Chapter 8
Somewhere among the branches of the Yggdrasil
A deafening explosion greeted the slime's nonexistent ears, together with the distant sounds of people yelling. Nazarick's Throne Room shook for the first time in its history soon after he appeared right in the middle of it.
"Something's very wrong!"
Momonga texted me I had to come here asap just like everyone else… Still, when I asked what this was about, he didn't even reply!
"Alright, let's just enter the [Group message] although I'm quite sure we're being attacked. Unless Gargantua or some weird experiment of Tabula is on a rampage…"
A familiar voice pierced his erars. "Fuck, these accursed invaders are stubborn! Somebody start digging behind enemy lines! They're growing too bold!"
Why is Punitto Moe always yelling lately? he groaned internally. Since the Oshikuru incident, the tentacular vines could never keep himself calm! Though I guess it's only right now that we're being raided…
The sound of rapid footsteps from behind caused him to turn around, only to see a familiar white face.
"Temperance, my man, what's going on? Sounds like a real war is taking place up there!" And waved at his friend.
The player responded cheerfully as excitedly swinging Hag's Finger, a divine class scythe-and-staff combo. The sharp sickle blade brightly gleamed in the light of the Throne Room's many chandeliers.
"I suppose we're at war, Hero-hero! Things must looking bad since everyone's been called, but we'll turn it around as usual! Still, I don't know who's attacking us, I only just arrived as well…"
His words were covered by a loud BOOM! shaking the hall once again. The chandeliers started swinging from the ceiling like spiders on crack, almost falling down.
"Guess there's no time to waste. Let's go!"
Their rings of Ainz Ooal Gown glowed lightly and in the blink of an eye they teleported to the surface, where both looked around in search of the enemy.
But soon they understood it was hard to find a direction where they couldn't see any.
Constant bombardments of magic and bullets created craters all around their home, while lightning crackled in the sky above, illuminating behind Helheim's ominous clouds the outlines of mighty warships high up in the atmosphere. Spheres of light off their huge crossbows revealed them to be the source of the projectiles' barrage falling on the ground.
Among them were flying two dragons, one as white as a snowflake, the other of pure gold, breathing a song of ice and fire against the hull of the enemy vessels, trying to burn them down.
The Grenbera swamps were broken and cleaved in two, where artillery was placed to further annihilate the land ahead, both cannons and catapults alike unloading their ammo against the fighting players of Ainz Ooal Gown.
Hordes of human players ran up in scrambled but seemingly endless groups, fighting against inhuman avatars.
Among those the easiest to spot was Peroroncino, whose brilliant golden armor shone as bright as his deadly darts. Blasts of light fueled his dreaded arrows which took down many enemies.
Another hard not to see was the battle maniac Jo-Bro, his oversized saurian form towering on the sea of humanoid players around him. His fists were blurs against the enemies, sending them flying up, beating them down or back into their closest comrades. Whoever managed to escape his scaly hands did not get to land a hit, being swept by the long tail or bitten by the sharp teeth.
HeroHero immediately joined the reptilian player, piloting his huge mecha suit showing an expertise scarcely matched by players of similar builds. The glass orb at the center of its chest housed the slime artificer, with hollow wires delivering his highly acidic essence to the golem-like fists, dealing some devastating damage to the enemy. Every blow melted gear and, and steamed the skin of the unlucky ones who came into direct contact with his fury. "How dare you attack Nazarick, scum!" Those with any sense immediately turned tail as Herohero made a powerful appearance on the battlefield, however most of them bumped into other angry members of Ainz Ooal Gown.
It was a completely mind-melting experience trying to just keep up with all the combat, so much so that Temperance only barely looked up in time to see the edge of a blade coming down at him from an overhead strike. "Die, monster!"
But the unknown foe was sent flying back into another charging group of human players.
"Are you here to stand still waiting to get killed or to actually give a hand?" Suck the Blood and Eat the Flesh was still raised as if Suratan wanted to behead his friend. But the sasquatch would never harm him, despite being a berserker who immediately afterwards screamed a warcry. He broke through the very same group of players he knocked the first warrior into, wildly cutting limbs and heads off the opposing players.
"Aye, try not to be too temperant!" Wish III shouted the pun with a laughter, as he landed beside his guildmate to poke him on the head.
Before the vampire could retaliate, the ever-burning player took off to get back in the fray.
"[Greater Haste]!" His body glowed and moved even faster: the first group of human players he came upon were quite surprised, all of them alarmed as he had seemingly teleported to their position. One of them, a caster from the looks of it, raised his staff.
Oh no you don't! Wish's whip tore asunder the air, slicing the chest of the wizard before his tank could step in to save him. The heavily armored warrior cried out, hefting a long spear in vengeful retaliation. Another strike of the whip wrapped around its shaft, yanking it from his hands and sending it bowling into the nearby ranger and thief. The former was too slow and got knocked off his feet, the latter ducked just in time but backed off.
Evil delight filled the most sadist in Ainz Ooal Gown. "Oi, what's wrong?! I thought you were all eager to attack me and my friends? Where has all your bravery gone?!" Before any of them could reply or flee, he unleashed two consecutive waves of hell fire from the edges of his whips, incinerating the group to a crisp. They all instantly dematerialized and left cloth sacks in their place, the signature death of a player in Yggdrasil.
Wish III doubted there could be anything valuable in the drops of such low-level noobs, so he hastened on to the next ones, doing pretty much the same he just did. However, a mage from further away cast an offensive spell. From the way the air seemed to be sucked in and the gash that came forward, flying straight towards the flaming djinn, he guessed it to be a [Reality Slash].
"What about some friendly fire?" Wish smiled, grabbed another caster and put him in the way of the attack. The poor guy screamed as the high tier magic cleaved him.
The sound of his whips and his crazed laughter filled the battlefield just as much as the screams of the frustrated and dying did. Every crack of his weapons was yet another disarmed player, every blast of hellfire a wave of destruction that scorched the ground. Weaklings. No matter how many are there, it won't be a problem.
Eventually, he carved his way to another of his very best friend, a hearty and welcoming sight amongst the sea of enemies. Ulbert was surrounded by foes, a look of bliss for all those he destroyed and pride for being so much better than them. The clawed hands slashed at those who dared to get too close, and those few who managed to evade the demon's sharp claws were shot streams of molten magma. He gazed happily at his homie.
"I see you've made it to the frontline safe and sound. I trust things haven't been too difficult?" Ulbert asked nonchalantly, his extra limbs grabbing and smashing two players together, flinging them back into their group.
"Please. These noobs? Based on how easily I'm able to manhandle most of them, I guarantee they don't even have a single piece of legendary class gear!" The djinn shouted, flicking his left whip and wrapping it around the ankle of a sneaky human who had raised his black dagger to stab at the distracted baphomet demon.
Wish yanked upwards, throwing the assassin on his ass his and slashing with his other whip to quickly dispose of him. His angry face dematerialized quickly.
Ulbert grinned. "You're right, buddy. Even if this one had got me, that shitty dagger would have probably bounced off! Anyway, did you see Grievous Sin on your way? I swear he was right behind me a moment ago..."
Screams of desperation came from their right side, prompting both players to quickly glance over. A paladin was flailing around, yelling desperately for help as a sheen of viscous worms were slithering all over his armor, burrowing in between the slits. A creature that was essentially a snout, two antennae, twice as many eyes and a mess of wriggling tentacles crawled up the length of the already mangled body, settling in on the his head and biting down. Every worm clamped down at the same time, forming a single mass and constricting until not an inch of the paladin could be seen. Soon after Grievous Sin reformed above the place where his last victim died and quickly joined his guildmates.
Wish and Ulbert smiled while overhead flew several players with the help of wings, spells and items. They zipped through the air, spiraling as vultures above the trio of heteromorphs. They brandished all manner of weaponry, hurling insults and obscenities. Every point was aimed directly at their heads, though all Ulbert and Wish could do was giggle.
"Momonga may have overreacted dragging me here into this without letting me know what was going on, but by God am I glad he did!"
Grievous cleared his throat, seemingly in a disagreement. "What a bother. I would've preferred this be a quiet day, but we can't seem to always get what we want."
Right at that moment, every airborne player roared at once, their battle cry the signal to swoop down and strike at the three with full force.
However, right as they were about to attack, a melody played through the mist and the flying players bounced harmlessly off an invisible wall, surprised and scorned by Ulbert.
"Ah, good. I was wondering when you might show up, Whitebrim!"
The loremaster looked up with a grateful nod.
Wish didn't, actually he complained to the bard. "We don't need any help here against such low-level scum, go get your own hunting grounds, don't steal our preys!"
"YOU ARE THE PREYS HERE!"
The puttering of a small aircraft split the air, descending from the warships to hover above even Whitebrim. At the brow stood a thickly muscled, shirtless human player. Layered armor like a tank covered his lower half, and a helmet with glowing blue eyes sat upon the man's brow.
Tribal tattoos covered every inch of exposed skin, and his armor, oddly, was a glaring hot pink. Designs of roaring new-age musicians were etched into his armor.
Exhaust pipes snaked along the hull and spewed tongues of flame while the new arrival played a heavy metal riff on his guitar, in the shape of a double-headed battle ax. The end of the handle, where the strings were connected, was a dragon's head, which breathed flames each time a crescendo was reached.
"I AM TIGUAR, LEADER OF THE GUILD OF BIKINI BABE WARRIORS!" Another riff came from his guitar and a sickly aura began to cover the heteromorphs. "I HAVE COME FOR THE FILTHY WHITEBRIM! MEET ME, MAN TO BEAST, TO SEE WHO IS THE GREATEST BARD OF THEM ALL!"
Whitebrim huffed in indignation. "Oh? You're challenging me?! As if a brute like yourself could ever appreciate the fine arts! Even an orangutan would turn away from that chalk-board scratch you call music!"
To prove his point, the Solar of Ainz Ooal Gown plucked another melody, reapplying the buff that'd previously been stripped away from his allies. Golden fire raged in his eyes. "Leave this ignorant to me, my friends! The rest of'em are all yours!"Whitebrim snarked, before the two engaged in a battle of buffs and debuffs, classical lyre versus new-age rock and roll.
Every so often, the aerial combatants would drift close together, where they would both stop, flip their weapons around, and swing them at one another to get a strike in. They were either parried or simply dodged, and the miniature war of music raged on as both sides slowly but steadily drifted away. The display awed boths sides temporarily, though the djinn recovered first and lashed out with his whips to take advantage of the stand-still.
"Don't forget about us! You may have started this war, but we're gonna end it!" Wish III said, cracking his whips and unleashing another wave of hellfire.
Fighting on both sides resumed after that, and though the trio of heteromorphs were able to hold their own, they were steadily being pushed back by the ever increasing hordes of enemy players. Their hill was overcome, and the first strike that the wish granter experienced left a glowing wound across his left shoulder.
He growled with frustration. The motherfuckers are just too many.
"I think now would be a good time to retreat. We need to regroup with the others. Do you know where anyone else is?"
"Most of our guild has been separated in the fighting. I was with Touch Me and Momonga when the fighting first started, then I ended up with Grievous here," The demon blocked an arc of lightning using one of his wards and slamming back with kinetic force.
Grievous nodded his head, slashing his four arms in an X formation. He pulled at two bones sticking out of his thighs, yanking out a pair of makeshift blades to stab at his foes with his bottom pair of arms. Then the silent player spoke." Takemikazuchi and Yamaiko were giving support to Garnet and Variable Talisman to the north. The perv and his sister are covering the west together with Nishikienrai and Flatfoot. Lucifer told me he was going to aid Tepas Smith, Nearata and Nubo holding off a wave of their own to the east, the rest of us are here in the south, most of the enemy is coming this way" As he concluded, his worms killed a rogue and a knight who had come too close.
All three were back to back by that point, moving as one towards a more advantageous position. Where that could be, they were not certain, for the battlefield was constantly shifting on account of the raw strength, bombardments, and explosive magic being thrown around.
Wish suffered another wound, this time on his lower calf. His body had partially solidified to take advantage of his own gear, which he'd pulled from his inventory and equipped in the heat of battle, but it was taking too long to fully arm himself for the way too rash player.
A sudden force to his back knocked off balance, causing Grievous to stumble and miss his mark at an enemy archer. When he chanced a glance back, he saw that Ulbert's temporary ward was charged into by a warrior wearing a helmet resembling a unicorn.
Wish released the umpteenth hellfire wave and cursed.
"To hell with this shit! Where the hell is Dynamite! Call her in for some aerial support before we start drowning over here!"
"Already on it!"
The familiar feminine voice called to him, while the sky darkened with the shadows of what looked like arrows. The three looked up, seeing that the objects, in fact, were not arrows, but rather feathers sailing towards them at supersonic speed.
Several of the projectiles embedded either in the ground or directly into the heads and backs of enemy players, who gasped at the onslaught. Those who'd been weakened by the efforts of the heteromorphs dematerialized, leaving behind bags of items and gear in their place.
Those unfortunate enough to not fade away with death were left dealing with the stuck feathers, which sizzled and glowed white-hot.
Dynamite herself, with her signature shit eating grin, flapped down, many more feathers loosening and firing upon the horde.
"And this is always my favorite part. Time for the fireworks, baby! KA-BOOM!" Dynamite thundered, clapping her wings together in a dramatic display. At her command, every single feather combusted into spirals of flame, consuming all those impaled by the sharp edges or cutting off entire pieces of the battlefield. Swaths of enemy players were routed, especially those homing in on Ulbert, Wish III, and Grievous' location.
A brief reprieve, but a much needed one. Wish III chuckled and gave his avian friend a thumbs up.
"Glad to see you swoop in, Firehawk. Been kicking ass and taking names for AOG?" He asked in a jovial tone.
The harpy saluted him with a goofy smile. "You know it! Just an FYI for you guys though: I've been flying around and surveying the battlefield, and I've spotted some world champions lurking around."
Ulbert swore when he heard that. "World champions!? Here? I got the impression this invasion was a bunch of nobodies, even if lots of'em, so who the hell did they get out here that could classify as a world champion? don't tell me it's that vagabond Oshikuru!"
Dynamite's grin faded into a grim line. "I wish it was him behind this, at least he'd be alone, but this is way worse. From what I've seen, there's Lightside, 1Piece and some other guy I've never seen before. I think his username was Szadek, but the one I'm most worried about is Zeus."
That last name earned a collective silence, at least from the heteromorphs. The background noise of their current war hadn't dissipated in the slightest, which only compounded the feeling of dread that Wish III was certain he and his friends all felt.
"This is quite the unfortunate development," Grievous Sin finally remarked, toying with his bony daggers. "I was under the impression that none of the top guilds were taking part in this fight."
"The rest of Illicit Sinners aren't here yet. For now it's just Zeus Enalios and the Olympian Hit Squad. Couldn't tell you where the rest of their guild is," the harpy said.
"Still, I'd rather not run into them without Touch Me." Shit, now even more I wish we hadn't chased after Oshikuru. Not that we ever came close to him, but it sure was a bother to the guy. Even if he didn't join this attack, he surely won't help us now. "Any way we could reach him without dying along the way?" Ulbert asked, for once desiring the Paladin's presence without also seeking to bother him.
Given the circumstances, such rivalries could be justifiably set aside, especially if another extremely powerful world champion was lurking on the battlefield.
Though not everyone in Ainz Ooal Gown got along all the time, Touch Me was still a source of pride for their guild, given his own status as World Champion of Alfheim. Despite the defeat suffered from Oshikuru, who had seemingly disappeared from the nine realms after that, Touch Me had arrived in second place at the official tournament of World Champions. However, that only reminded them of the other eight, far more hostile world champions of the nine realms.
Chief among them was Zeus Enalios, World Champion of Midgard and leader of the sect of Illicit Sinners known as the Olympian Hit Squad, not to mention being the official Yggdrasil champion, though a few knew he had been defeated as well by the demon samurai. Also, Zeus' legendary trident was easily the most revered and feared weapon, save for guild and world class items.
To have him present indicated that something more foul about the raid on their base was afoot, but what it was nobody could guess among them. They were not tacticians like Ancient One or Punitto Moe, or social scientists like Bellriver.
"If Zeus Enalios is really here, then we need to get to Touch Me, pronto," the djinn said, though his words left a bad aftertaste. "Best case scenario, we gather up more of the guild and reach Touch Me. Worst case… I'd really, really prefer not getting speared.
His guildmates grunted in agreement, already scanning the destroyed landscape for said paladin. Off in the distance, the wish granter could see Warrior Takemikazuchi squaring off against another swordsman. They both wore similar samurai armor, but as befitting a nephilim, Takemikazuchi was easily a head taller than his human opponent. In the worlds of Yggdrasil, however, size mattered not, for it was the abilities and equipment of players that won battles. Takemikazuchi bent both knees, gently resting a hand on the handle of his katana, staring down his opponent. Likewise, the other samurai was similarly poised. Neither moved a muscle, or even seemed to breathe.
Then the other samurai lunged. "Yittoryu yai. Shishi Sonson!" he screamed as ripping his blade from its sheath and aiming for the nephilim's neck with a diagonal slash, but still Takemikazuchi did not move. Right as the human was about to relieve him of his head, he slid past, falling to the dirt in two pieces, from shoulder to hip. Takemikazuchi, while in the same position and with a single stroke of his weapon, drew his blade and struck all at once, one-shotting his peer.
In another portion of the fighting, Shizyuutensuzaku was swinging a massive longsword along the edge of his ground, sending waves of icicles and frost to freeze and impale those who drew in too close. One rogue dared to approach him, throwing vials of steaming potions at the undead warlord. He whooped with jubilation and adrenaline, only to be cut off by a massive paw gripping his entire head and squeezing. Immediately, the rogue went limp, and his body was thrown back at his allies as it was disintegrating. But it was the sight of Touch Me and Momonga on a hill who drew Wish III, Ulbert, Grievous and Dynamite's attention most of all.
The powerful overlord, in his majestic, regal robes and rib shaped shoulder guards, floated above the ground as he charged up a spell. Based on how large and intricate the rune circles were that surrounded his undead body, it was likely something to nuke the horde of enemy players that crowded in on all sides. The only thing holding them at bay was Touch Me himself, whose glimmering sword would often cut down those who dared to strike at him, while also blocking and outright parrying other blows in the same motion. At times, the paladin was able to attack from angles that shouldn't have even been possible without a ludicrous amount of speed. Every stroke of his sword was another dead player, and for every head that rolled, another bag of loot added to the mountain of treasure steadily building up around the duo. His armor was a true fortress, his weapons, unrelenting forces of nature, and his will to protect absolute. If ever there was any aspect of the warrior that even Wish and Ulbert could respect, it was the sheer, raw power that Touch Me possessed.
Already the quartet of heteromorphs was making their way to the overlord and insectoid. Any resistance they met along the way was quickly brought down. The players of the invasive guilds may have even all been level one hundreds, some maybe lower, but for sure their equipment and builds were subpar compared to anything Ainz Ooal Gown had to offer. Just as all four of them reached their destination, Momonga's charge time for his spell had completed, the runic circles glowing brighter and spinning far faster than before.
"[Fallen Down]," The overlord invoked, all magic circles rushing into his body at once. In that moment, the closest players' vision was completely engulfed in blinding white light, while groans and cries of frustration raised all around. They imagined the heat would absolutely obliterate any and all without the proper protections, and when the light cleared and the heteromorphs could look around properly, it was just that.
The sea of enemies had been cleared, only pieces of equipment and bags left behind as markers to signify anything was there at all. The earth was scorched for great distances all around.
"Things must have been getting dicey if you used something like that to clear out these noobs," the djinn commented.
Momonga gently floated back down. "It was unfortunate, but with how many swarmed us, we grew desperate. With all of us here now, we should be able to gather more of our friends and hopefully turn the tide."
"Has it gotten any worse for our side since we've started?" Dynamite asked, her wings fluttering.
"Thankfully, no. Some of our guildmates fell back into the tomb to handle those who made it past the initial line of defense. They should be dealt with soon enough," the overlord replied.
"That is…good," Grievous Sin said, "Dynamite informed us that while surveying the battlefield, she spotted world champions among our enemy's ranks. Have you managed to glean anything from them as to who they are or why the hell they've come here?"
"Not much. They're something called the 'Eight Guild Alliance', a sort of group dedicated to trying to bring us down. Why, I can only guess. Probably for loot, more likely for fame, and they did it now because THAT BASTARD WE WERE UNABLE TO GET OUR HANDS ON MADE US LOOK WEAK!"
Nobody replied to Touch Me's words. That event still unnerved many among them after over two months.
"Regardless, something tells me they want more than glory and items," Ulbert butted in, "Zeus Enalios and the Olympian Hit Squad are here too. Illicit Sinners as a whole aren't yet, but there's no telling how long until they join the fight. We need to get everyone else together and hold the line, or else we'll-"
"GET SMASHED BENEATH OUR BOOTS AND SMEARED LIKE THE INSECTS YOU ARE."
Everyone tensed up, hearing the new voice interrupt their conversation. It didn't help matters when they heard the collection of snickers accompany the haughty, arrogant tone.
Wish and Ulbert grit their teeth while turning to face the newcomers. They stood just outside the perimeter of [Fallen Down]'s radius, so the speaker used either a spell or item to carry his voice.
There were six figures total, to match each member of Ainz Ooal Gown currently assembled. They were arrayed in a U formation, with a lead figure to represent the group as a whole and his company flanking the sides. Unlike most of the players that they had battled today so far, their equipment was either just below or meeting the standard of his guild, making them a far greater threat.
Two of the figures were human archers, one silver themed and the other gold, a woman and man. The man's bow was more angular and geometric in the arms, with the string glowing sunset orange, annoyingly similar to Pero's bow, while the woman's was much more slender and graceful. Both wore matching tunics, with breastplates of their respective metals like chiseled muscles. Circlets of sunfire and moonlight adorned their brows, with similar, flowing hairstyles to compliment one another.
One man wore muscled armor shrouded in shadows so thick it would make Temperance jealous. Each shoulder carried the snarling visage of a three-headed dog, and his Spartiate helmet carried a majestic plume made of crow feathers.
In the shadowy warrior's left hand was a bident, or a two-pronged spear, and on the other was a massive clawed gauntlet that could cleave a dragon in two. A cape cascaded down his impressive shoulders like ink, pooling around his feet.
Another impressive one was a thickly bearded player who wielded a heavy, two handed war-hammer with a head that, strangely, resembled a braying donkey. A Celestial Uranium lined apron covered his entire torso, while Heavenly Bronze casts covered the arms and legs as makeshift armor.
The second to last figure was covered in reptile-green robes with imagery of coiling serpents all along the hems of his clothing. In one hand was a golden staff whose core was wrapped in the bodies of alive, hissing cobras, and a pair of wings at the tip. That figure's hood was thrown back to reveal a sharp, spear-like helmet with its own pair of wings flaring outwards on either side. The greaves the man wore likewise were similarly adorned. Auburn ringlets peaked out the edge of the man's helmet.
All of the described players were among the Olympian Hit Squad, a collection of the most feared and respected minmaxers and role players among the nine realms, but in a sense, they did not even come close to the one who led them.
Zeus Enalios himself was dressed as he always was. He was bare chested, with the tattoo of a sea serpent writhing across his pecs in a fearsome display of decoration. Bands of Imperial Gold wrapped around his finely sculpted biceps, bulging with the strain placed upon them. Around his waist was a belt of interlocking coral links, from which a waterfall of sea water flowed endlessly. Just beneath, greaves of ocean rock covered his lower half, with bracers of a similar material upon his forearms. Resting on his head was a crown constructed of volcanic rock and pearls, images of sea life engraved all along its perimeter. Wheat colored hair reached down to his chin, framing the angular jaw and high cheekbones his avatar had. But more concerning of all were his eyes, a blank and completely bored stare permanently consuming the deep blue of his irises. His chin was always slightly raised, and his gaze peering past his handsome and terrible face.
"I thought I smelled heteromorphic filth around here," Zeus Enalios stated in a neutral tone, "Tell me, have you enjoyed the little party we've thrown in your honor? Do you like the amount of guests we've brought to come and see you all? I figured you'd all be getting lonely, given just how completely loathed your entire existence is." He was laying the roleplay on thickly, enough so that his guildmates grimaced. To their credit though, they didn't react beyond that initial expression. The power of their friendship and many years of gaming.
"How about you eat shit and die, Zeus? KA-BOOM!" Dynamite roared, snapping her wings forward and shooting out a barrage of explosive feathers. Each projectile fired at a speed that no normal player should have been able to keep up with, already sizzling red-hot with power and ready to impale their next target.
Only before they could reach their intended target, a whirlwind of strength battered them away like flies, the clang of gear against ordinance ringing through the battlefield. To all but Touch Me, they could scarcely keep up with what they were looking at, which appeared as no more than rents in the Helheim mist.
When the last feather was completely knocked aside, the gusts ceased, and it could be see the fabled trident of the World Champion of Midgard. Nearly twice the height of the man himself.
The length of the weapon was a flawless, polished bronze that caught the light of the atmosphere. The tips of the weapon looked more like the teeth of some vicious, prehistoric monster, and the shaft it's tail ending in a wickedly sharp spike. Grooves were cut into the weapon's handle at regular intervals, and in between each were scale designs and a rough, bumpy texture like corroded rock. It steamed from a combination of heat and whatever energies the weapon exuded naturally. A weapon of war, meant to be wielded by the pinnacle of Yggdrasil's player base. Its name was Maw of Oblivion.
The world champion's lips drew into a thin line. "Was that it? I figured the Firehawk of Ainz Ooal Gown would have a little more to offer than that. Guess you prove right those rumors about you guys losing your edge in the last period." Dynamite snarled, moving to strike again, only to be held back by Touch Me himself.
"Calm down, he's just baiting you," the paladin said, "You know if you get close, he'll just finish you in one hit." However, this confirms what we feared. It's that damn Oshikuru's fault! We should've killed him when we had the chance!"
Zeus's condescending look deepened. "Is that right? Well, at least you had the brains to figure out a low blow like that. Though, had you bothered to get any closer, I would've just let the others have you instead. You're hardly worth the time."
"Why are you here, Enalios?" Momonga asked, stepping forward. "Why gather so many newbies and d-list guilds to fight against us? You can't possibly think you can take Nazarick with only a few hundred players, at best."
"A few hundred? Please. You've no idea the storm that's coming your way! There won't even be a scorch mark to remember you by on the map!" Shouted the silvery, female archer, hefting her bow in threat.
She wilted under the withering glare that her leader sent her way, shuffling her feet awkwardly and looking down.
"We don't speak out of turn, and we especially don't bother sharing details, do we, Luna Chaser?" The World Champion of Midgard said calmly, almost as if he were scolding a puppy.
The archer shook her head softly, and a comforting hand was placed on her shoulder by her golden counterpart.
"In any event, you'll be overwhelmed soon enough. We'll take whatever loot you have to your name, especially those world class items you have locked up in there. I think your base will do nicely as a storage house once we've taken it," Zeus chatted, directing his attention back to the others.
All heteromorphs assumed defensive stances at his words, to which the Olympians save Zeus mirrored. "You want Nazarick? You'll just have to pry it out of our digital, dead hands, you two-bit poser," Ulbert snarked, his ethereal arms slithering out of their bells and curling into fists. Runic circles encompassed his forearms. Everyone of them assembled their weapons or summoned their magic, determination filling the AOG members as they stared down the stony face of Zeus Enalios.
A glint of amusement shone in the eyes of Yggdrasil's official champion, though his expression hardly changed. He bent his knees, bringing his trident up to point directly at his throat. "That's exactly what I was looking for!" And then he pounced. All the present Olympians followed suit, letting loose battle cries at the same time that Ainz Ooal Gown did.
Just outside of his vision, Momonga could see the other players from the invasion gathering up, but not jumping directly into the fight. They seemed far more content to sit back and watch the show among titans that was going on. One even had some sort of drone hovering over her shoulder, the camera eye shuttering as it took various photos of what came next.
Wish's whips came crashing down upon the green robed Olympian, who raised his staff to allow his cobra's to flare their hoods and spray twin streams of venom from their fangs.
They evaporated against the natural protections of the wish granter's body, negligible beyond the simple "cool" factor of the cobras.
The flaming weapons wrapped around the shaft of the caduceus, but rather than being yanked away, the weapon glowed with an enchantment that shimmered venom yellow. The fires of his whips sputtered, before fully extinguishing.
"[Wrath of Surtr]! [Stream of Magma]!" Runic circles hovering above his palms. In his right, a flaming sword materialized and slashed horizontally, carving a wall of fire that pulsed every few seconds. Each pulse sent out its own shockwave of energy along the ground, dealing area of effect damage.
The secondary spell was more straightforward, a pure blast of raw heat and elemental damage shooting out in a straight-line. For every second that he kept up the beam, it drained another tick of his mana.
Green Robe smirked, the wings on his greaves fluttering as he dodged, creating afterimages from the added speed he now wielded. In the blink of an eye he was up in the djinn's face, slicing downwards with a straight-edge dagger concealed in his clothing.
Wish growled as he felt his health tick down from the attack, likely a glowing wound from his forehead to his lower chin leaving its mark. From the way it sizzled and how his health continued to dwindle, he figured the weapon was similarly enchanted with poison damage.
Before he could react with another blast from [Stream of Magma], Green Robe was already gone. He floated a few feet away, ignoring the pulses of fire from [Wrath of Surtr] altogether. He held up a peace sign.
"What's the matter? Can't keep up with my speed? You should know I already did my research, and know exactly how to deal with you," the mage taunted, zipping around to his back to deal another attack.
"[Protection of Muspelheim]," he said, right as another slash made its way across his back. The spell stored the added damage he would've received, and reflected inwards into a fiery column that shot out from the point of origin.
Based on how his opponent yelped, he must've come close to being singed, but managed to escape at the last minute. He zoomed back in front of the djinn with an annoyed glare.
"You think you're the only one who has a few tricks up his sleeve? How about you try this on for size: [Psychic Blades]."
Wisps of smoke trailed from his body, hovering and solidifying into daggers above his head. They then surrounded him in a circle, constantly spinning to cover him as best as the spell could manage.
They both reengaged, Green Robe's speed being tempered by the defending parries of the djinn's extra defenses. His whips reignited, adding on to the wish granter's arsenal and applying more pressure.
Momonga and the bident wielder were flying in mid air, throwing blasts of dark- fueled spells and the occasional [Reality Slash].
Several skeletons with bows filed around on the ground, firing a few arrows before being smashed to pieces by the shadow cloaked Olympian's clawed gauntlet. Sometimes, the bones would remain intact enough to reassemble and continue their doomed task.
Every once in a while, Bident would thrust forward with his spear, only to be deflected by a ward or one of the spare daggers that the overlord kept on his person.
Ulbert was handling the duo of archers, who spread away from each other and were much more efficient and quick in firing their volleys. The twins were on almost opposite ends of one another, which meant that the baphomet demon effectively had to keep an eye on two different directions.
His ethereal fists caught what arrows they could, slamming on the places where the twins would be moments prior to rolling out of the way. Whatever arrows made it past bounded off the wards the powerful demon put up for himself.
Closer to the outskirts of the massive scorch mark, the hammer wielder was pressing the advantage on Grievous Sin, who sent out as many worms as he dared to harass and nip at the legs of the heavy set human.
Whatever strength the human had was great enough that he muscled through the damage, raising his donkey-headed weapon to crack the skull of the mgalekgolo. An evil grin cracked its way across his hairy face.
Only to fall when several feathers pierced his hide and exploded, sending Hammer flying face first into the dirt. Dynamite flapped closer to her guildmate, reciting a spel that encased Grievous in an opal glow.
When the enemy staggered back up, his right arm hung limply, but he needed only one to properly swing his weapon. In his eyes were murder, and a desire to tear the heteromorphs apart with his bare hands if needed.
But the main attraction of their bout came from the clash of the two world champions themselves, who fought in the center of their make-shift stage.
So fast were most of their blows that even the closest ones could see the sword and the trident.
Frustration was apparent on both sides, as no party was winning yet.
Green Robe found no clearance to swing his daggers or jab with his stick, and Wish III could neither grab or wrap the speedy player with his whips. Where are your spells? Why haven't you used any yet? Give me something besides speed and little slices. As if reading his thoughts, Green Robe gave him another peace sign and a cocky smirk. "[Extend Magic], [Teleportation]." The speedster disappeared in a flash, as did the human blacksmith that was starting to get beaten up by Grievous and Dynamite. But all the other humans retreated as well, suddenly backing off the heteromorphs they fought. Zeus Enalios got in one last jab, which, expectedly, was deflected with ease by Touch Me. The World Champion of Midgard stalked backwards, joining up with his allies back at the edge of the [Fallen Down] scorch mark.
"What's wrong? Starting to get a little too hot for you here? Need a moment to recuperate?" Ulbert taunted.
He and his guildmates reassembled as well, warily watching the Olympians as they stared back.
Then, the humans began to chuckle ominously. "You didn't really think this was the full extent of the invasion, did you?" Zeus Enalios replied, face blank as ever, "No, we merely had to keep you distracted enough for the main event." The world champion gestured with his trident over their shoulders, causing all of Ainz Ooal Gown present to look behind them. Through the murky clouds up above, split apart by the crimson lightning that arced across the sky, the dark shapes of even more warships drew in closer, around five of them.
Now that Touch Me was no longer distracted by the thrill of battle, he could feel the mountainous shaking of the ground, and below the collection of darkened clouds was another of dust. Through the maelstrom he could witness easily a thousand or so approaching figures, armed and ready for combat. Not all of them were players, for many of them walked jankily and in short bursts. Some floated above the main force in the space between the warships and the ground force. Amongst the players on the ground, there were interspaced golems of all materials and varieties, marching along towards their intended target.
A chant was taken up by the mighty army, thumping their weapons in tune with their war cry: "ENOUGH WITH AOG! ENOUGH WITH AOG!"
The players surrounding the charred area of [Fallen Down] cheered, waving excitedly at the arriving army and thumping their own weapons in tandem. The previous player with the drone over their shoulder now had many more, taking pictures all around.
And the first line of attackers was mainly composed by the proud members of two among the top ten guilds. Mercenary Magicians, which had the most World Disasters in its ranks, and Seraphim, hundreds of the highest level angels.
"Phase one of this invasion was just to buy time for everyone else to show up. Besides our two best allies, most of them may be d-listers, but all are more than determined, we have the numbers," Zeus declared, his voice right in his foes' ears. Then, he picked a victim and attacked.
There was no time to react, as suddenly the prongs of his trident burst forth from Wish III, molten blood pouring from the wounds. Time slowed down when he saw his mortal injury, and though he felt no pain, he knew that with the damage he sustained, there would be no way for him to be saved unless his friends were able to pry him off at that second. Whatever powers lay within Zeus's trident went to work, eating away at his very essence and eroding his avatar from the inside out. He should've put on a breastplate, or used [Body of Effulgent Aquamarine] earlier to account for piercing damage.
"Wish!" Ulbert cried, rushing forward to try and save his friend, only to be tackled by the other Olympians who took advantage of their momentary distraction.
Dynamite was smacked down by the hammer, the explosive mage crying out in shock. Grievous and Momonga were pelted by arrows from the twins, the two heteromorphs blocking as best they could from the onslaught.
Bident and Green Robe both charged Touch Me, who was forced to go on the defensive with the hit and run tactics Green Robe employed with speed that nearly matched the paladin's. When Ulbert tried to come to the World Champion of Alfheim's aid, he was blocked by Bident's own assault.
The djinn was lifted into the air, sliding down further along the trident's tips. His beloved whips fell from his hands as he grabbed at the weapon and tried to pull himself off.
"I'm gonna enjoy stealing every last thing you have to your name," the human warrior said casually, "Every last piece of armor, every last weapon, every last goddamn coin you have on you, and then I'm gonna plunder your home!"
More and more of his health drained away, and he knew he only had seconds left before he completely dematerialized. With great effort, he looked down on Zeus, gritting his teeth in rage.
If this was how he was gonna go out for the time being, then he'd make sure to have the last word, literally in this sense if possible.
"I don't know if I'm gonna find you again," he said, his arms now fading away. "But someone will find you and beat the shit out of you. Ainz Ooal Gown knows no defeat, Olympian."
What was likely only seconds stretched out for an eternity, the member of Illicit Sinners studying the heteromorph closely. His eyes seemed to be searching for something, though what it could possibly be, the djinn would never know. The thought of being blindsided as he had been was a hideous blow to his pride. He was a member of Ainz Ooal Gown! One of the Unholy Triumvirate, to oppose the Holy Triumvirate that comprised Connaisdiam, Nubo, and Touch Me himself! He was supposed to be better than this! Stronger than this! Smarter than this! Finally, for the first time that entire fight, the human actually smiled. It was a smile that was surprisingly less venomous than he thought. Gentle, maybe even kind, if he was kidding himself. But ultimately, his smile portrayed amusement most of all.
"Ahahaha, nobody can possibly defeat me. I am Yggdrasil's Champion!" And lowered his trident, allowing Wish III to slide off. By the time he hit the ground, only his head remained, and then that too disappeared.
"Now, I will…"
But the words of the most feared man on the battlefield were interrupted by a low yet glacial voice coming from right behind him.
"The nine realms constitute one world. And within it, there's nothing I can't cut."
Zeus, frightened like a sheep assaulted by a wolf, jumped away from there as fast as he could.
"World…
A jet black armour appeared out of nowhere, together with a sword so full of power that two hands were necessary to keep it still.
Cut!"
The blow didn't graze Zeus, his friends, or the members of Ainz Ooal Gown. It flew, golden and sharp, in the opposite direction, at the speed of light, slicing through the great gathering of unsuspecting players.
Screams of horror and despair resounded.
"Seems like nobody in the first three or four rows survived. And had it not been the highest level players, I'm sure it would have progressed far further into the lines. While I thank you for allowing me to get the World Disaster class, my dear Zeus Enalios…"
He turned around and stared at the Olympian with a stone cold face.
"… Who did you say it was Yggdrasil's champion?"
He made a little step forward, and all did a long step backwards.
"O… shi… ku… ru!" The syllables left the trembling lips of Zeus, who could not believe his eyes.
Nobody could see the face behind the helmet, but it wasn't necessary to know the demon samurai was smiling from how his eye glowed.
"Indeed it's me. And I have come to join this fight. Although, I've yet to pick a side..."