Chapter 460: Morning of the Empire

Two days later, in the morning.

Even without a visible sun, the entire Darkness City had already stirred back to life in the faint glow of bioluminescence.

Steam billowed from the bakery's ovens, the blacksmith's hammer rang out against the morning stillness in steady rhythm, and a few early-rising little slimes huddled around the milk pail on the street corner, queuing patiently for the shopkeeper to ladle a scoop of steaming hot milk into their wooden bowls.

Occasionally, slime guards patrolling atop iron-armored beetles would amble slowly through the middle of the street, the empire's emblem on their chests glinting in the fluorescent light.

Beast mage Beorne sat at a window-side table in the restaurant, a plate of steaming hot night-mushroom gratin noodles before him.

The noodles were made from white wheat, an empire specialty said to originate from the White Horse Kingdom—rolled thin and chewy, tossed in a thick mushroom sauce, topped with a layer of lightly charred cheese, its edges still sizzling with bubbling oil.

The night mushrooms, meanwhile, were foraged from the night forest surrounding Darkness City, growing only on moonless nights, so whether stewed or baked, they carried a freshness that seemed to have captured moonlight and dew.

He twirled a bundle of noodles onto his fork and brought it to his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. The flavor was neither too salty nor too bland, perfectly drawing out the natural sweetness of the mushrooms.

He picked up the clay cup beside him and took a sip of draft animal milk.

The taste was rich and creamy, carrying a hint of wildness, the lukewarm liquid sliding down his throat and warming him from stomach to fingertips.

An utterly unremarkable breakfast.

But Beorne hadn't enjoyed such an unremarkable breakfast in a very long time.

Back in Dawn City, he was buried in council debates and spell experiments nearly every day, often not remembering he hadn't eaten until well past noon.

Sometimes he'd grab a bite of dry bread, or simply tough it out on an empty stomach until evening, and only when hunger finally reminded him late at night would he head to the canteen for some cold leftover stew.

He chewed slowly on the noodles, savoring this simple, solid contentment.

Most of the people in the restaurant were humans.

A few merchants eating together discussed last night's market prices in low voices, while two or three young adventurers with packs spread a map out in the corner, tracing paths with their fingers.

But they all sat noticeably farther away from Beorne—the space around him was completely empty.

Beorne was used to it.

Back in Dawn City, he'd received the same treatment.

Even with his scholar's spectacles and his plainest mage's robe, to many mages he still seemed as terrifying as a beast wearing clothes.

Many unfamiliar mages would instinctively grip their staves the moment they laid eyes on him, suspicion written all over their faces, as if he might snap at any moment and lunge forward to tear out someone's throat.

But here, there was a subtle difference.

A slime attendant riding a beetle came trotting over.

This slime wore a neat little white cap on its head, a light-colored apron tied across its chest, looking full of energy.

It hopped down from the beetle and used a gel hand to place a steaming bowl of mashed tubers in front of Beorne.

"Guest, please enjoy!"

Its voice was cheerful and brisk, its small round eyes curved into little crescent moons, clearly relishing the start of this new day.

Beorne looked down at it and curled his lips into a slight smile.

"Oh, thank you."

This was what made the empire feel different from the Council.

This little slime brought him food as naturally as if he were simply a hungry traveler.

No trembling fear, no wary distance—just genuine cheerfulness.

Here, he didn't seem like such an outsider anymore.

The feeling was strange.

He had lived in Dawn City for so many years, yet he'd always felt separated from that city of towering spires by a thin pane of glass.

And in a nation founded by slimes, he had instead found, for the first time, a sense of acceptance.

So far, his impression of this fledgling empire was quite favorable.

After the slime attendant left, he lowered his head, twirled another bundle of white wheat noodles onto his fork, and chewed delicately, finishing the noodles and mashed tubers on his plate one bite at a time, then draining the last of the draft animal milk.

He set down his fork, dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin, and pulled a few copper coins from his pocket, placing them on the table.

This was his last breakfast in Darkness City.

In the afternoon, he would set out for the empire's eastern territories.

He'd heard the scenery there was completely different from the western frontier—plains and vineyards, with residents renowned for their warm hospitality.

He hoped it would be as harmonious there as it was here.

He rose, pushed his chair gently back under the table, and offered a smile to the demi-human woman behind the restaurant counter.

The proprietress, who had a pair of gray cat ears, smiled and nodded back at him, saying in accented Common Tongue, "Safe travels."

He pulled open the restaurant's wooden door and stepped out into the morning glow.

He checked out of his room at the inn, packed his simple luggage, and found a merchant caravan heading east at the post station by the city gate.

The caravan's leader was a dwarf with a thick, bushy beard. He was momentarily taken aback at the sight of Beorne, but quickly and warmly invited him onto the wagon, even pressing a flask of warm wine into his hands.

Beorne sat among cargo-laden carts, swaying gently with the jostling of the wheels.

The caravan slowly rolled out through the city gate, passed the boulevard lined with glowing night willows, and left Darkness City behind.

After who knows how long, a magical messenger suddenly flew in from afar.

The messenger circled around him twice, then dissolved into specks of light, and a letter drifted down into his hands.

He glanced at the signature—Shane Graham.

This was the student who had left the inspection team with him, then gone off on his own to investigate the empire's western frontier.

Counting the time, it was about right for a reply.

News traveled faster across the empire than messengers did—the war that had erupted in the western frontier had spread throughout the entire empire almost by the next day. He guessed Shane's letter was probably meant to give him a detailed account of what had happened in the west.

He leaned back against the cargo, tore open the envelope, and unfolded the densely written pages.

Dear Mentor Clayton:

As I mentioned in my last letter, I'm currently staying in a town called Oakwood on the empire's border.

The town isn't large, but it's far livelier than I ever imagined.

The Dark Realm lies to the east, the Golden Radiance Valley to the west, and this town sits right at the crossroads of all east-west travel.

At the town center stands a remarkably ancient oak tree, said to have been there since the town was founded, regarded by the locals as a guardian tree. Adventurers often sit in a circle beneath it playing cards.

There are several taverns in town, and the liveliest one, the Drunken Oak, is packed every night. Adventurers from north and south sit together, drinking and swapping tall tales from their journeys.

There are hunters just returning laden from the Golden Radiance Valley, travel-worn merchants, and occasionally a few elven rangers passing through on reindeer, grabbing supplies before hurrying off.

Most of the residents here are retired adventurers—rugged yet simple folk, giving the town a unique frontier charm.

Unfortunately, my luck seems to have been less than ideal. On the third day after my arrival, I was caught up in an attack.

But please believe me—though news travels faster than messengers across the empire, you simply cannot imagine what I witnessed in this war.

Floating fortresses.

Like the moving castles of legend, the empire actually has three of them in total.

This proves the empire must possess some technique for mass-producing such magical constructs.

Even more astonishing was the slime legion.

Even the most ordinary slime warriors are Silver rank, and they have countless variants I've never seen before.

Rock Slimes, Magma Slimes, Grass Slimes... their coordination with one another is breathtakingly exquisite.

But what baffled me most was that they had War Treants—twenty Gold-rank ancient trees in total.

I counted repeatedly—twenty, not one fewer, each emanating an ancient aura of life.

This reminds me of rumors in the chronicles. If those records aren't fiction, then the Slime United Empire, even if not elven orthodox, must share some deep connection with elves.

I'm quite interested in this matter and plan to seek out some half-elves within the empire to visit.

I'll be passing through the Dryad domain along the way, so I might pay a visit there as well.

I hear the swamp gets quite damp after spring arrives, and I'm not sure how passable the roads will be, but I've made up my mind—I'm heading north.

Don't worry about me. I'll write to you every day to report on my safety.

Additionally, I've documented a miraculous slime variant that has only ever been displayed by the Slime Emperor himself.

Beorne flipped the letter over and continued reading.

Elemental Slime.

A suspected new variant possessing all elemental affinities and all elemental exemptions, capable of greatly diminishing enemy spell power while flexibly utilizing various elemental properties.

It appears able to simultaneously command powers of flame-quenching, frost, lightning, rock, life, and other attributes, while being immune to all elemental damage.

Extremely high threat level as a magical creature.

But it seems no wild slime can achieve this form.

Thankfully, this power rests in the hands of civilization rather than savage wilderness monsters. Otherwise... perhaps the north would face a calamity of magical creatures as well.

Beorne set down the letter, squinted his eyes, and gazed at the fluorescent fields flashing past outside the wagon window, his expression thoughtful.

Elemental Slime?

He mused that once this news reached Dawn City in the south, the Council would probably convene for at least several months of meetings over it.

The councilors would likely argue for months in the Meeting Hall, red-faced and heated, without reaching any conclusion.

But none of that concerned him anymore.

He was merely a traveler now, nothing more.

He folded the letter, tucked it into his coat, and turned to look in the direction the wagon was heading. In the distance, he could see a road blazing with lights stretching toward the end of the darkness.

Slime City Palace.

Morning sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting golden patches of light across the floor.

The temperature today had warmed considerably compared to the past few days. On the bare oak tree outside the window, faint green buds could be seen poking out from the branch tips.

A spring breeze drifted through, carrying the damp breath of thawing soil.

Spring might be returning.

Chen Yu was sprawled at the great oak table in the main hall, enjoying his breakfast.

A dozen delicate plates of pastries lined the table—fluffy chiffon cake, honey-glazed grilled scones, a small bowl of fresh berries, and a steaming cup of herbal tea.

He used a gel hand to scoop up a slice of chiffon cake bigger than himself and swallowed it in one gulp, his entire gel body puffing up into a round, bloated ball.

Just then, footsteps echoed from the entrance of the hall.

A figure strolled in at a leisurely pace.

Silvery-white hair gleamed with a soft luster in the morning light, and the hem of a silver gown trailed across the floor, swaying gently with each step like flowing water woven from moonlight.

Olivia had returned from the east.

She began teasing even before she reached the door: "Your Majesty, how relaxed you look. I flew all the way back without even stopping to catch my breath."

"Do you think you could grant me some time off?"

Chen Yu swallowed his cake and patted the seat beside him with a gel hand. "Since you're here, sit down and have something to eat first."

Olivia glanced at the cake on the table, then sat down without ceremony.

"Then I won't stand on ceremony."

She picked up a scone, elegantly tore off a small piece, and brought it to her mouth, her eyes narrowing slightly with satisfaction, looking like a squirrel clutching a pinecone—content and utterly at ease.

Chen Yu swallowed another grilled scone, his belly bulging, and asked, "How did things go at Misty Bay Harbor?"

"Handled, I suppose," she replied vaguely, still chewing on her scone.

"What do you mean, 'suppose'?" Chen Yu shook his gel body in exasperation.

Olivia shrugged, looking innocent. "That little one called Gawain Slime is quite capable. It's already taken care of everything."

"The situation is basically under control. It had already arrested those nobles with the guards before I even needed to lift a finger."

She set down the scone and continued unhurriedly, "Fortunately, there weren't many residents in the district that day. Most of the losses were just buildings, though the harbor is about half destroyed. It'll affect trade and shipping."

"Of course, all of this is the demons' fault for not knowing when to stop. I made sure to avoid the empire's assets."

She certainly wouldn't mention that it was actually the demons chasing her all the way to the harbor that had destroyed half the docks.

Chen Yu sensed there was more to her words than she was letting on, but he didn't pay it much mind.

Olivia picked up her teacup and took a sip, then suddenly remembered something and set it down.

"Your Majesty, this is your tea. Oh, my apologies."

But then she thought about it—she'd already taken a sip, so she took another. "That's not the important part. That little one asked me to ask you: how should these nobles be dealt with?"

"The ringleader is an old-school noble named Milo Fletcher. Though he seemed to be planning to escape by ship at the time, but then a demon sank his vessel. As for now... he's probably already fed the fish in the sea."

"As for the other nobles involved in the rebellion, they've all been arrested and locked up in the dungeons at Misty Bay Harbor, awaiting your judgment."

Chen Yu waved a gel hand dismissively. "Send them to the Icefield to dig potatoes. Semiaya could use some farmers over there."

"Very well." Olivia shrugged, showing little interest in the nobles' fates.

Her expression suddenly turned serious. "But, Your Majesty... who exactly is our enemy?"

Chen Yu fell silent for a moment, then recounted his discoveries in the western frontier to Olivia in full detail.

After listening, Olivia furrowed her brow.

"A death deity connected to giants?"

"This information is important." She looked up at Chen Yu. "Have you told Grandpa Oros?"

"I did." Chen Yu wobbled his gel body. "After that old man received my message, he got all mysterious and said he needed to return to the Astral Realm. No idea what he's planning."

"He probably has his reasons," Olivia said thoughtfully.

"So, what are your plans now?" Chen Yu asked.

Olivia thought for a moment, then set down her teacup. "I want to go back into that world."

"There's too much left in my bloodline that I haven't fully sorted through yet. I need to organize it properly."

"And while I'm at it, I'll cultivate that All-Through Dao you mentioned, Your Majesty. Maybe I'll find something useful."

"Alright." Chen Yu nodded and didn't press further.

When breakfast ended, he watched Olivia's figure dissolve into a stream of light and merge into his sea of consciousness.

Chen Yu hopped down from the table and jumped onto the Throne, flopping down limply.

On the surface, he seemed to be lazily soaking up the sun, but his mind had already sunk deep into the Tree King avatar.

The Tree King dream.

Sophie was still clacking her spider legs in patrol, ensuring no one came near.

In just a few days, the World Tree sapling had grown remarkably tall—about three times his height now.

This was thanks to the World Tree seeds he'd discovered on that demon mage.

He'd figured it out—after the World Tree in a Bottle had dispersed back then, even though all their enemies had perished, they'd obtained most of the World Tree seeds.

These seeds could supplement the world's laws and promote the growth of the Tree King avatar.

If he wanted this demigod avatar to mature faster, he'd need to acquire more remnant law seeds from those hostile deity systems.

But the residual forces hiding behind the giants and demons wouldn't give up easily.

Kroger had escaped, but he hadn't managed to take the Totem Ice Pillar, so they would certainly return.

The next time they came, they might bring far more troublesome opponents.

Since they wanted to meddle in the Shadow Mountains...

That was where the Shadow Dragon's divine kingdom had fallen, and the Shadow Scions were fighting over the Shadow Dragon's legacy among the ruins.

If outsiders wanted to interfere in that region, they'd need to find a cooperative pawn among the Shadow Scions.

Perhaps the Empire could try sponsoring a Shadow Scion as well.

But who would be the best choice?

He thought of an old friend.