Xenolucifer: First of all, I would like to thank you for posting this review. As for your first critic: "Her personality is paper thin"... you are not wrong. I focused so much on the story and the other characters that I neglected Miriel herself. You're right to point that out. And I apologize for my negligence. I will try to correct the situation.
Nevertheless, her personality is not exactly paper thin. It would be more accurate to say that she is "hollow inside" or "empty". Since the beginning of this story, Miriel was just going with the flow without much struggle. The Theocracy's High Council gives her an order? She obeys. What she experienced on Earth traumatized her, she had no real goals, no real desire... Miriel just wants to be left alone. She obeys the Council out of fear. The bullies she met on Earth trained her well to obey under threat.
I'm really ashamed that I have not highlighted it more in the last chapters.
Then about the power imbalance between Miriel and Ainz, it's entirely voluntary. So I don't have to correct anything. I want to tell the story of real heroes. I want to tell the story of characters that fight against strong enemies, stronger than them. I want to tell how, little by little, with courage, with resourcefulness, they will overcome the obstacles and finally win. I think that kind of hero reassures worried hearts. I think that kind of hero gives hope to the readers. We are already living in a world where the strongest always win in the end. All these anime where real bullies call themselves heroes make me sick. Also, It makes me laugh when you say Miriel is..." pathetically weak"... Miriel is stronger than 98% of the New World inhabitants. Comparing her with Ainz is absurd. Ainz is insanely overpowered.
When I hear people praising the strong and spitting on the weak, I remember Charlie Chaplin's quote: "You only need power to do evil, for everything else love is enough."
I take it as a compliment that you hate my story. Thank you again. Your review helped me remember what kind of story I wanted to write.
InHumanMan: I wish I could say thank you for writing three pages of reviews in just a few minutes.
Except... how can I put it?
Your reviews don't make much sense. An example?
When I said in game's death did not matter for Players, you contradicted me by speaking about guilds' competitions in Yggdrasil, the importance of defeat in PvP, the looting after the death of a player...
Frankly, I'm impressed with your knowledge (actually you are right, I didn't take much interest in Yggdrasil's game mechanic) but... your answers miss completely the mark.
Because, when I said that the death of Players (in-game) was unimportant, it was in the context of a COMPARAISON with the death of REAL PEOPLE in the New World. After reading everything you wrote, and showing off expert knowledge of the Overlordverse, my opinion has not changed. I still believe that the real death of a real person in the real world is more serious than losing in an MMORPG.
And this is not an isolated case. Most of your comments fall short of the mark because you have absolutely ZERO interest in understanding what I wrote
You ran through the 11 chapters of Miriel in four hours with the sole objective of identifying and reporting all the author's mistakes.
Initially, it made me angry. That was mean.
Now I am just sad. I write this series to please the readers not to argue with them.
Antex-The Legendary Zoroark: Thank you.
Day of the Dead
The only noise in the room was the crackling of a fire in the fireplace. The office of Baron Marcus Aquaire Breval was plunged into darkness. The curtains were drawn.
Sitting at a small table, Miriel had half-closed eyes, the forehead folded under the effect of concentration. Her fingers touched a crystal ball resting on a three-legged copper ring.
The surface of the sphere briefly glowed purple, then the ball became inert again... for a short moment... before a misty image appeared at its hearth and began to grow until it occupied the entire crystal.
Those present approached silently. They did not want to distract the wizard.
The image now occupied the entire interior of the crystal ball.
It was a terrifying vision.
An army... a horde, rather... was advancing in a plain, trampling fields and pastures. They came out of a thick forest. The fighters moved in disorder, without the orderly aspect of an army in the field. They walked slowly... mechanically. They were... undead. Thousands and thousands of corpses were brought forth from their grave. Most of them were skeletons dressed in ragged clothes. They had rusty swords and spears as weapons. Some had bucklers or heater shields unless they were hiding behind the lid of their coffin. A minority had corroded armor.
Individually, the skeletons were not very impressive opponents. They moved slowly, reacted even more slowly, and had limited intelligence.
Baron Breval looked at the skeletal warriors who were advancing in the plain, noting that some were carrying ladders while others were pushing a siege ram. Archers and crossbowmen shot at the undead horde but the effect was almost zero.
"Their weapons and armor are archaic. A necromancer must have lifted them from an ancient cemetery... or perhaps from an ancient battlefield."
He stopped talking to watch another group of undead... zombies. Unlike skeletons, they had died much more recently. Their flesh had not yet fallen to dust. The rotten corpses staggered, their hands stretched out, like sleepwalkers. The crystal ball did not broadcast the sounds, but seeing the movements of their mouths they had to grunt or moan continuously.
Breval licked his lips and swallowed. The hair of his neck was bristling... it was normal to be horrified by such a vision. Nevertheless, he paid attention to details that had escaped the attention of most observers.
"They're dressed like peasants... except this one who wears a chainmail with the coat-of-arm of a lord on his tabard... he was a man-at-arm... before."
In the crystal ball, the battle was raging. Fireballs exploded among the undead ranks, instantly charring dozens of skeletons, and turning the zombies into torches that still advanced a few tens of meters before collapsing, shriveling, and blackening.
Magicians were on the walls of the besieged city and their spells made carnage. But the initial enthusiasm of the spectators died out when the crystal ball made a wide shot of the battle, showing the white walls and the crenelated towers encircling a village of small houses chillingly tight around each other. Outside, the horde swarmed like an army of ants going up to attack a termite mound.
Even if dozens of explosions had sown devastation in the front ranks of the marching horde... the breaches were closing quickly. The forest continued to disgorge undead as if Ainz Ooal Gown had unlimited reserves.
Baroness Breval patted an illustration on the armorial (the dictionary of noble families, with their coats of arms) and showed a flag that flew at the top of a tower.
"This flag 'azure with a silver deer' is Skornhelm County."
On the map of the kingdom of Re-Estize, the young woman showed a city of the same name near the western border of the country. All the cities further south were crossed with a cross in red ink... Over the past two weeks, thanks to Miriel's magic, the baron and his wife had been able to follow the invasion of Re-Estize by the armies of the Sorcerer Kingdom. The undead horde had swept over an area 1,000 kilometers long and advanced 500 kilometers. It might seem incredible that creatures slower than humans move so fast but... undead did not sleep, they did not tire and they could walk day and night without requiring supplies.
The crystal ball now showed a section of the ramparts.
Behind the battlements was an assortment of defenders. There were feudal men-at-weapons with full chainmail, blue tabards emblazoned with a silver deer, and chapel-de-fer helmets. Some had halberds, some had crossbows, and some had broadswords with wankel shields adorned with the Skornhelm coat-of-arm. The majority of the fighters were levies, inhabitants of the city, armed with a mixture of old weapons and summarily transformed tools. The elite of the garrison were the adventurers, a dozen small groups composed of priests, magicians, thieves, and especially warriors with heavy armor and magical weapons.
Given their equipment, it was a mix of Iron, Silver, and Gold-ranked adventurers.
"Let's say two hundred fighters per section of the rampart and ten defenders per tower..." Baron Breval stopped a few seconds to finish his mental arithmetic "... that must make two thousand defenders, in all."
He did not specify that most of them were low levels.
Hiding behind their shields, the fighters protected themselves from the shooting of skeleton archers and retaliated, using the machicolations to throw stones at the horde... However, an explosion of purple flame suddenly struck the battlements which caused a real panic although there were only a few wounded.
Breval stood up in his chair, worried.
"Do they have spellcasters?"
The next moment a cloud of greenish smoke spread over another section of the ramparts. The fighters dispersed as they coughed. Several men collapsed and convulsed on the ground, dying.
"Are they skeletons mages?"
He turned to Miriel and called her by the name by which she had presented herself to him.
"Nimrodel, try to find one of these spellcasters!"
The half-elf nodded without saying a word, biting her lips and her face glowing with perspiration. Briefly stopping breathing, she focused...
The crystal ball showed only a gray haze before a chaos of images appeared... the forest... undead... as Miriel searched the positions of the Sorcerer Kingdom.
The image stabilized suddenly, only one character now appeared in the sphere. He was dressed in a wizard's dress that must have been sumptuous... centuries ago. The colors were now faded and the sleeves were moth-eaten. The hood revealed a hideous face... a fleshless skull head still partly covered with parched skin. In the empty orbits shone a ruby-colored light. The bony hands that came out of the sleeves clenched a mage staff inlaid with jewels and gold.
"A... a Lich!"
Marcus Aquaire Breval's eyes widened with terror. A few months earlier, before the first appearance of Ainz Ooal Gown, the Lichs were considered the most powerful undead in existence. A necromancer who wanted to become an undead of this type had to sacrifice the population of an entire city in a sinister ritual... which explained why they were so rare. But Ainz was an 'Overlord', a type of undead unknown until then. The Sorcerer King considered the Lichs to be inferior beings, even feeling insulted when someone compared him to them.
"There are at least four... no, five others."
Breval turned to Miriel. The wizard had the face of the color of ash... she used a lot of magical energy, weakening very quickly. It must be said that she was spying on a scene that took place more than two thousand five hundred kilometers from Targos.
"You mean there are six Lichs at the head of this army?"
She nodded with difficulty.
"Yes".
Again, the image blurred inside the crystal ball. The ramparts reappeared; they were seen from the undead army ranks. Spells struck the top of the ramparts while skeletons raised ladders. Some towers had collapsed or burned. The final assault had begun. Zombies had pushed a battering ram against the doors. The wooden leaves shook the first time, while the ram oscillated like a pendulum before hitting the doors again.
On the ramparts, the undead had already captured several beachheads and were gradually repelling the defenders. The fighting was confused, and fierce. The humans fought the best they could, but... they were fewer. In addition, fear and fatigue weakened them, while their soulless opponents did not know this kind of weakness.
In the crystal, the image changed. This time, Miriel showed a street... the zombies were spreading in the city entering through a door that lay on the ground.
At the head of the flood of animated corpses...
"What the hell is that?"
With her eyes wide open, Altira had crossed her hands before his mouth. Her whole attitude expressed fear and disbelief.
The crystal ball showed two humanoid colossi. Mummified corpses whose black plate armor left the lower sternum and upper legs uncovered. They had helmets with horns covering the top of the face, large shields without emblem, and swords with wavy blades.
The two monsters were facing knights who had rushed at them in the hope of defeating them... a vain hope... horses were trampling in their bowels, wounded knights were crawling on the ground... Like two reapers in a field, the undead tirelessly wielded their scarlet swords, cutting one rider after another.
It was a red nightmare, smelling blood, even seen through the crystal ball.
"They are Death Knights" replied Antilene, still just as insensitive to the emotions of others as always.
The battle had just ended, and the last defenders were dead.
But this did not mark the end of the butchery.
Undead would break down doors, smash windows, and knock down furniture barricades. They moved methodically, one street after another, one house after another. When they came out of the building, there was nothing left alive inside.
Ainz Ooal Gown had ordered the total annihilation of the Re-Estize Kingdom. Because a convoy of supplies had been stolen, he had decided to make an example that would never be forgotten.
Like all the towns that had fallen before it, Skornhelm would be wiped off the map.
Women, children, old people, no one would be spared.
It was not a war of conquest. The goal was to make a lasting impression, to terrorize the populations as well as the leaders. No one should ever dare to oppose Nazarick's will. The massacre had to make everyone understand that Nazarick was invincible and that any opposition would be punished... without any mercy.
It was terrorism in the strict sense of the term (1).
An hour later, six Lichs advanced toward the city's torn walls. They drew a magic circle on the ground and began to recite incantations.
The image became blurred, replaced by the sight of a street strewn with corpses. Some bodies quivered... then rose! It seemed incredible that they could walk. They all had horrible wounds. Some were even pierced by a rusty sword or arrow! But there was no more intelligence in their eyes and the blood that flowed from their wounds was no longer under pressure because their hearts had stopped beating.
Around the temples, gravestones rose as skeletons dug the earth to extract themselves from their graves.
Everywhere the corpses got up. They came out of the houses or down the stairs leading to the ramparts to join the waves of undead who came out through the gates of Skornhelm. Increased by these new 'recruits' the horde of the Sorcerer Kingdom had started again advancing toward the next objective.
After each victory, Ainz Ooal Gown strengthened his army by integrating the dead.
And with each defeat, the Re-Estize Kingdom weakened.
The outcome of the war was hardly in doubt.
Altiria Siina Verteil was an authentic elf princess with large eyes and pointed ears.
Her hair was of an unusual color, intermediate between blond and red. In two braids, they fell on both sides of her fine and delicate face.
A thin golden headband adorned with an emerald squeezed her forehead and she wore a long white dress with a pink bustier decorated with gold threads.
Walking down the corridor with a feigned calm, the young woman stopped in front of a door... hesitated, and knocked.
She had to do it twice before getting an answer.
"Get out of here!"
"Sorry to bother you, Nimrodel, but I need to talk to you."
"I would like to rest... leave me alone!"
"This is very important!"
There was a moment of silence followed by a sigh of annoyance.
"I guess you won't leave... come in!"
Altiria turned to her bodyguard.
"Wait here for me."
Leyen Aristeia nodded without saying a word.
The elf princess pushed the door and entered.
The room was a mess. An alchemy kit, a mortar; a metal cup on a brazier; and a glass retort filled with a red liquid bubbling gently, were on a table. On the floor, sheets of paper were covered with unfinished magical figures. Around them, crumpled papers lined with an inkwell, strange luminous crystals, and open books.
Cautiously walking not to collapse the towers made of stacked books, Altiria approached the bed.
Lying down, Miriel massaged her forehead. She opened her eyes briefly. The Summoner did not hide her bad mood.
"I am sure that like all people who have a task for me, it is urgent and only I can do it. So don't give me the long explanation and get right to the point, princess. I'd like to rest, if you don't mind, of course."
Altiria took the books from the chair and sat down. Guarding one of them in her hands, she turned the pages mechanically. The princess shuddered... she could not read the Japanese ideograms, but she recognized the writing used in the holy books of the Six Religious Sects. This confirmed what she had been thinking for several days...
"I did not come to give you a task... I have a question." Altiria immediately followed up, before losing her determination." You're a Player, aren't you?"
Miriel stopped rubbing her eyes as if changed into a salt statue... but it only lasted a moment.
"I don't think denying it would help..."
Altiria jumped up. Almost supplicating, she interrupted the Summoner.
"Why do you come into this world?! Why do you slaughter the inhabitants?! Why... "
"Stop!"
Miriel had straightened up.
"I have a headache... stop yelling."
There was a moment of silence.
"I don't know about the others. I came alone... and I didn't choose to come. I didn't want to participate in this conflict. I was not given a choice." Miriel paused. "Maybe none of us had a choice from the start, whether it was Momon, Ainz, the vampire with a stupid name that the Dark Hero killed, or even Jadalbaoth."
Altiria hesitated to answer. The one she knew as Nimrodel did not seem to lie. She answered with an exhausted voice without any passion.
"Maybe we are doomed to slaughter each other, just because of the Role-play choices we made in a Video Game."
"What do you mean," finally asked the princess, frowning under the effect of uncertainty.
Without ceasing to rub her forehead, the Summoner sat on her bed.
"You know nothing about 'Players'. I guess you don't even know the origin of the name given to us, Princess Altiria."
"It... it can be true."
Altiria was shocked. Miriel had just spent half an hour explaining what an MMORPG was and how she got sent to the New World. The half-elf shrugged.
"I can't make you believe me... but that's the truth. We're just ordinary people with no special powers... at least before we're reincarnated here in our game's avatars."
Miriel leaned against the walls and looked up.
"Where I come from, there is a whole literary genre called 'Isekai' that explores the theme of reincarnation in another universe. It is a cliché genre with unimaginative stories, recurring themes, and obligatory paths. The character is always stupidly OverPowered, he has dedicated servants who consider him like a living god and believe he's a genius, he has a harem..."
"A harem?!"
The Summoner laughs at Altiria's shocked tone.
"People's motivations are rarely very complicated. If they have money, they want sex and power. If they have power, they want sex and money. And if they have sex, they sell themselves for money and then power... If they have none of this, they envy the powerful, the beautiful, and the rich. In return, the powerful look down on the weak. Humans behave like rats. Except that rats are cruel only because their lives are at stake... while humans can kill for a wrong look."
The elf princess was shaken by violent emotions. She would have liked to be able to challenge what the Summoner had just said... but the example of the king of the elves, Decem Hougan, clearly showed that there was no need to be Isekaied on another world to behave like a perfect son of a b... uh... like a bad person.
Without paying attention to Altiria's emotions, Miriel wrapped her knees with her arms, squeezing them against her chest and putting her head on it.
"My migraine is fading away... I like this feeling... I still have pain, but I'm so exhausted and intoxicated with endorphins that my whole body vibrates... I feel like I'm in gray cotton, everything is unreal."
Without transition, Miriel opened her eyes.
"Ainz Ooal Gown's behavior, his aggressiveness, his lack of inhibition in using violence... this is typical of the Isekai, where the Players treat the locals as the NPC of a Video Game... just a source of XP and loot... yet another demonstration of the Milgram experience."
The elf princess frowned.
"Milgram's experience?"
"That's right, you can't know..."
Milgram's experiment is named after Professor Stanley Milgram, Department of Psychology of Yale University.
Sixty years ago, he hired a group of volunteers who believed they were participating in an experiment on memory. Milgram explained to them that they were in charge of testing people by having them answer a questionnaire. For each wrong answer, they had to turn a switch that sent an electroshock. As the test progressed, they had to increase the voltage. The voltage selector had a graduated system with green, orange, and red sections. The red section was even labeled 'danger of death'.
The experiment began.
Some of the people tested gave the right answer...some of them gave a wrong one. At first, they got light discharges. They jolted slightly. And after each wrong answer, the testers increased the voltage. The tested were now receiving very violent discharges that made them scream in pain. Some of the testers began to hesitate, asking for instructions from Professor Milgram and his assistants. But their answers were invariable. "Please continue" "Please go on." "The experiment requires that you continue." "It is absolutely essential that you continue." "You have no other choice; you must go on."
Finally, one of the examiners increased the voltage to the red 'danger of death' zone. After receiving a first discharge, the test subject began to cry and beg, explaining that he had heart problems and was at risk of dying.
The examiner turned to one of Professor Milgram's assistants who told him to continue the experiment and...
Altiria got up, furious.
"But they are all crazy! What experiment is worth risking the lives of the examined?"
Miriel bit her lip, trying not to laugh. This made the princess even angrier.
"There is nothing fun in that I say..."
"You are wrong, princess; it's a lot of fun. Let me finish. Do you remember what I said at the beginning? The examiners believed they were participating in a memory experiment. The truth is that the machines that delivered electric shocks were... fake and the 'tested' were actors who pretended to suffer. The real people tested were the 'examiners' engaged by newspaper advertisements. Ordinary people were very easily convinced to play executioners and torture strangers for $4 an hour (2)."
The princess sat down, tried to speak, to explain herself but only managed to say a few unintelligible words.
"You understand the parallel with Ainz's situation now? Here is an ordinary human Isekaied in the New World. Of course, his avatar is OP; of course, he has an army of servants who admire him and tell him how extraordinary he is and how easy it would be for him to become the master of the world...
Altiria nodded.
"And he slaughtered hundreds of thousands of people at the slightest provocation..."
"Exactly, but before you start explaining to me that the Sorcerer King is a flawlessly evil monster, could you remind me at what exact moment you rise to say that the Milgram Experiment crossed the line?"
The princess blushed violently and looked away. As she did not answer, Miriel did so in her place.
"You were outraged when I said someone was in danger of death. You didn't react before when people suffered, it was acceptable for you. Most people want power, they want to be strong. But when you give power. to people.. most of them behave like tyrants. 'Ordinary people, simply doing their jobs, and without any particular hostility on their part, can become agents in a terrible destructive process'. This is the conclusion of the Milgram Experiment (3)."
Altiria had spent a few minutes meditating on what Miriel had taught her. The girl had curled up, her head resting on her knees, her breathing slow and deep. The half-elf gave the impression of sleeping but her eyes were wide open.
"Who are you?"
The Summoner jumped and straightened.
"Sorry?"
"Who are you?"
The half-elf looked at the princess. At first, she did not seem to understand, and then... she laughed.
"You know... you're the first person to ask me about myself... I was going to say since I came to the New World but in fact... you're the first person to ask me a personal question since the guidance officer at school last year. And he was paid for it. The people of the Theocracy of Slane, think I'm an evil witch who makes pacts with demons; Baron Marcus believes that I am a mercenary only motivated by money. None of them would pollute their certainties wondering who I am."
Miriel looked up to the ceiling; the tone of her voice was dreamy.
"Who am I? I'm just... me... a 16-year-old high school student... nobody important."
"You are 16 years old!? It's impossible you are so... mature."
Actually, Altiria meant 'cynical' but hesitated on that word. The princess' incredulous reaction made the Summoner smile.
"Yes, I am 16. You can't judge me on an appearance I created. About maturity... I remember reading that it is the result of the life one lives, and a lot of people in my class behaved like 12-year-olds."
"But how can you know so much?"
"Where I come from, there is a thing called 'Internet' which is a kind of library accessible to all and containing all the knowledge of humanity... Just access it and ask questions. I learned about the Milgram Experiment on the Internet."
"It's amazing... so people in your world must all be very smart."
Altiria blinked, not understanding what had caused the sudden hilarity outburst of her new friend.
Wiping tears from her eyelids, the half-elf tapped the princess's shoulder.
"Thank you, princess. I needed to laugh... but...ouch... it woke up my headache."
"What did I say so funny, Nimrodel?"
"Most of the people in my home world are complete morons, princess. They believe that the Earth is flat, that dinosaurs are contemporaries of man, and that a bearded old man sitting on a small cloud created the world 5,000 years ago. You can pile up evidence to the contrary, they refuse to believe it, talking about 'conspiracy'. That's their answer to everything. Yet, if the Earth were flat, how did the Spanish colonize the Philippines, or how could the Russians colonize Alaska? Or how did my people, the Japanese, could have attacked Pearl Harbor? But it's impossible to contradict the 'strong ones', they take any contradiction as a personal attack, at first they use words to hurt you, and then they seek to belittle you... And if you continue, they use physical violence. They regroup and beat you up. The 'strong' are so brave that they must always attack the 'weak' in groups. As the only thing I received speaking the truth was blows, I ended up being the silent type."
The princess had not understood Miriel's historical explanation because of a lack of references... just that she lamented about the lack of knowledge of her contemporaries.
"They don't use the Internet?"
"Oh yes... they go there to watch A.V."
It took Miriel a few minutes to explain what an 'Adult Video' was. Tickled pink, Altiria looked away.
"They are perverts!"
"And this is their most endearing side..." mocked the half-elf. "Otherwise, there are plenty of sites that deny global warming, and ecological collapse and call for the 'holy crusade' against people who are not like them."
"Nimrodel, you have so much power, what do you want to do with it?"
The half-elf looked at the princess.
"You mean in the New World?"
"Yes."
"Honestly, I don't know... so far I have never decided the course of my life. I've only been following the flow of events trying not to drown. Princess, you're the first one to ask me what I would like to be except that..."
She had an awkward laugh.
"... except that the last time I pursued a personal goal was to be a princess... yes it's infantile, but I was 8. I guess that excuses my behavior. Younger, I would have loved to be someone like you, a beautiful elf princess who believes in the destiny of her people and wants to overthrow a tyrant. But I haven't believed in any cause for a long time."
"You have no purpose?"
"Nothing, unless 'I don't want to be hit' and 'left me alone' count as career plans. In any case, I don't want to be the 'strongest' or 'dominate a kingdom'. Such chunibyou (4) behavior ceased to amuse me a long time ago. First, being 'strong' should be the result of a person's efforts. The strength I received, the strength Ainz or Momon has, they are undeserved. 'Playing a video game' is not one of the ordeals that should be rewarded with extraordinary power. Then people who are obsessed with 'force' do not understand that 'force' is a means, a tool, not an end in itself. They want to be admired, to be powerful rulers or great sorcerers... all they care about are the outside, the appearances. They want the lead role in a theatrical play, parading in stage clothes in the middle of cardboard decors."
"For you, what is important?"
"What we do, of course. Ainz Ooal Gown embarked on a war of conquest, he destroyed one city after another, he has already killed hundreds of thousands of people and yet when he dies, there will be nothing left of him." Miriel paused for a brief moment to reflect and then looked the princess in the eye. "Do you know what we keep?"
"What we keep," Altiria repeated in a questioning tone.
"We all die. It is a fundamental truth. You, me... even Ainz will end up dying... even if this term is not necessarily the most suitable for an undead. But he will eventually disappear like the Six Great Gods and the Eight Greed Kings before him. So what will be left of us? What will we have taken? What will we have destroyed? No, it will disappear with us. That's why there's nothing left of the Eight Greed Kings. You may have a little trouble accepting it because you are from a nation that is an enemy of the Theocracy of Slane, princess. But the Six Great Gods are a positive example for a Player like me. They created a religion, and nations, they taught the Tier Magic to the inhabitant of the New Word. They have left their mark on this world, saving humans, elves, and dwarves on the verge of being exterminated by demi-humans. Because of this, they have not completely disappeared. What is important is what we do for others, and what we give to them. Those who want to be 'strong' just lay a plaster on the gaping wound of their vanity, they want to make the others jealous and be able to crush them with their contempt. A very look-at-me behavior, if you want my opinion. I prefer to be 'useful'. To be useful is to be able to help others, maybe even be loved by them. It soothes my sense of insecurity, it gives me the impression of existing by myself. I don't care about being 'strong'. The world has had enough tyrants. I prefer to sow fields, make children laugh, or build houses. At least my life will make sense. I don't want to waste my life in vain to pursue the reflection of my ego in the eyes of others.
(1) When one talks about terrorism, one generally talks about groups that plant bombs to promote an idea. But it's a language abuse. Strictly speaking, Terrorism is a form of government... invented by Maximilien de Robespierre, a French dictator with ideas as simple as... razor-sharp. "Anyone who opposes me will be beheaded". He called this political system 'La Terreur' (The Terror, in French). Robespierre himself was beheaded after a botched trial using the emergency laws that he had imposed. I guess that's what one calls immanent justice.
(2) $4 from 1962, about $39 from 2022.
(3) The Milgram Experiment has been repeated several times. In 61-66% of cases, operators obey without hesitation. Ainz's case is a little different because he is the leader of Nazarick, he does not receive orders from a superior but... he does not want to disappoint the inhabitants of the Great Tomb of Nazarick... which leads him to be the implacable leader of the Sorcerer Kingdom.
(4) Also known as 'eight-grader syndrome'. It describes early teens desperately wanting to stand out, and who convince themselves they have secret powers.