Tensei Shitara Slime Datta Ken (LN) - Volume 15 - Chapter 3.1

“Come on, come on, come on! If you aren’t paying attention to me, you must think you have this won, don’t you?”

“Gwah-ha-ha-ha! Of course! You will know that you are no match for me!”

It was big talk, but Gabil had no time to spare. The odds were against him, and even now, the word “retreat” was starting to take shape in his mind. But then he received some reinforcements he never could have imagined.

“Hey. Looks like you’re in trouble. Need a hand?”

The voice was unexpected, but it belonged to someone Gabil knew well.

“Why can’t you be honest with yourselves, hmm? We asked Milim to transport us because we were worried, you realize.”

And there was another—the beautiful queen and ruler of the sky.

“Lord Carillon… Lady Frey… Why are you here?”

Carillon laughed at Gabil’s surprised question.

“That can wait for later, can’t it? Let’s get rid of these guys first.”

Frey nodded in agreement. “We’re in an alliance, aren’t we? It’s only natural that we’d send out reinforcements. So we’re joining in, and we’ll work under Sir Benimaru’s command.”

The Beast Master’s Warrior Alliance serving Carillon numbered less than a hundred, but each member was an army in themselves. The “Heaven Fliers,” Frey’s close assistants, were the same way—warrior-type harpies were a rare sight, but they were still notorious for their well-honed skills. There weren’t many of them, but they couldn’t have asked for better reinforcements.

“I am glad to see you!” Gabil said, deciding to accept this rather than fret about it. He sent a message to Benimaru for instructions and received an immediate response.

“We are having Moss send us an update on your situation over there. Don’t let your guard down—Gradim’s up to something, to be sure. Keep an eye out for their rank-and-file soldiers!”

The orders were straightforward—just the main points, no specific instructions on who should take on whom. But Gabil liked it that way. It made him feel trusted, depended on.

“Very well. Sir Carillon, I would like you to handle the enemy’s main commander here.”

“Heh-heh! Smart choice there. He’s the scourge of every lycanthrope, I’ll tell ya. I wrote him off as dead long ago, but seeing him alive’s the biggest shock I’ve had all day. Can’t wait to put an end to him myself.”

That was Carillon’s intention from the beginning, so he was more than happy with these orders.

“And will that bird girl over there be my adversary?”

“Bird girl” would describe you, wouldn’t it? Gabil thought. But he wasn’t stupid enough not to realize the consequences of saying it out loud. He was still concerned about his sister Soka as well, so Frey’s offer was fine with him.

“Mmm, can you do that for me?” he asked, trying to sound like a leader.

“Right. I’ll be off, then.”

Frey glanced over to the two Twin Wings next to her.

“You handle the rest for me.”

“Good luck, Lady Frey!”

She nodded at them and took flight for Nazim, the Vermilion Bird, who was continuing her beating of Soka until she noticed Frey coming.

“Frey…! I am the true queen. And today I shall make amends for our long-standing grudge!”

Unbeknownst to Frey herself, Nazim was her twin sister. A mutant born with great powers, she was unfortunately sterile, unable to reproduce—and in the female-dominated society of the harpies, a queen who cannot bear children was simply unacceptable. It wasn’t Nazim’s fault at all, but she was disqualified from the moment she was born—and what’s worse, the queen at the time opted to expel her from the land, fearing she’d be a harbinger of future calamity.

So, while wandering the land, Nazim was picked up by Gradim—and before long, her anger and hatred toward her own people began to grow. And now the symbol of that anger, Frey, was right in front of her. With an odd-feeling mixture of joy and resentment, she flew up to intercept her.

“Well,” Carillon casually said as he watched from a distance, “let’s get started over here.”

Gradim gritted his teeth. “Don’t look down on me, you bastard.”

“Looks like Frey’s dealing with her own flesh and blood, huh? Guess that’s fate at work. If we hadn’t come to help out, I never would’ve had this opportunity, eh?”

“Opportunity?”

“Yeah. The chance to kill you—and prove once and for all that I am the strongest beastman.”

“The hell you will! That’s my job!”

Carillon and Gradim had quite similar personalities and ways of speaking. They possessed fierce tempers, and in a way, even the world wasn’t big enough for the both of them. Carillon was right—this battle was driven by fate.

“Let’s go.”

“Come to me. I’ll show you the difference between us.”

Invoking his unique skill Royal Beast, Carillon attained his true form as Beast Master—fully armored, and ready to go all-out from the start. Gradim, meanwhile, held the power of the white tiger, which he hadn’t even broken out against Gabil. This solitary tiger, clad in the Empire’s military uniform, was ready to intercept the would-be king of the beasts.

There were now two sets of combatants on the battlefield clashing mightily against each other. Gabil was now confirming that the new reinforcements were moving in accordance with Benimaru’s instructions. It all went very smoothly. Much like Team Kurenai and Team Hiryu, they were all under the command of Dolph, leader of the Heavenly Regiment. More detailed orders were given at certain key points, but Benimaru had decided it was better to leave most of that work to officers on the ground.

Gabil, for his part, supported this decision. He imagined that, much like himself, Benimaru would be busy fighting the enemy’s top leadership. And it looked like this was the right decision to make.

Although each individual member of the Empire’s Magical Beast Division fought at a high level, their maneuvers as a group weren’t all that praiseworthy. Despite being outnumbered, the allied forces were able to maintain their front lines through skillful coordination. Even so, there was no denying their disadvantage. The reinforcements were thus more than welcome—and now they were about to stage a counterattack.

“All right. Things seem to be going well. Soka’s back to healing herself…and I need to do my best as well.”

“Distracted with me in front of you? Not a good idea.”

Gabil, watching the battlefield, was threatened with a spear attack once more. Baraga was his opponent; Gradim had left with Carillon, but the battle with Baraga was still going.

“Gwah-ha-ha-ha! We are under orders from our commander. I’m afraid I can’t focus strictly on you right now.”

“Then you sorely underestimate me.”

“And that wouldn’t be the other way around? If Gradim had tackled us seriously from the start, after all, I’m not sure I would still be here.”

“Pfft! The great Beast King doesn’t need to treat the likes of you seriously.”

Gabil shook his head, exasperated. “And that is what letting your guard down means. It is said that a lion expends his full effort to catch even so much as a rabbit. And in a world where might makes right, it’s only polite to give your all against whoever you go up against, isn’t it?”

He flashed a brazen smile. But despite his words, the thought of his friends flashed into his mind. Quite a few of them, he thought, didn’t expend their full effort against their enemies at all, Diablo chief among them. Gabil would occasionally challenge him to a training battle, only to get beaten by a pulp without so much as a serious effort from him.

Well, there’s an exception to every rule. Besides, if he really tried against me, it’d be over in an instant. I have no right to complain… We may have the same position, but there’s just so much of a difference between us. That’s the sad reality of it.

Rimuru, at least, acknowledged his talents enough to put him among the Twelve Lordly Guardians. Gabil was proud of that, but he also knew where he was in the pecking order. Awakening and becoming stronger helped him better realize the strength of Diablo and the other demons. Even the three demonesses who didn’t get evolved at the victory celebration were far more powerful than Gabil currently—and if so, the stronger (and now evolved) Diablo must be up to unimaginable heights.

He could never beat him, and he was all right with that—but if he gave up on improving himself now, it really would be the end. No, as long as he could keep chasing after him, it didn’t matter if he couldn’t win right now. Such were Gabil’s thoughts, as he strove to keep his ambition to improve. Being that way, he knew what true strength was—and although it was still just imagination on his part, he instinctively understood that true strength wasn’t what the likes of Gradim and Baraga had.

“Thus I shall never be defeated!”

“Nonsense! Your army is already doomed to failure. You owe us a great debt for allowing you to die before you witness the true hell that awaits you!”

Baraga sharpened his attack. Gabil carefully parried it.

“Mm-hmm. Are you talking about the transformation of your soldiers? I’d like to know what they did, exactly.”

The moment Gabil pointed it out, Baraga slowed down. He stared at Gabil, looking a bit perturbed.

“Oh… You noticed?”

“Of course I did. We have a very talented commander.”

“Well, you’re still too late. The order has been given—and all that’s left for you is to die in despair!”

As proof, Baraga pointed out the now fully recovered Gozaline.

“Hmm. Very impressive healing. But anyone with our strength would be capable of that, no?”

Gabil had noticed that Gozaline was back in good shape. That much wasn’t surprising. But Baraga still gave him a bold smile.

“No, not Gozaline. Around her.”

“Mmm?”

A chill ran down Gabil’s spine. There he saw a pile of fallen imperial soldiers. Why was Baraga proudly pointing them out? He couldn’t understand. And besides…

…Actually, when did these soldiers die?

The enemy boasted high numbers, so he didn’t give it much thought before, but this was a truly extraordinary number of dead. Looking closer, he realized that many enemy troops were leaving the front lines and going back down to the ground. Tracing their paths, he found that a large number of them were all but helpless, coughing up blood or collapsing on the spot.

“Wha?!”

“Did you notice?”

“They’re just dying on their own…?”

“That’s right. Sir Gradim has made his decision. They shall all now face a great trial!”

Baraga gave Gabil a loud, hearty laugh. The maniacal laughter echoed across the battlefield, chilling the hearts of all who heard it. And Gabil, too, was horrified by what he saw. Now, he realized, something terrible was happening.

Gradim, the Beast King, had issued a command—the very highest level of secret orders.

“All troops, listen! Zamdo has informed me that His Excellency is in danger, and our treacherous enemies have also summoned a legion of evil demons. Their strength is unknown, but we estimate that it’s more than you can currently handle. If nothing is done, we are likely to take severe casualties. Thus I have decided to tap into our last resort. You must offer to us your courage and your loyalty. Activate the final trump card I have given you—for then you will gain the power to defeat the demons!”

He had given the order to his Three Generals first, followed by the rest of his troops.

The drugs, their energizers for when all hope was lost, had been distributed to them all in pill form. Their use was heavily restricted, however—they couldn’t be touched without an order from Gradim, their commander. That came in the secret orders provided just now.

Hmph! Succeed in this, and you will gain immense power—and sometimes, you will survive with only a few side effects. Do not hate me for this… Hate yourself for your failure to adapt!

Such were Gradim’s inner feelings. He was an almost refreshingly self-centered man, hardly hesitating to order his troops to die. It was a coldhearted decision, but it was also true that the demons were likely to overrun them otherwise. He was asking his soldiers to bet their lives on gaining untold power, but it was, when seen from the correct angle, the right thing to do.

The soldiers promptly carried out their commands. They hadn’t been informed of what the pills did, exactly, so there was no hesitation. Thus they all invoked the forbidden medical skill The Beast on themselves without even realizing what they had done.

The effects of this slowly poured over the bodies of the Magical Beast Division troops. It was still mid-battle, so the effect wasn’t very obvious at first—but as time passed, things grew more apparent fast.

The ground was filled with corpses—the sight Gabil had just laid eyes on.

Already, a number of berserk troops were running for the front lines. Team Kurenai, Team Hiryu, the Beast Master’s Warrior Alliance, and the Heaven Fliers were all forced to fight hard against them.

But there were also those confused and bewildered—but not defeated—by the changes within themselves. Those were the true warriors Gradim sought out.

Ten thousand immediately died.

Five thousand five hundred were completely, irreversibly transformed into magical beasts.

Five thousand made the transformation, only to lose all reason and go berserk.

Five thousand transformed into a human-beast form, also going berserk.

Four thousand became Beast Warriors imbued with animal powers.

And four hundred awoke as Chimera Knights.

It was fortuitous for Gradim that the probabilities worked out pretty much as he had anticipated. There was ample reason to believe the results would’ve turned out much worse, given the relatively small group of test subjects.

The Magical Beast Division, as a result of this, was now much smaller than it used to be. However, its power as an army had skyrocketed.

The berserk members of the Division promptly met their end. They had some value as decoys, but once they lost their minds, there was really no going back; Gradim was mentally prepared to write them off without regrets. Among the survivors, half—around ten thousand—could still retain their intelligence as they fought. That was a little more than Gradim expected, and while more than half of them could never return to human form again, they were a valuable fighting force. Gradim was satisfied enough with that.

But most of all, they now had four hundred Chimera Knights—and with them, they would never lose to anyone again. Brooding over this, Gradim nodded in satisfaction. Still, it was too early to relax. It took a long time to reach these results, but they still needed to reorganize their forces on the field. He wanted to take personal command, but unfortunately there was an obstacle in his way—Carillon.

For now, he’d have to rely on his Three Generals. Baraga the Azure Dragon was fighting Gabil; Nazim the Vermilion Bird was in fierce combat with Frey. That left only Gozaline the Black Tortoise.

(Gozaline, reform our forces at once!)

(Ee-hee-hee-hee-hee! Very well. I am delighted to see the results were even greater than expected.)

(Indeed. Get to work at once!)

A quick telepathic message was all it took. They really should have closed their ranks while they had ten thousand berserk half-beast decoys running around—but at least Gozaline was safe, which relieved Gradim greatly. As selfish as he was, he still trusted those he deemed worthy enough.

“Ha! Too focused on your troops to bother with me, eh?”

“Of course. I command an army, you realize. I am not a wild beast.”

“And you just commanded most of them to die, didn’t you? Don’t make me laugh.”

“That is the nature of war, you fool. If you cannot make a similar commitment, you never deserved to rule our land. And did I hear that you were kicked off your demon-lord throne by a newcomer? I feel sorry for the men and women who served someone as powerless as you!”

“Shut up!!”

Carillon slashed at Gradim in anger—but there was too much impatient urgency in his attack. Much as he never wanted to believe it, Gradim had grown far stronger than he expected.

“Whoa, that attack won’t do much. You barely look like you’re jogging toward me in my eyes.”

With that lighthearted remark, Gradim moved behind Carillon, a set of large claws equipped on his right hand. These were his White Tiger Claws, each emitting a silvery-white sheen; a God-class weapon both named after him and lent to him by the emperor. He had since transformed them by his own will, and being God-class, they could slice through any opponent—even spiritual life-forms. Given Gradim’s near-divine speed, they were an excellent match for his fighting style.

So Gradim used his well-honed footwork to keep Carillon at his mercy. Even the Legend-class armor protecting Carillon was about as good as scrap metal against the White Tiger Claws.

“What’s wrong, huh? Didn’t you say you were going to kill me? Was that just a lot of big talk, or what?”

“Ah, shut up. Tsk… I thought it’d be easier to kill you, but this ain’t goin’ at all like I thought…”

Carillon, too, had grown much stronger—all that training with Milim had done wonders for him. It allowed him to continue fighting this bout without taking a lethal blow. In a way, Gradim was even more surprised about that. Any difference in weapon strength had a direct correlation to overall battle strength, and he assumed that difference would end the fight a lot sooner than now. The two were very similar, including in their abilities. But while Carillon had an advantage in latent strength, Gradim had the edge in weaponry—and overall, that gave him a leg up.

Gradim, clearly understanding this, moved to finish off Carillon while ensuring he kept himself protected. But then, at that moment, something happened that Gradim never could’ve predicted.

“What? I’m…surging with power…!!”

This was the sign of an oncoming evolution—the start of his own Harvest Festival, the progression to demon lord-dom. But awakening under these conditions posed a major challenge for Gradim.

“Why am I…so tired…?”

He was already unsteady on his feet. Carillon, not one to miss this opportunity, fled from danger and recomposed himself.

“What’s the matter? Exhausted already?”

Then he observed Gradim more closely. Something was clearly happening—but was it good or bad for him? Gradim was clearly gaining power—that was visible enough to anyone watching him. Magicules were swarming around him, an enormous aura flowing out from his body. But Gradim himself seemed barely able to stay on his feet now.

What’s going on? This isn’t that “awakening” thing, is it?

Carillon suddenly recalled a story he’d heard recently. At Rimuru’s victory party, according to the tale, he held an evolution ceremony on his officers—but some of them were so stricken by irresistible fatigue that they had to leave the event early.

You have to go to sleep for a while on the way to becoming a true demon lord, right? And that’s exactly what’s happening to this guy!

The Beast Master was no dunce, but he wasn’t the most quick-witted person in the world, either. Right now, however, he was demonstrating great insight—perhaps the life-threatening situation was sharpening his brain a bit.

Frey suggested that evolution requires a certain number of souls…and Gradim’s troops are dying by the thousands around us, ain’t they?

Indeed, the conditions were in place. Ascending to a true demon lord requires a large quantity of hate-driven souls. Not all of them bore a grudge against Gradim, of course, but enduring all the hatred of those you have killed was one of the trials required for the awakening. This was happening to Gradim right now, in the middle of an intense battle, and he was completely defenseless. It was simple cause and effect, really. The soldiers who trusted Gradim must have felt terribly betrayed, their souls marred by hatred toward their commander.

Carillon couldn’t read the situation that far, but he still judged it as both a great crisis and a great opportunity.

“Guess heaven’s on my side after all.”

“W-wait! Wait a minute…”

“It’s always been about you your whole life, hasn’t it? Time to pay for that.”

“No! Think calmly about it a moment. You may call yourself the strongest only if you beat me when I’m in perfect condition. This will be nothing but a half-hearted victory for you. You will rue it the rest of your life!”

Gradim was deeply concerned. Failure to act right now would assuredly kill him…but he was racked by fatigue he could do nothing about. It was all so unexpected that he couldn’t think of any measures to take against it. He turned toward his dependable generals—but Baraga and Nazim were locked in fierce combat, and while Gozaline was merely reorganizing troops, the onslaught she faced from Rimuru’s forces meant that she couldn’t just run to Gradim’s aid.

At that very moment, nobody could help him. He fell to his knees.

God…damn it…! I finally made it here… One more step and I would attain ultimate power…

He could feel that power erupting within him—and an equally strong sleepiness that it was futile to resist. Once he awakened, he could defeat even Velgrynd. He could picture it already…but reality was much crueler to him. If not even Rimuru could resist this ordeal, there was no reason why Gradim could.

Now his face was a muddle of tears and frustration.

“This… You can’t do this…! You can’t, damn it…!!”

With that final shout, Gradim fell asleep. And if a would-be demon lord failed to survive this ordeal…they faced death.

“Well, ain’t you lucky! You get to have a nice, peaceful death in your sleep. So long, then! Beast Roar!!”

Carillon was not one to show mercy at a time like this. Maybe it’d be a different story if he still saw himself as an almighty demon lord, but now he was just the commander of an army. He had come to reinforce his allies, and so it was only natural that he’d place victory above his own pride.

Thus a man burning with ambition, one just a single step away from reaching even greater heights, was defeated by Carillon.