Chapter 4 | A Duel

 

1

The village headman’s house was right off the square. Inside, the floor was dirt. The main room was big enough to serve as a workshop, and there was an adjacent kitchen. Some shabby chairs and a table had been set in the middle of the open area.

Ainz sat in one of the chairs and looked around the room. The light coming through the latticed door banished the darkness to the shadows, so he could see fine without Night Vision. He observed the woman working in the kitchen and noted various agricultural implements. There was no machinery to be seen. He judged that science hadn’t advanced very much in this world, but realized immediately how superficial he was being. In a world with magic, how far would science even need to advance?

Ainz moved his arms, setting them lightly on the table to move them out of the sun. His gauntlets weren’t that heavy, but the table was shoddily made, so it rocked and clattered. The chair made a horrible squeaking noise under his weight whenever he moved.

Impoverished was the word for these people.

Ainz leaned his staff against the table so it wouldn’t be in the way. It sparkled in the light and, especially in this plain room, made it seem like they were in the land of mythology. He simultaneously recalled the villagers’ speechless amazement; their eyes had practically fallen out of their heads.

He was bursting with pride that the staff he and his guildmates had made caused such genuine awe. But Ainz suppressed that buoyant feeling to the level of faint happiness and furrowed his nonexistent brow.

He couldn’t force himself to enjoy the forced chill out. Granted, it would be difficult to get through this situation feeling giddy. With all of this on his mind, Ainz prepared himself to use his brain—they were about to start negotiating the price of the rescue.

Of course, Ainz’s aim was information, not monetary compensation. But just saying, “Please give me information,” would be terribly shady.

In a village this small, it probably didn’t matter, but if more people—especially those in positions of authority—interacted with him and realized he knew nothing about the world, it could be used against him.

Am I being overly cautious? he wondered, but this was like trying to cross the street by just running into it—at some point he’d get in a fatal accident. That fatal accident would be a collision with someone stronger than him.

Ainz was stronger than anyone he’d met in this village, but that didn’t mean he’d be stronger than anyone in this world. And he was an undead. He’d gotten a pretty good idea of the standing of undead here from the way the girls had reacted. Humans would revile him, and he stood a good chance of being attacked. He couldn’t be too careful.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” The village headman sat in the seat opposite Ainz. His wife stood behind him.

The headman was tan with deep wrinkles. He had a brawny physique, and it was clear from one look that it’d been built by hard labor. Much of his hair had gone white—almost half of his head. His cotton clothes were dirty, but he didn’t smell. Judging by the look of deep exhaustion on his face, he was probably in his late forties, but it was hard to tell—it seemed like he’d aged considerably in the past hour or so.

His wife was probably around the same age. Ainz got the feeling she’d been a trim beauty at one point, but hard work in the fields had worn most of her charm away. Spots had appeared on her face, and all that was left was a thin old lady. Her shoulder-length black hair was messy, and although her skin was tanned from the sun, she had a gloomy air about her.

“Here you go.” She placed a shabby cup on the table. The reason there wasn’t any for Albedo was simply because Ainz had had her go check out the village.

He refused the steaming water with a raised hand. He wasn’t thirsty and he couldn’t take off the mask, anyway. After seeing how much work went into it, though, he felt bad for not declining in advance.

Making hot water was hard work. First, she had to use a flint to make a spark. Then, she had to arrange thinly sliced wood chips to make a fire. From there, she moved it to the earthen oven to build the flames up. It took quite a while to heat the water.

In some sense, it was interesting for Ainz to see how water was boiled by hand without electricity—he’d never witnessed it before. In the past in his world, people used to cook with gas or something; he imagined it must have taken about the same amount of labor. I should take this opportunity to learn about their technology, too.

He turned back to the headman and his wife. “I’m sorry I put you to so much trouble…”

“N-not at all. No need to bow.” The both of them were flustered at Ainz’s politeness. They probably never imagined the one who had been ordering the death knight around up until a bit ago would bow his head to them.

For Ainz it was nothing strange. It was only natural to behave amicably with the people one was about to negotiate with.

Of course, he could always use some magic like Charm Person to get info out of them and then manipulate their memories with an elite spell as he had with the two sisters, but he wanted to save that for a last resort. In any case, it would cost a ton of magic points (MP).

Even now there was a heavy, leaden feeling at his core. Even just to overwrite a couple minutes of memory to make it so he had been wearing the mask and gauntlets from the beginning seemed to have cost quite a lot of MP. It was a serious loss.

“Well, then, shall we skip the formalities and get down to business?”

“Yes, but before that… Thank you so much!” The headman bowed his head so aggressively Ainz thought he would whack the table. A beat later his wife followed with her thanks and a bow.

“If you hadn’t come, we would have all been killed! We are so grateful!”

Ainz was startled by the depth of their gratitude. I’ve never been thanked so profusely in my whole life. Well, the two sisters before thanked me the same way, but… Ah, I guess I had never saved someone’s life before, so it makes sense…

The vestige of Satoru Suzuki, the man he’d once been, was a bit self-conscious in the face of their genuine thanks, but he couldn’t say it felt bad.

“Please raise your heads. As I mentioned before, you don’t need to worry about it. I did it expecting something in return.”

“Of course, we understand. But please, still, allow us to thank you. It’s thanks to you that so many of us were saved.”

“Well, then, padding my fee a bit will suffice. Shall we begin the negotiations? As headman, you must be very busy.”

“There’s no one who deserves my time more than the one who saved our lives, but yes, let’s begin.”

Watching the headman slowly raise his head, Ainz got the gears in his brain moving. He had to get the information he required through conversation alone, without relying on magic.

What a pain. I was trained as a businessman, but I wonder how effective my techniques will be. He made up his mind and began to speak, feeling half like whatever would happen would happen.

“To get right to the point, how much can you offer?”

“We have nothing to hide from you to whom we are so indebted. I’d have to check to see how much silver and copper we can come up with, but for copper it would probably be about three thousand pieces.”

I have no idea how much that is! Ainz shouted in his head.

He had asked in entirely the wrong way. He ought to have taken a different approach. He’d been a horrible businessman in his former life, after all, so of course his technique was horrible.

The number of coins sounded high, but he couldn’t just accept without knowing their value. Accepting too low of a sum or overcharging would stand out too much and had to be avoided. I guess I should just be glad they didn’t offer four cows or something.

Just as he was about to get depressed, his mood stabilized. Thankful for his undead body, he consoled himself by considering that he’d learned at least one thing: Silver and copper pieces were the currency circulated in villages. He wanted to know what other denominations there were, but he wasn’t confident he could lead the conversation in that direction.

The bigger issue was the monetary value of a copper piece. He would run into a lot of trouble from here on out if he didn’t know it. Not knowing the value of the currency would make him stick out way too much. He wanted to stay on the down low as much as possible while he was still clueless about the world, so he furiously spun his brain’s gears, even just to avoid any more mistakes.

“Carrying so much small change would be a burden, so would it be possible to make it a little more compact?”

“My apologies. If I could, I’d like to pay you in gold pieces, but…we don’t really use them in this village, so…”

Ainz suppressed a relieved sigh. This was just the chance he’d been looking for. Now he just had to think how to take it. He felt like his head might start steaming from the effort.

“Then how about this: I’ll buy some of this village’s goods at a reasonable price, and then you can pay me with the coins I give you.” Ainz surreptitiously opened his item box beneath his robe and picked up two of Yggdrasil’s gold coins. One featured the relief of a woman’s profile, and the other, a man’s. The former was currency that came into use after the huge update, “The Fall of Valkyria,” and the latter, naturally, was the old kind. Monetarily they were both the same value, but he was more attached to one of them.

The old currency had been with him since he’d started playing; they had used it when they formed Ainz Ooal Gown and for most of the time the guild had existed. When the update was released, the guild was in its heyday and he’d already collected pretty much all of the gear he wanted, so he’d been just throwing the new coins into his item box.

The handful of coins that appeared in the air the first time he’d gone hunting as a skeleton mage, the mountain of coins he got when he snuck into a dungeon solo and frantically fought off all the active mobs that attacked him, the golden sparkle when he sold data crystals acquired in a successful raid with the guild…

He dismissed the nostalgia—but put away the old coin and took out the new one. “If I wanted to shop with this, about how much would it be worth?”

“Th-this is…?”

“It’s a coin from a far-off—truly distant—country. Can I not use it here?”

“I think you can… One moment, please.”

Feeling relieved to hear as much, he watched as the headman stood up and brought something over from the back of the room. Ainz had seen one once in a history book: a money changer’s scale.

From then on it was the headman’s wife’s job. She first held the gold coin up to a disc-shaped object, seeming to compare sizes. Once she was satisfied with those results, she placed it on one side of the balance and put a weight on the other side. He had the feeling she said something about currency by weight.

Ainz rummaged around in his memory to guess the significance of what she was doing. First, she must have compared it to this country’s currency for size, and now she must be checking it for content. His gold coin was lower than the weight. She added another weight to balance them out.

“It’s as heavy as about two of our gold coins. E-err, do you mind if I make a slight scratch on the sur—?”

“Bah! Don’t be rude! My most humble apologies. My wife has been most—”

“It doesn’t bother me. You can destroy it if you like, but if the inside turns out to be solid gold, then you’ll have to buy it from me…”

“N-no, I’m sorry.” The headman’s wife bowed and returned the coin.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s a matter of course when considering a deal with someone. So, what do you think about that gold piece? That relief is gorgeous, right? A work of art!”

“Yes, it’s quite beautiful. What country is it from?”

“It’s from a country that no longer exists.”

“Oh, I see…”

“So it’s worth two of yours, hm? But considering the artistic value, I would think it could be appraised a bit more highly. How about it?”

“That may be… However, we aren’t merchants, so it’s difficult for us to assess artistic value…”

“Ha-ha-ha. Indeed, I see. So then if I shop with this coin, we’ll say it’s worth two of those, all right?”

“O-of course.”

“Very well. It so happens I have several of these coins, so I wonder what amount of goods you’ll be able to sell. Of course, I will pay a fair price. You can charge me the same as you charge anyone in the village. Please take your time in investigating the matter.”

“Lord Ainz Ooal Gown!” The suddenness of the headman’s voice practically gave Ainz’s nonexistent heart palpitations. His earnest expression was firmer and more striking than before.

“…Ainz is fine.”

“Lord Ainz?” He seemed puzzled for a moment, but then quickly nodded a few times before continuing. “I understand just what you mean, Lord Ainz.”

Ainz imagined a big question mark popping up over his head. He had a feeling there was some kind of misunderstanding, but since he had no idea what the headman was talking about, he couldn’t say anything.

“I know you don’t wish to be seen as cheap and that for your reputation you’d like to reach a compromise. It must cost a fortune to hire someone as strong as you, Lord Ainz. And that’s why you want some material goods in addition to the three thousand copper pieces.”

Ainz was completely confused by the headman’s proposal and was glad he was wearing a mask. The reason he’d presented the gold coin and asked how much he could buy with it was to get a general idea of what things cost in this world. How did things end up going in this direction?

He didn’t interrupt, so the headman continued. “However, all we can afford to offer is three thousand copper pieces. It’s only natural that you would doubt us, but we have nothing to hide from you, our savior.” The headman’s expression was brimming with sincerity, and there was not the faintest suggestion that he might be lying. If I get tricked here, I’ve got only my inability to judge character to blame. “And of course I don’t expect that someone as powerful as you would be satisfied with the paltry sum our small village can offer. If we went around the village collecting, perhaps we could scrape up something more adequate, but we’ve lost a lot of workers—if we pay more than the amount I mentioned, we won’t be able to make it through the next season. And that goes for goods as well. Since we’ve lost hands, there will be fields that don’t get tended. I predict extreme hardship for us in the near future if we give up produce now. I’m ashamed to ask this of you who have just saved our lives, but would you at least be willing to split everything with us?”

Oh! Is this my chance? Ainz felt as if he’d walked out of a dense forest to find a panoramic view. He pretended to be deep in thought. He could see where he wanted to go. He just prayed he would get there. After waiting a few moments, he replied, “I understand. I don’t require any compensation.”

“What?! Wh-why not?” The village headman and his wife’s eyes widened in surprise.

Ainz raised a hand to signal he was going to continue talking. He guided the conversation, thinking what information he should give them and what he should keep to himself. It was a pain, and he wasn’t 100 percent certain he could pull it off, but he had to. “I’m a caster and until quite recently had been holed up in a place called Nazarick to research magic.”

“Aha, I see. So that’s why you’re dressed like that, huh?”

“Ah, well—er, yes,” he mumbled, fingering the jealousy mask. If casters dress so bizarrely here, I wonder what the cities look like… Bali’s Barong and Rangda walking down the street came to mind. He’d begun to hope this wasn’t such a shocking world as all that when he realized something strange: The word caster made sense to them.

In Yggdrasil, the word caster had a broad meaning. It lumped the countless magic user classes—priests, clerics, druids, arcaners, sorcerers, wizards, bards, miko, talisman wielders, mountain hermits, etc.—all together. What a coincidence if it were the same here.

“I don’t need compensation, but…” Ainz stopped here to judge their reaction. “A caster makes use of various things—fear, knowledge. You could call these the tools of our trade. But, as I mentioned, I’ve been holed up doing magic research, so I don’t have much current knowledge of this area. I’d like to get some information from the two of you, and then have your understanding that no one is to know you sold it to me. Let’s do that instead of monetary or material goods compensation.”

“There’s no such thing as a free lunch,” so the saying goes. Of course he would ask for something. Anyone in negotiations with someone who just saved their lives and who said they didn’t need anything in return would probably feel like something was fishy, so he had to make it seem to them like they’d compensated him—even if that compensation were intangible.

In other words, if he could convince them that selling him information he needed was a fair trade, they wouldn’t get suspicious.

And in fact, both the headman and his wife nodded intensely. “You have our understanding. We’ll never tell anyone.”

Great! Ainz was glad his business know-how was worth something after all and did a mini–first pump under the table. “Oh, good. And I won’t be using magic or anything to enforce your promise. I trust you.”

Ainz stretched out a gauntleted hand. Initially startled, the headman seemed to realize what was going on and took it. Ainz was relieved they had handshakes in this world. If he had been given a look like, What are you doing? all he would have been able to do was cry.

Of course, he didn’t trust them completely. If they were offered a reward, and it was good enough, they might spill the beans. By sealing the deal on their character alone, it just depended on their character. It wasn’t about which was better, just Ainz chose to bet on the village headman’s decency. If word got out, then it got out. He could just use the fact as a trump card in his next dealings with this village. Recalling their expressions of gratitude and the sincerity of their interactions with him, though, somehow he felt they wouldn’t betray him.

“Well, then, I hope you can teach me many things.”

“What the heck?!”

“Is something the matter?”

“Oh no, just talking to myself. Excuse me. I didn’t mean to shout.”

For one moment, Ainz fell out of character, but he picked up the act again right away. If he’d had a human body, he would have no doubt broken out in a cold sweat.

The village headman said only, “I see,” and didn’t probe any further. Maybe casters already had a reputation as weirdos in the village. That was no problem with Ainz.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“Oh no, that’s okay. I’m not thirsty, but thank you for asking.”

The headman’s wife had left. He’d had her go outside to help with the cleanup and such. Ainz and the headman were the only ones left in the room.

The first question Ainz asked was about the countries in the area. The response had been all places he’d never heard of. He’d been prepared for anything, but surprise won out once reality was shoved in his face. At first, he’d been running his brain over many possibilities, but in general, he’d been thinking he must have been in the world of Yggdrasil. He could use Yggdrasil magic, so he figured there must be some connection. But now he was met with names of places he was completely ignorant of.

The countries in the area were the Re-Estize Kingdom, the Baharuth Empire, and the Slane Theocracy. Yggdrasil’s world was based on Norse myths—he’d never heard of any places like these.

His eyes were swimming, and he felt like he might collapse, but he steadied himself by putting his hands on the table. He’d just ended up in an unknown world. He’d been prepared to accept it, but he couldn’t suppress his astonishment.

The shock was just too big. It was his first time being hit so hard by something since becoming undead. In order to calm down, he decided to review what he knew about the surrounding topography.

First, the Re-Estize Kingdom and the Baharuth Empire. Their territories were divided by a mountain range. From the southern edge of the mountains stretched a forest, and about where the forest ended was where the Re-Estize Kingdom’s domain, containing the castle town and this village, began. The two countries had poor relations, and there was fighting on the plains near the castle town what seemed like every year during the past several.

Then to the south was the Slane Theocracy. To get a rough idea of how their territories fit together, it was easiest to think of an upside-down T tilted so it pointed up and to the right, but slightly melted so the long edge bent to go straight up. On the left was the Re-Estize Kingdom; on the right, a bit larger, was the Baharuth Empire; and below the bar was the Slane Theocracy. Supposedly there were other countries as well, but that was all the info the village headman could provide. As for the countries’ relative power, the headman of a tiny village wouldn’t know that, either. In other words…

“I screwed up…”

The village headman seemed to think the knights had come from the Baharuth Empire due to the crests on their armor, but in terms of which countries actually shared borders, it was possible the whole thing could have been a plot by the Slane Theocracy. It had been a mistake to let all the knights go. He should have grabbed at least one and gotten some info out of him. Now it was too late.

Assuming it had been the Slane Theocracy, then maybe he should strike some kind of deal with the empire. The kingdom was fine—he’d already earned some goodwill there for saving this village.

Ainz pondered whether he could really be the only one who’d come to this world. That can’t be. There’s a huge chance other players are here. Even HeroHero might be here. What I need to think about is what will happen if I encounter other players.

If a large number of players had come, knowing Japanese people, many of them would group together. Ainz wanted to be part of that if possible. He would make any concessions as long as they didn’t have to do with Ainz Ooal Gown.

The issue would be if that group saw his guild as an enemy. That wasn’t completely out of the question—Ainz Ooal Gown had role-played evil and done a lot of PK-ing, so they were widely detested. He wasn’t confident that hatred had died out. He might even be antagonized out of a sense of justice or righteous indignation.

To avoid that, the first thing to do would be to make as few enemies as possible. If he killed locals—or especially if he carried out any unnecessary slaughter of humans—it could upset players who still had their humanity. Of course, if he had a reason they found convincing (for instance, saving a village like this one that was under attack), then it might be a different story.

In short, I need to have a really good reason for everything I do from now on. In other words, I didn’t want to do this but…I need a procedure.

In the event this group held a grudge against Ainz Ooal Gown, Nazarick probably wouldn’t be able to avoid combat. Considering their current war potential, they could annihilate thirty level-100 players in one go. And if they used a World Item, the Tomb would transform into an impregnable fortress. They’d probably be able to fight off any enemies like they had before.

But it wasn’t hard to imagine how stupid trying to withstand a raid without backup would be. And each time they unleashed the World Item’s power, Ainz’s level would go down. If they were attacked in waves, they would eventually be worn down to the point where they couldn’t use it anymore.

Ainz knew focusing on warfare was dangerous because it could lead to bias and a narrower view of things, but neither was he so naive that he would act without considering the worst possible outcome. He was simply considering how to deal with problems.

If he only cared about surviving, maybe he wouldn’t have to do all that—he could just live in the mountains and fields like a beast—but he had too much power and pride to do that.

If he tried to get along with people, things ought to work out one way or another.

In that case, the most important item of discussion was how to increase their war potential. He needed to collect more information about the world, including who the players in it were.

“There has to be some mistake…”

“Is something wrong?”

“Oh no. Things are just a bit different than I thought, so I was momentarily upset. More importantly, could you give me some more information?”

“O-okay, yes.” The headman changed topics to discuss monsters.

They had them, just like in Yggdrasil. There were dangerous beasts living deep in the woodlands, especially the Wise King of the Forest, and they also had humanlike races like dwarves and elves, as well as subhuman races such as goblins, orcs, and ogres. Apparently some of the subhuman races had even established countries.

People who went around exterminating monsters for rewards were called “adventurers,” and there were many casters among them. In big cities, there were adventurer guilds.

Ainz also got some information about the nearest fortress city, E-Rantel. The headman wasn’t sure about the population, but he knew it was the biggest city in these parts. It seemed like it would be the best place to gather information.

The information Ainz got from the village headman was useful, but there were still lots of unknowns. Rather than trying to get details here, it would be faster to send a party to E-Rantel.

Then, there was the language. Ainz thought it strange that everyone knew Japanese in this completely other world, so he tried watching the headman’s lips and—no big deal—he wasn’t speaking Japanese.

The movements of his mouth and what Ainz was hearing were totally different.

From there, Ainz did some experimenting. His conclusion? Everyone here had eaten Translation Gum or something, not that he knew where they’d gotten it. This world’s language, or rather the words anyone spoke, would be automatically translated by the time they reached the listener. If a word could be recognized as a word, it would probably work with nonhuman creatures as well, like cats or dogs. He just had no idea how it was possible. The headman, however, didn’t seem to think anything of it—it was taken for granted.

So it must just be one of the laws of this world? If I take a step back and think about it, they do have magic. It wouldn’t be strange at all if this world was governed by a whole different set of laws.

The common sense Ainz had picked up in his life was not the common sense of this world. That was a critical problem. Without common sense, he was in danger of committing a fatal error—nobody ever means anything good when they say, “That guy has no common sense,” and he was certainly lacking it now. He had to do something, but no brilliant moves came to mind. I can’t just grab someone and say, “Tell me all your common sense!” That’d be ridiculous!

Which left him with basically one option.

“…I guess I need to go live in a city, huh?”

To learn common sense would take a large number of models. He also needed to learn about this world’s magic. There were too many things he still needed to find out.

As he was going over all of this in his head, he heard the faint sound of footsteps in the dirt outside the thin wooden door. The interval was large, but it didn’t sound like stomping—it was a man in a hurry.

The knock came just as Ainz had turned to face that way. The headman looked to Ainz to see how he wished to proceed. He must feel awkward doing anything of his own volition when he’s in the middle of a discussion constituting payment for me saving the village. “Go ahead, no problem. I was just wanting a break anyhow. I don’t mind if you go out.”

“My apologies.” The headman gave a slight bow and walked toward the door. When he opened it, a villager was standing there with the sun at his back. His eyes went from the headman to Ainz.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but the preparations for the funeral are complete…”

“I see…” The headman looked Ainz’s way as if requesting permission to leave.

“I don’t mind. Don’t worry about me.”

“Thank you. Then, please tell everyone I’ll join you presently.”

2

The funeral began in the public cemetery on the outskirts of town. The cemetery was surrounded by a shabby fence. Round stones with names carved on them dotted the yard, serving as grave markers.

The village headman appealed to gods Ainz had never heard of in Yggdrasil, so that the deceased might rest in peace.

There weren’t enough hands to bury all the corpses at once, so they were starting with what they could. Ainz thought it seemed hasty to bury people that very day, but there were no religions he was familiar with here, so all he could do was accept it as different.

Among the villagers present were the sisters he had saved, Enri and Nemu Emmott. Their parents must have been getting buried that day.

Ainz watched a little ways away from the others, running his hands over a wand of about twelve inches under his robe. It was made of elephant ivory and one tip was dipped in gold. The grip was inscribed with runes, giving the whole object a kind of sacred vibe.

It was a wand of resurrection, a magical item that could revive the dead. Of course, he had more than just that one. He had enough to bring back everyone in the village with change left over. But according to the headman, magic that could bring back the dead didn’t exist in this world. So there was the potential for a miracle to occur in this village, but as the prayer ended and the funeral entered its last stages, Ainz quietly put the wand back in his item box.

He could bring them back. He just didn’t. Not that he was concerned for their souls or had some other religious reason. There just wasn’t anything in it for him.

There were casters who could kill and casters who could revive. It wasn’t hard to imagine either type getting caught up in some kind of trouble. Even if he did it on the condition they stay quiet about it, the chance of them sticking to that was low.

The power to oppose death—who wouldn’t drool over that?

If the situation changed, maybe he could use it, but for now, he didn’t have enough information. Now is not the time. “I’ll have them be satisfied with the fact that I saved the village,” he murmured and then turned to take a hard look at the death knight standing behind him.

He had some questions about this guy, too. In Yggdrasil, with a few exceptions, summoned monsters expired after a set time, and since he hadn’t used any special method to summon this death knight, his time should have been up a long time ago. But he was still here. Ainz had various guesses about what was going on, but without more information, he couldn’t reach an answer.

Next to Ainz and his thoughts, two shadows lined up. They were Albedo and a spiderlike monster the size of a human wearing ninja gear. From each of its eight legs grew a sharp blade.

“An eight-edged assassin? Albedo…!” Ainz scanned the area, but there was no sign of any villagers looking their way. Even in the middle of a funeral, the sight of Albedo and especially the bizarre monster should have been enough to draw attention.

Then he remembered: Eight-edged assassins could turn invisible.

“I brought him because he said he wanted to see you, Lord Ainz.”

“I do hope you are in good spirits, Lord Momo—”

“Spare me the flattery. More importantly, are you my reinforcements?”

“Yes, sir. There are four hundred minions under me ready to raid the village.”

Raid? Why do they think we’re raiding? Sebas, this is like a bad game of telephone. “There’s no need to attack. The issue is already resolved. And who is commanding you?”

“Mistress Aura and Master Mare. Master Demiurge and Mistress Shalltear are defending the castle, and Master Cocytus is guarding the area.”

“I see. If there are too many minions out, they’ll just get in the way. Have everyone except Aura and Mare withdraw. How many of you eight-edged assassins came?”

“Fifteen in all.”

“Okay, then you guys stand by with Aura and Mare.”

After receiving the eight-edged assassin’s bow, Ainz turned back to the funeral proceedings. Right as some dirt was being thrown onto a fresh gave, the two sisters collapsed in tears.

Realizing the funeral wouldn’t end anytime soon, he headed slowly back to the village. Albedo and the death knight followed behind him.

Although they’d been interrupted by the funeral, by the time Ainz left the headman’s house after learning about the area and some amount of common sense, the sun had been sitting low in the sky.

He’d made this dramatic rescue as a favor to an old friend, but it had taken more time than he’d expected. He did feel like the benefits balanced it out, though. Even just realizing that the more he learned about the world, the more questions he had was worth it. Ainz ran his mind over the things he had to do while gazing absentmindedly at the setting sun.

It was extremely dangerous to act without being fully informed. The best thing to do would have been to stay hidden and gather information on the down low, but now that he had saved this village, that was no longer possible.

Even if he had annihilated those knights, their country would have wanted to investigate what had happened to them. In his own world, scientific investigation was advanced, but it was possible that in this world some other way of investigating had advanced.

Even if they weren’t advanced, as long as there were villagers alive, there was a high chance they’d be able to find out about him. One way to make sure no information leaked was to take all the villagers to the Great Tomb of Nazarick, but it wouldn’t be strange for the kingdom to consider that abduction.

And so he had given his name and let the knights go. He’d had two aims in this. As long as he wasn’t hiding out in the Great Tomb of Nazarick, he guessed word of him would spread quickly, so his first aim was to spread word of himself to some extent; he figured it would be good to guide that process. The second aim was to spread the story of how someone called Ainz Ooal Gown saved a village and killed knights. Of course, the ones whom he most wanted to hear the rumor were Yggdrasil players.

Ainz wanted to belong to either the kingdom, the empire, or the theocracy. He was sure that if other players were in this world, rumors of them would spread. But if Ainz belonged to an organization called Nazarick, it was bound to be difficult to acquire information, not to mention risky. And if he made the mistake of giving orders to someone with a personality like Albedo, he might inadvertently make unnecessary enemies.

Even just from the standpoint of acquiring information, it seemed like getting under the umbrella of one of the countries would be a good idea. In order to maintain the self-governance of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, as well, it would be good to have the backing of some authority. He couldn’t take his situation lightly as long as he was in the dark about the relative strength of the countries. Not knowing what the limit of individual power in this world was also spurred him on. He couldn’t assume there was no one stronger than him in any of the three countries.

He could think of plenty of downsides to becoming a member of one of the countries, but he felt the upsides outweighed them. The problem was, in what position would he “join” them?

I’m not about to be somebody’s slave, sorry. I’m not interested in being employed at a company with horrible working conditions like HeroHero, either. I’ll have to try to impress the various powers and choose the best place once I’ve seen the differences in how they treat me.

It’s just like changing jobs.

So it’s just a question of when to start making connections. I might get taken advantage of the way I am now, with barely any information.

Ainz got about that far before shaking his head as if he were a bit tired. He’d used his brain a crazy amount during the past several hours. It was a pain to think anymore.

“Phew…all right. I’ve done what I came here to do. Albedo, let’s withdraw.”

“Yes, my lord.” Albedo was bristling despite the fact that she had no reason to be on guard; there was no danger in this village.

In that case, Ainz could only think of one explanation. He lowered his voice and asked, “…Do you hate humans?”

“I’m not fond of them. They’re such fragile creatures—lower life-forms. I always wonder how pretty they’d be if I squashed them under my feet like bugs. Oh, but…there is one exception, a girl…” Her voice was sweet as honey, but the words she spoke were severe.

Ainz considered the beauty that made her look like a goddess full of love and felt her attitude unbecoming. He replied to admonish her somewhat. “Hm, I understand how you feel, but please keep your composure and treat them kindly. It’s important to put on the act.”

Albedo deeply bowed her head. Watching her, Ainz worried. Her preferences wouldn’t cause problems for the moment, but he wondered about the future. He realized he needed to be aware of his subordinates’ likes and dislikes.

With that, he decided to try to find the village headman. He wanted to be polite and say good-bye before leaving.

The headman was easy enough to locate. He was conferring in a corner of the square with some villagers; the looks on their faces were serious, but there was something off—they seemed nervous.

More trouble? Ainz refrained from clicking his tongue and went over to them. In for a penny, in for a mile.

“Is something wrong, Mr. Headman?”

It was like a ray of heavenly light beamed across his face. “Oh, Lord Ainz! We have word that there are mounted knights heading toward the village.”

“I see.”

The headman looked nervously at Ainz. The villagers did the same.

He held up a hand to calm them. “Leave this to me. Gather all the villagers in your house at once, then meet me in the square.”

A bell rang, and while the villagers gathered, Ainz positioned the death knight outside the headman’s house and Albedo behind himself.

Ainz spoke to the headman in a cheerful voice to assuage his fears. “Don’t worry. I’ll give you a freebie, just this once.”

The headman’s trembling lessened somewhat and he smiled wryly. Perhaps he had been prepared for the worst.

It wasn’t long before a group of cavalrymen came into view down the main road. They rode in formation and proceeded quietly into the village.

“Their gear doesn’t match—they’ve all got custom setups… Does that mean they’re not part of a regular army?”

Watching the cavalrymen, Ainz felt something was off about their equipment.

The knights who had come before with the empire’s crest emblazoned on their chests all had matching heavy armor. But these cavalrymen, they were wearing armor, but everyone had arranged their equipment to their own liking. Some wore just leather armor for some parts, while others had taken off iron plates and wore exposed chain mail. Some wore helmets, some didn’t. The one thing they had in common in that department was that their faces were visible. They also all wore the same make of sword, but their secondary weapons were all different types—bows, one-handed spears, maces, etc.

From a glass-half-full perspective, they were a veteran order of knights. Otherwise they were just a ragtag bunch of mercenaries.

Eventually the party rode right into the square, about twenty men. While keeping an eye on the death knight, they formed a magnificent row before Ainz and the village headman. One of them, still on his horse, came forward. He appeared to be their leader and was more robust than the others. He practically overlooked the headman, stopped his eyes on the death knight, and then looked at Albedo. His eyes stayed there for a long time, as if he were caught. But when he saw that she was just standing at attention without moving a muscle, he turned his sharp, perceptive gaze on Ainz.

This man had the air of one who made violence his occupation, but Ainz took his gaze and just stood there. One look wasn’t enough to disturb him.

Not that he had always been strong against such eyes. It was probably just thanks to his undead body. Or maybe it was due to the confidence he’d gained from being able to use his Yggdrasil powers.

Satisfied with his observations, the man addressed them in a dignified manner. “I am captain of the Royal Select of the Kingdom of Re-Estize, Gazef Stronoff. We’ve come on the king’s orders to subdue the imperial knights terrorizing this region.” His deep voice carried clearly throughout the square despite being quiet, and Ainz could hear a stir from inside the village headman’s house behind them.

“Captain of the Royal Select…,” murmured the headman.

Ainz was slightly miffed that there hadn’t been anything about this man in the info he’d received. “Who is he?”

“According to the merchants, he was once champion of the royal tournament and is now the leader of a group of elite soldiers who serve the king directly.”

“And this is really him?”

“…I don’t know. I’ve only ever heard the rumors.”

If Ainz squinted, it turned out they did all have the same crest on their chests. And it did resemble the kingdom’s crest the headman had described earlier. But he was still a little too uninformed to believe the story right away.

“You must be the village headman,” said Gazef, turning to the headman. “So then, if you would be so kind as to tell me who exactly that is next to you?”

The headman’s mouth was half open, but Ainz stopped him and gave a brief self-introduction. “That’s not necessary. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain. I am Ainz Ooal Gown, a caster who saw this village being attacked by knights and came to save it.”

In response, Gazef jumped off his horse and landed with a clatter of armor. He solemnly bowed his head. “There are no words to express my thanks that you have saved this village.”

A ripple went through the atmosphere.

It must have been a shock in this world, where social standing was so black and white, to see the most likely privileged man who held the position of captain of the Royal Select making a show of respect to Ainz, whose status was unknown. Human rights weren’t even properly established in this country—or depending on the case, anywhere. They had probably been buying and selling humans as slaves up until a few years ago.

Despite the fact that they weren’t even equals, Gazef had gotten off his horse and bowed to Ainz. That spoke volumes about his character. Ainz decided that the man must actually be who he said he was.

“No, I was doing it for the rewards, anyway. Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh! A reward? Then, you’re an adventurer?”

“Something like that.”

“Hmm, I see. You seem quite strong… I’m sorry to say I haven’t heard your name before.”

“I’m on a journey, just passing through, so my name may not have spread so much.”

“On a journey, hm? I feel bad taking an able adventurer’s time, but I’d like to hear the details about the nasty bunch who attacked this village.”

“Of course. I’d be happy to tell you, Captain. I robbed most of them of their lives. I’d hazard to say they won’t be making any trouble around here for a while. Did you need to hear more about that?”

“Robbed them of their lives… You killed them yourself, Sir Gown?” From the way Gazef addressed him, he realized this world’s names were Western-style, not Japanese—not surname, name, but name, surname. Now he knew why the headman had looked at him a little funny when he’d asked him to call him Ainz. Certainly if someone Ainz wasn’t terribly familiar with asked to be called by their first name, he would have made that face.

He concealed his realization of this faux pas with the mask known as adulthood and continued. “You…could say that or maybe not.”

Inferring the delicate nuance, Gazef’s eyes flicked to the death knight. He must have sensed the faint smell of blood coming off of him.

“Right now there are two things I want to ask you. One: What is that?”

“A minion I created.”

He hmmed his admiration and looked Ainz up and down. “And what’s that mask about?”

“I have my reasons as a caster for wearing this mask.”

“Could I get you to take it off for me?”

“I’m afraid not. It would be quite troublesome if he”—Ainz indicated the death knight—“were to go on a rampage.”

The village headman knew what the death knight was capable of, and the alarm was plain on his face. Voices could also be heard from inside the house. Perhaps sensing the sudden atmosphere change, Gazef nodded gravely. “I see. I suppose you’d better keep it on, then.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, then—”

“One moment. I beg your pardon, but this village has just been attacked by imperial knights. I think seeing all of you with your weapons will cause them to flash back to that terror. It would probably help everyone relax if you would lay down your weapons at the edge of the square. What do you think?”

“You’re right, but these swords were bestowed upon us by our king. We can’t disarm without his permission.”

“Lord Ainz, we’re fine.”

“Are you sure, Mr. Headman? Captain, I hope you’ll be able to forgive me for my rudeness.”

“No problem, Sir Gown. I think your idea was quite correct. If this sword were not a gift from our king, I would have gladly set it aside. Now, then, shall we sit down somewhere and have a more detailed discussion? Also, if you don’t mind, we’d like to rest here for the night…”

“Understood. We’ll discuss that as well, so please come to my house—” The headman was mid-reply when it happened. A lone cavalryman rode into the square. His rough breathing foreshadowed the seriousness of the news he’d brought.

He loudly announced an emergency. “Captain! Several figures spotted in the area! They’re surrounding the village and approaching!”

3

“Your attention, please.”

A quiet, level voice sounded so that all present could hear.

“Our prey has entered the cage.”

It was a man’s voice. There was nothing particular about it. His face, too, was an average one that would get lost in a crowd—if it weren’t for his utterly emotionless, almost artificial-seeming black eyes and a scar that ran down his cheek.

“Let us put our faith in the gods.”

All those present observed a moment of silence, a condensed prayer to their gods.

Even on a mission in a different country, they took time to pray—not out of confidence, but piety. These agents of the Slane Theocracy in the service of their gods had stronger faith than average citizens. That was how they could perform cold-blooded acts without thinking twice and feel no guilt.

After the prayer, all of their eyes were glazed over, like glass marbles.

“Begin.”

One word.

That was all it took for everyone to move in exquisite coordination to surround the village. One could sense it was the result of ceaseless training.

This was the unit that carried out mostly illegal activities. They existed even inside the Slane Theocracy itself only as rumors that followed them like shadows—one of the six scriptures that reported directly to the high priest, the Sunlit Scripture, whose most important duty was the extermination of subhuman villages.

Although the Sunlit Scripture saw the most combat of any of the six special-ops units, they had very few members—not even one hundred, including reserves. Their small size implied how hard it was to be accepted.

First, they each had to be able to use tier-three (the highest level a normal caster could attain) faith magic. Superior mental and physical abilities, as well as a true faith, were also required.

In other words, they were the best of the best.

Watching his elite subordinates scatter, the man breathed out slowly. Deployment was done; it would be hard to monitor their movements now. However, he had no concerns regarding the construction of their cage. Captain of the Sunlit Scripture, Nigun Grid Lewin had the peace of mind of one who knew his mission’s success was nearly at hand.

The Sunlit Scripture were not experts at covert or outdoor operations. They’d missed their chance four times. After each failure, they pursued Gazef and his men from the kingdom, careful to not be found. If they missed their chance again now, their days of chasing Gazef would continue.

“Should we…get help from another unit next time? I’d like to let someone else handle this.”

Someone was present to respond to Nigun’s grumbling. “We really should. Our specialty is extermination!” He was a subordinate who had stayed behind, in part to guard Nigun. “So it’s weird that we’d get assigned this mission. It’s important, so why didn’t they get the Flurry Scripture in on it, too?”

“Exactly. It’s unclear why they assigned us alone, but it’s been a good learning experience for us. Incorporating covert operations on enemy soil into our training isn’t such a bad thing. I mean, it’s possible that’s why they had us do it.” Even as he said that, however, Nigun knew the probability of another mission like this coming their way was low.

Their mission was to remove Gazef Stronoff, a royal warrior so strong that there was no one comparable in any nearby countries. This was more of a job for the Black Scripture, the unit where all members had hero-level power. Normally it would have been given to them, but this time that wasn’t possible.

The reason for that was top secret, so Nigun couldn’t tell the lower-ranking man, but of course he knew what it was. They were too busy trying to resurrect the Catastrophe Dragonlord—the Black Scripture was guarding the sacred treasure, Ruinous Beauty, and the Flurry Scripture’s top priority was chasing down the traitor who had stolen one of the shrine princesses’ sacred treasures.

Nigun unconsciously stroked the scar on his cheek. He thought of the one time he’d awkwardly fled from a fight, and the face of the woman who had given him the scar with her black magic sword came to mind…

Magic could have completely healed him, but he had left the scar there on purpose, so he wouldn’t forget his defeat.

“Blue Rose…”

That woman was from the kingdom, like Gazef. But what Nigun really couldn’t forgive her for was being a priest. Not only did she believe in a different god, but she tried to prevent Nigun and his men from attacking a subhuman village—and she thought she was right! She was a fool who couldn’t see the big picture.

“Humans are weak, so we must protect ourselves in all manner of ways. She couldn’t understand that, the fool.”

The subordinate man, perhaps sharp enough to catch the anger in his captain’s glassy eyes, hastily interrupted. “Th-that kingdom, the whole bunch of them are fools.”

Nigun didn’t answer, but he agreed.

Gazef was strong. That’s why they had moved to weaken him by stripping him of his protection.

The kingdom was split into two factions, the king’s side and the nobles, who were locked in a continuous power struggle. Gazef was an impossible-to-ignore member of the king’s faction, so if the nobles thought they could thwart him, they were liable to act without thinking things through—even if their thought process was being manipulated by an agent from another country.

One of the reasons the nobles hated him was that he had worked his way up out of his commoner background by his prowess with the sword alone.

And the result of all that animosity?

The kingdom was about to lose their trump card.

To Nigun, it was utterly idiotic.

The Slane Theocracy also had factions—six of them, but they mostly worked together. One simple reason they could do that was the fact that they respected one another’s gods. Another was that they knew they had to stick together in this dangerous world full of nonhuman races and monsters.

“…That’s why we have to get them to walk the same path as us, the path based on the correct teachings. Humans are not meant to fight, but to walk together.”

And the sacrifice to this ideal would be Gazef.

“Do you think we can get him?”

Nigun took his subordinate’s anxiety seriously.

Their prey this time was Gazef Stronoff, the strongest warrior in these parts and captain of the Royal Select. This was harder than wiping out a huge goblin village. So Nigun answered in a quiet voice to dispel his worries. “It shouldn’t be a problem. You know those treasures the kingdom permits him to carry? He doesn’t have them equipped this time. Without those, it should be a simple matter to kill him… I’d even say that if we miss this chance, it will, on the contrary, be impossible.”

Captain Gazef Stronoff’s name was known far and wide for his skills, but there was another reason, as well—the kingdom’s five treasures. Currently only four were known, but Gazef was allowed to equip them all: the Gauntlets of Vitality that made it so the wearer never got fatigued; the Amulet of Immortality that constantly healed the wearer; Guardian Armor that was said to be able to save the wearer from a fatal critical hit, made from the hardest metal in existence, adamantite; and Razor Edge, a magic sword that was enchanted in the pursuit of sharpness and cut armor like butter.

Even Nigun couldn’t win against Gazef Stronoff if his attack and defense were boosted to extraordinary levels via that lineup of gear. Surely there was no human who could. But if he wasn’t equipped with the treasures, they had a decent enough chance.

“Plus, we have an ace up our sleeve. There’s no way we’ll lose this fight.” Nigun patted his breast pocket.

In this world there were three types of nonstandard magic items. Relics of the Eight Kings of Avarice who conquered the continent in the blink of an eye more than five hundred years ago were one type. Before the Eight Kings of Avarice ruled, the dragons did. The dragons’ hidden treasures, believed to have been created by the most powerful dragonlords’ magic, were the second type. Finally, six centuries earlier, the six gods that made up the foundation of the Slane Theocracy descended. The supreme treasures they left behind were the third and final type.

And in Nigun’s breast pocket was a supreme treasure—even the Slane Theocracy only had a few of them. It meant guaranteed victory.

He glanced at the steel band wrapped around his wrist. The numbers there indicated the passing of time.

“Okay, let’s begin the operation.”

Nigun and his subordinate cast their magic—their elite angel-summoning magic.

“I see. Yes, indeed…” Gazef confirmed the reported figures from the shadow of a house. He could see three. They were slowly walking toward the village, maintaining a fixed distance among one another. They were unarmed and weren’t wearing heavy armor, but that didn’t mean they would go down easily. Many casters eschewed heavy armor, preferring lighter materials. In other words, they were probably casters.

What made that completely clear were the glowing, winged figures lined up next to them—angels.

Angels were monsters summoned from another world that many people—especially people from the Slane Theocracy—believed served the gods. It was unclear whether that was true or false, and the priests of the kingdom asserted that they were simply a type of summoned monster.

That religious conflict was one reason the countries disliked each other, but Gazef didn’t care who the monsters served. To Gazef, all that mattered was how strong they were.

As far as he knew, compared to other monsters summoned with the same level of magic, angels and demons (which were said to be about equal themselves) were a tad stronger. In addition to having many special abilities, they could use some magic, so Gazef categorized them among the more troublesome enemies. Even so, although it depended on the type of angel, they weren’t unbeatable.

These ones wore gleaming breastplates and carried long swords of crimson flame. He’d never seen this type before, so he couldn’t guess how strong they were.

Ainz had come with him to take a look and asked, “Who the heck are these guys and what are they after? This village doesn’t really seem that valuable…”

“So you don’t know them…? If they’re not after you, Sir Gown, then there’s only one answer.”

Their eyes met.

“You’ve got some enemies, Captain.”

“I suppose there’s no helping it because of my position, but this is…a rather large problem. If they have this many casters summoning angels, they must be from the Slane Theocracy… And if they’re engaged in this kind of mission, it must be one of the rumored six scriptures, their special-ops units. Numbers, strength—they have the advantage.” Gazef shrugged his shoulders, all but openly grumbling about what a pain it was. His attitude was relaxed, but inside he was quite anxious. And angry.

“They did a great job using the nobles to take away my gear. If that snake had been sniffing around the court, things would probably have gone even worse, so I suppose we should count ourselves lucky that this was all that happened. Still, I never thought the Slane Theocracy would be after me…”

He snorted.

But they were really outnumbered. They weren’t ready. They had no countermeasures to use. They were fresh out of everything. But there was one possibility…

“Are those flame archangels? They sure look like them, but…why would the same monster be here? Is it because the summon magic is the same? If that’s the case…”

Gazef looked to the muttering Ainz and said, with a glimmer of hope, “Sir Gown, if it’s all right with you, we’d like to hire you.”

There was no reply. Gazef just felt an intense stare coming from behind the mask.

“I can promise you any amount in compensation.”

“I think I’ll refuse.”

“If we could even just borrow your summoned knight…”

“I don’t think so.”

“And if I invoked royal law and forcefully drafted you?”

“That would be a most foolish choice…is…not the kind of violent thing I’d like to say, but if you attempt to use some power against me, including the authority of the kingdom, I’d put up a little bit of resistance.”

They glared at each other and the first one to look away was Gazef.

“Huh. We’d be annihilated before we even got into it with the theocracy.”

“Ho-ho, ‘annihilated,’ very funny. But I’m glad you understand.”

Gazef watched, eyes squinted, as Ainz bowed. He hadn’t been joking. His intuition was screaming at him how dangerous it would be to make an enemy of this caster. Especially when his life was in danger, he tended to go with his intuition over unproductive pondering.

Who is this guy? Gazef thought, gazing at Ainz’s mask. What in the world does his face look like under that mask? Is it one I’d be familiar with, or…?

“Is something wrong? Is my mask crooked?”

“Ohhh no, I just was thinking what a peculiar mask it is. If you can control that monster with it, it must be an unusually powerful magic item.”

“Indeed. It’s quite rare and valuable. It’s impossible to get one anymore.”

If someone possessed valuable magic items, then logically their magic would be powerful. Thinking in that way, Ainz must have been a pretty powerful caster. Gazef suddenly felt hopeless, being unable to win his support. But he still wished that as an adventurer, Ainz would take on this one request…

“Well, it’s pointless to stand around here all day. Take care, Sir Gown. I appreciate you saving the village.”

Gazef removed his gauntlets and shook Ainz’s hand. To be polite, it would be correct for Ainz to remove his gauntlets as well, but he left them on and it didn’t faze Gazef. He shook Ainz’s hand with both of his bare hands and laid his heart bare to match. “I really, really appreciate it. You did an amazing deed, protecting the innocent from that storm of atrocities. …And I have to say: I want you to protect them again. I don’t have anything I can give you right now, but I do hope you’ll consider my request.”

“That’s—”

“If you ever come to the royal capital, I promise, on my honor as Gazef Stronoff, that I’ll give you whatever you desire.”

Gazef took his hands away and was about to drop to one knee, but Ainz stopped him. “You don’t have to do that… I understand. I’ll protect this village without fail…on my honor as Ainz Ooal Gown.”

Hearing this vow, Gazef’s heart lightened. “Thank you, Sir Gown! Then, we have nothing to fear. I can go forth boldly into battle.”

“Before you do that, please take this.”

Ainz must have thought of something as Gazef smiled—he handed him a small object. It was a weird little carving that didn’t seem terribly special to Gazef, but—“A memento—I gratefully accept. Well, Sir Gown, it’s a shame we must part, but I’m going to go.”

“You don’t want to wait for the cover of night?”

“There’s a spell called Night Vision, so even if darkness is a disadvantage for us, it likely won’t be for them. Plus, they have to see that we’ve fled the village for this to work.”

“I see. Your analysis is worthy of your position, Captain. You have my admiration. May you be victorious.”

“May your journey continue, Sir Gown.”

Ainz watched until Gazef’s silhouette grew small. Perhaps sensing something in his mood, Albedo said nothing despite their lack of time.

Ainz sighed. “I feeling nothing more toward a human I’m meeting for the first time than I would for a bug, but…once I try talking to them, I start to get attached as if they were cute little animals.”

“Is that why you swore on your honor along with your sacred name?”

“Maybe… No. It was because of the strong will of someone prepared to die…”

He admired that.

Gazef had a strong will, unlike himself.

“Albedo, relay orders to the minions in the area: Check for any ambushing troops. If there are any, knock them out.”

“At once. Ah, Lord Ainz, the headman is coming.”

Following Albedo’s line of sight Ainz saw the headman heading their way with two villagers. Anxiety and unease had spurred them to run, and they were out of breath, but they began to speak as soon as they reached him as if they couldn’t even spare the time it would take to recover.

“Lord Ainz, what should we do? Why has the captain refused to protect us and left the village?” The headman’s words contained more than fear. The feeling of abandonment was turning to rage.

“The captain did the right thing, Mr. Headman. The enemy is after him. If he stayed, the village would be the battleground and they probably wouldn’t pass up the chance to kill the people. Him leaving was the best thing for you.”

“So that’s…why he left? We should stay here, then…?”

“No. I’m sure they’ll come back for the survivors here. We can’t run while we’re surrounded, but they’ll probably attack the captain with all they’ve got. That’s our chance to escape. Let’s take that opening.”

That was why he’d left the village in such a visible way. He was acting as a decoy to draw the enemy’s focus. Comprehending the unspoken nuance that the captain didn’t stand much chance of victory, the headman blushed and hung his head. The captain had gone to battle prepared to die in order to create a chance for the villagers to escape… The headman hadn’t realized, and his misunderstanding made him angry. He must have been ashamed of himself.

“And here I was thinking… Oh, Lord Ainz, what can I…? What should we do?”

“What do you mean?”

“We live near the forest, but we were never attacked by monsters. We were only lucky, but we mistook luck as safety and forgot how to defend ourselves. The result is that many of our neighbors have been killed and we’ve been a burden on everyone…” Not only the headman’s expression, but those of the villagers behind him, too, were full of regret.

“There was nothing you could have done. Your opponents were veterans. If you had put up a fight, it’s possible you’d have all died before I arrived.”

He tried to comfort them, but he didn’t sense their sorrow letting up at all. Really, this was not something words would fix. All he could do was pray that time would heal them.

“Mr. Headman, we don’t have much time. We should get going so the captain’s resolve will not be in vain.”

“Y-yes, you’re right. What are you planning to do, Lord Ainz?”

“I’m going to keep an eye on things and escape with all of you when the time is right.”

“We’re bothering you again…”

“Please don’t worry about it. I promised the captain I would protect you. For now, please gather all the villagers in one of the bigger houses. I’ll cast a bit of magic defense.”

4

He could feel the horse’s agitation in his legs. Even though the mount was trained to be a warhorse, or perhaps precisely because he was so trained, he’d picked up on the fact that they were heading to their doom.

There were only four or five opponents, but they were spread out to surround the village. Because of that, the space between them was wide, but they must have been creating a perfect cage somehow.

In other words, a total trap. Step inside and the jaws of death would open.

Gazef knew that, but he was going to try to break through. That was the only option he had.

He had no chance of winning at range against casters. If he had some archers or someone with the talent and resources to fight at range, it might have been different, but since he didn’t, he had to avoid a ranged battle.

Fighting it as a siege would be ridiculous.

Maybe if they’d had a stone fortress with big thick walls, but wooden houses wouldn’t do a thing to block magic. One wrong move and the village would be burned down.

There was one last way, but he felt it was definitely the moral low road: Fight inside the village such that Ainz Ooal Gown got caught up in it, forcing him to help.

But if he was going to use a plan like that, his reason for coming to this village in the first place would be lost. That’s why he chose the thorny path.

“We’ll attack the enemy to draw them out of their circle and then retreat. We can’t miss that chance!”

His men gave a spirited reply behind him, and he furrowed his brow.

How many of us will make it out of this alive?

It wasn’t as if any of them were talent holders; they were all just what they seemed, but they had come up through Gazef’s training and were the product of hard, unceasing work. It would be a shame to lose them.

Gazef knew he was making a stupid move, but his men followed him anyway. He turned to shout an apology for getting them mixed up in this, but when he saw their expressions, he swallowed every word.

They were the faces of warriors. Their expressions showed their determination to see this through despite knowing what lay in store. It wouldn’t be right to apologize to these men, who had decided to follow him despite the danger. He felt embarrassed, but his men peppered him with encouragement.

“Don’t worry about it, Captain!”

“Yeah, we’re here because we want to be! We’re with you to the end!”

“Please allow us to protect our country, its people, and our friends!”

Gazef no longer had any words.

He faced forward and howled, “Let’s go! We’re gonna rip their guts out!”

“Yaaaaaah!”

Gazef spurred his horse and was off and running. His men followed. The horses galloped at full speed, kicking up dirt as they went across the plain straight as an arrow.

As he rode, Gazef took out his bow and nocked an arrow. Rocking with his horse, he drew casually and let go. The arrow flew true and sunk into the head of a caster in front of them—or at least it seemed like it was going to.

“Tch! So these won’t do anything… If I had magic arrows, they’d work, but whining about things I don’t have won’t get me anywhere.”

The arrow had bounced off as if the caster were wearing a solid helmet. That bizarre hardness had to be due to some kind of magic spell. As far as Gazef knew, to penetrate magic that protected against projectile weapons, one needed an enchanted weapon. He didn’t have one, so he gave up on shooting and put away his bow.

The casters countered with magic. Gazef braced himself mentally to resist, but just then his horse screamed, rearing back and pawing the air with his hooves.

“Whoa! Easy, boy!” Gazef frantically pulled the reins in and leaned forward to grab hold of the horse’s neck. That split-second action saved him from falling. The sudden panic sent a chill down his spine, but he managed to suppress it. He had more important things to worry about.

Breathing heavily, irregularly, Gazef spurred his horse, but he wouldn’t budge. It was as if he had some other master who was more important than the one on top of him. Psychic magic—they’d put a spell on his horse. Gazef must have resisted it, but his horse was no magical creature; there was no way the animal would’ve been able to resist.

He dismounted, irritated with himself for failing to foresee such an obvious attack. His men rode carefully around him, parting to either side.

“Captain!” The riders at the tail end of the group slowed down and held out their hands. They meant to pull him up onto one of their horses. But an angel bent on not letting him get away flew over faster. Gazef took aim and whipped out his sword.

A sturdy swing.

The strongest man in the kingdom brandished his sword, and it had the force to cut through anything. Though he cut deeply into the angel’s flesh, however, it wasn’t enough to kill it.

The blood it coughed up dispersed as a puff of the same magical energy that made up its body.

“I’m fine! Turn around and charge!” After giving the order, he glared sharply at the angel that had gotten away. It was seriously wounded but was still raring for a fight and looking for an opening to attack him.

“I see.” Something had felt off when he’d brought his sword down, and he realized now what it had been. Some monsters took very little damage unless a weapon of a specific make was used. Angels had that power. That’s why it’d been able to take that blow without falling.

In that case— Gazef gathered the power within him and used the martial art Focus Battle Aura. His blade began to glow faintly. Taking advantage of the opening, the angel brought down its crimson sword, but—

“You’re too late!” To the strongest warrior around, it was way too slow. His sword flew. This slice couldn’t even be compared to the previous one—he ripped easily through the angel’s body.

Its structure collapsed, and the angel melted into the air. The way its feathers glittered as they disappeared was like a captivating illusion. If he weren’t in such a hopeless situation, enveloped in the stench of blood, he might have marveled, but his focus was already elsewhere.

Gazef scanned to see where the next attack would come from, and a wry smile played across his face—the number of enemies had increased. In the couple of moments he’d taken his eyes off of the battlefield at large, the enemy had gathered, along with their angels. It was clear that they’d achieved it by no ordinary means.

“Dammit, you can do anything with magic!” He cursed the casters who could perform feats impossible for a warrior like they were trivialities, but calmly counted them and confirmed that it was all the members who had been encircling the village.

So the village was no longer surrounded.

“Okay, Sir Gown, I’m counting on you.”

His heart filled with joy for being able to save the lives, which had seemed beyond his grasp, but he remained on guard and stared down the enemy.

The sound of pounding hooves grew louder in Gazef’s ears—his men had turned and were charging.

“I thought I told them once the circle started contracting we were going to retreat. Those idiots… I’m so damn proud of them…”

Gazef ran like the wind.

This was perhaps their biggest and only chance. Judging from the speed of the riders, their opponents would probably concentrate their magic on them to prevent them from getting closer. That would give Gazef the opportunity to turn this into a melee battle. That was the only thing he could do.

His men’s horses screamed and threw their front legs into the air like his had. Some of the men fell and groaned. Then, the angels attacked.

His men and the angels were evenly matched in terms of strength, but when it came to basic and special abilities, his men were overwhelmingly inferior. As he expected, half of the angels ganged up on them. It wasn’t only that—the spells the casters lobbed into the fray created a definite power gap.

One after another, his men fell to the ground.

Gazef ran, not even looking to confirm what he already knew.

His aim was the commanding priest. Not that he thought killing him would make them back down, but it was the only way he and his men would survive. In response to his charge, more than thirty angels moved into his path. That proved what a serious threat they felt he was, but it didn’t make him a bit happy.

“You’re in my way!” He engaged the ace up his sleeve. The heat from his hand wrapped around his entire body. He flesh went beyond its limits and he achieved hero level. At the same time he simultaneously unleashed multiple martial arts—the equivalent of magic spells for a warrior.

He glared at the six angels leaping for him: “Sixfold Slash of Light!” It was a martial art performed at a godly speed, over in a flash. One swing, six slashes. The six angels around him were cut in two and disintegrated into specks of light.

From the Slane Theocracy’s side came alarmed voices—from Gazef’s men, cheers.

His arm was prickling after using such a major art, but he could tell the pain was at a level where his muscles hadn’t deteriorated.

As if ordered to cut the cheering short, a new group of angels headed for them right away. One of them broke off and came swinging at Gazef.

“Instant Reflex!” The moment the angel’s sword came down, the spell activated and Gazef moved in a blur. Before the angel’s sword could rip through him, he’d dispatched the angel with his. In one blow, the angel turned into specks of light.

Gazef’s offensive didn’t end there. “Flow Acceleration!” In fluid motions, he slashed through the angels coming toward him.

He’d taken down another two angels after using a major art. Seeing their captain pull off a feat that would be impossible for a normal person began to give the men hope that they could do it, that they could win.

But the theocracy wasn’t about to allow that. Their taunts drowned out the hopeful aura.

“Superb. But that’s all. Priests who’ve lost angels, summon the next! Bombard Stronoff with magic!”

They’d been approaching hope but were plunged back into despair.

“Not good,” Gazef spat as he dispatched another angel. There were no more cheers even when he got a kill. His men all swung their swords with fretful looks on their faces.

Manpower, gear, experience, individual strength—on almost all accounts, they came up short, and now they had lost their main weapon, the hope that they’d win.

Gazef dodged the swords that came down around him unconsciously and then hammered back at the enemy. He was definitely making angels disappear with each swing, but there were still so many.

He would have liked to anticipate the help of his men, but magical weapons were necessary to cancel out the angels’ defensive ability. Without being able to use Focus Battle Aura, like Gazef, they didn’t have magical weapons, and therefore even if they could hurt the angels, they couldn’t do fatal damage. That was a problem.

Gazef bit his bottom lip and just kept swinging.

How many times had he made the words death in one blow true? He’d used Sixfold Slash of Light so many times he’d surpassed his previous record.

A warrior of Gazef’s caliber could normally use six martial arts at once. With his last resort in effect, that went up to seven. He was using one to boost his strength, one to boost his mind, one to boost his magic resistance, one to temporarily enchant his weapon, and one when he attacked for a total of five.

The reason he wasn’t reaching the limit was because using a strong art took the focus of multiple normal ones—Sixfold Slash of Light, in particular, took the concentration of three. Even Gazef only had two other major arts, one that used all his focus and one that used the focus of four normal arts.

By making good use of his arts, he was able to easily defeat the angels. But they were only summons, anyway. If he didn’t take out the summoner, there would just be more summoned. Biding his time until his opponent ran out of magic was one strategy, but Gazef would probably be out of energy before that happened.

In actuality, his arms were starting to feel heavy and his heartbeat was becoming irregular. Instant Reflex would take his body thrown off-balance by the previous attack and force it to return to attack stance. That made it possible for him to attack immediately, but the forced posture changes were a large burden on his body.

Flow Acceleration temporarily increased the speed at which his nerves worked, so he could attack faster, but extreme exhaustion was mounting in his brain.

And on top of all that, he was using Sixfold Slash of Light. It was too big a burden on his flesh. But if he didn’t use it, he’d be overtaken.

“As many as you got, bring ’em on! Your angels are nothing, you bastards!” The roar meant to overwhelm them froze the Slane Theocracy side for just a moment. Almost immediately, however, a composed voice broke the tension.

“Pay him no mind! The beast is just barking, trapped in his cage! Ignore it and keep chipping away at him! Just whatever you do, don’t approach—the beast has long claws.”

Gazef glared at the man with the scar. If he could take down that commander, the course of this battle would surely change immediately. The problem was the angel at his side, different from the ones with the flame swords. That and the seemingly insurmountable distance and the defenses that were put up again and again.

He was far away. He was so far away.

“The beast is trying to break through the fence. Show him how futile that is!” The man’s composed voice bothered him.

Even if he’d entered the hero realm, Gazef had specialized in martial arts for close combat, so he didn’t have much of a chance at range. So what? That’s the only path left to me, so I just have to take it. Strength returned to his eyes, and he set off running. But the path was as difficult as he’d imagined.

The angel’s burning swords stabbed and slashed at him. He countered instantly upon evading but was suddenly assailed by a sharp pain, like he’d taken a heavy blow to the gut.

Sensing the direction, he looked up and found a caster casting some kind of spell. “If only you guys used healing magic like priests are suppose—” His words were drowned out by the shock waves that pummeled him to the ground.

He was confident that if there were fewer, even if they were invisible, he’d have been able to dodge them by sensing the atmosphere and watching his opponents’ eyes. But when there were more than thirty, he couldn’t handle them all. It was all he could do to shield his sword arm and face.

A pain so terrible it seemed like he’d never get up ran through his entire body. There were so many places that hurt that he couldn’t tell where, specifically, he was injured. “Gyaghh!” Unable to stand the taste of iron building in his throat, he coughed up fresh blood. The high viscosity caused it to string down his chin.

Gazef was still staggering from the round of invisible shock waves when the angels came at him with their swords. The blows he couldn’t dodge hit his armor and were luckily repelled, but the shock that transferred through still hurt. He swiped sideways at one angel, but it easily evaded his unbalanced attack.

His breathing was rough, and his hands shook. The intense fatigue filling his entire body whispered that he should just lie down and rest.

“The hunt is in its final stage. Let’s give the beast a rest. Don’t let up with your angels—take turns attacking!”

He tried to catch his breath, but the angels surrounding him followed their commander’s orders and came at him swinging. He dodged an attack coming from behind and blocked a thrust from the side with his sword. The jabs from flying angels overhead he took with the harder parts of his armor. He couldn’t attack enough times to keep up with the ones he had to fend off.

The fatigue and his dwindling muscular strength made killing one angel per swing almost impossible at this point. He barely had enough energy to use martial arts.

His men were all defeated, and the enemy was concentrating their attack on him. He couldn’t break through their circle. He could sense that death had sidled right up behind him.

A moment’s negligence would find him on his knees, and he tried to put some fight into his body.

The shock waves pummeled him again as he frantically endured. His eyes swam. No! He put all his body and soul into his back and legs, but it was as if something somewhere were broken—the energy he could have sworn he was putting in seemed to leak out.

Suddenly he felt the prickle of meadow grass on his skin. That was proof that he had fallen. He panicked and desperately tried to stand, but he couldn’t. The encroaching angels’ swords chanted death.

“Finish him. Gang up so the job gets done beyond doubt.”

I’m going to die.

His muscular arms trembled like jelly, and he couldn’t even lift his sword. But he couldn’t give up. He clenched his teeth so hard they made a horrible grinding sound.

He wasn’t afraid to die. He knew that just as he had taken many lives along the way, one day he, too, would die in battle.

As Ainz said, he’d made enemies. Their hatred had turned into a blade that one day had to be thrust into his gut.

But he couldn’t accept this, this attacking of multiple villages and killing of innocent people who had no way to fight back. All that just to trap him? That made him sick—he couldn’t lose his life to people like that. And he couldn’t stand not being able to save himself.

“Grahhhhh! I’m not that easy!” he screamed and gave his body all he had. Drooling a mix of spit and blood, he slowly got to his feet.

The determination of a man who shouldn’t have had the power to stand, standing, caused a momentary retreat among the angels who had closed in.

“Ahhhhgh-ahhhgh.” Just standing had Gazef out of breath, made his head spin; his body felt like it was made of lead. But he couldn’t lie down. It just wouldn’t do.

And it wasn’t that he sympathized with the pain of the villagers who had died. “I’m captain of the Royal Select! I love and protect this country! I can’t lose to bastards like you who would defile it!” Gown will protect the villagers. So my job is just to take out as many of these guys as possible to reduce, even just a little bit, the chance that more people meet this fate.

He would protect the future of the country by protecting its people. That was all.

“It’s precisely because you spout fantasies like that that you’ll die here, Gazef Stronoff,” the enemy commander taunted. “If you had just forsaken the people in this borderland, this wouldn’t have happened. You life is worth more than several thousand villagers’ lives. Surely you must realize that! If you really loved your country, you would have left them to die.”

“You and I…will never see eye to eye. Let’s do this!”

“What do you plan to ‘do’ in that state exactly? Quit your futile flailing and die quietly. I’ll take pity on you and kill you painlessly.”

“If you don’t think…I can do anything…then why don’t you come over here…and take my head? In this ‘state’…it should be pretty easy, no?”

“Hmm. So you can still talk the talk, huh? You seem to want to fight, but do you stand a chance?”

Gazef just stared ahead, clasping his sword in trembling hands, focused on his hateful enemy even as his vision seemed about to blur. He was so focused he couldn’t even see the angels surrounding him ready to attack.

“…Such a pointless endeavor. You’re just too foolish. After we kill you, we’re going to kill the surviving villagers. All you’ve done is bought them more time to be tormented by fear.”

“Heh…heh-heh…,” Gazef laughed in response, a grin spreading across his face.

“What’s so funny?”

“Gah… The foolish one is you. There’s someone in that village who is stronger than me. His power is so unfathomable I’m not sure all of you would be enough to take them… There’s…agh…there’s no way you’ll be able to kill the villagers if he’s protecting them.”

“Stronger than the kingdom’s most powerful warrior? You think a bluff like that will work on me? That’s the height of stupidity.”

Gazef smiled faintly. What will Nigun look like when he meets Ainz Ooal Gown? That thought would be a good souvenir for the next world.

“Angels, kill him.” The beating of countless wings sounded over his heartless words.

As Gazef was about to make a run for it, prepared to die in the process, he heard a voice right next to him:

“Seems about time I swap in.”

The scenery before Gazef changed. He was no longer on the crimson-dyed plain. He was in the corner of some kind of humble dwelling with perhaps a dirt floor.

His men were scattered around him and villagers were there, looking at him with concern.

“Wh-where am I…?”

“This is a storehouse that Lord Ainz put a magic barrier over.”

“The headman…? I don’t seem to see Sir Gown…”

“No, he was here up until a moment ago, but you appeared right where he was.”

So it was your voice in my head…

The tension he’d been desperately trying to maintain went out of his body. He’d done everything he could do. The villagers rushed over to him as he collapsed to the ground.

The Six Scriptures… Even the kingdom’s strongest warrior couldn’t beat them. But no one thought Ainz Ooal Gown would lose.