WALPURGIS
So how had things gone
while I was occupied with Milim?
Leaving her and Veldora behind, I turned
toward Ranga first, since things seemed the most intense with him.
“Ranga, you all right?”
“Ah, Sir Rimuru! I am fine, but I have a
little situation here.”
Something was up? There didn’t seem to be much
life to his attacks, and I didn’t think it was because he was losing interest.
Just as I was about to ask what was up, I
picked up on the cause.
(—lp me. Help me. Help me!!)
This childlike wailing was leaking out to us,
via Thought Communication, from Nine-Head. The White Monkey and Moon Rabbit
were merely trying to protect their shivering master, hence why they kept
resisting without admitting defeat. Now I see. Let’s help him
out.
“Ranga, hold back the Monkey and the Rabbit.
Don’t let them get in my way.”
“Right.”
He took the Monkey, while his two star leaders
handled the Rabbit, and I walked toward the snarling Nine-Head—this poor young
child, controlled by Clayman.
Report. Analysis
indicates a Demon Dominate curse. Remove?
Yes
No
This time, at least,
the curse was discovered and removed quickly. Wish I could’ve seen some of that
talent when I was dealing with Milim. Ah well.
The moment I undid the magic, Nine-Head gave a
joyous yelp, then settled down to sleep, no doubt exhausted. It was as cute as
any baby-animal video I had ever seen; apart from the three tails and the
golden color to its fur, it looked exactly like a little fox cub. Ranga was
right next to me, growling as menacingly as he could, and—all right, that was
pretty cute, too. In a cool way.
“Keep this cub safe.”
“Yes, my master.”
I gave the cub over to Ranga as I petted him.
That took care of his foe.
Next, I turned to
Beretta, and that confrontation was already over. It was lining up all the
Unique weapons and armor on the floor, practically beside itself with
excitement.
“Hey! Heyyyy! What’re you doing?!”
“Oh yes, hello, Sir Rimuru!” It gave me a
joyful salute. “It is a pity I could not show myself in action to you, but I
have prepared some spoils of war for you.”
Spoils…?
Viola, Clayman’s greatest work of art, had
been taken apart, its pieces strewn all over the place, and now this was
Beretta’s gift to me. I knew it was pretty strong, but it took down that
arsenal-like magic-born without suffering a scratch…?
And that wasn’t even all.
“Uh, Beretta, no offense, but are you
imitating all of Ramiris’s bad habits or what?”
“Huh…?!”
It looked at me—surprised, I think. Its face
was hidden behind that mask, so that was only my impression. I thought a word
of advice was in order. If this keeps up, Beretta’s going to
pick up on nothing but her negative traits.
“I mean, hopefully this is just my
imagination, but what are you going to do with all that booty?”
“Well, this… I thought I would present it to
you, Sir Rimuru…and I thought you would accept it and, in exchange, provide a
place for Lady Ramiris and me to live.”
Um? A place to live…? I knew Ramiris had an urge to live in our town, but why Beretta?
“What…made you worry about that?”
“Actually…”
Beretta’s explanation floored me—and not in a
good way. It sounded like Guy cornered it into choosing a master before
allowing him to enter the battle zone. Beretta responded that it would serve
Ramiris after helping me out in here—but clever demon that it is, it thought
about a way to wiggle out of that. If Ramiris were to move to our town, Beretta
would be obliged to follow her—and then it could go through Ramiris to serve me
as well; that was its plan.
It was one of the flimsiest excuses I ever
heard, and it was laying this out like supreme gospel. The word demon couldn’t have described him more accurately.
“Uh… Look, I’m serious, you’re really starting to resemble Ramiris.”
“It is an honor to hear, although it feels
rather little like a compliment.”
That’s ’cause it’s not! I swear, I
take my eyes off you for a second, and you’ve grown incredibly shameless. Kind
of neat to see this maturation take place, though.
“Well, we can save that for later. I’ll have
to think about it. I can’t set up something for you guys that
easily.”
“Understood, sir.”
It seemed happy enough with that. I figured we
were good for now.
That left only Shion to
check up on, and that confrontation was right on the cusp of its climax.
Clayman was panting for
breath as he glared at her, a loathsome look on his face. Shion had all but
made him admit to her strength.
It might’ve appeared like they were locked in
an intense competition for superiority, but that would be a dreadful mistake.
That was because Shion had Ultraspeed Regeneration, that undefeatable X factor,
on her side. They were equals in strength, but Shion could keep up the fight for
far longer. While they seemed an even match in each exchange of blows,
Clayman’s fatigue had begun to stand out while I was fighting Milim.
Shion probably didn’t need my aid to win this.
And now that her advantage was clear to all, Clayman was starting to panic.
“Is that all you’ve got? You are far too weak
to call yourself a demon lord!”
Wow, Shion. No mercy, huh? She was totally
dissing Clayman.
“You—you—you’ll pay for that! Come to me,
Marionette Dance!!”
The demon lord unleashed five puppets, each transforming
into a magic-born that lunged at Shion. Each one was high in level, formed from
a soul Clayman had put in a doll for deployment at any time. It was part of his
hidden arsenal, I suppose—now was no time for him to hold back, no doubt, so he
was busting out everything he had.
This was more than enough firepower to take
out your average magic-born. But with that massive sword she loved so much, she
mowed down all five with a single swipe.
“Pathetic,” she said, not a hint of fatigue on
her face. “You never were anything special, were you?” She had been fighting
and fighting, and there wasn’t a scratch on her. She
was starting to look and act more like a demon lord now.
Clayman, meanwhile, was visibly quivering.
“Don’t—don’t give me that, you!” he shouted out of humiliation. “It’s too early
to boast of your victory yet! My Marionette Dance will recover itself in
moments, striking at you again. The real show begins
now!”
He probably wasn’t making that up out of
spite. They really could do that. Shion waited for
them, a thoughtful look on her face—but the dolls showed no sign of getting
back up. There was a good reason for that.
Panic crossed Clayman’s face again. “N-no,” he
whispered. “Why aren’t they reviving?”
I could understand the shock of having your
beloved tools of battle fail you like this. I decided to provide a little color
commentary.
“Hmm, how about I just reveal it to you?
Shion’s greatsword is a type called a Soul Eater. Those puppets didn’t have any
physical and spiritual defensive spells applied to them, right? You cheaped out
on creating them, so she broke them in one hit.”
That much wasn’t worth keeping under wraps to
me. Clayman was going to be my prey anyway; if he wanted to know, then let him
know.
“A, a sword with spirit-based attacks?!”
“It’s not that rare. There’s a human with one
out there, y’know.”
“N-no! That’s one of the least common traits,
even with Uniques!”
“Ohhh? Well, what’s it matter? One of my
friends forged it for us.”
Shion’s sword was a modified blade created
using Hinata’s as a reference. It had the power to attack the spiritual body
itself—not literally eat souls or anything but deal damage to spirit-based
life-forms. There were no restrictions like that “seven hits” thing with
Hinata; depending on the force applied, it could kill instantly unless
successfully resisted. It wasn’t guaranteed to kill all the time, but Shion
wasn’t exactly a delicate fighter, so it didn’t matter. Since it dealt both
spiritual and physical damage, she didn’t need seven hits to finish foes anyway.
“Oh, I see. So this is Goriki-maru Version 2!”
She didn’t know…? I, um, I’m pretty sure we went
over all this when I gave it to her? Ah, whatever. Shion was never one to sweat the small
stuff, so setting her up with this was the right idea.
“Heh…heh-heh-heh. I see. It was the power of
that sword that allowed you to fight against me. Then allow me to add that
dirty little blade to my collection! Take this—Demon Marionette!!”
Sounds like Clayman had misread her.
The ominous strings of black light that streamed
from both his hands wrapped themselves completely around Shion’s body. She
didn’t move. Kinda wish she tried to dodge it or, you know, something,
but I guess she didn’t need to.
Clayman, assuming Shion didn’t react in time,
found this much to his liking. “Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh… Behold, the ultimate
cursing magic, with the power to rule over demon lords themselves! It seems a
waste to squander it on magic-born like you, but so be it. I have some slots to
fill in my five fingers, and you would be wonderful to take under my wing.”
He totally had the
wrong idea—if that’s what he was saying, poor guy. It wasn’t that Shion couldn’t move—she just didn’t move.
Despite all of Clayman’s lofty words, he was probably freaking out over why it
wasn’t working at all.
Complete Memory, one of Shion’s skills, was
the power to record memories into her astral body. In layman’s terms, it let
her retain her memories even if her brain was destroyed. Combine a conscious
soul with a set of memories, and you could regenerate the physical body even if
it was vaporized. This made Shion into a special sort of race—call her a
demi-spiritual life-form if you want—but essentially, it allowed her to think
with her soul, and that meant any effect that tried to take over her spirit was
neutralized. Against Shion, no mind-takeover curses could ever work.
“Hey,” an annoyed-sounding Shion called out
from within her cocoon of black string, “what are you trying to do with this?
It’s not hurting me at all, but should I wait a little longer?”
You know—and this has been something I’ve been
thinking for a while now, but—I really wish she’d stop acting like this was a
pro-wrestling bout. This was supposed to be a duel to the death. Why was she
deliberately letting herself get hit by her enemy’s moves? Shion, Sufia…and
Milim, too. I just didn’t understand how these war-loving freaks thought
sometimes. Gimme a break.
Raphael confirmed to me that Shion wasn’t
being affected at all, though. There wasn’t any need to even beware of
Clayman’s secret techniques.
“That—that’s ridiculous… My Demon Marionette
doesn’t work? It has to! This cannot even be possible! It’s the ultimate in
demon domination! It can exact its rule over demon lords!”
It had ruled over Nine-Head a moment ago.
Certainly, you could take over the mind of a calamity-level monster with it
easily enough. But would it work on the disaster-class demon lords? I think
Clayman overestimated his own strength.
Apparently sick of waiting any longer, Shion
used his aura to rip her cocoon apart. “So ridiculous,” she scornfully
muttered. “Relying on such cheap tricks as this… You don’t deserve your title
at all.”
Clayman just stood there, finally succumbing
to the panic.
…Or not. What Shion said must’ve flipped a
switch somewhere inside of him.
“Heh-heh-heh… Ha-ha-ha-ha-haaaaaaa!! I don’t
deserve my title? You’ll regret saying that, you maggot! Yes, you’ll regret
extracting my full strength from me!”
His shoulders were shaking as he shrieked with
laughter. Off went his fancy-looking suit jacket and shirt, leaving him
topless. It also left assorted other items he had hidden on his body to clank
against the floor, no longer of use to him. I had thought this was over, but
Clayman still had something left to rely on.
Suddenly, two pairs of arms grew out from his uncovered
back—long, thin, and protected by a black exoskeleton. This was his true
character. Not the dolled-up form from before, but this form that evoked wild,
crazed insanity.
“But yes… Yes, you’re right. A demon lord… I
am a demon lord. I focused on ease and elegance in the way I go about matters,
dispatching my foes with style. But enough of that. It doesn’t matter. I had
forgotten about how this feels, for so long…and now I’m going to crush you in
my hands!!”
The true nature of his rage came to the surface.
All he had on him was something he kept preciously protected in his hand. A
mask. A jester’s mask, decorated with a smile. Without a moment’s pause, he put
it on.
“Hoh? Looks like you’ve grown worthier,” a
happy-sounding Shion said. “I’m glad to see that. I am Shion, secretary and
personal guard to the demon lord Rimuru, and I will be happy to fight you!”
“And I am the demon lord…no, the ‘Crazed
Clown’ Clayman. You are dead, Shion the magic-born!”
The introductions were made. The two moved at
the same moment.
Clayman, in his “real”
form, was a powerhouse, laying out the full extent of his demon lord–worthy
magical force against Shion. His normal arms wielded those ominous black beams
of light. The upper arms from his back wielded an ax and a hammer; the lower
ones, a sword and shield.
Dealing with both magical and melee attacks at
once baffled Shion for a moment. But she was stronger. Swinging the sword she
called Goriki-maru Version 2, she clanged the sword out of his hand and crushed
his shield. A simple, tactless roundhouse slash from above smashed through the
ax and hammer Clayman crossed in front of him.
That freakish force came courtesy of Shion’s
intrinsic skill Ogre Berserker, and her frenzy of weapon breaking was the work
of Guarantee Results and Optimal Action, both part of her Master Chef unique
skill. In other words, Clayman was still no match for her. Even with all his
might, she was just pummeling him.
Now he was crossing his two pairs of steellike
arms to block Shion’s fists—but they, too, were smashed to ribbons. Her next
punch landed squarely in the pit of his stomach.
“Orrgghhh…”
He fell in agony, foaming at the mouth. There it is. The end.
Not that it’s for me to say, but Shion really
had gotten overwhelmingly stronger. Dying and getting resurrected like that
gave her power on a scale like nothing she ever had before.
“Gerrhhaaahh?!!”
She planted a follow-up kick on him, making
him roll around on the ground in agony. The mask was cracked now, revealing
bloodshot eyes.
“N… N-no… This can’t be. How could…could I…I,
a demon lord, Clayman…?!”
Now Clayman understood the difference in
power. But he still refused to accept this reality. It was devastating to him.
“May I put him out of his misery, Sir Rimuru?”
Hmm. There were a few things I could ask him,
but I could predict most of the answers. Beyond that, I wanted to know about
whose bidding he was doing, but was he gonna be honest with that?
“D-dammit all!! Milim! What is Milim doing?!
Destroy that magic-born at once—”
Clayman was screaming out the words now,
realizing that his death was near. But Veldora was holding Milim back. Clayman
looked at him with disbelief.
“Wh-who…? What—what is this? His power is off
the charts…!”
He must’ve just realized that Veldora wasn’t
just another magic-born.
“Well, he’s in human form right now, but
that’s Veldora. I told you, remember? He’s my friend.”
This silenced Clayman. I’m sure he wanted to
deny it, but seeing him spar evenly with Milim forced him to admit it. The two
had been fighting for a while now, and it was turning into quite the fireworks
show. Skill names flew back and forth, many of which I think I remembered
hearing before, and Milim had an honest look of surprise on her face.
Hey, is she really being controlled? Because I’m
starting to wonder.
……
Raphael’s reaction made
me ponder the idea for a bit, but it was no big deal at the moment. Besides,
this would be the first time she’d met Veldora as a person, and it seemed like
she was having a blast.
Thus, Clayman gave up on having Milim to rely
on. Even in his panicked confusion, he managed to flee to the edge of our
isolated battle zone, shouting at the audience outside.
“F-Frey! Frey, what are you doing?! You and I
share a common fate! Get in here and lend a hand!”
The pleading fell on cold, dead ears.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Clayman. Nobody can go through
this barrier unless Guy lets them. Such a pity.”
He resentfully groaned at this heartless
reply, then turned back toward Milim, his eyes twitching and revealing the
insanity inside. He must’ve gotten another wild idea in his mind. A crazed
laugh crossed his lips as he looked at her once more.
“Kah! Kah-ha-ha-ha-ha! Milim! Milim! Follow my
orders and execute a Stampede! Kill everybody you see in here!!”
Well,
that sounds awful. Clayman just wanted to survive now,
and he didn’t care how bad he looked along the way. This is bad, I have to admit. Now isn’t the time to sit around and
watch things unfold. Back into the battle I go.
But just as I started to run, I heard the most
unbelievable thing.
“Why do I need to do that? Rimuru and his
people are my friends!”
Surprised, I turned around—only to find Milim
chilling out there, a wide grin on her face.
“Milim?! Whoa, you—weren’t you being
controlled…?”
“Waaah-ha-ha-ha! Thanks a lot for getting
tricked by that, Rimuru! You know someone like Clayman would never take over my
mind!”
Wh-what?!
……
I can’t articulate why,
but I had the strangest feeling Raphael had been angry at me for a while. But
back to Milim.
“So Clayman didn’t
seize your mind?”
Um, what’s going on here? I felt obliged to check one more time—but Milim just gave me a proud
smile. I could hear at least one demon lord in the audience say, “Huh? But she
didn’t react at all when he punched her!”
The most surprised of all, of course, was
Clayman.
“Y-yes. Yes! I used the Orb of Domination he gave me to put you completely at my beck and call… You
killed Carillon under my orders, did you not?!”
Ohhh, Clayman. So shocked by these events that
he has no idea what he just said. That oughtta make my video evidence more
believable. After all, he just revealed that not only was he the culprit, but
there was someone else pulling his strings, too.
“Yes! That! That’s what I wanted to hear,”
exclaimed Milim. “Answer me, Clayman. Who’s this he
you’re talking about?”
She asked the question casually enough, but
she backed it up with sharp, seeking eyes. She had totally ignored Clayman’s
question, which was so like her.
Right. So Milim wasn’t being controlled, and
she had her doubts about Clayman from the beginning? For what?
Before I could get an answer, another voice
butted in.
“Whoa, whoa, who’s been killed here?”
It came from the other end of the battle zone,
this low, heavy voice—belonging to the man with the eagle wings that Frey
brought along with her.
Wait, no way… Like, with that obvious a
costume…?! And if I didn’t pick up on that, does that make me…?
……
Whoa, why does it feel
like Raphael’s exasperated with me? And wasn’t it about to say something to me
back then? Or maybe not? Ah, maybe I was just hearing things. Let’s forget
about it and, um, pay more attention in the future.
The man, Carillon,
ripped the mask off his face, his awe-inspiring aura shooting out with it. With
a moment’s concentration, he was instantly back to his original appearance. Yep. That’s the Beast Master, all right. No doubt about it.
“Wow, you were all right, Carillon?”
“Yo, Rimuru. ‘All right’ ain’t how I would
describe it, but that’s fine. Thank you for taking care of my forces.”
“Oh, not a problem.”
After thanking me, Carillon gave Clayman a knowing
grin. Now it was obvious that Milim was under no one’s control.
“Wha—? How…? So it’s true…? But Frey told me…
No, Frey, too? You betrayed me as well, didn’t you?!”
Finally getting the whole picture, Clayman
gave Frey a half-crazed glare. She responded by pretending he wasn’t there.
By the looks of things, I wouldn’t call this a
betrayal, per se…
“Hmm?” Frey nonchalantly replied. “Since when
were you laboring under the assumption that I was your ally?”
Yikes. I knew it. Women can be so scary sometimes.
Frey was tricking Clayman from the get-go.
“You, you have to be kidding me! All, all of
you… You’ll pay; I’ll make you all pay for this!”
The scream of the pitiful clown echoed across
the field, and…
“Shion, do it.”
“You got it!”
Like a hungry dog released from the command to
stay, Shion bounded off, using both hands to swing down her blade as quickly as
she possibly could. It was a single blow from her sword, a judging strike.
Clayman did his best to block it, but his three pairs of arms were all sliced
off, his body slashed diagonally down from head to toe. It was unsurvivable—and
that one stroke from Shion’s spirit-crushing blade made Clayman fall wordlessly
to the ground.
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