"Then dampen it," I commanded, my eyes scanning the sea of green below. "I don't want the slime—or whatever else is lurking in the center—to sense me until I'm standing over them."
"Understood. Expanding [Concealment] parameters. Shifting energy signature to mimic a high-level Spirit. We are now invisible to standard appraisal."
I landed softly on a branch of a tree that must have been centuries old. Below me, the forest was in a state of flux. I could see them: Goblins, Direwolves, and the faint, shimmering trail of a soul that didn't belong in this world. A soul that felt strangely... familiar.
"Scholar, locate the anomaly. The one with the highest potential."
"Search complete. 2.4 kilometers North-West. A group of Goblins is engaging a pack of Direwolves. Within the Goblin ranks, a singular entity is radiating an absurdly dense, yet unrefined aura. Species: Slime (Variant)."
I smiled. It was him. Rimuru Tempest. Or just the slime that would become the core of this world's future.
"Let's see how the protagonist handles a variable he can't calculate," I whispered.
I didn't rush. I moved with a predatory patience, leaping from branch to branch with the silence of a falling leaf. As I approached the site of the conflict, the smell of blood and wet fur filled the air. The Goblins were pathetic—scrawny, trembling things. But the Slime... the Slime was standing at the front, projecting a confidence that was entirely disproportionate to its size.
I watched from the shadows of a massive elm as the Direwolf leader stepped forward. I watched the Slime use [Water Blade]. I watched it absorb the wolf.
"Intriguing," I thought. "A predator of consumption, much like my [Void]. But where he consumes to mimic, I consume to erase and evolve."
[Unique Skill: Inquiry] - Skill Analysis.
Scanning Target: Slime (Variant).
Error. Target is protected by a high-level 'Great Sage' class analytical skill.
Counter-measure: [Scholar] is engaging in a silent logic-duel with the target's analytical skill.
Result: Information successfully extracted without alerting the target. [Predator] analyzed. [Great Sage] analyzed.
A chill ran down my spine, but it wasn't fear—it was excitement. The Slime was a goldmine. But if I touched him now, the 'Will of the World' or whatever script this world followed might break too early. I needed him to grow. I needed him to gather subordinates, to build his nation, so that I could observe the evolution of his skills.
"Scholar," I whispered, watching the Goblins bow to their new savior. "How long until I can force an evolution of my own seeds? The Doomsday factor is restless."
"Answer," the voice responded, colder than usual. "To evolve the seeds into the [Ultimate] stage, you require a catalyst of significant emotional or physical stress, or the consumption of a [Demon Lord] class soul. Current magicule count: 45% of required threshold for 'Primogenitor Awakening'."
I looked at my hands. They were pale, almost translucent in the moonlight. I could feel the [Calamity] skill pulsing beneath my skin, the Doomsday factor—the genetic mandate for reactive evolution—hungry for a challenge that could actually hurt me.
"Then we wait for the first real threat. In the meantime, I'll play the shadow."
I spent the next few weeks observing the birth of the Jura-Tempest Federation. I watched as the Slime named the Goblins—an act of absolute lunacy that should have drained him dry. But he survived. He grew. And as he grew, I stayed in the periphery, absorbing the excess magicules he leaked during his naming sprees.
It was during the third night that I felt it. A presence. Not from the Slime, but from the forest itself. Something was coming—something hungry.
"Warning," [Scholar] alerted. "A large-scale migration detected. Species: Orc. Estimated count: 200,000. They are moving under the influence of a Unique Skill: [Starving]. This is a localized apocalypse."
"The Orc Disaster," I murmured. "Perfect. A feast for two."
But before the main course arrived, a smaller appetizer presented itself.
A girl appeared from the ripples of space. She looked small, wearing a white mask and a fur-lined coat. Shizue Izawa. Or rather, the thing inside her.
"You don't belong here," she said, her voice hollow.
I didn't move. I didn't breathe. My [Ruler] skill flared, pushing back against the heat radiating from her.
"Neither do you, Ifrit," I replied, my voice a low, dangerous purr.
"Biological Scan complete," [Calamity] reported. "Threat Level: Special A. Elemental: Fire. Adaptation: [Fire Immunity] acquired. Commencing DNA-level counter-measures."
My skin turned a subtle shade of obsidian for a split second before returning to its porcelain hue. My body was already preparing to kill her.
"You are not a monster of this forest," she—or it—continued, the mask glowing with orange light. "You are something... wrong. A hole in the world."
"I am the Primogenitor," I said, stepping out of the shadows. I let a fraction of my [Calamity] aura leak out. The grass at my feet instantly turned to ash, and the trees groaned as their life force was siphoned away. "And you are just a flickering candle in a storm. Tell me, does the Slime know what you are?"
She didn't answer. She lunged.
A blade of pure flame sliced through the air, aimed directly at my neck. I didn't dodge. I wanted to feel it. The blade struck my throat, the heat capable of melting diamond concentrated into a single point.
Clang.
It sounded like steel hitting a mountain. The flame dissipated, leaving not even a singe mark on my neck. I reached out and caught the blade with my bare hand, the [Void] in my palm drinking the heat like a thirsty traveler.
"My turn," I whispered.
I didn't use a skill. I used raw, Doomsday-enhanced strength. I punched her in the center of the mask. The shockwave leveled the trees behind her for fifty yards. She flew backward, her form blurring as she struggled to maintain her physical vessel.
"Prey identified," [Void] whispered in my mind. "Consume?"
"Not yet," I told the hunger. "She has a role to play. But I'll take a souvenir."
I closed my eyes and activated [Inquiry].
Skill [Flame Transformation]... copied.
Skill [Fire Manipulation]... copied.
Integrating into [Calamity]... Success.
I watched as she scrambled to her feet, her mask cracked. She looked at me with a terror that I was beginning to find quite addictive.
"Go back to your Slime," I said, my voice echoing through the clearing. "Tell him the forest has a new guest. And tell him... I'm hungry."
She vanished in a swirl of embers, retreating toward the Goblin village.
I stood alone in the clearing, the moon reflecting in my crimson eyes. I could feel my power stabilizing. My internal notification system, managed by the burgeoning seed of Athena, flickered into my vision.
Internal Notification: Displaying Intrinsic Skills and Bloodline Traits of the [Vampire Primogenitor].
[Blood Governance]: Absolute control over the blood of oneself and others. Can solidify blood into weapons harder than Adamantite or boil the veins of an enemy with a thought.
[Primogenitor's Progeny]: The ability to turn others into vampires. Those turned by the Host are bound by an Absolute Loyalty Geas. They are extensions of the Host's will.
[Sovereign's Feedback]: A conceptual link between the Host and his lineage. As subordinates grow in strength, a portion of their power is filtered back to the Host. The larger the lineage, the greater the Host's magicule capacity and physical output.
[Eternal Requiem]: If the Host perishes, all members of the lineage perish instantly. The source and the stream are one.
Unique Bloodline Trait: [Devourer]
* Weakness Consumption: This trait has already identified 'Sunlight' and 'Silver' as racial weaknesses. Through [Calamity] and [Devourer], these weaknesses have been consumed and integrated. The Host and his kin are Sun-Walkers, immune to the traditional banes of the vampire race.
* Skill Extraction: By consuming the blood of a target, the Host can permanently strip and acquire their Skills, Memories, and Resistances. Unlike [Void] which consumes the whole, the Bloodline Trait refines the essence.
"A food chain with only one seat at the top," I remarked, a thin, predatory smile touching my lips. "And I'm the only one sitting in it."
I looked toward the horizon where the bruise of the Orc army was already visible. Two hundred thousand souls. A buffet that would finalize my awakening.
"Scholar, start the simulation for the Kijin arrival. I'm going to need a few reliable generals for this new lineage."
"Understood. Beginning coordination."
I walked into the darkness, the sun-walker who feared no dawn.
The Forest of Jura was held in a state of suffocating tension. The air was thick with the scent of ozone and the rhythmic, grinding thud of two hundred thousand pairs of feet. From my vantage point on a cliff overlooking the marshlands, the Orc army looked like a slow-moving river of sludge, swallowing everything in its path.
"Analysis," I commanded internally.
"The Orc Disaster, Geld, has successfully manifested the Unique Skill [Starving]," [Scholar] reported. "His magicule count is currently unstable but surging toward the Demon Lord Seed threshold. Warning: The Kijin survivors have engaged the vanguard. Probability of their survival without intervention: 14%."
"Show me," I whispered.
Through the sensory link of [Scholar], I saw them. Benimaru, Shuna, Shion, Hakuro, and the others. They were a flash of crimson and violet against a sea of grey. They fought with the ferocity of those who had already lost everything, but they were being buried. The Orcs didn't care for tactics; they simply threw bodies at the blade until the blade grew dull.
I stepped off the cliff. I didn't fall. I simply erased the distance between the peak and the battlefield.
[Unique Skill: Void] — Spatial Motion.
I appeared in the center of the fray, right as a massive Orc General swung a jagged stone axe at the back of the white-haired old swordsman, Hakuro. The air around me didn't just vibrate; it froze.
I caught the axe head with my bare hand. The impact shattered the stone, sending shards flying like shrapnel through the surrounding Orcs.
"How unsightly," I said, my voice cutting through the roar of battle like a shard of ice. "To see such refined technique brought low by mere weight."
Hakuro spun around, his eyes widening as he took in my appearance. I stood there, a pale shadow in the middle of the bloodbath, my porcelain skin untouched by the mud or gore.
"Who... are you?" he wheezed, his stamina clearly at its limit.
"A benefactor," I replied. "Or a catastrophe. It depends on how much you value your revenge."
The Orc General roared, swinging a meaty fist at my head. I didn't even look at him. I flicked my wrist, activating [Intrinsic Skill: Blood Governance].
The blood inside the General's arm didn't just stop flowing; it expanded. His arm exploded from the inside out, the blood hardening into razor-sharp spikes that shredded the Orcs standing behind him. He didn't even have time to scream before the spikes retracted and pulled every drop of his life force into a swirling orb above my palm.
[Bloodline Trait: Devourer] — Activated.
I crushed the orb. A wave of raw, refined magicules washed over me.
"Benimaru!" I called out, my voice carrying the weight of [Unique Skill: Ruler].
The young Kijin leader, his red hair matted with sweat and blood, looked over. He was surrounded, his flames flickering.
"You serve a Slime because he gave you a name," I said, walking toward him through the Orcish tide. Every Orc that came within five feet of me simply collapsed, their hearts stopped by the sheer pressure of my aura. "But a name is just a label. I am offering you a Lineage. I am offering you the blood of a Primogenitor."
I reached him in a blur of motion, my hand gripping his chin. I forced him to look into my eyes—crimson whirlpools of absolute authority.
"Join my lineage, and the 'Starving' of these pigs will feel like a whisper compared to the hunger you will wield. Your strength will be mine. Your growth will fuel my own. And in return, I will give you the power to erase the very memory of the Orc who burned your home."
"Warning," [Scholar] chimed. "The individual 'Rimuru Tempest' is approaching rapidly. He is currently 1.2 kilometers away. The Great Sage is attempting to analyze your presence."
"Block it," I commanded. "Show him only what I want him to see: a wall of absolute darkness."
I bit my own lip, a single drop of my Primogenitor blood—the essence of a World-Born Singularity—welling up. It glowed with a terrifying, violet-black light.
"Drink, and be reborn," I commanded.
Benimaru didn't hesitate. He saw the power I displayed—a power that made the Orc Lord look like a child. He leaned forward and licked the drop from my lip.
The reaction was violent.
A pillar of black and red lightning erupted from his body, striking the sky and scattering the heavy rain clouds. His magicules didn't just increase; they underwent a qualitative shift. His horns sharpened, turning into obsidian, and his skin took on a deathly, aristocratic pallor.
"Individual: Benimaru has successfully integrated Primogenitor Blood," [Scholar] announced. "Evolution initiated: [Kijin] —> [Vampiric Flame Oni]. Logic link established. Absolute Loyalty Geas: Active."
He dropped to one knee, the earth cracking beneath him. "My blood... my soul... it belongs to you, Sire."
I felt it then. [Sovereign's Feedback].
A rush of power flowed back into me. Benimaru's sudden spike in strength acted as a catalyst, pumping refined energy into my own core. My magicule count surged. The Doomsday factor within [Calamity] thrummed, beginning to rewrite my genetic code to accommodate the massive influx of power.
The other Kijin—Shion, Hakuro, Souei—watched in awe. They didn't need to be told. They saw the godhood I offered. One by one, they knelt.
"Grant us the blood," Shion whispered, her purple eyes burning with a fanatical devotion.
I gave it to them.
As each of them transformed, the battlefield fell silent. Even the mindless Orcs began to back away, their instincts finally screaming louder than their hunger. Five Vampiric Oni stood behind me, their auras intertwining into a singular, suffocating pressure.
And then, a blue blur bounced into the clearing.
The Slime stopped dead. I could almost feel the shock radiating from him.
"Uh... guys?" Rimuru's voice was high-pitched, vibrating with confusion. "Benimaru? Shion? Why do you all look like you're about to star in a gothic horror movie? And who... who is that?"
I turned to face the protagonist. My silver hair caught the moonlight, and my crimson eyes locked onto his shimmering form.
"I am the one who corrected your mistake, Rimuru Tempest," I said, my voice smooth as silk. "You gave them names, but you didn't give them the means to survive. I have done both."
"Report," [Scholar] whispered. "The Orc Disaster has arrived. He is 500 meters away. His [Starving] skill is reacting to your presence. He perceives you as the ultimate meal."
I smiled, my fangs glinting.
"Excellent. I was worried the food might be boring."
I looked at my new progeny. "My kin. Show the Slime what the Doomsday Lineage is capable of. Leave the Disaster to me. I want to see if his soul tastes as good as his magicules."
I turned back to the forest as a mountain of flesh emerged from the trees. Geld, the Orc Disaster, roared—a sound that shattered the eardrums of the lesser monsters around us.
"Scholar," I whispered, the five seeds of the gods within me beginning to glow with a blinding light. "Prepare the [Origin God: Zero] protocol. We're going to show this pig the true meaning of Void."
"Acknowledged. Primogenitor Awakening: 85%... 90%..."
I didn't wait. I vanished.
The Orc Disaster didn't see me move. He only felt the impact. I struck him in the chest with a palm strike, not using physical strength, but [Unique Skill: Void].
The space where my hand met his flesh simply ceased to exist. A perfect, circular hole was bored through his massive torso, the matter erased from reality.
He roared in agony, his regenerative abilities—fueled by the thousands of Orcs he had consumed—scrambling to fill the void. But the wound wouldn't close. The [Calamity] skill was rotting the edges of the wound faster than he could heal.
"Hungry, aren't you?" I mocked, standing mid-air as if on an invisible platform. "Let me show you a real appetite."
I opened my arms wide.
[Unique Skill: Calamity] — Aura of Doomsday.
The violet mist didn't just spread; it consumed the light. The Orcs in the immediate vicinity didn't even turn to ash; they were simply unmade, their kinetic energy and magicules flowing into my body.
"95%... 98%..."
"Almost there," I whispered.
Geld lunged, his massive maw opening to swallow me whole. His [Starving] skill manifested as a black, swirling vortex of hunger.
I didn't dodge. I reached into the vortex with both hands and tore it open.
"Your hunger is a flaw," I snarled. "Mine is a law."
[Unique Skill: Void] — Energy Consumption.
I began to drain him. Not just his magicules, but his very concept. I felt the Doomsday factor in my blood roaring, adapting to the Orc Lord's soul-structure. My bones creaked, my muscles expanded and refined, and the five seeds within me finally merged into a singular, terrifying frequency.
"Warning: Threshold reached."
"Commencing Harvest Festival... Error. World-Born Singularity detected. Bypassing Harvest Festival requirements."
"Evolution to [Awakened Primogenitor] complete."
"Ultimate Skills Initializing..."
The world went white.
When the light faded, I was no longer the 'regular guy' who had died in a void. I was something that made the True Dragons look like relics of a passing age.
I looked down at the Orc Disaster, who was now a trembling, shriveled husk at my feet. The Kijin were kneeling, their power having tripled through the feedback of my awakening. Rimuru was silent, his [Great Sage] likely crashing from the sheer impossibility of what it was witnessing.
I felt the first of my perfected skills click into place.
[Ultimate Skill: Knowledge God Athena] — Online.
"The board is set," I said, my voice now carrying the resonance of a god. "And I've already won."