Emilia's eyes narrowed, doubt clear in her voice as she spoke.
"I don't believe this. Healing potions like these don't exist. They're fairy tales told to soldiers so they don't lose hope."
Aiden didn't argue. He simply slid one of the shimmering potions across the table. "Test it. You'll know soon enough."
Emilia clenched her fists, torn between anger and desperation. Finally, she looked toward the back of the tent where a soldier was supporting a man half-conscious, blood seeping through his bandages.
Her voice cracked as she whispered, "Bring my brother forward."
The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances, but obeyed. A tall man with blue hair — not unlike Emilia's — staggered in, his face pale, his arm mangled and chest barely rising with breath. Emilia dropped to her knees beside him, holding his hand tight.
"This is… my only family left," she muttered, trembling. "If you're lying, if this kills him—"
Aiden interrupted gently. "Then you can do whatever you want to me. But I don't lie."
Her hands shook as she uncorked the potion. The smell was strange, herbal but sharp. She hesitated at the edge of his lips. Her brother wheezed, muttering her name, and that was enough. She tilted the bottle, letting the liquid flow into him.
For a few agonizing seconds, nothing happened. The soldiers leaned in, tense. Emilia's eyes burned with unshed tears as she whispered, "I knew it… false hope, just another lie—"
Then her brother's body glowed faintly, the light spreading from his chest outward. His ragged breathing steadied. The crushed bones in his arm shifted, cracks knitting, torn flesh sealing without scars. Color returned to his cheeks.
The entire tent fell silent. Emilia's eyes widened, disbelieving. Her brother opened his eyes fully for the first time in days and rasped weakly, "Emilia… you're crying."
She froze, staring at him — alive, healed — before her gaze snapped to Aiden, a mix of shock, hope, and fear swirling in her expression.
"You… what are you?"
Aiden looked at her as he saw her sapphire blue eyes stare back at him. His voice was calm, steady.
"What do you think?"
For a moment, silence lingered. Emilia's trembling hand brushed at her tears, and she ran her fingers through strands of her long blue hair, trying to compose herself. Her old self — the girl who once prayed, who once believed in miracles — would have whispered God.
But that Emilia no longer existed.
Her voice came low, almost bitter, as she answered, "An anomaly. A paradox. Something that should not exist… and yet does."
She turned her gaze back to her brother, still breathing steadily, his color returning more by the second. The soldiers around her exchanged uneasy murmurs, caught between reverence and fear.
Emilia clenched her jaw, forcing strength back into her tone. "I don't know what you are, slime… but right now, you've done what even the gods abandoned."
Her eyes narrowed, sapphire like sharpened blades. "That makes you dangerous."
Radomira's wings twitched as she leaned lazily against one of the tent poles, her tail curling behind her. Her voice cut through the tense silence like velvet lined with steel.
"Now… dangerous, that he is," she said, smirking as her yellow eyes glowed faintly in the lamplight, "but not to you, or your army."
The soldiers flinched at her tone, some gripping their weapons tighter at the reminder of who she was — the Succubus Goddess, a name woven into old curses and children's bedtime warnings.
Emilia's gaze flicked to Radomira, testing, suspicious. "And why should I believe you? Your name alone terrifies half the men here."
Radomira stretched her wings wide with a lazy flourish, shadows flickering across the tent as she smiled. "Because if we meant you harm, Emilia… your precious camp wouldn't still be standing."
Emilia exhaled slowly, her fingers brushing the edge of the map as if grounding herself. Her sapphire eyes flicked from Aiden to Radomira, then to the faint glow of the Inferno Wolves outside. When she finally spoke, her voice was low but steady.
"You know," she said, her tone carrying a mix of disbelief and reluctant respect, "your actions have already spoken louder than any promises. You walk in here with a pack of Inferno Wolves led by The Fenrir. You," her gaze settled on Aiden, "are a paradox slime. And you," her eyes cut to Radomira, "the infamous Succubus Goddess herself. And yet… you came here not to take, but to talk. You brought me healing potions and ores that could turn the tide of this war."
She let out a hollow chuckle, shaking her head slightly, her blue hair shifting with the motion. "I have no reason to suspect you… not anymore." She paused, straightened, and then, with the air of a commander reclaiming her poise, said:
"Very well. Welcome to my army. But know this—" her eyes sharpened, her voice dropping an octave, "—you will be under a close watch."
The tent was silent except for the faint growl of the wolves outside.
Aiden tilted his slime body slightly, almost like a shrug. The tension in the tent was thick, but his voice carried no offense, only a dry sort of acceptance.
"Yeah," he said plainly, "that's what I expected."
Radomira smirked, folding her arms as if amused by the whole exchange, while Fenrir gave a faint rumble of approval from outside the barrier. The soldiers who had been bristling with suspicion earlier still looked uneasy, but Emilia's word was final—they had no choice but to accept these strange allies.
Emilia narrowed her eyes, still measuring him, as though she wanted to peel apart his layers and see what he truly was. But for the moment, the deal was struck.
Emilia straightened her staff and turned toward the soldiers who had gathered outside her tent. Her voice, though tired, carried authority.
"Summon my officers. They need to see this with their own eyes."
Within minutes, the tent filled with Emilia's commanders—seasoned knights, mages, and scouts. Their armor clinked faintly as they entered, each bowing before their leader before turning their suspicious gazes toward the strangers within. The Inferno Wolves' distant growls outside only made the air heavier.
Aiden stood—or rather, shimmered—in the center, unfazed by the dozens of eyes boring into him. Radomira leaned casually against a post, her wings half-spread, while Emilia adjusted her grip on her staff.
"These three," Emilia began, her sapphire eyes locking on her officers, "have declared their intent to join us. They've offered us healing potions made from Hipokute herbs and ores for reforging weapons. Their leader calls himself Aiden."
Murmurs erupted instantly.
"A slime?" one knight scoffed, his hand instinctively resting on his sword.
"The wolves—are they controlled?" asked a mage, sweat already forming on his brow.
"And that woman…" one of the older commanders muttered, staring at Radomira's horns, "a goddess of lust. This is folly."
Aiden raised what passed for his hand and chuckled. "Yeah, that's about the reaction I expected too. But hey, I didn't come here to be worshipped or feared. I came here because you're fighting Volt. And I don't like Volt either."
Radomira's tail flicked with amusement, while Fenrir's voice growled through their minds again:
"Watch your tongues. We are not servants of Volt. Do not mistake us for their filth."
The tent fell silent instantly. Emilia let the words sink in before she spoke again.
"They will be kept under close watch," she said firmly, "but they are now under my banner. You will treat them as allies. Doubt them, yes, but do not defy my order."
Her tone left no room for argument. Still, the suspicion in the eyes of her officers lingered.
Emilia gave her orders crisply, her voice cutting through the tense silence.
"Set up new tents for the Goddess and the Slime. As for Fenrir and his pack—they're accustomed to the wild, let them remain outside the barrier."
The soldiers bowed and moved quickly, though unease lingered in their eyes. Then Emilia turned to a small squad.
"You five—go. Verify their claims. If the Volt camp truly lies in ruins, bring back what supplies you can. If not… return alive."
The chosen soldiers saluted and departed into the night. The rest of the camp settled back into a strained rhythm.
Hours later, inside the hastily erected tent, Aiden and Radomira both let out a long sigh.
For Radomira, such cold treatment was nothing new. She had lived through centuries of suspicion and curses—mortals rarely welcomed her presence.
But for Aiden… this kind of distrust was new. It stung in a way fire or frost never could.
At their feet, Jörmungandr coiled lazily, Anansi skittered about chasing shadows, and Noivern tilted his head, clearly confused at his master's mood. The three young monsters settled on the ground, their innocent curiosity so out of place in a war camp.
Aiden shifted his slime body, his voice quieter than before.
"So… this is a real Isekai. A real war."
Radomira smirked faintly, flicking her tail. "What were you expecting? A light novel rom-com?"
Aiden chuckled, but it didn't reach his core. "…Kinda."
Radomira leaned back, wings stretching lazily, her amethyst eyes glinting in the firelight.
"This is the truth, Aiden. What you expected? The world doesn't run on isekai tropes."
Her tail flicked, almost in annoyance.
"Light novels are just power fantasies—cheap dreams cooked up so the average Japanese salaryman can escape his miserable life of eighty-hour work weeks. But this…" She gestured toward the camp outside, the soldiers still sharpening their blades, the faint cries of the wounded echoing through the night. "…this is real. Blood, dirt, grief, and too much fear to even sleep."
She smirked, a hint of teeth showing. "Not exactly the kind of thing you'd binge-read on a weekend, huh?"
Aiden looked at her, his slime body shifting like he was scratching his head.
"When did you get so cold? Back in our last life you were… sweeter. You baked cookies, acted like the perfect girl next door."
Radomira shrugged, her wings rustling faintly as her eyes softened for just a moment.
"I'm still that. But you forget—" she tapped her chest lightly, "—I was reborn long before you. I've seen more. I waited for you, through centuries of watching people die and empires fall. Sweetness doesn't survive that kind of time."
Aiden let out a bubbling giggle, half awkward and half fond.
"Yeah… makes sense."
Radomira exhaled through her nose, a faint smile threatening to break her usual cold expression.
Then, a sudden thunk broke the moment.
Jörmungandr had slithered onto Aiden's slime body and tried to curl up like a scarf, only to slide off with a squeaky plop.
Anansi clicked her tiny legs in annoyance, then climbed onto Radomira's lap, glaring like she was claiming her spot.
Noivern, meanwhile, fluttered his stubby wings and landed right on Aiden's head, puffing out his little chest with a squeaky "Skreee!" as if declaring victory.
Aiden sighed. "Great. I have a hat now."
Radomira smirked, petting Anansi. "At least yours thinks he's fashionable. Mine's just a brat."
The tension dissolved as Aiden's slime body jiggled like laughter, and for a brief moment, the weight of war didn't seem so crushing.
Meanwhile, outside, Emilia paused on her nightly round.
Through a small gap in the tent flap, she caught a glimpse of the odd scene — the slime wearing a baby bat like a crown, the serpent wriggling uselessly on the floor, the spider proudly curling up on the succubus's lap. And the two of them… laughing.
She quietly stepped back, eyes lingering on the glow of the campfire as the sound of that laughter carried into the night.
Her gaze drifted to the starry sky, her lips parting in a whisper only the night could hear.
"A strange world… I fight against humans who became monsters, and now I walk beside monsters who act more human than any I've known. Truly… fate is both strange and false."
Her hand tightened around her staff, and for the first time in years, Emilia felt something stir that she thought she had lost.
Hope.
The next morning, Emilia stood in front of her command table, map unrolled, her eyes heavy but sharper than last night.
One of her soldiers entered the tent, armor dirtied from travel. He saluted quickly before handing her a parchment.
"Report, Lady Solva."
Emilia broke the seal and skimmed through the rough handwriting. The words made her pause. Her soldiers had scouted the sites Aiden pointed out, and… it was true.
Her voice came out low, almost disbelieving.
"So… the slime wasn't lying. He really did wipe out those Volt camps."
The soldier hesitated, then added, "More than that, my Lady. The camps were destroyed utterly. No survivors, no stragglers. The smell of burning was still in the air when we arrived. His wolves must have done it. They even found… mass graves."
Emilia's hand tightened around the note. She remembered the sight of her comrades defiled by Volt's forces, the atrocities that had driven her to rebellion. She shut her eyes for a second, the weight of it pressing on her.
Finally, she exhaled sharply and set the parchment down.
"Very well. Mark the destroyed camps on the map. If nothing else…" She looked toward the tent where Aiden and Radomira rested. "…our new allies know how to keep their word."
Emilia then heard something Footsteps and someone who got up
Emilia froze, eyes widening as she turned.
There, sitting up in the cot, was her younger brother. His short blue hair was messy, his sapphire eyes half-lidded from just waking, but alive — truly alive. The scars that had once carved deep across his torso were gone. His breathing steady, no wheezing, no pain.
"Ederra…" Her voice cracked, the hardened commander breaking into just a sister for a moment. "You're awake."
Ederra groaned softly, rubbing his temple, confusion all over his face.
"Sister… what the hell? I'm… healed? I shouldn't even be able to stand, and yet…" He looked down at himself, his hands trembling. "It's like the wounds never existed."
Emilia's throat tightened as her hands clutched her staff. She could feel tears threatening, but she refused to let them fall in front of her soldiers. She forced herself to smile, just faintly.
"Not by me. That slime… Aiden. He gave us a potion unlike anything we've ever seen. It saved you."
Ederra blinked, then chuckled weakly, his voice rough but warm.
"A slime saved me? Hah… Sister, are you sure I'm not still dreaming?"
Emilia pressed her lips together, staring at her brother in disbelief. He was alive — truly alive — yet her heart refused to calm.
Ederra leaned back against the cot, his hand brushing over his healed chest, eyes distant. A faint, bitter smile tugged at his lips.
"You know…" he began, his voice rasping from disuse, "I thought we would never have healing potions again. After all, those are only for Volt's dogs."
The words hit Emilia harder than a blade. She clenched her staff, looking away toward the map sprawled across her tent table. How many villages had burned because Volt hoarded every herb? How many soldiers had died on the battlefield, not from their wounds, but because healing was treated as a privilege for loyalists and slavers?
Her brother's laugh was dry, hollow.
"And yet here I am, breathing because of one given freely… by a slime."
For a moment, silence filled the tent — heavy, suffocating. Emilia exhaled slowly, her voice low.
"Yes. That paradox of a slime may be dangerous… but he has done what no ally, no knight, no goddess has managed for me in years."
Ederra tilted his head, giving her a sideways glance.
"Then maybe, sister… it's time to stop asking if you can trust him, and start asking if you can afford not to."
Ederra's gaze slid to his sister, the edge of a smirk tugging at his mouth.
"Now… where's my sword?"
Before Emilia could answer, the camp's attention shifted.
Out in the center square, Aiden and Radomira had stopped dead in their tracks. There, driven into the earth, stood a massive blade — a buster sword taller than any man, its metal humming faintly with contained magic. The glow was familiar, resonant, almost echoing Volt's own cursed weapon… yet distinctly different, less tainted, more alive.
Radomira whispered under her breath, awestruck.
"That… that isn't Volt's."
Fenrir stirred within Aiden's mind, voice low and cautious.
"Master… whose sword is this? Its aura is not human."
Aiden narrowed his eyes, folding his arms.
"Whoever it belongs to… they're no ordinary warrior. That much I can tell."
The air rippled — as if the camp itself was holding its breath.
Then, from the edge of the gathering, footsteps echoed. Ederra, wrapped in fresh bandages, still weak from his long recovery, walked forward with purpose. His sharp eyes locked onto the blade as if no time had passed, as if his very soul had been waiting for this moment.
"Wait—" Aiden reached out instinctively to stop him.
But it was too late.
Everyone watched as Ederra stepped up to the towering weapon, placed both hands on its hilt, and in one smooth motion tore it free from the earth. Magic flared, singing through the steel as though rejoicing in his touch.
The man laughed — a low, relieved sound that carried through the camp.
"Ah! Back… same as always."
And just like that, with a single healing potion and a half-hearted decision to keep a wounded man alive… Aiden had once again spat in Volt's face.
Emilia's brother was no "background character."
He was another thorn in Volt's side.
And the world itself seemed to be laughing.
To be continued
Hope people like this ch and give me power stones and enjoy, also this is the last Ch for this week