Echoes of Stardust │ Veldanava
The Jura Tempest Federation had become a beacon of coexistence—a place where monsters, humans, dwarves, and all manner of beings lived in unprecedented harmony. Yet among the countless residents who had found their place within this thriving nation, there existed one individual who seemed to drift through life like morning mist across still water.
[M/n].
That was the name he carried, though few knew its true weight or origin.
From the moment he'd quietly integrated into the Federation's society, questions had rippled through the populace like stones cast into a pond. It wasn't that he caused trouble—quite the opposite. [M/n] was perhaps the least troublesome resident Rimuru Tempest had ever encountered. No, the questions arose from something far more intriguing: his appearance.
"Shuna, are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Shion whispered one afternoon, her crimson eyes narrowing as she observed [M/n] walking through the marketplace, a perpetual expression of calm detachment gracing his features.
The pink-haired Kijin princess tilted her head, her analytical gaze following the young man as he moved with an almost dream-like quality through the crowds. "If you're referring to his resemblance to Rimuru-sama, then yes. I've noticed it from the beginning."
And resemblance it was—though "resemblance" felt like too weak a word for what they witnessed. [M/n] possessed long, pale blue hair that cascaded down his back, falling past his waist in silken waves. Softly cut bangs partially obscured his sky blue-gradient eyes—eyes that held an infinite, dazed quality, as if he existed perpetually between wakefulness and dreams. His slender, androgynous frame moved with minimal effort, each step calculated to expend the least amount of energy necessary.
He wore a high-collared, loosely fitted shirt with long sleeves that hung elegantly from his form, paired with dark pants and boots. Everything about his appearance seemed designed for maximum comfort and minimum fuss.
But it was his face—that ethereal, almost otherworldly face—that bore an uncanny similarity to their beloved master, Rimuru Tempest. The same delicate features, the same androgynous beauty, the same unsettling perfection that made one question whether they were looking at a person or a living work of art.
"It's like looking at an alternate version of Rimuru-sama," Shion murmured, her expression torn between curiosity and concern. "But there's something else... something I can't quite put my finger on."
Shuna nodded slowly. "His aura. Have you noticed? It's almost completely suppressed—subtle to the point of being nearly untraceable. For someone to maintain such control constantly... it speaks of either incredible discipline or..."
"Or incredible power that needs to be hidden," Shion finished, her hand unconsciously moving to rest on the hilt of her sword.
Yet despite this mystery, despite the questions that swirled around him like autumn leaves, [M/n] had proven to be nothing but harmless. In fact, "harmless" might have been the understatement of the century. The young man seemed to embody the very concept of non-intervention, moving through the Federation like a ghost who wanted nothing more than to be left alone.
His personal motto had become something of a legend among those who'd managed to exchange more than three words with him: "If I don't have to do it, I won't. But if I have to do it, I'll make it quick."
It was a philosophy he lived by with almost religious devotion.
The morning sun had barely crested the horizon when Shuna and Shion found themselves standing outside [M/n]'s modest residence, a small cottage situated in one of the quieter districts of Rimuru City. They'd been discussing their observations for weeks now, and curiosity had finally overcome propriety.
"Are you certain this is a good idea?" Shuna asked, her hand hovering over the door. "Rimuru-sama didn't exactly give us permission to—"
"We're not doing anything wrong!" Shion insisted, though her voice carried a hint of uncertainty. "We're just... conducting a harmless comparison. For the safety and security of the Federation, of course."
Shuna raised a delicate eyebrow. "Of course."
Before either could knock, the door opened to reveal [M/n], looking even more disheveled than usual. His pale blue hair was slightly mussed from sleep, and his sky-blue eyes held an expression of profound exhaustion that suggested he'd been rudely awakened from a very pleasant dream.
In his arms, clutched protectively against his chest, was a plushie that made both Kijin women freeze in their tracks.
The plushie was exquisitely crafted, depicting an androgynous figure with long, flowing lavender-blue gradient hair that partially covered its embroidered eyes. Small, golden curved horn-like protrusions extended from the back of its head, curving around to the front in a distinctly draconic fashion. It wore ornate robes of white fabric over a darker underlayer, with deep blue lining and gold accents forming intricate patterns along the edges.
Even in plush form, the figure radiated an aura of majesty and ancient power.
"What?" [M/n]'s voice was flat, emotionless, and still heavy with sleep.
"W-we need you to come with us," Shion stammered, her usual confidence faltering under that blank, infinite stare. "It's... important. Federation business."
[M/n] looked at them for a long moment, his expression never changing. Then, with a sigh that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul, he shuffled forward, making no move to release the plushie from his grasp.
"Fine. But make it quick. I was having a good dream."
And so began the strangest morning the Jura Tempest Federation had witnessed in quite some time.
Rimuru Tempest, Chancellor and founder of the Jura Tempest Federation, looked up from the paperwork scattered across his desk with an expression of profound confusion as his office door burst open.
"Rimuru-sama!" Shuna called out, her usual composure slightly ruffled as she and Shion entered, quite literally dragging a half-asleep [M/n] between them.
"We need to conduct an experiment!" Shion declared with the enthusiasm of someone who'd just discovered the secret to unlimited energy.
Rimuru blinked. Then blinked again. "An... experiment? At seven in the morning? And why does [M/n] look like he's about three seconds away from falling asleep standing up?"
"Because I am," [M/n] murmured, his grip tightening slightly on the mysterious plushie. "And I would very much like to return to bed."
"You can't! Not yet!" Shion insisted, positioning [M/n] directly beside Rimuru's desk. "Rimuru-sama, if you would please stand next to [M/n]?"
"Shion, what is this about?" Rimuru asked, though he was already rising from his chair, curiosity getting the better of him.
"Just... trust us, please."
With a sigh that rivaled [M/n]'s own, Rimuru moved to stand beside the half-asleep young man. The moment they were side by side, Shuna gasped audibly.
"By the spirits..."
Because standing together, the resemblance was nothing short of extraordinary.
They were nearly the same height, both possessing slender, androgynous builds. Both had that distinctive pale blue hair, though [M/n]'s was notably longer, cascading down his back while Rimuru's fell to about shoulder length. Both had those striking blue-gradient eyes, though [M/n]'s held a more distant, dream-like quality compared to Rimuru's sharper, more alert gaze.
It was like looking at two variations of the same base template—one more energetic and engaged with the world, the other perpetually drifting through existence with minimal investment.
By this point, word had spread through the castle like wildfire. One by one, Rimuru's subordinates began filtering into the office, drawn by curiosity and the promise of something unusual.
Benimaru arrived first, his crimson eyes widening slightly at the sight. "Well, that's... unexpected."
"Unexpected? It's uncanny!" Shion exclaimed, walking around the two as if inspecting merchandise. "They could be siblings!"
"Please don't say that," Rimuru muttered, feeling oddly uncomfortable with the comparison.
Ranga materialized from Rimuru's shadow, his massive wolf form shrinking down to something more office-appropriate as he tilted his head. "Master, this one's scent is... strange. Familiar, yet ancient. Like starlight preserved in amber."
"Poetic, Ranga, but not particularly helpful," Rimuru replied, though his interest was clearly piqued.
Hakurou entered with his characteristic calm, his experienced eyes immediately assessing the situation. "Fascinating. The similarities are remarkable, but there are distinct differences in their auras. Rimuru-sama's presence is bold and commanding, while this young one's is..."
"Suppressed," Souei finished, appearing from seemingly nowhere and making half the room jump. "Deliberately and expertly suppressed. I've been observing [M/n] since his arrival, and his energy signature is nearly impossible to track."
[M/n], for his part, seemed supremely unconcerned with being the center of attention. His eyes had half-closed, and he swayed slightly on his feet, the plushie still clutched protectively in his arms.
"Oi, is he falling asleep standing up?" Benimaru asked, alarmed.
"Apparently so," Rimuru said, reaching out to steady [M/n] before he toppled over. "Hey, you okay there?"
"Mmm... fine... just tired..." [M/n] murmured, his form beginning to shimmer slightly.
"Is he... flickering?" Shuna asked, leaning closer.
Indeed, [M/n]'s human form had begun to destabilize, his body taking on a translucent, iridescent quality. Before anyone could react, there was a soft pop of displaced air, and where [M/n] had stood, there was now an iridescent blue slime bouncing on the floor.
The room fell silent.
"Did he just..." Shion began.
"Turn into a slime?" Rimuru finished, his voice climbing an octave. "He's a SLIME?!"
The blue slime—[M/n]—bounced once, twice, then suddenly expanded to nearly twice its size, its gelatinous form opening like a mouth to completely engulf the Veldanava plushie before contracting back to its normal spherical shape.
Storing it for safekeeping, apparently.
"Well," Hakurou said after a long moment. "That explains the resemblance."
Rimuru stared at the slime that was apparently [M/n], his mind racing. "Hold on. Slimes only take human form when they evolve, and the form they take is supposedly random, or based on—"
He cut himself off, his eyes widening with realization.
"Based on what, Rimuru-sama?" Shuna asked.
"Based on... a template," Rimuru whispered. "But that would mean..."
The slime—[M/n]—jiggled slightly, as if confirming something.
Before Rimuru could process this revelation further, another presence made itself known. The temperature in the room seemed to rise slightly as golden energy crackled through the air, and a booming laugh echoed through the office.
"GWAHAHAHA! What's all this commotion? I could feel the concentration of interesting auras from—"
Veldora Tempest, in his human form of blonde hair, golden eyes, and tanned skin, materialized in the corner of the room. His enthusiastic grin froze on his face the moment his gaze landed on the iridescent blue slime sitting peacefully on the floor.
More specifically, on the shape barely visible through the slime's translucent body—the distinctive form of a plushie with lavender-blue hair and golden horns.
"That's..." Veldora's voice had gone quiet, all traces of his usual bombast vanishing. "That plushie... I've only seen one like it before, and it was..."
The True Dragon moved closer, his eyes fixed on the slime with an intensity that made several people in the room unconsciously step back.
"You," Veldora said softly, addressing the slime. "Show me that plushie. Please."
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the slime's form rippled, and it expelled the plushie onto the floor in front of Veldora, before quickly absorbing it again—but not before the True Dragon got a clear look at it.
Veldora's hands were shaking.
"That's... that's definitely... but how? Why would you have...?" He looked up at Rimuru, his expression uncharacteristically serious. "Rimuru. This slime... do you know who they are? What they are?"
"I was just starting to figure that out when you arrived," Rimuru admitted. "But Veldora, you recognize that plushie?"
"Recognize it?" Veldora laughed, but it was a hollow sound. "My brother made only one plushie like that. A perfect replica of himself, blessed with his own power to make it indestructible. He gave it to..."
The True Dragon trailed off, his golden eyes widening with realization.
"He gave it to someone he cared for deeply," Veldora finished quietly. "Someone who existed long before the world took its current shape. Someone my brother named personally."
The implications of that statement hit the room like a physical force.
Rimuru's voice was barely a whisper. "Veldanava personally named this slime?"
"If they possess that plushie, then yes," Veldora confirmed. "My brother was many things, but he never gave gifts lightly. Especially not something containing his own essence."
As if responding to the revelation, the blue slime began to shimmer once more, its form expanding and reshaping. Light enveloped the gelatinous body, and within moments, [M/n] had returned to his human form, the plushie once again clutched protectively in his arms.
His sky-blue eyes, still heavy with exhaustion, met Veldora's golden gaze without fear or reverence—only a quiet, ancient recognition.
"Hello, Veldora," [M/n] said, his voice soft and devoid of emotion. "It's been... a very long time."
Within Moments, The office had been cleared of all but the most essential personnel.
Rimuru sat behind his desk, with Veldora standing beside him. [M/n] had been provided a chair—which he'd immediately claimed, curling up in it with his plushie like a cat seeking maximum comfort with minimum effort—and those who remained (Benimaru, Shuna, Shion, Souei, and Hakurou) stood in respectful silence, waiting.
"So," Rimuru began, steepling his fingers. "I think we deserve some explanations. Starting with... well, everything."
[M/n] looked at him with that perpetual expression of calm detachment, his fingers absently stroking the plushie's lavender-blue hair. "What would you like to know?"
"How about we start with your age?" Rimuru suggested. "And your relationship with Veldanava?"
A faint smile—the first genuine expression anyone had seen from [M/n]—ghosted across his lips. "I'm approximately 40,000 years old. Give or take a few centuries. I stopped counting precisely around the 30,000-year mark. As for Veldanava..."
His eyes grew distant, looking at something beyond the walls of the office, beyond the present moment entirely.
"He found me when I was barely conscious—just a small, iridescent slime struggling to survive in a world that was still taking shape. Back then, the concept of 'monsters' as you know them didn't truly exist. There were only primordial forces, raw elements, and the occasional being who'd managed to gain sentience through sheer chance."
[M/n] hugged the plushie closer, his voice never rising above that same quiet, detached tone, though something subtle shifted in his expression—a shadow of something that might have been feeling.
"I don't know why he took interest in me. Maybe I amused him. Maybe he saw potential. Maybe he was simply lonely, being the Creator God with responsibilities too vast for anyone else to comprehend. But he found me, and he... chose to stay."
"He named you," Veldora said quietly. "That's not a small thing. Our brother rarely named anyone personally."
"He did," [M/n] confirmed. "He called me [M/n], and with that name came power, sentience, and... awareness. Awareness of just how vast and complex existence truly was. It was overwhelming."
Rimuru leaned forward, fascinated despite himself. "What was he like? Veldanava, I mean. All the stories paint him as this distant, all-powerful creator, but..."
"He was kind," [M/n] said simply. "Unbelievably kind, considering the power he wielded. He could have been tyrannical, could have ruled with absolute authority, but instead, he chose to observe, to guide gently, to create with love rather than domination."
The slime-turned-humanoid's gaze dropped to the plushie in his arms.
"He used to visit me regularly. We'd talk about his plans for the world, about the systems he was implementing, about the balance between order and chaos. Sometimes we'd just exist together in comfortable silence. He understood that I didn't require constant stimulation or entertainment. That I was content simply... being."
"And the plushie?" Shuna asked gently, her pink eyes soft with compassion.
[M/n]'s grip tightened imperceptibly. "A gift. Given to me roughly 38,000 years ago. He created it himself—a perfect replica of his human form, down to the smallest detail. He blessed it with a fragment of his power, making it indestructible, and told me..."
His voice, which had remained so carefully neutral, wavered almost imperceptibly.
"He told me that as long as I held it, a part of him would always be with me. That even when his duties called him away, even when he couldn't visit, I would never truly be alone."
The room had gone silent, everyone present recognizing that they were witnessing something profoundly personal.
"He based the human form template for evolved slimes on me," [M/n] continued, his tone returning to its usual flatness, though his fingers continued their soothing motion through the plushie's hair. "That's why Rimuru and I share similarities. Every slime that evolves enough to gain a human form will bear some resemblance to the template Veldanava established all those millennia ago."
"That's..." Rimuru shook his head in amazement. "That's incredible. But wait—if you're that old, and that powerful, why are you living such a... low-key existence here?"
For the first time, something that might have been amusement flickered in [M/n]'s eyes.
"Because," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "exerting effort is troublesome. I've lived for 40,000 years. I've seen empires rise and fall, watched continents shift, observed the birth and death of countless beings. I've witnessed wars that reshaped reality and peace that lasted millennia. And through it all, I've learned one fundamental truth."
He paused, his sky-blue eyes meeting Rimuru's directly.
"Most things people consider important... aren't. Most conflicts people wage wars over... don't matter in the grand scheme of existence. Most achievements people kill themselves striving for... are forgotten within a few centuries. So why waste energy on any of it? If I don't have to do it, I won't. But if I have to do it—if something genuinely requires my intervention—I'll make it quick and return to my preferred state of peaceful non-existence as soon as possible."
"That's..." Benimaru struggled for words. "That's incredibly depressing."
"That's realistic," [M/n] corrected without heat. "I'm not saying nothing matters. I'm saying most things don't matter as much as people think they do. The things that truly matter—genuine connections, moments of authentic peace, the feeling of comfort and safety—those are worth preserving. Everything else is just... noise."
Veldora had been quietly observing throughout this exchange, and now he spoke up, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "You loved my brother."
It wasn't a question.
[M/n] didn't confirm or deny it immediately. He simply sat there, stroking the plushie's hair with mechanical precision, his expression revealing nothing.
"Love is a complicated concept," he finally said. "Especially when one party is a literal god who created the universe, and the other is a slime who exists primarily to avoid exerting effort. But... yes. In whatever capacity I was capable of such an emotion, I... cared for him. Deeply."
"Does that mean..." Shion hesitated, clearly unsure if she should continue.
"It means," [M/n] said quietly, "that when Veldanava died, a part of me died with him. The part that believed effort might be worthwhile. The part that thought perhaps existence could be more than just a series of moments to endure between periods of sleep. He was the one thing—the one being—that made me want to be more than what I am."
His eyes closed, and for just a moment, vulnerability cracked through that carefully maintained mask of apathy.
"I felt it when it happened. The moment his essence dispersed back into the fabric of reality. It was like... like someone had extinguished a star that had been burning at the center of my world for thousands of years. Suddenly, everything was darker. Colder. More pointless than it had ever been before."
"[M/n]..." Rimuru began, but he didn't know what to say.
"It's fine," [M/n] said, his tone returning to that flat, emotionless quality. "It was a long time ago. I've had millennia to process it, to accept it, to move on. Or at least, to become numb to it. Same difference, really."
He opened his eyes again, and they were once more that calm, infinite daze that revealed nothing.
"After he died, I wandered. For thousands of years, I just... drifted. No purpose, no goal, just existing because ceasing to exist seemed like it would require too much effort. I slept for centuries at a time. Occasionally, I'd wake up, observe whatever new development had occurred in the world, determine it wasn't worth my attention, and go back to sleep."
"Then why come here?" Souei asked, his analytical mind seeking to understand. "Why the Jura Tempest Federation specifically?"
[M/n] turned his gaze to Rimuru, and for just a moment, something almost warm flickered in those blue depths.
"Because I sensed another slime who'd evolved. Another being who bore the template Veldanava created based on me. And I was... curious. Curious to see what kind of existence you'd build, Rimuru Tempest. Curious to see if perhaps this world had evolved into something that might have made Veldanava proud."
He looked around the office, at the diverse group of powerful beings who'd all sworn loyalty to a former human-turned-slime.
"And what I found was... interesting. A society built on coexistence rather than domination. A leader who values life and seeks to minimize conflict rather than glorifying it. A place where strength is used to protect rather than oppress. It's... not what I expected. It's better."
"So you decided to stay?" Rimuru asked.
"I decided it was less troublesome than leaving," [M/n] corrected. "And the beds here are comfortable. And no one bothers me unnecessarily. And sometimes, when I look at what you've built, I think... maybe Veldanava would have approved. Maybe he would have smiled at this strange little nation where a slime became a Chancellor and changed the world through kindness rather than conquest."
He hugged the plushie closer, his eyes growing distant once more.
"And sometimes, when I'm half-asleep, holding this plushie... I can almost feel him. Like he's there, stroking my head the way he used to when I'd curl up in his lap after expending too much energy. Like he's whispering that I did well, that I can rest now, that everything's going to be fine."
His voice had grown softer, almost vulnerable.
"It's not real, of course. Just my mind playing tricks on me, creating comfort where there is none. But it's... nice. It makes the act of continuing to exist slightly less pointless. So I stay here, in this comfortable place, with this comfortable life, holding onto this one precious thing that remains from a time when existence felt like it meant something."
The silence that followed was heavy with emotion.
Finally, Veldora spoke, his voice rough with feelings he clearly didn't know how to process.
"My brother was blessed to have known you," the True Dragon said. "And I think... I think he would be glad that you found a place like this. A place where you can rest without fear, where you're accepted without question, where you can just... be."
[M/n] looked at Veldora for a long moment, then gave a small nod—the closest thing to agreement he seemed capable of expressing.
"Perhaps," he said quietly. "Though I suspect he'd also lecture me about my lazy lifestyle and insist I try harder to engage with the world."
A genuine smile crossed Veldora's face. "That does sound like him."
"Which is precisely why I'm glad he's not here to do so," [M/n] replied, though there was the faintest hint of fondness in his tone. "I've perfected the art of minimal effort over 40,000 years. I'm not about to change now."
Despite the heavy emotions of the previous moments, several people in the room found themselves smiling at that.
"Well," Rimuru said, leaning back in his chair, "I think I can safely say this was not how I expected this morning to go. But [M/n], you're welcome to stay here as long as you want. No expectations, no obligations. Just... exist. Sleep. Hold your plushie. Live whatever kind of peaceful, low-effort life you want."
[M/n]'s eyes met his, and for just a moment, something genuinely grateful flickered in those blue depths.
"Thank you," he said simply.
Then he yawned—a jaw-cracking yawn that seemed to come from the very core of his being.
"Now, if we're done with this unexpectedly emotional conversation, I would very much like to return to bed. I was having a good dream before I was dragged here, and I'd like to see if I can get back to it."
"What were you dreaming about?" Shuna asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.
[M/n] stood, the plushie still clutched in his arms, and headed for the door. Just before leaving, he paused and looked back, his expression once again that infinite, peaceful daze.
"I was dreaming that Veldanava wasn't dead," he said quietly. "That he'd simply been away on a very long journey, and he'd finally come home. That he was there, real and solid and warm, telling me I'd done well, that he was proud of me, that I could rest now."
His fingers tightened on the plushie.
"It was a good dream," he repeated. "And I'd very much like to return to it, even though I know it's just fantasy. Because sometimes, fantasy is easier to bear than reality."
And with that, he left, his footsteps quiet and measured, conserving energy even in the simple act of walking.
The room remained silent for several moments after his departure.
"Well," Benimaru finally said, "that was..."
"Heartbreaking," Shuna finished softly.
"Enlightening," Souei corrected.
"All of the above," Rimuru said, running a hand through his hair. "Veldora, I have so many questions about your brother, but I think... I think they can wait."
The True Dragon nodded, his golden eyes still fixed on the door through which [M/n] had departed.
"He loved my brother more than he probably even realizes," Veldora said quietly. "And my brother loved him back, in his own way. Veldanava wasn't capable of loving anything halfway—it was all or nothing with him. If he gave that slime a piece of his own essence, if he created an entire template based on [M/n]'s form, if he visited regularly despite his cosmic responsibilities..."
The True Dragon's voice grew thick with emotion.
"Then [M/n] meant more to my brother than almost anything else in creation. And now he's gone, and [M/n] is left with nothing but memories and a plushie and 40,000 years of grief that he's too tired to properly process."
"We should do something," Shion said firmly. "We should help him!"
"We should let him be," Hakurou corrected gently. "That one has survived for 40 millennia by knowing his own limits and respecting them. If he wants help, he'll ask. Until then, the kindest thing we can do is exactly what Rimuru-sama offered—a safe place to exist without demands or expectations."
Rimuru nodded slowly. "Hakurou's right. [M/n] doesn't need us to fix him or save him or force him to engage with life. He just needs... space. Comfort. The freedom to sleep and dream and hold onto his memories without judgment."
He looked around at his subordinates, his expression serious.
"So that's what we'll give him. Spread the word—[M/n] is to be left alone unless he specifically seeks out interaction. No missions, no obligations, no expectations. He's earned his rest a thousand times over."
"Understood, Rimuru-sama," they chorused.
As the meeting dispersed and people began filing out, Veldora lingered, his expression thoughtful.
"Rimuru," he said quietly, "would you mind if I... checked on him occasionally? Not to bother him, just to... I don't know. My brother cared for him deeply, and I feel like I should..."
"Honor that connection?" Rimuru finished. "Of course, Veldora. I think [M/n] might appreciate it, actually. You're a link to Veldanava, after all. Just... be gentle, okay? He's more fragile than he appears."
"Aren't we all," Veldora murmured, and for once, the boisterous True Dragon seemed genuinely contemplative.
Later That night,
[M/n] lay in his bed, the Veldanava plushie held close to his chest. The moonlight filtered through his window, casting silver shadows across the room, and in the quiet darkness, he allowed himself to feel.
He closed his eyes and imagined—as he had countless times over the past several thousand years—that Veldanava was there. That he could feel those warm hands stroking through his hair, that familiar presence wrapping around him like the gentlest embrace.
"You did well," the imagined voice whispered, soft and filled with affection. "You survived, you persisted, you found a place where you can finally rest. I'm proud of you, my dear [M/n]."
"I miss you," [M/n] whispered back to the empty room, to the ghost that existed only in his mind. "Every day, every moment, I miss you. The world is so much colder without you in it."
"I know," the phantom voice replied. "But you're not alone anymore. You've found others—a community, friends, maybe even family if you allow it. Rimuru is good. Kind. He'll take care of you if you let him."
"I'm tired," [M/n] murmured, his grip tightening on the plushie. "So tired of existing without purpose, without meaning, without you."
"Then rest," Veldanava's imagined voice soothed, and [M/n] could almost—almost—feel those gentle fingers running through his hair. "Rest, my precious one. Dream of better times. Dream of when we'll meet again, in whatever form existence takes beyond this one. Dream, and know that somewhere, somehow, I'm still with you."
Tears—the first [M/n] had allowed himself to shed in centuries—slipped silently down his cheeks and disappeared into his pillow.
"I love you," he whispered to the ghost, to the memory, to the indestructible plushie that held a fragment of the Star King's essence. "I will always love you, even if it hurts, even if it's pointless, even if you're gone forever."
And in the darkness of his room, in the safety of his bed, [M/n] allowed himself to believe—just for a moment—that somewhere in the vast tapestry of existence, Veldanava heard him.
That somewhere, the Star King smiled.
And that someday, when [M/n]'s incredibly long life finally reached its end, they would meet again.
But until then, he would do what he did best.
He would rest.
He would dream.
And he would hold onto the one precious thing that remained from a time when existence had felt like it meant something.
Bonus[Extra Drabble]
Morning came far too quickly for [M/n]'s liking.
Sunlight filtered through the nearby window in gentle golden streams, painting patterns across the wooden floor of his modest room. Outside, the soft chirping of birds heralded the new day with their cheerful songs, while the early hustles of street vendors setting up their stalls created a distant symphony of clattering wood and friendly greetings.
The Jura Tempest Federation was waking up, full of life and purpose and forward motion.
And [M/n] lay motionless upon his bed, staring at nothing in particular.
The Veldanava plushie was still clutched against his chest, his arms wrapped around it in a grip that had remained unchanged throughout the night. His pale blue hair spread across the pillow like spilled water, and his sky-blue eyes—those infinite, dazed eyes—gazed unfocused at the ceiling above.
The tear streaks upon his cheeks had long dried since they fell the night before, leaving faint salt trails on his pale skin.
But for some reason, they began to fall again.
Fresh tears welled up in his eyes, spilling over without his permission, tracing new paths down his face. They came silently, without sobs or gasps or any of the dramatic expressions of grief that others might display. Just quiet, persistent tears that fell and fell and fell, no matter how much [M/n] willed them to stop.
Stop, he commanded himself, his internal voice flat and emotionless even as his body betrayed him. This is pointless. Crying changes nothing. He's been gone for thousands of years. You've already processed this. You've already accepted it. Stop.
But the tears didn't stop.
If anything, they fell faster, warm against his cold skin, gathering at his jaw before dripping onto the pillow beneath his head.
[M/n] tried to hold them in—tried to force his body to obey the iron will that had kept him functioning for 40,000 years. He squeezed his eyes shut, clenched his jaw, took slow, measured breaths designed to suppress any emotion that dared to surface.
But it didn't work.
The tears fell anyway, and with them came a question that had haunted him for millennia. A question Veldanava himself had posed, thousands upon thousands of years ago, when [M/n] had been confused about the strange, uncomfortable sensations that arose whenever the Star King left after a visit.
"Do you know what you are, my dear [M/n]?" Veldanava had asked, his lavender-blue hair catching the light of a sunset that had occurred before the current continents had even formed. They'd been sitting together on what would eventually become a mountain range, watching as the world slowly took shape according to the Creator God's design.
"I'm a slime," [M/n] had answered, because it had seemed like the obvious response. "An evolved slime. The first of my kind to achieve sentience and a human form."
Veldanava had smiled—that gentle, knowing smile that suggested he understood something [M/n] had yet to grasp.
"You are that, yes. But you're also something more complicated. Something I didn't entirely intend when I named you, but something that emerged nonetheless."
He'd reached out, his hand warm against [M/n]'s head as he ran his fingers through pale blue hair.
"You have the heart of a human," Veldanava had said softly. "Vast enough to feel the full spectrum of emotions, deep enough to form genuine connections, capable of love and loss and all the beautiful, terrible things that come with truly caring about something beyond yourself."
[M/n] had frowned, not understanding. "But I'm not human. I'm a monster."
"And therein lies the tragedy," Veldanava had replied, his expression turning sad. "Because while you have a human's heart—a human's capacity for feeling—you have a monster's body and a monster's nature. Monsters experience emotions differently than humans. They feel things in the moment, intensely and immediately, but they also process and move on more quickly. Their grief is sharp but short. Their joy is bright but fleeting."
The Star King's hand had moved to cup [M/n]'s cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear that [M/n] hadn't even realized had fallen.
"But you, my precious one, you have a heart that feels like a human while existing in a body that processes like a monster. Your heart is vast enough to feel everything—every loss, every longing, every ache of absence—but it's too slow to catch up with the reality your monster nature tries to impose. You feel things deeply, but you struggle to acknowledge them in the moment. You experience love, but you can't always recognize it until it's already passed."
"I don't understand," [M/n] had whispered, confusion and something that might have been fear coloring his normally flat tone.
"You will," Veldanava had said, and his smile had been heartbreaking in its gentleness. "Someday, perhaps when I'm no longer here to explain it, you'll understand. You'll feel something so profoundly that it breaks through that careful numbness you wrap around yourself. And when it finally catches up to you—when your heart finally processes what it's been feeling all along—it will hurt. It will hurt more than anything you've experienced before."
"Then why give me this heart?" [M/n] had asked, and for once, there had been genuine emotion in his voice—anger, frustration, fear all tangled together. "Why curse me with feelings I can't properly process? Why make me something that exists between two states, fitting perfectly into neither?"
Veldanava had pulled him close, wrapping him in an embrace that had felt like coming home.
"Because," the Star King had whispered, "a heart that can feel so deeply, even if it's slow to recognize its own emotions, is precious beyond measure. It means that when you do finally acknowledge what you're feeling, it's real. Genuine. Uncorrupted by impulse or momentary passion. Your love, when you finally recognize it as love, is eternal. Your grief, when it finally catches up to you, is proof that what you lost mattered."
"That sounds terrible," [M/n] had muttered into Veldanava's chest.
"It is," Veldanava had agreed. "But it's also beautiful. You are beautiful, [M/n]. Every contradictory, confusing part of you."
Now, lying in his bed some 38,000 years after that conversation, [M/n] finally—finally—understood what Veldanava had meant.
Because the tears were still falling.
Because his chest ached with a pain that felt fresh despite occurring millennia ago.
Because his heart was finally, finally catching up to the reality that his mind had accepted thousands of years prior.
Veldanava was gone.
Not temporarily. Not away on some cosmic journey. Not busy with the responsibilities of maintaining creation.
Gone.
Dead. Dispersed. Returned to the fabric of reality from which he'd emerged.
And [M/n] loved him.
Loved him.
Present tense, because apparently his stupid, slow, human-like heart hadn't gotten the memo that you were supposed to use past tense for people who'd been dead for thousands of years.
He loved Veldanava with a depth and intensity that terrified him. Loved him the way continents loved the earth they rested upon—fundamental, unchangeable, eternal. Loved him the way stars loved the void—desperately, completely, with a brightness that would persist long after the star itself had burned out.
And he'd never properly acknowledged it.
Not when Veldanava was alive. Not during those countless visits when the Star King would sit with him, talk with him, hold him. Not when Veldanava would stroke his hair and call him precious and look at him like he was something more valuable than all of creation.
[M/n] had felt it—of course he'd felt it. His vast, human-like heart had been screaming it with every interaction, every touch, every moment of comfortable silence they'd shared.
But his monster nature, his instinct to remain detached and uncommitted, had prevented him from recognizing it for what it was.
Until now.
Until 40,000 years of accumulated grief had finally, finally caught up with his slow-processing heart.
"I love you," [M/n] whispered to the empty room, to the plushie in his arms, to the ghost of a god who would never hear him. "I love you, I love you, I love you."
The words came easier now, tumbling out between silent sobs that shook his frame.
"I loved you then, even though I didn't understand it. I loved you when you named me, when you gave me this form, when you created an entire template based on my appearance because you wanted other slimes to have the chance to be as beautiful as you thought I was."
His grip on the plushie tightened until his knuckles went white.
"I loved you when you visited me, when you held me, when you explained the complexities of existence with a patience that suggested you had infinite time to spend with one confused slime who couldn't properly express his feelings."
The tears were falling faster now, hot and relentless.
"I loved you when you gave me this plushie, when you blessed it with your essence, when you promised that part of you would always be with me even when you had to leave."
A sound escaped his throat—something between a gasp and a sob, foreign and frightening in its rawness.
"And I loved you when you died. When I felt your essence scatter across creation. When the star at the center of my world extinguished and left me in darkness."
"I've loved you every moment since then. Every century of wandering. Every millennium of sleeping to avoid the emptiness. Every time I've woken up and had to remember that you're gone."
"I love you NOW, in the present, in this moment, with a heart that's FINALLY caught up to what it's been feeling for 40,000 years."
The words dissolved into incoherent sounds—quiet, broken noises that [M/n] had never allowed himself to make before. His carefully maintained composure, his practiced apathy, his determination to expend minimal effort on emotions that couldn't change anything—all of it crumbled in the face of grief that had been delayed by tens of thousands of years.
This was what Veldanava had tried to warn him about.
This was the price of having a human heart in a monster's body.
This was what happened when reality finally, brutally, inescapably caught up.
[M/n] curled around the plushie, making himself as small as possible, as if he could somehow fold into the blessed item and disappear into whatever fragment of Veldanava's essence remained within it.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I'm sorry I didn't understand what I was feeling until it was too late. I'm sorry I wasted all that time being confused and detached when I could have been honest."
"I'm sorry I'm only now grieving properly, thousands of years after you died. I'm sorry my heart is so slow. I'm sorry I'm so broken."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
The morning continued around him, indifferent to his breakdown. The sun kept rising. The birds kept singing. The vendors kept setting up their stalls. The Jura Tempest Federation kept living and breathing and moving forward.
And [M/n] lay in his bed, finally—finally—allowing himself to feel the full weight of a loss that had occurred before some of the current civilizations had even begun to form.
His monster nature screamed at him to stop, to compose himself, to return to that comfortable numbness that had allowed him to function for so long.
But his human heart—that vast, slow, impossibly deep human heart—refused to obey.
Because it had finally caught up to reality.
And reality was this: He had loved someone with every fiber of his being. That someone was gone. And no amount of sleeping, or wandering, or pretending not to care could change either of those facts.
The tears continued to fall, soaking into the plushie's lavender-blue hair, creating dark spots on the pristine white fabric of its robes.
And for the first time in 40,000 years, [M/n] allowed himself to truly, completely, devastatingly grieve.
Not with the sharp, immediate pain of a monster's fresh loss.
But with the deep, endless, ocean-like sorrow of a human heart that had finally acknowledged what it had been carrying all along.
"You have the heart of a human," Veldanava's voice echoed in his memory. "Vast enough to feel, but too slow to catch up with reality. And you have the body of a monster—unable to experience love and feel it in the moment, unable to acknowledge it until it's already become a scar."
"When your heart finally catches up," the Star King had whispered all those millennia ago, "it will hurt. But that hurt will prove that what you felt was real. That what you lost mattered. That you are capable of love so profound it transcends time itself."
"And that, my dear [M/n], is the most beautiful curse I could have ever given you."
In his bed, [M/n] finally understood.
And he wept.
Heheh... Does anyone make the Link between the Header and the Plot... No? Just me...
