Chapter 3 | The Great Tomb

 

1

The workers led by “Green Leaf” Palpatra parted with the other excited, expectant teams and looked out from the top of the stairs near the entrance to the central mausoleum.

Nothing moved in the graveyard, sleepy like death. There were only silence, darkness, and starlight. When Palpatra took a step down, one of his teammates spoke.

“Isn’t this kind of a waste, sir? Don’t you think one of the other teams could have searched the graveyard?”

“Of course they could have. There’s not a huge gap in ability between the teams, minus that piece of shit one. Heavy Masher and Foresight could probably do anything we can.” Palpatra interrupted his teammate’s “So then—” and continued, “We got first dibs on tomorrow’s search, right? It’s not a total loss. Besides, we may finish searching the ground level by tomorrow, so the last team might end up guarding base camp with no gains at all.”

“I see…”

“It’s too risky to be the first ones to raid unknown ruins anyhow. They’re our canaries. Hope they make it back safely.”

Palpatra turned around with a cold glint in his eyes. He was watching the workers who had charged in, though they were no longer visible.

The slightly disparaging expression didn’t match his usual friendly old man vibe, but his teammates knew him well, so they weren’t surprised.

Palpatra was an extremely prudent person. He layered precautions on precautions and was the type to look before leaping. That was how he had been able to continue adventuring for so long and how he managed to defeat a dragon. He was so cautious, in fact, that he occasionally missed out on profitable opportunities. Still, he had never lost a man; his ability was worthy of the faith his teammates put in him.

There was nothing more valuable than life, not to any of them, but they still regretted losing the riches they felt had slipped through their fingers.

“It might have been a chance to discover some amazing item! It might have been worth betting our lives.”

“You might be right. But take a look at this well-kept graveyard. If someone is keeping this place tidy, there will definitely be monsters to greet us. It’s better to have the others investigate what types of monsters there are, don’t you think? Personally, I don’t much care for this type of request. Too many uncertainties.”

One of his teammates replied to these grumbles with a flippant “But in the end, you took it!”

“Yes. Because I figured if there were other teams, we could escape while they end up victims.”

The party reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Is that why you took on the search of the ground level? So if we hear them scream, we can run away?”

“That’s one reason. I’m making a bet… As you said earlier, we stand to lose a lot. It should be safer once we have more information, but it’s unclear how many benefits there really are. If it doesn’t work out, allow me to apologize.”

“Don’t worry about it, sir. We trust you no matter what. You tend to make the right choice.”

“And if we do miss out here, we’ll just gnash our teeth and make a killing on the next job. Aren’t you the one who said that as long as you’re alive, you’ll always have another chance to profit, so you shouldn’t go recklessly rushing into danger?”

“Ahh, that takes me back. We were young then.”

“You’re still young!”

“Well, when you say it, sir…”

The party was all wry smiles as they set off across the graveyard toward one of the smaller mausoleums.

“Actually, I’m sorry I made a decision on my own when I should have conferred with the rest of you first.”

“Well, there wasn’t much you could have done, given the timing. Plus, we chose you as our leader. If our trusted leader decides something, we’re happy to obey.”

“…You seem disappointed, though. What are those bitter smiles for? Well, anyhow. Let’s get down to business here. If we have time left after the search, maybe we can get Momon to give us some training. It’s a good opportunity, so you fellows should try sparring with him, too.”

“Yeah, his match with you is burned into our brains. He really is an adamantite rank.”

“There are all different levels within adamantite rank. Frankly, the empire’s Eight Ripples aren’t really adamantite caliber. Momon is a true adamantite rank on a level above the one I couldn’t even reach.”

“Sir…”

“Hya-hya-hya! No worries. In my heyday, I might have been jealous, but now I’m just a wrinkly old man. It’s not a shock to me. And I’ve seen my share of true adamantites, but Momon is outstanding. His presence feels like the true of the true.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. That’s why you really should have him go at you, even just casually. If you’re going to keep adventuring even after I die, it’s an experience you’ll treasure.”

“There’s no way you’re going to die, sir. I can’t even imagine you retiring.”

“Yeah! I think you’ll live as long as Paradyne.”

“Hya-hya-hya! Nah, that’s impossible for me. He’s something else.”

“What a wonderful team you are.”

Suddenly, the quiet voice of a woman.

In this group, there were two women on Hekkeran’s team, Foresight, and three elf slaves on Elya’s team, Tenbu, but the voice was none of those.

The party raised their weapons and whirled around.

At the top of the gently sloping stairs they had just descended, at the entrance to the mausoleum, stood women in maid uniforms—five of them.

They were all unbelievably beautiful, which made them seem very out of place.

The strange thing was that although they wore maid uniforms, the outfits were unlike any Palpatra had ever seen before and had a metallic gleam, like armor.

“Who…are you? I’ve never seen you before… Hmm… So there was a secret passage after all?”

“Girls? They’re as pretty as Raven Black’s Beautiful Princess, but…they must be more than looks, huh?”

“They don’t seem hostile. Maybe they were hired by someone else…? Nah, that can’t be…”

“What should we do, sir?”

Palpatra’s teammates, watching the maids’ every move, looked to him for direction.

Negotiating would have been best, but there was no way things would resolve amicably.

“Numberwise, we’re even… Maybe it’ll be okay?”

Their opponents were as strong or perhaps slightly stronger than they were.

The fact that they hadn’t attacked while all the workers were together meant they probably didn’t have a trap or the might to take everyone at once. Likewise, since they came straight at Palpatra’s team and talked to them now, they were probably confident they could beat them.

As Palpatra had gotten older, his body didn’t perspire like it used to, but at this moment, the hands clenching his spear were clammy.

“Still, maids in a graveyard? This guy’s taste is suspect.”

The team went from chatty to pale and trembling in the space of a moment, foreheads slick with sweat.

Palpatra was assailed, for just a split second, by the feeling that the temperature had plunged, but the goose bumps covering his entire body were not his imagination.

Even by the light of the moon, he could see the cutthroat looks in the eyes of the maids lined up above them.

“LET’S KILL THEMMM.”

“…We should.”

“Normally we wouldn’t kill them, but put them through incredible amounts of pain, no?”

The maids were awash with killing intent. Their emotional agitation was so intense that it seemed to warp space.

“Okay, okay.” The one who seemed to have the highest status clapped her hands lightly. “We were ordered not to let anyone out alive, so killing them was already decided, but I’m glad you’re all in the mood.”

A metallic clack rang out loudly on the marble steps. It was made by the greave-like high heels the maids were wearing.

Palpatra and his team backed up as if they’d been pushed.

Judging from the fact that their opponents carried no weapons, they had to be casters. In that case, it was a bad plan to let them have the higher, more advantageous ground and set this open area with a clear line of fire as the battlefield.

For Palpatra and his team, closing the distance would be effective. The maids would have the advantage in the opposite scenario, so why were they coming down the stairs? Would they float into the sky with Fly in a pinch?

Bewildered by the stately approach of the maids, whose faces were as expressionless as Noh masks, Palpatra and his team conferred behind their shields about what to do, what strategy to use.

Clack! The sound was louder now. The maids had stopped midway down the stairs.

“First, allow me to introduce myself. I…ahem…I am the deputy leader of the Pleïades, Yuri Alpha. We’ll only be with one another a short while, but I hope you’ll remember me. Now then, this would be over much more quickly if we could clean you up ourselves, but due to certain circumstances, we are unable to lay a hand on you directly. It’s unfortunate, but that’s how it is.”

Adorable voices laughing, like bells ringing, traveled on the wind until they reached the workers.

The smiles of these peerless beauties were so charming it wouldn’t have been strange for one of them to fall in love at first sight.

Palpatra had seen a lot of things in all his years as first an adventurer, then a worker. That included the inhuman beauty of monsters. Even he had never seen such a pretty woman as Yuri—she was so gorgeous he thought he might lose his senses.

But under one layer of thin skin beneath her regular features lay a crushing pride that made itself known through the contempt in her way of addressing them, the superiority oozing at the edges of her words. For men who had made it through many adventures and were confident in their skill, the arrogance was obnoxious—enough to make them want to hurt her a little.

As elaborated on earlier, however, there was mounting evidence that suggested the overwhelming strength of these women (as contrary as their appearance made that seem), so the men couldn’t quite commit themselves to a charge. One of them, struck by the maid party’s killing intent, still looked plain scared.

Perhaps their best course of action was to retreat and involve the adventurers, especially Momon, in the fight.

“Now allow me to introduce your opponents.” Yuri clapped her hands twice. The sound carried surprisingly far, and the graveyard shook as if in response. “Come on out, Nazarick Old Guarders.”

“What?!” Palpatra yelped.

Behind them the ground split open, and multiple skeletons appeared.

Pincered?! No…

Looking up at the stairs, he saw that while the maids were hostile, any hint of a will to fight had disappeared. Perhaps one could say they’d gone into spectator mode. The workers couldn’t let down their guard, but at least for now there was no sign of the women attacking, as they had said.

Concluding that their opponents for the time being were the newcomer skeletons to the rear, Palpatra took a good look at them.

Skeletons weren’t such tough enemies. Palpatra and his team could be attacked by a hundred and methodically annihilate them without even getting scared. In that case, the eight skeletons that had crawled out of the ground weren’t opponents at all.

There was just one problem.

Palpatra and his teammates all swallowed hard and took an unconscious step back.

These didn’t seem like ordinary skeletons. They had different gear, too.

They wore quality breastplates, like the type of thing the bodyguards of some country’s leader would wear, carried kite shields emblazoned with a crest, and wielded a diverse array of weapons. They wore composite longbows across their backs. And every bit of their gear had the sparkle of magical energy.

Skeletons armed with magic items couldn’t be ordinary skeletons.

“What are those?”

“You don’t know either, sir? I’m not positive, but I think…they’re a subtype of skeleton warriors.”

“A subtype? Well, they don’t seem like red skeleton warriors…”

Facing an enemy they knew nothing about was terrifying, all the more so because that enemy was outfitted with magic items that had special effects.

“Judging from your numbers, we think this many will be enough. Do your best. Let’s see how far you can run.”

“To be given such powerful undead as opponents—what an honor! However…”

Palpatra thought calmly.

It would be no easy feat to ready an endless supply of fancily equipped undead. They must have come out swinging with their strongest force.

If they had something stronger, they never would have let the invasion begin.

“So this is the mightiest these ruins have to offer? Did you think you could stop us with these?”

When he looked up, he saw Yuri’s eyes darting around—she was mildly shaken.

Bull’s-eye, huh? I see. So this conversation was supposed to be a trap…?

The smartest use of their most powerful forces would have been to defeat each enemy as it came inside the tomb. But considering the chance of not encountering them, maybe it was smarter to concentrate their forces on the exit—the place the physically and mentally exhausted raiders would have to pass after their search.

He could see through their aim. The maid’s taunt to do their best at running away put the idea of fleeing in their heads, surely so she and her companions could attack them from behind with the advantage. They had multiple battles ahead, so of course they would want to minimize their losses.

So there was only one thing Palpatra and his team had to do.

“We just have to defeat all the skeletons and break through, right?”

They had to fight off the Nazarick Old Guarders for the other teams who would return later.

The workers were rivals but also teammates. Besides, if the intention was for them to flee, it would be harder for the maids to catch them in their trap if they stood and fought instead. Keeping in mind the plan of getting Momon and the others into the battle if their opponents started to seem tough, Palpatra figured they should fight, knowing it was dangerous.

“Contrary to my plans, we’re the canaries… My head hurts. Do you think that’s all of them?”

“It’s hard to imagine they could have more undead with that level of gear.”

“This is a path any raiders would have to take. So putting their strongest force here is an optimal strategy. That means it’s probably all of them, right? I don’t think they’d make any stupid mistakes in how they split up their troops, given that they’re better informed than us.”

“No, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were more inside. But most of the ones that are left are probably less powerful.”

“Sir…let’s make a run for it. Those things are bad. Really bad.”

“There’s been nowhere to run from the moment we were flanked. Even if we tried to fly away, they’d shoot us with their bows. We have to hold our ground! Beating them is the only way to survive!”

As Palpatra shouted, there came a voice from above that sounded somewhere between surprised and derisive. “Well, that’s one way to do it. We’re rooting for you. Now, please begin.”

With her voice as the trigger, the Nazarick Old Guarders charged.

Yuri and the others repeated their “encouragements” with troubled expressions.

The scene playing out before them was so unexpected, they couldn’t conceal their surprise. Are they really this…?

“Boy, they’re doomed.”

“…I never guessed they would be so…”

“Master Cocytus is also surprised.”

“AT THIS RATE…IT’S GOING TO END BEFORE THEY GET TO THE GOOD PART…”

A hammer descended as they watched.

“Ah, this is bad. They’re gonna die.”

At Lupusregina’s quiet comment, a man took the hit to his chest and crumpled to the ground.

The sound of metal screeching and something heavy falling—even in the midst of the fierce fight, these sounds echoed out clearly.

The first one to die was a human warrior. The Nazarick Old Guarder who’d clobbered him with a lightning-imbued hammer unsmilingly shifted its aim to its next prey.

“Mr. Priest, hurry up and heal or your warrior’s gonna die!” Yuri seemed concerned.

“…No. He died instantly. And now their line is broken,” Shizu replied, shaking her head.

The two Nazarick Old Guarders who had been facing the warrior were freed up, so one of them headed toward the priest, and the other moved on to the rear guard. The priest had already had two on him, and now he would have to face another. He didn’t have time to cast anymore. It was all he could do to withstand the attacks coming at him from three directions.

The only one putting up a decent fight was Palpatra, but he was facing three of them, so he didn’t have any leeway to go to the rescue.

“Thieves don’t have enough attack power. Do you have any kind of ace move?” The arcane caster protecting the thief had to fight another monster. That made two. A thief’s light weapons were definitely not powerful enough against armor-clad undead, which couldn’t be killed in one well-aimed strike. He could dodge nimbly, but the difference between exhaustible humans and inexhaustible undead was huge.

“They’re looking at us like they’re going to start crying.”

“Should we wave?”

“SURE, WE CAN DO THAT MUUUCH.”

“’Kay, ’kay.” Lupusregina grinned and waved at Palpatra.

“……He got hit.”

“Because you distracted him, Lupu.”

“Urgh! You mean it’s my fault?!”

“……Yes. It’s your fault. But we can root for them… Hang in there…”

“Yeah, we need them to hang in there.”

Everyone nodded at Yuri’s remark.

In their battle with Palpatra’s worker team, the Nazarick Old Guarders kept the pressure on the entire time. The workers’ resistance was so futile, the game so one-sided, that Yuri and the other maids began to pity them.

They’d laughed at first. Why were they so confident before the battle started? But the fight was not even worth watching. They yawned and even started encouraging the workers.

“Agh, it’s so one-sided I don’t even know what to say.”

“……They don’t have any ace moves?”

“Maybe it was the summoning spell he just cast?”

“Tier three?”

“Nah, that’s too weak to be an ace move. But I do think their idea to build a wall with summoned monsters was a good one.”

“For sure. If the attacks hadn’t reached, they might have been able to regroup.”

“BUUUT FLYING WAS A BAD MOOOVE. THE WRINKLY ONE EVEN SAID SOOO…”

“It wasn’t clear if he was trying to run away or cast magic from above…”

“……Perfect for target practice.”

The arcane caster had already taken a critical hit and fallen to the ground. If his hands had been free, he could have cast a healing spell or used a potion and returned to the fight, but he didn’t have the energy. In the end, the thief covered him, and he had his hands full trying not to get finished off.

“I wonder why they underestimated the Old Guarders so badly.”

That was a question.

Maybe they’d just been thinking things would go their way? Not because they were stupid but to distract themselves from despair and rouse their courage. Maybe their survival instincts as human beings had maxed themselves out.

“Either way, looks pretty hopeless.”

“Yeah. Things are going downhill.”

“IF THEY HAD A CHANCE, I GUESS IT WOULD BE TO FOCUS ON DEFENSE AND BUY TIME UNTIL THE OTHER BURGLARS RETURNED?”

Everyone’s chilling gazes pierced Entoma.

“You don’t think they’re actually going to come back, do you?”

“……It’s obvious they won’t.”

“It’s impossible. No one can get out of the Great Tomb of Nazarick alive.”

An agonized scream along with the sound of something collapsing. The combat maids looked in the direction the sound had come from and voiced their disappointment.

“AH, THERE GOES THE THIEEEF.”

“That’s that, then.”

“Maybe we should have given in when they begged for their lives…”

“But they were so sure they would win! Anyone would think they had some kind of trick up their sleeves.”

The thick scent of fresh blood the thief must have spattered reached the maids.

“SMELLS GOOOOD…”

“Leave them,” Yuri said reprovingly.

They’d been ordered by their master to gather up all the incapacitated, whether dead or alive. There was no way they could be so rude as to present him with bodies with bites taken out of them.

“FRESH MEEEAT…”

“I’ll ask Lord Ainz later, so please control yourself for now.”

“Isn’t this kind of bad, though? Weren’t we supposed to be testing to see if the minions could deal with escapees?”

“I think so. That’s why there are such strong undead waiting near the walls.”

“MASTER COCYTUS SEEMS TO HAVE TAKEN THE SCENARIO IN WHICH THEY ARE CAUGHT TOO EASILY INTO ACCOUUUNT.”

“That they would challenge the Old Guarders head-on was a surprise.”

“That’s what happens when you don’t analyze your opponent’s strength. Okay, anyone who is breathing even a little, heal them and send them to the torture chamber. The dead ones…let’s report to Lord Ainz.”

Thus, that night, the worker team led by Palpatra disappeared.

2

“Push them back!” Gringham’s shout echoed in the burial chamber filled with the stench of mold and death.

The room was twenty yards square. The ceiling was high, probably sixteen feet. The figures practically overflowing the place could be seen by the magic light a caster had created plus a torch that had fallen to the floor.

Gringham and his team, Heavy Masher, had been driven into a corner. The rest of the burial chamber was crawling with zombies and skeletons, a mob of low-tier undead.

There were so many it was absurd to try to count.

Gringham and a warrior with a shield took the muddy torrent of death head-on, creating a bank so it wouldn’t reach the rear guard.

Zombie fists pelted Gringham’s full plate armor. As corpses, they were more powerful than regular humans, but there was no way they could damage steel armor. Their rotting, fragile hands smashed against it, leaving behind foul-smelling scraps of decomposing meat.

The skeletons were the same. There was no way their rusty swords were going to pierce enchanted armor.

Sure, coincidences were conceivable, but thanks to the magic defense they’d cast, none occurred.

Gringham swept his ax through the area in front of him, but as soon as one undead fell, another stepped up to take its place. They kept closing in, all but crushing the workers.

“Dammit! There’re too many of them!” The warrior with the shield next to Gringham let his distress slip. The shield was big enough to cover his entire body, so no attacks were connecting, but its entire surface was slick with foul liquids.

He was bashing in the heads of zombies and skeletons with his mace, but even so, he was losing to the pressure, slowly retreating.

“Where the hell did they all come from?!”

The warrior’s question was a natural one.

After parting with the other teams at an intersection, they had searched a number of rooms. Unfortunately, they hadn’t discovered as much treasure as had been in the smaller mausoleums. Still, they’d found a decent sum, and they had continued steadily making their way, bit by bit, through other rooms. Then they had entered this one, and when they began investigating, the door suddenly flew open and so many undead flooded in that no one could guess where they’d come from.

Zombies and skeletons weren’t such terrifying foes. But with these numbers, they could do a great deal of damage.

If the workers got pulled down and buried, even if they didn’t die, they wouldn’t be able to move. Then the undead would descend on the rear guard.

Not that Gringham thought they would fall so easily, but against the threat of these numbers, he was a bit worried.

At this rate, it’s sheer luck that our line is holding. Having made that observation, Gringham unleashed a power he’d been saving.

“Let us finish them all at once! I’m counting on you!”

The rear guard, who until now had just been throwing rocks, leaped into action.

Really, for Gringham and the other members of Heavy Masher, undead like these weren’t so tough. That’s why the rear guard had been on standby, saving their energy as much as possible. Once those reinforcements were in action, mopping up these undead would be a cinch.

“Our god, god of earth! Cast out the impure ones!” Clenching his sigil, the priest’s shout became his strength.

Something refreshing entered the atmosphere, like a pure breeze had blown through the burial chamber to sweep away its foul air—a stronger than normal wave of holy energy. It was the priest’s exorcism ability.

At the same time, beginning with the ones nearest the priest, the undead crumbled and turned to ashes.

In the case of an overwhelmingly large ability gap, undead could be destroyed instead of merely exorcized. But destroying a large number of undead was quite a bit more difficult and required that much more energy.

In the end, twenty were annihilated at once.

“Fly, Fireball!” An arcane caster launched a fireball, and it exploded right in the center of the undead mob. Flames blazed for only a split second, and the zombies and skeletons in range collapsed, their false life burned up.

“I’m not done yet! Fireball!”

“Our god, god of earth! Cast out the impure ones!”

Additional area-of-effect attacks decimated the undead.

“Let’s go!”

“Right!”

The warrior abandoned his shield, brandished his mace with both hands, and accompanied Gringham into the mob. The reason they charged in even though the casters could have made short work of the undead was that they preferred saving the magical energy. The priest’s exorcism, especially, had a limited number of uses. His specialization in anti-undead moves made him an essential asset in this tomb.

Leaping into a group of zombies, Gringham swung his ax. A liquid less like blood and more like glop oozed—if their hearts had been beating, it would have sprayed—from the stumps of severed body parts. A nauseating smell wafted out of the cuts, but it wasn’t more than he could stomach.

Or rather, his nose just couldn’t even distinguish it any longer.

He worked with the warrior to attack, attack, attack. Defense didn’t even cross their minds.

They were able to make such a reckless offensive because they had magic support and tough armor and because they were up against such weak undead.

Now and then Gringham felt the shock of a zombie punch to his head, but his helmet absorbed it, and the burden on his neck was almost nonexistent. His chest and abdomen may have been getting punched as well, but sure enough, he didn’t really feel it.

After all, their opponents were undead of the lowest tier. The number of them was what had made things tense; now that the cleanup had progressed to some degree, they began to feel more comfortable.

Without pausing his swings, the warrior shouted, “We’ve only encountered small fries, but this tomb sure has a lot of ’em!”

“That in itself means there could be a stronger one somewhere. That said, if there is one, I don’t get why it doesn’t come out.”

The who one answered was the priest, who had picked up the warrior’s shield and was watching the progress of the battle from behind them.

“…Mm, these undead might have been summoned somehow, like with ritual magic or an item.”

Strangely, the undead vanished after a set amount of time, so there weren’t so many of them that there was nowhere to stand. The wizard had warned the team because he noticed their disappearance was vaguely similar to the way summoned undead expired.

“A way to summon a huge number of low-tier undead? …No, sir! Do not make me imagine this entire tomb crammed full of zombies!” Gringham answered as he sliced off the head of a skeleton like he was cutting a branch off a tree. Then he flicked his eyes around the room. He could count the number of undead on two hands. The door was still open, but no new monsters were coming in. A little more fighting and this battle will be over.

Just as he thought that, he was assailed by a creeping sensation that started at his feet.

His ability to sense danger was ordering him to get out of there, but that was next to impossible under the circumstances. Still—

“Watch out! Leave the r—!” The thief must have sensed the same thing.

But it was too late. The hard, sturdy floor abruptly morphed into something that couldn’t be relied on. Instead, the workers felt like they were floating. A beat later, they lost their balance and smashed into the floor.

Gringham could hear his teammates groaning in pain. He, however, had managed to keep hold of his ax despite the fall and destroyed the skeletons on the floor with it as he got to his feet.

“Annihilate them!”

The undead had taken damage in the fall—especially the skeletons, who were weak against impact damage—so they were easier to kill than before.

After finishing them off, Gringham finally took a look around the room.

They must have dropped to the bottom of a magical pitfall where the floor of the room simply vanished. When he looked up, the ceiling was so far away—eyeballing it, probably almost forty feet. About ten feet up was a closed door, and another ten feet up—a total of twenty—was an open door. That was the one they’d come through originally. It probably made sense to assume they had fallen two stories.

Overall, the construction of the room could perhaps best be described as a tall, four-sided pillar with a floor that sloped steeply downward like an inverted square pyramid; if they weren’t careful, they would slide down to the lowest point in the center of the room. Actually, one of his teammates had tumbled to the center in their original fall and was in danger of being buried under the zombies that tumbled down after them.

Gringham couldn’t believe they had plunged into such a place virtually unharmed.

The strange thing was that ten feet up, at the height of the closed door, there were sixteen passages, four on each wall of the room.

“It seems like a water torture chamber. It’d just come gushing out of those passageways… Ugh. Or slime—that would be even worse!”

“I totally agree. Let’s hurry up and investigate that door. If it’s safe, let’s escape through it.”

It would, naturally, be difficult to scale two stories of a wall that had no handholds. The only one who could do it was probably the thief. For those in full plate armor, like Gringham, it would be nearly impossible. While the unknown lower door made them anxious, it would be easier to reach.

As they were discussing how to go about climbing up, some things poked their heads out of the sixteen passageways, all at about the same time. They were corpses so swollen they looked like they were about to burst: plague bombers.

Bulging with hoarded-up negative energy, plague bombers, which resembled chunks of meat, were exasperating undead that exploded when attacked, dealing damage to the living and healing undead.

They jumped. Crashing into the floor, their bodies made a sickening sound, but the problem was what happened next. The rotund monsters falling onto the steep slope rolled down like boulders toward Gringham and his team.

“Look out! Dodge ’em!”

“You don’t need to tell me twice—I’m the brains of this team!”

They all—including the whimpering wizard—just barely managed to evade the monsters, which continued rolling down to the center of the inverted square pyramid.

When the next plague bombers peeked their horrible faces out of the passages, Gringham realized that these had been just the first wave and got an idea of what was in store for them.

“Run! These things are going to bury us!”

If they were hit by one of the plague bombers and tumbled to the center, they were sure to be crushed. If that didn’t kill them, repeated hits of negative energy from the bursting monsters their teammates were fighting would.

“What a treacherous trap! Someone give me a boost!”

“Don’t be ridiculous! We wouldn’t be able to dodge if we did that!”

Even if they managed to evade the falling monster, their balance would be off, so they wouldn’t be able to dodge the next attack. Asking someone to be a foothold under those circumstances was too much.

“Then I’ll use magic!”

“Don’t Fly! You’re not strong enough to carry us all up there.”

“No! Not—agh, watch out—that! Web Ladder!”

“That could work! Aim for the closer door! Gringham, cover him!”

“No! Stop! We’ll escape through the door two stories up, the one we came in through! The lower one is too dangerous!”

They didn’t have time to ask what gave him that idea, but they trusted him.

“Web Ladder!”

The spell created a spiderweb that led straight to the door two stories up. The magic spiderweb’s stronger-than-normal adhesion was sticky when one wanted to be fixed to the web and released when one wanted to move again. The spell really could be used just like a ladder.

With rushed but flawless movements, Gringham and his team climbed up the web one after the other like prayer beads on a string.

When they finally reached the open door, Gringham cautiously looked inside. Getting shoved from there and falling all the way down would have been unbearable.

He sighed in relief. They seemed to have escaped the scenario he’d been afraid of; there were no undead in sight.

Having confirmed that, he scrambled into the hallway and began hauling the others up.

“We’re saved! Getting crushed to death by undead has got to be up there among the worst possible ways to die.”

“These ruins are built in a pretty nasty way. I hurt my leg a bit in the fall. Can you heal me?”

“I thought I felt my toes tingling in the explosions of negative energy. That was terrifying!”

“I was lucky I even managed to dodge! Don’t make your wizard dodge!”

Everyone grumbled, breathing raggedly.

“Hey, Gringham. Why did we avoid that door? I kinda thought it might actually be the right way. It would be logical to make the correct route dangerous, right?”

“It’s just a hunch, but…try attacking it with a weapon we don’t need.” Gringham gave a raw answer, having run out of poise, and the thief immediately threw a dagger.

Just as it hit—or would have—part of the door swelled up to form a tentacle and slapped it away.

“It’s…a door imitator! Er, no, judging from the color of the appendage, an undead door imitator! They capture opponents in a sticky liquid and go to town on them with their tentacles.”

“Tch! A plan B trap, huh? How tricky. Nice job seeing through it!”

“It was only intuition. No, honestly, all I did was choose the known over the unknown. And that spot was getting bathed in the negative energy bursts. I don’t think it affects nonliving things like doors so much, but I mainly doubted whether it really made sense to put a hallway there. Okay, should we get go—?”

Gringham abruptly closed his mouth. The thief who had been so chatty up until a minute ago had put a finger to his lips and was focusing his ears.

Gringham strained his own ears and noticed the regular sound of something hitting the floor.

Everyone looked in the direction the noise was coming from—down the hall.

“An enemy…I guess? I wish they’d give us time to rest.”

“Yeah, if there’s one sound and whatever’s making it isn’t even trying to move stealthily, it must be an enemy. I’ll be glad if this is the end of them…”

All of them quietly drew their weapons. The warrior took his shield back and stood at the front, protecting one side of his body. The wizard had his glowing staff pointed down the hall, ready to cast at any moment. The priest raised his sigil, and the thief took aim with his bow.

The tapping sound grew louder, and finally the thing making it came into view.

A gorgeous yet worn robe was wrapped around a figure thinner than a young girl. The noise must have been the gnarled staff the figure held in one hand.

The thing had a face—a bit of skin stretched over bone, beginning to rot—that contained a dark wisdom. The negative energy its body gave off hung around it, mist-like.

It was an undead caster. It was called—

“An elder lich!” the wizard, first to identify the monster, cried out.

Yes. It was the worst sort of monster, which appeared when negative life occupied the corpse of an evil caster.

The moment they heard it was an elder lich, Gringham and his teammates changed formation. They staggered positions so no one was obstructed and kept some distance from one another as a precaution against area-of-effect spells.

An elder lich was a fairly strong enemy; for platinum-rank adventurers it would still be pretty difficult, while a mythril-rank team would have a decent enough chance of winning.

For Gringham’s team, if they didn’t think about how tired they were, they could defeat it. Luckily, this time he’d brought along members who were quite strong against undead. That was encouraging.

It would have been tough to fight if the lich had kept some distance, but at this range, he felt they could probably gain the advantage.

“So this is the master of the tomb!” That’s what Gringham had concluded. An elder lich was a ruler. They controlled mobs of undead and sometimes had dealings with the living.

There were even famous elder liches, like the captain of the ghost ship that sometimes sailed through the fog on the Katze Plain or the one ruling an abandoned castle.

If this one was an elder lich like them, it wouldn’t be any surprise if it were the master of the tomb.

“So we hit the jackpot? Super lucky!”

“Uh, it’s not like the request was to kill the master of the tomb, you know.”

“Shall we show it the might of Heavy Masher?”

“Let’s show it our divine protection!”

Everyone chimed in excitedly. They roared to chase off the fear of facing such a powerful enemy.

“We need defense magic and…” Just as Gringham was about to shout the plan of attack to his determined teammates, he was assailed by the feeling something was off. He understood its cause immediately. It was the enemy before them, the elder lich.

“……What is it?”

“We’re not…taking it by surprise, are we?”

Although the party was in full sight, the elder lich didn’t make a single move. It didn’t raise its staff or begin casting a spell. It simply watched them in silence.

The workers couldn’t contain their confusion. The monster had obliterated their prediction that it would engage them immediately, but now they hesitated to make the first move and attack.

Certainly undead were hostile to the living, but it was also true that some of the intelligent ones could negotiate. Usually if a living thing initiated, the terms went in favor of the undead, but if the undead proposed a truce, one could sometimes acquire an item made with technology lost long ago.

In any case, when it came to an enemy as powerful as an elder lich, there was nothing better than getting through an encounter without fighting. Perhaps it was irritated that its traps hadn’t finished them off, but there was also the possibility that it recognized their ability and had chosen the peaceful path of striking a deal.

Thinking that way, it was horribly thoughtless to make the first move and attack. That would mean completely abandoning potential negotiations. But they were in enemy territory. With no secure escape route, they risked a tough battle ahead.

The team exchanged glances and concluded they were all thinking the same thing.

Speaking on behalf of the team was the job of the leader, naturally.

“Excuse us for intruding. You seem to be the master of this tomb. We—”

The elder lich turned its awful face to Gringham and pointed a bony finger at him.

It meant, Shut up.

The gesture didn’t seem very elder lich–like at all, but he wasn’t brave—no, suicidal—enough to say it to the powerful monster’s face.

Gringham obediently shut his mouth. Then in the hallway over which silence had fallen once more, he heard that sound again, and strained his ears in spite of himself.

It was the familiar sound of something tapping against the floor—but of more than one something.

Gringham and his teammates all looked at one another. Upon hearing the sound, the conclusion they had arrived at was inconceivable.

Then they all shrieked at once.

“Who said this elder lich was the master of the tomb?!”

“Sorry! It was me!”

“Are you fucking kidding me? This can’t be happening!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa—there’s no way we can win this!”

“Even divine protection has its limits!”

More elder liches appeared from behind the first one—six of them.

That meant a total of seven immensely powerful undead casters.

Certainly since they were all one race, their method of attack would be the same. If only they had a way to neutralize all the monsters’ attacks, they would be able to defeat all seven of them.

Of course, they didn’t have such a way, and neither could they possibly acquire one.

Under those impossible circumstances, Gringham and his team completely lost the will to fight.

“Now then, shall we begin?”

As the elder lich, who had not the slightest intention of negotiating, spoke, the seven staves were slowly raised.

At the same time, Gringham’s scream rang out. “Retreat!”

As if they’d been just waiting for him to say the word, everyone ran as fast as they could. They raced in the opposite direction of the elder liches. Of course, they didn’t have the presence of mind to consider what might be at the end of the hallway. They just wanted to survive the excessive power of the mob of elder liches a little longer.

At the front of the line was the thief. Then came Gringham, the wizard, the priest, and the warrior.

The workers ran. They ran with no misgivings.

A corner. Normally, they would be on the lookout for monsters or traps, but with footsteps coming after them, they didn’t have time to make cautious observations. They left their fates to chance and raced on.

Both sides of the hallway had stone doors, but when they imagined the possibility of dead ends, the courage to open one was nowhere to be found.

The clanking of the workers in metal armor as they ran echoed off the walls. The noise could have given away their position to other monsters, but they didn’t have the presence of mind to cast Silence.

They ran, and ran, and ran.

They pumped their legs in a frenzy, turned random corners, and got lost after sprinting down each hallway; they no longer had any idea where they were.

They would have liked to get back to the entrance, but they didn’t have the wherewithal.

“Are they still behind us?” Gringham shouted as they ran.

The warrior bringing up the rear answered, “Yeah! They’re running after us!”

“Dammit!”

“Don’t run! Use Fly!”

“If they flew over here, the next thing that would fly at us would be spells, you idiot!”

“Let’s hole up in one of these little rooms and try to negotiate!” the wizard shouted, gasping for air. He was the weakest of the group and seemed about ready to collapse.

This is bad, thought Gringham. Physically, he’s not going to last much longer.

Undead monsters like elder liches didn’t get tired. If Gringham and his men kept getting chased, they would slowly be killed off as they ran out of energy.

“Why the heck are there that many elder liches…?”

Common sense said this situation couldn’t be.

“The master of this tomb must be stronger than an elder lich, huh?”

That was the only answer that made sense. But did such an undead even exist? Gringham didn’t know.

“Dammit! This fucking tomb!” the wheezing warrior at the end of the line screamed.

As if on cue, a crest appeared glowing in the floor. It was big enough to capture all of Gringham and his teammates inside.

“Wha—?!”

Someone’s voice, something like a scream, rang out…

This floating sensation was different from the fall earlier.

Gringham’s field of vision was enveloped in pitch-black. He could hear things crunching and snapping underfoot and sensed his body slowing sinking. It felt like he’d been thrown into a swamp. He panicked for a split second before realizing it didn’t seem terribly deep. He sank to about his hips but no farther.

In the darkness ruled by quiet, he asked in the timid voice of a boy who’d lost sight of his parents, “…Is anybody there?”

“Over here, Gringham.” The voice of the thief gave an immediate answer—and from not too far away. He was probably about as far away as he had been while they were running.

“…Is anyone else around?”

There was no reply. He’d expected as much. If there wasn’t a light, it meant his wizard and warrior weren’t around. He just had to count himself lucky the thief was there.

“…Seems like it’s just us.”

“Thou art…tch! Ya, you’re right.”

He scanned their surroundings without taking a single step. The deep darkness went on forever, and a fear welled up inside him—he couldn’t tell where the darkness stopped and his body started.

There’s no sign of anything moving, but…

“Should we turn on a light?”

“Guess we have to.”

It was unfortunate, but despite countless worries—moving would break the silence, maybe it would trigger a trap—their human eyes couldn’t penetrate the darkness. They needed a light no matter what.

“Okay, just a sec.”

Gringham sensed some rummaging around from the direction of the thief. Then a light appeared.

The first thing he saw was the thief holding up the Fluorescent Stick. Next, innumerable gleams, reflections of the light. It reminded him of the treasure they’d seen in the mausoleum—but something was different.

Gringham frantically bit back the scream that welled up deep in his throat. The thief’s face also seemed to cramp up.

The countless reflections, the sparkles, were bugs—cockroaches—that completely buried the area. The smallest were the size of the tip of his pinkie finger, but the largest were over three feet long. Layers upon layers of cockroaches.

The crunching sensation beneath his feet was trampled cockroaches. Considering the bugs were piled up to his hips, he didn’t want to imagine how many of them there must have been.

The room was so large the light didn’t reach its walls. Considering the range of a Fluorescent Stick was around fifteen yards, they got an idea of how big the room was. When they looked up at the ceiling, there were a great many cockroaches reflecting the light there as well.

“Where…are we…?” the thief gasped in a murmur.

Gringham understood how he felt. He must have thought the bugs would start to move if he raised his voice.

“What the hell happened?”

As the thief scanned the area, Gringham recalled the scene before they found themselves in this darkness, the magic circle that had appeared on the floor, and asked, “…Probably a pitfall, no?”

“No, it can’t be that. I think we were hit by some magic…”

“A teleportation trap…? Or did the elder liches cast something?”

Teleportation spells were normal. For instance, there was the tier-three escape spell, Dimensional Move. But that only teleported the user. To teleport someone else—and more than one person at that—

“There’s some tier-six spell that can teleport multiple people, I think, right?”

“Ahh yeah, I think you’re right.”

“But could there really be someone who can use it…?”

Gringham didn’t even know of that many casters who could use tier five. But it still made sense to him. He could see how there would be multiple elder liches here if such an absolute power existed. It would probably have no problem dominating them and ordering them around.

It hit Gringham what a dangerous place this tomb was, and he shuddered. He also felt a hostility toward the count, the requester, appear inside him. Of course, it was Gringham and his team who had taken the job; they’d understood the risks and bet the chips of their lives. If someone had said he was just blaming his problems out on the count, there wouldn’t have been any way to argue.

But the count should have been informed to some degree. If he weren’t, he wouldn’t have made the request to survey the tomb, offered such a large reward, gathered together so many workers, and sent them there.

“So he was sitting on some info? Shit… Let’s hurry up and get out of here. These ruins…should have been left untouched.”

“Yeah, sounds good. I’ll go out in front, Gringham. Follow me.”

It seemed like the thief hadn’t realized yet—that none of the cockroaches were moving one bit—but that was probably for the best.

Gringham flicked his eyes over all the cockroaches before him.

From the way their feelers were moving slightly, he could tell they weren’t dead, but they didn’t budge. An uncanny feeling he couldn’t place took root in his mind.

“No, I doubt you can escape.”

Suddenly, a third voice sounded.

“Who’s there?”

Gringham and the thief scanned the area in a panic but couldn’t sense anything moving.

“Oh, how rude of me. I am the Prince of Fear, the one who was granted this realm by Lord Ainz. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

When they looked in the direction the voice came from, something strange appeared in their line of sight. Something was shoving the cockroaches aside, trying to get out from beneath them.

They weren’t at a range where they could use close-proximity weapons. The thief silently drew his bow. Gringham moved to get out his sling—but stopped. He thought if it came to it, he would wade through the cockroaches and cut the thing.

Before long, the creature pushing through the other cockroaches emerged—and it was yet another cockroach.

But it had an elegance that set it apart from its surrounding brethren. This cockroach was nearly a foot tall and stood upright on two legs.

It wore a brilliant red cape gorgeously bordered in gold thread, and a golden crown sparkled on its head. In its forelegs, it carried a scepter with a pure-white jewel at the tip.

The strangest thing of all was that despite standing upright, its head was still pointed at Gringham and the thief. If a normal insect stood upright, its head would, of course, point up. But this odd being before them was different.

Besides that, there wasn’t anything else in particular to separate it from the other cockroaches. But that one difference was plenty.

The worker pair exchanged glances and decided that Gringham would be in charge of negotiations. The thief still had an arrow nocked. Once Gringham made sure it was pointed down, he addressed the Prince of Fear. “Who…are you?”

“Hmm. It seems you weren’t paying attention just now. Shall I introduce myself again?”

“No, I don’t mean like that—” Having gotten that far, Gringham realized that wasn’t what he needed to be asking. “…I’ll be blunt. Want to make a deal?”

“Oh-ho. A deal? I’m grateful to you both, so I’m not adverse to the idea.”

The mystery contained in those words—what was he grateful for?—gave Gringham pause, but he wasn’t in a position to ask.

“We would like…to be let out of this room unharmed.”

“I see. That’s only natural. But even if you got out of this room, we’re currently on the second level of the Great Tomb of Nazarick. I must advise you, it would be extremely difficult to return to the surface.”

The second level…

Gringham’s eyes widened at the words.

“Am I right in thinking that the area through the door at a slight descent from the mausoleum on the surface is level one?”

“Isn’t that the usual way to count them?”

“Well, yeah, but I just wanted to confirm.”

“Ha-haa! Well, you were teleported from level one, so it makes sense that you’re a little turned around.”

With the cockroach before him somehow nodding its head, Gringham felt a freezing chill like he’d been stabbed with an icicle.

It was fear due to his earlier conversation with the thief being affirmed.

It meant that somehow—who knew?—someone had used teleportation magic like a trap. What kind of spell? What sort of technique? He wasn’t a caster, but even he knew what an incredible feat that was.

“…It would be great if you would also tell us how to get out of the tomb, but we aren’t hoping for that much. Letting us out of this room is fine.”

“Hmm, hmm.”

“In return, we’ll…give you what you want.”

“I see…” The Prince of Fear nodded emphatically and appeared to be thinking things over.

A short time passed in the quiet room. Soon enough, the Prince of Fear seemed to have made up his mind and spoke.

“I already have what I want. Anything you are capable of offering is insufficient.”

Gringham was about to speak, but the prince held up his forelegs to silence him and continued.

“But before we get to that, you seem to be wondering why I’m grateful to you, so I will satisfy that curiosity now. My kin are sick and tired of cannibalism; thus, you two delectable morsels have my thanks.”

“Wha—?!”

The moment he comprehended the words, the thief loosed his arrow.

It flew through the air, got caught in the prince’s cape, and fell impotently.

Then the room began to squirm.

With myriad rustling noises, the prince’s kin formed something gigantic.

And there was a tsunami.

A dark torrent.

“It’s a terrible shame that there are only two of you, but please try to fill the stomachs of my kin.”

The massive, swollen wave engulfed Gringham and the thief. It was exactly like they’d been hit by a tidal wave.

As he was swallowed up by the black maelstrom, Gringham frantically batted at the cockroaches coming in through the gaps in his armor.

A weapon wouldn’t work against a mass of tiny insects, but Gringham didn’t have any area-of-effect attacks. It was faster to just swat them with his hands. For that reason, he’d already thrown away his weapon and had no idea where it had gone.

He tried to flail his arms, but it was difficult to move now that he was completely covered in bugs. The scene was like a drowning man’s floundering. The only sound he could hear was the scrabbling of countless cockroaches.

It was impossible to make out the voice of his teammate, the thief, over the din.

But of course he couldn’t hear the thief’s voice. The thief was in no condition to speak due to the cockroaches crawling into his mouth, down his throat, and even into his stomach.

Gringham felt prickling pains here and there; the cockroaches that had invaded through the cracks in his armor were gnawing at him.

“N—!” He tried to scream, but cockroaches plugged up his mouth. He frantically spat them out, but others forced their way through the slight part in his lips. And his mouth crawled with them.

Perhaps small ones had entered his ears? The rustling grew awfully loud, and he started to itch.

Innumerable cockroaches squirmed on his face, biting into him. Pain in his eyelids, but he couldn’t open his eyes. It was easy to guess what would happen if he did.

Gringham had already understood what would become of him—that at this rate, he would be eaten alive by cockroaches.

“I can’t stand this!” he screamed, and the bugs poured in. They tried to wriggle down his throat. Then he felt something slip down and drop into his stomach. The sensation of a live cockroach running amok in his belly made him sick.

He struggled for all he was worth.

I don’t want to die like this.

He wanted to show up his older brothers. That was the driving force that had gotten him here.

He’d already saved enough money to live comfortably without adventuring anymore, and with his reputation, he could wed the kind of beautiful girl one would never meet in a village. Whether in power or wealth, he should have already surpassed his brothers—he had won at life.

So he didn’t want to meet his end like this.

“Aghblorgh—aagh! I’m getting out of here aliiiive!” he screamed, spitting out chewed-up cockroaches.

“You’re really hanging on, aren’t you? Well, let’s have seconds.”

A few moments later, even his screams were swallowed up by the black maelstrom.

The man’s eyes snapped open.

His field of vision contained a ceiling. It was made of stone and something giving off white light was embedded in it. He couldn’t understand why he was there, and when he tried to look around, he realized he couldn’t move his head. No, not only his head. His wrists, ankles, hips, and chest had been tied to something—he was essentially immobilized.

The incomprehensible situation frightened him, and he wanted to scream, but there was something fitted to his mouth that prevented him from closing it or speaking.

As he was desperately rolling his eyes around, trying to take in the area, he heard a voice.

“Oh? You’re awake?”

A deep, rough voice. He couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman.

A horrifying monster moved into his field of vision.

Although it had a human body, its head resembled a warped octopus. Six tentacles hung down to around its thighs, wriggling.

The thing’s skin tone was the muddled white of a drowning victim. Just like a drowning victim, its body was bloated, and instead of clothes, it was bound in a few black leather belts. They pressed into its flesh like the string used to tie a roast, and the resulting sight was awful. If a beautiful woman had been wearing them, she would have been alluring, but this terrible monster was sickening.

It had four thin, webbed fingers per hand. Its nails were long, but they were all gorgeously manicured with strange art.

That was the weird creature who turned its pale, murky, pupil-less eyes on the man.

“Ooh-hoo-hoo! Did you sleep all right, honey?”

He just panted.

Shock and horror. Those two emotions combined to make his breath rough. A hand caressed his cheek with the kindness a mother would use to calm a frightened child.

It felt horribly cold and clammy and sent shudders through his entire body.

It would have been perfect if it had smelled like blood and rot, but instead it carried the pleasant scent of flowers. That only terrified him further.

“Oh, you don’t have to be scared to the point of shrinking like that!”

The monster was eyeing his crotch. He only now realized, from the feeling of the air on his skin, that he was naked.

“Umm, perhaps I should ask your name, honey.”

A thin finger poked into the area that seemed to be the monster’s cheek, and it cocked its head. If a pretty girl had done it, it would have been nice to see, but this was an octopus-headed, drowned-body monster. All he felt was hatred and fear.

“…”

The monster smiled at him as his eyes darted around. Its mouth was completely concealed by its tentacles, and its expression had hardly changed. The way he knew it had smiled was that its cold, glass-like eyes had narrowed.

“Ooh-hoo-hoo-hoo! So you don’t want to say? What a cutie, all bashful.”

The monster ran a finger over his bare chest as if writing something, but all he felt was the terror that his heart might be ripped out at any moment.

“First, I’ll tell you my name, honey-bunny.” Syrupy words that seemed punctuated with heart marks—in that deep, coarse voice. “I’m Neuronist, the Great Tomb of Nazarick’s Special Officer of Intelligence Gathering. Well, I’m also called the Officer of Torture…”

The long tentacles undulated, revealing the mouth at their base. A tube slipped out like a tongue from the opening lined with pointy fangs. It was just like a straw.

“Pretty soon I’ll give you a little kiss and slurrrp.”

What are you going to slurp?! Disturbed, he tried to move, but he was completely restrained.

“Now then, now then. So, we caught you.”

Yes. The last thing he remembered was Gringham and the thief running ahead of him disappearing. From then up until now was a blank.

“You must at least know where you are.” Neuronist smiled and went on. “This is the Great Tomb of Nazarick where the last of the Forty-One Supreme Beings, Lord Momo—no, Ainz resides. It’s the most sacred place in the world.”

“Row Aith?”

“Yes, Lord Ainz.” Although he couldn’t pronounce things properly, Neuronist understood and ran its hands over his skin. “He’s one of the Forty-One Supreme Beings. He was once their leader. And he’s so, so wonderful. If you see him someday, you’ll want to devote yourself to him, too! If he called me to bed, I’d even let him be my first time.” The monster didn’t fidget but fairly writhed back and forth, as if embarrassed. “Hey, listen to this.” The monster doodled with a finger on his chest in the same way a bashful young girl would toy with her hands. “Last time Lord Ainz came here, he was staring at my body! It was the gaze of a male selecting his prey. And then he awkwardly averted his eyes! Oh, it gave me butterflies in my chest and chills down my spine.”

It suddenly stopped moving and leaned closer to peer into his eyes. He was desperate to escape from the odd-looking thing, but his body didn’t budge.

“Little Shalltear and ugly Albedo both seem to be after Lord Ainz’s affections, too, but I definitely have more charm than them! Don’t you think?”

“Yeth, I thoo.”

What would happen to me if I didn’t agree? The fear made him answer in the affirmative.

Neuronist smiled and, clasping its hands together, gazed into space. It looked just like a religious fanatic praying to the heavens.

“Ooh-hoo-hoo. You’re so nice, honey. Or are you simply telling the truth as it is? But why doesn’t he call me, then…? Ahh, Lord Ainz… I love how stoic he can be…”

Its emotional trembling reminded him of the writhing of a fat annelid.

It sighed. “Ah, he makes me quiver. Oh, but I’m so sorry for rambling on like this.”

Please just forget me. But Neuronist ignored his thoughts and continued.

“I’ll go ahead and tell you what fate has in store for you. Do you know what a choir is?”

He blinked blankly at the sudden question.

Perhaps deciding his confusion meant he didn’t understand, Neuronist began to explain. “It’s a chorus that sings sacred songs, hymns, to glorify and adore a god. I’m going to have you be a member. With your friend.”

If that was all, it wouldn’t be so bad. It wasn’t as if he was confident in his singing, but he wasn’t tone-deaf, either. Was this monster really after something so commonplace, though? Unable to conceal his creeping worry, he gave Neuronist a sidelong look.

“Really, honey. A choir. Even if you fools haven’t sworn allegiance to Lord Ainz, singing loudly can be an offering to him. Yes, I want you to sing all together. Ahh, it gives me chills—gospel music from Neuronist to Lord Ainz!”

A foggy color came over its creepy eyes. Had it gotten overexcited from its own imaginings? Its thin fingers wriggled like bugs.

“Ooh-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo. Now then, I’ll introduce your chorus’s helpers.”

They must have been in the corner of the room up until then; several figures abruptly moved into his field of vision.

Seeing the creatures made him forget to breathe for a moment—because it was clear from a glance that they were evil.

They wore fitted black leather aprons. Their bodies were paler than milk. Purple blood vessels were visible beneath that skin—if such a thing as purple blood existed.

Black leather masks with not even the tiniest gap covered their entire heads; how they saw anything or breathed was a mystery. And they had extremely long arms—they were about six and a half feet tall, but if they extended their arms, they probably would have reached past their knees.

They wore fully stocked tool belts around their hips.

There were four of these creatures.

“These are the torturers. These little dears are going to help me give you a wonderful singing voice.”

He had a bad feeling. Realizing what “singing” meant, he struggled frantically to escape. But as expected, he couldn’t move.

“It’s no use, honey. You can’t break the restraints with those puny muscles. These little dears will cast healing magic on you so you can practice a bunch!” It spoke in a tone that said, I’m so nice, aren’t I?

“Thop id!” he screamed with tears in his eyes.

“Hmm? What’s that? You want me to stop?” it asked him gently. Then it waved its six tentacles.

“Listen here, honey-bunny. We creations of the Supreme Beings are permitted to exist because he stayed behind. We exist to serve him. Do you really think we would show a crumb of mercy to a bunch of thieves who tramped into his house with their dirty feet? Really?”

“I’m thowwy!”

“Yes, that’s right. Repentance is vital.”

Neuronist took a thin rod out from somewhere. It was topped with a thorn less than a fifth of an inch long.

“First, I’ll use this.”

He didn’t know what it was for, so Neuronist gleefully explained.

“My creator suffered from a horrible little thing called urethral calculus. So I’ll perform this act in honor of him. You’re all little right now, so I think it’ll go in nice and easy.”

“Noo, thop!”

Upon realizing what was about to happen, he began to sob, and Neuronist drew its face in close.

“We’re going to be together for quite some time. Things’ll be tough if you start crying now, honey.”

3

The teams had all chosen different directions at an intersection, and Elya Uzruth chose the path straight ahead based on his unfounded belief that the strongest enemies would be in the back.

Along the way there had been stone doors and too many corners to count, but he just kept walking silently in what he felt was the right way. He was bored stiff by how uneventful it had been. Not only were there no monsters, there weren’t even any traps.

Is this the wrong way? Elya wondered and clicked his tongue.

“You dolt. Keep going.” He gave orders in a sharp tone to the elf slave he was making walk about ten yards ahead because it seemed like she was about to stop. She trembled a split second and then trudged forward. She’d barely been allowed any rest since they’d entered the tomb.

So far, luckily, nothing had happened, but if there was a trap, there was a good chance she’d die.

It was less like he was having her search for traps and more like he was sending her into a mine as his canary. Elya’s team was made up of himself and three elf slaves with different abilities: ranger, priest, druid. It was a waste to order her out front when he had no replacement for her search skills—but he had his reasons.

He was simply sick of her.

Many people hearing this would be shocked. Not from an ethical standpoint, but in terms of finances.

Slaves from the Slane Theocracy were not cheap. Especially for elves, the price could jump dramatically depending on their looks and what skills they possessed. Usually they fetched eye-popping prices; ordinary citizens couldn’t hope to get their hands on one.

When it came to elves with skills, they were worth about as much as an enchanted weapon with some special effect. Even Elya couldn’t shell out that much over and over.

But Elya took all of Tenbu’s compensation for himself, so if things went well, he could make his money back quicker than one would guess. That was why if he was sick of an elf, he didn’t have to worry if she died.

Next time I want one with slightly bigger breasts… That was what he was thinking as he watched the elf trudging ahead. It’s fun to grab ’em hard and make ’em scream…

Since this was a joint job, he hadn’t bedded an elf in several days. Not that anyone would complain if he did, but there could be some unpleasantness due to jealousy. Elya had enough common sense as a worker to know what a disadvantage that could become.

But the built-up desire was giving him daydreams.

“Or maybe next time I’ll try to get one like that lady.”

The one he had in mind was a member of Foresight—a half elf who always looked at him with loathing in her eyes.

She was truly a pain.

There was another woman, maybe more like a girl, on that team with her. He accepted the openly antipathetic way she looked at him. Women rarely understood a man’s sex drive, and at her age, she probably thought boys had cooties. But he couldn’t forgive the lower life-form looking at a human like the half elf did.

Even just remembering it caused the flames of anger to scorch his handsome features.

“I’d like to beat that disgusting face of hers until she can’t resist anymore…”

By the time elf slaves reached their owner’s hands, they’d had their spirit broken in various ways. An elf slave would never rebel.

But if he set his sights on that half elf, she would struggle against him like a wild animal. It wouldn’t be difficult for him to break and conquer her, but he probably wouldn’t make it through unscathed, and he wasn’t at all confident he could take her alive.

Envisioning himself punching Imina several times in the face, he was slow to realize the elf walking ahead of him had stopped.

“Why did you stop? Walk.”

“Eek…! I, uh, I hear a noise.”

“A noise?” He frowned at the elf, who had mustered all her courage to answer, and focused all his attention on his ears. The area was silent—so still it hurt.

“…I don’t hear it.” Normally he would strike her at that point, but elves had better hearing than humans. There was a good chance that even if he couldn’t pick it up, the elves could. To confirm, he asked the other two next to him. “How about you two?”

“Y-yes, I hear something.”

“Th-the sound of metal clanging.”

“…Is that so?”

The sound of metal clanging would definitely not arise in nature.

So it had to be a sound someone was making. In other words, it was possible they would engage in combat for the first time since entering the tomb. The thought excited Elya.

“We’re going to find whatever it is that’s making that sound.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

He had the elf walk out front, and they proceeded in the direction of the noise.

Before long, Elya could also hear the metallic clanging. Two hard things were clashing with quite some force. Then a sharp scream.

“Is it another team fighting? I didn’t intend to move in an arc, but it seems we’ve come across one of the other groups.” With a bucket of cold water thrown over his near-giddy excitement, Elya lost his motivation and sighed. “Well, it’s fine. Maybe we can fight as reinforcements.”

As they continued walking toward the source of the noise, Elya began to feel something was off, that for a battle, it didn’t sound right. It’s almost as if it’s—

His doubt was cleared up when they turned the corner. It was a room big enough for dozens of people to run around inside. Inside were ten lavishly armored lizardmen. They all had collars around their necks, but the chains were severed and hung loosely.

They were swinging swords at one another. The blows were unleashed with intense screams and repelled with determined slashes. These exchanges were going on throughout the room. The scene resembled a fierce battle, but Elya saw at a glance that it was training.

The fact that they stopped the moment Elya and the others entered the room made it certain.

Also inside were one giant, with a tower shield, wearing black full plate armor that had a crimson pattern like blood vessels, and someone else—or perhaps something else was more accurate.

It was a huge magical beast with a silver coat and wise eyes.

“So you’ve finally come, have you, raiders?”

Magical beasts who could talk were usually trouble. Magical beasts usually just forced things with their robust physiques, but the highly intelligent ones could use magic.

Elya was sure of himself as a genius swordsman, but he wasn’t so great with magic. Flexing his core and steeling his mind, he prepared to resist his opponent’s spells and asked, “Who are you?”

He probably didn’t need to. As long as it was waiting for them, it had to be one of the tomb’s defenders. The question was: Where in the hierarchy?

From the beast’s appearance, it was possible that it was the master of the tomb. If that was the case, slaying it would be meritorious service of the first rank. It would make his team the most outstanding one on the job. Tenbu was Elya’s team and his alone. That would mean he was the best of all the workers there. Luck was an important part of being a worker.

“I was told to act as your opponent, that I was. We were supposed to test several things, that we were, but…you’re no match for me, no, you’re not.”

Disappointment and irritation assailed him at once. The former was due to the fact that this monster was only a watchman. The latter was due to being taken lightly.

“You’re gonna say that without even fighting me? Hey!”

“S-sir!”

The elf he’d called for in a low voice jumped. The sight of it was immensely satisfying. That was the proper attitude for addressing him. His mind was soothed after the irritation of spending so much time cohabitating with Momon, whom everyone looked up to.

“What kind of magical beast is that?”

“I-I-I’m sorry. I-I’m not familiar with it.”

“Tch! Useless.”

He struck the useless elf with the hilt of his sword.

She fell to the floor and, covering her face, issued a stream of apologies, but he ignored her and examined the magical beast’s build.

It was so big that attacking it head-on didn’t seem like it would be advantageous, but that’s how most magical beasts were, and he’d killed plenty of them. It was ridiculous to be scared of it just because it was a type he didn’t know.

Caution was necessary, but going past cautious to scared was the height of incompetence.

“Let me ask you something. Do you have any reason for believing you can win against me?”

“You look so weak, that you do…”

Elya scowled and he gripped his sword harder. “Well, it seems like you’ve got knotholes for eyes. Shall I gouge them out for you?”

“Please do not, that I ask. Now then, my orders say it’s all right for me to kill you, that they do, so…let’s start this fight, shall we?”

Its tone was carefree. That further irritated Elya.

He wanted to just attack without saying anything more, but swinging his sword at the magical beast while it was so composed would make him feel inferior. So he held himself back and scoffed. “Yes, let’s—beast.”

“By the way, I wonder what you’re doing, that I do. Those elves need to prepare, do they not?”

“I don’t need them. More importantly, those lizards behind you…”

“Yes, no need to worry about them, no, there isn’t. They are only here to watch us, that they are. Pay no attention to them, that I say.”

“Giving up your sole chance at victory? You’re a brave one.”

“I’m glad for your praise, that I am.”

So it doesn’t understand sarcasm. It understands words, but I guess it’s not that smart? Elya was thinking, when the beast spoke again, wiggling its whiskers.

“Even so, I’ll mercilessly kill you, that I will, so come at me with your full strength, that I wish. As I said earlier, this is a test for me, that it is…”

“A test? As a gatekeeper?”

“Not quite, no. A test of whether I’ve progressed as a warrior or not, that it is. Now then, it’s about time for me to attack, that it is. For the moment I will not fight the elves behind you, no, I won’t, only you.”

“As you wish. Have at me.”

“I am Hamusuke! Remember the name of the one who killed you and go to the next world, that I say. Give me your name as well, that you should!”

“…I have no name a beast needs to know.”

“Then I will strike you from my memory as a fool with no name, that I will!”

The huge monster charged all at once.

It was incredibly nimble for its size. A lesser warrior would have been overwhelmed by the pressure bearing down on him and been unable to avoid serious injury from the beast’s body check.

But I’m not like those twerps.

Elya drew Hamusuke’s charge to the last moment and then slid to the side without moving his feet.

This was the effect of an improved version of the martial art Contracting Earth, Contracting Earth Revised.

Contracting Earth was usually only used to close a gap between oneself and one’s opponent, but it could shift the user in any direction. It looked rather strange to change position without moving one’s feet, but it was very practical.

Evading with a large movement always resulted in instability. Without that loss of balance, however, it was possible to flow directly into an attack and put one’s weight into it.

“Yaargh!”

He brought his sword down and—

“Guhblergh!”

Hamusuke bounced into him and he went flying.

Its body felt unbelievably hard.

The soft-looking silver pelt was actually as solid as metal. From Elya’s point of view, he’d been hit with a wrecking ball. His consciousness even whited out for a split second.

The moment he hit the floor, he confirmed, practically by instinct, that he could still move all his parts.

He had bruises, but nothing was broken. He was still plenty able to fight.

His mind was nearly overrun by rage that he was lying on the ground and had shamefully taken his opponent’s hit, but the warrior in him scolded himself; now wasn’t the time to think those things.

As he stood up, he simultaneously took note of Hamusuke’s position and pointed his sword to meet the beast’s charge.

Something slimy ran from his nose. He wiped it away with a hand, and as expected, it was blood.

“You vile bitch…”

Hamusuke watched, unmoving, in silence as Elya got to his feet. Perhaps observed is the best word.

They were not the eyes of a beast wondering, Can I eat this? Can I defeat it? but the eyes of a warrior trying to judge how best to fight based on their brief exchange of blows.

I’m the test to see if this beast can develop into a warrior? Me?!

It wasn’t pleasant, but he had to acknowledge that her movements were not those of a mere animal. The previous attack had been a leaping body check upon seeing that he had gotten around her flank. She wasn’t terribly powerful, but the fact that she had been able to respond to the situation had to be due to training.

“I see, that I do… If I keep chipping away at you, I can win with ease, that I can. Oh, but don’t feel bad, no, you should not. I have never met a human who could defeat me, no, I haven’t.”

“Try saying that after you get a load of this! Unlike beasts, warriors have martial arts!”

He had thought he could win with energy to spare, so he hadn’t used them, but he no longer had that leeway.

“Martial arts: Ability Boost! Greater Ability Boost!”

He was proud of these arts, especially Greater Ability Boost; it usually couldn’t be acquired by someone of Elya’s level.

The fact that I could get it proves I’m a prodigy! I really am strong!

He swung his sword. His body felt light; his movements were smooth. His sword moved as if tracing a perfect image.

He smirked. Now it’s my turn.

“Hmm. You’re supposed to take some distance when unsure of your opponent’s strength, that you are…but…as a warrior I must fight, that I must! It can’t be helped, no, it cannot!” Hamusuke closed in walking on two feet. “A close-quarters fight, that it is! Can you handle it? That I ask!”

“Don’t underestimate me, beast.”

As soon as she was in range, he slashed.

At the last moment, Hamusuke used her claws to parry the attack Elya unleashed with his boosted body. Or more accurately, she tried to—because the sword slipped into her foreleg. But it had lost a lot of momentum, so it couldn’t rip into her tough pelt or cut the meat beneath.

Without bringing his katana back, he lunged at Hamusuke’s eyes. Some monsters could repel shabby swords with the protective film over their eyes, and some warriors could repel an amateur’s sword with chi or an aura. But Hamusuke didn’t seem to have any defensive powers like that.

For precisely that reason, Hamusuke couldn’t allow him that attack.

At the same time she spun out of the thrusting blade’s way, her tail went flying at Elya.

He blocked it with his sword. The surprisingly intense impact turned to numbness that spread up his arm. “Kgh!” He could see Hamusuke spinning around once more. In other words, that impact was on its way again.

Elya jumped out of the way. He already had a pretty good idea of how long her tail was. Once it passed him, he could use Contracting Earth Revised to charge.

Just as he thought the tail was about to pass, it abruptly stopped.

“Urk!”

It had been a feint. In the interlude, Hamusuke had taken a different stance and withdrawn her tail at the same time. Having lost the chance to leap at her, Elya grimaced.

Her tail moved in a completely different way from her body. It was less like a mouse’s tail and more like the snake tail of a khimaira; it moved independently.

“So your tail can move on its own?” Overwriting the data in his mind about this magical beast, Hamusuke, Elya leaped at her.

Hamusuke, who had been waiting, intercepted.

Katana crossed claw. The one whose blood sprayed was Elya.

Hamusuke could attack with both paws, while Elya had only one sword, so she had the greater number of strikes.

He was at a disadvantage at close quarters.

He had boosted his physical abilities, but Hamusuke still outclassed him. In that case—

He used Contracting Earth Revised to retreat in one motion.

“Hmm. Hmm, I say.”

Elya took the time before she came after him to raise his sword overhead and bring it down again. “Air Slash!” His slash ripped through the air and raced toward Hamusuke.

She’d hidden her face, and the attack hit her pelt.

The farther it had to fly, the less damage it dealt. It would be difficult to land a fatal blow with it, but—

“Seems like you can’t block that, can you? So there’s the gap between humans and beasts.”

“Hmm, this is trouble…that it is.”

He used Air Slash a few times in succession. Her pelt was tough. It would be hard to break through it. That’s why he aimed at the part of her that seemed least defended—her face.

Hamusuke, pinned, didn’t budge from where she stood. She just covered her face and talked through a small gap. “Wait, that I ask—”

“Are you begging for your life? You really are just a beast after all.”

“No, it—! Don’t bother me, that I say! It’s this thing in my mouth—ah, never mind, no, do not!”

He had no idea what she was talking about.

Well, humans can’t expect to understand a beast’s ramblings… Still, seems like she’s about to charge!

“Ahhh, you’re so annoying, that you really are! Here I come, that I do!”

“C’mon!”

Since Hamusuke didn’t have a method of attacking from a distance, her options were limited. She would probably try to force her way near him. That’s exactly what Elya was hoping for.

It would be hard to finish her with Air Slash, so he didn’t have any way to defeat her except with something more direct. When she ran at him, she would run with her beastly face thrust toward him. He would stop her in her tracks by using a martial art stronger than Air Slash. Then, if he kept pummeling her face at close range, he was sure to win.

Confident in his victory, Elya’s face twisted into a brutal smile, but just then Hamusuke’s tail made a slithering motion.

And then—

“Ugyaaaa!”

The tail, flexible like a whip, struck his shoulder with impossible speed.

The armor over his shoulder shrieked as it dented and crushed his flesh. At the same time, the snapping of his bones reverberated inside his body, and a lightning bolt of pain shot toward his brain.

It was so intense viscous drool dribbled from his mouth as he beat a staggering retreat.

Behind Hamusuke, her tail was weaving around like a snake. It was bizarrely long.

“As I thought, my tail is too strong, that it is. I wanted to finish this at close quarters for that reason, that I did.”

This is bad.

Elya bit back a scream.

If she charged at him while he was in this state, he would lose.

“Y-you guys! What’re you doing standing around like that?! Cast something! Healing! Heal me! Hurry up and cast healing on me, slaves!”

At their master’s order, one of the elves rushed to begin casting a spell.

The pain in his shoulder drained away until it was gone.

“You’re not done yet! Support magic!”

Not only did they boost his physical abilities, his sword was temporarily enchanted, his skin was hardened, his senses were sharpened… Hamusuke looked on as innumerable support spells were cast.

As the many spells took effect on Elya, a sneer appeared on his face once more.

A vast amount of energy coursed through his body.

He’d never lost with this many magic boosts, no matter how immensely powerful his opponent had been.

His sword whooshed as he swung it, moving much faster than usual. Like this, he was confident he could fight with Hamusuke on equal or better footing.

“There’s a basic difference in physical ability between humans and magical beasts, you know! Now I’ve filled the gap!”

“I intended to take all of you at once in the first place, so I don’t mind at all, no, I don’t. Or rather, I too hope this fight will finally get good, that I do.”

“Keep talking!”

Elya rushed forward. I’m going to crush her all at once with this energy filling me up! He wasn’t going to let her give him lip any longer. As he used Contracting Earth Revised, he unleashed Air Slash as a diversion.

“Take this!”

At the same time as his shout, he brought his sword down with all his might. If her pelt was tough, he would just have to hit her harder than it could handle.

The blade he’d swung with his full power…

“Slash, that I use!”

A sharpness from above struck down on his arms.

Something went spinning through the air and crashed to the floor. A metallic clank and a sound like a wet sack dropping echoed out.

Elya couldn’t understand why the two arms that had been holding his sword up until a moment ago had vanished—even though the sprays of blood from their stumps pulsed in time with his heartbeat.

The excruciating pain… His arms, still gripping his sword, on the floor at some distance from him…

Seeing these truths, Elya finally began to grasp reality.

As he staggered away from Hamusuke, he screamed in a shaking voice, “My arrrrrrms! H-h-heal me! Hurry up!”

The elves didn’t move.

In their dull eyes was the dark happiness of those who had been treated cruelly.

“Okay! Success, that it is! I used a martial art, that I did! Now my master will praise me, that he will!”

“Eegh!” Elya emitted a hoarse shriek.

In this world dominated by creatures stronger than humans, adventuring meant living next door to pain.

He had experienced all sorts in his life. He had broken bones, been struck by lightning, burned with fire, frozen with chill, bitten, cut, smashed. Still, he’d never dropped his weapon. Perhaps that was only natural in a world where losing one’s grip on one’s weapon led to death. He had been confident that as long as he had his katana, he could make it out of any situation.

But now that confidence was shattered.

This shock he was experiencing for the first time.

“My arms! Now!”

His blood sprayed and a cold heaviness began to spread from the cut edges.

In response to Elya’s thunderous shouts, the elves just grinned.

Elya had no idea what to call the emotions flooding his heart.

Hamusuke addressed him in a way that could be termed gentle. “I thank you, that I do! I’m not fond of causing suffering, so I’ll end this now, that I will.”

Something whooshed through the air.

A moment later something hit his face. A pain great enough to make him forget about his severed arms coursed through him, and he sensed everything coming apart.

That was the last pain Elya felt.

The corpse with its face half-crushed in fell heavily to the floor.

Hamusuke nodded and withdrew. If she was nearby, the elves probably couldn’t approach the man. They seemed like casters, but maybe one of them would pick up his sword and challenge her. She didn’t want to get in the way of that.

“Now then, would you all also like to—?”

Having taken some distance, Hamusuke looked up and faltered. The elves were laughing and kicking the corpse of the warrior who should have been their friend.

“What’s this? That I ask! An elven burial rite, is it?” she asked but felt it had to be something else. A tinge of joy had appeared in their leaden eyes. They had to be venting their hatred.

“…Well, I don’t know what to do now, no, I don’t.”

Use all the skills you’ve learned so far on the raiders. Show me the fruits of your training. That’s what she’d been told, and that’s how she’d been fighting. But would attacking elves who weren’t even hostile still count as putting her training on display? She at least wanted them to oppose her.

“I’ve heard provocation is effective, that I have…but what to say? That I wonder. I don’t know, no, I don’t. That’s no helping it, no, there is not. I’ll wait for word from my master, that I will. Oh, but—” She turned to the one who was grading her fight. “Master Zaryusu, how did I do? That I ask! A passing grade, is it?”

“Yes. Magnificent. You definitely used a martial art.”

The lizardman teaching her the ways of the warrior nodded, and Hamusuke broke into a smile.

“I’m so happy, that I am. Next I will learn how to wear armor, will I?”

“Yeah, that’ll be next. We’ll start with lighter gear and gradually increase the weight.”

Hamusuke wasn’t able to wear armor, mainly because she just felt so weird when she put it on that she couldn’t move how she wanted. She didn’t have any trouble running around and changing position under normal conditions, but in battle when she tried to wield her tail, she lost her balance and missed her target. That’s why she was learning by watching her lizardman instructor’s example.

“Now I can show my master how much stronger I’ve gotten for him, that I can! I wonder when I’ll be able to call myself a proper warrior, that I do! Warrior Hamusuke, that I am!”

“Hmm… I’d guess in another month or two you’ll be able to call yourself a warrior.”

“…That’s so far away, that it is.”

“Seems pretty quick to me, Hamusuke. Usually it takes a year before you can finally use a martial art! When you think of it that way, it’s so soon.” Zenbel, another lizardman standing next to Zaryusu, chimed in.

“You think so, do you?”

“Yes, that I do. Real battle training and healing wounds, using support magic to battle someone stronger than you… You’ve been through some hellish training, but you’re still learning really fast.”

Hamusuke shuddered, as did the lizardmen. The thought of all the training they’d done was chilling.

“I’d be happy if we could train in ways that didn’t make me think of the word death, that I would…”

“I think fighting right on the edge of living and dying will make you stronger, but… Well, to each his own. Plus, it’d be tragic for a newlywed to die during a workout.”

“Oh, that’s right, you got married, that you did!”

“Yeah. She got pregnant, so…”

“Just the aim I’d expect from an exceptional warrior like you. You did it like what, two or three times?”

Zaryusu stuck his fist into Zenbel. “That’s enough. We have to get back to our exercises. What should we do about those elves?”

“Eh, we can just leave them, that I think.”

One by one the elves who had been punching and kicking their dead owner this whole time plunked down on the floor like something had finally snapped inside them. Hamusuke didn’t sense any will to fight, so she decided that unless she received word from her master or they tried to run away, she would just leave them alone.

Intermission

At the sudden change in airflow just past the tip of his snout, the Platinum Dragonlord, Zeyndelux Vaishion, awoke from his light slumber.

Surprise was the emotion that occupied his awakened mind, or one could just as easily call it shock.

A dragon’s keen perception far surpassed that of a human’s. Even if someone was invisible or disguised with an illusion, a dragon could immediately sense their presence from a surprisingly long distance—even while asleep.

And an ordinary dragon’s faculties could not even compare with his; he was a dragonlord. For someone to approach this near to him meant their abilities had to be unparalleled.

Even he, in all his long life, had only met a handful of people at that level. The first was a dragonlord like him. The second was no longer of this world: Ijaniya, an assassin and one of the Thirteen Heroes. And then—

Sensing the presence of the one who came to mind next, Zeyndelux—Zey—frowned as he slowly opened his eyes.

Dragon eyes could see in the dark as if it were midday.

Standing grandly in the direction from which he felt the presence was an old woman with an elegant sword at her hip. A smile reserved for someone who’d pulled off the innocent prank of getting this far without being detected by the dragon’s keen senses was spread across her wrinkled face.

“Long time no see.”

Zey eyed the old woman without responding.

Her hair, gone completely white, indicated what a long time she’d been alive. But something about her face was lively, like a mischievous child’s.

Old age had made her thin and frail, but inside she was still the same.

As Zey was comparing her to the image of her in his mind, her eyebrows suddenly tilted to a dangerous angle.

“What? Has my friend forgotten how to say hello? Good grief, do dragons go senile, too?”

Zey bared his fangs and chuckled kindly. “Sorry. I was overcome with emotion at meeting my old friend. I couldn’t get the words out.” His voice was far gentler than one would imagine, given his size.

The old woman’s response was sarcastic as he expected. “Friend, hmm? My friend was inside that empty suit of armor… It looks pretty beat up.”

When Zey had adventured with the old woman and her friends, he’d been manipulating a hollow suit of armor from afar. When he revealed the truth, she was furious that he’d tricked her. She still held a grudge about it and needled him now and then to this day.

He thought it was about time for her to forgive and forget, but at the same time, he enjoyed their familiar banter.

Grinning at the same old back-and-forth, he looked at her fingers. “Hmm? Seems like the ring is missing. What happened to it? I don’t think there’s anyone capable of stealing it from you…but that item contains power beyond the realm of human capability. I don’t want it to fall into the wrong hands. I especially wouldn’t want the Slane Theocracy’s Black Scripture to get it…”

“Are you trying to change the subject? But good eye. I guess that’s a dragon’s perceptiveness when it comes to treasure, hmm? Well, it’s fine… I gave it to a youngster. Rest easy.”

This wasn’t the kind of item one could give away lightly.

It had been created with wild magic. These days magic was tainted and warped, so it would be nearly impossible to produce a similar item. As one of the few stewards of wild magic left, he wanted to ask where the ring was.

But he trusted his friend.

“I see. Well, if it’s what you decided, then it’s probably all right… By the way, I heard the rumors. You’ve been adventuring? Is that why you’re here?”

“Certainly not! I just came to visit as a friend. Besides, I retired from adventuring. Don’t make this old lady work anymore. I passed my role on to the crybaby.”

“The crybaby?” Zey pondered who it could be for a moment, and then it hit him. “You mean…her?”

The old lady grinned when she realized who he meant from the hint of emotion in his voice. “Yes, the little Imbern girl.”

“Ahh.” He was astonished. “You’re probably the only one who can get away with calling her that.”

“You think so? I’m sure you could even more than me. After all, she and I are about the same age. You’re older, right?”

“Well, yes, but… Still, I can’t believe she agreed to be an adventurer! How did you get her to do it?”

“Ha. She was whining, so I told her if I beat her she had to do whatever I said. Then I socked it to her!” She cackled as if amused to her very core.

“…You’re about the only human who can defeat her.” Zey spoke in a voice that in a human would have indicated a cold sweat and shook his head. He was recalling the face of another old comrade, one with whom he’d fought against the evil spirits; she had performed particularly well in the battle against the bug spirits.

“Well, my friends helped. Plus, knowing undead means knowing how to defeat them. Even if she can’t win with her abilities, she can turn the tables. Still, the crybaby may be strong, but there’s always someone stronger. You, for instance, could probably defeat her pretty easily. If you weren’t restrained, you’d be the most powerful being in the world.”

The old woman shifted her eyes to the silver suit of armor. She’d probably expected a lighthearted response, but Zey’s was more heavy.

“Oh, I don’t know. The power that sullies the world might be stirring again.”

There was a hole in the right shoulder of the armor like a spear had pierced it.

“So the aftershock from a hundred years ago has come? This time it won’t be someone on the world’s side, like our leader?”

“It’s possible it was just an unlucky encounter, but the true nature of that vampire has to be right alongside evil. Still, I thought it seemed like the time had come, but I can’t decide if suddenly running into it was bad luck, or if we are lucky for having confirmed its existence.”

“Two sides of the same coin. You can choose whichever you like. So I asked you once before, but you can’t enlist the other dragonlords to help?”

“The answer is the same. Probably not. The only ones still alive in this world are ones who didn’t fight in the battle with the Eight Kings of Avarice. I highly doubt guys like the Heavenly Dragonlord, just flying around all the time, or the Deep Darkness Dragonlord, holed up in his huge underground cave doing who knows what, would lend me their strength.”

“Yeah. But there are ones like the Brightness Dragonlord who had children with humans. If you tried talking to them, something might work out.”

“Maybe…but I don’t know. Personally I think asking for her cooperation is our best bet—the one he told us about who is sleeping on the deepest level of the city in the sea.”

“Waiting in her dreams, was it? If our leader had been able to leave behind all his knowledge, we would probably have less trouble. He really died too soon.”

“There was nothing we could have done. Even he…I think it was a shock to kill the player he’d come this far with. I can understand refusing revival. You were shocked, too, weren’t you, Ligritte?”

The old woman got a faraway look in her eyes and sadly nodded her head. “Well…yeah. Actually…yeah.”

“Ligritte, I’m sorry because I know you’ve quit being an adventurer and all, but can I ask a favor of you?”

“What might that be? I have an idea, but let’s hear it.”

Zey was looking at a sword. Its shape wasn’t conducive to slashing, but its edge was peerlessly sharp; nothing anywhere close could be made with current magic.

That sword—one of the Eight Weapons left behind by the Eight Kings of Avarice—was the reason Zey couldn’t leave this place.

“It’s something I’ve been doing up till now, but I want you to help me. I want you to collect information about that sword, an item on par with a Guild Weapon, as well as other special Yggdrasil items, like the Reinforcing Armor the kingdom adamantite-rank adventurer team Drops of Red possesses…”