3,346Ainz Ooal Gown was a notorious and feared guild in the game Yggdrasil, renowned for its formidable power and strategic prowess. Many rival guilds attempted to challenge them but failed to even breach the second floor of their impregnable fortress, the Great Tomb of Nazarick, due to the powerful NPCs defending it. The guild was founded by 41 players, all belonging to the unique heteromorphic race, which contributed to their distinct and fearsome reputation.
The guild's might was unparalleled, boasting members like the World Champion and the World Disaster. Their leader, Momonga, wielded a powerful world item that transformed him into a World Class Enemy, a secret he kept to himself for fear of having his account compromised by hackers.
Momonga and his guildmates vanquished numerous legendary boss monsters, including the Devourer of the Nine Worlds and the Eight Dragons. Their victories were so monumental that the developers rewarded Ainz Ooal Gown with two NPCs of extraordinary power, rivaling even the mightiest of their members, Touch Me.
However, as time passed, the real world began to take its toll on the guild members. One by one, they left the game, unable to balance their real-life responsibilities with their virtual conquests. Momonga was left to face an inevitable and heartbreaking reality...
YGGDRASIL, the once-bustling DMMORPG, was moments away from its final shutdown. The virtual world that had hosted countless adventures, battles, and friendships was now eerily quiet. Momonga, the guild master of Ainz Ooal Gown, sat alone on his throne in the Great Tomb of Nazarick, the guild's base. He waited in the Round Table Room, a place that once echoed with the laughter and camaraderie of his friends.
"Only Hero-Hero, huh? Nobody else," Momonga muttered, his voice tinged with melancholy. The disappointment was palpable as he realized none of his other guildmates would be joining him in these last moments.
Rising from his chair, he reached for the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown, a symbol of their collective effort and triumph. The staff, an intricately crafted masterpiece imbued with powerful magic, was a testament to the unity and skill of his guild. Holding it firmly, Momonga left the Round Table Room, his footsteps echoing through the deserted halls of Nazarick.
He made his way through the labyrinthine corridors, each step filled with a sense of finality. The silence was profound, broken only by the soft hum of the magic-infused walls. Eventually, he arrived at the 10th floor, where a grand receiving room awaited. This room, a vast and opulent space, was designed to awe any who entered. It was adorned with lavish decorations, from grand chandeliers to exquisite tapestries, each detail meticulously crafted.
Standing at attention were the guardians of this sanctum: the butler Sebas and the battle maid squad, the Pleiades. These loyal NPCs, created by his guildmates, were here to defend against any who dared to invade. Yet, no player had ever breached Nazarick's defenses to reach this floor. The irony of their vigilance in these final moments was not lost on Momonga.
"Follow me," he commanded, his voice steady and authoritative.
Sebas and the Pleiades fell into step behind him, their expressions unwavering. They passed through the room, crossing a large magic circle inscribed on the floor, a symbol of the guild's magical prowess. Ahead, the giant double doors loomed, each over five meters in height. These doors were a marvel, covered in intricate carvings that told stories of gods and demons. The left door depicted a beautiful goddess, her serene face and flowing robes carved with exquisite detail. The right door, in stark contrast, showed a cruel demon, its twisted features and menacing posture capturing the essence of malevolence.
Momonga extended a skeletal hand, touching the cool surface of the doors. With a low, resonant creak, the doors began to open of their own accord, revealing the mysteries beyond. As the light spilled out from the opening, Momonga felt a surge of emotions—anticipation, nostalgia, and a hint of sadness for the world that was about to disappear.
Momonga advanced through the grand room, his gaze naturally drawn to the two striking figures flanking the throne.
On the right side stood a stunning woman, her pure white dress highlighting her ethereal beauty. Her serene, faint smile was akin to that of a goddess. However, her otherworldly appearance was accentuated by the pair of curved horns that sprouted from her head and the black-feathered wings that emerged from her waist. This was Albedo, the Overseer of the Floor Guardians of the Great Underground Tomb of Nazarick, a role that placed her in charge of all the NPC Floor Guardians.
On the left side was another unparalleled beauty, dressed in a deep blue outfit that accentuated her impressive curves. A crimson cape billowed dramatically behind her, and she wore silver and blue armor that gleamed under the room's lights. Her long blonde hair was elegantly tied in a bun, and atop her head rested a golden crown, signifying her regal status. This was Artoria Pendragon (Lancer), the Vice Overseer Guardian. Despite her divine appearance, she was, in truth, a demon, a stark contrast that made her even more intriguing and formidable.
Momonga paused before them, his skeletal face betraying no emotion, though a sense of pride swelled within him. These NPCs were not just creations; they were representations of his guildmates' creativity and dedication.
"Stand by," Momonga commanded, his voice resonating through the hall. Both Albedo and Artoria inclined their heads in acknowledgment, their expressions unwavering in their loyalty.
With the command given, Momonga ascended the final steps to the throne. Each step felt heavier than the last, weighed down by the memories of his friends and the impending end of YGGDRASIL.
Finally, he reached the throne and sat down, the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown resting across his lap. The weight of the staff was a comforting reminder of his guild's glory. He looked out over the room, at the loyal NPCs who stood ready to serve and protect. Despite the imminent shutdown, there was a strange sense of peace in knowing that he wasn't completely alone.
As the final moments of YGGDRASIL ticked away, Momonga felt a mix of sadness and anticipation. He closed his eyes, ready to face the end of this world and whatever might come after.
Then Momonga turned his face to Albedo. "What kind of backstory was she designed with?" Momonga wondered aloud. All he knew was that Albedo was the Overseer of the Guardians, the highest-ranked NPC in Nazarick. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned a console and began scrolling through the details of Albedo's flavor text.
As he skimmed through the intricate backstory written by her creator, Tabula Smaragdina, a particular line caught his eye: "She is also a slut."
Momonga could not help but stare at the screen, his skeletal face somehow conveying shock.
"Huh, she is also a slut? What the hell?!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the empty hall. He read the line again and again, hoping that he had misunderstood or that it was a mistake. However, no matter how many times he re-read it, the sentence remained the same. He tried to ponder the reasoning behind such an addition, but he couldn't come up with any plausible explanations.
"Hmm, let's change it," he muttered, feeling a bit guilty but also resolute. He hesitated for a moment, then began editing the flavor text. "She loves Momonga," he typed, replacing the previous line. He took a step back to review his change, nodding in satisfaction.
"Umu, I think this is better. I hope Tabula will not be angry at me for this," Momonga mused. After all, it was a small modification, and it seemed more fitting to him. The altered text now reflected a loyal and loving character, which aligned better with the role of the Overseer of the Guardians.
Momonga turned his head to Artoria, who stood gracefully at his left side, her demeanor regal and composed. The Vice Overseer Guardian exuded an aura of nobility and strength that matched her imposing appearance. His curiosity piqued, Momonga decided to delve into her backstory.
"Hmm, what about her?" he murmured, summoning the console once more and beginning to scroll through her flavor text.
As he skimmed the intricate details crafted by his friend Blue Planet, one particular line made him pause.
"What the... 'She is madly in love with the Guildmaster Momonga'?!"
Momonga blinked in surprise, rereading the line multiple times. The notion that Blue Planet, known for his meticulous and serious nature, would include such a detail was bewildering.
"Uhh, let's leave it like that," he decided after a moment, feeling slightly flustered but opting not to alter it. He tried to push the thought from his mind, focusing instead on the task at hand.
He cleared his throat and addressed the NPCs with authority. "And the command is... 'KNEEL.'"
In an instant, every NPC in the throne room, including Albedo and Artoria, dropped to one knee in perfect unison. Their movements were fluid and graceful, reflecting their unwavering loyalty and dedication. Momonga raised his left hand to check the time displayed on his interface.
[23:55:48]
In the dimly lit chamber of The Great Tomb of Nazarick, Momonga stood before the glowing countdown on his screen, frustration etched on his usually composed face.
"Damn it, this is not fair," he muttered to himself, his voice echoing in the empty halls. "I've been here alone for two years, protecting this place, and not a single one of my friends bothered to come say hello."
He scrolled through his inbox, filled with unanswered emails to his old companions. The lack of responses only fueled his sense of abandonment.
"Well, of course, they'll choose real life," he reasoned with a bitter sigh. "But it was really fun, wasn't it?"
The digital clock on his watch blinked [23:57], casting a faint glow on his expression of resignation. The inevitable shutdown at midnight was a reminder of the transient nature of their virtual existence.
As the minutes ticked away, Momonga's thoughts drifted to memories of adventures shared, battles fought, and laughter shared with comrades who had long since moved on. He felt a pang of loneliness that no NPC or virtual world could assuage.
"I guess it's time," he murmured, preparing himself for the shutdown. "Back to reality, back to work."
[23:59:48, 49, 50]
With a heavy heart, Momonga closed his eyes as the world around him began to fade, knowing that when he woke up, it would be to face another day in the real world, devoid of the fantastical realms and cherished bonds of the virtual realm.
[23:59:58, 59—]
Momonga's eyes snapped open as the countdown reached its final moments, expecting the familiar sensation of automatic logout. But to his bewilderment, instead of the expected disconnection, he found himself surrounded by a dense forest, the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the canopy above.
"What the...?!" His voice echoed in the quiet wilderness as he scrambled to his feet, his mind racing to make sense of the unexpected turn of events. "What the hell is happening here? The server should be shut down by now, and why am I in a forest?!"
The trees loomed tall around him, casting eerie shadows in the moonlit night. Momonga's heart pounded with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. Was this some sort of glitch? A server malfunction? Or had something truly extraordinary occurred?
"My voice sounds different," Momonga murmured to himself, a note of confusion in his tone. The sound that echoed back to him felt deeper, richer than usual, a subtle alteration that added to his growing sense of disorientation.
"Is this YGGDRASIL 2?" he wondered aloud, referring to the game's sequel that had been rumored but never confirmed. His mind raced through possibilities, trying to rationalize the inexplicable situation while clinging to the familiarity of his high-level avatar.
"But I'm still in my high-level avatar," Momonga mused, a flicker of relief amidst the chaos of his thoughts. Yet, that relief was short-lived as he realized another disturbing fact. "And I can't log out."
Panic, frustration, and suspicion mingled within him, threatening to overwhelm his usually composed demeanor. However, a surprising calm settled over Momonga.
Forced connections that bypassed standard game mechanics—no console, no chat function, no GM call, no forced logout. It was as if the rules of the game had been rewritten, and Momonga found himself thrust into a reality that defied logic and explanation.
He attempted every familiar command, every known workaround, but none of them yielded results. It was as though the systems he had relied on for so long had vanished, leaving him stranded in this unfamiliar realm.
"Uuuhhhh, forget it," Momonga muttered, frustration still simmering beneath his calm facade. "I need to get out of this forest."
With a mental command, he activated his avatar's ability to fly, feeling the familiar rush of freedom as he was lifted from the forest floor and soared into the night sky. The sensation of weightlessness was both exhilarating and surreal, a stark reminder of the fantastical nature of this new reality.
As Momonga ascended, his gaze turned upward, and he couldn't help but marvel at the pristine beauty around him. The air was crisp and untainted, devoid of the pollution that plagued his previous world. The stars twinkled like diamonds against a canvas of deep blue, a sight that took his breath away.
"Amazing," Momonga murmured, his voice filled with wonder. "The air here is so fresh, it must never have been polluted."
He allowed himself a moment to appreciate the sheer magnificence of the clear night sky, a sight he had never witnessed in his former life.
"Beautiful... absolutely beautiful," he whispered, a sense of awe washing over him. "Blue Planet... this world is like a chest of jewels."
But his reverie was interrupted as he directed his gaze downward, taking in the vast expanse of the forest below.
"Wow, this forest is damn huge," Momonga remarked, noting the differences between this place and the virtual landscapes of YGGDRASIL. "I've seen similar forests in YGGDRASIL, but this... this feels more real."
Momonga aimed for a point on the ground and landed gracefully, his obsidian armor glinting under the virtual sun of Yggdrasil.
"I have to clock in for work soon, and I'm still stuck in this game. Nazarick feels more real every day... Damn it, why is this happening?"
With a wave of his skeletal hand, an ominous aura spilled forth, suffusing the surroundings with a malevolent energy. The once verdant grass and vibrant trees withered under its touch, a testament to the immense power at Momonga's command.
"I must be more careful with my Despair Aura," he muttered to himself, glancing around at the withered grass and twisted trees that bore testament to his power.
As Momonga's anger ebbed, he noticed a small form lying nearby, its green skin a stark contrast to the dying landscape.
"A goblin?" he remarked with a mix of curiosity and regret. "I didn't mean for this to happen, little one."
Approaching the creature, Momonga knelt beside it, his glowing red eyes scanning for any signs of life. What he found puzzled him.
"Strange," he murmured. "Normally, their bodies fade away, leaving behind only their belongings."
He waited, expecting the goblin's form to dissolve into nothingness, but to his surprise, it remained stubbornly corporeal.
"Ten seconds should be enough," he mused, his brow furrowing in concern.
"Hmm, all right, I should confirm this once and for all."
He took out a black sword from his inventory and stabbed the goblin. Momonga's grip on the black sword tightened, his hollow gaze fixated on the goblin's bleeding form. The metallic scent of blood filled the air, a stark reminder of the stark reality before him.
Momonga's mind raced as he stared at the goblin's lifeless body, the reality of the situation sinking in like a heavy anchor in his undead heart.
"This... this can't be a game," he muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief. The weight of the situation settled upon him like a leaden cloak, the implications staggering in their enormity.
As he withdrew from the lifeless form, a newfound clarity pierced through the haze of confusion. "It's real. All of it," Momonga declared, his tone resolute despite the incredulity of his words.
The revelation brought with it a strange mix of emotions — the realization of mortality, the absence of fatigue in his undead form, and the eerie calm that pervaded his being. He pondered the implications, his mind grappling with the conundrum of existing in this new, tangible world.
"If I can still wield magic, access my inventory, and remain composed after taking a life... perhaps it is because I am undead," Momonga reasoned, his thoughts racing as he attempted to piece together the puzzle of his existence.
The absence of physical exhaustion gnawed at the edges of his consciousness, a stark reminder of the uncanny nature of his being. Yet, amidst the turmoil, a thirst for knowledge blossomed within him.
"I need information," Momonga resolved, his crimson eyes alight with determination. In this unfamiliar reality, knowledge would be his greatest ally, guiding him through the labyrinthine depths of this new world.
...
As the sun slowly began its ascent over the horizon, casting a warm golden glow across the sprawling landscape, Momonga found himself immersed in the tranquility of the early morning. The gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze and the distant chirping of birds provided a serene backdrop to his journey.
Despite his ability to effortlessly traverse the terrain with [FLY], Momonga chose to walk. He relished the sensation of solid ground beneath his feet, a rare feeling for one who had spent countless hours in the virtual world of Yggdrasil. Besides, flying recklessly in this unfamiliar realm seemed unwise, especially considering his uncertain status as an undead being.
As he strolled along, lost in his thoughts, a sudden cacophony shattered the peaceful ambiance. At first, it was just distant voices, but they quickly escalated into desperate screams that tore through the tranquil morning air like jagged shards of glass.
Momonga's instincts kicked in, overriding any hesitation. Without hesitation, he invoked the formidable power of [Perfect Unknowable], a spell that cloaked him in absolute invisibility, rendering him undetectable to both sight and sound.
Following the anguished cries, Momonga swiftly made his way towards the source of the disturbance. The scene that greeted him was a stark contrast to the serene beauty he had been enjoying moments ago. A small village lay before him, engulfed in chaos and flames. Houses smoldered, casting ominous shadows, while armored knights on horseback wreaked havoc among the terrified villagers.
The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and the pungent smoke of burning thatch. Momonga's undead nature spared him from the visceral revulsion that a living being might feel at such carnage, but he couldn't help but feel a cold detachment as he observed the brutality unfolding before him. "Yep, I feel nothing. If I were human, I would have vomited right now," he mused inwardly, his mind detached yet analytical.
The memory of Touch Me, a fellow guild member known for his compassion and heroism, crossed Momonga's thoughts. "Touch Me would just go there and help these villagers," he reflected, a pang of admiration mixed with a sense of duty stirring within him. "All right, I should save them and gather information about this world."
Captain Belius' eyes gleamed with sadistic delight as he surveyed the trembling villagers. "Well then, my men, our guests have arrived. Shall we give them a proper welcome?" he sneered, his voice dripping with malice.
The knights, clad in their menacing armor, responded with cold, mechanical precision. "At your command, Captain Belius," they intoned, drawing their longswords with a chilling, metallic hiss. The blades gleamed ominously in the dim light, ready to spill innocent blood.
The villagers, their faces streaked with tears, fell to their knees, pleading for mercy. Desperation painted their voices as they cried out to the gods, hoping for a miracle to save them from this living nightmare.
Belius threw back his head and laughed, the sound echoing like a death knell. "Foolish peasants, your prayers fall on deaf ears. Not even your king cares for your wretched lives!" His laughter was a cruel, mocking symphony, underscoring the hopelessness of their plight.
"I think that's enough," a voice resonated, cutting through the chaos like a blade. The knights exchanged bewildered glances, each trying to identify the source. None of their comrades possessed a voice so chilling, so commanding.
Emerging from the shadows, the owner of the voice made his presence known. Two points of crimson light blazed within the hollow sockets of a skull, exuding an eerie glow. He was draped in an elaborate, jet-black academic gown adorned with intricate golden and violet edges. Each of his skeletal fingers bore a ring, each more exquisite than the last.
It was death incarnate, a specter from the abyss, come to claim their souls.
"M-Monster!"
"U-Undead!"
"Aiiiiiiieeeeee!"
The knights' cries of terror filled the night as they beheld the undead figure standing before them. The sheer horror of his presence paralyzed them, their earlier bravado shattered. Panic set in, and all they could think of was to flee as fast as their legs could carry them.
"Oh God, please save me..." one of the knights whimpered, his voice barely a whisper.
The undead figure chuckled, a hollow, echoing sound that chilled the blood. "How ironic," he mused, his tone dripping with contempt. "The villagers begged you for mercy, and you showed none. Now you plead to your god for salvation. Pathetic."
With deliberate slowness, the undead being raised his skeletal hand.
"[Despair Aura level 5]."
A dark aura spread like a storm, engulfing the area in an oppressive shroud. Thirty knights dropped to the ground, lifeless, like marionettes with their strings severed. The remaining twenty knights watched in horror as their comrades fell, their bravado melting into sheer terror. They trembled, on the brink of losing control, fear coursing through their veins like poison.
"You, you lot, go and kill that monster!" Belius shouted, his voice cracking with desperation. "I'm not someone who should die here! All of you, hurry up and protect me! Be my shields!"
The remaining knights stood frozen, not a single one willing to step forward. Their loyalty crumbled under the weight of their fear; none wanted to sacrifice their lives for Belius' cowardice.
The undead being, unfazed, slowly raised both his arms. A dense black fog materialized, swirling ominously before it surged toward the fallen knights' bodies, enveloping them in its sinister embrace.
The fog expanded, melding with the corpses. One by one, the thirty lifeless knights began to stir, rising from the ground like marionettes pulled by invisible strings, now twisted into grotesque forms resembling zombies.
"Back in YGGDRASIL, this process was different," thought Momonga, observing the transformation with a detached curiosity.
The black fluid continued to flow, coating the knights entirely. Their bodies convulsed and warped under its influence, undergoing a nightmarish metamorphosis.
After several agonizing seconds, the liquid receded, revealing the newly transformed warriors. Standing at an imposing 2.3 meters tall, their bodies had become bulkier, their human features lost to a demonic visage.
Each held a large shield in their left hand and a wavy-bladed flamberg in their right. Encased in full plate armor, they exuded a menacing aura. Demonic horns jutted from their helmets, and spikes adorned their armor. A black cape billowed behind them, completing their fearsome transformation.
The knights' terrified eyes widened as they took in the sight of their former comrades, now monstrous abominations. Their despair deepened, knowing they faced an enemy beyond any they had ever encountered.
"Exterminate all the knights," the undead being commanded with an air of finality.
"I hear and obey, oh supreme one," one of the Death Knights replied, pride resonating in his deep, chilling voice.
"Holy crap, did he just talk? That's amazing!" thought Momonga, momentarily fascinated by the display.
The Death Knights advanced like a relentless storm, their movements swift and precise.
"Aiiiiieee!"
"NO, NOOO, NOOOOO!"
Panicked squeals filled the air as the remaining knights realized their doom. One man broke into a desperate run, but only managed four steps before a Death Knight transformed into a dark mist, reappearing in front of the fleeing knight and slicing his body in two. The bisected halves collapsed in opposite directions, spilling his internal organs onto the blood-soaked ground.
"[Go kill the knights that are around the village,]" commanded Momonga, his voice calm and authoritative.
Ten Death Knights dispersed in different directions, seeking out the scattered knights. The remaining Death Knights continued their merciless slaughter. Limbs and heads flew through the air, and the grass, once green, was now stained a deep, crimson red from the sea of blood.
In the blink of an eye, the hunters had become the hunted. The Death Knights moved with terrifying efficiency, their gruesome work turning the battlefield into a scene of absolute carnage.
"P-Pl-Please," Belius stammered, his voice cracking with fear. "I come from a rich family in the Slane Theocracy. I can offer you plenty of money, please let me go!" Tears streamed down his cheeks as he pleaded for his life.
"I want nothing from you, mortal," the Death Knight replied, his voice devoid of emotion. "But I can give you only one thing..."
Belius, on his knees, trembled as he looked up at the imposing figure of the Death Knight before him.
"DEATH," the Death Knight declared, plunging his wavy-bladed flamberge into Belius' chest without hesitation.
Belius let out a gut-wrenching scream, "Leh, leh me guh! Ah beggehg yeh!" His pleas fell on deaf ears as the blade tore through his flesh and armor, blood spurting in all directions. In moments, Belius's life was brutally snuffed out.
The Death Knight lifted his head, his dreadful eyes scanning the frozen villagers who stood witness to the merciless execution. Their faces twisted in terror, realizing the fate that awaited them at the hands of these merciless beings.
"All right, that's enough. Good job, Death Knights," the undead being spoke with an air of authority that commanded respect.
The Death Knights immediately knelt down before their master, their armor clinking softly against the ground as a sign of reverence. "We live to serve you, Oh God of Death," one of them declared proudly, the others echoing the sentiment with unwavering loyalty.
"Umu, I'm pleased with your dedication," replied the undead being, his voice resonating with an ancient power.
With a nod, he passed through the ranks of the Death Knights, their ominous presence parting like shadows, and approached the quaking villagers. Their faces were etched with terror, expecting imminent death.
But to their bewilderment, the undead being spoke in a surprisingly gentle tone. "Hello there, good people. You have been saved. Be at ease," he reassured them, his voice carrying an otherworldly calmness.
The villagers exchanged confused glances. How could a terrifying undead creature be their savior?
"I witnessed these knights attacking this village, so I intervened," the undead being explained, his words laced with sincerity.
"Ohh..." the villagers murmured in disbelief, their fear slowly giving way to gratitude.
As the noise of gratitude filled the air, looks of relief slowly dawned on the faces of the villagers. Yet, despite their newfound sense of safety, an underlying tension lingered.
"Without your intervention, we would all be dead by now. We owe you our deepest thanks!" exclaimed an elderly man, his voice trembling with emotion.
"May we know the name of our savior?" another villager asked, curiosity and gratitude mingling in their tone.
"My name..." the undead began, his voice carrying a weight of ancient knowledge and power. "My name is Ainz Ooal Gown," he proudly declared, his crimson eyes gleaming with a mix of authority and benevolence.
The villagers exchanged astonished glances. Ainz Ooal Gown. The name carried an aura of mystery and grandeur, as if it resonated with echoes from a distant past.
"My lord, how can we repay you for saving us?" the elderly man inquired, his voice filled with earnest gratitude.
Ainz's gaze softened, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I have been in a deep slumber for thousands of years, and this world has changed a great deal during that time. The only payment I seek is information," he explained calmly, his eyes scanning the faces of the villagers.
The villagers' eyes widened in astonishment. Thousands of years? This Ainz Ooal Gown was not just a savior but an ancient being, a relic of a forgotten era.
"Y-Yes, as you wish, my lord," the elderly man replied, his voice trembling slightly. The realization that they were indebted to an entity from a bygone age filled the villagers with a mixture of awe and apprehension.
The old village chief's words painted a vivid picture of the political landscape surrounding the village and the territories beyond. As Ainz listened attentively, he absorbed the information about the neighboring countries with a keen interest.
"The Re-Estize Kingdom and the Baharuth Empire, separated by the formidable barrier of the mountain range," Ainz mused, processing the geographical layout. "And to the south, a vast forest teeming with life, where this village finds its place under the jurisdiction of the Re-Estize Kingdom and the fortress city of E-Rantel."
The chief's description shed light on the longstanding conflict between the Re-Estize Kingdom and the Baharuth Empire. Ainz noted the animosity between the two nations, their rivalry manifesting in yearly confrontations and battles.
"And below them, the Slane Theocracy," Ainz remarked, acknowledging the unique characteristics of this religious nation. "Ruled by six cardinals, a land steeped in devotion and faith."
As the village chief delved into the topic of other races and monsters inhabiting the nearby forest, Ainz's interest was piqued. He listened intently as the chief painted a diverse picture of the surrounding wilderness.
"Elves, Dwarves, Orcs, Goblins, Beastmen..." Ainz mentally cataloged the various races mentioned, his mind working to understand the intricacies of this world's inhabitants.
"And these adventurers," the chief continued, "they make a living by driving off these monsters from the forest. They're organized into guilds, present in all the major cities."
Ainz nodded thoughtfully, processing the information. "So, they're essentially mercenaries," he remarked aloud, his tone analytical. The concept of adventurers taking on tasks for monetary rewards resonated with his understanding of similar roles in other worlds he had encountered.
The chief nodded in agreement. "Indeed, my lord. They take on quests, slay monsters, explore dangerous areas... all for the promise of coin and fame."
Ainz considered the implications of these adventurers and their guilds. They represented a force of skilled individuals, capable of tackling challenges that ordinary citizens could not. Their presence hinted at a structured society, with systems in place to manage the threats posed by monsters and other supernatural beings.
Suddenly, a sharp knock echoed through the house, signaling the arrival of an unexpected guest. The heavy door creaked open to reveal a Death Knight, its ominous presence filling the room.
"My lord," the Death Knight intoned, "the village is under siege by a group of mysterious individuals."
"How many assailants, and how close are they?" Ainz inquired, his expression unreadable.
"They number around one hundred and are approximately 200 meters from our location. They have also summoned flying creatures to aid their assault," the Death Knight reported.
"Summoned flying creatures?" Ainz mused, a hint of concern flickering across his face.
Ainz turned towards the village chief, his gaze steady but calculating. "It appears we have unexpected guests today, Chief. Do you have any insights into why they would target this village?"
"I'm afraid not, my lord," the chief replied, his voice tinged with worry. "Our visitors usually consist of tax collectors or occasional adventurers. This is highly unusual." the village chief explained, worry evident in his voice.
Ainz emerged from the village chief's dwelling, his gaze fixated on the looming threat. He studied the direction where his enemies stood, their summoned Archangel Flames a testament to their formidable power.
"Can they wield YGGDRASIL magic?" Ainz pondered silently, his eyes narrowing as he observed the angelic beings.
The villagers, trembling with fear, watched Ainz with worried expressions. The specter of a recurring nightmare hung over them, and in this moment, their only hope lay with the undead deity before them.
Ainz turned back to address the villagers, his voice firm yet reassuring. "Fear not, good people. I will confront and vanquish these adversaries."
The villagers' expressions shifted from anxiety to relief, their gratitude palpable. They lowered themselves in reverence before this being they considered their savior.
"O Supreme Being, we offer our heartfelt thanks for shielding us once more. Without your intervention, our fate would have been sealed. We are forever in your debt."
Their heads bowed deeply, a gesture of profound respect and gratitude that touched Ainz in a way he hadn't experienced in his previous life.
"I appreciate your gratitude," Ainz replied, a hint of humility in his tone. "Now, I shall confront and eliminate these foes."
Ainz surveyed the Death Knights, their ominous figures standing tall amidst the shadows. "Two of you," he commanded, "will remain here as sentinels, protecting the village. The rest shall accompany me to the battlefield, but at a cautious pace. Understood?"
The Death Knights, their loyalty unwavering, responded in unison, "Yes!"
With a swift incantation and a surge of magical energy, Ainz vanished from their midst, reappearing in front of the enemy forces.
"Seems Gazef isn't heading our way after all. Did he change course?" The scarred man muttered, frustration evident in his tone.
"None of the knights have returned, sir," reported another, his tone tinged with concern.
As hours slipped by without any sign of the knights' return, tension mounted. It was just a routine mission to the village; what could possibly have gone awry?
The leader of a black ops unit from the Slaine Theocracy grew restless with each passing moment. Waiting was not a luxury they could afford.
Commander Nigun Grid Luin of the Sunlight Scripture surveyed the village once more, his gaze searching for any sign of Gazef's presence. Yet, once again, there was no sight of the renowned warrior. Frustrated but determined, Nigun returned to his men.
"I'm not sure what's delaying Gazef, but we can't afford to wait any longer. We must advance; he might be on the other side of the village," Nigun declared, his voice carrying a sense of urgency and resolve.
As they began their advance, a figure materialized before them, halting Nigun and his men in their tracks. Nigun's eyes widened in shock as he beheld the creature before him—it was unmistakably an undead, a being that stood as the antithesis to all living things.
The undead being appeared to be an elder lich, a powerful magic caster akin to Nigun and his men. Throughout his life, Nigun had encountered and dispatched numerous elder liches, each with their grotesque, decaying visages. However, this undead defied expectation; it lacked flesh and skin, yet was adorned in the garb of an arcane spellcaster.
Nigun, his expression stern and unwavering, addressed the elder lich directly. "Who are you, elder lich?"
The undead being, devoid of flesh but filled with an aura of ancient power, replied, "My name is inconsequential. What are your intentions with these villagers?"
"They are mere sacrifices," Nigun replied, a cruel grin spreading across his face. "We intend to slaughter them all."
The elder lich's empty sockets seemed to gleam with disdain as it retorted, "You display audacity, mortal. I recently protected that village, and now you seek to massacre its inhabitants. Few acts could be more abhorrent."
The undead's words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the twisted intentions that drove Nigun and his followers.
In the hierarchy of the Slaine Theocracy, it was unheard of for anyone to address Nigun with such insolence. However, the undead being's demeanor remained stoic and unyielding.
The robes of the elder lich billowed ominously in the wind, its tattered fabric whispering ancient curses. Nigun and his cohorts stood before this unholy presence, their bravado barely masking their unease.
Nigun, his voice dripping with disdain, taunted the lich. "What's the matter, old bones? Lost your touch? Maybe you should just crawl back into whatever tomb you slithered out of."
The lich remained eerily composed, its empty sockets fixated on Nigun. "You mistake patience for weakness," it rasped, each word carrying the weight of centuries. "I have endured longer than your feeble mind can fathom, and I have seen empires rise and fall with a mere gesture of my hand."
The air grew colder as the lich continued, its voice resonating with ancient power. "You and your pitiful band are but gnats before the storm. I will unleash a wrath upon you that will echo through the ages, a testament to the folly of mortals who dared challenge the undead."
Nigun faltered, the bravado draining from his face as he realized the gravity of his situation. The wind howled, carrying the lich's words like a harbinger of doom.
A chill raced through Nigun's entire being, from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head.
"Summon the angels! Attack him! Now!" Nigun barked out orders, urgency lacing his voice.
Nigun's command echoed through the ranks of the Archangel Flames, their righteous fury fueling their assault on the elder lich. The air crackled with divine energy as they descended upon Ainz like a storm of holy retribution, their blades shimmering with celestial power.
However, Ainz remained unperturbed, his demeanor almost bored as the angels closed in around him. His skeletal form stood amidst the swirling chaos, a stark contrast to the radiant beings surrounding him.
As the angels' blades closed in, ready to pierce his form with divine justice, Ainz's expertise intervened. "[Negative Burst]," he intoned, his voice cutting through the tumult like a blade through silk.
A wave of dark energy erupted from Ainz, a stark contrast to the blinding radiance of the angels. It was as if a void had opened, swallowing the light and vitality around it. In that fleeting moment, the black radiance swept over the angels, draining their celestial essence.
Nigun watched in horror as his elite forces were undone by a force beyond their comprehension. The thrill of cold that had gripped him earlier now turned to ice in his veins as he realized the true extent of the lich's power.
"Impossible..." Nigun's voice quivered with disbelief as he struggled to comprehend the scene unfolding before him. The once-proud members of the Sunlight Scripture, renowned for their zeal and unwavering faith, now stood shaken to their core.
"The angels... they're gone," one whispered, his voice trembling with disbelief.
The air crackled with tension as the reality of their situation sunk in. What had started as a confident assault had turned into a nightmare of unimaginable proportions. The black wave had swept through their ranks with merciless efficiency, leaving devastation in its wake.
"It's a monster!" another cried out, his words a mix of fear and desperation.
The members of the Sunlight Scripture exchanged panicked glances, their faith waning in the face of such overwhelming power. They had faced foes before, but nothing like this. The elder lich stood before them, a specter of death and destruction, and they realized with a sinking dread that they were woefully unprepared.
"We... we need to retreat," someone muttered, the urgency in their voice echoing the fear that gripped them all.
In that moment, surrounded by the aftermath of the lich's devastating spell, the members of the Sunlight Scripture knew that they had encountered something beyond their comprehension. It was a waking nightmare, a glimpse into a world where the line between life and death blurred into darkness.
"P-Principality of Observation! Strike now!" Nigun's command rang out with desperation, his voice strained as he sought any means to confront the unstoppable force before them. The Principality of Observation, adorned in gleaming armor and wielding a mace imbued with divine power, stepped forward with determination, ready to face the elder lich head-on.
The angel's mace shimmered in the dim light as it swung downward with righteous fury, aimed at the skeletal form before it. But before the blow could land, the lich raised a skeletal hand, halting the attack as if it were a mere inconvenience.
"It's my turn now," the lich intoned, his voice carrying a dark undertone.
"[Hell Flame]," he whispered, and from his bony finger emerged a small, flickering mote of flame. At first, it seemed harmless, a mere ember in the vast darkness of the battlefield. But then, with a sudden burst of intensity, the flame surged toward the Principality of Observation.
Time seemed to slow as the black flame made contact with the angelic form. At first, there was silence, a moment of eerie stillness. Then, as if the very fabric of reality had been torn asunder, the air erupted into searing heat and darkness.
Nigun's eyes widened in horror as the Principality of Observation was engulfed by the inferno, its once-glorious form now a writhing silhouette of agony. The black flames danced with malevolent glee, consuming the angelic essence without mercy.
Even from his vantage point, far from the epicenter of destruction, Nigun could feel the heat radiating from the flames. The intense darkness seemed to swallow everything in its path, leaving behind nothing but ash and despair.
As quickly as it had appeared, the hellish conflagration vanished, leaving behind only the eerie quiet of a battlefield ravaged by forces beyond mortal comprehension. The Principality of Observation, once a symbol of divine strength, had been reduced to nothingness in the face of the lich's terrible power.
"This-this can't be..." Nigun's voice cracked with disbelief and desperation as he struggled to comprehend the sheer magnitude of the lich's power. The once-confident leader of the Sunlight Scripture was now reduced to a trembling shadow of his former self.
"In just one hit..." he murmured, his words barely audible amidst the chaos of battle.
"It's impossible!" another member of the Sunlight Scripture exclaimed, his voice filled with equal parts shock and denial. "Nobody can defeat a high-tier angel with just one spell!"
Nigun's mind raced, trying to make sense of the incomprehensible. "Who are you, elder lich? What is your name?" he demanded, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation.
The lich regarded Nigun with empty sockets, devoid of any emotion. "There is no need to tell my name to someone that is about to die," he replied calmly, his tone unwavering.
Nigun's heartbeat thundered in his ears, the sound drowning out the chaos of battle around him. He felt as if he had been running for an eternity, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as the weight of the situation bore down on him.
His mind raced with thoughts of survival, of finding a way to overcome this unstoppable force. But deep down, he knew the truth. The elder lich was a harbinger of death, a being beyond mortal comprehension, and in that moment of realization, Nigun's bravado crumbled like a fragile facade.
As the situation grew increasingly dire, Nigun's mind raced with desperate strategies. "Captain, what should we do?" one of them pleaded, turning to the one figure he had always looked to for guidance.
Nigun's expression hardened with resolve. "Protect me!" he commanded, his voice tinged with urgency. "I am going to summon the highest angel!"
With a determined motion, Nigun retrieved a crystal from his robes, its surface shimmering with potent magic. Within that crystal was sealed the power to summon the most formidable angel known to man—a celestial being that had vanquished a Demon God two centuries prior.
Ainz observed with interest, noting the familiarity of the YGGDRASIL item's power. The appearance of the legendary angel caused a stir among Nigun's forces, their hearts filled with a mix of awe and anticipation.
With a surge of energy, Nigun activated the crystal, channeling its magic into the summoning ritual. The air crackled with anticipation as the legendary angel began to materialize, its presence heralded by a surge of divine power.
"Behold!" Nigun declared, his voice filled with awe and triumph. "The highest angel! Dominion Authority!"
The legendary angel descended upon the earth in a blaze of radiant glory. Its form was majestic and awe-inspiring, adorned with countless wings that shimmered with celestial light. In its arms, it held a scepter of pure divine energy, a symbol of its unparalleled authority.
But as the angel fully materialized, an unsettling realization dawned upon Nigun and his men. There was something peculiar about its appearance—it had no visible head or legs. Yet, despite this anomaly, the surrounding air seemed to brighten and clear, as if touched by the divine presence of the legendary being.
As the legendary angel Dominion Authority descended with majestic grandeur, Nigun's heart swelled with hope, believing that their salvation had arrived. But his hopes were dashed as the elder lich, seemingly unimpressed, raised a skeletal hand with disdain.
"Ugh, It turned out to be just mere garbage," the lich sneered, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.
Before Nigun could muster a response, the elder lich's hand rose once more, a dark aura pulsating around his skeletal fingers. Panic seized the hearts of those who witnessed the unfolding horror, their eyes widening in dread as they realized the impending doom.
"Wha—?" Nigun's protest was cut short as the lich unleashed his devastating spell.
"[Black Hole]," the lich intoned, his voice carrying the weight of inevitable destruction.
A small, ominous point appeared on Dominion Authority's radiant body, a stark contrast to its majestic form. Slowly, almost mockingly, the point expanded into a gaping maw of absolute darkness—a black hole hungry for all that dared defy its gravitational pull.
The legendary angel's brilliance was eclipsed by the encroaching darkness, its celestial light dimming as it was drawn inexorably toward the yawning abyss. In a cruel twist of fate, the black hole devoured everything in its path, swallowing Dominion Authority whole.
Darkness reigned supreme as the black hole consumed the last remnants of hope and resistance. The battlefield was engulfed in an eerie silence, broken only by the faint echoes of despair.
Nigun stood frozen in disbelief, his mind struggling to process the devastation that unfolded before him. The once-proud members of the Sunlight Scripture, renowned for their faith and zeal, now lay broken and lifeless, their bodies scattered across the battlefield like discarded toys.
"Who... are you...?" Nigun managed to stammer, his voice barely a whisper amidst the carnage.
The elder lich regarded Nigun with cold indifference. "You really are an annoying mortal," he replied dismissively. "Playtime is over."
With a wave of his hand, the lich commanded his Death Knights, formidable armored undead warriors, to unleash their wrath upon the remnants of the Sunlight Scripture. The Death Knights emerged from the shadows with ominous intent, their massive shields and deadly weapons gleaming in the dim light.
Nigun's shock turned to horror as he watched his comrades being cut down mercilessly by the relentless onslaught of the Death Knights. The once-proud warriors of faith stood no chance against the overwhelming might of the undead.
Blood stained the ground as screams of agony pierced the air, a symphony of despair that echoed Nigun's own sense of helplessness. He could only watch in horror as his allies, his friends, were slaughtered like lambs before the grim reaper's scythe.
The atmosphere was thick with tension as Nigun found himself kneeling before the dreaded elder lich, his life hanging by a thread. His voice quivered with desperation as he pleaded for mercy, his eyes wide with terror.
"P-Please d-don't kill me!" Nigun's voice trembled, the words barely escaping his lips.
The Death Knight, its sword poised dangerously close to Nigun's throat, remained silent and unmoving, a silent sentinel of death standing at the lich's command. Nigun's breath caught in his throat as he stared up at the undead being, a flicker of hope mingling with the overwhelming dread that consumed him.
For a moment, there was a tense silence, broken only by the faint sounds of battle echoing in the distance. Nigun's gaze pleaded silently with the elder lich, hoping against hope that some shred of mercy might spare him from his imminent demise.
"Now, mortal, explain your attack on this village," the undead being demanded, its voice carrying a hint of curiosity.
"W-We were tasked by the cardinals to set a trap and eliminate the Warrior Captain of the Kingdom," Nigun stammered, his voice betraying his unease.
"Hmm, I understand. So, you resorted to destroying multiple villages to lure him out," the undead being mused, its gaze piercing.
Then came the unexpected question, one that puzzled Nigun even in his dire situation. "Now tell me, mortal, who taught humanity tier magic?"
Nigun's brow furrowed in confusion at the sudden shift in topic. Was this undead being unaware of such fundamental knowledge, or was there something more sinister at play? Regardless, Nigun knew better than to provoke the lich further.
"The Six Great Gods that descended on earth 600 years ago introduced tier magic," Nigun answered quickly, trying to keep his voice steady despite the unease creeping through him. "But 100 years later, it was spread by the Eight Greed Kings."
The lich nodded, seemingly satisfied with the response. However, a lingering sense of uncertainty hung in the air, as if there were deeper secrets yet to be uncovered in this encounter.
Ainz pondered Nigun's words, the revelation about the ancient gods and kings stirring a sense of curiosity within him.
"So, these six gods and greed kings were players like myself, but from 600 years ago..." Ainz mused aloud, his thoughts drifting through the annals of history.
"Are any of these six still among the living?" Ainz inquired, his gaze unwavering as he awaited Nigun's response.
"N-no," Nigun replied, his voice tinged with apprehension. "Five of the Six Great Gods departed to the afterlife, and their leader, the God of Death Surshan, remained behind as an undead to protect humanity."
Nigun's fear of the powerful undead was palpable, driving him to speak the truth without hesitation or embellishment. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on him, knowing that deceit could have dire consequences in the presence of such formidable power.
Ainz processed the information, nodding to himself as he formulated his understanding. "The five of them must have been mortal humans who passed away due to old age," he concluded internally.
Turning his attention back to Nigun, Ainz posed another question. "Is this undead still in power within the Slane Theocracy?"
Nigun shook his head. "No, the God of Death Surshana was defeated by the Eight Greed Kings."
"The Eight Greed Kings..." Ainz repeated, his curiosity piqued. "You mentioned them earlier. Who were they exactly?"
Nigun explained, "They emerged onto the scene around 500 years ago. They not only vanquished Lord Surshana but also nearly exterminated the Dragon Lords. Subsequently, they seized control of the world. However, their reign was short-lived due to their insatiable greed for power, which led them to turn against each other until none remained."
Ainz couldn't help but scoff inwardly at the irony. "What foolishness. So, that's why they earned the title 'Greed Kings'," he mused silently.
Ainz's curiosity continued to drive his inquiries. "Did these Eight Greed Kings have a base of operations or a stronghold?" he asked, intrigued by the details.
Nigun nodded, confirming, "Yes, their base was Eryuentiu, a flying castle situated in the southern desert. However, it's now guarded by the Platinum Dragon Lord."
"So, they arrived with their guild," Ainz thought to himself, drawing parallels between their situation and the past events. So why didn't Nazarick come with him?
As Ainz delved deeper into the conversation, his curiosity piqued by the history laid out before him, he urged Nigun to continue.
"Tell me more, human," Ainz requested, his tone carrying a hint of genuine interest.
Nigun, though intimidated by Ainz's presence, complied without hesitation. "Of course, my lord. Two centuries ago, the Demon Gods emerged, plunging the world into chaos and destruction until they were eventually vanquished by the Thirteen Heroes."
Ainz, intrigued by this snippet of history, proceeded to ask Nigun more questions, each query met with prompt and detailed responses from the commander of the Sunlight Scripture. The conversation continued, with Nigun offering insights into the world's past struggles, battles, and legendary figures, all while Ainz absorbed the information with keen interest.
"Can I go now, my lord?" Nigun's voice trembled with fear, his words barely audible.
Ainz observed Nigun's trembling form, his expression impassive as the commander pleaded for his life.
"Hmm... did I give you any indication that I would spare you?" Ainz's tone was calm, devoid of any remorse or hesitation.
"But I—" Nigun attempted to plead further, only to be abruptly cut off by Ainz.
"It would be unwise to let you leave here alive. Your fate is sealed." Ainz remarked, his hand raised, preparing to unleash his deadly magic.
"P-please, I won't breathe a word to anyone," Nigun pleaded desperately.
However, before Nigun could finish his sentence, Ainz's spell took effect.
"[Grasp Heart]."
In an instant, Nigun's body slumped to the ground, lifeless. Ainz observed the fallen commander with detached curiosity, his expression betraying little emotion as he processed the aftermath of his decision.
Ainz raised his skeletal hand once more, this time channeling powerful necromantic magic. With a surge of dark energy, Nigun's lifeless body began to convulse and transform, undergoing a macabre metamorphosis into a new form.
Before Ainz stood the newly created High Tier Undead, a Crypt Lord. This undead being stood tall at 195cm, clad in a once magnificent but now tattered purple robe. Adorning its skull was a crown, its radiance contrasting sharply against the gloomy surroundings.
The Crypt Lord's eyes, now empty sockets filled with dark magic, turned towards Ainz as it awaited its master's commands, a silent guardian forged from the remnants of Nigun's mortal form.
The Crypt Lord bowed deeply before its master, its loyalty unwavering as it pledged its readiness to serve.
"My Lord, I am at your command," the Crypt Lord intoned respectfully.
Ainz nodded, pleased with the obedience of his newly created undead servant. "I want all of you to gather their money, items, and any other valuables," he commanded.
The Death Knights swiftly carried out their orders, diligently collecting everything of value from the fallen members of the Sunlight Scripture and presenting their spoils before their master.
Ainz surveyed the amassed wealth, a mix of gold, silver, and copper coins, a sight that brought a satisfied smile to his skeletal visage. With this haul, financial worries would be a thing of the past for a considerable time.
As he examined the items, only one caught his interest—the spell-sealing crystal. The rest were deemed unworthy of his attention, but Ainz still stowed them away in his inventory. They might fetch a decent price when sold, after all.
Later, Ainz and his Death Knights returned to the village. The sight of their savior brought joy and relief to the villagers, who had anxiously awaited his return.
"I have destroyed the enemy. You have no reason to fear anymore," Ainz announced, his voice echoing with authority.
The villagers, overwhelmed with gratitude, bowed deeply, their hands folded in gestures of prayer and reverence. To them, this undead being was not just a hero but a divine protector. From that moment forward, they pledged to worship him with unwavering devotion.
"My lord, the people of this village will always remain loyal to you!" declared the village chief, tears of joy streaming down his face.
"I'm pleased with your loyalty," Ainz responded, his tone conveying both satisfaction and a sense of benevolent authority as he accepted their adoration.
Ainz turned to address his Death Knights, his gaze steady and commanding. "Death Knights, you will remain here and protect this village. Crypt Lord, you will act as their commander," he instructed. "Stay hidden when the tax collectors and adventurers visit, and begin constructing a wall around the village to ensure you remain unseen from a distance."
"It will be done, my lord," the Crypt Lord replied, bowing deeply in acknowledgment of the order.
Satisfied with his arrangements, Ainz nodded. "Good. Now I can leave this place," he thought, confident in the security and future of the village under the vigilant watch of his undead minions.
As Ainz prepared to leave, he noticed two little girls approaching him. He recalled seeing them mourning the villagers' deaths earlier and surmised that they must have lost their parents.
"Lord Ainz, are you leaving?" asked the older girl, her voice tinged with worry. She was a 10-year-old with blonde hair and brown eyes, dressed in simple woolen clothes. Behind her stood a smaller girl with reddish-brown hair and brown eyes.
"Yes, I must leave for a while, little one," Ainz replied gently.
"But the bad knight who killed Papa and Mama might come back," she said, her voice trembling with fear.
Ainz knelt down to meet her eyes and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Do not worry, little one. My knights will stay here to protect you all."
The older girl's eyes brightened with hope and gratitude. "Thank you very much, Lord Ainz. You are a merciful God."
Ainz was taken aback by the title. A God? He hadn't expected to be seen in such a light. The weight of their adoration was both surprising and humbling. Still, he maintained his composed demeanor, understanding the weight of the responsibility and the hope he now embodied for these villagers.
"What is your name?" Ainz asked, gently patting the older girl's head.
"My name is Enri Emmot, and this is my little sister, Nemu," she replied, her voice filled with both respect and a hint of newfound hope.
Ainz nodded, then reached into his robes and produced a set of items. "I will give you these. They are called the Horns of the Goblin General. If you blow them, Goblins—small monsters—will appear. You can command them to protect you."
To Ainz, these items were trivial, almost forgotten amidst his vast collection. Yet now, they seemed perfectly suited to provide the protection the villagers needed.
"Thank you very much, my lord!" Enri exclaimed, her gratitude evident in her voice.
"Think nothing of it, child," Ainz replied, patting both their heads with a rare gentleness. "Use them wisely, and stay safe."
After the girls had returned home, Ainz summoned the Crypt Lord.
"How can this one serve you, my lord?" the Crypt Lord inquired, bowing deeply.
"Crypt Lord, I want you to ensure the protection of those two sisters," Ainz commanded.
"The two girls to whom you gifted your treasures, my lord?" the Crypt Lord confirmed.
"Correct. Additionally, I want you to train all the villagers to become stronger, particularly those two sisters," Ainz continued.
"Did you notice something unusual about the sisters, my lord?" the Crypt Lord asked, curiosity piqued.
"I can't say for certain, but I believe they might prove beneficial to me in the future," Ainz replied thoughtfully.
"I see. Truly, you are wise, my lord. It shall be done," the Crypt Lord affirmed, placing his right hand on his chest and bowing his head.
"Now, I will leave," Ainz declared.
"P-Please wait, my lord," the Crypt Lord interjected. "Wouldn't it be better to create more servants to protect you on your journey? There are many corpses around the village."
Ainz was momentarily taken aback by the Crypt Lord's concern for his safety. "No, it's better to travel alone. Don't worry, Crypt Lord. If things get dangerous, I will use teleportation magic to return here."
"Ri-right, I didn't consider that. Then, my lord, I wish you a safe adventure," the Crypt Lord responded, understanding.
"Umu," Ainz acknowledged, before setting off on his journey, leaving the village under the vigilant watch of his undead minions.