A cold drop of rain splashed onto Rimuru's cheek. The sensation sent a faint shiver through his body, with the cold seeping into him like an unwelcome guest.
More followed— each droplet pattering against his skin, soaking into the fabric clinging to his frame.
His eyelids soon fluttered open, and through the blurred haze of his vision, he saw a sky of thick, gray clouds stretching endlessly above him. The muted figures of people moved past— their footsteps echoing softly against wet pavement.
Then, a stray droplet landed directly in his eye. With a wince, he squeezed his lids shut again.
His senses gradually sharpened. The rhythmic drizzle of rain, the distant hum of engines, the occasional chatter of pedestrians— it all felt strangely familiar yet unsettlingly distant.
A dull ache spread through his body as he became aware of just how uncomfortably cold he was. His damp clothes clung to his skin, the fabric heavy with moisture. There was an odd sense of detachment, as if these sensations should have been irrelevant to him—yet they weren't.
'Raphael… What happened?' Rimuru reached out mentally, though his thoughts were sluggish as he tried to recall how he got here.
For a moment, there was only silence.
He exhaled sharply and shifted, attempting to sit up. The simple movement sent a wave of unfamiliar soreness through his limbs.
'What is this?'
His body felt heavier than it should, his muscles resisting in a way they never had before. His hand pressed against the cold pavement for support as he pushed himself up.
A figure then caught his eye— a businessman in a dark suit, walking past him with an expression of mild disgust before averting his gaze and continuing without pause.
"Yeah, screw you too, buddy," Rimuru muttered under his breath.
At last, Raphael's voice resonated in his mind, its tone detached and clinical.
(Notice: Spatial data was nearly erased. Emergency reconstruction initiated.)
(Energy depletion at critical levels.)
(Core functions have been forcibly reactivated to stabilize form.)
(Summary of Status:)
(All Ultimate Skills, except [Raphael, have been lost.)
(Physical structure has been reconstructed with limitations.)
(Mortal constraints have been applied to sustain structural integrity.)
Rimuru froze, dread creeping into his gut.
"… Define 'mortal constraints,'" he whispered.
(Clarification: Your form has been adapted to align with this world's parameters. Limitations include:)
(Metabolic processes now require sustenance: food, water, and oxygen intake are mandatory.)
(Sleep cycles are required for cognitive and physical restoration.)
(Excretory functions have been enabled to maintain biological efficiency.)
(Pain receptors have been reactivated for survival adaptability.)
A strangled noise caught in Rimuru's throat. 'W-Wait, wait, hold on— excretory functions? What the hell do you mean by—?'
Before he could finish the thought, he shifted his weight by attempting to stand. A wave of dizziness proceeded to then strike him like a hammer. And soon, his foot was caught against the uneven pavement, and the world lurched sideways.
He barely registered the startled yelps of a group of schoolgirls as they scattered out of the way.
"Yabai! Ki o tsukete yo!" One of them called as he crashed face-first into the pavement.
Laughter followed, awkward and uncomfortable.
"Are wa nan da? Chotto kowai…" Another muttered before they hurried off.
Rimuru groaned into the wet ground. Pain pulsed through his nose as he pushed himself up slowly, all while feeling an odd, sticky sensation. He reached up to touch his face. When he pulled his hand away, strands of translucent blue slime clung to his fingers. It was as if he were bleeding.
(Correction: You do not possess standard human anatomy. Your body remains composed of slime-based organic matter. However, sensory feedback has been modified to mimic human biological responses.)
'So you're telling me I'm still a slime… But now I get to feel things like pain and hunger? Wonderful.'
A couple then walked past— their voices just low enough that he barely caught the woman whispering to her companion, "Ano hito, YouTuber ni narou to shita kedo, shippai shite ima wa yoi no otoko mitai."
The man snorted. "Maa, nihon ni wa yoku iru yo ne."
Rimuru narrowed his eyes, his mind working sluggishly to piece together their words. 'Hold up… Was that Japanese? Did people always speak it that fast?'
(Affirmative.)
(Current auditory processing is 72% efficient. Language comprehension remains intact, but fluency has degraded.)
'Fantastic. I can barely understand them, and they think I'm some kind of washed-up e-celebrity.'
He then exhaled sharply, before carefully pushing himself back onto his feet. His body still felt off— like he was wearing a suit two sizes too small.
(Additional report: Access to interdimensional storage, teleportation, and magic nullification has been revoked.)
Rimuru let out a breathless chuckle. "Yeah, well, not like magic nullification would've done much good here anyway," he muttered. "… At least I don't think it would have."
Absent-mindedly, he began patting down his pockets, searching for anything useful. His fingers brushed against empty fabric. His stomach twisted.
'Nothing.'
And as he weaved through the crowd, he spotted an alleyway and slipped inside, before pressing his back against the cold brick wall.
'Alright, Raphael… What about you? You holding up okay?'
A brief pause.
(Notice: System diagnostics indicate partial data loss. Memory integrity at 3.32%. Core processing remains functional.)
Rimuru let out a low whistle. 'So you got hit too… Damn.'
He tried to lighten the mood, but the weight of everything bore down on him. The cold. The dampness. The unfamiliarity.
His hands then began to clenched into fists. A sharp inhale. Then, in a sudden burst of frustration, he pivoted and kicked the nearest object— a rusted trash can.
The metal gave way like paper. His foot went straight through— sending dented fragments skidding across the alley floor.
For a moment, he simply stared.
Then, something like hope flickered in his chest. He straightened, brushing damp strands of hair from his face.
'Hey, Raphael… What's my current power level?'
A pause. Then, the AI's response:
(Assessment in progress...)
A moment passed in silence as Rimuru waited, his breath shallow from the lingering frustration still bubbling under his skin.
The rain drummed softly against the pavement, the dull, rhythmic sound doing little to soothe his nerves. He ran a hand through his damp silver-blue hair, slicking it back as Raphael finally responded.
(Notice: Power assessment complete.)
(Current Physical Parameters:)
(Strength: 28% of prior output.)
(Speed: 32% of prior output.)
(Durability: 35% of prior output.)
(Regeneration: 14% efficiency.)
(Magicule reserves: 2.6% remaining.)
(Passive replenishment: enabled.)
(Overall Combat Proficiency: Above standard human levels. Ability to engage in combat remains viable.)
Rimuru let the words sink in. His fingers twitched slightly. The numbers weren't surprising— he already felt weaker than before— but seeing them laid out so plainly still made his stomach tighten.
He then exhaled slowly, while leaning back against the cold brick wall behind him.
'Alright… So I'm nowhere near my prime, but I'm still above human. That's something.'
He then glanced at his hand, before flexing his fingers experimentally. They still worked. He still felt like himself. But he wasn't invincible anymore. If he wasn't careful, he could die— again.
That thought alone sent a shiver down his spine.
'I need to get my bearings. Find out where I am… And most importantly, I need food.'
As if on cue, his stomach made an uncomfortable twist— like it was hollowing itself out. For the first time in his new life, he felt a gnawing hunger clawing at his insides.
It was an alien sensation— almost insulting— but he had no choice but to deal with it.
Rimuru's gaze then began drifting toward the busy street beyond the alley— watching as waves of pedestrians hurried along the sidewalk, with umbrellas bobbing in rhythm with their strides.
None of them paid him any mind. Not a single glance of concern, no hesitation in their steps. He had just been another nobody on the pavement in their eyes.
He swallowed down the creeping bitterness in his throat, averting his eyes to the ground. 'Am I back in Tokyo?' He wondered, his brows knitting together.
Everything fit— the towering buildings, the language, the people. It wasn't like he had anywhere else in mind. 'This has to be my universe… Right?'
A lump formed in his throat at the thought. The idea should have been comforting, but something about it twisted in his gut like a bad omen. He had fought so hard to build Tempest, to carve out a place where he belonged, and now—
A sudden rustling sound cut through his thoughts, followed by the metallic clatter of cans rolling against the pavement. Rimuru instinctively turned toward the noise, his pulse quickening as his eyes landed on the source.
Further down the alley, a shadow shifted beside a dumpster. At first, the slime expected to see a homeless man rummaging through garbage. Instead, what he saw made him freeze in place.
A figure clad in dented, bloodstained armor rose from the filth like some forgotten specter. The dull silver plates were marred with grime and dried streaks of red, and with a dark gambeson beneath soaked from the rain.
The figure's helmet— resembling that of an old-fashioned knight— slowly turned, the narrow eye slits locking onto Rimuru with unsettling precision.
Rimuru stiffened, his body tensing. His eyes flicked down toward the gloved hand gripping a short sword, its edge glistening with fresh crimson.
'What the hell am I looking at?' He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to stay calm. 'Raphael, what's this guy's deal?'
(Notice: Insufficient data.)
Rimuru groaned internally. 'Useless.' He sighed— rolling his shoulders, before cautiously clearing his throat. Lifting a hand, he waved awkwardly at the armored figure.
"Uh… Kon'nichiwa?" The words came out clumsy, his Japanese more than a little rusty. He tensed slightly, watching for any reaction.
The armored man didn't move at first. His grip on the sword remained firm. But then, his gaze— or at least, the vague impression of it— lowered slightly, focusing on the slime's raised hand, before shifting to his weapon.
After a beat of silence, he finally spoke.
"… I apologize." He said in a voice that was level, but rough, and was tinged with a strange accent. He sheathed the sword at his hip with deliberate care, before looking back at Rimuru. "I don't understand you."
Rimuru's eyes narrowed slightly. 'That accent… doesn't sound Japanese at all.' It was subtle, but there was a slight roughness to his syllables.
Switching gears, Rimuru tried again, this time in English. "… Is this better?"
The armored man nodded. "Yes."
An awkward silence settled between them, filled only by the steady patter of rain. Both of them, though still wary, visibly relaxed— shoulders loosening ever so slightly, body language becoming less defensive.
Rimuru exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms. "So… Are you American, or something?"
The knight— or whatever he was— tilted his head slightly at the question. "No," he replied, as if the very idea was strange. "I am human."
Rimuru barely held back a snort. 'Oh god. He's one of those types.' He thought to himself, while unable to help but to grin slightly at the absurdity of the response. "Right. Sovereign citizen. Got it."
The man remained silent, his helmeted head tilting ever so slightly, as if trying to understand Rimuru's amusement.
Shaking his head, the androgynous slime decided to move on. "Alright, where are you from, then?"
"The frontiers," the armored man answered without hesitation.
"Of course you are." Rimuru let out a quiet chuckle, rolling his eyes. "Okay, so what is this? A prank video? Some role-playing thing? Maybe a YouTube skit?" He asked, before gesturing vaguely at him. "Or are you being filmed for Facebook? You know, LARPing?"
The armored man stared at him through his visor. After a pause, he simply stated, "I don't know what any of those things are."
Rimuru blinked. The casual confidence in that statement caught him off guard.
He expected some kind of protest, or at the very least, a sheepish admittance. Instead, the guy just flatly denied knowing what any of those things were, as if the words themselves were foreign to him.
"… Sure, buddy," the slime muttered— still skeptical.
"I am not lying," the knight responded patiently, "If that's what you're insinuating
The slime simply exhaled through his nose,before rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah, yeah…" He murmured, while glancing down at his stomach— frowning, as a dull ache reminded him that he hadn't eaten in however long it had been since he woke up.
Deciding to level with the guy, he sighed dramatically. "Look, man. I'm broke. I don't have anything but the clothes on my back, and I'm starving. And since you're the only guy who's actually sociable enough to talk to me, how about you spot me some money?"
The knight was silent for a moment before giving a small nod. "I will see what I can part with."
Rimuru watched with mild curiosity as the armored man reached into the leather pouch attached to his belt. He pulled out a small coin purse, worn but well-kept, with an embroidered flower on the front.
'Huh. Didn't take him for the floral type.'
The skepticism in Rimuru's gaze quickly shifted into something else as the knight pulled out a handful of silver coins. The metallic glint was unmistakable, and for a brief moment, the slime thought he was seeing things.
The knight counted them carefully, the rain tapping against his armor as he did. Finally, he spoke. "This should be enough for a room for the night as well."
Rimuru barely registered the words. His eyes remained locked on the coins. 'Raphael, tell me those are real.'
(Assessment in progress...)
The slime then slowly stepped forward, keeping his expression neutral as he closed the distance between them. "Thanks for the generosity," he said smoothly, while reaching out to take the coins. He poked at them experimentally, feeling their weight in his palm.
(Notice: Silver purity is 99.3%.)
(Etchings indicate the use of "Common" script.)
Rimuru's smirk deepened— his suspicions finally confirmed. He flipped a coin between his fingers, reading the inscription before chuckling. "Well, well. You really aren't from around here, huh?"
The knight didn't react much. He merely stated, "I do not know where 'here' is."
Rimuru pocketed the money, his intrigue in the mysterious armored man deepening. He then averted his eyes, with his lips pressing into a thin line before looking back at the man's helmet. "Alright, let's try something else. Does the name "Jura-Tempest Federation" ring a bell?"
Goblin Slayer shook his head. "No."
He frowned. "N-No? Are you sure?"
"Yes."
Rimuru clicked his tongue. "The name "Tempest" carries a lot of weight where I'm from, you know," he mused, before letting out an uncomfortable laugh. "Besides… You answered that a little too quickly, don't ya think? Maybe give it some thought, and then try again?"
The armored man then placed a gloved hand under his helmet's chin, as if concentrating. Rimuru watched with silent anticipation, waiting for a glimmer of recognition in the man's posture.
Eventually, he lowered his hand. "… I still don't what that is."
Rimuru groaned. "Well, you're definitely not from where I'm from— that's for certain."
There was a pause as he stared at the knight more intently now— scrutinizing every detail about him.
The way he stood, the way he carried himself— like a soldier hardened by years of battle. But more than that, he had the air of someone who had survived something terrible.
Rimuru had seen that kind of look before.
Finally, the armored man shifted slightly— sensing the slime's yellow-eyed gaze, before asking him, "… What are you doing?"
"Thinking." Rimuru casually replied. And after A beat passed, he suddenly snapped his fingers. "Alright, new idea! You got any kind of identification on you?"
Hearing that sudden request made the armored man visibly hesitate. "… Why do you need it?"
Rimuru shrugged. "Because, now I'm actually starting to believe you, and I just need something to further prove that you're not completely full of crap."
The knight tilted his head slightly at him, before finally reaching beneath his collar to pull out a steel tag hanging from a simple cord. The metal was rough, scratched from years of wear, yet still intact. He unclasped it from his neck and held it out.
Rimuru then took the tag between his fingers. The texture was cold, slightly damp from the rain. He turned it over, reading the engraving. His brows furrowed.
"… "Goblin Slayer."" He read aloud, before looking up to squint at the man in front of him. "So, like… Is that your actual name?"
The armored figure took the tag back, and secured it around his neck once more. "Yes."
The slime continued to stare expectantly at him. "… Like, on purpose?"
"Yes."
A slow, incredulous breath then proceeded to leave Rimuru's mouth. "… And you just go around introducing yourself like that? No one says anything to you?"
"No," Goblin Slayer replied flatly. "It's my name, because it's what I do."
Rimuru rubbed his temples. "Okay, y'know what? Fine. Whatever. Let's move on." He said dismissively— turning and then mentally reviewing his next steps, before pausing. A thought struck him, and he glanced back at the armored man with a more scrutinizing look. "… Actually, wait— let's talk more about that. What's your whole stance on goblins?"
Goblin Slayer's helmet shifted slightly as he turned toward him. "They are monsters. They must be exterminated."
Rimuru blinked. "… Wow. Alright. That's… A little excessive."
Hearing that didn't make the armored man visibly react.
The slime then exhaled sharply, before crossing his arms over his flat chest. "Look, I get that goblins have a bad rap in a lot of fantasy settings, but you do know they're not always evil, right? Like, usually, they're just annoying little green guys. Sometimes they're even the heroes." He mused, while smirking slightly. "Honestly, a lot of modern stories try to subvert the "goblins are bad" trope. Some have entire civilizations, some run businesses— hell, some even become adventurers."
Goblin Slayer's posture stiffened. "That is not how they are." His voice was unnervingly steady.
Rimuru raised an eyebrow. "In where you're from?"
"Yes," the armored man replied— the mere discussion of goblins causing him to instinctively grip onto his sword hilt briefly before relaxing. "… They do not build. They do not create. They only take. They destroy. They kill. And they—" He stopped himself, before inhaling slowly and repeating himself, "… They must be exterminated."
It was then that Rimuru's amusement faded, as he began to study the armored man more carefully. "Man," he murmured quietly, "you sound like a guy with a serious grudge."
Goblin Slayer did not respond to that truth.
Beginning to grow annoyed with the lack of proper responses, the slime rolled his eyes before throwing his hands up in an exasperated manner. "Alright, you know what? Whatever man," he said with a sigh, before reaching back to rub the back of his neck. "If I'm right about where we are, then goblins don't even exist here, so don't even worry about it. The closest thing you'll see to goblins here are people just dressed as them for Halloween, or something."
It was meant to be an offhand remark, but the reaction it got was immediate.
Goblin Slayer's entire frame tensed, with his breath hitching. For the first time since they'd met, Rimuru caught a glimpse of something raw beneath that rigid exterior. His gauntleted fingers flexed slightly.
"… I-Is that true?" The armored man asked, his voice quiet, but edged with something bordering on desperation. "Do goblins truly not exist here?"
Rimuru simply blinked at him, while being visibly taken aback. "Uh… I mean, yeah? Pretty sure. I haven't seen any since I've been here, and this place isn't exactly crawling with fantasy creatures."
Goblin Slayer's breathing grew slightly uneven. He raised a hand to his helmet's chin, with his grip tightening before slowly loosening.
The slime watched with growing curiosity. 'He's really invested in this.'
"… Listen," he said, deciding to test something, "we can find out for sure. We just need some money to rent a computer, and then I can check-"
"-What is a computer?"
Rimuru deadpanned. "… Oh boy." He then took a moment to suck in a breath, before letting his arms drop down to his sides. "Okay, a computer is… A device that lets you access information instantly. Like, if I wanted to know whether or not goblins exist here, I could just type it in, and boom— answers."
Goblin Slayer nodded slowly. "… I see."
Rimuru couldn't help but to smirk, as he mused aloud, "You're taking this pretty well for a guy who doesn't know what a computer is."
The armored man was quiet for a moment before speaking again. "If there are no goblins here… Then I will have no more work to do."
Rimuru frowned, tilting his head. "Really? That's what you're worried about? Not the fact that you probably got Isekai'd here?"
Hearing that, Goblin Slayer became silent. Then, after a pause, he asked, "What's "Isekai'd"?"
"Oh, right— my bad," Rimuru murmured, with his smirk faltering. "Should have expected you to not know what that is…"
Goblin Slayer waited patiently.
Rimuru sighed. "Alright, so, "Isekai" is a term for when someone gets transported to another world. Usually, it happens through reincarnation or summoning, but sometimes it's just straight-up teleportation," he explained, before pointing a thumb up to his own chest. "I've been through it before."
Curious, Goblin Slayer tilted his head, before simply saying to the slime, "Explain."
"Sure," Rimuru casually replied, before leaning his back up against a nearby wall— ignoring the dampness seeping through his clothes. "Alright, storytime. So, back in my original world— which I think is here— I was just some random office worker in Japan. Minding my business, when— bam! Stabbed. Next thing I knew, I woke up as a slime in a fantasy world… Probably like the one you're from."
"I see," Goblin Slayer murmured— pausing momentarily to seemingly digest what Rimuru had told him, before asking him, "So, you were reincarnated as a slime?"
"Sure was." Rimuru replied with a grin, before giving him a casual thumbs-up. "Started off as a sentient blob slurping up magicules like it was an all-you-can-eat buffet." He explained playfully, while gesturing vaguely at himself. "So then I ended up ruling a whole nation. The Jura-Tempest Federation. You know, the one you've never heard of?"
"… You were a ruler?"
"Damn right, I was." Rimuru's shot back cockily, with his grin lingering, despite there being something thoughtful beneath it. "A proper Demon Lord, too— title, power, responsibilities, the works," he added, with his voice carrying an odd weight— casual, but firm. "I built a country from the ground up— alliances, diplomacy, infrastructure… And some of my best people? They were goblins."
Upon hearing that, Goblin Slayer's hand twitched.
"Loyal, hardworking, smart," Rimuru continued, watching him carefully. "Some of them ran businesses, led armies— hell, a few were my most trusted advisors." He said, before exhaling lightly. "So yeah… You can probably guess why I'm not super thrilled about meeting a guy named "Goblin Slayer.""
A long silence then stretched between them, with the rain and the city's ambience filling the gap.
Goblin Slayer remained stiff, his posture eerily still. "… I see," he said at last— his voice flat. "I am beginning to have my doubts about you, just as you had yours about me."
Rimuru snorted. "Oh, come on, man! I just poured out my whole tragic backstory, and that's your response?!"
"Yes."
The slime then groaned at his response, before dragging a hand down his face. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. Tough sell. But," he paused, before holding up a hand, and with a thought, it melted— flesh liquefying into a translucent blue mass, rippling unnaturally, almost sentient. He then flexed his fingers, the gelatin shifting at his command. "Does this look like something a liar could pull off?!"
Goblin Slayer didn't even flinch, as he replied factually without missing a beat, "I've seen stranger things."
Hearing that dismissive tone in his voice made Rimuru's eye twitch. "… Man, you are impossible to impress." He mused with an exasperated tone, before re-solidifying his hand with a flick of his wrist. "Alright, whatever. Let's focus on the more important issue— figuring out where the hell we are."
Goblin Slayer said nothing, but his mind was already working through a separate concern.
Rimuru began stretching his arms over his slender shoulders. "First things first, we need money. And unless you've got a wallet full of yen, we're gonna have to pawn something," he stated, before beginning to key the man's gear. "Say… Your armor's probably seen better days, but I bet it'd sell for a decent armo-."
"-No."
"Yeah, I figured you'd say that." Rimuru chuckled, before scratching his chin. "Alright, what about that coin purse? How much are we working with?"
Without hesitation, Goblin Slayer unfastened the pouch from his belt before handing it over.
Rimuru raised an eyebrow. "Wow. No argument? No trust issues?"
"If you betray me, I will kill you."
Rimuru let out a low whistle. "Man, you are just a ray of sunshine, huh?" And without waiting for a response, the slime peeked inside the pouch— brows lifting slightly.
"Huh… okay, okay," he murmured to himself, while plucking out a few coins and weighing them in his palm. One by one, he tested their heft, rolling them between his fingers. "… Yeah, this ought to work."
Goblin Slayer watched him carefully— staring at the way his silver-blue hair was clinging to his dampened skin, as he asked "And this pawn shop… They'll exchange these for local currency?"
"Pretty much, yeah," Rimuru replied, before slipping the coins back into the pouch and fixing his hair. "And once we get some cash, we'll grab something to eat— somewhere cheap, preferably," he continued, while cinching the pouch shut and then tossing it lightly in his hand. "And then, we'll hit up an internet café or a library. I need a computer to figure out if this place is actually my Japan, or just some weird parallel version of it."
Goblin Slayer barely acknowledged the explanation, before inquiring, "And a computer can provide that kind of knowledge?"
The slime blinked at him slowly. "Uh… Yeah? It should."
"I see." Goblin Slayer paused, before then asking, "It can also confirm whether goblins do not exist in this world?"
Rimuru froze mid-thought, then slowly turned to him with an incredulous look creeping across his face. "Dude. You're still on that?"
"You claim they are fiction. I must be certain."
Rimuru hesitated at first, before slowly sighing. "… Yeah, yeah, the internet will tell you that," he replied, before softening slightly, and letting out a dry chuckle. "Just don't freak out when you see a bunch of cute, mascot-style versions of them. With tits."
The armored man didn't respond at first. But then, after a long pause, he exhaled sharply. "… That's fine."
Rimuru smirked. "We'll see." And with a clap of his hands, he pushed himself off the dampened brick wall. "Alright, step one— find a pawn shop," he announced aloud, before glancing up and down the dimly lit street. "So, any idea where to start?"
"No."
"Of course not," the slime exhaled sharply. "Guess we're wandering until we get lucky."
Goblin Slayer was already moving. "Then we go."
Rimuru watched him for a second, then shook his head with a chuckle. "Man, you just roll with things, huh?"
"When it's important enough, I do," he replied.
And as Rimuru stuffed his hands into his pockets, he began falling into step beside Goblin Slayer as they crossed onto the sidewalk.
The whole situation was absurd— beyond bizarre— but strangely, he didn't mind the company.
Goblin Slayer was intense, sure, but at least he wasn't some clueless civilian. And maybe— just maybe— it was kinda nice having someone to talk to.
The rain continued to drizzle softly against the pavement as they walked, bound by circumstance, mutual skepticism, and a reluctant partnership in an unfamiliar world.
For now, that was enough.