What is this 'Dimensional Chat' ?

Chapter 120. The New Tempest

The sky rippled like water as a massive teleportation gate shimmered open in the heart of Tempest. Citizens paused mid-chore. Soldiers reached for weapons—until familiar auras blanketed the air like a calming breeze.

And then, he stepped out.

Satria.

Clad in his signature batik ensemble, sunglasses perched on his nose, and exuding the easy confidence of a man who absolutely did not plan for this many wives to arrive alongside him.

Behind him emerged a parade of beauties—each one a walking war crime against masculinity.

Jeanne strode out with grace, divine poise radiating from her in waves.

Kiyohime dressed like a ghostly bride, hands folded neatly, eyes locked lovingly on her husband.

Kurumi waved charmingly at the guards, giggling with a wink that made several faint.

Koneko, though familiar with modern cities, gawked in wide-eyed awe. The fantasy sci-fi fusion of Tempest was something out of dreams.

Valiana, dressed in a white sleeveless shirt and red tie, military elegance wrapped around noble instincts, admired the rising empire her mate had forged.

Fran casually spun her sword on one shoulder like a child with a stick—despite being specifically banned from “unsupervised twirling” by Tempest regulations.

And at the rear, like royalty returning to survey a long-lost domain, Morgan stepped through the gate. Her sharp eyes scanned the land with a mix of suspicion and curiosity—coated with regal disdain.

The border guards stiffened. One fell to his knees, slamming his forehead into the ground with a booming voice:

"The Lord has returned! Glory to the Great Golden Emperor! The Padishah of Rûm! The Dispenser of Crowns to Monarchs upon the Earth! The Shadow of God in the World! The Custodian of the Invincible Wall of the Two Horns that pierce the Sky and protect us from our enemies!"

Gasps and murmurs surged like a rising tide. One by one—humans, demi-humans, orcs, ogres, flora, fauna, and even spirits—fell to their knees, bowing low. To many in Tempest, Satria was more than a king. He was their Messiah, their Savior, their Living Myth.

Satria raised a hand with a gentle smile.

“Please… everyone, stand. I appreciate your passion, truly—but we’ve talked about this before, haven’t we? I’m not whatever you have in your mind. I’m just a man who’s trying to do right by the people who put their faith in him. Everything I’ve done... it's my responsibility as your leader—to ensure you can live without fear and find happiness in Tempest.”

His words, like rain on parched soil, eased the hearts of all who listened.

Rimuru floated beside him, blinking at the horizon. Her eyes widened.

"W-Wait a second! That wall! That wasn’t here when we left! You—don’t tell me… that’s the gift you mentioned? The one from your world’s God?"

Her voice was half-excited, half-horrified.

Fatalis, who had once peeked into Satria’s deepest memories, nodded slowly.

“Yes. It’s his gift. A divine construct beyond comprehension. To think they managed to send something like this across worlds…”

She gazed upward with a faint shiver in her voice.

“That is the Iron Wall of Dhu al-Qarnayn… forged in ancient myth to imprison the chaos-bringers Gog and Magog. It was said to stand between civilizations and apocalypse.”