The first year of Rimuru City's rebirth was a relentless march of labor. Each sunrise brought new piles of cleared rubble, each sunset revealed another section of the wall's foundation laid. The villagers, once broken, now moved with a determined rhythm, a quiet pride in their eyes. My ministers, from Miles diligently organizing work teams to Elara tirelessly tending to the sick, performed their duties with a loyalty that humbled me. Yet, a gnawing anxiety persisted. The mana stone veins we had found were merely small pockets, a tantalizing hint of the vast treasure below. And the peace we enjoyed, a mere year old, felt thin, a fragile veil over the simmering greed of the noble houses.
I often found myself in Johnson and Johny's burgeoning workshop, a cacophony of ringing hammers and the smell of hot metal. They were brilliant, making incredible progress with their basic tools, turning my crude sketches of improved plows and fishing winches into working prototypes. But my mind, the Kakeru part of me, constantly screamed for more. I remembered the industrial revolutions of my past life: the power of steam, the efficiency of assembly lines, the sheer output of modern machinery. How could I translate that here, to this world of magic and steel? My memories were often too fragmented, too vague to provide the exact schematics needed for truly complex inventions.
"Johnson, Johny," I began one sweltering afternoon, watching them painstakingly forge a new plowshare. "We need to move faster. Our current methods, while effective, are too slow. If we are to truly fortify Rimuru City, to maximize the extraction of mana stone, and to feed our growing population, we need to leap centuries in a single decade."
Johnson wiped sweat from his brow. "Your Majesty, we are doing our best. These plows are stronger than anything seen in this region. The winches are revolutionary."
"I know," I affirmed, pacing. "But imagine… a machine that could power itself. That could move goods without animals, that could pump water from the deepest wells, that could even, perhaps, power a forge without constant stoking." My thoughts raced, trying to conjure the images of steam engines, of intricate gears and pistons. I could see the concept, the function, but the precise engineering details, the exact measurements, the metallurgy for this world… they eluded me. It was like seeing a blurry photograph of a complex blueprint.
I closed my eyes, concentrating, trying to force the hazy images in my mind into clarity. Steam engine, boiler, piston, crank… how did they all fit? What was the ideal pressure? What kind of fuel? I pushed, harder than I ever had, picturing the intricate workings, forcing my memory to yield the elusive details.
Then, it happened. Not a flash of light, not a dramatic revelation, but a silent, profound shift within my mind. It was like a new part of my brain had just clicked into place. The blurry photograph sharpened into perfect focus. Every gear, every pipe, every rivet of a rudimentary steam engine materialized in my thoughts with astonishing clarity. It wasn't just a memory; it was a blueprint, fully formed, complete with annotations and material specifications, hovering in my mind's eye as if projected onto the inside of my skull. It was far more detailed than anything I could have consciously recalled.
I gasped, my eyes snapping open. My unique ability, the one I had asked the God of Earth for, had finally activated in its true, astonishing form. This wasn't just Appraisal. This was Divine Blueprint, the power to instantly manifest intricate, flawless blueprints of any object or mechanism I could conceive, drawing upon the collective knowledge of my past life and perhaps, something more. The implications were staggering.
"Your Majesty? Are you alright?" Johny asked, his young face etched with concern.
"I'm more than alright," I breathed, a thrilling, dangerous exhilaration coursing through me. I grabbed a piece of charcoal and a large, flat slab of slate. My hand moved almost instinctively, sketching with a speed and precision that would have been impossible moments ago. Gears, valves, intricate pipework, all flowed from my hand, accompanied by numerical specifications and material requirements in a language I hadn't known I possessed. "Johnson, Johny," I said, looking up, my eyes gleaming with a new, fierce light. "We are no longer building just a city. We are building an industrial revolution. This… this is a steam engine. It will transform everything."
They peered at the slate, their faces a mixture of confusion and disbelief. But as their eyes traced the lines, the meticulous detail, their expressions shifted to profound awe. "By the gods…" Johnson muttered, running a calloused finger over a complex valve design. "This… this is truly revolutionary. It's… perfect." Johny, usually quieter, was already pulling out his own notebook, frantically sketching, his mind clearly racing to grasp the implications.
Over the next few months, fueled by mana stone and the tireless efforts of Johnson and Johny, the first rudimentary steam-powered machines began to hum to life. Not massive, city-altering engines yet, but smaller, powerful pumps for the quarry, mechanical saws for timber, and a prototype thresher that dramatically increased our grain output. The impact was immediate. Productivity soared. Food supplies became abundant, far exceeding our needs. Mana stone extraction became more efficient, boosting our wealth. The villagers, seeing the direct benefit, worked with even greater zeal.
My diplomatic efforts, managed by Stanley, and the trade negotiations by Steve and Marlow, continued discreetly. Marlow successfully landed the deal with House Bellwether, a prominent neutral merchant family. Their first trade caravan, laden with rare metals and fine textiles, arrived safely in Rimuru City via a newly secured route through the mountains, bypassing the Kingdom of Delgado's usual checkpoints. This was a critical step, establishing our international legitimacy.
But the silence from Delgado, from the noble houses whose letters I held, grew heavier, more ominous. The King's Customs Agents, despite Steve's carefully crafted disinformation, must have been reporting something back. A city that suddenly prospered, new trade routes, an inexplicable surge in mana stone availability—it would eventually draw unwanted attention. My calculations suggested our window of quiet growth was closing. We were too strong to ignore, but not yet strong enough to be truly impenetrable.
I gathered my core ministers once more. "The time for subtlety is over," I declared, looking at each of their faces. "We have used our window. We have built a foundation. Our walls are formidable, our economy growing, our technology advancing. But our enemies are like coiled serpents, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. They will not wait forever."
Stanley, ever cautious, spoke. "Your Majesty, a declaration of independence will be an act of war against the Kingdom of Delgado. And it will draw the full ire of every noble house that believes they have a claim to this land. We are strong, but are we ready for a full-scale assault?"
"We will never be 'ready' enough by waiting," I countered, my voice firm. "They will come regardless. It is better to face them on our terms, as a recognized, sovereign nation, rather than as a rogue village. A bold declaration now will send a shockwave, force them to act, and perhaps, make them underestimate the speed of our growth. It will solidify our legitimacy in the eyes of others, like House Bellwether."
Miles, always loyal, nodded. Asuna's hand went to his sword, a grim acceptance in his eyes. Lindsy watched me, a flicker of admiration in her gaze.
"Prepare the proclamation," I commanded. "We will send it via fast couriers to every major kingdom, every noble house, and to King Leo Von Delgado himself. Let the world know."
The declaration was simple, yet it carried the weight of a thousand years of forgotten history. It stated Rimuru City's sovereign independence, its right to self-governance, its intent to trade freely with all nations, and its unwavering resolve to defend its borders. It was a challenge, a gauntlet thrown down before the old powers.
Within weeks, the news spread like wildfire across the continent. From the opulent halls of the Kingdom of Delgado to the distant, shadowy courts of the other thirteen kingdoms connected by Kutsilyo's strategic waterways and land routes, a collective gasp of disbelief, then outrage, reverberated. King Leo Von Delgado, upon receiving the proclamation, flew into a furious rage, his face turning crimson. His advisors whispered of invasion, of crushing this rebellious upstart. House Blackwood, House Thorne, House Volkov – their agents scrambled, their schemes suddenly exposed by this brazen declaration. The very idea that a ruined village, a mere pawn in their grand game, had declared itself a sovereign nation, was an insult. The precarious peace was shattered. The gauntlet had been thrown. The age of subtlety was over. And Rimuru City stood, a bold declaration of defiance, waiting for the storm to break.