Falmuth Attack...Despair!!!

Standing on the high balcony of my palace, I gazed down at the City of Eternal Night, hidden deep within the Jura Forest.

Beside me stood Velzard, her icy presence both calming and absolute. Testarossa, Ultima, and Carrera stood nearby, their expressions a mix of amusement and intrigue. Diablo was at my right, arms crossed, his usual smirk in place as we all watched the magical projection before us—a vision of Tempest, where the invasion of Falmuth had begun.

An army of 20,000 soldiers stood at Tempest's borders, their weapons gleaming under the afternoon sun. The air vibrated as they activated a massive holy barrier, its divine energy cascading down in a dome meant to weaken all monsters within its reach. It was a crude but effective strategy, one meant to suppress Rimuru and his forces before the real slaughter began.

Fools.

I had already known about this attack long before it happened. My spies had been moving through the underbelly of Falmuth, listening in on the whispers of desperate men who thought they could challenge a Demon Lord. Clayman's name had surfaced in those conversations more than once. That scheming coward had played a part in manipulating Falmuth's king, pushing him to attack Tempest under the pretense of "controlling a growing threat." More than that, he had sent a spy—Mjurran—into Tempest, tasked with activating an internal barrier to ensure that Rimuru and his forces would be trapped, weakened, and vulnerable.

As if that would be enough to stop him.

Velzard leaned against the balcony railing, her cold, sharp gaze locked onto the battlefield displayed before us. "A pathetic attempt," she murmured. "They believe a barrier will turn the tide in their favor? Mortals never cease to amuse me."

Testarossa chuckled softly, "Should we intervene, love?" she asked, her crimson eyes glowing in the dim light. "Or would you rather we just enjoy the spectacle?"

Ultima and Carrera, ever eager for chaos, grinned at the unfolding battle. "I wouldn't mind incinerating them myself," Carrera muttered, "but I want to see how Rimuru handles this first."

Ultima smirked. "It's been too long since I've witnessed a proper massacre."

Diablo tilted his head slightly, a glimmer of curiosity in his devilish eyes. "Rimuru-sama will not be pleased," he mused. "And when he is displeased... well, I do hope these insects are prepared for the consequences."

I smirked.

"They have no idea what kind of monster they just provoked."

The battle unfolded before us like a tragic play, one that Falmuth had foolishly written for themselves. From the balcony of my palace in the City of Eternal Night, hidden deep within the Jura Forest, we watched through the magical projection as Tempest's forces moved with surgical precision, dismantling the enemy's strategy piece by piece.

Rimuru, ever the tactician, had dispatched his generals to attack and seize the four strongholds surrounding Tempest, the very ones Falmuth had used to anchor their barriers. We could see Benimaru, his flames cutting through the battlefield like a raging inferno, reducing enemy fortifications to ash. Hakuro, with the speed of a phantom, cut down high-ranking officers before they even registered his presence. Geld, ever the indomitable force, smashed through enemy lines, his sheer strength reducing soldiers and walls alike to rubble. Ranga moved like a shadow in the storm, his fangs and claws tearing through ranks with terrifying efficiency. Even Gabiru, often eager to prove himself, fought alongside his Dragonewts, overwhelming the enemy in aerial combat.

With those strongholds now under Rimuru's control, the holy barrier that weakened monsters began to crumble, and Falmuth's plan started unraveling.

Then came the real moment of reckoning.

Rimuru stood above the battlefield, floating high above the army of 20,000, his golden eyes glowing with an unshakable authority. His expression was unreadable—cold, merciless. A king who had decided the fate of his enemies.

Through the projection, I could hear his voice, calm yet filled with an undeniable weight:

"You came here thinking you could trample upon my nation. That you could kill my people and walk away without consequence. Let this be a lesson… Tempest is not to be played with."

And then, without hesitation, he unleashed his spell.

It was subtle at first—tiny, glimmering droplets forming in the air around him, shimmering like rain suspended in time. They looked almost harmless. But then, in an instant, the droplets turned into bullet-like projectiles, firing down upon the army at impossible speeds.

The effect was immediate.

Soldiers dropped like flies.

Armor was pierced effortlessly. Shields were meaningless. The once-organized ranks of Falmuth's army collapsed into pure chaos, men screaming in terror as an invisible force slaughtered them by the thousands.

It was overkill.

The battlefield became a graveyard within seconds. Blood soaked the earth, and the air was filled with the desperate cries of men who never even saw the attack coming. Some tried to run—futile. Others raised their weapons in vain, only to be cut down before they could react.

From our vantage point, I watched, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

Velzard remained still, her icy gaze locked onto the massacre below. "He is decisive," she murmured, her tone holding no sympathy for the fallen. "As expected."

Testarossa tilted her head, a pleased smile on her lips. "Such efficiency."

Ultima and Carrera both grinned at the spectacle. "He really didn't hold back," Ultima chuckled. "I love it." Carrera scoffed. "Attacking for greed, and now they pay the price. Serves them right."

Diablo, ever the devoted servant, smiled darkly. "Rimuru-sama is merciful compared to what I would have done."

As the last of the screams faded, leaving only a field of corpses and a deathly silence, I let out a quiet breath.

I did not intervene.

Falmuth deserved this.

They came to Tempest not for justice, not for protection, but for greed. They sought to take what was never theirs, to trample upon a nation they did not understand.

The moment Rimuru's spell rained down upon them, confusion turned into horror. Glowing droplets of magic, deceptively beautiful, fell like a storm—but each one pierced through flesh and armor alike, cutting men down in an instant.

Cries of agony filled the battlefield.

"Where is it coming from?!" one soldier shrieked, his voice barely rising over the sounds of bodies hitting the ground.

"We're under attack! But I can't see the enemy!" another yelled, his panic evident as he frantically raised his sword, not knowing where to strike.

Some dropped their weapons, falling to their knees in utter despair, trembling as they realized there was no escape. Others tried to flee, but Rimuru's magic hunted them down mercilessly, cutting off their escape routes with precision.

From my vantage point, I watched them descend into madness, their ranks collapsing into chaos and despair.

Velzard observed the scene with an impassive stare. "Screaming won't save them," she said coldly. "They never should have come here."

Testarossa smirked, her fingers tracing the balcony railing. "It's fascinating, isn't it?" she mused. "They thought they were the predators. But now, they finally understand—they were prey all along."

Ultima giggled, "I love watching them break."

Carrera scoffed, crossing her arms. "Pathetic. If you're going to invade, at least be prepared to die for it."

Diablo, standing beside me, simply smiled. "Ah, the sweet sound of despair," he murmured. "Truly, this is a lesson they will never forget… Not that many will live to remember it."

They had come for blood, for conquest, for greed.

And now, they screamed not as warriors, but as cowards facing their doom.