「 ✦ Shizuku Yaegashi ✦ 」
"Oh, we're fucked," I muttered under my breath.
The temperature in the ballroom had plummeted so suddenly that my breath came out in visible puffs. Around me, nobles were either fainting or backing away in terror, their elaborate gowns and formal wear suddenly seeming as flimsy as paper against the suffocating presence that Rimuru was radiating.
A presence that signaled an apocalypse.
I'd trained with him. I'd fought alongside him. I thought I understood what he was capable of, and I was wrong. If he wanted to, he could erase this entire city. I understood their concern by then. Even I'd be troubled if I accidentally misplaced a fifty-megaton nuke, but that didn't mean this procedure was acceptable nor understandable.
Back to the point.
The Rimuru I see now wasn't the patient, slightly sarcastic adventurer who'd helped us before and taught me better sword techniques. This was something else entirely, wearing Rimuru's face like a mask that was finally slipping. The king's voice cracked as he stammered out the words that would damn us all.
"K-kill... kill the demon!"
No, no, no—
Two of the Crimson Knights moved with inhuman speed, their blessed blades cutting through the air in perfect synchronization. I watched in slow motion as both weapons pierced straight through Rimuru's torso, the sanctified steel designed to cut through any demonic defense.
But there was no blood.
Not a single drop stained his expensive suit. The blades had gone completely through him, yet he stood there as if nothing had happened, still gently stroking Daisy's fur with that same tender expression he always wore when comforting his cat.
"Screw it," he said quietly.
Then everything went to hell.
Rimuru's hand moved faster than my eyes could track. The tip of the first knight's blade simply... ceased to exist, broken off. Before the knight could even register what had happened, Rimuru's other hand shot forward, fingers somehow piercing through the reinforced helmet of the second knight like it was made of paper. I heard the wet sound of an eye being destroyed, followed immediately by a sickening crack as Rimuru twisted the first knight's neck with impossible speed.
Both Crimson Knights—elite warriors who could single-handedly clear Gold-rank subjugation quests—dropped to the floor.
The silence that followed was deafening. Even the Pope's mouth hung open in shock.
Then Rimuru did something that made my blood freeze. He raised his hand, and Daisy was suddenly encased in a shimmering, translucent barrier, floating gently above the carnage as if suspended by invisible strings. The cat looked completely calm, purring softly as she drifted in her protective bubble.
The care he showed for that small creature, even in the middle of this nightmare, somehow made everything infinitely more nerve-wracking.
"Support the crimson guard!" one of the Templars shouted, raising his staff. Golden light erupted from multiple points around the ballroom as the remaining support casters began weaving enhancement magic.
Five more Crimson Knights leaped into action, their movements now supernaturally enhanced by the temple's most powerful buffs. They moved like crimson lightning, attacking from multiple angles simultaneously with coordination that spoke of decades of training together.
It didn't matter.
There was no other word for it. As the enhanced knights closed in from all sides, he moved in ways that questioned physics. The first knight's strike—a devastating overhead blow enhanced with enough holy power to level a building—met empty air as Rimuru simply wasn't there anymore. Instead, he appeared behind the attacker, one hand placed on the knight's shoulder.
The knight's armor crumpled inward like tin foil.
The second and third knights attacked in perfect unison, their blessed blades carving through the space where Rimuru had been moments before. But he was already moving again, sliding between their weapons with impossible fluidity. His palm struck the second knight's chest, and I watched in horror as the man's reinforced breastplate simply ruptured into red paste.
The third knight lasted half a second longer before Rimuru's other hand found his throat.
The fourth knight tried to retreat, probably recognizing that this wasn't a fight they could win. Rimuru let him take exactly three steps before appearing directly in front of him. The knight's enhanced reflexes allowed him to bring his shield up just in time to block—
The shield, blessed by the High Templars and reinforced several folds, shattered like glass. The force of Rimuru's backhand sent the knight flying across the ballroom, where he struck a marble pillar with enough force to leave a crater.
The fifth knight, to his credit, didn't try to run. He raised his weapon—a two-handed blessed sword that glowed with divine power—and charged with a battle cry that echoed off the vaulted ceiling.
Rimuru caught the blade between two fingers.
The knight pulled with enhanced strength that could have moved boulders. The sword didn't budge. Slowly, almost gently, Rimuru began to squeeze. The blessed steel—forged in holy fire and tempered with angel's tears according to church doctrine—crumpled like wet paper.
Then Rimuru placed his free hand on the knight's forehead, and the man simply... stopped. No dramatic death, no final words. Just the cessation of all movement as whatever Rimuru had done severed the connection between the knight's consciousness and his body.
Five elite warriors, enhanced by the most powerful magic the church could provide, had lasted less than thirty seconds.
By the time the last knight fell, the holes in Rimuru's suit had completely regenerated, the fabric knitting itself back together as if the damage had never existed. He straightened his tie, still looking every inch the polite gentleman who'd arrived for a social gathering.
The remaining Crimson Knights—maybe two dozen of them—began forming up in a defensive line, but Rimuru had already lost interest in them. He turned his back on the entire assembled army and began walking toward the exit, Daisy floating serenely beside him in her protective barrier.
The crowd parted before him like water, nobles and dignitaries stumbling over themselves to get out of his path. Some were crying, others praying, and more than a few had simply collapsed from the shock of witnessing power that shouldn't exist in their ordered world.
As Rimuru reached the gates that served as the ballroom's main entrance, he paused. Without turning around, he spoke in that same conversational tone he'd maintained throughout the entire massacre.
"I really wanted to make friends," he said, and his voice carried clearly across the vast space despite its gentle volume. "Instead, you've reminded me why I prefer the company of monsters to humans. At least monsters are honest about what they are."
He glanced back over his shoulder, and for just a moment, his eyes met mine. I saw disappointment there—not anger, not hatred, but the profound sadness of someone who'd hoped for better and been proven wrong yet again.
I wanted to say something, to apologize, to explain that not all of us had wanted this. But the words died in my throat, because what could I possibly say that would matter now?
"I'll be leaving your kingdom," Rimuru continued, his gaze now fixed on King Eliheid, who sat frozen on his throne like a statue. "I suggest you don't try to follow me. I suggest you don't send armies after me. I suggest you forget I ever existed."
He turned back toward the gate, raising one hand almost casually.
"Oh, and one more thing," he added, almost as an afterthought. "You might want to invest in better doors."
Then he opened his palm, and the massive reinforced gates—each one weighing several tons and inscribed with protective wards—simply vanished along with the battlements nestled just outside. Not destroyed, not blasted apart. They just ceased to exist, devoured by whatever impossibility Rimuru carried within himself.
He walked through the empty archway with Daisy floating beside him, and just like that, he was gone.
The uproar that followed was immediate and devastating.
"What have you done?!" Lord Cambel, one of the more influential nobles, rounded on King Eliheid with fury I'd never seen from the usually composed man. "You invited that... that thing into our midst and tried to trap it?!"
"The Pope assured us—" the king began weakly, but he was cut off by a chorus of angry voices.
"The Pope is a fool!" Duchess Marianne's usually refined voice cracked with hysteria. "We could have all been killed! My children could have been orphaned because of this madness!"
"This was supposed to be a diplomatic gathering!" Baron Westfield was practically foaming at the mouth. "Not some deranged religious crusade!"
The nobles were turning on the royal family and church hierarchy with savage intensity, their terror transforming into rage now that the immediate threat was gone. I could see the kingdom's entire power structure fracturing in real-time as alliances dissolved and accusations flew.
Pope Ishtar tried to maintain his composure, raising his hands for calm. "My faithful, we must not lose sight of the greater good—"
"Greater good?!" Earl Blackwood's voice thundered across the ballroom. "You nearly started a war with something that could erase our entire kingdom!"
"He's right!" another voice shouted from the crowd. "What if it comes back? What if it decides we're all complicit?"
The arguments escalated rapidly, with various factions forming as the political implications of the night's disaster became clear. Some supported the church's actions, claiming the demon had to be stopped regardless of the cost. Others demanded accountability from the leadership that had orchestrated this trap. Still others were already talking about evacuation, convinced that Rimuru would return with an army of monsters to destroy them all.
Kaori was crying openly, Ryutarou looked like he wanted to punch something, and Suzu had gone completely silent. But it was Kouki who drew my attention—standing there with that same self-righteous expression, as if he still believed he'd done the right thing.
That's when something inside me snapped.
I marched across the ballroom, my dress shoes clicking against the marble. Kouki turned toward me with what looked like relief, probably expecting support from his childhood friend.
Instead, I slapped him across the face with every ounce of strength I possessed.
The sound echoed across the ballroom like a gunshot, and suddenly everyone was staring at us. Kouki staggered, his hand rising to his reddening cheek, shock written across his features.
"Shizuku?" he whispered. "What—"
"Shut up!" I snarled, and even I was surprised by the venom in my voice. "Just shut your goddamn mouth, Kouki!"
I felt hands grab my arms—Kaori and Ryutarou trying to restrain me—but I was beyond caring about appearances or propriety.
"You arrogant, self-centered piece of shit!" I screamed at him, struggling against my friends' grip. "Do you have any idea what you've done? Do you understand the number of people that could have died because of your fucking ego?"
"Shizuku, calm down!" Kaori pleaded, but I was done being calm.
"No!" I whirled on her briefly before turning back to Kouki. "I'm sick of being calm! I'm sick of making excuses for him! I'm sick of pretending his delusions are harmless!"
Kouki's face was cycling through confusion, hurt, and growing anger. "Delusions? Shizuku, I was protecting—"
"Protecting who?!" I cut him off savagely. "Protecting your image as the chosen hero?"
The truth was pouring out of me now, months of suppressed frustration and disappointment finally finding voice.
"That's what this was really about, wasn't it, Kouki? Not justice, not protecting people—you just couldn't stand the idea that Rimuru-san was better than you at everything that mattered. He was stronger, he was more capable, he actually helped people without needing recognition for it. And that ate you alive, didn't it?"
"That's not—" Kouki started, but I wasn't finished.
"He helped us when he didn't have to!" I continued, my voice cracking with emotion. "He trained me, he showed genuine care when no one else bothered to look past the 'Hero Party' label. And you repaid that kindness by helping orchestrate his execution!"
Kouki's face was hardening into that familiar expression of stubborn righteousness. "He was dangerous, Shizuku. You saw what he—"
"He was dangerous because you made him dangerous!" I shouted. "He came here hoping to make friends, hoping for a normal social interaction, and you turned it into a trap! He expected better from us and instead he got religious paranoia and your petty jealousy!"
The hands holding me back tightened as I strained forward, and I realized I probably would have broken Kouki's nose if they hadn't been restraining me. The thought should have shocked me, but instead I found myself wishing they'd let me do it.
"Shizuku..." Kouki's voice was smaller now, uncertain. "I thought... I thought you'd understand. We're supposed to be heroes—"
"Heroes don't let their insecurities drive them to condemn innocent people…" I spat. "Heroes don't side with corrupt authority figures because their ego can't handle someone being stronger than them!"
The fight went out of me suddenly, leaving me feeling hollow and exhausted. I stopped struggling against my friends' grip, but I kept my eyes locked on Kouki's face.
"You've been my friend since we were children," I said quietly, and somehow my whisper carried more weight than all my shouting had. "I've defended you, supported you, made excuses for your behavior for years. But there's a limit, Kouki. There's a limit to how much I can tolerate, how much I can forgive."
I took a shaky breath, feeling tears threatening at the corners of my eyes.
"And tonight... tonight you crossed that limit."
Kouki stared at me in silence, his face pale beneath the red handprint I'd left on his cheek. Around us, the political chaos continued to rage, but for this one moment, there was just the two of us and the ruins of a friendship that had defined most of my life.
"But you're so petty that I don't even know who you are anymore," I whispered, and those words hurt more than the slap had. "You're not the hero I believed in. You're not even the friend I grew up with."
I turned away from him then, unable to look at his face any longer. The ballroom around us was descending into complete chaos as the kingdom's entire power structure collapsed in real-time, but all I could think about was the disappointment in Rimuru's eyes when he'd looked at me.
He'd expected better from us. He'd come here with genuine hope for connection, for normalcy, and instead he'd been met with the same prejudice and fear that seemed to follow him everywhere. The disappointment in his eyes hadn't been personal betrayal; it had been the crushing of hope itself.
...…
A memory surfaced unbidden.
One of our training sessions from over a week ago. We'd been taking a break after a particularly grueling sword practice, sitting on a fallen log at the edge of the forest clearing. Rimuru had been unusually quiet, staring up at the canopy of leaves above us with that distant expression he sometimes wore.
"You know what's funny, Shizuku?" he'd said suddenly, his voice carrying an odd melancholy I'd rarely heard from him. "Back where I truly come from, I was just... ordinary. Completely, utterly ordinary. No one looked at me twice, no one expected anything special from me. I was invisible in the best possible way."
I'd glanced at him sideways, noting the way the dappled sunlight played across his features. Even then, I'd known there was something different about him—something not quite human. But I'd never said anything, content to let him maintain whatever illusion of normalcy he needed.
"Sometimes I miss that," he'd continued, his golden eyes still fixed on the sky. "Being able to just... live without people making assumptions about what I am or what I want. Someplace I know… and here, everyone's always looking for monsters, you know? Always waiting for something to reveal its true nature and prove their fears right."
He'd turned to look at me then, and there had been something vulnerable in his expression that made my chest ache.
"I keep hoping I'll find people who can see past all that fear and suspicion. People who judge based on actions rather than appearances or assumptions. It's probably naive, but..." He'd shrugged, offering a self-deprecating smile.
"Hope's a hard habit to break, even when it keeps getting crushed."
I'd wanted to tell him then that I already knew he wasn't human, that I didn't care, that his actions had already proven his character to me beyond any doubt. But something in his tone had suggested he wasn't ready for that conversation, so I'd simply nodded and squeezed his shoulder in what I'd hoped was reassurance.
Now, standing in the wreckage of the ballroom, I finally understood what he'd been trying to tell me.
...…
The worst part was that I knew he probably wouldn't even seek revenge for this. That wasn't who Rimuru was. He'd simply write off this entire kingdom, this entire experience, as another reminder of why he preferred the company of solitude to humans.
He'd leave, and we'd never see him again, and somehow that felt worse than if he had threatened retaliation.
I guess I have Daisy to thank for that.
And somewhere in the back of my mind, a terrible thought was beginning to form.
What if this was exactly what the Pope had wanted all along?
What if the entire point hadn't been to capture or kill Rimuru, but to drive him away, to ensure that someone with his power would never be an ally to this kingdom?
If so, then Kouki hadn't just failed as a hero tonight.
He'd helped destroy the possibility of something better for all of us.