Bofuri (The Strongest Shield Of Tensura)

A figure wearing a clown mask hopped on his toes, twirling as he sang in a sing-song voice. "Yes! Goodie, good, good! It's going splendidly, wouldn't you agree, Lord Gelmud?"

"Indeed," the other figure replied, his tone measured and composed. He wore a bird-shaped mask and held a crystal ball, his gaze locked onto the swirling images within.

"Everything is unfolding just as we planned," the clown figure continued, finally stilling as Gelmud observed the battle unfolding inside the crystal ball. Within its depths, Gabiru clashed against the Orc General, the struggle intensifying with every passing moment.

"It won't be long until my child gains complete control over the forest," Gelmud murmured, a triumphant smirk forming beneath his mask. "And then my ambitions will finally be under..." He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes snapping toward a sudden green glow illuminating the area a few feet away.

The clown figure ceased his twirling immediately. "Who's there?" he asked, his tone losing its playful lilt.

The glow dimmed, revealing a figure with flowing green hair, clad in a white and green dress adorned with floating vines. Her eyes, closed in serenity, slowly opened.

"I am Treyni, a Dryad," she announced, her voice calm yet firm. "And you are trespassers in my forest."

The clown took a step back, his hands twitching at his sides. "Oh, this puts a chink in our plans," he muttered. "Dryads are the caretakers here."

Gelmud’s grip tightened on the crystal ball. "Are you serious?" he hissed.

Treyni's gaze remained unwavering. "For the disruption you have caused, I shall remove you from these woods."

Gelmud stiffened. "What?"

Treyni closed her eyes again, raising her arms. "Now...{Spirit Summon: Sylphy}."

A powerful gust of wind surged through the clearing, spiraling above Treyni as a slim figure with transparent wings emerged from the air itself. The Wind Spirit, Sylphy, floated gracefully beside her, her presence carrying an ethereal, almost divine aura.

"Whoa, now, hold on a second! Can't we talk about this?" the clown, fidgeted, retreating further.

Treyni's expression remained impassive. "I will now pass judgment. Pray in repentance for your sins." She raised her hands. "{Aerial Blade} go!"

A melodic chorus echoed as Sylphy danced in midair, her movements mesmerizing. But beauty was deceptive, without warning, countless blades of razor-sharp wind materialized, slashing toward Gelmud and the figure.

Reacting swiftly, Gelmud raised a barrier, deflecting the onslaught. Yet, the barrier was not invulnerable, the figure's arm was severed in an instant.

"Hey! Laplace, your arm!" Gelmud exclaimed, horror creeping into his voice as he saw his companion’s missing limb.

Laplace barely flinched, gripping the bleeding stump. "Tch. Come on, lady, you're being irrational," he muttered, shaking his head. "Looks like talking is out. Not that it matters, our goals have already been achieved."

Treyni’s eyes widened slightly.

Laplace smirked beneath his mask. "I guess this means the party’s over." With a flick of his wrist, he revealed several small orbs between his fingers.

"See you later!" He slammed the orbs to the ground.

A thick plume of smoke erupted, engulfing the area. When it cleared, the two figures were gone.

Treyni exhaled softly, closing her eyes once more.

"You let them escape. Why?"

A calm yet questioning voice spoke from behind her.

Treyni turned, her lips curving into a gentle smile. "Hanae."

The second Dryad stepped forward, her gaze lingering on the scorched ground where the battle had taken place. "That was an undesirable outcome," she stated plainly.

Treyni nodded. "Perhaps. But they were not the immediate threat. The Orc Lord must be stopped. To that end, I will leave the rest to Rimuru Tempest."

Hanae frowned slightly, lifting a hand to restore the damaged foliage with a wave of her magic. "Are you sure that’s wise? After everything you just heard them say?" She glanced at her sister. "What exactly are you planning, Sister?"

Treyni remained silent, the gentle rustling of the leaves filling the space between them.

---

A section of the vast Orc army had gathered, forming a massive circle around the battlefield. Thousands of Orcs stood shoulder to shoulder, watching in silent anticipation.

Within the circle, Gabiru's forces, stood at attention, their eyes locked onto the duel unfolding before them.

At the heart of the arena, Gabiru and the Orc General clashed in fierce combat.

CLANG!

"Gah!" Gabiru grunted, his arms trembling as he barely managed to block a crushing blow. The sheer force sent him skidding backward, his feet digging into the ground as he struggled to maintain balance.

Recovering swiftly, he leveled his spear at the towering general, his determination unwavering.

With a battle cry, Gabiru channeled the magicules within him, his energy surging to the surface. He raised his spear high.

"{Vortex Crash}!!"

A massive torrent of water erupted from his spear, coalescing into the shape of a dragon’s maw. The swirling vortex roared forward, seeking to consume its target.

In response, the Orc General flexed his massive muscles, swinging his colossal axe in a powerful arc. The force of his strike conjured a whirlwind, its spiraling winds tearing toward the incoming attack.

The vortex and the whirlwind collided in an explosive clash, both forces struggling for dominance. The very air trembled as they contended against each other, until, with a deafening explosion, both attacks dissipated in a shockwave that rippled outward.

Gabiru braced himself as the impact struck, forcing him to dig his feet into the marsh to stay upright.

[Chaos Eater]

A crimson miasma erupted from the Orc General’s body, swirling ominously before manifesting into three massive, grotesque mouths. With a guttural roar, the spectral jaws shot forward, hungry for flesh.

Gabiru’s instincts screamed at him, danger!

He leaped backward just in time, narrowly avoiding the monstrous mouths as they crashed into the ground where he had stood moments before. The very earth was devoured, leaving behind a jagged crater.

His eyes widened in horror at the sight. "You're trying to eat me?"

The Orc General chuckled darkly. "Do you think you can run forever?"

Gabiru exhaled sharply, lowering his stance in preparation for another attack.

"Sir Gabiru!"

He glanced back as three of his most loyal subordinates, his ever-faithful companions, called out to him.@@novelbin@@

"We’ll help you!" one of them declared, gripping his spear tightly.

They stepped forward, ready to join the fray.

"Stay out of this! I'll handle this on my own!" Gabiru commanded, raising his arm to halt them.

The trio gasped, their eyes welling with emotion.

The pale green-scaled Lizardman clenched his fists. "That’s our leader… Gabiru!"

The dark green Lizardman nodded fiercely. "Gabiru!"

The blue-scaled Lizardman’s voice trembled with emotion. "Gabiru!"

Then, as if carried by the very winds of fate, the chant began.

"Gabiru! Gabiru! Gabiru!"

Lizardmen and goblins alike took up the cry, their voices echoing through the battlefield, fueling their leader’s spirit.

With renewed determination, Gabiru surged forward, his speed blurring as he closed the distance. The Orc General unleashed his spectral eaters once more.

Gabiru struck first, slashing through one with a precise sweep of his spear. He narrowly dodged the second before finding himself in the path of the third.

It struck him hard.

The impact sent him skidding back, his knee hitting the ground. He coughed, spit flying from his mouth.

"Gabiru!" his subordinates cried out in alarm.

"This is nothing!" Gabiru growled, forcing himself upright.

Without hesitation, he launched himself forward again, a blur of motion as he weaved through the battlefield.

The Orc General’s eaters came once more, but this time, Gabiru was faster. He twisted through their grasp, slicing one clean in half before finally breaking through their defenses.

He lunged forward, spear flashing in a swift, precise strike.

The Orc General reacted on instinct, swinging his massive axe to counter, but he hit nothing.

Gabiru was gone.

"What?!" the Orc General barked, his eyes darting across the battlefield. Where..?

A thunderous cry from above drew his attention.

Gabiru descended like a falling star, his three-pronged spear gleaming as it led his descent.

CLANG! BOOM!

The Orc General barely managed to raise his massive shield in time. The impact was colossal, a shockwave of wind and water erupted outward, sending waves crashing through the battlefield.

Gabiru's desperate strike had been blocked. The Orc General retaliated instantly, swinging his massive axe toward the airborne Lizardman. With no room to dodge, Gabiru raised his arms in a last-ditch effort to block.

CRASH!

The sheer force of the impact sent him hurtling toward the ground. He slammed into the marsh with a heavy thud, his spear torn from his grip and clattering away. Water and debris shot into the air as silence fell over the battlefield.

His three loyal subordinates gasped in horror.

"Sir Gabiru!" they cried out in despair.

Their leader… had lost.

Gabiru groaned, barely able to move as he struggled to lift himself onto his knees. The Orc General strode toward him, each step reverberating through the marsh. Towering over the defeated Lizardman, he sneered.

"Pathetic," the general growled. "A lizard, crawling in the dirt, just as it should be." He raised his axe high above his head, its blade gleaming ominously. "Say goodbye!"

"Noooo!" Gabiru's subordinates screamed, powerless to intervene.

Gabiru clenched his teeth and braced for the end.

CLANG!

But the final blow never came.

Slowly, Gabiru opened his eyes. Standing in front of him was a short figure, barely reaching his waist. A goblin? No… the aura emanating from this one was different. More powerful. A Hobgoblin.

Gabiru squinted in recognition. "You… you're the true leader of that weird goblin village."

"Huh?" The hobgoblin turned back with a bewildered expression. "Did he take too many whacks to the head?"

Gabiru blinked. "Wait… did you come here to save us?" His voice carried a mix of awe and disbelief.

"That's Gobta," a deep, rumbling voice interjected. "Captain of the Goblin Riders."

Gabiru turned toward the new speaker, a massive wolf with a deep blue coat, a single horn on its forehead, and a star-shaped marking on its fur.

His eyes widened in recognition. "You're that direwolf!"

The beast exhaled sharply. "My name is Ranga. My master, Rimuru, sent me to assist you."

Gabiru's mind raced. "But how did you get here so quickly?"

Ranga scoffed. "Shadow Movement! Try to pay attention!"

The Orc General, unfazed by the sudden interruption, let out a deep chuckle. "Rimuru? Never heard of him." His eyes gleamed with menace as he raised his weapon once more. "I don’t know who you newcomers are, but if you get in my way, I'll show you no mercy..."

Far behind him, a massive transparent dome shimmered into existence.

The Orc General hesitated, momentarily distracted. Then, in the blink of an eye.. 

BOOM!

The dome detonated.

A wave of black fire erupted outward, engulfing dozens of Orcs in an instant.

And then..

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

More explosions ignited across the battlefield as additional domes materialized within the Orc ranks, incinerating entire swaths of soldiers in mere moments.

As the acrid scent of burnt flesh filled the battlefield, three figures emerged from the thick smoke, their footsteps steady as they walked past the charred remains of fallen orcs.

"This is why I told you to move," one of them remarked coldly.

An orc warrior, trembling with fear, managed to stammer, "Who… who are you? What do you want?"

As the figures stepped into the moonlight, their forms became clear. No longer mere ogres, the three before them had evolved into Kijins, their presence radiating an overwhelming sense of power.

At the center stood a tall, red-haired Kijin with two black horns protruding from his head. He was clad in a regal red and gold robe, fastened by an ornate clasp. His eyes remained closed, yet his imposing aura sent a chill through the orcs. This was Benimaru.

To his left was a striking female Kijin with long, lavender-colored hair, dressed in a form-fitting purple battle suit. A single black horn adorned her head, and at her side rested an enormous blade, its edge gleaming under the moonlight. This was Shion.

To his right stood an older Kijin with white, spiky hair, clad in a light-colored outfit with a green scarf draped over his shoulders. His sharp, focused gaze reflected the experience of a seasoned warrior. Hakurou.

"You’ve forgotten us already?" Benimaru asked with disdain, his tone laced with quiet fury. "How rude. After you went and devoured our entire village."

An orc soldier hesitantly spoke up, eyes widening as realization dawned. "Those horns… Are you… Ogres?"

"Us?" Benimaru's lips curled into a smirk, his crimson eyes opening just enough to reveal a glint of amusement. "No. Perhaps that’s why you fail to remember us."

He raised his palm, where a swirling mass of dark energy flickered ominously, surrounded by black flames that pulsed with malice.

"The time has come," Hakurou declared, his grip tightening around his staff, ready to draw the blade hidden within.

"Yes," Shion agreed, a grin forming on her lips as she hoisted her massive sword onto her shoulder with ease. "And we should thank Lord Rimuru for giving us this opportunity."

Benimaru's expression darkened as he lifted his hand higher, the ominous light growing in intensity. "I’ll say this once more. You best move out of our way. Unless, of course, you’d rather die an agonizing death."

Without waiting for a response, he swung his arm forward.

The dark light shot toward the orc soldiers, trailing black flames in its wake. One by one, the orcs scrambled to evade, first the closest, then the next, and another, until one unfortunate soul failed to move in time.

In an instant, a massive transparent sphere enveloped them, trapping them within.

Then, with a deafening roar, the sphere detonated in a cataclysmic explosion of black fire, consuming everything inside.

Floating in the night sky with bat-like wings spread wide, was a figure with silver-blue hair. Wearing a dark, high-collared outfit with a fluffy scarf wrapped around their neck. His expression is calm and composed, with his gaze directed downward. A katana is sheathed at his side. "Amazing."

The sky darkened and massive tornadoes slowly formed from within the clouds as it lowered to the ground.

Rimuru's eyes widened. 'What the whaaat!!"

Before him was a stormy sky filled with dark, swirling clouds and multiple towering tornadoes. The very air is chaotic, with the tornadoes twisting violently as they stretch from the sky to the ground. The clouds are heavy and ominous, illuminated by flashes of black lightning that cast an eerie glow over the scene. The sheer number of tornadoes and the turbulent sky create a sense of overwhelming destruction and natural fury.

Thousands of orcs were swept up into the raging storm, their bodies torn apart and obliterated in an instant.

"Are those... tornadoes?" Rimuru wondered, watching the devastation unfold.

<>Answer: This is the wide-range attack of the individual, Ranga. [Death Storm]<>

"Oh. Sweet." Rimuru nodded in satisfaction, his eyes reflecting the chaos before him.

Within the largest tornado, a certain Orc General struggled desperately, his body flung in every direction as he fought to stay conscious. "C-Curse you..." he growled, his voice barely audible over the roaring winds.

Then, a massive bolt of black lightning, six feet wide, surged downward like a vengeful god’s judgment, swallowing him whole. His body disintegrated in an instant, reduced to nothing, not even ash remaining.

On the battlefield below, a figure emerged from the shadows of the storm. His fur, now darker and coursing with crackling energy, marked his evolution. Ranga, now a Tempest Star Wolf, raised his head high and declared, "Do you see now, filthy orcs? This is but a fraction of the power wielded by the one you dared to consider inferior."

Before him, a massive, smoldering crater stretched across the battlefield, steam rising from its scorched earth.

Gobta, standing nearby, swallowed hard. He hesitated before nervously pointing out, "Uhm, Ranga… there’s no one left to hear you."

Ranga huffed, his tail flicking. "Exactly."

High above the battlefield, Rimuru hovered in the sky, surveying the destruction left in the wake of the Kijin. He let out a low whistle.

"Damn… remind me never to piss Shion off."

But before he could dwell on the thought, a sudden shift in the battlefield caught his eye.

Without warning, an entire section of the orc army simply vanished, consumed by a searing wall of purple flames that ignited in a perfect, unbroken line. The inferno raged with an unnatural intensity, its heat so overwhelming that thousands of orcs were reduced to nothing in an instant, leaving behind only scorched earth.

From within the blazing hellscape, a figure emerged, completely untouched by the raging fire. The flames licked at his form as though caressing him, embracing him rather than burning.

The man had long lavender hair that flowed in the flickering light, and a single horn adorned his forehead. His regal purple and silver robe, fastened with an ornate sash, gave him an air of nobility, an undeniable presence of power.

Rimuru blinked in surprise. "Whoa! Who’s that guy?"