Chapter 20: The Middle Manager's Intervention
I [Spatial Motion] again, deeper into the dark, wet heart of the war.
The coordinate jump is jarring. Every time I fold space, I feel the friction of the swamp's stagnant magicules rubbing against my obsidian-sheened membrane. It's like traveling via a cheap budget airline—no legroom, questionable air quality, and the constant threat of a structural failure.
I materialize fifty feet above the waterline, hovering silently. Below me, the marsh has become a literal meat-grinder. The "Starving" trait I just siphoned is humming in my core, acting like a Geiger counter for pure, unadulterated gluttony.
Notice. Target: Orc Lord 'Geld' localized. He is surrounded by a Royal Guard of 2,000 high-density Orc Disaster units. Strategic Analysis: A frontal assault by the Goblins would result in a 98% casualty rate.
Azathoth, I didn't come here to watch a massacre. I came here to see who's funding this operation. The Orc Lord is too big for a local startup. There's a silent partner somewhere in the shadows.
Suddenly, the "Starving" signal in my head spikes. It's not just a hum anymore; it's a shriek. I look toward a raised mound of earth near the center of the Orc formation.
A figure is floating there. He's wearing an flamboyant, high-collared purple outfit that looks like it was designed by someone with a pathological hatred of subtlety. A bird-like mask hides his face.
"Yes! Eat! Consume everything!" the figure screeches, his voice dripping with the kind of manic over-acting that makes my internal Deadpool want to throw a brick. "Once you become a True Demon Lord, my master will finally recognize my genius! I, the Great Gelmud, have orchestrated it all!"
Analysis. Entity identified: Majin Gelmud. Threat Level: Moderate. Role: Instigator. Personality: Narcissistic, incompetent, middle-management archetype.
I knew it. This whole 'Orc Disaster' is just a botched social experiment by a guy who probably peaked in high school. He's trying to 'pivot' the entire forest into a Demon Lord factory.
"Gelmud..." I pulse, my voice a cold, telepathic razor that cuts right through his screeching.
Gelmud jerks his head around, his masked eyes scanning the air until they land on me—a silent, dark orb hovering in the mist.
"What? A slime? Here?" Gelmud laughs, a shrill, grating sound. "Did one of the experiments escape? Or are you just here to be the appetizers for the new King?"
"I'm the auditor," I pulse, expanding my [Transaction Domain] to encompass the mound.
The air instantly hardens. The frantic chanting of the Orcs near the mound dies down as the atmospheric pressure of the "High-Stakes Meeting" descends. Gelmud's flamboyant cape stops fluttering, pinned by the gravity of my domain.
"You've over-leveraged this forest, Gelmud," I broadcast, my internal persona sharpening into a lethal edge. "You've created a 200,000-unit liability that is currently eating into my projected ROI. I'm here to tell you that your contract with this forest is being terminated... with extreme prejudice."
"You... you dare threaten me?!" Gelmud snarls, raising a hand. Purple orbs of magicule energy—"Death March"—begin to form. "I am a high-level Majin! I serve the Demon Lords!"
Notice. [Law Manipulation – Copy] is standing by. Target is preparing a high-output magicule projectile. Suggestion: Replicate the 'Death March' trajectory laws to negate the attack.
Azathoth, don't just replicate it. I want the rights to his spatial positioning. If he thinks he can float around and look down on people, he's got another thing coming.
[Law Manipulation – Copy]
Acquiring [Magic Ball Manipulation]... Success. Warning: Soul Capacity usage at 31%.
"Your 'Death March' is a budget-tier spell," I pulse.
[Spatial Motion]
I blink. I don't appear in front of him. I appear behind him.
"And your positioning is amateur."
Before Gelmud can turn, the Orc Lord—a massive, armor-clad mountain of grey flesh—suddenly lunges. But he isn't lunging at me. He's looking at Gelmud. The "Starving" hunger isn't just a trait; it's a command.
"G-Geld? What are you doing?!" Gelmud screams as the Orc Lord's hand closes around his neck. "I gave you life! I gave you a name!"
"And now," the Orc Lord rumbles, his voice like grinding stones, "I will take your strength to save my people from the hunger you gave us."
Well. That's a hostile takeover if I ever saw one.
I float back, watching as the Orc Lord begins to literally consume his "creator."
Notice. Evolution triggered. The Orc Lord is integrating the Majin's magicules. Classification shifting: Orc Disaster → Demon Lord Seed.
"Rimuru," I transmit, my obsidian surface shimmering with a dark light. "The CEO just got eaten by the intern. We have a serious problem. The 'Orc Disaster' just went through a forced merger with a Majin... and the new entity is very, very hungry."
Current Magicule Reserves: 95.1%. Location: Inner Marshland. Soul Capacity: 31%. Status: Orc Lord evolution in progress. Gelmud liquidated.
Chapter End.