It was oddly quiet, compared to the pitched battle of a moment ago. I could feel the gazes of the direwolves upon me. Amid their stares, I gradually started glooping forward. I couldn’t tell how they’d interpret this, but I wanted to hammer it home that their boss was dead.
In a moment, I was at the alpha’s limp body. Nobody offered any objection. One of their pack, which had taken up position nearby, retreated a step.
Then I swallowed the corpse. As was my right as victor, yeah?
The Sage’s voice rang in my mind.
✦ ✦ ✦
Analysis complete. Mimic: Direwolf ability obtained. Direwolf intrinsic skills “Keen Smell,” “Thought Communication,” and “Coercion” acquired.
Sounds like a win to me. But despite seeing their own boss eaten in front of them, the rest of the direwolves still showed no sign of movement. Hmmm… At this point, they were either gonna freak out and run, or freak out and come for me.
…Oh, right! I told them “submit or die,” didn’t I? Ah, shit. That might’ve been throwing the baby out with the bathwater. Better give ’em an escape route, I thought as I transformed myself into one of them.
Activating Coercion, I spoke to them in a loud, guttural scream. “Arh-arh-arh! Listen to me!” I declared to them. “Once, and only once, I will let this go unpunished. If you refuse to obey me, I bid you to leave here at once!!”
I figured that’d be enough to make these dogs scamper off. I was wrong.
We pledge our allegiance to you!
Now they were kowtowing to me, although it looked more as if they were having a lie-down for a nap. But regardless, they had apparently chosen “submit” anyway. Maybe they’d been having a little Thought Communication conference about it while they were standing there like statues.
It beats having to fight them, anyway.
That, more or less, marked the official end of the battle at this goblin village.
✦ ✦ ✦
That’s always the thing, though, isn’t it? It’s not the fight that’s the hard part; it’s all the goddamn cleanup afterward.
Who’s the idiot that ordered them to destroy their own homes? What’re we gonna do about those? And where’re all these goblins gonna sleep tonight? And what am I supposed to do with all these dogs? I mean, sure, we killed off a fair number of them, but that’s still, like, eighty more mouths to feed.
I, um… Ah, screw it. That’s all for today, people! I’ll think about it tomorrow, once everyone wakes up.
For the time being, I ordered the goblins to camp out next to the fire, told the dogs to go on standby around the village, and called it a night.
✦ ✦ ✦
Morning came.
I had spent the previous night thinking, mostly. The conclusion I came up with: Let the goblins take care of the direwolves! Perfect!
We had a total of seventy-two goblins left in fighting shape. No casualties from yesterday. At most, a few scratches. Meanwhile, we had eighty-one surviving direwolves parked outside the town fence—some wounded, but none so badly that a little recovery potion didn’t prop them right back up. They could’ve recovered themselves, I reckoned, with their intrinsic healing skills.
The morning began with me lining up the goblins who were awake. The children and elderly watched from the side. They couldn’t help but stick out, given the lack of any homes to hang out in.
Next to me was the village elder. He wanted to help me out somehow, I guess, but there wasn’t much an old goblin geezer could do for me. My personal aesthetic tastes remained unchanged from my human years.
That would never change, even though I was transmogrified into a slime. There would be no charming village princess I could ride off into the sunset with. I’d probably have to wait a while for that.
In front of this line of goblins, I summoned the direwolves. “Um, okay,” I began, “from now on, I’m gonna have you all form pairs and live with each other, all right?”
Then I gauged the response. I didn’t get much of one. They were waiting for me to continue, I guessed, not making a single sound as they stared at me. Nobody seemed to openly grimace at the idea of pairing up, at least, so I assumed I was on decent enough ground.
“Uh, do you understand what I mean? Like, groups of two, okay? Get to it!”
The moment I finished speaking, the goblins and the direwolves began exchanging glances with whoever was in front of them. Slowly and meekly, they followed my order. Yesterday’s enemy is today’s friend, and all that. They had to learn that the hard way, but at least everyone was on board.
Then I noticed something. Hang on, do any of these guys have names at all? How are they supposed to call for each other and stuff? What a pain in the ass.
“Elder,” I said as I watched the pairing process unfold to my side, “it’s too inconvenient for me to refer to you and your people. I’d like to give names to you all. Would that be all right?”
Everyone must have heard me somehow. Right at the word names, every single one of them was locked on to me—even the nonfighting goblins, clearly thrown by this turn of events.
“Are…are you sure…?” the elder timidly asked.
What’s the big deal, huh?
“Y-yeah, um… If it’s not a problem, I’d like to give out some names?”
It was as if I’d simultaneously blown the minds of every goblin on the premises. Each one erupted into enthusiastic cheering. What the hell? It’s as if they all just hit the lottery or something. If getting a name makes you that happy, why don’t you just do it yourselves? It all seemed so simple to me back then.
✦ ✦ ✦
I started with the elder, asking him what his son’s name was. He had been the sole named goblin in the village, now sadly passed. It was “Rigur,” apparently.
So I added a d on the end and named the elder “Rigurd.” No particular reason for it—it just sounded nice. “If your son was here,” I joked, “you could have him state his name and just kinda add d to the end of it, y’see?”
No one laughed. They thought I was serious. “I… I cannot express my gratitude enough,” he blubbered, “for being granted permission to take on my son’s name!” Yeah, great. I’m just shooting from the hip here, you know. It was starting to make me feel a bit guilty…but ah, what the hell!
The goblin scout leader, meanwhile, I named Rigur. I could’ve added a “II” to the end of it, I suppose, but why make this more complicated than it had to be? “Rigur” was fine. Fine enough that it made him kneel before me in prayer, as if this was the most emotional moment in his life. Cripes. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
So on I went, down the whole line. I also did the rest of the onlookers while I was at it, having families figure out their names together and coming up with whatever for the orphans and singles in the village.
They aren’t expecting to, like, keep recycling these names for generations to come, are they? If Rigurd has a grandson, maybe he could start calling himself “Rigurdd.” Or if he has a great-grandson, he could be “Rigurddd” and “Rigurd” then gets passed on to the youngest generation. Something like that? Pretty random, maybe, but how else do family traditions ever get started?
“Sir Rimuru,” the newly christened Rigurd plaintively asked, “we are so, so appreciative of this, but…are… Are you sure?”
“About what?”
“I mean, I am fully aware of the extent of your magical powers, Sir Rimuru, but…providing all of these names in one go… Will you be all right?”
What’s he talking about? I’m just handing out names to folks.
“Mm?” I replied. “No, no problem, I don’t think.” Then I went back to it. Rigurd raised his eyebrows for a moment, but I paid him no further mind.
✦ ✦ ✦
Once I was done with the goblins, it was time to move on to the direwolves. Their new leader would be the son of the old one—just as strong (and strong willed) as his father, and already looking every bit as stately.
Peering into his gold-colored eyes, I thought for a moment. Hmm. How about Ranga? That combines the Japanese characters for storm and fang into one peppy little word. Perfect! Cheap, maybe, but I rolled with it. I’m the Tempest; he’s got fangs…
Whatever came to mind first was best, I figured. This wasn’t my forte.
The moment I named him Ranga, I began to feel as if practically all the magicules flowing through my body were draining out of it. The sense of hollowness—of the violent emptying of my innards—was mind blowing. What… What’s going on? It was a fatigue like none I’d felt before.