Chapter 106. The Weight of Memory

The battlefield stretched endlessly, a violent sea of clashing blades and bloodied earth. The air was thick with the roars of warriors and the dying screams of the fallen. Tempest's forces clashed with the Orc horde, their steel and magic meeting the monstrous tide in a desperate struggle for survival.

At the heart of it all, the towering figure of the Orc Lord loomed like a nightmare given form. His very presence cast an oppressive shadow over the battlefield, a suffocating aura of malice and insatiable hunger. His Devour ability had consumed countless lives, and with each soul lost, his power grew. He was no mere beast—he was an ever-expanding abyss, feeding on death itself.

Yet, amidst the chaos, standing on a small ridge overlooking the battlefield, one man remained utterly unfazed.

Satria.

His golden cloak fluttered in the wind as his keen eyes studied the battlefield like a chessboard, his arms crossed as he analyzed every movement, every weakness, every opportunity.

"Rimuru's army fights with passion," he mused. "But passion alone will not win wars."

His gaze swept across the battlefield, dissecting each fighter's strengths and weaknesses with the precision of a seasoned strategist.

At the center of the battlefield, Benimaru led his warriors like a blazing wildfire. His katana cut through the orcs with effortless precision, each stroke fueled by overwhelming power. His leadership was inspiring, rallying his allies with every strike, his presence alone pushing them to fight harder.

But Satria saw the flaw.

"He fights like a lone beast rather than a commander," Satria noted. "His raw strength is formidable, but he lacks coordination with his forces. If the Kijin learned true battlefield discipline, they could become an unstoppable strike force."

A weapon was only as strong as the hand that wielded it. Benimaru was a warrior—but he needed to become a general.

Not far from Benimaru, Shion swung her massive greatsword like a tempest incarnate, sending orcs flying with every strike. Her strength was monstrous, her loyalty unwavering. She carved through the enemy ranks like a goddess of war, but…

"Reckless," Satria muttered.

He could see it clearly. Her power was undeniable, but she left herself wide open after every attack.

"She fights with emotion rather than calculation," he observed. "If trained properly, she could become a warrior who knows when to hold back and when to unleash devastation."

A beast with raw power was terrifying—but a beast with control? That was an extinction-level threat.

In the heart of the battle, Hakuro danced.

His blade was a whisper of death, his movements so fluid they seemed effortless. Where others relied on brute force, Hakuro moved with calculated grace, every stroke a precise, lethal execution.

Satria's lips curled slightly.

"A true master," he admitted. "Hakuro fights with purpose—every movement optimized, no wasted energy. His control is near perfection."

It was rare to see such discipline on the battlefield. If Rimuru's forces learned even a fraction of Hakuro's technique, they could turn the tide of any war.

Across the battlefield, Gobta and his wolf-mounted riders struck fast, weaving between the orc ranks like ghosts. Their speed and hit-and-run tactics made them unpredictable, sowing chaos in the enemy lines.

But it was unrefined chaos.

Satria sighed. "Disorganized. They lack formation, and the moment they face resistance, they scatter."

However, he saw potential.

"If they learned true guerrilla warfare—if they fought with discipline instead of instinct—" his eyes gleamed "—they could become the nightmare of any battlefield."

A chaotic force was dangerous. But a controlled, unpredictable force? That was a weapon of war.

At the vanguard, Ranga tore through the enemy like a force of nature. His fangs sank into flesh, his claws shredded armor like paper. His speed and power made him a living storm, an apex predator on the battlefield.

Yet, he fought alone.

"A powerful beast," Satria thought. "But reckless. If his attacks were coordinated with the goblin riders, they could overwhelm entire legions."

His lips curled into a smirk. "He has potential… and perhaps a greater purpose."

Satria's mind wandered to Selena, his daughter, and the legendary Norse wolves of his bloodline.

"A union between the Norse Fenrir lineage and the Rimuru wolves… fascinating."

He would need to speak with Rimuru about arranging a match. A crossbreed between legendary lineages would produce a divine beast the world had never seen.

"That was an amazing observation, but…" Rimuru's gaze sharpened. "Who is Selena? You have a child already?"

Satria's eyes sparkled with pride, his entire demeanor shifting. "She is one of my proudest children! And there are many more to come, dear! Let's start with the fluffiness and beauty of Vapo—"

"Stop it. Stop it."

Fatalis cut in, her voice dripping with exasperation. "Those aren't children. They're just adorable creatures he picks up and calls his 'stupid Nakama.' I've heard enough of his bragging."

"Ah… I see…" Rimuru chuckled from behind her mask, amused by Satria's unexpected soft side.

But then, her tone changed. "This is it," she said, her voice steady yet weighted with the gravity of the moment. "The Orc Lord has to be stopped here, or more lives will be lost. What's your plan?"

Satria casually tapped her shoulder. "You'll take him down. Alone."

Rimuru blinked. "Wait, me? But we have all these allies fighting here, and the Orc Lord is incredibly powerful! Are you sure that's the best idea?"

Satria nodded, his eyes gleaming with certainty. "This isn't just about defeating him. This is a test—a test of leadership, strength, and strategy. You're not only the leader of Tempest; you're its core. If you want your people to grow stronger, you must show them that you're capable of protecting them from the greatest threats."

'This guy… Just say you're lazy and be done with it.' Fatalis and Great Red groaned internally. There was no way Rimuru would just swallow that whole.

But much to their disbelief, Rimuru took a deep breath, considering his words. "You're saying that if I face the Orc Lord alone, I'll earn their respect as a leader and show them what it means to take responsibility?"

"Exactly," Satria confirmed. "A leader bears the heaviest burdens. Your allies have proven their courage, but this battle belongs to you. This is your moment, Empress of Tempest."

Rimuru glanced at her subordinates. They were watching. Waiting. Trusting her.

She clenched her fists, determination flickering in her eyes. "All right, Satria. I'll face the Orc Lord alone."

'She actually took the bait!!!' Fatalis and Great Red were stunned by how effortlessly Satria had manipulated Rimuru into doing all the hard work.

"That's my proud Empress!" Satria leaned in, his smile widening. Then, with a teasing glint in his eyes, he whispered, "If you manage to defeat the Orc Lord by yourself, I'll give you a… special reward. I'm sure you're gonna love it." He winked, his voice dripping with mischief.

Rimuru froze.

Her entire brain shut down.

"R-Really? A reward?" she stammered, her usual composure shattering like glass. Her mask barely hid the growing red tint on her face. A reward from Satria… That thought alone sent her imagination spiraling into dangerous territory.

Satria crossed his arms, a smug look in his eyes. "So, what do you say?"

Rimuru swallowed hard. Her face was burning, but her resolve was unshaken. She forced a grin and—though flustered—winked back at him. "I'll give it my all, then. For Tempest—"

And then, in a lower voice, barely above a whisper, she added, "—and that reward."

'Oh no… She's actually motivated by it.' Fatalis and Great Red facepalmed.

Satria just grinned. "That's my girl."

___

Esdeath: "@King See? I already predicted this! Sooner or later, he'd make himself a King or an Emperor. I won the bet. You know what to do. 😏"

Artoria: "Who would've thought this loudmouth would rise to the rank of Emperor? Hmph. But I'll admit, I'm curious to see what kind of empire he intends to build."

Kazuma-sama: "WHY IS IT ALWAYS LOLITRIA?! Where is the fated heroine destined for me?!"

BangSat: "Who are you calling Lolitria?! Say that again, I dare you!"

Evil Spirit: "Oh? Another one? 😈"

Kuroneko: "Empress? How did that thieving cat suddenly become My Lord's Empress?!"

God of Hope: "What kind of mischief are you stirring up this time?"

BangSat: "My story is too long to explain here, but trust me—you two are gonna love her. She's... special."

Robin: "How disloyal."

BangSat: "Tch. Better than having a side chick like those Westerners! At least I'm not a coward, and I take full responsibility for all my wives."

White Lady: "Mhm. I bet you say that to every pretty girl who catches your eye."

BangSat: "Zzz... Yeah, yeah. You two, let's continue this discussion at home—with the others."

______

Fatalis noticed the subtle twitch in Satria's expression, her sharp eyes catching the flicker of annoyance on his face. With a curious tilt of her head, she leaned in slightly.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice smooth yet laced with amusement.

Satria pouted, arms crossed. "The usual. Haters keep running their mouths, always criticizing me," he muttered, shaking his head.

Fatalis chuckled softly, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. "I see."

With that, they turned their attention back to the battlefield, where the fate of Tempest hung in the balance.

The effect was immediate and devastating. Waves of pure energy erupted from the advanced weapons, carving through the orc ranks like a scythe through wheat. Armor melted in an instant, weapons disintegrated before they could be raised in defense, and the very earth beneath them was scorched by the relentless assault. The battlefield, once a tide of green and steel, had become a storm of fire and ruin.

The orcs who survived the first wave of destruction tried to retreat, their roars turning to desperate cries, but there was no escape. The warriors of Tempest, emboldened by their newfound power, pressed forward, their eyes blazing with determination. They fired volley after volley, their shots cutting down the fleeing remnants like a merciless execution.

Less than an hour had passed, yet the once-mighty horde had been reduced to ash and broken corpses. The fields outside the city, once green with life, were now nothing more than a smoldering graveyard.

And then, through the smoke-filled sky, a figure emerged.

Gelmudo.

The rogue Majin hovered above the battlefield, his cloak billowing, his eyes glowing with fury and disbelief. His gaze swept across the carnage below, his lips twisting into a sneer.

"What… is that cursed weapon?" Gelmudo growled, his fingers curling into tight fists. He had orchestrated this invasion, yet in mere moments, his carefully laid plans had been reduced to ruin. His "unstoppable" orc horde had been obliterated like insects before an inferno.

His eyes narrowed, locking onto one particular figure below. "You…" he hissed, voice laced with venom. "Gabil! How dare you stand against me? Have you forgotten who gave you your name? You are mine!"

The Lizardman—no, the Dragonewt—stood firm, his eyes burning with defiance. "My name is Gabiru now!" he declared, raising his spear high. "And I serve only the Golden Emperor and his Empress!"

Gelmudo's sneer faltered for a brief moment before twisting into anger. "You betray me for him?" he spat. "Have you forgotten the power I bestowed upon you?"

"I have not forgotten!" Gabiru s shouted. "But I have seen the truth! You are nothing but a coward who hides in the shadows, manipulating others for your selfish gain! You used the orcs, just as you tried to use us! We know what you did to the Oni Clan, and we will not allow you to repeat history!"

Behind him, his warriors stood firm, their plasma rifles aimed at Gelmudo, their expressions hard with conviction.

"Well said."

A new voice cut through the tension like a blade.

Descending from the sky with effortless grace, a single figure approached Gelmudo.

Rimuru.

Her eyes, hidden beneath the visor of her mask, bore into the Majin with a quiet intensity. She landed lightly on the ground, standing between Gelmudo and the Tempest forces, her presence alone commanding the battlefield.

Gelmudo scoffed, but there was an edge of wariness in his eyes. "So… you must be this so-called Golden Emperor I've heard whispers about," he sneered.

Rimuru tilted her head slightly. "I have no obligation to answer your questions," she replied coolly. "All I need to know is that you're the one responsible for this invasion."

A spark of killing intent flickered in the air around her.

Gelmudo gritted his teeth. "Tch… So what if I am?"

Rimuru raised a single hand. Energy crackled at her fingertips, the air around her humming with a power far beyond anything Gelmudo had ever faced.

"Then it's clear who I need to eliminate."

"You? Killing me?" Gelmudo scoffed, throwing his arms wide in mockery. "Don't make me laugh!" His voice echoed across the battlefield, filled with arrogance. From his lofty vantage point, he cast his gaze downward, eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.

Then, turning his attention to the towering figure below, he called out, "You, Orc Lord! You have proven yourself to be a powerful weapon, and I, Gelmudo, am here to ensure your ascension! Now go! Feast on them!"

The battlefield fell silent for a brief moment.

The Orc Lord lifted his head, his dark yellow eyes narrowing as he fixed Gelmudo with a slow, deliberate stare. There was something different in his gaze—not the blind obedience the Majin had come to expect, but something far more dangerous.

Ambition.

He had listened to Gelmudo's whispers. He had followed the Majin's schemes. But in the midst of battle, surrounded by death and power, the Orc Lord had come to a single realization.

He needed no master.

Gelmudo continued to gloat, unaware of the impending betrayal. "Now, Orc Lord, kneel before me and receive your rightful evo—"

A deep, guttural growl rumbled from the Orc Lord's chest, cutting through the Majin's words like a blade. "Bow?" he repeated, voice thick with disdain. "I am no one's servant."

Before Gelmudo could react, a massive hand shot up with terrifying speed, seizing him mid-air.

"What—?!" Gelmudo gasped, his entire body trembling as he was yanked from his perch. His limbs flailed uselessly as the Orc Lord's fingers tightened around him like a vice.

"No!" Gelmudo shrieked, panic setting in as he struggled against the monster's crushing grip. "You can't do this! I gave you power!"

The Orc Lord sneered, his fanged mouth curling in contempt. "You gave me nothing." His deep voice rumbled like thunder, shaking Gelmudo to his core. "I'll take the power I need myself."

And with that, he opened his maw.

A swirling darkness manifested around the Majin, tendrils of energy wrapping around his body, pulling at his essence. Gelmudo screamed, his body convulsing as he felt himself being devoured—his magic, his life force, his very existence siphoned away by the monster he had tried to control.

The Majin's body withered as he was absorbed, his final screams fading into the storm of power now engulfing the Orc Lord.

The battlefield fell into stunned silence.

Tempest's forces could only watch in growing horror as the transformation began.

The Orc Lord's muscles bulged, his body swelling with newfound strength. His once-dark skin deepened into an even darker hue, his aura thickening into something oppressive—a black miasma of raw, unchecked power. The air around him grew heavy, suffocating, as waves of energy crackled and pulsed outward.

This was no longer just an Orc Lord.

This was something far worse.

A new terror had just been born.

Rimuru's eyes narrowed, sensing the overwhelming shift in energy radiating from the Orc Lord's transforming body. The air itself felt heavier, crackling with raw power.

"He's ascending," she muttered, her heart sinking. "He's becoming a Demon Lord."

A hush fell over Tempest's forces as they realized the gravity of the situation. The battle had already been fierce, but this—this was something else entirely.

"Rimuru-sama?" Benimaru hesitated, gripping his blade tighter, concern flashing in his crimson eyes. "This is dangerous. Are you really going to fight him alone?"

Beside him, Shion, Souei, Hakuro, Shuna and the others wore similarly tense expressions. They knew Rimuru was powerful, but the Orc Disaster—the being that stood before them now—was an entirely new threat.

But before Rimuru could respond, another voice cut through the tension.

"It's fine," Satria said, arms crossed, his gaze never leaving Rimuru. "Trust her."

Benimaru flinched at the absolute certainty in Satria's tone. Even Great Sage remained silent, indicating that whatever Satria had seen in Rimuru, it was beyond their calculations.

Rimuru took a deep breath, her golden eyes locking onto the monstrous being before her. Then, without hesitation, she leaped forward.

The moment she moved, the Orc Disaster let out a guttural, earth-shaking laugh. His massive, mutated form loomed over her like a living calamity, veins pulsing with stolen power.

"More... I need more... Let me consume more...!"

His glowing eyes snapped toward Rimuru as she closed the distance, and with a monstrous roar, he swung a massive fist down, intending to crush her in one blow.

BOOM!

The impact shattered the ground, sending debris flying in all directions. But Rimuru was gone.

She reappeared above him in an instant, weaving through the falling rubble like a specter. Every movement was precise, every dodge measured. The battle had begun.

Rimuru raised her hand, gathering an immense amount of magic into a single point, preparing the skill that would decide this fight—Predator.

The Orc Disaster, sensing her intentions, snarled in rage. His body pulsed with energy, and in an instant, he unleashed a barrage of chaotic blasts, each one powerful enough to level a mountain. The air turned thick with destruction as beams of dark energy shot out in all directions.

Rimuru didn't hesitate. She moved like liquid, slipping through each explosion, her mind already processing every possible attack pattern.

It's not enough… I need more…

The Orc Disaster's voice became a guttural growl as his body convulsed, desperate to consume more power, more strength. He was evolving even as he fought, his hunger driving him toward complete monstrosity.

Rimuru's grip tightened.

'Great Sage… it's your turn.'

—Acknowledged. Initiating full combat synchronization.

A pulse of energy spread through Rimuru's body as Great Sage took full control.

[Great Sage control of bodily functions confirmed. Transitioning to Auto-Battle Mode… Completed]

Rimuru's body relaxed for a fraction of a second—then moved at blinding speed.

She was no longer dodging.

She was attacking.

The battlefield fell into an eerie silence as the Orc Disaster staggered back, his massive frame trembling. His grotesque, mutated form was now missing an arm, black flames eating away at the wound. He stared at it in disbelief.

"Hm? I… I can't regenerate?" His voice wavered, his confidence crumbling as he watched his body refuse to heal.

"Hoo… Rimuru-chan moves like a different person now," Great Red mused, his fiery eyes tracking the battle with keen interest. "And that black flame—it's more dangerous than I thought."

"That's part of her ability, Great Sage," Fatalis explained, arms crossed as she analyzed the fight. "It optimizes every action, making her fight at peak efficiency. But more importantly, that flame isn't just ordinary magic. It disrupts regeneration, making it nearly impossible to heal. That's why Satria must break the connection between her and the system inside Rimuru first if he ever wants to defeat her."

Great Red let out an amused chuckle. "So, there's something inside her, huh? Something… beyond just skill?"

Ophis, who had been silently watching, popped another potato snack into her mouth. "Hmm… I sensed that power before, the first time we met. It's different." Her gaze lingered on Rimuru, fascinated by the power unfolding before her.

Meanwhile, on the battlefield, Rimuru pressed her advantage. The Orc Disaster, now missing an arm, roared in frustration and lunged again, his desperation driving him into reckless attacks. But it was useless.

Rimuru moved like water, fluid and untouchable. Every strike he threw missed, every desperate swing met only air. And then—she shifted into her slime form.

"Wh-What—?!" The Orc Disaster barely had time to react before a powerful, corrosive force engulfed him. Rimuru's skill, Predator, had activated at full force, breaking him down at a fundamental level.

The Orc Disaster screamed. His flesh burned away, his strength rapidly draining as his massive body collapsed.

"What did I do wrong…?" His voice, once monstrous, now sounded almost… human. "I only wanted… strength to save my people…"

Rimuru's body tensed. She felt something—fragments of memories flooding into her mind as she absorbed him.

The extreme hunger, the endless suffering, the desperation that drove him forward… the whispering voice of manipulation guiding his every move. In that moment, Rimuru understood.

This wasn't just a monster.

This was a victim.

A pawn in a greater scheme.

A life twisted and used, all for power he could never truly control.

Rimuru's golden eyes softened, just for a moment. She had no regrets about ending him—he had to be stopped. But that lingering sadness… it was something she would remember.

Satria watched Rimuru process the memories she had absorbed, his expression unreadable. Finally, he spoke, his voice calm but knowing.

"What do you think about this, Rimuru?"

Rimuru turned to him, still shaken by what she had seen. "Satria… How did you get into his memories?"

Satria simply smiled, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "There are many things I can do, my dear. This is just a small part of me."

Rimuru exhaled, rubbing her temples. "It's tragic, really. He wasn't just some monster rampaging without reason—he was a leader trying to do what he thought was best for his people. But somewhere along the way, his choices were twisted by someone else's agenda. And the result? Suffering, death, destruction. Even if he had noble intentions at the start… it doesn't change what happened."

Satria placed a firm yet gentle hand on Rimuru's shoulder, grounding her. "Tragic, yes. But remember this: understanding the past doesn't erase the consequences. Knowing the Orc Disaster's motivations gives us insight, but it doesn't absolve his actions. As leaders, we don't just bear the weight of our own choices—we bear the weight of others' choices as well. It's our responsibility to learn from these events so history doesn't repeat itself."

Rimuru met his gaze, his words settling deep within her. "You're right… This whole experience has been a reminder of how complex leadership is. Strength isn't enough—you need to understand the motives of those you face. If we can do that, maybe we can stop tragedies like this before they even start."

Satria's eyes gleamed with approval. "Exactly. You're learning not just to protect your people, but to understand those who would threaten them. Knowledge is power—but wisdom is knowing how to use it."

Rimuru chuckled, shaking her head. "This is coming from you? The same man who shoved this fight onto me instead of handling it himself? You think I don't realize why you told me to fight him alone? A monster like the Orc Disaster would've been nothing more than a warm-up for you… You lazy bastard."

Satria pouted, dramatically crossing his arms. "Hmph! How rude! I am not lazy—I'm simply… efficient! Why waste energy when I have a perfectly capable Empress to handle things?"

Rimuru rolled her eyes, a smirk forming. "Baka~ How did I end up falling for a spoiled child like you?"

Before Satria could protest, Rimuru leaned in, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to his cheek. Her touch lingered just a second longer than necessary, sending a warmth through him that even he wasn't immune to.

"Thank you, Satria," she murmured, her voice sincere. "For everything. You have no idea how much it means to know I can count on you, My Emperor."

Satria froze for a moment, his usual cocky demeanor faltering. Then, a slow, knowing smirk spread across his face.

"Oh?" He tilted his head, feigning innocence. "My Empress, was that a reward for making you fight the Orc Disaster?"

Rimuru's face heated, realizing too late that she had just walked into his trap.

"Don't push your luck," she huffed, turning away.

Satria chuckled, watching her with amusement. "Too late, dear. I think I just got my motivation back."

____

Evil Spirit: "I'm curious too, Rimuru-san. Seems like you're not the only one who's fallen victim to his smooth talk."

White Lady: "He's dangerous. I need to prepare a mental defense barrier before I meet him in person."

Robin: "The weapon they are using... I remember it was developed by Darkest in Mantel. Wait—don't tell me he's spreading that kind of technology into a medieval world?! Is that even allowed? He's completely shaking the balance!"

Kuroneko: "I feel conflicted. I can tell Rimuru-san is a good person from their conversation, but… now who am I supposed to vent my frustration on?"

Evil Spirit: "Why not take it out on this bad puppy instead? Gotta discipline him every now and then so he doesn't get too cocky."

Kuroneko: "..."

Kazuma-sama: "Prayers up for Satria. He lived as a menace, but he will die as a legend."

Esdeath: "@God, I think this guy might actually be better than you at giving motivational speeches."

God of Hope: "Excuse me? Don't compare me to that chaotic brat. This is the first time I've met someone like him. He's… unique. But I can see real potential in Rimuru-chan. Maybe she'll be the one to fix him."

[Ding! Mission Complete]

[Rewards: 10,000© + 1 Surprise Box for Bang Sat]

BangSat: "Hah! Another victory for me! Now, what's in this surprise box?"

Evil Spirit: "Hopefully a leash. You need it."

Kuroneko: "Or a muzzle. That would be nice too."

BangSat: "You girl are mean."

______

The Orc Disaster's presence faded, leaving Rimuru standing alone but feeling unexpectedly lighter, more determined. She knew the weight of the responsibility that came with her new power, and she would honor it by protecting those she held dear.

To be continued...