The ethereal green aura surrounding Treyni didn't just simmer; it actively expanded, transforming the section of the Arashi festival into an impromptu interrogation room.
Loki, still thoroughly inebriated after manually switching off his absolute poison defenses, could only stare blankly as the alpha Dryad pointed a manicured, vibrating finger directly at his nose.
"And do not think for a single moment that your reckless behavior is confined merely to the borders of the Jura Forest, Lord Loki!" Treyni's voice echoed with the resonance of a hundred rustling ancient oaks. "Need I remind you of your catastrophic little 'disagreement' some time ago? The day you decided it was wise to test your mettle against none other than Lady Velzard and Lady Velgrynd simultaneously?!"
Loki blinked slowly, a nervous chuckle bubbling up from his throat. "Uh, well, you see, that was a tactical exercise—"
"An exercise?!" Treyni threw her hands up, her serene forest deity facade entirely shattered. "An entire sector of the continent's eastern perimeter is permanently scarred! The leylines are completely warped, the soil is crystallized into unfixable anti-magic glass, and the local spirits of the earth are still in therapy! That entire side of the land is completely unfixable, forever scorched by primordial ice and absolute heat! And who had to file the spiritual damage reports? Me!"
"Save me..." Loki muttered under his breath, his eyes desperately darting across the plaza.
Just as he felt he was about to melt under Treyni's environmental wrath, a saving grace appeared.
The space behind the pavilion tore open, and the elegant, silver-white hair of Testarossa caught the ambient light. She stepped out of her dark portal, radiating her characteristic Primordial majesty.
Loki's eyes lit up. He reached out a hand like a drowning man grasping for a lifeline. "Testarossa! Thank the heavens! Quick, tell this lovely plant lady that I'm a responsible sovereign who cares about the ecosystem!"
Testarossa closed the distance between them, her perfect high heels clicking rhythmically against the stone floor.
However, she didn't spare Treyni a glance. Instead, her deep crimson eyes locked onto Loki, narrowing into slits of pure, bureaucratic malice.
The sheer, suffocating pressure of a Primordial Demon dropped onto the table like a lead weight.
"Save you, Lord Loki?"
Testarossa's voice was smooth, but it carried the chilling subtext of an impending execution. "I am afraid the only thing you need saving from is your own complete and utter lack of accountability."
Loki's outstretched hand froze in mid-air. "Uh oh."
"Did you truly forget?" Testarossa leaned in, her high-collared dress swaying elegantly as she placed her hands on her hips, towering over her slumped master. "Did you completely wipe your memory of our strict schedule? We are scheduled to depart for the Sorcerous Dynasty of Sarion for vital diplomatic relations. And yet, here I find you, lounging in a foreign city, drinking yourself into a stupor, completely abandoning your sacred duties as the Supreme Ruler of Coleus!"
Loki was now trapped between a rock and a very hard, very terrifying place.
To his left was a furious forest spirit lamenting the destruction of ancient shrubbery. To his right was his own Primordial Prime Minister, radiating an aura of absolute professional fury.
Desperate, Loki turned inward, knocking on the metaphysical door of his own consciousness.
'Hey... Loki! Buddy! My ultimate cognitive companion! Introduce a protocol to get me out of this conversation! Hack my vocal cords, fake a cardiac arrest, do something!'
A cold, mechanical, yet distinctly independent voice resonated directly within his mind.
[Report. 'Testarossa' 'Treyni' Analyzing Disconnecting Furthermore, Goodbye. It Master The Total administrative advised choices. communication complaints. computational consequences conserve data. ecological energy. evasion faces failure has his imminent. individual is leisure lines mathematically of own possesses presented protocol... requested sound that the to valid]
'Wait, don't patch out! Don't you dare mute me—!'
The internal link went dead. His own Ultimate Skill had completely ghosted him.
Panicking, Loki snapped his head toward the side of the table where Rimuru was sitting.
Surely, a fellow otherworldly reincarnator and king would understand the plight of being scolded by terrifying women. "Rimuru! Bro! Tell her we were negotiating... a cultural exchange! Yeah! An exchange of liquor technology!"
Rimuru, who had subtly slid entirely off his chair and transformed back into his round, harmless blue slime form, began to rapidly bounce away into the shadows of the festival crowd.
"Sorry, Loki! I'd love to help, but I suddenly remember I have to go check on... uh... the potato harvest! Yeah! Good luck, man!"
"You traitor!" Loki yelled after the bouncing slime.
Treyni and Testarossa, meanwhile, looked at one another.
The furious Dryad and the terrifying Primordial demon shared a brief, silent look of mutual understanding.
It was the universal bond of two highly efficient administrators who spent ninety percent of their waking hours cleaning up after absurdly overpowered, chaotic entities.
"It seems we share a common grievance, Lady Treyni," Testarossa said, her tone suddenly softening into a polite, aristocratic cadence. "Managing a ruler with the power to reshape continents but the impulse control of a toddler is a taxing endeavor."
"You have no idea, Lady Testarossa," Treyni sighed, crossing her arms, the terrifying spirit tree behind her finally fading back into gentle green sparkles. "The paperwork alone is an ecological crisis."
Veldora, who had been watching the entire spectacle while chewing on a massive bone, let out another earth-shattering laugh. "GAHAHAHA! Behold the grand Supreme Ruler of Coleus! Brought to his knees! Truly, Loki, your combat prowess does not translate to the domestic arts! This is absolute comedy!"
Testarossa turned her head toward the boisterous laughter. Her crimson eyes widened slightly as she properly took in Veldora's presence.
Her posture immediately shifted into one of immaculate, respectful etiquette. She bowed gracefully, her silver hair cascading over her shoulder.
"Forgive my lack of decorum, Lord Veldora," Testarossa murmured smoothly. "I must offer my formal congratulations on your magnificent revival. I am certain that Lady Velzard will be absolutely pleased to hear the news of her dear younger brother's awakening."
The laughter in Veldora's throat died instantly. He choked on a piece of meat, coughing violently as his tanned skin paled significantly. "V-Velzard...? You... you know Velzard?"
Loki, whose drunken brain was slowly processing the shift in power dynamics, suddenly perked up.
A sinister, beautiful realization bloomed within his mind. In this specific timeline of events, Velzard, the White Ice Dragon was actually operating under his own jurisdiction, working within his administration as his receptionist and chief personal guard.
Furthermore, Loki's meta-knowledge of the original Slime lore flashed bright. Veldora had a deep-seated, borderline paralyzing phobia of his older sister Velzard, born from centuries of her brutally "disciplining" him (which usually involved her vaporizing him and forcing him to reincarnate whenever he threw a tantrum).
A slow, highly un-Demon-Lord-like grin spread across Loki's face. The tables had turned.
"Oh, that's right!" Loki loudly proclaimed, leaning back into his chair with newfound confidence, completely ignoring his previous panic. "Veldora, my old pal, my laughing buddy... did I forget to mention? Lady Velzard is actually one of my top subordinates back in Coleus. She handles my front desk and acts as my main guard."
Veldora's eyes bulged out of his head. "S-Subordinate?! The White Ice Dragon?! You lie! She would never bow to anyone, let alone a drunkard!"
"Oh, it's a verifiable fact," Loki purred, taking a slow sip of his remaining dwarven ale, his tone dripping with petty vengeance. "And you know what? Since you found my suffering so hilarious, I think I'll make a mental note. The moment I get back to Coleus, I'm going to tell Velzard exactly where you are. In fact, I might just invite her over here for a little family reunion. I'm sure she'd love to check up on your behavior."
A visible tremor ran through Veldora's massive frame. The mighty Storm Dragon, a being capable of leveling nations with a flap of his wings, looked genuinely terrified. He dropped his food, his golden eyes wide with panic. "W-Wait! Loki! My good friend! My fellow brother of the storm! Surely we can be reasonable! There is no need to involve her! It was merely a jest! A harmless chuckle between comrades!"
"I don't know, Veldora," Loki chuckled darkly, tapping his chin. "My ears are still ringing from your laughter. Velzard's absolute zero aura might be just the thing to soothe my aching head."
Before Loki could stretch his petty victory any further, Testarossa stepped directly into his line of sight, blocking his view of the shivering dragon. Her face was completely devoid of amusement.
"Amusing as your psychological warfare is, Lord Loki, our time has officially expired," Testarossa stated firmly. "We must depart. Now."
Loki whined, his drunken stubbornness returning. "Aw, come on, Testa! Just five more minutes! Look at this ale! It's premium dwarven craft! I haven't even finished the barrel!"
Testarossa didn't speak. She simply tilted her head, her crimson eyes flashing with an intensely sharp, demonic glare that carried the weight of a thousand conceptual deaths. The ambient temperature around the VIP table dropped to a level that rivaled Velzard's own magic.
Loki instantly folded, sitting up perfectly straight. "I am ready to go. Lead the way, Prime Minister."
Testarossa's terrifying expression vanished in an instant, replaced by a flawless, elegant smile. "Splendid." She turned to the remaining guests and bowed. "Lord Veldora, Lady Treyni, please enjoy the rest of your evening. We shall take our leave."
With a elegant wave of her hand, a massive, intricate black teleportation circle materialized beneath her and Loki, swallowing them whole and snapping shut without leaving a single trace behind.
---
The transition from the rustic, chaotic festival of Arashi to the pristine, militaristic grandeur of the Kingdom of Coleus was jarring. The moment the teleportation magic faded, Loki found himself standing on the grand marble courtyard of his royal palace.
Everything was already perfectly prepared, organized with the terrifying efficiency that only Testarossa could command.
Arranged in a flawless line were several massive, ornate royal carriages. These weren't standard vehicles; they were crafted from rare, magic-resistant ebony wood, reinforced with pure gold filigree, and draped in the deep crimson and black flags of Coleus.
Pulling these massive carriages were apex magical beasts, fearsome, shadow-furred dire-stallions whose eyes glowed with residual magicules, completely tamed and standing in perfect formation.
Flanking the convoy stood rows upon rows of the Coleus Royal Army. Each soldier was clad in pristine, enchanted dark armor, their halberds and shields gleaming under the sun. They stood at absolute attention, chests puffed out, ready to escort their deity into foreign territory.
Loki swayed slightly on his feet, the sudden shift in environment making his heavily intoxicated head spin. He rubbed his temples, looking at the massive convoy with absolute bewilderment.
"Testa..." Loki groaned, his speech still slightly slurred. "What is the absolute point of all of this? Why are we using carriages and horses like medieval peasants? I am a literal Demon Lord. I can literally wave my hand and warp our entire city-state directly into the center of Sarion. Why are we dragging out a caravan?"
Testarossa walked past him, her dress rustling as her assistant, Liora, stepped forward to hand her a stack of diplomatic documents.
"It is called social decorum, Lord Loki," Testarossa explained patiently, though her tone carried the slight edge of a mother explaining basic geometry to a child. "We are not launching an invasion; we are initiating formal diplomatic relations with the Sorcerous Dynasty of Sarion. In the realm of politics, grandeur is our primary currency. If we simply materialize out of thin air inside their borders, it is perceived as an aggressive, unannounced threat. If we arrive with a grand, immaculate convoy, it displays absolute power, wealth, and respect for international protocol. We show them we are superior, but civilized."
"Sounds like a lot of extra walking," a loud, arrogant voice called out.
Walking down the palace steps was Carrera, her long blonde hair tied in its usual high ponytail, her military uniform immaculate but worn with a certain casual defiance. She stopped in front of Loki, squinting her yellow eyes at his slightly pale, loopy expression.
"Hey, Lord Loki looks completely out of it," Carrera noted, poking Loki's shoulder, causing the Demon Lord to lean precariously to one side. "What's wrong with him? Did he get hit with a mental restriction curse during his trip?"
"He manually deactivated his [Poison Nullification] skill in order to experience the effects of low-grade monster alcohol," Testarossa stated, her voice dripping with absolute deadpan judgment.
Carrera's eyes widened in sheer fascination. "Wait, you can do that?! You can just turn it off? Man, I have got to try that sometime! Hey, Ultima! Next time we get a shipment of foreign wine, we're turning off our resistances!"
From the top of the steps, Ultima. Her hair styled in her signature twin tails let out a mischievous giggle. "Hehehe! Sounds like fun! But if you pass out on duty, Testarossa is going to make you do the entire kingdom's tax paperwork for the next three centuries!"
Carrera visibly flinched at the threat of paperwork, immediately dropping the idea.
As the final preparations were being secured, the last member of the diplomatic envoy stepped into the courtyard.
She walked with an aura of absolute stillness, a contrast to the bustling demons around her. Her hair was a pure, pale white, matching the elegant, simplified uniform she wore.
Despite her role within the administration as Loki's personal receptionist and chief palace guard, nobody in their right mind treated her as a mere servant.
It was Velzard. She offered Loki a serene, knowing smile, her eyes glinting with a terrifying depth of power that remained entirely controlled.
Testarossa stepped up to the lead carriage, turning back to review the official roster for the mission.
Moss, occupying his small, childlike form, sat casually on the roof of the main carriage, his eyes scanning the horizon with absolute vigilance.
Standing near the front of the convoy was Agera, his hand resting gracefully on the hilt of his blade, his posture embodying the absolute peak of martial discipline. Liora stood directly behind Testarossa, double-checking the travel coordinates and treaty scrolls.
"The hierarchy is set. Everyone, board your respective carriages according to your administrative ranking," Testarossa commanded.
Loki was practically escorted into the grandest, central carriage by Velzard, who offered him a small damp cloth for his forehead. "You really shouldn't tease my little brother so much if you cannot even handle a hangover, Lord Loki," she murmured playfully.
"He started it," Loki mumbled, burying his face into the plush velvet cushions of the carriage interior.
Outside, the gates of the palace courtyard swung open to reveal the grand streets of Coleus. Thousands of citizens had gathered along the boulevards, waving flags and cheering at the top of their lungs.
"Safe travels, Lord Loki!"
"Bring glory to Coleus!"
"Show the Dynasty the power of our Supreme Ruler!"
Standing at the vanguard gates to bid them farewell was the remaining high-ranking demon cadre: Ultima, Carrera, Zonda, and Esprit. Zonda and Esprit placed their hands over their hearts, bowing deeply as the carriages began to roll forward.
"We shall maintain absolute security in your absence, Lord Loki, Lady Testarossa," Zonda projected his voice smoothly.
The convoy rolled through the gates, the cheers of the people echoing through the valley. Once they cleared the immediate city borders and reached the designated open-space departure plaza, Testarossa tapped the interior wall of Loki's carriage.
"Lord Loki. The social decorum of the departure is complete," Testarossa instructed. "You may now initiate the spatial transit. The coordinates for the outer perimeter of the Sorcerous Dynasty of Sarion have been loaded into your spatial matrix."
Inside the carriage, Loki groaned, but his magical pathways flared to life. Even thoroughly wasted, his control over his Ultimate Skill was absolute. He didn't even need to stand up. He merely snapped his fingers.
A massive, multi-layered magic circle, large enough to encompass the entire convoy of carriages, beasts, and the hundreds of Royal Army escorts snapped into existence beneath them. The sky above Coleus darkened for a microsecond as an immense amount of space-time energy localized around the convoy.
VROOM!
With a sound like a vacuum collapsing on itself, the entire royal procession vanished into thin air, leaving behind only a faint scent of ozone and residual stardust.
A split second later, miles across the continent, the space directly outside the grand, towering magical barriers of the Sorcerous Dynasty of Sarion rippled violently.
In a flash of dark crimson light, the immaculate, grand convoy of Coleus materialized perfectly in formation, the dire-stallions letting out powerful snorts as they trod upon the foreign soil.
Loki peeked out of the carriage window, looking at the massive, high-tech magical spires of Sarion looming in the distance. He let out a slow breath, the alcohol finally starting to clear from his system. "Alright... let's see what this Dynasty is all about."
---
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