On a distant shore, in an unknown land
The full light of the moon was out tonight, illuminating the world in its sleepy hues. The hulking form of a charcoal grey wolf prowled along the half-dead forest. Random patches of emerald hell-fire burned eternally, but did not spread or otherwise consume the still living portions of the forest.
All manner of exotic prey thrived in the world around him, some from his old home, and some that lived originally in the land. He knew not how or why, but many of the inhabitants that came with him to populate this land were quite weak, weaker even than the ones who battled him at the golden palace of the gods.
They inhabited peacefully with some of the native prey, but the larger predators that came with him quickly established themselves as the dominant species, with him alone at the top of the food chain. The sentient races of this land developed, over the course of many centuries, a delicate balance of being able to fend off those monsters from his old home and barely managing to avoid them.
Like him, they avoided the green fire, instinctually knowing the meaning of it and tucking their tails between their legs or exposing their throats in an act of submission. That was an aspect of the world ever since the wolf awoke there. A persistent flame, one all too familiar and foreshadowing ominous warnings. He did not know relatively where his new home was in the world, but he knew that anywhere that fire was merely bidded its time until the next great disaster came along.
Prey was plentiful, and he was twice the size of the humans' dens that shared this land with him. He had no desire to hunt the humans for sport, or otherwise fight them for whatever forces compelled him previously.
He experienced a cycle of life and death enough for a thousand lifetimes as a result of fighting others, he lacked the willpower to do it all again.
At least his siblings came to this world with him as well. He could not sense where his sister was precisely, only felt the steady hum of her life force deep in his chest. His brother was far easier to find, given his gargantuan size.
His padded feet felt the transition from cool, moist earth to loose sand. He had arrived at the meeting place, the moonlight giving a glossy glow to the lapping waves of the beach.
That area in particular was the only place in this land the fires dared not touch, or even exist outright. Tall cliffs of tan and brownish rock scaled up high into the sky, a natural wall of defense from nature itself. Jagged rocks sprinkled the beach line, a result of the edges of the cliff eroding away and flaking pieces of itself on the beach below. It would make ship landing very difficult, since the edges of those boulders were sharpened to deadly points.
In the wall, the entrance of the forest, which was barely big enough to fit him, was the only way to make it past. He once ran across the beach in both directions for many leagues, and found the cliffs to be unbroken in their density. Not even the inhabitants, in their mighty fortress cities, were able to stake out a living here, hence why he chose it as a meeting place for his brother and him.
He sat down on his haunches, scratching at his snout where a rope had previously bound it closed. His left eye was dull, damaged in his battle with Havi. A minor loss, for he had full access to all of his senses, as any supreme hunter did.
There were scars on his snout still from the burning touch of the rope, and he managed to remove the chains that were wrapped around his body and his ankles shortly after he arrived. The rope was taken away long ago, by the one who claimed the title of his daughter.
How curious, to call yourself my child, but in order to do so, you must strike the killing blow. Such is the way of an apex, to be brought low by a stronger generation.
He leaned his head back and howled low and long, singing his moon-loving song for all to hear. It echoed across the vast ocean, before sinking into the waves for the sea to memorize.
At first, nothing happened. The waves continued along their pre-destined path, unmoved by his mournful cry.
There needed to be patience, for his brother's immense size meant he must slither carefully, lest he upend the entire world. Despite this, a low growl rose in the back of the wolf's throat.
Then the waves stopped. Not just slowed, or changed direction, but fully stopped. The surface of an entire ocean calmed, a sign of what, or who, was to come.
Next, the water came to a boil, massive vortices and whirlpools sending all manner of fish sprawling out of the water and gasping for air. Not one to let an opportunity get away, the wolf snagged a few dozen fish, swallowing the lot whole.
Churning and swirling in on itself, the whirlpools combined into a singular gate, an entryway for which something would arise. He could see the tip of a fin, then the rest of it piercing the surface of the water. It could easily stand taller than even the cliff, and that was not taking into account the head it was attached to. Other fins were attached to the side of the serpentine face and trailing along the coiling neck.
He could see the scaled nose, and the beak that covered the very tip of his snout. Strands of seaweed hung from the ear canals of his streamlined head. The mighty serpent yawned, his jaw opening and flexing the needle teeth that normally hid in his gums. It was too difficult to gaze upon the face of his brother all at once, so it was best to focus on a small portion of the face to avoid sensory overload. Even with this suggestion in mind, there was much to look at and study.
Waterfalls fell from the crevices of his scales, and miniature tsunamis smashed against the cliff walls. Thankfully, they were diverted by nuanced movements on his brother's part, so a light mist brushed his fur coat.
Raised, armored ridges signified the eyebrows, heavy scales acting as protection for the serpent's sensitive eyes alongside the nictitating membrane, which opened to reveal orbs the color of amber, the same color as his.
When the last of his needed length rose above the ocean's surface, the aquatic serpent shook his head, spraying the last of the water attached to his slick coat.
"Heil og sæl…Fenrir," his brother greeted, inclining his head and blocking out the light of the moon with the crux of his brow. His voice was a thrumming baritone, gentle but shaking the world with each syllable.
Fenrir bowed his head as well. "Heil og sæl, Jormungandr. I trust the prey of the oceans have been plentiful and fattened to sate your hunger."
"Prey is plentiful indeed, brother, but the seas have grown agitated as of late. The mermen's patience wears… thin, and the mirelurks of the deep chitter with restlessness. Those who inhabitant the sea and the god who leads them are fearful for their place in the world, the great upending of it."
"As do all lesser species in the hierarchy, but you would not tell me this unless it was worth sniffing out," Fenrir yawned dismissively.
Jorumungandr grumbled in a halting tone. "There were… emissaries of the dragon lords crossing my waters. They have come again, seeking out the Harbinger of the Wolf."
A growl lept unbidden from his throat. "Have they no respect for territory? Thrice you have turned them away, thrice you have warned them to stay away, and thrice you have annihilated their vessels of wood and metal. How much longer will it take for them to understand this?"
"Something has… changed in the land beyond the sea, in the continent where the last of the dragon lords reside. An old apex is rising, once thought to be doomed as fodder to the Sea of Possibilities forever."
That stopped any further retort from Fenrir, who was preparing a snappy remark. His ears laid flat against his head while he pondered the implications of his brother's prediction.
An old apex was rising? That was absurd, for he and his brother were the greatest of their respective ecosystems. Nothing would ever dare to challenge either of them, even if their desire to battle had waned.
What else could rise up as an apex? The only other creatures capable of such a feat…
"So he is not dead afterall, despite the dragon lords' efforts," Fenrir surmised, "To sacrifice the entire world, nearly all of their kin, and still fail in the end. They were not worthy of their title as rulers of this world."
"But until his arrival, even the other lord species were hesitant to rise above their station. Their emperor chose poorly his method of a living death," Jormungandr agreed, swaying in the wind. His movements caused the tide to recede, leaving many fish and crabs exposed to the night air.
They basked in each other's presence a while, enjoying the comfortable silence between them. In all the world, only they felt as each other's equals, despite their apparent size difference.
It was not known how many more like them existed in the world. They only knew of each other because of the bond they shared as siblings. They could not sense their father, nor their mother, which meant it was likely they did not pass the veil of the Well. There was one other in the land he resided in, but it was slow and stupid, mocked even by the godlings and used as
What they did know of, however, was the existence of godlings. Once every one hundred moons, Fenrir guessed, a new batch of them would arrive. Most appeared in the continent across the ocean, making their mark and carving their histories over there.
Some appeared in the current continent that he called home. Nearly all of them recognized him, an instinctual response that he shared himself. More often than not, he was forced to fend them off, for they strived to slay him and end his existence. Those were the few times he broke his own rule and fought back.
He used to wonder if that was all his life would amount to. The same old cycle of continual strife and bloodshed for the sake of bloodshed. He achieved his revenge for his confinement, having eaten the one responsible for it.
Maybe that was not his destiny. Maybe the hunt would take the greatest wolf in all the nine worlds as recompense for the upheaval of the natural balance. Maybe the godlings and their unquenchable bloodlust was his eternal punishment, or so he used to think.
In recent centuries, a godling who fashioned herself as a priestess of the country she resided in came to him. Rather than hunt him or try to deceive him with the treachery that all godlings were known for, she offered him a genuine connection. He could have a place of honor in her house, revered as a divine beast by the people, for they were witness to his own legendary exploits.
When he accepted the deal, he wasn't sure why. Wolves do not pity easily, and he thought his brother was enough to keep him company. It wasn't until he actually traveled to those cities where the sentient races lived and bred together that he realized how utterly bored he became over the centuries, and how lonely. Despite the priestess's efforts, his new status among her people only exacerbated it. He was quick to leave after that.
Now, however, twelve new ones came, awakening in his territory. They were of the few who did not hunt him on sight and, in a rare move of intelligence like the priestess before, struck an uneasy agreement with him.
He would act as their guide, teaching them the lay of the land and the rules of nature that accompanied it. He even led them to the priestess's home city, so that they may trade with her and find a new home if they so chose. Without fail, though, they chose to stay with him, to carve out their own existence as the new godlings of this world.
It was not something he was used to, but it was a situation he begrudgingly came to enjoy. These days, his loneliness and boredom was practically nonexistent.
A thoughtful grumble came from Jormungandr. "I do not wish to fight anymore, Fenrir. For too many centuries, I have had to bar the way from those foolish enough to tread my waters. Before, always it was a cycle of life, death, and rebirth, constantly slain by godlings. I grow tired from this."
"As do I, brother. Perhaps one day, my packmates will be able to enlighten the ones who come after, and the Well will open up wide enough to let through our old homes. If the black dragon truly is returning, we may have to fight one last time."
Jormungandr huffed, creating a powerful current that swept away part of the beach, and a section of the cliff with it. "Then perhaps it is time the dragon lords receive what it is they come for. They will need it in the times ahead. I grow tired from guarding that accursed gauntlet as well."
Fenrir nodded in agreement. "Be certain to bare your fangs and roar with all your might, show them that you are not the necklace of the earth for nothing. Show them that their time has passed, and it is time to make way for new apexes."
The waves churned with the world serpent's excitement at the prospect. In the midst of it, he paused, giving his brother an intense stare. While his reptilian features did not convey emotion easily, his animated eyes more than made up for it. He stared back at the wolf, hard enough that Fenrir nearly averted his own gaze.
"Be warned, oh Devourer of the Gods, oh Harbinger of Ragnarok… your daughter is here, as are the godlings that were with her that fateful day in Asgard. They rest, secluded from prying eyes, but my reach extends deep into the bowels of the earth. Their fortress digs into the dirt, displacing it enough to not escape my notice."
The wolf's ears perked up. "She has arrived? You are certain? There can be no mistake that she is of my blood?"
"Indeed. The world is changing, brother. What once slumbered rises from its sleep, and what should have remained vigilant sags in its temper. I fear, soon, that the dragon lords will lose control of the Well, and the Sea of Possibilities will lose its most faithful guardian."
"The eagle fades in its watch?"
"That, or Yggdrasil calls back for it, or its soul will pass the veil into this realm, weakened and alone, just as the falcon, Vedrfolnir, did. Too many uncertainties pile up, clouding my vision and obscuring what once was clear. We are being manipulated."
Finally, Jormungandr began to descend beneath the waves. Right before his eyes sank, he slowly blinked at Fenrir, who mimed the action back. Satisfied, the serpent disappeared and returned back to the ocean depths.
It wasn't until the tide returned back to normal and the waves lapped at the shore that the wolf realized how quiet it became. He took a small bit of pride in knowing that when he and others like him walked the earth, it stopped and listened to what he had to say.
Wherever his sister lay, he hoped that no other apexes battled her for dominance of her territory. He did not entertain the idea of her original domain passing the veil, but nowadays, anything could be possible.
That was an issue for another time. Now his hunger came back, the meager snack of fish earlier wearing off. He would need to bring back enough for the others to eat as well, but not until he had his fill. It was only right, as the pack leader after all.
He plodded back through the entrance of the forest, taking care not to snap the trees of his home away from home. He would need to let his honorary packmates know about what transpired between his brother and him.
Nazarick, Ninth Floor, The Nursery
Momonga, Punitto Moe, Genjiro, and Ancient One all stood close together, watching in a mixture of anticipation and enthusiasm, or as much of the two emotions that Momonga could feel.
For the last two or so weeks, their resident Arachne trapmaster spent most of his time dedicated to either cleaning up the treasury, or nurturing his new pet project: the bug queen egg.
Nearata's higher tier appraisal skills helped immeasurably in understanding the basic needs and wants of the bug queen, even if it hadn't hatched yet, and provided some much needed details about the creature that made it more valuable than initially believed.
While it was true that the bug queen could only accept DNA samples from creatures of up to level thirty-five, once they were born and properly trained, possibly given equipment, they could exceed their initial level, but the process would be a long and arduous one to get them to competitive levels on par with summons.
The bug queen itself could also level up, but Nearata's appraisal skills revealed little in the way that it could be accomplished. The "pet", as it was officially classified as, according to Nearata, would have an initial level of seventy once hatched and fully matured.
Genjiro was the most excited out of all of them, caring for the egg and ensuring it was as comfortable as possible. It got to such a point that some of the guild jokingly nicknamed him "mother".
Despite his efforts, nothing he did hastened the hatching speed of his new pet, citing that it was merely a timer, and that nothing beyond a cash shop item would make it happen any faster. Not that Momonga or any of the others were complaining.
Quite the opposite, Momonga couldn't help but to praise his good friend's attention to detail and diligence in ensuring the bug queen's egg was safe. Though, it did lead to some odd…behaviors.
"Are you sure that's really necessary?" Momonga asked, mentally raising an eyebrow, "I mean, I can understand you making it a nest and all, but I'm not so sure about the outfit."
Genjiro huffed, his mandibles clicking together. "Uh, yeah! I've got to make this thing as happy as possible! We don't know how its behavior will change as a result of being born in the New World, what if it imprints on the first thing it sees? I got to make a good impression."
"Which is commendable," Ancient One interjected, "but I am liable to agree with Momonga. Your choice of garments is questionable, if somewhat humorous."
"At least Whitebrim was thrilled," Punitto Moe grumbled, crossing his arms.
The outfit in question was, of course, a maid outfit not dissimilar to the ones the maids of the tomb wore. It had been magically tailored to better fit Genjiro's skinny, insectoid frame, which made him simultaneously cute and horrifying. Entoma definitely approved, as did Grant.
The arachnid held a duster in one of his smaller hands, brushing up on some of the bedding that the tar-colored egg sat on. A heating lamp was placed over it, keeping it warm.
"Okay, maybe I let him talk me into wearing this to see if I could try out the new design he's been working on, but the aesthetic fits!" Genjiro defended.
"Wouldn't something like a chicken outfit work better? You could at least sit on it then," Momonga offered.
"Pfft, this is a bug queen, not a chicken queen. Plus, I'm afraid I'd accidently crush it, as I still don't know the upper limits of my strength."
"Fair enough. It's a good thing you got the nursery all to yourself otherwise, you wouldn't want to stress out the little one when it hatches."
A statement that never rang truer, in Momonga's mind at least. The nursery had been cold and dark for many years before his friends' return to Nazarick, since many of them already raised the pets they wanted or didn't bother.
Pets as a concept in Yggdrasil was one that was commonly used in cases like rearing mount-based creatures, such as Variable Talisman's wyvern, though some were merely companions, like Mitsuki the sapphire slime.
An addition like a nursery was a minor but necessary need, given the diversity of the guildmates and their tastes. The room looked more like a laboratory fused with a barn, since there were stables in the back where farm-based or mount-based animals were raised.
Several egg incubators were also strewn around the room, able to fit a wide variety of egg types, save for the bug queen itself, which required special accommodations. Equipment racks packed with treats, medicines, healing remedies, and calling whistles were placed next to raised tables, serving any number of purposes.
There were also crystal screens that contained relevant data on all the pets of Ainz Ooal Gown, ranging from "companion" class to "war-mount" class. Not everyone had a pet, but if they chose to raise one, the library of Ashurbanipal and the database would give them most of the information needed to raise whatever pet they desired.
Except for now, in Genjiro's case.
"I still can't believe I lost it all those years ago," the arachnid chittered sadly, "I feel like if I hadn't and we raised it properly, we might've had some extra reinforcements for the Eight Guild Invasion."
"Only to realize that we possessed little to no information on it, old friend," Ancient One replied, "Should you have found it, there is no guarantee we would have been able to produce troops fast enough to be able to withstand invasion forces. Better we have it here, in a weaker environment, where it can be more useful far sooner."
"I guess you're right. I appreciate you guys coming to check up on me, but you're still a little too early. When Nearata checked its status last, he said the timer on it wouldn't expire until later this evening. That's still a few hours away."
"Better to come give you company than to let you rot hidden away, taking care of the egg," Momonga said. He reached up and laid his hand on his friend's shoulder.
"Speaking of which, we should go and check up on Carne Village. Bellriver's still waiting for us, and it's about time we start introducing ourselves slowly to his pet project," Punitto Moe reminded the guild leader.
"Ah yes, best not to leave him hanging," he said, "Genjiro, do be sure to send us a message when it's time. We are eager to see the results of this experiment, given Blue Planet's is still progressing slowly."
"Will do man," Genjiro affirmed, going back to dusting the egg and rearranging the scraps of chitin and insect parts that were graciously donated from Kyouhukou to make up the nest bedding.
Momonga, Punitto Moe, and Ancient One utilized a [Gate] to get to their destination, an easy enough feat for one of the skeletal overlord's class. Before they passed through, they put on their needed disguises, as the villagers of Carne either possessed no knowledge of their true form or had no memory of it.
When they passed through, they came to an idyllic scene. A portion of Carne had expanded, not for more housing, but rather as a "park" area where the villagers could enjoy nature without leaving their walls.
Since so many people were joining the population of the wayward village, constant expansions were taking place to make room. Not all were for houses, as suggested by Bellriver, who came back to serve as a guardian for the village.
The park area was one such idea, recommended in part as a recreational area and an attempt to expand the title of Carne from "village" to "town" or even "city". It was not much, a simple space no more than a quarter of an acre, and it was placed on the outskirts of the place.
A few bushes, some healthy oak trees, a bench or two, and a miniature pond with some koi fish provided by Ainz Ooal Gown, and it proved to be a popular spot for some of the families there.
One such family received the brunt of the trio's surprise visit, the father falling off the bench from the sudden opening of the [Gate]. The man stood back up, ready to tell them off, when his face brightened at recognizing who they were.
"Ah! The Sirs of Ainz Ooal Gown!" The man exclaimed, catching the attention of his two sons, who were playing at the edge of the pond. They rushed over to meet them, joyously grabbing at Momonga's robes.
The guild leader laughed, holding up a hand. "Apologies, I did not mean to startle you as I did. I'm certain you recognize me, but these are two of my associates, whom I wanted the village to meet."
As with most people in the New World, the father had to crane his neck to look the disguised heteromorphs in the eye. "A pleasure to be sure! Please, allow me to introduce you to everyone. I'll bring you to the Town House, or I could take you to the square, where the other Sir was."
"The second option sounds wonderful, thank you," Ancient One interjected, "We have business with him, and I believe he wished to show us around and give us an update on all that has occurred in this quaint little village."
The father nodded in agreement, calling his sons back and taking the lead. The three guildmates followed diligently, taking the chance to admire the village and all that its inhabitants accomplished.
As they got into the thick of the houses, more and more people recognized their forms, immediately coming out of their houses to gawk in awe and point out Momonga specifically. This was no surprise, given they recognized him from his first visit.
He made sure to don the same mask and gauntlets as the first time, while Punitto Moe and Ancient One used illusion spells as their method of hiding. He couldn't see what they were disguised as, but the purple sheen that outlined them was enough to know the spells were working.
"Look honey, it's them!"
"The Sirs of Ainz Ooal Gown have returned!"
"Do you think they'll stay for dinner?"
"I wonder what they have planned for us this time?"
Pride swelled in Momonga's chest at hearing the obvious happiness and respect the villagers had for his guild. While fear served as an excellent reputation in Yggdrasil, it felt equally nice to be loved and adored as well, especially as saviors.
Emotion may not have run deep in him ever since his arrival in his new body, but there were times that his old feelings flared up, like the near worshipfulness of his guild. To see others recognize its grandiosity sparked that.
A throng of people followed them, as they did when he came as Momon of the Argonauts, though the villagers did not know it was him back then. They came to the village center in no time, catching the object of their mission in the middle of a conversation.
Bellriver was speaking to a man Momonga recognized as Rowan, the impromptu-turned-full-time captain of the former Sunlight Scripture, and a pretty, blond haired and green eyed woman he faintly remembered as being called Aeliana. Actually, he recognized her as being Peter's dance partner from when he was adventuring.
Whatever they were discussing was cut short as Bellriver saw them approach, his main mouth closing mid sentence to point them out. An Amulet of Greater Hel dangled on his neck, meaning he took the proper precautions.
"I was wondering when you guys were gonna show up," the gibbering mouther greeted, "Rowan, Aeliana, I know you know Momonga, but these two are other associates of mine."
Rowan stepped up first. "The honor is all mine. I'm pleased to be able to meet more of your group, as you are all rather extraordinary."
The human man stuck out a hand, which Ancient One took first in as gentle of a handshake as he could manage. Punitto Moe held less restraint, letting some of his divine strength pass through.
To his credit, Rowan did his best not to visibly flinch, but the crease around his eyes told enough about what he felt. Aeliana went through the same thing, but her pain bled through more.
"Quite the strong handshake you got there sir," she complimented, shaking her aching limb. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to take it off."
"Oh, do not mind him. He is dissatisfied that he could not prolong the time before this inevitable meeting of ours. He takes pride in planning every detail of his schemes, so when they go "off the rails" so to speak, he gets a tad upset," Ancient One explained.
In response, Punitto Moe yanked out the newspaper from the sleeve of his robe and moved to lightly smack his peer on the head with lightning speed. The demonic seer caught it just as quickly, nimbly removing the rolled up paper and unfolding it into its original shape.
With deft, practiced movements, Ancient One folded the newspaper back up, his hands a blur as he practically molded the item into a new shape. By the end of it, it was an impressive origami rose, which the demon presented with a half-bow.
"For you, my dear," he said in his sonorous tone, giving Aeliana the paper rose. A light blush dusted the woman's cheeks, who gingerly took it from him.
The deathvine battle priest grunted. "You always did know how to charm someone. Not bad, how long did it take you to learn that?"
"Less time than you know, but more than you think," he replied cryptically, which prompted a chuckle from Momonga and Bellriver.
"Well, with introductions out of the way, how about we get back to that idea of yours you guys were presenting me," Bellriver said with a clap of his hands. "I think my friends would be interested in your plan, especially since it concerns the villagers."
Both mages' expressions melted into serious, business oriented ones. Rowan, as usual, took the lead.
"I would be glad to. Sirs of Ainz Ooal Gown, with your permission, we would like to train the people of this village in some of our ways. Combat, magic, if their affinity for it is high enough, and education. We know we are under constant surveillance and probation as part of our atonement, and we wanted to make this a part of that."
"Most people don't usually look to add more onto their sentences without some sort of ulterior motive," Punitto Moe said flatly, "You sure this 'training' isn't just some sort of other way of creating your own little army?"
Aeliana shook her head. "Of course not, sir. What we want to accomplish is a genuine effort on our part. The entire scripture agrees, and we believe it would be to your benefit as well."
"Oh? In what way?" Momonga asked.
"They want to give the village a militia, or just a well-trained fighting force," Bellriver said, standing behind both humans. "Their idea is that if they're ever not needed by the village for protection, or just not wanted anymore once their sentence is up, the people of this village aren't completely left defenseless. It takes less strain off us too, since we wouldn't have to divert as many resources."
"A personal militia does sound advantageous. While I no doubt believe we would completely and willingly do our best to support the people of this fine village, it would do good to know they possess some sort of defense beyond a wall and indentured mages," Ancient One agreed.
"Really? You're absolutely certain about that?" Punitto Moe asked, "It would take a while, at least a few months."
Momonga nodded. "I do not see any harm in it, personally. We have the proper countermeasures in place, the Sunlight Scripture has proven their willingness to make amends, and we cannot have our own constantly surveying this village all the time. If the villagers are willing, I say we give them our blessings and try to proceed,"
In the back of his head, he was curious to see where the proposal might lead. Having a highly trained and magical force like the Sunlight Scripture training ordinary civilians could yield interesting results.
At worst, the proposal would be rejected by the villagers and it would go nowhere, doomed to die before it even began.
There shouldn't be a reason why we can't do this. The village could act as a buffer and public face for our guild, should more people discover who we are. We've been lucky most groups we've interacted with were so isolated from the larger world in the first place.
Finally, Punitto Moe relented. "Alright, but make sure you ask the village leaders what they think, and get a consensus on how many people genuinely want to participate. If you get enough volunteers, I will personally make sure you're well equipped to proceed, and come oversee operations myself with Bellriver."
"Thank you for your generosity, Sir," Rowan replied, raising his hand to shake the deathvine's. This time, there was no wincing from the human commander.
Aeliana gave back the origami rose to Ancient One. "Shall we expect to see more of you in the future? We are still waiting to see if Master Hermetis and his associates will return, but for the moment, only his daughters remain here."
"Oh, I'm sure we will, given Bellriver's persistence in coming here," Momonga said, "We'd hate to see all this hard work fizzle out into nothing, so we will be coming around to keep an eye on things as they go along."
"Then if your schedule is not too busy, why not remain with us for the day? We could give a tour of the village and the work we've accomplished. We would be happy to host you as we have for Sir Bellriver here."
Before the guild leader could give an answer, the spellsword answered for him. "I don't think that's an issue. You can share some of the intel you guys have with the three of them, catch them up to speed."
Sensing there wasn't really a way for him to refuse on behalf of him and the two strategists that accompanied him, he chose the easiest route possible. "But of course. I'm eager to hear what news you bring."
For the rest of the day, Momonga and his entourage were more or less carted around Carne, many of the advancements that were made proudly displayed for their eyes.
It felt almost like a child showing off some science fair project for school, eagerly anticipating positive feedback from their parents and teachers. Many times, when Momonga asked questions regarding some of the inner workings of the village, he was given information that almost completely flew over his head.
Thankfully, his three other guildmates covered for him, picking up his slack when it came to conversing on the finer nuances. Ancient One, Bellriver, and Punitto Moe all played off one another, showing off intellectual skills that few would be able to match.
Hard to think we have such talented people in this guild of outcasts. I feel like a total buffoon just trying to keep up with them in terms of intelligence, and they've always outclassed me when it came to planning ahead and strategy.
Every-so-often, they would make it back to the village square, to admire the steady progress of the stone statue that was being made in his, Bellriver's, and Garnet's honor. The former Slane Theocracy mages were the ones who did the bulk of the chiseling, but an occasional villager would jump in to give their counterparts a break.
Despite the show of camaraderie there, he began to notice the way the villagers, specifically the older ones, watched them. Their stares were invasive, judgemental, even downright hateful towards the Sunlight Scripture members.
They tried to be discreet about it, but the sheer magnitude of so many of them all doing the same thing meant it was felt. Though Momonga knew it was never directed towards him, it was a nuisance nonetheless.
Rowan and Aeliana took it in stride, dutifully speaking with the three heteromorphs in disguise and ignoring the pointed glares sent their way. The fruits of a lifetime of military professionalism, he supposed.
"We still have a long way to go with our own efforts in the village, especially when it comes to mending our image to the villagers, but we hope that when we present our proposals to them, it'll be the first step towards that goal," Aeliana said.
"Take it from us personally, you can try everything there is under the sun, but if the people are not willing to budge, then it is likely they never will," Punitto Moe replied, "But then again, we never did much to try and fix things on our end."
Ancient One tapped his chin. "To be fair, we were also under siege the majority of the time from outside parties. Given our own unique…status among the world, we were never much a priority for alliances."
"Are you referring to the war your group partook in that Wish III showed Nfirea through his memories?" Rowan asked.
"War?" Punitto inquired, "What war?"
"The… war? The one where you and your group were under siege from an invading force, though given it was from the memories of an unknown entity associated with Master Hermetis and the others, there might be some inconsistencies with his account."
A war from an invading force? Oh, he must be referring to the Eight-Guild Invasion, since I can't think of anything else that really reaches the scale of what someone would consider a "war". Actually, can it even be considered a war if it only lasted about a day?
Apparently, his friends were reaching the same conclusion he had, as Punitto began to simmer from old rage.
Wish III, as per protocol, informed the two strategists of what he'd done to Nfirea during his and Tabula's time with the human alchemist. To say that he'd gone ballistic would be an understatement.
But by that point, the damage was already done, and to try and alter Nfirea's memories of his time with Wish III gave too many risks with his fragile mental state. It was decided it would be best to just handle it as another surprise obstacle in their goal of anonymity.
Momonga briefly wondered how long it would take before the secret of his guild would come out to the world at large. It seemed like more and more data breaches were happening by the day, exasperated by the actions of his friends.
When that day came, he imagined he would get to relax somewhat, not having to employ so many smoke and mirror methods to hide his existence. Some groups, like Carne Village, might not care at all, and other groups like the Dryad-Born showed they simply didn't care.
In the case of the Dryad-Born, they had the late Grover Sprigganson to thank for Ainz Ooal Gown's acceptance by the unusual group. Blue Planet nurtured those feelings of awe and friendship with his constant presence among them, meaning it was likely that once the others of his guild introduced themselves as they truly were, there would be less lashback.
"Once upon a time, there was a conflict we were forced to endure," Ancient One answered, "We acted only in self-defense, as we were largely hunted and persecuted from rival groups. It is part of the reason we are here, actually."
"That makes sense, given your groups' sudden appearance in these lands. I apologize if our questions brought up bad memories, but there is much we do not know about you, so whatever information you provide us gives a clearer insight into the type of people you are."
Momonga was taken aback by the obvious lie. They had no idea the real reason why they were in the New World, so to say they were here to escape others seemed a strange way to protect their identities.
When he glanced at Punitto Moe and Bellriver for guidance, the latter shrugged and the former made a gesture that indicated he just "roll with it".
"Don't worry about it," Punitto played along, "We do what's best for all of us, even if we don't necessarily have plans to. Sometimes, all it takes is a single individual to set things into motion."
"Yeah, and with what we've experienced so far, I would say this has played out all very well. You could even say I was dying to get here, as it was a far better alternative than what I was currently doing," Bellriver said.
Okay, how they're just being cheeky with this! Though, once you reach a certain level of intelligence, word games probably become second nature. Even still, this seems a bit on the nose.
It didn't help that while they said this, they looked at him with knowing expressions. He chuckled, deciding to take advantage of their position.
"Of course, but none of this would be possible without all of you. I just sounded the call, and the rest of you came running. Not that I care either way, as it's nice to have you all home again."
The others began to talk amongst themselves again, moving on from their current conversation and sharing details about village economics and operations under the careful hand of Aeliana, who seemed in her element when talking to others like the three intellectuals of Nazarick.
While that was going on, he began to feel a persistent nudge against the outer layer of his consciousness, a familiar feeling from before. Having recognized it for what it was, he allowed it to slip deeper into his awareness, solidifying into another consciousness.
MOMONGA.
"I was beginning to wonder when you might be trying to contact me again," he thought, utilizing the same telepathic mechanics of the [Message] spell to converse.
YOU ARE NO LONGER PRESENT IN THE TOMB. WHERE HAVE YOU GONE?
"I thought you and I shared a 'connection' or however you phrased it. Shouldn't you be able to use that to figure it out?"
INDEED, I COULD, BUT AS PER YOUR WISHES, I SEVERED MYSELF FROM YOUR MIND UNTIL YOU DESIRED ME BACK IN. UNTIL I REESTABLISH THE CONNECTION FULLY AND I AM IN RANGE, I AM BLIND TO YOUR WHEREABOUTS.
"I am in Carne Village at the moment, checking up on the villagers. Was there something you needed? I know we haven't been able to fulfill the Caloric Stone request yet, as it's still under review, and I can't help you with the other request since even you don't know what you want."
It was good he figured out he didn't need to speak aloud to get his meaning across to the guild item, as he probably would've looked insane talking to thin air in front of those who didn't know any better.
A feeling of…sheepishness passed over the connection from the staff. He could sense a new desire bubbling up from the item.
FETCH ME. I WISH TO EXPERIENCE THE OUTSIDE WORLD AGAIN, FOR THE CHERRY BLOSSOM SANCTUARY GROWS LONELY WITHOUT AUREOLE OMEGA FOR COMPANY.
"Aureole is gone? Where did she go by herself?"
TO MY KNOWLEDGE, SHE WAS REQUESTED FOR A MEETING WITH HER CREATOR, COUP DE GRACE. WITH THE GENERAL SECURITY OF THE TOMB, I WAS LEFT HERE AS IT WAS DEEMED THERE WAS LITTLE TO NO RISK.
Momonga weighed his options, trying to decide whether he should acquiesce to the guild item's request. Punitto Moe may have lifted the ban that was placed on him from using the item, but he still hadn't used it out of fear for what would be deemed acceptable or not.
There was possibly no harm in bringing the staff to a non-hostile space, like the village. Here, he could parade the staff of Ainz Ooal Gown around as he wished, as no one around would be able to harm him or any of the others.
"Very well, I shall be by shortly." He said. A degree of satisfaction leaked over the connection, and then the staff went silent.
Making sure he wasn't needed in the current conversation between the Sunlight Scripture and his guildmates, he opened a [Gate] right behind him, back stepping through to stand at the entrance of the tomb. With his guild ring, he teleported the rest of the way to the Cherry Blossom Sanctuary.
At the heart of the massive cherry blossom tree was the staff itself, floating and spinning in place under its own power. He looked around, seeing only the swirling portals that led to the other floors. No-one else was there with him.
Momonga reached for the staff, a sense of completion filling him when the golden handle settled into his hand. He felt like an old friend was joining him for a walk.
"Shall we then?" He asked aloud, not needing to adhere to any public image.
I WOULD BE DELIGHTED TO. I AM EAGER TO SEE HOW THE PEOPLE OF CARNE FARE SINCE OUR LAST VISIT, AND TO MEET THE SUNLIGHT SCRIPTURE PROPERLY.
With the affirmation he needed, his guild ring lit up again, teleporting them to the surface where he would utilize a [Gate] to take them back the rest of the way. Today would prove an interesting day indeed.
Fortress of the Weeping King
Tuare stood next to the Weeping King, the both of them admiring the massive door that led into the Vault of Treasures. When she shifted her feet, she could feel the leftover blood soaking into her boots from the bandits who formerly assaulted her home.
The feeling of it made a shiver of revulsion run up and down her spine. She took care not to look at her surroundings, focusing only on the vault.
Many of the survivors were left in the main interim of the fortress, where they could rest in their quarters and recuperate from the stress of the day. She had a feeling some of them would not come out of their rooms at all.
Oh well, that just meant more bodies to replenish their numbers.
"A magnificent piece of work, is it not?" The Weeping King asked, gesturing to the vault.
"Indeed it is, my lord. You have created a legacy to be proud of, especially amongst all of your followers," Tuare replied.
"This vault was one of the very first projects I ever constructed, when I descended upon this world. I dug into the earth with the help of my minions, carving solid rock to make the very fortress we stand in. Centuries of history exist here, and a lifetime of conquests and memories."
When the undead king said this, he raised one of his skeletal hands, arcs of shadow blasting out and absorbing into the vault door. Notches of blood-red light lit up, outlining lettering that looked similar to runes but at the same time not.
It was a language she did not recognize, ominous and foreboding in the light that revealed it. It was the tongue of her god, from whatever realm he hailed from in the past.
A thick line split the door down the middle vertically, and with a heaving groan, the dense, metal doors swung in on themselves. On the other side was a surprisingly well-lit room. Rather than torches or any sort of traditional light source, she saw strange, round objects made of glass with balls of light glowing within.
The Weeping King dissolved into shadow, slinking across the ground and rematerializing beyond the door's threshold. He gestured for Tuare to cross as well, which she complied with a raised heartbeat and hitch in her breath.
She had never been inside the Vault of Treasures, and assumed she would never get the chance to because of her relative "newness" to the Knights of the Weeping King. Ordinarily, only senior members or Destrus Desmodus himself would be allowed into this sacred place.
It was a circular room, spreading out around a hundred feet in all directions, and having a domed roof that was around a hundred feet tall. The exact measurements were taught to her by Destrus, who informed her that they were taught to him by the previous leader of the Knights, and so on and so forth from the Weeping King himself.
All around starting from the door were alcoves carved into the walls, filled with a variety of treasure boxes, mannequins laden with exquisite equipment, pedestals of rare and valuable gems and jewelry, and weapon racks loaded with all manner of weapons.
There was an even space between each of the alcoves, both to the sides and right above each one, another alcove containing more treasures. At the center of the room was a raised dais, like where a throne would sit, and on it was a column of gold and white material that reached to about her chest height.
On the ground floor, however, was a sight that both exhilarated and stopped her heart all at once. They stood in regular intervals between each of the alcoves, standing on raised sections of the floor.
"Death Knights," she murmured, stepping away from the door to stand before one of them. The heavy entrance closed behind her, effectively sealing the pair of them in there.
They were cold and inert, their eye sockets devoid of the flame that usually resided in them. A sword was slotted into a space right beneath their feet, and a tower shield strapped to their backs.
Each of them looked different from the death knights she saw in her manuscripts. They lacked the jutting horns like a bull's on their heads, a line of spikes running down the back of their necks and smaller horns curving downwards along the shape of the helmet instead.
More armor covered the "vitals" of their anatomy, making them significantly bulkier in comparison. Like their neck, there were spikes that lined portions of their armor like their shoulders, knees, and elbows.
The only part of their original body that was still "exposed" was their faces, hideous, gaping wounds for mouths with razor-sharp teeth. Necrotic flesh clung to their lifeless heads, strings of muscle and tendons where the cheeks once were.
Carved into their chest plates were the motif of the Weeping King: a flaming skull, his horns ablaze with the iron crown between them and the symbol of a shield right behind it.
"They are the guardians of this place," the Weeping King proudly proclaimed, "Members of my original cohort, when I came to this world and made my mark here. Just as they served me, so shall they serve you."
At those words, the eyes of the death knights ignited, the same red glow that appeared in the door lighting in the seams of their armor. They roared, the sound echoing through the vast chamber while they fully awakened.
They yanked their weapons from the slots in the ground, revealing rippled swords that dripped with poison. Their thunderous steps shook the ground as they walked from their places to stand in a straight line before the Weeping King.
Their tower shields, now that they were no longer attached to their back, looked more like the shell of a ginormous crab, the same type of spines present on their armor lining the edges of the shield.
Each one kneeled before him, snarling and grumbling to themselves. The Weeping King spread his arms in a welcoming gesture.
"Until you can resupply yourselves with the manpower needed, the thirteen you see here will aid you in the battles to come. We have much vengeance to reap upon our foes."
"I-They're different from others, my lord. They feel more ancient, more powerful than anything I've ever felt except you," Tuare said, taking baby steps in her fear. An irrational portion of her mind warned her that those death knights would turn around and rip her to shreds at any moment.
"You have a keen eye, Tuareninya. These are, in-fact, not ordinary death knights, but something more. In my earlier days, when I first began to expand into this mountain, I discovered that if given enough time, the creatures born here can…evolve, become better."
True to his word, and unlike most undead, she could feel the animalistic pride and intelligence of these specimens. They did not rise, but they became more excited in their movements.
"Even I was subject to this change, to break the limits of this form and ascend to greater heights! A final quest, a final challenge from my old home, to become a true denizen of this realm! These lords of death took that journey with me, and ascended to the height of their own power!"
The Weeping King's passions rose, his voice deepening and booming across the Vault. "I am a god of this world! For two centuries, I have existed here, raising my Knights to their true potential! I believed, after a certain point, that you all no longer needed me, so I left you to your own devices."
His voice lowered, becoming almost somber and regretful. "How wrong I was. It is pitiful to see the wolves I thought I raised become mewling wretches."
"We shall rise again, my lord!" She said, placing a hand over her heart. "We will rebuild our numbers! We will raise statues and effigies in your honor, in the image you commanded! All will know and fear the Knights of His Majesty as they did, in the olden days!"
"And I believe you, young one. Your performance inspired the faintest of hopes that you all are capable of redeeming yourselves. So shall you spill blood in my glory, and offer up the bones of our enemies, in my name."
The column at the center of the dais where the Weeping King stood began to glow, and He tapped the surface of it a few times. The room rumbled as old stone shifted, loosening some dust high up in the ceiling.
Tuare looked around, gasping in fright and shock as the walls moved, elevating upwards to reveal more alcoves hidden in the floor. The previous alcoves that were at the eight of the ceiling slid into the wall, disappearing into it to be replaced by the row directly under it.
It reminded her of a belt system, where a series of wheels would turn to propel a flexible surface to propel items along its length, always spinning on itself to move the items without the belt having to move forward itself.
"A complex mechanism manages this Vault, ensuring that with a modest space such as this, I can store more than meets the eye. Any treasures you may need, once you request permission for them, will be granted."
He stepped off the dais, parting the line of death lords, who grouped up behind Him. Their hungry stares made Tuare feel very much like a rabbit in sight of a ravenous wolf, a feeling she stomped down as ferociously as she could.
"Your first mission will be to investigate the outpost that allows passage up to our fortress. Something must have happened to allow the Death Spreading Brigade to pass through," The Weeping King said, walking right up to her.
She automatically knelt, a sign of respect to His status, though she immediately stood when He gestured for her to do so.
Her shoulder was nearly swallowed up by the clawed gauntlet he wore, a fatherly gesture, the very same way that Lord Destrus did to her back then. Meekness spread through her, and her cheeks lit up somewhat.
"Once you have determined the source of their negligence, I shall guide you to one of your first targets. A village, not far from the road that leads up to the outpost, one that I am sure you'll be intimately familiar with.
Confusion replaced her meekness, taking her a moment to grasp what He meant. As soon as she did, however, an uncharacteristic scowl overcame her soft features. An aspect of the Warrior's spirit that awakened within her as a product of her time with the Knights.
"You would allow me to return just so I can get my revenge? I doubt any of them would tell me where the noble has gone. He may have enjoyed staying and watching my fellow slaves get broken, but he never bothered to remain afterwards," she practically spat.
The Weeping King made a noise of amusement. "The noble who wronged you will be brought to justice, in time. No, what I would have you do is free your brothers and sisters in bondage, and slaughter the overseers who threatened the whip upon you."
He began to gently lead her to the alcoves on the wall, right before a weapon rack that held only a singular blade. She gasped upon seeing the weapon, excitedly reaching for it but then restraining herself, looking back to her god for guidance.
"Every great lord and lady of the Knights requires their own weapon. I would not have you charging into battle with such a pathetic short-sword. Once you have taken your blade, you shall be given your armor."
"Your generosity knows no bounds, my lord," she said with gratitude, looking back at the prized weapon before her.
It was a double edged sword, made of a golden metal that shimmered with a shine ordinary refined adamantine weapons could not replicate. The weapon was about four feet long, with a glowing purple edge about the blade.
The cross guard was circular, leaving a hole in the middle where a Diamond-shaped purple gem floated freely in the empty space. A steady pulse rippled with wisps of mana all throughout the gem.
From the cross guard, the hilt was about a hand-and-a-half in length, allowing her to either one hand or two hand it if she so needed. That portion was wrapped in a black, exotic leather made of a scaled animal, as she could still see the impressions where the scales were taken off to not cut the hand when wielding it.
At the bottom of the hilt looked to be pieces of metal shaped in the grabbing hands of a taloned beast, holding a marble-sized gem fashioned in the likeness of a dragon's eye. The detail was immaculate, unable to be achieved by mortal hands.
"It is foolish to not arm my followers properly before they head to battle," The Weeping King said, "Once you have, whether you win or lose afterwards is entirely on you. This particular weapon is named Heatstriker, for its remarkable ability to slice through weaker weapons and armor."
To prove His point, a small portal the same color as His shadows opened up to His side, just large enough for His right hand to fight through. He pulled out one of the sacred objects of His order: a baseball.
"Pick up the weapon, and step back," He commanded, taking the time to step back from her as well. She did as she was told, wrapping both hands around the hilt and hefting it up.
Whatever magic was imbued into the blade was extensive, for the moment her grip touched it it became as light as a feather, perfectly balanced to her and her alone, so long as she held it.
Tuare marveled at such a fine piece of equipment, and then walked a pace or two to reach the distance her lord desired.
Once He was satisfied she was far away, He gently tossed the baseball in an arch. "Strike."
Her eyes tracked the moving ball with a practice she still had not mastered but was adept enough in. She calculated when the ball would be in her reach, and sliced at the approaching object without needing to think about it.
The purple gems embedded in the blade hummed, and the glowing edge burned brighter with smoke floating from it. When her sword made contact with the ball, it sliced it clean in half with a hiss.
Both halves fell to the floor behind her, spilling their contents out as they flopped uselessly. The edge darkened just enough to let her know the effect shut off, but it's lightness and perfect balance remained.
In an instant, the familiar shadow of her god was enveloping her. "Lady Tuareninya Veyron, of the new Knights of the Weeping King. It is an excellent title for a noblewoman, would you not agree?"
"So long as you will it, I shall bring honor to your name and our house. I will not fail you," She declared, kneeling again in his presence, but now with the sword in hand.
"Oh child of mine, you have no idea of the things on the horizon awaiting us. A new age is dawning, and I would have you leading a new generation of my knights right into it. So long as our power is uncontested, so long as my designs are carried out, so long as my allies hold up their end of the bargain, then we shall prevail, so says I."