His next move would be his last. If I check this last thing, all of my hunches will turn to convictions. The balance that shows whether this is reality or not will swing one way or the other. So I have to do it! I wouldn’t be surprised if she attacked me with that weapon she’s holding…but even so…
“Albedo… Can I touch your ch-chest?”
“Huh?”
The atmosphere froze solid. Albedo blinked, bewildered. The moment he said it, Momonga felt he might die of embarrassment.
Sure, he’d had no choice, but what kind of thing was that to say to a lady? He had the urge to howl that he was the worst person in existence. I’ve abused my power in order to sexually harass a woman—I really am the worst.
But I can’t help it. Yeah. It has to be done.
He forcefully talked himself down and regained his mental equilibrium rather quickly, then mustered all of his coercive power as a superior. “You don’t meow—Mind, do you?”
Utter failure.
His timid words caused Albedo to beam as if she were the sun making all the flowers bloom. “Of course, Lord Momonga! Please have your way with me.” She puffed out her chest and her substantial breasts were thrust into Momonga’s face. If he had had the ability to gulp, he would have surely done so several times.
Her breasts were giving her dress great lift, and he was about to touch them.
On the one hand, Momonga was feeling oddly nervous and shaken, but some corner of his brain was being calmly and objectively self-observant. He started to feel incredibly stupid. Why is this the test I thought of, and why am I actually doing it?
For some reason when he peeked at Albedo, she stuck her chest out even more as if to say, Go ahead, her eyes twinkling.
Was Momonga aroused or ashamed? He willed his hand to stop shaking, made up his mind, and reached out.
Under the dress, he felt something a bit rigid, but beneath that he could feel something soft.
“Ahh… Ngh…” Amid Albedo’s sticky moaning, Momonga got the information he was after.
Assuming he was still sane, Momonga had two hypotheses for explaining the current situation.
One was the possibility of a new DMMO-RPG. In other words, at the same time Yggdrasil had shut down, Yggdrasil II had started up. But that didn’t seem terribly plausible after what he’d just experienced.
In Yggdrasil, doing anything rated R was strictly forbidden. Even PG-13 could be considered out of line in some cases. Violators were dealt with severely: Their names were posted to the list of abusers on the game’s website and their accounts were suspended. That’s because if a log of it were made public, the operators could find themselves afoul of the adult entertainment business laws. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t have surprised Momonga if what he’d just done had been against the rules. If he was still in a game world, there should have been some measure in place to prevent it. In the first place, if the GM and admins were monitoring, they would have tried to stop him, but there was no sign of that.
Additionally, the cyber-tech laws that governed DMMO-RPGs viewed forcible, nonconsensual participation in a game as kidnapping for ransom. If someone were forced to be a test player, it would be immediately exposed. The inability to force quit would probably be seen as illegal confinement, too.
If that was what was going on, the game’s proprietary console had to keep a week’s worth of records by law, so exposing it would be easy enough. When he didn’t show up for work, someone would probably come over to check on him, and once the police investigated the console, that would clear things up.
But was there really a company stupid enough to commit a crime so easy to get caught for in an organization-wide way? Of course, if they said, “It’s an early demo version of Yggdrasil II,” or “We just released a patch,” there was a gray zone, but he couldn’t believe it would be worth it to the developers or admins to take that kind of risk.
So there had to be something at work besides the developers’ intentions. In that case, he needed to make a fundamental change in the way he was thinking or he wouldn’t get anywhere. The problem was that how he should think was unclear. There was one other possibility…
That the fantasy world had become the real world…
Impossible. He promptly rejected the idea. There was no way something so outrageous—so illogical—could be true. On the other hand, the longer this went on, the more he wondered if it might actually be the case. He remembered the fragrance coming off Albedo earlier.
The senses of taste and smell were altogether banned from fantasy worlds by the cyber-tech laws. Yggdrasil had a system for eating and drinking, but anything players consumed only affected their in-game stats. Even touch was regulated to some extent. This was all so that the game couldn’t be mistaken for the real world. As a result of all the limitations, fantasy worlds featuring sex hadn’t really caught on.
But here he could smell.
The reality of that hit Momonga so hard it completely blew away all his What about work tomorrow? and What if I can’t get out of here? type of worries.
“If this weren’t reality… Just in terms of the bandwidth that would be required to run this fantasy, it’d be impossible…”
His mouth was bone-dry, but he swallowed anyway. Even if he couldn’t understand it, his mind had already accepted it.
Finally, he let his hand fall limply from Albedo’s full chest. He felt he’d been groping her a bit longer than necessary, but he told himself it was something he had to do for confirmation. It certainly wasn’t because she was so soft he couldn’t take his hand away… At least, probably not.
“Sorry, Albedo.”
“Ahhh…” She exhaled hotly, and he could feel why her cheeks had turned so red. Then, she said, looking slightly askance, “So here it is, my first time.”
“Huh?!” Momonga let out a confused yelp in spite of himself. It took him a moment to understand what she was saying. “First time”? For what? And what’s with that look on her face?!
“What shall I do with my clothes?”
“…What?”
“Would you like me to take them off myself? Or did you want to do it? If I keep them on, um, they might get dirty… Oh, but if my lord prefers it that way, I have no objections.”
Finally her words sank in. Actually, Momonga wondered if he even had any brain left for them to sink into. Once he understood where all this was coming from, it grated on him. “Stop. Stop it, Albedo.”
“Hm? Yes, sir.”
“Right now we can’t… Er, we don’t have time to be doing such things.”
“M-my humble apologies! I shouldn’t have prioritized desire when we’re having some sort of emergency.” She jumped away from him and went to prostrate herself, but Momonga put out a hand to stop her.
“You’re fine. It was my fault. All is forgiven, Albedo. More importantly…I have orders for you.”
“Anything you wish, my lord.”
“Contact the floor guardians and tell them to gather at the Amphitheatrum in the sixth level one hour from now. I will let Aura and Mare know myself, so there is no need to contact them.”
“Understood. To repeat, you would like me to contact all the floor guardians besides those of the sixth level and tell them to meet in the sixth level’s Amphitheatrum one hour from now.”
“Right. Now go.”
“My lord.” Albedo turned to leave the Throne Room with slightly quickened steps.
Watching her go, Momonga heaved a tired sigh, and once she had left, he let out an agonized moan. “…What the hell. It was just a stupid joke. If I’d have known this would happen, I wouldn’t have done it. Have… Have I defiled the NPC that Tabula created…?” He could think of only one reason Albedo would react to him in that way: the text he’d edited into her bio, “And she’s in love with Momonga.” It had to be connected to that.
“Ahhh, crap!” he groaned.
Tabula Smaragdina had put his all into filling that blank canvas with Albedo’s bac
kstory. Then, Momonga condescendingly painted over it for his own selfish reasons, and now this was the result. He felt like he’d vandalized a masterpiece.
But he had to put that issue aside for now. Still wincing—though it wasn’t obvious, given that his face was a skull—he stood up from the throne. He told himself he could figure that problem out after taking care of the more urgent tasks.
Chapter 2 | The Floor Guardians
1
“Return, demons of Lemegeton!”
At Momonga’s command, the ultrarare ore golems returned to their seats and resumed their postures of vigilance on lighter feet than one would expect for their builds.
The first thing Momonga had done upon resigning himself to officially wondering whether his fantasy world had indeed become the real one was to guarantee his safety. The NPCs he had met a moment ago all submitted to him, but that didn’t mean the ones he would meet next would. Even if they did prove to be allies, there was no telling what dangers might lie ahead. His survival could very well depend on whether or not the Tomb’s facilities, golems, items, magic, etc., all functioned as in the game or not, which made confirmation of those things his most urgent priority.
“That should be good for now,” Momonga said to himself out of relief as he surveyed the golems. He’d ordered them not to take commands from anyone else, so in the worst-case scenario of an NPC rebellion, he would at least have one way to protect himself. Satisfied with the robust figures of the golems, he looked down at his own finger bones.
There were nine rings on his ten fingers; the only one that didn’t have one was his left ring finger. In Yggdrasil, it was normally only possible to wear one ring per hand, but by purchasing an expensive cash store item with a permanent effect, Momonga had gained the ability to wear them on all ten, as well as use all the powers they contained. Not that that made him very special—if a player prioritized being strong, buying that item was a no-brainer.
The ring Momonga was looking at now bore the same crest that was embroidered on the scarlet tapestry hanging behind the throne. It was a Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown, a magic item that every member of the guild possessed; he wore his on his right ring finger.
He could use all the powers of ten rings, but he’d had to choose which ones when he used the item that allowed him to equip that many. It was impossible to swap after the fact. Compared to his other rings (including the one he wasn’t wearing, stored in the treasury), this one’s power was pretty basic, but he wanted it at the ready, since, in certain circumstances, he used it far more than any of the others.
The Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown let its wearer teleport freely to almost any named room within the Great Tomb of Nazarick. It was even possible to teleport in from outside. The Tomb blocked teleportation magic except for in designated areas, so there was no more useful way to get around. There weren’t very many places, save the Throne Room and the members’ individual rooms, that couldn’t be teleported to. Without this ring, however, there was no way to get to the treasury. So it wasn’t something he would want to be without.
Momonga exhaled deeply. He was about to exercise the ring’s power, but he wasn’t sure what would happen. Would it work as expected? He was anxious but had to know.
He unleashed the power and his vision went dark, like he’d blinked.
The scenery changed—now he was in a dimly lit passage. The end was blocked by a barred gate. White artificial light came in through the gaps.
“Success…,” he murmured, relieved that he’d been able to teleport. He set off walking down the broad, high-ceilinged passage toward the gate. The stone floor caused his footsteps to reverberate loudly. Flickering torchlight sent shadows dancing along the walls, making it seem like there was more than one of him.
As he neared the gate, his nostrils, which should have just been holes leading to nowhere, were invaded by scent. He stopped to breathe in and out. A pungent green odor and the scent of earth—this was the smell of deep forest.
Having his nose working again, like it had before with Albedo—even though it should have been impossible in the game’s fantasy world—made Momonga feel even more strongly that this place was now reality.
But with no lungs and no respiratory tract, how am I even breathing? He racked his brains, but soon realized trying to reason the problem out was ridiculous and abandoned the idea.
When he got close enough, the gate drew quickly up into the ceiling like a well-timed automatic door. Passing beneath, Momonga saw the Colosseum, with its multiple levels of spectator seating encircling its central arena. It was an oval of 615 by 510 feet, 157 feet high, identical to the Colosseum built in Rome during the imperial period. Continual Light was cast in various locations, throwing enough white light that he could look around the area and see as if it were high noon. There were too many seats to count, and in them, a great many clods of “dirt”—no sign of movement from the golems.
This place was called the Amphitheatrum. The actors were captured raiders, the audience was made up of golems, and in the VIP seating would be the members of Ainz Ooal Gown. What was on the program? A slaughter, of course. With the exception of the 1,500 in that huge raid, every intruder, no matter how strong, had met their end here.
Momonga walked into the center of the arena gazing up at the pitch-black night sky. If there hadn’t been any light, he probably would have been able to see the stars.
Of course, this was the sixth level of the Great Tomb of Nazarick. Being underground, the sky hanging overhead was a false one. But it was made with quite a lot of data, so it changed with the passage of time, and there was even an accurately arcing sun that rose and set. Was the reason that even this fake sky could take the weight off Momonga’s chest and relax him because under all the graphics he was still human? Maybe also because it was programmed according to the particularities of a former guild member. He wished he could just stay and take it easy, but the situation didn’t allow that.
Momonga glanced around. They’re not here. The twins should be managing this place, but… Just then he felt someone looking at him.
“Yaaa!” At the same time the shout sounded, a figure hopped down from the VIP seating. That was the equivalent of six stories up, but the figure flipped in midair and made a featherlight landing. It wasn’t due to magic, but simply great physical technique. Having absorbed the full shock of the landing by just bending its legs, the figure flashed a proud grin and made peace signs with both hands. “Victory!”
It was a child of perhaps ten who had jumped down. The most apt descriptor for that smile was “radiant like the sun.” She had that kind of androgynous cuteness only children have.
Her golden hair reflected light in a way that made it look almost like she had a halo. Her eyes, bright like a puppy’s, were two different colors—forest green and ocean blue. As a dark elf, a relative of the elf race, her ears were long and pointed, her skin tan.
She wore fitted, dark red dragon scale light armor, top and bottom, over a layer of basic leather protective gear. On top of that, she sported a white vest with golden threading, featuring the crest of Ainz Ooal Gown on the chest, and white pants to match. A big golden acorn hung from her neck. Her hands were protected by gloves with magic metal plates on the backs of the palms. Whips were bundled at her waist and right shoulder, and across her back, she carried a bow with peculiar decorations on the grip, handle, and limbs.
“Oh, it’s Aura.” Momonga murmured her name in recognition. Aura Bella Fiora was one of the guardians of the sixth level, a beast tamer-ranger who could employ fantastical and magical creatures.
She came running toward him with short steps that somehow carried her crazily fast, like an animal running flat out. She closed the distance in an instant and put the brakes on. Her sporty shoes inlaid on top with scarletite sent up a cloud of dust as they scraped along the ground. If she had calculated it out so that not a speck would reach Momonga, she’d done a brilliant job.
“Phew.” She wiped her forehead even th
ough she wasn’t sweating and smiled like a puppy who wanted to play. Then she greeted Momonga in that ever so slightly too-loud voice that only children have: “Welcome to the floor I guard, Lord Momonga!” Compared to Sebas and Albedo she was less deferential and more familiar, but that was actually more comfortable for Momonga. He didn’t have much experience with all of this, so being overly revered only made it harder to know how to act.
He wasn’t getting any hostility from Aura’s ear-to-ear grin, and Sense Enemy didn’t pick up anything, either. His emergency plan had been to attack with full power and promptly retreat, but it seemed like that would be unnecessary. “Thanks. I thought I’d come bother you for a bit.”
“What are you talking about? You are the master of the Great Tomb of Nazarick—its absolute ruler! No one would ever feel bothered to receive a visit from you, Lord Momonga!”
“Oh, hm… By the way, I see that you’re here, Aura, but…?”
As if taking a cue, Aura turned on her heel, glared up at the VIP seats, and shouted, “Hurry up, c’mon! Lord Momonga is here! You’re being rude!”
Up in the darkness of the VIP seats, Momonga saw something bouncing up and down in a fidgety way. “Oh, Mare’s over there, huh?”
“Yes, Lord Momonga, he is. He’s such a wimp… Get down here!”
A weak little voice replied. In fact, it was a wonder they could even hear it, considering their distance from the VIP seats, but it was made possible by the magical necklace Aura had equipped.
“I-I… Sis, there’s n-no way…”
Aura sighed, exasperated. “Oh, uh, Lord Momonga, he’s just a bit of a coward. He’s not being rude on purpose.”
“Of course. I know that, Aura. I’ve never for a moment doubted your loyalty to me.” Momonga nodded and gave a kind answer to put her at ease. Adults need to know their inner feelings as well as what their outward-facing stance would be. Sometimes it was necessary to tell a little lie.
Aura seemed relieved, but a moment later she turned in anger to the figure up in the VIP seats. “Our elite lord has graced us with his presence, and one of the floor guardians can’t even come out to meet him?! That’s the worst and you know it! If you don’t have the courage to move your own butt, we’re gonna try it with my foot next!”
The Undead King Page 5