The city of Nyvaris, once a secret gem hidden deep within the folds of the Cardinal World, was finally breathing in the fresh air of quiet after the chaotic brilliance of the recent Festival. The echoes of battle cries from the Labyrinth challenges had faded. The cheering crowds, the booming laughter of Demon Lords, and the earthshaking might of the battles now felt like a dream. Life had returned to a peaceful hum.
Velzard and Varvatos, walking together as they often did, strolled through the cobbled streets of the city. The sky above was warm with golden hues as the sun began to dip, casting long shadows and a serene glow over the marble spires and enchanted stonework of Nyvaris.
The people greeted them with admiration and respect. Children pointed in awe, merchants offered friendly bows, and even guards gave way with proud nods. But amidst the calm, Velzard's mind drifted to a more serious matter.
She glanced at Varvatos as he gently plucked a white flower from a vine-covered lamppost and handed it to her.
"Varvatos," Velzard began, her tone light but purposeful, "Have you thought more about opening Nyvaris to the rest of the world? The festival drew eyes. We can't stay hidden forever."
Varvatos smirked as he looked up at the sky. "I haven't forgotten. I was giving everyone a few days to relax. Even Demon Lords need a breather after nearly being crushed by their own pride."
Velzard laughed softly, tucking the flower behind her ear. "True… still, the world is watching now. You've shown them a glimpse of Nyvaris' power and beauty. They're curious, maybe even a little nervous."
Varvatos stopped walking. His crimson eyes studied the horizon, then turned to her. "I could sit on a throne and play the diplomat, shake hands, give speeches. But that's not me. You know that better than anyone, Velzard."
She raised an eyebrow, already guessing where this was headed. "So…?"
"I plan to appoint one of my generals to act as the face of Nyvaris—our official representative. They'll handle all the political mumbo jumbo: alliances, negotiations, foreign relations." He waved his hand lazily in a circle. "I'll stay behind the curtains. Observing. Quiet. But always present."
Velzard gave him a knowing smile. "Of course. You see everything."
He chuckled and drew her into a warm, unhurried embrace. "Exactly."
Meanwhile, deep in the mountainous kingdom of Dwargon, King Gazel Dwargo was not having a peaceful time.
The days since the festival had been anything but calm for him. Envoys from almost every major nation had descended upon his halls like flies to honey. Each one came with fine robes, golden scrolls, silver-tongued diplomats, and that same damn request:
"Can you introduce us to Varvatos of Nyvaris?"
It started with Blumund. A polite request from King Fuze, dressed in humble noblewear and bringing local wine as tribute.
Then came Siltrosso with their colorful robes and a dozen dancing courtiers trying to impress the dwarves.
Ingrassia sent a regimented envoy bearing dozens of sealed documents and a full economic proposal.
Falmuth, Farmenas, Fulbrosia, Angelus, Coleus, Filtwood, and even Raja—each with their own culture, quirks, and a unified message:
"We wish to open formal relations with Nyvaris. Please mediate."
By the fifth day, Gazel had started hiding from his own ministers.
The tenth envoy arrived while Gazel was halfway through his morning ale. The poor king sighed and leaned back in his throne.
"Let me guess…" he muttered. "You want to meet Varvatos."
The envoy blinked. "Er… y-yes, your Majesty. We humbly seek—"
"—to build diplomatic ties, yes, yes, I've heard it. That's the twentieth time this week." He waved his hand dismissively. "Alright, send your petition to my scribes. Next!"
He stomped into his chambers later that day and closed the door. Grumbling, he pulled out a magic communication orb and activated it.
[Magic Call: Varvatos]
Gazel: "I swear on my beard, Varvatos, I've been turned into your secretary."
Varvatos (appearing amused): "Ah, my dear King of Dwarves. I imagine the diplomats are flooding in like a broken dam?"
Gazel: "Flood? Try tsunami. My hall's turning into a bloody consulate!"
Varvatos laughed. "My apologies. I should've expected the curiosity."
Gazel: "Apologies won't get me my peace back. What do I tell them? Everyone wants an alliance. They want trade, knowledge, and most importantly—they want to not be left out of whatever you're doing."
Varvatos' eyes shimmered with calm power. "Tell them that Nyvaris is preparing a diplomatic corps. One of my generals will be named ambassador, and through them, alliances will be considered."
Gazel: "You're not going to do it yourself?"
Varvatos: "You know me, Gazel. I don't do politics. I move the pieces, but I don't play the game on the board."
Gazel snorted. "Well, be quick about naming that general. I'm getting old answering your fan mail."
Varvatos chuckled. "You have my word. Within the week, the world will know the face of Nyvaris' diplomacy."
Gazel: "Good. Because if another envoy shows up with a poetry scroll about your Labyrinth, I might throw myself into it."
Later that night...
The vast dome of the Twilight Marble Hall shimmered beneath a web of magical lights that mimicked the stars above. The long stone table at the center glowed faintly with ancient runes, a symbol of the unity that had built Nyvaris from a dream into a thriving power nestled in the heart of the Jura Forest.
Around it, the most influential figures of the nation sat—generals, architects, guardians, and companions who had stood side by side for years under the leadership of Varvatos, the Primordial King.
Rimuru sat toward the center, calm but curious, dressed in a deep silver robe embroidered with the crest of Nyvaris. His gloved fingers rested on the table, his bright eyes flicking between the others. Shizu was seated beside him, silent and graceful, her presence steady as a flame in the wind. Her gaze occasionally drifted toward Rimuru, a quiet smile tugging at her lips.
To his right sat Veldora, arms crossed and legs up on the table, exuding casual arrogance.
Benimaru sat with his hands folded, alert.
Diablo leaned back with an amused expression, swirling a goblet of wine.
Gobta fiddled nervously with a biscuit.
Souei, still as a shadow, observed.
Hakuro, regal and ancient, nodded politely to each speaker.
Rigur and Kaijin, flanked by his brothers Garm, Dord, and Myrd, looked expectant.
Shion sat confidently beside Shuna, who adjusted her sleeves with poise.
Ranga lay beneath Rimuru, ears twitching.
At the head of the table stood Varvatos—silent until now.
He lifted his hand, and the room quieted instantly.
"Thank you all for coming... again," he said, his voice echoing with power, yet warm. "I won't waste time. This meeting isn't about battle or threats. It's about the world beyond our borders."
The room stirred.
"As you know, the festival we just hosted was a turning point. We have drawn the attention of kings and councils, sages and spies. Nyvaris is no longer a quiet jewel within the Jura Forest. The world sees us now—and they want in."
He stepped forward, meeting the eyes of each of them.
"Diplomatic envoys are already on their way. Treaties, trade, alliances… it's all beginning. And I, for one, do not enjoy politics."
A quiet chuckle rolled across the room.
Gobta raised a cautious hand. "Uh… Lord Varvatos… you're not stepping down, are you?"
Varvatos chuckled softly.
"No, Gobta. I'll always be here. Watching. Guiding. I simply believe that the one who leads our diplomatic face must be one who embodies what we are now—not just what I was then. Nyvaris belongs to all of us. We built it together."
He turned, motioning toward the table.
"So I ask you all now—who among you should be the Acting King of Nyvaris?"
A heavy silence followed. The weight of the moment pressed down like gravity.
Elmesia, seated at the far end beside Velzard, crossed her arms thoughtfully. "This is no mere ceremonial choice. The one you select will shape our future relations for generations."
Benimaru glanced across the table. "It has to be someone strong—not just in power, but in presence."
Diablo smiled slightly. "Someone who can charm gods and terrify demons."
Kaijin nodded. "And speak for both nobility and commoners alike."
Shuna added gently, "Someone who can listen as well as lead."
Eyes began to shift subtly across the table—glancing not toward the veterans, but toward one person in particular.
Rimuru, unaware at first, raised a brow. "What? Why is everyone looking at me?"
Gobta grinned. "You're kinda the obvious choice, boss."
Rimuru blinked. "Me?! I'm the newest one here!"
Rigur spoke next. "And yet you've united people who never would've spoken. You've calmed tensions, brought in foreign guests, and helped shape the festival. Even nobles from Ingrassia couldn't take their eyes off you."
Shion snorted. "That was mostly 'cause of your cute face, but still."
Shizu smiled. "They trust you, Rimuru. And so do we."
Veldora stretched lazily. "Honestly, it saves me the trouble. You'll make all the boring decisions, and I'll just punch things when needed."
Rimuru leaned forward, suddenly serious. "You guys... I didn't come here to be king. I just wanted to help. I'm still figuring myself out. You're all older, more experienced—"
Souei interrupted, his voice calm. "And yet because of you the world now is drwan to Nyvaris...in a good way."
Velzard, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "I have seen many monarchs. Most hunger for the crown. You, Rimuru, fear it—and that is precisely why you are worthy of it."
Varvatos watched the entire exchange silently, a knowing smile on his face.
Rimuru looked around the table, truly seeing for the first time the faith they placed in him—not because of rank or power, but because of who he was.
He exhaled, then stood slowly.
"If you all believe in me that much… then I won't let you down."
A moment of silence. Then—
Varvatos stepped forward, placing a hand over Rimuru's shoulder.
"Then let it be known: From this night forward—Rimuru Tempest shall serve as the Acting King of Nyvaris."
The hall erupted in applause. Ranga barked triumphantly. Shizu leaned gently against Rimuru's side, pride shining in her eyes.
Diablo, for once, gave a genuine smile.
Benimaru nodded in respect.
Shion pumped her fist into the air.
Gobta shouted, "LONG LIVE KING RIMURU!"
And in that moment, under the starlit dome of the Twilight Hall, a new era began—not with a coronation of gold, but with a crownless king chosen by trust.