AN; Back to our regularly scheduled program of the guardians. Thank you all for the positive reviews. There are so many of you, I moved the replies to the bottom for a better story flow.
On with the show!
"Citrintas, help her." Lord Ainz ordered, a faint hint of worry nipping at the edge of his words.
She jumped into action, giving out orders immediately. The assistants scuttled to carry them out, as fast as they could. Ainz gently lowered Albedo onto the floor, her massive frame nearly blocking the aisle.
Citrnitas began snapping out orders "I want her out of her armor! Now! Someone get her moved to a space I can work! Bring me all of our healing potions! You, hand me the big one." Her hands sharply gestured at the assistants, a conductor of movement and action. Several began attempting to peel off Albedo's armor, their gloved hands scorching at the heat of the metal. It was a difficult task, as each major piece weighed more than a single one of them could carry.
"[Create Lesser Item; Bed]." The white glow of Ainz's summon rose from the floor. A simple cot erected itself beneath Albedo, lifting her from the floor. she had been stripped down to the black bodysuit she wore under her armor, and now her labored breathing could be seen.
Her chest shuddered and strained, she was weak. It barely rose and fell as she settled. Patches of under armor were burnt away, especially along her arms and back, leaving hideous twisting burn marks behind. The skin had melted away, the edges blacked, bits of fat stretched over exposed muscle. Any lesser creature would have been disintegrated by one of those blasts, yet here she lay. To be alive at all was a miracle.
"Lord Momonga," Citrinitas called out. While she was heard, Ainz didn't peel his eyes from the bed. "We can save her, she'll live, but how badly do you need her back in action?"
The lights in his sockets flared as they darted over to her. "Explain."
"We can have her healed within minutes, but the costs to her body would be heavy. Alternatively I can take over her care and nothing will be lost… but time." While Citrinitas may normally have been fueled by instinct, this time, no instinct guided her. The math was simple; Albedo had an incredibly high health pool, filling it back up would be a monstrous task. They could either nurse her back over time with the stockpile of health potions they've just made, or pop her back to full with one of their Life Elixirs. One would take time, and she would be out of combat shape until she fully recovered, the other would expend a resource they didn't have ready access to.
'In the gamer's guide, there's a saying as old as time. The only health that matters is your last. However,' His boney hands gripped around the bed frame. 'This isn't a gameworld. People are actually getting hurt. It's not just health bars and mana pools. I made a mistake, it almost cost Albedo her life. We're lucky it was only a holy chariot and not something of even higher level. She has earned her rest.'
"I place her in your care." Ainz's hands unclenched the headrest, leaving small dents in their place. "Please… make sure she's alright."
Citrinitas bowed, "She'll be as good as new. I swear it."
Ainz left the room, and Citrinitas was swarmed by assistants holding everything she asked for. "Send the Elixir back, we're doing this the old fashioned way." The assistant with the elixir nodded before returning it to the vault, where it will be safe for another emergency.
She propped up Albedo's pillow, raising her up ever so slightly. The potion had to be portioned and given slowly, as Albedo wasn't in any state for chugging. In Citrinitas's steady hands the vial tipped back and forth, resting with the beat of her patient's breaths. Something ached in Citrinitas's chest, and she tried to keep it down, but it's claws kept scratching at her lungs.
'I'm not worried… Why would I be worried?' Her hands moved steadily, independent of her feelings. Each movement was deliberate, swift, and sure. Suddenly it felt as if eyes stared into the back of her head. With a cold whisper, she said, "Leave us." A shiver waited at the base of her spine as she kept her focus on the task ahead of her.
The murder of raven haired assistants quielty shuffled out of the room. Directionless, they didn't know what to do, much less what to feel. The tapping of shoes caught their attention, as a demon came their way. By his side was one of their kin, a grin on her face. "Ladies, I have come with an offer." The words rolled off of Demiurge's tongue as he desperately tried to hold his excitement.
Citrinitas continued to nurse her way through the vials. An unfamiliar silence hung over the duo, but it held no undertones of boredom, which she hated so much, only reserved worry. It was unusual for the alchemist. By the end of her 6th vial, Albedo's breathing had returned to something akin to a restful state. Her skin had begun to return to normal as fat covered over muscle, skin lost it's char weaving itself shut, but the flush across her face still remained. 'It's not like she's actually my sister. We're not even the same species. She's a succubus. I'm a homunculus.'
She set aside the empty glass vials, recognizing that she couldn't rush her back to perfect health. Doing so would cause side effects, and even potions could be overdosed. Potion overdosing wasn't a feature commonly found in games, but if Albedo's state was anything to go by, this wasn't a game anymore. She could have handed Albedo over to a magical healer, the cleric or Mare, but something stopped her. It was that feeling of pride, she couldn't just turn over her sister to someone else. She was capable on her own. They were the optimal choice, but they weren't Citrinitas, and she couldn't accept that. With a grunt, she slid her hands under Albedo's back, lifting her into a bridal carry. 'We don't even share a childhood. It's not like we grew up together, with parties and parents. Those events were staged. They were for the amusement of gamers.'
Carefully she made her way across the empty hall, she crossed into the garden. Albedo would need a place to rest and recover in quiet, and Citrinitas dared not go to Albedo's room. It was way too far. The night garden still maintained it's peaceful atmosphere, even as the pair trudged their way down the path. Her heels didn't click, but clacked dully as her arms burned from the weight. She marched on, deep into the garden where the house stood watching. It's dark eyes held no judgment, and it's silence made way for the two of them. 'We were mere dolls in the largest dollhouse! Dressed up and told to play for our father's amusement. He didn't know!'
The interior sparked to life as Citrinitas elbowed the lightswitch. It was homely, if a bit off. Walls defied any sense of parallelity, and the ceiling was ever so slightly crooked. Pictures hung, above the stairway, were somewhat blurry, but she paid them no mind as she carried Albedo up. She struggled as her sister's weight shifted, nearly tipping them both. While their stats may have been different, they were cut from that same unbreakable cloth. Drivenby sheer force of will, she continued her march to the guest room. The moment Albedo was laid in bed, Citrinitas nearly collapsed from exhaustion. She rested her head against the bedside as she stared at the ceiling. 'Why does it hurt to see her hurt! We barely know each other, even if we're both sisters.'
In the restful quiet of the room, only one sound could be heard; soft, exhausted panting. For the first time since the Yggdrasil, Citrinitas realized just how tired she was. Not having slept in 6 years kind of makes you forget about sleep. For her, it's been about 2 days now. Mustering up a bit more energy, she picked herself up off the floor and stumbled her way towards the master room. She was too tired to pay the warped design any mind, even if the length of the bed dwarfed her frame flopping onto it. Her coat sprawled around her like white blanket. Hunger, thirst, the need for a good bath, all of these were things she dreamed about.
Out on the battlefield, Commander Nigun grunted as he sat up. Blood matted his hair and clothing, not all of it his own. Bones had been broken, and walking no longer seemed an option. His L shaped leg wasn't going anywhere. The screams of both the undead and the living could be heard piercing the night around him.
'It wasn't supposed to turn out this way.' He thought to himself as his head stopped spinning enough to think. 'Just isolate and kill the world strongest swordsman, good luck! Undead support wasn't in the briefing! God, why have you allowed this fate to pass? If this is our burden to bear, I can name no man loyal to you and you alone strong enough to face the reaper!' He prayed, and for the first time in his life, it was honest. Trickery, hard work, and ambition had gotten him this far in life, but tonight, tonight those things seemed small and pitiful beneath forces that were hard to understand. The reaper had assigned numbers to divinity, just after wiping them out in a heartbeat.
Reaching into his pocket with a quivering hand, he brought out a small blue potion. Unlike the fancy glass ones rookie adventurers buy, this was a simple cylinder design akin to a liquor bottle. Along it was a paper wrap emblazoned with a red cross on it, the universal symbol of healing items, under it were a series of numbers; potency and expiration date. Unable to steady his hands through the pain, he clenched his teeth around the cork, popping it off. As he drank, the bones in his leg and rib cage began to shift back into place. Searing pain whitened his vision. His bones made a cracking noise as they snapped, before silently fusing back to where they belonged. The pain faded and his vision cleared with repetitive blinking, his side still hurt, but he could finally stand up, even if he had to limp.
Flashes of magic went off around him, as what few men remained of his battalion continued to fire off magic into the now straggling horde. An undead, one of the blue knights from earlier, noticed him. It stumbled towards him like a drunkard, before leaning into a full tilt sprint.
Nigun heard the sounds of clinking metal and boots slapping against mud. Quickly, with trained precision, he pivoted around. Without his staff, which had been shattered along with his leg earlier, he had to resort to hand casting. His hands etched runes into the air, leaving trails behind like those of a sparkler. It was a simple shape, only taking a few twists and turns of the wrist, a symbol of fire. He pressed his palm against it, pushing mana through. Much like his mana flowing in, fire flowed out. A jet of flame shot forth, engulfing the sprinter into arcane fire. It scrambled, screaming as it waved its hands around, trying to swat away the fire. Before it could close the rest of the distance, it collapsed to the ground, writhing before curling up as the negative energy left its system, it's purple glowing eyes fading away, returning it to a charred corpse.
With a huff, he turned to limp away towards the remains of his men. As he grew closer, he could see that they had turned the tide of the battle. The last of the undead were being blasted away as the survivors huddled into a circle, spells at the ready. He picked up his pace, wanting both the safety of numbers, and to be in control of the situation once more. The cool night wind rushed past his face as he hobbled along. Cool began to creep into cold, as the crisp night air sharpened its teeth around him. It's cruel, long fingers gripped into his lungs and whipped at his skin.
One of his men pointed him out, and the crowd moved in to protect him. As they drew closer, he began to see his breath, and theirs as well. His loyal troops, dedicated to their fight and pumped with adrenaline didn't notice, but he did. They huddled around him, still ready for the next fight.
His breath puffed out in front of him like a ghost, his mind began to race. 'It's not winter, why is it so cold? Don't tell me the reaper had changed the seasons just to kill us?' Nigun tried to shape his hands in front of him, blood retreating from his fingertips, seeking refuge from the cold. The chill of the night had stepped aside for the frigid winds of winter, in the middle of summer. He knew they weren't prepared for this, with only a few spells that could help them. Light flickered at his fingertips as he tried to draw a warmth spell, but the shock of the sudden plummet in heat made casting difficult. The encroaching cold on his mind made it impossible. Around him, his men tried to cast warmth as well, failing as he did.
A faint orange glow ebbed forth from one of them, in his hands was a glowing ball of orange light. It radiated it's vibrant heat, a miniature campfire in the palm of his hand. The heat spread forth, the scratching of the cold banished from the minds of the casters, freeing them to bring forth heat as well.
Warmth sprang forth as they cast heat into being, each man holding his own life in his hands as the temperature continued to drop. Frost crept around them, coating the countryside in its paranormal blanket. The blood from the fighting had frozen over, icy puddles having been formed around the bodies that strew the battleground. Their little pockets of heat seemed smaller and smaller by the minute, their lifelines giving in to the encroaching frost.
The temperature continued to drop. Nigun refused to give in so easily. "Forward men! We'll take refuge in town!"
The troops began their frigid march, the white death of the cold surrounded them. Some of the men began to whisper, saying they had seen the devil. They spoke of leathery wings blocking out stars. Constantin refused to believe them. 'These fanatics, as loyal as they may be, always start talking about seeing things. The only monsters we've seen were the undead. If demons and dead men were working together, it would truly be a cold day in hell.'
Someone in the right wing screamed. Everyone jumped at the sound, many dropping their warmths, drawing up combat spells. The screamer had been hit by a trap, his leg was terribly warped as the bear trap glistened with his blood. The men around him dropped their warmths to pry it open. Healing him here was impossible, by the time he would be healed, the cold would kill them. Their potions had frozen in their bottles, refusing to be helpful. One of them had his potion vial upside down, tapping on the bottom, as if he could get it to slide out.
"Of course they'd set traps for us. Blasted Re-Estiz never did know when to quit.' "Keep your eyes peeled! They've got this place trapped."
The town around them was burnt and ruined, hollow husks of homes surrounded them, hated them. Their blackened skeletons poked at the sky. The soot beneath their feet kicked up and danced in the wind. Frosty wind swept through the town, through the frames of the buildings which refused them refuge. Soot and ash choked them, but they carried on despite the town's persistence.
The survivors tried to search for shelter, spotting a barn on the other side of town. Excitement sprung up as they began to walk over, a particularly energetic individual began jogging ahead. As he passed by a half ruined wall, he stopped. Blood trickled down his neck as his head fell from his body. His body kicked up ash when it hit the ground.
Stepping around the wall was a giant insect man. Its blue carapace shone even in the light of the moon, in his hands were long curved swords, one of them slick with fresh blood. The thing stood easily over twice the height of the humans, not including the massive icicles protruding from it's back. The men could tell it was breathing, but no condensation came forth.
As Nigun and his men began drawing their spells, dropping their warmths, the insect raised a sword at them. "[Frost Aura]." A rush of wind ran through his bones, robbing what heat he had left. Around him, he could hear the sound of his men collapsing from hypothermia, it wouldn't be much longer for himself. He no longer felt cold, sure movement was tough, but the scratching of the cold had stopped at last. As his consciousness left him, he saw it… the devil himself… A red suit and large black wings.
'What an awful day.' He thought as he went under, the cold finally showing mercy.
Demiurge was impressed, and very annoyed. He was wearing a large, puffy, red jacket, his glasses kept frosting over. It was annoying having to remove them and wipe off the frost, but Cocytus was efficient and he could forgive that.
"So these were the men that hurt Albedo and Lord Momonga?" Cocytus asked, half shocked by how quickly they were dropped by the cold. "They barely put up a fight. I find it hard to see them as warriors."
The devil placed his glasses back on, "Then you didn't see it then? That's a shame, Cocytus."
"Very well then. Tell me what you saw?"
"These casters drew their spells into being. This is different from how we cast, naming the spell and knowing it." He prodded one of the curled up forms with his foot, they didn't move. They were certainly alive, if only by the smallest available margin.
"Then this different world has a different magic system. That would explain how they bypassed Lord Momonga's defenses."
Demiurge pushed his glasses up, they shone as frost covered them again. "Indeed. It may be in the best interests of Nazarick to take them in, for research purposes of course."
Cocytus didn't reply. He had nothing to say to that, and he was too busy thinking. His exoskeleton had mediocre defense by Yggdrasil standards, lacking many of the nullifiers and a lower defense value. If this world played by different rules, then those would have been meaningless anyway. The different strategies that would spawn from this confused him, he was happy to have such smart friends.
Several gates tore into being as scale demons poured forth. They began picking up the casters, slinging them over their shoulders before lumbering back. A rotation began as they naturally fell into line for the portals, some going in, the others coming out. Bodies were taken away, deep into the dungeons of Nazarick's upper floors.
Demiurge had recently been contacted by one of the assistants, he never could tell which though. Citrinitas wanted test subjects for her potions, what kind of a guardian would he be to pass up such an opportunity to strengthen nazarick. Her work fascinated him, as it was entirely outside his strong suit. If he knew tactics and how people thought and Albedo could single handedly manage an entire dungeon, then Citrinitas's genius was in magic. Even if she could barely cast, he was always stunned by her knowledge of the arcane. Of course, none of them could stand up to the intelligence of Lord Momonga, but they would assist him however they could.
Once the work was done, the forces of Nazarick left the little dead town. The night crawled on, ash settled, fireplaces stood like gravestones, and only the embers of once lively homes remained. With what little life the town had left, it harbored one resident. On the barn floor, battered, bruised, but very much alive, was Gazef Stronoff.
Demiurge stepped back into the familiarity of Nazarick's dungeons. He watched as his scale demons carried the new worlders to holding cells. They were safe in the care of Neuronist, and soon they would spill everything they knew.
An assistant came up to him, a general sense of joy following her. "Sir Demiurge! Are these the test subjects Lady Citrinitas requested?"
"Of course, everything must be put to good use after all. I'm sure some will break instantly, they'll be among the first for your research."
"Ahh! I never thought the day would come that we would test on humans." They had so much to learn. Did the new worlders have differences in their biology? Did they have different base stats? Were they human at all? So much to know and they were right there.
Demiurge wiped his glasses of the frost once more before sliding them back into place on his nose. Memories ran through his demonic mind. 'Hadn't the supreme ones mentioned that they were only human when they talked about the Eye Er Elle? Certainly the naming scheme had to be a coincidence, there was no way that our supreme beings were the same as these… fleece-less sheep.'
"It's hard to see these creatures as human. Perhaps we shall refer to them as sheep? Certainly the others will enjoy the joke."
"I agree, Sir Demiurge. Reports can get stale, amusing naming schemes can lighten any reading session."
As Neuronist began her work, the screaming made it hard for Demiurge to hear his own thoughts. While certainly the music of torment satisfied his demonic side, it was still incredibly loud. "Assistant, shall we tell the others the good news!?" He shouted over the noise.
The assistant had her fingers plugged over her ears, the reverb of the stone walls amplifying the sound. "Certainly! Lady Citrinitas is going to love this!"
Citrinitas woke with a startle. The last time she had lost consciousness was dying. Without even opening her eyes she could tell something had changed. She had been put in bed proper, even her clothes had been changed out for sleepwear.
Moving with the weight of metal, she peaked open her eyes. She was still in the house, moonlight poured in from the evernight garden. There in the dark, piercing back at her with no malice, were two red eyes.
She dared not take a breath, as not to disturb the other. They were lucky they had gotten this far.
Shalltear was nervous. She had taken care of Citrinitas while unconscious. Having watched her work so hard, with no time to rest, it was an inspiring yet saddening experience. Once she found out she had collapsed after sending away her assistants, she knew something was wrong. Right now the vampire was frozen on the spot. Citrinitas's golden slit eyes pierced the moonlight, they were afraid.
'Did I mess up? What did I do? What do I do? Peroroncino didn't prepare me for this! She passed out, I merely wanted to help.'
'Who is that? Why did they change my clothes, tuck me in? Wait a minute.' She breathed a sigh of relief mixed with annoyance. 'Those red eyes, these behaviors, it has to be Shalltear.'
"Shalltear." Citrinitas called out, sitting up. "Come out of the dark."
She emerged from the shadow. The only sound was the light tapping of her shoes, as her dress was silent. The purple and red of her dress refused to catch the moonlight, but her face and eyes picked up the slack. She was smiling sheepishly.
"I didn't mean to scare you. I know you work so hard, seeing you passed out, I wanted to help you." She wrung the front of her dress, scared she had upset Citrinitas somehow.
'She's an honest one, I know that much. Peroroncino didn't have a lying bone in his body, and if she took after him at all, she wouldn't either. This is a bit much, but so is everything else in this fantastical dungeon.' "I'm not mad Shalltear, I was just scared. It's not everyday you wake up changed and staring at disembodied red eyes."
Shalltear silenced a laugh. She was all worried over nothing, of course her vampiric nature could be scary if one wasn't ready.
She threw off her covers, revealing her sleepwear. A full golden nightgown which ran all the way to her knees. Despite her body's protests for rest, she climbed out of bed. She winced a little as her feet touched cold hardwood. 'Doesn't matter what body you're in, some things never change.'
"Where are you going?" Shalltear asked as Citrinitas was about to leave.
"I have to go check in on Albedo. She's my patient, she got beaten up pretty badly earlier."
She fell into step beside her. "Would you maybe, want to get a bite after?" Citrinitas stopped, raising an eyebrow at the vampire. "No! Not like that! I know how you homunculi get without food."
'I had been dreaming of food. I know Peroroncino wrote her to be my wife, but I don't know if it's confirmed. So far no one has pointed out anything about my behavior but this is knowledge I don't have. Tabula had yelled at him about Shalltear's desires, but he didn't stop the marriage idea. Were we supposed to be married? That would explain the behavior, but that could also just be Shalltear being weird. Best to play it safe.' "I haven't eaten in much too long. After I check in on Albedo, we'll get food, ok?"
Albedo was not having a fun time. Everything hurt, even if she was going to be fine. She was currently being poked and prodded by Citrinitas, who was busy checking to make sure everything had healed. Shalltear hovered just beyond the door. She allowed her attention to move throughout the room, to take in the unnatural angles, the slightly sloped roof, the welcoming wallpaper.
"Hey Citrinitas, do you know what this place is?"
"Hmm, it's a house in a garden. Hard to say beyond that." She had hunches about this place. 'That design was all wrong, and the smaller details are too specific. The house is based on the prairie school style, a very specifically american design philosophy. This doesn't fit in with Yggdrasil's high fantasy design, and it doesn't fit in with anything Japanese, especially not an urban design. The warped design had obvious inspirations for the shaping, looking incredibly burtonesque, the alterations are too master bed is stretched long, the windows are tall and distinct. I find it's a safe bet that Tabula had inspiration from his childhood home.'
"Lord Tabula created this house, it was one of the last things he did before leaving for the Eye Er Elle. To be in such a place, it's truly an honor."
Citrinitas continued her search for burns, coming up empty handed. "Alright, you should be fine to go. I don't want you in combat again for at least a week though."
"Ah Citrinitas, you should have seen Lord Momonga out there. He was such a badass, coming up with masterful plans on the spot and fighting waves of enemies."
'Oh great, here we go again.'
"It's such a shame someone wasn't there to fight alongside him!" Albedo said, raising her voice, trying to anger Shalltear.
"Administrator of Nazarick! It's your fault I didn't know! Rushing off to Lord Momonga's side, you failed your role!" Shalltear fell for the bait.
Citrinitas rubbed her temple, she was too hungry for this.
"I'd hate to see how a cadaver would fare against a holy chariot in single combat." Albedo spat.
"It wouldn't even have been a challenge! The fact you got beaten isn't a testament to its strength, it's a testament to how garbage you are at combat!"
"I didn't get beaten! I killed it, Lord Momonga merely showed his love for me by carrying me to sis's care."
"Are you saying you threw the fight to worry Lord Momonga and give me extra work to do? I nearly spent something we don't have the capacity to make more of just to heal you!" Citrinitas's anger had peaked. She was hungry, thirsty, and now she was lashing out.
"Oh don't get the wrong idea vending machine. I would never handicap myself when it came to a direct order from Lord Momonga."
Citrinitas rose to her full height. 6 years, 6 long years of standing in a lab doing nothing. She had never been called a vending machine, not by anyone. "A vending machine! Listen here you metal brick, maybe next time you won't brag about getting your ass handed to you. Losing isn't a good look."
Shalltear stepped between them, seeking to enter the fray at a closer range. "As the only battle trained member here, I can confidently say that just being strong isn't enough to win a fight."
Citrinitas stormed out, throwing her hands up as she left. "I'm getting breakfast! Screw your fighting."
"Wait - darling, don't leave without me!" Shalltear called out, lifting her skirt to jog after her, leaving Albedo alone.
Later, after a good shower and fresh change of clothes back to her default outfit. Citrinitas and Shalltear entered the restaurant. Head Chef gave a nod to Sous-chef before diving back into the kitchen, they both knew what was about to happen.
Before the duo could take a seat at one of the many smaller seats of tables, Sous-chef came in and stopped them, utensil wraps in hand.
"Pardon me Lady Citrinitas, allow me to seat you." A hint of worry made its way into his voice. This didn't offset Citrinitas at all, after having seen how guardians were seen, worry was to be expected.
"Oh, thank you so much." She followed him across the room to one of the larger table set ups, fit to seat 10. Citrinitas sat at the end, with Shalltear to her side. Sous-chef placed down the cutlery before scurrying off.
The doors to the kitchen clattered open as the head chef came out with a trolley of silver cases. Amongst his other arms were bottles and glasses. In a flurry of motion, the multi armed myconid began setting out drinks and setting up dishes. The dishes were enormous, an entire cooked ham, a set of ribs she could swear had to come from an elephant, a bowl of salad big enough to bathe in, these were accompanied by a plethora of lesser side dishes. There were entire loaves of bread, one in a bluish color that concerned Citrinitas to look at, there were sauces beyond naming, and judging by the dips, more food was coming. Head chef bowed his head before rushing back to the kitchen.
What scared her most was, normally you can look at a lot of food and know about how much you can eat, here, all of this food felt consumable.
"Certainly this is a bit much?" Citrinitas asked, staring at the monster ribs.
Shalltear was toying with a wine glass of blood, the bottle by her reading Human A+, "Nonsense, you've been so busy helping Nazarick you haven't helped yourself. Dig in."
Citrinitas nervously took one of the short bow sized ribs and eyed it like it was going to eat her. Her hunger was kicking in, and this was the first time feeling the true hunger of this body. One bite, and she lost herself.
Flavor shot through her brain, her past life could never have dreamt of such depth to flavor. It wasn't that the food was better than anything earth had (it was), it was that Citrinitas could fully taste a level of depth that humans couldn't.
All sensibility was lost, hunger and desire had taken the controls. No small talk was had, there were things to taste, and food to consume. Shalltear sat back and let the cutlery fly. She herself didn't need to eat, but drinking did satisfy her. Blood was a personal favorite, followed shortly by alcohol, then anything with enough sugar to hype a sloth.
Ribs were wrecked, salads were devoured, dips dried up, sides never escaped, dishes were devastated. Sous-chef kept coming out, bringing more food for Citrinitas and drinks for Shalltear. Course after course, all fell before her, plates sent to the kitchen for more. Head chef personally loved Citrinitas, she was his favorite customer. No one in all of Nazarick, say maybe Cocytus after a gym day, could match her appetite. His many fungal arms stretched and whipped around the kitchen, he became a blur of movement, who else could hold the title of head chef of Nazarick if they weren't a one man kitchen? He was a one man kitchen line, and she was a one woman rush hour.
Soon the desert was brought out. A single slice of striped cake was placed before her. 9 strips, each a different flavor. They were super thin layers, but each one was important.
One bite, that was all she needed to go silent. She was in heaven at long last. All of that heightened sense of taste culminated in this. Super taste buds, meet Nazarick cake.
In contrast to the flurry from earlier. Citrinitas took her time with the cake. There was a lot of flavor to get through in each bite. No reason to rush heaven.
As she was finishing her cake, Demiurge walked in holding a folder. He took a seat across from Shalltear, awkwardly shuffling his tail to be comfortable in the chair.
"Lady Citrinitas, I must thank you for the request for test subjects."
"Mmmh." She replied, wiping her mouth with a handkerchief. "What for?"
"Well." He said, pushing his glasses up before sliding her the folder he brought. Shalltear pouted that work had found them so quickly. "We began our tests on non-heteromorphs, as was requested, and our findings were extraordinary. Do you know what happens if you cast [heal] on a severed limb?"
"It would disappear as a new limb grew in." She knew most of this already from the guide books she had read. While players couldn't be dismembered, monsters and NPCs could, any healed part would disappear as it was replaced.
"Precisely!" His tail began to wag. "So what would happen if that severed limb was altered somehow?"
"It would no longer count as part of the being, thus not disappearing." Made sense, once the item ID changed, the game would no longer register it when checking for severed parts. Out here in the real world, similar, albeit not as gamey, logic should still apply.
"Precisely! As to be expected of the head alchemist."
"Hey! No flattery while I'm here! She's mine." Shalltear playfully shot out, somewhat protective of Citrinitas. Demiurge fell into trying to verbally fend off the small vampire while Citrinitas flipped through the document.
'Hmm, sheep. Makes sense, we're in a highland after all. Potions and healing spells acted differently on what counted as non-severed, with healing spells being more picky. Realizing removed parts could be used and regrown, repeated skinnings are possible. Ehh, a bit dark, albeit effective. Wait, these sheep are being kept in our dungeon?' Citrintas continued to flip through the documents, fascinated by the findings.
"Demiurge. Are you certain that keeping sheep underground is best for their health?"
"They don't appear to show much negative reaction to it. Would there be a problem?"
"Well certainly the lack of sunlight and fresh air would degrade their value."
The demon held his tongue, pushing his glasses into place again. "I hadn't even given that thought. What would you propose?"
"Sheep tend to stick to groups and roam, certainly controlled ranching should be possible. There has to be some islands off the coast that can be used."
Demiurge dramatically placed his hand along his forehead. "How could I have been so foolish as not to take the livestock's necessity into account. They're not like us. Thank you Citrinitas, I shall leave you two to your business, I have a farm to set up." He said, swiftly striding from the room.
"Now that it's just the two of us." Shalltear said, sinking onto her elbows, her chin in her hands. Citrintias leaned away from her, as she got a bit close for comfort. A voice shot through their heads like a PA system.
"Lord Momonga wishes to make an announcement. You are requested at the throne room." Albedo's voice rang through their heads. Shalltear groaned as they picked themselves up, begrudgingly ready for more work.
The guardians gathered in the throne room. At the top of the stairs was Lord Momonga, sitting on a massive throne. By his side was Albedo, standing ready for any order he may have. One his other, Sebas stood at attention, the mirror of remote viewing behind him. The guardians all filed in, eager to hear the announcements from their supreme ruler.
"I have reason to believe that, in every sense of the word, we are not alone in the new world."
AN; Fun note, the commander of the theocracy, the dude with the crystal, I couldn't find a name for him anywhere. He really does only show up for one scene, but I see the value in him, he'll enjoy his stay at the happy farm. Constantin is going to love it there, I'm sure.
To add to the changes present; Cocytus's frost aura has been buffed, on the wiki it has incredibly limited range with the available temperatures both vague and undefined. Sadly the abelion sheep haven't gotten their full name. Worry not Happy Farm enthusiasts, they will soon. Citrinitas's taste buds are better than that of a human, like a bloodhound with scent. It would make sense that homunculi, creatures that need more food than any human reasonably could, would have a stronger sense of taste. This also helps cause that food-moe effect.
Also, I couldn't find anything on head chef, other than that he is a heteromorph and exists. Apparently he's a really good cook, but we know nothing about him, so I decided to take liberties.
Now for the replies.
BlueCore & wkdwarrior1 & mrknights: thank you for the encouragement. Even simple replies of "cool story" or "keep it up" really keep me going.
Sanadan: Yeah. The magic of the New World is in the same vein as wild magic conceptually, that being its freedom and lack of tiers. As for the raid boss in a consumable item, things are going to get fun.
Xavex: Yeah, this new world is harder than the source material. Bone daddy is going to have to put in more work. I'm happy my decision to buff the new world didn't rub you all the wrong way.
Peroroncino: A supreme one themselves likes my work! Let's go!
Anapgod1: Agreed, I made a mistake. Not only that, but in my effort to focus on later dialogue, it slipped my edits. In fact, that line was so cringey, I went back and edited it. Originally the line was "Demiurge comes up with a wrong answer, calls himself a genius" as he does often, however the subject matter doesn't lend well to this.
Perconsius: Her goal was to "go unnoticed, fit in." Once going unnoticed no longer became an option, fitting in was the only available choice. She only joined the waifu wars to fend off scrutiny from her peers, not to win it. Worry not, I don't plan on making Citrinitas into an Ainz simp, he has enough of those already.
Andoro: As we're past the combat chapter, it's safe to say this. Overlord source difficulty line is a flat wasteland with sudden spikes. It's barren of tension, snaps to having tension, and then returns to the wasteland. Here the land is more varied. Spikes will exist, but they won't be alone amidst nothing.
See you all next Friday! Good luck out there!
