Ahead lay a village. It was situated exactly where the scout said it was. He had followed the trail of a wounded goblin straight to it. Nothing about his report suggested it to be a threat.
This was not the alpha’s first battle. He was cunning, and he never let his guard down. However, even he had to admit that the strange…thing around the village was a tad unusual.
It was…a fence, like one would see in a human village. The homes that once composed the settlement had been disassembled, formed into a defense that neatly covered all of the village grounds.
And there, in front of the single opening in the barrier, was a lone slime.
“All right, stop where you are, okay?” the slime said to them. “If you turn back now, I promise I won’t do anything to you. Move away from here at once!”
Impertinent little bastard. Leaving just one entryway open to block a mass attack? Just the kind of shallow thinking one should expect from a garbage monster like this. Our claws and fangs would make mincemeat out of that rickety old thing.
It was time to show this slime their true power. The alpha gave the order. As if they were his own right hand, about a dozen direwolves immediately set off to attack the fence—the picture of coordination, the exact reason the pack essentially functioned as a single monster.
The Thought Communication skill enabled their collective behavior. It was far faster than giving verbal orders, letting the pack work in perfect tandem.
The first wave should have been all it took to destroy the fence. Instead the alpha, already picturing a screaming rabble of goblins struggling to flee after the miserable failure of their stratagem, let out a surprised yelp. The force he had sent toward the fence had been blown straight backward, some of them bleeding profusely as they writhed on the ground.
What could this be? The alpha kept his mind sharp as he surveyed the area. The slime by the entryway had not moved an inch. Did it do something?
One of his men sidled up to him to report. It was him, boss! The thing with the mystical force that outclassed yours!
Nonsense, the alpha thought as he looked at the slime. It was a small monster. They would occasionally be born here and there along the plains. Even calling them “monsters” at all seemed absurd—their whole existence was petty. That thing, holding more force than me…?
The alpha fumed.
Impossible!
✦ ✦ ✦
Few, indeed, were the monsters more sly and crafty than the alpha. He had years of experience to draw upon, and he could summon it on the fly to calmly, nimbly formulate a new plan. And his years of experience told him that this monster could not possibly be stronger than he was.
Right there, for the first time, the alpha committed a fatal mistake—one that would ultimately decide his fate.
You wretched little worm of a monster—I shall crush you to pieces!
✦ ✦ ✦
Yeesh. That was a shock.
I didn’t think they’d go lunging at the joint straight out. I even gave them that heroic little speech about how I wouldn’t do anything if they turned back, but they totally ignored it.
Instead, the direwolves all started moving at once, attacking the fence from pretty much every angle they had. I was hoping we could talk things over a little first, but they forced me to throw out my entire script. And after all that rehearsing I did while the fence was being built.
✦ ✦ ✦
The first order I’d given the goblins was to show me where the wounded were. Adding a dozen or so survivors to the sixty fighters we had wouldn’t make the work go much more efficiently, but given their devotion for me, I wanted to do what I could for them.
They were all lying down on the floor of a large, fairly unhygienic-seeming building. Looking over them, I started to think. Apparently, they’re using some herbs to treat them…but left to themselves, they’ll die before long. They were all in rougher shape than I’d thought—skin slashed by teeth and claws, and some were sporting nasty-looking gashes with God-knows-what growing out of them.
Better splurge a little bit, I figured as I took action. Consuming the wounded goblin closest to me, I sprayed some recovery potion on him, then hawked him back up. The elder prepared to say something to me, but he thought better of it as I worked my way down the row—swallowing, splattering, spitting out.
After I’d finished up with a few of them, I took a look behind me.
There they were again, kowtowing to me.
What is with these guys?
They must’ve assumed I’d resurrected them with my powers or something. To avoid future misunderstanding, I opted to just spit the potions out directly from there on, healing the goblins’ wounds out in the “real” world.
The healing process took a little time, but it worked. Once I was done with everyone, I gave the remaining goblins a new order—the fence.
A simple wooden affair would have been fine, I thought, but we didn’t have much time or material to work with. We had to go with what we had, so that was what I did—without a moment’s pause, I had them tear down their homes and use the wood and other components to fortify the whole community.
In the meantime, I ordered the goblins who were decent with a bow to go on scout duty. I warned them not to wander too far afield—wolves were bound to have good noses. I could tell by their eyes that they were willing to sacrifice themselves for the cause. They were ready to shout out “By my very life!” at any moment. A lot more bravado than I really needed right now, but I doubted there was any quick fix for it.
As night fell, around a day after I arrived at the village, the final planks were on the fence. The finishing touches were mine—spider silk to strengthen and solidify the paling and a few Steel Thread traps here and there. Anyone touching the fence without knowing the secret would be carved up before they knew what hit them. I’ll have to remember to go fetch a body or two later.
I made sure the fence had a single entryway on one side. Once it was lined with Sticky Thread, my job here was done. All that remained was to wait for the scouts to come back.
By this time, the wounded goblins were starting to wake up, healed from their wounds. They furtively poked their bodies, staring curiously down at themselves. Looks like that stuff packs a wallop. I’d assumed I’d need to apply several doses to the graver-looking of the patients, but it worked a hell of a lot better than I’d thought. I had no complaints about that mistake.
After that, I had the goblins collect the extra material, pile it up in the center of the village grounds, and set it on fire. It reminded me of more than one camping trip, but now was no time for marshmallows. We would need to keep watch the whole night through. I offered to handle it alone but was sharply refused.
“Nothing doing, Sir Rimuru! We could never allow you to shoulder such a heavy burden!”
“She is right! We will handle watch duty for you. Please, Sir Rimuru, take the time to rest a little!”
The rabble around us echoed their approval. I appreciated the thought. They had to be far more exhausted than I was by now, but I agreed to handle the watch in shifts and rest when I wasn’t on duty.
Just before midnight, the scouts returned—some wounded, but all safe. The direwolves had begun to move, they said. Funny how I thought they were these ugly, filth-ridden monsters two days ago. Now I was starting to feel actual affection for them. If I had my way, I thought as I applied the final Sticky Thread to the entryway, I’d like to get them through this without losing a single one.