The battlefield, once tense and alive with the clash of blades and magic, was now quiet. Rimuru and Hinata sat side by side on the ground, the weight of their battle replaced by the lightness of understanding. Their conversation was filled with a surprising warmth, their mutual respect growing with each exchange. Rimuru couldn't help but feel relieved—his nation was safe.

Their subordinates watched from a distance, smiles of relief spreading among them. Peace had been restored, and the heavy burden of conflict had been lifted. The quiet murmur of the wind and the soft glow of the setting sun painted the scene with tranquility.

But peace is often fleeting.

Without warning, Hinata's sword, which had been resting in the dirt, trembled and rose into the air, glinting ominously in the fading light. It shot forward with deadly speed, aimed directly at Rimuru. The sudden movement shattered the calm, and Rimuru's golden eyes widened in surprise. Exhausted from the battle, his reaction was just a fraction too slow.