I sat on the blood-soaked stone, legs crossed, chin in hand, staring at the spot where the "Evil God" had died.
No resistance. No second phase. Just… pop.
A sting. A splatter. A god no more.
Too easy.
That's when the unease started. Not fear—dread. The kind that crept up when things worked too well.
I glanced at the broken bones nearby, flexed my fingers, and checked the readings on my aura—still Hollowed, still Void-touched. Still me. But he had those powers, too. Powers only I should have.
So I did the only reasonable thing: I packaged his head in a void-sealed cube, slapped a glowing "HANDLE WITH EXISTENTIAL CARE" tag on it, and mailed it to Rimuru. Some blood samples went to Noah. I made sure to include a skull-scented snack cake for context.
Then I sat. And waited.
And right on cue, my comms flared up.
[Slime are Cute]: Grey, give us *one* reason not to kill you right now.
[The Queen of Jellyfish]: Why are you angry? It's been an hour since I mailed you the head.
[Slime are Cute]: I don't know, maybe it's because you *mailed me a ten-year-old's head.*
[Slime are Cute]: I was in the cafeteria, with kids. We were teaching one of the newbies—Touri, the one with the [God of Firearms X] trait. You know, the split personality that turns her into a hyper-lethal megasniper if she sneezes wrong.
[The Queen of Jellyfish]: Oh yeah, I remember her.
[Slime are Cute]: Well, she was making progress... until your head-in-a-box screamed at her psychically. She went full blackout mode and started reciting bullet equations in Latin.
[The Queen of Jellyfish]: Oops. But hey, I labeled it.
There was a long pause.
[The Queen of Jellyfish]: Listen, that was the head of an evil god who called me "Mother." I need to know where he came from. What he was. Why did he have *my powers?*
The group chat went deathly quiet.
Even Noah stopped typing.
Until, finally...
[Admin][Moon Genera]: Ah~ Congratulations.
[Everyone]: SHUT UP, AKAKO.
I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose, brushing off dried blood with a tentacle.
[The Queen of Jellyfish]: Look. If that thing was *mine*... even partly... I need answers. So please, *someone* analyze the DNA, divine the timeline, hack the reincarnation logs, *something.*
A beat later.
[Slime are Cute]: Understood. Initiating genealogical trace. Warning: multiple conflicting reality markers. High temporal distortion. The subject was artificially grown—spliced from a Hollowed Demi-Core.
[The Queen of Jellyfish]: Meaning?
[Slime are Cute]: Meaning someone tried to *grow* a version of you. But accelerated. Damaged. Incomplete.
My breath caught. The wind around me stopped.
A failed clone?
A stolen soul scrap?
Or something worse?
Then, from the chat...
[Slime are Cute]: Grey... this may not be the only one.
[The Queen of Jellyfish]: I know.
I stood, cloak rising like wings.
Far in the north, the ice cracked.
[Slime are Cute]: Grey, don't worry… apparently those clones are only 50% you and 50% something else.
There was a beat of silence. I already didn't like where this was going.
[Slime are Cute]: Grey… are you a man?
[The Queen of Jellyfish]: I'm a woman, Rimuru.
[Slime are Cute]: Yeah, uh, about that… the clone's DNA profile is showing a fusion. Female core traits, but the *dominant gene structure* is artificial, and male. You're not *actually* a guy, but your DNA was used as the male base for an artificial template.
[The Queen of Jellyfish]: Wait—*I* was the "male donor" in this freak project?!
[Slime are Cute]: Technically yes. Someone tried to "father" an entire species using you as the base genome. Spliced with artificial void-accelerated code, probably to stabilize the Hollowed factors.
[The Queen of Jellyfish]: ...I want to burn someone alive.
[Slime are Cute]: It gets worse.
Oh joy.
[Slime are Cute]: These clones have a 1% chance of surviving past the embryonic stage without your DNA being constantly present in their environment. If they do survive… the Hollowed instability drives them mad. Most self-destruct.
[The Queen of Jellyfish]: So all of these "children"… are doomed.
[Slime are Cute]: Yes. Unless you find a way to stabilize them or stop their creation.
I sat back down, the weight of a billion broken souls slamming into my chest.
[The Queen of Jellyfish]: How many...?
[Slime are Cute]: Look at the head again. There's a number burned into the bone at the back.
I picked up the void-sealed cube and looked.
"345,554,333 / 1B"
A number. A tracking code. An admission.
They made over a billion.
Over a billion possible lives—lives made from me, twisted, broken, destined to die screaming.
And one of them called me "Mother."
[The Queen of Jellyfish]: Who made them?
I stood, fire coiling behind my eyes, void shimmering across my skin.
A billion failed lives.
A billion broken minds.
And whoever made them… did it in my name.
[Slime are Cute]: Yes?
[The Queen of Jellyfish]: I may go dark for a few hours.
I know who made the clones.
And he's already dead.
So how the void did they show up here? Did they crawl out of my stomach?
I clenched my jaw, a bitter taste forming as a familiar name echoed in my head.
[Grey]: Even in death, that golden-ass bastard keeps causing problems.
He's the only other one who ever had my blood… because Kicked my ass more then one time.
With a flick of my hand, a portal tore open—blacker than space, deeper than any abyss.
I stepped into the Void.
It greeted me like an old scar.
My senses stretched into the chaos, guided by something deeper than memory—instinct, instinct born from the thing I consumed. From him. Even dead, his presence bled through this place.
Then I found it.
I found where the clones came from.
And I immediately wished I hadn't.
[Grey]: Mother of—
I dropped to my knees and vomited. I didn't even know I could still puke. The sight in front of me wasn't a lab. It was a womb, a birthing ground made of wires, golden muscle, and teeth—all pulsing with that cursed yellow glow.
Endless vats. Rows of artificial wombs. A choir of infant screams, looping like a broken hymn.
It was a temple built from the corpse of that golden freak, now turned into a factory, still birthing my twisted children long after his death.
I screamed.
And then I burned it.
With Hollowed fire, cosmic venom, and the very wrath that made my name feared across dimensions, I annihilated the golden remains and consumed every trace of it. But the stench, the yellow light, the guilt?
They lingered.
I stumbled back to my domain, mental scars fresh and bleeding.
I collapsed onto my couch.
One of the little ones—the one with the X pupils and wolf ears—crawled onto my lap. He looked up at me with innocent eyes and a smile like moonlight.
For a moment, I just stared.
Then I saw it.
Etched into the skin behind his neck, like a cursed barcode:
"666,667,696 / 1B"
That number confirmed it. He was one of them. Born from that horror show. Another broken miracle.
My hand drifted to his neck. One clean touch, and I could end it. A mercy.
But then he giggled.
His tiny hands reached up and touched my face. No fear. No hate. Just that pure, gut-wrenching trust.
I froze.
And then I pulled him into my arms.
And I hugged him. Hard.
Not as a queen. Not as a killer. Not as a monster.
But as a mother. Ok, now that the drama is out of the way, I go to Dave and claim my new lands
[Time skip: Drama cooldown complete]
With the emotional breakdown and clone-kid revelations neatly tucked away in the back of my mind (along with several trauma boxes labeled DO NOT OPEN), I flew to the Empire capital to meet Dave.
I claimed my reward—coastal territory ripe for terraforming and twisted divine intervention.
Within days, I populated it with newly created jellyfish demi-humans, each blessed with distinct evolutions: some were fused with dragon blood, others with elemental cores, void fragments, or rare sea beast spirits.
To ensure stability, I set the minimum level at 40, and the highest at 80—my Royal Guard, hand-selected to protect the three little nightmares I now proudly call "My successors." Don't ask why. It's cute and confusing, like most of my decisions.
I built a city—a pearl of beauty and terror.
Crafted from coral and shimmering marble, the city straddled sea and land, a half-submerged sanctuary of towers, glowing flora, and singing abyssal lights.
At its heart stood my royal castle, forged from black coral, a material I found… somewhere. I can't remember. Might've been inside a kraken's pancreas. Still worth it.
Best part?
The three midges—X-eyes, Floaty, and Table-Biter—were declared stable. Thanks to their unique blend of voidblood and my residual divinity, their bodies won't randomly detonate anymore. They've settled at a body age of 10 and mental age around 20+, meaning they can now grow up like relatively normal walking apocalypses.
Everything was finally peaceful.
Time for my reward: a lazy life.
[10 minutes later]
I yeeted myself out of the castle window.
Why?
Because the paperwork had mutated into a living entity. Ammar was already screaming in six languages, and the kids were drawing tactical diagrams on royal decrees.
I jumped into a portal without thinking.
And emerged in Tempest.
[Rimuru]: Grey. Good to have you here in Tempest. But tell me honestly…
Are you here to help—or to create catastrophic nonsense again?
I blinked.
Grinned.
And summoned three floating chairs, a bouquet of sea slugs, and a slightly confused abyssal shark holding a cake.
[Grey]: Why not both?
[Extra: The Three Little Disasters]
Mother never gave us real names.
She just called us:
X-eyes (me), Floaty, and Table-Biter (he earned it).
We didn't mind. It felt... personal, in her weird, monstrous, horrifyingly tender way.
But today, I was frustrated.
[X-eyes]: How does Mother open portals like blinking? I can't even make a proper hole in reality without summoning screaming geometry…
I glared at my half-drawn circle of abyssal glyphs, then tossed the scroll into the trash void.
The trash void suddenly sucked me in.
When I blinked again, I was sitting at a quaint table in a sunlit café with fresh pastries, a calming fountain nearby, and a very loud little girl with red eyes and even more red explosions.
[Klee]: Hi! You look funny! Wanna try my new bomb cookie? It only explodes sometimes!
I looked around, trying to breathe. Where the Void was I? My aura was out of sync, the gravity felt whimsical, and there were rules about "not fishing with live grenades."
Court of Fontaine.
A city of elegance, drama, and judgment.
Also, somehow hosting a fire-based gremlin child.
[X-eyes]: …Is this place real?
[Klee]: Yep! Wanna meet my big brother? He's a grump, but he has a sword!
Back at the coral city…
Floaty had drifted through six walls.
Table-Biter had chewed through a ceremonial spear.
Ammar was reading a royal document upside-down and muttering,
[Ammar]: Why is it quiet? They're too quiet. Something terrible is happening.
[Chapter end]
[Need names for the three gremlins]
[Note: I have pretty important exams by the end of the week, so I have to go on a hiatus until the end of the month, also the vote ends at the end of this month ]