Rimuru: A Second Chance that Won't Be Wasted

Demise of the Ogre Clan

In a separate location of the Great Forest of Jura, lay a certain ogre village. Once beautiful homes, inspired by a Japanese otherworlder who had lived in the village, were consumed by bright orange flames, lighting up the night sky.

The village clan leader had already ordered many to take a defensive position around the few areas that they still controlled. That was roughly half an hour ago, but none of the surviving ogres were sure. Perception of time changes completely when you are fighting for your life.

Most if not all defensive positions had already collapsed, due to the unexpected savagery and madness of the orcs. Along with the massive amount of armor and weapons, the invaders quickly overran any temporary defensive line the ogres had created.

Sitting in one of the ruined houses of the village, was the ogre clan leader. Red hair, racial and otherwise, were now ragged and disorderly. One of the two black horns on his head was cut off horizontally. His red mantle was torn and shredded, burn marks resulting from the cinders all around them.

He looked up, through the open doors, towards the few dozen warriors that were currently holding the line against a renewed attack by the pigs.

"Due to the sudden burst of Veldora's energy, and the movement of the other tribes, I posted more watchmen around the village. And it's a good thing I did...we had more time to respond when the orcs attacked us. It wasn't enough... and we lost many of our strongest warriors...but at least we are able to put up a decent amount of resistance...to ensure the survival of my son and his companions."

The ogre clan leader sighed in resignation. He knew that his time in this world was coming to an end. But he would not die in cowardice. He would die honorably, and hope that his teacher would ensure that his son, his daughter, and their companions would stay alive.

Grow stronger.

And perhaps one day avenge them.

He composed himself, dulling the rage that threatened to boil over. He took another moment to mourn the loss of his wife, and his friends.

"I had already watched my son escape alongside my daughter, their teacher, three of their close friends and a few escorts... It is time. There is no point delaying this any longer."

He stood up, walking right through the doors. Towards the battlefield.

He drew his sword, the very action causing both sides to suddenly pause in their battle.

"To me." he said

His comrades complied, all grouping up densely together, with the ogre leader at the front. The orcs did nothing but watch.

Suddenly, one clad in black armor, and a masked majin appeared. It was with sudden realization that the one clad in black was eating an arm of an adjutant that he had sent to safeguard his son. He growled. He would not despair. There was no use anyway.

He closed his eyes.

"May we meet our glorious deaths on this battlefield. And pray that our sacrifice will not be in vain."

The other ogres, both young and old, bleeding or unharmed, armed or unarmed, now stood resolute. No more hesitation. Just resignation and resolution.

"Our enemies' leader stands before us. CHARGE!"

A resounding roar, the battle cry of those without doubts, without fear. One small spearhead charging to meet a wave of enemies.

What followed was too gruesome to put into words.

Spittle and heads flew.

Limbs were chopped off and blood poured freely.

Bodies were crushed, or consumed.

And in the end, the leader of this particular ogre clan, one of the proud races of the Great Forest of Jura, fell.

Pierced by swords, spears and arrows alike. Battered and bruised. Blood poured freely from dozens of wounds.

And in his last moments, he stared at the sky, ignoring the orcs that bit into his body, as he could no longer feel pain.

As his eyes closed, he could dimly see a figure floating in the sky. Platinum blue hair, and a white shirt. Unnoticed by anyone else.

"You have fought well. But your story does not end here. Not yet."

The figure lifted an arm, and then he lost consciousness.

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Ciel quickly absorbed the souls of any ogres that had just died, before storing them in the {Imaginary Space} within Rimuru. Usually, they would be consumed by Azathoth, before being destroyed and turned into magicules. Instead, they were isolated into chambers to recover, before they awoke. She would have to speak with them again. Or she could get Veldora to do it.

"It is done, Master. Benimaru and the others should reach the same place as before, at roughly the same exact time, if not a bit earlier."

"Thank you...Ciel."

Her Master sounded tired. Weary, and she could understand why. The trauma of losing his loved ones, and wanting to keep the timeline the same so as to still be able to predict what will happen and when, was wearing him down.

They could always start over again, but it was clear to her that her Master would eventually go insane with grief.

He did not have Chloe O'Bell's resilience, and losing everyone he cherished again might make him do something that he would regret.

She wasn't sure if his regret was referring to his current actions or possible future ones.

Sometimes, when her Master thought that no one was looking, he would grow despondent, reflecting on his actions.

Doubts and hesitation always filled his eyes when he did this, no longer containing the unyielding, perhaps insane conviction that he once had. He swore he would protect his friends, and he had failed.

Ciel quickly left the battlefield, ensuring that nobody besides the dead saw her, or even noticed her. Her task had been accomplished, now returning to Master was the greatest priority.

As for what was in store in the future, well, she would always have a Master to guide her if she was unsure. And that went both ways.