Ainz surveyed his surroundings, his hollow eyes scanning the unfamiliar chamber. Though his skeletal visage betrayed no emotion, the Sorcerer King furrowed his unseen brow, his thoughts a tangle of uncertainty. Just moments ago, he had been within the halls of his great tomb, basking in the silence that followed his conquest of the Re-Estize Kingdom. And yet, as if by some unseen force, he now found himself in a place wholly unknown.

The air here was thick with the scent of dust and decay. Faint illumination danced across the chamber's walls, its source unclear. Ainz narrowed his gaze.

This light... It does not flicker like flame, nor does it bear the aura of simple enchantment. Is this magic?*

Raising a skeletal hand to his chin, he turned his gaze left and right. The walls, draped in cobwebs, whispered of a place long abandoned by mortal hands. Thick layers of dust lay undisturbed upon the stone floor, betraying the weight of years that had passed without so much as a footstep.

There's a corridor ahead—could that be the way out?*

Yet he did not advance. Caution, ever his ally, held him still.

Hmmm, I don't know if there are any traps here. It would be dangerous if I triggered one just by walking forward.*

With a simple utterance—"Fly"—Ainz invoked his magic, his form lifting gently into the air. He turned, surveying the chamber once more, and his gaze fell upon something most curious.

Carved into the stone behind him was a relief of breathtaking craftsmanship. A great figure, robed and crowned, stood at its center, a staff gripped in its grasp. To either side, two knights knelt in reverence, their steeds bowing alongside them. Flanking the scene, winged creatures loomed, their postures reverent, their presence lending an air of divinity to the central figure.

Ho… A king, perhaps? Or a god? This must be the remnants of a kingdom lost to time.*

Floating closer, Ainz studied the carving with keen interest. The intricacy of the design suggested meaning beyond mere decoration. There was reverence in the positioning, power in the very lines of the stone.

One thing is certain—this is no ruin of Re-Estize. I have never laid eyes upon such a depiction before.*

He raised a hand, fingers hovering just above the cold surface. Yet instinct bid him stay his touch.

If this is a sacred place, it may yet hold treasures… or dangers.*

As he pondered his next move, the chamber trembled. It was slight, nearly imperceptible—but Ainz saw it. Dust dislodged from the ceiling, and the faintest vibration ran through the air.

"Have I triggered something? I must tread carefully."

And then, the sound of footsteps echoed from the corridor. More than one pair.

Someone approaches. Hmph… Seems like more than one person.*

Without hesitation, he wove a spell, shrouding himself in invisibility. It would not hide him from those with the means to pierce such magic, but that, too, was a test. If these newcomers could perceive him, then they were beings worthy of his wariness.

Moments later, three figures stepped into the chamber. Young, all of them. Two bore the countenance of humans—or so Ainz assumed—while the third was unmistakably an elf.

"Miss Frieren, this is incredible!"

The speaker was a girl with violet eyes, her long hair matching their hue. Her gaze shone with fascination as it fell upon the relief. Beside her, the elf studied the stone with quiet scrutiny, while the smallest of the trio—a girl with flowing brown hair—assessed the scene with an air of quiet wisdom.

They carry no weapons, nor do they wield staffs. Not mages, then?*

The small girl with long hair spoke first.

"This depicts the deeds of the Buried King," she said, voice even. "I have never seen a Unified Dynasty relief so well preserved. This is an invaluable discovery."

The violet-haired girl's awe deepened at the revelation, while Ainz listened in silence.

Unified Dynasty? I have no knowledge of such a thing. Neither in Yggdrasil nor the New World. Am I simply lacking information, or could it be…*

A thought, unsettling in its implications, took root in his mind.

Another world entirely?*

If so, and if Nazarick was not with him… That would be a nightmare beyond reckoning.

Let's hope not.*

He needed answers. Before the trio departed, he whispered another incantation.

Silent Magic, Mana Essence.*

The instant the spell took form, a lance of light shot toward him with blinding speed.

"Eh?"

It struck true. Yet Ainz felt nothing—his HP untouched. It was unmistakably an attack, but that was not the true revelation. No, what mattered was the one who had launched it.

The elf girl.

Expressionless, her stance now firm, she gripped a staff that had not been in her hands before. Her gaze was locked onto him, unwavering.

"Impressive," Ainz mused aloud. "You were able to detect my presence despite my magic. That is no small feat."

The trio tensed. Where once they had stood unarmed, they now held staffs—save for the silver-haired girl, who remained curiously still.

"A demon, huh?" the elf murmured. "How troublesome."

The violet-haired girl—Fern, as she was called—furrowed her brows.

"Miss Frieren, I couldn't sense him at all. How is that possible?"

Frieren did not take her eyes off Ainz.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I only noticed him when he used magic. I thought it was an attack, so I retaliated."

Ainz chuckled softly. "So, you are called Frieren. A name unfamiliar to me. As is your method of detection." He raised his hands slightly, a gesture of peace. "I have no intention of causing any trouble here, so we should avoid fighting."

Frieren's gaze did not waver.

"Strange," she murmured. "I can't sense any magical energy from you, yet you can use magic."

"That is a secret," Ainz intoned, his voice resounding with an echo of mystery. "Besides, I—Ainz Ooal Gown—have already seen how much MP you all possess, and I must say, it's truly impressive. Aside from the inhabitants of Nazarick, this is the first time I've seen humans in this world with MP as high as yours."

For a fleeting moment, silence reigned, unbroken save for the distant drip of water upon stone.

"Wait," Ainz inquired, his tone laced with disbelief, "you've never heard the name Ainz Ooal Gown?"

"Never," came Fern's curt reply. Her expression remained impassive as she turned to her companion. "Miss Frieren?"

"The same as you," the elven mage murmured, her words carrying the weight of centuries.

"If even Miss Frieren is ignorant of your name, then surely Miss Sense would be as well," Fern added.

"Eh?" Ainz's surprise escaped him in an uncharacteristically human exclamation.

It was an unfathomable revelation. So staggering was the notion that Ainz found himself momentarily adrift, his expression—if he still possessed flesh—one of visible shock. He felt an urge to cry out in exasperation, but before it could consume him, a green aura shimmered around his skeletal form, subduing his rising emotions.

"As I have said," Ainz continued, his voice regaining its composure, "I don't want to fight. Plus, I don't even know where this is," His gaze swept over the three women before him. "So, I'd like to ask for your help in finding a way out."

"Listening to a demon's words is pointless," Frieren stated, her voice as unwavering as the mountain peaks. "Demons are creatures of deceit."

"If I had ill intentions, I would have attacked you all already,"," Ainz countered, folding his arms. "Yet, here I stand, having lifted not a finger against you."

"That does not make you trustworthy," Frieren replied, her tone unyielding as steel.

Ainz let out a weary sigh. He could force the matter, but he was not eager to forge new enemies.

"What would it take for you to believe that I mean no harm?" he asked.

Frieren regarded him with a scrutinizing gaze. "Show me your magical energy," she demanded. "What kind of demon conceals his power in the face of an opponent?"

"Isn't it normal for someone to hide their MP? Giving away that information to an enemy is dangerous," Ainz reasoned.

For a moment, Frieren hesitated. The grip on her staff slackened ever so slightly.

"You truly are an unusual demon," she mused. "Enough talk. Reveal your magic."

Ainz regarded them for a long moment before speaking. "Don't throw up then."

With deliberate care, he reached for his ring—a singular artifact crafted to veil his immense magical reserves. As the band slipped from his skeletal finger, the atmosphere in the chamber shifted. A cascade of shimmering energy erupted around him, raw and boundless, its hues shifting like a fractured prism, unlike any magic they had seen before.

The small girl, Sense, spoke first. "Such overwhelming magical energy…"

"Miss Frieren, are you seeing this?" Fern asked, her tone betraying rare unease.

"Yes," Frieren replied, studying Ainz with newfound scrutiny.

Magic, to them, had always been white, pure in its luminance. But this—this was a maelstrom of spectral brilliance, a kaleidoscope of unfathomable power.

Frieren placed a hand upon her chin, deep in thought. "What was your name again?" she inquired at last. "And from where do you hail?"

"Ainz Ooal Gown, ruler of the Great Tomb of Nazarick and The King of the Sorcerer Kingdom," he answered as he returned the ring to its place, once more suppressing the titanic force that lay within him.

A heavy silence followed. Then, at last, Frieren lowered her staff completely.

"Very well," she conceded, though her eyes betrayed no trace of trust. "I will never place faith in the words of a demon. That much will not change." She cast a glance toward the depths of the ruins. "But our priority lies elsewhere. We must reach the heart of these ruins. You will remain here."

"Are you certain, Miss Frieren?" Fern asked, still wary.

"It is a gamble," Frieren admitted. "I am uncertain if I could best a demon of such unknown power." Her gaze sharpened. "Just stay careful."

Fern nodded in understanding. Ainz, for his part, felt a measure of relief. There was no battle, no unnecessary bloodshed.

If this were Demiurge, they would have been eradicated already.

As the group pressed onward, Ainz allowed them to distance themselves before invoking a spell. In an instant, he vanished from sight, slipping into the shadows with practiced ease.

I must take care not to use magic recklessly.*

The architecture spoke of an age long past, yet there was something about its craftsmanship that piqued his curiosity.

They called this place a ruin, and where there are ruins, there are treasures.*

But such thoughts would have to wait. For now, he had a different task—to observe these peculiar travelers.

From the veil of invisibility, he followed.

"Miss Frieren, do you have any thoughts about that demon, Ainz Ooal Gown?" Fern inquired as they pressed forward.

Frieren did not answer at once. When she spoke, her words were measured. "I don't know."

Fern blinked, taken aback. "What do you mean?"

Ainz felt a twinge of unease. If Frieren truly suspected the nature of his arrival, then it was all the more reason to proceed with caution.

Their journey led them ever downward, into the depths of the ruin. Then, at last, they came upon a grand chamber, where a group of individuals had gathered. Among them stood an old man, a warrior, a woman, and a girl who seemed close in age to Fern. They lingered before a vast door, as if wary of what lay beyond.

"What is happening here?" Frieren asked.

"Judging by its design, this must be the deepest layer of the ruin," the old man explained.

"And?" Frieren pressed.

"They've been standing there for half a day," he gestured toward the door.

Frieren stepped forward, peering through a narrow gap. Ainz, compelled by curiosity, did the same.

What he saw froze him in place.

Beyond the threshold stood two figures. One bore his own skeletal visage, regal and imposing. The other was none other than Frieren herself.

A cold silence settled over the chamber.

"This is troublesome," Frieren muttered.

"Indeed," the old man agreed. "Seeing you standing there alone would already be a nightmare, let alone with a demon whose power is unknown."

"But the demon clone isn't emitting any magical energy, so it might not be a big problem," the woman observed. "The real issue is Frieren's clone."

"They're perfect clones, right?" Frieren asked, to which the woman nodded. "If that's the case, this will be really difficult, because I alone already possess great power. With that demon's clone added to the mix, this is as good as a total defeat."

"Why is that?" the old man asked. "As Methode said, the demon's clone has no magical energy at all."

"That's because he's completely hiding it. He has an extraordinarily vast amount of magical power," Frieren explained.

At that moment, Ainz decided to take action.

"In that case, let me help," Ainz said, revealing himself.