[The northern border of the Argland Council State]
In the northwestern end of the supercontinent, a place that has many heavy blizzards throughout the entire year and very little sunlight lies a fortified city known as Snowthrone, which is the farther that civilization has reached so far in this particular portion of the new world.
Snowthrone was originally a village founded by a tribe of frost trolls, but as the years went by more and more settlers began to arrive from the frozen reaches of the new world's north pole, which is relatively close to the northern portion of the council state.
Despite said northern portion of Argland and the north pole being separated by a wide and unforgiving arctic sea, more and more people of varied races still decided to make the dangerous voyage to Snowthrone.
Under normal circumstances, the natives of the north pole - which was originally called the Crown of the World even before the dragon lords rose to prominence so many millennia ago - would be more than capable of living comfortably there since they were races perfectly adapted for frostfell environments. However, as of the latest centuries - after the Dragon Emperor died, to be precise - the ones who used to dominate the Crown of the World under a tyrannical iron grip rose again, bringing chaos and unrest to the relatively peaceful societies that formed on the vacuum their absence had left behind.
These frigid tyrants, the xixecals, were few but cataclysmically powerful creatures of unfathomable strength and dominion over ice and cold, remnants of a primordial world where the laws of magic had yet to solidify and beings that would never be able to exist now were able to be born back then.
In modern standards, nobody would be blamed for assuming that beings like the xixecals were among the closest thing that the new world had to metaphysical Gods, even when compared to players.
So logic-defying were the xixecals that the Dragon Emperor was unable to destroy them, he could only create a trapping spell custom-made for the frigid monsters; a form of wild magic that entombed them inside prisons of black ice formed by the very same chilly energy that their bodies constantly generate.
And to make sure that the black ice prisons would never break, the Dragon Emperor linked his custom spell to his own living soul, that way the xixecals would never be freed as long as he lived.
Then centuries after that, the aliens from Yggdrasil began to arrive, one thing led to another, and now the Dragon Emperor is dead.
Ironically, since the xixecals were trapped for centuries and only began to make noise in the Crown of the World relatively recently - at least, recent by the standards of thousands upon thousands of years - the Eight Gods of Conquest never really heard of these primordial beings of frost holed up all the way up to the north pole.
During the peak of their power, they did send a few expeditions to the frozen north and south poles, respectively. But the exploring crews never returned.
And by the time that word of the xixecals' rampant destruction reached the supercontinent, the player conquerors had already killed each other and their once mighty empire was fractured into petty states that squabbled for control until they too collapsed. The remains were lesser countries built upon the ashes of what the Eight Gods of Conquest - posthumously called 'Greed Kings' - had left behind, neither of which had the capacity nor desire to do something about the xixecals.
So in the end, the inhabitants of the Crown of the World had to either kneel in submission to their new icy overlords, grow strong enough to oppose them even if they knew it was futile, or escape south into warmer lands that didn't interest them.
Or at least, warmer lands that didn't interest them at first. But as of the last decades, more and more refugees from the north pole keep immigrating to the Argland Council State, each individual refugee speaking about the increasing ferocity and ambition of those icy beings of myth.
And if that wasn't enough, the northern portion of the council state which includes Snowthrone and other nearby settlements has suffered aggressive invasion attempts from other natives of the Crown of the World that became servants of the xixecals, rather than opposing or escaping them.
Both a rapid increase in the mouths they have to feed and the exotic invaders they have to repel have begun to put lots of pressure on the dragon councilors, so much so that they have recently started to obtain manpower and resources from the other countries that the Platinum Dragon Lord rules over. Bar the Remain Principality, for obvious reasons.
Even so, rather than sharing borders, the nations under the dominion of Tsaindorcus are scattered throughout the supercontinent. Moving numerous supplies and individuals from one corner of a continent to another is quite an endeavor even with the aid of magic of all systems, hence why the councilors decided that they shouldn't rely entirely on the aid of other countries, so if they could get what they needed from their own lands, the better.
On this particular day, overseeing the fortified city of Snowthrone was the Wyrm Dragon, Zalazilkalia=Nahaeunt. His head had a massive plate at the forehead and bladelike horns at the chin. A frill ran the length of his neck and he had manta-like wings. Even in the snowy environment he was currently in, he still gave off the scent of sunbaked sand, and his scales glistened like polished brass.
Just the night before, a sneaky band of frost goblins - using their racial bonuses to stealth in icy environments - attempted to infiltrate Snowthrone and open up the gates from the inside. If it weren't for the information they received from recent refugees who gave a detailed list of the tactics used by the servants of the xixecals to the soldiers stationed at the city, then the frost goblins may have succeeded in their plot.
During the rest of the night and up to the morning of this day, the soldiers have been actively looking for any remaining infiltrates and possible raiders outside city gates who may have been waiting for the frost goblins' signal, as well.
- If only I knew whatever magic that deviant uses to alter his own body, I would be able to do more than just command from afar in urban environments like these.
Zalazilkalia was lamenting the fact that - as a dragon - he couldn't really do much to help the soldiers who located and took care of the goblinoid infiltrates the night before since doesn't even fit in the city's streets, let alone the alleys of a settlement built by and for a large-sized race.
The 'deviant' he was thinking of was none other than the Brightness Dragon Lord who was infamous among the members of his own species for being a sick bastard who uses his exotic wild magic to polymorph himself into the physical form of virtually any intelligent race imaginable only to crossbreed with anything that moves. Both Zalazilkalia and his comrade Gessenvult the Obsidian Dragon would give a much better use to that shape-shifting magic which they would use to join their soldiers in all sorts of battlefields of all sizes, rather than just large-scale battles that are fought out in the open.
Still, it's not like they would be able to even use whatever spell that depraved dragon uses even if they knew its workings, seeing how they were dragons who were born after the Eight Gods of Conquest altered the laws of magic of the new world.
"Grand councilor Zalazilkalia, shall I give a report of our progress?"
The dragon's train of thought was interrupted by a local frost troll sergeant who was part of last night's operation and was also in charge of the following search party for any raiding groups that may be around.
"Yes, Gulkahar, go ahead."
Sargeant Gulkahar was roughly eight feet - almost 2.5 meters - tall, his gelid white skin was so translucent that his pale blood could be seen cursing through his veins just below the surface, and he was covered in masterwork remorhaz scale mail.
On his dominant hand, there was a warhammer that would be considered a two-handed weapon in a human's hand, but a troll was perfectly capable of using it with just one hand, and on his other arm there was an equally big ironwood shield, both it and the weapon were likewise made of the same masterwork quality as his scale mail.
"The goblin captives haven't given us a single piece of useful information, just the usual slander and insults. Our best rogues and rangers have recently joined our search party, but no signs of any raiders have been found so far."
"Keep searching for a bit more. Once you cover the entirety of the surrounding area and still find no sign of raider activity, place the search on hold and regroup in Snowthrone's citadel."
"Understood."
The sergeant raised his weapon's hand grip up to his chest - a sign of respect to his superior - and went back to lead the searching party.
- Can't believe how daring they're becoming, these xixecals, or whatever they are.
Xixecals are so unfathomably ancient and were sealed away for such a long time that not even Tsaindorcus has actually seen them. He only knows about them - and other equally powerful primordial beings - in the first place because of the tales his father the Dragon Emperor told him back when the Platinum Dragon Lord was a mere dragonling.
- Perhaps, that weird idea of yours may indeed be needed after all, Tsaindorcus...
[The combat district of Breizen]
- They may be called berserkers, but the precision with which they pluck those feathers, cut that skin, it's on par with real professionals. Quite awesome.
Rhemurus was admiring the berserkers from a safe distance outside their hut.
He didn't actually ask them if he was allowed to get inside their hut to watch them work close up since he believed that they would refuse his request. And it turns out he was right, the berserkers would flatly refuse anyone who tried to meddle with their work.
"You can watch us from afar if you want." Is what he was told, so that's what he's doing.
Roughly two hours or so later the achaierai carcass was already cut into the relevant pieces; the feathers were all neatly stored inside huge bags, the meat was cut into chops and salted before wrapping them up in large leaves, and the individual organs were likewise all prepared except for the liver, which the berserkers decided to cook and eat for lunch since that particular organ always spoils the fastest.
"What will you do with the bones?"
"Oh, we can take care of those the day after this one, right now we will go back to our encampment."
"And the monster pieces, will you leave them there?"
"Yeah, Roga will stay here through the night. He's quite though, and he told us he wants to take a break from the hunts tomorrow."
"I see."
"Hey, Solangus!" Another member of the group stepped into the conversation the player was having with their leader.
"Yes, Selka, what is it?"
"Is that wolf guy going to be following us around all the time?"
- I have a name, you know.
"Uh, he hasn't been bothering us much, I think."
"Is still annoying, having a softskin tailing us around."
"In that case,-" Rhemurus began to speak for himself. "-would you allow me to participate in one of your hunts? I have experience in it, and I will be able to show you that I'm not a softskin."
"I believe it would be alright if you join us in a hunt, Rhemurus." Reaffirmed Solangus to the player. "But as I told you earlier, don't expect to actually make much money if you're with us since the few coins we gain we immediately use to purchase things we may need at the moment."
"Yeah! We hunt for the thrill! Not for mundane slices of shiny metal!"
- Did I do something to offend this girl called Selka? She's quite antagonistic towards me.
"That would be okay, I don't mind not making a profit at all, I just want to hone my abilities."
What he was telling wasn't a lie at all. Since he still had a good amount of days left in the inn he was staying at, he can afford to not make money at least for the time being.
"You will have to wait until tomorrow I'm afraid. After eating the achaierai liver and some of its meat, we will spend the rest of the day doing weapon and armor maintenance."
Of course, not even berserkers could actually spend every single waking moment hunting and killing stuff. Rest is important.
"Can I come back here tomorrow, then?"
"Before tomorrow, actually. We usually begin our hunt a few hours before dawn."
"So before the dawn, got it."
With nothing left to say, Solangus and the rest of the berserkers - except the one called Roga - once again climbed up the city wall, each of them carrying the wrapped-up pieces of meat that they were going to cook for themselves.
- Wait, they told me they will make themselves lunch, and I clearly remember some of Solangus' comrades making food back in the Manthor Hills. So does this mean some of them multi-classed into chef?
This assumption was close, but no. Rather than production job classes from Yggdrasil, roughly half of the berserkers have a job class that didn't exist in the game called [Survivalist] which was a variant of [Ranger] that gave not only the ability to make food but also the ability to make rudimentary tools and weapons out of unrefined materials.
Still, the food and items made by a survivalist are obviously inferior to the ones made by proper cooks and craftsmen.
"So tell me, wild wolf, is it true?"
The berserker called Roga made the player a question out of nowhere.
"Huh? Sorry, I don't..."
"What Solangus and the ones who accompanied him to the hunting games say."
"I'm not, following. Many things happened."
"When the monsters known as bulette lords were about to be defeated, for some reason their primal instinct kicked in and they became desperate to devour you, and only you in particular."
- Oh...that...I should've known that such a thing wouldn't be forgotten about so easily.
"That? Yeah, that's true. Though I don't know why they did it."
Rhemurus had been thinking it through ever since those games ended, but he genuinely couldn't come up with a logical reason because of his lack of knowledge.
"Can I give you my mind? My comrades and I have only seen behavior like that before from creatures that are natural enemies. They could be predator and prey, or they could be two predators competing for the same type of prey, but when a creature manages to locate its natural enemy, then it will stop at absolutely nothing to destroy its enemy. Nothing."
"Really? Then, perhaps the bulette lords were an exception since I doubt humans and bulettes are natural enemies."
"You're right. From what our leader has told us, humans have been participating in the hunting games for many years now, and during all those years the bulette lords Solangus described us had never behaved that way before."
Roga paused for a moment, then fixed his stare directly on Rhemurus' eyes.
"That is, until you joined them."
An uncomfortable silence fell between the two. The player believed he had an idea of what Roga was accusing him of, but he decided to wait and see if the berserker made it clear to him.
"Huh, what exactly are you suggesting? You will have to forgive me, but I'm not sure if I'm following you."
"Humans and bulettes are not natural enemies, but when you appeared in front of them, the bulettes behaved as if they did find their enemy at last. Are you really this dense, wild wolf?"
- I have a name, damn it!
"Are you suggesting that...that I'm not a human?"
"I'm simply pointing out the obvious. Your appearance be dammed, looks never mean anything. Rather, it's your nature which seems so irregular, making powerful monsters behave that way, progressing as a druid so unnaturally fast. Not even the myriad of races in these lands has had individuals like you, if the word of our leader is to be trusted."
"Would you believe me if I tell you that I honestly have no explanation for the behavior of the bulette lords?"
"Yet you do have one for your unnatural progress as a druid, then?"
"I...I guess I'm just talented."
Rhemurus knew that Roga wouldn't swallow that half-baked excuse, but he honestly didn't have any proper excuse to explain why he reached the 3rd-tier so fast.
"If tomorrow Solangus decides to accept your aid in our daily hunts, then so be it. But do know that we will have our eyes on you, wild wolf."
"Of course, that much makes perfect sense. I suppose I will be seeing you guys. Farewell."
Once it appeared that Roga didn't have anything else to say, Rhemurus took the opportunity to say goodbye and walked out of the combat district back into the inn where he was staying at.
There were actually several hours left until the day ended, and there were also plenty of things to do in the human city. But even if he had the money to spare on leisure, Rhemurus still wouldn't indulge in any of that, at least not now when there was so much on his mind. He wanted to use the time it will take him to walk from one corner of Breizen into the other to see if he could put his thoughts in order.
And eventually, by the time it was becoming nighttime, he finally returned to the Starry Night Inn.
However, his mind was still a swirling mess of chaotic thoughts. As of now, he felt that it didn't matter what he decided to do, the outcome would still place him in a more difficult position than he is now.
- I can't believe I'm thinking this, but I somewhat wish that the social structures of this world were at least a bit similar to the ones back on Earth.
Obviously, that wouldn't really be a good thing under any sort of measure, it would simply make things like building connections much easier for Tanaka Ito since back in Japan everyone had a specific place in society assigned since birth, so people like him knew how to properly interact with individuals based on their position in the social hierarchy.
But here, in this world, social hierarchies seem far more loose and fickle in comparison; a few days ago he was just a random refugee who people were somewhat wary of, but he was still considered harmless nonetheless. Now, because of his snafu in the hunting games, people no longer consider him harmless under any measure, and if anything, they're even warier of him than ever before.
This is what he gets for being impatient, since if he would have focused on building a genuinely good relationship with those around him - something that takes a long time - people would be praising his sudden increase of magical power, rather than fearing him.
- Whatever. I'm getting tired of having to depend on others, and I'm pretty sure others consider me a loathsome burden anyways.
He was starting to let an idea brew inside his head, an idea that crossed his mind before but he initially considered would be a waste of energy. But seeing how he may not have a chance of getting in the good graces of the berserkers, this idea may be the only one he had available for the time being.
- I believe I remember the direction where Solangus and his group came from. It's not so late, and supper will be ready in an hour or so anyways.
Making up his mind, Rhemurus got off his bed, took a good look outside the window, and then opened his room's door to take a peek around the nearby rooms to make sure nobody was currently walking in the hallway.
- Alright, it appears the coast is clear.
He went towards his bed and - since he wasn't wearing his armor anymore - cast the 1st-tier arcane spell [Silent Image] on the bed to make an illusion of himself taking a nap. Then he cast his currently favored spells [Invisibility], [Longstrider], and [Heart of Air] on himself, as well as [Spider Climb] for good measure.
The window was too small for his adult body to go through, so he silently opened the door to get out and immediately closed it afterward. After that, it was quite easy for him to walk out of the inn without anyone noticing he passed through.
- Alright, here goes.
Without actually putting any actual serious thought into his stupid idea, Rhemurus began to pseudo-fly with [Gust of Wind] all the way back to the combat district in order to see if he could backtrack the steps of the berserkers who hunted down the achaierai. The idiot player believes that he will be able to locate any nearby monsters without proper ranger job classes or appropriate divination spells, not realizing that he will go through all this effort for absolutely no reason.
But Tanaka Ito is still an impatient and stubborn mule all the way through, and if he insists on learning everything the hard way, then so be it.
The only one who will end up being disappointed in the end will be him, and only him.
[Hoburns, capital city of the Roble Holy Papacy]
A bit southwest of the Argland Council State, still situated at a western end of the supercontinent, lies a country that was originally known as the Roble Holy Kingdom. But as of the last decades, it was rebaptized from a Kingdom ruled by a monarch to a Papacy ruled by a proper holy figure.
Or...unholy, depending on who you ask.
Regardless, the capital city of the Roble Holy Papacy - Hoburns - was one of the greatest centers of worship for the adherents of the Church of Ainz Ooal Gown. Only the city where the sorcerer emperor himself usually resides - E-Rantel - was considered even more sacred.
Having said that, the papacy was still the place where the divine warriors of Ainz Ooal Gown, his antipaladins, were raised since it was relatively easy to adapt the preexisting paladin traditions of the Four Great Gods into the newer faith of the leader of the Seven Great Gods who had the sorcerer emperor himself at the top.
It didn't take that much effort, all that the propagandists of the empire had to do what brainwash everyone into believing that the Four Great Gods, who themselves were a variant sect of the Six Great Gods of the now-fallen Slaine Theocracy, were the lesser subordinates of the one known today as the God of Stars; Ainz Ooal Gown.
The myth said that Ainz Ooal Gown who holds dominion over the vastness of the universe sent his lesser subordinates into the new world 600 years before he himself arrived. The mission of these six inferior deities was to scout and prepare the world for his arrival, and when the time was right for the Great God himself to arrive, he knew that mortals were ignorant and foolish creatures that wouldn't recognize his divinity unless it was properly shown for all to see, so that's exactly what he did.
Befitting of his title of God of Stars, the greater deity called forth beings from the darkest pit of the cosmos to herald the arrival of his divine presence, and the ones who answered his call were the ones known as Dark Young, creatures that were actually much weaker than the God of Stars and his direct subordinates themselves, but were still cosmic beings that surpassed any mortal alive today.
At least that's how the myth goes anyway.
Obviously, the ones that were alive back when the emperor first arrived wouldn't really swallow a tale like that, but the vast majority of the people who were alive back then were already dead, so as far as the current generation knew, Ainz Ooal Gown was the legitimate ruler of the new world and any 'alien being' - player - that came before him was either a loyal servant sent in a mission or some deserter rebel that ended up dying in this world as punishment.
As a result, the iconography of the Church of Ainz Ooal Gown in the human lands was composed mainly of the sorcerer emperor himself and six lesser deities that are remembered as his loyal vassals who arrived in the new world before everyone else, making a total of Seven Great Gods.
On the non-human lands, the iconography instead adapts other demi-humans or heteromorphs of legend that fit the 'powerful divine servant' bill, like in the land of the minotaurs for example, the Great Sage is likewise recognized as a servant of the God of Stars that arrived to the new world 200 years before the emperor did.
It didn't matter in which part of the vast empire you were, you would always see the icon of four elemental forces joined by two light and dark figures surrounding a single luminous individual who shone brighter than anyone else.
"Breathtaking, this beautiful architecture. Befitting a house of the King of the Gods."
The young man who was currently walking the main street of Hoburns had seen the church's cathedral countless times before, but he was always taken aback by the majesty of this sacred building every single time he laid eyes on it.
If it was the objective beauty of the structure, or the man's zealous bias, it didn't matter.
"Alright, enough sightseeing. I have a place to be."
He decided that his eyes were pampered enough for the day, so he continued on his journey to the royal palace where the ruler of the Roble Holy Papacy lived in.
As he got closer, he had to put in the effort to not stop in his tracks again and bask his eyes on the beauty of the palace since his current mission was quite important.
The palace's gates were guarded by two of the highest-level antipaladins in the entire papacy, warriors that recognized the one who was approaching and were delighted to see him again.
"Hey, Belor! How long has it been?"
"Feels like ages!"
The young man, Belor, raised his hand upwards to salute his fellow antipaladins.
It was relatively easy to recognize those three men as members of the same class, a quick peek at their pitch-black full plate armor adorned with metal thorns and horned helmets was more than a clear giveaway.
"So what brings you back to Hoburns? Is it a mission from the Great God?"
"Yes. Is she here today?"
"She is, yes. But she's currently busy, you will have to wait a bit."
"It's alright, I'm sure she will make the time when she knows I was sent by the emperor."
Belor could've commanded the two antipaladins to let him through with the authority that the sorcerer emperor granted him, but instead, he simply waited for the guards to willingly step aside, which they did.
After all, members of the same antipaladin order were as close as siblings, even if they didn't share blood.
So without further ado, Belor gave an assertive nod to his brothers as he stepped into the royal palace to the magnificent sight within.
"Ah, so the conversion process was a success, at last."
Inside the royal palace itself, the guardians who were in charge of directly protecting the leader of the papacy weren't antipaladins. Rather, they were the first generation of a new breed of soldiers currently known as the Martial Undead.
These Martial Undead were the first successful batch of martial art users who retained their combat ability after they transitioned from living beings into undead creatures.
First experimental batches weren't exactly subpar, perse, it was simply that while strong warriors did become strong combat undead, every single time the transition made them lose their identity, their memories, and all the knowledge they accumulated in life, which by extension meant that they always lost the ability to use martial arts.
It was quite the conundrum; spellcasters who became undead almost always retained their magical knowledge and memories they had in life, even if their personalities were revamped by their new burning hatred of the living, so why couldn't martial art users do so as well?
Decades of restless experimentation and seas of failures were needed, but eventually, the native necromancers from the empire who developed new job classes that didn't exist in Yggdrasil thanks to the unique nature of their studies and experiments succeeded in creating a ritual that transformed martial art users into a new variant of vampire that could use martial arts with even greater potency that they could in life.
What's more, thanks to the undead trait of never getting tired, the Martial Undead could keep on spamming their martial arts to the limit without any strain on their bodies! Truly, further batches of soldiers like these will definitely strengthen the empire as a whole.
Further in the distance, Belor could spot the person he was looking for. Well, for him she was a person, but anyone who saw her for the first time wouldn't be blamed for assuming she was something, rather than someone; a spectral undead, she appeared as a somewhat translucent image of the form she held in life, and the more time passes the more blurred her image becomes, but her shape will always be recognized as a humanoid one, and her form was so incredibly horrific that any weak-willed individual who even looked at her would permanently have its physical stats and HP reduced.
Her race was known both in Yggdrasil and in the new world as a banshee, a type of undead whose very presence created a pall over the landscape and whose wails brought instant death to anyone who hears them.
She was no regular banshee, however, since not only was she equipped with items that prevent her from crippling those who look at her and prevented her wails from instantly killing everyone around her, but she was also granted clothes that were custom-made to be worn by incorporeal creatures, clothes with a beauty and exquisite befitting those of a leading divine figure from a massive empire.
Belor began to walk towards her. Not a single Martial Undead present did anything to stop or impede Belor since they all knew who he was, and the closer the young man got the clearer he could see what she was doing.
- Oh, so this is what has her busy.
Currently, the banshee had her incorporeal hands literally inserted inside the head of a kneeling human that Belor had never seen before. And while she did that, a circlet around her incorporeal head was glowing with an emerald light, showing that the magic within the item was being used.
If he were allowed to guess, taking into consideration that the circlet around the banshee's head was a spiritual magic item that made it easy to read and even modify low-level people's minds, Belor believed that she was currently probing this unknown person for some sort of information.
- Don't tell me, is that person a member of that bullshit cult that refuses to let the idiotic doctrines of that outdated country go? Some mortals can be so stupid.
The idiotic doctrines Belor was referring to were the remnants of the country founded by the first wave of players who arrived in this world, a country that Belor didn't even bother to remember its name, he only knew that said country's ideology was based on the idea that one particular race was objectively superior to others, which for someone who was born and raised in the Sorcerer Empire was the epitome of idiocy.
If he himself could understand that all races of the new world were equally inferior to the sorcerer emperor, then why can't some humans who were also born and raised in the empire see it as well?
- It's always a human who is deluded into thinking that way. Wait, don't tell me...was this forgotten country's so-called superior race ideology centered around humans?
That would explain lots of things, seeing how the only members of this deranged cult Belor had any knowledge of were all humans.
- So absurd.
Literally, the only thing that the humans of the new world could flaunt was the fact that they just happened to be the original inhabitants of E-Rantel which was the very first foothold the emperor had in this world so long ago, but as of now, E-Rantel boasted a very huge racial variety. Humans do remain a considerable portion of that city, however.
- Oh right, weren't father and mother originally humans as well? Hence why they and by extension my siblings and I resemble humans a bit.
Not just 'a bit', Belor was indistinguishable from a human except for his crimson red pupils and veins protruding from the sides of his eyes.
The rest of his features were roughly similar to the humans of this particular portion of the empire as well, mainly his fair skin and blonde hair which are also the remnants of the human bodies his parents had before transforming themselves into demons under the grace of Ainz Ooal Gown.
But eventually, regardless of the type of information that the banshee was probing for, she took her ghostly hands outside of the unknown person's head who proceeded to fall down into the floor, foam coming out of its mouth.
She commanded a nearby martial undead to get rid of the body, for she already had what she needed, so Belor took the opportunity to walk up to her and kneel in the most respectful manner he was taught.
"And who is this...oh? Is that you, young Belor?"
Her feminine voice was always accompanied by a spectral echo that would make a normal person chill on their boots, but for Belor, that voice was among the most soothing and sweetest he has ever heard in his life.
"Yes, it's me."
"Belor! How you've grown, look at you!"
The young man for his part simply raised his head with a warm smile painted all over his face.
"It really has been a long time, I've been counting the days until I could return to the papacy. And thanks to the emperor's grace, I could return once more."
"So you're not here just to visit. But that's alright, I know how important your position is."
Both really wanted to spare a minute and catch up, but they knew that Belor had a job to do.
"I was sent here regarding a particular project that the emperor began to work on several days ago. He told me that it would require significant aid from the temples, and sent me here to know if the basic preparations were ready."
"Of course! Once His Majesty sent word directly to me, I commanded every single temple in the Sorcerer Empire to prepare to mobilize. All we need now is the location."
"Already? That was fast, but I guess that's to be expected from someone as exceptional as you."
"So did His Majesty send you further orders?"
"He told me that if the temples were ready to mobilize, then it would be more efficient to give you the next steps in person. Apparently, this will be a subtle but very important project that requires careful coordination."
"His Majesty will come here in person!? What a joyous occasion! Quick, everyone! Let out the red carpet and-"
"Ah forgive me, I'm so sorry, but the emperor demanded subtlety. Once I confirm that the temples are ready to move, I send a [Message] to him and he will use a [Gate] to arrive here. No fanfare, those were his orders."
"Oh...is that so..."
The banshee couldn't help but let out those words laced with sadness. Even if those were orders from His Majesty, a Great God should be welcomed as such, no matter where he went.
Still, that didn't change the fact that she will get to see His Majesty in person once again.
"So if there's nothing else you were scheduled to do this day, I could send the [Message] after your duties are-"
"No, there are no pending tasks for what remains of today. Please, call His Majesty."
That was a blatant lie, the banshee knew that she still had plenty of things she had to do and places she had to be this day, but as far as she was concerned, the world itself could wait after she is done serving His Majesty.
Belor used [Message] to contact the sorcerer emperor, and a minute or so later, a [Gate] opened inside the royal palace to bring forth the majestic figure of the overlord.
Ainz didn't even finish walking through when both Belor and the banshee knelt down in absolute submission. Well, Belor knelt, the banshee simply levitated in a lower position than she was before and lowered her spectral head.
"Mmm, this place got fancier than the last time I was here. Did you have it remodeled?"
Since he didn't got an answer to that casual non-serious question he just made, he looked at both the banshee and Belor before immediately remembering that these two were among the most rigid and loyal of all his followers, so he couldn't even make casual conversation with them without properly commanding them to do so beforehand.
- Would it kill you to stop acting as if I'm some sort of object?
An object of worship is still an object, so even if he doesn't really mind that much, Ainz feels quite saddened that the longer he exists in this world, the more the divide between himself and the natives under his rule will grow.
"You may rise."
Both the antipaladin and the banshee rose again after being granted permission by their master, though their posture was still a relatively lower one when compared to before.
"I hope you two could catch up, after such a long time without seeing each other."
"We can always catch up later, Lord Ainz. Once I got confirmation that the temples were ready, I immediately contacted you."
"Eh?"
- You didn't even have a conversation!? Just why do you think I sent YOU specifically, Belor?
Ainz always felt a bit guilty about the fact that Belor deeply missed the friendships he made here in the Roble Holy Papacy while he was away in other parts of the empire, hence why he sent Belor here under the task of simply asking if the temples were ready to support the project he plans to start in the Kossuth Wastes.
Truth the told, while the support of the temples was indeed crucial to the overall project, he mainly needed an excuse for Belor to come here and see his friends again after so long.
To think he would waste it so casually.
- Friendships are the most important thing, how many times have I told you that?
How many times has he told all his native servants that?
- Whatever. Let's get this over with, I will just command them to stay here for a while and catch up after I'm gone.
"So, the temples are ready, then?"
"Yes! Just like Your Majesty commanded, the materials and manpower required to build infrastructures were all gathered and are ready to deploy."
"So the priests and the arcane devotees will also give their aid?"
On top of divine spellcasters, the temples of the Seven Great Gods also raise arcane spellcasters as well since it's no secret that their chief deity is the most powerful arcane spellcaster to their knowledge, so the adherents of that church see little difference between the magic clerics use and the magic wizards and sorcerers use.
As a result, the preexisting temples of the Four Great Gods and Six Great Gods were all converted into a place where arcane magic is also nourished, while places like Baharuth's ministry of magic were also converted into places where divine magic is nourished, too.
"I even managed to obtain the aid of some adepts too."
"Really now, well done."
Spiritual magic was something that was still relatively rare in comparison to arcane and divine magic in the Sorcerer Empire, one of its contrasts with the Sarrukh Theocracy where spiritual spellcasters composed the vast majority of their tier magic users.
Ainz has been actively trying to encourage its development, however, and while the adherents of the Church of Ainz Ooal Gown do want to genuinely fulfill the will of their master, the people who do have a talent for the spiritual arts simply lack an inspiring figure to look up to. Like, arcane mages can look up to the sorcerer emperor, priests can look up to Shalltear Bloodfallen, but who can adepts look up to? There is no spiritual spellcaster among the strongest of the God of Stars' vassals, only among the lesser-known or relatively weaker servants of the overlord is where one can find dedicated spiritual spellcasters.
Much to Ainz's chagrin, spiritual traditions have no real prominent foothold of their own in the lands under his dominion, no dedicated schools, no standard education process. The exceptional adepts under his domain more often than not are the exception and never the norm since they're usually multi-class rather than dedicated to a single path, using spiritual magic to supplement their other class or vice versa.
"Where shall these forces be mobilized to, Your Majesty?"
"Once I give the signal, the resources will be moved to the Kossuth Wastes, so make sure that everyone has proper protection against extreme heat and cold."
"The Kossuth Wastes?" Belor began to speak for the first time since Ainz arrived. "Do forgive me for asking, Lord Ainz, but why that specific place?"
"Let's just say, I believe it's about time that the king of kings and I finally have a true neutral ground that isn't under the dominion of the Platinum Dragon Lord. A brand new civilized place under an independent ruler that isn't a puppet front for either of us would be just perfect."
While Belor was quite accustomed to his Lord talking about the king of kings - the one who gave himself the title of ba'al - and eventually learned to contain his hatred for that individual, the banshee who ruled the Roble Holy Papacy only heard that title infrequently, so she wasn't used to controlling the gigantic flame of rage building up inside her nonexistent heart which made her nonexistent blood boil.
"The...king of kings...? Your Majesty...why do you want to have a neutral ground to interact with that...that FALSE GOD!?" These last two words that came out of her spectral mouth were unconsciously unleashed in the form of mighty death wails. Even without taking into consideration the magic item that prevents her wails from insta-killing everyone, it was a good thing that both Ainz and Belor - as well as the nearby Martial Undead - were immune to instant death.
"Your Majesty! We should be plotting that impostor's demise instead! We should kill him and throw his corpse into piles of dung! No...use his corpse to create the most powerful undead creature to serve you!"
As a level 100 Yggdrasil being, the ba'al would indeed leave behind quite an excellent corpse material that Ainz could use to make a magnificently powerful undead.
"Why!? Your Majesty! Why waste the blood and sweat of our loyal children to make a land where you will just have conversations with that wannabe usurper!?"
If the banshee still had a physical body, she would be crying tears of desperation created by her confused state of mind.
Belor for his part didn't speak, but he wholeheartedly agreed with the banshee's sentiment. That so-called king of kings was nothing more than a blight in the world that, according to those like Belor, belonged to none other than the sorcerer emperor.
Ainz could somewhat understand their feelings, so instead of berating the banshee, he held his hand upwards in an attempt to calm her down.
"It's alright, I understand your confusion. Forgive me, the fault is mine for not properly explaining my reasoning beforehand."
"You...of course...Your Majesty, of course you have a good reason. How could I not realize it? Your Majesty, I'm so sorry..."
It appeared like her undead trait of emotional suppression kicked in and she calmed down a bit, but her uncontrolled display of wrath was replaced by a feeling of great shame.
- Why do my servants always say they're sorry when I'm the one who made the mistake? I will never get used to this.
"It's okay, it's okay. It's not your fault, it's all mine." Said Ainz as he moved his hand forward to caress the banshee's face.
Or at least, pretend to caress her face since Ainz wasn't currently wearing any equipment that would allow him to physically interact with an incorporeal creature.
But even so, the banshee could swear that she could feel her master's bony hand on her face, she would even say that His Majesty's hand felt warm to the touch, which obviously made absolutely no sense, but to the greatest zealot, it was the greatest truth.
"Your Majesty, how can anything be your fault...?"
Like a doting father consoling his beloved daughter, Ainz kept doing his best to calm her turbulent heart, a sad side-effect of being a banshee.
"It's okay, Neia, everything will be alright. I promise."
The ruler of the Roble Holy Papacy, the banshee preacher, Neia Baraja, was now shedding nonexistent tears of sadness for the disgraceful display she just made mixed in with tears of joy at the fact that His Majesty cared so much about her.