Copyright

OVERLORD
VOLUME 15
KUGANE MARUYAMA

Translation by Andrew Cunningham

Cover art by so-bin

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the
product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

OVERLORD Vol.15 HALF ELF NO SHINJIN JO

©Kugane Maruyama 2022
First published in Japan in 2022 by KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo.
English translation rights arranged with KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo,
through Tuttle-Mori Agency, Inc., Tokyo.

English translation © 2023 by Yen Press, LLC

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Maruyama, Kugane, author. | So-bin, illustrator. | Balistrieri, Emily,
translator. | Cunningham, Andrew, translator.
Title: Overlord / Kugane Maruyama ; illustration by So-bin ; translation by Emily
Balistrieri ; translation by Andrew Cunningham.
Other titles: Ōbārōdo. English
Description: First Yen On edition. | New York, NY : Yen On, 2016–
Identifiers: LCCN 2016000142 | ISBN 9780316272247 (v. 1 : hardback) | ISBN
9780316363914 (v. 2 : hardback) | ISBN 9780316363938 (v. 3 : hardback) |
ISBN 9780316397599 (v. 4 : hardback) | ISBN 9780316397612 (v. 5 :
hardback) | ISBN 9780316398794 (v. 6 : hardback) | ISBN 9780316398817
(v. 7 : hardback) | ISBN 9780316398848 (v. 8 : hardback) | ISBN
9780316398862 (v. 9 : hardback) | ISBN 9780316444989 (v. 10 : hardback) |
ISBN 9780316445016 (v. 11 : hardback) | ISBN 9780316445016 (v. 12 :
hardback) | ISBN 9781975311537 (v. 13 : hardback) | ISBN 9781975323806
(v. 14 : hardback) | ISBN 9781975360566 (v. 15 : hardback) | ISBN
9781975360566 (hardcover)
Subjects: LCSH: Alternate reality games—Fiction. | Internet games—Fiction. |
Science fiction. | BISAC: FICTION / Science Fiction / Adventure.
Classification: LCC PL873.A37 O2313 2016 | DDC 895.63/6—dc23
LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2016000142

ISBNs: 978-1-9753-6056-6 (hardcover)

978-1-975-36057-3 (ebook)

E3-20230507-JV-PC-COR
Contents

Cover
Insert
Title Page
Copyright

Prologue
Chapter 1 Arranging a Paid Vacation
Chapter 2 Sightseeing, Nazarick-Style
Chapter 3 Aura’s Toughest Task
Character Profiles

Yen Newsletter
Prologue

The head of the Theocracy—the high priest superior.

The six high priests, each in charge of their respective
denomination.
The heads of the judicial, legislative, and executive branches.
The chief of the magic research facility.
The highest-ranked military officer—the generalissimo.
Together, these twelve formed the supreme executive agency.
All the highest authorities in the land had gathered to chart the
course their country would follow.
The room was neither gaudy nor especially large. The faces at
the table were somber and reserved.
This assembly was not prone to mirth or good cheer even at the
best of times. Yet, they had long served the Theocracy together and
knew one another well enough to allow the occasional dry witticism.
However, the mood was rarely this somber. Today, no one present
seemed inclined to ease the tension.
“The Nation of Darkness has begun their invasion of the Re-
Estize Kingdom. More accurately, they did so long ago. Truly
terrifying. The people of the kingdom themselves went a full month
without even noticing. Our eyes and ears, the wind and the water—
were crushed completely. Were it not for Star Reader–Second Sight,
it would have taken us far longer to catch on. The kingdom’s fate is
already sealed. There is little time left. We must redouble our efforts
to recruit their adventurers.”
The high priest superior’s eyes turned to Raymond Zurg
Laurencin, the high priest of earth.
 “We’re doing what we can,” he said.
“It would be a shame if the Nation got their hands on the
kingdom’s magic items,” the research chief said. “Is there nothing we
can do? Especially their greatest treasures. The Amulet of
Immortality. The Guardian Armor. The Gauntlets of Vitality. And—”
He paused dramatically, counting them off on his fingers. They
needed to understand the last was the most vital of all. “—Razor
Edge.”
“Impossible. We don’t have the resources. Too few hands to play,
and we’ve got to get our people out, besides.”
“The Nation is invading,” the generalissimo declared. “After the
old chief warrior fell, did his equipment not pass to his probable
successor, this Ung…la…fellow?”
“Brain Unglaus,” the chief replied. “That’s most likely what
happened and exactly why we should snatch him up as well. What
fool would ride a horse off the edge of a cliff? He may not be pleased
at first, but he’ll be grateful in the end.”
“Our investigations suggest he is not that sort of man.”
This came from one of two female members of the assembly, the
high priest of fire, Bérénice Nagua Santini.
“You have a high opinion of him?” asked the other, the minister of
justice.
“We do. The high priests consider him a man of character—and
thus deemed him unlikely to accept our offer. Our orders are to avoid
making contact at all.”
“Just like his predecessor, then. Unable to see the big picture,
slaves to illogical emotion. I will never understand their ilk,” the
minister of legislation said with a sigh. This earned him several
disapproving looks, and he hastily added, “I beg your pardon. That
was out of line. Just…from my perspective, throwing your life away
does nothing to safeguard the future of mankind. And no matter what
anyone says, I will not yield on that.”
“Nor will we argue it,” replied a gentle voice. The source of that
disapproval was Dominic Ire Partouche, the high priest of wind. “I
only ask that you remember we all have things we will not yield on.
This is his.”
 “Are you of the same opinion, Master Guelfi?” the research chief
asked, unsatisfied.
A man who resembled an old, withered tree nodded. This was
Zinedine Delan Guelfi, the high priest of water.
“Then I have nothing further to say on the matter.”
“I am pleased by the talent we have assembled, but tell me, how
fare our new recruits?”
Several adventurer teams had already joined the Theocracy.
Mostly mythril or above, but some lesser teams had also been
invited because the Springwater Scripture’s intel suggested they had
bright futures ahead of them.
“Pretty terri—not great.” Yvon Jasna Delacroix, the high priest of
light, was in charge of getting them settled. “All of them came of their
own volition and many feel like they’ve abandoned their people. It’s
left one hell of a—I mean, it has become quite a thorn in their
hearts.”
Someone suggested Yvon could speak freely, and he snapped, “I
know how to watch my damn words!” Then hastily corrected himself.
“I mean, of course I know when to mind my tongue.”
When it was just the high priests, his language came and went,
but they knew one another better than the members of the greater
assembly.
“In any case, we thought it best to give them an outlet.”
“Specifically?” the minister of justice asked.
“If these thorns are born of a failure to save their people, then
saving others will help them heal,” Raymond said. “The plan is to
ship them to the Dragon Kingdom and have them fight the beastmen
there.”
Several people were nodding.
Their intel said the Dragon Kingdom had approached the Nation
of Darkness and purchased undead from them. Extremely powerful
undead.
Left neglected, the Theocracy’s influence would steadily wane
while the Nation’s rose. Dispatching the adventurers would help
avoid that. But a concern was voiced, too.
“If we send former Kingdom adventurers where we can’t watch
over them, they might let it slip that we were moving in the shadows
during the war between the Nation and the Kingdom. Wouldn’t it be
wiser to keep them within our borders?”
“I wouldn’t worry about that. They know full well what’s going on,
which is precisely why they feel ashamed about abandoning their
home in its time of need. They’d never do anything that would benefit
a nation so cruel. Unless, of course, someone uses a mind-control
spell to force the information out of them.”
“I’m less worried about that than the Nation finding out we have
casters capable of using teleportation spells.”
“…That’s a good point.”
“We told them we were using magic items, but there’s always a
chance they noticed we weren’t. Even if we order their lips sealed,
there’s no telling how word might get out. Perhaps it’s best to avoid
revealing one of our key cards to the Nation of Darkness.”
Coughing, Zinedine Delan Guelfi spluttered, “Mm-hmm… Sorry, I
get your point, but I also think that it could have a deterring effect. If
they get a hint of what we’re capable of, they’ll likely exercise caution
and avoid taking any rash action.”
“I agree with the master. The Triad Caster demonstrates just how
well that works. No reason for us to sweat about every potential
leak.”
“Oh? How many truly know anything about him? For all the
stories about the Empire’s great caster, few—if any—contained
specifics about what he could really do.”
“And those who do know seem unlikely to be that fussed about
mere Teleportation.”
Opinions flew, but it soon became clear no consensus was
possible, so the assembly went with the majority vote. The final
verdict approved sending adventurers to aid the Dragon Kingdom.
The Theocracy viewed the newly scouted adventurers the way
they would any mercenary—they expected little in the way of loyalty.
The assembly here didn’t particularly care if these adventurers chose
to settle permanently in the Dragon Kingdom. They had escorted
them out of the Re-Estize Kingdom to minimize the untimely loss of
powerful members of the human race—not to bolster the
Theocracy’s own forces.
“If we could just find a means of producing fifth-tier scrolls, we
could use Teleportation all the more often.”
“Centuries of work without success. That research will demand far
more time.”
One of the Theocracy’s most closely guarded techniques was the
production of fourth-tier scrolls. No neighboring countries had this
capability. They had several such secrets, all developed over untold
hundreds of years to safeguard humanity, to allow them to overcome
more naturally gifted species.
For instance, they had successfully created a potion they called
Gods’ Blood. Unfortunately, it was the opposite of cost-effective, so
research and development continued to this day.
“Tell me, why has the Nation of Darkness chosen genocide?
Supplies bound for the Sacred Kingdom were stolen, true, but this is
hardly a proportional response. What does our military make of it?”
“First, it could be a show of force,” the generalissimo said, holding
up a finger.
This earned several nods.
“Second, well…they are undead.”
“Driven by their hatred of the living and what have you? I don’t
buy it. Even if they were waiting for an excuse to go to war, it doesn’t
line up with the King of Darkness’s past behavior.”
“Yes, the military leadership believes that possibility is not high,”
the generalissimo said studiously.
This earned him a chorus of boos. “Then quit beating around the
bush!” “You’re just copying Raymond’s stunt!” “This is hardly the time
or the place!”
“Ahem. The third theory is the one we deem most likely.” He held
up a third finger. “They’re attempting to create an undead spawning
ground, like the Katze Plain.”
“Oh…”
Several voices groaned.
The Theocracy had many faith-based casters, and the country’s
highest authorities knew the implications of his words all too well.
A vast, corrupted land. It seemed entirely plausible that a new
source of undead was a worthwhile goal. If they were talking about
anyone else, that would be practically impossible, but they were
dealing with an undead king—the ruler of the Nation of Darkness
could take full advantage.
Rumor had it he’d already placed the Katze Plain firmly under his
control. Perhaps that had proven a wise decision and informed this
latest move.
“In that case…we can surmise what their next step will be.”
“Meaning?”
“This unclean land lies between them and the Council State. With
a shield raised in that direction—”
“Their blades turn to us.”
A grim silence settled over the room. Each quietly compared the
two countries in terms of their own field. And of course, their
respective militaries.
Every face looked distraught. None could maintain their
composure.
Given the information that had come to light at the previous
meeting, there was only one conclusion. Everyone knew that the
spell the King of Darkness had used on the Katze Plain was too
powerful. Too evil.
That would be impossible to withstand, not with all the
Theocracy’s secrets, not even with the demigods in play. And they
had not even begun to plumb the depths of what the Nation could
really do. The further they dug, the deeper that abyss might run.
“No matter how many troops we have, it won’t be enough. An
alliance with the Council State is our only real option.”
“They might send reinforcements when the time comes.”
A sneer appeared on every lip.
Even if they came, those reinforcements would never be enough
to save them.
They knew better.
Principles, positions, purposes—none of those things aligned.
Their two countries could never truly work together. Perhaps a
signed alliance would get them some paltry aid, but it would almost
certainly not move the Platinum Dragonlord himself.
 Whichever of them collapsed first, the survivor would have to bear
the brunt of the Nation’s might alone. To avoid that fate, the smart
play would be to fully commit to a united front. But what if—
hypothetically speaking, of course—their coalition did manage to
invade the Nation and secure a lasting victory? The moment that
happened, the Council State and Theocracy would be potential
enemies once more.
Considering the post-war situation, you’d have to maneuver your
ally into committing as many troops as possible to the Nation
assault. And the increased flow of people between the two countries
due to the alliance would make their respective espionage efforts all
the more intensive.
An alliance with the Council State simply could not be trusted.
It was easier to believe the Theocracy could go it alone.
Even if tensions with the Nation of Darkness exploded into armed
conflict, it was best to avoid an all-out war. The risk of mutual
annihilation left the Council State free to claim any land that became
vacated.
A three-way balance was ideal, but that required they be evenly
matched in the first place.
“Bending the knee to the Nation of Darkness is an option. Bide
time for decades, centuries, then destroy them from within. By then,
we’d know everything about their inner workings.”
“The Empire became a vassal state. They might be willing to
consider the offer. Based on how they treated the Empire, it might
not be all that tragic.”
“But would our people accept it?”
“Unlikely. No average citizen would want that. We might lose
control entirely.”
“Fools are easily suppressed.”
“Let’s not get extreme! That’s a last resort. Remember, the
masses are by and large in the dark about all this.”
“Then should we share what we know? History shows too much
information often leads to uprisings. That’s precisely why we have
restrictions in place!”
“Don’t squabble. The Nation might topple the capital, but their
focus won’t be pacifying the populace or governing occupied
territory. We’ll have time to—”
“We can’t say that for sure. They’ve completely obliterated any
number of cities and towns. They might do the same to our capital.”
A great many people lived in the city. Massacring every last one
was a tall order, but the Nation had done worse.
“The undead do loathe the living.”
“…We may have grown overconfident when E-Rantel was taken
without excessive bloodshed.”
“The Nation of Darkness has made the Empire a vassal state,
and they already influence the Sacred Kingdom as well as the
Dragon Kingdom. And now they’re annihilating Re-Estize. We have
to assume we’re next. Surrender or die. A trite cliché, but there’s no
escaping the reality of the situation. If we’re going to face them at all,
we have to solve our other problem.”
“Indeed. We have to end that rotten elf. There’s no telling how
relations with the Nation of Darkness will turn out, but only a fool
wages two wars at once.”
They had been devoting a great deal of resources to eradicating
the elves long before the Nation had appeared. And it was a big part
of why they’d been unable to address their newest problem.
“Given the Nation’s overwhelming might, finding ourselves in a
head-on fight with them would be a worst-case scenario, but it’s our
job to prepare for that and grab for the snake in the grass. That
means bringing the war with the elves to a quick conclusion.”
“I doubt the Nation will take a stab at us while they’re busy
mopping up the kingdom, but if we act in haste, they might feel
threatened and retaliate. We need a diversion. Consider summoning
some undead near the border, making it seem natural. That should
allow us to marshal our forces.”
“Yes…but we should also try to preserve as many humans as we
can.”
Several grave nods followed that admonishment.
“Evacuate a portion of the population. To our land of hope. Or the
remnants of despair.”
The Theocracy had nowhere to turn, no one who would take in
their people. But they could not leave them adrift.
There was just one place of refuge beyond their borders. A
hidden village of sorts. The place where, six hundred years before,
the helpless tribe known as humans had taken shelter, cowering.
This place was guarded by the Dustfallen, one of the six
scriptures.
“…If we’re evacuating the borderlands, we’ll need to start
prepping right away. Who’s going?”
“It can’t be random. We’ll all stay behind, of course. Each of you
pick a representative and have them choose the rest.”
“No, you should go, Laurencin.”
“Why?”
“In the event we are wiped out…you were once in the Black
Scripture. You can protect and educate those left behind.”
“My strength is not what it once was. Those at the top should
remain no matter what. If I do not, who would place their faith in
me?”
“Still…”
“No…”
“I believe…”
As the argument grew heated, the high priest superior spoke.
“This passion serves no one. It is a vital question, but we do still
have time.”
No one argued.
“Very good. Now, to the most pressing issue. The elves
themselves—they, we can spare. But that damnable elf king must be
cornered and—”
Like a man possessed, his face twisted with rage.
Raymond nodded.
“We’ll give No Death–No Life her shot.”
“Mm. Even if the Platinum Dragonlord learns she’s left our
borders, he won’t complain too much once he hears the reason. I’d
prefer to make the elf king suffer like no mortal ever has before he
dies—but her happiness takes precedence. See it done.”
“As you wish.”
Chapter 1 | Arranging a Paid Vacation
 1

Ainz read the last of the documents in the binder he was flipping
through, turned back to the top page, and stamped the corner with
his personal seal. After a moment’s hesitation, he followed that with
a stamp of approval. With that, the contents of the binder—a solution
to what Ainz considered to be a political concern of the highest order
—were now ready for Albedo to staff and put into action.
Lumièlle was waiting at his side, and he handed her the binder.
This completed his work for the day.
Ainz looked at the clock.
The hands showed half past ten.
Ainz began work each day at ten exactly. He had been working
for only thirty minutes, but this was typical these days. From the get-
go, his duties usually occupied him only until noon. Now they took
even less time.
When he’d been working in the trenches as Satoru Suzuki, he’d
never dreamed of starting work this late in the day—barring outright
tardiness. But that was Satoru’s idea of normal. Employees at the
megacorps might well find themselves starting far later in the day.
According to Ulbert, having regulated hours at all was a luxury.
People in this world—villagers like Enri and Nfirea—rose with the
sun and worked until it slipped back under the horizon.
The average city dweller was much the same but rose a little later
and stayed up awhile after dark. Having a source of light made all
the difference. But the nobility, with their many magic lamps, often
stayed up very late—and slept in to compensate.
 The ten o’clock start time was hardly the Nazarick standard.
Nazarick was the sweatshop to end all sweatshops.
Take the regular maids; they were split into morning and evening
shifts, working long hours as a matter of course. Cocytus’s minions
guarding the ninth floor were much the same. Their downtime was
poorly defined, as there weren’t any regular breaks at all. No snack
time, no cigarette breaks.
Yet, most of the staff had no complaints about this treatment.
Hoping to cultivate a positive work environment, Ainz had
discussed the matter with the regular maids.
The result had convinced him they were all off their rockers. Or
perhaps, put more diplomatically, they were a very dedicated bunch.
When they mentioned with absolute seriousness that there were
items preventing fatigue that would let them work indefinitely, Ainz
had felt a chill run down his spine. When asked if they had any
complaints, the few who did…asked to be allowed to work more.
Since then, he’d enacted some reforms.
Maybe he was simply forcing his values on everyone, but he felt
duty-bound to take employee welfare seriously. And his reforms
started with the regular maids.
They were extremely low-level to begin with. It helped that they all
looked like beautiful young women. He didn’t wish to show favoritism
but couldn’t help being softer on them than, say, Cocytus.
If Ainz gave an order, almost everyone in Nazarick would obey it.
But careless commands could dampen their motivation.
So he had to sell them on it.
This was his pitch:
Someday, the regular maids might find themselves in charge of
human workers. And basing their orders on their own routines could
result in their overworking those humans, which was bad.
They had reluctantly agreed to reduce their working hours and
increase their free time.
Before, they had been given a single day off after forty-one days
of labor. He’d doubled that!
They now had two days off.
Ainz felt like this was not a significant change, but changing too
much too quickly would be pushing his luck. He’d taken the hint and
been forced to compromise here.
His goal was a full-fledged vacation system—paid time off,
summer breaks, holidays—the works. He was a long way from
making it happen.
Why was he pushing to implement these reforms despite NPC
opposition? Satoru Suzuki had never once received such benefits,
and perhaps he’d always had a yearning for them.
Currently, he was trying a different tactic.
Ainz himself was not working much. He had hoped that seeing
Nazarick’s head honcho slacking off would cause a sea change in
the mindset of those beneath him—convince them they were allowed
to work less.
Naturally, half his motivation stemmed from his conviction that the
more active a role a man of his mediocre talents played, the worse
things would go for Nazarick.
But this tactic seemed doomed to failure.
Nazarick’s denizens had changed their mindset. They believed it
was only natural for Ainz to do nothing, and they should work extra
hard instead.
Ainz had never done much beyond rubber-stamping things, and
now he had even less to stamp. That was probably a net win. He
was not a gifted man, and piling work on his plate would do Nazarick
no good at all. But he felt bad for whoever was picking up his slack.
Sigh…
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see two maids watching him
intently. Their gazes were a force to be reckoned with. One was on
Ainz duty, while the other was assigned to this room. If he made the
mistake of meeting their eyes, they would immediately ask what he
wished done, so he had learned to avoid that.
They don’t need to be that serious. I’d much rather they relax.
They’re so tense, it’s turning my stomach.
When was the last time he’d seen a maid smile? Ainz wondered.
With another internal sigh, he spoke to the maid at his side.
“Lumièlle.”
“Yes, Lord Ainz?”
 “Just to be sure, that is the end of my work today?”
“Yes, Lord Ainz. That will be all.”
She was on Ainz duty for the day, and in Albedo’s absence, the
regular maids now performed secretarial duties for him.
There were no audiences or negotiations on today’s docket.
But there was always the possibility something might crop up. He
could never really relax. When Entoma was forced to Message him
about an unexpected turn, it was always a headache and left him
nursing an upset stomach.
“Ah…”
Ainz’s gaze shifted to the other desk in the room.
Albedo had been very insistent that it had to be in here, but she
was currently away.
Most of the time, she worked with him, but only a few days had
passed since they had toppled the Re-Estize Kingdom capital, and
she had her hands full, running all over Nazarick or overseeing
operations out in the field. He hadn’t seen much of her.
He’d asked the maids how she was faring and heard that she was
pretty strung out. Because she had too much work or because she
hadn’t seen him?
If it’s the latter, I’ll have to make time for her.
If that was all it took to improve her mood, he was happy to
oblige.
“…………”
No one here spoke unless he did, so the room was extremely
quiet.
Deep down, Ainz would prefer to work somewhere filled with idle
chatter, but the last few years had made it clear he could never
expect that from them.
It was very isolating.
Am I going to spend the rest of my life being waited upon? I
suppose that comes with the territory. But I will have to make a few
improvements.
Ordinarily, Ainz had plenty with which to fill his free time.
Horse-riding practice.
Pretending to read academic books while actually reading
business manuals. Or books on politics. He didn’t really retain much,
likely because he was mostly skimming them. Hopefully not because
his skull was literally hollow.
Performing magic experiments.
Lately, he’d added doing weapons practice with Cocytus or
training with Pandora’s Actor to the menu.
“Okay…,” he said, as if talking to himself. This was intentional.
He’d waited long enough.
He had a plan to help Aura and Mare make friends. This would
require some prep work.
What kind of friends would they make? Other dark elves seemed
the most likely; barring that, some other variety of elf. Even with the
changes he was hoping to bring to the world, having their first friends
be lizardmen or goblins seemed like a big ask.
Best to start closer to home.
His gaze turned to Lumièlle.
“I’m headed to the sixth floor. Accompany me.”
“As you wish, sir.”
She would come with him whether he said to or not, but it seemed
better to be specific.
Ainz used the power of his ring to transport them both to the sixth
floor.
One word from him and Lumièlle would bring anyone he wished
to see to his office, and as Nazarick’s supreme commander, perhaps
summoning those he wished to meet was the proper way to do
things. He had chosen not to do so in the hopes of handling things
peacefully. If there was a possibility of tension, it was best he go in
person and demonstrate sincerity.
A summons was inherently discourteous. A personal visit
projected camaraderie and showed how much he valued them. And
having the boss on your home turf turned up the heat, which made it
a little easier to conduct his business.
He was here to meet three elves. They’d been taken prisoner
when the adventurers who’d been lured into Nazarick itself had been
wiped out.
Perhaps I should have pried more information out of them when
they were first placed here, but…that didn’t seem very possible back
then.
A few years had passed. At the time, he’d heard the bare
minimum—no personal information about the elves themselves or
their homes. Ainz had been attempting to act the part of a friendly
undead who’d freed the elves from the horrors of slavery. Had he
attempted to wring details about elves as a species and where they’d
come from, they would never have believed he was saving them out
of goodwill.
But would they react the same way now? Probably not.
The Great Tomb of Nazarick was no longer a monolith.
Nazarick—and the Ainz Ooal Gown Nation of Darkness—had
brought in all manner of other species, so it made perfect sense that
they’d been looking to open diplomatic channels with the elves’
homeland and looking for information on the subject.
Now, I can make all sorts of excuses. The twins aren’t being
rough with them or anything…so hopefully they’ll open up to me.
Well…let’s not expect the world. If I’d thought of this back in the day,
perhaps I could have given better instructions…
He shook off the thought. He didn’t want Aura and Mare
pretending to be nice to these elves just because he’d ordered it.
Yet, he would never hesitate to order Demiurge or Albedo to do the
same thing…
Like when he’d compared the maids to Cocytus, his judgment
was swayed by appearances. He knew that was wrong but could not
free his mind from those biases. At his core, he was just an ordinary
man, after all.
With Lumièlle on his heel, Ainz headed down the darkened
passage. A heavy portcullis stood at the end. Shafts of sunlight
streamed through the bars.
Beyond lay the sixth floor’s arena.
He could use a ring to move himself near the twins’ domicile but
had avoided doing so because—
The portcullis shot upward like it was fully automated, giving him
déjà vu. He’d come here on his first day in this world and been
greeted by this same tiny figure.
 “Lord Ainz, an honor to have you!” a girl’s bright, cheery voice
said.
“Mm. Aura, I had some business here—and could use your help.”
It seemed Aura was on guard duty today. A stroke of luck.
As the Nation of Darkness expanded, each floor guardian had a
lot on their plate. They were spending more time outside of Nazarick.
But Albedo, Demiurge, Mare, Aura, Cocytus, and Shalltear were
careful to ensure that two or three of them were always within the
tomb itself.
Albedo, Cocytus, and Shalltear spent the most time here, but
Cocytus had the lizardman village to check on, and Shalltear was in
charge of the dragon messengers.
And when they were away, someone else would stay.
Ainz had never demanded they observe this informal policy.
Once, he had placed Cocytus in charge of Nazarick security, with
Shalltear serving as his backup. But the scale of their holdings had
changed a lot since then. Personally, he felt they needed only one
floor guardian staying behind and was totally fine with having
everyone else out and about.
But he was reluctant to actually voice that thought.
The guardians were acting of their own volition, and he was afraid
that if he said anything, they’d take it as gospel and overrule their
own opinions. He wanted to respect their autonomy.
Albedo and Demiurge were far smarter than Ainz would ever be,
and they’d signed off on it, so his opinions were moot. Conclusions
reached by his guardians would likely be far superior to whatever his
inferior mind spat out.
“At your service, Lord Ainz! What brings you here today?”
“Mm.”
She was all smiles, but his grunt was rather somber. There was
no real meaning behind that gesture of gravitas. He could simply
have done his usual authoritative grunt. But he had qualms about the
potential for success in his endeavor, and those worries weighed
upon him heavily.
The effect was immediate. Aura’s smile vanished.
Uh-oh. She had definitely read too much into that.
 “F—” He almost swore. But that would just make her wonder why
he was upset, and if she pried into it, his entire charade would
crumble. He knew he would bumble it. “First, I’d like to meet those
elves.”
“…To clarify, by elves you mean the captive ones?”
Ugh, sorry, my scramble to clean up my mess left you guessing.
Please stop looking so concerned. Go back to the smile!
“…Exactly. I’d like to check on their current situation and ask them
a few things before deciding on my next course of action.”
“Certainly! I’ll bring them right here.”
He’d seen that coming. Every Nazarick denizen would react
exactly like Aura just had. Ainz had the next part of the rationale
ready…or perhaps it was more of a rationalization.
“Th-that won’t be necessary. I have two goals here.”
“…Two? Your great mind considers so many possibilities, even
when you’re just meeting with captives!”
Her eyes gleamed, impressed. He had just come prepared with
certain narrative devices for the twins’ benefit, but unable to admit
that openly, he settled for not quite meeting her eye.
“First, if I go myself, that will pressure them to a certain degree.
The second is not directly related to the elves themselves, but since
we placed the Tove Woodlands under our control, quite a few
outsiders have begun living on this floor. I was curious how they
were getting on and figured I should have a look myself. What do
you say, Aura? Do you mind showing me to the area that has
undergone the most dramatic change?”
Ainz was basically letting each guardian handle their floor without
much direct input from him. That meant he had yet to see any of
these changes for himself. That was a matter of trust. If his
subordinates were doing their jobs well, then his suggestions would
simply be a distraction.
But he was here anyway, so he’d thought it would be fun to have
a look. He wasn’t sure how Aura interpreted this—but it sure altered
her demeanor. She was positively crackling.
“Absolutely. When you said first, I knew there must be more!”
Aura said, nodding emphatically. “And, Lord Ainz, I would never mind
taking your requests. You are the supreme ruler of Nazarick, and no
matter where you go, everyone you’ll find is working for your
pleasure!”
“Oh… Mm, well, I’m glad to hear it!”
“I’m grateful for your kind words. Hmm, I’d probably say the flower
field has changed the most, so I’ll take you there!”
“The flower field…” Ainz ransacked his memory. “We moved
some plant-type monsters there, yes?”
“That’s correct. We have a fenced-off area where we transplanted
non-sentient plant monsters and an area where the sentient ones
dwell. Some of those have occupied that village we made a while
back and are living a lot like humans do. Would you like to see that?”
The village had been built with an eye for having humans live
within the walls of Nazarick. If they ever ran across another player,
he could insist they had plans afoot for peaceful coexistence even
within the tomb. It was basically just a collection of small houses with
fields around them—hardly large enough to call a village. But the
name had stuck for lack of a better alternative.
“You remember the dryad Pinison?”
“…Yes, naturally.”
This was mostly a lie. He couldn’t recollect her face at all, more of
a general shape. But he remembered encountering someone like
that—or rather, he had clear memories of the battle that followed,
and his vague impression of the dryad was simply part of that
package. Ainz had never been good at remembering names and
faces. He’d been the type who scribbled notes on the back of
business cards, recording the impressions they’d made on him.
“She’s basically the village’s mayor.”
It sounded like plant monsters were pretty free-spirited, so
Pinison was mostly just calling herself mayor. But she had been the
first to reach Nazarick and had helped mediate disputes between
later arrivals, so she had a fairly good reputation. At the least, she
was functioning as the representative for all the plant monsters from
outside Nazarick.
Some of the other plants were stronger than Pinison, so she
didn’t always get her way, but the twins were backing her, so there
had yet to be any significant problems.
Upon arrival in Nazarick, the plant monsters had been welcomed
by Aura and Mare—or rather, been shown a demonstration of their
combat skills and how all the other monsters obeyed them. Keenly
aware that they stood no chance, most monsters were disinclined to
argue with the twins’ orders.
A lot of monsters had seen Mare give commands to a woodland
dragon (a cash store monster) and began wondering if he was
actually a god. This had only gotten worse when they saw him make
it rain and increase the soil’s fertility to a genuinely alarming degree.
“I don’t think every monster’s started worshipping him. Some of
them are perfectly aware it’s druid magic. I think a lot of them just
admire him.”
Aura stopped to think about that one.
Ainz felt like he understood. It was how he and his friends used to
see someone kitted out in amazing gear and started calling them a
god among players. Maybe mixed with a bit of idol fandom.
“I believe I understand. As long as they’re obeying your orders, I
see no problem. No matter the means or the motives involved. Mm,
yes. What I said.”
Ainz was already regretting this. That was not how he should
have described their work.
Instead of blithering a bunch of nonsense, he should have stuck
to simple praise. Well done! would have sufficed.
He glanced at Aura’s expression, and she appeared unperturbed,
but that could just be a poker face.
I don’t want to go around making demotivational speeches! All the
business books agree that’s counterproductive!
He would have to be more careful with his words. His manner of
speaking and tone of voice could also use a lot more work.
“Ahem. I’ll have to look at the village some other day. For now,
let’s stick with the flower field. My apologies, Aura.”
Aura hastily waved both hands.
“N-not at all! Like I said, all of Nazarick is at your disposal, Lord
Ainz. We’ll go wherever you like. It was presumptuous of me to
suggest anything at all!”
 “N-no…”
Why is she apologizing? Wait, she’s been acting out of character
since I arrived. Did my awkward fumble earlier provoke some odd
misunderstanding? Does she think I’m plotting something?
While his mind scrambled, Aura kept talking.
“If you want to go somewhere, Lord Ainz, then everywhere in
Nazarick—nay, the world—is open to you.”
Ainz was pretty sure the world had plenty of places that he would
be well advised to avoid. Any number of places where only women
were allowed, for example. But if he said that here, Aura would likely
insist she didn’t mind. That would be supremely awkward—for Ainz,
at least—so he opted to say nothing at all.
He glanced at Lumièlle and found her nodding in complete
agreement.
Pressing the point didn’t seem worth it.
Careful not to let his feelings show, he turned to Aura.
“Then lead the way,” he said.
“Yes, sir! Happy to oblige!” She thumped her chest. “How should
we travel? Shall I summon a ride?”
“Yes, that sounds good.”
“Coming right up!”
Aura turned her head, staring into the distance. Her brow
furrowed, focusing. This lasted only a few seconds.
“There are other creatures closer to us, but I decided to call Fen
and Quadracile instead. Will that work?”
“No need to ask my opinion on everything. If you deem it best, I
will not argue.”
“Thank you. It will be a brief wait.”
“Understood.”
Ainz let his eyes wander around the arena.
If you wanted to enjoy a stroll in Nazarick—or take a break from
what the ninth and tenth floors had to offer—the fifth and sixth floors
were just the ticket. If you were lucky, you might catch the glow of
the aurora on the fifth floor, but that was a rare sight indeed. The
odds of encountering it had been set incredibly low. In that sense,
you were more likely to have a good time wandering about here on
the sixth. As he was about to.
Ainz smiled, feeling the knot in his stomach ease.

With a quick by-your-leave, Aura stepped away from her master and
Lumièlle, taking out her necklace.
The twins’ necklaces were a legacy item that let them contact
each other. They weren’t particularly powerful, but they kept them
equipped at all times for the simple reason that the function would
not work until they’d been worn for two days straight. Normally, items
with downsides like that made up for it in strength, but these
necklaces were exceptions. And to make it work, the one activating
the ability—the one calling—had to clutch the necklace in their hand,
so it was hard to use during any serious combat.
There were no other use limits. They could call each other
whenever they needed.
That was the nature of the necklaces—opinions would be divided
on whether they were any good at all, and certainly on whether they
were worth using a precious item slot on.
“Mare, Lord Ainz has graced us with a visit.”
A moment later, Mare’s voice echoed in her head.
“Er, he has? Lord Ainz, in person? Here? What for?!”
“Isn’t it obvious? An inspection.”
“Augh!”
“I think he’s making sure the domain guardians and the two of us
are looking after this floor properly. This time he’s just going to look
over the new flower field, but best we double-check none of the
domain guardians are slacking off.”
“This floor does have the most outsiders on it. Is that why? Or is it
just our turn?”
“I think that’s the reason, yes.” She had already connected the
dots. Naturally, it was pure speculation, but it felt right to her. “Lord
Ainz said he had two goals, but this is Lord Ainz. It can’t be just two.
So maybe his third goal was to make sure we’re giving it our all.”
 “Oh…with all our new outside work, he wants to make sure we
aren’t neglecting our most important core duties?”
Aura had some idea why that might be needed.
Once, Albedo and Demiurge had divided everything between
themselves, leaving the other guardians—especially Shalltear and
Cocytus—to stare in envy. Now everyone had more work taking
them out of Nazarick. When they’d crushed the kingdom, their
respective might had given them the opportunity to prove their
loyalty. And their master might suspect these changes had everyone
a little giddy.
No matter what else lay on their plates, they were Nazarick
guardians. Defending and managing their assigned floor was an
ever-present duty. He must want to remind them not to let all their
new assignments distract from that.
But forcing their master to express concern about their work
performance was a dereliction of duty. If the other guardians—
especially their captain, Albedo—learned of this, they would be in for
a furious scolding. Refusing to spell it out was their master’s way of
showing kindness.
“Maybe the goal is to have us spread word of his inspection, so
everyone figures out on their own that they should tighten the reins.”
“Sounds right. That would be a fourth goal! I bet there’s even
more.”
Aura didn’t know what else there could be. Mare was equally
stumped. Maybe Demiurge and Albedo would get it, but the thought
of having to ask them was humiliating.
“Anyway, get ready!”
“Um, for what?”
“Oh, sorry! I forgot to tell you. I mentioned two goals, right? The
first is the observation, but the second goal is to meet those elves we
gave that empty room to.”
“Oh, them. They won’t shut up about the whole royalty thing. Is
Lord Ainz gonna take them away?”
Mare sounded pretty frustrated.
He loved lying around in bed, but those elves seemed to think he
needed looking after and fussed over him a lot more than they did
Aura. They’d hang his bedding out to air or put clothes on him,
sometimes even bathe him. Mare found this all more than a bit
unnecessary, but they were here by his master’s orders, so he
couldn’t refuse their “help.”
“Oh, Fen’s almost here. Not sure how long it’ll take us, Mare, but
be ready.”
“Mm. Got it.”
Aura ended the call and went back to her master.

The flower field on Nazarick’s sixth layer had blooms of all colors.
Theoretical invaders would have to survive pure hell to get this far
and would likely assume this area must have monsters in disguise or
fatal traps lurking within. They would be wrong, of course.
It merely looked ominous. In fact, nothing here was for invaders at
all.
The world of Yggdrasil did have plant monsters that could
disguise themselves as flowers, and plenty of bug monsters besides.
They just hadn’t been placed here. There was generally a domain
guardian stationed anywhere noteworthy—but again, not here.
Arguably, it was under Aura’s and Mare’s direct purview, but it
was just pretty flowers.
There had been plans to add traps.
No one capable of reaching the sixth floor would ever believe
these were simply regular flowers. They’d be too suspicious to go
near or try and get the drop on lurking threats by setting the field on
fire. The idea had been to counter that with flowers that released a
virulent poison or paralytic when burned. But the three female guild
members had violently objected to this, and they’d gone back to the
drawing board. The result—a field of completely normal flowers.
That was the flower field Ainz knew. A far cry from what he found
today.
Giant blossoms sat in the center of the field, each large enough
for a human to fit inside. Twelve in all. Obviously unsafe—or outright
threatening.
Ainz searched his memory.
This world had many monsters Ainz was unfamiliar with, but he’d
seen a monster like this in Yggdrasil.
“Are those an alraune?”
“Yes! They are!”
There had been none within Nazarick, and no one had
summoned any since their arrival here. This was an exterior species
—creatures brought here from the Tove Woodlands.
There was a conspicuous shovel stuck in the ground near the
field’s center.
A god item, the Earth Recoverer.
As a god-tier weapon, it had obscene amounts of durability, but its
actual attack power was horrifyingly low because the bulk of its data
had been dedicated to its support power.
Nearby was a creature resembling a giant Angora rabbit—a
spearneedle. It was sitting in the middle of the field, munching away
at a gigantic carrot. What an idyllic sight. Downright bucolic. But that
was likely not the creature’s purpose here.
He’d have to ask Aura to be sure, but he felt confident it was on
watch duty.
The spearneedle’s level was in the upper 60s. It could easily wipe
out the alraune if they tried anything.
“The carrot it’s nibbling on was grown in our fields. Pinison and
the other plant monsters combined their abilities, giving it tons of
nutrients, and were able to alter ordinary carrots to that size.”
“So it’s been engineered to be that size and didn’t grow that big
naturally? Is it safe to eat? Then again, considering this
spearneedle’s level, I’m sure no ordinary poison would do much.”
“It’s not poisonous at all! We checked with the head chef, and it
meets his standards for consumption. The downside is that eating it
doesn’t provide any buffs like the food we had in Nazarick to begin
with. It’s just bigger and sweeter.”
“But from a logistics standpoint, that sounds like a success. Can
these be grown in ordinary farms in our territory?”
“Nope. Even with the help of the plant monsters, we’re still not
capable of growing them in large numbers. Even with Earth
Recoverer’s power, a single carrot absorbs a ton of nutrients from
the soil. Not enough to cause desertification, but if you don’t use
magic to restore the earth, you’d have to leave the field fallow for a
year.”
As they looked over the field, one of the blossoms—the largest—
began to unfurl.
“The alraune lord. In charge of the fourteen alraune here,” Aura
whispered. Clearly indicating the unfurling flower.
“Fourteen?” Ainz asked, counting again. “Not twelve?”
“The other two are newborns and are hidden beneath the flowers.
Should I pull them up for you?”
“…No, that won’t be necessary.”
If they were born within Nazarick, did they count as Nazarick
denizens or not? What were their abilities? Many questions sprang
to mind, but before he could throw any of them at Aura, the alraune
finished blooming.
Within was a female form, exactly what he’d expected—her
appearance the spitting image of the alraune he’d fought in
Yggdrasil. This one was apparently a lord, but size aside, there was
no other visible difference.
Her hair and eyes matched the petals around her, while her body
was the same green as her stem. She wore no clothes, but her body
was formed from thin, coiled tendrils, so the overall impression was
rather unsettling.
The eyes turned up at the outside, which did not make her look
friendly—if anything, she seemed openly irate.
Ainz felt a wave of nostalgia. There was a certain girl in the
Sacred Kingdom who had a similar intimidating glare.
He’d never been great at remembering faces, but her eyes had
really stuck with him.
This monster’s face twisted ominously.
“Good morning, Lady Aura. We bathe in glorious light once again,
and I speak for all that is green when I offer my gratitude.”
She spoke with a voice like a bell, and there was no trace of
hostility in it. Her tone sounded quite reverent, in fact. Apparently,
that sinister smile was supposed to be a welcoming one. Ainz still
wasn’t fully convinced those twisted lips were anything but wicked.
The remaining blooms stirred but did not unfurl. Their eyes
peeked from among the petals, stealing glances at the visitors.
Unsure what they intended by this behavior, Ainz couldn’t exactly
call it rude. It was possible that in alraune culture, this was a sign of
the highest respect.
“Is this…?” The lord glanced at Ainz.
“You stand before the ruler of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, the
one who conquered your forest and the regions around it, the king of
kings who reigns over all races in the Nation of Darkness. The
absolute authority, His Majesty, the King of Darkness, Ainz Ooal
Gown!”
As Aura started boasting, the lord’s smile grew all the more
malicious. The other alraune fluttered their petals, hiding their faces
from view. Caution? Fear? Or merely genuflection?
Ainz gleaned nothing from their expressions, but he felt it was
most likely the second.
“A-a pleasure to make your acquaintance, ruler of this land, king
of the Nation of Darkness, and, above all, master to Lady Aura and
Lord Mare, Your Majesty, the King of Darkness, Ainz Ooal Gown.”
She spread her arms outward, presumably in a gesture of respect.
“My name is Murasaki, and I am at your disposal.”
Her name literally meant purple. Maybe because that was the
color of her hair? Ainz had no idea.
What an uncreative, lazy way to name something. Of course, he
obviously couldn’t say that aloud. There were few things more
insulting than scoffing at a name bequeathed by one’s parents. Or at
least, that’s where he assumed it came from.
“Mm, I shall remember it. That said, I have left this floor in the
charge of Aura and Mare. It is unlikely I shall ever offer direct orders
here. You may continue to act as they have instructed.”
He had no clue how the twins were handling these alraune, so he
kept things unspecific. It was a real headache if the CEO said
anything that contradicted the departmental manager’s instructions.
He’d experienced that firsthand.
 He had no idea what function these creatures fulfilled or how they
were being treated, so there was nothing he could safely say.
“As you wish, Your Majesty.”
Ainz was impressed. Despite her forest upbring, Murasaki had
impeccable manners. Where and when had she acquired this
knowledge? Had the twins coached her, or…?
Perhaps she’s simply saying something more alraune-like, in the
general ballpark. For all I know, she might have said, Ainz, your bud
is so big!
It was a relief that they could understand each other, but he
couldn’t shake the apprehension that this could create problems
without anyone ever noticing until it was too late. Not that he would
object even if she had called him a big bud.
Ainz glanced around the flower field.
The alraune obscured the view a bit, which was a shame, but
otherwise it was exactly as he remembered it.
Ainz smiled faintly—naturally, his actual face of bone didn’t move
an inch—then swished his robes as majestically as he could before
turning on his heel to rejoin the giant wolf and itzamna and Lumièlle.
Aura was immediately at his side.
“You’re done here?” she asked. “Don’t want to give the other
alraune an audience?”
“I don’t see the need. I’ve accomplished what I came to do. Take
me to the elves next.”
“Very well!” Aura said. They hopped on Fenrir and rode off across
the sixth floor.
Soon, they neared their destination. Looking up through the
branches, he could see the somewhat oddly shaped tree that Aura
and Mare called home.
A few moments later, they left the woods behind, emerging onto a
grassy knoll. At the center of this clearing was a stout tree, wider
than it was tall, its close-knit branches casting a large shadow across
the ground.
There was a gaping hollow in the tree’s trunk, and before it stood
Mare, with three elves in attendance. They had come out to greet
Ainz upon his arrival.
 He wasn’t sure when Aura had sent word to Mare, but if it had
been right after his arrival on the floor, they must have been waiting
awhile.
He’d made no specific appointment, and there was no need to
feel guilty about this, logically speaking.
At the same time…
If he was a branch manager and got word that the company’s
president had arrived at the nearest station, he would have
immediately gone to stand out front. Failing to be there to greet a
superior was out of the question. He knew that yet had failed to be
more specific with his schedule, meaning this was on him.
This eventuality had not crossed his mind until he had arrived, so
a part of him wanted to let it pass without comment. But was that
appropriate? Regardless of how long he’d actually kept them
standing here, saying something thoughtless, like Oh, you shouldn’t
have waited up, would only be demeaning and emphasize their
position in the hierarchy.
Mare was dressed in his usual gear, and the elves wore drab
fatigues. Some humans might’ve found that alluring in its own way.
Ainz thought the choice of clothing was a bit…off…but if the twins
wanted it this way, he wasn’t going to argue.
More importantly…
If they were dressed as maids, Lumièlle wouldn’t be the only one
objecting.
The regular maids seemed to take great pride in personally
serving Ainz. If he brought in outsiders as potential new additions to
the staff, perhaps they wouldn’t be overtly mean. At the same time,
Sebas had mentioned they might engage in some passive-
aggressive pettiness. Purposely neglecting to teach the new hires
how to complete a certain task, for instance.
If these elves waited on only Aura and Mare as maids, then it
might ruffle fewer feathers, but that wasn’t guaranteed. Just seeing
them dressed in the same uniform might be provocative. The maids
considered those clothes their battle gear.
With that thought, he realized Fenrir had reached the waiting
party.
 “I appreciate your coming out to greet me,” Ainz said, making the
first move while still mounted. “I am thoroughly pleased with the
depth of your loyalty.”
He had considered waiting until after Mare greeted him, but
thanking him first was important to impart the impression that he was
nice.
“Th-thank you,” Mare said, smiling and bowing. The elves
followed suit, lowering their heads.
Good.
Ainz thought this interaction had gotten off on the right foot and
pumped a fist inside his mind.
When the elves raised their heads, he looked them over.
Their faces—and bodies—were very stiff. When they sensed his
gaze on them, they gulped.
Anyone could tell they were anxious. The question was whether
that sprang from fear or something else. In other words, was it fear
that a single false move would end their lives, or was it more like the
tension that typically came with meeting someone famous?
Just in case, Ainz doubled-checked to ensure he had no auras
active. He felt no hostility or animosity toward these elves, so that
couldn’t be the source of their fear.
This could be tricky. I thought I was getting better at it, too…
When beings as powerful as Ainz experienced strong emotions,
everyone nearby could sense it, often striking fear into their hearts.
This could betray what he was thinking, so when training with
Cocytus, he’d received some pointers on controlling it.
Personally, Ainz was not great at sensing hostility from others.
Cocytus had been extremely reluctant, but at Ainz’s insistence, the
guardian had directed those emotions at his master. There was a
sort of…pressure, but Ainz couldn’t really discern from that whether
someone wanted to kill him or not.
Perhaps the undead simply weren’t sensitive to these things. As a
general rule, they negated psychic effects entirely. He felt it was
reasonable to argue that sensing enmity was a form of psychic
feedback, after all.
But Shalltear seemed to have no trouble detecting it, and Cocytus
had said that improving your skills as a warrior would help it become
second nature. Perhaps he would get better over time. A worthy goal
if nothing else. And Ainz couldn’t rule out the possibility that he was
just inherently oblivious.
Whoops, my mind’s wandering.
He refocused just as Mare spoke up.
“Er, um, so, ahem. L-Lord Ainz, you said you w-wished to speak
to these elves. May I ask what about?”
Mare was being extra timid today and had clearly spoken to Aura
ahead of time. He could cut to the chase.
Ainz looked from Mare to the elves, consciously turning his head.
Their eyes darted to the ground, fleeing his gaze. They were visibly
shaking.
That was definitely not just tense.
This must stem from emotional fear. I have child dark elves like
Aura and Mare in my employ, and they still don’t trust me? They
already know living creatures have sworn fealty and live here in
peace. Honestly, why haven’t they figured out that I’m not like the
bog-standard undead by now…? I suppose I can’t help the way I
look. Perhaps their minds understand but their hearts won’t listen.
In this world, all undead loathed the living. They were the mortal
enemy of all who lived. Coming face-to-face with a being like that
would put most people on edge. Terrify them, even.
Perhaps if he’d placed them under Shalltear and they had more
experience with the undead residents of Nazarick, they’d have
gotten more used to the general concept and handled this better, but
there weren’t many undead on the sixth floor. There had been no
natural opportunity.
Seeing something with your own eyes is better than hearing
about it from a hundred others.
This had been true in Yggdrasil as well.
Game-play techniques, acquired skills—simply demonstrating
them was far more useful than issuing verbal instructions. Ainz
would always follow up by practicing a hundred—if not thousands of
—times, committing ideas to heart and making them his own.
“Yes, that is true, Mare. I have one…yes, a simple topic to discuss
with them.”
The elves’ breathing grew shallow. Rapid.
He longed to tell them there was no need for fear, but cheerily
going, Aw, don’t be so scared ♪, was out of the question. He couldn’t
drop the act. He had to be Ainz Ooal Gown, ruler of Nazarick, at all
times. He’d have to find some other way to settle them down.
“But do not worry. I am not here to harm you in any way.”
He came very close to asking them to relax but then figured he’d
never buy that line from anyone he feared. He was better off leaving
it unsaid. If the boss urged someone to speak freely, could anyone
actually forget who they were speaking to?
Sigh. What a hassle.
He knew it was a bad idea, but using Dominate to control their
mental states would make this easier. Certainly easier than trying to
make them feel safe with words alone.
But if he did use a spell like that, once it was over, they’d
remember what he’d said and what they’d done. And most people in
this world viewed mind-control spells as intrinsically barbaric.
He wasn’t sure if elves were among them, but he doubted they
considered it a good thing. In fact, if someone did the same to
anyone in Nazarick, Ainz would immediately begin looking for an
opening to deliver the culprit a fatal blow.
Naturally, if they had a need for information, he would not hesitate
to resort to those measures. He had no qualms about using Control
Amnesia right after, either.
But there was no need to go that far here. They had done nothing
wrong, and he had no reason to believe they were hiding
information. Most of all…
This isn’t like the Zen…bel (?) situation. Using spells to get
information where a conversation would suffice is like scolding Aura
and Mare for failing to get the intel I need. I wouldn’t blame them for
interpreting that as my doubting their skills.
The twins—no, everyone belonging to the Great Tomb of
Nazarick—believed Ainz could do no wrong. In all honesty, it was an
alarming proposition, but he had to act in accordance with their
unswerving faith.
 And that meant he should do his absolute best to avoid coming
across as doubting their ability to fulfill their duties. No telling how
they’d react, and he would never think anything of the sort in the first
place.
Besides, if he wanted to use mind-control spells, they could have
done that ages ago.
He’d decided not to when these elves were first captured because
he wished to seem friendly and welcoming—to maintain the fiction
that he’d saved them from their suffering. That had been an
investment in the future, and throwing that away for a magical
shortcut seemed rash.
“Mm, well, speaking here won’t do. Let’s move.”
He didn’t think he could convince them with words alone, so he’d
have to try something else. Location was a good start.
“Then come on upstairs!”
“Y-yes, please do!”
“Ah…”
Ainz glanced up at the tree above.
Would this work as a setting for their conversation?
In a sense, this was their home turf. That might make it easier to
talk to them. But who would prepare the drinks? Aura or Mare? No,
he had Lumièlle with him; she could handle it.
Not a bad idea. Will this conversation be a relaxed one or fraught
with tension? Will they be volunteering information in a friendly
manner or relinquishing it under duress? Hmm, I don’t have time. I
swear, I used to get my presentation notes in order first, predicting
how they’d respond, what questions they’d ask. That’s exactly what I
did with the dwarves and the Sacred Kingdom. Am I getting sloppy?
He’d been offered an invitation. He had to respond as soon as
possible. But moments like these always sent his thoughts spiraling
away.
…You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the regular maids offer
drinks of their own accord. Or, no…maybe one time…I think?
It wasn’t that they couldn’t. Ainz had ordered it once, and they’d
offered up a broad selection of refreshments, soda included. They
must be kept on hand somewhere within Ainz’s room. The regular
maids were constantly striving to be the best attendants they could
be. He couldn’t imagine they’d ever be discourteous or let anything
slip their minds.
So perhaps they believed that since their ruler could not drink
anything, no one else should, either. The same way it was tough for
anyone else to order booze if the boss wasn’t drinking.
He felt the correct response would be to prepare a drink for Ainz
—whether he could drink or not—and then offer drinks to the guests.
I feel bad for everyone who’s visited me.
When he got back, he’d have to consult Pestonia on the matter.
Then he realized this was unrelated to the issue at hand and hastily
course-corrected.
Wait, wait, what the hell am I thinking?! I need to focus on where
we’ll drink. If I waste any more time, they’ll think I don’t want to come
in! That would be awful. But…!
At a loss, he glanced around.
“Oh!” Aura suddenly said, and Ainz barely stopped his shoulders
from twisting. Perhaps the shock had been so great, his emotions
had been forcibly calmed. “Were you thinking of speaking
somewhere else? Not here but out on the sixth floor?”
“M-mm. Indeed. It’s a nice day, so I thought we might talk
outside.”
“We can make that happen. We’ve got a table and an umbrella
ready! Lady BubblingTeapot once used them to chat with the other
Supreme Beings! She made it so we can use them! There are
unused houses back at the village, and I didn’t show you this before,
but this floor actually has a gazebo, too!”
“Yes, I’ve been there with the others.”
Ainz found himself recalling the idle chatter he used to have with
his guildmates.
I feel like I get lost in these memories less than I used to.
Maybe he no longer saw the shadows of his friends in the NPCs
as often. Was he forgetting his old companions, or had he begun to
properly see the NPCs as individuals? He preferred the latter
explanation, but the thought that the former might be true was
saddening.
 Everything Satoru Suzuki had—all those dazzling, happy
memories—had been shared with them.
No! It’s not just memories! Ainz Ooal Gown lives here and now!
Emotions he could not put a name to scorched his heart, and he
let out a long breath. His gaze turned to Aura and Mare.
When…when they left this place, how did that feel? No, at the
time, the NPCs were nothing more. If not, then… Argh.
He shook his head.
His thoughts were growing increasingly fragmented. He had to
focus on the task at hand.
Ainz glanced at the faces around him, but nobody seemed to
suspect anything amiss.
They must have thought he was considering Aura’s proposition.
Best he put a pin in his musings for now.
“Let me see… This floor isn’t bad, but…why don’t we go
elsewhere? Show them other parts of our domain.”
If he really wanted this to be a friendly meeting, holding it in
familiar territory was effective. But he was inclined to leave this
place.
In which case—where could they go? Two ideas sprang to mind.
The first was E-Rantel. And the second—the ninth floor of
Nazarick.
If he showed off how the city was filled with many races, living in
harmony, he felt sure it would leave a good impression. But there
was no guarantee nothing would go wrong. Direct assaults or
violence could be easily dealt with and explained away. But what if
someone made a terrible impression? Acting like they were suffering
because of the King of Darkness? That would leave him worse off
than he was now.
He could use mind control on a crowd and feed them all lines—
but that might make the elves suspicious. It didn’t seem like an
effective strategy.
And Ainz was still widely feared in E-Rantel. There were those
who’d learned to admire him, but not many. Less than 30 percent, all
told. Showing people acting scared of him would be inadvisable. And
if the elves assumed the races there were little more than slaves, the
whole thing would blow up in his face.
In which case…the ninth floor. But where on it?
Should he take them to his office and have Lumièlle practice
serving drinks?
He considered that.
Drinks prepared in the boss’s office? Or drinks at a café? Which
would be more relaxing?
“The answer is clear. Where else could we go? The ninth floor it
is. There’s a cafeteria there. We can eat—have you eaten?”
“N-no. N-not yet.”
“Excellent. Then the timing works out well.”
He’d had that in mind from the start.
Most people let their guards down when their stomachs were full.
But it had taken more time to get here than he’d expected. He’d
been afraid he’d arrived too late, but luck had been on his side. No—
they’d been warned of his arrival the moment he reached the floor.
Uncertain when he’d appear, no one had considered eating first.
“Good, then we’ll chat over lunch,” Ainz said. He turned to the
elves. “What say you?”
They quickly looked at one another, silently wrestling with which
of them would have to speak. The one in the middle wound up
answering, less because she spoke for all of them and more
because she’d been beset from both sides.
“Y-yes, Your Majesty. If Lady Aura and Lord Mare approve, we’d
be happy to join you.”
Ainz agreed. They could hardly accept without involving the twins.
He turned to them.
“If you’ve no objections, shall we take them to the cafeteria? I’d
love for you to join us as well.”
“We’re in! Right, Mare?”
“Er, um. Uh, I mean, yes, Aura’s right! I-I’m in.”
“Glad to hear it. Then…” Ainz glanced at the elves. “Let me open
a Gate.”
 2

He first used a spell to move them to the sixth floor’s teleportation

gate. Then he sent a Message to Aureole, who managed those,
ordering her to connect one to the ninth floor. Naturally, the gate from
the eight to the ninth floor was operating properly—or else there was
a high chance Ariadne would kick in.
Technically, there was no need to be this complicated.
There was a limit to how many could be transported by the Ring
of Ainz Ooal Gown, so they couldn’t all go at once, but he could have
simply popped back to pick up any stragglers. He was jumping
through these hoops out of an abundance of caution to avoid
revealing everything to the elves. Ainz mostly didn’t want anyone
seeing what the ring could do.
Beyond the ninth-floor gate, Cocytus’s minions stood guard.
When Ainz appeared, they bowed their heads.
“Well done,” he intoned, acting as a ruler should.
Aura and Lumièlle came out next and then the elves behind them,
in a row. But the instant they saw the row of monsters bowing to him,
they froze on the spot.
Cocytus’s minions weren’t trying to intimidate them. But if a mere
mortal was out for a stroll in the woods and ran into a tiger—they
would be scared stiff. That was basically what had happened here.
Someone gave an elf a gentle push from behind.
They’d stopped right by the gate’s exit. Mare was last in line, and
they were preventing him from getting out. That was why he’d
nudged them along—being careful not to push too hard—but they
were already at their limit, and this proved too much for her.
“Eep…,” she squealed. Her body swayed, and she sat down
heavily. The elves on either side looked horrified and tried to help her
up, but there was no strength in her legs, and they weren’t getting
anywhere.
“Don’t be alarmed. You are within Nazarick, and no one here will
harm you.”
“Y-yes, sire…”
She didn’t doubt his word, but it also wasn’t enough to calm her
down.
The elves on either side of her were nodding a bit too fast, their
hair thrashing around. The seated elf looked ready to burst into
tears.
This was a disaster and would have repercussions. Ainz was sure
of it. He had to get them stabilized immediately.
“Let’s take a rest before we head to the cafeteria—Gate. Aura,
carry her.”
“Yes, sir!”
“N-no, I couldn’t ask Lady Aura to—”
“It’s fine; I don’t mind. Come on.”
Aura ignored the elf’s protests and easily scooped her up. She
placed the elf on her shoulders. Since she was wearing fatigues,
there was no skirt to worry about.
Through the black half-orb—the Gate—was his office.
He spotted three maids with their heads down. Cleaning
implements rested at their feet.
“Good work,” Ainz said. “We’ll be taking a quick break and leaving
again. You can continue cleaning.”
The maids nodded and bowed again—just as the last of the party
made it through the Gate.
The elves’ jaws were wide open, gaping at the room around them.
Rather silly-looking. It was nothing like the twins’ home and clearly
new to them. They looked more relaxed already. The regular maids
were much easier to deal with than the monsters under Cocytus’s
command. They were not something to fear.
“Aura, she can use that chair.”
Ainz pointed at Albedo’s seat, and Aura nodded, setting the elf
down on it. Albedo’s desk was as spotless as its owner, while Ainz’s
desk was mostly just empty.
“Th-thank you,” the elf said.
Doing his best to sound nice, Ainz said, “I understand your
surprise. But like I said, you have nothing to fear. Nothing in Nazarick
will harm you—any of you. Relax and enjoy yourselves.”
But that was easier said than done.
He turned away from them and moved to one of the maids.
“We’re heading to the cafeteria next. Can you clear the halls on
the way of anything but maids? And the cafeteria—” He considered
clearing that room but thought better of it. “No, strike that. Let the
cafeteria be used like it always is. Perhaps it would be better if you
maids were there.”
“Certainly, sir. I’ll go right away.”
“Sorry to pull you from your duties, but please do.”
“Not at all, Lord Ainz.”
He’d chosen her only because she was closest, but she clearly
didn’t realize that. She shot her colleagues a smile—a triumphant
one. They didn’t even try to hide their frustration, groaning aloud.
One eye on her colleagues, the maid left the room to carry out her
orders.
Ainz could feel the other maids’ eyes on him—it was rare he was
this sensitive. They were clearly hoping for special instructions of
their own. Ainz duty already counted as a special assignment, so
Lumièlle was taking things in stride.
He’d really stepped in it this time. Naturally, the maids didn’t mean
to pour the pressure on—he was feeling that all on his own. But Ainz
found himself tearing his attention away from them, turning back to
the elf on the chair. He had to check to make sure she was breathing
normally again.
“Feeling better? Then let’s be on our way.”
The last thing he wanted to do was rush her or make this
compulsory, but he didn’t want to linger here, either.
Certain the elf could walk again, Ainz led the way out the door. It
took everything he had to pretend to not notice the maids’
disappointment.
On the way to the cafeteria, he could hear the elves oohing and
aahing, occasionally saying, “Wow” or “So beautiful!”
He resisted the urge to start boasting and kept facing forward.
At length, they reached their destination. There were no minions
along the way, but it had taken a while. The elves had been so busy
gawking, they hadn’t exactly been fleet of foot, and Ainz himself had
slowed down anywhere he particularly wanted to show off. Their
progress had been otherwise unhindered.
The cafeteria on Nazarick’s ninth floor was supposed to resemble
those found at most companies or schools, though there had been
no such thing at Ainz’s own school or company, so he could not
personally verify how accurate that was in a general sense. It was
undoubtedly a far cry from your typical restaurant interior.
He had not stepped foot here since his initial tour of Nazarick
upon his arrival in this world, but at a glance, nothing seemed to
have changed. From within, he heard the chatter of girls and the
clatter of silverware on dishes.
Likely all people who worked on the ninth and tenth floors,
primarily regular maids, were currently eating inside. Maybe a few
domain guardians as well. It was a little late for lunch, but the interior
was abuzz with activity. Perhaps they ate in shifts.
The sight of maids cheerily enjoying their meals would help the
elves to surmise what this facility was for. This was unfamiliar
territory, so they might feel a bit out of place, but with everyone going
about their lives, it would be easy enough for them to settle down.
That was why he’d chosen not to empty out the cafeteria.
But the moment Ainz stepped in, that peaceful lunch vibe
vanished.
Not a sound remained.
The happy chattering, the sounds of food being eaten—all that
evaporated. The tension in the air felt like no cafeteria on earth.
Every head in the room turned their way. Eyes peeled, no one
even dared to move.
Nothing could be more alienating.
It was like a grotesque player with negative karma wandering into
Alfheim.
“Pay us no heed,” he said. “Continue your meals.”
Almost all the diners scattered around the expansive interior were
regular maids. At his word, they all resumed their meals. But there
was no sign of them resuming their conversations. Everyone ate in
silence.
 Ainz had not meant to disrupt their lunch hour and felt rather sad
about this. But then he put himself in their shoes and realized
something.
A boss who never visited the lunchroom suddenly making an
appearance—anyone would react like this. Satoru Suzuki certainly
would have. Perhaps if this was a smaller company, and the CEO
was closer with the low-rung workers, this outcome could have been
avoided.
But not here.
Lord Ainz was revered and universally greeted with bowed heads.
Attempting a sudden culture shift to the friendly neighborhood Mr.
Ainz was simply not in the cards. It might be possible if his true
nature was discovered and everyone knew he was a fool—but
turning himself into a laughingstock (however unlikely) was hardly a
goal to strive for.
“Come on in,” he said, turning back.
As he did, he surreptitiously took stock of the elves’ reactions.
There wasn’t much that needed studying. A single glance made it
clear they were shriveling up. Of course they were. They hadn’t
missed how Ainz’s entrance had shattered the peaceful mood here.
Or the GIA (Grotesque in Alfheim) factor.
He had no clue how to fix this.
He just hoped time would heal things. Possibly a tad optimistic,
but for the moment, he decided to stride purposefully into the
cafeteria.
Not wanting to stress out the maids any further, he found a table
removed from the crowds and gestured at the seats across from his.
“Take a seat.”
The elves exchanged nervous glances. Like they were deciding
who would draw the short straw and sit opposite Ainz. That was
almost certainly what was happening.
“…Yes, my understanding of manners may differ from that of the
elves. At this table, we are all equals and need not concern
ourselves with stiff propriety. No one will mind, no matter how
different our ideas of etiquette might be.”
A generous interpretation of their behavior that also offered them
an excuse to act less wary. If they were too hesitant, that itself was a
problem. Ainz also didn’t want to find out what would happen if Aura
and Mare got frustrated by their obvious reluctance.
“Go on, sit before me,” Ainz said, pointing at the elf in the back.
She had yet to stand in the middle of the group, so it was only fair
she took her turn in the hot seat.
Honestly, he didn’t enjoy framing it that way, but he also
understood why they’d be desperate to avoid it, so he did his best to
handle the matter professionally.
Things moved fast from there.
The elf he’d pointed at sat down, and the others took spots on
either side. Aura and Mare flanked Ainz himself.
Lumièlle stood behind Ainz. He had thoughts on that but kept
them to himself.
“Well then. I’m afraid this is my first time using the cafeteria.
Would you mind explaining how things work here?” He directed this
question at Lumièlle. Her colleagues were making use of it, so he
figured she would know. “First…let’s get some drinks. Is there a
menu?”
“At this time of day, we usually help ourselves to drinks. And the
buffet. Drinks can be found over there. That table has simple sides,
and we can take as much as we can eat.”
He followed her pointing finger toward a table that held a number
of pitchers, presumably with a variety of beverages inside. Past that
was a row of chafing dishes.
“Finally, we can select one dish from the lunch menu here.”
“Aha.”
“The head chef is in the kitchen, Lord Ainz. A word from you, and
he’ll prepare anything you wish.”
“I’m sure. But that won’t be necessary. If there’s a set lunch menu,
we’ll order from that.”
He took the menu from her.
It was written in Japanese. The elves wouldn’t be able to read it.
And—
“…Have you even heard of katsudon?”
They shook their heads.
 “…Aura, Mare, what do they normally eat?”
“Normal food!”
“Y-yes. M-more or less, er, just like our food. The same food.”
Then had the twins never eaten katsudon, either? No, they were
likely getting food from the delivery service and could cook for
themselves, too.
“Have you not had katsudon?”
“No, we’ve eaten that. I think they just didn’t know the name.”
“Oh, that explains it.”
The menu didn’t exactly have holographic photographs attached
to it, so they couldn’t see what the dishes looked like.
“What do…?” But he realized if he asked for a recommendation,
the answer would be Everything’s good, and he decided not to
bother. “Hmm… Oh, can you eat meat?”
The elves all nodded, so he picked an option from the menu.
“Let’s just all have the Salisbury steak set.”
“You can choose between demi-glace, Japanese-style, or
mustard cream sauce, accompanied by either rice or bread. Which
would you prefer?”
“…Let’s say bread and the demi-glace.”
He had an idea what that and the Japanese sauce would taste
like, but mustard cream was a complete mystery. A shame that this
body could never find out.
“That works!”
“Um, yes. I’m, uh, fine with that, too!”
The twins confirmed immediately, and the elves just nodded. No
one disagreed.
“Then make it so.”
He let out a little breath, assuming that settled things—but
Lumièlle showed no signs of heading to the kitchen. Why not? Would
staff come to take their order?
“Lord Ainz, what about drinks?”
“Oh, right. Let’s have everyone fetch whatever they’d like. Does
that work?”
“Yes. I’ll fetch your beverage, Lord Ainz. What would you like?”
“It doesn’t ma— Actually, I’ll have a hot coffee.”
 “Coming right up.”
Aura led the company off toward the drinks counter.
Meanwhile, Lumièlle went to the kitchen and said something that
apparently provoked a commotion.
Something burst out of the kitchen door.
Naked from the waist up, a massive cleaver strapped to his hip,
and a large wok on his back. The kanji for fresh meat tattooed on his
corpulent chest, below a chunky gold chain.
His face resembled an orc’s but actually belonged to a related
species, a wilder breed known as an orcus.
A chef’s hat sat upon his head, and a white apron wrapped
around his waist.
This was the cafeteria domain guardian and head chef—
Shihoutsu Tokitsu.
Moving nimbly, the orcus dashed over to Ainz and took a knee.
Ainz wondered if this was dirtying his apron.
“Lord Ainz! Welcome to my humble domain.”
“It’s been a while, Shihoutsu Tokitsu. A pleasure to see you
unchanged.”
“Thank you!”
He’d said unchanged, but he had not met the chef since the huge
meeting with all the NPCs upon his initial arrival here. It had been far
too long, and he likely wouldn’t have noticed any changes even if
there had been any.
“Or have you lost weight?”
“If you believe that to be the case, Lord Ainz, then it must be
true.”
That definitely wasn’t how he’d intended it, but he resisted the
urge to argue.
“I received your order from the good lady, but it lacked an item for
yourself. I understand completely!”
Shihoutsu Tokitsu flashed an extremely dude-bro grin—it was sort
of hard to tell under that hairy snout, but Ainz was pretty sure about
this, which convinced him the chef understood absolutely nothing.
Had anyone ever gotten something like this on the first try? Sadly,
probably not.
 “Lord Ainz, I will prepare you a feast befitting the absolute ruler of
Nazarick, the greatest of Supreme Beings!”
See, Ainz thought, but Shihoutsu Tokitsu was already on his feet
and hollering at the kitchen.
“I wade across death’s own line! Cuisine worthy of Lord Ainz! A
banquet that will outlast the week itself!”
“Ohhhh,” the watching maids crooned in amazement.
“Nope, wait a minute.”
“Of course!”
Shihoutsu Tokitsu was back on bended knee in an instant.
Ainz could almost see the fires of passion burning in his eyes,
eager to impress—which made this news all the harder to break. He
had long believed if the NPCs wished to do a thing, he should play
along, but this was more than a bit much.
“…Perhaps you are suffering from a misapprehension, so let me
be clear. I am undead and cannot eat at all.”
“Indeed, sir! The feast will be a delight for the nostrils! An
olfactory cornucopia! Coming right up!”
He jumped to his feet again.
“No, wait.”
“Of course!”
“Calm yourself. When I say I cannot eat, that means I do not wish
to waste food.”
“Lord Ainz, that is inconceivable. No food prepared for you could
possibly be a waste. Right?”
Shihoutsu Tokitsu spun around, calling out to everyone in the
cafeteria. A hearty round of applause was the reply. It wasn’t only the
maids—Aura and Mare were clapping, too. The elves hastily joined
in.
Ainz privately wished they hadn’t.
“I’ll get right—”
“No, stop.”
“Of course!”
The chef was back on his knees.
“I’ll just come right out and say it. I am not here to eat. I am here
to enjoy a conversation. I appreciate your eagerness to serve me,
but I do not want you to. I merely wish to have a relaxed discussion.
Does that make sense?”
Ainz fully understood why Shihoutsu Tokitsu was so excessively
enthusiastic. He had always believed his ruler would never enter his
domain, yet here he was. Naturally, he wished to provide the finest
hospitality possible. But that was not what Ainz wanted.
“Sir, in that case, I will ensure you have the place to yourselves!”
“No, don’t.”
“Of course!”
“Do nothing dramatic. Again, I am just here to enjoy a
conversation. There is absolutely no need to do anything like that.”
Ainz glanced at the others—especially the elves—and everyone
was looking very serious.
The maids were already halfway out of their seats, ready to leave
at any moment. Aura and Mare looked just as they always did, while
the elves seemed largely alarmed by how out of hand this was
getting. But the whole reason he’d picked this location was to avoid
giving them that impression.
“I am not trying to be modest. I came here specifically to do that. I
want to see everyone acting as you always do. Pay me no heed.”
“Your wish is my command, Lord Ainz. But you are a Supreme
Being, and I cannot simply treat you as I would any other!”
This might be a bit mean, but the situation left him with no choice.
Ainz cleared his throat and lowered his voice.
“Shihoutsu Tokitsu.”
“Yes, Lord Ainz!”
“I said I wish to see this facility operating as it always does. You
need do nothing out of the ordinary to demonstrate the dedication
with which you perform your daily duties. Or is there a reason why
you should behave differently? Something you wish to hide?”
Shihoutsu Tokitsu gulped, and a resolute look crossed his face.
(Probably?)
“Lord Ainz, I must protest. I, Shihoutsu Tokitsu, was placed in
charge of this domain by one of the Supreme Beings, by Lord
Amanomahitotsu himself! I have never and would never do anything
to disgrace him!”
 “I imagine not.”
The chef looked surprised.
“Even in this brief interaction, I have sensed your dedication to
your craft, your devotion to those you call the Supreme Beings. I
spoke out of turn, and I retract that statement. You have my
apologies.”
Ainz bowed his head.
“Ohhh! Lord Ainz! Please do not act like this! For a Supreme
Being to bow his head to one so beneath him! I beg you, raise your
magnificent visage at once!”
Ainz slowly did, fixing his eyes on the boar-like chef.
“Shihoutsu Tokitsu, I thank you for accepting my apology. I wish
for you to know and understand one truth—I have come to
appreciate the sight of everyone here acting as they always do, while
enjoying a relaxed discussion of my own. Treat me as you would any
other visitor.”
The chef wrestled with that idea for a long minute but eventually
came to peace with it.
“As you wish, sir,” he said, nodding.
“Glad to hear it. Someday, I am sure I will find occasion to invite
company to Nazarick—visitors of high rank and status. On that
occasion, I will assuredly ask you to demonstrate your skills.”
“Yes, my lord! B-but please do not bow your head to one of my ilk
again.”
“My words disparaged you, and my contrition was genuine. But it
was not just that—Amanoma had faith in you and placed you in
charge of this domain. That apology was meant for him as well.”
Shihoutsu Tokitsu smiled awkwardly at that. He couldn’t argue the
point further. An instant later, he was all business again (as far as
Ainz could tell).
“In that case, Lord Ainz, I will begin work on the dishes you
requested.”
Ainz watched the chef’s retreating back a moment and then
addressed the room at large, raising his voice a tad.
“I apologize for the commotion, everyone. Pay us no heed and
resume your meals.”
 As the chef left, the others came back from the drinks counter.
The maids at the other tables resumed their meals, and the
atmosphere in general felt marginally less tense. Perhaps Shihoutsu
Tokitsu’s dramatic entrance had broken the ice.
The twins and the elves each had their chosen drinks in hand,
and Lumièlle set Ainz’s coffee before him.
The fragrance of the coffee reached him. There was an intriguing
hint of something berrylike mingling with the smell.
Yggdrasil had not done tie-in deals with any famous chains, but
the game’s data spread was downright ludicrous. Food was a prime
example. Any ordinary game would simply have generic “coffee
beans” and be done with it, but Yggdrasil featured multiple varieties,
each granting distinct benefits depending on the grade used.
The coffee beans housed within Nazarick were naturally high-
grade, and this coffee was likely exquisite.
I bet expensive coffee just smells like this. I wonder if it tastes of
berries, too?
Once again, Ainz regretted not being able to taste anything.
Making sure everyone was seated, he spoke.
“Let us talk as we drink,” he said.
Two of the elves had gone with melon soda, while the third had
iced green tea. Taking him at his word, each took a sip—and the
melon soda elves blinked furiously, hands clapped over their mouths.
Like they were afraid the contents would escape—Ainz took that as
a good sign.
“Bubbly! Good!”
“Sweet!”
Those words spilled out, and their glasses were soon empty. At
which point Ainz gently suggested, “Would you like to get a refill?”
“Y-yes, I certainly would!”
They both nodded and got up, hurrying back to the drinks table
with light footsteps.
“I’m pleased they enjoyed it.”
“Um, yes…,” the remaining elf said. She seemed curious about
their drinks. She chugged the rest of her tea and got up to join them.
Aura and Mare had both picked cola, but they were used to drinking
it and didn’t show much of a reaction.
Little of this had gone as planned, but the elves finally seemed to
be relaxed. They were no longer acting suspicious of his every move
based purely on him being undead.
Sweet things are very effective. Mocchi Mochi always said all
women love sweets, and no woman can resist them. It seems those
words were true. And here I always assumed they were an excuse
for her gluttony.
The other two female members of Ainz Ooal Gown had tilted their
heads—not that slimes had heads—at this bold claim but never
argued the point. And it had worked wonders on these elves. Based
on that evidence, Mocchi Mochi may have spoken the truth. Ainz still
had his doubts.
Time we get started. I’ve run through any number of simulations,
but can I get them to voluntarily talk about the elf country?
He recalled what he’d heard when he first met them.

The home of the elves lay in the woodlands to the south. It had no
name. Albedo suggested this was because they had no outside
trade and no other countries close by. With no need to differentiate
their territory from others, they had never needed a name.
It was technically a kingdom and had long been ruled by the
same man who was apparently quite strong. Strong how? What
classes? They had no idea. The elves had given Aura and Mare
baffled looks…as if to ask, how did they not know?
The elf country was currently at war with the Theocracy, which
had captured and sold their people. They didn’t know why the war
had started or even when.
This might be because the elf country had no formal educational
system. They didn’t seem interested in learning more. From what
he’d heard of the elves’ lives, they had much more important
knowledge and techniques to acquire—mostly related to fending off
monsters. As a result, they had learned nothing of their homeland’s
history and felt no particular need to do so.
He’d asked if they’d seen any dark elves at home, and they had
not. Aura and Mare were the first time they’d ever seen any. Dark
elves must be a minority in the elf country. But they’d never heard of
any ill treatment. Given their general lack of knowledge, they might
simply be ignorant of it.
And—that was it.

That was all Ainz currently knew.

To avoid raising their suspicions, he’d been forced to leave it at
that. But now he was armed with a pretext to dig deeper. The time
was ripe.
Gotta make up my mind. Do I say our countries will be breaking
diplomatic ground? Or simply say I want to visit the dark elf village so
the twins can make some friends?
If he went with the former, the sheer scale of his proposal might
cause them to tense up again. The latter would probably make more
sense to people of this world, and that might loosen their lips. And
ultimately, the latter was Ainz’s true motive. It always felt better to be
honest. Ainz lied rather a lot, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it. It
simply benefited him to do so.
And since it was possible they might learn the truth later, honesty
could be the best policy.
That would be easier. But voicing that reason where Aura and
Mare can hear…well, I can’t imagine how they’d react.
He was afraid they’d get all fired up and feel obligated to make
friends. Ainz was a firm believer in making friends through shared
interests. Forging friendships to follow orders didn’t really qualify.
Ainz remembered his fellow guild members, his Yggdrasil friends.
Bonds formed through chance encounters and natural meetings.
He wasn’t certain if children actually needed friends. Ainz—
Satoru Suzuki—had never had any, and he never really found
himself inconvenienced by it.
So why had he started thinking about the idea? Because Yamaiko
had once spoken in favor of cultivating friendships. Mind you, Ulbert
had spat back, Dream talk from a denizen of an entirely different
world.
 Ainz didn’t know which of them was right. But having friends could
hardly be considered a bad thing.
Then let’s not say friend out loud and simply say I’d like them to
get to know the other dark elves? Leave it up to them if they make
friends or not. If they can, then great!
But discrepancies in strength and roles might stand in the way of
true friendship.
In Yggdrasil, everyone had been equals.
Several of his guildmates’ faces floated across his mind, and a
shadow fell over him. He soon shook it off, casting aside the
memories and the emotions that came with them.
If they had met in real life, where they were far from equal, they
likely wouldn’t have had anything to do with each other. With that in
mind, perhaps the first thing to do was ensure that the twins started
out as equal to the dark elves as possible. They could not visit as
emissaries from the Nation of Darkness to meet villagers who were a
minority in their own country.
That means hiding their true identities however I can… Hmm. Do
the fathers of the world all think like this? Did Touch Me? Should I
have asked him more about it?
As Ainz dithered about how to broach the subject, the elves
returned with new drinks.
All colas.
Oh dear. I still haven’t collected my thoughts. I really can’t expect
to wing these things. But oh well. The twins are with us, so let’s start
by acting like I’m just asking out of curiosity. If I can’t guide the
discussion where I want, I can always say, You see…, and bring up
my personal motives. Perhaps suggest that we just want to start
small, establishing friendly relations with the dark elves.
When they were seated, he spoke quietly.
“I suppose we should begin.”
They had all been sipping away with a focus that bordered on
diligence, but their hands—or throats—stopped cold.
“We are currently building a country known as the Nation of
Darkness. We believe people of all races can live here in harmony.
We have humans, dwarves, goblins, orcs, and lizardmen coexisting
with us, becoming citizens of our nation. Whether or not elves agree
to join us, it is high time we opened diplomatic ties and established
trade relations. I’m thinking about paying your country a visit. Can I
ask your help with that?”
This was not pure pretext; diplomacy and trade weren’t bad
things. There was just one fatal problem.
Ainz himself could never be the envoy.
He simply lacked the ability to meet with foreign diplomats and
negotiate terms. Things had gone well with the dwarves, but he
could not imagine that success repeating itself. Odds were high the
exact opposite would happen.
So if they were to establish relations, he would send someone
intelligent in his place. Albedo would be best, but she was extremely
busy handling the occupation of the kingdom they had just
conquered, and he didn’t want to put anything else on her plate for a
while.
If he ordered it, she would insist she could handle it, and it was
possible she could. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t pushing herself.
For that reason, Ainz felt compelled to look after his subordinates’
well-being and mental health, being careful not to overload any of
them.
So if the envoys this time could avoid any big-deal propositions
and simply focus on making personal connections with the dark
elves, then that would suit Ainz just fine.
“Er, um, Lord Ainz Ooal Gown, h-how would we help?”
A very guarded voice. Ainz shrugged.
“I just have a few questions. And please—call me Ainz.”
“If it’s anything we know,” one elf said, her mind made up, “we
would be happy to explain. B-but, um…that form of address…I-I’m
not sure it would be…”
Aura, Mare, and the maids eavesdropping from a distance all
looked disgruntled.
If the elves called him Ainz, they’d undoubtedly provoke cries of
“Too familiar!” “Who do you think you are?!” but if they didn’t, they
knew full well they’d think, How dare you refuse Lord Ainz’s orders!
Everyone here was struggling to decide how the elves should
respond.
He had no intention of scolding the eavesdropping maids. They
weren’t listening out of spite or mere curiosity—he realized that
much. They were possessed of a cryptic intensity, competing to be
the first to step in if any opportunity to be useful presented itself.
“…Ah, a shame. But tell me, what is the elf country like? How do
you protect yourselves from monsters that deep in the forest?”
They looked taken aback by the question.
“We dwell within the forest, but we live up in the trees. It’s too
dangerous to linger at ground level.”
“The druids’ magic transforms the trees into homes.”
“And trees designed for that are also grown with magic. We call
them the elf trees.”

To hear them tell it, elven druids had spells that could alter the
shapes of the trees at will. They could open hollows within the trunks
or form simple suspension bridges across the space between the
trees themselves. It was common practice to link dozens of these elf
trees together, rising above the forest ground.
These clusters were elven villages.
Transforming these elf trees to make things was the heart of
elven culture; it wasn’t just houses and furniture—they made
weapons and armor from them, too. They could even harden the
wood like iron, making arrows for their hunts.
As far as Ainz knew, no such magic had existed in Yggdrasil, and
when he asked them to demonstrate, they seemed rather surprised.
They’d believed the tree Aura and Mare lived in was made the same
way. It looked nothing like the elf trees, but they’d assumed it must
be a variant of some sort, a special breed only the twins could
manipulate.
And their magic worked only on elf trees—it did nothing to any
other kind of tree.
Given the nature of their homes, their main predators were
snakes, spiders, and other monsters that had a knack for climbing.
They did have guards posted at all hours, but their natural enemies
tended to be rather stealthy and claimed their share of victims. On
the other hand, less talented climbers were easily repelled and not
considered major threats.
The elf capital—the total elf population was not considerable, so
this was the only city worthy of the name—was apparently the only
settlement located outside the forest, on the plains by a lake shaped
like a crescent moon. Apparently because the three elves lived in a
village that was quite far from the capital, and they knew of it only
from stories.
Why was the capital outside the forest? Well, supposedly there
were massive aquatic monsters living in the lake, and fear of being
consumed by those creatures kept other threats at bay.

This all made sense to Ainz.

Druid magic could easily create water, so life in the treetops
would be comfortable enough. The branches atop the elf trees would
provide adequate defense against flying monsters and help keep the
elves hidden.
Growing up in that environment, it made sense that most elves
learned ranger or druid skills. Without those, they would struggle to
eke out much of a living.
There’s still a lot we don’t know about skill acquisition and how
the people here gain classes. But with few farmers, the elves likely
have more combat-ready citizens than human countries do.
He asked more about their life spans and population.
Their own mortality seemed to be of little interest to them; they
had never wondered how long they might live. But the eldest elves in
their village were believed to be well over three hundred. None of the
three here was sure exactly how old they were. They had no custom
of marking their birthdays.
But perhaps because they were guaranteed long lives, there
weren’t that many elves. They certainly didn’t pop out kids as often
as humans. But from what they said, Ainz believed they actually had
a fairly high birth rate.
Yggdrasil elves were said to live a thousand years. They grew
rapidly over the first ten years and only started looking old in the last
ten, I think? My memory there is fuzzy; I could be wrong. But I swear
they had maybe one child every decade and weren’t considered fully
grown until two hundred. If they were fertile until four hundred, that
would be…twenty children each? This information might come in
handy. I’ll have to discuss this further with someone more informed.
“Were we to return you to your village, where would we go?”
They looked at one another.
Ah. I might be pushing my luck. That must be considered critical
info.
After a long silence, one of them tentatively asked, “Er, um…are
we being sent home?”
“Mm?” That was an odd turn of phrase, Ainz thought. Then he
realized his own error. “Oh, right. Your village was attacked by the
humans.”
These three weren’t exactly warriors; the village they’d lived in
had been raided by the Theocracy, and they’d been taken captive.
Being sent back to that village now would only lead to suffering and
could hardly be considered safe.
“Well, then not that village. Somewhere you can live in peace. Do
you have anywhere in mind? Relatives living in other villages? Or
perhaps the capital itself?”
“The…capital…”
“Sorry, we only know the area around our old home.”
“We have no idea what would be safe.”
They didn’t know much about the outside world. And this was
hardly unique to them. Citizens in the Kingdom and Empire had been
much the same.
People in this world usually died where they were born. Unless
given a proper education, at best they might know the nearest city,
but anything farther out might as well be a different country entirely.
As he thought about that, the elves asked, “Um, so we will have
to leave this place?”
“That was the plan. If we’re opening ties with the elf country,
keeping you here might damage our reputation. Does that make
sense? Until now, we’ve kept you here due to a lack of options, but
that excuse no longer applies if we establish formal relations. But
just dropping you into the middle of a war zone would be heartless.
That’s why I was asking about safe areas…”
Ainz did not intend to head the diplomatic mission permanently,
but returning these three safely might earn some political points in
the future.
Sensing they had something to say, he asked, “What?”
“Is there no way for us to stay here?”
“………………Hmm.”
His eyes dropped to the drinks in front of them. Had those—? No,
that couldn’t be the reason.
“…Why?” he asked. “If you don’t wish to explain, I won’t press the
point, but I’m curious.”
“Um…”
The leader of the trio glanced at Aura and Mare.
“……Aura, Mare, we’re running low on refreshments. Care to get
us some more?”
“Huh?”
“Sure thing! Coming right up, Lord Ainz. C’mon, Mare.”
Splendid.
Ainz was extremely impressed with Aura’s ability to take a hint.
Had he been in her shoes, it likely would have taken him far
longer to realize he was being asked to step away for a moment. Or
would his experiences in the office have clued him in?
Aura might actually be better at picking up on these social cues
than Albedo and Demiurge. He could just see Demiurge grinning
faintly and going, Is that what this is, Lord Ainz?
They both tend to grossly misread what I intend. I sometimes
wonder if they do it on purpose. Are they doing it on purpose?
“Er, h-huh?” Mare stammered, totally lost. Aura was on her feet
and pulling his arm, dragging him away.
Once they were safely removed, he asked, “Now can you
answer?”
“Y-yes.”
One eye measuring the distance to the twins, the elves spoke
softly. Dark elves had better hearing than humans, and if they were
masters of the ranger class like Aura, their ears were even better.
These elves lowered their voices, fully aware of that, but it was still
highly likely Aura could hear every word.
“Once we got used to life here, it felt hard to go back to our old
lives. Lady Aura and Lord Mare’s home is…wonderful.”
“Oh?”
He’d intended to keep his voice low to match theirs, but the
surprise got the better of him.
At first, he mistook it for a joke—but they were all nodding intently.
They were in full agreement and meant every word.
First, the food was far better, they explained. The elves had
grown up on fruit, meat, and vegetables, mostly fried or boiled. No
one had really put more effort into it.
Now that they were used to Nazarick cuisine, they were not at all
certain they could go back to such simple fare. Their favorite food
was now pizza.
Ah. Food as an instrument of diplomacy. You can eat like this
every day might be a surprisingly effective tactic. Like with the
dwarves!
That wasn’t all they had to say.
It was much safer here. The villages made with magic were high
up and relatively safe, but there was still not a year that passed
without someone being killed by monsters. In Nazarick, they could
sleep soundly at night without anyone needing to keep watch.
Ainz had thoughts on that, but none of this sounded like anything
they couldn’t have admitted with Aura and Mare here. There must be
more to it. As soon as that thought crossed his mind, one elf said,
“And serving the two of them is pure bliss.”
“Oh.”
Ainz nodded. It all added up.
The twins were fellow elves, children, and cute. Perhaps some
would hesitate to serve a child, but Aura’s and Mare’s charm had
presumably won out.
If someone asked Ainz which of the floor guardians he’d most like
to serve, he’d have picked the twins, too. Well, if someone actually
asked him that question, he’d diplomatically say, All my guardians
are magnificent. I couldn’t possibly choose. But deep down, it had to
be Aura and Mare. Maybe Cocytus in third. He didn’t really want to
serve the others.
But this still didn’t seem like anything they couldn’t have said with
them present. He thought there must be more to it, but the elves
seemed to have run out of reasons.
I don’t really get it. Why not just say this with them here? Did they
think they’d be scolded for proposing this? No matter.
“Very well. Then you may continue working in Nazarick.”
Refusing their wishes seemed unnecessary.
All three elves looked delighted. It didn’t appear as if their flattery
was a performance.
“If we’re formally employing you, we’ll have to discuss wages and
benefits in detail. I’ll have someone handle that later.”
It didn’t seem like they understood what that meant, but he
deemed this essential.
Once Nazarick established friendly ties with the elf country’s dark
elves, the treatment of these three could make all the difference. He
had freed them from slavery and could argue their labor up until this
point was fair recompense for looking after them all this time. But
that only went so far. Working without compensation could hardly be
considered fair labor practice. He didn’t want to give any potential
visiting dark elves a poor impression of Nazarick’s employment
standards.
And these three were an ideal opportunity to establish a
precedent for giving Nazarick employees excellent compensation
and world-class benefits.
Ainz glanced at the maids around them.
After the elves lowered their voices, their neighbors could no
longer overhear the conversation. The maids were pretending to rest
their heads on their hands but were actually cupping their ears,
trying to catch anything being said.
Extremely transparent.
It spoke to their dedication, and Ainz couldn’t bring himself to
chide them for it. But he did wish they’d hide it a little better.
We’ll have to get these elves under contract quickly. I wonder if
we can extend their benefits package to the regular maids while
we’re at it?
Maybe, but if he forced the matter and ignored the maids’ desire
to work harder, it might just earn their ire. Also, if they viewed the
elves as the root cause of their increased time off, they might turn
their displeasure on them. He doubted they’d form an angry mob or
anything, but if he was serious about including the maids on those
same standards, he’d have to be careful about his approach.
“…The status of your employment and residence aside, I would
appreciate your assistance with the elf country. If possible, I’d like
you to serve as guides. Naturally, Aura and Mare will be
accompanying us. But we know little about elf etiquette, so I thought
it might help to have you as intermediaries.”
They looked at one another and shook their heads.
“Sorry, we don’t think we’d be much use as guides. And…we’ve
been to the next village over, but that doesn’t mean we learned any
etiquette.”
“Oh…”
“Sorry!”
“No need to bow your heads.”
Venturing into uncharted territory without a guide was far more
difficult, but it was unclear if these elves would actually be of any
use. If they’d wind up improvising anyway, then there was no need to
force them to come along. And there was a high chance they’d wind
up slowing them down.
Ainz turned and beckoned to Lumièlle. When she leaned in, he
said, “A little more,” and lifted his cup. Naturally, it was as full as it
had ever been. Just to be very clear, he glanced toward the twins.
He thought this might be a bit cryptic, but she understood right
away and said, “Pardon me.” She left the table.
“So—to elves like you, what are dark elves?”
“Wonderful people.”
An instant response, all speaking on top of one another. Ainz
frowned.
If they were held in high regard, that was pleasing, but he felt this
answer was motivated by something else.
 And he soon realized what.
Aura and Mare.
“No, I’m asking how the elven race regards the dark elf race.”
“They’re wonderful people.”
“That’s not—”
He wasn’t getting anywhere. With everything the twins had done
for them, they could hardly answer, They’re an inferior species, or
anything along those lines. It would be alarming if they did.
“Like I said earlier, I’m planning on establishing diplomatic ties
with the elf country. And those two will likely be in charge of that
effort. That’s why I need to know how a typical elf would respond to
the sight of a dark elf. If dark elves are normally looked down upon in
elven society, making those two our envoys might not be the wisest
decision. For that reason, I’d like to know the unvarnished truth.”
They looked at one another.
“Honestly, there were no dark elves in our village, so we never
met any until we came here. We had no real opinions on them. At
best, I’d once heard a group of dark elves had come wandering into
the northern reaches of the country.”
“The stories were all secondhand, so I mostly thought, Oh, they
really do have brown skin.”
“I never heard anyone in the village say anything bad about the
dark elves, but…I can only speak for our village.”
This did not seem like they were only saying what he wanted to
hear or distorting the truth. It seemed like young—if that was the
right expression—elves did not have any prejudices against dark
elves.
They might be a minority, but odds were high dark elves were not
a persecuted one. Perhaps this was because the elves had a clear
exterior enemy—the Theocracy—and had no time to waste on
internal conflict. Or perhaps life in the forest was simply that harsh.
“…And undead?”
“Corruptors of the forest.”
“Foul beings.”
“But we’ve almost never seen any.”
“Mm, I figured.”
 No hesitation there.
He was Aura and Mare’s boss but got no respect. Of course, he
kept that thought to himself. He had asked for the whole truth and
nothing but the truth… He just hadn’t expected it to be this
unvarnished. These girls might be the type who take it at face value
when the boss says speak freely and wind up transferred to a dead-
end post.
But this made it extra clear that Ainz absolutely could not serve as
the envoy. Perhaps that worked in his favor. He could argue that the
situation prevented him from taking the lead. Certainly better than
admitting he simply wasn’t up to the task.
Or should they take their time with it, following formal
procedures? Send a diplomat, slowly establish normal relations, et
cetera?
But we don’t have any diplomats. Not having anyone we can trust
on our human staff is a weakness. Although there’s always a chance
I’m simply unaware of them. Perhaps I could speak to Albedo,
suggest sending adventurers? No, we’re not yet at the point where
we could have them speak for the Nation. That’s my assumption, so
it could be wrong, but…
Maybe Albedo would say the adventurers would suffice.
But do we have that kind of time?
The elf country was fighting the Theocracy, and the incursion
seemed quite serious. Even before these elves had been captured,
things looked rather dire. The elf country might be on the verge of
complete collapse.
The collapse of the elf country was not necessarily bad for Ainz.
Extending a helping hand was more effective under those
circumstances. But that didn’t mean he should wait for it to happen.
He couldn’t afford to wait and see. Waiting meant that someone
who might become Aura’s or Mare’s friend could perish in the
meanwhile. Especially given that dark elves were a minority—their
lives were in short supply.
I could send the two of them ahead— Wait, no, I can’t do that.
Just the two of them in unknown territory is too risky. I know they’re
level-100 NPCs, not helpless children, but I’d like them to focus on
making friends and not worry themselves about the diplomatic angle.
In which case, I should probably accompany them.
At the moment, he had no intention of intervening in the
elf/Theocracy war or of saving the elf country. He didn’t want to be
the sole reason why the Nation of Darkness would suddenly be
thrust into open conflict with the Theocracy.
He would like to know Albedo’s and Demiurge’s thoughts on the
matter, but if he tried to pick their brains, they might discover that he
had absolutely nothing going on in his. Worse, if the conversation
went wrong, they might end up giving priority to his own dim-witted
opinions, leaving Nazarick worse off for it.
Perhaps I should go to the elf country and warn the dark elves to
evacuate their homes. In which case…I don’t really need to bring
anyone but the twins.
If he took anyone, it would not be an army but guards with high
stealth capabilities, like the Hanzos.
Just as he had on his trip to the dwarven realms.
“I see…,” he said, looking the elves over. They served the role the
lizardmen had.
“Wh-what?”
“Oh, nothing. Talking to myself.”
What if he did take one of them with him? Naturally, leaving the
other two here. Having hostages would ensure no one would
thoughtlessly act against him.
Not a bad plan.
Even if these girls realized that’s what they were, they could insist
that wasn’t the intent.
Ainz glanced at the twins—a signal they could come back. Aura,
Mare, and Lumièlle rejoined them at the table.
“Oh, what gifts would be good to bring your people? Gold and
silver? Jewels?”
“We use no metals in the village, so I don’t know if that…”
“Our village would have been happiest with food. Or medical
herbs that are hard to obtain. Minor injuries can be healed with
magic, but poison and illness require a highly skilled druid.
Medicines are precious.”
 “Clothes are also made from the elf trees using magic.”
“Those are your homes, your arrows, and your clothes…elven
druid spells can do almost anything. Mare, yours aren’t that versatile,
are they?”
“Mm? Oh, n-no. I don’t know that magic.”
These strange druid spells must be a product of elven evolution.
Ainz wanted to acquire those techniques if possible, but it was likely
no one in Nazarick could learn them. In which case, it was best to
bring the residents of this world under his control and have them all
bow to Nazarick. That could be decisive if they found themselves
facing another guild.
No…
We have to assume that’s already happened. That other guilds
have already arrived here. I’ll have to speak to Albedo about this and
rework our national strategy.
If Ainz had thought of it, then surely other players would have as
well. Only a fool assumed they were unique.
Perhaps opening a Gate in the elven village and ferrying in food
would be a good way to demonstrate that the Nation of Darkness
had friendly intent. He remembered that being effective with the
dwarves.
Recalling what had worked then might help him plan this
expedition.
At the time, I just wanted to turn tail and run…
“First, we’ll locate this moon-shaped lake, gather information in
the elf capital, and use that to reach the dark elf village.”
“We’re going there?” Aura said. She seemed like she had further
thoughts on the matter but didn’t want to be more specific in front of
these elves.
Ainz, meanwhile, couldn’t admit his goal was really to have them
make friends. He didn’t want that to become an order. He pretended
not to notice her unspoken question.
“That’s the plan. And I’ll need your help.”
The twins nodded eagerly.
What next? Who do I have to convince? This won’t be as easy as
the dwarves.
 He wasn’t sure he could overcome the next obstacle. But he
would have to figure something out. This would form the basis for
implementing a paid-vacation system in Nazarick.
With perfect timing—perhaps they’d been waiting for a lull in the
conversation—the food arrived.
“Please dig in,” Ainz said, and the elves’ eyes gleamed. They
were clearly savoring every bite.
 3

How did one prepare to tackle an obstacle?

There were any number of means, often tailored to the specific
obstacle in question, but in this case, Ainz opted for numbers and
territorial advantage.
He had Aura and Mare stand on either side of the throne in the
reception room the guardians had made for him. For the first time in
a while, he was holding the real Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown.
The goal was to present himself as the absolute ruler of Nazarick,
the guild master.
But despite these preparations, he might still fail to defeat his
adversary. She was the last boss. Worse than the Devourer of the
Nine Worlds.
An urge to swallow spit he didn’t have struck him deeply.
He’d rehearsed this countless times in his head. Imagining how
she would react and concocting flawless answers. Yet—Ainz was but
a man. His thoughts could not even reach the realms she walked in.
In other words—
I just have to get lucky!
He was pinning his hopes on his ad-libbing skills and simply
hoping that his future self would make this work.
Lumièlle was on standby at the door, and she indicated the
greatest obstacle had finally arrived.
“Show her in.”
“Certainly, Lord Ainz.”
She needed no introduction.
It was none other than the captain of the floor guardians herself—
Albedo.
When she saw Ainz, her smile vanished, and her demeanor grew
grave.
“I apologize for keeping you waiting,” she intoned, bowing low.
“Raise your head,” he said. “Do not concern yourself with that,
Albedo. I was informed your arrival would be delayed, so you are
simply on time.”
When he’d sent Albedo a Message, she’d been busy in the Ice
Prison and not dressed for an audience with him. She’d requested
time to make herself presentable.
Ainz saw no reason to refuse this and had set the meeting for a
full thirty minutes after the time she’d requested, ordering her to
meet him here. Albedo had appeared ten minutes before the
appointed hour. Was it her personality, or was it the iron rule of
business dealings?
Albedo raised her head and took a knee before the throne.
He got right to the point.
“Albedo, I am taking a paid vacation.”
He could make any number of excuses for this. But when he’d
done that in the past, it had only led the conversation astray. In
which case, it was best to state his goal plainly. And Demiurge
wasn’t here. Less chance of things getting wildly out of hand.
Albedo looked up at him, her brows briefly twitching. Her eyes
glanced left and right, observing Aura’s and Mare’s reactions.
Ainz braced himself for her response.
“Nazarick included, everything in the Nation of Darkness belongs
to you, Lord Ainz,” Albedo said, deadly serious.
Hng?
He didn’t have any idea what she was implying.
No clue whatsoever.
Why on earth would she say that?
What leap in logic, what thought process, what conclusions had
led her to these words?
More importantly, how should he respond to them?
Two answers sprang to mind.
First: The hell you say? Second: That’s right!
Naturally, he intended to make both of these sound more regal.
Ainz fired up his hypothetical synapses, trying to burn out the
circuits. Time was of the essence. Albedo had put the ball in his
court, and he had to return it soon.
“…You may have misunderstood me, Albedo. That is not my
point.”
An honest response. Had pretending to understand ever worked
in his favor?
Oh yes, once.
As a result, he was revered as the absolute ruler of Nazarick,
Ainz Ooal Gown.
At the cost of Satoru Suzuki’s heart.
A light bulb went off.
“I—I beg your pardon, Lord Ainz.”
She bowed her head.
“I am not angry. There is no need to bow.”
Only complete scumbags would enjoy forcing innocent people to
lower their heads.
“The phrase I used seems to have misled you.”
Nazarick had neither a payroll system nor a formal process for
taking time off. It gave employees no rights at all. So the phrase paid
vacation must have sounded like some sort of metaphor. The blame
here lay on Ainz’s failure to implement systems benefiting his
workers. Naturally, part of Ainz insisted he had allowed this situation
to continue only because the NPCs themselves had stood in his way,
desiring nothing but constant labor.
Based on Satoru Suzuki’s own experiences, no matter how bad
the working conditions were, they could be tolerated as long as the
people you worked with were pleasant. Meanwhile, even under ideal
conditions, if you couldn’t stand your coworkers, you wouldn’t last
long.
In that sense, Nazarick denizens were all fabulous, and perhaps
that was what kept things running smoothly.
“My mistake. Forgive me.”
Ainz bowed his head.
“L-Lord Ainz! Please raise your head!” Albedo protested. He did.
“Now that we have both bowed our heads, I hope all is forgiven.”
“There was nothing to—”
“If I cannot bow my head to you, then we are done for. That would
no longer be me.”
Albedo gasped, eyes going wide, then bowed low once more.
 He caught movement on either side of him as well. Perhaps they
were surprised by Albedo’s reaction.
Before he could ask what this was for, Albedo looked up.
“By paid vacation, you mean you plan to take those two
somewhere?”
That was more like it.
Leaping from those words to travel plans was downright terrifying.
If Ainz had been in Albedo’s position, he would have asked, If the
twins are with you, will you be relaxing on the sixth floor?
“I plan to take them to the elf country supposedly located south of
here.”
“The elf country…” Albedo thought about this a moment, then
said, “I see.”
He wasn’t sure what she thought she saw.
Perhaps she had been considering a diplomatic mission herself.
He would have to be sure.
“…Let’s not leap to conclusions. I am not intending to conduct any
diplomacy. Just taking a look around.”
“Understood.”
That was easy. He’d expected her to have more to say.
That was actually alarming in its own way. It felt like there was a
perception gap occurring, and that could have fatal consequences.
“…So I shall be taking a paid vacation and using it to tour the elf
country with the twins. If anything urgent comes up, I will be
available via Message and can come right back. Nothing else is
going on here. I have no further plans. I mean that. You have my
word.”
“Understood. Will you be leaving right away?”
“Uh, yes, in fact.” He hadn’t actually gotten that far, but given the
Theocracy’s invasion, sooner was better. “That is the plan, but Aura
and Mare will need to prepare.”
“It should not take them long. Lord Ainz. If you wish to leave now,
it is their duty to be ready on the spot.”
This didn’t sound like a good thing to him, but the twins were both
nodding.
“Hmm.”
 If they said they were ready, perhaps he shouldn’t argue the
point. Still…
“One thing I’d like to verify. Not just with Albedo but with you two
as well, Aura and Mare. Answer me this. The Great Tomb of
Nazarick has founded the Nation of Darkness. The Empire has
become a vassal state, the subhumans in the wilderness have come
under our rule, and just recently we annihilated the Re-Estize
Kingdom. Our domains have expanded, as has the size of our
bureaucracy. And this leaves me concerned. Have we trained the
personnel adequately to compensate for that growth?”
Would a few people taking a vacation cause a work stoppage?
Aura and Mare were in leadership roles. They were for all intents
and purposes critical staff. Rank-and-file workers might easily fill in
for one another, but the top positions were not so easily subbed out.
And yet—if them taking time off was all it took to grind things to a
halt, they were in real trouble as an organization.
That would require he put the kibosh on this plan, or at least
make some alterations.
“That is my concern here. If we are lacking, then we must take
drastic measures to correct it.”
“I do not believe there will be an issue. If anything does come up,
Demiurge and myself are here. If Pandora’s Actor is available to
assist us, no problem is insurmountable.”
“I see. That’s excellent news, Albedo. You addressed my
concerns before I raised them up. That is why you are Nazarick’s
brightest mind and captain of the guardians. Work befitting that title.
Most magnificent. I am suitably impressed.”
It was every bit of praise he could muster.
Unlike Ainz, she was properly tending their operations. How could
he not shower her in praise?”
“I thank you,” she said, bowing low. But when she stood up, her
cheeks looked rather stiff.
Another question had suddenly occurred to him, so he asked,
“This time I will be bringing Aura and Mare, but would our operations
suffer if you or Demiurge took a vacation?”
That made her hesitate.
 “I have faith that in our absence, the others would step up to fill
the gaps, working at the level you have come to expect, Lord Ainz.”
“Hmm. Albedo—faith is not enough. What I ask is whether we
know for certain it can be done. I realize this is difficult, perhaps
painful, for you to voice doubts about the capabilities of the floor
guardians, about your own colleagues. But I asked that you
determine if they are truly up to the task after taking emotion out of
the equation, leaving only the truth behind. If they are not capable,
then when time allows for it, we must train them to compensate for
their shortcomings and take whatever time is necessary to ensure
the stability of our operations. Albedo—I’m sure these concerns have
long since crossed your mind—”
“Er, um, Lord Ainz…I hate to interrupt. Um, sorry.”
“What is it, Mare?”
“Well, um. S-sorry again. I really don’t know if I can do amazing
things like Albedo does.”
There was a brief silence; then Albedo’s voice echoed through
the room.
“Is that all?”
What?
Ainz saw nothing in Mare’s statement that would draw Albedo’s
wrath. To his mind, this had simply been a confirmation of fact.
“Er, uh…yes?”
“Mare!”
Albedo’s voice cracked like a whip, and his shoulders quivered.
Her face twisted, her fury palpable.
Before Ainz could stop her, she spat, “You are a floor guardian,
yet you cannot do the work a Supreme Being requires?!”
“Albedo! It is nothing to shout about. What is wrong with admitting
to what one cannot do? Claiming one can do what they cannot—that
is a far graver problem.”
“If I may be so bold!”
Her voice was still raised, despite his warning. But it was no
longer directed at Mare, so Ainz allowed it.
“It is not the accurate assessment of his current capabilities I am
objecting to. My concern is that he offered no suggestions on how he
could acquire the skills he is lacking! If a Supreme Being wants a job
done, no floor guardian is allowed to shrug, say they can’t, and
consider the matter settled.”
Urgh. She had a point.
He couldn’t find anything wrong with her argument. From that
perspective, Mare’s statement was a failure.
“Lord Ainz, I believe Albedo’s position is correct. Mare should
retract his statement.”
Aura’s voice was awfully cold. With his own sister turned against
him, Mare let out a series of whimpers.
“As a floor guardian—”
“Enough!”
His roar stopped Albedo from further reprimands. Naturally, this
was a performance, and he was not actually angry with her. His
emotions required no artificial suppression.
As he yelled, he switched on an aura. This was just a visual
effect, used to forcibly draw attention, not to inflict any debuffs.
Naturally Albedo, Aura, Mare, and even Lumièlle were all carrying
psychic nullification items; he was well aware it would have no
negative impact on them.
He wasn’t sure what Albedo had planned to say next. Perhaps
she had meant to gently guide Mare to the right answer. But if there
was any chance of developing a lasting rift between them, Ainz had
to step in.
“…Mare, what Albedo said does make sense. If you believe you
can’t do something, offering a solution is always a good idea.”
“I-I’m sorry.”
“That said, Albedo, if a subordinate thinks they’re not up to a task
but are assigned to it anyway, is that not a problem with
management?”
“…It could very well be.”
“I believe there were failings on both sides here. Albedo, I do
appreciate your dedication. But everyone makes mistakes. To
ensure that mistakes are not repeated—or worse, covered up—a
first offense should be gently admonished.”
Fact of the matter was, Albedo possessed an excess of both
loyalty and ability, and that combination made her very strict with
everyone else. Ainz generally rejected these proposals, so nothing
too dire had come of it. But if he relinquished all authority to her,
there was a very real possibility it would culminate in a purge.
No, I’m probably worrying about nothing. Still…
“Yes, Lord Ainz. I may have lost my temper there. Forgive me,
Mare.”
“Er, uh, oh, no, I think what you said was right, Albedo. I was in
the wrong. I apologize.”
Both bowed—Mare went down a full ninety degrees—and the
matter appeared settled.
“…So where was I? Oh, right. I’ll be taking you two on a paid
vacation to the elf country, so while we’re away, make sure your work
is covered. Let’s say…finish up and transfer your work over the next
three days. If possible, rather than pass it to another floor guardian,
have your own subordinates handle things. If that proves too
demanding…”
They had only just felled the Re-Estize Kingdom, so Albedo had
far too much on her plate.
“…Then consult with Pandora’s Actor. Am I clear?”
“Yes, sir!” they both said.
“Who will be your retinue?” Albedo asked. “The Hanzos?”
Not a bad idea. The Hanzos had proven astonishingly useful.
Honestly, if they had the money and data to spare, he’d gladly
summon more.
They’d used up all the Hanzo data, but the library still had data on
other ninja monsters. They could make use of that, but—
But I don’t want to use too much of what we have stored in the
Treasury, and I’ll have to hold off until my gold reserves recover. Or
should strengthening Nazarick be our top priority? I’ll think about it
on the way to the elf country. Ugh, I need more money! Enough that I
don’t have to watch the bottom line. Is there anyone out there sitting
on a vast store of gold? Someone who can’t complain if we just
swipe it from them…?
“…Lord Ainz?”
“Mm? Oh, my apologies. I got lost in thought there. My retinue…”
 He was about to say the Hanzos would be fine but then stopped
himself. Good businessmen knew when to take a hint, but he had
never really been anything more than average. The dice had simply
rolled in his favor here, and his instincts told him not to accept that
suggestion.
There’d been a hint of something off in Albedo’s tone of voice, in
the corner of her eye.
“…I wasn’t planning on taking the Hanzos. Did you need them for
something?”
“Oh, no. If you’re not taking them, far be it from me to object to
your decisions…” She hedged her words for a moment, trying to
gauge his response. “They say the Hanzos have your favor, Lord
Ainz. There are all manner of denizens who wish to serve you, and I
thought this might be an excellent opportunity to grant others a turn.”
When she saw him thinking this over, she hastily summed it up.
“Just bear in mind that there are others eager for a shot at
impressing you.”
He nodded sagely, but inside, he was clutching his head.
Ainz—or Satoru Suzuki—was but a humble man. It had never
even occurred to him that this might be a whole thing.
He did favor the Hanzos. But it would never do for other
subordinates to start resenting that.
Favoritism was a given in any company. It was only normal to
promote people you liked, even if their abilities were not quite all
there. But if this started souring coworker relationships, then it had to
be addressed.
He would have to fix this. Ainz had just been thinking that the staff
harmony was the only thing that made Nazarick’s working conditions
tolerable.
At the very least, he could not afford to bring the Hanzos this
time.
“I’ll decide who to bring later— No, send word around now.
Whoever I end up choosing, make it clear that they must be ready in
case I do.”
He grinned, but that mirth didn’t go beyond the surface.
“Brilliant suggestion, Lord Ainz,” Albedo said, bowing her head.
“I’ll immediately contact everyone within the Great Tomb of
Nazarick.”
“Mm, make it so.”
Ainz got to his feet and left the room, accompanied by Lumièlle
alone. Letting out a sigh like a businessman at the end of a long,
hard day.

When the door closed, Albedo straightened up. The twins had, too,
and their eyes met.
“Um, Albedo, can I ask you something?”
“What?”
Aura got to her feet. “Lord Ainz said we were going to the elf
country for a paid vacation…but what’s he actually after? It’s not just
to relax and have fun, right?”
“I hardly think so.”
“Oh? Th-then what?”
Ainz Ooal Gown was the absolute ruler of Nazarick, a brilliant
leader whose every action contained multitudes.
They had to assume he was up to at least three things at all
times.
Being king was far from a frivolous position. You didn’t just cast it
aside like one might throw off a winter coat. He might call it a
vacation, but even if they told other countries as much—to them, he
was still there as the king of the Nation of Darkness. His every
gesture would convey the will of his country. Even the dumbest man
would know that.
So this vacation to the elf country must mean something else,
must disguise another purpose.
“So what is Lord Ainz’s real goal?”
“Like he said, I suspect the organizational reforms are a part of it,
but the information he’ll be gathering will be far more critical,” Albedo
said. “Demiurge would be able to expand on this more than I can,
but…we can assume that the Theocracy is waging an extensive
campaign against the elf country right now.”
“Th-the Theocracy?”
Everyone in Nazarick had been briefed on them by now. They
could omit the basics in casual conversation.
“Yes. They view us as a potential enemy, and with us preoccupied
with the conquered kingdom, they’ll be in a rush to wrap up their
ongoing war with the elves.”
“Because they don’t want to be in two wars at once?”
“Exactly. The Nation of Darkness and the Theocracy are not yet
overtly hostile to each other, but they won’t want their forces split
between their northern and southern borders. Odds are very high
that they’ll commit to a large-scale engagement to decisively end
their conflict with the elves. Reconciliation is likely off the table, but—
well, there’s always a possibility.”
Albedo didn’t care if the Theocracy wiped out the elves or not. If
they enslaved the elves, the Nation could use that as a casus belli
and claim they were attacking to liberate them. It was yet another
argument they could use in their case against the Theocracy. If
anything, that would be ideal. But it seemed their master had other
thoughts on the matter. And he was likely going to gather more
information to inform his next move.
Perhaps Demiurge would be able to say for sure.
Albedo had the advantage on domestic issues but ceded
expertise on military issues to him. She was ashamed to have
missed something she should have picked up on, but more than that,
she wondered why Demiurge had not acted himself.
Is he acting without telling us? If he secretly gathered information
on the elves and didn’t send it our way, he might be plotting
something. I doubt that, but…
Demiurge was often away from Nazarick, busying himself with
one project or another, and had much more autonomy than the other
guardians. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say the other
guardians were disinclined to fully exercise the autonomy they had.
The information Demiurge gleaned and actions he took were
reported to his master after the fact, in writing—in considerable
detail, which made going through them something of a chore. Thus,
Albedo was kept abreast of his operations. In theory, she was well
aware of everything he’d been up to, and this had not included
anything elf-adjacent.
Given Demiurge’s personality, he was unlikely to keep secrets. It
was much more likely he simply hadn’t gotten around to the elves
yet.
But given her own actions, Albedo couldn’t rule it out entirely.
Perhaps she could go see Demiurge the moment she left—or
summon him to her. This was not a topic to broach in his domain.
But if they spoke with her minions around, Demiurge might figure out
what she was after.
But if he brings his demons with him— No, would he do
something so drastic? Does he suspect me? I haven’t made my
move yet, so—
“A-are we going to fight the Theocracy?”
“Mm? Oh, possibly. I couldn’t begin to predict that far ahead.
Perhaps Lord Ainz is uncertain himself, which is why he’s insisting
on calling it a vacation.”
Mare’s question pulled Albedo from her reverie. She’d been deep
in thought, but neither seemed to think that odd. For the moment,
she put Demiurge out of her mind.
Her master might think he was acting not as the ruler of Nazarick
but as an undead on holiday. Perhaps hoping that if something went
wrong, Nazarick would not suffer for it.
“Maybe there are elements in play even Lord Ainz himself cannot
decipher. And for that reason, he’s decided to detach himself from
Nazarick for the time being.”
“No way!”
“Whaaat? L-Lord Ainz doesn’t know something?”
They looked extremely surprised and more than a little dubious.
Their master’s ingenuity predicted all things and controlled their
every outcome. They’d seen innocuous-seeming gestures pay huge
dividends any number of times. As far as they could tell, he was
acting with an eye on the future a thousand years from now.
Even suggesting that he might err— Well, it was only natural
they’d think Albedo must be wrong.
 “So you can’t figure out what he’s up to, either?” Aura said,
folding her arms behind her head.
Albedo winced at that. “Even I cannot plumb Lord Ainz’s deepest
thoughts. That much has long been clear to me. Honestly, I have no
idea what motivated him to use the phrase paid vacation. But bear in
mind that going to the elf country may well lead to conflict with the
Theocracy.”
Both twins nodded gravely.
“Er, um, should we not bring our own underlings?”
“Other than anyone Lord Ainz personally picks, you mean?”
Albedo considered this. Part of her agreed bringing anyone not
personally selected would be acting out of turn. But there was also a
chance he’d be delighted they’d acted of their own volition.
“If Lord Ainz desires a small, select unit… No, wait.” Albedo
thought harder. “Each of you select two security details, one for a
small team and one for a larger expedition. I’ll speak to Demiurge
about Lord Ainz’s likely purpose and follow up with you afterward.”
Lord Ainz seemed very concerned about loss of organizational
efficiency within Nazarick. Is that related to his reasoning here?
When she’d attempted to reassure him, he’d responded with
sarcastic-sounding praise. Albedo had likely not understood his
concern and failed to secure his trust.
He was very worried…
They had added a mind as brilliant as Albedo and Demiurge, but
was that not enough? Or—?
When the twins nodded, Albedo concluded, “Aura, Mare, who
Lord Ainz chooses may give us a hint as to his purpose here. I
suspect this will be your toughest assignment yet. Be prepared for
anything, never let your guards down, and keep your wits about
you.”
The twins responded with enthusiasm.
Given their combat abilities, she felt certain they could keep their
master safe—but caution never hurt.
She would have to speak to Demiurge and be ready to bring the
combined might of Nazarick to bear if the situation called for it.
Even if that delays our search for the kingdom’s survivors, it’s
better to be prepared.
Prioritizing the tasks ahead in her mind, she and the other two
guardians left the room.
Chapter 2 | Sightseeing, Nazarick-Style
 1

The elf country lay in the Eivasha Woodlands. This forest had no
particularly perilous reaches; there were certain sections filled with
many dangerous monsters, or small subhuman settlements, and the
terrain itself made it easy to get lost. Yet, there were no buildings
worth calling fortresses or landforms too steep for humans to pass. If
progress was halted, there was only one cause.
Someone had stopped them.

Schuen, subleader of the Firestorm Scripture, was hiding behind

the scattered forest trees, peering at the view ahead.
There sat an elf child. She looked to be all of eight, but elves were
generally smaller than humans, which made them seem younger.
There was a little chair placed on a mound of dirt, and she was
perched on that, holding a bow that dwarfed her tiny frame. A quiver
sat behind the chair, the shafts of several arrows visible within.
The quiver was not that large, and he could count the arrows
within on the fingers of both hands. But reports indicated no matter
how many arrows she unleashed, the quiver never ran empty.
Clearly a magic item.
There was no one else around.
This girl was all by herself.
A lone child.
And that was terrifying.
A single hero could turn the tide of war. They were as valuable as
ten thousand men. This girl had already robbed nearly a thousand
Theocracy soldiers of their lives.
The result was that forty thousand troops were pinned down by a
single little girl.
Standard strategy dictated that if you couldn’t break through the
enemy’s forces, you should go around. There was no pressing need
to use this path, and while the forest itself was a constant
impediment, there were few places that could not be circumvented.
Sadly, they were not up against forces but a single foe. When the
enemy acted as a group, it was easy to detect their movements. But
this girl was not only a deadly shot, she was nimble as anything they
had ever seen, and if they lost sight of her, it would be extremely
difficult to locate her again. A one-girl army, undetectable in the
darkness of the vast forest—that meant endless guerrilla attacks and
the collapse of morale among the frontline troops.
They could split the troops, dedicating some to keeping her busy
while the main force pushed ahead. Not the worst idea, if you
ignored the utter stupidity of splitting your forces deep in enemy
territory.
Arguably, they had a golden opportunity before them, since the
enemy camp—if a chair qualified as a camp—was in plain sight. The
army’s leaders had decided it was worth some small sacrifices to try
and eliminate her while they knew where she was.
Fight heroes with heroes. This was hardly a problem that could be
solved by quantity alone.
But the Theocracy forces here did not have any heroes in tow.
Instead, they had the Firestorm Scripture.
They didn’t have a hero in their ranks, either—they had once, but
he’d transferred to the Black Scripture. That group generally
snapped up any Theocracy citizens who’d stepped into the domain
of the heroes.
Schuen, sadly, had not reached that level.
And yet, the Firestorm Scripture had been sent here, in the hopes
that their members working together could fell the hero.
This was true enough.
Schuen’s team made hero-slaying possible.
But there was a big difference between someone who’d just
arrived in that realm and someone about to burst out the other side.
They had a shot at besting the former and none against the latter.
That was why Schuen was making careful observations.
In his time, he’d seen everything from the rank and file, to good
soldiers, elite warriors, heroes, and those who lay beyond. He had
the experience to back his knowledge. He had to take the measure
of this elf girl and minimize the casualties to his unit. They may not
be in the Black Scripture’s league, but the members of the Firestorm
Scripture were still the best of the best—as was everyone in any of
the six scriptures. Their lives were too valuable to waste.
And depending on the outcome of this analysis, they had the
option of sacrificing more rank and file to pin her down while they
waited for the Black Scripture to arrive.
Schuen let out a long, quiet breath.
He was behind a tree, using both Invisibility and Silence.
(Ordinarily, arcane casters didn’t have access to Silence, but their
research had made it possible.) Even with both spells concealing
him, each breath he took further frayed his nerves.
He wanted to wipe the cold sweat from his brow, but when any
movement could mean death, he didn’t dare. Schuen was an
accomplished arcane caster, but his non-magical stealth abilities
were barely above those of an average human, and no effort could
be spared.
The elf girl was likely some sort of archer or ranger class. If the
latter, her senses would be extremely honed, and she might detect
him despite the spells. She might not work out exactly where he was,
but an area attack—they’d confirmed she had one—would easily
flush him out.
Even if she was a hero, it was unlikely that she could slay Schuen
in a single strike. Regardless, he was not confident he could get
away from her injured.
He was less scared of dying than he was of failing to bring home
the information he’d gleaned. That would make his death
meaningless.
Still, what a creepy kid.
Her expression had not changed since he started watching her.
Like a mask of gloom.
But Schuen knew all too well this was no doll. She still lived.
How long had he been watching?
His target moved at last.
Schuen’s heart leaped in his chest. His initial fear was that she
was aiming at him.
Her gaze darted elsewhere, but that was little comfort. A truly
skilled warrior could easily use their gaze to disguise their true
intention. Schuen knew of martial arts that did just that.
Then, hearing enhanced by the second-tier spell Elephant Ear, he
caught the sounds of multiple footsteps approaching from the rear.
The girl must have heard them first.
These were Theocracy soldiers—his comrades in arms.
Schuen felt a pang of guilt. He knew full well why they’d been
sent in.
He did not offer them a warning. That was not his role here.
He had one job—to not miss a single detail.
You could determine your target’s skills—their true strength level
—only when you saw them fight. Sacrifices were necessary.
Command had been true to their word and sent these soldiers in
service of a greater cause.
His countrymen would give their lives here. Careful his movement
did not give him away, he turned, the second-tier spell Hawk Eye
tracking the movement of her arrow.
She’d released a single shaft, and he watched it snake through
the trees—before it split in midair, becoming dozens.
The missiles rained down upon the earth.
She had not taken careful aim. Even if the sound alone had been
enough to locate her targets with any precision, this was a dense
forest. The trees blocked the way, and she could not shoot anyone
directly. If this was a spell like Fireball, it would simply burn through
all obstructions. Her approach had a similar effect—a skill to thread
the arrow through the trees and an art to multiply the projectiles once
through.
Schuen’s enhanced hearing picked up the sounds of soldiers
screaming. It did not sound as if any had escaped injury.
 Screams? They still live?
They were beyond his sight, but judging from the sounds, the
soldiers were confused and scared. None of them knew where the
arrows had come from, and they were scattering in all directions,
none willing to put up a fight.
This wasn’t a failure. It was the best possible choice of action.
The more directions they fled, the more of them were likely to
escape the killing zone.
The girl loosed another arrow.
Once more, it wove a path around all the trees, racing toward its
targets, and splitting in the air above them.
He heard the arrows raining down and the soldiers’ screams
cutting out. There were no more footsteps in the dirt.
Their deaths had given him a critical piece of intel.
Ordinary soldiers had taken two hits to kill. Certainly, skills—or
martial arts—that scattered an attack’s power typically lowered the
accuracy of each strike. But a hero would have been able to slay
rank-and-file soldiers with a single hit nonetheless. Which meant—
She’s no hero. This kid ain’t reached those heights yet.
Schuen was sure of it.
Years of training against his rival—now the Black Scripture’s Third
Seat, the Quad-Elementalist—had given him insight.
This target was weaker than Schuen himself. But that did not
mean he would win easily, nor could he afford to relax.
Archers and casters had different approaches to battle. Even if
one had the advantage in overall skill, circumstances could conspire
against that. And there was always a chance she knew she was
being watched and was intentionally disguising her true capabilities.
But he’d been observing enough to be confident.
She hadn’t spotted him.
His course was clear. She was a stone in the Theocracy’s path
and must be kicked aside.
He activated Silent Magic: Wall of Protection from Arrows.
That hardly counted as adequate preparation. But if he used any
more spells at this distance, she would likely sense it and turn to
flee.
 Time to strike.
“Silent Maximize Magic: Magic Arrow.”
Stepping out from behind the tree, he used an ability—the daily
exploit from the Arcane Devotee class, which was considered
required learning for any caster in the Firestorm Scripture. This
exploit allowed the use of magic buffs not yet acquired—in this case,
he naturally used Triplet Maximize Magic.
A total of twelve magic arrows shot forward.
These arrows were guaranteed to hit and could not be dodged.
But realistically speaking, they didn’t do much damage. Even
maximized, without major discrepancies in combat ability, this alone
would not be enough to kill her.
That is, if it was only him attacking.
All his subordinates were using See Invisibility to track Schuen’s
movements.
The girl’s mask slipped.
Was it because she couldn’t withstand the pain of his magical
attack? Or had she spotted the hundred magic arrows hurtling in
from behind him?
The Firestorm Scripture’s work ranged from assassination to
counterterrorism. They were required to be adaptable and always
moved in teams no less than four, composed of a variety of classes.
They were like the adventurer parties seen in the Kingdom or
Empire. The Adventurers Guild itself had been introduced into every
country by Theocracy agents, so it was practically a sister
organization. The party this time was formed entirely of one class
and exclusively of those who had acquired specific spells from it.
All of them were arcane casters who could use Invisibility.

Hit.
Hit.
Hit.
Hit.

It looked like she’d sprouted wings of light.

 She toppled over, facedown, and did not move again. Even then,
only Schuen dared approach.
There were illusion spells that could make you look dead. This girl
was an archer and was unlikely to know any, but you could never be
too careful.
He put a foot under her and flipped over the body.
The girl’s skin was covered in dark bruises from the magic-arrow
strikes; no part of her young body had been left unharmed. Schuen
took a close look at her face. The swelling of her lids left her eyes
half-open. There was no light left in them.
She was definitely dead.
“Hmph, that’s what you get, runt.”
They had not chosen Magic Arrow for retaliatory purposes. With
ranger-type foes, their nimble evasions could result in area-of-effect
spells doing no real damage. Spells with psychic effects could
instantly kill tough opponents—but if the target resisted, there would
be no effect at all. With their numbers, they’d had the option of going
for dealing guaranteed damage and had taken it.
But in hindsight, it was the perfect spell. Payback for all the
countrymen her arrows had slain.
Schuen frowned at the young elf’s death mask.
Unable to shake the impression that she looked…relieved.
Was it all in his head? He couldn’t say for sure. But if that was the
case, it rankled. This one girl had slaughtered a thousand Theocracy
soldiers. He would’ve preferred her death be one of agony, suffering,
and regret for the sins she had wrought.
He made to spit on her corpse but thought better of it at the last
second. He had to strip her of her gear. There were no other foes in
sight, so he planned to do that right here, but spitting on it first would
just be gross. He could spit on her once he’d finished looting the
body.
First, the bow.
A weapon carried by one strong enough to pin the entire
Theocracy army down single-handed. It was likely a masterpiece.
“Another failure.”
A man’s voice, nonchalant.
 Schuen froze, hand halfway toward the bow. Clearly the situation
called for urgent action, but he was caught off-guard and unable to
react in time. His eyes alone darted sideways—and found an elf.
No one had been there. He knew that for a fact. This girl had
been alone. He’d even used See Invisibility on his approach.
“Were you aware, human? The fastest means to true power is to
put your life on the line, fighting superior foes. I thought this one
might have been a rare success, so I tore her from her mother’s
arms and placed her here…” The man’s tone grew grim. He glared
scornfully down at the girl’s corpse. “Incompetent fool. The time I
spent on you, yet you’re worse than the other failures. Without the
royal aspect, they’re little better than refuse.”
Schuen knew who this elf was.
His eyes were different colors, and that made it all too clear.
The Theocracy’s ultimate goal.
The loathsome criminal.

The elf king.

A being beyond the pale, one no hero could defeat—let alone

Schuen.
He stood no chance.
Silent Magic: Invisibility.
Quickly casting, he tried to move.
But the elf king’s gaze followed. His eyes never left Schuen. He
had not moved far from where he’d turned invisible, yet the elf king’s
gaze was still on him.
The moment Schuen realized that, he turned his back and fled.
Even with Invisibility and Silence active, there was no hiding the
grass his footsteps bent. Even so, he ran.
The elf’s eyes had wavered slightly. He had not caught Schuen’s
location with spells like See Invisibility. His senses were just too
sharp—far sharper than any human could hope to match—for
Schuen’s concealment magic to matter. He had to get away, as far
as he could. If it wasn’t an ability blowing his cover, then distance
was his friend and the only thing that would prevent his detection.
If only Fly were an option. A bitter regret, but it was not in the
cards.
He was an Adept of Sulshana.
That class’s special ability could be used only once a day, but it
allowed you to keep spells with finite activation times in play
indefinitely—as long as your mana held out. The more spells kept
active, the faster your mana drained, and he simply didn’t have
enough to use Fly here.
And using Fly while otherwise defenseless, in range of the elf king
—that was pure madness. Schuen didn’t have it in him. He at least
had to gain distance, take cover behind some trees. Then maybe he
could consider it.
“Ha.”
He heard the elf king’s derisive laugh.
“There is literally no point in killing you, but—I did come all this
way. Might as well have something to show for it.”
Since Schuen was an arcane caster, physical exertion wasn’t his
strong suit. But his overall skill level was verging on the domain of
the heroes—his legs could cover quite a bit of ground in a short
sprint. As the gap between them yawned, his Elephant Ear
enhanced hearing caught the king’s next words.
“Go on, Behemoth. Kill!”
The earth shook. He didn’t need to look back—he knew
something massive had just spawned.
“Scatter!” Schuen roared, canceling Silence so his voice would
reach his squad.
Never in his life had he yelled this loud. He could only pray it
would at least make the elf king wince.
He had to get his team moving. No matter who went down, no
matter who they had to cut loose. The only way to honor the lives
lost here was to take home as much intel as they could.
Schuen was too close to the elf king. His fate was sealed. For that
reason—he turned around. Dying before his men did wasn’t such a
bad way to go.
He had seen earth elementals before. Smaller than humans but
thick, burly arms—they made for quite a quirky spectacle. But the
thing behind him was no such feeble little charmer.
Its bulk was made of rocks and boulders, piled on, towering as tall
as the surrounding trees. This was undoubtedly the king of earth
elementals.
Long, thick arms and short, stocky legs. On a smaller scale, the
proportions might be comical, but this thing radiated power far
beyond anything he’d ever sensed from a monster. Behind it, the elf
king crossed his arms, grinning as he watched Schuen struggle.
A galling sight indeed.
The arrogance of one seeking to claim the life of another, without
risking their own.
But Schuen’s rage was lost on him. The earth elemental—
Behemoth—closed the distance, legs unmoving, as if sliding on ice.
One unnaturally massive arm raised high.
“Come at me, you cur! Wall of Stone!”
At his cry, a rocky wall appeared between him and the elf king.
An instant later, a single hit pulverized it. The shattered stones
melted into the air.
The strength and durability of some wall spells were based on the
caster’s own power. Despite that—well, no, this result just proved the
elf king’s elemental was far stronger.
Behemoth raised its left fist.
Out of the corner of one eye, Schuen saw the elf king smirk and
knew what that meant—the man was convinced this next blow would
kill him.
He wasn’t wrong.
The swing would reach before he could get another spell off. He
would perish.
And yet—
I bought some time.
For a few seconds, he’d slowed this thing down. That was
enough.
Yes—
More than enough.
He had avoided the worst outcome—none of them making it
home alive. That outcome would be not just his loss but the
Theocracy’s.
“Ha-ha!”
Schuen laughed into the descending fist. Behemoth’s blow struck
home, and he became one with the soil.

The elf king—Decem Hougan—passed through the castle gates with

a sigh of disgust.
The source of his displeasure was the length of time the trip home
had taken.
He’d ridden on the back of Behemoth, a creature that knew no
fatigue—so that was likely the fastest transport available. But
knowing his time was being wasted took an intolerable toll on his
mind.
Recovering the gear he’d given that failure was not itself a waste.
He could be proud of that act. He’d inherited that gear from his
father, and no one alive could make anything of its like ever again. It
would not do to let it fall into the hands of humans—they would never
appreciate its true value.
The real problem—only he was up to the task.
This applied not only to recovering weapons. The lack of reliable
help meant that all manner of tasks were confounding him. The elves
around him were far too weak.
Not one of them was worth a damn.
The elven race was magnificent. Decem’s father had proved that
beyond all doubt. They were a race capable of being stronger than
any other living thing. If Decem had been a special breed—a high elf
or an elf lord, perhaps—then he would simply have assumed all
others were beneath him and been done with the matter. But this
was not the case. Decem and his father were ordinary elves. That
meant that any elf could become tremendously strong. So why did
the others remain so weak?
How could he prove elves were the ultimate species?
 He need simply produce results that were plain to see.
Place the world in the hands of elves, those who inherited his
blood.
To that end, he needed suitable—powerful—mothers.
Unfortunately, there was no way to tell which mothers were
suitable until the children they bore grew. To hasten their growth, he
had thrust them all into the bellows of war, and few, if any, had
returned.
All this time he’d spent and with nothing to show for it. His head
hurt.
These thoughts had left a scowl on his brow—yet a woman came
his way.
“Your Majesty.”
“What?”
His rage turned her way. Then his eyes widened, surprised.
Strong emotions—especially hostility—from one of his power
were a burden upon those weak in body and mind. Even a glance
their way was stunning. True, he had merely been angry, not actively
desiring her death. But even that would hit a weak elf hard. Yet, she
had withstood the impact, merely turning pale.
She was extremely weak—one of many failed mothers.
So how had she withstood his disfavor? Was he simply that
exhausted?
He could have brushed on by, but her feat was worth some small
reward.
Decem paused. He was a merciful king.
“What happened to her?”
Her? Who? After a hard day’s work, she should be praising his
labors, not offering incomprehensible questions. His interest in her
withered.
“Rugi, I mean.”
Rugi.
He had no memory of that name.
True, Decem never remembered anyone’s names. Few people
were valuable enough to remember.
In his opinion, it was a waste of memory to learn useless names
of those who possessed no value. He could not go so far as to say
memory was a limited resource, but there was no point in learning
anything noncritical. He had no idea why so many stuffed their minds
full of useless rubbish.
The woman’s eyes were on the bow he held.
“She died, didn’t she?”
That connected the dots. She meant the failure. He’d given her
this glorious bow, and the fool had died anyway. The thought that
she had carried half his blood made him feel deeply embarrassed.
No—perhaps it was because she had only half his blood that mere
humans had been able to kill her.
“Yes, she’d dead.”
“I—I see.”
Her voice quivered.
She must be ashamed to have been related to that failure. But it
was also true that the failure had been far stronger than this woman.
An even greater source of shame.
But it was a king’s duty to dole out opportunities.
How kind of him to show mercy to these fools. Decem impressed
himself anew.
“Come to my room. I’ll grant you another chance.”
He walked away without waiting for an answer. His priority was to
return this equipment to the treasury.
When that was done, he washed away the grime of the battlefield
and lay down in his bedroom.
As he waited, a man knocked at the door. “Excuse me, Your
Majesty.”
He glanced over the man’s shoulder, but the woman was not
there.
“…What?”
“Report for you, my king. You called Myugi in tonight, but she took
her own life.”
“She what?”
“She threw herself off the parapets.”
“And for such a minor fall to kill her—no, that would be enough for
you lot.”
 Decem considered this. He could not imagine why she would
want to die. He had just called her to his chambers. She should have
been delighted. Perhaps someone had been envious and killed her
for it.
“Are you sure it was suicide?”
“Quite sure, Your Majesty. There were witnesses.”
Decem considered blaming these witnesses, but if it was suicide,
what could be the cause? In time, he realized there was only one
possible explanation.
“I see; it all grows clear to me. She took her life by way of apology
—for the sin of bearing that defective child, I assume?”
“…Only she can know her feelings. But that may be the case,
Your Majesty.”
The man’s expression never changed.
“In that case, give the body a proper funeral. She made amends
with her life. It is my royal duty to accept.”
“Your generosity honors us all.”
The man bowed low. Decem took this deference in stride. It was
only proper to dispense the king’s mercy to those without value.
Feeling horribly merciful, he decided to grant the servant before
him—whose name he did not know—a boon.
“Do you have a daughter?”
“………Yes……I do.”
“Fortune favors you, then. If she is of age, send her to me. If she
is not, your wife will do.”
The man quivered, clearly honored. Once the tremor died away,
he spoke, forcing his voice out.
“As you wish, Your Majesty…”
The man left, and Decem forgot the dead woman completely. The
fate of the useless was of no concern to him.
 2

In the sky above a vast forest to the south of the Nation of Darkness
and southwest of the Theocracy, Ainz was gazing down upon the
land, buffeted by the winds.
“Woodlands? This a grand forest. A sea of trees!”
It was the middle of the night, and the green carpet rolled out
beneath him was dyed the deepest black. Each time the wind blew,
the leaves heaved like the surface of the ocean, making the phrase
he’d used feel quite apt. This place was the size of the Tove
Woodlands and Azerlisia Mountains combined. Quite possibly larger
than the Re-Estize Kingdom’s entire holdings.
Let’s give it a more appropriate name in the Nation, at least.
The vast forest stretched as far as the eye could see, without
anything to break up the monotony. Beneath those leaves, all
manner of species had developed cultures of their own and
territories around them. Yet, from the sky, he could see none of that,
which meant—
The canopy itself provides cover. There are flying monsters to
worry about, so their civilizations naturally avoid dwelling in sight of
the sky.
He had found two landmarks of note.
The first was the crescent-moon lake, where the elf capital
supposedly stood. It was quite sizable and easily spotted on his
ascent.
The other was the dirt path stretching from the Theocracy.
They had cut their way through the forest, blazing a trail for their
invading armies.
The forest itself was so vast, the road was but a thread weaving
through it, but it had to be more than a hundred yards wide.
Otherwise, he’d never have spotted it from this height at all. It
seemed a rather slow way to invade, but providing some measure of
safety within this forest was no small task. And given the time and
labor involved, the Theocracy’s dedication to ending the elf country
was all too evident.
I don’t get it. Why are those the only distinctive features? Has the
Theocracy’s invasion stalled?
The simplest way to wipe out the elves would be to fell the trees
around them and then set them on fire. They weren’t particularly dry,
but neither was the forest especially humid. If you were careful of
your surroundings, you could easily take out a village.
Are they avoiding burns so they can enslave more elves? That
would imply they’re confident of victory. Has the balance of power
swung that far in their favor?
From here, he could not see any evidence of forest fires. He was
a considerable distance away, so it was hard to definitively declare
there had not been any burns. If Aura had been with him, she might
have had a different opinion.
And the Theocracy’s frontline camp must be where those lights
are.
Human eyes could not penetrate the darkness of the night. If a
camp was of any real size, the lights would be visible even from this
distance. He had easily spotted what must be their front line. But for
reasons—most prominently, his altitude—it was hard to estimate just
how far they were from the elf capital. Moreover, if they were clearing
the forest as they advanced, he could not begin to imagine how long
it would take them to reach their destination.
Still, Ainz had seen what there was to see. He activated Greater
Teleportation.
There was no cover in the sky, and anyone flying was easily
spotted. Plenty of people could see perfectly well, even at night. It
was not worth lingering.
Naturally, if anyone started ascending from several thousand
yards below, he would have plenty of time to get away. But he could
see no benefit to announcing his presence in the area. For that
reason, he’d kept Perfect Unknowable active the whole time.
Analysis of the intel they’d gathered suggested this world’s
creatures were mostly quite weak.
But they knew little about this area, and there was no guarantee it
did not hide someone of Ainz’s strength. He had to account for those
maybes and take precautions to avoid revealing too much
information. The more they knew about his skills, the more
countermeasures they could prepare, placing him one step closer to
defeat.
…Next up, the elf capital.

Midnight.
In the woods, sparse moonlight filtered through the boughs above
—a world of near-total darkness. But that was no impediment to
Ainz.
He’d used Fly to descend through the trees and was now
hovering just above the brush, approaching his destination.
He’d figured out roughly how far off the Theocracy armies were.
Now he just had to gather intel in the elf capital.
In time, the view opened up before him.
Elf homes were made from thick, stout trees—aka elf trees—and
the capital was a cluster of these, a forest of its own. The layout was
more or less like any elf village, but where those had few residents,
the capital had many—and that made all the difference. The
residences were packed together, making the place feel
claustrophobic. It reminded Ainz of the gray world he’d once lived in;
he instantly found it repulsive.
Beyond the elf trees of the capital, no other trees grew—only a
plain of short grass.
This was no natural occurrence but a deliberate effort to shore up
their defenses. It provided a clear line of sight on anything
approaching, making a stealthy encroachment unlikely.
Or it could be an elf tree survival strategy.
He wasn’t really doubting the story about the elves using magic to
create the elf trees, but perhaps the trees were just using the elves
to propagate their species.
Maybe the elf trees were actually a kind of monster—it seemed
worth investigating to see if they were sentient.
He wasn’t sure how to do that. Perhaps he should leave it to
Mare.
As he pondered the question, his eyes studied what was in front
of him. If there was a grassy field providing no cover as far as the
eye could see, it stood to reason there were lookouts posted. It
would be difficult to enter without the use of magic.
That said, a ranger of Aura’s level had techniques that would
make it possible. High-level rangers didn’t need cover to conceal
themselves, and if the level gap was great enough, they could go
undiscovered even if they made eye contact. Aura had said
advanced ranger stealth techniques were tantamount to convincing
your foes you were a pebble.
Ainz was not entirely convinced. He’d had Aura demonstrate on
the way here and had managed to spot her—as long as she wasn’t
using magic items to boost her abilities. This was because Aura was
a hybrid ranger/tamer, and while both classes were high-level, her
skills paled in comparison to a pure ranger. On top of which, Ainz
himself was high-level, and his core stats were accordingly high.
Unfortunately, this left him unable to confirm the veracity of Aura’s
claims.
But regardless of the truth, with Ainz’s own abilities, he could not
safely approach the elf capital. For that reason, he had Perfect
Unknowable active and was using an illusion to disguise himself as
an elf.
By the standards of this world, Perfect Unknowable was nigh
impossible to penetrate, but he was using the illusion anyway just in
case—an extra precaution, like he’d taken during his earlier flight.
Not once had he ever believed he knew every skill or ability the
world contained. His knowledge dated from his time in Yggdrasil,
and even that could hardly be considered complete.
Ainz himself kept an invisibility-piercing ability active at all times
and had to assume opponents would do the same.
For that reason, he wore a magic item—the Ghillie Guise Cloak.
Anything to lower his risk of detection, but also a way to hide his true
identity if he was spotted.
Let’s do this.
From the border between the plain and the forest—any closer,
and there were no trees to hide him—Ainz peered up at the capital.
He could see elves on the bridges circling the outer elf trees.
Those were essentially the castle walls, and the bridges were the
ramparts.
Ainz was unsure if they lacked the ability to penetrate Perfect
Unknowable or simply weren’t paying that much attention, but they
showed no signs of spotting him. With all the measures he had in
place, it would be embarrassing if they’d made him right away.
Keeping a tree between himself and the elf sentries, Ainz took out
a scroll.
Just as he was about to activate it, he hesitated.
Once again, he got ready—and he hesitated.
He’d made up his mind already. But he could not shake the
feeling that it was such a waste. Was there not a better way? That
thought persisted, and it stopped him from using the scroll.
If he was in combat or lives were on the line, he wouldn’t think
twice. But with neither being the case—well, the lack of urgency
naturally invited indecision.
He dithered for a while, and eventually, he successfully emptied
his mind, activating the spell at the cost of the scroll. Thought led
only to doubt.
The spell used was God Eye.
A ninth-level spell, it generated an invisible incorporeal magic
eyeball. He had not used this since the lizardmen incident.
The main differences between it and remote viewing through a
magical item were increased range and the fact that it could simply
pass through ordinary walls.
It was an excellent spell for reconnaissance, but not a flawless
one. It was merely invisible and could easily be spotted with tier-two
detection spells. And while incorporeal, if it did take damage, the
feedback would harm the caster. Since it was classified as
intelligence magic, anti-intelligence measures could reveal the
caster’s location, and if he tripped an attack wall, there was a chance
spells would come flying his way. But the greatest flaw was that the
eyeball itself had no HP and borrowed neither level nor defense from
Ainz himself.
 Yet, it was still far safer than infiltrating in person and was
situationally very handy to have around.
It moved steadily forward—at a speed Ainz found infuriatingly
slow—and reached the city walls after some time.
The elf sentries worked in teams of three, armed with bows, but
they did not see the God Eye sailing toward them.
Seems like they don’t have any way of seeing the invisible. But I
can’t be sure other elves don’t have a class allowing it.
The first seemed a safe assumption—they wouldn’t just ignore an
eyeball. But he couldn’t relax. This was his first excursion into an
area he knew nothing about, after all.
Ainz’s God Eye floated under the bridges and into the capital
itself. Once inside, he quickly turned back, moving outside the capital
boundaries again and hovering by the three sentries.
They were talking among themselves and didn’t appear to notice
anything out of the ordinary.
Whew.
Ainz let out a sigh of relief.
The Great Tomb of Nazarick—and many other guild homes—
often used traps that stopped or disrupted some spell effects once
you entered them. Canceling Invisibility, lowering holy-attribute spell
effects, et cetera. He’d been double-checking to see if the elf capital
had anything like that active.
He’d have to check again after entering any key capital
structures, but it seemed like he’d be safe to roam around the bulk of
the city.
With Perfect Unknowable active, he didn’t want to take too much
time. Given how much mana he’d need later, he didn’t have much to
spare.
Ainz’s God Eye moved farther in. His goal was an elf living in a
tree with goods for sale.
In ordinary villages, shops like that would be clustered together,
and that sort of practical design would likely apply even here. Given
the need for storage, it would make sense for them to be in extra-
large trees.
After searching a while longer, his hopes grew dim.
 I can’t find shit!

There were thousands of trees here, and to human sensibilities, it

was just a forest. Possibly because it was late in the night, there
were no visible signs anywhere and no nameplates on the trees
themselves. Just row after row of indistinguishable lumber. He could
not even be sure the tree in front of him was not one he’d checked
already.
In human towns, there would be main roads and avenues and
shops lining them. Possibly stores arranged around a square. But
that logic did not appear to apply here.
There were no larger roads or squares at all—at least none that
he could see. Experience was of no use in this search, and he had to
wing it on hunches alone.
Not a great town for tourists. It would be very difficult to find what
he needed here—no, it seemed downright impossible.
But there was no need to complete the task today. He was in no
hurry; he could afford to take his time and play it safe.
Nonetheless, Ainz kept looking awhile longer. He had used a God
Eye scroll and wanted to look as long as it lasted.

But the result of that extended search was a deep sigh.

If the residents here are already in bed, no matter how many
times I search, I’ll get nowhere.
Searching blindly was useless. He’d have to try again in daylight,
despite the risks. Then at least the flow of foot traffic would clue him
in. Otherwise, there was no telling how long this would take.
Ainz sent the God Eye into a random domicile. Since the elves’
lives revolved around the bridges, the elf tree entrances—what
humans could call homes—were on the second and third floors.
When sneaking in, the first floor was best. Like a thief pilfering the
wardrobes. Too much activity on the second floor.
He slipped through the wall—and then had the God Eye ascend
to the third floor, where he found some elves.
This appeared to be a family home. A father, a mother, and two
boys, all asleep.
I’d heard as much, but…they really are primitive.
This was a “bedroom,” but all four were stretched out on what
appeared to be a pile of leaves. Given that human villagers used
dried grass in lieu of mattresses, this might not qualify as a
substantial difference.
From what the elves in Nazarick had told him, this was typical elf
bedding. Gathering this quantity of leaves was hard work, but once
gathered, they could be used for quite a long time. He’d asked if
there were bugs, but they’d said they had spells to stop that.
The children—both boys—were sleeping peacefully.
Sleep…what is that like?
Ainz’s body had been like this awhile now. Sleep, food, and sex
were things of the past, and it took some doing for him to feel any
pain. That was an asset, making all his feats possible…but there
were times when he missed what he’d lost. Seeing them sound
asleep like this stirred those memories and brought a pang of envy.
Though this was nothing compared to the pangs felt when seated
before a delicious-looking meal.
Gazing at the happy family, he canceled God Eye.
Oooof.
With a shrug, he cast Greater Teleportation, and the view
changed. Before him was a veil of twisted vines.
These blended into the surroundings, looking like part of the
forest but, on closer inspection, were actually a cunning disguise
hiding the little cottage beyond.
This had been created with a magic item—the Green Secret
House. For the next few days, it would be their base of operations.
Fenrir had been seated outside the cottage, and he got up,
sniffing the air and growling, looking—no, glaring—at Ainz.
Not quite at him.
Like Aura earlier, Fenrir couldn’t actually perceive anyone under
Perfect Unknowable’s protection. Yet, despite the spell, he had
realized someone was here, and that was commendable indeed.
Ainz let the spell drop.
Recognizing him, Fenrir quickly bowed his head.
 He might not be capable of speech, but he was far more
intelligent than a simple animal. This gesture was not mere instinct—
it was a conscious decision to apologize to Ainz. But Ainz thought
Fenrir had nothing to be sorry for.
From the wolf’s perspective, an unknown creature had
approached. It was only natural to be cautious and protect his
master. It would be more of a concern had he reacted otherwise.
Fenrir was the only guard Ainz had brought along (in lieu of the
Hanzos). Ainz himself had suggested bringing multiple other high-
level minions but ultimately changed his mind. Unsure how his plan
to help the twins make friends would turn out, he decided it was best
to prevent information from leaking.
And that wasn’t the only concern.
Since Shalltear’s brainwashing, he’d avoided sending guardians
out alone.
But what did he have to show for it? No signs of their enemy, no
matter how much time passed. The only bait taken was when Ainz—
well, Pandora’s Actor—had fought the platinum full-plate man, Rik
Aganeia. Nothing since. Still no clue who had brainwashed Shalltear.
Thus.
If he’d baited Rik in when there were no Hanzos around, then
perhaps his enemies had some way of detecting their presence.
Maybe the use of a World Item.
Maybe one of those abilities unique to this world—Talents.
It might be dangerous, but he’d decided to experiment with
leaving the Hanzos behind.
He had explained the latter reason to Albedo, fully aware that
there were any number of arguments against the idea. She’d nodded
with her usual smile, but he wasn’t sure she fully bought it. Maybe
he’d find out when he got back. Not a prospect he relished.
“Good work,” Ainz said and reached a palm toward the door of
the Green Secret House. It was well hidden and virtually
imperceptible unless you knew exactly where to look.
He pushed lightly against it, but the door didn’t budge.
Sadly, this magic item had no key. It was possible to force it open
with unique magic items like the Epigonoi, but normally, once locked,
you’d need someone inside to open it.
Ainz used the knocker. The Green Secret House allowed you to
make the door semitranslucent—one-way—so that anyone inside
could look out. It didn’t take long before he heard the lock click.
The door swung open.
“Welcome back!”
“Wel…come……back…”
Aura’s voice was bright and cheery, but Mare barely got the words
out. His eyes were clearly not focused.
They’d changed into their sleeping clothes, and Mare even had
on a nightcap. Given the hour, this was entirely appropriate.
“Sorry to keep you up this late.”
Ainz stepped inside.
The interior was bathed in warm light and much more spacious
than the exterior had implied.
Inside the door was a living room with a kitchen beyond. There
were four other doors leading to bunk rooms.
“You said you’d be out late, so I thought it would take far longer.”
“So did I…but no use standing around. Let’s sit.”
He considered telling them to go ahead and sleep, but even if
he’d learned next to nothing, it was worth sharing information—and
sooner rather than later. Ainz really didn’t have much faith in his own
memory.
He felt a little guilty about making them stay up for a mundane
reason like that, but he dutifully led them into the living room to fill
them in.
He sat down on the chair and found Aura ready to listen. Mare’s
head hit the back of his chair, his mouth half-open; he looked ready
to fall asleep right there. Ainz had only just seen two children sound
asleep, and his guilt grew.
Since I don’t need sleep, maybe I’m not being adequately
considerate of those who do? That’s not good.
“Should we put Mare to bed? Aura, you can bring him up to speed
tomorrow.”
“Hoo, boy,” Aura said, smacking his head. “Wake up! You’re
before Lord Ainz! Don’t be rude.”
 “Yawn… Oh. Welcome baaack…”
Mare bowed, but they’d already had that conversation. Ainz didn’t
point that out.
Aura shook her head. “He’s such a child,” she muttered.
“No need to force yourself to stay awake. I don’t want it causing
problems tomorrow…”
He trailed off, remembering some late nights in Yggdrasil.
He didn’t think he’d ever let it affect his work performance. But
was that really true? And staying up too late for something fun was a
far cry from when someone else made you.
Ainz—Satoru Suzuki—had certainly grumbled when his boss had
kept him working late.
And the twins were children. Of course, Mare was a level-100
NPC with an astonishingly high-functioning body, so perhaps there
was no use comparing him to the ordinary human Ainz had once
been, grown-up or not.
Mare was so sleepy, he could barely keep his eyes open, and it
looked like he was glaring at them.
Then his head lolled to one side. He blinked furiously and quickly
straightened himself up.
This wouldn’t work.
“Okay, let’s do that. Mare, we don’t want to affect your
performance tomorrow, so you go to bed. Forcing yourself to stay up
just makes it hard to think straight. There’s little advantage in that.
Like I said, Aura can fill you in tomorrow.”
Aura’s face was a sight; she was torn between the impulse to
obey and feeling like her brother was disgracing them in front of their
master. She soon made up her mind and bowed her head.
“…As you wish. I’ll take Mare to bed. Can you stand?”
“Huhhh…?”
She didn’t even get a real answer. This wasn’t happening.
“Mm, let me carry him.”
Aura’s lips parted, but Ainz got to his feet anyway, picking up
Mare.
“Mm,” Mare mumbled.
He was in sleeping clothes, with minimal gear on, and felt super
light. Maybe that was just how much children weighed.
This might have been hard if he’d been in full gear. I’m sure I
could have managed it, but…that thing is heavy. Possibly the
heaviest weapon any of the guardians carry.
With both hands full—he could have cradled the boy in one if he
wanted—he was led by Aura, who opened the door for him. He
gently laid Mare down on the bed inside.
Mare must have fallen asleep on the way. His eyes were closed,
and he was breathing peacefully.
Careful not to make a sound, Ainz tiptoed out. Aura was even
quieter—she was a ranger.
Back in the living room, they sat down. Aura bowed her head
lower.
“I apologize on his behalf for retiring while you’re still working,
Lord Ainz. Your anger is to be expected, as is your concern about his
abilities as a guardian, but on night duty, we use sleep-blocking
equipment to avoid any risk of this unseemly behavior. Today,
though… Well, to equip the anti-sleep gear, he has to remove a
combat item, which does keep him from exercising his full potential.
Lord Ainz, our top priority here is your protection, so I made the call
to avoid using that sleep preventer.”
This all came out quite quickly. Aura rarely spoke like this, so she
must be pretty rattled.
“No, it’s no concern. Like I said, we’re here on vacation. There’s
nothing wrong with falling asleep early. But you’re properly awake?
You sure you don’t need to sleep?”
“I would never disgrace myself like that in front of you, Lord Ainz.”
“So stiff! I’m not angry, I swear. Honestly, I’m tickled to see a side
of Mare I never ordinarily would. When you’re with me, you’re both
inevitably on your best behavior, so I often wonder how you act when
I’m not around. Is Cocytus any different?”
“…Not really, no.”
Aura was back to her usual self.
“Ah. Well, perhaps I’ll use Perfect Unknowable and take a peek at
what he’s like on his own.”
Ainz smiled—not that anything actually moved, but his tone of
voice likely conveyed it. Aura grinned back, full of mischief.
“Aura, you’re sure you aren’t sleepy?”
“I always stay up this late, so I’m good to go.”
Aura explained that she often played with the nocturnal beasts, so
it was common for her to be up late. This “play” was important for
any beast tamer; if she didn’t spend time with each beast in her care,
they’d get stressed and not be in top condition. She wasn’t taking
time out of her sleep cycle or anything—whenever she stayed up,
she also slept till noon. More or less, it was just like working a late
shift.
When either of them was outside Nazarick, they used the item
she’d mentioned and avoided sleep entirely.
Hmm, is that a good idea? I’m glad they take their duty seriously,
but races that need sleep should probably get it. And sleep is
important for growing children. I’ll have to discuss it with Albedo. For
now…!
Ainz took a breath, then began with the location of the
Theocracy’s invading army. He wasn’t able to accurately say how far
that was from the capital or how many soldiers they had with them.
The goal here wasn’t to pick a fight, so all they needed to know was
that the invasion was ongoing.
More importantly—he filled Aura in on the results of his capital
scouting.
He hid nothing, explaining it all. No point lying or making excuses.
Explaining failures as is. Aura wasn’t like some others he could
name—she would simply nod and maybe provide a better idea.
“Hmm,” Aura said, nodding. “In that case, I think you’re right, Lord
Ainz. Better to try again during the day.”
“That was my thought, yes. What will you be up to?”
“Let me see… Are you sure you don’t want me infiltrating?”
“Hmm. I think it’s extremely unlikely you’d be spotted, but we
know so little. If there’s any chance they’d learn who you are, we
should avoid it at this stage.”
“Then I’ll have to talk with Mare tomorrow about his plans, but I’d
like to support your efforts somehow. How about I search the
capital’s surroundings and look for any tracks the elves might’ve
left?”
Ainz nodded. This made sense.
If they were hauling things in and out of the city, there would be
evidence of that. And the more tracks they found, the more likely that
they would stumble upon a path.
Discovering that would lead them to villagers or settlements—
places where elves often had to go.
He had to assume elves were using something with a similar
effect to Forestwalk, but Aura’s suggestion was a good one. He saw
no reason to reject the idea.
“An excellent suggestion. I’m sure inspecting the area…would
take you a day at most. Mare can help you locate tracks. Find what
you can.”
“Will do!”
“Then, tomorrow—well, the day’s already changed—I’ll try
gathering information again at midday.”
“I might attract attention during daylight hours, so I’ll make my
move after dark.”
“Hmm, sounds like a plan. For now, let us retire. Good night,
Aura.”
“Good night, Lord Ainz!”
Each went to their respective rooms. Ainz lay down on his bed,
but he was undead—and did not need sleep. So he took out a book
from his item box.
A business manual he often read. It was called How to Be a Good
Leader. If he was honest, he didn’t think reading books like this was
doing much good, but it was better than nothing.
He began flicking through the pages.

A late-night incursion on the first day, a midday infiltration on the

second. Two precious scrolls wasted, which certainly hit Ainz where
it hurt, but at noon on the third day, he lucked into some critical
information. In other words, he found several trees that seemed like
shops and was starting to get his bearings.
It might seem like a small step, but for Ainz, it was a huge
development. His joy was so great that his mental restraints kicked
in. Not wanting to waste this intel, he spent a good deal of time
double-checking the route to the shop.
At that point, he beat a temporary retreat. The spell itself had
plenty of time left on it, so he was tempted to send the God Eye up
the unnaturally tall, thick central tree—the palace—and take a peek
inside but ultimately stopped himself.
In human society, kings need not be strong, but there were two
reasons for that. First, you could not survive by following the strong,
only those who could make the right judgment calls. This was a
survival strategy for a feeble species who would otherwise be little
more than food for everything else. Second, their dwellings were
secure. That was the difference between this forest and the Empire,
the kingdom, and the Sacred Kingdom.
But for a race carving out a living in competition with other
species, it was natural for the king to be the strongest among them.
The elf king was clearly a force to be reckoned with. Best to avoid
unnecessary risks here.
Ainz had learned a lot about this world but had yet to find anyone
but monsters anywhere close to his strength. Had he not met that
mysterious warrior Rik, he might not have spared much thought for
the elf king. But the fight with Rik had made Ainz extra cautious.
He discarded the eyeball spell and cast Greater Teleportation.
Back at their base, he found the twins waiting for him—this time
Mare was wide awake—and they exchanged information.
He learned the twins had found a number of paths—the elves
mostly moved within the trees, so the second day had been a waste.
Discovering where these led would depend on how far they led.
Ainz expressed concern that if they moved in daylight, they’d be
spotted by the elves on these paths.
Aura seemed quite confident that if they rode Fenrir through the
woods alongside the path, they would not be discovered easily. Her
confidence convinced Ainz he had nothing to worry about. But he did
not immediately grant permission to investigate. Rather, he
suggested holding off for now. They might have far better information
later that day.

Night had fallen on the third day…

Once again under cover of Perfect Unknowable, Ainz approached
the elf capital. Naturally, from a different direction than any previous
approach, with magic assists. There was always a small chance a
skilled elf ranger had discovered signs of his previous visits.
Fly should have stopped him from leaving any tracks on the
ground, but Ainz himself had little expertise with stealth or tracking.
For all he knew, he could have bent branches or scattered leaves in
odd directions, leaving trace signs behind.
Honestly, sometimes I wonder if being extra-extra cautious all the
time is actually worth it, but if the surrounding villages all go on red
alert because some mystery intruder is hanging around, that’ll make
everything far more difficult. And if the Theocracy takes those elves
prisoner—well, I’d rather they not find out about my little scouting
mission.
Even if they did discover signs of a mysterious watcher, few
would assume they were from the Nation of Darkness. However, the
Theocracy finding out a third party was hanging around was bad
news. He was scared to see what they’d do. Unexpected actions
could mess up all kinds of plans.
I could pop back and consult Albedo and Demiurge, but that could
put a damper on my “have Aura and Mare make friends” scheme.
Which left him with only one option—be as careful as he could.
Ainz took out a scroll and this time activated it right away. He was
certain it would lead to results, and therefore, he did not hesitate.
His God Eye flew into the target elf tree, and Ainz muttered, “All
right!” under his breath.
The elf he was after was sound asleep on a bed of leaves. A
grown male.
As a rule, elves had slim builds and were shorter than the
average human. Maybe 80 to 90 percent as tall. They had little body
hair and no beards. And since their biological prime lasted for
centuries, it was difficult to determine their ages—everyone looked
young.
So he couldn’t be sure this elf had the information Ainz was after.
Yet, he’d targeted him anyway, for good reason—
No one slept here but this man.
Cleaning up after snatching a whole family was a lot more work.
He had a second goal in mind, but that—he’d have to find out
later.
Ainz knew where the man’s home was, so he used Greater
Teleportation to bring himself there.
The elf did not wake at his entry. Ainz had made no noises and
was undetectable—even someone high-level would likely not have
noticed. This was expected.
Ainz used a tier-four spell, Charm Species.
This took hold easily—the fact that the elf was asleep helped
more than the level gap.
“Wake up,” he said.
Perfect Unknowable had dissipated the moment Ainz used a
hostile spell—in more accurate game terms, when the spell required
a resistance calculation. As he spoke, he grabbed the elf’s shoulder
—gently, not causing pain—and shook it. He did not want to linger in
enemy territory.
“—Mrah?”
Not the most intelligent noise, but he had been asleep.
“Don’t resist,” Ainz said. He took the man’s hand and cast Greater
Teleportation.
This spell allowed you to travel with someone else, but only if they
consented—if they resisted, they’d be left behind. However, a
charmed state was treated as “consent” and posed no hindrance.
The same went for the higher-level controlled state, but while harder
to resist, Ainz had reasons to avoid resorting to that.
For now, his kidnapping was a success. He had the makings of a
criminal mastermind.
Cool, just as planned.
Having everything go right was always a pleasure. A broad smile
spread across his bony visage.
 “Whoa! Wh-what the—what’s going on?!”
The elf appeared to be shocked by the sudden change in the
ground below him and the view before his eyes. He leaped to his
feet, now wide awake. Did not seem like he was inclined to believe
this was all just a dream. Perhaps elven culture was not big on that
notion.
Ainz glanced around, but unlike the past few days, there was no
sign of Fenrir. He must be hiding out of the elf’s view.
“Nothing to yell about.”
“N-nah, it kinda is…”
“I simply used a teleportation spell. Keep your voice down. No
one here will harm you.”
“T-teleportation?!”
The elf blinked and then fell silent. The charm kept his responses
mild.
“Come on in.”
Ainz ushered the elf through the half-open door of the Green
Secret House.
He knew Aura and Mare must be watching through the gaps in
the doors to their respective rooms.
He’d wondered if having two dark elves at the table might help
loosen this man’s lips, but as there was a chance revealing their
faces could cause issues down the road, he’d thought better of it.
The three elf women they’d rescued had not shown any hostility
to dark elves. But the situation might have changed in recent times,
or perhaps the elf capital had always taken a more negative view of
their kind.
Even if that was the case, Ainz could have simply said, These two
are not your enemy, and resolved the matter.
“What is this place? Is this the world of the godtree?”
Ainz had no idea what a godtree might be but assumed it must be
from elven myths or legends. Or—
Could it be related to Yggdrasil players? I’ll have to ask…but I
don’t want to take much time. Maybe some other day.
Ainz had the man sit down on the living room couch. He took out
a piece of notebook paper on which he had written several questions
to ask this elf. Time was of the essence. If he messed this up, he’d
have to kill the man. But that would mean a mysterious
disappearance in the elf capital, which had a low but distinct chance
of causing future headaches.
“Since we’re good friends, I’d love for you to tell me a thing or
two. Keep it nice and simple.” Ainz did not wait for a reply. “Is there
any possibility—magical or otherwise—that leaking information
would lead to your death?”
“Huh? Of course not.”
The elf looked at him like he was crazy, but it was always possible
he simply didn’t know.
And in that case, three questions is all I get.
They’d planned for that, which was why there were only three
questions on his note. He was going in order.
“Do you know where the dark elf village is?”
“…Not exactly, but I know the approximate area.”
It was farther southwest from the capital. He was given more
detailed instructions, but the directions mentioning the three big trees
didn’t really mean much to Ainz.
He’d have to hope Aura got more out of it.
“Next…”
The last question on his note was one Aura and Mare had been
shocked he’d originally not planned to ask. They had a point, and it
was pretty important.
“Tell me what you know about the Theocracy.”
“The Theocracy… Oh, you mean those horrible humans! We ain’t
done nothing to them, but they invaded us anyway!”
He launched into a lengthy tirade, accusing them of tyranny,
unprovoked aggression, and the enslavement of hundreds of elves.
Ainz was forced to step in and stop him.
It seemed like he was but an ordinary citizen and didn’t know just
how close the Theocracy was to the capital. He wasn’t even sure if
the elves were winning or losing. But the guards on patrol seemed
extra tense these days, which the ordinary elves took as a bad sign.
That was the last of his three questions, but this elf did not seem
to be any worse for wear. Those prisoners had been the exception.
In which case, he had plenty more to ask—but did not want to take
too much time.
“How are relations with the dark elves? Any enmity to speak of?”
“None…that I know of?” The pause was because he’d started
answering before Ainz had quite finished. “I sure don’t, and nobody I
know has anything against dark elves or thinks less of ’em. They’re
basically distant relatives, ya know? But that’s our perspective on it,
and I can’t speak for them. Never met one, so honestly no clue what
they make of us.”
“Do you know anything about the Nation of Darkness?”
“What’s that?”
No lag there. That was the answer Ainz had expected. And at the
least, that meant it would not work against his plan to help the twins
make friends.
“That’s all I need to know. Thank you.”
“No prob. What are friends for?”
That made Ainz smirk. He’d used the word himself, but hearing it
from someone else just made the lie all the more transparent. Ainz’s
only friends were his fellow guild members.
“That’s enough,” he said. The signal—Mare’s face peeked out
from the crack in the door behind the elf. To keep him from noticing,
Ainz kept talking. “I would have liked to know more about elf culture,
but I’m afraid we don’t have time—”
The man’s eyes blurred, and he fell over on the couch, sound
asleep.
This sudden slumber was the result of Mare’s Sandman’s Sand.
Aura came out with her brother, so Ainz asked, “Aura, will that
man’s directions get us to the dark elf village?”
“I believe so, yes. Once we get closer, I may have to investigate
further.”
That was more than enough. Ainz used Control Amnesia.
This was a major reason why he’d snatched—chosen—a man
who lived alone.
Elf ages were hard to determine, and a grown-looking male might
not turn out to be an elf who knew much about the world. He could
well have been a very young man who’d never even left the capital.
 Meanwhile, someone with kids would likely be old enough, but
that raised the question of what to do with them—and their family.
If they wound up deciding they had to eliminate them—well, now
an entire family was missing, and with no signs of any struggle. The
uproar would almost certainly come back to haunt him. No one
would believe they’d up and decided to flee into the night for no
apparent reason.
And he lacked the mana to use Control Amnesia on that many.
For that reason, Ainz had gone with a bachelor instead.
He wiped the man’s memories in one fell swoop. Meticulous
memory manipulation, making every detail add up—that was a tall
order indeed. But all at once, without much thought—that was pretty
simple.
And since he didn’t have to go that far back, the total volume was
quite small. That’s why he’d been racing against the clock. If he
hadn’t planned on using this spell, he could have asked questions
until the charm ran out, then cast Charm Species again and
continued questioning the man.
But since he’d kept the question count low and taken little time, all
he had to do was wipe all memories after he’d gone to bed. He might
have gone back a bit too far—Ainz had accidentally wiped the part
where he lay down to sleep.
That kind of error was common when rushing cleanup, but if he’d
gone any slower, Ainz might have run out of mana. Given how much
he still had left, maybe it wouldn’t have been an issue…but that was
hindsight talking.
Nothing he could do about it now. The elf might be a bit confused,
but hopefully he’d invent a plausible explanation on his own.
Ainz had used a lot of mana, but since he’d prepared carefully
and made no mistakes, the remainder was enough to complete the
plan.
“I’ll be right back. Aura, Mare, help like we planned?”
“Yes, Lord Ainz! We’re on it!”
“Um, r-right. I’ll do my part!”
Ainz led the way, while the twins picked the man up, swinging by
his limbs. Either one of them was strong enough to carry the man on
their own, but there was a risk they’d bump into something and have
that register as damage, canceling the spell and waking him up.
Then Ainz would have to cast Control Amnesia again and run out of
mana.
Of course—
I have another plan for that eventuality, so it wouldn’t pose a real
problem.
Ainz stepped out of the Green Secret House and activated
Perfect Unknowable. Then he opened a Gate.
It led straight to the elf’s bedroom.
He stepped through first, inspecting the bedroom interior, ears
perked up.
Whew, that’s a relief.
No one had been surprised by the Gate’s appearance and gone
running. Just to be sure, he stayed still a moment, listening closely.
Seems like we’re good.
A ranger of Aura’s level could probably be too quiet for Ainz to
hear, but even she didn’t stay in perfect stealth mode around the
clock. If a veteran ranger had noticed something off about the man’s
house, guessed there might be more to it, and staked the place out,
that would be such bad luck, Ainz would have no choice but to
suspect someone was out to get him. Best to assume nothing like
that had happened.
He released Perfect Unknowable and poked his head through the
Gate, signaling to the twins that they were free to carry the man
through.
They executed the plan in silence.
Aura and Mare carefully laid the man down on the leaf bed.
Letting him take damage here (and waking up) would be a very
stupid mistake.
Sandman’s Sand was stronger than regular old Sleep. A good
shake could wake you from the latter, but Sandman’s Sand would
leave you under until you took actual damage.
If they left him like this, he would not wake up until someone
found him and hurt him. He might even sleep until he died. That
would undo all the efforts Ainz had taken to avoid causing a
commotion.
With the elf on the bed, the next step was to wake him up. Ainz
looked around, searching the closet he’d spied on his earlier
exploration.
He found a wooden carving depicting a strange sort of creature—
probably—like a mole or frog with a portly belly. He hadn’t seen
anything like this in the woods around them. Perhaps it was a
fictional being from elf myths or legends. Ainz picked it up.
Definitely wood. Still…heavier than it looks. If the blow proves
fatal…well, that’s just his luck.
Even if this became a crime scene, no one could tie the murder to
Ainz.
The twins saw him heft the statue and carried the man over
beneath the shelf.
Aura and Mare nodded once and disappeared through the Gate.
Ainz himself stood just outside of it.
He tossed the strange statue toward the ceiling.
This was Ainz’s best shot at avoiding any suspicious deaths.
Before the statue landed, he jumped through the Gate and closed
it behind him.
“Good. Now for the final check. Wait right here.”
“Okay! Got it! Almost done! Good luck, Lord Ainz!”
“Er, um, I’m sure you’ll be just fine, Lord Ainz! But, um, I know
you’re running low on mana, so be careful!”
With that, Ainz cast Perfect Unknowable again, then used Greater
Teleportation. This took him back to the elf’s abode.
“Shit fire! That hurts like hell! Why’d it fall? Why was I even
sleeping over here? Booze? I don’t remember drinking… Goddamn,
that stings!”
The elf was awake and glaring balefully at the statue. His eyes
were tearing up, but Ainz couldn’t help but grin.
Excellent! The perfect crime.
The man was clearly not acting—he genuinely didn’t suspect a
thing. Well, he was confused by the statue that had fallen on him but
naturally didn’t think anyone had broken into his house and thrown it
at him.
 “…Wait.”
Ainz had been about to teleport away but quickly stopped.
Did he notice something amiss? He can’t know it was us, but
does he know someone was here? This is a shop; could there be a
security device or…a magic item? One even I couldn’t detect?
“Maybe Tsungoggua was trying to tell me something!”
Tsungoggua? There were no monsters in Yggdrasil by that name.
“Tsungoggua, Tsungoggua! Please send me a sign!”
The elf was on his knees, head bowed to the wooden statue.
Clearly the pose of a faithful man in supplication.
…Some sort of indigenous religion? This man sure talks to
himself a lot. Does he think someone’s listening? A prayer to some
god named Tsungoggua?
This man had gone from useful tool to something far more
sinister. Ainz wondered if it might be better if he snatched him up and
finished him off but decided against it. There was a strong possibility
he was just religious. Best to be cautious, though. He’d have
preferred to leave something to watch over him, but even Ainz had
no good options there. None of his spells would help. At best, he
could use magic to peek in on him from time to time.
Ainz clicked the tongue he didn’t have, then used Greater
Teleportation to return to the Green Secret House exterior.
Canceling Perfect Unknowable, Ainz gave the twins a thumbs-up
and got big grins back. Honestly, that last bit had been concerning,
but without a good way to deal with it, it seemed pointless to worry
them.
“All right, everybody! I thank you for all your assistance. Today’s
business has come to a close,” Ainz said, being very theatrical. The
twins looked momentarily taken aback but soon smiled again. “The
hour is late, so let us head to bed, lest we find ourselves weary in the
morning.”
“Yes, Lord Ainz!” they chorused.
“The date may already have changed, but when should we rise?
You may wake when you please, but no sleeping all day. If you can
be up by nine, I’ll fetch breakfast for us from Nazarick.”
“Okay!” they said, and Aura elbowed Mare in the ribs.
 He had meant none of this to sound spiteful, so he just said,
“Then—good work, one and all.”
“Good work, Lord Ainz!” they said.
“And good night!”
 3

They set out for the dark elf village.

Fenrir was running across the land, following the elf man’s
directions. If they’d been able to spot any landmarks from above,
they could have skipped right to the end, but even Aura had come up
empty.
Speeding through the forest meant damp air—as in the air itself
was practically green—constantly buffeting Ainz’s face. That
distinctly pungent smell of the forest made his nostrils quiver.
Perhaps it was only his imagination, but the air here felt very
different from the Tove Woodlands. If it were not all in his mind, then
this world was more varied than he’d imagined; even similar terrain
contained an infinite myriad.
This thought left him with an urge to explore the world at large.
An ordinary human in this forest would find their path blocked by
hanging vines and overgrown thickets. Unable to travel in a straight
line, they could easily get themselves all turned around.
The man had said the dark elf village was a good week out from
the capital.
Elves might be adapted to life in the forest, but even they could
likely manage only nine or ten miles a day. That meant their
destination was at least sixty miles out. They’d covered that distance
in just over an hour. If they hadn’t felt a need to keep an eye on their
surroundings, they could have made it in less.
That just proved how good Fenrir was. His Forestwalk skill was
particularly handy. The trees and brush seemed to move aside to let
them pass, allowing them to charge straight ahead. Even Fenrir
could not have gotten them this far in so short a time without that
skill.
Now—
“It should be around here…,” Aura said, frowning.
She was seated in front of Ainz.
 Since elven villages were made of trees, it was sort of hard to
spot them in a forest. That was probably why their culture had
adopted that lifestyle. The capital’s approach—felling the trees
around the city—was an exception to the rule.
But they had no means of hiding the villages from a skilled ranger
like Aura. It seemed unlikely they’d missed anything along the way,
so they must not be there yet.
“If the path we’ve taken was the right one, then there’s no cause
for concern. We don’t want to get too close just yet,” Ainz said,
tapping the mask he wore. “Best we locate the village first, then hide
ourselves somewhere the dark elves won’t find us and gather
information.”
He was a little scared they’d come to the wrong place entirely. But
that was not very likely.
This forest was a sea of trees, with no landmarks anywhere—
Ainz alone could never have gone anywhere without getting lost. The
path the elf had described was all, There’s a boulder at twenty-five-
hundred paces, turn toward the three trees in a row, and go another
three thousand steps. It didn’t really make sense to Ainz.
But it did to Aura.
She’d certainly been confused at times and had to stop and look
around, but once her mind was made up, she’d led the way with
confidence.
Are all rangers this good, or is it just Aura?
He hadn’t been nearly as impressed by it on their way to the
dwarf country, but this time they clearly would never have gotten
anywhere without a ranger.
Yggdrasil had had its share of jungle zones, but in hindsight, they
were still less punishing than this. He had never imagined a real
jungle could be this formidable.
It was also true he found it exciting.
The jungle depths…who knows what we might find. Wasn’t that
the motto of the World Searchers?
Exploration was itself a thrill. That was the essence of the true
adventurer Ainz sought to create.
Leave everything behind and set out to see the world…
 Ainz shook off that thought. He could never do that. He was the
absolute ruler of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, Ainz Ooal Gown.
Exploration was a luxury not meant for him.
But every now and then might not be out of the question—not
abandoning Nazarick entirely or anything, of course. Just vacations.
Argh, my mind’s running in circles. Can I honestly say I’m not just
here to shirk my duties and escape my burdens? I’m treading water,
making no progress at all. Are undead incapable of personal growth?
Or am I just particularly bad at it? Thoughts like this lead to nothing
but sighs. No use brooding. Focus… This trip is about Aura and
Mare. Next time, maybe I’ll take Cocytus and Demiurge
somewhere… It’s been far too long.
He remembered when they’d obtained that land-sailing ship
together on the Katze Plain.
Right! No more negativity. Think positive! If I’m taking more trips
like this, it’ll be hard without a ranger, but it might be fun to overcome
things with sheer wit and inspiration!
This time they had Aura, so things were going swimmingly. But
that also left Ainz with little to do himself. That was rather dull.
Naturally, he wasn’t about to stick his nose in and insist he could
do things; that would just make Aura defer to him. If he screwed up,
she would likely gently guide him back on course, but…
I don’t want that at all. I’m already frightened enough that I’m
getting in the way of properly running my own nation.
Ainz would have loved to try an adventure without Aura’s steady
hand and have a grand old time with everyone debating about the
best course of action. But perhaps he only felt that way because he
knew he could explore with the best of them.
Even if he got lost in unknown territory and couldn’t find his way
out, he could always teleport away.
Even if an unknown creature attacked from the brush, he could
handle it—and, worst-case scenario, escape to Nazarick.
Sending adventurers into uncharted territory is a fine idea.
Ainzach agreed with me. But I can’t assume they can do what I can.
Watching Aura work here just shows the importance of training them
properly.
 Ainz did not want them dying on their adventures.
They’re training in the Tove Woodlands…
But that was wholly under Nazarick’s control and was a far cry
from this place. Perhaps they could train there and hold the final
exam here. He’d have to discuss it with Mare later.
“Er, um, Lord Ainz?”
“Mm? Oh, sorry, Aura. I got lost in thought there. What is it?”
“Uh, just…what do we do now?”
Ainz looked up at the sky. The branches grew so thick that he
could not see a scrap of blue. But the light itself had taken on a
reddish hue that made the hour all too clear.
“Hmm. Like last time, we should secure a location outside the
territory of intelligent life-forms like the dark elves—somewhere hard
to find. And then we’ll base our operations there.”
“Understood! Can I have a little time?”
Ainz nodded, and Aura hopped down from Fenrir’s back. But
before she could run off, Ainz stopped her.
“Wait, Aura. Take Fenrir with you. We’ll wait here, but no cause
for concern. I’ll summon another monster to replace him. Does that
sound okay, Mare?”
“Y-yes, Lord Ainz.”
Mare’s voice came from behind. They’d been riding the wolf with
the twins on either side of Ainz.
With Fenrir’s intelligence, he could easily detect anyone
approaching—an ability Ainz and Mare found quite helpful, as they
were not skilled in that department. But having him stay behind
would force Aura to move alone.
If she had a way of summoning monsters like Ainz, that would be
one thing, but she had no such skill, and Ainz didn’t want to risk
sending her into unknown territory without a guard. She could use a
magic item instead, but that summoning took an action, and given
the time limit, it wasn’t the best choice.
Maybe I’m being a worrywart, but bringing Fenrir would also let
her finish the job faster.
Aura swallowed her arguments and said, “Will do!” instead. Ainz
and Mare dismounted, and she rode away on the wolf. They were
soon hidden by the dense brush.
“Now then, Mare. Let’s keep ourselves out of sight here. If anyone
discovers us, Aura’s efforts will be in vain.”
“R-right. Um, then…should we use the Green Secret House?”
“Good idea, but there’s another step I should take first.”
On his own, Perfect Unknowable was always his best option, but
there was no way to cast that spell on others. Mare couldn’t use it,
so they’d need another approach. Like Ainz had mentioned earlier,
they would summon a monster.
Mare pulled out a small figure from his item box.
A magic item—Magical Beast Statue: Cerberus.
This had been made by the same creator as the Animal Statue:
Warhorse he’d used in the past. It was carefully carved, capturing a
snapshot of the creature’s rippling muscles and making it look ready
to come to life. A true work of art.
When Ainz used it, the statue grew, expanding into the shape of a
great beast.
As expected, a Cerberus appeared.
Biting with those three doglike, lionlike heads, raking with those
razor-sharp claws, injecting poison from its snakelike tail, able to add
fire damage to all its attacks, immune to all varieties of flame and
poison—this high-level beast boasted solid combat stats.
Anyone who wanted to summon the Cerberus with a spell would
need to be able to cast Summon Tenth-Tier Monster. That should be
some indication of its raw power.
But to a player of Ainz’s skill, it was hardly a major threat. Few
things were.
Summoned monsters were not designed to solo kill other players
—they were all about exploiting weaknesses, trapping opponents,
increasing general DPS, or perhaps tanking incoming damage.
Certainly, it would fare better in a straight-up fight if he used skills
to buff it right. The undead Ainz summoned certainly came with a
few bells and whistles. But this strength would simply never be a
match for a player in the same level bracket as Ainz; a player would
risk losing only if it was an incredibly unfavorable matchup or if their
build was fundamentally flawed.
 The reason Ainz had gone with the Cerberus over, say, an eyeball
corpse was because he’d assumed beast-type monsters came with
solid detection skills.
And in a dense forest, a good nose and ears were much more
useful than eyes.
This Cerberus wasn’t as high-level as Fenrir, but it had three
heads. That meant it was three times as good at sniffing things out.
Probably.
“Yikes,” Mare said, having never seen this beast before. Ainz was
almost certain it wasn’t because Mare thought it looked strong.
If the two of them were to fight, the Cerberus could never win.
Mare could likely defeat it with one hand tied behind his back.
“Cerberus, if you smell anyone else approaching, let us know.”
The three heads each growled. It seemed motivated and
confident. Very you got it, boss! Pleased with this, Ainz shot Mare a
boastful look—but the boy likely didn’t pick up on that at all.
“Oh, how far out can you distinguish scents? A few hundred
yards?”
The Cerberuses—or the heads of the one—all froze.
“What?”
This time he was getting huh? uh-oh, and yoiks, followed by a
nervous a few hundred yards?
At least, that was how Ainz read it. There was a possibility he was
wrong.
“I mean, you have three heads. You can smell farther than Fenrir,
right?”
The Cerberus let out a whine and displayed its belly.
If it had been a puppy, that could have been cute, and even Ainz
might have been tempted to give it a rub. But this was a three-
headed monster. It was the opposite of cute. The bulk alone did it no
favors, and the hideous faces defied the concept.
When Ainz didn’t move, Mare decided to be nice and rub the
beast’s belly.
“…Mm? What’s this?” Ainz asked.
Careful not to knock Mare over, the Cerberus got back to its feet,
letting out a grim growl. I’ll try. I can do it! No, I can’t. The heads did
not seem aligned on this.
Ainz settled on the most negative of the three.
“…If you can’t, that’s fine. I don’t want to force you to attempt the
impossible and have it end in failure. Can you at least monitor scents
around us and let us know if anyone unfamiliar approaches?”
He may have suggested the range himself, but he’d been aware
that a few hundred yards was clearly unreasonable.
Ah-ha-ha, yeah, that we can do, boss. Can do. You got it!
Ainz nodded. “Then let’s go with that.”
The heads growled and sniffed the air.
Incidentally, Ainz did not need to voice these orders aloud. Even
under the influence of spells like Silence, summoned monsters were
his to command. Anyone who wanted to disrupt the link between
summoner and familiar would have to use an extremely niche class
build called anti-summoner. Ainz had spoken aloud only because he
knew Mare would be left out if he and the Cerberus just stood there
staring at each other while communicating telepathically.
“Next, let’s do what you suggested, Mare. Set up the Green
Secret House so we can shelter within. Best if no one has a chance
of spotting us.”
“Okay!”
Mare looked pleased his suggestion was approved.
It had been a good one.
Neither of them had the means to cover his tracks. If they
carelessly wandered around, they might well leave signs that any
wilderness expert could easily use to hunt them down.
The less they moved, the better. Their best option was probably
Camouflage, a spell druids and rangers used to keep themselves
quiet, but sadly, no one present had access to that. Mare was a
druid, but his specific build was pretty extreme, focused mainly on
mass-extermination spells. Without using items, he had no access to
the bulk of the standard druid spellbook, barring a few buffs.
In which case, hiding inside the Green Secret House was the
most viable option. By staying put, they left no tracks.
Just one problem.
It really wasn’t a good look.
 Aura was out working her butt off, and he was kicking back in a
cottage.
Naturally, Ainz was familiar with the phrase idle hands are the
devil’s tools. There was a time when someone had used that line as
an excuse for foisting work off on him, which had compelled him to
look it up. And he remembered Squishy Moe saying there was no
greater hindrance than a fool with a work ethic.
So doing nothing was the right choice.
If he was simply here as the King of Darkness, entrusting a task
to one of the floor guardians who served him, that would be well and
fine. But what had he claimed this expedition was supposed to be?
A paid vacation.
And if the man who’d proposed that was kicking back and making
children go out and work in his place, how could he help but feel
guilty?
He pushed his brain into overdrive but couldn’t think of any way to
help Aura with her work. Nor could he think of anything to do from
his current position. At best, he could claim to be keeping Mare
entertained.
Looking after a child is a feeble excuse…or worse, a bald attempt
to wriggle off the hook. But what else is there? Nothing I do would
back Aura’s task. Is there anything I could do that would impress—or
at least prove I know how to be the grown-up in the room?
He felt sure there must be some role he could play here.
But racking his brain produced no good solutions.
Dejected, he turned to Mare.
“I guess we’ll sit in the Green Secret House and wait for Aura to
get back.”
“Okay!”
Mare’s cheerful grin felt like some small salvation.

There exists a magical beast known as the ankyloursus.

From a distance, it looked like a bear, but failure to immediately
recognize the difference would likely prove fatal.
They averaged a good two or three yards tall. Two forelegs on
each side (a total of four) with two hind legs. Two of the four
forelimbs were primarily used for combat, with two-foot-long jagged
claws as hard as burnished steel. At the back was a long, thick tail
that ended in a tip that widened out like a hammerhead.
And the bulk of its body was covered in thick plate armor—an
advanced type of scale. The raw power this frame could command
was prodigious. Between the muscles and the sharp claws, it could
easily slice through any human’s armor.
But that was the only thing to fear.
It had no skills of note, could use no powerful spells. The only
magic the ankyloursus knew was Fragrance, and that was not a
combat spell. Within this forest, it was a top predator—but not the
top.
But there were exceptions.
This particular ankyloursus was more than four yards tall. Its raw
power alone could spell doom for monsters with tricky skills or
powerful magic.
To the untrained eye, it might appear to be a different species
entirely—this was an ankyloursus worth calling a lord.

Lifting its face from the creature it’d been feeding on, the
ankyloursus let out a low growl, one that would strike fear into the
hearts of anyone who heard it. Intestines slid free from the corner of
its jaw.
Its breath tinged with blood, it sniffed the air. There was fresh
blood on its face, but it could smell past that, detecting two odors it
had never smelled before. The two scents mingled. Perhaps mates.
Its belly was full.
It could let them pass.
But irritation propelled it to a slow lumber.
This was its territory. Intruding, walking around like they owned
the place? Unacceptable.
It rose up on its hind legs and raked the bark of a nearby tree with
its claws, then rubbed itself against the trunk. Clear evidence that
this was its domain.
It began moving toward the odors, casting Fragrance along the
way. This would disguise the scent of blood as well as the odor of its
own body. That was how a creature the size of the ankyloursus got
close to its prey. Capturing anything in this forest otherwise would be
nigh impossible.
There were no signs they’d noticed it. If they had, they would be
acting differently. Stopping to listen closely, for instance. Or maybe
making a beeline out of here. These creatures did neither. Or did
they think they could win?
The ankyloursus stayed as quiet as it could until the scent was
near. The trees were still too dense to get a clear view.
But scent alone was enough. It always hunted like this. If it could
see them, they could see it. It never hurried until it reached that
range, moving stealthily, tracking the odor carefully, then a lunge—
that last burst of speed was the linchpin of its hunt.
It was close enough. The scent stayed still.
And so it broke into a run—just like any other hunt. Despite its
bulk, it slipped through the trees like the wind.
This was no handy skill like Forestwalk. When it had staked a
claim to this territory, it had simply toppled enough trees that it could
easily charge around. Naturally, no smaller tree could ever impede it,
but if its prey was nimble, that might let it get away.
Its strength was certainly overwhelming, but it did not succeed on
every hunt. Thus, it prepared.
The source of the odors stood before him.
One dark and small, one dark and large. The small one rode on
top of the large one.
Not mates. Likely different creatures entirely.
That was not unusual. Creatures like this could be found from
time to time. They helped each other. A wise way to protect
themselves from predators. The one on top might have unusual
skills, while the one below was fleet of foot.
But to the ankyloursus, they were merely another meal.
It smirked.
 At this range, they would not escape. The little one was barely a
mouthful, but the lower one was sizable enough. The ankyloursus
was full now, so it would bury them to eat later.
But…something was odd.
It was charging forward, legs pounding the ground. Even the
dullest creature would spot it and take action at this point.
Why did these dark creatures show no fear? Why did they not
run? Most things it had met did both. Others of its kind were the only
rare exception.
Were they frozen in fear?
It considered that as it charged.
The meat of the petrified was not the best. It preferred to leave
them half-alive and let them bleed out—it was best when the meat
went limp. Feasting on the organs while the prey still lived was
always good. Flesh after it abandoned hope was truly delectable.
“Graghhhhhhh!”
It rose up, howling at its prey.
This was no mere threat—it was trying to scare them.
Run. Perhaps you will live. It will make your flesh taste better.
A whisper crossed its mind, but there was no running at this
distance. It knew the hunt was a success.
“Huh, never seen one of these before. What a cute bear!”
The little one was chirping.
Oh, right, it remembered. It had seen creatures like this little one
high up in the trees. The average ankyloursus could climb trees, but
this one was far too large. If it wanted to eat food in trees, it knocked
entire trees down, slamming them into the ground and eating what
fell from them. It had been full at the time, and they were far away,
so it hadn’t bothered.
But this one was on the ground and ready for eating.
The dark thing beneath was just looking up at it.
Its claws came down.
The lower beast was its target. This would prevent them from
running.
There was a clang—and its forelimb grew hot. Then the heat
turned to pain.
 It crumpled, falling back.
The ankyloursus looked at the source of the pain.
Its forearm was still there. The limb was not gone, but it hurt far
too much to move.
“Grrrrr…”
Looking again, the smaller prey had some snakelike wriggly thing
dangling from its arm. Had it attacked with that? Maybe it was
poisonous. The ankyloursus had been bitten by a giant poisonous
snake as an infant, and this felt similar.
“Yeah, yeah, calm down—don’t thrash around.”
The little one waved a hand, and a nearby tree snapped. The
snakelike thing had struck the tree. The impact split the bark and
detonated the wood inside.
It could do that, too. But seeing it done so casually sent a shiver
down its spine.
Was this thing actually small?
It was beginning to look much bigger.
“Good, good, don’t be scared. See, I’m not scary.”
Chirping away, the little one split away from the big one. It landed
on the ground, forelimbs spread wide as it approached. Such a tiny
thing. It towered over it.
The ankyloursus was a predator, and this was prey—or so it
thought. So…why did this small creature keep approaching, totally
unafraid?
It was almost like—like it was the prey.
With that thought, its gaze broke away to glance at the bigger
creature.
That one simply watched from the side.
This only confused the ankyloursus even more. It had never met
a creature that acted like this.
The ankyloursus was spooked, so it did the only thing that still
made sense: It turned tail and fled.
When it was young—shortly after leaving its mother and the den
—it had often run from foes it could not handle. It saw no shame in
fleeing what it could not understand.
But then something wrapped around its hind limb—
 “Hokayyy…”
—and the world spun.
With a tug and a sudden sensation of floating in the air, the
ankyloursus found itself on its back.
How had it been flipped over?
It sat up and saw the long snake thing coiled around one hind leg.
The little creature stood at the other end.
The ankyloursus had no idea what was going on, but…the little
one must be responsible despite its feeble size.
“Don’t you run away,” the little one growled, baring its teeth.
The chirping sound it made was clearly a threat to eat the
ankyloursus. This little one could attack prey without provoking hair-
raising fear. Maybe it was the kind of predator who ambushed
creatures. Were all the things in those trees this strong?
“Hmm, maybe I shouldn’t. I can’t keep Lord Ainz waiting. Might be
easier to kill and skin this thing than capture it…but that would be
such a waste! It could help with my experiments. Hmm. And Lord
Ainz did say killing should be a last resort…”
The little one was staring at it. Was it not very fast? Was that why
it was using the stretchy snake thing?
It tried to peel the snake thing off its limb. And failed. It was too
tight and wouldn’t come off. So it tried its claw.
Those could cut everything.
Grrr?
Confusion. It wouldn’t snap. The first time anything had withstood
its claws.
“Okay, okay, stop fighting.”
Its body slid. The little one was winding in the binding snake. That
left a furrow in the ground beneath it.
There was no room left for doubt. This tiny thing was incredibly
powerful.
“Well, fine. I don’t really like doing this, but I’ll try it once, and if it
doesn’t work, I can always kill it then.”
The snake thing came off the ankyloursus’s limb. Before it could
even consider running, there was a snap and a shooting pain.
“Grahhhh!”
 Pain after pain, its arms, legs, face, belly, tail—that one didn’t
really hurt—and, when it rolled up, its back. When it flinched, a pain
shot across its snout.
It tried to fight against the pain and run, but incredible force
pinned it down. It looked and found the big one with a single paw
pinning it in place. That one paw pressed with enough force that the
ankyloursus felt like it was being pushed into the soil.
How was this even possible? How could there be two things this
much more powerful?
The pain continued without end.
Each time the snake cracked, more pain came. It was like sheets
of rain—only the thunder never stopped.
Only when it no longer had any fight left in it—only then did the
sound stop. Every part of it hurt. A hot flush. It felt like its body had
swelled to two or three times its usual size.
“You finally settled down.”
Was it destined to be eaten? That was what it had done to all its
prey.
“Right, you finally realize who’s stronger? Then let’s get going.”
The little one was baring its teeth again, but could such a small
mouth eat all of the ankyloursus? Or would it be shared with the
bigger one?
The ankyloursus had given up on life. It would likely taste quite
good.

Inside the Green Secret House, Ainz and Mare were working
together.
First, they used magic to make a table out of what looked like
obsidian. On this, they laid out a spread of food. There was also hot
soup, but to keep it warm, they intended to serve that just before
they ate. There were three glasses with ice and a bottle of soda in
the center of the table.
The Green Secret House was thoroughly ventilated, even with the
door closed, with a magical contrivance that meant sounds and
smells never made it to the outside. But if they left the door open,
that protection wouldn’t stay in effect—even if they remained cooped
up inside, when Aura returned, she’d find the smell of lunch wafting
toward her.
Scents like this traveled farther than most would expect. Ainz
knew Aura would never come back without checking her
surroundings and making sure it was safe, but if the smell reached
her, there was no guarantee it wouldn’t reach someone else. The
scent of a tantalizing meal wafting through the woods could alert
anyone paying attention that an intelligent being was out there
somewhere.
The dark elves themselves did not have animalistic noses. But
this world’s class builds could make that sort of thing possible. Even
if the dark elf villagers couldn’t, they might have tamed beasts that
they could communicate with.
So what Ainz was up to had a decent chance of undermining all
Aura’s hard work. He was only too aware of that. Why were they
hustling about the table anyway? Ainz had put his empty skull to
work, and this was the only idea he’d come up with that allowed him
to assuage his guilt.
When Aura came home tired from work, he wanted to have a hot
meal waiting for her.
Obviously, if that resulted in wasting her efforts, it would blow up
in his face. But then he considered the issue from another angle.
All they had to do was prevent anyone else from finding them.
The concern here was that the scent would scatter in all
directions, potentially drawing unwanted attention. On the other
hand, that meant all they had to do was stop the smell from
spreading.
The easiest way to do that would be to put dishes on the table
and serve the food only once Aura was back and the door was firmly
closed. However, that would lessen the impact.
He wanted the spread laid out the moment she stepped in.
That element of surprise was critical. The whole point, even.
So he’d momentarily returned to Nazarick and asked the head
chef for a meal with a minimal olfactory signature. Then he had Mare
use a magic item to summon a wind elemental that blew the air in
the area skyward. Only when the air rose above the treetops did it
begin to truly spread out. Particles that imparted scents were heavier
than the surrounding air, but Ainz wasn’t completely confident that
principle actually held true in this world. They might not fall at all, but
even if they did, they would be considerably weakened.
But the upward draft did make the leaves rustle slightly—so little,
Ainz himself barely noticed—so if someone with sharp eyes was
watching from above, that unnatural movement might catch their
attention. However, when Ainz had flown up to scout the other day,
there had been nothing in the air but regular birds, so this was not a
major concern for him.
“Er, um, Lord Ainz. You can take this back now.”
Mare had finished his preparations and was holding out the orb
Ainz had given him.
This had been dubbed the randoment and was a top-tier magic
item. It appeared to be a clear glass orb with four lights spinning
constantly within.
Four times a day, it allowed the user to summon an elemental and
have it serve you for an hour.
It could summon fire, water, wind, and earth elementals. As well
as compound elementals—fire and earth gave lava, water and wind
gave blizzard, earth and water gave bog, fire and water gave steam,
earth and wind gave sandstorm, and fire and wind gave sirocco.
The four core elements might provide greater elementals with
levels in the low forties, common elementals in the mid-twenties, or
lesser elementals in the single digits.
If it summoned a greater elemental, it would be just the one. The
common elemental quantity was randomized but could be anywhere
from one to three. The lesser quantity was also random but would be
at least three, with an upper limit of six.
But with compounds, the greater elementals would be low fifties,
common in the low thirties, and lesser in that ten-to-fifteen range. But
all compound elementals spawned on their own.
That made it sound very useful, but unfortunately, the type of
elemental summoned was also random. And strong elementals had
far worse odds of appearing than the weak ones. Getting a greater
elemental was every bit as hard as landing a Shooting Star.
Since you couldn’t get the elemental you needed when you
needed it, it was far too unreliable in tactical situations. If you
summoned an earth elemental while flying, all you could do was
watch it fall. Mare had actually been forced to use it three times to
get a wind elemental.
“No need. You can keep it, Mare. As you’ve no doubt noticed, it’s
an odd duck. If you think you can find a use for it, all the better. If it
let the user summon superior elementals, or at least elementals with
impure and holy attributes—well, that might raise the utility, but it’s
still only usable by druids. If you don’t want it, all we can do is put it
on display in the treasury.”
It might help out a newbie in a pinch, but at Ainz’s and Mare’s
level, it couldn’t even generate a viable tank. He’d been carrying it
around in his item box with the intent of handing it off to someone
low-level.
“Y-you’re sure?”
“By all means. In your hands, it’ll be a hundred times more useful
than it would ever be gathering dust in the Treasury.”
“Th-thank you! Er, um…do you think summons with this would
count as using spells of that attribute?”
“Mm?”
“Um, I also have an item that summons elementals, but that item
requires I first cast a spell of the desired energy, either primary or
secondary.”
In other words, if Mare wanted to use that item to generate a fire
elemental, he would have to do so after casting a spell that
possessed the fire energy attribute—Fireball, for instance (although
Mare didn’t have access to that spell).
“I believe it would fulfill that condition, but it would be a good idea
to test it out when you have time.”
“O-okay, I’ll do that!”
Once, Ainz had looked into the abilities of all the NPCs—before
he fully trusted them—and he’d heard about this accessory then.
 Mare’s item would always summon a single high-level elemental,
but only once every twenty-four hours, and it only stuck around for
ten minutes. In essence, it really wasn’t worth much. There were
plenty of better items out there.
But Mare showed no interest in swapping it out of his kit because
BubblingTeapot had given it to him.
Ainz knew all the NPCs shared that sentiment.
They knew full well there was better gear out there, but the NPCs
showed no signs of changing their loadouts. If they did swap
anything, it was always for other gear they’d had from the get-go.
Naturally, if Ainz handed them something, they’d use it, but none of
them would ever voluntarily ask to change their equipment. With the
sole exception of Albedo, who had asked to borrow any number of
items for combat training purposes.
It was a kind of bondage.
That was hardly a polite way to put it, but the phrase seemed apt.
And Ainz himself—
“Er, um, is something wrong?”
Mare’s worried look pulled him back to reality. He’d been dwelling
on the futile again.
“Mm? Oh, never mind. It was nothing at all. I was just thinking
about how I would use that item in your shoes, Mare. But
summoning an elemental in advance may be the only prac—”
Outside the door, Cerberus moved.
When Ainz turned to the door, he heard it growl—all three heads
pointed the same way. Clearly a “someone’s coming” signal.
Ainz and Mare exchanged glances.
“We took care of the smells…but did someone discover us
anyway?”
“I—I doubt that, but…”
The Cerberus had not met Aura or Fenrir. But it had likely picked
up her scent from them and would not react like this.
They both followed the guard dog’s gazes. The trees made it
impossible to see anything. Mare put a hand behind his ear, trying to
pick up any aural clues.
“Oh, um, there is something coming this way.”
 “So…definitely not Aura, then?”
Aura and Fenrir would make almost no noise.
“S-sorry, I can’t say more than…than that. B-but, um. You’re right,
Lord Ainz, my sister wouldn’t make this much noise. Unless…she’s
checked the area, is certain its safe, and is deliberately making noise
to let us know she’s headed back…”
So he knew nothing.
“Oh, well. Then I’ll step out, as we planned.”
Ainz cast Perfect Unknowable and directed Cerberus to
accompany him.
Since these instructions were communicated via his mind alone,
requiring no words, the concealment spell was no detriment. But
Cerberus was unable to locate Ainz—which meant Ainz had to
position himself carefully. He didn’t want his summon knocking him
over.
Hmm, Perfect Unknowable really is great. It’s a shame the only
other guardian who can use it is Pandora’s Actor, when disguised as
me. Scrolls might make anything possible, but then we’d run into
problems with materials and time limits…
Muttering inside his mind, Ainz let Cerberus lead the way. Soon
even Ainz could hear the noises of trampled underbrush—and saw a
shadow looming.
A bear?
But this was no ordinary bear. It had six legs, and its fur looked
wet and matted. Perhaps a magical beast with a water generation
skill?
But Ainz’s gaze was drawn upward—to Aura, who was perched
on its back. She had a whip in her hands and snapped it
occasionally—each time, the bear flinched.
Fenrir was walking beside them.
…I don’t think Aura had a beast like this originally. What’s going
on?
He could always just ask. The returning party members had
noticed the Cerberus and were watching with caution—but hadn’t yet
attacked, unsure if it was a wild Cerberus or one Ainz had
summoned.
 If it was one of Ainz’s minions, his guardians could sense that, but
maybe that didn’t apply to summons.
Ainz canceled Perfect Unknowable.
“Lord Ainz!” Aura’s caution evaporated instantly. She looked
delighted. “Come on, move!”
The bear looked reluctant to approach, but Aura cracked the whip
again. It let out a squeal that made him want to protest animal abuse
as it nervously approached.
When they reached Ainz, Aura jumped off.
“Welcome back, Aura.”
“Glad to be back, Lord Ainz! I imagine you have questions, so let
me explain. This bear-type magical beast appeared to be the head
honcho in this area, so I placed it under my control. The whip
convinced it I was stronger. I’m sure I don’t need to explain why I did
that, right?”
Ainz would have preferred she did, but…well, he could imagine
that much.
“Honestly, I’m unsure how strong this creature is. But…enough
that the dark elves would fear it?”
“Oh, absolutely. I imagine at your strength, trivial creatures like
this all look the same! Um, it’s definitely not all that strong, but I
imagine a normal—I mean, the average dark elf would consider it too
dangerous to go near. From what I can tell, everyone’s been
diligently avoiding its territory. In other words, if we camp here, it’s
unlikely anyone will intrude. I recommend it!”
“Wonderful news.”
Ainz nodded.
Dominating a creature would be more useful than killing it. At this
juncture, there was no telling how much time they’d need to locate
and observe the dark elves. Killing the area boss prematurely would
change the flow of the forest, and the dark elves might well come to
investigate—leaving it alive would help prevent such unexpected
encounters.
Still—
“Aura, I do not mean to doubt your judgment, but don’t you
already have the maximum number of beasts under your command?
By dominating this creature, has a Nazarick beast been released?”
Generally speaking, that would not be a conscious decision—the
oldest tamed creature would be forcibly released. This applied to
summons or creations, as well. Yggdrasil rarely showed warning
messages or allowed players to choose which creature to free.
“Not a problem! Beast tamers are linked to the creatures under
their control, but this is different—there is no link. In other words, it
isn’t completely under my control. I just convinced it I’m far stronger.
So I can’t use any tamer skills, like buffing its abilities.”
“I see…so that makes it not completely safe, either.”
There was a chance its animal instincts would take over, and it
would suddenly attack. But he was sure Aura had taken that into
account. She must have decided no one here was at any risk of
injury. It never hurt to be sure, though.
Trying to figure out what level it was, Ainz remembered his giant
pet.
“…How’s it compare to Hamusuke?”
Aura winced.
No need to look chagrined. It’s a bear; looks alone suggest it’s
much stronger.
“Permission to speak freely?”
“Of course. I may be Hamusuke’s master but will take no offense.
Give me your unvarnished opinion.”
“In that case—if it was pure brawn against brawn, this is stronger
than Hamusuke originally was. B-but! Hamusuke can use magic,
which makes it hard to predict which of them would actually win. An
effective spell could really change the flow of battle. And Hamusuke
has the warrior class now. With armor on, she’d absolutely win the
fight.”
Ainz could only picture her rolling around, asleep. For some
reason, the death knight was with her.
He found himself mildly annoyed.
If she was just a pet, then lazing around was all fine and dandy,
and one could argue that parading around with Momon was
Hamusuke’s job. And he knew she’d worked hard to earn that
warrior class. But seeing someone goof off while everyone else was
hard at work was always frustrating.
He almost said, No need to bend over backward to defend
Hamusuke, Aura, but swallowed the words instead. He knew how
she must feel. This had little to do with Hamusuke’s actual skill.
“I see…” What else could he say? He certainly wasn’t about to
say anything nice about Hamusuke here. He moved on. “And there
just happened to be a beast of this quality here. Or are beasts like
this common in the forest? We’ll have to investigate. We didn’t come
across anything high-level on the way here, did we?”
“No. Maybe we just breezed past their territories, but I didn’t spot
anything. We might find more if we go looking, but…should we?”
“Not worth it, no. We did not come here to document the local
bestiary.”
“Understood, Lord Ainz. Exploring does sound like fun, though! I
mean, we didn’t find anything like this bear in the Tove Woodlands.
There’s a strong chance we’d find area-specific herbs or other
creatures only found here—adapted for this environment. Maybe
we’ll find parts of the forest where neat stuff is happening!”
This was a world of magic, and there were places with active
anomalies out there.
A waterfall that flowed upward, a hill with a rainbow light column
that appeared only when it hailed, a giant tornado that spawned in
the desert once every few decades—the world allegedly abounded
in extraordinary sights like these. Allegedly because, sadly, there
was nothing of the sort in the territories the Nation of Darkness had
swallowed up.
In Yggdrasil, places like that provided unique effects, rare
materials, or unusual monsters.
This principle might well hold true here—for instance, the rainbow
column was reputed to leave behind a rainbow-colored stone, as if
that light had solidified. The stories claimed it was a huge boon
during magic-item creation.
So placing these anomalies under Nation control would help to
strengthen Nazarick.
“I doubt the elves know every inch of this forest. Like you said, we
should explore it further in the future—perhaps send in our
adventurers.”
The undead Ainz created would not be able to identify a new type
of herb. At best, they could accompany the adventurers to carry their
things.
“Now, let’s head back. We’re keeping Mare waiting.”
“Okay! Oh, Lord Ainz, just to be sure—this Cerberus is your
summon?”
“Oh, naturally. It is. I called it out to serve in Fenrir’s stead.”
They began walking. Fenrir and Cerberus followed. The bear
clearly didn’t want to join them, but Aura cracked her whip, and it
start trudging along.
“…So, Aura, what are your plans for that thing? If you don’t have
it fully under control, I assume you have ways of dealing with it?”
“Yup. Mind if I take it back to Nazarick?”
“And let it roam the sixth floor?”
If it was smart enough to converse with, like Hamusuke, that was
one thing, but this had little to no intellect, and giving it free rein
seemed like a bad idea. Even a beast of this level could easily kill a
regular maid.
Naturally, they could simply tell certain NPCs to avoid the sixth
floor. But there were plant monsters living there, too. They would
need to ensure their safety.
“I wasn’t planning on letting it roam, no. But as a beast tamer, I
thought it would be worth having creatures under my control without
using my class skills. I figured this would help me experiment with
that.”
“Hmm. Well, I certainly want to help with that…”
A power impossible in Yggdrasil but achievable in this world.
They had little potential for growth in game terms so would need to
find other means of heightening their skills—so Ainz would prefer to
back Aura’s idea. Just—
“Does it have to be this beast? You couldn’t start with something
weaker? A level-one creature?”
With a beast like that, even if it did assault a regular maid, their
equipment alone would let them handle it.
“I could do that, sure,” Aura said, looking unconvinced. “If you say
so, Lord Ainz—”
“—No, I’m not saying so. I just wondered—why this bear? Do you
like bears?”
Aura spun around.
“Fen, don’t you dare,” she snapped. Then turned back facing
front. “Sorry, Lord Ainz. Seemed like Fen was about to do something
dumb.”
He looked back but spotted nothing amiss. If Aura said so, it must
be true.
“Uh, sure, no problem,” he said, eyes forward again. “So…why a
bear?”
“Well, it might not talk like Hamusuke, but it is relatively intelligent.
You know how Fen doesn’t talk but is still supersmart? Speech isn’t
really a good indicator of sentience. And smarter creatures are more
easily trained.”
True. He had maybe thought similar things while observing Fen in
action. Satoru Suzuki had never once had a pet, but Fen’s
intelligence seemed far beyond what people meant by smart dog.
Arguably, that was the nature of a magical beast.
“That’s why Fen listens to Mare sometimes. So I figured, if I want
to practice training beasts, it should be a smarter one. That, or start
with a baby…”
“Which would take too much time? You’d need something that
grew quickly, like dogs do…but that might not relate to training
magical beasts.”
You needed the right kind of creature for the job. Aura’s
suggestion was starting to seem like a good one.
“Just…what about outside of Nazarick? I mean, we’ve got that
place filled with people from the kingdom, right? What about there?”
“Oh, the fake Nazarick I made? We’ve got adventurers using that,
too. Like I said, I’m not gonna let it roam free. I’ll keep it isolated until
I’m sure it’s totally trained.”
“…I suppose that’ll work.”
“Great! Thank you, Lord Ainz! I know I pushed for that one.”
She bowed her head, and he smiled.
“Not at all. Just as Albedo is doing combat training, I admire your
efforts to improve yourself. You NPCs are my—no, the pride of Ainz
Ooal Gown.”
Aura’s eyes went wide, and she stopped in her tracks.
This made Ainz worry he’d said something wrong. He had no
memory of anything like that, but…
Did I just not notice? Was there something I said that upset her?
Did she want to be exclusively Teapot’s pride and no one else’s? Or
is she…happy? She’s not smiling. Hmm. Better to expect the worst
than assume the best.
But apologizing arbitrarily would never do. That left him with only
one option.
“Oh, right. We prepared a meal in honor of your hard work. Mare
and I got it ready together. Naturally, neither of us can cook, so we
just brought it here from Nazarick.”
That’s right—he changed the subject.
He then let out a laugh, one eye on Aura’s reaction.
Mm? She’s not angry? That might be a fake smile, or just
humoring me, but it is a smile.
Aura’s smile looked genuine. Maybe she was just happy to hear
food was ready. Or happy to have Ainz praise her.
Either way, I should praise the NPCs more.
That was a solemn vow. Gratitude left unspoken would never be
understood. If you took it for granted, your wife’s frustrations would
pile on without your ever realizing it—someone in the guild had said
as much, their voice extremely dead.
Was it Touch?
He was still trying to remember when the Green Secret House
came into view. As they reached the door, it opened from the inside
—Mare had been keeping an eye on things.
“A-Aura, welcome back.”
“Good to be here!”
They could see the table laid out behind him. Aura’s gaze ran
over it. Ainz grew nervous.
“Wow, that looks great!”
Aura was beaming, and Ainz was greatly relieved. He had feared
she might be all, Awww, I wanted katsudon… He knew perfectly well
she would never do that but couldn’t quite shake the thought. It was
very rare for him to eat with anyone, and he worried he was growing
increasingly oblivious to people’s tastes.
“Well, I’m sure the head chef will be delighted to hear that. We
have some for Fenrir, too, but…”
There was a giant slab of meat for Fenrir on a stump near their
base. A cow raised as livestock, freshly killed and dripping with
blood. The ranch itself was a ways from Nazarick, and they were
allowed to graze freely on the open fields.
According to the head chef, “This breed tastes better on a diet of
grains, not grass.” His influence was strong, or others agreed with
him—this meat had not proven popular within Nazarick.
Perhaps they should stop letting them roam and raise them to
taste right. But they lacked the hands for it. Few among those
forcibly evicted to create E-Rantel’s subhuman district—as it was
usually known—had the skills to raise livestock, and if they had,
they’d been sent to the outlying villages. Still, the people fussing
about the flavor were perfectly happy eating magical beasts instead.
“…Do we need anything for the new one?”
“It doesn’t need anything. It ate just before it met me. And not
feeding it until it’s convinced I’m in charge and it has to obey is one
training technique.”
“I see… Well, I get how that would work. Humans are also much
more malleable if we’ve driven them into a corner.”
As they spoke, all three filed into the Green Secret House.
“Go on, eat,” Aura said as she crossed the threshold. Fenrir had
been restraining himself, but now he tore into the meat. The bear
merely watched. The way its shoulders slumped was distinctly
human—Aura was right, it did seem rather intelligent.
The Cerberus did not require food. No use giving anything to
summoned beasts. Food that gave buffs might take hold, but there
was certainly no need to attempt that now. Ainz sensed the Cerberus
was going, For real, though? Bullying is not cool, bro! I’m staaarving!
but chalked it up to his imagination.
They took their places at the table.
“Dig in!”
 The twins thanked him. Naturally, Ainz ate nothing. Aura took the
first bite.
“Lord Ainz! It’s so good!”
Mare was nodding in agreement. They were both smiling.
“Glad to hear it. I’ll tell the head chef. Keep eating as you listen,
but Aura’s inspection suggests this area will work as our base of
operations. We’ll have to choose a proper location for the Green
Secret House and move it there, and when that’s done, make moves
to locate the dark elf village.”
They’d both stopped eating and were listening intently. True,
Satoru Suzuki would never have dared eat while his boss talked
business.
“Then we’ll establish friendly relations with the dark elves. I have
a plan for that—if you’ll allow it, Aura, I’d like to try a Red Ogre Cried
strat.”
Ainz grinned. This was a craven plan his old friends had named
and carried out. He’d planned to summon a monster for it, but Aura
had brought in a better beast. If she’d allow its use, the plan was
guaranteed.
Since it wasn’t yet fully in her control, it might disrupt things—but
that would just ensure they took it seriously.
Monster acting skills varied wildly—he wasn’t sure if it was by
species or individual. The Evil Lord Wrath had awed the crowds, but
Shizu claimed the circlet’s performance was rank.
He’d intended to hide their identities and strength, but this would
ingratiate them faster. If they had all the time in the world, other
means might have been available, but with the Theocracy around,
they didn’t have that luxury.
“An ogre named Clyde? Or…Lord Ainz, what kind of strategy is
this?” Aura asked.
Ainz’s grin broadened. This was one of many schemes his guild
pals had taught him.
The name came from something, but he’d never asked what. But
the plan itself, he could explain—he had firsthand knowledge of it.
He was about to—
“Oh! Like the legend of the red oni! I read a book about that!”
 For the first time, Ainz connected the dots. His jaw closed, and he
turned his gaze to the rafters above.
If the blue expanse had stretched out above, perhaps that would
have spared him from the agony of having his ignorance turned back
in his face by a mere child. Reminded him that he was but a small
cog in a vast world.
But all he could see was the ceiling of the Green Secret House.
Not a particularly stimulating sight.
Mare beamed up at him, the picture of innocence.
There was a slight chance the boy had jumped to conclusions.
“…Mare, very impressive. I’ve never read that story. This red oni
cries?”
“It does! And based on what happens—I see why we need a
bear!”
Mm. He was almost certainly right.
Ainz gave up the fight.
“…Yes, you know your stuff, Mare.”
He smiled at them both.
Chapter 3 | Aura’s Toughest Task
 1

The dark elf village in the great forest was much like any other elf
village.
It was worth noting that the race known as the wild elves had
once been regular elves. But after they migrated to the open prairie
and adapted to their new lives, it fundamentally changed their culture
and physiques. Now everyone considered them a separate species
entirely.
What about the dark elves? They had always been part of the
same race, so by living in the same forest as regular elves, they had
experienced no serious physical or magical changes. There had
never been any major cultural differences, and their lives also
revolved around elf trees. Like the rest of their kind, dark elves
mostly took ranger or druid classes.
The only real difference was the color of their skin and a minor
custom involving animal deterrents.
The dark elf village used odors to keep the beasts at bay. This
was precious knowledge from before they moved to this forest—
knowledge taught to them by the treants and other woodland
dwellers. This involved planting strongly scented herbs around the
village, scattering potions that animals loathed, and using druid
spells—spells of limited range and duration that took a considerable
portion of their ability to cast.
These techniques proved applicable in the dense forest they now
called home, and the dark elf village was safer than just about
anywhere in the region save the capital itself.
 The other elves knew nothing of this. If the knowledge spread, the
odor’s effectiveness would be diminished. Animals—magical or
otherwise—may seem dumb at a glance, but that was far from the
truth. If they learned that prey always lay beyond that unpleasant
odor, these same techniques would put the whole village at risk. For
that reason, the dark elves could not share this knowledge with their
distant relatives, however cordial their relations were otherwise.
But on that fateful day, their much-vaunted safety proved to be
but thin ice.

In the distance, the roar of a wild thing echoed.

This alone was an everyday occurrence in the forest. At the break
of dawn or deep into the night, they were rarely spared these bestial
bellows.
There were tiny creatures capable of unleashing the most
prodigious sounds. Hearing yet one more would not normally be
cause for concern.
True, howls could be terrifying. There were magic beasts that
could enhance their roars in all manner of ways and leave their
victims quivering in fear. Other times it would provoke mindless
panic, making them too afraid to fight or even render them
unconscious.
But when the source of those cries was far away, these afflictions
were no threat. A single distant howl suggested no danger; it was
simply a part of the ambient sounds of nature.
But this time, one dark elf put the village on high alert.
He was of ordinary height for his kind, but his limbs were lithe,
and his movements were polished in a way that conveyed the power
contained within—it gave him the impression of being larger than he
actually was.
His even features and chill disposition were considered quite
attractive among the village ladies. Every dark elf in the forest knew
this man. He was an experienced ranger and carried the Blueberry
name—one of the original thirteen clans, central figures in the great
migration.
 Blueberry Egnia held a dark elf–style composite bow, one of the
scant few the village owned.
When the Becoa bloomed—an event that came once every three
years—the village held an archery contest, and only those who
achieved truly impressive results were allowed to carry these bows.
Dark elf fighters gathered swiftly in response to Egnia’s call. They
were not members of an organized militia, merely rangers not
currently out on a hunt.
Surrounded by dubious looks, Egnia’s ears twitched as he studied
distant sounds.
“I called you here for one good reason—that howl,” he said, his
voice tense. “I’ve heard it before. It’s the roar of an ursus. An adult,
fully grown.”
He felt a ripple of tension run through the crowd.
As it should. Not a dark elf in this forest, not even the youngest
children, could claim to not know of this beast and the threat it
posed.
There were any number of dangerous monsters around this
village, but the ankyloursus stood at the very top.
An ursus cub was one thing, but challenging a fully grown adult
was tantamount to suicide. Arrows bounced off its natural armor, and
one swipe of its claws could cleave a dark elf in two. And given the
discrepancy in raw physical power, they stood little chance of fleeing
successfully. A truly terrifying creature.
“…I heard the roar myself, but how can you be sure it was an
ursus? Couldn’t you be mistaken?” a woman asked, frowning.
She was one of three adjutants to the hunt master and a ranger
who also wielded a composite bow. Yet, her ears had been unable to
discern what species had roared in the distance.
And there were creatures—like the adorable-looking howling bird
—with skills that let them imitate the cries of all manner of monsters.
Skills like that were not uncommon in this forest.
That made it difficult to hear a distant cry and speak with any
authority about what creature was behind it. Her doubt was entirely
reasonable. But Egnia was the best ranger in the village. Not just by
his skill with a bow but by his honed senses and his knack for taking
what they picked up and extrapolating accurately. The woman’s
question was less rooted in a lack of trust than a faint hope that this
was simply not true.
“Sadly, I’m quite sure. The way that bellow makes your hairs
stand on end and threatens to overwhelm you—it is not a sound one
simply forgets, no matter how much time passes. It lingers in the
crevices of my ears. I will never forget it.”
The next to speak was the hunt master himself.
Power in this village was held by the council of elders and the
masters of the hunt, apothecary, and ritual. There were three elders
on the council, so he was one of six village leaders.
Yet, his hands held no composite bow. His area of expertise
leaned toward trapping, but even with that in mind, his overall skills
paled in comparison to Egnia’s. Still, he was undoubtedly a highly
skilled ranger, and though younger than Egnia, he was composed
and well suited for his role.
“If a grown ursus is howling, are we assuming something
wandered into its territory?”
Howls were generally reserved for calling out powerful foes or
rivals of their own species. Perhaps marking a victory or announcing
their location. Or maybe simply a mating call. Whatever the cause,
the guess that its domain had been violated was a sound one.
Ankyloursi were territorial creatures. Their domains widened as
they grew, but they rarely sought to relocate. It was almost unheard
of for them to hunt outside their territory. Much more likely that
something had come to them.
“Ugh, what a nightmare,” the hunt master grumbled. “I dunno
what monster stumbled in, but let’s hope they get themselves eaten
and peace is restored.”
The dark elves all nodded. Egnia managed a strained smile.
By their nature, an ankyloursus left undisturbed would help keep
the forest threat level below a certain threshold. Everyone knew this.
“I agree with you there, but we can’t be sure that’s what
happened. The last time I heard one howl, it turned out to be two of
them fighting. And that battle raged far outside their territory.”
“Um, sorry, Egnia, mind if ask something? I could barely hear it,
but if you say it was an ursus, I’m sure it was. But its territory must
be pretty far away, right? Why call this gathering?”
The speaker was the youngest man here, but he was hardly the
only one wondering.
“Mm, I don’t know what’s going on with this ursus, but something
clearly is happening. It might end up changing its territory, or a
different ursus will stake a claim to it—maybe something worse.
Like…hmm.”
He took a deep breath.
“Even if the ursus wins, if the intruder’s strong enough to get
away, it might come running right at us. In other words, we need to
be prepared for anything—and maybe tomorrow we should send a
party in that direction to see what’s up.”
That made sense to everyone.
Nothing good came of missing a change in the forest or keeping
things to themselves. This was true for anyone who lived off the
forest’s bounty.
“Cancel all hunts for the day. Best stay out of the forest entirely.
We’ve got enough food stored?”
“We do. Felled a big one the other day. But best we relay this to
the ritual master quickly and have them start making fruit. No clue
how long it’ll be before safety is assured.”
“Then…yeah, better send word to the elders, too. We’ll have them
do their part to ensure everyone’s aware of what’s going on and
stays out of the woods.”
The ideas were coming out smoothly now. No one accused Egnia
of being paranoid. The forest provided, but it could also turn on them
without warning. Surviving here meant catching any hint of trouble
and taking every precaution.
Everyone had to know when the forest was dangerous.
“What about the other villages? Send word once we know more?
Or let them know something might be up right away?”
“Both sound like the right thing to do…and either could go terribly
wrong. Can we just dump that question on the elders?”
“Hold on—we oughtta make up our own minds first. If those
hardheaded fossils come out with some nonsense, a united front is
the only thing that’ll stand a chance against them.”
“…A bit harsh, there, Ganen. Sure, they ain’t always flexible, but
they speak from experience. They’re using that knowledge to pick
the path they think is safest.”
The hunt master was talking to Plum Ganen, one of his adjutants.
“They—” Ganen turned red, his mouth opening—but Egnia
clapped a hand over it.
“Enough. Remember why I called you all here. Stay on topic. You
know how dangerous an ursus can be, right?”
After making sure Ganen had shut up, Egnia let go.
He was still sighing on the inside.
I let the conflict with the elders stand—it’s not entirely a bad thing.
But they really need to learn to pick a time and a place.
“Fair. We can talk about those fossils later. Right now, we gotta
focus on the safety of the village. We can’t have everyone on
lookout.”
“Even if we’re just on high alert today, we’ll have to arrange it in
three shifts. Especially if we’re sending a party out tomorrow.”
Everyone had pulled full days’ worth of lookout shifts before, and
if they used a spell to eliminate fatigue, they’d be fine for the
expedition, too.
But even the slightest lingering sluggishness could prove fatal
near ursus territory.
“Yeah. And—”
A second howl. Everyone turned toward it, looking grim.
“…That was a lot closer, right?” someone said, voicing everyone’s
fears.
Egnia nodded once, confirming them.
“Egnia, you suggested whatever intruded on its territory might
come running this way. Could it be giving chase?”
Ankyloursi had been known to fixate on a specific prey. If a
creature they were after bolted, they were liable to leave their
territory and give chase. Howling in pursuit seemed a bit strange at a
glance, but that was a less discomfiting possibility than, say, the
ursus losing the fight and being driven out of its territory.
“In that case, if it catches up, it’ll eat its fill and our village stays
safe. If the prey comes running our way, do we shoot it down?”
“Don’t! That’ll just antagonize the ursus. Besides, we’re talking
about a creature capable of fleeing an ursus; odds are it’s pretty
dang strong. If it comes this way, we oughtta stick to shooing it
away.”
“No, wait. If the ursus gets anywhere near the village, we could be
in trouble. It might decide this is a prime feeding ground. We gotta
send a few out ahead and try and lead them both yonder.”
Opinions were flying, but they didn’t really have time for debate.
Egnia didn’t want to speak out of turn but saw a need to bring order.
He clapped his hands once, drawing everyone’s attention.
“Whatever’s going on is highly unusual. We need to act fast. If the
ursus heads home, great. If it doesn’t…say, it loses track of the prey
once it’s out of its territory”—he scanned the crowd—“if that happens
near the village, then we’re in for a very long, very bad day.”
Everyone could guess what that meant, and they pursed their
lips.
“It’s vital we recruit the help of every villager, not just those
standing here. We’re especially going to need the druids to be on
board. And the apothecary might have some poison that’s effective
against an ursus.”
Beast-type monsters like the ursus were easier to handle with
spells that inflicted psychic effects (as opposed to using physical
attacks). Their thick hides, layers of fat, and corded muscle posed a
formidable wall of flesh. But where arrows could not penetrate,
magic—like the fire elementals druids liked to summon—would do
damage on contact. They would certainly do a lot more than a bunch
of archers.
They’d likely never win a stand up-fight, but clever use of spells
had managed to eke out a victory again ursus-class monsters in the
past.
“But if we gather round and discuss it, we’ll just burn through
more time. Best we hold the reins. Or rather…” Egnia looked at the
hunt master. “Will you take charge?”
“Sigh…,” the hunt master said, shaking his head. “I guess I have
to. Right, half of you, step up security—starting with the veteran
rangers. The other half should start making the rounds, warning
everyone. When you’re done with that, guard those who can’t fight.
I’ll leave the shift assignments to you, Benelli. Ganen, you hit up the
apothecary master. Ovey, you go to the ritual master. I’ll talk to the
elders. Let’s move! Go! Go! Go!”
Just as Egnia had been about to set off, the hunt master shot him
a pointed look. They ran together.
“I’ve been thinking this awhile, but you’re the best the village has.
Shouldn’t you be the master?”
“That would just make trouble. My name—well, the family thing
means the other villages have heard of me.”
“That’s an understatement.”
Egnia ignored that. “That would just widen the rift between
villages.”
“Ugh, what a headache. Think it would make a difference if the
elders would back off a little?”
“Absolutely not. Nothing is ever going to make a difference. Every
elder could up and retire, and things would still keep getting worse.
Arguably, them being hardheaded has kept things in line.”
“How do we fix it?”
“We don’t. Not until something serious happens.”
That shut the hunt master up.
“I’ll lead the defense. The rest is yours.”
“Yeah, I’m counting on you.”
They split up, and Egnia took his place on the bridge nearest the
howl. He watched as word spread rapidly through the village—not
just because the rangers were looping people in but because this
village was used to monster threats and knew how to get news to
everyone quickly.
Inside of ten minutes, the ritual master was leading efforts to
make more food with magic, and the apothecary master was putting
a powerful poison and the antidote in Egnia’s hands.
Time passed slowly. Everyone was on edge.
No more ursus howls. The rangers were starting to relax—Egnia
included. His shoulders sagged, and he loosened his grip on the
bow.
 Maybe it caught its prey. Maybe it simply gave up and went home.
The hunt master joined him.
“We’ll need to scout its territory just to be sure. You up to it?”
“I figured that job would come my way. On it.”
Egnia was already working on a plan of action.
His eyes were locked in the direction of the ursus’s territory, like
the beast itself stood before him—and then he thought he glimpsed
something through the trees.
“Chee-chee!”
His lips quivered, mimicking a bird cry. This was no ordinary
sound—a class he’d raised allowed him to generate a noise that
instantly alerted all allies in earshot. No one in range could be caught
off guard or flat-footed now.
No trace of relaxation remained.
Feeling their eyes on him, Egnia’s gaze never waved. He jerked
his chin toward the shadow.
He hoped it had been a trick of his eyes.
He hoped he was jumping at shadows.
He hoped it was all a big mistake.
It had been a fleeting glimpse. Dozens of massive trees had
somehow swayed just enough for his gaze to penetrate that far back.
It could very well have been his imagination. But he was a highly
skilled ranger, he had very good eyes, and his hopes were soon
dashed.
“…An ankyloursus.”
The word spilled from someone’s lips, echoing loud in every ear.
They could all see it now.
That massive bulk lumbering through the trees.
The forest destroyer—an ankyloursus.
But—
“Y-yo, Blueberry! They…aren’t that big, right? Do ursi get this
big?!”
The young ranger swallowed hard.
There were trees in the way, and it was still far out, so they
couldn’t make out the full scale of it. But the trees themselves were a
point of comparison. It was too big. Too massive.
 “…Sumomo, the ursus I saw was not this big. It wasn’t fully
grown. This one could have grown faster or be a rare specimen or—”
Egnia’s voice broke. “It’s a lord.”
A shiver ran through the air.
If a monster was larger than normal, had visual differences like
unusual fur color, or had access to unexpected skills, the village
called it a rare specimen. But some managed to evolve into far more
powerful creatures, becoming the pinnacle of their species—and
occasionally their combat prowess would change everything. For
that reason, these individuals were referred to as lords.
If this ankyloursus really was a lord, then it was far stronger than
a typical one.
A normal ankyloursus would be bad enough, but if the whole
village banded together, they might be able to fend it off. If they were
dealing with a lord, then any conventional tactics would get them all
killed.
“No! I mean, I heard there was a lord, but it was supposed to be
way to the north!” The ranger was leaning forward, desperation
evident, but keeping his voice low, for fear of antagonizing the ursus.
“What’s happened to Aju?”
Aju was another dark elf village, with a lord living nearby. Lords
were not that common, so this was likely the Aju lord.
“Think it took ’em out?”
If a lord shifted its territory and moved toward their village,
someone in Aju should have come to warn them. But no one had.
Yet, here stood the lord.
A silence settled over them. Beyond where they’d heard that first
howl—was Aju itself.
If it already fed there, then it knows we’re prey. It tracked our
scent this far?
No one dared say it, but they were all thinking the same thing.
The tension was taking a dark turn.
Even if it had developed a taste for dark elves in Aju, it might not
yet know there was fresh meat here.
Ankyloursi were picky eaters. They could eat anything but had
clear preferences. If the dark elves suited its palate, they’d have to
abandon the village, and even then, it still might give chase. They’d
have to lead it away from the village somehow.
But there was room for doubt.
“We can’t be sure Aju’s gone,” Egnia said. Eyes turned to him.
“We’ve had an ursus living nearby ourselves—the one I spotted
years ago. If the lord came here directly from Aju, then it would have
crossed that ursus’s territory. We’d have heard two howls. I think the
ursus we already had just grew up and became a lord.”
Sure, it was possible this was Aju’s lord. If the lord and the local
ursus were of different genders, they might not have fought. Even if
the two had bumped into each other, one of them may not have
bothered roaring—likely the lord.
But whether Aju still existed was beside the point. All they could
spare a thought about now was the lord coming toward them and
what to do about it. What was their best course of action?
“Fighting a lord is suicide. We’ll have to summon some
elementals and buy time for everyone to run.”
“We can’t do that! If we’re in the woods, we’re as good as dead. If
we dump all the meat we have stored, maybe it’ll eat its fill and be
satisfied.”
“Yeah, ursi are like bears. They love honey! Spread some on and
hand it over—”
Then the earth, the air, the forest, the very cores of their bodies
shook from the force of a howl. It was no longer hidden behind any
trees.
The ankyloursus lord strode slowly toward them.
The dark elves’ breathing grew fast and shallow. Every mind went
blank. Every idea they’d had fell by the wayside.
They could feel its strength on their skins and shrank in on
themselves. And not because that howl had any psychic effect. It
hadn’t imparted any supernatural terror or exerted any mind control.
This was simply the effects of unshakable conviction that they
were up against a vastly superior life-form. The discrepancy in their
powers was far too great, and they were helpless before it.
Shit.
The dark elves were certain of the tragedy approaching and ready
to give up. But it was too soon for that.
Egnia roared.
“GO!!”
This cry was half to force himself into action.
“G-g-go where?” a girl yelped.
“Anywhere!” Egnia yelled back, like the swing of a machete.
“Y-you don’t even have a place in mind?!”
“Then who does?!”
“Don’t— Look, I got no damn clue what the right answer is here!
But we’ve gotta do something! Standing around won’t accomplish
anything! At least try one of those ideas—”
Was it trying to scare them? The ursus lord was moving awfully
slowly.
Its head was down low, sniffing the flowers around the village, as
if trying to catch a whiff of dark elves from them. The way it moved
was almost…was it weird to call it reluctant? Egnia almost felt sorry
for it. Was it injured, sick, poisoned? He almost dared hope so, but
he knew stressful situations made you want to deny the plain truth.
Should I shoot it? Not much point worrying about making it angry
now. It’s clearly coming to us. Then we should hit it first—it’s in
range. A clean shot might get everyone else going. And if it’s
focused on me, maybe I can lead it away— Wait, there must be
something…
“Oil,” Egnia whispered.
The rangers around them looked briefly puzzled but caught on
quickly.
“Right! If we drop oil on it, the fire elementals will light it right up!”
“At that size, it can’t dodge the oil easily.”
“We’ll have to summon water elementals, too, keep the flames
from spreading.”
They didn’t have much oil. It wasn’t that hard to get, but uses
were limited, so they didn’t have a large stock.
“I’ll go,” a dark elf yelled and ran off toward the center of town.
The druids manned the stash, and he’d have to brief them. If they
were still oblivious to the crisis and wasting mana on food, that would
be bad.
 Then another howl shook the air. Like the last, it proved how
outmatched they were, but their dander was up, and they didn’t let it
shake them.
“Huh,” a dark elf said, puzzled.
Egnia was not the only one boggling at this, then. Every ranger
was.
By their nature, every ankyloursus would always charge the
moment they were in sight—yet this one didn’t. If they didn’t know
better, they would’ve thought its heart wasn’t in this. Maybe once it
became a lord, its goals and behavior changed.
As they watched, it rose onto its hind legs, howling again.
Making itself look big to intimidate a foe—a common tactic with
wild animals. That made sense, but its failure to attack didn’t.
This was no mere animal. It was a magical beast, an ursus lord—
it had to be fairly smart. Yet, even with clearly inferior beings in view,
it was just threatening them.
And what was the point of all these howls?
“Uh, is this practice hunting for its young?” someone asked.
Egnia nodded. That would explain this baffling behavior.
Animal parents would take their young out on hunts and have
them watch, learning the tricks to overcome each type of prey.
Otherwise, the young would have no idea how to catch food and
starve soon after leaving the nest. Perhaps the ursus lord’s weird
behavior was an attempt to teach a hidden cub about hunting dark
elves.
“In that case, maybe we should teach it that dark elves can lay
down the hurt? Teach the kid we’re a threat? Better than it learning
we’re edible.”
“…If we kill the cub, the lord will go wild, no doubt.”
“If we give the cub the honey-covered meat…it won’t be fooled.
This is hunting practice. It wants fresh meat. But might be worth a
shot anyway?”
Suddenly, the ursus lord’s nose twitched, and it charged toward
the dark elves.
That earlier reluctance had vanished, yet Egnia still sensed no
real hostility. Instead, there was something…else. Egnia’s eyes
flicked over the ursus lord’s shoulder, sensing the desperation that
was unique to cornered beasts—
Of course there’s nothing there. For one, what could corner an
ursus lord?
“What in the world is going on?”
Egnia wasn’t the only one confused.
They couldn’t figure out what this ankyloursus lord was after.
Maybe they could never hope to understand the king of the forest,
but he’d never faced any beast where his ranger experience and
instincts were so thoroughly useless.
Confused or not, the dark elves were sprinting back along the
bridges. The ursus was charging at them, and that fact wasn’t going
anywhere. If they slowed for a second, they’d wind up in its belly.
The lord reached the base of the deserted elf tree and stood up
once more.
It was enormous.
So big, it easily reached the height of the bridge.
A massive arm swung down.
The trunk of the elf tree exploded, and the impact shook the entire
tree.
The bridges between the trees thrashed, bucking so hard, the
dark elves on them had to cling for dear life.
The outer elf trees were particularly sturdy. Spell after spell had
urged their growth, and scads of nutrients had made them as thick
as they were tall. Trees so durable, any monster attack would simply
bounce off—reduced to this, in the blink of an eye. Proof the ursus
lord was far more powerful than anything this village had ever seen.
“Damn monster…!”
“I mean, we figured as much, but holy—!”
“No time to be impressed! What now? How do we minimize
casualties?”
A single swing had been enough to make people lose hope.
Even getting grazed by that would be deadly. None of them could
do anything in the face of that power. What hope was there?
The lord just kept hitting the same spot, like a mad thing.
This was far too strange, but it didn’t seem like a spell had driven
it berserk. Was it possible the ursus had something against the tree
itself? Every now and then, it would stop, glance over at the dark
elves, and then resume its onslaught.
That doesn’t seem like something you’d teach.
He also couldn’t see any cubs.
Egnia glanced at the arrows in the quiver at his hip.
Did a dark elf take a shot at it? Is that why it’s enraged by the
sight of the elf trees?
The elf trees had no scent, but maybe that was just to the dark
elves, and monsters with superior noses—like an ankyloursus—
could detect something. In that case, abandoning the village should
be enough to keep them safe.
No, I doubt it would be that easy. All this rampaging’ll make it
hungry…and then it might follow our scent. Should we give it the
honeyed meat and pray that’s enough? The way it keeps looking at
us is unsettling. Like it’s observing our response…
And every time it glanced their way, it hit the elf tree again.
“Is it…trying to keep us here?”
“So another one can circle round behind? Why would it need to?
It’s an ursus lord!”
“If its goal is to drive us out of the village…like, into the waiting
jaws of another ursus.”
“Never heard of an ursus hunting like that, but…not like any of
this makes sense otherwise. I guess we’ve just gotta scatter in all
directions? Each of you haul some meat with you and hope it’ll settle
down while it’s eating?”
“—What else can we do?”
“Don’t give me that look. I’m not saying abandon the village. We
can always come back when the ursus is gone.”
It was a hollow attempt at placating everyone, but no one really
believed those words.
The ursus lord was still scraping away at the elf tree’s trunk like it
planned to make this its new territory.
In which case their only option would be to abandon everything
and run for their lives.
Spells could make elf trees grow rapidly. But getting to this size
did not happen overnight. Their lives revolved around these trees,
and losing them meant losing their entire livelihoods. They’d have to
hope other villages would offer them shelter until they could grow a
new grove, and who knew what sacrifices that would involve.
“Okay, let’s drop some honeyed meat on the ursus and evacuate
the village,” the hunt master said. Everyone nodded. “Sumomo,
Prune, start spreading honey on the meat. Everyone else, stay put
and make sure the lord doesn’t move farther into the village.”
Two young rangers raced off toward the pantry.
One elf tree was already wrecked, so the ursus lord moved to
another, swinging its claws—and then it stopped dead.
Before they could even wonder why, it turned.
Toward the center of town.
“Don’t let it!!”
Egnia grabbed two arrows from his quiver and nocked them. Out
of the corner of his eye, he saw the other rangers flinch and follow
suit.
He had a skill that let him shoot two shafts at once.
Both arrows struck the ursus lord’s bulk and bounced off.
Several more arrows followed.
A few hit the beast’s face or legs, bouncing harmlessly away.
Several others merely hit the dirt around the great beast. They hadn’t
missed. It might be on the move, but given the sheer size of it, it was
an easy target.
These arrows weren’t intended to do damage.
They were intended to draw its attention, buy some more time.
But the ursus lord didn’t even slow down. It barely glanced their
way.
“What the—?!”
This thing’s an apex predator! Why would it just ignore an attack
from vastly inferior creatures? Does it not realize how feeble we are?
It’s like it’s after something… Has it attacked a dark elf village
before? Does it know we’ve gathered the weak and the young in the
center of town? Is it trying to flush them out? If an ursus lord is
ignoring us and going for weaker prey, could that be because it
learned to hunt that way when it was still weak?
 If it had always hunted this way successfully, that would explain
the strange actions. Even if it had now gained the strength worthy of
a lord, it would repeat what was proven to work.
Maybe the assault on the elf tree had been designed to gather
everyone who could fight around it. That would also explain its odd
behavior.
Even that was likely just a carryover from successful earlier hunts.
But even if this speculation was right, Egnia still had only one option.
Do everything he could to avoid letting the lord reach those kids.
“After it!” the hunt master cried. There was no need—everyone
was already off the bridges, racing across the ground.
Following the bridges between the elf trees was hardly a straight
line. Down here, the ursus lord could easily reach them—but it was a
risk that had to be taken. And—
Egnia glared at the lord in front of him.
—If the lord turns and attacks us, that counts as buying time.
For an ursus of this size, running through a village—with its
densely packed elf trees—was not easily done. Its natural running
speed was far superior—but it wasn’t gaining on them. The fastest of
the dark elves—Egnia—was steadily closing in.
He could hear screams up ahead.
No one had been attacked yet.
They’d just seen the lord coming.
Damn it!
There was a “clearing” in the center of town, but not on the
ground. It was fixed to the branches of the surrounding trees, like a
tray placed in midair.
When the ursus lord reached that area, it reared up, spreading
those massive arms and bellowing once more.
This was even louder than the previous howls and more than
enough to freeze everyone to the spot. The clearing might not be on
the ground, but this beast was more than big enough to reach it.
The roar alone told every living being in earshot that this creature
was far superior—and the sheer bulk of it struck awe in the minds of
all who saw it. Those who lacked real combat skills to begin with—
trainee rangers and children—could no longer move at all.
 Egnia tossed his bow aside, leaving his hands free.
That composite bow was a dark elf treasure. Many of the
components that went into it could not be found in this forest. They’d
been gathered in the lands from whence they came. They were
running low on materials to repair it and could never make another.
Treating it like this might earn him a tongue-lashing from the elders,
but he didn’t have time to set it down gently.
“Raghhhhhhhh!”
Egnia yelled his own cry, desperate to get the lord’s attention and
trying to steady himself. He jumped onto the beast, clinging to its
side, using its hardened fur to clamber rapidly up the side.
“Grrr!”
The lord bucked and twisted, trying to fling Egnia off.
For a moment, his body floated, and the centrifugal force
threatened to tear him away—but somehow, he hung on. He
scrambled up behind the head, and it thrashed even harder.
He’d expected this. A dark elf would do the same if a bee landed
on their neck.
Clinging to the lord’s neck fur, it was all he could do to keep hold.
He wasn’t sure why it hadn’t tried rolling or simply sliced him
away with those claws, but that was a stroke of luck, and he was
grateful for it.
Endure.
A blur at the edge of his vision—the villagers, some of them
children, were standing still and watching. Suddenly furious, he
yelled, “What are you doing? Run!”
He didn’t want to speak, but he had to. And the lord reacted to the
sound, bucking even harder. An arrow flew in, trying to make it flinch.
A skilled marksman could easily avoid hitting Egnia, even in these
circumstances.
But this beast’s flesh was so thick, even Egnia’s shot hadn’t
pierced it. The new shaft failed to harm the lord at all. And if they
couldn’t even scratch the skin, the poison coating the barb would do
no good at all.
Egnia tightened his grip. He could not afford to get flung off now.
After a grueling span of time, the ursus lord finally began to slow.
All that rampaging may have worn it out, but it was still a lord. It had
endurance in spades. It would soon recover and be back in action.
Egnia’s hands felt numb. He would not weather the next wave.
This was his last shot.
One hand reached for his hip and drew a dagger.
He scrambled up within reach of the ursus’s weak spots—the
eyes and nose. The neck itself had spots without armor. But those
still had thick hide and plenty of flesh beneath. The dagger’s length
would do no real damage there.
But then Egnia’s body wafted upward.
As he’d released a hand, the ursus lord had shaken itself extra
hard. It had taken everything Egnia had to stay put at all, and with
his grip halved—he could not maintain his hold.
The world spun. He heard a scream.
Shi—
Realizing what had happened, he tossed the dagger away,
reaching for his hip—and the little pouch that hung there.
He slammed into the ground. The impact knocked the air out of
him. He couldn’t breathe.
There was pain, but the panic overwhelmed it.
Sprawled on the ground, Egnia looked up—and the ursus lord’s
eyes met his.
He couldn’t move.
The sight of the lord looming over him left him stiff as a board.
Any move could spell his doom.
He felt the beast’s breath on him. It smelled weirdly good.
Surprising—no, it was downright astonishing.
Egnia almost laughed aloud.
He didn’t think. He didn’t hesitate. His mind had long since been
made up.
Come after me. Take one bite of me, and I’ll make you swallow
this, too.
Getting eaten by an ursus lord would be a horrible way to go. It
would teach the monster that dark elves were food.
But what if he could convince it dark elves tasted bad?
He loosened the nozzle on the pouch.
 This was the poison the apothecary had handed him. Given the
ursus lord’s size, it was hardly a fatal dose.
But even if he couldn’t kill it, the poison would taste beyond foul.
When its maw yawned open, he’d stick his arm out and fling the
pouch in as hard as he could.
If it clawed him first, he was done.
Those jaws would likely claim more than just his arm.
Egnia was ready.
He’d been ready.
He’d lived for this village, and he would die for it.
This was why he’d always been stronger than the others.
Come on, do it! Lemme prove the dark elves here are gonna
make you puke!
The ursus lord looked away.
Why?!
The beast howled, its tail snapped, its arms swung, lashing out at
the elf trees all around. Like it couldn’t even see Egnia, but he knew
it had. They’d made eye contact!
“Egnia, now!”
He’d been too thrown to act, but another ranger’s cry brought him
back to his senses.
Being eaten was a fate he’d accepted—but not what he actually
wanted to happen.
But was escape possible? The ursus lord seemed to have little
interest in him, but he saw it stealing glances his way. Was it after
something else?
Is running the right choice here?
He had no idea. He couldn’t read this bear at all.
As Egnia’s confusion peaked, an arrow came out of nowhere,
striking the elf tree right before the beast’s eyes.
The snap was high, so clear it gave him goose bumps—and the
sound spread out like ripples on a pond. Every dark elf—and the
ursus lord—ceased all motion. Like cold water had been splashed in
every face.
And a cute little voice rang out.
“Um, that’s enough!”
 The world sparkled.
A dark elf child slipped out from behind an elf tree. Not one from
this village. He wasn’t sure if they were a really cute boy or a really
cute girl—no, on closer inspection, this was an astonishingly cute
girl. Before he knew it, a single word had slipped from Egnia’s lips.
“ Exquisite.”
How could any girl be so lovely? Her beauty was far beyond the
jewel-like glitter of a dewdrop falling from a leaf and catching the light
of the morning sun.
To his eye, she seemed to glow from within. Was that why the
world suddenly seemed to glitter?
The gleam of life itself wafted off her. Even at this distance, the
aroma was intoxicating.
Egnia’s nose twitched.
He was trying to fill his lungs with that scent, absorb it into his
blood, and send it to the far corners of his body.
What a fragrance! Every cell in his body was dancing with delight.
The most beautiful girl in the world, and in her hands—on which
she wore gloves, hiding her fingers from view, such a tragedy—she
held…
“Ohhh…”
…a bow of astonishing quality. The craftsmanship was beyond
compare, done not for display but for raw power, greater than
anything Egnia had ever seen. All his ranger instincts told him so.
But that was of no consequence.
The fact that the girl held a bow far larger than her frame only
served to enhance her appeal.
Everything about her was attractive.
She was radiant.
“Now, now, monster. Go away! I’m not gonna let you rampage
anymore.”
Her voice was adorable.
Far too cute.
A veritable delight.
He’d heard it a moment before but had been too distracted by her
appearance to savor it. This time, her tinkling voice finally permeated
his mind.
He let it echo back and forth, goose bumps rising and falling as it
did.
The most beautiful girl he’d ever seen poked the ursus lord in the
nose.
Why were those fingers not turned toward him?
Alas.
For shame.
Woe that those eyes were not for him.
“Grrr…”
The ursus lord growled.
It wasn’t to threaten prey—this was a growl of fear.
The lord saw the world’s most beautiful girl as a threat.
Of course it did.
Anyone who saw a girl this lovely would shrivel up at once. As if
in the presence of a goddess!
Perhaps some would assume a beast had no capacity to
appreciate aesthetics. But those were the thoughts of a fool.
Egnia refuted the very concept.
And he had the grounds to do so.
Magical beasts with great power were beautiful. It stood to reason
that a girl this beautiful must command power beyond compare.
Yes. There was absolutely nothing strange about that.
The ursus lord made to move—and Egnia’s eyes widened.
The most beautiful girl in the world already had her bow drawn.
He had not taken his eyes off her since the moment she had
graced them with her presence. He was quite sure he had not
blinked once in all that time. Yet, he had not seen her nock that
arrow.
No, why would he have?
This girl’s beauty had given birth to the world itself. This feat was
trivial in comparison.
Egnia was entirely convinced.
There was a flash—
 “Graaahhh!”

and the ursus lord screamed.

He didn’t give a damn where that arrow had gone. He wasn’t
about to take his eyes off this picture of loveliness for a single
instant.

Mouths around him were speaking.

A cacophony.
Silence! What if you talk over the exquisite beauty before me?!
All other sounds were but a distraction from her dulcet tones.
The ursus lord’s footsteps retreated.
Egnia did not care.

Shut up! If I miss her words because of you, there’ll be hell to pay!
“…Are you okay?”
The most beautiful girl in the world spoke to him.
To him. To nobody else but him.
To him!
The thrill left him stiff as a board, incapable of speech. His mind
would not budge, and he could not find any words within. He wasn’t
even breathing straight. Acting like this was rude beyond compare.
Lack of oxygen might have his thoughts in chaos, but he strained
every fiber in his being and forced out the perfect word.
“A…dor…able!”
“……Mm? Huh? …What?”
The world’s loveliest girl frowned. That expression was beyond
charming, too. He was certain she was incapable of making any
expression that wasn’t.
“S-sorry, looks like the ursus lord left Egnia too scared to speak
straight.”
“Huh.”
She spared no further words to the hunt master’s excuses. This at
least brought him somewhat back to earth, and he turned red with
shame.
“Eep! Anks…sho…!”
“……………………? Oh, thanks for shooting that arrow?”
The rangers around them caught up—this was the first thing they
should have said to the world-class beauty before them. Dark elves
began dropping down out of the trees, bowing before her grace and
expressing their humblest gratitude.
“Yeah, sure, you’re welcome.”
No.
This is all wrong.
He was not thanking her for saving him—he was thanking her for
revealing herself before them.
“Mmmph!”
“…Seriously, are you all right? Did you hit your head when you
got flung off? Better see a priest…or is a druid here? That beast
might have had some weird skill.”
“Yeah, he definitely hit his head. Better carry Egnia away.”
They put him on a stretcher made from two ropes. He felt no pain
from the fall, but it was highly likely the excitement of facing a girl this
beautiful had simply dulled it. In extreme situations, people often
forgot all about the pain they were in. So why would divine loveliness
not have the same effect?
He would rather stay by her side. Breathe the air she breathed.
But if he was obviously injured, that might cause her pain. Anyone
this adorable must have an equally kind heart. It was his duty to
avoid causing her any distress.
Egnia’s rational mind won the argument with his desires, and he
allowed himself to be carried away.
His eyes on that portrait of loveliness as she chatted with the hunt
master, he thought to himself…
My heart is beating so fast… Is this…love?!

Blueberry Egnia, 254 years old. This was the first time he had
ever fallen in love.
 2

Aura followed the dark elf—the hunt master, he’d called himself. He
was in charge of the village’s rangers, but she knew the man who’d
collapsed was stronger. So why was this man in charge instead? In
human societies, the strongest warrior was usually in charge, but…
Is it a different class? Maybe the other guy was a warrior, and this
one’s a ranger? Or is it more like the thing with Victim?
Considering the floor guardian on Nazarick’s eighth level, that
man might play some other role. Aura let it drop from her mind,
focusing on the crowd behind her.
Yup.
Still there.
A whole mass of dark elves followed along behind her and the
hunt master. The magical bear she’d sent into the village had done
no real damage. Did they have nothing better to do? Were they just
that curious? Did they always follow strangers around?
She wasn’t getting any fear or hostility from them.
Maybe they were hiding it too well for her to pick up on, but her
instincts said otherwise. For one thing, if they were that good, they’d
have dispatched a beast of that caliber before she had to step in.
…They don’t suspect a thing.
No one in the village seemed to be aware that the attack was her
doing.
Ugh, Aura thought. Why did Lord Ainz insist that no one die?
His stated goal was to have her blend into the village and
establish friendly relations no matter what.
If she’d stepped in after several deaths, they’d have been all the
more grateful. Maybe some would have said, Why didn’t you come
sooner? but anyone stupid enough to talk like that was probably
unpleasant all the time. They’d be a thorn in Aura’s—and Nazarick’s
—side, and that would tell her who should be eliminated.
Maybe she could send in another beast to make that happen.
 Hmm. I just don’t get what Lord Ainz is thinking. Given my
instructions, I think driving them further into a corner would have
made the rescue more dramatic and effective… Maybe Albedo or
Demiurge would get what he’s after?
No matter how she racked her brain, Aura couldn’t figure it out.
Naturally, no one alive could fathom the brilliance of a Supreme
Being or know their true aim. But that didn’t mean she should just
give up pondering it.
Her master hoped they would all grow. And the floor guardians
were the leaders of Nazarick—they were expected to set an example
for the others.
Hnggg… Argh… I know sometimes you kill someone and find out
you need them later, but I feel like Lord Ainz has a deeper reason
here.
Same with the monster bear.
She’d suggested killing it where the dark elves could see, and
he’d said that would be a waste—and that there was a big downside
to doing that.
Certainly, she’d never seen anything like it—the bear monster
could be super rare. And it was strong by the standards of this world.
Until they found another one this strong, she could see her master’s
point.
She’d proposed other uses for it herself, but killing it made it far
less likely anyone would suspect they were in cahoots. Even her
master had agreed!
But it seemed like he didn’t want Aura killing the beast herself.
She couldn’t get him to tell her what the big downside was and
was left wondering.
Lord Ainz is very smart, so if I just do what he says, everything
will work out, and nothing will ever go wrong, but that alone isn’t
enough, is it?
Mindlessly obeying orders was second-rate. A first-rate minion
would understand the goal and purpose behind those orders and
achieve better-than-expected results.
Albedo and Demiurge are doing just that and earning praise all
the time. I’ve gotta keep up! But…uh…maybe I shouldn’t have killed
the weak bear near this village. If I’d used that one instead, this
might have gone better.
Aura glanced at the hunt master’s back.
He hadn’t said anything in a while.
You’d think if a kid like me saved them from mortal peril, they’d
have lots of questions. I haven’t even given my name! Is this normal
for dark elves? I find that hard to believe.
It didn’t feel like he was reluctant or unwilling to speak. She didn’t
get any sort of rejection from him. She could tell from the way he
walked.
He was taking shorter steps to match her pace, so they were both
walking quite slow. If he had a grudge against her and still did
something so considerate, he’d be a man of many contradictions.
She had to assume he was just a man of few words or not used
to speaking to anyone her age.
That made him a pretty bad host, but Aura wasn’t looking to be
wined and dined, so she had no complaints. Ultimately, it was
probably her fault for not striking up a conversation with someone
friendlier.
Oh well. I guess I’d better get the ball rolling.
Maybe she should use a lead-in to warn him, but they were
almost at their destination. She got right to the point.
“You mentioned the elders, right? They didn’t come out even
when the bear was going nuts. We’re headed to see them now?”
“The bear? Is that what you call an ankyloursus where you’re
from?”
“Mm, that’s right,” Aura lied. “What should I know about these
elders?”
“Lessee—we’re headed to meet them now. If they’d come down,
we wouldn’t have to go to them, but they were busy making oil in
their elf tree.”
“Huh. How many are there?”
For the first time, he glanced over his shoulder.
“Three. Is that not the same where you’re from?”
Aura sped up a bit, walking next to him.
“I come from a city pretty far from here, and we didn’t have a
council of elders at all.”
“Ah. So not much like our little village. I heard the elves have a
city with a king. Cities are what happens when a village gets too
many people, right? Are three elders not enough anymore?”
“Huh…I dunno. My country didn’t have many dark elves at all, so I
can’t really say.”
Aura wanted information but didn’t want to offer much in turn, so
she simply shrugged.
She didn’t know how much power the elders wielded or even
what they did in this village, so she couldn’t really offer a better
answer. And small numbers didn’t necessarily mean they couldn’t
run a city—her master managed it on his own, after all.
If we had three of Lord Ainz, the whole world would be completely
under his control, and he wouldn’t even need us anymore.
While her mind was still on her master, the hunt master’s eyes
widened.
“I thought you came from the dark elf homeland.”
“Mm? No. The place I’m from doesn’t really have any dark elves
at all.”
Best not to give him any hard numbers, so she kept it vague.
“It’s mostly other races. Humans, goblins, lizardmen, orcs, all
kinds. We heard there were dark elves living in this forest and came
to check it out.”
“You don’t say…”
There was a hint of gloom in his voice she didn’t understand. She
wanted to ask about it but decided it was best not to rush—prying
wasn’t a good idea. And she’d been hoping he’d ask about that we.
“But lots of races living together? That’s a shocker.”
“Is it?”
With an absolute being at the top, no matter how many races
there were, they’d all bow their heads before that majestic existence.
A world where that didn’t happen was one that didn’t know true
might.
That was why they had to spread the word about Ainz Ooal
Gown.
Lord Ainz is the absolute ruler, and all creatures in this world
belong under his control.
The result of that would be absolute peace. Anyone who desired
that should place themselves under the control of the Supreme
Beings.
Aura felt pity for these dark elves, ignorant of her master. Like any
civilized person would when encountering an ignorant savage.
Albedo would be furious with them for not knowing, but that’s just
unreasonable. What matters is that they kneel once they do know.
But stupidity alone was not the only reason why they might know
but fail to bow.
Namely, they could already be under the thumb of someone
comparable to the Supreme Beings.
The Supreme Beings were basically gods, but sadly, that was not
their exclusive domain.
Naturally, the Supreme Beings were more divine than even their
peers. They’d turned away any and every intruder who’d attempted
to defile Nazarick, and one of them had been considered the third-
strongest individual in their world.
But the fact remained that there were others like them. That was
why the one remaining Supreme Being—Aura’s master—was always
cautious.
Lord Ainz knows that only too well, so I get why he’s worried. But
I don’t think there are any left here. Is it wrong for me to think that
while my master’s still on guard?
If there was anyone on the Supreme Beings’ level, then no matter
how cleverly they hid themselves, if they had any contact with the
outside world, they’d have gained some measure of reputation or
fame. There were figures like that mentioned in the history books.
But in the present day, they’d found nary a rumor.
This village was remote—Aura was assuming word about the
outside world had simply not reached them yet.
Demiurge thinks there’s still a risk.
He’d said the birth of the Nation of Darkness made it impossible
for them to stop other countries from realizing the true scale of their
power—and once that news spread across the continent, that was
the time to watch for the advent of another player. All floor guardians
should be constantly mindful of their master’s warnings.
And if a player did join the fray, it would likely be during the chaos
and confusion of war—in other words, that was Nazarick’s best shot
at discovering them.
“We ain’t exactly friendly with other races, but I supposed we
aren’t in open conflict, either. More like…life is tough enough as it is.
The monsters come for all of us alike, and sometimes trying to keep
ourselves safe pits us against others, but then there are times we
work together. Are there tough monsters outside the forest?”
The man’s question was probing, quietly asking if that’s how Aura
got to be so strong.
“Uh, hmm. I guess there are? They’re no match for me, though.”
The man made to respond, but before he could, Aura asked, “If you
don’t know much about the world outside, how long have you been
in these woods?”
“The elders said we came here more than three hundred years
ago, but I ain’t heard of any dark elves leaving since.”
“Three hundred years? Secondhand knowledge? That’s odd.
Weren’t you born then?”
This was the first real shift in the hunt master’s expression.
“I’m barely over two hundred,” he said.
Aura fought the urge to reexamine his face.
Two hundred? Is he lying about his age?! Or do dark elves here
count their ages differently?
But she couldn’t exactly accuse him of lying. And his tone of voice
was clearly pretty gloomy.
It probably—no, definitely—bothered him.
Aura saw no point in consoling him, but maybe doing so would
help establish good relations.
“Uh, right. Well, you’ve got a real mature…grizzled vibe going on.”
“…Forget about it. It just shows how tough forest life is.”
Aura decided to leave that one alone. If he’d convinced himself,
or was trying to, it was nicer to say nothing more.
“Hmm………in that case, have you ever considered leaving?
Coming to my country or…?”
Aura wasn’t sure what her master’s goal here was, but it couldn’t
hurt to broach the subject. She could always blow it off as stuff kids
say or a passing joke. Her master would never scold her for going off
script on something like that.
And if it was actually bad, he could just Message her.
“Might not be the worst idea…”
“You don’t sound that excited, though. My place is pretty nice! It’s
safe, and there are no monsters that might attack a dark elf. I’m sure
there’d be other hardships, but there are programs that could help. I
doubt it would be this tough.”
“Sounds like a great place. I can tell from the way you talk that it
must be nice. But it’s still a scary thought, you know? Going
somewhere new, where you’re not even sure you could live the way
you always have… Just feels like you’re better off sticking with what
you know, ya know? Maybe I’m just hunkering down.”
That was a fairly serious answer for a kid’s happy-go-lucky
question. Was he just a good guy and almost too earnest…or did he
simply have that high an opinion of her? Either way, it felt like once
she got him talking, he’d share almost anything. Aura smirked inside.
“You could always send a few people over to try it out!”
“That could work, yeah. Stay or go and how many—the elders will
play a big role in deciding what we do. But there’s plenty of people
who are bucking their ideas, too.”
“Oh? Are these elders not too popular?”
The hunt master winced.
“I got nothing against ’em personally. In here.”
They’d reached a tree—which looked exactly like every other elf
tree.
“I’m sure you know, but it’s pretty cramped inside. I’ll call them
out.” He raised his voice. “Elders! I brought our guest!”
Three dark elves emerged from a hole at the back, one at a time.
Two men and one woman.
Though called elders, they didn’t look that old. In human terms,
they’d be midthirties.
It’s hard to tell how old dark elves are just by looking. Already
blew it with this guy…he’s barely even a grown-up. But he doesn’t
look that much younger than these elders…
 While these thoughts drifted through Aura’s mind, the dark elves
following her spread out in a half circle.
“Traveler, these three are the village elders. Elders, let me
introduce you. Our guest here drove off the ursus lord. She’s from
outside the forest, from a city with many races and few dark elves.”
Aura bobbed her head. Less a bow than a nod. She thought
acting too servile would impact her future standing in the village. She
might be a child, but she’d also saved them. She wasn’t about to let
them use her age against her.
Lord Ainz said to be friendly, so it’s probably best not to be too
dominant, either.
“My name is Aura Bella Fiora. A pleasure to meet you.”
“Well met, sapling from afar Aura Bella Fiora.”
The speaker was the man in the middle, likely the one in charge.
He spoke with gravitas, but since his age wasn’t evident, it felt like
he was trying too hard to act cool.
One of the dark elves behind her muttered loud enough for
everyone to hear, “Can’t even thank the village savior? Show some
respect.”
“That’s right,” a female voice chimed in. “If they felt any gratitude,
they’d never treat her like this. They’re acting all high and mighty
’cause she’s a little girl.”
Aura frankly didn’t think the elder’s words were that out of line.
Then again, the exact same actions could seem very different
depending on your opinion of the person in question.
The main elder scowled.
“I was about to thank her! Aura Bella Fiora, you have our deepest
gratitude for saving the village and driving off the ankyloursus.”
“Yes, don’t be so impatient, young ones. There is an order to
these things,” the female elder added.
Another girl’s voice muttered, “And we’re saying you’re getting
things all backward. Growing old apparently makes your brains dry
out.”
Aura glanced at the hunt master, and he looked like his stomach
hurt. He must have been asked to pick a side before. The third elder
was making the same face. The two who’d spoken look stressed—
and the woman was glaring at everyone.
Looking at this… I’ve gotta be careful about where I stand and
think carefully before I take any action.
It seemed reasonable that both factions would be vying to get a
powerful outsider like Aura on their side. What stance could she take
that would be the most advantageous for Nazarick?
It might be best to do nothing until she’d consulted her master.
But sometimes she couldn’t afford to wait and had to make her own
decisions.
It’s so much easier if Lord Ainz just tells me what to do…
One reason he hadn’t told her what he was after was likely
because he was trying to encourage them—everyone belonging to
Ainz Ooal Gown, not just the floor guardians—to grow and be more
independent. She was expected to think for herself and act without
instruction.
But Aura found that incredibly nerve-racking.
He probably has some brilliant scheme in mind to fix things if I
screw up, but…
That didn’t mean it was acceptable to just blow it.
Acting careless because your master would clean up your mess
was nothing but a betrayal.
She was a floor guardian and had a job to do. Aura had to
consider her moves carefully and find the path that most benefited
Nazarick.
Given what she was wrestling with, it was hard for her to see the
dark elves bickering—right in front of a guest, no less—as anything
but outright stupidity.
But maybe there was an upside. Could she leverage this conflict
for anything? That might prove key to their undertakings here.
Is that what Lord Ainz is after? No, that can’t be it. We didn’t know
there was any conflict here before we arrived. But since he told me
to infiltrate and forcibly establish friendly relations…
“Um, are you trying to make me regret coming all this way?
Otherwise, could you do this while I’m not standing right here? When
I go home, I’d rather tell the other races the dark elf village was a
nice place, you know?”
 It was like she’d thrown a bucket of water on them.
No one spoke. If they had any sense of shame about their
actions, they wouldn’t want other races to know what had happened
so far.
Aura maybe felt she’d overplayed her hand. She might have
driven off that bear—the monster they called an ankyloursus—but
she was still just a kid mouthing off. She might have turned both
factions against her with that comment. But she wasn’t ready to call
this a blunder yet.
Aura was a passing traveler who’d saved the village. If they forgot
that fact, put their own failings aside, and tried to vilify her, then they
were just inconsiderate assholes. People like that were not worth
knowing. Nazarick would be better off making enemies of them.
Sure, her master had ordered her to establish friendly relations,
but he hadn’t said she had to make all the dark elves like her. She
wasn’t sure how much leeway she had here, but if there were dark
elves unfit to serve Nazarick, they were better off without them.
And if one of the factions turns on me, then I can probably turn
their opposition into my allies. That would be fine by me. I could even
try making a third faction with myself at the center.
Even if both factions turned on her, there were dark elves like the
hunt master, who she gathered belonged to neither side. Worst-case
scenario, she’d just pull them into her orbit. That would probably still
require an apology to her master, though.
“Ahem. Aura Bella Fiora, what brings you to our village?”
“Fiora’s my last name, so call me that. Um, you may have already
gathered, but we heard stories there were dark elves living out in
these woods somewhere. So I came to meet others of my kind.
There really aren’t any of us back home. If you don’t mind, I’d like to
stay here awhile.”
“By all means. Just you?”
“For now.”
“For now?”
“Mm. I’m good at moving through the woods, so I was told to go
on ahead. The plan is that—in maybe three days’ time? My brother
and uncle will join us.”
 Naturally, that uncle was her master, Ainz Ooal Gown.
“Uncle?”
“Mm. Our, uh…parents are missing.” She offered a quick apology
to BubblingTeapot. “Our uncle is the one who raised us.”
Lying made things simpler, but if someone saw through the
deception, it could create headaches later; best to keep things as
close to the truth as possible.
“Ah…well, I apologize for digging up painful memories. So that’s
why you came alone. That was only possible because you have the
power to drive off an ankyloursus—and a lord at that—all on your
own.”
Aura had been expecting more overt pity, so she blinked a bit.
But this was a forest filled with perils. Many a child would have
lost parents. That much likely didn’t rate overt gestures of sympathy.
“We certainly don’t mind your staying here. We can lend you an
elf tree if that works?”
“Yeah, please.”
“Very well then. Can someone—? Apple. Guide Fiora to a vacant
elf tree, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” the hunt master answered. “She’s in good hands. I’ll
take her to the finest elf tree in the village.”
“And when her uncle and brother arrive in three days’ time, may
we throw a banquet for them?”
“Sure! That sounds like fun!”
“Then, Fiora, would you tell us of your journey later on? And of
this country you call home, even though there are few dark elves
there. We know little of the world outside this forest—but naturally,
you need not share anything painful.”
Should she?
Aura considered it.
There was nothing to be gained from honesty or revealing who
she really was. That would certainly get attention, but she’d already
shown off her skills, so there was no need. While blabbing info
without a second’s thought would be bad, being too secretive
wouldn’t work, either. Should she lie? Stick to the truth but minimize
it? Or mix in some falsehoods?
 It would be awkward if their stories don’t match mine, so I should
check with the others and make sure we’re all on the same page.
But I can’t just say nothing. I’d prefer to deflect and say they should
ask Lord Ainz when he gets here, but they might think I’m being
shifty…
Best to avoid undue suspicion.
Until she figured out her master’s true purpose, better to leave a
friendly parting on the table.
Hmm. If he’s not sending me a Message, he wants me to figure
this out on my own. But what would he want?
“Is something wrong, Fiora?”
She must have taken too long to answer.
Aura smiled. “Oh, I just felt like my stories would be hard to
believe. My trip here and the city I’m from—I can tell you things. Like
the fairy path.”
“The fairy path?! Isn’t that just a legend?” a voice called from the
group behind her.
“…The moonlight aisle and fairy path are real.” On the sixth floor
of Nazarick, that is. “But you can’t say where they are or anything
else about them to those who aren’t chosen by the fairies.”
“Heh-heh. Sorry, Fio—no, do you mind if we call you Aura?”
The female elder’s eyes were gleaming.
Aura had the answer ready. She didn’t like the idea, but given her
master’s instructions, she had to allow it.
“Go ahead.”
“Very well, Aura. That is a lovely name.”
“Thank you.”
Aura smiled, showing no spite at all. The Supreme Beings had
given her that name, so it deserved this praise. She could never say
a word against it. But she knew it was empty flattery and felt very
little desire to prolong the conversation.
But her response seemed to satisfy the elder, who nodded
happily.
“Aura, you’re a dark elf chosen by the fairies, then. Wonderful.
There are many in this village who haven’t been chosen. As a result,
we don’t know how we arrived here from our old homes in the north.”
 The dark elves came here via the fairy path? Did it work like that?
The fairy path in Nazarick didn’t let you travel all that far. Either
they were wrong or this was an entirely different thing with the same
name.
Prying information out of them was good, but she might have
fumbled a bit. Or maybe not. She needed to learn more—
—and have Lord Ainz shower me in compliments!
In her mind’s eye, Aura clenched a fist.

Aura and the hunt master headed off toward her lodgings.
Ainz had been following her around under cover of Perfect
Unknowable. He let out a sigh of relief.
Both because there’d been no indications of a foe on their power
level and because Aura’s first contact had gone extremely well.
But he could not be sure these positive vibes were genuine.
Anyone who’d be nakedly hostile to a child from afar probably had
deeper issues. Even if visitors weren’t welcome, most people would
probably put on a smile.
It might be a needless concern, but he wanted to be sure their
reactions weren’t a performance. It would be easy enough to kidnap
an elf and charm them, but Control Amnesia and the associated
cleanup were tricky enough that this should be a last resort. Killing
was far easier.
First, Ainz wanted to probe the state of the village.
They weren’t used to changes, and everyone was abuzz with the
new guest. Everyone here was desperate to talk about Aura.
When she was away, they’d share their true feelings.
With his cloaking spell on, he could easily gather their frank
opinions.
The three elders had climbed back up their tree while the other
dark elves had scattered in all directions. The question was who to
follow, who to eavesdrop on. The crowd earlier had several children
Aura’s age—or at least Ainz thought that’s what they were, judging
from their heights.
He initially wanted to follow them and hear what they thought of
her.
But he could hear voices up the tree talking about “that girl.”
Damn it! I have to listen to the elders!
Clearly, that was the most important conversation here—though
not directly related to his goal of letting the twins make friends.
Maintaining Fly, Ainz drifted up to the tree’s entrance.
He looked inside and saw no signs of the elders. There was a
staircase in back, and their voices came from up above. He could
hear fine, but just to be sure, he flew to the top.
“How much of what she said should we believe? She made it
sound like she’d used the fairy path to travel.”
The eldest elder’s tone was a bit different now, but that was to be
expected. Ainz changed the way he spoke depending on his
company, too. It would be rather creepy not to.
This was likely how the elder spoke when among friends.
“I can’t dismiss all of it. Without the fairy paths, a child her age
could never travel alone.”
“I’m not so sure. She’s strong enough to fend off an ursus lord.”
“But that strength is the weapon’s, surely. You saw that glittering
bow! Clearly a masterwork. Perhaps the fairies gave it to her.”
The bow Aura carried was one from Ainz’s stock, and not
considered particularly impressive by Yggdrasil standards. But it
certainly had visual impact.
Maybe we should try selling them on runes.
As he considered that, they kept talking.
“How long do you think she’ll stay? I’d love to keep her.”
“I doubt that’ll happen. I bet she doesn’t stick around long after
this uncle and brother catch up. This is hardly the only dark elf
village. They might do a tour of them all, making more friends. We’re
not even sure what she’s after—maybe she is just here to meet more
of her kind. But whatever the reason is, I doubt this particular village
is important.”
“Fair enough. We’ll have to ask more about that. More
importantly, she said she wants to meet more of her kind, no? A nice
big banquet would be the perfect excuse.”
“I agree. Even if she visits other villages, I’d like ours to make the
best impression. If we all come together and make this feast a good
one—first off, we’ll have to gather food for the next three days.”
“Will the young ones refuse?”
“I doubt it. This feast is dedicated to the girl who saved us. Even
they know they need to pitch in.”
“True. And we can ask this uncle about the fairy path then. If we
demonstrate they’re welcome, perhaps his lips will loosen.”
“Let’s hope. And maybe they’ll stay!”
“…You’re getting too hung up on that. Is the idea of being chosen
by the fairies that alluring?”
“It is! Why wouldn’t it be? We—nearly all the forerunners in the
area have lost the fairy’s blessing. But if they remain here—”
“You sure you’re not just hoping to boast about it to the other
villages? If so, I’ll oppose you at every turn.”
“Oh, don’t be like that. If we knew how they obtained the fairy’s
blessing, then maybe we could figure how to get it back.”
This didn’t really sound like they were talking about fairies as a
race. More like spirits of some kind. There’d been a similar blessing
in Yggdrasil. Or did the fairies in this world have the power to confer
boons like that?
Maybe it had something to do with classes like the Seelie Court or
the Unseelie Court? If memory served, those had a skill that let them
teleport—much like the fairy path.
Might be worth having someone look into it.
He should share that info with Aura.
They kept talking as Ainz mulled this over.
“Then those whelps would finally respect us again.”
“Just don’t try and force them to talk. And when they arrive, make
sure you show her family respect. When they go back where they
came from, I don’t want them to have a bad word to say about us.”
The red lights in Ainz’s eyes—or the cavities—dimmed.
Hmm. Was approaching this village a mistake? I won’t have Aura
used as a tool for their inane conflicts.
BubblingTeapot had left the twins in his care, and he would not
allow their hearts to be broken. This female elder had already earned
his ire.
Best to avoid getting too close to the grown-ups. Let’s hope the
children here are pure of heart.
The elders had moved on to talking about the festivities now.
Confident they harbored no suspicions, Ainz cast Greater Teleport.
Once he was through, he canceled Perfect Unknowable.
“Oh, Lord Ainz! Welcome back.”
Mare had been waiting outside the Green Secret House, and he
bowed low.
“I have returned, Mare. Nothing happened here, I take it?”
An eyeball corpse was floating next to Mare—one Ainz had made
with Create Upper-Tier Undead. A quick scan of the area didn’t turn
up anything else.
“Oh, Fenrir still not back?”
“Y-yes, not yet.”
Fenrir’s job was to bring the ankyloursus back here safely.
If the dark elves had any intelligence, they’d realize that with Aura
on their side, they should really track down the bear.
Bringing it back to their base meant they’d have to pull the wool
over that search party’s eyes.
But given the ankyloursus’s bulk and lack of any concealment
skills, it had no way of covering its own tracks. Someone else would
have to find a way to hide those obvious traces.
The task had fallen to Fenrir. He had the Forestwalk skill. With the
ankyloursus on his back, he could make it home without leaving a
single footprint behind.
Naturally, Ainz could also move them with Greater Teleportation
or pick them up with Fly like Narberal did. Those approaches would
have worked fine, too.
But Ainz had been busy following Aura into the dark elf village,
gathering information. If anything had gone wrong, he’d been ready
to swoop in and help Aura get out or eliminate all enemies. That was
why Fenrir had been put in charge of ankyloursus duty.
But I guessed wrong. I assumed they’d be so desperate to take
out the ankyloursus, they’d immediately put a squad together with
Aura at the center. As is, we had plenty of time. I could have handled
the cleanup myself.
“Ah. Then we’ll just have to wait. I’m sure it’s on your mind, so let
me explain. You must know why I’m back alone. Aura’s sent no
distress signal?” Mare nodded. “There you have it. Her infiltration of
the dark elf village was a success.”
Mare and Aura had items that let them speak to each other. If
Mare had received no emergency message, then Aura was most
likely safe. Still, he couldn’t be completely sure she hadn’t been
overpowered before she could send a signal—Mare always had to
keep the worst in mind.
Worse, to aid with the infiltration, they’d changed up her
equipment. What she carried now was far inferior to her usual kit.
Aura would be far easier to kill in her current state.
Though well aware of this, he had not placed a guard on her—
because the decision was not his alone.
After discussing things with the twins, he’d agreed to let her act
as she saw fit. It was a decision that left him with a gnawing anxiety
—if Ainz had a stomach, it might have turned.
He was still wringing his hands about whether that had been the
correct decision. Was there really no better solution? Ainz could
make undead that had no corporeal form. They could have hidden
one of those somewhere!
Of course, there were two obvious advantages to leaving Aura
unguarded. First, if a crisis did crop up, Ainz could more easily
summon a monster that was tailored for the exact situation. Second
—
Away from Nazarick and its denizens, Aura can clear her mind.
Maybe now she can relax and enjoy her time among the dark elves.
And…
…maybe she would make a friend.
But at the moment, there was a critical problem standing in the
way of that.
Aura had been welcomed as the village’s savior.
He wouldn’t go so far as to say the Red Ogre Cried strat had
backfired. That had clearly been the best way to ingratiate her with
the villagers. The problem was that it had been a bit too effective.
If Satoru Suzuki had met the members of Ainz Ooal Gown in the
real world—where they were far from equals—they would’ve never
become friends. For the same reasons, if everyone saw Aura as the
hero who’d saved the village, then she and the village’s children
could hardly be considered peers.
Ainz would have to do some work to put them on the same level.
Yes—
It was his job to make it clear she was just another child.
Ainz glanced at Mare.
It wouldn’t be fair to give Aura a shot at making friends without
giving her brother one, too.
BubblingTeapot had left these two children in his care. It was
unthinkable to treat them differently.
Naturally, he knew how important it was to pay attention to their
individual natures and needs. But that didn’t mean they shouldn’t
enjoy the same opportunities.
What am I talking about? I’ve never raised children. If only there
was someone I could ask about being a dad… Nfirea’s face crossed
his mind. Not a bad choice. He’s a good father. But—
Mare posed one other problem.
It wasn’t his timid personality.
BubblingTeapot let her enthusiasm get the best of her and made
him cross-dress.
From what he’d seen of the dark elf village, nearly everyone wore
long pants. There were a few in long skirts, but they were all women.
And even those women appeared to wear long pants under the
skirts. Naturally, Ainz hadn’t gone around flipping skirts, so he
couldn’t be totally sure; maybe those were tights underneath.
Aura had explained that bare skin wasn’t a great fit for life in the
forest. Hence why women wore long pants, too.
If I attack someone under cover of Perfect Unknowable, the spell
dissipates. More accurately, it ends if I take an action that harms
someone. That leads us to a major question… Does flipping
someone’s skirt up qualify as an attack?
It had never occurred to him to wonder.
 Ainz glanced at Mare.
“Er, um, wh-what is it?”
“Oh, no, never mind.”
Have you lost it, man? What are you thinking?!
His rational mind—the part of him with the slightest shred of
sense—was furious.
Ainz knew full well this was wrong. But when there was anything
about magic he didn’t fully understand, curiosity got the better of him.
Don’t! Stop it! Don’t you dare! The very thought of peeping up
Mare’s skirt is wildly inappropriate!
If he asked, Mare would likely allow it—
Get your mind out of the gutter!
“I-is something wrong?”
“No, I just had a crazy idea. I might have to experiment with it in
the future, but not now. And probably with someone else.”
Mare looked baffled, but Ainz refused to linger on this subject any
longer.
Besides, Albedo would be a better choice than Mare. At the very
least, she would be a less inherently disturbing one.
This finally made him admit the whole thing was fundamentally
wrong and push the bundle of curiosity out of his mind.
Either way, if Mare shows up in girls’ clothes, they’ll probably think
it’s weird. There’s a chance they even shun him over it. We’ve got to
avoid that at all costs. Why did she design him this way to begin
with? No, no, this isn’t the time. Not worth thinking about now. Teapot
wanted him this way, so it would be wrong for me to contradict her. A
permanent change would be crossing a line, but a temporary one
should be fine, right? She probably wouldn’t mind if I have him stop
cross-dressing long enough to join Aura in the village. Still…
He had not expected his old friend’s predilections to cause him
this much worry.
“Um, Mare, question…”
“Yes?”
Mare looked immediately earnest.
Teapot, am I in the wrong?
A pink blob appeared in his mind. For some reason, she was
throwing him a thumbs-up. Vexing.
“Er, um…”
“…Sorry, Mare, I got lost in thought.” He had no lungs, but he let
out a long breath and looked Mare in the eye. “Mare, I’d like you to
stop cross-dressing temporarily.”
That was wholly inadequate.
Ainz knew that, so before Mare could react, he piled on more
words.
“Listen, I only mean temporarily, not forever; you know I want you
in the village backing Aura up, right? Just for the duration, I mean,
being there is basically an undercover operation and your clothes do
rather stand out; so for the sake of the mission I want you wearing
something else.”
He was talking very fast.
Mare’s gaze never wavered. Was this a why me? Aura hadn’t
been told to do anything like this.
But Ainz couldn’t bring himself to speak further.
No good excuses came to mind. Claiming that cross-dressing as
a girl was weirder than cross-dressing as a boy was totally
inconsistent. Had Teapot thought this through?
No, she definitely did this just because she liked it. She satisfied
her hobby, and that was all. She is Peroron’s sister, after all.
In which case, best to be evasive. Fortunately, Nazarick
equipment was a bit too outlandish, and he’d changed up Aura’s
gear already. He hadn’t expected that to be useful here.
“I had Aura change a few things, too, right? If her equipment was
too strong, they’d start asking questions. What do you say?”
A dirty trick. Leaving the call up to Mare is like forcing the blame
onto him.
“O-okay. I can do this, Lord Ainz!”
“You’re sure?”
“I-I’m sure. I-if it’s undercover work, I think, um, Lady
BubblingTeapot would understand.”
He could feel Mare’s love for his creator in those words—and
found himself wondering how she’d react to them.
Odds are high she’d let out a wail and apologize profusely. Or…
maybe it would be the other way around?
But this meant they could advance to the final phase of the
Friends for Aura and Mare project.
“Good. Then let’s get you kitted out and meet up with Aura.”
 3

A decent distance from the dark elf village, Aura raised a bow in her
hand. Made of metal, it was significantly bulkier than what the other
villagers used.
The bow was also longer than she was tall.
When she drew it, it creaked.
This bow belonged to the village, but even their strongest ranger
had been unable to draw it. When they watched a kid draw it like it
was nothing, their eyes shot wide—and then they all nodded.
“This wasn’t well looked after. That noise is because bits of it
have gone bad. Could be less nobody could use it than it being
unusable. Ugh, not sure about the aim, though. Will the arrow go
where I want it to?”
Aura was aiming at a magic beast known as the Gigahorn Elk.
Like the name implied, the horns were extremely oversize, but it had
Forestwalk and could easily move around the forest—and when it
charged, the destructive force it packed was devastating.
If Aura had her gaze laser focused on it, she might have
appeared like a top-class hunter—but to Ainz’s eyes, she looked just
like always—completely stress-free. Like she was about to
nonchalantly toss a pebble.
Near Aura were three rangers from the dark elf village—two male,
one female—and their reactions were quite the opposite. They were
all equally grim while hiding carefully, doing their best to stop their
prey from spotting them. Ainz had no way to tell for sure, but he
assumed they were holding their breaths and stifling their
heartbeats.
They carried bows but hadn’t raised any.
Ordinarily, everyone would fire at once to ensure their prey was
downed and to avoid a dangerous counterattack. They’d abandoned
that tactic to avoid getting in Aura’s way.
He could tell that much from their positioning alone. They were all
waiting on the ground below.
Dark elf hunters lived in fear of retaliation, so they nearly always
took positions in the relative safety of the trees above, waiting for the
right prey to appear—an ambush-centric approach to hunting. Their
current tactics were a show of faith in Aura’s skill.
Ainz was the worst at stealth in this hunting party, so naturally, he
was doing what he always did—abusing the hell out of Perfect
Unknowable. He’d used it so much lately, he was starting to worry
he’d turned into a one-trick pony. But it did make him virtually
impossible to detect, and neither prey nor dark elves had noticed him
there. He’d been following them around the whole time, but only
Aura seemed to have picked up on it.
Aura released the drawstring.
A short beat later and the Gigahorn Elk turned its head, looking
around.
The loosing of an arrow made a sound that would never be heard
in nature. Had its ears caught that somehow?
Ainz found it hard to believe.
The sound was very faint. And the target was far enough away
that it should render this feat impossible. So how had the elk
managed to react?
Coincidence was likely the best answer. Or did it have some
relevant skill? If not, perhaps it had somehow picked up on that
subtle shift in the hunter’s disposition the instant she took her shot.
Ultimately, that was nothing more than Ainz’s speculation.
Aura may have even predicted this reaction, because her shaft
struck the creature’s head as it moved, ignoring all resistance the
flesh offered and burying itself deep.
The Gigahorn Elk staggered but did not fall, despite the arrow
piercing its brain.
Great beasts—magical or otherwise—were tenacious in life.
Aura’s standard Yggdrasil bow would easily have robbed it of that
vitality, but the bow borrowed from the dark elves could not fell this
elk in a single shot.
This goes to show what a difference the right equipment and
weapons make. Aura herself seems to be refraining from using any
support skills. Those might have changed the outcome.
Despite the arrow impaling its head, the elk bounded off. Its
injuries were grave enough that the animal chose flight over fight.
But Aura had seen that coming, too. She was already loosing a
second shaft.
Shot through the head a second time, the Gigahorn Elk hit the
ground.
“There you have it.”
“Most impressive, Lady Fiora!”
She acted like it was no big deal, but the man closest to her
gasped with adoration. Plum Ganen was a hunt adjutant and the
leader of the group accompanying Aura.
His reaction was clearly genuine, and he was a considerable ally.
But not one Ainz welcomed.
This man was a bit too enthusiastic.
The glow in his eyes contained a blend of admiration, awe,
appreciation, and ardor. Ainz had seen this in the Sacred Kingdom—
it reminded him of the girl with the scary eyes after she came back to
life. And frankly, not the sort of look you gave someone who
appeared to be a much younger child.
This was their second hunt together, and he hadn’t acted like this
during the first one.
Aura had driven off the ankyloursus.
But that had simply been a display of her raw strength. From the
dark elves’ perspective, hunting skills were a different thing entirely.
The ranger who’d invited her on the hunt had been mainly curious to
see what she could do—Ainz had heard him say as much under
cover of Perfect Unknowable.
But he’d shuddered at how nimbly Aura had walked the forest,
gasped at how utterly she’d hidden herself, and gaped at the
accuracy of her shots. It was downright comical how wide his mouth
opened. Now, he was likely the most ardent of Aura’s admirers in the
village.
But given Ainz’s goals, people like him were a headache.
It made it that much harder to remind everyone she was just a
child.
 If he’d been trying to use Aura for his own goals, that would have
been easily handled. But this was quite the opposite.
Killing him should be a last resort…
“Oh, please. You can praise me later. Dress the thing first.”
“Right! As you wish, Lady Fiora! Come on, rangers!”
The others were wincing slightly at Plum’s antics. They had plenty
of respect for Aura, but Plum’s behavior was something else.
They moved in, tied ropes around the Gigahorn Elk’s legs, slung
them over a branch, and pulled it into the air, upside down. Given the
sheer size of it, this was a tall order even with three of them pulling.
Aura reached out and grabbed the end, going, “Hup!” and giving it
a tug. The beast easily lifted off the ground.
“Amazing, Lady Fiora!” Plum gushed.
Aura frowned at this.
Ainz knew why. He nodded, picturing the faces back in Nazarick.
Unwarranted praise was creepy enough, but effusive praise for
the simplest acts could also be generally uncomfortable. Almost like
they were making fun of you.
As Ainz wondered if this boiled down to a lack of real confidence
on the ranger elf’s part, the hunting party carved up the elk.
A male dark elf pointed his arm at their prey and emitted a white
mist—apparently a skill that would keep the meat chilled. As far as
Ainz knew, standard rangers had no such skill, so either this was a
druid ability or this dark elf had some other class.
They slit the elk’s throat and let the blood pool in a bowl below.
This was to prevent any pathogens present in the blood from
multiplying and to keep the meat from spoiling. Perhaps that dark
elf’s ability couldn’t cool a beast of this size without help.
The blood was also often used in cooking.
Carrying blood around would draw in carnivores, so they rarely
bled beasts when hunting on their own. Ainz had heard them
discussing this exact thing during the first hunt.
The head and organs were discarded and went into a hole they’d
dug. Normally, they would haul some of those organs back, but the
Gigahorn Elk’s meat alone was more than enough.
That was all they did here.
 The dark elves skinned their game only once they were back at
the village.
Ainz acted like he was an expert on the subject, but if anyone
asked how people did things in the rest of the world, he would’ve
promptly admitted he knew little about hunting. Maybe the way dark
elves did things was typical.
The hunting party lowered the carcass back to the ground and ran
a pole through the rope. Grunting in unison, they hefted it up. It
looked pretty heavy. Ainz wasn’t sure what the actual carcass yield
was, but it looked well over 50 percent.
Aura didn’t help with any of this. Her job was to watch the
perimeter.
Now that their catch was ready for transport, the party started
heading back to town.
Since they usually waited in ambush, it could normally take a
while to fell any prey, but thanks to Aura, they were headed back
early, more than pleased. The dark elves spent their entire lives in
this forest, but leaving the safety of the village was still nerve-
racking.
“Great work again, Lady Fiora. Another magnificent shot.”
Plum was the first to speak. This was not empty flattery—he
clearly meant every word.
“Oh? I mean, maybe it’s better than what you can do, but there’s
always someone better. Um, I’ve got fam— No, that’s too rude to
say. Anyway, trust me, there are far more impressive people out
there. Oh! In this case, not my uncle.”
“You said your uncle and brother will be here today or tomorrow.
Are they also great rangers?”
“Nope, neither one’s a ranger at all.”
“Really? I figured if they were navigating these woods without
help, they must also be highly skilled rangers. So what are they?”
“They are highly skilled. Skilled how…? Well, you’ll find out soon.
Look forward to it. And sorry—mind letting me focus on keeping
watch? I’m sure I could get away on my own, but with you all along,
spotting things a second faster could make all the difference.”
She’d probably been unsure how to describe Ainz’s and Mare’s
abilities and found a great excuse to end the conversation itself. But
how would that play with Plum?
When you were happily chatting with someone, getting shut down
—even for good reason—was hard to accept. Some people might
even turn on you.
He’s a believer, so he probably won’t do that. Then again, he
does have some authority. If he holds a grudge and starts trash-
talking her, I’ll need to have a plan in place.
Maybe her reputation could afford to take a hit or two, but he
didn’t want it dropping too hard.
But Ainz’s fears proved unfounded.
“My apologies! I should have realized.”
Plum’s head snapped down. Had he not been carrying game, he
likely would have dropped to his knees—or whatever the elf
equivalent was. These overreactions were proof he was a true
believer.
“Uh, I mean, you’re pretty good. I’d bet you’re on the ball
normally, and you’re just overrelaxed ’cause I’m with you. In a way,
it’s a sign of how much you trust me. That’s always nice. Just gotta
bear in mind that there’s a time and a place, you know?”
Sweet. That’s a good trick, doling out praise as a superior. Maybe
using her floor-guardian experience. That has to be a sign the NPCs
are growing. That’s a nice thought. Or is it something she inherited
from BubblingTeapot? An even nicer thought. It’s almost like she
lives on inside Aura.
Ainz pictured a pink blob floating behind Aura—a pretty uncanny
image, really—and a smile flitted across his unmoving features.
Like Aura suggested, the party moved on in silence, keeping a
careful watch. They reached the village without further encounters.
Only when he was sure they were on safe ground did Plum call out.
“Rejoice, everyone! Lady Fiora took down another big one!”
Ainz clicked his tongue.
He’d expected as much and knew he could do nothing to stop it.
Hunters took all the risk for the sake of the village. It was natural for
them to boast about their prey and appropriate to give credit where it
was due. And Aura was an outsider, so he was taking pains to
secure her position.
But Ainz didn’t want this kind of attention.
The villagers on the bridges above gasped at the size of the elk.
“I’ll go on home, then.”
“Okay! We’ll take it from here, Lady Fiora!”
Leaving Plum to it, Aura slipped through the gathering crowd,
heading for the quarters they’d lent her.
Ainz wanted to follow after her, but he had to keep track of any
subtle shifts in her position here. That wasn’t an option.
A few steps out, Aura turned her head, looking up to where Ainz
was floating.
She looks lonely.
He might simply be reading too much into it, but he caught a
distinct whiff of melancholy from her profile.
Some dark elves feared her, others revered her. But not one of
them acted like a friend.
She’d earned respect—not as a child traveling the world but as a
superior being. Not to repeat himself, but that position itself was not
a bad thing.
It just didn’t match his goals here.
Aura is the village’s hero, so they can’t treat her like a kid. That
makes things tricky. If the pedestal she’s on crumbles before I get
here, they might send me packing. Can’t blame them. Even if we’re
related, a latecomer won’t have the achievements Aura’s racked up.
As Ainz hovered, the dark elves gathered round. Some of them
were no bigger than Aura herself.
The meat was dressed, portioned, and passed into waiting hands.
“Help yourselves! And thank Lady Fiora for it!”
The dark elves smiled, expressing their gratitude.
Even veteran dark elf hunters didn’t always bring back prey. And
game of this quality was rare indeed. Ainz had heard as much during
his scouting missions.
The mountain of meat steadily dwindled away. Each time a piece
was taken off, Plum told them who to thank.
Again, that alone didn’t bother Ainz.
Aura had felled this beast. If they hadn’t been grateful, he
would’ve been livid. Still—
“Lady Fiora is amazing. She’s the sort of person who should lead
our village.”
“You can say that again. She not only drove off that ursus lord,
but she’s a top-class hunter. If she stays, the village is secure.”
“True, true.”
Plum had five grown dark elves gathered around him.
Their opinion of Aura was only growing. And the children were
listening—that was the problem.
“…But she’s just a child?” one man said. A man who smelled of
grass.
The faithful’s brows furrowed.
“That’s what the elders think. They’re a bunch of fossils!”
A roar of anger.
Plum had been smiling happily a moment before, but now his
words came out in a shout.
“Does growing old make you better? Of course not! Sure, you
gain some measure of experience, and some acquire improved
skills. But age alone doesn’t guarantee either! Age is a useless
metric on its own! Real skills are all that matter!”
Ainz agreed on this point.
He’d seen plenty of workplaces. Those with skills did well, and
those who didn’t would be humps their whole lives.
“Ability! That is what is most important in a world this dangerous!
Skill is the only real measure! No matter how young they might be!”
“But…isn’t Fiora a little too young?” a woman ventured.
Another faithful glared at her. “How is that different from what the
elders say? Are you one of them?”
“Wha—?”
The woman glared at the speaker. The elders clearly had few
fans among the villagers.
Honestly, they don’t seem to be doing anything that bad…
Ainz didn’t understand why the younger villagers were so
prejudiced. But he’d only been watching the village a couple of days
and hadn’t learned everything about them in that time. Maybe there
was a reason he just hadn’t figured out yet.
 “If we’re gonna banish the elders’ stupid outdated beliefs, we
need to follow a truly skilled dark elf—like Lady Fiora! Maybe we
should even appoint her our new leader!”
Stop.
Ainz winced.
That was not why he’d sent her here.
If she heard them talking, she might even agree and take over the
village on the basis that it would benefit Nazarick. That wasn’t what
Ainz wanted.
Ainz turned to the children who were watching the grown-ups
argue.
Their delight at the hunt’s bounty was gone, and they looked
nervous.
This is bad.
Ainz wanted the twins to make friends.
These weren’t like the children in the world Satoru Suzuki came
from. Nemu was a good example—the children of this world were
innocent, and curiosity alone should have made them approach Aura
by now. But from what he’d seen, not one of them had gone near
her. Aura’s reports corroborated this.
The children of this village had grown up with the peril of the
forest always looming. Perhaps that had stifled their natural curiosity.
But it was more likely they’d picked up on how the grown-ups felt
and believed she was out of their league. Aura was a child, but not
one of them. And that distance kept them apart.
If her reputation took a hit, maybe it would be easier for them to
approach Aura.
It’s hard to be friendly or get close to someone the grown-ups
admire, even if they are the same age. That might be why she
seems unapproachable. From what I’ve heard, their parents aren’t
telling them to stay away or mind their manners, which is some small
salvation…or is that also bad?
Ainz let out a sigh.
At this rate, they’d never make friends.
Guess I’ll have to step in. I can ask them myself. That won’t
guarantee the outcome…but I’ll have to hope it makes a difference.
Do all parents struggle like this?
Ainz had to wonder. The last thing he heard before casting
Greater Teleportation was—
“—And how dare you call her just Fiora! She’s Lady Fiora to you!”
 4

A dream.
This was a dream.
And I knew that.
What was that called?
Right. A lucid dream.
A dream where you know you’re dreaming.
In the dream, I was still a kid.
Taking a hard hit.
The world spinning before my eyes.
I felt no pain—this was a dream, after all.
But it still hurt.
My head throbbed, and I must have had a cut inside my mouth—
I could taste the blood.
Even though I was dreaming.
How strange.
Was this really a dream?
I spotted my hand.
Small and dirty.
Definitely a dream.
My hands aren’t that small now.
What a relief.
Just a dream.
My eyes moved.
No. I don’t wanna stand. But I have to.
I picked up the club and got to my feet.
My mother stood before me.
No expression. Like she was wearing a mask. Glaring down at
me, her eyes cold.
A club in her hands, the better to beat me with.
She swung.
Now, I could block that. But at the time, that was impossible.
 A sharp pain, and I was in the air.
Slammed into the ground—more pain.
My vision blurred.
Tears.
I found myself wondering when was the last time I cried.
My eyes moved.
My mother was speaking.
I’d lost my club again, and my eyes sought it out.
Had my mother told me to get back up?
I couldn’t.
It hurt. This was too much.
I must have whined about it.
Her expression never changed. She just slowly raised that club.
Another voice.
My eyes moved and saw a plump woman running over.
She’d helped with the housework. Made great food.
Nazul.
She’d made the best omelets. My favorite. Her cooking was
ingrained in my memories, my standard for good eating.
Sadly, she’d long since passed. I’d rather be dreaming about
eating her food than training with my mother.
Later, I’d learned other people’s mothers cooked for them, but I’d
never once had that happen. Someone said she didn’t have time for
anything but training me.
I was dumb enough to buy that back then.
But now that I was grown up, I could see that farce for what it
was.
I barely even remembered sharing a meal with her. I mostly ate
alone.

“Good morning…”
The world took on color. Was I waking up? Then let’s get that over
with.

I never once forgot.

 I knew all too well.
My mother hated me.
I was a child of rape, and she had no love for that.
She’d never once celebrated my birthday.
She gave me no blessings.
No thank-yous.
No congratulations.
Not even a good job.
Everyone else gives those freely.
Had I ever heard her speak my name?
Who named me?
If she hated me that much, why hadn’t she just killed me?
That would have been easy.
But she kept me alive.
So she must not have completely hated me.
Or was I just clinging to a forlorn hope?
“W-wait, Lady Faine. She’s still so young. Training past this point
will achieve nothing.”
My mother glared, but Nazul did not back down.
In hindsight, Nazul was made of pretty stern stuff.
“Sh-she needs a rest. I have refreshments ready…”
“We’re fine.”
“Lady Faine, while you drink, we can tend to these injuries…”
“We’re fine.”
My mother waved a hand, and all my wounds closed.
The pain was gone.
“You’re fine, right?”
My mother leaned in.
Eyes like marbles, face devoid of emotion. Sinister.
“…Mm, I’m fine.”
“See?” My mother turned back to Nazul. “…You heard her. She’s
not done yet. And I’ve already made her strong enough that she can
be brought back if she dies. See? Nothing to worry about.”
“……………As you—”
 “—Good morning. Um, Lady No Death, are you here?”
It was the faint voice of a woman—it went beyond timid and
verged on fearful. That wasn’t part of the dream. It was real.
Consciousness arrived.
The ceiling above was her own. Movement in the next room. The
fog of sleep was not yet cleared, but she sensed no hostility.
“If I must dream, let it be chaotic and wild,” she muttered. Sighing,
she pulled a hand into view. Her fingers damp—with tears? “I’m up,”
she said, louder. “Gimme a minute.”
“A-absolutely! Pray do not rush for the likes of me. I can wait as
long as it takes!”
She’d said nothing that could be construed as a threat, but the
woman took it as one. Repressing the urge to sigh again, she got up,
grabbing a robe from the chair nearby.
She knew her visitor’s voice.
With a female colleague, she need not worry about making
herself decent. And she didn’t want to make her wait out there that
long.
She opened the door, stepped out, and found the woman
standing at attention. Like she had no clue what else to do with
herself.
“—Sorry for the delay. You should have sat down, at least.”
“No, no, this hardly counts as a delay. And, um, eh-heh-heh. Lady
No Death, I cannot apologize enough for disturbing your slumber. I
hope you will forgive this trespass.”
She was forcing a smile and bobbing her head. Worse—though
likely unconscious—she was rubbing her hands together. A pathetic
bearing for one of the Theocracy’s finest, a hero of humanity, the
eleventh seat of the Black Scripture, the one they called Infinite
Mana.
“Then have a seat.”
“No, no, no, no, that won’t be necessary. I’ll be on my way the
moment I’ve said my piece. I could not sully the couch in your
room…”
Her hands were waving all over the place.
No Death could not imagine why she was being so extreme.
 “Sitting won’t do any harm, and I’d never be angry with you for it.
You…really don’t need to be so servile. We’re colleagues.”
The woman’s smile grew all the more obsequious.
“Eh-heh-heh, an insect like me is not worthy of that designation,
Lady No Death.”
“Seriously, don’t— Look, of all the Black Scripture members
who’ve sparred with me, you’re by far the most servile. And you
started out so cocky!”
The Black Scripture were heroes. And that could go to people’s
heads, make them overconfident. One of No Death–No Life’s roles
was to beat that out of them. The result was that the only Scripture
members who knew her were the ones who’d gotten arrogant.
But most Black Scripture members made that error eventually.
This woman was no exception. The captain had also survived
training with her—frankly, she regretted going too far with him—but
was now talking to her normally. This lady was the only one who
acted like this.
Maybe she’d beaten too much of her.
I’ll have to factor core personality in next time.
“Being arrogant’s a problem, but you can act like yourself.”
“Eh…eh-heh-heh. I could never do that before you, Lady No
Death.”
Her hands were rubbing faster.
No Death didn’t think she’d done anything to provoke this.
She’d just received all her spells head-on and emerged without so
much as a scratch, walked right up to her, knocked her down,
climbed on top, and then repeatedly punched her in the face. Since it
was training, she’d been careful not to kill her.
Even on her back, the woman had refused to concede,
desperately casting more spells. No Death had considered her one
of the tougher cookies. And one who clearly burned with ambition.
Her efforts had paid off, and now she could keep casting through
pain.
And that high opinion of her made this attitude all the sadder.
“…So what brings you here? I think I can guess.”
“O-oh? You are a brill—”
 “Spare me the flattery.”
“Erm. Right. The elf extermination army have made further
advances, so I’ve been sent to ask you to ready yourself, Lady No
Death.”
“Ah…”
When No Death smiled, the woman before her winced. Was her
face that frightening? This was her usual smile.
“Then I can finally get this bone out of my throat.”
Intermission

There is a creature known as the night lich, a superior form of elder

lich born from the absorption of still more mana. Throughout history,
only a handful have ever existed—a fact for which the living are
eternally grateful.
The power of a night lich is immense.
They have access to spells beyond human reach—ranging into
the ultrahigh-level spells of the sixth tier. With that power, they are a
match for even high-ranked dragons, no matter how long-lived.
Worse, they possess all manner of skills, command hordes of
undead, boast brilliant minds, and ensconce themselves within nigh-
invulnerable fortresses.
They are rulers of countries, undead kings.
There were three night liches of considerable fame.

The dragon night lich, Kuphantera Argoros.

The titan night lich, Hyaeon.
And Fear, the Shadow Lord, whose true name was unknown but
presumed to be a night lich.

Each held sway over a domain the equivalent of a small country,

terrorizing the lands around. For this reason, the race itself was a
symbol of horror, discussed in terms otherwise reserved for
creatures of myth that had wrought havoc upon the heaven and
earth.
Though a member of that terrifying species, Banejieli “The Abyss”
Anshas, had remained shrouded in darkness, unknown to the world.
And yet, here he was, bowing low as he exited a massive room.
With six arms and two heads, he had not only mastered the sixth tier
of arcane magic but the other disciplines to the same degree. He
was a fearsome creature no human could ever hope to defeat. If he
ever emerged into the light, the three night liches of infamy would
soon become the four. Instead, he had founded a clandestine
society and remained the most senior member.

He called this society The Abyssal Corpus.

They were a group of undead casters, and the original goal of this
organization had been to ensure their mutual interests did not come
into conflict.
Every manner of undead being would live eternally and, if
devoted to the study of magic, they would inevitably clash with
others of their ilk given enough time.
Lacking the three core drives of the living, undead were often
consumed by lusts of another nature—and if that undead was a
caster, then this was almost always a thirst for knowledge. When the
same knowledge was sought, it was all too easy for those conflicts to
get out of hand, resulting in all-out war that continued until one was
eliminated from this world.
Where the living divided their energies among food, sleep, and
sex, the undead were singularly focused—and that made it
impossible to dissuade them once they were committed.
Many an undead had met their end in this manner, and still more
had tried to profit off the intervening conflict only to get swept into the
chaos themselves.
Rather than attempt to monopolize knowledge and magic items in
the face of certain destruction, it was better to cooperate whenever
possible, smart to negotiate a peaceful solution. Those who
understood this had had their names added to a register.
In later days, this would be known as the Graniezzo Inscription. A
stone engraved with the names of all members—though none had
enchanted it, enchanted it became.
At the time, they’d been a loose-knit group of four night liches and
three elder liches. Their little band had a handful of rules as well as
the implicit understanding that anyone who broke them could expect
the others to dole out appropriate punishment.
Two hundred years later, they’d become a proper society, with a
solid rule book.
And more undead had joined them. An inner circle of seven but
an outer circle of forty-eight. Fifty-five members was a decent size
for any clandestine society, and the average difficulty rating of the
inner circle was around 150.
Yet, few knew they even existed.
Their membership was split between two types of undead.
One cultivated power among the living and used that to further
their own ends. The other had absolutely no contact with the living
and simply worked quietly toward their goals in the shadows of the
world.
There were few in the former group and far more in the latter. As
a result, their actions had escaped wider notice.
Gaining power in the world of the living made it that much easier
to make enemies. Since undead were seen as the enemies of the
living, it was not uncommon for multiple countries to band together
and wipe them out.
For that reason, the first type had steadily dwindled in number.
Naturally, there were those who lurked in the underworld, with none
the wiser—but not many undead had the talents that required.
The upshot was that The Abyssal Corpus remained barely more
than a tall tale. In fact, they had pointedly avoided inviting the three
night liches of infamy to maintain their low profile.
Outside the room in which IT sat was a massive corridor. To one
side, a room illuminated by dim lamps.
A waiting room for those seeking an audience with IT. Naturally,
IT would never think to prepare the like—IT was not a creature of
consideration—but Banejieli and the others had pleaded their case
and been granted permission to do what was necessary.
 A voice within called to him.
“You’re out? Then I guess it’s my turn.”
Banejieli had been waiting there prior to his audience, so he knew
who spoke without looking. Only those who’d been summoned ever
came here. Arriving unprompted would incur IT’s wrath. All those
summoned today were a part of the inner circle. Four hundred years
since the society’s founding, that circle now contained nine
members.
“The Abyss.” “Her Holiness in White.” “The Rider of Death.” “The
King of Rot.” “Lord Redeye.” “The Wise Wolf.” “The Hordes of Yore.”
“The Devourer.” “The Golden Ghoul.”
They had all been together and been called in one at a time. Now
there was but one left.
Her Holiness in White, Grazen Rocca.
A female undead with alabaster skin. She was on the cusp of
reaching the ninth tier, and Banejieli had been forced to admit she
was a finer researcher than he. She was a favorite of the one who
controlled their society.
No—
IT favors no one. IT merely stomachs us and uses us.
That much was clear from the way IT spoke.
IT did not even try to disguise it, going so far as to describe their
spells as defiled.
Thus, Grazen took no pleasure in her position.
IT merely took, providing little in return, let alone satisfaction.
Perhaps that was only worse for a researcher of real skill.
But no one dared voice these concerns before IT. Even if the
whole society banded together, they had no chance at victory.
“…Yeah, you’re up. When you’re done…can we speak? It’s been
so long.”
“…About…? Oh. Yes, yes, naturally, I’d be delighted. The usual
place?”
“Indeed. I’ll be waiting there.”
Banejieli left her there, walking through darkness. Undead
needed no light. There was little point in having one in the waiting
room. He knew not who’d added it, but it was likely purely
decorative.
Magical means had contrived to make the floor look like a single
polished board, but the walls and ceiling were rough, bored out of
the rock itself.
This colossal cavern was no natural formation. The society’s
controller had carved it himself over a considerable amount of time.
He visited this cavern only every few years—each time IT
summoned them—and each time, the thought of all that effort made
him chuckle.
Not because he was a night lich, and his skill at magic made him
contemptuous of physical means, but because it was a symbol of
IT’s cowardice—a marked contrast to the arrogance displayed
before them.
Certain he was far enough away, Banejieli cast Teleportation
twice, quickly reaching his destination.
He was outside a castle in the mountains, one belonging to Lord
Redeye—Krunui Log Entesh Na, one of the inner circle.
By far the most fastidious member, Krunui took great pride in his
appearance. His home was held to the same standard.
He had paid—in magical knowledge, magic items, or jewel-
encrusted treasures—other races to create the castle’s decor, and
even those with no eye for these things could sense its somber
gravitas. This was one reason the inner circle always gathered here.
Banejieli moved to the front gate and found one of Krunui’s
undead waiting to guide him in.
He was led to a room. Everyone else had already arrived, save
Grazen.
“I’m here.”
“IT give you a hard time?”
The speaker was the castle’s owner, Krunui.
Humanoid, pallid skin—not a naturally occurring undead but a
human who had used magic to transform himself. Perhaps that was
why he was so particular about the fineries—traces of his old life.
The others always dressed the same—bedecked in magic items that
radiated mana—but he alone wore a new suit each time. Smartly
tailored but little to no magic infused in the fabric.
 The others saw clothing as a means to strengthen themselves,
but to him it was merely decorative.
“Unless anyone objects, I thought we’d start once Grazen
arrives.”
Banejieli sat down on one of several benches, addressing his
cohorts. No one complained.
This was yet another in a long line of discussions, preparing to
rebel against IT.
Sheer strength was the only reason they’d ever accepted IT’s
control.
IT had learned of The Abyssal Corpus from someone in the outer
circle. There had been no warning before that first appearance and
initial show of force.
Rather than flee, they’d bowed their heads—believing that IT
could serve as a deterrent against the other great powers of the
world. Not in the hopes of expanding their society.
But IT was the worst kind of ruler.
The Abyssal Corpus had not been founded to overturn the order
in the continent’s center. They had no business being counted as
pawns as part of their pact.
They needed a new deterrent. That was a belief held by all in the
inner circle, those who regularly met with IT.
Ordinarily, the more people who were involved, the more likely
someone would betray them or leak information. The fact that no one
here had considered doing so proved how little loyalty IT
commanded.
Banejieli could say with confidence that no one had betrayed
them yet. The fact that they still lived proved it.
If anyone had leaked their plans, they’d have long since been
annihilated. IT controlled the society, stole their research, and made
itself stronger. IT was little more than a parasite. But it would never
deem its gains were worth allowing a little scheming.
They knew for a fact that IT would act swiftly and mercilessly.
IT had neither the tolerance nor the generosity a ruler should
have. Perhaps it was just overly cautious.
Either way, their continued survival meant IT had not yet noticed.
 Perhaps they were lucky that IT had no means to control undead.
Given ITs raw strength advantage, if IT had honed such skills, they
would’ve been helpless to resist.
We’re not going to let you feed off us forever!
Banejieli pictured the creature’s bulk and swore under his breath.
Thank you for buying this ebook, published by Yen On.

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