General Pov
"Teleportation," Rehmer said.
The word sat between them for a moment, quiet but heavy. Across the table, Max leaned back slightly in his chair, studying the Chienthrope. Rehmer's face remained perfectly composed, wearing the kind of expression Guild officials likely practiced in mirrors until curiosity looked like professionalism and prying sounded like standard procedure.
"Can you explain exactly how the process works," Rehmer continued, "and how you came to possess such a valuable ability?"
Max let the silence stretch just long enough to make it clear that the Guild was asking too much. "It is an ability I was born with. Nothing else," he replied, his even tone shutting down the inquiry before it could begin. "As for how to use it—you step on the circle, and you will be teleported. You don't need the arcane theory to let people use it. Unless someone possesses a private anchor, they will be routed through the public network."
Rehmer accepted the boundary without resistance. With the magical mechanics firmly off the table, the next several minutes saw Max ruthlessly strip away the bureaucratic fat and much to Rehmer's silent astonishment, the young adventurer negotiated with the cold, frictionless efficiency of a veteran merchant. They agreed on a primary transit hub on Babel's ninth floor, established scaled commercial rates based on Dungeon depth, and settled on a provisional tax structure that accounted for the Evilus crisis. Max even offered to weave a floor-detection matrix into the circles so Guild attendants could calculate return fares without guesswork.
As Rehmer finished writing the final terms, Max looked at the paperwork with a surge of cynical reflection.
It had been too easy. If he had walked in here as a standard adventurer pitching a city-wide transit network, he would have been buried. A negotiation of this scale should have been dragged through months of red tape, endless committee hearings, and extortionate rent demands. The only reason Rehmer was agreeing to five percent taxes and rent-free space was the invisible, heavy hand of Ouranos greasing the wheels. Without his prior deal with the Supreme God, the Guild would have eaten him alive.
Believing the negotiation had reached its natural, highly successful conclusion, Rehmer neatly tapped his papers against the desk. He let out a quiet internal sigh of relief and reached to cap his inkwell.
"Since we have established the Guild's revenue and taxes," Max said, his voice quiet but suddenly commanding the space, "I have a question."
The liaison's hand froze over the inkwell. He blinked, looking genuinely wrong-footed for the first time since Max had sat down.
"What exactly is the Guild doing about adventurer mortality?" Max asked. Before Rehmer could formulate a diplomatic response, Max pressed forward. "From what I've seen, rookies get a warning speech, a few broad instructions, and then they're sent into the Dungeon hoping instinct and luck carry them the rest of the way. No meaningful pre-exploration training. No standard combat preparation. No insurance system. No disability compensation. No pension for those who lose a limb. Not even subsidized rations for those who survive but lose the psychological will to dive. Nothing."
Rehmer's eyes lost a fraction of their color. In his mind, adventurers were either glorious heroes or tragic statistics—that was simply the law of the world. The concepts Max was listing sounded utterly outlandish, yet they struck with devastating, undeniable logic. Hearing the Guild framed as a negligent overseer rather than a neutral registrar sent a visible crack through Rehmer's professional mask.
"The Guild takes taxes, tariffs, commissions, penalties, and licensing fees," Max went on, his tone flat and clinical. "It stands in the middle of every major flow of money in this city. So tell me—where does that support return to the adventurers who are actually bleeding for it? What happens to someone crippled, maimed, or simply too damaged to keep going? What does their monthly life look like after they stop being useful?"
Rehmer finally found his voice, though it was slow and defensive. "It is... difficult. Most rely on their Familia for support. Those without sufficient backing usually move into other work. The entertainment district. Service labor. Trade. Whatever remains available to them."
"Then the fix is obvious," Max said, nodding as if the answer only confirmed a fatal diagnosis. "Build a Guild-run training arena. Not for elites, but for rookies, and for the people who can no longer enter the Dungeon. Retired adventurers. Injured veterans. Survivors. Bring them in as mentors. Let them teach the next generation what panic looks like, what overconfidence looks like, and what actually gets people killed."
Rehmer's pen had resumed moving, though his grip was painfully rigid.
"If you really want lower mortality," Max demanded. "You should stop pretending pamphlets and warning lectures are enough. Experience should be passed down institutionally, not left to chance depending on whether some rookie got lucky enough to join a competent Familia."
"There is merit in that," Rehmer admitted, struggling to maintain his institutional boundaries. "But the Guild is meant to remain neutral. Direct involvement in Familia development would be—"
"If a Familia already has such systems in place, the Guild doesn't need to do anything for them," Max cut in evenly. "Look at my Familia. Lady Loki's. Lord Ganesha's. They have veterans and internal training to correct mistakes before those mistakes become funerals. But what about the ones that are unnecessarily bloated and do literally nothing for their members? Case in point: the Soma Familia."
Rehmer winced internally. It was an open secret—a festering wound on the Guild's ledger that they ignored under the guise of policy.
"Shouldn't the Guild at least try to help them?" Max asked. "I don't know what good a thousand brainless, drunk idiots are to the city, other than claiming the title of the largest Familia and being used as meat shields if a situation turns dire. And there are dozens of smaller Familias that don't even have the resources Soma does. The Guild can start with them instead of hiding behind 'neutrality' while letting people die needlessly. You see them before the Dungeon does, and all you give them is paperwork."
Rehmer did not argue. He couldn't. He wrote something down instead, his face unreadable, but a deep, uncomfortable realization was taking root in his chest. Max wasn't just a merchant; he was auditing the soul of Orario.
"And since you brought up neutrality," Max continued, his voice dropping a fraction of an octave. "Answer this. What compensation does the Guild provide to the Familias who actively protect this city? Astraea Familia. Ganesha Familia. The people who spend their time, strength, resources, and blood keeping law and order from collapsing. Did the Guild set aside any support fund for them? Any reserve? Any casualty fund, hazard pay, survivor pension, or emergency logistics budget? Anything?"
For the first time in his long career, Rehmer went completely speechless. Supporting Familias? Especially the ones chasing justice and public order? The idea had never once been raised in the Guild's upper management. It was simply accepted that adventures bled for free.
Max let out a slow breath. "Why does it look like I'm speaking an alien language? You understand me, do you not?"
"Y-yes," Rehmer swallowed dryly. "But... they are doing this of their own interest and willingness. To uphold justice. To preserve law and order. It is completely voluntary."
Beside Max, Rimuru froze. His cheerful smile did not vanish, but it stopped being animated, holding still and wrong like a painted expression that had forgotten how to move.
Max's own expression emptied entirely. "Are you getting paid, Rehmer?"
The voice was cold enough to frost glass. Rehmer blinked, nodding on pure instinct. "Yes."
Something in the room fractured. Max did not raise his voice or move suddenly, yet his aura bled into the sealed chamber, turning the atmosphere thick and suffocating. Rehmer physically stiffened, his instincts screaming that the adventurer across the table had suddenly become an apex predator.
A cold, furious shadow settled over Max's ashen features as his magic rose, tinting his eyes with an otherworldly crimson cast. They locked onto Rehmer's amber stare with the weight of a physical blow.
"Your precious neutrality," Max said, vibrating with cold disdain, "cost the lives of the remaining Zeus and Hera Familia members when their strongest fell to the One-Eyed Black Dragon. The Guild abandoned them. As if one single failure erased their thousand years of protection and their achievements in clearing two of the Three Great Quests. As if they instantly became useless the moment they stopped bleeding for you."
Rehmer forgot how to breathe. The Guild's greatest, unspoken shame had just been dragged into the light and hurled at him like a spear.
Max opened his mouth to press further—to demand what would happen when Astraea or Ganesha inevitably fell into the same trap—but the words died in his throat. He looked at the sweating, paralyzed Chienthrope and felt his cold fury abruptly snap back into sharp, cynical focus.
I'm yapping.
The realization hit him like a splash of ice water. He was delivering a grand, righteous lecture about systemic historical sins to a middle-manager. Rehmer wasn't the head of the Guild; he was a merchant liaison. Yelling at him about the moral failings of Orario was like showing your hate for capitalism to the bank clerk. Rehmer couldn't change the Guild's soul. He could only process its paperwork.
Max closed his mouth. The ashen shadow on his face smoothed instantly into an unreadable, clinical mask.
To Rehmer, this sudden, suffocating silence was somehow more terrifying than the rant. He watched, paralyzed, as Max reached into his storage pouch. Gripping the canvas-wrapped sack hidden in his dimensional space, Max hauled the heavy weight upward with raw physical strength and dropped it onto the wooden desk.
THUD.
The metallic crash of tens of thousands of heavy Valis coins hitting the wood sounded like a physical blow. The table groaned.
"I don't care whether you take this as a warning, a threat, a notice, a suggestion, or a request," Max said, his voice dropping into a register of unyielding iron. He nudged the heavy sack forward. "I am leaving thirty million Valis of my own money with you. Start an Orario Protection Fund. Take one percent from all the fees you collect from the adventurers moving forward. That should be enough to support the police force and the Familias who are actively bleeding to fight Evilus."
Rehmer stared at the mountain of coinage. It was a staggering fortune, dropped casually onto his desk to publicly shame the Guild into doing its job.
Max rose, his chair scraping softly against the floor. "I hope you do not delay this, Rehmer. Because if the people protecting this city fall because the Guild was too busy counting its coppers to buy them armor, the monsters will not stop at the Dungeon entrance. And a ledger makes a very poor shield when a Minotaur is looking you in the eye."
The last remnants of blood drained from Rehmer's face.
Max turned away, pulling his aura back and letting the crushing pressure in the room recede with him. Rimuru hopped lightly from the chair, recovering his cheerful expression with eerie ease.
Rehmer remained seated for half a minute longer, his mind reeling. When he finally forced himself to stand, his movements were strangely mechanical. He looked at Max not as an adventurer, but as a tectonic shift in the city's power structure.
"Mister Maximus," Rehmer said, his voice shaking despite his best efforts, "you have proposed... far too many revolutionary concepts for me to authorize at my level. Commercial reforms, mortality mitigation, insurance structures, retirement and disability support, and now a dedicated protection fund for law-enforcement Familias..." He drew in a measured breath. "These matters must be brought before the higher officials for their approval."
Max stopped near the door and glanced back at him.
"Once the Guild has reviewed them and reached a consensus," Rehmer continued, "I will contact you directly."
"See that you do," Max said, giving a single nod.
Beside him, Rimuru lifted a hand and gave the liaison a sunny, delighted wave, as if they had just concluded an especially pleasant business lunch. Then Max stepped through the door, taking the suffocating edge of the room with him.
By the time the heavy double doors of the Pantheon closed behind him, cutting off the stifling, polished air of the Guild, Max's adrenaline had already begun to fade. He stepped out into the afternoon sunlight, letting the noise of the bustling street wash over him as Rimuru separated to get the feel of the city.
He walked without a set destination at first. His thirty-million-Valis stunt with Rehmer had felt satisfying, but as cold logic took over, he recognized it for what it was: a band-aid. The Guild didn't truly care about adventurers; their entire operation was ruthlessly selfish, masking a deeply corrupt core. He was walking proof of it. No legitimate governing body casually handed over two hundred and fifty million Valis in pure hush money to cover up the existence of some dangerous gems.
They would likely set up the Protection Fund as that makes sense for the current times and humor some of his ideas, but only because they were terrified of his monopoly and knew he possessed the Supreme God's backing.
Max's eyes narrowed slightly as he navigated the crowded street. He had only gotten this far today because he was using Ouranos's favor as a shield, and he had to ruthlessly exploit that advantage while the Guild was still forced to play nice. But reliance on a god's favor was a temporary patch. Bureaucracy had a way of eroding good intentions, and gods were notoriously fickle.
To actually make the Guild budge from their lofty, untouchable spot—to rip the rot out of the system permanently without needing anyone's permission—he needed absolute, undeniable power of his own.
Max let out a long breath, forcing himself out of his funk. He blinked, suddenly realizing his feet had carried him out of the main commercial district and onto the familiar cobblestones of the West Main Street. The warm, savory scent of roasted meat, spiced potatoes, and spilled ale drifted through the air, cutting through his dark mood.
He looked up at the wooden sign hanging above the bustling tavern in front of him.
The Hostess of Fertility.
Adjusting his shirt, Max rolled his shoulders to release the lingering tension from the Guild meeting. Reforming Orario's economy was a long-term war, but right now, he had another immediate item on his checklist to clear.
He pushed the heavy wooden doors open and stepped inside to meet with Mama Mia.
-◈ -
Kairu
The moment he squished onto the moss of Floor 24, Kairu let out a sharp, eager pulse.
Finally. He was going to squish one of those overgrown, fire-burping lizards all by himself.
Master had trusted him enough to let him handle this solo and Kairu was determined to prove he was the best slime in the world. It didn't take long to navigate the treacherous fungal forest and locate the towering treasure trees. Lying at the base of the first cluster was a Green Dragon, roughly the size of the one that had humiliated him last time.
Kairu's gelatinous body rippled with anticipation. He badly wanted to jump forward, freeze its snout shut, and turn it into a giant, scaly ice-snack right then and there.
But he controlled himself.
No, he thought, remembering Master's exact words. Master promised I could take on the biggest one.
Kairu rippled, pushing his mass outward to unfurl his draconic wings, and launched silently into the canopy. He glided high above the cavern floor, scouting the sprawling lair. Figuring out the rules down here was simple logic: the bigger the shiny tree, the bigger the lizard guarding it.
He bypassed three smaller clearings before spotting it—a colossal, ancient fungal root pressed against the cavern wall, glittering with hoarded gems. Curled around its base was a Green Dragon that made the previous ones look like tiny, angry geckos.
Perfect snack.
Kairu dropped toward the clearing. Before his squishy body even hit the ground, the Dragon's gigantic head snapped up. Its slit pupils locked onto the falling blue blob instantly, and a low, rumbling growl vibrated through the damp air, rattling the slime's core.
It sees me, already. Wow.
This time, Kairu wasn't going to just charge in and get swatted. He was a very smart slime, and he had been watching Master fight the sour faced elf.
He splatted against the ground and instantly slammed thick pseudopods into the earth. Drawing on his magic, jagged, reinforced walls of ice erupted in a wide ring around the clearing. He wasn't trying to trap the dragon; he was building a bouncy playground. He needed surfaces to hide behind and hard angles to ricochet off.
Next, he squeezed his own mass, generating a dozen heavily compressed ice spears. By linking hair-thin, invisible strings of water to their bases, he kept them hovering in the air behind him like a floating armory.
The Dragon didn't wait politely. Its throat began to glow with a terrifying, concentrated emerald light.
Getting ready to burp fire, Kairu noted.
He didn't just sit there. Kairu reached deep into his internal storage, tapping into his newest, most prized abilities. For the first time without his Master's direct instruction, he called upon the remains of the Floor 17 Boss.
The Goliath's shattered horns, jagged teeth, and pulverized bones surfaced through his blue gel, merging seamlessly with the broken pieces of Master's shiny steel sword. Kairu used his magic to force them together, fusing bone, stone, and steel into a single, terrifying shape. The mass elongated, twisting out of his primary body into a jagged, brutal rapier born of sheer Dungeon violence.
Master's shiny sword, but better. Kairu pulsed with quiet, satisfied pride.
He pointed the newly forged Goliath-blade at the beast just as the Dragon unleashed its hellfire.
A roaring torrent of caustic, emerald flames washed over the clearing. Kairu didn't try to block it; fire made him turn into steam, and he hated losing mass. Instead, he compressed his core and bounced.
He ricocheted off his ice walls like a pinball, moving far too fast for the giant lizard to track. The flames chased him, melting his ice playground into hissing steam, but Kairu used the thick white vapor as a blanket. He inched closer through the fog in a high-speed, zigzagging blue blur.
The breath attack lasted for thirty agonizing seconds before the Dragon finally snapped its jaws shut, visibly out of breath and wheezing smoke.
Now!
Kairu whipped his hidden water-strings forward. The hovering ice spears launched through the steam like missiles.
Crack! Shatter!
Kairu let out a frustrated squeak. The Dragon's scales were too tough. The ice shattered harmlessly against its thick armor, leaving only tiny, superficial scratches.
Fine. Time for the super-smart trick.
Instead of making solid spears, Kairu pinched off small, round pockets of his own jelly, squeezing them incredibly tight until they hummed with angry, bouncy energy. He then coated these pressurized jelly-balls in thick, heavy shells of dense ice.
He launched three of these makeshift ice grenades straight at the Dragon's softer underbelly and its enormous, glowing eyes.
The Dragon, unwilling to let annoying ice hit its face again, opened its jaws and unleashed a second, shorter burst of fire to melt the incoming attacks mid-air.
Just like I wanted.
The intense heat instantly vaporized the outer ice shells. But the sudden, violent shift from freezing cold to burning hot made the tightly-squeezed jelly inside go absolutely crazy. The cores popped just as they reached the beast's face.
BANG! BOOM!
The spheres detonated like tiny bombs. A 360-degree shockwave of razor-sharp icy shrapnel exploded outward. The Dragon roared in thrashing pain as the shards bypassed its thick outer plating, shredding the softer scales of its underbelly and forcing it to snap its eyes shut to avoid being blinded.
Now the beast was bleeding, and it was furious.
Time to go fast.
Kairu generated fresh ice patches on the ground for traction. He launched himself forward, unleashing his full speed. Mimicking Master's footwork, he turned himself into a blue streak armed with the Goliath bone-rapier, aiming straight for the Dragon's neck.
But the beast was surprisingly fast for its size. It flared its wide wings, launching itself backward into the air just as Kairu struck.
Not getting away.
Kairu flared his own wings, twisting his momentum in mid-air, and shot straight up after the airborne beast.
The Dragon met him mid-flight. Its cavernous jaws snapped shut, intending to bite the annoying sticky blob completely in half.
Kairu shifted his mass fluidly. He let go of his wing shape, stretching his gelatinous body into a thin, elongated noodle that slipped right through the gap between the Dragon's razor-sharp teeth. He reformed instantly on the bridge of its snout, driving the Goliath rapier down toward its eye.
The Dragon roared, thrashing its head violently. The sudden, whiplash force threw Kairu right off its face. Before the slime could sprout wings to stabilize in the air, a colossal, spiked tail slammed into him like a falling mountain.
SPLAT!
Kairu was sent rocketing backward. His gel rippled wildly, dangerously close to losing its shape, as he slammed completely through one of his own ice walls. He hit the cavern wall hard, his central core vibrating painfully from the heavy blow.
The Dragon folded its wings and dropped heavily toward the ground, intending to stomp the dizzy slime into a puddle of blue paste.
Kairu compressed himself entirely flat, sliding out from under the crushing, descending talons just as they cratered the earth. He bounced up immediately, spinning like a top, and thrust the rapier forward with everything he had.
But his spin was slightly off. He missed the beast entirely.
His high-speed momentum carried him straight past the Dragon and directly into the giant tree behind it. The Goliath-enhanced blade sheared through the ancient, petrified wood like wet paper. With a groaning crack, a big chunk of the tree's trunk splintered, sending glittering jewels, and other items cascading into the mud.
The Dragon froze.
It stared at the ruined tree, its beloved hoard spilling into the dirt. Then, slowly, it turned its head to stare at the blue slime.
A horrifying, ear-splitting shriek of pure, unadulterated rage erupted from its throat. All strategy, intelligence, and caution vanished in an instant. The beast tucked its wings and charged head-on like a runaway freight train, intending to crush the slime under its colossal bulk.
That's a very dumb move, Kairu thought cheerfully.
He didn't brace for impact. He waited until the absolute last millisecond, playing a game of gelatinous chicken, and then compressed his body flat into a blue pancake against the ground.
The Dragon sailed cleanly over him, its furious forward momentum completely unchecked by logic, and slammed headfirst into the very tree it had been trying to protect.
BOOM!
The entire cavern shook. Dust and splinters rained down from the ceiling. The Dragon slumped backward, its huge eyes rolling, completely stunned by the concussive force of ramming headfirst into petrified wood.
My turn.
Kairu didn't waste a heartbeat. He bounced violently off the ground, generating maximum speed. He launched himself into the air, aiming directly for the base of the Dragon's stunned skull—the only spot where the thick, armored scales were momentarily misaligned from the crash.
With one fluid, high-speed scoop, Kairu drove the jagged Goliath rapier forward.
The blade sank deep into the gap in the scales. With the crushing weight of the Floor 17 Boss behind the thrust, it severed the Dragon's spinal cord in a single, devastating strike.
The great beast convulsed once, its wings twitching uselessly, before collapsing into the mud with a heavy, final thud.
Kairu landed softly on the Dragon's snout. He pulled his rapier free, letting the blade back into his internal storage, and puffed himself up to his absolute maximum size.
Ki! Ki! Ki! Ki!
He had done it. He had outsmarted and squished the absolute biggest one. He pulsed brightly in the dim cavern, overwhelmingly proud of himself. Master was going to be so happy, and Kairu was going to get the absolute best head-pats.
Happy that he had conquered his destined foe, Kairu felt a surge of unbridled, gelatinous confidence.
He didn't just stop at one. Bouncing through the sprawling fungal forests of Floor 24, the slime bulldozed into three more territorial Green Dragons, utilizing his newly minted Goliath rapier and high-pressure ice tactics to turn the overgrown lizards into frozen, punctured statues. He was having the time of his life, racking up monster stones and rare drops until his internal storage felt delightfully heavy.
But the real treat was still waiting for him.
He made his way back to the precipice of Floor 25. This time, there were no shiny blue boxes to trap him. No protective layers. Just Kairu, the roaring waterfall, and gravity.
He threw himself over the edge.
It was pure, chaotic perfection. He plummeted through the roaring currents, using his amorphous body to ride the kinetic force of the water. When aquatic monsters darted from the spray to intercept him, Kairu didn't just dodge—he fought back. With the Goliath blade extended from his mass, he spun through the heavy mist like a living blender, slicing through armored crabs and serpents that dared disrupt his fun.
By the time he splashed triumphantly into the basin of Floor 27, he was utterly stuffed, buzzing with magic, and deeply satisfied.
He knew what time it was.
Kairu crawled onto the rocky shore, connected to the magic circle, and channeled his mana. With a bright flash of purple light, the roaring Water Capital vanished.
He appeared in Lady's chambers, but to his slight disappointment, the room was empty. No Lady?
Kairu wobbled for a second, then extended his senses. He could feel faint, incredibly dense auras radiating from somewhere else on the floor. Determined to share his glory, he bounced out of the suite and began navigating the grand, quiet halls of Babel, following the highest concentration of power.
He eventually stopped before a set of huge, heavily reinforced double doors. They were thick, imposing, and clearly designed to remain closed.
Kairu didn't care. He pressed his blue mass against the heavy wood, channeled his Strength, and pushed.
-◈ -
General Pov
The atmosphere inside the executive war room was thick with a stunned, reverent silence.
The executives were still processing the magnitude of the revelations and directives their Mistress had just handed down. To establish a permanent, fortified stronghold on Floor 18—controlling a crucial choke point and exerting total dominance over the Under Resort—was a logistical fantasy. None of them had ever thought it was genuinely possible.
But to accomplish it using an instantaneous teleportation network? It was nothing short of a divine miracle.
The implications had completely rewired the room's dynamic. The Gulliver Brothers were already murmuring among themselves, their eyes gleaming as they calculated the terrifying tactical advantages of deploying fresh strike teams directly to the Middle Floors. Allen paced near the wall, his tail lashing with aggressive anticipation; the ability to bypass tedious travel time and instantly drop into high-value kill zones appealed perfectly to his lethal impatience.
Hogni stood quietly, a rare, faint smile touching his lips. He was truly excited to see Maximus taking his request to heart and actively elevating the Familia, forcing everyone to acknowledge his worth.
Hedin, standing near the head of the table, was already lost in administrative ecstasy. Appointed as the designated head of the Rivira Outpost project, his brilliant mind was furiously drafting supply manifests, rotation schedules, and the exact toll structure he would impose to ensure proper use of the teleportation network.
The only one not visibly thrilled was Ottar. The Warlord stood by the wall like a statue, his eyes shadowed with a deep, silent dread. He had experienced the boy's teleportation firsthand. The sudden, frictionless dislocation of space fundamentally disagreed with his warrior's soul, and the thought of having to use it regularly made his stomach churn.
Just as Freya prepared to formally dismiss them to begin preparations, a low, agonizing GROOOAAN echoed through the chamber.
Every executive in the room snapped to attention. Weapons were half-drawn; stances dropped into lethal readiness.
The doors to the war room were reinforced with heavy dungeon metals, designed specifically to ensure absolute privacy. No low-level member, no spy, and certainly no common servant possessed the physical strength required to casually push them open from the outside without triggering the entry wards.
Yet the heavy door crept open, groaning against its hinges.
Ottar's hand tightened on his greatsword. Allen bared his teeth, ready to blitz whoever dared intrude on their Goddess's council.
Through the gap in the doors bounced a small, translucent blue ooze.
The executives froze, their killing intent suddenly lacking a logical target.
The slime paused just inside the threshold. It seemed to visually scan the room, entirely unbothered by the suffocating, concentrated auras of Orario's strongest adventurers bearing down on it. Then, its featureless front seemed to brighten. It ignored everyone else and bounded directly toward the Dark Elf.
Ki!
"Kairu?" Hogni said, blinking in surprise.
The entire room whipped their heads toward Hogni. It wasn't the fact that the slime had approached him that shocked them—it was his voice. The Dark Elf had spoken with perfect, unhesitating clarity. There was no stutter. No anxious trembling. No retreat into his 'Dark King' persona. He had addressed the monster with the casual, grounded warmth of a man greeting an old friend.
Allen's jaw practically hit the floor. Hedin adjusted his glasses, his eyes narrowing sharply at his fellow executive's unprecedented composure, a second time.
Kairu gave a happy jiggle and immediately began to 'talk.' He unleashed a rapid, animated string of happy Kis, his gelatinous shape rippling violently. He formed the crude shape of a winged lizard, mimed dodging a breath attack, and then dramatically flattened himself to illustrate a crushing victory.
"Is that so?" Hogni nodded, a genuine, approving smile spreading across his face. "You conquered the beast of the canopy? Well fought."
Once Kairu had finished his energetic pantomime, he spun around. He bounced past the bewildered executives, hopped onto the polished mahogany of the war table, and stopped directly in front of Freya.
Before Allen could screech at the filthy creature for daring to approach the Mistress, Freya raised a single, graceful hand.
The order was clear.
Stand down.
The executives froze in place. Freya leaned forward, her eyes alight with immense amusement.
Kairu looked up at her, vibrating proudly. He extruded a thin stream of water, drawing a neat '24' on the tabletop, followed by the shape of a dragon. Then, knowing the drill perfectly, he flattened his top half into a smooth, canvas-like surface.
Freya chuckled, a soft, melodic sound that broke the crushing tension in the room. She understood immediately. The slime wasn't just showing off; he had come for his reward.
"You wish for an update?" Freya asked gently.
Kairu pulsed a bright, affirmative blue.
While the rest of the room watched in uncomprehending shock, Freya produced a silver needle. She was surprised that Max had allowed the familiar to return alone, but she took it as a clear sign of the trust between master and familiar—and a testament to Max's growing comfort within her domain.
She pricked her finger and let a single drop of ichor fall onto the slime's flattened back.
The room was instantly bathed in a deep, aquatic blue light.
As the Falna unlocked, Freya's perception swept through the accumulated Excelia. She paused, her eyebrows rising in genuine surprise.
A Level Up is available, she noted silently.
She dove into the raw data, looking for the catalyst. Did he kill the Green Dragon already? As she sifted through the memories woven into the magic, a slow, wicked smile spread across her lips. He hadn't just killed a Green Dragon. The gluttonous little creature had gone on a rampage, actively hunting down and butchering four of them before gleefully throwing himself down the Great Waterfall.
Such an impatient, bloodthirsty child, Freya mused affectionately.
The fact that their Goddess was casually entertaining a monster, let alone bleeding onto it to update a Falna, had left the executives utterly speechless. Hogni looked on with quiet pride, while Ottar remained stoic, having already accepted the anomalies surrounding Max.
But Allen had finally reached his limit.
"My Goddess," Allen growled, stepping forward, his tail thrashing violently behind him. "What in the name of the heavens is going on? Why does a monster have a Falna? And why is it demanding an update in the middle of a war council?"
Freya didn't look up from her work, her fingers moving gracefully to formalize the transition. "Kairu was eligible for a Level Up, Allen. He simply came to collect his due."
Allen's eyes narrowed into furious slits. The humiliation he had suffered at the hands of the bastard in the desert still burned like acid in his veins. If he couldn't put the master in his place, he could at least scoff at the pet.
"A level up," Allen sneered, his voice dripping with venomous condescension. "How quaint. Let me guess. The little puddle finally managed to scrape his way to Level 2 by eating scraps?"
Freya finished reading the update. She lifted her head and looked at Allen, her eyes gleaming with a predatory, devastating amusement that sent a chill down the spine of every executive in the room.
"He is Level 4," Freya answered simply.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
--> Devil in a Dungeon <--
AN:
I was just stuck on the first half as I felt the previous versions was too yappy and angsty unnecessarily. Hope this version was better.
The second half is where I felt life returned to the chapter as it was always fun to write Kairu and our favorite slime decided he is gonna surprise Max with a level up only to stun all the executives first ;)
And just so you know, the wards of the war room were designed to let only a Freya Familia member to enter.
In the next chapter we see Freya making one of the most ridiculous decision (nothing bad) but it will complicate things for Max as it always does. Anyone guesses??
If you'd like to read 9 chapters ahead(around 45k words), support my work, or commission a story idea, visit my p.a.t.r.e.o.n.c.o.m/b3smash
Please note that the chapters are early access only, they will be eventually released here as well.
Next update will be on Tuesday.
Ben, Out.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.