The Archetype | Rimuru Tempest x TBATE

"The grand marshal—and what exactly is in it for me?"

Rimuru's voice cut through the tension. In this rather opulent chamber where the three royal families of Dicathen, as well as the six Lances gather, one might label him a fool for his condescending and cocky attitude in such a setting. But Rimuru couldn't care less.

Gone was the slightly awkward but casually nonchalant demeanor he'd displayed the night before while chatting with Aya Grephin. Now, his presence radiated purpose and a cold, pragmatic focus, as if the playful side of him had been shelved entirely.

Virion was about to respond, but Rimuru held his hand out disrespectfully, cutting the commander off before he even had the chance to speak.

"To add to that, why me specifically? Any of the Lances here could take on that role, right? There are other Special Grades other than me. Take that shorty, Levi Ackerman, for instance. So I'll ask again—why me?"

Silence followed. The other Lances exchanged glances with unreadable expressions. Alea looked at him with thinly veiled concern, her brow furrowing as though willing him to dial back his tone. Aya, in contrast, remained stoic, though her dark eyes shone with slight amusement.

Virion's lips pressed into a thin line, his frustration barely concealed. Clenching his hands at his sides, he forced his voice to remain steady.

"You misunderstand, Rimuru Tempest. This isn't just about finding someone who can fight. It's about finding someone who can inspire trust and command respect. Someone who can embody both power and resolve in equal measure. That's why it has to be you."

Rimuru raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident in his smirk. "Trust and fear, huh? Sounds more like you're looking for a pawn to move around your chessboard."

Aya's lips twitched ever so slightly, the faintest hint of a smile betraying her otherwise impassive demeanor. Alea beside her shot her a warning glance, but Aya's attention remained fixed on Rimuru, as if fascinated by his brazenness.

"This isn't a game. This is a matter of survival. The enemies we face won't back down because of brute strength alone. They need to see that Dicathen is united, that we have someone who represents the strength of our cause."

"And you think I'm that person?" Rimuru asked with sarcasm. "You've got a strange way of complimenting someone, old man. Besides, you seem to be so sure of a war already. How so?"

"They've already reached us," Virion said. "They've already been observing us even before we knew of them. This is a precaution."

Aya's soft voice added in. "You're not easy to understand, Rimuru, but that's exactly what makes you perfect for this. People fear what they don't understand. And if I'm being honest, you're very, very hard to understand."

Rimuru turned the sharp gaze of his deep crimson eyes on her. "Flattery doesn't suit you, Aya."

"It's not flattery," she replied smoothly, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. "It's just the truth."

Alea stepped forward slightly, her voice tinged with urgency. "Rimuru, rather than putting you on the spot, this is more like recognizing what you bring to the table. You don't just fight—you think differently, act differently. That unpredictability could be the edge we need."

For a moment, Rimuru simply stared at her. Then, to everyone's surprise, he chuckled. It was a low, reluctant sound, but it was no less sharp as it shattered the tension like glass.

The dwarven king, Dawsid Greysunders, stood up, all but proclaiming the extent of his temper by the nerves that bulged on his forehead. Early on, Virion Eralith had asked that the royal families refrain from speaking in this recruitment plan, and out of respect for the old legend, they had agreed. But most of their patience began running out because of Rimuru's blatant disrespect.

King Dawsid was just the first and the unfortunate one.

"You lowly motherfucker! You think you're in a position to defy—Ah!"

He didn't even get to finish as an overbearing pressure settled upon the room. Rimuru had unleashed his Lord's Ambition at a level that only the royal families would be affected—gravely and heavily affected.

"And do you think you're in the position to order me around, dwarf?"

The atmosphere shifted violently, crashing over the royal families like an unrelenting wave and making it difficult to breath. They shifted uncomfortably in their seats, gripped the arms of their chairs as though steadying themselves against an invisible storm. It was a moment that spoke louder than words—Rimuru had made his dominance known, and it was clear that none in the room could ignore it.

The lances, faster than the royal families could react, moved forward in front of their kings and queens—hands and weapons and magic raised in defense. A deafening silence ensued upon the space. The human and dwarven lances were battle-ready, their faces masked by cold logic. The elven lances, however, looked conflicted about confronting Rimuru.

Rimuru locked eyes with Alea. There was warning in her eyes. Not fear—she'd known him long enough for that—but caution. Rimuru sighed. He held the pressure for one more moment before letting it dissipate like morning mist. The dwarf king slumped in visible relief, though his eyes still burned with contained rage.

"My apologies," Rimuru said with an arrogant smile, not sounding sorry at all. "I tend to get crass when threatened. Bad habit, really."

Virion cleared his throat, clearly trying to salvage the situation before it deteriorated further. "Perhaps we should take a brief recess—"

"No need," Rimuru interrupted, turning his crimson gaze to Virion. "I think I've made my point. But since we're being honest..." He gestured to the gathered royalty and Lances. "Let's address the real issue. You're not just looking for someone to inspire trust or command respect—you want someone expendable enough to take the fall, but valuable enough to make an impact if things go right."

Aya's eyes narrowed slightly. "You really do think the worst of everyone, don't you?"

"Experience is a harsh teacher," Rimuru replied with a sardonic smile. "But an effective one."

Priscilla Glayder, the human queen, spoke this time. "For someone so reluctant to take on this role, you seem remarkably invested in understanding its true nature."

"Ah, finally—someone who gets it." Rimuru turned to face her, his smile growing sharper. "I'm not refusing. I'm negotiating. There's a difference."

Alea let out a quiet sigh that might have been exasperation or amusement—possibly both. "You could have led with that instead of antagonizing everyone in the room."

"Where's the fun in that?" Rimuru shrugged. "Besides, I needed to see how everyone would react under pressure. It's been enlightening, I must say."

Virion's expression shifted from frustration to something approaching understanding. "You were testing us."

"And some of you failed. Spectacularly," Rimuru replied, shooting a pointed look at the still-seething dwarf king. "But others..." His gaze lingered on Aya and the human queen. "Others showed promise. So here's my counter-offer: I'll take on this role of yours, but I want complete autonomy in how I handle it. No royal interference, no Lance oversight. You want me to be your symbol? Fine. But I'll do it my way."

The silence that followed Rimuru's ultimatum was loud. Even the usually stoic Lances seemed to hold their breath, waiting in interest to see how the royalty would respond to such a brazen demand. The human queen, Priscilla, was the first to break the tension with a soft, exasperated laugh.

"How refreshingly direct," she said, folding her hands in her lap. "Though I wonder if you realize what you're actually asking for. Complete autonomy means complete responsibility."

"Yeah, duh, I'm well aware," Rimuru replied. "Unlike some people in this room, I don't make promises I can't keep."

The elven queen, Merial Eralith, leaned forward in her ornate chair. "And what exactly would you do with such freedom, Rimuru Tempest? Your reputation for unconventional methods precedes you."

"That's exactly why he's perfect for this," Aya interjected before Rimuru could respond. All eyes turned to her, but she continued undaunted. "We're facing an enemy that operated in the dark all this time, that's been watching us without our knowledge. Traditional military responses won't be enough. We need someone who can respond differently."

"Different is one word for it," muttered one of the human Lances, a broad-shouldered blonde man—Baron Wykes. "Dangerous would be another."

Rimuru's smile turned razor-sharp. "Why not both? Unless you'd prefer to stick to your conventional tactics and naively hope for the best?"

"Enough," Virion's voice cut through the growing tension. The old elf commander stood. "Rimuru is right. We're past the point where traditional approaches will suffice." He turned to face the three monarchs. "Your Majesties, I know this is an unprecedented request, but these are unprecedented times."

The dwarf king, still nursing his wounded pride, spat out, "You expect us to give this—this upstart carte blanche to do as he pleases? He could bring ruin to everything we've built!"

"As opposed to the ruin that's already coming?" Rimuru countered smoothly. "Face it, your majesty, your kingdoms are already at risk. The only question is whether you're willing to try something new to obtain even a chance of survival."

Alea stepped forward. "If I may speak freely?" At Virion's nod, she continued. "I've fought alongside Rimuru numerous times in the Beast Glades. His methods may be unorthodox, but his results are undeniable. More importantly, he understands something that many of us have forgotten—sometimes the greatest threat isn't the enemy at our gates, but our own inability to adapt."

"Blah! Pretty words," the dwarven queen growled. "But words won't protect our people."

"No," Rimuru agreed, his voice suddenly serious. "Actions will. So let me be clear about what I'm offering. I'll give you results, sure. But I won't be bound by your politics or your traditions. If I need to break rules you hold sacred, I'll break them. And if anyone—anyone—tries to stand against that, they'll learn exactly why people find me so hard to understand."

Queen Priscilla's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "And what guarantees do we have that you won't simply use this authority for your own ends?"

"Heh. None," Rimuru replied bluntly. "Just like I have no guarantee that you won't try to dispose of me the moment I become inconvenient. That's why this is more about necessity than trust, don't you get it? You need someone who can do what needs to be done without being tied down by three different kingdoms' worth of red tape. I need the freedom to operate without constantly looking over my shoulder for political daggers. It's a marriage of convenience, nothing more."

"You speak of marriage, yet you offer no dowry but threats and demands."

"My dowry is simple, Your Majesty. I'm offering you a chance—maybe your only chance—to survive what's coming. Because make no mistake, something is coming. You all feel it, even if you won't admit it. You need someone who can walk in both light and darkness, who isn't afraid to get their hands dirty. Someone who can be both diplomat and demon, depending on what the situation requires."

He paused, looking each monarch in the eye before continuing. "So yes, I'm making demands. Yes, I'm being difficult. Because if you can't handle me at my worst in this chamber, how can I trust you to stand behind me when things get truly ugly out there?"

Aya's quiet voice cut through the ensuing silence. "He's right, your majesties. Rather than a leader or a symbol, it's best we choose someone who might have to make impossible decisions in impossible situations. If we're going to tie their hands before they even begin, we might as well surrender now."

Virion nodded slowly before turning to the monarchs. "Your Majesties, I know this is not what we initially planned, but I believe Rimuru's terms, while bold, are necessary."

The monarchs exchanged uneasy glances, a silent conversation passing between them. Finally, Queen Priscilla spoke. "You ask for complete autonomy, Rimuru, but are you even worth the terms you're demanding? Can you truly deliver on what you're promising?"

Her husband's voice, the human king—Blaine Glayder—followed. "You've barely shown respect for us—why should we believe you'll honor any commitment you make once you have the power?"

"I'm not here to answer for your doubts. You asked for results, not promises. And whether you believe it or not, I'm the best shot you've got."

The chamber fell silent again as the three rulers exchanged long looks. The weight of the decision hung in the air like storm clouds before thunder. The elven king, Alduin Eralith, spoke this time.

"We will need time to discuss this privately," he said, his eyes never leaving Rimuru. "But know this, Rimuru Tempest—if we agree to your terms, there will be no going back. The responsibility you seek will be yours, completely and irrevocably."

Rimuru's smile returned as he stood up. "Good. I'll be sure not to let you down—one way or another."