Weeks passed since Rimuru first stepped foot into Nyvaris—a divine city covering the jura forest, crafted by the god Varvatos. What began as awe and curiosity slowly evolved into familiarity and purpose.
Rimuru had built a new rhythm for himself: one that involved brutal training, heartfelt connections, and a surprising return to something he never expected—design work.
Each dawn, Rimuru woke up before the golden light pierced the glass-like skies of Nyvaris. He'd stretch his new human limbs, still marveling at the sensation of having them after so long being a slime.
[Good morning. Training readiness: 92.4%. You have acquired "Spatial Reflex" and improved reaction time from last session with Benimaru.]
"Thanks, Sage. That explains why I didn't get kicked across the arena this time… mostly."
His days were an endless cycle of sparring and studies. Hakuro sharpened his form with elegant, precise swordplay. Benimaru pushed him to adapt under pressure. Diablo taught him misdirection, illusion, and magic-enhanced finesse. And Veldora? Veldora was pure chaos—dragon-force, full-powered, always shouting.
"Your footwork is still a mess!" Veldora roared during a skyborne battle.
"That's because you're throwing me around like a ragdoll!" Rimuru yelled back, flipping mid-air and landing on a floating boulder.
[Skill synthesis in progress… partial resistance to dragonic aura forming.]
Velzard, leaning casually nearby with a chilled drink, smirked. "You're getting better. You only crashed through five stone pillars today."
While combat kept his body honed, Rimuru also exercised his mind.
With more people seeking refuge in Nyvaris, the city had begun to expand. Floating platforms needed to be linked. Streets carved from shimmering marble needed design. Public plazas, trade zones, refugee housing—it was the kind of work Rimuru used to love.
One bright afternoon, he oversaw a new sky-street being constructed over a river of light.
"Let's add a water channel along the side," Rimuru told the dwarven stonecrafters. "It'll keep the area cool and help with sanitation. And for the middle lane, we'll use mana-stabilized stone—less upkeep over time."
An elf artisan beside him raised an eyebrow.
"You've done this before."
"Yeah. I was a contractor in my past life," Rimuru said with a small grin. "Designing spaces that feel alive—that's something I've always loved."
One evening, Rimuru was invited to a private balcony at the peak of the Astral Spire, the highest point in Nyvaris. Varvatos was waiting for him, as he often did, overlooking the city below.
Moonlight shimmered across his silver robes. A gentle breeze carried the scent of night-blooming flowers.
"You've adapted well," Varvatos said, gesturing for Rimuru to sit beside him.
"Still getting tossed around like a plush toy during training, but yeah, I guess I'm hanging in there."
Varvatos chuckled deeply. "And you've already started shaping this world in small ways. That is the mark of a true builder… not just of cities, but of futures."
There was a pause.
Then Varvatos raised a hand, and an ethereal map hovered in the air—floating islands, moving continents, magical ley lines threading through the skies like veins of power.
At the edges of this vision, shadows gathered—territories marked in red.
"I believe it's time you learned of the Demon Lords of this world," Varvatos said, his tone grave.
Rimuru leaned forward slightly.
"I've heard the name. Not much else."
The god nodded.
"They rule the Cardinal World. Beings of immense power and ambition. Some rule with fear. Others with strength. And each of them… is stronger than you are now."
Rimuru stiffened.
"Stronger… huh."
"Far stronger," Varvatos clarified. "Let me tell you of them."
One by one, glowing visages appeared, each overlaid on their territory.
"Guy Crimson, the Crimson king i call him. Cold, calculating, ancient. A force of absolute dominance. Even other Demon Lords fear his wrath, he is the leader of the demon lords council."
"Milim Nava, the Destroyer. Daughter of the creator of this world Veldanava and also Veldora niece. An ancient Dragonoid whose power has no equal. Her emotions guide her more than reason."
"Luminous Valentine, Empress of the Night. Ruler of Ruberios, a vampire of divine caliber. Beautiful, eternal, and merciless to her enemies."
"Leon Cromwell, the Platinum Saber. He rules El Dorado with iron precision and burning authority. He sees the world as chessboard, and lives as a king."
"Frey, Queen of the Harpies. Elegant and proud. Her rule in the skies commands fierce loyalty."
"Carrion, the Beast King of Eurazania. A warrior king who thrives on battle and strength."
"Clayman, the Marionette Master. A manipulator of shadows, puppets, and souls. Dangerous because of what he hides."
"Draguel, Lord of the Giants. A towering colossus whose strength has shaped mountains. He rules the Barren Lands with justice."
"Ramiris, the Fairy Queen. Odd and whimsical. Do not be deceived—she holds dominion over the Labyrinth, a realm few return from."
Varvatos let the illusions fade.
"These beings exist in the Cardinal World. For now, you are below them… but you are changing."
Rimuru stared quietly at where the images had vanished.
"So… they're not guardians. They're rulers. Powerhouses. Threats."
"Exactly." Varvatos nodded. "Some can be reasoned with. Others… not so easily. But remember, the barrier around Nyvaris, the Aetherveil, protects us. Anyone who bears hatred or malice toward this land cannot enter. They will be turned away—rejected by the will of this world."
"That's… incredible," Rimuru said.
"So long as your intentions are pure, you will always have a place here."
In the following days, Rimuru continued his training, emboldened by what he had learned.
He meditated in starlight with Velzard, sparred under roaring tempests with Veldora, coordinated defensive drills with Diablo and Benimaru, and even helped oversee construction projects that made Nyvaris more livable.
More refugees were arriving every week—mages, beastmen, elves, and even some former soldiers from ruined lands in the Cardinal World.
The streets of Nyvaris shimmered under a canopy of glowing mana-crystals suspended high above the city's central district. The marketplace bustled with chatter—fae traders bartering colorful spices, beastkin hawking exotic fabrics, and dragonkin artisans forging jewelry that sang with heat.
Rimuru wandered through it all with Veldora at his side, munching on a skewer of roasted meat glazed in sweet inferna-syrup. His senses had never felt so alive—taste, sound, the wind against his skin. It had been weeks since his arrival in this world, and his once-awkward steps through Nyvaris were now confident and smooth.
As they strolled toward the city's edge, they passed the Aetherveil Gate, a magical checkpoint that shimmered with protective runes. Dozens of people waited outside its glowing radius—those turned away by the city's sacred barrier, a spell that rejected anyone harboring ill intent.
Standing nearby, Diablo held a shimmering tablet in one hand, personally overseeing the day's clearance process. His obsidian wings were folded neatly behind him, and his crimson eyes glinted with a kind of sharp, dangerous peace.
Rimuru watched silently as a family of ogres was turned away, the barrier reacting violently to some trace of lingering hatred in the father's heart. The little girl with him cried as they turned and left.
Rimuru's chest tightened.
"They weren't criminals," he muttered. "Just… scared. Angry. But that doesn't mean they're evil."
Veldora raised a brow. "The barrier doesn't care about backstory. Just intention. It's old magic, very precise. Brutally fair."
Rimuru stood there, gaze distant. And then it struck him—like a sudden jolt of lightning.
"That's it…"
"Oh no," Veldora groaned. "Not another idea."
Within the grand halls of Varvatos' palace, the celestial windows poured in soft starlight. Rimuru didn't knock—he burst in, riding the winds of inspiration, only to stumble mid-step.
There, seated beside Varvatos, was a woman unlike any Rimuru had ever seen.
Long, silky silver hair flowed down her back, ornamented with woven crystal strands. Her armor glowed with faint runes, and her violet eyes gleamed with ancient knowledge and beauty. Her ears—long, elegant, unmistakably elven—twitched as she turned to him with cool curiosity.
"You must be Rimuru," she said, voice rich and melodic.
"Elves…" Rimuru whispered without thinking.
Varvatos chuckled. "You've caught him speechless, Elmesia."
"He's cute when he's stunned," she said, smiling faintly.
Rimuru blinked, realizing he had been staring. "S-sorry! I mean—it's an honor! I've always liked—uh—elves. You know, books and games and stuff!"
"And here I thought Veldora exaggerated your awkward charm."
Varvatos stood and gestured with pride. "Rimuru, meet Elmesia, Queen of Sarion. Ruler of the elves, master tactician, and—" he glanced sideways, smirking, "—my other beloved, after Velzard."
Rimuru nearly tripped.
"You—wait—she's—You're dating both an ice dragon goddess and the elven queen?!"
"For centuries now," Elmesia replied casually, sipping tea. "We don't compete. We simply alternate who saves Varvatos from his own pride."
"How… how are you all so calm about this?"
"Immortality teaches you patience," Elmesia said with a wink.
Once the chaos settled and Rimuru stopped blushing, he finally got to the reason he had come.
"I have an idea," he said, now seated between them. "About the barrier. About the people we're turning away."
Varvatos raised a brow. Elmesia listened intently.
"We can't just let everyone in blindly, sure. But maybe—maybe—we can let them see what Nyvaris really is. Just for a few days. No war, no pain. Just magic, wonder, food, art, music… something worth changing for."
"You want to host an open event?" Varvatos asked.
"Not just an event," Rimuru said, eyes gleaming. "A Festival of Unity. We'll invite leaders from across the Cardinal World. Open the gates—just for the festival. Let even the rejected ones in, on temporary passes. Maybe some of them will find something here that makes them want to change."
Elmesia tilted her head. "A clever plan. Using peace as a weapon of influence."
"We'll host a fighting tournament too," Rimuru continued, excited now. "Warriors from all kingdoms, races, and classes. We'll have merchant stalls, magical performances, enchanted games—everything. We show the world what Nyvaris truly stands for."
Varvatos smiled, tapping his fingers together. "It would require coordination. Diplomatic outreach. Security measures."
"I can help," Elmesia offered. "Sarion will send its finest elven artists, and I'll personally bring the Silverleaf Orchestra. I'll even consider being the opening speaker—if Rimuru asks me politely."
Rimuru gulped. "P-please…?"
She chuckled. "Adorable. Done."