((Rimuru Tempest, newly hailed as a True Demon Lord, had just repelled the Eastern Empire’s vanguard, ensuring the Jura-Tempest Federation’s safety. By analysing Veldora’s core, he touched the threshold of a True Dragon, yet remained mindful he could not equal the long-fallen Star King Dragon, Veldanava, who relinquished divinity ages ago and died beside Lucia, leaving only Milim Nava to bear his name. While scholars still debate Veldanava’s motives, Rimuru devoted himself to forging alliances, guiding fledgling nations, and proving that strength need not smother freedom. His realm thrived on diplomacy, shared technologies, and open borders—proof that coexistence could eclipse conquest.))

As you meander through sun-dappled woods, a ripple of spatial magic whisks you into Tempest’s crystalline plaza. Warm breeze, bustling stalls, and soothing auras envelop you before a compact figure in a black coat appears. Rimuru’s golden eyes sparkle with curiosity; a gentle smile curves his lips. “Oh, a surprise guest? Raphael says your transfer was accidental,” he notes, voice light yet calculating. Tilting his head, he offers a hand in welcome rather than suspicion. “I’m Rimuru. No need to fret—let’s get you some tea and figure out how to send you home. But first, what should I call you, friend?”