Ultimate Spin System: Ero Spin?-Chapter 138: Rest

The sun dipped lower into the horizon, casting long shadows across the dense foliage of the ancient forest. The caravan came to a gradual halt, and the air was thick with the mingling scents of damp earth, fresh pine, and the lingering warmth of the day.

Sylmara stood at the forefront, her posture poised yet commanding. She turned, her sharp gaze scanning over the gathered elves before finally settling on the rest of the group. "We will rest here for the night," she announced, her tone leaving no room for discussion.

The elves moved with fluid efficiency, setting up their designated resting area with practiced ease. The monsters, however, were not given the same courtesy. They lingered at the edges of the clearing, awaiting further instruction, their presence an unspoken tension that weighed on the air.

Lucas remained seated on a fallen log beside M’baku, who was sharpening his blade with slow, deliberate strokes. The beastman didn’t look up, but his ears twitched at the approaching footsteps.

Sylmara stopped before them, arms crossed. "You and your... kind will stay away from us," she stated, her voice laced with open disdain. "The elves will not share their space with creatures of your ilk."

Lucas sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Seriously?"

M’baku growled lowly, his grip tightening on the hilt of his weapon. "You—"

Lucas lifted a hand, cutting him off before he could escalate things further. He knew that arguing with Sylmara was as pointless as trying to reason with a storm.

"It’s fine," Lucas said, rising to his feet. "We’ll camp with our own."

Sylmara’s lips curled ever so slightly. "Good. At least you understand your place."

Lucas didn’t rise to the bait, but he felt M’baku bristle beside him. The beastman’s muscles tensed, his claws flexing at his sides. "Lucas, let me—"

"No," Lucas said firmly. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. "It’s not worth it."

M’baku gritted his teeth, exhaling sharply through his nose. The tension in his shoulders remained, but he relented. Barely.

Lucas turned back to Sylmara. "We’ll keep to ourselves. You don’t need to worry about us."

She gave him a look of mild approval, as if acknowledging his obedience. "See that you do," she said before turning on her heel and walking back toward the elven camp.

As soon as she was out of earshot, M’baku let out a frustrated growl. "Why do you let her speak like that? She looks down on us as if we are nothing."

Lucas shook his head. "Because arguing won’t change her mind. And getting into a fight over something this stupid? Not worth it."

M’baku scoffed, but his expression was still dark. "One day, she will push too far."

"Maybe," Lucas admitted. "But not today."

The monster camp was smaller, less refined than the elves’—a few makeshift fire pits, simple bedrolls laid across the grass. It lacked the seamless grace of the elves’ setup, but it had something else: camaraderie. The monsters didn’t shun each other. There were no invisible lines drawn between them.

Lucas sat near one of the fires, stretching his legs as the warmth seeped into his skin. Around him, the monsters settled in—beastmen, orcs, reptilians, and more, each different but bound by a shared exile from the so-called "civilized" races.

He could feel their eyes on him. He wasn’t one of them, not exactly, but he had earned enough of their respect that they accepted his presence.

M’baku sat beside him, still seething but silent.

Lucas exhaled, watching the flames dance.

This world had its own rules. Its own prejudices.

And if he was going to survive, if he was going to carve a place for himself...

He would have to learn how to play the game.

A soft squelching sound broke the lingering tension.

Lucas glanced to the side just in time to see a translucent blue blob bouncing toward him with unrestrained excitement. The little slime wobbled as it landed on the ground beside him, then bounced again—higher this time—before landing directly on his lap with a delighted plop!

"Master! Master!" the slime’s voice rang in his mind, bubbling with pure joy. "You saved me! You saved me from being lonely forever!"

Lucas blinked, then chuckled. "Did I now?"

The slime wiggled happily, its body shifting like gelatin, as if nodding furiously. "Yes! Yes! Before I met you, I was always alone! No one wanted to stay with a slime! But now I have you! And M’baku! And everyone!"

M’baku, still brooding from his earlier frustration, let out a low huff but didn’t push the slime away. "Tch. You’re too loud, little one."

The slime didn’t seem to care. It bounced in place, its voice practically sparkling. "I don’t mind being loud! I’m happy! Master is the best!"

Lucas smiled, a genuine warmth spreading through him. It was rare—this kind of pure, unfiltered affection. Most creatures in this world saw relationships in terms of strength, gain, and survival. But this little slime? It simply wanted to belong.

Lucas reached out and gently patted its wobbly surface. The slime shivered in delight, its body rippling under his touch.

"I’m glad you’re here too," Lucas said softly.

The slime let out a high-pitched, giddy noise before nestling deeper into his lap, as if it had just found the safest place in the world.

M’baku glanced at them, shaking his head. "I swear, sometimes I wonder if you’re too soft, Lord."

Lucas only chuckled. "Maybe."

Lucas leaned back slightly, feeling the comforting warmth of the fire against his skin. The little slime on his lap wobbled contentedly, its translucent form shifting ever so slightly with each subtle movement.

After a moment of silence, Lucas raised an eyebrow and asked, "Hey, little one... why do you call me Master?"

The slime bounced once, as if excited to answer. "Because all the other monsters call you Lord!"

Lucas blinked. "And?"

The slime wiggled happily. "I wanted to be different! ’Lord’ sounds... far away. But ’Master’ sounds closer! I want to be close to you, Master!"

M’baku snorted, crossing his arms. "Hah. The little one has strange logic, but at least it’s honest."

Lucas chuckled, shaking his head. "So you just picked it because it sounded more personal?"

"Yes!" the slime replied cheerfully. "I want to be the closest to Master! Is that okay?"

Lucas couldn’t help but laugh. The little creature was so simple, so pure in its reasoning. There was no manipulation, no hidden agenda—just a small being who wanted to stay by his side.

"Yeah, it’s okay," Lucas said, ruffling the slime’s gelatinous surface. "You can call me whatever you want."

The slime let out a delighted squish! and snuggled deeper into his lap, vibrating with joy.

M’baku sighed, shaking his head in mock exasperation. "You’re too soft, Lord. First a ragtag group of monsters, now a clingy little slime?"

Lucas smirked. "What can I say? I have a way with strays."

The fire crackled, the soft murmurs of monsters filling the night air.

And for the first time in a while, Lucas felt a little lighter.

A sudden, thunderous impact shattered the calm of the night.

The ground trembled beneath Lucas as the unmistakable sound of metal striking earth echoed through the forest. The crackling of the fire was drowned out by the rhythmic clanking of heavy footsteps—precise, mechanical, and unmistakably foreign to this world of swords and sorcery.

Lucas’s body tensed, his instincts flaring.

That sound.

It was too familiar.

He turned sharply, his eyes widening as the towering silhouettes emerged from the shadows beyond the clearing.

Mechas.

Massive, humanoid machines, their metallic frames gleaming faintly under the moonlight. They stood in rigid formation, their mechanical joints hissing softly as they adjusted their posture. Some were humanoid, others bulkier, with mounted weaponry that looked far too advanced for a world steeped in magic.

Lucas’s breath hitched.

How?

How the hell were there mechs here?

The monsters around him bristled, their gazes filled with a mixture of confusion and hostility. M’baku immediately reached for his blade, his instincts screaming of danger.

Before anyone could react, a booming, mechanical voice echoed from the lead mech.

"Who is in charge here?"

Silence fell over the camp. The monsters exchanged wary glances, but no one stepped forward.

Lucas exhaled slowly, pushing down his shock. If no one spoke up, things could escalate. And right now, they didn’t need a fight—especially not against whatever this was.

With measured steps, he moved forward, keeping his expression calm. "That would be me."

There was a brief pause. Then, with a soft hiss, the cockpit of the leading mech slid open. A figure dropped down from the towering frame, landing lightly on the dirt.

The pilot stood tall, clad in a sleek black bodysuit reinforced with plates of metallic armor. A visor obscured most of his face, but when he took a step forward, the moonlight revealed his features—a hardened man, his expression unreadable yet keenly observant.

He studied Lucas for a moment before finally speaking.

"Interesting. It’s rare to see a human living among monsters."

Lucas’s brow furrowed. "And you are?"

The pilot gave a small, almost amused tilt of his head. "We are a patrol unit of the Oblivion Empire."

Lucas’s mind reeled. That name—he had never heard of it before, the area that ruled by tyrant. But the technology, the structured military presence—this wasn’t something that belonged in a land of magic and medieval kingdoms.

Just what the hell was going on here?

The pilot took another step forward, lowering his voice slightly. "And you, traveler... I assume you are not from around here?"