3,407Ainz left the village, his mind filled with thoughts of his next destination. As he walked along the dusty road, he pondered the possibilities ahead.
"I think I should go to the capital," he muttered to himself, the idea solidifying in his mind. E-Rantel, a city fortress, held little appeal for him. It was a strategic location, but it lacked the allure of the bustling capital Nigun had described. A massive city teeming with life and activity, the capital promised opportunities for gathering information and exploring the adventurers guild.
The adventurers guild, in particular, intrigued him. It was a place where heroes and mercenaries gathered, a hub of knowledge and power. If he could infiltrate it, he might uncover valuable information and perhaps even recruit powerful individuals to his cause.
But there was a significant problem. Ainz was an undead, and his kind was despised and feared in human society. Walking into the capital as he was would undoubtedly cause panic and hostility.
Ainz flew for three days until he reached the outskirts of the capital. The city's towering walls and bustling streets stretched out before him, a testament to the grandeur and complexity of human civilization in this magical fantasy world. The sight stirred a sense of curiosity and anticipation within him.
To avoid drawing too much attention, Ainz had swapped his magic caster robes for a jet-black body armor. It was far less conspicuous than his more powerful, menacing armor, which resembled the cruel design of Touch Me's battle gear. The simpler armor allowed him to blend in while still maintaining an air of mystery and intimidation.
As he approached the city gates, Ainz observed the bustling activity around him. Merchants haggled over prices, children played in the streets, and travelers of all sorts moved in and out of the city. The air was filled with the sounds of a thriving metropolis.
Ainz moved confidently toward the city guards. His presence immediately drew attention, with citizens stopping to stare at the imposing figure in the unusual armor. As he passed, the murmurs of the townspeople reached his ears.
"Who is that?"
"Look at his armor... never seen anything like it."
"A Dark Warrior, they say."
Ainz allowed a small, satisfied smile to grace his skeletal face beneath the helmet. The title suited his current persona and added to the mystique he aimed to cultivate.
Ainz felt a wave of disappointment wash over him as he surveyed the capital. The roads were unpaved and filthy, a stark contrast to the grandeur he had envisioned. He approached a young man selling vegetables at a roadside stall, hoping for some directions.
"Excuse me, sir, can you tell me the direction to the adventurers guild?" asked Ainz, his voice deep and resonant.
"Of-of course, sir!" the young man stammered, clearly taken aback by Ainz's impressive armor. To him, the dark warrior's gear looked incredibly expensive, suggesting nobility. However, unlike many nobles of the Kingdom, this warrior didn't carry himself with an air of arrogance. The young man respectfully provided the directions to the adventurers' guild.
Ainz nodded his thanks and set off. He walked with purpose, ignoring the surprised stares and murmurs from the townspeople. His imposing presence and the mysterious allure of his armor drew many curious glances, but no one dared to approach him directly.
Upon reaching the adventurers guild, Ainz pushed open the heavy wooden doors and stepped inside. The lively atmosphere immediately enveloped him. The first thing he noticed was the welcoming smiles of the three guild receptionists, who were busy greeting adventurers as they entered.
Scanning the room, Ainz observed a diverse group of individuals. There were warriors in full plate armor, their weapons gleaming under the indoor lighting. Nimble fellows in light armor, likely rogues or rangers, bore bows and daggers. A few people dressed in priests' garb, adorned with various holy symbols, chatted quietly amongst themselves. Robed arcane magic casters with their staves stood in small groups, discussing spells and strategies.
The adventurers guild was a bustling hub of activity, a microcosm of the adventuring world. It was precisely what Ainz had hoped for—a place where he could gather information, form alliances, and perhaps even recruit powerful individuals to his cause.
Ainz moved forward to the counter, feeling the weight of countless eyes on him. The stares of the adventurers around him were piercing, and he felt a flicker of annoyance. Ignoring the onlookers, he focused on the receptionist.
"Hello, I would like to apply as an adventurer," he said, his voice calm but firm.
The receptionist, a young woman with a professional demeanor, smiled warmly at Ainz. "Of course. What is your name?"
"My name is Momon," Ainz replied, choosing his alias carefully.
"Mh, and how old are you?" she asked, jotting down notes.
"22 years old," Ainz replied smoothly, though he thought to himself, "Well, I'm actually much older, but whatever."
"Good," the receptionist continued, "Now here is your copper plate. At the moment, there are no available jobs for a copper plate rank, so you can go and hunt monsters in the forest. Bring back their ears or other identifiable body parts as proof of your kills, and you will be rewarded."
"I see, thank you," Ainz responded, taking the copper plate from her.
As he examined the plate, he mused, "So if I bring back many monster parts, I might raise my rank to iron or silver... But why body parts, though? It feels primitive." He shrugged off the thought and turned to leave, aware that this was a system he would have to navigate for now.
As he walked out of the guild, the murmurs of the adventurers followed him. They were clearly curious about the enigmatic dark warrior. Ignoring the buzz of whispers, Ainz made his way toward the forest, his mind already planning his next steps.
The path to higher ranks seemed straightforward—kill monsters, collect their parts, and bring them back for rewards. It was a task he was more than capable of handling.
As he approached the edge of the forest, Ainz's thoughts were interrupted by the rustling of leaves and the distant calls of wildlife.
It didn't take long before Ainz spotted a horde of goblins in the forest. They were armed with swords, bows, and axes, accompanied by five hulking ogres wielding massive clubs. Their aggressive demeanor and coordinated movement suggested they were preparing to attack a nearby village.
Ainz stepped out in front of them, his presence commanding attention. The goblins' eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the dark warrior. To them, he looked like a formidable monster, but their initial shock quickly turned into confidence. They believed their numbers, bolstered by the five ogres, would ensure their victory. After all, the warrior was alone, and they had strength in numbers.
The goblins advanced towards Ainz with malicious grins, while others began to shoot arrows at him. Ainz remained still, allowing the arrows to hit his armor. The projectiles bounced off harmlessly, not even scratching the surface.
Seeing no reason to prolong the encounter, Ainz drew his two greatswords. With swift, precise movements, he began decapitating the goblins nearest to him. The goblins who had been shooting arrows tried to flee, but they were too slow. They barely registered their deaths as Ainz's blades cut them down effortlessly.
In a matter of moments, Ainz reached the ogres. Each swing of his greatswords cleaved through their thick hides and heavy muscles, splitting them in half with ease. The ogres, despite their size and strength, stood no chance. The battle was over in less than a minute, leaving a scene of utter devastation in its wake.
Ainz calmly surveyed the battlefield, the bodies of goblins and ogres strewn about. Satisfied, he reached into his inventory and pulled out a bag. This bag was a magic item, capable of holding a vast number of objects without appearing full—much like his own inventory.
He methodically began to collect the proof of his kills. He severed ears, hands, and other identifiable body parts from the fallen goblins and ogres, placing them into the bag. The task was grim, but necessary for his goals. As he worked, he mused on the primitive nature of the adventurers guild's system, yet he understood the practicality behind it. Proof of kills ensured rewards and advancements.
While Ainz was collecting the body parts of the goblins and ogres, he heard heavy footsteps approaching from behind. He turned his head to see who was coming, his skeletal face hidden behind his dark helmet.
"My lucky day," Ainz murmured to himself.
Standing before him were ten giant creatures, each more hideous than the last. They had long noses, elongated ears, and grotesque features that made them look like nightmares given form. One of them, however, stood out from the rest. This creature was a towering, muscular figure clad in clothes made from animal skins and wielding a magical greatsword.
"That guy is a War Troll, so he must be their commander," Ainz thought, analyzing the situation with his keen intellect.
The War Troll stepped forward, his presence imposing, and spoke in a deep, gravelly voice. "Who are you that dares to come into my territory and kill my subordinates?"
Ainz, under the guise of the dark warrior Momon, replied confidently, "I am Momon."
The War Troll snorted, a mocking grin spreading across his grotesque face. "Hoo, so you don't have a cowardly name as many humans do."
Ainz was momentarily confused. "You mean people with long names are cowards?"
"That's right," the War Troll declared proudly. "I, Zugo, the King of this forest, have a strong name. Those who have long names are cowards and weak."
Ainz couldn't help but smirk under his helmet. "Being a coward does not mean being weak. Even that egg brain of yours should understand that."
Zugo's eyes flashed with anger, but he forced a smile. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that. Human, I, Zugo, will let you go only if you give me your greatswords."
Ainz chuckled, the sound echoing eerily through the forest. "And what makes you think I would agree to such a ridiculous demand?"
"Because if you don't, I'll rip you apart and take them myself," Zugo growled, baring his sharp teeth in a menacing grin.
"I refuse," Ainz said firmly, his voice carrying through the clearing.
"Then die, human scum! — Guoooohhh!"
Zugo raised his magical sword, intending to strike down the dark warrior. Despite his speed for a troll, Zugo's movements were sluggish compared to Ainz's reflexes. In the split second before the blade would have connected, Ainz deftly countered the attack with his greatsword.
Zugo's eyes widened in disbelief as he felt his arm fall to the ground, severed by Ainz's swift and precise strike.
"GAAAAAAAHH!" Zugo screamed in agony, clutching his bleeding stump.
"You bark so much, yet you're nothing but a weakling," the dark warrior remarked with annoyance, his tone dripping with disdain.
"How-how did you do it?" Zugo asked, his voice trembling with pain and shock.
"Isn't it obvious? You're no match for me," Ainz replied coldly.
"BA-BASTARD, I WILL EAT YOU ALIVE!" Zugo roared in fury, his remaining arm swinging wildly.
But Ainz was already moving, anticipating Zugo's attack. With a fluid motion, he dodged the erratic punch and swiftly brought down his greatsword, cleaving through Zugo's neck and ending the War Troll's life with a single decisive strike.
The other trolls, witnessing the death of their leader and the ease with which the dark warrior dispatched him, were frozen in fear. They knew they stood no chance against such a formidable opponent and wanted nothing more than to flee.
"How boring," Ainz muttered, surveying the scene of carnage around him.
Activating his Despair Aura at level 5, Ainz cast a powerful magical effect that sent waves of overwhelming despair through the remaining trolls. Unable to withstand the crushing weight of despair, they collapsed to the ground like puppets with their strings cut, completely defeated.
"This does not feel like an adventure," Ainz remarked to himself, his expression hidden behind his helmet. "Oh well, I suppose this will suffice for today."
He collected the head of Zugo and the ears of the other trolls, stowing them in his magic bag. With his grisly trophies in tow, Ainz turned and made his way back to the city, leaving behind the defeated trolls and the forest of despair.
As Ainz entered the bustling city, his towering figure draped in jet-black armor drew the attention of every passerby. His skeletal face, adorned with a regal expression, remained impassive despite the surprised faces of the citizens. It was a common occurrence for him—his presence often invoked a mixture of fear, awe, and curiosity among the people.
Making his way through the crowded streets, Ainz finally arrived at the Adventures Guild, its sturdy doors swinging open with a creak as he pushed them aside. Inside, the atmosphere was lively, filled with the chatter of adventurers exchanging stories and seeking new quests.
Among the adventurers were two distinct figures—Gagaran and Evileye of the renowned adamantite team Blue Rose. Gagaran, a muscular woman with a mane of blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, exuded strength and confidence. Beside her stood Evileye, a short and mysterious figure cloaked in a reddish robe, her face hidden behind a mask.
The moment Ainz stepped in, the attention of the guild members shifted towards him. Whispers and murmurs filled the air as they tried to discern the identity of the armored figure.
"Hey, shorty," Gagaran's boisterous voice rang out, breaking the silence, "that armor of yours looks incredible! What do you think he's carrying in that bag?"
Evileye, ever observant, narrowed her eyes as she took in Ainz's appearance. "I'm not sure, Gagaran," she replied in a hushed tone, "but there's a distinct scent of blood emanating from that bag. It's... unsettling."
The armored warrior approached the receptionist, his presence commanding attention as he brought the bag to the counter and opened it without hesitation.
"Here you have body parts of goblins, ogres, trolls, and oh, this is the head of a war troll," the dark warrior announced calmly, displaying the gruesome contents of his bag.
The receptionist and the gathered adventurers were stunned, their expressions a mix of shock and awe. How could someone single-handedly defeat so many formidable monsters in such a short span of time?
"D-Did you just kill them all by yourself?" the receptionist stammered, her voice betraying her disbelief.
The dark warrior nodded, his tone matter-of-fact. "Yeah, I'm new here, so I don't have any friends," he replied casually, as if slaying monsters were a routine occurrence for him.
The murmurs and whispers among the adventurers grew louder, the news of this lone warrior's exploits spreading quickly through the guild. Some were impressed by his strength and skill, while others eyed him warily, wary of the potential threat he posed.
''I-Is that so...''
''Can I have my payment now?'' he continued, his request straightforward and to the point.
The receptionist nodded, still somewhat taken aback by the turn of events. ''Please wait a moment, I will call the guild master,'' she replied before hurrying off to summon the higher authority.
As he waited, Ainz couldn't help but muse to himself, This world must have a pretty low standard for power. I hope I'm not in trouble. He observed the reactions of the other adventurers in the room, noting the mix of curiosity, admiration, and perhaps a hint of wariness in their gazes.
"Oi, shorty," Gagaran's voice cut through the murmurs, addressing Evileye. "That guy looks pretty strong. Killing a war troll and several other trolls alone is not easy. I don't think I would be able to kill them all alone."
Evileye nodded in agreement. "Indeed, he looks really strong," she commented, her eyes lingering on Ainz as if trying to discern more about him.
Just then, the guild master arrived, a woman around 40 years old with an air of authority. "Hello, I am the guild master. Are you sir Momon?" she addressed Ainz directly, her tone respectful yet professional.
"Yes, nice to meet you, ma'am. Is there a problem?" Ainz responded politely, maintaining his composed demeanor.
"I am here to promote you to platinum rank, since you have already proven yourself capable of such achievements," the guild master announced, her words causing a collective gasp of surprise among the gathered adventurers, including members of Blue Rose.
"Oh, nice!" Ainz thought to himself, a small sense of satisfaction creeping into his thoughts.
The sudden promotion from copper to platinum rank on his first day as an adventurer was indeed remarkable, and it left many in the room astonished.
"Here is your platinum plate," the guild master began, handing Ainz the prestigious symbol of his newfound rank. "The receptionist will give your payment shortly."
Before Ainz could acknowledge her, the guild's atmosphere shifted abruptly. The heavy doors swung open with a loud bang, revealing a city guard in a state of palpable distress. His breath came in ragged gasps, and his eyes were wide with urgency.
"A frost wyvern is attacking the city! Please, help us!" the guard's voice boomed through the guild hall, sending a ripple of alarm through the gathered adventurers.
Without a moment's hesitation, the guild master sprang into action. "Everyone, let's go!" she commanded, her authoritative voice cutting through the chaos as the adventurers scrambled to respond to the imminent threat.
"S-Sir Momon, we need your help too," the guild master addressed Ainz, her voice tinged with a mix of reverence and urgency, recognizing his newly elevated status and formidable prowess.
"Certainly," Ainz replied calmly, his resolve unwavering as he prepared to confront the wyvern menace.
As the guild's seasoned adventurers rushed out to confront the wyvern, Ainz, now known as Momon, moved with purpose and determination. Despite the weight and bulk of his jet-black armor, he moved with surprising agility and speed, leaving onlookers in awe of his capabilities.
"How can this man run so fast with all that armor on his body?" murmured one of the onlookers, voicing the collective astonishment that rippled through the guild hall.
The chaos and destruction wrought by the Frost Wyvern sent shockwaves of panic through the city. Ainz watched with a mixture of concern and curiosity as Gagaran, driven by her fierce determination, launched herself into battle against the monstrous creature.
"What is she doing?" Ainz couldn't help but wonder, noting the recklessness of her solitary attack against such a formidable foe.
As Gagaran's war pick arced towards the wyvern's head, Ainz tensed, expecting a swift and decisive strike. However, the Frost Wyvern proved to be quicker than anticipated, lashing out with its tail and sending Gagaran hurtling through the air, crashing into a nearby building.
The sudden turn of events drew gasps and shouts of concern from the onlookers, including Lakyus, whose cry of alarm echoed through the chaos.
GAGARAN!"
[Dark Blade Mega Impact] [Crystal Dagger]
Ainz's attention shifted to Lakyus, taking note of her distinctive dark sword and floating swords—relics that triggered memories of his time in YGGDRASIL. However, even her formidable attacks, like the Dark Blade Mega Impact and Crystal Dagger, proved futile against the wyvern's formidable defenses.
The Frost Wyvern's icy breath swept through the battlefield, freezing both city guards and adventurers alike in its chilling embrace. Ainz grimaced as he witnessed the tragic toll of the creature's rampage, the frozen statues of the fallen serving as grim reminders of its lethal power.
"Even Blue Rose can't defeat that monster," a city guard's desperate shout underscored the dire situation, instilling a sense of impending doom among those caught in the wyvern's icy onslaught.
Ainz stood amidst the chaos, his crimson eyes scanning the battlefield with a mix of concern and determination. The sight before him was grim—a scene of devastation and despair as the Frost Wyvern wreaked havoc upon the city, its icy breath freezing everything in its path.
The adventurers fought valiantly, their courage evident as they faced off against the monstrous wyvern. Yet, despite their best efforts, their attacks seemed futile against the creature's immense strength and resilient defenses. Ainz couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment as he watched them struggle, their weapons and spells appearing feeble in comparison to the colossal threat they faced.
"These adventurers... They look like children holding sticks," Ainz thought to himself, a tinge of sadness coloring his thoughts. He reflected on how different the outcome might have been if players from YGGDRASIL hadn't arrived in this world ages ago. The human race might have perished long ago under the onslaught of such powerful monsters.
"Well, I think it's time to end this party," Ainz spoke aloud, his voice calm but resolute.
"Eh?" The guild master's confusion was palpable as she looked at the dark warrior, unsure of his intentions.
"S-Sir Momon, that monster is too strong. You cannot fight him alone," she protested, concern etched on her face.
"Do not worry about me, guild master. You must go and protect the citizens," Ainz reassured her, his tone unwavering.
With each step, Ainz's figure exuded a sense of majesty and determination, reminiscent of the legendary heroes from tales of old—those who stood against the forces of darkness to protect the weak and vanquish evil.
"What the hell is he thinking!" Evileye muttered under her breath, her gaze fixed on Ainz's retreating form.
The Frost Wyvern loomed menacingly over the city, its icy scales shimmering in the sunlight as it surveyed the chaos it had wrought. Buildings lay in ruins, and the terrified screams of the citizens echoed through the streets. It seemed unstoppable, a force of nature unleashed upon the unsuspecting populace.
Amidst the chaos, a figure clad in jet-black armor approached the monstrous wyvern with an air of confidence that bordered on audacity. It was Momon the Black, a name that had quickly spread throughout the adventurer community as a formidable warrior.
As Momon drew closer, his crimson gaze locked onto the Frost Wyvern's fiery eyes. The creature tensed, ready to unleash its deadly icy breath at any moment. Yet, the dark warrior remained undeterred, his posture calm and collected despite the imminent danger.
"Hey there, lizard," Momon's voice rang out boldly, cutting through the cacophony of destruction. "I am Momon the Black. Can you stop this little rampage of yours?"
The onlookers gasped in disbelief. Did he just call the fearsome Frost Wyvern a "lizard"? Such brazenness was unheard of, especially when facing a creature of such immense power.
The Frost Wyvern, initially taken aback by the unexpected address, quickly grew incensed. "I do what I want, human," it roared, its voice thundering through the air like a winter storm. "And how dare you call me like that! Do you have a death wish?"
Momon's gaze remained steady, unwavering in the face of the wyvern's fury. "I can call you what I want," he replied calmly, his tone carrying a hint of amusement.
The Frost Wyvern could not believe how this human was mocking him. He wanted to unleash his ice breath...no, that would be a merciful death.
As the Frost Wyvern's strike connected with the dark warrior, the impact reverberated through the air, sending shockwaves rippling across the battleground. Dust and debris billowed up, momentarily obscuring the view of the combatants. The adventurers and citizens who had gathered to witness the battle held their breath, their eyes wide with anticipation and fear.
As the dust settled, the scene that unfolded left everyone stunned. Standing amidst the debris was the dark warrior, seemingly unscathed by the powerful blow of the Frost Wyvern. His jet-black armor gleamed faintly in the sunlight, a stark contrast to the chaos around him.
The Frost Wyvern, initially smirking in satisfaction at his attack, now wore a mask of shock and disbelief. "Impossible!" he bellowed, his voice echoing across the battlefield. "How can a mere human possess such strength?"
The dark warrior, known as Momon the Black, remained silent, his gaze unwavering as he gripped the wyvern's leg with one hand. The monstrous creature thrashed and writhed in agony, his scales cracking under the pressure of Momon's powerful grip.
"Let me go, you damn bastard!" the Frost Wyvern roared, his voice laced with pain and fury. "Release me!"
Momon's expression remained impassive as he continued to apply pressure, causing the wyvern to howl in agony. The surrounding adventurers and onlookers watched in awe and trepidation, witnessing a battle of titanic proportions.
In a last-ditch effort to free himself, the Frost Wyvern unleashed his icy breath, aiming the freezing blast directly at Momon. The frozen air crackled with power as it surged toward the dark warrior.
The Frost Wyvern's anger and confusion surged as he looked upon the dark warrior, who stood before him unharmed and seemingly unfazed by the powerful ice-breath attack. The wyvern's deformed leg throbbed with pain, a stark reminder of the dark warrior's formidable strength.
The dark warrior, Momon the Black, regarded the Frost Wyvern with a calm demeanor, his crimson eyes reflecting a hint of amusement at the wyvern's astonishment. "Hmm, I feel fresh, thank you for that," he replied casually, his voice carrying an air of confidence that belied his human form.
"How are you... What the hell are you?!" the Frost Wyvern barked, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and disbelief.
The surrounding adventurers and onlookers watched in awe and trepidation, their gazes shifting between the monstrous Frost Wyvern and the enigmatic dark warrior who had bested him. Whispers and murmurs spread through the crowd, speculating about Momon's origins and abilities.
"He's no ordinary human, that's for sure."
"Could he be a legendary hero?"
"I've never seen anyone like him before."
"This is your last chance, lizard," the dark warrior's voice echoed with an otherworldly resonance, cutting through the tense silence like a blade. "Leave, and you may yet live."
The wyvern's response was a deafening roar that shook the very earth beneath their feet. "NEVER! I WILL NEVER RUN AWAY FROM A HUMAN!" Its voice reverberated with primal fury, wings beating against the air as it prepared to unleash its full wrath.
"I see," the dark warrior's tone remained calm, almost detached. "So this is your decision."
With a sudden blur of movement, the dark warrior launched himself into the air with inhuman speed. He seemed to vanish from sight, leaving the onlookers momentarily bewildered. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd as they strained to catch a glimpse of the unfolding battle.
"Whe-Where did he go?!" shouted Evileye, a powerful sorceress who had come to witness the clash of titans.
"LOOK!" Tia, a seasoned warrior with keen eyesight, pointed a trembling finger at the scene unfolding before them.
High above, the dark warrior reappeared, perched atop the wyvern's massive head. His twin swords gleamed wickedly in the light as he raised them high, poised to strike. In that split second, time seemed to slow as anticipation hung heavy in the air.
Then, with a swift and decisive motion, the dark warrior brought his blades down in a deadly arc. The sound of steel meeting flesh echoed across the battlefield as the wyvern's head was severed from its body. For a moment, the monstrous creature staggered, its eyes wide with disbelief, before crashing to the ground in a thunderous impact.
In the aftermath of Momon the Black's heroic feat, the plaza buzzed with excitement and awe. The adventurers and city guards, who had moments ago stood in stunned silence, now found their voices in a chorus of admiration and respect.
"UUUOOOOO A HERO!" A lone voice pierced the air, igniting a spark of enthusiasm that quickly spread like wildfire.
The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, fists raised triumphantly as they chanted the name of their savior, "Momon! Momon! Momon!" It was a thunderous symphony of gratitude and reverence, a testament to the impact of Momon's actions on the city and its people.
"AMAZING!"
"SO POWERFUL!"
The exclamations rang out from every corner of the plaza, mingling with the fervent cheers. Faces were alight with admiration, eyes shimmering with tears of relief and gratitude. Momon had not only defeated the mighty Frost Wyvern Lord but had also restored hope and faith in the hearts of the citizens.
Among the crowd, Evileye watched with a mix of wonder and contemplation. As a seasoned adventurer and sorceress, she had witnessed her fair share of heroic deeds and formidable foes. Yet, Momon's display of power and skill had left an indelible impression on her.
"He is far more powerful than the leader of the 13 heroes," Evileye mused to herself, her mind racing with thoughts and questions. "He may be even on par with the Platinum Dragon Lord."
The mention of these revered figures spoke volumes about Momon's standing in the realm. The 13 heroes, renowned for their valor and sacrifices, were considered legends in their own right. To surpass their leader in prowess was a feat few could even dream of achieving. And to be compared to the enigmatic Platinum Dragon Lord, a being of ancient wisdom and unparalleled strength, was a testament to Momon's unfathomable capabilities.
The sun hung low on the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the bustling streets of the city as a group of soldiers approached. At their head rode a man of imposing stature, his muscular frame and confident demeanor marking him as a seasoned warrior. His name was Gazef Stronoff, Warrior Captain of the Re-Estize Kingdom, and he had come to meet the enigmatic hero known as Momon the Black.
Dismounting from his horse with a fluid grace, Gazef strode forward to where Momon stood, his dark armor gleaming in the fading light. The two warriors regarded each other with a mutual respect, recognizing the strength and skill that each possessed.
"Master Momon," Gazef began, his voice carrying the weight of authority tempered with genuine admiration. "I am Gazef Stronoff, and I witnessed your battle with that monstrous wyvern. You truly are a hero, and on behalf of the king, I thank you for your valor and bravery."
Momon inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, his expression unreadable behind the visor of his helm. "I just did my job, Master Stronoff," he replied humbly. "Saving someone in need is simply common sense."
Gazef chuckled softly, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Wise words indeed, Master Momon. Your actions speak volumes of your character. Now, if you'll excuse me," Gazef continued, "I must attend to some reports and deliver them to His Majesty."
As Gazef turned to leave with his troops, Momon couldn't help but notice the aura of strength and determination that surrounded the seasoned warrior. "So this is the man that the Sunlight Scripture was trying to kill," He couldn't help but acknowledge Gazef's strength as a warrior, but at the same time, Momon knew the vast difference in power between them. In his mind, even a Death Knight could easily overpower someone like Gazef.
"Thank you for your service, Sir Momon," the guildmaster's voice carried a note of genuine gratitude. "You have done so much for us, and tonight, in recognition of your valor and dedication, you will be promoted to adamantite rank."
Ainz, hidden behind the mask of Momon, couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction at the announcement. "Woah, cool," he thought to himself, inwardly amused by the reactions he garnered in his guise as a legendary hero.
The adventurers, though not surprised by Momon's promotion, nodded in approval and respect. They had witnessed firsthand the extent of his power and skill, and they believed him to be not just on par with other adamantite teams but possibly even surpassing them. The mention of surpassing Gazef Stronoff, the renowned Warrior Captain, only solidified their belief in Momon's capabilities.
"I just did what was right," Momon replied with a modest nod, "but now we need to help the wounded people." His focus remained on the task at hand, his sense of duty unwavering even in the midst of celebration.
The guildmaster, recognizing the urgency of Momon's words, wasted no time in issuing orders. "Didn't y'all hear what the hero said? Let's get to work," she commanded, her tone firm yet compassionate.
"YES MA'AM!" The response was immediate and resounding as the adventurers sprang into action. Healing potions were distributed, makeshift triage areas were set up, and the wounded were attended to with care and skill.
Ro Lente Castle
As Gazef Stronoff, the esteemed Warrior Captain of the Re-Estize Kingdom, and his Vice Captain made their way to the throne room, they were met with mixed reactions from the gathered nobles. Some regarded them with respect and admiration, recognizing their valor and dedication to the kingdom. Others, however, looked upon the warriors with thinly veiled disdain, their expressions tinged with jealousy and skepticism.
Upon entering the grand throne room, Gazef and his Vice Captain knelt before King Ramposa III, the ruler of the kingdom. The king's countenance was one of contentment, pleased to see his trusted aide returned safely from a mission that carried great significance for the realm.
"My Warrior Captain," King Ramposa III spoke with a tone of warmth and appreciation, "I'm glad that you have returned uninjured from your mission."
Gazef bowed his head respectfully. "Thank you, my King," he replied with unwavering loyalty.
"Now tell me, Warrior Captain, how did your mission go?" The king's curiosity was evident as he leaned forward slightly on his throne, eager to hear the details.
Gazef took a deep breath, his gaze steady as he recounted the events of their mission. "During our journey, we encountered numerous villages that had fallen victim to the enemy's ruthless attacks," he began. "I made the decision to divert some of our troops to aid and protect the surviving villagers, while I led the remaining forces toward our main objective."
He paused briefly, collecting his thoughts before continuing. "Our path led us to Carne Village, Your Majesty. There, we discovered the aftermath of a fierce battle. Thirty knights, bearing armor from the Baharuth Empire, lay dead upon the ground."
The king's brow furrowed in concern. "And who, pray tell, was responsible for the demise of these knights?" His interest was piqued by Gazef's report.
"Your Majesty, I cannot say for certain," Gazef replied solemnly, his gaze unwavering. "The villagers recounted a tale of a dark deity, an entity of unknown origin, appearing amidst the chaos of battle. This deity, they claimed, single-handedly vanquished the enemy knights with terrifying efficiency."
King Ramposa III exchanged a glance with his advisors, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily upon them. The mention of a dark deity's intervention in mortal affairs was cause for both awe and concern. Such occurrences were rare and often heralded significant shifts in the delicate balance of power.
As Gazef Stronoff stood solemnly before King Ramposa III in the grand throne room, recounting the events of their mission, a murmur spread through the gathered nobles like a gentle breeze rustling through a field of wheat. Whispers and hushed conversations filled the air as the nobles exchanged comments and reactions to Gazef's report.
However, it was Marquis Boullope, a veteran noble with a heavily scarred face that spoke aloud, his voice carrying over the murmurs of the crowd. "Those stupid peasants will think that everyone who helps them is a god," he scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain and superiority.
The nobles around Marquis Boullope chuckled and smirked at his mocking words, joining in with their own jibes and derisive comments about the common folk and their beliefs. The atmosphere in the throne room turned light-hearted, the nobles reveling in their shared amusement at the expense of those they considered beneath them.
But their laughter was short-lived as King Ramposa III brought his staff down hard against the floor, the resounding thud echoing through the room like a thunderclap. The sudden sound silenced the laughter and drew all eyes to the king, his expression grave and commanding.
"Many innocent people of the kingdom have died," the king's voice was firm, carrying a weight of sorrow and rebuke. "Please, Marquis Boullope, do not speak in such a manner."
Marquis Boullope, taken aback by the king's stern reprimand, quickly composed himself and bowed his head in apology. "Forgive me, Your Majesty," he said humbly, realizing the error of his words.
Gazef watched the exchange with a mixture of discomfort and admiration. He was glad to see his king taking a stand for the dignity and respect of all citizens, regardless of their station in life. It was a reminder of the king's unwavering commitment to justice and compassion, traits that Gazef respected deeply.
"Warrior Captain who was this person that the villagers believe that he is a deity?" asked the king
"The villager said that he was an undead." said Gazef
The atmosphere in the throne room shifted from one of lightheartedness to one of incredulity and disbelief as Gazef Stronoff, the Warrior Captain, relayed the villagers' account of the supposed deity—an undead creature—intervening in the battle and saving lives. King Ramposa III's expression mirrored the shock evident on the faces of the assembled nobles.
"An undead creature saving the living... what kind of joke is this?" Marquis Boullope's voice rang out, his anger palpable as he voiced the sentiments of many in the room.
"I'm with Marquis Boullope on this one," another noble chimed in with a derisive snort, "those peasants are really stupid if they believe such nonsense."
The murmurs of disbelief and ridicule continued to ripple through the nobles until King Ramposa III brought the room to a standstill with another forceful strike of his staff against the floor.
"Enough!" The king's voice cut through the chatter like a blade. "Warrior Captain, do you believe the words of the villagers?"
Gazef met the king's gaze with unwavering conviction. "Your Majesty," he began, his tone steady and resolute, "there was undeniable evidence of a fierce battle at Carne Village. Blood and body parts littered the ground, the very earth soaked with the crimson testament of violence. The knights, members of the Baharuth Empire, were found brutally massacred, their armor and weapons scattered amidst the carnage."
The nobles, who had initially dismissed the villagers' account as absurdity, now listened with rapt attention as Gazef continued his report. His words painted a gruesome picture of the scene, a stark contrast to the nobles' earlier skepticism.
"Two hundred meters away from the village," Gazef's voice lowered slightly, his words carrying a weight of solemnity, "we discovered a chilling sight. Ninety-nine dead bodies, all of them bearing signs of a brutal and merciless slaughter. Limbs torn asunder, bodies mutilated beyond recognition."
A collective gasp went up from the nobles, their faces pale and eyes wide with shock. The notion of an undead creature not only protecting the villagers but also slaughtering imperial knights in such a savage manner was beyond their comprehension.
The king remained silent for a moment, his mind processing the gravity of Gazef's words. The implications of such an event were far-reaching and could have significant repercussions for the kingdom and its relations with neighboring powers.
"The citizens of the kingdom might think of this as a big joke," one of the nobles muttered, the unease in the room palpable.
King Ramposa III's gaze swept over the assembly, his expression grave yet determined. "We cannot dismiss this matter lightly," he declared, his voice commanding attention. "Gather more information, investigate thoroughly. We must uncover the truth behind this... undead savior."
Gazef Stronoff's words echoed in the throne room, carrying a weight of truth and revelation that sent ripples of unease through the gathered nobles.
"The bodies that were away from the village did not seem to be from the Empire," Gazef's voice held a tone of certainty, "they were from the Slane Theocracy."
The revelation that the bodies found away from Carne Village bore the crest of the Sunlight Scripture, agents of the Slane Theocracy, sent shockwaves through the throne room. King Ramposa III's brow furrowed in concern, his mind racing with questions and possibilities.
"And how can you be sure about that?" Marquis Blumrush's voice cut through the murmurs of the nobles, his skepticism evident.
Gazef, ever composed and factual in his responses, didn't hesitate to provide clarification. "That's because they had the crest of the Sunlight Scripture," he explained calmly, "half of them were magic casters, easily identifiable by their robes and symbols, while the other half were warriors clad in armor distinctive to the Slane Theocracy."
The nobles exchanged uneasy glances, the gravity of the situation sinking in. The Slane Theocracy, known as the protectors of humanity and staunch allies of the Re-Estize Kingdom, were now implicated in a bloody massacre that defied explanation.
"Why would the Slane Theocracy do this?" murmured one noble, voicing the question that weighed heavily on everyone's mind.
"What was their goal in destroying these villages?" added another, the confusion evident in his tone.
"Are they trying to provoke a deeper conflict between our kingdom and the Empire?" speculated a third noble, his voice tinged with apprehension.
The room buzzed with speculation and concern, the implications of the Slane Theocracy's actions sparking a flurry of questions and theories.
"All right, that's enough," King Ramposa III's voice cut through the chatter once more, his tone firm and decisive. "We will send a message to the cardinals of the Slane Theocracy, demanding answers for these atrocities."
Turning to Gazef, the king continued, "Warrior Captain, did the villagers tell you more about the one who massacred the knights?"
Gazef inclined his head respectfully. "As I mentioned earlier, Your Majesty," he began, "the villagers spoke of a powerful undead entity. They described it as a being of immense strength and dark power, capable of vanishing into the sky after the deed was done."
As the discussions in the throne room delved into the troubling events involving the Slane Theocracy and the mysterious undead creature, King Ramposa III's weariness was palpable. The weight of these developments, coupled with the impending war with the Baharuth Empire, bore heavily on his shoulders.
"Now this is troublesome," the king remarked with a sigh, his expression reflecting a mix of concern and frustration. "Special forces of the Slane Theocracy infiltrating our kingdom, and now a mysterious powerful undead creature saving villagers."
Gazef, ever attuned to the king's mood and the gravity of the situation, sensed the weariness in his ruler's voice. It was clear that the complexities and challenges facing the kingdom were taking their toll.
Recognizing the need to regroup and focus on the imminent threat posed by the Baharuth Empire, King Ramposa III made a decisive decision. "Close this meeting," he ordered, his tone firm yet weary. "We must prepare for the war ahead. The young emperor of Baharuth is a dangerous foe, and we cannot afford to be divided or distracted."
The nobles, though still reeling from the revelations of the meeting, acquiesced to the king's command. As they filed out of the throne room, their minds buzzed with thoughts of the looming conflict and the enigmatic events that had unfolded.
Gazef, however, found his thoughts lingering on the mysterious savior of the village. Despite being an undead creature, this being had shown compassion and bravery in saving innocent lives. Gazef felt a sense of gratitude and admiration toward this unlikely hero.
King Ramposa III sat alone in the quiet of the throne room with Gazef Stronoff, the trusted Warrior Captain of the kingdom. His gaze was contemplative as he listened to Gazef recounts the harrowing events of the recent monster attack.
"Gazef, tell me about the monster attack," the king requested, his voice carrying a note of solemnity.
"Yes, Your Majesty," Gazef replied with a respectful nod. "That monster was a powerful frost wyvern. It wrought devastation upon our citizens, city guards, and brave adventurers who sought to protect our kingdom."
The king's expression darkened with sorrow. "This is truly tragic," he murmured, his thoughts turning to the lives lost and the suffering endured by the people of the kingdom.
Gazef continued, his tone reverent as he spoke of the hero who had emerged victorious against the formidable wyvern. "An adventurer was able to slay that monster with remarkable ease."
"Ah," King Ramposa III's interest piqued, "and what was the name of this courageous adventurer?"
"His name is Momon," Gazef answered with a hint of admiration in his voice. "He was a platinum-ranked adventurer, but his prowess and valor have elevated him to adamantite rank. I witnessed firsthand his battle against the wyvern, Your Majesty. The way he effortlessly cut off the head of that monstrous creature... He must have reached the pinnacle of human strength. A true hero, indeed."
King Ramposa III listened intently as Gazef spoke of Momon, the dark hero who had become a symbol of hope and resilience in the kingdom. Despite the challenges and tragedies that beset their land, Gazef's respect for Momon remained unwavering.
The king nodded thoughtfully, a sense of gratitude and admiration filling his heart for the brave souls who stood as guardians of the realm. In Momon, he saw not just a skilled warrior, but a beacon of courage and determination that inspired hope in the darkest of times.