The pen or The sword: ok.
Ceysar: I intend to do something a little original for Gilgamesh... even if I'm sure there will be some to hate me because of that...
raffaelmuench06: It's me who thanks you for reading my story.
Guest: Your wish is granted since here's a new chapter.
Oeuvre au Rouge
Battle of the 'Wall', the Ford of the Dagger, Roble Holy Kingdom.
It was a mass of combatants advancing and grouped in a square. Despite the current of the river, they were moving quickly without breaking their formation. Shoulders to shoulders, the ogres raised large shields over their heads.
Behind the battlements of the Wall, the elven archers fired one salvo after another but the shields of the brutish giants had the size and thickness of wooden gates. The timber panels were transformed into porcupines by the vibrating arrows, but the projectiles could not pierce.
Leyen Aristeia leaned: "Let the crossbowmen prepare to shoot!"
A floor below, the Dwarf crossbowmen rushed to the arrow slits fitted in the wall. Although not of the Dwarf people, Diolaine Gisle Kure fought alongside them because she also used a windlass crossbow. A foot in the stirrup, she turned the crank with both hands to arm the crossbow. Then, putting the weapon horizontally, she placed a bolt in the center rail, knelt in front of the firing slot, and leaned.
The Dwarf who was sitting next to her suddenly shouted:
"By the anvil and hammer, for the dwarf kingdom!"
Diolaine jumped.
"What are you yelling at, I'm trying to concentrate!"
"This is my war-cry! You should also have a war-cry; it strengthens the courage in battle."
The thief smiled.
"More victims to plunder!"
"Is that a war-cry?" replied the Dwarf, flustered.
"This is mine."
Leyen placed an arrow on his bow and shouted: "Bowmen, crossbowmen, fire at will!" before releasing the rope.
A level lower, Diolaine briefly closed her eyes and breathed out... using a thief skill she erased her presence and faded into the shadows, moving without making noises. Then she carefully aimed before resorting to another skill. Her lips silently articulated a single word: "Backstab" (1).
With a "stonk" sound the crossbow released a bolt that crossed the air and pierced the eye of an ogre. The monster clapped his arms and had the reflex to reach for his face before collapsing as if struck by lightning...
As the ogres fell one after another, it appeared that other demi-humans were participating in the attack. They were humanoids with a body covered in scales, and heads like vipers at the end of long and mobile necks: Snakemen. Placed behind the massive and tall ogres, protected by their shields, they make sure to reach a good distance before launching an attack.
Each of them had in hand a magestaff or a wand.
And they began to whisper incantations.
" Acid arrow!"
" Lightning!"
" Magic arrow!"
Unfortunately for them, deprived of the protection of the shields carried by the ogres, they were the most vulnerable. The spells broke on the bulwark without doing much damage as a barrage of arrows fell back... nailing them to the ground as a collection of butterflies pinned on a board by a mad lepidoterophile.
The surviving ogres retreated.
Leyen looked at the enemies being massacred by the archers and their retreat turned into a rout.
It had been a long time since he lost count of the assaults they had suffered. The world had become an eternal nightmare of blood and gore, and he struggled to remember his life before this terrible battle.
Around him, the defenders sat or lay down on the ground, taking advantage of the respite between two attacks to take a little rest.
Their leader looked up at the sky. It was dark for a long time and there was probably not much time left before dawn. Hearing a horse's neighing, he turned around. A cart had just arrived, and several women were on board. They immediately began to unload barrels filled with arrows and bolts. Archers and crossbowmen had long since fired all the projectiles they carried. Fortunately, the castle had important reserves.
Leyen was trying to estimate how many projectiles they had left when he felt a drop of water fall on his hand.
He turned to the sky and found that the weather had changed. The stars were now completely invisible, hidden by clouds. A second drop of rain fell on his cheek as a distant roar of thunder announced the storm coming towards them. In the clouds charged with electricity, brief flashes appeared as if Valkyries were racing through the sky.
How long would they be able to repel the enemy's assault? They were getting tired faster than their enemies and they would soon have fired their last arrow.
Plus...
His instinct was screaming warnings. They were caught in a trap. It was a gut feeling. The enemy was manipulating them... except that... except that... it was absurd. Why didn't they attack? Why would they sacrifice goods fighters en masse in attacks that are already lost if the only purpose was to keep them occupied? The elf Ranger shook his head, it made no sense...
Leyen turned to the town of Daggerford. Lights shone on the towers staking the outer walls.
Miriel returned to the castle several hours ago to monitor alchemical operations. The creation of the Philosopher's Stone had entered the last phase.
"Beware, the enemy is coming back."
Leyen cleared his mind of all other concerns, focusing on the attack in progress.
"Archers, get ready!"
Around him, the elves stood up and gathered behind the battlements.
On the other side of the crystal window, one could see the Philosophical Egg, which now contained a slightly luminous white liquid. Part of the liquid had condensed into a white crystal.
It was the Oeuvre au Blanc.
The penultimate phase of the creation of the Philosopher's Stone had been underway for several hours. The Wizards had already obtained the White Stone, a lower variant of the Philosopher's Stone capable of turning lead into silver. But it was not what they wanted... they had to wait... hope... pray... and watch the completion of the Grand Oeuvre.
Miriel stood up.
It was a very pretty half-elf with long silk-like black hair partly braided into a twisted braid that surrounded the back of her head like a crown. Her cheeks were strewn with freckles and her eyes were green as emeralds.
Unlike the other wizards, she was dressed in an elven chainmail and her long blue cape was impregnated with the smell of smoke, stained with blood.
"It is necessary to increase the cooking temperature," she decided after consulting the book that she was holding.
One of the youngest wizards, a simple assistant, opened the fireplace at the base of the athanor, removed the lamp that was used to heat the Philosophical Egg, one floor higher, and added a wick.
All participants were nervous, well aware of the issues, and eagerly awaiting the final stage of metamorphosis. They did not pay particular attention to an assistant even paler, even more nervous than all of them. Rodrigo Garcia was stroking a leather pouch attached to the belt of his wizard's dress. In this pocket, there was a very special Magic Scroll. The young man was unaware but the magic circle and the runes inscribed on it had been drawn by a lich working at the scriptorium of the library Assurbanipal...in Nazarick.
" Einherjar!"
Antilene Heran Fouche's voice resounded on the battlefield as a double of herself materialized beside her. Unlike the Heterochromia Girl who had just summoned it, the Einherjar was entirely white, but the creature resembled its summoner in every detail, from the haircut to the armor and the Glaive it held in hand.
Antilene's bleached double stands still for a few moments, then...
" Greater Ability Boost!"
" Greater Wind Stride!"
Jumping down the wall, the creature ran towards the siege tower that approached the walls.
Made of green timber covered with plates of hammered metal, shields, and skins of freshly shelled beasts, the war machine moved through the ford. The archers and crossbowmen had tried in vain to kill the Spriggans (transformed into giants) who pushed the siege tower. All those they eliminated were immediately replaced.
But the Einherjar appeared suddenly before the siege tower and raised its Glaive. And...
" Greater Slash Strike!"
It jumped high twirling around the Siege Tower as fast as a spinning top while striking with great strokes of its Glaive.
In a crash of twisted metal and broken wood, the huge wood tower collapsed... cut into several pieces.
The Einherjar did not take a moment to rest, its weapon transformed into a blurred wheel, it ran forward and struck the enemy regiments that were coming in the assault. The result was a blast of gore as it continued its journey amid a rain of blood, heads, and arms cut off...
The morning was grey, cloudy and a cold rain fell draughty.
For a moment, blue-white lightings united the sky and the earth, when they struck a tree it exploded into broken branches and fragments of scorched bark before catching fire.
Shading his eyes with one hand, Leyen looked towards the other bank. The fighting seemed to have stopped. Thousands of enemy warriors surrounded the place where the Einherjar had finally stoped its rampage. There was no cry of triumph, no manifestation of joy, just a shocked silence... While the survivors looked at each other, amazed to have survived, horrified that only one enemy could have done such a massacre. The demons were the first to react, insulting the 'inferior beings', punching the 'lazy' demi-humans, or whipping the 'cowards'.
The elf Ranger lowered his arm and turned to Antilene.
The Heterochromia Gothic Girl smiled... a smile that made Leyen cower inside.
"Yes, my Einherjar was finally destroyed. But it probably killed several hundred enemies. It took regiments to face it unless..."
The extra seat of the Black Scripture caressed her belly with one hand and her smile (still as unhealthy) became dreamy.
"Unless there is someone very strong on the enemy side, who knows, maybe even someone strong enough to defeat me."
Leyen hesitated briefly and then headed to another section of the rampart. He did not like the 'two legs' but of all his companions, Antilene was the one who made him most uncomfortable.
The most frightening thing was that the Einherjar did not match the power of its summoner...
The defenders had two hours of peace before the enemy returned to attack. They had become inexplicably shy... I wonder why.
Using pliers, they carefully removed the Philosophical Egg from the athanor. A solemn silence filled the room as the two wizards gingerly placed it in front of Miriel. Kneeling, the half-elf was momentarily overcome with emotion. After standing up, she turned to face the wizards. "We have succeeded..." she began, struggling to find the right words. Her gaze turned back to the red liquid, in which an equally red crystal floated. This was the ultimate goal of every alchemist...
The Oeuvre au Rouge!
How many alchemists had devoted their lives to the Grand Oeuvre without success and never managed to create it...
"It's the Philosopher's Stone!"
One of the Wizards trembled.
"Let us break the retort and take the stone!"
Miriel stood up, raising her hand in a gesture of prohibition.
"Don't rush it; the liquid residue also has a use. Breaking the glass vessel would be an insane waste. Anyway, let's let the Stone cool. Let's take it out and finish our preparations..."
The Summoner swallowed and her hands began to tremble as emotion overwhelmed her. She had succeeded! Miried felt a vibration of joy. As the tension of the last hours dissipated, fatigue overwhelmed her... how many hours had she been up? More than twenty-four hours in any case...
"... our preparations to call Elvil"
As she got up holding in her hands the pot filled with ice in which they had placed the Philosopher's Stone, the half-elf realized that she had left her alchemy book on the ground.
An assistant rushed to take it.
"Let me help you, Lady Miriel."
"Thank you, Rodrigo."
Rodrigo Garcia sighed inwardly; he had succeeded in the first task that Jadalbaoth had entrusted to him... to seize the book containing the recipe to create the Philosopher's Stone.
With careful gestures, Miriel sawed the long neck of the Philosophical Egg. Now she was transferring the liquid content into a vial which she placed in her Inventory.
"What is the residue for?" asked one of the assistants who had accompanied him to the guard post.
"Oh, it's a potion. I'm sure someone will need it someday" Miriel responded in a tone that conveyed indifference as if the question were unimportant and vaguely boring.
The red liquid was a Philter of Youth. This potion was something as precious as the Philosopher's Stone itself. Was there not a legend in Germany or Central Europe about an old mage who sold his soul to the Devil in exchange for a second youth? (2) But she had no reason to reveal this 'detail' to the assistants. Miriel learned the hard way that it was better to keep her cards on her chest when playing a game where one of the stakes was her own life.
Taking the Philosopher's Stone in her hand, she felt a pulsation rising along her arm, chasing away the aches and pains, rendering their acuity to her senses become dull due to exhaustion.
In the company of the two assistants, she went out and pulled down the hood of her cape to protect herself from the rain that was falling with such density that the landscape disappeared ten meters ahead of them. Not that there is much to see. They were beyond the ramparts of Daggerford, crossing a vacant lot that had served as a camp for the army of barons before Jadalbaoth destroyed it.
It was a vast flat land, surrounded by a palisade and wooden towers.
In other words, the perfect place to summon an army.
Miriel placed the Philosopher's Stone on a pedestal in a magic circle adjacent to the main pentacle and then crossed it into its center. She opened her Inventory and took out the Orb of Usha.
As she hurried to the periphery of the Great Pentacle to join the wizards who were going to recite the incantations necessary for the invocation of Elvil, several cries of surprise were heard.
The assistant named Rodrigo Garcia had just pulled out a scroll and dropped it in the air.
" Gate!"
The scroll burned to ashes as a wide porch resembling a dark pond crossed by purple ripples appeared behind him.
"I... I had no choice. Forgive me."
Rodrigo hurried to cross the Gate... but he had barely passed on the other side when creatures came out of it. They were monsters... no they were demons from hell!
The first ranks of creatures, a dozen or so, looked like humans in black armor holding heavy weapons in their hands, but they were not humans, they had bat wings on their shoulders.
Next came a... greasy and green thing. The being was humanoid but as big as a house and screaming faces appeared on his body.
And other monsters were still coming behind... more and more... more than a hundred demons had already crossed the opening!
Fast and slow.
It seemed strange but the demons' attack simultaneously seemed to unfold so fast that Miriel was frozen in place, and so slowly that myriads of thoughts had time to form in her mind, colliding in complete confusion... The Summoner was panicked, unable to imagine a plan of action that could save her life.
Strangely, the first coherent thought she had was a memory. Miriel (or rather Watanabe Haruko) was reading a fascinating book sitting in her chair. And she shook her head... because the hero was stupid. If Haruko had been sent in his place, she would have acted much more intelligently. She had many more effective ideas.
Except that now that she was in the hero's place, Miriel understood that surprise, tiredness and panic were more dangerous factors than any enemy.
The humanoids in black armor had taken flight and passed over the Summoner. Despite the other demons that ran in her direction, she turned to look at the winged monsters that had just flown over her.
They were heading for the pentacle.
Toward the Orb of Usha and the Philosopher's Stone!
It took a moment for her brain to digest what happened next... The demons suddenly seemed to hit an invisible wall as projectiles struck them at high speed, tearing their wings, and creating a garland of sparks on their armor before coming out the other side and hitting the ground in large sheaves of viscous mud!
As if somebody had pushed the 'normal speed' button on a TV remote, time returned to its usual pace. The corpses fell to the ground and began to dissipate... returning to the hell that had begotten them.
A voice fell from the sky.
"You, the girl with pointed ears run to the pentacle and finish the invocation of this dragon. I take it upon myself to stop these demons"
Inexplicably, it was only then that she saw him.
Yet the red armor that floated in the sky was perfectly incongruous. It was a kind of angular machine propelled by thrusters with a narrow head with a flat face, no doubt some sort of optical sensor... It was one of those Power-Armors so frequent in futuristic Shounen manga. This thing had absolutely nothing to do with a Fantasy World!
Yet, at the 'thing' neck armed with a kind of heavy rifle... or machine gun... or cannon (Miriel knew nothing about modern weapons) hung a dark blue rectangular medallion perfectly recognizable: an adamantine-rank medal from the Adventurer guild.
"Don't stand still with your mouth open, you're not that thirsty! Move!"
Dripping with rain, Miriel blushed. The mocking voice of the individual inside the red Power-Armor finally woke her. As he fired a new burst of high-velocity bullets toward the demons who continued to come out of the black portal, she began to run.
"You can't stop an army of demons all by yourself."
"Who said I'm alone?!" Seeing that his second burst had less effect than the first, the red Power-Armor pilot uttered a series of obscenities. "Ah... so, some of you are invulnerable to non-magic weapons? No problem!"
Lowering his weapon, he raised his arm and a kind of small cannon spread out on his wrist. A magical pentacle appeared and began to turn on itself... the next moment a dragon formed of electricity emerged from the circle covered with geometric figures and kabbalistic signs to rush towards the demons, passing from one to another, electrocuting a dozen.
The armor was not the product of advanced technology but a magical construct! However, given its appearance, it had been modeled to please teenagers who played Mechas games. This armor was not created in this world; it was the armor of a Player!
Hesitant, the half-elf wizard stopped at the edge of the pentacle. She doubted if she could concentrate on the invocation while a fight was raging at about ten meters.
The man inside the red Power-Armor started screaming, shooting back a flying demon that attacked him at short range.
"Riku, whenever you are ready. Don't rush, buddy, I'm having fun, I have lots of playmates and more keep coming."
As Miriel and the other wizards wondered who he was talking to, a fluctuation of blue-violet light drew a humanoid silhouette that materialized less than a second later.
The individual who had just arrived was also in armor. But his looked more medieval. It was a beautiful knight's armor with a long horsehair plume. It was entirely made of a metal that looked like platinum. This Platinium Knight was surrounded by four weapons: a magnificent no-dashi (2-H katana), a zambato (3), a gigantic warhammer, and an elegant spear. Like the armor, these weapons were made entirely of platinum.
A blue light was streaming through the vision slit of the armor and Miriel was sensitive enough to shiver as she felt the aura of power enveloping the newcomer as he brushed her with his gaze.
Without paying her any more attention, the Platinium Knight turned back and raised his hand in an imposing gesture.
" World-Isolating Barrier!"
The black portal fluctuated and disappeared... ending the invasion of the demons' horde.
The battle was coming to an end. The remaining demons were swiftly defeated in less than a minute. It was obvious that the two armored men used to fight together. The red Power-Armor attacked flying opponents at range, while the Platinum Knight engaged footmen in close combat, controlling his weapons with great efficiency gained from extensive use. The Knight's weapons floated around him, whirling around him, changing positions, parrying attacks, and counterattacking with lethal precision, never needing to strike a second time.
As the last demon collapsed and began to disintegrate, the Platinium Knight turned and walked to the edge of the pentacle, stopping in front of Miriel.
"I am Riku Aganeia. The man with me is called Azuth Aindra."
Placing a hand on her heart, the half-elf bowed.
"My name is Miriel. I must thank you for intervening. Without you..."
Her voice broke and she noticed she was shaking from head to toe. She touched her cheeks and felt a wetness that had nothing to do with the rain. The young woman was crying due to the terror she had experienced.
Aganeia raised a hand in a gesture of denial.
"I accept your thanks, Lady Miriel. However, I did not actually act to protect you. I just wanted to prevent Jadalbaoth from acquiring artifacts that make him more dangerous. I must say that I am not very enthusiastic about the idea of you importing other creatures from another world."
Miriel frowned.
"You hate the Players."
"No. I see people like you more as lost children, confused, and scared. I rather pity you. But you often act like spoiled children who covet other children's toys and the damage you do leaves deep scars in the New World."
"Aganeia-san, f you are suspicious of the Players, why are you accompanied by one of them?"
"Azuth is not a Player, only the armor he wears comes from the DMMO-RPG Yggdrasil."
DMMO-RPG? Miriel had never heard of this term. MMO-RPG was probably for Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game. But what did the D mean? She cast off this parasitic thought to concentrate on the present.
"You're the first person I've met since I've been in the New World who seems to understand what Players really are."
Riku Aganeia answered the implicit question with this flat but strangely warm voice.
"This is not surprising. I have been around for centuries and I have met many people. I was a member of the Thirteen Heroes, our leader was a Player. We were very close... he was one of my best friends. He told me his story, of course."
Miriel nodded. Most of the MMO-RPG players were teenagers. She understood that Rika Aganeia spoke of what he had seen with his own eyes when comparing the Players to " spoiled children". The Summoner hesitated briefly, time to gather her courage and speak.
"I intend to call for help from... the MMO I was playing... you know what I mean?"
"Yes," confirmed the Platinium Knight.
"You won't stop me from summoning Elvil?"
"I've already given you my opinion on this, Lady Miriel. I don't like the idea... but you can't stop Jadalbaoth without help. Also, my priority is the Sorcerer King Ainz Ooal Gown. I have been watching you for a long time and I have learned much about your limitations as well as your intentions. I have decided to let you do what you want. But remember, I am watching over you and this world is under my protection."
"I understand the warning, Riku Aganeia, but..." she hesitated."Could we step away for a moment? I'd like to talk to you privately."
"Talk to me? What?"
"We need to talk about Jadalbaoth, there is something you must know."
Several Gates opened in the forest and hordes of invaders came out: Armats (bipedal rats with iron-like fur) Naja Rajas (snakes with arms), Puri Uns (ogres with earth elemental abilities), Orthrous (centaur-like creatures, but with the four-legged bodies of great cats).
Seven of these Gates had been opened by the lieutenants of Demiurge, demons named after the Seven Deadly Sins, they were under the command of Lord Wrath. Of course, each of them had summoned hordes of demons. They were serving as officers and sergeants in the army who gathered under the shade of the trees.
The plan was devised by Demiurge. Simultaneously with the demon attack targeting the Orb of Usha and the Philosopher's Stone, 20,000 warriors from the Demi-Human Alliance were to be transferred across the Shelayen River to flank the small army defending the ford and attack the small walled town of Daggerford.
Demiurge (or rather Jadalbaoth) was not present. He commanded the army that advanced towards the south in pursuit of the barons' army's remains. Nevertheless, a Floor Guardian was leading the attack.
Shalltear Bloodfallen had just opened an eighth door and the Stone Eaters who came out were framed by Vampire Brides (cyanotic women fully dressed in white). These True Vampires were a wonderful complement to Shalltear since she did not wear her usual gothic Lolita dress, preferring a long white dress adorned with lace, a large hat, and a metal mask, her hair was untied and fell to her feet like a beautiful cape of golden thread...The outfit Shalltear was wearing during her fight against Brain Unglaus during the Demonic Disturbance (4).
As the armies gathered, Shalltear smiled under her mask and raised her folded fawn like a conqueror's sword.
"All right, all troops advance and prepare to attack."
At her command, the formations of warriors began to leave the woods, grouped in squares spiked with spears and other weapons.
It was an impressive spectacle and she commanded this army for the glory of Nazarick. Maybe even Ainz-sama would thank her... personally if she got a brilliant victory. Maybe even take her to his room and...
Her libidinous thoughts were cut off by the sound of an arriving Message... fortunately for the reader's mental health.
She put a hand on her temple.
"Hello?"
"Shalltear, I have..."
The vampire interrupted the Overlord with a voice full of love.
"Ainz-sama, I was just thinking of you!"
There was a pause... as Ainz shivered while imagining the thoughts of the Floor Guardian.
"Shalltear, Demiurge has just warned me that the Gate leading to Daggerford has been closed. Riku Aganeia appeared and destroyed all the demons that were already on the other side. I..."
But the vampire could no longer listen to her love. She hid her eyes dazzled by a glittering light. A blinding white column rose from the wooden fortifications surrounding Daggerford.
Miriel had just opened a door to another world!
The legions of demi-humans who came out of the forest had stopped when they saw the column of light. Some creatures with particularly sharp vision had seen a dark form get up the beam of light and disappear into the clouds.
As the light faded and the warriors were seeing again, all faces turned towards the sky... the clouds where the rain fell swirled violently, forming a vortex where electric arcs crackled.
There was something in the center of this vortex!
They saw a sphere of white light covered with glyphs and magical pentacles that were crackling, changing, seeming to spin the clouds. Then...
A very violent shock wave knocked down the demi-humans!
When the warriors rose, the thunderclouds had been pushed away. The sun was shining in a blue sky... wait... the sun? Above Daggerford? The city was to the north! Many heads turned to the east... and the real sun appeared over the hills beyond the Shelayen.
The fireball they had initially taken for the sun was growing... no, it fell on them.
Panic spread.
The warriors began to run... demons and vampires also... all ran towards the woods.
Too late.
The monstrous fireball (a sphere of more than 50 meters in diameter) hit the ground. What followed would have belonged in a book like the Mahabharata where gods clashed with divine powers and weapons capable of annihilating armies and razing cities to the ground... The explosion shook the hills, and blew up the trees, while a wall of flame moved at a supersonic speed.
Obviously, in the front row of the cataclysm, thousands of demi-human warriors were burned to ashes in a fraction of a second. The survivors were either badly burned or running in panic towards the Gates.
In the center of the crater born from the explosion stood now a huge red dragon, its armored silhouette must have been 20 meters long; its wings (for the moment folded) were twice this length.
Its huge head crowned with horns and chin covered with barbels turned to the sky as he roared. He then spat a long spray of white flames (5).
"Look at me and tremble, I am the destruction incarnate—the destroyer who with his fist shakes the entire world. I'm fire... I'm Elvil!
Shalltear stood up painfully.
Despite the distance and protection spells she used to stop enemy attacks, the vampire had been thrown to the ground and rolled about ten meters.
Ainz's mental voice resounded.
"Shalltear escape using the Gate! Immediately!"
"But..."
"Do not argue with me, I refuse to let the precious children of my friends face this monster without knowing its weak points and limits."
"Yes, Ainz-sama!"
Author's note: When writing this episode, I thought about what Sun Tzu said. This ancient Chinese strategist believed that political objectives should never interfere with military objectives. From Nazarick's perspective, the battle was easy to win, as they only needed to strike before the Philosopher's Stone was finished. However, Ainz wanted the Orb of Usha, the Philosopher's Stone, and Miriel. So... The Overlord is more or less like a magpie, he piles up all sorts of shiny trinkets in his nest.
I know you may be more interested in Elvil, particularly in knowing if it's stronger than Ainz. However, I don't intend to answer that. I want to maintain the integrity of the story. What I can say is that Elvil will prove to be a REAL problem for Nazarick. Not only is it powerful, but it also has servants capable of giving Ainz's subordinates a hard time.
(1) Backstab: Thieves' ability to inflict double damage by attacking an opponent unaware of his presence. I've been playing D for a long time... and when I play a thief/ rogue, I always take the heavy crossbow and I put skill points in handling this weapon. Using the skills ' hiding in the shadows' and 'Backstab' (note: the name of these skills vary depending on D ' edition) with a crossbow allowed me to kill more opponents than the warriors in the group.
(2) Mephistopheles gives a second youth to Faust in the Faustbuch (1587).
(3) Zambato: in medieval Japanese times, the zambato were weapons derived from no-dashi but with a wider blade used by infantry specialized in fighting against cavalry. They used it to cut off the legs of horses.
In RPGs, this name refers to the great badass swords too wide and heavy to handle by a human arm. One of my friends calls these swords 'pizza shovels'... he's right, because these swords are as wide and as elegant as pizza shovels.
(4) In case you've forgotten, the Demonic Disturbance is the first appearance of Jadalbaoth, the assault of a demon army against Re-Estize City.
(5) The color of the fire reflects its temperature 1000C for red flames, 1200C for blue flames, and 1500C for white flames.