Tensei Shitara Slime Datta Ken (LN) - Volume 15 - Chapter 4.1

“Ha-ha-ha… I just heard a very funny story from Esprit.”

Carrera sounded cheerful about this, but there was already an edge to her tone.

“Oh? What kinda story?” Ultima asked, already guessing what it was.

“Well, the enemy inside this Gate just called you a ‘little brat.’”

“Uh-huh…”

Blue veins streaked across Ultima’s forehead. It made Veyron start to panic. If this was going to happen, he regretted not jumping into a Gate the first chance he had. Deep down, he reminded himself that sometimes, ignorance really is bliss.

“And he said you were ‘a toad at the bottom of a well,’ Testa.”

“A toad…?”

Testarossa was stunned into silence. Many had praised her beauty; none had ever rebuked it before. Being called a toad was a first in her life, and it made her so angry that she couldn’t even properly express it.

“That, and he called all of us ‘stinking insects.’”

Benimaru raised an eyebrow. “First it’s worms, and now it’s insects?” he asked, not looking too pleased about it. He seemed calm at first glance, but now he was thinking he should’ve stepped in and taken care of this foe himself.

Only Soei retained his serenity.

“So you can maintain a channel with her in this dimension created by Lady Velgrynd? A very interesting skill there.”

He crossed his arms and remained silent, keeping a perceptive eye on Esprit. The cat was out of the bag with Soei, and he’d doubtless be sending Esprit on all kinds of covert missions from now on—but that’s a story for another time.

Carrera’s report continued.

“This man claimed that we’d never be able to beat Lady Velgrynd or that Kondo guy. He’s really dragging our names through the mud, I’d say. Apparently we have nothing but a pathetic slaughter ahead.”

Her tone was matter-of-fact, but that’s only because she was too busy trying to process her own emotions. Carrera could certainly dish it out, but taking it was another matter.

“Well,” Testarossa flatly stated, “you never know how a competition will turn out until you try.”

It was true that they couldn’t beat Velgrynd the first time around. But Testarossa wasn’t being a sore loser here. She meant every word of it. And her crimson eyes eloquently told everyone there that there’d be no defeat next time.

“By the way, Carrera, there’s something I don’t quite get. Why does he keep calling us insects and worms? Is he really that strong and stuff?”

“Ah-ha-ha! Of course not. And even if he was, I still wouldn’t stand for this.”

Carrera denied Ultima’s suggestion with a laugh. But her eyes weren’t smiling at all. They were filled with an air of danger, like they could explode at any minute.

“No need to show him mercy then, huh?”

“Absolutely not. That human’s gone too far with us.”

Ultima was enraged. Carrera agreed with her, holding back the urge to lash out right here.

“But it’s a shame. And here I wanted to put him in his place with my own two hands. Tell Agera that he doesn’t need to go easy on him. Once he’s done, maybe I will forgive this, then.”

“Of course. He insulted us, after all. He deserves to pay a penalty for it.”

Nobody was there to put a stop to this conversation. Ultima was boundlessly cruel, almost to the point of innocence. Testarossa’s cold smile was tinged with terror, the kind that struck fear in the hearts of anyone who saw it. And Carrera, meanwhile, was always cheerfully spreading destruction and emptiness across the world. Their merciful sides were long gone; they would never give comfort to the enemy.

To these girls, if giving them a painless death was mercy, then killing them as they suffered was forgiveness. It was death either way, but for them, it was a big difference.

Veyron, listening to his masters speak, spat out his own bile at Agera’s current enemy. His bosses, the Devil Lords, were never to be offended—but here this man was, ranting and raving at them. It inwardly troubled Veyron.

Oh, you foolish human being! I can only hope it is you alone who will pay for this foolishness…

That was all Veyron could wish for now. He knew just how terrifying Ultima could be, but more than that, the fear his former enemies Carrera and Testarossa filled him with was beyond description. The very fate of the world could depend on where they decided to point their anger.

I only hope we can quickly eliminate that fool and appease their wrath. Please, Agera! You’re our only hope!

Veyron, great demon as he was, wailed over how powerless he was in this situation. It was up to Agera, who wasn’t as powerful as he was, to handle this.

But regardless of the demons’ internal conflicts, Benimaru had an order to give.

“Carrera, can you relay our words from here to inside the Gate?”

“Um, I haven’t tried it before, but I think so…”

“Then tell them not to allow their foe to make any more offensive remarks.”

Carrera nodded, intervening in her channel with Esprit and wishing she had done so sooner.

(Esprit, can you hear me?)

(Gehh! Lady Carrera…?!)

(You owe me one for that “gehh.” But never mind that.)

Carrera grinned. Then she gave the order, the malice palpable in her thoughts.

(Tell Agera to tear him to pieces and crush his very soul.)

Carrera’s voice echoed in Esprit’s brain.

(This is the will of Sir Benimaru as well. Failure is not an option for you!)

Oh, great, lamented Esprit, now all the officers will know about my power. Carrera had forced herself into her mind, but there was nothing to be done about that. It wouldn’t be the first time her boss treated her unfairly like that. Consoling herself with that, Esprit called out to Agera.

“H-hey, Agera! Lady Carrera and the others are really mad right now, you know? We better get rid of this guy soon, or we might be in trouble, too.”

“I can’t help but wonder why Lady Carrera is aware of our situation in here—but let’s drop that. For now, we must resolve ourselves. Our masters have been insulted. It is time to give this man exactly what he deserves!”

“Wow, you’re really pissed off, too, aren’t you?”

Esprit let out a sigh. Agera was usually so calm, but now he was beyond indignant. There’d be no stopping him now—and, really, this was a good thing. If Agera was about to get serious, the right thing to do was sit back and watch him.

Garcia, failing to pick up on any of this, began shouting again.

“You guys are all weak as crap, aren’t you? Just give up and die already! And don’t worry—I’m sure your masters have all been taken care of already. Now you’ll get to serve them in the afterlife, just like you do now!”

This commentary was faithfully transmitted back to Carrera—and not just her, but everyone else, too, via Thought Communication.

(What a joke this man is.)

(What is Agera doing? Didn’t I just tell him to whip his ass? Are you kidding me?)

(Ugh, don’t embarrass us out there.)

(Good thing for him Shion wasn’t here. If she was, our whole operation would’ve been ruined just now.)

(Good point. Hey, if you’re having trouble in there, we can swap out—but either way, get moving!)

It was becoming a pretty lively scene. And indeed, if Shion were here to listen in on this, Agera’s wishes would have been summarily ignored—not that it’d trouble Esprit at all, but every demon has a certain pride they’d prefer not to see hurt. Or, really, it felt to Esprit like their reputation was going down the tubes every second.

This sucks, she thought, and she meant it. Garcia’s trashy talk and behavior made him sound like a wimp, but he really did have the strength to back it up. That’s what made him such a surprising handful.

Still, they were here to put up results. If they didn’t beat Garcia soon, they were bound to incur the wrath of their commanding officers. And still Agera was just continually evading Garcia, seemingly uninterested in any kind of offense. Agera would never lose unless mortally wounded—but if he couldn’t win, there wasn’t much point to any of this. Esprit would then have to step in with her magic, but that didn’t seem like a realistic strategy here; she had tried several approaches, but it looked like Garcia boasted high magic resistance.

“What’s the matter, huh? Is running away all you can do?!”

Now Garcia was in his element. But Agera showed no signs of a counterattack.

“Hey! Agera! We’re in real trouble here, okay? You have to hurry, or else Lady Carrera really will turn her fury upon us!”

The full fury of their boss would make even the powerful demons serving her quake in their boots. If it was directed at them, the sheer horror would be unbearable. Esprit, normally quite easygoing, was now in a real rush to get things moving. But Agera kept silent.

Zonda, meanwhile, was preparing tea a safe distance away, like he had nothing to do with this. Apparently he wanted to serve it to their commanders once they were out of here, but from Esprit’s point of view, it was beyond ridiculous.

“Hey! Zonda! I let you out of my sight for a moment, and now what’re you doing?!”

“Well, isn’t it obvious? Sir Agera is not injured at the moment, so I have little to do.”

“Don’t give me that crap! Why am I the only one feeling any pressure from our leaders here?!”

Esprit was all but lunging at him.

“That’s none of my business,” Zonda replied with a breezy smile.

I swear I’ll kill you, Esprit thought, gritting her teeth. Zonda was on the viscount level, Esprit a count, and yet he wasn’t the slightest bit afraid of her.

But I suppose you need to be that thick-skinned to serve Lady Ultima, don’t you?

So Esprit stopped thinking about it any further. If Zonda was useless, all she could do was beg Agera to do his best. He was emotionally agitated, no doubt about that, but there must be some reason why he refused to attack. If he was aiming for some sort of hole to strike, Esprit would just have to count on that happening sometime soon.

But then Agera shocked her out of nowhere.

“Esprit, I will tell you what I understand so far.”

“…What?”

“It seems, much to my chagrin, that it is impossible for me to defeat this man solely by myself.”

“Huhhh?!”

You’ve got to be screwing with me, Esprit thought. There was no way she could contact her bosses and simply say “sorry, we can’t.” Carrera was usually a playful, chill kind of demon, but rile her up, and things go out of hand quickly. In fact, isn’t she watching all this right now?

Before her bosses had a chance to rage over this, she had to confirm with Agera what he meant.

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s quite simple. As this man revs himself up, both his offensive and defensive capabilities receive a boost. I’ve just realized that no matter how often I hit him with my sword, I would never be able to kill him.”

The effects of Alternative, that ultimate enchantment—and in particular, its subskill Subjugation Conquest—were combining with the Legend-class Garcia had on to upgrade his defense to God-class level. Agera, realizing this, concluded that his blade could no longer slash through it.

“…Is that why my magic didn’t work, either?”

“Indeed. He is not at all nimble in his movements, but if I cannot wound him, then we are getting nowhere.”

What Agera said made sense. All Esprit could do was scowl and nod her agreement. And if they couldn’t win, that was the news she’d have to report to Carrera—a terrible shame upon the two of them. She had eyes, too, and just like Agera, she concluded they were inferior to their adversary in force.

Their skills couldn’t compete against ultimate enchantments. If they were True Dragons, even a simple attack could break through ultimate skills—that’s what having the most strength out of any spiritual life-form got you. Esprit and her cohorts were Demon Peers, a high-level type of spiritual life-form, but the power of their wills wasn’t enough to overcome ultimate skills. That was the reality, and until they could do something about that, technique alone was never going to give them victory.

“Haaaaa-ha-ha-ha! Now do you see the difference? Have you given up yet?”

Garcia laughed loudly across the arena. Not being able to land a spear strike was aggravating, but he wasn’t going to sweat it too much. His role here was mainly to stall the enemy, waiting until they exhausted themselves for a guaranteed victory. And maybe it wouldn’t take that long—his allies in the other Gates were wiping out their opponents right now, and they’d no doubt come sprinting in here to help out shortly.

So, in Garcia’s mind, he could enjoy this battle without feeling in a hurry. Esprit clicked her tongue at him, then lobbed a question at Agera, her voice serious.

“You knew this would have happened even if you were allowed to challenge that Kondo guy, didn’t you? Did you have no plan to win at all today?”

Agera grinned at this. “Of course I do. I have a secret plan, and I need your cooperation for it to work.”

Esprit had no right to refuse.

“…Very well. Tell it to me.”

It was Agera’s plan all along to rope Esprit in like this. She usually acted all aloof from the world, but she had her hedonistic side as well. If he simply asked her for a favor at the start of all this, she would never have said yes. That was Esprit for you—a demon who loved it when her friends came crying to her. Agera was well aware of this, so he decided to hold out until Esprit truly had no option left but to help him for a change.

Of course, if that attracted Lady Carrera’s ire, I might have been purged as well…

He was very pleased to win that bet. But before Esprit could change her mind, he needed to tell her about this secret plan.

“I am going to transform my will into a blade with which to strike him down. That is the only way.”

Agera had a feeling that nothing he could do against Garcia would ever affect him. Even if he aimed for a gap in his armor, the martial power that enveloped his entire body would keep him safe. When your defense reached God-class, appearances ceased to matter much—bare skin or not, you were still completely protected. In terms of agility alone, Agera easily surpassed Garcia, but he still couldn’t land a decisive blow on him—and that was the reason.

The only solution was for Agera to reach the same level. If he could master the art of listening to the voice of his sword, becoming one with it… Concentrating all his strength, Agera lent an ear to the blade he was born with. Then, he reached a conclusion.

“Hmm. So our will cannot pierce his armor?”

“Trust in me, Esprit. You may not be the equal of your master Lady Carrera, but you are still up to levels of talent that make you a true master. I know swords are not your cup of tea, but you still have a talent for them. Thus I believe you are worthy of my trust.”

“Huh? What are you talking—?”

“Place your hand on my back. I will take care of the rest.”

Esprit was puzzled. Little of what Agera said made sense. But in the end, she decided to believe in him.

The swordsman was standing up straight as Esprit touched his back as she was told. Garcia was on the scene, already ridiculing them.

“Oh, finally given up, have you? Well, I’ll make it easy for you right now, okay? I’m sure your master, the demon lord Rimuru, has met his match by Lady Velgrynd’s hand by now. A pitiful end for a pitiful little monster, but at least now you can guide him to the afterlife!”

“What?”

Here was one statement that was absolutely unforgivable.

“You even think Sir Rimuru, our god, is a lowly monster?”

“And as if that weren’t enough, you believe he is dead by now?!”

The officers outside the Gate, hearing this through Esprit, looked visibly different now. But even before that, Agera—and Esprit, too—had run out of patience.

(All right. I appreciate you retaining your cool when I was insulted earlier, but if you’re going to stay calm after that, you’re no demons at all! I hereby give you permission to kill him now!!)

Carrera didn’t need to give the order. The two of them intended to do just that.

“Use my powers well, Esprit!”

“I don’t know what this is all about, but all right. I’m gonna kill that bastard!”

The pair let their fury move them. Throwing his full consciousness into his blade, Agera spoke to it directly—and that awakened a new power in him.

Let me answer your wish. Sharpen your mind, and make yourself into a blade.

He thought he could hear a beautiful voice saying that, but he wasn’t completely sure about it. Regardless, the power was clearly in Agera’s hands now.

“My body is a blade—an immortal blade, destroying my enemies!”

And as Agera lodged the shout, a golden sword was in Esprit’s hand. This was the ultimate gift Blade Transform, the power Agera had just acquired. It turned him into a sword, its level adding itself to that of the wielder. If the holder of this blade was skilled enough, the resulting effects were almost immeasurable.

Esprit drew the sword in a natural, fluid motion. Pulled out of its golden scabbard, it shone with a radiant platinum sheen. A small bouquet of eight flower petals fluttered behind the blade as it flew in the air. This was the innermost art of sword drawing, as taught by the Oboro Shinmei-ryu. Its name: Multilayered Blossom Flash.

“Are you dead, you piece of trash?”

“Huh? …Wha?”

Garcia didn’t see anything. Nor could he comprehend anything. What just happened? His prey, focused entirely on defense up to now, seemed to disappear in a blinding flash of light. He understood that Agera had turned into a sword, but there was no longer any time to wonder why—he’d be killed if he pondered the question.

He was confident in his own defenses. In the face of their ultimate power, no attack could ever succeed. They would need another ultimate power like his to break it, and he couldn’t sense anything like that from the demons right now. So, feeling a bit relieved, he took his time and worked them into a corner.

Then the situation changed in the blink of an eye. Garcia’s armor was torn apart like thin paper, and his body was sliced up into tiny pieces. In a single instant, he had been slashed no less than eight times, and without any further time to think, his life was ended.

Or maybe he did have time to think. In Esprit’s hand now was a small ball of crimson—the embodiment of his soul.

“Hmm. This one’s red, huh? Certainly fits him,” Esprit muttered.

“You think? Because I think he was merely an upstart who didn’t know his place,” Agera replied as he reverted to his regular form. He glared dolefully at the red ball. “No warrior will remain silent when his master is insulted, you fool! But… Ah, I should have been warning my lord about this, but instead I let myself be incensed at the words of a small man…”

Esprit offered him some rare words of consolation.

“Now, now, what could you do? He was insulting Sir Rimuru himself. Even Lady Carrera gave her permission. Why be so hard on yourself?”

“Yes… Well, let’s leave it at that, shall we?”

Agera resolved within himself to take this as a lesson and grow from it. He looked toward Esprit, a little envious of her.

Now, clearly, Agera had acquired a new ability. And he remembered who he was before he was born—living as one who trained to master the blade. Not all of his memories came back to him, but the mastery he had gained then was now back inside his body. Regained…or perhaps “recreated” was the more correct term.

It was the art of Oboro, the way of dispelling demons. When he was still human, Agera believed his soul resided in his sword. Was that why transforming into one brought back those memories? And only then did he realize why he now took the form of a samurai. He was one, long ago, before he was reincarnated as a demon in this world.

My name was Byakuya Araki, then? Hmm. I suppose that if I went around using the name of a dead man, it’d do nothing but confuse everyone…

The visage of Hakuro flashed through his mind. All his disciples grew into great swordsmen, taking on the newly invented style known as Oboro-ryu, or Crestwater. Agera himself had changed the name to that because he felt that “Shinmei-ryu,” or “heart-life” style, struck too conciliatory a tone for an anti-monster school. It was a funny memory to recall right now.

Heh-heh-heh… But I suppose I’ve come around on Shinmei since Sir Rimuru named me, haven’t I? No need for me to step in, then.

He had united with an ogre in this world, and a child was born to them—a girl who, in turn, gave them a grandchild. That was Hakuro, and now this world was full of people Hakuro had raised and trained. Rimuru, the master of Agera, was the loftiest of them all, and Hakuro could take all the credit for training him.

All of Agera’s honed, polished skills were being safely passed on, something he was truly elated to see, and it’d be boorish of Byakuya Araki to suddenly show up now. So he changed his focus. He no longer had any interest in the trash he just killed. So he turned on his heel and headed back to Carrera, his current master.