Evil Dragon Veldora Tempest

The hobgoblins Rimuru named had tried to swarm the ogres as a pack, and still lost. They can't be blamed for that—it is inevitable that the weak fall to the strong. It is an ironclad rule of the world.

Now, Rimuru is giving one of the wailing hobgoblins some healing potion. He made it back before the worst could happen, it seems.

"All those you see collapsed are alive and well. They were merely put to sleep with magic," said Rigur, the son of Rigurd.

That is a relief. Who better to worship his splendor than Rimuru's companions and followers? Veldora shall hear no praises of my name if they are dead.

Clang, clang, clang—the sounds of battle ring out.

The fighting continues with Rimuru's pet against the ogres.

"I think its name is... Ranga? He is handling two ogres at once, and holding his ground. His effective resistance against magic has made the beast rather powerful. But this does not matter. Now that Rimuru is here, the ogres are finished."

"After how easily he crushed the Ifrit and absorbed its power, Rimuru has nothing to fear from a rabble of six ogres!" someone exclaimed.

"Umm... Veldora-sama, could you at least not say that right in front of me...?"

"Okay," Veldora replied with a dismissive chuckle.

"I'd appreciate it..." said Ifrit. For some reason, he seemed annoyed—even though he did show some contrition. But that wasn't the important thing; Veldora's attention shifted to the ogres. Among them were two female ogres—

"Hoh… that pink-haired one, the princess. And the tall, purple-haired beauty… Quite the fine specimens, aren't they?" Veldora mused. "It would be a waste for such lovely women to perish in battle. Perhaps I should make them my mates when I am freed from this prison. Kwaaa-ha-ha-ha!"

Ifrit, standing beside him, flinched at Veldora's sudden declaration. His fiery eyes blinked in confusion.

"V-Veldora-sama… what do you mean by 'mates'?" Ifrit asked hesitantly.

Veldora turned to him, an incredulous look on his face. "What? You don't know? Surely, even as a flame spirit, you must understand the joys of mating!'"

Ifrit's flames flickered uncertainly. "Uh… no? I mean, I was bound to Shizue Izawa for years, and she never… uh… engaged in such activities."

Veldora's jaw dropped. "What?! You mean to tell me that even after all those years of traveling, she never once—?"

Ifrit shook his head quickly. "Not once! She was far too busy with her duties. I don't think she even thought about it."

"What a waste!?!"

Ifrit coughed awkwardly. "Well, I don't really see the appeal of it anyway…"

Veldora dramatically gasped, clutching his chest as if Ifrit had just struck him with a fatal blow. "Blasphemy! You poor, deprived creature! To live without knowing the wonders of sex—"

Veldora was about teach ifrit about the thrill of sex he learned from the sacred text but his attention shifted as a loud explosion from the battlefield interrupted his rant, drawing both of their attention back to the screen.

"It seems the battle is afoot!" Veldora said, shaking off his disappointment.

The ogres had rejected Rimuru's offer of peace. There was clearly more to their story, but they had chosen violence first. A foolish decision, but an amusing one.

Ranga was holding his ground against the pink-haired princess, his natural resistance to magic making him a tough opponent. Meanwhile, Rimuru faced the other five ogres on his own, his posture relaxed yet unshakable.

"Hmph. He will win, of course," Veldora stated confidently. "But why waste time? If Rimuru simply went all out, he could annihilate them in an instant. Kwaaa-ha-ha-ha!"

"Veldora-sama… you do realize Rimuru doesn't enjoy needless slaughter, right?" Ifrit sighed.

Veldora huffed. "Yes, yes. Always so soft, that one. If it were me, I'd just—" He paused, his gaze lingering on the two female ogres once again.

"...Actually, never mind. I suppose sparing them wouldn't be so bad. After all, it would be a shame to lose such fine women."

...

The ogres had not yet noticed the full extent of Rimuru's power. Monsters instinctively recognize the difference in strength between themselves and others by the relative size of their magical energy—they detect the aura that exudes from others. But due to Rimuru's mysterious mask, his aura is completely shut off. It seems the ogres are vastly underestimating him as a result. Yet even so, the situation remains precarious.

These ogres appear intelligent and think much as humans do. Therefore, they fight not based on animal instinct but on experience and disciplined technique. Humankind, though physically inferior, develops techniques through the accumulation of experience, which are then passed on to others. In time, this produces individuals capable of besting even mighty monsters. If these physically powerful ogres have learned to build on their techniques, it will be difficult to gauge their true power solely by levels of magical energy.

Rimuru understands that too, of course. That is why he carefully observes their actions before making his move.

Ah, the black-haired one strikes! He swung a massive hammer down upon Rimuru—a mighty, slow swing that would hardly be sufficient to bring him down.

Just as expected, Rimuru quickly dodged the swing and emitted "Paralysis Breath" from his palm to neutralize the black-haired ogre.

Without pause, a purple-haired female now charged at him from behind. Veldora got a great view of her; her ample curves and bouncing assets caught his eye.

"Now that's a sight!"

In no time at all, Rimuru trussed the woman up with Sticky and Steel Thread. But the black-haired one and the purple-haired one were merely decoys. While they grabbed attention with their attacks, the blue-haired ogre prepared to strike.

However, Rimuru blocked this incoming blow by powering his arm with [Body Armor]." That skill, originally from the Armorsaurus, had become his own. Using it to protect a single part of his body at a time was a striking and inspired choice. Combined with his "Paralysis Breath," Rimuru had learned to transform his slime body into nearly anything he desired.

"I am truly impressed by this fight," Veldora remarked, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

And Veldora was not the only one impressed. The eldest of the ogres was watching the battle closely, brilliantly naming each of the skills Rimuru deployed along with their sources. It was clear that the ogre elder possessed "Magic Sense" too, and for an ogre, his aura was suspiciously shielded...

"Perhaps this ogre elder is actually the most troublesome of them all—even more so than the ogre princess?" Veldora mused. His instincts were proven correct when, in an instant, the elder got behind Rimuru and severed his arm.

"I am a genius. Once again, I am impressed with my own brilliance—but I suppose this is not the best time to reflect on it," Veldora thought to himself.

It was stunning to see what a physically gifted ogre could do when paired with a level of skill that surpassed most. Of course, such feats meant nothing to transcendent beings like Veldora, and they barely bothered Rimuru. If the ogre had been in the prime of his youth, it might have been a tougher fight. But with Rimuru's "Pain Nullification" and "Ultraspeed Regeneration," even a simple slicing attack did nothing.

"M...monster!!" cried the younger leader of the ogres, his voice echoing across the battlefield.

......

.....

....

After some persuasion from the pink-haired ogre princess, the leader of the ogres finally relented. With a deep breath, he stepped forward and bowed his head.

"I was wrong," he said sincerely. "I let my anger blind me. We attacked without understanding the situation. Please forgive us."

His change of heart was so honest and true that even Veldora had to reassess his opinion of the ogres.

"Hmph. I must admit, this leaves me feeling conflicted," Veldora muttered, arms crossed. "If it had been me, I would have eliminated them immediately. But that would have left me unable to come to an understanding with them in this way."

Ifrit, for once, nodded in agreement. "I hate to admit it, but… you have a point, Veldora-sama. It seems Rimuru's way of doing things has its own merits."

"Maybe I should work on some techniques to incapacitate my opponents instead of killing them," Veldora mused.

Ifrit scratched his head. "Maybe that's not what—" Ifrit suddenly had a bad feeling as he looked at Veldora, who was now transforming.

Soon the dragon transformed into a humanoid shape. Veldora now had messy blonde hair and sharp golden eyes. His muscular upper body was exposed, with a dark cloak draped over his shoulders. He wore loose black pants, white armored greaves, and matching gauntlets, radiating power and wild energy.

Veldora had chosen this appearance based on the characters he admired in the sacred texts. And surprisingly, a blonde guy with tan skin was quite famous with the ladies.

"Yes! I have finally gained my own human form!!" he declared triumphantly.

"Master Veldora, what in the world are you doing...?" Ifrit asked.

"Kwaaa ha ha ha! Can't you see, Ifrit? Now that I have my own human form, there is only one thing to do!"

"...And that is?"

"It is obvious. Now we may learn the ways of human techniques!!" Veldora declared to Ifrit.

As seen among the ogres, the addition of high experience levels to superior physical attributes can lead to unfathomable power. The ogre elder certainly managed to fool Rimuru—a good example that fighting potential is more than just simple numerical ability values.

"You don't intend to fight me here, do you?" Ifrit asked, suddenly wary.

"Of course I do. Do not worry—it is not an actual battle, just a facsimile. And having your conceptual self destroyed isn't the same as death, is it?" Veldora continued confidently.

In this little cage of a world, Veldora had created a copied form out of pure imagination. It was a creation of pure thought, not physical. But with the strict boundaries of this internal world, there was no fear of it multiplying out of control. That is, in fact, the very condition that made it possible. So Veldora wasn't worried about Ifrit dying here.

"O-only for you, Master Veldora! I'm not—" Ifrit began, but his protest was cut off. He started screaming about something or other, but it didn't matter—probably just fussing over some trivial detail, like always.

"Ready to begin?" Veldora called out.

"A-are you listening to—?" Ifrit stammered.

"Spare no quarter!" Veldora roared as he struck a pose and unleashed a kick on Ifrit. It was a technique he had learned from his holy manga texts—a kick attack that darted and changed course in midair like a dragon in flight.

This technique was impossible with the moving parts of the human body, but Veldora had managed to make it work in practical combat. To Veldora's great delight, Ifrit looked stunned and desperately prepared to defend against it.

"I keep trying to tell you, if you destroy me, I will be obliterated for good! Besides, I have never engaged in martial combat to begin with!!" the Ifrit wailed pathetically.

'I have never engaged in martial combat, either. Why else would I be trying to learn it now? If he vanishes from here, he can just reappear somewhere else again. Such a needless worrywart he is,' Veldora thought.

"Here goes some more!"

"Wh-wh-whaaa-?!" cried Ifrit as Veldora tried out all the moves he could imagine. Then he selected those that seemed useful, planning to work on them further. The holy manga texts were not always accurate in their depictions; some of the techniques turned out to be nonsense. Crossing his limbs did not produce any vacuum waves, and no matter how he tried, he could not break down the target's natural resistance with his first blow and destroy it entirely with the second.

But such things happen. At any rate, Veldora brought many of these techniques into practical use. It was the birth of the Veldora-Style Killing Arts—an ultra-practical style of physical combat based on well-placed blows. Now it was his mission in life to develop this techniques.

"Um, c-can we stop now?" gasped Ifrit, who was in tatters for some reason. The light seemed to have gone from his eyes.

Was he all right? Veldora was not a demon, so of course, he had mercy.

"Absolutely," Veldora said kindly.

"I will wait for you to recover before I resume the beating."

But for some reason, the Ifrit simply passed right out. Ah, of course! He wanted to heal himself quickly in order to continue Veldora's lessons. Most excellent.

And that was how his secret training began.