While Rimuru Tempest stood in the grand library of the Free Guild in Blumund, teaching a group of wide-eyed children how to control their magic with calm and care, something darker was brewing across the western plains.
Laughter echoed from the classroom as Alice made a small bubble float in the air.
"Rimuru-sensei! I did it!"
Rimuru smiled, patting her head. "That's it, keep your mind calm. Magic is like breathing. If you panic, it panics."
Everything seemed peaceful.
But peace was never meant to last.
The royal court of Falmuth was filled with whispers and tension. The great hall was dimly lit by stained glass windows. Flickering torchlight bounced off the polished marble floors. At the center, seated on an ivory throne, was King Edmaris Jistav, his crown resting heavily on his brow, but a wicked spark danced behind his aging eyes.
"Tempest," he muttered, his voice like oil in water. "They've grown too quickly. Too strong. Too free."
One of the King's close entourage—a royal magus draped in navy robes covered with gold runes—stepped forward and bowed deeply.
"My King," he said, his voice slithering like a snake, "I have completed the spell you requested."
The court grew silent.
"Spell?" the King leaned forward, intrigued.
"Yes… a magic field. Designed specifically to weaken monsters. It saps their energy—drains their skills slowly the moment they step within its range. It will turn even the strongest ogre into a weak goblin."
Edmaris chuckled. A low, greedy sound.
"And you're sure it works?"
The mage nodded confidently. "It's already been tested on captured beastmen. Instant collapse."
The King grinned wider.
"Good… good. Then it is time. We shall break Tempest."
From the corner of the hall, the silver-armored knight commander stepped into the candlelight.
Folgen, Commander of the Royal Knights, stood tall and silent, his expression cold and calculating.
"But, Your Majesty," Folgen said, "We cannot simply attack them. The Western Nations would never allow such an unprovoked war. We must make them look like the villains."
The King raised a brow. "And what do you suggest?"
Folgen smirked.
"Send our three little toys… Shogo, Kyoya, and Kiara. They're expendable. They were summoned here to serve, and they'll play their role well."
The King leaned back, considering.
"You want to send them into Tempest?"
"Yes. Let them cause a scene. Let them get 'attacked' by monsters. Make it look like Tempest violated the peace."
One of the court ministers gasped. "But won't Rimuru deny it?"
"Of course he will," Folgen said. "But once word spreads, once the Holy Church hears about humans being harmed by monsters… Hinata Sakaguchi will act. She needs only a sliver of justification. And when she attacks, the rest of the West will follow."
The room fell quiet for a moment.
Then the King spoke with a devilish grin.
"Do it. Let Tempest burn."
In a dark, underground chamber lined with stone and chains, three figures sat quietly.
Shogo Taguchi, dressed in black leather armor, cracked his knuckles and leaned against the wall, a hungry grin on his face.
Kyoya Tachibana, sword on his lap, eyes closed like a coiled snake.
And Kiara Mizutani, the only one smiling sweetly while sharpening a dagger that glowed with venomous light.
Folgen entered, flanked by two knights. The heavy door creaked behind him.
"You have a mission."
Shogo raised an eyebrow. "Finally something to do. What is it this time? Assassination? Destruction?"
"No," Folgen said calmly. "You will go to Tempest. As ambassadors."
Kyoya laughed quietly. "We're not exactly diplomatic types."
"You're going to pretend," Folgen continued. "And then… you'll get 'attacked' by monsters. Scream. Bleed a little. Make a scene. Then come back."
Shogo stood, cracking his neck.
"And if we don't?"
"Then I'll personally feed your corpses to the pigs. You're still here because you're useful. Stay useful."
Kiara stood up and smiled wider. "Sounds fun. I've always liked playing the victim."
Folgen's gaze darkened.
"Don't overdo it. You're there to spark the war. Not start it early. Understood?"
The three nodded, devilish smiles painting their faces.
As Rimuru continued teaching the children in Blumund, news from Tempest would soon arrive—about visitors from Falmuth requesting entrance.
Little would Rimuru know that those visitors were harbingers of deceit. That a carefully planned lie was already weaving itself into history.
The game of thrones and blades had begun.
And somewhere, in the deepest shadows of the West, Clayman laughed.
"Dance, little slime. Dance while you still can."
After Leon Cromwell was defeated by the hands of Yujiro Hanma, the very foundation of his pride crumbled beneath him.
The radiant Demon Lord of El Dorado—the bearer of an Ultimate Skill, a being who had stood toe-to-toe with gods and monsters alike—had been brought to his knees. Not by magic. Not by superior skill. But by something primal, raw, and utterly indomitable.
Pure strength.
For days, Leon had sat in silence. Not in meditation, not in training—but in reflection. He replayed the fight over and over in his mind: how Yujiro never used a single spell, how each punch carried the weight of worlds, how his very presence twisted the air, and how nothing Leon did mattered.
Finally, with clenched fists and a storm inside his heart, he rose and made a decision.
"If the rumors are true... if Guy Crimson and Velzard also fell to him… I have to know. I have to see it in their eyes."
He departed El Dorado under heavy clouds, telling only Claude and Alrose of his journey.
"You're going to the Ice Continent?" Alrose asked, confused.
"To confront Guy?" Claude added, concerned.
Leon's expression was cold as steel.
"Not to confront. To confirm. If the Crimson King himself lost to Yujiro… then maybe everything we believe in is about to change."
The Ice Continent was merciless, as always. The winds howled like spirits in mourning. Shards of frozen air cut through even Leon's magical barriers. And yet, none of it slowed his pace.
He soon arrived at the towering fortress of Pandemonium, where Guy ruled—eternal and untouchable.
High above, on a balcony carved into the side of a glacier, Guy Crimson sat, legs crossed, sipping crimson wine. His eyes followed the shifting auroras in the sky. Velzard, calm and regal, sat beside him in silence, wrapped in her own thoughts.
Without looking, Guy spoke.
"Haven't felt that presence in a while... Leon Cromwell, the Golden Lord, huh? What brings you here?"
Leon stepped forward from the snow, his coat trailing ice. He gave a short bow.
"I've come for answers."
Velzard opened one eye, observing him.
"Answers to what?"
Leon clenched his jaw, choosing his words carefully.
"Is it true? Did... Yujiro Hanma defeat you?"
The name hung in the air like a blade.
Guy slowly turned, wine glass hovering mid-air. His eyes locked with Leon's.
"You mean Yujiro Hanma."
Leon gave a small nod.
Velzard's face darkened. Guy's smirk faded. Silence.
Then, Guy stood. He placed the glass down on the frost-covered table and faced Leon completely.
"Yes. He beat me. Beat Velzard. Velgrynd. Luminous. Even Milim. And if you believe the whispers, Veldora too."
Leon's eyes widened, his breath sharp in his throat.
"But how?! No magic? No Ultimate Skill? Nothing?"
Guy crossed his arms, staring at the swirling sky.
"Just fists. Just raw, unfiltered strength. Every strike felt like it could crush the concept of power itself. It wasn't just about hitting hard—it was deeper than that. Like he was stripping away our illusions. Our titles. Our ego. He made us feel small."
Velzard finally spoke, voice like cracking ice.
"He didn't just defeat us... he exposed us. Reminded us that for all our transcendence, we're still bound by limits. But he isn't."
Leon stepped forward, eyes burning with confusion and denial.
"Why? What is he? What does he want?"
Guy tilted his head, thoughtful now.
"That's the question, isn't it? He doesn't want thrones. Doesn't crave power. Doesn't even care for recognition. He just exists. But... maybe that's not the point."
He looked Leon in the eye.
"Maybe Yujiro is here to remind us what real strength is. Not skills. Not titles. Not systems or divine tools. Just the pure will to stand unshaken."
He turned back to the frozen sky, voice low but thunderous in weight.
"Or maybe... he's preparing us. Because something's coming, Leon. Something we won't be able to defeat with our magic or our skills. And Yujiro... is the world's warning shot."
Leon went silent. His chest tightened.
"I couldn't even scratch him…" he whispered.
Guy smiled, this time with no arrogance—just respect.
"Neither could I. But you came here. That means you're ready to understand. Not everyone gets a second chance after defeat... but maybe now, we learn. Before it's too late."
Velzard rose beside Guy.
"Grow, Leon. Evolve. Because next time, it won't be Yujiro who challenges us. It'll be something worse. And if we don't change... we'll fall."
Leon slowly nodded.
"Then I'll start again. I'll rebuild my power—not as a symbol, but as something real. I see it now."
As the blizzard howled around them, the three stood united in understanding.