(Third Person POV – Approaching the Dwarven Capital)
The mountain path spiraled upward like a carved scar, each step leading Rimuru and Nova closer to the heart of Dwargon—the Kingdom of Steel, Commerce, and Unyielding Law. Even before the gates came into view, the air began to change. It grew warmer, denser, carrying the scent of burning coal and the faint metallic tang of hot iron drifting down from the famous forges hidden deep within the stone.
Rimuru bounced atop Ranga's head, excitement radiating from every wobble of his gelatinous body.
"Whoa…! I can smell fire from all the way out here. This is definitely a blacksmith city!"
Nova walked calmly beside the wolf pack, his expression unreadable and posture effortlessly composed. The wind tugged at his long coat, and his tails, though subdued, swayed with a slow rhythm—like a creature more ancient and powerful than anything the local mountain beasts could fathom.
His mismatched eyes never stopped analyzing.
(These mountains resonate with old magic. The runes embedded in the stone… forged protection, layered centuries thick. Not strong enough to stop me. But impressive for dwarven craftsmanship.)
Ciel's voice slid into his mind like a calm river of logic.
<
Nova didn't respond aloud.
It wasn't necessary.
Ahead, the first glimpse of the gate came into view—a massive steel structure, easily the size of a castle wall, carved directly into the mountainside. Runes glowed faintly like veins of burning amber. Dozens of torches lined the path, their flames flickering against the armor of the stationary guards.
Rimuru gasped.
"It's… huge!"
To anyone else, the gate would be intimidating.
To Nova?
It was merely another door.
---
The Weight of an Aura
The guards noticed the approaching wolves almost immediately.
"H—Halt! Identify yourselves!"
Spears lowered. Boots dug into the ground. Dwarves tensed like coiled springs, hands already drifting toward their rune-enhanced weapons.
But as Nova stepped forward, silence washed across the group like a lunar tide.
One guard visibly swallowed.
The wolves did nothing threatening. Rimuru made no hostile movement. But Nova's aura—quiet, vast, ancient—poured into the stone around them like a whisper that promised ruin if provoked.
The lead guard tried again, voice cracking slightly.
"State your business in Dwargon!"
Rimuru hopped off Ranga quickly before anyone tried stabbing him.
"Hi! We're travelers. I'm Rimuru. I'm… uh… pretty harmless!"
The guard narrowed his eyes.
Then he looked at Nova.
Then immediately regretted it.
His face paled several shades as if he had stared into the sun and seen something it shouldn't show.
"A-And… him?"
Rimuru puffed himself up.
"He's my companion!"
The guard stared at Rimuru… then at the barely contained force-of-nature behind him.
"…You're traveling… together?"
The slime nodded confidently.
"Yep!"
The guard let out a long, defeated exhale and muttered:
"Gods help us."
But he waved them through.
Not because he believed Rimuru.
Not because he trusted them.
But because standing in the way of whatever Nova was… felt like a very short road toward becoming a stain on the mountain path.
Nova walked past without a word.
(That was predictable.)
Ciel hummed approvingly.
<
---
Inside the Mountain Kingdom
Dwargon was alive.
Not metaphorically.
The city thrummed like a heartbeat—steam pipes, hammer strikes, furnace roars, clanging metal, shouting vendors. The air shimmered with heat, and the smell of molten iron carried a raw vibrancy that clung to the senses.
Rimuru was bouncing in circles.
"There's dwarves everywhere! Actual dwarves! And they're blacksmithing! And drinking! And blacksmithing while drinking!"
Nova walked steadily, indifferent to the bustling chaos.
But the people were not indifferent to him.
Everywhere he passed, conversations faltered. Dwarves stared. Humans looked away quickly. Beastmen instinctively stepped aside, fur bristling in instinctive respect or fear.
Rimuru didn't notice any of it.
Nova noticed all of it.
(This kingdom… its backbone is metal and money. Its weakness? Corrupt leadership and overconfidence in old systems.)
Ciel provided the data without prompt.
<
Nova nodded internally.
Then Dwargon was exactly what he expected.
A place ready for change.
---
Blacksmith District: Embers and Tension
The deeper they went, the louder the clanging of metal became. Sparks danced through open doors of smithies. Weapons of every shape hung on display—longswords, battle-axes, hammers, halberds. Magic-infused blades glowed faintly behind glass cases.
Rimuru sparkled with delight.
"I want one of EVERYTHING!"
Nova glanced down.
"You cannot use most of them."
"That's not the point!"
Before Nova could respond, the path suddenly blocked.
A drunk adventurer swayed toward them, flanked by his equally intoxicated party.
"Oi! Slime!" the man slurred. "Watch where you bounce!"
Rimuru tilted in confusion.
"But I didn't even—"
One of the drunkards drew a blade halfway.
"You little pest—"
The sound that followed was not physical.
It was pressure.
Nova didn't move.
He didn't speak.
He simply looked—just a brief turn of the head.
The man's face drained of color. His hand froze around the hilt like it had turned to stone.
His entire party stumbled backwards as if pushed by invisible force, nearly falling over themselves.
The drunk man stammered, voice trembling.
"S-S-Sorry… sir…"
Then they fled.
Rimuru sighed.
"Nova, you scared them half to death."
"They attempted hostility."
"That's what drunk people do!"
"Then they should not do it to me."
Rimuru flopped.
"…Right. Fair point."
Nova resumed walking, expression unchanging.
Ciel added,
<
Rimuru whispered,
"You two are terrifying together."
---
The Workshop of a Fallen Star
Eventually they reached the dimmest part of the district—a place where the forges burned a little weaker, where the tools were older, and where dust gathered where it shouldn't.
Kaijin's workshop.
Inside, the dwarf sat slumped over a table, a half-empty mug beside him, and tools scattered with the careless disarray of someone who used to care deeply… and then suddenly didn't.
When Rimuru entered, the dwarf looked up.
When he saw Nova behind him, he straightened immediately—likely without realizing why.
"What do ya want?" Kaijin grumbled, voice roughened by exhaustion and ale.
Rimuru bounced happily.
"I need equipment!"
Kaijin snorted.
"For a slime?"
"Yes!"
A long pause followed.
"…Yer joking."
Nova took one step forward.
"Material cost is irrelevant. What matters is craftsmanship."
Kaijin blinked at him.
Then blinked again.
Something in Nova's tone—icy, precise, absolute—ignited an old instinct inside the dwarf. The instinct of a blacksmith standing before a warrior who understood metal, battle, and power.
"…Hmph. You've got the eyes of someone who knows good steel when he sees it."
Rimuru gasped.
"He says that like it's a compliment!"
Nova didn't deny it.
(He isn't wrong.)
Ciel's voice added:
<
Nova's eyes flicked around the workshop.
Then he placed a pouch on the table.
Rare ores spilled out like shimmering embers.
Kaijin's breath caught.
"…These are… these are higher grade than the royal forges use—!"
Nova simply said:
"Can you forge them?"
The dwarf stared at the ore… then at Nova.
A slow, hungry grin stretched across his face—the grin of a craftsman whose passion had just been reignited.
"Hah! Now that's a challenge I won't refuse."
(Third Person POV – Inside Kaijin's Workshop)
The forge awoke like a sleeping beast roused by fresh prey.
Kaijin moved with a vigor he hadn't shown in years, tossing aside empty mugs, clearing scattered tools, and pulling down tongs and hammers with a speed that suggested old instincts returning to life. The molten light swelled inside the workshop, painting the walls in dancing reds and golds.
Rimuru watched in awe, sitting on a stool near the workbench.
"He's like a whole different person now!"
Nova stood near the forge, calm and silent, observing every movement with surgical attention—not the enthusiasm of a customer, but the cold appraisal of someone evaluating a vital piece of a larger machine.
Kaijin caught the look and barked a half-laugh, half-scoff.
"Don't stare like that. You're makin' me feel like I've got royalty watchin' me work."
Nova didn't blink.
"Then work in a way befitting the attention."
Kaijin slowed for one second… then grinned like a man accepting a duel he didn't know he wanted.
"Hah! Fine then. Let's see if these old hands still remember how to dance."
He plunged the ore into the furnace. Flames roared higher, almost devouring the metal.
---
The Hammer's Song
The workshop filled with rhythm—steel striking steel, bellows rushing air, the grinding hiss of heated metal plunged into water. Each hammer blow echoed like a heartbeat, strong and steady, resonating through the stone walls.
CLANG.
CLANG.
CLANG.
Rimuru shivered.
"It sounds… alive."
Nova's gaze deepened.
(He hasn't lost his edge. It was simply buried under failure and guilt. Talent like this is rare, almost wasted here.)
Ciel agreed with a soft hum.
<
Nova continued to watch the sparks dance across Kaijin's arms, each movement betraying not just experience… but longing.
This was a man who once forged for kings.
Now, he forged for survival.
---
A Dwarf Reignited
Kaijin raised the glowing metal, sweat rolling down his arms, hammer swinging with renewed purpose.
"Hrah—!"
CLANG!
A burst of sparks scattered across the ground like falling stars.
"For years…"
CLANG!
"I've had nothin' but scrap and cheap commissions…"
CLANG!
"But THIS—!"
CLANG!
"This is real work! The kind that makes a blacksmith feel alive!"
Rimuru cheered, bouncing.
"Yay, Kaijin! Hit it harder!!"
Kaijin laughed through his exertion.
"That's not how forging works, lass!"
Rimuru puffed up stubbornly.
"It feels like it should be!"
Nova's lips twitched—almost the ghost of amusement.
Almost.
---
Nova's Calculations
As Kaijin shaped the blade, Nova's eyes drifted across the room.
Tools in disarray. Empty mugs. Unpaid bills shoved into corners. Cracks in the walls of a once-proud smithy.
Signs of a man pushed aside by politics, not lack of skill.
(Dwargon's guild structure… suffocates its talent.)
Ciel provided the data instantly.
<
Nova's tails flicked faintly.
(A kingdom that cripples its own talent is already rotting.)
Ciel's tone sharpened.
<
That was faster than Nova expected.
(All the more reason to intervene. A kingdom in decline… is a kingdom ripe for influence.)
He didn't smile.
But something inside him stirred.
---
Whispers from Beyond the Workshop
Outside, the streets murmured. Dwarves passed by the small windows, unaware their conversations carried through the cracks.
"Commerce Guild's hiking ore tariffs again."
"Bah! They're bleeding us dry."
"Even the king's temper's been short lately. The guildmaster's pushing limits."
"Heard Kaijin got into another fight with them…"
"…Shame. The man used t' be the best in the capital."
Kaijin's hammer paused mid-swing.
Something hard and painful flickered through his eyes.
Rimuru noticed.
"Kaijin?"
The dwarf exhaled through clenched teeth.
"…Ignore it. Those bastards took enough from me already."
Nova tilted his head.
"The guild is targeting you."
Kaijin's jaw tightened.
"Yeah. Because I told the truth once when it wasn't convenient… and because I refused to forge weapons that'd get good people killed for profit."
He struck the metal again, sparks flaring.
"They wrecked my reputation. Cut my supply lines. Took my apprentices. All legal. All on paper."
Rimuru deflated.
"That's awful…"
Kaijin shrugged a bit too forcefully.
"Politics."
He spat the word like it was poison.
"Even a king can't fix greed."
Nova's eyes glimmered with an unreadable emotion.
(We'll see.)
Ciel echoed knowingly.
<
---
Luae Steel — A Blade Reborn
Finally, Kaijin lifted the blade from its final quench. Steam rose in shimmering coils, revealing a sword with a sleek, silver-blue finish and faint swirling patterns like starlight captured in steel.
Rimuru's eyes gleamed.
"WHOAAA! IT'S BEAUTIFUL—!"
Kaijin wiped sweat from his brow and held the sword with reverent pride.
"That's Luae Steel. Rare stuff. Tempered right, it'll outlast most enchanted blades."
Nova inspected it with clinical precision.
"The balance is impeccable. Weight distribution… nearly flawless. Edge sharpness… above standard. A satisfactory result."
Kaijin stared.
Then burst out laughing.
"'Satisfactory,' he says! Hah! From a man like you, I'll take that as the highest praise!"
Rimuru bounced frantically.
"Nova, you need to work on your compliments!"
"No."
Ciel chimed in:
<
Kaijin sheathed the sword and placed it gently on a cloth.
"Well… if you need a blacksmith… I'll work for you. Payment up front, naturally, but…"
He hesitated.
For the first time, his voice softened.
"…I'd like to see where the road with you two leads. Even a fool can see trouble swirls around ya."
Rimuru bubbled happily.
"Yay! We got a Kaijin!"
Nova simply nodded once.
(A useful piece joins the board.)
---
A Shadow Moves in Dwargon
Before they could celebrate long, hurried footsteps approached the workshop. A dwarf guard pounded on the door.
"Kaijin! Emergency!"
Kaijin stiffened.
"What now?"
The guard looked breathless, face pale.
"It's… it's the Commerce Guild. They're filing a formal complaint against you. The guildmaster himself demands your arrest."
Rimuru froze.
Nova's eyes narrowed.
Ciel whispered:
<
Nova exhaled softly.
(It begins.)
(Third Person POV – Rising Conflict in Dwargon)
The forge's warmth faded fast once the guard's words settled.
Kaijin, who only moments ago stood tall with pride, now looked like all the air had been punched from his lungs. His knuckles whitened around the workbench.
"A… formal complaint?" Kaijin muttered. "From the guildmaster himself?"
Rimuru's face twisted with worry.
"Why? What did you even do!?"
The guard swallowed, shifting uneasily.
"You know how the guildmaster is… He says you 'assaulted' his men. That you insulted the guild. That you're disrupting the kingdom's peace."
A hesitant pause.
"And… he's citing old debts. Very old ones."
Kaijin slammed his fist on the table, rattling tools.
"That damned snake! I didn't lay a finger on his cronies this week!"
Rimuru whimpered, "This week? That's not helping your case!"
Nova stepped forward, his voice calm but slicing through the tension like a blade.
"They want leverage. Either to silence you… or to make an example of you."
The guard nodded grimly.
"Exactly. And they came prepared. There are three squads searching for you. If they find you outside, they'll drag you off immediately."
Kaijin dragged a hand down his face.
"This is bad. I can't afford another charge. I won't survive their courtroom sham…"
Rimuru floated frantically.
"Should we run!? Can we run!?"
Kaijin shook his head.
"If I'm caught fleeing, it'll be worse. I need to face this head-on."
Nova's eyes glinted like ice catching fire.
"No. Facing them blindly would be walking into their trap."
Rimuru looked between the two anxiously.
"Then what do we do?"
Nova turned toward the door.
"We go to them."
---
The Tavern of Trouble
The Commerce Guild's men often spent evenings at a specific tavern—their unofficial nest where bribes were shared openly and intimidation flowed like cheap ale.
Tonight, the building was noisy and overstuffed, full of armored dwarves drinking, boasting, and arguing over fabricated victories. The air reeked of sweat, grease, and stale alcohol.
Rimuru floated behind Kaijin, worried.
"Are you sure this is the place…? It looks like the birthplace of bad decisions."
Kaijin chuckled darkly.
"Kid, this place IS bad decisions."
Nova walked through the door without hesitation, aura sharp and cold enough to quiet nearby conversations. Heads turned. Eyes narrowed.
A few dwarves whispered:
"Isn't that Kaijin…? Thought he was banned."
"He's got strangers with him."
"That tall one gives me chills…"
Kaijin took a shaky breath and marched forward.
"Alright you bastards! Which one of you brain-dead goats is spreading lies about me!?"
The tavern erupted in noise.
A dwarven man sitting at the far table—the one wearing expensive but poorly tailored garments—slowly lifted his head. His smirk was the kind of expression reserved for men who believed they owned the law.
Vesta.
The guildmaster's right-hand man.
"Well, well… If it isn't the washed-up smith himself."
Kaijin's teeth ground together.
Nova stepped forward slightly.
"State your accusation."
Vesta's eyes flicked over to him, disdain dripping.
"And who are you? Some stray fox pretending to play hero in our kingdom?"
Rimuru puffed angrily.
"Hey! Nova's ten times cooler than you, buddy!"
Kaijin slammed his fist onto the table, voice booming.
"You know damn well I didn't lay a finger on your men. You're making this up!"
Vesta shrugged.
"Maybe you did, maybe you didn't. Who can say? But the guildmaster has already approved your arrest."
He leaned back smugly.
"You've been a thorn in our side long enough. Consider this… pest control."
Rimuru's aura sparked.
"That's so unfair!!"
Kaijin's fist trembled.
"You manipulative little—"
Vesta grinned.
"Oh? Planning to punch me now? Go ahead. Give me another charge to file."
Nova took one step forward.
The entire tavern fell silent.
Not from shouting.
Not from threats.
But from the killing pressure that radiated off him—cold, precise, suffocating.
Vesta choked on air, frozen in place.
Nova's voice was quiet, but sharp enough to carve stone.
"You're confident because you believe the law shields you. Because you believe your guild's influence is absolute."
He paused.
"You are mistaken."
One of the dwarf thugs slammed his mug down.
"You threatening the guild, fox-boy?"
"Not a threat," Nova said smoothly. "An observation."
The dwarf lunged—
—but Kaijin moved first, knocking the attacker onto the floor with a single punch fueled by months of pent-up frustration.
Chaos ignited instantly.
---
The Brawl Erupts
Dwarves charged. Tables toppled. Ale flew across the room.
Kaijin held back three men at once, grinning despite the danger.
"Feels good to throw a punch for a real reason!"
Rimuru bounced at enemies like a rubber projectile, sending dwarves flying with comedic PONKS.
"Hiiiiyaaa—!!"
Nova didn't move like a brawler.
He moved like a judge.
A dwarf swung a large hammer at him—Nova caught it with one hand and twisted the attacker into the table.
Another tried to stab him—Nova sidestepped, hit a pressure point, and the dwarf collapsed instantly.
Vesta shrieked in panic.
"GET THEM! GET THEM ALL!"
Kaijin knocked out another thug with a spinning backfist.
"That tavern brawl charge is gonna be the least of my worries after this!"
"Worth it!" Rimuru yelled, body-slamming a dwarf into a barrel.
Nova approached Vesta, steps slow and deliberate.
Each one made the dwarf tremble more violently.
"S-stay back! I have status! Influence! The guildmaster will—"
Nova leaned close.
"Tell him Nova Tempest is coming."
Vesta squealed and scrambled away.
---
The Aftermath — Arrested
Guards stormed in minutes later.
"ENOUGH! LAY DOWN YOUR WEAPONS!"
Kaijin didn't resist. He raised his arms and sighed.
"Figures."
Rimuru panicked.
"No! Wait! It wasn't his fault!"
Nova simply lowered his hands calmly and allowed the cuffs.
Ciel spoke inside his mind:
<
Nova's eyes glimmered with cold calculation.
Exactly as intended.
Kaijin looked betrayed and confused.
"Nova… Rimuru… you don't gotta get dragged into this with me."
Rimuru shook his head fiercely.
"We're not abandoning you! Even if we get arrested too!"
Nova spoke evenly.
"This is the most efficient route."
Kaijin stared at him.
Then laughed bitterly.
"Efficient…? You're crazy, kid."
Nova didn't deny it.
Their wrists were bound. They were surrounded.
As the guards dragged them through the streets, dwarves whispered and stared.
Yet not a single one dared meet Nova's eyes.
---
Inside the Dungeon — A Calm Before the Storm
They were thrown into a spacious cell—more a holding chamber than a dungeon. The air was cold, but manageable.
Kaijin slammed his head against the wall.
"Damn it… damn it all…"
Rimuru sat beside him.
"We'll fix it, Kaijin. I promise."
The dwarf gave a tired, grateful smile.
Nova stood silently near the barred door, eyes closed.
Ciel's voice echoed.
<
Nova opened his eyes, a faint spark of anticipation within them.
"Good."
Kaijin blinked.
"'Good'…? Boy, we're about to be judged by the strongest king alive!"
Nova stared toward the entrance of the cellblock.
"That is the point."
Footsteps approached—heavy, confident, unmistakably regal.
A deep, commanding voice echoed down the hall:
"Bring the suspects forth."
Kaijin paled.
Rimuru tensed.
And Nova… smiled.
Just barely.
The board was moving.
And the king had finally entered the game.
Side Story 7 — Whispers Beyond the Mountains (Expanded Edition)
Deep beyond Dwargon's mountain range—far past the territories where mortals dared chart their maps—lay a valley drowned in eternal mist. Here, ancient trees loomed like forgotten guardians, their branches twisted into silhouettes that resembled gods long since abandoned.
Under the largest of these withered giants, a scholar hunched over a slab of stone, scribbling furiously into a tome bound in dragon-hide. The quill shook in his ink-stained fingers, but the scratching never ceased.
"Even the smallest figures… can shape the tide of fate," he whispered, each word steeped in reverence. "A blacksmith's hammer… a beast's whisper… a monster's hidden will. Sparks, all of them. Sparks that may yet set the world ablaze."
His apprentice—barely more than a boy, all wide eyes and innocence—leaned over his shoulder.
"…We're writing about blacksmiths now?" the boy asked flatly.
"And slimes?" he added with more judgment.
"And—uh—fox demons with too many tails?"
The scholar's quill froze mid-stroke.
The master turned slowly, adjusting the many layers of robes he wore (far too many for the climate). His beard rustled dramatically as he spoke.
"Child… you misunderstand history."
The apprentice raised an eyebrow. "History is supposed to record important people."
The scholar jabbed the quill into the air. "Exactly! And that is why we must record all important people—including the ones no one realizes are important yet."
"…Like a slime," the boy deadpanned.
"Exactly!" the scholar nodded proudly.
The apprentice blinked, face blank, brain visibly lagging.
"…Master, that was sarcasm."
"Every great revelation begins with sarcasm!" the scholar snapped, returning to his book. "Now hush. I must document the rise of a drunk blacksmith who accidentally became relevant again."
The boy sighed.
Just then, the mist stirred.
A cold wind blew across the valley—carrying faint, echoing whispers. Names.
Names not meant to be heard by mortal ears.
Kaijin… Rimuru… Nova…
The apprentice stiffened, scalp prickling. "Master…! Someone… something is whispering!"
The scholar didn't even look up. "Of course they are. The world is always whispering. Most are simply too loud, too blind, or too stupid to listen."
The boy swallowed hard. "But… those names. They felt… heavy."
The scholar paused.
Then he smirked.
"That is because they are tied to fate. And fate has a terrible habit of shouting when it wants your attention."
A gust of wind flipped open several pages in the tome—revealing illustrations the apprentice had never seen before. Beautiful, intricate sketches that shouldn't exist: hideous monarchs, sleeping dragons, crowned monsters, a fox with nine flowing tails.
And beneath them, inked in delicate runes:
"Future Threat Levels:
—Slime (???): Catastrophic
—Nine-Tailed Beast (Unknown): Catastrophic+
—Blacksmith (Kaijin): Mildly Dangerous with Alcohol"
The boy blinked. "Why is Kaijin's ranking so low?"
The scholar dipped his quill, reciting as though it were gospel.
"Because drunk dwarves sleep, child. And nothing is less frightening than a sleeping dwarf."
"…You've clearly never seen Kaijin sober."
"True," the scholar admitted. "And for the world's safety, perhaps it's best he never is."
The boy shivered as the mist coiled around the withered tree once more. The whispers faded, but the air still hummed with a sense of gathering storms.
"Master," he whispered, "if these three are so important… what will they become?"
The old scholar closed the tome gently—so gently that the boy was surprised.
"Ah… that is a question only the future can answer."
He tapped the dragon-hide cover lightly.
"But the ripples they create will not stay small forever."
He lifted his gaze toward the mountains—toward Dwargon—and beyond.
"Remember this lesson, child. Stories are not shaped solely by kings or heroes. They are shaped by those unseen—those whose names appear as whispers long before they become legends."
The boy lowered his head respectfully.
"…I think I understand."
"Good," the scholar said.
He stood, stretched…
…and immediately cracked his back loudly.
"AAAGH—by the gods, I'm too old for this!"
The apprentice winced. "Master, maybe you should stretch first."
"I am stretching!"
"No, I mean before sitting for eight hours straight—"
"Oh hush. Fetch me more ink. The world is on the verge of dramatic upheaval. There is much to record. And it all begins with—" He paused dramatically. "—a slime, a fox, and a dwarf who desperately needs intervention."
The apprentice sighed deeply.
"…This is going to be a long era, isn't it?"
"Catastrophically long," the scholar confirmed.
And with that, the mist rolled back over them, the quill resumed its scratching, and the whispers of fate continued, unnoticed by all but the strangest—and most important—scholars of the age.