Chapter 30 — Through the Fracture of Light
(Rimuru's Perspective)
Silence.
That was the first thing Rimuru felt — the kind of silence that didn't belong to the world of the living. It was too clean, too sharp, as if sound itself had been edited out of reality.
She stood at the edge of the distortion, her hand pressed against the invisible wall that separated her from it. The surface shimmered like broken glass suspended midair, reflecting a thousand versions of her — each one smiling a little differently.
> "So this is where she fell…"
Her voice echoed softly. She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. Within the shifting light, she could feel Aira's heartbeat — faint but steady, like a single thread stretched between two worlds.
"Always the stubborn one," Rimuru muttered, forcing a half-smile. "Didn't I tell you not to touch strange things that hum in the dark?"
The distortion pulsed once, answering her with static.
A faint laugh — Aira's laugh — reached her from the other side. It was distant, dreamlike, but warm enough to make Rimuru's hand tremble.
She exhaled. "Alright, I'm coming."
The air responded violently. Energy rippled around her, strands of color weaving across her arms — blue and crimson, chasing each other like lightning veins. Her reflection smirked back from the fractured glass.
> "You sure about this, Rimuru?" it asked. "Last time you crossed a boundary, it didn't end pretty."
She shrugged. "Yeah, but last time, she wasn't on the other side."
With that, she stepped forward.
The world fractured — and swallowed her whole.
---
The inside was… wrong.
Light bent in strange ways, colors twisting into shapes that didn't exist. Shadows whispered like they were alive, stretching longer than they should.
Every step Rimuru took left a glowing footprint that floated before fading.
She looked around — no streets, no sky, no sound. Just fragments of memory suspended in the void.
Aira's laughter. Her handwriting. The smell of that cheap cafeteria bread she loved. Pieces of her life scattered like broken glass.
Rimuru reached out, fingers brushing one of the floating shards.
It showed a moment — Aira sitting by the window, sunlight on her face, smiling as she hummed quietly.
Her chest tightened.
"She's fading into her own memories…" Rimuru murmured. "No wonder I couldn't reach her through the link."
Then she heard it — a low hum behind her. The kind that made the air taste like static.
A figure formed from the distortion itself — tall, formless, a silhouette made of fractured reflections.
> "You shouldn't have come here," it said. Its voice was dozens layered together, familiar and alien at once.
Rimuru tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "I get that a lot."
> "She belongs here now. You both do."
Rimuru laughed — softly, almost kindly.
"Cute. But if you think I'm letting you rewrite her like you did the others…"
Her aura flared — blue light streaked with red, swirling around her like a storm.
"…then you've clearly forgotten who I am."
The distortion screamed.
---
Outside, the night sky cracked faintly over the city.
And in her sleep, Aira whispered Rimuru's name —
not in fear,
but as if she knew that the laughter in the dark…
was coming to save her.