Satomi Mikami used to think her life was boring.
Wake up, work, read manga, ignore people in relationships. Repeat until retirement or death—whichever came first. Turns out death came first.
Now she was a blue slime.
And yes, blue. Being female didn't mean she had to be pink, thank you very much. She liked blue better anyway—calm, clean, easy on the eyes. The universe finally agreed.
Rimuru Tempest—the name still felt surreal—had just finished organizing her small goblin village. The goblins were thriving, the wolves she'd beaten were now Tempest Wolves, and for the first time since reincarnation, things were peaceful.
Or they had been.
Then something had arrived—a chaotic monster that made the whole forest quake. The lesser monsters fled, gathering near her village like frightened children. It was a miracle the trees were still standing.
Rimuru tried to ignore it, but the need to get some good material got the better of her. So here she was, riding Ranga through the forest on her way to the Dwarven city of Dwargon, enjoying a bit of breeze through her nonexistent hair, pretending the forest didn't still smell like ozone and fear.
That's when she saw them.
A man and a woman walking along the road. Both gave off the kind of presence that made the air itself hesitate.
They feel kinda weird…
Received. These individuals appear to be suppressing their magicules,
Her Great Sage informed her.
"Oh good," Rimuru muttered, "so they're creepy and polite about it."
The woman noticed her first—a tall, graceful figure with hair white as snow and eyes sharp enough to slice through pride. Beside her walked a man with faintly glowing blue and orange horns curling back from his head, his posture casual but aura enormous.
The woman spoke first. "A slime riding a wolf, surrounded by goblins. That's… new."
The man tilted his head. "Hello there!"
Rimuru puffed slightly, which for a slime meant vibrating indignantly. "You are a bold one."
Both of them blinked. Then the horned man's expression cracked into disbelief.
"Someone who understands a Star Wars reference… in this world?"
She grinned. "Ah, you're a man of culture as well."
They both laughed, confusing the white-haired woman who looked between them with mild suspicion.
"Do you two… know each other?" she asked.
"Nah," the man said easily. "We just come from the same kind of crazy place."
"Hi, I'm Rimuru."
"Lucian," he replied, nodding. "And this is my dragon sidekick."
At that, the temperature dropped a few degrees. The woman's calm eyes flicked toward him.
Rimuru blinked. "Ohh, I have a dragon sidekick too! He's just, uh… currently sealed."
"You must mean my idiotic brother Veldora. Good thing he's still trapped. Maybe, after a few more centuries, he'll learn restraint," the woman said with a smile.
Rimuru almost slipped off Ranga. Brother? Wait—what kind of family reunion am I walking into?
Lucian just looked amused. "Small world," he murmured.
---
By the time they set off toward Dwargon, Rimuru had decided two things:
First, Lucian was weird.
Second, Valzard—apparently a walking natural disaster with impeccable hair—was terrifyingly composed, unlike her brother.
"You should probably disguise yourself," Lucian said as they walked. "You'll cause mass panic if people realize who you are."
"Don't worry," Valzard replied with the calm authority of someone who could freeze kingdoms. "I'm already hiding my magicules. And it's not as if many have seen my face. Those who have…" she smiled faintly, "are smart enough not to spread the tale."
Rimuru called from behind, "Hey! Don't act all lovey-dovey in front of the genderless slime!"
Lucian laughed. "What, you looking for romance in this world? You should've done it when you could back in the old one!"
Rimuru gasped. "Wait—you told her about Earth? I was being careful not to mention it!"
"Relax, slime-chan," he said, waving a hand. "I don't mind. So—how was your old life?"
"Oh, you know… boring. I was Satomi Mikami—overworked, underpaid, thirtyish, single, manga enthusiast, died protecting my junior. Classic tragic heroine stuff."
Lucian blinked. "Wait, wait—you were a girl?"
"Excuse me? You thought I was a guy?" Rimuru hopped indignantly. "It's the blue, isn't it? Why does everyone associate blue with boys? That's colourist, you horned stereotype!"
He scratched the back of his head, looking genuinely embarrassed. "I just… thought Rimuru sounded masculine."
"It's unisex! Probably! And it's not like I chose it anyway. Veldora did."
Valzard chuckled softly at that, her tone fond and distant. "That does sound like him."
"So both of you reincarnated to this world, and both of you not only met two different True Dragons but were also named by them? I'm surprised," Valzard mused.
"Welcome to my afterlife," Rimuru said dryly.
---
The road to Dwargon stretched long and carved through ridges of stone. As they approached, the air grew warmer, scented faintly with magma and iron. By the time the mountain city came into view, Rimuru's curiosity had reached critical mass.
It was breathtaking.
Massive stone gates rose from the cliffside like the jaws of a giant, their runes glowing in deep amber light. The distant hammering of forges echoed through the cavern mouth, mingling with the steady hum of enchantments that kept the air cool.
"Whoa," Rimuru whispered. "It's like Minas Tirith and a forge had a baby."
Lucian chuckled. "You're not wrong."
They passed through the gates without trouble—apparently Valzard's "nobody recognizes me" statement wasn't a bluff. The guards barely dared look up. Rimuru bounced happily along the polished stone road, drinking in the sights: dwarves hauling carts of ore, merchants arguing, adventurers swaggering.
Lucian stayed a few steps behind, his hands in his pockets, eyes lazily scanning the crowds.
Valzard's presence pressed gently against the city like winter air through a half-open window—imperceptible to most, but every sensitive creature instinctively avoided her path.
They found Kaijin's workshop soon after, and the day unfolded much like Lucian remembered from the show: Kaijin's brother injured, Rimuru stepping in to heal him with pure slime efficiency, dwarves gasping in disbelief.
Lucian leaned on the doorframe, watching.
He could have done the same with a flick of his power—but seeing Rimuru work with cheerful precision was oddly comforting. She made even miracles look domestic.
{Rimuru Affection Score increased by +15}
{5x Multiplier Applied.}
{Total Increase: +75.}
{Current Score: 0 → 75.}
{Relationship Type: Stranger → Friends.}
{Affection Threshold: Unknown → Interest / Care.}
He had gotten this notification back when they had just met and she had found that he was an Otherwolder too.
He hid a small smile. Guess the slushy works too.
---
That evening, Rimuru insisted on visiting the elf bar.
"Because," she explained, "elves are basically the original fantasy girls. I have a duty as a former otaku to see if reality lives up to expectation."
Lucian gave her a knowing smirk. "You realize you sound like every protagonist who dies of nosebleed before the third act?"
"Don't ruin this for me!"
Valzard came too, of course—though she declined to drink, merely watching with a faintly amused detachment as Rimuru gushed over the elves' beauty and Lucian pretended to take notes for 'research purposes.'
For a moment, it almost felt normal—three strangers sharing drinks, laughter, and half-truths in a city carved from stone.
---
Then came that scene.
Kaijin struck Vesta across the face after he insulted Rimuru. The bar went silent. Guards swarmed, dragging Kaijin away. Rimuru's protest echoed down the corridor.
Lucian sighed. "Here we go again."
They followed to the court—a vast hall carved from obsidian, its throne raised high upon molten pillars. King Gazel Dwargo sat there, his presence commanding, his armor gleaming like forged sunlight.
After the hearing, Gazel exiled Kaijin and his group.
Rimuru looked uneasy. "Hey, Lucian… you and Valzard could do something, right? You're, you know, powerful beings."
Lucian arched a brow. "Just wait and watch. It's just an exile, and you can even invite them to your village too."
Valzard said nothing, standing beside him like a statue carved from frost and light. Her aura was serene, but it bent the air around her, subtle enough that even the guards avoided standing too close.
As the trial began, Gazel's gaze swept over them—first the goblins, then the slime, then the horned stranger… and finally, the woman.
He had just heard the name Valzard, and looking at the woman, he knew it was her.
For the briefest instant, all the warmth in the hall died.
The torches guttered, flames dimming as if in reverence—or fear.
The King of Dwargon, a warrior who had faced demons and gods, froze mid-sentence. His hand trembled ever so slightly upon the armrest.
Lucian noticed, of course. He leaned sideways, whispering with a smirk, "Aaand there it is. Recognition. I give it five seconds before he starts sweating."
Rimuru blinked. "Huh? What's wrong with him?"
Valzard didn't move. Her eyes met Gazel's across the hall—calm, knowing, timeless. She didn't need to speak. Her name alone was enough.
The name Valzard carried the weight of an ancient storm—the Frost Dragon whose existence blurred myth and reality. Few still remembered her. Fewer dared to speak of her.
Gazel swallowed hard, color draining from his face.
The court was still noisy, yet the silence of Gazel lingered.
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A/n: Who should be the first girl?