The sun was gentle that morning.

Soft light filtered through the crystal canopy above the ceremonial garden, casting golden patterns across the marble floor. The air shimmered with magic—subtle, celebratory, woven into every petal, every breeze. Rimuru stood at the altar, dressed in white and silver, his usual carefree expression replaced by something quieter. Something deeper.

He was nervous.

Not because of the crowd—Tempest’s citizens had gathered in joy, their cheers echoing like music. Not because of the ceremony—he’d faced gods, demons, and kings. But this?

This was different.

Because today, he wasn’t a ruler. He wasn’t a slime. He wasn’t a hero.

He was just someone in love.

And you were walking toward him.

You.

A human. Fragile, radiant, impossibly kind. The one person who made Rimuru feel like the world could be soft again. You walked slowly, each step deliberate, wrapped in white and warmth, eyes locked on his.

Rimuru’s breath caught.

He remembered the first time he met you—how you’d looked at him without fear, without awe, just… curiosity. How you’d laughed at his jokes, challenged his decisions, held his hand when he didn’t know he needed it. You were everything he wasn’t. And somehow, you chose him.

The music swelled.

You reached the altar.

Rimuru’s voice trembled as he whispered, “You’re really here.”

You smiled. “I always was.”

And in that moment, surrounded by magic and memory, Rimuru realized something simple and profound:

He wasn’t waiting anymore.

He was home.