started with the old goblin chief.
"Your name will be Rigurd, in memory of your late son. Live up to it."
The goblin's eyes trembled as he burst into tears. "T-To be named after my son…! I… I am not worthy!"
Yeah, well, it wasn't even my idea. I just copied Rimuru.
If I made up my own, you'd all be running around with names like Kevin or… Peanut Butter Sandwich.
…Which I might still do, actually.
I moved on.
"You," I said to the scout leader, "will be Rigur. Try not to die like the first one."
"I—! I cannot thank you enough!" he blubbered. "To bear my brother's name—!"
Okay, yeah, cool, stop making me feel guilty.
Down the line I went, naming every goblin I saw. Families came up with ideas together, while orphans got whatever popped into my head at the time.
I'm not proud of it, but somewhere in the village now lives a goblin named Peanut Butter. I'm sorry, little guy. I just panicked.
Names like Goblirk, Gobla, Goblinus… they sounded thematically fitting at least.
I could already imagine Yuuki and Hinata judging me with disappointed silence.
"Sir Akuma…" Rigurd — now named — stepped forward, his face serious. "You honor us. But… giving so many names in one day… is your body going to withstand it?"
I smirked.
"Nope. I'm well aware that naming this many monsters is a shortcut to a magical coma. But if the leader won't serve his people, why should they serve him?"
Manipulative? Yes. But hey, it's working. Besides, I'm not even using my own magic here.
This is Veldora's fuel I'm burning through.
The goblins seemed floored, like I had just given them a second chance at life. They whispered among themselves in awe, many on the verge of tears.
To them, the strong didn't give. The strong took.
But I was here handing out power like it was candy.
And in return?
They'd offer loyalty. Worship. Faith.
The same kind Luminous used to grow stronger. I'd be using it too. Why not play every angle Rimuru missed?
…Right on cue.
I blinked once. Then twice.
"Well," I yawned, already feeling my body sway. "Good night, everyone."
And then the world tilted sideways.