Chapter 19 — The Laugh in the Static
Midnight had a way of stretching time.
The city outside slept — or pretended to.
But between its sleeping breaths, something moved.
Rimuru stood on the edge of a rooftop, the wind pulling gently at her white hair. Her reflection shimmered faintly on the glass below, a second version of herself watching in silence.
She grinned down at it.
"Don't look at me like that," she said. "I'm working."
The reflection tilted its head, lips curling.
> "Working, or stalling?"
Rimuru sighed. "Both. You know how I multitask."
She glanced at the city — the lights flickering like nervous fireflies. The static in the air was thick tonight, crawling through her senses. She could feel the distortion spreading, little tears in the world's fabric that hummed with familiar danger.
"Always the same pattern," she murmured. "Starts as a whisper, ends as a mess I have to clean up."
Her hand brushed against her pocket — her phone. She'd sent Aira that warning minutes ago. It wasn't much, but it was all she had time for.
"Stay inside," she whispered again, as if saying it twice might change the timeline.
Then — a pulse.
A ripple of energy surged across the skyline, faint but sharp enough to make her skin prickle.
Her smile vanished.
"Oh no," she muttered. "She didn't stay inside, did she?"
---
A distortion flickered to her right — a ripple of air twisting into a shadowed humanoid shape. It had no eyes, no mouth, just a blank void that watched her in silence.
Rimuru rolled her neck with a light crack.
"You again," she said flatly. "Don't you people ever rest?"
It lunged.
Rimuru's foot slid back just slightly — her grin returned. "Guess not."
She met its strike mid-air, catching its arm in a blue shimmer of energy. Sparks danced across her fingertips as her aura flared — light blue at first, then streaked with faint red like her eyes reflecting the moon.
The creature hissed — a sound that wasn't sound at all — more like the static of broken reality.
Rimuru twisted her wrist. The air rippled like glass under stress.
"You're leaking again," she said, tone teasing. "Honestly, you guys are terrible at containment."
With a flick of her hand, the thing shattered — its body scattering into glittering fragments before dissolving into dust.
For a second, all was quiet again.
Then another ripple — this one larger.
Rimuru exhaled. "Great. Mini-boss time."
---
The world split.
From the darkness rose a creature unlike the others — humanoid, but massive, with mirror-like skin and a face that constantly shifted between forms. Her own reflection appeared on its chest for a moment — smiling.
"Okay, that's rude," Rimuru muttered. "Copying my face? At least buy me dinner first."
The monster's arm lashed out. Rimuru caught it mid-swing, boots skidding slightly against the rooftop gravel. The impact cracked the air.
For a moment, their eyes met — hers glowing bright red now, steady and alive.
"Let me guess," she said quietly. "You're after her, too."
The creature didn't answer — but the static in the air laughed.
And Rimuru laughed back.
"Bad move."
She snapped her fingers — and the air bloomed with color.
A circle of shifting light erupted beneath her feet, lines of blue, red, and silver pulsing outward.
The creature lunged again, but Rimuru was already moving — a blur of motion, each step leaving afterimages that shimmered like echoes.
The rooftop exploded with light.
---
When the glow faded, Rimuru stood amid drifting ash. Her coat fluttered gently in the wind. She looked tired — just a little — but her grin hadn't faded.
She reached out, palm facing upward. The residual energy collected into a faint orb — a memory trace. It shimmered, replaying an image: Ren's face.
Her expression softened.
"So, he's awake again," she whispered. "And near her, too."
For a second, something unguarded passed across her features — a flicker of worry, maybe even relief.
Then she caught herself and laughed.
"Great. Two emotionally complicated people in one place. What could possibly go wrong?"
---
As she turned to leave, a voice drifted through the static — faint, playful, and far too close to her ear.
> "You can't protect her forever, Rimuru."
She didn't flinch.
"Watch me," she replied, smiling faintly. "I've got eternity and terrible impulse control."
The static hissed, fading into nothing.
Rimuru looked down toward the city once more — where Aira's apartment lights still glowed faintly in the dark.
Her hand lingered in her pocket, brushing against her phone again.
For just a moment, she whispered — not a spell, not a command, but a quiet promise.
> "Hang on, Aira. I'm not done laughing yet."