The Founder's Festival had ended three weeks ago, yet Tempest still smelled of grilled street food and lingering fireworks. Banners of every allied nation fluttered lazily from the rooftops of the capital, and the streets echoed with the cheerful chatter of merchants haggling over newly minted Dwarven coins. Rimuru Tempest, sitting cross-legged on a cushion in his sunlit office, rubbed his slime temples with two tiny hands.
"Seriously, why does peace always come with paperwork?" he groaned.
Shuna smiled serenely while pouring tea. "Lord Rimuru, the MagiTrain project requires precise coordination. The dwarves insist on gold payment for the tunnel blueprints, and the elves want environmental clauses written in verse."
Shion slammed a stack of documents so hard the table cracked. "Leave the negotiations to me, my lord! I'll persuade them with my special hospitality!"
Benimaru pinched the bridge of his nose. "Shion, last time you 'persuaded' a merchant he ran screaming about a 'pink demon chef.' We're trying to build alliances, not a horror story."
Rimuru chuckled, the sound bubbling like a shaken soda. The atmosphere was light, almost domestic—the kind of normalcy he had fought tooth and nail (or pseudopod) to achieve after Walpurgis, the Empire's shadow, and the festival's grand reveal of the Dungeon. Yet a faint unease lingered in the back of his mind. The letter from the Western Council sat on his desk like an unopened gift from a suspicious relative. And somewhere deep beneath their feet, his "big brother" had gone suspiciously quiet.
Speaking of which…
Deep in the labyrinth's tenth floor, in a chamber Rimuru had personally enchanted into a sprawling otaku paradise, Veldora Tempest lounged on a throne of piled manga volumes. The Storm Dragon—towering even in his humanoid form—had transformed the once-sterile research lab into a chaotic shrine of Japanese pop culture. Holographic screens floated in mid-air, projecting episodes of isekai anime that Rimuru had painstakingly recreated from memory. Shelves groaned under light novels bound in dragon-scale leather. A half-eaten bowl of instant ramen (magically reheated to perfection) sat forgotten beside a half-finished mecha model.
Veldora flipped a page with a dramatic sigh that could have leveled a mountain. "Hah! This protagonist claims 'unlimited power' after one convenient power-up. Foolish mortal. True strength is earned through ten thousand years of sealed contemplation and rigorous probability analysis." He tapped his temple, eyes gleaming with scholarly mischief. "Faust agrees with me. Probability of plot armor failing in the next volume: 87.3%. I should write the author a strongly worded letter… through a tornado."
He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that shook the floating screens. Ever since his release, Veldora had embraced the role of "wise elder brother" with gusto—quoting ancient dragon proverbs one moment, then ranting about power scaling the next. But lately he had become even more of a shut-in. "The world outside is noisy," he often declared. "Here, in my Fortress of Solitude, I commune with the true masters of creation: mangaka and game developers."
A knock echoed through the chamber. The heavy door creaked open to reveal a nervous orc soldier carrying a tray of fresh onigiri. "L-Lord Veldora, Lady Shuna insisted you eat something besides… um… 'cup noodles.'"
Veldora's golden eyes narrowed theatrically. "Insolent whelp! I am in the middle of a critical analysis! Tell Shuna that the Storm Dragon requires sustenance worthy of his station—perhaps more of those limited-edition collab ramens Rimuru promised!" He paused, then grinned, fangs flashing. "But fine. Leave the tray. And tell her the dragon thanks her… in the most stoic manner possible."
The orc fled before Veldora could launch into a lecture on proper otaku etiquette. Alone again, the dragon leaned back, stretching his arms with a satisfied groan. "Ah, peace at last. Now, where was I? Faust, run a deep scan on this character's hidden stats. I suspect the author is setting up a—"
A soft ping echoed inside his skull, like a notification from another world.
"Yo, Dragon Bro. Your skill just got one hell of an otaku upgrade."
Veldora froze mid-flip. The voice was young, male, and dripping with casual Japanese slang. Not Raphael. Not Ciel. Definitely not Rimuru.
"Who dares intrude upon the sacred mind of Veldora Tempest, True Dragon and Lord of Storms?!" he boomed, standing so fast manga volumes scattered like startled pigeons. "Reveal yourself or face the wrath of a thousand—"
"Chill, man. Name's Kanzaki Takumi. Former salaryman, full-time programmer, legendary otaku. Died, reincarnated as your new Manas, and accidentally supercharged your Faust skill into the next evolutionary stage. Nice to meet ya, partner."
Silence. Then Veldora's eyes widened in genuine scholarly fascination. "A… Manas? Inside my Faust? Impossible. I would have noticed a foreign soul merging with my Ultimate Skill. Faust, confirm!"
The familiar analytical presence of Faust stirred… and then bloomed. Data streams flooded Veldora's consciousness like a high-speed download. He staggered, gripping the arm of his throne.
Takumi's voice continued, amused. "Yeah, about that. You were so deep into analyzing Rimuru's memories for 'isekai research material' that you didn't notice me slipping in. Happened right after the festival, when you were binge-reading that one series about the slime hero. My soul was drifting—strong otaku will, y'know?—and your investigative aura sucked me right in like a black hole. Boom. Manas born. Skill evolved. You've been running on autopilot ever since."
Veldora sat down heavily, processing. A faint smile tugged at his lips. "Hmph. A worthy explanation. But first—how did you die, intruder? Speak truthfully, or I shall investigate your soul with extreme prejudice."
Takumi's laugh echoed warmly. "Classic overwork death, my dude. I was a programmer at a small game studio in Tokyo. Spent seventy-two hours straight coding an isekai VRMMO—y'know, the kind with overpowered protagonists and cute monster girls. Energy drinks, instant ramen, zero sleep. At 4 a.m., during the season finale of my favorite anime, the hero did this insane power-up reveal. I stood up yelling 'YES! THAT'S THE GOOD STUFF!' and… bam. Heart attack. Karoshi with extra otaku flavor. Last thought? 'If only I could create infinite worlds instead of debugging them…' Next thing I know, I'm a skill spirit. Fate's got jokes."
Veldora threw his head back and roared with laughter—a genuine, belly-shaking guffaw that made the holographic screens flicker. "Karoshi! A programmer slain by his own passion! Truly, the modern age produces heroes in the strangest ways. I approve. Welcome, Takumi. Now… show me what you have done to my Faust."
The evolution unfolded like a system menu only Veldora could see. The Ultimate Skill [Faust, Lord of Investigation] pulsed, expanding, transcending. New sub-skills bloomed in radiant text:
Otaku Art Creation Techniques: Perfect replication and original generation of manga, anime, games, and VR illusions. Reality-bending storytelling on demand. Infinite Pure Destruction & Creation Energy Generator: An inexhaustible wellspring of raw creative and destructive force. Can be shared freely with Rimuru and all Tempest subordinates. Creative Technology, Science, and Magic Knowledge Repository: Instant access to every scientific, technological, and magical principle across worlds—plus the ability to innovate hybrids. Skill Creation / Ally Skill Creation: Forge new skills for self or comrades. Skill Duplication / Skill Gifting / Skill Storage: Copy, gift, or archive abilities with perfect fidelity.
Veldora's eyes sparkled with childlike wonder and ancient wisdom at once. "Marvelous. I am no longer merely the investigator of probabilities… I am the architect of possibilities. Takumi, you have turned a sealed dragon into a walking content factory. This is… acceptable."
"Heh. Thought you'd like it. Want to test it? I've got infinite energy on tap. Rimuru's MagiTrain project could use a little 'creative boost.' Or we could make a mecha that transforms into a dragon for fun."
Veldora grinned, fangs gleaming. "First, a small gift. Let us see if this works." He focused. A thread of golden energy—pure creation laced with destruction—shot from his palm and formed a tiny glowing orb. With a flick, he duplicated a basic strengthening skill from his own repertoire and gifted it to the orb. "Storage complete. Now, to share…"
He sent a mental ping toward the surface. Moments later, Rimuru's voice rang in his head, laced with concern. "Veldora? You okay down there? I felt a massive energy spike—like the Dungeon just leveled up."
Veldora laughed again, this time warm and brotherly. "Fear not, little brother! Your elder has acquired a new companion and a few… upgrades. Come visit my sanctum. I have infinite energy to spare for your silly train project. And perhaps we shall co-create the greatest isekai training simulator the world has ever seen. Takumi insists on calling it 'Tempest Online.'"
Rimuru's reply was pure deadpan. "I'm scared and intrigued. Be there in ten."
As Veldora waited, he turned to the empty air with a conspiratorial wink only a new Manas could appreciate. "Takumi, my friend. The age of the shut-in dragon is over. From this day forth, we shall supply Tempest with wonders beyond imagination… while still reserving weekends for binge sessions. Agreed?"
"Hell yeah, Dragon Bro. Let's make this world our ultimate fanfic."
Outside, the winds of Tempest stirred gently, carrying the faint scent of new beginnings—and the distant, unaware scheming of certain merchant families who had no idea that a certain Storm Dragon had just become the ultimate support character.