The Holy Knights, Defeated!
The news spread like wildfire among the nations surrounding the Great Forest of Jura.
No matter how covert the invasion may have been, it was impossible to conceal it from everyone's eyes.
Above all, for nations with ties to the Monster Country, neglecting intelligence gathering was simply unthinkable.
Of course, Rimuru was well aware that every nation had deployed spies.
That was precisely why he had ordered his forces to secure victory while keeping the Holy Knights alive as much as possible.
The leaders of each nation arrived at this conclusion.
Above all, the fact that not a single casualty had occurred served as the evidence backing their judgment.
The Dwarf Kingdom—Armed Nation Dwargon.
Led by the Dwarf King, the ministers had assembled for a council.
They had analyzed the recorded footage, compiled detailed reports from the extracted data, and distributed copies to each minister.
Based on those documents, a report on the full account of the battle was being presented.
The results were staggering.
The Holy Knights—humanity's strongest warriors—had launched an assault with a force of one hundred.
However, Demon Lord Rimuru had known everything from the start, had prepared countermeasures, and the Holy Knights had been defeated.
What was truly terrifying was Demon Lord Rimuru's intelligence-gathering capability.
Even more so, perhaps, was his strategic planning ability born from that keen insight.
The ministers murmured among themselves, all voicing the same sentiment.
But was that really the case?
King
Could this have been less a planned annihilation and more a brute-force repulsion carried out on the fly?
The thought flickered through his mind.
Or rather, it was the only conclusion he could reach.
If the fighting had taken place at the locations where sabotage operations were supposedly carried out, then the plan would have gone as expected—but in reality, the battle sites bore no connection to those locations.
If so, then it could be concluded that Hinata had shifted the battlefield to avoid ambushes and traps, steering the situation to her advantage.
And yet, in the end, the Holy Knights had suffered a complete defeat at every single location.
It was regrettable that the magic used to store the recorded footage had its limits, making the situation difficult to decipher.
No sound had been captured—only visual snapshots of each shifting battlefield.
They had been unable to analyze the monsters' abilities at all, and simply determining who had won and lost was the best they could manage.
Even so, there was no doubt that this data held vital information.
Looking over the documents once more, the Holy Knights' captain-class leaders had attempted some form of tactical operation at each location. The executives of the Monster Country had moved to intercept them, leading to combat.
The result was a complete victory for the Monster Country's executives at every location.
Among the reports was the astonishing finding that one individual had overwhelmed eight Holy Knights single-handedly.
Considering that the captain-class leaders were included among them, one could only conclude that the Monster Country's total military strength surpassed even that of Armed Nation Dwargon.
Ignoring the clamoring ministers, Dwarf King Gazel Dwargo let out a sigh of relief.
He was relieved that Demon Lord Rimuru was a rational monster who desired friendly relations with human nations.
Had this Demon Lord been one who wished for humanity's extinction, mankind would have been exposed to an unprecedented threat.
(Seriously, his growth is far too rapid!)
It was his unvarnished, heartfelt opinion.
There had been something he sensed during their first audience, but he never imagined things would go this far.
Would it have been better to destroy him back then?
That question had no answer.
For better or worse, that Demon Lord was fascinating.
Moreover, they had now established a cooperative relationship and maintained friendly ties.
Above all, his former-otherworlder way of thinking and the forceful manner in which he pursued various developments were deeply intriguing.
Thanks to his financial resources and labor force, even ventures that other "otherworlders" would have abandoned were things the Demon Lord could push through by sheer might.
He was intensely curious about what the outcomes of these endeavors would be.
And if that town continued to develop and new technologies emerged, he would not hesitate to cooperate as a recipient.
That was his resolve.
Even if they were to be destroyed by angels, he would ensure those technologies were not lost.
It was true that it was growing into a terrifying military nation...
But more than that, what stirred his heart was the potential contribution to development and technological progress.
(At this point, there is nothing left but to trust that Demon Lord and move forward together!)
As for the Holy Knights this time, they had all been released unharmed.
This too suggested that Demon Lord Rimuru's goal was coexistence with human society.
If he had intended to be hostile, the Holy Knights should have all been killed.
No one would have faulted him for slaughtering an invading force.
Yet he had deliberately spared them and set them free.
And without a single injury.
What one could read from this was his confidence that Holy Knight-class warriors posed no threat whatsoever.
There were ministers raising alarms about the danger, and ministers arguing against those very concerns.
Perhaps both sides were right.
But the conclusion was singular.
He cleared his throat to gather everyone's attention.
Silence enveloped the council chamber as all eyes turned to him.
"As long as that Demon Lord desires coexistence with humanity, we shall cooperate to the fullest extent. That is the policy of Armed Nation Dwargon!"
Dwarf King Gazel Dwargo declared in a solemn voice that reverberated through the council chamber.
The ministers bowed their heads in unison, expressing their agreement.
With those words, the policy was decided. What remained was for capable individuals to begin deliberating the framework for cooperation.
Whether this decision was right or wrong, no one could say at this point.
However, King Gazel Dwargo harbored no regrets.
And then, another report was brought before him.
"Your Majesty, we have received a letter of invitation from Lord
"Oh, that matter! Vester has also filed a report! It seems that a martial tournament will be held in the Monster Country... apparently as entertainment during the Demon Lord's inauguration ceremony. What would you like to do? If you wish to attend, they said they would prepare seats. Incidentally, they were very thorough in noting that seating is limited and the event is expected to be crowded, so they requested a prompt response!"
It seemed that alongside the formal invitation, an inquiry from Vester had also arrived.
King Gazel Dwargo pondered for a moment.
(What on earth is that Demon Lord thinking, hosting a martial tournament...)
He couldn't fathom it at all.
And that was precisely what made him so fascinating.
King Gazel Dwargo struggled to suppress the urge to laugh bubbling up from the depths of his gut.
Maintaining his dignity before the ministers was no small effort.
(The nerve... setting a trap that puts me through this kind of torment... I must not underestimate him!)
Channeling that righteous indignation to cancel out the urge to laugh, he formulated his response.
"We shall attend the inauguration ceremony. And we will participate in the observation of the tournament."
He stated it concisely.
For the ministers, the answer was far more unexpected than they had anticipated, but it was the King's decree.
The chamber erupted into commotion, and preparations for the visit were swiftly set into motion.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — The Magitech Dynasty Sarion—at the Emperor's palace.
A beautiful, magnificent garden stretched out before them, where rare wild creatures lived in their natural state.
Maintaining that garden was funded by mere fractions of the vast profits generated by the numerous assets the Emperor held.
In other words, it came entirely from the Emperor's personal coffers.
Not a single coin of tax money was used to sustain it.
In that garden, two figures were relaxing.
One was Duke Elalurd.
Father of the adventurer Elen, he was a pillar of the nation—one of its top three most influential figures.
The person seated across from him.
That person was none other than the one who stood above Duke Elalurd—the nation's one and only sovereign.
Emperor Elmesia Elryu Sarion herself.
With a beautiful, feminine appearance—or rather, she was indeed a woman, but thanks to her elven blood, she did not age.
Asking the Emperor about her age was strictly taboo.
Her appearance was that of a young woman who had just reached adulthood, with fresh, supple skin.
It was as white as fresh snow.
She had the distinctive pointed long ears and narrow, sharp eyes.
Her jade-green irises seemed to see right through everything.
And her long, pale aqua-tinted silver hair flowed in silky waves, brushing against her cheeks.
Duke Elalurd nearly lost himself in her beauty for a moment, but the thought of his wife and daughter's wrath brought him back to his senses in a hurry.
He cleared his throat and turned back to the Emperor.
Facing the Emperor, who reclined elegantly in her cushioned chair— "Your Majesty, we have received a letter of invitation from the Monster Country, which I reported on previously."
With that, Duke Elalurd produced the letter from his breast pocket and gently offered it to her.
He had already verified its safety and was aware of its contents, but he held his tongue.
He knew full well that the Emperor despised having things told to her before she could verify them herself.
But...
(Assuming he became Demon Lord without incident is one thing, but what's with this invitation to his inauguration?)
That was the crux of the matter.
The letter had been addressed to Duke Elalurd. Technically, there was no obligation to show it to the Emperor.
However, it stated that if they wished to attend, they were to reply with the number of attendees specified!
This was, in essence, an open invitation to bring whomever they pleased—if one interpreted the wording rather liberally.
If he failed to inform the Emperor about this and attended alone, he would once again incur her wrath. That was what he feared.
After all...
He had just been furiously reprimanded for visiting the Monster Country under the pretext of rescuing his daughter.
She had said: "Why did you leave without me? How am I to believe such fascinating creatures exist until I see them with my own eyes? Moreover, even I, who has lived for so long, have never witnessed the birth of a Demon Lord! I'm not... No, this is outrageous! There could be any manner of pleasurable—I mean, dangerous experiences, and you went without me! Utterly unacceptable!"
That was roughly how the Emperor had sulked—in spectacular fashion.
The only people who ever saw the Emperor in such a state were Duke Elalurd—one of the few who had a personal relationship with her—and one other person.
What was terrifying was how she remained cold and ruthless before her subordinates, earning her the nickname "the Puppet Empress."
He always thought inwardly, *Isn't she laying it on a bit too thick?* If he attended this event alone, there was no telling what kind of scolding he would receive.
More importantly— The martial tournament that was apparently going to be held at the same time.
If he failed to take her to something like that, the magnitude of her fury would be beyond imagination.
Because the Emperor had fallen into a sulk, the plans for a technological partnership through the Magitech Science Bureau had stalled.
He needed to restore her good mood so that preparations for technological cooperation with that nation could resume.
There were other concerns as well.
It had been confirmed that there had recently been a conflict with the Holy Knights.
He had been worried about how they handled it, but—terrifyingly—they had achieved a complete victory and released everyone unharmed.
The handling displayed overwhelming confidence.
Some nations might interpret it as weakness, but for those who knew the full picture, it was enough to extinguish any desire to interfere.
For such a powerful force to voluntarily showcase their strength through a martial tournament was nothing short of a show of force.
But if he was going to gauge their true power, attending and observing was absolutely essential.
The problem was that bringing the Emperor to such a place would involve far more than minor complications...
Depending on the Emperor's response, that burden would inevitably fall upon his own shoulders.
Whether she had finished reading the letter, Emperor Elmesia returned it.
Duke Elalurd swallowed hard and— "So, Your Majesty. How shall we respond?"
—he asked the Emperor gingerly.
Emperor Elmesia flashed a serene smile and— "Now then..."
—she replied, drawing out the words with deliberate theatricality.
Duke Elalurd could already predict the answer from her demeanor, but he waited for her to finish.
The Emperor's response was exactly as expected, and Duke Elalurd would soon find himself swept up in sleepless days of preparation.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — At his trading house in the small kingdom of Blumund, Myormail was growing weary of an endless stream of visitors.
As a great merchant, he could gauge a person's character at a single glance.
There were those who came begging for money, and those seeking to probe for new trade opportunities.
Occasionally, destitute nobles on the verge of ruin would propose shady deals.
He was sick to death of dealing with such fools, though genuinely profitable proposals did occasionally come his way.
That was precisely why he could not entrust this work to anyone else.
Lost in these thoughts, he finished dealing with a man who was practically a swindler and passed word to have the next visitor shown in.
The man who entered was well-dressed.
But Myormail's eyes could not be deceived.
This man, too, was a noble on the decline—he still remembered when the man had tried to pass off junk disguised as antiques at exorbitant prices.
He was probably hatching some other dubious scheme to shake him down for money.
But the man was technically still a noble. An investigation had confirmed his lineage was genuine.
When dealing with a genuine noble, a careless response could cost him his life. That was what made this line of work so difficult.
Bracing himself for yet another exhausting battle of wits, he began to listen to what the man had to say.
He listened, and grew exasperated.
Just as he suspected, it was utter nonsense.
In essence, the man wanted funding to open a new establishment using slaves.
Honestly, there was no future in which this would succeed. Simply procuring attractive female slaves was no recipe for a successful business.
It required thorough market research, customer demographic analysis, a suitable location, and of course, compensation for the girls.
Even if one argued that slaves worked for free, there were still food costs and housing to cover. Above all, the initial purchase capital would be enormous—of that there was no doubt.
If one intended to open an adult establishment, insufficient preparation could lead to the spread of disease.
If it came to that, not only the noble, but Myormail himself would become a criminal.
He wanted absolutely nothing to do with such dangerous ventures.
"Now, now, Lord Kazaak, your insight is truly remarkable. However, the crucial slave girls in question—where could one possibly acquire them at present? Human trafficking is not permitted, and if we're talking about criminal slaves, surely the quality would be lacking?"
"Ah, about that... There are rumors, you see. Well, if you're putting up the money, I suppose I could let you in on it. But you understand, don't you? This is top secret... The only thing I can tell you is that these slaves are Elves."
The noble spoke with an air of self-importance.
Myormail felt a bitter distaste for Viscount Kazaak, but he forced himself to endure it through sheer willpower.
A great merchant must never let his personal disgust show on his face. Such immaturity belonged to third-rate merchants and below.
He needed to think of a clever excuse to refuse this man's proposal.
And just as he was about to open his mouth— "Yo! How've you been, Myormail?"
Despite being in the middle of a meeting, someone threw open the door and strode in.
A beautiful girl with silver hair and golden-black eyes.
Or was it a boy?
The build was a perfect match for someone who should have had no reason to be here...
"Huh? No way... Rimuru? Is that you?"
His own voice, filled with shock as he asked the question, sounded distant to his ears.
Wait, but Vester had said that Rimuru had become a Demon Lord...
And why wasn't he wearing a mask? His real face was that cute?!
These thoughts raced through his mind, and Viscount Kazaak, whom he had been dealing with until moments ago, suddenly became completely irrelevant.
Into Myormail's ears came— "P-Please wait! My lord currently has a guest!"
—the frantic voice of a servant trying to intervene.
The servant had probably been too mesmerized by Rimuru's appearance to stop him in time.
A massive breach of etiquette. A truly embarrassing blunder, though in a sense, perhaps understandable.
Myormail couldn't bring himself to blame the servant.
"Ah, my bad. You've got a guest, huh? Well then, I'll swing by your place and wait. Catch you later!"
With that, Rimuru headed for the exit—flashing a charming smile and an "Oh, terribly sorry about that, my bad!" at Viscount Kazaak as he went.
Myormail stared after him in a daze.
After that, he abruptly cut short the conversation, dismissed every remaining visitor, and turned them all away.
In this world, there were waves one simply could not afford to miss.
What truly mattered?
Myormail was not so foolish as to mistake the answer.
For a capable man like Myormail, unearthing rough diamonds from among stones was important, to be sure.
But there were things he simply had to do, even if it meant casting everything else aside.
Had Rimuru brought him enormous profits in a short time? Even that was beside the point now.
What mattered most was the debt of gratitude he owed—for when he was in danger, Rimuru had disregarded profits, concerned himself with the merchant's safety, and sent him away with every resource at hand.
Myormail had always planned to pay him a visit once things settled down.
But from what Myormail had heard, the moment Rimuru became a Demon Lord, he had headed off to the Banquet of Demon Lords, and that was the last he knew.
All he could do was worry, knowing he couldn't simply rush over until he learned what had happened.
And now, the man himself had come to see him, looking exactly as he always had.
Myormail could not think of any task more important than attending to this guest.
With greater swiftness than usual, he delegated all other business to his staff, concealed the joy welling up inside him, and hurried home.
Was Rimuru up to some scheme again?
And on this day, Myormail's dreary days would finally come to an end.