That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime

Conqueror of Flame

Raphael is troublesome girl I will say, did an angry girlfriend like that? Since we entering the Dwargon she is treating me with silence because a little accident. Yes, it just a little accident. Because of that now I'm pretty sure she isn't just a skill anymore.

Because of that, I'm gonna tell my story recruiting the dwarf artisan in later time. Who know when that time, but it a bit tricky because Raphael isn't in good mood, so better take it slow; I'm a grown man, didn't want to involve my selves in troublesome problem?

I never have girlfriend, but is this how it feels? Probably not, right?

What kind of story is this? Having a girlfriend that live inside your own soul? Err... share the same soul with your selves? Isn't that supposed to be romantic? How the hell I would know that when I lived my entire life before as a single? This is didn't make sense!

But let's forget about that for now.

So, there we were. Back at the goblin village. It had been only about two weeks, but I was seriously starting to miss it a little. Assuming you wanted to call it a village at all. It was more of an empty space with a fence around it.

***

While we were gone, a few simple tents had been pitched around the area. There were signs of progress, at least. I spotted a large iron pot situated over the remains of the central campfire. Goblin cuisine used to be all about spit-roasting—but now they'd added simmering to the mix!

This was a truly remarkable development. Where'd they get that thing? Taking a closer look, I realized it was fashioned from the shell of a big turtle. Man, how much did they expand their hunting grounds while I was gone? I was glad they'd kept their home base safe, at least.

The resident hobgoblins spotted our returning party quickly, greeting us with cheers and applause. I had rudely forgotten to bring souvenirs, but given the monster pelts and such I spotted drying here and there—proceeds from their hunting, no doubt—I was sure the dwarves would have everyone kitted up and clothed before long. I'd like the goblins to make that stuff themselves later, but let's take it one step at a time.

I tried looking around for Rigurd so I could introduce the dwarves to him. I didn't need to. He ran right up to me. I thought he was just excited to see us, but he had something bothering him instead.

"Welcome back!" he said before I could ask. "I hate to bother you so soon after returning, Sir Rimuru, but we have visitors..." Visitors? ...But I don't remember having any friends.

I decided to let the dwarves show themselves around. They'd be living here for a while, and I was sure they were curious to see what it was like. I also stowed the tools I'd brought along in an empty tent, figuring the covering would at least offer some protection against the elements.

Leaving our new residents to Rigur, I had the elder guide me to our guests. He took me to one of the larger tents, which had been converted into a sort of meeting room. Who could it be? I guess I'll find out, I thought as I bounced in.

Once I passed under the flap, I stopped. Inside were a bunch of goblins—the regular kind. Several of them were well dressed, each one accompanied by a handful of servants. Some elders and their guards, maybe? Nobody was armed. Not that I minded that.

Before I could ask what was up, the goblins prostrated themselves on the floor.

"""It is an honor to meet you, O great master!""" they all shouted in unison. """Please, listen to our most earnest of hopes!"""

Great master? I guess they mean me, but really, that's going too far. They sure believed it, though. Their eyes couldn't have been more longing or resolute. There was no telling what they wanted, but I figured I'd hear them out.