Before one girl and another even younger one stood a figure in full plate armor brandishing a sword.

The blade swung, sparkling in the sunlight as if to say that taking their lives in a single stroke would be an act of mercy.

The girl shut her eyes. She didn’t want to be biting her lower lip. She just had no choice but to accept what was about to happen. If she had even a little power, she probably would have been able to shove the figure away and escape…

But she was powerless.

And so there was only one ending.

She would die.

The blade came down—

…The pain still hadn’t come.

She unscrunched her eyes.

The first thing she saw was the sword, stopped mid-swing.

The next was the figure holding the sword. The knight was practically frozen, looking at something off to her side. His unprotected stance manifested his internal shock.

The girl turned to follow his line of sight…

…and saw despair.

It was darkness.

A patch of raven black, ultrathin but so deep it seemed as if it went on forever. It was an oval rising up out of the ground, its bottom half cut off. It was a curious sight, but at the same time, it made her feel indescribably uneasy.

A door? was what came to mind when she looked at it.

A heartbeat later, she would be proven correct.

Something glided out of the darkness. And when she saw what it was—“Eegh!”—a dry shriek escaped her lips.

A human would have no chance against this being.

Hazy red light flickered flame-like in the vacant orbs of a bleached-white skull. The gaze was trained unfeelingly on the girls as if they were live prey. Skinless, fleshless hands, both sublime and terrible, clutched a staff so gorgeous it seemed to be the concentration of all the world’s beauty.

It was as if Death had donned an intricately ornamented raven-black robe and been born into this world from another along with the darkness.

The air instantly froze.

At the entrance of the Absolute even time seemed to stop.

As though her soul had been taken, the girl forgot to breathe.

With no sense of time, inhaling was difficult, and she nauseously gulped for air.

A messenger from beyond has come to lure us away. But that didn’t seem right. The knight behind them had frozen as well.

“Ngah…” She heard an exhalation that could not even be called a scream, but whether it had been her, her trembling little sister, or the knight with the sword before them, she didn’t know.

Death’s fingers—of which only the bones, picked clean, were left—stretched out slowly and then violently snatched at, not the girls, but the knight.

She wanted to look away, but she was too scared. She had the feeling that if she looked away, the monster would transform into something even more horrible.

“Grasp Heart.”

Death incarnate made a clenching motion, and metal clanged noisily next to the girl.

She was scared to take her eyes off Death, but she lost to the tiny bit of curiosity still dwelling inside her and looked at the knight lying facedown on the ground. He wasn’t moving.

He was dead.

Yes, dead.

The danger threatening to take her life had evaporated in a laughably simple way, but she couldn’t celebrate. Death had only assumed a more concentrated form.

Sensing the fear in her gaze with its entire body, Death moved toward her.

The darkness that had been contained within her field of vision began to expand.

It’s going to swallow us up.

She hugged her sister close.

The idea of running away didn’t even occur to her anymore.

If her opponent had been a human, she might have been able to act on the faint hope of “maybe,” but the being before her dashed that hope as if it were nothing.

Please let it not hurt, at least…

That was the most she could hope for now.

Her little sister clung to her waist, shaking with fear. She wanted to save her, but she couldn’t. All she could do was apologize for her powerlessness and pray that they would die together so she wouldn’t be lonely.

And then…

1

In the year 2138, there exists something called a “DMMO-RPG.”

This stands for “Dive Massively Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Game.” While connected via an intracranial nanocomputer network called a “neuro-nano interface,” which combines the best of cyber- and nanotechnology, players experience physical sensations as if they were really inhabiting an imaginary world.

In other words, you play as if you’re actually in the world of the game.

And among all the various DMMO-RPGs that had been developed, one stood above the rest.

Yggdrasil.

It had been released twelve years earlier, in 2126, by a Japanese developer who had been waiting for just the right moment.

Compared to other DMMO-RPGs at the time, Yggdrasil gave players an incredible amount of freedom.

For example, consider the class system, a fundamental element of character customization. Counting the advanced classes as well as the base ones, there were well over two thousand. Since each class had only 15 levels, players could have seven or more classes by the time they hit the overall level cap of 100. As long as they met the basic requirements, they could dabble as they pleased. Though it would be inefficient, a player could acquire one hundred classes at level 1 if they wanted to. In other words, the system was such that, unless they were deliberately created that way, no two characters would ever be the same.

Then, by using the creator’s tool kit—sold separately—players could edit the appearance of their weapons and armor, as well as the advanced settings of their in-game residences.

The environment awaiting players who ventured into this world was enormous. In fact, there were nine worlds: Asgard, Alfheim, Vanaheim, Nidavellir, Midgard, Jotunheim, Niflheim, Helheim, and Muspelheim.

A vast world, a staggering number of classes, and graphics that could be tweaked to one’s heart’s content—it was precisely the amount of customization that poured nitroglycerin onto the Japanese creative spirit and led to the game’s explosive popularity. It got to the point where in Japan the word DMMO-RPG was practically synonymous with Yggdrasil.

But that was all in the past now…

•

In the center of the room, a gigantic circular table shone with an obsidian gleam. Around it were forty-one magnificent seats.

Most of them, however, were empty.

Once, all the seats had been filled, but now only two figures remained.

One wore an extravagant raven-black academic robe with purple and gold trim. The collar was perhaps a bit overembellished, but strangely, it suited the wearer.

The bare head of the figure in question had neither skin nor flesh—just bone. Reddish-black flames burned in his gaping eye sockets, and something like a black halo shone behind him.

The other one wasn’t human, either. More of an amorphous black blob, almost like coal tar. His constantly shifting surface meant that he had no fixed shape.

The former was an elder lich—an undead being that was what remained of a caster who had pursued magic ability to its extreme—and the most elite type: an overlord. The latter was an elder black ooze, which was a slime race that had some of the most powerful acid abilities in the game.

Both races occasionally appeared as monsters in the most difficult dungeons. The various types of overlords used the highest-level evil magic while the elder black ooze had the ability to corrode weapons and armor, so both were famously hated.

But these two weren’t monsters.

They were players.

The races players could choose from in Yggdrasil were split into three main categories: basic humanoid races (humans, dwarves, elves, and so on); subhuman races, who weren’t pretty but performed better than humanoids (goblins, orcs, ogres, etc.); and grotesques, who had monster powers and got more ability points than other races but were penalized in other ways. Including all the elite races, there was a total of seven hundred at the users’ disposal.

Naturally, overlords and elder black oozes were two of the elite grotesque races that players could become.

The overlord spoke without moving his mouth. Even for what had once been the pinnacle of DMMO-RPGs, it had still been impossible to animate expressions to align with conversation.

“It’s been a really long time, HeroHero. Even though it’s the last day Yggdrasil’s servers are open, I didn’t think you would actually come.”

“For real—long time no see, Momonga,” another adult male voice answered, but compared to the first, it sounded pretty lifeless.

“It’s been since you changed jobs IRL, so…how long ago was that? Two years?”

“Mm, yeah, about that. Geez, it’s been that long.…Damn. My sense of time is messed up from working so much overtime.”

“Sounds rough. Are you doing okay?”

“My health? It’s pretty much in tatters. Not doctor-visit level, but pretty close. Ugh. I really wanna just run away from it all. But I gotta eat, so I’m working my *** off and getting whipped like a slave.”

“Yikes…” The overlord Momonga leaned back to exaggerate his wince— this conversation was kind of killing the mood.

“It’s seriously awful.”

Momonga was already put off, but HeroHero’s follow-up sounded exactly as awful as he said things were.

Their gripes about their jobs in reality gathered steam: how their subordinates had no communication skills, how the spec documents were liable to change from one day to the next, how their bosses would grill them if they didn’t meet their quotas, how they could barely ever go home because there was too much work, their abnormal weight gain caused by the crazy hours they kept, the increasing number of pills they took.

At some point, it was like a dam broke inside HeroHero, and Momonga shifted to a listening role as the complaints flooded out.

Talking about one’s real life in a fantasy world was frowned on by many. “Please keep your reality out of my daydream” was certainly an understandable sentiment, but these two didn’t feel that way.

There were two requirements that all the members of their guild, Ainz Ooal Gown, had to meet. One was that members had to be working adults, and the other was that they had to play grotesques.

Since that’s the type of guild it was, real-life work woes were a common topic of discussion, which was fine with the members. The conversation these two were having was an everyday occurrence in Ainz Ooal Gown.

Enough time had passed that HeroHero’s muddy flood of grievances had calmed to a clear stream. “Sorry, I don’t mean to just whine. But I can’t really talk about this stuff IRL, you know?” A part of him that must have been his head wiggled.

Momonga took it as a bow of apology and said, “Don’t worry about it, HeroHero. You accepted my invitation to come tonight even though you’re exhausted, so listening to some complaints is the least I can do—I’ll take as many as you’ve got.”

HeroHero seemed a bit livelier than before and gave a weak chuckle. “Really, though, thank you, Momonga. I’m glad I was able to log in today and see you after so long.”

“It makes me glad to hear you say that!”

“But I should probably get going soon…” HeroHero’s tentacles began moving in midair. He’d opened his menu. “Yeah, it’s getting late. Sorry, Momonga…”

Momonga paused for a breath so as not to betray his emotions. “Ah, that’s too bad. Time really does fly when you’re having fun…”

“I really wanted to stay till the end, but I’m just too tired…”

“Yeah, I can imagine. Log out and rest up.”

“I’m really sorry… Momonga—err, no—Guild Master, what are your plans?”

“I’ll think I’ll hang around until the forced log out when the servers shut down. There’s still some time left, so there’s a chance someone else might show up.”

“I see… Honestly, I was surprised this place still even existed!”

Times like this, Momonga was truly grateful that their expressions were fixed. Otherwise, his grimace would have been immediately apparent. In any case, his emotions would have been evident in his voice, so he had to keep his mouth shut to suppress them.

Hearing something like that from a guildmate after having worked so hard to maintain their base precisely because it was a place they had all built together elicited feelings in Momonga too mixed to explain. But those feelings vanished when he heard what HeroHero said next.

“As the guild master, you kept it going so we could come back anytime, didn’t you? I really appreciate that.”

“Well, we all built it together, you know? Making sure members can come back anytime is the guild master’s job!”

“I think having you as our guild master was what made this game so fun for us. I hope to see you again…in Yggdrasil II!”

“I haven’t heard any rumors about a sequel…but yeah, I hope so, too.”

“If it happens, let’s definitely play together! Anyhow, I’m falling asleep here, so I’m gonna log off. I’m glad I got to see you at the end like this. It’s been great playing with you.”

“…” Momonga choked up for just a moment. Then he managed his final good-bye. “I’m glad I got to see you, too. Nice playing with you.”

Ba-ding! A smiley emoticon appeared over HeroHero’s head. In Yggdrasil, expressions didn’t change, so players used emoticons when they wanted to convey emotions.

Momonga opened his menu and picked the same emoticon.

HeroHero got the last word in. “See you again somewhere.”

With that, the last of the three other guild members who had made the farewell gathering disappeared.

Silence returned to the room, a silence so deep it was hard to imagine anyone had been there. No echoes, no vestiges of anyone’s presence.

Looking at the chair where HeroHero had been sitting until a moment before, Momonga murmured the words he’d suppressed. “I know you’re tired, but it’s the last day—the servers are shutting down. Won’t you stay until the end?”

Of course, there was no reply. HeroHero was already back in the real world.

Momonga heaved a sigh from the bottom of his heart.

There was no way he could have said that.

It had been evident from their short conversation and the tone of HeroHero’s voice how extremely tired he’d been. A guy that exhausted had read the e-mail Momonga had sent and came out for the last day. That was more than enough to be thankful for. Any further requests would have overstepped the bounds of nostalgia and just made Momonga into a nuisance.

Momonga stared at HeroHero’s empty chair and then shifted his gaze. There were thirty-nine other chairs. The places where his guildmates used to sit. He looked around at all of them before coming back to HeroHero’s seat.

“‘See you again somewhere’…?”

See you again sometime.

See you later.

He’d heard those words many times. But they almost never came true. Nobody ever returned to Yggdrasil.

“Where and when exactly are we going to meet, huh?” Momonga’s shoulders shuddered violently, and the true feelings that had been building up all this time suddenly gushed out. “Don’t **** with me!” he roared, pounding the table with both fists.

The game’s system registered his motion as an attack and began computing countless parameters, such as his unarmed attack strength and the table’s defense stats. The result appeared above the place where his hands had struck: “0.”

“This is the Great Tomb of Nazarick! We built it together! How can you all abandon it so easily?” After the intense anger came loneliness. “No…I know that’s not right. I know it wasn’t easy at all. They were just forced to choose between reality and a daydream. It’s not something they could help. No one betrayed us at all. It was a hard decision for everybody…,” Momonga muttered to himself as he stood up. In the direction he faced, a staff hung on the wall.

It was based on the god Hermes’s staff, caduceus, and consisted of seven intertwined snakes. Each writhing snake held a different-colored jewel in its mouth. The grip was made of a transparent crystalline material that gave off a pale glow. Anyone who saw it would know it was a top-tier item—it was a Guild Weapon, so named because each guild could have only one. This staff was the symbol of Ainz Ooal Gown.

It was meant to be wielded by the guild master, so why was it on display here?

Precisely because it was the symbol of the guild.

If the Guild Weapon were destroyed, it would mean the collapse of the guild. So, in most cases, a Guild Weapon was stored in a safe place, its mighty powers untested. Even the weapon of a top guild like Ainz Ooal Gown was no exception.

That was why even though the staff was made for Momonga, he had never once held it.

He reached his hand out and then stopped himself. Did he really want to taint the glorious memory of all they had built together now, at this moment before the servers shut down?

He recalled the days when the guild members had gone questing together to craft the Guild Weapon. They had split into teams and competed to see who could collect the most resources, argued about what the design should be, summarized the opinions each member brought to the table, and built it up piece by piece.

Those were the glory days of Ainz Ooal Gown.

There were people who were tired from work but forced themselves to show up anyway. There were people who slacked on their family obligations and got into huge fights with their wives. There were people who laughed and said they took a sick day.

Sometimes they’d wasted the whole day just chatting. They’d get so excited about the silliest things. They’d plan quests and hunt for treasure like there was no tomorrow. Once they mounted a sneak attack on a castle that was an enemy guild’s base and stormed right in. Once they were nearly annihilated by one of the strongest secret monsters in the game, known as World Enemies. They’d discovered some previously undiscovered resources. They’d positioned all kinds of monsters in their base to take care of any intruders.

But now there was no one left.

Out of forty-one players, thirty-seven had quit. The other three had remained members in name, but Momonga couldn’t remember the last time they had come before today.

Momonga opened the menu to access official data and looked at the guild ranking. Now there were slightly fewer than eight hundred guilds. Once they had been ranked ninth, but they had fallen to twenty-ninth. This is our rank on the last day, huh? The lowest they’d ever been was forty-eighth.

That they had only slipped that far was not thanks to Momonga’s efforts, but to the items left by former guildmates—what remained of the guild’s former glory.

It was a wreck now, but it had had its heyday.

And the fruit of that period was their Guild Weapon, the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown.

Momonga didn’t want to tarnish the memories harbored there, but a rebellious feeling also smoldered within him.

Ainz Ooal Gown valued majority rule. Although Momonga’s title was guild master, the duties he performed were mostly routine, often communications-type tasks.

Maybe that’s why now that no one was left, he thought for the first time that he’d like to try claiming a guild master’s rights.

“Well, I can’t do it looking like this,” he muttered and went into the menu. He would equip himself in a manner befitting the master of a top guild.

The gear in Yggdrasil was classified by how much data it contained. The more data, the better the item. Players started off with low-tier gear, then medium-tier, upper-tier, superior-tier, legacy, relic, legend, and finally god-tier, the highest possible.

Nine rings, each with their own power, adorned Momonga’s ten finger bones. His necklace, gauntlets, boots, cape, cloak, and circlet were all god-tier. From a monetary point of view, each item was an astonishingly rare and valuable treasure. The splendid robe mentioned previously hung from his shoulders.

A reddish-black aura shimmered up from beneath his feet, giving him an ominous, evil appearance. But he wasn’t using a skill—the robe data had room, so he had just plugged in an “ominous aura” effect. It wasn’t like anything would happen if someone touched it.

Out of the corner of his eye, Momonga saw various numbers pop up to indicate his stat increases. Having fully equipped himself, he nodded in satisfaction. Now he looked like a guild master. Then, he reached out and grasped the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown.

The moment it was in his hands it began radiating a shimmering, dark red aura. Anguished human faces would occasionally form, warp, and dissipate, seemingly so real one could almost hear their tortured cries.

“…Maybe we went a little overboard.”

Finally, on the last day the servers were running, this elite staff was in the hands of its rightful owner. While confirming the icons indicating his dramatic stat boosts, he still felt lonely.

“Well, symbol of the guild, shall we see what you can do? Or should I say ‘symbol of my guild.’”

2

Momonga left the room they called the Round Table.

Unless they specified a different location, anyone with a guild member ring would appear there when they logged in. If anyone was coming back today, they would be standing by in that room. But Momonga understood that there was practically no chance of any other guild members making an appearance—that he was the only player left who wanted to spend the final moments of the game in the Great Tomb of Nazarick.

Suppressing the surging waves of his emotions, Momonga walked silently through his palace.

It was a majestic, ornate world reminiscent of Neuschwanstein Castle.

Chandeliers hung at regular intervals, shining warm light from the high ceilings. The polished floor of the wide hallway reflected the light as marble would, gleaming as if it were full of stars. Upon opening any of the doors to the right or left, the grandeur of the furnishings inside would take one’s breath away. If any nonmember came here, they’d be amazed—amazed that such luxury could exist in this legendary place, the notorious Great Tomb of Nazarick, where the largest army in the game’s history (an alliance of eight guilds, plus other affiliated guilds, mercenary players, mercenary non-player characters (NPCs), and so on, for a total of 1,500 men) had once arrived on a punitive expedition only to be completely wiped out.

The Great Tomb of Nazarick was originally constructed with six levels, but after Ainz Ooal Gown conquered it, it was dramatically transformed. At present, there were ten underground levels, each with its own distinct features. Levels one through three made up the grave. The fourth was an underground lake. Five was a glacier. Six was a jungle. Seven was lava. Eight was wilderness. Nine and ten were a shrine. This was the headquarters of a guild that broke the top ten back in an era when there were thousands, the guild of Ainz Ooal Gown.

What better word for this world than divine? Momonga’s footsteps echoed throughout the halls accompanied by the hard clack of his staff on the floor. After walking a ways down the wide corridor and turning a number of corners, he saw a woman coming toward him from up ahead.

She was gorgeous, with abundant blond hair falling around her shoulders and distinctive facial features. Her clothing was a maid uniform with a broad apron and a long, unobtrusive skirt. She stood about five feet, seven inches tall and had long, delicate limbs. Ample twin swells asserted themselves by straining against the chest of her outfit, but the overall impression she made was one of modesty.

Soon the gap between them had closed; the woman moved into a nook and bowed deeply to Momonga.

He responded with a small wave.

Her expression didn’t change. There was such a slight hint of a smile that it was difficult to tell if it was there or not, just as before. In Yggdrasil, expressions never changed, but in her case, the implication was a little different.

This maid was an NPC, a “nonplayer character.” She was not controlled by a human but moved on her own according to her AI—a program. Basically, she was a walking mannequin. No matter how sophisticated she was or how politely she bowed, it was all just according to her programming.

Momonga’s response might have seemed a foolish way to treat a mannequin, but there was a reason he wanted to show some consideration.

The forty-one NPC maids working in the Great Tomb of Nazarick were all based on custom drawings. The artist was a guild member who made his living as an illustrator and who was now serialized in a monthly manga magazine.

Momonga gazed fixedly at the maid. He was looking at the girl certainly but mainly her outfit. It was surprisingly detailed. The meticulous embroidery on the apron was especially impressive. But how could he expect anything less when the artist was a guy who said, “A maid’s uniform is a battle-deciding weapon!”? Momonga fondly recalled the graphics producer’s screams.

“Ahh, right. Even back then he was all about ‘Maid uniforms for great justice!’ Actually, even the manga he’s doing now has a maid as the heroine. Are you making your assistants cry with all the detail work, WhiteLace?”

HeroHero had designed the AI program, along with five other mates.

In other words, this maid was another former guild members’ collaboration, so it would be sad to simply ignore her. Just like the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown, this maid was a shining memory of the good old days.

As Momonga reminisced, the maid, who had straightened up, cocked her head as if to say, May I help you?

Oh, is this the idle pose she would strike if you were near her for a certain amount of time? He searched his memory and was impressed by how detailed HeroHero’s program was. He knew there must be other secret poses. He was taken by the urge to see them all, but unfortunately, time was running out.

He checked the semitransparent watch face on his left wrist.

He indeed had no time to waste.

“Thanks for all your hard work,” he said to the maid out of sentimentality and then slipped by her. Of course, there was no reply, but he felt like it was the proper thing to do on this last day.

Leaving the maid behind, Momonga continued walking.

It was not long before a grand staircase with its primarily red carpeting came into view. At least ten people could walk abreast down it with their arms outstretched. Momonga slowly descended to the deepest level of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, the tenth level.

The stairs led to an open hall where he found several people.

The first one he saw was an old man superbly dressed in a traditional butler uniform. His hair was completely white, as was his beard, but his back was as straight as the blade of a steel sword. Conspicuous wrinkles in his chiseled Caucasian features gave him an air of kindness, but his penetrating eyes were like those of a hawk targeting its prey.

Behind him, trailing him like his shadows, were six maids. These, however, were equipped completely differently from the one before.

They all wore armor based on manga-style maid uniforms featuring metal vambraces and greaves of silver, gold, black, and other colors, with white lace headpieces instead of helmets. They also each carried a different weapon.\ Basically, they were maid warriors.

Their hairstyles were varied as well: a chignon, a ponytail, a straight cut, braids, rolled curls, a French twist. The only thing they had in common was how beautiful they were, but even their beauty came in various types: bewitching, wholesome, Japanese…

Naturally, they were also NPCs, but unlike the earlier one who was made pretty much for kicks, these existed to intercept raiders.

In Yggdrasil, there were perks for guilds who possessed a base of castle size or larger. One was that there were NPCs who would protect said base. The Great Tomb of Nazarick had undead mobs. They could be up to level 30 and it didn’t cost the guild anything if they died—they’d just respawn after a set amount of time. The only thing was that the appearances and AI of these auto-spawning NPCs couldn’t be edited, which made them too weak to repel other players.

But then there was another perk: the right to create the guild’s own NPCs from scratch. Even a weak guild that occupied a base of at least castle size would get at least seven hundred levels to dole out to custom NPCs as they liked. Since the level cap in Yggdrasil was 100, one could, for example, make five level 100s and four level 40s. And for this type of NPC, it was possible to adjust their looks, AI, and gear for those who could equip it. With this system, guilds could station guards far stronger than the auto-spawning mobs at key locations.

Of course, there was nothing forcing people to create NPCs with combat in mind. There was one guild, the Great Cat Kingdom, that made all their NPCs cats or other members of the Felidae family. It wouldn’t be mistaken to say that this ability was meant to bring out the personalities of the guilds.

“Hm.” Momonga brought a hand to his chin and looked at the butler bowing before him. He didn’t come here very often, since he normally used teleportation magic to go from room to room. That must have been why the sight of the butler and maids here made him feel so nostalgic.

He stretched his fingers out for the menu and opened up the members-only guild page. Checking a box there instantly caused the names of all the NPCs in the room to appear over their heads.

“So that’s what you’re called.” He cracked a smile. It was part pained wince for not remembering their names, but also part nostalgic grin, as memories of the dispute over what the names should be surfaced from his fragmented recollection.

Sebas the butler’s background said he could perform all the duties of a house steward. The team of combat maids, known as the Pleiades, reported directly to him. Besides them he was also in charge of the male servants and assistant butlers.

There was probably more detailed background info in the text log, but Momonga wasn’t interested in reading any more. He didn’t have much time left, and there was somewhere he wanted to be sitting when the servers shut down.

Incidentally, the reason all the NPCs, including the maids, had detailed backstories was that Ainz Ooal Gown was full of people who loved to write them. And because there were so many illustrator and programmer members, everyone was really obsessed with getting the graphics right, which in turn spurred on the writers’ imaginations.

Sebas and the maids were meant to be the last line of defense against raiders. Not that anyone thought it was possible to repel players who managed to penetrate this far, but at least NPC guards could buy some time. That said, no players had ever gotten to the tenth level, so all the guards had ever done was wait.

They had never received orders from anyone, but just stood by wondering if or when an enemy would arrive.

Momonga tightened his grip on the staff.

It was stupid to feel sorry for NPCs. After all, they were just data. If it seemed like they had emotions, it just meant the human who designed the AI had done a good job.

But…

“A guild master should make his NPCs work!” While teasing himself in his head for sounding so arrogant, he added, “Follow me!”

Sebas and the maids acknowledged the order with a bow.

Momonga’s guildmates didn’t mean for these NPCs to leave this area, and Ainz Ooal Gown valued majority rule. It was unacceptable for one person to do what he wanted with things that everyone had made together.

But it’s the last day. Everyone would surely forgive me on the last day, he thought as he continued on with multiple sets of footsteps sounding behind him.

Presently they arrived at a large domed hall. Crystals in four colors on the ceiling gave off white light. There were seventy-two alcoves dug into the walls, most of which contained a statue. There were sixty-seven in all, each in the form of a demon.

This room was called Lemegeton after the famed grimoire also known as The Lesser Key of Solomon. All of the statues, carved out of ultrarare magical metals, were golems based on Solomon’s seventy-two demons. The only reason there were sixty-seven instead of seventy-two was that the person making them got bored partway through.

The crystals on the ceiling were monsters. During an enemy raid they could summon the major elementals (earth, wind, fire, and water) and simultaneously bombard the enemy with wide-range area-of-effect magic attacks. If all of them were mobilized, it would be enough power to take out two parties of level-100 players (twelve people) with ease.

This room was the very last line of defense before entering the heart of the Great Tomb of Nazarick.

Momonga took the servants with him as he crossed Lemegeton to stand in front of a large door. It was a huge—probably more than sixteen feet tall—double door with extraordinarily detailed carvings: a goddess on the left and a demon on the right. They looked so real it seemed like they might jump off the door to attack. Despite that, Momonga was fairly sure they didn’t move. “If a bunch of heroes manage to get this far, we should welcome them. A lot of people say we’re evil and whatnot, so let’s lie in wait for them here like final bosses.” The suggestion was adopted by majority rule.

“Ulbert…” Ulbert Alain Odle had been the most obsessed with the word evil out of anybody in the guild. “That guy just never got through adolescence…”

Momonga took another sentimental look around the grand hall.

“…Okay, you’re not going to attack me, right?”

His anxiety was not unwarranted. Even he didn’t know how everything in this labyrinth worked. He wouldn’t have been surprised if one of the retired members had left a twisted “parting gift,” and the guy who made this door was definitely the type to do something like that.

Once, he said he wanted to show Momonga a powerful golem he had just made, but when Momonga booted the golem up, a bug in the combat AI caused it to start throwing punches at him. He still wondered if that had been on purpose.

“Hey, Luci★Fer. If you attack me today of all days, I will be seriously angry.”

Momonga touched the massive door with caution, but his worries had been for nothing; it opened automatically but slowly, with appropriate gravity.

The mood changed.

The previous room had already been as tranquil and solemn as a shrine, but the scene here surpassed even that. The new atmosphere exerted a physical pressure; the exquisite workmanship could be felt weighing on one’s entire body.

The room was huge—a hundred people could come in and there would still be space left over—and the ceilings so high. The walls were primarily white with ornamentation done mainly in gold. The magnificent chandeliers that hung from the ceiling were made of jewels in a rainbow of colors and cast a dreamy sparkling light. On the walls, hanging from the ceiling to the floor, were large flags, each with a different crest—forty-one in all.

On the far side of this lavish gold-and-silver room was a short flight of ten stairs. At the top was a throne carved out of a giant crystal, its back practically tall enough to reach the heavens. Behind it was a large scarlet tapestry bearing the guild’s crest.

This was the most important location in the entire Great Tomb of Nazarick, the Throne Room.

A “wow” escaped Momonga’s lips as he admired the overwhelming room. He was sure the workmanship was the best, or maybe second best, in all of Yggdrasil. That made it a perfect place to spend the last few minutes of the game.

It was so large, the sound of his footsteps seemed to vanish into the room as he entered. He eyed the female NPC standing next to the throne.

She was gorgeous, wearing a snow-white dress. Her faint smile was like that of a goddess. Her lustrous hair was a black the exact opposite of her dress and reached all the way to her waist. Her golden irises and vertical slit pupils were odd, but they didn’t detract one bit from her peerless feminine beauty. She did, however, have thick horns that curled forward out of her temples, like a ram’s. But that wasn’t all. Black angel wings sprouted out of her back near her hips. Perhaps because of the shadows caused by her horns, her goddess smile seemed like it might be a mask hiding something else. She wore a glittering golden necklace like a spiderweb covering her shoulders and chest. In her delicate silken-gloved hands, she carried a strange wand-like object. It was about eighteen inches long, its end tipped by a black orb that floated there with no supports.

Momonga hadn’t forgotten her name. How could he have? She was Albedo, captain of the Great Tomb of Nazarick’s floor guardians. There were seven floor guardians, and she was the NPC who oversaw them; she was the character at the top of the NPC hierarchy in the Great Tomb of Nazarick. Which was why she was allowed to stand by in that innermost room.

But there was some harshness in the way Momonga looked at her now. “I knew there was one World Item here, but why are there two?”

There were only two hundred of these extraordinary items in Yggdrasil. Each World Item contained an absolutely unique power. There were even game-breaking items that allowed their owner to demand the admins to change a part of the game’s system. Of course, not all of them were so extravagant. Even so, if a player were able to own one individually, one can imagine how far their reputation would spread.

Ainz Ooal Gown was in possession of eleven World Items. That was more than any other guild—far more, in fact. The guild with the next most had only three. Of Ainz Ooal Gown’s, Momonga had gotten permission from the guild to carry one as his own, and the rest were scattered around the Great Tomb of Nazarick, although most of them stayed in the treasury, protected by the Avataras.

There could only be one reason that Albedo had come into possession of one of these secret treasures without his knowledge: The guild member who created her had given it to her.

Ainz Ooal Gown valued majority rule. It was unacceptable to move the treasure everyone collected together around on one’s own. Momonga was somewhat offended and felt he should probably take it back. But today was the last day. He decided to take that guildmate’s feelings into account and leave the item where it was.

“That’s far enough,” Momonga said to Sebas and the Pleiades in a dignified tone when they’d reached the steps to the throne.

Then, he started up the stairs, but after he had gone up a couple, he realized he could still hear footsteps behind him and winced (although, of course, the graphics of his skull face didn’t move a bit). When it came down to it, NPCs were inflexible programs. They wouldn’t take an order unless it was one of their set phrases. Momonga used NPCs so rarely that he had managed to forget that simple fact.

Since the other guild members left, Momonga had been doing all he reasonably could to go treasure hunting and raise the funds necessary to maintain the Great Tomb of Nazarick. He never teamed up with any other players and stealthily avoided the kinds of difficult areas the guild had quested in back when the members were still around. Every day he just threw money into the treasury like it was his job and logged out. He didn’t have much occasion to meet NPCs.

“Stand by.” The footsteps stopped when he gave the correct command. Then, he climbed the stairs and stood before the throne.

He scrutinized Albedo without reserve. He never really came to this room and couldn’t remember ever taking a good look at her. “I wonder what her backstory is…” All he could remember was that she was captain of the floor guardians and the most elite NPC in the Great Tomb of Nazarick. With curiosity fluttering in his chest, he accessed the menu to look up her info.

And there certainly was info—writing flooded his field of vision. Her backstory was the length of an epic poem. If he were to take his time reading it, the servers would shut down before he was done.

If Momonga’s expression could move, his face would have been screwed up in disbelief. He felt more or less like he’d stepped on a land mine. How could he have forgotten that the guild member who created Albedo was so obsessed with backstories? He was extremely disappointed in himself.

He was the one who had looked it up, so he resigned himself to browsing the bio. He barely even skimmed it, scrolling in one big swipe to the bottom. The last thing it said caught his attention: “By the way, she’s a bitch.”

His eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Huh? What the heck?” he yelped in spite of himself. No matter how many times he doubted his eyes and reread, the words didn’t change. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t think of anything for them to mean besides the first thing that popped into his head. “It’s gotta be ‘bitch,’ the insult…”

All forty-one members of the guild had set up at least one NPC. He wondered if someone would really give the character they created that sort of background. If he took his time and read the whole thing, maybe there was some deeper meaning?

But there were some people who came up with the craziest backstories…And the member who had created Albedo, Tabula Smaragdina, was one of those.

“So you’re into that unexpected contrast, eh, Tabula? Still…” Isn’t this going a bit too far? The NPCs the guild members made were like the legacy of the guild. If the one on top of the hierarchy had this in her bio, it seemed pretty…

“Hrm…” Was it okay to mess with someone’s original NPC due to personal feelings? Momonga thought for a moment and then gave his answer. “I’m gonna change it.”

Now that he was carrying the Guild Weapon, he was guild master in both name and substance. He figured it would be okay to exercise the privileges he’d mostly ignored in the past. Using the fuzzy logic of “If a guild member makes an error, it should be corrected,” he broke through his hesitation.

Momonga pointed his staff. Usually one would need the creator’s tool kit to edit bios, but he could access them with his guild master privileges. A couple menu inputs later and the sentence about being a “bitch” was gone. “I guess that’ll do.” Then, he thought for a moment and looked at the space he’d opened up. Maybe I should put something in there…

“This is so stupid.” Momonga winced at his own idea and input the characters via the menu keyboard. It was a short sentence:

“And she’s in love with Momonga.”

“Ugh, how embarrassing.” He put his hands over his face. He felt he might collapse due to sheer mortification, as if he’d made up his own ideal lover and written a romance about it. He fidgeted. He was so embarrassed he considered changing it again, but he decided it was okay.

It was the last day. This embarrassment would disappear in just a few more minutes. Plus, both sentences had the same amount of words—what perfection. Deleting it and leaving an empty space would be a bit of a waste.

Momonga sat on the throne and distracted himself from his slight satisfaction (and thus multiplied shame). He looked out across the room and noticed Sebas and the maids standing stiffly at the bottom of the stairs. In this room, their rigid postures seemed somehow lacking. Oh right, I think there was this one command…

“Genuflect!” Albedo, Sebas, and the six maids all dropped to one knee at once and bowed as if they were his subjects.

That’s better.

Momonga lifted his left wrist and checked the time: 23:55:48. Made it just in time. By now the game masters are probably making announcements nonstop. There are probably fireworks… But Momonga was cut off from all that, so he didn’t really know. He leaned back in the throne and looked up at the ceiling.

He had thought a party might show up to storm them on the last day, since this was the base of the guild that had crushed that punitive expedition. He’d been waiting. As guild master, he was ready to take on the challenge. He’d sent an e-mail to all of his old guildmates, but only a handful replied. He’d been waiting. As guild master, he was excited to welcome his old mates.

“Is this guild just a relic of the past?” he wondered. Now there was no one around, but it sure had been a lot of fun. He moved his eyes to count the flags hanging from the ceiling. Forty-one. A flag for every guild member with their crest. He pointed a phalanx at one of them. “Me.” Then, he moved his finger one over. That flag had the crest of Ainz Ooal Gown’s—no, the entire game’s—best player, the one who originally proposed starting their guild. He was also the one who had united its forerunner, the First Nine.

“Touch Me.”

The next one over was the crest of Ainz Ooal Gown’s oldest member age-wise, a university professor in the real world: “Death Suzaku.”

Momonga’s finger sped up as he went. The next was one of the guild’s only three women members. “Ankoro Mocchi Mochi.”

Momonga continued naming all the guild members according to their crests, with no hesitation. “HeroHero, Peroroncino, BubblingTeapot, Tabula Smaragdina, the Warrior Takemikazuchi, Variable Talisman, Genjiro…” It didn’t take very long for him to say all forty of his guildmates’ names. They were still burned into his brain.

He slumped down in the throne, somewhat tired. “Yeah, we had fun…”

The game was free to play, but Momonga spent about a third of his monthly salary on microtransactions. It wasn’t that he was making so much—he just didn’t have any other hobbies, so Yggdrasil was all he spent money on.

Once he put so much into a lottery that came with a bonus that he blew straight through the bonus. He went to all that trouble and finally got the rare item he’d been after, but Yamaiko, a guildmate, won it for the price of a single lunch out. Oh, did that suck. He’d writhed around on the floor.

Since Ainz Ooal Gown was made up of working adults, almost everyone was buying stuff in-game, but Momonga was definitely up there in terms of spending. He was probably pretty high up even among everyone on the server.

That’s how hooked he’d been. Questing was fun, too. And playing with friends was even more fun. To Momonga, with his parents already gone and no friends in the real world, Ainz Ooal Gown represented the awesome times he’d spent with his friends.

And now he was going to lose it.

How miserable, how awful.

He tightened his grip on the staff. Momonga was a normal office worker. He didn’t have the money or connections to do anything. He was just another user whose only choice was to silently accept the end.

In the corner of his field of vision, he saw the time: 23:57. The servers would shut down at midnight.

There was almost no time left. His fantasy world was ending, and soon all his days would be spent in reality.

It’s only natural. Humans can’t live in a daydream. That’s why everyone left. Momonga sighed.

He had to be up at four tomorrow morning. If he didn’t go to bed as soon as the servers went down, it would affect his work.

23:59:35, 36, 37…

Momonga counted down along with the numbers.

23:59:48, 49, 50…

He closed his eyes.

23:59:58, 59—

He counted the moments as they ticked off the clock…to the end of his fantasy… Here comes the blackout—

0:00:00… One, two, three…

“…Huh?”

Momonga opened his eyes. He wasn’t back in his room. He was still in Yggdrasil in the Throne Room.

“…What’s going on?”

The time was accurate. He should have been booted by now.

0:00:38…

It was definitely after midnight. The time displayed by the system clock could not possibly be off.

Unsure how to proceed, he looked around for any information.

“Was the shutdown postponed?”

Or is there some kind of loss time?

Countless possibilities crossed his mind, but they were all far from convincing. The most likely was that for some reason, some unfavorable reason, the server shutdown had been postponed. If that were the case, the GMs would probably be making announcements. He rushed to turn the communication channels back on—his hands stopped.

His menu wouldn’t come up.

“What the…?”

Feeling slightly uneasy and confused (but surprised by how calm he was), Momonga tried to use some other features: forced system access that bypassed the menu, chat, a GM call, force quit. He couldn’t get to any of them. It was like he’d been locked out of the system.

“What is going on?!” His irate voice echoed across the spacious Throne Room and faded away.

This is the last day. It’s unthinkable that something like this could happen on the day that is supposed to be the end of it all. Are they teasing us? What came over him now was irritation at not being able to make a beautiful exit at the game’s glorious end. It could be felt in each word he spoke and almost sounded like he was taking out his anger on someone, but there shouldn’t have been any response. However…

“Is something the matter, Lord Momonga?”

It was a woman’s pretty voice, and he was hearing it for the first time.

Dumbfounded, Momonga looked to see where it had come from. When he saw who had spoken, he was absolutely shocked.

It was an NPC who was looking up at him—Albedo.

3

Carne.

It was a small village not far from the Tove Woodlands at the southern edge of the Azerlisia Mountains that formed the border between the empire and the kingdom. The population was about 120. Twenty-five households was not an uncommon size for a village on the frontiers of the Re-Estize Kingdom.

Carne mainly relied on agriculture and the bounty of the forest, and the only visitor apart from an apothecary who came to acquire herbs was the tax collector. The phrase like time had stopped was an apt descriptor of the place.

The day started early in the village. Villagers generally awoke at dawn. Unlike the larger cities, they didn’t have magically maintained Continual Light, so they rose and slept with the sun.

Enri Emmott’s mornings began with fetching water from the well near her house. Fetching water was women’s work. Her first chore was done when the large pot in her house was full. By that time her mother would be finished preparing breakfast, and the four members of their family would sit down together to eat.

Breakfast was barley and wheat oatmeal, sautéed vegetables, and on some days, dried fruit.

After that, she would go out to work in the fields with her mother and father. Her younger sister, soon to be ten, would gather wood near where the forest started or help in the fields. The bell in the center of town on the edge of the village square rang at noon. They would take a break from their work and eat lunch.

Lunch was brown bread baked some days earlier and soup with bits of preserved meat in it.

Then, it was back to the fields. When the sky began to redden, they would return home and eat dinner.

Dinner was the same brown bread as lunch and bean soup. If a hunter caught an animal, they would sometimes get a share of the meat. After the meal, they would chat as a family and mend clothes by what light remained in the kitchen.

They usually slept around six PM.

Enri Emmott had lived her whole life, from the moment she was born to her current age of sixteen years, as a member of this village.

She thought her uneventful life would continue on the same way forever.

One day Enri awoke as usual and went to fetch water. She hauled the bucket out of the well and filled her small pot. It took about three trips to fill the large one at home.

“Oof.” She rolled up her sleeves. The parts of her skin that weren’t tanned were glaringly white. Her arms were slender but well toned from working in the fields—she even had some muscle.

The pot was quite heavy once it was full of water, but she picked it up like usual. If I had a pot one size bigger, maybe I could reduce my number of trips? Oh, but I probably wouldn’t be able to carry it. Enri was about to head home when she thought she heard something and looked in the direction it came from. Something set the air roiling and her heart frothing.

Off in the distance, she heard the sound of something wooden being crushed. And then—

“A scream?” It was like the cry of a bird having its neck wrung and yet altogether different. Something cold raced down Enri’s spine. No way. It’s just my imagination. I misheard. Words to drown out her anxiety bubbled up, popped, and disappeared.

Panicking, she started to run. The scream had come from the direction of her house. She abandoned her pot. It’s too heavy to run with. Her feet got tangled in her long skirt and she nearly tripped, but luckily she managed to keep her balance and run on.

More voices.

Enri’s heart was pounding.

Human screams. No doubt about it.

Run. Run. Run.

She couldn’t remember ever having run this fast. She felt like she was going to trip over her own feet.

Horses whinnying. People screaming. Shouts.

It was all getting louder.

Still quite a ways away, Enri saw an armored figure swinging a sword at a villager. The villager screamed and crumpled to the ground. The sword followed up with a finishing stab.

“Mr. Morger!” There was no one in this small village she didn’t know—they were all like family—so of course she knew the man who had been killed. He could be a bit loud at times but was a good-natured person. He certainly didn’t deserve to die like that. Enri nearly stopped in her tracks, but she grit her teeth and pushed herself to sprint even faster.

This distance never felt terribly long when she was carrying water, but now it seemed like she would never arrive.

Angry shouts and curses reached her ears on the wind. Finally her house was in sight.

“Mom! Dad! Nemu!” she called out to her family as she opened the door.

Their three familiar faces were frightened but all present, huddled together. As soon as she burst in, their expressions softened into relief.

“Enri! You’re safe!” She felt her father’s rough farmer hands on her back as he hugged her. And the warm hands of her mother.

“Okay, now that Enri’s here, let’s get out of here!”

The Emmott family was in a pretty bad position. They didn’t want Enri to come home to an empty house, so they’d missed their opportunity to escape. The danger must already be closing in…

That fear soon became reality.

As the four of them were just about to make a run for it, a shadow appeared in the front entryway. Standing there with the sun at his back was a knight in full armor, the arms of the Baharuth Empire emblazoned on his breastplate. In his hand was a ***** blade—a longsword.

The Baharuth Empire occasionally invaded its neighbor, the Re-Estize Kingdom, but usually the fighting was centered around the fortress city of E-Rantel; the enemy had never made it as far as Carne.

But now the village’s peace had been shattered.

From the icy stare coming through the gap in the close helmet, Enri could sense that they were being counted. She hated the feeling of his eyes moving over them.

A squeak from his metal gauntlet announced that he had tightened his grip on the sword. He moved into the house—

“Yaaargh!”

“Urgh!”

Enri’s father tackled the knight, and the pair of them tumbled out the front door.

“Go! Hurry!”

“You bastard!”

Her father’s face was lightly smeared with blood. He must have cut himself when he rushed the knight. The two of them thrashed around on the ground, her father struggling to keep the knight’s dagger at bay, the knight struggling to keep her father’s knife at bay.

Seeing a family member’s blood right before her eyes made Enri’s mind go completely blank. Should I try to help him or escape?

“Enri! Nemu!” The shout brought her back to reality. Her mother, though anguished, was shaking her head.

Enri took her sister’s hand and started to run. Hesitation and guilt made her reluctant, but she had to just run as fast as she could to the forest.

The whinnies and screams of horses, angry voices, the clanging of metal, and…the smell of something burning. From all over the village, the sensations bombarded her eyes, ears, and nose. Where is that coming from? She was frantic to know even as she ran. In open areas, she moved in a half crouch, trying to stay in the shadows of houses.

Fear that made her blood run cold. The exertion of running wasn’t the only reason her heart was pounding. The only thing keeping her moving was the little hand clasped in hers.

My sister’s life…

Her mother, running a few paces ahead, was just turning a corner when she suddenly stiffened and shrank back. She motioned with a hand behind her back to run the other way!

When Enri realized why, she bit her lip to hold back a sob.

She squeezed her sister’s hand and ran to get as far away as they could.

She didn’t want to see what was going to happen next.

4

“Is something wrong, Lord Momonga?” Albedo repeated her question.

Momonga wasn’t sure how to answer. This series of mysterious events had short-circuited his brain.

“Please excuse me.” Momonga gazed at her absentmindedly as she got up and came up close to him. “Is something the matter?” She leaned in with her beautiful face. A faint but wonderful scent tickled Momonga’s nostrils. Perhaps kick-started by the fragrance, his thoughts began to return to him.

“No, I’m all right, thank y— It’s nothing.” He lacked the particular naïveté required to speak too terribly politely toward a mannequin, but as soon as she had spoken to him, he felt compelled to answer. There was something undeniably human about the way she spoke and moved.

The situation he and Albedo were in was way off, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. He did his utmost to suppress the confusion and amazement that such a vague understanding generated, but he was just a normal guy—it didn’t seem possible. Right as he was about to scream, he remembered the words of one of his guildmates: “Panic breeds failure. One must always have a composed, rational state of mind. Calm your heart and broaden your outlook. Don’t let your thoughts take you prisoner. Keep your mind quick, Momonga.”

With that remembrance, his calm came flooding back to him. He mentally gave his thanks to the man known as the guild’s Kongming, Squishy Moe.

“Are you all right?” Albedo asked, awfully close to him. She’d tilted her head adorably and leaned in so far that their breaths were overlapping. With this gorgeous girl in his face, the calm Momonga had just regained threatened to fly straight back out the window.

“The…GM call isn’t working.” Swallowed up by Albedo’s glistening pupils, he found himself consulting with an NPC.

A member of the opposite sex had never approached Momonga with this look in her eyes before, especially with such a lack of propriety. He knew it was just an NPC someone had made, but the flow of her expressions was so natural it was unsettling.

But somehow he noticed those feelings settling down already, as if they were being held back. The lack of wider emotional fluctuation, however, gave him a touch of anxiety. He had thought it was due to his former mate’s words, but is that really it?

Momonga shook his head. Now wasn’t the time.

“…Please forgive me. I am so ignorant I fear I am unable to answer your question regarding this ‘GM call’ you speak of. Nothing would make me happier than a chance to clear myself of the disgrace of failing your expectations. Your wish is my command…”

…We’re having a conversation. No doubt about it. The realization assailed his entire body with a petrifying amazement. Impossible… This can’t be happening.

An NPC was talking. Well, there were macros that allowed them to do that. Players had been passing around data for battle cries and cheers, etc. Still, conversation was impossible. Even just a minute ago, Sebas and the maids wouldn’t respond to anything that wasn’t a simple command phrase.

So how is this happening? Is Albedo just special?

He motioned for her to step back and glimpsed a flicker of reluctance as he looked away to Sebas and the maids, who still had their heads bowed.

“Sebas! Maids!”

“My lord!” They answered in magnificent unison, raising their heads in a slick motion.

“Come to the foot of the throne.”

“Yes, sir.” Their voices aligned again, and they sprang to their feet. The group walked together with beautiful posture to the bottom of the steps leading to the throne before each dropping again to one knee and bowing.

From this exchange, Momonga learned two things. First, although he had purposely avoided using command phrases, they could understand his intentions and carry them out. Second, Albedo was not the only one who could talk. At the very least, something weird is going on with all the NPCs in the Throne Room.

As he was reflecting on these things, he had the same feeling as before that something was off about both Albedo and himself. Wanting to understand it, he scrutinized her.

“Is everything all right? Have I done something wrong?”

“Agh!” When he recognized the root of the incongruity, a sound that was neither word, gasp, nor choking noise escaped his lips.

It was the changing expressions. Her lips were moving, and he could hear her words.

Flustered, he brought his fingers to his own lips. And spoke. “Im…po…”

My jaw is moving…

In the world of a DMMO-RPG, that went against all common sense. Mouths moving and words coming out?! Expression graphics were fixed; they didn’t move. Otherwise why would the developers have made emoticons?

Plus, Momonga’s face was a skull—he didn’t have a tongue or a throat. Looking down at his hands, there was no flesh and the bones weren’t even anatomically correct. Continuing along the same lines, he probably didn’t have any internal organs, not to mention lungs. So why could he talk?

“Impossible…” He felt the internal logic he had built up slowly over time begin to crumble away—and an equivalent panic replace it.

He wanted to scream but held it in. As expected, the heat in his chest was abruptly soothed by a wave of calm.

Momonga pounded the throne’s armrest. As he thought, the number showing damage didn’t pop up.

“What should I do? What makes the most sense…?” He was in an incomprehensible situation, but venting wouldn’t get him anywhere. First, he needed information. “Sebas!”

The expression on Sebas’s face as he lifted his head was earnestness incarnate. He looked like he was really alive.

I can give him an order, right? I’m not sure what’s going on, but I can assume the NPCs in the Tomb are loyal to me, right? Actually, I don’t even know if these are our NPCs…

Countless questions, and the anxiety that went with them, arose in his mind, but Momonga tuned it all out. In any case, there was no one better to send out for reconnaissance than Sebas. He did glance momentarily at Albedo, who was waiting off to the side, but he made up his mind to give the order to Sebas.

He imagined what executives at work were like when directing regular employees and tried to act like he was one of them. “Leave the Tomb, and confirm our surroundings within a half-mile radius. If there are any intelligent life-forms, negotiate to bring them here on amicable terms. You can give them practically whatever they request in return. Avoid combat to the extent possible.”

“Understood, Lord Momonga. I will leave without delay.”

In Yggdrasil, it was definitely not possible to take NPCs who were built to protect a base and send them outside, but here it was. Well, I won’t know for sure until he actually makes it outside, but…

“Take one member of the Pleiades with you. If you’re attacked, have her retreat immediately to bring back any information you have.” With that, Momonga had made at least one move.

He let go of the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown. It didn’t clatter to the ground, but instead hung in the air as if someone were holding it. It was against the laws of physics, but it was just like the game. In Yggdrasil, it wasn’t uncommon for items to float in the air when one let go of them.

The staff’s aura of anguished faces twisted around his hand as if reluctant to dissipate, but Momonga calmly ignored it. Not that he was…used to it, but that sort of macro wasn’t so strange; he shook his wrist to get rid of it.

Crossing his arms, he thought what his next move should be. I suppose… “I need to contact the admins.” The administration was sure to be the most informed of anyone about this abnormal situation. The problem was how to reach them. Usually a shout or GM call would work, but if they didn’t now…

“A message maybe?”

There was one magic spell that was a way to contact people. It could only be used in specific places and situations, but it seemed like it would be effective now. The only problem was that it was usually used to communicate between players; he wasn’t sure if it would work to contact a GM. He didn’t even have any guarantee that magic in general would work normally in this crisis.

“But…” He had to find out.

Momonga was a level-100 magic user. If he couldn’t use magic, his area of operations and information-gathering powers would be severely limited, not to mention his combat strength. Right now he had no idea what the situation was, so he needed to confirm as soon as possible whether or not he could use magic.

In that case, I need to go somewhere I can test it out… He looked out over the Throne Room and shook his head. This was an emergency, but he didn’t want to disturb this room’s sublime tranquility for magic experiments. But then where? he thought and came up with an ideal location.

It was also necessary to test the extent of his influence. He had to see whether he had maintained his authority as guild master. So far everyone he had met was loyal to him, but there were several NPCs in the Great Tomb of Nazarick at his level. He needed to make sure the rest of them were still loyal, too.

But… He looked down at Sebas and the maids who were still on one knee and then at Albedo beside him. What is it? her faint smile seemed to say. She was beautiful, but the shadows cast by her horns made it seem like something was hidden behind her smile. It made Momonga nervous.

Is the loyalty they have now inviolable and unchanging? In the real world, a boss who makes stupid moves all the time loses support. Does it work the same way here, or is it once faithful, always faithful?

If I suppose their loyalty could change, how do I maintain it?

By giving them rewards? The treasury contained vast riches. It would pain him to lay a hand on the items his former guildmates had left, but if it was to keep Ainz Ooal Gown going through this crisis, they would forgive him, wouldn’t they? Then, of course, he didn’t have any idea how much he should pay…

Or displaying the excellence you’d expect of a ruler? What constituted excellence, however, was unclear. He had the feeling things would work out if he just kept maintaining the dungeon.

Or… “Maybe through power?” The Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown flew automatically into his outstretched hand. “Overwhelming power?” The staff’s seven jewels began to sparkle, as if appealing for their vast magical power to be used. “Well, I guess I’ll think about it later.”

He let go of the staff. It swayed in the air for a moment and then clattered to the floor like someone going to bed in a huff.

Anyhow, it seemed like if he acted like he was in charge, he was unlikely to meet hostility anytime soon. It’s hard for animals to turn their fangs on one who doesn’t show any weaknesses, and the same thing went for humans.

Momonga raised his voice. “Pleiades! All of you besides the one going with Sebas, go up to the ninth level and be on the lookout for any raiders coming down from eight.”

“Yes, Lord Momonga.” The maids behind Sebas complied.

“Now go immediately.”

“Understood, Lord and Master,” their voices echoed. Sebas and the combat maids all paid their respects to Momonga, stood at once, and set off.

The huge door opened and then closed after them.

I’m so glad they didn’t say no or something. Relieved, he turned to the last remaining NPC—Albedo was still waiting beside him.

“Now, then, Lord Momonga. What may I do for you?” she asked with a gentle smile.

“Oh, uh…right…” Momonga leaned out of the throne to pick up his staff. “Come here.”

“Yes, sir!” She sounded overjoyed and sidled right up. Momonga worried about her wand and the black sphere floating on the end of it for just a moment, but decided to forget about it. She was closer than last time, all but clinging to him.

She smells so good—but what am I thinking? The thought popped up again, but he promptly dismissed it. He didn’t have time for that sort of nonsense now.

Momonga reached out and touched her hand.

“…Ngh.”

“Hm?”

The look on Albedo’s face said she was in pain. He whipped his hand away as if he’d been electrocuted.

I wonder what’s wrong. Did I creep her out?

Mixed in with the numerous sad memories (like having cashiers drop change into his hand from above to avoid accidentally touching him) flitting across his mind, he found the answer.

“…Ohhhh.”

An overlord was a higher rank of elder lich, and one of the special abilities an elder lich could acquire by leveling up was the dealing of damage by touch—normally as an attack. Maybe that’s it?

But even if that was the case, there were still questions remaining.

In Yggdrasil, the system would judge mobs and NPCs within the Great Tomb of Nazarick as belonging to Ainz Ooal Gown. Friendly fire for guild members was always off so allies couldn’t harm one another. So did that mean she didn’t belong to the guild? Or that friendly fire had been turned on?

The latter is a distinct possibility, Momonga decided and said to Albedo, “Sorry, I forgot to turn off Negative Touch.”

“Never you mind, Lord Momonga. That level of damage wasn’t even damage. Besides, I would suffer any agony for you… Eek!”

“Oh, uh…huh… I see. But I’m sorry,” Momonga stammered, not knowing how to act toward Albedo as she made that cute little shriek and covered her blushing cheeks with her hands.

But it did seem like the issue had been damage from Negative Touch.

Averting his eyes from Albedo, who was going on about a virgin’s pain, Momonga tried to think how to temporarily turn off a passive power—and suddenly, it dawned on him: Using any of an overlord’s various powers was now as natural an act as breathing. He found himself laughing in spite of himself at what an extraordinary situation he was in. After all the strange things that had happened so far, it didn’t even surprise him. Adaptability is a terrifying thing.

“I’m going to touch you.”

“Oh…!”

After turning off the ability, he reached out and touched her hand. Countless thoughts came up—how delicate it was, how white—but Momonga dismissed any that stemmed from his being male. What he wanted to know was if she had a pulse.

She does.

The beat was a steady ba-bum, ba-bum. It would be only natural for a living thing.

Yeah, for a living thing…

Momonga took his hand away and looked at his own wrist. There was no skin, flesh, or anything besides a pure white bone. He had no blood vessels, so of course he had no pulse. That’s right, an overlord was undead—a being who had transcended death. Of course he wouldn’t have a pulse.

He looked up at Albedo. He could see himself in her glistening pupils. Her cheeks were awfully flushed—her body temperature was probably skyrocketing. Noting these changes in her was enough to shake him up.

“…What’s going on?”

This is an NPC—just some data, right? What kind of AI can make data look like it’s actually alive? It’s practically as if Yggdrasil has become reality…

That’s impossible.

Momonga shook his head. It can’t be anything as crazy as that. But once the idea had lodged in his mind, it wouldn’t come unstuck so easily. Feeling vaguely uncomfortable about the changes he was noticing in Albedo, he hesitated about what to do next.

His next move would be his last. If I check this last thing, all of my hunches will turn to convictions. The balance that shows whether this is reality or not will swing one way or the other. So I have to do it! I wouldn’t be surprised if she attacked me with that weapon she’s holding…but even so…

“Albedo… Can I touch your ch-chest?”

“Huh?”

The atmosphere froze solid. Albedo blinked, bewildered. The moment he said it, Momonga felt he might die of embarrassment.

Sure, he’d had no choice, but what kind of thing was that to say to a lady? He had the urge to howl that he was the worst person in existence. I’ve abused my power in order to sexually harass a woman—I really am the worst.

But I can’t help it. Yeah. It has to be done.

He forcefully talked himself down and regained his mental equilibrium rather quickly, then mustered all of his coercive power as a superior. “You don’t meow— Mind, do you?”

Utter failure.

His timid words caused Albedo to beam as if she were the sun making all the flowers bloom. “Of course, Lord Momonga! Please have your way with me.” She puffed out her chest and her substantial breasts were ****** into Momonga’s face. If he had had the ability to gulp, he would have surely done so several times.

Her breasts were giving her dress great lift, and he was about to touch them.

On the one hand, Momonga was feeling oddly nervous and shaken, but some corner of his brain was being calmly and objectively self-observant. He started to feel incredibly stupid. Why is this the test I thought of, and why am I actually doing it?

For some reason when he peeked at Albedo, she stuck her chest out even more as if to say, Go ahead, her eyes twinkling.

Was Momonga aroused or ashamed? He willed his hand to stop shaking, made up his mind, and reached out.

Under the dress, he felt something a bit rigid, but beneath that he could feel something soft.

“Ahh… Ngh…” Amid Albedo’s sticky moaning, Momonga got the information he was after.

Assuming he was still sane, Momonga had two hypotheses for explaining the current situation.

One was the possibility of a new DMMO-RPG. In other words, at the same time Yggdrasil had shut down, Yggdrasil II had started up. But that didn’t seem terribly plausible after what he’d just experienced.

In Yggdrasil, doing anything rated R was strictly forbidden. Even PG-13 could be considered out of line in some cases. Violators were dealt with severely: Their names were posted to the list of abusers on the game’s website and their accounts were suspended. That’s because if a log of it were made public, the operators could find themselves afoul of the adult entertainment business laws. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t have surprised Momonga if what he’d just done had been against the rules. If he was still in a game world, there should have been some measure in place to prevent it. In the first place, if the GM and admins were monitoring, they would have tried to stop him, but there was no sign of that.

Additionally, the cyber-tech laws that governed DMMO-RPGs viewed forcible, nonconsensual participation in a game as kidnapping for ransom. If someone were forced to be a test player, it would be immediately exposed. The inability to force quit would probably be seen as illegal confinement, too.

If that was what was going on, the game’s proprietary console had to keep a week’s worth of records by law, so exposing it would be easy enough. When he didn’t show up for work, someone would probably come over to check on him, and once the police investigated the console, that would clear things up.

But was there really a company stupid enough to commit a crime so easy to get caught for in an organization-wide way? Of course, if they said, “It’s an early demo version of Yggdrasil II,” or “We just released a patch,” there was a gray zone, but he couldn’t believe it would be worth it to the developers or admins to take that kind of risk.

So there had to be something at work besides the developers’ intentions. In that case, he needed to make a fundamental change in the way he was thinking or he wouldn’t get anywhere. The problem was that how he should think was unclear. There was one other possibility…

That the fantasy world had become the real world…

Impossible. He promptly rejected the idea. There was no way something so outrageous—so illogical—could be true. On the other hand, the longer this went on, the more he wondered if it might actually be the case. He remembered the fragrance coming off Albedo earlier.

The senses of taste and smell were altogether banned from fantasy worlds by the cyber-tech laws. Yggdrasil had a system for eating and drinking, but anything players consumed only affected their in-game stats. Even touch was regulated to some extent. This was all so that the game couldn’t be mistaken for the real world. As a result of all the limitations, fantasy worlds featuring sex hadn’t really caught on.

But here he could smell.

The reality of that hit Momonga so hard it completely blew away all his What about work tomorrow? and What if I can’t get out of here? type of worries.

“If this weren’t reality… Just in terms of the bandwidth that would be required to run this fantasy, it’d be impossible…”

His mouth was bone-dry, but he swallowed anyway. Even if he couldn’t understand it, his mind had already accepted it.

Finally, he let his hand fall limply from Albedo’s full chest. He felt he’d been groping her a bit longer than necessary, but he told himself it was something he had to do for confirmation. It certainly wasn’t because she was so soft he couldn’t take his hand away… At least, probably not.

“Sorry, Albedo.”

“Ahhh…” She exhaled hotly, and he could feel why her cheeks had turned so red. Then, she said, looking slightly askance, “So here it is, my first time.”

“Huh?!” Momonga let out a confused yelp in spite of himself. It took him a moment to understand what she was saying. “First time”? For what? And what’s with that look on her face?!

“What shall I do with my clothes?”

“…What?”

“Would you like me to take them off myself? Or did you want to do it? If I keep them on, um, they might get dirty… Oh, but if my lord prefers it that way, I have no objections.”

Finally her words sank in. Actually, Momonga wondered if he even had any brain left for them to sink into. Once he understood where all this was coming from, it grated on him. “Stop. Stop it, Albedo.”

“Hm? Yes, sir.”

“Right now we can’t… Er, we don’t have time to be doing such things.”

“M-my humble apologies! I shouldn’t have prioritized desire when we’re having some sort of emergency.” She jumped away from him and went to prostrate herself, but Momonga put out a hand to stop her.

“You’re fine. It was my fault. All is forgiven, Albedo. More importantly…I have orders for you.”

“Anything you wish, my lord.”

“Contact the floor guardians and tell them to gather at the Amphitheatrum in the sixth level one hour from now. I will let Aura and Mare know myself, so there is no need to contact them.”

“Understood. To repeat, you would like me to contact all the floor guardians besides those of the sixth level and tell them to meet in the sixth level’s Amphitheatrum one hour from now.”

“Right. Now go.”

“My lord.” Albedo turned to leave the Throne Room with slightly quickened steps.

Watching her go, Momonga heaved a tired sigh, and once she had left, he let out an agonized moan. “…What the hell. It was just a stupid joke. If I’d have known this would happen, I wouldn’t have done it. Have… Have I defiled the NPC that Tabula created…?” He could think of only one reason Albedo would react to him in that way: the text he’d edited into her bio, “And she’s in love with Momonga.” It had to be connected to that.

“Ahhh, crap!” he groaned.

Tabula Smaragdina had put his all into filling that blank canvas with Albedo’s backstory. Then, Momonga condescendingly painted over it for his own selfish reasons, and now this was the result. He felt like he’d vandalized a masterpiece.

But he had to put that issue aside for now. Still wincing—though it wasn’t obvious, given that his face was a skull he stood up from the throne. He told himself he could figure that problem out after taking care of the more urgent tasks.

1

“Return, demons of Lemegeton!”

At Momonga’s command, the ultrarare ore golems returned to their seats and resumed their postures of vigilance on lighter feet than one would expect for their builds.

The first thing Momonga had done upon resigning himself to officially wondering whether his fantasy world had indeed become the real one was to guarantee his safety. The NPCs he had met a moment ago all submitted to him, but that didn’t mean the ones he would meet next would. Even if they did prove to be allies, there was no telling what dangers might lie ahead. His survival could very well depend on whether or not the Tomb’s facilities, golems, items, magic, etc., all functioned as in the game or not, which made confirmation of those things his most urgent priority.

“That should be good for now,” Momonga said to himself out of relief as he surveyed the golems. He’d ordered them not to take commands from anyone else, so in the worst-case scenario of an NPC rebellion, he would at least have one way to protect himself. Satisfied with the robust figures of the golems, he looked down at his own finger bones.

There were nine rings on his ten fingers; the only one that didn’t have one was his left ring finger. In Yggdrasil, it was normally only possible to wear one ring per hand, but by purchasing an expensive cash store item with a permanent effect, Momonga had gained the ability to wear them on all ten, as well as use all the powers they contained. Not that that made him very special—if a player prioritized being strong, buying that item was a no-brainer.

The ring Momonga was looking at now bore the same crest that was embroidered on the scarlet tapestry hanging behind the throne. It was a Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown, a magic item that every member of the guild possessed; he wore his on his right ring finger.

He could use all the powers of ten rings, but he’d had to choose which ones when he used the item that allowed him to equip that many. It was impossible to swap after the fact. Compared to his other rings (including the one he wasn’t wearing, stored in the treasury), this one’s power was pretty basic, but he wanted it at the ready, since, in certain circumstances, he used it far more than any of the others.

The Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown let its wearer teleport freely to almost any named room within the Great Tomb of Nazarick. It was even possible to teleport in from outside. The Tomb blocked teleportation magic except for in designated areas, so there was no more useful way to get around. There weren’t very many places, save the Throne Room and the members’ individual rooms, that couldn’t be teleported to. Without this ring, however, there was no way to get to the treasury. So it wasn’t something he would want to be without.

Momonga exhaled deeply. He was about to exercise the ring’s power, but he wasn’t sure what would happen. Would it work as expected? He was anxious but had to know.

He unleashed the power and his vision went dark, like he’d blinked.

The scenery changed—now he was in a dimly lit passage. The end was blocked by a barred gate. White artificial light came in through the gaps.

“Success…,” he murmured, relieved that he’d been able to teleport. He set off walking down the broad, high-ceilinged passage toward the gate. The stone floor caused his footsteps to reverberate loudly. Flickering torchlight sent shadows dancing along the walls, making it seem like there was more than one of him.

As he neared the gate, his nostrils, which should have just been holes leading to nowhere, were invaded by scent. He stopped to breathe in and out. A pungent green odor and the scent of earth—this was the smell of deep forest.

Having his nose working again, like it had before with Albedo—even though it should have been impossible in the game’s fantasy world—made Momonga feel even more strongly that this place was now reality.

But with no lungs and no respiratory tract, how am I even breathing? He racked his brains, but soon realized trying to reason the problem out was ridiculous and abandoned the idea.

When he got close enough, the gate drew quickly up into the ceiling like a well-timed automatic door. Passing beneath, Momonga saw the Colosseum, with its multiple levels of spectator seating encircling its central arena. It was an oval of 615 by 510 feet, 157 feet high, identical to the Colosseum built in Rome during the imperial period. Continual Light was cast in various locations, throwing enough white light that he could look around the area and see as if it were high noon. There were too many seats to count, and in them, a great many clods of “dirt”—no sign of movement from the golems.

This place was called the Amphitheatrum. The actors were captured raiders, the audience was made up of golems, and in the VIP seating would be the members of Ainz Ooal Gown. What was on the program? A slaughter, of course. With the exception of the 1,500 in that huge raid, every intruder, no matter how strong, had met their end here.

Momonga walked into the center of the arena gazing up at the pitch-black night sky. If there hadn’t been any light, he probably would have been able to see the stars.

Of course, this was the sixth level of the Great Tomb of Nazarick. Being underground, the sky hanging overhead was a false one. But it was made with quite a lot of data, so it changed with the passage of time, and there was even an accurately arcing sun that rose and set. Was the reason that even this fake sky could take the weight off Momonga’s chest and relax him because under all the graphics he was still human? Maybe also because it was programmed according to the particularities of a former guild member. He wished he could just stay and take it easy, but the situation didn’t allow that.

Momonga glanced around. They’re not here. The twins should be managing this place, but… Just then he felt someone looking at him.

“Yaaa!” At the same time the shout sounded, a figure hopped down from the VIP seating. That was the equivalent of six stories up, but the figure flipped in midair and made a featherlight landing. It wasn’t due to magic, but simply great physical technique. Having absorbed the full shock of the landing by just bending its legs, the figure flashed a proud grin and made peace signs with both hands. “Victory!”

It was a child of perhaps ten who had jumped down. The most apt descriptor for that smile was “radiant like the sun.” She had that kind of androgynous cuteness only children have.

Her golden hair reflected light in a way that made it look almost like she had a halo. Her eyes, bright like a puppy’s, were two different colors—forest green and ocean blue. As a dark elf, a relative of the elf race, her ears were long and pointed, her skin tan.

She wore fitted, dark red dragon scale light armor, top and bottom, over a layer of basic leather protective gear. On top of that, she sported a white vest with golden threading, featuring the crest of Ainz Ooal Gown on the chest, and white pants to match. A big golden acorn hung from her neck. Her hands were protected by gloves with magic metal plates on the backs of the palms. Whips were bundled at her waist and right shoulder, and across her back, she carried a bow with peculiar decorations on the grip, handle, and limbs.

“Oh, it’s Aura.” Momonga murmured her name in recognition. Aura Bella Fiora was one of the guardians of the sixth level, a beast tamer-ranger who could employ fantastical and magical creatures.

She came running toward him with short steps that somehow carried her crazily fast, like an animal running flat out. She closed the distance in an instant and put the brakes on. Her sporty shoes inlaid on top with scarletite sent up a cloud of dust as they scraped along the ground. If she had calculated it out so that not a speck would reach Momonga, she’d done a brilliant job.

“Phew.” She wiped her forehead even though she wasn’t sweating and smiled like a puppy who wanted to play. Then she greeted Momonga in that ever so slightly too-loud voice that only children have: “Welcome to the floor I guard, Lord Momonga!” Compared to Sebas and Albedo she was less deferential and more familiar, but that was actually more comfortable for Momonga. He didn’t have much experience with all of this, so being overly revered only made it harder to know how to act.

He wasn’t getting any hostility from Aura’s ear-to-ear grin, and Sense Enemy didn’t pick up anything, either. His emergency plan had been to attack with full power and promptly retreat, but it seemed like that would be unnecessary. “Thanks. I thought I’d come bother you for a bit.”

“What are you talking about? You are the master of the Great Tomb of Nazarick—its absolute ruler! No one would ever feel bothered to receive a visit from you, Lord Momonga!”

“Oh, hm… By the way, I see that you’re here, Aura, but…?”

As if taking a cue, Aura turned on her heel, glared up at the VIP seats, and shouted, “Hurry up, c’mon! Lord Momonga is here! You’re being rude!”

Up in the darkness of the VIP seats, Momonga saw something bouncing up and down in a fidgety way. “Oh, Mare’s over there, huh?”

“Yes, Lord Momonga, he is. He’s such a wimp… Get down here!”

A weak little voice replied. In fact, it was a wonder they could even hear it, considering their distance from the VIP seats, but it was made possible by the magical necklace Aura had equipped.

“I-I… Sis, there’s n-no way…”

Aura sighed, exasperated. “Oh, uh, Lord Momonga, he’s just a bit of a coward. He’s not being rude on purpose.”

“Of course. I know that, Aura. I’ve never for a moment doubted your loyalty to me.” Momonga nodded and gave a kind answer to put her at ease. Adults need to know their inner feelings as well as what their outward-facing stance would be. Sometimes it was necessary to tell a little lie.

Aura seemed relieved, but a moment later she turned in anger to the figure up in the VIP seats. “Our elite lord has graced us with his presence, and one of the floor guardians can’t even come out to meet him?! That’s the worst and you know it! If you don’t have the courage to move your own butt, we’re gonna try it with my foot next!”

“Nnn… I’ll… I’ll take the stairs…”

“You mean you’re going to keep Lord Momonga waiting even longer?! Get over here already!”

“Ahh, f-fiiiine… H-here goes!” It was a pretty pathetic little shout for someone trying to psych himself up, but he did hop down.

Another dark elf. The difference between him and Aura was like night and day, but although he stumbled upon landing, it didn’t seem like he’d taken any damage from the fall. He must have neutralized it with pure physical ability.

Then, he came running at a speed that matched the sound of his light footfalls. He was giving his all, naturally, but was still hopelessly slow compared to Aura.

She must have been thinking the same thing, because her brow began to twitch. “Hurry up!”

“I-I-I am!”

The child who finally arrived looked just like Aura. Same hair color and length, same eye colors, same facial features—they couldn’t be anything but twins, but if Aura was the sun, then Mare was the moon. He trembled as if expecting to be chewed out at any moment. Momonga was a bit surprised by both of them.

The Mare he knew wasn’t like this at all. Of course, NPCs generally just stood there rigidly with their fixed expressions; it didn’t matter how long of a bio they were given, it was never reflected in their personalities. Yet here they were before him, two dark elves, with rapid-fire emotions.

“So this is how Teapot meant for them to be…” BubblingTeapot was the guild member who had set up Aura and Mare. He wished he could show them to her now.

“S-sorry to keep you waiting, Lord Momonga.” Mare looked up at him nervously. The scales of his upper body dragon armor were more indigo than blue. He also wore a short mantle of dark green that almost exactly matched the leaves of the forest. Most of his clothes were white like Aura’s, but he was wearing a skirt so short it left a little skin showing—only “a little” because of his white stockings. His acorn necklace looked just like Aura’s, but silver. He wasn’t as heavily armed as his sister; in his hands, which wore slender white gloves with a silky sheen, he clutched a gnarled staff of black wood, and that was it. Mare Bello Fiore. He was the other guardian of the sixth level.

Momonga smiled kindly—not that his empty eye sockets showed it—and took a good look at the two of them. Aura proudly puffed out her chest while Mare trembled under his gaze. Satisfied that they were indeed the crystallization of his guildmate’s intentions, he nodded several times and then spoke. “More than anything I’m just glad to see you’re both doing well.”

“Yeah, we’re great! Just lately it’s been so boring. It’d be nice if some raiders would come for a change!”

“I-I don’t want any raiders to come… Th-they’re scary…”

Mare’s words wiped the excitement off Aura’s face, and she sighed. “Sorry, Lord Momonga. Please excuse us. Mare, come with me a minute.”

Momonga gave a slight nod, and Aura moved away a bit, dragging Mare by his pointy ears. “O-oww! A-Aura, that hurrrts!”

Then, she started hissing at him. Even at a distance, Momonga could tell she was giving him a scolding.

“Raiders? I’m actually with Mare on that one…” I’d at least like them to wait until I get my feet on the ground, he thought as he watched the twins.

The next thing he knew, Mare was sitting erect with his legs tucked under him and Aura stood before him lecturing. The situation was reminiscent of the power struggle between the two of his former guildmates who were sisters, and he smiled wryly.

“Geez, but I don’t think Peroroncino made Mare. Maybe Teapot had the idea that one should obey one’s elder sister? …Actually, now that I think of it, both Aura and Mare have died once before… I wonder what happened with that…”

In the raid where 1,500 men attacked, the huge army got as far as the eighth level. In other words, Aura and Mare died attempting to hold the sixth level, but did they remember it?

What does death mean for the two of them?

In Yggdrasil, characters who died lost five levels and dropped one of their equipped items. That meant that characters level 5 or under were destroyed. Player characters were spared destruction by divine grace and stopped at level 1. Of course, that was speaking strictly of the rules of the game.

In actuality, spells such as Resurrection and Raise Dead could ease the level penalty, and cash store items let players get off with just losing some experience points. In the case of an NPC, it was even simpler. The guild could revive a character with no penalty by paying a fee according to its level.

Dying to lose levels ended up being a favorite way for people to rebuild their characters. Certainly in a game where an enormous amount of experience was required, losing even one level would be an extreme punishment, but in Yggdrasil it was pretty easy to rack up levels until the upper 90s. The developers set it up so that losing levels wasn’t such a terrifying thing. Their intent was not for people to be so scared of losing levels that they didn’t want to explore, but for them to venture bravely into new territory.

Under those rules, were these two who had died in the 1,500-man raid now different people? Or were they the reincarnations of those exact characters?

He did want to know, but he also felt like there wasn’t any reason to wake sleeping dogs. That huge raid might have been a traumatizing experience for them. He also wondered if it was really necessary to prod so much just to satisfy his own curiosity when Aura wasn’t showing any hostility. After all, these were lovable NPCs that his guildmate made. He could talk to Aura about it after all the other pending matters had been taken care of.

Plus, it was possible that the entire concept of death had changed entirely. In the real world, dying was the end naturally. But what if that were different here? Momonga thought he’d like to experiment with it in the near future, but he couldn’t determine how high a priority it should be until he had more information. It was probably best to just put it on the back burner for now. At this point, he didn’t know how different this world was from Yggdrasil, so all he had was a great many questions.

While he was pondering all of this, Aura had continued berating Mare. Momonga couldn’t help but feel bad for him. He never said the kid deserved this much scolding. When the two sisters in his guild had fought, he had kept his mouth shut and just watched, but now he was different.

“How about we leave it at that?”

“Lord Momonga! But Mare’s not fulfilling his duties as a gua—”

“I have no issue with his behavior. Aura, I understand very well how you feel, including your thinking that as a floor guardian Mare shouldn’t be so timid, especially around me. But should the Great Tomb of Nazarick be raided, I believe that both you and Mare will fight fearlessly in the face of death to protect it. If he’ll do what needs to be done when the time comes, you don’t need to scold him so much.” Momonga, who had walked closer to them, grabbed Mare’s arm and stood him up. “And Mare, you should thank your big sister for being so kind. Even if I were upset, after seeing her chew you out like that, there’d be nothing I could do but forgive you.”

Mare’s eyes widened and he looked at his sister in surprise. Aura chimed in hastily, “Huh? N-no, that’s not why I did it! I didn’t think anything like that about you!”

“It doesn’t matter, Aura. No matter what your intent was, your kindness came through. I just want you to know that I have no misgivings about Mare being a floor guardian.”

“Huh? Oh, uh, okay! Thank you, Lord Momonga!”

“Th-thank you!”

He accepted their bows, but couldn’t help but get the willies from the way their eyes lit up when they looked at him. He’d pretty much never been looked at with such admiration, so he cleared his throat to hide both his hesitation and embarrassment.

“Ahem, more importantly: Aura, I wanted to ask you about what you were mentioning before. You said you’re bored when no one is raiding us?”

“Ah, well, no, I mean…” From her backpedaling, Momonga could see he’d phrased his question badly.

“No, I’m not accusing you of anything. Please tell me honestly.”

“Well, yes, it is a little boring. There isn’t anyone strong enough to train with around here,” Aura answered, looking up at him, poking the tips of her index fingers together.

As a guardian, Aura’s level was, of course, 100. There were not so many level 100s in the dungeon—including Aura and Mare, nine NPCs. Plus one other.

“What about sparring with Mare?”

Mare had scrunched up as though he were trying to hide, and now a shudder went through his whole body. His eyes glistened as he shook his head no. He was terrified. Aura reacted with a sigh again.

As she exhaled, a sickeningly sweet fragrance filled the air. It was different from Albedo’s, a syrupy aroma that seemed to cling somehow. Recalling her powers, Momonga took a step back.

“Oh! I’m sorry, Lord Momonga!” Realizing what had happened, Aura flapped her arms around to clear the air.

One of Aura’s passive skills as a beast tamer was the ability to use both buffs and debuffs at the same time. The effects drifted into the air on her breath and could have a radius of dozens of feet to a hundred or more—using an additional skill could make the range unbelievably huge.

In Yggdrasil, buff and debuff icons would pop up so players understood clearly when they were in effect, but in their current situation, they problematically did not.

“Umm, it’s okay now. I turned it off!”

“Oh…”

“But Lord Momonga, you’re undead, so psychic stuff shouldn’t have any effect on you.”

That’s the way it had been in Yggdrasil. Psychic abilities had neither good nor bad effects on the undead.

“…Was I in range just now?”

“Urk.” Aura scrunched up her shoulders in fear of the coming rebuke. Even Mare shrank a bit.

“…I’m not angry, Aura,” Momonga said as kindly as he could. “Relax. Did you think you could affect me with a skill you weren’t even using seriously? I’m just asking if I was in range or not.”

“Got it! Uh, you were in range.” From Aura’s voice, filled with relief, Momonga realized how terrible and awe inspiring he was to her.

A prickling pressure assailed him under his clothes in the area where his stomach would have been if he’d had one. What if I end up weaker because of this? The thought of it made him want to run away at full speed.

“And what was the effect?”

“Uh, I think the one from just now was…yes, fear.”

“Hmm…”

He didn’t feel fear. In Yggdrasil, friendly fire had been disabled, so players couldn’t harm members of their guild or other teammates. Here, however, there was a high possibility that that had changed; he knew it would be good to confirm one way or the other right away.

“I thought it used to be the case that your powers couldn’t have any negative effects on people in the same guil— Group.”

“Huh?” Aura’s blank expression was matched by Mare. Momonga gathered that it hadn’t been the case.

“Must have been my imagination?”

“Yes, but I can control the range of the effects at will, so maybe that’s how you misunderstood?”

So friendly fire was on. The reason Mare hadn’t been affected was probably because he was equipped with an item that could neutralize psychic effects. Meanwhile, Momonga’s god items didn’t have any psychic resistance data in them. So why hadn’t he felt fear?

He had two guesses: basic resistance based on his ability points or psychic effects immunity due to a special undead ability. He decided to dig a little deeper, since he wasn’t sure which one was correct.

“Can you try out some other effects for me?”

Aura cocked her head and made an odd questioning noise. She seemed like a puppy again, so Momonga reached out to pet her in spite of himself. Her smooth, silky hair was delightful to touch. When she didn’t seem to mind, he wished he could just stay there petting her forever—except Mare’s glazed stare freaked him out, so he stopped. I wonder what he’s feeling…

After thinking for a moment, Momonga released his other hand’s grip on the staff and stretched it out to pet Mare. Absentmindedly thinking how the texture of Mare’s hair seemed somehow better than Aura’s, he petted the both of them until he was quite satisfied. Then, he finally remembered what he’d gone there to do.

“Now, then, I have a favor to ask. I’m testing out a lot of things at the moment and…I want your cooperation, Aura.”

At first the two of them looked like they didn’t really know what to do, but by the time he took his hands away, they seemed self-consciously happy and willing.

“Okay, understood! Leave it to me, Lord Momonga!” Aura gleefully replied.

She was enthusiastic to get going, but Momonga held her back. “Before that—” He grabbed the floating staff.

Okay, just like before. As he had done when he used the ring’s power, he focused his mind on the staff. Of its countless powers, the one Momonga chose was contained within one of its jewels—inside a god artifact, the Moon Orb.

Summon Moon Wolf!

As the summoning magic activated, three beasts oozed into existence out of nowhere. Nothing about this surprised Momonga, since that was how the animation had looked in Yggdrasil.

The moon wolves were similar in appearance to Eurasian wolves, except they gave off a silvery light. Momonga could sense a strange connection between these monsters and himself that clearly indicated who was in charge.

“Moon wolves?” Aura asked, her voice implying confusion at why he would summon such a weak monster.

Moon wolves were extremely fast, so they were often deployed as key units in sneak attacks, but they were only level 20—too weak for Momonga and Aura. But for their purposes right now, these were fine. Weaker was actually better.

“Yes. Include me in the range of your breath, too.”

“What? Are you sure?”

Aura didn’t seem okay with it, so he insisted, “It’s fine.”

Things weren’t operating completely like they had been in the game anymore, so he couldn’t ignore the possibility that Aura’s powers weren’t working correctly. In order to rule it out, he needed to be hit with her power at the same time as a third party, hence the moon wolves.

Aura huffed and puffed for a little while, but Momonga didn’t feel a thing. Partway through, he turned his back to her and relaxed his mind, but there was still no effect. The moon wolves did seem affected, though, so her power must have been working. Therefore, it seemed Momonga was immune to psychic effects. In other words…

In Yggdrasil, when subhumans and grotesques reached certain race levels, they gained specific racial abilities. Momonga, who had reached the elite race of overlord, had the following monster powers: Create Upper-Tier Undead (four per day); Create Middle-Tier Undead (twelve per day); Create LowerTier Undead (twenty per day); Negative Touch; Aura of Despair V (instadeath); Negative Guard; Dark Soul; Raven-Black Halo; Immortal Blessing; Impure Providence; Black Wisdom; Evil Language Proficiency; Ability Point Damage IV; Stabbing Weapon Resistance V; Cutting Weapon Resistance V; Greater Repel Resistance III; Greater Physical Damage Immunity III; Greater Magical Damage Immunity III; Chill, Acid, Electric Attack Immunity; Magical Vision Boost: See Through.

Add to that the abilities from his class level: Boost Instadeath Magic, Master of Dark Rites, Immortal Aura, Make Undead, Control Undead, Fortify Undead, etc.

He also had the basic undead special abilities: Critical Hit Immunity; Psychic Effect Immunity; No Hunger/Thirst; Poison, Sickness, Sleep, Paralysis, Instadeath Immunity; Resistance to Ghost Magic; Physical Penalty Resistance; Breathe Anywhere; Ability Point Damage Immunity; Energy Drain Immunity; the ability to recover from Negative Energy; Night Vision, etc.

Of course, he also had weaknesses: Justice, Light, Holy Attack Vulnerability IV; Battering Weapon Vulnerability IV; Holy, Justice Area Ability Point Penalty II; Double Fire Damage, etc.

It seemed extremely likely that he still possessed both the basic undead abilities and the special abilities he had gained from leveling up.

“I see. That’s good enough for now… I thank you, Aura. Any issues on your end?”

“No, everything’s fine.”

“Okay. Return!” The three moon wolves disappeared as if time were rewinding.

“Lord Momonga, was that why you came to our floor today?” Aura asked, but Mare nodded that he was curious, too.

“Hm? Oh right, no—I thought I’d do some training today.”

“Training? You?!” Aura’s and Mare’s eyes practically popped out of their heads. What was this most elite caster, the ruler of the Great Tomb of Nazarick who dominated all manner of lesser beings, talking about? But Momonga had expected this.

“Yes.”

The tap of the staff on the ground accompanying his simple reply was enough for them to understand. Momonga was inwardly pleased that their reaction matched what he’d anticipated.

“I-i-is that, uh, the legendary you-know-what? The most elite weapon only you can touch?”

What does she mean by “legendary you-know-what”? Momonga wondered, but it didn’t seem to be anything bad given the sparkle in Mare’s eyes.

“That’s right. This is the Guild Weapon we all created together, the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown.” He lifted it into the air and it sparkled beautifully in the light. It was such a gorgeous display it was almost as if the staff was showing off—except it was still exuding that ominous black shimmer, so it was hard to see it as anything but evil.

Momonga didn’t have a body type that could burst with pride, so to speak, but the passion was clear in his voice. “The jewels held in each of the seven snakes’ mouths are all god artifacts. Since the items are part of a series, collecting them all yields great power. Gathering them took serious effort and an immense amount of time. In fact, there were many times we thought to quit. How many mobs did we hunt for the drops…? Furthermore, the power contained within even just the staff itself surpasses god tier and is on par with a World Item. Most impressive of all is its automatic intercept— Ahem…”

…I’m totally rambling…

It was only natural to want to brag—he’d crafted it with his guildmates, but since he’d never been able to take it anywhere, he’d never had the chance to show off. That was no excuse to gush right now, though. He suppressed the urge to keep boasting.

It’s pretty embarrassing actually…

“Well, yeah, that’s about it…”

“W-wow!”

“That’s amazing, Lord Momonga!”

The sparkles in the kids’ eyes made him want to break into a huge grin. Trying to keep a straight face—not that his expressions came through so well via his skull anyway—he continued speaking. “Anyhow, I’d like to do some experiments. Can you get things ready for me?”

“Yes, sir! Understood! I’ll begin preparations right away. And then…is it okay if we watch?”

“Sure, I don’t mind. I’m the only one who can hold it, so you should at least have a look.”

“Yess!” shouted Aura, bouncing around so cute and joyful. Mare couldn’t hide how happy he was, either—his long ears were twitching.

Oh, man. Hey, dignified expression of mine, no slipping, Momonga told himself, mobilizing all his willpower.

“Oh, and Aura, I’ve called all the floor guardians here. They should arrive in less than an hour.”

“Huh? Th-then, we have to get ready to welcome the—”

“No, don’t worry about that. You can just wait for them here.”

“If you say so… Hm? All the floor guardians? So Shalltear will be here, too?”

“All the floor guardians.”

“Ah…” Her ears suddenly drooped.

Mare seemed more or less okay. The backstory had Aura not getting along with Shalltear very well, but his case must have been different.

“How are they going to react…?” Momonga whispered under his breath.

2

A party of about fifty riders galloped across a grassy plain. All of them were equally brawny, but one stood out from all the rest.

There was no word more fitting for him than robust. It was plain even through his breastplate that his whole body was covered in bulging muscles. He was in his thirties. Deep creases formed when he knit his tan brow. His black hair was neatly trimmed and his black eyes gleamed with the sharpness of a dagger.

The rider next to him spoke. “Captain, we’ve almost reached the first village on our patrol.”

“Yes, it seems that way, Vice-Captain.”

This was Gazef Stronoff, pride of the Re-Estize Kingdom and captain of its guard. The village had not yet appeared down his line of sight.

Suppressing his impatience, Gazef maintained a steady speed. Though they weren’t driving their horses to exhaustion, it had been quite a march from the royal capital to here. A hint of fatigue had taken up root in his core. Certainly the same could be said for the horses. It wouldn’t do to burden them any further.

“But I really hope it’s nothing…” The vice-captain spoke again. His voice betrayed his anxiety, and Gazef felt the same.

The mission the king had given them was to “find the imperial knights spotted near the kingdom’s border and subdue them.”

Under normal circumstances, it would have been faster to send soldiers from the nearby city of E-Rantel, but the empire’s knights were strong and well outfitted. The gap between them and the kingdom’s recruits was clear. The only soldiers in the kingdom that had a chance against the knights were the ones directly under Gazef. But it was foolish to leave everything up to them like this. Even just mobilizing some troops to guard the villages until Gazef and his men arrived would probably have been enough to stave off the enemy. There were plenty of other options as well. Just currently, they weren’t being—no, they couldn’t be—taken.

Gazef knew why and it irritated him to no end. He did his best to relax his grip on the reins, but he couldn’t extinguish the blaze of his inner emotions.

“Captain, it’s ridiculous for us to get to the village and then begin the search. And since you brought all of us, couldn’t we divide up the labor? Or better yet, we could hire some adventurers from E-Rantel and ask them to find the knights. Why are we doing it like this?”

“…Don’t say that, Vice-Captain. Nothing good will come of everyone finding out there are imperial knights throwing their weight around inside the kingdom’s borders.”

“Captain, there’s no one to hear us now. I want you to tell me the truth.” A faint smile played across the vice captain’s face, but it was the exact opposite of a kindly grin. “Are the nobles interfering?” The vice-captain practically spat the words, and Gazef didn’t reply. Because the answer was yes. “So the damned nobles plan to use the victims as pawns in their power struggle? And since this area is directly under the king’s jurisdiction, I suppose they’ll use any suffering as an excuse to make snide remarks.”

“Not all the nobles think that way.”

“I’m sure there are some who, like you say, think of the people. Like the Golden Princess. But how many? …If the king could just take absolute power like the emperor next door, he could ignore the damned nobles and focus on the people.”

“If we force things, sides will be taken and the country will split. Causing an internal conflict with an expansionist empire next door would be even worse for the people.”

“I know, but…”

“Let’s drop it for now…” Leaving it at that, Gazef pursed his lips and turned his penetrating gaze forward.

Black smoke rose from beyond a small hill up ahead—and not just one or two trails. There wasn’t a man present who didn’t know what that meant. Gazef clicked his tongue and kicked his spurs into his horse’s flanks.

The scene that flooded their vision when they crested the hill was what they had expected. The village had been burned to ashes. The scattered house wreckage still standing was like grave markers.

Gazef gave orders in a steely voice. “Company, begin maneuvers. On the double!”

•

The village was burned to the ground. Only the collapsed remains of houses still bore any resemblance to their former shape. Walking through the wreckage, everything smelled like charred ashes mixed with the stench of blood.

Gazef’s face was steady, no trace of emotion, but that itself showed most clearly what he must have been feeling. The same went for the vice-captain, walking beside him.

Of the more than one hundred villagers, only six had survived. The rest had been massacred—women and children alike, even infants.

“Vice-Captain, escort the survivors to E-Rantel.”

“Please don’t do this! That would be the most…”

“You’re right—it’s a foolish plan. But we can’t just leave them here like this.”

E-Rantel was directly under the king’s jurisdiction and protecting these villages was his job. If they abandoned the survivors, it would be a terrible blow to the king. And it was easy to see that the nobles trying to corner him would make noise about it, too.

And more importantly…

“Please rethink this. We should retreat to E-Rantel for the time being and get ourselves in order.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Captain! I’m sure you realize, but this must be a trap. The timing of the attack on the village lines up too well with our arrival in E-Rantel. They waited for us before committing this atrocity. I’d even venture to say that the fact that they didn’t kill every last person means it can’t be anything but a trap.” The survivors hadn’t managed to escape the knights by running and hiding. The attackers just didn’t kill them. Their aim was probably to force the military to divide their strength to protect them. “Captain, you can’t mean that you’re going to chase them down knowing full well it’s a trap!”

“…That was my intention.”

“Are you serious? Captain. It’s true that you’re strong. I’m sure you could fight one hundred knights and come out victorious. But the empire has a caster. If that old man is with them, it’s risky, even for you. You’re not fully outfitted right now, so losing to the Four wouldn’t be out of the question, either. So I’m begging you, please withdraw. No matter how many more villages fell, losing you would be a bigger loss for the kingdom!” In response to Gazef’s silence, the vice-captain continued with pain in his voice. “If you can’t withdraw, then let’s all leave the survivors and go after them.”

“That…is probably the wisest choice, but it would mean abandoning lives that could be saved. Do you really think they could make it if we left them here on their own?”

The vice-captain had no response. He knew the chances were slim. If they didn’t provide an escort and take them somewhere safe, they’d be gone within a few days. Still the vice-captain said—he had to say—“Captain. The most valuable life here is yours. We can’t be worried what happens to the villagers.”

Gazef knew it was killing the vice-captain to say such things, and he was angry at himself for forcing the issue, but he still couldn’t accept it. “I was born a commoner. You were, too, right?”

“Yes. I aspired to the Select because I looked up to you.”

“You lived in a village, right?”

“Yes, that’s why—”

“Death is like a next-door neighbor when you live in a village. It’s not so rare for a monster to attack and kill people, right?”

“Right…”

“Mere soldiers can’t always handle a monster. If you don’t have the money to hire a specialist in monster extermination—an adventurer—all you can do is lie low until it leaves.”

“Right…”

“So, didn’t you ever hope? Hope that a noble would appear in your hour of need? That someone with power would come and save you?”

“It’d be a lie if I said I didn’t, but no one ever came. At least, the nobles of the domain we belonged to never gave us any financial help.”

“So let’s show them we’re different. We’re going to save the villagers.”

The vice-captain’s voice caught as he remembered his past.

“Vice-Captain. Let’s show ’em that there are people out there who will risk their lives despite the danger, that there are strong who will protect the weak!”

The men’s eyes met and exchanged a multitude of emotions.

Finally, the vice-captain spoke, sounding tired but aiming to convey his passion. “…Then I’ll take my men and go. I may be replaceable, but you’re not.”

“Don’t be absurd! There’s a better chance we make it back alive if I go, too. We don’t go to our deaths; we go to save the people.”

The vice-captain’s mouth worked for a moment, then closed. “I’ll choose who will escort the villagers to E-Rantel right away.”

•

As the sky reddened, human shapes began to appear one after another on the grassy plain. There were forty-five of them. The way they appeared out of nowhere was not due to camouflage, but magic.

One glance was enough to tell they were not mercenaries, travelers, or adventurers. They all looked the same, clad in armored clothing woven out of special metallic thread to prioritize mobility and defense. Due to magical fortification, however, these clothes had even greater defense and, in fact, were more effective than a full suit of armor. Their leather bags weren’t very full and didn’t seem like the kind of thing someone on a journey would carry

—that is, as long as they weren’t also magic. The specially made belts around their waists held multiple potions and the mantles draped across their backs radiated magical auras.

Gathering enough magical items for all those people would have been no easy feat, either of coin or in terms of time and effort. Being so well equipped was proof that they had nation-level support behind them. Despite that, there was nothing on any of their gear displaying their rank or affiliation. In other words, they were an unlawful group with reason to hide.

They looked toward the abandoned village. Gazing upon the ruins enveloped in the stench of burning and blood produced not a flicker of emotion in their eyes. They looked on coolly, as if it were a matter of course.

“We let him get away, huh?” A low voice spoke with a hint of disappointment.

“…There was nothing we could do. Have our decoy continue attacking villages. We must lead the beast to its cage.” The man’s sharp gaze followed Gazef and the others as they headed away.

“Tell me where the decoy should strike next.”

3

Momonga prepared to cast a spell, stretching his fingers out slowly toward a straw figure set up in a corner of the arena.

The magic he specialized in was more about secondary effects, like instadeath, than simply dealing damage. For that reason, it didn’t work so well on nonliving targets. A situation like this called for straightforward damage-dealing magic, but he had chosen his class’s ghost tree and beefed up his repertoire with those type of spells. As a result, in terms of damage dealt, he was a few tiers behind magic users who specialized in combat spells.

Momonga peeked at the children—their eyes sparkled with curiosity. The anxiety of whether he could live up to their expectations or not weighed him down.

Next he stole a glance in a different direction, where there were two huge monsters. They stood ten feet tall with inverted triangle figures. Muscles rippled over frames that were a combination of human and dragon. Covering the muscles were scales harder than steel. The monsters had dragon-like faces and tails thick as tree trunks. Despite the lack of wings, they looked very much like dragons standing upright. In their arms, thicker than a man’s torso, they each held some kind of weapon (a sword? a shield?) that was half as long as they were tall. They were dragonkin, employed by Aura via her beast-tamer skills to keep the arena clean. They were only level 55 and had no special abilities to speak of, but the punches they could dish with their strong arms paired with their seemingly inexhaustible health meant they could hold their own against higher-level monsters.

Breathing a little quickly, Momonga turned back to the straw figure. Honestly, having everyone watching with such high expectations is putting me on the spot. The point of this exercise was to check if he could even use a spell or not.

The reason he’d allowed Aura and Mare to watch was so he could show them his power before the others arrived and teach them how foolish it would be to oppose him. Of course, it was impossible for him to imagine these children betraying him, and there was certainly no sign that they might do such a thing, but Momonga wasn’t confident they would remain loyal to him if it turned out he had lost the ability to cast spells.

Aura interacted with him as if they were old acquaintances, but from Momonga’s perspective they might as well have met for the first time. Of course, her background was all based on ideas from the guild and both of the children were guild member–created treasures, but it wasn’t as if all their behavioral patterns, their responses to any situation, were set in stone. There was definitely what Momonga supposed could be called a “loophole” in their settings.

If they were intelligent living things that thought and behaved autonomously, they would eventually come across a situation that their bios did not prepare them for. And how would things turn out if there was nothing in there about devoting themselves to their master even if he was weak? Actually, there were probably more cases where loyalty was not specified at all, in which case obeying orders or not all came down to individual judgment. If disobeying was as far as it went, that was fine, but what if someone wanted to rebel against the guild master if they thought he wasn’t cutting it?

Being more skeptical than necessary was a problem, but it was also stupid to blindly trust them. I’ll just have to feel it out as I go. That was what made the most sense to Momonga under the circumstances.

His other aim in having the twins there was to get advice in the event he couldn’t cast a spell. They thought he was there to test the staff. He already knew magic items worked, so he could wield as much deception as necessary.

My plan is perfect.

He patted himself on the back and wondered if he had always been so sharp and composed, but there was no one who could answer that question for him.

Momonga cleared the doubts from his mind and considered the magic he’d been able to use in Yggdrasil. The total number of magic spells in Yggdrasil, from tiers one to ten, plus super tier, was well over six thousand. These were split into various trees, but of the total, Momonga could use 718. Normally a level-100 player could use about three hundred, so that was an insane amount.

Not only that, but he’d memorized them all so he could choose the most appropriate spell for every situation—including this one. First, since friendly fire was on, he had to know what the area of effect would look like, so he would have to select a spell not based on how many enemies, but based on the area. And if this is my target, then…

In Yggdrasil, all he’d had to do to cast a spell was tap an icon, but he couldn’t do that anymore, so he had to find another way. He thought he might already have it partially mastered. He focused on the powers deep inside him, just as he had when he’d turned off Negative Touch. Just imagine there are icons floating in the air… He laughed to himself. I got it.

He had a perfect grasp of what the area of effect would be and how much time it would take before he could cast again. The confidence in his ability came with a serious high—the fulfillment and satisfaction of knowing that his magic was truly his own power. He’d never felt like this in Yggdrasil.

As if transmuting the delight that had bubbled up inside him—his swiftly calming mind intensified the high—he gathered it at his fingertips and spoke the word of power: “Fireball!”

A ball of flames grew from the tip of his finger, shot off at the straw figure he was pointing at, and hit just where he’d aimed. The ball burst on impact, instantly scattering the flames it had contained. The expanded flames raged through the area, even scorching the ground, in a flash.

The whole thing had only taken a second. Nothing was left of the straw figure but burned-up remains.

“Heh-heh-heh-heh…” Momonga let slip a laugh only he knew the meaning of and the twins looked on, puzzled.

“Aura, ready another straw figure.”

“Oh—yes, sir! Right away! Hurry and set it up!” One of the dragonkin stood a new figure next to the charred one.

Momonga walked leisurely over, turned toward the straw figure, and cast a spell: “Napalm!”

It went slightly astray but suddenly formed a column of flames that then engulfed the area and swirled up into the sky. After a beat, Momonga cast another spell at the figure that had been reduced to debris. “Fireball!”

The figure was obliterated on impact.

The spells’ cooldowns were the same as in Yggdrasil. Actually, since for an area-of-effect spell he didn’t have to first select the spell and then aim by moving the cursor showing the area, he might have been able to cast even faster.

“Perfect.” His satisfaction took the form of this remark, voiced of its own accord.

“Lord Momonga, should I prepare some more straw figures?” Aura did seem puzzled. She knew from before that Momonga possessed incredible power, so she probably didn’t understand what was such a big deal about stunts like this. But that was exactly the impression he’d wanted to make on the twins, so their confused expressions were proof of his success.

“No, that won’t be necessary. I want to test something else now.” Once he’d declined Aura’s request, he set about his next objective.

“Message.” First, he would try to contact a GM. The way the Message spell worked in Yggdrasil was that if the player being contacted were in the game at the time, the caller would hear a cell phone–like ring, but if they weren’t, it would just disconnect. Now it was maybe a cousin of that spell. Momonga felt like he was putting out a feeler to search for something. The sensation was difficult to describe, and he was experiencing it for the first time in his life. It continued for a little while and then, with nothing to connect to, the spell timed out.

Well, that’s discouraging.

He repeated the same spell, this time not aimed at a GM. He was calling the old members of Ainz Ooal Gown. He attempted it with 1 percent hope, feeling 99 percent like nothing would come of it, and as expected, there was no response. After calling all forty members and confirming no response from anyone, he slowly shook his head. He’d known it was hopeless, but getting slapped in the face with reality was quite a downer. He cast the spell once more, at Sebas.

It connected!

So it was clear that Message was indeed—alas—working. There was still the possibility that it would only connect to characters in this world, but…

“Lord Momonga.” The deeply deferential voice echoed in his head. Momonga wondered if Sebas was bowing on the other end like a businessman in the real world would have been.

Sebas must have been unsure how to interpret the silence caused by Momonga’s extraneous musing because he spoke again, sounding perplexed. “Is…something wrong?”

“Oh, uh, sorry. It seems I spaced out for a moment. By the way, what’s it like out there?”

“We’re on a grassy plain, and I haven’t been able to confirm the existence of any intelligent life.”

“A grassy plain… No bogs?”

The Great Tomb of Nazarick used to be located deep in a swamp inhabited by frog-like people known as tsveiks. The whole area was covered by mist, and there were poisonous bogs here and there.

“No, just a grassy plain.”

Momonga laughed in spite of himself. Who knows what the heck is going on now?

“So Nazarick as a whole has been teleported to some unknown location…? Sebas, is there anything up in the sky? Any signs or signals?”

“No, nothing like that. Just the same night sky as the sixth level.”

“What?! A night sky, huh? There’s nothing else in the area that catches your eye?”

“No, not in particular. Aside from the Great Tomb of Nazarick, I don’t even see any man-made structures.”

“I see, I see…”

What could he say? The only thing left for him to do was rip his hair out (although somewhere in his mind he had been prepared for this possibility).

Sebas’s silence indicated he was awaiting direction. Momonga glanced at the band on his left wrist. There were about twenty minutes until the other guardians would arrive, in which case there was only one order that made sense to give.

“Be back in twenty minutes. Once you’ve returned to the Tomb, come to the Amphitheatrum. I’m assembling all the guardians, so I’ll have you report what you’ve seen.”

“Understood.”

“Okay, get as much information as you can before then.”

After getting Sebas’s confirmation, he ended the spell. Just as he was thinking he’d take a break, having finished everything he needed to do for the moment, he remembered the two children and their expectant gazes.

He needed to show them the power of the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown, since he’d said he would. He took the staff into his hand but couldn’t decide what magic to unleash. It was as if all its countless powers were begging to be used. I should probably go for something pretty showy. So he chose the Fire Orb and from among its powers cast Summon Primal Fire Elemental.

Obeying Momonga’s will, power stirred within a jewel in one of the snakes’ mouths. Sensing that the flow of power was adequate, he pointed the staff. A huge sphere of light grew at the end and an incredible storm of flames whipped up around it. The vortex rapidly expanded to a diameter of thirteen feet and a height of about twenty feet.

The crimson purgatory kicked up a hot wind, and out of the corner of his eye, Momonga saw the dragonkin move in front of Aura and Mare to protect them. His robe flapped in the waves of heat. It could’ve easily burned him, given the temperature, but Momonga had compensated for the weakness to fire he shared with all undead with perfect resistance, so he was unaffected.

After increasing its size by consuming all the air in its vicinity, the swaying tornado of flames emitted a glow like fusing iron and took on a humanoid shape.

The primal fire elemental was one of the highest-level elementals, falling in the upper 80s range. Momonga felt the same connection with it that he had with the moon wolves.

“Whoa.” A gasp escaped Aura’s lips as she marveled at the monster. It was impossible to call forth such an elite elemental with regular summoning magic, and the look on her face was like a kid who’d gotten the toy she’d always wanted.

“Want to try fighting it?”

“Huh?”

“Wh-what?”

She was lost for a moment, but then the natural smile of a child played across her face. Actually, for a child it was a bit—well, rather—twisted; Mare’s expression was more childlike.

“You’ll let us fight it?”

“Sure, I don’t mind. It’s no big deal if it gets defeated.” Momonga shrugged. The staff’s power allowed him to summon one a day. In other words, it didn’t matter if this one got taken down, because he could summon another one the next day.

“Uh, I just remembered something I have to do…”

“Mare!” She grabbed him with an iron grip when he tried to make a run for it. Apparently she wasn’t going to let him escape. She snagged him with her smile. To Momonga, it was the smile of an adorable little girl, but he wondered if it looked different to someone with the same face; Mare was scared stiff.

Aura dragged him in front of the primal fire elemental. His eyes darted around seeking succor, finally finding Momonga. In reply to his radiant ear-to-ear grin, Momonga joined his palms to mimic a prayer. The light on Mare’s face went out.

“Well, don’t overdo it, you two. It’d be silly to get hurt.”

“We won’t!” Aura responded cheerfully. Mare’s voice was there, too, but gloomy, like he was being escorted to his doom. Momonga figured they wouldn’t get hurt as long as Mare was there, so he used his connection to the primal fire elemental to order it to attack.

The twins engaged the roaring flames of the attacking elemental with Aura forward and Mare in back. Aura double wielded her whips to lash the hovering monster into submission, and Mare’s magic steadily racked up damage.

“Yeah, I figured this would be no problem for them…”

The battle may have been one-sided, but he continued to watch while he went over in his head the other things he had to investigate. He’d already confirmed that magic and some items worked, but there were still other items he wanted to check—most importantly, scrolls, staves, and wands. Objects like these contained magic. Scrolls were single use while staves and wands came with a certain amount of casts.

Momonga possessed quite a few of these. He was the type that felt using up consumables was a waste. He refused to use the highest-grade recovery potions, even on the final boss. He’d gone beyond cautious to plain stingy, so his inventory had just piled up. In Yggdrasil, they’d been stored in his item box, but where were they now?

Recalling how he used to open his item box, he stretched his fleshless hand into the air. He felt it slip into something; it was almost like breaking the surface tension of water. He was sure for an onlooker it must have looked like part of his arm had disappeared into the air. Then, as if he were opening a window, he made a broad sliding motion to the side. A window did open, right in the air, and inside were several staves lined up all neat and tidy. This was definitely Yggdrasil’s item box.

He moved his hand to scroll through what he supposed one could call his “inventory screen.” Scrolls, wands, weapons, armor, decorations, jewels, potions, and other consumables—he had a vast number of magical tools. Momonga’s face broke into a relieved smile. With all this, I should be able to protect myself even if everyone in the Tomb turns against me.

Still absentmindedly keeping his eye on Aura and Mare’s fierce battle, Momonga summarized all the information he’d collected so far.

Are the NPCs I’ve met programs?

No. They were beings with consciousness just like humans. It was impossible to capture such subtle emotions with code. He needed to assume that they were no longer programs but had somehow become equivalent to humans.

And what is this world?

That was unclear. Considering Yggdrasil’s magic existed, it would be valid to suppose he was inside the game, but taking into account the previous answer, that couldn’t possibly be the case. That said, it was either the game world or some other world, one of the two. Not that either made any sense.

How should I conduct myself?

He’d confirmed that he could use his powers as he could in Yggdrasil. So, if all the NPCs and monsters in the Great Tomb of Nazarick were also based on Yggdrasil data, he would have no enemies. The problem would be if there were something not from Yggdrasil, but all he could do was cross that bridge when he came to it. For now, he had to just act with the dignity of a ruler—assuming he could muster such a thing.

What’s the plan?

Work to gather information. He didn’t know what this world was, and at the moment, he was like an ignorant tourist. He needed to keep his wits about him and cautiously gather as much information as he could.

Say this is some other world—should I try to get back to mine?

Good question. If he’d had any friends, he’d probably try to go back. If his parents were still alive, he’d risk his life to find a way back. If he’d had a family to take care of or a lover…

But he had none of those things.

He went to the office, worked, came home, and slept. Up until now, he’d log onto Yggdrasil and keep things ready in case any of his guildmates wanted to come back, but he didn’t even have that anymore. Was there any point in going back to such a world?

But, if he could get back, then he knew he should put in the effort. One could never have too many options. The world outside the Tomb could very well be hell.

“Okay, what do I do?” Momonga’s lonely words to himself evaporated into the air.

4

The primal fire elemental’s gigantic body disappeared as if melting into the air and the heat that had been thrown around the area rapidly dissipated. Momonga also felt the bond of dominance he’d been vaguely aware of break.

The primal fire elemental had extraordinary destructive power and stamina, but for Aura, who demonstrated impressive evasive action and had complete immunity to the fire damage that had been hitting everything in the area, it might as well have been target practice.

Of course, if she had gotten hit, she would have lost a significant portion of her health, but Mare, as a druid, would never let that happen. He used an appropriate mix of buffs and debuffs to support her.

Their style of fighting was a magnificent division of roles between forward and rear positions. Momonga was struck both by that and by how raw the action had felt—it had been a real fight, not something from a game.

“Magnificent… You were both…wonderful!”

The children smiled at his heartfelt words of admiration. “Thank you, Lord Momonga! It’s been a while since we’ve gotten such a workout!”

The two of them casually wiped the sweat from their faces, but the moment they did, it beaded up again and began to drip down their tan skin.

Momonga silently opened his item box and took something out for the first time in this world: the Bottomless Pitcher of Water.

Yggdrasil had systems for eating and thirst, etc., but since Momonga was undead, none of them applied to him, so he had never used the item himself. He’d been using it for his mounts.

The pitcher was made out of a transparent material that seemed like glass and was filled to the brim with fresh water. Perhaps due to how cold the water was, countless droplets had condensed on the outside of the container. Next, he took out two clean glasses, filled them, and offered them to the twins. “Aura, Mare, please drink this.”

“What? We couldn’t possibly, Lord Momonga.”

“Y-yeah, we don’t need to trouble you for that. I can make water with my magic.”

Aura waved her hands in polite refusal, and Mare shook his head quickly back and forth. Seeing them like that made Momonga wince.

“Oh, c’mon, it’s water. Just a small token of my thanks for all your hard work.”

“Ahhh…”

“Ohhh…”

Aura and Mare, blushing, nervously reached out their hands to take the glasses.

“Th-thank you, Lord Momonga!”

“I can’t believe you’re pouring drinks for us!”

Does it really make you that happy?

This time Aura didn’t refuse, but took the glass in both hands and gulped it down. The movements of her throat were clearly visible, and water that overflowed from the corners of her lips ran down her lustrous neck and disappeared into her chest. Mare, meanwhile, held the cup in one hand and took measured sips. The difference in their personalities was made abruptly apparent just from the way they drank.

Watching them, Momonga brought a hand to his own throat. It felt like there was a membrane stretched directly over his cervical spine.

He hadn’t felt thirsty since entering this body. Or tired. He understood that it was only natural for an undead to not feel any of those things, but the idea of not being human anymore seemed like it had to be a joke.

He felt around his body some more. Skin, flesh, blood vessels, nerves, organs. He was missing all manner of things; he had a body made solely of bone. He’d known that, but now he groped around so it would sink in.

His sense of touch was slightly dull compared to when he was human, almost like there was a thin cloth between him and anything he went to touch. Meanwhile, his other senses performed outstandingly. His hearing and vision were extremely sharp.

Since his body was built entirely of bones, it seemed like it could break at any moment, but he also had the sense that each bone was more solid than steel.

Although this body was completely different from his old one, there was a strange satisfaction and sense of fulfillment knowing it was his. Perhaps that was why he wasn’t frightened by his transformation.

“Want another glass?” He held up the Bottomless Pitcher and offered once the children had finished their water.

“Umm, nope! That was enough for me!”

“I see. Mare, how about you?”

“Oh! U-um, I-I’m okay. M-my throat’s not dry anymore.”

Momonga nodded, took the glasses back, and put them away into the air.

“I thought you were more scary, Lord Momonga,” Aura said softly.

“Oh, really? I can be scarier if you like…”

“No, I like you better like this! Way better!”

“Then I’ll stay like this.” Aura’s animated response had thrown him off a bit.

“Y-you’re not this nice only to us, are you?”

Momonga didn’t know how to respond to her quiet murmurs, so he just patted her on the head several times.

“Eh-heh-heh-heh…” She was like a puppy presented with its favorite food. Mare looked on jealously. Suddenly they heard a voice.

“Oh? Am I the first?” It sounded younger than one might expect from the tone. At the same time, a shadow spread across the ground, rose up out of it, and took on the shape of a door. Then, someone walked slowly through.

Her whole body was wrapped in a soft-looking raven-black ball gown with a full, wide skirt. She covered up on top with a bolero cardigan featuring frills and ribbons. Add to all that her fingerless lace gloves and almost all her skin was hidden from view. Only her shapely face—unparalleled was the right word to describe it—was visible, its almost waxy white skin exposed. Her long silver hair was gathered to one side and up so not a strand of it fell in her face. Her crimson eyes had a weirdly jubilant look in them.

She was fourteen or possibly younger. There was still some child in her, and her beauty was borne of that mix of cuteness and adult attractiveness. One thing that was out of balance, however, was how big her chest was for her age.

“Teleportation is restricted in Nazarick for a reason! Don’t just go using a gate! You entered the arena the normal way, so couldn’t you have just kept walking, Shalltear?” An exasperated voice sounded right next to Momonga. The icy tone had nothing of the puppyishness of just a moment ago. On the contrary, it was full to overflowing with hostility.

Next to Aura, Mare began trembling again. It was probably wise of him to be inching away from his sister. Even Momonga was a bit alarmed by the sudden change in her.

The girl, Shalltear, who had arrived using the highest level of teleportation magic, cast not so much as a glance at Aura, but stood squirming a bit before Momonga. She smelled pleasantly like perfume.

“You reek,” Aura muttered softly, adding that maybe her undead body rotting was to blame.

Perhaps because she had caught Momonga instinctively lifting his arm to check if he smelled, a dark blue vein stood up on Shalltear’s forehead.

“Oh, come now, you can’t say that—Lord Momonga is undead, too…”

“Huh?! What are you talking about? Lord Momonga’s not regular undead. Pretty sure he’s like ‘super undead’ or ‘godly undead’ or something.”

Hearing Shalltear and Mare express their satisfaction with such an explanation (“Oh…,” “Right…”), Momonga felt somewhat insignificant. I don’t know what it’s like here, but at least in Yggdrasil I was just plain undead… More to the point, “super undead” and “godly undead” didn’t exist.

“S-still, what you said was kinda bad.”

“Y-you think so? Okay, then, take two. Ahem… ‘Maybe it’s ’cause of your rotting dead flesh.’”

“I… Yes, I suppose that will do.” Accepting Aura’s second take, Shalltear slipped her arms around Momonga’s neck to embrace him.

“Ahh, my master, the sole being I cannot conquer.” Her wet tongue showed itself between her parted red lips. It moved over them as if it were its own separate animal. From her open mouth came sweet-smelling breath.

All of this would have been extremely becoming of a bewitchingly beautiful adult, but at her age, something was off. The awkward mismatch was even a bit endearing. In the first place, she wasn’t tall enough, so instead of embracing him, it just seemed like she was trying to hang from his neck.

Despite all that, Momonga was unaccustomed to attention from women and was plenty bewitched. He nearly took a step backward but made up his mind to stand still.

Was her personality always like this? He couldn’t get the question out of his mind. But since the one who wrote her backstory was Peroroncino, it was entirely possible that this was just how she was. That guy loved porn games more than anything and had even adopted “Porn games are my life!” as his personal catchphrase. And that good for-nothing had written the bio of Shalltear Bloodfallen. She was the guardian of levels one through three and a true vampire, as well as a little girl who’d been given a pile of X-rated video game character traits.

“I think that’s enough…”

Shalltear responded to the low, hard voice and sneered at Aura. “Oh, hello, squirt. I didn’t see you there.”

Momonga didn’t feel like bothering to point out that they’d just been talking a moment ago.

Ignoring Aura and her twitching, irritated expression, Shalltear addressed Mare. “It must be hard for you to have such an odd elder sister. You should get some distance from her as soon as possible. If you don’t, you might end up the same way!”

Mare’s face went sickly pale—he knew she was using him to pick a fight with his sister.

But Aura smiled. “Shut up, Miss Fake Boobs.”

She’d dropped a bomb.

“How’d you know?!”

“Ooh, she broke character,” Momonga said to himself. There was no sign of her forced elegant cool.

“One glance is enough to tell! Look how bizarrely poofy they are. How many layers of padding did you use?”

“Wahhh! Wahhh!” Shalltear flailed her hands as if to erase the words out of the air. Now she looked her age.

Meanwhile, Aura had an evil grin on her face. “If you use that much padding…I bet they must shift around when you run, huh?!”

“Yeek!” Shalltear emitted a strange scream now that she was caught.

“Bull’s-eye! Neh-heh-heh! Your boobs slip, so that’s why you used a gate—so you could get here in a hurry without having to run!”

“Shut it, pip-squeak! You don’t have any! I at least have a litt— I mean, I’m pretty big!” Shalltear frantically fired back, but Aura only grinned even more evilly. Shalltear took a step back as if she’d been shoved. The fact that she was trying to inconspicuously shield her chest was kind of sad.

“I’m still only seventy-six! I’ve got plenty of time ahead of me! It must be tough being undead with no future. You don’t grow!”

“Ugh,” Shalltear groaned and retreated farther. She had no comeback for that, and it showed plainly on her face. Aura noted this and stretched her slit-like grin even farther.

“You should be satisfied with what you got—pft!”

“Now that you said it you can’t take it back!”

Shalltear’s gloved hands began to exude a shimmering black haze. Aura had her whips ready to intercept. Before the two of them stood a flustered Mare. Momonga felt like he was watching a scene from the past and couldn’t decide whether to stop them or not.

Peroroncino, who had created Shalltear, and BubblingTeapot, who had created Aura and Mare, were brother and sister. They used to have good-natured squabbles sometimes, like this. Momonga almost felt he could see the shadows of his former guildmates fighting behind the two NPCs.

“WHAT A RACKET.” Momonga was basking in reminiscences of his old guildmates when the hard, twisted voice of something not human speaking human words stopped Aura and Shalltear’s quarrel short.

Standing in the direction from which the voice came (who knew how long he’d been there) was a grotesque throwing a chill into the air. He looked like an eight-foot-tall bipedal insect. If there were such a thing as a combination of an utterly demonic mantis and an ant, it’d probably look like this. From his sturdy tail that was double his height and the rest of his body sprouted countless icicle-like spikes. His horizontally closing lower jaws were surely powerful enough to sever a human arm with no trouble.

Two of his arms carried a silver halberd and the other two held a horrifying yet excellently made mace giving off a sinister black aura and a broadsword so warped it seemed impossible for it to ever be sheathed.

He was wrapped in a chill that sparkled like diamond dust and his light blue exoskeleton was like armor. His back and shoulders bulged like icebergs.

This was the guardian of the fifth level, “Sovereign of the Frozen River,” Cocytus. He struck the ground with the blade of his halberd and the earth around it slowly froze.

“YOU AMUSE YOURSELVES TOO MUCH BEFORE A SUPREME BEING.”

“She’s being disrespectful to—”

“I’m just telling the truth—”

“Arrrrgh…”

Mare panicked as Shalltear and Aura glared at each other again, eyes fearsomely flashing. Momonga was over it all by now and warned them both in a voice he made deep on purpose, “Shalltear, Aura, that’s enough playing around for now.”

Both of them jumped and then hung their heads in unison. “I’m sorry!”

He nodded to generously accept their apology and then turned to the newly arrived figure. “Thanks for coming, Cocytus.”

“I COME IMMEDIATELY WHEN YOU CALL, SUPREME ONE.”

White breath escaped from between Cocytus’s mandibles and in response came a cracking noise as if the moisture in the air were freezing solid. It was a cold on par with the heat of the primal fire elemental. Just being near him was enough to cause all sorts of low-temperature status effects and physical damage, but Momonga didn’t feel a thing. Though really, there was no one in the room who didn’t have some way to resist fire, chill, and acid attacks.

“Have you been bored with no raiders these days?”

“THERE CERTAINLY HASN’T BEEN MUCH GOING ON…” His mandibles clicked. It sounded like the threatening clicks of an angry hornet, but Momonga chose to think he must be laughing.

“BUT THAT SAID, I HAVE THINGS TO DO, SO I CAN’T SAY I’VE BEEN BORED.”

“Oh! ‘Things to do’? Do you mind telling me what?”

“TRAINING SO THAT I MAY BE OF USE TO YOU AT ANY TIME.”

Cocytus, not that it was apparent from the way he looked, was a warrior, both personality-wise and by design. Of those in the Great Tomb of Nazarick who used weapons, he had the highest attack power.

“To be of use to me? Thanks.”

“HEARING THAT SINGLE WORD MAKES IT ALL WORTH IT. OH, IT SEEMS DEMIURGE AND ALBEDO HAVE ARRIVED.”

Following Cocytus’s line of sight, Momonga saw two shadows near the entrance of the arena. Albedo was in front. A man followed behind her as if in attendance. When they’d gotten closer, Albedo smiled and bowed deeply to Momonga. The man also gave an elegant bow before speaking. “Sorry to keep you all waiting.”

He was about six feet tall with skin the shade of a suntan. He had Asian features and his jet-black hair was slicked back. The eyes behind his round glasses were not so much slivers as closed. He wore a three-piece suit with a necktie and had the air of a shrewd businessman or lawyer.

Even though he presented himself as a gentleman, he couldn’t hide his evil nature. Behind him stretched a silver plated tail with six spines on the tip. This man, scattering dark flickering flames, was “Creator of the Inferno”—Demiurge. He was the demon who commanded NPC defense operations and the guardian of the seventh level.

“This is everyone, then.”

“Lord Momonga, it seems we’re still missing two.” It was a voice that wormed its way into hearts and drew one in with its richness. All Demiurge’s words came with a passive skill called Incantation of Influence. It was a power that caused the weakhearted who heard him to instantly become his puppets. That said, no one in the room was affected. It only worked on targets of level 40 and below, so all those present merely heard it as a particularly luscious voice and nothing more.

“Their presence isn’t necessary. They’ve both been assigned to prioritize other tasks. We don’t need to interrupt them for this.”

“If that’s all right, then…”

“IT SEEMS MY COMRADE IS NOT HERE, EITHER…”

Aura and Shalltear stopped short. Even Albedo’s smile froze.

“He’s…only a guard for one part of one of my floors…”

“Y-yeah…”

Shalltear forced a smile and Aura chimed in while Albedo nodded.

“Ahh, the Prince of Fear? Well, we should probably notify the domain guardians as well. Please pass the information along to Crimson, Grant, and the others. I’ll leave it up to each floor guardian.”

There were two types of guardians in the Great Tomb of Nazarick. One was the type that all those before Momonga now were, floor guardians who were each in charge of one or more levels. The other was domain guardians who guarded part of a level. Put simply, domain guardians worked under the floor guardians to protect one section of a level. Since there were so many of them, they were somewhat underappreciated, and in Nazarick the word guardian generally indicated a floor guardian.

Once everyone had indicated their understanding of Momonga’s order, Albedo spoke. “Now, then, let us perform the ritual of allegiance.”

The guardians all nodded, and before Momonga could get a word in, they’d arranged themselves with Albedo in front and the other guardians lined up behind her. Their expressions were all stiffly ceremonious. Any hint of a jokey atmosphere had vanished.

Shalltear, at the end of the line, took a step forward. “Guardian of the First, Second, and Third Levels, Shalltear Bloodfallen. I bow before you, O Supreme One.” She dropped to one knee and put a hand over her chest, bowing her head low. After Shalltear, Cocytus stepped forward.

“GUARDIAN OF THE FIFTH LEVEL, COCYTUS. I BOW BEFORE YOU, O SUPREME ONE.”

He took the same humble posture as Shalltear and bowed to Momonga. Next, the two dark elves stepped forward.

“Guardian of the Sixth Level, Aura Bella Fiora. I bow before you, O Supreme One.”

“G-Guardian of the same, Mare Bello Fiore. I b-bow before you, O Supreme One.”

As expected, they also got down on one knee and bowed their heads low. Shalltear, Cocytus, Aura, Mare. They were built differently, so there should have been some discrepancy in the size of their steps, but their kneeling positions formed a straight line.

Then Demiurge took a graceful step forward. “Guardian of the Seventh Level, Demiurge. I bow before you, O Supreme One.” Though his tone was cool, he made an extremely heartfelt bow without breaking his elegant demeanor. Finally, Albedo stepped forward.

“Captain of the floor guardians, Albedo. I bow before you, O Supreme One.” Smiling faintly at Momonga, she kneeled in the manner of the other guardians. But for Albedo, that wasn’t the end. With her head bowed, she made her voice carry and gave her last report. “Excepting Guardian of the Fourth Level, Gargantua, and Guardian of the Eighth Level, Victim, the floor guardians have gathered to prostrate ourselves before you… Your orders, O Supreme One! We offer our complete devotion to you.”

Being faced with their six bowed heads was practically enough to make his gulp audible despite a lack of anything to gulp with. The air was tense. Or maybe it was only Momonga who felt on edge.

I don’t know what to do…Normal people probably never experience something like this even once in their lives.

In the confusion, he accidentally activated some of his skills and emitted an aura throughout the area. A halo appeared behind him. Without even the composure to cancel them, he frantically fought to remember everything he’d seen in movies or on TV to get an idea of how to conduct himself.

“Raise your heads.” All of their heads rose together in so crisp a motion that he practically expected to hear a whoosh. It was so simultaneous that he wondered if they’d been practicing.

“Well, then… For starters, I appreciate you all gathering here.”

“Please save your appreciation. We offer you not only our devotion, but our very selves. It is most natural that we should heed your call.”

None of the other guardians tried to cut in. As captain, Albedo was truly their unified voice.

Seeing all their earnest expressions turned his way, Momonga felt a lump in the throat he didn’t even have. The pressure to behave like a ruler was weighing him down.

But that wasn’t all. His orders would determine their future. He started to feel indecisive. The worry that the Great Tomb of Nazarick might collapse due to a decision he made flitted across his mind.

“Lord Momonga, you seem irresolute. That is only natural. You must wonder whether it is even worth accepting our help.” Her smile had vanished and a determined look tensed her features. “However, if you honor us with your orders, we the floor guardians will suffer any trials to carry them out with all our bodies and souls. We vow to serve in such a way as will bring no shame upon our Creators, the Forty-One Supreme Beings of Ainz Ooal Gown.”

“We vow it!” The other floor guardians echoed Albedo in chorus. Their voices were filled with an unstoppable power—their loyalty was like a priceless diamond sneering at Momonga for worrying they might betray him.

It was as if the darkness before his eyes had vanished in the morning light, and a shiver went through him. He realized how wonderful the NPCs his guildmates had made really were. The radiance of Ainz Ooal Gown’s glory days was here now. He was so happy to have the fruit of his guildmates’ labor with him that his dignified expression broke. Of course, there were no major changes to his bony face, but the beautiful red spark in his eyes burned more brightly.

With no trace of his former anxiety, Momonga spoke smoothly, like the guild master he was. “Wonderful, guardians. It is my firm belief as of this moment that you can understand my aims and are capable of accomplishing them without error.” He surveyed their faces once more. “Now, then, there may be some points that are unclear, but I want you to listen carefully. It appears the Great Tomb of Nazarick has unexpectedly become involved in some sort of situation, and it’s unclear how it happened.”

The floor guardians’ serious expressions didn’t flinch.

“The cause is unclear, but we know for sure that the Tomb has been teleported out of the swamps and into a grassy plain. Is there anyone who saw any signs this might happen?”

Albedo gazed over her shoulder at the faces of each floor guardian. After reading their expressions, she said, “No, my apologies, but no one had any idea this would happen.”

“Then I’d next like to hear from each floor guardian. Did anything strange happen on your levels recently?”

Now they spoke up individually for the first time.

“Nothing strange happened in the seventh level.”

“Nor in the sixth.”

“L-like my sister said.”

“THE SAME GOES FOR FIVE.”

“Nothing strange happened in the first, second, or third levels.”

“Lord Momonga, I would like to investigate the fourth and eighth levels immediately.”

“Very well, I’ll leave that up to you, Albedo, but take care in the eighth level. If something happened there, it’s possible you may not be able to deal with it.”

After Albedo deeply bowed in acknowledgment, Shalltear spoke.

“Then I’ll investigate the surface.”

“Oh, I already sent Sebas out to explore the surface.”

Albedo had been there when he’d given the order, so she wasn’t surprised, but the others couldn’t hold their shock back from appearing on their faces.

The Great Tomb of Nazarick had four NPCs with superior melee combat skills. Cocytus had the highest attack power when armed. Clad in heavy armor, Albedo had no equal when it came to guarding. Sebas was the best in a pure fight, and when he showed his true form, his total combat ability probably outstripped the previous two. Then, there was one who outstripped all three of them.

The guardians’ shock must have been at the fact that Momonga would send Sebas, who boasted no weaknesses and all manner of strengths in a head-on fight, out to do a task so simple as reconnaissance. They took this as a sign of how wary he was about the unusual situation they were in and the reality of the crisis began to sink in for them, too.

“Well, it’s about time to wrap up, but—” Momonga caught sight of Sebas jogging toward him. When he arrived, he slowly lowered himself to one knee like the others.

“Lord Momonga, I apologize for my lateness.”

“No matter. More importantly, what’s it like out there?”

Sebas looked up and cast a momentary glance at the guardians.

“This is an emergency. It’s only natural that we should inform the floor guardians.”

“Yes, my lord. For a half-mile radius, it’s all grassy plain. I could not confirm any man-made structures. I saw a number of small animals as one might expect to be living in such a place, but there were no humanoids or large life-forms.”

“Are the small animals monsters?”

“No, the creatures did not appear to have any combat ability to speak of.”

“Aha… And this grass, is it the sharp, stiff type that stabs you as you walk through it?”

“No, just plain meadow grass. There is nothing special about it.”

“You didn’t see any floating castles or anything?”

“No, none. There was no sign of any man-made light in the sky or on the ground.”

“I see. A starry sky, then… Nice work, Sebas.” Momonga expressed his appreciation but felt a bit discouraged about how little information he’d been able to get.

Still, now he more or less knew that they were not in the world of Yggdrasil, although there remained the question of how he could use his in-game equipment and cast spells like usual.

It wasn’t clear why they’d been teleported or where they’d ended up, but it seemed like they should raise Nazarick’s alert level. They might be in someone else’s territory. Suddenly taking up residence in someone else’s territory without permission would surely invite anger. They’d be lucky if “anger” was as far as it went.

“Guardians. First, raise the alert level by one on each floor. There are too many unknowns right now, so don’t let your guard down. Take any raiders alive. Capturing them without injury would be ideal. It goes without saying, but we don’t want to complicate things while we’re in this uncertain situation.”

Everyone bowed together in understanding.

“Next, I’d like to hear about how things operate here. Albedo, how do you share security information among floors?”

In Yggdrasil, they’d just been NPCs operating according to their programs. There shouldn’t have been any movement of information or mobs among floors.

“The security of each level is left up to the individual guardians, but we do have a system for sharing information, which Demiurge oversees.”

Momonga was slightly surprised but then nodded his head in satisfaction.

“Splendid. Defense Operations Coordinator Demiurge and Floor Guardian Captain Albedo, I trust you to work toward a more perfect system.”

“Yes, my lord. To clarify, we can except levels eight, nine, and ten from the system?”

“Victim has eight covered, so that one is fine. Actually, I’m making eight off-limits. I take back the order I gave you earlier, Albedo. As a general rule, only those with my express permission will be allowed to enter the eighth level. Undo the seal that prohibits direct travel between the seventh and ninth levels, and let’s have the security system cover the ninth and tenth levels as well.”

“I-is that all right with you?” Albedo’s astonishment was plain on her face.

Behind her, Demiurge’s eyes opened wide, and he said what they were actually thinking. “You will permit lowly minions to enter the domain of the Supreme Ones? Is the situation so serious as that?”

Minions were the monsters that members of Ainz Ooal Gown did not create, the mobs that spawned automatically. Come to think of it, with very few exceptions, there were no minions in the ninth or tenth levels. Momonga wasn’t sure what to say.

Albedo seemed to think those areas were some kind of holy ground, but the truth couldn’t have been further from that. The reason there were no mobs assigned to the ninth level was simply that by the time a group of raiders broke through the eighth level where all the strongest monsters were, they figured they didn’t have much chance of winning, so they decided they would just lurk in the Throne Room like proper villains.

“I have no problem with it. This is an emergency, so let’s up our guard.”

“Understood. I’ll choose the very best, most noble minions for the job.”

Momonga nodded and turned to look at the twins.

“Is it possible to hide the Great Tomb of Nazarick somehow? I’m not sure if illusions alone will cut it and thinking about the energy required to maintain something like that gives me a headache.”

Aura and Mare put their heads together. After a moment, it was Mare who spoke. “I-it would be difficult to use magic if we need to hide all the parts that are aboveground… But maybe if we covered the walls with dirt and grew plants out of it…?”

“You intend to soil the walls of glorious Nazarick?” Albedo addressed Mare over her back. Her tone was sweet and gentle, but the emotions contained were confrontational.

Mare’s shoulders jerked. None of the other guardians spoke, but they all seemed to be in agreement with Albedo.

To Momonga, however, her comments were unnecessary heckling. They weren’t in a position to be concerned with such things. “Albedo, don’t interrupt. I’m talking with Mare.” Even he was surprised at how deep his voice was.

“Ah, my apologies, Lord Momonga!” She bowed low, her face frozen in fear. Sebas and the guardians’ expressions instantly stiffened as well. Although the reprimand was directed at Albedo, they must have taken it personally.

From the sudden shift in mood, Momonga realized he’d said too much and regretted it, but he continued his discussion with Mare. “Is it possible to cover the walls with dirt and hide us?”

“Y-yes. That is, if you’ll forgive me doing such a thing…”

“But if we were spotted from a distance, wouldn’t a huge mound of dirt seem out of place…? Sebas, are there any hills in the area?”

“No, unfortunately it seems to be flat; however, I can’t say for sure that I didn’t overlook something due to its being nighttime.”

“I see… But if we want to conceal our walls, Mare’s plan is a brilliant one. What if we mounded up dirt in the area to create dummy hills?”

“In that case, we would stand out a little less.”

“Okay. Mare and Aura, work together on that. Go ahead and take anything you need from the levels. We’ll conceal the tall parts you can’t cover later with illusions that work on anyone not from Nazarick.”

“Y-yes, sir. Understood.”

That was all Momonga could come up with for the moment. He felt like he was probably missing a lot of things, but they could always discuss them later. It had only been a few hours since the crisis began.

“Okay, that’s it for today. Everyone take a break and then begin your tasks. It’s hard to tell when we’ll be able to take it easy for a bit, so don’t work too hard.” The guardians bowed their heads in understanding. “Finally, there is something I would like to ask each of you. First, Shalltear: What kind of person do you see me as?”

“A concentration of beauty. You are truly the most beautiful person in this world. Jewels don’t hold a candle to your fair body,” Shalltear replied promptly. It was obvious from the unhesitating speed at which she responded that what she said was what she really thought.

“Cocytus?”

“YOU ARE STRONGER THAN ALL THE GUARDIANS AND TRULY FIT TO BE ABSOLUTE RULER OF THE GREAT TOMB OF NAZARICK.”

“Aura?”

“You’re merciful and exceedingly considerate.”

“Mare?”

“I think you’re s-super nice.”

“Demiurge?”

“You are wise in judgment and always make use of your energy to get things done. And I think the word inscrutable describes you well.”

“Sebas?”

“You were the leader of the Supreme Beings. And you are the merciful one who did not forsake us, but stayed.”

“Last but not least, Albedo.”

“You are he who holds the highest position among the Supreme Beings and our exalted master, as well as the man I love.”

“I see. I think I have a sufficient understanding of everyone’s thoughts now. I’m entrusting a part of the work my friends used to do to you. Strive to be ever loyal!” Momonga teleported away as the guardians humbly bowed before him again.

The scenery changed at once from the arena to Lemegeton and its golems. Once he’d looked around to make sure no one was there, he heaved a sigh. “I’m exhausted…” He wasn’t experiencing any physical fatigue, but he could feel the mental weariness weighing down his shoulders.

“Why do they all think so highly of me?” They must have me mistaken for someone else. As he was listening to them talk he’d wanted to laugh and point out their error. “Ah-ha-ha-ha,” he chuckled dryly and then shook his head—the looks on their faces and the mood in the room had told him they weren’t joking.

In other words, they’d been completely serious.

If he didn’t live up to their appraisal, they might be disappointed. The more he thought about it, the weaker he felt. And there was one other problem. Remembering it made him wince so hard it seemed like it would show on his skull. “What should I do about Albedo? I can’t face Tabula like this…”

Intermission

The pressure all but forcing their foreheads into the dirt vanished.

They were all aware their creator and master, worthy of their worship, had departed, yet no one stood up. Some time passed before someone let out a sigh of relief. The tense mood relaxed.

The first one to stand was Albedo. The places where her knees had pressed her white dress into the ground had gotten slightly dirty, but she didn’t seem to care one bit. She fluttered her wings to shake the dust off her feathers. As if given momentum by Albedo’s example, the others stood. Then scattered thoughts began to be voiced.

“T-that was really scary, huh, sis?”

“Seriously. I thought I was going to be crushed.”

“I’d expect nothing less from Lord Momonga, but to think that his power would affect even us guardians…”

“I KNEW THAT AS ONE OF THE SUPREME BEINGS HE WAS STRONGER THAN US, BUT I DIDN’T REALIZE BY HOW MUCH.”

They all shared their impressions of Momonga. The pressure that had shoved them all toward the ground was the aura Momonga had been emitting.

Aura of Despair. It caused the fear status effect along with ability penalties. Normally it shouldn’t have worked on NPCs the same level as him, but the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown had boosted its effects.

“Lord Momonga has shown us his caliber as a ruler.”

“Right? He had that authority all along, but he didn’t exercise it until we gave our titles. The moment we presented ourselves as guardians, he unleashed some of his great power.”

“YOU MEAN HE SHOWED US HIS RULER SIDE IN RESPONSE TO OUR OATH OF LOYALTY?”

“That must be it.”

“Yeah, he wasn’t giving off an aura at all when he was with us. He was super nice. He even gave us something to drink when we were thirsty!”

The other guardians bristled. They were envious to the point where it showed. Albedo’s reaction was especially big. Her hands shook, and it seemed like her fingernails were about to rip through her gloves.

Mare’s shoulders jerked and he spoke up in a loudish voice. “S-so that was Lord Momonga being all serious as the ruler of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, huh? Amazing!”

The mood changed instantaneously.

“You’re exactly right. He responded to our feelings by behaving in the manner of an absolute ruler—I’d expect nothing less of our Creator, the pinnacle of the Forty-One Supreme Beings and our merciful master who remained with us to the end.”

Everyone seemed enchanted, listening to Albedo’s words, but only Mare’s expression contained relief.

The Forty-One Supreme Beings were their Creators. Naturally, everyone was enveloped in incomparable happiness at having witnessed the true nature of one who deserved absolute devotion.

The greatest joy of not just the guardians, but anyone created by the Forty-One Supreme Beings, was to be of use. After that came being paid attention. This was only logical, of course. For someone created to be useful to the Forty-One Supreme Beings, what greater joy could there possibly be?

Sebas spoke to disperse the lax atmosphere. “Well, I’m going to head back. I don’t know where Lord Momonga went, but I should probably being serving at his side.”

Albedo looked awkward for a moment, but recovered. “Got it, Sebas. Attend him respectfully, and if anything comes up, let me know immediately. If he calls for me, I’ll go running at once, no matter what I have to cast aside.”

Demiurge, listening to this, had a faint look on his face that showed what a piece of work he felt she was.

“Oh, but if he calls me to his bedchamber, tell him I’ll need a little time. I should bathe first. Of course, if he says to come as I am, I don’t mind at all.

I’m keeping myself as clean as possible and paying meticulous attention to what I wear so he can summon me at any time. In other words, though it’s only natural, Lord Momonga’s wishes take priority—”

“I understand, Albedo. If I waste too much time here, I won’t have as much to serve Lord Momonga. That would be terribly rude to him, so apologies, but I take my leave. Excuse me, everyone.” After saying his parting words to all the dumbfounded guardians, he jogged off.

Demiurge spoke as if to dismiss Albedo’s look that said she hadn’t finished. “Well, it sure is quiet. What’s wrong, Shalltear?” Everyone turned to look at her. She was still kneeling.

“WHAT IS IT, SHALLTEAR?”

She lifted her head only after being addressed a second time. Her unfocused eyes glistened.

“IS SOMETHING WRONG?”

“Th-that awesome presence was so thrilling that my underwear are in quite a state.”

Silence.

No one knew what to say, so they just looked at one another. Shalltear had the most twisted fetishes of all the guardians, and all they could do was facepalm when they remembered her necrophilia. Mare was the only one who didn’t get it and stood there looking perplexed. But there was one present who wouldn’t let that be the end of it—Albedo.

Something like jealousy caused her mouth to open. “You bitch!”

The insult caused Shalltear’s lips to curl into an alluring smile.

“Huh? Lord Momonga is one of the Forty-One Supreme Beings, as well as extremely beautiful. It’s a reward to be hit with such a wave of power. You’re crazy if you didn’t get wet! Maybe you weren’t made pure at all—maybe you’re just frigid! Hm? You big-mouthed gorilla!”

“You lamprey!”

They glared at each other. The other guardians didn’t think it would devolve into a death match, but they still looked on with anxiety.

“I was created the way I am by the Supreme Beings, and I have no complaints. Do you?”

“You know, I’m pretty sure the same goes for me!”

Shalltear slowly stood up, closing the distance between them slightly. Their eyes remained locked. They moved closer and closer together until finally they were bumping up against each other.

“You must think you’ve won because you’re convinced you get to be close to Lord Momonga just because you’re captain of the floor guardians, but isn’t that a bit far-fetched?”

“Ha! Well, I do intend to achieve absolute victory while you’re busy guarding the most remote areas of the Tomb.”

“Pray tell what you mean by ‘absolute victory,’ Captain.”

“A bitch like you ought to understand! Yes, I mean that.”

During the exchange their gazes didn’t budge. They continued staring expressionlessly deep into each other’s eyes.

With a ruffling noise, Albedo’s wings stretched out imposingly. In response, a black haze began to come off Shalltear.

“Uh, Aura, I’ll leave the girls up to the girls. If something happens, I’ll jump in to stop them, so just let me know.”

“Wha—? Demiurge! You’re gonna shove this off on me?”

Demiurge backed away from the standoff, waving his hands in surrender. Cocytus and Mare followed. They didn’t want to get involved.

“GOOD GRIEF. IS THIS REALLY WORTH FIGHTING OVER?”

“Personally, I’m quite curious what the outcome will be.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, DEMIURGE?”

“Could be in terms of beefing up our war potential or the future of the Great Tomb of Nazarick.”

“What does that mean, Demiurge?”

“Mm…” Demiurge wondered how to answer Mare’s question. For a moment the sadistic desire to spoil that innocent mind by filling it with adult knowledge reared its head, but he dismissed it without hesitation.

Just like a demon should be, Demiurge was cruel and cold-blooded, but that was to outsiders of Nazarick. He saw others created by the Forty-One Supreme Beings as precious comrades in his loyalty.

“A great ruler should have a successor, right? Lord Momonga stayed with us until the end, but he could still lose interest in us and go where the others went. It’d be nice if he’d leave us someone for us to give our loyalty to if he leaves…”

“Uh, so you mean you wonder who will be the heir’s mo—”

“THAT SEEMS A BIT DISRESPECTFUL. IT IS OUR DUTY AS GUARDIANS AND CREATIONS TO AVOID THAT FATE BY REMAINING LOYAL TO LORD MOMONGA AND WORKING HARD SO HE STAYS,” Cocytus interrupted.

Demiurge turned to face him. “Of course, I understand that, Cocytus, but wouldn’t you like to be loyal to Lord Momonga’s son as well?”

“AH. THAT DOES SOUND PRETTY GOOD…” Cocytus imagined giving Momonga’s child piggyback rides. But he didn’t stop there. He imagined giving him fencing lessons, drawing a sword to protect him from the oncoming enemy, and taking orders from him once he’d grown up. “OH, HOW WONDERFUL… I CAN SEE IT NOW, JUST WONDERFUL… HE CAN CALL ME UNCLE.”

Demiurge averted his eyes from Cocytus and his uncle fantasies, wincing a bit. “I’m also very interested to see to what extent children could be of use in a plan to strengthen the Great Tomb of Narazick. I wonder. Mare, want to try making some babies?”

“Huh? What?!”

“That said, I suppose there’s no one for you to do it with… If there are any humans, dark elves, elves, or closely related species out there, I’ll capture one for you, so how about it?”

“Huh? What?!” Mare thought for a moment and then nodded. “If it would be useful to Lord Momonga, then…sure. But how do you make a baby?”

“Right, I’ll tell you when the time comes. But hm, if we go off performing breeding experiments on our own, Lord Momonga might scold us. Nazarick’s upkeep costs must be pretty precariously balanced.”

“Y-yeah. Once I heard that a single Supreme Being was spawning minions here on a very strict budget. If we make the population jump weirdly, we’re sure to get scolded. I-I would hate for Lord Momonga…to scold me…”

“Well, same here. No interest in getting scolded by a Supreme Being… If we could build a ranch somewhere outside of Nazarick, that might work, though…” Leaving off there for that idea, Demiurge tossed a question at Mare about something that no one had mentioned yet. “By the way, Mare, why are you dressed like a girl?”

He tugged at the edges of his skirt as if to hide his legs even a little more. “Th-this is what BubblingTeapot chose. She said I was a boy, so I don’t think there’s any mistake about my gender…”

“Hm, she must have put some thought into it. Then, that must be the proper attire for you, but…I wonder if all little boys should be dressed the same way?”

“I-I’m not sure about that.”

Although they had mostly disappeared, once one of the Forty-One Supreme Beings’ sacred names came into things, all one could do was accept the judgment. That meant that the way Mare was dressed was the most correct way within the Great Tomb of Nazarick. If anyone was going to tell him to stop dressing that way, it would have to be another Supreme Being.

“I guess we need to consult Lord Momonga. It may very well be the case that all boys should dress that way… Cocytus, are you quite ready to come back to us?”

At the sound of his colleague’s voice, Cocytus emitted a sigh of contentment from the bottom of his heart and then shook his head several times. “WHAT A LOVELY NOTION. IT CERTAINLY IS SOMETHING TO HOPE FOR.”

“Oh yeah? Good for you… Albedo, Shalltear, are you still fighting?”

The pair still staring each other down looked up when he called to them. But the one who answered Demiurge’s question was standing off to the side looking exhausted—Aura.

“The fight…is over. Now they’re just—”

“The issue is simply who will be his first wife.”

“We concluded that it would be bizarre for the absolute ruler of the Great Tomb of Nazarick to have only one queen. But now we have to decide who his primary will—”

“That’s very interesting, but tell me more later. More importantly, Albedo, could you give us some orders maybe? We’ve got a lot of things that need to get moving.”

“Yes. Yes, you’re right. I need to give orders. Shalltear, let’s discuss this further at a future date. I’m sure it will take more time than we have now, anyway.”

“I have no objections, Albedo. There’s nothing that will take us so long to discuss as this.”

“Okay. Very well, I’ll come up with our plan going forward.” Albedo had put on her captain of the floor guardians face, and all the guardians responded by bowing their heads in respect.

They bowed, but they didn’t kneel. She was worthy of respect as their captain, but she was not absolute. There wasn’t that much of a gap in status between those created by the Forty-One Supreme Beings. That said, it was the Forty-One Supreme Beings who had bestowed upon her the rank of captain, so she was given the respect appropriate for her position—and no more. Their behavior was a manifestation of that belief. And it didn’t bother Albedo, because she knew it was a most correct way to think.

“First…”