Breeding Issues

by The Ruff Pusher

Momon the Dark Hero encounters Zesshi Zetsumei. mature content/smut

34. Chapter 34

This story uses the same setting as my other story "Momon, Big Black Changeling". Essentially, Ainz Ooal Gown is the same type of creature as in that story, although this and that story happen in different worlds.

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It was always the stillness that woke him first, more than anything else. Despite the fact that this was a secluded sort of village, and therefore it was expected there would be a little noise made here and there; the entire place could still end up completely silent during certain times. These moments, empty of noise and activity, always unnerved him, making him tense like he was expecting an attack to come any moment. If he was asleep that meant he would always wake, suspecting some sort of betrayal or other similar villainy from the forces unknown. In this very occasion, such treachery would have to come from the dark elves who lived in this place.

That was not to say that these dark elves were people that had given him reason to be cautious. On the contrary, they had shown themselves to be relatively pleasant folk. They had a healthy dose of suspicion for strangers and the like. They had regarded him and his entourage with the healthy amount of respect that could be accorded to a visitor of their village. After a brief period of negotiation, they had accepted Ainz and his party as honored guests. The two parties had displayed all manner of courtesies to each other over the entire week they had stayed here.

Perhaps it was their very lifestyle that brought Ainz on edge. There was a certain tranquil quality to the air here in this secluded village, as if it were a place entirely hollowed out from the rest of the world. It was as if time had been commanded to stand still for many long years at that—or however many generations of dark elves there had already been in this place. It was enough to make him suspect there was an enchantment of sorts. It would have made things interesting to discover this was true, but he found nothing after checking. The isolated dark elf village was just as exactly as it appeared: just a chunk of civilization hidden away in the deepest part of the forest.

That was one more to add to the disappointments he had felt on this particular trip. To discover that these dark elves, who had gotten so fabled a reputation in the world "outside" were not some super mysterious thing, but just ordinary folk cut off from civilization. In fact, he was the exotic one among them, for being a dark elf who had somehow managed to live far from an established tribe. From this he had learned that there were many more dark elves living in isolated communities all over the forest, and that they were not united in the sense of having a formal nation, as the Elf Country did.

He sighed, and tried not to move so much. Beside him, Zesshi was yet sleeping, curled up against his side in a protective manner, as if she were guarding him with her body. It felt exceptionally warm and comfortable to have her body so close to him, and he certainly had nothing to complain about having a gorgeous lady with such sensual curves practically embracing him in her sleep, her soft parts like a pleasant cushion that he could nuzzle as part of his privilege as her lover.

Obviously, he had yet to tell her of his true thoughts about their trip, in particular that of his disillusionment with the entire thing. She seemed to enjoy staying in this village happily enough, even when the dark elves treated her as the one who was the most "foreign" among them. She was a different breed of elf, and a half at that, which made her something of an exotic celebrity. To these villagers, humans were treated just as much as mythical beings; as the rest of the world likewise treated these mysterious elves.

Apparently, he and Pandora's Actor had been too clever by half in designing their template of a dark elf. Ainz's disguise had been accepted by the village with no questions asked, where he saw that the reality of these dark elves' appearances had largely aligned with his expectations. They were, in fact, just older versions of Mare and Aura.

However, if he considered the objective to be donning a form that would be acceptable to the dark elves, then the disguise was already a massive success. No one expressed any doubts about his appearance or that of the twins', and instantly thought that they were emissaries from another village. The only one they recognized as an "outsider" was Zesshi, though they were still rather courteous to her as a guest.

Thanks to a good first impression, Ainz had been able to make a good rapport with the village, especially with the supposed elders who oversaw the village's affairs. That meant they took his explanations at face value, and he didn't need to use any sort of magic to further coerce them to do what he wanted. They were gracious enough to grant him one of their tree houses to stay in for the duration, all without even needing to be paid. He had wanted to insist on paying for his stay, but didn't press for it. He reasoned that it might have had something to do with the fact that they were fellow dark elves, and that he had not been outwardly hostile. It seemed they had yet to find a reason to fear a vagabond taking advantage of their kindness—an innocence that was almost refreshing. But it wasn't as if they were naïve or unskilled: his observation of their lifestyles marked them as great tamers of the nature surrounding them, whether by hunting down beasts or through the manipulation of magic to carve out homes or maintain crops.

And yet he was unsure about the success of his other objective: to allow Aura and Mare to meet with fellow dark elves who were of the same age as them. He had appeared to the dark elves as an indulgent father who was willing to let his charges see the world by traveling all around the world.

To that end, he had specifically requested that the twins be allowed to play with the children in the village. The adults had not seemed to mind this request, seeing it as a commendable thing. One of the elders had even brought up something during a dinner talk. These were such times where Ainz could sense that the elders were probing him for the circumstances of his birth and early life; as if they were curious about how exactly a dark elf like him had been born so far away. Unfortunately, Ainz couldn't really give any concrete details, (and obviously didn't want to) so he kept things vague and unclear. What had been more important for him was securing their tacit approval of his proposal for the twins.

After days of watching their actions from afar, he was forced to conclude that the result he had been expecting would not come to pass. The twins had not been able to make any meaningful relationships with any of the other children, nor less formed some sort of bond of friendship or companionship. He had even been braced for the formation of some sort of childish "first-love", which he'd have to discourage for their sake. And yet to his eyes there was nothing of the sort.

Certainly, he was able to tell that they were able to fit in well with the other children, despite his initial misgivings. They were happy to be around them, and did not exclude them from their playing. He might have expected either of the twins to get fed up being surrounded by all these weaklings. He had thought that a misunderstanding would arise that would be difficult to resolve, requiring his personal intervention to smooth things over. But those hadn't happened. None of the children had been observed to be harmed, and even if he might have missed some incident; he also didn't sense a sort of tension among the dark elves concerning the children, or even himself.

Quite the contrary, the twins actually seemed to have amassed some sort of following among the adults and not the children. Anytime the twins finished their allotted playtime with the other children, they were usually followed around by a group of adults. Aura said that they were mostly asking about their prodigious skills, and of the possibility of training under them. Mare also claimed that they were angling to become the twins' underlings in some manner. While Ainz was pleased that these dark elves acknowledged the twins' strengths, he wasn't sure how they should be responding to this sort of attention. They weren't going to be staying here permanently after all, and so taking in apprentices or underlings wasn't really feasible. He was glad that the twins seemed happy though, after a fashion. But it was the wrong type of attention they'd gotten, which was amusing and frustrating for Ainz.

Certainly, he had enough on his own plate dealing with the other dark elves who routinely came to him for "advice". They seemed to think that, as a dark elf from the outside, he was something of a worldly sort, and would thus be able to expound on his accumulated knowledge—usually by sharing stories of his experiences. He was glad to share his "adventures", which were usually the ones in the distant game of Yggdrasil, with certain details changed.

In hindsight, perhaps he shouldn't have done that. The dark elves might have gotten the wrong idea about him, thinking him some great traveling hero, an exemplar of their kind—and thus someone who must be monopolized at all costs. He didn't really know their exact intentions, but if the past conversation with one of the elders was any indication, then they might have been thinking to formally invite him to live inside the village, along with the twins.

It was a proposal that was entirely out of the question, as a matter of course. And it also revealed the minds of those dark elves here. They were only really thinking about their small world here in this village, and were not really interested to interact with the outside. To them, it seemed a correct expectation for him to "go home" to the place he truly belonged: here inside the village.

Ainz thought that perhaps they should start moving on now—he had seen what he had wanted to see, and had given the twins an opportunity. The vacation was coming to a close, and the time to depart was here. The twins may not have been able to accomplish his dream of them acquiring some childhood friends and good memories with their own kin, but at the very least they all learned something new. And Ainz now had a clear image of what a dark elf should be—something that might be useful for the infiltration efforts of his subordinate doppelgangers.

"Mmmm…" He heard a voice from his side. It was a lovely voice, a moan that would have excited him sexually if he had heard it for the first time. And yet, perhaps it was because he had already heard the like many times before, or because it was specifically Zesshi's voice, that it seemed normal for him. But it didn't seem disappointing that it no longer excited him; for instead there existed a fondness that made his insides feel light and warm and fuzzy.

Zesshi's body squirmed as she stirred awake. Ainz looked down to watch the movements of her face as she rose from the depths of her dreams. Needless to say, her sleeping form was very much enchanting, and with the way her lovely body had lain there helpless; he knew no sane man would have resisted the slightest temptation—even unto their deaths. He was glad that he alone had the privilege to touch her in this state; though he refrained from doing so now.

They hadn't been able to make love since that time the twins had almost caught them in the forest. Obviously, there were no clear prohibitions against doing it while they were already inside the village. But to him, he felt exposed while surrounded by all the strangers gathered there, even if they were disciplined enough not to nose into his matters. And that was not to discount the very real possibility of actually getting discovered by the twins or some other dark elves, which would have been very shameful.

"Mmmm… Huhhh… Oh." Finally Zesshi's eyes blinked awake. Her face instantly bloomed into a smile when she regarded him. "Ah, good morning, my lord."

"Good morning," he replied warmly.

Still bleary-eyed, Zesshi yawned and stretched her limbs, like a cat. "Have you been awake long? You should have woken me up."

"What sort of gentleman would I have been if I did that?" Ainz said with a raised brow. "To disturb my beloved lady while she's getting her well-deserved rest? The nerve. The indignity."

"Fufufu… Well I wouldn't have minded, my lord." Zesshi pushed off the bed, grasped his shoulder, and pushed her face forward against his. He turned his head to meet her with a kiss, simple and warm. "Pfahahh…" Zesshi said with a half-yawn afterward, as she laid her head on his shoulder. Her weight felt warm and comforting against his body. "I will never get tired of being able to wake up next to you, my love."

He grunted, and tried to hide his smile. "I feel the same." They just sat there, huddled in silence, for a bit longer, cloaked in the shared warmth and the amiable silence of a pleasant morning atmosphere. The sun shafts that beamed through the windows had moved a few centimeters across the earthen floor before she spoke again.

"So what will be the plan today, my lord? Will you indeed go hunting, as they proposed?"

Ainz was silent for a while, as he mulled over the question. He had been invited by the hunters of the village to join them in one of their hunts. He suspected that the only reason for it was because they were aware Aura and Mare would also want to follow him, and these two were their real targets whom they wanted to join.

After a beat, he shook his head. "No. My thanks to this village, but we must depart now. I think we've experienced all we needed here."

Zesshi raised her brows. "Oh? Well, it's about time. Not that I'm complaining, my love. It's surely not something to do with not being able to receive your…" she whispered the last few words directly in his ear. He grinned at her lasciviousness.

"There will be more of that later," he said in assurance. He really was looking forward to it.

"I shall hold you to that," she said airily, as she played with his long ears. "I will be glad, somewhat, to be rid of this place. All the ridiculous stares they're giving me—and the twins too. All because of these damned eyes… Perhaps you should have been heterochromatic yourself, my lord."

It had certainly been on his mind; but to him he had the instinctive notion that doing so would have presented themselves as completely unnatural to these dark elves. A full party of heterochromatic elves? Ominous perhaps. He had no basis for his fears, but he decided on being "normal" in the end.

"…I don't know what it is they see in your eyes, Zesshi," Ainz said. "But at least to me they are the most wonderful things in this forest. And that, to me, is enough."

She punched his cheek lightly, and said nothing else. But the way she burrowed her face right in the crook of his neck, like she wanted to hide, was proof enough of what she was thinking in that brief moment.

Some time later, they had both freshened up, and were now leaving their small room. They descended the wooden bridge that led down to the lower levels, meeting and greeting various dark elves who were already awake. Ainz's destination was the ground level, where he knew the twins were located.

Once they arrived, it was easy enough for them to find the twins—there was already a large cluster of dark elves at a certain place. In a village as small as this, a crowd appearing somewhere most definitely stood out. If nothing else, the noise would also suffice to lead the curious hither. Ainz spied the twins at the center of this gathering.

It was almost like a scene straight of a fairy tale. Here, in the middle of a great forest, surrounded by trees and greenery; by the wild, savage beat of untamed nature, were two dark elves of considerable beauty, their child-like visages reflecting the innocence that they each possessed. And all around them were the other dark elves, hovering close like attendants sworn to provide requisite comfort, companionship and entertainment for these twins. It was an idyllic scene, one which he could imagine being set up by his more artistic guildmates in the past, like the heroic-looking set up of the Pleiades (and Sebas) ready to defend the Throne Room at all costs.

Even from afar, Ainz could hear their excited chattering as they gushed over the twins. It had already been almost a week since their arrival, and still these dark elves couldn't stop gawking at or fawning over them, all because they had those particular eyes. The twins seemed to have sprouted a crown of multi-colored flowers on their heads, with long, stringed garlands of them draped aver their shoulders. Aura looked faintly embarrassed and smiling at all the attention, preening like a prized pet; and to contrast that, Mare looked rather discomforted, as if he was unsure what to do with all this attention.

It was a fascinating sight, and one he would commit to memory. Unfortunately, he would have to break the spell that hung over them now, as time was not on their side.

When they spotted his arrival, the twins' respective expressions changed to something like that of universal joy. "Ain-sama!" they cried, leaping up from the log they had been seated on to run towards him and Zesshi. The dark elves parted respectfully before them, and some of them even greeted Ainz heartily, though with markedly less of the devotion they had given to the twins. It was rather nice to not be the center of attention.

"Good morning you two," he said in greeting. "Have you slept well?"

"Yes, we did."

"I see you're enjoying yourself, hm?"

He expected them to nod their heads, saying "Uh-huh" to that. But the twins just looked perplexed, glancing at each other before nodding in a way that meant, "Sure, as you say, Ainz-sama."

He then noticed that almost all the attention of the crowd was now focused on him, as a consequence of drawing the twins' attentions. The crowd's stares made it hard to just broach the subject of leaving directly, as it would surely be heard outright, leading to a scene he didn't really want to face.

"Ain-sama?" Aura said, her head tilted.

"Ahhh… no, one moment." He was about to discreetly cast a silent Message spell, when there came footsteps from behind him. Vigilant as ever, he turned quickly, and saw that these were two dark elves, who stopped in front of the crowd, panting and breathless.

One of them stepped up, glanced towards Ainz and Zesshi, then spoke, all the while having to pause to catch his breath: "Oi, everyone! Runner just came up to the gates, claimed to come from all the way over at Crescent Lake! Apparently, they want warriors to help fight their battle! The elders have called for a grand meeting!" Instantly, the assembled crowd broke into whispering and muttering among themselves. Ainz noted more than half didn't look pleased. The spell that had been woven around the twins had been broken, returning everything to normalcy.

The messenger looked towards him. "And sir Ain, the elders have also invited you to join, as well, if it pleases you."

"Mmm… Ah, yes, you may count on my presence," Ainz said formally, before watching the messenger pair run off to another part of the village.

It was fortunate that he didn't need to Message Aura and Mare about their imminent departure, as the crowd had now dispersed. However, this also came at a very bad time, as he could no longer just discreetly leave while all of this was going on. Though, Ainz did feel curious about how these dark elves would handle such a message. It wasn't the first time he had heard that the dark elves were aware of their distant kin in the Elf Country, but he'd never actually been told that the latter could demand warriors to be sent.

A couple of hours later, all the dark elves were once more assembled before the trio of elders. Ainz and the others lurked at the periphery, with Ainz himself gazing with interest upon the proceedings. The elders informed their people the general gist of the war between the Theocracy and the Elf Kingdom, and reiterated what the messengers had already said. Apparently, the distant Elf King demanded the resolution of an "ancient debt" by their peoples, which would be done by sending warriors to reinforce them.

At that, there came a fierce debate, which Ainz saw as a conflict between two major forces in the village, the voice of the elders and the young hunters. Though the elders' words, as tradition dictated, were paramount; the hunters, who were the major providers of food for the village, often disagreed with their rulings as the young were wont to do.

In this very situation, the roles once more came into conflict with each other, as the dark elves debated on whether or not they should even honor the Elf King's demand, as they did not have any sort of "warriors" at all. Those who knew skill at arms were the young hunters, and though the elders might seem glad to be rid of them, it seemed it would not be easy to replace their skills, which might doom the village to starvation.

It was then here that Ainz was consulted, quite publicly, by one annoying dark elf, which instantly made him the center of attention once again by the entire assembly. He stopped short of scratching his head in frustration, and instead spoke his "wisdom" as succinctly as he could.

"Ah, please do not take my words with much thought, as I am not an authority on such things. But if it were up to me, then I would indeed honor the debt owed to these Elves, if indeed such things existed. But then, I would also start preparations for fleeing this place entirely, as I would also know that these Theocracy humans are tenacious, and would never forgive their enemies, let alone those who aided them. Sooner or later, they will seek out this village to find you. And, it might take time, but they will… Ah, but please do not think what I'm saying is an absolute truth! It's just my own opinion, guided by my observations, nothing more. I am not responsible for the village, and am a mere outsider looking on. Please do not mind me, or the words I say."

Somehow, they took his word with a lot of seriousness, as each side seemingly praised his mediating wisdom. In fact, they even went so far as to approve of it unanimously, in a united fashion quite uncharacteristically of the two factions; by doing exactly as he had suggested. A small group of hunters would be dispatched as the "warriors" that the Elf King wanted, while the rest of them were commanded to start packing up and move. Ainz wondered if the hunters that would be sent knew the sort of danger they were going into, as there was a very large chance of them being killed, if not captured and sold as slaves. He knew he would have done so himself, if a group of hitherto unknown dark elves just up and appeared somewhere.

Perhaps I should have Nazarick capture them instead? Ainz thought. That was certainly one way for him to indulge his bias towards this village. Well, it would also be a way for him to monopolize the knowledge of the dark elves, in order to keep them as a mystery that only he alone knew.

As the assembly started breaking up, with each villager being given a task to accomplish, Ainz breathed out a sigh. With this, they could definitely just take their leave, citing the danger of being so close to a warzone.

He looked down and noticed that Zesshi was scowling at something. He followed her line of sight towards a gaggle of women at the far side of the dissipating crowd. He locked eyes with one of them, who blushed and shrieked and turned away quickly, causing the others to make tittering sounds as they spoke hurriedly among each other. Ainz blinked at their strange behavior.

"Hmph," he heard Zesshi say. Apparently, those women were the source of her displeasure, or something like that. Sensing that this was a landmine of a subject to bring up—in more ways than one—Ainz beckoned for her and the twins to leave. Their trip to this village was now about to end.

They came to a secluded area of the village, where Ainz paused to address them.

"We'll be leaving soon, as I told you," Ainz said. "But we're not to return to Nazarick just yet."

"Huh? How come, Ainz-sama? Is there another place we have to go to?" Aura asked. Zesshi looked at him with a silent question on her lips, also just as confused as the twins.

"Yes. This time you will need to be prepared to fight. I will need you at your very best combat forms." At that, the twins' expressions blanked, their faces now looking like a pair of well-made figurines. Their eyes glinted with readiness, almost inhuman in nature, which would have surprised the creature that Ainz had been. For a brief moment, they looked exactly as the NPCs they had been back in Yggdrasil.

"We will always be ready, Ainz-sama," Aura said, to which Mare nodded with some confidence. "If it's no trouble to ask, what shall we be engaging?"

He grinned. "It occurs to me that a golden opportunity has now presented itself. And we simply cannot miss it." He raised his finger. "Since the Capital of the Elf Kingdom is confirmed to be in dire straits, it is only a matter of time before it falls. And so, before it falls, we must do all in our power to secure the treasures that lie within its innermost walls. It would be a shame if they were lost forever, or if another should claim it. And so, while the elves are distracted with the ongoing siege by the Slaine Theocracy, we shall sneak inside and claim the Kingdom's treasures right under their noses."

"Ooooh~ A magnificent play, my lord Ainz!" Aura said. Mare clapped, smiling widely beside her.

"Please leave it to us, my lord," Mare said.

Only Zesshi didn't offer any sort of praise. In fact, she seemed pensive. "My lord, I must remind you that the Elf King is not one who would lead his people into a glorious defense. No, he will most definitely be waiting within his sanctum, and most likely will be ready to intercept any sort of intruder that will come. I do not completely know what he is capable of, but there is a slight possibility that he will see us coming."

"And what of it?" Ainz said, smiling. "Would you not think this meeting a golden opportunity? It is not like any of us here are unprepared to deal with such a… trifling nuisance."

Zesshi's face bloomed into a smirk. She chuckled, the light in her eyes promising a storm of violence. "Well, if you put it that way, my lord, then I see no objection to it. And here I thought this vacation would be completely uneventful. I thank you for the chance to whet my blade, my love."

"And I hope he can be a good sort of challenge for you, Zesshi my dear."

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The capital of the Elf Kingdom rose around the appropriately named Crescent Lake, which was said to contain mystical powers. A long time ago, a certain elf had come to a settlement near the shores of the lake. He boasted great power, and under his guidance, the small settlement bloomed into a town, then a city, then a metropolis for elf-kind. The old tribes, once scattered all over, were united under the rule of that same elf, lauding him their King eternal.

For centuries this capital city had endured, partially hidden within a great and vast forest that was equally as impervious from invasion as the city itself. In seclusion and noninterference did the nation draw its strength: its refusal to meddle in the affairs of the nations outside its borders ensured that it made no enemies. As empires and kingdoms rose and fell through the years, the elves endured, timeless and proud.

Still, that meant that it had also made no worthwhile friends. Because now the city itself was gripped in a terrible, all-consuming fire, the nation beset by another and with no allies to help defend it. The ancient protections, which had once warded all attempts to approach the city without permission, had fallen at last. Its great defenders, in whose blood flowed the might of gods (it is said), were reduced to a mere trickle. Only those who refused to be captured and forced into slavery by the invading humans were left to fight, and they were doing a poor job of it. As a consequence, the city was now as helpless as any out there that had its walls torn down, like an animal whose throat is bared and ready for slaughter.

Yet where was its ruler, he whose benevolent aegis had helped protect the city all this time? He who had infused this civilization of elves with the blood of gods: who had sprouted all these mighty children who might have, in a kinder world, been exalted in all the lands?

The Elf King, Decem Hougan, cared not for the noise outside his inner sanctum. It had all the makings of a distracting racket, like some bothersome neighbor who didn't know their place. He had no reason to direct the defense of the capital himself, nor did he deign to lift a finger to come forth in all his glory to fight off the invaders.

For him who valued the worth of his blood most, he was preoccupied with a matter most dire in its importance. Above his commitment to his country, it was his eternal task, his reason for living, from which he derived no pleasure—except of course, for a job well done. As he lay there on the royal bed, he grunted and finished inside the latest mewling specimen to be given his precious seed. He hoped she would become a mother—and yet it was not solely because he hoped to replenish the ranks of the progeny that had fallen over the recent days. No, his role was constant, and not even the threat of a war would make him stop it. He would see the continuation of his line by any means necessary; and most importantly, these children must be deemed worthy of carrying his legacy.

The walls shook, causing the women surrounding him to babble and wail in fear. Decem's eyes flickered, his keen senses able to pick up on what was happening outside. It appeared something large, like a boulder, had crashed close somewhere. And yet, it would not be able to damage his palace, as it was reinforced by his own magic, which was undoubtedly flawless.

He exhaled. There was a shift in his mind from the need to reach a quota of bred women. Perhaps he would need to venture outside the palace, just so he could remind these irksome humans of their place in the hierarchy of history. He had made many such as these learn their lessons over the years, and he took no pleasure in it, seeing it as an annoying thing to do again and again.

Decem pushed the woman off his royal member, and rose from the bed. The woman squeaked and stumbled to the floor in an ungainly heap, where she was helped by her husband and several retainers.

"My lord," one of the sheep bleated at him. "The city, it is… What should we do…?" He recognized in their voices a great, ugly fear. He didn't know why they were talking about the city, but he recognized that this fear was most likely related to the prospect of being unable to bear his child. Only a fool would commiserate with a female's problems, and he was no fool.

He thrust his hand up, imperiously. "Return to your duties, for now, and await my return. You can at least do that, can't you?" He stared at them with his piercing gaze, which never failed to make the menfolk bow their heads in shame, and the women enthralled like bitches in heat. Yes, the privilege afforded him by these eyes could not be overstated. It was how he'd guided these wretches for all these years after all.

After he was robed once more, he considered the situation. When he had been breeding those mares back there, he had been receiving constant reports by messenger of the state of the battle. The last he had heard, the very last wards surrounding the city had fallen, leaving the city itself in a very vulnerable position. He reconsidered, briefly, the report that had made the walls shake just now. Certainly, with the magical defenses lost, even a pebble might leave notches on the city's glorious structures.

He clucked his tongue in annoyance. Over the past decades, the women of this city had only given him useless disappointments. Instead of the glorious creatures that he had been destined to have; all that he had been given had been literal runts of the litter, too weak to even grow the divine spark that had been woven into their beings. An entire batch had been lost during this infernal siege, their arms and heraldry lost, no doubt stolen by those human vermin. Priceless objects from his treasury, which he would have to reclaim.

He frowned, as his senses detected another matter. Speaking of his treasury, it seemed that there were intruders close by. It was much like sensing a fleck of mud on his hair. Why a group of rats had been allowed to enter the Palace at all was an answer he would wring from his so-called "guards". Before that, he'd need to attend to these intruders. It was very likely these were just the Theocracy's goons, who might have expected his arrival at the front-lines in order to perform such mischief here; well, they would know the exact price of annoying him, just as he had done to their kind not a day ago.

He swiftly descended into his hallowed vaults, intent on thoroughly crushing these audacious vermin that had skulked inside, who were now perhaps exulting that they had been successful in getting in. He clucked his tongue, knowing that actually needing to go after them took away precious time from him, for time was a resource that he did not possess in great bounty.

Presently, he arrived, and with his great sight was able to immediately grasp the situation. The intruders were not human, but elves—their skin denoting their provenance as distant cousins. And furthermore, these were all but children, mere brats who should know better than to intrude on adult matters that were beyond their comprehension. As he gazed upon them, he felt his body shuddering, a peculiar sensation he immediately dismissed. It was perhaps a vibration from the outside as the humans' projectiles sang their work.

Then, as the twins turned to look at him, he saw their eyes, and immediately he recognized the truth. These were actually his own children, who had somehow stumbled into this place through sheer luck or happenstance. Perhaps they even thought to abscond with his treasures, mistakenly assuming that with the humans at the gates he would be soon meeting his demise. Well, children were allowed their fantasies—though they were certainly not allowed his treasures, even if they were his get.

He cocked his head, and thought to himself for a few seconds. Had he ever slept with a representative of the dark cousins? His memory was drawing a blank, as he would have remarked on the odd skin color of any of his recent mares. There was a possibility that they weren't his children after all. Well, there was one way to test that.

Without gesture, and without voice, he cast spells upon himself, conferring the visages and strengths of terrible beasts unto his person. This he could do as naturally as breathing, something which even the greatest of human sages could not replicate. When he was done, those who beheld him now were afflicted by the primal urge to flee, as his form would be warped in their minds into an image of a terrible, bloodthirsty beast, ready to claim their flesh for its own. He had cowed many an army in just the same manner, and he would have used this first against the Theocracy. He would be using it later, once he'd finished with his business here.

These children would be expected to cower and wail in fear, perhaps even turn tail and run away. Perhaps they would even faint from sheer fright, and maybe even die from such a heavy strain. If any of that had happened, then it was of no consequence to him. It would prove that these were not of his stock, and that their eyes were mere decorations.

However, these children stood firm at the sight of him, as if he had done nothing at all. Even he found himself taken aback, for surely there would have been some reaction to what he had done. And yet, the two only seemed to stare blankly at him as he let the illusion linger for a few seconds.

Then one of them spoke and said, "Oi, are you pointing that magic at us by any chance? Does that mean you wanna fight? Hm?"

"Impressive," he muttered under his breath, as his eyes focused on them completely and started appraising their forms. The one who had spoken wore trousers of such finery as if it were a nobleman, and yet to his senses he knew this one was a girl. And the other elf who wore clothes that looked rather whorish, as if it were made to seduce a man, was undoubtedly a male. Was it some sort of jest, or was there another reason for their peculiar choice of clothes?

He spoke in a louder voice, "Do forgive me for not greeting you properly. I am the ruler of this land, Decem Hougen. Ah, you need not introduce yourself. It is clear to my eyes that you are indeed my grandchildren."

Yes, his earlier confusion about their provenance was cleared up by their clear resistance against his power. They did share his blood, but for some reason these two had been born not from any woman he had bred in recent memory. It was very farfetched for them to have been spawned from the cunt of some dark elf in the far distant past, for his blood would surely have been diluted by the passage of time. If these two had been elderly, then perhaps…

No, the better conclusion was that these two were only separated from him by at least a generation; so calling them his grandchildren seemed the wisest assumption. He didn't know who it had been and he honestly did not care in the least. It only made him smug and satisfied to see that something had been salvaged from all the pathetic failures that had been begotten from him. That they could resist his spells meant that they were powerful, and their youth would indicate they would become more powerful still. Surely in time, he was sure they would grow into the sort of existences that would be his pride and joy.

"Grandchil…" the girl blinked. Her eyes widened, as if she was realizing something. She glanced at the other one. "… Hey, you don't mean that you're related to Bukubukuchagama-sama?"

He felt some sort of pressure come over his body, as if he had suddenly scaled a high mountain. He quickly looked around, to ascertain if something was happening. But the effect quickly passed, like it was his imagination. He frowned, sure that it wasn't his imagination. Perhaps it was the effect of a spell done by those humans outside.

"I am unfamiliar with the name," he said. No doubt they were referring to either of their parents, whom he had sired. As he had no need to recollect the names of children who were deemed subpar, it was no wonder he did not recognize the name they had proposed.

The twins frowned, as if they were angry at him for some reason. "… Never mind that then," the girl said. "So who are you?"

He scoffed, incredulous that these two seemed stupid. Did they not hear his introduction earlier? Ah, but they were children. He could afford to be magnanimous, even at a moment like this.

"You may be forgiven for such lapse, just this once. It is clear that your upbringing has not been as ideal as can be expected." Dark elves, to his knowledge, were decidedly uncultured savages. It brought to mind uncouth females with strange customs. Perhaps that was why he hadn't had a female of their kind brought to him to breed. It felt like a waste to have his blood pass through one, but as proven by these two, sometimes unexpected things can emerge from unremarkable circumstances. "As I said, I am Decem Hougen, little ones. I am the ruler of this kingdom, if you must know. King over all I survey, and more. Normally I would expect you to bow at this point, but as you are still uneducated in such matters I shall let such disrespect pass, for now."

He would need to take them in hand as soon as possible. Basic manners would do, for a start. He didn't know how they had been raised by whoever had sired them, but it was clearly a catastrophic failure, judging by how these ones were acting. Then he scrutinized the male for a few more seconds.

"And you, the silent one. Is it a tradition of the dark elves to wear such… clothing? To think that the dark elves would possess such strange practices. Well, no matter. From this moment on, such behavior must stop. As your greater sire, it is my duty to see that you are reared to become the best expression of my exalted lineage."

And then there came a voice from the side, which bit into him like a stray arrow unseen and unexpected: "Are you that blind, you miserable fop? How could you even think that your pathetic seed could give rise to such glorious individuals?"

Who? His senses were quickly able to pick up the appearance of another intruder, just to the right of him—at a place where he had not sensed any before. He was instantly on high alert, obeying the instinct of his body. How could he have missed them? An invisibility spell perhaps? A spell his own senses had not picked up?

The voice belonged to a woman, someone who looked to be an elf whose youth had long since flowered, unlike the dark elves. He quickly noted the intruder's heterochromatic eyes, much like the twins. There was something familiar to its features, as if she was someone he had seen before, though he ultimately couldn't really place it. There was some sort of weapon on its back, a large, ugly-looking thing that he knew would not have come from his vault. Attached to its belt was another weapon, a sheathed blade.

For a brief miniscule moment, he paused to consider what the newcomer had said. Was it possible that the twins had not come from him at all? Then he quickly dismissed such paltry assertions. Their power was evident enough of their provenance. What sort of miracle could there have been to create such fine creatures, if they had not originated from his seed? Not even the dragons could boast of such a feat, and if those Lords were connected to the twins he would have surely detected their hand by now.

"… For now, I shall put aside the reason for your presence here, intruder. But answer me this, and do not trifle with your better: are you my get?"

"Hmph." The woman made such an ugly-sounding snort. "What sort of question is that to ask? Well, it doesn't matter if that's true or not. I'm here for one thing, and one thing only." She took the ugly scythe from her back and planted its tip on the ground, making a loud, awful thunk echo in the chamber. Its wicked, crescent-shaped edge gleamed like moonlight on the surface of the Lake outside. His eyes went to the large sword sheathed at its side; marking that the blade might be its backup weapon.

He sized up the intruder. Did this woman seek to fight him? No, definitely not. No fool who had heard of Decem Hougen would dare to fight him. It had taken these humans entire lifetimes to even attempt to assault him here in this land; and it had only been the incompetence of his spawn that had allowed them to come so far. Even the Dragon-Lords would hesitate to strike at him, knowing full well the near god-like power he possessed.

So what other reason could there be for her presence here? Ah, but of course! This woman seemed to be threatening him, but the actual truth was that she was here to escort him. She and the twins had come here, to this place specifically, to bring the great Elf King out to safety, after hearing that the Slaine Theocracy was already at the door. Their ungracious attitudes left a lot to be desired, naturally, but their hearts seemed to be in the right place.

"Um… is it really okay for you to be dawdling around here?" said the male who was wearing female clothes. "Do you not know about the siege outside? If you really are the King of this place, should you not take steps to protect it? Your people are being slaughtered by those humans."

"Yeah, go tell him!" the girl said. "That's not how a King's supposed to act."

He scoffed. "On the contrary, little ones, that is how a King must be. Though I do not believe you shall become sovereigns of your own demesne any time soon, it might yet be important for you to know such things." Though the idea of his children ruling kingdoms of their own was not that farfetched.

"To start, everyone in this Kingdom has place and role to fulfill. It is the King's duty to rule, and it is the people's privilege to share in the glory of that rule. And there are many ways to accomplish this. But chiefly, it is the most righteous duty for each citizen here to give their all for their King—yes even their lives if needed. A King is an ideal that must be preserved, venerated, indeed, even worshipped. Should a Kingdom fail, then it is no fault of the King, but of its people, who ended up so weak that they cannot even support this ideal that they have presumed to raise up. Such are the intricacies of rule and rulership which even I must adhere to. You will all learn this, in time." He did not need to expound that his people especially had the duty to bear his children, to perpetuate his exalted blood, but it would have made the speech longer, and he had no time.

Thankfully, the two dark elves seemed to have taken his words to heart, for they nodded to each other to affirm the truth of his words. Only the one holding the scythe said nothing, and only stared blankly at him, doubtless a brute who could not comprehend the higher thinking required of monarchs.

"You may think that this Kingdom has fallen and that is true. It would be folly to deny it." Though his pride would be rankled, his attitude was that of "well, it can't be helped", worthy wisdom he had inherited from his sire. The Kingdom had outlived its usefulness, and its people no longer had the necessary will to fight for its King. "It is true that I would be able to go out there and annihilate the attacking humans, but that would mean I myself had needed to lift a finger. And as I've already said, that is not the King's role. It would be like a gross violation, wouldn't you say?" The children nodded to that. "Now then, let us move on to more important matters. You shall come with me. We shall be leaving this place soon."

"Come with you?" the dark elf girl asked. "Where?"

"Somewhere far away. I have not really decided just yet. Somewhere safe, I hope. Do not worry for yourselves, my strength shall suffice to safeguard us all for the moment." In time he hoped these two would be able to acquit themselves admirably as true warriors, far better than his disappointing spawn who had failed this particular Kingdom. He glanced towards the scythe-wielder. "You are welcome to join me, of course. Though I suppose it does not need to be said that you will be faithful to your king. And to demonstrate your faith in a manner most suitable."

The warrior's face twisted, as if she had bit into something unpleasant.

"Eh~ But you're saying you don't even have a solid plan, King Elf? That's rather sloppy don't you think?" the dark elf girl said. "And what are we going to do if we even follow you?"

Well, ideally the girl would start by being bred by him to birth more of his blood. But upon looking at her clearly immature body, it was apparent that that prospect was yet impossible. A child that had not yet flowered had no use for him as a tool for breeding. Knowing how long it take for elves like him to grow, he dreaded having to wait at all.

That was why it was imperative that this warrior joined them. He flashed a brilliant smile at the scythe-wielder, and said, "Rejoice then, woman. You shall be the first to receive mine kingly favor. I hope you shall do your best to conceive worthy children, and raise them to greatness."

For a moment the others just stared in silence. Then the girl scratched her head. "Wha-? What are you even talking about, King elf?"

The woman, in the meantime, bared her teeth with a snarl. "Like hell—"

He raised his brows at this overtly hostile behavior, wondering why it looked like the woman was about to strike him. Ah, but that was a foolish possibility. "I realize that your mind may not be too sophisticated to comprehend the intricacies of greater thought, so let me inform you in words you will understand. You should feel honored and happy that you would bed such a person like myself. To be able to carry my children is the greatest happiness that you could ever hope for." He looked towards the cross-dressing male. "Ah, but it is not like you're going to be left doing nothing. You shall assist me in accelerating the process of creating worthy children. It is an endeavor that shall consume our respective times, so you better make sure to be doing your best."

The boy only looked perplexed, as if did not exactly know how to respond. The girl stirred, and made sure to lift the head of the scythe towards him. "You're delusional if you think you can make us do anything," she said. "No, to even think of making me do anything, hah! What a damned joke."

Now it was his turn to want to scratch his head. Why the unusual hostility?

"Is there something wrong?" he asked the woman. "Is it your wish to fight me on this matter perhaps? For you will not have a choice in this. You will either give yourself to me freely, or be chained and taken as it pleases me; it matters not to me. You may think yourself strong, and indeed I can acknowledge the strength I can see in you. But I can assure you that my power is far stronger than you can even comprehend."

The woman snorts, as if he had said something amusing, which made him frown. Normally, he would have already struck the impudent woman for her cheek, but time was already being wasted. Since she hadn't already struck, he was going to assume she was just posturing for the sake of her image, another pointless thing for a woman to do, but he wouldn't worry about that.

He stepped forward towards the dark elf girl. "Come along then. It shall be a long time for you to grow up to become a fruitful maiden, but I can abide for a few decades. The warrior will do as a mother while we await your growth to adulthood little one."

Yet just as he was about to seize the girl's hand, he felt something sharp and painful slam into his face from the front. It had happened in the space of under a second—one moment he had been looking at the girl, and in the next, he was rolling on the floor, the stars blooming in his sight, and a searing pain in his gut that lingered.

What is that taste? he wondered to himself. It is a familiar thing, one that I have not sensed in a long time.

He was quick on his feet, for though the blow had been strong, he was no mere mortal to be struck aside. He blinked and looked at where he had been, knowing that something or someone had been responsible for striking him. It was then that he noticed the fluid dripping onto his lips, which made him pause.

Slowly, with shaking hands, he daubed his fingers onto that fluid, and looked down to see the crimson splotches against the skin. Blood. So that was the taste, he thought.

At first, he thought that the girl had struck him, for he had been knocked backward by the sheer force of the blow. Yet what greeted him was another newcomer, a stranger that had appeared as if by magic in this place. Another one his senses had failed to pick up on, and the thing that had assuredly given up its lease on life by daring to strike him.

"What is the meaning of this?" he snarled, wiping the blood dripping from his nose. His body would regenerate the wound quickly, as it always did. He saw that this newcomer was another dark elf, tall, its features vaguely slim and wiry, like a bureaucrat instead of warrior. Its eyes gleamed red, thankfully not heterochromatic like the twins, but their color made him tense all the same. If this was the one who had struck him with such an honorless blow without him ever anticipating thus, then it was someone he could not just ignore. It probably had skills geared towards infiltration. Like a spy.

Or an assassin.

The dark elf said nothing to his demand, and instead looked towards the scythe-wielding warrior. "Sorry about that. I knew I said the plan was for me to appear later, but I just couldn't resist hitting his damned face."

"His face does have that effect on people," said the woman, with a snort.

So this one was definitely a male. He couldn't be sure beneath the armor it wore, but now he was certain. And now he was even more certain that this one was where he would direct his anger.

No, anger would not be the most appropriate emotion.

This was rage. A violent, all-consuming rage now gripped Decem Hougen.

It has been a long time since he has felt pain, nor been made to bleed. It was not that his position as King made it impossible, it was that he himself was impervious to such things, from the day he was born. Very rarely had he ever shed blood, and those occasions had been worthy things, battles he still recalled for the glory he had gained in victory.

He announced, his voice booming into the room. "You did well with that cowardly strike. I do not know how you managed it, but you must be some sort of assassin or spy, or rat that has only been fortunate to evade my notice. But know that you have awoken the fury within me. And as you are neither a fair woman to be bred nor a young male from my line, then it is very unfortunate for you that you shall die here an ignoble death!"

Then he noticed that the male was somehow not paying attention to him, and was still talking to the two children and the warrior. His eyes narrowed, as his rage focused into a fine point. He would not splutter and lose his righteous demeanor. That was beneath his dignity as a royal. Nor would he fall for such a cheap attempt at trickery.

"You seem to be laboring under a misapprehension, fool," Decem snarled. "You certainly were able to draw blood with that strike. But that is all. Now you shall learn the ugly truth: of the vast gulf of distance between me and you. In your last fleeting moments you shall rejoice in being enlightened by one as great as I, and curse your impudence in striking your betters."

After that he braced, ready to call upon his magic for a swift, brutalizing strike. He was not some honor-bound fool who would wait to face his enemy head-on. So the rat would continue ignoring him, would he? Well, that would be to his peril.

As he raised his arm, the male finally turned to face him. He cocked his head, his expression puzzled. "My apologies, but are you sure you should be talking so freely to me like that? I'm just here to watch; but you've lost sight of your enemy entirely."

At that, he quickly saw that the woman was no longer there. And his instincts, long since dulled, flared to life as he quick-casted a barrier upon himself—just as the scythe swung for his neck.

There was a loud, crunching noise as he felt something impact against the barrier. What surprised him was not the fact that his senses had failed to register an attack until the very last moment. He had the capability of sensing the minute vibrations of creatures moving over the earth, but this did not apply if it the enemy had jumped at him and moved through the air, like this one had.

No, it was the fact that despite the strength of his barrier, which he had honed over the long centuries of his life; the scythe's blade was as a mole burrowing into the ground. He could feel the buckling pressure from the barrier, as if it was about to break. Then, before it could be dispelled completely, the pressure eased, and he felt the woman jump back a few yards.

"—!"

"Kuh—!" He turned around and drew himself up, glaring hatefully at the warrior that had dared to strike at him. Why had it not waited docilely for him to mount her and grant her a child? Was she really so delusional to think she could challenge him?

He took a few steps back, to ensure he could keep the three dark elves and the warrior in his sight at all times. He would no longer be so careless as to keep focused on one particular creature. There was no doubt that these were somehow powerful existences, and that he must not slip up and be careless with facing them.

Decem rubbed his chin, appraising the warrior with half an eye. "It seems you are more powerful than you look. What a brute, to strike at one who is above many." He pointed at her. "And why did you not follow through? Mercy? Or was your strength, ultimately, not enough?" He scoffed. "Well, it matters not to me. You had your chance to strike, and you could not even finish it. You will not be getting another such opportunity."

He clenched his fist.

"When I am done, you will beg for my mercy instead." Then he snapped his fingers, as he cast the magic that summoned a titan.

"Come forth, Behemot!"

There was packed earth covering the floor beneath their feet. It was a fairly innocuous thing, easily missed, and treated as if it were truly part of the structure itself. But for Decem this unusual choice of décor hid within it a great power, one which he was now to summon once more to his aid.

The summoning magic used the soil itself as a catalyst for its work. The ground surged and moved like the waves on a tumultuous sea, before one single dune rose above the rest, growing by the second. First it was a mound, then a hill, then a mountain. It towered over all of them for the briefest of moments, before collapsing once more unto itself. The spell, having supped its fill from his magic, now forged something from within this mass of earth. A body then formed, vaguely humanoid, composed of the very materials that had been used to summon its form. It was the height of a troll and no less formidable than those paltry beings, its body like an amalgamation of various large and deadly boulders smashed together to make the facsimile of a brutish-looking creature.

This was Behemot, his guardian, an earth elemental of no middling power. It answered its call with an unearthly bellow that only he could hear, as if in acknowledgement of his might. That such a powerful creature, born from the primordial strength of nature itself, a brutish entity which could devastate a castle wall all by itself, could be bound to his will was testament to his control over magic. It was something that no human touting themselves "heroes" could ever hope to replicate.

If there was one fault he could see in his summoned creature, it was the fact that every time he dismissed it, its entire being turned to literal dust. When it was summoned again, there would be no trace left of its last battle: no bits and pieces of blood and offal coating its form, a reminder of all the lives it had annihilated with ease. It would have made for a fine look of intimidation, for Decem's foes to see all the battle damage it had endured over time still embedded in its body; like it was an old, dusty battlefield given form and life. Perhaps then fewer would dare challenge him. He had heard of the distant Katze Plains, and if there was anything that truly embodied that dismal-seeming battlefield, where mortal blood and iron riddled the land, it was Behemot.

Yet his Behemot was intimidating all on its own. Its very presence felt gigantic, even when set against his form. He recalled the saying, "be not deceived by the size of the magic caster, but of the mountain he calls" and it certainly fit himself and Behemot. In its present form, the elemental practically dwarfed everything else in the room, making the chamber feel cramped in mere moments.

At this point, it was usually the time for his fool opponents to start begging for their lives. Behemot by himself exuded an aura that was overpowering for mere mortals, as if they were now standing in the presence of something so utterly primal and incomprehensible. In the face of such wondrous potential for destruction, he could but offer a fond smile, like one regarding their most precious pet.

And yet, when his gaze swept upon the intruders once more, he saw that they did not even display the proper respect for his Behemot. Where they should be on their knees, begging for his forgiveness, these rats didn't seem to care. Did they not recognize that death had come to take them unto its tender bosom? Were they blind to the thought that within the next minute, Behemot would grind them to pasty bits of meat beneath its weight?

Especially that dark elf male, that impudent one who ould be the first to die. But that one only stared up at his Behemot with a raised brow, like some merchant appraising a potential sale at market.

"Witness now the proof of the gulf that lies between me and all else in existence," Decem pronounced. "If you wish to grovel, then now is the perfect time before you are crushed underfoot."

The dark elf male said something to the warrior under his breath, before looking back at him. "Your summon is indeed an interesting one, and I would've liked to test its strengths personally. However, I've given my word, and so this one shall be your opponent. If you beat her, somehow, then I'll face you."

"Hah!" He knew it; the male was scared. "I wonder how long your bravado will last when I give Behemot the signal. Well, whether I crush you now or later does not matter to me. By all means, give me a show. Perhaps I shall make your death a swift one instead of dragging it out."

The dark elf said nothing to that, and only stepped back, like he was giving up the stage for the scythe-wielding warrior next to him. Recognizing the woman's stance as that which would immediately strike, he pointed and willed his summon forward. "It is a shame to ruin a striking face such as yours, but I have healing power to spare. And if you die—well, it is even more of a shame. But such is the price for defying me." And if she was weak enough to be pulverized by Behemot, then she wasn't anything special, just chattel unworthy of his seed. "Behemot!"

The creature made no sound but for the scream in his mind. And yet its noise was as loud as a thunderclap as it surged forward at a speed impossible for its bulk. Pushing the weight of its entire primal bulk into its first strike, the summon slammed one of its fists down onto the scythe-wielding warrior, smashing her form into an ugly paste.

"A pity," he murmured, as the dust filled the room. He was not one to crush pretty flowers underfoot in a petty pique. He preferred to savor them instead, but this one had to be obstinate in its impudence towards him. Well, no matter. He would move on to crushing the male, and then subdue his children. They were the real prize.

Yet just as he was about to give Behemot orders, there was a loud, crunching groan, like boulders running downhill. He blinked, and blinked again.

"Impossible…"

Something was driving Behemot's fist back, and that something was its very target he had ordered crushed. Somehow, it hadn't been turned into a pulp. Somehow it had met a fist that had bowled over entire armies on its own, bearing its full force, and had even sufficed to push Behemot back.

Impossible. Had he weakened Behemot through a faulty summoning somehow? But no, that would imply he'd made a mistake! How can this be? No other existence in the world could defy his summon, unless they were like the dragon-lords themselves!

"Fuh…" said the woman, who looked effortless in holding back Behemot's fist. In likeness she was as an ant carrying something twenty-times its size. "I was half-expecting it already, but it seems to be true, huh? Looks like I did get stronger, Ainz-sama."

Ainz-sama? What was that? His body had subconsciously tensed up, as if sensing that something was now amiss. It was like he was finally recognizing that something strange was afoot; that this situation in front of him was far from the normal he had expected. His mind could not comprehend; the sight was incompatible to every expectation he'd had.

Could this one really be strong enough to actually challenge him?

Would he actually need to start unleashing his powers just to secure a victory?

And there were those other unknowns as well. He still needed to defeat the dark elf male, who had not moved at all; and subdue those children as well. The latter two might not be hostile yet, but there was a chance they might be. If their power would be the same as the woman's then he'd need to conserve his own strength.

Decem clenched his fists. This was no time to dawdle. Fortunately, it was not like this was the upper limit of Behemot's strength.

As he began casting, Behemot drew back from the woman, and went into a defensive posture. The woman advanced, swinging her weapons in a lively, deadly dance. The fight then began in earnest.

Spells to infuse strength, speed, thought, wisdom, charisma. Enchantments to grant bonuses to verve, to repel mundane attacks, to negate instant death. Wards against all forms of elemental assault, to ground most forms of offensive spells, to confound the strikes of the weak-minded. It was a whole host of spells, fired one after another, their multitude sufficient to drain an ordinary magic caster dry. Yet everything was cheaper for him, as he was only using such spells to target his Behemot, and thus he still retained a vast reservoir of energy for his own use.

While he did so, Behemot and his enemy squared off against each other, with the smaller elf darting smoothly to and fro and generally only avoiding his summon's attacks. Decem couldn't resist looking on that sight smugly. It seemed like the woman stopping Behemot's first attack had only been a one-time thing. Or perhaps she sensed that he had now augmented Behemot to a far greater level than his usual? Either way, it was now a question of her endurance matching up against the tireless summon.

Well, if only Behemot and the woman were fighting alone, that was.

Decem stretched his hand outward, and erected an inviolable barrier around his person. While he could still see the dark elf male and the children were standing far back and remained firmly in his line of sight, there was still every chance they could attempt a flanking assault on him. And while to him it seemed a waste to expend himself against these fools, it was better than being laid low by a cowardly, but fatal strike.

And thus, if his Behemot still needed help to achieve a hit against the agile rat, then he would give him the opportunity. He gathered his energy and cast another summoning spell.

Beings of nature were his to command, a boon he had received long ago. That was why he felt quite at home here in the middle of the great forest, where the natural world could bend quite easily to his will.

A long time ago, Behemot had been his trump card. It was only after exhausting his other options that he summoned his greatest elemental to fight. Yet when he grew older things were quite literally reversed. He brought Behemot out first so he would strike down his enemies swiftly, and he seldom used his other options at all.

Luckily such tactics were not easy to forget. At his command, smaller creatures born of nature emerged from the earth to aid Behemot. They were small soldiers, little more than lumps of clay and soil given shape and sentience. He would never expect them to accomplish anything of worth. Yet now, they would suffice as distraction, to force the enemy to divide her attention. For the little soldiers had a trick of their own—should they succeed in hitting their targets, their malice would flare; and the mud from which they were formed would cling to their bodies with the stubbornness of an ox. Allow enough of them to do their work and it would be like their bodies were swimming through literal mud. Inconveniently slowed, and easier for Behemot to squash.

That was not enough. He would summon more, an army to harry his enemy. Small creatures of vine and leaf emerged from the bountiful earth around him. They bounded forward like hounds eager for the hunt. They were weak, but they were numerous, and would serve as a distraction. At his command, they scaled the back of Behemot's body, to fall upon the woman from above in a murderous, chittering.

As if in response to that, the woman started spinning her scythe in front of her as if it was a wheel. The whirling epicenter of deadly steel smashed mud and severed leaves and vines, though he noted that she did not dare use it against Behemot's mighty fists.

After unleashing another wave of leaf-men, he took a weapon from behind him: a hunting bow that had been gifted to a child that had disappointed him. It had been too weak to survive; and even worse than that, it could not even unlock the weapon's true potential.

By simply pulling on the string once, one could already fire streams of arrows that could bite into flesh deeper than a dragon's tooth. That only he could somehow use this item's unique functionality boggled the mind, but he supposed that was just the limit of his useless children. Decem took aim and started firing at the woman, "threading the needle" through the open spaces where Behemot's body was not blocking to strike with unerring accuracy at the warrior's form.

He sank into the heat of battle, and tried not to lose himself to the thrill of it. He recognized that the passion that warriors must wear should not be glorified, especially if it might lead to an especially inglorious end. This was why he had chosen the bow instead of a weapon that would make him charge into melee. Though he could wield weapons of all types well, he was not a master at any one art, and he recognized the woman's skill at least.

And yet somehow as the battle wore on—

That though he drew forth a veritable army of creatures from the mud, that though he unleashed devastating hails of arrows, and though Behemot was commanded to kill—

The woman was still standing!

He exhaled, as he once more felt that which he thought to have forgotten in his long-distant youth. An exhaustion of the body that should never have happened. For it would imply that he was about to reach the limits of his physical form. And from there would naturally flow the conclusion, this treacherous thought that perhaps—

-Perhaps this enemy was stronger than him.

And if that was the case, then perhaps the best option for him now would be to flee?

He could still marshal enough power for certain spells that could shatter a city all by itself. It was dangerous for him to use so near his treasury, but it was sure to be effective on these creatures. Perhaps he could unleash that, abduct the children, then teleport to safety. Though he would forsake this battle as something he had "lost", he would still be able to continue on living as he pleased.

He gritted his teeth. "No, no. no." The pride of he whose blood flowed with divine power would never permit him to lose.

"No!"

There was still that damned dark elf male. He didn't know how powerful that one was. Even if his spell managed to defeat the woman in front of him, would that still be able to fend that one off?

He glanced at his summon's craggy back. It was definitely an option to just send Behemot over to occupy the man perhaps. But then again, his spell might also damage Behemot to the point that it wouldn't even be as effective anymore.

Just as he was about to make a decision, there came a voice that he heard clearly with his enhanced hearing.

"I think we've seen enough," said the dark elf male, addressing the woman. "It's already been ten minutes. This is certainly the extent of his abilities. Ah, but he might have a trump card hidden or two, but I don't expect it to be anything extraordinary. It's your call, but make it quick."

The woman chuckled. "Very well. I will admit that you're right: this is all he can do. And to think I assumed he would actually be a challenge." She hefted her scythe and laid it over her shoulder. "But it's actually been pretty damned boring."

Decem exhaled a breath. No doubt this was some sort of trick or bluff to get him to lower his guard. So far, the woman had not been able to get past Behemot to strike at him, nor less damage Behemot with anything less than token strikes. Even if Behemot could also not manage to land a decisive strike, it was still very telling that for now: their respective powers seemed equal, and they were at an impasse.

He focused himself, and drew the energy forth from his body one more time. A spell on his right hand, and a spell on his right. Two powerful invocations, done one at a time, to spell a definite defeat for the creature that had so far dared to defy him.

And before the other side could make some form of reaction, he raised his hands to strike.

But the woman was no longer there. For a brief second, he blinked, bewildered, wondering what had happened. Then he felt a pain in his gut, as the woman appeared right in front of him.

"Guhah!"

The pain. The pain! The Pain!

Before he could comprehend the surge of agony that radiated from his belly, or the taste of copper in his lips, he felt his world tumble and twist. His body had been tossed to the ground like a limp puppet with its strings cut. Only an act of supreme resilience caused him to slam his hand on the ground to right himself.

But he'd erected his barrier. The woman should have been repelled by the strength of his inviolate barrier; or at least her strike should have been resisted—enough for him to draw back. And yet it seemed the barrier had been overcome? Preposterous!

Kneeling on the floor, he glared hatefully at his enemy, who had somehow bypassed Behemot entirely to strike at him. His first spell had fizzled from losing concentration. But he still had the second. Uttering a cry through bloodstained lips, he slammed his other hand to the ground and activated the spell that had been stored there, ready to be cast, along with a command to his summon, one that brooked no defiance.

"Behemot! Kill her dead!"

His spell triggered first. It was a wave of energy encapsulated within words of power. Words of binding, to hold fast around his enemy's body like a god's invisible fist; hardier than earth, deeper than water, fiercer than flame and stronger than the winds itself. In effect, it could bind even a dragon-lord for a few seconds of the enchantment's duration; and in this case it would allow his Behemot to deal the finishing blow while the warrior could not move.

Behemot was already attacking before his spell could even finish, the fist already bearing down with the force of an avalanche. Unable to move even her limbs, she would be hard-pressed to defend against the attack. And if she had any spells to defend, she would need to be able to cast them just like him; and that was a sure impossibility.

CRUNCH!

The sound of a bones and sinew being pulverized to a literal pulp was rather satisfying to hear, even if he personally disliked it. It sounded literally like boulders crashing into each other in a mountainside, and overwhelming some poor creature beneath their thunderous descent. But that was perhaps reasonable given Behemot's personality.

Though he wondered why the crunching sound was still going. It was like Behemot was grinding its fist even further, though that didn't make sense. Its fist was firmly embedded into the floor. So where was the sound coming from?

There was another loud crunch, which accompanied Behemot's fist shattering into many rocky pieces. And standing in the middle was the woman, whose form seemed completely fine and pristine, as if she hadn't just gotten a whole boulder to the face.

And she was still moving, as if his spell had failed to take hold of her body.

She slammed the scythe to the ground, then placed her hand on the hilt of the sword attached to her belt. In one, smooth motion, one which Decem could hardly comprehend, she unsheathed the sword and made a swinging motion, like it was slashing something in the air.

In the infinitesimal moment that followed, Decem thought that the slash was an elegant-looking motion, as if she had been tracing something.

And then, that beautiful picture shattered, like the moon's reflection on the surface of the Crescent Lake.

As too, did Behemot's body.

A large wound had slashed across its form, neatly bisecting it into its top and bottom. Such a slash could only have come from a giant's hand, and yet it had undeniably come from the blade that the woman had unsheathed.

Much as he believed that nothing had happened, that Behemot would be alright, he could not deny the feeling in his bones. The sensation that had once linked his soul to his summon had been abruptly terminated—and that could only have come from its sudden death. The damned warrior's attack had cut neatly into its very core, destroying it without even needing to demolish the rest of its body in a long battle of attrition.

As he watched the crumbling form of his most powerful summon, the only thoughts in his frozen mind was the absurdity of this situation; and the realization that the woman in front of him would actually be stronger than even himself. Abhorrent as it was to admit, the truth of the matter was laid bare.

Not once had Behemot been defeated.

And not once had it been killed in one hit.

The woman turned to face him, with a look in her eyes that was cold and savage, promising death to all she surveyed. It reminded him of himself, in a way.

If he was a warrior, it was not like he had lost his weapon or his armor, but that he was unable to use his hands entirely. And his enemy still had a weapon to use, and arms that could yet wield them.

Thus, there was only one conclusion.

He could not win.

Without even needing to think, he dashed towards the dark elf children, with two spells already primed in his hands. If this foe could not be defeated, then he would need to escape, and therefore bring the children with him. He would overpower the dark elf male with magic, and use a binding spell to incapacitate the dark elf children. Then, he would teleport away, to a location only he knew, where no one else was sure to follow.

He heard the woman say something behind his back, but he didn't care for that. It was likely surprised at his action, as if it had not expected the Elf King to bolt and flee.

When he was sufficiently close to his targets, he immediately flung his spells towards them. Red, thorny vines emerged from the ground to wrap themselves firmly around the twins, the thorns pricking their skin to subdue them in a soporific haze.

With the children secured, he blasted the male with the strongest destructive spell in his recollection. It had the power to potentially damage Behemot himself, if it ended up being turned against him for whatever reason. He didn't hope to damage the elf with it, but there might be enough force to distract it long enough for Decem to escape.

*CRASH!*

The impact sent the dark elf's body flying, like a leaf being blown away by the wind. Satisfied with his handiwork, he turned away. ready to abscond with the captured children.

However, even that hopeful image was shattered when he turned back to look at the children.

The vines had literally withered in their presence, as if the two were small suns that burned everything around them.

And then when he looked back at the dark elf male, what he thought was a body slamming backward had been just an illusion in his head. The male still stood in the middle of devastation, a clear gouge on the ground around him. However, there were no signs on his person that anything had happened. It was as if his most powerful spell had missed him entirely.

"Ahhh… Aaahhh…"

He let out a gasp of fear as the world came crashing down all around him. He fell to his knees, his bone-deep exhaustion finally catching up to his body.

Footsteps came from behind him. Then came a whisper from the woman, and he could hear the smug, satisfied tone from her voice alone, "I was trying to catch your attention but you were already running like a rat. You weren't supposed to try your hand at them. For when you see me as a power you cannot overcome—these three are powers on a level your mind will not comprehend, Elf King. Ah, but perhaps this is a better outcome, eh? Much better for you to realize the futility yourself, so it can sink in all the faster." The voice giggled, like a child that has seen something amusing to break.

"Kuh..!" He had no idea what these monsters wanted with him, but he was not about to stay and find out. He immediately bolted for the concealed stairs that would take him to an emergency exit out of the palace. He no longer cared if he left behind all his precious treasures unguarded in the vault; nor did he even care that he was practically abandoning his people.

Yet just as he was about to reach that opening, he was stopped, so suddenly that it almost looked comical. It was as if he'd slammed into an invisible wall, something that impeded his way forward. He fell hard on his back, the wind knocked right out of his chest. His body felt a peculiar sort of tremors, like the time when he'd first seen the children.

Just as he was about to rise, a large, oversized blade slammed into the ground just in front of his face. He flinched, and froze, his eyes transfixed on the terrified individual reflected on the smooth surface of the blade. He could see now how it could have possibly slicked Behemot in one blow: the edge was as large as his own body!

Then the woman's voice came from above: "I wouldn't try to move just yet, your majesty. Or you might lose your crown as easy as that." Then she laughed, a screeching sound that he made his hair stand on end. "Of course, it's not like you cared for your crown enough, eh? You were all willing to say goodbye to the Kingdom and everything. What a pathetic creature."

As the waves of exhaustion bit into his body, Decem's thoughts lay clouded and unsure. The dried blood in his mouth tasted bitter on his ashen tongue. Just an hour ago he had been busy propagating his line into his women. And now he lay, defeated by an unknown force that had sneaked into his treasury. Why had fate conspired to give him this conclusion?

And where had these powerful creatures even come from? Not just the woman, or the male, but those children too? If he had heard of their presence he would not have been so cavalier with his Kingdom. A wisdom, imparted to him on his youth, recalled to him the necessity of retreating should such individuals manifest themselves.

"For yours is not the only strength in these lands."

He had always dismissed such wisdom, thinking it had only applied to the present dragon-lords, which were factors he could anticipate. They were haughty creatures who preferred to live life in solitude than to meddle with the lesser creatures. And it was well-known that the dragon-lords, thanks to a certain incident in the past, were no longer as united as in the past.

And yet now, the stark reality had come barging into his home, smashing his Behemot to pieces and even drawing his precious blood.

---

Once again, Ainz found himself disappointed by something in this trip. Before it had been the twins being unable to seriously get along with other dark elf children. And now it was to discover that the Elf King, for all the things he had been hearing about the man, didn't seem anything special in the end. In fact, that fight against the Dragon-Lord had been more promising, in terms of facing a creature with strong abilities.

Zesshi had made a fool of him from the start. The large primal elemental he had summoned had not been able to hit her at all, and those lesser summons he had conjured had not even become nuisances she needed to mind. A single sweep of her scythe had been enough to get rid of them. Only the artifact bow the King brought out had piqued his interest, as his appraisal skill had been pinged—indicating it was something from Yggdrasil.

And then after Zesshi had tossed the guy around for a few more minutes, he then did something that puzzled Ainz. He'd cast a spell directly at him and the twins. For doing the latter, Ainz had been prepared to literally tear the flesh from his cooling corpse, but then he saw that it hadn't even affected them. Truthfully, he had resolved to utterly devastate the man for even trying to proposition the twins, two precious beings made by his friends whom he had a duty to protect. That this pervert had done such a vile thing did not sit well with Ainz at all.

And then the elf had struck at him with a spell, which also hadn't worked. The two combined failures managed to soothe his anger, turning it into frank amusement at this thoroughly pathetic display. Was this really the Elf King for which Zesshi had been prepared her whole life? This pathetic thing that couldn't even muster a spell that could damage him? His estimation of the Theocracy, and her mother by extension, went from a low four out of ten to a dismal one. He could almost shake his head at the disappointment.

Presently he addressed Zesshi. "Are you alright?" he asked, watching her expression closely. Her expression was calm, even after she'd so decisively beat down her sire. He had never been worried about her, trusting that she could do things by herself. But he had been ready to intervene at any moment.

She took a breath and chuckled. "I didn't even break a sweat. Like literally." She looked down at her fallen father, and snorted. Ainz saw that she didn't look like someone who was about to execute the Elf King, as if actually doing the killing deed was the farthest thing from her mind.

"You did good in using the blade," he observed, eyeing the Takemikazuchi sword she had drawn during that battle. That she had been able to unleash one of the sword's abilities, the slash beam, pointed to her great proficiency with such items. It was the first time he had personally witnessed a native being able to use a high-level Yggdrasil item, especially one that had been custom-made. He felt nostalgic seeing his guildmate's weapon in use, and he was pleased that its "debut" had been as effective as it should be.

Zesshi continued, "… It would be easy enough to admit that I'm disappointed that it was all so easy. That he was actually so damned weak…" She snorted. "But the truth is, I already knew I was going to beat my old man right from the start."

At that, the Elf King seemed to react to her word, which made him squirm. But Zesshi slammed her foot down on the other side of his face, causing a crater to splinter outward. After that, the elf just lay there stiffly.

After flashing a look of contempt down towards her sire, she sighed and turned towards Ainz. "But I am glad you are here, my lord. Thank you for sharing this moment with me."

He waved in dismissal. "Well, like I said, I wasn't really interested in him, only in what he possessed. It was just a good… opportunity, so why not?" He smiled, and also looked at the elf as if he was just an insignificant mob that did not even need to be fought. So much for the so-called Elf King.

There came a booming sound which shook the walls of the chamber. "… The Theocracy forces are bound to be coming in here soon," Zesshi said, with eyes narrowed. She looked down at her sire. "What shall we do about him, Ainz-sama?"

At that, Ainz went deep in thought. It would have been easy enough to tell Zesshi to get it over with and just kill him, to fulfill her revenge. With his death, things would be simple, for he was sure that there would be no people who would actually miss him, and under the cover of the siege no one would know he had been killed by Nazarick.

They could also try leaving him alive, where the Theocracy would find him. It was the riskier option, as he might be able to leak information about Nazarick to his captors. Or he might even escape their grasp, and start plotting revenge. There would need to be safeguards placed around him, or Ainz would need to use a mind-wipe, both costly and time-consuming affairs; but the upside would be that the elf king would get his just deserts. The Theocracy would be extra-zealous in persecuting him, perhaps even using his body for their own twisted purposes. Such a fate would only be appropriate for the person who caused his Zesshi so much grief.

The again, there was another possibility. He could spare the Elf King, while claiming him for Nazarick instead. The Elf King would disappear here completely from history, with no one learning at all where he had gone. A mystery whose answer only he would know.

Ainz had to admit that he did merit a closer study, as he obviously possessed skills and spells equal to a level 70 player from Yggdrasil. As such, he did seem similar to Zesshi and the other "Godkin", who were also able to reach that particular high level. The Elf King would then be able to provide Ainz with another clue regarding the mystery of the Players in this world.

"Yes, the people known as the Six Gods, or the Greed Kings, they were definitely…" he muttered, scratching his chin.

The elf stirred. "The Greed Kings? Do you happen to know something about my father?"

"Oi!" Zesshi snapped down at her sire, to stop him from moving. Yet Ainz was more focused on what the elf had just admitted.

"So you are related to those guys then? I see." Then that settled it. He made a satisfied snort and glanced at Zesshi. They shared a moment staring at each other before she nodded.

"I'm fine with it," she said, answering his unspoken question. "At this point, I have no desire to bloody my hands with his blood. Not unless you command it, my lord."

"I see. In that case… Aura? Mare?" he turned to the twins next.

"Yes!" Aura said, as the two of them saluted him.

He pointed to the Elf. "Bring that thing outside, then contact Demiurge so he can transport you back home. Hand him over to Demiurge, and tell him he is to be kept safe and secure as much as possible. He must await my return before doing anything with the prisoner. Any questions?"

"None, Ainz-sama!" Aura said.

"Good, then go," he said, gesturing towards the elf. Mare stomped forward and immediately grabbed the elf by his hair, before dragging him away back towards another chamber, forcing the man to sputter and shriek in outrage. Such cries were silenced by Aura's kicks. When the man continued to squirm and escape Mare's grasp, the boy immediately went and broke his arm.

The man's scream echoed into the room even as they disappeared to another chamber.

He sighed. Well, that had been anticlimactic. Ainz stepped forward to give Zesshi a hug, which she accepted eagerly.

"Did I do good?" Zesshi asked, her voice muffled.

"You did very good," he said, chuckling. With the elf king out of the way, they could finally do what they had actually come here to do: acquire the contents in his Treasury so they would not fall into the hands of the Slaine Theocracy.

"… So why didn't you kill him?" asked Zesshi.

He looked at her in surprise. "Did you want me to? If you want, I can have Aura back here—"

"No, no, I wasn't joking when I said I really didn't care for him," she said. "I just wanted to know your reasoning. We could have left him as a neat little present for the invaders."

He shrugged. He was about to answer with his thoughts when he heard footsteps coming in—in the same direction where the Elf King had come from. Ainz whirled around, and was about to cast an invisibility spell when a figure appeared.

At first glance, it was someone in full plate armor. Then he saw that it was a perfect replica of the woman standing behind him. A second later, he put two and two together; and right on time this figure went down on one knee.

"My lord Ainz."

Zesshi walked out from behind him. She whistled. "That's pretty much accurate, hm." She was staring at her own features, neatly duplicated by the kneeling doppelganger. It was like looking at a mirror, perhaps.

"Report," Ainz said.

With its eyes still averted, it said, "I had been sent by the general to destroy the Elf King, Ainz-sama. As per the prior instructions, I came here as directed, ready to pull back and report to Demiurge should I have engaged with the Elf King."

That was part of Demiurge's plan perhaps. This doppelganger, while wearing Zesshi's form and her equipment, was technically no match for the Elf King, as he saw it. Being a low-level doppelganger, it could not really duplicate actual abilities. He supposed it was a miracle that the Theocracy hadn't asked "Zesshi" to do any such hard missions during the entirety of the real Zesshi's pregnancy.

"The Elf King's been dealt with," Ainz said.

"Very good, Ainz-sama."

Ainz rubbed his chin, as he watched the doppelganger's form for a while. Then he said, "For now, you have a new order. You will assist with claiming the contents of the treasury. At the same time, please relinquish the armaments you're wearing, and assume another form."

"As you wish, Ainz-sama."

He raised a brow at Zesshi, who looked puzzled. "How fast can you change?"

Minutes later they were standing in front of the empty treasury, after the last of the King's treasury had been taken through the Gate. He would have to catalogue its contents later, as some of it on first glance had been objects of some curiosity.

Ainz had changed back to his more comfortable human form. Being Ain had been an experience, and it was a useful disguise to have on hand.

He glanced to the side, to look more closely at the armor Zesshi was wearing. Now that he was looking more closely at it, it was actually clear to his skill that this was an item from Yggdrasil. It was a common item, one that could routinely be found from vendors, so it had lesser prestige and power than those earned through arduous means; but it was a high-level one regardless. It just went to prove the influence of Yggdrasil in this land's history.

"What's wrong, Ainz-sama?" Zesshi asked.

He blinked at her, then smiled. "…I'm just surprised to see you in this armor. After all those months, I've more gotten used to you wearing… well, other things."

She giggled and leaned in close to whisper, despite there being no one else present. "… Or wearing nothing at all?"

They both shared a quiet chuckle. Indeed, the image of an armored Zesshi had faded in Ainz's mind, despite the fact that he had met her wearing these exact armaments.

"At least now we know more about why you're so powerful," Ainz said.

She cocked her head, confused. "Your father," he elaborated. "He admitted to being the son of the 'Greed Kings'."

"…I had not known of that. The Theocracy definitely didn't know," she said, her eyes growing distant.

"With two Player bloodlines flowing through you, no wonder your potential's great." Despite her legacy from the Six Gods being diluted over the years, the addition of the Elf King's side must have affected her significantly. Though that still didn't explain why the Elf King, despite being a direct child as he claimed, was still rather weak. Was it something about children overcoming their parents?

"Huh. Then does that mean, our triplets would be double strong?" Zesshi said aloud.

"Perhaps." Though he thought that viewing his children just for their potential was leading to the same viewpoint as Zesshi's stupid parents.

"But before that, Ainz-sama, my parentage doesn't really explain how I got a lot stronger." She flexed her hands. "I didn't want to say this in front of that bastard, but fighting just now—it was actually a lot easier than I expected. It was like I'd grown… stronger than when I had last fought. Is it just because of the armor you lent me? Or the sword?"

Ainz stroked his chin. "I… might have some ideas. Let us talk about it more in our home. With the successful conclusion of this battle, let us return to our children with heads held high. And on the way, I'll explain about my reasons for sparing the fool." He held up a hand.

With eyes shining, Zesshi took hold of his hand. It was as if the two of them were about to lead off on a dance of some sort.

And yet, just before Ainz could open another Gate, there came a large explosion from behind. Surprised, Ainz whirled to confront this new development, to see a hole had been blasted open in the wall. He panicked, thinking of whether to cast a barrier spell or an invisibility spell.

But it was too late. Humans emerged from within the dusty debris, bearing various weapons. Just as he was about to cast some sort of disabling spell, one of the humans cried out. This one pushed through his comrades to stand before him.

"Stand down!" he shouted. "Stand down! You stand in the presence of a God!"

Wait, that voice…

The armored one who had spoken took off his helmet, causing Ainz to recognize him immediately. It was that same man from before, in the Re-Estize Capital, who had started kneeling to him. Qua-something.

The man looked to the side, and his eyes widened. "Is that… Zesshi?"

The blond looked at his hand, which was obviously clasping Zesshi's. He cursed, but it was too late to let go—and Zesshi was holding on to it firmly.

"So this is why you have never yet responded to our entreaties, oh lord," the blond said. "You have instead chosen to take a more personal hand! Oh, it brings me joy to see this realization! And Zesshi! Has the God already chosen you to be his bride?"

He glanced at Zesshi, whose surprised expression surely mirrored his. Then she blinked and locked eyes with him, before smirking. "Why yes… Yes, of course. I am to be the divine God's first consort. I… Yes, I've agreed to it. Just now."

"Oooohhhh…!"

Ainz wanted to slap himself on the head, that he hadn't immediately just teleported a few seconds earlier. But now they had been caught by the Theocracy, and with this many witnesses, nothing short of a massacre would be enough to erase his presence. And erasing all these minds would be a considerable work. And there were even more humans stepping through the hole. Yep, he could either kill them all now, or resign himself to this.

All he could do was sigh. He didn't want to deal with the Theocracy just yet—but apparently he wasn't going to have a choice in the matter.

---

Chapter commissioned by UltraSpink of Da USA, thank you. A reminder that the story is commissioned.

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