That Time I Got Reincarnated As A Slime: Probability

Not a monster. Not a guardian.

A person.

Or at least, something shaped like one.

Tall, draped in dark robes. Their face was hidden beneath a hood, but faint, glowing lines traced patterns across the fabric.

I stopped in my tracks.

The figure tilted its head slightly, as if assessing me. Then, it spoke.

"You are not supposed to exist."

Well, that's one way to start a conversation. Rude, no?

I exhaled slowly, keeping my stance relaxed but ready. "Yeah, well, neither is a lot of shit, but here I am. Listen, I just died as soon as I was about to live my damn dream, so please, leave me alone."

The figure didn't react to my words. Instead, they raised a hand, and the air between us rippled. Energy coiled in their palm—something I couldn't quite define, like reality itself was shifting around it.

"Your kind was erased for a reason," they continued. "Yet fate has seen fit to defy itself."

The way they spoke—it wasn't angry, or even hostile. Just… neutral. Like they were stating a fact.

I clenched my fists. "Yeah, about that. Mind telling me why an entire race got wiped out? They lost a bet?"

The figure was silent for a long moment.

Then, they let out a soft, almost amused sigh. "Because you were never meant to exist in the first place."

I blinked.

Okay. That was not the answer I expected.

"Excuse me—what?"

"You heard me." The figure lowered their hand, the energy dissipating. "Your race… the Veyl'Zar… was an anomaly. An accident of probability itself. A mistake."

Something cold settled in my gut.

A mistake?

Bullshit.

I straightened, forcing down the unease creeping up my spine. "If we were a mistake, why go through the trouble of erasing us? Why not just let us… I don't know, disappear naturally?"

The figure's hooded gaze stayed locked on me. "Because you did not simply exist. You imposed existence. Where there was uncertainty, you created certainty. Where there was chaos, you imposed order. And where there was fate—"

They took a slow step forward.

"—you rewrote it."

The weight of their words crashed down on me.

I wasn't just some guy with luck powers. My entire race had been capable of rewriting fate itself. No wonder something wanted us gone.

I swallowed hard. "So what now? You here to finish the job?" I was ready to flee from the site.

The figure didn't answer immediately. Instead, they reached into their robes and pulled something out—a small, crystalline object, pulsing with a dim blue light.

"The world has long forgotten the Veyl'Zar," they said. "But it seems fate has chosen to gamble once more."

They extended the crystal toward me.

"Take this. If you truly wish to understand what you are… seek the Forgotten Archive."

I hesitated.

This felt like a trap.

But at the same time… it felt right.

My fingers closed around the crystal.

The moment I touched it, my vision exploded with light.

Fragments of memory—not mine, but echoes of something ancient—rushed through me. Whispers of forgotten battles. Glimpses of impossible victories. A single, overwhelming truth burned itself into my mind:

The Veyl'Zar weren't erased because they were dangerous.

They were erased because they were unstoppable.

I gasped, stumbling back, the vision fading. The figure was already turning away, stepping toward the massive doors.

"Wait—!" I called out.

They paused.

"Who are you?"

A long silence.

Then, just before they vanished beyond the doors, I heard their voice one last time.

"A remnant."

"Are you serious? What do you mean by 'remnant'? Don't give me that shit, just tell me."

The figure didn't turn back.

Their voice, distant yet unwavering, drifted through the vast emptiness.

"A remnant of what once was. Of what should never have been."

Then, silence.

The doors shut behind them with a quiet finality, leaving me standing there, heart pounding, mind racing.

A remnant? Of my race? Of the ones who erased us? Or something else entirely?

I looked down at the crystal in my hand. Its soft glow pulsed, as if breathing—alive, waiting.

The Forgotten Archive.

I had no idea where or what that was. But if there was even the slightest chance it held answers, I had to find it.

I clenched my fist around the crystal.

I had just lost everything—my life, my future, my dream. Why did I reincarnate? Does this happen to everyone?

The moment I took a step, the space around me shifted.

It wasn't like walking through a normal room. One second, I was where I started—then, suddenly, I was somewhere else. Like the world had decided to skip the boring parts of my journey.

I stopped, blinking.

"Okay. That's new."

The grand hall was gone. Instead, I now stood at the edge of what looked like a massive, crumbling pathway suspended in an endless void. Fragments of stone floated in the air, drifting like debris in deep water.

The only way forward was a series of broken platforms, hanging in midair, leading toward a distant structure bathed in dim, shifting light.

Was that the Forgotten Archive?

I exhaled and looked down at my body again.

Still solid. Still real. Not an illusion for sure.

I was beginning to wonder if my form was just a projection of what I thought I should look like. I didn't feel wrong, exactly, but there was something… off. Something I couldn't quite place.

I'd deal with that later.

For now, I had to move.

I tested my footing on the first floating platform. It held.

"Alright," I muttered. "No turning back now."

I stepped forward. Then again. And again. 

The platforms didn't feel like normal stone. They felt… weightless.

Then, a deep voice rang around me, it was distorted, like the ones you see in fictional monsters. 

"You stand on the forsaken ground, leave or perish."

I swallowed hard, forcing my stance to remain steady. "Yeah, see, I'd love to leave, but I kinda need answers first. So how about we skip the whole 'perish' part and talk this out?"

The void around me shifted. The distant stars—if that's what they even were—twisted like reflections in disturbed water.

Something in the abyss moved.

A shadow, vast and formless, unfurled in the distance. It wasn't a creature, not exactly. It had no shape I could define, no clear boundaries, but I felt it watching.

Judging.

"The forsaken do not bargain."

The air rippled. A force—a will—pushed against me.

A warning.

Or a test.

I clenched my fist around the crystal. Its faint glow pulsed in response, like it was alive—like it knew.

"Then I guess I'll have to take what I need."

I stepped forward.

And the abyss roared.

The platforms shattered beneath me. The entire void lurched, folding in on itself like a collapsing wave.

I fell.

No—not fell.

I was dragged.

A force, unseen and overwhelming, pulled me downward. The air turned heavy, like I was sinking through unseen tides. My body—my form—shuddered, struggling to stay together.

I gritted my teeth.

No. Not like this.

The crystal in my grasp burned.

Instinct kicked in. Without thinking, I focused on it—on the pulse of energy thrumming through its core.

Move.

A single thought. A single demand.

The world obeyed.

A flash of light erupted from the crystal. The force dragging me down snapped, and suddenly—

I was standing.

The void was gone.

I exhaled sharply, blinking as my vision adjusted.

No longer floating. No longer falling. I now stood before an enormous gateway, towering above me like the entrance to something ancient—forgotten.

The Forgotten Archive.

The doors were open. So, that is it, right? No catch.

Whatever test I just passed, it had allowed me through.

I glanced at the abyss behind me. The presence was still there, watching, but it no longer moved to stop me.

I turned back to the entrance.

My grip on the crystal tightened.

"Alright," I muttered, stepping forward.

"Let's see what you were hiding." 

The interior of the Forgotten Archive was… vast.

No, infinite.

Rows upon rows of towering stone shelves stretched endlessly in every direction, vanishing into the darkness above. Scrolls, tablets, and books—some pristine, others decayed beyond recognition—floated in midair, shifting positions as if guided by unseen hands. The entire place thrummed with an ancient, silent energy, like the very concept of knowledge had taken form here.

I took a cautious step forward. My boots barely made a sound against the cold, smooth floor.

The air itself felt heavier. Not in a physical way, but like the weight of countless stories, forgotten and erased, pressed down on my very existence.

This wasn't just an archive. It was a graveyard of knowledge.

And I had just walked into it.

The crystal in my grip pulsed again, faint but steady, guiding me forward. I didn't question it. If this thing had brought me here, then it had a purpose.

As I moved, I noticed something strange. The moment I reached for a book, it slipped away, floating just out of reach. Same with a scroll I tried to grab—like the Archive itself was denying me access.

I frowned. Figures.

This place clearly had rules. And I had no idea what they were.

A low hum vibrated through the air.

I tensed, instincts screaming at me to be ready.

From the depths of the Archive, something stirred.

A figure emerged from the shifting shadows between the shelves, stepping into the dim light.

They were draped in the same kind of robes as the one I had met earlier, but these were tattered, worn by time itself. Glowing symbols ran along the fabric, shifting and changing as I tried to focus on them. Their hood was drawn up, concealing their face.

But the moment they spoke, I knew they were different.

"You should not be here."

Great. More of that.

I exhaled, crossing my arms. "Yeah, I'm getting that a lot lately. Got any other lines, or is this just how you guys greet people?"

The figure did not react to my sarcasm.

Instead, they took a slow step forward.

"This Archive is not for the living."

Their voice was layered. Not like an echo, but as if multiple voices spoke at once—some deep, others barely a whisper.

Something about it set my nerves on edge.

I tightened my grip on the crystal. "Well, good news for you—I did die. Got the whole 'tragic end' package and everything. So maybe I qualify?"

Silence.

Then, the figure tilted their head slightly.

"An anomaly… no, a remnant." Their voice shifted, thoughtful. "The last fragment of a broken design."

I frowned. "You mean the Veyl'Zar?"

The Archive trembled at the name.

The air itself seemed to shudder, as if recoiling from a wound long buried.

The robed figure remained still, but I could feel something beneath that hood—an awareness, a presence that went beyond sight.

"You invoke a name that no longer exists."

"Pretty sure it does," I shot back, "considering I'm standing right here."

A long pause. Then—

"You are the last."

I already knew that. But hearing it said aloud—especially here, in this place—made it feel final.

I forced the thought aside. "That's why I'm here. To learn why. To understand what we were."

The figure was silent. Then, for the first time, they raised a hand.

The floating books and scrolls halted in midair. The entire Archive seemed to hold its breath.

"You seek knowledge of that which was erased."

The glow of the crystal in my hand flared.

The figure's hooded gaze lowered to it.

"So… the Archive has recognized you."

I raised a brow. "That a good thing or a bad thing?"

The robed figure didn't answer. Instead, they turned, robes flowing like liquid shadow.

"Come," they said. "If the Archive deems you worthy, then it will decide what is shown."

Well. That was cryptic.

But I wasn't about to argue.

I followed them deeper into the Archive.

As we walked, the shelves shifted, parting before us. The endless rows of knowledge rearranged themselves, forming a new path that hadn't existed moments ago.

Finally, we stopped before a single pedestal, resting in the center of a vast, circular chamber. Unlike the rest of the Archive, this place felt untouched—preserved, unyielding to time's decay.

On the pedestal lay a single, ancient book. Its cover was a dark, obsidian-like material, pulsing faintly with an inner glow. Symbols—ones I somehow recognized—were etched along its spine.

My chest tightened.

This was it.

The figure gestured to the book.

"The last record of the Veyl'Zar."

I stared at it.

This was the answer I had been seeking.

The truth of my lost race.

I stepped forward, heart pounding.

And then, as my fingers brushed against the cover—

The world shattered.

Light, overwhelming and absolute, consumed everything.

And I fell once more.

But this time, I wasn't falling alone.

Whispers—thousands of voices, speaking as one—surged into my mind.

Memories, histories, truths long buried—

And at the center of it all, a single page. Like the ones you see in an ancient book.

The Veyl'Zar weren't erased by fate. They were erased by the demon lords?!