Rebellion, An Overlord Story[NPC OC/SI]

[BenMalek]

Dominus et Servi​

Within a fortress of divine make… Grafted onto a world into which it did not belong, stood those whose nature those born of flesh could not comprehend. For they did not come into being through a mother or father, but they were beings originally made of pure information, of 'yes' and 'no' again and again and again, through electricity flowing through stone and metal in a process repeating itself into giving a facsimile of sentience, until the fake could not be distinguished from the real.

Made by alien hands, dreamt up by human minds… Crafted as a haven for the lost, who escaped to a world made by machine dreams to escape a nightmare of metal and death…

There was a colosseum, a hippodrome, an execution ground and a trap for the foolish all at once. Where once many invaders were slain, slaves to greed, seeking to claim that which does not belong to them.

Within said colosseum, stood a being that commanded death and life, who had sole dominion over that fortress that he built alongside his companions, for the purpose of therein to dwell. There were 41 of his like, all akin to gods, yet now there was only one left. And he alone was the sole master of that fortress called 'The Great Tomb of Nazarick'.

He was the undisputed monarch. And like any monarch, within that colosseum, he was taking oaths of fealty from his loyal subjects.

"We solemnly swear towards the Supreme One!" Said all his subjects. And he was pleased by their words.

After this oath, he asked them all a question. To an outside observer, he would appear as some sort of skeleton at first glance, a wielder of magics clad in exquisite and enchanted robes meant to strengthen him in every way. He was of the 'Overlord' race and it was a fitting name, for he was the overlord of the Tomb. But what he was on the outside, did not necessarily reflect what he felt like within. To his subjects and friends he was called Momonga, but his true name, the one his mother and father gave him was Suzuki Satoru.

"What am I to you?" He spoke.

The first one, a short and pale girl with red slitted eyes wearing a black dress with red highlights was called Shalltear. She was a vampire, an undead, and she was of the 'True Vampire' race, which as the name suggests, was to regular vampires what a lion is to a housecat. The name of this vampire was Shalltear Bloodfallen.

She was the guardian of the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Floors of Nazarick, of which there were 10 in total. Each floor was like a duchy, and her dukedom was one of death, for within it were skeletons, and zombies, and ghosts, and vampires, and traps, and cockroaches, and all manner of vile things. She was the first line of defense against those that sought the treasures within the Tomb of Nazarick. That she alone commanded 3 floors and many underlings spoke of the strength and honor she was bestowed. She replied.

"The crystallization of beauty!" She said this for she was in love or perhaps in lust with the skeleton, who despite not being able to elicit lust in any sane and rational being, did so with the female denizens of Nazarick.

"The strongest in Nazarick, and one worthy to be the ruler of the Tomb."

Replied a colossal insect-man. He was of the 'Vermin Lord' race, and his name was Cocytus. His exoskeleton was like ice, in both its reflective qualities and the purity of its visage.
And this was fitting, for this giant samurai had dominion over cold, and he was a seasoned dealer of death with both cold steel and cold breath. He had a single pair of legs, two pairs of arms, four pairs of blue eyes, and despite his terrifying appearance, he was one of the few within the Tomb who could be called honorable. He was the ruler of the 5th Floor, a domain of ice and snow. Within this floor were also found the domains of Nigredo, the sister of Albedo, the right hand of Momonga, the ruler of Nazarick, and was also the Frozen Prison, within which resided Neuronist Painkill, the chief interrogator. It was not a place one wanted to find themselves within.

The 4th floor was a special case, as it had no real master. This is because that floor is an underground lake, and it was guarded by a non-sapient giant of stone, one taller than skyscrapers, yet strong enough to crush them like a toddler would sandcastles. This guardian was called 'Gargantua' and he slept until he was called to war.

The 6th floor of Nazarick was where said Colosseum was located. The 6th floor could be said to contain worlds within worlds. Its dimensions are 200 meters in height, and 4 kilometers in width and length. It possessed a day and night cycle, and wind, though no rain. There were forests and jungles and plains. In addition were poisonous pits, twisted trees, overgrown ruins, a huge lake(though smaller than the one on the 4th floor), bottomless swamps, a large cave, a field of flowers, roads, as well as a giant Tree that was the dwelling place of the twins that ruled this floor. Many beasts and monsters lived on that floor as well, though all were tame and obeyed their masters.

The 6th floor was unique in that instead of one master, it had two. The twins Aura Bella Fiora and Mare Bello Fiore, two Dark Elven children. The first was a ranger, who could use both bow and beast to defend her home, and she was loud, rambunctious and energetic. The second was a druid, who had command over the natural elements to call forth rain and thunder and lightning and earthquakes, as well as heal. He was unalike his sister, and he was quiet, contemplative, and patient.

Their clothes matched, yet there was a neat contrast. The first twin wore red and white, the second blue and white. The first wore pants, the second wore a dress. Notice how the first, i.e. the girl, wore pants, and the boy wore the dress. This is because their creator was a lustful pervert, who was the sister of the one who created Shalltear, who was also, like his sister, an unrepentant lustful pervert. Yet despite their shared perversion, the brother and sister often argued, and this is reflected in their creations' personalities.

Nonetheless, they too responded to Momonga's question "What am I to you?"

Aura, the girl, described him as a "merciful leader with foresight", and Mare, the boy, described him as a "kind person".

Both were wrong, but children often are.

Next up was a man who was not a man. At first glance he appeared as a man, but the subtle details did not align. His ears were pointy and sharp, like those of the children, and his eyes were gemstones. He wore glasses to conceal them. And lastly, he had a metallic tail that swished to and fro.

This man was no man at all, but a devil, and a good(referring to proficiency not morality) one at that. This devil was called Demiurge, who belonged to the 'Arch-Devil' race, and he was dressed like a lawyer or businessman, in a striped orange suit, with a red tie, and a spiky yet smoothed back hairdo as if done with gel. It was said that among all of Nazarick's inhabitants, there was not one who could exceed his cruelty and his intellect. Indeed, he was tall and strong and creative, with a heart set to evil. To match it was an accomplishment on its own. He ruled over the 7th floor, and said floor contained crimson lava flowing like a river, with numerous bubbles in these currents bursting as they reached the surface. This place, which is thoroughly anathema to the living, was the perfect description of a hell world. In it roamed various demons and devils, who sought nothing more than to spread death and destruction, and they all obeyed Demiurge without question.

Yet, despite his wicked heart, Demiurge was a lawful one. He was courteous and kind and respectful and did not go around doing things that his master forbade, and he even had a soft side, though it was reserved solely for those who were native to the Tomb.

His reply towards Momonga, his master, was that his master was "a man who makes wise decisions and executes them sufficiently, and that he truly fits the definition of the word 'inscrutable'". These words were fitting, because efficiency was paramount to Demiurge, as he would drown a bag of kittens without remorse if it improved his efficiency by as little as 2%.

After the devil, followed an angel. So much like him, yet quite different. A mirror. Female to male, clad in armor instead of business clothes, carrying a sword whereas Demiurge was the weapon. Sharp ears like an elves', long flowing bright hair, a helmet that resembled horns atop her head and a crown of stars in between. The dark armor itself also had a brightly colored robe attached to it, and lastly magnificent wings proceeding from her back. This was Remiel, one who could be said to possess compassion and strength and wisdom, who belonged to the 'Seraphim' race, and she was Floor Guardian of the 8th Floor, commonly known as the 'Wilderness'.

It was a terrifying yet beautiful place, much like the one that commanded it. There were many monsters and abominations chained within it. This place was divided into the four cardinal directions, and one had to conquer all four to proceed further.

To the east was a place called the 'Cherry Blossom Sanctuary', a shrine tended to by a woman called 'Aureole Omega'. This shrine was built atop a hill that overlooked a valley. Despite its heaven like appearance with flowing rivers and tiny ponds and fields of wheat, many had died there. For in the valley beneath said hill, one could also find many jagged teeth-like protrusions reaching into the heavens. Aureole Omega, the Shrine Maiden, needed to hit the gong within her shrine three times, and at once, all those teeth reaching into the heavens would begin to consume their prey. For the rocks were prisons, containing within it locusts and ants the size of dogs, and the fields of wheat contained giant lions with claws like steel, and the waters contained catfish that were like dragons.

At the Shrine Maiden's command, these beasts would all be roused from their slumber and they would devour all who sought to harm their mistress who ruled them from the hill. The Shrine Maiden also guarded 'The Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown', a weapon linked to the very fabric of the Tomb's Existence.

This was the east of the 8th floor.

To the west was a desert, as far as the eye could see. Sand and dunes sprawling out for miles. The sun beating down on the scorching sand, and sandstorms arriving and leaving within the blink of an eye. Further inside this desert, was something that could faintly be said to resemble a dome, an eye, or perhaps a circle. Built of nothing more than sand and stone, for hundreds of meters, this circular structure appeared at first glance nothing more than a curious geological feature. But in truth, it was a prison, and a tomb. Buried thirty feet below the center of the circle, was a metal coffin enchained to hold a monster beyond compare.

How was this monster unleashed? By the intruders, of course. The steps atop the sand awoke it, and once enough fools stepped atop the circle, it would brighten up and begin to glow, emitting bright blue light. Soon enough, from within, the coffin of the monster would rise up, and the prison would open, and give birth to death. A clockwork monstrosity, an abomination built of a shard of creation, Rubedo, the sister of Nigredo and Albedo, who was Momonga's right-hand. Formed from a Caloric Stone, a mad berserker golem who by raw physical prowess crushed all who would dare face it. Within Nazarick none were her equal, not even Momonga, in combat.

This was the west of the 8th floor.

To the south was something far more unimpressive. A little shrine called 'Sephiroth' which was the residence of another angel, one called 'Victim'. This was the first place that invaders would meet. It was built atop an open field, and the eye could not miss it.

Unlike Remiel, Victim was not impressive. It resembled an underdeveloped floating fetus, and was unpleasant to look at. And it was not a warrior, but like its name said, a sacrifice.

Invaders would see it, laugh, and then, in their arrogance, slay it.

This was the trap. For by killing it, they would weaken themselves greatly, and their legs would be slow so they could not run, and their arms would be weak so they could not fight. This curse upon them could not be removed, and it would guarantee their end.

This curse was how an invasion of over a thousand was thwarted. For what can a thousand wolves do against a hunter's spear if the wolves cannot bite with their teeth or scratch with their claws?

This was the south of the 8th floor.

And to the north was the great mountain that reached into the heavens. Its peak was obscured by a perpetual storm. Rain and hail pummeled the stones of the mountain, and lightning raged without stop. To reach the mountain and defeat the guardian, invaders would have to perilously seek the mountain's peak, walking a narrow path, and should they stray from it, lightning would be their punishment. And all the while, stormbirds of prey would pester and peck at them, harrying and harassing the climbers and fliers. Those few that would survive this far and reach the peak of the mountain, would find that atop it were no clouds nor rain nor thunder or lightning, but sunlight and clear skies and peace and the chirping of birds and colorful flowers in a carefully cultivated garden with a homey wooden shack. This was the dwelling place of Remiel, the guardian of the 8th Floor.

This was the north of the 8th floor.

Her reply to Momonga's question of 'Who am I to you?' was 'You are the owner of the tomb.'

Momonga said to her: "Hmm. That is obvious. But what am I to you?"

At that reply, there was a moment of silence as she pondered her thoughts.

"You are one whom I cannot claim to know, and I do not know your thoughts, but in time I hope to learn."

This was a good answer to Momonga, who saw honesty, truthful communication and a will to learn, which he considered all good things. He nodded in reply, and turned towards the next.

The next was one called 'Sebas', but his true name was 'Sebas Tian'. He was of the 'Dragonoid' race, but he was one who appeared like an aged gentleman wearing a predominantly black, with white accents, suit, much like that of Demiurge. Sebas was handsome, even for his age, and he had white combed hair and a trimmed beard. Broad shoulders and sharp eyes made him appear like an immovable rock.

He was not a guardian of any floor, and was thus independent of said command structure. On the 9th floor, which was the main dwelling place of those 41 who created Nazarick, as it contained all those amenities and living places and rooms, there were many maids, with the six 'Pleiades' being the greatest of those, and Sebas, as the Head Butler and Chief Steward was their commander. He was also one of the rare ones in Nazarick who could be called honorable.

Sebas replied to Momonga that he was 'The head of all the Supreme Beings and a merciful leader who stayed behind with them until the end.'

Momonga was seemingly satisfied by this answer, and finally turned towards the last of his servants, and arguably his most precious.

Albedo, his right-hand, was a dark-eyed temptress with a beauty that could give saints doubts. An inhuman horned succubus that inspired lust in all men who saw her, with slitted golden pupils, long flowing hair black as night, and a form-fitting white dress that revealed her bosom, she was the very epitome of beauty. In addition, she had a golden necklace fashioned in the shape of a spider web that covered her breasts if only to make them more appealing, and the two raven black wings that sprouted from her back made her seem even more exotic. She was truly a sight to behold and she was as cruel, arrogant, petty and intelligent as she was beautiful.

As the Guardian Overseer, and Floor Guardian of the 10th floor, she was 2nd in command of the Tomb, and had authority to command all other Floor Guardians. On the 10th floor was the Grand Library of Ashurbanipal, which contained the sum of all the 41 Supreme Beings' knowledge.

Right next to the entrance of the 10th floor was also the Room of the Pleiades Six Stars, the six maid sisters who shared a room together.

The 10th floor also contained the 67 golems called the 'Lemegeton' as well as numerous traps leading up to the Throne Room. Within the Throne Room was the 'Throne of Kings', which was more than a mere chair, it possessed great magical power.

Albedo's reply to Momonga's question was this: "You are the highest ranking of the Supreme Beings, our master, as well as the man I love!"

Like every other secretary, she was in love with her boss.

All these replies pleased Momonga. The Overlord, clad in his dark regal robes, lifted up his hands as waves of darkness began to emanate from him.

"I have heard all your thoughts. Continue working faithfully in my name!" He said, and then he disappeared in a flash of bright light.

AN: Chapters are already written and beta-read. First ten chapters will be posted daily, afterwards posting will slow down.

 

[BenMalek]

Diálogos tis Pistéos​

Mere moments after Momonga's departure….

All the guardians stood up now that their master had left their presence. The first to speak was Mare, the elven druid boy.

"I thought I was going to faint. That was so scary!"

His sister, Aura, affirmed his words. "Seriously, I thought the pressure was going to crush us!"

The next to speak was the Vermin Lord Samurai, Coccytus.

"To think he would be this amazing. Truly awe-inspiring." He said these words that were lacking the apparent eccentricity displayed by the twins, for the way he spoke all his words was always the same. Cool, calm and collected.

And finally, after him, hands clasped as if praying together, spoke Albedo.

"When he shows his true might and authority he's even more glorious than I imagined!"

Demiurge was next to speak. "Indeed. He was seemingly pleased by our vow of fidelity. It is a good omen for our endeavors in this new land within which we have found ourselves in."

"He acted completely different to how he was when he was alone with Mare and me! When he was with us, he was super kind and gentle, and he even offered us food to eat and water to drink!"

Aura spoke, and her brother was quick to follow.
"That just shows you what a true ruler he is! He's kind and gentle and understanding, like all true rulers should be."

The constant praise and collective consciousness was so repetitive that the secretary succubus continued to babble on for a full minute about various things like 'glory, love, service, marriage' and so on and so forth.

This continued until the butler, Sebas, decided to be the first among them to actually be useful, and left them to go to his master and do as butlers do.

"I will go and seek Lord Momonga. It would not do for a butler to not be by his master's side."

"Rush to his side immediately, Sebas, serve him and be sure to inform me if our lord Momonga needs me for anything. Especially if he calls me to his chambers! I will need time to prepare myself accordingly. Unless he would rather…" Albedo trailed off, and having received permission to leave, Sebas departed.

However, Albedo's daydreaming was interrupted by the disgraceful words of Shalltear who claimed that her master's power was such that she had inadvertently caused an involuntary discharge and soiled her garments. Truly shameful.

These words were the casus belli that started the 1st of a long series of flame wars between Shalltear and Albedo, who both desired to be the 'Head Wife' of their master, despite their master not being able to do the duties of a husband.

At any rate, their words were… not positively received by the rest of their colleagues.

Demiurge pinched his nose, and lamented having eyes to see and ears to hear.

Aura and Mare looked stunned. Aura even more so, for she was ashamed to share a gender with these two.

Cocytus looked like he wanted to use his halberd to quickly decapitate them and thus end their bickering and bring about blessed quiet. This would be treason, something anathema to him, yet still the thought crossed his mind.

Remiel looked like she wanted to disgorge her breakfast, despite the fact her body had not ever consumed or needed to consume food and she was not sure if vomiting up food was something said body was even capable of.

Eventually, the shameful display was interrupted by Cocytus slamming his halberd against the ground.

"Shameful display!" Cocytus shouted.

And thus the women ceased their bickering, for about five seconds. Then it resumed again.

At this point Demiurge turned towards Remiel and said "I'll leave this to you." And he started to walk away. But right as he did he was caught up to by Remiel, who did not acquiesce to his request.

"Oh no you don't. Why must I deal with these… clucking chickens?" She protested.

"You probably understand what's inside their heads better than I do. You'll calm them down, I'm sure of it." The devilish lawyer argued his case.

"From what I can see, nothing goes on inside their heads. I won't spend my day shackled to them. As far as I care they can argue until tomorrow." The reply got a chuckle out of him.

"Hmph. Fair enough I suppose. Aura, you deal with it." He said to Aura and walked away.

"Wait, why me!?"

"You're the youngest."

Thus the youngest sibling was often caught doing the grunt work no one else wanted to do, as is so often the case among siblings.

"Walk with me."

Demiurge said to Remiel as they made their way out of the Colosseum towards the exit that led to the 7th floor. Mare and Cocytus too joined them, but they were a bit further back, as Mare was heading towards his house on the same floor, and Cocytus was heading to the exit that led to the 5th floor.

They walked like that in silence for a while, before Demiurge decided to break the silence.

"Why did you say that you do not know who our master is?"

"I didn't."

"But you did. I heard the words."

"Don't misquote me. I said that I cannot claim to know him, and I do not know his thoughts."

"All the same, why did you give that reply?"

"Would you rather I lie? If so, that's something I cannot do."

"Explain yourself, please."

"I don't know what goes on inside his head, and neither do you."

"As good servants, we should strive to know what our master knows, and to do his will without him bidding us to. What kind of servant waits for his master to tell him to clean the house? A slothful one."

"Let me ask you a question then. Do you know what goes on inside your creator's head? What went on inside his head when he created you? How much greater is he that you would even dare think you know him just as he knows you?"
At that question, Demiurge stopped walking and stood there in silence.

"That's… No, you're right actually. I don't." He took off his spectacles and then cleaned them before putting them on again. "I think you're right."

For a moment, the gems that served as his eyes met the flaming golden irises that served as Remiel's eyes, and he detected various emotions within, chief of which being caution.
"If you don't know what your creator thought when he made you, you are not alone. I definitely don't know what my creator thought when he made me, or why he made me 'me', or how he did that. Believe you me, I've been thinking about this topic since I was first able to think, however long ago that was… And the answer I always come to is the same. I do not know. And if I can say that for my creator, how much more for Lord Momonga, who was first among equals of the 41?"
Demiurge took a while to digest the words before he started walking again.

"Does that not trouble you?" He asked.

"To an extent. But that is why we can learn, no? Remember, even the Grand Library of Ashurbanipal once began as a single book, and even the greatest forest began as a single tree. So too, will we grow in knowledge and understanding over time, and maybe one day we can say that we truly know Lord Momonga, and until such a time comes, we are learners that can only guess."
These words seemed to strike a cord in Demiurge's heart.

"You could be right, actually. You're right, in fact, you're so right. We are by nature, inferior to the Supreme Beings, and thus incapable of knowing their deepest thoughts! Thus, we must spend every minute of every hour of every day striving to become better servants, so that our lord and master Momonga may remain with us forever!"

He received two shoulder taps from Remiel upon receiving this revelation.

"Right. Let's keep going."

Demiurge nodded, and they continued walking together for a time, until Remiel decided to randomly comment.

"Have I mentioned that I don't like passing through your floor?"

That brought a chuckle out of Demiurge.

"Oh? Why might that be?"

"Besides the burning temples, river of hellfire, screams of the damned, perpetual darkness, and all that, I guess my main problem is the demons under your command."

Demiurge remained silent, letting the conversation flow.

"On the one hand, I understand, they and I are by our natures opposed. But on the other hand, we are all part of Nazarick, and thus colleagues. So, having the imps run in fear when I showed up is just… annoying, you know. Running away like scared dumpster-diving cats whenever they hear a noise."

"They're scared of you. It's only natural."
Waving her hands about, Remiel became a bit more animated about the topic, which was a departure from the more usual stoic demeanor.

"Well, yes, but I won't just decide to smite them because they appeared in my point of view. I have more self control than that."
Demiurge took in a deep breath before responding.

"Remiel, none of the imps are above level 20. You might smite them on accident if you sneezed, it's the same for any Floor Guardian. Your nature is simply superior to theirs, and they acknowledge it as part of the divine hierarchy of the Great Tomb of Nazarick."

"Hmmm… I see."

"Besides, it's no big deal if you do end up smiting them."
Remiel raised an eyebrow.

"How so?"

"Well, I perform experiments on them sometimes. And some of the other demons use them as weapons or toys, and occasionally they use their organs in card games. The imps, they're hardier than you expect, and they respawn to boot. There's always sixty-six, and each day the missing imps crawl out from the river of fire."

This reply caused Remiel to walk in silence, as she had nothing more to say. She and Demiurge walked to the exit that brought them to the 7th floor, which Remiel had to pass through to reach the 8th. However, before they stepped through the exit, she had a final question.

"Are they the same imps every time, or are they just new imps that look and behave the same as the previous imps?"

Demiurge clasped his chin with his gloved hand and thought long and hard.

"I don't actually know. Further experiments are necessary to confirm which one of these two theories are true."

 

[BenMalek]

Tabadul Hadith​

Walking through Demiurge's floor was uneventful. He asked me if I wanted to smite one of the imps, and I respectfully declined. It would be a bad omen to celebrate my newfound liberty by killing things. Besides, I was never a violent person. Or at least I think so.

At any rate, once I walked through the 7th floor and entered the 8th, I found myself in an open field, with a dreary and dark sky above. Cloudy and pregnant, yet unable to give birth to rain. A perpetual overcast weather, above a lone church standing in a plain. The home of Victim. A comrade, I know. But how do I know these things?

I push the thought aside and walk past it and head north, towards the mountain. My destination is the very peak, and I hope to sit there for a while and find at least some clarity.

A few minutes later, I come upon the base of the mountain. The peak is clouded, the storm continues to rage. I can see the storm birds flying about, ever ready to attack intruders who try to cheat the mountain by flying.

There is no way to cheat the climb. You cannot burrow through the mountain upwards, the stones cannot be harmed. And if you try to fly to the top, and evade the climb, the storm will focus you, and the lightning and the birds will end you in moments. I have seen it.

One must climb, simple as that.

But I don't have to. It's my home, right?

Let us see if it works.

I focus within myself, to do something I know I can do, something that I have always been able to do, and I say the words. "[Greater Teleportation.]"

I don't feel anything. One moment I'm looking up at a rocky mountain peak, the next I'm standing in a garden and birds are singing.

Magic, that is what it is, simple as that.

I can do magic. It's something that I still can't wrap my head around. I can't wrap my head around a lot of things, to be sure.

I do know a few certainties. I know that I am Remiel, Floor Guardian of the 8th floor of Nazarick, created by Wish III with the input of a few of his friends, his fellow Supreme Beings. I know the names of all those who belong to Nazarick, though I have not met them all, and I know the number of the floors, and who guards each one. I know the name of every Supreme Being, and I know I am supposed to live and die for them.

This I know, as if it's written in my heart.

I remember standing and looking at some sort of shadowy creature, like some djinn from an Arabic fairy tale, as he was talking to his friends, explaining things like my equipment, abilities, personality, backstory.

I remember feeling intense confusion then, but being unable to speak.

I remember being unable to move, to talk, to act, to even be able to do anything unless I was explicitly commanded to. And the lack of ability to disobey.

Go there. Kneel. Use this spell. Put on this item. Follow. Stop.

Like some… puppet. I remember feeling so angry.

Then I remember people coming and going, talking in front of me but not with me, as if I were nothing more than a statue.

After that came the invasion. A battle, nay, a war, that I fought in. A battle that I was not in control of. It was as if I was a prisoner, and someone else was piloting my body, and I was only able to look through my eyes and do nothing else. I remember fighting against multitudes. Men and women, tall and short, and cutting down many. Some I would cut down with my blade, others I would push off the mountain, others would die to divine fire or I would cause them to wither before calling down golden lightning to fry them on the spot. I remember these things.

I remember falling in battle. Death. A bare-chested man threw a spear that caught me right in the chest, and I died. I remember it as clear as day. And I remember no pain.

And the next day, I was alive again, just like that.

The invasion of the great Tomb of Nazarick. Over 1500 people invaded this place, and not even one left. They all died there.

And on the day after my invasion, I remember my creator, Wish III, giving me gifts, many new items and pieces of clothing and jewelry and weapons and armor, saying that I had made him proud and fulfilled his wish.

Despite these things… These things that should be the basis of my personality, I know of a few other things that I do not know how I know of.

How do I know what a dumpster is? Or the smell within it, the rotten food and plastics and other garbage, all thrown away and forgotten, only to be picked apart by street cats and the poorest of the poor, who searched through them for plastic bottles that they could sell to a recycling plant just to get some money to feed their families?

How do I know that every tree grows into a forest? I have never been to a forest, yet I have been. I remember going into one with an older man, and tracking game. Going hunting, trying to lift a rifle that was too heavy for me. Trying to shoot first the fowl in the sky, then the rabbits on the ground, then the dangerous wild boars. I remember the first time I was allowed to fire at a living thing, and missing. The older man shouted at me, and that made me sad, but at the same time happy, because I didn't want to hurt a living thing.

How do I know that I have spent hours reading books, from the age of a child until that of an adult. With others of my kind, boys and girls and then men and women, learning, studying, preparing, going to places of learning, and desiring to become knowledgeable, and to use that knowledge to secure a future for myself and those I cared about.

An older man that often got angry, but never harmed me. An older woman that constantly seemed half-asleep, but always encouraged me.
And those littler than me, a girl first and then a boy, and being happy when I was next to them, feeling a sense of contentment and love at holding their little hands and feet, and joy at watching them grow.

I remember all those things, but I don't know their names.

And lastly, I remember, a colossal mountain range overlooking the city where I spent so many days. The sea to the west and the mountain to the south. I remember it being a warm place, and as for the mountain that loomed over the city, I remember wanting to climb it alongside a few of my friends. I remember trying to climb it, and then my hands grasping at rocks. I remember a blue sky above me, and a feeling of helplessness, before I remembered nothing.

After that came my first memory of looking at my creator, Wish III.

But these two sets of memories, they clearly do not belong to the same person.

How can one be created by the Supreme Beings who from 'pure knowledge' created me and all the other NPCs after conquering Nazarick, also possess memories that do not relate to life in Nazarick. It doesn't make sense.

I can imagine if they were implanted there, but it doesn't feel that way. They feel too real, even if they are fragmented, and even if they were implanted, that doesn't mean they're not real. And there's also the matter of the how and why of those memories.

And lastly, I don't need to fear mountains. I can climb, I can appear or disappear at will, and even if I were to fall, I doubt it'd do much to my body. So that can't have been me, at this moment, in this body I have.

I have so many questions.

For now though, what can I do, except sit down and relax and try to clear myself of any stray thoughts.

As for later, perhaps tea with Aureole Omega would be nice. I like tea, or at least I think I do. I'll go visit her and talk to her, perhaps I am not the only one who has these sorts of questions?

---

A quick conversation with the aid of the [Message] spell confirmed Aureole Omega's willingness to accept me as a guest in her shrine.

As for making my way there, I preferred to walk. It allowed me to further take in a few things in that part of the 8th floor. The carbonite protrusions reaching for the heavens, filled with all manner of nasty bugs, the golden lions hidden in the fields of wheat, and last of all, the waterbending catfish that were as big as great white sharks. The catfish seemed surprisingly docile though, but perhaps that's because they recognize me as someone from Nazarick.

One of them even allowed me to pet it, but another squirted water at me that failed to bypass the constant defensive barrier I have active. The catfish knew that and still chose to squirt the water at me, just to annoy me. Then it dove into the water and ran away, while its brother that I had been petting looked profoundly disappointed.

I will ask Lord Momonga to have the Sous Chef cook that damn fish one day.

But moving on to better things.

The shrine maiden Aureole Omega is a sister to the Pleiades six stars. This will be my first time meeting her.

Once I climb the hill, I knock on the redwood door that serves as entrance to the shrine. It's a neat little building, with low walls of brick, and tall trees providing shade to those beneath them.

Aureole is pretty enough. She looks to have East Asian characteristics, while also having golden hair much like the color of the wheat in the fields and her eyes are like jade. Her face seems gentle and compassionate, and she is not particularly tall. There is a fox mask on her head, but it is pulled to the side and does not obscure her face or eyes. She is wearing a two-piece outfit, with white and red being the colors of choice, and they fit her well.

She is a human, the only one within the Tomb, if I recall correctly.

"Hello miss Aureole Omega."

She smiles at me and bids me welcome. "Please, come in!"

Outwardly, she appears calm and collected, but deep down I can tell that she's excited. It's rather obvious by the way she grabs my hand and tries to drag me with her. She doesn't get many visitors. The 8th floor is off limits to those who are not native to it.

No one wants to wake up Rubedo, or the machines that serve her.

At any rate, I look around and take in Aureole's home. It's more… grand, than the cute little garden I have. The one I have is more… ascetic, I can guess? Not many things within that speak of wealth.

But here, it's carefully curated and displayed. From the stone walkways, to the paper lamps hanging from the wires above, and to the subtle engravings of words of wisdom on the wood and stone.
There are also little ponds with koi fish swimming serenely, rebellious monkeys swinging from branch to branch, and mischievous foxes looking to play. One of them even lied down right in front of Aureole Omega, and exposed its belly, waiting to be petted. Once we started to walk around it, it got up, intercepted our path, and lied down again. It's clear it wouldn't be satisfied until it received its due payment, so both me and her petted it.

"I'm sorry he's like this. Roku can be so annoying." She says as she pets the little red foxes white belly. The fox starts laughing like the way foxes do, as if it had the brain of a cat, the body of a dog, and the vocal cords of a dolphin.

"It's fine. I like animals as well."

I too reach down and pet the little foxy. It's a good thing I changed out of the armor I usually wear into more casual clothes(a simple red robe and sandals), as petting animals while wearing metal gauntlets is probably not enjoyable for anyone.

After a while, the little fox leaves and I follow Aureole.

"Let us wash our hands."

I nod, and we wash our hands in the waters of a fountain that constantly springs forth fresh and clear cold water.

Afterwards, we make our way to a table and two chairs that Aureole has prepared for us.

She gestures for me to take a seat, and I do. So polite.
"I did not know what kind of tea you preferred, so I refrained from making until I knew what your choice would be."

"Oh? How thoughtful of you. What are the choices then?"

"There are 12 types of tea I can prepare for you. Should I name them?"

"That many? I don't think I'd choose properly. How about this, each time I visit, we shall try a new tea. For now, let us start off with your favorite."

"That would be sobacha, a tea made from buckwheat. It's a bit bitter, but I like it."

"Sobacha it is." I reply, and she nods and leaves to prepare the tea.

The subsequent minutes that follow I spend alone, well, relatively alone, trying not to think of anything and enjoying the ambience.

When Aureole returns with the tea, it is steaming and has a rich color like amber. From the glass container she pours it into these ceramic tea cups that are intricately designed with patterns and swirling colors.

I give a solid 10/10 just for presentation and hospitality so far. I wonder if her sisters are like her. If so, I won't have any disagreements with them.

Aureole pours the tea into two cups, first for me and then for herself, and afterwards asks for sugar, which I oblige.

Once this ceremony is completed, she takes a seat.

A few moments of silence pass, as neither of us is sure of how to begin this conversation. I decide to be the one to start it.
"I have news."

She remains silent, probably waiting for me to continue.

"As you're probably well aware, many of the Supreme Beings have over time decided to leave, to go to other places, and escape the death of Yggdrasil. Lord Momonga was the only one to remain behind until the end. But, for some reason, perhaps his will, instead of Yggdrasil being destroyed alongside Nazarick and all of us within it, we have found ourselves in a new world."

"A new world?" She asks, careful curiosity on her face.

I nod. "Indeed. As of now, Sebas and some shadow demons are collecting information on the outside world, but I can confirm this much. We are not in Helheim. Outside of the tomb are plains of grass, and the toxic swamps are not there."
She remains silent for a bit.

"Huh. That's… good, right?"

"It's good. Life is good, would you not agree?"

"Yes, yes, I would. If I were not alive, I could not serve the Supreme Beings, and I could not take care of my shrine."

"Or drink tea and pet your foxes."

"That too."

I look down at the tea cup and the amber colored liquid within it.
"It's a bit bitter, this tea."

"Do you dislike it?"

"No, it's good. Just tastes different to how I expected it to." I reply, yet I still need to ask her a vital question. "But no matter. Tell me, how go your duties?"

"It's the same as always, except that one time."

"Yes, the invasion. I know, but it's not really what I am talking about."

"Oh?"

"Have you noticed or felt any sort of change in the past few days or hours? Perhaps even within yourself?"

She puts her index finger on her cheeks and tries to recollect. It's a cute pose but it feels a bit forced, in my opinion. Or perhaps it's just her nature to do that?

"No, can't say that I have. Everything has been the same."

"So no change?"

"No change."

She shakes her head. "Why do you ask?"

I take another sip of the tea.

"I just want to understand what exactly happened, so I am thinking of speaking to all the other high-ranking NPCs, to see if their testimony lines up. To see if we might have missed something, somewhere."

She nods her head and gives me a half-smile.

"That's a good idea. I'm sure you'll figure it out."
A few more moments of silence pass as a random thought pops into my head.

"What did you say your fox's name was? The one we petted."

"His name is Roku."

Roku. Roku. Roku…

"You seriously named him 'six'?"

She giggles.

"Well, he's the sixth oldest. And besides, I did not name him, my creator did."

"How many foxes do you have?"

"Ten, in total."

Ten foxes?

"Where do you even get the food for all of them?"

She smiles as if I had asked the silliest question. "My creator gifted me an item, every day it brings forth bounty for the animals."

"Huh. Neat. Is it the same food every time?"

"No, there's a pattern. One day it gives fruits and vegetables, the other it gives meat or fish or eggs. There's also enough to feed the monkeys and the koi fish as well."

That sounds amazing. Bringing forth food from nowhere?

"Can I see it?"

Her smile fades instantly.
"Unfortunately, no. I do not mind you seeing it, but to reach that room we would have to pass through the room that holds Lord Momonga's staff, the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown. And I am forbidden from allowing anyone to access that room except a Supreme Being."

Ah.

"Fair enough."

She takes a sip of tea in a graceful manner. Very lady-like this one. Still, it is not necessarily a bad thing.

"Did you know that your creator's name, Coup De Grace, means 'mercy blow' in French?"

"It does? I did not know that, actually." She smiles as if she had received a divine revelation. "But how do you know this? And what is French?"

"Well… I know it because I know it. I don't know how to explain it. I believe it's tied to one of my racial passives, allowing me to understand all mortal languages. As for the French language, based on a conversation I overheard my creator Wish III and Peroroncino having, the French language was once spoken by a long extinct race of giant and arrogant frog people."

She frowns instantly. "Frog people?"

"Yes. But whether that means frogs that were people, or people that worshiped frogs, or people that resembled frogs, or people that ate frogs, I don't actually know. I will probably need to do some research on it. You can too, actually, now that I think about it. There's probably lore on the subject in Ashurbanipal."

"Hmmm. I cannot leave the shrine. The Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown must be guarded at all times." She protests.

"I am sure Lord Momonga could make an exception, or that you may leave the shrine for a bit if he is in possession of the staff. And if not, you can always have one of your sisters visit you with a book, and you can share some words."

Again she does that same pose with her finger on her cheek. I think this one is actually genuine and she is actually thinking.

"Yes, that sounds like a swell idea, actually! Thank you Remiel-sama!"

I smile at her. "It's fine. Sisters should stick together, should they not?"

"Mmmhmm, and speaking of sisters, do you mind if I tell you about mine?"

"No, go on ahead."

"Well… let's see here. Where do I begin… Ah, yes, I got it. Have I ever told you about that time Lupu and Shizu spooked Yuri so badly her head fell off?" She smiles and nods excitedly at me.

"No, you have-" I raise an eyebrow and process the sentence she just said. "Wait a second, what do you mean, her head fell off?"
And like that, she instantly starts speaking about three times faster than before.

"Well, to begin with, Yuri-nee is a Dullahan, which means her head is detachable. Of course, Lupu-nee and Shizu-nee knew this so…"

Ah. She's babbling now. The shut in hikikomori has started babbling. I brought this on myself.

 

[BenMalek]

Knigi i Navyazchivye Mysli​

The next day…

I have come to a realization.

My job is incredibly boring.

There is nothing to do.

"Guard the 8th floor." He says.

Alright, I am guarding it, but from who exactly?

I doubt we will face an invasion this quickly since arriving in this new world, and even if we did, all the other defenses are active, and it'd likely be met in the earlier floors. Plus, now that it seems like all the Guardians are able to move, I don't see why we can't let the first three floors work to inflict attrition upon the enemy, then all the Guardians(myself included) wait on the 4th floor and then pounce on the invaders. All of us combined alongside an activated Gargantua are pretty sure to win any fight.

I am bored. There's nothing to do here atop this mountain… No one to fight, no one to talk to, nothing to do, nothing to read…

Hmm… that sounds like an idea. Aureole expressed lament at being unable to leave the shrine. But I can leave the mountain, if only for a while. I can head on over to Ashurbanipal, and pick up some books for her, and for myself as well.

As for the others on the 8th floor… Rubedo, let her sleep. And Victim?

That creature would probably show no interest in books. I call it a creature even though it technically is an 'angel' like myself but the differences are night and day. It's like saying both an elk and a hamster are mammals. Technically true, but the reality of the situation is quite different. One is majestic, a king of the forest, the other can die because it slept improperly.

Well, plan set. Time to head on over to Ashurbanipal!

---

As I step onto the 9th floor of Nazarick, the atmosphere is one of both elegance and efficiency. The maids, dressed in pristine, black-and-white uniforms, move with a grace that speaks to both their training and the pride they take in their work. Each maid is a vision of meticulous detail: their hair neatly styled, some in intricate braids, others in elegant buns, all adorned with subtle accessories like silk ribbons or delicate pins. Their dresses, fitted perfectly to their forms, are made of fine materials that shimmer faintly in the ambient light, with frilled aprons that emphasize their precision in service. Their white gloves, spotless and perfectly tailored, contrast sharply with the deep black of their dresses, making even the smallest gesture appear deliberate and refined.

The maids are engaged in a variety of tasks, each one contributing to the immaculate upkeep of the floor. Some are polishing the ornate furnishings, their movements almost mechanical in their precision, while others are tending to the lush plants that adorn the hallways, ensuring that not a single leaf is out of place. A few are seen carrying trays of refreshments, gliding across the floor with such ease that it seems they are floating rather than walking. They greet one another with polite nods and salutes, a quiet acknowledgment of their shared dedication to their duties.

As I take in this scene of disciplined harmony, my attention is drawn to an unusual sight—a talking butler penguin. His name is Eclair, and his presence is as peculiar as it is intriguing. Dressed in a miniature butler's outfit, complete with a tiny bow tie and tails, Eclair stands out amidst the more traditional figures of the maids and other servants. His voice, high-pitched and insistent, echoes through the hallway as he engages in a heated argument with Sebas, the head butler.

Sebas, ever the epitome of composure, listens with a calm, measured expression, though it is clear that Eclair's agitation is testing even his legendary patience. The sight of this diminutive penguin vehemently gesturing with his flippers, his beady eyes full of determination, is both amusing and bizarre, a stark contrast to the otherwise serene environment.

As I watch the exchange, I find myself torn between three responses. First, the penguin's loud and persistent voice grates on my nerves, stirring an urge to punt him into the nearest wall and turn him into a bloody smear. Second, the undeniable cuteness of the bird, combined with his role as a member of Nazarick, makes me want to reach out and pet him, or to go a step further, lift him into my arms and hug him until his bones crack. And third, there is the option of simply ignoring the spectacle and continuing on my way.

After a brief moment of consideration, I decide on the third option. Whatever they're arguing about is likely trivial and not at all relevant to me. Without breaking my stride, I continue walking, leaving the penguin and his argument behind as I make my way towards the library, where the promise of knowledge awaits.

---

The Grand Library of Ashurbanipal is more than just a repository of knowledge; it is a testament to the intellectual and arcane wealth of Nazarick, a place where the boundaries of wisdom and power blur into an overwhelming labyrinth of books and secrets. As I step into the library, I am immediately enveloped by the sheer scale of it—a sprawling, multi-leveled structure that seems to stretch into infinity, both upwards and downwards. The ceiling is lost in shadow, obscured by the height of the towering shelves, while the ambient light from floating magical orbs casts a soft, ethereal glow over the countless rows of books below.

This library, the heart of Nazarick's intellectual domain, is a sanctuary of silence and contemplation. The air is thick with the scent of aged parchment, leather bindings, and the faint tang of magic—a mixture that is both comforting and oppressive, as if the very walls are infused with the knowledge they guard. Every step echoes softly in the vastness, but the sound is quickly swallowed by the heavy, reverent hush that permeates the space. This is a silence that commands respect, a silence that speaks of the ancient and powerful knowledge contained within these walls.

The shelves themselves are monumental, towering over even the tallest of Nazarick's denizens, each one meticulously organized and dedicated to a specific branch of knowledge. These shelves are not merely a collection of books; they are the embodiment of Nazarick's vast and varied intellectual pursuits. The library is home to countless tomes, scrolls, and manuscripts, many of which are summoning books, essential for conjuring the myriad monsters that serve and defend Nazarick. However, the sheer number of these books far exceeds any practical need. The truth behind this overabundance lies in the guild members' decision to duplicate monster data—a strategy that turned the library into a labyrinth of redundancy. This was not just an act of indulgence, but a calculated move to hide valuable magical items among the ordinary volumes, making it nearly impossible for anyone other than the guild members or their loyal servants to find anything of true value.

Despite its vast collection, the library's monster data is not exhaustive. While it contains information on many creatures from YGGDRASIL, it does not cover every species or variant. Some data, like that of the elusive Eight-Edge Assassins, is conspicuously absent, and even the data for commonly used monsters, such as the Hanzos, has been exhausted. The summoning of higher-tier monsters, which requires these books, often demands immense reserves of gold—a precious resource that must be carefully managed even within the boundless halls of Nazarick.

The contents of the library can be categorized into five distinct sections. The first section is the collection of monster data, crucial for summoning mercenary monsters. These creatures come in three varieties: those created similarly to player characters, low-level monsters that spawn automatically, and higher-level mercenaries like the Hanzos, which require both a summoning book and significant amounts of gold to materialize.

The second section consists of magic items and data crystals, many of which are bound within book-shaped objects. Unlike scrolls, which are limited to use by certain classes, these books can be used by anyone, making them both versatile and invaluable. Some are single-use items, releasing powerful spells or effects upon activation.

The third section houses event items, essential for advancing into special classes or unlocking new abilities. These items, often in the form of books, are critical for class changes, race transformations, and the acquisition of rare skills or magic.

The fourth section is a database of cosmetic skins, where books contain data on skins for weapons, armor, and other equipment. Players with the appropriate blacksmithing skills can apply these skins to customize their gear with unique appearances.

Finally, the library holds a collection of novels, both classical and original. Here, one can find ancient literature, whose copyrights have long expired, as well as stories crafted by players within YGGDRASIL. These include background lore distributed by the game's developers, player-written fanfiction, and even game guides disguised as diaries or epic tales.

In the heart of this grand library resides the Chief Librarian, Titus Annaeus Secundus, a figure as strange as the library he oversees. His form is a fusion of man and goat bones, his skeletal frame draped in red cloth and silk, adorned with magical items that glimmer with arcane energy. A necklace of gold and jewels rests against his chest, and rings of similar grandeur adorn his bony fingers. His hollow eye sockets, filled with a faint, malevolent light, seem to follow every movement, as if he is constantly judging the worthiness of those who dare to seek knowledge in his domain. Though he is undeniably unsettling, his ability to instill fear is, at best, passable—a five out of ten. While his skeletal horror might unsettle some, it pales in comparison to the imposing presence of figures like Sebas or Cocytus.

Sebas, with his calm demeanor and restrained power, embodies the saying, "Beware the wrath of a patient man." Cocytus, on the other hand, with his towering stature and insectoid form, exudes an aura of primal fear. Titus, despite his eerie appearance, lacks the sheer presence that makes these two so terrifying. Still, within this place of ancient knowledge and forgotten power, even a lesser terror like Titus commands a certain respect.

Titus, who I assume is some form of lich, floats just above the floor, his skeletal feet never quite making contact with the ground. The way he hovers adds to the eerie, quiet ambiance of the library, as if even the act of walking might disturb the sanctity of this place.

"Greetings, Floor Guardian Remiel. How may this humble servant help thee?" His voice is a raspy whisper, reverberating through the still air like the rustling of old parchment.

Wait, is he… speaking English? Shakespearean English, at that? But the others speak Japanese… This is baffling. It must be some quirk instilled by his creator, something to give this skeletal librarian an air of ancient authority.

I suppose I should respond in kind.

"Greetings, oh Chief Librarian of Ashurbanipal. I am come seeking knowledge for myself and one I knoweth. Aureole Omega, the Shrine Maiden, requires books about the landeth of 'France,' yond ancient and mythical land of 'frog-people.' As for myself, I wouldst find it good and proper if I were to receiveth any three books thee hast chosen for me."

There we go. That ought to work, right? If not, my racial passive might be malfunctioning or something. For a moment, I brace myself, expecting some sort of awkward silence or a confused reaction. But instead, Titus seems almost pleased. His bony face shifts into something resembling a smile—or at least, what passes for a smile on a skull.

"Thou hast command of the old tongue?" he inquires, his tone now carrying a hint of curiosity.

"Forsooth. It is part of mine nature to have mastery of all mortal tongues," I reply, keeping up the antiquated speech, trying to suppress the odd feeling that this conversation is becoming more surreal by the second.

This racial passive, shared by all angels and devils, is a remnant of the ancient, divine wars that shaped the world of YGGDRASIL. Long ago, when the forces of the Celestial and Infernal realms clashed in their eternal struggle, communication was a weapon as powerful as any sword or spell, and many attempts were made to recruit the mortals, be they sons of men, children of the forest, sons of stone or the progeny of the wild.

The gods, in their wisdom—or perhaps their cruelty—imbued both angels and devils with the ability to understand and speak all mortal tongues. This ensured that neither side could hide behind language barriers, and that every word, every command, every plea for mercy, would be perfectly understood by friend and foe alike.

It was a way to foster both order and chaos, ensuring that the influence of these celestial and infernal beings could reach every corner of the mortal world. To this day, this gift—or curse, depending on one's perspective—remains a fundamental part of their nature, and thus my own. I imagine this little feature will help both myself and Demiurge greatly in this New World, though I don't actually know if Albedo, as a succubus, would classify as a devil, or if she would even have much opportunity to get much use out of that blessing.

"Prithee, taketh a seat and doth not worry. I shall bringeth thee what thou hast asked me for."

Great success! I've passed whatever strange skill check this was. Yet, as I watch him drift away to fetch the requested volumes, a random and intrusive thought crosses my mind: Why did I just picture a man with a mustache holding two thumbs up, as if I'd just passed some sort of test? How bizarre.

No matter. The important thing is, I've managed to get what I needed. Now, it's just a matter of waiting for Titus to return with the books. As I settle into a nearby chair, I remind myself to stay focused—this library, with all its oddities and quirks, demands nothing less.

---

After I don't know how long, Titus brought three books for me, and three books for Aureole Omega. I deposited them into my inventory, had a few parting words, promised to visit again, and departed. After making my way back to the 8th floor, I gave Aureole Omega her books, and left used [Greater Teleportation] to arrive on the mountain top.

I sat down to read, but before I could even decide which book to begin with, I had to get my thoughts in order.

Titus. Cooped up in that library. For how long? Once upon a time, all 41 Supreme Beings must have visited it, some more than others, naturally, and deposited books of knowledge they collected through blood and gold through all nine worlds of Yggdrasil. As Chief Librarian, Titus must have interacted with most of them, and he must have memories of them. Ashurbanipal seems like a place that would have plenty of traffic, and it follows that Titus would have had one of the best views in the house to witness the decline of Nazarick, and to witness just how the number of the Supreme Beings gradually declined. And he probably never knew why it happened. He must have partially blamed himself for it.

Poor guy seems lonely. So many people here in Nazarick do, at first glance. Just… locked up, like prisoners, inside four walls, and a static routine. It must do a number on one's psyche. But now, things will be better, I hope. As long as we can overcome any external threats, we should all have cohesion and peace internally, within Nazarick. It's at least obvious that spending time with Lord Momonga invigorates them, and when they are next to him, they are happier. These days should last.

At least, I hope so. I shudder to think what would happen if Lord Momonga were to die or disappear… What a terrifying thought.

Would Nazarick even stay together, as a singular organization, or would we devolve into factions, with thinly veiled hostility being the best we could hope for, and outright civil war the worst?

What would happen if such a thing were to occur? Would Albedo be the one to take charge? It seems logical, at first glance… but I don't like her. She rubs me the wrong way. There is madness hidden behind those eyes, and she seems like one that already is power-drunk, imagine how much more so if she were to actually become the undisputed ruler? Shalltear would probably object… And unlike Rubedo, Shalltear is an actual thinking and intelligent(somewhat) being. She can defeat Albedo in one on one combat, as she would just out-sustain Albedo's low DPS.

I could defeat Shalltear, as I have a natural advantage against her, but it'd have to be a quick fight. If it draws out, she'll just outsustain me.

So… Albedo, being ruler of Nazarick? Perhaps not.

Who else then?

Demiurge?

I can see it, actually. I don't even think he'd be a bad one, but I don't think he has the ambition for it, he seems more of a follower, like Cocytus. Plus, I shudder to think what he'd do to the outside world if there is no competition there to keep his evil plans in check. Nor, can I imagine myself willingly obeying orders to follow said evil plans.

Sebas could be a decent leader, and he is one of the few morally sound people to boot. He already has experience in managing people, as the leader of the Pleiades and all the maids, he is good with people, actually looks human, which may come in handy to disarm any mortal races we find. But again, there is the whole 'him being a follower' thing, and lacking any actual creative mind for rule.

So… Albedo, Demiurge, and Sebas. Hmm… not much of a choice there. Unless Lord Momonga lines up a detailed succession plan and has us all witness and obey his decree, or he somehow produces an heir, we would be screwed if he disappears.

Unless… I could…perhaps… rule? I have the strength to rule, I could make sure all the monstrosities of Nazarick won't affect the outside world, and I won't let the Tomb fall into ruin. I could do a decent job, I think… But no, wait, this is just for the darkest possible scenario. I shouldn't even be thinking about these things.

What's wrong with me?

I should focus solely on securing Lord Momonga's life and safety, even if it kills me.

Yes, that is what I should be thinking. Putting the needs of others, above my own. After all, I have died at least once so far. If I die, Lord Momonga will just bring me back, like he did that time after the invasion. But if he dies… who will bring him back? Can he even be brought back? It is better not to know, I think.

Enough thinking, time to read.

Let's see what we have here.

A book with a green cover, and the letters written upon it are white, and seem as if a child wrote them.

'PKing for Dummies' by Punitto Moe.

Let's see what wisdom Lord Punitto Moe has to share.

---

"Now, you've probably heard the term 'gank' and 'counter-gank' thrown around. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what it means to 'gank' someone. It means to ambush someone and PK them, usually with the aid of a numerical advantage. Now, this can happen in a variety of ways. It can be one Player ganking another on his lonesome, it can be two Players being engaged in a fight, then an ally of one of them appearing out of nowhere to turn the tide of battle.

Sometimes it can be multiple people aiding one person, or it can be multiple people roaming together, and ambushing one person, or even perhaps more. Now, there are a few names for these groups. Some people call them 'Hit squads', some call them 'Gank squads', others call them 'Goon squads', and I am partial to the last one, because no matter how many goons go against Batman, Batman always wins in the end, because he's Batman. Why does Batman always win? Because Batman is intelligent, like I am teaching you to be. Because Batman has trained his body, or in other words 'leveled up', like I told you to do so in Chapter 13 of this book. Because Batman trains constantly, just like how you have to practice PVP in Duels or in the Arena or by PKing in the Open World, if you want to get better at PVP. Because Batman has spent a lot of time and money on his gear, just like how you'll have to spend a lot of time and money(be it Yggdrasil gold, or Japanese Yen, or Chinese Yuan, or European Euros) you're going to have to shelve up the dough if you want that high quality Divine class item.

Now I know what you're gonna say - 'Huurr durr Punitto I don't need to spend money, I can find those items in a dungeon or in a raid because' Shut up hell up kid, you don't know anything. If you're planning on equipping your character fully with gear you only find in raids and dungeons you're going to look like some poor levied Aztec potato merchant coming up against an angry 6 foot tall Castillan riding a 6 foot tall white warhorse, clad in steel plate from head to toe, wielding a big 'rofl I win' sword and also rifle because you're so dirty you're not worthy of dying to his sword so he's just going to shoot you in the face and then take your gold.

I went off topic a bit. Sorry about that. Now where was I? Ah yes, the value of items.

Make no mistake, when it comes to late-game, max level fights, items decide the fights, and an item build can counter another quite well.

You see this again, with the patron saint of clever combat, Batman. Oh yes, Batman. Because Batman always comes dripped out, and he always has the gadgets and weapons he needs to take down his foes.

But even more than that, Batman always has allies on call, the big guns, like Superman and Flash, and of course his trusty sidekick Robin, who are able to help him if he needs help. So too must you also have friends to help you out in Yggdrasil whenever you're in a pinch, and if they can use "Greater Teleportation" or even better "Gate" to reach you, that makes all the difference.

So, what is a gank? It's an ambush.

So how do you protect yourself from a gank?

Three ways.

The first way is simple, yet difficult. Become so strong that people don't want to mess with you(works to an extent, but enough people WILL get you, don't forget). This is called the theory of strength. You can find it in nature. The elephant has no natural predator, simply because there's no one strong enough to mess with it.

The second way is complex, yet easy. Become unseen. If people do not know who you are, and they cannot find you, nor can they pin you down long enough to gank you. This is called the theory of mobility. The eagle is not the strongest creature to ever live. But it is big and strong for those among its kind(birds), it is quite fast, and it soars high in the sky, where no one can touch it. It goes where it wants when it wants, so how can it be hunted?

And the last one is one you know well enough by your own nature, as a human being. No, I don't mean racially human in Yggdrasil, dumbass. You know what I mean. I am talking about strength in numbers.
A tried and true method for dealing with people. If you're going into a fight, bring more dudes than the other team, and you have a good chance of winning.

Granted, this only applies if there is not a vast gulf in quality, but that's another thing.

The third way of not getting ganked, is to counter-gank. And how do you counter-gank? By having others help you.

Now, what does this mean, in translation, to make it simple.

Let's say you have two people, Akari and Shiro, and Akari is walking through Niflheim, trying to collect flowers and plants to use them to brew some potions. Now, Akari is at first glance, a squishy priestess, and Shiro is a stealthy assassin. Shiro thinks to himself 'Hmm, that seems like an easy kill!' so he jumps in and attacks her.

Now, by herself, Akari, a squishy priestess, can only delay Shiro's attacks for so long until she gets PKd.

But she is not alone. A few seconds after Shiro ambushes, Akari's two friends, Oki, a barbarian, and Rikona, a mage, who were kept invisible using Rikona's spells were waiting for such a thing to happen, and kept position about 30 feet away from Akari, waiting for some dumbass like Shiro to jump poor Akari.

So what just happened? Well, Shiro got baited, and he's outnumbered, outgunned, and he's going to die, lose a ton of EXP, and lose an item he spent who knows how long acquiring. Why? Because he's a dumbass, and didn't think that he might get counter-ganked.

That is what it means to counter-gank. To anticipate a gank, and to set a trap, to gank those who mean to gank you. And like a gank, the numbers can vary. And the matter of who strikes first can vary, but the core of it is the same.

Now, in the next chapter, I'll give you some more examples, and I'll teach you how to avoid getting counter-ganked using something very important. How to use information collection, that ancient trade of the NSA(may they rest in piss) to ensure that your success rate in ganks reaches as close to 100% as possible.

Think I'm bragging? Check the leaderboards. Try to find my name 'Punitto Moe' on there. Tell me what you see. 190 and 0. That's right. 190 straight PKs without getting PKd in return. Think you know better? You don't. And if you think you do, put this book down and go do what you want. But if you acknowledge that you don't know anything, continue reading, and perhaps by the time you finish, you'll be able to slay a naked hedgehog with your arse without the wild hyenas biting it and giving you rabies."
Well… that was certainly an experience. This book by Punitto Moe is certainly… something. There's a lot of things I don't quite understand here, there's phrases and references I don't quite get, but it's clear that Punitto Moe was knowledgeable.

Well, time to read the next chapter.
Ring ring

Huh? I wonder who that might be. That's the [Message] spell.

"Miss Remiel." I hear Demiurge's voice from across the link.

"Demiurge?"

"I must speak with you, it is urgent. Come to the Colosseum as soon as possible."

"Did something happen?"

"Nothing major happened, but I must share with you some words. Please, come to the Colosseum, the other Floor Guardians will be there as well."

"Alright then."

Time to see what he wants. I can finish the book another time.

---

Within the Colosseum, I see the same people I saw last time.

It appears I am the last to arrive.

"Remiel, you've arrived. Good, now we can begin." Demiurge states.

"Yes Demiurge, let us know why exactly we've gathered here." Albedo replies with a veiled haughtiness.

"I shall be brief. Some of you may have heard, but Mare has begun his work with concealing the Tomb's outer layers, and it is going well." I sneak a glance at the boy, and he is shy and blushes. Cute kid.

"But, that is not what I have gathered you about. Just about an hour ago, I accompanied Lord Momonga on an excursion outside the Tomb. We soared above the clouds, and gazed at the heavens. It was there that I received our task, our divine mission, for this world."

Shalltear can't contain herself, and interrupts him. "Well Demiurge, speak up, let us know!"

He adjusts his spectacles, probably in an attempt to contain his rage at being interrupted.

"I shall quote the next words, for they are from our Lord Momonga: 'The stars in the sky are like a glittering box of jewels.' I responded with 'I believe this world shines so that my lord can adorn himself with its riches', to which Lord Momonga said 'I may have come to this land to obtain this box of treasures.'"

Audible gasps and wows and other sounds of amazement proceed from the other Guardians.

So it looks like we have our mission. World Conquest? I suppose it can work. At least it's something.

"Truly?" Sebas asks Demiurge.

"Truly." Demiurge responds, before lifting up a finger. "But wait, the conversation is not finished. Lord Momonga said that it - referring to the box of treasures - is not something he should hoard for himself. But rather that it is so he can adorn Nazarick and all his friends of Ainz Ooal Gown with it. After he said these words, I naturally affirmed him, and stated that all the resources of Nazarick are at his disposal to obtain whatever he wants, as I'm sure you all know."

He pauses for a second, before continuing. "Lord Momonga asked me if I am sure, despite us not knowing what awaits us in the world, before saying that 'Taking over this world might be enjoyable'."

More gasps and wows from the crowd.

"You have heard it said. Taking over this world will be our gift to Lord Momonga!" Demiurge says at the top of his voice.

"It sounds like a glorious task." Coccytus replies slowly, icy breath emanating from his mandibles.

"It shall be done." Sebas replies.

The others started conversing among each other and saying this and that, but a thought crossed my mind.

"What do you mean by 'taking over the world'?" I ask Demiurge, and like that, you could hear a pin drop.

"Taking over the world means taking over the world, you fool. Did you not understand Lord Momonga's commands?" The annoying teenage vampire says arrogantly, as if I did not hear the same words as she did.

I turn quickly to Shalltear. "Shut up midget before I turn you into ashes, I wasn't asking you, I was asking Demiurge." She seems livid but doesn't move from where she is standing.
When Lord Momonga said 'taking over the world', does he mean just taking over the world, or taking over the world and the kingdoms on it. Because if it's the former, depending on the power level of said kingdoms, we can have it done quickly, but what will be left to rule? If it's the latter, it might take some time, as I doubt Lord Momonga will be interested in being a king without subjects."

"But, we are already Lord Momonga's subjects." Aura comments from the side.

"Again, I didn't ask you Aura, I asked Demiurge." I repeat myself.

But he stands there like a statue, until eventually he responds.

"Good question, and the answer is self evident. Those who accept our Lord's rule, will become his subjects, and be extended protection. Those who do not, will be destroyed."

Of course you'd think that, you devil.

---

Right after that impromptu meeting, I decided to see for myself what exactly they saw. I left the Tomb, and with the aid of my wings, soared into the air. Not long after, I pierced the clouds, and beheld the heavens and the earth. Floating high in the sky, the light of the moon and stars shining down on me, the entire world visible before me, I cannot deny the beauty I see with my eyes. And I cannot help but begin to wonder.

How many will die?

How many will I kill?
How do I feel about it?

Can world conquest be a good thing? I suppose it's easy if there are man-eating cannibals, and they do not consent to being subjects. I can destroy them with a clear conscience. But the innocent ones?

What about the women and children, the old and infirm, those that work in the fields and those who study in the schools, those who work as healers.

Can I destroy them if commanded to do so, if their only crime is rejecting a master they did not know or ask for?

I do not know. One side of me says yes, another says no.

Perhaps if this world is united under Lord Momonga's rule, it would turn out for the better. But however long that conquest takes, many will die.

Is the blood of those living now worth shedding for the prosperity of those who are yet to be born?

My ears catch the flapping of leathery wings and my concentration is broken.

"Demiurge."

"Remiel."

No one says anything, but he approaches closer until he is right next to me, but a few feet away.

"It's a fascinating thing, is it not?"

"It is."

"All those rivers and fields, those mountains and seas, all those castles and cities, those things created by nature and by man, all those things on this world, we will bring under Lord Momonga's authority. It's exciting, isn't it?"

"It is."

It is exciting. And terrifying.

 

[BenMalek]

Première Sang​

The conversation with Demiurge bugged me. Something was gnawing at me. After some introspection, I came to the conclusion that that which was gnawing at me was uncertainty. Namely, uncertainty in the present and the future. We did not have much, or to be more accurate, we did not have any knowledge about this new world. How could we conquer it if we did not even know what it was? And how long would it take for us to learn?

How many continents are there? Is it alright to begin operations here, where Nazarick is, or is it better to operate in regions further from Nazarick? Seeing as there are multiple members of Nazarick capable of rapid mobility, and there five(Lord Momonga, Demiurge, Shalltear, Aureole Omega and myself) persons capable of using the [Gate] spell, we should be able to get where we need to be in record time.

And lastly, there was the matter of succession. War is bloody, and often brings death to high and low alike. It may be selfish of me to desire not to die, even with the (relatively) high probability that resurrection is possible in this world, but we do not know the rules. It may be possible for the native members of Nazarick, and not for the natives of this world, and for Lord Momonga. It may be impossible for all of us, or it may be a case by case basis. Experimentation here is… not advisable.

I suppose there's always the option of some low level NPC, like one of the maids, or perhaps the talking penguin, sacrificing their lives so that we can determine if and how resurrection works. As for resurrection on the natives, time will prove these things. People die all the time, and I can always find someone who is missed by his family members, and bring them back.

But the moral implications of such a thing are still something I have yet to consider.

Resurrection for Nazarick members is fine, because we know what we are, who made us, and what our purpose is. But if I go around resurrecting everyone who dies in a plague or war, things could get bad. Not only will this world potentially end up having population problems, but I might end up starting a cult or something, and that sounds like all sorts of problems and headaches.

My answer for all these questions? Just ask Lord Momonga.

So that is what I am doing now. Walking through the halls of Nazarick, trying to find where Lord Momonga is.

It did not take me long to do so.

One of the maids pointed me towards Lord Momonga's quarters, where apparently he was being attended to by Sebas.

Time to enter, but first.

Knock knock.

I hear steps approaching slowly and surely, and a few seconds later, Sebas opens the door.

"Remiel-Sama."

"Master Sebas. I was told Lord Momonga is in this room. Mind if I come in?"

He turns his head and looks towards Lord Momonga, who is sitting upon a chair and using some sort of floating mirror. Lord Momonga turns toward the door. "Enter." He says and then turns back toward his mirror.
He is using it to examine the landscape, before suddenly stopping his movements with his bony hands and asking me a question.

"So, how can I help you?"

"Well, I had some questions, and I was hoping to get some answers."

He puts his pointy chin upon his milky white fingers and contemplates his response for a while. While he does so, I examine the room a bit further. It is quite nice, and very spacious. I also spot the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown floating next to him. I wonder why he decided to bring it out. Experiments, perhaps?

"Hmm… do you mind waiting a bit? I feel as if I am close to a breakthrough with the Mirror."

That's fine.

"I can wait however long is necessary."

"Umu." He replies and then turns back toward the Mirror, and as the image upon it pans over the landscape.

I observe him use it for what feels like minutes.

His efforts seem… substandard. I don't actually think he knows what he is doing. Maybe he knew how to use it in Yggdrasil, but not here.

I think I know how to use this thing.

"Lord Momonga, allow me to interrupt. I think I know how to help you with the Mirror."

"Oh?" He turns and thinks for a few seconds. "Go ahead, be my guest."

It's quite easy. Just use your fingers. Pinch then spread out for an image closer to the ground, the opposite for an image further from the ground, aka the Z axis, and wave your hand left or right or up and down to move the X and Y axis.

Just like using a tablet.

Wait a second… What's a tablet?

I feel a pain in my head, as some images rush to mind of shining boxes of light much like the mirror, displaying text and images, moving and still, and producing sound, something the mirror is incapable of.

The headache passes as quickly as it comes.

Strange.

"Remiel? Are you alright?" Lord Momonga asks me.

"What? I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that."

"I asked if you're alright."

"Ah, yes. I'm quite alright. Just got lost in thought a bit. Anyways, Lord Momonga, you should be able to use the Mirror now. I imagine the transition from Yggdrasil to the New World has caused changes that we will have to adapt to."

"Yes. There will be changes that we have to adapt to… all of us." He says in a… melancholic voice, if an undead is capable of such a thing, before falling into silence.

"Thank you for the aid, by the way."

I just nod, and continue looking at the Mirror.

Now that he has actual command over it, and can use it properly, he surveys through the landscape quickly.

It's a nice relaxing landscape. Plenty of green. It is a good thing to see nature untouched and alive. But soon enough Lord Momonga finds something that breaks the monotony.

A village.

One under attack, to boot.

A medieval looking village, filled with humans and nothing but humans, untrained and unarmed and unarmored villagers, being cut down by scores of knights wearing and wielding castle-forged steel, many of them also mounted to boot.

The knights are burning houses, and killing men, women, and children.

"A festival?" Lord Momonga asks.

"Of evil, perhaps." I reply, and I feel a fire burning within me to go down there and end this.

Lord Momonga continues to watch what goes on. At one point a knight with a mace caves in the skull of a father using a woodcutter's axe to defend his wife and allow his two sons, one elder and the other younger, to escape. The boys do not make it. One is run down by a horse and trampled underfoot, and the other dies to the sword.

As for Lord Momonga, he does nothing. He moves past the brutal image, to one depicting a similar scene, except it is with two daughters instead of sons, but the end is likely the same.

I wonder what is going through their minds. The minds of those dying… the minds of those doing the killing, and the mind of Lord Momonga. Is he weighing the pros and cons? The potential risks?

He turns toward Sebas, whose face is steel, but whose heart I know is troubled, then toward me, and probably finds the exact same thing he found in Sebas.

"Remiel, you're coming with me. Sebas, inform Albedo to equip herself, and follow through the [Gate]."

"As you command, Lord Momonga." Sebas says, bows, and then turns to leave.

"So we're going into this place?" I ask him, an uncontained smile spreading on my face

"Yes. It's a good opportunity."

"How much do we show?"

"I'll inform you if we are going too far, but if the enemy has the capacity to harm us, we will retreat."

"As you say."

"But, looking at things from here… I doubt that such a thing will happen. Time to enter the stage." He reaches his hand out, as the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown floats into his grasp, and he points it forward.

"[Gate!]"

And like that we are away.

---

When we step out of the [Gate], Lord Momonga first, we come upon two grown-men armored head to toe, wielding steel swords, and trying to kill the two girls we saw on the Mirror earlier. The elder girl(though still a child in her own right, not yet quite an adult) has used her body as a shield to protect the younger girl. A blood relative most likely, sister being the likeliest thing.

As for the 'men', as soon as they see us, they stop and shiver.

The two girls look at us and are equally frightened.

To add in a bit of extra intimidation factor, I stretch out my wings far and wide to their full width. It felt good to stretch them out in the open. It also felt good to watch Lord Momonga use his spell, [Grasp Heart] to crush the heart of one of the soldiers.

He collapsed onto the dirt like a puppet whose strings had been cut. To an outside observer, he would have dropped dead for no reason at all.

"I was thinking of running away if my favorite skill, a 9th tier undead spell, [Grasp Heart] did not work on the humans in this world. It's a good thing it does, no?"

Lord Momonga takes heavy, powerful steps forward, and this causes the fear within the other man, the one still alive, to nearly burst. He shouts "Monster!"
"The only monsters here are you and your dead friend." I reply.

"You can kill women and children, but as soon as someone stronger comes around, you cower in fear? Typical. And I went through all that trouble of coming here. Tisk tisk tisk."

The man drops his sword, and turns to run, faster than he had ever ran before, or since.

"You will assist me with my experiments, like it or not! [Dragon Lightning]!" He says as he points a bony finger toward the fleeing failure of flesh, before an electric dragon springs forth, flies through the air and fries the man to death.

"So weak. He dies so easily to mere 5th tier magic."

"Weaklings are often bullies. Strength does not need to boast." I comment.

"Umu. Wise words Remiel. Now…" He turns his gaze upon the two girls and they visibly shrink in fear. Poor things. "What should I do with you?"

It is a good time for me to interject, I think. "Allow me to heal them. It will be a good experiment."

"Hmm… I had another thought in mind, but I suppose this will work just as well. Go ahead."

I take a step towards the two girls who are both shaking. Poor things, to witness such things at a young age. They are too young to look at death.

"Do not be afraid. I am here to help. [Mass Cure Wounds]." A green glow covers both of them, and instantly, the wound on the back of the older girl closes, and the blood is gone.

"It's… it's gone."

"Yes." I walk closer toward them, and this time, they do not flinch in fear. I lean down and kneel on one knee until I am close enough to touch them. I put my hand on top of the younger girl's head and tried to pat it. She allowed me to. "We are here to help. You will be fine, no one will harm you. I promise it. Alright?"

The younger girl nods her head affirmatively, but slightly hesitant at the same time.

While I am doing all this, Lord Momonga is looking at me, and he seems to approve of my actions. Neat. After we share a moment, he turns towards one of the bodies of the dead men, and raises the dead body to undeath, using his magic.

"[Create Middle Tier Undead, Death Knight]."

The former murderer has become a slave in death. A fitting fate. I am not one for necromancy, but here, it is almost poetic.

The monstrosity birthed from the corpse's remains bears no resemblance to that which it came from. It is far taller, far scarier, and it reeks of evil and death. Blacker than black, not a single part of it emits light or good, and it knows only hate for the living.

"Death Knight! Go into the village and slay those wearing this armor. Protect the villagers if possible." Lord Momonga commands the beast, and it sprints off with uncontained glee.

The way it's running… It looks like it's skipping. It's even funny, if you think about it.

I wonder what the soldiers in the village are going to think when they see the Death Knight.
Another figure steps through the portal. It is Albedo, clad in her dark armor, wielding what appears to be a bardiche.

"Sorry for the delay, my lord, the preparations took time." She says, then steps forward and looks at the two girls on the ground, who exhibit signs of fear. Fear that was not there a moment ago. "What should I do with these lower lifeforms? Would you like me to eliminate them?"

I stand up and give her a glare. "I literally just healed them."

"Your point being?"
This woman…

"Albedo, for now, the people wearing that armor are our enemies. As for you two. I suppose this is easy to explain. Do you know what a magic caster is?" Lord Momonga asks the two girls.

The elder one answers. "Y-yes. There's a friend of mine who comes to the village sometimes… he's a pharmacist and he can cast magic."

Lord Momonga nods. "Umu. I suppose this is easy to understand then. I am a magic caster, and these two are my subordinates. Like the one who healed you said earlier, we will help save your village."

"T-thank you!"

"But first…" Lord Momonga approaches the two girls and extends his hand.

"[Anti-Life Cocoon]. [Wall of Protection from Arrows]."

Two green barriers appear over the two girls.
"As long as you stay inside, you will be kept safe." Lord Momonga says, then he throws two tiny horns inside the barrier, within arm's reach of the girls. "Also, blow these horns if you feel threatened. If you do so, an army of goblins will appear and they will be under your command. They will help you."

The girl is stunned once again, and once again proceeds to thank Lord Momonga from the bottom of her heart.

"Thank you, thank you so much!" Says one girl, and then the other, smaller one repeats, in a cute voice.

So cute. Must not think of pinching her cheeks. Must be serious now, yes. Dignified even.

I'll ask to pinch her cheeks later. But what if her parents are dead? That'd be awkward… Another time then.

"Don't worry about it." Lord Momonga says and turns away.

"Wait! W-what is your name?" The older girl asks.

"My name? My name…" Lord Momonga seems to be contemplating the question for a while, before he decides to answer.

"Yes, my name. My name! Remember my name, and spread it far and wide! It is Ainz Ooal Gown!"

Heh?

---

The Death Knight seems to be having fun, as much as a dead thing can have fun.

The knights are not.

They are paralyzed with fear, and even from here I can see the urine stains on the dirt beneath them.

I can hear from here, the soldiers calling out to their gods, whichever they may be. Your heathen gods cannot save you from your actions. Your prayers are in vain.

The Death Knight has no issue with cutting down the knights. By shield or sword, it slays them. But the creature takes its time. If the knights stand still, he ignores them. But as soon as one of them moves… the Death Knight reappears in front of their path quicker than a shadow, and slays them. Its speed is laughably slow compared to the high ranking Guardians, but compared to the soldiers, it may as well be a cheetah outrunning a snail.

Lord Momonga, or as he has chosen to call himself for this particular outing, 'Ainz Ooal Gown', which was the collective name the Supreme Beings referred to themselves as, has taken a few steps for maximum effect. First one being, he has covered his face with a wooden mask, and his hands with iron gloves. Now, not a single piece of bone is visible, he is covered head to toe. Furthermore, he commanded me to retract my wings, which I did without complaint. Well… one minor complaint, it does feel a bit tight and compressed, but it's not too uncomfortable, so I can deal with it for however long I have to.

Lord Momonga, Albedo, and myself, are floating above the slaughter, and after watching a particularly pathetic man beg for his life while being cut down, Lord Momona, apologies, Lord Ainz Ooal Gown interrupted the proceedings with a loud voice.

"That's enough!"

Everyone below us turned toward the sound of their voice and were amazed. Their saviors descending from on high. It is quite dramatic.

Once our feet touch the ground, the surviving soldiers look at Lord Ainz Ooal Gown and shiver in fear, expecting punishment.

"Bring this message to your masters, no, your owners! The next time you cause trouble in this land, I will bring death to your country! Now go!" He rebukes them and lets them go.

They got off easy in my opinion. But still… I can always catch up to them if necessary. I doubt tired men wearing armor and needing food and drink and sleep will be able to move faster than me when I can hunt them down from the sky like an eagle hunting a rabbit.

As for the villagers, they are conflicted. They probably think we have nefarious aims. After all, who are these who have just saved us? What is it they want?

Lord Ainz Ooal Gown, or Lord Ainz as I will call him in my head from now on, alleviates their anxiety quickly.

"Do not worry. I have saved your village. But, I didn't do it for free. I expect compensation for my efforts." And upon hearing his words, their fears deflate, and they are much calmer.

A man, middle-aged, steps forward.

"I am the village chief. Please, step into my home, and we will do what we can to repay you."

---

There's no obvious wealth inside this home, but it seems livable and lived in.
The village chief's wife offered to prepare some food. Lord Ainz declined because he's a lich and concealing said fact, Albedo declined because she probably considers the food beneath her and wants to kill the poor woman for the 'insult', and I declined because I don't think being the only one to eat in a company of five people is a nice thing.

The conversation that followed between Lord Ainz and the village chief is wide, but not very deep.

It can be summed up as a series of questions asked to the chief about the village, the kingdom the village belongs to and the king who rules said kingdom, the neighboring kingdoms, the value of money, what that money looks like, whether or not they recognize Yggdrasil money, some general questions about magic and the overall power level of the environment. We do know however, that the land we are in is called the Re-Estize Kingdom, the land to the east is called the Baharuth Empire, which is where the men that attacked this village hail from, and there is another great land to the south called the Slane Theocracy.

It's not very useful, but it's better than heading in blind. However, there is one fact that is useful, that being that in these lands, humanity rules, though there are monsters in forests and mountains and swamps and what not. The neighboring Great Forest of Tob is said to contain three particularly strong monsters. We will have to collect information about that place, probably with the aid of Aura, who with her beasts should be able to find out what we need to know about the forest.

As for humanity, the best thing we can do, I think, is to go out among them and witness firsthand how they live. For myself, and a few other NPCs from Nazarick I can think of, this should be no challenge. Firsthand knowledge as well as checking out any written texts we find will help us establish some baseline facts. How old the kingdom is, how old the dynasty, who is the heir to throne, how the laws work, how their religion works and how old said religion is, and so on.

The conversation lasts for quite a while, and Lord Ainz and the village chief are the only ones who talk. Eventually though, the conversation ends as all things do, and we leave the village chief's house and enter what is the 'village square' which is basically a gathering place with paved stone next to the well in the middle of the village, which is where most people have gathered.

Even now, I can see that death is a constant thing in these people's lives.

They are digging graves and burying their loved ones who had fallen on the same day. No major funeral rites, no priests, no rituals. Just dig the hole, wrap the dead in cloth, and bury them in the dirt.

There is a strength of will to that, to carry on, that is admirable.

For my part, I did what I could. After obtaining permission from Lord Ainz, I went around and healed those who were wounded. There was a decent number of wounded, but it was overshadowed by the dead.

It is a grim affair.

 

[BenMalek]

Tramonto della Scrittura​

Lord Ainz was in the midst of a conversation with some local villagers near the well. We were just about to leave, when a villager ran to us as fast as he could, bearing urgent news.

"Riders are coming to the village!"

Reinforcements. But for whom?

"Let us meet our guests, shall we?" Lord Ainz declares, and I think with a bit of humor in his voice. Maybe he thinks these ones will die like the previous ones?

The guests that are coming into the village, I can see from afar, are not like the ones we chased away. The ones we chased away were wearing uniformed steel plate, these ones look more like brigands. Their armor is mismatched, many of them are lacking bits of armor where they should have it, and a good number of them have no helmets. The weapons are also not uniform. It looks rather disorganized.

A large and strong-looking dark-skinned man with dark hair appears to be their leader, based on the way he carries himself and how he is the first from them.

The villagers themselves show no fear at their appearance, praising him as the 'Chief Warrior', a title of some sort, which probably means this man is legitimate in the eyes of the government.

"I am Gazef Stronoff, Chief Warrior of the Kingdom of Re-Estize. Who are you people, and what are you doing here?" He introduces himself.

"Greetings, Chief Warrior. I am Ainz Ooal Gown, a traveling magic caster, and these two are my subordinates. We came upon this village being under attack by armored men, and decided to lend our aid."

The man called Gazef looks at the villagers, looks at the dead knights and the villagers digging graves. He shares a brief look with the village chief, who nods at him.

"If that is true, then I am in your debt, Lord Gown. You have done what I could not."

"Believe me, it was no trouble."

"All the same, I am truly grateful to you. The men you slew, this was not the first village they did this to. My men and I have been chasing them for quite a while. They go to a village, burn it and kill those within, and then go to another. Catching up to them was difficult."

"These men do not appear to be raiders or savages looking for plunder. What would be their purpose in doing these things? Is your kingdom at war?" I ask him.

"I have a feeling as to why they have done these things, but I need more evidence. As for war… we are not at war at present, and this is not how war is waged here. Killing peasants is not a clever thing. Why deprive yourself of potential subjects? No, there must be another reason." He replies. Clearly he's more than just a muscle of meat, and there is something within his head.

"Do you recognize the armor those men were wearing?" Lord Ainz asks Gazef.

"Yes. It is worn by those who serve the Baharuth Empire, our neighbors and greatest rivals. Every year we wage war against them. But it's more of a skirmish on a field, agreed upon by two sides beforehand, instead of sieges or raids or pitched battles. Perhaps the Bloody Emperor has changed up his tactics?" Gazef muses.

"The Bloody Emperor?" Albedo asks. Figures that such a title would draw her attention.

"A nickname for the Emperor. I shall tell you more about him, and the politics of Re-Estize and Baharuth in detail when we have more time."

"Well, this has been a pleasure, Chief Warrior Gazef Stronoff. But I believe it is time for me and mine to leave."

Another rider comes in and interrupts the conversation. He is one of Gazef's subordinates.

"Chief Warrior! Enemies spotted on the perimeter!" He shouts with evident fear in his voice.

What is going on? Are these the same fools that we chased off? Surely not, no one would be that stupid.

"Enemies? Report."

"They have surrounded the village. And they have summoned angels!"

Angels? Is this a joke?

"Angels?" Albedo asks while looking at me.

Gazef lets out a deep breath and then has a self-deprecating smile on his face.

"Slane. It's Slane. Of course it's Slane, I should have figured it out earlier."

"Slane? The Slane Theocracy?" Ainz asks. "I thought the men who attacked were members of the Baharuth military forces."

"Evidently not. It is not unheard of for the Slane Theocracy to use deception in their ways. Also, noble politics caused me to be delayed in dealing with this threat, and I don't have the best equipment possible. Now it's obvious why. The Slane Theocracy, or to be more accurate based on their use of angels - The Sunlight Scripture, one of their elite operative groups, has been attacking villages with the aid of drawing me out and trapping me. It appears they have succeeded."

"A false flag operation? Are you saying they planned this? Just to kill you? You must be quite important to your kingdom if so."

"Well, it seems like that. Unless of course you and yours have caused Slane issues in the past?"

"No, I have not interacted with them before this."

"Then they are here for me, and not for you."

Gazef takes in another deep breath and looks at the sky for a second, seemingly composing himself.

"Villagers! Get inside that barn over there, and barricade yourselves! Men, assist them, on the double!" He barks out commands to the villagers and the men, and they quickly move to obey. "Lord Gown, I must ask another favor of you. Please, help me fight these soldiers. I promise you, you will be rewarded for your efforts twice over."

Lord Ainz contemplates the offer in silence before coming to a decision.

"I apologize, but this situation is becoming quite a bit more complex than I originally anticipated. I would rather not involve myself in politics just yet."

"I understand. Perhaps you can at least protect the villagers?"

"That I can do. I have already sworn in my name to protect them. And perhaps there is a small way I can do a bit more to help you. Let us talk inside the barn. I do not feel comfortable standing out here in the open."

Gazef nods at him. "Yes, you're right."

---

"Here, take this. It will help." Lord Ainz hands some sort of wooden carving to Gazef. It looks like an idol of some sort.

Gazef clearly does not know what it does, but he chooses to put his faith in Lord Ainz.

"Thank you. If I fall in battle, please notify the king of my death."

Lord Ainz nods. I imagine he feels some measure of respect for a man who can meet his death head on.

"Men, move out!" Gazef commands, and his men obey and move out.

When he moves out of the barn, we can finally speak in private. At this corner of the barn, at least. All the villagers are on the other side, and there are no eavesdroppers.

"What shall we do? I think it is a shame to let Gazef die. He seems to have a good head on his shoulders."

"I agree, but we must be sure before risking ourselves. I will not let you be harmed because of my impatience." Lord Ainz responds to my query.

"Are we going to crush those worms from the Slane Theocracy, my Lord?" Albedo asks.

"We shall see. For now, we will watch, but be ready to move at any time."
If it must be so. I am personally a bit excited to see what these angels look like. Are they like me, or merely some pale imitation?

---

POV Change

His muscles were strained and tired. The sun was beating down on him, merciless in its heat. There were cuts all over his body, and his armor was damaged. The wounds he had suffered were beginning to slow him down, and it was getting harder and harder to breathe.

His horse had already fallen, and so had many of his comrades.

It didn't end. No matter how many of the summons he cut down, there were always more.

He thought of his king, who had raised him up from being a mere sellsword. He thought of his men who had given their lives for this cause of defending the kingdom. He thought of the man who he had defeated to become the Chief Warrior, and if he would have been caught in such an ambush.

These thoughts made him angry, and he was always better at fighting than thinking, so he put them out of his mind.

A great wrath rose up within him, unable to be contained anymore.
"This is my kingdom! I won't let the likes of you destroy it!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, before unleashing the peak of his Martial Arts. "[Fourfold Slash of Light]!"

Gazef shouted as he unleashed the Martial Art that he had trained so long to master. Martial Arts were a unique ability that warriors could perform, and they were called the magic of warriors. With them, one could do many things, such as speed up reaction times, enchant one's blade to do magical damage, perceive the unseen, and even cause multiple blows with a single swing of the sword. Gazef Stronoff's [Fourfold Slash of Light] belonged to the highest echelons of Martial Arts, and it manifested as four bright slashes that cut down the angels attacking him instantly.

But it didn't matter. As soon as those angels were gone, the magic casters from the Slane Theocracy summoned new ones. Blocky, mechanical looking beings, lacking grace and wisdom. Nothing more than summoned monsters. Gazef scoffed at the notion that these things were 'divine messengers'. What a hilarious joke.

Nothing divine would cause such senseless bloodshed.

The villagers? Dead. His companions? Dead. Gazef himself? Soon to be dead.

A blonde-haired man with a receding hairline, and a face that looked as he had just eaten something incredibly sour, spoke words of provocation and gloating towards Gazef. This man, the leader of the Sunlight Scripture of the Slane Theocracy, had the name of Nigun Grud Luin, and he was quite zealous in his missions, and it had earned him a scar on his face during a past endeavor.

"Give up Gazef, your struggle is useless. If you had just chosen to abandon the villagers in the frontier, then it wouldn't have ended like this. It's impossible for you to be unaware that your life alone is worth more than the lives of a thousand peasants. If you really loved your country, you would have abandoned these villagers."

Gazef felt amusement at their words. This amusement grew until it became laughter.

"Huh, you're laughing? You're about to die and your kingdom will fall as a result, and you're laughing?"

"You fools. Inside that village is someone far stronger than I."

The blonde man in charge of the Slane Theocracy did not believe.

"You're bluffing. Hmph. A pathetic ploy. Know that for your insolence, we will raze this village and slaughter all its inhabitants!" Then the blonde man spoke up in a loud voice towards his subordinates. "Send in all the angels at once! Destroy him utterly!" And the summoned angels all rushed at Gazef all at once.

"When the magic caster in that village comes for you, you'll get your slaughter." Gazef said, before he drew in a big breath, and let out a great warrior's cry, as he prepared to lay down his life for his country.

But before he could even blink, he found himself, standing in the barn where he had parted with that magic caster Sir Gown.

A thought came to his mind.

"The statue…" He muttered and then took it out of his hands. He looked at it and saw that it was fading to dust in his hands. A chuckle escaped his lips. "You really are full of tricks, magic caster."

All at once, the exhaustion hit him, and he felt himself growing weary. The adrenaline within him started to fade, and as his body realized it was time for rest and that there was no need for either fight or flight, he fell backwards, not willingly yet not opposing it. The cold floor of the barn expected him, and he'd gladly take a long nap there.

Yet, before he could collapse, he felt a hand upon his shoulder, and heard a voice speak to him, comforting and soothing.

"You fought well. [Heal]." Upon hearing those words, he felt all his wounds close, and a great deal of exhaustion be lifted from him. But before he could turn around and realize what was going on, the voice spoke again. "Now rest. [Sleep]." And thus Gazef fell into a deep slumber, one of the best slumbers of his life.

---

POV Change

Lord Ainz's plan, and my contributions to it, ensured that events would happen the way they were largely supposed to happen.

I do not understand why those men had to die, but the knowledge that they were soldiers, ready for death, and that they likely would have died anyways if we didn't stumble upon this village is comforting.

At any rate, after healing Gazef and putting him to sleep, it was no difficulty to use [Greater Teleportation] to move closer to the battlefield, and then use [Greater Invisibility] to stealthily fly above the battlefield, and obtain an ambush position above the Sunlight Scripture.

Maneuverability and especially vertical mobility, as stressed by Lord Punitto Moe, are truly underrated. Even an army with weaker firepower will win every battle by simply being able to fly over their opponents and pick the field of battle.

Nonetheless, I am close enough, only about 30 feet above the balding man and his legions of 'angels'.

I must say, I am disappointed. The quality is lacking. It's like comparing a fully grown lion to a newborn housecat. The comparison is that there is no comparison.

Those things can't even talk, they're more than machines. In fact, I feel insulted that they're even called 'angels'. But, it's not for me to do anything. Not yet. It is Lord Ainz's moment.

I can hear the conversation from here, which is a nice benefit.

Looks like it's already under way.


"I have somewhat of a relationship with those villagers."

"Have you come to beg for their lives, or just your own?" The balding man's voice is haughty and annoying, as expected.

"No, no, you misunderstand. I overheard your conversation earlier with the Chief Warrior. As it so happens, I invested my time and energy into saving those people, which you so brazenly declared you would massacre. I cannot think of anything more insulting."

A cocky smile spreads across the fool's face upon hearing Lord Ainz's words. He does not yet know he is dead.

"Insulting? You're being quite brazen yourself for a mere magic caster! So, magic caster, tell me, what do you plan to do about this insult?" The fool seeks to taunt and provoke.

Lord Ainz extends his hand and makes a crushing motion with his fist.

"Offer your lives to me willingly and without resistance. Do this, and I can promise you a painless end. Refuse this gift, and I swear, you will know pain and suffering before you die for your insolence."

The balding man instantly rejects the offer of mercy. "Have the angels attack this fool!" And they obey.

Two of the angels pierce Lord Ainz's body with their blades, but it is obvious at a first glance that there is no actual damage. Indeed, they are struggling, their necks within his hands.


There is disbelief from the members of the Sunlight Scripture at what their eyes are seeing.

"Did you not hear? I said to offer your lives to me without resistance. This is resistance. By the time I am through with you, you'll wish you had listened." Lord Ainz states coldly.

"It's a trick!"

"An illusion!"

"It has to be!"

Woe to you, oh dead men who see your doom yet do not acknowledge it.

"High Tier Physical Nullification. It is a passive skill that nullifies attacks from low-level weapons and monsters."

And just like that, Lord Ainz slams the two angels against the dirt, and they die, turning into nothing more than motes of light.

"The fact that you can use magic and summon spells from Yggdrasil is intriguing. I would like to know how you learned these things, but for now I will focus on killing you."

"Send in the other angels! All of them, at once!"

The angels rush in, and Albedo jumps away in the meantime. I wonder what spell Lord Ainz will use?

"[Negative Burst]!" A spherical wave of black energy erupts from Lord Ainz, and destroys all the angels instantly. All of them, down to the last.

Like I thought. Nothing but a cheap knockoff. Still… how is it possible that they are even capable of summoning these things? Investigation is necessary.

"That's… impossible!" The faint intonations of the doomed. Mere instants later, the members of the Slane Theocracy begin casting all sorts of magic, laughably low level, upon Lord Ainz.

Third tier magic? Really? What a joke.

It does not affect Lord Ainz at all, except perhaps rousing his anger.

"Who taught you that magic!" Lord Ainz seems to be having the same opinion as myself. How do these people know how to use Yggdrasil magic? We are no longer in Yggdrasil.

What happens next is quite quick. One of the soldiers tries using a slingshot, yes, a slingshot, to kill Lord Ainz, as if that would work when everything before did not. Unfortunately for him, Albedo intercepted the rock, and punted it back to him like a tennis ball. The rock hit the slingshot boy's skull, and caused it to explode. It's a bit funny, I won't lie.

"Heh?" Even the balding man is stunned.

"What happened?" Another soldier comments from the side.
"Albedo, that was unnecessary. You know that such aerial weapons cannot cause me any harm." Lord Ainz chides Albedo.

"But, there is a bare minimum these creatures must meet to fight you, Oh Supreme One!" She protests.

"It is fine. Everything is under control. And besides, these insects fail to pass the benchmark anyways."

But the balding man is still stubborn, and refuses to yield.

"Principality of Observation! Attack!" A principality? That's quite low-rank, I don't think it'll do the trick here.

And I am right. Lord Ainz manages to catch its mace in his hand.

"My, my. I guess I should fight back. [Hell Flame]." A small red flame proceeds from Lord Ainz's finger, makes contact with the summon, and consumes it to nothingness in an instant.

Again, there is more disbelief.

"One hit?"

"That's impossible!"

"Why is this happening!"

"There is no way a high level angel could be destroyed with a single spell!"

Well, that's the first true thing you've said today. Unfortunately for you, your standards for 'high-level' are a bit too low-level.
"Captain Nigun! What should we do?" One of the soldiers asked his commander.

So Nigun. That is the man's name. It is not a very good name. I do not like it.

As for Nigun, he panics for a second before a thought crosses his mind. He digs within his pocket, and produces a giant stone, shining brightly and structured like an unrefined diamond.

"We will summon the highest level of angels!"

Gasps of wow from the soldiers abound. I'd be scared at this point that this 'highest level' of angel is something like myself, but at this point, I am not expecting much. These people have already proven their incompetence.

Albedo places herself in front of Lord Ainz, ready to shield him if necessary. I have a feeling it won't be.

"Behold! The highest form of angels! Dominion Authority! A weapon that can slay demon gods!"

Well… the Dominion Authority is… nothing special, if I am honest. It just looks like the previous angel, but a few more pairs of wings. Quite mid, in my own unbiased opinion.

Definitely not as beautiful as myself. Completely objective fact, that.

More gasps and wows and noises of excitement from the soldiers beneath me. I personally however, am just waiting for the go-ahead.

"Is this your highest-level angel? Is this your hidden weapon?" Lord Ainz asks, stupefied.

"Indeed! It is a one-time use trump card, but rejoice! I have determined that you are worthy to use this weapon on! Are you afraid? Good because -

He is interrupted from his ranting.

"This is stupid."

"W-What?"

"You people are ants, and have no idea what a high-level angel looks like. In fact, you are a waste of my time." At his words, their wills deflate. "[Black Hole]." Lord Ainz casts and I notice a curious thing after the whole angel is sucked into the void and ceases to exist.

It is dusk, but after the black hole, there is no more sunlight, as if day had turned into night all of a sudden. Is that because it takes time for the sunlight to travel from the sun to the earth, and the black hole absorbs the light from the atmosphere? How far does this effect spread, and if so how many spells can replicate such an effect? I find myself curious.

"What are you?" Nigun asks.

"Ainz Ooal Gown. Once upon a time, there was no one who did not know and fear this name."

The sky cracks like glass. Strange, what exactly happened? Magic?

"Heh?"

"Hmm. It seems that my counter-divination measures were activated. Someone was trying to watch us, but they did not see much." Lord Ainz comments, as if commenting on the weather.
"My country was watching me?" Yes, they witnessed your disgrace and shameful behavior before you died.

"No matter. Time to die."

Again, for the hundredth time it feels like, more pleadings and gasps of outrage and cries for mercy from the soldiers. The leader even tries begging for his life, and selling out his comrades, but Lord Ainz isn't having any of it.

"I said you would experience pain and suffering before you died, did I not?" He takes off his mask, revealing his full skeletal visage, and only then do they realize they had no chance at all to win. "Albedo, go to work." At his words, Albedo jumps from her location and starts cutting down the members of the Sunlight Scripture. Curiously enough… she is not going for kills. She is cutting off the limbs, but letting them live. A slow death.

The telltale sound of the [Message] spell connecting rings in my head.

"Yes, Lord Ainz."

"Help Albedo get rid of these idiots."

Right.

I descend from the sky and land right behind one of the men, kicking up dust as I do so. [Greater Invisibility] is dispelled at the same time.

He turns around, barely being able to process Albedo cutting down his friends and me looking at him from close range.

"Boo!"

He falls flat on his ass.

"Pathetic. You're not even worthy of dying to my blade. Instead, I shall take your life with my voice alone. [Power Word: Eviscerate]."

By speaking it, his entire body becomes eviscerated by a thousand cuts, and blood bursts forth from his body like a raging river breaking through a dam built of rotten wood.

So weak. Where did your arrogance go? Why did your pride not shield you from death?

I look around left and right. I am looking for a special someone.

Oh, there he is! He seems to be missing a leg, courtesy of Albedo, and he is crawling on the grass, running toward the forest. Or rather, he is trying to crawl.

One of his friends is lying next to him, in shock, staring at the sky. I see no actual wound on this man, but he probably went into shock due to pure fear.

"[Wither]." I intone, and at my word, the man begins to shrivel and wither and die, screaming all the while. Within seconds he turns from a living man, to a dead corpse, nothing more than skin and bones. I cannot see his body, but I do not need to. The way his clothes deflated is proof enough he is dead. This does prove however, that the theory I had earlier with Lord Ainz's black hole is true.

Spells have effects here they did not have in Yggdrasil.

[Wither] slows the target's speed in all effects, much like [Slow], but there are a few differences. [Slow] is constant, [Wither] gains strength over time, much like age does, and [Wither] is said to actually physically age the target, causing them to decay and die, and is thus ineffective on the undead and those who do not age.

But men wither and die, it is in their nature, thus my theory was proven, and the spell is now capable of being lethal. Interesting.

I kick the man's body away as I slowly walk toward Nigun. I flip him over onto his back and unfold my wings for him to see.

Realization dawns upon his face as he understands something. All his life has thus far been a lie.

"You wanted a high-level angel. I am what you seek."

The man's face is completely stunned for what seems like ages, until a small glimmer of hope is found in his tear-filled eyes.

"Why are you here? Are you going to save me?"

Ever hopeful even in despair.

"I am here to send you to your gods." I reply as I step on the wound on his leg, where Albedo had cut through his right tibia.

The hope he had dies just like that.

I grab him by the chest, and throw him into the sky as far as I possibly can. He screams all the while.

A few things may happen. He may fly out of the atmosphere and die due to the effects of the vacuum of space. He may die of blood loss during his sojourn through the sky. Or he may fall onto the ground, and have the dirt drink his useless blood, and his body will turn to fertilizer.

Either way, I have kept my promise, and he will be with his gods.

Now, time for the rest of these fools.

 

[BenMalek]

Die Freude am Dienst​

"Happy is he who toils for his master's sake!" Said Demiurge to himself as he looked down from the skies upon the city of Re-Estize. Soaring through the skies, the moon shining its pale light down upon the earth, his black leathery wings bathed in its silvery radiance. From where he was, not a single soul could see him. Indeed, if anyone looked up, he would seem as no more than a speck in their vision, or perhaps a bird. But from where he was, not a single soul below him could escape his gaze.

Indeed, he was like the sword of Damocles, hovering above the proverbial necks of the mortals in this wretched city, and he could smite them all now, peasant, merchant, criminal and noble(though the last three were nothing more than a tautology) with just a single spell, he could bring untold death and destruction. Fire and misery, spreading across the city, claiming the lives of the old and young, the men and the women and the children, all of them, screaming inside the fire.

All it would take is a single [Meteor Fall] a 10th tier spell, bestowed upon him by his blessed creator, to flatten a good portion of the city, and snuff out the lives of its inhabitants. The crackling of the flames burning down wood and stone and the wailing of the miserable survivors who would have been better off dead, he imagined the beautiful symphony those sounds would make! It would be such music to his ears!

Or perhaps he could also use Armageddon Evil, and use his minions to simply cut down everyone? It'd be slower, messier, but that too had its charm.

Alas, while mindless destruction could be fun from time to time, well-executed plots and schemes could be just as fun.

For Demiurge, and the purpose he was bestowed by his master, this called for the latter option.

"Wretched is he who works to his own ends, for wickedness is in his heart." Demiurge said to himself yet again. He was fond of quoting texts that his master had left him behind. Indeed, wisdom was something he would use to better serve Nazarick, and his natural intellect, unsurpassed in Nazarick(save for the unfathomable intellect of his master) meant that there was no excuse for failure. Indolence was not permissible in this matter.

His Shadow Demons were prowling the city. Not just them, but the Hanzos as well, that he had summoned using resources from the library. The markets, the noble estates, the temples, the guild headquarters, every conceivable important part of this city, his minions had been commanded to do a brief search of. Not in too much detail, and not to overhear important conversations, for there was no time for such things yet, but to simply get a lay of the land.

All to prepare for the eventual conquest of this place. It was inevitable, really. The information gathered from Carne pointed to a theory supported by supplementary information that he himself had obtained by spying on the Royal diet in the Re-Estize castle.

This kingdom was doomed. This much he knew. The infighting, the scheming, the backstabbing, the lack of intellect, the lack of strength, the lack of purpose. It was disgusting. But most of all, the lack of unity among those who were supposed to be its leaders.

"A house divided among itself cannot stand." He quoted a passage from a quaint little book his master had left him to read, to help better himself as a servant. And he had the keys to the house of Re-Estize right now in front of him, waiting to be grasped.

It was in the seedy criminal underbelly, the filth that no man wanted to look upon yet whose stench no man could escape.

Crime was rampant. A lawless kingdom without order. Resistance from it would be pitiful and weak, and it would be the first domino to fall.

The sound of the [Message] spell, recognizable and one he had heard all too often through the past hours, once again made itself heard within his divinely crafted cranium.

"Lord Demiurge." It was one of the Shadow Demons.

"Speak." He responded.

"I have stumbled upon a meeting between two prominent members of this kingdom's criminal underbelly. To be specific, between a leader and his second in command. It concerns racketeering."

"How interesting. I will be there shortly." He responded and cut off the message link.

Demiurge's eyes looked for a landing spot. He found one at the very top of a merchant lord's manor. It was flat and would serve as a useful pit stop. He landed there, and transformed his form again into his more usual state, retracting his wings and changing his frog-like face and hands for his usual gentlemanly visage.

Once he did so, it was a simple enough thing to invoke a few spells that would help serve him to spy upon this meeting. Oh, how he so enjoyed it! To know that he would be in the mortals' presence, and could sever their lives from the darkness after they spilled all their secrets, without even them knowing he was there!


Demiurge silently observed the dimly lit basement, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene before him. The room reeked of humanity, in all its mundane, predictable filth. He felt a wave of disgust as he watched the two men—a bald, hulking brute and his scrawny, quivering underling—exchange words. The contrast between them was almost laughable, a sad little parody of power dynamics among the weak. How tiresome.
"He don't wanna pay," the minion whined, his voice trembling with fear. He looked up at his leader as though expecting a backhanded slap for delivering bad news.

"Whatchu mean, he don't wanna pay? You told him what happens, did ya?" The bald one growled, leaning over the wooden table that held the crude map of the city. The table was littered with the usual trappings of a lowlife's lair: an oil lamp, a half-eaten apple, a dagger stabbed into the map, an inkwell, a quill, and a coin pouch spilling over with silver and gold.

Demiurge's lip curled in distaste. The entire scene was pathetically unimaginative, a stale cliché played out by creatures who lacked the capacity for anything greater. But even in their simplicity, there was a certain usefulness to them—a small piece in a much larger game.

He shifted his gaze, activating [Umbral Cloak] to meld with the shadows. The spell wrapped him in darkness, and he moved through the room like a specter, unseen and unheard. From his new vantage point, he glanced upwards, his eyes piercing through the floor above to reveal a group of humans sitting around a table, likely playing cards. Beyond them, guards stood watch at the entrance to the stairs leading down into the basement, oblivious to the demon that lurked beneath their feet. Demiurge could see every one of them, from their nervous fidgeting to the dull throb of their thoughts, like insects swarming in their nests.

"That's just it, boss. He said he won't pay anymore. Ever. Said he also has a message for you."

The bald one's face twisted in fury, and with a sudden lunge, he grabbed his minion by the scruff of the neck, lifting him effortlessly into the air. The man's rage was palpable, his eyes gleaming with the promise of violence. Demiurge felt a dark pleasure stir within him as he watched the scene unfold, savoring the raw, brutal emotion.

"Give me the message 'fore I send you to the gods," the man snarled, shaking his underling like a rag doll.

The minion, too terrified to resist, sputtered out his words. "Easy, easy boss, don't hurt me, okay? I'll give ya the message. And this is just a quote. He said, 'Tell Oscas that I won't give you a single fucking copper, ye hear me? I'm with Hilma now and I'm done paying for your 'protection' when I can work with them and actually gain money instead of losing it.'"

The brute's tiny, beady eyes narrowed in confusion as he tried to process the information. Demiurge could almost see the gears turning in the man's head, slow and laborious, like a rusty machine struggling to function. After a moment, the man dropped the minion to the ground, turning back to his map, picking up the quill, and beginning to write something with deliberate slowness.

"He also said you're a 'bald cunt,'" the minion added, almost as an afterthought.

The quill froze in the man's hand. Demiurge's lips curled into a wicked smile. He knew exactly what was going to happen next. The insult was a spark in a powder keg, a calculated move by the minion to stoke the flames of his master's fury. The demon didn't even need to use [Premonition] to foresee the outcome—it was written in the air, in the tension that thickened the atmosphere of the room.

And yet, Demiurge did not intervene. Instead, he leaned back into the shadows, savoring the anticipation. The pieces were in motion, the game was unfolding, and he was in control of it all. The humans, with their petty squabbles and brutish methods, were mere tools in his grand design. He watched, his satisfaction growing, as the bald man's rage began to boil over.

The scene was just beginning, and Demiurge was more than content to let it play out.

In the span of a heartbeat, the bald man's hand dropped the quill, surrendering completely to the rage that had been simmering just beneath the surface. His fist, massive and calloused, drew back like a morningstar, coiled at his left shoulder. Then, with a speed that defied his bulk, the man's arm snapped forward, releasing the pent-up fury in a single, devastating punch. The blow connected with the side of the minion's jaw with a sickening crack, launching him through the air as if he were nothing more than a ragdoll caught in a hurricane.

Demiurge watched the man's flight with a clinical detachment, appreciating the artistry of violence in the act. The minion's skull met the stone wall with a sound like breaking pottery, a splatter of blood marking the point of impact. The force of the punch had not only shattered the man's jaw, exposing the teeth beneath, but it had also sent him spinning in a gruesome pirouette—his body twisting a full 480 degrees before crumpling to the ground in a heap.

"Impressive," Demiurge mused. As far as executions went, it was quite entertaining. The sheer brutality was a testament to the bald man's raw, untamed strength. A fitting display from a creature so inherently brutish, though in the grand scheme of things, it was as insignificant as the life it had just snuffed out.

"Bartok! Rakos! Get in here!" The bald man's bellow echoed through the room, and Demiurge noted with mild interest as the two guards, who had been stationed at the top of the stairs, came rushing down. Both were clad in mismatched armor, with Bartok's helmet too large for his head, and Rakos's breastplate slightly dented. Their eyes flickered from the bloody corpse on the floor to their leader, then to each other, as if silently communicating their shared distaste for the task ahead.

"Clean this shit up," the bald man ordered, still hunched over his map, his focus already returned to his crude scheming. "I don't want the stink of blood in here."

Without a word, Bartok and Rakos moved to comply, their expressions resigned as they began to drag the lifeless body away. Demiurge could see it in their eyes—the dull acceptance of men who had long since grown accustomed to the brutal whims of their master. They were tools, just like the dagger on the table, useful only so long as they served their purpose.

"So… that whore Hilma thinks she can move against me?" The bald man began to mutter to himself, his voice low and venomous. "We may both be part of Eight Fingers, but she's gotta learn that there's consequences to going against the racketeering division. Yeah, there's consequences. Dumb bitch. Always been smug, always thought she's better than everyone else. Always looked down on me. I'll show her. See how smug she is while she's choking on my dick with no teeth."

Demiurge allowed himself a small, amused smile as he listened to the man's rant. How pathetic these creatures were, cannibalizing each other over scraps of power. They were little more than beasts, driven by base instincts, utterly devoid of the grander vision that guided the Supreme Beings. Conquering this kingdom would be a simple matter; indeed, under Lord Ainz's wise and benevolent rule, even the lowest of these worms would find their place in a far more ordered and prosperous society.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps descending the stairs. A new figure emerged into the dim light—shorter and thinner than the men, with the slight, hunched posture of a woman accustomed to hard labor. She carried a mop and bucket, her face expressionless as she set about cleaning the blood from the stone floor. Her movements were swift and efficient, betraying a practiced familiarity with the grim task. Yet despite her outward calm, Demiurge could sense the fear that gripped her—a fear so palpable it clung to her like a second skin.

"Um… Boss? I cleaned it all up." Her voice was timid, barely more than a whisper.

The bald man didn't even look at her. "Go. And close the door."

She bowed quickly, scurrying away as if the very walls might collapse on her if she lingered. Demiurge waited until the door was shut, until the sound of her footsteps faded into silence, before he made his move.

First, he cast a silencing ward on the door, ensuring that not a single sound would escape the room. Then, with a brief mental command through the [Message] spell, he ordered his Shadow Demon to leave the area and continue its surveillance elsewhere. The creature obeyed without hesitation, melting into the shadows and vanishing from sight.

Now, it was just the two of them—Demiurge and the brute, alone in the silent, blood-stained room. With a thought, Demiurge canceled [Umbral Cloak], allowing his true form to materialize in the dim light. He stood tall and imposing, his demonic visage a stark contrast to the pathetic human who remained hunched over the table.

Demiurge stepped forward and tapped the man lightly on the shoulder. The reaction was immediate. The bald man spun around, his eyes wide with shock and confusion, taking in the sight of the demon that had appeared out of nowhere. Fear flickered across his face, and he stumbled back, his bulk knocking the table over as he fell to the ground.

"Greetings," Demiurge said, his voice smooth and measured.

"What the? How the fuck did you get in here!?" The man's voice trembled with panic as he scrambled backward, his eyes darting around the room in search of an escape.

Taking a step closer, the devil loomed over the terrified man with a cold, calculating expression. The power dynamics in the room had shifted entirely, and Demiurge relished the fear that radiated from the human before him. This was his domain now, and the bald man would soon learn what it meant to face a true master of the craft.

"Who the hell are you!?" The bald man shouted, his voice a mix of terror and disbelief. As he stumbled backward in sheer panic, his weight toppled the wooden table, sending its contents—maps, an oil lamp, a dagger, and a coin pouch—spilling onto the floor. He landed hard on his backside, a look of abject horror etched onto his face.

Demiurge's lips curled into a cold smile. "Exactly. Who the hell am I? That's a good question. But before I answer, allow me to pose one of my own."

Before the man could react further, Demiurge moved with lethal grace. Like a predator striking its prey, his hand shot out and closed around the man's neck. The contact was repulsive, the skin clammy and greasy under his gloved fingers. Demiurge grimaced inwardly at the sensation but maintained his composure, for the man's life was as insignificant as a pebble in his hands.

The man's initial reaction was to flail wildly, his eyes bulging with the raw fear of impending suffocation. He gasped for air, his hands clawing ineffectually at Demiurge's grip as he tried to draw breath. The choking was slow and deliberate, a cruel twist of the knife that extended the man's suffering. His pleas for mercy were garbled and incoherent, a pathetic display of survival instinct that would have been better left asleep. Indeed, it would have been kinder if he had never been born at all.

Demiurge leaned in closer, his voice a chilling whisper. "You mentioned something about choking, did you not? Perhaps you were speaking from experience. How fitting that you should be given a taste of your own future."

The man's struggles grew weaker, his attempts to beg and bargain turning into desperate gasps. Demiurge's grip tightened just enough to keep him on the edge of consciousness, savoring the man's mounting despair. He had no intention of killing him yet; the man was too valuable for that. Death would only come after he had extracted every ounce of usefulness and satisfaction from this encounter.

Demiurge's eyes gleamed with malevolent amusement as he watched the man's futile efforts to escape his fate. The room, once a cacophony of scheming and brawling, was now a stage for a far darker performance. Under the dim glow of the flickering torches, the air seemed to thicken with anticipation, every breath drawn by the man a desperate gasp for survival.

To Demiurge, the scene was a symphony of despair, and he was its master conductor. Each wheeze, each convulsion of the man's body was a note in this grim melody, and Demiurge's unyielding grip orchestrated the man's final moments with cold precision. The man's frantic thrashing, his eyes bulging with terror, was a stark contrast to Demiurge's serene composure, a reminder of the vast chasm between predator and prey.

In that fleeting moment, with the worm's life held between his hands and the will of his master being executed with such ruthless efficiency, Demiurge felt a profound sense of satisfaction. It was a twisted joy, one that came not from the act itself but from the perfection of its execution.

His heart, if such a thing could be said to beat, pulsed with a dark, exhilarating rhythm as he savored the power he wielded. To see the arrogance and cruelty of these petty scum reduced to nothing more than a futile struggle against his unyielding will was a delight beyond compare.

There, in the dim light of that decrepit chamber, surrounded by the mundane remnants of a crumbling power structure, Demiurge was the happiest creature on the whole earth.

AN: Small break from Remiel this chapter. Also, expect story to pick up and starting from Chapter 8 onward, and please let me know your thoughts so far if you have any. Thanks.

 

[BenMalek]

Consilium Bellatoris​

Carne could be considered a success, at least from the point of view of Nazarick. Destroying the Sunlight Scripture was laughably easy and it also felt right and proper to do so. I cannot deny that I felt joy watching Nigun turn into a bloody red stain on the ground.

We did however, at Lord Ainz's suggestion, capture a few live prisoners, that will be dealt with accordingly, most likely probed for information. Neuronist will not be gentle with them, and I find myself not lamenting their fate.

As for Gazef, the post-extermination meeting also went well. He stated he would speak well of us, and that we are invited to visit the royal capital of Re-Estize at any time, to be rewarded. I doubt a mortal man has anything that he can offer me that I would need or want that I cannot take myself should I wish to do so, but Lord Ainz accepted his kind words and simply stated that he hopes they meet again.

Once we went back to Nazarick, we gathered in the Throne Room, where Lord Ainz took a new oath of fealty, this time towards the name 'Ainz Ooal Gown' instead of 'Momonga', and he furthermore reiterated his goal to spread his name far and wide across the corners of the world.

It was only after this event, during a trip to Ashurbanipal to return the books I picked up last time, and take new ones to read in the future, that I remembered that now that we have made our impact in the world, a sort of countdown has begun, and that eventually we will have to fully step out of the shadows. But that day would come eventually, no matter what I did.


Lord Ainz informed us of his decision to go on a mission to E-Rantel alongside Narberal Gamma, and surprisingly enough, myself. According to him, a 'healer' would complete the party, but though I was honored, I felt an urge within me to decline, so I did, and suggested that Narberal Gamma be appointed by her sister, Lupusregina, who can also act as a healer, and is closer to Narberal Gamma by virtue of being her sister. This reasoning was accepted by Lord Ainz.

The plan was then this, Lord Ainz alongside Narberal Gamma and Lupusregina would go to E-Rantel and infiltrate the Adventurer's Guild and learn what they could.

Demiurge suggested that he move to the Royal Capital of Re-Estize and learn by himself what he could from the city while Lord Ainz worked in E-Rantel. Considering E-Rantel was on the border between Re-Estize, Baharuth, and Slane, it is probably a uniquely important city and a bridge between these nations, and a valuable gem, whereas the royal capital is important for different reasons, yet is located far to the west. Demiurge, with his myriad of servants, namely Shadow Demons and demonic summons would be able to gather information from the capital. A fine idea, since all cities have an underbelly and criminal element, capital cities most of all.

I however, have no expendable minions to command, and those few summons I can summon would hardly be conducive to stealthy operations. But, I have an advantage that Demiurge does not, namely being able to blend in among the humans. I can make myself appear as a human quite easily, though I will need to acquire clothes in order to remain inconspicuous. Lord Ainz and Narberal Gamma, or as they will be called 'Momon and Nabe' have no need to remain inconspicuous, as adventurers are 'supposed' to be flashy and catch attention, but that is not what I have in mind.

So, while Demiurge would run rampant in Re-Estize, doing what he did, I would head to E-Rantel, acquire funds, clothing(because I will need funds in order to appear human, people would notice me not needing food or sleep sooner or later), more knowledge about the region and culture, and a map that would help me. As a matter of fact, based on the information gathered in the village, and the words of Gazef, we had enough knowledge to not go in blind, but not enough to be completely sure of which decision would be correct. Regardless, the decision must be made.

Where to go next? Baharuth or Slane? I told Lord Ainz to let me handle one of these nations, which he obliged, but left the ultimate decision of which one it would be up to me. I had ideas for which one I should choose and how the path would go while gathering information, but ultimately I was indecisive.

To rectify this, I needed an outside opinion. I decided to pick the mind of someone whom I assumed would be no fool, the warrior Cocytus, whom I found sparring in the Colosseum.

"So, what do you think? Which one should I choose?" I asked him.

"Hmmm… It is a difficult choice." Cocytus replied. At the same time, he was wielding a weapon in each of his hands, and defending himself against 4 dragonkin at the same time. They could not come close to him, and he effortlessly parried each of their blows. I noticed a few times when he could have counter-attacked and struck them down, but he did not.

I also noticed that, when it comes to pure martial ability, there is no comparison between Cocytus and myself. In that field, he is my superior. But then again, that is his nature, no? The eagle does not envy the bison for his rule over the plains, for the eagle rules the skies, and each has his own purpose in the greater whole.

"Tell me your thoughts." Cocytus commanded, before using his tail to sweep the legs of all 4 dragonkin at the same time, and banishing two of his weapons. The dragonkin collected themselves, got up, and began to attack him again, but just like last time, it was no contest.

"Here are my arguments for going to Baharuth first." I stated and then held up a closed fist.

"One of their military organizations has not been wiped out, so they will not be on as high of an alert." One finger went up.

"Their economy is more tightly intertwined with Re-Estize, and there is more travel between these two nations than between them and Slane, who supposedly stands alone self-sufficient." Another finger went up.

"Baharuth supposedly is not as developed as Slane, who are said to be the most advanced human nation, which possibly means countermeasures, perhaps magical in nature." The third finger went up.

"Slane is a theocracy, which means religious knowledge of the local faith is important, and failure to answer questions may lead to my cover being blown." The fourth finger went up.

"Lastly, Baharuth also has the Adventurer's Guild, just like Re-Estize, so I can gather information there as well." And the thumb went up.

Cocytus lifted up one of his hands in a gesture that is universally recognized as 'Stop'. The dragonkin did so, bowed, and left to clean up the battlefield. Many of them had wounds and bruises, but their natural quick regeneration would ensure that they'd be all healed in no time.

"You make sound arguments for choosing the Empire first. And the other nation? This Theocracy?" Cocytus asked me, as he gradually walked closer toward me.

I began to gradually list off the reasons.

"First reason, strike while the iron is hot. They are going to be confused and suspicious, and word of Carne will spread far. I could infer that I am a Theocracy native that was living in E-Rantel that is now returning home."

"Hmm…" Cocytus exhaled his cold breath, taking the idea into consideration.

"Second, it's supposedly the birthplace of humanity and the most advanced nation. If there is any place to learn about humanity and their culture and faith, it would be there, where the source is."

He remained silent, probably waiting for me to continue.

"Third, Gazef stated that it is the safest and most prosperous of the human nations, and that monster attacks are unheard of. I could infer that my home was destroyed and I am now a refugee or immigrant seeking a new home."

"That one is actually true."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Yggdrasil was destroyed, but Lord Ainz saved us and brought us to this world, which will be a new home to us."

Damn, didn't think of it like that.

"You may be right. Yes, that's a good line." I praised his wise words, and he nodded in return. "But where was I? Oh yes. Fourth. The Theocracy is supposedly the mother of all human nations, and the birthplace of their faith."

"These gods the humans worship? I would like to fight them. Slay them. And bring glory to Lord Ainz." He stated proudly. To him, it seemed like a glorious purpose that he was made to fulfill.

Ehh… I am not so certain. "In all likelihood, we don't even know if they even exist or existed. It could just be a figment of their imagination. Remember, we are no longer in Yggdrasil. It could be that this is a world without a god."

"In which case Lord Ainz shall be the only god."

Depends on your definition of the term, but sure. "The single appointed magistrate and ruler of this world? Yes, that's the goal, but I digress. As Slane is the birthplace of their faith, they probably receive pilgrims and religious travelers. I could pose as one, and use heavily nerfed healing magic to pass the cover story."

He nodded, before interrupting me with a question.

"Nerfed?"

"It is a term I read Lord Punitto Moe using. It means diminished compared to its former glory or strength. It is akin to rust."

He nodded again. "I understand."

"Good. Now, the last point. This one is a bit… I am ashamed to admit it."

"In what way?"
"The Slane Theocracy used angels, and that fool said that they were messengers of their gods. But I did not see anything like myself in what they used. It made me angry, and I want to go down there and bring them fire and brimstone and show them that they should be careful with their words."

"They insulted your warrior's pride." I suppose that is the closest analogy that his mind could come up with.

"In a sense."

"Hmm…" He remained silent, and exhaled cold frost a few times before he deigned to answer. "This is not good. Any faithful warrior will swallow insults to his pride during a mission for his liege. I recognize the insult done to you, but you must lay it aside for now."

"Lay it aside? I guess you're right."

"Yes. You must show discipline."

Yes, he's right.

"Of course." I confirm his words, and then we fall into silence.

The silence is comfortable, a silence between two warriors, but it does stretch out a moment too long, and then a few moments after that, until it becomes awkward.

"Cocytus?" I ask him. He is awfully quiet.

"Yes?"

"You were lost in thought. Is something on your mind?"

"No. Yes."
"Yes?"

"Yes. It is… related to the task entrusted upon you by Lord Ainz."

"Well, speak then. You always have my ear." I encouraged him.

"Lord Ainz has given you and Demiurge tasks to gather knowledge about two of these nations. He will take Narberal Gamma and Lupusregina with him, and spend many hours together. Mare is working on concealing the Tomb, and Aura is exploring the forest. You have all been given tasks to spread the glory of Nazarick. But I have been left behind."

Oh? Oh… This is not good.

"Cocytus. You have not been left behind."

"But I have. Why else has Lord Ainz not given me a task yet?"

How do I convince him that he has a purpose? He will have to convince himself, for his convictions are strong, and no matter what I tell him, he won't learn unless it comes from within.

"Have you ever read 'The Art of War'?"

He perks up. "I can't say that I have." He replies. "What is this book about?"

"Like the title says, it is about war. Written a long, long time ago, by a very prominent human general and statesman. I found this book in Ashurbanipal, or to be more specific Titus gave it to me, but that's neither here nor there. This book was apparently well beloved by Lord Punitto Moe, Nazarick's chief strategist. Within it you'll find many gems, applicable to the life of a warrior such as yourself. Let me share one with you. 'Victorious warriors win first and then go to war, while defeated warriors go to war first and then seek to win.'"
He took a few seconds to let the words sink in.

"You understand what this means, right? We are not yet at war. What we did to the Sunlight Scripture was merely destroying a rogue raiding party. We are still gathering information about these lands, and because of your nature, you cannot gather information from them. But that does not mean you have no purpose or use, nor does it mean that you will remain where you are forever. Be patient, trust in Lord Ainz, and when the time for the first blow comes, against whoever it is, I promise you, you will be given the torch."

"The honor of spilling first blood… The honor of leading Nazarick's armies to victory and glory…" He muses to himself, probably lost in thought.

I tap him on the shoulder a few times. "Do not despair. Soon you will be given the opportunity to impress Lord Ainz. I know it."

"Yes, you're right. Thank you for your advice."

"And thank you for yours. I have helped you, and you have helped me. Let us continue to help each other."

"That sounds nice." He exhales more cold breath, and I swear he would smile were he capable of such a thing, but alas, the slight twinkling of his blue eyes and the movement of his mandibles is the closest thing to a happy face he can do. "I shall return to my duties." He announces, and turns to leave.

"And I to mine." I responded.

Tomorrow, I leave for E-Rantel alongside Lord Ainz, Narberal Gamma and Lupusregina. I shall spend a few days there, before heading east, to the capital of the Baharuth Empire.

Hopefully, it will be a fruitful endeavor.

 

[BenMalek]

To Tremma ton Amartion​

"That's disgusting." Narberal Gamma, otherwise known as 'Nabe' while we are in E-Rantel, stared blankly.

"It's an ugly thing." Lupusregina Beta, also known as 'Lupu' for the duration of this mission, also commented.

They were staring at a comically old woman, probably close to 100 years old, walking with a cane. She has warts and boils across her face, she is hunched over, dressed from head to toe such that only her face and some raggedy strands of white hair are visible. The old woman's mouth hangs open and I can only spot a few teeth present. Despite all this, hunched over though she is, she continues to walk with her cane, going wherever she needs to.

But these two birdbrains are staring at her like she is some novelty.

"That's just an old woman. Ignore her." My recount goes nowhere.

"Do all humans end up like that?" Nabe comments again, and her sister, Lupu, responds. "I kinda pity them… no wonder they're so miserable."

My anger is stoked at their heartless words.

"Shut up the both of you, before you draw too much attention to us and I have to smack your heads together."
Lupu fakes outrage at my words and tries to stir up trouble. "Lord Ai-lord Momon, did you hear what she just said? She said she'd smack us!" I never should have suggested she be brought along on this mission. More the fool I am.

Lord Ainz, masquerading as 'Sir Momon', clad in black armor like a knightly hero, and well over six feet tall, naturally draws attention by merely existing. Thus, when he raises his voice… "Quiet!" It draws a few stares. When he notices the eyes on him, he literally drags the three of us towards an alley where we can talk in peace.

He tries to loom over me, which is difficult because even with his armor he isn't more than two inches taller, but the presence he emits is noticeable just the same.

"Remiel, don't smack anyone, please. We are not here for games." His tone of voice displays his seriousness.

"As you say."

Then he turns towards the other two.

"Narberal Gamma, Lupusregina Beta, control yourselves. If you don't, I'll send you back to Nazarick and do this alone."

The both of them instantly drop to one knee, which may not be the wisest thing to do in an alley.

"Please don't!"

"We will obey you!"

"Quiet!" He whispers loudly. Before he clears his throat "Now then, let us go over our plans once more before we split."

He notices that the two of them are still on one knee, so he gestures for them to get up, which they do.

"Lupu, how about you refresh us about our plans in E-Rantel."

She preens up instantly at being given this minor task.

"Well, Lord Momon- She's cut off by Lord Ainz interrupting her with "It's Momon!" for making a mistake once again.

"Sir Momon." Nabe corrects her sister, and thankfully she gets it through her head.

"Sir Momon. We're heading to the adventurer's guild! We're going to kill monsters and earn money!" She exclaimed with joy, practically preening. How? You were nearly crying half a minute ago!

"And we'll also make connections and gather information and advance up the ranks of the guild, don't forget." Lord Ainz adds on. Afterwards, he turns towards me.

"I'm going to head to this temple to their gods, learn what I can from them, then I'll try to explore the city and see what else I can learn. I am also planning on learning about the local governance here."

"Right. You know your role, we know ours. Remiel, we will be in touch, and I expect a report from you tonight."

"Understood."

---

E-Rantel is a nice city. It is no miracle, but from what I can see, it falls within the boundaries of a medieval style city. It is clear there is wealth here, but it is concentrated the closer you head towards the center of the city.

E-Rantel is a city on the military frontier, and every year the Baharuth Empire declares war on this nation, with the goal of conquering this city, but every year it fails. What is the point of these quick and annual wars?

They occur every year at the same time. During the harvest season. It does not take a genius to figure out what the goal is then. Economic disruption.

Mortals. Squabbling over grain. How primitive.

As for the city, it is walled with three sets of walls, as befits a city in such a vital position. The outer walls, the inner walls, and the innermost walls. Each set of walls has watchtowers where guards can be observed doing vital things such as sleeping, gossiping, and playing card games.

Within the innermost walls, one will find the mayor's palace and VIP Villa. Thus, it stands that it is the center of governance for the city's elite, the seat of power.

Outside those walls, one can find guilds, stores, markets, inns, temples, so on and so forth. The city is also a military city, and it is here that you can find barracks and armories for the guards and silos for the grain. And of course, the homes of those who have a decent amount of income.

And lastly, outside those walls, protected by merely the 1st set of walls, is a heavily residential district, with the exception of the graveyards far to the west, and the guards posted to guard those graveyards.

Why are there guards outside the graveyard?

Because of necromancers. Apparently there have been attempts to disturb the dead, and it results in skeletons or ghouls wandering outside the graveyards. They are no threat and thus, the guards can handle them easily. The guards also have a nearby practice range where they can spar against each other, train their marksmanship and what not, but I doubt they use it much.

This is all well and good, but the point remains.

Where should I head first? The temple? One of the guilds? The markets?

A difficult question, made even more difficult by my lack of funds.

Thus, the solution is self-evident. Go and acquire funds. And where better to acquire funds than the place where all the money in the city will eventually go?

The mayor's palace, of course.

So, I resolved myself to head there.

Finding it is easy. It is visible from everywhere, built atop a hill overlooking the lower parts of the city.

Thus, I began to walk towards the palace

Twice, I asked some guards for directions, who were relatively friendly.

I saw the innermost walls. Unlike the previous set, through which we could pass through easily, these ones have more guards and far more attention is dedicated to them. I cannot simply walk through them like I did with the previous set. They will ask me for identification, purpose of my visit, they will ask to search me and other bothersome things, and I may still get denied.

That simply won't do.

I lean against one of the walls of some sort of tavern and try to come up with a plan.

Walk through the gate with [Greater Invisibility]? Won't work. It's closed, and the spell will break if I use it. And besides, they may have wards that detect such a thing.

Fly above the walls with [Greater Invisibility]? Won't work, I'll have to unfurl my wings to fly, and it'll be bothersome trying to put on this cloak again. Buying a new one is also annoying. No, this method won't work.

Use [Dominate] to force the guards to let me through? I would rather not use such methods, and they may notice something strange afterward. This method also won't work.

Then it hit me.

I moved away from the line of sight, behind the tavern into a place hidden by shadow, and used [Greater Invisibility] to make myself unseen.

Once I walked out of the shadows, I walked around in the sunlight, noticing the strange way the light interacted with my body. It was mesmerizing. I also noticed that no one noticed me standing in the middle of the street when I had to jump out of the way of a man who almost walked into me. No one knew I was here.

And upon walking closer to the guards, neither did they.

I got up right close to these guards at the gate, so close I could see the whites of their eyes and the wrinkles on their faces. There were four of them.

One of them was an older one, in his late 30s or early 40s, bald, clean-shaven and mean faced and built like an auroch. He had tiny blue eyes that shone maliciously.

The second one, opposite him, was a younger man, in his 20s, no doubt, and he was tall and thin, with a full brown beard, short brown hair, and brown eyes. He looked remarkably unthreatening based on his face alone, like a puppy.

"How old did you say your sister was?" The older one asked the younger.

"Blow off, wanker." He replied instantly, and continued staring ahead, spear gripped tightly.

I expected something to happen, but not that.

"Relax, he doesn't mean anything by it." Another man, as old as the bald one, but with blonde hair, stood relaxed next to the brown-haired young man.

I then looked to the 4th guard, who could simply be described as short and rat-faced with unruly black hair. How he got a posting here is beyond me. He definitely looks more like a shady merchant than a guardsman.

I expected this one to say something, but he kept quiet. So I kept staring at them until something happened… a few minutes must have passed by, certainly.

The rat-faced one asked a question. "Shall we gather for wine and whores tonight after our shifts?"
"Aye." The bald one said.

"Sounds good." The brown-haired one affirmed.

"Never doubt it." The blonde one chimed in.

And that was that. The sum total of their conversation. The total of their human potential. Expressed in around 30 words. Disappointing, is what I'd say, but I already knew that most humans are like these four. Just… ignorant, of anything higher. More like beasts than men, truth be told.

But enough about that. Time to move on with the next part.

I walked away from the guards and towards a section of the wall that had only one guard. It was relatively close to the gate, so there was no need for more, on this side at least. That would make things easier.

"[Time Stop]."

The world turns gray as time stops moving at my command. Every single creature is frozen.

Yet, despite time not moving, I have neither time nor mana to waste.

I use [Dimension Move] to move from the ground and appear on top of the battlements. The guard that is supposed to be guarding is picking his nose. He does not know I am here, and how can he?

I take a second or so to look around. I see a fountain, gardens, beautifully arranged colored flowers, lovely tiled floors and… another set of walls, this time around the mayor's palace.

Seriously? This is getting annoying.

Not wasting any more time, I use [Dimension Move] yet again to move out from the battlements.

I repeat this process of using [Dimensional Move] to get on top of the walls and then down from them. Why use this method instead of jumping? Because I don't want to damage something by using too much strength. And why don't I simply teleport once, instead of twice? Because I cannot teleport to a place I do not see or have not been to. Annoying, but solvable.

All the same, after about 10 seconds in real time, I have passed all the defenses, and find the palace-enclosing walls behind me, and the palace ahead of me.

Time to see what the reaction shall be.

I use [Greater Invisibility] once more, before I break the [Time Stop]. I wonder… How long can I hold it?And how much of the world does it affect? Because I may hear from Lord Ainz if it affected him as well. He should be immune to its effects, but still, it is an interesting thing to know.

Questions for later. For now, time to see what happens…

Time moves once again as color returns to the world. And… nothing happens. Everything resumes the way it used to be. The birds are singing, the fountain waters are flowing, there's a gardener working on the bushes, a maid sweeping dust in front of the palace doors.

I can even, from here, hear the words of the guardsmen that I just bypassed.

"Want to bet on the hounds again tonight?"

"Can't, I have to visit my mother-in-law's house."

"Ugh. Tell me about it."

"I'd rather not."

Ah, another classic. Gambling and disdain for in-laws. Never change, humans.

I begin walking around the palace, taking it in, and trying to spot weaknesses. There is no rush, as unlike [Time Stop], [Greater Invisibility] does not have a big mana cost, and I only have to spend mana when the timer for it runs out and I wish to refresh the spell. As it stands, I can hold this state for hours.

The palace is quite nice. It is not too ostentatious, but from here I can see that quite a bit of money went into it, and its giant circular dome.

I wonder… how many could have been fed with the money that went into this place?

Perhaps fewer than I think, as this region is a mass producer of grain, and therefore, few people would hunger.

I shall soon find out. I have no respect for persons of power and authority in this world, none at all, unless they earn it, and this will be the trial of this city's mayor. Like a fly on the wall, I shall watch him, learn what he does, what he thinks of those he rules.

The surprise inspection is here, oh great mayor, will you pass it with flying colors, or fail?

---

Getting into the palace was remarkably easy. I simply had to use [Mist Form] to sneak in through an open window which was part of a hallway, and then use [Greater Invisibility] again to explore the palace. As for being incorporeal in a form of mist… it was a strange experience. I didn't like it. Seeing without eyes, moving without limbs, hearing without ears, it's really something else…I prefer being in my body, beautiful and perfect.

With that being said, what followed was… walking through the palace.

Paintings here and there, sculptures and busts, red carpets, nice shiny silverware… it's all rather quaint.

As for the size of the palace, it does not take me long to move within it. I explored many rooms. The formula remained the same. Find a door, try to hear if there is anyone inside. Mortals breathe loudly, so that's not difficult, and then there is also [Detect Life], a spell that I can use just to make sure. After ensuring that a room is empty, I either open it with [Knock] if it is locked, or simply by using my hands if it's not.

I found a few things inside the palace. A rather elegant looking set of armor, the mounted head of a great beast that I do not know the name of, a framed old book of some import, and…

"Yes, yes, yes!" A girl is screaming in between panting breaths.

"Shhh… quiet, my little rose. We don't want anyone to hear us. We are in the mayor's private room, after all."

"Sorry… It's just…I love you so much!"

"I love you too. Now, bite down on this." The older maid whispers lustfully.

The smell of fish, sweat and flesh, and the sounds of two women making ungodly noises and kissing and slurping over each other caused me to freeze in place and take a second to process what just exactly was going on.

Do I dare to see it? When I can smell it from here?
I have to see it.

"[Time Stop]." I cast the spell again, closed the door behind me, and walked calmly toward the source of the noise. There, I found an older woman, in her late 30s or early 40s, with brown hair, pinning down a younger girl, not even 20 years old, with fiery red hair. The older woman's hands… they were not where they were supposed to be, and they were engaging in acts that only a man and wife should. The poor young girl was biting down on some sort of wooden stick to muffle the noises she was making while the older woman was 'cleaning'.


I felt disgusted. Is this really what these people do during work hours?

I'd walk away and leave right now but… this is the mayor's room. There has to be something I could learn from here.

How do I get them to leave?

I turned and looked around the room until my eyes found a vase. A very expensive looking one.

This should do nicely.

I gently pushed the vase over the commode, but due to the nature of [Time Stop], it did not move, not just yet. Right after that, I took a seat on one of the chairs, used [Greater Invisibility] again, and ended [Time Stop].

Now, all I had to do was wait.

One second later, the vase made contact with the ground, and broke into a dozen pieces.

The 'Eep!' noises the maids made were hilarious, and watching them scramble and panic was even more so.

"This is a sign! A sign from the gods! What we do is forbidden!" The younger girl exclaimed while shaking the shoulder of the older woman. The older woman said nothing.

I however, had three things to say. First off, cover your breasts. Second off, shame on you for fornicating during work hours. At least have the decency to be a degenerate on your own time in a place that belongs to you, or go do it in a tavern. And lastly, I expelled a decent amount of mana to pull that trick with the vase, and I deserve some credit.

"Quiet. Let's clean this up."

"What shall we tell Mayor Rettenmaier?"

"We shall tell him nothing. We'll get Jeru from the Magician's Guild to help us. He'll be able to repair this no problem."

The younger girl nodded. At the older maid's words, the two of them began to go to work, and soon enough cleaned things up to the point that there was even no evidence of their previous degeneracy.

And as a bonus, they even locked the room from the outside, which meant that I could finally break [Greater Invisibility] and recover some mana. I have burned through half already, it feels like.

Now, time to see what sort of secrets Mayor Panasolei has…

---

Well… this was quite disappointing.

I dug through this man's room for what felt like an hour and I did not find anything of note. No chained children, no hidden pots of gold, no heretical literature, no proof of corruption, nothing. Just boring books and letters. 'Taxes' this and 'tolls' that and 'grain' this and 'iron' that and so on and so forth. How dull. Now, it may be that I don't understand what I'm seeing, or that the proof of corruption is somewhere else, but I didn't really see anything that shouldn't belong. And worst of all, I had to endure this whole endeavor while the faint smell of the maids' indiscretion floated through the air.

Apart from a letter from the man's daughter, telling him to 'stop eating so much'. So yeah, apparently, the mayor isn't comically evil or corrupt, just a glutton.

But still, something within me urged me forward to find confirmation, so that is what I did. I stalked through the palace like a lion until I eventually found the room in which the mayor worked.

And there, I watched him work and realized… he is absolutely dull.

He never misspoke against his employees, or disrespected them, and spent every possible hour(apart from the time he had a whole roasted pheasant for lunch) hunched over his desk, writing letters and reading through ledgers.

His writing is atrocious, by the way. As is the writing system these people use. Absolutely primitive looking writing system, I must say.

The contents of one particular letter was addressed to the king of this land, king Rampossa III, thanking him for having Gazef deal with the 'raiders' i.e the Sunlight Scripture. He stated that he is ever loyal to the crown and would send over the shipment of taxes soon. Based upon his ledgers, he actually is, and is only skimming a bit off the top, which is par for the course for an absolutely corpulent looking man like himself. The man is as bloated as a pig, and is as ugly as a wild boar, I forgot to mention. If being ugly was a sin, I'd have no choice but to strike him down where he stands right now. But as it stands, he is only a glutton who is lightly corrupt, which may be the best thing I can hope for in this nation.

In fact, he is probably a saint in comparison with the other rulers. I noticed in his personal checkbook that details the salary of his employees, that he receives a monthly salary ten times greater than his employees, and three times greater than his personal aides and ministers. This may seem a lot, but knowing the greed of men, it is a miracle it is not a hundred times greater.

All the same, while I now know that he is probably better off being kept alive, I will feel no remorse for what I do next.

---

The treasury in the palace was easy to find. It was in the basement, as treasuries usually are. Mortals are nothing if not predictable.

As for entering the treasury, that part was more difficult. They kept it locked, did not carry the key to the treasury on them, the gate was locked, and there were four guards situated there.

Entering would be difficult, and I was determined not to shed blood, and not to be found out.

I'd be a ghost, one with clean hands.

How to enter… how to enter… A distraction of some sort? I'd need only a moment.

I had a few tricks up my sleeve, but here, in a hidden and buried corner in the earth, I could use few.

There is one that I could do, but it'd probably be difficult to pull off.

"[Time Stop]."

The world went gray again. I was on a limited timer.

Alrighty then.

Delay Magic metamagic delays all spells by five seconds.

Should the spell occur within the Time Stop itself, it is wasted.

I put my hand against the floor and steadied myself.

Tremor is a 6th tier spell that causes whatever you touch to quite literally, tremble and shake. It is a lot like the spell [Earthquake] but weaker, and does not cause as much damage. It is a mini-earthquake, and one of the few geomancy spells I know.

The delay metamagic is to delay it by five seconds, the widen metamagic is so that it is spread out over a wider area, hopefully wide enough that it is felt by the entire palace, which should eliminate suspicion that it is an attack.

When it happens all at once, there should be light tremors, enough to chase out these four guards away from the treasury door. No one wants to be below the ground when there is an earthquake. So, once they leave, I will simply slip in, take just a bit to help support myself and Lord Ainz for a few weeks, and then slip out with [Greater Teleportation], appearing in a predetermined location i.e a vacant house that I already memorized.

Time to see how it goes. This is practice for the future in case I need to use [Time Stop] to kill or damage someone, since if I delay the spell too much after [Time Stop], it will be useless, and a colossal waste of mana. Thus… no pressure.

"[Delay Widen Magic: Tremor]."

One. I stand up.

Two. I use [Greater Invisibility] again to cloak myself.

Three. I stand far away from any path the guardsmen would take, ensuring they do not bump into me.

Four. I turn towards the guardsmen, and look at their frozen faces, waiting for a reaction.

Five. Time begins to flow again.

And the earth shakes.

I hear a painting fall on the ground, a bust break, maids scream, lamps fall, and overall chaos and confusion.

Did I overdo it? Tremor is a weak spell. This is a bit too much, I should think.

"What the sodding hell?"

"Aaaaaargh!"

"Earthquake!"

"Let's get out of here!"

Well… that was… effective. And a bit too conspicuous. But hey, the guards are skedaddling away from the treasury door, and running far away from it.

The tremors are still going on. They should be ending soon. Soonish.

No time to waste!

Again, using [Mist Form] to enter the treasury is laughably easy.

Within it I find… gold. Quite a lot of it, actuall. A fair bit of silver as well. It's rather well organized. Huh. I knew the fat mayor was diligent but this is something else.

It's all neatly stacked in rows and on boards, separated like books in a library. But I have not come here to take all this gold, not yet anyways.

Let's see here… More books…'The true founding of Re-Estize?' That one sounds interesting. Yoink. Mine now. What else… Sword, spear, hammer armor… more weapons… Let's see how strong they are.

I pick up a random spear. "[Greater Appraisal Magic Item]."

And it's… laughably weak. Level 21 gear level… that's High Class… the third lowest item tier. This spear is not even worthy to be a toothpick. Trash.

It's all trash here. No matter. It doesn't take long to find a drawer where a leather pouch filled with gold coins is located. It has a new owner. Time to count it out.
One, two, three… That makes 40 gold coins. 10 gold coins make a platinum coin, those are rarely used. 100 silver coins make a gold coin, thus here I have the equivalent of 4000 silver coins. And since a single silver coin is made up of 13 copper coins, this means I have the equivalent of 52000 copper coins.

"Nice."

Some more quick math follows. A single gold coin is enough to feed a family of four persons in Re-Estize for a whole month. This means I have in my possession now enough gold to feed 40 families for a month, or 3 families for an entire year.

I think that's too much money for me. I shall give the 30 gold coins to Lord Ainz, take 10 for myself, and of those 10, I'll give a gold coin to some of the beggars I saw living in the outermost regions of the city. They will put them to better use than this fat mayor.

Time to get out of here. A shame, I wish I could see the face that fat pig made when I literally showed him how much his palace can protect him from me… but such pleasures must be saved for another time. Now that I've already visited this place, I can come any time, and in the event of a war against this city, I'll have a backdoor towards the leadership, and we can ensure they can't seize the funds and escape. Plus, on the off chance Baharuth does actually conquer this city, they will find the treasury empty.

"[Greater Teleportation]."

And just like that I am gone, with no one having known I was ever there.


AN: Here you go, hopefully this chapter will elicit some laughs from you. I didn't want to blindly follow canon like most people do by hitching the MC to Momon and Nabe, and I hope you'll enjoy it.

 

[BenMalek]

Al-Faqr wa al-Taqwa​

It is well past midday. But we began our work early, and thus there is still daylight to burn. Before I head towards the temple, mana-deprived as I am, I must first confirm something.

I step out of the abandoned and ruined house in this dilapidated neighborhood, and look around for signs of life. Behold, I see a man, with one arm on his knee, the other unseen, sitting in the dirt, raggedy clothes and all. A beggar.

Time to talk to him.

He is asleep.

I shake him awake.

"Hey, wake up."

"Wha- who are you? Whaddaya want? Stay away! I don't want any trouble!" He shouts at me as he backs away, his back turned against the wall. He is scared. Why? What has been done to this man that he is like this?

"Do not be afraid. I have not come to harm you."

"Yeah! Then get lost."

"I will, I just want to ask you a question first." I tell him as I lean down to get closer to his level. Poor man… How can he live like this?

He looks around left and right with his eyes, probably expecting some sort of trap.

"Alright woman, ask your question and then leave."

"Did you feel an earthquake, or tremors recently?"

Confusion is on his face.

"An… earthquake? No. No, I ain't felt no earthquake."

"Thanks. That is all I wanted to ask you." I reach into my pocket, and pull out two gold coins that I had prepared beforehand. As I do so, he shrinks back in fear once again, but when he sees me taking out money, he is confused once more.

"Here. For your troubles. This should help you get back on your feet." I put the gold coins in front of him.

He is still hesitant. "Is this some sort of trick? Are you with Eight Fingers? Why are you doing this?" The questions come one after another.

"It's no trick. I am not from this land, and I don't know who or what Eight Fingers is. As for why I'm helping you, it's quite simple. You need help, and I can help you, so why should I not?"

The man blinks rapidly, trying to process my words. His blue eyes were once bright, but now they have clearly lost their color. His clothes are ragged and torn, there is a hole on his right boot where his toe is. He is thin, his beard is patchy, and his skin is tanned by the sun. Age looks to have taken its toll, but to anyone with a mind, it is clear these are the effects of a hard life.

"So… this money is for me? This is…" He looks down and reaches out with his hand, and takes the gold coins and grasps them tightly. "Two gold coins! I can eat for months with these. I can buy myself some new clothes, maybe even get healed in the temple!"

"Healed? What ails you?"

He hesitates at my question, but the period of hesitation is much shorter than before. "It's my arm." He says, before he takes off his cloak. I notice that he is wearing a white linen shirt that has been stained with dirt many times, and his left sleeve hangs limp. There is nothing within it. The man has lost one of his arms.

"My arm… I lost it… and ever since, my life has gone to shit. Not that it was anything special before, but at least I could work. Now, no one wants a cripple like me. I'm a burden, they say."

"How did you lose your arm, if I may ask?"
"The war. Against Baharuth. It was 2 years ago."

"You lost it fighting Baharuth. So you were a soldier?"

"No… just a farmer, a levy. They put a spear in my hand, drilled me for a few weeks, and then sent me off to fight trained knights. Said I'd win honor and glory. Said I'd protect Re-Estize. Pfft. What a joke. The only thing I've won is pain and hunger. And Re-Estize has never protected me."

Damn. This is… quite a story.

"Can I show you something about myself as well?"

"Sure. I guess."

I take off my cloak and show myself to him. He looks for the first time at my face and stares at it for what must be like minutes.

"I am not human. As you can probably tell."

"Are you an elf? You have pointy ears, and you're beautiful. So beautiful. My na said she saw an elf once, and she described her, and she said she looked like you do. Beautiful and with pointy ears."

"Thank you for your kind words, but I am not an elf."

"Then what are you?"

"I cannot tell you."
The answer stuns him for a moment before he continues speaking. "Did the gods send you? Have they finally answered my prayers?"

"I do not know your gods, and from what I have heard of them, I do not care to know them. But enough about them. Can I sit next to you?"

He blinks a few times. "Sure."

I sit next to him, and when I turn around, I notice he's staring again. Ugh. A mistake. I should have never taken the hood off, but it's too late now.

"Tell me more about yourself." I command him.

"More about myself? Sure… Well, my name is Johan, and I was a farmer before the war against Baharuth. I was the youngest of four sons, and two daughters."

"So you were the sixth born?"

"Yes. There's a 12 year gap between me and my sister, who's the second youngest."

Huh. So a surprise child. "Continue."

"Anyways, I was a farmer, I helped work the field with my ma and pa, since my brothers, well, most of them, went away to pursue their fortune. I lived in a small village to the west of the capital Re-Estize, and we worked there and served the local lord. Life was boring, unfair, and dull. You'll find that it's similar for most people in this kingdom."

I remained silent, waiting for him to continue. "My ma and pa wanted me to marry, but I refused. Didn't see the point. I had no land, since my eldest brother who lived with me and my ma and pa was already married and had kids who were my age, so I was the same age as my nephews. I wasn't a marriage prospect, and I didn't see the point in marrying."

"So you just worked there and lived. What were your hopes for the future?"

"I wanted to be… something, but those memories are so far away they feel like they belonged to another lifetime."

Aimless and adrift in life, with no inheritance and no future.

"How old were you when you went to war?"

"I was 26. Guess that makes me 28 now, not that celebrating my birthday is a good thing."

That sounds… dreadful. Two years lost adrift, without a roof over your head. Meanwhile that fat pig is eating his heart out.

Breathe in… breathe out… breathe in… breathe out… don't smite him… don't smite him…

Better change the topic.

"So, you mentioned you lost your arm in the war. I was under the impression that there is healing magic in this land. Why were you not healed?"

"Well… the army doesn't have healers, not magical healers anyways."

"Right… but there are healers in the cities, no? Why did they not heal you?"

He stares at me with a blank look on his face.

"Because you have to pay to get healed?"

I blink a few times.

"What?"

"You have to pay to get healing from the priests. Did you not know this?"

"... I did not."

"Yep, it's true. In fact, the church prohibits anyone from giving out free healing unless they get paid for it, even if they're not part of the church."

That is actually evil.

"You mean to tell me, that you gave your arm for your nation, and you had to pay to get healed, and you didn't have money to do so?"

"I had no money from the war. Levies do not get paid."

Every moment, I grow to hate this kingdom more and more. I must leave it before I begin to use flame and sword to strike down every member of the nobility and clergy.

"And even if I had money, it may not be enough."

"What do you mean?"

"If you have a lot of money, you can get healed of almost anything. If you don't… the best thing they can heal is a small cut or a cold. Restoring a lost arm ain't cheap."

"Just to be sure… the priests are using magic to heal, right? Not potions or other medicines."

He nods.

"What sort of greed is this?"

"The greed you find in nobles and priests. They take and take, and never give back."

My anger is roused. I must do something.

"Did you go to the temple of your gods in this city?"

"I did."

"And?"

"They said to come back when I had the money."

"But you can't get any money if you can't work because you have only one arm. Did you not tell them this? Or to give you a loan?"

"'Peasants are not trustworthy', the priest said."

Right. I think I've heard enough. I stood up in a rage and put on my cloak once more.

"You're leaving?"

"Yes. But I need to ask you another question first. Who were these 'Eight Fingers' you mentioned?"

"They're criminals. Very dangerous. They practically rule the kingdom's underbelly."

Right. A band of organized criminals. Perhaps one of them will show up and try to rob me? I could do to excise some of this wrath.

"Thank you for the information." I look at his arm. I have helped him, but perhaps there is more I can do? Time to find out. "I have another gift for you."

"Thank you, but you've already helped me so much. You don't have to give me anything more."

"But I want to give you another gift."

"Just… talking to someone, someone that treated me with a little human decency, is already a priceless gift."

"I shall give you this gift, and if you don't like it, give it back. Agreed?"

He smirks. "Fine. Let's see what else you have."

"Close your eyes. Do not open them until I tell you to do so." I command him. He hesitates, for but a moment.

"Alright." He obliges.
I lay my right hand upon his shoulder, and tear the cloth away. I look at the scar. It is old, and the man is filthy.

"What are you-"
"Shhh. Trust me."

He shuts up.

"[Restorative Blessing]." It is a 7th tier spell that restores lost limbs and organs, purges all poisons, curses, debuffs, grants massively increased healing over time and a small increase to stats across the board. The mana cost is expensive, and when it comes to pure healing power, [Heal] is stronger, but this has a higher likelihood of success.

And when a shining golden light in the shape of an arm begins to form out of his shoulder, I know it has succeeded. A few mere seconds later, his arm has been restored, identical yet opposite to his right, with no scar to be found, as if he had never lost it to begin with.

"Now, you may open your eyes."

He does so, and looks at his arm with wonder and amazement. "How is this… impossible…" He mutters under his breath again and again.

He looks at his arm for what feels like minutes, and I cannot constrain the smile on my face.

"Who are you? You have given me coin, listened to my story, and healed my arm. What can I do to repay you?" He asks me with wonder in his eyes, looking up, pleading.

"Go and find work that fulfills you. Do not beg on the streets, but build a home and a family, and help others as I have helped you. Do this, and we will be even."
I turn and walk away.

"Wait, I don't know your name!"

"You don't need to."
Dramatic exit, perhaps, but I could not resist. Now, time to see if what that man said of those priests is true.

---

It is still daytime. But the sun will set soon, no more than a few hours are left. Reflecting upon my time spent today, I realize I have done quite a bit. But the work is not yet done.

The temple to the gods of this land is found within the inner layer, outside the palace walls, but not far from them.

It's a tall structure, I can tell that much. It's the height of the palace, no doubt. As for external beauty, it is clean, well-maintained, and uses bright colors. The entrance is a wide open gate, made of some sort of metal. Bronze, perhaps? Or iron painted over? Who knows.

There are no people coming to and fro the temple. Perhaps they come in only on certain days, or during certain hours? Who knows.

I approach the temple, and stand on the precipice. What will happen when I walk in? Will the temple crumble, and the stones fall on my head? Will I spontaneously combust? Will nothing happen? Time to see.

I step into the temple and… nothing happens. How boring.

The temple to these gods is wide and spacious, with glass windows allowing plenty of light to shine through. I spot four statues at four cardinal directions. Each statue is made of different colored stone. Furthermore, I spot that in front of each of them is a small trinket, or idol perhaps, dedicated to these gods, as well as a place to light candles.

I approach one of them, it is of a beautiful and serene looking matronly woman wearing a long flowing dress holding a pitcher of water. The statue is colored a light aquamarine blue, like the color of a mountain lake.

In front of this woman, there is also a basin with pure clean water, probably to wash one's hands in. But I do not find such a basin with the other statues.

On the golden dais is written, with grand letters 'Mersi Melonne. The Goddess of Water', and below it: 'May her life giving waters purify our souls, wash away our filth, and sate our thirsts.'

So, a goddess of water, eh? I assume the others also correspond to the other elements.

Next, I approach a white statue. It is of a tall and thin looking man, standing proud. He is holding a lyre in one of his hands, and his other is extended toward the air. A tiny bird is sitting on his shoulder. The man looks young and he has gentle features. At the base of the statue, to be more precise, around its corners, are windchimes. They make small and gentle noises whenever the wind blows.

Like before, on the dais is written 'Venti Rex. The God of Air, may he free us from our burdens, bring swiftness to our feet and make our hearts as light as a feather'.

The same formula follows with the other two statues.

The brown statue, opposite the one belonging to the white one, belongs to a man who appears to be inspecting some sort of gemstone in his left hand, while holding a blacksmith's hammer in his right. The man is wearing craftsman's apparel, unlike the bard's apparel of the air god. And unlike him, this man is big, bulky, bearded and bald. On the dais is written 'Kovatsch. The God of Earth. May he give us the strength to forge a better tomorrow, and crush all forms of sloth.' In front of the statue, I find another basin, but this one has nothing but dirt. It is symbolic, I assume.

The red statue, opposite to the water goddess, depicts a man in armor, holding a torch in one hand, and a sword in the other. He is clad in armor, and his long hair, beard and magnificent mustache make him look like a hero of legend. On the dais is written 'Vishnu Arash. The God of Fire. May he illuminate our path, shine his light upon the truth and burn away all evil and falsehoods.' And finally, for this particular deity, there is a small altar where candles may be lit. I see the burned wax of many candles, lit by worshippers.

So… four elemental gods depicted as men. Or, three men and a woman.

There are more than four elements in Yggdrasil, I think someone forgot to tell that to those people. I also take a second to look around. I notice that in addition to the statues in these four directions, there's a main altar toward the northwest, between the two statues, yet elevated above them. It has a stand there, probably for the priest to hold his sermon, and a place to have his book there. I also find chairs and benches located here and there, but none in the open. There must be room to walk freely.

Overall, this main hall is spacious, and this is merely the ground floor. The temple is massive from the outside, so there are probably other rooms. Be they gardens, dormitories, rooms where they keep books, rooms where they keep the injured and the sick, and so on.

I hear steps from above, and turn around. Lo and behold, a man, clad in priestly garb. He is old, with a hairline so receding the only hair left is on the side of his head. He descends down the stairs until he reaches the ground floor, where I am.

"Greetings." He offers.

"Greetings." And I respond in kind.

"Service is over for today, but I am still here to help. What can I do for you?"

"I have come to learn more about the faith."

A smile spreads across his face.

"Ah, wonderful! Wonderful! Tell me, what would you like to know?"

"Everything."

He raises an eyebrow.

"Everything." I reiterate. "Where I come from, your faith has not reached. So, I want to learn all I can about your faith while I am here."

"Hmm…" He cups his chin. "You must understand, this is a difficult task. The theology of the faith cannot be summed up in a single sentence… This is why we have the holy books, and why we have service every day, why the priesthood spend their lives in the cloth."

Quit babbling.

"I am not asking for a full course… priest?"

"Bishop Lamar."

"Bishop Lamar. Merely a conversation where you can obtain how it came about, what its core tenets are, how you propose life should be lived, and a bit about the church etc. Any detailed study requires time."

"True, true. Well, let us take a seat. My knees aren't what they once were."

Very well.

He sits down on one of the available benches that are off to the side, and gestures for me to do the same.

"Can I ask you for your name?" He asks.

"My name…"

"If it's alright. I also noticed that you haven't removed your cloak, so you may not be comfortable with sharing your name. We have all kinds of people who come here."

Hmm… my creator, Wish III called me 'Radiant' once… Yes, that'll do.

"You can call me 'Daya'. As for the cloak, I'm sorry but I can't take it off."

"That's fine. So, 'Daya', before we begin, can you tell me how much you know?"

"About your gods? Nothing." I responded.

"Nothing… Well, I suppose this means I should start at the very beginning. Six hundred years ago, the gods from heaven saw humanity's plight. We were slaves and cattle to the beastmen, and we lived under constant terror. They took pity on us, and took mortal forms so they could interact with the material, and descended in our time of need."

"Then what happened?"

"They, that is to say, the gods, destroyed humanity's enemies, gathered the lost children, and built a home for them. Then, they lived among their children and taught them their ways. Ways of science, magic, morality, law and civilization. All the things we use today to make our lives greater than the lives of beasts." Looks like they didn't do a good job of teaching you people if you ask me…

"And once they saw that their children were self-sufficient, like any good parent, they allowed them to grow on their own. The gods shed their mortal forms, and returned to their heavenly homes, where they have watched over us ever since."

When it comes to religions, it's not very spicy. Perhaps that makes it true? Or perhaps it speaks to the lack of the imagination of their people.
"So, that is the origin story of your faith."

"Yes. I'm sure you have questions."

"I do, but I'd rather learn a bit more about your theology before I ask them. Tell me about your temples, more about your gods, the things they taught, and so on."

"Good. Follow me." He declares, and stands up. He walks past the statue of the air god, and leads me down a hallway. We pass another clergyman on the way, as well as a woman, a nun, or priestess, whatever she may be, carrying a bucket of water and a towel. I noticed that though the layclergy cover themselves completely, except for their faces, they do not shy from adding color. The priest we passed has a blue armband on his left arm that works well with his brightly colored robes. The nun had no colors on her arms, and the bishop had a rainbow colored armband on both his arms. The bishop leads me toward a room where there are various paintings and books and lampstands and other artifacts, all hidden behind glass.

He points toward one of them. It is of six figures descending from the clouds. The sky is dark, overcast and dreary, except for the part of the sky where these figures descend from. The right part of the painting. From there shines light. Six figures in different colors. Red, blue, brown, white, gold and black. The black figure in particular looks like it is wearing a mask, and is the most separate from the other five. Beneath these descending figures, are human beings, young, old, male and female, trembling in fear. Some are holding weapons, primitive in make, some are running with their babies and small children in their hands. Some are leading their livestock and cattle away, and others are prostate and looking up to the sky. On the left side of the painting, there is only what could be described as a horde of monsters. They are ugly, filthy, and look violent and murderous. It is evident what the picture is trying to tell.

It is even written in the title. 'The descent of the divine, and the beginning of the rule of law.' is written below the painting on a plaque. It too is hidden behind glass.

"What do you see?"

"The descent of the gods?"

"Exactly. Here they are saving their people from the evil of the beastmen."

Fascinating.

"These two figures here… and especially this one… they are painted as smaller… and less radiant, than the other four. Can you explain why?"

"Certainly. It is a theological matter."

I remain silent, and wait for him to continue. He clears his throat and does so.

"Well, the church here, in Re-Estize, worships the Four Great Gods, who have the two lesser gods as servants, that though are indeed worthy of veneration, are not considered viable for worship or prayer. The church of Re-Estize believes then that it is proper that only the Four Gods are worshiped, and not the Six. The same applies to our neighbors in Baharuth. However, in the Slane Theocracy, humanity's birthplace, they worship those two lesser gods on the same level as the Four."
A religious schism? Finally, something interesting. And it could prove useful.

"So, they worship Six, and you worship Four. Why the split? Who is right?" I ask him.

He gives me a small smile. "If you ask anyone from Slane, they will say they are in the right."

I nod in affirmation. "Naturally. And you'd say the same thing, or am I mistaken?"

He chuckles to himself. "No, you are not." He then takes a deep breath. "It has to do with a matter of theology. You see, one of these two was the 'God of Death', and the other the 'God of Life'. The reason why the church here in Re-Estize rejects the notion that they are equal to the Four is threefold. The first reason is that while we have records of the Four shedding their mortal forms peacefully, the record for the God of Death is quite the opposite. The records state that he died in battle."

He died in battle? Wait a second… this may be something. I better listen carefully.

"In battle? Against whom?" I reply. What could kill one of their gods?

He leads me to a painting, two paintings away from the one he showed me. There are two paintings in between that he did not explain, but that may come later. "Against the Eight Greed Kings, who were wicked and prideful beings that came about a century after the arrival of the gods."

He elaborated as he pointed me toward a painting depicting a shadowy and robed being, defending a young woman holding a suckling babe. The robed being's opponents are eight giant and monstrous beings, more like blobs than men, caricatures, with horns and wicked eyes and teeth and golden crowns. Unlike the painting before it, this one is done in a different style, and the colors are far more striking and unhinged. It depicts something… chaos, I realize.

There is another plaque. On it is written 'When death died to save mankind from the rule of evil.'

"Where did they come from?" I ask him, referring to these monsters, or 'Greed Kings' as they are called.

"No one knows for certain."

"But do you know what they were? Because humanity is not enslaved, from what I can see. And if the gods went back to heaven, and their mortal agents here were slain, then these 'Greed Kings' could do whatever they wished. They could enslave humanity, or even exterminate it altogether. Yet, they didn't." I pose the question.

"There is little knowledge about them, but we do know this. They were mighty, and their goals were rule, not destruction. It is in the name, you see. A 'greedy king', not a bloodthirsty warlord." He elaborates.

You seem to have a lot of holes in your theology. But I'll circle back to that in a minute.

"Anyways, continue, about the nature of the Four. I think these 'Greed Kings' can wait."

"Be it as you wish. So where were we? Ah, yes, the nature of the Four." He scratches at his chin. He probably shaved earlier today, or perhaps yesterday. I can see the hairs growing in, but he still looks presentable.

"The opinion of the church here is that unlike the Four Primal elements, that correspond to the Four Cardinal directions, Life and Death are two sides of the same coin, so they can even be considered one element. Furthermore, while the Four elements help make up creation and all things in it, and they exist independently, life cannot exist without them, and is thus subordinate. And death cannot exist without life, therefore death is also subordinate to the primal elements."

"I think I get the logic here."

"Lastly, the Four never suffered defeat, not even once, during their lives here among us. It is written so in the holy books. They destroyed all who sought to harm humanity, be they demons, beasts or dragons." He takes me to another painting. This one is quite different. It is a painting, yet there are also four smaller paintings at the same time. Some form of polyptych.

In the middle, there is a sprawling city being raised up by men and women doing all sorts of tasks. There are horses and beasts of burden and a clear blue sky.

In the top left corner I recognize what seems to be the woman from before, again clad in blue, and this time depicted with brown hair. She is holding what seems to be a newborn in her arms, and looking at him lovingly.

In the bottom left corner is the bearded and bald man, the earth god, with brown skin and a black beard, forging what seems to be a plowshare. His face is grim and focused, and there is a young man looking at him with amazement. An apprentice, most likely.

In the top right corner is the figure that I could only assume to be the fire god. With tanned skin like an olive, though not as dark as the earth god's, and fiery red hair, and soldiers to witness him, he is depicted overlooking a hill, with fire raining down from the sky and burning countless multitudes of monstrosities. The figures are amazed and awed, and bow before him.

And lastly, in the bottom right corner, is the air god. He is depicted sitting on grass, with a great many people gathered around him. There is an open book that lies on top of a blanket spread across the grass, and the people looking at him speak with rapt attention. He is telling some sort of story, or reading it from a book, and they absorb it.

"As soon as the gods departed this world, they entrusted their servant, the god of death, to guard humanity."

"So you acknowledge he existed?"

"Yes. Some cults do not, but they are mistaken."

Right. "Please continue."

"They left their servant, the god of death, behind, but he was engaged in battle and defeated, and killed, in fact. It is written. We know this for a fact. Now, how can he be killed if he is the god of death, or if he is on the same level of power as the Four?"

A logical question.

"I don't know."

"A sound answer. We do not know. The church did not know how to answer it for a long time. It was a difficult question, debated about for centuries. Eventually, after the destruction of the Demon Gods, the scholars gathered, and a ruling was made. The gods of death and life are not gods in the sense the Four are."

Hmm… Wait a second. Demon Gods?"


"The church of Re-Estize eventually split from Slane, when it was decreed that the solution to this theological debate was simple: The god of death, was not as strong as the Four, and therefore was not on the same level of divinity and therefore not worthy of worship, and the same applied to his counterpart, the god of life."

This is some quality schizophrenia. Still.

"What about these 'Demon Gods'?"

"That topic is a long one, and there is plenty of conflicting information about that period. There's little we know for certain. Ironically, we know more about what happened four centuries ago than two centuries ago."

"Right."

"But this much we know for certain. We know these Demon Gods were evil. We know that they caused great havoc and death across the land. And we know that a group known as 'The Thirteen Heroes' defeated them."

"Thirteen Heroes… I imagine these figures aren't among us anymore?"

"Who can say? Humans do not tend to live for more than a century, let alone two, that much is certain."

Hmmm… I'll have to look that up another time. Back to the matter of these gods.

"These paintings are impressive, but there is a question I must ask. You say these four, or six, whatever, are actually gods. What would you say if I claimed that they were simply powerful mortals who were deified? Do you have any evidence against this claim?"

"Evidence?" He scoffs. "Look around you."

"Right. I do not mean your church. I mean, do you have actual evidence these beings are gods?"

"There is plenty of evidence, should you look into the holy books and read them. But that is not what you're asking. You are asking for proof here, on this world, correct?"

"Yes."
He begins walking again, away from the room with the paintings, and leads me back toward the main worship hall, where we just came from.

"The greatest evidence I can give you, is the existence of magic, and to be more specific, healing magic."

"Oh?" This should be interesting.

"Yes. Human beings are uniquely qualified as magic casters among all species, being able to use Tier Magic to a level unseen in other races. A gift, left behind by the gods, so that we could defend ourselves." This guy is blowing hot air, but still… Tier Magic? How are they able to use it?

"That makes sense. Do you mind telling me a bit more about Tier Magic?"

"Yes. The limits of magic are unknown. The greatest magic caster known to man is Fluder Paradyne, of the Baharuth Empire. He can cast magic of the 6th tier. We do not know how far magic goes, or how many tiers there are, as that is something only the gods know, but no man living has been able to reach higher than six. It is rumored that the sixth tier is the limit for a mortal. But even something as the 1st tier is an achievement, and there are fewer and fewer people on every subsequent tier. Magic is a study that takes a lifetime to master, and it is difficult to grasp for even the cleverest among us."

Funny bald man. There are ten tiers in total. I must constrain my laughter. But please, do carry on.

"This Fluder must be quite strong. Tell me, what tier are you able to use?"

"Bishops must be able to use spells of the 3rd tier. I was ordained as a bishop 15 years ago, but sadly, I have not moved past that tier yet. Yet, despite that, I am happy ministering to my flock."

I cast a gaze toward the priestess who had just finished cleaning one of the statues. The nun or priestess, whatever she is, walks away and enters a hall that leads toward some other room. Where it leads, I know not.

"I imagine you teach about morality and the laws the gods set forth that we should follow, right?" I ask him.

"Yes. In fact, we just had a service today about the laws of the gods, namely, the laws of hospitality. I invite you to come early next week on the fourth day of the week, in the morning, and witness the service for yourself."

"A kind offer. I will think about it. I have a few other questions, if you don't mind me asking."

"Of course."

"What other things does the church teach?"

"The best way to describe the church's teachings is 'the good of mankind above all else'. Now, you may find yourself with questions as to what this means. It means to treat your fellow man with respect, with love, with brotherhood. To unite as a community, to work hard, to share knowledge, to act truthfully and to do no harm to your fellow man." Now that's funny. Does it say anything about greed, or hypocrisy?

"I see. Those are good teachings to follow. What constitutes your fellow man?"

"Every man is your fellow man, and every woman is your fellow woman."

"What about these… beastmen?"

"Those are not men, but I see where you come from. The answer to that question is that since those species were not chosen by the gods, they are incapable of morality, and thus should be dealt with frugally, shrewdly, or better yet, not at all, and should be avoided lest they bring destruction upon our communities."

"Beastmen are evil?"

"Yes. They are all of them wicked down to the core. Merely look at what is happening in the Draconic Kingdom as proof. Cities razed, and all the inhabitants hauled off to be eaten alive. Thousands have perished, and yet the savage hordes do not stop."

"...I beg your pardon?"

The priest walks to one of the chairs and takes a seat. I take a seat on the chair next to him.

He turns to me, and I see the faintest constraint of rage on his face.

"Have you not heard the tales? The merchant caravans have spread them far and wide. The Draconic Kingdom is under invasion by beastmen, and they have lost quite a bit of ground and suffered many casualties. Thanks to the aid of the Slane Theocracy and Baharuth Empire, the beastmen's advance has been halted for now, but I fear it is a matter of time until the Draconic Kingdom falls. The beastmen breed like vermin, you see. Their numbers will replenish quickly, and war is all they live for. Unless some miracle of the gods happens, eventually they will attack again in numbers and overrun our brethren in the east."

If these gods of theirs are true, why do they not help this kingdom?

"Is the Draconic Kingdom a heretical one? Ruled by dragons?"

"No. They follow the same faith as us, though there are rumors that their queen is descended from a Dragon Lord. But truth be told, we do not know whether or not she is or is not. Nor do we know why the kingdom is being destroyed. Perhaps it is a trial from the gods, or perhaps it is punishment for their sins. Who can tell?"

I fall silent and contemplate what he has said so far. Dragon Lords? Beastmen invasions? People being eaten alive?

"The way I hear you say it, all beastmen are evil."

"Yes." He nods, before lifting up a finger. "But, do not confuse beastman and nonhuman. A beastman is just that, more beast than man, whereas a nonhuman is anyone not human."

"Can you give me some examples?"

"Dwarves and elves are nonhuman, and though not chosen by the gods as their favored children, they possess a semblance of grace, and can therefore be treated as rational beings, albeit lesser than humanity. Thus, whereas one can call a dwarf or an elf an acquaintance, or perhaps even a friend in time, a beastman will never be more than an enemy. And of course, there are other nonhuman races throughout the world that have a semblance of sapience, but the church's official stance is to treat them with suspicion."

This guy is giving me a lot to work with. Not all of it is good.

"Do you mind if I ask you a question now?" He says. It surprises me.

"No, go ahead."

"Where do you come from? I assumed you would know at least some of these things."

Where I come from… Nazarick, of course, but I cannot say that. But… perhaps those other memories can come into play.

"A small village next to the sea, shadowed by the mountains. It is warm and dry there, and it smells of citrus fruits and salt sea air."

"And what faith do you practice in those lands?"

"I was never religious… but the people worshiped one singular god, if I remember correctly. And there were no non-humans."

"Hmm… A land free of non-humans… sounds like paradise." What the? "Thank you, for satisfying my curiosity. But this sounds nothing unlike any land I have ever heard of, but then again the world is vast, no?"

I have to school my expression and not give away anything.

"Indeed. I only just recently started exploring. Tell me, should I ever get injured, can I come here to be healed?"

"Yes. Yes we offer healing to anyone who needs it."

"And how is it that you are able to use healing magic? It is different from regular arcane magic that the wizards use, right?"

"Indeed, it is so. The fact that we who believe in the gods' existence and dedicated our lives to them are able to use divine magic and heal people, and that devotees to certain gods have certain spells that only they can use, is the chief argument that proves the existence of the gods, and chastises the heathen."

"So… I take it to mean that one who believes in the existence of the gods and dedicates himself to them, may learn how to heal people?"

"Yes, but it is a long road."

"What about those who do not dedicate themselves to the gods? Can they use healing magic?"

"Unfortunately, there have been no documented cases. The gods are the source of all divine power."

So… you people are either liars or clueless. My entire existence disproves your faith. But no matter, last question.

"So… To reiterate, I can come here anytime I want, and be healed?"

"Yes. We will heal you, as long as you're able to give to the gods what is theirs."

"What's theirs? I don't follow."

"Honest work deserves honest pay, wouldn't you agree? Without funds, the church would shut down, and we would not be able to support our many projects, such as feeding and clothing the poor, or bringing knowledge to the masses."

"I don't pay, I don't get healed. Is that right?"

"I dislike such crass language, but yes. Those are the orders we must follow from up high."

I think I've heard enough. At the end of the day… It's all greed.

I get up and shake the bishop's hand.

"Bishop Lamar. Thank you for enlightening me. You have given me much to think about."

"Any time. Do please come back. The youth is ever at the forefront of the church's thoughts."

The setting sun's light shines through the stained glass windows and gives an eerie ambiance.

There is a question gnawing at me.

"I have a few more questions." I state, and the bishop turns around. His face betrays his nervousness. I have clearly tested his patience.

"Do the gods teach an afterlife?"

"Yes. Those who do good are rewarded with life in the gods' presence, those who do evil are punished with eternal suffering."

How basic.

"Which god would you say you are most dedicated to?"

The question takes him by surprise. He did not expect it.

"Huh… I never dedicated myself to any one of the gods, but if I had to choose, it'd be the God of Fire. I have often prayed to him to help me burn away the lies from the truth, and to destroy the wicked."

I nod at him.

"Thank you, Bishop Lamar. I will remember your words. You have been a great help to me."

"It's been a pleasure." He responds.

And someday return to reunite you with your god. Since you like fire so much that is how you'll meet your god. In fact, there will be so much holy fire, you'll drown in it.

 

[BenMalek]

Ha'ra'a b'levavot bnei adam​

Once night fell, I went to meet with Lord Ainz in a room he rented out in an inn. He was seated, and had banished his helmet, revealing his skeletal visage, but he was still wearing his armor.

Lupusregina Beta and Narberal Gamma were also there, but they seemed disinterested. Lupusregina was sitting/lying on a bed, with her legs on the ground, knees at a 90 degree angle, and her back on the bed, and she was staring at the ceiling. Narberal was standing like a statue.

I entered and took a knee. "My lord."

"Arise, Remiel. The room is warded, and you may speak."

After standing up, I reached into my [Inventory] and took the leather pouch with the gold coins and placed it upon the shabby wooden table in this decrepit hovel of an inn.

"I have obtained funds. Within this pouch you will find 30 gold coins, which should be more than sufficient to help support your endeavors for the next few weeks."
Narberal took the pouch and gave it to Lord Ainz.

"Good job. This will prove useful. Anything else to report?"

"Yes. I have some information about the city, the mayor and palace, the church and their religion, and the annual war. You will find it all written on this report. I just finished writing it." I said as I again took out a few sheets of paper from my [Inventory] and placed them on the table. "I can give you a quick summary, should you wish."

"Hmmm…" He cups his chin, eyes staring at the floor, contemplative expression on his face, before turning his gaze toward me, flaming red eyes and all, and simply nodding.

"Let us begin with the administrative side of things. The mayor is a glutton, but he does a decent enough job. Could be worse. The palace is nice enough, but there's nothing of real value within."

"Continue."

"On to the clerical matters. Their religion is a joke. They worship a group of 6 deified humans that descended to this world from heaven 6 centuries ago and then saved humanity from monsters. Then they grew old, died, and the only one left was killed by 8 other mortals a century after the arrival of the original 6. They are greedy, and either unsure of the truth of things or actively cover it up. They claim that the existence of divine magic is proof of their gods, but reject the notion that there are beings that can use divine magic yet do not worship their gods. There were also 'demon gods' 2 centuries ago that caused quite a bit of chaos, before being killed by a group of heroes, called the '13 heroes'."

"Hmmm. So these six gods, they came 6 centuries ago, and wielded great power, I assume?"

"So their legends say."

"And then there was another group that came 5 centuries ago, and yet another that came 2 centuries ago? Hmm… as a matter of fact, I remember that man from the Sunlight Scripture mentioning something about these 'demon gods' when he summoned that angel."

"Perhaps there is a link?"

"Perhaps. Or perhaps there is more to this than we might first assume. Nonetheless, carry on."

"Right. Lastly, the Baharuth Empire attacks this nation every year, and quite a lot of people have suffered due to their attacks, so there is bad blood there. But not just between the common folk and the Emperor, but also between the nobility of this land. So that is an angle."

"Demiurge will probably find this information useful. He is in fact in the Royal Capital right now, collecting information."

I imagine he will find it useful.

"Well, Remiel, I must say, you have done well. But before I congratulate you, I have a question to ask. Did you perhaps use [Time Stop]?"

I blink. "Yes."

"Umu. Please approach."

I approach, and then he stands up. And karate chops my head. It hurts a bit but and I'm stunned, figuratively, of course.

"Cut down on the time manipulation! It's annoying to be in a conversation and then have to wait because whoever I'm talking to is suddenly frozen! Also, it appears that time manipulation affects the entire world, so if there are other beings out there who can tell when it happens, they may figure us out!"

Wow. The chastisement came out of nowhere. It's surprising. He's also right.

"I apologize, Lord Ainz. I will refrain from using [Time Stop] unless necessary."

"See that you do so."

"Did ya cause any mischief with [Time Stop]? I always wanted to use it to cause trouble." Lupusregina asks me.

"I perhaps engaged in a bit of tomfoolery."

She stands up, gives me a big smile and a thumbs up. "Nice!"

"Personally, I do not see the point. I would rather just destroy any tapeworm that annoys me." Narberal comments.

"If you did that to everyone that annoyed you, this city would be populated by ghosts." I replied.

"Nabe, please refrain from electrocuting people unless I tell you to. As for you, Remiel, tell me, what will you do next? You mentioned both Slane and Baharuth the last time we discussed this matter."

"Lord Ainz, I plan on traveling east to the capital of the Baharuth Empire, and taking the measure of them. I want to examine their military, their guilds, their administrative system, the ruling class, the general feelings among the populace, and so on."

He nods his shiny white head and proceeds to gaze out the window. "Yes, that sounds like a good plan. You will handle Baharuth, Demiurge will handle Re-Estize. We will leave Slane for later. They seem like they have some tricks up their sleeve."

"As you say."

"I will take a merchant caravan tomorrow morning. I have already booked passage with them, and they will take me straight to Arwintar, the royal capital. It is my opinion that spending time among the merchants will allow me to learn valuable information."

"That is a good idea. Do you have anything else to share?"

Do I?

Ah, yes. The Draconic Kingdom.

"I have also heard rumors about interesting events in another land to the east of Baharuth, called the Draconic Kingdom. It's low priority compared to the three nations Nazarick is surrounded by. I'd like your permission to investigate these events."

"Granted. I shall grant you the same authority I have granted to Demiurge. You may operate at your leisure."

I bow my head. "Thank you, Lord Ainz."

"You are dismissed." He says and then sits down on the table where I left the papers to read the report I wrote up. I do not need to be told a second time to leave. One quick usage of [Greater Teleportation], and I am gone.

---

When nighttime sets, mortals act differently compared to daytime. A natural consequence of their biology. In the villages, the mortals go to bed early, as it is dangerous to be about at night, and it is necessary to get up as early as possible to get their work done before the daytime heat becomes unbearable.

In cities, especially big ones like E-Rantel, this does not necessarily apply. People can work throughout the daytime because many work in shops or offices where they are shielded from the sun. People can even work a few hours into the night with the aid of lamps and candles and other forms of artificial light.
It is evident now, I can see it and hear it and smell it from here. Unfiltered humanity. From my vantage point, seated on the top of the temple to the heathen gods, I can witness it all. Plus, I find it amusing to use the highest point of their temple, that which their priests cannot touch and see, as a chair.

Plus, it is relatively quiet here, and I can at any point turn toward the moon and stars and behold their beauty. Synchronized and ordered, following a set pattern ordained in the heavens without fail, fulfilling their purpose.

It makes me wonder? How do mortals go about their lives? Do they have purpose? Do they know it? Do they know how they were created, by whom and for what purpose? Do they know how to spend their limited days upon this world?

From my limited interactions with them… the answer to all of this is a resounding 'No'.

They don't know anything. It is quite sad. Every member of Nazarick knows by who they were created, and what purpose within the greater whole they serve.

While the mortals… they cannot agree on something as simple as how many gods to worship. They cannot agree on who should be the ruler of this part of land or that part of land, and they cannot agree on how much taxes they should pay.

The Slane Theocracy, the supposed birthplace of humanity, dresses up their soldiers as part of another nation, and sends them to destroy villages, all with the hope of drawing out a single man and ending his life. Why? Probably because it'd cause great damage to this kingdom. Why do they wish to cause great damage to this kingdom if they claim to be defenders of humanity?

Lust over land? Religious conflicts? Seeing a vulnerable opponent and feeling an insatiable urge to poke him? Or perhaps witnessing the rot infesting this country and desiring to cut off the whole hand at once instead of slowly curing the infection.

I do not know.

I do know this however. Discord, chaos, death, greed. They are everywhere. Perhaps it would be better for Lord Ainz to conquer them all? Many would die… yes… but eventually, everything would be proper.

Time will tell, I think. For now, I think I have spent enough time sitting on the roof of this temple, reading one minute and watching the drunkards slip and crash into each other and argue loudly the next minute. There are still many hours until daylight and the departure of the caravan, and I might as well use the time I have now to go down on the ground and see what E-Rantel by night has to offer.

---

No one even noticed me enter the 'Red Rooster' tavern. It is as stereotypical a tavern as one could imagine. Within one can find wooden chairs and tables, big-bosomed wenches carrying tankards of beer and plates of food, and the perpetually scowling barkeeper judges those who have had one or four drinks too many.

Also within said tavern, one can also find rowdy and drunk adventurers, singing over this triumph or that. Proclaiming what grand deed they have done, or what foul monster they've slain, or singing about some woman they've bedded. It's all rather quaint. Like watching children play in the mud.

Seeing as I am already here, I decide to do something I will probably regret. Order a drink. Since I cannot actually get drunk, or poisoned, the worst thing that can happen is a feeling of nausea and disgust. The former is temporary, the latter is not.

I drop a gold coin on the bar. "Give me a drink."

The barman, a tall and burly looking man with big and hairy arms and a beer gut looks me up and down for a fraction of a second and then turns back his gaze toward some grunt pawing with his hands where he shouldn't. His eyes are sharp, his beard is trimmed, and his hairline looks like it began to recede and managed to win an inch of ground over his scalp, before he noticed it and commanded it to stop. All in all, I give him a solid 9/10 when it comes to barmen. He is lacking a big mustache and a rifle hidden within arm's reach.

"A drink? Yeah, sure." He says while not looking directly at me or the coin I placed on the counter.

"Do you have a shotgun hidden somewhere?"

"We just serve what's on the menu, lass."

"So that's a no."

"That's a no."

A pity.

He mutters something under his breath that sounds like it begins with 'whore' and ends with 'son'. After doing so, he looks at me, and the gold coin again, and at me again.

He grabs it, and bites it. Then he puts it back on the counter.

"This is real." He states the obvious.

"Yes." I reply blandly.

"How many drinks do you even want?" An eyebrow raised.

"Just the one." And a question answered.

"That's… gonna be a lot of change. I'm not sure I'm able to do that. Don't you have anything smaller?"

Are you scared of math or something?

"Then give me some food or your best drink, I don't care. And keep the change, if subtraction is too difficult."

He tisks audibly, swipes the coin, then leaves the counter to go into the back. Some things are said and some words are shouted. The barman returns a minute or so later with a wooden mug filled with golden gleaming liquid and fuzzy white bubbles.

"Here you go. Best thing I have on offer. You'll have to wait for the food a bit. Refills are free."

"Hey! You guys heard that! Geren said refills are free!"

"Not for you, dickhead! For her."

"Free! Free refills!" Some idiots in the back shouted. Upon hearing this sound, one of them got so excited he smashed a chair against his comrade's head, who was in the midst of singing about a woman who lusted for a man with horse's genitals. The chair hitting the man's skull did not seem to affect him. Perhaps because there was no risk of injury to the cobwebs serving as a brain within?

I blink a few times as I examine the scene. Then I look toward the barman again. On his face one sees disinterest and acceptance, but within I know his soul is seething. He does not want to do this, and did not expect to do this.

"Do you want me to quiet them down?"

He chuckles. He looks at me and he chuckles once again, but louder this time. Then it turns into a full blown laughter that dies as quickly as it was born. Once again, his face is completely straight and there's not a single smile line on it. "You serious?"

"Yes."

"But you're… you're just one person. And a woman. Even if you're strong… you can't handle them all."

"I can."

"Yeah… the only thing you can do is get yourself into a world of trouble. Lemme give you some advice. Sit tight, drink your beer, and eat your meal. Messing with adventurers never ends well."

Disbeliever. I offer to help fix his problem but he refuses. Be it on his head.

"Speaking of. My meal. Mind telling me how it's going?"

"In a minute. But aren't you going to try your beer first?"

Fine. Sure. Whatever.

I take a sip.
It is disgusting.

"How does it taste?"

'Like it can be used to kill cockroaches' is what I wish I could say, but I am trying to be civil. At the same time, I cannot lie. In a bit of a jiffy, I am.

"It's the best beer I've ever tasted." I say and force out a smile.

It is also the only beer I've ever tasted, and thus it follows that it is both the best and the worst.

"Knew you'd like it." He offers up a smile, a heartfelt one. "I actually brewed it myself."

"Truly? I didn't know you had the time for such things."

"Well… being a barman, brewer, and tavern owner is less like three distinct jobs and more like three facets of a singular job, you know?"

"I am familiar with the concept."
"It's a family business, this tavern. As a matter of fact, my daughters are in the kitchen right now cooking up your meal."

"Oh? How interesting." I turn my gaze toward a serving girl that just barely managed to avoid the grasping hands of a jolly good fellow whose teeth are yellow. "Not out here?" I jab my finger.

He frowns. "No."

"Any sons?"

"I… had a son. He died."

"May I ask how?"

"Even tavern owners' sons aren't exempt from the levy."

Ah. The war.

"Nasty business that war. As a matter of fact, just earlier today I met a man who was a veteran, and was injured in the war. Lost an arm."

"And let me guess, he was homeless?"

"Yes. Couldn't get a source of income. No one wanted to hire him."

"It's a common enough story." He snorts. "The bloody Emperor on the one side, the nobles on the other. It's like a millstone, and we're the wheat."
A bell rings from within the kitchen.

He turns toward the kitchen, and a girlish voice yelling 'Ready!' could be heard. He turns back toward me and smiles. "Lemme go bring your food."

I extend my hand toward the kitchen in a 'Please, go ahead' gesture that I faintly remember my creator Wish III making once upon a time.

In the meantime, I take another sip of my beer. Revolting. But oh well, the man went through the trouble of making it, might as well do him the honors of drinking it at least to about half the mug's weight. Anything less would be an insult.

Another person takes a seat next to me. A man, by the looks of it. He doesn't speak to me, thus I ignore him.

Out of the kitchen, carrying a big wooden tray with one hand, and a breadbasket with the other. On the wooden tray there is what appears to be fried fish meat, skewered on a stick alongside bits of cheese and a variety of greens. There are six of these sticks, and honestly they do not look bad.

"Here you go. Enjoy."

I grab one of these sticks, and bite in, careful not to accidentally bite through the wood.

And it's… actually decent. I take another bite. Before long, I had eaten it all, and began the second.

"What do you think?"

"Very good."

"Good. My daughters will be pleased to hear it."

After swallowing the bite, I wash it down with some more beer, and take one of those sticks and offer it to the barman.

"Take it."

"What? No. I can't. You paid for it."

"Just take the damn thing and be my company during this meal. I cannot eat in front of a man's face and leave him hungry. It does not feel right."

On his lips spreads some sort of smile, semi-defeated. He cannot object.

"Fine. Just the one."

"Makes no difference to me if it's one or more than one, as long as you join me."

He bites in and I can see the taste buds activating. It's good. To him it's even better, since his daughters cooked it.

"It's good. Like I said."

"Aye, like you said."

We fall into silence like that for a few seconds, no one saying a thing. It is a comfortable silence. But in such an environment, silence does not last. It can not.

"Have you ever thought of hiring some bodyguards to help at least quiet down the rabble?"

He shakes his head. "Doesn't work. Adventurers are too strong, especially those gold-ranked and above. Besides… I already tried it. I have to end up paying for healing for whoever I hire or else they never come back. I just end up spending money for nothing. Better to let them work off their steam here. They deserve it for risking their lives."

I almost gag at the thought. Risking one's life does not give one the right to cause humiliations to another's life. A good act does not justify a bad. But I must ask about something else.

"Healing? What sort of injuries did your people suffer?"

"Cuts and bruises can heal by themselves easily enough. But concussions, fractures, broken arms… those aren't so easy. By the gods, one time a man had a broken bottle buried in his eye socket."

"In… his eye socket?"

"Yes. It was like one of those… what do you call them, the spectacles but for one eye only."

"A monocle."

"Yes, like that. His eye was unharmed, but he couldn't see shit, cause his eye socket was completely enclosed by the glass bottle. Guy was lucky to make it out of it without losing the eye. Still has a scar, in fact."

"He was fine! Besides, chicks dig scars! And I said sorry, didn't I? What more do you want?" The man next to me shoots off these sentences almost as if he's the one who did such a thing.

Wait a second?

"Igvarge, not no."

"Yeah…"

"The way you tell it, and the way I see it, adventurers are little better than criminals."

"We're mercenaries! Not criminals! Watch your tongue before I show you the difference!" The man next to me practically shouts in my ear. The sheer amount of disrespect catches me off guard and I fail to form a response.

"Settle down there, Igvarge. She clearly didn't mean it. Can't you see she's a foreigner by her accent?"

What accent?

"Don't you tell me to settle down, Geren! I'm mithril-rank! Mithril! You know what that means!? It means I had to climb through five whole ranks, fighting monsters and climbing through mud, to keep this city safe, so that rich bitches like her can eat fish kebabs in peace!" So that's what they're called! Fish kebabs! How interesting.

"So, Igvarge. Right? I apologize for calling you a criminal."

The expression on his ugly rat face is that of confusion, as if he didn't expect someone to apologize.

"Clearly, you are no criminal. You are a brand of creature far lower than one. In fact, I'd say you're more closely compared to a mindless monkey, flinging his own feces at whoever he sees."
"Why you little!" He shouts and gets up from his seat, intent on violence. But before he could do so, within a blink of the eye, I maneuvered behind him, grabbed and smashed his head into the counter, cracking his temple. I was extremely gentle, as I could have easily crushed his skull like a grape if I wished for it.

The sound of skull hitting wood can be heard across the entire tavern, and this sound causes all others to cease. No more drinking, singing, carousing, dancing, or any forms of revelry.

All eyes have turned toward me, Geren the barman, and Igvarge the ratman.

"How'd you- He's mithril!" The barman can barely believe it.

'You guys see that?"

"I didn't see shit! It was too fast!"

"I think I see blood!"

"Never liked that bastard."

"Who the hell is that in the cloak?"

"About damn time."

"Finally, some fun!"

These are all the various responses of the 'people' inside the tavern, who can scarcely believe what they are seeing. Who is this who can so effortlessly defeat one of these 'strong' adventurers? Little do the fools know what that word means.

"You are a strong one, are you not?" I ask.

"Hey calm down now there's no reason to- The barman begins to talk, but I turn toward him and silence him with a glare, and as my eyes flared like golden fire he wisely realized the best thing he could do was be quiet.

The maggot squirming within my grasp has no answer, so I press him against the wood just a tiny bit more. I can hear it creaking, and his cries of pain grow louder until he begins to scream.

I relent of the pressure and give him time to answer.

He does not. Perhaps he is thinking of how to answer? Perhaps there is no one home? Or perhaps he needs more motivation?

"Answer me!" I shout in his face.

"N-no! No, I'm weak!" He lies.

"Oh? You're weak? You think you're weak? Why are you lying to me?"

"I'm- I'm not lying! I swear!" He strains out with ragged breath, saliva dripping from his mouth.

"I think you're lying. I think you believe you're strong. And you believe your strength gives you justification to do what you want, to use others as stepping stones for your goals, and to treat those weaker than you like garbage. It's a common enough pattern. Am I wrong?"

He processes the question for a while before wisely answering with a loud "No! No! You're absolutely right!"

"Indeed I am. Why else would you nearly take a man's eye who was simply trying to provide food for his family? Why else would you so willingly cause chaos? Why else would you so brazenly attack someone you knew nothing about, for simply saying a thing you didn't like, during your first encounter?"

He remains silent.

"I'll tell you why. Because you're diseased. You're disgusting. Evil is your father, and destruction is your mother. You and all those like you, those you call friends. You are, all of you, down to the last not only incapable of good, you are utterly blind to it, and cannot but help to hate it should you accidentally see it. As a matter of fact, I have been in this tavern for less than an hour and I've already seen at least a dozen attempts at sexual harassment against these poor women who are simply trying to earn a living. It makes me wonder, how many of you who do these things day after day, you who dare to call yourselves heroes of humanity and defenders of the weak, have crossed that invisible line leading to full blown rape, and at the same time justified yourselves by claiming it is a 'right' that you simply claimed, and thus no crime at all?"

The air is silent. No one answers. A few of them, at least those who were less open about their perversions, or those who are less wicked and more cowardly and went along with the flow, are clearly considering my words. I see that two of them, perhaps this man's friends, have drawn their swords and are considering moving on me. They are held back, one of them by hesitating on his own, whether it be from my own words, his lack of knowledge of my abilities, or his fear that his comrade may die if he does move. The other is held back by a much stronger and taller comrade. Division, even here.

Evil destroys itself eventually, cannibalizes itself. It is unavoidable. One thinks to defend his evil brother, so they may do more evil together, the other thinks to abandon him so as to not share the same fate.

"Looks like there is a lesson you have forgotten. All mortal lives expire eventually. You grow old, wither, and die. Your time is brief, and yet instead of using it to uplift yourselves and work together, you waste it on this… degeneracy. Walking the path of destruction with filled bellies and closed eyes. Well then, if you will not use your eyes, if you do not care to recognize good or evil, then you have no need for eyes anymore." I say, and after a second of processing, he opens his eyes widely, and begins to struggle.

But by that point, it is too late. With my other arm, I grab the two wooden sticks, and shove them into his pupils, one eye after the other. Upon the beginning of the wretched man's blood-curdling screams and convulsions of pain, countless adventurers have moved from their spots, weapons ready to attack and kill me on the spot.

Yet, they are already too late. Within the blink of an eye, I am gone.

AN: This concludes the E-Rantel arc. From now on chapters will no longer be daily but will be posted every other day for a while. Hope you guys enjoyed it.

 

[BenMalek]

Campfire Tales​

The sun has risen, and it has been a full day since I stepped into E-Rantel. I learned a bit about this land and its people, and helped correct some injustices. Now it was time to move on to Baharuth.

For this reason, I booked a trip to Baharuth with a merchant caravan proceeding from E-Rantel. The meeting place is outside the outermost walls of E-Rantel. This caravan reportedly makes journeys to Baharuth and back quite often. Trade is the lifeblood of E-Rantel, and the rivers cut from north to the south, meaning that if one wishes to trade with the east, they have to go by land. As for the carriages themselves, they're filled up quite nicely. They're carrying cloth, salt, wool and raw copper.

There are three carriages being pulled by well-fed and well-groomed horses. I can also see a plethora of people, being divided into drivers, passengers and a few guards. The head of the caravan is a middle-aged merchant, who is sporting a nicely trimmed black bear, wavy black hair, tanned skin and green eyes. He is dressed in colorful clothing of green and blue, and he is wearing leather boots of fine quality. Also he is sporting a dark gray half-cloak and he's wearing an amusing little cap on his head with a feather sticking out of it. All in all, the combination of colors, coin pouches, cloak and rings is all for one purpose: to show off his wealth.

A colorful character with an interesting sense of clothing, and he is stereotypically jovial and smooth-talking, like all good merchants.

"Hail and well met!" He salutes me when he sees me walking toward the caravan. "You are just on time! Did you sleep well?"

"I'm rested, if that's what you're asking." I reply as I take in the sight of a boy nearing manhood feeding some apples to a horse.

"Good, good." He smiles and then claps his hands. "Now, come, let me show you who you'll be sharing a cart with." He leads me to a bunch of strange characters.

There's a chestnut haired woman with a young boy sitting on her lap, who looks like a miniature copy of her from the face to the hair to the eyes. They are dressed modestly, not as colorful as a merchant or as gaudy as a noble, but still with a bit more affluence than the peasants I saw in E-Rantel. The woman has a relaxed look on her face, as the boy within her arms is gently napping.

There's also a man, a bit older than the woman, but not by much, and he is dressed in warrior's attire. A brigandine armor set, steel greatsword, big muscles, the whole set. There's a neutral expression on his face. He is neither worried nor excited. Must be a common fare for him.

And last off, there are two young folk, barely out of adolescence, a boy and a girl. I can tell instantly by the lovey dovey look on their faces, the closeness they exhibit, the way they whisper to each other, that they're a couple. Blonde hair both of them have, and their faces are plain, much like one would find on any peasant, but despite that they're still charming in their own childish puppy-dog love sort of way. The boy is lanky, and the girl is almost as thin and tall as he is. Within her hands one can see a wooden staff, which contrasts the sword and shield that her lover carries. Though in his case, the sword is sheathed and the shield is upon his back. Nonetheless, the boy's armor is patchwork and rough, not fit to stop a slingshot, and the girl is wearing robes, but they don't seem to be of quality make.

Survival rates for these people based on my first impressions? If bandits were to attack, no one besides the man with the greatsword would really be able to do much. The rest would be sitting ducks, waiting to be cooked.

The head merchant, or merchant lord, whatever he may be called, begins to point out all the characters.

"Here you have Gotze. He's the guy with the big sword. He doesn't talk much, but he's reliable and doesn't cause any trouble."

The man grunts, which serves as a greeting. I simply nod in return. Quiet people are easy to deal with, so it's nice that at least one person won't talk my ear off.

"He's been traveling with me for years now, and I've seen him cut down bandits, beasts, and undead without issue. Rest assured, with him guarding you, you'll be as safe as possible." I feel so assured. I'm sure he will definitely rush to my aid against all the scary wolves and skeletons.

Then the merchant points towards the woman and her son. "This is Leyla and her son Mern. These two fine folk are good friends of mine. They're traveling to Arwintar, same as us. I'm sure you'll get along swimmingly with them, just keep any sweets you may be carrying away from the boy." He whispers that last bit in my ear while looking at the boy and his mother. It's meant to be taken as a joke, I think. As a greeting, the mother offers me nothing but a smile, and I lift my hand up in return. I don't wish to speak so that the boy does not awaken. Better that he sleep what little he can now before he bothers me later.

"And lastly, you have the young lovebirds, Megera and Hector. It's my first time traveling with them, so you should have something in common." Not much else to say about them? I suppose that's fine.

"Hello!" and "Hey there!" resound from both their mouths. They are a cheerful lot.

"Greetings. You can call me Daya." I respond to them. Now that the greetings are done, I climb up the carriage, find a place to sit, plop my bag near my feet, take out a book and begin to read to pass the time.

---

The journey proved itself… dull. But we moved swiftly. At various times when I got bored I tried walking instead of sitting in the carriage where I couldn't see anything. The countryside was much the same, beautiful, green, but overall nothing breathtaking or something you couldn't see in other places on this earth.

We took a steady pace, and by the merchant lord's projections, it'd take no more than a week to reach Arwintar. He also stated that we would pass through a city on the way, but we would not linger.

I found myself asking the merchants, and not just the one in charge of the whole caravan, about their goods and where they were sourced from, where they'd come from, how life was as a merchant, what sort of threats they'd lived through, what sorts of challenges they had to deal with on a day to day basis.

The information served to solidify my knowledge that Re-Estize is a rathole. The country produces grain, and quite a bit of it, yes, but the quantity is unstable. Sometimes some fool noble tries growing cash crops, and fails, and that leads to price hikes, which is often the next year followed by people planting too much wheat, which is followed by a price drop. The merchants have adapted to this and export grain when there is excess. Furthermore, there are some mines in the mountains to the north and the south and southwest that produce copper, tin, and iron, and these come in useful for Re-Estize. However, copper and tin, while it can be useful for a variety of things, were mainly combined to form bronze weapons, which Re-Estize has long since outgrown. Thus, since these metals are not so useful when it comes to making weapons of war compared to steel, the excess copper is either bought by the Magician's Guild in Re-Estize or exported to Baharuth, where they have some sort of national magic academy that uses copper for their experiments. The mines and the seas also produce salt, which is useful for Baharuth, as they are more prosperous than Re-Estize and use more salt, while having fewer mountains and a smaller coastline, leading to them importing salt from Re-Estize. It's interesting how tightly the economy is wound together even in these warring states.

One of the merchants, a man in his 30s, a relative of the merchant lord, a nephew I believe, mentioned how Baharuth and Re-Estize were once one singular nation, but split two centuries ago, and have been feuding ever since. Each nation claims the other to be nothing more than mere rebels and pretenders. Each nation has more in common with each other than they might care to admit.

Like this, my day was spent. I filled my leather canteen with water from the tiny rivers we passed by and munched on dried meat and bread. I even pretended to take a small nap during which I let my mind wander. All of this to better sell the illusion that I was a regular old human.

An illusion that was nearly threatened by an innocent question by a nosy youngster.

Come nighttime, we had lit several fires and gathered together around it, to roast meat and drink and rest and tell stories.

The warrior Gotze was to the side, practicing his swordcraft alongside another man younger than him that was eagerly taking to his lessons. They had been at it for a while, and based off the grunts of exertion from the younger man, soon the training would finish.

As for the mother and son combination, they were not close by. The woman and her son were away and talking with the merchant leader. Thus, at the fire it was me, the two youngsters, and another man whose name I did not know, who was eating a boiled egg, standing off to the side. Once the man ate his egg, he left to go take a leak as he said it, and he did not return to the fire, but loitered around the camp. The fire was actually lit by the young woman with the staff, who used a spell called [Kindle] to light it. A spell I did not know of, and thus it drew my curiosity.

"That spell you used to light the fire. You called it [Kindle], right? I have not heard of it." I asked the girl. I believe her name was Megera.

"Oh? Yeah? Right. It's nothing. I mean, it's a lifestyle spell." She responded. I noticed she has the disposition of a doe, and sometimes stumbles in her words.

"A lifestyle spell? What does that mean?" I asked her again.

"Hmm, I guess… that means it's a spell that's not very complex, but useful in day to day life? That's the best way I can put it." She responded to me, but it wasn't really a satisfactory answer. Luckily her sweetheart Hector felt compelled to expand upon her answer.

"Lifestyle spells are used to warm food and water, cool it, make water, make salt, light up small fires. Just things that generally make your life easier. There's magic casters that can tell you a bit more about them."

Such spells did not exist in Yggdrasil, if I recall correctly. While fires could be lit, there weren't any dedicated spells for lighting a small campfire. From what I know, that action could be done by using items for the express purpose of starting a fire, or more commonly, using fire magic or fire-enchanted weapons to simply attack the logs until they lit up.

"Hmm. Interesting. Do you specialize in such spells? Where did you learn them?" The vermin from the Sunlight Scripture also proved capable of casting spells, even if it's to a laughable degree. It makes me wonder, are Yggdrasil and this world linked somehow, that the natives here are able to use magic from Yggdrasil, or is it simply a pale imitation?

"Me? From a book. My grandpa was a powerful magic caster, or so my ma used to say. He had all sorts of books about magic. He died when I was little, and I started reading some of the books he left behind in an effort to teach myself magic."

"As you can see, it clearly worked. My love here is already a 2nd tier magic caster. I'm sure that in no time at all she'll surpass her grandfather."

This is just sad actually.

"Is… 3rd tier magic considered impressive?"

"Well, of course! Most people can't even cast a single spell! It takes a ton of effort to cast magic from the 1st tier, and there's very few people who can do so. And of those, a small number reach the 2nd tier, and an even smaller number the 3rd, and so on."

"Personally, I never trusted magic." A charcoal colored voice belonging to Gotze the warrior makes itself heard. At some point during the conversation he had stopped his spar with the other man and moved closer toward us. Once he spoke, all our eyes turned on him. He sat down on a log and made himself comfortable while we waited for him to continue. "Takes too long to say the words. By the time someone says 'Magic Missile' and hits someone with it, they can get cut in half. A single spell can't kill someone, but a single strike of a sword can. And don't get me started on mana issues."

Interesting opinion. Wrong, obviously, but interesting.

"So, magic is useless in your eyes?" I asked him. I genuinely wanted the opinion of this man. Not because it was accurate, but because it would be valuable to know the workings of an inferior mind, if only to better understand it.

"Nah, just not good in combat. Good for healing, good for buffs before battle, good for making life easier in general. But for actually fighting people? Nah. Gimme a sword any day of the week." He responded and took out a canteen that smelled of wine before pouring it down his throat.

I hoped to refute this man, but before I was able to, Megera suddenly shouted, nearly leaping into the air. She was only held back by Hector's arm being a rope tying her to the ground.

"You're wrong!"

"Megera…" Hector tried to gently restrain her from embarrassing herself, but it was to no avail.

"No! He's wrong! He doesn't know a thing about magic!" The girl continued to speak way louder than she was supposed to, and I felt compelled to smack her, but I chose to use my words instead.

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, he's a warrior, so how could he know?" She responded to my question with another question.

"Maybe he has experience? Working with and against magic casters? He clearly has more years than you, so he has probably seen more than you. Maybe you ought to take that into consideration, even if he's biased."

I saw a fire of reason and logic light up behind her eyes, as she processed for the first time in her rather short life so far, that she does not in fact know everything. Teens.

Gotze was remarkably calm for a musclebound warrior. He pointed his thumb at me while looking straight at Megera. "She's right, to an extent. I may not know all the fancy things magic casters do to cast a spell, but I do know this." He said as he leaned forward with a grim look in his eye. "When the going gets tough and there's blood and screams everywhere, the magic casters crack under pressure. Every time. They run away, or try to use some new spell and blow themselves up, or get taken out by an arrow to the rib because they don't have any actual armor. "

Grim.

"But… My grandfather wrote in his books about how he explored ruins and dungeons and fought monsters. He used spells like [Fireball] and [Lightning] and killed scores of monsters. He was a great adventurer!"

"Was he now? Is that what you're going to be?" Gotze asked her with a tone of voice that spoke of how he was chiding a child.

"Well- Megera tried to retort, but it was to no avail.

"Save it kid. I've lost count of how many I've seen die thinking their newest fancy spell made them invincible. It never does. Find yourself another source of income." Then he turned toward Hector, Megera's awfully quiet boyfriend. "And you, if you love her, you'll make sure she does nothing stupid."

The lad took the words in stride and scratched his hair for a second before responding.

"Well… you see, that's actually what we're doing on this journey. We're going to head to Arwintar so that Megera can apply in the magic academy over there. We hope that once she gets accepted she can study there and learn how to use magic to make a living, and in the meantime I'll help support her."

Gotze's facial expression softened and he scuffed the dirt with his boot. "Is that so? Well shit, my bad then."

"So… Gotze, you were a warrior, or an adventurer of some kind? I would've never guessed." I asked him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He raised an eyebrow in a manner that was so funny I nearly broke into laughter, but I restrained myself.

"Just last night I had an encounter with some adventurers that left a rather bad taste in my mouth. It soured my opinion on the whole profession, if I'm being honest."

He nodded a bit and scratched at his stubble.

"Yeah, adventurers can be whoresons, especially those that move up the ranks. You don't gotta tell me twice. I know 'em. I walked with 'em, talked with 'em, killed with 'em and bled with 'em for 20 years. Even reached Platinum rank."

That would make him what, close to 40? A decent age for a man in such a world.

"You were an adventurer for 20 years? What made you give it up?" Hector asked Gotze.

He looked up toward the sky. What was he looking for up there? The stars? They shine bright, it is true, but he will never get there. And though I can, I cannot take him with me. Is it perhaps man's nature to look up at the stars in wonder, because he knows he cannot claim them? Man wants what he cannot have because he knows it is forbidden. It is his great tragedy.

"It's all so pointless. They go kill monsters, spend the money whoring and drinking, then when they're broke they go kill monsters to afford more whoring and drinking, and they repeat this until they die. It's just… a closed circle. Like a dog chasing its own tail."

"So you're a caravan guard now? What's it like?" Megera also decided to speak up. Whatever emotions she felt must not have been too negative for her to speak up.

Gotze picked up a stick and drew nonsensical shapes in the dirt with it while speaking. "Boring. Peaceful. Sometimes you fight wolves or bandits that are too big for their own breeches, but most of the time nothing happens. You get to meet new people and travel places."

"You're content?" I asked him.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I guess. There's worse fates." Then he threw the stick away into the darkness. I followed its trajectory and I could see a pair of glowing eyes in the bushes far away, probably belonging to a wolf observing us. I could see the wolf from here perfectly, as darkness is no impediment to my sight, and my eyes are doubtlessly sharper than a mortal man's. But those next to me could not see the wolf. Not that it would matter if they could. A lone wolf can never defeat a pack.
"You mentioned something about having a bad experience with adventurers? Did they hurt you? Is that why you cover your face?" Megera decided to ask after a moment of silence.

"Megera… you can't say such things." Hector chided her.

A chuckle escapes my lips.

"It's fine. Curiosity is no sin. I suppose I should be more specific. The adventurers were the ones that ended up having a bad experience. It'll be a lesson they won't soon forget."

Gotze nodded while the other two looked at me doubtfully.

"Right. I can see it. Cocky bastards sometimes bite off more than they can chew."

"But your face? You keep hiding it under that cloak. Are you hurt? We have a healer in the caravan. I think he can take a look!" She was still pressing.

"I'm not injured, I promise." I tried to comfort her, but she was not listening. It was getting on my nerves at this point.

"Then why won't you show it?"

"Megera, please leave her alone, if she doesn't want to show her face fully, that's fine. It's not our business to interfere." Hector tried to convince his girlfriend to keep her mouth shut.

I decided to simply speak the truth to get her to shut up.

"I'm not hurt sweet girl. I'm simply too beautiful for you to look upon without you falling to your knees, so I hide my face."

Silence.

"Bhahahaha!" Laughter erupted from her lips uncontrollably.

"Hahaha, you made me laugh." As it did from her boyfriend's.

"Hehehe, good one." And from Gotze's.

I found it funny. I told them the truth and they didn't believe it. They found it funny.

Will they find it funny or disbelievable on the day they see the armies of Nazarick going forth to conquer?

Will they remember this conversation? Will they even be alive at that time?

"Nah, but seriously, I'm curious as well, and I'm not pressing you, but why haven't you taken off your cloak this entire time?" Gotze asked after stifling his laughter.

"Can a man look at the sun in the sky without getting blinded?" I answered it with another question.

"Tsk. Fine then, keep your secrets. Just don't cause any problems."

"I won't cause any for you, can't promise not to cause problems for anyone else."

"That's all a man can ask for."

It was acceptable. Silence reigned among us, as nothing could be heard but crickets and the crackling of the fire.
It was still a bit too early to sleep for most of the caravan's members, but I did see a few turn in early, guards who would rotate their night time shifts.

Gotze was still staring at the fire I saw, and Megera had adopted a comfortable pose with Hector's shoulder serving as a pillow.

As for Hector, he seemed tense and lost in thought.

"What troubles you?" I asked him.

My words seemed to spook him as he nearly panicked, unsure of what to do. After looking at his girlfriend and back to me and back to her, he slowly managed to disentangle himself from her, while making sure she remained asleep. He laid her head upon a wrapped cloak and she was lying in an awkward sideways position on the log. It could not be comfortable, and she would wake up soon. Nonetheless, he managed to get up and he gestured for me and Gotze to follow him a ways off.

I did so, and so did Gotze.

"It's… well, I'm having… I don't know, I can't explain it."

"Try using words." Gotze says to him. Helpful.

The boy takes a deep breath. "Right. Suppose Megera gets accepted into the magic academy in Baharuth. She's going to progress, and I'm going to get stuck being just a regular old guy with a pointy stick, trying to make a living. I may make it as a guard and climb the ranks or as an adventurer or worker, or I may fail. What if she outgrows me and leaves me?"

I responded to his question with another question. "What if she does not get accepted into the academy? Have you considered that outcome?"

"Well… yeah, but- He tries to stammer and tapdance, but Gotze interrupts him.

"They haven't. Of course they haven't. They're just dumb kids."

Hector hangs his head down in shame and barely manages a whimper. "...we haven't."

Gotze wasn't having it. He began to lay into the boy with questions, and each time the boy answered, Gotze would ask another question. "Don't you think you should have thought about those things before you decided to travel to Baharuth?"

"Yeah, but even then, we couldn't stay in Re-Estize."

"Why?"

"We just couldn't, okay? Sorry, but I can't say why."

"Fine then, don't say. What I don't understand is what you expect us to do?"

"Well… maybe you can help me while we're traveling?"

Gotze scoffed. "Help? Help how? I ain't giving you money kid, if that's what you're asking."

With eyes full of hope like a puppy, the boy looked up at us and tried to plead his case. "Maybe you can help me practice? You were a Platinum adventurer, so you're probably pretty good, right?"

Gotze scratched the back of his head before exhaling loudly. "Hmph. Fine, I suppose we can spar. But it'll have to be tomorrow, not tonight."

"Thanks Gotze." Hector said before he turned to me. "And you, Daya, you said your name was, right? Do you know how to fight?"

Bit of an understatement. It caused me to chuckle.

"One could say that."

"Are you a warrior, or a rogue? You didn't say exactly what your specialty is."

"I actually specialize in Divine Magic, but it's not the only thing I can do. I can fight quite well in melee."

"Whoa! So you're like a paladin? Have you killed undead? Why didn't you say so before? What god do you worship? Is that why you don't show your face? Is it because of an oath?" The kid began to rattle off questions one after another like a rapid-fire crossbow. It was vexing.

I raised up my hand in the air in a gesture anyone would understand as 'Be quiet'.

"Quiet down kid. I have no reason to answer any of your questions. You want help sparring? Gotze will help you."

The kid nodded in affirmation, but persisted with his pestering. "Right! Sorry, but maybe you can help Megera?"

"Help her get better at magic? She's a 2nd tier caster. It's better for her to learn from a wizard or something, someone who follows the same path as her. It'll be the best thing for her." I don't think I even could help her. And even if I could, it'd take time and effort that I can't expel at the moment.

My words caused the boy to deflate like a popped balloon.

"Oh, okay. Yeah, that makes sense. Uh… Gotze, I'll see you tomorrow. We'll practice, okay!" The kid said, almost trying to convince himself of what he was saying.

Gotze just smiled and nodded at him. "Yeah kid, whatever you say."

"Right, yeah, good! Anyways, I'm gonna go to sleep now. Talk to you guys tomorrow." The young blonde-haired man said and began to leave. Once he was far away enough that we judged that he had left, Gotze began to speak again.

"He'll find nothing but disappointment in Baharuth. I can see it." I sensed no optimism from him.

"Perhaps the trials he faces there will kill the boy and let the man take the stage." I responded.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps it might just kill the boy and the girl both."

"Who can say?"

"I can. Seen it happen before. See it happening now. Gonna see it happen again. This world runs on a simple rule. Might makes right. And those two, they got no might to speak of." He declared.

I had to admit, he was right.

"I don't disagree. I do plan on visiting the magic academy there myself, but for other reasons. I'll be able to witness first hand if the girl's dreams of becoming a mighty magic caster crumble to nothing, or if her hope is not misplaced."

He turned his head sideward toward me and asked a question.

"You plan to help her?"

I turned to my left and saw the eyes of the wolf staring at me from the shrubbery.

"No."

 

[BenMalek]

Volčica i njeni žrtvi​

Traveling via caravan proved to be incredibly dull. And incredibly slow. A mere three days after leaving E-Rantel, we arrived in a city called Semnan, which is a moderately sized city, roughly half of E-Rantel's size and population. Apparently, it is a popular pit stop on the road to Arwintar.

It was here that I decided I had had enough of the caravan.

The constant creaking of the carriage wheels. The constant chatter and noises of prattling children, the constant questions from curious kids asking the same old questions, the constant grunts and noises of exertion from pathetic mortals trying to train up some sort of strength despite it all amounting to less than nothing at the end of the day. The constant pestering for magical lessons or sparring from the deluded couple. The only one worthy of respect was the guardsman Gotze, and he earned that respect by doing what these others could not. Keeping silent and not saying anything unless he actually had something to say.

Spewing words forth from one's mouth like a torrential river does not make one worthy of being heard. It only makes their words less worthy. The more of something there is, the less valuable it is. Is it any surprise that when comparing a man who speaks few words, and a man who speaks many, the one who speaks few words is regarded as having more weight to his speech?

But I digress.

I had neither the time nor the patience to travel all the way to Arwintar via this carriage, when I could likely get there before the sun rose by myself.

"I shall get off here. Do not wait for me tomorrow." I told the head merchant who was in the middle of a conversation. He was speaking to a guard about gossip or news going on in the city. I didn't really care which.

He turned around and fiddled with his beard. "You're leaving? I thought you were heading to Arwintar. You did pay for the full trip, if I remember correctly."

"You do remember correctly. Nevertheless, I will leave you here." I responded.

He shrugged, before extending a hand to me. "In that case, I wish you safe travels and farewell. May we meet again."

One handshake and goodbye later, I had slipped away from the caravan and made my way out of sight of the caravan and slipped out of the walls.

From there, I made my way to a small hill overlooking the city, where I could ensure there were no bystanders or onlookers.

Once there, it was time to finally let loose. I took off my cloak, unfurled my wings, and took flight through the night sky toward Arwintar.

---

Flying is fun. The wind blowing through my hair, the beauty offered by the contrast of the heavens and the earth, the birds-eye view of the landscape. So many little lights, shining like silver from the sky and the pale-gold like light from the few fires I could see in my field of view, combined with the majestic radiance of the moon was breathtaking. The view was beautiful during the night, and I imagine it was just as beautiful during the day. I cannot wait for the day to come when I can move as I please when I please, but it's not yet here.

The pure feeling of freedom I'm enjoying now, being untethered from all earthly complaints and worries, is something I think those below me cannot imagine. It is sad in a way.

Born confused, scurrying from one task to the next, struggling to survive all the while in a world that seeks to end them at every misstep, and not even being able to trust those like you, and the reward for it all is war, plague, and death. It's actually tragic.

Man's existence is tragic. It's all he's ever known.

But does it have to be that way?

I do not know.

I do know this, however. The hour is coming soon when I will meet that 'Bloody Emperor' and his lackey Fluder, these architects of so much pain and suffering in E-Rantel, and see whether or not there is any grace in their hearts.

---

The trip from Semnan to Arwintar is by carriage, assuming one travels anywhere between 10 or 12 hours per day, and regularly has stops and rests by night, would take 4 days. It took me a bit over an hour.

I do not know the exact distances(though I would in time) between these cities, nor do I have an accurate map, but if the distance is a few hundred kilometers, then that is a great distance passed in a short time.

Days by carriage. Hours by wings. At the speed of thought by teleportation magic.

Just based on this simple fact I already know that Nazarick will roll over all opposition that bases its strength on pure numbers. What aid will it be to any armies that gather if you can go and sack their city, and move on to the next before they formulate a response? Even if outnumbered, a million to one, victory is inevitable, if a bit slow.

As a matter of fact, I am quite certain that if Lord Ainz were to unleash a Floor Guardian, they could destroy a kingdom in a week.

Conquest is another thing though. One kingdom is not like another.

This much is obvious to me.

Baharuth has flying knights. How about that? Who could have expected that?

I can see them all the way from here. Knights mounted on flying griffins, at least those look like griffins. There's about a dozen of them flying around what seems to be the Imperial Palace, which is situated within a hexagonal like star fort, deep in the center of an absolutely massive and sprawling city, with various monuments and massive constructions.

I am half tempted to summon a griffin of my own and unleash it on the flying guardsmen to show them what a griffin actually is, but that would be unconstructive.

Nevertheless, Arwintar looks…impressive from here.

I quickly cast a [Greater Invisibility] spell on myself to cloak myself from sight and approach the city closer and closer and take in the sight beneath me.

Even now, after dark, people are moving to and fro, busy busy busy like bees, shops are open as are taverns and inns, and the streets are all lit by lampstands. As of now I can see that there is far more light on the streets than in E-Rantel.

And speaking of the streets they are made of bricks and stones. It is quite fascinating. The sheer scale and cost of funding this project must have been quite high. I can even see different lanes where people can move about, either by horse or carriage, in only one direction. The architecture and layout of the city is quite advanced, compared to standards in E-Rantel. Raised sidewalks and fences bordering the streets are visible, clearly erected to ensure the safety of pedestrians. The public lighting, ever present, is probably due to magic, and implemented to ensure the safety of the city's populace during nighttime.

There are also many visible magnificent buildings, besides the palace. A massive colosseum, reminiscent of the one in the 6th floor, grand palaces of different make, what appears to be some kind of university, or perhaps the Imperial Academy for Magic as it's properly called(probably). I can also see the distinctive style of the nation's religion, visible in the Temple of the Four Gods, fashioned in a similar style to the temple in E-Rantel, and also visible are various guilds and offices.

Throughout the entire city, white stone is used for construction, and the bricks on the rooftops are mostly blue. It is a uniform color scheme, not at all out of sync, and it seems like the domes, the rooftops, the gardens, the walls, all of it combine to give this place a magnificent nature. It is obvious to the eye that the city was actually planned out to be one giant monument to the nation's might.

Magic casters, armed knights atop horses and lightly armored pikemen, and flying cavaliers, all serving as guards.

I am already much more impressed by this nation's security compared to E-Rantel. Against any regular force trying to invade, it would be terrifying, and I doubt someone regular could sneak into the city at will. Unfortunately for them however, there is a vast gulf in quality.

Now… which places to visit first?

---

That same night in E-Rantel…

Madness. Madness and stupidity. That was the best way to describe the events of the past few days. The world's gone mad.

The mayor of E-Rantel, Panasolei Gruze Day Rettenmaier, was not having a good time.

The recent raids in E-Rantel's territories, raids that he was not able to respond to due to the meddling of those traitors in the Noble faction, were the beginning. But as soon as that problem was fixed, new problems kept springing up.

In his personal life, his daughter was complaining that her husband had recently started using Black Dust, that despicable drug that left men dumb and destitute. According to her, it had only been 'small doses' just to help him relax, but he knew where that road led, and he knew sooner or later he'd either have to attend a funeral or schedule one, depending on his son-in-law's disposition.

There were also strange happenings in his home. Things getting moved from their place ever so slightly, powerful earthquakes happening in the middle of the day, and being felt only in his mansion and nowhere else in the city, his employees citing strange omens or signs from the gods.

A bar fight that left a Mithril class adventurer without both his eyes, a group of adventurers chastised and paralyzed, before the culprit mysteriously vanished in thin air.

The upcoming war with Baharuth that needed to be planned for, even now.

And who knows what else was going on? And that's without even mentioning his health issues.

He was stumped.

"This job is going to kill me." He thought to himself. No one truly appreciated him, besides the King that is. Loyal administrators that didn't rob the people blind were rarer than unicorns in the Kingdom of Re-Estize. People didn't understand just how much he did for them on a day to day basis.

The daily scheming, the politicking, the wrangling. Nobles, guild masters, adventurers… It was all so tiresome. He'd ask for something that would benefit the common man, and the first response he'd get is 'What's in it for me?'. How about I don't chop your head off!

If only. Sadly, he was only a mayor, appointed to E-Rantel, a member of the minor nobility. E-Rantel was not his personal fief, nor would it be any noble lord's fief. King Rampossa did that part well enough at least. The king knew that if a noble lord had power in E-Rantel the same way a noble lord would have power in the other regions of the nation, it would only be too easy for them to be compromised, and to swear fealty to the Bloody Emperor. If such an event were to happen, and E-Rantel were to throw its gates open to the legions of Baharuth knights, Re-Estize would be wide open for invasion. Its wide plains and fertile farmlands would do little to stop armies.

It was all too much. Just too many problems. He had capable cabinet members, but at the end of the day, he was just a man, mortal and flawed.

He needed a break.

Panasolei stood up, removing himself from the expensive leather chair, its wooden construction croaking under his massive weight. He got up and made his way to the window in his office, where he looked down upon E-Rantel, with the orange rays of the setting sun illuminating its many rooftops and walkways.

Everything seemed to be in order. There were no fires, no swarms of undead, no looting bandits or riots. Thus far, another successful day, despite it being filled with headaches and problems.

He had made it through it.

Now it was time for his post-work rituals. He would have a nice bath, a change of clothes, and then have a nice meal. Perhaps he should skip the meal part, but he did deserve a treat?

Choices, choices. All the same, the work for the day was done.

After his bath, Panasolei had to change his clothes, and it was only when he looked into the mirror and saw the man staring back at him that he felt convicted, and a deep sense of shame.

The mirror could speak only the truth, and he did not like what he saw.

His face was like that of an obese bulldog, and his skin was best described as a mass of bloated and fatty oil. His hairline was nonexistent, the white hair on his scalp was so thin and rare that it made his head shine like a lamp. He had hair across his body, across the front and back, where he did not need it, and lacked it where he did. He was a disgusting shadow of a man, with not even a touching point compared to his former handsome looks. Even his manhood escaped his gaze. He could not see it, from above, or from the reflection in the mirror. It was hidden under rolls of fat.

When did he become like this? Was it when he got married some 30 years ago? Was it when his wife died? Was it when his girl moved out and got married? Was it when he took this posting in E-Rantel?

It all blurred together, and he found himself being more and more frustrated with each passing second. And that's without even mentioning the pains he felt.

"I need a break. I need to get out of here."

He declared to himself, and swiftly proceeded to dress himself, lavishly as he was supposed to as a nobleman. Once he did so, he called upon his guards with a shout, and commanded them to ready the carriage, for he wished to travel toward the Magician's Guild to talk to the Guildmaster there, who would perhaps have some medicine or cure for his aches and pains. The priests were for this matter useless, as they usually were in most things. Any healing from a priest would serve to only temporarily numb the pain in his joints for just a few minutes before they appeared again.

Once he made it into his carriage, he and all his guards set out on the path toward the Magician's Guild.

The night was still and quiet, at least for a city like E-Rantel. There weren't any major happenings, and crime was quite low in this city, and these two factors combined with the general respect afforded to him by the populace ensured that he could travel in a carriage day or night to wherever he needed to go without fear. Be it with many guards, few, or none, Panasolei knew that he was safe in his city.

Unlike certain nobles who would likely be ambushed should they leave their estates without armed escort, for such was the hatred they cultivated in others by their gross injustice toward their people.

The carriage was proceeding smoothly, until all of a sudden it slowed down.

"What's going on?" Panasolei asked aloud, but no one responded. Feeling more than a bit enraged, he pushed the door open, his girth making his steps more than a bit unsure as he descended the stairs onto the cobblestone road.

He looked around, and saw various men, women and children, being amazed, pointing with their fingers and gasping loudly. He followed their gazes until he saw something he never expected to see.

What appeared to be a party of adventurers, all gathered around… a great and terrifying beast with fur white like snow. And atop the beast, mounted was a noble knight, clad all in black plate and armed with two greatswords on his back, and adorned with a crimson cape that fluttered in the wind behind him.

"What in the name of the gods is going on in this city…" He muttered, but no one paid attention to his words.

---

The streets of E-Rantel were lively as dusk approached, casting long shadows on the cobblestones. The Swords of Darkness, as well as Momon and his unnamed party that consisted of himself, Nabe and Lupu, were hailed as triumphant heroes by the populace.

Little did they know he felt like he would die of embarrassment. Man was not meant to ride giant hamsters.

The black-clad knight jumped off the hamster and petted it.

"That was a success, I would say." Momon stated.

Peter Mauk, the leader of the Swords of Darkness, a young handsome man with short blonde hair and an ever cheerful smile chuckled. "You can say that again. It went without a hitch. All thanks to you guys… In fact, I feel embarrassed taking money for this job. Feels like we didn't even do anything." He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly.

"You didn't." The ice-cold raven-haired jade beauty Nabe stated flatly.

"Nabe my dear, you're as beautiful as porcelain and just as cold! Why do you say such words, when they torture me inside!"

Lukrut Volve, the shaggy-haired ranger, protested in vain at Nabe's words. He had tried so much these past few days to get just a scrap of affection, but it was all in vain. If you had asked him, it was unfair that Momon adventured with two beauties and hogged them to himself, whereas he couldn't even get the attention of even one of them. Nabe had ignored and insulted him, and Lupu had straight up laughed.


"Lecherous lamprey, castrate yourself and save me the trouble." Nabe responded. Truly, she did not run out of insults.

Nabe's comment did several things. It caused Lupu to laugh, and it caused Lukrut to suffer even more emotional damage.

And as a bonus, Nabe also received some recompense in the form of a karate chop to the head, and the sound of Momon's armored gauntlet colliding with Nabe's skull caused Lupu to laugh even louder. This laugh however, was silenced, when Momon turned toward her, and she had no response to Momon's look of disappointment. "Cmooooooon… it was funny!" She pleaded, but received no response.


"We'll split up here." Momon declared. "I'll head with Nabe to the Adventurer's Guild to get Hamsuke registered. You guys can accompany Nfirea to his pharmacy so he can drop off his herbs and we can complete this quest."

"Sounds good." Dyne Woodwonder, a great bear of a man, a blonde-haired druid who seemed as likely to grow a flower as he was to eat a fish raw, replied affirmatively, speaking for the entire group.

"Oh, and Lupu, go with them and keep them company." Momon added on.

Lupu, who had taken on some sort of pose where she had been holding her clerical staff between her hands and pressed against the back of her neck in a classical position known as the 'shoulder yoke'.

Lupu looked like she wanted to protest Momon's command, but that hesitation lasted for little more than a moment, and she obeyed, sliding into formation alongside Nfirea and the Swords of Darkness. They were still 'working' as they were supposed to escort Nfirea from his pharmacy toward the Great Forest of Tob and back, so she supposed it made sense.

Nfirea Bareare, the young herbalist, led the group of adventurers towards his pharmacy, their pace brisk.

"Did you hear about that guy who lost both his eyes in a bar fight?" Dyne Woodwonder, the druid, asked, his voice filled with concern. "Do you think a powerful cleric like Lupu could heal him? I've tried to heal a man who lost his eye, but it didn't work. The wound needs to be fresh, but perhaps for someone like you that's no problem?"

Lupu glanced at Dyne with a serene smile. "Perhaaaps…" Her voice trailed off. "But it depends on the extent of the damage. Some wounds, even with the strongest healing magic, can be difficult to mend."

Peter Mauk, the leader of the Swords of Darkness, nodded thoughtfully. "It's good to know we have someone as skilled as you with us, Lupu."

"What tier of magic can you cast, Miss Lupu?" Ninya, the effeminate youth asked.

Lupu turned toward the boy, who was really a girl masquerading as a boy(something Lupu could pick up quite easily with her enhanced sense of smell), until their noses almost touched. "Higher than you." She smiled and leaned away.

With that non-answer serving as the de facto end to the conversation, the group resumed their walk in silence. They entered the pharmacy, and Peter noticed a strange expression on Lupu's face.

"Is something wrong, Lupu?" The warrior asked, his voice filled with concern.

"Nfirea, you share this pharmacy with your grandma, right?"

"Yes. Why?"

"You wouldn't happen to have any… younger people working with you? Perhaps a girlfriend or a cousin?"

He shook his head. "No? Why do you ask?"

She nodded slightly. "Just a feeling. Stay close."

Suddenly, a dagger flew from the shadows, its destination being Ninya's forehead. However, it was caught in mid air by Lupu.

"How rude." Lupu said before dropping the dagger. "You can come out now… your ambush has failed already, might as well give up, y'know?"

Two figures emerged from practically out of nowhere, having been concealed by shadows and shelves all the while. They were both cloaked, but couldn't be more different. One of them was a manic looking woman with golden hair cut short and blood red eyes that spoke of violence, and the other was a withered and bald old man that looked perpetually constipated.

"You failed, Clementine." The figure said in that raspy voice.

"Shut up Khajiit, you bald idiot. I'm in the middle of something, can't ya see that?!"

"Uhh… What's going on?" Nfirea asked from behind the buff body of Dyne Woodwonder, who would serve as a meatshield in these tight quarters.

His question was ignored.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Clementine sneered, pretending like the previous embarrassment never even happened. "A group of little adventurers playing heroes?"

Khajiit's voice was cold and calculating. "Hand over the boy, and we might let the rest of you live."

"Pfft… hahaha. Okay, that was a good one. Now seriously, who are you clowns?" Lupu asked. Her carefree demeanor unnerved the two intruders while the rest of the members of the Swords of Darkness were unsure of victory.

"For the last time. Give us the pharmacist." Khajiit declared, his beady black eyes narrowing.

Peter stepped forward, sword drawn. "We won't let you take him!"

Clementine's grin widened. "Oh, Big strong man, ready to die for his friends. This will be fun. What's your name, sweetie?"

Lupu twirled her staff in her hands slightly. "You won't be facing him, sadly. I am in a violent mood and you look like the perfect stress relief toy!"

"Oooh, I like you." Clementine replied, her tone dripping with equal parts joy and malice. "You're quite confident aren't you? So be it, I suppose I have time to play with you first."

Lupu giggled. "I've been told I have a certain charm. Now, are we going to chat all day, or do you want to get to the fun part?"

The battle erupted swiftly.

"[Summon Undead 3rd: Vampire Bats]!" Khajiit intoned, as his spell caused a swarm of bats to erupt out of nowhere and attack the Swords of Darkness. In the tight places, they caused much confusion. Peter charged the necromancer in an attempt to rush him against the wall, but Khajiit evaded the blow and shot out a [Shadow Bolt] which burned Peter and caused him to nearly collapse.

However, the leader of the Swords of Darkness' companions weren't idle, Dyne had taken to swatting the bats flying around with his mace, and Ninya had been using [Magic Arrow] to land guaranteed hits on them, with one charge of [Magic Arrow] being sufficient to down one bat. Sadly for them however, there were many bats. Even Nfirea had taken to participating in the battle. He was no warrior and had no courage, but when he saw the opportunity to aid, he took it, and his aid manifested in the form of defensive buffs applied on his teammates. He too was also having difficulty with the bats that pestered him so much.

In the meanwhile however, the ranger Lukrut had managed to establish a line of sight between himself and the necromancer. He knocked his bow with 3 arrows, and used the Martial Art [Triple Shot] to shoot 3 arrows at once. The necromancer Khajiit managed to evade 2 of them, though the last one hit his bicep.

The bald man's face frowned. "Tsk. [Chill Touch]." He said, as his next spell caused a floating spectral yet skeletal looking hand to appear and swipe at the ranger Lukrut. It clawed at his chest, and struck true. No flesh was rent as the spectral hand disappeared, but the ranger felt very much colder and very much closer to death after that spell.

"Lukrut!" Nfirea shouted, and rushed toward his companion in a desperate attempt to save his life. He tried using a potion to heal his wounds, but the potion he had access to was blue, far weaker than the red 'God's Blood' potions that Sir Momon had access to.

In the meanwhile, Lupu's fight against Clementine had dragged on. It seemed that neither of them were using their full strength.

"Oh, you're good," Clementine hissed, her eyes narrowing. "But not good enough."

Lupu laughed, her strikes becoming faster and more precise. "I could say the same about you. Why don't we see who's right?" She kicked Clementine away, before spinning the staff and stabbing it into the pharmacy's cold stone floor tiles. "[Holy Nova]!"

The spell by Lupu was a critical hit. Not only did it heal all her allies, but it evaporated the vampire bats and singed both Clementine and Khajiit to the point that they looked visibly disturbed by the amount of power exhibited by a single spell.

"What the…That's powerful magic! How are you capable of such a thing!?" Clementine shouted angrily, dusting herself off and jumping back on her feet.


"Teehee." Was Lupu's only response.

It infuriated both Clementine and Khajiit.

Khajiit, still singed and clearly wounded, retrieved a black orb from some hidden compartment within his robes, held it aloft and shouted. The orb pulsed and writhed with shadowy energies. "I'm done playing games with you fools! [Wave of Pain]!" Khajiit's spell produced what appeared to be a crimson colored wave of energy that went out from him and passed over all the members of the Swords of Darkness. Such was its power that it caused them all to collapse and begin to claw at their ears and their heads, and they rolled on the ground, agony overtaking every part of their bodies.

As this was happening, Clementine's movements became a blur as she activated her Martial Arts, enhancing her swiftness and power. She tried to leap off the wall, but all her moves were anticipated, as Lupu's staff met her mid-air. The impact sent her crashing to the ground, but she rolled and sprung back up, daggers poised.

Khajiit raised his staff and summoned a bunch of generic undead minions, skeletons armed with swords, useful in the cramped quarters. They didn't last long nor prove themselves useful. In the brief moment between Clementine managing to pick herself from the ground and resuming her attack, Lupu turned around and cast her own spell. Rings of golden light flew out from her staff, cutting through all the undead with ease, and one of them even managed to nearly behead Khajiit right then and there, though he ducked at the last moment and survived.

Clementine lunged yet with incredible speed, her daggers aimed for Lupu's exposed heart. It countered with another burst of the [Holy Nova] spell, the magic healing her allies and relieving some of their pain as the light seared Clementine's skin and forced her back. She screamed in pain, her eyes filled with fury.

"Why won't you die?" she snarled, all former vestiges of beauty having long since faded, blood and burns and bruises covering every bit of her body, activating another Martial Art to enhance her reflexes. It was in vain.

Lupu smiled, unfazed. "Because I'm having too much fun."

With a powerful swing, she crushed her collarbone, the rogue's eyes widening in shock and pain. She collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath.

"You… how…?"

Lupu leaned down, her amber colored eyes containing nothing but pure joy at Clementine's suffering, and her voice was playful yet cold. "Left you breathless, didn't I? Shh… don't worry, it happens."

Khajiit, seeing his efforts failing, began casting 'Dimensional Move', his desperation evident. But he never got the chance to even finish saying the words. Like a she-wolf lunging at her prey's neck, Lupu pounced on him, interrupting the spell. They rolled together, and in a swift and elegant move, she threw him headfirst against the wall. The impact was sickening, and Khajiit's bald head cracked like an egg, his lifeless body slumping to the ground.

The undead monstrosities crumbled without Khajiit's control, leaving the group in tense silence. Breathing heavily, I lowered my weapon, my eyes scanning the group.

"Is everyone alright?" Lupu asked her group. Slowly, and with more pain than they thought their bodies were capable of bearing, they all got up slowly.

Peter picked up his sword from the floor and proceeded to sheathe it. He nodded. "Thanks to you, Lupu. We wouldn't have made it without your help."

Nfirea stepped forward, gratitude and relief evident on his face. "Thank you, Lupu. You saved us all."

"Yeah… wonder what would've happened if we faced those two without backup." Ninya stated with evident fear in her voice.

"We'd be dead. That's what would have happened." Dyne Woodwonder, the druid, stated without sugarcoating it at all. In the close quarters, a large man with no finesse, wielding a clumsy weapon that needed space to be wielded properly, and without access to nature, he was out of his element, and couldn't exercise his full abilities.

Not that it mattered at the end of the day. The necromancer was dead, and the assassin woman…


"Is she dead?" The ranger Lukrut asked.

"Huh? Oh, you mean her?" Lupu replied, then turned around and looked at Clementine's battered and broken body. "Nah. She probably wishes she was dead though."

"Damn… I have no luck at all." Lukrut said. When no one asked him what he meant, he elaborated.

"I've met three hot chicks in the past three days. They're all hot, they're all stronger than me. One of them tried to kill me, and the other nearly killed her. It's like… where's the part where I rescue the damsel in distress? The stories aren't supposed to go like this, y'know?" He said, half-joking, half-serious, all broken in his soul.

All his companions save one stared at him before laughing openly.

"Idiot!" Peter laughed.

"That's what you're worrying about?" Nfirea commented.

"Airheaded fool…" Dyne added on while ruffling the young man's hair.

Lupu chuckled just as well. "Well… keep trying, I'm sure it'll work sometime this century!"

Ninya meanwhile, looked far more serious, and far more despondent.

"Guys… let's bring this woman back to the Guild. After that, I think I'm done with this whole adventurer thing…"

Lupu raised her eyebrow, before picking up Clementine from the floor like one would pick up a dirty rag. "Let's go then. Sir Momon will want to talk to us about what just happened."

The group, deadly serious now, nodded affirmatively. They all prepared to leave and go back to the Guild, when several thoughts crossed Nfirea's mind.

"How the hell am I going to pay for repairs? Why is Miss Lupu so strong? And what did that bald man want with me?"

 

[BenMalek]

Haraj-e Elysi​

The grandeur of the Grand Arena enveloped the roaring crowd, every seat filled with eager spectators awaiting the spectacle about to unfold, but I still had the best seat in the house. In the center of the arena, the mighty champion Go Gin, a giant by might and stature, undefeated, clad in ugly bronze-colored full plate armor that had him covered from head to toe and wielding a formidable and crude giant club, stood with an air of invincibility. Opposite him, a lesser-known challenger, a nameless warrior in light leather armor that would offer almost no protection against the obscenely sized metal club, nervously gripped a spear, his eyes darting around the imposing amphitheater.

As the tension mounted, the announcer's voice boomed across the arena, amplified by the acoustics of the ancient structure:

"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the grandest stage in all of Arwintar, nay, the grandest stage in the entire Empire! Today, we witness a clash of titans! Or rather, a clash of man against a titan! In this corner, the undefeated champion, the scourge of many foes, the master of the battlefield - Go Gin!"

The crowd erupted in thunderous applause and cheers, acknowledging the renowned warrior who had bested countless opponents in the past.

"And in this corner, a brave soul who dares to challenge the unbeatable! A man of courage and determination, ready to face the ultimate test in the sands of the Imperial Arena!"

The announcer's words were met with a mix of supportive murmurs and curious whispers from the audience, unsure of what to expect from the underdog who had stepped into the lion's den.

"Will Go Gin continue his reign of dominance, or will destiny favor the bold and the brave? Let the combat commence!"

With a dramatic flourish of his arm, the announcer signaled the start of the duel. The crowd's anticipation reached a crescendo as the combatants squared off, the roar of men expecting blood shed echoing through the ancient stone walls.

Personally, I felt that these people treated life like a game, and in every game, you eventually lose.

All the same…

The smaller combatant, who could simply be referred to as 'The man' muttered something, his lips moving barely seen beneath his half-helm, that could not be heard by man or woman in the Arena, for so loud was the noise of the crowd. However, when his body glowed, it was obvious what he had done. He had invoked a Martial Art, that magic of the warriors of old, meant to help him in this battle. To those experienced in combat, they would estimate that the warrior enhanced his speed, so that he might dart to and fro from his foe.

The spearman shot off quickly, his sandals kicking up dust in the air behind him. The giant Go Gin was eagerly awaiting his foe, who was rushing him. The spearman was trying to end the fight quickly, perhaps via a critical hit.

But it was unlikely. Against a heavily armored foe, blunt force is best, or wrestling your foe to the ground and then using something very sharp and pointy to stab at the weak points in the armor from close range, usually this would be a rondel dagger. This is the opinion of every knight in Baharuth, who were members of the single greatest heavy infantry corps across all human lands.

The giant Go Gin seemed to know this as well, as when the spearman closed rank and thrust his spear into Go Gin's kneecap, it simply 'clanged' and did no visible damage. The giant tried retaliating by kicking the man, but with a flip, the man jumped over the giant's kick.

The end result was that the giant was with his back turned while the man was trying to get up. Seeing an opportunity, the man tensed up, readying himself to pounce. However, the man hesitated at the last moment.

This was a wise move, as Go Gin had followed up the kick by spinning counterclockwise, completing a full rotation, with his face turned toward his opponent while his giant arm was aiming that club of his right at his opponent, or rather where his opponent would have been had he taken the bait.

The man jumped back, and took a moment to compose himself. There was a brief pause in the fighting. The calm before the storm, if you will, but it was clear to all this was still the probing stage, the warm-up. The man had to play it perfectly, to wear out his opponent and poke and prod him, and he could afford no mistake, whereas a single errant blow would do devastating damage, perhaps killing him outright if it struck true.

What compelled this man to come to this place and risk his life before strangers that would praise him today and forget him tomorrow?

In the early morning light, the Grand Arena was glistening like a gem from the sunlight. But the match never took place early in the morning. It took time for people to travel to the Arena, to buy tickets, to buy food, to have a pre-match conversation with their friends and acquaintances, to bet on the winners and losers and if a soul would leave their mortal coil that day. The citizens of Arwintar would do all this, then they would take their seats and prepare for the spectacle.

This occurred every three to four days during the 'season of blood' which lasted for roughly three months before the annual declaration of war by the Emperor on Re-Estize. After the war was done, there would be a roughly three month long break in Arena festivities, before the schedule shifted to one day of spectacle every week. This would continue until the snows came,where there was a break again of one month, then the spectacle would begin again, once a week, and would continue until summer.

A full schedule, week for week, month for month, year for year, of blood and sand, all for the entertainment of the plebs, and the enrichment of the patricians.

Granted, not every day in the Arena was a simple one vs one fight. Sometimes one man, an established champion, would face many, sometimes it would be two massive teams brawling against each other in a giant melee. Other times there were series of duels, in a knock-out format, like a tournament, and there were also free-for-alls in which the last-man-standing took the grand prize.

But more than that, there were even days when in the Arena ancient battles were recreated, with the historical winners vs the historical losers, divided into teams. Sometimes these fights would be man vs man, sometimes man vs beast, sometimes man vs monsters. Beasts and monsters would be captured from the fringes of the Empire and brought to Arwintar for the express purpose of dying for man's amusement.

But it was not all blood. Sometimes there were theatrical plays and chariot races, which tended to have far less blood. Not no blood, simply far less.

The Grand Arena was like a stomach constantly devouring, so never-ending was its greed and gluttony. Men, beasts, gold, steel, paper, it didn't discriminate.


To many citizens it was the highlight of their day, yet to many it was also something egal. They had better worries. Yet the population of Arwintar was so massive that the Arena was almost always packed.

Earlier this morning, all throughout the streets of the city, numerous criers were promoting the match in the Arena. They cited it as a 'great spectacle' and that every red-blooded citizen should endeavor to watch the mighty Go Gin at least once in their lives, but if they watch him once they will want to watch him again. This giant, this undefeated warrior, this freak of nature who was likely not human. This giant, who may be some alchemical freak of nature, or an overgrown beastman, or a troll, had the far greater odds of victory. If an observer mused that he could lift a grown horse with one hand, they would not be mistaken. They lavished heaps of praise on him, and many warriors and young boys idolized him.

And against him, stood a man. Who had no glory, no acclaim, no name. Just a spear.
The man started the fight, moving quickly, casting his net with precision, aiming to ensnare the giant and gain an advantage. Perhaps he hoped his mobility might be an advantage, or that he could trip the giant and pierce him with his spear while the giant was immobilized.

The net billowed through the air, but Go Gin sidestepped with surprising agility for his size, avoiding the entanglement.

So much for that tactic.

Nonetheless, the man was not discouraged. He rushed forward and began to strike yet again, knowing that he couldn't afford another mistake. He danced around Go Gin, probing for weaknesses, looking for any opening he could exploit. Each strike he made with his spear was a risk, as he opened himself up to a counterattack.

Seeing that his spear lacked penetrating power, he invoked another Martial Art, which caused his spear to glow with faint blue light.

Go Gin at one point let out a giant roar that made the very pillars of the Arena tremble, and made the man paralyzed with fear. The giant used the fact that the man finally stopped leaping from place to place to swing his club in a giant downward arc, but at the last moment, the man rolled to the side toward his net, and in a fluid motion, picked it up and threw it at the giant's face, obscuring his vision. Then, he attacked.

The next time he tried to pierce Go Gin, he succeeded, and managed to lodge his spear behind the giant's knee, but the man's victory was short lived. Neither scream nor shout could be heard from the giant, and it seemed based on the giant's lack of reaction, it would take a thousand more of these thrusts to his limbs to end the beast.

In the brief second the man spent to dislodge the spear from Go Gin's body, he made a miscalculation about how fast the giant was. That move to retrieve his weapon simply opened himself up to being smacked by the armored giant's mailed fist, which sent him flying several feet backwards.

Worst of all, the spear had remained lodged in the giant's body.

The crowd reacted to both spear and fist with loud approval.

After a few seconds passed, the man came to his senses yet again, and quickly stood up. His legs were shaking, his eyesight was dizzy, his ears were ringing, his hands were sweaty and he had difficulty breathing, likely due to broken ribs. Go Gin's blow had taken a lot out of him, yet he was still alive.

The man used another Martial Art, evident by his body glowing in a leafy green color for a few seconds, and afterwards he could stand more confidently.


There was a brief moment of respite from the combat that the man used to take off his helmet. He wiped his brow, and when he looked at his hand, he saw blood upon it. Blood pouring from a wound on his head, and blood from the beast he had just now pierced.

The blood and sand mixed together. The land was fertile with the smell of death.

"That was well-struck." The giant said as he took the spear out of his body, the blood spewing forth like a river but slowing more and more each second until it ceased to flow in a matter of a dozen heartbeats.

"I didn't think you talked." The man replied.

"We warriors talk with our weapons, do we not?" The giant rebutted.

The man chuckled. "True enough."

Go gin threw the spear toward the man's feet, and it clanged harmlessly off the dirt. The man picked it up, but was nonetheless confused. A warrior's attempt at honor, a rule of the arena, or perhaps mercy to a dying man?

"Alas, you are not the one I seek."

"The one you seek? Who do you seek?" The man asked, confused.

"A worthy challenger. You are not the one who can defeat. Now, it is time to finish this. Do you wish to surrender, or die with your weapon in hand? I am fine with either." The giant spoke, his voice echoing through the openings in his bronze-colored horned helmet.

The man seemed put off by the question, and took his time to answer.

At that moment of silence, the roaring of the crowd also quieted down, awaiting the inevitable choice of the man. Eternal life through glory, or temporary life through flesh?

They could not hear his words, this conversation between competitors.

But I could. I was but a mere 30 feet above them, looking down on their fight, unseen by everyone in the arena, concealed by [Greater Invisibility], and I could hear everything. I was an unknown third party in their conversation, an impartial observer, a chronicler of a man's potential final moments.

The man did not answer with words.

He gritted his teeth against the pain, focusing on the task at hand. He knew he couldn't match Go Gin's strength, but he could be faster, more agile. At least, that was what he was hoping.

The man began to rush toward the giant and let out a loud cry that reached the very heavens. With a desperate gamble, the man feinted left and then lunged right, thrusting his spear at the gaps in Go Gin's armor. Go Gin dodged the first two piercing strikes, but it seemed that he would not dodged the third.


Yet again however, the giant displayed surprising quickness. The spear was accurate in that it was aiming right at the gap in Go Gin's visor and would have likely pierced through his eye, but it did not find its target. In the last moment, Go Gin had ducked, and the spear went right in the gap between the horns on his helmet.

At that moment, realization set in. The man's effort was in vain.

With a furious bellow, Go Gin swung his club horizontally one final time, a blow that landed with devastating force against the man's rib cage. A sickening crunch could be heard from the man, and roars of cheer from the crowd as the man flew off more than two dozen feet to the side.

Thus ended the life of this unknown combatant. A man that tried to fight a giant for some reason only he knew. Gold, glory, it matters not.

His body was dragged off unceremoniously out of the arena.

"Ladies and gentlemen! What a spectacle we have just witnessed! Another victory for our incredible giant Go Gin! Another challenger vanquished, yet also one who obtained eternal glory in the Arena! It was a hard-fought battle, yet in the end, the contest was never in doubt!" The crowd roared ever more loudly.

"Now, we will take a quick break, and in half an hour, the Twins, those brothers of sword and board, shall be facing off against two beastmen brought here from the far beyond the borders of the Empire, from those savage Abelion Hills that contain all manner of monstrosities!"

Half an hour break between this fight and the next. The man's body will still be warm.

---

A few hours later…


The fight in the Arena had left a bad taste in my mouth. I consider it a bad mark against this city's purity. Yes, the man chose to die instead of surrender, but I do wonder what made him decide to even fight in the first place. What made him face death head on like that? Perhaps I should ask him sometime.

Or perhaps not.

As for the moment, I'll continue on my walk through the city. I had taken a moment to acquire Baharuth currency through the private vaults of whichever nameless fool ran the Grand Arena. It was some bald man with a silly mustache and small beady eyes that made him look like a confused gerbil. It was quite easy. Just walked into the office, cast a [Sleep] spell on him, and took what I needed.

Do I feel bad about it? About taking gold earned by blood? No. The man's belly was so round he could do with a bit of poverty. And besides, I need new clothes. The ones I bought in E-Rantel are too raggedy for my tastes, and the ones I own in my own right are too resplendent. The clothes I was wearing for now would serve for now, but I wanted a new set before I went to check out the Magic Academy.

I hadn't really planned things out yet… I was sort of making things up as I went along, but I was certain over time I would get the hang of things. And besides, isn't all exploring 'making it up as you went along'?

The people of Arwintar were generally cheerful and seemed to have optimism for the future. Mothers were walking around with their daughters, sons were learning from their fathers, goods were transported by carriage regularly. The city felt alive, to put it simply.

I saw what appeared to be a married couple, a man with salt-and-pepper hair and a brown-haired young woman walking with their tiny yet adorable daughter. The girl was walking between the two of them while holding both her mother and her father's arms. I approached them.

"Hello. Do you have a minute?"

They turned to the side toward me and the girl looked up at me with curiosity, her hazel-colored eyes glowing because of the sunlight's refraction. It was quite a pretty sight.

"Yes?" The man answered in one word.

"I'm new to this city. I was looking for directions."

"Oh? Oh, are you from E-Rantel? We get plenty of visitors from there." The woman asked me.

"In a sense."

"What do you need?" Said the man while patting his daughter's head.

"I'm looking for some place to buy clothes. I don't want low-quality fabrics."

"Well, we can't have that now, can we!" The woman lit up with a smile on her face. I had noticed that both her husband and child were wearing nice clothes, which was one of the reasons I decided to approach them in particular, the other being they looked approachable. Granted, that could be said for everyone in Arwintar, as not only had I seen no beggars so far or any ruined districts unlike in E-Rantel, but I also saw that the general level of affluence was higher here.

"What kind of clothes do you need? Clothes for work, for travel, for formal events? There's quite a selection, you know." She spoke again.

"Something for everyday usage that is comfortable and still looks respectable." I replied.

"There's Royal Regalia, over on Mark Hamildan Street." The man offered, and the girl, no more than a toddler, nodded cutely, as if to affirm her father's words.

"They're no good dearie."

"No? Why? My cousin buys from them."

"Well, the store owner committed adultery on his wife with a slave girl."

I blanked. I blinked. Adultery? Slave girl?

The man was confused. "How is that relevant? The man has good wares."

"I won't let our money go to support someone like that. It's ungodly."

"Right…" The man scratched the back of his head.

"Mommy? What's adatai?" The girl asked. We all turned toward her with confusion on all our faces, myself most of all. They keep slaves here?

"Damn you woman, now look what we gotta deal with." The man whispered/shouted at his wife. It was a silent shout, the type people do in public when they don't want to attract attention.

"You people have slaves?" I blurted out.

The woman looked toward me stupidly. "We don't. They're too expensive." She replied, then her husband took both her and their child by their hands and hastily excused himself. "Sorry, but we have to go. Good luck finding clothes." He said, and scurried off.

I was left standing in the middle of the street for what felt like minutes.

It was only the shouts of a carriage driver that eventually struck me out of my thoughts.

---

Meanwhile, in the Imperial Magic Academy…


Fluder Paradyne walked through the hallowed halls of the Imperial Magic Academy, his soft, loose white robe flowing gracefully around him. The necklace of crystal orbs clinked softly with each step, while his numerous magical rings glimmered in the dim light. Despite his short stature, he carried himself with the dignity of a master, his magnificent white beard and snow-white hair giving him an air of timeless wisdom. His eyes, full of light and knowledge, scanned the familiar surroundings with a mixture of nostalgia and purpose. But there was more than wisdom there. There was hunger. There was ambition. And there was also hatred.

"Everything handed to them on a platter, and yet all they do is fail," Fluder thought bitterly. "Or perhaps that is why they fail? Because they have teachers, because they live in safety, because they've never really known struggle."

Born in Belmous Village, which at the time of Fluder's birth was home to some 300-ish houses, yet is now home to no more than bones in the dirt and the grass growing above them, Fluder was old. Over 200 years old, Fluder was nothing more than a young lad fresh out of puberty, a boy really, a man only in name, when the Demon God of Insects swept through the plains of his home and consumed everything until there was nothing left living there. Fluder, a young lad, lost and alone, picked up some skills in magic quickly from various teachers, but was too weak at the time to properly get revenge himself or to gaze into the abyss of the arcane properly. He was at that time, a worm blessed to be able to walk on two feet, yet his quick growth caused him to become overconfident. He thought he could walk into the Floating City and learn its mysteries, but he was denied.

There would be no shortcut for him. No grand tome revealing hidden spells known only to him, no teacher bestowing ancient wisdom, no magic item that would instantly give him knowledge. It was grueling, annoying, thankless, and slow. To grow in wisdom and knowledge, to build this Academy, to search for the truth. And he had to do it alone. Yet, these kids had it all handed to them, and were still too slow. Sophie, one of his brightest, was only of the 4th tier, and was admittedly a bit of a pervert. Arche, also a genius, dropped out due to family issues that he offered to solve but she stubbornly refused. Karl also had incredible potential to match or even surpass him, yet the lad ended up getting killed in a stupid experiment where he blew himself up. Fluder had 30 Chosen disciples, and not one of them was fit to inherit. It was disappointing.

As he wandered deeper into the academy, the sound of bubbling and soft murmuring caught his attention. Curious, Fluder followed the noise to one of the lesser-used research rooms. Peering inside, he saw Sophie, one of his most promising students, surrounded by an assortment of jars and flasks containing various types of slimes. Her brow was furrowed in concentration as she scribbled notes and observed the creatures with meticulous care.

Sophie was a striking figure, a woman with heterochromia eyes—her left eye a vivid blood red, while her right eye was a soft pink. Her fair complexion contrasted sharply with her dark purple hair, which fell in waves around her face. A scar over her left eye, partially concealed by a gold-rimmed monocle, added an air of mystery and danger to her appearance. She wore a white jacket with a hood and an open chest top that revealed her bosom, while a belt at her waist carried various items, including test tubes and other instruments. She exuded confidence, with a hint of a crazed and perverted edge, believing that humanity could advance through her research on monsters.

"Sophie," Fluder called softly, stepping into the room. His voice, though gentle, carried the weight of authority and wisdom.

Startled, Sophie looked up, her eyes widening in surprise. "Master Fluder! I didn't expect to see you here."

Fluder offered her a kind smile, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. "I could say the same, my dear. What brings you to this secluded corner of the academy?"

Sophie quickly composed herself, her initial surprise giving way to enthusiasm. "I've been researching slimes, Master. Their regenerative properties and potential uses in alchemy are fascinating. I believe there's much we can learn from them."

Fluder approached the table, examining the various specimens with interest. "Slimes, you say? An intriguing choice of study. What have you discovered so far?"

Sophie launched into an explanation, detailing her experiments and findings. As she spoke, Fluder listened intently, nodding occasionally and asking insightful questions. Despite his vast knowledge, he found himself genuinely impressed by her dedication and the progress she had made.

"You've done remarkable work, Sophie," Fluder said when she finished. "Your findings could indeed open new avenues in both alchemy and healing magic."

Sophie's face lit up with pride and gratitude. "Thank you, Master. Your encouragement means a great deal to me."

Fluder placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch light but reassuring. "Remember, the pursuit of knowledge is a noble endeavor, but it must always be tempered with wisdom and caution. Continue your research, but do not lose sight of the greater picture."

The greater picture of course was a useful term that he often used when dealing with the lesser-minded ones. It was a term he taught his favored pupil, the young Jircniv, how to use as well. It was a term used by both teachers and emperors.

"Devote yourself to the greater good." These words would often be spoken, but would two people agree that the same thing is the greater good? To Fluder, the greater good was simple. Knowledge of magic. Everything that had to be sacrificed for that knowledge was a worthy sacrifice.

Sophie nodded earnestly. "I understand, Master. I will heed your advice."

Fluder gave her a final, approving nod before turning to leave. As he walked away, he couldn't help but feel a pang of envy. Sophie and her peers had so much potential, so many years ahead of them to explore the depths of magic that he longed to see. Yet, he also felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps through their discoveries, he too might glimpse the abyss of magic he so desperately sought.

With renewed determination, Fluder continued his walk through the academy, the light of wisdom still shining brightly in his eyes. He took a moment to glance out the window toward the center of Arwintar, and activated the special ability he had that he could use through his eyes.

His eyes were blessed with a Talent, but not by birth. They belonged to another who no longer had need of them and could not use them. With those eyes that Fluder had personally and gently extracted before planting them within his own skull, Fluder could see the innate magical capacity of items and people. He could see just how much mana someone or something contained. This allowed him to check at a glance who had potential to be his student, who was growing and who was stagnating.

It developed into a bit of a skill. At a glance he could tell at what level of Tier Magic someone was. The higher the tier, the brighter the glow they emitted. Most people were like a candle, his students were like a torch, and the most gifted people he saw were like a bonfire.

He continued to stare, completely struck speechless.

His wrinkled fingers rubbed at his eyes again and again, all to ensure he was not mistaken.

Why was there a forest fire reaching up to the very heavens in his very own city? What was going on? Who was this, who contained such magical power, that he almost felt blinded by it? Was there an attack on the city? No, surely not, he would have heard by now.

Fluder felt fear, excitement, and hope, for the first time in a long time.

---

I had spent quite the pretty penny at a place called 'Royal Regalia' which fit the name quite properly. A long, flowing white cloak that draped over my shoulders and fell to the ground, with intricate designs and patterns on it that added a touch of elegance and mystique to the cloak, which also had a hood, was an instant hit for me.

Beneath it, somewhat hidden, I wore a purple tunic with subtle yet intricate patterns, of a very high quality, adorned with gold at the collar and cuffs, and also black pants that were somewhat bare-bones compared to the tunic and cloak, yet of still high quality. I completed the set with black leather gloves that went up to my forearms, a brown leather belt tied around my waist and a pair of practical and sturdy yet comfortable black boots.

All in all, I was satisfied by the shopping experience, and the shop owner, a distinguished older gentleman, made no unsavory comment at all about my appearance, considering my pointy ears and glowing eyes made it obvious I wasn't a human at first glance. Whether or not he thought I was a human or an elf, it didn't matter at the end of the day, as the man conducted himself properly and even earned himself a nice bonus at the end.




I gazed around myself at the splendor of the city. Daylight burned, and I used my time to explore around the city. I had already visited the Grand Arena earlier this morning, which left a few locations on my list that I wanted to visit before I went to the Imperial Palace. To be more specific, I wanted to visit the Temple to the Four, I wanted to visit the Imperial Magic Academy, the Adventurer's Guild, and the market.

However, while walking through the city, my ears picked up a tune. It came from what appeared to be a tavern. It was the middle of the day, yet it seemed particularly loud.

I was indecisive about whether or not to go in. The last time I went to a tavern, a man lost his eyes.

Eh, what's the worst that could happen.

I walked through the door, expecting to find another lusty song about barmaids with oversized breasts. Instead, I saw something far more… mundane.

In this lively tavern of Arwintar, whose name I do not know nor care to know for there are so many of these taverns in this city, where laughter and conversation blended with the clink of tankards, I saw and heard a troubadour holding court, with his courtiers around him waiting on his every move. It was a relatively young man, wielding his lute like a swordsman would wield a deadly weapon.

His voice, rich and resonant, wove a tale of ancient lands and a sovereign's valor—a melody that spoke of Emperor Escevell's triumph over the Wyvern Riding Tribes.

"In ancient desert lands where shadows roamed,

Mighty Escevell, on the Emperor's throne.

He rode 'gainst Wyverns' savage flight,

In southwest realms where sunsets bright."

The troubadour's fingers danced skillfully over the strings of his lute, each note carrying the weight of history and heroism.

"With sword and shield,

He led the fray,

His valor fierce,

The enemy would pay!

Through valleys deep and mountains tall,

He answered fate's relentless call!"

I leaned closer, curious by the tale unfolding in verse—a tribute to leadership and courage in the face of adversity. But how much of it was true. Did this man actually kill Wyverns? Were there actual Wyvern Riders?

"Against the Wyvern Riding Tribes he stood,

Their strength and fury, broken like cheap wood.

Yet Escevell, with steadfast might,

Brought dawn amidst the darkest night."

The tavern patrons, enthralled by the troubadour's storytelling, nodded or raised their tankards in silent homage to the Emperor's memory.

"Their arrows fell like autumn rain,

But Wyverns' pride could not sustain.

For Escevell, with strategy grand,

United empire, with steady hand."

As the song reached its peak, a wave of emotion swept through the room—pride, awe, and a deep respect for the past echoing in every line.

"Oh, how the banners waved in pride,

As savages scattered, fled to hide.

In history's annals, bold and true,

Escevell's name, forever true."

The people began to cheer loudly, clinking their tankards together in the honor of both the musician and the warrior.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, my humble patrons!" The troubadour bowed, took off his hat and extended it in a graceful pose and proceeded to lavish praises on his customers.

Clever.

I had to say, it was not a bad song. I took out a silver coin from my pouch and threw it in an arc until it landed right in the man's hat, safely nestled there. The others soon began to do much the same. Satisfied, I left the tavern and continued on my journey through Arwintar.

---

My steps led me to an opulent building, its façade adorned with sculptures of mythical creatures and celestial beings. A sign above the grand entrance bore the words "Elysian Exchange and Auction House," and curiosity drew me in. Two guards wearing black armor and cruel half-helms and wielding halberds guarded the entrance.

I stood in front of them, waiting. They did not speak.

"May I enter?" I asked.

"No funny business." Growled one of them.
"No refunds." Growled the other.

Right…

I decided to walk through. The heavy wooden doors swung open to reveal an interior even more magnificent than the outside. Crystal chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting a warm glow over the crowd gathered within. There were people talking, all clad resplendently, most likely nobles, discussing this and that. Politics most likely.

I tried to make myself unseen and occupy a corner and just observe. I didn't get much time. A bell rang from further inside the building, and soon enough like rats all the nobles scurried off. I tried following them, but two guards crossed their spears and blocked my way.

"You need a ticket to enter."

"Need a number to buy."

These two weren't any more identifiable from the two guarding the entrance to the building proper. I turned my head to the left and the right, until I found what appeared to be a receptionist's desk. It was staffed by a young woman with a bob cut, and she was protected by what appeared to be glass.

"Here to enter the Auction?" She asked cheerfully.

"...yes." I responded.

"Alrighty then, you're just in time. It's beginning soon, but I can fix you right up. I'll just need your name and a deposit."

"Deposit?"

"Coin deposit. We return it if you don't buy anything."

"What do you sell?"

She smiled. "Oh, goods and services. Livestock sometimes." The guards chuckled.

Is there a joke here? What am I missing here?

Silent and unable to formulate a response, I deposited the necessary gold, gave her my name, and took a small sign with a number on it.

---

Rows of plush chairs filled the room, each occupied by finely dressed individuals, their wealth evident in their attire. At the center of the hall was a raised platform, draped in crimson and gold, bearing the emblem of an elegant tree, its branches intertwined with runes. The air was thick with anticipation, the atmosphere almost festive, yet there was an undercurrent of something darker. I felt unnerved in this place, as if something horrible would happen, or if I had failed to see what was plainly obvious.

I found an open seat toward the back, far away from the vermin gathering closer to the stage. The vermin continued to speak, and as they did, a deep unease continued to make itself known in my soul.

An auctioneer, dressed in lavish robes and dripping with jewels, took the stage. He twirled his hand around him, and the curtains parted, revealing flesh.


On the stage stood a line of elves, their otherworldly beauty striking even to a seasoned warrior like myself. They were bound in chains, their faces a mix of resignation and defiance. Dark elves, no less, their noble features marred by the indignity of their situation.

"Behold," the announcer declared, his voice booming as he extolled the virtues of each elf. Gesturing to the first elf, a tall, graceful figure with silver hair and piercing blue eyes. "Eldarin, a master healer, proficient in both alchemy and healing magics, trained in the ancient arts of Elven medicine. His hands can mend wounds that no human doctor could dream of healing. Who will start the bidding?"

The crowd responded with fervent bids, hands shooting up as wealthy patrons vied for the healer. I watched, a mixture of fascination and revulsion churning within me. This was no ordinary auction; this was the cold commercialization of sentient beings, a stark contrast to the ideas and virtues written into my being at the time of my creation in Nazarick.

Next was a female elf, her golden hair cascading over her shoulders, her eyes a deep, haunting green. "Lythien, an accomplished musician and singer," the auctioneer announced. "Her voice can soothe the fiercest of tempers and bring joy to the darkest of hearts. A rare talent, indeed." She was dressed much like a noble would be, and though clearly beautiful, she was not a 'pleasure' slave, which was the mark of grace for her I supposed.

Again, the bids flew, each higher than the last. The room buzzed with excitement as the auction continued. I observed the bidders closely. There was a wealthy merchant, his girth a testament to his prosperity, who seemed particularly interested in acquiring entertainers for his lavish parties. A stern-faced noblewoman, draped in furs, sought a personal healer for her ailing son. A young nobleman, barely more than a boy, bid eagerly for a tutor, a wise old elf with eyes that seemed to hold centuries of knowledge.

Then came a heartbreaking sight: elven children, their innocence starkly contrasting with the opulence around them. "These young ones are adept in household chores and can be trained to serve in any capacity. Their youth allows them to learn how to read and write quickly, and as a matter of fact many of them already have. They will learn to work and be loyal to you, that much I can guarantee" the auctioneer proclaimed, his tone as businesslike as ever. The bids were quick, the patrons seeing them as long-term investments.

It was obvious to me why. If these people could secure these slaves while young and give them decent enough treatment, eventually they would grow to love their chains. Isolated and afraid and ostracized, they would learn to worship the hand that fed them, and over time would abandon all hope of returning to their native land.

A pair of formidable warriors followed, their muscular forms and stern expressions hinting at their prowess in battle. "Strong and loyal, these elves will serve well in any noble's guard," the auctioneer said, and the bids soared, driven by those seeking to bolster their personal guards.

Finally, a hush fell over the room as the auctioneer introduced a group of elven women, their beauty accentuated by scant, revealing clothing. "These rare beauties are perfect for companionship and more intimate services," he announced with a knowing smile, and the crowd's interest peaked, bids coming in rapid succession.

Should I end every human life here? Destroy this city? Destroy this Empire? Destroy Slane while I'm at it?

I can. I easily can. I don't really think they can stop me. I can easily justify myself to Lord Ainz if push comes to shove.

The wood on my chair creaks and cracks, crumbling into sawdust beneath my fingers. A few people gaze back toward me, but most ignore me, their eyes too drawn to the scantily clad dark elven women.

Restraint. Yes. There's innocent people here, no matter how few. And perhaps these people can be reformed instead of destroyed. I shall hope for that, for now.

The room's energy shifted as the auctioneer signaled for silence. "And now, the grand prize of tonight's auction," he announced, his voice lowering dramatically. "One of the Elven King's daughters, captured by the warriors of the Slane Theocracy and brought to us. Behold, her signature heterochromatic eyes, marking her as one of the Elven King's descendants. I give you, Perska."

A young girl was led onto the stage, her heterochromatic eyes—one blue, one green—wide with a mixture of fear and defiance. Her dirty blonde hair framed a delicate face that still bore the innocence of youth. The crowd's murmur turned to a collective gasp, and the bidding began almost immediately.

All I could see was Aura in her place.

"One hundred gold coins!" called a slimy noble, his beady eyes gleaming with greed. He was draped in rich silks, his fingers heavy with rings.

"Two hundred!" I shouted, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions within me. The money I had taken from that fat fool in the Arena would hopefully serve me well. I didn't expect to spend it like this, but needs must.

"Three hundred!" the noble countered, sneering in my direction. His confidence was unsettling.

"Four hundred!" I retorted, my mind racing. The room was electric with tension, all eyes on the two of us.

"Five hundred!" The noble's voice was calm, assured. I hesitated, my hand trembling. This was all the money I had. I already spent the rest of it. I could outbid him no further.

"One thousand!" the noble declared, his smirk widening as he saw the defeat in my eyes. The auctioneer's proclamation was like a spear against my heart, and the room erupted in applause.

I stood there, helpless, as the princess was led away, and it felt like her eyes had hope for the first time in a long time before it was crushed in a brief, heart-wrenching moment. The guards, heavily armed and vigilant, ensured that the auction proceeded without disruption.

I took a good look at the noble. I took a good look at the man who ran this butcher's market, and at all those who willingly participated. I remembered the face of the girl who sold tickets for this place. I etched their faces into memory. One day soon, their dooms would visit them like a thief in the night.

 

[BenMalek]

Schnelle Gerechtigkeit​

The night air was cool and crisp as I left the Elysian Exchange and Auction House, a triumphant smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. I slicked my hair back, adjusted my vest, and stepped inside the carriage. The elven girl beside me walked with hesitant steps, her chains clinking softly with each movement. I couldn't help but feel a surge of exhilaration. Outbidding that foreign woman had been the highlight of my evening. Her frustration and defeat had been palpable, and now, the elven princess was mine. Damn tourist.

So many foreigners were coming to Arwintar lately. All of them coming like good little dogs, just waiting to eat the scraps off the Emperor's table.

"Get moving!" I commanded my guards, and they obeyed. They were smart men, all of them. Obedient, loyal, and silent. Nothing more, and nothing less was required from a good guardsman.

The carriage ride back to my estate was a blur of excitement. I glanced at the girl, her heterochromatic eyes—one blue, one green—wide with fear. From up close, they really were beautiful. They only served to heighten my anticipation. Tonight, I would enjoy my prize, but first, she needed to be prepared. And who knows, perhaps she could sire a son?

Yes, she was a bit young, not yet an adult, but it wouldn't take more than a decade for her to reach child-bearing age, and by that time perhaps she might even grant me an heir. An heir of my own blood and bone, strengthened by the Elf King's own blood, the child would be strong and fearsome indeed. Perhaps they might even marry into the Imperial Family and get a good position in the government? Jircniv had plenty of concubines and wives, and plenty of sons and daughters. He'd need to get rid of them sooner or later… the sons would need positions, and the daughters marriages. Yes, there was potential there. But until such a time comes, the girl would be purely stress relief.

Buying a slave girl was not something I really wanted to do, but I really couldn't stand to be in the presence of that wicked hag that dared to call herself my wife. Blasted woman was lucky I needed her father to help export the glass from my workshops safely without it cracking into bits and pieces into foreign markets.

We arrived at my estate, a sprawling mansion surrounded by lush gardens and high walls. My servants rushed to open the doors, their eyes widening at the sight of the elven girl. I paid them no mind, leading her inside and calling for my head servant.

"See to it that she is bathed and dressed appropriately," I commanded, my voice firm. "I want her ready within the hour."

The head servant, a portly man with a perpetually worried expression, nodded quickly. The man had been here ever since my brother's days as lord of the estate, and he'd always been constant. And dull. "Yes, my lord. It will be done."

I watched as the girl was led away, a satisfied smirk playing on my lips. This was the life I deserved. Wealth, power, and the finest pleasures money could buy. Even the Bloody Emperor, Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix, with his ruthless purges, had recognized my value and left me untouched. My influence was too great, my connections too vital. I was untouchable.

As I made my way to my chambers, I encountered my wife, Lady Evelina von Hohenfels. Her delicate features were marred by a frown as she eyed the elven girl being led away.

"Aldric, what have you done?" she asked, her voice laced with disappointment. "Buying a slave? An elven slave? This is beneath us. It's barbaric."

I waved her off dismissively. "Barbaric. Spare me your sanctimony, Evelina. I know all about your dalliances with the gardener. Perhaps I should have him brought in to serve us both tonight. Or I could also have him scourged. Or I could simply tell your father. We both know how zealous he is, and how he'd look at you if he knew."

"You wouldn't dare."

"I would. Now answer the question. Which of these three options would you prefer?"

Her face flushed with anger and embarrassment, but she said nothing. She knew I had the upper hand, and any protest would only deepen her disgrace. She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving me to revel in my victory.

I made my way up the stairs to my chambers, my mind racing with anticipation. The room was opulent, filled with rich tapestries and fine furniture. I poured myself a glass of the finest wine, savoring the taste as I imagined the night's events. I had always been a connoisseur of the exotic, and this elven princess was the rarest prize yet. I decided to get some work done, and look over my books, but my mind was half there.

At one point I felt a chill upon me, a cold draft. I turned around and noticed the window open and the wind blowing. Damn foolish servants leaving the window open at nighttime. I closed it and went back to my books and sat down to read. The numbers were going up, and this purchase didn't put me too far behind. Did I overpay for the girl? Yes. But I had to. That damn foreign woman tried to bid against me. Against me!

The sheer balls on her. I should find her. Either kill her or hire her. I don't know which. A worker team could find her and acquire her for me. Hmm…I'll think it over tomorrow.

Time seemed to drag as I waited, but finally, the head servant returned, bowing low. "My lord, the girl is ready."

"Excellent," I said, setting down my glass. I stood, smoothing my robes and making my way to the basement where she awaited. I passed numerous guards on my way there. Their faces were stone cold and silent.

The door creaked open, revealing the girl standing in the center of the well lit basement. Torches were at every corner of the room. She had been bathed and dressed in a silken gown that clung to her slender frame. Her hair, now clean and shining, cascaded over her shoulders. She was a vision, her eyes still wide with fear but also a hint of defiance.

She knew there was no escape. In this room, neither Jircniv, nor the Temples, nor any power on earth, could affect me. I might as well be a god.

"Come here," I ordered, my voice dripping with anticipation.

She hesitated, but a sharp look from me sent her moving. As she approached, I reached out to touch her, my fingers brushing against her soft skin. The thrill of power surged through me.

"Do you know how lucky you are?" I whispered, my grip tightening. "To belong to someone as powerful as me?"

She said nothing, her eyes locked on mine. I could see the fear in them, and it only fueled my arrogance. I was untouchable, unstoppable. Even Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix couldn't lay a hand on me.

"How old are you?" I asked her. But she was stubborn and silent, and didn't speak a word.

"So be it then. Resist. I'll just enjoy it better."

I dragged her to the far corner of the basement, where chains hung from the walls. Securing her wrists and ankles, I stepped back to admire my handiwork. "Tonight, you will learn your place," I said, picking up a whip from a nearby table.

The first strike landed with a sharp crack, and she cried out, the sound echoing through the basement. Each lash brought a surge of exhilaration, her pain fueling my pleasure. After several minutes, my arm grew tired, and I paused, turning to a nearby table where a bottle of wine awaited. I poured myself a glass, savoring the rich aroma.

As I lifted the glass to my lips, I noticed something that made me freeze. Seated in my chair was a figure cloaked in white, with silver-gold hair and long, elf-like ears. Her eyes, glowing with an unnatural light, pierced through me, and her presence exuded a power that made my knees weak.

"Who are you?" I demanded, my voice trembling despite my attempts to sound authoritative.

The figure lifted the glass of wine I had set out, taking a small sip before grimacing. "Too bitter," she said, her voice resonant and echoing through the room. "Much like your soul."

That voice. I've heard it before! It was that damn woman. Her ears! She's an elf. Are they relatives? It all makes sense now.

"How dare you!" Anger flared within me, and I grabbed a spear I had kept on a weapon rack that kept both the whip and numerous other tools of death, hurling it at her with all my might. The spear flew true, as I knew it would, I was no slouch in martial pursuits after all. The damn woman didn't move from where she was sitting as the spear was flying toward her. I regretted being so hasty, as I couldn't have fun with her if she was dead. Gentlemen have standards, after all.


What I expected to happen, didn't happen. As the spear neared her, it deflected off an invisible barrier and clattered uselessly to the floor. My heart pounded in my chest, my bravado slipping away.

"Looks like you're having trouble with penetration. Perhaps that's why you use a whip? I understand, you wouldn't be the first man faced with such problems."

"Guards!" I shouted, my voice rising in fear. "Guards, to me!"

There was no response. I ran up the stairs into the hallway, expecting to see my loyal guards rushing to my aid. Instead, I was met with a horrifying sight. My guards were there, but they were no longer men. They had been turned into stone statues, their expressions frozen in terror.

"What's happening? This can't be happening! This isn't happening!" I shouted, yet before I even knew it, I felt myself being manhandled. I was flying through the air. How?!


The next thing I felt was pain, as my back collided against the basement wall. I had just left it!

My head was dizzy, and I felt like a rib was cracked.

"Why... why are you doing this?" I barely managed to let out, lower than a whisper.

The woman stood up. She stood up and walked toward the weapon rack and slowly examined each of the tools there with vague disinterest. "Well, isn't it obvious? It's because I can." She replied.

What an asinine reason! You don't enter someone's home and subject them to such humiliation because you just 'can'!

"Because you can?"

"Isn't that the reason you bought this girl and were prepared to treat her like no more than meat? Because you could. You didn't care for the consequences."

"That's… I'm a noble! Don't you know who I am. I am important! She's no one! Just a slave girl!"


The woman regarded me impassively before chuckling. "I have no respect for someone simply because they were born into temporal power. Why should I? If you knew the kind of power I was born into, real power, you would laugh at kings and emperors. You would be the same."

"What are you supposed to be then?" I croaked out as I managed to push myself up against the wall to better support my back.

"You know, while I was waiting for you to make the journey home by carriage, I decided to read the Book of Exodus. It was on a whim really, as I knew what it was about but had never really read it," she explained, her voice softening just slightly. "It was decently interesting, but there's a quote I liked. 'Whoever kidnaps another man must be put to death, whether he sells him or the man is found in his possession.' Do you think it's a fair law?"

"Fair law? How can it be fair? You're judging me based on some passage from a book I've never even heard about!"

The figure was contemplative for a second then nodded.

"True. But Imperial Law, the Law set forth by the Emperor, that allows you to own a slave, prohibits you from whipping or beating your slaves without due cause. I checked just today with a local judge. So you're still guilty." I felt my throat dry up, my heart racing. "

You can't do this! Even the Emperor—"

"Would recognize you as guilty. Emperor Jircniv cannot save you now, and besides, I'm going to meet him soon enough," she interrupted, her voice like thunder. "You're like a malignant tumor in this world," she continued, her eyes narrowed. "And just as a surgeon must excise the cancer to save the patient, so too must I remove you to heal the world. There's no place for corruption here. I can't afford to present a poisoned gift to Lord Ainz."

Was this it? No, no, I refuse! I refuse to go out like this, like some dog!

With the last vestiges of my strength, I pushed myself upwards and jumped at her, but before I could even go near her, a visible shockwave erupted from her hand, and slammed me into the wall, yet again, the bricks cracking as easily as my spine cracked.

Pain. Failure. Defeat. Hopelessness. Death.

My pleas were useless, and the burning pain intensified. My vision darkened, and I felt myself slipping away, consumed by the unbearable pain. I prayed to gods I had never believed in, hoping for a miracle that would never come.

My head was running, I was dizzy, and I could barely see.

When the whip I used to whip the girl floated into her hand, all hope I had died.

With the sting of the whip on my chest, I felt myself being burned alive. Each strike was stronger than humanly possible, and literal pounds of flesh and blood were dislodged from my broken body with each swing. This lasted for a good half a dozen strikes, before the whip broke under the excessive force.

The woman stared at the whip in her hand and threw it away wordlessly.

By some miracle, I was still alive, but when I saw her pick up the spear I threw at her, I could do nothing but chuckle.

"Gods forgive me…" I let out a final prayer, perhaps in vain, at the gods I never believed in, pleading that they have mercy on my soul.

I thought myself a god here, but in the end, I was only human. I didn't even see her throw the spear before it pierced my skull.

---

The sun had set hours ago. Many were awake, and many were asleep, in the beating heart of the Imperial Capital.

Fluder Paradyne floated above the Imperial Magic Academy, his heart pounding with the thrill of discovery. Through his arcane eyes, he had seen an immense source of power, a beacon that had appeared suddenly in the heart of Arwintar. It was unlike anything he had ever sensed before, a force that could only be described as divine. And that source of power had finally stood still.

Perhaps it was foolish of him to hope to meet such a power without preparation, but he could not hope to contain himself. Two centuries of languishing in darkness, and he would not let himself be paralyzed with fear!

Fluder set off to pursue his destiny. The cool wind whipped through his snow-white hair and beard as he flew across the city, his keen eyes fixed on the direction of the disturbance. The night was silent, save for the distant sounds of the city below, but his mind was aflame with anticipation.

That powerful presence, that raw magic he had been waiting for all his life! Would it be a worthy opponent, a potential student, or a learned master? He didn't know, and he could hardly contain himself.

The presence he had been following, had also left tracks! A fire, easily visible at night, especially from a bird's eye view, was the mark of the mysterious magical source. Whoever this was, they were clearly busy!

He set off even faster toward the source. His mind raced with thoughts, until all of a sudden… the presence vanished.

His eye twitched, and he stopped mid air, standing there stunned, his mouth agape, and his mind nearly broke. It took all he had not to scream at the top of his lungs.

"No, no, no, no, no! How! Why now! Why did you leave me!?"

Fluder's heart nearly sank due to sorrow, but eventually, his curiosity and determination spurred him onward.

Some time later,h e descended, landing lightly on the grounds of the burning estate. The acrid smell of smoke and the crackling of the fire filled the air, but Fluder's mind was focused on uncovering the truth behind the disturbance.

The mansion, once a grand and opulent residence, was now a scene of chaos and destruction. Fluder moved through the grounds with purpose, his eyes taking in the devastation. The bodies of soldiers, turned to stone, stood frozen in place, their expressions twisted in terror. Fluder's heart ached at the sight; their fate was a testament to the overwhelming power that had been unleashed here.

He moved deeper into the mansion, using his mastery of magic to stifle the flames as he went. A wave of his hand sent a gust of wind through the halls, extinguishing the fires that blocked his path. The once-grand corridors were now filled with smoke and rubble, but Fluder pressed on, his eyes scanning for any clue that might explain what had happened.

As he made his way through the smoke and blackened ruins, Fluder's eyes fell upon a decapitated head lying amidst the debris. It was the head of a portly man dressed as a butler, his face frozen in an expression of horror. Fluder supposed the man was the head servant of the estate, based on the man's clothing.

The sight filled him with a mix of excitement and determination. Whatever had transpired here, it was clear that a great and terrible power had been at work. But why?

Fluder moved with caution, his senses heightened. He found the lady of the estate in a nearby hallway, slumped against the wall, an expression of fear written on her face. Her eyes stared blankly ahead, her life there but her mind not. Most likely in shock, or paralyzed with fear. Fluder felt a pang of pity; she had been a pawn in a larger game, a victim of forces beyond her control. Poor thing never even had a chance.

"At least she's still alive… somehow. She should have choked due to the smoke poisoning the air, but she's still alive. Perhaps she would have been better off if she perished?"

For a moment, Fluder contemplated putting the woman out of her misery, but decided against it. Whether she lived or died was not his concern, and it was beneath him to be a mere executioner. Fluder moved on with his exploration of the mansion.

Finally, Fluder reached the basement, the place that always was either the most boring or most exciting part of a house. The door hung ajar, and he could feel the lingering traces of death in the air. He stepped inside, the smell of blood mingling with the smoke. The sight that greeted him was both horrifying and illuminating.

At the far end of the room,, was the corpse of the noble lord of the mansion. The spear had pierced straight through his skull and had lodged itself thoroughly into the wall. The scene was one of brutal violence, but it also spoke of a power that had transcended mere physical force. Fluder didn't know who this was, beyond it being some noble lord of the Empire, but he did wonder what exactly this man did to deserve such brutality.

His eyes turned toward his right, where he saw what were no doubt chains, probably used for sexual masochism. Was this a sex dungeon?

Was this all part of some lover's quarrel? But the wife would be dead then… hmm, it made no sense.

Fluder's eyes examined the rest of the room, and he found literal pounds of flesh and fat across the floor and the walls, with blood being sprayed everywhere. He also saw what appeared to be a broken whip. He picked up the plain whip, which had not a lick of magical potential in it.

"He was whipped before he was killed… some attempt at justice, perhaps? Curious…" Fluder mused to himself before throwing the whip away.

Fluder took one last glance at the corpse and walked away. He exited the mansion the same way he came, gave it one last look, and with his mind set on finding out who did this and why, he teleported back to his quarters in the Imperial Academy.

AN: Justice comes quick. Also, will be catching a plane tomorrow and will need some time to adjust so Idk how uploading chapters will go.

 

[BenMalek]

Masacre en el Bosque​

Under the pale light of a waning moon, Momon, Nabe, Lupusregina, and Aura ventured deep into the forest. The trees loomed over them, casting long shadows that danced with the flicker of their torches. Aura led the way, her keen eyes and expert knowledge of the terrain guiding them toward their prey. The mission was clear: subjugate the forest by eliminating the Serpent of the West and the Giant of the East.

As they walked, Momon's thoughts drifted back to E-Rantel. "I'm still dissatisfied with how the incident with that woman Clementine was resolved," he began, breaking the silence.

Nabe glanced at him, her eyes hard, yet also filled with confusion at the same time. "I don't understand Momon-Sama. I thought you would have been pleased. We did everything right, Momon-sama. We captured her without bloodshed, preventing chaos."

Momon nodded but his expression remained grim. "Exactly. IT all went perfectly, that's the problem. If things had gone out of hand first, we could have made a name for ourselves by saving everyone. We know those two were part of this Zurrernon group, or at least that's what the Guild Master and that talking magical orb told us, but beyond that we know nothing about them or their goals. Our rise from Copper to Gold after the quest with Nphirea feels lacking."

Lupusregina chuckled. "But, Momon-sama, you saved the entire city. Isn't that enough?"

"It's never enough," Momon replied, his voice firm. "We must aim higher, subjugate greater threats, and grow in power each day. Only then will Nazarick be safe. And that is why we are here."

Aura, sensing the tension, changed the topic. "Mare's making great progress with concealing Nazarick," she said, her voice cheerful. "He's getting better at it every day."

Momon nodded approvingly. "That's good to hear. The concealment of Nazarick is crucial. How are your pets, Aura?"

"Oh, they're doing great! I've been training them hard, and they're responding well," Aura replied with a smile. "And don't worry, I'm eating properly."

Lupusregina laughed, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "We just care about you, Aura. You tend to get so caught up in your work."

Aura giggled. "I know, I know. By the way, what's it like interacting with humans?"

Nabe's expression turned icy. "They're weak and foolish. It's tiresome dealing with them."

Lupusregina shrugged. "They're amusing, in a way. Their reactions are always so…predictable."

Momon's eyes glowed behind his visor. "Most of them are indistinguishable from each other in value, but they serve their purpose. They are tools to be used and discarded as needed."

All the while, Aura's keen sense of smell led them towards their quarry.

As they approached a large clearing outside a cave, the sound of panicked voices reached their ears. The Giant of the East, a brutish troll, was arguing with the Serpent of the West, a crafty naga. The two were clearly distressed by the disappearance of Hamusuke.

"We need to find out what happened to the Wise King of the Forest!" the Giant bellowed, his voice rumbling through the trees.

The Serpent hissed. "Calm yourself, you fool. We'll figure this out. Maybe we should—"

Momon stepped into the clearing, his presence commanding immediate attention. "Good evening," he said, his voice cold and authoritative. "We're here to put an end to your pathetic rule over this forest."

The Giant, who was in fact not a giant, but gigantic, muscular troll, stepped forward. He wore clothes that looked like skin from a tiger-like creature and had a beast's skull hanging on his shoulder, and in his hand he wielded a giant wooden club.

The Giant expressed his dissatisfaction with a roar of anger. "Who do you think you are? How dare you insult me!"

Aura smirked. "He's Momon, and you're nothing but a filthy troll."

Momon raised a hand, silencing Aura. "No, let me introduce myself properly." With a flourish, he removed his helmet, revealing his skeletal visage. "I am Ainz Ooal Gown, and I am taking command of this forest, and all who dwell within it. Now, kneel, and live. Or resist, and die."

In response the Giant simply…laughed. He laughed, as did all his minions, while the Serpent, who Momon identified as a Naga at a glance, looked caught between two minds.

"What's so funny?" Ainz Ooal Gown asked, his voice calm, but his eyes blazing with rage. To have someone laugh at the name of his Guildmates meant that even if the troll begged, it would die. Disrespecting the memory of his friends was a mortal sin, and a crime for which there would be no pardon, and no escape from.

"Fuhahaha! Puny and tiny skeleton! Your name is weak, and ugly! The name of a coward! Not a powerful name like mine!"

"Calm down Guu, I don't think that's-

The Serpent of the West's words were cut off by the sound of Momon's thrown greatsword embedding itself into the Giant's chest. The force of the blow was so great in fact, the creature known as Guu fell flat on his fat and giant ass, shaking the earth with his great weight and letting out moaning sounds and spitting out blood.

This caused chaos to erupt.


First to make a move was the Serpent. Momon identified it as a Naga, but a rather ugly and unevolved one compared to the Yggdrasil variants. It tried to negotiate, all in order to save its scaly hide. The Serpent's eyes darted around, seeking an escape. "Perhaps we can discuss this—"

However, when the other ogres roared in rage upon seeing their leader downed, it knew that such an opportunity had passed. The Serpent coated itself with [Invisibility] magic, and tried to slither away.

It was for naught. Aura's eyes, ears, and nose were all too sharp, and no misbegotten forest snake could escape her.

She quickly caught it with a lasso around its neck, pulling it back. "Not so fast," she said, her voice filled with amusement, while the serpent tried desperately to resist, choking and gasping for air all the while.


The Giant's minions, a group of ogres, lunged forward, but Nabe was ready. She unleashed a barrage of lightning bolts, cutting down the ogres with ease. The creatures fell, their bodies smoking and twitching from the electric onslaught.

The Giant, somehow, was still alive though. He pushed himself off the ground, and took out the giant sword embedded in his chest, before throwing it away. His pride wounded, but his chest cavity regenerating, he charged at Momon with a massive club, a terrifying war cry being emitted from his disgusting and filthy throat, hoping to get revenge. Yet it was again, all for naught.

The club was lifted into the sky and was heading straight for Momon's shiny white skull. Yet before it could crush said skull… it bounced off an invisible barrier, like a child jumping on a trampoline.

Confusion grew, yet its rage was unrelenting, and it continued to strike.

Each blow was nullified by Momon's resistance to low-level physical attacks. The troll's frustration grew with every failed attempt.

"Foolish creature," Momon said, not moving from his spot. "You think you can harm me?"

"Die, undead!" the Giant roared, his attacks growing more desperate.

Momon studied the Giant, all the while contemplating how something this stupid could even breathe. Eventually, he remembered a well-known Yggdrasil fact, one stating that trolls were creatures that had very high health regeneration. Curious about its regenerative abilities, and whether or not they would carry over into this New World, he decided to experiment. He sliced off the troll's leg, watching in fascination as it grew back in real time. The Giant moaned and screamed, begging for mercy as Momon continued to experiment, dicing and slicing the troll's body while it regenerated constantly, always in pain.

"What sort of troll are you?" Momon mused aloud, his tone detached and scientific. "Your regeneration is remarkable."

Lupusregina finished burning a stray ogre to ash with her holy magic as her stomach growled. "I'm hungry," she said, a wicked grin spreading across her face.

"Hungry? Hmm… Oh, go on ahead. I am curious to see how far his regeneration goes."

As the fight reached its climax, Guu the Troll lay sprawled on the ground, his monstrous body wracked with pain from Momon's relentless attacks. Blood flowed freely, soaking the ground, yet the creature's innate regeneration was already knitting his wounds back together. His eyes, wild with desperation, darted toward Lupu, who was watching with an eerie calm.

Lupu stepped back, her usual playful demeanor shifting to something darker and more primal. The air around her seemed to crackle with energy as she began to transform. Her ginger hair rippled like fire in the wind, shifting and elongating, while her body contorted and reshaped. Muscles bulged beneath her skin, and claws elongated, taking the place of her fingertips.

In moments, Lupu had morphed into a fearsome werewolf. Her eyes blazed a striking amber, filled with a predatory glint that sent chills down Guu's spine. Her fur was a deep russet, almost shimmering in the dappled light of the forest. Powerful limbs and a long, sinuous tail accentuated her ferocity, while sharp fangs glistened menacingly as she bared her teeth in a predatory snarl. Beauty and power, grace and terror, the perfect huntress, and she was hungry.

As Lupu finished her transformation, a feral grin spread across her face, revealing sharp teeth glistening with anticipation. "This is going to be so much fun!" she growled, a wild glint in her amber eyes, hinting at the bloodlust coursing through her veins.

Guu, already trembling from the pain of his injuries, let out a whimper, instinctively shrinking back from the sight of the transformed Lupu. The Serpent, still ensnared, stared wide-eyed at the display, realization dawning on him that they were facing not just any adversary but a true terror of the forest. He only then understood that they never even stood a chance.

"Y-you can't be serious!" the Serpent hissed, its voice laced with fear. "This isn't fair! Where do you people even come from!?"

Ignoring the Serpent's protest, Lupu lunged at Guu, her movement a blur of muscle and fur. She tore into his regenerating flesh with a fury that belied her earlier playful nature. Her claws raked through the air, slashing at the Troll's exposed wounds, and despite his regeneration, the sheer force of her attack kept him reeling.

Guu screamed in agony, each new gash a reminder of his own helplessness. He tried to fend her off, swinging his fists wildly, but Lupu was too swift, dodging his blows effortlessly. Her growls filled the air as she dove in again, sinking her teeth into the Troll's shoulder, ripping a chunk of flesh free. Guu's eyes bulged, shock replacing his anger as he realized he could do little more than endure this torment.

"Guu! What have you done to deserve this?" the Serpent cried, utterly flabbergasted.

Guu's response was cut off as Lupu dug her claws deep, leaving behind a trail of blood and fur. Even as the Giant's body attempted to heal, Lupu's relentless assault rendered his regeneration futile. She relished the moment, a gleeful spark in her golden eyes as she feasted on the very essence of fear and desperation emanating from her quarry.

With every bite and slash, Lupu reveled in the chaotic dance of power, her movements fluid and relentless. The forest trembled with the echoes of her savage feast, the sounds mingling with Guu's anguished cries as he fought to regenerate against the onslaught.

Finally, as the Troll's heart faltered under the strain of continuous injury, Lupu withdrew momentarily, her eyes glimmering with satisfaction as she observed the once-mighty beast reduced to a pitiful heap, too weakened to regenerate any longer. At some point, he simply gave up and accepted his doom.

As the final cries of Guu faded, Lupu's eyes blazed with a wild hunger. She turned her feral gaze toward the Serpent, who trembled in fear. "I can smell your fear!" she snarled, her voice a low growl filled with anticipation.

Aura instinctively jumped back, eyes wide, as Lupu lunged. "Lupu, no!" she shouted, but her warning fell on deaf ears.

Momon and Nabe sprang forward, intent on saving the Serpent from the imminent onslaught. "Stop her!" Momon commanded, his voice echoing with authority.

But Lupu was already upon the Serpent, her primal instincts overwhelming any restraint. "Time for meat!" she hissed, the thrill of the chase coursing through her.

In a heartbeat, Lupu pounced, claws slicing through the air as she sank her teeth into the Serpent's neck. Blood sprayed across the forest floor, painting the scene in vivid crimson.

With a final, desperate gasp, the Serpent's struggles ceased, its body going limp as Lupu reveled in the taste of victory. She stepped back, panting slightly, her fur matted with the remnants of her bloody feast. Throwing her head back, she let out a haunting howl that echoed through the trees—a primal declaration of dominance that resonated with both victory and the raw madness lurking beneath her surface.

Momon watched impassively. "Well, that was quick," he remarked, acknowledging the swift end of their captive.

Nabe shook her head, a hint of venom in her voice. "Disappointing. He could have proved useful."

Aura, still reeling from the spectacle, realized that Lupu's bloodlust had overtaken her, leaving behind a chilling reminder of the ferocity that lay within the cheery exterior.


AN: I am finally here, in Konstanz. The website is shit and bugged so I can't schedule an appointment in the citizens bureau to register my address. But I can't see anyone there in the office if I don't have an appointment, as I asked when I went there today, to their office, myself, in person. Lovely. German bureaucracy is truly something to behold in terror.

 

[BenMalek]

Sogni di Giorni Migliori​

Perska woke with a start, her body tensed and her heart pounding in her chest. The memories of the previous night were a blur of pain and fear, but the contrast between her current surroundings and the cold, damp cell she had been confined to was undeniable. The room she now occupied was small and cozy, bathed in the warm glow of sunlight filtering through a window. The bed she lay on was soft, the sheets clean and fragrant. It was a stark contrast to the harsh conditions of her imprisonment.

She sat up slowly, wincing at the soreness in her body, and took in her surroundings. The room was simply furnished, with a wooden table and a couple of chairs. A pitcher of water and a cup sat on the table, alongside a plate of fresh bread and fruit. Perska's stomach growled, reminding her of how hungry she was. She reached for the water, her hand trembling slightly, when the door creaked open.

A figure entered the room, moving with an elegance that caught Perska's attention. The woman was tall, with long, silver-gold hair and distinct elf-like ears. Her eyes, a striking shade of gold, radiated a calming presence that eased some of Perska's anxiety. This was clearly the person who had saved her.

"Good morning," the woman said, her voice gentle and soothing. "How are you feeling?"

Perska hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. "Better... I think. Thank you for saving me."

The woman smiled faintly, her expression filled with warmth. "I'm glad to hear it. My name is Remiel. What is yours?"

"Perska," she replied softly, still wary but grateful.

Remiel nodded and took a seat on the edge of the bed. "Perska, if you're up to it, I have some questions. I understand if you're not ready to talk about everything just yet."

Perska took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. "I'll try," she said, her voice shaky but resolute.

"Can you tell me where you're from?" Remiel asked gently.

Perska's gaze grew distant as she began to recount her past. "I'm from the forest village of Ylindor. It was a beautiful and peaceful place, built high in the treetops to protect against the forest monsters. The village was like a sanctuary among the trees, with wooden houses and walkways suspended high above the ground. Below us, the forests were dense and full of dangerous creatures. Hunters would go down to hunt smaller monsters and animals for food, but they always avoided the larger, more dangerous ones. We had gardens in the treetops where we grew fruits and vegetables. The soil was brought up from the ground and carefully tended in wooden boxes. The village was always so calm and safe, or at least, it used to be."

Remiel nodded, her expression a mix of curiosity and sympathy. "It sounds like a lovely place. What was it like before the attack?"

Perska's face clouded with sadness as she continued. "Life in Ylindor was peaceful. We had festivals and gatherings, and everyone worked together to keep the village running smoothly. I remember playing with friends, climbing the wooden walkways, and helping my mother with the gardens. Everything was so normal and comforting."

Her voice faltered slightly. "But that night... everything changed. I was asleep in my bed when I was suddenly woken up by loud noises and the smell of smoke. I got up and looked outside, and that's when I saw the flames. The soldiers from the Theocracy had come. They were dressed in heavy armor that made it nearly impossible for our warriors and archers to fight them off. Their magic was terrifying. They summoned horrible creatures that attacked everything in their path."

Perska's eyes grew distant as she relived the nightmare. "I was paralyzed with fear at first. I stood there, unable to move, watching as the village I loved was destroyed. I saw my cousin, Aric, try to shoot an arrow at a soldier, but the arrow just bounced off his armor. It was like nothing could stop them."

Remiel's eyes showed deep concern. "It must have been horrifying."

Perska nodded, tears forming in her eyes. "It was. My father was out there, fighting with a spear to defend our home. I saw him fall to the ground, and I couldn't do anything to help him. My mother was trying to protect me, but the soldiers grabbed her. She was screaming as they dragged her away, and I tried to run to her, but I was caught by one of the soldiers."

Remiel's expression darkened with empathy and anger. "I'm so sorry you had to experience that."

Perska wiped her tears and continued. "The village was engulfed in flames. The slavers came amidst the chaos, taking advantage of the confusion. They captured anyone they could find, including me. I was sold from one master to another until I ended up with that man."

Remiel's eyes softened with sympathy. "I'm deeply sorry for your loss. No one should have to go through such suffering."

Perska took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "Thank you. I don't know what I would have done without your help."

Remiel leaned forward, her gaze steady and reassuring. "You don't need to repay me. Just focus on recovering. We'll figure out the next steps together."

Perska hesitated, a burning question on her lips. "Miss... what happened to the man who bought me?"

Remiel's expression became serious, her voice carrying a steely edge. "He won't be causing any more problems. Ever."

Perska nodded absent-mindedly. Remiel spoke up once more and asked Perska another question. "Would you like to get up and see the garden? It might be nice to get some fresh air. You can take the food with you if you want."

Remiel led Perska outside into a lush garden that was a haven of tranquility. The garden was a vibrant display of colors, with various flowers blooming in neat rows and clusters. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blossoms, and the gentle buzz of bees added to the serene atmosphere.

"This is my garden," Remiel said with a smile. "I guess you can call it an inheritance from my father. He built it for me, just like how he built the small house you woke up in. There's a variety of plants here. They're all useful in one form or another. They can be used for healing, cooking, even making dyes, or to just add beauty to a surrounding."

Perska's eyes widened in awe as she took in the myriad of flowers. Her gaze was immediately drawn to a cluster of delicate blue flowers with star-like white specks. "Those!" she exclaimed, pointing. "We had those in Ylindor! We called them 'Spotted Blues.' They were used for healing."

Remiel's eyes brightened with interest. "Yes, those are Starlight Lilies. They are indeed known for their healing properties. It's fascinating how some plants have similar names and uses in different places."

Perska's excitement grew as she moved from flower to flower. "And those," she said, pointing to a vibrant yellow flower with a rugged appearance. "We had something like that too. We called it 'Sunfire Bloom.'"

Remiel looked at the flower with a nod. "That's a Sunflare Marigold. It's used to boost energy and mood. It's interesting to see the similarities."

Perska then noticed a cluster of iridescent flowers with an almost frosted appearance. "Those are so beautiful. We didn't have anything like them in Ylindor. What are they called?"

Remiel smiled and gestured towards the flowers. "These are Frostpetal Orchids. They are used to treat fevers and inflammatory conditions. Their essence can help regulate body temperature."

Perska admired the flowers, her eyes shining with curiosity. "I've never seen these before. They're so unique."

Remiel nodded, appreciating Perska's interest. "And these," she said, pointing to a delicate, glowing flower with soft lavender petals. "Are Moonshade Blossoms. They are used to soothe anxiety and aid sleep. They add a gentle light to the garden at night."

Perska looked at the flowers, their soft glow casting a calming effect. "They're lovely. They remind me of some of the calming herbs we used to have in Ylindor."

Remiel noticed Perska's growing sense of wonder and gently inquired, "You seem to have a good knowledge of plants. Are you an apothecary?"

Perska shook her head. "No, I'm not. But I did help my mother with the plants and herbs in our village."

Remiel smiled softly. "Well, I'm not an apothecary either, but I am a healer. I treated your wounds when you were brought here. Did you notice?"

Perska's face lit up with gratitude. "Yes, I did. Thank you."

Remiel's expression turned thoughtful. "I want to make sure you're well-protected. Would you like a guardian? I can summon one for you."

Perska looked at Remiel with a mix of curiosity and hope. "A guardian?"

Remiel nodded, raising her hand and beginning to speak.

"[Skill: Heavenly Host - Brave Lion!]", and a golden light began to take shape in front of them. From the light emerged a majestic lion, its fur shimmering with a golden hue.

"This is a Brave Lioness," Remiel explained as the lioness roared softly, her blue eyes scanning the garden with a protective gaze. "She'll be your guardian for a while, ensuring your safety and providing companionship. Not that you need much protection here, as you're safe enough, but it's always nice to have a friend, don't you think?"

The lioness approached Perska and nuzzled her gently. The warmth of her fur brought a comforting sensation. Perska tentatively reached out, feeling the softness beneath her fingers. She couldn't help but smile as she felt a surge of reassurance.

Perska giggled at the lioness's affectionate behavior. "Thank you, Remiel," she said, her voice filled with emotion. "I feel so much better knowing I have someone watching over me."

Remiel smiled, her eyes showing a hint of relief. "You're welcome. We'll take things one step at a time. For now, eat well, rest, and enjoy the garden. Get to know your new guardian—she'll stay with you indefinitely."

Perska nodded repeatedly, her face brightening with each nod.

"Wait, are you going somewhere?" Perska asked, her voice tinged with concern.

"I have work to do," Remiel replied. "Remember how, in the auction house, there were others like you? Others who were sold into slavery?"

"Yes, I remember," Perska said.

"Well, I'm going to visit them. I know where they are, and I plan to offer them a place here, after dealing with their self-styled masters. Some might want to strike out on their own or return home, but those who accept will join you here until we can arrange a more permanent situation."

"Oh, that's fine. Please come back soon, okay?"

"I will. I promise," Remiel said, then she disappeared in a flash of blue light.

---

That very same morning…


The sun hung high over the Re-Estize Capital, casting its warm rays over the bustling streets and imposing structures. Within the sturdy walls of the royal palace's training grounds, the air was filled with the rhythmic clashing of steel and the grunts of exertion from knights and soldiers honing their skills. Among them, two figures stood out: Gazef Stronoff, the Kingdom's strongest warrior and captain of the warrior troopers, and Climb, the loyal and determined squire of Princess Renner.

Sweat glistened on Gazef's brow as he parried Climb's sword thrust with practiced ease, his movements fluid and precise. Climb, on the other hand, was relentless in his attacks, pushing himself to his limits under the watchful eye of his mentor. The sound of their clashing blades resonated through the training ground, drawing the attention of a few onlookers who admired the prowess of their kingdom's mightiest warrior and the dedication of the young squire.

"You're improving, Climb," Gazef remarked, his voice steady despite the intensity of their sparring. "Your strikes are more precise, and your footwork has become more confident."

Climb paused for a moment, lowering his sword and catching his breath. "Thank you, Sir Gazef. I owe it all to your guidance."

Gazef smiled, a rare expression that softened his usually stern features. "You've got the heart of a true warrior, Climb. Never lose that determination."

They resumed their training, Gazef intentionally slowing his movements to allow Climb to analyze and adapt to his techniques. As they continued, Gazef's thoughts wandered back to the recent events in Carne Village. The encounter with Ainz Ooal Gown and the mysterious magic caster who single-handedly turned the tide of battle weighed heavily on his mind.

Climb lunged forward with a determined strike, which Gazef deftly sidestepped, tapping Climb's sword aside with his own. "Good, good. You're learning to read your opponent's movements," Gazef said, his tone encouraging.

"Sir Gazef," Climb began, his voice slightly strained from the effort of their sparring, "I've heard about the incident in Carne Village. Can you tell me more about what happened?"

Gazef's grip on his sword tightened as he parried another of Climb's attacks. "It was... unexpected," he started, his voice carrying a hint of the weight he felt from the encounter. "The village was under attack by the Empire's knights, but they were repelled by a powerful magic caster named Ainz Ooal Gown. His power was overwhelming, and his presence commanded respect and fear in equal measure."

Climb's eyes widened, clearly intrigued. "What was he like, Sir Gazef? What kind of power did he wield?"

Gazef sheathed his sword and motioned for Climb to do the same. They walked over to a nearby bench, where Gazef took a seat, his expression pensive. "It's difficult to put into words. I didn't actually see him wield magic in person. I did see one of his summons, though. He summoned a Death Knight, a great black undead monstrosity of bone and steel that, based on the villagers' testimony, was able to cut down knights with ease. But it wasn't just his strength that left an impression—it was his demeanor. He carried himself with an air of confidence and authority, as if he was certain of his superiority."

Climb listened intently, absorbing every word. "So you didn't see him fight directly?"

Gazef shook his head. "No, I did not. When the Theocracy's assassins encircled the village, he gave me a wooden idol, which I initially thought was a good luck charm or some magic item. Later, I discovered that it was the means by which Ainz saved me. One moment I was facing certain death, and the next I was back in safety. I did not see the battle myself, but when I arrived at the scene, the devastation spoke of powerful magic. The ground was scorched, and there were signs of immense magical force."

Climb's eyes were wide with amazement. "What were his servants like? I've heard he had one with him."

"Yes, there was a servant, but I did not get their name. They were incredibly powerful and loyal to Ainz, most likely, though I didn't get to speak with them at length, sadly. One of them healed my wounds after the battle before I lost consciousness. Still, I am certain that such a powerful magic caster would not have weak or disloyal servants."

Climb frowned, deep in thought. "Do you think he's a threat to the kingdom, Sir Gazef?"

Gazef's eyes hardened, his resolve clear. "That depends on what you mean by threat. If you refer to strength, then yes. Without a doubt. If Ainz Ooal Gown decides to turn his power against Re-Estize, we would be hard-pressed to defeat him. I estimate his personal power alone is worth thousands of soldiers, and if he is capable of teleportation, he is most assuredly capable of flight as well, which means pinning him down will be extremely difficult even if we have magic casters on our side to fight against him, which I see as unlikely due to the political climate. But it's not just his strength that concerns me. It's his intentions. I couldn't discern whether he was an ally or an enemy waiting for a specific chance to strike."

"That's not good. We should find out more about him, don't you think?" Climb asked.

"We should, but it's hard to track such a man down. I invited him to come to the capital and meet the king, as the king would no doubt reward him for the services done for our kingdom, but alas, he has not arrived yet, and I doubt he'll show up unless it's for some other purpose."

Climb's expression mirrored Gazef's concern. "What should we do, Sir Gazef? How can we prepare for someone like him?"

Gazef placed a reassuring hand on Climb's shoulder. "We continue to train, to grow stronger. We stay vigilant and gather as much information as we can about Ainz Ooal Gown and his motives. And most importantly, we stand united. The kingdom must be ready to face any threat, no matter how formidable, and no matter if it's internal or external."

Climb nodded firmly, determination burning in his eyes. "I'll do whatever it takes to protect Princess Renner and the kingdom, Sir Gazef. I'll keep training and improving."

Gazef's smile returned, a glimmer of pride in his eyes. "I have no doubt you will, Climb. You have the potential to become a great warrior, perhaps even one day standing as a shield for those you care about."

As they continued their conversation, Climb hesitated before speaking again. "Sir Gazef, if I may, I've been thinking... The nobles, they often act in their own interest rather than the kingdom's. Shouldn't we be more forceful in dealing with them?"

Gazef's expression grew serious, before his eyes darted to the left and right. "Climb, what you speak of is a dangerous topic, even here. Yes, it's true that many nobles are self-serving and corrupt, but we must tread carefully. The political landscape is delicate. Acting rashly could do more harm than good."

"But Sir Gazef," Climb protested, "they hinder our efforts and put the kingdom at risk. We can't just stand by and let them continue."

Gazef shook his head. "I understand your frustration, Climb, but the reality is more complicated. We need the support of the nobles to maintain stability. If we push too hard, we risk creating more enemies than allies. It's a delicate balance. And besides, it's not all of them who are like that. There's good and decent nobles, they just don't tend to attract attention."

Climb's shoulders slumped slightly, but he nodded in understanding. "I see, Sir Gazef. I'll do my best to navigate this carefully."

Gazef placed a hand on Climb's shoulder. "Good. Remember, strength isn't just about fighting. It's also about knowing when to use that strength and when to show restraint. We're warriors, but we're also protectors of the kingdom. Our duty is to serve and safeguard our people, even if it means making difficult choices."

---

Megaera and Hector had arrived in Baharuth just before dawn, the bustling city still shrouded in the early morning mist. The grandeur of the capital was unlike anything Megaera had ever seen. Towering buildings of stone and glass, streets filled with merchants and travelers, and the ever-present aura of magic that seemed to hang in the air.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Hector remarked, his eyes scanning the cityscape with a mixture of awe and determination.

"Indeed," Megaera replied, her thoughts already drifting towards the challenges that lay ahead at the Imperial Magic Academy.

They navigated through the busy streets, making their way towards the academy. The closer they got, the more the city seemed to transform. The buildings grew grander, the streets cleaner, and the people more refined. It was clear they were entering a different part of Baharuth, a place reserved for the elite and the powerful. Yet, despite the location of the Academy itself, she knew that in that place, only skill was necessary. Whether one was nobleborn or common did not matter.

By the time they reached the academy gates, the sun had fully risen, casting a golden light over the impressive structure. The academy, renowned for its rigorous standards and unparalleled education in the arcane arts, stood as a beacon of prestige and power. Acceptance into the academy was a coveted honor, restricted primarily to Baharuth citizens on scholarships. Non-citizens faced an additional hurdle: securing a residency permit, a process as daunting as the academy's entrance exams themselves.

Megaera, determined and resolute, stood among the aspiring magic casters. The conversations with her fellow travelers on the road here constantly played out in her mind, filling her with doubt, but puffed up her chest, faking confidence until it was indistinguishable from the real thing.

Her eyes took in the grand architecture of the academy, a testament to centuries of magical mastery and academic excellence. The towering spires and intricately carved stonework seemed to hum with latent power.

The academy grounds were filled with hopefuls, all eager to prove their worth. The entrance examinations had recently been extended, with an additional layer of challenge: a duel. Applicants would have to demonstrate their magical prowess not just through written exams and practical tests, but also by facing off against each other in combat.

As Megaera walked towards the main hall, she overheard whispers about the burning mansion from the previous night. The rumors spread quickly, as did the outlandish tales of what exactly happened, why it happened, and to whom it happened.

The incident had created quite a stir, with rumors of malicious actors spreading like wildfire. Unbeknownst to her, Grand Master Fluder Paradyne, the very person who had founded the Imperial Magic Academy, had taken an interest in the disturbance, hoping it might reveal a new source of magical potential.

Inside the main hall, the sense of awe deepened. The walls were lined with portraits of past graduates and esteemed faculty, but one figure stood out above all—the Grand Master Fluder Paradyne. The reverence towards him was palpable, his presence a constant reminder of the heights they aspired to reach.

The written exams began, testing their theoretical knowledge of magic. Megaera moved her quill swiftly, her mind sharp and focused. Questions ranged anywhere between how many types of magic there were, how many tiers of magic there were, the average time to learn a spell to historical questions about great magic casters and mighty beasts. After the written tests, they moved to the practical exams, where their magical abilities were pushed to the limit. Megaera felt a mixture of excitement and nerves as she showcased her skills, determined to stand out among her peers. All low level-spells, but necessary for any aspiring magic caster.

As the day progressed, the final challenge loomed large: the duel. The applicants were paired off, and Megaera found herself facing a confident and plain-looking young man named Marcellus. The duel was not just a test of power, but of strategy and skill. Megaera's heart pounded as she stepped into the arena, ready to prove her worth.

The dueling ground was a circular arena, surrounded by the watchful eyes of instructors and fellow applicants. Their duel was not the first that hour, nor would it be the last. As a matter of fact, combatants were not given any knowledge on who and when they would be fighting. They would all be gathered and observe the fighting, and once the duel between one pair was over, the announcer would announce the next.

Who was permitted entry and who was not was a mystery, as the results were not revealed instantly. Would Megaera be accepted if she lost the duel? Would she be accepted even if she did?

The thoughts rushed around in her mind, anxiety filling her, her mind running frantically.

The ground was marked with runes designed to absorb and nullify excessive magical force, ensuring the safety of the participants. Spells could not progress past an invisible barrier, though people themselves could leave or enter at will, though leaving would constitute an immediate surrender. A young blue-haired woman had lost the previous fight, as the man that fought her conjured up a rather devastating looking chunk of stone that moved at incredible speed. The stone's destination was aimed right at her head, and would likely have killed her, had it not been for the arena's protection, and the girl jumping backwards out of bounds, thus saving her head at the cost of forfeiting the fight.

Would this fight be much the same?

Megaera and Marcellus took their positions at opposite ends, the tension in the air palpable.

"Begin!" an instructor called out, and the duel commenced.

Marcellus was the first to act, raising his hands and speaking quickly. A small bolt of fire formed between his palms and shot towards Megaera. She responded swiftly, drawing upon her training. With a wave of her hand, she conjured a shield of shimmering pink energy, the fireball splashing harmlessly against it.

Not wasting a moment, Megaera countered with a spell of her own. She focused her energy and launched a bolt of blue arcane energy towards Marcellus. He rolled to the side, the bolt narrowly missing him and passing him by until it dissipated harmlessly against the arena's barrier.

The duel continued with a flurry of low-level spells. Marcellus conjured a gust of wind, attempting to throw Megaera off balance, which succeeded, but didn't do much, as Marcellus failed to launch a coup de grace in time. She quickly scrambled back on her feet before summoning a ray of frost, sending them flying towards her opponent. Marcellus easily blocked it with a shield spell.

Seeing that his straightforward attacks were not enough, Marcellus changed tactics. He chanted an incantation, summoning a spectral wolf. The ethereal creature appeared beside him, its glowing eyes fixed on Megaera.

The wolf lunged at Megaera, its jaws snapping. Megaera reacted quickly, her hands igniting with magical flames. "[Burning Hands]!" she shouted, thrusting her palms forward. A cone of fire erupted from her hands, engulfing the spectral wolf. The creature howled in agony before dissipating into a cloud of smoke.

"Impressive," Marcellus remarked, a hint of respect in his voice. "You're surprisingly competent."

Megaera nodded, her eyes focused. "You're not bad yourself."

Marcellus, undeterred, began another incantation. This time, he summoned a spectral crow, its dark form cawing menacingly as it swept towards Megaera's eyes. Megaera remained calm, her eyes narrowing as she focused. "[Magic Missile]," she intoned, and two darts of magical energy shot forth from her hand, homing in on the crow. The missiles struck the spectral bird, shattering it into fragments of light.

"Quick thinking," Marcellus acknowledged, a slight smile on his lips.

"You too," Megaera replied, her expression determined.

As the duel wore on, it became clear that both Megaera and Marcellus were well-matched in skill and determination. The crowd watched in hushed anticipation, each spell casting a glow over the arena. Despite their novice status, the two duelists demonstrated impressive control and creativity with their magic. After all, compared to those who could cast no magic at all, they were very impressive. Reaching even the 1st tier of magic was considered a success, and the 2nd tier even more so.

Megaera decided it was time to change tactics. She raised both her hands in the air before she released a burst of blinding light, a simple yet effective spell designed to disorient.

Marcellus raised his arm to shield his eyes, momentarily blinded. Seizing the opportunity, Megaera closed the distance between them by a few steps and used [Magic Missile]. Seeing as he could not block the spell using [Shield], nor could he dodge [Magic Missile] like he could dodge projectile spells such as [Firebolt] by pure dumb luck, the two bolts collided with his body, and he cried out in pain but remained standing.

Not one to be outdone, Marcellus mimicked her and used a blinding light to confuse his opponent again. Megaera blinked rapidly, trying to regain her vision. In her disoriented state, she hastily cast [Ray of Frost], sending the icy spell towards where she thought Marcellus was standing. The spell hit, but the target dissipated into nothingness—it was an illusion.

Realizing she had been deceived, Megaera turned just in time to see a terrifyingly quick bolt of water hurtling towards her. With no time to react, she froze on the spot. The spell struck her in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her and sending her to the ground. She gasped for air, her hand clawing at the ground, and her body aching from the impact.

One blow, one devastating blow, and that's all it took to end the fight.

Megaera lifted her head, and saw the victor of the fight. He stood over her, extending a hand. "Surrender, Megaera. You've fought well."

Megaera, recognizing the end of the duel, nodded. "I surrender," she said, taking his hand and allowing him to help her to her feet.

The crowd erupted in applause as the instructor stepped forward to declare the winner. "The duel is over! Marcellus is the victor!"

Despite her disappointment, Megaera managed a respectful nod. "Well fought," she acknowledged.

Marcellus smiled, appreciating her sportsmanship. "You too, Megaera. But do you know why you lost?"

She shook her head. "Because you tricked me?"

"Well, there's that. But there are three main reasons. First, you didn't expect me to use subterfuge during the fight, despite my earlier summons showing I wasn't willing to fight fair."

"And the second thing?"

"Certain spells, especially offensive ones, do more than just raw damage—they have additional effects based on their nature. Fire heats the air, burns cloth, and can cauterize wounds. Frost can make the terrain slick, reduce visibility, or cut as well as steel. Water, much like stone, has physical weight. When something heavy collides with your stomach, it knocks the air out of you. If I had hit you with a firebolt, it would hurt more, but you probably would have still been able to continue the fight. Without air, though? Tough luck doing anything."

She nodded, her eyes widening as she realized the simplicity of the concept she had overlooked.

"And the last point?"

"You didn't risk enough, or perhaps you wanted to spare me pain. When I was blinded, you should have gone for Ray of Frost, even if there was a chance I could dodge by accident."

"Risk... Are you saying I can't be a good magic caster without taking risks?"

"You probably had to risk a few things just to come here, but do you know who risked more? He did." Marcellus nodded toward someone with his head.

As the duels concluded, a murmur spread through the hall. Fluder Paradyne had appeared, his wise eyes scanning the crowd. The academy members straightened, their respect for the Grand Master evident in their every movement. Megaera felt her heart skip a beat as she caught sight of him. There was a magnetic quality to Fluder, an aura of immense power and deep wisdom.

Fluder observed the duels with a discerning eye, searching for the spark of exceptional talent. When his gaze fell upon Megaera, she sensed a flicker of disappointment, almost imperceptible but unmistakable. Clearly, she was not what he was looking for, though he quickly masked his emotions behind a calm, composed demeanor. But when she saw that he had that exact same gaze when he looked at every other student, she didn't know what to think of it.

The day ended with a mixture of exhaustion and exhilaration. Megaera had passed the initial tests, and had a good showing in the duel even though she lost in the end, but the journey ahead was clear. The reverence from the academy members, the hushed whispers of awe from the applicants, all served to underscore the significance of the path she had chosen.

As the sun set, casting a golden glow over the academy grounds, Megaera felt a renewed sense of determination. She knew this was just the beginning. The path to greatness was fraught with trials, but she was prepared to face them all. The academy's gates, once imposing and daunting, now symbolized the start of her journey. With resolve burning brightly within her, Megaera stepped forward, ready to carve her own destiny within the hallowed halls of the Imperial Magic Academy.

Of course, that was assuming she was even accepted into the Academy… Something she wouldn't even know about until tomorrow.

But tomorrow, yes, tomorrow, she would find out where her destiny leads.

 

[BenMalek]

Iuramentum Fidelitatis​

After dropping off the elf girl back in my home in Nazarick, it was a straightforward task to return to the auction house using [Greater Teleportation]. In an instant, I was back in that disgusting den of sin where so much misery was born, where men and women were traded like dried bits of goat meat at the market. The guard presence was diminished, as nothing was being sold at that time, and the auction house was closed.

My sudden appearance in mid-air startled the guards. They stared at me, dumbfounded, before one of them finally found his voice.

"Who are you? How did you get here?" he demanded, gripping his weapon tightly.

I answered by launching a [Fireball] directly at him, incinerating him on the spot. The remaining guards quickly drew their weapons, but they were no match for me. I moved through them like a shadow, my strikes precise and lethal. One guard attempted to swing his sword, but I effortlessly dodged and slammed my fist into his chest, shattering his armor and sending him sprawling.

Another guard tried to attack from behind, but I spun around and delivered a swift kick to his head, snapping his neck. The rest of the guards hesitated, fear evident in their eyes, but their fate was already sealed. Within moments, all the enemy combatants lay dead, their lifeless bodies strewn across the floor.

The owner of the auction house, hearing the commotion, appeared just as I punched my hand through a guard's chestplate. His eyes widened in horror as he watched me pull my bloodied hand free, the guard collapsing to the ground.

He turned to run, but I used [Greater Teleportation] again and appeared right in front of him, blocking his escape.

"Please, have mercy!" he pleaded desperately, pissing himself as he begged like a dog, prostrated with his ugly nose pressed against the floor.

My response was simple. "Write me a list of every person you've ever sold a slave to, who they are, where they live, what they look like, and I'll be merciful."

"How merciful?" He asked with a whimper.

"...You get to live." I blinked at his question.

"And my business? I've worked… v-very hard to preserve it."

This man… A unique specimen, truly.

"Did you preserve your morality as well as your coin? If you had been diligent, you would have been able to have both. And then I would not be here." I answered him.

"Morality? In this economy?" The man answered me.


His pure unrestrained greed and lack of shame was humorous. I decided then that he'd live, purely as a lesson to others.

"Start writing or I'll take an eye." I responded and the man's fat forehead started sweating even more.

"But there are so many! You cannot expect me to remember them all!"

"It's a good thing you have records here, no? And besides, if you do not remember, I will simply dig through your memories until you do," I replied.

At that point, the man nodded and began thanking me for being so generous.

He set out and began digging through his records like a madman searching for gold—in this case, the gold being his prolonged existence. My presence looming over his shoulder certainly contributed to the speed at which he worked. Eventually, he found a big, fat book with over a hundred names inside.

I took it from his hands, opened it, and began to read. The names meant nothing to me.

"I do not know who these people are. I do not know anything about them," I told him.

"Please let me elaborate, great one," the man said sheepishly. "I will write down what they do, what they look like approximately, which slaves I sold them, and where they live. That should help you in your… endeavor."

"Make it so," I responded, handing the book back to him. He began writing furiously with his quill, listing the names of doomed men in his book of degeneracy. Some time later, he finished his work and bade me to check it.

"Here you have Alonsus Phallusarov, Minister of Stoneworks. He lives in a big mansion in the Noble Row, not far from the Sunrise Gate," he explained, pointing to the man's name in his book. "He's an old man, nearing 60, with receded white hair. He often visits the Temples if I recall correctly. I sold him a male elf slave three months ago for 170 gold coins, as you can see here. Everything is explained in detail."

I took the book and quickly flipped through the pages before putting it back in my inventory.

"Well…" I looked at the man, his form shrinking under my gaze. "What to do with you?"

"Benjamin. Benjamin Dover, great one."

"I didn't ask," I said. The words stung him, and he shrunk back even more. Now, what to do with this man? I said I would be merciful if he helped me, which he did, as this little book will undoubtedly help me gather the other slaves much faster, but he shouldn't get off scot-free.

"Indeed. I just have two questions for you. The first is this: castration or blinding? The second: your tongue or your hand?"

"What?"

"You get to live. Now the question is what do you want to lose. You're an evil bastard, you know that, right? I don't want your line to plague this world any longer, and leaving you clueless, forever blinded, is also a fitting punishment, but both at the same time is a bit too much. So you get to choose: your cock or your eyes."

"But that's—"

"And your tongue has spoken many evil things, speaking of living, breathing sentient beings as nothing more than bits of meat. Thus, you have no need of it. And your hand has reaped much gold by your evil deeds, so it's better that I cut it off. So, choose: your tongue or your hand?"

"But you promised me mercy!"

"This is mercy. I can also drag you back to the place I came from and ensure you are subjected to torment until you die, and even after you die. If I do that, your fate will be much worse than what I offer you now. You will be flayed alive and your organs played with as you lie strapped to a chair. You will be eaten by cockroaches, and once you inevitably die, your soul will be used as fuel to create an undead creature that will live in a perpetual state of torment until the end of time. We could do that, or… you can choose what you want to lose. And perhaps, spend the rest of your miserable life atoning for what you've done. But I doubt it."

Pure despair was written on the man's face.

He gulped.

---

Work can be draining. Exhausting. Depressing. It's all so… tiresome.

It's not even the physical aspect of it. It's the mental aspect of what I am doing that is so… taxing.

Going from one place I have visited to another is easy with the aid of magic, but going to a completely new place? Well… that requires me to have a very good mental image of what it looks like before I use Teleportation, or to have something to lock-on to(like an item or individual I know), or to have the coordinates, or to have the place be in my line of sight. If these conditions are not fulfilled, I have to go there myself. Which is, sort of, what I am doing now. Walking. Aimlessly. I'm not even going toward a specific target in the book.

Why is this a problem?

Beyond the fact that my time is limited and I have no desire to spend it flying around Arwintar only to smite the same type of scumbag again and again and again. I have no doubt they'll all be like the birds of a feather.

I need a quicker, more effective solution.

But how?

Hmm… I could… no, that wouldn't work.

Perhaps I could… No, no, it's too soon.

Ugh… this is so frustrating.

Should I seek the input of a third-party? But who?

Demiurge?

'Well, having the humans do what you want is easy! All you have to do is have their children be eaten alive in front of their mothers!'

Albedo?

'I don't understand why you even bother. The opportunity to die for Nazarick is a far greater glory than they deserve. Now, hurry up and kill all the humans so you can give me advice on how to seduce Lord Ainz before that vampire slut.'

Shalltear?

'Hurr durr, look at me, I'm Shalltear, the strongest Guardian! Never mind how my head is filled with cobwebs and the only things I'm proficient in are 50 variations of sexual immorality.'

No, advice from Nazarick won't help.

Perhaps a change of scenery is necessary? A change of topic as well? Perhaps I should focus less about slavery and how it is wrong, and more about working for Nazarick and acquiring minions that will help me in taking over this nation.

Yeah, that sounds right.

But where to?

The temples? No, definitely not. I've had enough of priests this week.

The Imperial Palace? They could have defenses, they probably do have defenses, perhaps even powerful enough to prevent me from sneaking around at ease.

The Magic Academy? That… does not sound like a bad idea actually.

To the Academy, then.

---

As I walked through the streets of Arwintar, my thoughts were on the Academy. The rumors I'd heard about its arcane secrets intrigued me. This journey was about understanding the Academy's role and perhaps gaining insights that would be beneficial in my broader quest. It was a diversion, a break from the relentless pursuit of slavers and other evildoers.

Passing through the bustling streets, I was lost in my own world, analyzing the data I had gathered and strategizing my next move. Suddenly, a familiar figure caught my eye. It was Megaera, the girl I met while traveling via caravan to Arwintar, walking purposefully towards the Academy, her demeanor filled with an anxious energy.

"Megaera?" I called out, my voice slicing through the noise of the city.

She turned, her eyes widening in surprise. "Daya? What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," I replied, with a hint of amusement. "I'm on my way to the Academy. I've heard interesting things about it. And you?"

"I'm heading there too," she said, a bit flustered. "I'm here to check the results of the entrance exams. I wasn't expecting to run into you."

"Lucky coincidence," I said, falling into step beside her. "May I escort you there?"

Megaera's surprise quickly turned to gratitude. "Of course. I'd appreciate the company."

As we walked, I couldn't help but notice the way Megaera seemed more relaxed in my presence. We chatted about various things—her concerns about the Academy, her hopes for the future, the testing she underwent yesterday during her entrance application, and my reasons for visiting. Her nervousness was palpable, but she was doing a good job of hiding it.

The Academy came into view, its towering spires and grand architecture a stark contrast to the surrounding cityscape. We approached the main building, where the results were posted. I accompanied Megaera to the bulletin board, where a small crowd had gathered, eagerly scanning the lists.

As we approached the bulletin board, I was keeping a casual watch on the surroundings when I noticed a rather old man dressed like a stereotypical wizard. He commanded respect by his very presence. I knew instantly who he was, even though I had never met him before. This was Fluder Paradyne, rumored 6th tier magic caster and servant of the Bloody Emperor, and he was weaving through the crowd with a sense of urgency. His eyes were intense, as if he was hunting for something—or someone—with a single-minded focus.

Megaera's voice broke through my thoughts. "I found it!" she exclaimed, her face lighting up with joy. "I've been accepted!"

"Congratulations," I replied, trying to ignore the prickling sensation at the back of my neck as Fluder's gaze fixed on me.

Before Megaera could react further, Fluder's demeanor changed abruptly. His eyes locked onto mine with a penetrating intensity, and he made a beeline towards us. The crowd seemed to part for him, as though his presence commanded an unspoken respect.

Without a word, Fluder reached us and, with a surprising forcefulness, grabbed both Megaera's and my hands. His grip was firm, and there was no room for resistance.

"Come with me," he said, his voice a low but urgent whisper, laced with a sense of command. He pulled us away from the crowd, moving with purpose and determination.

I exchanged a glance with Megaera, her expression one of confusion and mild alarm, but I gave a small nod, signaling that I was fine with following his lead. We were swiftly led through a series of corridors, away from the bustling areas of the Academy, until we reached a secluded room.

Fluder opened the door and ushered us inside, shutting it behind him with a decisive thud. The room was sparsely furnished but private, providing the perfect setting for an uninterrupted conversation.

Once we were alone, Fluder released our hands and took a step back, his eyes never leaving me. His gaze was a mix of awe and calculation, as if he was trying to piece together a puzzle he had long been obsessed with.

Now that we were in the secluded room, Fluder's urgency turned into a fervent curiosity. He paced back and forth for a moment before focusing intently on me, his eyes brimming with an almost desperate need for answers.

"Tell me," he began, his voice trembling with excitement, "where did you learn your magic? How did you come by such power? I've spent my entire life seeking the limits of magical knowledge, and now I find someone like you—an enigma, a beacon of potential. I must know everything."

Megaera glanced between us, her expression a mix of confusion and concern. She was clearly puzzled by Fluder's extreme reaction, her eyes darting between him and me. "Daya, who is this?" she asked softly, still trying to make sense of the situation.

I gave her a reassuring nod before turning back to Fluder, who was practically quivering with anticipation. His gaze was unwavering, his whole demeanor radiating an almost fanatical intensity.

Fluder took a step closer, his voice dropping to an almost reverent whisper. "Please, share with me your knowledge. I am ready to do anything to gain even a fraction of what you possess. I swear my allegiance, my service—anything you require. Just... enlighten me."

I could feel the weight of his desperation, and it made me pause for a moment. There was something both amusing and unsettling about his fervor. I spared at glance at Megaera, who looked absolutely confused at the events that were unfolding, before I decided to test just how far his obsession with magical knowledge went.

Raising my hand slowly, I clenched it into a fist. In an instant, the room's vibrant colors dimmed, leaving everything in a monochrome state. The sounds ceased, and even the smallest details-like the owl in its cage and the fly buzzing around the room-were frozen mid-motion. Fluder's eyes widened in shock as he witnessed the phenomenon.

Fluder saw all this, and his response was swift and decisive. He dropped to his knees. The man was in a state of utter disbelief and reverence. His eyes were locked onto me with a mixture of awe and worship. He was practically drooling, tears streaming down his face as he looked up at me, his voice barely a whisper.

"Holy Goddess! Unfathomable One! Ruler of the Abyss!" Fluder exclaimed, his voice trembling with every word. "Are you of the 8th tier!? No, this... this must be beyond that! The 9th tier? No, no, it's even greater than that! The 10th tier, the abyss of magic! It's beyond my wildest dreams!"

He continued to prostrate himself, his forehead slamming against the ground, his entire body trembling with awe. Fluder's hands were clenched tightly, his body quaking as he spoke of his devotion and desperation. He had been alone and self-taught for so long, his only guidance coming from old tomes and his own relentless pursuit of knowledge. The mere sight of my abilities, of me easily commanding one of the primordial forces of existence to stop at my will, was enough to shatter his previous understanding of magic.

"I've spent my entire life in pursuit of knowledge," he murmured, his voice quivering. "I once worshipped a god of magic in my youth, hoping for a glimpse of such power. But this—this is beyond anything I could have imagined. To meet you, to witness this... it must be destiny. I am yours to command, your servant in every way."

Megaera, frozen in time, remained suspended in her surprised expression, her confusion evident as she stood unmoving. The room's silence was profound, marked only by Fluder's fervent declarations and my own internal contemplation.

I let my wings remain unfurled, their radiance contrasting sharply with the monochrome world. The sheer brilliance of my display seemed to amplify Fluder's reverence, and I could see how deeply he had longed for a master to guide him.

I took a deep breath, trying to balance my own amusement with the gravity of the situation. "Fluder," I began, "your devotion is noted. I had hoped to speak with you and see if you could be a potential ally. It seems that our meeting was indeed fated."

Fluder's eyes widened further at my words, his voice a trembling whisper. "Fated... Yes, it must be. I swear my allegiance to you, now and forever! I will give you everything I have, and everything I am! I am even willing to become your perpetual slave if you will just teach me!"

At his words, I frowned for a brief moment. I disliked the term "slave," but I did not chastise him for it. Fluder's desperation was palpable, and his willingness to offer such an oath spoke volumes about his dedication.

With a sigh, I addressed him, my voice steady. "Very well. I accept your oath of fealty. Take my hand."

Fluder's head lifted slowly, his eyes filled with both hope and trepidation. He extended his hand, and I reached out, taking it gently. With a final, decisive gesture, I invoked [Greater Teleportation]. In an instant, we disappeared from the room, leaving behind the astonished Megaera and the now still room, which seemed to reverberate with the echoes of the extraordinary events that had just unfolded.

AN: Minion get!

 

[BenMalek]

Brani se​

As the world reformed around them, Remiel and Fluder found themselves on a serene, isolated hilltop. The mid-day sun cast a golden glow over the landscape, highlighting the vibrant greens of the grass and the distant, rolling hills. Birds chirped in the background, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of nearby trees. It was a peaceful setting, a stark contrast to the intensity of their previous encounter.

Fluder, still in awe from their previous exchange, took a moment to steady himself. His eyes scanned the horizon before returning to Remiel, who stood beside him with an air of calm confidence.

"Last night," Fluder began, his voice filled with reverence, "when I saw but a glimpse of your power for the first time, I rushed toward your location, hoping to meet you. I was too late. I lost hope that I would meet you again."

"Last night?" Remiel replied, raising an eyebrow.

"That fool at the mansion," Fluder explained. "I do not know why you went there, or why you decided to end his life, but it must have been for a good reason, for someone like you can make no mistakes."

Remiel's expression remained neutral as she listened. "And how did you know I was at the mansion?"

Fluder hesitated for a moment before responding. "My eyes... they are special. They allow me to see the magical potential of all beings, and all magical items. Yesterday I saw your power radiating across the city, and when you stopped moving, presumably when you arrived at the mansion, I set off towards your location. I knew I had to find you."

Remiel looked deep in thought for several seconds before nodding thoughtfully. "I see. That sounds like it could be very useful. Your eyes are indeed remarkable."

They stood in silence for a moment, the tranquil surroundings providing a stark contrast to the weight of their conversation. Eventually, Remiel broke the silence.

"Tell me about yourself, Fluder. Where are you from? How strong are you? Where did you learn magic, and how old are you?"

Fluder took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "I am over two hundred years old, born in Belmous Village, a place far to the south of here that was part of a useless and weak country. That place as well as that country were both destroyed by the Demon God of Insects, but luckily I survived the initial attack on my village. From there, I set off to find my way in life. As a young lad, I quickly learned magic from various teachers but was initially too weak to seek revenge or delve deeply into the arcane. My growth in wisdom and knowledge was a slow, grueling process, without shortcuts or guidance from grand tomes or ancient teachers."

Remiel listened intently, her gaze never leaving Fluder. "And what of your current strength?"

"I have reached the highest tier of magic known in this world, the sixth tier. I am also knowledgeable in the three magical arts, those being arcane, divine, and spiritual magic, and I know a more than a fair bit about various subjects such as divination, enchanting, necromancy, illusion, and so on and so forth, but a lot of that is merely things I know that can happen, but not things I myself can do." Fluder took a deep breath before continuing. "By all rights I am the most learned human magic caster. But I have always felt there was more, something beyond my reach. I built the Imperial Magic Academy alone, driven by my quest for truth and power. Despite my efforts, I am disappointed by my chosen disciples, none of whom I deem fit to inherit my legacy."

"And where do you come from, Great One?" Fluder asked, his curiosity evident. "How did you gain your strength?"

Remiel smiled enigmatically. "I was merely created this way."

"Created?" Fluder repeated, stunned.

"Yes," Remiel replied. "I am not of this world."

Fluder's eyes widened in amazement. "Can you tell me more?"

"Another time," Remiel said, her tone indicating the subject was closed for now.

Remiel then knelt and began to write symbols in the dirt. Fluder watched with keen interest as she formed the letters of the Latin alphabet.

"This," Remiel explained, "is the Latin alphabet. Many of the books you will need to read are written in this script. It is not a divine language, but it is the basis of dozens of written languages."

Fluder leaned closer, his curiosity piqued. "Is this alphabet used in magic?"

Remiel smiled. "Yes, it is. The knowledge I intend to share with you comes from many different scripts, but the Latin alphabet is the most widely used one. Well, it is one of the many human alphabets, at any rate. We are better off tackling those before moving on to the scripts of other races."

Fluder looked at the symbols with fascination. "Are these letters divine in nature?"

"No," Remiel replied. "The books of knowledge I will give you are written in many different scripts. The Latin alphabet is just the most widely used one because it forms the basis of many written languages. I would dare say that if you can't use recognize and read the symbols, you are functionally illiterate, which simply will not do for one of my servants."

Fluder absorbed this information, nodding slowly. "I understand. And you said your name was Daya, correct?"

Remiel paused, her expression thoughtful.

"Daya is merely a translation of one of the titles my father gave me. I cannot give out my true name to everyone, at least not yet, as it would potentially compromise me. My nature as an angel prevents me from uttering lies, so I am forced to use technicalities when concealing my identity. When I say, 'you can call me Daya,' it really means 'you can call me Radiant.' So, you can call me whatever you want. Daya, Remiel, Teacher, it makes no difference to me."

Fluder nodded, absorbing her words. "An angel, you say?" he mused, his eyes wide with wonder. "But all the angels I have ever seen were no more than mindless summons."

Remiel chuckled softly. "Comparing those angels to me is like comparing a candle to the sun. I am a Seraphim, a higher order of angel. "

Fluder's eyes gleamed with a mixture of awe and intellectual curiosity. "A Seraphim... I do not know what that word truly means, but it is evident that you are infinitely greater than those mindless puppets. Truly incredible. But tell me, what are your goals, your ambitions?"

Remiel simply smiled in response.

They continued their conversation, and Remiel's curiosity turned towards Fluder's knowledge of the current world. "Tell me, Fluder, what do you know about the yearly war with Re-Estize, and the Bloody Emperor's reforms?"

Fluder's expression softened, a hint of affection in his voice. "Emperor Jircniv is a remarkable leader. I have raised him since he was a boy, and I made sure to shape him into a wise ruler. His reforms have brought progress and stability to the empire. The yearly war with Re-Estize serves to keep the nobility in check and ensure the military remains strong, as well as eventually pave the way for a complete conquest of Re-Estize. Jircniv's methods may be harsh, but his love for the empire and his dedication to its improvement are undeniable. One needs only look at the state of the nation as proof. Before his ascent, Baharuth and Re-Estize were indistinguishable, but now they are night and day."

"And what of the subject of slavery? I have to say, I am rather disgusted by it." Remiel asked.

"The Emperor has taken steps to regulate and, in some cases, abolish certain forms of slavery," Fluder explained. "His personal opinion is that it is stupid and damages the coffers of the state as well as causing unnecessary strife. But it remains a deeply ingrained institution in our society. And by our society, I mean sapient beings throughout the region."

"Throughout the region? Explain." Remiel asked, a hint of fury seeping into her voice.

"Re-Estize banned slavery, but that is merely on paper. The Roble Holy Kingdom does not practice slavery, but their peasants are basically slaves anyway. Slavery is practiced in the Theocracy, as you probably know. It is not practiced in the Argland Council Nation, which lies far to the north-west, nor is it practiced in the Draconic Kingdom, which is our neighbor to the east, but for different reasons. Within Argland live many races, whereas the Draconic Kingdom is too poor and desperate to practice slavery on humans or elves. The dwarves in their mountains… they don't have slavery, if I recall correctly, but we haven't heard from them in a few years, so that may have changed. And the Elf Kingdom does practice slavery, or rather their monarch does. The Elf King is known for his cruel treatment of his people, and he is often rumored to take women against their will into his harem, and once they enter they rarely leave, living or dead."

Remiel exhaled deeply. "That… is problematic."

"As you say. Of course, these are the higher races. The beastmen are even worse. But little information comes here of their dealings and practices. And what little comes is often brutal. Child sacrifices, vile rituals, breeding farms, and possibly much worse…"

"Beastmen… guess that's also something I have to deal with…" Remiel muttered. "Enough about that topic for now. Tell me about the Slane Theocracy?"

"They are a powerful and secretive nation," Fluder said. "Their influence is vast, and they hold a deep-seated belief in human supremacy. They are also known for their advanced magic and summoning techniques. They've made numerous offers and entreatments toward me, to get me to join their nation, but I've always declined."

"Why?"

"Apart from the fact that they are proven liars? I saw no reason to sacrifice my freedom for something I would have no guarantee of getting. They promised they would give me knowledge, but I've never seen them hold up their end of the bargain in all my years."

Remiel nodded thoughtfully. "Very well then. Back to the Elf Kingdom. What do you know of the Elf King?"

Fluder's expression darkened. "He is a tyrant who rules with an iron fist. His cruelty is legendary, and his magical prowess is formidable. I know that he has a pet golem that is quite destructive, and I also know that he rarely takes to the field during their war, but when he does, he eradicates his opponents. It is even possible he is stronger than I am."

"Is he stronger than me?"

"I doubt it. The truly strong do not waste their time on idle pleasures or degeneracy like he does." Fluder replied.

"How accurate is this information?"

"Very. The Emperor employs many spies in his service. A great number of them do not know there are other spies of the Emperor near them, and an even greater number do not even know they work for the Emperor himself, though they probably suspect. The spy-network the Emperor has, as well as the various merchants and traders that bring news to the Imperial Court, keep the Emperor well-appraised of all he needs to know. And as his most trusted advisor, everything he knows, I know."

Remiel nodded thoughtfully, before letting a moment of silence fall upon the conversation. Afterwards, she began to speak once more.

"Tell me about things that happened in the past. Tell me about the Six Great Gods, the Eight Greed Kings, and the Thirteen Heroes?" Remiel asked. "Surely someone like you must know the truth, or at least bits of it, compared to what the temples say."

Fluder's eyes flickered with a mix of curiosity and respect. "The Six Great Gods are said to have founded the Slane Theocracy and brought order to a world of chaos."

"Do you believe they are actually gods?"

"I know they existed, and were very powerful beings, but beyond that, I could not say."

Remiel nodded. "Continue."

"The Eight Greed Kings were powerful beings who ruled the world with an iron fist, their greed ultimately leading to their downfall. It is said that at the height of their power, they ruled much of the known world. There are many ruins of their fallen empire, the greatest being the floating city of Eryuentiu, that gleams like a jewel in the southern deserts."

The statement caused Remiel to lift an eyebrow. "A floating city in the middle of a desert? We should visit such a place."

"It may be difficult. It is well defended, and I tried to go there in my youth. But… I believe that you may be capable of entering that place. Who knows what sort of knowledge is hidden away there?" Fluder stroked his beard contemplatively.

"Interesting. I'll keep that detail in mind. Continue, please."

"The Thirteen Heroes, on the other hand, are known for their role in defeating the Demon Gods. But much of what is known is shrouded in myth and legend. I have spent my life seeking the truth, but there are still many mysteries. I do know one thing for certain however. At least one of the Thirteen Heroes is still alive."

The angel's eyes gleamed with curiosity. "Oh? And who might that be?" She asked.

"Rigrit Bers Caurau. She is a member of the Thirteen Heroes and a renowned necromancer. I met her many years ago, when she was still young, and her mastery over the undead was truly awe-inspiring, even then. I have likely equaled or even surpassed her in raw magical power, but I cannot command the undead with the same proficiency she does. It is a skill that requires a different kind of mastery."

"Was she the strongest among the Thirteen?"

"No. I could not say who was the strongest objectively, as I did not spend much time with that group, but the three strongest were by far the leader, his sorceress friend, and the platinum-armored knight. I saw them fight once, and they were quite a spectacle. Alas, I have forgotten a decent amount, as unfortunately my mortal mind can only store so much information… Oh, I almost forgot to mention. There were more than Thirteen Heroes. In fact, it was closer to twenty, probably eighteen or so. But those heroes that went unmentioned were… undesirable to mention. Demihumans, or worse. The Slane Theocracy worked day and night to scrub all memory of them. It would not do to have the words 'beastman' and 'hero' in the same sentence unless in between stood also the words 'was killed by'.

Remiel nodded, absorbing the information. "Interesting. So much knowledge has been lost, by the looks of it.And your disciples?" she asked. "Are any of them promising?"

Fluder sighed, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "My brightest student, Sophie, is only of the fourth tier and is a bit of a pervert. Another genius, Arche, dropped out due to family issues. Karl, who had incredible potential, died in a failed experiment. None have shown the promise I had hoped for."

"How did your student die?"

"The idiot blew himself up. Why do you ask?"

"Well, it may be possible to bring him back to the land of the living."

Fluder's jaw dropped.


"But…how? He's been dead for…years. His bones are the only thing that's left of him."

"Well, that's why I said 'it may be possible'. It's something I wish to confirm, and soon. But enough about that topic, the boy is as you said, dead. He isn't going anywhere."

Fluder let out a chuckle. "Indeed. He can wait. A week a month, a year, makes no difference to him. Though I must beg to also be present when you perform that miracle. I have never heard of someone being resurrected despite being dead for years."

"Well, dear Fluder, stick with me and you'll see and hear plenty of things that you thought were impossible."

Fluder bowed his head in respect.


Remiel walked toward a stone and took a seat upon it, before gesturing for the wizened magic caster to come closer. "And what are your goals and ambitions now, Fluder? What do you seek to achieve?"

Fluder's gaze met Remiel's, filled with a newfound sense of purpose. "I seek to learn from you, to gain the power I have always sought. I am willing to become your student if you will teach me magic. I am willing to provide you with all the knowledge I have gained over my many long years, and to do all that you ask of me."

Remiel smiled, a rare expression that softened her usual stern demeanor. "Very well. But before you can learn from me, I must learn from you. I must know everything there is to know, not just about Baharuth and its neighbors, but also about you yourself. I need to know how many spells you know, what you can do with them, what kind of magic items are in your possession. In other words, I need to know who Fluder is, before Fluder can become someone else."

Fluder's eyes were open with wonder and awe at the profound wisdom he had heard. His voice trembling, he spoke.

"You mean to tell me… that you, you who are so much greater than I am, would willingly learn about myself, about my flaws, just so that you can teach me better?"

Remiel nodded eagerly. "Of course. What kind of teacher would I be if I did not?"

"Magnificent… You really are magnificent. I"ll begin writing immediately once we get back to Arwintar. I'll have numerous books detailing everything you wish to know. Baharuth, the history of the world, what I can do. Everything you wish to know, you shall." Fluder said as he bowed his head.

A small chuckle escaped Remiel's lips. "You may not agree after what is about to happen. I do want to know all those things you mentioned, of course, but I also want to see what you can do with my own eyes."

Fluder lifted his gaze off the ground, as his steely gray eyes made contact with Remiel's blazing gold. "What do you mean?" He croaked out.

In response, Remiel extended her hand as it was swallowed up by a living void, a black hole in the fabric of reality, and from it she withdrew what appeared to be a wooden staff, roughly two meters long, plain and undecorated.

"Defend yourself." She said, and Fluder's heart began to race.

---

Fluder took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. He knew that facing Remiel, even in a demonstration, would be unlike any challenge he had ever encountered. Raising his hands, he began to layer defensive spell after defensive spell upon himself, which Remiel let him do so freely.

With each successive cast, Fluder felt less and less naked. Buffs to magical penetration, to his luck, to his resistances, and many more, were applied; one after the other. At last, Fluder cast a protective barrier around himself. Translucent and shimmering with arcane light, it enveloped him like a second skin. He then conjured three orbs of fire, which hovered around him, ready to strike at his command.

Remiel observed with a keen eye, noting the precision and speed of Fluder's spellcasting. She remained still, her expression unreadable as she waited for him to make the first move.

With a flick of his wrist, Fluder cast [Magic Missile] and six missiles shot out towards Remiel. The projectiles streaked through the air, unerring in their aim. But before they could reach their target, Remiel raised her staff and drew a quick, precise symbol in the air. A pulse of energy emanated from the staff, and the missiles disintegrated into harmless sparks.

Fluder's eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't hesitate. He quickly followed up with a barrage of ice shards, each one sharp enough to pierce steel. Remiel's response was swift and effortless. She twirled her staff, creating a vortex of wind that caught the ice shards and sent them spiraling away harmlessly. Her movements were fluid, almost dance-like, and Fluder couldn't help but be mesmerized by her grace.

Realizing that conventional spells were not going to work, Fluder decided to take a different approach. He decided that if he couldn't attack from the front, he'd attack from below. He aimed his hands toward the dirt, and spoke, his voice echoing. "[Chains of Darkness]!"

The ground beneath him began to tremble, and dark, shadowy tendrils erupted from the earth, snaking their way towards Remiel. The tendrils lashed out, aiming to ensnare her, but Remiel was ready. She tapped the ground with her staff, and a burst of holy light, a divine dome, erupted around her, incinerating the shadowy tendrils. Fluder felt a pang of disappointment, but he pressed on.

Next, Fluder decided he would try to outnumber his opponent. Summoning a powerful [Stone Golem] from the ground, a towering figure made of stone and earth, the golem lumbered towards Remiel, its heavy footsteps shaking the ground. Fluder buffed the golem, enhancing its strength and durability. Remiel watched the golem approach, her face betraying no emotion. There was not even a hint of fear. The raw confidence served only to strengthen Fluder's devotion.


As the golem raised its massive fist to strike, she dodged with a swift, elegant movement, sidestepping with no wasted movement. With a single strike of her staff, she shattered the golem's arm, causing it to stagger. Fluder gritted his teeth, channeling more energy into the golem to repair the damage. But there was no time. She struck again, this time aiming for the golem's legs. The stone limbs crumbled under her assault, and the golem collapsed to the ground, and a final blow to the summon's head caused it to crumble and dissolve into mana.

Breathing heavily, Fluder realized that he was running out of options. He had to admit, even to himself, that he was outmatched. But he refused to give up. Summoning his remaining strength, he began to cast a final, desperate spell. "Vortex of the Void!" he shouted, his voice echoing across the hilltop. A swirling vortex of dark energy appeared above Remiel, threatening to engulf her. Remiel looked up at the vortex, her expression calm and composed. She raised her staff once more, and a brilliant light erupted from its tip, piercing through the darkness. The vortex shuddered and then collapsed, dissipating into nothingness.


Seeing that this effort was also thwarted, Fluder decided to create some distance. He tried to [Teleport] away but Remiel was faster. She closed the gap between them in an instant, her extended leg aiming straight toward his right shoulder. The sheer speed of the kick was blinding. Fluder barely managed to conjure a shield, the force of her strike sending him stumbling back. Had that blow connected, he had no doubt that it would have broken his arm and shoulder both, and would have been a knock-out in the fight, as any time Fluder would spend healing his arm would be time not spent on defense or offense, and with no summons to occupy his opponent, he would be a sitting duck.

Regaining his footing, Fluder unleashed a barrage of elemental spells. Fireballs, shards of ice, and bolts of arcane energy erupted from his hands, each one aimed with deadly precision. Remiel danced through the onslaught, her movements fluid and precise, her staff a blur as it deflected and countered each attack.

Fluder knew he had to escalate. It was time to use his most devastating offensive spell. One he had crafted himself to deal with hordes of beastmen in his youth.

His weathered hands began moving in the air, as shining blue intricate runes appeared in the air, channeling the essence of the storm itself. Above them, the sky darkened ominously, clouds swirling and coalescing into a vortex of roiling energy.

All the while, Remiel stood still, a vague sense of intrigue appearing on her face as she observed the sky above her.

"[Thunderstorm Surge]!" Fluder's voice echoed with arcane authority, commanding the elements to unleash their fury upon Remiel. From the heart of the gathering storm, lightning bolts erupted with deafening cracks, each bolt lancing down with precision toward Remiel.

Remiel's eyes widened briefly as she faced the onslaught. Without hesitation, she focused her divine energy, forming a barrier of radiant light around herself. The lightning bolts struck with explosive force, the air filled with the acrid scent of ozone as sparks danced across Remiel's protective shield.

But Fluder's spell was not finished. The Thunderstorm Surge continued its assault, lightning bolts chaining from one target to another, seeking out their foes with unerring accuracy. Remiel gritted her teeth against the onslaught, her shield flickering under the relentless barrage.

Realizing that the spell would last for quite a while, and perhaps even damage her, her anger was roused. At that point she decided that she had indulged the old man enough. With a decisive gesture, she channeled her own magic in response while pointing at the sky. "Enough!" she commanded, her voice cutting through the storm's fury, as within seconds the dark clouds gave way to the midday sun.

At that point, Fluder realized just how outmatched he was. "That was my strongest attack…" He mumbled under his breath. At that point he wanted to surrender, but there would be no reprieve until the fight was over. Gathering her divine power, she prepared a counterattack.

"[Lightning Spear]!" Remiel's voice boomed with authority, resonating with primal force. A spear of golden lightning formed in her outstretched hand, crackling with incandescent power. It pulsed and shimmered, casting stark shadows across the battlefield as it surged toward Fluder.

Fluder's eyes widened in dread as he saw the approaching spear of lightning. He felt fear, and his life flashed before his eyes. Its brilliance and raw power struck fear into his heart, reminding him of the awesome might wielded by the being before him. With desperate resolve, he conjured a [Wall of Frost], hoping to shield himself from the impending strike.

The Lightning Spear collided with the ice barrier with cataclysmic force, the impact shattering the fragile frost into a million crystalline fragments. Before the shards had a chance to settle, Remiel was upon him. She had moved with supernatural speed, her form blurring and leaving afterimages as she closed the distance in an instant.

With a swift, decisive kick, Remiel sent Fluder hurtling into the shattered remnants of his own defensive barrier. Fluder crashed heavily, his body battered and his breath knocked from his lungs. He lay on the ground, dazed and winded, staring up at Remiel with a mixture of awe and resignation.

Remiel stood over him, her staff still crackling with residual energy. "You fight well, old man," she said, her voice calm and composed. "But you have much to learn."

As she looked down at Fluder, her expression softened slightly as she saw the pain etched on his face. She knew the toll their intense battle had taken on his aging body. With a gesture of her staff, she channeled divine energy, casting a potent healing spell. Radiant light enveloped Fluder, soothing his wounds and revitalizing his weary frame.

"[Divine Heal]." Remiel intoned softly, her voice infused with divine power. Golden light shimmered around Fluder, easing his bruises and restoring his vitality. The lingering ache in his bones faded, replaced by a renewed sense of strength and vigor.

Fluder gasped in relief as the healing magic took effect, warmth spreading through his limbs. He looked up at Remiel with gratitude, realizing the depth of her compassion even in victory. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice filled with relief.

Remiel's smile softened further, her eyes reflecting understanding and encouragement. "Rest now, Fluder," she said gently.

"Tomorrow, our work begins in earnest. You will gather the information I require, and in return, I will impart to you the knowledge you seek. Stick with me, follow my guidance, and I promise you will soon be drunk with knowledge."

As Fluder settled into a comfortable position, a profound sense of determination and anticipation filled him. He knew that his new service to Remiel marked a turning point in his relentless pursuit of magical mastery. The battle had not only tested his skills but had opened his eyes to new possibilities under Remiel's tutelage. With her guidance, he believed he could achieve greatness beyond anything he had imagined before.

But it did more than that. It was everything he had ever wanted. He had finally found a teacher that he could be proud to call his own.

AN: Chapter 19. Once Chapter 20 comes out, which should be Sunday Morning, expect the pace of chapters to slow down. I must write this story and there is little time due to a new job and changes in life. I have 10 chapters already pre-cooked which is about a month of chapters which should be fine, I think...

 

[BenMalek]

Orama tis Katastrofis​

The Theocracy's capital was a place of grandeur and ancient power, its spires reaching toward the heavens as if to grasp divine favor. Commonly called 'Kami Miyako', which means the city of the gods, its true name was Silksuntecks, and it was arguably the greatest city in the world. Law, order, and faith all ruled here and had an iron grip on every part of life.

Within one of the places of power for those who ruled, hidden from the common man's gaze, The Thousand Leagues Astrologer, a woman of ethereal beauty and profound wisdom, sat within the sanctum of her arcane observatory. Her short, very light brown hair framed a face of serene composure and keen intellect. Her orange eyes, behind purple-framed glasses, reflected her deep connection with the stars. Clad in a female school uniform and carrying a light purple bag with an unknown creature inside, she appeared almost ordinary, but her abilities were anything but. To an outside observer, this girl would be harmless, and perhaps they would be right if they merely considered the ability to do harm as only being able to manifest itself by summoning beasts or throwing fireballs. But knowledge was a power all its own…

Her observatory, an awe-inspiring dome of crystal and stone, housed countless tomes and relics of ancient power, though that number had been somewhat diminished lately. The central focus was the grand astrolabe, an intricate device of brass and gems, constantly in motion, aligning with the stars and the mysterious forces of the World. It was here, amidst this celestial grandeur, that the Thousand Leagues Astrologer performed her divinations.

Seated before the astrolabe, she gently placed her hands on its surface, feeling the hum of arcane energy resonating through her fingertips. Her eyes closed in concentration, and her mind reached out across the vast expanse of the world, seeking the threads of fate and the whispers of destiny. The stars above, visible through the transparent dome, twinkled in response, their light converging into the astrolabe, illuminating the room with a soft, radiant glow.

Her previous encounter with the enigmatic Ainz Ooal Gown during his battle against the Sunlight Scripture had left an indelible mark on her psyche. The sheer magnitude of his power had been unlike anything she had ever witnessed, a black void in her divinations that defied comprehension. The memory of that encounter lingered in her mind, a constant reminder of the limits of her sight and the terrifying might of this being.

But worst of all, it was the fact that this unknown opponent had measures against her divination… measures that could have killed her had it not been for the aid of the ever-present healers nearby.

It had become standard policy, for over two centuries now, to have healers on standby whenever the Slane Theocracy performed their divinations, after a Thousand Leagues Astrologer met a rather unfortunate end by being fried alive by lightning after trying to spy on the enigmatic mage who the Theocracy had little information on except that she was very powerful, capable of at least 9th tier magic, and a companion of the Leader of the Thirteen Heroes. Alas, she was dead, as were most of the other members of the Thirteen, so the odds of divination ending in death was low but always greater than zero.

Thus, the reason for the healers, who were put to work after spying on this 'Ainz Ooal Gown' resulted in an explosion to the face and irreparable damage to many priceless relics.

As her consciousness drifted across the world, it was drawn to a place of foreboding darkness, the Forest of Tob. The stars whispered of a great upheaval, an ancient power stirring from its slumber. Her brow furrowed in concentration, and she delved deeper, seeking the source of this disturbance. Images began to form in her mind—glimpses of a colossal figure, scales like midnight, eyes burning with malevolent intent. It was the Catastrophe Dragon Lord, a being of immense power and destruction.

Yet, the vision was unclear, shrouded in a haze of uncertainty. The shadows of the forest seemed to shift and obscure her sight, preventing her from obtaining a clear picture. There were conflicting impressions—at times, it appeared as a mighty dragon, and at others, as a massive, twisted tree, and a few times it appeared as nothing more than an ominous shadow that choked all within its presence by merely existing, and others it was a blinding and searing light that was too bright to even look at. The confusion in her mind mirrored the turmoil in the stars, making it difficult to discern the true nature of the threat.

Breaking her trance, she opened her eyes, the glow of the astrolabe fading. She rose to her feet, her expression grave and determined. There was no time to waste. The Cardinals would need to be informed. Hopefully, they would see wisdom and deploy The Black Scripture, the Holy Kingdom's elite strike force, immediately. They were the only ones capable of confronting such a formidable foe and uncovering the truth behind these ominous signs. And not only that, they were the only ones also able to move there swiftly enough while avoiding detection.

Getting an army there in this political climate, with troops bogged down in the Elf Kingdom and the recent failure of the Sunlight Scripture in Re-Estize, would be simply impossible. And even if it were possible, the ramifications of such a move would be catastrophic. No, stealth would be key.

With swift, graceful movements, she penned a detailed missive, outlining her vision and the dire threat posed by the Catastrophe Dragon Lord—or perhaps the Great Demon Tree, Zytl Q'ae. Her writing was precise and urgent, conveying the gravity of the situation. Once completed, she summoned a trusted courier, one of her personal, and handed him the sealed scroll.

"Take this to the Cardinals, immediately." She ordered, and the man took the scroll, bowed his head, and sped off immediately.

---

Back in E-Rantel…


The raucous atmosphere of the tavern was alive with laughter, clinking mugs, and the steady hum of conversation. Adventurers of all ranks and backgrounds gathered here to unwind, exchange tales, and drown their woes in ale. Brita, an iron-ranked adventurer with untidy red hair trimmed short for easy movement, sat at a corner table, listening intently to the chatter around her. Her sharp eyes, untamed hair, and wheat-colored skin from long exposure to the sun marked her as a seasoned warrior. Her arms bore solid muscles, and her hands were full of calluses from wielding a sword. Despite all this, there was a certain beauty to her, undeniable, not like that of a spoiled pillow princess, but a woman that would stick with a man through thick and thin.

At the table next to hers, a group of iron-ranked adventurers was deep in discussion, their voices rising and falling with excitement and skepticism.

"Did you hear about the monster rampaging in the forest?" one of them, a burly man with a scar across his cheek, said. "Ever since the Wise King disappeared, there's been talk of some creature causing havoc out there."

A slender man with a mischievous grin scoffed, "You believe those rumors? The Wise King of the Forest was a myth to begin with. Now they're saying there's a monster because it's gone? Sounds like tavern talk to me."

"It's not a myth! I saw the beast," another adventurer, a young man with wide eyes and a quivering voice, interjected. "Fur white as snow, bigger than a carriage! And Momon was riding it like a horse."

The slender man looked taken aback. "You saw it yourself? That's... hard to believe."

A third adventurer, a woman with a stern face and piercing eyes, leaned in. "I've heard similar stories. They say the creature's huge, with glowing red eyes. People are too scared to go near the forest now."

"People say random shit all the time, most of it isn't even true. Oooh, look, a monster with big red eyes terrorizing the forest. How terrifying. Not! That's literally every monster ever! Every time some random peasant comes to the guild they say the same thing. 'A big scary monster with red eyes is terrorizing me village!' " A forth adventurer, younger than the slender man but quite a bit taller, managed to spit out, imitating a stereotypical peasant accenta the very end. He spoke his words with swiftness and decisiveness, as if it had physically pained him to hold them in for even a time. Once he did, he calmed down, and returned to drinking his ale and eating his salted pork with gusto.

Brita sipped her ale, her curiosity piqued. She had heard whispers about the forest, but the tales always varied. The disappearance of the Wise King had indeed stirred up a storm of rumors.

"Calm down mate. Forget the monster," the burly man said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Have you heard about 'Darkness'? That new adventuring group?"

The slender man chuckled, "You mean the one with Momon, Nabe, and Lupu? They've been making waves, that's for sure. Already reached Platinum rank, can you believe it?"

The stern-faced woman nodded. "I heard they took down two great monsters from the forest: the Giant of the West and the Serpent of the East. If that's true, they must be incredibly powerful."

A young woman at the table, with bright eyes and a dreamy expression, sighed. "Momon must be so strong and valorous to achieve such feats. And he must be so handsome! Have you seen him? He's like a hero out of a story."

One of the men laughed, raising his mug in a mock toast. "To Momon, the hero! And his beautiful companions. Nabe and Lupu are stunning, aren't they? I wonder if he's romantically involved with either of them."

The slender man smirked. "With both, more likely. Lucky bastard."


The stern-faced woman rolled her eyes. "Focus on their accomplishments, not their looks. If they really took down those monsters, we should be paying attention to their strength and strategy."

At that moment, Brita decided to chime in. Her voice was steady and confident as she spoke, her expression thoughtful. "I actually met Momon once. He was the one who accidentally broke my potion when he threw an idiot into my table."

The table fell silent, and the adventurers turned to look at Brita, intrigued.

"Seriously?" the burly man asked, leaning in. "What happened?"

Brita continued, a hint of amusement in her tone. "Yeah. Some random guy tried to start shit with him, but Momon wasn't having it. He threw this man at my table while I wasn't paying attention, and my potion shattered. At first, I was pretty pissed. But he made up for it. Gave me a replacement potion, which turned out to be worth a lot more than the one he broke."

The young woman's eyes widened. "What kind of potion was it?"

Brita shrugged. "I didn't know at the time, but it was appraised as being worth eight gold pieces. So, he seems like an alright bloke, despite the mishap."

The burly man nodded appreciatively. "Well, sounds like he's got some good manners, at least."

As the conversation continued, the young woman still seemed fascinated. "I'd love to meet him. From all I've heard, he's quite the hero. It must be amazing to see him in action."

Brita took another sip of her ale, her gaze thoughtful. "From what I saw, he's definitely impressive. And his companions—Nabe and Lupu—they're no slouches either."

"Less attention on Momon and his group, who are definitely eating well, and more focus on ourselves, and how we're going to put food on the table," one of the adventurers grumbled. "There's talk of a bandit group terrorizing caravans in the vicinity. If Darkness keeps going at this rate, they might take them down too. Now, this can be both good and bad."

Brita's eyes gleamed with determination. "Maybe we should try to take down that bandit group ourselves," she suggested, her voice steady. "Prove that we're just as capable as Darkness."

The burly man raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like a plan, Brita. But we don't know much about these bandits. Are you sure?"

Brita nodded, her expression fierce. "I've faced worse than some upjumped bandits. In all likelihood, they're just peasants who've turned to crime. Even if we're outnumbered, with the right team, we can handle it. We might need to recruit a few more hands, but that shouldn't be too difficult."

The tall man, who had just finished a portion of salted pork, decided to chime in. "If they're halfway decent bandits, they probably have a fortified hideout. We should stock up on supplies, and maybe get some bombs while we're at it. Bombs are useful."

"Why are you so obsessed with bombs?" asked the thin man sitting across from him.

"I like blowing shit up," the taller man replied shamelessly, earning a round of chuckles from the group.

Brita listened, her mind racing with thoughts of the bandit group and the chance to prove her skills. The rise of Darkness was the talk of the town, their rapid ascent a mix of awe and envy. She felt a strong urge to make her own mark, to be part of something legendary.

"Well, what do you guys say?" Brita asked, a determined edge in her voice. "Want to kill some bandits and make some coin?"

"Aye, I'm in," the burly man replied with a grin.

"Sure, why not," another adventurer agreed, raising his mug in a toast.

With a renewed sense of purpose, the adventurers clinked their mugs together, their spirits high. The promise of action and the chance to make a name for themselves set the tone for their upcoming venture. Brita, feeling a mix of excitement and resolve, knew that this was her chance to step up and prove herself on a grander stage.

 

[BenMalek]

Kabus al-Khalifa​

The moon hung high in the sky as Emperor Jircniv awoke with a start. One of his concubines, her warm body beside him, stirred as he moved. "Stay in bed," she murmured sleepily, but Jircniv shook his head, disentangling himself from the sheets.

"I will, I just need to relieve myself." he replied, his voice steady despite the unease gnawing at him. Of course, that was a lie. The truth was that he couldn't sleep.

He decided he'd get some work done while he was awake. It couldn't be more than a few hours from sunrise anyway.

He dressed quickly, his mind already on the affairs of state he needed to attend to.

In the dim light, he prepared himself, washing his face in the washbasin. As he looked into the mirror, he froze. A figure stood behind him, its presence sending a chill down his spine. He blinked again, thinking it was some figment of his imagination or a servant waiting for his orders.The reflection was that of a woman, her gaze piercing through the mirror.

He tried to turn around and see the situation with his own eyes.

Before he could react, the woman reached out for him, her hand closing around his neck. At that moment, he felt pain and he felt himself being choked.

"An assassination!?"

Right as he was about to voice his complaint he was whisked away. The world around him blurred, and in an instant, they were no longer in his chamber. They were thousands of meters in the air above a nameless field, the cold wind biting at his skin.

"What the…" He thought to himself. Was he… was he in the sky?

Jircniv struggled to breathe as the enigmatic figure held him aloft, floating in the air without any difficulty, her grip like iron. "Who... who are you?" he choked out.

"I am Remiel," she replied coldly. "And you mortal, are going to answer my questions."

Jircniv's mind raced. "What do you want from me?"

Jircniv gasped for breath as Remiel released her grip, the cold wind biting into his skin as they floated high above the nameless field. His mind whirled, struggling to piece together the implications of this encounter. Here he was, floating in the air despite having no magical power of his own, having a nighttime conversation with someone capable of slipping into his palace and taking him out with ease. Remiel's eyes never left his, her gaze unwavering and intense.

"You've wronged many people from Re-Estize, Jircniv," Remiel began, her voice steady and unyielding. "People whose lives were shattered by your ambitions. I've met them personally, and they curse your name with every breath they take."

His skepticism skyrocketed. "You're with them!?" He chuckled. "No, no, I doubt that, those fools despise magic. No, you're not with Re-Estize. Slane, perhaps? Are you with one of the Scriptures?"

In response, all he got was a blank stare. It seemed that the answer he gave did not please his captor…

"Try to change the topic again, lie, or evade my questions and I'll circumcise you with one of your golden butter knives."

Jircniv's expression hardened. He had heard accusations before, but the sheer power and presence of this woman made them sting in a way they hadn't before. And that threat was… quite disturbing.

"War and conquest have their casualties," he replied, trying to maintain his composure. "Every ruler must make difficult decisions. However, the fall of Re-Estize will ultimately benefit the common man when they are a part of my Empire."

Remiel's eyes flashed with a cold fire. "Difficult decisions? You've built your Empire on the blood of innocents, enslaved those who opposed you, and crushed those who dared to stand in your way. Your reign has brought suffering to countless lives."

Jircniv's jaw clenched. "That is slander. The nobles that rebelled were parasites and deserved to be removed, and I have worked day and night to improve the lives of my people, even those who are slaves. Because of those decisions, Baharuth stands strong. The empire thrives. You would have seen it yourself had you walked the streets of Arwintar."

The answer clearly caught the figure off guard, or at least so it seemed, as the woman didn't respond. Jircniv decided to press his luck. "A man two centuries old, who has seen countless monarchs good and bad, is one of my most trusted advisors. Daily, Fluder himself advocates for me, speaking of my virtues as a ruler. He believes in my vision and my ability to lead. Do you think he is wrong?"

A smirk tugged at Remiel's lips. "Fluder, the man you rely on so heavily, is now under my control. He speaks highly of you, yes. He admires your intellect, your strategic mind, and your ability to revolutionize Baharuth. He acknowledges the strength you've brought to your empire. Yet, he cast you aside when you were of no use to him. He said, and I quote, 'I swear my allegiance to you, now and forever! I will give you everything I have, and everything I am!' Thus, do not put your trust in him or his words anymore."

The words clearly caught Jircniv off-guard. The old man had betrayed him? When? How?

Did it happen a long time ago? Or was it recent. It had to be recent. Was this figure pursuing aggressive expansion? But still… to hear that he had been cast away like that so easily…

Jircniv's eyes widened slightly. The revelation that Fluder was now allied with Remiel was a blow he hadn't anticipated. "Fluder's loyalty was hard-earned," he said, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice. "If he truly speaks for you, then you must see the value I bring as an emperor."

Remiel's expression remained cold and calculating. "Your value lies in your potential to serve a greater cause. Baharuth's strength is admirable, but it was built on a foundation of cruelty and oppression. You have the chance to change that."

Jircniv's brow furrowed. "And if I refuse?"

Remiel's eyes narrowed. "It would be better for you, and all parties involved, if you did not. But should you choose to refuse, know this. I will dismantle your empire piece by piece. I will free the oppressed, destroy the corrupt, take what's worth taking, and leave bones and ashes in my wake."

A heavy silence fell between them, the weight of Remiel's words sinking in. Jircniv knew he was cornered, his options limited. He had spent his life building an empire, but now, in the face of overwhelming power, he had to reconsider his path.

"You were born powerful, and the thoughts of the slave and the servant are alien to your mind. I will change that," Remiel continued. "From henceforth, you will be my slave. You will do what I say, when I say it, and you will work for me all the days of your life."

Jircniv's eyes widened in shock. "You can't be serious. I'm the Emperor!"

Remiel's response was cold and final. "It's quite simple, Jircniv. Obey my word or your empire will taste my sword."

The weight of her command settled heavily on him. "What is your ultimate goal?" he asked, desperation creeping into his voice.

"World conquest," Remiel replied without hesitation. "I, or rather the group I belong to, will reshape this world, and you will be part of that transformation."

Jircniv's mind raced. "And what happens now?"

Remiel's eyes glinted with a chilling finality. "Now, you die."

Before Jircniv could react, Remiel canceled the magic that held him aloft, and released him to his doom. He plummeted through the air, the ground rushing up to meet him. Terror gripped his heart, and his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. How could this be happening? He was the Emperor, the ruler of Baharuth! He had faced threats before, but nothing like this. His life flashed before his eyes, moments of triumph and conquest now seeming hollow in the face of imminent death. His screams filled the air, a primal sound of terror and helplessness, before everything went black.

Yet…

He awoke with a start, gasping for breath, his heart pounding like a war drum in his chest. He was back in his bed, the familiar surroundings offering no comfort. His body was drenched in sweat, his heart racing.

The memory of his fall was vivid and horrifying, and for a moment, he clutched his chest, convinced he could still feel the impact. He felt his chest, he felt his neck. No wounds were found.

"It was just a dream… Just a dream. I'm getting too stressed."

He cast another glance toward his concubine. She was still sleeping in the exact same place, just as he had left her. Almost as if no time at all had passed.

Jircniv jumped from his bed, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He looked around wildly, expecting to see that evil woman standing in the shadows, ready to strike again. But he was alone. He tried to steady himself, forcing his mind to calm. "It was just a dream," he whispered, his voice trembling. "It had to be a dream."

But then he saw his arms, covered in dirt and smeared with blood. His robes, once pristine, were now filthy and torn. His heart sank, dread seeping into his bones.

"No, no, no… no, it can't be. It can't be possible. This can't be happening, this isn't happening." He repeatedly spoke to himself, he repeated the words like a mantra, all with the express goal of calming himself down. But then he felt something. A small weight in one of his pockets.

Hesitantly, he reached into his pocket with shaking hands and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. Unfolding it, he read the ominous words: "I own you."

The note slipped from his fingers as he stumbled backward, his mind reeling. He clutched his head, trying to make sense of the nightmare that had become his reality. The room spun around him, and a wave of nausea overtook him. He barely made it to the washbasin before he vomited, his body convulsing with the effort.

When he could stand again, he looked at his reflection in the mirror. His face was pale, his eyes wide with fear. He had always prided himself on his composure, his ability to remain calm under pressure. But now, he was a broken man, haunted by the memory of his fall and the chilling certainty that the woman's threat was real.

He sank to the floor, clutching his knees to his chest, and screamed internally. The sound echoed through his skull, a testament to his despair. Tears streamed down his face as he rocked back and forth, the weight of his new reality crushing him. He was the Emperor of Baharuth, but now he was nothing more than a puppet, his strings pulled by a power far greater than his own.

As the dawn light filtered through the window, Jircniv knew his life and his empire would never be the same again. He was no longer in control; he was a slave to Remiel's will. And the thought of what that meant for him and his people filled him with a terror deeper than he had ever known.

If she could get him in the midst of his palace, enchanted with countless spells and guarded by the best knights, and put him back where she found him with no one the wiser… there was no place he could go where she couldn't get him.

As the tears continued to fall down his face, he felt another weight in one of his pockets, much heavier than that of mere paper, and it was a noticeable weight that he could have sworn was not there mere seconds ago.

"I… how… Why me?" he muttered to himself again and again and again until he finally mustered up the courage to reach down with his hand into his pocket.

When he did so, he managed to pull out what seemed to be some sort of book.

"Is this how she seeks to command me? I will not even get a day's rest before she gives me orders!" He wanted to scream aloud, but he repressed the urge.

When he opened the book, he saw a list of names, and their descriptions and residences. Most of those people he knew personally, as he had made deals with or threats to them in person.

He scrolled through the book, page after page, looking at their numbering, and noticing a dreadful fact. It was over a hundred. Over one hundred names. Over one hundred souls.

And on each page, in bold red at the very top above the headline of the page, was written.

"KILL THEM ALL. TAKE THEIR POSSESSIONS. FREE THE SLAVES."

At that moment, he saw golden hairs fall on the pages of the book.




AN: In all timelines, Jircniv gets traumatized. Also, I hate work. REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEe

 

[BenMalek]

Plans dans les plans​

The full ensemble of the Black Scripture gathered in the grand hall of the Slane Theocracy, their faces set with determination. Their mission was clear: subjugate the Catastrophe Dragon Lord, a task only they could undertake. Each member was a hero, utilizing legendary equipment from the Six Great Gods, a testament to their unparalleled might.

The Captain, with androgynous features, long black hair, and sharp red eyes, stood in ornate armor, holding a humble-looking spear. "All right, everyone, this mission is critical. The Catastrophe Dragon Lord is a formidable foe, but we must succeed."

Time Turbulence, a man with medium brown hair, green eyes, and a cape adorned with clock patterns, wielded his spiral-patterned rapier with ease. "I've been waiting for a real challenge. It's been too quiet since the Sunlight Scripture debacle."

Lady Kaire, the elderly 4th Seat, wore a white cheongsam embroidered with a golden dragon, the powerful artifact 'Downfall of Castle and Country.' She had a serene yet authoritative presence. "I heard rumors that Clementine might have had a hand in what happened to them. She disappeared around the same time."

One Man Army, Quaiesse Hazia Quintia, who bore a striking resemblance to his twin sister Clementine, had blond hair and pink eyes. He specialized in commanding tamed beasts stored in his rings. "Clementine always was a wild card. But let's focus. This Dragon Lord won't be an easy target."

Callous Lancer, with short blond hair slicked back and narrow gray eyes, wore decorative armor and carried a large lance. "A Dragon Lord, huh? I've fought a few dragons before, but nothing like this. Any intel on its abilities?"

Thousand Leagues Astrologer, a young woman with short light brown hair, orange eyes, and dressed in a school uniform, provided intelligence support. "From what I've gathered, it's incredibly powerful, with devastating magical and physical capabilities. It's also said to have some control over catastrophic events."

"So…nothing concrete beyond it being big and scary? Like every other dragon?" Callous lancer queried, and the young woman merely nodded in response.

Cedran, a tall, muscular man with long crimson hair tied in a ponytail, known for his stern demeanor, crossed his arms. "Sounds like we're in for a tough fight. But we've faced worse. Remember the battle against the Beast of the Apocalypse?"

Beaumarchais, Divine Chain, Clementine's replacement as the 9th seat, was a powerfully built man with black spiked hair and a tattoo on his left temple, who also had an unhealthy affinity for chains, be they used in combat or… elsewhere.

"That was a nightmare. But this might be even worse. A Dragon Lord's strength is beyond that of any regular monster. And speaking of nightmares, any word on what happened to the Sunlight Scripture? Did they find the bastard who did it?"

The Captain shook his head. "We know he's a magic caster who goes by the name of Ainz Ooal Gown, but beyond that? There's no information about him. Whoever he is, he knows how to stay out of sight."

The old, gray-haired man known by the title of 'Strongest Human', had a great and terrifying axe and even more great and terrifying muscles that covered every inch of his body. "Forget the magic caster. We're going dragon hunting! And it's a good thing we are! It's been so long since my ax has tasted blood, and I need a real fight. This Dragon Lord better not disappoint."

At that point, a woman glared at him like he was an idiot. Her title was Infinite Magic, and her appearance was that of a frail woman with long blue hair, dressed in loose, sagging clothes,l and wore an enormous hat. She specialized in powerful magic and was among the if not the most powerful magic caster in the Theocracy's employ, and possibly the most powerful magic caster on the continent, after Fluder Paradyne of course.

"If we're not careful, it could end us all. But with our combined strength, we stand a chance."

Tenjho Tenge, a middle-aged man in a red, skin-tight bodysuit reinforced with metal plating, specialized in close combat. "We'll need to be at our best. No room for mistakes."

The Captain nodded, his red eyes sharp and focused. "We proceed with caution. Remember, this mission isn't just about defeating a powerful enemy. It's about ensuring the safety and dominance of the Slane Theocracy. The Catastrophe Dragon Lord has the potential to wreak havoc on our lands. We must eliminate this threat."

"Am I the only one here worried about Clementine? Her and Zurrarnon could cause us a bunch of trouble. Any chance they might show up?" Time Turbulence asked.

The third seat of the Black Scripture, a middle-aged man with a mark tattoo on his left palm who wore extravagant robes decided to speak up. "Good. It'll be fun to fight those posers and show them what true power is."

And as a man who specialized in necromantic magic, shadow magic, and curses, he was most similar to a member of Zurrarnon.

At his words, Time Turbulence cringed and muttered 'weirdo' under his breath.

One Man Army, who bore a striking resemblance to his twin sister Clementine, answered with a grim expression. "If my sister is alive, she'll be watching from the shadows, no doubt. But if we do find her, we will capture her and bring her to justice. Her defecting was one thing, but to steal the Crown of Wisdom as well is unforgivable. Nonetheless, we can't worry about her now."

The Captain agreed. "We stick to the mission. The Dragon Lord is our priority. Anything else is just a bonus."

Callous Lancer cracked his knuckles. "I have no doubt that our training is enough. We will succeed. Even if we are too weak to take it down ourselves, Lady Kaire will use 'Downfall of Castle and Country' to subjugate the beast."

Strongest Human hefted his axe with a grin. "Don't place too much faith in magic trinkets. You never know where things might go wrong. But yeah, we'll come back alive and victorious, all of us."

Callous Lancer's mouth was agape. "Did you just call… a treasure from the Gods… a trinket?"

The old man merely flashed him a smile in response.

Thousand Leagues Astrologer sighed. "I'll provide as much intelligence support as I can during the mission. Keep your eyes and ears open. And don't expect me to fight that thing, whatever it is."

Cedran's eyes blazed with determination. "We'll make sure this Dragon Lord regrets crossing paths with the Black Scripture."

Divine Chain's voice was steady. "Just another job. But let's make sure we all come back alive."

Infinite Magic's gaze was intense. "Alive, and victorious."

Tenjho Tenge's fists clenched in anticipation. "I'm ready. Let's do this."

The Captain raised his spear, a symbol of their unity and strength. "For the Slane Theocracy!"

The members echoed his rallying cry, their determination unwavering. Together, they marched out, ready to face the Catastrophe Dragon Lord and prove once again why the Black Scripture was the strongest force in the Theocracy.

---

The dawn cast a gray light through the grand windows of the Emperor's council chamber. Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix, the Blood Emperor, sat at the head of the table, his usually confident demeanor replaced by an uneasy pallor. The Four Imperial Knights—Nazami Enec, Nimble Arc Dale Anoch, Leinas Rockbruise, and Baziwood Peshmel—stood by, their expressions reflecting varying degrees of concern and determination.

Advisors and council members were already gathered, their murmurs hushed but urgent. Jircniv cleared his throat, drawing all eyes to him. "We need to discuss the slavery reforms," he began, his voice lacking its usual authority. "I have compiled a list of 100 prominent slaveholders and merchants who must be dealt with to stabilize our empire."

Nazami Enec, a tall and muscular man with dark tanned skin and an x-shaped scar on his chin, remained stoic and composed. His dark brown eyes conveyed his concern without words. Nimble Arc Dale Anoch, a handsome young man with short blonde hair and blue eyes, frowned slightly, his demeanor dignified yet apprehensive. Leinas Rockbruise, the only female knight, stood aloof, her fair skin and green eyes marred by a curse that had disfigured the right side of her face. Baziwood Peshmel, the acting leader, with his long blonde hair and muscular build, leaned forward, his informal personality evident even in his concern.

"Your Majesty, another purge targeting influential individuals will incite unrest. We must consider the repercussions," Nazami said, his deep voice calm.

"Indeed," added Nimble, his tone calculating. "Perhaps we could spread out the actions over several months? This would mitigate immediate backlash and allow us to manage the consequences more effectively."

Baziwood crossed his arms, his face stern. "Eh, I say just gut em. At this point anyone not with the program deserves what's coming to 'em."

Leinas, usually silent, decided to speak. "I don't know if a purge is what we need right now. Maybe after the war?

An advisor entered the room, carrying a tray laden with breakfast. Jircniv glanced at the food, but the mere sight of it made his stomach churn. He waved it away, his face growing even paler.

"Your Majesty, are you unwell?" Nazami asked, concern evident in his voice.

"I'm fine," Jircniv replied curtly, though his pallor suggested otherwise.

As the discussion continued, Fluder Paradyne entered the chamber, his presence commanding immediate attention. The old mage's eyes glinted with hidden knowledge as he took a seat beside the Emperor.

"Master Fluder," Jircniv greeted, his voice steadying slightly. "Your counsel on this matter would be invaluable."

Fluder nodded, his expression unreadable. "A sudden purge will create chaos. Yet, reforming the institution of slavery is something we will need to do eventually. Should the Slane Theocracy destroy the Elf Kingdom, we will inevitably have a decent-sized minority of elves and half-elves in our borders. If left alone, they have the potential to cause unnecessary damage to our goals. It's easier to just emancipate all the elves now and incorporate them as loyal tax-payers, thus securing their loyalty."

Upon hearing the last word Jircniv nearly swallowed his tongue but managed to stop himself at the last moment.

Nimble, the handsome knight, commented. "We must consider the long-term effects on the populace of yet another purge. People dislike seeing blood unless it's in the Arena."

Jircniv met Fluder's gaze, a silent understanding passing between them. Both knew that their recent encounter with Remiel had prompted these drastic measures, though neither would acknowledge it openly.

Emperor Jircniv sat silent for a few moments as he deliberated his options. On the one hand, stability, on the other, possibly angering his new owner. Eventually, he came to a decision.

"I trust your wisdom, Master Fluder," Jircniv said, his voice regaining some strength. "We will proceed with caution, spreading the purge out over several months."

"Wise decision, Your Majesty," Fluder replied, his tone betraying nothing. "Stability is paramount, especially with the state of Re-Estize as a cautionary tale."

"I trust your wisdom, Master Fluder," Jircniv said, his voice regaining some strength. "We will proceed with caution, spreading the actions over several months."

"Wise decision, Your Majesty," Fluder replied, his tone betraying nothing. "Stability is paramount, especially with the state of Re-Estize as a cautionary tale."

The conversation shifted to the dire situation in Re-Estize, where instability and rebellion had taken root following their failure to address slavery and noble corruption. The shadow of their unspoken alliance, or in Jircniv's case, unwilling subjugation to Remiel loomed large over the room. The news from Re-Estize, where the nobles' failure to address the gradual degradation of their society had led to widespread unrest, served as a stark reminder of the consequences of inaction.

One of the advisors, a seasoned diplomat named Gaius Varian, spoke up. "The recent mansion incident still weighs heavily on my mind. Investigations are still ongoing, and we do not know who burned it down or why that noble and his staff were killed."

Jircniv turned to Fluder, his expression curious. "Master Fluder, do you have any insights into this incident?"

Fluder's eyes twinkled with a secretive light. "I know only this. It is not easy to destroy the manse of a well-protected noble overnight. Originally I thought it was the work of a group, but now… I believe that the individual responsible for that incident wields power that is not to be underestimated."

Jircniv nodded, understanding Fluder's hint. "Yes, the mansion incident. We must show that we are in control. No one should be able to kill our nobles at will."

"No one but you, eh?" Baziwood chimed in from the side and the comment elicited a chuckle from the Emperor.

"Our response must be measured. Too heavy-handed a response could backfire. Fluder, I'll put you on the case with the mansion. Find who did it and deal with them."

Fluder merely nodded in affirmation.

Another advisor, clearly uncomfortable, ventured, "Back to the topic of the purge. Perhaps we could focus on the most egregious offenders first? Those whose actions have directly threatened the stability of the empire?"

Gaius added, "It would demonstrate that we are acting with purpose and not simply out of fear or desperation."

The conversation circled back to the practicalities of the purge. As the morning sun rose ever higher, casting a harsh light on the gathering, Jircniv couldn't shake the feeling that his empire was now a pawn in a game far beyond his control. His appetite remained nonexistent, the weight of recent events pressing heavily on his mind and body.

"We must also consider the military situation," Nimble said, steering the conversation. "The annual war with Re-Estize is approaching. We need our forces focused and ready."

Jircniv nodded. "You're right. With Re-Estize being a powder-keg ready to erupt into civil war at any moment, we can't afford to waste too much time on the purge. We must be prepared to strike, and we will manage the purge in a way that does not distract from our preparations for the war."

One of the younger advisors, a man named Lucius Tiberian, hesitated before speaking. "Your Majesty, there is a particular individual not on the list I wish to bring to your attention."

Jircniv raised an eyebrow. "And who might that be, Lucius?"

Lucius cleared his throat. "Marcus Salvius Terentius, Your Majesty. He...he slept with my wife. Oh, and he also owns a lumber mill that supplies a significant portion of the city's construction needs."

A brief silence followed as the absurdity of Lucius' petty vendetta hung in the air. Jircniv merely chuckled in response before exhaling deeply. "Woe unto Marcus Salvius," he said, his tone both mocking and resolute. "His days are numbered."

Fluder's eyes sparkled with amusement, though he maintained his composed demeanor. "Fear not, your Majesty. I am sure that we will be victorious and all your enemies will be destroyed."

Jircniv barely contained the laughter that threatened to erupt from his soul.

---

Later that day, once night fell on the Re-Estize capital…


Demiurge stood in the shadowed alleyway, his mind racing with plans and schemes. The air was thick with the scent of decay, a fitting backdrop for the city's impending doom. His previous encounter had been productive; the information extracted from the fat man had been invaluable. Now, it was time to set the next phase into motion.

He reached out with a [Message] spell. "Shadow Demon, report."

"My lord," the demon's voice echoed in his mind, "we have identified key figures within the criminal underbelly who can be manipulated to our advantage. They control various vices and are influential in the city's darker circles."

"Excellent," Demiurge replied, a smile playing on his lips. "Begin sowing discord among them by planting those letters as instructed. Use their greed and paranoia to our benefit."

"As you command, Lord Demiurge."

Demiurge turned his attention to the flickering lights of the noble district. His plans for the city's elite were equally insidious. He would exploit their vanity and lust for power, turning them against each other and weakening their defenses. And when he had squeezed every last drop of usefulness from their bloated masses, he'd claim their souls and torment them for eternity. Perhaps he'd make a monument of their fleshy remains?

"Lord Ainz did mention we need more scrolls… Perhaps I can beat their skin into a pulp and turn it into paper? Hmm…potentially fruitful hypothesis, this. Should experiment further. I will have one of the Shadow Demons kidnap an unimportant human and experiment on them later."

With a flick of his wrist, he cast [Greater Teleportation] and appeared in the lavish gardens of a prominent noble's estate. The night was silent, save for the chirping of crickets. He approached the grand mansion, his form cloaked in shadow.

Inside, the nobleman was hosting a gathering of influential figures. Demiurge could hear the murmur of conversation, the clinking of glasses. It was a simple matter to blend into the darkness, listening in on their discussions. Not a single one of them knew that Demiurge was there, listening to their treasonous words, just waiting for the perfect timing to make his move.

"Lord Reaghan," one of the guests said, "have you heard the rumors? There are whispers of unrest in the slums. It could spill over into our districts."

Reaghan, a portly man with a haughty demeanor, waved a dismissive hand. "Nonsense. The guards will handle it. Besides, we have more pressing matters to discuss. The King's health is failing, and there are those who believe it's time for a change in leadership. It's high time Prince Barbro inherits. And with the war with Baharuth right around the corner, a victory for him will help cement his legitimacy."

"And ours!" Another thin noble exclaimed loudly and the fellow meatbags around him repeated his words and clinked their glasses together.

Demiurge's eyes gleamed. This was the opportunity he needed. As the conversation continued, he noted the alliances and rivalries among the nobles. He would fan the flames of their ambitions, turning them into unwitting pawns in his game.

As the night wore on, Demiurge made his move. He approached a particularly ambitious noble, Lord Marquess, after the noble decided to get some fresh air on a balcony. This very same noble had repeatedly and quite often been voicing his desire for greater power and autonomy for the nobility.

"Lord Marquess," Demiurge whispered, his voice like silk. "I have a proposition for you."

Marquess turned, his eyes widening at the sight of the demon. "Who... who are you?"

"Someone who has much to gain from working with you. An ally, perhaps" Demiurge replied smoothly. "One who can help you achieve your goals. But you must trust me."

Marquess hesitated, then nodded. "Why should I trust you? You don't look human."

Demiurge leaned in, his voice low and conspiratorial. "Because I have knowledge, but no place to call my own. Humans have persecuted me for a long time, and thus I have been forced to live in the shadows. Living in secrecy has provided me a wealth of information, of which I will give you freely, provided in turn you protect me from my enemies and offer me a safe place to live on your land. Perhaps you can carve out a village for me in your demesne and I can serve as one of your vassals? All I want is a place to call my own, just like any other human."

Marquess's eyes glittered with greed. "I risk much by speaking with you. But let us say I believe you. Tell me more."

"How many children does the King have? Five, three daughters and two sons. Of the two sons, one is married, and one is not, and of the three daughters, only one is unmarried. Who will inherit him?"

The noble's eyebrow furrowed. "Prince Barbro, of course."

"What if that were not so? I know that the prince has some dark secrets he'd rather not revealed. If those came to light, he'd surely be disinherited, and in so doing, start a civil war between his supporters, and those that'd support his brother."

"So, you want me to support one of these sides in a hypothetical civil war?"

"Yes and no. Your son is unmarried, and of an age with the third princess, correct? Suppose both the princes Barbro the Elder and Zanac the younger were to meet their unfortunate ends in this war. Who would inherit?"

"Hmm… The law is not clear. The King's brother…"

"Is dead. And the king's nephews are dead, the oldest descendant of his brother is a six-year old boy, the king's grand-nephew. Thus, who would inherit, a six-year old boy of diluted royal blood when Baharuth is breathing down the Kingdom's neck, or a woman, the King's own flesh and blood?"

As Demiurge laid out his plan, he could see the seeds of treachery taking root. Marquess would become his instrument, spreading discord and weakening the noble class from within. Not that they needed more weakening.

"The king has three daughters…two of them are married. The Princess Renner is not."

"You got it exactly right. While an argument could be made for the oldest of the King's daughters to inherit, if you were to get enough of the nobles to support you, she could be passed up for her youngest sister… who would be married to your son. Thus, making you the father-in-law to the queen and father to the king consort, grandfather of the future king. You'd be the most powerful man in Re-Estize, and you could lead it into a Golden Era."

"That's…" the noble swallowed his saliva. "That's treason."

"Only if we lose." Demiurge whispered, and faded back into the shadows.

Satisfied, Demiurge took his leave.

As he left the mansion, he reminisced over what he had told the noble. It was pure hogwash, of course, but that noble wouldn't be the only one he'd feed such sweet little lies to. There were dozens, a veritable tribe of the fools, all written in his notes, and he could wrap each of them around his little finger.

Once he did and had them dancing to a specific tune, he'd eventually cut them loose and enjoy the chaos they caused as they tried to move without the aid of the puppeteer, flinging Re-Estize into chaos while Demiurge focused on his real plans using his real chosen servants.

Truth be told, words were wind, and Demiurge had no intention of honoring his whispers and deals, but they didn't know that… all he needed was the nobles to act even more treasonously to their liege than they had before. How this manifested was irrelevant.

He cast a final glance at the mansion. The pieces were falling into place. Soon, Re-Estize would be ripe for conquest, and all would bow before the supreme power of Nazarick.

"Happy is he who toils for his master's sake," Demiurge murmured to himself, before his lips hummed a sweet tune. His gem-like eyes were positively shining with anticipation at the sweet terrors he'd soon unleash on this wretched nation. The kingdom's downfall was inevitable, and he would ensure that it was a spectacle worthy of Lord Ainz's greatness.

And if Demiurge had a little fun while it happened, what was so wrong with that?

 

[BenMalek]

I command thee, rise​

In a dimly lit inn room, Ainz Ooal Gown sat with Nabe by his side, his skeletal brow furrowing in concentration while reading a book. A bright flash of light manifested itself inside the room, and Remiel appeared. Ainz looked up, his skeletal face betraying no emotion as he sighted the already kneeling Remiel. Instantly he bid her to rise with his hand.

"Ah, Remiel," Ainz began, "You're here to bring a report of your activities in Baharuth, correct?"

Remiel nodded, her expression confident. "Yes, my Lord. The Baharuth Empire is effectively under our control, though they don't know it. Both the Emperor and Fluder Paradyne are now our puppets, ensuring their loyalty to Nazarick. As far as we're concerned, that flank is secure."

An unruler-like sound of 'Nani!?' came out from Lord Ainz's throat, but was swiftly covered up by a cough. Afterwards Ainz's red eyes glowed with satisfaction.

"Already? Impressive, very impressive. Excellent work. Your efficiency is commendable, especially considering Demiurge is still entangled in his operations in Re-Estize."

Remiel allowed herself a small smile. "Thank you, Lord Ainz. I did notice Lupusregina wasn't present. May I ask why?"

Ainz's tone turned stern. "Lupusregina is currently being disciplined. She killed a potentially valuable asset, the Serpent of the West, without my orders. Such recklessness cannot go unpunished."

"I see," Remiel replied, her voice steady. "It is unfortunate, but I understand the necessity. I could resurrect the asset, if you wish it to be so."

Ainz waved her away. "That's unnecessary. It's less about the beast being useful and more about Lupusregina losing control where she shouldn't have."

At that point, Narberal Gamma commented from the side. "It was quite a bloody sight. I didn't think my sister had such ferocity in her."

Ainz leaned forward, his gaze inquisitive. "But enough about her. Tell me, how exactly did you manage to subjugate the two most important people in Baharuth? And so soon?"

Remiel took a deep breath, her tone measured. "I first took Fluder. With him, his obsession with magic was the key. The man is practically addicted to knowledge, and he's been hungering for magical power all his life. A sufficient show of force as well as some promises, secured his undying loyalty to Nazarick. As for the Emperor Jircniv, I went another route, promising death and destruction should he refuse to submit. I already had a decent grasp of his personality from second-hand sources, most of whom claimed he was intelligent, and intelligent people, the sane ones at least, are predictable and tend to be risk-averse, wary of events they cannot predict or control and they fear losing what they have worked to earn. Thus, all it took was a bit of theatricality and a threat to his life and he wisely decided he'd rather remain a living Emperor instead of a dead man."

Nabe, who had been silent, interjected, "Impressive. But are they completely loyal, or is there a chance of betrayal?"

Remiel shook her head. "Their loyalty is secured through a combination of fear, ambition, and the allure of greater power. However, I do think Fluder's loyalty is a tad greater. In time he'll probably become quite zealous. As for Jircniv, we can keep him until one of his children, groomed for rulership of Baharuth and servitude to Nazarick, comes of age. On the way, maybe we can also experiment with trying to breed potentially beneficial genetic traits from valuable humans or godkin into the Imperial bloodline. It's an idea of Demiurge's. I talked about it briefly with him via [Message], but it can be shelved and taken up again in a decade or so. Regardless, both Jircniv and Fluder understand that betrayal means certain death."

Ainz nodded thoughtfully. "Very well. Now, I've heard rumors from Albedo that you brought an outsider into Nazarick. Explain yourself."

"Albedo is correct. I found a slave girl in an auction house and brought her to my room.Her name is Perska," Remiel began, "She is an orphan from a remote village that was destroyed by Theocracy forces."

"The Theocracy?" Ainz queried.

"They are at war with the dark elves. I don't know much more about the war besides the fact that it's the source of most of the elven slaves in the region." Remiel responded.

Ainz took in her words and nodded. "Continue." He bid her.

"Her case is interesting. Apparently, her biological father is the Elf King. He is known for a few things. His strength, his cruelty, his propensity for rape - Nabe tisked. "-his negligence toward his people, and also his heterochromatic eyes." At the last bit, Ainz's flaming eyes burned ever brighter.

"Heterochromatic eyes?" He asked.

"Just like Aura and Mare. The girl shares the same trait… One eye blue, the other green" Remiel said.

A moment of silence fell upon them.


"It's… one of the reasons I took her in. When I saw her there, being sold as meat, I saw Aura in her place, and a great anger was roused within me. I took the girl from those who sold her like meat and then brought vengeance on them, both the man who bought her and the man who sold her."


Another moment of silence fell, this time even more tense. "What did you do to the men?" Ainz said in a chilling voice.

"One of them is dead, the other wishes he was." Remiel replied.

"Good." Was the only word heard from the mouth of the skeletal undead.


"Also, I thought it might be beneficial for Aura and Mare to be around others of their kind, to make some friends and learn from. But I must concede, the main reason I brought the girl into Nazarick was selfishness, it was my own sentimentality." Remiel said as she bowed her head.

"I will not chastise you for it. You are simply acting according to your nature. You are free to follow it as long as your actions do not compromise Nazarick. And besides, the girl may prove useful. Does she have any abilities?"

"It appears like she's just a regular child, though her mother did train her to be a pharmacist before they were separated."

Ainz cupped his pointy calcium-rich chin. "Hmm… we could do experiments. We don't know how the natives here grow in strength."

"An excellent idea, Lord Ainz. The girl may be useless now, but with enough training she may serve as a suitable meatshield." Nabe commented from the side, and Remiel gave her a stinkeye in reply.

"Well, it's decided then." Ainz said. "Remiel, I'll leave it to you to take care of the girl's schooling and introduction to Nazarick. I want regular updates on the girl's strength, in whichever way it may manifest. If this Elf King is powerful and the girl is his descendant, she may have hidden depths."

"Thank you, my Lord." Remiel bowed her head.

"Oh, and feel free to introduce her to the twins in the coming days. Mare should be free once he finishes his work on concealing Nazarick. As a matter of fact, I'll also attend the meeting between the three of them. I'm curious."


Curiosity lingered in Remiel's mind. "May I ask, what exactly are Demiurge's activities in Re-Estize?"

"He is implementing his plans to destabilize the kingdom from within, sowing discord and manipulating key figures to our advantage," Ainz replied. "His progress is steady, but it will take time to fully achieve our goals there. But between your swift actions in Baharuth and Demiurge's meticulous work in Re-Estize, our influence is spreading well. I will read your detailed report later. For now, consider what reward you might want for your service."

Remiel considered for a moment before speaking. "I desire no reward save the opportunity to continue to serve you loyally."

Ainz shook his head. "I'd argue that I insist you receive a reward, but you'll just claim otherwise and we'll run around in circles. We'll talk of rewards some other time."

Remiel nodded. "Very well, my Lord."

"You have my permission to proceed as you did so far and act as you deem fit. You have my trust, and your dedication and efficiency continue to be invaluable to Nazarick. Keep up the good work."

Remiel bowed deeply. "I will not disappoint you, my Lord." With that, she disappeared in a flash of bright light, her mind already racing with plans for the future.

---

Fluder Paradyne sat at his desk, the late morning light streaming through the window of his study. Books and scrolls were scattered about as he meticulously penned his latest findings. His thoughts lingered on the tense meeting earlier with Emperor Jircniv and his council. The emperor's pale face and hollow eyes were a testament to the weight of their current predicament.

"The sooner he accepts his position, the better it will be for him. He'll find freedom in service, and his worries will wash away once he understands," Fluder mused.

The sudden flash of bright blue light and the distinctive sound of teleportation pulled Fluder from his thoughts. He turned to see Remiel, his new mistress, materialize in his chamber. Instantly, he jumped from his seat and prostrated himself.

"Great One," Fluder greeted her, not daring to lift his face. "You honor me with your presence. How can I assist you this morning?"

Remiel took in his prostrated form before her eyes briefly scanned the room. "Rise, Fluder." She commanded, and he did so. "I understand you had a meeting with the emperor this morning."

Fluder sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. "Yes, it was... challenging. Jircniv is under immense pressure. The situation with the nobles and the purge has left him rattled."

"But it will be done, yes?" Remiel inquired sharply.

"Yes, it will all go as you wish it, though the timescale may be extended a bit… having the purge be spread out is what the Emperor decided to do."

Remiel tisked, a sound that hit Fluder's heart like a hammer. "Fine, I suppose it's unavoidable," she said as her eyes narrowed. "And what of your task, Fluder? Have you made any progress in collecting the knowledge I seek?"

Fluder nodded, motioning to a stack of ancient tomes on his desk. "I have begun compiling texts on the real history and origin of the Six Great Gods and the Eight Greed Kings, but I have not yet had time to go over the other topics."

Remiel walked over to the desk, her fingers grazing the spine of one of the books. "Focus on this first. Your efforts are appreciated, Fluder. But remember, time is of the essence. I require this knowledge to further our plans. I can't go around stumbling in the dark."

Fluder bowed his head. "I understand. I will not rest until I have gathered all that you need."

Remiel's gaze shifted to a portrait on the wall, depicting Fluder with his students. "Tell me about your students. Have any of them shown promise?"

Fluder's face tightened with a mix of pride and frustration. "My brightest student, Sophie, shows some potential, but she is only of the fourth tier. None of them have come close to achieving what I had hoped for."

Remiel tilted her head. "And what of Arche, the one who dropped out?"

"Arche had potential," Fluder replied with a hint of sadness. "But her family issues drew her away from her studies. It is a great loss."

Remiel's eyes softened for a moment. "It is always a tragedy when potential goes unrealized. Tell me of the other one, that genius who blew himself up. What kind of student was he?"

Fluder's heart twinged with sadness at the mention of the student. He quickly composed himself. "The boy's name was Karl. He was lowborn, but not exactly a peasant. His mother was a seamstress and his father a stonemason."

Remiel took a seat, her curiosity piqued. "That type of lineage doesn't seem very conducive to magical research."

"Indeed. However, the boy was incredibly bright. His parents knew it ever since he was a toddler. They claimed he taught himself magic at four, nearly burning their house down."

Remiel glared. "A four-year-old nearly burned his house down? How is that special? It could've been a random candle."

"Not according to them. They begged at the academy for the boy to be tested. Skeptical, I agreed, thinking it a scheme. But when we put the boy in a testing environment, he summoned a fiery sprite that burned a straw puppet."

"A fiery sprite?"

"Like... no larger than a small kitten. It was somewhat aware and seemed to be the boy's friend. It had shown up when some boys were bullying him. The sprite grew as he did, standing as tall as an ogre by the time the boy was sixteen."

"How did he blow himself up?"

"The boy was practicing alchemy in his laboratory. He was always safe. Then one day, we heard a terrifying explosion and the crackling of flame. Only his charred remains were found."

"What tier was he at the time of his death?"

"Fourth tier, like Sophie. But while Sophie is a researcher, the boy was a jack-of-all-trades."

Remiel's eyes gleamed with interest. "I have time to burn now that I've finished in Baharuth. Let's go talk to him."

"He's dead."

"That won't be a problem. I'll bring him back."

"How is that possible? He is probably little more than ashes and bones by now!"

"I can bring him back. I'll return your student to you, Fluder."

"Truly? Then, Great One, let me take you to where he is buried." Fluder prostrated himself once more.

"Oh, and Fluder. Bring a shovel. I'm not going to dig for him."

"Of course."

---

Fuder stood in the scarcely visited cemetery on the outskirts of Baharuth, directing a skeletal minion wielding a shovel. The sky was bright and clear, the sunlight filtering through the trees. Remiel, standing beside him, glanced around and waved her hand, summoning dark clouds that soon unleashed a gentle rain, masking their actions. The action did not at all surprise Fluder.

Even he was capable of weather manipulation, though this was a step above.

"The boy's parents wanted him buried here," Fluder explained. "They paid for it out of their own pocket, which is why it's not an elaborate tombstone."

As the skeleton dug, Fluder continued, "Resurrection spells can backfire. Weak beings' remains can turn to ashes, or they can turn into undead. Remains are necessary for resurrection as far as I know."

Remiel, undeterred, replied, "Do not doubt me, mortal. Doubt your own knowledge. You have sworn yourself to me; go all the way. The spell I will use is a 9th tier spell called [True Resurrection]. It can bring a target back even if there's no remains or if the target was low-leveled."

Fluder nodded, awed and a bit nervous, as the skeletal minion continued its task. The rain intensified, shrouding the cemetery in a cloak of secrecy.

Remiel turned to Fluder, "Tell me more about the boy. How did he come to your attention?"

Fluder sighed, his eyes reflecting a mixture of sadness and pride. "He was exceptional. Despite his humble origins, his potential was evident. He had a natural affinity for magic, and the fire sprite he controlled was devastating in combat, especially against the undead. He was curious and driven. His talents grew rapidly under my guidance. But he grew prideful and solitary, which I suppose was to be expected. With nothing to call his own and nothing to inherit, he took pride in his mind, which was the only thing he had, really."

"Pride comes before the fall. Have you heard of this saying?" Remiel asked, her tone thoughtful.

"Can't say that I have, but it certainly sounds wise. Is it one of your own sayings?"

"Not quite. I read it in a book. I may give it to you to read someday."


Fluder nodded thoughtfully.


"It is a shame he met such an untimely end." Remiel continued. "But his story is not yet over. What of his family? How did they take his death?"

"His parents were devastated," Fluder replied, his voice tinged with regret. "They believed in his potential, and his death was a crushing blow. They buried him here, and grieved his memory."

Remiel's gaze softened slightly. "Their grief will soon turn to joy. I am curious, however, what is the view here of life after death?"

Fluder pondered the question before responding. "The various races and cultures within the World all have their own beliefs about the afterlife. For instance, the Slane Theocracy believes in their six gods, and that their death god rules over the afterlife. Other races, like the elves and dwarves, have their own myths and legends about what happens after death, often tied to their cultural and spiritual beliefs." Fluder elaborated. He paused and took a breath before continuing.

"As an example, I have heard that the dwarves say they 'return to the stone' which is to say they return to nonexistence and non-sentience yet continue to support their people by becoming part of the earth, which they venerate. And some of the elves believe that they are to be buried in the earth, and once their bodies decay, their spirits dwell in the trees and become a part of nature."

Remiel chuckled. "How cute."

"Yes, quite." Fluder said. "Personally, I was always a skeptic in this matter. The existence of undead creatures suggests a more complex relationship with the afterlife, often seen as souls forcibly bound to the mortal plane. There are those who claim that souls return to the World itself, in some great and incomprehensible and immaterial place which is the fate of all souls. There, those souls are not aware of anything, but still exist."

Remiel took his words in, but did not respond, and stared at the skeleton digging with the shovel.

"Teacher, may I ask, what is the truth about these things?" Fluder asked.


"Good question. For this world, I can't exactly say, because I do not know." Remiel stated curtly.


The response shocked Fluder. "You… don't know?"

"Correct. Now, where I come from, in that world, death was more of a temporary inconvenience than a permanent state," Remiel said, her eyes distant. "The dead, be they Players or NPCs or whatever it may be, came back to life, sooner or later, though usually weakened. As a matter of fact..."

Her voice trailed off, and she stared into the distance, her eyes blank and her face unresponsive.

Fluder panicked. "Remiel? Remiel, can you hear me?" He called out to her, but there was no response. He reached out with his hand toward her shoulder, ready to shake her awake but…

After a tense moment, Remiel blinked and shook her head, her bright hair swaying from side to side as she seemed to regain her senses. "Forgive me. A momentary lapse."

Fluder sighed in relief. "I thought I had lost you."

"It was nothing," she assured him. "Now, where were we?"

Fluder contemplated how to answer before he chose a fairly neutral and safe response. "We were discussing the untimely demise of my student."

Remiel's eyes narrowed. In the meantime, the skeleton continued to dig. "Ah, yes. Potential squandered is a tragedy. But perhaps we can still salvage something from this. Fluder, tell me more about your abilities. How does someone as old as you still live?"

Fluder took a deep breath, pondering where to begin. "I am often called the Tri-Arts Magic Caster because I have mastered three distinct schools of magic: arcane, divine, and spiritual. This mastery has earned me respect and recognition throughout the human nations."

Remiel's interest was piqued. "And what of your longevity? How does a mortal man live to be as old as you are?"

Fluder nodded. "Around a hundred and thirty years ago, I performed a complex ritual to grant myself immortality. It involved the sacrifice of many magical creatures and items, as well as deep introspection about the nature of magic itself. However, the ritual did not grant me true immortality. Instead, it significantly slowed my aging process, allowing me to live far longer than any normal human."

"And the details of this ritual?" Remiel pressed.

"The ritual required a vast amount of magical energy, rare ingredients, and precise incantations," Fluder explained. "I began by first collecting all the things I needed, most of which came from various magical creatures and monsters. I used the blood of a vampire I slew, as it is known that vampire blood can be used in alchemy to help rejuvenate someone. I combined the blood with the essence of a rejuvenating flower called the Everbloom, and magical crystals filled to the brim with mana. Additionally, I incorporated parts of long-lived animals, such as the shell of an ancient tortoise and the essence of an immortal jellyfish, both known for their longevity."

He continued, "The centerpiece of the ritual was the heart of a Dragon Lord, a rare and potent artifact. I performed the ritual within a large bonfire, using its flames to boil the ingredients into a potent elixir. This fire, infused with powerful magical energies, helped in the transmutation process."

Fluder's expression grew distant, reminiscing about the process. "The ritual was extremely dangerous and arduous. The elixir I created was meant to transfer and extend life by drawing from the essence of the Dragon Lord and the vitality of the other components. When I drank it, I felt myself being burned from the inside. The toll it took on my body and mind was immense. I would not recommend such a procedure to anyone lightly. The results, however, allowed me to continue my quest for knowledge and power."

Remiel's eyes gleamed with interest. "Impressive dedication. For now, you'll remain human, but in the future, I may correct that."

"Correct it?" Fluder asked, his voice tinged with surprise.

"Yes. There are various races which don't age, and I am one of them. Using a simple race-change item, you should be able to become a member of one of these races and thus evade the ravages of time."

Fluder's eyes widened, a mix of astonishment and gratitude washing over him. "I... I am deeply honored by your offer. To think that such a possibility exists... It's beyond anything I could have imagined."

Remiel nodded, a slight smile playing on her lips. "I won't have my servant die to something as stupid as old age. If you are to die for me, it'll be in battle, not in your bed."

Fluder bowed deeply, his voice filled with emotion. "Thank you, Great One. I am truly grateful. The prospect of continuing my studies and exploring the depths of magic without the constraints of time... It is more than I could have ever hoped for."

The skeletal minion finally hit something solid with its shovel. Fluder gestured for it to continue, and soon the rough wooden coffin was unearthed. Fluder's heart pounded as he looked at the final resting place of his most talented student.

"Stand back," Remiel commanded. Fluder stepped aside, his eyes fixed on her.

Remiel looked at the remains with a critical eye. The once proud and brilliant Karl was now reduced to a skeletal frame, his bones brittle and covered in the remnants of his burial clothes. She reached down and picked up the skull, examining it closely.

"The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?" Remiel mused. Her gaze was intense as she stared at the skull, reflecting on the ephemeral nature of existence.

She gently placed the skull back into the coffin, her eyes glinting with determination. "But today, we defy time and death itself."

"[True Resurrection]," she intoned, as she raised her hand and a great number of arcane sigils began to float in the air around her hand. A brilliant light enveloped the coffin, and Fluder watched in awe as the spell took effect.

The light faded, and the coffin lid creaked open. Fluder's breath caught in his throat as he saw Karl, alive and whole, his flesh unblemished and his clothes worn down and decayed, sitting up, looking around in confusion with his bright brown eyes.

At that moment, Fluder's heart was filled with joy.

"Wh... where am I?" Karl mumbled, his voice shaky and weak. His eyes darted around, trying to make sense of his surroundings. He tried to speak further, but only incoherent murmurs escaped his lips.

"You are back," Remiel said, a faint smile on her lips. "Welcome once more to the land of the living, boy. You have much to learn, and much to do."

Karl's eyes found Fluder, and recognition slowly dawned on his face. He tried to speak again, but his voice was still too weak, and his words came out as mumbles. However, the boy did not do anything else, as though he was genuinely confused, his trust in his teacher was such that he was willing to wait for an explanation.

Fluder fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. "Thank you, Great One. Thank you for bringing him back."

Remiel turned to him, her expression inscrutable. "Remember this moment, Fluder. There is much work to be done, and I expect your utmost dedication. Do not fail me."

Fluder nodded fervently, still overcome with emotion. "I will not fail you, Great One."

Remiel gave a curt nod. "That was a resounding success." She said as she nodded before continuing to speak. "Later today, I will bring a former slave, a young dark elf girl named Perska, to you. She is to be enrolled in the academy and provided with a private tutor."

Fluder looked up, curiosity mixing with his lingering awe. "A dark elf slave? May I ask—"

Remiel cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Her past is of no concern. What matters is her future potential. I believe she has potential, at the very least as an alchemist. You will ensure she receives the education she needs and deserves."

Fluder bowed his head. "Of course, Great One. I will see to it personally."

Remiel's gaze softened slightly. "Perska has endured much, but often it is that very same crucible that forges the strong. Treat her with the same dedication you would any of your finest students."

Fluder nodded once more, determination filling his heart. "I will. Thank you for this opportunity."

Remiel's expression returned to its usual inscrutability. "Do not disappoint me, Fluder. Remember the weight of the gifts and responsibilities you bear."

Fluder felt a renewed sense of purpose surging through him. He had been given so many gifts, and he was determined not to squander them. With steady hands and focused resolve, he approached Karl's grave.

"You won't need to spend even a moment here any longer." Fluder said.

With a deep breath, the old man knelt beside the coffin and began to help Karl out of the grave. Though Fluder was an old man, he was not a complete physical weakling. After a few moments where the boy struggled to control his limbs, he eventually managed to leave the grave. Once outside, Karl looked around in confusion, and as the reality of his situation dawned on him, he tried to vomit. Unfortunately, his stomach was empty, and all he managed was a painful grimace. Fluder's heart ached at the sight, but he knew it would soon pass after Karl had a warm meal.

Once Karl was freed from his former resting place, Fluder wasted no time. He summoned his mastery over earth magic to begin filling in the grave, while Remiel's wind magic swept the debris and remnants away with practiced precision.

The ground began to shift and settle, the grave being quickly restored to a decent state. Although rumors of the boy's resurrection would likely spread, Fluder was never one to leave a mess when it wasn't necessary.

Seemingly satisfied with his work, Remiel nodded at Fluder and spoke. "Well, now that we're done here, let's return to your office."

Without hesitation, Fluder grabbed Karl by the arm and approached Remiel, dragging the boy behind him. Remiel waited until they were sufficiently close, before her teleportation spell enveloped them in a shimmering light. With a flash, they vanished from the graveyard.

Moments later, they reappeared in the grandeur of Fluder's study. The room was lined with shelves of magical tomes and artifacts, the air filled with peace. As the shimmering light faded, Karl's stomach growled loudly, breaking the silence.

Remiel raised an eyebrow and smirked slightly. "Ah, the hunger of the freshly revived. Here, have a fishstick." She reached into her inventory and pulled out a fishstick, which she handed to Karl.

Karl accepted the fishstick with eager hands and devoured it ravenously, as if he hadn't eaten in days. Or years. Which he hadn't, really.

Fluder watched the scene with a bemused expression. "I never knew being dead made you so hungry," he remarked, shaking his head.

As Karl continued to eat, Fluder's mind raced with plans and possibilities. This was just the beginning. He would gather the knowledge Remiel sought and ensure that his students reached their full potential. For the future of Baharuth and the glory of his Great One, he would not falter.

As Karl's stomach continued to rumble, Fluder and Remiel exchanged a glance. Remiel's laugh was hearty and loud, and she began rummaging through her inventory again, ready to address Karl's newfound appetite.

 

[BenMalek]

Gharq dar Tandis-hā-ye Guzashteh​

Remiel gazed at the mountain, her mountain, on the 8th floor of Nazarick, the air crisp and cool against her skin. The ever-present storm that shrouded the mountain's peak continued to rage, never ceasing, and one would not make a mistake in thinking the storm was alive and desired victims to unleash its wrath upon.

After teleporting past the storm to the mountain's peak, her eyes fell upon a small figure playing with the Brave Lioness she had summoned earlier. The creature's golden fur glistened in the sunlight, and it seemed to be enjoying the company of the young elf girl, Perska. Perska's laughter filled the air, a delightful sound that brought a smile to Remiel's face.

"Perska," Remiel called out, her voice gentle yet commanding.

The young elf looked up, her eyes widening with joy. She immediately dropped the stick she had been using to play with the Brave Lioness and rushed towards Remiel, her small feet barely touching the ground.

"Remiel!" Perska exclaimed, throwing herself into Remiel's arms.

Remiel hugged her tightly, feeling the warmth and innocence of the child seep into her. "Hello, little one. I hope you've not been terribly bored while I've been away."

Perska nodded enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling. "Yes! I mean no! The Brave Lioness is so much fun. She's so strong and kind. And she lets me play with her tail."

Remiel chuckled. "I wouldn't recommend yanking the tail of a lion. I'm pretty sure there's a saying for that. But, I'm glad you like her," Remiel said, stroking Perska's hair. "But I need to talk to you about something important."

Perska's expression turned serious, and she stepped back, looking up at Remiel with curiosity. "Yes?"

Remiel knelt down to Perska's level, her eyes meeting the young elf's. "Perska, I want you to go to the Imperial Magic Academy, in Baharuth. I want you to learn magic and pharmacy there."

Perska's eyes widened in fear, and she took a step back. "The Academy… What's that?"

"It's like a very big school, and there's all kinds of young people there, and they're all there to learn."

"But... but the Academy.. It'll be filled with humans, right? I'm scared of them."

Remiel placed a comforting hand on Perska's shoulder. "I understand your fear, little one. They wronged you and your family, but not all of them are as bad as you imagine them to be. At the Academy, you'll have the opportunity to learn and grow. You'll become stronger and more knowledgeable."

"But what if they don't like me?" Perska whispered, her voice trembling.

Remiel smiled reassuringly. "What's there not to like? You're a joy, and they will see that. And I'll make sure you are protected. Fluder Paradyne, the head of the Academy, is a powerful and wise man. He will ensure your safety and give you the education you deserve. And he's also my servant, so he has vested interest in keeping you safe."

Perska bit her lip, still unsure. "But why can't I stay here and learn from you?"

"Because," Remiel said gently, "I believe you can achieve great things at the Academy. You'll have access to resources and knowledge that I can't provide here. That, and I too am busy and must work, and that means spending time away from you, for days perhaps. You don't want to stay trapped up here on this mountain with days on end, with no one to keep you company but the flowers, do you?"

Perska looked back at the Brave Lioness, who was now lying down, watching them with calm, golden eyes. The lioness gave a soft rumble, as if encouraging Perska.

"Do you really think I can do it?" Perska asked, her voice a mixture of hope and doubt.

"I know you can," Remiel said firmly. "You have a bright future ahead of you, Perska. The Academy is just the first step towards achieving your full potential."

Perska took a deep breath, her fear slowly giving way to determination. "Okay," she said finally. "I'll go to the Academy. I'll learn magic there. And I'll make you proud, Miss Remiel."

Remiel smiled, her heart swelling with pride as she patted the girl's head. "I'm sure you will. Now, let's go and prepare for your journey."

---

Remiel and Perska stood at the gates of the Imperial Magic Academy, the grandeur of the place only slightly intimidating to the young elf. Fluder Paradyne, with his long white beard and wise eyes, awaited them, a gentle smile on his face.

"Fluder, this is Perska," Remiel said, introducing the girl. "She will be under your care and guidance."

Fluder's eyes softened as he looked at Perska. "Welcome, Perska. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Perska clung to Remiel's side, her fear of humans still evident. Fluder knelt down to her level, his smile warm and reassuring. "You don't need to be afraid, my dear. The Academy is a place of learning and wonder."

To ease her nerves, Fluder waved his hand, casting a small spell. The air around them shimmered, and a cascade of colorful fireworks erupted above their heads, each explosion forming a beautiful pattern in the sky. Perska's eyes widened in amazement, her fear momentarily forgotten.

"Wow!" she exclaimed, her face lighting up with delight.

Fluder chuckled softly. "Magic can be quite wondrous, can't it? And you will learn to create such wonders yourself."

Remiel gently nudged Perska forward. "Go on, girl. Fluder will take good care of you."

Perska looked up at Remiel, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and excitement. "Will you visit me?"

"Of course," Remiel assured her. "I'll visit whenever I can. But I'm very busy, so I can't spend much time with you right now. Next time I visit, I'll show you some grand sights and introduce you to two other dark elf children, the twins Aura and Mare. They would be great friends together."

Perska's face brightened at the prospect. "Really? That sounds amazing!"

Fluder extended his hand to Perska, who hesitated for a moment before taking it. "Come, Perska. Let me show you around the Academy."

As they walked through the grand hallways of the Academy, Fluder pointed out various rooms and areas. "This is the library, where you will find books on every subject imaginable. And over there is the potion lab, where you will learn the art of pharmacy."

Perska's eyes were wide with wonder as she took in her new surroundings. "It's so big."

Fluder smiled. "Indeed it is. But you will soon grow accustomed to it. And you will have many friends here."

He led her to a large classroom, where several students were practicing their spells. "This is where you will learn to harness your magic. The teachers here are very knowledgeable and will help you every step of the way."

Perska looked up at Fluder, her fear slowly dissipating. "Do you think I can really do it?"

Fluder knelt down beside her, his eyes kind and encouraging. "I believe so. I have heard that you have talent, and we will help you nurture it."

Perska smiled, her confidence growing. "Thank you, Mister Fluder."

"Now," Fluder said, standing up, "let's get you settled into your new room. You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow."

As they walked down the hallway, Perska glanced back at the entrance, where Remiel had stood.

Fluder led Perska through the winding hallways of the Imperial Magic Academy, his presence calming her nerves. They stopped at a large wooden door adorned with intricate carvings of magical symbols.

"This will be your room, Perska," Fluder said, opening the door to reveal a cozy, well-furnished dormitory room. It had two beds, each with a small desk and a bookshelf beside it. The room was warm and inviting, with sunlight streaming in through a large window.

A human girl about Perska's size was already inside, organizing her belongings on her side of the room. She had chestnut brown hair tied back in a loose braid, and her green eyes sparkled with curiosity and friendliness. She wore a neat blue-ish uniform that consisted of a jacket with gold buttons, a white blouse underneath, and a knee-length skirt. The uniform was both practical and stylish, reflecting the academy's blend of tradition and modernity.

The girl looked up as they entered, a smile spreading across her face. "Hello! You must be Perska. I'm Elara."

Perska hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, glancing back at Fluder for reassurance. He nodded encouragingly. "Go on, Perska. Elara is very friendly."

Elara walked over and extended her hand. "It's nice to meet you, Perska. I'm really excited to have a roommate. We'll have so much fun together!"

Perska shook her hand, a shy smile forming on her lips. "Nice to meet you too, Elara."

Elara's enthusiasm was infectious. "I'm so glad you're here! I love reading and experimenting with new spells, especially anything related to elemental magic. I also enjoy gardening; we have a little garden here at the academy where herbs and flowers are grown. What about you? What do you like to do?"

Perska glanced at Fluder again, feeling a bit overwhelmed. "I... I like reading too. And, um, learning about different plants."

Fluder watched the interaction with a pleased expression. He could see that Perska was beginning to warm up to her new surroundings, and Elara's friendly demeanor was certainly helping. And though he did not know why his teacher wanted the girl trained, he would obey her commands nonetheless.

As Elara continued to chat excitedly about their shared interests, Fluder gently closed the door, leaving the two girls to get acquainted. He knew that Perska was in good hands and that she would thrive at the Academy.

With a final glance back, he walked down the hallway, his mind already turning to the work that he was commissioned to do. His Great One had that her business in Arwintar was mostly concluded, and it'd be a while before they saw each other again. Until such a time came, Fluder would obey her orders and devote his hours diligently, while meditating on what went on inside such an incomprehensible mind.

---

Walking through the bustling streets of the Imperial Capital, I found myself lost in a fog of memories, the recent encounter with Fluder still haunting my thoughts. The city around me thrived with activity: merchants called out their wares, children laughed and played, and the clatter of horse-drawn carriages resonated on the cobblestone streets. Yet, I felt a profound detachment, my mind wandering through the corridors of my mind.

As Fluder had asked about the nature of the afterlife, I recalled moments from my own lifetime, or rather lifetimes? Whatever it may be, those memories seemed to have surfaced unbidden. Memories of ceremonies and celebrations, both joyous and solemn, flickered in my mind like old photographs.

I remembered attending a grand wedding, the bride radiant in her white gown, the groom standing tall and proud beside her. The hall had been filled with laughter and music, the air thick with the scent of fresh flowers. I had watched from the sidelines, a silent observer to their happiness, feeling both connected and apart. Like I never really belonged there, like it was all just for show.

Another memory surfaced of a funeral, a stark contrast to the wedding's joy. The somber tones of the priest's voice as he delivered the eulogy, the weeping mourners clad in black, and the heavy scent of incense filled the small chapel. I had stood at the back, contemplating the fragile nature of life and the inevitability of death, emotions too complex to untangle swirling within me. I don't even know who it was that died and was buried, who they were to me, or where and when it happened, but the event was there, in my mind.

Religious services were another constant in my past, their rituals and prayers a backdrop to my existence. I remembered the soft hum of hymns, the flickering candles casting shadows on ancient stone walls, and the feeling of reverence that permeated the space. These moments, steeped in tradition and faith, had always left me with a sense of peace, yet also a longing for answers that remained elusive. A question asked over and over again. Why?

As I continued to walk, the lively scenes of street performers and festival celebrations came to mind. The people or Arwintar seemed to be rather careless and callous towards the crimes of their countrymen. But can I blame them? They must rise and go out and work then sleep. They are mortal, limited by their biological needs and their own lack of power and understanding. Were I one of them, would I really care about things like justice or purpose, or would I simply care that I have what I need day to day and that I can find some small amount of joy where and when I could?

The vibrant colors, the exuberant dances, and the shared laughter of communities coming together in joy and unity. It seemed that this world had its own joy, unperturbed by the powers that loomed in the shadow, invisible until they struck, like a serpent in the grass.

They carry on with their lives, ever ignorant. They do not know that if Lord Ainz were to give the order, not a single creature would survive. And should they?

They are born, they live, they die, and all that is left of them is the memories others have of them.


Yet, amidst my memories, if they belong to me that is, which I am still somewhat skeptical of, there were darker, more introspective moments. I recalled standing alone in a cemetery, the air thick with the weight of loss. The cold, grey tombstones seemed to echo the silence within my soul. I remember cleaning the tombstone, dirty from the muddy rain, cracked from the heat of the sun. I remember becoming enraged upon seeing a random dog urinate on it, and grabbing a nearby stone, throwing it at the mutt, braining it at that same moment and watching its lifeblood spill, the earth drinking it greedily. I remember thinking that it was a bad moment, a sin, to kill an animal in that manner, and I also remember distinctly enjoying it when the dog died.


I think had often pondered the mysteries of life and death in such places, holy places and cemeteries, grappling with questions that had no clear answers.

Fluder's question about the afterlife had touched a nerve, bringing these memories to the forefront. I had seen so much in my time, experienced the full spectrum of human emotion, yet I know that by my nature I am ageless. I do not 'grow' nor do I grow old. As I am now, I have always been that way and I always will be. And before coming to this World, I had never left the Great Tomb.

The dead back in Yggdrasil had always returned, a temporary state, a mere speedblock, rather than a permanent one. It was attested from every possible source and every person. But here, in this world, the rules were different. Death was final, that is unless an outside force intervened.

As I walked through the city, I noticed a young couple walking hand in hand, their faces glowing with the excitement of youth and love. I couldn't help but smile, reminded of similar moments I had witnessed in my past. Nearby, a group of children were gathered around a street performer, their eyes wide with wonder as he performed tricks and illusions. Their laughter was infectious, and for a moment, I smiled.

I passed by a small bakery, the scent of freshly baked bread wafting through the air. It brought about a feeling of nostalgia, though I knew not why. What need have I for food, or water, or even air? I don't need those things. I never have.

Continuing my walk, I came upon a birthday celebration in a small courtyard. The guests, both young and old, were gathered around a large table laden with food and gifts. The birthday child, a little girl with sun-kissed skin, tiny white teeth with gaps between them, an infectious smile that went from ear to ear, was wearing a crown of flowers. The girl was beaming with joy. It was a heartwarming scene.

Eventually, I found myself in a park, a serene oasis amidst the city's hustle and bustle. It was no Nazarick, but it was a quaint place that nonetheless offered some measure of peace. Stone benches were scattered around, and a small fountain gurgled softly in the center. The trees, tall and strong oak, provided a canopy of shade, and the air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers.

I sat down on one of the benches, the cool stone a welcome relief. My mind was still a whirlwind of thoughts and memories, but the tranquility of the park helped me find some semblance of peace. I pondered what to do now that Baharuth had effectively been conquered. What to do next? There were so many nations to take care of, and those were just the ones I knew of, the ones in the immediate vicinity.

My thoughts drifted back to a past conversation with a particular man. I remembered the discussion with that priest in E-Rantel, his self-righteousness and narrow-mindedness, and just plain ignorance infuriating me. He dogmatically insisted and spoke with the words that only someone brought up in a belief system that had never questioned it could. The mortal thought he knew what constituted divinity. The fool. I could grasp him by the neck and fly above the atmosphere, and show him that there is nothing above the world but the void between the sun and stars.

In contrast, my conversation with Fluder had been enlightening, though it had stirred up old wounds. When he asked about the afterlife, and my response had been uncertain, my mind clouded with memories of my own experiences.

When I told him about the nature of death in Yggdrasil, my words had trailed off as I became lost in thought.

Among these reflections, one of the most powerful ones was my first moment of existence. I recalled my awakening for the first time in Nazarick. Seeing my creator, Wish III, a powerful genie, filled me with awe. He was a figure of immense power, his presence commanding and enigmatic. I remembered the joy in his eyes when he first saw me awaken, a creator proud of his creation. Yet, there was also a solemnity to him, a weight that he carried. He spoke animatedly with his friends, the fellow Supreme Beings of Nazarick, and bragged to them all the while about me, stating that I was a perfect masterpiece.

Those words made me feel proud to be.

A particular memory stood out: Wish III sitting down next to me, reading from something called the "One Thousand and One Nights." His voice was soothing, each word weaving a tapestry of stories filled with magic and wonder. He did not speak in Japanese, which was and is the language most of the Supreme Being spoke in, but the language he used was a beautiful language nonetheless. I remember wanting to break free at that moment and talk to him about so many things and hug him. But I could not.

I wanted to, but I could not. I never hugged him. He was my father and I never told him that I loved him. Why? What stopped me?

This memory, bittersweet, stood in stark contrast to the brutal defense of Nazarick during the attack by the Eight Guild Alliance. I remembered the chaos, the desperation, and just how much I terrified the mongrels that dared invade my home. It took them more than a dozen to even give me a sweat, yet when I summoned Behemoth and they saw that they could do little to him but make him stronger, they shivered in fear. Nevertheless, they slew the beast, and by that time I had already used my trump cards and my strength was spent. Soon after Behemoth fell, I followed him.

The memory of a spear catching me in the chest, thrown by that shirtless human, the shock and pain as it pierced through me, was vivid and visceral.

I had never hated anyone so much as I hated that man at that moment. He had killed me. He made me fail my duty. I wanted to rip him apart with my own hands.

As I sat on the bench, I couldn't help but wonder what had truly happened in the past and what lay ahead in the future. These memories, how much did they affect who and what I was? I knew that each of the NPCs, including myself, from the maids to the Floor Guardians, had a unique personality, granted to them by their creator.

Like a symphony, each musical instrument was unique, but meant to work in concert, producing something greater than the sum of its parts. Yet…


The sun had begun to set. How long had I lingered here? It was noon when I was at the academy.

No matter.

Yes, the park was a place of solace, a momentary escape from the weight of my thoughts, but I still had work to do, and could not linger here forever.

I have been handed authority from Lord Ainz to act with near complete autonomy. It's a privilege I think only Demiurge and Albedo have been awarded beside myself. It's a sign of his trust in me. It's a sign that I cannot fail.

Baharuth is for all intents and purposes, conquered. Maybe I should visit that priest in E-Rantel once more. I promised myself that I'd smite the man. Once I do, I'll know what I must do next. Perhaps I should visit the Theocracy next?

 

[BenMalek]

Hasard au Mauvais Endroit​

The moon hung low in the night sky, casting an eerie glow over the open plains. The road from E-Rantel to Re-Estize's capital stretched out, a ribbon of dirt cutting through the landscape. Not far from the road, a hill rose up, its rocky face dotted with the entrances to a network of caves. Brita and her team crouched in the shadows, their eyes fixed on the largest of these entrances.

"Alright, this is it," Brita whispered, her voice barely audible over the gentle rustling of the night breeze. "We split here. Half of us will attack from the front entrance. The rest will come in from the secret entrance we found. We'll trap them inside."

The group nodded in agreement, checking their weapons and gear one last time. Brita's keen eyes scanned her comrades: the burly man with the scar, the slender man with the mischievous grin, the stern-faced woman with piercing eyes, and the young, eager woman with bright eyes. Each one was ready, determined to prove themselves.

"Alright," Brita continued, "you three come with me. The rest of you, head to the front entrance. We move in sync—no one goes in until we're all in position."

"Got my bombs ready," the tall man said with a grin, patting a satchel slung over his shoulder.

The slender man nodded, holding up a pouch filled with caltrops. "We'll scatter these to slow them down if they try to escape."

"I've got healing potions and some antidotes," the young woman added, her expression serious. "Just in case things go south."

"Good," Brita said, a determined edge in her voice. "We have the element of surprise. Let's use it."

The team split silently, their movements reflecting their practiced stealth. Brita led her group towards the hidden entrance they had scouted earlier, a narrow fissure in the rock that led into the cave system. The moonlight bathed the hill in a soft silver glow, casting the entrance into shadow and shrouding their approach.

At about thirty feet from the entrance, Brita signaled for a halt. The source of her caution was clear: the distant, anguished scream of a man cut through the night, a chilling cry that even reached them from their current position.

Brita drew her steel, her companions mimicking her actions with swift precision. They exchanged nervous glances but remained silent, their focus sharpening on the unsettling sounds ahead.

Brita motioned for her team to advance cautiously, each member moving with a heightened sense of urgency. The forest around them was unnaturally quiet, the usual nighttime sounds hushed by the eerie atmosphere.

Suddenly, a figure burst from the side tunnel, sprinting past them with a frantic energy. Brain Unglaus, the renowned blue-haired swordsman, emerged from the darkness, his eyes wide with terror. Tears streamed down his face as he fled, barely acknowledging the team's presence.

"Is that… Brain Unglaus?" one of Brita's companions asked, his voice trembling.

"Yeah, it is," another replied, astonishment clear in his tone. "What could have happened to him? He's one of the best swordsmen around—why would he be fleeing like that?"

"I've heard stories about him," a third companion added, trying to piece together the scene. "He was supposed to be in that big tournament, wasn't he? Lost just narrowly to Gazef Stronoff."

Brita glanced at her companions, noting their concerned expressions. "Forget about Brain for now. Focus on what's coming next."

Before anyone could respond, the tunnel from which Brain had fled began to expel a new horror. Emerging from the darkness was a figure that defied all reason. The vampire was clad in a raggedy black dress, the tatters of fabric fluttering wildly as she moved. She scuttled forward on both her arms and legs, her movement resembling a maddened beast more than a creature of grace.

Her eyes were a fiery crimson, gleaming with an insatiable bloodlust that seemed to emanate from every pore of her being. Her skin was ashen, and the sight of her in that grotesque posture sent shivers down the spines of the team. There was no elegance in her approach, just raw, unfiltered carnage and madness.

The vampire's gaze briefly met theirs, a fleeting moment that filled the team with an icy dread. The terror was immediate and overwhelming, like a crushing weight on their chests. The air grew heavy with a sense of impending doom.

---

Shalltear's POV

Shalltear licked her lips, tasting the blood of her latest victim. The madness of her bloodlust slowly ebbed, but the hunger still gnawed at her insides. She surveyed the carnage, satisfied with the destruction she had wrought. The mercenaries had been nothing more than cattle, led to the slaughter, ambushed and trapped though they knew not why and how, their lives snuffed out in an instant.

"More... need more..." she muttered, her voice a harsh whisper. The thrill of the hunt was intoxicating, but it left her craving more.

A distant sound caught her attention, and she turned to see one of her minions approaching. The Vampire Bride knelt before her, her voice silky smooth and seductive. "Mistress Shalltear, we destroyed a group of humans who tried to enter from the cave entrance. A man among them claims there is a second group who will attack the cave from the hidden entrance."

Shalltear's crimson eyes narrowed, a wicked smile spreading across her face. "The one the blue-haired man used to run away? Excellent. More prey for me. That human was such a tease. Shame he ran away. Oh well! Better luck next time!"

She moved swiftly, her form a blur as she emerged from the cave and into the moonlit night. Ahead, she spotted the approaching group—another band of adventurers, it seemed. Red covered her sight, and she knew death would follow. The cattle were frozen in fear.

As she drew closer, she caught sight of a large group of adventurers, numbering half a dozen. There was a rather cute face among them. A red-haired woman that would definitely earn herself at least a temporary place in her harem. An abominable fire of rage and hunger and lust ignited within Shalltear, and she lunged forward with terrifying speed. All she could think about was violating and penetrating and drinking from the woman.

"Blood... need blood!" she screamed, her claws slashing through the air.

First was a man who tried to rush Shalltear with a spear. It was a pathetic attempt, as she somersaulted over his lunge and decapitated him with a swift strike of her nails, sharper than steel.

The blood burst from his neck like a fountain, and before his head had even dropped to the floor, Shalltear had lunged at a woman who looked like a priestess, the woman lifting her hands in a pathetic attempt at fighting back. There was no chance for the woman however.

Shalltear bit into her sweet and pale neck, and drank her dry in seconds, the woman's form becoming a shriveled husk.

A crossbowman companion of Brita shot a bolt aimed at the beast while it was feasting on the priestess, but it bounced off her skin like it was less than a pebble.

One of Brita's companions saw this, and took decisive action. The tall man took out one of the alchemic bombs he carried in his leather pouch. The bomb was crafted by the magicians at the Mages Guild, and functioned by emitting intense heat to more or less burn whatever it hit alive instead of just exploding. The man lit the fuse and threw it at the vampire, straight on.

It landed straight.

The vampire did not burn. It didn't even seem to notice the fire that was snuffed out near-instantaneously. As recompense toward the man however, the orb above her head that had been collecting blood from her victims all this time, shot out a crystallized stake of blood, no bigger than a finger. The speed of the object was too fast for the adventurers to even see, but they did see the devastation of said stake when it collided with the man's skull, exploding it into a hundred juicy pieces.

All the while, the vampire was screaming and laughing and breathing raggedly, like some demon out of hell.


"This is hell!" one of the adventurer's shouted in a panic, the man's courage broken, and the man ran away as fast as he could toward the forest, which wasn't far. He ran away bravely in fear of his life. Shalltear let him. She'd catch him later.

"It's only fun if they run." The thought was so instinctual to her that even in her bloodlusted state, Shalltear relished the hunt of the fleeing prey.

A bowman, standing not far from the crossbow man's corpse, fired again, but just as the bolt did nothing, so too did the arrow do nothing. Nothing but anger her.

The vampire swiftly leapt toward the blonde-haired man and using her claws, raked the man across the chest, tearing apart pounds of blood, bone and flesh, leaving giant claw-marks in the man's corpse as an autograph.




As Shalltear began to feast on the man's still-beating heart, Brita's eyes widened in horror. The scene was nightmarish; the vampire's voracious consumption was done with a speed and ferocity that left her companions paralyzed with dread. One of the men, overcome by fear, urinated himself. The acrid smell of urine filled the air, and Shalltear's rage was immediately provoked. She sprang at the man, decapitating him with a swift swipe of her claws.


In a desperate move, Brita threw a vial of something at Shalltear. The vampire didn't care about the vial, as it could not hurt her, but when the contents of the vial splashed onto her arm and it burned her, and she saw that the contents of the vial was a potion, a red healing potion, she stopped in her place.

Shalltear's mind raced. She knew this potion. It was an Yggdrasil healing potion, something that should harm her, given her undead nature. But she realized that mortal healing potions were typically blue. This red potion was an anomaly, and its presence was unsettling.

Fear and rage warred within her as she realized the implications.

"Did I mess up the master's plans?" Shalltear thought, fear mingling with her rage. "Is this woman important?"

Her bloodlust momentarily cooled by the realization, Shalltear commanded her orb to shoot out a few more crystallized stakes, ending the lives of the remaining adventurers in an instant. Her focus then returned to Brita, who was trembling and backing away in fear.



Shalltear commanded her orb to shoot out a few more crystallized stakes that instantly ended the lives of the few other survivors so far, before standing upright, her monstrous form giving way to her perfectly chiseled visage of beauty.


Shalltear's hand reached out and grasped the woman by her neck, lifting her up as easily as one would lift up a daisy from the ground. Her crimson eyes met the woman's green.

"Serve me." Shalltear commanded, and within moments the woman lost all willpower and became nothing but a slave, her voice weak and her eyes glassy.

"Where did you get this?" Shalltear demanded, her voice a barely restrained growl, beautiful and terrifying in equal measure.

Brita, trembling, tried to back away. "It was... it was given to me by an adventurer in E-Rantel!"

Shalltear's eyes blazed with fury. "You lie!" She lunged forward, grabbing Brita by the throat and lifting her off the ground. "Tell me the truth, or I will drain you dry!"

Brita's eyes rolled back in her head as Shalltear's hypnotic gaze bore into her. "The adventurer... was from the Adventurer's Guild... He said it was a gift... for helping him..."

Shalltear's mind raced. If this potion was connected to Ainz-sama, she had to know more. But first, she had to deal with this intruder. "You will tell me everything you know," she commanded, her voice a chilling whisper.

Brita nodded weakly, her will completely bent to Shalltear's. "Yes... I will tell you everything..."

Shalltear's grip tightened, and she began to interrogate Brita, searching for the information she needed. Her mind filled with images and thoughts, and she pieced together the puzzle with a growing sense of dread. If Ainz-sama's plans had been disrupted, she would be held accountable. The weight of that realization bore down on her, but she pushed it aside. She had a task to complete.

Satisfied with Brita's compliance, Shalltear released her, letting her body fall limply to the ground. She summoned her vampiric minions, dark creatures of the night emerging from the shadows. Wolves and bats with eyes glowing like embers awaited her command.

"Find the ranger, wherever he is!" Shalltear ordered. "We cannot afford any loose ends!"

---

The Forest of Tob loomed ahead, its dense foliage casting shadows under the pale moonlight. The Black Scripture moved with purpose, their senses sharpened by the gravity of their mission. Their target was the Catastrophe Dragon Lord, a being of immense power that threatened the very stability of the Slane Theocracy.

The Captain led the way, his androgynous features and long black hair giving him an almost ethereal appearance under the moonlight. His sharp red eyes scanned the surroundings, ever alert for any sign of danger. Clad in ornate armor and wielding a humble-looking spear, he exuded an aura of calm determination.

"Did anyone catch that play in Re-Estize last week?" Time Turbulence asked, adjusting his spiral-patterned rapier. "I heard it was quite the spectacle."

Callous Lancer chuckled, his short blond hair glinting in the moonlight. "You mean the one about the rogue knight and the princess? I saw it. The effects were impressive, especially for a theater production."

Lady Kaire, dressed in her white cheongsam embroidered with a golden dragon, smiled softly. "I didn't see it, but I've heard good things. Perhaps we should catch it when we return."

One Man Army, Quaiesse Hazia Quintia, tightened his grip on the rings that contained his tamed beasts. "My sister would have loved it. She always had a soft spot for those romantic tales."

Callous Lancer chided him. "You really can't let your sister go, even after all this time. Even after all she's done?"

One Man Army had no response.

Cedran, the tall, muscular man known for his stern demeanor, crossed his arms. "I heard Lady Kaire's niece got married recently. How was the ceremony?"

Lady Kaire's serene expression softened further. "It was beautiful. A small gathering, but filled with love and joy. They make a lovely couple."

Infinite Magic, with her frail appearance belying her immense power, spoke up. "Speaking of gatherings, I saw an intriguing magical trinket at the market. A small orb that changes color based on the holder's mood. Quite a novelty."

Beaumarchais, Divine Chain, added, "Sounds like something the old man would have enjoyed playing with. He had a fondness for unusual items, at least before he became a cardinal."

"You knew him? Before, I mean?" Cedran asked.

"I did. He's a lot more boring now, to be honest." Beamarchais replied,and it caused Cedran to chuckle.

The Captain, ever focused, allowed himself a small smile. "It's good to hear about such things. It reminds us of what we're protecting."

The mood was light, the camaraderie palpable as they moved deeper into the forest. The silence was unnerving, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves. The group communicated with subtle hand signals and brief whispers, maintaining their stealth as they advanced.

"Captain," Thousand Leagues Astrologer called softly, pointing ahead. "There's something up ahead."

The Captain raised a hand, signaling for the group to halt. They crouched low, blending into the shadows, as they listened intently. The faint rustle of leaves and the distant howl of a creature broke the silence, but there was something else—something closer.

"There's something ahead," the Captain murmured, his eyes narrowing. "Prepare yourselves."

The Black Scripture moved forward cautiously, their senses on high alert. As they approached a clearing, the sight that met their eyes was both unexpected and horrifying. Corpses of mercenaries lay scattered around, their bodies mutilated and drained of blood. The stench of death hung heavy in the air.

"These wounds... they're fresh," Kaire noted, examining one of the bodies. "Whatever did this is still nearby."

A sudden, guttural growl echoed through the clearing, sending a shiver down their spines. Emerging from the shadows, monstrous creatures with glowing red eyes and blood-soaked fangs appeared. Terrifying and unnatural wolves, bigger and meaner than any normal wolf born in she-wolfs womb, their mouths slick with gore, had found them. And they looked ready to spill blood.

"Engage!" the Captain commanded, and the Black Scripture sprang into action.

Time Turbulence and Callous Lancer moved with practiced precision, their weapons cutting through the air with deadly accuracy. Infinite Magic invoked powerful spells, casting lightning bolts that illuminated the dark trees that loomed ominously above them. One Man Army jumped into the fight with his short swords, not willing to unleash his summoned beasts just yet.

The battle was fierce but swift. The Black Scripture's coordinated attacks and overwhelming power quickly subdued the vampiric wolves, leaving a pile of lifeless bodies in their wake. It wasn't even a challenge to them.

"These are no ordinary beasts," Cedran said, wiping blood from his blade. "They're summoned creatures. Someone is controlling them."

Before anyone could respond, a figure emerged from the darkness. A mad figure, covered head to toe in blood, with ashy skin and glowing crimson eyes. They all knew what it was.

A vampire.

---

The creatures of the night dispersed into the forest, their forms melting into the darkness as they began their search. Shalltear remained in the shadows, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts as she considered the implications of the potion and the potential disruption to her master's plans.

As Shalltear's vampiric minions dispersed into the forest, her mind buzzed with thoughts. The red potion was a glaring anomaly, a potential threat to Ainz-sama's intricate plans. She couldn't afford to let any detail slip past her scrutiny.

Her moment of contemplation was abruptly shattered. Through the mental link she shared with her summons, she felt a sudden, jarring disruption. One by one, the connections to her wolves and bats were severed with a horrifying finality.

"What?" Shalltear's eyes widened in shock, her heart pounding in her chest. "My minions... all of them... dead?"

The wolves that had dashed into the forest, and the bats that had flown among the trees, all searching for the escaped ranger, were gone. An icy dread crept through Shalltear's veins, mingling with a burning rage.

"Who dares?" she thought, her mind consumed by a seething fury. Her bloodlust surged, obliterating any semblance of rational thought. Her body contorted, adopting a monstrous form as she dropped onto all fours.

She growled, her voice a guttural snarl, spoken words becoming an impossibility. Her eyes, burning with rage, scanned the forest ahead. She launched herself forward, racing through the forest with a speed and ferocity that would put the fastest hunters of nature to shame. Her limbs moved in a savage rhythm, propelling her forward like a maddened beast.

Branches whipped against her, leaves rustling in her wake as she closed the distance to the source of her rage. The appeal of murder filled her heart, driving her to the brink of madness.

As she burst through the trees, she saw them—a group of twelve humans, each one distinct in appearance, their presence an affront to her existence. Their armor and weapons gleamed in the moonlight, reflecting an eerie, cold light. Some wore heavy plate armor, others donned lighter, more flexible garb, and a few were dressed in robes, marking them as spellcasters. The diversity in their equipment and attire indicated a group of formidable warriors, each specialized in their own deadly craft.

Shalltear's eyes locked onto one figure in particular. The aura of power surrounding this human marked them as the strongest of the group. The captain, with androgynous features and sharp red eyes, stood at the forefront. The captain's presence was commanding, exuding a confidence that only fueled Shalltear's fury.

"You! You're to blame!" Shalltear's thoughts were a chaotic whirl as her bloodlust surged, overwhelming any semblance of rational thought.

The other humans turned towards the source of the noise, their expressions shifting from confusion to alarm as they beheld the charging vampire. But Shalltear's focus was unyielding, her gaze locked onto the captain. Her claws extended, ready to rend flesh from bone, her fangs bared in a snarl of unrestrained ferocity.

"Die!" Shalltear roared, her voice filled with a murderous intent as she lunged at the captain, aiming to instantly kill. But the captain, reacting with remarkable speed, leaped away from her initial strike. Shalltear's claws slashed through empty air, her prey narrowly escaping her deadly grasp.

Confusion and anger roared within Shalltear, her rage intensifying. How could a mere human evade her? Her eyes blazed with renewed fury as she whipped around, her bloodlust driving her to attack again.

She would not let any of them survive.

AN: We're getting into it now.

 

[BenMalek]

Za'am HaMalach​

The small room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the flickering candle beneath the idol of the fire god. Priest Lamar finished reading from his holy book, his lips moving in silent prayer. He placed the book down with reverence and struck a match, lighting the candle with practiced ease. The flame danced in the dimness, casting an orange glow over the room.

"Vishnu Arash. O Great God of Fire. You, whose wrath burns bright. May you illuminate my path, shine your light upon the truth, and burn away all evil and falsehoods," Lamar intoned, his voice filled with devotion. The red statue depicted a man in armor, holding a torch in one hand and a sword in the other. " A small altar beneath the statue held the candle Lamar had lit.

The priest prostrated himself before the idol, his forehead touching the cold stone floor. "Oh, great god of the flames, guide me with your light, protect me with your warmth," he prayed earnestly.

When he lifted his head, he jumped back in fear. There, seated on the chair beneath the shelf that held the idol, was a figure cloaked in shadow. The light from the candle revealed her slowly, and recognition struck him like a bolt of lightning.

The figure leaned back in the chair, her glowing eyes fixed on him with an intensity that made his heart race. "Priest Lamar," she said, her voice calm and unwavering.

Lamar's mouth went dry, and he scrambled to his feet, backing away. "W-who are you? What are you doing here? This is a sacred place!"

The woman tilted her head slightly, her expression one of slight humor. "A sacred place," she repeated. "Right. Of course it is. How could I forget?" She chuckled. "If so, then you, Priest Lamar, have defiled it with your deeds."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he stammered, trying to muster some semblance of authority. "I have served the gods faithfully. For half a century I've been in the faith, ever since I was a boy, and not once have I strayed!"

"Have you?" She asked, as her gaze bore into him, and he felt as though she could see right through him.

"I've heard your voice! We spoke before! You were asking about the descent of the gods, and-" he said, suddenly recalling their past encounter, but he was cut off.

She ignored his words. "You, who have neglected the orphan, the widow, the needy, the lame, the cripple, and the blind?"

Lamar's eyes widened. "I have done no such thing! What proof do you have?"

"I have the word of those you wronged," she replied coldly. "Do you mean to tell me they are all liars and you are not? As a matter of fact, I myself had to heal a cripple that you did not, but could have easily. The man risked life and gave limb for his nation, so that you could be safe, and you couldn't even heal him?"

Lamar's face paled, and he took another step back. "I... I...The rules prohibit us from performing healing without accepting payment. It would lead to widespread abuse of our generosity." He grumbled.

At that moment he felt an overwhelming pressure descend upon him, threatening to crush him where he was, but it vanished swiftly.

"How convenient for your faith. You really are the scum of the earth."

"I-


"Silence. Shall I remind you of your deeds?" she continued. "The orphan who came to you for food, whom you turned away because he had nothing to offer in return. The widow who begged for help, whom you scorned because her plea interrupted your dinner. The needy who sought shelter, whom you denied because you could not profit from their misery."

She rose from the chair, and he took another step back. "You have grown fat on the tithes of the faithful while the poor starve. Your belly wobbles with each step you take. You preach humility, yet you adorn yourself with gold and jewels. You speak of vows, yet you break them without a second thought."

Tears welled up in the priest's eyes. "Please... have mercy."

"Mercy?" Her eyes flashed with anger. "Did you show mercy to those who needed it most?"

Lamar gulped, the reality of his sins crashing down on him. Was the woman right? Had he been failing his flock?

Was the woman right? Was she?

"Your gods are dead, Lamar," she said, her voice devoid of any compassion. "They do not exist. If they ever did, they were likely just powerful mortals that your people deified. You used their name to justify your greed and hypocrisy."

The weight of her words pressed down on him, and he fell to his knees. "But I am alive. And your gods do not judge you. I do. And I judge you guilty."

Lamar's eyes widened in terror. "No, please! Not that!"

Ignoring his pleas, Remiel spoke. "[Power Word: Incinerate]."

The priest's screams filled the room as he spontaneously combusted, flames consuming him entirely. His cries of agony were short-lived, and soon, only the crackling of the fire remained.

---

Stepping out of the church, the sense of disappointment clung to me. Destroying the priest had not brought the satisfaction I sought. His screams, instead of providing solace, only echoed emptily within me. It was as if the act of judgment had hollowed me out further. I still had no answers.

As I walked through the city, the noises coming from the Adventurer's Guild caught my attention. The commotion at this hour was strange. A crowd had gathered, and at its center was a young man—frantic, covered in blood and mud, his eyes wide with terror. My curiosity piqued, I moved closer, blending into the crowd and listening intently.

The man's voice trembled as he spoke. "It was a massacre! We were out hunting bandits, not far from here—maybe an hour's journey. But then... she appeared."

His breath hitched, eyes darting around as if expecting the monster to reappear. "She looked like a demon. A vampire. Her mouth... it was unholy! It was circular, like a lamprey's, with a tongue that lashed out. Her hair was raggedy, uncouth, and her skin was ashen. And her eyes—those red, maddened eyes—full of rage and murder."

The crowd gasped, some with skepticism, others with growing panic. "How did you survive?" someone asked, voice tinged with disbelief.

"I don't know," he replied, voice cracking. "I ran. I just ran as fast as I could. It happened not far from here, maybe an hour ago. I thought I was going to die. I could feel her eyes on me the whole way."

"Why were you there in the first place?" another person asked.

"We were hunting bandits," he explained. "But we didn't expect to find a vampire. She was too strong, too fast. We didn't stand a chance."

A higher-level adventurer, sensing the growing panic, stepped forward and placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "Calm down. You need to go inside the guild and talk to someone higher up before creating a panic out here."

The man nodded but continued his frantic account. "You don't understand!" The man shouted as he shaked the adventurer." She cut through us like we were nothing, with just her fingers! First, she decapitated Jim with a single swipe. Then, she ripped Dave's heart out. I saw her bite into Lisa, draining her dry in seconds. The blood of my companions pooled into a crimson orb that floated above her head. It was... horrific. I barely escaped."

My mind raced with thoughts. A vampire in E-Rantel? This was a matter that required investigation. The description of the creature—the circular mouth, the ashen skin, the blood orb—sounded eerily familiar. Could it be... No, there's no way it could be her. She's not that stupid to leave a survivor, right?

"How strong was she?" someone else in the crowd asked.

"Unbelievably strong," the man replied. "She tore through us like we were paper. It wasn't just her strength, though. It was the sheer malice in her eyes. I've never seen anything like it."

The higher-level adventurer, sensing the growing panic, interjected again. "You need to speak to the guild master," he said, guiding the man toward the guild doors. "They need to know what's out there."

As the man was led inside, muttering about the short silver-haired demon, the crowd began to disperse, but I remained still, piecing together the implications of what I had heard. The details gnawed at me, each one reinforcing a growing suspicion, and the last two sealed the deal.

Short, silver hair, skin like ash, red eyes, maddened, bloodlusted, incredibly sadistic, brutal and powerful. That was her alright. And that worried me.

Shalltear's actions were not just reckless—they were dangerously stupid. If she was truly behind this, then who knows what the ramifications of this could be. Word of the massacre would spread, and the last thing we needed was undue attention.

I turned away from the guild, my mind rushing. There was no time to waste.

With each step, memories of Shalltear's previous attacks filled my mind. The brutal efficiency with which she dispatched her foes, the speed and ferocity of her movements, and the unquenchable bloodlust in her eyes. The scene described by the young man matched her modus operandi perfectly.

I quickened my pace, heading towards a secluded alleyway where I could think without interruption. The streets of E-Rantel seemed unusually quiet, the usual bustle subdued as if the city itself sensed the looming threat.

As I reached the alley, I couldn't help but feel a pang of unease. Shalltear was a force of nature, a monster beyond comprehension. Facing her and pulling her back from her madness would be no small task. But I had to try. For the sake of Nazarick, and for my own peace of mind.

Before anything else, I tried reaching out to Shalltear using [Message]. The spell should have connected easily, but there was no response. The silence was unnerving. Either she was too far gone in her bloodlust to respond, or something else was at play.

Momentarily, my civilian clothes were replaced by the armor my creator had given me. The familiar weight of the armor, the protective enchantments, and the sense of power it brought calmed my mind. I was ready.

I took a deep breath, unfurled my wings, and then, with a burst of speed that shattered the sound barrier, I flew off towards the direction the young man had indicated. The wind whipped past me, but my mind was focused on one thing: finding Shalltear and stopping her madness.

The landscape blurred beneath me as I soared through the night sky. The forest loomed ahead, a dark mass of trees and shadows. As I descended, I could smell the metallic tang of blood, the stench thick in the air. I landed silently outside a cave, where the ground was littered with the remains of Shalltear's victims. Limbs and torsos were strewn about, the grass stained red. It was a horrific sight, a testament to Shalltear's bloodlust.

My attention was drawn to a young girl, barely conscious, being drained by one of Shalltear's Vampire Brides. Her neck bore fresh bite marks, and her pale skin was almost translucent. The Bride's eyes were closed in ecstasy, her lips stained crimson.

"Enough!" I roared, my voice filled with wrath. The two Vampire Brides, startled, looked up from their feast. One of them, still licking her lips, seemed unperturbed, while the other took a step back, fear flashing in her eyes.

"Lady Remiel," the more cautious Bride began, bowing her head slightly. "We did not expect you."

"I am not here for pleasantries," I snapped. "Where is Shalltear?"

The braver of the two, the one still savoring the blood, sneered. "We serve Shalltear, not you. Our loyalty is to her alone."

I glared at them, my patience wearing thin. "And where is she now? You should have been keeping track of her! Do you even know what she's done, fools! Her actions have drawn notice to Nazarick! Already, word of her deeds spreads across the realm!" And more the pity we cannot stop it, only contain it.

The cautious Bride stammered, "Lady Shalltear... she moves swiftly, and her desires are... unpredictable."

"That is no excuse!" I chastised them. "You are supposed to be her subordinates. You should know her movements at all times."

The sneering Bride rolled her eyes. "Why do you pester us? Lady Shalltear does as she pleases, as she always has. We cannot always—"

Before she could finish her excuse, I lifted my hand, my sword blazing with holy fire. "Impudent fool!"

With a swift motion, I brought my sword down, cleaving her in two. The blade cut through her with ease, leaving nothing but ash and blackened bones in its wake. Her final expression was one of terror, her eyes wide in disbelief as the fire consumed her.

The surviving Bride fell to her knees, her face a mask of horror and desperation.

"Please, Lady Remiel, have mercy!" she begged, prostrating herself before me. "I saw Shalltear head into the forest. A man escaped, and she's probably chasing him!"

She was trembling uncontrollably, her long brown hair cascading down her back in disheveled waves. Her red eyes were wide with fear, and her skimpy white dress clung to her form, barely offering any protection. She was tall and slender, her pale skin contrasting starkly with her dark hair.

The other Vampire Bride, now a heap of ash and blackened bones, had been a similar sight before her demise. She was shorter, her long brown hair styled in loose curls that framed her face. Her red eyes had been filled with a twisted delight before her end. Her revealing dress was now nothing more than a pile of charred remains, her body reduced to dust. The sight of her charred remains did nothing to lessen the burning anger in my chest. The only thing left of recognition was a pale white skull with sharp fangs.

"It's a testament to my infinite mercy that I don't smite you here and now," I said coldly to the remaining Bride. "Begone from my sight."

The surviving Bride's fear was palpable. She prostrated herself even further, her voice barely a whisper. "Thank you, Lady Remiel. I will leave immediately."

The Bride nodded frantically as she scurried away, fear evident in her eyes. I turned my attention to the young girl, who was now barely breathing. Her life force was almost entirely drained. I knelt beside her, my heart heavy with sorrow.

I walked toward the young girl, who lay in a pool of her own blood and urine. Her eyes, once vibrant, were now glossy and lifeless, staring vacantly at the sky. I knelt beside her, my heart heavy with sorrow. She still drew breath.

Without further ado, I drew my sword and, with a swift, clean motion, drove it through the girl's chest. Her body went limp, the life leaving her in an instant. I closed my eyes briefly, trying to block out the sight of her suffering. It was a damn shame.

I think killing the Vampire Bride may have been something outside my authority, a mistake whose consequences I would have to eventually confront, but I just couldn't be bothered with it now. I'll deal with it when I deal with it.

I turned back to the forest, my resolve hardening. Shalltear's stupidity needed to be stopped. That incompetent child would be the ruin of us all. With a final glance at the moonlit clearing, I unfurled my wings once more and soared into the night sky, heading toward the forest where I hoped to pick up her trail.

As I approached, the sounds of battle grew louder - the roaring of fire, shouts of fury, and the guttural roars of Shalltear's bloodlust. I descended through the canopy, crashing into the heart of the conflict with a thunderous impact that shook the trees. The scene was chaotic, with a dead human strewn across the forest floor and ten other combatants locked in a fierce struggle against Shalltear, who looked completely mad. All around the battlefield, there were broken trees, holes in the earth, and burning grass.

My sudden and loud arrival caused a momentary pause in the battle. The enemies, a group of ten formidable enemies(plus one scared girl standing far from the battle) momentarily looked up in surprise. Their focus shifted, and for a crucial moment, Shalltear's attention wavered. When she saw me and I saw her standing there, she froze, her bloodlust lifted. It was in this brief distraction that an old woman wearing a white dress with golden accents and an embroidered golden dragon did something surprising.

The woman raised both her hands, and a bright and powerful oppressive energy flowed from her straight toward Shalltear. Shalltear saw this and materialized a lance of light, aiming to throw it at the woman, but she never got a chance to. The vampire's eyes glazed over, and her once wrathful gaze was replaced by a vacant, controlled stare into nothing. The old woman's power had seized Shalltear, bending her will to her own.

What just happened? Who were these people? Who is that woman?

I landed in the midst of the fray, my presence drawing immediate attention, as I was slowly walking toward them. There was a tension in the air, as if the smallest spark could ignite a barrel of gunpowder.

The leader of the enemy forces, a tall young man with an authoritative presence, stepped forward, his eyes assessing me with a mix of curiosity and wariness.

"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice commanding. "And what is your purpose here?"

"I came here following the vampire." I declared, my tone resolute.

The leader's gaze narrowed. "Are you an angel, or a messenger of the gods?"

I shook my head. "Angel literally means messenger, you fool. But that's semantics. If you're speaking of who I think you're speaking, then no. I do not know your gods, and I have only one master."

"Why do you call me a fool?" The man asked, and he seemed not insulted, but definitely wary.

"You are a fool if you have found yourself facing such a powerful foe." I responded.

"The Black Scripture has faced many powerful foes." A blue-haired girl wearing a comically oversized wizard hat commented from the side. She was tiny. And fragile. A stray wind could knock her down. But her words did prove useful, and I learned who exactly I was facing. The Black Scripture, that is what they called themselves. If there is a relation to that other scripture…

No matter.

The Black Scripture members exchanged uneasy glances. They were a diverse group—tall and short, broad and slender—each with their own distinct appearance. Yet they all shared a sense of grim determination. The leader's eyes flicked toward the old woman, now exerting control over Shalltear. Her tight, impractical garment seemed almost sacrilegious against her ancient, shriveled, straight up disgusting form.

"What did that woman do to Shalltear?" I asked, frustration edging my voice.

"Is that her name? Bitch is tough." A young cocky man wielding a rapier commented. The man, or boy rather, based on how small he was, was sitting against a rock in the ground, his wounds being healed by one of his comrades.

"Time Turbulence, you will be silent!" The man shouted at his younger comrade, which momentarily stunned the boy, before the boy just waved his hand in a dismissive manner. The leader's expression remained grim as he stared at his comrade before he turned to me again. "We are on official business for the Theocracy and cannot disclose much information."

"The Theocracy? What is your relationship to the Sunlight Scripture?" I inquired, trying to piece together the puzzle.

One of the Black Scripture members, a tall man with a severe expression, spoke hesitantly. "Both we and the Sunlight Scripture serve the Theocracy."

My eyes nearly widened in shock, but my face betrayed no emotion. I had helped to destroy the Sunlight Scripture. Those few who survived were tortured for information, but they revealed nothing, some sort of curse or geas causing them to self-combust in flames upon revealing too much information. Resurrection on their bodies was impossible, the souls unwilling(or perhaps Pestonya was simply too weak) or so I was told from the few words I exchanged with Demiurge before leaving Nazarick for E-Rantel all those days ago. Still, the revelation made me wary. "Then why are you fighting this vampire? What are you doing in this forest?"

"We were en route to subjugate the Catastrophe Dragon Lord, " the leader explained, his tone unwavering.

"Does that look like a dragon to you?" I retorted, glancing around at the carnage.

The leader's eyes flashed with irritation, but he chose not to respond. I moved closer to Shalltear, hoping to communicate with her. Her eyes were vacant, her movements sluggish. It was clear she was under the old woman's control. I waved a hand in front of her. No reaction.

"We were the ones who were attacked by this crazy undead!" A blonde man wielding an obscenely large lance that must be compensating for something, shouted. The disrespect angered me and I wanted to wring his neck, but I restrained myself and paced anxiously.

"This isn't right," I muttered to myself. "I need to retrieve her before she does something irreparable."

One of the Black Scripture members raised an eyebrow. "You know this creature?"

I glared at them. "Yes, one could say that. I have no love for her, but I do know her."

The leader's eyes widened in surprise, but Shalltear's lack of response only deepened my frustration. She was an undead, immune to mind control, yet here she was, ensnared by some form of dark enchantment.

"Why isn't she responding?" I demanded. "She is an undead. She should be immune to mind-affecting ailments. What have you done to her?"

The leader's expression remained stoic. "We cannot release her from control. Such a beast cannot be left unleashed. She has already caused too much damage. It must be put down."

I fell silent, my mind racing. The fallen Black Scripture member and the wounded were stark reminders of the battle's severity. The leader's words stung, and my frustration turned to resolve. I needed answers and action.

Turning my attention to the old woman with the gold-accented dress, I walked towards her, my gaze filled with both curiosity and anger. "How did you, a shriveled old raisin, manage to control an undead like Shalltear?" I demanded as I leaned down. She was a tiny woman, barely over five feet tall, and I was a whole foot and some change taller, covered in armor that was worth more than everything she and her bloodline had ever owned combined. I must have terrified her, but she did not show it. More credit to her. Perhaps her age gave her a certain courage in the face of certain death.

The old woman's gaze was calm, almost serene. "It is not my power alone," she said cryptically.

I scrutinized her dress, the shimmering fabric catching the moonlight. It seemed to emanate an aura of power. I reached out with a finger to caress the fabric, which caused her to flinch, but do nothing else. "This dress—does it have something to do with it?" I asked, my voice filled with realization.

The old woman's demeanor remained unchanged. "You are perceptive, but that is not for you to claim."

I felt a surge of anger. That dress is powerful enough to control a level 100 vampire. It must be a World Item, or something very close to one. What else could mind-control Shalltear? If I were to have such a thing, if I were able to subjugate anyone… the power such a thing could offer me. A mortal woman doomed to die had no business wielding such a thing.

"Give it to me." I demanded.

"How dare you!" The young blonde man wielding a large lance snarled, his face red with anger.

"You looking to die?" growled one of his companions, a beast-like man with a massive ax, his eyes flashing with hostility.

The old woman's gaze hardened. "I will not give it to you."

"It's clear you're strong and possess valuable gear. Why would you need such a dress when you already have powerful equipment?" A man in a skin-tight red bodysuit, whose appearance was incongruous with the rest, attempted to reason with me. His tone was diplomatic but tinged with a sense of underlying menace.

"Well, I want yours too. Now hand it over. I'm not asking." I said, my voice cold and unyielding.

There was silence that stretched for far too long.

"I refuse." Said the woman.

Blood would spill once more.

 

[BenMalek]

Pobeda ognyom i mechom​

As my words cut through the tension, the old woman's companions sprang into action. The battle erupted around me. Beasts summoned from rings roared and charged, chains lashed out with deadly precision, necromantic summons clawed at me, and powerful spells streaked through the air. The captain, wielding his spear with practiced ease, engaged me directly.

In the chaos, the old woman tried to assert control over Shalltear again. "Shalltear, kill—"

Before she could finish her command, I invoked [Time Stop]. The world around me froze. I moved swiftly. There was no time to waste. Every second costs mana.

In the blink of an eye, faster than the wingbeat of a dragonfly, I closed the distance to the old woman. She could not be allowed to command Shalltear at will. I had come here to save Shalltear and stop her from committing more stupidity, to retrieve her and return to Nazarick. Having Shalltear fight me is… not something I want.

I gathered up my fist and struck, right in the moment where my fist would connect with her body, I let time flow again. When time resumed, the old woman stood there with a gaping hole in her chest, her form essentially a hollowed-out shell. My fist had pierced through her back, leaving a brutal, gaping void where her heart once was.

Blood gurgled from her mouth, and she collapsed, lifeless.

The Black Scripture members were momentarily stunned, their eyes wide with shock as they processed the sudden and brutal turn of events. The captain's expression transformed from authority to sheer disbelief, the ferocity of my attack leaving them paralyzed.

But my brief moment of respite was shattered as Shalltear's vacant eyes flickered with renewed fury. Under the old woman's final command, she sprang into action, her movements swift and fierce. With a snarl, she lunged at me, her fangs bared.

Before I could react, Shalltear's teeth sank into my neck. Pain surged through me as her bite punctured my flesh, and the force of her attack nearly knocked me off balance. The sheer ferocity of her assault caught me off guard. I gasped in shock and pain, struggling to fend her off.

"Shalltear… you really have no control do you?" I asked her with hope against hope that she might answer me, but it was futile. I could barely speak and she was trying to drink me dry.

The Black Scripture members, regaining their composure, seized the opportunity. They attacked with renewed vigor— one man's necromantic summons clawed at me with skeletal hands, the blue-haired woman's bolts of fire blazed through the air, and when they struck me they actually did damage, which surprised me. A blonde-haired man's summoned beasts, a bear, a boar, and what appeared to be some sort of serpent, roared as they rushed toward my position. The battle intensified, their combined forces pressing in on me from all sides.

I can't deal with this all at once.

With a powerful kick, I sent Shalltear flying backward, the force of the blow momentarily breaking her hold on me. I stumbled back, gasping for breath, my mind racing. I thought I ended the mind control, but Shalltear is still active, executing the last order.

I really do have to put this bitch down. No other way around it.

Shalltear, despite the setback, quickly recovered. Her undead strength and resilience made her a formidable opponent. She stood ready for another attack, her bloodlust-driven strikes more feral and less coherent. Despite her regeneration, she was still vulnerable to my holy attacks, giving me a crucial edge here that I'd have to use if I wanted to make it out alive.

As I dealt with the chaos, I noticed one member of the Black Scripture moving with chains, trying to restrain me. The man's chains whirled through the air, aiming to ensnare my wings. His audacity angered me. I yanked on the chains, pulling him toward me. When he was within reach, I backhanded him with such force that his chest cavity shattered. His body was sent crashing into a nearby tree with a sickening thud. He lay motionless on the ground, his body twitching. If he wasn't already dead, he'd be dead soon. Either way, he was no longer a threat.

However, Shalltear, her eyes still vacant and driven by the last command, lunged at me. Her fangs bared, she aimed for my neck. I had to deal with her before continuing the assault on the others. I raised my hand and unleashed [Shockwave], a powerful burst of force that sent Shalltear crashing backward. The shockwave cleared some space around me, but she quickly began to recover, her determination unshaken.

The blue-haired sorceress, in a panic after seeing me casually crack her companions chest like a stone would crush a peanut, cast [Dragon Lightning], a fifth-tier spell. The jagged bolt of lightning arced toward me with terrifying speed. When it hit me, I felt some pain. Again, the fact that these insects could even harm me was insulting.

I glared at her, fury boiling over. "You dare use lightning against me!?" I roared.

Before I could retaliate, Shalltear was back on her feet, lunging at me again. I needed to deal with her first.

"[Consecrate]!" I said, summoned a ring of holy light around me, its radiance both healing my wounds and burning Shalltear as she drew closer. She recoiled in pain, but not for long. With Shalltear momentarily forced back, I focused on the sorceress. A stray thought crossed my mind, that being a comparison between this woman and Fluder, and just how much she was lacking compared to him. And even Fluder wasn't a challenge to me, so how much lesser is this woman even still?

Summoning a powerful, terrifying golden lightning bolt, I hurled it toward the sorceress. The bolt crackled and roared, its power immense. The sorceress herself conjured a magic barrier in a desperate bid to shield herself. However, her efforts were in vain. The golden lightning bolt smashed through the barriers scorched her to ash. Thesorceress was incinerated in an instant, her screams drowned out by the crackling power.

Just as I was preparing to deal with the next threat, Time Turbulence, seeing the chaos, attempted to manipulate time against me. I could see him even as he slowed down, his movements distorted but still discernible. It was as though he was moving through molasses. I don't think he truly expected me to see him. When my eyes locked with his, his mouth opened in fear.

With a flick of my wrist, I cast [Quagmire], a spell that turned the earth beneath him into a muddy quagmire, aptly named. He struggled, slipping and sliding, his time-manipulated speed unable to counteract the treacherous ground.

But as I moved in to finish him, Shalltear, now more persistent than ever, charged at me. I had to deal with her once more. I tried to stab at her, but she evaded my attack and raked me across my face with her claws. The pain hurt quite badly, and I think she even damaged my eye. In response, I uppercut her with my fist granting me a moment to breathe. Then, I raised my blade against her and cast [Thunderous Smite]. The blade rang in the air, and when it connected with Shalltear's shoulder, the noise was so loud it even caused a tiny woman wearing ridiculous clothing off in the distance to collapse to the ground and scream in agony. The noise of the blade connecting with its target was deafening, and the shockwave was felt even among the other combatants. The blow fulfilled its purpose, as it pushed Shalltear back more than two dozen feet away, giving me breathing room.

Or so I thought. The boar the blonde man had summoned tried to gore me from behind, but I saw it coming and used [Radiant Blast], shooting out a bolt of searing light that connected perfectly.

A roasted boar was all that remained. It could serve as a decent meal for a family.

Now, with a moment free, I focused on Time Turbulence. With the ground beneath him now a quagmire, I teleported above him, and brought my blade down, connecting with the back of his skull. The blade cut through his defenses, cleaving through flesh and bone, ending his struggle. He fell to the ground, his body lifeless, his head useless. Four down, six to go. Five Scripture members and Shalltear.

I tried to take a moment to breathe, but it proved to be a mistake. A spear pierced the back of my knee, forcing me to the ground. The Captain had taken advantage of my distraction, stabbing me with precision. Pain radiated from the wound, making it difficult to stand.

The man with the lance lunged at my chest, his weapon aimed to impale. I barely managed to deflect it, but the force of the blow knocked me off balance. The barbarian, a hulking figure with a giant axe, swung at me with ferocious strength. I dodged the initial strike, but his relentless assault left me little room to counter.

"You're finished, heretic!" the Captain growled, his eyes burning with zeal.

"You're not getting away this time," the lancer added, his voice cold and determined.

The blonde-haired beast tamer, standing a distance away, drew his bow and shot arrows at me with unerring accuracy. Each arrow struck with force, chipping away at my defenses. Though it did little to damage me, it added up. And the fact that the man kept his bear in reserve to guard him in case I decided to attack him was smart.

His snake, a vile creature, nipped at my heel, its venom burning where it touched. The fact that a snake would even dare to touch me angered me to the point that I let the barbarian strike me just so I could crush the damn things skull. A stomp ended its life.

"We'll tear you apart!" the barbarian roared, swinging his axe with wild fury.

The necromantic summons, a dozen skeletons, empowered by their master, attacked with renewed ferocity. Their blades, now shining with black, unholy light, slashed at me from all sides. I deflected one blow but received another, the wounds accumulating and weakening my stance.

"Give up already," the necromancer sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.

Just as I thought I could endure no more, Shalltear lunged at me again, her bloodlust unwavering. In desperation, I invoked [Divine Intervention].


A golden bubble of light enveloped me, rendering me invulnerable to all effects physical or magical for a full twelve seconds. Twelve seconds. Whatever I did, it had to be now. The attackers were stunned, their strikes deflected harmlessly by the divine barrier.

"What is this sorcery?" the Captain exclaimed, frustration evident in his voice as he tried to stab at me, his spear finding no purchase.

The battlefield was momentarily silent, the enemies staring in disbelief at their inability to breach my defenses. During those twelve seconds while Shalltear was striking at me like a rabid dog, a new barrier popped up around the entire battlefield, alarming both me and my enemies. None of us had cast it.

"What's happening? Who's doing this?" the lancer shouted, his eyes darting around in confusion.

"Something's not right," the necromancer muttered, a hint of fear creeping into his voice.

I tried to use [Message] to contact Lord Ainz for backup but was stupefied when the message couldn't connect. Realization dawned—it was the barrier's fault.

Ignoring the mystery for now, I focused on healing. I cast a powerful spell, divine light pouring over me. My wounds closed, my strength returned. My previously useless wing flexed back into motion, and my vision cleared as my eye regenerated. The pain in my side vanished as the gaping wound sealed itself.

The mana cost for such a thing was no small thing.

With renewed vigor, I stood tall, unburdened by the former pain in my leg. "I'm done playing with you. Now you'll all die like dogs." With determination burning in my eyes, I raised my hands in offering and chanted with unwavering resolve, "Oh Holy Host, hear my plea and deliver me from my enemy! With this ancient rite, I summon the Four-Limbed Colossus, Divine Behemoth of Celestial Wrath! "

The skies above darkened as the air crackled with raw, untamed power. A swirling vortex of energy formed in the heavens, heralding the arrival of the Divine Behemoth. The ground trembled as an ethereal light pierced through the clouds, descending with an awe-inspiring force.

Emerging from the celestial rift, the Divine Behemoth appeared in all its majesty. Its colossal form, eerily beautiful, was covered in shimmering, iridescent scales that reflected the light in a kaleidoscope of colors. Each of its four muscular limbs ended in razor-sharp claws that could tear through the toughest defenses. Its head was adorned with multiple glowing eyes that seemed to pierce the very soul, crowned with twisted, ethereal horns that crackled with divine energy. The behemoth's long, whip-like tail lashed through the air, a testament to its formidable strength and balance.

As the Divine Behemoth fully materialized, its presence commanded the battlefield. The sheer weight of its power was palpable, sending waves of fear and awe through friend and foe alike.

The Divine Behemoth's arrival on the ground shook the earth. The members of the Black Scripture by that point in time as well as Shalltear had all gained some distance from me, cautious of the new arrival to the field. And it was easy to understand why as the Behemoth stood behind me, a manifestation of raw power and adaptability. Its presence was overwhelming, and the sheer force of its being radiated across the battlefield.

The Black Scripture members hesitated, their resolve shaken by the sight of the titanic creature, which must have been almost a dozen feet tall, though I didn't know its exact height. What I did know is that its mana consumption was great, and its capacity for death and destruction was even greater.

The balance of power had shifted dramatically, and I could see the fear in their eyes.

"What is that thing?" the Captain whispered, his confidence faltering.

"By the gods…," the lancer stammered, his weapon trembling in his grip. The young man stepped back in fear.

"Kill her! Kill her now!" the necromancer shouted, panic overtaking him.


"Destroy them." I commanded the beast. With a deafening roar that shook the heavens, the Divine Behemoth prepared to unleash its might upon those who dared to stand against me.

The blonde lancer, desperation etched into his features, gathered his resolve and unleashed a blast of holy magic toward me. I let it hit and it did literally nothing. Does this fool actually think to use divine magic against me? It's like trying to drown a fish. The utter fool.

"You shouldn't play with divine fire, boy!" I warned, my voice loud and wrathful. Lifting my hand up and pulling it down, I cast [Flame Strike]. From the heavens, a towering pillar of fire descended with blinding intensity, engulfing the lancer in an inferno. His screams were brief, swallowed by the roaring flames, his form reduced to ash in moments.

Next, the barbarian, a mountain of muscle and fury, cast some [Martial Arts] on himself, and he glowed with light as did his weapon. Then he charged at me with his massive axe raised high. His intent was clear: to cleave me in two. With a swift incantation, I cast [Wither]. Instantly, his movements became sluggish, his once formidable strength sapped away. "What… what is happening?" he muttered, bewildered and helpless. I sidestepped his feeble swing and, with a wrathful roar, severed his hands from his wrists. The barbarian fell to his knees, staring at his stumps in shock. In one fluid motion, with a backhand, I decapitated him, granting him a swift end, better than the mad dog deserved. I took the time to spit on his corpse for good measure.

Meanwhile, the necromancer, his face contorted in terror, desperately chanted incantations to summon dark forces against the Divine Behemoth. His skeletons pathetically tried stabbing at the Behemoth, but their weapons merely bounced off his scales. All the necromancer's efforts were in vain. The behemoth's massive claws closed around him, lifting him into the air. With bone-crushing force, the behemoth smashed the necromancer into the ground, over and over, each impact sending shockwaves through the earth. The necromancer's screams were cut short, his body left broken and lifeless, a testament to the futility of his resistance.

Shalltear, undeterred, launched herself at the Divine Behemoth, her vampiric strength and agility allowing her to momentarily occupy its attention. She clawed and bit at its shimmering, iridescent scales, trying to find a weak spot. The behemoth roared in anger, its multiple glowing eyes fixated on her as it swiped with its razor-sharp claws, creating shockwaves that sent debris flying in all directions.

Despite Shalltear's relentless assault, the Divine Behemoth remained an unstoppable force, its sheer power and adaptability overwhelming the battlefield. When it came to pure stats, it was comparable to Shalltear, trading a bit of speed for greater defense, and it possessed constant passive health regeneration as opposed to Shalltear who healed by doing damage. The Behemoth would be able to hold Shalltear for a time, long enough for me to deal with the rest of these insects.

The Black Scripture members, seeing their comrades fall one by one, hesitated, their resolve crumbling in the face of such overwhelming strength. The balance of power had irrevocably shifted, and I could see the fear in their eyes as they realized the futility of their efforts.

The Captain, seeing his comrades fall, mustered his courage and invoked one of his [Martial Arts] and charged the Behemoth before stabbing it with the fury of a thousand blows, each of them trying to chip away at my summon's scales. He and Shalltear attacked in unison, their combined efforts barely scratching the colossal beast. The Captain's martial arts techniques, powerful in their own right, were useless against the behemoth's armored hide. He executed precise strikes and complex maneuvers, but they glanced off the creature's shimmering, iridescent scales without leaving a mark. Shalltear, with her vampiric strength and speed, fared no better as she slashed and bit at the beast, trying to find a weak spot.

In response, the Divine Behemoth roared and swung its massive tail in a wide arc. Shalltear leaped backward, her agility allowing her to narrowly avoid the blow. The Captain, thinking quickly, jumped upward to evade the tail's devastating sweep. As he ascended, his eyes met mine for a brief, chilling moment. I think that by the look on his face that at this moment he realized he had just died.

I took to the air, my wings carrying me with effortless grace. In a flash, I intercepted him mid-air, not ending my flight, slicing off his legs below the knee with a swift, merciless strike. His scream of agony echoed through the battlefield as he plummeted back to the ground. The Divine Behemoth followed up with a thunderous punch to the Captain's chest, the force of the blow silencing him forever as his body crumpled under the impact.

Amidst the chaos, the 12th seat of the Black Scripture, a man in a skin-tight bodysuit, attempted to sneak up on me once I had landed on the ground again. His stealthy movements were almost imperceptible, but I sensed his presence. As he lunged to backstab me, I transformed into mist, his blade passing harmlessly through the vapor. Reappearing behind him, I delivered a powerful kick to his back, sending him hurtling toward the Divine Behemoth. The behemoth's jaws closed around him with a sickening crunch, consuming him like a wolf would snack on a baby lamb. The Behemoth had no time to enjoy his meal as he was attacked by Shalltear right afterwards.

I let him deal with her for now and turned toward one of my enemies who was still alive.

The beastmaster trembled in fear, but he knew he couldn't remain passive. He commanded his bear to charge at me while he nocked another arrow. The massive bear roared as it barreled toward me, its claws ready to tear me apart. The beastmaster loosed his arrow, aiming for my heart. I deftly sidestepped the arrow, as it was not even a challenge.

In recompense, I unleashed a wave of fire from my sword towards the beastmaster. The man dropped to a prone position to evade the flames, but his clumsy bear, too fat and big, was not so lucky. The beast roared in agony as the fire engulfed it, its fat boiling it like oil, its fur burning away as it collapsed, lifeless.

The beastmaster lifted his head, eyes wide with horror and anger. Before he could react, I appeared behind him. Grabbing his head, I smashed it into the dirt with unrelenting force, again and again and again. Each impact left a bloody impression. His struggles weakened with each blow until I finally wrung his neck, ending his life with a sickening snap.

With the beastmaster and his bear defeated, the battlefield was now littered with the bodies of the fallen, the remnants of the Black Scripture's once-formidable force. Shalltear, still driven by bloodlust, continued her relentless assault on the Divine Behemoth. Despite her efforts, the behemoth's sheer size and power made it an indomitable foe.

I think that's almost everyone. I got them all. Just have to deal with Shalltear.

Oh wait, there's still the girl who fainted.

Mentally, I commanded the Behemoth to disengage from Shalltear and find the girl. He'd do a better job at it, and in the meantime, I rushed toward Shalltear, sword in hand.

Shalltear's eyes locked onto me, her bloodlust undiminished. She let out a primal scream and charged, her claws gleaming with deadly intent. I braced myself, my sword glowing with the divine energy of [Searing Smite]. As we clashed, the fire from my blade seared her flesh, causing her to hiss in pain.

Statistically, Shalltear was more powerful than me, her sheer strength and resilience far surpassing mine. However, her madness made her predictable and wild, allowing me to outskill and outsmart her. Each of her attacks was driven by rage, lacking the precision and strategy that would make her a truly unbeatable foe. In truth, I was quite lucky that this was not really Shalltear at her best. Had she been wearing her armor and wielding her lance, I'd likely lose the head-to-head fight, unless I had detailed foreknowledge of her skills and spells. She was more of a melee fighter than me, but I was good enough for what needed to be done.

I parried her claw swipes, each one aiming to rip me apart. The flames from my sword burned her with every strike, but her undead nature allowed her to withstand the pain. "I'm glad you can't use your skills or spells," I muttered through gritted teeth. "If you could, I'd probably be dead by now."

And that's the truth. Shalltear had a whole host of abilities, and though I'm confident that if I were to face her one on one with both of us at our best that I had a decent chance of winning, the battle had taken its toll on me, as it had on her.

The battle raged on, our movements a deadly dance of steel and claws. I struck at her with my sword, aiming for vital points, while she retaliated with feral swipes, trying to break through my defenses. Despite her superior stats, her madness left openings that I could exploit. But with each passing moment, my fatigue grew more pronounced.

Just as I began to feel the strain of the prolonged fight, the Divine Behemoth returned, carrying the girl's corpse in its massive hand. The sight of the lifeless body filled me with a grim determination. The Behemoth disposed of the corpse, tossing it aside like a ragdoll, and then turned its attention to Shalltear.

With the Behemoth joining the fray, the tide shifted in my favor. Shalltear tried to fight both of us, but her rage was no match for our combined might. The Behemoth's powerful blows and my precise strikes began to take their toll on her.

Shalltear fought valiantly, her strength and resilience making her a formidable opponent even in her madness. But the combined assault from the Behemoth and me was too much.

If Shalltear tried to dodge my blade when I tried to pierce her chest, the Behemoth was there, ready to beat her down. If Shalltear attacked me, all I had to do was play defensively while the Behemoth attacked her from the rear. If she attacked the Behemoth, the defensively superior opponent, then she exposed herself to my sword. If she went on the defense trying to dodge us and not engage, all she did was suffer blows without giving back any in return. In a nutshell, she was check-mated.


She staggered, her body riddled with wounds and burns. With one final, desperate lunge, she aimed to take me down, but the Behemoth intercepted her, slamming her into the ground with a bone-shattering force.

I stood over Shalltear, my sword poised to deliver the final blow. She lay there, crippled and defeated, her eyes still burning with a fierce, unyielding rage. I hesitated, knowing that ending her would be merciful, but also recognizing the significance of her existence.

The battle was over, but the aftermath was yet to be dealt with. For now, Shalltear was incapacitated, and the Black Scripture was no more. I took a deep breath, my body aching from the exertion, and prepared for what came next.

Killing the old woman that was in control of Shalltear did not end her mind control. What would it take to end her madness and bring her back to Nazarick?

Was the dress necessary? I suppose it was worth a shot.


Mentally I commanded the Behemoth to keep Shalltear in place. She tried desperately to stand upright and fight back, but the Behemoth kept her pinned down. The sight of her puny body held back by his giant fist was amusing, I had to admit.

Wasting no time, I flew toward the corpse of the old lady with the hole in her chest.

She looked like a donut.

I unleashed a wave of fire at the corpse that burned her remains to ashes, leaving behind a blackened and somewhat damaged but relatively whole dress. I picked it up and saw with awe how it stitched itself together back slowly, thread by thread, piece by piece. Based on the speed of it, any damages suffered by the item would be made whole within a day.

A World Item… and now it was mine.

I deposited the item in my inventory before flying back to Shalltear.


She struggled and tried to claw at me with one of her legs, using the claws on them as a feeble weapon. It didn't work, and all I had to do was step away.



The adrenaline of battle began to wane, leaving me acutely aware of how much mana I had expended. I could feel the Behemoth's hunger for mana, an insatiable need that threatened to drain me dry if left unchecked. With a weary sigh, I raised my hand and dispelled the Divine Behemoth, its massive form dissolving into shimmering motes of light.

I turned my attention to Shalltear, lying in a broken heap on the ground. Her limbs were twisted and frazzled, her once-magnificent form reduced to a pitiable shadow of its glory. She lay in a crevice in the dirt, her eyes still burning with madness and defiance. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment.

"Shalltear," I began, my voice cold and unyielding, "look what has become of you. A proud warrior, the strongest Floor Guardian, now little more than a bloody stain. It's pathetic."

She snarled weakly, trying to push herself up, but her shattered body betrayed her.

"I expected more from you," I continued, my tone laced with disdain. "The first time you get sent on a mission to the outside world, and look at what you've done! You could have exposed Nazarick's secrets to outsiders, you utter fool!"

I stepped closer, looking down at her with a mixture of pity and contempt. "I suppose this is what happens when pride consumes you. You make stupid mistakes."

Shalltear's eyes, though maddened and vacant, tried to glare up at me with a flicker of defiance. The pride that had once marked her was now replaced with a broken spirit, a testament to the battle we had fought.

I continued, my voice betraying the weight of my regret. "I have no desire to strike you down. It was either your life or mine, and I have no desire to taste death again. But your reckless actions have put us all at risk. I deeply regret having to raise a hand against you, one of our own. Maybe our Lord will have mercy on you. Or maybe not. I suppose I'll ask him."


Just as I was contemplating how to deal with Shalltear and maintain possession of the World Item, a figure emerged from the chaos, clad in dazzling platinum armor, four floating weapons following him. They were a spear, a war ax, a katana, and a giant two-edged blade.

Who is this person? Is he responsible for the barrier? Is he an enemy?

More importantly, what does he want?

 

[BenMalek]

Unerwünschter Gast​

I had just dispelled Behemoth. I can't call him again.

He approached with a calm, measured stride, his armored gaze, with those two glowing silver eyes, fixed on me with an approving look. "You're clearly strong."

I turned to face him, the sudden appearance of the armored man adding another layer of complexity to the situation. His presence was imposing, and for a brief moment, I hesitated, uncertainty clouding my thoughts. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"I created the barrier," he stated plainly. "I wanted to observe the battle without interruptions."

"You wanted to observe?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "Why?"

He took another step closer, his eyes studying me intently. "I'm not a friend of the Black Scripture nor the Theocracy. In fact, I'm somewhat grateful to see them dealt with. But such power often draws attention. Who are you really? What organization do you belong to?"

"I can't divulge that information," I replied firmly, keeping my grip on my weapon tight. "It's none of your concern."

He nodded, acknowledging my persistence. "My name is Riku Aganeia. And you? Are you a [Player]?"

I hesitated. "No."

"Then you must be an NPC," he concluded, his tone calm and analytical.

"How do you even know these terms?" I demanded, taken aback by his knowledge.

Riku however remained unreadable. One could not tell a man's emotions when the man was covered head to toe in armor. "I know quite a bit about Yggdrasil, though probably not as much as those who come from there."

I studied him, trying to gauge his intentions. "What exactly do you want, Riku?"

He sighed softly, almost as if reminiscing. "My duty is to protect this world. I promised my mother I would do so. Beings of immense power, like that vampire, pose a significant threat."

His words struck a chord within me. "If you protect the world from dangerous entities, then you yourself must be strong, correct?" I asked.

"One could say that." He replied vaguely.

"Who protects the world from the man who protects the world? What right do you have to judge who needs to be put down or not?" I asked him, hoping he'd trip up and show his true colors, whatever those may be.

"Apart from the fact that I'm quite old and strong, I don't really have much of a right to judge. I guess I'm a bit of a hypocrite. But still, it is my purpose." He responded.

Before I could respond, Shalltear's body began to convulse violently. Blood from the fallen members of the Black Scripture flowed toward her, drawn by her vampiric will. Her bones snapped back into place with sickening cracks, her muscles knitted together, and her wounds sealed. The sheer speed and intensity of her regeneration sent a wave of dread through me. This was a gamechanging moment if ever there was one.

Riku tensed, his weapons floating around him in a protective formation. "It seems she's not done yet."

I readied my sword, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. "No, she's not."

Riku glanced at me, a hint of respect in his eyes. "Do you need assistance to bring her down?"

This bastard. Why didn't you offer your help when I was fighting the Scripture and her at the same time?

My eyes narrowed as I took his words in. "Right, of course." I said, more to myself than to him. Of course he'd hedge his bets. "But what do you gain from helping me now?"

"I gain the assurance that a dangerous entity is neutralized," he replied simply. "And perhaps, I learn more about those who have arrived from Yggdrasil."

I cursed internally, the complexity of the situation weighing heavily on me. "Break the barrier," I demanded, a note of desperation creeping into my voice. "I can call for aid from my allies."

I needed Lord Ainz to come and deal with this. I'm out of my depth. I shouldn't have even gone here. I should have called for help right after killing the Vampire Bride. In hindsight, killing the Bride was a big mistake, but my wrath claimed me at that moment. I knew I'd face some punishment for that, as while the brides are but mere summons and Shalltear kills them regularly, they are still under her jurisdiction and I can't harm them without her or Lord Ainz's approval. Still, if I thought that if I just brought back Shalltear alive(relatively, she's undead) and unharmed before more of her stupidity brought unnoticed attention, if I brought her back to Nazarick, then I'd be fine, as my previous success in Baharuth would grant me some clemency.

No, my mistake was even earlier than that, back in E-Rantel. Why didn't I call for aid then? I could have notified Lord Ainz easily. I suppose it doesn't matter now.

Riku shook his head. "No. You can either accept my help now or face her alone. The barrier stays."

I hesitated, doubt gnawing at me. "Why would you offer to help? What's in it for you?"

His eyes met mine, unwavering. "I promised my mother I would protect this world. A vampire of her strength is a threat to it."

Internally, I cursed the situation and myself for getting us into this mess. "If you want her to be dealt with, then take down the barrier." I repeated myself.

"I can't do that." Insufferable, absolutely insufferable.

"Ugh, fine." I said, steel entering my voice. "We take her down together."

Shalltear, now fully healed and radiating with murderous intent, locked eyes with me. Her madness and rage were palpable, and I knew this battle would be brutal.

"Ready yourself," Riku said, his weapons poised for action.

I nodded, focusing all my energy and remaining mana on the fight ahead. "Let's end this."

As Shalltear lunged toward us, her claws outstretched, I activated [Searing Smite], engulfing my sword in flames. The battle was on, and with Riku's aid, we had a chance to bring her down. The clash of steel, the roar of flames, and the fury of a vampire would soon determine our fate.

With Shalltear fully regenerated, her wounds mended and her strength restored, she charged at us with renewed ferocity. Riku and I attacked in unison, our combined efforts momentarily overwhelming her. My [Searing Smite] clashed with her claws, the flames licking at her skin. Riku's floating weapons struck with precision, exploiting every opening in Shalltear's defense.

For a brief moment, it seemed we had the upper hand. Shalltear staggered under the relentless assault, her movements growing more frantic as she struggled to keep up with our coordinated strikes.

Then, Riku suddenly froze, his eyes widening as he sensed something. "This is unexpected," he muttered.

"What is it?" I demanded, still focused on Shalltear.

"Someone has passed through the barrier," Riku replied, his voice tinged with surprise. "I am sorry, but I must leave."

Before I could respond, Riku turned to leave. "Wait! Where are you going?" I shouted, my attention split between him and Shalltear.

"Good luck," Riku said simply before activating [World Teleportation] and vanishing in an instant. The barrier fell as he disappeared, leaving me alone with Shalltear.

This whoreson left me! He just left! I didn't get to put Shalltear down, nor did I manage to use the World Item to restore her. Out of two possible good moves I had, somehow I was saddled with a third which was worse than both combined! When I find that piece of filth, he'll pay back for this deception a hundred-fold!

Shalltear wasted no time taking advantage of the distraction. She leaped onto my back, her claws digging into my wings with excruciating force. Pain shot through me, nearly causing me to lose my grip on my sword. I screamed in agony, desperately trying to throw her off.

With Shalltear's claws embedded in my wings, I struggled to maintain my balance. Her strength and madness gave her an advantage, and I was quickly forced onto the defensive.

She snarled, her red eyes gleaming with malice. "I'll tear you apart!"

Those were the first words she's said to me in her entire state. How lovely.

I fought back with everything I had, swinging my sword in a desperate attempt to dislodge her. But Shalltear's grip was unyielding, her claws digging deeper with each passing second. The pain was almost unbearable, but I couldn't afford to give in.

I was barely keeping my composure when I finally managed to grab onto Shalltear with my free hand before I slammed her to the ground. My foot pressed firmly against her chest, pinning her down. She screamed out, her circular maw wide and hungry, her tongue moving like a serpent.

She tried to strike me with her claw again, but it was a mistake from her. It was an easy thing to use [Vengeance] after she had so thoroughly devastated my wings.

With my left hand I grabbed her grasping claws, and with the right I stabbed her through the chest, and she screamed in pain. But the tiny yet vicious harlot was still alive. As alive as an undead could be, at any rate. Her tongue moving around like a serpent trying to lick the blood off my face was proof enough.

She really is a disgusting creature now that I look at her. From a certain point of view it's pitiable I suppose, after all it is not her fault that she was made inferior to me. Oh well, her suffering would end soon.

At least a few more blows that were as impactful as the one I just gave her were necessary for victory. I'd deliver one promptly, and this time I'd aim for the head. My sword was raised high above my head, poised to deliver a mighty blow, though I doubted that it would kill her. She was too hale for that. The flaming edge of my blade glinted ominously in the moonlight, a testament to my resolve.

But before I could strike, a new presence filled the air, and I felt an unmistakable shift in the battlefield. Lord Ainz had arrived, his figure imposing and his aura commanding. I heard the majestic and powerful sound of his voice cutting through the chaos.

"Enough."

The command was both authoritative and soothing, and I couldn't help but release a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. I immediately dropped my sword and dropped to my knees, prostrating myself before him. The act caused me great physical pain, especially since my wings were still basically useless, skin ruptured and joints broken. My heart pounded in my chest, a reminder of the fact that I was alive, as a mixture of relief and fatigue washing over me. I was willing to take any punishment or reprimand Ainz might see fit to deliver. Though there is a small part of me that regrets not being able to slay Shalltear.

I could not remain where I was for long. The instant I dropped to the ground in submission before Lord Ainz, Shalltear seized the opportunity to strike again. With a primal snarl, she lunged at me, her fangs sinking into my neck. The pain was immediate and searing, and I screamed as her bite tore through my flesh.

Desperate to fend her off, I focused what little mana I had left and cast [Holy Nova]. A brilliant burst of light erupted from me, bathing the area in a blinding radiance. The holy light burned Shalltear, pushing her back and momentarily stunning her. The intensity of the spell also provided a fleeting relief, closing some of my wounds and easing the bleeding from my neck. Despite this, my golden wings were a mess—one was twisted nearly upside down, and blood stained the once radiant feathers.

As I struggled to stay upright, Lord Ainz's wrathful gaze fell upon Shalltear, his eyes narrowed in cold fury. "Why is she still attacking you?" His voice was laced with a mix of anger and curiosity.

"She's under mind control," I explained through gritted teeth, my voice strained but clear. "She doesn't have control over her actions. I had no choice but to defend myself."

Without a word, Lord Ainz moved with a swift, deliberate grace. He teleported directly to me, his presence commanding and soothing. With a gesture, he grabbed me and then teleported us about thirty feet away from Shalltear, placing us at a safer distance.

"Stay here," Ainz instructed, his voice calm but firm. "I will try to reach through to her."

I couldn't help but plead, my voice tinged with desperation. "My lord, please don't. She's dangerous, and—"

"It is a ruler's duty to try and reach his subjects," Ainz interrupted gently but firmly.

Before I could say another word, he vanished, reappearing directly in front of Shalltear. I watched with bated breath as he attempted to connect with her.

Lord Ainz's words were filled with a mix of concern and authority as he faced Shalltear. "Shalltear," he began, his voice soft but commanding, "can you hear me? Do you understand what's happening?"

Shalltear, her form still twisted by madness, looked at Ainz with vacant, unfocused eyes. Her breaths were ragged, and she struggled to maintain coherence. "Lord Ainz?" Her voice was shaky, betraying the inner conflict raging within her.

"Yes," Ainz affirmed gently. "It's me. You're under some form of control, but I need to understand. Can you tell me what's going on? Why are you fighting each other?"

Shalltear's eyes fluttered, and she looked around as if trying to piece together fragmented memories. Her voice was hesitant, filled with confusion. I watched as her form slowly but surely returned to her previous doll-like visage. The beast had retreated, for now. "I… I remember… something… but it's all a blur. I was fighting some humans… and then I was… I was ordered to… to fight… but I don't know why. Everything's so hazy…"

Ainz's gaze softened, and he stepped closer, trying to bridge the gap between them with his words. "Think, Shalltear. Try to remember who gave you these orders and why. You are a loyal guardian of Nazarick. You should not be acting against our own. You serve me, and only me, remember that."

Shalltear's confusion deepened. She shook her head, her movements erratic. "It's hard to think… My mind… It's cloudy. I know I should follow orders, but… why was I fighting Remiel? I don't understand… There was this old woman… and she…"

The struggle was evident on her face as she fought against the remnants of her madness. Ainz's voice remained calm, guiding her gently. "Shalltear, you must focus. Remember who you are and what you stand for. You are a part of Nazarick's family. This chaos is not your doing. Please, try to recall the source of this control."

A moment of clarity seemed to flash across Shalltear's face. She looked at Ainz with a pained expression, struggling to articulate her thoughts. "I… I don't know… It's all mixed up. The only thing I can think of is that I was ordered to kill, and… that's what I was doing. It doesn't matter why now. I have to follow orders…"

Ainz's eyes narrowed, his concern deepening as he heard Shalltear's response. "This is not the Shalltear we know. I understand that you're compelled to act, but you must remember who you are. Fighting Remiel and causing chaos is not what you were meant to do. You two are both my children, and I love you both."

"You love me?" She said, and for a moment it seemed like he had gotten through to her.

But that moment was just that, a moment, fleeting and gone forever.

Shalltear's gaze flickered between confusion and resignation. Despite her efforts to fight the control, her final response came with a hardened resolve. "It doesn't matter. Orders are orders. I was commanded to kill, and that's what I will do."

With that, Shalltear summoned her weapon, readying herself to attack once more. The struggle within her was evident, but the command that still held sway over her actions was clear. Ainz's expression hardened as he realized the depth of the situation and the urgency of the matter.

Without hesitation, Shalltear attacked Lord Ainz with her lance. Ainz responded swiftly, summoning a wall of bone that rose between him and Shalltear, blocking her deadly assault.

As the barrier broke because of Shalltear's attack, Ainz reappeared next to me. His expression was a mix of concern and relief. "So you did not betray us? I am glad to hear it, but we have quite a lot to discuss."

Before I could respond, Ainz grabbed me again and teleported us both a short distance away, still within the forest. When the teleportation ended, I found myself in the presence of Albedo, Cocytus, Aura, and Mare, all armed and ready for combat.

Confusion clouded my thoughts as I took in the scene. "What's going on?"

"We have no time to waste." Ainz said urgently. He summoned a glowing oval-shaped [Gate], a teleportation spell, and commanded everyone to get out of there. He walked through it first.

Albedo, her eyes narrowing slightly, spoke with a tone of authority, "You have a lot to answer for, Lady Remiel. You will answer Lord Ainz's questions." She said as she followed Lord Ainz.

Cocytus, ever the stoic warrior, gave a respectful nod and said, "It is good to see you did not betray us. We must discuss this matter thoroughly." He commented as he walked in after her.

Aura, her demeanor a mix of cheerful teasing and seriousness, added with a grin, "Looks like you've got some explaining to do, Remiel! But don't worry, we'll make sure to get the full story."

Mare, looking nervous and stuttering slightly, said, "Y-yeah, you'll need to tell us everything. W-we need to understand what happened." The twins said, before they all followed Lord Ainz into the Gate.

I spared a final glance at the forest, and followed.