If it weren't for the usual protections against status effects that Peroroncino had, he swore that the display of power that Dynamite unleashed would have made him both blind and deaf. However, even at level one hundred, he could still feel his bones rattle from the, thankfully, self-contained [Explosion].
"I just hope she got that out of her system for the next couple of days," he muttered, paying no mind to the whimpering of the villagers he snatched out of bed.
He once again thanked his sense of self for not wearing an Amulet of Greater Hel. Had he moved as quickly as he did while a fully-charged [Explosion] spell went off, he was certain the piece of gear would've been blown clear off if not outright incinerated.
"C-could you p-please let us down, sir? I-I'm catching a bit of a draft out here," one of the villagers asked, dangling from his grip like a sad sack of wet undergarments. His wife and daughter were dangling with him, and in Peroroncino's other hand was the member of Zuranon he thought was named Jamie.
"Oh, right, sorry," he acquiesced to the villagers, distracted by his thoughts. Annoyance was at the forefront of it all since while he understood his friend's desire to "let loose" and destroy something, he just wished she restrained herself long enough for them to pull out the "death lord" from the cavern and blow it up above ground.
At the very least, she buffed up a [Globe of Invulnerability] to handle the power of her spell. That should normally only be effective against fifth-tier spells.
Without another word, he zipped back to his friends before the villagers could ask further questions, crossing his arms as he stood next to Ulbert and Dynamite.
"There were only about three people still left in the cavern, plus this one," he said, hoisting his prisoner. "At the very least you avoided the worst of the collateral damage."
Dynamite grinned impishly at him. "Come on, Pero! You think I'd risk a bunch of civvies like that just so I could have fun?"
"To be fair, you used an eight-tier spell and buffed it up to tenth-tier just to kill something that is only slightly higher level than an ordinary death knight if the "lord" title is anything to go by."
Ulbert snorted at that. "As per usual, not many can stand up to our power. I couldn't tell you that creature's particular level, but I highly doubt much could survive taking two [Explosions] all at once."
Peroroncino hummed in agreement, glancing up at where the death lord had been previously. All he saw was a smoking crater roughly five meters in diameter, the earth scorched black and crumbling into ash. From that ash, he couldn't tell what was from the rock that got incinerated and what was from the actual undead Dynamite killed.
Likewise, the body the death lord smashed was also nowhere to be found. That was to be expected since all that would be left could fit in a ziplock bag. The thunderbird archer was morbidly amused at this.
"In any event, you wanted to interrogate these three, right? The Zuranon member I don't imagine will be too willing to tell us something we don't already know. The two you have, Ulbert, I think are more than willing to cooperate with us."
He said all of this pragmatically, especially in a situation where ordinary people were involved. It was probably because he had his other friends with him, acting as an anchor to keep him from full-on panicking. His heteromorphic nature had limits, after all, only really serving to keep his disgust at blood and gore in check. He half-wondered if he could ask Momonga for tips on how he remained so calm nowadays, even more so than their other friends.
Back to the situation at hand, he recognized his statement must've been more ominous sounding than he intended, as both the young boy and girl began to quake slightly in their boots.
The Zuranon member was quietly weeping, shaking his head in disappointment, though, at himself or the situation or both, Peroroncino could not tell. With his group's track record, he couldn't care less either way.
At the very least, we can get figure out why they were all here for. Zuranon seems like a minor threat to the guild, but I know people like Tabula and Mekongawa would appreciate the info since some of the people they befriended have been directly affected by the group's actions.
"Now that we have that out of the way, I believe I wanted to speak with you two," Dynamite said in a peppy way, turning to the younger boy and girl. She gave them an energetic grin, still riding that high of finally getting to destroy something that wouldn't have dire consequences.
"We can worry about the Zuranon guy in a bit. You, the cute little pair you are, interest me the most because you're not just simple villagers. You have an agenda and a mission to follow. You work for a guy who goes by the name of the 'Weeping King', am I right?"
The girl that Ulbert held in the grasp of his ethereal hands kept her mouth shut tight. She attempted her best glare, only for it to ultimately fail against Dynamite's more friendly and understanding smile. The boy was far less reserved, his head swiveling between the harpy player and the mighty crater she left behind.
Of the two, the girl was the better put together emotionally wise. Not to mention that the way the girl glared at the three of them reflected a deeper sort of pain and anger, beyond simply being awed by the display of powerful magic.
Peroroncino idly wondered if the girl recognized the depth at which she was out of her situation, and merely chose to rage against it anyways, but that didn't feel like a proper explanation. Rather, it appeared her wrath was more directed at the three guildmates than her situation, which was understandable, since one of them had just killed her undead bodyguard and the other had effortlessly dispatched and held them against their will.
Dynamite, sensing neither of their hostages would speak freely, sighed. "Okay look, I'm not gonna go all 'we can do this the easy way or the hard way'. We do have this guy from Zuranon here, and he seems like the type to spill his guts if we ask him nicely enough. Either we hear it from him or we hear it from you. In any event, I get my curiosity satisfied and have something to bring back to my other friends."
The Zuranon member jumped on his afforded chance ravenously. "O-of course! I know who they are! Any member of my order would know who they are! They are a most detested and spiteful splinter of our history. Just, please! Promise me I won't be hurt if I tell you! I-I don't do well with pain, much less if it's inflicted on me!"
"Shut up! You don't get to speak about our group like you know the slightest bit about us! I could just as easily spout off some nonsense about Zuranon and speak as if I'm some higher authority!" The girl quickly spat, finally speaking up.
"P-please! I'm begging you! My associates and I were just here to scout, nothing more! Please, grant me amnesty and I'll gladly tell you anything you want," the Zuranon member just as quickly ignored the girl, he groveled as best he could in Peroroncino's titanium grip.
The two groups continued to argue back and forth between themselves, with Zuranon mainly ignoring the girl and her partner in favor of directly speaking with Ainz Ooal Gown. Likewise, this intentional denial of her arguments only further enraged the girl, jabbing a finger accusingly at the pathetic man in the avian's hand.
"You are the ones who willingly sacrifice hundreds of lives for your sick experiments! You are the ones who work your way into our homes, and our lives, and destroy the people from within! My village may have been spared from your genocide, but I've heard more than enough stories of what you're capable of to know you cannot be trusted, let alone let go!"
"M-mercy! Mercy upon me! I cannot deal with this! I'm a recent inductee! I didn't know it would be like this, I swear! I'm just an appreciator of the magic arts! I-it's not my fault I possess a fascination with necromancy, h-honest!
"Oh, you would say such a cowardly thing, wouldn't you?! I swear, when I get my hands around your throat, I will throttle you so hard every acolyte of your organization will feel it!"
Ulbert, thankfully, chose that moment to clear his throat. "Perhaps we should take a step back a moment, hmm? Speak calmly and, one at a time, so that we do not devolve into such redundant arguments. You are quite literally pointing the blame at another, young girl, which does little favors for your case."
"Plus, I just want answers, not ideological arguments. Though, given who I'm asking, you two seem very much opposed in your beliefs," Dynamite commented dryly, unnaturally serious now. "Let's start with Zuranon first, since he's the most willing to talk. Now, why are you here specifically?"
"I-I-um, my seniors wanted me to come along, s-said that it would be g-good to understand the nature of our goals! S-said I was untested blood, that I needed t-to understand the weight of what I was g-gonna do."
"And what exactly did that mean to you?"
Here, the inductee hesitated, glancing between Peroroncino and his friends, to the girl who was currently attempting to burn holes into his skull with her glare. He sighed, perhaps realizing there was no easy way out without incriminating himself.
"I-We were tasked by my Executive, Raksus, to scout out p-potential villages to convert i-into undead. H-he's been so agitated lately, his f-friend, another executive named K-Khajit, recently passed. He's taken it h-hard…"
After that, the inductee said no more, dangling helplessly and avoiding their eyes. Peroroncino grunted. "Okay, now what about those two, Dynamite? I don't think this guy will say more 'til we get back home. Probably it would be better to interrogate him there with Nubo's help."
"Yeah, I suppose so. So what about you two? Why are you guys here?" Dynamite asked.
"…My friend and I came here looking for answers, hoping to satisfy my curiosity about someone I cared about, nothing more. That we came upon Zuranon here is happenstance," the girl muttered, defiantly meeting Dynamite's inquisitive gaze.
"We rather seem to be in the market for coincidences, my dear," Ulbert joked, "And as of yet, you were quick to the draw to begin verbally abusing the member of Zuranon here. You serve someone with a peculiar name, one who goes by the name of the Weeping King. Am I correct to assume that your groups are deadlocked in opposition?"
Damn, I guess Ulbert's been putting in the work for his self-education. Has he been inhaling dictionaries over the last few weeks, I swear he's never spoken quite like this before. It might also be him leaning too hard into the role-playing too. Might need to talk about that.
The girl tried to readjust herself, but she found little leeway in Ulbert's magical grip, so she settled for just quietly seething. "Yes, I do. He's the one that the Knights I serve with and I pay homage to. He'd been gone for a long time before that, maybe centuries from what I've been told, and only recently came back."
"Oh? And where has he been all this time? Surely, he would not think to abandon you so carelessly and then reappear as if out of the fine mist."
"I… I can't say. My group and I recently were attacked and nearly destroyed by mercenaries. Our lord has come back, yes, but he still has his duties to attend to, so I don't get to see him often."
"Do you at least know where he's at then?" Peroroncino decided to jump in so that he could feel like he was contributing something to the conversation.
For the first time since the conversation started, the girl's hard and angry shell began to crack as she floundered a bit with her answer. "He is mysterious and unknown, even to us. Our previous leader never even got the chance to meet him, and he appointed me as the new leader of his Knights. It's not for me to understand his methods or meaning."
"In other words, you don't know where he is then. You said no one had seen him in centuries? He's pretty old then, right? Not to mention you said that death lord or whatever was your bodyguard, so this 'Weeping King' has some power and resources to sling around for sure."
"Is he undead?" Dynamite asked, some of her playful nature coming back. "We won't kill him, provided he doesn't attack us, but he's one of the first intelligent undead we've heard about not affiliated with Zuranon, so getting to know him could be useful. Maybe we could reach an arrangement of some kind?"
"Or we could partake of any tales you have regarding him since it is evident you have not had much time to speak in length with one another," Ulbert offered.
"D-do not listen to what she would say, noblemen! S-she is brainwashed by her order's lies about nobility and heroism! Anything she would t-tell you is either a lie or a gilded story of her group's origins!" The inductee suddenly cried out, reinvigorated by the change in topic.
"Do you not understand the meaning of shut up?! It is you who has been brainwashed, hoping to join a clan of monsters and psychopaths to transform the living world into undead minions! The mission of the Knights is noble, since we rescue the downtrodden and disillusioned of the world, saving them from the likes of you!"
"S-sirs, please, understand their p-patron is one of the demon gods! Those who destroyed the human world two centuries ago! O-our own master has told us so, for he has witnessed it himself."
"Ha! You would be likely to lump the Weeping King in with that band of marauders. Not one of the mindless demon gods would ever think to create an organization of Knights to protect and serve the innocent, not as our lord has. Please, I'll gladly clear up the confusion for you, noblemen, if you merely shut up this horrid man."
"Sounds good to me. That's what I wanted to hear anyway. Pero, if you would please," Dynamite gestured to the member of Zuranon. He got her meaning and immediately grasped his hand over the inductee's mouth
The young man screamed against his hand and even tried to bite his palms. His teeth slid harmlessly off, but it left an odd tickling sensation that the thunderbird archer decided he didn't like.
Yeah, I'm gonna look forward to Nubo rooting around for answers in your head if you keep trying to bite me like that.
"Now that I have your assurances that you'll speak freely, how about you start from the ground up? Who are you, people?" The harpy mage asked sweetly, almost too sweetly. He could see a bit of her beak begin to peak past her lips.
The girl nodded with satisfaction. "First, a proper introduction. My name is Tsuareninya Veryon, and this is my companion, Hannibal. We came here to search for answers about why this village was so important to the previous leader of my organization, Destrus Desmodus."
"Have any luck with that so far?"
"All I've been able to learn is that this was his home village and that he was once a conscript in the Re-Estize and Baharuth annual war. He managed to save all the other young men of his village by being strong enough to equal them by himself."
Dynamite whistled. "Damn! Sounds like he was a real bruiser if he could do that. That kinda reminds me of that guy that Momonga and the others met. What was his name? It was Gazef or something, right?"
"Yeah, getting back on track though, why is this member of Zuranon so insistent about the Weeping King being a 'demon god'? If you're to be believed, I'd agree demon gods don't necessarily make outreach groups."
Gritting her teeth, Tsuareninya gave the three of them a patient smile that was boarding on strained. Peroroncino made a mental note to limit his description of her leader or sovereign or whatever as a "demon god" in the future.
"Because he happened to come into conflict with the thirteen heroes of legend, the ones who rode out on a great crusade against the demon gods to stop their massacre of the world and everything that lives in it. I do not know the exact details of all of it, but it was not until near the tail end of their journey that both groups fought. Until that point, His Majesty never associated with the demon gods or partook in their debaucherous massacres."
"Since our group's very founding, he installed within us the principles of honor and battle comradery that should be expected of a pack of wolves, as he puts it. He passed on the tradition of uplifting the weak and making them strong, fighting against the unrighteous and unfair. We may use undead to bolster our ranks, but we are not controlled by them, or live in fear of them."
"Be that as you may, what is your group's ultimate end goal then?" Ulbert hummed, drumming his fingers against his arms while they were crossed.
Tsuareninya blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Humor me, if but for a moment, about my question. You make very good claims about emboldening others and strengthening them, but I am left to wonder what your group vision is. Such a task is very noble, but it's left very vague, almost as if you're left to figure it out yourselves. To that end, why go through so much trouble to help others, unless you truly are so altruistic?"
"You sounded like A.O. for a second there, man. Has he been tutoring you recently?" Dynamite asked with a small bit of wonder in her voice.
Ulbert shrugged. "I only aim to think more critically. We have no idea of the true goals of this girl other than what she told us, and just taking her at her word is dangerous. Perhaps I should speak with him more so that I might become better at the process."
"We are that altruistic!" The young woman blurted, cutting off their side conversation. "What does it matter if our 'vision' is vague to you? What if that was how it was intended to be so that we might take matters into our own hands and mold them into something stronger? We'd be following our lord's teachings more precisely!"
Peroroncino nodded in agreement. "Sure, I suppose that's what it could be. Even still, from our point of view, it just appears very suspicious. We're not from around here, exactly, so what you've told us is a lot to take in all at once."
"Ah, foreign nobles then. I should've guessed that may be the case with you three," Tsuareninya sighed. "That would make sense as to why you did not recognize the name of the demon gods when they were mentioned. You have a lot of history to catch up on if you're to live here for an extended period."
"Wait for a second, nobles? We're not-" Dynamite began to say, only to have Ulbert's gloved hand slap over her mouth.
"That does have a nice way of rolling off the tongue. It is a title which I approve of, and which I feel suits us perfectly fine," the demonic player said with a puff of his chest and squaring of his shoulders.
The harpy looked suitably pissed, and Peroroncino rolled his eyes while Ulbert basked in the young woman's assessment of who they were. As wrong as it may be, the thunderbird archer did take a minor bit of pride in his choice of clothing to make Tsuareninya think they were nobles of a far-off land.
He coughed into his hand to break the moment. "So where did these demon gods come from then? Did they just drop out of the sky and suddenly decide they needed to wreck everything?"
It was meant as a joke, a way to alleviate the tension that was making Tsuaraninya's shoulders about ready to launch from her body. Fortunately, it worked, since she did let out an airy laugh.
"For all we know, they might as well have. I'd only heard bits and pieces of the story over the years, from traveling tradesmen and my parents before I joined the Knights. Many of the stories are fragmented, but the general agreement is that they were beings of extraordinary power, weaker than the four gods but still gods in their own right. They are the reason why both the Re-Estize Kingdom and Baharuth Empire wage war since they once used to be the same. They were shattered by the meddling of those horrid demons."
"Sounds to me like the demon gods were more alike to mindless animals then."
"Given their disposition towards indiscriminate genocide of all races, that is not so hard to believe. It's only because of the thirteen heroes, some of which I'm told are still alive to this day, that they were able to be defeated, all save one."
That caught Peroroncino's interest. "They couldn't kill one? Was that one of a special variety or power above the rest?"
Disappointingly, Tsuareninya could only shake her head. "I couldn't honestly tell you. That tidbit by itself is only rumored, probably some dramatic flourish to an old bard's storytelling. One of the weapon masters who taught me did say that in the stories he heard, there was always a 'Dragon God' involved. If he is the last one the thirteen heroes couldn't kill, then the name leaves much to the imagination."
That it does. I almost feel like I'm back in Yggdrasil getting important background lore for some quest or major event. It's a bit lackluster compared to what some of the quest givers in-game would give, but at least it's not super exposition-filled.
Of course, this was a real person he was dealing with. He couldn't expect her to know everything about the world and those who lived in it. Based on what she said, he guessed she may have been a farm girl before she became a warrior, so her knowledge would've been significantly less than most other people if she never left her family farm a day in her life.
That also made him think about the series of events that would lead a peasant girl to become an undead commanding leader of martial warriors. Perhaps, if they crossed paths again one day, he would have to ask for her entire life story, provided she was willing to explain it all to him.
Ah well, his friends and he got an interesting bit of background for the world they lived in now. He was sure that Grievous would be pleased to add it to the archive of information he was compiling.
Ancient One and Punitto Moe will want to hear the stuff we've heard about the demon gods and their part in shaping the world around them. That Weeping King character gives me some strange vibes. He and that story might be evidence of players from the past too.
Dynamite must have been reading his thoughts, since she pursed her lips and said, "Well, I don't think you're a threat, for the time being at least. I can't say the same for the Zuranon guy though, but we'll get all the answers we need from him soon enough."
"Some of that 'battlefield wisdom' coming into play here, Dynamite?" Ulbert asked.
"Maybe a little. She just doesn't strike me as someone who would be willing to try and slaughter a whole village of people. Call it a hunch, but if she had a death lord with her as a guard, she could've just as easily ordered it to kill everyone as she did to protect herself."
She pointed towards the man named Hannibal, who had remained completely silent the whole time and just watched the ensuing conversation. "Plus he strikes me as the quiet and brooding type. I don't think he would tell us anything more different than her if he bothered to speak that is. We'll let them go. Ulbert, could you?"
The odd couple was gently deposited by Ulbert's ethereal hands, who dusted themselves off. The baphomet demon walked off a few meters, where he raised a hand to the air in front of him.
"[Gate]" he spoke, the familiar swirling vortex of obsidian appearing before him. Tsuareninya's eyes widened, while Hannibal raised an eyebrow in surprise. Some extra gasps prompted Peroroncino to look over towards where the mouth of the cavern was, seeing that they had accumulated a small audience of curious villagers.
None of them dared to get closer, but they whispered among themselves in a mixture of fear and wonder at the display of magic. Perhaps they did not have mages regularly come by?
"…Thank you for hearing us out, and for sparing us as well," Tsuareninya said appreciatively. She pointed with her chin towards the Zuranon member, who thrashed in Peroroncino's grip. "Make sure he gets what he deserves. If a death spiral has truly happened in E-Rantel, then he and his entire organization have much to answer for."
Dynamite gave her a thumbs up. "He's pretty much ours now. Unless we turn him loose, there is no chance in hell he'll ever escape where we're taking him. Plus, I think we have the perfect punishment in mind."
"As a side note, we'll send one of our own who specializes in geomancy to handle any collateral damage that seeped through our friend's spell. It is the least we could do for these people," Ulbert elected to say.
With that, Peroroncino and his friends went through the portal, ending up exactly in front of the Tomb entrance. They'd need to use their guild rings to get into the deeper levels of Nazarick.
The thunderbird archer tightened his grip ever so slightly when he felt the Zuranon member in his grasp start trying to bite his palms again. That was enough to get him to stop fully.
Yeah, I think I'd take this a thousand times over having to try and manage the mess that is my feelings. One day, Shalltear, I promise we'll sit down and talk, but today is not that day.
Tsuaraninya and Hannibal watched quietly as the three noblemen left through the magical portal that was nearly identical to the one in the Fortress. She never took her eyes off the display of powerful magic, even as the villagers began to filter into the cavern and attempted to ask the pair what exactly happened.
Their voices were a backdrop in her rampaging thoughts, which themselves seemed incoherent. They steadily grew louder, becoming a mental roar that was just her trying to make sense of what she saw and come to terms with it.
In her mind, one thought did manage to stand above the rest, both in its incredibility and sheer ridiculousness. For that reason, that meant there was no greater truth to be had.
There are people of similar power to the Weeping King… Like him, they too may be gods, or at least have god-like power. But why here then? Why were they here?
She collapsed to her knees, having lost the strength to continue standing any longer. Hannibal moved to help her, but she held a hand up to stop him.
"I'm fine, thank you," she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking too badly. "I think my nerves just got the better of me, but you seem to be handling yourself fine."
Hannibal grinned sheepishly at her, but she got his meaning all the same. Her head flooded with an onslaught of feelings at quite possibly having her closest brush with death thus far, she made it back to her feet and attempted to stand as confidently as she could.
Her conversation with them was… illuminating at least, even if she did not necessarily learn much about them. She kicked herself for not trying to flip the conversation around and try to investigate their origins beyond that they were foreigners. If they were enemies of Zuranon, then they were sure friends of hers.
The next time she came across them, she'd be sure to offer an alliance. Granted, she wasn't sure what she could offer such wealthy and powerful noblemen, but perhaps having a shared enemy in Zuranon might be enough to get them to consider it.
That should be within my abilities as a leader, right? I'll need to bring it up with the other weapon masters and elders, but I should be able to forge agreements.
"Are you alright, miss? Miss? Miss, are you hurt at all? Miss!"
Tsuare finally focused back on her immediate surroundings, turning to meet the concerned gaze of what she assumed to be a prominent member of the village. He was a balding, somewhat overweight man with a mighty beard, well beyond the prime of his life.
She inclined her head in greeting. "Sorry about that, I was a bit lost in my thoughts for a moment. I'm sorry if we stirred up trouble with our presence."
"It felt like a damn earthquake rocked through the entire village, miss! It wasn't until we heard an explosion and saw the cavern shake that most of us came running. Just what happened here?"
"If I tried to tell you, I don't think you'd be able to believe me," she said with a disarming smile. "Might I ask if you're the chieftain of this village?"
The man puffed up his chest, proud of being recognized. "Of course, miss! I have led this village for over thirty years and thought I'd seen just about everything in my life. Until today, that is… Are you with those noblemen we saw disappear through magic?"
"I'm afraid not. Like you, today was the first day my friend and I saw those noblemen as well."
"Bah! And here I was hoping we could strike a deal of some kind! One of my own spoke about how he received a gold coin from one of them, just for talking to them! I thought maybe we could interest them in some trade goods while they were here, but it seems that opportunity passed."
An idea came to Tsuare then. "Speaking of opportunity, could we perhaps speak in private? I might have a proposition for you to consider if you would hear me out."
The chieftain glanced her up and down, raising an eyebrow at her. "Have you now? I'm not sure what a fledgling like yourself could offer the village and me, but why not? Follow me back to my house and we can talk there."
Seems I still haven't mastered the art of confidence, if I'm still being called a fledgling. It's not exactly inaccurate, but I don't know if I should feel insulted or understood.
In short order, Tsuare and Hannibal were led out of the cavern and past the assembled villagers. They stared after her with curious and distrusting eyes. Their stares left a prickling sensation on the back of Tsuare's neck.
Hannibal stayed close to her back, his great size providing comfort that no one will be able to sneak up on her. The loss of the death lord at the hands of the noblewoman was considerable and lessened her defense and offense all at once.
If there were any more members of Zuranon lurking in the village, then it truly would be just her and Hannibal. She didn't like those odds very much, not when she didn't have her usual armor.
Heatstriker clung to her waist as a reminder that she was not entirely defenseless, just as much as Hannibal was. It was strange to think about, given she did not know Hannibal for very long, but she was beginning to trust him. His "actions speak louder than words" policy he seemed to use was probably what endeared her to him. Not to mention that, like her, he had been trapped in a situation that he believed he would never escape, only to be rescued from his captors.
We share that in common. We were both enslaved, in a way. He didn't have to tell me in words, but finding out he was a forceful conscript for the Deathspreading Brigade was all I needed to confirm my suspicions.
They eventually reached the chieftain's house, which was a humble home that appeared no different from any other house in the village. Despite his earlier pride, Tsuare noticed a sort of humility in his living conditions, which she approved.
Sitting at a table, the chieftain laid both hands flat on the table, smiling at a plump woman the leader of the Knights assumed to be his wife. "Dear, would you get the miss and her friend here a drink, please? Something for me as well."
She nodded and scurried off to the kitchen to do as she asked. The chieftain adopted a more serious expression when he turned back to Tsuare, "Now, what's this about a proposition you have for me? You're not connected to noblemen, so I'm not expecting any sort of trading, but you do bear the markings of a warrior, as green as you may be."
"… I know Destrus personally," Tsuare said after a moment of collecting her thoughts and deciding how she wanted to start the conversation.
The chieftain's eyes lit up. "Ah! Do you know our village hero? It's been decades since the last time we heard from him, which was right before he went off to fight again in the annual war. Though, forgive my curiosity, how did you come to know him, a spry, youthful thing like yourself?"
"He helped to rescue me from… unsavory individuals. I thought I'd never be able to walk freely again until he came along and saved me. I was under his care for the past year or so, training under his and his comrades' tutelage."
"Oh, that does my heart glad to hear he's still alive! You really should tell the right bastard to write us a letter every so often," the chieftain said with a booming laugh. "To think he was barely a man when he was left, and now he's our village's honor. I'm sure he's in fine health, knowing the strength he had even as a lad."
Unfortunately, Tsuare couldn't help to wince, which was exasperated when the wife set down their drinking mugs right in front of them. She was holding one herself, beaming at the young girl with a jubilant grin.
"…I'm sorry to say, but that's not entirely the case," she started somberly, "Destrus Desmodus is dead."
The silence that filled the air thereafter was punctuated by the harsh clattering of the wife's mug as she dropped it in shock. Seeing the older woman's lip quiver with denial and anguish almost broke something inside Tsuare.
To the husband's credit, he took it in stride. Though, he did make a show of cleaning out his ear with his pinky, as if he hadn't quite heard what she said.
"Forgive me for doing that, but I wanted to make sure I understood that correctly. Did you just tell me that our little Destrus, who had single-handedly saved the entire population of men in this village by being equal to their combined strength, is dead?"
As much as she wished she could jump up and yell "Surprise!", she knew that truth was crueler than any joke or misunderstanding she could think up. She sadly nodded in affirmation, unable to speak.
With that, the wife crumbled into a nearby chair next to her husband, sobbing into her hands. The chieftain held her closely, not crying as she did but grieving all the same.
"This… I don't know what to make of this. I almost want to say you're lying, that you're some troublemaker who came here to stir up trouble, but a small part of me can't help but realize you're telling the truth. Not to mention that while Destrus is strong, he was not well known. Any legacy he might've had would've been overshadowed by the Chief Warrior of Re-Estize, Gazef Stronoff."
The chieftain's face hardened. "Which means that the only way someone would know of his death would be that they either knew him and were there when he died, or they were the ones who killed him themselves."
"I assure you, sir, that I am not the one to have killed him if that's what you're implying."
"Ha! Hardly, given how small you are and the fact you have a bodyguard with you. You may have some experience under your belt if you were trained by our Destrus, but you don't strike me as the type to be able to defeat him, even if he handicapped himself."
His comment stung Tsuare's pride a bit, but she knew it was the wholehearted truth. Despite her efforts to become stronger, she knew never in a thousand lifetimes that she would ever become as strong as someone like the former Knights' leader. That would require a higher power to bestow upon her such a blessing, which she was not liable to receive anytime soon.
"Alright miss, now what's this proposition of yours? You bring ill news, especially given what we recently learned happened with E-Rantel and the ongoing riots in Re-Estize. I hope that it's well worth it."
"Speaking without bias, I think it is. Destrus Desmodus represented a group of warriors when he was still alive, a group that I now lead since he is no longer with us. I am Tsuareninya Veryon of the Knights of the Weeping King, and I would like your village to join us."
Tsuare paused then, giving the chieftain and his wife a moment to absorb what she just said. She wasn't expecting them to recognize the name of the Knights, since they had been so well secluded. When she saw their blank looks, she kept going.
"We are a collection of warriors, scholars, and magicians, and recent events have encouraged myself-us to start reaching out to nearby villages and try to recruit them, to bolster our numbers, and to find solidarity among friends," she said.
"You're in a village of farmers, Miss Tsuareninya, not warriors. Destrus was our sole exception, but with the youth being as energetic as they are these days, they could be taught a little discipline…" The chieftain rubbed his chin in thought.
Then he scowled. "Though it's just as likely they'd all run off with dreams of fortune and glory! We've had our fair share of them already do so, given the status of our late Destrus. That being said, we can't spare any extra men to join a band of mercenaries, nor do I think we could even afford your rates."
Tsuare held up both hands in a backpedaling motion. "N-nothing like that sir! I don't want any money of yours, just an alliance! This place meant a lot to Destrus, even if he hadn't come back in many years. He kept a map of this place in his quarters, a reminder of home I'm sure. I came here to discover what this place was to him originally, but now that I've learned the truth about it, I think there's an opportunity to be had!"
"You would ask for an alliance of this village without any sort of cost or even any understanding of what it is we could offer you? That seems convenient. It also sounds too good to be true. Why would you go out of your way beyond Destrus to make peace with us? Is it just because it's easier that way, or is it because there is another goal to be had here?"
"Couldn't it be both?"
"Sure, I don't see why not, but even still, I'd think there's more to it than just friendship. If your group are warriors and mages, then what do you hope to achieve by allying with farmers?"
Again, Tsuare had to stop and think about what her answer was since she was intentionally holding back on revealing everything. Given the last village of people she saved from slavers and their reaction to the undead she employed, she didn't think there was a very high chance that this village would react kindly either.
More on that, but she guessed that any mention of the undead would be akin to shooting herself in the knee with an arrow. She'd effectively cripple any sort of positive relationship with people she had no hand in otherwise saving.
It was a bit underhanded to rely on the notion of being owed a debt, but the Knights and their practices of using the undead were not exactly smiled upon. Actually… maybe she could use that to her advantage, given what just happened in the cavern.
She sighed, realizing what she needed to say. "Because, unfortunately, your village is no longer safe. Have you ever heard of a group known as Zuranon?"
"I can't say I have, no," the chieftain creased his eyebrows. "It seems I was right to assume there was more to this proposition of yours."
From there, Tsuare began to fill in as many details as she could while omitting the true nature of the Knights themselves. Admittedly, she only knew second-hand knowledge from the elders, weapon masters, and Destrus himself. Her encounter with the four members of the necromantic order was enough to reinforce the danger they represented.
The eyes of the chieftain and his wife widened in horror as she described their rituals and agenda, how they insidiously inserted themselves into unknowing cities and towns, slowly ingraining their presence among the higher echelons of trust and leadership. How, over time, those of Zuranon kidnapped unwilling participants for unholy experiments.
The added news of E-Rantel's downfall at their hands through the use of a death spiral was told to the village leadership as well. By the time she was finished, they were pale like corpses.
"So you mean to tell us that members of such a hideous group were among us in the village," the chieftain asked, a tremble to his voice. "And if things match up, they are the ones responsible for destroying the entirety of E-Rantel."
"You and I both know that the city was a stronghold, which stood between Re-Estize and Baharuth. It should not have been destroyed so easily unless Zuranon had been infiltrating it for years."
The atmosphere of the room was potently grim. "You said 'solidarity among friends', didn't you Miss Tsuare? If everything you have said about this Zuranon group is true, about the danger they present and the fact they were here in the village only minutes ago… perhaps there is more merit to your proposal than I thought.
The chieftain sighed, seeming to age another thirty years. "I'll speak with some of the other village elders first, get their opinions on things. They're of a similar mind to me though, since we've worked together very closely all these years. If you can offer protection with your 'Knights', the people that our Destrus used to lead, then I think the people will be behind this alliance you offer."
He stood up out of his chair, Tsuare doing the same. The two of them shook hands, unofficially sealing the deal until the other village elders could be consulted. A sense of peace washed away the dark feelings of the room, and Tsuare brightened the room just a bit by smiling.
It's not exactly a blood conquest, but I think this is a good outcome as well, my lord. Wherever you are, I hope you're watching what I'm doing closely, and that I'm making you proud.
Elsewhere, in the ruins of Inveria
What a colossal disappointment this entire venture has become. I should've killed them all when I had the chance, rather than spare them their fate.
Or that's what the darker aspect of the Weeping King thought privately to himself, sitting on a rock and looking over a desolate valley beneath him. It was strangely soothing, being near the edge of a sheer cliff and seeing the ruins of an ancient village. The sight reminded him of the good old days, nearly two hundred years ago.
In his great boredom, he tried to imagine what the village might have looked like, once upon a time. Was it a humble farming village, filled with nothing but peasants? Was it a war camp, churning out great slayers to partake in their conquests? Maybe it had been nothing at all, simply a place of refuge for the world-weary to spend the remainder of their days in relative peace.
The tip of his sword bit deeper into the earth as he exerted more pressure on it. Now even older memories were beginning to surface of his past, a bygone age of glory and adventure. If he were capable, he would have smiled.
He recalled a great bonfire, surrounded by his companions while they drank ale and ate roasted meat off the flame. They shared stories of battle, defeating horrendous monsters and powerful warlords.
There were great bonds of brotherhood he shared among some of their numbers, as equally strong as the disgust others held for him. In those days, an all-encompassing shadow had fallen on him, casting everything he held dear into darkness.
All of his achievements were washed from history! He became nothing, nobody! There was no legacy with which to remember himself, no odes or epics to his name, no offerings granted to his incredible memory, or even credit to any of the foes he vanquished.
"It should've been me that was remembered, not those scum-sucking bottom feeders," he grumbled roughly. Tendrils of shadow crept out from his boots, cracking the earth from his black rage.
It was built and built, proportional to the offenses done against his name over the centuries. The rock he sat upon crumbled from the strength of his aura, exuding from him in waves, and the already dead grass disintegrated to dust.
It was not his Aura of Despair, but rather something he developed himself once he ascended past his previous limits, limits imposed upon him by his avatar body. Yggdrasil, despite its shutdown, had retained a heavy grasp upon him and others like himself.
If it hadn't been for him I never would have realized my true potential, my true worth in this world. It is only because of him that I was able to stick it to those I thought were my friends. What a worthless lot they ended up becoming.
The world itself shied away from his power, the very ground continuing to shatter from the full weight of his presence. When he stood up from the rock, it fully cracked and was reduced to rubble.
He grunted with satisfaction, seeing how even at only a fraction of the power granted to him, he could cause such a disturbance in the world. It reminded him of the progress he made since he broke his limits on that fateful day he ran into the object of his desire.
With his help, he took his destiny by the throat, becoming the very being he was today. The evil deities that plagued the land at the time of his arrival were mere ants to be crushed by his boot.
No one was able to stand in his way! Not the collective races, not the dragon lord that had stood among the thirteen, and sure as hell not that pathetic, hypocritical, sniveling weakling he called brother once!
I was even better than a wolf! I was a dragon, and the rest of my former comrades were sheep before me! Curse my sense of inadequacy for not being able to finish the job and slay them, and curse Tsa for driving me off in the end!
When he began to feel the dirt shift beneath his feet, that's when he shut off his enhanced aura. He would hate to allow it to keep active and then accidentally fall down the cliff side just because he couldn't reign in his rage.
On days like that, he wished he had kept an emotional inhibitor like the one who taught him how to surpass his limits. It would allow him to control the output of his power. Soon, when convergence came along and his teacher could enter the world fully, then the Weeping King would see if perhaps he could recreate his inhibitor, able to turn it on and off at will.
To that end, he knew that there was still much to learn under his master's tutelage, as he eagerly awaited his arrival in the continent of Olari, the same continent he was in himself. Trying to keep himself busy for the last two hundred years while he waited proved a tiring task.
But, as it turned out, I could not do much anyways without revealing myself. I could not risk running across an enemy guild that would overwhelm me through sheer numbers. At least my World Item remains safe, guarded by the lesser servants of my mentor.
The sound of crunching dirt behind him caused the Weeping King to look over his shoulder, seeing a lich approach him. Unlike the typical garb of regular undead, which was a dreary affair, this particular member wore a white cloak as a symbol of the one it served. The cloth was white like wax, the same color as the skin of its own master.
"I did not think Granz would send for me so soon," The god of the Knights grumbled, "I take it that she has finished her preparations with that oversized corpse and is ready to move out?"
"No, sire, that is not to be the case," the lich responded in a hoarse tone, "Rather, I am here as he is summoning you from your mirror. He is quite eager to hear of your progress regarding that personal project of yours."
That took the Weeping King by surprise. His flaming eyes flickered as he realized the full implications of what his summoning meant. "But it's been so long… By this point, it's been nearly a hundred and fifty years since last we spoke, and that was to complete my training. If he is calling for me…"
"Your meeting will be soon, in the physical sense. I would not keep him waiting, for you know how impatient he can become when he makes a personal request."
"Yes, yes, I know. That idiot Zaral hasn't been summoned to meet with him either, has he? I have too much on my mind already, and I don't want what should be a joyous occasion to be soured by that shitstain."
"Zaral Bonehead was not called for, sire. He is already too drunk on his gift of souls to make it fashionably anyhow. The others saw to that so that there was no interference with the body of your latest conquest."
If the Weeping King could smirk, he would've. "Thank you for fetching me. Be sure to give Granz and the others my thanks. You are dismissed."
With a deep bow, the white-robed lich began to trek back down the way it came up the cliff. It was unfortunate that the creature did not have access to an [Gate] of its own, which meant Granz was even busier than he thought if she couldn't be bothered to send her servant through a [Gate].
Reaching into his pocket, the Weeping King pulled out his Magic Mirror, the miniature item expanding into a jagged, cracked portal roughly his size. Like a regular [Gate], it would take him instantly to any destination he had in mind, provided he didn't let it get destroyed or lost.
Briefly, he contemplated calling the lich back so that he could offer it an easier way back to its master. He made his decision when he walked through the Magic Mirror without saying a word.
On the other side, the item folded back up and floated back into his pocket, having safely deposited the ancient player to where he needed to be. All around him was an expansive cavern, filled to the brim with great riches and mountains of gold. A myriad of relics dotted the sea of wealth, gathered over many centuries.
This was just the entrance to the area, a mirage to hide the true treasures that were hidden further in the back. It would seem Godenth the Eternal was slumbering today, her unimaginable bulk obscured by the deep darkness of her home and her horde.
He did not care. He could let the multi-headed brute choke in her sleep. No, the real prize was directly in front of him, left standing on a solid gold dais fit for a god. It rose out of the gold like an island, a place of refuge from the endless currents of greed that surrounded the Weeping King.
Upon that dais was an enchanted full-length mirror, not unlike a scrying mirror used by divination players back in Yggdrasil. What separated this particular piece from those was that it had been created using the old magics, primordial mana that could only be summoned by beings such as the last True Dragon Lords left in the world.
The magic infused into it granted incredible properties, not only allowing the user to scry to other places but entirely different times. It could gaze beyond the physical realm, transcending time and space to peer into a place far grander than present reality.
It also allowed two-way viewing from both ends, which is how the undead sovereign saw the object of his desires, his twin king of ruin.
With a hallowed gait, the Weeping King ascended that mountain of gold, standing before the mirror on the dais and kneeling. He was all grins, metaphorically speaking, unable to contain his excitement at finally seeing his mentor after all these years.
"I cannot believe it. To think that you are finally able to speak with me again. It has been far too long, old friend."
"As it has been for you, my disciple. I trust that you are well?" A noble and ancient voice, one befitting a king, asked. The Weeping King sighed in joy at hearing that baritone once again.
"Of course, of course! I've anticipated this day for a century and a half! That you can speak to me now means that convergence is nearly upon us, does it not? Soon, you will arrive in Olari and join me?"
"In due time. To traverse through the Sea of Possibilities as I do is no simple ordeal. My very essence must wade through the raw power of creation itself."
Giddiness seeped out into the rest of the Weeping King's body, deciding to look up so that he could gaze at his mentor in all his incredible glory. He couldn't help himself, not when his ultimate goal was that close.
From what he saw in the mirror, his mentor was dressed in elaborate, volcanic glass academic robes befitting someone of his race. They were edged with violet and gold, and the pauldrons were shaped like ribs and outfitted with emerald gems enhancing his majesty.
On each finger was a magnificent, jeweled ring, easily worth more than entire kingdoms. In his left hand was a scepter of gold, the top inlaid with seven divine-tier gems of extraordinary power.
The front of his robes was open, exposing polished ribs and a hovering orb of green crystal the same shade as the gems in his pauldrons. Behind his mentor's head, he could see a dark halo encircling his brow, a wreath of souls flowing from it.
Tiny pin-pricks of emerald fire stared down at the Weeping King's kneeling form, the eyes of a sorcerous king who held no limits to his power. He radiated amusement, likely sensing the lesser undead's happiness.
Then, the Weeping King stood up fully, bracing a fist against his chest plate. His fiery eyes flared with his next words, readily revealing his fervor.
"Only someone such as yourself could dare to travel through dimensions as you do, Lord Ainz. Long live the Sorcerer King!"