Chapter 11: Okay being in charge of a line is getting kinda boring now (can we go home yet?)

Lower Wind Month, 14th Day, 600 AGG

Isoleiryx Merrevictis Grafalind Rhell, or more widely known as Brightness Dragon Lord, watched the pool of mutagenic dragon's blood before him with a keen but aloof eye.

The surface bubbled and frothed as a creature's deformed arm broke through and pulled itself out of the vat.

"Fa…ther…" Isoleiryx calmly and clinically documented the results in his head. The mutated demihuman crawled out, dripping blood all over the floor. The dragon lord walked over to it, inspecting every aspect of the skinless abomination.

'B-DG-23-1 is a failure too then,' he stabbed a trinket that had all the appearance of a cheap mass-produced item into the arm of the failed experiment. 'Perhaps I should dilute the concentration? It seems combining procedure-B with an essence-enhanced dragonblood submersion produces a sort of permanent charm effect as well. I doubt it'll be as potent on stronger beings though.'

Isoleiryx sighed as he channeled the slightest amount of essence into the trinket, forcing the failure into a sort of suspended animation. "Put it in storage with the rest of its type," he ordered one of the golems on standby. He could reprocess its components later when he had the time. "And replace the blood pool from the reserves kept in stasis."

The automaton silently obeyed, carrying the failure over its shoulder and descended into the lower depths of his primary mountain's laboratory.

"Artificially accelerating the binding enchantments with my blood as a vector might be a dead end. Procedure-D isn't complete yet either…" he muttered to himself while picking up two incomplete syringes, one with runic markings and the other glowing with an ethereal light. "I'll need to find a Fourth-Tier cleric that worships a fertility god…"

A shame that all the sects he knew of were on bad terms with him. Coercing them wasn't an option since there was little preventing them from sabotaging their enchantments. Perhaps he should spend another century or so and set up a similar religion himself? He found the very thought of it exhausting. For the moment, it seemed he'd have to rely on runecraft.

Isoleiryx walked over to a modified Orb of Seeking and activated it. He had made it on a whim, but it proved a useful tool for tracking iterations created through procedure-A as well as their descendents. The dragon lord willed the magic item to focus on a treasure hunter that was… the eighth generation of iteration A-DAv-5?

Draconic essence swirled within the orb, before revealing a humanoid man with feathery hawk-like wings in the midst of clearing out undead in some ruin. He pushed a little more essence in, allowing him to zoom in and out, though in limited amounts. The dragon lord briefly paused when he saw the floating fortress looming in the sky.

"Hmph. So Vaision is still wasting his time in that disgusting city…" Isoleiryx scowled. He could not understand why Platinum Dragon Lord would do something as foolish as keeping all of those items in a single location. The only notable deterrent aside from Vaision himself were the thirty pathetic guards that were nothing without their regalia, and just barely above nothing with it.

Eryuentiu—what a vain and arrogant name—was a shell of what it once was under the rule of the detestable Greed Kings. What even Isoleiryx grudgingly admitted was once a mighty city filled with all sorts of incredible knowledge was now a hotspot for hedonists and opportunistic treasure hunters.

'Yet he still decides to keep watch over it. What do you see that I do not, Vaision?' anger clouded his thoughts before he cleared it away with a sigh. 'Unimportant. I have seen all that I've needed to here.'

He directed the orb's vision towards a number of other iterations, absentmindedly noting that some of them had died, before shutting it down with a huff. As always, there were none of the developments he was hoping for. After so many failures, he wasn't really sure what he was expecting at this point.

His thoughts were interrupted by the magical wards installed at the base of the mountain notifying him of an interloper.

'Hm? A procedure-A specimen…' one quick application of 『World Teleportation』later, and he was standing in a forest within the vicinity of his primary mountain. He undid his elven form—he didn't remember when he decided to start using that particular appearance—and flew into the sky as he searched for the petitioner.

A few kilometers away from his location, Isoleiryx spotted a groveling Direwolf Orthrous kneeling in a clearing near the bottom of the mountain.

With a thunderous thud, the winds blew back the nearby canopy as he landed in the clearing before the demihuman and rumbled. "Rajan Vamsa. For what reason have you come?"

"O-Oooooh! Lord Isholranth! It is an honor—" Isoleiryx resisted the urge to blast the annoyance to ashes with his dragonbreath.

"Get to the point."

"Y-Y-Yes, my Lord!" the elderly Orthrous touched his forehead to the ground. "As you must already know, I passed down my position to a young Veejanu."

'Who?' the surname didn't sound familiar at all. Isoleiryx nodded his head, impatiently bidding the demihuman to continue.

"Because of a recent military failure, I fear the ruling members of our nation will pin the blame on him and our clansmen. Oh, my Lord! Remember the deeds I have done for you! I beg you to rescue our clan from the brink of annihilation!"

"I see," Isoleiryx suddenly realized something. "You have not told anyone where you were going, correct?"

"Forgive me, my Lord, but I had told my fellow elders that I would be going on a pilgrimage to speak with you."

'They might rationalize it as him perishing on the way here,' Isoleiryx mused. The center of the continent was filled with all sorts of perilous obstacles after all, and he had ensured that the area around his mountain scrambled communication spells.

"I will consider your request," he raised a claw towards the trembling Orthrous. "In return, you will aid me with an experiment."

"Y-Yes! It is an honor, my Lord!" the demihuman laid a palm upon his claw, and a moment later, they were in the depths of his laboratory. "In-Incredible! So this is the domain of the divine!"

"Over here," Isoleiryx warped his shape into one similar to the specimen's and grabbed an otherwise unassuming bowl with complicated patterns etched upon it off a table. The specimen eagerly walked over as the dragon lord pulled out a small adamantite knife.

Without any ceremony, he used the knife to make a small incision in the specimen's arm, catching the rivulets of blood with the bowl.

The etchings upon the item glowed, and a portion of the specimen's essence flowed into Isoleiryx's mind as information.

'A-DG-67-4. I'm somewhat impressed that bloodline still exists. Races suited for physical vocations shouldn't make it a habit to practice druidic traditions.'

"Thank you," and Brightness Dragon Lord was truly grateful in the same way one would thank a tool for fulfilling its purpose. "I believe I will indeed fulfill your request."

"Lord Isholranth!" the specimen was kneeling down again in joyful worship. "Your mercy is boundless—Aiiiiii!"

Too fast for ordinary beings to perceive, he grabbed the specimen and submerged them into the blood pool, gently holding them down as they thrashed in terror and pain.

"Apologies," and indeed, he did feel a little bad. Using a procedure-A iteration likely wouldn't produce the results he wanted, but he couldn't help but admit he was a tad curious. It was just too much of a bother to contact his direct descendants nowadays, so this was quite the serendipitous occasion. "But you may rest easy; your life will be repurposed for the sake of the World."

He released his hold once the specimen stopped struggling, standing back as he patiently waited for the process to finish.

A half-hour or so later, another twisted flesh abomination crawled out of the pool. This one, however, looked notably stronger.

'I suppose 'Players' would say it's around level forty?' Isoleiryx felt his mood rise by a miniscule amount. It was stronger than iterations from the other procedures, but it still wasn't what he was looking for. 'Filthy beings they are, but their methods of classification are… useful.'

"Father—" the failure rasped before falling limp as Isoleiryx casually stabbed it with another one of the suspended animation needles. He then carefully cut out a flesh sample from its arm and put it into a spare stasis container.

"Take it away," a golem silently walked over and carried it away along with the flesh container. "Isholranth, hm… Isn't that the setting I used for that beastman country?"

It was a test site he had co-founded with another like-minded individual until their differences in methodology eventually caused them to split. Curiosity aroused again, he picked up the Orb of Seeking.

'Hoh. That Bafolk bloodline is still alive… but why are so many of them in this human city?'

Isoleiryx vaguely remembered setting up a human nation in that region. The memory of a black-haired child floated through his mind.

"II-25 A-H-4-3," his mumbling echoed in the vast laboratory. "The fluke."

A familiar pang of disappointment wracked his heart. When that particular iteration was born, he had been overwhelmed with jubilation upon discovering she had the aptitude for Wild Magic. At the moment, he had thought all of his efforts were finally paying off.

Unfortunately, it was merely an accident of astronomical odds. The chances of being born with a pre-Aftershock age draconic bloodline along with a Talent granting affinity with essence was something that ought to have consumed a person's luck for the rest of their lifetime.

Isoleiryx didn't need lucky accidents. He needed reproducible results.

In the end, he replaced the iteration's progenitors with detailed flesh puppets designed to slowly expire in a way that was meant to imitate an incurable disease. The originals he took away for further experimentation, hoping to discover some nuance that could help with future trials.

Of course, the only useful thing A-H-4-2 ever created was a damn fluke—even after all his additional tests—so he ended up euthanizing them out of frustration. At least it made the iteration more receptive to his influence when they latched onto him as an authority figure, not that its disposition really mattered to him.

Isoleiryx didn't need failures. He needed a success that made centuries of hardship worthwhile.

After he had failed—him, failing—he resigned himself to teaching the lucky iteration the basics of Wild Magic only to find out that their Talent didn't make them better at utilizing essence. At best, they were only as proficient as the average pre-Aftershock age dragon.

Isoleiryx didn't need average. He needed something which surpassed the definition of talent.

It was only with something incredible that he could protect the World from the sickeningdisgustingrevolting FILTH of the Dragon Emperor.

The dragon lord took a deep breath and calmed himself. Since the orb was already on, he might as well check on that specific iteration.

'An adult by human standards already,' he cooly observed a woman with long black hair and teal-green eyes smiling and talking to someone by her side. 'Those angels… Likely a response from the Slane Theocracy to demihuman neighbors.'

The dragon lord zoomed out, stumbling back in shock—and to his shame, terror.

A blob of pure blackness obscured whoever was next to the iteration. He had purposely designed the orb to bypass all forms of tier magic anti-divination, so that implied two possibilities.

One: the being was capable of using Wild Magic, and to a degree where it could spoof his divination formulas.

Two: the being bore one of the Dragon Emperor's detestable treasures.

Isoleiryx changed back into his true form and roared. The cavern shook with his hatred all while his golems watched detachedly.

The dragon lord shrunk back down. It would do no good to destroy his lab equipment due to a lack of self control.

'The other true dragons are mostly accounted for and wouldn't concern themselves with petty squabbles. So A-H-4-3 has either discovered one of these 'World Items' and gave it to someone she trusts, or…' he analyzed the possibilities of the scene before him. 'But given this ridiculous number of angels, many of them even I have not seen the likes of, it's far more probable that this is an Aftershock.'

"Player," he snarled, his narrowed gaze boring a hole into the Orb of Seeking. "Your days are numbered."

No, Isoleiryx shook his head. This wasn't a fight he could rush into without extensive preparations. The dragon lord grimaced as images of the terrible but mighty Greed Kings flashed through his mind.

Fortunately, he had the forethought to develop certain spells in preparation for another Aftershock. Isoleiryx breathed out a pale green mist that refused to dissipate until he willed it away.

"Still incomplete, but it's close," he said as he formed a twisted crystal that looked wrong out of ambient essence. It was a transmuted, regenerative substance that even he could not destroy. "This one though… I'll need suitable test subjects."

'Perhaps I should try to subtly influence A-H-4-3 to put the Player into an unfavorable position,' Isoleiryx shook his head, instantly rejecting the idea. 'No. I need to reveal as little of myself as possible, and any sort of contact will likely expose my existence.'

The dragon lord stared contemplatively at the orb and the repulsive sight of his descendant laughing happily while so close to a Player.

'I need information first,' Isoleiryx thought and zoomed in on A-H-4-3. From what he saw, the Player and the iteration seemed to be close. He may not be able to target the filth with the Orb of Seeking, but if he viewed his 'great-granddaughter' to indirectly view the Player…

'It seems you still have a use after all.'

A shiver ran down Draudillon's spine.

"You good?" Yuriko worriedly looked at her.

"Yes," Draudillon rubbed her arms, feeling goosebumps rise over her skin. "I just felt like someone was… watching me."

"Erm, we're walking down a public street right now," Yuriko looked at her with confusion. "I guess it would make sense if at least a few people were looking at us?"

"No, it feels—I don't know how to say it. Different," as if someone was examining her from far away. She shivered again.

Yuriko gave her a quick hug before pulling away with a blush. "D-Don't worry! I'll beat up any creep who wants to mess with you!"

"Ah, um," Draudillon cleared her throat, the red on her face mirroring Yuriko's. "Thank you."

The two fell into an awkward yet strangely comfortable silence until they reached the same fountain Yuriko had been working for the past few days.

"I was thinking about the compensation thingy you mentioned," the angel suddenly spoke up. Draudillon nodded, encouraging her to continue. "I think I'm going to charge them food!"

"That's…" the dragon queen was at a loss for words. "Very like you."

"Right?!" Yuriko laughed and walked ahead with a wave. "I'll see you soon!"

'It's nice to see that she's cheered up again,' Draudillon's gaze softened as she watched the angel and her temporary assistants open up the line again. She waved back and yelled, unconcerned with all the onlookers. "Have a good day!"

"You too!" Yuriko shouted back with an uncontained smile that stretched from ear to ear. Everyone nearby, from the soldiers and clerics to the civilians, half-grinned in amusement. Maybe the diviners too, but their uniform made it hard to tell.

"Okay, let's go," She muttered to the pair of Gatekeepers that accompanied her. Mostly unconcerned with onlookers, she corrected in her head even while her face flushed with heat. "Don't want to bother them."

'I've done all I can here for now,' she crossed her arms and fell deep into thought. 'I can't remember the last time I've had a free day.'

Meeting with more people in charge of various aspects of the Mohajar would just be redundant at this point.

'I suppose I could try to find a use for those Bafolk,' Draudillon deliberated. 'Yuriko's summons outspeed them to the extent where it should be safe for the soldiers of the city to spar with them.'

She frowned. It was an interesting idea, but trusting beastmen to train her soldiers rubbed all her sensibilities in the wrong way.

They were strong though. Stronger than nearly all the soldiers in the city. There was absolutely no denying that.

And having strong people willing to make the time to train soldiers without outstanding talent was valuable. Well, in this case she could just force them to make the time.

Draudillon chewed her lower lip. 'It's worth a shot. May as well try now and see how things develop from there.'

"Take me to where Clan Vadh is being held," one of the Gatekeepers gently picked her up and took to the air, its fellow following closely behind.

Draudillon hummed in approval as the summoned angel flew beyond the walls and outside of the city proper. It seemed Yuriko had taken initiative and found another location to imprison the Bafolk. She had probably noticed the tensions that heated up whenever residents saw the beastmen.

The Gatekeeper carefully deposited her in the middle of an abandoned field, a large barn standing by its lonesome among a pile of chaff and surrounded by countless angels silently floating in midair.

'Yuriko really put them in a barn…' she pursed her lips as she walked up to the entrance. Putting Bafolk in a barn just felt a bit too on the nose. Knowing the angel, she probably didn't even do it on purpose. "Come out."

Footsteps approached the open doorway, and she was confronted with the sight of Katavaar divested of all his combat gear, wearing nothing more than a pair of roughly woven trousers. "Rajan. You have called?"

"Rejoice," Draudillon deadpanned. "You'll have something to do today. Tell the rest of your clansmen to get equipped and prepare to leave for the city's barracks."

"They are your clansmen now too, Rajan."

Draudillon pointedly ignored him. "We'll see if Clan Vadh can back up their boasts. I'll have you all spar and train the soldiers stationed here. Any misbehavior and, well…"

She trailed off, leaving the rest of the threat unsaid.

"Very well," Katavaar bowed before her and went back inside the barn. "I will inform my fellow Kshatra's."

Sounds of armor being put on and grumbling dominated the next several minutes while Draudillon walked around the field to pass time.

'Minimal damage to property,' she grimly noted. 'It's counterproductive to destroy what you're planning on taking over, is probably what the beastmen thought.'

In the end, the beastmen were simply unlucky. Draudillon was well aware that her chance meeting with Yuriko was unlikely to say the least.

Her idle thoughts were abruptly cut off as the Bafolk warriors strode out the cube under the watchful gaze of all the summons.

"We're all going to the barracks," Draudillon announced to all the angels. "Try not to drop any of the beastmen."

"Hilarious," she heard one of the Bafolk mutter behind her back.

Huh. Draudillon smiled. It was pretty funny, in a morbid sort of way.

'It's raining Bafolk and Angels…'

"Don't turn the sword until the edge goes through the target," Katavaar scowled. "And your joints are too tense, human."

"Yeah," Freire drawled as he continued practicing a downwards-diagonal cut that circled back into a ready position. "Little hard to relax around the guy who almost killed me and my buddy."

"Weaklings are incapable of moving past their losses," Katavaar sneered in derision. "I cannot say I am surprised."

To Freire's amusement, the Bafolk stiffened and shut his yap the moment Queen Oriculus shot a cold glare at him. "She's got you whipped, huh?"

"Silence!" his mentor, for lack of better words, snapped at him. "You would not understand the ways of our people."

"I kind of don't want to understand what it feels like to eat babies," Freire dryly responded with no small amount of malice, sighing as his practice sword was knocked out of his hand for the umpteenth time. "Why are we practicing with swords anyways?"

"Clan Vadh has always prided itself on its swordplay," the Bafolk puffed its chest. "You should be honored to learn from our elites, human."

"Yeah, yeah. But a good number of us," Freire waved around the training field where the beastmen clan were teaching a group of people roughly half the size of a company. "Don't really use swords. Wouldn't it be better for us to focus on what we're already familiar with?"

"A wise observation," Katavaar nodded in approval. "Unfortunately, you humans are so underdeveloped that your life-path will not deviate from this little. At your current strengths, training with your betters can only benefit you."

'Life-path… so it probably literally means the path a person takes in their life,' Freire absentmindedly thought as he deflected a thrust aimed for his shoulder. 'It sounds strangely similar to what the Theocracy folks talk about sometimes.'

"Focus!" the beastman smacked him over the head with the flat of the sword. "The battlefield will not be so kind to you."

"Tell me about it," Freire snorted. "What's this whole life-path thing anyways?"

"The sum total of what you have dedicated your life to," Katavaar disengaged around his attempt at a parry and counterattacked, inflicting a stinging pain on his thigh. "One who dedicates themselves to the ways of the arcane will grow in their eldritch might. Another who is dedicated to the arts of the warrior will similarly grow in strength.

"Of course," the Bafolk rapidly landed a series of precise strikes upon Freire's chest, shoulder, and forearm. "It is much more complicated than that, but that is not something Clan Vadh bothers themselves with."

"Because you all are a bunch of dumbasses," Freire could've sworn the Queen laughed at that, but when he snapped his head around to look, she was wearing the same calm expression as always. "Oof!"

While his attention was diverted, Katavaar roundhouse kicked him in the stomach, launching him a few meters away. The beastman had held back his strength, but it still hurt like hell. "Fucking sore—ouch—loser…"

"Angering your opponent is no use when you yourself are distracted," Katavaar waited for him to get up. "Get up."

"Fine, fine—oh shit, is that Romas?" Freire ran towards his friend, completely forgetting about the infuriated Bafolk he just ditched. "Hey! Romas! You good?"

Romas gave him a tired and uneasy smile. "Yeah, I'm doin' alright, man. Just had to rest up for a bit, yanno?"

"Yeah, yeah. I get that," Freire patted his friend's shoulder. "It's just that… where were you for the past few days?"

Before Romas could answer, a regal voice called for him.

"Cousin," holy shit, was Queen Oriculus walking towards them? She didn't look anything at all like the little girl most people described her as.

The woman standing in front of them was definitely not a kid by any human metric in existence. Freire gulped and carefully kept his eyes on the queen's face.

Wait, did she say cousin?

"Your Majesty," Romas lowered his head respectfully. "Ya called?"

"Your father sends his regards," sharp teal-green eyes bore into Romas's form. "I see you finally had your arm healed."

"Ah, yeah," Romas sheepishly scratched the top of his head. "I had one of the angels check me out last night, yanno?"

"Indeed," Queen Oriculus paused for a moment, eyebrows scrunched together as she seemed to consider something. "Your father also bid you return home."

"No," Freire had only seen Romas this scared once before, and that was during the recent attack. "I, I'm gonna stay here."

The queen nodded and gave a comforting smile. "I will relay that to him then. And you."

She turned her head toward Freire. He could feel a drop of sweat roll down the side of his face as the queen looked into his eyes. "I presume you're young Carthalo's friend?"

"Sort of," he tried to shrug as nonchalantly as possible. "Hard not to be after everything that happened, Your Majesty."

"True," she tilted her head and looked towards the center of the city with a wistful expression. "I will likely have to leave today. Take care of Romas, if it's not too much trouble."

"Of course, Your Majesty," he bowed his head. "I'll try to keep the idiot out of trouble."

"That makes two of us then," Queen Oriculus wryly smiled with a strange sort of understanding before a look of vulnerable sadness crossed her face. "And for what it's worth, I… I'm sorry for everything that's happened."

"No, it's fine," Freire resisted the urge to awkwardly shuffle his feet. "It wasn't your fault. We all know you've been doing the best you can, Your Majesty. Just, just like everyone else, I guess."

"Is that so?" she muttered to herself. "Thank you. Your words gladden me."

The queen gestured to one of the lion-headed angels that had been following her with a 'come-hither' motion and allowed it to carry her in its arms. "I need to head off to check on matters elsewhere. If Clan Vadh causes any problems, inform one of the summoned angels, and they will deal with it."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Freire nodded his head. "Safe travels."

"Let's go," and then the angel along with another identical to it took to the air.

"She's going to go eat with her bonded mate," Katavaar casually spoke up from behind him, watching the queen and her angelic attendants disappear into the belly of the city. "Our new Rajan."

"Oh, that's cool—did you say mate?!"

"Do not make me repeat myself, human!" Katavaar barked out. "Have you not seen that monstrous woman constantly in the presence of your ruler?"

"The city's savior? The Lady of Wings?"

"Hah? What kind of idiotic name is that?" Katavaar huffed in exasperation. "But yes, her."

"Uh, doesn't it kind of make sense that Queen Oriculus would go spend time with her anyways?" Freire still held doubts about the Bafolk's assertion. "Would be sort of rude if she didn't pay a little extra attention to the person who saved our asses."

"Hmph," Katavaar smirked with the appearance of one who knew that they knew something others didn't. "You have not seen the way the two look at each other, nor the foolish half-heartedness with which they deny their obvious intimacy."

"Crazy stuff," Freire suddenly felt very tired. The past week had been packed with the most unbelievable tales. He had survived a demihuman invasion from the Beastman Country after angels miraculously appeared in their hour of need, had a "friendly" spar with one of said demihumans, and now was made aware that there may or may not be a royal marriage in the near future.

"Indeed. Now come with me," he dragged a limp Freire back to the center of the training grounds. "We will work on your footwork next."

'Sore loser…'

AN: Another few minor changes I've decided on are making the oceans of the NW saltwater instead of freshwater and allowing people to do basic stuff without having the levels for it. For example, a person without cook levels won't automatically burn everything they try to make, but dishes they create just won't give any buffs outside of normal satiation & nutrition.

Also wanted to give a shoutout to Edgy & Aterro for their story Re: He Who Is Beyond Sin which I hold to be the best Re:Zero x Overlord crossover bar none. It has great characterization, a coherent plot, and good flow to the writing. Read this if you want to see pure Ainz awesomeness at play!

Additionally, check out TheNumberOfTheBeast's fic The Golden Princess! It's a great in-depth character study of Renner—a character who didn't really get a chance to shine in Overlord proper—and follows her life in the Re-Estize Kingdom. Her motivations, reasoning, and reactions are all so, so, so well written, and that's not even mentioning the amount of research that went into this fic.

Finally, I'm also posting this story on AO3 with very very occasional bits of art (by me, they suck) if you guys want to check that out as well. Same username and story name.

Thanks for reading!