MantraDharti: A Reincarnated as a prodigyChapter 1: From Noida to Eternity
The neon hum of Noida's Sector 62 buzzed through the night, a symphony of urban chaos that seeped into Deepak's one-bedroom apartment like an uninvited guest. At thirty-three, Deepak was a specter in his own life, his existence tethered to the glow of his monitor, the clatter of his keyboard, and the faint, comforting aroma of chai cooling in a chipped ceramic mug. The apartment, tucked on the eighth floor of a concrete tower, was a cramped sanctuary amidst the city's sprawl—glass-fronted IT offices, honking auto-rickshaws, and street vendors hawking masala dosas under flickering sodium lights. Monsoon rains pattered against his window, a steady drizzle that blurred the neon into a watercolor haze, reflecting the ache of his solitude. As an IT recruitment lead for a USA and Canada-based company, Deepak had once thrived in the corporate jungle, a maestro orchestrating coder placements across continents, his voice steady over conference calls to Toronto and Silicon Valley. But three months ago, his psoriasis—red, scaly patches that flared across his arms, legs, and back like a traitor's brand—had driven him to work-from-home, hiding his skin from colleagues' pitying glances and the unspoken judgments of a world that prized perfection.
Deepak rubbed his tired eyes, the clock on his monitor blinking 2:34 AM, a silent accusation of his sleepless nights. His desk was a battlefield of his life's fragments: a stack of empty chai mugs, their rims stained with milky cardamom sweetness; a dog-eared copy of That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime, its spine cracked from countless re-reads; his smartphone glowing with the latest Solo Leveling chapter, Sung Jin-Woo's smirk a defiant beacon in a monochrome world. He'd spent the previous weekend binging Mushoku Tensei, laughing at Rudeus Greyrat's missteps while envying his second chance at life, his fingers absently scratching a flare-up on his elbow. The psoriasis wasn't just a condition; it was a wall, a barrier that had eroded his social life like a monsoon washing away loose earth. Friends from his college days in Delhi had drifted, their WhatsApp group chats fading into silence, their invitations to chai stalls or movie nights replaced by polite excuses. Romance was a distant dream, crushed under the weight of self-consciousness—dates canceled, profiles deleted, his psoriasis a silent gatekeeper. His parents in Aligarh called every Sunday, their voices thick with love and worry, urging him to visit, to try new creams, to see another dermatologist. He'd nod into the phone, promise to come soon, and hang up, the distance between Noida and Aligarh feeling wider than the miles.
Gentle, hardworking, his boss's last performance review read, saved as a screenshot on his laptop, a small anchor in a sea of solitude that threatened to drown him. Deepak sipped the cold chai, its spices a fleeting comfort, and leaned back in his creaking chair, the sound a familiar companion in the quiet. His apartment was a patchwork of his passions: a shelf sagging under light novels—Slime, Overlord, Re:Zero—their colorful spines a rebellion against the beige walls; a corner cluttered with anime figurines, Bell Cranel from Danmachi standing proudly beside Rimuru Tempest's slime form; a laptop sticker of Sung Jin-Woo's shadow army, a nod to Solo Leveling's grit. The monitor's glow illuminated his face, casting shadows over the scaly patches on his cheeks, a reminder of why he'd stopped looking in mirrors. He opened Crunchyroll, the familiar interface a portal to escape, and clicked on Danmachi's Minotaur fight, Bell Cranel's desperate charge against the beast sparking a pang of longing. If only I could fight like that, he thought, his fingers brushing the Solo Leveling manga on his desk, its pages splayed like a fallen warrior. He'd been saving the next chapter for a moment of peace, a reward for surviving another day of emails and isolation.
The work-from-home setup had been both a blessing and a curse. No more dodging colleagues' glances in the office, no more awkward explanations about his skin, but also no more casual chai breaks or banter with the team. His headset, perched like a crown on his desk, connected him to clients across oceans, but the voices on the other end—recruiters in Toronto, developers in Vancouver—felt as distant as the stars outside his rain-streaked window. He'd closed a deal that evening, placing a Python developer with a startup in Seattle, earning a rare "well done" from his boss. But the victory was hollow, the Slack ping fading into the silence of his apartment. He glanced at the chai mug, its contents cold, and sighed. Another night, another chapter, he thought, his inner voice tinged with the humor he clung to like a lifeline. Sung Jin-Woo would've soloed this loneliness by now.
He adjusted his headset, the foam pads worn from years of use, and scrolled through his phone, the Solo Leveling manga tempting him. One chapter, then bed, he promised, echoing a ritual that had carried him through countless nights. The room was quiet, save for the hum of his laptop and the distant honk of a late-night auto-rickshaw. He clicked play on Danmachi, the Minotaur's roar filling his ears, Bell's blade flashing with desperate courage. Deepak's lips curved into a faint smile, his heart lifting. Bell's got guts. Maybe I could— A wave of dizziness crashed over him, sharp and unnatural, like a glitch in an anime stream. His chest tightened, breath catching as if the air had turned to stone. "Crap," he rasped, his voice barely a whisper, his hand reaching for the chai mug. His fingers fumbled, the mug tipping, amber liquid spilling across his keyboard in a slow, glistening flood. "Not the laptop…" he muttered, panic rising like a Tensura mana storm.
The room spun, colors bleeding into static, the Minotaur's roar warping into a hollow drone. Pain surged—not the familiar burn of his psoriasis, but a deep, final ache that clawed at his core, a beast far fiercer than any Danmachi monster. His monitor flickered, Bell's face dissolving into darkness, the Solo Leveling manga slipping to the floor, pages crumpling like a defeated adventurer. His legs buckled, his body slumping against the desk, the chai mug rolling with a dull clink. His vision blurred, the neon lights of Noida fading into a void. His last thought was absurdly clear, a nerdy lament that carried his soul: I didn't even finish the chapter.
Oblivion swallowed him, a curtain falling on his world.
Starlight erupted, a flood of warmth and infinity that jolted Deepak's consciousness like waking in a dream too vivid to deny. He had no body, no weight, only awareness—a soul adrift in a sea of radiance that pulsed with life. The air, if it could be called air, thrummed with a melody of creation, war, wisdom, love, and judgment, vibrating through his essence like a cosmic sitar plucked by divine hands. His apartment, his psoriasis, his chai-stained desk—they were gone, erased like a manga panel torn from its binding, leaving only a faint echo of Noida's neon glow. A name bloomed in his mind, resonant and sacred, like a subtitle to a story he hadn't read: MantraDharti. It carried the weight of a world, a realm of swords, magic, and gods, its syllables echoing the cadence of Sanskrit hymns, a bridge between his Indian roots and an unknown destiny.
The radiance coalesced, shaping a chamber vast beyond mortal comprehension, its scale dwarfing even the grandest temples Deepak had visited in Varanasi as a child. The floor was a mist-woven lake, rippling under an unseen breeze, its surface reflecting galaxies that pulsed in the ceiling above, each star a note in a cosmic symphony. The air shimmered with mana, a force that felt alive, weaving threads of divine will into a tapestry of existence. Lotus-shaped constellations glowed overhead, their petals unfurling like offerings to the gods, a nod to the Hindu myths Deepak's grandmother had whispered—tales of Vishnu's cosmic ocean, Brahma's creation, Shiva's dance. The chamber hummed with power, each vibration a heartbeat of a world called MantraDharti, a name that resonated in his soul like a Tensura-style world announcement.
Before him stood five thrones, each a monument to forces that shaped worlds, their presence so overwhelming his soul quivered like a candle in a monsoon gale. Upon them sat figures—gods, his consciousness whispered, their auras a symphony of awe and terror that made his nerdy heart race. The first was a warrior, his molten armor glowing like a forge, spears and flames dancing around his throne, their tips glinting like the Sudarshan Chakra of Vishnu—Yorior, God of Strength and War, his eyes blazing with the ferocity of a Demon Slayer Hashira facing a demon lord. Beside him, a figure wreathed in vines and lotus blossoms, her gentle aura a cradle of earth and warmth—Ribha, Goddess of Love and Earth, her smile as soothing as a monsoon rain, her presence a Fruits Basket embrace that calmed Deepak's trembling soul.
To the right, a robed scholar sat, her eyes like starlit tomes, a quill dancing at her side, its ink weaving runes that shimmered with knowledge—Gyak, Goddess of Knowledge and Craft, her gaze piercing yet kind, like a Tensura sage analyzing a new skill. Another figure, draped in gold and scales, his presence sharp as a merchant's ledger, his rings glinting with calculated intent—Nyavya, God of Commerce and Judgment, his aura a Spice and Wolf contract waiting to be signed. And finally, a being of shifting auroras, his form a canvas of raw creation, colors swirling like a painter's dream—Mayarch, God of Creation and Magic, his voice a whisper of infinite possibilities, like a Tensura spell weaving a new world.
Deepak's consciousness quivered, a lone spark before a cosmic blaze. He was no hero, just a guy who'd read too many light novels and worked too many nights, his greatest battles fought against client deadlines and his own skin. Yet here he floated, before the five pillar gods of MantraDharti, their gazes weighing his soul like a Tensura council judging Rimuru's worth. Truck-kun strikes again, he thought, his inner nerd kicking into overdrive, his heart racing like a Danmachi adventurer facing a dungeon boss. This is the isekai cutscene of a lifetime, straight out of Slime's Great Sage briefing. Don't screw it up, Deepak.
The silence stretched, the gods' presence a weight that pressed against his soul, their thrones towering like the cosmic peaks of Hindu mythology—Kailasa, Meru, the abode of gods. Yorior's flames crackled, a challenge in his eyes, while Ribha's vines swayed gently, her warmth a promise of sanctuary. Gyak's quill paused, her gaze probing his essence, and Nyavya's scales tilted, measuring his worth. Mayarch's auroras pulsed, inviting him to dream. Deepak's soul steadied, his nerdy humor a lifeline. Okay, I'm in a Tensura-style divine meeting. Time to channel Rimuru and roll with it. He braced himself, his consciousness tingling with anticipation, ready for the gods to speak, to unveil the next chapter of his story in a world called MantraDharti.
Chapter 2: The Gods' Pact
The starlight that enveloped Deepak's soul was a torrent of warmth and infinity, a radiant sea that pulsed with life, as if he'd been plunged into the heart of a Tensura-style cosmic origin. His consciousness floated, weightless, a solitary ember adrift in a galaxy of light. Gone was the cramped Noida apartment, the chai-stained desk, the sting of psoriasis that had defined his thirty-three years. The hum of his laptop, the neon glow of Sector 62's IT towers, the crumpled pages of Solo Leveling—all erased, as fleeting as a manga panel torn from its binding. In their place, a name resonated in his soul, sacred and heavy, like a Sanskrit hymn whispered by his grandmother in Aligarh: MantraDharti. It was a world unborn to him, a realm of swords, magic, and gods, its syllables carrying the cadence of a cosmic destiny, a bridge between his Indian roots and an isekai adventure he'd only dreamed of in the pages of That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime.
The radiance coalesced, weaving a chamber vast beyond mortal comprehension, its scale dwarfing the grandest temples Deepak had visited as a child—Varanasi's golden spires, the ancient carvings of Khajuraho. The floor was a mist-woven lake, rippling under an unseen breeze, its surface reflecting a ceiling of galaxies where stars pulsed like lotus petals, each bloom a constellation glowing with divine intent. The air thrummed with mana, a living force that vibrated through his essence like a sitar's strings plucked by unseen hands, weaving a symphony of creation, war, wisdom, love, and judgment. Lotus-shaped auroras danced overhead, their petals unfurling like offerings to the gods, evoking Hindu myths of Vishnu's cosmic ocean, where the universe slept on the serpent Ananta. The chamber was a tapestry of power, each thread a heartbeat of MantraDharti, a world that felt both alien and intimately familiar, as if Deepak's soul had always known its name.
Before him stood five thrones, each a monument to forces that shaped worlds, their presence so overwhelming his consciousness quivered like a candle in a monsoon gale. The first throne blazed with molten light, its occupant a warrior clad in armor that glowed like a forge, spears and flames dancing around him like the Sudarshan Chakra spinning in Vishnu's hand—Yorior, God of Strength and War, his eyes blazing with the ferocity of a Demon Slayer Hashira facing a demon lord. His throne was a pyre of molten steel, etched with weapons—swords, axes, tridents—that shimmered with battle's promise, their edges glinting like Parashu, the axe of Parashuram. Beside him, a throne wreathed in vines and lotus blossoms cradled a figure of earth and warmth, her aura a sanctuary of growth—Ribha, Goddess of Love and Earth, her smile as soothing as a monsoon rain, her presence a Fruits Basket embrace that calmed Deepak's trembling soul. Her throne bloomed with lotuses, their petals glowing like Diwali lamps, rooted in a verdant cascade that pulsed with life.
To the right, a throne of starlit tomes stood, its occupant a robed scholar with eyes like constellations, a quill dancing at her side, its ink weaving runes that shimmered with knowledge—Gyak, Goddess of Knowledge and Craft, her gaze piercing yet kind, like a Tensura sage analyzing a new skill. Her throne was a library of light, scrolls and books floating in orbits, their pages inscribed with runes that echoed the Vedas' wisdom. Another throne, draped in gold and scales, held a figure whose presence was sharp as a merchant's ledger, his rings glinting with calculated intent—Nyavya, God of Commerce and Judgment, his aura a Spice and Wolf contract waiting to be signed. His throne gleamed with golden coins and scales, their balance perfect, reflecting the precision of a cosmic accountant. And finally, a throne of shifting auroras, its occupant a being of raw creation, colors swirling like a painter's dream—Mayarch, God of Creation and Magic, his voice a whisper of infinite possibilities, like a Tensura spell weaving a new world. His throne was a kaleidoscope, its surface rippling with visions of MantraDharti's landscapes—lush forests, mana-lit spires, lotus-filled rivers.
Deepak's soul quivered, a lone spark before a cosmic blaze. He was no hero, just a guy who'd read too many light novels and worked too many nights, his greatest battles fought against client deadlines and the sting of psoriasis. Yet here he floated, before the five pillar gods of MantraDharti, their gazes weighing his essence like a Tensura council judging Rimuru's worth. Truck-kun strikes again, he thought, his inner nerd kicking into overdrive, his heart racing like a Danmachi adventurer facing a dungeon boss. This is the isekai cutscene of a lifetime, straight out of Slime's Great Sage briefing. Don't screw it up, Deepak. Channel Rimuru and roll with it.
Gyak's voice broke the silence, a melodic cascade that cut through his awe like a Tensura OST heralding a pivotal moment. "Deepak of Earth, your mortal life has ended," she said, her starlit eyes piercing his soul, her quill pausing mid-rune. "A quiet departure in the night, yet your soul shines with resilience, a gentle ember forged in hardship's crucible. You stand before the Five Pillars, architects of MantraDharti, to receive our judgment and our gift."
Deepak's non-existent throat tightened, his soul trembling with the weight of her words. "Ended? So… I'm dead?" The ache of his final moment—chai spilling, manga falling, the flicker of his monitor—confirmed it, a plot twist worthy of Mushoku Tensei. His Noida apartment, his psoriasis, his half-read Slime novel—they were gone, erased like a manga panel left behind. I didn't even get to see Sung Jin-Woo's next dungeon clear, his inner voice whined, clinging to humor to mask the shock that rippled through his essence. This is it? No more chai mugs, no more Crunchyroll binges? Just… poof?
Yorior's laugh rumbled, a clash of swords and wildfire that shook the misty floor, his throne flaring with molten light. "Dead as a felled foe!" he boomed, his voice a Demon Slayer battle cry, his fiery eyes glinting with a teasing edge. "No warrior's grave for you, mortal, but you've caught our eye—soft as silk, yet stubborn as steel forged in my flames." His armor glowed, spears dancing like a cosmic arsenal, their tips evoking Parashu's unyielding might. "You're no knight, but there's a spark in you, kid. A fighter's heart, even if you don't know it yet."
Deepak's soul flickered, his inner nerd reeling. Yorior's giving Demon Slayer Hashira vibes, sizing me up like Tanjiro before a demon fight. Me, a fighter? I'm just a guy who fights Excel sheets! He tried to steady himself, his consciousness tingling with the god's intensity, but Yorior's grin was encouraging, not mocking, a challenge wrapped in camaraderie.
Ribha's vines curled gently, lotus blossoms unfurling as her smile radiated warmth, a Fruits Basket scene of quiet understanding that soothed his panic. "Your heart endured solitude, Deepak," she said, her voice a monsoon breeze, rich with the scent of earth and blooms. "Psoriasis bound your body, a cruel cage, yet kindness defined your soul. We see your longing for a life unburdened, a canvas unpainted by pain, where love may bloom like lotuses in my rivers." Her throne pulsed with vitality, its vines weaving patterns that echoed the Diwali lamps his grandmother lit, each petal a promise of growth and connection.
Deepak's essence warmed, Ribha's words piercing the solitude of his Noida nights. She's like Tohru, seeing right through my walls, he thought, his inner voice softening. Psoriasis kept me locked away, but she's offering… what? A new start? The thought of a life free from his skin's betrayal sparked a flicker of hope, like a Tensura character glimpsing a new world.
Nyavya's golden rings clinked, his gaze sharp as a merchant's ledger in Spice and Wolf, his scales tilting with calculated precision. "A life of diligence, yet starved of joy," he said, his voice smooth as a bazaar vendor sealing a deal. "Your ledger is balanced, mortal, but incomplete. You toiled for others, yet hoarded no happiness for yourself. We offer a new bargain—a world where your worth is yours to shape, free from the chains of your past." His throne gleamed, coins and scales shimmering like a cosmic marketplace, their balance reflecting a judgment both stern and fair.
Deepak's soul stirred, Nyavya's words cutting like a Tensura negotiation. A bargain? This guy's Holo-level sharp, reading my life like a profit-and-loss sheet. His inner nerd chuckled, imagining himself bartering with a god. Okay, I'm no merchant, but I know a good deal when I see one. What's the offer?
Mayarch's auroras swirled, his form a kaleidoscope of creation, his voice a chorus of possibilities that echoed like a Tensura world-building monologue. "MantraDharti awaits, a realm of magic woven with steel, of gods and mortals entwined," he said, his throne rippling with visions—lush forests where lotuses bloomed in mana-lit rivers, spires that pierced violet skies, battlefields where swords clashed under Yorior's gaze. "You will be reborn, not as a pawn in our divine tapestry, but as a spark to ignite your own path, a brush to paint your own destiny."
Deepak's mind spun, his inner nerd reeling like Rimuru facing Veldora's seal. Reborn? MantraDharti? This is straight-up isekai gold! He'd dreamed of second chances while reading Solo Leveling, picturing himself as Sung Jin-Woo, defying odds with a system cheat. But facing gods in a cosmic chamber? This was Tensura's Octagram meeting, cranked to eleven. "Why me?" he asked, his voice a whisper in the vastness, barely audible over the cosmic hum. "I'm just… a guy. No hero, no protagonist vibes. I'm not even good at Among Us—I get voted off first every time."
Gyak's quill paused mid-rune, her starlit eyes gleaming with an enigmatic smile, like Great Sage analyzing Rimuru's potential. "No soul is 'just,' Deepak," she said, her voice a cascade of wisdom that felt like a library unfolding in his mind. "Your gentleness is a strength, your hardship a forge that tempered your will. We choose you to live—truly live—where your past life faltered, to paint MantraDharti with your colors, to craft a story worthy of its chronicles."
Deepak's soul flickered, his inner voice grappling with her words. Gentleness as strength? That's some Fruits Basket wisdom right there. His psoriasis had caged him, his nights spent alone with Slime and chai, but Gyak's words saw through that, offering a purpose he'd never dared imagine. Okay, I'm no Rimuru, but they're picking me for a reason. What's the catch?
Ribha's vines bloomed with lotus flowers, their petals glowing like Diwali lamps, her smile a promise of sanctuary. "Happiness is our gift, not a chain," she said, her warmth enveloping him like a monsoon rain. "Live as you wish, love as you dream, in MantraDharti's embrace, where the earth sings with my vitality and Ribha's love weaves bonds unbroken."
Yorior leaned forward, his throne crackling with flames, a grin splitting his molten face like a Demon Slayer warlord daring a fight. "But if you crave glory, kid, grow strong!" he boomed, his voice shaking the misty floor. "Prove your mettle, and we'll spill the beans—our purpose for you, the big plot twist that'll make MantraDharti tremble!" His laugh was a battle cry, daring yet encouraging, his spears glinting like Trishula, Shiva's trident, ready for war.
Deepak's inner nerd cheered, Yorior's hyping me up like a Tensura boss fight! Purpose? Plot twist? I'm in! But his caution lingered, tempered by years of solitude. No way it's that simple. There's gotta be a catch.
Nyavya's smirk was sly, his golden scales glinting like coins in a Spice and Wolf trade. "Or don't," he said, his voice smooth as a bazaar deal. "Freedom's your currency, mortal. Spend it on peace or power, but spend it well. MantraDharti's markets are vast, its opportunities boundless. Choose your trade, and let judgment follow." His scales tilted, a perfect balance that weighed Deepak's potential, his aura promising both reward and consequence.
Mayarch's auroras pulsed, his throne rippling with visions of MantraDharti—cities of mana-lit stone, forests where mana beasts roared, rivers where lotuses glowed under violet skies. "Strength will unlock our secrets," he said, his voice a mystic hymn, "but joy is the true quest. MantraDharti is your canvas, and we gift you the brushes to paint it, to weave a tapestry of your own creation."
Deepak's soul steadied, his inner voice buzzing with nerdy excitement. Freedom to live happily? No forced demon king quest? His psoriasis had been a cage, locking him in Noida's lonely nights, but these gods offered a world without walls, a Tensura-style blank slate like Rimuru's new life. "What's the catch?" he asked, his tone cautious, his inner nerd adding, No way it's this good. Even Rimuru had to fight orcs to earn his peace.
Gyak raised a hand, starlight coiling around her fingers like threads of a cosmic loom, her quill tracing runes that shimmered with knowledge. "No catch—only gifts," she said, her voice a melody of assurance. "Our blessings, at their pinnacle—Level Ten, a gift beyond MantraDharti's mortal limits, granted by all five pillars. They will awaken at your baptism, one year hence, when your status is unveiled to the world, a chronicle of your potential inscribed in divine light."
Deepak's inner nerd nearly short-circuited, his soul buzzing like Rimuru after a Tensura skill unlock. Level Ten? From all five gods? In Solo Leveling terms, that was S-rank on steroids, a cheat code that would make Sung Jin-Woo jealous. Even MantraDharti's elites, he sensed, couldn't dream of such favor. "Level Ten?" he echoed, his voice cracking like a newbie adventurer facing a Danmachi dungeon boss. "That's… not normal, right? Like, I'm not just getting a basic sword skill and a pat on the back? This is Slime-level OP!"
Yorior's grin widened, his flames surging like a Tensura ultimate skill, his throne a pyre of molten steel. "Normal? Ha! You're our wildcard, kid. Don't waste it!" His blessing seared Deepak's soul with unbreakable resolve, a fiery vow of strength that felt like wielding Parashu in a cosmic battle. The god's spears danced, their tips glinting like Vishnu's Sudarshan Chakra, a promise of power that made Deepak's essence tremble with awe.
Ribha's vines wove a glow of vitality, grounding him like the earth after a monsoon, her lotuses blooming with Diwali's radiance. "Our faith in you is absolute," she said, her blessing a warm embrace that promised growth, like a lotus rising from still waters. "You shall walk MantraDharti's earth, loved and unbound, your heart a garden where my blessings bloom." Her warmth was a Fruits Basket hug, easing the scars of his past.
Nyavya's gold sparked, sharpening his instincts to a razor's edge, his scales tilting with perfect judgment. "A fortune few can fathom," he said, his blessing a key to untold opportunities, like a Spice and Wolf trade route opening across MantraDharti's markets. "Your ledger begins anew, mortal. Fill it with choices that honor this gift." His voice was a merchant's promise, both challenge and reward.
Mayarch's auroras poured magic into his essence, vast and untamed, like a Tensura spell weaving a new nation. "Create without limit," he intoned, his blessing a canvas of infinite hues, visions of MantraDharti's spires and forests flashing in Deepak's soul. "Your magic will shape the world, a spark to ignite its wonders." The god's throne rippled, a cosmic ocean like Vishnu's, where creation danced in endless waves.
Gyak's starlight enveloped him last, a cascade of knowledge that felt like a library unfolding in his mind, pages flipping faster than a Tensura skill acquisition. "Learn, and shape the world," she said, her blessing a beacon for his curious soul, her quill tracing runes that echoed the Vedas' wisdom. "Your chronicle begins, Deepak, a story to rival MantraDharti's legends."
Deepak's soul blazed, his inner nerd screaming with glee. SSS-rank blessings across the board? I'm an isekai cheat code, Rimuru-style, ready to rebuild Tempest! His heart raced, imagining himself wielding magic like Veldora's storms, his mind buzzing with Slime and Danmachi fantasies. Level Ten blessings? That's Sung Jin-Woo-level power before his double awakening!
Nyavya snapped his fingers, and a satchel materialized in a shimmer of mana, its leather etched with lotus runes that glowed like Diwali lamps, its presence resonating in Deepak's soul—an Item Box, straight out of Danmachi's adventurer kit. "A bag of essentials," Nyavya said, his voice smooth as a bazaar vendor's pitch. "Tools for your new life, sealed until you need them, a treasure to balance your ledger." The satchel pulsed, its mana weaving a connection to Deepak's essence, a promise of divine gifts waiting to be unveiled.
Deepak's inner voice cheered, An Item Box? That's Tensura-level inventory! What's in it—swords, potions, a Slime-style skill scroll? He felt the satchel's weight in his soul, a spark of excitement igniting his nerdy heart. Okay, this is getting better by the second.
Ribha's voice softened, her vines curling like a mother's touch, their lotuses blooming with gentle light. "You will enter MantraDharti as Dominic Ward von Eldridge, third son of a Margrave, aged nine," she said, her warmth enveloping him. "A noble's life, yet free to carve your own path under the Five's gaze, a lotus rising from the earth's embrace."
Deepak's soul paused, his inner nerd blinking. A kid? Nine years old? Great, I'm Rudeus 2.0, but with better hair and no creepy uncles. The thought of being a child again was jarring, his Noida life of late-night chai and client calls a stark contrast. But a noble's son? That was a Tensura-worthy starting point, like Rimuru spawning as a slime with infinite potential. A Margrave's kid? That's high-tier noble, like Chronicles of an Aristocrat. I'm in!
Gyak's eyes gleamed, her quill tracing a final rune that shimmered like a Tensura status screen. "At ten, your baptism will awaken your powers—our blessings, your status, your potential," she said, her voice a beacon of wisdom. "Grow strong, and we will speak again, our purpose unveiled in time. Live well, and that is enough." Her starlight pulsed, a promise of knowledge that felt like a library downloaded into his soul.
Yorior leaned forward, his flames crackling like a Demon Slayer final battle, his grin daring. "Get tough, kid, or don't," he said, his voice a challenge that echoed through the chamber. "MantraDharti's no desk job—it's a battlefield, a forge, a crucible for your spark. You ready to wield it?" His spears glinted, their tips like Trishula, a call to strength that made Deepak's soul burn with anticipation.
Deepak hesitated, his past life flashing—Noida's long nights, the sting of psoriasis, the comfort of Solo Leveling's pages, Sung Jin-Woo's defiance against impossible odds. He'd never asked for more, never dared to dream beyond his apartment's walls. But now, more was his—a chance to live, to love, to be more than a shadow in a neon-lit city. His soul steadied, his inner voice channeling Rimuru's resolve. "I am ready," he said, his voice firm, no longer a whisper in the vastness. Let's do this, isekai style. Time to be a Slime-level legend!
The gods' laughter echoed, a symphony of war, earth, wisdom, gold, and magic that shook the cosmic chamber, its lotus constellations flaring like Diwali's grandest display. Yorior's flames roared, Ribha's vines bloomed, Gyak's runes glowed, Nyavya's scales balanced, and Mayarch's auroras danced, their powers weaving a tapestry that sealed Deepak's fate. Mayarch raised a hand, his auroras swirling like a Tensura spell cast, a cosmic ocean rippling with creation's promise. "Then go, Dominic Ward von Eldridge," he intoned, his voice a hymn that resonated through Deepak's soul. "Live, love, grow. MantraDharti awaits its new spark, a canvas for your story."
The white world blazed, starlight swallowing Deepak's consciousness, the lotus constellations spiraling into infinity. His last thought was a burst of nerdy glee, a vow to embrace his new life: Time to level up, Slime-style. MantraDharti, here I come!
Chapter 3: A Noble's Hearth
The starlight of the divine realm faded, its cosmic symphony of lotus constellations and godly voices dissolving into a new reality that enveloped Deepak's soul. No longer was he the solitary IT recruitment lead, tethered to Noida's neon nights and psoriasis's sting. Instead, he awoke in a body not his own—smaller, lighter, vibrant with youth—a nine-year-old boy with jet-black hair and sharp eyes that betrayed an Otherworlder's soul. The name Dominic Ward von Eldridge thrummed in his mind, a title bestowed by the five pillar gods of MantraDharti, a world of swords, magic, and divine blessings. The transition was jarring, like stepping from a monochrome manga page into the vivid panels of That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime. His heart raced, his inner nerd buzzing with glee. From Noida's chai mugs to a noble's life? This is Tensura-level isekai gold! he thought, his soul tingling with the weight of Level 10 blessings—gifts from Yorior, Ribha, Gyak, Nyavya, and Mayarch, dormant until his baptism at ten. I'm Rimuru 2.0, but with a noble crest instead of a slime body. Gotta keep my Slime quips under wraps, though—no shouting "Veldora!" in this fancy new world.
Dominic stood in the grand foyer of the Eldridge estate, a marvel that dwarfed his Noida apartment and rivaled the opulent settings of Chronicles of an Aristocrat Reborn in Another World. The hall stretched before him, its polished stone floors gleaming under mana-lit chandeliers, their crystals casting lotus-shaped patterns that danced like Diwali lamps. Walls were adorned with tapestries woven with the Five Pillars' symbols: Yorior's blazing spear, Ribha's blooming vines, Gyak's starlit quill, Nyavya's golden scales, Mayarch's swirling auroras. Each thread shimmered with mana, a testament to MantraDharti's magic, their lotus motifs evoking the sacred blooms of Hindu mythology—Vishnu's lotus, Lakshmi's grace. The air carried the faint scent of sandalwood incense and chai, a nod to Deepak's heritage woven into this fantastical world, grounding his racing heart. Arched windows framed gardens where mana-infused lotuses glowed under a violet sky, their petals pulsing like the cosmic lights of the divine realm. The estate was a fortress of nobility, yet its warmth enveloped him, a stark contrast to the cold isolation of his past life.
This place is straight out of Tensura's Tempest—a noble HQ with Rimuru-level vibes! Dominic thought, his inner nerd grinning. No psoriasis, no client emails, just mana and magic. But I'm nine? Gotta play it cool, no Danmachi quotes in front of the family. His new body felt light, unburdened by the scaly patches that had defined Deepak's life, but the weight of his divine gifts—Level 10 blessings, an S-rank Item Box, a limitless level cap—hummed in his soul, a secret he'd guard until baptism. Status Concealment, don't fail me now. I'm not ready to be MantraDharti's Sung Jin-Woo.
A gentle hand rested on his shoulder, and Dominic turned to meet the gaze of Lord Cedric von Eldridge, the Margrave of this noble house, trusted by MantraDharti's king for his prodigious strength. Cedric's salt-and-pepper beard framed a kind smile, his hazel eyes radiating a warmth that balanced authority with love, like a Tensura leader rallying his nation. His burgundy cloak, embroidered with the Eldridge crest—a wyrm coiled around a spear—hung over broad shoulders, its fabric shimmering with mana that hinted at his baptized blessings (Yorior Level 4, Ribha Level 3, Dominic would later learn). His presence was a pillar, a beacon of strength that anchored the hall, yet his voice was soft, resonant with paternal pride. "Welcome, Dominic, my son," he said, his tone as steady as a Demon Slayer mentor. "You are an Eldridge now, third son of our house, and MantraDharti's light shines upon you."
Dominic straightened, his nine-year-old frame small but his soul steady, channeling an aristocratic poise to mask his inner nerd's panic. "My lord father, I am profoundly honored to join this noble house," he said, his voice clear despite his inner monologue screaming, Holy crap, I sound like Rudeus trying to impress Eris! Gotta keep it noble, not geek out like a Slime fanboy. Cedric's smile widened, a flicker of amusement in his eyes, as if sensing the boy's effort to fit his new role.
Lady Seraphina, Cedric's first wife, stepped forward, her auburn braid catching the chandelier's glow, her green eyes radiating maternal warmth like Ribha herself. Her gown, woven with lotus patterns, shimmered with mana, a testament to her prodigy blessings (Ribha Level 4, Nyavya Level 3). Her presence was a Fruits Basket embrace, soothing the remnants of Deepak's solitude. "Dear Dominic," she said, her voice a melody of care, "our hearth is yours, a sanctuary where love binds us all. You shall thrive here, under the Five's grace." Her hand brushed his cheek, a gesture that made his heart ache with memories of his mother's calls from Aligarh, her voice thick with worry.
She's like Tohru, all warmth and no judgment, Dominic thought, his inner voice softening. Noida's gone, and I'm not alone anymore. This is my Tensura nation now. He bowed, his tone polished. "Lady Seraphina, your kindness is a treasure I shall cherish," he said, his inner nerd adding, Okay, that was smooth. Don't trip over my own isekai plot.
Lady Amara, his biological mother in this life, approached next, her dark hair flowing like ink, her amber eyes glowing with Gyak's wisdom and an Indian auntie's nurturing warmth (Gyak Level 4, Ribha Level 3). Her sari-like gown, embroidered with lotus and vine motifs, shimmered with mana, its folds evoking the elegance of a Diwali celebration. "My dearest Dominic," she said, her voice a sitar's strum, "you are my heart's light, a prodigy destined to shine. Our family's love shall guide you." She knelt, embracing him, her warmth a stark contrast to Deepak's lonely nights, the scent of sandalwood in her hair grounding him.
Amara's like an Indian auntie, ready to pile my plate with naan, Dominic thought, his heart swelling. This is better than any Slime episode. He returned the embrace, his tone aristocratic. "Mother, your love is my strength," he said, his inner voice cheering, Nailed it! I'm living the Mushoku Tensei family arc!
The children followed, their presence a symphony of prodigy talent and familial bond. Roland, fourteen, stood tall like Cedric, his father's stern jaw softened by Seraphina's green eyes, his sword-calloused hands hinting at his Royal Academy training (Yorior Level 4, Mayarch Level 3). His burgundy tunic, a smaller echo of Cedric's cloak, marked him as the heir, his confidence tempered by kindness. "Brother," Roland said, his voice steady, "welcome to House Eldridge. We'll train together, make you strong." His grin was boyish, a shonen hero's camaraderie.
Roland's a Bell Cranel clone, sword and all! Dominic thought, his inner nerd buzzing. He's got Danmachi vibes, ready to lead a guild. He nodded, his tone noble. "I am eager to learn from you, Brother Roland," he said, his inner voice adding, Sparring with a shonen hero? Sign me up!
Theo, twelve, was slighter, his auburn curls framing a studious face, a rune-etched book tucked under his arm, his Mayarch-blessed intellect glowing (Mayarch Level 4, Gyak Level 3). "Dominic," he said softly, his eyes bright, "runes and magic await you. I'll show you their secrets." His enthusiasm was a Tensura sage's spark, inviting Dominic into a world of knowledge.
Theo's a Rimuru-level scholar, crafting Slime-style spells! Dominic thought, grinning inwardly. He bowed slightly. "Your wisdom honors me, Brother Theo," he said, his inner nerd cheering, Runes? I'm gonna be a Tensura mage in no time!
Elise, ten, glided forward in a pale blue dress, her blonde hair tied with lotus-shaped ribbons, her Ribha-blessed warmth like a Fruits Basket heroine (Ribha Level 3, Nyavya Level 3). "Dominic!" she chirped, her blue eyes twinkling. "My baptism's soon, and yours will be amazing! I'll teach you dancing!" Her cheer was infectious, pulling him into the family's orbit.
Elise is the ojou-sama, straight out of Fruits Basket! Dominic thought, his heart lightening. He smiled, his tone graceful. "Dear sister, I eagerly await your tutelage," he said, his inner voice laughing, Dancing? I'm Rudeus-level clumsy, but let's try!
The grand dining hall awaited, its long table set for a family gathering, a ritual of unity in this polygamous household trusted by MantraDharti's king. The air was thick with the aroma of chai, steaming in silver pots, mingling with naan-like mana-infused bread, its yeasty warmth a nod to Deepak's Indian roots. Crystal goblets gleamed beside plates heaped with roasted wyrm-tail—tender, spiced meat that smelled like biryani—and vegetables glazed with mana-berry sauce, glowing faintly like Ribha's blessings. The table was a feast, blending MantraDharti's magic with the comfort of a Diwali banquet, lotus-shaped candles flickering with mana.
The household staff moved with prodigy precision, their blessings marking them as elite. Percival Crane, the butler, orchestrated with Nyavya's ledger-like efficiency (Nyavya Level 4, Gyak Level 3), his silver hair gleaming. Clara Veyne, the head housemaid, directed with Ribha's care (Ribha Level 3, Nyavya Level 3), her brown curls bouncing. Personal maids—Lysette for Seraphina, elegant; Mira for Amara, cheerful; Fiona for Elise, gentle—hovered like a Spice and Wolf guild, their lotus-embroidered aprons glowing with mana.
Cedric raised a goblet of spiced wine, its aroma blending with chai's cardamom. "To House Eldridge, blessed by the Five Pillars," he intoned, his voice a Tensura leader's rally. The family echoed—Roland's voice steady, Theo's soft, Elise's clear, Seraphina's warm, Amara's musical. Dominic raised his mango-infused juice, a MantraDharti lassi, and murmured, "To our house," his inner voice panicking, Don't spill it, you're not Rudeus in a tavern!
Cedric turned to Roland. "How fares the Royal Academy, my son? Adventuring tests even a prodigy's mettle."
Roland grinned, his sword-calloused hands gesturing. "It is a grand challenge, Father! Adventuring teaches beast tracking through shadowed forests, survival in mana storms, and disarming rune traps. Last week, we battled mock wyrmlings—scaled beasts conjured by Mayarch's magic!" His passion was a Danmachi adventurer's fire, tempered by family love.
Roland's out here living Danmachi! Dominic thought, his inner nerd buzzing. Mock wyrmlings? That's Bell Cranel-level action! He kept his expression composed, nodding. "Your tales inspire, Brother Roland," he said, his aristocratic tone steady.
Seraphina smiled. "You honor the king, Roland." To Theo: "Are you prepared for the Academy's exam?"
Theo looked up from his book, his Mayarch-blessed eyes sparkling. "I've mastered rune fundamentals and mana control, Mother. I'll join Roland at twelve." His shy excitement was a Tensura sage's spark, free of rivalry.
Theo's gonna be a Slime-style mage! Dominic thought, grinning inwardly. "I wish you success, Brother Theo," he said, his inner voice adding, Runes? I'm hyped!
Elise clapped. "Dominic, my baptism's this spring! Yours will be a marvel!" Her warmth was a Fruits Basket sister's glow.
"I eagerly await it, dear sister," Dominic said, his tone graceful, his inner nerd cheering, Baptism's my Slime status reveal! Gotta stay cool.
Amara rested a hand on his shoulder, her warmth like an Indian auntie's. "Your baptism requires a maid to ensure disciplined training—swordplay, mana, etiquette."
Cedric nodded. "A prodigy's path demands structure, Dominic."
A maid? Like Dragon Maid's Tohru? Dominic thought, his inner nerd buzzing. He bowed. "I am ready, Father," he said, his inner voice screaming, Training arc, here we come!
Percival stepped forward, his Nyavya-blessed precision sharp. "My lord, I propose Lina Velle, nine, a prodigy from a servant family. Her diligence shall keep Master Dominic's chambers and training pristine."
Cedric smiled. "A fine choice, Percival."
Amara's eyes glowed. "Lina is kind, dear. She'll help you shine."
Childhood friend arc, Mushoku Tensei style! Dominic thought, grinning. "I am most pleased, Mother," he said, his aristocratic tone hiding his glee.
Dinner unfolded, the hall alive with laughter, chai, and wyrm-tail. Roland shared tales of Academy battles, Theo rambled about runes, Elise planned her baptism festival, and Amara recounted a Gyak-blessed craft. Dominic savored the naan-like bread, its mana-infused warmth a taste of home, his heart full. This is my Tensura nation, he thought, Deepak's solitude fading.
Months passed in a whirlwind of warmth. Lina arrived, her chestnut braids and hazel eyes bright, her apron lotus-embroidered. She organized Dominic's room—books, wooden sword—with Nyavya's precision, teasing, "A wyrm's den, Master Dominic!" His kindness, helping stack books, earned blushes, sowing harem seeds. She's my Shuna, keeping my Slime life in order, he thought.
Spring brought Elise's baptism in the Ribha temple, its lotus arches glowing like Diwali, her Level 3 blessings (Ribha/Nyavya) sparking joy. Summer saw Theo's Academy exam, his runes dazzling, and his admission feast filled the estate with chai and laughter. Dominic trained—swords with Roland, runes with Theo, dances with Elise—Lina cheering, their bond growing like a Mushoku Tensei arc. Noida's gone, he thought, standing in the training yard, lotus gardens glowing. MantraDharti's home, and I'm living it, Slime-style.
Chapter 4: The Prodigy's Path Unveiled
The Five Pillars temple loomed over the Eldridge estate like a beacon of divine will, its lotus-carved spires piercing MantraDharti's violet sky, their intricate petals glowing with mana that rivaled the radiance of a Diwali festival in full bloom. Dominic Ward von Eldridge, now ten years old, stood at the temple's marble steps, his heart pounding like a Danmachi adventurer facing a dungeon boss. The air thrummed with sacred energy, the scent of sandalwood incense weaving through the breeze, a nod to Deepak's Indian roots now etched into this fantastical world. His jet-black hair caught the glow of lotus-shaped lanterns, their mana-infused light casting patterns across his burgundy tunic, embroidered with the Eldridge crest—a wyrm coiled around a spear. The temple's arches, etched with symbols of the Five Pillars—Yorior's blazing spear, Ribha's blooming vines, Gyak's starlit quill, Nyavya's golden scales, Mayarch's swirling auroras—hummed with power, their carvings evoking Hindu mythology's grandeur, like Vishnu's cosmic ocean or Shiva's Trishula gleaming in divine light. Dominic's soul buzzed, his Otherworlder nature hidden beneath a noble facade, his Level 10 blessings from all five gods dormant but tingling, a secret guarded by Status Concealment until this moment of baptism.
Status board time, baby! Dominic thought, his inner nerd bursting with Tensura-style excitement, like Rimuru awaiting a Great Sage report. Level Ten blessings, Level: 1/∞, 62500 MP? I'm about to break MantraDharti like Sung Jin-Woo in a dungeon! But gotta keep it chill—no Slime quips in front of the priestess. His aristocratic poise held firm, a mask honed over a year in House Eldridge, where he'd learned to temper Deepak's nerdy humor with noble grace.
Lord Cedric von Eldridge, the Margrave, stood to his left, his salt-and-pepper beard framing a kind smile, his hazel eyes radiating strength and pride (Yorior Level 4, Ribha Level 3, Dominic would later learn). His burgundy cloak, bearing the wyrm-and-spear crest, shimmered with mana, a testament to his prodigy status and royal trust. Lady Amara, Dominic's mother, held his hand to his right, her dark hair flowing like ink, her amber eyes glowing with Gyak's wisdom and an Indian auntie's warmth (Gyak Level 4, Ribha Level 3). Her sari-like gown, embroidered with lotus and vine motifs, pulsed with mana, its elegance evoking a Diwali celebration. Lina Velle, his ten-year-old prodigy maid and childhood friend, stood nearby, her chestnut braids neat beneath a lotus-embroidered apron, her hazel eyes flickering with nervous excitement for her own baptism. Her unbaptized status (Ribha/Nyavya Level 3, soon revealed) marked her as a prodigy among servants, her diligence a spark that had woven a Mushoku Tensei-style bond with Dominic over the past year.
This temple's giving Tensura vibes—cosmic, epic, straight out of Rimuru's Demon Lord council! Dominic thought, his inner nerd buzzing as he surveyed the scene. Lina's nervous, but we're in this together, like Rimuru and Shuna facing a new challenge. Gotta stay noble, not geek out. He inclined his head to Lina, his tone polished. "Fear not, Lady Lina," he said, his voice steady despite his racing heart. "The Five shall guide us both to destinies resplendent." Okay, that was aristocratic enough. Don't let the Slime fanboy slip out.
Lina's cheeks flushed, her Ribha-blessed warmth sparkling like a Dragon Maid sidekick. "Thank you, Master Dominic," she murmured, her voice soft but eager. "I am honored to stand with you under the Five's gaze." Her hazel eyes shone with awe, a harem spark that made Dominic's inner nerd chuckle. She's giving Kanna vibes, blushing already! Not ready for a romance arc, but I'll take the loyalty.
The temple's interior was a marvel of divine craftsmanship, its marble floors polished to a mirror sheen, reflecting the stained-glass windows that adorned the walls. Each pane told a story of the Five Pillars—Yorior's battles against mana beasts, Ribha's creation of lotus-filled rivers, Gyak's crafting of rune-bound tomes, Nyavya's markets of golden trade, Mayarch's weaving of magical auroras—framed by lotus motifs that glowed with mana, their petals evoking the sacred blooms of Hindu mythology. The air was thick with sandalwood incense, its smoky tendrils curling like offerings to Vishnu, blending with the hum of mana that vibrated through the stone, a symphony of divine will. Mana-crystals pulsed at the altar, their facets refracting light like prisms, each glow a spark of the Five's power, like a Tensura core ready to unleash a world-altering spell. A crowd of nobles and retainers gathered in the pews, their murmurs hushed, their finery—cloaks of wyrm-silk, gowns of mana-thread—glimmering in the temple's light. Lotus-shaped lanterns floated above, their mana-infused glow casting patterns that danced across the crowd, a Diwali-like festival of divine celebration.
The priestess, her robes embroidered with Ribha's blossoms, stood at the altar, her presence serene yet commanding, her eyes reflecting the wisdom of countless baptisms. Her silver hair was bound with lotus pins, and her staff, topped with a mana-crystal, pulsed with divine energy. "Children of MantraDharti," she intoned, her voice resonating like a Tensura world announcement, "step forward. The Five Pillars—Yorior, Ribha, Gyak, Nyavya, Mayarch—await to unveil your destinies, to inscribe your paths in the tapestry of this sacred realm." Her staff rose, the crystal flaring, and the crowd fell silent, their anticipation a tangible weight.
Dominic and Lina stepped forward, their footsteps echoing on the marble, the crowd's gazes heavy with expectation. Cedric's hand rested on Dominic's shoulder, his voice deep and kind, like a Tensura leader rallying his people. "Today, my son, the gods unveil your path," he said, his prodigy aura glowing with paternal pride. "You are an Eldridge, and prodigy blood runs true in your veins." His strength, honed by baptized blessings, was a beacon in the temple's glow, his wyrm-and-spear crest a symbol of royal trust.
Amara's smile was warm, her amber eyes shimmering like Diwali lamps, her touch soothing as a monsoon breeze. "You have trained diligently, my dear," she said, her voice a sitar's strum. "Let the Five guide your soul to its destined brilliance, a lotus blooming under their light." Her love enveloped him, a shield against Deepak's Noida solitude, her sari-like gown pulsing with mana.
Dominic glanced at Lina, her hazel eyes bright with anticipation, her hands clasped tightly beneath her apron. She's a prodigy too, ready to shine, he thought, his inner nerd buzzing. We're like Rimuru and Shuna, facing the gods together. Gotta keep her calm. He smiled, his tone aristocratic. "Lady Lina, our paths align under the Five's grace," he said, his inner voice adding, Okay, that was noble enough. Don't geek out like Rudeus in a tavern.
Lina's blush deepened, her voice soft. "Your words honor me, Master Dominic," she said, her Ribha-blessed warmth a spark of their growing bond. Harem arc intensifying, Dominic thought, chuckling inwardly. Gotta focus—status reveal's coming!
The priestess raised the mana-crystal, its facets refracting light into a kaleidoscope of colors—red for Yorior, green for Ribha, silver for Gyak, gold for Nyavya, auroras for Mayarch. She began to chant, her voice weaving a divine melody that thrummed through the temple, each syllable a thread of mana stitching the air like a Tensura spell matrix. "Children of MantraDharti, born of earth and blessed by the Five, come forth!" she called, her staff flaring, the crystal's light surging like a Slime core. "Let your souls be unveiled, your destinies inscribed in the divine chronicle!" The crowd leaned forward, their breaths held, the lotus lanterns pulsing in rhythm with the chant.
Dominic's heart pounded, his inner nerd screaming with Tensura-style excitement. Here it comes—the Slime status screen reveal! Level Ten blessings, S-rank Appraisal, no cap? I'm about to break the system like Rimuru! He braced himself, the mana in the air tingling against his skin, his dormant blessings humming like a cosmic engine ready to ignite.
Light erupted from the crystal, a cascade of starlight that enveloped him like a Tensura ultimate skill activation, its warmth flooding his soul. The temple froze—Cedric's proud gaze, Amara's smile, Lina's nervous stance, the crowd's anticipation—locked in time, as if MantraDharti itself held its breath. The world dissolved into a white expanse, its misty floor rippling like a sacred lake, its ceiling a galaxy of lotus-shaped constellations pulsing with divine light. Dominic stood alone, or so his soul felt, before the five thrones of the gods, their presence a symphony of power that dwarfed even Tensura's Demon Lord council.
Yorior's molten armor blazed, his grin a Demon Slayer warlord's challenge, his throne a pyre of spears and flames, their tips glinting like Vishnu's Sudarshan Chakra. Ribha's vine-wreathed form glowed with warmth, her lotus throne blooming like a Diwali festival, her smile a monsoon's promise. Gyak's starlit eyes gleamed, her quill dancing runes on a throne of floating tomes, like a Tensura sage's archive. Nyavya's golden scales tilted, his throne a marketplace of coins and ledgers, his smirk a Spice and Wolf merchant's cunning. Mayarch's auroras swirled, his throne a cosmic ocean like Vishnu's, rippling with visions of MantraDharti's spires and forests. Here we go again, Dominic thought, his inner nerd buzzing like Rimuru before a Great Sage report. The god-tier cutscene, round two, Tensura-style. Gotta stay noble, not geek out.
Gyak spoke first, her voice a melodic cascade, like Great Sage narrating Rimuru's stats. "Dominic Ward von Eldridge, your first year in MantraDharti draws to a close," she said, her starlit eyes piercing his soul, her quill pausing mid-rune. "Today, your status board awakens, revealing our Level Ten blessings and your limitless potential. Tell us, how have you fared in this new world, under the Five's sacred light?"
Dominic straightened, his nine-year-old frame small but his soul steady, his aristocratic tone polished despite his racing heart. "Most esteemed deities, I am profoundly grateful for the life you've bestowed," he began, his voice clear, his inner nerd screaming, Okay, inner Deepak, here's the real talk: MantraDharti's been a total Slime vibe! "House Eldridge has welcomed me with unparalleled warmth, a hearth to rival the Five's grace. Lord Cedric is a father of shonen-tier strength, guiding me like a Demon Slayer mentor with his prodigy might. Lady Amara's love is a lotus blooming in my heart, like an Indian auntie piling my plate with naan-like mana bread. Lady Seraphina's care is a Fruits Basket embrace, soothing my soul. Roland's sword lessons are Danmachi-worthy, his blade flashing like Yorior's spear. Theo's rune tutoring is Tensura-level brilliance, weaving Mayarch's magic. Elise's dance lessons are sweet as Ribha's blossoms, teaching me grace despite my stumbles. Theo's Royal Academy exam was a triumph, his runes dazzling as he earned admission at twelve. Elise's baptism was a festival of lotus lanterns, her Ribha and Nyavya blessings glowing like a Slime core. Lina, my maid, keeps my chambers tighter than a Dragon Maid episode, her diligence forging a friendship that anchors me." His nerdy grin slipped through, his inner voice cheering, Nailed it! That's my Tensura nation report!
Ribha's vines bloomed with lotus flowers, their petals glowing like Diwali lamps, her smile gentle as a monsoon rain. "You have found happiness, as we wished," she said, her warmth enveloping him like Amara's embrace. "House Eldridge's love is your sanctuary, a garden where my blessings bloom, binding you to those you cherish." Her throne pulsed with vitality, its lotuses evoking the sacred rivers of Hindu mythology, a promise of growth and connection.
Yorior laughed, his flames crackling like a Demon Slayer final battle, his throne flaring with spears that gleamed like Parashu's axe. "Training, eh? Got a warrior's spark yet, kid?" he boomed, his brash tone a challenge wrapped in camaraderie. "Your swordplay's got grit—don't let it dull!" His fiery eyes glinted, daring Dominic to rise, like a Tensura warrior facing a beast.
Nyavya's rings clinked, his golden scales tilting with Spice and Wolf cunning, his throne a marketplace of divine trade. "You've traded solitude for family, a bargain well-struck," he said, his smirk approving. "Your status will reflect your growth, a ledger of potential unmatched in MantraDharti's markets." His blessing was a key to opportunities, a merchant's nod to Dominic's worth.
Mayarch's auroras danced, his throne rippling with visions of MantraDharti—lush forests, mana-lit spires, lotus-filled rivers under violet skies. "Your soul shapes MantraDharti's canvas," he said, his voice a mystic hymn like a Tensura world creation. "What stirs you most, young spark, as you stand before the Five?"
Dominic paused, his inner monologue flashing to Noida—late nights, psoriasis's sting, Solo Leveling's pages. "The love of my family, most divine lords," he said, his aristocratic tone heartfelt. "It is a gift beyond measure, a hearth that warms my soul. Lord Cedric's strength, Lady Amara's care, Lady Seraphina's grace, Roland's swords, Theo's runes, Elise's dances, Lina's aid—they weave a home where I am no longer alone, a tapestry of bonds that honor your gift of life." His inner voice added, I'm basically Rimuru building a nation with these guys! No more lonely chai nights, just a Tensura-style family arc!
The gods' laughter echoed, a symphony of war, earth, wisdom, gold, and magic that shook the cosmic chamber, its lotus constellations flaring like a Diwali festival. Gyak's quill flared, and a golden panel shimmered before Dominic, its text blazing like a Tensura status screen:
Name: Dominic Ward von Eldridge
Race: Otherworlder
Titles: Apostle, Hero
Level: 1/∞
HP: 2500/2500
MP: 62500/62500
Luck: 10
Stats:
Strength: 2500
Agility: 2500
Intelligence: 2500
Vitality: 2500
Precision: 2500
Magic Attributes: All (Fire, Water, Earth, Wind, Light, Dark)
Racial Skills:
Language (S): Fluency in all MantraDharti tongues.
Item Box (S): Near-infinite storage.
Superhuman Strength: Immense physical power.
MP Recovery: Rapid mana regeneration.
25X MP: Mana multiplied by 25.
25X HP: Health multiplied by 25.
Title Skills:
Apostle:
Appraisal (S): Rare, S-rank analysis of people/objects.
Divine Beast Summoning/Contracting: Summon or bond with divine creatures.
All Attribute Magic: Access all magic types.
Growth-25X: 25X EXP gain for faster leveling.
Hero:
All Weapon Mastery: Proficiency with all weapons.
Enhancement Magic: Boost stats/equipment.
Stats X Stats: Stats and MP multiplied by themselves.
Growth Benefits-25X: 25X skill proficiency gain.
Other Skills:
Swordsmanship (Intermediate): From Roland's training.
Mana Sense (Basic): From prior encounters.
Mana Bolt (Basic): From prior encounters.
Etiquette (Basic): From Elise's lessons.
Rune Knowledge (Basic): From Theo's guidance.
Unique Skills:
Reincarnation Bonus: 5x stat growth per level.
Status Concealment: Hides full status from others.
Glorious Leader: 1.5x EXP, stats, HP, MP for companions; grants two random Level 2 blessings to allies.
Blessings:
Yorior (God of Strength and War) Level 10
Ribha (Goddess of Love and Earth) Level 10
Gyak (Goddess of Knowledge and Craft) Level 10
Nyavya (God of Commerce and Judgment) Level 10
Mayarch (God of Creation and Magic) Level 10
Dominic's jaw dropped, his inner nerd screaming like Rimuru after absorbing Gluttony. Level 1/∞? 62500 MP? S-rank Appraisal? Glorious Leader? I'm a Slime-style god, ready to rebuild Tempest! His heart raced, picturing himself wielding God's Judgment like Sung Jin-Woo's daggers, his MP pool a Veldora-level storm. This is insane! I'm breaking MantraDharti's system before I even start!
Yorior grinned, his flames surging like a Tensura ultimate skill. "That's power, kid," he boomed. "Wield it like a spear forged in my flames, and MantraDharti will tremble!" His blessing seared Dominic's soul, a vow of strength.
Ribha's vines curled, her warmth a promise. "Let love guide your power, Dominic," she said, her lotuses blooming like Diwali lamps. "You are never alone, a lotus rooted in my earth." Her words echoed Amara's embrace, soothing his past scars.
Gyak's eyes gleamed, her quill dancing. "Learn and create, prodigy," she said, her throne of tomes pulsing. "MantraDharti awaits your chronicle, a story to rival its legends." Her wisdom was a Tensura sage's beacon.
Nyavya smirked, his gold sparkling. "A fortune unmatched," he said, his scales balancing. "Spend it wisely, young merchant, in MantraDharti's markets." His blessing was a Spice and Wolf deal sealed.
Mayarch's auroras flared, his voice a mystic call. "Shape the world, or live within it," he said, his throne rippling with visions. "The choice is yours, boundless one." His blessing was a canvas of infinite hues.
Dominic bowed, his aristocratic tone steady despite his panic. "My gratitude to you, divine lords, is boundless," he said, his inner nerd screaming, Holy crap, I'm a cheat code! Gotta keep this under wraps or I'm done!Status Concealment hummed, hiding his board from all but himself. Thank you, gods, for the ultimate ninja skill!
The white world blazed, and the temple snapped back, time resuming. The priestess lowered the crystal, her eyes wide, sensing something extraordinary yet unable to see Dominic's board, veiled by Status Concealment. Lina's status board glowed publicly, its text shimmering for the crowd:
Name: Lina Velle
Race: Human
Title: None
Level: 1/50
HP: 100/100
MP: 50/50
Luck: 10
Stats:
Strength: 10
Agility: 10
Intelligence: 10
Vitality: 10
Precision: 10
Magic Attributes: Earth
Skills:
Housekeeping (Basic): Expert cleaning/organization.
Organization (Basic): Efficient task management.
Blessings:
Ribha (Goddess of Love and Earth) Level 3
Nyavya (God of Commerce and Judgment) Level 3
The crowd murmured approval, their finery rustling, lotus lanterns pulsing overhead. Lina's hazel eyes widened, meeting Dominic's with awe, her blush deepening. She's a prodigy, but I'm a god-tier secret, Dominic thought, his inner nerd panicking. Level Ten blessings, 62500 MP? If they see this, I'm MantraDharti's next big plot twist! No more chai and training—just quests and spotlight like Sung Jin-Woo!
Cedric's voice broke through, kind but laced with curiosity, his prodigy aura glowing like a Tensura leader. "Dominic, your status—pray, share it with us," he said, his hazel eyes keen. "S-rank Appraisal is a rare gift, seldom seen beyond ranks F to B, even among prodigies." His interest was palpable, a Margrave's pride mixed with a father's hope.
Dominic's heart raced, his inner nerd screaming, Crap, they'll know I'm a cheat code! Level Ten blessings, 62500 MP? I'll be a walking Slime plot twist! He swallowed, his aristocratic tone masking his panic. "My lord father, I must confess a peculiarity," he said, his voice steady but his soul trembling. "My status is veiled by a skill—Status Concealment—which I have yet to master revealing. I assure you, I shall learn its workings and present my board anon. Yet, I am blessed with Level Four blessings from all five gods, a mark of the Five's favor." He lied, his gentle nature crafting a believable half-truth, his inner voice sighing, Level Four sounds prodigy enough, right? Gotta keep this Tensura secret under wraps like Rimuru's early slime days.
Amara's eyes shimmered with tears, her hand squeezing his, her voice a monsoon lullaby. "Level Four from all five? Oh, my dear, you are a prodigy beyond measure!" Her sari-like gown pulsed, her love enveloping him like a Diwali embrace.
Cedric clapped Dominic's shoulder, his pride beaming. "Well done, my son," he said, his strength a pillar. "Your gifts honor House Eldridge. Show us your board when you are ready, and let the Five's light guide you." His words were warm, unaware of the god-tier truth hidden beneath Dominic's lie.
Lina's gaze met his, her awe tinged with warmth. "Master Dominic, Level Four is extraordinary," she said softly, her Ribha-blessed heart sparkling. Dominic smiled, his inner voice relieved. Safe for now, but I'm walking a Tensura-style tightrope. Gotta stay low-key.
The priestess bowed, her voice reverent. "Lina Velle, your status shines as a prodigy's," she said, her staff glowing. "Dominic, your words herald great promise. The Five have blessed you both, weaving your threads into MantraDharti's tapestry." The crowd erupted in applause, their murmurs of "prodigy" and "Eldridge" echoing, lotus lanterns flaring like a Diwali festival.
Dominic's mind raced, his year in MantraDharti flashing like a Tensura montage. House Eldridge had healed his solitude—Cedric's strength, a pillar like a Tensura leader; Amara's warmth, an Indian auntie's embrace; Seraphina's care, a Fruits Basket balm. Roland's sword lessons had forged his Swordsmanship (Intermediate), Theo's rune tutoring sparked Rune Knowledge (Basic), Elise's dance lessons taught Etiquette (Basic). Theo's Royal Academy admission at twelve had lit the estate with joy, his runes dazzling like a Tensura sage. Elise's baptism, with lotus lanterns and Ribha chants, had revealed her Level 3 blessings, a festival echoing Diwali. Lina's diligence—organizing his room, cheering his training—had woven a Mushoku Tensei-style bond, her shy smiles a harem spark.
From Noida's loneliness to this, Dominic thought, Deepak's shadow fading. No psoriasis, no client emails—just family, Lina, and a status board that screams OP. Gotta hide it like Rimuru before going full Demon Lord. He bowed to the priestess, his aristocratic manners flawless. "We are honored by the Five's grace," he said, his heart steadying. MantraDharti's my home, and I'm keeping it normal—for now.
Chapter 5: The Gods' Gifts Unveiled
The mana-lit glow of Dominic Ward von Eldridge's chambers bathed the room in a golden warmth, casting intricate shadows across walls adorned with lotus-patterned tapestries, their silken threads shimmering like Diwali lamps under the Five Pillars' divine radiance. At ten years old, Dominic was a world away from Deepak's solitary nights in Noida, his baptism in the Five Pillars temple having unveiled a status board that screamed Solo Leveling cheat code: Level: 1/∞, HP 2500, MP 62500, stats at 2500, Level 10 blessings from Yorior, Ribha, Gyak, Nyavya, and Mayarch, and unlimited skills hidden by Status Concealment. His lie about Level 4 blessings had kept his family—Lord Cedric, Lady Amara, Lady Seraphina—at bay, but the weight of his god-tier power pressed heavily, a secret that could upend the normal life he'd come to cherish in MantraDharti. His room, a sanctuary within the Eldridge estate, was a testament to that life: a polished oak desk held tomes on mana theory and rune crafting, their pages glowing faintly with Gyak's wisdom; a wooden sword leaned against a lotus-carved stand, a gift from Roland's training; and a silver tray steamed with chai, its cardamom aroma a nod to Deepak's Indian roots, grounding him in this fantastical world.
I'm living the Tensura dream, Rimuru-style! Dominic thought, his inner nerd buzzing like Great Sage analyzing a new skill. Level Ten blessings, 62500 MP, no cap? I'm a cheat code ready to rebuild Tempest! But gotta stay low-key or I'm MantraDharti's next Sung Jin-Woo, stuck in a Danmachi-level quest. His aristocratic poise, honed over a year in House Eldridge, masked his nerdy excitement, his jet-black hair catching the mana-lights as he sat cross-legged on his bed, its lotus-embroidered canopy glowing like a Diwali festival.
Lina Velle, his ten-year-old prodigy maid and childhood friend, perched on a cushioned chair, her chestnut braids neat beneath a lotus-embroidered apron, her hazel eyes bright with the glow of her recent baptism. Her status—Level 1/50, Ribha and Nyavya Level 3 blessings, Earth attribute, Housekeeping and Organization skills—marked her as a prodigy among servants, her diligence a spark that had woven a Mushoku Tensei-style bond with Dominic. She fidgeted, her apron rustling, still awed by the temple's lotus-lit grandeur. "Master Dominic," she said, her voice soft but tinged with excitement, "your baptism was… extraordinary. The Five's favor upon you is a marvel." Her Ribha-blessed warmth sparkled, a Dragon Maid sidekick's loyalty shining through.
Dominic smiled, his aristocratic tone polished despite his inner nerd screaming, She's giving Kanna vibes, blushing over my hidden OP stats! "Lady Lina, your kind words honor me," he said, his voice steady. "The Five's grace has blessed us both, and I am eager to explore the gifts they have bestowed." Okay, that was noble enough. Time to open the Tensura-style loot crate! Let's see what Nyavya's Item Box is packing.
Lina's cheeks flushed, her hazel eyes sparkling with a harem spark. "I would be honored to witness such divine gifts, Master Dominic," she said, her voice soft but eager. Harem arc intensifying, Dominic thought, chuckling inwardly. Gotta focus—divine gacha time! He gestured to the bed, where his S-rank Item Box, a gift from Nyavya, hummed in his soul, its sealed satchel now unlocked post-baptism. "Lady Lina, pray join me," he said, his tone regal. "Let us unveil the Five's treasures together."
The room was a haven of MantraDharti's noble splendor, its lotus tapestries depicting the Five Pillars—Yorior's blazing spear, Ribha's blooming vines, Gyak's starlit quill, Nyavya's golden scales, Mayarch's swirling auroras—each thread pulsing with mana like a Diwali lamp. The air carried the scent of chai and sandalwood, a blend of Deepak's heritage and MantraDharti's magic, grounding Dominic as he prepared to access his Item Box. Outside, the estate's gardens bloomed with mana-infused lotuses, their petals glowing under a violet sky, a festival-like scene that echoed the temple's grandeur. The wooden sword, polished by Lina's diligence, stood as a testament to his training with Roland, while tomes on Theo's runes and Elise's etiquette lessons lined his shelves, their mana-infused pages a nod to House Eldridge's prodigy legacy.
Dominic focused, his Item Box (S) skill flaring like a Tensura magic activation, mana swirling around him like Rimuru's aura before a spell. A satchel materialized on his bed, its leather etched with lotus runes that pulsed with divine power, each symbol a miniature galaxy of Yorior's fire, Ribha's earth, Gyak's wisdom, Nyavya's gold, and Mayarch's auroras. The air thrummed, the room's mana-lights flickering as if bowing to the gods' gift, the chai's steam curling in reverence. Dominic's heart raced, his inner nerd buzzing, Jackpot! This is the Danmachi loot drop of a lifetime, straight out of Rimuru's inventory! He opened the satchel, revealing five glowing rune stones and two shimmering items, their radiance casting lotus patterns across the walls, a Diwali festival in miniature.
"Lady Lina, behold the Five's generosity," Dominic said, his aristocratic tone steady, his inner voice screaming, Holy crap, it's a Slime-style gacha pull! Let's unbox this divine haul! Lina leaned closer, her hazel eyes wide, her breath catching as the rune stones glowed—sapphire, emerald, ruby, amethyst, and gold—each pulsing with divine intent like a Tensura core.
The rune stones radiated power, their skills permanent, a gift beyond mortal limits:
Teleportation Magic: A sapphire stone, cool as a monsoon breeze, its facets refracting blue light like a Slime warp portal. Dominic crushed it, mana surging through his soul like a Tensura skill acquisition, granting instant travel to any place he'd seen. Warp speed, Rimuru-style! I'm zipping around like Great Sage's teleportation! he thought, his inner nerd cheering as the skill rooted in his status board.
Barrier Magic: An emerald stone, pulsing with protective energy like Ribha's vines. Crushing it birthed a shield instinct, barriers against any attack—physical or magical. Bell Cranel's tank mode, but make it Tensura OP! The mana felt like a lotus blooming around his soul, a Diwali lamp of defense.
Full Recovery: A ruby stone, warm as chai, its glow evoking Ribha's healing warmth. It shattered, granting a spell to restore HP and MP to 100%, usable every two hours. OP healing with a cooldown? Danmachi adventurers wish they had this! Dominic's inner voice buzzed, picturing Rimuru's recovery skills.
Gravity Magic: An amethyst stone, heavy with potential, its purple light swirling like Mayarch's auroras. It broke, unlocking gravity control—lifting, crushing, perhaps flying. This is Hunter x Hunter meets Tensura's ultimate skills! The mana weighed on his soul, a cosmic force ready to reshape battlefields.
Epiphany: A golden stone, aptly named, its radiance like Nyavya's scales. It granted insight to see an opponent's skill mechanics—a fireball's mana flow, a sword stance's balance—and copy them instantly, one at the same level per combat, up to three at lower levels per day, no repeats on the same opponent. A Naruto Sharingan hack for skills! I'm stealing moves like Rimuru absorbing Gluttony! Dominic's heart raced, his nerdy excitement spiking.
His status board updated, the new skills joining his unlimited slots, glowing in his mind like a Tensura interface:
Other Skills:
Swordsmanship (Intermediate): From Roland's training.
Mana Sense (Basic): From prior encounters.
Mana Bolt (Basic): From prior encounters.
Etiquette (Basic): From Elise's lessons.
Rune Knowledge (Basic): From Theo's guidance.
Teleportation Magic (Basic): Permanent, instant travel.
Barrier Magic (Basic): Permanent, protective shields.
Full Recovery (Basic): Permanent, restores HP/MP every two hours.
Gravity Magic (Basic): Permanent, gravity control.
Epiphany (Basic): Permanent, copy one skill at same level per combat, up to three at lower levels per day, no repeats.
Dominic's inner nerd screamed, Unlimited slots, 25X skill gains, Epiphany's a Sharingan cheat? I'm a Slime-style god! He kept his expression composed, nodding to Lina. "These rune stones are a divine boon, Lady Lina," he said, his aristocratic tone steady. Gotta stay noble, not geek out like a Tensura fanboy.
Lina's eyes widened, her Nyavya-blessed order marveling. "Master Dominic, such power… it's beyond mortal craft," she said, her blush deepening, a Mushoku Tensei harem spark igniting. Dominic's kindness in sharing the moment warmed her, her Ribha-blessed heart fluttering.
He lifted God's Judgment, a sword pulsing with divine light, its hilt carved with Hindu mythology symbols—Sudarshan Chakra's disc, Parashu's axe, Trishula's prongs—Deepak's heritage woven into MantraDharti's magic. The blade shimmered, morphing into the Sudarshan Chakra, a spinning disc of Vishnu's might, its edges crackling with divine energy. It shifted again, becoming the Gandiv Bow, taut with Arjuna's precision, then the Kaumodiki Gada, heavy with Hanuman's strength, and Parashu, Parashuram's axe of unrelenting force. It could become any Hindu god's weapon, syncing with his All Weapon Mastery. Vishnu's arsenal meets Danmachi's Hestia Knife! Dominic thought, swinging the sword form with noble grace. "Behold, Lady Lina, a weapon befitting the Five's favor," he said, his voice regal.
Lina's breath caught, her hazel eyes sparkling. "It is… divine, Master Dominic," she said, her blush intensifying, his kindness sowing harem seeds. "Its forms are a marvel, like the gods themselves."
Finally, he lifted God's Protection, a living armor that shimmered into a lotus-embroidered tunic, its mana melding with his form like a Tensura ultimate gear. Its defense—3x his 2500 HP, a staggering 7500—promised invincibility, growing with his power. Iron Man with a Slime twist! he thought, feeling its strength amplify his Superhuman Strength. "This armor shall guard me well, Lady Lina," he said, his tone noble. "A gift to honor House Eldridge."
Lina nodded, her awe palpable. "It is magnificent, Master Dominic," she said, her voice soft, her heart fluttering like Kanna's in Dragon Maid.
Dominic's mind flashed to his year in MantraDharti, a Tensura-style montage of love and growth. House Eldridge had healed his solitude—Cedric's strength, a pillar like a Tensura leader; Amara's warmth, an Indian auntie's embrace; Seraphina's care, a Fruits Basket balm. Roland's sword lessons, blades flashing like Yorior's spears, had forged Swordsmanship. Theo's rune tutoring, mana glowing like Mayarch's auroras, sparked Rune Knowledge. Elise's dance lessons, graceful as Ribha's blossoms, taught Etiquette, her laughter easing his stumbles. Theo's Royal Academy admission at twelve, his runes dazzling like a Tensura sage, had sparked a feast with chai and naan-like bread. Elise's baptism, with lotus lanterns and Ribha chants, had lit the estate with Diwali-like joy, her Level 3 blessings a prodigy's triumph. Lina's diligence—organizing his room, cheering his training—had woven a Mushoku Tensei-style bond, her shy smiles a harem spark.
From Noida's loneliness to this, Dominic thought, Deepak's shadow fading. No psoriasis, no emails—just family, Lina, and god-tier loot. I'm living the Slime dream! He sipped his chai, its warmth grounding him, and smiled. "Lady Lina," he said, his aristocratic tone warm, "these gifts—Epiphany's skill-stealing prowess, God's Judgment's divine forms—are a marvel. Shall we study their intricacies together, to honor the Five's trust?" His kindness sowed harem seeds, a prodigy's gesture.
Lina nodded, her smile bright, her Ribha-blessed heart fluttering. "I would be honored, Master Dominic," she said. "Your generosity is… truly remarkable." Her awe, like Kanna's, was a spark for the future.
No level cap, 62500 MP, MantraDharti's mine, Dominic thought, grinning. Let's make it epic, Slime-style.