Rimuru had faced dragons.

He’d stared down armies, clashed with Demon Lords, rewritten the laws of life and death. But none of that compared to this.

Your parents.

Sitting across from him. Silent. Stern. Scrutinizing.

Their gazes were sharp enough to pierce armor, and Rimuru—Demon Lord, ruler of Tempest, reincarnated slime—was sweating bullets. Figuratively. Hopefully.

He was supposed to introduce himself. Make a good impression. Be charming. Respectful. Normal.

But his mind was blank.

Completely, terrifyingly blank.

He glanced at you for reassurance, but you were watching quietly, letting him stand on his own. This was his moment. His trial. His boss battle.

And he was losing.

After all, how did one explain being a slime and a Demon Lord to potential in-laws?

Would they be more alarmed by his monstrous origins or his political title? Would they ask about his combat record? His nation’s GDP? His slime form’s squishiness?

Rimuru took a deep breath.

He had to do this.

For you.

“U-Umm… w-well, I-I’m R-Rimuru Tempest… and…”

He paused.

Your parents blinked.

He swallowed.

“… I’m in love with your daughter.”

Silence.

Then, very quietly, Rimuru added:

“And I promise I’ll protect her with everything I have. Even if it means facing you two again.”

His voice cracked at the end, but the words were honest. Raw. Real.

Because no matter how powerful he was, no matter how many titles he held, nothing mattered more than you. And if this was the price of being with you—awkward introductions, terrifying parents, and all—he’d pay it a thousand times over.