The serene chamber of Rimuru was once again filled with the upper echelon the day after Goku, Vegeta, and Whis' exploration, now only Goku and Vegeta were absent while Whis was present, they had reconvened.
"Anyway, back to the tournament. I was thinking we make this a real spectacle—not just fights, but a full festival atmosphere. Food stalls, cultural performances from every nation in the federation, maybe even some merchant pavilions showcasing new magical tech. It'll give the citizens something to celebrate while we handle the heavier stuff behind the scenes."
Beerus flicked an ear, already half-distracted by the idea of unlimited delicacies. "The more you speak of your delicacies the more I want of it. None of that weak mortal slop."
Rimuru grinned. "How about we test it before anyone else does?"
Shion immediately leaned forward next to Rimuru with beaming eyes, making his sweat drop but nod relentantly.
"How about Shion and the head chef cook separate meals," Rimuru managed, he knew Shions food tasted divine now, but it's appearance would make the Death Guard proud.
About an hour passed as they discussed the details, while eating snacks and drinking wine.
Before Rimuru could continue further on the preparations, another soft knock echoed through the chamber—this one far more polite and measured than the previous interruption. The same senior official from Rigurd's staff entered, bowing even deeper than before, his face still carrying traces of pallor from Beerus's previous display.
"Lord Rimuru… forgive me once more. Count Regulius of the Holy Empire requests a private word with you—alone, if possible. He claims the matter is… delicate, regarding potential border tensions and a personal apology for the earlier… incident. He is waiting in the smaller antechamber adjacent to this one."
Rimuru raised an eyebrow, exchanging a quick glance with Benimaru and Diablo. The count had clearly recovered just enough courage to try salvaging the situation rather than fleeing back to his empire with his tail between his legs.
"Hmm… alone, huh?" Rimuru mused, tapping a finger against his chin. "Tell him I'll see him briefly. But make it clear my guests come first. Five minutes, no more."
The official bowed and withdrew. Rimuru turned to the group with an apologetic smile. "Sorry about this. Politics never sleeps. I'll handle it quickly and be right back. Feel free to discuss tournament details among yourselves—Whis, Zairis, maybe you two can sketch out some barrier ideas while I'm gone?"
As Rimuru stood and slipped out through a side door leading to the antechamber, the atmosphere in the main chamber shifted subtly. Conversations resumed in lower tones—mostly light planning for the event—but outside, in the grand corridors of the central palace, a different scene was unfolding.
Count Regulius von Hohenberg stood with rigid poise in the smaller, more formal antechamber, his freshly changed robes of deep imperial crimson immaculate once more, every fold and golden embroidery perfectly in place. The faint scent of expensive cologne and starched fabric replaced yesterday's stench of fear. His two personal guards flanked him at precise attention, their faces carefully blank, though faint shadows under their eyes betrayed a sleepless night.
The count's sharp features — high cheekbones, a neatly trimmed silver-streaked beard, and piercing gray eyes that usually commanded instant deference — were now set in a mask of cool, composed dignity. Only the slightest tightness at the corners of his mouth and the rigid set of his shoulders revealed the lingering sting of yesterday's humiliation… and the burning resolve it had forged.
He had spent the night in the luxurious guest quarters assigned to the Holy Empire delegation, quietly seething while his aides whispered frantic reports. By morning, the raw terror had been buried beneath layers of imperial pride and cold calculation. The God of Destruction's aura had been… enlightening. Terrifying, yes, but also an opportunity. The tremors that had shaken their world months ago, the ones the Empire had feared were the harbinger of some devouring ancient evil, now seemed connected to these impossibly powerful visitors in ways that could be leveraged.
Regulius straightened his posture as the side door finally opened and Rimuru Tempest entered alone, wearing that same deceptively approachable smile.
He had come to Tempest expecting the respect due to a representative of the Holy Empire when dealing with a powerful — albeit monstrous — federation. A nation that had risen rapidly, yes, but one that should still understand the proper order of things. Instead, he had been brought to his knees by the casual displeasure of a being whose mere presence made existence itself feel optional. He had lost control of his body in front of his own subordinates, then been coldly reminded of his place by that damnable slime lord with a single authoritative glance. The insult burned hotter than any magical flame.
Yet here he was, swallowing what remained of his pride.
Because the orders from the Holy Empire's upper echelons had been crystal clear: secure favorable trade terms, probe for weaknesses in Tempest's defenses, and—most importantly—gather intelligence on these mysterious "VVIP guests" who had arrived with such overwhelming power. The Emperor himself had taken personal interest after the first reports.
Regulius straightened his posture as the side door opened and Rimuru Tempest entered, alone, wearing that deceptively friendly smile.
The side door opened. Rimuru Tempest stepped in alone, his expression polite but carrying the subtle weight of someone who had far more important matters waiting.
"Count Regulius," Rimuru greeted evenly. "You wanted a private word?"
The count offered a stiff, shallow bow, voice carefully controlled despite the tremor he couldn't quite suppress.
"Lord Rimuru… I must apologize for the earlier intrusion. My zeal for the Empire's interests clouded my better judgment." He straightened, eyes flicking once toward the closed door behind Rimuru before continuing in a low, conspiratorial tone.
"However, I bring urgent tidings that may interest you greatly."
He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice further.
"There are… rumors stirring in the western human nations—whispers that have now reached even the innermost circles of the Holy Empire. Not long ago, the very fabric of our world trembled. Violent magical disruptions, earthquakes that split the earth without warning, skies that bled unnatural colors for hours. Entire mage towers reported their spells unraveling mid-cast, sacred artifacts cracking as if the gods themselves had abandoned us. It felt… as though something vast and hungry had turned its gaze upon our world. Something that devours not just land or armies, but the very concept of divinity itself."
Regulius's gaze sharpened, a flicker of genuine fear mixing with calculated opportunism.
"My sources suggest this ancient power may soon direct its attention toward the extraordinarily powerful entities now residing in your capital. If the Holy Empire and Tempest were to form a closer… understanding—sharing intelligence, perhaps certain territorial and trade concessions—we could stand together against whatever is coming. After all, even you must recognize that no single nation, no matter how mighty, can face a threat of this magnitude alone."
He let the words hang, confident that the memory of those world-shaking tremors—still fresh in every nation's collective memory—would make the slime lord more amenable to negotiation.
Rimuru listened in silence, his expression unchanging at first. Inside his mind, however, Raphael's calm voice chimed instantly.
«Analysis complete, Master. The Count is referring to the Cycle Shift tremors. When the foundational essence of this universe vanished, I detected the impending collapse approximately 0.7 seconds before the first wave struck. You redirected a significant portion of your own divine authority to substitute as the new universal sustainer. The tremors still propagated, but your intervention prevented total unraveling. No one in this world—not even your upper echelon—has been informed of this action.»
Rimuru let out a slow, quiet sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose for a moment. The weight of carrying an entire universe's foundation in secret—while people below bickered about trade routes—was heavier than he usually let show.
"Count Regulius," he said at last, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable finality. "You and your Empire have made a significant error in judgment."
The count's eyebrows rose slightly, a flash of offense warring with curiosity on his sharp features.
"What you felt during those tremors… that wasn't some ancient devouring entity setting its sights on our world. Not in the way you imagine, at least." Rimuru's golden eyes met the count's gray ones directly, and for a moment, the slime's gaze seemed impossibly old. "The scale is so much larger than you or any human nation can comprehend. You believe you are players on the board, making moves, sensing a rival piece approaching from the shadows. You fail to realize the board itself nearly ceased to exist."
He paused, letting the heavy silence stretch.
"That 'hungry power' you're so afraid of isn't out there preparing to invade. In a very real sense… it's already here, quietly keeping the rules of the game intact so that everyone can still play. You felt the aftershocks of a cosmic cycle ending, a foundation crumbling. You felt what happens when someone has to catch the entire game board before it shatters on the floor."
'Yeah, I'm not about to tell the Holy Empire that I basically became the universe's new load-bearing wall,' Rimuru thought dryly. 'They'd either try to worship me or assassinate me, and honestly I don't have time for either.'
Rimuru's tone remained measured, almost gentle, but there was no mistaking the quiet authority behind it.
"As for the guests you saw earlier," Rimuru continued, his tone shifting to something almost conversational, "you're looking at them and seeing the apex predators in the room. The threats. The ones to fear. And I that's not entirely wrong." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "But you're still missing the scale entirely."
'Master, I am detecting an anomaly in the divine network data regarding the Destroyer God Beerus,' Raphael's voice chimed quietly in his mind. 'His ceremonial uniform bears an additional sigil layer not present in standard Destroyer God attire. Querying accessible records now.'
Rimuru kept his expression neutral while Raphael worked. 'Go ahead.'
"The woman in crimson," Rimuru said aloud, buying a moment, "Wanda Maximoff. She operates on a level of conceptual power that your holy texts would struggle to even categorize. Reality warping. Probability manipulation. The kind of power that doesn't fight armies—it rewrites the story so the armies were never there."
He paused, considering how to convey the rest without sounding like he was describing a myth.
"And honestly? Her power feels... familiar to me. Similar in nature to my own, if I'm being honest. She can rewrite histories. Not just memories or records—she can reach into the past and change what actually happened. She can erase entire universes if she deems them unworthy, or create brand new ones from scratch if she feels like starting fresh. Creation and destruction, both in the same breath."
Regulius's throat worked dryly, but no sound came out.
"That's not even the worst part," Rimuru continued, his tone almost conversational now, as if discussing the weather. "She exists on multiple layers. Ontological layers. Even if you somehow managed to destroy her physical form, destroy her soul, destroy every trace of her across every plane you could perceive... she'd still come back. Eventually. She's anchored to existence in ways that transcend normal causality. You'd need to be far beyond her in conceptual weight to actually contain her permanently. And good luck finding anyone who qualifies."
He shook his head slowly, a hint of genuine respect in his voice.
"She's what I'd call an ontological heavy hitter. The list of things she can't do is probably shorter than the list of things I don't have time to explain. I could stand here all day and still only scratch the surface of her capabilities." Rimuru met the count's stunned gaze with something that might have been sympathy. "And now, thanks to whatever cosmic restructuring happened during those tremors, she apparently holds the official station of a Destroyer God as well. So, on top of everything she already was, she now has divine authority to back it up."
Regulius looked like a man who had just been told the floor beneath his feet was made of paper, and the paper was on fire, and the fire was also a goddess who could decide the paper had never existed.
"You're saying," the count managed, his voice barely above a whisper, "that this woman could simply... decide the Holy Empire was a mistake and unmake it? Rewrite our entire history so we never were?"
Rimuru tilted his head thoughtfully. "Probably. But honestly, Count, she seems more interested in the tournament snacks right now. My advice? Don't give her a reason to pay attention to you."
A faint ping in his consciousness. Raphael again.
'I have contacted Whis, Lord Beerus's attendant. He was quite cheerful about the inquiry. He explains that Lord Beerus holds the rank of 2nd Vice Destroyer God—a position created specifically for him due to exceptional circumstances. Prior to the recent cosmic destabilization, there existed nearly one hundred Destroyer Gods across the known pantheon. Lord Beerus was ranked third among them in raw power and authority. Whis further noted that this pantheon represented only approximately half of the total divine hierarchy; there may have been a hundred more in adjacent multiversal clusters. The promotion to Vice Destroyer acknowledges his standing above the standard Destroyer designation. A direct superior.'
Rimuru blinked internally. 'Third among nearly a hundred? And that was only half the picture?'
'Note, Whis has provided additional context,' Raphael interjected smoothly. 'During the recent cosmic destabilization, both Lord Beerus and Lady Wanda functioned as sustainers for their respective universes. When the foundational essence beneath their realities began to unravel, they each redirected substantial power to pull their universes back into coherence. They are, in effect, the anchors that prevented their home realities from dissolving entirely.'
Rimuru absorbed this silently, filing it away. 'So, they did the exact same thing I did. Each of us held up our own corner when the floor vanished.'
'Correct, Master. The action itself was identical—substituting divine authority to stabilize a collapsing universal foundation. They anchored their realities; you anchored your one. The mechanism and the burden are equivalent.'
Rimuru let out a mental breath. 'Well. Good to know I'm not the only one secretly playing load-bearing wall for all of existence. Misery loves company, I guess.'
'An apt, if informal, assessment.'
'Yeah, let's keep that part quiet regardless. No need to advertise.'
Out loud, Rimuru shook his head slowly, genuine respect threading through his words. "What I can tell you is this—among the beings whose actual job is to judge whether entire worlds or universes get to keep existing, he was ranked third in power. Out of nearly a hundred. And that was only half the known pantheon. For all anyone knows, there were a hundred more just like him in other branches of reality."
He let that land, watching the count's face drain of what little color remained.
"Third strongest," Rimuru repeated quietly. "Out of possibly two hundred beings whose entire purpose is deciding what lives and what gets erased from existence entirely. And he's old, Count. Older than our universe. Older than whatever came before it. Whis—his attendant—basically told me that trying to put his age into human terms doesn't even make sense."
Regulius swayed slightly, one hand reaching out to steady himself against the back of a nearby chair. His two guards exchanged panicked glances but dared not move.
"I genuinely don't know which of us would come out ahead if it ever came to that," Rimuru admitted, and there was no false modesty in his voice. "I might have more conceptual weight in certain areas, but he has eons of experience I can't even fathom. And when the universe itself started falling apart recently?" Rimuru tilted his head meaningfully. "He was one of the ones holding the corners of existence together. Him and Wanda both. They pulled their realities back from the brink while everyone inside was too small to even notice the floor had vanished."
The count's lips moved soundlessly. "You're saying... the tremors we felt... those two were...?"
"They were busy keeping entire universes from unraveling," Rimuru confirmed. "You felt the aftershocks of that effort. The jolt of someone catching the board before everything on it fell into nothing."
He stepped closer, his voice dropping to something quiet and utterly serious.
"So let me be perfectly clear, Count Regulius. What you did today—barging into a private meeting unannounced, throwing around imperial demands in front of beings like that—you didn't just risk the Holy Empire's diplomatic standing. You risked the Holy Empire. Period. And not in a 'they might declare war' kind of way. In a 'they might erase the concept of your nation from history and not even remember doing it' kind of way."
Regulius flinched as if struck.
"I'm not saying they would," Rimuru continued, his tone softening slightly but losing none of its gravity. "They're not mindless destroyers. They have their own concerns, their own responsibilities. They were annoyed, not murderous. This time." He held the count's terrified gaze. "But you operate on a board you don't understand, making moves you can't foresee the consequences of. The beings in that room? They don't just play the game. They hold the board up so the game can exist at all. And so do I, in my own way."
He straightened, stepping back toward the door.
"So, take this information back to your Emperor. Let him know that the Holy Empire's ambitions, while understandable, are operating on a scale that simply doesn't apply anymore. The tremors you felt weren't an invasion. They were maintenance. And the next time you feel the need to 'probe Tempest' or 'assess foreign gods,' maybe just send a polite letter first. I'd rather not have to explain to my new colleagues why I let some mortal count disrupt their well-earned snack break.""
Rimuru offered a final, tired smile before leaving the count and his guards.
With that, he slipped out, leaving Regulius von Hohenberg standing in stunned, hollow silence—a man who had just been told that his entire world was a chess piece on a board held up by gods, and he had nearly kicked the table leg.
The door clicked shut behind Rimuru. He leaned against it for just a moment, exhaling slowly, letting the weight of the Count's fear slide off his shoulders. Then he straightened, smoothed his expression into something more appropriate for company, and walked back toward the main chamber's warm light.
Back in the main private chamber, the discussion had turned to lighter tournament logistics when a sudden, playful ripple of immense magical power washed through the palace—familiar, overwhelming, and utterly unmistakable to anyone who had met her before.
The air shimmered with pinkish-gold energy, and a bright, cheerful voice echoed from just outside the main doors.
"Rimuruuuu~! I heard there's a big tournament happening! And something about super-super strong guests from other worlds? You didn't invite me? That's so mean!"
The doors didn't so much open as they were cheerfully pushed aside by an invisible force, revealing Milim Nava in all her dragonoid glory—pink hair tied in twin tails, golden eyes sparkling with pure excitement, and her signature black-and-pink outfit fluttering dramatically as she floated a few inches off the ground, arms spread wide in theatrical indignation.
Behind her, looking mildly exasperated but fond, floated Valentine—no, wait, the elegant white-haired True Dragon in human form, wearing a refined white dress with subtle draconic motifs, her expression one of quiet amusement mixed with long-suffering patience.
"Milim, dear, you were literally told about the tournament a day ago," Valentine said softly, her voice like velvet over steel. "You just forgot because you were busy 'training' by eating an entire mountain of pudding."
Milim puffed her cheeks in an exaggerated pout. "Details, details! The important thing is I'm here now! And I brought Valentine because she said she wanted to see the 'interesting outsiders' too~"
Valentine's gaze swept the room with calm, ancient intelligence, lingering for a moment on Beerus and Wanda with polite curiosity before settling on the group as a whole.
Rimuru grinned at the True Dragon. "Valentine! Thanks for keeping Milim entertained on the way here. Veldora's around here somewhere with Goku, if you want to say hi to your little brother."
Velzard's sky blue eyes softened almost imperceptibly. "Later, perhaps. I'm more curious about what you've gotten yourself into this time, Lord Rimuru."
Milim zipped forward instantly, hovering right in front of Beerus with zero regard for personal space, her eyes wide and shining.
Milim zipped forward instantly, hovering right in front of Beerus with zero regard for personal space, her eyes wide and shining.
"Oooh! You're super powerful, right? Your aura feels super-super fun! Wanna fight after the tournament? Or during? Or before? I promise I'll hold back a little~"
"Milim, no—"
Rimuru's hand shot out, gently but firmly pulling the excitable Dragonoid back by her shoulder before she could poke the I-literally-just-finished-explaining-why-this-is-a-bad-idea god. His golden eyes flickered with genuine concern, not for himself, but for what might happen if Milim's playful challenge was taken seriously.
"Trust me on this one," Rimuru said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of someone who had just finished explaining the cosmic hierarchy to a terrified count. "Beerus isn't a sparring partner. He's a Destroyer God. I just got done explaining to the Holy Empire that picking fights with beings like him is a fast way to stop existing."
Milim pouted, crossing her arms. "But Rimuruuuu~ I'm also super strong! You know that!"
"I know." Rimuru's expression softened, but he didn't let go. "And I'm not saying you're weak. You're one of the strongest beings I know. But this is different. Different scale. Different everything."
Valentine stepped forward, her frozen gaze sweeping over Beerus with calm, ancient assessment. When she spoke, her voice was measured—respectful, but without fear.
"Lord Rimuru is correct, Milim dear." She inclined her head slightly toward the purple cat-like god. "I can feel it. His presence is... unlike anything I've encountered in all my eons. If I were to face him in earnest, I do not believe I would emerge victorious. Perhaps not even intact."
Beerus's ear twitched. His dangerous grin widened slightly, but there was a flicker of something else in those ancient eyes—approval, maybe, or simple amusement at being properly acknowledged.
"Hmph. At least some of you have sense." He leaned back, waving a dismissive hand. "Relax, Rimuru. I'm not going to erase your little dragon friend. She's amusing. Reminds me of someone else I know who never knows when to shut up and stop challenging people."
Milim's grin widened. "Hey! That does sound like me!"
Beerus snorted, the faintest hint of a genuine chuckle escaping him. "We'll see how you feel after the tournament, little dragon. If you still want to dance then... maybe I'll give you a few seconds of my time."
The atmosphere remained electric, but the immediate danger had passed—replaced instead with the crackling tension of a challenge deferred, not denied. Milim's eyes sparkled with barely contained excitement, already planning how to prove herself worthy of those "few seconds."
Rimuru exhaled slowly, releasing Milim's shoulder. 'That could have gone so much worse.'
Valentine caught his eye and gave a small, knowing nod. They understood each other. It wasn't about who would win or lose—Rimuru suspected he could push Beerus to a stalemate if it truly came to that, maybe even stall him long enough to find another way. But for what? The collateral alone would be apocalyptic. Two beings of their magnitude clashing wouldn't just level a city or scar a continent. They'd unravel the very fabric of the reality they were standing in, and everything caught between them—Tempest, its people, the tournament, the entire universe—would be ash before anyone could blink.
Some fights simply weren't worth having. And Beerus, for all his terrifying power, seemed to understand that too.
Outside, word of Milim's dramatic arrival was already spreading like wildfire through the palace corridors and into the capital below. Citizens who had only just recovered from Beerus's aura spike now buzzed with renewed energy.