Tensei Shitara Slime Datta Ken (LN) - Volume 12 - Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

ACCOMPLISHMENTS AND PREPARATIONS

Several months had passed since the summit and Guy’s sudden visit.

Time had flown by so fast—it had already been a year since I became a demon lord. The Walpurgis meeting; the duel against Hinata; the Founder’s Festival; and then the fight against Maribel and the Rozzo family. So much had happened that the year seemed to pass in the blink of an eye.

Even after the second annual Tempest Resurrection Festival—a much quieter affair than the first one, held with only my closest friends—the Empire still showed no signs of movement. According to Soei and Moss, however, supplies were being constantly transported to the main cities near their military borders. At this rate, even I could see the writing on the wall. War was just about to kick off.

Given our assumption that conflict was inevitable, we had grown far stricter with our entry checks for people visiting Tempest. We couldn’t put out the welcome mat for everyone and their dog like before. Now we only let in adventurers or merchants with the proper identification, as well as those with legitimate referrals or the like. This was out of concern for spies, but we had another reason as well—a sort of classification system.

We were visited by far more than just humans, and each had their own qualitative differences. Those of unidentifiable origin often tended to be pretty uncivilized, and if we let a lot of those folks in, we wouldn’t be able to handle them all. We could make it clear that hostile behavior around town was forbidden, but at the end of the day, we couldn’t really stop some fool from storming in and going out of control. There was a barrier over town, yes, but it was tough to block every single kind of magic. That was the difference between a town of humans and a town of monsters.

So after discussing matters with Gazel, we decided to follow the lead of the Dwarven Kingdom. When we granted someone entry, they’d need to first learn the basic Tempestian rules and regulations. An intake, basically.

If someone wanted to relocate to Tempest, they’d need more formal schooling. We’d ferry them to a site built for that very purpose and teach them there; they’d receive an entry permit only upon learning an employable trade or skill. Shion’s troops were a good fit for this job—if any would-be residents got violent, they could put ’em back in their place well enough. It’d help us catch imperial spies, too, so I thought this system was gonna be a permanent part of how things worked around here.

During the visitors’ intake, we’d gauge each visitor and ask them why they want to enter Tempest. Preventing swarms of penniless people from rushing in was another way to stave off trouble around town.

We had a lot of regular lodging around the coliseum, but they were used by the destitute. The more well-off merchants and nobles were shown to neighborhoods with fancier quarters. For the real upper crust, meanwhile, we had our five-star facilities, the best the city of Rimuru had to offer; this was where we pointed visitors looking to recuperate at our health spas. They say that memories are priceless, but you ain’t gonna get away with that in our nation. As much as I wanted people to enjoy their travels, you had to pay what you had to pay.

Our price ranges ran the gamut. Your run-of-the-mill lodging started at thirty silver coins a night; the wealthier merchants and lower-level nobles could afford places that began at one gold coin. From there, the sky was the limit, really; we had rooms available that cost ten gold or more a night—wait, why am I prattling on like some travel agent?

My point, though, is that we could provide services for a wide swath of social classes. I wanted tons of people to see us as a vacation destination, so we were also working hard on PR, giving out high-end lodging to our most active merchants or people who made it past Floor 10 of the Dungeon. The Dungeon-runner clientele really loved that—everyone knew how great the food was at those places, so it really built up enthusiasm. Even one meal there cost ten silver coins and up. Considering the very cheapest accommodations ran around three silver, that must’ve felt superexpensive, but sometimes you want to splurge a bit, and sometimes you come across easy money in the Dungeon. Providing people a way to spend that cash was our job as proprietors.

Getting past Floor 10, by the way, generally meant you were an adventurer ranked C-plus or higher, capable of beating a B-rank black spider when part of a group. Doing that solo would rank you at least a B, so I figured it’d be fine to let them have some extra perks. Socially speaking, it’s equivalent to being knighted in one of the smaller kingdoms—a B rank from the Guild meant you could find work as a knight in well-nigh any country.

Recognizing people for their abilities like that naturally helps them mind their manners a little more. Besides, a B-rank adventurer probably has a decent amount of money to their name already, labyrinth junkie or not. Elen’s party was pretty destitute, but that’s the exception to the rule. Plus, if they do start trouble in town, they wouldn’t have anywhere to go. The upper-class district was surrounded by a moat and heavily defended; as we explained to visitors, if you’re kicked out once, you’re never getting back in again. Nobody’s gonna attempt crime once they’re aware of that, so along those lines, I thought we were doing a good job projecting a clean image.

Meanwhile, the merchants—being merchants, after all—were clamoring to get in, seeking Tempest-branded weapons and crafts to sell. Some of them were doing a very brisk business, and a lot of them were pretty loaded. More and more of them were using our fancier lodging without having to be plied with free nights.

To people like these, we sold the battle gear crafted by Kurobe’s apprentices and the handiwork made by Dold’s—all high-quality, of course, and all well reviewed. The merchants would also buy a lot of the more unusual equipment picked up from the Dungeon’s treasure chests, something I wasn’t thrilled about but tolerated for the time being. I made sure anything really dangerous from there didn’t leak out to the general buying public.

All this stuff would then get sold across the continent, helping to boost our nation’s image. Perhaps thanks to that, we had started to see a larger general audience of Dungeon guests as of late. Word of mouth really is a powerful thing.

You might wonder why we focused on this stuff when the danger of war was so close, but that was that, and this was this. Even I knew that I was being pretty self-indulgent…but as much as I was on alert for the danger to come, I didn’t fear it. No point giving up on living a normal life. You just gotta keep building up what you can.

So the capital was growing at a decent rate, as was our international transportation network.

Following Benimaru’s negotiations, Momiji and the tengu tribe had pledged their support. We now had a mountain tunnel completed, and the paving work was done as well, save for a few spots. We had also handed over construction on the highway between Tempest and Thalion to the laborers Archduke Erald brought along with him, so we’d have a direct route to there before much longer.

Work had begun on a railroad track to the Kingdom of Farminus, and it was proceeding along at a feverish pace. The track was already complete to Englesia, wrapped up on time, and the same was true for the Dwarven Kingdom—they even finished the lodging town located on a stop along the way. This was built on a spot past the Forest of Jura, right where it intersects with the Great Ameld River; it was a perfect rest stop, and it saw use as a base of operations during highway construction. The track was built alongside the river, so it was a fine place to serve as a midway point. We had enlisted the monsters living nearby to build the town, and there was no reason to let it go to waste post-construction, so we outfitted the buildings some more and made it into a full lodging stop. (Going forward, I want this town to become a major city and terminal hub, so I’m sure it’ll grow in importance as the years go by.)

The highway to Eurazania had now been fully widened. It was still unpaved in spots but fully navigable from start to finish. The merchants had been bugging me to get the paving done, because the route was jarringly uncomfortable on a high-speed wagon—but even so, it was incomparably safer and more convenient than what existed before. Lights kept the whole highway illuminated for night travelers, and the automatic magical generators at regular intervals formed a barrier that kept hostile monsters at bay.

Thus, in less than a year, we had a full transportation network pretty much completed.

Practical testing had begun for magitrains traveling to the Dwarven Kingdom and Englesia, letting us tabulate data and work out issues. The track tests were all done, so now we were beta testing the trains on the field. They maintained an average speed of around thirty miles an hour and could carry an unprecedented amount of cargo at once; it’d pretty much rewrite the history of logistics in this world, I figured.

Now we could transport food without it spoiling en route. That was bound to enrich cuisine across the board while reducing the number of people going hungry in times of famine. I was once again reminded how logistics like these were a must-have in order to expand our country’s influence.

Along with this data collection, we were also considering the magitrains’ operation cycles in detail, a trial-and-error process as we worked out our first public schedule. The track between Tempest and Dwargon extended some 620 miles; at thirty miles an hour, it took twenty-one hours—less than a day—to go from one end to the other. By comparison, Englesia was around 180 miles away, so you could reach it in six hours.

These figures, of course, reflected a pretty hefty safety cushion. In theory, you could run these guys four times as fast and load them with over a thousand tons of goods, based on our calculations…but these magitrains were without precedent. If we ran them at full power and something came up, we wouldn’t be able to deal with it.

For now, we’d see how things would go. All transportation, of course, has its glitches, and we needed to factor rest time in as well. Magitrains could run for only so long at a time, so we weren’t doing overnight runs for the time being—besides, we couldn’t assign day and night shifts to mechanics and operators unless we could handle replacement parts and other maintenance overnight.

We currently had twenty locomotives in operation. Each one could pull two freight cars and three passenger cars, making them six-car trains. Our passenger cars each held eighty seats but could hold a maximum of 150 people—although, I figured we shouldn’t allow that, since it’d force people to stand for hours on end. Thus, if we aimed for over two hundred passengers per trip, that’d put us at 80 percent capacity.

That left the question of just how much to charge per person… But wait a minute, why did I have to micromanage down to that level?! I’d just leave that to my old pal Mollie. I’m sure he’d work it out. It was just a matter of time before we’d go into full operation, and once we had more of a track record, I thought we could boost our capacity a bit, adding to the convenience. Maybe we could aim for ten-car trains running sixty miles an hour—I thought that was doable. Definitely not a dream—something we’d really see happen before too long.

…So really, we’d accomplished an incredible amount in a year. Announcing all these successes was bound to surprise and excite people the world over, I thought. It’d make the future brighter for us all, and it’d also show everyone how hard I was working and how useful our nation was. Lives would be more fulfilling. We’d enjoy better food and take in more entertainment from all around the world. In effect, I’d be promised a life full of fun, something I never could’ve thought about when I was first reincarnated as a slime.

If it wasn’t for the whole Eastern Empire thing, I could devote myself to my hobbies without a care in the world, but…

Suddenly, I had an idea: Why not team up with Veldora (plus whoever else wanted to join us), declare war on the Empire, and immediately assault them? I knew about the army of angels that’d attack us if our civilization grew too developed, but I didn’t even have any idea where they were. Attacking them first was gonna be difficult, but not the Empire. If they were preparing to strike us and not even trying to hide it, I couldn’t help but think—who could complain if we just did ’em in?

Part of me was just being impatient, I knew, but with this sort of thing, it was always easier to attack than defend. If the Empire was aiming to annex the Western Nations, there was no reason why they had to attack the Forest of Jura along the way. They could always decide to just ignore us. Everybody knew Veldora was revived now, and if you did even a little research, you’d realize that opposing us meant making an enemy of the Storm Dragon. It was up to the Empire to decide, and situations like these put us under a lot of stress.

So was it even possible for them to stage a direct invasion of the West?

There was no sea route. Not even a fleet of dreadnought-class warships would keep you safe against the giant sea monsters lurking there, and fighting on their turf was too risky to be tenable. There was no guarantee you’d have a safe voyage in the first place, and knights were at a terrible disadvantage in sea battle.

How many ships would you need to transport the massive number of soldiers involved? And even if you managed to land them over in Farminus, it wasn’t like Yohm and his forces were clowning around. They were fully prepared to ambush them and defend their lands. Unless they established a beachhead on the first attack, the Empire couldn’t send any reinforcements. They’d have the royal Farminus force in front, sea monsters in the back—it’d kill their morale, and we’d score an easy tactical victory.

Could the Empire ignore Farminus, then, and advance through northern Englesia? That, we concluded, would also be difficult. North Englesia was a playground for demons. Guy didn’t seem too interested in stopping them entirely, and Testarossa’s underlings were currently defending the area. You had a bunch of belligerents waging battle over there at regular intervals, so if the Empire staged an invasion, we predicted they’d be sitting ducks, essentially.

Between this, that, and the other thing, a naval invasion seemed reliably out of the picture. What about on land? There, the Empire had two options: go through the internals of the Dwarven Kingdom or traverse the Dragon’s Nest within the Canaat Mountains.

The latter option was off the table from the start—too risky. Staging a large-scale march across peaks higher than Mount Everest was suicidal, no matter how much you prepared for it. You couldn’t train an entire infantry force to be expert mountain climbers, and even if you could, you had hordes of dragons—A-rank monsters—waiting for you beyond. Common sense dictated that not even the most epically stupid leader would pick that route.

How viable was the Dwarven Kingdom route, however? I had Hinata check into that, based on Raphael’s suggestion, and she reported that a large force could theoretically navigate through it. Gazel wouldn’t allow it, though, so if they actually made an attempt, the Empire would have to attack Dwargon before it ever reached the Western Nations, and that was an incredibly reckless thing to do.

The Dwarven Kingdom, officially neutral in international affairs, retained a well-trained standing army for its defense. They were outfitted in cutting-edge armaments; as the adage went, there was no such thing as a weak dwarf in a fight. Besides, the whole of Dwargon was designed like a natural fortress; all they had to do was guard the entrances, and they could keep any large force from storming in.

Out of the three main entry points—dubbed East, West, and Central—the Empire would hit East or Central. The West exit connected to Farminus, so there was no need to keep an eye on that. The East portal, nestled on the border with the Empire, was the most dangerous one, but Gazel was no fool. He had concentrated his armies here, having them look into the Empire’s moves. If something went down, I’d head to the scene as well, but overall I thought we could leave Dwargon in Gazel’s hands.

That, all in all, was the current situation for Tempest.

In conclusion, the only real choice the Empire had was to pass through the Forest of Jura. And before my briefing with Benimaru (now part of the daily routine), my mind was in a spin over it.

If they selected a route through the forest we protected, the Empire’s biggest bottleneck would be the presence of Veldora. They could never beat him head-on, so we guessed that they’d prepare a decoy force to try to lead him astray. I needed to remember that as I thought about our nation’s defensive preparations.

Within the Forest of Jura, there were three routes suitable for military activity. One of them, however, was in a region near the Dwarven Kingdom. If the Empire threw caution to the wind and invaded there, they’d be boxed in by dwarven and Tempestian forces on all sides. The Empire must’ve known how dangerous this route would be, so I didn’t feel we needed to be too alert for activity there.

Thus it was likely that they’d take one of the remaining two routes. But was it really that simple? It was never a good idea to split up your forces against a large foe, so perhaps we could station Veldora on one route and our full army on the other. That’d make us prepared for a potential decoy force—but I was no trained military officer, and even I could come up with that tactic. I doubted a professional would take such a simple approach.

But maybe the Empire was looking down on us. Maybe they’d try taking an overwhelming force and mow down whatever they ran into, whether it was Veldora or an army of monsters. Or maybe they’d try something sneakier and more unorthodox, like make the main force the decoy and send out teams of guerrilla-style fighters who could group back together once they made it out of the forest. If so, well, it was impossible to monitor every single path in the woods. If we deployed recon forces, they could wind up casualties depending on the size of the enemy they ran into. What if they had teams of paladin-class fighters on the prowl out there, like Hinata and her soldiers?

If we wanted to consider all those possibilities, there just wasn’t enough personnel to cover all the plausible invasion routes. It’d be risky to make a move only when we knew the Empire’s aims, so I wanted to avoid that. If we fell behind, there was a chance we’d never recover. That’s what I was on the lookout for—but the problem was that we had no idea what moves the Empire was making.

In war, surprising your opponent gave you an advantage. Make a move your enemy didn’t account for, and that alone often led to victory. We’d have to consider every possibility…but now I was going around in circles. This wouldn’t work. All this thinking was just frustrating me. Maybe we really should just go and attack them after all, huh? Wouldn’t that be the right answer—declare war, then go crazy on them the next instant?

We had no guarantees the Empire would move the way we predicted, so there was no point pondering this any further. I really thought the most rational approach was to attack without waiting for them to move. It’d give us the initiative, and we wouldn’t have to worry about all this other stuff… Not that I’d do it, but…

Thinking about it like this wouldn’t produce an answer. It was best to play this kinda thing by ear. Yeah. I like the sound of that—it makes me seem so capable. Let’s go with that.

And so coming to pretty much the same conclusion I did about every other problem in my life, I reached out for one of the cream puffs Shuna brought for me. Whenever I’m doing serious thinking, I start craving something sweet. Even if I overindulged, there was no way I’d ever get bored of it. If I did, well, I’d just play it by ear then.

“What, just for you? That’s not fair.”

I was satisfying my thirst with some of Shion’s tea and enjoying the cream puff when Benimaru finally showed up. We were in my office, a bit later than usual for our now-daily briefing. I asked him to prepare for the Empire battle we were picturing, and it kept him really busy, but I wasn’t narrow-minded enough to carp on him about being a little late.

What? Why don’t I give him a hand? I got no idea what you’re talking about. This is no space for amateurs.

“Get some tea for Benimaru, too, Shion.”

“Right away!”

Benimaru, having experienced trauma at the hands of Shion’s cooking, always kept a wary eye on her. Tea was all right, at least, but even then he never let down his guard. Classic Benimaru.

“Thank you very much,” he said to me. “All that work makes you crave something sweet, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, kind of. We have access to a lot more sugar now than before. Hopefully, things can stay peaceful around here.”

“You’re right. But if it comes down to a conflict, well, we can simply wipe the floor with them.”

Confident as always. I was glad to see that, but hopefully he wouldn’t forget to at least try to avoid conflict.

“Here you go!” Shion said, offering Benimaru some tea. She refilled my cup as well, the aroma already putting me at ease.

“So how is Diablo faring?” Benimaru asked me.

“Oh, he’s mediating again today.”

“Again?”

“Yep. Again.”

Yes, Diablo was back on mediator duty, because Ultima and Carrera just couldn’t stop causing trouble on a daily basis. It’s not that they didn’t get along; they were just driven to compete with each other on Every. Single. Little. Thing.

Yesterday it was about a criminal transport; before then, it was over how to handle a suspect in custody. Sometimes they’d argue over food on the menu; sometimes they’d squabble over who would purchase a new outfit first. It’d be one thing if they kept it to verbal sparring, but when those two went at it, it turned into a street war that would make even the yakuza balk. Once it reached that point, only Diablo could stop them—if he sent his underling Venom in, he’d just get his ass kicked. No innocent bystanders had been hurt yet, but they had become notorious enough that people bet on the outcomes of their fights…which was great and all, but I couldn’t let this stand.

So I’d send Diablo out to handle them, but perhaps it was time to consider a more permanent solution. Otherwise, I feared Diablo was gonna blow his top before long.

A little while back, Diablo took Ultima and Carrera into the Dungeon. This was nothing cute, like a date; as he passionately explained to me, it’d be a chance to give them a thorough combat education. He used that space (and the immortality it provided) to beat the crap out of them, but apparently not even that taught them a lesson. In fact, fighting Diablo seemed to fill them with joy. Why did demons have to be so damn belligerent? I was really starting to wonder how much more I could handle.

“I have returned, sir.”

As Benimaru and I chatted for a while, Diablo returned, looking visibly drained.

“Hey. Thanks for handling that.”

“No, no, it was hardly anything difficult, but now I’ve lost the time I meant to spend with you, Sir Rimuru—”

“Right, if you’re not tired out, let’s begin.”

“Very well.”

Well, if he was still capable of talking nonsense, I figured he was fine. Diablo looked like he wanted to say something, but I was sure it was the same old crap as usual. No need to worry about it, I thought as I began our briefing with Benimaru.

As I mentioned earlier, we were seeing increased immigration into the country. One issue this creates is how to get all these new people working.

Our employment rate was very important, as it was for any nation. Having all our citizens working diligently in one position or another was vital for improving our productivity. If your employment stats were good, that also bumped up personal consumption and, in turn, the economy. If they were bad, that could lead to harder times and a rise in crime.

Managing this figure was the job of a nation’s leadership, but it was an incredibly tough one. Immigrants came to Tempest with a wide range of abilities, but we had only so much demand for unskilled labor that anyone could do. We were a rapidly developing nation at one point, experiencing a huge boom in construction, and that helped us keep things going for a while—but that era was coming to an end, and we had to think about what was next.

Skilled people wouldn’t be a problem. Artisans with technical talents and people who could keep a roof over their head with their skills were easy to accommodate. The issue was the people without the proper know-how or ways to make money. You could give a farmer land; you could bring an artisan to a studio. The Dungeon was ready-made for adventurers, and performers could be hired at a theater. But how should we handle anyone who lacked those talents?

The answer I came up with was to establish educational facilities. During intake, we’d ask applicants about their skills and give them opportunities to learn based on their responses. These facilities were where they’d learn, and it’d be managed by Benimaru’s forces.

“Immigration is on the rise, and we’re attracting a lot of volunteers for the army. I can’t say how qualified they are, but they ought to be able to handle security within our borders.”

That was the approach we had been testing out, but apparently the army was dealing with even more volunteers these days. Enlistment guaranteed you’d be fed, taught a trade for free, and even get referrals to civilian jobs—those were the rumors going around. Thanks to that, they were seeing not only new transplants, but adventurers and mercenaries as well.

Now, given that we took on national-defense duties for the Western Nations, we did need to address expanding our military. With that in mind, I wouldn’t call this a problem for now. We had little issues here and there, but nothing that couldn’t be handled internally. The problem was that it was starting to look more and more like war with the Eastern Empire. We couldn’t put raw recruits on the line for that, so it was time to reorganize our forces. I had asked Benimaru to provide me with a new organizational chart.

“This is the new structure we’ve contemplated,” he explained as he took out a sheet of paper and spread it on my desk. “Some of the assignments are rather bold, I would say, but I think they can work.”

Benimaru would remain commander, with me maintaining supreme command (including the right to appoint officers). These used to be basically the same thing, but I split them up and assigned one to Benimaru. My thought was that you can’t let a military amateur like me attempt an army command, so I wanted Benimaru to have first say in all military affairs. This meant that Benimaru’s orders outranked mine within the army—but not when it came to strategic maneuvers. I could appoint people to upper command, and I could declare an end to an ongoing war. Benimaru could name whoever he wanted to positions lower than general, but I was allowed to establish army corps and appoint generals. Thus it was up to me to check over Benimaru’s org chart and decide whether to consent to it.

“Hmm… Well, if you think it’ll work, I don’t intend to complain about anything…”

Even if I didn’t intend to complain, I still had stuff I wanted to say. Given my appointive power, I’d have to answer to my assignments if something went bad. But we had already heavily debated over this organizational structure, so all that was behind us anyway. And in the end, the only appointment I really insisted upon was Gobta as leader of our new First Army Corps.

“When you first suggested naming Gobta as a general, I honestly didn’t know what to think… But now, I agree this really suits him,” said Benimaru.

As his reaction indicated, there were differing opinions on promoting Gobta to general. Certainly, I could understand if the idea of giving that fool Gobta actual responsibility made people anxious. He’d be making decisions that could affect his army’s lives, so Benimaru and the other staff officers were naturally going to be hesitant. He slept through a lot of meetings, and it wasn’t like I thought it’d go problem-free…but I also knew that he had undergone special training in secret—and that he wanted to keep this nation safe as much as anyone.

“Right?! When push comes to shove, that guy really steps up.”

And when it doesn’t, he doesn’t. But his men trusted in him, and in his own way, he cared a lot about others. Most of all, I trusted him.

“He’s one of the Big Four as well, after all. I’m sure you’re not incorrect in your judgment, Sir Rimuru!”

“Precisely,” chimed in Diablo. “Also, just in case, I will deploy Testarossa as an observer. If he falls out of line, she’ll fix him up.”

Shion and Diablo, his fellow Big Four members, were just as enthusiastic about Gobta…and I supposed Benimaru accepted him, too.

“Well,” he said with a grin, “as chief of the Big Four, I can’t say no to him. And Diablo’s right—if something comes up, we can just offer him some support, right? Let’s give him the job.”

“Ah, he’ll be fine. He may not look it, but he’s a really good guy.”

And so Gobta was now an army general.

I eyed the org chart carefully, checking out the other corps generals.

Three corps had been established in all, underneath Benimaru’s command. We had just discussed the First Army Corps, led by Gobta with Hakuro as a military adviser. The corps was staffed as follows:

• 100 Goblin Riders

Each one of them had grown to an A-minus threat, wielding lieutenant-level powers.

• 12,000 of the Green Numbers

The original 4,000 would receive promotions, while the 8,000 new recruits would sign on as privates. I was told they’d operate in groups of three.

We had gained a lot of soldiers in the past year, mostly monsters native to the Forest of Jura. That led to few difficulties, reportedly. The newer foot soldiers would be ranked no better than D or C, but the veterans had been raised up to a B, and I could expect them to be a pretty formidable force.

Next we had the Second Army Corps, led by Geld. This force was currently deployed across the continent on intelligence and engineer duties; in times of war, we planned to call them back and have them serve as our main army. They consisted of:

• 2,000 of the Yellow Numbers

This is the corps of high orcs who had served Geld since the bad old days. Each one was pretty powerful, ranked a B-plus, and they could form an iron defense that operated in lockstep with Geld himself. I’d have them serve as platoon leaders bringing together the younger troops.

• 35,000 of the Orange Numbers

The newer high orcs were brought on as volunteers to this force. As a team, they managed a C rank, but only the veterans—some 15,000 soldiers—would get involved in actual combat. We planned to have the remainder provide rear support and engineering work.

That left the Third Army Corps, our elite flying commando unit, finally ready to see some action. Their general was Gabil, founder of the unit, and they were composed like this:

• 100 members of Team Hiryu

These guys needed no introduction—they were the best Tempest had to offer. Every member was an A-minus threat by themselves, combining flight skills with effective commanding abilities. Some of them even made the grade for a solid A rank, capable of tapping the Dragon Body skill in a pinch.

• 3,000 of the Blue Numbers

This was the group of lizardman volunteers who joined the force out of sheer love for Gabil. As the original members of the group, they only ranked a C-plus individually, but that didn’t let you see the whole picture. The Blue Numbers’ most unique trait was their fighting skill while flying on wyverns, securing air superiority and wielding the most devastatingly concussive force of any battle. However, we currently had just three hundred wyverns ready in our stables, so not all of them had a mount yet.

For the most part, their duties will involve backup support and wyvern management; it’ll be a while before they really get to shine. But don’t count them out just yet. Wyverns are a subspecies of Lesser Dragons, monsters worth a B-plus ranking. Gabil has found a way to capture and raise them, and he says expanding their flock is his next goal. Once every Blue Number gains their own, that’s when the squadron will really prove their worth.

Those were the three corps answering directly to Benimaru.

“So Geld’s leading the Second Corps, and Gabil, the Third? Doesn’t sound like a problem to me.”

“Yes, I considered a number of possibilities, but these seemed like the safest bets.”

He didn’t need to remind me. These were generals I could rely on. I didn’t even see any issue with Gabil. Sure, he got way too full of himself, but he was well versed in combat, always performing excellently in our drills, and even Benimaru considered him a rival. I didn’t think he was a particularly good strategist, but his tactical mind on the field was sharp. He also cared deeply for his troops, unafraid to pull them back if needed. A fine candidate for the job.

“And this,” Benimaru said as he pulled out another sheet of paper, “is the same as I showed you before.” It listed three more military forces.

One was Team Kurenai, Benimaru’s elite guard of three hundred troops. The A-rank Gobwa was their leader, and every one of them was ranked A-minus or higher. Now they also managed the army’s general staff headquarters.

Seeing her in combat training, I was struck that someone like Gobwa could hold her own against an upper-level magic-born like Gelmud—or maybe even fare better than that. Looking at the rest of the unit, I saw at least a few who scored an easy A in my eyes, some who could take on a paladin and win. There was no guessing how deep their fighting skills went.

For the most part, a monster’s strength was evaluated based on their magical power—their magicule count. If a monster was innately strong, the whole level-assignment system couldn’t really apply, but in addition to their natural physical capabilities, our troops had received military training, granting them strengths better geared for battle.

I don’t think it’s out of line to assume they’re better than what the standard judgment criteria would suggest. I could tell because, even with exceptional cases like Hakuro, it is plain to see across the board. The fact is, this unit’s full of real warriors, well-honed troopers who managed to survive Hakuro’s hellish training.

Next was Team Kurayami, Soei’s group of a hundred or so intelligence officers. This unit was a mystery in a lot of ways—it was under Soei’s complete control, and few people knew it even existed. As far as I was aware, however, they were pretty damn good fighters. Soka was a definite A ranker, along with the four squadron leaders serving under her, but that wasn’t even the cream of the crop. There were a few special-A people on the team, Glenda Attley among them.

What’s more, a few folks who went through Tempest’s justice system managed to work out plea bargains with Testarossa to serve under Soei in this squad. This included Girard, who headed the Sons of the Veldt mercenary team, along with the elementalist Ayn under him. Both of them were well past the A rank and now serving as excellent secret agents.

I once teased Team Kurayami by calling them a rogue band of special-forces problem children, but now it really was starting to look that way. Soei warned me not to expect much from them in battle, but I didn’t believe him—they seemed pretty good at assassinations, for one, and if you have that many dudes ranked above an A on one team, how could they not be total badasses? Honestly, I’m not completely sure what direction Soei was taking with these guys. You occasionally heard some ominous rumors about the unit, and I couldn’t blame anyone for spreading them.

Last but not least was Shion’s Team Reborn, a hundred members in all. The one unique trait about this unit was that they just didn’t die. Taking advantage of their astonishing regeneration skills, they had undergone incredibly severe training, making every member B-plus or above. Considering they only managed C level before, that was the most growth out of anyone on our force. They had all proven themselves in combat against the Crusaders, too, so for all I know, maybe some of them broke the barrier and scored an A rank. Team Hiryu was likely the strongest of them all for now, but as far as I was concerned, if any unit had the potential to snatch that title, it was Shion’s.

What’s more, Benimaru had assigned Reborn to be my personal elite force, a kind of imperial guard. I wasn’t such a fan of that, but using them for missions that took advantage of tenacity—decoy runs, for example, to buy time for the rest of the force—was what they excelled at the most. I guess if things really got screwy, I could use Team Reborn as bait and run for the hills—that’s how Shion proudly explained it to me.

It should also be mentioned that although they were my personal guard, they didn’t accept orders from me. They were there to protect me, and they were forbidden from abandoning that mission, no matter what I told them. Even if I asked them to leave, they wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice themselves for my sake. It was such a menace. (That being said, they were happy to run little errands for me, but I better not say that to Shion. Gotta keep up appearances sometimes.)

By the way, Shion also headed another force, a secret one not listed on these charts. I say “secret,” but it was the kind of open secret that everyone was aware of. This was her personal force, a kind of guard team for her, but in effect, it was quite literally her fan club. I didn’t know how big it was; probably not more than a thousand at most, I thought. Officially, it wasn’t a “force” per se, so they weren’t under Tempest control. We also knew nothing about their abilities. Were they gonna be okay, even? I didn’t want anyone to die for this—but Shion was training them on the sly, so I really had no idea what was up with them.

Still, Daggrull’s sons were apparently squadron leaders in this so-called force, and it also included some adventurers with battle experience. Maybe they’d come in handy later on, but I was more anxious than expectant. This wasn’t the kind of force you wanted on the front lines, and it was obvious why Benimaru didn’t put them on our official rolls.

I handed the sheet back to Benimaru and said, “Looks good to me. Seems we’ve got more firepower now, but I don’t see any need to change up these forces. Neither of us needs to interfere with them, I’d say.”

“Indeed. After all, I raised Team Kurenai under my own personal care, and I imagine Soei and Shion feel the same way about their own forces. I will refrain from adding them to the official hierarchy.”

Shion nodded her approval, and I had no objection, so I told him, “All right, make it so.” If you developed a team yourself, after all, you’d like to keep it near you. And really, we didn’t need to list Gabil’s Team Hiryu either; that was his suggestion, and we accepted it. (Gobta didn’t raise the Goblin Riders, exactly, but he was their colleague, their comrade in arms, and someone whose strength was without question. I wanted to keep that in consideration, even if we wound up switching commanders later.)

Now Benimaru took out a third sheet.

“So here’s what we need to discuss. These are all the forces affiliated with people besides me.”

Finally. The first two sheets simply outlined preexisting forces and their current numbers; the only real eye-opener was Gobta leading the First Corps, and I was the one who suggested that, so it wasn’t a surprise.

Now what have we here? I looked down the sheet, a bit excited.

What I saw were two diagrams marked as the left and right wings. The right wing contained numbers for our predefined corps—roughly twelve thousand for the First Corps under Gobta, thirty-seven thousand for the Second under Geld, and three thousand for the Third under Gabil, for a total of around fifty-two thousand. This was Tempest’s standing force, and a scarily large force it was. We still had room to cultivate them, too. Our nation’s population had just passed a million, and it was going up like a bullet. If you think about it, this was some pretty amazing growth, and it’s what allowed us to maintain an army this size.

That, and treating the Second Corps like a construction team was what allowed us to maintain this level of force. It would’ve been tougher, I thought, if they were incapable of producing anything outside of combat. I really had to hand it to Geld and his soldiers—without them, we’d be down to a force of fifteen thousand, and that wasn’t nearly enough to tackle the Eastern Empire. That was an issue Benimaru and I spent a little while stewing over.

“Once war begins, we can call back Geld and his corps then,” said Benimaru. “That much will work as planned…but it is still not enough. The Western Nations each retain their own militaries, I know, but having them deployed presents its own problems.”

“Yeah. We’ve taken over the Council and all, so we’d be losing out if we didn’t use them, but I think we’d have a real backlash on our hands.”

“And should a problem arise within the Western Nations, we’d have no deterrent left. That could lead to a bad situation.”

“Hmm. Everything’s fine here in Tempest, but if the Western Nations’ citizens start to question our governing, that’ll make future work harder.”

“Indeed.”

We had gone through conversations like that several times. Benimaru’s answer, I supposed, was the forces listed in the left wing of this sheet. It said:

—Western Deployment—150,000

—Magic-Born United—30,000

—Volunteer Army—20,000

“Huh. Pretty big numbers. What kinda forces are these on the left?”

“These are forces under our command, more or less. The Western Deployment is the forces serving the Council, like I discussed. These are treated as different from each nation’s standing army. They’re directly employed by the money sent by the Council—or really us, for the most part.”

Fair enough. If the Council had given us military rights, that gave us command of the forces that directly served it. I knew that, but…

“But were there really this many?”

This Council force existed well enough on paper, but they were chiefly knights and soldiers brought in by councillors from their home nations. They numbered around a thousand, and their main assignment was security at the arena in Englesia’s capital and the like. As a rule, each Western Nations member retained their own national military, charged with keeping the peace in their country. The Council itself almost never sent out military forces of its own, so there was no real need to maintain an army. (That’s part of why they so readily handed military control to us.)

Really, though, I didn’t ask for those rights because I wanted to boss them around in times of crisis. All I wanted to do was construct magitrain railroads connecting these nations, and asking for approval every time I sent Tempestian engineers out on the field was a pain in the ass. If there really was trouble, we’d send out our own army—and with that decision, we had the soldiers contracted with the Council sent back to their home nations for the time being.

In addition, we decided to establish a peacekeeping force, under the condition that we funded it. This was recruited locally, since we figured people would be more comfortable with a force of humans, instead of monsters and demi-humans.

“Yes, we disbanded the army once, and then it grew even bigger. According to Testarossa’s report, rumors spread around that joining the force ensured you free meals and lodging, so once we started recruiting, people showed up in droves.”

“Yeah, but isn’t this a peacekeeping force? We don’t need one hundred and fifty thousand people for that.”

Each nation had the right to police itself. If we started rounding up criminals, we’d be overstepping our authority. A peacekeeping force’s work is mainly disaster prevention—really, just helping engineers and providing rear support. I didn’t think we’d even need ten thousand people, much less a hundred fifty thousand.

“Well, the way Testarossa put it, that was the demand we received from all the nations,” Benimaru began before explaining it all in detail.

Once Testarossa assumed control of the Council, she started advancing a pretty bold set of reforms. I had approved them all, but they had even bigger repercussions than I imagined. All these reforms were to be spearheaded by the individual nations; we’d simply provide the needed advice and technology. Foreign aid, essentially—“official development assistance,” to use government jargon.

The way it worked was that the Council would provide public funding, and we’d provide nationally backed labor to help with whatever the nations needed. We’d hire on local people, provide technical assistance, and manage regional demands. That gave Tempestians work and a salary, and it afforded our partners the vital support they needed—a win-win kind of relationship.

But there’s no such thing as a free lunch. There was another side to this support system. For example, the way we covered our construction costs was to take back that amount in local water rights. If we built train tracks in an area, we’d apply a tax to train usage fees, collecting a profit on a permanent basis. Just like with the highways, we’d handle all maintenance in exchange for customs waivers and other rights.

Truly, the work of a demon lord—act all kind and charitable, then do some pretty vicious stuff behind the curtain. But we were helping improve people’s lives, and our partners didn’t lose on the deal, really. They were just paying us in profits on matters they couldn’t foresee doing yet.

The larger nations, of course, would likely prefer to handle things themselves. Maybe they couldn’t yet, but once they saw what we were doing, they could always copy us, steal our tech, and run it themselves. I took that as a given.

However:

“…And so even the large nations are pushing us with demands for railway infrastructure as soon as possible,” said Benimaru.

“And since we don’t have engineers in Tempest to handle that, you deployed the people we brought on as rear support instead.”

“That’s right. But apparently not even they were enough, so we’ve been fielding local people and having them join us…”

…And thanks to that, we now had a ridiculously large group of soldiers.

I had granted Testarossa full rights to act on my behalf as a diplomatic officer. I also told her that she could settle smaller affairs without having to report them to me, so not even Benimaru knew about this until fairly recently. Thanks to that, we had employed a massive number of people.

“But isn’t that what the large nations want?” I asked. “If we train a bunch of technicians for them, that’ll make it easier to operate things themselves.”

That’d be more efficient than industrial espionage—and maybe it’s harsh for me to say, but I didn’t mind that approach. It was something that’d occur to any leader. The experienced personnel this cultivated would become pillars of their native country. We’d lose some of our interests in the region, which was sad, but if the ensuing tech development led to more competition, that was pretty exciting, too.

“It doesn’t seem to be that way. They wouldn’t want to let go of those technicians then, would they?”

No, maybe not.

“…Wait. Are you saying that you took the support troops Testarossa gathered and put them all in this Western Deployment?!”

“That’s right.” Benimaru grinned, watching my surprise.

It’d be a waste to train these technicians and just let them fade away. Better to establish a real, full-on peacekeeping force that could train for disaster rescue, provide bodyguards for dignitaries, run civic defense drills, and so on. That was the rather bold decision Benimaru made.

“Testarossa was about to let them go—she was done with them, essentially, but that seemed like such a waste to me.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.”

“That, and I thought I could find work for them, so I went on my own to name them the Western Deployment.”

I see. That made sense. Of course, I wasn’t going to expect miracles from this force after only a year, but if they kept up their training, I could picture them as disaster-rescue experts or the like. They’d be good for handling accidents, and as Benimaru said, we could use them in a variety of situations.

“All right. That was a pretty good decision, Benimaru.”

“Oh, no need for praise,” he replied, although he looked a bit bashful about it.

But the Western Deployment, huh? One hundred and fifty thousand is a big number, but if we were going to deploy them across the West, it almost wasn’t enough. And if it let us retain our interests in those lands, they’d certainly be earning their keep for us. It all came as a surprise, but it was certainly news to rejoice about.

So next up…

“Okay, I get the Western Deployment, but what’s this Magic-Born United?”

They numbered thirty thousand in total—were they conscripting monsters from the Forest of Jura or something?

“That’s a force primarily composed of the magic-born who served under Clayman, actually. Geld had them working as prisoners of war, and we borrowed the ones particularly suited for combat. In exchange, we’re filling the holes with the high orcs who were working on now-completed construction projects.”

From the way Benimaru put it, he was making sure none of this shuffling affected the progress of Geld’s construction work. If so, then—well, sure, having experienced fighters would make for a better force than amateurs. But:

“Those guys wouldn’t be too cooperative, though, would they?”

Clayman’s force was mostly B-rank magic-born, though some were in the realm of A and beyond. Powerful as they were, they were actually kinda weak as a group—just a horde of monsters ruled by terror, not at all a challenge for well-trained career soldiers. Even if you gathered them all up, I didn’t think there’d be nearly enough time to train them.

“Thanks to Geld, you won’t find any selfish, violent ones in the force. Even if there were, well, I shut them up.”

Uh-huh. I’m sure it’d be easy for Benimaru to overpower any of them.

“Well, fine, but aren’t they used to regular work by now? I’m not sure forcing them into battle is such a hot idea…”

“It’s all right,” Benimaru assured me. “This is something they suggested. They wanted to show you, Sir Rimuru, that they could be of use to you.”

“Huh?”

That was a surprise, coming from him. As selfish as all those magic-born were, now they were volunteering for duty?

“It comes down to good food, good company, a boss who says they need them, and decent work. That’s what they valued, and they want to stake their powers on protecting it. They were quite enthusiastic.”

“They were…?”

It was an unexpected stroke of luck, but one I really appreciated. Conscripted forces, after all, were useless in actual battle. If they were defending their homeland, maybe there’d be no other option, but otherwise, it’d be much smarter for them to unconditionally surrender.

Nobody wanted to be a slave to another country. If you were going to be colonized and taxed to oblivion, you’d feign obedience but constantly seek out a chance to rise up and take revenge. But unless the invaders truly were cruel and abusive, you could decide to put up with a few disadvantages in the meantime. An invader could never ignore the feelings of the people living there; those people needed to take responsibility for the future they decided on, and a ruler had to answer to them.

That’s why I thought conscription was among the worst things you could do to people. It’s why you never tried to force patriotism down their throats.

Tempest operated under my protection, and I had no intention of listening to outsiders pushing their own arrogant demands. As long as I wasn’t willing to easily give up our rights, there were always going to be differences of opinion. If the other side wouldn’t bend, that’d naturally lead to war, and I didn’t want opposition to that. If someone didn’t feel like protecting their own country, I honestly didn’t mind if they just went off somewhere.

One thing I wanted to make very clear was who I felt it was important to protect. Naturally, I’d prioritize my companions who’d stuck by me through thick and thin from the moment I established this nation. Anyone who came along later, talking about their own rights, I had no intention of going quite that far for. If I had no citizens to protect, I’d probably bug out as well—and then I’d build a new nation somewhere else, with companions I saw eye to eye with. After all, I had no great affinity for this land.

But at the same time, if these people loved Tempest, this land we all belonged to, I was ready to live up to every bit of that. No matter who attacked us, I’d smash them with every ounce of my might. Hell, even if it was Guy doing the attacking, I was ready to use any trick in the book to kill him. I mean, he was a freak of nature, and I hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but still.

“They certainly seemed enthusiastic enough to me, and I’d say they were being honest with their feelings. In addition, we also had volunteers among people across the Forest of Jura who heard rumors of an impending war. That’s what the Magic-Born United is composed of.”

Benimaru chuckled a bit as he added, “I did reject a lot of the weaker-looking ones, though.”

Well, excellent. It gave them a chance to really work hard for me; I was glad for it.

The Volunteer Army, meanwhile, was a force composed of human beings living in Tempest or its neighboring areas. If we lost this war (no matter how it happened), the entire Forest of Jura would fall into ruin. Better to cooperate with us from the beginning, then, and that’s exactly what this band did.

This army was chiefly composed of adventurers and mercenaries, many of them immigrant volunteers we had accepted into the country. We also had a lot of the idiots we saw constantly staking their lives in the Dungeon, only to be eaten alive by my friends’ and my avatars each time. They numbered twenty thousand in total, and while I didn’t expect too much from them, that was still a pretty decent force.

“That’s the composition of the left wing. So the main difference between the left and right here is the degree of loyalty to you, Sir Rimuru.”

“Me?”

“The forces on the right consist of nothing but those ready to stake their lives for your nation or you. On the left, meanwhile, are a bunch of people with different motivations. Some may have had lofty intentions, but we hardly had the time to interview each one of them, so I went with this organizational structure.”

“I see…”

Shion and Diablo were nodding behind me. I could already hear them saying some pretty disturbing things—“They’re disposable pawns, then”; “Let us give them a trial and pick only the true elites among them”; that kinda thing—but surely it was just my imagination.

“So the next issue is who to name leader of each force.”

Now Benimaru was tackling the real task at hand.

Let’s start with the Western Deployment. They were the biggest force, but their members were still scattered all across the land.

“In terms of sheer numbers,” Benimaru began, “we’ve got a quarter million under our command, but I believe it best to keep the one hundred and fifty thousand in the Western Deployment where they are, instead of moving them around.”

“Yeah. They still technically belong to the Council. Maybe we’re free to move them, but I doubt we’ll have to call them all the way over here.”

If we could get them all in one place, I’d be able to magically transport them in one fell swoop, of course. But managing a crowd of one hundred and fifty thousand is a huge responsibility; without a chain of command in place, they’d never act like a sensible army. Best to get a solid security structure in place, just so imperial agents can’t start diverting their attention around the world.

“I agree with you, Sir Rimuru. I have the power to manage them, I believe, but let’s keep the Western Deployment where they are. There’s no single leader for them, but I’m thinking that Testarossa, our diplomatic officer, can handle those duties as well.”

“I like that idea…but if war breaks out, I might wind up calling Testarossa back here. If I do, I’m worried about how she’ll stay in contact with them.”

How would she keep in touch with a force dispersed across such a wide range? We had successfully built a communications network connecting each nation and their main cities, using magical calls, communication crystals, and magisteel wiring. But the infrastructure didn’t extend out to the individual town-and-village level yet—in fact, that’d be a job for our corps of engineers. Each squadron in the Deployment had at least one magic practitioner, so magical calls would be possible at least, but…

“That will not be a problem,” said Diablo. “Moss is capable of managing hundreds of squadrons at once.”

“Yes, that’s what Soei told me as well,” added Benimaru. “Moss was working with him in intelligence gathering, but it sounds like he can also handle inter-squadron contacts on the side.”

He can? What an incredibly useful demon!

“Well, want to name him unit leader, then?” I offered.

“I…would feel bad for him if we did.”

“Indeed. Given Testa’s temperament, it would be a tragic situation for him. It hardly matters to me, of course, but I cannot help but feel a twinge of sympathy.”

“…All right. Let’s make Testarossa the provisional leader for now.”

Not only Benimaru, but even Diablo voiced pity for Moss. I could read between the lines well enough, so I withdrew my nomination.

For now, the Western Deployment would focus on its primary peacekeeping mission. Barring extraordinary circumstances, deploying them elsewhere would only be done as a last resort. Testarossa would lead them, but this was meant to be temporary—I made it clear that we’d replace her once someone suitable came along.

Next, the Magic-Born United. Why don’t I appoint Benimaru for that?

“Personally, I would suggest Sir Rigur,” he said.

Oh, Rigur? True, Rigur had experience leading a security force, and his over-A power was nothing to sniff at. But he was also an assistant to Rigurd, and I wasn’t sure he had time to lead a full army.

If at all possible, I wanted to settle this war with our standing forces alone—but right then, we had no idea how much military strength the Eastern Empire had ready. We had our spies en route but hadn’t gained any intel within imperial borders yet. Still, based on the snippets we learned about their training exercises, current estimates stated that at least three hundred thousand troops were going to be deployed. There was even a chance they’d send out over a million, a truly massive force.

If it came to that, we couldn’t afford to keep the Magic-Born United on ice. Along those lines, I had no issue with Rigur’s command, but I was still anxious. Managing a ragtag army with essentially no rehearsal was a dangerous job for anyone.

“…Hmm. I really do want to leave this to you, Benimaru. And in the future, we can call this mixed force the Red Numbers. I’d like you to select some captains from Team Kurenai to make this force into a coherent unit. We’ll make them into the Fourth Army Corps, and I want you to be their direct commander.”

I’d call them red because they’d stop anyone in their way. Get it? My first dad joke in a while!

…

Right. I’ll just keep that one to myself. Don’t want to kill the mood.

Despite all these ridiculous thoughts, I managed to retain my composure as the briefing hummed along.

“Very well. In that case, I accept the appointment.”

It looked like Benimaru thought I might ask that of him. He seemed ready to agree, not letting it faze him at all. He has the unique skill Born Leader, letting him cover for any lack of refinement among his forces, so he was the perfect person to lead a motley bunch like this.

So in addition to being my supreme commander, Benimaru was just appointed leader of the brand-new Red Numbers. That left the Volunteer Army.

“Now, what do you intend to do with the Volunteer Army?”

Benimaru winced. “Ah, there’s the problem.”

These volunteers included a large number of humans. Employing a monster as commander, Benimaru worried, could lead to unnecessary dissatisfaction among their ranks.

“Good point. If word starts getting around that humans can’t advance in the land of monsters, that’s gonna hurt our image.”

“Anyone with such insipid thoughts is a weakling. A loser,” Shion cut in. “They would never make anything of themselves anyway. You have no need at all to worry about them!”

“Shion, I… Okay, maybe I don’t, but if someone doesn’t know much about us, that’s gonna sound an awful lot like the truth to them.”

“True. Humans can be a fickle bunch to deal with.”

Shion may not appreciate it too much, but a brand image is a precious thing to maintain. It’d be ridiculous if we let this issue make us out to look discriminatory, so I thought it required serious debate.

“But is there really anyone suitable for the role?” Diablo asked. There wasn’t, really. That’s why Benimaru was so troubled.

“I hear you there,” I replied. “These are volunteers, besides. We didn’t even plan for them.”

“But we can’t let them go idle,” said Benimaru.

No, we couldn’t. I appreciated the humans’ ardor to serve us, and I didn’t want to let that go to waste. But if we wanted to make good use of them, we needed a talented commander. This Volunteer Army was even more ragtag than the Magic-Born United—the Red Numbers—and if you asked me who could make them into a united force, Benimaru was about all I could think of.

So now what…?

“How about Girard, in Soei’s force?” Benimaru suggested.

“No way,” I said. “We picked him up as part of a secret arrangement with Englesia. I’m sure he won’t want his face seen in public.”

I didn’t hear what kind of deal Testarossa struck with him, but having Girard bump around where everyone could see him had to be a bad idea. He’d been branded a traitor to all humankind. If we didn’t treat him as dead—at least in public—it’d set a bad example for everyone else. I didn’t have any duty to cover for him, but there was no need for him to take center stage for us, either.

“Strengthwise, I’d have no complaints, but it’s not very realistic, no…”

Benimaru didn’t seem too serious about pushing for him. I suppose he just lobbed the idea out for its own sake before he moved on to the next one. Restricting it to human beings was a pain, though. We went through several names, but none of them seemed to really fit.

Suddenly, Shion spoke up.

“Perhaps we could enlist the Crusaders for a little help?”

Benimaru and I looked at each other, then back at Shion.

“I— I’d hardly think so.”

“No, that wouldn’t be a—”

“Then how about Sir Masayuki?” she countered before I could tell her it wasn’t a good idea.

Masayuki. Hearing the name struck me like lightning.

“That’s it!” I shouted.

“Amazing, Shion!!” Benimaru hollered in tandem.

That was the exact moment we decided to appoint Masayuki to be our Volunteer Army’s leader.

This was decided, of course, without consulting the guy himself, but it was one decision that pretty much anyone would agree with. The only one less than convinced was Masayuki.

“Why me…?”

He brought a hand to his head when I gave him the news. But I didn’t have much to say to him. As sad as it was, this was war. What people wanted didn’t factor into it. I know I was thinking the opposite a moment ago, but I couldn’t worry about Masayuki’s feelings here. After all, things ought to be fine if I leave the Volunteer Army in his hands. In times like these, he was a valuable ally to have.

“You know, I think I’ve gotten better at using my Chosen One unique skill, too. I’m not getting showered in praise after everything I do, like before. But now I’m not able to use it when I want to, so please don’t expect too much of me, all right?”

He was really being a sore loser about it, trying to weasel out any way he could, but I knew that wasn’t the truth. After all, Masayuki was as popular as ever, and he still wielded massive influence around the world.

“But don’t you want to show off to Kenya and the gang?”

“I, um…”

If he accepted the job, I was willing to let him teach whatever weird stuff he wanted to the kids and bask in their adulation.

“Hey, it’ll be all right! You can do it!”

“But…”

“No buts! I helped you out when you had to face off against Bovix, remember?”

Masayuki’s party had already made it past Floor 50, where Bovix had served as guardian. During that expedition, I used my avatar to put my thumb on the scale a bit, softening up the guy enough so they could defeat him and take all the credit.

“That did save my hide, yes…”

“So do we have a deal?”

“All right.”

Between coaxing him and soothing his ego, I finally got a yes.

“You have been a big help to me, Rimuru. I really did wanna pay you back sometime, so…”

He still didn’t sound too enthusiastic, but he took the job of Volunteer Army general anyway. We received no complaints from those volunteers, either—in fact, the reaction was more like “All right!!” and “Victory is ours!!” and so on. To them, it was like going in with twenty points already on the board. No matter how much of a hangdog expression he gave me, there was no turning back.

“I knew this would happen…”

Masayuki said he had more control over the Chosen One skill these days, but what did he mean by that? Maybe my hunch was right, and he was lying…or maybe some of Masayuki’s real luck was operating on him, skill or not? That’d be even more of a surprise, actually. Leon was the opposite—everything he did tended to make him look as bad as possible. This was apparently the case even back in his Hero days; I guess it can be hard to fight your true nature.

“Now, now… I’m sorry all this got decided without you, but think about it! You’re gonna be a banner who’ll inspire the entire army!”

I tried to commiserate with him as much as I could—but regardless, Masayuki the Hero was now leading our twenty thousand (mostly) human volunteers.

So the corrected organizational chart had fifty-two thousand troops on the right wing and fifty thousand on the left. Benimaru was at the very top, the generals of each army corps below him.

We thus had over a hundred thousand soldiers to work with, but I was still iffy on whether we could take the imperial force with that. No need to panic, though. All our preparations were continuing on apace. We had one hundred and fifty thousand troops in the Western Deployment to back us up. Each of the Western Nations was prepping support units from their respective knight corps. As a final, final defensive line, we’d get the Western Nations’ army set up as well. The total would be over two hundred and fifty thousand, I was told, and if push came to shove, I’d be relying on them.

This was the figure we cobbled together from all the mercenaries and support troops, but it was hard to tell if it was a lot or a little. Testarossa had cajoled and threatened the Council into cooperating with us, not that they had much choice—if we lost, after all, it’d be their turn next. We wouldn’t be tapping into any of these forces unless things looked pretty grim for ourselves.

Regardless, we had the terrain advantage, as well as Veldora and additional support from demon lords like Luminus and Leon. Even Milim agreed to pitch in; the Beast Master’s Warrior Alliance serving Carillon would be ready to deploy at a moment’s notice.

Plus, as my personal trump card, I had the Black Corps under Diablo at the ready. Benimaru had full command over the entire military, so honestly speaking, the hierarchy didn’t give me direct control over any force. In practice, though, the Black Corps took orders from nobody but Diablo and the three demonesses under him. They were a fully independent army, totally out of Benimaru’s control.

That was the sum of our forces. And we hadn’t factored in what moves Yuuki would make.

“A war, huh?” I muttered to myself in my room. Did the Empire really want to conquer the Western Nations? Guy had used the term game to describe his motives. It sounded like there were some connections there—some kind of restless ulterior motive pointed at the Empire. But even so:

“No matter who comes along, if they lay their hands on our little paradise, I’ll crush them.”

Those were my true feelings. I had no intention of making the same mistake twice. I’m a demon lord, and I can’t afford to put the wrong things first.

Meanwhile, as Rimuru and his companions were preparing for war, the Eastern Empire was doing much the same thing…except they spent far more years preparing. Slowly, carefully, step by step, their preparations for a grand offensive took shape. Before long, the Empire would wake from its long, long slumber…and only a small amount of time remained until the storm began.