The moon hung high, casting a pale silver glow over the goblin village. Crude wooden barricades formed makeshift walls, sharpened sticks and jagged planks hammered together in desperate defense. Goblins stood in ragged lines, clutching rusted weapons with trembling hands. But they weren't alone.
At their center stood Rimuru Tempest, calm and unreadable.
Then—
HOOOWWWL!
A 's cry shattered the silence. From the shadows of the trees, they emerged — huge, fanged, and furious. The first wave charged, eyes gleaming with hunger.
But the goblins didn't scatter.
Arrows loosed from their shaky bows struck down some of the wolves. Others stumbled into nearly invisible tripwires — sharpened silk threads strung between stakes — slicing through fur and flesh.
The Direwolf boss growled, stepping forward. Muscles coiled. Rage brimming.
He opened his maw to speak—
—and then paused.
A strange sound fluttered through the air. Not growling. Not howling.
Flapping.
Dozens of brightly colored birds streaked across the moonlit sky like falling stars. At their front was a single, small bird — a Pipit — wings spread, feathers shimmering in defiance.
That was me.
I darted above the battlefield and zipped past the Direwolf boss, hovering just behind him. He swung at me instinctively, missing by inches — the arc of his strike slamming into several of the Velstryxes who'd dared to follow me.
He howled again, this time with fury and fear. The magic in his cry blasted outward like a shockwave — and some of the weaker birds shattered mid-flight, their minds overwhelmed by the sheer killing intent.
Even I trembled… but not enough to fall.
The fight between Rimuru and the boss escalated. The wolf leapt, claws extended to tear into the slime.
Mid-air, Rimuru caught him — magic binding him in place. The beast snarled and thrashed, suspended like a puppet on tangled strings.
"You damned slime!" the boss howled. "I'll tear you to pieces when I—grrrgh—break out of this!"
Rimuru's body shifted. Gelatinous limbs pulled back, forming a blade of compressed water. Then—
Slice.
The blade sang through the air.
A clean cut.
The Direwolf's head hit the ground before his body even collapsed.
From the trees, two birds watched it all unfold: a soot-black crow and a wind-streaked Pipit.
"That," I said with a satisfied chirp, "was for earlier."
The crow turned to me, eyes wide with awe. "I… I don't know what to say. Thank you, sir Windrunner. I beg you — please, let me and my family serve under you. We'd be honored."
I waved it off. "Hey, it's all good. I wouldn't mind a helping wing. But it's a given I'd help. We're both children of the sky, aren't we? Why let others clip our wings?"
The crow bowed low — and then, to my surprise, burst into sobs.
"You're the best, boss!" he chirped, wrapping his feathery wings around me like a sobbing toddler.
"Y-yeah, yeah…" I muttered, awkwardly patting his back with a wing. "Don't get snot on my feathers."