Chapter 4

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.

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