Morning in Nyvaris was unlike any before. The sky blushed gold and sapphire as the sun kissed the newly laid cobblestone roads. Birds flew in organized flocks over spiraling towers that had only days ago been sketched on scrolls.
Everywhere, movement. Life. Purpose.
Benimaru was at the edge of the training fields, overseeing recruits—elite warriors in Nyvaris. "Discipline and unity," he declared as flames danced lightly around his hands. "That is what will protect our people."
Shuna, robes flowing, stood beside Kaijin, examining the groundwork for the Grand Academy of Artisanal Sciences—a school dedicated to culinary arts, enchantments, tailoring, and potion-making.
Shuna moved with purpose across a soon-to-be campus ground, where instructors discussed new schooling systems.
"There will be four institutions," she told them. "One for magic, one for politics and diplomacy, one for war strategy, and one for arts and cultural unity."
A few beastmen raised concerns.
"Lady Shuna, what about races that have no affinity for magic or combat?"
"We're building for everyone," she replied, smiling. "Even the ones the world forgets."
Souei, ever the silent sentinel, was already executing security operations even though none were needed thanks to the barrier. Still, he said softly to himself, "Preparedness is peace."
Gobta, with uncharacteristic seriousness, was shouting across a field. "No, no! That's not how you arrest a pickpocket! You have to surprise 'em!" Behind him, a group of monsters in ill-fitted police uniforms scrambled to attention, one of them trying to cuff a tree by mistake.
In the higher districts, architects and magical engineers were carving out school zones—one for battle training, one for magic, one for nobility, another for commerce. Scrolls flew magically between hands, blueprints unfolded mid-air, and builders—human and monster alike—worked in harmony.
Inside a lavish crystalline tower, Varvatos stood beside Velzard, both sipping a glass of silverwine, overlooking the thriving streets below.
The soft wind carried sounds of magic, steel, and ambition.
"They've taken to their roles quickly," Velzard commented.
Varvatos smiled faintly. "It's what they wanted. A kingdom for all. A world for everyone."
She looked at him with a sly expression.
"So… are you going to the Underworld yourself to recruit the three Primordials?"
Varvatos smirked. "No. I have a better idea."
He raised his hand. Magic pulsed.
"Come, Rimuru. Come, Diablo."
Within seconds, Rimuru and Diablo appeared, both bowing respectfully—though their dynamics were clear. Diablo stood behind Varvatos with the poised grace of a true servant addressing his sovereign.
Diablo: "My Lord. You called."
Varvatos: "Yes. Rimuru… I believe the time has come to proceed with your idea, Diablo. We'll recruit Primordial Blanc, Jaune, and Violet. But before that—"
He stepped forward, eyes locked on Rimuru.
Varvatos: "Rimuru. A king must not only be wise and just… but powerful. The world sees your mind, but not your strength. That must change."
Rimuru blinked, confused but intrigued.
Rimuru: "What do you mean?"
Varvatos: "Step forward."
Rimuru stepped forward. Diablo watched intently, his usual grin replaced with a focused stare.
Varvatos placed his palm gently on Rimuru's forehead.
His eyes flickered with a cosmic hue, speaking in a tongue that echoed through time and space.
Varvatos: "Asera'vynth Solari Excalen'na."
Suddenly, the world shifted.
Rimuru's body stiffened as a blinding burst of energy exploded from within him. His feet lifted slightly from the floor. Tendrils of starlight, mixed with a core of ancient blue essence, swirled around him. The ceiling cracked with energy, though none dared interrupt.
The air trembled. Halls shook. Even Velzard took a step back.
And then, in Rimuru's mind—
[Notice. The Supreme One has granted you a singular evolution.]
[Processing unique transformation... Unknown species detected.]
[Skill: Great Sage has begun evolution.]
[New Skill Acquired: Hestia — The Womb of Celestial Cognition.]
The light converged. Rimuru's form twisted—but not painfully. His body became something entirely new: elegant yet alien, fluid and yet forged. Not a dragon. Not a slime. But something in-between.
As the radiance settled, a new entity emerged.
Rimuru had evolved.
Race: Draconis Nostra — Firstborn of the Celestial Core
The perfect balance of dragonoid strength and slime adaptability. A unique race birthed through the will of Varvatos, incapable of divine ascension, for none may surpass the Supreme One. But within the mortal realm, it reigns as the apex.
His new body shimmered with a translucent, metallic luster—scales that flowed like silk, a core that pulsed like a star, and eyes that glowed with liquid blue fire. Wings, not traditional but ethereal veils of energy, unfurled from his back like cosmic banners.
He floated slightly, no longer bound fully to the physical realm.
His aura alone sent waves of pressure that brought even Diablo to a knee—not in submission, but in awe.
Velzard: "...Varvatos… What did you do?"
Her voice held reverence and shock. She had known power. She was power. But this… this was a creature that should not exist.
Varvatos gave a satisfied nod.
Varvatos: "I created a new species. The first of its kind. A being that blends the endless potential of evolution with the structural supremacy of the draconic race."
Diablo, wide-eyed, slowly rose.
Diablo: "My Lord… this is beyond brilliant. You didn't just evolve him… you rebuilt him."
Rimuru, looking at his new form, clutched his chest.
Rimuru: "This… This power. It feels… unreal."
[Hestia. I am the Celestial Womb of All Understanding. My guidance will refine your thoughts and form into supremacy.]
It wasn't just more power. It was precision. Rimuru could now manipulate reality around him within finite limits, not as a god, but as an absolute apex being in the realm of mortals.
He had no divine title. No celestial throne.
But the world… would know.
Varvatos: "Remember this, Rimuru. You are strong—but not above the order. You are the first Draconis Nostra… but you will never surpass me. I am the boundary. You are the blade."
Rimuru bowed his head, not in submission, but in gratitude.
Rimuru: "Understood."
Velzard: "...Nyvaris has gained a king unlike any other. The world will change."
Diablo: "Indeed, my Lord. And when the Underworld hears of this… even the Primordials may rethink their loyalties."
The tower chamber was now quiet—eerily so. The shimmering residue of Rimuru's evolution still pulsed faintly in the air like aftershocks of divine thunder. Cracks of starlight lingered on the floor, marking where the overwhelming energy had once surged.
Rimuru stood still, his new form glowing softly, eyes focused, aura perfectly contained—but unmistakable.
He was no longer just a ruler in title. He was power incarnate.
A true king—crafted to rule, not merely chosen.
Velzard gazed at him as if she were seeing a newly formed star.
And Varvatos… slowly circled Rimuru, examining his creation like an artisan admiring a masterpiece brought to life.
Varvatos:
"You were once a slime with ambition... now you are something else entirely."
He stopped directly in front of Rimuru.
Varvatos (firmly):
"You are ready."
Rimuru nodded slightly, his voice calm but resonant.
Rimuru:
"I feel it. Not just strength. Clarity. Purpose. Control."
Varvatos:
"Good. Then it's time for your first real act as king of Nyvaris."
A subtle gleam flickered in his golden eyes.
Varvatos:
"You and Diablo… will descend into the Underworld."
Diablo, still kneeling behind, immediately raised his head. His smile returned—sharp and knowing.
Varvatos:
"There are three remaining Primordials. Blanc. Jaune. Violet. The last of the Seven Pillars unbound by allegiance."
He turned slightly, facing Rimuru again.
Varvatos:
"With your current power, they will have no choice but to bow. Not to you as a god. But to you… as inevitability."
A deep silence fell over the room.
Even Velzard said nothing.
Varvatos raised his right hand.
No chanting. No theatrics.
Just a flick of his finger—
Snap.
The air cracked like glass under divine force. A swirling vortex tore through space, carving a clean passage into the unknown. Shadows twisted around the edge of the portal, while deep purples, crimson smoke, and glimmers of forgotten starlight swirled within. A haunting, low hum resonated from beyond it.
The Underworld.
Rimuru's gaze locked onto it. There was no hesitation. No fear.
Only purpose.
He stepped forward slowly. As he did, a thin cloak of energy—soft and black with silver streaks—formed around his shoulders, conjured by the will of his new body. His footfalls echoed not like weight, but like ripples in reality itself.
Diablo stood beside him. Proud. Reverent. Hungry.
Diablo:
"To think I would have the honor of accompanying the First Draconis Nostra into the Underworld… My Lord Varvatos, you bless me beyond measure."
Varvatos:
"See it done. No games. No negotiations. Make them kneel."
Diablo chuckled darkly.
"And the Underworld will remember the day it stood before kings."
Together, they stepped through the gate.
The portal closed behind them with a sound like final judgment.