What is this Dimensional Chat???

Kuoh Academy

Kuoh, Japan

Kazuma stood at the center of a stunned crowd, his hands glowing with the radiant energy of Cosmos Power borrowed from Satria. The wounds of the injured mended before their eyes, flesh knitting together as if time itself reversed. Gasps of awe and murmurs of reverence filled the air—he looked less like a man and more like a divine healer.

"So... Koneko is no longer part of my peerage?" Rias Gremory's voice trembled with frustration. "Can't we do anything about this?"

Kazuma wiped the sweat from his brow, casting a side glance at the source of his troubles—Satria. That guy was a menace, and now, thanks to him, this situation has spiraled beyond his control.

"Y-Yeah… To save her, I had to connect her soul to Shin," Kazuma admitted reluctantly with random bullshit. "There was no other way."

"Onii-chan?!" Rias turned desperately to her brother. "Do something!"

Sirzechs Lucifer, the feared Maou, held up a hand, his expression firm but understanding. "Rias… Stop throwing tantrums at our savior. If this is necessary, then so be it."

Rias clenched her fists, unwilling to accept it, but she knew there was no changing fate.

"Don't worry, Buchou," Koneko spoke up, her voice even. "Even if I'm no longer in your peerage… I'm still your friend."

There was something ominous in the way she said it. Her eyes darkened slightly as she turned toward Satria.

"Thanks... for... your... help... Senpai~"

Satria felt a shiver run down his spine, he simply whistled, feigning innocence.

"True!" Satria declared. "No need to worry. I'll protect her from anything that tries to harm her!"

Issei clenched his fists, frustration bubbling beneath his words. "I trust you, Shin-san… But damn it, if only I were stronger—! That Black Flash...!"

Far from the city, in the realm of the Shinto Pantheon, an unnatural disturbance rippled through the divine senses of the gods.

Amaterasu, the radiant Goddess of the Sun, narrowed her golden eyes. "Something has shaken the balance…"

Beside her, Susanoo, the God of Storms, gripped his blade, his warrior instincts screaming of an impending threat. "This energy… It is neither wholly divine nor demonic."

Yasaka, the Kyoto Youkai Faction's leader, tensed as she observed the changes in the spiritual currents. "It's coming from Kuoh…"

Without hesitation, the gods and their retainers descended upon the battlefield.

When they arrived at the ruined meeting grounds, the sight before them made even deities falter.

Michael, the great Archangel, lay wings broken, his once-divine light dimming.

Azazel, the fallen Governor-General, was barely conscious, his form battered and weary.

And the feared Maou, Sirzechs and Serafall, struggled to even rise.

A heavy silence fell upon the gathering as the gods took in the devastation.

Susanoo's grip tightened on his sword. "Who… could have done this?"

Amaterasu's gaze flickered toward the epicenter of the destruction. "We are about to find out."

A tense silence hung over the ruins of the battlefield as divine figures descended upon Kuoh. The Shinto Pantheon and the Yokai Faction stood before the remnants of what was supposed to be a historic peace conference.

A lowly devil minion, still shaken from the devastation, stepped forward and barked at the newcomers.

"Who are you? Name your business!"

A sharp smack landed on the back of his head as his superior scowled at him.

"Bow your head, fool!" the superior growled. "They are representatives of the Shinto Pantheon and the Yokai Faction—Amaterasu-sama, Susanoo-sama, and Yasaka-sama. Show some respect!"

Amaterasu's presence was radiant yet commanding, the very air shifting under the weight of her authority. Her golden gaze swept across the fallen leaders before she spoke, her voice firm yet compassionate.

"Michael, Azazel, Sirzechs, Serafall—what happened here?" she asked, her tone demanding truth. "What force did this to you, and why did it come to disrupt the peace conference?"

Michael, still struggling to catch his breath, lifted his weary gaze toward the goddess. His once-brilliant wings now bore scorch marks, their light dimmed.

"A... being from beyond our understanding," he murmured. "Its power… I've never felt anything like it. Not even in the Great War. It called itself… a Black Flash."

Susanoo took a step forward, his sword still unsheathed but lowered. His eyes darkened with recognition.

"A Black Flash?" he muttered. "I've heard of him. That bastard has been wreaking havoc in my territory—disrupting the underworld, toppling entire syndicates. But for him to strike here… Did he come to declare war?"

His gaze locked onto Michael's, demanding an answer. "Speak. The fate of more than your realms rests upon this knowledge."

Yasaka, standing gracefully beside him, folded her arms. She had also heard the whispers—the Bogeyman that haunted Japan's criminal underworld. Yet, no matter his reasons, his actions today could not be ignored.

Azazel clenched his jaw, wincing as he forced himself to his feet despite his wounds. "No," he muttered. "It didn't seem like it sought war—at least, not yet. It mocked us."

Sirzechs, usually calm and composed, could not fully mask the frustration in his voice.

"It was a warning," he said grimly. "A demonstration. It wanted to show us that even united, we are vulnerable. It struck us down with power beyond anything in this world… and then vanished, as if it was all just a game to it."

A cold wind blew through the ruins, carrying the weight of his words.

Amaterasu narrowed her eyes, her divine radiance intensifying. "Did it say where it came from? Anything that could help us understand this new threat?"

Serafall, usually playful, had a rare look of seriousness. She shook her head.

"Nothing," she said. "Only the fake name it gave. It spoke as if our battles, our ancient rivalries—our very existence—meant nothing to it."

Yasaka exhaled slowly, her golden eyes gleaming with quiet contemplation.

"A being that transcends even the understanding of gods, yet chooses now to reveal itself," she murmured. "It could be testing us—probing the defenses of this world for reasons we cannot yet fathom."

A heavy silence fell over them as the full weight of her words sank in.

Whatever this Black Flash was, it had already shaken the foundations of the supernatural world.

"Ara~ look who we have here," a melodic voice rang through the air, laced with teasing familiarity. "The little fox cub has grown into such a mature and beautiful woman. If Tamamo-san were alive to see her daughter now, she would be so proud of the great leader you've become."

Yasaka's breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened as she took in the figure before her. "Kiyohime-sama…?" she whispered, disbelief threading through her voice.

The woman standing before her—Kiyohime—was a ghost from the past, a legend long thought lost to time. Her long, silken white hair swayed gently in the morning breeze, her serene smile carrying the weight of years unseen.

"You disappeared from this world long ago," Yasaka continued, voice steadier now, though no less wary. "I thought you had withdrawn into the depths of your mountain, hiding from both the supernatural and human affairs. Why now? Why reveal yourself again after all this time?"

Kiyohime's smile softened, her head tilting ever so slightly. "Ah, Yasaka… you were always perceptive," she mused, a wistful note in her tone—perhaps even a trace of regret. "It is true. I chose seclusion for many years. The desires of this world… fleeting as they are, have brought me nothing but sorrow."

"And yet, here you are," Amaterasu interjected, her golden gaze piercing. "You speak as if nothing has changed, yet you emerge from the shadows you so carefully hid in. Who are they?" She gestured toward the unfamiliar figures with Kiyohime. "You are even here with the strangers I didn't recognize." A note of curiosity tinged her voice. "This… is unlike you, Kiyohime."

Kiyohime hesitated, as if considering her response.

"About that..."

Before she could speak, Satria—completely oblivious to the weight of the conversation—puffed out his chest and beamed at the assembled gods.

"Woo! My wife is famous!" he declared proudly, practically glowing with excitement. "I knew she was amazing, but to think she's such a big deal in this world?! It's like I married a celebrity!"

Silence.

Yasaka blinked. Once. Twice.

"Wife?" she repeated, her tone caught between disbelief and outright confusion. She turned to Kiyohime, her expression demanding answers. "You're... married?!"

Then, her gaze flicked back to Satria, as if trying to make sense of the absolute enigma that just declared himself. "You… What's your name?"

Satria's eyes sparkled with excitement. He grinned, dramatically pulling Kiyohime into an overly theatrical embrace. She stiffened immediately, her expression flashing between embarrassment and exasperation.

"Sure~!" Satria boomed. "Let me tell you something about the most incredible husband of Kiyohime!"

Kiyohime visibly winced.

"My name is—Sat... I mean, Shin! The Legend of Legends!" He struck an exaggerated pose. "The one and only capable of driving away the menace known as Black Flash—with the help of Lord Kazuma and my Nakama!" His grin widened. "You'd all better remember my name because I am destined for Greatness!"

Yasaka stared.

Amaterasu's carefully maintained divine composure cracked for just a moment. A smirk tugged at the corners of her lips.

Meanwhile, not far away…

"I don't know him. I don't know him."

Garou, Crom, and Kazuma all took a synchronized step back, wanting absolutely nothing to do with the spectacle. They refused to be labeled as weirdos by association.

Ravel, watching the scene unfold, leaned over to Emilia, a mix of amusement and mild concern in her expression. "Has he… always been like this?"

The Half-Elf, unfazed, simply smiled. "You'll get used to it, don't worry. He just loves his family too much."

Kiyohime's cheeks flushed, a rare display of emotion from the usually composed spirit. She let out a small sigh, pressing her fingers to her temple.

"Danna-sama, please," she muttered under her breath, shooting a sideways glance at Amaterasu and Yasaka, who were now visibly amused.

"You don't need to make such a spectacle of it…"

But Satria, undeterred, simply grinned wider.

Susanoo crossed his arms, barely hiding his impatience. His sharp eyes flickered with frustration as he turned to the gathered leaders.

"This isn't the time for riddles and jokes, aneki," he said, his voice edged with urgency. "We need to know whether we should prepare for an invasion or if this was merely a show of power."

Amaterasu sighed, casting a glance at the fallen leaders of the Biblical Faction.

"I know, I know. You're so naggy," she teased, but her expression softened as she regarded Michael, Azazel, Serafall, and Sirzechs.

"Your failure here is not your fault. You faced a force beyond what any of us have ever seen. But we must decide how to proceed. If this Black Flash returns, we need to be ready, united."

Her gaze shifted toward Satria, sharp with curiosity. "And as for you… You claim to have driven away the one who defeated them. You are no ordinary person. I have never seen or heard of you before. Who are you?"

Satria's eyes gleamed as he took a deep breath, raising his hand dramatically.

"Of course… Behold!" he declared, shifting the atmosphere into something more serious.

"We are the Shadow Garden! The Protectors of the Earthrealm, serving under the leadership of Kazuma-sama! We operate from the shadows, protecting this world from extraterrestrial threats that seek to bring chaos and destruction!"

Silence.

A slight breeze passed through.

Amaterasu blinked. Once. Twice.

"Shadow... Garden?" she repeated. "Never heard of it."

Michael, stepping forward, regarded Kazuma with admiration, his majestic wings unfurling behind him.

"He and his allies showed great courage in the face of such danger," the Archangel said, his voice filled with respect. "Lord Kazuma, your bravery and kindness have inspired everyone here."

Serafall nodded eagerly. "Yup! If it weren't for him, we'd all be dead! No wonder Shin-kun is so proud of him!"

From the crowd, a voice shouted:

"He did it! He saved us!"

A ripple of agreement spread through the survivors, their voices rising in unison. They had all seen Kazuma's heroism firsthand—even healing the wounded with Satria's power.

Susanoo narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms before cracking his knuckles.

"So… he's strong, huh?" He stretched dramatically, his sheer presence exuding raw battle-hardened energy. "Tell me, are you a God?"

Kazuma tensed.

"You… Fight me. Now!"

Before Kazuma could panic, Amaterasu shot her brother a glare.

"Susanoo!" she snapped. "This is not the time!"

The Lord of Gender Equality breathed a sigh of relief.

'Satria-sama, help me!'

'Sure~! Just repeat after me.'

Kazuma took a deep breath.

But before he could even process his next words, the air shifted.

A shockwave rippled through the air. Reality itself trembled.

A collective gasp spread through the gathered deities and faction leaders. The sky above them shimmered, warping as an ominous energy spilled through the cracks in the Dimensional Rift.

It was unlike anything they had ever encountered.

The very fabric of their world groaned in protest.

Amaterasu's breath hitched. She whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Did you feel that?"

Susanoo's playful demeanor vanished. His eyes darkened as he nodded gravely.

"This… This could shatter worlds."

"By the Elder Gods… Why only now?" Kazuma, following Satria's instruction, steeled himself.

"Do you… know something, Lord Kazuma?" Sirzechs demanded, his usual composure cracking.

Kazuma hesitated for only a moment before answering.

"Y-Yes…" he said, deliberately dramatic. "Something… is fighting Ophis in the Dimensional Rift."

A stunned silence followed.

Azazel eyes widened. "O-Ophis? Who could possibly fight her?"

The words hung in the air, their weight suffocating.

A new mystery had emerged—one that would leave all who heard it confused and deeply worried for the future.

"Sorry... but we must take our leave. I must consult with the Elder Gods to handle this situation."

Behind him, Satria, ever the unseen orchestrator, subtly opened a portal, its swirling light casting eerie shadows on the ruined battlefield.

Kazuma turned to Sirzechs, meeting the Maou's weary yet resolute gaze.

"And… I will return your wife, safe and unharmed, once I locate where he sent her." His voice carried the weight of an unbreakable promise. "You have my word."

A flicker of hope crossed Sirzechs' tired face. With a solemn nod, he responded,

"Thank you, Lord Kazuma. Once again, I am in your debt."

Before anyone could react further, Kazuma and the entire Shadow Garden stepped through the portal, disappearing in a swirl of light.

And with that…

They vanished.

A heavy silence followed. The divine and demonic leaders stood frozen, the echoes of Kazuma's words still lingering in the air.

Then—

"This is bad."

A tense murmur spread through the ranks. The sheer gravity of the situation was sinking in.

"Who… exactly are these Elder Gods Lord Kazuma is going to consult?" Michael muttered, his celestial aura flickering with unease.

"Don't tell me… there are gods beyond even our knowledge?" Yasaka whispered, her golden eyes narrowing.

"No. That can't be possible… Right?" Azazel clenched his fists. The thought sent a chill down even his spine.

Amaterasu remained silent, her usual calm demeanor wavering.

"This is bad. Really, really bad," Susanoo finally admitted, his voice grave for once. "If such beings exist, and we were never aware of them—"

"Then we are blind."

The realization struck them like a thunderclap.

They had ruled, fought, and defended their realms for eons—yet now, a force beyond their understanding loomed over them.

And they had no idea what they were up against.

The questions left behind would haunt the pantheon and faction leaders for days to come…

But deep down, one terrifying truth settled in their hearts:

The world they thought they understood… was far bigger than they had ever imagined.

•

Jura Forest – Tempest

The moonlight hung high over the Jura Forest, casting dappled light through the towering trees. Yet, despite the cold of the night, unnatural rustling set the air on edge.

Benimaru's sharp eyes narrowed as his hand instinctively hovered over the hilt of his greatsword.

"Something's coming… and they're dangerous." His voice was low, edged with caution.

At his sides, Shuna and Shion, the pink-haired and purple-haired Ogres, exchanged brief glances before returning their attention toward the approaching figures.

The entire village had paused, their activities momentarily forgotten. Ogres, Goblin, and other denizens of Tempest gathered near the entrance, curiosity mingling with unease.

Then, as Rimuru l led Satria and his group through the village gates, the anticipation grew thicker.

At the forefront stood a tall, imposing man—his presence commanding without effort. His sun-kissed skin and hawk-like eyes exuded both wisdom and quiet power, while his short white hair swayed in the breeze. But what caught the villagers' attention most was his strange attire, a richly patterned fabric unlike anything they had ever seen. It was Batik from Indonesia.

But for all of Satria's casual demeanor, the real threat lay behind him.

The three women accompanying him—Fatalis, Ophis, and Great Red—radiated an intensity that made even the seasoned warriors stiffen.

Shuna took a hesitant step forward, her crimson eyes locked onto Rimuru.

"Rimuru-sama… who are they?"

Rimuru sighed, already anticipating the commotion that would come next.

"They're friends… so everyone, calm down." He turned to the gathered warriors, voice firm. "This is Satria, along with Fatalis, Ophis, and Red. They've come to help us against the Orc Army. I want everyone to get along."

Benimaru immediately stepped forward, eyes burning with determination.

"I see… Then let me test them." His hand tightened around his sword. "After my fight with Rimuru-sama, I've grown stronger. If they're truly your allies, I want to see their strength firsthand." His gaze settled on Satria. "You. The one with white hair. Fight me."

Satria groaned, rubbing his temples.

"Huh? Me? Nah, man, I'm not really a fighter." He waved him off lazily before gesturing toward the women behind him. "But these three? Oh, they're a different story. Fatalis, Ophis, Red—I choose you all! Show them the Power of our Friendship!"

Ophis tilted her head, her expression unreadable.

"If I miscalculate my strength… they could cease to exist. Are you sure?"

Satria grinned. "Of course! Just hold back a bit!"

But before Ophis could step forward, Fatalis cracked her knuckles—and in one swift motion, smacked Satria on the head.

SMACK!

"Who the hell are you calling a 'familiar,' huh?!" Fatalis scowled. "And 'Power of Friendship' my ass! How dare you send your wife into battle while you sit back?!"

Satria yelped, rubbing his head dramatically. "Aduh! That hurt!" He pouted, looking utterly betrayed. "Listen, you girls are different, okay?! I'm the one who needs protection! A man like me should be cherished and protected with love!"

A heavy silence followed.

Then—

Fatalis exhaled, exasperated. "This stupid brat… You're lucky you're adorable, or I swear—" She crossed her arms, clearly resigned to her fate. "I love you, but you're hopeless."

Shion whispered to Shuna. "Are they really strong? They act like idiots."

A sudden, fiery presence filled the air.

"Poor little Satria~"

A deep, sultry voice purred as Great Red stepped forward, her golden draconic eyes gleaming with amusement. Her scales shimmered, reflecting the sun's light like molten fire, creating an almost intimidating yet elegant aura.

"Let this big sister handle it." She smirked, stretching her arms as if shaking off rust.

Benimaru's grip on his sword tightened.

"You?"

Great Red's smirk widened.

"Don't worry, I'll make this quick."

Shion and Benimaru exchanged glances, both nodding in silent agreement.

"I'll join the challenge too," Shion said, hefting her massive sword onto her shoulder, the sheer weight of it making the ground tremble slightly beneath her.

From the sidelines, Rimuru sighed, crossing his arms as he watched the chaos unfold.

'I'm sure it must be exhausting dealing with him every day. Poor Fatalis-san…' he thought, glancing at the dragon woman, who looked half exasperated, half amused.

Around them, the villagers murmured excitedly, forming a wide circle in the square, eager to witness the spar. Rimuru s stepped forward, raising a hand to ensure everyone kept their distance.

"Remember, this is just a friendly match," he reminded, his voice carrying authority. "No need to go overboard."

Great Red's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile as she stepped forward to face Benimaru.

"Don't worry, Rimuru-chan," she purred, stretching her arms lazily. "I won't use my full strength. But… I won't go easy, either."

Satria, watching from the sidelines, leaned in slightly.

"Be careful, Great Red," he murmured, though a small, proud smile tugged at his lips. "I'll hold you to that promise. Please... win this fight."

Great Red's eyes gleamed with amusement as she turned her gaze toward him.

"I won't let you down, little one," she assured, the warmth in her tone betraying her usual aloofness.

Satria sighed dreamily, clasping his hands together.

"You should learn from her, Fatalis," he said with admiration. "She looks so dashing right now, like a hero straight out of a fairy tale."

Fatalis's expression darkened instantly.

"Oh?" She stepped closer, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. "If you want to be treated like a 'heroine,' I can arrange that. Maybe I should give you the same… 'treatment' that Valiana and Kiyohime did. How about it, my little puppy?"

A chill ran down Satria's spine.

"Eh... Jangan lah, Bun!" His entire demeanor changed as he threw his hands up in surrender. "It was just a joke! I promise I'll be a good boy!"

Benimaru and Shion took their positions, forming a two-pronged assault against Great Red.

Benimaru unsheathed his sword, the blade immediately igniting with crimson fire, while Shion's massive weapon hummed with raw magical energy, crackling like a storm ready to be unleashed.

Rimuru raised his hand.

"Begin!"

Benimaru struck first—fast, precise, and brutal. His flaming blade cut through the air in a sweeping arc, aimed at Great Red's midsection.

But before it could land—

She was gone.

A blur of red and gold sidestepped his strike with effortless grace, slipping inside his guard before he even realized what had happened.

WHAM!

With a casual palm strike to the chest, Great Red sent Benimaru flying.

His body smashed through several trees, their trunks splintering like toothpicks from the sheer force.

The crowd gasped.

Shion wasted no time.

She roared, bringing her massive blade down in a devastating overhead swing. The sheer weight of the attack made the very earth tremble.

But—

She hit nothing.

Great Red pivoted gracefully, dodging the strike by mere inches before closing the distance with terrifying speed.

A sharp, precise strike landed on Shion's shoulder.

Her arm immediately went numb.

From the sidelines, Shuna watched in shock.

"She's… so strong."

Her mind struggled to process what she was witnessing. This woman, who had seemed so casual, so relaxed, now moved like a force of nature—calm, precise, and utterly overwhelming.

A loud crash echoed as Benimaru dragged himself out from the wreckage of broken trees, eyes burning with frustration.

"You… what are you?" he growled, gripping his sword tightly.

Great Red's expression was unreadable, her usual smirk fading into something colder.

"A dragon in human skin."

She lifted a single hand toward the sky.

FWOOOOOOOM!

Flames erupted around her arm, swirling like a raging inferno. The sheer heat distorted the air, turning the battlefield into a fiery wasteland.

And then—

With a flick of her wrist—

A tidal wave of fire surged forward, engulfing both Benimaru and Shion in a roaring vortex of flames.

Rimuru's eyes widened.

'That's too much!'

Without hesitation, he stepped in, unleashing a torrent of his own black flames to intercept Great Red's attack.

The two fires clashed mid-air, spiraling against each other like two storms battling for dominance.

For a moment—the world stood still.

And then—Great Red smirked.

'Oh? He can hold my fire?' she thought, intrigued. 'He has potential. I'll give him that.'

With a final flare of heat, she let her flames dissipate, stepping back with an air of satisfaction.

Rimuru exhaled, lowering his hand.

"Okay, that's enough." He turned to the crowd. "The winner is… Great Red."

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the village as Benimaru and Shion collapsed, panting.

"Ugh… we lost again." Shion clenched her fists, rolling back to her feet. "We're still too weak!"

Rimuru approached, offering a small smile of encouragement.

"Don't worry about it. Learn from your mistakes and grow stronger."

His voice carried a warmth that eased the tension still lingering in the air.

Then, he turned toward the gathered villagers.

"All right, that's enough for now! Let's give our guests a proper welcome. They're here to help us prepare for the battles ahead."

The tension in the village square had barely settled when Satria stretched his arms with a lazy yawn.

"Alright, I'm starving. Let's eat something—hopefully, there's no pork on the menu." He turned, ready to leave the field.

But before he could take a single step—

"Wait, Rimuru-sama. I want to fight him."

The voice was calm yet firm, carrying the weight of unshakable experience.

A hush fell over the crowd as all eyes shifted toward the new arrival—Hakurou.

The elder swordsman stood tall, his piercing gaze fixed on Satria. Despite his aged appearance, his presence exuded an undeniable aura of strength, one that demanded respect.

Even Satria felt it—the sharpness of a blade that had been honed for centuries.

"Hakurou?" Benimaru blinked in surprise.

Satria raised an eyebrow, looking the old man up and down.

Then, he sighed.

"Oi... why are you looking at me like that? Let me be clear—I have no interest in men. Especially old men." He shot back with a cheeky grin.

The villagers snickered, but Hakurou remained unfazed.

"Don't try to fool me." His voice was calm, unwavering, yet his eyes gleamed with a flicker of curiosity. "You carry yourself like a warrior—one who has walked a long and dangerous path. I have lived long enough to recognize true strength when I see it, even when it is hidden behind a humble exterior. Your movements, your precision… They scream to me that you are no ordinary man."

Benimaru frowned, glancing between his master and Satria.

"Master, are you sure? He said he was a summoner, not a fighter."

Hakurou didn't break his gaze from Satria.

"Looks like you still have much to learn, Benimaru." He spoke with the patience of a seasoned mentor. "This man—despite his childish demeanor—is nothing like what he pretends to be. Do not let appearances deceive you."

Satria's faint smile returned, but this time, it held a trace of respect.

He could see it—the wisdom in Hakurou's stance, the discipline in his posture.

The old man wasn't just strong.

He was a true master of the blade.

"Very well, old man. I accept your challenge." Satria's voice lost its usual playfulness, replaced with something steadier, sharper. "Let's see what your years of experience can teach me."

The villagers erupted into excited whispers, their anticipation renewed.

Rimuru, sensing there was no stopping the fight, sighed and stepped back.

"Just… try not to destroy the village square, okay?" He said, half-joking.

Before the battle could begin, a voice cut through the air—

"Wait."

The crowd turned their heads, seeing Fatalis step forward, arms crossed, her golden eyes gleaming with a seriousness that sent a chill down everyone's spine.

Even Rimuru hesitated.

"Yes, Fatalis-san?" he asked cautiously.

Fatalis placed a hand on her hip, looking dead straight at Hakurou and Rimuru.

"Hm… How do I put this?" She tapped her chin. "I think you two should work together to deal with him."

A beat of silence.

Then—

"What?" Benimaru and Shion's jaws dropped.

"You mean Hakurou and I… together?" Rimuru blinked.

Fatalis nodded, her face deadly serious.

"Or else… one of you might die."

A wave of unease spread through the crowd.

"You're exaggerating, right?" Benimaru laughed nervously.

Ophis, who had remained silent this entire time, spoke without hesitation.

"No. She's right. If he fights seriously, neither of us can defeat him even when we are working together."

Her words sent shivers down everyone's spines.

Benimaru and Shion stared at Satria, their minds struggling to reconcile the lazy, carefree idiot with the deadly warrior Ophis and Fatalis were describing.

Then—

Great Red grinned, her tongue flicking over her lips in amusement.

"Really? Satria is that strong, Ophis?" She chuckled, stepping closer to the white-haired man. "Gosh, you're making me want him even more."

Her voice dripped with hunger, and Satria felt a shiver run down his spine.

"Oi, oi, what do you mean 'want'—?"

Great Red leaned in slightly, her scarlet eyes predatory.

"Devour, of course. In every possible way."

Satria paled.

Benimaru and Shion, who were already reeling from the revelations, snapped their heads toward him.

Satria sighed, rubbing the back of his head.

Just as the match was about to begin, Satria raised a hand.

"Wait."

Hakurou, already in position, raised an eyebrow.

Rimuru tilted his head. "What's wrong? Getting cold feet?"

Satria ignored the jab and instead turned toward Rimuru, his expression oddly serious.

"Before we start, I have a question."

Rimuru blinked. "Uh… sure? What is it?"

Satria crossed his arms.

"What's your dream? What kind of country are you trying to build here?"

The crowd quieted, sensing the shift in atmosphere. Even Hakurou, who had been fully focused on the fight, seemed intrigued by the sudden question.

Rimuru, caught off guard, hesitated for a moment before answering.

"Well… I want to create a country where everyone, no matter what race they are, can get along and live in peace." He smiled. "Like in my home country!"

Satria froze.

Then he slowly raised a hand to his face.

Facepalm.

'Oh no.'

He exhaled sharply, his mind racing.

'Okay. I'm sure this little slime has no idea how politics work and is only surviving thanks to plot armor.'

His eye twitched.

'Did he seriously just say that? "Like in my home country"?'

'Does this guy not know how xenophobic Japan is?!'

'Saying "there's no discrimination in Japan" is like saying there's no war in Ba Sing Se.'

He fought the urge to scream.

'Where exactly does "everyone living peacefully together" exist? Even humans of the same race can't do that, let alone different species! How does he think this whole co-existence thing will work? Through the power of friendship?!'

Satria sighed, forcing a smile.

"Wow! That's a brilliant dream." He clapped his hands slowly. "Truly inspiring."

Rimuru beamed. "Right? I—"

Satria leaned in slightly, his smile sharp as a blade.

"So… how exactly do you plan to achieve that?"

Rimuru blinked, then scratched the back of his head.

"Well, you know… by treating everyone fairly, making good policies, and helping them understand each other!"

Satria's head throbbed.

'Oh, dear gods, he really is naïve.'

He rubbed his temples, trying to suppress the migraine forming.

'This dude is leading a nation, and he doesn't even understand how fragile peace is.'

Fatalis, watching from the sidelines, smirked. "You're holding back a rant, aren't you?"

Satria took a deep breath.

"I'm trying."

Satria's expression remained neutral, but his voice carried a sharp edge.

"Okay, let's say you do manage to build this dream nation of yours." He gestured to the village around them. "A country where every race gets along. Sounds nice."

Rimuru nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly! If people just understand each other—"

Satria cut him off.

"Now imagine… someone attacks your country."

The air shifted.

Rimuru's smile faltered.

Satria's eyes narrowed. "Would you still think the same way? Would you still believe in coexistence if your people were slaughtered?"

A heavy silence followed.

The crowd, once murmuring with excitement, now stood frozen. Benimaru clenched his fists. Shuna and Shion glanced at each other, their faces uncertain. Even Hakurou, always calm, watched with keen interest.

Rimuru hesitated. "I…"

Satria stepped closer, not letting up.

"What if you can't keep your promises?" His voice was softer now, but no less intense. "What if your people—those who trust you—begin to suffer? What if they lose faith in you? What if they rebel?"

Rimuru's fists tightened.

Satria continued, his tone unwavering.

"What would you do as a leader then? Would you cling to your ideals, or would you fight to protect your people, even if it meant blood on your hands?"

Rimuru opened his mouth—but no words came.

Satria studied his face.

"How are you going to bridge these differences? How will you keep peace when history shows that peace never lasts?" He tilted his head. "I want to know."

The weight of the question hung over them like a storm.

For the first time, Rimuru had no answer.

"Enough! Let's defeat him together, Rimuru-sama. Don't listen to this stranger—believe in yourself!"

"Y-Yes."

Hakurou moved first, his katana a blur of silver light as he closed the distance with blinding speed. His strikes were precise, each one aimed at a vital point. But Satria flowed like water, redirecting the blade's arc with open-handed parries, each movement effortless.

Before Hakurou could press further, Rimuru attacked.

A barrage of Water Blades sliced through the air, their edges honed to cut steel. Satria barely glanced at them before vanishing.

Then—

"You're dead."

Rimuru's eyes widened.

Satria's spear hand was already near his chest, poised to strike—but he wasn't attacking, only showing him how easily he could have ended it.

Rimuru reacted fast, shifting his form and conjuring Black Flames to consume the battlefield. The dark fire roared, swallowing everything in its path.

Satria's eyes gleamed. With a sudden burst of speed, he soared above the flames, twisting midair like a shadow slipping between cracks. Golden sparks crackled across his body.

"You're both slower than I expected." His voice was calm—almost bored.

Hakurou narrowed his eyes. "We're not done yet!"

With a sharp breath, the old swordsman unleashed his Flash Strike, his body vanishing in a blur.

Satria disappeared.

A ghostly whisper brushed against Hakurou's ear.

"You think you can challenge me?"

Satria's voice was everywhere.

"You don't understand time."

Before Hakurou could react, a fist drove into his chest. A shockwave rippled through his body, forcing him back several feet. He gasped, clutching his ribs.

Satria was gone again.

Another whisper, right behind him.

"I could have killed you a thousand times already, old man. But where's the fun in that?"

A second blow struck Hakurou's back, sending him to his knees.

"Ugh...! How—"

Hakurou's mind reeled. He had never felt such helplessness.

"Where is he?!" Rimuru's voice trembled. "Great Sage, what do I do?!"

[Analyzing… Suggestion: Utilize Sticky Steel Thread to bind the target when—]

[ERROR. SYSTEM INTERFERENCE DETECTED]

Rimuru's blood ran cold.

[Critical Disruption in Thought Acceleration.

Auto-Battle Functions… Disabled]

A new voice invaded his mind, drowning out the Great Sage.

"That's not going to help you now, Rimuru."

Satria's voice slithered into his very mind.

Rimuru's breath caught.

"No way… Did he just—?!"

Satria smirked.

"Did you really think that little AI cheat could save you? Let's see what you can do without someone whispering answers in your ear."

Rimuru froze.

It felt like something had reached into his very soul, twisting it, bending it.

His connection to Great Sage—the one thing that had always guided him, always gave him answers—

Gone.

Like a computer riddled with a virus, his mind glitched. His vision blurred for a second, his thoughts no longer his own.

[Reconnecting… Reconnecting…]

[Unable to Connect]

"No way..." His breath came shallow.

"Great Sage...?! What... what is he?"

For the first time since being reborn, Rimuru felt s felt something he had never truly experienced before.

Fear.

Terror.

The realization that, in this moment—He was completely alone.

Satria's stance shifted.

His movements changed—not just fast, but unreadable.

His style was not merely a method of combat—it was a dance with death.

He vanished again.

Then—

"Rimuru-sama, be ca—GAH!"

Hakurou barely registered what happened before a hand gripped his throat.

A sharp twist—he was on the ground.

"One down. One to go."

"Hakurou!!"

Rimuru barely had time to react before Satria grabbed him by the collar, lifting him effortlessly.

Rimuru struggled—but it was useless.

Satria's hand phased into his chest, vibrating at an unnatural frequency.

"You feel that, Rimuru?"

A cold shiver ran through him.

"I could crush your soul right now."

Rimuru's vision blurred.

"Or I could vibrate just a bit faster and tear you apart, atom by atom."

He tightened his grip.

"But I want you to remember this feeling."

Rimuru trembled.

"No matter where you run. No matter how far you hide. No matter how hard you fight..." Satria leaned in. "There's always someone faster. Someone stronger. Someone who doesn't need 'coexistence' to survive."

The world seemed to shrink around Rimuru.

For the first time, he understood what it meant to be truly powerless.

Then—

SMACK!

Satria's head snapped to the side.

He blinked.

"Aduh! Why you hit me again, Bun?!"

Fatalis stood there, her expression dangerous.

"You've gone too far!" she snapped. "Look at what you've done!"

Satria followed her gaze—

Rimuru was trembling, eyes filled with tears.

The villagers—stunned in horror.

Even Benimaru and Shion, warriors who had seen countless battles, looked at Satria like he was a monster.

Fatalis sighed, rubbing her temples. "You always do this. Every. Single. Time."

"But I was just—"

"No."

Satria pouted. "Okay, okay. I'll be gentler next time."

"There won't be a next time!"

She crossed her arms.

"Now go apologize."

"Perhaps you're right." His voice carried a warm gentleness. "I pushed you too hard… I'm sorry, Rimuru. I only wanted you to understand that kindness alone isn't enough to protect those you love."

Rimuru raised his head, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

"I am a leader… yet I have failed." His small hands clenched into fists, his body trembling with the weight of his emotions. "I thought I was strong enough… But standing before you, I realize how powerless I truly am."

Satria knelt down, his movements slow, deliberate. He lifted Rimuru's chin, guiding his gaze back to him.

"Strength isn't just about battles won or enemies defeated, Rimuru." His voice was steady, filled with quiet wisdom. "True strength is in the heart that refuses to give up, even when the odds seem impossible."

He extended his arms.

"Come here."

Rimuru hesitated. He wasn't used to seeking comfort—he was the one who reassured others. Yet, something in Satria's presence called to him.

Slowly, the blue slime leaned into him.

Satria's arms wrapped around Rimuru, his embrace both firm and gentle, his cosmic energy humming like a quiet storm—not one of destruction, but of unwavering protection.

"Your heart is strong, Rimuru," Satria murmured, his voice vibrating through him like a steady pulse. "And I believe in you. I see the strength you don't yet see in yourself."

Rimuru felt the warmth of his words seep into him, the crushing weight on his shoulders easing. The doubt, the fear, the helplessness—they didn't disappear, but they no longer consumed him.

His courage stirred, like an ember flickering to life.

A faint blush dusted Rimuru's cheeks.

This warmth, this unwavering presence beside him—he had never known such a thing before. It was unexpected, unfamiliar... and yet, he didn't want to pull away.

"Thank you, Satria." His voice was barely above a whisper, his blue eyes shining with gratitude—and something deeper, something he couldn't quite name.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet Satria's gaze.

"You've given me hope again... and maybe something more."

A few feet away, Fatalis wiped the sweat off her brow.

'Did he forget that Rimuru is a guy?! And Rimuru... is subconsciously accepting it?! My husband's charm is really too dangerous!'

Meanwhile, Great Red clutched her chest dramatically.

"Ophis, it's so beautiful... We must support them!"

Ophis blinked, tilting her head. "Hmph… This blue slime may become something more in the future. I wouldn't mind taking it in."

Great Red grinned. "Then we're in agreement! Let's make sure they get closer."

A Moment That Transcends Time. The scene before them was unlike anything the villagers had ever witnessed.

Satria—the one who had effortlessly crushed their strongest warriors, who had instilled fear into their very souls—

Now held their leader with a tenderness that was almost sacred.

The air around them felt lighter.

The shadows of doubt that had loomed seemed to fade.

A murmur spread among the villagers, a spark of hope kindling in their hearts.

For the first time, they saw not just Satria's overwhelming power, but the bond that had begun to form between him and their leader.

And in that bond, they saw the promise of a future where strength and compassion could coexist.

To be continued...