Chapter 2 | Butterflies Caught in a Spider’s Web

 

1

A number of workers gathered at the count’s place before dawn. Including Hekkeran and the rest of Foresight, who were the last to arrive, there were eighteen. They were all skilled workers from the imperial capital who had been rounded up for this job.

The teams observed one another with appraising eyes, keeping a short distance between groups. The way they all turned simultaneously to look at Foresight when they arrived was quite a sight, in a way.

“Ah, I’ve seen a few of these faces around. Or actually, didn’t we just run into Mr. Beetle over there on the Katze Plain?”

“Huh? Didn’t I tell you at the inn? Gringham’s team got the request, too. Did I not say that? I’m pretty sure I said something to that effect… But anyhow, behold this concentration of the empire’s most famous workers! A round of applause for our requester’s deep pockets!”

“We can do without the applause. More importantly, it looks like the team leaders are over there.”

Though the workers were split up by team, three people had gathered to exchange information.

“Gringham’s there, so yeah. Okay, I’ll go say hello.”

“…What the—! Ugh. He’s here, too? Ahh, I see. So those elf girls are… He’s the worst. Drop dead, shitbag,” Imina snapped. She was only murmuring in a low voice but with enough hostility that Hekkeran and the others quickly looked around.

“Miss Imina!”

“I know, Rober. We’re teammates for this job… I just don’t want to see his face.”

“I don’t like that guy, either.”

“When it comes to like or dislike, I’m not fond of him, but we still have to watch our attitudes.”

Hekkeran got in between Imina, whose face said, Oh, be quiet, and Roberdyck, and he playfully shrugged his shoulders. “Hey, hey, I gotta go say hi, so don’t talk like that now. I won’t be able to keep it off my face!”

“Good luck, leader.”

At Roberdyck’s cheer, he pulled a face and said, “Ya, sure, it’s just me.” Then he approached the other three leaders.

The first one to greet him as he neared was a worker in silver full plate armor. Since the armor was bizarrely rounded and had huge shoulders, it made the man look less like a person and more like an upright rhinoceros beetle.

Judging from the horn jutting out from the forehead of his close helmet, that’s what he was going for.

However, one thing he probably wasn’t going for was the impression that a child had stood a rhinoceros beetle up on two feet—his legs were short. To put it kindly, he stood with his short, stout legs planted firmly on the ground—like a dwarf warrior might.

“As I suspected, thou hast come, Hekkeran.”

“Hey, Gringham. Yeah, the terms were pretty good.”

He raised a hand to wave at the other two. The greeting was a bit relaxed for the situation, but they didn’t seem to be offended. The four of them were wildly different ages and experience levels, but they were all capable workers.

“If you only brought”—Hekkeran looked at Gringham’s team and counted before continuing—“five people, where are the rest of your members?”

“They’re resting, washing away their fatigue. And due to the injuries incurred during the recent work in which thou also participated, various repairs and purchases need be made.”

This man, Gringham, was the leader of Heavy Masher, a large worker team of fourteen.

Naturally, there were benefits to having so many members. Since they could take a number of different approaches to any given job, Heavy Masher could act very practically. It was a major strength to be able to customize the team to fit individual requests.

But there were also drawbacks. Since rewards were shared, each member’s take was smaller. And it also took more time to make decisions, so they were less agile.

With those pros and cons, depending on the workers’ personalities, it wouldn’t be surprising for a team that big to split apart, so the fact that Gringham could hold them all together was an indication of his excellent management ability.

“Hmm. Sounds tough. Maybe you should join our team; then you won’t have to get cursed for making so much without them.”

“What a daft proposal. A leader must reward his team when their work is done. So, albeit unfortunately for thee, we’ll take the liberty of achieving excellent results.”

“C’mon, gimme a break. And you can totally talk like normal, you know!”

Gringham flashed a smile.

Sensing some negative sentiment, Hekkeran shrugged his shoulders and turned to another man. “I think this is the first time we’ve properly met.”

When Hekkeran offered his hand and greeting, the man took it.

He had strong, firm hands.

His tapered eyes moved to focus on Hekkeran.

“Foresight. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

His voice was cool, like the clear ringing of a bell. Well, it did go with his looks.

“You too, Tenbu.”

There were probably no workers who hadn’t heard of this genius warrior. He was undefeated at the arena. In one sense, his team, Tenbu, was made up of just himself—which is why Imina had made such a face when she saw him.

“I’m happy to be teaming up with a genius swordsman said to be equal to the kingdom’s strongest, Gazef Stronoff.”

“Thank you. But perhaps you meant that soon he will be equal to me, Elya Uzruth.”

“Ohhh, well then!”

Elya smiled faintly, producing an expression that could be read as arrogance. In response, Hekkeran blinked several times to conceal the emotion that threatened to appear in his eyes.

“I’ll be expecting a lot out of your sword in the ruins.”

“Yes, please do. I just hope there are some monsters in there who will put up a fight.” He patted the weapon on his hip.

“We don’t know what kind of monsters are in there. Could be dragons!”

“How terrible. If something as powerful as a dragon showed up, we might be in for a tough battle, but I’ll show you how to win.”

Hekkeran smiled with his mouth only, saying, “I see, I see,” and continued to suppress his emotions while observing the reaction of the remaining leader in his peripheral vision.

Given the rumor that Elya could win against an orichalcum-rank adventurer in a duel of blades, it wasn’t so simple to declare his response simple bragging. Besides, it was good to have confidence in one’s skills and crucial for workers to emphasize their abilities.

Of course, that was only if one didn’t try too hard and fail.

Dragons were the most powerful race in the world.

They flew through the sky and loosed their “breath.” Their scales were hard, and their physical ability was unequaled. As they aged, they learned to use magic. They boasted life spans to which those of humans could never be compared, and the wisdom they accumulated was enough to make even sages prostrate themselves before them.

It was precisely because they were so strong that they appeared in stories so often, whether as an evil enemy or an ally to the hero.

The Thirteen Heroes’ adversary in their last adventure had been a divine dragon. Heroes’ ultimate opponents were often dragons.

If Elya was arrogant enough to suggest that they take on a dragon just because it came up in conversation, the only possible response was shock. His theatrical delivery might have indicated a joke, but unfortunately his eyes were dead serious. How inflated could his ego possibly get?

Considering that they didn’t know what kind of monsters were in the ruins, Hekkeran was sure judging Elya’s mentality a liability to the team was the right move. I should keep my distance from him.

Collapsing is his prerogative, but if he leans on us, he’ll be a burden, Hekkeran noted with a faint smile, and he decided to amend their handling of him—they would use him and dump him.

“So those are the members of Foresight, huh? Ohh?” Contempt and prejudice appeared in Elya’s eyes when he saw Imina.

It was rumored that Elya was from the Slane Theocracy, a religious nation where they believed humans were most sacred. Its citizens tended to consider those with nonhuman blood to be a notch inferior.

To a man like that, the idea that the half-elf Imina was participating in this job on the same level as him was probably offensive. This is why people think that rumor is true… But if he was from the Theocracy, he’d have a baptismal name. Oh, right, but some people say he discarded it…

Grumbling in his head, he made sure to say something, as well. “…Hey, make sure you keep your hands off my teammates!”

“Of course. We’re comrades for this job. I’ll be good.”

“I want to believe you.”

Elya was like a child with power who had only matured in size, or rather, his mental unbalance was palpable. Hekkeran had given his warning, but he still got bad vibes that didn’t let him rest easy.

“What? Please do. Then, getting back to our original topic, I’d like to pass on taking command during our trip. Barring extremes, I’ll follow the orders of whoever leads the group, and I don’t mind being the vanguard in a fight. I’ll conquer everything with my katana.”

“Okay, got it.”

“…Then I’ll be getting back to my team. If you need anything, please call me.”

Elya bowed and walked away.

Hekkeran nearly scowled when he saw the multiple women waiting for him, but he couldn’t let his feelings show. There were times when other people knowing one’s emotions was a disadvantage. If he was going to get caught in that kind of spot, he wasn’t fit to be a team leader.

He buried his reaction and erased his expression.

Shifting his gaze as if averting his eyes from something unclean, he greeted the last remaining team leader.

“Hello, sir. You’re looking well.”

“Hallo, Hekkeran. You’re lookin’ fine yourself!” The whistling quality of the man’s voice was due to the fact that he’d lost most of his front teeth.

Palpatra “Green Leaf” Ogrion…

His nickname came from the armor he wore, which sparkled like a leaf covered in morning dew. It wasn’t made from metal but from the scales of a green dragon. Palpatra’s team had successfully hunted the beast. Of course, it hadn’t been such a big one, but dragons were beyond what workers and adventurers could usually handle.

Palpatra was an eighty-year-old man.

Most people in this line of work retired in their midforties—the faster ones got out before they even hit forty. The number of adventurers dropped abruptly past age fifty. As expected, people who did this harsh work sidled up next to death couldn’t ignore their physical decline.

And actually, although he was an exception, he had still fallen quite far from his peak—during his heyday he was said to have been orichalcum rank. And yet, he remained on the front lines.

Palpatra was so old, but he was still working. Most of the people in the industry respected him.

“That one seems a mite risky, eh?”

Palpatra’s wrinkled face grew even more wrinkly as he lowered his voice, and Hekkeran voiced his agreement. “Right? I don’t care if he wants to destroy himself, but I’m not interested in going down with him.”

“It’s true that he’s strong, but that sort of overconfidence can spread to fellow travelers. It’s extremely dangerous.” Gringham emitted a low groan that seemed to say, What do we do with this guy? There was probably no worker who didn’t think that, faced with Elya’s attitude.

“Actually, how strong is he? I haven’t been to the arena lately…”

“Thou knowest not? I do. And thou, sir?”

“Just stories—I haven’t seen him with my own eyes. If I ask my teammates, they might know something. What’s the standard anyway? If we say Gazef Stronoff is the peak, then where would someone everyone knows, say, the Four, rank?”

“The knights nicknamed Heavy Bomber, Unshakable, Lightning, and Storm Wind? It’s hard to rank them. They’re certainly not as strong as the captain of the Royal Select, but Gazef Stronoff being on top is also in the past. With the passage of time, new powers will emerge.”

“Are you saying Uzruth could be one of those? Is he really that strong? Actually, I’ve never seen the Four up close. Probably the most powerful I’ve seen is the emperor’s direct report, the captain of the Silver Guard. He’s pretty tough—equal to the Four, maybe?”

“The strongest I know are the Council State’s dragonlords. Humans could never defeat them.”

“Some say there are five, but some say seven… Oh, but we’re trying to figure out a yardstick to use to rank Elya, so let’s limit it to human fencers only.”

“In that case, most of the Argland Council State’s fencers get excluded because they’re subhumans. Same can be said for the martial kings of the arena. Then how about the female holy knight of the sacred kingdom Roebel with her divine swords? That said, when it comes to pure fencing ability, I’m not sure…”

As a worker, it was extremely important to gather information about who was strong for carrying out jobs. If someone got in the way, knowing who they were could make the difference between a win and a loss. Of course, a warrior would end up learning about others in the swordsmanship world as a matter of course.

What was happening right now was the same thing. The conversation that had started with the question of how strong Elya was had gradually gained steam and was turning into an exchange of powerful character info. It resembled a group of kids going, That guy’s strong!

“The Slane Theocracy’s overall level is high, but I don’t hear many rumors about exceptional individuals. Even if they have them, they’re faith casters, so they don’t count.”

“One of the top-ranked adventurers in the kingdom is a woman warrior. What about her?”

“Oh, you mean ‘pecs, not breasts’? She’s strong, yeah. But I heard she lost to the captain of the Royal Select in a formal dual.”

“…I heard she nearly killed someone who called her that. Hya-hya-hya! What a terrifying woman!”

“Once you start listing names, it gets hard to keep it to just sword users. The city states have the Brave Warrior and the Dark Knight. The Dragon Kingdom has ‘Furious Flash’ Celebrate from the adamantite-rank adventurer team Crystal Tear and ‘Deep Red’ Optix from the worker team Blazing Crimson. In the kingdom…Brain Unglaus?”

The conversation paused for the first time.

“Brain Unglaus? Who’s that?”

“Thou have not heard? He’s a well-known swordsman in the kingdom… And thou?”

Hekkeran shook his head. He’d never heard that name before.

“Thou knowest not, hmm?” Unable to hide his disappointment, he spoke in an indefinite tone as if digging up old memories. “This happened a long time ago, but I faced him in the quarterfinals of the kingdom’s royal tournament. At the time, I was nowhere as strong as he.”

“Was that the tournament that Gazef Stronoff won?”

“Indeed. In the end, Unglaus lost to Stronoff, but their dual was worthy of close attention. They were both truly model fencers. I kept thinking things like, How’d he block that? and Oh, in this situation you can curve your blade to strike… I can only say I was lucky to witness it.”

If a man of Gringham’s caliber was saying that, and Brain held his own against the warrior said to be strongest in any nearby kingdom, then he must be one first-rate fighter.

There are a lot of tough guys in the world I’ve just never heard of…, thought Hekkeran admiringly.

“Hmm. So then who do you personally think is stronger, that Unglaus fellow or Uzruth?”

“Uzruth,” Gringham answered immediately. “Compared to Unglaus at the time of the tournament, definitely Uzruth. I saw him recently at the arena, so I’m confident.”

“In other words, he’s equal to the captain of the Royal Select a few years ago? He’s that strong?! Whoops.” Hekkeran lowered his voice after getting so excited he’d been shouting.

“I see. Unglaus, hmm? I guess I should make sure to keep up to date on the kingdom… Speaking of which, have you heard the big news? About the third adamantite-rank adventurer team?”

“Of course I have, sir.”

“Ah, sorry. I haven’t.”

“Hekkeran…thine ignorance will endanger thy team.”

“I realize that, but I can’t go around gathering info on kingdom adventurers. That’d be a waste of money.”

“Hya-hya-hya. You got some mettle! I like you.”

“Sir, I’d like to get your opinion: I’ve heard the rumors about Momon of Raven Black, but are they not overblown? Did his team truly beat a giant basilisk with only two people? With no one specialized in healing…?”

“Whoa, that can’t be true.”

It would be nearly impossible to kill a giant basilisk with two people. Not even an adamantite-rank team could do it.

“So we agree, Hekkeran? The more information I gather, the more suspicious he appears. There is even one story that says during the incident in the kingdom he slayed a demon over two hundred difficulty in one blow. This is merely my theory, but dost thou think perhaps the kingdom adventurers’ guilds fabricated the stories and promoted him to adamantite in order to increase their own influence?”

“Could be. The appearance of a high-rank adventurer is major. But would the guild really fudge his rank like that? They can be pretty stubborn.”

“Depends on the city. Each guild master is a little different. The head of the guild I had back when I was an adventurer was the nastiest variety. I socked him right in the face! Hya-hya-hya! That’s why I’m a worker now!” Palpatra laughed heartily.

The story of how he became a worker was notorious. There probably weren’t any workers in the imperial capital who didn’t know it. Anyone who went drinking with him heard it over and over.

“Still, I doubt they would do that.”

“So you’re saying those things are true?”

“It’s hard to believe. Even giving them the benefit of the doubt—although common sense says a difficulty rating over two hundred is already fishy—he wouldn’t be able to defeat something so strong in one blow. If anything, maybe the rumor is exaggerated? A high-difficulty demon appeared, a few teams took it on, and the team that dealt the final blow was Raven Black?”

“That’s more plausible.”

“Anyone stronger than orichalcum rank is crammed into adamantite, so I wouldn’t be surprised if there were someone that strong. There has to be a wide range of adamantite abilities.”

“So Hekkeran shares my opinion, but thou, sir, deem the stories true?”

“Hya-hya-hya! Well, not all of them!”

“So seeing is believing? I’d like to meet him someday…sort of…”

Just as the other two were agreeing with Hekkeran, they heard the sound of flesh being struck and a woman’s stifled scream.

The eyes of all the workers present gathered on one point. Several who expected an emergency were already lowering their hips to take a combat-ready stance.

The scream had come from a woman on Elya’s team who was now collapsed at his feet. Given the circumstances, no one had any doubt that he’d knocked her down. Looking up at his face twisted in anger, she begged for forgiveness, frightened.

As Hekkeran suppressed the disgust welling up from the pit of his stomach, something flashed across his mind and he turned hurriedly to check on Imina.

Just as he imagined, all emotion had drained from her face. The only thing he sensed was a dangerous energy, as though she might attack at any moment.

He hurriedly signaled to Roberdyck and Arché next to her that they should intervene.

Personally, he felt the same as Imina, but he couldn’t go sticking his nose into other teams’ business. Not that it wasn’t possible, just that if he were going to do it, he’d have to be ready to take full responsibility for the outcome. Several members of other teams were grimacing in disgust, but for the same reason as him, none of them moved to do anything, either.

Somehow, reason won over. Imina made an obscene gesture at Elya’s back and spat on the ground.

“…I guess he’s only equal to the captain of the Royal Select when it comes to fencing. It’d be great if he were his equal in humanity, too, but I guess that’s too much to hope for. Well, shall we call that good for the small talk?”

“Yes, you’re here now, so we have some important things to decide.”

“Who will act as overall commander? He’s already declined.”

A silence fell.

There were four teams total. Certainly, they were an impressive force, but without someone to unify them and give direction, they wouldn’t be very well coordinated. It didn’t matter how many arms one had; if they couldn’t be used at the same time, it was the same as having one.

Managing these teams with their different personalities would be difficult, and doing it without getting complained at would be nearly impossible. Whoever took charge would be hated by the other teams if their orders led to failure or they were suspected of prioritizing their own team’s reward.

Frankly, for how much skill it demanded, the job had more cons than pros.

Knowing that, the team leaders remained silent and tried to gauge one another’s moods. They seemed to want to push it on the one who brought it up.

After the lull had lasted about a minute, Hekkeran finally said, looking exhausted, “Honestly, we’re probably fine without an overall commander, right?”

“Isn’t that just putting off the issue? We’ll have a problem once a battle begins.”

“I propose taking turns. That should get us through this with the least discontent. I think we can confer once more when we arrive at the ruins…”

“Ahh.”

“Right.”

Hekkeran and Palpatra agreed to Gringham’s suggestion.

“Then shall we take turns going in the order we arrived?”

“What should we do about Uzruth’s team, Tenbu?”

“That little punk won’t care if we skip him. There’s no way he’s qualified anyway.”

“I agree, sir. Then I, from Heavy Masher, shall take the liberty of leading first.”

“Thanks, Gringham.”

“Counting on you, young’un!”

“Yes, sir. That said, the chance of any savage monsters appearing within the empire is as good as nonexistent. The problems will start once we enter the kingdom, especially as we near the Tove Woodlands.”

“Ahh, maybe we should have gone in reverse order!” Hekkeran jokingly cradled his head in his hands, and the other two laughed quietly. Then they immediately tensed up and turned to face a man walking toward the group of workers. Everyone else was already looking his way.

It was finally light out, and the count’s butler was approaching across the lawn. His back was straight as he walked—the appropriate posture for one serving a count.

When he arrived before the workers, he bowed. No one responded in kind, but he took no notice and began to speak. “It is time. Thank you very much for taking on the count’s request. Two men from the house will accompany you. There will also be a total of six adventurers to guard the wagons and so on. Your destination is an area of unexplored ruins located in the kingdom—what seems to be a tomb. You will stay there to make your survey for three days. Additional compensation will depend on what my master gains from the information you bring him and will therefore be decided at a later date. Are there any questions?”

The butler didn’t say very much that was different from the request they’d already heard. The only new information was that there would be adventurers attached as guards.

They were interested in where the tip on the ruins had come from, but every worker knew the difference between questions that would get answered and questions that wouldn’t. Anything that was likely to be shared they would have heard already at the request stage.

Besides, if it was a clean job, the count would have used adventurers. The requester was sure to be tight-lipped about a dirty job, and it was safer for everyone not to ask.

“…Very well. I will lead you to the wagons we have prepared.”

There were no objections, and everyone followed behind him.

The members of Foresight brought up the rear.

“That piece of shit should die. Whaddaya think? Should we kill him?”

Unable to hold back her hatred for Elya, Imina began spewing it into Hekkeran’s ear the moment she was next to him.

Was her voice lowered because she was seething or because she had retained some self-control? He couldn’t tell, but he hoped it was the latter.

“I’d heard the rumors, but he truly is a despicable man, isn’t it?”

“The worst.”

The other two didn’t hide their disgust, either.

That was only natural for Foresight. With a woman like Imina as a member, the things Elya did were unforgivable to them.

All the members of Elya’s team besides Elya were women—elf women.

If that were all, neither Imina nor her teammates would have taken issue. But there was a reason they unanimously declared him a vile bastard.

Although all the women had the minimum amount of gear, the material and make of it was shabby. That, and the long elven ears that should have been sticking out from under their cropped hair had been sliced off.

They were in that condition because they—all of Elya’s team members—were elf slaves from the Slane Theocracy.

The empire’s slavery system had changed a lot under the previous emperor. They had slaves in name, but the slaves’ actual status was somewhat different. There were also still some slaves, however, such as the subhumans made to fight in the arena, for whom nothing had changed.

The elf slaves Elya had with him were that kind.

The Baharuth Empire, Re-Estize Kingdom, and Slane Theocracy were made up of nearly 100 percent humans and had a more exclusionary attitude toward nonhuman races than other countries in the area. For that reason, even other humanoids—like Imina, who was a half elf—found them difficult to live in.

The only exception was dwarves. Up in the Azerlisia Mountains that ran along the border between the Baharuth Empire and the Re-Estize Kingdom was a dwarf kingdom. Since the empire traded with them, the dwarf race was a properly protected class.

“I feel bad for the elves, too, but our job right now isn’t to save them.”

Imina sighed deeply. She knew that logically. Her emotions just couldn’t keep up.

“Let’s go,” Imina replied simply and walked out in front as they increased their speed a little to catch up with the others. Then everyone’s eyes popped open in surprise.

The butler had led them to the two rather large covered wagons that were being prepared for the trip to the ruins. A group of people was loading them with supplies. They must have been the adventurers the butler had mentioned. The plates around their necks sparkled gold.

Their surprise wasn’t at these people, but at the horses that would pull the wagons.

“Sleipnirs…”

Voices gasped in astonishment.

Eight-legged sleipnirs were bigger than normal horses, as well as superior in terms of muscular strength, stamina, and mobility, which is why they were considered the best magical beast on land.

Of course, that made them worth a lot—more than five warhorses. It was rare for even nobles to possess them.

But the count had two hitched to each wagon for a total of four. Probably he’d considered the possibility that they could be lost over the course of the adventure, so all the workers could do was applaud his resolution. Or does he think there is enough treasure in the ruins that we’ll need sleipnirs to carry it all back?

Some of the others must have been thinking the same thing. There were several audible gulps.

“Please use these wagons. Food and other supplies are packed inside. We’ve also employed some adventurers to guard the wagons and your campsite. Please bear in mind that their contract strictly prohibits them from entering the ruins.”

Hekkeran left his friends and jogged over to Gringham, thinking they needed to have a meeting right away.

“’Scuse me, Gringham. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“What is it? Did something happen?”

“It’s about how to split up the wagons. Do you think my team could be separate from Tenbu?”

“Huh? Oh. I understand thine anxiety. About her, right? Then my team will go with Tenbu.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“Make no mention of it. For this job, we’re companions. I’m not interested in having any spats before we even begin our survey of the ru—”

“Do you think we’ll be okay with gold-rank adventurers? We’ll have problems if we get back and our base is destroyed or monsters slip past them while we’re sleeping.”

The pair turned in the direction of the loud voice whose sudden comment had been launched like a fireball.

It was Elya shouting in the butler’s direction, but at the sound of his voice—he hadn’t even tried to be discreet—the adventurers stopped loading the supplies as if time had frozen.

When looking up, there were always farther heights, and no way to tell if one would be able to climb to them or not. To people who nevertheless advanced step-by-step, Elya’s comment was utterly offensive. They, too, lived in a struggle for power, so having a job end with their abilities in question—especially by the requester—would impact future jobs. They needed to show off their capability in an indisputable way.

The man who hurled this abuse, considered unforgivable by the workers and adventurers alike, was a person who couldn’t put himself in other people’s shoes—which is why he went on without even noticing how sour the atmosphere had gotten. “No, I understand that they’re fine for carrying luggage. I’m only concerned about whether they can keep danger away or not.”

For crying out loud. Nothing good will come of this tension. I imagine they’ll just take it since this is for work, but still…

It was true that all the worker teams present were probably mythril equivalent; in other words, they were stronger than the adventurers. Still, there were things that were all right to say and things that weren’t.

Somebody make him stop, even if you have to hit him.

The workers’ eyes were hard as they glanced at one another, and Hekkeran ran over to Imina. She’d be in danger if a sword fight broke out.

But the one who struck wasn’t any of the workers. “Sir…Uzruth, correct? We assure you there will be no problems.”

“That’s assuming we work together, right? If that’s the case, then it makes more sense…”

“No, it’s because someone even stronger than all of you will also be accompanying you. Momon—”

Responding to the butler’s icy voice, a warrior clad in full plate armor poked his helmeted head out of one of the wagons. Up until then, he must have been carrying supplies set on the cargo bed farther in.

“Allow me to introduce you. This is Momon, from the two-person adventurer team Raven Black, an adamantite rank. His teammate Nabe is also here. These two will accompany you and guard your camp. Will that be satisfactory?”

The atmosphere underwent another dramatic change. The highest rank possible for anyone adventuring to attain… With proof of that ultimate strength before their eyes, the workers were rendered speechless.

Mollified by the genuine reactions of the workers to the appearance of the most elite adventurers, the gold ranks returned to loading supplies. The one who seemed like their leader, wearing a smile that seemed almost deliberate, addressed the raven-black warrior. “We’ll do the rest, so would you go ahead and get to know the workers? We’d like you, as our leader, to have a meeting with them about our security plan.”

“Got it. If your team is fine with that, then I humbly accept your proposal. That said, I think your team should lead the security planning. You have more people. It seems like it would be easier to have you guys do the bulk of it.”

“Humbly?! What are you saying? And we could not possibly disrega—”

“No, I insist that you take point on security. Utilize us well! Nabe.” With a faint chuckle he stepped lightly out of the cargo bed. An astonishingly beautiful woman followed behind him.

Where a gorgeous woman appeared, a fuss was certain to follow. But there existed a level of beauty that didn’t allow for that. Those who saw a truly beautiful woman could only stare.

“Hekkeran, she’s…”

“Yeah, Rober. I was thinking the same thing. We saw her in the northern market. That’s…Momon of Raven Black. And his sole teammate? The rumor that they took out that huge giant basilisk doesn’t seem to be an exaggeration.”

“A giant—is that true?”

“Supposedly. Not only that, but I heard from Gringham that he killed a difficulty two hundred demon in one hit.”

“Surely that’s a lie. Difficulty two hundred is in a realm where it’s impossible for humans to win. Did you mishear one hundred?”

“Even that would be amazing. But somehow it doesn’t seem like a lie when you see how he carries himself.”

Hekkeran felt he’d been able to grasp Momon’s personality from the warrior’s short exchange with the guy who must have been the gold-rank team’s leader. He seemed to have the proper presence and charisma of an adamantite-rank adventurer—Hekkeran thought he could grow to like him.

“Before we get to know one another…there’s something I’d like to ask you.”

Momon didn’t speak very loudly, but they could sense his courage in his deep voice.

“Why are you going to the ruins? I know you got a request. But unlike adventurers, who have a hard time turning down a job if the guild insists, you guys aren’t tied to anything, so why did you accept? What motivates you?”

The workers all looked at one another. No one knew who should say it, and it ended up being a member of Palpatra’s team who spoke.

“That would be money.”

It was a perfect response—because there was no greater reason. The workers hadn’t been debating the answer but trying to figure out why Momon, who must have already known something so obvious, would even ask.

Seeing that the other workers were vocalizing their agreement, Momon asked another question. “Does that mean the amount of money offered was worth your lives?”

“Yes. The offer was enough that it made sense to take it. And we can expect additional compensation depending on what we discover in the ruins. I’m fairly certain it’s enough to justify risking our lives.” It was Gringham who answered.

“I see… So that’s your decision. Got it. My apologies for the utterly nonsensical question. Do forgive me.”

“You don’t need to apologize over that… No worries.”

“Hya-hya-hya! Seems like that’s it for your questions, but can I ask one?”

“Go right ahead, sir.”

“I’d like to get confirmation on the rumors. Will you show us the truth of the one that says you’re exceptionally powerful?”

“Ah-ha. ‘Seeing is believing’? Okay, that’s fine. If it will help you be satisfied with our protection, I’ll show you my power. But in what way should I display it?”

“I suppose having you spar with someone would be best.”

Everyone’s eyes gathered on—

“And I said it, so you should fight me.”

“What? Sir…I’m terribly sorry, but I’m not very good at holding back. I don’t intend to hurt you, and I’m not confident I can be a good sparring partner at your level…but if that’s all right, then…?”

“Hya-hya-hya-hya! Well, you are adamantite rank! I’m not even thinking about hurting you.”

A faint chuckle came from beneath Momon’s helmet. “That’s only natural, sir. It’s what you call a clear gap in ability. I’m strong. Stronger than any of you. That’s why I’m adamantite rank!”

Full of overwhelming pride, he seemed to be peering down at them from high above, but no one was offended. That must have been how much power his presence held. The words he spoke and the terrible authority he exuded, as if he’d racked up more than a few kills, were very persuasive.

“…Amazing.”

“……Yeah, amazing.”

Delirious voices commented here and there.

Many women fell for strong men. And many men fell for them as well, in the sense of respect. Like moths fluttering around a flame, people knew that if they got too close they would get burned, but they still couldn’t resist. For those who lived in this world of blood and steel, strength was like a massive bonfire.

“Hya-hya-hya! No one doubts that you’re adamantite rank! Still, how about we get a taste of what you can do? Here, the wagons are in the way. Can we use that big open space over there, sir?”

Having gotten permission from the count’s man, Palpatra led the group over onto the lawn. The workers went with him, of course, but so did the adventurers and the butler.

“I don’t think Palpatra can handle him.”

“That guy is crazy strong.”

“Mm, rather than strong, it’s more like he’s on another level completely. Doesn’t he seem even stronger than both of the empire’s adamantite teams?”

“Yeah, you’re right. The members of Argenti all have rare classes, so their abilities are uncommon, but in terms of power they lose out to the more basic classes. I hear the Eight Ripples are so great because of their numbers and excellent teamwork.”

Argenti was a team whose leader was a bard who’d reached the realm of heroes. All the members had unusual classes. Eight Ripples was a nine-person team. Some people said that each individual member hadn’t reached adamantite rank, that they were only so strong due to their large team size, but others said that by working together they achieved things even other adamantite ranks couldn’t.

Still, one had to wonder if either of them were truly worthy of being called adamantite—humanity’s last resorts, who made the impossible possible.

Hekkeran could hear his teammates whispering about those things behind him.

And it wasn’t just those three. If he concentrated, he could hear all sorts of conversations. The most common topic was speculation about how good a fight Palpatra would be able to put up. Not a single person thought he would beat Momon, because although it had been only a short time, they all considered Momon’s aura enough to convince them he was adamantite rank.

As he was walking, lost in thought, someone fell into step beside him. The noisy metal armor was enough for him to know who it was without looking up.

“How do you think their fight will go, Gringham?”

“I pity Palpatra, but Momon is not likely to lose. It’s more about how well Palpatra will be able to persevere. Dost thou not wish to reserve the next round?”

“Seriously? Count me out. What about you?”

“I decline. I am satisfied by the display of his superior presence. I do hope however to get some training while we’re on the road.”

“Me, too—oh!”

The pair looked out at the lawn where Momon and Palpatra were staring each other down at a distance.

The gleam in Palpatra’s eyes was not that of an ordinary elderly man but a veteran warrior.

His determination gradually mounted, morphing into excitement; the atmosphere was no longer one of a friendly bout.

Everyone watching was anxious and sticky with cold sweat.

“…This can’t be good. Palpatra is taking this seriously!” Gringham inadvertently dropped his forced manner of speaking.

“I get that he’s fighting an adamantite-rank adventurer, so he has to go at him like he means to kill him, bu—” Hekkeran, next to Gringham, gasped as he moved his eyes to the dark warrior facing Palpatra.

From Momon, he felt nothing.

In his stance with both arms dangling down, there was none of the fighting spirit one would expect from someone who was about to clash swords. Like an adult facing a child with a sword, his calm was clearly visible.

“Wow, he’s amazing! Palpatra’s hitting him with that much killing intent and he’s not reacting at all. He can’t not notice it—he’s just at the peak of warriordom. Is that Heights of Nothingness?!”

“Enlightened Mind? Or maybe Realm of the Wandering Priest? He must be awfully sure of himself to look so composed despite the gap between their weapons. Yeah, I’m just amazed.”

Palpatra’s spear was a magic item with a tip carved from a dragon tooth. Meanwhile, Momon was holding a wooden staff he’d borrowed from one of the adventurers; it didn’t look enchanted at all. A magic weapon could have all sorts of effects, like increasing sharpness, boosting the abilities of the one equipping it, or dealing additional damage. At this stage, from a weapon standpoint, it was possible to say Palpatra had a huge advantage.

“Nah, that can’t be true. The gap between them won’t be filled by a weapon. And Momon’s armor seems more enchanted than Palpatra’s. Plus, the items he has equipped are probably more magical, too. Overall, there’s either no gear gap, or Momon is ahead.”

“Don’t be too hasty. Haven’t you heard the rumor that the total value of the magic items Palpatra uses surpasses what adamantite-rank adventurers can afford? He’s fulfilled tons of requests over the years. He’s probably earned the most rewards in the entire empire!”

“Nah, nah, wait a—”

“No, you wait!”

As the two of them chattered on, the combatants’ will to fight hit critical mass and the battle began.

“Okay, here I come!”

“Come at me, sir, but don’t overdo it. This is an important job, r—?”

Without letting him finish, Palpatra charged with elegant power and speed one would never expect from an eighty-year-old man. Meanwhile, Momon didn’t even hold up his staff.

“Dragon Tooth Thrust!”

Hekkeran’s eyes widened as Palpatra didn’t hesitate to use a martial art for his opening move.

He whipped his spear, thrusting to deliver two piercing strikes, like dragon fangs. The attack included a special effect that dealt additional attribute damage. This was a more advanced version of Drill Thrust, which Palpatra had developed over forty years ago. Known for its good balance, the martial art had been learned by many fighters.

The type of Dragon Tooth Thrust he used was Blue Dragon Tooth Thrust—to deal additional lightning damage.

What’s that old man thinking? Sure, you have access to healing magic, but you still wouldn’t normally do something like that in a friendly spar!

Even grazing someone clad in metal armor with a lightning-imbued martial art would be extremely effective; the choice showed Palpatra was going all out.

Though the attack should have been troublesome for a warrior wearing metal, Momon nimbly dodged it. Despite his raven-black full plate armor, he moved so lightly it was like he had wings. More surprisingly, he didn’t jump out of the way or make any large movement; he evaded it completely while barely moving from where he stood.

No way! I can’t imagine what his dynamic visual acuity and physical ability must be!

“Wind Acceleration!” Palpatra used another martial art.

You’re overdoing it, you old fart! Did your age hit your brain?

“Dragon Tooth Thrust!” He assaulted Momon again with the same art as before. This time the tip of the spear was imbued with snowy chill—White Dragon Tooth Thrust.

A total of four chained moves in less than the space of a breath.

The spectators were stunned.

Of course they were. Not a single one of the attacks so much as grazed Momon’s armor.

Palpatra jumped way back. The beads of sweat on his forehead weren’t from exerting his body to attack but from the immense mental pressure of wielding his spear in a battle he couldn’t win.

“Wow!”

“He’s even stronger than you, Hekkeran.”

“Of course he is, Arché. Don’t even compare me to him. That’s what an elite adventurer is. He’s the very top. That’s the power of an adamantite rank.”

“So is it my turn now?”

Momon held up his staff and pointed its tip at Palpatra’s eyes. Meanwhile, the spear Palpatra had been grasping was now leaning against his shoulder. It wasn’t a combat stance, but the stance of someone who no longer had any will to fight, of someone who’d given up.

“Magnificent. Stop, stop. Not only can I not win, I can’t even scratch you.”

“Oh?”

At Palpatra’s declaration of surrender, the onlookers sent up an admiring moan: “Whoaaa.” Momon was truly overpowering. The gap in strength might as well have been that between an adult and a child—he’d shown them that vividly.

Everyone who had watched began chatting, sharing their impressions, wondering what school of footwork he used to dodge, and so on. Leaving them, Hekkeran and Gringham approached Palpatra, who was wiping the sweat from his forehead and talking with Momon.

“You’re already finished, sir?” His tone and manner had changed abruptly. “…Weren’t you about to get serious there?”

“Hya-hya-hya! What a thing to say to an old man like me. I was being serious! That was me being serious, Sir Momon.”

“Oh, er, please excuse me.”

“Oh, please don’t apologize. I’ll feel even worse. And you don’t have to stand on ceremony with me. We should assess each other based on strength, not years lived. It feels quite awkward to be treated with so much respect by someone as overwhelmingly strong as yourself.”

“I see. Then I’ll relax a bit. By the way, stopping here is pretty dissatisfying for me. If there’s a next time, I’ll attack first. Anyhow, I have to load the wagons, so I’ll be going now.”

“Why not let the others load the wagons? That’s not a job for you, is it?”

“No, I disagree. No matter what status you hold, when you’re given a job, you should do it well.”

With that, Momon walked back toward the wagons, and the peerless beauty followed behind him.

The two who arrived just as he was leaving ended up watching him go.

His broad shoulders…

“Hya-hya. You look like you want to ask something.”

“What did you think of him, sir?”

Palpatra’s wrinkled face screwed up. It might have been a bitter smile, but it seemed like something else, as well.

“He’s strong. No, I knew he was strong because he’s adamantite rank. I just had no idea he was this strong. The second we faced each other, I had the feeling that no matter where I tried to hit him, he would block it.”

Hekkeran had felt the same thing—that Momon would easily stop and counter all his attacks. Even if things went according to plan, that armor would repel all the attacks anyway—that was all he could imagine. Palpatra, who had faced him directly, must have experienced the feeling more intensely.

“So that’s…adamantite rank…”

“Yep, that’s adamantite. He’s a being in a realm only a handful of people will ever reach. Ah, he really is magnificent—beautiful. That’s a height I’ll never make it to… You must be pretty satisfied having seen it, though?”

“Truly! I have a better understanding of how you both move after watching that match. It would have been impossible to observe so calmly if I had been the one facing him. Apologies, sir, but I really wanted to see Sir Momon attack.”

“Impossible. He didn’t seem very interested in attacking me. He had no desire to fight. Probably it’s as he said, that he’s not good at holding back. He probably thought hitting me would kill me just like that.”

If that were true, some might have found it arrogant. Palpatra, old though he may have been, was a fairly skilled warrior; it could be argued that Momon had underestimated the veteran without even seeing what he could do.

But the reason he could do that was because he was an adamantite-rank adventurer.

“Well, can’t be helped. The gap in our abilities is just that big. It was frustrating at first, but even if he stuck to defense, once he dodged everything I threw at him, I couldn’t really say anything.”

They’d been shown the meaning of strength.

He had chosen a weapon he wasn’t used to, with totally different heft and balance, because he was that confident. The gap between the two men was that big.

Palpatra walked off, mumbling, “I’m beat, so tired.” He was headed, of course, for the covered wagons.

As Hekkeran watched him go, he heard a quiet voice.

“I couldn’t make it to that realm even in my younger days. So that’s adamantite… So high above me…”

Palpatra’s shoulders looked so small. In comparison, Momon looked enormous—they could sense his power.

“So that’s the most elite rank, adamantite…”

“Yeah, just amazing.”

There was no lack of people who agreed with their admiring comments.

2

A single carriage raced like the wind over the cobblestones of imperial capital Arwinthal.

Pulling the resplendent carriage was an eight-legged magical beast known as a sleipnir. Two able-bodied warriors were seated in the box, and on the roof—the cargo bed had been renovated—crouched four people, including a caster and a warrior with a crossbow, keeping an eye on their surroundings.

Naturally, the reason this rolling defense force, a security detail that was arguably overkill, could go openly down the street was due to the standing of the people inside.

One look at the crest of three crossed staves carved on the side of the carriage was enough for someone with a little education to know whose carriage it was and who was inside. That was why the knights guarding the street didn’t challenge them.

Inside the carriage were three men. In their robes, they all looked like casters.

All three were well-known names in the empire’s magic world, but their attitudes clearly indicated a hierarchical relationship. The most superior of them had white hair.

Just as Gazef Stronoff was known far and wide as a warrior, there was no caster in the region more famous than this elderly man. He was the great caster, the strongest, most elite in the empire—“Triad Caster” Fluder Paradyne.

Sitting across from him were two of his leading disciples, who were so skilled they had good command of tier-four magic.

Though they’d just left the imperial palace, the atmosphere was ruled by an oppressive silence. One of the disciples cautiously spoke, unable to bear it any longer.

“Master, what do you intend to do about His Imperial Majesty’s order?”

Silence reigned over the carriage once more. But it didn’t last long. Fluder answered in a voice that was profound in its quiet. “It’s His Imperial Majesty’s wish. As a retainer, my only choice is to carry it out and investigate. But it’s too dangerous to try with magic. We’ll start by sifting through the records, then we’ll summon demons to gather intelligence.”

“You don’t know him, then, master?”

Fluder closed his eyes and waited a few seconds before opening them again. “Alas, I do not. I’ve never heard of this immensely powerful demon, Jaldabaoth.”

The previous month, a horde of demons had attacked the capital of the kingdom. As far as he had been able to gather, Jaldabaoth and the demon maids who attended him were terrifying beings who might as well have been from another dimension.

Due to this demon disturbance, the order of imperial knights who attacked the kingdom every year hadn’t marched. Usually invading when one’s enemy is exhausted is the proper way to wage war.

But there were two main reasons the empire was invested in this fight.

One was to exhaust the kingdom. While the empire had a standing army, the kingdom’s troops were conscripted. For that reason, whenever the empire mobilized soldiers, the kingdom had to mobilize even more—they were at a disadvantage when it came to the quality of individual soldiers. The empire timed their attack for the harvest period to force the kingdom to draft farmers so they would have a shortage of able hands in the fields. The long-term plan was to make the crops go to waste.

The other reason for the campaigns was to chip away at the power of the nobles within the empire. Nobles who opposed the emperor were made to cough up funds via a special war tax. Naturally, if they refused, their families were ruined for suspected treason. In the end, it was only a difference of being tortured slowly or killed swiftly once and for all.

The reason the empire hadn’t moved this time was that the emperor—Jircniv—had judged that since the kingdom had done them the favor of wearing themselves out, it was unnecessary for the empire to do anything. Besides, the empire’s nobles in the opposition had already lost most of their teeth.

There was just one problem.

Where was Jaldabaoth, the perpetrator of those truly demonic deeds? And what kind of being was he? Both of those things worried him.

It was only natural that Fluder, the most capable caster in the empire, would be tasked with investigating.

“Then there’s the one who routed the demon, Momon of Raven Black, and his companion, Beautiful Princess Nabe. I’m very interested in them. And the mysterious caster Ainz Ooal Gown. Have the retired heroes been stirring? Perhaps a war as fierce as the one with the evil spirits two hundred years ago is about to begin…”

“…Is it?”

“I don’t know. But only a fool prepares for war after it breaks out. A wise man makes arrangements in advance.”

Soon the carriage reached its destination.

Spacious grounds were enclosed by a thick, high wall with several watchtowers guarding both the interior and exterior. Mixed patrol groups of select knights—of the eight orders of imperial knights, the most elite first order—and casters were making their rounds.

Looking up, the emperor’s personal guards mounted on magical beasts, the Imperial Air Guard, and elite casters on watch using flying spells could be seen.

This place was the symbol of the empire’s power, the thing they’d been pouring most of that power into since the previous emperor: the Imperial Ministry of Magic.

The soul of the empire’s magic activities—manufacturing the enchanted arms provided to the knights, developing new spells, performing experimental research to improve the standard of living with magic, and so on—could be said to reside here. And the one in charge of it all—although he wasn’t minister of magic—was Fluder.

The carriage proceeded across the grounds and eventually stopped before the tower at the farthest reaches of the compound.

They had passed by a variety of differently shaped buildings on their way, and a great many people were bustling in and out of all of them. Only this tower had hardly any visitors. Its security, oddly enough, was incomparably tight.

For starters, the knights guarding this tower looked different. They weren’t knights of the first order like the ones who could be seen patrolling the grounds.

Enchanted full plate armor enclosed their bodies head to toe, in their hands they held enchanted shields, and slung on their hips were enchanted weapons. Their crimson capes featuring the imperial crest were also, of course, enchanted.

The magic those items were imbued with wasn’t strong, but even the empire couldn’t outfit ordinary knights with this much magic gear. More than anything, mere knights wouldn’t be assigned to guard one of the empire’s critical agencies.

They were the most elite knights and therefore belonged to the emperor’s personal Imperial Earth Guard.

The casters next to the knights were just as impressive. They had fought in many battles and honed their combat skills, so they seemed every bit as powerful as the veteran warriors.

The entrance to the building was additionally fortified with four stone golems easily over eight feet tall. They fulfilled their guardian duties with no food, rest, or distraction.

The only people allowed in this place, which was protected as well as the emperor himself, were the more advanced tier-three casters or, in rare cases, research casters with specific errands. Of course, Fluder and the pair of leading disciples were among those with entry permission.

Returning the knights’ and casters’ deepest bows with a light wave of his hand, Fluder entered the tower. Upon following the hallway leading straight back, he and his disciples came out at the top of a funnel-shaped space. Many casters were working there industriously. The one who seemed to have the highest status hastened over to Fluder, flustered.

“Anything?”

“Nothing, master.” The disciple swallowed, and his Adam’s apple undulated.

His response was both good and bad news.

Nodding just once with a subtle expression, Fluder turned around to look at him, the deputy head of this place. He was one of the famous Chosen Thirty, the thirty disciples Fluder taught personally.

“I see. So you can’t get them to spawn naturally yet?”

“No, we still can’t get even skeletons of the lowest tier to appear spontaneously. Now we’re experimenting to see if we can get zombies to spawn by placing corpses nearby.”

“Hmm, hmm.” Fluder stoked his long beard and gazed at the scene below.

There were a little over a dozen skeletons—working fields.

They raised their hoes and plunged them into the dirt. The movements of each skeleton were exactly the same. Looking from the side, they all overlapped—they looked like a single monster.

This scene of utter synchronization, like a group of people doing aerobics together, was the empire’s huge, secret project—undead labor.

Undead needed neither food nor sleep, and they never got tired. They were the perfect workers. Certainly they had low intelligence, so they couldn’t do anything beyond what they were ordered and nothing too complicated, but that could be solved by giving them detailed instructions from nearby.

The benefits of unleashing undead on farmland with orders to execute were unfathomable. By lowering labor expenses, the price of produce would decrease, farms and fields could be larger, injuries could be prevented—this project was truly dreamlike.

Similar plans using summoned monsters or manufactured golems had been proposed, but undead were the most cost-effective.

Naturally, there was a reason they couldn’t execute this perfect-seeming plan on a large scale: opposing forces led mainly by the priests. They were against it on the grounds that giving orders to embodiments of death, the antithesis of life, sullied the soul.

There were other, even more religious reasons, as well. They argued that from a spiritual standpoint, using even the corpses of criminals was desecration because once their punishment had been carried out, their souls were wiped clean. That was problematic.

Perhaps if they had been in the middle of a food shortage and many people were starving to death, the ministry would have had more leverage. As it stood, however, the empire had a great supply of food, and there were no signs of labor issues, either.

And so the priests opposed the project.

The ultimate goal was stronger soldiers. If the empire relied on undead to meet production capacity, they could use their human resources for other things and possibly discover powerful knights.

There were also concerns that human workers would be laid off if undead labor became the norm; worries about whether undead would really obey humans forever; fears that with countless undead around, the balance between life and death would collapse and stronger undead would spawn spontaneously—but these were things not only priests but anyone who heard about the plan would think.

This facility existed to verify each concern and solve the problems.

“You haven’t discovered the fundamental cause?”

“No, my apologies, master.”

Why did undead spawn naturally? Their pursuit of the answer had major implications for the future.

The Katze Plain was known as a cursed land, covered by a mist that only cleared during the war between the kingdom and the empire. The spawn rate there was so high that skeletal dragons, one of the most powerful undead, capable of neutralizing all magic spells, could appear.

Even if the empire eventually conquered E-Rantel and its environs, they didn’t want an expanse of land where undead were constantly popping into existence in their territory. Knowing the process by which undead spawned would surely be useful for governing the area. Perhaps they could stop them from spawning ever again.

“I see. Understood.”

The deputy bowed, relieved there was no rebuke, and Fluder set off, walking around the outside of the funnel-shaped room.

By the time he reached the door on the opposite side, the number of leading disciples behind him had grown.

The knight guarding the door pushed it open for them, and the party continued inside. It was another hallway similar to the previous, but this one was completely empty—not a person to be seen. The air smelled dusty, and the light seemed to be in a losing battle with the darkness.

Proceeding straight down the eerie corridor, they came upon a spiral staircase extending below.

They passed through several doors on their way, but their clacking footsteps didn’t echo for very long. They went perhaps five floors down, but the air seemed much heavier than that.

It wasn’t simply because they were underground. This much was clear from the hard expression born of anxiety worn by everyone in the party, including Fluder.

Their faces were grim as they reached the deepest floor, a large open space. The atmosphere was so tense they were practically bracing themselves for combat.

Everyone’s sharp eyes were gathered on the single thick door. This door, so imposing it seemed to be a division between worlds, was fitted with layer upon layer of physical and magic defense so it wouldn’t break or open easily. It was a door that would not permit escape.

The doors they had passed through on their way here also hinted at the danger lurking in the depths. They’d been built as barriers so that if the threat behind this thick door made a move they could seal it away or at least buy time.

Fluder spoke in a hard voice to warn his disciples. “Don’t let your guard down.” His words were brief and to the point, which was what made them terrifying.

The casters accompanying him all bowed low. Fluder gave the same warning every time they came here. Still, knowing what was beyond the door, they couldn’t crack a smile.

Across this threshold was the ultimate undead. There was no doubt that if it was released, an unprecedented disaster would befall the imperial capital.

Several of the disciples began casting protective magic—not only pure physical defense spells but also mental protection. After an appropriate amount of preparation time, Fluder eyed each of his disciples’ faces to make sure they were ready.

With a nod, he spoke the words that unsealed the room’s entrance.

As the magic took effect, the heavy door slowly groaned open.

Darkness made it difficult to see inside the room, but something like a chill radiated out of it, and a couple of the disciples shivered. Even with magic items to protect them from environmental effects, the sheer hatred of the living that emanated from inside was enough to make their blood run cold.

An audible gulp resounded throughout the hall.

“Let’s go.”

At Fluder’s signal, magic light created by the disciples chased the darkness from the room. The banished gloom seemed to gather at the edges of the light and grow even deeper—that’s what it felt like.

With Fluder in the lead, the party entered the room where the presence of death hung in the air.

It wasn’t a very large room, so the light shone to the back almost immediately.

Against the far wall was a giant pillar that stretched up to the ceiling. Shaped almost like a gravestone, it drew the eyes. But something else drew them even more strongly: the thing immobilized and crucified to it.

The undead’s whole body was bound in chains far thicker than a human thumb, so it was completely restrained. The ends of the chains were secured to the cobblestone floor. Not only that, but huge iron balls were attached to the undead’s hands and feet.

Nothing would have been able to move under those conditions. The incredibly thorough restraints showed how wary the casters were of this opponent. It was why even after seeing those fat chains, some of the members of the party had lingering concerns—thoughts like, Couldn’t it easily break through those chains and escape?

It looked like a knight clad head to toe in black armor, but it definitely wasn’t human.

The first thing one noticed was the being’s hulking physique. It was well over six feet tall.

The next was that black full plate armor. It had a pattern like blood vessels running over it and sharp spikes jutting out here and there like embodiments of violence. Its helmet had horns like a demon and an open face that left its rotting features visible. In its vacant eye sockets, its hatred for living things and anticipation of slaughter burned red.

It wasn’t alive but dead. If it weren’t, the amount of malice toward living things it was emanating would have been impossible.

“The death…knight…”

One disciple who had come to this place for the first time murmured the legendary undead’s name. It was an undead so legendary few had even heard of it.

The red glow in the death knight’s eyes appeared to blink and move to size up the casters. No, they couldn’t know how its gaze was shifting just from the flickers of light. But their shivers told them they were being watched.

The casters accompanying Fluder were a handful of capable ones who could use at least tier-three magic. But even they couldn’t stop their teeth from chattering.

Even with the mental protection magic, the fear that welled up inside them couldn’t be stopped. Still, the magic was probably the only reason they were able to stand there and bear it instead of running away.

“Steel your hearts. The weak will perish,” Fluder warned them and approached the death knight.

In response, the undead tried to stamp its feet as it seethed with murderous intent.

The chains gave an ear-piercing screech, but the monster’s body barely moved at all.

Fluder thrust a hand toward it.

His incantation rang out in the magically illuminated room. It was an original spell of his own creation, an improvement on Summon Sixth-Tier Undead.

“Obey me!”

The spell finished casting, and Fluder’s voice melted away.

But the death knight’s eyes still contained a hatred for the living. Everyone could see the magic had failed.

“So I still can’t control it?” There was audible frustration in his voice; it’d been five years, and he still couldn’t dominate this undead.

The monster had been discovered in a region famous for frequently spawning undead, the Katze Plain.

The company of imperial knights who encountered it were not familiar with the monster type, but they had their orders, so they initiated combat as usual. It was ten seconds later that they realized they’d been both hasty and foolish; the imperial knights, known for their great strength, were awash with fear and despair.

The battle was overwhelmingly one-sided—their opponent was too strong.

Many knights had been mowed down before they finally judged that they had no way to deal with the monster and called for a retreat.

Of course, they couldn’t just leave a monster like that out there. Especially after seeing the fallen knights turned into undead, it was clear that giving their opponent time would lead to serious damage.

Following a clamorous debate among top imperial executives, they decided to play their trump card as their first move: They would mobilize the strongest power in the empire—Fluder and his disciples.

And as is evident from the fact that the death knight was restrained in this basement, the battle ended with Fluder and company’s victory. But the only reason they could win was that the death knight couldn’t fly. They carpet-bombed it, shooting Fireball over and over until its movements slowed, and eventually Fluder, who was attracted by its overwhelming power, was able to capture it.

With it tied up here, he was trying every method that had worked to control normal undead—all sorts of spells and magic items—to conquer it.

“It’s too bad… If I could control his monster, I would be the greatest caster, surpassing even…”

One of the Thirteen Heroes, tamer of the dead Ligritte Belzú Kaurau—he would far exceed her.

Really, Fluder didn’t yearn for power so much. His true wish was to peer further into the abyss of magic. This was just one part of that process.

His disciples didn’t know that. That’s why their attempts to comfort him missed their mark.

“Master, I think you’ve already surpassed her.”

“Absolutely. The Thirteen Heroes are in the past, master. They can’t compete with you where you are on the frontier of contemporary magic.”

“I think you’ve already surpassed the Thirteen Heroes, as well, but if you could control the death knight, you’d be the greatest power in all the empire.”

“They say an individual can’t win against a mob, but that is only true when the individual is weak. This death knight is the strongest individual…”

No one could see Fluder’s little wry smile, because he was standing at the head of the group. All they could see was the hatred in the eyes of the death knight.

“But if even you can’t control it, master… How strong could this death knight be?”

“Hmm…I don’t know. Theoretically, I should be able to. So I must be lacking something. Does anyone have any ideas?”

His query was met with silence.

It was possible to control undead using magic. One of the Thirteen Heroes had done it. With Fluder’s ability, he could dominate fairly upper-tier undead. Maybe he would even be able to control the one before them as well.

But that was simplistic thinking; magically controlling undead was more complex. Domination and destruction of undead was fundamentally the realm of priests, who borrowed the power of the gods. Fluder was trying to shoehorn magic in as a substitute for divine power, so it was no wonder there were all sorts of discrepancies.

“I don’t mean to insult you, master, but…”

One of his disciples spoke up hesitantly, and Fluder gestured for him to continue.

“Perhaps you aren’t powerful enough? For instance, if there were a seventh tier of magic, maybe it could be summoned from that realm?”

“That is certainly a good point.”

“I heard that adventurers give monsters numerical difficulty ratings. What if you thought of it along those lines?”

“I heard that those numbers are really rough and pretty pointless once you figure in age and physique,” another disciple chimed in.

“But even though it doesn’t work for unknown monsters, there’s no easier way to conceptualize difficulty, is there? The numbers are based on adventurers’ battle impressions and a wide range of other data, so they can’t be completely off the mark.”

“Then don’t you think it would be useless for the stuff of legends like a death knight?”

“That reminds me, master. There’s that mysterious volume full of information about monsters. It’s not in there?”

“No, it’s not.” Fluder stroked his beard. “There might be a complete version in Elyuentiu, but the only one circulating is incomplete.”

Puzzled, one of the disciples turned to the one next to him and asked a question. He spoke softly, but the room was a knot of silence. It sounded much louder than it was. “What in the world is Elyuentiu?”

“The name of a city!”

“I know that. It just seems like a weird name.”

“Yeah… I looked it up once. Apparently, it means ‘tree at the center of the world’ in the language that was spoken in those parts in ancient times.”

Fluder struck the floor with his staff as a warning to the two disciples who had started chatting without permission. They were in the dangerous presence of a legendary undead—they couldn’t let their guard down here.

They heeded the warning immediately, and silence ruled the room once more. The only sound was the death knight’s chains straining as he tried to break them.

“It’s unfortunate, but I have nothing left to do here—at least for today. Let’s go.”

“Yes, master.”

Several voices containing a hint of relief answered, and Fluder left the death knight’s presence.

Even the mighty Fluder couldn’t keep his footsteps the same speed going in and coming out. With that gaze pounding his back, his footsteps quickened in spite of himself. Of course, that went for his disciples as well.

As Fluder walked through the darkness, he recalled his disciples’ earlier conversation.

Elyuentiu…

The capital of the country the Eight Kings of Avarice had built and the only of its cities still standing. It was also the city defended by the Thirty City Guardians equipped with incomparably powerful magic armor.

If the magic items left behind by the Eight Kings of Avarice are really still there, thought Fluder, I could probably use them to advance my skills. They were fantastic magic items no one could acquire; the only ones permitted to carry any of them were the Thirteen Heroes.

A dark flame flickered in Fluder’s heart.

The Thirteen Heroes. Heroes of old. Even though he should have been powerful enough to stand among them, they were permitted, yet he was not. In what way was he inferior?

Hoping to put out the flame sputtering within him, he summoned comforting thoughts. The position he held, the things he’d built… They weren’t inferior to the Thirteen Heroes’ accomplishments. On the contrary, his position among the empire’s casters surely put him ahead of them.

But once lit, the black fire—envy—wouldn’t be extinguished so easily. He wasn’t jealous of strength, wit, or ability; he envied the pioneers who got the chance to peer into the abyss of magic.

Fluder was an elite caster. Everyone acknowledged that, and probably the only ones who could be considered his equals were the Thirteen Heroes. But he couldn’t give orders to the death knight, and he could only use up to tier six of the supposed (data was not terribly reliable) ten tiers of magic. Those realities rubbed the truth in his face—that he was still far from the abyss.

He was getting on in years.

As he was a psychic caster, one of the trees of supernatural secrets he mastered was forbidden curses. Because it was forbidden magic, it couldn’t be used, but use it Fluder did, and he stopped his aging. Of course, considering the tiers he had mastered, the spell was too difficult for him. He’d forced it to cast by fusing it with a ritual.

Because he had tried to make the impossible possible, there were clear distortions in the power; if he had cast it perfectly, he wouldn’t age at all, but Fluder still felt the effects of time in a lesser way.

For now, things were working out. But the distortions were growing, and eventually the spell would fail.

Yes, Fluder would die before peering into the abyss of magic.

If he’d had a highly skilled mentor, he might have reached this point much sooner. But no one had come before him—he was forced to blaze his own trail.

He took a casual look over his disciples, the ones who were coming down his trail.

This fueled the flame of his envy, and it grew.

He was more skilled than anyone present, but how old had he been when he reached the level his disciples were at now? He didn’t even need to think about the answer. He had definitely been older. What a difference between having a predecessor and not.

Why have I no master?

Fluder tried to crush his usual thoughts with others.

It’s fine. My name will go down in history as a pioneer. All the great casters who come after me will owe their success to me. My disciples are my treasures. And if one of them surpasses me, their power will be mine as well.

As Fluder consoled himself, he turned his thoughts to a specific disciple, although she wasn’t with him anymore. I wonder what tier she could have reached…

“Arché Eeb Rile Furt…”

She was an outstanding girl. She’d mastered tier two at such a young age and had already begun tier three. If she had kept going at that pace, she probably would have reached Fluder’s level eventually, but for some reason, she had needed to quit…

At the time he thought she was so foolish and felt only disappointment.

“That was a mistake.”

Maybe he’d let a big one get away.

Where is she now? He almost wanted to try to find her.

If she could use up to tier three, he could probably promise her a decent position.

But he had things he needed to do.

Fluder recited the words to open the heavy door.

Like the disciples surrounding him, once he’d stepped outside, he breathed in and out a few times. The atmosphere in the room, filled with the death knight’s imposing presence, was heavy. Even though they’d been breathing, it didn’t quite feel like the air had been reaching their lungs.

“Master!” A deep, thick voice called out to him. It was one of his leading disciples, who was also a well-known adventurer. Because of his experience, he was made a deputy director of facility security matters.

“What happened? Is it an emergency?”

“No, not an emergency. Some adamantite adventurers are here requesting an audience with you.”

Fluder gave the man a dubious look.

He hadn’t made any appointments. As the top caster in the empire, Fluder had a lot of work to do. Adding to that the time he set aside for his personal magic research, and he had no free time. He couldn’t just nod his head yes because someone said they wanted to see him. The only person in the empire he would see without an appointment was the emperor.

But dismissing them outright would be too hasty. Adamantite-rank adventurers were heroes; despite being individual actors, they couldn’t be ignored—not even by the great caster Fluder. He couldn’t treat them coldly when he might need to request them to procure rare items for him.

“Is it Argenti? Or the Eight Ripples?” He named the two adamantite-rank adventurer teams from the empire.

But the disciples shook his head. “No, it’s a two-person team called Raven Black. They presented their plates as proof.”

“What?!”

Raven Black was the newly famous kingdom team. Although they were only two, they’d achieved hero-level results. Most recently, they’d single-handedly repelled Jaldabaoth, who had been rampaging through the royal capital.

Why do they want to see me? Several doubts surfaced, but his desire to discuss magic with the high-level caster Beautiful Princess Nabe overruled them. He immediately did away with his doubts.

Then he remembered, in his capacity as the emperor’s retainer, that his master, Jircniv, wanted to see him. I guess I can do that after the meeting, thought Fluder as he gave orders to his disciple. “Show them in. I’ll be there as soon as I’m ready.”

3

“Wow, I’m flabbergasted there are actually ruins here. I thought the story seemed fishy when I heard what kind of compensation they were offering, but there are actually unexplored ruins right in the middle of this field. Aren’t you surprised?”

Hekkeran’s teammates were next to him looking at the ruins, and they all expressed their agreement.

The ruins were a tomb, but it was located in a basin, sort of sunken, almost like an upper level had caved in.

One of the reasons the tomb was unexplored was probably that as far as the eye could see was grass—there were no remains of old cities to attract adventurer attention. Besides that, the area was dotted with other swells of land, so there was no way anyone would realize that beneath one of them lay ruins.

The roof of the central building stuck out slightly, but even that they wouldn’t have noticed without climbing up this far.

The theory the brains of each team had come up with was that the earth and rock surrounding the ruins had eroded and exposed part of the wall, leading to the discovery.

“It is a surprise. Or more like, I’m so excited. If the ruins really are unexplored, there’s a fairly good chance some amazing items are just waiting in there untouched.”

“I wonder. Well, we’re out in here in the middle of nowhere, but there haven’t been any issues at all. There probably aren’t any dangerous monsters here. The most worrying thing now is how our requester was able to specify where we should pitch camp.”

Their base camp was on an open area of grassland in an ideal location.

No one would be able to see them from a distance, because the surrounding hills blocked all lines of sight. If they were careful with lights, it would be very difficult to spot them.

That was precisely what made it so alarming.

“Really, though, how did the count know about this spot?”

The most likely explanation was that he had been looking for somewhere in the area to pitch a base camp for some reason. If that were the case, a lot of things made sense.

But it also caused new questions to spring up. Why would he, an imperial noble, need to build a base camp in this out-of-the-way place—in the kingdom’s territory, at that?

“I heard there’s a big underworld organization in the kingdom. Pretty sure they’re called the Eight Fingers. Apparently, they’re up to a whole bunch of horribleness.”

“I heard they’re even smuggling things into the empire. A thief I know was grumbling that they’re so powerful in the kingdom that if anyone tries to investigate them, it blows up in their face,” Imina commented after Arché while smoothing her hair, which was blowing around in the wind.

Roberdyck sounded bothered. “I’ve heard talk of narcotics as well. Drugs are wonderful if used effectively, but when people make them into products that prey on the weak, I can only feel disgust.” He couldn’t help it that his voice rose slightly.

“Okay, we’re done speculating about baseless rumors and chatting about things that don’t have to do with the job at hand. Besides, when Arché looked him up, she said he didn’t seem like the type who would do something likely to get himself purged, right?”

Hekkeran reminded everyone of that, ignoring Arché’s murmured protests of “I didn’t have enough sources. He could have been sneaky and concealed things.”

“Well, I think you all know this, but—”

“Of course we do. We shouldn’t talk about it in front of the other teams. Some workers might even take smuggling jobs from the Eight Fingers. As long as some of the other teams might have connections to them, we’re not gonna say a thing. Not until the job is over.”

“Yeah, we have no idea what a filthy, tear-stained reward this might be.”

“Even if the money’s dirty, a reward’s a reward, and we can live on it,” snapped Arché.

Roberdyck shot a glance at her and took a deep breath as if to cool down his overheating insides.

“Sorry, that was rude.”

“No, I nearly spoke rather impertinently myself. Please forgive me.”

“Never mind that. You didn’t even say anything. But I would like you to remember that that’s what I think. I’m after material wealth more than spiritual. That said”—Arché raised a hand to signify that she was still talking—“I want to avoid anything that could be a disadvantage to my teammates. I’ve seen my share of people destroyed by greed.”

“We believe in you, Arché.”

Arché nodded, and no one said anything else back. Their feelings were conveyed without words. Their past arguments had cultivated trust.

“So? What do you think? There’s a good chance something is ruling this tomb…” Hekkeran was examining the well-pruned undergrowth. The statues of angels and goddesses here and there were extraordinarily beautiful, and it was clear at a glance that they, too, were given regular care.

On the other hand, the branches of the huge trees towering around the graveyard were all drooping and bent, giving the place an atmosphere like gloom itself. The gravestones weren’t in straight lines and looked more like a witch’s uneven teeth. They combined with the more neatly kept parts of the area to create severe discord.

Someone is taking care of the graveyard. They just aren’t sane. Hekkeran arrived at this thought through gut instinct, and it made him cold.

He turned his attention to the huge building to shake off his chills. The grounds of the graveyard contained a mausoleum in each cardinal direction, plus a gigantic, magnificent one standing in the center. Eight fairly large warrior statues surrounded the large mausoleum, and their imposing presence made it feel as though they would turn away all calamity and fools who dared approach.

“The undergrowth is trimmed so neatly. There’s not even any moss. Someone pretty particular is taking care of this place. I wonder what kind of person…”

The teams present—minus Tenbu—had felt something strange was up from the moment they learned the nature of the request was a survey.

Then they arrived, and the area was rolling plains as far as the eye could see. It was the most unsuitable place for a tomb.

For starters, it was strange to build a tomb of this grandeur in such a remote place if anyone actually planned to use it. The location was too inconvenient.

It was somewhat understandable if it was meant as a monument to convey the achievements of the deceased to future generations rather than a place to deify the dead. It was possible the tomb had been built at the site of some great deed as well.

But in that case, it was strange that there was no historical evidence of that immortal achievement. With no clues emerging even after all the teams pooled their information, there was a good chance that it had been wiped from history.

It didn’t make sense. The alien feeling that something was stuck in his throat caused Hekkeran to furrow his brow.

“This could end up being a huge incident, depending on who is in here. What’ll we do about that?”

“I’d hate if it was some innocent person’s house…”

“The members of each team in charge of gathering knowledge discussed this, but the guild didn’t have any information about ruins in this area, and since it’s so far from the nearest village, the chance that a normal person is living here is really slim. That leaves either some kind of illegal squatter who can’t be out in the open or a monster. Since there aren’t any tracks outside the tomb, either it’s someone who doesn’t need food or water or the inside is made in a way that someone who lives here can sustain themselves. But we don’t have enough information. Speculating any further will just lead to stereotyping and narrowed thinking. So that’s why we’re going in.”

Information about ruins flowed from the Adventurers Guild to the government. The discoverer retained the right to first survey for a set amount of time. If neither the state nor the guild had information about some ruins, killing an illegal squatter would be overlooked.

In other words, a “when in doubt, kill” policy.

Maybe it was a violent way to do things, but humans were weak in this world. They couldn’t have some unknown building a nest right next door.

Actually, twenty years earlier, great harm had come by way of the organization Zurrenorn, which performed horrifying experiments while occupying some ruins. As people did nothing because they didn’t have enough information, an entire—albeit small—city was destroyed.

The guild had created their policy so that nothing like that would ever happen again.

“Well, if it fits the usual pattern, it’ll be undead. If the tomb is occupied by undead, we need to mop them up and bless the place to get rid of the negative energy, right?”

“As you know, yes, it’s very important that we do that. If you leave undead alone, there is a chance stronger undead will spawn. That’s why you often find powerful undead inside ruins.”

“It’d be nice if it was just an abandoned tomb and all that was in it were golems whose master had ordered them to keep the place tidy. That would be so much less trouble… What’s our strategy?”

“I think you should have gone to the meeting instead of me, Hekkeran.”

“Don’t worry about it. None of the other team leaders were there, right? Everyone fulfills the role they’re best suited for.”

Arché sighed conspicuously in response to Hekkeran’s wink.

“Once night falls, all teams will begin operations. We’re going to invade from all four directions and meet at the huge mausoleum in the middle.”

“I see. It’d be easy to spot us in daylight.”

“Yeah.”

The area was open, and they couldn’t see any lookouts or travelers. It should have been fine to invade right then, but there was no telling what might happen. It would be a little safer to make their move in the dark.

Also, if they continued observing the ruins, even only until night, it was possible they might learn something. This job had a time limit, but the brains of the teams had concluded that it wouldn’t be a waste to spend some of it observing.

Really, they probably wanted to observe for a few days.

“Wouldn’t we be able to scout safely if we used Invisibility?”

“We did consider that, but given the chance something goes wrong, we figured it would be better to go in all at once. We’ll still be able to investigate at least a little bit.”

Invisibility wasn’t a perfect spell; there were plenty of ways to see through it. If someone or something—who knew what was in there—guarding the ruins discovered a worker approaching with magic, the security level would increase as a matter of course. If they had bad luck, it was possible they wouldn’t make it into the tomb at all.

The plan must be to all move at once to avoid heightened security. Having understood that, Hekkeran nodded. It had some holes, but it managed to balance danger and duty to the minimum acceptable level.

“So we’re on a break for now?”

“Yeah. Raven Black and Screaming Whip are on guard, but just in case, and to stay sharp for later, each team will take turns keeping an eye on things. The lineup is the order in which we reached the count’s house, and we’ll switch every two hours.”

“I see. So we’re last, then?”

“Yeah. We still have a while to go.”

With those words, she rotated her neck and scrunched her shoulders up and down.

“You seem tired.”

Arché nodded at Roberdyck. “I am. It took so long because that horrible guy proposed we storm the place. It was so hard to convince him we shouldn’t. The word cooperation is not in his dictionary.”

“Oh…the fencing genius?”

“You mean ‘piece of shit bastard,’” Imina sneered, full of killing intent.

Hekkeran smiled awkwardly in response and made an effort to change the subject. “So how about we go back to camp and take it easy until it’s our turn?”

“I approve of that idea. I don’t think it will rain anytime soon, but we’d be sorry if we didn’t take precautions. Miss Imina, that means we need you, so please don’t keep that scary face on forever.”

“Aye-aye. Agh, that guy pisses me off so much I just want to stab him to death. We’re definitely pitching our tent nowhere near them.”

“I have no problems with that as long as we’re inside the planned campground.”

Really, it was problematic, but he wasn’t interested in pitching in their vicinity and then ending up in a fight.

The four of them turned their backs to the ruins and set off walking.

“The more you think about it, the more mysterious it gets. And it makes sense that a count would make this request.”

When Hekkeran turned around, Arché had stopped and was staring at the ruins.

“You can’t read anything about the era or background of these ruins by looking at them. It’s like they just appeared here out of nowhere, that’s how alien they seem. I feel like those statues somewhat resemble the statues of this region from before the evil spirits rampaged, but that one over there seems to be way more like something from the east. And considering the cross grave markers… Nope, I give up. I have no idea.”

Listening to Arché expound, Hekkeran held back a grin; he could barely contain his excitement.

“In other words, it means we could find some pretty neat stuff in there?”

“Without a doubt. I’m sure there will be some surprises.”

“…But remember, everyone, the chance we encounter terrifying undead is also high.”

“Ahh, that’s scary!”

“You’re so bad at this, Hekkeran. That didn’t sound like me one bit. Actually, thanks to your forced imitation of my voice, I’m creeped out for real.”

“Ah, sorry.”

“Even so…I am kind of looking forward to this.”

“Yeah. What is this tomb for? Who’s buried here? It’s the kind of stuff that really piques my intellectual curiosity.”

“Right. It is kinda exciting to experience the unknown.”

“Know what else is exciting? Money! I hope there’s a pile of it.”

Seeing the ear-to-ear smiles on his teammates’ faces, Hekkeran felt satisfied. They’d all gotten their hands dirty for one reason—money—or another, but not because they wanted to. Really, they preferred the type of jobs that adventurers did.

He didn’t know if Arché would be able to go adventuring once she took on the task of raising her sisters. If she left, it would take some time to find a new member, and even once they found one, it would take more time for them to get used to working together, during which they would have to take lower-level jobs.

Maybe this job was the perfect final adventure for this group with these members.

From now on…more jobs like adventurers would take. Or…maybe it wouldn’t be bad to go in search of the unknown…

Hekkeran looked up at the sky. It seemed to go on forever.

Once dusk had begun to envelop the world, the workers all came out of their well-camouflaged, low-to-the-ground tents. It was time for them, engaged in clandestine jobs such as they were, to go to work.

The adventurers had begun preparing dinner.

They set fire to white solid fire starter and lit the charcoal, but the light was concealed using Darkness. Darkness could only cancel light, not hide the flames. With the flames blazing in the dark, they boiled water from a Bottomless Waterskin.

They poured the boiled water into wooden bowls. The portable food inside lost its shape before their eyes and began giving off the pleasant smell of soup. That plus crusty bread was their communal meal.

Anything else was each person’s preference.

The bowls contained the yellowish soup workers loved for its emphasis on nutrition and shelf life. Some people added shavings of jerky, some tossed in thinly sliced bits of meat, some sprinkled seasonings, while others just filled their stomachs with it as it was.

Everyone finished up after eating a single bowl. Considering the strenuous work they were about to do, it was definitely not enough food, but eating anything too heavy wouldn’t be good for performance. Still, it would be dangerous to eat nothing at all; they weren’t sure when they would be able to have their next meal.

It wasn’t as if they had infinite emergency rations of portable food sticks, and carrying too much would slow them down. They needed to make a good compromise.

After handing their empty bowls to the adventurers, the workers picked up the bags they’d been packing.

The adventurers saw the workers off, and all the teams began operations. The adventurers would guard the camp, not participate in the raid.

First the workers went around the hill to encircle the ruins. If they were attacked on the stairs, they were to send a signal into the sky.

Many of them were wearing full plate armor, so one would think that between the noise and their sluggish movements, a covert operation would be impossible, but that’s because common sense only goes so far. To those who used magic to defeat common sense, it wasn’t impossible at all.

By first casting Silence to eradicate all sound within range, the creaks of their armor and their footfalls as they raced across the ground became inaudible.

Next, Invisibility. Using this spell made it extremely difficult for someone with regular vision to detect them.

To be extra careful, rangers observed from the sky using Invisibility, Fly, and Hawk Eye. In order to deal with any incident as it arose, they had arrows enchanted with Paralysis at the ready.

With this double-tiered formation, the parties reached their destinations.

Now it was go time.

They climbed the hill and then descended a few yards to the ruins.

Each team would search the ground level along their way and meet at the central mausoleum. To the extent possible, they needed to accomplish this while their Invisibility spells were still in effect.

They also needed to align their pace so that part of the group didn’t rush on ahead of the others, but it was difficult to pinpoint everyone’s locations at night, especially when they were all see-through.

Luckily, they’d planned for that.

Suddenly, strange rods around a foot long appeared on the ground. Then they floated into the air as if the invisible humans had picked them up. When they bent, they began to glow.

These special rods—Fluorescent Sticks—gave off light via an alchemical reaction that occurred when the rods were bent and two special liquids inside mixed together.

The reason the workers had temporarily dropped them was that Invisibility spells affected everything one was carrying. In order to make them visible, they needed to be briefly separated from the items in their inventory.

The lights moved side to side a few times, and then the rods were destroyed, as if they had performed their function. When the shining alchemical mixture was poured onto the ground, all trace of it disappeared as it hit the dirt.

This was confirmation that all the worker teams were ready to go.

Though the teams were spaced out and couldn’t see one another, four ropes were lowered to the surface level of the Great Tomb of Nazarick almost simultaneously. They were climbing ropes with knots at perfect intervals.

The ends of the ropes were attached to pitons driven into the ground, and they swung from them, creaking.

If someone with the ability to see the invisible had been present, they would have witnessed the figures climbing down the ropes.

Even workers like Arché who built up their magic skills and knowledge more than their bodies, who hadn’t acquired skills that required nimble movements, could manage this level of exertion. That is to say, worker or adventurer, it didn’t matter—this level of physical ability was required.

Their daily training and the knots in the rope served them well, and all the workers reached the graveyard without falling.

Each team had one of the four smaller mausoleums as their first objective.

Their Invisibility spells wore off, and everyone appeared. Each team went sprinting toward their assigned mausoleum.

They ran in a crouch through the gloomy graveyard, attempting to conceal themselves with gravestones, trees, and the statues. The Silence spells were still in effect, so they didn’t make a sound. Even the warriors in full plate armor did their utmost to stay behind cover as they ran. Their brilliant maneuvers made them like shadows running across the earth.

As the leader of Heavy Masher, Gringham, approached his team’s mausoleum, his eyes widened slightly.

It was an even more splendid building than he’d expected.

The mausoleums in each cardinal direction were only small in comparison to the huge central one. Up close, it was clear they were breathtakingly large and solemn.

Its white walls were smooth, as if a planer had been run over them, and although it must have been some time since it was built, there were no blemishes from the elements, and no chips or cracks, either.

At the top of a three-step marble stoop was a thick door. The door was well polished, not a spot of rust to be found. The black steel fairly gleamed.

The amount of care that went into maintaining this building was clear.

In other words, there definitely has to be someone here, Gringham concluded as his thief teammate advanced to carefully inspect the stairs.

They were communicating via hand signals, since Silence was still active, and Gringham was told to stay back. He slowly retreated to avoid being caught in any area-of-effect trap there might have been.

The thief was doing a painstakingly thorough investigation. Gringham was getting a little impatient, but that couldn’t be helped.

A person’s soul resided in their flesh, and when that flesh began to rot and fall off, they would be called to be with the gods. Thus, the dead went straight to the graveyard—and were generally interred in the earth—but the cases of some nobles and other privileged people were slightly different.

If corpses were buried immediately, checking whether they had really decomposed or not required digging them back up. So in order to get visible proof that the corpses had rotted, they were left out to rest for a time. But no one wanted a corpse lying around in their house.

So the graveyard’s mausoleum would be chosen as the venue for the resting. Once the corpse began to rot, a priest witness would judge that the person’s soul had no doubt been called to be with the gods.

The mausoleum’s common use space was generally for this purpose. The spacious room would have a number of rock slabs, and the corpses would be placed there to rest. The sight of a number of partially rotted corpses seems terrible, but in this world, it was completely natural.

Still, when it came to the very wealthy and influential, such as great nobles, things were different again. Instead of a common use space, they would be laid out in their family mausoleum. The mausoleums powerful people owned became seen as symbols of their power, since they would wait there for the gods’ call.

It was not uncommon in the least for the buildings to be furnished and decorated with treasures. In other words, for a grave robber, a wealthy person’s mausoleum was the same as a vault full of riches. For that reason, the buildings were often fitted with dangerous traps to keep raiders away.

Hence, the extra precautions in investigating this tomb—it was so luxurious.

Just as the thief had finished inspecting the stairs and was about to move on to the door, the sounds in the area suddenly returned.

Their Silence spells had worn off. Well, it was good timing for it. The thief noiselessly approached the door and resumed his close examination. Finally, he placed something like a cup against the door to listen for any noises on the other side.

After a few seconds, he shook his head a few times at the others.

That meant, Nothing there.

The thief himself cocked his head a couple times in doubt.

It was strange that the door wasn’t even locked, but if there was nothing left for him to discover, then the rest was up to the vanguard.

When Gringham stepped forward, the thief, having oiled the door, put his hand to it. Right behind the thief was a warrior with a shield.

Gringham abruptly gave the door a shove, and it slowly cracked open. Whether thanks to the thief’s oil or the methodical care of whoever was looking after this place, the door fell away fairly smoothly for its weight.

The warrior standing by next to Gringham moved between him and the entrance to defend against any sudden ambush or trap.

But the door opened all the way up without spewing any arrows or other projectiles, and a gaping darkness appeared before Heavy Masher.

“Continual Light.”

An arcane caster’s staff glowed with magical light. It was possible to control the level of brightness to some extent, so the caster brought the mausoleum’s interior into view. With another cast of the spell, the warrior’s weapon also began to shine.

Illuminated by the two lights, the place could have been mistaken for a room in a noble or even royal mansion.

In the center was a white stone coffin that could have doubled as the altar in a shrine. It was over eight feet long and covered in carvings that were elaborate without being gaudy. In each of the room’s four corners stood a white statue clad in armor and outfitted with a sword and shield.

And then—

“Hmm. Does anyone know what that crest might be?”

“Nope, no idea.”

A flag with a crest embroidered on it in gold thread that Gringham had never seen before hung on the wall. If a caster and thief who had memorized most noble family crests (even those from other countries) didn’t recognize it, he figured the conclusion was valid that it wasn’t a kingdom noble’s crest.

“Maybe it’s the crest of a noble from before the kingdom was established?”

“Thou believest it’s from over two hundred years ago?”

Many countries had been destroyed by the evil spirits two hundred years ago, and in fact there were quite a few countries in the area that had a history of more than that. The kingdom, the sacred kingdom, the council state, and the empire had all been established in the past two hundred years.

“If that were the case, what would that have to be made out of to survive so beautifully after all these years with nary a blemish?”

“It’s probably protected with preservation magic, don’t you think? Or maybe there’s a spell that repairs it.”

“But, leader, how about you knock off that weird way of talking? We’re the only ones here, you know.”

“Hmm…” Gringham’s eyebrows bent to a dangerous angle, but then he broke into a smile. “Agh, I’m bone-tired! All this thee and thou hogwash. What kinda lunkhead talks like that!”

“Nice work, but like he said, when it’s just us, we really don’t mind if you talk normal.”

“Nah, I shouldn’t. Talkin’ all formal-like makes you sound like a worker people can rely on. You know it’s my policy to talk that way for work ’cause it’s a pain to switch gears!”

Gringham responded to his teammates’ wry smiles with one of his own.

He was the third son of a farmer in the kingdom.

Everyone knows that splitting up land among heirs forever is foolish because the shares get smaller and smaller to the point where barely anything can be harvested, and the family’s power withers. That’s why the eldest son inherits the estate. The second son has the option to stay on to assist, but the third son is just in the way. For that reason, it wasn’t rare for third sons to head to the city to earn a living.

Gringham had been blessed with both physical ability and friends, so he was able to make a success of himself, but because he’d been born a peasant—and the backup of the backup to maintain the household at that—he’d received zero education. He couldn’t read or write, and he didn’t know anything about manners or etiquette.

Certainly what was prioritized in workers wasn’t education but perfection in request fulfillment, but for the leader of a team, that alone obviously wouldn’t cut it.

He’d studied desperately but didn’t have as much aptitude in that realm as with physical ability, so he’d ended up in a fairly shabby state. The only reason no one had usurped his position as leader was that his teammates all valued him for everything besides his education level. He’d started in with the strange way of talking in order to not embarrass them.

He wanted requesters to think, This guy talks funny because it makes his team stand out.

He probably still got teased for it, but that was better than having someone think, Well, he’s just a not terribly bright farmer who became a team leader, so we can’t expect much more than this.

“Very well, break time is over! In we go, men!”

No one had any objections to Gringham’s declaration, so they began to move.

First, the thief went inside to make a careful search.

The remaining members jammed some thick iron rods in the door so that even if some trigger was tripped it wouldn’t shut on them. Then they closed it more than halfway so the light wouldn’t leak outside. While the thief performed his careful examination of the interior, Gringham and the others kept a vigilant watch outside. They’d had no choice but to use light, so someone might have seen them.

Gringham was on his belly keeping an eye on their surroundings when the thief inside, having reached the flag, was taking a focused look at its bottom edge. Finally, he held out a hand, as though he’d steeled his resolve, and touched it, then withdrew in a hurry.

“Okay, no problems that I can see. You guys can come in.” Watching Gringham and the others enter over his shoulder, he pointed up at the flag. “This’ll probably fetch a good price. It’s woven with precious metal threads.”

“Whaaaat?! Precious metal?! Who would hang something like that up in a place like this?!”

The entire party gasped in shock. Then they all hurried to the flag and took turns touching it. The coolness they felt really was metal.

From the way it sparkled, the thief’s assessment was probably correct. Estimating the weight from its size and then adding the artistic value would make it worth quite a lot.

“This is a win for the requester. Though we can’t say he’s recuperated the cost of hiring us—no, all four teams—there must be a pile of treasure just waiting for us here.”

“Should we take it right now?”

Gringham answered the thief’s question. “This will be rather unwieldy. And probably heavy, as well. Let’s recover it later. Any objections?”

“No. It would definitely be hard to do our job if we were carrying this. Regarding the results of my inspection: no traps and no hidden doors.”

“…Very well. I’m counting on thee.” Gringham turned to the arcane caster—a wizard—who cast a spell as if taking the cue.

“Detect Magic… Can’t sense any magic tricks. Of course, that doesn’t count anything they might be hiding with stealth magic.”

“…Then I guess there’s nothing left to investigate. Shall we head to the main building?”

Everyone’s eyes gathered on the sarcophagus in the middle of the room.

The thief took his time giving it a thorough once-over before announcing there were no traps.

Gringham and the warrior nodded at each other and began sliding the stone cover off. It was fairly large, so they figured it would be heavy, but it was far lighter than expected, to the point where when they put some muscle into it they nearly lost their balance.

Once the lid was off, light reflected from inside—innumerable brilliant sparkles.

Gold, silver, gems of various colors, all kinds of accessories giving off countless polished gleams. Over a hundred gold coins were scattered in between.

The flag had given Gringham a hunch, but this sight made him grin from ear to ear in spite of himself. The thief, after making careful observations, reached inside and pulled out one of the myriad sparkles—a golden necklace.

And it was a gorgeous piece. It looked like a simple gold necklace, but the chain was ornamented with minute carvings.

“A hundred gold would be a cheap estimate… Depending on where you took it, you could get a hundred and fifty.”

Everyone reacted differently to the thief’s appraisal. One person whistled, another smirked. The one thing they all had in common was the flames of delight and greed dancing in their eyes.

“We get half, so at the very least this is fifty additional gold pieces. Ten per person? That’s a marvelous bonus.”

“This…these ruins might be a mountain of treasure.”

“Wow. This is ridiculously amazing.”

“It really is. But what a waste to put all this treasure out here. I’ll find a good use for it.” At that, the wizard plucked a ring set with a huge ruby out of the pile and kissed the jewel.

“It’s ginormous!”

The priest scooped some of the gold coins into his hands and let them spill back out.

The bright clinking of coin on coin echoed throughout the room.

“I’ve never seen gold pieces like this before. I wonder what era, what country they’re from…?”

The thief put a scratch in one using a knife and smiled in admiration. “These are quality coins. They’re double the weight of the trade currency, and if you consider them works of art, you might be able to even get a little more.”

“This is…heh…heh-heh-heh.”

A couple more members joined in as if they couldn’t hold back the laughter. Even their share of this alone was no joke.

“Men, let us save our prayers for afterward. Let us recover these items as quickly as possible and head to the main building! If we’re late, our share will decrease!”

“All right!” A spirited response to Gringham’s call rang out. It was full of excitement and enthusiasm.

4

The huge warrior statues, so lifelike they seemed liable to move at any moment, guarded the large mausoleum in the center of the ruins like knights protecting their king. Hekkeran, at one of their feet, was watching one of the four smaller mausoleums.

After a little while, he caught sight of five figures rushing out of it like the wind. He confirmed to a neurotic degree that nothing seemed off as they sprinted, trying to stay out of sight, and that there was no one in the area watching them. A few seconds later, seeing there were no issues as they approached, he let out a small sigh of relief.

He stepped out from the shadow of the huge statue and gave the sign. Gringham, running at the head of the line, caught it immediately and jogged over to him.

“Gringham, took you long enough.”

“My apologies. We seem to have kept you waiting.”

“It’s not as if we decided on a meeting time, so it’s no problem. More importantly, let’s get out of here and decide what to do next.”

Hekkeran ducked down and began leading them while keeping an eye on their surroundings.

As soon as they had started walking, Gringham asked, “I must know. Didst thy team discover any riches?”

Hearing his voice full of excitement he couldn’t quite contain, Hekkeran remembered his own team a few minutes before and grinned. “Quite a bit! We’re thrilled. And the old man said the same thing.”

“Thy team as well, then? Coming here was the right decision.”

“Sure was. We’ll have to thank the great man buried here.”

“Indeed. Still, after discovering so much, we must be prepared for the possibility that the main building contains nothing.”

“Oh, I bet there’s more.”

“Well, then… How much would you wager?”

“Now you’re talking. We’ll find more treasure in the tomb and I’ll win some off you! Awesome. The only problem is that it seems like we’ll both bet in the same direction…”

The pair didn’t say anything, but the corners of their mouths curled up sharply.

“Without a doubt. I have a question for thee, however. What is that?”

Gringham was eyeing something that could have been called a stone monument standing at the base of one of the huge statues’ feet.

“That?”

Hekkeran filled him in on the results of the investigation without stopping, explaining how no one from the other three teams who had already arrived knew what the writing said. Everyone had sort of been hoping someone on Gringham’s team would know.

“It looks like a stone monument, and it’s got some kind of writing carved in it.”

“What dost thou mean by ‘some kind of writing’? That’s awfully vague.”

“We don’t know what language it is. It’s not the kingdom’s language or the empire’s. And apparently, it’s not one of the ancient languages from this area, either. It might not even be human. The only thing we can make out is the number two-point-zero.”

“A number? Common sense says that would be the year this place was built, but it’s too low.”

“Arché was saying maybe it’s the key to the riddle of these ruins, but…well, maybe we should remember it for later just in case.”

“Hmm, yes. Let’s.”

They passed by the statues and went up a long, shallowly inclined, white stone staircase, and the entrance to the central mausoleum loomed before their eyes.

“Smells of dead people.”

“Yeah, sure does. I’ve smelled this many times in the fog on the Katze Plain,” Hekkeran agreed with Gringham’s murmur.

What hung in the air mingling with the cold wasn’t the putrefying kind of stench that triggered nausea but a smell peculiar to graveyards—and undead.

The tomb may have been tidy, but there were definitely undead inside.

The party was ready, and when they entered, they found themselves in an open hall. To each side were too many slabs of rock to count, and on the opposite side was a staircase leading down. The door at the bottom was wide open. The air coming from inside was terribly frigid.

“This way.”

With Hekkeran acting as their guide, Gringham and his team began descending the stairs.

At the bottom, straight in front of them, was a door to a burial chamber. There didn’t appear to be any other doors.

And there were all the others—Hekkeran’s team, Foresight; Elya’s team, Tenbu; and Palpatra’s team were all gathered in a space smaller than the mausoleum but still plenty spacious at the top of the stairs.

“Okay, what should we do now? The plan was to split up and gather info on the interior, but does anyone have any other ideas after exploring the smaller mausoleums?” After Hekkeran spoke, he surveyed the group.

It didn’t seem like anyone had come up with any new proposals. Was it ambition or just the light making their eyes glitter? He didn’t know, but they sparkled for certain. The excitement on their faces said they were ready to dive right into this tomb.

“Then I have an idea. My team will check around the outside to search for hidden doors.”

The members looked put out despite the fact that it was their leader who had spoken.

They’d seen such a pile of riches! Who could agree with that idea, even if he was a veteran? They were probably visualizing the treasure escaping their grasp.

“How about it? We may have investigated the ground level, but we didn’t do a thorough job. Maybe there’s another way in hidden beneath the mausoleum. And shouldn’t we examine the graveyard?”

“He’s right. I once heard a bard sing of the vast Sasacharre ruins, which had a quick, safe route to the center hidden near the main entrance.”

“Yeah, Gringham. We already examined this room and unfortunately there aren’t any secret doors here.”

“So, rather than taking a loss, I’d like you to split anything you guys find on this level with us. Hmm. Maybe ten percent from each team? And then if you find a lower level, will you give us first dibs tomorrow?”

“I have no objections to that proposal.”

Gringham was the first to reply. Hekkeran agreed a beat later.

“Okay, then, no one seems to have any objections. But what about you, Uzruth?”

“Personally, I take issue with it, but if it’s only ten percent, then it’s fine.”

The old man smiled naively in response to Elya’s half-sarcastic remark. Elya made a sour face upon his attitude being evaded so simply.

“Oh, sir, in that case, I’d like to ask you a favor. There was a flag woven out of precious metal thread in the mausoleum we searched, but it was so unwieldy that we didn’t bring it back with us. Could we have you go and recover it?”

“My team is in a similar predicament to Hekkeran’s. Sorry to make extra work for thee, but we would much appreciate if you recovered ours as well.”

“Then take our stuff, too.” Elya jerked his chin at a slender elf, and she stumbled as she put down the huge sack she was carrying.

“Got it. Is there anything else you want to leave or have us grab?” No one replied to Palpatra’s question. “Okay! Then as I proposed, we’ll search the ground level. Do be careful in the tomb. If you see anything with monetary value, feel free to leave it for us.”

“Ha-ha. Monsters we’ll leave, but unfortunately for you, sir, we’ll be taking every last bit of treasure.”

Some of the workers chuckled and Hekkeran said, “Okay, then, shall we go?”

Everyone accepted his suggestion immediately, and so they took a step forward. Eyes bright with anticipation and greed, they took a step into the unknown ruins, this subterranean tomb.

Hekkeran opened the door at the end of the room, and a hallway extended farther in. By this time they were expecting it, but this hallway had been kept clean as well.

There wasn’t a speck of mold or moss on the stone pathway, and in the walls on either side were double levels of hollows containing things the size of human bodies wrapped in shrouds. It didn’t have that corpse stench, but there was some kind of smell—the chill in the air or perhaps an atmospheric hint that someone had died.

Every so often pale light shone from the ceiling, but there were definitely gaps, so darkness remained here and there. Hekkeran didn’t have any trouble walking, but it was dark enough that he worried they might overlook something. He felt like he should have brought a light.

“Rober, is that body registering as an undead?”

“No.”

Arché responded, “Oh yeah?” and turned toward a body, took out a dagger, and sliced open the shroud. Seeing that, two others left the main party to inspect the body with her.

“…Judging from height and build, there’s an extremely good chance this is human—adult male.”

“No clothes, so we still can’t tell what era these ruins are from, huh?”

“These ruins really are a mystery. The style of architecture doesn’t indicate a time period, and neither does the burial method. They could even be from over six hundred years ago.”

“If they were, it’d be a historic find.”

Among informed experts, it would be a point of debate, but these people were there to work.

Flustered upon realizing Hekkeran and Gringham were staring at them coldly, Arché hurried to give the results of their inspection. “We still don’t know which era these ruins were built in or what their story is.”

“Understood. Can we move on? I want to get to the monster killing.”

Going along with disapproving Elya, the party proceeded down the hall, but only a couple of steps later they stopped again.

They tensed into battle stances holding the weapons they had already drawn.

From somewhere up ahead, they could hear the sound of numerous bones clacking.

Glimpses of the undead running down the hall flashed in the ceiling lights.

As the distance closed and the identity of their opponents became clear, the workers couldn’t believe their eyes, and a shock rippled through them.

“This is just ridiculous…”

“Whoa, are you serious…?”

“Huh? Skeletons? Really?”

As soon as someone said the name of the monsters, the laughter they couldn’t hold back filled the hallway.

“C’mon. Skeletons? Look how many of us there are!”

Skeleton-type monsters didn’t look all that different from one another, so it could be difficult to tell what type one was facing at a glance.

But from their presence, it was easy to assert that these were plain old skeletons.

“If someone were sending out scouts to test our strength, they probably would have sent something stronger… I got it! There isn’t actually any monster ruling these ruins. Either that or it’s one so incompetent it can’t even estimate our fighting power. Or it could be a half-wit who hasn’t even figured out there’s a raid happening.”

They couldn’t stop laughing.

“Ah, but I just can’t believe it’s skeletons. Maybe all the treasure was in the mausoleums up on the ground level.”

“That would be the worst.”

For workers equivalent to mythril-rank adventurers, skeletons were incredibly weak. And whose idea had it been to send fewer skeletons than the amount of workers?

Facing the six skeletons standing in their way, they exchanged glances that said, Who’s going to take ’em?

“Not it.” Elya was the one to clearly assert himself. Everyone understood how he felt.

“Then I shall lead.”

Gringham stepped to the front in a single smooth motion.

What were the skeletons, with their barely existent intelligence, thinking? Did they imagine the warrior who stepped forward had been shoved out of formation? Or was it something else?

They attacked all at once; however—

The ax and shield clobbered them.

It only took a few seconds. No, even less than that.

Gringham smashed the skeletons, stomped on their remains, and let out a tired-sounding sigh. It was due not to exhaustion from combat but to the utterly pathetic fact that his first battle in these huge untouched ruins that he was so happy, as a worker, to have the chance to explore was against skeletons, the lowest tier of undead.

“How fragile. It seems they really were just skeletons. But it wouldn’t be wise to let our guard down. Let us proceed cautiously, keeping in mind the possibility that stronger undead could appear.”

Everyone pursed their lips and proceeded farther into the ruins, heads filled with fantasies of the mountain of treasure that surely awaited them.

“Sheesh. They’ve gone.”

“Yes, they have. They may be workers, but we all shared a meal, and they’re our teammates on this job. I hope they make it back safely… What do you think, Momon?”

“They’re probably all going to die.”

Ainz answered in a low voice, and the adventurer team leader who’d asked the question was taken aback.

Crap, I just said what I thought.

“N-no, I mean, they should all be prepared to. These are untouched ruins. Who knows what kind of danger awaits? Wishful thinking will only get them hurt.”

“I see… Thanks for your…concern.”

That seemed pretty forced…but I guess he’s taking it at face value? Works for me…

The leader must have been nodding because he had blindly taken the adamantite-rank adventurer’s words in a positive light. Ainz’s work—being friendly with him during the whole trip to Nazarick to get him to show goodwill—had paid off.

“Well then, I think I’ll take the first rest, as we planned.”

Ainz walked toward his tent—which he naturally shared with Narberal. He knew some of the humans suspected their tent was at a distance from the others so no one would be able to overhear any rough, heavy breathing. Or rather, the leader of the other team had told him as much.

The man seemed to want to get closer to fellow adventurer Momon more than the workers and had been passing information he’d gotten from them to Ainz.

Ainz entered the tent with Narberal, shut the opening, and took a look outside just to be safe. No one was paying attention to them. On the contrary, it seemed like they were purposely avoiding looking in their direction.

“I was right to not outright deny that our tent was a love nest. Now no one thinks it’s weird that we pitched it at a distance, and no one will approach or pay too much attention to us.”

Instead of losing anything by doing that, they had actually gained a lot.

Ainz took off his helmet and revealed his skull face.

“Okay, Nabe—er, Narberal. I’m returning to Nazarick. The plan is to send Pandora’s Actor in my place, but until then, if anything happens, find a way to handle it.”

“Understood, Lord Ainz.”

“Right. Then contact me immediately in an emergency.”

Ainz canceled the magic that had created his armor and swords. The weight of the helmet in his hand disappeared at the same time.

The restricting sensations that had been enveloping his body thus removed, he sighed in relief, even though he wasn’t tired. It was probably the same for the way he rotated his shoulders even though there was no way for them to get stiff—these things had to be vestiges of his humanity.

“Phew.”

The remnants of human emotion were a bother at times.

If he had been able to handle everything in a calm and collected manner, things might have turned out differently. But if he didn’t have vestiges of his human self, would he still have been so attached to the Great Tomb of Nazarick? He probably would have lost the feelings he had toward Satoru Suzuki’s memories, as well as the memories he’d made with his friends.

Ainz smiled bitterly and cast a spell. The thoughts of his human vestiges could no longer be found in even the smallest corner of his mind. Ainz wasn’t the outstanding sort of person who could do two or three things at a time. Now he had to discard any unnecessary thoughts.

The spell he cast was Greater Teleportation.

Thanks to a ring he was wearing, he was able to get through the barriers inside the Great Tomb of Nazarick, and he instantly arrived outside the Throne Room.

“Welcome back, Lord Ainz.”

He was immediately greeted by a woman’s beautiful voice celebrating his return.

“Thank you, Albedo.”

After straightening up from her deep bow, a smile that reminded him of a riot of blooming flowers appeared on her peerlessly beautiful face as she stared at Ainz, as if she could see nothing else.

Urk…

When he noticed the tender light in her sparkling golden eyes, he nearly wriggled in discomfort. But that would have been unbecoming of the ruler of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, Ainz Ooal Gown, so he held it in.

In order to suppress the low-intensity and thus lingering emotions, he conspicuously cleared his throat, though his bony body didn’t require it.

“The raiders should be here soon, according to plan. Actually, they might be here already. How is the welcome party prep coming along?”

“Swimmingly, my lord. Our guests are sure to have an enjoyable time.”

“I see… Albedo, I’m looking forward to seeing your style of hospitality.”

He stepped into the heart of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, the Throne Room. Albedo followed after him a moment later.

He’d given her one order with regards to the raiders. He wanted to examine how her idea of a defense system fared in a real battle.

His old guildmates were the ones who had thought about which monsters should spawn where and stationed them accordingly. There was nothing wrong with that. But now that Nazarick’s situation had changed, he couldn’t say for sure that there wasn’t a better way to position them.

Thus, an overhaul of the defense system was critical. Now, they were going to test it.

“The raiders are weak. We won’t be able to test everything. Still I’m hoping there will be something we can gain from this.”

“Understood. I guarantee we will perform up to your expectations, Lord Ainz.”

“Good. As we agreed, I’ve cut down the amount of cost-incurring traps, like the one where we send undead charging into poison gas. Make do with traps that use auto-spawning minions. No issues with that, right?”

Albedo smiled in response, and Ainz nodded.

“Okay. Then I’ll have some fun in here for a while. By the way, what are the other floor guardians up to?”

“I gave orders to gather the moment you returned. Shall I let them in as they arrive?”

“I’ll allow it. The more the merrier.”

Ainz leisurely took a seat in the throne, and a number of monitors just like television screens floated before him. They all showed scenes of what was happening inside Nazarick, things Albedo wanted to show him as she controlled the displays.

Most likely, they showed parts of the defense network that Albedo had adjusted, but he didn’t really know what was different from before.

In order for this to be a fruitful exercise, I have to get something out of watching this, too. Otherwise I’ll be in a pinch if we’re all sharing our opinions afterward.

Ainz was the absolute ruler of the Great Tomb of Nazarick. He couldn’t very well tell his subordinates he knew nothing about its defense network.

“And just to make sure, there’s no chance of Ariadne activating, right?” he asked, even though he had the console open and had confirmed, flipping through the tabs, that there were no issues.

“I don’t believe so. There is one thing I wanted to ask. If the raiders built a blockade, would it end up activating?”

Ainz remembered a Yggdrasil Q and A he’d seen a long time before. Or had it been patch notes from the developers?

“It shouldn’t… Yeah, I don’t……think so.”

That’s how it would have been in Yggdrasil, but there was no guarantee those rules would hold in this world. Actually, he wasn’t even sure if there was any Ariadne in this world.

“What about manipulating the humans to activate it on purpose?”

“There’s a chance it wouldn’t work, but considering what we’d lose by it activating, I don’t think it’s an experiment we’d want to perform.”

The Ariadne System…

It was the evaluation mechanism of Yggdrasil’s base-building system.

There was an easy way to build an impregnable fortress: Blockade the entrance and make it so no one could invade. The Great Tomb of Nazarick would have been pretty much perfect if they had buried it completely underground. But from a gameplay perspective, that couldn’t be allowed.

The Ariadne System existed to keep guilds from building bases that couldn’t be raided.

There had to be a route from the entrance to the heart of the dungeon. Other things Ariadne checked included distance walked inside and number of doors; there was a wide array of specifications.

If a dungeon that didn’t follow the rules was uploaded to Yggdrasil, the guild would be penalized and its resources would sharply decrease.

In the case of Nazarick, they were able to maintain such a vast dungeon because they had solved all those issues on levels five and six, not to mention put in tons of real cash.

The workers appeared on one of the monitors Ainz was controlling.

“Tch! Okay, they’re finally in. They kept me waiting long enough.”

Ainz was filled with disgust as he watched the video of them tramping with their dirty feet into the sanctuary he’d built with his friends. If his emotions became too unbalanced, they would stabilize immediately, but this smoldering sort of irritation couldn’t be completely suppressed.

“Albedo. Don’t let a single one of them out of here alive.”

“Of course not, my lord. Please enjoy witnessing the fate of these thieves who dare trespass on your most sacred home. Oh…but who will you use as the guinea pigs for your sword experiment, the ones you requested?”

“Ahh, right. I sparred with the old man for a round. This guy I fenced with a bit on the way here. That team won’t be good for practicing. So, by process of elimination…they’ll be good.” Ainz pointed at the monitor, turning it so Albedo could see.