「 ✦ Rimuru Tempest ✦ 」
There was a fleeting sensation of shock coursing through me as I awoke, and a strange sense of unfamiliarity washed over my own body. I was guessing this was what it meant to assume my human form by default.
Granted, it has been so long since I last transformed into a slime that my default form being human didn't seem so bad. It probably wouldn't take long to get used to—but still, the oddity of what felt like actual blood and flesh inside my body was certainly weird.
I flexed my fingers experimentally, watching the way muscle and tendon moved beneath skin that looked deceptively fragile.
<
Oh—the Sage? But he felt different this time. More fluent, probably, evident by the fact that he called me master, but was there any special meaning to that?
<
Ultimate skills—Veldora mentioned something about that. It was apparently the last stage for skill evolution. So my reliable partner has become even more reliable, huh?
That's great then!
I sighed internally as I looked around. My surroundings were extremely bright, and it seemed the cocoon that birthed my evolution was still here—but other than a leftover excess of magicules, it didn't have any use any longer.
"Get rid of this, Raphael," I whispered to myself.
<
And suddenly, as if there was nothing here all along, the entire thing got sucked away without so much as a whisper.
Belzebuth, huh? I'm guessing that's Gluttony's evolved form then—these powers, ultimate or whatever, seemed to be deeply rooted within my core. Maybe because I'd taken a moment to become more aware of what was happening inside of me that I was able to discern the natures of my powers now.
Belzebuth.
Uriel.
Raphael.
These three coalesced around my soul but never quite mixed with each other. They just orbited like planets around a star, each distinct yet part of something greater.
<
Yeah. Makes sense.
All that thinking happened in just a second, courtesy of Raphael's Thought Acceleration. So I took a moment longer to stay afloat in the middle of the sky and survey my surroundings with Universal Sense.
Hajime's aircraft was hovering a bit far from me, and I sensed that they were fine so I put my focus into other matters. There were no survivors from my assault as expected, and as I was in the middle of self-appreciation, I sensed a strange disturbance in space to the west.
Right. Straight to business just after I woke up.
I always thought it was strange that I wasn't interrupted during my evolution, but it seemed the Sage back then—now Raphael—took extra precautions to ensure my presence didn't reach farther than necessary. But now those gods couldn't ignore the presence that had descended upon their conquered world, and they had begun to move.
Any ideas, Raphael?
<
Oh, On Time was that one skill that offered Godstep and Godspeed—and now it apparently evolved into Spacetime Manipulation. Moreover, On Time served as the basis and foundation of Uriel. Raphael apparently combined my many skills and abilities into it, so it was an assortment of the various things I could do and embodied my very versatility.
Right.
I struck out my hand toward the west, feeling myself grasping the space around me. The sensation was strange—like touching something that wasn't quite there but responded to my will anyway. I had been to the far west once when I conquered the Gruen Volcano so I had a reference for coordinates to make this whole thing easier.
And then I closed my fist and the dimensions folded upon themselves—then in the next moment, I was in the desert. That was an odd sensation by itself, if I had to admit.
It felt different from the Spatial Motion I was previously used to. This one felt quicker and smoother, like stepping through a door instead of forcing my way through a wall. An ultimate skill's governance over spacetime just happened to be that much more seamless, I reasoned.
I descended onto the ground below. Strong winds carrying sand and dust cut through the air here, creating whirlwinds that danced across the dunes. Even still, the obscured vision could not hide the presence I was here for. Well, it seemed like she wasn't even trying to hide herself in the first place.
"You look like you're already mourning me," a voice cut through the harsh sandy winds.
I turned around and took a look at my target. Hel, Goddess of Death. She stood there as if the desert wind didn't affect her at all, her dark hair somehow remaining perfectly still despite the sandstorm around us.
"I was mourning the you that might've walked away—instead of deliberately inviting me here," I said as I steadied myself for a confrontation.
"Would you have let me?" She asked. There was a sincerity to her voice that I wasn't used to. "Walk away, I mean?"
I paused for a moment, looking deep into her green eyes. They held a sadness that seemed to go beyond even her godhood. Those eyes that had seen the end of countless lives, yet somehow still held something almost human.
"No," I answered simply.
"See? You already knew we're going to do this. And you've already accepted it. Well, it's not like there was a chance I would've walked away anyway."
"Yeah, well, uh, I didn't exactly come here to talk."
She chuckled, the sound pleasant to my ears despite the circumstances. "Right. You were never good at talking things out with me."
"I know. And you were never good at leaving me alone," I replied. "But there was a time I did consider us as friends, Hel."
She didn't say anymore. She just deepened her smile, and I caught something in her expression that made me pause. Part of me wondered if she really did see and feel something between us—if she was really as genuine as she had claimed—since her expression was tinged with what almost looked like reluctance over the fact that we were about to kill each other.
And then she spoke again. "I still do. Do you ever think we could talk this out?"
"Isn't that what we're doing right now?" I questioned back.
"No, I mean really talk. Sit under a dead tree. Drink something vile. You say something stupid, I pretend to laugh."
"You're bad at pretending, Hel."
"And you're worse at saying jokes. You'd be lucky if I even listened." She paused again, not taking her eyes off of mine. The wind picked up slightly, stirring the sand between us. "But I think we would've lived off it."
"You think?"
I didn't think so, and it seemed she agreed deep down. There was too much disparity between us, too many lines already crossed.
"Until one of us gave in," she finally said, heaving a sigh to herself.
"And here we are," I conjured a sword. Dark Plasma felt more powerful than ever now that I had a Demon Lord's Haki to go along with it. The blade shone an eerie black light, casting strange shadows in the desert light.
"Yeah. Here we are," Hel responded as she drew her own whip.
It was a terrible but fascinating thing, her whip. The leather seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it, and when she snapped it experimentally, the sound echoed across the desert like thunder. The sand beneath us turned to glass where the tip touched it, creating a small crater of crystallized earth.
We stood there for a moment, weapons drawn, the wind howling around us. God and demon lord facing each other in this empty wasteland. The desolate setting felt strangely appropriate.
"Any last words?" I asked, not unkindly.
"Yeah. Try not to hate me too much if I kill you."
"I don't hate you, Hel," I sighed, smiling despite myself. "I honestly don't think I ever will."
And that was the truth. I didn't hate her. I was disappointed, frustrated by her circumstances, determined to kill her just as I had promised to kill all the gods—but hate? No. Hate was too simple an emotion for something this complicated. What I felt was more like regret for what could have been.
Even if I used to deny it, we really did click—Hel and I.
"I know," she said softly, and there was genuine pain in her voice. "That makes this so much worse."
The wind died down suddenly, leaving us in perfect silence. The calm before the storm where one of us wouldn't be leaving. I saw it in her eyes just as she saw it in mine—that strange understanding between killers, between those who had reached the end of all other options.
Neither of us has moved yet. We both knew that once we started, there would be no going back. There'd be no room for mercy or hesitation. It would just be the end of what would probably have been fascinating in another world—in another life.