The Archetype | Rimuru Tempest x TBATE

"You showed up an awfully convenient time," Arthur said beside me after I healed the party leader—Brald Landon. I paused for a moment and stood up, telling Raphael to make the preparations for the portal back to Xyrus.

"You think I schemed it?" I asked him.

"Not so much like that, no. It's just unsettling."

"Well, coincidences can be quite freaky, can't they?"

The rest of them who were alive sat down and began to consume the food and water I pulled out of my void space. It's been two hours since I killed the S-rank Elderwood Guardian, but the team wasn't in the best of shapes still. Even though I would be bringing us back by teleportation, it still didn't feel right to bring them back while heavily injured and exhausted.

Gluttonous sounds emanated from Jasmine as she hungrily devoured the meal I gave her down to the last speck. Even consuming a whole pot of water in one go didn't faze her as she just heaved a huge sigh of relief. She noticed me looking at her and just smiled gratefully. I returned her smile with a slight nod before turning my attention back to Arthur, who seemed restless despite the reprieve. His eyes scanned the cavern as if expecting something—or someone—else to emerge from the shadows.

"You're awfully on edge," I said, sitting down beside him.

Arthur gave me a sidelong glance, then shrugged. "I've seen too many clean endings go bad. Call it paranoia."

"Or experience," I added, watching as the flames of our makeshift campfire danced. "Still, no signs of movement since I incinerated that thing. It's dead, Arthur. Relax. I have the beast core, remember?"

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and rubbed the back of his neck. "You say that, but with you, there's always something bigger looming, isn't there? You don't strike me as the kind of guy who deals in small problems."

I simply smiled. He wasn't wrong.

Jasmine joined us, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Arthur's just bitter because you made it look too easy," she teased with that same stoic face of hers. "I've never seen that thing take more than a scratch before you arrived, and you just—poof." She mimed an explosion with her hands.

"Those black flames are a cheat," Arthur muttered, but the faintest curve of his lips betrayed his attempt at humor.

"It's a cheat because I'm the one using it, and you're alive because of it," I replied, leaning back against the cavern wall. "And because I showed up when I did."

"You're not wrong," he admitted quietly. "But you can't blame a guy for wondering what someone like you is doing out here in the first place."

"A guy called Erwin practically begged me," I said, waving a hand dismissively.

"And you just… agreed?"

I didn't respond to Arthur's question and just smiled at him.

Jasmine chuckled. "Well, I'm not complaining. You've got this… knack for showing up when everything's falling apart. It's almost creepy."

"I get that a lot," I replied dryly, standing up and brushing imaginary dust off my coat. I turned my gaze to Elijah who was still finishing his meal, to Samantha who waved at me, to Brald, who was drinking water, and finally…

"Let's have a chat, Wykes," I said as I stood before him. He still sat down on a log far away from the rest, and he held his head low. Not with guilt, but to stay off my radar probably.

"…What?"

"Did you honestly think I was done with you?"

Without hesitation—and without care that he's just past ten years old—I gripped his neck and lifted him off the ground. Arthur and Jasmine stood up, alarmed with whatever I was doing.

Wykes struggled in my grasp, his frail hands gripping my arm and even summoning flames to try and burn me into letting go, but his attempts amounted to nothing.

"Rimuru…" Jasmine said, while Arthur didn't say anything. Part of me can tell he was fine with what I was doing.

"I've always though you and your family were beneath my need to bother with," I said to him with a low voice. "But lately, you bunch just seem to keep testing the limits of my patience."

Lucas Wykes's eyes shot wide open. Fear, desperation, and rage clouded his expression. "Perhaps you'd prefer to have been among the beast's ash." I added. I know for sure I looked angry, and to be honest, I really was.

Killing was something I am capable of effortlessly. But killing heedlessly was still an act I was against doing, but when I see this useless son of a bitch, I couldn't help but think: Why not?

I felt the cavern's atmosphere change. It wasn't fear or tension; it was the weight of judgment I knew everyone felt. Arthur stepped closer but didn't intervene. Jasmine took a hesitant step forward but stopped herself. None of them were sure whether to stop me—or if they even should.

"You thrive off the backs of others," I continued, my grip tightening as Wykes gasped. "You throw tantrums when things don't go your way, and yet, when it comes to real danger, you cower. You rely on others to save your hide, then blame them when it doesn't go your way. Tell me, Wykes, is there a single thing about you that isn't a waste?"

Is there a single reason why I shouldn't kill him, here and now?

"P-please…" he choked out, his face turning a sickly shade of red. The flames he summoned earlier fizzled out entirely, his magic failing him. The diamond pupils of my eyes pulsed lightly.

"…"

I sighed and released him, letting him fall to the ground in a heap. He coughed violently, his hands clutching his throat as he gasped for air. I turned away, addressing the rest of the party instead.

"We're leaving in ten minutes. Get ready," I said curtly.

Jasmine hesitated but eventually nodded, while Arthur gave me a long, appraising look before returning to his spot by the fire. No one spoke of what had just happened. I had made my point clear to Wykes, but a small part of me wondered if I'd gone too far.

Then again, people like him rarely learned unless they were forced to confront their own uselessness.

I conjured the portal into existence, its edges glowing faintly as gasps of surprise once again resounded throughout the crowd. But I made it clear with my eyes that I wasn't to be questioned, especially now when I'm not in the best of moods.

The team moved quickly, gathering what little belongings they had left. As they did, Brald approached me.

"I owe you more than just thanks," he said, his voice steady but laced with exhaustion. "If there's ever anything you need—"

"Save it," I cut him off. "Just try not to get yourself into another mess like this. Everyone ready?"

One by one, they gathered around me. Wykes, for his part, kept his distance, avoiding my gaze entirely.

"Good," I said, stepping through the portal first.

———

The streets of Xyrus faded into view as we emerged from the portal. Arthur and the others exchanged quiet farewells as I dropped them inside the Guild. Brald took it upon himself to handle the group's registration for the completion of their quest, sparing me the need for further interaction.

Arthur stood near the entrance. "You sure you don't want to stay for the debrief?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Not my concern. You're alive; that's enough."

Jasmine gave me a slight nod of gratitude, her usual stoicism softened just enough to be noticeable. The others offered their thanks in varying degrees of awkwardness, but I dismissed them with a wave of my hand.

"I've got other matters to attend to," I said simply, stepping away from the group without looking back.

"Hey, Rimuru," Arthur suddenly called out to me, also drawing the others' attention. "It's amazing that you weren't late. Makes you seem like a true hero."

I looked back at him. I was speechless. Me? A hero? His words stirred me into discomfort somewhat, though I didn't know why. In response, I simply smiled at him, trying to shake off the lingering sentiments that stirred my mind.

"Actually, I hardly ever arrive on time."

…

The walk to my villa was uneventful, as always.

The door to my villa creaked softly as I entered. The quiet here wasn't unsettling—it was familiar. Comforting, even. I made my way to the central room, the large windows offering a view of the city below. I settled into the high-backed chair by the window, my body sinking into its plush embrace.

<> 

Raphael said inside my head, his tone as calm and analytical as ever. His evolution into an ultimate skill had brought with it a level of fluency and interaction that bordered on unsettling. He no longer waited for questions to speak; he just talked whenever he deemed it necessary, offering observations that sometimes left me questioning myself—just like now.

"Are you scolding me now?"

<>

"Consistent, huh?" I muttered, leaning back and letting my gaze drift toward the ceiling. "What are you trying to say?"

<>

"…I've been wondering about that myself," I admitted after a pause. "Back then, when Tempest was attacked, I felt everything—the loss, the rage, the despair. But now... I don't even know."

<>

"And that's supposed to be a good thing?"

<>

I exhaled slowly, though I didn't need to breathe. "Sometimes, I wonder if I'm losing something important. If this... detachment makes me less human."

Raphael was silent for a moment, as though considering his response.

<>

"Choices, huh?" I murmured, a wry smile tugging at my lips. "How about this—I chose to spare Wykes. Was that empathy or indifference?"

<> Raphael replied. <>

Compassion. The word felt strange, almost foreign, as if it no longer belonged to me. But perhaps that was just another aspect of this new reality I had to accept.

"Raphael," I said softly, though anxiety laced my voice. "Do you think I'm still me?"

<>

I chuckled quietly. "Always so logical."

<>

———

I dreamt again. Of fire and ash. Of screams tearing through the air.

Tempest burned.

The nightmare always begins the same.

I stand on the edge of the crater where Tempest once thrived, my feet sinking into the ashen ground. The air reeks of death and decay, thick with the repetition of screams that no longer have voices to carry them. Smoke rises in tendrils from what little remains of the city I built—the city I swore to protect.

I'm not sure how long I've been standing there, staring at the devastation. Time feels irrelevant here. My senses are sharp, yet they bring no clarity—only the suffocation of failure. A familiar weight settles in my chest, like a hand squeezing my nonexistent heart. I know what's coming next. I've lived this dream too many times.

"My lord..." A broken and frail voice calls out to me.

I turn slowly, though every instinct screams at me not to. Shion's mangled form crawls toward me, her once-vivid eyes dull and glassy. Blood trails behind her like an accusation, and the sight of her severed arms makes me sick. She shouldn't be able to move, let alone speak, but this is a nightmare—logic holds no power here.

"I waited for you," she whispers, her voice cracking as she drags herself closer. "We all did. You promised, my lord... You promised to save us."

I can't respond. My throat feels tight, but not from grief—not entirely, at least. There's something else there now, something colder. It's as if the part of me that should shatter at this scene has been locked away. I'm not as broken as I should be. Maybe not even as broken as I want to be.

Shion's body collapses inches from my feet, her breath rattling as it fades.

"Why didn't you come sooner?" She chokes out before going still.

I feel the emptiness of it, the lack of guilt that should accompany her words. I felt the glow of my crimson eyes go dim.

I step over her corpse without hesitation. There's no room for hesitation in this dream, no chance to rewrite the script. It's always the same. I walk through the ruins of Tempest, surrounded by the faces of those I failed.

They probably think I ran away.

Gobta, Benimaru, Souei… all of them reduced to lifeless husks that accuse me with their silence. They're everywhere, scattered like leaves after a storm. Some reach for me as I pass, their fingers clawing at the air, but I don't stop.

I can't stop.

The dream shifts once again. The sky turns crimson, the clouds churning like bloodied waves. I find myself standing in the center of the government hall, or what's left of it. The grand table lies split in two, and the banners bearing Tempest's emblem are shredded and burned.

In the middle of the destruction stands Hinata Sakaguchi. Her cold gaze meets mine, but she doesn't speak—her presence is damning enough.

"You weren't strong enough," she finally says, her voice devoid of malice. It's a statement of fact, as sharp as her sword. "This is the result of your arrogance."

I want to argue, to lash out, but the words won't come. She's right. No matter how many times I relive this moment, her words always ring true. I wasn't strong enough to protect them. I hesitated. I underestimated. And in the end, I failed.

But as her blade plunges into my chest, I don't feel pain. I don't feel anything at all. Even as the blood that shouldn't exist at all spills from my wound, pooling at my feet, there's a coldness inside me that I can't shake. The me from before—the naive, optimistic me—would've crumbled from this nightmare. He would've woken up drenched in sweat, gasping for air, desperate to reassure himself it wasn't real.

Now, I just watch.

The faces of the fallen are gone, replaced by an eerie silence. The emptiness feels natural now, like a second skin.

But it wasn't over. It never was.

I felt a presence behind me and turned slowly. There was me. The old me. Shorter and more petite, golden eyes that precede the crimson pair I have now. Everything seemed to drown out as I looked at myself—broken, battered, but there was something in him that I can never reclaim: my humanity.

"You did this," it said, its voice frighteningly similar to my own. "You let them die."

"I know," I said. "And I'll live with that."

"You don't care," it said, stepping closer. "Not anymore. Look at you. You're not even mourning them."

"Grief won't bring them back."

The old me laughed, a hollow, mocking sound. "You've changed, me. You think you're stronger now, don't you? But you're not. You're just… emptier."

I didn't argue. I couldn't. Because it wasn't wrong.

I know it's partly true. The evolution—the price I paid to save them only to ultimately fail—it's stripped away pieces of who I was. I was hollow.

And maybe that was for the best.

"Maybe it's not that you can't find a way to return, but that you're not sure you even want to. Why? Because you're afraid to face what your failure has caused."

Again, I didn't respond.

The old me stepped closer. "You think you can run and start a new life in a new world? You'll fail again," it whispered. "And next time, there won't be anyone left to save."

Once again, I was silent.

The voice blurred as I stopped myself from listening.

I knew Veldora would've been eventually revived. That had to be true, didn't it? Of course, it was. I told myself that over and over. I trust him. He wouldn't let Tempest fall apart. He wouldn't fail like I did. The place would probably even be better off now—safer, stronger.

Yes, definitely.

But deep down, the doubt gnawed at me. I squeezed my eyes shut and whispered the words to myself again, like a mantra. Like a lifeline.

Tempest was safe now. It had to be.

Have I truly done enough?

How much was enough?

No. I was just grasping for something to fall back on—some shred of hope to cling to in the face of the painful truth that I might never be able to return.

…

I woke up with a start. The world feels too bright, too vivid. I sit up and ran a hand through my hair. There's no panic, no racing heartbeat. Just a quiet acceptance that this is who I've become.

I got up and began to prepare to live another day. The nightmares will fade eventually—I reassured myself. Or maybe they won't. Either way, it doesn't matter.

Because I've already learned to live with the darkness.