That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime

Recruit the Ogres

I could hear screaming as I approached the scene of the battle.

It was Gobta.

He was crossing swords with an elderly white-haired ogre, but he was far out of his league. Whatever physical strength and agility this adversary had lost over the years, his swordsmanship and footwork made it clear he was no amateur. Gobta, meanwhile, was totally an amateur. I had to hand it to him for managing to stay alive up to this point. He seemed to be holding his own for now, wildly flinging his body around to dodge the ogre's strikes, but his astounding luck could only save him for so long.

A moment later, the elderly ogre closed the distance between them and landed a single slash across Gobta's whole chest, right before my eyes.

"Gaahhhh!!" he shouted as he rolled on the ground. "Oh, that hurts! I—I may die! I may very well die here!!"

I figured he was fine if he had the energy to plead his case with that much gusto. Besides, to my eye, his opponent didn't seem very intent on killing him.

Noticing my presence, the wizened ogre abandoned the fight, confident enough that Gobta was no longer a threat.

"Calm down, you. The wound is a shallow one."

"Gah, Rimuru-sama! Are you here because you were concerned about me, my lord?!"

"Yes," I said, "and I'm glad you're in good shape. Don't need a recovery potion or anything, I see."

"Whoa, I, um, please? I—I apologize if I didn't make that clear enough!"

Yeah, he was fine. His wild instincts must've propelled him to the ground, preventing him from being any more seriously injured. So, I tossed him a bit of potion, more to shut him up than anything. One flask was plenty. The old ogre didn't move while I administered treatment; it seemed like he was observing me instead. It was a little unnerving.

The area around us was littered with fallen hobgoblin warriors and tempest wolves. None appeared to be dead, but knocking them all out without dealing any grievous wounds would've taken some serious talent. A magical strike, perhaps.

Farther off, I spotted a purple-haired ogress fighting with Rigur.

This, too, was sadly one-sided. The ogress, wielding an iron mace that was little more than an enormous hunk of metal, was apparently blessed with superhuman strength. Rigur's sword was starting to bend against it, and his wooden shield was long since battered to splinters. It wouldn't be long before he was out of the picture, too.

Ranga, noticing me, sprang to my side. "Rimuru-sama," he said, "my deepest apologies. I was here, and yet, look at this disaster..."

I stopped him mid-sentence. This wasn't Ranga's fault; they just had the misfortune of running into the wrong adversary. These were ogres, one of the highest-level races in the Forest of Jura, and no hobgoblin could hope to last too long against them.

"Hold your weapons," I softly ordered Rigur and the other stragglers. He instantly did so upon hearing my command. The ogress, instead of striking any further blows, gave me a thoughtful look. She was large-framed, muscular, but still in proportion. Her chest was formed enough to make her identifiable as female, and to my surprise, she looked quite a bit more noble than I expected.

I ordered Ranga to take the exhausted Rigur away. The ogres, while still wary of me, made no move to stop him.

"Rimuru-sama... I—I cannot express my sorrow..."

Rigur, covered in scratches from head to toe, could barely form a single word or two between breaths. Against the purple-haired ogre, he had little chance of victory. His skills maybe hovered around B rank on a good day.