Chapter 11: The Venture Capital of Names
I sit on my silk-lined saddle, watching the Ogres eat with a savagery that would get them banned from any respectable country club.
"They're high-tier martial assets, Boss," I transmit to Rimuru. "Currently undervalued due to their 'displaced' status. If we offer them a long-term contract—protection and resources in exchange for security services—our village's defensive rating triples overnight."
"You really think of everything as a business deal, don't you?" Rimuru replies, sounding impressed and slightly tired.
"In a world without a functional legal system, a contract is the only thing that separates us from the savages," I retort.
Rimuru bounces toward the red-haired leader. "So, Benimaru. You guys don't have anywhere to go, right? Why not work for us? We'll give you food and a place to stay, and you help us protect the village."
Benimaru pauses, a piece of roasted meat halfway to his mouth. He looks at his companions—the pink-haired sister, the old swordsman, the others. They look tired. They look like a company facing a hostile takeover with zero liquidity.
"Work... for slimes?" the blue-haired Ogre scoffs, though he lacks his previous bite.
"Temporary employment," I pulse, my voice cutting through the crackle of the fire. "A fixed-term contract. Until you find your masked Majin. Think of it as a strategic alliance to consolidate resources."
Benimaru looks at me, then at Rimuru. "Fine. Until the debt to our fallen is paid, we will lend you our blades."
"Great!" Rimuru beams. "Then, to make it official... I should probably give you guys names, right? It worked for the Goblins."
Warning. Naming higher-tier monsters consumes significant magicule reserves. Suggestion: Intervene to prevent total bankruptcy.
Azathoth, you're telling me this now? He's already opening his mouth.
"Rimuru, wait—"
Too late.
"You'll be Benimaru! You're Shuna! You're Hakuro! You're Kurobe! You're Souei! And you're Shion!"
The air in the village doesn't just vibrate; it hums with a terrifying amount of raw energy being discharged. It's like watching someone liquidate an entire hedge fund in a single afternoon.
Notice. High-density magicule transfer in progress. Rimuru Tempest is entering 'Sleep Mode' to recover from massive resource expenditure.
Rimuru sags, his blue body losing its bounce as he goes dormant.
"Boss?" Rigurd panics, rushing forward.
"He's fine," I pulse, though I'm internally screaming at the lack of fiscal responsibility. "He's just over-leveraged his energy. He'll be back online once the 'transaction' processes."
I turn my attention to the Ogres. Or rather, what they are becoming.
Their bodies are shrouded in a thick, golden cocoon of magicules. Evolution. A forced upgrade.
[Analytical Appraisal]
Scanning Evolution Process... Resolution: Low. Species: Ogre → Kijin (Fair Oni). Power Level: Scaling significantly. Estimated completion time: 12 hours.
"Rigurd," I command, my dark surface shimmering with irritation. "Ensure the 'Kijin-to-be' are moved to a secure area. If they wake up hungry after an evolution like that, they'll eat the village's entire quarterly food supply."
"Yes, Lord Shinji! And what about Lord Rimuru?"
"Leave him. I'll monitor his recovery. I have some 'accounting' to do regarding our current magicule debt."
I float over to the dormant Rimuru, hovering in the cold night air. I look at the sleeping blue blob.
Azathoth, what's my current soul capacity? If I keep following this lunatic, am I going to end up as a glorified battery?
Analysis. Soul capacity is stable. However, the 'Lord of Continuity' warns that narrative drift is high. Survival is the priority.
"Survival is fine," I mutter internally, the Deadpool in my head sharpening a mental katana. "But I really wish survival came with a better dental plan and a heated pool."
Current Magicule Reserves: 98.4%. Location: Goblin Village (Night). Status: Rimuru in Sleep Mode. Ogres evolving. Total management responsibility: Shinji Satou.