Rimuru the sin of love

Everybody watch me

Ludociel's POV

She caught him.
She actually caught him.

Sariel—the fastest among us, the most refined in aerial combat, the blade of our will—fell.

Not because of recklessness. Not because of carelessness. But because she outmaneuvered him. Outsmarted him. Outlasted him and then she had the audacity—the composure—to catch him. Gently.

Like a knight rescuing a fallen comrade. Or worse... like a goddess humbling a celestial.

I rose slowly from my seat overlooking the arena, arms folded tightly across my chest, my jaw set so firm it ached. The arena had gone silent. Only the wind stirred now, brushing against the shields that surrounded the sacred dueling grounds.

She held Sariel in her arms, bridal style, his face flushed somewhere between exhaustion and embarrassment. She looked down at him with a calm smile—no gloating, no arrogance. Just a quiet satisfaction.

What kind of being does this?

She hadn't drawn the sword. She never even truly went on the offensive until the end.

Despite that, she turned one of the Four Archangels into a falling star with a single move—a spell powered by a demonic weapon, filtered through what I could only assume was magic she had created herself.

This wasn't imitation. This wasn't borrowed strength. It was her own.

"She's dangerous," I muttered under my breath, barely aware that I'd said it aloud.

Tarmiel didn't look away from the arena. "She held back. She could've ended it much more harshly."

"Exactly," I snapped. "She knew. She calculated the impact. She ensured the strike was just strong enough to incapacitate—no more."

Mael, silent for the last few moments, finally spoke. "She didn't fight to win. She fought to demonstrate and now she's shown all of us what she's capable of... without even using her full strength."

My hands tightened at my sides.

I didn't like her.

Not because she was cruel—not because she was reckless or arrogant. But because she was too composed. Too precise. Too perfectly attuned to the line between respect and power.

She didn't break the rules. She played within them—and still made us look foolish.

The worst part? The Necklace of Fate still clung to her like it belonged there. Like it was grateful to serve her.

The crowd slowly began to murmur again, soft voices rising in wonder and awe. Some cheered—others just stared in disbelief. Even among celestials, there was admiration now.

I hated it. Because I knew what it meant.

She had just won the realm's respect. All the while she did it m holding back.

I turned away from the window, cloak sweeping behind me.

"Summon the High Seraphim," I said to the attendant at the back of the council platform.

"Lord Ludociel?"

"If the Supreme Deity doesn't already know what just happened," I growled, "She will now."

Because this isn't just about a duel anymore.

This is about who—and what—Rimuru truly is. Whether or not we can afford to let her walk freely in our realm a moment longer.

Supreme Deity's POV

In the stillness between all things—above time, beneath consequence—I heard a name not woven into the threads of fate.