The heavy doors of Dwargon's council chamber groaned shut behind Rimuru and his companions. The echoes of Kaijin's verdict still lingered in the air—final and firm, but not without mercy.
Nova's crimson eyes glimmered faintly under the dim torchlight as they stepped back into the bustling streets. The dwarven kingdom, though harsh in judgment, had revealed its unyielding strength. Every stone, every glance from the citizens carried the weight of discipline and pride.
"Quite the lesson in politics," Nova murmured, folding his arms as his cloak swayed. "Strength isn't always about blades or magic. Sometimes, it's about knowing where to kneel… and where to stand tall."
Rimuru, still in his slime form, hopped forward with a sigh. "I was hoping this would be easier. Guess nothing really goes smoothly, huh?"
Ciel's voice echoed in Nova's mind, calm and analytical. [Correction: Your expectations were unrealistic. Power draws conflict as flame draws moths. You and Rimuru will face this pattern repeatedly.]
A faint smirk tugged at Nova's lips. "You make it sound like we're cursed."
[Not cursed. Chosen. Whether by fate or by consequence, you are already bound to greater events.]
Kaijin and his companions walked slightly behind, their expressions mixed with relief and regret. Nova's gaze lingered on them briefly. Men who had lost much, but still carried their pride with stubborn resilience. He could respect that.
As they exited through the grand gates of Dwargon, the mountain winds hit them with a crisp, biting chill. The city of stone shrank behind them, swallowed by distance and shadow as the group followed the narrow path winding down the mountainside.
Rimuru broke the silence. "So… Nova. What's your take on all this? Think we made the right move?"
Nova paused at the cliff's edge, looking at the kingdom one last time. His voice carried a rare gravity.
"Every choice carries weight, Rimuru. You won mercy today, not victory. Mercy is fragile. It can turn to hostility with the smallest spark. Don't mistake it for permanent peace."
Rimuru quieted, his usual cheer subdued. Even the goblins following behind shuffled nervously, feeling the tension.
Ciel interjected softly in Nova's mind. [Observation: You withheld reassurance. Was that intentional?]
"Of course," Nova whispered back within. "If he's to lead, he must learn the cost of choices. Better to feel the weight now than when it's too late."
Hours passed as the group descended the mountain trail. The path was treacherous, but Nova moved with an ease that belied his imposing form. His senses stretched outward, catching faint disturbances in the wind, in the forest below. Watching. Waiting.
At one point, his gaze flicked to the shadows of the trees lining the road. Something was there—too subtle for the others to notice. A figure, cloaked in heat and hunger. But Nova did not call it out. Not yet.
Instead, he turned his attention back to Rimuru. "Once we return to Tempest, what's your plan?"
Rimuru tilted slightly, as if considering. "I want to make it a place people can call home. A real nation… not just for monsters, but for anyone who wants to live in peace."
Nova's eyes softened, just barely. Ambition like that was dangerous… but admirable.
"Then be ready to defend it," he said simply.
The goblins, hearing this, puffed their chests proudly. Kaijin chuckled under his breath, perhaps remembering why he had chosen to follow.
The road stretched endlessly before them, winding into forests that seemed to whisper with unseen eyes. For a brief moment, Nova tilted his head back, gazing at the expanse of sky above—vast, unbroken, merciless.
"Beyond these mountains," he said, almost to himself, "the true journey begins."
The words lingered in the crisp mountain air, heavier than the cold wind that cut across the path. Nova's gaze remained fixed on the horizon, where clouds drifted lazily over distant ridges. But within his chest, something stirred—a familiar, restless pull that whispered of challenges yet unseen.
The goblins, trailing close behind, exchanged looks. None of them fully grasped Nova's meaning, but his tone made their hearts race. To them, his voice was a prophecy, and prophecies demanded reverence.
Rimuru hopped forward with a cheerful bounce, breaking the tension. "Well, then! Sounds like things are only gonna get crazier from here. Not that I mind."
Nova allowed the corner of his mouth to twitch. "You say that now."
Ciel's calm whisper returned within him. [Observation: Rimuru masks unease with levity. His behavior mirrors your own tendency to understate threats.]
"Difference is," Nova thought back, "I do it knowing full well what's coming."
[Correction: You only suspect. You lack precise foresight.]
"True," Nova admitted silently, "but I don't need foresight to know war follows ambition. Rimuru's dream is large enough to rattle the world itself."
The group pressed on. As the trail curved, the forest grew denser, shadows stretching long under the late afternoon sun. Birds called distantly, yet the air felt oddly still, as if waiting.
Kaijin grunted, adjusting the pack on his shoulder. "Been years since I've left Dwargon's safety. Almost feels like the mountains themselves are watching us go."
"They are," Nova replied simply, his voice low. "Every step echoes. The land remembers those who pass through it."
The dwarves blinked, unsure if he spoke metaphor or truth. Rimuru tilted his head curiously. "You mean… literally?"
Nova did not answer.
By nightfall, they made camp along a clearing where the mountain path widened into a flat ridge. A fire flickered to life, sparks drifting upward like lost stars. The goblins huddled together, sharing quiet conversation, while Kaijin began to prepare a simple stew.
Rimuru plopped himself near the flames, his slime body reflecting the firelight in wavering hues. "Man, this feels nostalgic. Guess camping out like this is gonna be our new normal."
Nova stood slightly apart, his silhouette outlined by moonlight. His crimson eyes scanned the darkness beyond the circle of firelight, unwavering.
"Why do you always stand so far away?" Rimuru asked, curiosity in his tone.
Nova's response was quiet, but sharp enough to cut the air. "Because something must always watch the dark."
The goblins stiffened, unconsciously inching closer to the fire. The forest, for all its beauty, suddenly felt less welcoming.
Ciel's voice intruded again, cool and relentless. [Your vigilance borders on paranoia.]
"Borders?" Nova replied inwardly. "No. It is paranoia. And it's kept me alive this long."
The stew simmered, and soon its earthy aroma filled the air. Kaijin ladled portions into bowls, handing them out with practiced hands. Even Nova accepted one, though he remained standing. He ate in silence, eyes never leaving the treeline.
Rimuru, watching him, spoke again. "You know… you really don't have to shoulder everything alone. We're a team now, aren't we?"
For the first time that night, Nova looked at him fully. The firelight caught the sharp angles of his human form, the faint scar that ran across his cheek like a reminder of old battles.
"A team…" Nova repeated softly. His gaze shifted to the goblins, their faces bright with hope despite their hardships. To Kaijin and his friends, who carried quiet burdens yet still laughed together. And finally back to Rimuru, whose dream threatened to reshape the very world.
For a fleeting second, Nova allowed himself to wonder—could this truly become more than a temporary alliance?
But the thought faded as quickly as it came. He set down the bowl, his voice returning to its usual weight. "If you believe that, Rimuru, then be prepared to prove it. Words are cheap. The world listens only to strength."
Rimuru fell quiet, his round form reflecting the fire's glow. Yet in the silence, something within him hardened.
---
As the night deepened, the forest grew restless. Faint rustling echoed from beyond the ridge, too subtle for most ears. But Nova's senses sharpened instantly. He rose without a word, his cloak whispering against the stone.
The goblins noticed first, their chatter dying as they followed his gaze.
"What is it?" one whispered nervously.
Nova's hand hovered near his blade, though he did not draw it. His voice was steady, calm. "Eyes in the dark. Watching. Measuring."
The fire popped, sending sparks spiraling upward. For long moments, nothing stirred. Then, just as suddenly, the presence faded. Whatever had been lurking slipped back into the forest, leaving only silence behind.
The goblins exhaled shakily. Rimuru tilted toward Nova. "You're not gonna tell us what that was, are you?"
Nova smirked faintly. "If it matters, you'll see it soon enough."
Dawn broke with a pale light, painting the mountains in hues of silver and gold. The group packed their belongings and set off again, descending further into the wilds.
As they walked, Nova's thoughts drifted inward. Ciel's voice broke the quiet of his mind once more. [Your path converges with Rimuru's more tightly than statistical models predicted. Every choice binds you further.]
"Maybe," Nova answered silently, his gaze lingering on Rimuru's small, bouncing form ahead. "But choice or fate, I'll see this path through. For better or worse."
The forest ahead stretched vast and endless. And somewhere beyond, destiny waited.
Interlude – A Story by the Fire
That night, after their campfire meal, Nova noticed the goblins were restless. The strange presence that had lingered outside their camp earlier still haunted their minds. Their eyes darted nervously at every shift of shadow.
Sighing softly, Nova sat down beside the fire for the first time. His crimson gaze flickered in the flames.
"Stories," he said, voice low but carrying. "They help the mind face fear. Would you like one?"
The goblins nodded eagerly, relief flashing in their eyes. Rimuru perked up too, bouncing a little closer. Even Kaijin leaned in, curious.
Nova's tone shifted—not lighter, but older, as if dust from forgotten centuries clung to his words.
"Once, long before humans carved kingdoms and demons ruled domains, the world was not divided. There was only Silence. And in Silence, the first question was asked: What does it mean to exist?
"The Silence cracked, and from it came two voices. One called itself Order, the other Chaos. They were not enemies, not yet, only two answers to the same question.
Order wished to shape Silence into rules: cycles of sun and moon, bonds between cause and effect, patterns that gave meaning. Chaos, however, wished to leave Silence wild, ever-changing, free from permanence.
Neither won. Their clash tore Silence apart, and from the fragments, the world as we know it was born."
The goblins leaned closer, enthralled. Nova's voice remained steady, like he had spoken this tale countless times before.
"Where Order pressed its hand, the mountains rose, firm and unmoving. Where Chaos left its breath, the seas churned endlessly. Forests grew between them, caught in the pull of both forces: rules of life and death, yet ever-shifting in seasons.
But… from the union of these forces, something unexpected stirred. Sparks of thought. Consciousness. The first beings opened their eyes in a world neither wholly Order nor wholly Chaos."
Kaijin frowned slightly, intrigued. "So… you're saying life itself was born as a mistake?"
Nova tilted his head. "Not a mistake. A compromise. Both forces gave, both forces lost."
"Those first beings were neither gods nor mortals. They were Witnesses. They watched the shaping of land, the rising of beasts, the forming of skies. But they could not act—they could only observe.
And to some, watching without acting is torment."
Rimuru felt a strange tug at that line, though he said nothing.
"One Witness broke the law. It reached into the woven threads of Order, twisted them with Chaos's breath, and gave shape to something new: willpower. From that defiance, the first true 'god' was born.
The others followed, some embracing Order, some falling to Chaos, some walking between. These became the Primordials, whose whispers still stir our world today."
The fire cracked loudly, making the goblins flinch. Nova's voice lowered further, a quiet edge cutting into each word.
"But remember this: the Witnesses did not vanish. They still linger, beyond mountains and stars, eyes unblinking. Some say every great change in history—every empire's fall, every hero's rise—is not fate or chance, but their gaze shifting, ever so slightly, toward something new.
And when their gaze lingers too long…"
Nova leaned forward, his scar catching the firelight.
"…the world itself changes."
The goblins shivered, both terrified and spellbound. Rimuru blinked, unsure whether Nova had told them history, myth, or warning.
Kaijin finally spoke. "That story… feels like more than a story."
Nova gave a thin smile, standing once more. "Every story is more than a story. The trick is deciding whether to believe it."
And with that, he turned his eyes once again to the dark forest.
(A/n: Hey everyone 👋
So, today I'll be honest—I only managed to finish one chapter. Originally, I wanted to release two, but motivation isn't something I can force on myself like a machine. That said, I didn't want this chapter to feel "less," so I decided to experiment a bit.
You'll notice that alongside the main story, I included a side short-story told within the chapter (the myth Nova shares by the fire). This wasn't random—it serves a few purposes:
1. Worldbuilding 🌍 – It expands the lore beyond what's immediately happening. Even if it's "just a story," it plants seeds about the bigger picture.
2. Atmosphere 🔥 – Having Nova tell the tale makes it feel organic, instead of dumping exposition.
This is part of an ongoing little experiment I'm doing: trying out different writing formats to see which flows best. Today's approach is more layered—main plot + side myth.all in one. I'd love to hear what you think about it.
Thanks for reading, and tomorrow we'll pick things back up with the next step in the journey.)