CHAPTER SEVEN
627 Words
Chapter 7: Ascension of the Slime King
The ritual began without fire, without chants, without priests.
Valthar required none of those things.
Deep beneath his throne, where the earth itself had been hollowed out by centuries of pressure and magic, the crystal pulsed like a living heart. Ancient symbols—older than demons, older than gods—glowed along the cavern walls as Valthar extended his will downward. This was not conquest. This was evolution.
The crystal answered.
Reality bent.
The ground liquefied, flowing upward into Valthar’s body as if gravity itself had surrendered. His form expanded, not in size alone, but in existence. He no longer occupied a single space; he existed across layers of reality. Every slime bound to him screamed—not in pain, but in awe—as their master’s power surged through the bond they shared.
Memories flooded Valthar’s mind.
Not his own.
He saw an ancient age when the world was young, when slimes were not pests but primordial beings, capable of absorbing concepts—strength, magic, even divinity. He saw kings and gods unite in fear to seal the Slime Sovereign away, shattering its core into crystals and scattering them across realms.
The crystal inside Valthar was one of those fragments.
And now, it had found a vessel worthy of completing what had once been unfinished.
“I understand now,” Valthar said, his voice echoing across dimensions. “I was never an accident.”
His body crystallized and liquefied simultaneously, forming something new: a crown of living crystal fused into his very essence, sigils orbiting him like moons. His presence alone caused lesser demons to collapse, unable to withstand the pressure of his will.
Above ground, the world reacted violently.
Tides surged. Volcanoes trembled. Magic spiraled out of control. Across the continent, mages fell to their knees as spell circles shattered and ancient wards failed. The sky split with a*—an impossible fracture glowing green and violet.
The hero saw it from the battlefield.
He knew instantly.
“He’s ascending,” he said, horror tightening his chest. “If he finishes… there will be no Demon King to defeat.”
The army did not hesitate.
They marched.
Steel, magic, faith, and desperation clashed against the borders of Valthar’s domain. Elite slimes met them head-on, stronger than anything seen before. The forest itself fought—roots impaling soldiers, terrain shifting underfoot. But the hero pushed forward, cutting a path toward the throne with everything he had left.
At the heart of the cavern, Valthar sensed him.
“The creator returns,” he mused.
The hero burst into the chamber just as the final phase began. Light exploded outward as Valthar descended from the air, no longer merely slime, no longer demon.
Something more.
“You did this,” the hero shouted over the roaring magic. “All this suffering!”
Valthar looked at him—not with hatred, but with calm clarity.
“No,” he replied. “You did. I merely became what the world refused to acknowledge.”
The crystal flared.
The seal shattered.
Power flooded Valthar completely.
In that moment, the title Demon King dissolved.
Valthar ascended as the Slime God Sovereign, a being born from neglect, fear, and evolution itself. The cavern collapsed outward, reshaping into a throne room carved from reality, floating above the land.
The hero raised his sword, hands shaking—not from fear, but from understanding.
He was no longer fighting a monster.
He was facing the consequence of humanity’s arrogance.
And Valthar, once a tiny slime that ran away, now gazed upon the world as something that could be remade.
The war was no longer about victory.
It was about whether the world deserved to continue as it was.
- Writer
