“Okay, now that Enri’s here, let’s get out of here!”
The Emmott family was in a pretty bad position. They didn’t want Enri to come home to an empty house, so they’d missed their opportunity to escape. The danger must already be closing in…
That fear soon became reality.
As the four of them were just about to make a run for it, a shadow appeared in the front entryway. Standing there with the sun at his back was a knight in full armor, the arms of the Baharuth Empire emblazoned on his breastplate. In his hand was a naked blade—a longsword.
The Baharuth Empire occasionally invaded its neighbor, the Re-Estize Kingdom, but usually the fighting was centered around the fortress city of E-Rantel; the enemy had never made it as far as Carne.
But now the village’s peace had been shattered.
From the icy stare coming through the gap in the close helmet, Enri could sense that they were being counted. She hated the feeling of his eyes moving over them.
A squeak from his metal gauntlet announced that he had tightened his grip on the sword. He moved into the house—
“Yaaargh!”
“Urgh!”
Enri’s father tackled the knight, and the pair of them tumbled out the front door.
“Go! Hurry!”
“You bastard!”
Her father’s face was lightly smeared with blood. He must have cut himself when he rushed the knight. The two of them thrashed around on the ground, her father struggling to keep the knight’s dagger at bay, the knight struggling to keep her father’s knife at bay.
Seeing a family member’s blood right before her eyes made Enri’s mind go completely blank. Should I try to help him or escape?
“Enri! Nemu!” The shout brought her back to reality. Her mother, though anguished, was shaking her head.
Enri took her sister’s hand and started to run. Hesitation and guilt made her reluctant, but she had to just run as fast as she could to the forest.
The whinnies and screams of horses, angry voices, the clanging of metal, and…the smell of something burning. From all over the village, the sensations bombarded her eyes, ears, and nose. Where is that coming from? She was frantic to know even as she ran. In open areas, she moved in a half crouch, trying to stay in the shadows of houses.
Fear that made her blood run cold. The exertion of running wasn’t the only reason her heart was pounding. The only thing keeping her moving was the little hand clasped in hers.
My sister’s life…
Her mother, running a few paces ahead, was just turning a corner when she suddenly stiffened and shrank back. She motioned with a hand behind her back to run the other way!
When Enri realized why, she bit her lip to hold back a sob.
She squeezed her sister’s hand and ran to get as far away as they could.
She didn’t want to see what was going to happen next.
4
“Is something wrong, Lord Momonga?” Albedo repeated her question.
Momonga wasn’t sure how to answer. This series of mysterious events had short-circuited his brain.
“Please excuse me.” Momonga gazed at her absentmindedly as she got up and came up close to him. “Is something the matter?” She leaned in with her beautiful face. A faint but wonderful scent tickled Momonga’s nostrils. Perhaps kick-started by the fragrance, his thoughts began to return to him.
“No, I’m all right, thank y—It’s nothing.” He lacked the particular naïveté required to speak too terribly politely toward a mannequin, but as soon as she had spoken to him, he felt compelled to answer. There was something undeniably human about the way she spoke and moved.
The situation he and Albedo were in was way off, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. He did his utmost to suppress the confusion and amazement that such a vague understanding generated, but he was just a normal guy—it didn’t seem possible. Right as he was about to scream, he remembered the words of one of his guildmates: “Panic breeds failure. One must always have a composed, rational state of mind. Calm your heart and broaden your outlook. Don’t let your thoughts take you prisoner. Keep your mind quick, Momonga.”
With that remembrance, his calm came flooding back to him. He mentally gave his thanks to the man known as the guild’s Kongming, Squishy Moe.
“Are you all right?” Albedo asked, awfully close to him. She’d tilted her head adorably and leaned in so far that their breaths were overlapping. With this gorgeous girl in his face, the calm Momonga had just regained threatened to fly straight back out the window.
“The…GM call isn’t working.” Swallowed up by Albedo’s glistening pupils, he found himself consulting with an NPC.
A member of the opposite sex had never approached Momonga with this look in her eyes before, especially with such a lack of propriety. He knew it was just an NPC someone had made, but the flow of her expressions was so natural it was unsettling.
But somehow he noticed those feelings settling down already, as if they were being held back. The lack of wider emotional fluctuation, however, gave him a touch of anxiety. He had thought it was due to his former mate’s words, but is that really it?
Momonga shook his head. Now wasn’t the time.
“…Please forgive me. I am so ignorant I fear I am unable to answer your question regarding this ‘GM call’ you speak of. Nothing would make me happier than a chance to clear myself of the disgrace of failing your expectations. Your wish is my command…”
…We’re having a conversation. No doubt about it. The realization assailed his entire body with a petrifying amazement. Impossible… This can’t be happening.
An NPC was talking. Well, there were macros that allowed them to do that. Players had been passing around data for battle cries and cheers, etc. Still, conversation was impossible. Even just a minute ago, Sebas and the maids wouldn’t respond to anything that wasn’t a simple command phrase.
So how is this happening? Is Albedo just special?
He motioned for her to step back and glimpsed a flicker of reluctance as he looked away to Sebas and the maids, who still had their heads bowed.
“Sebas! Maids!”
“My lord!” They answered in magnificent unison, raising their heads in a slick motion.
“Come to the foot of the throne.”
“Yes, sir.” Their voices aligned again, and they sprang to their feet. The group walked together with beautiful posture to the bottom of the steps leading to the throne before each dropping again to one knee and bowing.
From this exchange, Momonga learned two things. First, although he had purposely avoided using command phrases, they could understand his intentions and carry them out. Second, Albedo was not the only one who could talk. At the very least, something weird is going on with all the NPCs in the Throne Room.
As he was reflecting on these things, he had the same feeling as before that something was off about both Albedo and himself. Wanting to understand it, he scrutinized her.
“Is everything all right? Have I done something wrong?”
“Agh!” When he recognized the root of the incongruity, a sound that was neither word, gasp, nor choking noise escaped his lips.
It was the changing expressions. Her lips were moving, and he could hear her words.
Flustered, he brought his fingers to his own lips. And spoke. “Im…po…”
My jaw is moving…
In the world of a DMMO-RPG, that went against all common sense. Mouths moving and words coming out?! Expression graphics were fixed; they didn’t move. Otherwise why would the developers have made emoticons?
Plus, Momonga’s face was a skull—he didn’t have a tongue or a throat. Looking down at his hands, there was no flesh and the bones weren’t even anatomically correct. Continuing along the same lines, he probably didn’t have any internal organs, not to mention lungs. So why could he talk?
“Impossible…” He felt the internal logic he had built up slowly over time begin to crumble away—and an eq
uivalent panic replace it.
He wanted to scream but held it in. As expected, the heat in his chest was abruptly soothed by a wave of calm.
Momonga pounded the throne’s armrest. As he thought, the number showing damage didn’t pop up.
“What should I do? What makes the most sense…?” He was in an incomprehensible situation, but venting wouldn’t get him anywhere. First, he needed information. “Sebas!”
The expression on Sebas’s face as he lifted his head was earnestness incarnate. He looked like he was really alive.
I can give him an order, right? I’m not sure what’s going on, but I can assume the NPCs in the Tomb are loyal to me, right? Actually, I don’t even know if these are our NPCs…
Countless questions, and the anxiety that went with them, arose in his mind, but Momonga tuned it all out. In any case, there was no one better to send out for reconnaissance than Sebas. He did glance momentarily at Albedo, who was waiting off to the side, but he made up his mind to give the order to Sebas.
He imagined what executives at work were like when directing regular employees and tried to act like he was one of them. “Leave the Tomb, and confirm our surroundings within a half-mile radius. If there are any intelligent life-forms, negotiate to bring them here on amicable terms. You can give them practically whatever they request in return. Avoid combat to the extent possible.”
“Understood, Lord Momonga. I will leave without delay.”
In Yggdrasil, it was definitely not possible to take NPCs who were built to protect a base and send them outside, but here it was. Well, I won’t know for sure until he actually makes it outside, but…
“Take one member of the Pleiades with you. If you’re attacked, have her retreat immediately to bring back any information you have.” With that, Momonga had made at least one move.
He let go of the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown. It didn’t clatter to the ground, but instead hung in the air as if someone were holding it. It was against the laws of physics, but it was just like the game. In Yggdrasil, it wasn’t uncommon for items to float in the air when one let go of them.
The staff’s aura of anguished faces twisted around his hand as if reluctant to dissipate, but Momonga calmly ignored it. Not that he was…used to it, but that sort of macro wasn’t so strange; he shook his wrist to get rid of it.
Crossing his arms, he thought what his next move should be. I suppose… “I need to contact the admins.” The administration was sure to be the most informed of anyone about this abnormal situation. The problem was how to reach them. Usually a shout or GM call would work, but if they didn’t now…
“A message maybe?”
There was one magic spell that was a way to contact people. It could only be used in specific places and situations, but it seemed like it would be effective now. The only problem was that it was usually used to communicate between players; he wasn’t sure if it would work to contact a GM. He didn’t even have any guarantee that magic in general would work normally in this crisis.
“But…” He had to find out.
Momonga was a level-100 magic user. If he couldn’t use magic, his area of operations and information-gathering powers would be severely limited, not to mention his combat strength. Right now he had no idea what the situation was, so he needed to confirm as soon as possible whether or not he could use magic.
In that case, I need to go somewhere I can test it out… He looked out over the Throne Room and shook his head. This was an emergency, but he didn’t want to disturb this room’s sublime tranquility for magic experiments. But then where? he thought and came up with an ideal location.
It was also necessary to test the extent of his influence. He had to see whether he had maintained his authority as guild master. So far everyone he had met was loyal to him, but there were several NPCs in the Great Tomb of Nazarick at his level. He needed to make sure the rest of them were still loyal, too.
But… He looked down at Sebas and the maids who were still on one knee and then at Albedo beside him. What is it? her faint smile seemed to say. She was beautiful, but the shadows cast by her horns made it seem like something was hidden behind her smile. It made Momonga nervous.
Is the loyalty they have now inviolable and unchanging? In the real world, a boss who makes stupid moves all the time loses support. Does it work the same way here, or is it once faithful, always faithful?
If I suppose their loyalty could change, how do I maintain it?
By giving them rewards? The treasury contained vast riches. It would pain him to lay a hand on the items his former guildmates had left, but if it was to keep Ainz Ooal Gown going through this crisis, they would forgive him, wouldn’t they? Then, of course, he didn’t have any idea how much he should pay…
Or displaying the excellence you’d expect of a ruler? What constituted excellence, however, was unclear. He had the feeling things would work out if he just kept maintaining the dungeon.
Or… “Maybe through power?” The Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown flew automatically into his outstretched hand. “Overwhelming power?” The staff’s seven jewels began to sparkle, as if appealing for their vast magical power to be used. “Well, I guess I’ll think about it later.”
He let go of the staff. It swayed in the air for a moment and then clattered to the floor like someone going to bed in a huff.
Anyhow, it seemed like if he acted like he was in charge, he was unlikely to meet hostility anytime soon. It’s hard for animals to turn their fangs on one who doesn’t show any weaknesses, and the same thing went for humans.
Momonga raised his voice. “Pleiades! All of you besides the one going with Sebas, go up to the ninth level and be on the lookout for any raiders coming down from eight.”
“Yes, Lord Momonga.” The maids behind Sebas complied.
“Now go immediately.”
“Understood, Lord and Master,” their voices echoed. Sebas and the combat maids all paid their respects to Momonga, stood at once, and set off.
The huge door opened and then closed after them.
I’m so glad they didn’t say no or something. Relieved, he turned to the last remaining NPC—Albedo was still waiting beside him.
“Now, then, Lord Momonga. What may I do for you?” she asked with a gentle smile.
“Oh, uh…right…” Momonga leaned out of the throne to pick up his staff. “Come here.”
“Yes, sir!” She sounded overjoyed and sidled right up. Momonga worried about her wand and the black sphere floating on the end of it for just a moment, but decided to forget about it. She was closer than last time, all but clinging to him.
She smells so good—but what am I thinking? The thought popped up again, but he promptly dismissed it. He didn’t have time for that sort of nonsense now.
Momonga reached out and touched her hand.
“…Ngh.”
“Hm?”
The look on Albedo’s face said she was in pain. He whipped his hand away as if he’d been electrocuted.
I wonder what’s wrong. Did I creep her out?
Mixed in with the numerous sad memories (like having cashiers drop change into his hand from above to avoid accidentally touching him) flitting across his mind, he found the answer.
“…Ohhhh.”
An overlord was a higher rank of elder lich, and one of the special abilities an elder lich could acquire by leveling up was the dealing of damage by touch—normally as an attack. Maybe that’s it?
But even if that was the case, there were still questions remaining.
In Yggdrasil, the system would judge mobs and NPCs within the Great Tomb of Nazarick as belonging to Ainz Ooal Gown. Friendly fire for guild members was always off so allies couldn’t harm one another. So did that mean she didn’t belong to the guild? Or that friendly fire had been turned on?
The latter is a distinct possibility, Momonga decided and said to Albedo, “Sorry, I forgot to turn off Negative Touch.”
“Never you mind, Lord Momonga. That level of damage wasn
’t even damage. Besides, I would suffer any agony for you… Eek!”
“Oh, uh…huh… I see. But I’m sorry,” Momonga stammered, not knowing how to act toward Albedo as she made that cute little shriek and covered her blushing cheeks with her hands.
But it did seem like the issue had been damage from Negative Touch.
Averting his eyes from Albedo, who was going on about a virgin’s pain, Momonga tried to think how to temporarily turn off a passive power—and suddenly, it dawned on him: Using any of an overlord’s various powers was now as natural an act as breathing. He found himself laughing in spite of himself at what an extraordinary situation he was in. After all the strange things that had happened so far, it didn’t even surprise him. Adaptability is a terrifying thing.
“I’m going to touch you.”
“Oh…!”
After turning off the ability, he reached out and touched her hand. Countless thoughts came up—how delicate it was, how white—but Momonga dismissed any that stemmed from his being male. What he wanted to know was if she had a pulse.
She does.
The beat was a steady ba-bum, ba-bum. It would be only natural for a living thing.
Yeah, for a living thing…
Momonga took his hand away and looked at his own wrist. There was no skin, flesh, or anything besides a pure white bone. He had no blood vessels, so of course he had no pulse. That’s right, an overlord was undead—a being who had transcended death. Of course he wouldn’t have a pulse.
He looked up at Albedo. He could see himself in her glistening pupils. Her cheeks were awfully flushed—her body temperature was probably skyrocketing. Noting these changes in her was enough to shake him up.
“…What’s going on?”
This is an NPC—just some data, right? What kind of AI can make data look like it’s actually alive? It’s practically as if Yggdrasil has become reality…
That’s impossible.
Momonga shook his head. It can’t be anything as crazy as that. But once the idea had lodged in his mind, it wouldn’t come unstuck so easily. Feeling vaguely uncomfortable about the changes he was noticing in Albedo, he hesitated about what to do next.
The Undead King Page 4