The two most prevalent scents there were that of alcohol and that of ‘discharge’, no doubt owing to the large amounts of spilt drinks caused by wanton drunkenness and the many prostitutes drawn in by the same.

Taking the third place in the ranking would no doubt be the salty scent of a man’s tears as he bet his life savings away to a single roulette…

If one were to put it particularly kindly, that city was the capital of depravity, the centre of desire, the holy land of corruption.

At the Heroes’ suggestion, several years ago, when it was merely a city with an unusually high number of gambling establishments, the city had been named Fortuna, but looking at it now, that was nought more than a cruel trick of fate.

The city where men went to lose their lives and rationality and drown in pleasure.

Amongst the many visitors of this city, between the disgusting rich who had more money than they knew what to do with and the hopeless poor who chose pleasure over life, there currently happened to be more people than usual…

Since, earlier that week, a group of men dressed in black had arrived.

The Black Ravens. An “adventuring party” consisting of more than threescore men, who clearly spent more time indulging in crime and life’s pleasures than fighting monsters and helping people.

They had gotten unreasonably kicked around by some young lady of a noble house who was far too strong for her miserable size, so this was, in essence, a vacation of sorts, to “the eastern gambling paradise, Fortuna”.

And yet,

And yet,

And yet,

Going there was quite possibly the worst decision they could’ve made.

From the capital, there was some kind of missive, accompanied by a sudden influx of Heroes…

And, not a moment later, a massive magical circle of origins unknown spread out around the city, entrapping all who happened to be inside at the time.

The eastern-most point of the Hexagram. The second location to be sacrificed to pave the way for His arrival.

With a disgusting sound like breaking glass, a ‘crack’ formed in the sky. From beyond it spilt forth despicable energies, painting the air black…

And, in addition, a drop of thick liquid, refracting light in every colour of the rainbow, with within it suspended a uniform…?

Swiftly, the drop of liquid revealed its true form as it took on a humanoid shape, draping the uniform around itself, a black stole hanging from its shoulders.

A slime?

Nothing seemed to be coming after it… Had the demon king only sent a slime here, figuring this city would be undefended?

Thinking so, one member of the Black Ravens rushed forth, intent on claiming the loot and gold likely to be given to whoever defeated the demon king’s lackeys.

But one of his friends… the party’s de facto leader, Keith, recognised this kind of aura, and thus, crying out in a panic, he reached forward—

But he was unable to prevent his friend from striking at the slime’s torso with his sword.

It cut into the slime like a spoon into jello, slicing a neat cut into the slime’s light grey uniform, but it got stuck about halfway through, right at the spot her navel would be.

Curiously, she tilted her head to the side.

“A volunteer? Okay!”

With a cheerful grin, the slime spread her arms out and, using her semisolid body to her advantage, she quickly wrapped the man up in a tight hug.

“Huh…?”

He quickly realised this was no mere hug. She was slithering under his clothes, enveloping him in sticky, tingling slime, not to mention pulling him tighter and tighter into the open front of her uniform…

The other humans present could only watch in horror as the man was pulled into the slime’s body and melted down, ‘til not even his bones were left to float inside her. Looking closely, the neat cut in her uniform was already gone.

Then, she turned her attention back to the city.

“Uhm… Ahem.”

She cleared her throat… the action itself was obviously unnecessary, given she had just demonstrated that whatever was stuck in her throat could simply have been melted down with terrifying ease, but perhaps it was for attracting their attention to what she was about to say.

With a giddy expression, she opened her mouth—

“I am the fifth Apostle of the Demon King, Miracle Slime Navillus! As a representative of the Demon King, hallowed be His name, I hereby declare your deaths for the sake of this world!”

And without a shred of hesitation, she announced her race, name, and the death of everyone present other than herself.

As the name would imply, a Miracle Slime was truly capable of ridiculous, absurd, unbelievable things.

Within the blink of an eye, the city was enveloped in chaos. Deep, deep chaos, that painted one’s mind with the greatest of despair.

An entire section was underwater. Another was on fire. A raging tornado howled, and rocks fell from the sky—

“Don’t tell me… that thing can use every attribute…?!”

In blatant violation of magical rules, not only was the slime casting multiple spells simultaneously, rather than rapid-fire one after another, they were of a variety of attributes.

Indeed, the combination of skills required to pull this off was nothing short of a miracle.

But, then, she was named after that very thing.

Able to invoke miracles at will, a Miracle Slime. Born of a miraculous combination of circumstances, which had now brought her the greatest of happiness.

“Ah… Ahahahahaha… Ahahahahahahahahahahahaha…!”

She couldn’t contain herself. Soon, she was laughing like a madwoman as she launched spell after spell and simply absorbed any spells and combatants that came her way.

“That won’t work… That won’t work, that won’t work, that won’t work…! Isn’t it obvious that something like that is useless?!”

Not only had she gained a large amount of intelligence lately, she had also changed, and rather radically at that.

Where she had had hints of a blatant disregard for life before, her latest evolution at her Lord’s hands had pushed her completely beyond the brink. She laughed and laughed, her heart overtaken by joy.

“Ghk… Is there nothing we can…?!”

Keith found himself pleading for the impossible to happen. For a shining light, to break through this stalemate. Salvation. Someone to save him.

Indeed, what he was praying for to a god he didn’t even like was, without a sliver of a doubt—

“Oh, please, give me a miracle…”

“A miracle? Glady!”

When had she gotten this close—?! She was right behind him———

With a single embrace, she turned Keith into a pile of murky drek, and then, pulling open her mouth once more and drawing the ceremonial dagger at her waist to call over her part of the Obsidian-stained castle, she started singing—

“Ah, my beloved bluebird. Thy feathers, like the sea and the sky, are o so beautiful.

And yet, why? Why must thee be hunted so? ‘Tis unfair, ‘tis unreasonable.”

Her every syllable resounded with pure, unadulterated madness. The atmosphere coming off of her was so heavy it was palpable, and slowly, it formed into a world of its own.

Immense, unbearable pain emanated from the inside of her body, the very power of her Stigmata searing away her ability to think reasonably.

“May thy feathers shine, may thy voice carry across the oceans themselves.

Thou art truly so beautiful I would ask thee to remain, by my side, forever and for eternity.”

The family which had, in the truest sense of the word, created her. Her craving to be with them, forever, never to let anything get in the way.

The warped nature of her world came to light.

“All that would get in thy way is nought but trash, garbage, worthless nothings to be disposed of.

I would not have thee sully thy hands, o bluebird. That duty alone I shall take from thee.”

The ultimate end of everything that got in her way. What she did not desire had no place in this world, or rather, it had never had a place in this world to begin with.

For the sake of her bluebird, she would endure any amount of pain. Any amount of suffering. Any amount of despair.

“Ah, world, if thee would cage my beloved birdie, then all that needs be done is for thee to end.

My beloved bluebird, I would not ask thee to sully thy hands, but please, allow me to clear thy path of rubbish.”

Finally, she turned her attention back to her Lord, praying for His grace. The power only He could grant her.

She beseeched Him to allow her craving to manifest.

“Amen.

As the Apostle of Indiscriminacy, I invoke—

Stigmata of Growth—

Manifest, my Craving -

Angra Mainyu—

Demon God of Death

Daeva Asto-vidatu—

Doomsday Ruination!”

What little remained of Keith was obliterated, utterly and completely, by the black aura coming off of the iridescent slime’s body.

The ultimate, irrevocable destruction of all that stood in her way. Nothing would be left standing. Nothing would be allowed to block her path.

Everything around her crumbled to dust, unmade by the power of her craving. As if it had never existed to begin with.

The only thing that was spared was the people’s souls, sucked into the Hexagram to serve as a sacrifice—all else was returned to less than it had ever been.

Death. Death, death, death, death, death.

Death to all who stood in her way. Death to all who blocked her path. Death to anything and everything that wanted to rob her of her precious bluebird.

Death, death, death, death, death!

Clad in an aura that killed everything she even so much as looked at and her entire body wracked with unbearable pain, the slime turned her gaze back to the crowd of Heroes, who had long since dwindled in numbers.

In a blind panic, they rushed forward and attacked.

Their swords, to dust. Their spells, to sparks. Their fists, to scraps of bone and flesh. Their lives, to fodder. Their souls, to sacrifices.

After a moment of thinking to herself, the slime once more launched an attack of her own.

A defensive-type Hero raised his shield, thinking he would block the attack—

But, shield and all, his entire existence was completely pulverized.

The ultimate one-shot kill. Even the tiniest of hits, no matter how grazing, would absolutely obliterate anything it struck.

An attack imbued with the very element of destruction, of nothingness, to remove everything she felt undesirable from the world and leave only her bluebird and everything related.

If the world would cage her bluebird, all she needed to do was destroy the world with this assault of hers.

Her power allowed no denial. Before her all-devouring craving, nothing would be left standing.

The Black Ravens.

The Heroes.

The city guard, pitiful as they may have been, with how occupied they already were.

The city’s many gamblers and prostitutes.

The city’s houses, buildings and walls, down to the very last brick.

Everything, without exception, was destroyed.

Due to the very nature of her craving, counterattack was impossible. Anything that struck her would simply be annihilated.

The only thing left, at the very end, were a slime suffering intense pain and the filled Hexagram, drunk on sacrifices.