The rage in Ranga’s snarl was palpable. As if chiding him, two ogres, one with blue hair and one with black, leaped in response.
A moment later, a shock wave formed a crater in the earth, sending piles of dirt and mud into the sky. The blast from Ranga’s Voice Cannon held enough power to atomize a group of goblins on the spot. But it would only work, of course, if it actually struck the ogres.
The dodge did not unnerve Ranga. He was proud of his abilities, but seeing them avoided was the least of his concerns at the moment. He sprang off the ground, hoping to end any tandem attack from the blue- and black-hairs before they could unleash it.
They were both still in the air, and Ranga took aim at the black ogre, reasoning this was the weaker of the two. Putting one out of the picture would rob them of the teamwork they seemed to be counting on in this battle.
Ranga was halfway toward realizing his goal. What he failed to notice was that he had more than two opponents. The moment he was in the air, a wall of fire suddenly appeared before him. It resembled the spiritual magic conjured by shamans, but it was a different type—a so-called mystic art, part of the family of illusory magic. Mastering such a complex spell indicated exactly how advanced these ogres were—not some rabble living primarily off instinct, but those capable of learning and acting on reason, like the human race.
The Flame Wall blocking Ranga’s path was not particularly harmful, but it did allow the caster to fully block a single enemy attack. Conjuring such a shield in front of an advancing foe could also serve as a smoke screen, earning the caster precious time to formulate a plan.
And that tactic succeeded. Losing his target, Ranga was forced to land back on the ground.
He didn’t enjoy engaging with such foes, who used tricks and feints to avoid a frontal assault at all costs. The illusory spell Confusion, cast at the start of battle, had also knocked his keen sense of smell off-line. At least the effects had not fully incapacitated him yet—though it had taken out most of his companions in battle, unable to resist the magic strike. The only ones who managed to fend it off were Rigur, head of the security team, and Gobta, Rigur’s right-hand man. The rest of the dozen or so hobgoblins that had been summoned here by an emergency call during a hunting run—along with their tempest wolf companions—were now de facto out of the battle.
Ranga resentfully stared down the wall of flame and the pink-haired ogre caster who had taken out his friends. There were six foes in all—six ogres, higher caste among the residents of the Forest of Jura. They were nothing to sniff at in battle—not the black- and blue-haired ogres Ranga attempted to engage, nor the purple-haired ogress Rigur was tangling with, nor the gray-haired ogre elder Gobta was fending off. Certainly not the magic-wielding pink-haired one, so effortlessly giving her companions a magical advantage, nor the red-haired ogre standing next to her, surveying the scene.
Not a one could be left to their own devices for a single moment. They were working as a team to fight Ranga and his friends, a strategy no unintelligent race would employ. Easily B rank or higher, by the looks of things. Rigur and Gobta, as stout as they were, couldn’t hold out for long.
If only my master, Rimuru, were here—
Ranga snickered at himself over the thought. Relying on his master like that would be unthinkable. Then, as if wiping away any weakness in his body, he howled with the full conviction needed for the decision he had to make.
✦ ✦ ✦
Peace had returned to the village, and the hobgoblins had been acting remarkably calm and composed despite the Ifrit attack that leveled the place.
The biggest surprise, I suppose, was how much of a born leader Rigurd, my newly appointed goblin king, turned out to be. Much more than I would’ve guessed. He had done a splendid job leading the work teams as they rebuilt the village while I watched after Shizu. Among Kaijin, the three dwarf brothers, and the four goblin lords, everyone seemed to be sticking to their duties, working efficiently for the other villagers.
Really, I didn’t need to do much besides offer a couple words of advice. Overseeing our food supply was Rigur, whenever he wasn’t busy handling security. Garm, oldest of the dwarves, was responsible for clothing; Dold, the next oldest, for making tools; and Mildo, the youngest, for home construction. All production was overseen by Kaijin, while Lilina, one of the goblin lords, managed our inventory of completed goods—that’s how I figured we’d split the responsibility.
The remaining goblin lords—Rugurd, Regurd, and Rogurd—became my ministers of justice, legislation, and administration respectively, all aiding Rigurd with keeping the local government together. Minister of legislation sounds like a highfalutin job, but all it really involved was taking whatever I blurted out and trying to turn it into coherent law. Simple, really.
These were more intelligent monsters than before, but they were still monsters. When someone stronger than them was around, they listened, mostly. So for the time being, everything was going pretty smoothly. No big problems on the road to building a new country.
✦ ✦ ✦
But I had other things on my mind anyway. I had this human body now, and I wasn’t too hot on draping rough animal pelts over it. So I decided to have someone make me some proper clothes.
Being a slime had proven to be quite useful, here and there, but it had its disadvantages. Apart from certain magical items, I was unable to wear any armor or, you know, grip a weapon. And slimehood itself didn’t suck, but being “naked” (so to speak) could potentially lead to problems. What if I got a paper cut on a leaf or twig or something as I was going through the forest, and then some kind of poison or virus infected me? It pays to be careful, and I figured some actual armor would assuage any anxiety I had about that. I had just about given up on it unless I was able to find just the right magic item, but now that I could turn into a human, the world was my oyster—and the dwarves were making all kinds of stuff from the magical ingredients they seized from monsters after a hunt.
So I paid a visit to Garm, hoping to at least acquire a child’s-size outfit. He was stationed at our little clothing factory, a log cabin that had come into being when I wasn’t paying attention, and he was overseeing a small team of goblinas as they sewed away.
“Yo, Garm! I could use some clothing for myself.”
“Uh, you sure about that, boss? How are you planning to wear it?”
“Heh-heh-heh…heh-heh… Haaaa-ha-ha-ha! That’s what you’ve got to say? If you think I was planning to be a slime forever, you’ve got another think coming, man! Haaaahhhh!!”
“Wh-wha?! You’re…growing…? …Well, not too much actually, huh? Were you a child all along, or…?”
“Eesh, I was hoping for a little more shock and awe… Ah well. I can be full-size, too, but this is a lot easier. So could you make an outfit that’d fit?”
“Oh, sure, sure. Mind if I take some measurements? Hey, Haruna, let’s get the boss all measured up!”
I was naked, of course, but I didn’t let that bother me as Haruna the goblina came up with a measuring rope. I was just a child, after all, and my body was genderless.
“Oh my!” she exclaimed, blushing a little. “You’ve become so cute, my lord!”
Cute? I mean, I personally thought so, yes, but did that still apply when it was a goblin’s worldview? And for that matter, did monsters have aesthetic standards like mine? If you went way down the food chain, they were related to fairies, so perhaps their tastes were closer to mine than I gave them credit for.
So Haruna measured me, Garm told me to come back in a few days, and that was it. Having nothing more pressing to do, I decided to test out the skills I had obtained a bit ago.