Yours Truly Thy Overlord (Overlord X DC Universe Fanfic)

[Alfir]

"I considered myself among the minority. I always was. But more than that, I was the Spectre who balanced the scales of cosmic justice… and soon… I would die."

The words that came out from the Spectre's mouth were rather disconcerting, and of all people, he chose to reveal himself and ask for help, it had just to be none other than John Constantine.

"You ain't inspiring confidence, mate," he combed his blonde hair in an attempt to hide his anxiety. "I didn't like involving myself with you capes, but you were one fucking exception. Your cosmic ass was about to be handed down, and ooh… I had to see that for myself."

Very recently, John's mind was in turmoil. He might have seemed like he was in a mood for joking, but that was his only way now to ease his worry. The Spectre was most likely saying the truth considering his ever-encompassing Cosmic Awareness that transcended reality.

"If you were so worried," taking a sip from a glass of margarita, John leaned back on the bar trying to look chill. "Why didn't you just hitch Dr. Fate? The guy sure packed a lot more firepower than I do, I admit… but I'd still beat him to a fight if it came to it."

Spectre replied, "Death comes to us all, Constantine… And I needed you to make a deal on behalf of all Life. I fear this might be the start of something infinitely irreversible."

The atmosphere in the dimly lit bar seemed to shift as Spectre's words hung in the air like an ominous prelude to a cosmic symphony. John Constantine, the chain-smoking, wise-cracking occultist, stared at the Spectre with a mix of skepticism and curiosity, his piercing blue eyes narrowing.

"Making deals, mate, that's what I do best," John replied, taking a long drag from his cigarette and exhaling a cloud of smoke. "But dealing with cosmic entities and the fate of all life? That's a bit out of my usual pay grade, you know? Wait, is this Darkseid with his Anti-Life shit again? Call Batman or Supes for that."

Spectre's eyes glowed with an ethereal light as he leaned in closer, his spectral form casting an otherworldly glow on the bar. "Constantine, you may be an unconventional ally, but the cosmic balance is at stake. I need someone who understands the shades of gray, the intricate dance between good and evil."

John raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk playing on his lips. "So, what's the grand plan, mate? Are we talking about preventing your imminent demise, or is this a 'save the universe' kind of deal? Because, you know, I've got a busy schedule of avoiding trouble and dodging my own death."

Spectre's response carried a gravity that echoed through the very fabric of existence. "I am bound by the laws of the cosmos. I act in ways that even I cannot prevent. I am a phenomenon more than man, god, or anything. Understand that soon, I will have to come to a confrontation with a kind of contradictory wickedness most refer to as Death, and when I do come face to face… with it… I will die."

John leaned back in his chair, the flicker of concern briefly replacing his nonchalant demeanor. "Alright, Spectre, let's say I agree to this cosmic babysitting job. What's in it for me? Eternal gratitude? A cosmic favor coupon? Because, as much as I like a good cosmic adventure, I'm not exactly eager to play babysitter to the universe… more than that, die."

Spectre's voice resonated with a sense of urgency. "There are few beings in the cosmos that can claim and represent Death… but this time, it is different. Others would look like pale imitation in its presence, and I assure you… When I say Death Personified, I mean it with all of my being."

John Constantine smirked, taking another sip of his margarita. "Well, mate, you've got yourself a deal. But don't think this makes us best pals. Moreover, you have to tell me more…"

---

"Let me begin with a story," Spectre hovered beside John who just teleported to their destination— a seemingly mundane forest.

Spectre continued on his storytelling with an air of mystery, weaving his tale as John looked around, taking in the surroundings of the mysterious forest.

"Long ago, in the vast expanse of the multiverse, there existed a being of unimaginable power and malevolence. A force so formidable that it threatened the very fabric of reality itself."

John was curious, "What force are you talking about?"

Spectre pausing for effect waved his hand as if conjuring illusory visuals to aid his storytelling, and he did conjure those— fights, battles, wars, and crisis after crisis… "The Anti-Monitor. A cosmic entity whose sole purpose was to annihilate entire universes, consuming them to fuel its insatiable hunger for destruction."

John was intrigued, "So, what happened? Is it the Anti-Monitor are you gonna have me deal with?"

"No," was a straight answer without hesitation. "The Anti-Monitor was a Singularity, and so was this one. The difference was the Anti-Monitor was like a self-obsessed irrational child throwing a tantrum because he can…. But this one? This one is thinking, scheming, and has cunning beyond measure not to mention subordinates with immense potential."

Constantine asked for the name of their mysterious celebrity, he tapped his boots over the grass getting impatient as to why they were even here. "I knew a few very big baddies like Darkseid or Trigon, and I haven't heard this Anti-Monitor… as in never. So who is our mysterious celebrity?"

The Spectre answered, "Ainz Ooal Gown, who in every conceivable reality that I had peered through— has killed me. It was always me, the 'Spectre' that died first from him as if it was a pre-ordained fate. While this Ainz Ooal Gown might not be as destructive as the mythological Anti Monitor, Ainz Ooal Gown had the illogical ability to grow beyond reason…"

John raised an eyebrow, absorbing the gravity of the situation. "Ainz Ooal Gown? I've never heard of him. What makes him so dangerous?"

Spectre's ethereal form seemed to shudder as if recalling a dark memory. "Ainz Ooal Gown was once a player in a virtual reality game, but something went awry. He transcended the confines of the game and became a being with the power to reshape realities. His ambitions are vast, and his intellect is unparalleled."

Constantine, still tapping his boots impatiently, interjected, "Sounds like a real piece of work. His origin story for one is verily weird… Aren't we maybe misunderstanding something here? A VR game giving Godly Power just sounds so fucking ridiculous, isn't it? What's the plan here, Spectre?"

Spectre's gaze lingered on the illusory images of battles and crises he conjured for his storytelling. "Ainz Ooal Gown has set his sights on this particular reality. As to why, I don't know. But very soon, he will make changes to this world, then to the universe, and who knows where."

John surveyed the surroundings, a sense of urgency creeping into his voice. "So, where is he? What's our move?"

To John Constantine, he felt suddenly less motivated. How much harm can a game character really do? The Spectre seemed to know a lot about the said Ainz Ooal Gown, but John wouldn't bother to care anymore… In fact, John was coming to realize that the Spectre might be pulling a prank on him.

But John changed his mind very soon… as a tomb of illogical proportion sprung up from the void. "Seriously, I feel like I am hearing Final Boss music all too suddenly."

"A little warning, John," The Spectre added with severity to his tone. "Never let Ainz know that we know that he came from a VR world, a game, to which I believe even now were yet to be truly confirmed. I guessed you had to find that out for yourself after my death."

At this moment, John was screaming at his mind, complaining to the Spectre— if it was yet to be fucking 100% confirmed, then you should have kept this to yourself, you fucking wanker! VR GAME!? Does this look like fucking VR to you!? The magic in this was fookin' strong, ya really want me to get killed, you damn ghost!

---

How much did the Spectre know of Ainz Ooal Gown?

The truth— nothing, except what the Skeleton had shared with him.

The Skeleton was inscrutable that way. At one point in time, the Spectre had befriended the Skeleton against all of his basest instincts. Through their short friendship, the Spectre had glimpsed what he believed to be humanity from the skeleton— a love for his family— Nazarick and his everything.

But to all that was different, and thanks to the inherently destructive nature of the DC Universe as Spectre came to know of it, Ainz Ooal Gown was set on a path of the inevitable. The Spectre only learned a tiny bit of Ainz Ooal Gown and the Universe after he forcibly used Harley Quinn to access a state for Fourth Wall Awareness.

The Spectre had only seen little, but he swore, he almost self-destructed.

At this point, the Spectre didn't really know what it was doing anymore… It was just struggling, perhaps in a sense of duty towards the universe, the multiverse, or whatever was beyond that.

"I will die, but in exchange… I hope, more would live."

---

The DMMO-RPG—YGGDRASIL was an enigma.

Would you know its story?

For its most mundane users, it was just a game… a Dive Massively Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Game of the most cutting-edge technology. But to a rare few? This was their second life.

But what was its true nature? Really? It couldn't be just that! Considering a lot of Momonga had actually found themselves in their own independent alternate realities regardless of scale, it was more than enough to realize that YGGDRASIL for all of its lies may actually have been something more… You see, it just had created a God, one that personified Death.

One Momonga would end up in a fantasy-esque world where dwarves, elves, dragons, and humans existed, while other versions of him as a result of planar rebounds would have ended in other more independent realities where the scale was bigger— now, I present to you the DC Universe!

From the bowels of the most eldritch terrors, the Overlord of Death, Ainz Ooal Gown descended upon Earth-N/A. Year 2024, February 01.

Fun fact— analysis of story and game mechanics had shown the Overlord's Data and his Possessions would mutate and evolve every time he would experience True Planar Transmigration, thus scaling his data no matter what kind of reality he would end up in.

---

Suzuki Satoru, now Momonga… had a mug that was unmistakably that of a polished ivory skull. He just had fondled Albedo's chest, when he thought, "Ah, I think I am screwed…" He had just changed Albedo's Character Settings after all which was bad… very bad… it was a disrespect to Tabula Smaragdina's memories.

"My beloved," cried Albedo with what Momonga assumed as crazed and fanatic love. "Take me now, my lord for I am yours—"

At this point, Momonga was dazed as his Emotion Suppressors kicked in. The Guardians of the Tomb of Nazarick gathered on the 6th Floor as he had ordered them… One by one, the guardians then had given their salutations, passionate in their every word.

All of the Guardians were accounted for except Victim and Gargantua. There was Albedo, Demiurge, Shalltear, Mare, Aura, and Cocytus.

Everything was happening too fast.

With the Amphitheater in the background, Momonga watched over his subjects all of them looking at him in adoration. The expectations their eyes had set upon him were heavy, but welcome.

Suddenly, Momonga had then heard Sebas Tian's voice through the Message Function informing him that the now Tomb of Nazarick was surrounded by a forest and that they had visitors.

In the midst of the unexpected turn of events, Momonga's composure wavered as he tried to make sense of the situation.

The Guardians stood before him, their expressions a mix of loyalty and admiration. Albedo's declaration of love echoed in the air as Momonga's mind raced to comprehend the consequences of his impulsive actions.

"My lord, oh beloved," Albedo continued with fervor, her eyes ablaze with devotion. "Command me, and I shall fulfill your every desire."

Momonga, feeling the weight of Tabula Smaragdina's disapproval, cleared his throat. "Albedo, this is not the time for such matters. We have visitors. Sebas Tian, report."

Sebas Tian who rose from the shadows bowed respectfully and relayed the urgent message. "My lord, the Tomb of Nazarick is now surrounded by a dense forest. We have unknown visitors approaching."

Momonga's eyes narrowed with concern. "Unknown visitors? Prepare for any situation. Guardians, be on high alert. Raise the security level to the highest imaginable."

"Your command has been received, arinsu~" Shalltear sweetly replied, her crimson Victorian dress swaying as she curtsied.

"I. SHALL. NOT. FAIL. MY. LORD." Cocytus added, his voice was a deep baritone as his sky blue carapace shimmered as he moved.

As the Guardians assumed defensive positions and their apt stations, Momonga addressed Albedo. "Albedo, we'll discuss this later. For now, focus on our current situation."

Albedo reluctantly nodded, her eyes still filled with adoration. Momonga activated the Message Function to communicate with the other NPCs.

"Attention, all residents of Nazarick. We have visitors. Stay vigilant and report any unusual activity. We don't know their intentions, so be prepared for anything."

The Guardians exchanged glances, determination evident in their eyes. Mare spoke up, "Fear not, Lord Momonga. We shall protect Nazarick at all costs." And then Aura added, "And that we shall do!"

Momonga acknowledged their loyalty with a nod. "Good. Sebas, invite our guests amicably to our abode… Let's show them our hospitality, shall we?"

---

"What can you tell me about this Ainz fella?" asked John to Spectre.

Spectre answered, "Treat him at the level of the so-called New Gods, I believed you had a few brush-ins with them…"

"Well, the problem was most of my memories of them were blurry…" But then, John had suddenly shut up. "Show yourself!"

Appearing eerily from nowhere was a refined old (?) man with a strong physique who was wearing what John perceived as a butler's outfit. "Greetings," he did an elegant bow. "My Master wished to invite you to his abode."

John frowned, feeling uncomfortable at the sight of the old man as if he could see through his very nature… and this would rarely happen to him… He was John Constantine! "This is definitely not magic, but it was certainly supernatural… occult, not so sure… almost reminded me of the arts from the east."

The Spectre hummed softly in response, "You got that on point."

"Can he see you?" John asked, so blatantly obvious as if hiding Spectre didn't even cross his mind. But what use was hiding when it was the fact that no matter what, Spectre here was so sure he'd end up dead after meeting the mysterious Ainz Ooal Gown.

The one who answered was not Spectre, but the old man. "I could not see him, but I certainly felt there was a presence. I would appreciate it if the dear guests could show themselves. If it was a racial function, then that would be too bad."

With a thought, Spectre revealed himself.

John clicked his tongue in half-annoyance. He knew Spectre was a prick for his insistence on always maintaining an air of mystery by only showing himself to selected people as if he was some big shot, and it irked John that Spectre was so cooperative this time.

"How about we begin with names?" The old man added in a show to ingratiate himself. "My name is Sebas Tian. Please call me Sebas."

"Very creative name…" John felt his motivation continuously deflating. "I thought it would sound more, I don't know. Villainy?" And then again, his joking was another poor method to distract his own anxieties slowly building up.

The power emanating from the Tomb that had just sprung up from the void was like that of his House of Mysteries, but bigger, scarier, and possibly better in all aspects not that John was jealous, but he would hate to admit that there was something superior to the House of Mysteries.

Sebas Tian chuckled politely at John's comment. "Names are but labels, and I find simplicity to be elegant. Now, may I inquire about your name, esteemed guest?"

John smirked, not one to easily succumb to formalities. "John Constantine, at your service, Sebas. Now, spill the beans. What was your lot doing here in my realm? My friend here, Spectre was fidgety, and I had never seen him this fidgety before."

Sebas maintained his composure, "Unfortunately, I couldn't answer… Perhaps only my master would know the answer to this."

John arched an eyebrow, a hint of suspicion lingering in his gaze. "Well, I'm not one to join any fancy cults or follow mysterious overlords. What's he after?"

Sebas smiled, a polite gesture that didn't reach his eyes. "I have been asked by my Master to be hospitable and cordial, but even an old man like me has his temper. You have been invited, and that was all."

John smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Alright, Sebas, lead the way. But remember, I don't dance to anyone's tune. I'm just here for the show and maybe a good deal. If your Master steps out of line, though, he'll have more than a devil to deal with."

Sebas inclined his head, acknowledging John's terms. "Understood, Mr. Constantine. Please follow me, and I assure you, my Master values diplomacy over conflict. He was a kind and benevolent being after all."

A dark ellipse portal sprung up beside Sebas. "Please," he gestured, pointing to the dark curtain.

John was never shy about magic portals, thus he walked through the portal without any misgivings. As the trio moved towards the unknown grand hallways where they landed, John couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter would unfold into a… more problematic chapter of his life.

---

Sebas was worried, and he should be. The being who claimed to go by Spectre was unfathomable beyond measure almost reminding him of the 41 Supreme Beings, but he wouldn't let that impede his job as a butler.

But truthfully, what was the right choice?

It would have been perfect if he could contact Demiurge or Albedo. "I could, actually," so he did.

Using the Message Function, he addressed Albedo first as she was the foremost and overtly leader of the Guardians. While guiding the guests, John Constantine and the Spectre at a relatively slow pace, he asked Albedo for her opinion.

"Albedo, my apologies for disturbing you, but I find myself in a perplexing situation," Sebas mentally called as if it were telepathy, using the appropriate skills in combination to hide their conversation. Desperate moments called for drastic measures, so despite the lack of experimentation on the changes, he went and called for counsel.

Within moments, Albedo's response was heard. "Sebas, what is the matter? We are in the midst of hosting these guests." Her words were dripping with disdain. "Make it brief. I am busy with re-allocating resources to guard the Throne Room…"

Sebas hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "I have encountered an entity calling itself Spectre. I am unsure how to proceed and thought to seek your guidance. This one had a rather unfathomable amount of power perhaps even on the level of a Supreme Being."

Albedo's immediate response displayed a hint of irritation. "Sebas, are you questioning the authority and supremacy of the Supreme Beings by entertaining such thoughts? Such notions are blasphemous!"

Sebas bowed his head slightly, even though Albedo couldn't see the gesture through the message. "My apologies, Albedo. I did not mean to imply any disrespect. I am merely uncertain about the nature of this being and how it might affect our master's interests."

Albedo's anger seemed to simmer beneath her composed response. "You are correct to seek guidance. However, do not let doubt cloud your loyalty. Report the situation, but remember your place, Sebas."

Sebas acknowledged her words with a respectful message. "Understood, Albedo. I will continue to observe and report as necessary. Thank you for your counsel."

"Sebas, I don't know what you are doing, but I would kindly inform you that Spectre here has omniscient knowledge and awareness, allowing him to perceive events happening across the entire multiverse. This awareness extends to the past, present, and future." John called to Sebas in a mocking tone, but actually, he was mocking Spectre. "What I meant was I'd like to very much discourage you to avoid playing tricks on us…"

"I wouldn't dare," Sebas answered, and finally, they stood before a regal gate adorned with ebony, gold, and an unknown symbol. "This was where we would part."

---

Momonga sat on his regal throne, the Staff of Ains Ooal Gown hovering just beside him. Its red aura permeated with grand power… Within the Throne Room, he was visibly alone, yet the truth was… the place was brimming with stealth-type creatures who would pounce at the first chance they got.

Not to mention the Guardians who were at stand-by similarly under invisibility of some kind empowered by Momonga's Skill Bonuses and his Staff. In a word, Momonga was loaded, and with his seemingly Level 100 Data which represented the peak for Players, he was more than powerful enough to care for himself.

However, he wouldn't delude himself into thinking that he was infallible.

First and foremost, he would need information.

When the gate moved, there appeared his guests— a mortal man exuding the presence of magic, his name was John Constantine according to Sebas's reports. And beside that man was a green-caped man with pale skin hovering just above the ground.

Momonga had cast his magic consecutively, "Mana Essence, Life Essence." And he saw the amount of Mana and Life Force the two had.

John Constantine had impressive Mana, roughly putting him at Level 50 just by his Mana values alone. Doing the computation backward, including John's Life Force, he would be roughly at Level 34.

With a deep sigh, Momonga greeted his guests. "Behold— I am Ainz Ooal Gown. I couldn't prepare a much warmer welcome, so I hope my meeting with you like this wouldn't put you off."

Looking with extra scrutiny at Spectre, Momonga could not help but feel his chest tighten— he had done another set of computations in his head, perhaps his Intelligence Stats and Wisdom Stats working together at overdrive… The Spectre had ridiculous amounts of Mana and Life Force, putting him beyond the parameters of mere players.

If Momonga had to choose a word, he'd put Spectre at the level of a Raid Boss, maybe even near a World Enemy, the kind that Momonga would have to subjugate with all of his Guild's resources, and that was including his friends' help.

Momonga continued, testing for information, "My people had been befuddled as we had an accident recently. Something that I could not understand its nature… not to mention even with the most brilliant minds my subordinates could offer. So I wish to make this quick, what is it you want from me?"

Though it might just be a coincidence, Momonga could not help but feel an inkling of suspicion at how good the timing of his hosts was, to be seemingly waiting for their— The Tomb of Nazarick's— arrival.

John Constantine smirked, his eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief. "Well, mate, we ain't exactly here for a cup of tea and biscuits. Got ourselves a bit of a situation, you see. Spectre here and I were just passing through dimensions, and, lo and behold, we ended up in your neck of the woods."

It was a poor excuse that even the not-so-brilliant Momonga could see through.

Spectre, the enigmatic figure with a green cape, floated silently, his pale visage unreadable. Momonga could sense the immense power emanating from him, a force to be reckoned with.

Momonga, now Ainz Ooal Gown maintained his composure, his skeletal face betraying none of the thoughts racing through his mind. "Coincidence or not, your timing is quite impeccable. Speak your purpose, and let's get to the heart of the matter." Thankfully, a skeleton face wouldn't really need any extra effort to put on a poker face.

John Constantine chuckled, a raspy sound that echoed in the vast chamber. "Right to the point, then. What I have here was a contract—and it's bound to the universe… this was basically penned by Spec here. Please see."

Momonga raised his bony hand, a gesture for John to elaborate. "Continue. What does this have to do with me and the Tomb of Nazarick?"

Spectre's voice, cold and otherworldly, echoed in the room. "This Contract was a request— you see, I am a very special entity. I function in ways that even I cannot interfere with. Like a program meant to course the Universe and Beyond, I act on unseen protocols that had robbed me of my free will."

"What do you mean?" Momonga's voice had a certain edge to it, as at the back of his head, something very wrong was about to happen.

"For example, like this." Spectre raised his right hand, and uttered, "You see, it was my life's purpose to eradicate your ilk."

"Divine Judgement!" unleashed the Spectre.

Rays of light burst from Momonga's ivory bones and for the first time in this world, he had learned of pain. "Aaa-gh!" He may have overreacted since the pain was at the level of having his toe stubbed, and moreover, he was geared with defensive protections.

It was problematic though that light continued on pouring in his being, seeking to eradicate him.

Before even Momonga could counterattack, his Guardians had sprung to action… all of them blinded by hate, anger, and love for their creator… and that was when Momonga had truly begun to hurt— more than he could endure. They were immature, newly born minds, trapped within perspectives Momonga used to refer to as Character Settings.

Spectre was definitely at the level of a World Enemy, not to mention one with intelligence.

Laid to waste before Momonga were the lifeless figures of Demiurge and Albedo— the two's defense abilities were formidable, but Spectre tore through them with the same magical ability he had unleashed on Momonga— that blinding light that seeped from an individual's being inside and out.

"Divine Judgment, was it?" Momonga's voice was low.

At this point, Momonga had long ordered Sebas to restrain the Pleidaes Maids lest they join the casualties. "Mass Hold Species," Momonga uttered, enforcing his magic to his subordinates who stood still at his words, including the other stealth-based creatures in hiding that were waiting for his command.

Shalltear had teary eyes as she glanced over Albedo's dead body, and then at the Spectre, "I would make sure you shall know—"

Before even Momonga could cast a Mass Teleport Spell, Spectre had cast his so-called Divine Judgement which quickly turned Shalltear to ash. "You see, Ainz Ooal Gown, this was my program embedded in my soul. The contract I had my representative here was to take advantage of the loophole that the 'Spectre' represented. You see, the 'Spectre' was more of an Occupation than an Ability that came with me. Meaning with my death, there will be a new Spectre, but with your cooperation—"

"YOU_YOU_YOU!" Aura's eyes had turned red, and out of her sheer willpower, she broke through the Mass Hold Species. "I WOULD FLAY YOU AND FEED YOU TO THE DOGS!"

Spectre merely continued on his narrative, seemingly unmoved by the dark elf whose whip strikes just passed through him, "I hoped that you would take the path of co-existence and that—"

"Mass Teleport," Momonga had cut off Spectre as he teleported with him through the 6th Floor, the Amphitheater where the only audience was John Constantine. "I see. Your Divine Judgement induces great damage to creatures with high Negative Karma Value. The name was unoriginal. Considering that you got easily taken for the ride with my Mass Teleport, it was either you lacked magical defenses or you were faking the lack of them."

There was silent rage in Momonga's voice. "I had been naïve inviting you into my home, taking it in great strides that I would be safe… that my children would be safe… I was arrogant." The orb in Momonga's core pulsated with rabid energy, not to mention the golden staff in his right hand crying madly with souls that had been sacrificed to it. "Divine Judgement, was it? Then how about you receive my judgment?"

---

John Constantine watched the unfolding chaos with a casual smirk, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and calculation. He leaned against an invisible barrier, his trench coat billowing as he enjoyed the spectacle before him.

"Well, ain't this a right mess," he mused, taking a drag from a cigarette that appeared seemingly out of thin air. "Never thought I'd see the day when the green-capped zombie would have a run-in with the likes of this Lich and yours truly."

The skeletal figure of Ainz Ooal Gown, now visibly pulsating with anger, faced off against the spectral entity that had just laid waste to some of Nazarick's formidable denizens. John couldn't help but be impressed by the raw power on display, even if it did jeopardize his own plan.

"You see, Ainz, mate," John said, his British accent dripping with nonchalance, "Spectre here's got a bit of obsession over responsibility. Seems like he's been programmed to be the cosmic janitor, cleaning up the mess that beings like you leave behind."

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

John began sweating, his cig dropping from his fingers, and his hands clasped on the rails with evident worry. "What the fucking hell is that?"

A gothic clockwork appeared behind the angry skeleton whose unholy red flames in its eyes continued to burn with hate— true hate that John could almost taste it.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

"It is my loss," The Spectre quickly admitted, the effects of whatever spell that was, not even activating yet. And John wouldn't know why exactly the Spectre had given up. What was even happening?

"Aren't you even gonna try?" Ainz gritted his teeth, a palpable disappointment at the defeatist attitude of the Spectre. "You had to try for my sake, or else I will feel empty on killing you. Not even a token of defiance? Surely, you could do more."

"Yes, I indeed could do more. I could bend reality and time as I will it, but you will find me. And you will kill me. The reason I killed your children was not out of my free will, but a sense of justice the Aspect of Aztar had enforced in me. For millennia, I had been co-existing with it, but I was tired now. I could and would continue if only I had not met you. I am the divine purger of the wicked… and you are wicked."

The red flames in Ainz's eyes dimmed. "A disappointment, but I should be content with taking your life."

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

"The Goal of All Life is Death!" Ainz raised his bony palm and atop it was a heart, with force, he crushed it. "Grasp Heart!" With only such words, the Spectre then came hurtling down the Amphitheatre. And with paranoid-induced extra measures... "True Death!" Ainz unleashed another powerful spell, ensuring that the Spectre was killed with finality.

However, Ainz was not done yet as he had quickly cast a spell on himself. "Greater Luck." And then following that was another skill— "Dark Wisdom~"

Visible to the naked eye, the Spectre's ghostly visage turned to small dark spots, gathered in the air, and then merged with the staff that Ainz was carrying. John didn't know what the hell that was, and multiple times, he was continuously surprised by magic he had never seen before.

Ainz stood over John Constantine, teleported actually right on John's face. "John Constantine. Read me the contract." He demanded. With the Spectre dead, this leaves John and Ainz Ooal Gown.

John was nervous, the contract was after all, possibly world damning, stating that in the event that Ainz Ooal Gown had won a duel against the Spectre, the latter shall give up the 'position' of the Spectre to the victor— abilities, powers, and everything ensuring a path to Godhood without mistake.

Now, the hard part was selling the 'position' to Ainz.

John Constantine wiped the sweat off his brow, his nerves on edge as Ainz Ooal Gown towered over him. The dangerously golden staff remained beside him, floating. John was almost tempted to grab it and run, but any mystic worth their salt would know better than to do it in front of the monster that was… Gown.

"Well, mate, you've gone and done it," John said, his voice shaky but trying to maintain his usual bravado. "You've defeated the Spectre fair and square. Now, about that contract... just please sign here…"

Ainz's empty sockets seemed to bore into John's soul as he awaited an explanation. John took a deep breath and began to recount the terms of the contract, each word feeling heavier than the last.

"In the unfortunate event of the Spectre's defeat, the victor, that's you, would inherit the position of the Spectre. Powers, everything, and a sure-win one-way ticket to Godhood. It's all there in the fine print," John explained, his eyes flickering towards the Red Orb displayed just on the skeleton's torso, wondering if it was a weak point of some sort.

Ainz's skeletal face betrayed no emotion, but John could sense the weight of the decision pressing on him. "Godhood, you say?" Ainz mused, his voice echoing through the amphitheater. "What does this 'position' entail, Constantine?"

John gulped, choosing his words carefully. "Well, mate, you become the divine purger of the wicked. The Spectre's job is to maintain cosmic balance, hand out justice, and make sure the bad guys get what's coming to 'em. It's a high-stakes game, but the perks include near-omnipotence and a front-row seat to the secrets of the universe, basically a cosmic awareness that will give you near omniscience!"

Ainz considered the offer, his bony fingers tapping rhythmically on the staff. "And what of the drawbacks?"

"Oh, you know, the usual," John replied with a wry grin. "Existential loneliness, the burden of playing judge, jury, and executioner, and the occasional cosmic headache. But hey, who wouldn't want to be a god?"

---

Momonga leaned in closer, his eye sockets inches away from John's face. "You're not telling me everything, Constantine. I am no fool." The truth was… Momonga was just bluffing at this point, but it appeared it worked.

John's facade cracked, revealing a hint of desperation. "Look, Ainz, it's a bloody complicated gig. You'll have powers beyond your wildest dreams, but you'll also be tethered to a sense of justice that might drive you mad. And trust me, dealing with cosmic entities and their whims can be a right pain in the arse. But you look fit for the job! You are so strong you one-sidedly brutalized one of the few beings who could traverse the Multiverse with a thought!"

For some reason, Momonga got this impression from Mr. Constantine of a desperate and too-hardworking salaryman. "Very well, Constantine. I will sign this contract… tomorrow."

Momonga had bigger priorities at this moment— first and foremost, resurrecting his family.

---

Despair would always start with the minority. For the Spectre, for me… I had always been the start of it. Despair. Despair. Despair. Despair.

One host to another, all vessel for vengeance to the wicked, divine or not, I had led a life with the same never-ending recurring theme few would refer to as 'despair' but many would definitely refer to as a Gift.

Being the Spectre had destroyed my personality.

I had lost who I am.

But I never gave up on it, because giving up on it meant passing the painful burden to another, a fate I would never want another to carry. I had nothing to hold on to, thus in the continuous poring over realities and doing my responsibilities, I had come to realize I was degrading.

I am Immortal in mind, body, and spirit, but not in motivation.

If only being the 'Spectre' was so easy. In numerous realities, I had bumped heads with those who had fit 'wickedness' to the tee, hoping to either pass my curse to them or just fulfill my duties on behalf of the cosmos.

But no. True Wickedness was a more difficult foe than anyone could have ever imagined. The true enemy no matter what the iteration, had always been perception. I had fought Darkseid, different kinds of New Gods, and even Trigon in hopes of pursuing my vision of justice… and at some point, hoped to complete my penance.

It was all futile.

My conscience wouldn't allow me to pass on the mantle, or abandon it so irresponsibly.

And then I met the perfect candidate, one who held a smidgen of humanity in him, one beyond the conceivable reality, and one… who was more amiable than the more self-destructive psychopaths of the multiverse.

His name was—

 

[Alfir]

Within the Throne of Kings, Momonga sat alone by the stairs. He watched the hovering Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown beside him, and then at the throne. His mind was in turmoil— "Hmmm… I don't like this…"

The emotions in his non-existent heart continued to pour in, worming their way into every crevice of his imagination. "The Spectre was incredibly strong, and I had let him kill my precious family…" He stood up, and with hate, he kicked the throne reserved for the Guild Master of Ainz Ooal Gown.

Of course, the throne remained intact.

The Emotion Suppressors were doing little to suppress his rage. Momonga looked: at the dead corpse of Albedo with white cracks spreading through her skin, at the petrified stone-like visage of Demiurge with veins of lava, and then at Shalltear's ash carefully placed within a jar.

Again, rage enveloped Momonga. He punched the pillar beside him, but with his Strength Stats as a magic caster and with the predominant rules in place, it did little to damage the pillar let alone shake the floor. However, shockwaves were produced every time Momonga threw a punch. Though just a magic caster, Momonga was still a Maxed Level 100 Magic Caster.

The gates for the Throne Room opened, and appearing from there was Pandora's Actor. "My Fuhrer!" He said and then stopped, noticing Momonga's unbridled bloodlust. "Uuhmm… Apologies…" Pandora's Actor added.

Pandora's Actor even with a naturally silly personality could not bring himself to act faithfully by his 'Character Settings' given the sight of his creator. And because Momonga felt miserable, Pandora's Actor felt miserable too.

"Apologies for showing you such a miserable sight, Pandora's Actor." Momonga finally calmed down and sat on his throne.

Pandora's Actor taking this as a cue for him, began with an elegant bow, "I have come to be of service to you, My Lord Fuhrer! I came here with utmost haste after I learned of your calling upon me."

"Fuhrer? No. Just address me like how the others would," Momonga did his best to appear calm. "Hmmm… just address me as Momon— no, never mind… Did you bring it?"

"Yes, all of the gold that you have requested is here in my inventory," At his answer, gold coins unique to Yggdrasil began pouring from where Pandora's Actor stood.

"With this amount, it should be possible to resurrect them via the Guild Function." Momonga nodded at the sight of gold pouring out from Pandora's Actor.

Quickly piles and piles of gold gathered, and there were millions of them— each genuine gold coin unique to Yggdrasil. This was Momonga's first time to see face to face an actual gold pile, so he was awed by the sight of it, but his Emotion Suppressors quickly kicked in.

As an Undead, he had biologically become incapable of feeling emotions, but he was not entirely emotionless as evidenced by the anger that continued to pulse within him.

Though his humanity would strongly hold to his obsessions and what remained of his essence as a person, he in fact had ceased being a human the moment he had come to this body.

Without further ado, Momonga proceeded to resurrect the NPCs— Albedo, Demiurge, and Shalltear.

Pandora's Actor continued to pour the mountain of gold onto the floor of the Throne Room, creating a dazzling display of wealth. Momonga gazed at the piles of gold with a mixture of awe and detachment, his emotions kept in check by the intangible Emotional Suppressors that maintained his calm.

With a wave of his hand, Momonga signaled for Pandora's Actor to stop. "That's enough," he said, his voice calm and controlled. "Now, let's bring them back."

Pandora's Actor nodded and stopped.

Momonga approached the lifeless bodies of Albedo, Demiurge, and then the jar of Shalltear's ash. With a theatrical flourish of the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown, he activated the Guild Function with a thought, and a soft glow enveloped each fallen NPC. Momonga watched intently as the magical process unfolded.

As the light subsided, the once lifeless bodies now stirred. Albedo's cracked skin healed, and color returned to her complexion. Demiurge's petrified form softened, and veins of lava receded. Shalltear's jar of ash began to vibrate, and a new, whole form emerged from it swallowing the jar along the process.

The three NPCs blinked, disoriented as if just waking up from a deep slumber. Momonga's non-existent heart felt a twinge of relief. "Welcome back, my loyal guardians," he greeted them, his tone a mix of formality and genuine care.

Albedo, Demiurge, and Shalltear looked around, registering their surroundings. Albedo, ever devoted, immediately knelt before Momonga. "My Lord, I am at your service," she declared with unwavering loyalty.

Demiurge and Shalltear followed suit, expressing their allegiance to their Supreme Overlord. Momonga acknowledged their loyalty with a nod. "Rise, my friends. We have much to discuss. Moreover, I have to apologize for failing all of you."

Momonga then proceeded to Albedo, dragged her to Demiurge, and then to Shalltear. With his strong arms, he then hugged all three of them. "I am sorry, I truly am…"

"Please, My Lord…" cried Shalltear weakly.
"…Do not, Supreme One." gritted Demiurge's teeth in self-reproach.
"We don't deserve this," uttered Albedo softly.

The trio stood still, trapped within Momonga's embrace, and then his gaze shifted to Pandora's Actor. "You have done well. I appreciate your swift response," Momonga commended with heartfelt appreciation.

Pandora's Actor beamed with pride, as he walked to them… he also joined in the hug, his form hugging Momonga, it seemed comical, but Momonga left him be.

As the atmosphere in the Throne Room began to stabilize, Momonga couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of purpose. "Never again would I allow death to ever deny me… Mark my words."

There and then… Momonga had decided… He was not to be 'Momonga' any longer, but become— Ainz Ooal Gown with finality and surety. If he wanted to survive in this world with his precious friends' memories, he had to represent it proudly, and he must have the resolve to see through it.

"Hear this, my Guardians. From henceforth, I shall be known as Ainz Ooal Gown. Spread the word for I have decided— Nazarick is my everything— thus I have chosen to stay."

The One That Stayed… that had a rather nice and bittersweet ring to it.

---

John Constantine lit himself a new cig as he reclined on the super comfy sofa, "Agh, that hits the spot…" He puffed one, two, and then three. "This shouldn't get worse, isn't it, luv?"

With a wry smile, he looked up at the maid exuding equally powerful magic. "Say, where is your master now? I'd rather be done with it." Aesthetic-wise, the 'woman' more than a 'maid' looked pleasant to the eyes almost on par with Zatanna… and John couldn't help but worry for Zatanna though she was not here.

"You don't get to address the Supreme One so casually, you worm," answered the woman. She had dark raven hair, fair milky white skin, and oriental features. "Behave yourself if you wish for your head to remain intact, you plebeian scum."

John took another drag of his cigarette, unfazed by the maid's disdain. He exhaled a cloud of smoke and chuckled, "Ah, love, no need for name-calling. Just trying to make the end of the world a bit more enjoyable, you know?"

The maid scowled, her eyes narrowing. "You think this is a joke, human scum? The Supreme One's power far surpasses your comprehension. You are smug, yes, and there is an air of confidence in you, but I can see through you— you are just an arrogant ignoramus thinking he could benefit out of this."

John raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider. "Oh, I'm well aware of the stakes, sweetheart. But no harm in trying to keep the mood light, is there?" He tapped the ashes off his cigarette, glancing around the opulent room. "I really don't understand why you have to be pissed. Your master had killed my precious friend, and here I am, putting in the effort to be cordial. Your way over in your head."

The maid, still radiating an aura of magical potency, crossed her arms. "…" Though not a word had been said, her face seemed to say 'We'll see about that.'

John leaned forward, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Well, until the big bad boss arrives, care to share a few secrets, darling? What's the endgame here, and how does your Master… er.. The Supreme One fit into all of this?"

The maid's lips curled into a sinister smile. "You're in no position to make demands, mortal. But I suppose a little entertainment before your demise won't hurt." She paced around the room, her steps echoing with an otherworldly grace. "Hmmm… If you want to learn secrets then I supposed, I wouldn't mind."

As John continued to smoke, he listened and watched intently, his nonchalant demeanor masking a keen interest. The maid began to sit before him on the other end of the sofa.

"What is it that you wish to ask?" Her question was direct.

John grinned, flicking the cigarette butt onto an ornate ashtray set on the table. "Just one, love. Your name… and also the others— that big blue bug, those two children, what else? Ah, those who got themselves killed by my friend… Spectre sure didn't pull any punches… The one with the glasses, that vampire shorty, and then that succubus…"

The way he asked sounded malicious and this was a form of test on his part… to check whether he'd be left alive or dead after he was finished with his business. Within a blink of an eye, the maid stood before John as if she teleported.

A golden staff plated with silver hovered just above John's eye, and its wielder, the maid shook in fury very reluctant about not being able to take his life. "You are fortunate that I have been vocally given orders to not take your life."

As such, the maid withdrew the staff, and walked out, leaving John on his own, alone in the room.

John calmed his heart at the maid's explosive outburst, and when the maid was finally gone, he then exhaled with relief for surviving the ire of the maid. One thing he learned from that interaction was that they wouldn't kill him anytime soon.

"Oof…" John looked at the ceiling, his thoughts were in a whirlwind of chaos. "You wouldn't mind giving me a bit of privacy, don't ya? I'd like a time for myself… alone."

Appearing from the shades of the lamp was Sebas. "Apologies, but I have to stay and watch over you. It is impressive that you are able to detect me. Though I may not look like it, I am fairly confident with my abilities."

"I am a detective on top of being a mystic. That maid, she seems to possess great hate towards me. And she seems to really want to kill me. I don't see any reason why she cannot. Then I thought of you— it is obvious, really— she is a maid and you are a butler. If she chooses to not kill me, then that means her direct superior must be watching."

John's words were confident, and he had deduced right.

Sebas nodded appreciatively of John's answer. "You have impressive wit. Since you so graciously answered my query, then I'd like to give you some advice."

"Go on," John clicked his tongue as he realized he just finished his cig, so he took another one.

Sebas genially gave his advice, but his words were nothing but vicious. "Everyone within the walls of Nazarick would want you dead. So for your safety, I advise you to stay in this room. I am not exactly here to oversee you, but to protect you… Your friend, Spectre had left quite an… impact, and the denizens of Nazarick were not fond of what he did."

"When could I meet your master again?" John asked impatiently, "There is a Cosmic-scale contract in me he promised to give his signature to. I wouldn't have all day. I am a busy person after all. If he didn't want the contract, then I'd just go."

"Are you sure you want to go?" Sebas was calm, and unmoving like a mountain as if John's words wouldn't matter to him. "Excuse me for a second," He added as he pressed his index and middle fingers on his temple. "My Lord, I see…"

John continued looking around with his eyes alone, checking up the artifacts casually sprawled within the room. They were all at the level of artifacts, but in this room, they were mere furniture. This would speak strongly of the amount of wealth that Ainz Ooal Gown could wield.

Sebas addressed John after his communication to John assumed to be Ainz himself. "My Lordship, the Master, the Supreme One had given his word, he was to meet you shortly ten to fifteen minutes later. I hope that satisfies you, Mr. Constantine."

---

"What is the meaning of this, Pestonya!?" Aura shouted at the Head Maid who stood by the door.

Calmly, Pestonya calmed down the angry Aura, "I had been given explicit orders by Mr. Sebas to ensure you stay in this room, Lady Aura, as such, I apologize… woof…" Pestonya's head was that of a Shetland Sheepdog, that's why to most, it would be difficult to detect her facial expressions.

But Aura was a High Tamer, as a result, to a great extent, she could read Pestonya's facial expressions as clearly as day. "Do you think, you can stop me? That human dirt still lives, and I want him dead— minced and fed to the dogs." Aura's words were dripping with violence.

Mare cowering from one corner, and holding his staff with rather an intense grip, explodes in fury, "Pestonya! Let us out! Or else…"

Appearing from the door where Pestonya was barring was the familiar figure of Shalltear, she pushed open the door causing Pestonya to move and give way to Shalltear's sudden arrival.

"What is this ruckus all about?" Shalltear began, her delicate eyebrows forming into a frown.

"You are alive!" Aura propelled forward, hugging Shalltear. Mare followed suit and joined the hugging. Pestonya simply watched, faithful to her duties as a maid.

"Of course, I am alive, silly…" Shalltear grinned. "The Supreme One had powers beyond reason and to bask in his love was more than enough to resurrect me from the ash!"

"Eh?" Mare innocently remarked, "You didn't get resurrected through the Guild Function? Wait, I thought that's what happened?"

Shalltear blushed, "Please, just allow me with my fantasies, Mare…"

"But I still wanted to kill that human," Aura remarked, her fist shaking with fury.

Shalltear didn't expect Aura to be angry on her behalf, and this somewhat made her feel fluffy on the inside which was weird, considering that she was supposed to be annoyed with Aura.

Mare added, killing intent also evident in his eyes, "Yeah, I think I would want to kill him too." He added with his trademark innocent voice intermixed with contradictory savagery. "Yeah, the human should be punished for hurting my friends. I can't just stand by and do nothing!"

Shalltear hummed softly, "No need, Lord Momonga, no… Lord Ainz had given his orders. We are not to interfere and simply stand by. The Supreme One had plans already for the human." She smiled wickedly, her cheeks transforming into an aroused pink.

---

Sitting opposite him was Ainz fitted snugly on the sofa— the looming giant of a skeleton simply sat there, waiting for John to begin with the conversation at hand.

John Constantine was a detective more than a mystic, and he had done lots of deals on behalf of his clients. That's why he was too aware that there was definitely something wrong going on, but he couldn't pinpoint exactly what. "This is the contract. On the basis that Party A had defeated Party B in a fair fight, then Party A was to receive the 'perks' of the Spectre— abilities, powers, and every asset the Spectre had in possession. There are subcomponents there, detailing what kind of perks would you receive. Also, please note that once you accept the terms of the contract, you have to step in as the new Spectre."

"You don't mind me reading this, don't you?" Ainz cordially asked as he took the paper.

John nodded, leaning back in his chair as he watched Ainz carefully peruse the contract. The air in the room seemed to shift, charged with an otherworldly tension. Ainz's bony fingers traced the words on the paper, his empty eye sockets giving off an eerie sense of focus.

Ainz's skeletal visage remained unreadable, but John could sense the gravity of the situation. Dealing with mystical entities was never a walk in the park, and the Spectre was no exception.

"Well, well," Ainz remarked, his voice echoing with an otherworldly resonance. "Quite the binding agreement you've got here. Defeat in a fair fight, perks, powers, and the whole shebang. Interesting."

John lit a cigarette, the smoke curling lazily in the air. "Yeah, interesting is one way to put it. But the devil, or in this case, the skeleton, is in the details. You'll find the subcomponents there, laying out exactly what you're getting."

Ainz continued to read, his skeletal hands flipping through the pages with an unnatural grace. "Accept the terms, become the new Spectre. That's the deal, isn't it?"

John smirked. "You've got a keen eye, Lord Ainz. Not every supernatural being bothers with the fine print."

Ainz chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down John's spine. "I appreciate the thoroughness. It's a trait we share, Mr. Constantine. So don't get me wrong. I am very and fully aware that this contract is a trap, a method to restrain me. The Spectre was an existence bound with the sacred duty of punishing the wicked. This would limit me to an unimaginable extent considering that I prefer defining wicked in ways I prefer… my ways. And not by ways imposed by an unseen rule, enforced by an unseen god, and structured in such a way that would make me but a slave to the whims of the universe."

"Do I take it that you—" John began sweating. "decline the contract?"

As the room hung in a momentary silence, Ainz finally lowered the contract. His red pinpoints of light, where eyes should be, met John's gaze. "No. I accept. I will sign." Thus, Ainz summoned a pen and immediately signed his name on the contract.

John raised an eyebrow. "You sure about this? Once you step into those spectral shoes, there's no turning back." The nagging feeling at the back of his mind continued to bother him, thus he asked hoping to gleam on what was wrong.

Ainz nodded solemnly. "I understand the consequences. But power, true power, is worth the risk."

With that, the deal was sealed, and the room seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy. John couldn't shake the feeling that, in making this contract, they had unleashed forces far beyond their understanding. But John did his best. He thought he did his best.

"This power is too great for anyone to wield, and that's why it is better for Nazarick to have it."

Seemingly out of nowhere, Ainz's bones began to melt. "Hmmm… for becoming the Spectre, I now have the powers of Cosmic Awareness, ah, I see… It won't necessarily turn me Omniscient but simply allows me access to information to a greater whole. What else? Ahh, I definitely have to experiment with this Divine Judgement and Reality Manipulation… I cannot believe there are actually other beings out there who have powers in the same capacity as the Spectre."

"W-who are you?" John panicked, his voice an echo of self-doubt. He picked up the contract to which in the signee, an unfamiliar name was written. It read— Pandora's Actor. Then it clicked to John, he didn't see the trademark Staff that Ainz seemed to always carry with him.

Appearing from John's opposite was an egghead with no facial expression except three holes protruding from his face. He was dressed in a yellow Neo-Nazi-esque uniform. This was none other than Pandora's Actor. "Apologies, Mr. Constantine. You have been conned."

"…" John blanched as the doors opened and entering from the room was none other than the real Ainz Ooal Gown, in his grip was the familiar Staff that missed John's observation. John Constantine came to a quick understanding that to Gown, Spectre's powers were not as appealing as the freedom to do whatever Gown wanted to do.

Pandora's Actor stood up, allowing Ainz to sit on the sofa.

"I have made you wait," Ainz thumped his staff, establishing his presence over the room. "I wouldn't know about your friend, Spectre's intentions, and I wouldn't care." And then Ainz proceeded to slide a piece of paper to John.

"What's this?" John gulped, realizing that he couldn't maintain his usual streak of bravado.

"This is a contract for apprenticeship. I want you, John Constantine. Devote yourself to me, and I shall save all of humanity." Such grand words came from Ainz, and this made John frown, returning him to his sarcastic groove.

John stared at the contract in disbelief, his mind racing to make sense of the unexpected turn of events.

"You've got to be joking," John retorted, a mixture of frustration and confusion evident in his voice. "First, you pull this shapeshifting stunt, and now you want me as an apprentice? What's your game, Ainz Ooal Gown?"

Ainz, still seated on the sofa, leaned back, his skeletal fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest. "I find your skills intriguing, Mr. Constantine. The Spectre's powers may not be to my liking, but your brand of mysticism has its own appeal. I see potential in you. Join me, and together, we can reshape the world."

John scoffed, a cynical smile playing on his lips. "Reshape the world? You sound like a bloody megalomaniac. What's in it for you, Ainz?"

The undead overlord's crimson pinpoints flickered with a peculiar intensity. "I seek peace, Constantine. Let me explain it in a way that you can understand. I have a special ability, an immutable spell called Dark Wisdom. It is a magic that would allow me to learn the magic of the creature I had felled through a sacrificial ritual. What is magic exactly? That was too profound of a question, but know this, when I had sacrificed the Spectre, I had acquired its 'magic', and understand this… I now also possess the same 'Cosmic Awareness' that the Spectre once had. And that's why I have become too profoundly aware of just how vast the universe truly is. Existences like Darkseid and Trigon would be a liability for the Peace I so desperately seek."

John's eyes narrowed as he considered the latter's words. The room felt charged with an air of uncertainty, and the stakes seemed higher than ever. He took a drag from his cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke as he weighed his options.

"I don't like this," John finally responded, his tone measured. "Don't give me the 'save humanity' spiel. I've heard it all before. I don't know about the perspectives of gods. I don't know about you. But what do you need from me?"

Ainz chuckled, the sound echoing through the room like a distant storm. "Nothing."

"You are asking the wrong question, John Constantine. It is not that I have a 'need' from you, but a certain 'want', this had been the Spectre's motivations all along as to why he had dragged you to me."

John's eyes darted between Ainz and the contract on the table. The gravity of the decision weighed on him, and he couldn't shake the feeling that the path ahead was fraught with peril.

"Fine," John sighed, stubbing out his cigarette. "But let's get one thing straight. I'm no one's lackey. I'll play along for now, but the moment I smell you going against your word, I'm out. Understood?" Without hesitation, John penned his name on the contract.

This must be it. John came to realize this 'moment' must have been what the Spectre was gunning on. John recalled the Spectre's words to him. "Someone who understands the shades of gray, the intricate dance between good and evil." John needed to be that 'Someone', and no matter how black the grass was in this fence, he would die trying to make it gray.

Ainz extended his bony hand, a skeletal grin forming on his face. "Understood, Mr. Constantine. Let this be the beginning of our eternal friendship, and for the peaceful era to follow."

---

Suzuki Satoru, Momonga, and now Ainz Ooal Gown.

Ainz returned to his bedchamber and sat. He had just finished signing the contract with John Constantine. This was a necessary move on Ainz's part if he wanted to protect Nazarick…

Getting John Constantine under his thumb should be manageable as long as Ainz shows enough sincerity, but that would go a long way to prove that Ainz only wanted Peace as he had said.

After gaining Cosmic Awareness from Spectre, Ainz had become aware of just how dangerous the Universe he found himself in. After writing note after note in his notebook, Ainz then proceeded to return it to his inventory. There was so much to do, and Ainz was now in a far graver situation than he could imagine.

"Hmmm… It would have been nice if this Cosmic Awareness would just make me omniscient, but clearly, it had its limitation." Ainz pondered and decided that he should experiment with this new magic and practice with it. "This Cosmic Awareness felt like when I am using the wiki on the internet, but instead of a World Wide Web, I have a Multiverse Wide Web."

Laughing at his own pitiful joke, Ainz then proceeded to review his fight against the Spectre.

In his fight against the Spectre, Ainz was forced to use the Red Orb, allowing him to overclock his abilities, and ensuring his victory while at it. But the penalty of the Red Orb was very brutal in that it would force its user's level to decrease for five levels… and following Yggdrasil's Game Mechanics, leveling was a monstrously challenging affair.

"I might as well be in an injured state now," He mused.

Feeling a bit of melancholy, Ainz used his Guild Ring to teleport to the Treasury. There, he saw an energetic Pandora's Actor who was transformed into a Spectre. The 'Spectre' in front of Ainz was featureless and wore a yellow cape.

"Father," Pandora's Actor remarked, "What brings you to this floor!?"

Recently, Ainz had agreed for Pandora's Actor to address him as his father as long as the latter would avoid acting in strange and exaggerated ways, which even now made Ainz feel embarrassed.

"Just a visit," Ainz patted Pandora's Actor. "You did well on signing the contract. Thankfully, you are able to subvert the effects of becoming the 'Spectre' through your Doppelganger skills. But it will be wise if you keep the World Item I left you. On the basis that your 'will' might be usurped, use the World Item without hesitation."

Pandora's Actor was quiet, but then he burst into joy at Ainz's words of concern and praise. "Indeed! I shall do so~! But fret not, for I shall remain the way I am… forever! Per se, I burst with energy every day! Speaking of which, may I know the purpose for which you have come?"

"Like I said, just a visit." Ainz then left Pandora's Actor to his own, while Ainz went deeper within the Treasury. Pandora's Actor just watched, leaving his master to his own musings.

---

The heavy stone door creaked open as Ainz entered the Mausoleum. The air inside was thick with the scent of dust and memories. The dim light from the enchanted torches flickered, casting eerie shadows on the walls adorned with ancient runes. Ainz's footsteps echoed in the solemn chamber as he made his way toward the center.

As he approached, he saw the life-sized golems of his comrades standing in a solemn display. Each one donned the familiar gear they used to wear when they played together, a haunting reminder of the adventures they shared. The details were painstakingly accurate – from the intricate armor to the weapons they once wielded.

Ainz's gaze lingered on the golem of his closest friend, Touch Me. The golem stood tall, his majestic armor reflecting the dim light. Ainz couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness as he remembered the countless battles they fought side by side. "Touch Me, I hope you can still give me advice," he whispered to the silent figure.

The golems seemed frozen in time, capturing the essence of the departed players. Ainz's fingers gently traced the contours of the golem belonging to Warrior Takemikazuchi, another dear comrade. "And Takemikazuchi, I almost miss his recklessness," he murmured, a hint of melancholy in his voice.

Ainz continued through the Mausoleum, stopping in front of each golem to pay his respects. The air was heavy with the weight of nostalgia and loss. He reached the golem of a slime of sorts, and a small smile crossed his face. "Bukubukuchagama, I definitely don't miss her rather depraved comments and pranks about life," he reminisced.

As Ainz stood in the solemn silence of the Mausoleum, the memories of their adventures played like a reel in his mind. The dialogues they shared, the laughter that echoed through virtual realms, and the bonds that transcended the digital world – all encapsulated in the golems before him.

Ainz took a deep breath, his heart heavy with both sorrow and complicated gratitude. "Thank you, my friends, for the unforgettable journey we had together," he said softly, knowing that the statues around him wouldn't as much move an inch.

"My friends, what do you think about me hogging this glorious name? Will you be happy? Or displeased? Tell me if you have any feedback, tell me this name isn't mine alone. I will change back and use Momonga without hesitation."

Quiet.

Then Peace.

And then finally, acceptance.

And soon, Ainz then left the Mausoleum, not a word more from him.

 

[Alfir]

Narberal Gamma, the elegant and composed battle maid of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, found herself in an unexpected setting - the mysterious and ever-shifting House of Mystery. Clad in a sophisticated office attire that perfectly accentuated her graceful demeanor, Narberal followed closely behind the enigmatic and wily John Constantine.

'Scratch enigmatic. Pathetic was more like it.' She inwardly thought to herself.

Her usual silver battle maid uniform was replaced by a tailored black blazer that hugged her slender frame, accompanied by a crisp white blouse underneath. A knee-length pencil skirt and polished black heels completed the ensemble, giving her an air of professionalism that contrasted with her formidable combat abilities.

Despite the surreal surroundings of the House of Mystery, Narberal maintained her composed demeanor, her piercing blue eyes scanning the ever-changing corridors and rooms with an indifferent look. The soft click-clack of her heels echoed through the ethereal halls as she gracefully matched Constantine's every step.

"Impressive place," she commented nonchalantly, "For a worm, this is impressive… underserved in fact."

"Is that so? I am glad I could even impress you," Constantine clicked his tongue, evidently unappreciative of company. "Would you follow me everywhere and everywhen from now on?"

"The orders of the Supreme One are absolute," Narberal answered, her tone never shifting.

As they traversed through the House of Mystery, Narberal Gamma, and John Constantine encountered bizarre rooms and surreal landscapes that defied the laws of reality. The air was thick with otherworldly energy that seemed to warp time and space.

Constantine, with his ever-present smirk, led Narberal through the labyrinthine corridors as if he knew the place like the back of his hand. Despite the peculiar surroundings, Narberal maintained her stoic composure, her elegant attire seemingly untouched by the surreal environment.

"Ever get lost in here, Constantine?" Narberal inquired, her piercing blue eyes scanning their surroundings with analytical precision.

"Lost? Nah, love. The House has a way of takin' you where you need to be," Constantine replied, his tone nonchalant. "It's got a mind of its own, you see. This? This here is a very short tour of my place."

Narberal raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, her composed expression unchanged. "A sentient structure? Interesting. The tour, however, was passable."

Constantine chuckled, a sound that echoed through the shifting walls of the House. "You've got a lot to learn about this place, sweetheart."

As they continued their journey, they stumbled upon a… bar. This must be the destination Constantine had in mind since the beginning. Narberal had the inkling suspicion that Constantine must be buying time. But why? Narberal wasn't really curious, so she left it be.

In the bar, there was a purple woman with strange features— bald, sharp tattoos of darker shade, and dark eyes. She was dutifully cleaning goblets by the bar.

"Orchid, give me just anything, one in the rocks, and for the lady, whatever she wanted." Constantine casually leaned by the bar as he gave his orders to Orchid, the purple woman.

Constantine then addressed Narberal. "So for starters, how about an introduction? I just couldn't address you as 'maid' after all, right, sweetheart? Or do you prefer I just call you sweetheart?"

Narberal arched an eyebrow at Constantine's casual demeanor. "My name is Narberal Gamma. Titles are inconsequential in the presence of the Supreme One's will."

"Right, right. Narberal Gamma, the battle maid with a touch of class. I like it," Constantine said, a playful glint in his eyes. The barkeep, Orchid, placed a drink in front of him, and he took a sip before continuing. "My name is John Constantine, or surely you have been debriefed by your superiors of that, but anyways. Nice to meet you. Meanwhile, this Purple Lady here is Orchid, you don't mind her being here, right?"

"Greetings, a pleasure to meet you," Orchid smiled as she placed a glass of margarita on the rocks for Constantine. "For Miss Gamma, what do you like to drink?"

"The Supreme One's will is beyond my understanding. I am here to fulfill his desires," Narberal replied, her gaze fixed on the alcohol swirling in Constantine's glass. She then redirected her attention to Orchid. "I won't need anything, but thank you."

Constantine chuckled, swirling the ice in his drink. "Mysterious boss you've got. Must be a hell of a gig."

"The Supreme One is absolute," Narberal reiterated, her stoicism unwavering.

The purple-skinned Orchid, seemingly unbothered, just watched. "You two seem like quite the pair. I don't get many visitors with such... unique tastes." Her reactions were almost artificial, thus giving Narberal suspicion as to the nature of the purple woman.

Constantine leaned back against the bar, a sly grin on his face. "Unique tastes, eh? Well, darling, you haven't seen anything yet. You have been cooped up in this place for… eternity."

Narberal's piercing blue eyes studied Constantine for a moment before she spoke, "I am not here for tastes or diversions. I am here to follow and protect. You offending worm."

The worm chuckled again, taking another sip. "Fair enough. But sometimes, a bit of diversion is what you need. Keeps things interesting, you know? Still, you aren't gonna suddenly kill me, right??"

As Narberal contemplated his words, Orchid poured another round of drinks, an orange juice, and then she pushed it to Narberal. "Please, on the house." Orchid smiled.

"John Constantine, you have been acknowledged by Lord Ainz. You have been made his magic apprentice. And that alone… had made you above me in station if not equal…" Narberal stated, her tone unwavering, but there was a gleam of annoyance in her eyes.

Constantine grinned, raising his glass. "To clarify, I'd prefer just bein' equals. I wouldn't like to be above you and all… For all I care, I have better things to do…"

With a snap of his fingers, Constantine summoned a misty orb in his palms. "Narberal, you wouldn't mind me talking to the dead, don't you?" Magical incantations left Constantine's mouth, and bit by bit, magic accumulated.

"What are you doing?" Narberal's voice was thick with killing intent.

"I am going to summon the vestige of the Spectre. I have questions for him. I know Spectre did Nazarick dirty, but the same goes for me. That is why I will have my answers. Hmm… Oh shit, it looks like this is more difficult than I thought…" Constantine frowned, realizing he couldn't draw upon the vestige of the Spectre.

---

Drawing souls was considerably harder, not to mention the soul of a powerful being like the Spectre, but a vestige was different. A Vestige was a memory manifested into phenomena, basically, they were remnants of data to which John called to a temporary spectrum… And from there, John would begin his investigation, interrogation, or whatever.

This magic was possible even with the target being 'erased' from existence so it was a pretty handy trick for a detective.

John Constantine stared at the faint spectral trail left by the vestige in the dimly lit room of the House of Mystery. The air was thick with otherworldly energy, and the shifting walls seemed to pulse with a mysterious force.

"This one's a tricky bugger," John muttered to himself, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "But a vestige, eh? Should be easier to have a chat."

Narberal Gamma observed silently, her composed demeanor unwavering as John prepared to delve into the remnants of the manifested memory.

"Keep an eye out, Narberal. These things can get messy," John warned, his gaze focused on the spectral trail before him.

"Understood," Narberal replied, her piercing blue eyes scanning their surroundings with a heightened sense of alertness.

John took a deep breath, his hands hovering over the ephemeral essence of the vestige. With a low incantation and a flick of his fingers, he began the process of summoning the memory's temporary spectrum.

The room seemed to shimmer as the vestige responded to John's invocation. Flickering images and echoes of a past event materialized in the air, forming a surreal tableau of fragmented memories.

And then lo' and behold— stood Spectre, or at least the wisdom conjured from Constantine's magic.

"Now, let's have a little chat, shall we?" John addressed the ethereal manifestation, his tone a mix of confidence and curiosity.

The vestige, a spectral echo of a bygone moment, hovered before them like a ghostly apparition. It emanated a faint glow, and its form wavered with the memories it held.

Narberal observed the interaction with a watchful eye, and she couldn't be more annoyed. "What is the meaning of this, Constantine?"

"This is the Spectre. But he is dead, killed by Ainz Ooal Gown…" John answered, his voice cutting through the spectral silence. "I am doing my best here to maintain transparency for the sake of my relationship with you, Nazarick, and Gown. So I'd appreciate it if you just leave me to my own devices."

"Don't be insolent, I shan't allow you to address the Supreme One so casually." Narberal spat, her eyes narrowed to the vague image of the Spectre. "Whatever you are scheming, Constantine. Do not. Because you wouldn't like it."

John raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Scheming? Love, I'm bound by a contract with the Supreme One. No schemes here, just a little chat with the remnants of this Spectre fella."

Narberal's gaze remained stern. "Your words carry no weight. Actions speak louder than… contracts."

John chuckled, his fingers tracing patterns in the air as he continued to maintain the connection with the vestige. "Trust me, darling. I'm not one to mess with the big players. Besides, I've got my own interests in finding out what happened between the Spectre and Ainz… as to why and how I was put in this situation… because honestly, it pisses me off."

The ethereal manifestation of the Spectre seemed to flicker as if responding to John's words. The spectral echo took on a ghostly form, and its voice echoed in the room. "John Constantine, you have called upon me… no… my vestige… I take it that I have died?"

Constantine leaned back, taking a sip from his glass before responding. "Easy there, Spectre. Yes, you died. And I've got questions, and you've got answers. So, spill it."

Narberal's eyes narrowed further, her hand hovering over her summoned weapon, a familiar staff. "Choose your words wisely, Constantine."

The Spectre's luminous form shifted, expressing a mixture of anguish and sorrow. "I am sorry, John Constantine for I have put you in this situation. The path I saw in you will be a long and painful one… "

Constantine's gaze hardened. "And what path might that be?"

"A plan towards peace. Because of my inclination, I stood in Ainz's way too many times, he has struck me down too many times every time I return, and every time I rise once more," the Spectre explained, his voice carrying a haunting resonance. "More worlds as equally just perishes…"

Narberal remained stoic but alert, her focus unwavering. "Do you speak the truth, Spectre?"

"Why would I lie, battle maid? My existence is tied to the truth," the Spectre replied, its form pulsating with residual energy. "I am programmed in a way that I won't stop until wickedness is dealt with extreme prejudice. I am not a machine, but these programs do exist. I function in ways I cannot go against. This is a fact. And because of these programs, and my inability to kill Ainz, I was reduced to an inconsistency that if never resolved, time will never move forward."

Constantine glanced at Narberal before addressing the Spectre. "I'll be honest. I don't understand half of the shit you said. But let me get this straight… you have a task to kill Ainz, correct? And because you couldn't, you came to me and got yourself killed so… what? Do you expect me to kill that monster? I'd be honest, I might as well throw myself to Trigon's tender arms…"

"…" The Spectre was humanly silent at Constantine's outburst.

"Spectre! No. more. Secrets. If I have to resurrect you from the fucking Lazarus Pit, I will!" Constantine added with hate in his nostrils. "Or I swear, damn it all, I am gonna fuckin grab your throat and then drag you to the skelly's tomb, and shove you up his ass!"

Narberal was offended, and was on the verge of losing her patience, "Such blasphemous words—"

---

From far away, eyes peered through the scenery happening inside the House of Mystery. Ainz used the Message Function to contact Narberal. "Leave Constantine and the Vestige alone, Narberal… Observe with caution, and try to gain information from this vestige."

Through the Mirror of Remote Viewing enhanced by Ainz's Cosmic Awareness, Narberal could be seen remaining still for a moment… Clearly, she had heard Ainz's orders. She had actually unsummoned her weapon and reigned in her temper. This relieved Ainz a bit. "This is good… Now, let's see what the Spectre really wanted… and if Constantine was really worth it my considerations."

For some time, Ainz had been engaging in this act of voyeurism. He had peered through alternate universes, and even… alternate dimensions such as Blood Reef, 5th Dimension, Mirror World, etc.

Of course, Ainz did very little peeking as he feared he might be detected. Cosmic Awareness must be a staple ability for higher beings in this universe in that Ainz just kept on brushing with them, and most annoying of all was that there was no way for Ainz to erase his traces.

Ainz would hate it if another Spectre came knocking at his doorsteps just to get his beloved people killed… again. Thankfully, it appeared that the Spectre was a unique case, and the conversation between John Constantine and the Spectre seemed to prove it.

---

"I apologize I am not eloquent enough to express the answers I think that you want to hear." Spectre's visage actually bows in an apologetic manner. "I am not the real Spectre after all, but a shadow of his memory."

Constantine's lips twitched, and the person who came to save the day… was unexpectedly Orchid.

"Please nod if I get it right. Is this what you Spectre meant? That you'd have to fight Ainz, to kill him, because that is your sacred duty which you have to fulfill no matter what? However, every time you attempt to kill him, you fail. And instead, it is you who gets killed? As a result, you have come to decide the only solution to this is that you decide your own death?"

"But I already know that—" John complained, but Orchid shuts him off.

"Hush, darling. Your intentions exactly for Constantine was for him to broker a deal for you from the Overlord, which he had failed miserably judging by how much he complained and kept drinking his unholy beverage. Then we take it that his failings were part of your scheme in that you had foreseen it too. Whatever the deal was, it would be to your advantage. But how?"

"Yes! Yes! That's what I want to know!" Constantine was already inside the bar and was drinking directly from a bottle of suspicious liquid. "Orchid, you mad woman, you are so eloquent. The way it is now, I think the world was pretty fucked up already judging by how conniving that skeleton is. Most Metahumans would be helpless given their lack of resistance to magic. Forget Superman, the fact he could steal magic is problematic enough! Give him Shazam, and then the next thing we know, he'd be fucking unstoppable, and me having under his thumb all but proves my point!"

It was impressive that Narberal could still keep her temper in check, judging by how open Constantine was on putting mud on the name of Ainz Ooal Gown.

"Basically, that's it." Spectre confessed, nodding, "He was unstoppable. There was no stopping him. He is outside destiny's rules. Any attempt to stop him would lead to worse outcomes. I know. I have seen it. The only way to win over Death was to co-exist with it."

The tension in the room was palpable as the Spectre's revelation hung in the air. Constantine's frustration simmered beneath the surface, and Narberal maintained her watchful stance as she had heeded Ainz's orders to observe. But more than meets the eyes, there was now a sudden change in her attitude.

"You must be kidding me," Constantine deflated, his shoulders dropping down as he face-palmed.

"Spectre, I appreciate you understanding the greatness of my lord. But why involve… Constantine? What do you see from Constantine?" Narberal's voice was calm and straightforward.

The Spectre's form rippled with ghostly energy as he responded, "John Constantine possesses a not-so-unique quality— he is the best investigator there is."

"I am flattered—"

"The truth is… I would have gone to Batman if he was as knowledgeable as you to the occult."

"Fuuuck you—"

"I want you Constantine to investigate the goodness in Ainz Ooal Gown…"

Constantine scoffed, taking another sip of his drink. "I don't even know why I tagged along with you."

Narberal's eyes narrowed further, her patience unsurprisingly dwindling. "Of course, he is good! You lot wouldn't understand, but he stayed. He loved us. He is selfless. He is everything! To us. To Nazarick!"

"Whoa, chill, sweetie," Constantine's bottle was emptied, but then it exploded into small pieces of glass. He detected magic in the air, and he looked at the culprit— Narberal was scowling at him.

"Why it is that lowly mortals would think he was not good? Insolence! Your feeble minds wouldn't understand the Greatness of Lord Momon—" Before she could spill out all of the indignant emotions rumbling in her heart, she heard Ainz's voice in her head, gently chiding her.

"Enough, Narberal…. Calm your heart down. I wouldn't be going anywhere."

As sudden as her outburst, she proceeded to kneel. "Forgive me Lord Ainz."

"???"

---

John oh John Constantine? Did the universe just hate him, or was it all just bad luck?

"H-he's here all along?"

Sighing at the pain of the ass maid, John then proceeded to cast various magic to get a feel of what was exactly happening, but he couldn't get anything. The reason John had conducted his talks with the Spectre's Vestige so openly was because of the transparency demanded for his apprenticeship.

As stated in the contract, he must not lie, deceive, or hide information from Ainz Ooal Gown and his constituents.

John moved out of the bar and kneeled, copying the maid. Strangely, the picture formed was the two kneeling to Orchid. Feeling weirded and out of it, Orchid walked out of their sight… and kneeled, facing where she assumed the Overlord must be standing.

For some time since getting out of the tomb, John was very tempted to just commit suicide, escape to hell, and strike a deal with Trigon instead. Trigon was at least limited to Hell, but the Skelly Overlord as an exaggeratedly powerful mystic was obviously not limited to a single dimension.

However, the magical contract detailing the terms of his apprenticeship was very detailed and disobedience wasn't really possible for him. Why Constantine? Why even sign the contract? Well, if he didn't, John would most likely end up killed by then… John sincerely thought he would be turned either as a slave or a glorified errand boy, but no, he didn't. He became the big bad boss's apprentice instead!

After some time, Narberal then stood up.

John followed, he looked at Narberal with confusion.

At this point, the Vestige of Spectre had long vanished as the effects of the magic John was casting had ceased. It was a cause for disappointment since John could only summon an individual's Vestige once for every caster to every summoning.

"What is it, worm?" Narberal cracked her knuckles, feeling a bit punch-y at the moment.

"What happened? Where is Ainz, er… Lord Ainz?"

"The Supreme One had just left," Narberal pouted.

"What happened?" John repeated.

"I just got scolded," Narberal answered.

---

"Summoning a Vestige is an interesting concept," Ainz hummed to himself as he began scouring Planet Earth for Supernatural Creatures, or to be more exact, magic-wielding creatures through his Mirror for Remote Viewing.

It had taken him time, but Ainz had ascertained that personally strengthening himself was the best course of action if he wanted to protect Nazarick… The more important problem however was not how to get strong, but ensuring he stayed strong. Despite learning from the Spectre that he was some kind of an unstoppable force, Ainz remained humble.

Being drunk on power was never Ainz's thing.

Moreover, while personal strength was good, Ainz also hoped for his people to become stronger, most notably the Guardians. One of the reasons he had assigned Narberal to bodyguard John was so that she could learn from him—

Specs aside, Narberal was the closest to John Constantine when it came to skillset. This world had a magic system unique to its own, and it wouldn't hurt to study it.

Sebas who was waiting for Ainz for some time began to speak, "Lord Ainz, Narberal's actions must have irked you. As her superior, I feel responsible for this…"

"Enough, Sebas," Ainz said with finality. "If you want to take responsibility then don't. I have scolded her already…" Thinking that his response might be lacking, Ainz added hastily, "If you felt responsible then simply give her a light scolding, but there is no need to go so far."

"I understand," Sebas softly remarked. "I am filled with gratitude by your kindness…"

"Sebas," Ainz rubbed his chin as he watched over an interesting character— the people called this caped crusader 'Batman' as a force of justice that ruled through fear. "Call Albedo, Demiurge, and Pandora's Actor for me… I needed to discuss an opportunity for an opening project I have in mind…"

"As you will," Sebas nodded respectfully before leaving to summon the designated individuals.

---

9th Floor. The Bar.
A few hours ago…

The dimly lit room echoed with the melancholic clink of ice cubes against the glass as Albedo sat alone at the worn-out bar, nursing her sorrows in a sea of liquor. The amber liquid swirled in the tall glass, mirroring the turmoil within her troubled mind.

The bartender, a mushroom man with a sympathetic gaze, approached and asked, "Rough day, huh?" Clavu easily known as Sous Chef had seen a lot of customers in his bar, and while Demiurge who was sitting beside Albedo was a casual customer, Albedo was not.

Albedo sighed deeply, her voice heavy with the weight of her emotions, "You could say that. Life has a way of mixing paints I never intended to use."

The bartender poured another shot and slid it across the counter, saying, "Sometimes, the only palette we have is the one life gives us."

Albedo offered a half-smile, acknowledging the truth in his words, and took a sip, letting the bitterness of the alcohol temporarily drown out the bitterness in her heart. She seemed to want to say something, but she hesitated and simply drank more.

Besides her was an unusual Demiurge whose face would transform into different expressions from anger, contemplation, disgust, and self-reproach as if he were a Kabuki Theater performer.

"What's the problem, Lord Demiurge?" Sous Chef asked.

Demiurge shifted uncomfortably on his barstool, his expression momentarily settling on contemplation. "Ah, Clavu, my dear friend, the intricacies of life weave a tapestry of complexities that even my intellect struggles to decipher. How can I make it up to Lord Ainz after my debacle? To be killed so mercilessly without any resistance and so helplessly has made me realize how incompetent I am! I cannot let this be!"

Sous Chef chuckled, his mushroom cap nodding in understanding. "Sounds like you've had quite the day too. Want more drinks, or are you here to… I don't know… pass up time?"

Demiurge waved a dismissive hand. "I am not here for the alcohol, my friend. I find solace in observing the human—or in this case, non-human—condition." But nonetheless, he continued sipping from his own glass of wine.

Albedo glanced sideways at Demiurge, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Solace or amusement, Demiurge? I can never quite tell with you. I do know however that misery loves company."

The two clinked their glasses.

But then, a new presence expressed itself in the bar, "Hello~! I'd like an orange juice please!" It was Pandora's Actor in his familiar Neo-Nazi uniform. "Oh, if it isn't the two screw-ups," He leered at Albedo and Demiurge in a bullying way.

Albedo's eyes flashed with annoyance at Pandora's Actor's taunts. She took a deep breath, suppressing her frustration, and turned to face the shape-shifting creation of Ainz Ooal Gown.

"Mind your tongue, Pandora's Actor. Your presence is hardly a beacon of comfort," Albedo retorted, her voice icy.

Demiurge, ever composed, observed the exchange with a hint of amusement. "Ah, Pandora's Actor, the embodiment of theatricality. What brings you to this humble gathering of troubled souls?"

Pandora's Actor chuckled, ordering his orange juice with a mischievous grin. "I heard there was a pity party going on. Thought I'd join in and spice things up a bit." He flashed his Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown on his finger, clearly boasting about it.

This caused Albedo to flash a look of irritation. The ring was an item that would allow individual access to every floor of Nazarick, and to possess it meant that the Supreme One had given his confidence and trust to those who had received it.

Albedor recalled Sebas actually having earned one, and then... Mare too...

Sous Chef, always the calm mediator, served the requested orange juice and tried to diffuse the tension. "Let's keep it civil, everyone. We're all here for different reasons, but that doesn't mean we can't enjoy each other's company."

Albedo shot a disdainful look at Pandora's Actor. "Enjoyment might be a stretch, but I suppose... company is company."

Demiurge, ever the tactician, redirected the conversation. "Speaking of company, Albedo, have you considered what steps we should take now that we've failed our lordship? If only we could kill the Spectre as a form of penance, but that wouldn't do since that miserable creature had been dealt with already. "

Albedo sighed, the weight of her failures pressing on her. "I am well aware, Demiurge. Rebuilding trust, especially with our lordship is a delicate task, but one I am determined to undertake. Still… Damn it… Unfortunately, I couldn't think of any." Her face transformed into a murderous scowl.

Demiurge sighed, "I am the same. I couldn't think of any! Maybe we could conquer a city or two from the outside and gift it to Lord Ainz, but that's just unreasonable considering how we got ourselves…" He gritted his teeth, clearly reluctant to admit it. "killed… and if the 'Spectre' is not a coincidence, then it is only logical to think that there will be another existence out there as strong as the Spectre."

Pandora's Actor interjected, "Rebuilding trust? Well, well. Seems like the Floor Guardians are having a tough time. Maybe you should take a leaf out of my book and embrace… chaos. It's much more entertaining. At least you are going to enjoy it."

Albedo shot him a withering glare. "You are not fooling anyone, Pandora. Of the Guardians, you are among the most intellectual… state your intentions for coming to us."

Demiurge, sensing the rising tension, raised his glass in a mock toast. "To Pandora's intellect, then. May you guide these two poor souls through the labyrinth of life, and rescue them from the mire known as depression."

Pandora's Actor couldn't smile given his biological make-up, so he laughed to express his emotions. "I am glad you asked. I'd happily conspire with you friends. Now, first, let's discuss… Call it a brainstorming session… First question, why is it that Lord Ainz had gone to great lengths to recruit… John Constantine… going even so far as to use a magic contract of the highest quality, and what else? Ah, to actually make this John Constantine as his magic apprentice of all things…"

The bar was now filled with an air of tension as Pandora's Actor's question hung in the dimly lit atmosphere. Albedo and Demiurge exchanged puzzled glances, momentarily setting aside their personal grievances to ponder the peculiar recruitment of John Constantine by Lord Ainz.

Albedo's brow furrowed in thought. "John Constantine, the human magician? I never quite understood the Supreme One's fascination with him. What could a mere mortal offer that the denizens of Nazarick couldn't?"

Demiurge leaned back, contemplating the question with his fingers steepled. "Indeed, Albedo. Lord Ainz's decisions often have a depth beyond our immediate comprehension. Perhaps Constantine possesses knowledge or abilities that could be advantageous in unforeseen situations. This human is the one with Spectre, correct?"

"Yes, that one," Pandora's Actor grinned mischievously, yet his face remained unmoved, as he swirled his orange juice. "Oh, you two are catching on. Lord Ainz, in his infinite wisdom, surely has a grand plan."

Sous Chef, ever the observant barman, couldn't resist joining the discussion. "A magic apprentice, though? That's quite an investment. Lord Ainz doesn't do things without reason. Maybe Constantine has a role to play in the broader scheme of things."

Albedo took a sip of her drink, the bitterness of the alcohol now blending with the bitterness of uncertainty. "If only we had more information. It's frustrating not knowing the full extent of our Supreme One's intentions."

Demiurge, always eager to strategize, leaned forward. "Rather than fascination as Albedo suggested, maybe it is more of an interest… A pet? Unlikely. Hmmm… An experiment, it could be."

Pandora's Actor chuckled, tapping his glass with a finger. "Lord Ainz had paired Constantine with Narberal in an attempt for Narberal to grow, and integrate the magic system of this other world… but surely, there is more to this than just that… I believe we are soon to be called upon by the Supreme One."

And as if it was a prophecy fulfilled, they were then called upon as quickly… Sebas appeared before them, "The Supreme Being requires your presence, Albedo, Demiurge, and Pandora's Actor."

---

As the servants assembled before Ainz, he gestured for them to take a seat in the grandiose meeting room of Nazarick. Albedo, Demiurge, and Pandora's Actor acknowledged their master with a bow.

"Thank you for gathering promptly," Ainz began, his skeletal visage betraying no emotion. "I've called you all here to discuss a… new project, an opportunity that could significantly enhance our strength and influence."

Albedo, the Overseer of the Guardians, spoke first, her voice resonating with loyalty. "Lord Ainz, we are at your command. What is this project you speak of?"

Ainz leaned forward, his crimson eyes gleaming. "Information is the basis of warfare. I want the three of you to comprehensively create plans as to how we can protect Nazarick… Come back to me as soon as possible."

Demiurge, ever the strategist, interjected, "Lord Ainz, could you please elaborate on the specific aspects you wish to incorporate into this new plan? Understanding the intricacies will allow us to execute your vision more effectively."

Pandora's Actor seconded in agreement with Demiurge's sentiment. "It would be of Nazarick's interest if Lord Ainz would kindly set up parameters for our missions…"

Ainz steepled his bony fingers, considering his words. "If you don't mind, I have a suggestion, however, you are free to discredit it, and offer alternative options. I believe beginning with Gotham City for investigation is an interesting proposition. Feel free to consult Pandora's Actor for he too had access to the special skill, Cosmic Awareness. As for parameters, you are free to use every resource available to Nazarick."

Albedo nodded, her long, flowing hair swaying with the motion. "Understood, Lord Ainz. We shall commence our planning immediately and make efficient use of our resources."

Demiurge inclined his head, his sharp intellect already at work. "Gotham City shall be a fascinating starting point. I shall coordinate with Pandora's Actor to gather information efficiently. We will ensure that Nazarick's interests are well protected."

Pandora's Actor spoke with a bow. "I shall lend my skills to the investigation."

Ainz acknowledged their commitment with a slight nod. "Good. I trust that you will handle this matter with the utmost care and diligence. The protection of Nazarick is our top priority."

As the three Guardians left the meeting room, their minds already buzzing with strategies, Ainz remained seated, contemplating the potential outcomes of this new endeavor. The shadows within the grand chamber seemed to dance with his thoughts, and the air resonated with the weight of the decisions made.

---

A random question. Where did Shalltear go? Won't she be as equally drunk in depression as Albedo and Demiurge? The thing was… Aura was keeping her occupied.

"You want me to represent us three, you Aura, and Mare to team up?" Shalltear asked in a ridiculous tone as if she had heard the funniest joke in her life. "And what? To give this proposal to Lord Ainz?"

In Shalltear's hand was a set of documents that Aura and Mare had gathered together.

"Why not just let Mare present this to Lord Ainz since it was his idea to begin with?" Shalltear scowls at Mare, her mug was not so pretty when angry.

"Hey," Aura protectively defended Mare. "Go easy on my brother, he isn't big on self-confidence. And we are doing this to help you, you idiot! When you died, I thought it was the end for you and I lost it, but here… is an opportunity."

Aura was not done yet as she brutally scolded Shalltear, "You are alive now, which is good, but for Lord Ainz? I wouldn't think so. As a Guardian, aren't you a failure considering how you died so pathetically in front of Lord Ainz? I want to give an extra emphasis, so hear me, DIED SO PATHETICALLY IN FRONT OF LORD AINZ?"

"But Albedo and Demiurge died first before—" Shalltear weakly argued.

To which, Aura mercilessly cut her off, "And I am sure the two are working hard to redeem themselves. Listen here. Mare has worked hard building walls of dirt around Nazarick to hide it as per Lord Ainz's orders, but on top of that, Lord Ainz had vocally expressed that if we have ideas we want to pinch in, we are free to do so. Mare had an idea, and I think it is the best shot you'd get as any. Do you understand?"

Shalltear sighed, her frustration evident in her crimson eyes as she reluctantly took the documents from Shalltear's hand. "Fine, fine. I'll play along. But this better not be some elaborate prank," she grumbled, flipping through the pages with a disinterested expression.

The proposal plan read— Moon Relocation Plan.

Aura shot Shalltear a triumphant look, while Mare stood quietly, his eyes fixed on the floor. "Look, Shalltear, we know you're strong, and we're not trying to belittle you. It's just that Mare came up with a plan, and we think it could benefit everyone in Nazarick," Aura explained, attempting to soften her earlier harshness.

Shalltear raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity breaking through her tough exterior. "Benefit everyone, you say? I doubt it's anything groundbreaking," she remarked, though a flicker of interest betrayed her initial skepticism.

Mare finally spoke up, his voice quiet but determined. "It's about fortifying our defenses further and creating a more secure environment for Nazarick. Lord Ainz values our input, and this proposal could showcase our dedication to his vision."

Shalltear, although still skeptical, couldn't ignore the earnestness in Mare's words. "Fine, I'll go along with it, but only because I'm curious. And if this fails, it's on you, Mare," she warned, giving him a pointed glare.

Aura smirked, pleased with the progress. "Great! We'll make a formidable team. Just trust us, Shalltear, and you might see a positive change in Lord Ainz's eyes."

As the trio prepared to approach Lord Ainz with their proposal, the tension lingered in the air.

Shalltear couldn't shake off the memory of her previous defeat, but the determination in her comrades' eyes fueled a spark of hope.

Little did they know, this collaboration would lead to unexpected developments within the dark halls of Nazarick. Let's just say Shalltear and Aura would grow closer as sisters very early and this would lead to Nazarick's growth so much further.

---

John Constantine groaned as he slowly opened his eyes, squinting against the piercing light that seemed to stab through his skull. The throbbing pain in his head made it clear that the previous night had been one of excessive indulgence. He tried to sit up, only to be met with a sharp kick to the gut.

Narberal, the imposing figure standing over him, wore a look of irritation on her face. "You're a disgrace, Constantine. I expected more from someone who claims to deal with the supernatural," she spat, delivering another swift kick.

John winced and managed to prop himself up on his elbows. "Bloody hell, woman! What's got your knickers in a twist?"

Narberal crossed her arms, her expression stern. "You were supposed to acquire your tuition for your apprenticeship to Lord Ainz. Instead, you drowned yourself in alcohol and left yourself this vulnerable. Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused me? By now, I should be in Nazarick,s erving lord Ainz."

Constantine rubbed his temples, attempting to piece together the fragments of the previous night. "Oh, right. The fuckin' tuition fee. Guess I got a bit carried away. My bad."

Narberal's eyes narrowed, and she raised her foot again, but this time Constantine caught it with his hand. "Alright, alright, I get it! No need for the beating. Just give me a moment to clear my head."

She put more force on her foot, kicking John right in his face. For the better of it, Narberal remained unconvinced whether there was worth to the human trash in front of her. "You better get your act together, Constantine. We can't afford to babysit you every time you decide to drown yourself in a bottle. You are now the apprentice of Ainz Ooal Gown, carry yourself like one."

With a begrudging nod, John staggered to his feet, leaning against a nearby wall for support. "Yeah, yeah. Lesson learned. Now, I am gonna be going and get me' self my tuition?"

Narberal sighed, her frustration apparent. "We'll discuss your incompetence and the missions as it is once you prove you're in a state to contribute. Don't make my mission more annoying as it is."

Constantine chuckled weakly, "You've got a point there, love… but please, no more kicking. Bloody hell, I need a drink." When Narberal gave him the so-threatening glare, he decided once in a long time to shut his sassy mouth.

The Spectre had plans, Ainz have plans, the trio Albedo, Demiurge, and Pandora will have plans, Shalltear with the twins are having plans... Thus the title: Plan, Plans, and More Plans. Currently, I am choosing which I'd do first. Continue the John Constantine perspective or I'd immediately start with Gotham, Nazarick's soon-to-be earliest project.

Click to shrink...

 

[Alfir]

Outside of the House of Mystery, under a hidden dungeon in London, a clandestine demon summoning was being performed. He'd love to do it inside the House of Mystery, but Orchid strongly protested against it since she didn't want any demons walking around her insides!

Unbelievable! Or so John would like to complain…

John Constantine took a cigarette from the pack, deftly lighting it with a practiced flick of his lighter. He just loved his smoke. He leaned against the worn-out table cluttered with ancient tomes and arcane artifacts, waiting for the demon-summoning spell to take effect.

The air grew thick with an otherworldly tension as he recited the incantations under his breath, and John had this… bored look in his eyes. This was low even for him, but for what he was doing, he'd only end up gaining more infamy among the demons so it wasn't so bad.

"Obscurum noctis, porta ad infernum aperiatur~"

As the last words left his lips, a sudden burst of smoke materialized into the form of a small imp. Its fiery eyes glowed with a mischievous energy as it surveyed its surroundings. John raised an eyebrow, glancing at the imp and then turning to Narberal, a no-nonsense supernatural being he had always thought a pain in the ass.

"Well, Narberal, what do you reckon?" John asked, taking a casual drag from his cigarette.

Narberal, a tall and imposing figure with a disdainful expression, sighed deeply. "This makes it the 21st time you've summoned an imp. I'm starting to question whether you are… playing me or that the Supreme Being saw wrongly in you."

John smirked, unfazed by Narberal's dissatisfaction. "Hey, is it okay if you imply your boss is incompetent?"

"Blasphemy!" Narberal crossed her arms, her impatience was evident. "For your tuition fee, you need to sacrifice a creature worth at least 90 levels in sum total, with a minimum of level 30 for each individual being. This imp barely scratches the surface. And no, the Supreme One is not incompetent, I merely am lacking in understanding his deeper intentions."

These were now only a few things that John enjoyed, bullying Narberal with wordplay and sophistry, but he couldn't push too much since disrespect to Ainz really, as in really, grate in Narberal's ears… and she was this millimeter close to just offing John.

John nonchalantly blew out a puff of smoke, glancing at the imp who was now inspecting a dusty old tome. "Details, details. We'll get there... Just need a bit more time… and luck… Ever tried fishing? This is something like that."

"Get to work," Narberal rolled her eyes, her patience was wearing thin. As the imp gleefully knocked over a stack of ancient scrolls, Narberal added with disgust. "See, this imp couldn't even know what is left from right… truly a pathetic creature, reminds me of human toddlers, messy and dumb."

"Hey," John clicked his tongue, "Don't go too far, poor imp must be a newborn from hell to be this confused…"

Narberal's disappointment deepened, and she couldn't help but entertain the idea of ending John's constant antics right then and there. Her hand twitched, tempted to summon her staff, and maybe bash John's head with it.

But she reined her impulses in, and instead cast her Third Tier Spell, "Lightning," a bolt of lightning shot out from her fingers and struck the imp, killing it in one blow.

"If you don't get it right soon, John, I might be very tempted to cut this business very short," Narberal warned, her tone carrying a hint of menace.

John chuckled, taking another drag from his cigarette. "Don't worry, love. I've got a knack for turning things around. Just give me one more shot and a couple more, and we'll have that 90 levels in the bag. Though you have to teach me more about this Level System as I am unfamiliar with them."

"Then make it quick," Narberal huffed as she sat on a comfy sofa.

"Obscurum noctis, porta ad infernum aperiatur~" John obediently performed another summoning, praying that there was a demon dumb enough to answer his summoning…

As the final syllable escaped John's lips, a spectral glow emanated from the floor, revealing an intricate magic circle. The circle, drawn in an otherworldly blue and red light, glowed with pulsating runes that seemed to writhe and shift. Intricately detailed symbols representing the infernal realms adorned the edges, shimmering with an ethereal luminescence.

Narberal, observing with a critical eye, couldn't help but acknowledge that this time— it would be different. She watched as the magic circle pulsed and vibrated, responding to the supernatural forces John was channeling.

John, leaning against the cluttered table, grinned confidently. "See? I am getting the hang of this. Now, let's see if we can aim a bit higher this time." And with a burst of his magic, he had then summoned forth—

From the depths emerged a menacing figure, clad in demonic scales and wreathed in sulfurous flames. Furcifer, a formidable demon with sharp horns and a malevolent aura, stepped forth, eyeing the room with a predatory gaze. "I am Furcifer! Oh, John Constantine, I shall—" The demon glanced at Narberal, and then looked at John with hate. "I shall have my revenge!"

The demon, Furcifer was a shapeshifting demon and as if to prove this, it transformed into Narberal's shape, copying her contours and office clothes. The office attire, altered in a way that would provoke arousal and violence— from the grin and the gleam of murder in her eyes, this Narberal appeared to be the more depraved version of her.

"Disgusting," Narberal frowned, ultimately displeased by the demon.

In an instant, ethereal chains materialized, wrapping around Furcifer's form. It was John's magic at work. "Furcifer? I don't even remember you, maybe you got the wrong Constantine, welp, that's too bad for you…"

The demon roared, struggling against the unseen restraints, but John's control over the Demon Seal held firm. The magical chains glowed with an intense energy, binding Furcifer and preventing him from unleashing his infernal wrath.

Narberal's disdain shifted to a raised eyebrow, a flicker of surprise crossing her features. "Impressive, John. Perhaps there's still hope for you." Narberal had summoned herself a sword from her inventory, and with swift slashes, she had proceeded to dismember the demon's limbs.

Quickly, Furcifer transformed into a state of unshape and returned to that of a faceless demon with horns and scales. "AAargh! How dare you!?"

John puffed on his cigarette, the smoke curling around his confident smile. "Told you, love. I can do it. This is better than us running around and kidnapping mystics. Just wondering, your sword seemed nice… It could amputate even demons… Poor Furcifer here couldn't even retaliate."

Furcifer, now contained within the mystical restraints, glared at John with a mix of hatred and begrudging acknowledgment. "You dare bind me, mortal? What is it that you seek? For I Furcifer, shall grant you your wish!"

"This is satisfactory. According to my Mana Essence, this creature here qualifies as a Level 48 in Mana Values alone. Another successful summoning and we are done here…" Narberal then proceeded to trap the Demon in a Devil-trapping Bowl she had summoned from her inventory space.

Nazarick had never lacked items of all kinds.

"KryaaagH!" Furcifer cried in fury as he was forced into the bowl.

"Nice trinket, is that an Incantation Bowl? Yours look a tier above what the Iran exorcists use…" John stood up, cracked his neck, and then proceeded to do more summoning. "This is going to be a long night…" He sighed as he watched another imp get summoned from his magic circle.

It was as if he was playing a gacha game, and depending on the pull he got, he'd either be lucky or unlucky… "Ah, damn imps, they just keep coming…"

---

Meanwhile, on the far secret ends of civilization, hidden within an unnamed forest somewhere in America, a hill had suddenly sprouted from nowhere— this was the Tomb of Nazarick, disguised not just by dirt but also by layers upon layers of illusion magic.

Sat on the throne was Ainz Ooal Gown, and beside him was his Golden Staff idly levitating. "Is that so?"

"Yes, Lord Ainz," answered Narberal from the other end. "John Constantine had accomplished gathering his tuition fee for his apprenticeship to yours, truly…"

GM Call, Message Function, and Message Spell… They were all different in nature, but all the same in essence. Since coming to this reality, a lot of things have changed. The preferable term would be 'mutate' as spells, skills, and even items had become more precise in effect and existence.

The fact alone that Suzuki Satoru and Momonga had become one in spirit and meaning was already a great indication of the mutation that went beyond cosmic causality.

Most likely, levels had become meaningless and the only information that was once static had become dynamic.

"That's good. I order you Narberal to return at once with Constantine. I'd like to very much receive his tuition… and so that we could begin our lessons as per master and apprentice." Ainz wouldn't know shit about teaching magic, and it sucked to be John, but Ainz planned to exploit the human mystic as much as he could.

But why the apprentice and master contract? It was a form of failsafe, and in part, was Ainz's casuistry at work.

"Understood, My Lord," replied Narberal as the mental connection was reduced to null.

"Forgive me," Ainz apologized, "Narberal had to report something rather quickly, so I am sorry if I made you wait."

In front of Ainz were three of his guardians, prostrating before him— Shalltear, Aura, and Mare.

"Don't worry, Lord Ainz, we can wait!" Aura replied.

"It was us who was imposing on you, Lord Ainz, we are sorry for taking up your time." Shalltear quickly supplemented.

"Thank you, Lord Ainz," Mare as usual was filled with gratitude. "Uu-um… We'd like to propose a project. We ask of your patience…"

Hmmm… Ainz pondered on Mare's words. This was a first. And Ainz had free will to thank for… It warmed his heart, but a new fear began to sprout at the back of his mind like the possibility of betrayal. The NPCs of Nazarick were in a word a 'reflection' of his guildmates. Ainz couldn't say that his friends had negative opinions of him which might have influenced the NPCs without his knowing.

Ainz knew he was being paranoid so he immediately squashed his rather creative delusions with the extra kick of his Emotional Inhibitors in turn, he had decided to hear them. "First, rise…"

The Guardians rose from their kneeling.

"Tell me," Ainz assumed the persona of a leader with authority and control… It was only role-playing, but he was getting the feel of it. "What is this project you have in mind?"

As the leader and pillar of Nazarick, he couldn't find the heart to fail the NPCs. So Ainz would willingly sacrifice a limb or two just only to maintain his act, hoping to never be found out and destroy the NPCs' expectations of him… he didn't want to be seen as an infallible and omnipotent leader.

Ainz would be fine just being seen as a reliable and trustworthy superior like he used to be in his youth when he just began as a salaryman and idolized his seniors!

Shalltear stepped forward, summoning a stack of paper from her inventory, "Please take a look at this, Lord Ainz…"

Walking down from his throne, Ainz proceeded to take the stapled stack of paper, and its front page read— Moon Relocation Plan. Ainz read the proposal, and it was written in a way that the reader would immediately understand the intentions of the proponents.

Ainz recalled a certain trio who had already come to him thrice— Pandora's Actor, Demiurge, and Albedo… And every time, Ainz asked them to revise, summarize, and rewrite their project proposal into a more digestible format, they would only come back with more stacks of paper! Those three were going crazy! The first time, they sent him two handfuls stack of paper. The second time, they sent him three handfuls stack of paper. And in the third time, they sent him a crate! IT WAS A CRATE OF PAPER!

The Emotional Inhibitors kicked in again as Ainz recalled the unpleasant memory. Ainz mentally sighed.

"Is there a problem, My Lord?" Shalltear fearfully asked, her mind whirling into chaos as she had feared, their project proposal might have offended their lordship.

"No," Ainz answered, "Let me take a look at this…"

The next five minutes had been excruciating for Shalltear, Aura, and Mare. They heard the flipping of pages and every time Ainz would move to another page, Shalltear could not help but feel tense.

Ainz hummed, reading every page with care… The good thing was, he could understand them and connect their meanings altogether.

Again, Ainz recalled a certain trio whose brilliance was being overshadowed by their overthinking. In a flight of fancy, Ainz attempted to read a page from the other trio's project proposal only to end up questioning life and being befuddled by his own befuddlement. There were so many jargons, and annotations… and it hurts to the eyes! And Ainz was an undead who no longer had eyes.

But Shalltear's team? Their project proposal was pleasing to the eyes. "This is good," he commented, earning sighs of relief from Shalltear's team. Aura in particular smiled, while Mare rejoiced, hugging Shalltear while at it.

The contents of the Moon Relocation Plan were fairly simple… It was to transfer inexhaustible resources like the naturally spawning monsters AKA POPs from Nazarick to the moon, and then create a forward base there.

With a thought, Ainz relied on his Cosmic Awareness to check on the moon. He knew the 'moon' was a sensitive topic as through his cosmic wiki, he had learned all sorts of incidents could happen there… and that if he wished to make use of it, he must be careful. For example, what if a cosmic entity came knocking on his door… again, say Eclipso or maybe just some unknown alien monster?

After a good search and verifying in his cosmic Wikipedia in his skull, he found out that the moon of this Earth was relatively clean and had been barely touched… which was good.

So in the end, Ainz decided to risk it.

"I accept this proposal, but changes had to be made." Ainz had decided to support Shalltear's team with everything he got… That was how good the project proposal was.

"Thank you, Lord Ainz," Shalltear said with gratitude, her relief evident in her voice.

Aura nodded eagerly. "We're ready to make any adjustments you deem necessary, Lord Ainz."

Ainz nodded in acknowledgment. "Firstly, we need to consider the logistics of such a venture. Transporting resources to the moon is no small feat. We must ensure we have the means to do so efficiently, safely, and covertly. The suggestion to use the Gate spell has been acknowledged, but may I suggest the use of anti-information scrying scrolls and the like… We cannot be too careful. Moreover, include also Mercenary NPCs in the plan. Make use of resources available, and don't hold back with the expenses…"

Shalltear and her team listened intently, eager to absorb any guidance Ainz offered.

"Secondly," Ainz continued, "we need to establish clear objectives for this forward base on the moon. What purpose will it serve? How will it benefit Nazarick? I'd like for you to coordinate with Albedo and Demiurge for the matter."

Aura raised her hand tentatively. "Lord Ainz, may I suggest that the forward base could serve as a strategic outpost for expanding our influence beyond the boundaries of the forest?"

Ainz nodded in approval. "An excellent idea, Aura. We must think long-term and consider how this relocation can enhance Nazarick's power and reach. However, at the current juncture, I would prefer anonymity and secrecy."

Shalltear stepped forward, a spark of determination in her eyes. "Lord Ainz, we will revise the proposal accordingly and ensure that every detail is meticulously planned."

Ainz smiled faintly, a sense of pride swelling within him. "I have full confidence in your abilities, Shalltear. Your team has demonstrated exceptional initiative and ingenuity. I understand that you have been the Lead Proponent for this project, so if you wish for a reward, then you may do so… Ask away."

"My Lord," Shalltear was teary-eyed… and blushing? She was exhilarated to an exaggerated sense, and this forebodes ill for Ainz. "Anything, My Lord?" Shalltear asked.

"If it is within my abilities, then I would," Ainz replied, keen on rewarding his subordinates when he could. But then, Aura kicked Shalltear in the back of her knee causing her to wake from her stupor.

Shalletear glared at Aura but then took it upon herself to be the… mature one just this time. "I apologize, Lord Ainz," she sighed, "I would love to take credit for this, but this was all Mare's idea. The only reason I have been made Lead Proponent was because it was me who coordinated our ideas, and had led the conversations…"

Mare supplemented, "I digress, Lord Ainz, Shalltear had been a crucial element in making the project more feasible… she suggested the use of Gate Spell, how to securely enact a logistics' train covertly and efficiently… and she…"

"S-shut up," Shalltear shyly remarked, but her voice was aggressively defensive. "T-thank you, Mare… I hope Aura is more like you… but I can handle myself!"

"Don't be like that, Mare, don't give her too much credit," Aura clicked her tongue, annoyed, "This vampire must be really getting it over her head, huh?" She jokingly remarked, but that must have hit a sore spot given Shalltear's reaction.

"Hey you," Shalltear called out to Aura, "It was your idea to get me involved, okay? You are the one who is getting over her head! You are annoying, okay?"

At the sight of the three's bantering, Ainz couldn't help but recall Peroroncino and Bukubukuchagama who had been Ainz's guildmates and close friends… Shalltear was Peroroncino's creation and like her own creator, Shalltear could be very tsundere and at the same time had a tendency to engage in sibling arguments a lot just like how Peroroncino and Bukubukuchagama would argue too.

Ainz just watched them, and then he laughed… It was a joyful laugh, like how a grandfather would to his grandchildren. The trio stopped bickering, thinking that Ainz must have been angered by them.

"D-did we do something wrong, Lord Ainz?" Mare.

"Apologies, Lord Ainz! It was all Shalltear's fault!" Aura.

"Eh? N-no… I beg for forgiveness, Lord Ainz…" Shalltear.

"It's alright, my dear Guardians," Ainz said, his laughter subsiding into a warm smile as his Emotional Inhibitors kicked in. "There's no need to worry. In fact, seeing the camaraderie among you brings me joy. It reminds me a lot… of happy memories."

Shalltear, Aura, and Mare exchanged glances, their previous tension easing at their master's reassurance.

"Thank you, Lord Ainz," Shalltear said, her tone softer now, devoid of the earlier defensiveness.

Aura nodded in agreement. "We appreciate your understanding, Lord Ainz. We'll strive to work together harmoniously."

Mare chimed in, his voice filled with sincerity. "Yes, Lord Ainz. We value the unity of Nazarick above all else."

Ainz nodded in approval, his gaze shifting from one Guardian to another. "Indeed, unity is our greatest strength. Let us continue to support one another as we embark on this… new endeavor. I trust in all of you, so you can trust in me too. Even in the face of failure, I shall have your back and prop you."

"Yes, Lord Ainz!" replied the trio.

---

"So where to now?" John disabled the demon-summoning magic circle and asked Narberal what was next. It took some time, but John finally finished.

Summoning demons and having Narberal collect them sounded easy, but it wasn't easy. It involved luck and effort… Damn imps just kept being summoned!

"We return to Nazarick," Narberal stood up and gestured for John to get going. "Use your teleportation magic. It would be easier that way."

"Why? Does the powerful Narberal cannot teleport? It is funny cuz you keep on looking down on me… That isn't nice," John teased her as he took a cig and tried to light it with his lighter, but the lighter wouldn't just work. "Tsk, why don't you?"

Noticing Narberal's light almost unnoticeable smirk, John realized the maid was playing with him. "What did you do? This isn't funny… I need my smoke…"

"Then don't do that, you don't get to measure me like what you are doing now," Narberal eased down.

And finally came the small ember from John's lighter, he lit his cig and finally got to smoke again for the nth time. John looked around. There were few opportunities he'd get to stay in this hidden dungeon under London, and he'd love to never come back again.

"Let's go," John used his incantation-less magic, and within a blink of an eye, they teleported.

---

Narberal blinked, and when she came to, she and John were already in a forest.

It was fascinating just seeing how John's magic worked, but Narberal wouldn't admit it for she was too prideful. There were a lot of preparations involved, symbolism, and rituals… However, unlike the magic of Yggdrasil, John's magic was borrowed and was not a power of his own… The concept of mana was in fact foreign to John.

Before John could actually perform magic, he had to sit by his lonesome self in his room within the protections of the House of Mystery, perform rituals, and create charms beforehand. By level values alone, John was weak. But with his magical means and wit, he was able to become more.

This must be what his master had seen in John. But Narberal could not be more wrong... It was that when Ainz first saw John, he was amazed by John's inherent and raw Mana Values... It was a curiosity to Ainz, since John by player standards should be a seeded character yet had weak stats in actuality.

"There is something wrong," Narberal realized as her eyes landed on the kind of trees that surrounded them. She was no tree expert but she knew she was in a different forest. "Where did you bring us, John?"

"Hmmm…" John looked around and inserted his hand inside his coat in preparation for whatever it was that had sent them here. "Someone intersected my teleportation and diverted us here, stay on your toes, Nabe…"

"Since when did you decide a nickname for me, you mongrel…" Narberal heeded his words and had secretly cast 'Detect Life' and 'Message' to connect with her Lord Ainz. "Lord Ainz, we have been ambushed… asking for instructions."

Came the quick reply, "Be alert. Use the Gate Magic Scroll I gave you if push comes to shove. I permit you to use Gate directly to the Throne of Kings. For now, stand by, as the mission parameters will stay the same. If your life is put in danger, retreat."

"Understood, Lord Ainz," And just like that, Narberal proceeded with her duties, "Lightning," she pointed at one area— a bolt of lightning shot out from Narberal's fingers.

John was spooked when Narberal suddenly made her move.

The lightning met with a translucent barrier. Because of the collision of magic, the caster responsible for this ambush was forced to reveal herself. A woman with dark hair, a niche top hat, a twin-tailed suit, and carried a wand in one hand... had suddenly appeared before them out of thin air.

"Zatanna!" John cried, "What the hell!?"

"John, I see that you have quickly returned to your galvanizing ways," Zatanna said with a smirk, her wand still at the ready. "Or is this a rebound which I must say is unfairly unpleasant…"

John stepped forward, his expression hardened. "What is the meaning of this, Zee? It is unusual for you to do this… intercepting my spell, and bringing me here? Where even are we? What's got into you?"

Zatanna's smirk widened. "Let's just say you annoy me."

Narberal, keeping her guard up, interjected, "I have no intention of interfering with your affairs, whoever this woman is, is your business, John. But it would be to my pleasure if we can just move on our way…"

"That's not how my teleportation magic works, Nabe," John clicked his tongue, "I would need preparations… and it has been tampered with by hers truly, Zatanna Zatara. I wouldn't be able to use it anymore unless I redo the ritual that allowed me teleportation."

Zatanna's gaze flickered between Narberal and John, her wand still pointed at them. "Oh, I see that you have a fucked-up sense of humor, as usual, John… This Nabe sure got the aesthetics, and also the clothes but minus the top hat. And she is a mystic too… Great…"

John's eyes narrowed. "That's all a coincidence, please! And it is not even my idea about the break-up, so please don't go woozy-ouchy-touchy on me, darling… I don't have all day…"

Zatanna chuckled softly. "I am worried for you, John…" She grimaced and lowered her wand. "I was… scared for you! You imbecile! I saw you died!"

Narberal watched the exchange between John and Zatanna with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. It was clear there was a history between them, one that involved emotions far deeper than mere annoyance.

John, for his part, seemed both frustrated and guarded. "Look, Zee, I appreciate the concern, but I'm fine. And I didn't die. Clearly."

Zatanna's expression softened slightly, though her stance remained defensive. "But I saw it, John. I saw you fall, and I couldn't reach you in time..."

At this point, John abandoned his cig and stomped its embers on the ground.

John's features softened momentarily before hardening again. "Well, I'm here now, aren't I? So whatever you saw, it wasn't the end of me."

Narberal exchanged a glance with John, noticing the complexity of emotions playing out on his face. It seemed there was more to John's relationship with Zatanna than he let on. John did his best to suppress his emotions, but it was all too clear for Narberal to see.

As a Doppelganger, Narberal had the 'traits' allowing her to read other creatures' emotional fluctuations

Zatanna continued, "Dr. Fate was gathering a team. He had me touch the Orb of Nabu, and I saw, John… I saw you die in multiple different ways more horrendous than the last… You would die… Changes are coming, John… That's why… That's why I am so scared…"

"What else did you see?" This time, it was John's heart that hardened.

"..." This time, Zatanna had shut up.

"What did you see?" John insisted.

Zatanna muttered, "A World of Peace…"

"That's unexpected, isn't it?" John grinned, "I wouldn't know what fate had in store for me, and if Dr. Fate was moving on his own pace like this, even going so far as to recruit you, he must have seen a different vision… I know this would sound cruel, but thanks, Zee… Thanks for being scared for me."

"But—" Before even Zatana could argue, John had already decided with finality.

"Nabe, since I wouldn't be able to use teleportation in the meanwhile, then I leave the rest to you…" John turned from Zatana, it was unmanly but he couldn't bring himself to look at her anymore.

Despite the cool and awesome facade-of-a-John he'd like to rely on, he was just a man in the end who was prone to melancholy and romance. Narberal took out a scroll and activated the Gate Spell imbued in it.

A dark void was summoned, to which John walked to it never looking back to Zatanna.

"Pots ta ecno rof i redro ouy~!" Zatanna unleashed her magic on John, her wand pointing at him. There was no visual cue of Zatanna's magic, and her usage of a wand was simply her aesthetics thus fooling Narberal.

Narberal watched John stop in his tracks before she could even cast a proper Shield Wall. "This is annoying…"

John laughed, "Hah~! I think you should do something, Nabe… Zatanna can be very stubborn."

"Annoying," Narberal took out her staff, and unleashed her magic on Zatanna, "Electrosphere," it was a Third Tier Spell that took the form of a ball of lightning. It took effort from Zatana to divert the magic blasted on her face, giving Narberal enough time to deal with John's debuff status.

Narberal used her magic to free John from the crowd control spell that hit him. "Magical Resistance Up." And quickly, John was freed from the magical binds that restrained him.

The two, Narberal and John, vanished into the dark void, leaving Zatanna alone.

---

When John came to his senses, he realized that he was already in the Throne Room where Ainz Ooal Gown and his Guardians had gathered. Ainz's large build sat imposingly on the throne where his staff of gold, snakes, and jewels remained floating by his side.

"You worried me, Constantine," Ainz called out to him.

If John said he was not worried, he would be lying. Ainz used the same wording as Zatanna did, implying he was watching all along. What happened to Zatanna could be as easily seen as a provocation or a scheme that John prepared, so it was not wrong to assume in his part that he was being suspected.

"Don't worry, pal, I wouldn't cheat on you, I'd be loyal to Nazarick, after all, I am now your apprentice, right?" And with a flamboyant bow, he for the first time had shown his version of respect to the Supreme Being.

"You should show more respect," Demiurge, the demon, called out John's sloppy bow.

"No, let him be, Demiurge," Ainz defended John, "You too Narberal, you should stand. I prefer this in fact. I hate to stifle you…"

"I would be more comfortable to remain as is, My Lord," Narberal stayed her one knee, while she gave John a side glance. "I am unlike this mongrel who was always so… rude… As I have failed to educate him, I wish to take responsibility by taking my own life—"

'What the f—' Ainz almost lost control for a moment

"What the fuck?" John was just being honest.

"Your crass language is not permitted here, you foul creature," Albedo criticized John. "If not for Lord Ainz's benevolence, your head would have ceased resting on your shoulders."

"Guardians," Ainz raised his voice in an authoritative tone, "I'd like a time with John alone."

The Guardians exchanged looks, but ultimately nodded in compliance with Ainz's request. Slowly, they filed out of the Throne Room, leaving John and Ainz alone in the grand chamber. Narberal took one last look before she bowed, and followed the leaving guardians.

John couldn't help but feel a surge of nervousness as he stood before the powerful Overlord. Despite his bravado, he knew he was treading on thin ice with his casual attitude.

Ainz studied John for a moment, his crimson eyes piercing through him with an intensity that sent shivers down his spine. Then, finally, he spoke.

"Constantine, I understand that you may not fully grasp the gravity of your actions," Ainz began, his voice echoing in the vast chamber. "But you must understand that in Nazarick, respect is paramount. Disrespect towards any member of our family is not tolerated."

John swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on the floor as he listened to Ainz's words.

"I have chosen to spare you from the consequences of your actions this time," Ainz continued, his tone firm but not unkind. "But I expect you to rectify your behavior and show proper respect to your fellow colleagues and to me."

John nodded, feeling a mix of relief and gratitude towards Ainz's mercy. "I understand, Lord Ainz. I will do my best to show the respect that Nazarick deserves."

Ainz nodded in acknowledgment. "Very well. Remember, Constantine, you are a part of this family now. We must stand united, as one. How about this? Let's do our first lesson about Magic here…"

"Seriously? Now? Narberal had my tuition fee so maybe later?" John became nervous again.

"You may have noticed already from Narberal, but Nazarick's Magic System worked on a different scale and logic compared to what you could do…" Ainz took something out from his inventory storage— a black void through thin air was summoned— and from it was a book.

"If you are not up for magic lessons, then how about homework," Ainz handed out a seemingly innocuous book with the patterns of staff and a wand crossed over an orb.

John hesitated, and then he was reminded of the Spectre's words. To become the grey in a world of white and black— that was the mission that had been forced on him whether he liked it or not. And then there was Zatanna who had informed him of his death now of all times.

There was no going against death, only co-existence.

At the back of his mind, John always had this urge to kick up a plan or two just to get away from the responsibility all too abruptly thrown on his shoulders… He was tempted… But for whatever reason, he couldn't find himself doing it.

There was a reason why the Spectre had so specifically chosen him— John Constantine.

"I'd gladly take you on in that homework," he grinned, an invisible weight on his shoulders slightly getting lighter. "I guess… I really had become Death's Apprentice now, huh? Neat…"