Rimuru the sin of love (temporary break)

That was too close to the Truth

Mael's POV

I had listened longer than I normally would have. Not out of indifference—but fascination. From the moment Rimuru stepped into the High Council Hall, there was a stirring in the fabric of the divine, a whisper of something... ancient.

Something familiar.

Not in the way one recalls a name or face—but in the way old instincts rise when touched by echoes of a world long gone. She carried herself with a serenity I hadn't seen since before the Celestial War. Her aura shimmered like fractured light—composed, contained... but deeper than it had any right to be.

And so I remained silent, while Ludociel questioned and judged, while Sariel weighed and warned.

I watched. I listened. I remembered.

Only now did I find the words I needed.

"I must speak," I said softly, though my voice cut through the chamber like a bell.

Everyone turned to me, even Ludociel. Rimuru's eyes flicked toward mine—curious, steady, unafraid.

"I have remained silent because I've been trying to place something. A sensation, a... resonance." I stepped forward, my gaze never leaving hers. "There is something in you, Rimuru—something older than your appearance suggests. I sensed it the moment you crossed the threshold of this hall."

She tilted her head, not denying it. That, in itself, spoke volumes.

"You remind me of something," I continued, "something I have not felt since before the Celestial War. Before the heavens and the earth divided their laws, before our ranks were drawn."

A murmur passed through the chamber. Even Ludociel's posture shifted slightly, more attentive.

"There were beings in that age," I said slowly, "who did not align with gods or demons. Beings who shaped the world without declaring dominion over it. You carry their echo."

Rimuru didn't blink. She didn't pretend not to know what I meant. That, too, was telling.

"I don't know what you are," I added quietly. "But I suspect you are not just a traveler. And I suspect that even the Necklace of Fate didn't choose you by chance."

Her expression softened for the first time. Not sorrowful. Not surprised. Just... real.

"I never claimed to be simple," she replied, her voice lower than before. "But whatever I remind you of, Mael—it's because I carry what they left behind."

She paused, her gaze turning distant for the briefest of moments.

"I am the last of something. Something forgotten, and yes—ancient. But I have no intention of being anyone's enemy. Only of preserving what little remains."

For a long moment, I said nothing. Neither did the others. The hall itself felt quieter, heavier. As if the divine light bore witness to truths that could not be spoken aloud.

When I finally spoke again, my voice was calm. "Then perhaps you are not a threat, Rimuru. Perhaps you are a reminder. Of what came before... and what could be again."

She inclined her head. Not in submission. Not in victory. Just... acknowledgment.

I had not spoken to accuse her. I had spoken to understand. And somehow, I felt I was only beginning.
Her silence after my words was not defensive, nor hesitant. It was the kind of silence I'd only heard from beings who were truly weighing what to reveal—not because they sought to manipulate, but because they feared what truth might do.

When Rimuru finally spoke, her voice was softer than before. Not uncertain... but vulnerable.

"I have to confess," she began, her gaze turning away from the council and fixing on me alone, "I was afraid of what you would think of me when you realized what I carry."