Chapter 69
Chapter 69
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 69
Chapter Title: In the Name of ...Love?
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Poison bait is surprisingly easy to make.
Aside from a few magic-type slimes, their status ailment resistance is utter garbage.
On par with Wolfram's stamina, even. These things are ridiculously susceptible to debuffs.
To be precise... 'All slimes with special traits, excluding magic slimes, have glaring weaknesses.'
In simple terms: fire slimes are weak to water, water slimes to electricity... that sort of thing. Your standard fodder mob A.
The wobbly blob that greets you right at the entrance of any map or dungeon, no matter where you go. That's a slime for you.
"I see. So each slime has a clear weakness. Is that what you're saying?"
"Exactly."
The problem is, even that knowledge hasn't spread properly in this world.
And it's all the Loengrin Empire's fault.
There was a party character who said something like that back in the day.
Hmm, a mid-game mage character... who was it again?
Anyway, that line stuck with me.
'Suppress the nobles' private armies, strengthen imperial authority, keep the aristocracy in check, and even turn monsters into tools for imperial power—this vile imperial family must be overthrown to establish a just society!'
I'm not harboring any dangerous ideologies like that, but separately from that, the current Loengrin Empire has imperial authority even more inflated than before.
"Hmm. So if we believe that and spray their weakness as poison, that should do it?"
"No, that would be too tricky to spread around."
It's not a bad method, but we need other approaches too.
"Ah, luring them is the issue."
"Precisely."
Yeah. The problem is slime bait. In other words, we need a way to draw them in en masse and wipe them out at once.
And that's not hard at all.
"Just the slimes in the entire mine alone could number in the millions if we're not careful."
"Sounds doable."
"Y-Yes? Uh, really?"
No, seriously.
Strip away the bravado—it's feasible.
"Rudika. Time to work."
"Mm. Rudika work!"
And with that, I glanced at the wolf lounging nearby, yawning lazily.
"Patrasche. Your turn to work too."
At my words, Patrasche lifted a front paw, pointing at itself—as if to say, Me? For real?
Yes.
You.
That's right, so hurry up and come along.
Slimes have 'clan recognition' and 'aggro linking'—if one gets attacked, nearby slimes get pulled in too.
"What a pain of an attack pattern."
"...Yes. That's why the miners can't even enter the mine."
So they come swarming like, 'Did you hit our kid?' And that's when the real ordeal begins.
As I said, slimes multiply if you don't one-shot their core. And they fight for their kin.
Which is why slime dungeon parties are built around critical hits or AoE magic teams as standard.
That's the reason for teaming up with Rudika. Her willpower and skill are off the charts, so most of her attacks crit. Incredible. Amazing.
"Rudika. Ready?"
"......"
But right now, I was giving her a different order.
"Don't stab the vital spot. Absolutely."
"......"
A single black slime trembled before Rudika.
It was one I'd sneaked out of the mine without injuring.
I'd instructed Rudika to carve it up as much as possible without touching the core.
And without a word, Rudika started slicing the slime to ribbons.
Wow, look at that clean handiwork. She's filleting it around the core perfectly.
Never mess with her. That escape artistry is no joke.
Soon the slime shuddered violently, and I nodded to Patrasche.
"Alright, Patrasche. Begin."
"...Grrrrr."
Patrasche immediately set to work as instructed.
Engraving something onto a mana stone with telekinesis.
This is how it's made.
The bait.
The ultimate bait, no less.
Slimes emit a subtle pulse when they multiply.
That's their ally-summoning pattern.
"Whoa... incredible. How did you even think of that?"
"It's not that impressive."
Patrasche, who can wield telekinesis, etches the slime's pattern onto the mana stone.
Now the slimes will perceive this mana stone as an attacked ally.
"...Alright, Rudika. Feed that slime the poison bait and finish it off."
"......"
Rudika nodded faintly, her expression blankly transparent.
Soon, the mine slime twitched and died after consuming the poison bait.
Even after being shredded head to toe and then poisoned, Rudika's eyes remained utterly clear.
She turns ice-cold when she's in work mode. Truly something else.
"Alright, is the pit ready?"
"...Y-Yes. It's all set up big."
With the mine at a standstill, I'd had the idle miners dig a pit and toss in the poisoned, dead slime.
Okay. Time to start.
"Something gross is about to happen. Bear with it if your stomach turns."
"I-It's fine."
I nodded.
The method is simple.
Throw the poisoned, dead slime into the pit.
Then place Patrasche's telekinetically engraved 'mana stone emitting the clan-summoning pattern' beyond the pit and amplify it.
And now...
"Oh...... Hot."
"Mm. Ungh."
Rumble. Rumble. RUMBLERUMBLERUMBLE!! Thud. Boom.
From the mine, an insane number of mine slimes surged toward the pit, detecting their kin in peril.
The sheer volume was staggering—enough to make anyone freak out.
How many? Enough that even Rudika, mid-assassination work, let out a moan.
The slimes plummeted into the pit, assessed the situation upon landing, realized no enemy was present, dropped combat mode... and then devoured the poisoned corpse.
Ingesting the poison damage anew.
The damaged slimes emit a mana pulse crying invasion, drawing more slimes from the mine to descend, eat the corpses, become corpses themselves, emit pulses drawing more... eat corpses, become corpses...
This endless cycle of death created an infinite slime disposal factory.
"...W-Wolfram."
"......Mm."
I said nothing.
Brown slimes slumped and spread, only for more to pile on, forming a land-covering mass of brown sludge. I said nothing.
The visuals were revolting, but it hit me—they were all once alive, now unmade.
It was a famous slime run strat in the game. Worked like a charm.
"Mm. It reminds me of a game."
"...What was that, Wolfram?"
I just shrugged.
"...Such slaughter. Such sin. The massacre's Wolfram. You bear sins like mine... no, greater still... my friend. Then."
Rudika bowed her head deeply, murmuring something unintelligible.
Her native tongue?
"Sorry. I only know Loengrin common tongue."
"No, it's nothing. I just thought you could be good friends with Rudika. Lifelong friends."
Come to think of it, Rudika.
I'm curious—if you're using words like 'friend,' why the awkward speech pattern?
"Mm. Rudika thinks so too."
"Right?"
I wanted to ask but held back.
It felt too dangerous.
The good news Wolfram and Count Glass brought spread through the family estate like wildfire.
The mansion buzzed with excitement, everyone praising Wolfram's wisdom.
And that tale reignited the flames in a girl's heart, swollen with dreams and ambitions.
'Wait for me.'
Spica had felt a tiny—truly tiny—spark of resentment at Wolfram von Loengrin's words at first.
I could help too!
But Wolfram von Loengrin was talent far beyond Spica Trista's domain, impossibly so.
Luring and exterminating all those slimes at once, clearing the mine.
'Wait' truly meant he had no need of her help.
That only made her more curious.
So Spica sought out the one who might become her rival.
"S-Sis."
"Hm? What's up?"
"Um, I have one thing I want to ask."
"Shoot. Hehe. What's got Spica curious?"
Aila Trista.
The potential rival!
"About the man who's going to be your husband... I want to hear how he's changed."
"Oh? Ah, Wolfram? Sure. Come here."
"Ehehe. Okay."
Spica clenched her fist tight. She couldn't relax her stomach-churning, twisting hand.
She was 14 this year too. Jefrin enrollment next year.
Yet to her older sister, just a few years her senior, she was still a kid. A little aegyo and she spills everything.
'...Sorry, Sis. But I don't want to let go of these feelings!'
For that, she'd even play cute with her sister!
"Let me see... When he got stripped of the student council presidency, he moved into a building I owned. Naturally, I thought he'd come relying on me and was disappointed. He had zero support base, after all."
"Ah..."
"But that wasn't it. His eyes burned with a fire I'd never seen—like he aimed to put the whole world under his feet. That's where it started. Those eyes were beautifully ablaze."
The tales of Wolfram that followed were unbelievable.
In summary:
'Made snacks to win over grad students and freshmen indifferent to him, turning them into supporters.'
'Maintained moderate relations with his student council president little sister. Iron-willed, never revealing his true thoughts even before the usurper.'
'Not just that—recently joined expeditions, turned friendly even with those who took his seat, showing the gap in their caliber.'
'Breathed dreams into the stodgy, useless old professors, earning their high praise.'
'Revolutionized combat rations with Magical Sweets buff snacks. A battlefield game-changer.'
'Gets along great with commoner and low-noble underclassmen, values skill over status.'
'Has the most external expedition experience at Jefrin—his monster knowledge is world-class.'
'Surrounding allies are top-tier: heir to the South's premier assassin clan. Reluctant to admit, but little sis is the best mage. Trusted knight division underclassman. Even raises a cute pink chick.'
'Excels at talent nurturing—turns dropouts into class toppers.'
'Rumored to have proposed trains and rails, vowing a trade network linking the entire Loengrin Empire.'
'Didn't neglect studies—topped several subjects.'
Aila recited the saga of rebel pinnacle Wolfram von Loengrin breathlessly, face flushed, while Spica's eyes went wide.
"...H-He... Lord Wolfram? No, Brother Wolfram did all that?"
"...Yes. That's right."
Spica clutched her chest.
"I-I thought the imperial family was just vile people who suppress nobles' private armies, bolster their own power, check the aristocracy, and use even monsters as tools for authority."
"I see. But... Wolfram."
"Yes. He's not like that. Truly, the one to bring winds of all change."
"...Yeah. Rebellion."
Aila swallowed hard, spitting it out.
"Truly. Rebellion."
'No. Revolution.'
Spica thought it inwardly but wisely kept silent.
This wasn't the time for the 841st rebellion vs. revolution ideology clash.
"Um, Sis. Anyway, any other stories?"
"Ehe. This one's embarrassing, but I'll tell you. The first time I met Wolfram at age 8. I was crying in the garden when..."
And so the night deepened for the affectionate sisters.