Yamada sat on his so-called throne—a pile of rocks held together by wishful thinking. The goblins bustled around, setting up what could generously be called a village. [clatter clatter]

  “So,” he said, watching them hammer sticks into the ground, “this is my life now?”

  Celia, now untied but still blindfolded, sat nearby. “You seem dissatisfied, Your Majesty.”

  “First of all, don’t call me that.”

  “But you are the Slime King.”

  “Yeah, but it feels weird.” He sighed. “Like, five hours ago, I was a guy who bought convenience store rice balls on the way home from work. Now I have minions?”

  She tilted her head. “Does that bother you?”

  “…No?” He wasn’t sure. It was just happening too fast. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, I just—”

  “Your Majesty!” A goblin ran up, panting. [huff huff] “Trouble!”

  “What now?” Yamada groaned. “Did someone stub their toe?”

  “No! A rival tribe approaches! They heard of your power and want to challenge you!”

  Yamada’s stomach—if he had one—sank. “Hold on. Challenge? Like, fight?”

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  “Yes! A duel! Their leader demands combat with the great Slime King!”

  [crackle crackle]

  The trees at the edge of the clearing shook. Something massive stomped into view. A towering, muscle-bound hobgoblin covered in scars, wielding a club the size of Yamada’s entire body. His eyes locked onto Yamada with pure murder intent.

  “I am Grok! Strongest warrior of the Bloodfang Tribe!” The hobgoblin pounded his chest. [boom boom] “I will crush you and take your kingdom!”

  Yamada swallowed. “Uh. Hey, man, let’s not be hasty—”

  “Silence! Fight or surrender!”

  Yamada’s brain scrambled for a plan. He had no combat skills. No magic. No way to win a fight.

  Wait. No, that wasn’t true.

  He had bullshit.

  He puffed himself up—or at least wobbled slightly—and said, “You dare challenge me? Do you have a death wish?”

  Grok blinked. “Hah?”

  “I am Yamada, the Immortal Slime King. I cannot be harmed. Any attack against me will—uh—reflect back tenfold!”

  Silence. The goblins gasped. [gasp gasp]

  Celia raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.”

  Grok frowned. “That… is impossible.”

  “Is it?” Yamada stared him down. “Go ahead. Hit me. If you’re feeling lucky.”

  The hobgoblin hesitated. He gripped his club, muscles flexing. Then he swung.

  [whoosh]

  Yamada braced for impact. The club smashed down on him—

  —and bounced off.

  [boing]

  The force rebounded straight into Grok’s face. [smack] The hobgoblin staggered back, blood dripping from his nose.

  The crowd erupted.

  “Did you see that?!”

  “His power is real!”

  “The Slime King is unstoppable!”

  Even Grok looked shaken. “Tch… Fine. I acknowledge your might.” He fell to one knee. “I surrender. The Bloodfang Tribe will serve you, great Slime King.”

  Yamada blinked. “Huh?”

  Celia smirked. “Congratulations, Your Majesty. You won.”

  “…I did?”

  The goblins erupted into cheers. [cheer cheer]

  Yamada sat there, stunned. This was actually working?

  He slumped back onto his throne. “I need a nap.”

  Celia chuckled. “You’ll need more than that. Your legend is only beginning.”