「 ✦ Rimuru Tempest ✦ 」
If you asked me what my favorite form of combat was, I'd say hand-to-hand combat without hesitation. If you asked me what form of combat I was most skilled in, well, that would certainly be swordsmanship.
And while I won't disparage the elegant art of the blade—after all, swordsmanship was and is my main approach to close-quarters combat—I've always preferred the raw, masculine romance of just throwing hands.
There's something viscerally pure about unarmed combat that speaks to me on a soul level. It's the most adaptable form of fighting, requiring nothing but your body, your reflexes, and your goddamned will to win.
I thought about this as I dodged another fireball from Yue.
"That's sloppy," I said with a challenging smile. "Totally weaker than before. Lost your cool?"
Yue didn't reply, just maintained her impassive face as she began conjuring another spell. Twelve, then twenty-four consecutive gunshots resounded behind me—but I ducked just enough to let Hajime's enhanced bullets pass harmlessly overhead.
The morning sun streamed through the arena windows, casting shadows across stone that had already seen better days. The remaining Hero Party settled themselves watching from the elevated section—this "training session" looking more like a one-sided beatdown (the fact that it was three against one aside).
"Do any of you know what Velverin symbolizes?" I asked as I Godstepped from one spot to another.
"What is it with you and flowers?" Hajime asked back, reloading his ancient magic-imbued railgun.
"It means stunted growth," I explained, leaping backward as Yue's wind-lightning hybrid spell carved a burning scar across the arena floor. "It apparently only blooms when choked by other plants. Can you even believe that?"
I scoffed mockingly, my gaze finding Hajime's eyes.
"You remind me of those flowers. Want me to choke you and see if you bloom?"
A vein bulged prominently on Hajime's forehead.
That was when no more words were spoken. A cloud of dust kicked up where I stood as Yue's lightning-gravity combination spell hit, and a blast of purplish streak blitzed through the air right into my head.
Hajime had just fired his railgun, but I caught the massive bullet between my teeth and spat it onto the ground.
"What the fuck?!" Hajime shouted as I wiped saliva from my lips.
I went defensive as all three of them coordinated their assault. Yue unleashed mixed elemental and ancient magic. Hajime's arsenal had evolved too, each weapon enhanced with different ancient magics. His bullets multiplied mid-flight, his rockets carried gravity magic that made them hit far harder than they had any right to.
But it was Shea who surprised me most. Her war hammer ripped through the air with sonic booms, each swing wrapped in spatial magic. The three of them had learned to fight as one unit—when I dodged Yue's spells, I'd move right into Shea's range. When I evaded her hammer, Hajime's bullets were already there for me.
Impressive coordination—certainly far better than their teamwork back at Ur.
We continued our dance for the better part of the hour, the royal arena's floor getting reduced to rubble. I flew through the air from one of Yue's gravity wells, Hajime's guided projectiles following, not giving me time to think. I dashed left but Yue already had a spell waiting—a bomb of rotating pressurized winds that detonated as I approached.
This has gone on long enough.
Time to switch to offense.
I warped behind Hajime and delivered a gut punch that left him gasping blood. I warped again, this time behind Yue, and kicked her in the face. She flew into the wall with enough force to crack stone.
Shea roared and swung her hammer in a wide arc. I caught the weapon's head in my bare hand, the impact sending shockwaves through the arena floor. I threw her and the hammer away and grabbed Hajime's wrists that was about to pull a trigger, broke his hands, and in that same instant—
"At least make yourself presentable."
—I fixed his undone tie and mess of a collar.
My voice reached his ears seconds too late. I slammed him into the ground, my boot pressing against his chest. When Yue recovered and sent dozens of spatial severance orbs at me, I stretched out my hand and overrode her magic with my own authority, pulling her down telekinetically.
I stacked her above Hajime and stomped on both of them. When they showed resistance, I strengthened the pressure, cracking the stone floor in spiderweb patterns. Shea tried to attack from behind, but I caught her hammer and flipped her over my shoulder to join the pile.
"This should be enough."
I lifted my foot, allowing all three to crumple to the ground. They were breathing—barely, but breathing.
"Finished?" Shizuku asked from the viewing area where the hero party had been watching.
"I think so," I replied.
Hajime coughed, wiping blood from his chin. Yue started to rise, her regeneration already working. Shea groaned but was preparing to stand.
"You three have come a long way," I said. "Your coordination is impressive, and your individual skills have evolved significantly since the last time we fought. However—" I looked at Hajime. "Your mana control is still sloppy, so work on that."
His jaw tightened but he didn't argue.
"Yue, you're close to perfect in terms of spell execution, but you need to maintain better distance. And Shea," I turned to the rabbit-girl, "you're still too predictable. Vary your attack patterns. That's about it."
They all nodded, processing the feedback.
Hajime struggled to his feet. "That aside, how does your body even move like that? It seems physically impossible. What did you train yourself with?"
I pondered for a moment before saying what came to mind.
"Piano and calligraphy."
The look of bewilderment and annoyance that flashed across their faces was priceless, but they didn't respond—only tired, bloody sighs.
I didn't elaborate further and exhaled in satisfaction. I made my way out of the arena, the morning sun climbing higher in the sky. Behind me, I could hear them already analyzing the fight, turning defeat into lessons.
At least they wanted to learn.
As I reached the doorway, I noticed Shizuku approaching from the viewing section.
"Learn anything useful?" I asked.
She was quiet for a moment, considering. "Yes. That we have a very long way to go."
"Everyone does. That's what makes it interesting."
She fell into step beside me as we left the arena behind. "You really do enjoy this, don't you?"
"What did I even do this time?" I shrugged. "I sparred with them just as they asked."
"I think you went a little too far, though."
"It'll turn out great, trust me. Results speak for themselves. Besides, it's not my fault they were too lacking to keep up with the Tempest name."
She shook her head but didn't argue the point. It was going to be an interesting few days before they tackled those final two labyrinths. But for now, breakfast beckoned, and even demon lords needed to eat.
···—–—⚜—–—···
「 ✦ Tio Klarus ✦ 」
Sometimes... I wondered what people saw when they looked at me standing beside him, or following him around everywhere.
Did they see loyalty?
Did they think it was forced?
Or did they simply not understand it?
I could not blame them if they did not. To others, my bond with the young master must have seemed sudden. Unnatural, even. I was a proud dragonborn, but bound by a curse for vengeance and centuries of bitter silence.
He had been but a boy to me. A little lost, if I was being honest—and much too pretty for his own good.
We could not have come from more different paths.
At first, I had followed him for selfish reasons. That, I would never deny. I had seen a weapon. A possibility of a power I could lend my hatred to. I had been angry at the gods, angry at the world, and I had thought—if he can shake it, then perhaps I can watch him do so.
But as I served him, briefly traveled together with him, watched him live, something in me gradually changed.
I saw him stumble—then rise back.
I saw him grieve—then laugh again.
I saw him kill—and still choose kindness where none would have blamed him for wrath.
He was not flawless. Far from it, actually. He had made cruel choices. He had left stains on his soul. But what made him extraordinary was not that he remained untouched by darkness—it was that he learned to live with it.
The young master bore a weight that most would have crumbled under. He was far from home, cut from everything he had ever held dear. And still he remained standing because he refused to surrender, not because he believed he deserved to win.
That stubbornness and that rage beneath his calm, as well as that silent, inconspicuous but desperate longing to protect even when he believed he had nothing left to give.
That was what drew me to him.
It was not a bond of accident, nor one of pity.
He did not ask for loyalty. He did not demand worship.
And maybe that was why I gave him both.
Following and watching him had saved me from a slow, meaningless rot.
In him, I had seen the kind of strength I never had.
And beside him... somewhere along the way, I learned to forgive myself.
Because he had shown me that our pasts, no matter how sad or tragic or monstrous, did not define the endings we chose.
Maybe I did project onto him at first. Maybe I did idolize him and made him into something larger than he really was. A savior—or maybe even a symbol. A chance to redeem myself through someone else's strength.
But maybe it doesn't matter how it started. Only that I stayed.
···—–—⚜—–—···
It was midday, and the young master and I were walking along the edge of the Reisen Gorge. The sun beat down mercilessly, but neither of us minded the heat. Our footsteps resounded softly against the rocky ground as we made our way forward at an unhurried pace.
"Apparently fourteen of the heroes are already dead," he whispered beside me.
He was calm, and he didn't seem to be particularly disturbed, but I'd long since learned not to trust that mask.
"Shizuku told me about it," he continued, kicking a small stone that skittered off into the distance. "So among the original thirty-one, only seventeen had survived up to this point—including Aiko."
I glanced at him, trying to read his expression. Why was he bringing this up now? We'd been walking in comfortable silence for the past hour, and suddenly he drops this news.
The young master had a habit of doing that—bringing up serious topics when you least expected it, or dropping a joke at the most inappropriate situations.
"It's a shame, isn't it?" he continued, his golden eyes fixed on the horizon. "Kids robbed of their youth before they had a chance to experience life for real. Even way before that, death was always a plausible ending the moment they were brought into this war."
He paused mid-step and turned around, as if to gauge my reaction. Those sharp golden eyes of his seemed to be searching for something in my face.
"Yes," I agreed, meeting his gaze steadily. "It is a shame."
The wind picked up, sending small pebbles skittering across the ground. In the distance, I could see the jagged edges of the gorge stretching ahead of us.
"Not very convincing coming from me, huh? Since I killed a few of them myself," he said with a bitter laugh.
"That's not what I meant, young master," I replied quickly, worried that I had somehow given him the wrong impression. The last thing I wanted was for him to think I was judging him. "You know that. I would never—"
"Yeah," he said with a melancholic smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Then he stopped walking entirely, so I did too. "So don't die, Tio."
It was a request so simple yet so devastatingly sincere.
My heartbeat quickened as he looked at me with those piercing golden eyes. Those eyes that I had come to admire so deeply, and the strength behind them that had propelled me into devotion.
I had no plans of dying, of course, but this simple request became even more reason why I didn't want to disappoint him. How could I, when he looked at me like that?
The young master had been through a lot. During those times when I'd seen him standing at the edge of breaking, when the burden of his choices threatened to crush him, he always found a way to pull himself back together.
In more ways than one, I thought that resilience was his greatest strength.
He was much too stubborn to lose himself completely.
"I don't plan to die anytime soon, young master," I said finally, offering him a reassuring smile. Then I continued walking forward, not bothering to turn around to see his reaction. "At least not until I've seen you fulfill your goal."
"Wha—? Hey, my goal's pretty dangerous, you know?" he called out behind me.
I didn't respond immediately, enjoying the way his footsteps quickened as he hurried to fall back into step beside me.
"You could've just said the first half and left it at that," he grumbled beside me. "That would've been enough, but no, you had to add the 'watch you fulfill your goal' part."
He seemed to be sulking, but I chose to ignore it. Sometimes the young master needed to process these things in his own way.
...
The truth was, the young master did not see himself as a good person.
Granted, he had made choices—and probably was going to make more hard choices—that made him think of himself that way. Maybe it was almost impossible to change his mind, to fully convince him that beneath all the blood and violence, he was still a pure, gentle, loving soul. After all, he had already embraced the darkness inside him and accepted it as part of who he was.
There was nothing I could do about that. Nothing to change that fundamental part of who he'd become. I wasn't naïve enough to think otherwise.
But... I wanted to at least be able to make him feel like he wasn't alone in this world. Even if I couldn't get him to see past the tragedy of his own life and into the goodness that he truly was, I could stand beside him. I could sympathize with his loneliness, even if I couldn't fully understand the depths of it.
And if nothing else, I wanted to be there when he finally achieved what he'd set out to do—to overthrow the gods and return to the world he sought. I was satisfied, for now, to stay beside him and fulfill whatever small needs I could. Miniature needs though they may be, but as long as I drew breath, I wanted to see him reach the place where he felt he truly belonged.
He was still young, after all. Despite everything he'd been through, despite the blood in his hands and the enemies he'd made, he was still just a guy far from home with no way home.
"What are you doing?"
Before I realized it, I had pulled him into a hug. My hands moved absentmindedly, fingers threading through his soft, beautiful hair with gentle strokes.
When had it gotten so long?
And when had he grown so tall?
He used to be so tiny, barely reaching up to my chin.
This was seriously making me emotional.
I can't believe I used to plan on just using him, I cursed myself silently as the young master accepted my gesture without protest. He didn't fight back or pull away—he just stood there somewhat awkwardly, settling into my arms eventually.
"Tio?" he asked softly, his voice muffled against my shoulder. "This is so unlike you."
"Just stay still for a while."
He knew—I was certain—about my original intentions.
He understood that my initial desire to follow him had been born from more selfish motives. Growing up over these long centuries, I'd always harbored a strong and hidden hatred toward the gods. Even when I kept myself in check most of the time, that hatred had sometimes influenced my choices, guided my decisions in ways I wasn't always proud of.
But now I had another reason to fight—something beyond mere vengeance. Something that made the future seem worth fighting for, even if that future was uncertain and dangerous.
Because I wanted to see him feel safe again.
Because I wanted to see the day he finally put the fighting behind him.
And I wanted to be there to say goodbye when he goes home.
Because in the end, even if I couldn't redeem myself for the centuries I had wasted, I could make use of what remained—by seeing him through to the end. And if I died doing that, I'd die with pride.
"We should keep moving," he said eventually, but he made no move to pull away from me.
"Will you keep getting taller?" I asked with a smile, trying to shift the mood before my emotions got the better of me.
He scoffed. "Seriously? That's your takeaway from this?"
"You used to barely reach my chin, young master."
"Well, you used to be less clingy."
"You didn't seem to mind."
"Yeah. You smell good, after all."