Allen
Allen was not a happy man.
As he began his systematic search of the desert, he tried to gain height by jumping to scout for settlements from above. But the billowing sand obscured everything beyond a few miles, the heat haze distorting his view like looking through water. The endless golden dunes seemed to actively resist his efforts, as if the desert itself didn't want him peering deeper into its secrets.
Should have done this in the evening, he thought with bitter irritation, landing in a spray of sand. But he couldn't afford delays. Every minute wasted was another minute for his target to slip away. Four days. Four damn days of catching up, and the cowardly mage vanished like smoke. His jaw clenched as frustration coiled tighter in his chest—Lady Freya had given him a direct order, and he was failing.
He changed tactics. If that bastard needed healers or shelter, he'd head for civilization. The closest settlement of any size was Lioad Town—an oasis city on the northern edge of Israfan where merchants and travelers gathered. Allen altered his course, pushing through the desert heat with grim determination.
After a few hours of running, he finally reached the walled town in the early evening, the sight of green palms and flowing water a stark contrast to the endless sand. His destination was a specific merchant—one of the less savory contacts Lady Freya used for acquiring slaves and information. The man owed her enough favors that he wouldn't dare refuse to answer questions.
As Allen entered through the main gate, his sensitive ears picked up a conversation between two guards stationed above him on the wall.
"Did they ever find out the reason behind that big flash near River Village?" one of them asked, his voice carrying clearly in the still evening air.
The other guard replied with obvious excitement, "Yeah! Apparently the village was attacked by a monster stampede and Chief Stan called for reinforcements. But then they found this mage, and he managed to wipe out half the horde with a single lightning spell. Stan testified himself—seems like some big shot Level 2. The reinforcements just came back a few hours ago."
Their conversation continued, discussing how Stan had paid the protection fee in full, but Allen had stopped listening after that crucial tidbit.
A mage. Lightning spell. Powerful enough to vaporize dozens of monsters.
Wasn't the bastard he was looking for also a mage?
Finally.
Without a second thought, Allen launched himself upward, landing directly in front of the two guards with enough force to make them stumble back. Their expressions shifted from surprise to alarm as they found themselves face-to-face with a black-haired cat man whose eyes blazed with barely contained fury, his killing intent leaking out just enough to make their knees buckle.
"Where is this village?" Allen demanded, his voice sharp as a blade.
Maybe he should have asked for the mage's description first before jumping to conclusions. But his combat instincts were screaming that this was his target, and something told him that if he didn't hurry, the lucky fucker would slip through his fingers again.
The guards hurriedly pointed toward the northeast, stumbling over their words as sweat beaded on their foreheads. "I-It's at the mouth of the River! Where the Nile originates! Just follow the water upstream and you'll find it!"
Allen didn't waste time thanking them. He dropped from the wall and shot back into the desert, his mind racing as fast as his feet.
Then he stopped himself mid-stride, skidding to a halt in a spray of sand.
No. Be smart about this.
If he activated his magic to enhance his speed, there was a chance the target could sense it. He was the only Level 5 for miles—his magical signature would light up like a beacon in this empty wasteland. The bastard had already proven he could sense danger; that's probably how he'd avoided Allen for this long.
Instead, he relied on raw physical speed, his Level 5 body more than capable of crossing the distance without magical enhancement. Since the guards had given him a straight route following the river, he didn't need to waste time checking other settlements. He just ran, his hair streaming behind him as the landscape blurred past, each footfall driven by four days of mounting frustration and the burning need to complete his mission.
This time, he promised himself, the rat wouldn't escape.
A few hours of relentless running brought him to where the river ended—or rather, where it began. The water bubbled up from underground sources, creating the life-giving flow that sustained River Village. And there, on the left bank, sat a small settlement illuminated by torchlight against the deepening evening.
Allen landed directly in front of the village gates with enough force to crack the ground beneath his feet, the impact sending spiderweb fissures through the packed earth.
The guards on duty jumped, and one of them actually pointed his spear at Allen with shaking hands before recognizing the threat level difference and nearly dropping the weapon. The other guard went pale, his knuckles white as he gripped his own spear.
"Where is he?!" Allen snarled, his hands clenching into fists that itched to pummel his target into the dirt, his killing intent now fully unleashed and pressing down on the guards like a physical weight. "WHERE IS THAT BLUE-HAIRED BASTARD?!"
The guards stumbled backward, one of them hitting the gate with his back, eyes wide with terror as they pointed frantically toward the other gate, words failing them completely.
Max
The rest of the day was dedicated to training Kairu, and Max couldn't have asked for a better student.
He started by feeding the little slime the magic stones he'd collected, carefully monitoring Kairu's reactions through their familiar bond. The first stone—a small one from a Sand Serpent—disappeared into Kairu's translucent body with a soft glow. Max felt through their connection a surge of satisfaction and pure, uncomplicated joy that made him smile. But more importantly, he sensed understanding—Kairu wasn't just eating, he was learning.
The sensation was strange but deeply fulfilling. For the first time since arriving in this world—since the terrifying fall from the sky, the desperate flight from the elves, the constant vigilance required just to survive—Max felt something close to peace. This wasn't fear or adrenaline or desperate calculation. This was... companionship. Partnership.
I'm not alone anymore, he realized, the thought settling warm in his chest.
Max established the training parameters: when to eat a magic stone for immediate growth and energy, and when to store it for later use. To say the little guy was unique and amazing would be an understatement. Within an hour, Kairu learned the distinction perfectly—small stones for eating, larger ones for storage. And once Max placed anything inside the slime, it simply disappeared with a faint shimmer, hidden somewhere in Kairu's body as if stored in an invisible inventory, exactly like his storage bag.
"You're a natural," Max praised, and Kairu wiggled with such obvious pride that Max couldn't help but laugh—a genuine, unguarded sound he hadn't made in what felt like forever.
But the training didn't stop there. Max taught Kairu defensive techniques—how to compress water into high-pressure jets and spit them at approaching threats, how to launch small rocks with enough force to stun, all aimed at head-level for maximum surprise impact. The slime adapted with remarkable speed, practicing on floating debris in the river. At first his shots went wild, splashing harmlessly or missing entirely, but within another hour his aim had improved dramatically. Each successful hit earned enthusiastic praise from Max and excited wiggling from Kairu.
As Max fed him more and more magic stones throughout the afternoon—skipping lunch entirely in his enthusiasm—Kairu grew bigger and bigger. The transformation was gradual but mesmerizing, like watching time-lapse footage of a plant growing. His translucent body expanded in smooth waves, maintaining perfect form even as his volume increased exponentially.
His full size eventually resembled a large car, maybe a jeep—roughly eight feet long and four feet tall—with approximately half that volume available as storage space. The realization hit Max as he walked around his familiar, examining the impressive bulk: Kairu's storage capacity now rivaled a small moving truck. The sight of his familiar expanding to vehicle-sized proportions filled Max with both pride and a dizzying array of possibilities.
I could literally ride him like a mount, Max thought with barely contained excitement, already imagining himself cruising across the desert on a giant slime. Or use him as mobile storage for dungeon loot. Or—hell, he could probably carry supplies for an entire adventuring party. This is insane. This is PERFECT.
The texture was fascinating too—no longer just water-like and translucent, but denser, more substantial, like solidified gelatin that held its shape. Max pressed his hand against Kairu's side experimentally and felt the surface give slightly before providing firm resistance, warm to the touch and humming with stored magical energy.
But before he could experiment further, sensing Kairu hit his current growth cap—a sensation like reaching a wall, soft but immovable—Max paused, watching his familiar shift back to fist-size with fluid grace.
And that's when it hit him.
Watching Kairu's rapid progress—from helpless riverside blob to vehicle-sized familiar in a single afternoon—reminded Max viscerally of Rimuru's journey. Rimuru hadn't grown stronger by hiding in Veldora's Sealed Cave, practicing magic in isolation. He'd explored. Built a nation. Made subordinates. Been tempered by the world itself through constant challenge and adaptation.
Max had spent four days in River Village. Four safe, comfortable days where the biggest danger was accidentally burning breakfast. He'd learned transformations, contracted Kairu, helped with a stampede—all valuable. But he was starting to get comfortable, and being comfortable was dangerous.
The uncertainty gnawed at him like a persistent itch. Where exactly was he in the timeline? Has the Black Dragon already begun its rampage? Was it already too late to contribute anything meaningful to this world? The thought made his stomach clench with something close to panic.
If the OEBD was already on its rampage, there'd be no thrilling adventure waiting in Orario—just dungeon exploration and the grim reality of being a latecomer to apocalypse. Worse, if Bell had already started his journey, broken hearts would litter his path like casualties, and Max would be nothing but a replacement, a second choice for every woman who'd already fallen for the white-haired hero.
He couldn't allow that. Not the replacement part, not the missed adventure, not the uncertainty eating away at his ability to plan.
River Village was safe now. Stan was back, capable and experienced. The stampede was defeated, the immediate crisis resolved. And if Max ever needed a safe haven, he could always return once he had his shit together in Orario—connections, resources, maybe even a Familia that wouldn't ask too many questions being a devil.
More than that, he had Kairu now. A partner. Someone watching his back. The timing felt perfect—he had a solid grasp on what he could do, what his limitations were, and what he needed to learn next. Staying longer would just be procrastination dressed up as caution.
And then there was the cat guy. If that bastard was persistent—and everything about their first encounter screamed persistent—it wouldn't take long for him to pick up Max's trail. The flash from the stampede battle had probably been visible for miles. Any competent hunter would connect those dots eventually.
Better to move now, under cover of darkness, before the village became a hunting ground.
Max's hand found Kairu on his shoulder, the slime's warmth a comforting presence against his neck.
"Alright, buddy," Max said quietly, decision crystallizing with absolute certainty. "Let's head back. We've got goodbyes to say and a city to reach."
Because Orario was calling. And Max was done waiting to answer.
Stella's tavern welcomed them with warm light spilling through the windows and the smell of cooking food—roasted meat, fresh bread, something with cumin and coriander that made Max's mouth water instantly. Max ordered an early dinner, his stomach practically singing with anticipation, and when Stella noticed the small slime perched on his shoulder, her eyes widened with genuine surprise.
"Is that a River Ooze?" she asked, leaning closer to examine Kairu, her expression shifting from surprise to something like awe. "Those are incredibly rare! They're easily killed by the monsters around here, and the arid climate makes survival nearly impossible for them. Most people never see one their entire lives—I've only heard stories from traveling merchants."
Max grinned, excitement bubbling up as he launched into an explanation of just how he found him and how unique Kairu was. Stella listened with increasing amazement, occasionally reaching out to let Kairu bump against her finger in greeting, which the slime did with obvious pleasure.
They talked as the evening settled in, the tavern's early-hour calm allowing for proper conversation. Other patrons filtered in gradually, but Stella seemed clearly interested in hearing about Kairu and asked curious but non-invasive questions.
Max ate his meal—some kind of spiced lamb with flatbread and roasted vegetables that tasted like heaven after skipping lunch—while Kairu received small chunks of meat that disappeared into his translucent body with soft glows. The slime wiggled with satisfaction at each piece, and Max found himself smiling at the simple contentment of the moment.
When they'd both had their fill—Max feeling properly stuffed for the first time in days, Kairu glowing faintly from his feast like a tiny lantern—Max carefully picked up his storage bag, placed Kairu inside where the slime could rest comfortably on a bed of spare cloth, and made his way to Stan's office.
The Chief was in the midst of allocating the recently earned valis to various village development projects when Max knocked. Papers covered his desk in organized chaos, each marked with amounts and purposes—repairs to the eastern wall, bulk food supplies for winter storage, upgraded weapons for the guard, emergency funds for the inevitable next crisis.
"Come in," Stan called, and looked up as Max entered. His expression shifted from tired concentration to friendly curiosity. "Max! What can I do for you? Need more magic stones? We're still sorting through—"
"I'm leaving," Max said simply. "Tonight."
Stan's hand froze mid-notation, his quill dripping ink onto the parchment. "What? Why so sudden?"
"I've been here for four days," Max explained, his tone apologetic but firm. "Longest stop I've made so far on my journey. But I feel it's time to move on. Orario's calling, and I've delayed long enough."
Stan felt a strong urge to argue, to convince the young mage to stay at least another week—maybe a month if he could manage it. Max's presence was a safeguard for the village, his magic a reassurance that another stampede, or worse, could be handled. The confidence boost to the guards alone was worth its weight in gold.
But as a fellow adventurer—even one who'd settled for desert outpost life—Stan understood the call too well. The allure of venturing into the unknown, of testing yourself against the dungeon's depths, of seeking something more than peaceful village life and routine patrols. It was a fire that either burned in you or didn't, and once lit, it couldn't be extinguished.
He'd never personally dungeon-dived in Orario, but he'd heard enough stories from merchants and passing adventurers to know that once the call took hold, it couldn't be ignored. And trying to cage someone who'd heard it? That just bred resentment.
"Wait here," Stan said, standing abruptly and setting his quill down with careful deliberation. "Give me a few minutes."
While the Chief disappeared into a back room, Max pulled Kairu out of his storage bag and began showing the slime around the office with quiet enthusiasm, pointing at the maps on the walls marking monster territories and safe routes, the well-maintained weapons in the corners, the ledgers on the desk documenting years of village administration.
"Remember this place," he told his familiar quietly, running his finger along the map's illustrated river. "We might come back someday. These are good people."
Kairu wiggled and bounced on Max's palm, his body catching the lamplight and splitting it into rainbow refractions, absorbing everything with what Max interpreted through their bond as genuine curiosity and, maybe, a kind of affection for these humans who'd welcomed them.
When Stan returned, he carried two items wrapped in oilcloth. His eyes caught on the ooze in Max's hands and he smiled warmly, some of the stress fading from his weathered face. "That's good fortune, you know. Very useful little guys when properly trained, but rare to find one that survives long enough to contract. You've got a good one there—I can tell by how he moves. Strong one."
"His name's Kairu," Max introduced proudly, lifting his hand so Kairu was at eye level with Stan.
Kairu wiggled enthusiastically and jumped slightly at being called, performing what Max had started thinking of as his "greeting bounce," making Stan chuckle—a deep, genuine sound of delight.
The Chief handed over his items with deliberate care, unwrapping them as he explained. "First, a map to Orario. The merchant-safe routes are updated as of two days ago from a caravan that I came across—should keep you out of the worst danger zones and marked monster territories. The northern route through the hills adds a day, but it's safer than the direct approach through the Wastes."
Max accepted it gratefully, noting the detailed markings and distance notations that showed real cartographic skill.
"Second," Stan held up a piece of parchment sealed with dark blue wax bearing the village's mark—a stylized river with protective walls, "official documentation with all known details about you and listing your residence as River Village. It's signed by me as Chief and witnessed by the village council."
Max understood immediately—a piece of identification. Not commonly used in Danmachi since most adventurers and their Familias handled reputation the old-fashioned way through Guild registration and word-of-mouth, but valuable nonetheless for dealing with territorial guards, suspicious merchants, and bureaucrats who demanded paperwork before cooperation.
More than that, though, it was a statement: This person belongs somewhere. He has people who vouch for him.
"Thank you, Stan," Max said, very grateful as he carefully stored both items in his bag, tucking the documentation into a waterproof inner pocket. "For everything. Not just these—for giving me a chance when I first arrived. For trusting me with the stampede. For... all of it."
They shook hands, the grip firm and meaningful—not just a goodbye, but an acknowledgment of mutual respect between warriors who'd fought together, even briefly.
"Best of luck in your adventures, Max," Stan said, his voice carrying the weight of genuine well-wishing. "River Village won't forget what you did for us. You'll always have a place here if you need it."
A place to belong, Max thought, and the warmth in his chest surprised him with its intensity. That's... that's actually really nice.
Max left Stan's office expecting to slip quietly out of the village under cover of darkness, maybe wave to the gate guards and disappear into the night like some mysterious wandering hero from the stories.
Instead, he found most of the village gathered near the main street, torches in hand, their faces illuminated with genuine affection and gratitude that made his throat tighten unexpectedly.
He walked forward embarrassedly at first, unused to this kind of attention, his hand unconsciously rising to rub the back of his head in a nervous gesture. But the feeling slowly transformed into confidence as he remembered all the progress he'd made in just four days—from his experiments to the stampede, becoming a hero to the people.
I did that, he realized with something like wonder. I actually helped people. Saved them. Made a difference.
It wasn't like the empty achievement of winning Otaku League tournaments or the hollow pride of anime knowledge. This was real. These people were alive partly because of him.
As they reached the entrance he'd first arrived through—gods, was it really only four days ago?—Max turned to face the assembled villagers. Stella stood at the front with several other familiar faces: the guards who'd been so nervous of his aura on that first night now smiling at him with real warmth, the other fighters who stood beside him in the stampede, elderly craftspeople who'd nodded greetings when he'd passed their workshops, children who'd watched him train and help around the village.
Before he could speak, Stella stepped forward with something tucked under her arm—a large wrapped container that she pressed into his hands with surprising firmness.
"Food for the road," she said, her tone brooking no argument. "Enough for several days if you're careful. And this—" She produced a leather water pouch, worn but clearly well-maintained, hanging it from his shoulder alongside his storage bag. "—stays sealed better than most. Desert's no joke, even for someone who can handle a stampede."
Max blinked, caught off-guard by the gesture. "Stella, I can't—"
"You can and you will," she interrupted, her expression softening into something almost maternal. "You saved us. Let us at least make sure you don't starve before you reach Orario." She patted the container meaningfully. "Dried meats, hard cheese, travel bread, and some of those honey cakes you seemed to like. Should keep you going."
The weight of the provisions in his hands felt heavier than it should, laden with more than just physical substance. It was care, packaged and practical, given freely without expectation of return.
"Thank you," Max said quietly, meaning it with an intensity that surprised him. He secured the container in his storage bag, the water pouch already settling comfortably against his hip.
Then he looked up at the crowd—a whole community, gathered to say goodbye—and his voice carried across the gathering with surprising steadiness despite the emotion trying to choke it. "For the hospitality, the support, everything. I won't forget River Village. I'll visit again someday—that's a promise."
The village responded as one, waving and calling out farewells in a chorus of voices that ranged from shouted enthusiasm to quiet blessing. Children jumped and shouted excitedly, waving with both hands. Elderly folks nodded with knowing expressions that said we've seen adventurers come and go, and we know you'll do great things. Stan raised his hand in final salute from the back of the crowd, his weathered face proud.
Max returned the gesture, then turned toward the desert. He walked into the darkness with Kairu on his shoulder—the little slime's warmth a comforting presence—and the cooling night air a welcome change from the day's oppressive heat. The village's lights faded behind him gradually, golden pinpricks against the vast darkness of the desert night, until finally they disappeared entirely and he was alone with the stars and sand.
But not truly alone, he realized, feeling Kairu's content vibration against his neck.
Orario, he thought with growing anticipation, consulting Stan's map by the light of a small flame conjured in his palm that cast dancing shadows across the parchment. Finally. Time to see what you are really about.
He oriented himself by the stars and the distant glow of River Village behind him. Agris Town—his next destination—lay almost straight north with a slight angle to the west. According to the map, he'd be able to spot its lights once he flew far enough north across the desert.
Once he had a firm hold on the direction, Max tucked away the map and performed one last scan of his surroundings, extending his magical senses outward in careful sweeps. The desert stretched empty in all directions, the village lights now distant pinpricks on the horizon. No concentrated magical signatures, no watching eyes, no threats.
Perfect.
With a thought and a surge of demonic power, Max unleashed his wings. The crimson membranes erupted from his shoulder blades with familiar ease, spreading wide and catching the cool night air. Kairu wiggled excitedly on his shoulder as Max crouched slightly, then launched himself skyward.
The sensation of flight never got old. Max climbed rapidly, the ground falling away beneath him as he rose higher and higher into the star-filled sky. The desert transformed into an abstract pattern of shadows and moonlit dunes, and the sheer freedom of three-dimensional movement made his heart race with exhilaration.
But just as he leveled out and oriented northward toward Agris Town, Max felt something—a brief flicker at the edge of his senses. Not quite danger, but... pressure. Like distant thunder before a storm, or the sensation of being watched from very far away.
His instincts prickled with warning, and Kairu stiffened slightly on his shoulder, sensing his master's alertness through their bond.
Max paused mid-flight, hovering as his wings beat steadily to maintain altitude. He scanned the darkness below toward where the village had been, extending his magical senses as far as they would reach. Nothing. Just empty desert, the whisper of wind across sand, and the faint warmth of life from River Village now far behind.
Probably nothing, he told himself, but kept his magical senses slightly extended as he resumed flight, angling north-northwest toward Agris Town. Just paranoia from four days of near-death experiences.
Still, he increased his speed slightly, his wings cutting through the air with powerful strokes that carried him faster across the night sky. Kairu seemed to approve, wiggling agreement against his neck.
The desert stretched below him, vast and ancient, dotted here and there with rocky outcroppings and the occasional oasis that glittered like jewels in the moonlight. And somewhere beyond this endless expanse of sand waited Orario—the Dungeon City, where his real adventure would begin.
Here we go, Max thought, grinning despite the lingering unease as wind rushed past his face and stars wheeled overhead. Let's see what fate has in store for a devil in a dungeon.
--> Devil in a Dungeon <--
AN:
Well things began moving again. Allen caught up but looks like Max gave him the slip again, lol. I feel pity for him, but what can you do when you are chasing a devilishly lucky bastard like Max? Atleast for Allen, they are going in the same direction, that's good news, right?
Do you all think Allen would be able to catch up to Max and present him to Freya?Let me know your thoughts in a comment/review.
Next update will be on Friday.
Ben, Out.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.