「 ✦ Rimuru Tempest ✦ 」
Half a day into our trek through the Sea of Trees, and I was having the time of my life.
"Oh wow, look at that!" I called out, pointing with my bound hands at a massive flower that was currently devouring what looked like a deer-sized creature. "That thing's got to be at least thirty feet across! The petals have these incredible serrated edges, and look how the nectar actually glows—is that bioluminescence or some kind of magical property?"
The wolf leader—who I'd learned was named Gahard—shot me another irritated look. "Be quiet, human. Your constant chatter will attract predators."
"But this place is incredible!" I continued, completely ignoring his warning as we passed a grove of trees whose bark seemed to be breathing. "I mean, the biodiversity here is off the charts! Anywhere else, you'd never see carnivorous plants this size, and these insects—" I gestured excitedly at a butterfly with wings the size of dinner plates, "—they're absolutely massive!"
"That's because this place is a death trap," muttered one of the bear-beastmen. "Only an idiot would be excited about it."
"A beautiful death trap though," I said cheerfully. "I bet you guys have some amazing stories about growing up here. Like, what's the biggest predator you've ever seen?"
The catgirl I'd injured—Zara, as I'd learned—winced as she adjusted her splinted wrist. Despite my attempts at apology and conversation, she'd been giving me the cold shoulder all morning.
"Listen, Zara," I said, falling into step beside her, "I really am sorry about your wrist. I didn't mean to hurt you that badly. You were just moving so fast, and my reflexes kind of... well, you know."
She glanced away, her orange ears flattening against her head. "Don't talk to me, human."
"Aw, come on. You're way too pretty to stay angry forever." I gave her my most charming smile. "Besides, I could take a look at that wrist if you want. I'm pretty good with healing."
"I said don't—"
"QUIET!" Gahard's voice cut through our conversation like a blade. Everyone froze as he held up a clenched fist. "Something's coming."
The forest around us had gone dead silent. Even the constant buzz of oversized insects had stopped. Through the thick canopy above, something was moving—something big enough to block out patches of sunlight.
"This place really is too big," I commented thoughtfully. "I mean, what kind of ecosystem can support creatures of this size? The energy requirements alone must be—"
"Shut UP!" hissed one of the scouts, a lynx-beastman with spotted fur. "Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to make noise when—"
The ground beneath us began to vibrate. Then shake. Then downright tremble as whatever was approaching got closer.
"Oh," I said, suddenly understanding their concern. "That's... that's pretty big, isn't it?"
What emerged from between the massive tree trunks wasn't just big—it was colossal. A centipede that had to be at least a hundred feet long, each of its segments armored in chitinous plates that gleamed like black metal. Its mandibles clicked together with sounds like sword strikes, and the hundred-plus legs made a sound like rainfall as they carried it forward.
"Train-sized centipede," I noted with genuine appreciation. "That's new."
"Scatter formation!" Gahard barked, but before anyone could move, something even worse happened.
Another vibration, this one from above. A shadow fell over us as something dropped from the canopy—a serpent so massive it could have wrapped around a city block. Its scales were each the size of shields, and its head was easily as big as a small building.
"Titanoboa," breathed one of the younger beastmen. "We're dead."
The snake's yellow eyes, each larger than I was, fixed on our group with predatory intelligence. Its mouth began to open, revealing fangs like spears and a throat that could swallow our entire party without effort.
The beastmen were already reaching for their weapons, but facing something that size, what could they really do?
"You know," I said conversationally, even as the massive head descended toward us, "this is exactly the kind of situation where being tied up becomes really inconvenient."
The Titanoboa's strike came faster than something that size had any right to move. Its jaws opened wide enough to engulf all of us in a single bite.
I sighed and flexed my wrists slightly.
The ropes binding my hands disintegrated. Before anyone could blink, I was moving, my hand cutting through the air in a simple horizontal slash.
There was a sound like wind, then silence.
The Titanoboa's massive head slid sideways and hit the ground with a thud that shook the entire forest. Its body, still coiled around several trees, twitched once and went still. The cut was so clean you could see the individual scales along the severed edge.
I brushed my hands off and looked around at the stunned faces surrounding me.
"…Sorry about the ropes," I said sheepishly. "I'll pay for new ones."
The silence stretched on for several more seconds before Zara spoke up, her voice barely above a whisper.
"What... what are you?"
I grinned and held up my hands in a peaceful gesture. "Just a guy who's really excited to see your city. Now, about that centipede—should we be worried about it, or...?"
As if summoned by my words, the massive arthropod came into view, took one look at the severed snake head, and very sensibly decided to find somewhere else to be.
"Right then," Gahard said after another long moment, his voice carefully controlled. "Let's... let's keep moving."
As we resumed our journey, I noticed the atmosphere had shifted considerably. Instead of treating me like a dangerous prisoner, they were now treating me like something they weren't quite sure how to handle. Which was probably closer to the truth, honestly.
"So," I said to Zara as we walked, "about that healing magic..."
This time, she didn't tell me not to talk to her. Progress!
By the time night came, I'd managed to heal Zara's wrist completely, learned the names of half the patrol, and gotten at least three of them to crack smiles at my terrible jokes about oversized forest creatures.
"Hey, so," Zara said as we approached the gates, flexing her newly healed hand, "you're not what I expected from a human."
"I get that a lot," I replied with a grin. "So, think they'll let me see the sights before the whole imprisonment and execution thing?"
She actually laughed at that, a sound like silver bells that made her even more attractive than before.
"We'll see," she said, and I caught her stealing another glance at me when she thought I wasn't looking.
Yeah, this was definitely turning out to be more fun than I'd expected.
··—–—⚜—–—···
Gahard called for us to make camp. They'd bound my hands again shortly after the Titanoboa incident—couldn't blame them for being cautious, I suppose.
The campfire crackled pleasantly as we settled around it, the orange light dancing across everyone's faces. The forest around us had taken on that twilight quality where everything seemed both peaceful and ominous at the same time.
"So," I said, breaking the comfortable silence, "that thing earlier got me thinking. How often do you guys run into stuff like that Titanoboa out here?"
Gahard poked at the fire with a stick, sending sparks spiraling up into the darkening sky. "Often enough. This forest doesn't forgive the careless."
"Must make for some interesting childhood stories," I said with a grin.
"You could say that," Zara replied, flexing her healed wrist. "My first hunt, I got chased up a tree by something that looked like a cross between a bear and a giant spider. Stayed up there for six hours."
"Six hours?" I laughed. "What finally got you down?"
"My older brother showed up and scared it off. I was so embarrassed."
"That's nothing," chimed in one of the younger beastmen. "Kael here once tried to befriend a baby wyvern thinking it was just a big lizard."
Kael's ears flattened. "I was eight, and it was dark!"
"What happened?" I asked, genuinely curious.
"I'd prefer not to comment," Kael muttered.
The conversation flowed more naturally after that. Stories about hunts gone wrong, close calls with massive predators, the time someone accidentally disturbed a nest of those train-sized centipedes and had to hide in a cave for three days.
"What about where you're from?" Gahard asked eventually. "You fight like you've seen your share of dangerous creatures."
"Yeah, we've got our own monsters back home," I said carefully. "Different types though."
"Different how?" Zara asked, leaning forward with interest.
"It's always one prehistoric thing keeping another prehistoric thing in check. They go round and round and ultimately arrive nowhere."
"I can't make sense of that," one of the bear-beastmen said.
"You get used to it. Though I have to say, your forest here is something else. You've got things that could probably eat buildings."
"The forest shapes us," Gahard said philosophically. "We adapt or we die."
The night wore on, and I found myself actually enjoying the conversation. These weren't just hostile captors anymore—they were people with their own stories, their own struggles. It felt genuine. Maybe too genuine, in fact.
I'd been half-listening to a story about someone's embarrassing encounter with a carnivorous tree when something made me pause. A tiny detail that didn't quite fit.
Hm?
Zara had just mentioned getting her scar from a "rock viper" when she was twelve. Normal enough story. Except... two hours ago, during our earlier conversation on the trail, she'd told me the exact same scar came from falling off a cliff when she was ten.
I glanced around the circle, paying closer attention now. Kael was telling a story about his first successful hunt, describing the terrain in vivid detail. But earlier, he'd mentioned never having been to that particular part of the forest.
Little things.
Tiny inconsistencies that individually meant nothing, but together...
Then I noticed something that made my blood run cold.
None of them were breathing in sync with their speech.
I watched Gahard tell a story about tracking a massive boar through the underbrush. His chest rose and fell in a steady beat that had nothing to do with the words coming out of his mouth. Like someone had created the breathing pattern separately and just... overlaid it.
My eyes darted to the others. Same thing. All of them had that same artificial breathing pattern, like a recording playing on loop.
But what really got to me was the fire.
I'd been staring into it on and off all evening, watching the flames dance and flicker. Normal fire behavior. Except now that I was really looking, I realized the shadows on everyone's faces hadn't changed position once in the last hour. The flames were moving, but the light was static.
The wrongness of it hit me like a dump truck. Everything looked fine, sounded fine, felt fine. But it was all just a little bit off, like a photograph that was almost but not quite in focus.
"So," I said casually, my voice steady despite the chill running down my spine, "gods among men hold true for this world, too."
The effect was immediate and horrifying. Every single one of them stopped mid-motion—Gahard with his stick halfway to the fire, Zara with her mouth open to respond, Kael frozen in the act of reaching for his water pouch.
They didn't tense up or look confused. They just stopped. Like marionettes with their strings cut. Their eyes stared ahead at nothing, unblinking as always, but now completely vacant.
The fire kept crackling. The insects kept chirping. But the people around me had become perfect statues, caught in the exact moment I'd spoken those words.
"Took me a while to notice," I said conversationally, ignoring their frozen expressions, "and even a moment longer to believe it. But damn, you're good."
The illusions flickered once, then dissolved like smoke. The campfire, the clearing, even the ropes around my wrists—all of it faded away until I was standing alone in a small grove bathed in moonlight.
"I was wondering when you'd figure it out."
The voice was feminine, melodious, and came from directly behind me. I turned slowly, keeping my expression neutral despite the warning bells going off in my head.
What I saw made me forget how to breathe for just a moment.
She looked like she'd stepped out of a gothic fairy tale—a young woman, maybe late teens in appearance, with obsidian hair that seemed to absorb the moonlight and deep forest-green eyes. Her dress was elegant and dark, and it was absolutely fabulous.
She was, without question, the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. Also probably one of the most dangerous.
<
Yeah, I can feel that much myself.
I straightened up, my own aura settling around me—not aggressive, but making it clear I wasn't just some wandering human. If she wanted to dance, I could at least make it interesting.
"So," I said, keeping my tone conversational, "should I be impressed or worried that someone went to all this trouble for little old me?"
Her smile widened, revealing perfect white teeth. "Why not both? I'm Hel, by the way. Though I suspect you've already figured out what I am."
"A goddess, presumably. The death part was a nice touch with the whole puppet show."
"You liked that? I thought it was rather creative myself." She took a step closer, and I caught a scent of something like winter wind and dark flowers. Pleasant enough smell, if I do say so myself. "Walk with me?"
It wasn't really a request. I gestured for her to lead the way, keeping my senses alert for any sign of hostile intent.
As we began walking through the moonlit forest, I felt our auras expand outward simultaneously—an unspoken agreement to keep the local wildlife from interrupting our conversation. Every creature within a considerable radius suddenly remembered they had urgent business elsewhere.
"You see," she said as we strolled between the massive trees, "most mortals either grovel or run screaming when they meet me. You're remarkably composed."
"Well, you're remarkably beautiful," I replied smoothly. "Guess we're both full of surprises."
She actually laughed at that, a sound like distant music. "Now that's new. Usually I only get prayers or curses."
"What can I say? I'm an honest man."
"Yes. You certainly are." Her green eyes studied me with obvious interest. "So what do you think of humanity?"
"That's quite a topic jump."
"Humor me. I find mortal perspectives amusing."
I considered my words carefully, thinking back to an awful lot of experience. "Well, I think humans are complicated. They're capable of incredible kindness and unspeakable cruelty, sometimes in the same breath. Used to think there was inherent good in everyone, but... experience has taught me it's more situational than that."
"Situational?"
"People adapt to their circumstances. Put someone in a desperate situation, and they might surprise you—for better or worse. Context matters more than I used to believe."
She nodded thoughtfully. "An interesting perspective. More nuanced than most."
"What about you? What's a goddess's take on humanity?"
"They're children," she said without hesitation. "Brilliant, destructive children who can't help but make messes they can't clean up. Left to their own devices, they'll inevitably destroy themselves and everything around them."
"That sounds so gloomy and edgy."
"Realistic," she corrected. "The pattern never changes—growth, prosperity, corruption, collapse. It's almost clockwork."
That actually makes sense, I thought to myself.
"So what's the solution? Lock them all in cages?"
"Guidance," she said, and there was something sharp in her smile now. "Strong guidance. They need someone to make the hard decisions for them, to protect them from their own worst impulses."
"Even if they don't want that protection?"
"Especially then." She glanced at me sideways. "You disagree?"
"I think people deserve the right to make their own mistakes. Growth comes from learning, not from being controlled."
"You're unbearably naive."
"Well," I chuckled to myself, looking her straight in the eye. "I was born two years ago."
We'd stopped walking, and I realized we were now facing each other in a small clearing. The moonlight made her pale skin seem to glow, and those forest-green eyes held depths I couldn't begin to fathom.
"…You'd best be careful with me," she said softly, though she was still smiling.
"Right. Though I have to wonder—if mortals are such children, what does that make us?"
"Us?" Her eyebrow arched elegantly.
"Well, I'm assuming you didn't mistake me for human."
"No, I certainly didn't." She began walking again, and I fell into step beside her. "You're something much more interesting. The question is, what exactly?"
"I appreciate aesthetics and a good chat, for one."
"Hm. That's flattering," she said again, but she seemed pleased. "You know, if more beings had your mindset, the world might be a more interesting place."
"Diplomacy is just another word for creative problem-solving."
"Is that what this is? Problem-solving?"
I met her gaze directly. "Depends on whether you're planning to be a problem."
The threat was subtle, wrapped in humor, but it was there. Her smile became something sharper, more predatory.
"Only if you give me reason to be," she replied sweetly.
We walked in comfortable silence for a while after that, two potentially dangerous beings enjoying a pleasant evening stroll while silently measuring each other's capabilities. It was probably the most civilized standoff I'd ever participated in.
"You're really not what I expected," she said eventually.
"Oh yeah? What were you expecting?"
"Someone more straightforward. The strong that I meet are either completely ruthless or insufferably self-righteous. You're neither."
"I'm more cute and even more flexible."
"Flexible…," she mused. "Yes, I can see that. It's rather attractive, actually."
Is she...?
"Hey, now, goddess. A guy might get the wrong idea."
"Who says it would be wrong?" Her smile was definitely flirtatious now. "It's been ages since I met someone who could hold an actual talk. Everyone either bores me or annoys me."
"Haha, that's inflating my ego."
"Don't let it go to your head."
"Whatever."
We'd been walking for what felt like hours, though the moon hadn't moved noticeably. Time probably worked differently when you were strolling with a goddess, though it was probably just my imagination.
"I suppose I should let you get back to whatever you were doing," she said eventually, though she didn't sound particularly eager to end our conversation.
"Probably for the best. This has been enlightening."
"Hasn't it?" She stopped and turned to face me one more time. "You know, I don't often say this, but I genuinely enjoyed our little chat."
"Likewise. You're not at all what I expected from a death goddess."
"I get that a lot. I'm full of surprises." She stepped closer, close enough that I could smell that winter-and-flowers scent again. "Until next time, darling."
"Looking forward to it."
She laughed once more, reached out to touch my cheek briefly with fingers that felt like cool silk, and then she was simply gone. Not fading away or walking into shadow—just gone, like she'd never been there at all.
I stood alone in the moonlit forest, listening to the gradual return of normal forest sounds as the wildlife decided it was safe to resume their activities.
Well, that was... intense.
<
Challenging is putting it mildly. Still, not impossible...
I sighed and looked around at the empty forest. My plans to visit Verbergen would definitely have to wait now—no telling what other surprises might be waiting for me. Plus, after an encounter like that, I needed some time to process.
The so-called gods of this world were more hands-on than I'd expected. And apparently, at least one of them found me interesting enough to warrant personal attention. Whether her interest was a good thing or a very bad thing remained to be seen.
I spread my wings and took to the sky, leaving the Sea of Trees behind. But I couldn't shake the image of those forest-green eyes and that dangerously beautiful smile.
Nerve-wrackingly gorgeous didn't even begin to cover it. The woman was absolutely stunning, and she knew it too. The way she'd touched my cheek before disappearing...
I shook my head, trying to focus on more practical concerns. But damn if I wasn't looking forward to seeing her again, despite knowing how dangerous that was.