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Noir couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so intrigued by something. He was a capricious demon by nature, a fickle being who very rarely found anything that truly interested him. Of course, when he did find something worthy of his time, he would give it his full and undivided attention. It was the way of his entire lineage, as few and far between as his descendants were.
What caught his attention this time was not a person per se, but rather an object in their possession. It was an otherworlder, a summons to be precise, by the name of Shizue. Already she was an intriguing little human simply by the fact that she rejected becoming a Majin. Noir knew of very few humans who would deny themselves the chance to live beyond their limited span. Granted, he never paid much attention to them to begin with.
However, it wasn’t this Majin rejection that caught Noir’s attention. Instead, it was that this Shizue possessed a unique magical artifact: a mask. This mask nullified not only the magic of the Greater Elemental Spirit Ifrit that resided within her, but it also kept the ravages of time from revealing themselves. It was one of a kind, without copy or comparison.
Normally, such a trinket wouldn't bother Noir, since he was quite capable of fooling humans into underestimating him without such a paltry item. However, when he engaged in battle with the human hero Shizue, his attempt to take her down resulted in the destruction of his body’s right arm. That, on top of the fact that she'd actually succeeded in hurting him on her own, was enough to leave him intrigued long after his time was up and he returned to the land of demons.
As one of the seven Primordial Demons, Noir didn’t need to continue maintaining his rank like the various lesser and greater demons. No one dared to challenge him unless they sought a slow, torturous death. This meant that he had all the time in the world to keep an eye on his latest fascination.
He wanted to figure out the secret of this mask, and how it could have been able to harm a Primordial, even in the weak body he had been granted at the time. So, he watched the Conqueror of Flames make her way across the world, making a name for herself while slaying all manner of monsters, perhaps to make up for the fact that she could not slay the beast residing within her soul. He watched her try to hunt down the Demon Lord who summoned her to this world, hoping to save the lives of some children who shared her circumstance. He didn't pay them much mind, as he had no real interest in anything outside of the Conqueror, and her mask.
At least, until he met the slime.
It was a chance encounter, where the Conqueror was traveling with some frivolous adventurers. Ifrit was growing restless and a monster nearly consumed her. That is, until the Slime consumed it first. Immediately upon seeing the small, gelatinous ball, Noir felt… something. This slime was not like one of the barely sentient creatures that roamed the deep caves. Not only could this one speak, but it had united monsters together to form a town, and had the power to keep them safe.
“Nice to meet you! My name is Rimaru the Slime! I’m not a bad slime, slurp!”
Noir slowly found his attention shifting from the mask to the slime, a named monster that went by Rimuru Tempest. The power they had was immense, magicules rolling off of them even with most of their aura stored in the seemingly infinite space of their stomach. He was almost disappointed when Shizue prepared to leave but figured he could occasionally check in on Rimuru when he got the chance.
In the end, his minor dilemma was solved for him when Shizue lost control of Ifrit and was consumed. It was expected to say the least. The mask had maintained its ability to keep the elemental spirit at bay for many decades, but Shizue was a mere mortal in the end, and her time had come to an end.
Noir barely remembered the fight between the slime and Ifrit, only that Rimuru emerged the victor and consumed the fire spirit. The mask vanished into their stomach, and the Conquer passed on, her essence consumed to make the slime more powerful. The Primordial, being the fickle creature he was, found that he was rather entranced by the youthful body this merger granted the slime. They looked unassuming, but there was power behind those eyes. Power that left Noir entranced.
Perhaps in his continued study of the mask in the slime’s possession, he would have the chance to also study this truly unique specimen. Rimuru Tempest, the slime monster, tamer of Dire Wolves, ruler of the goblins, and inheritor of the Hero’s will. Yes, Noir could see a great future in store for this creature, one that he was eager to see more of.
~\~/~
Noir was not disappointed the longer he watched. His Rimuru (at some point, he came to see the slime as his. He couldn’t remember exactly when, only that it was a decision he would never regret) took on nearly all the goblins of the Forest of Jura, then went on to name and domesticate six ogres, evolving them into powerful kijin. They were beseeched by the Dryads to defeat an Orc Lord, made allies with the lizardfolk, and consumed a newly forged Demon Lord Seed. Watching Rimuru effortlessly fell such a powerful foe left Noir utterly entranced.
“If you are Starved, then I am a Devourer!”
They were truly a powerful beast, so powerful, and yet so kind. It was no wonder that they so easily gathered the Forest denizens under their command, leaving Noir in total awe. All of these creatures, powerful by mortal standards, all bowed before their rightful lord and master, and Noir couldn’t help but wish to join them. It was perhaps the first time in his eons of eternity that the Black Primordial had longed to be summoned.
Demons summoned to the mortal realm were always at the beck and call of whoever summoned them. While Rouge had found a workaround, and Blanche chose to be picky, Noir truly had no real interest in being summoned outside of the occasional fit of boredom. But now… now Noir wanted to be summoned more than anything, just so he could bask in the glory that was Rimuru Tempest.
Sadly, Rimuru did not possess the skills to summon Noir to the mortal realm. While the demon could take a random summoning and perhaps emulate Rouge to gain his freedom, he wanted to be the slime’s servant, and no one else’s. So no, he would be patient and watch. He had eternity after all.
~\~/~
The rise of Charybdis gave Noir the chance to see Rimuru as a leader, commanding their armies with great strength. Even if that pink-haired dragon brat, who continued to declare herself his slime’s “bestie for restie”, was the one who defeated it in the end. Still, he did get to see Rimuru consume the essence of the beast, enhancing their powers further and gaining themselves the kinship of a second Demon Lord.
If only the slime would consider the dragon girl’s proposal of becoming a Demon Lord themselves. Noir held no doubts that Rimuru would make a very interesting Demon Lord. Certainly, they were more worthy than any of the pathetic mortal beasts who currently held the titles. Although, given that his slime was currently pondering over two such beasts as potential threats and enemies, Rimuru’s destiny as a Demon Lord might just be ahead.
Noir couldn’t help but chuckle at the foolishness of the two Demon Lords who had dared to anger his slime. He had yet to see what Rimuru would do when truly consumed with rage, but with what they were capable of normally, it would no doubt be a sight to behold.
~\~/~
Noir found himself regretting that he had not paid attention to the children Shizue had elected to help, especially now that Rimuru had taken up the mission. The Primordial had begun taking almost painstakingly detailed notes of all the beings that his slime showed favor to. He wanted to ensure that when (there was no if) he was finally summoned to serve his precious Rimuru, he would be the perfect servant.
Such an occasion was a possibility now, thanks to some foolish human from the adventurers guild who inadvertently taught Rimuru Demon Summoning magic. Should Noir ever be summoned to kill the man, he would grant him the courtesy of a short, relatively painless death.
Noir watched as Rimuru made fools of the uppity little brats, then proceeded to consume an entire Sky Dragon on a whim. He watched his slime venture into the Dwelling of Spirits, making a fool of the tiny pixie who proclaimed itself another Demon Lord, and aiding the brats in summoning Superior Spirits to protect them. It was truly a sight to behold, seeing Rimuru forge fresh spirits from nothing but spiritual particles. Was there nothing his beloved slime couldn’t do?
Then, it happened, a summoning ritual not for spirits, but for a Greater Demon. No souls were offered, but a magisteel vessel crafted lovingly by hand. Noir longed to accept the summoning and its offering, but another snatched it up first. Granted, this summoning was not to serve as Rimuru’s servant, but as a protector of the annoying insect demon lord. So, despite the insurmountable rage he felt towards the member of his lineage who stole his summoning, he was grateful that he had missed the window. Still, it could not happen-... no. It would not happen again.
Following the aftermath of Beretta’s summoning, Noir had made sure the entirety of the Demon World knew that none were to accept summonings from Rimuru Tempest until he himself was summoned. Only then would he allow their pathetic, unworthy eyes to gaze upon the majesty of the all-powerful slime lord. As such, even though he knew that this summoning would have left him to fester in a labyrinth with that annoying pixie, Noir couldn’t help but feel jealous as his descendant accepted such a beautiful body as a gift.
~\~/~
Hinata Sakaguchi… Such a powerful, strong-willed human. Noir had vague memories of her during his observations of Shizue, but she had gotten stronger over time. Strong enough that Rimuru was outmatched in terms of power. However, Noir did not obsess over the slime merely for their power level or their possession of the Conquerer’s Mask. (In fact, said mask was now in the hands of one of the brats. Of course, by now, his attention had shifted to the slime, even if the Mask was still a mystery he hoped to solve one day) No, Rimuru’s true strength was in their ability to survive. Using a body double to fake their demise, they escaped with their life and returned to their town.
The city of Rimuru in the nation of Tempest, once a tiny goblin village, was now a thriving Monster Nation. Or at least, it had been. When Rimuru returned to their home, everything was destroyed and bodies littered the streets, the result of pitiful, greedy humans from the Kingdom of Farmus. Normally such massacres would mean nothing to the Primordial, but these mortals… were Rimuru’s. Had he a physical body, Noir was certain his blood would be boiling on behalf of his slime, who seemed to be taking the losses terribly. They even had to summon a copy of the Conqueror's Mask to keep their latent magicules from utterly destroying their weakened-
Crack!
The Primordial’s eyes snapped open wide, a gasp slipping from his lips. Across the left side of this mask, a perfect replica only lacking the time-absorbing abilities, a massive crack had formed. This mask that had held back the power of the Fire Spirit Ifrit, which had utterly destroyed Noir’s arm, was cracking from the train of his slime’s grief.
He was at a loss for words, stunned beyond belief. Just who was this slime? How did they have the power to cause such damage to such a powerful relic?! As he watched his slime struggle to maintain their emotions, their power boiling over and threatening to consume everything, Noir was entranced. Truly he’d made the right call when he chose to continue observing Rimuru.
“Lord Rimuru, wait!”
Oh, the frivolous adventurers came back. This was unexpected. Honestly, Noir hoped Rimuru would consume them as well as the bodies of the fallen. They were a nuisance and-
“Listen, the odds are pretty low… in fact, they’re basically zero… but I know a fairytale about bringing the dead back to life!”
Noir’s eyes went wide, instantly knowing exactly what this mortal was referring to. The Secret Art of Resurrection, a spell so complicated that calling it High-Level would be an insult. The amount of magicules needed for such a spell was immeasurable, and the control needed beyond comprehension. As far as Noir knew, it had only been performed once, which was why it had become a fairytale. Of course, it had failed miserably, but if Rimuru were to perform the ritual…
Of course, his beloved slime could pull off such a miracle, once they had the power to do what needed to be done. They couldn’t perform the spell as they were now, the chances of success being just above 3 percent. But luckily for his precious slime, they had all the tools they needed to change that. Noir was utterly giddy, grinning from ear to ear as Rimuru made their choice. Soon, Noir would bear witness to the birth of a True Demon Lord.
~\~/~
"MEGIDDO!"
Death quite literally rained down upon the unsuspecting soldiers of Farmus, bodies dropping at a rapid pace. It was breathtaking, the rage of the calm slime who wanted nothing but peace between all races. No one was spared, not a tear was shed, and not a single regret lingered in Rimuru’s heart.
If Noir hadn’t been utterly obsessed before, he most certainly was now. This was not a bloody war or a battle for survival like he had seen many times over. This was a slaughter, plain and simple. Sometimes, Rimuru purposely severed a limb, filling the sky with anguished screams. Noir shuddered in pure bliss.
Farmus would never recover from these losses, and Rimuru’s ascension into a Demon Lord would be fueled by the souls of their enemies. The king, a shriveled man who thought himself above Rimuru because of their monster roots, was spared the carnage but lost both an arm and a leg to the uncaring slime. A church archbishop was also spared, no doubt so Rimuru could learn about the church and how to bring them to heel. The rest… were fodder for the slime lord. Out of the 20,000 soldiers that dared to encroach on his slime’s territory, only two… wait… three remained.
A clever little Majin somehow escaped the slaughter, but it was unlikely that they would be allowed to escape. No doubt Rimaru had a plan to-
Noir stopped, frozen in place as he felt the thrum of power from the Harvest Festival reverberate through the world. Rimuru shook, their evolutionary slumber threatening to overtake them. The Primordial seethed. His beloved slime did not deserve to slumber in a field of corpses with a majin on the loose! They should be back among their adoring subjects, pampered and protected.
“Ranga!”
The Tempest Star Wolf instantly came to the aid of his Master and Noir felt relief. By far, Ranga was his favorite of his slime’s subordinates, always by their side and never failing to be exactly where he needed to be. He didn’t question a single order from Rimuru, only asking how they intended to deal with the survivor.
“I’ll make them someone else’s problem…”
If Noir needed to breathe, he would have found himself holding it. His non-existent heart was pounding in his chest, his body brimming with excitement. With the last of their strength, Rimuru activated the Demon Summoning ritual, sacrificing every single body strewn across that battlefield to draw out a demon to do his bidding. The Primordial accepted the summoning the second it started, grabbing two of his older and obedient servants to accompany him.
“I have food for you!” Rimuru’s voice echoed as Noir passed through the barrier to the mortal realm. “Come out here, Demon! Prove you can be of use to me!”
~\~/~
All 20,000+ bodies were consumed in the time it took to blink, a testament to the eagerness of the Black Primordial. He took nearly all of the bodies for himself, only sparing a couple for the servants he had brought along with him. After all, they were there to serve a singular purpose, so there was no need to waste the precious, bountiful offering on their lowly bodies.
Upon manifesting himself in the glorious form gifted to him by his slime- nay, his Master, Noir couldn’t help but take a moment to revel in the power coursing through his veins. It was utterly perfect, brimming with magicules, and would last for a very long time. He couldn’t have been happier. His two servants simply knelt on either side of the Primordial, silently awaiting their orders.
“Alright, guys…” Rimuru was hovering just on the cusp of unconsciousness, their gelatinous form half-melted across Ranga’s face. Both of the Tempest Star Wolf’s horns were protruding through their body, perhaps the only thing keeping the half-conscious slime from dripping to the ground. “Someone’s hiding somewhere, pretending to be dead… bring them to Ranga here… alive…”
Noir was still admiring his body as Rimuru instructed Ranga to act as a liaison between the nation of monsters and the demons. Of course, he dared not allow his Master to think for even the briefest of moments that he was not paying attention. He let out a quiet laugh, flexing his fingers.
"How fantastic. Such a generous offering for my first job. I couldn’t be more honored. I’ll be sure to give it my all.” He hugged himself, shuddering in pure ecstasy. “Finally, I’ve waited so long for this!”
He gathered his power around him, the massive, bat-like wings he had cloaked himself in exploding into a million blackened stars. Slowly drifting down to the ground, Noir turns his black and gold eyes to gaze almost longingly at his new Master.
“Once this is over, perhaps you would deem me worthy of remaining by your side.” The Primordial knelt before the slime, a hand over his heart and his head lowered deferentially. Behind him, his two subordinates lowered themselves to the ground. “I would happily accept even the lowest position in your court.”
“We’ll talk later…” Rimuru mumbled, his slimy body turning a darker blue color as he began to slip into the Harvest Festival’s evolutionary sleep. “First I need you to prove that you can be useful… Now go.”
Noir felt a shudder run up his spine at his Master’s words, hoping that his wish and dream two years in the making would finally come to pass. With a wide smile, he raised his head just slightly.
“Of course, Master. This is but a simple task. Rest knowing I will personally deliver the one you seek directly to you.”
Rimuru said nothing, merely melting onto Ranga’s face as the Harvest Festival finally robbed them of their senses. With his orders clear, Noir stood up, gesturing to his servants to load the two surviving humans onto the back of the Tempest Star Wolf, remembering his Master’s desire for war prisoners.
“Take good care of our Master,” Noir told the loyal wolf. “We shall be along shortly.”
“Right,” Ranga declared with a nod before bolting back to Tempest at high speeds.
It was bittersweet, watching Ranga disappear into the woods with his new Master on his back, but Noir had an order to fulfill. He refused to fail during such an important moment, especially when his future as Rimuru’s subordinate was on the line.
“Now then, shall we begin?” he asked the two servants with him. “I expect nothing short of perfection in the execution of this task. It is the only way to show our Master our worth and earn their praises.”
~\~/~
Noir was almost disappointed with how easily the majin went down after he was discovered. A paltry magician who believed himself to wield the power to rival a Demon Lord simply because he stole the body of an otherworlder. His magic was powerful, Noir had to admit, given how his deflected Nuclear Cannon attack had instantly vaporized the harpy spying on him up above.
Still, he was a complete fool with nothing but stolen Unique Skills and a Superior Spirit that was far too young. Noir took great pleasure in the pure terror that washed over the majin’s face once he discovered the Primordial’s true identity, right up until they fainted. He chuckled at the unconscious majin, gesturing to the larger of his servants to take them.
“Our task is complete and the Harvest Festival is not even complete yet,” Noir noted, adjusting his necktie before straightening his coat. “Excellent. This means there is still time for you two to fulfill your purpose.”
Neither of his servants spoke a word as they all made their way to Tempest.
~\~/~
By the time the demons arrived before the triple barrier erected around their Master’s domain, the Evolution had reached its zenith. This was proven by the collapsed form of Ranga just outside of the barrier. Some lowly lycanthrope was watching over him, clearly worried about the Tempest Star Wolf, ignorant of what it meant. Noir decided to enlighten him.
“And so it begins. The Evolutionary slumber for all of my Master’s servants.” Immediately, the lycanthrope spun on its heels, eying the three demons in pure terror. It was utterly delicious, but antagonizing his Master’s allies would not endear him to his beloved slime. So, the Primordial gave a small bow. “There is no need to be afraid. I am not but a nameless demon in service to the new Demon Lord. My servants here are merely here as my aids, with barely a will of their own. We are of no threat to those under our Master’s protection.”
The lycanthrope seemed somewhat cowed by that and backed down, even if it did question the presence of the majin in their custody. It even suggested erecting a barrier to protect it from the high magicule count beyond the triple barrier. Noir didn’t see the point, wanting the pathetic mortal to suffer for the crimes Farmus had committed against his beloved Master.
In the end though, the entire exchange became moot as the entire barrier was consumed. Noir’s eyes sparkled with delight, recognizing Gluttony anywhere, and feeling just how much stronger it had become. He shuddered in anticipation.
“Oh Master…” he hugged himself. “How truly magnificent. There is no doubting your status as a Demon Lord.”
The lycanthrope was immediately running towards the center of town, shouting an order to remain at the edge of town. Noir let out a silent snort, amused that the mutt actually thought he would obey. He would only obey his Master, and if his beloved slime was already collecting the magicules for the Revival ritual, then he had to hurry.
~\~/~
Spacial Movement delivered the three demons directly into the center of Tempest, right at the edge of the great courtyard housing the bodies of the fallen citizens. Noir didn’t dare disturb a single one, knowing that doing so would no doubt earn him the wrath of his Master, and his subsequent banishment from their side. Still, he couldn’t help but marvel at everything.
His Master was standing tall in the center of the courtyard, their human form a bit more mature than they had been before. Where they once looked like a young human child just barely in their single-digit years, this form was that of an adolescent, perhaps even a young teenager. They wore only a white cloak wrapped around their form, and they were surrounded by the condensed magicules and souls of all of the deceased.
“My Master,” Noir greeted, dropping into a low bow. Behind him, his servants did the same, depositing the majin unceremoniously to the ground. “We have returned with the survivor, as you commanded. I offer my sincerest apologies for not obeying your command to deliver him to faithful Ranga, but he was already in the Evolutionary slumber when I arrived.”
His Master said nothing, merely turning towards him with bright, red eyes. They shined with an intelligence that was foreign to Noir, and when they spoke, a voice completely unlike that of Rimuru’s came out.
“Confirmed. Your task is now complete. The Commencement of the Ritual of Resurrection will now begin.”
The voice almost sounded like the Words of the World, but different somehow. Noir squirreled away that particular curiosity for another day, willing to explore it once he had ensured that his Master’s self-appointed quest was completed properly.
“Nothing would give me greater joy than to see you complete the Ritual, my Master. However, I cannot help but notice that you lack the appropriate magicule count for such a task. Of course, I am also certain you are well aware of this.”
Rimuru, whose face betrayed no emotion while in this strange, mid-evolution state, turned away slightly. “Confirmed. The magule count is insufficient. Substituting current life force to-”
“There is no need for such rash actions.” Noir just barely kept himself from shouting this. There was no way he could allow his beloved Master to sacrifice even a fraction of their life force for this. It was the entire reason he had brought along his servants after all. “As spiritual life forms, the essence of my servants would be a much better substitute. They are powerful Greater Demons and would no doubt fulfill the required magicule count.”
Both of Noir’s servants lowered themselves to the ground, their eyes closed as they awaited their Master’s decision. The Demonic slime looked them over, seemingly hesitating. Noir noticed and spoke up once more, having studied his Master long enough to have an idea of why they hesitated.
“You need not concern yourself with their lives, Master. For us, there is no greater honor than to be of use to you.”
This seemed to be exactly what needed to be said. “Confirmed. Necessary Magicule count is now obtainable. Implementing suggestion.” Rimuru lifted a single, unblemished hand. "Beelzebub!"
The awe-inspiring power of the evolved Ultimate Skill consumed the two demons in the time it took to blink. Noir felt their spiritual essence being absorbed, dispersed, and merged into the collection of souls, finally providing the power needed. Noir couldn’t help but feel envious for being able to become so intimate with his precious Master.
“Acquisition of necessary magicule count successful,” Rimuru declared. “Resuming the Ritual of Resurrection.”
Hearing this, Noir rose to his feet and stepped back, away from the bodies and his Master. His blackened eyes gleamed in delight as he watched a true miracle occur. One by one, the bodies strewn across the square were healed of their injuries, restored to utter perfection. Then, the new souls were gently lowered into their chests, white light engulfing each one of them until the souls settled.
The Primordial grinned, knowing without a doubt that every single body would be revived and that no matter what, he needed to become Rimuru’s servant. Even if it meant he would spend the rest of eternity as little more than a dog on a leash, he would bind himself to his Master and watch him change this world for all time.
Upon completing the Ritual, Rimuru immediately collapsed. Noir rushed to catch them but was caught by surprise when his Master transformed into a slime. Having been prepared to catch his Master’s human form, Rimuru regrettably fell to the ground. Still, Noir wasted no time bending down and picking up his Master, wrapping him gently in their robe before using spacial movement to place his Master upon the stone throne the denizens of Tempest had erected for their Master.
Yes, this was a much more worthy resting place for his Master. Once the denizens of the Monster Nation awoke from their various slumbers, Rimuru would be surrounded by their adoring subjects, receiving the proper attention they deserved. And Noir would be there, eager to see his Master rise as a true Demon Lord.
~\~/~
A party was in full swing, a celebration of the revival of Tempest’s citizens and Rimuru’s rise as a Demon Lord. Noir hung back for most of it, simply waiting until he would have a chance to speak to his Master alone. The last thing he wanted was to interrupt his beloved slime’s well-deserved celebration with his selfish requests, so he simply remained out of sight, his eyes never leaving his Master.
As night fell over Tempest, everything was winding down. Many of the citizens had returned to their homes while others simply passed out on the street. Watching them from a large tower overlooking everything was Rimuru, sipping on a mug of alcohol while relaxing. Wanting to be polite, Noir used Spacial Movement to appear behind his Master, keeping a respectful distance. Of course, his beloved slime almost immediately sensed him and glanced over their shoulder.
“Please pardon my intrusion,” Noir greeted, slipping into a polite bow. “I have merely come to offer my congratulations on your official promotion to Demon Lord.”
“Ah…. thanks…” Rimuru’s eyebrows furrowed a bit as they looked Noir up and down. “Do I know you?”
Noir choked on nothing, feeling his entire body seize up on him from the shock. He knew his Master had been out of it during the summoning ritual, but to forget him entirely? This had to be what heartbreak felt like.
“S-surely you jest, Milord. I know I am naught but a lowly demon, but I pray you at least remember summoning me to your aid.”
Rimuru still looked confused, at least until the furry head of Ranga slipped out of his Master’s shadow.
“This is one of the demons you summoned before the Harvest Festival, Master,” the faithful Starwolf explained. “The one who captured the survivor.”
Noir felt his heartache ease as recognition finally dawned on his Master. Truly, Ranga was by far Noir’s favorite of his slime’s followers.
“Oh, duh!” Rimuru conked themselves on the forehead. “Now I remember! Sorry about that. I always get fuzzy when I pass out.” Their eyebrows then furrowed again. “But… weren’t there three of you?”
“Not anymore,” Noir informed his Master. “They have served their purpose to you, and that is all that matters.”
“Right…” Rimuru then lifted his mug. “Well, sorry to keep you then. You’re free to go.”
The primordial felt something in him utterly shatter, pure, unadulterated despair washing over him. While being forgotten had been truly terrible, this… this was a nightmare. Fear, anguish, heartbreak, all of it welled up inside of him as he felt something wet roll down his cheek. Was… was he crying? He had never been given a body capable of such emotion, and even if he had, he’d never once experienced such a wretched slew of emotions.
“Please, Milord!” he sobbed, teleporting himself in front of his Master before prostrating himself before the only being worthy of his subservience. “Please do not send me away! I beg of you!”
“Wait… you… weren’t waiting for me to release you?”
“No, Milord.” Noir gasped slightly, forcing his emotions in check and wiping his face. “What I seek is not to be released, but to become one of your subordinates. I will happily accept even the lowest of positions in your court, working for nothing but the chance to bask in your greatness.”
Keeping his gaze on the ground before him, Noir waited for his Master to reach their decision. Never once had the Primordial considered praying, not that he would know who or what to pray to, but in that moment, he begged whatever force outranked him that his Master would say he could stay.
“Well… I suppose you are pretty strong, definitely more than a Greater Demon. Having someone like you as an ally would be beneficial. And I really don’t wanna risk someone summoning you and turning you loose on Tempest.”
“Even if I were to be summoned by another, I would sooner discorporate permanently than harm any of the beings under your command, Milord.” More likely Noir would simply slaughter the fools and banish himself, but the Primordial had been watching his precious slime long enough to know that this answer would not endear him to his Master.
“Well then,” Rimuru rose to their feet, holding out a hand, “I can’t deny that kind of dedication. Welcome to Tempest.”
Noir gasped, finally lifting his head and gazing happily up at his Master. He took the offered hand in both of his own, pressing it to his forehead. “You have my utmost gratitude, Milord. I will not disappoint you.”
The hand was gently removed from his grasp. “Can you drop the whole ‘Milord’ thing though? It weirds me out. If you’re as hard set on honorifics as everyone else is, you can just call me Lord Rimuru.”
Noir gave a small nod at that, his smile never waning. “As you wish, Lord Rimuru.”
“So, what do I call you? Someone as powerful as you has to have a name.”
“I have none,” Noir told him. Sure he was known as the Black Primordial or Noir, but those were not names. They were titles at best, ones he would happily shed and forget. “But you need not concern yourself with such frivolities. I am quite content to remain anonymous.”
“Really?” Lord Rimuru looked truly surprised. “Well, I’ve named literally everyone else I’ve taken in. It would be wrong if I didn’t name you as well, not to mention confusing. Do you mind?”
Noir was practically brimming with joy as he looked up at his Master. “Not in the slightest, Master! I humbly accept this most precious gift.”
“Great! Because I have the perfect name for you!” Lord Rimuru pointed a finger right at the Primordial, grinning triumphantly. “From this day forth, your name is Diablo!”
The second his new name left his Master’s lips, Diablo felt a surge of power surround him, beginning his evolution. For so long, the Primordial had elected not to become a Demon Peer, simply not seeing the point. But now, that power would belong to his Master, and he would use it to serve Lord Rimuru faithfully. He let the power surge through him, focusing on his desire to be the perfect servant. He didn’t need the royal refinery of a Primordial any longer. No, when the powerful cocoon finally opened, Diablo was draped in the finery of a proud butler, an eternal servant to his beloved Master.
“I am Diablo,” he declared, placing a hand over his heart before bowing. “From this day forward, I am your most humble servant.”