The morning after the awakening banquet, Rimuru's head felt surprisingly clear, but his stomach was in absolute freefall.
They were gathered in the main strategy room of Arashi's central administration building. A massive, hand-drawn map of the continent was pinned to the center table, surrounded by stack upon stack of intelligence briefs that Diablo had somehow compiled before dawn.
"So... let me get this straight," Rimuru said, slumping forward and resting his forehead against the polished oak surface. "Walpurgis isn't just a meeting. It's a gathering of ancient, walking catastrophes who have spent centuries annihilating armies whenever they get bored?"
"A most accurate description, Lord Rimuru," Diablo purred, setting a cup of steaming tea right next to Rimuru's elbow. His golden-crimson eyes shone with uncritical adoration. "Though you understate your own magnificence. As a newly awakened True Demon Lord, you possess a soul of unmatched brilliance. You need not fret over trivialities like etiquette or ancient rivalries. Should any of those ancient relics display the slightest hint of insolence, you have only to give the command, and I shall reduce them and their seat to ash."
"Please do not encourage him to start a war in the first five minutes," Shizue sighed, rubbing her temples as she leaned against the adjacent chair. She looked over at Rimuru with a soft, grounded smile. "Rimuru-san, ignore Diablo's violent enthusiasm. Walpurgis is a political arena, not an execution ground. The most important thing you can do is listen, read the room, and keep your temper in check. Not every sharp remark is a declaration of hostility. Most of these Demon Lords are just bored, eccentric, and testing your boundaries."
"Testing my boundaries," Rimuru groaned into the wood. "Great. Wonderful. What if I bow wrong? Is there a specific angle? Do I address Guy Crimson as 'Your Majesty' or 'Hey, red guy'?"
Loki, who was slouched in a plush armchair near the window with his boots propped up on a decorative side table, let out a slow, deliberate hum.
"Well, since you asked, the greeting protocol for Guy Crimson is actually very specific," Loki said, his voice dropping into a solemn, academic tone. "When you step into the round chamber, you have to place your left hand on your hip, point your right index finger straight at the ceiling, and shout, 'I am the Slime of Destiny, bow before the azure sunrise!' It's an ancient High-Demon tradition. If you don't do it, he'll consider it a sign of weakness and challenge you to a duel on the spot."
Rimuru lifted his head, his eyes wide with sheer panic. "Wait—seriously?! Point at the ceiling?!"
"And if Leon Cromwell looks at you, you're supposed to flap your arms like a dragon bird to assert territorial dominance—"
"Loki-san, stop lying to him," Shizue interrupted, slapping a rolled-up parchment map directly across the back of Loki's head.
Loki ducked with a bark of laughter, a broad, mischievous grin breaking across his face as he dropped his boots back onto the floor. "Come on, Shizue. I was building his confidence!"
"You were setting him up to get pulverized before the opening remarks," Shizue said dryly, turning back to Rimuru with a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "There are no ridiculous dances, Rimuru-san. Loki-san is taking advantage of your anxiety."
Rimuru slumped back onto the table with a loud groan, glaring at his sworn brother. "I trusted you! I was actually taking mental notes!"
"Alright, alright, joke over," Loki chuckled, his tone shifting into something far more grounded and serious. He rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward over the map. "Let's talk about the actual layout of the board, because Walpurgis isn't a joke, even if I like making fun of it."
Loki tapped his finger on the western edge of the map. "First, Clayman's seat is vacant, but his death did not erase every arrangement built around him. Informants, clients, trade partners, and lesser rulers have all lost a patron."
"What about Guy?" Rimuru asked, sitting up straight. "Is he really as terrifying as you all say?"
"Guy controls the meeting's pace and decides when an argument has become violence," Loki explained. "Do not mistake his role for neutrality. Guy has preferences, history, and pride, but he respects composure and strength. If you act like a helpless victim, he'll discard you. If you act like a mindless brute, he'll put you down."
Loki shifted his finger across the map toward the southern territories. "Then there's Milim. Her friendship helps you, but relying on it publicly will weaken your claim. She can support you, but she cannot prove that you deserve a seat. Milim is one of the oldest Demon Lords, and while she genuinely considers you a close friend, the other Demon Lords will view her backing as favoritism unless you demonstrate your own judgment."
"And Leon?" Rimuru turned his head toward Shizue.
Shizue's expression tightened slightly, though her eyes remained calm. "Leon is pragmatic and difficult to read. He will judge whether the place I hold beside you reflects respect or possession."
"There's one more thing you need to keep in mind," Loki added, his eyes locking onto Rimuru's with total clarity. "The political perception. Everyone knows we share the Arashi name and that our nations are allied. But if you walk into that chamber looking like a proxy under the protection of the Eighth Primordial, the other Demon Lords will treat Arashi as a satellite state. They need to see the sovereign who defended Arashi, awakened as a True Demon Lord, and now carries responsibility for thousands of lives."
Rimuru leaned back in his chair, taking in the full weight of Loki's words. He tapped his fingers thoughtfully against the map, tracing the lines of Arashi's borders.
"So my goal at Walpurgis isn't just surviving or picking a fight with Clayman's ghost," Rimuru said, his voice hardening as his political instincts took over. "I need to prove that I deserve recognition as a Demon Lord while making it clear that Arashi stands on its own. We aren't asking for Jistav, and we won't accept a title that lets humans or monsters treat every monster nation as an automatic enemy. Most importantly, I'm not going in there as your subordinate or Milim's pet project."
"And what will you do if they offer you individual recognition as a Demon Lord, but refuse to treat Arashi's citizens with dignity?" Shizue asked softly, leaning closer. "If they treat you as an exception among monsters?"
"Then I reject the terms," Rimuru replied without hesitation. "I'll accept the responsibility of the seat, but I won't accept a title that isolates me from my people or paints a target on their backs. If I stand among them, I stand as the leader of Arashi, protecting the lives we've built."
"Exactly," Loki said, a sharp, approving smile touching his lips. "I'll be in the room as a co-caller of the meeting, and I'll have your back if things break down into absolute chaos. But I can't speak for you, Rimuru. I can't earn that seat for you. You have to step up to the table on your own two feet."
Rimuru sat up straight, taking a deep, steadying breath. He looked at Diablo's absolute confidence, Shizue's steady resolve, and Loki's quiet, unyielding expectations.
"Okay," Rimuru murmured, a firm smile finally settling onto his face. "No absurd dances. No crying. I'm going in there as the ruler of Arashi. And they're just going to have to make room for a slime."
Later, after the strategy session broke up and the room cleared out, Rimuru stood alone by the tall stained-glass window overlooking the main thoroughfare.
He let the brave facade slip, a quiet sigh escaping his lips.
Inside his mindscape, he felt the cool, comforting presence of Raphael waiting silently.
[Report: Internal magicule reserves are stable. All post-evolutionary functions are operating at peak efficiency.]
Yeah, I know, Raphael, Rimuru thought privately, closing his eyes. You can memorize every title in those reports, analyze every spell I show you, and run calculations faster than I can follow. Beelzebuth can devour entire armies. But neither of you can give me centuries of political experience.
Raw power was one thing; standing in a room full of ancient monsters who had ruled nations, fought wars, and shaped history for centuries was another entirely. He was still, at his core, Satoru Mikami. A guy who used to worry about project deadlines and train commutes. The confidence he had shown Loki and Shizue was a necessary performance, a mask he had to wear so his people wouldn't panic.
Rimuru looked out over the thriving town, watching the citizens build, trade, and live their lives under his flag.
Ready or not, I'm still going, he told himself, tightening his fists. They trusted me to protect them. I can be afraid. I just can't let fear speak for me.
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