Crusch let herself be drawn in close and rested her head on his shoulder.
“Wanna go?”
“Yes…” She hesitated a moment and then added, “…dear.”
The two lizardmen huddled together and disappeared into the party.
Chapter 4 | The Opening Act of Despair
1
Cocytus’s footsteps fell heavily on his way to the Throne Room. As if his mood had infected the minions following him, their steps were also dark and weighty.
Their mood was appropriate after suffering defeat at the hands of the lizardmen. Cocytus had commanded the shining army of Nazarick, but all he had reaped was loss and ignominy.
Certainly Cocytus thought highly of the lizardmen. Created to be a samurai—no, to be a warrior—he was inclined to respect skilled fighters.
But those were two different things.
There was no way a Nazarick defeat would be forgiven. And this was no happenstance defensive skirmish—it was their first military expedition. Anyone would be displeased if that glorious first battle was met with failure.
Of course, it was true he’d been given a corps of weaklings, and he remembered what Demiurge had said. But that was nothing more than an excuse. Even if his master had considered the possibility of defeat, surely victory was best.
Soon enough the Throne Room was in front of him, and the room leading to it, Lemegeton, The Lesser Key of Solomon, came into view. As he neared it, his feet grew even more leaden, to the point where he wanted to believe it was some kind of magic trap.
He hoped his master would reprimand him. It would be his pleasure to wipe away the shame, whether his life was taken or he was ordered to commit suicide.
What Cocytus feared most was that his lord would give up on him entirely. If he were to be discarded by the last remaining Supreme Being, what would he do? Cocytus considered himself a sword, a weapon in his master’s hand that cut down everything it was told to, so there could not be a fate more horrible than being deemed unnecessary and useless.
Not only that, but if the other guardians were forsaken due to his actions, how could he possibly atone? THERE WOULD BE NO WAY TO APOLOGIZE. IF IT CAME TO THAT, MY DEATH ALONE WOULD NOT BE ENOUGH.
What’s more…
IF OUR MASTER BECAME DISAPPOINTED AND LEFT THIS LAND LIKE THE OTHER SUPREME BEINGS, WHAT WOULD WE DO…? Cocytus shuddered. He had perfect resistance against chill, so naturally his shivers were not from the cold. He was tormented by a mental pressure severe enough to make a human vomit. TH-THAT WOULD NEVER HAPPEN. LORD AINZ WOULDN’T…WOULDN’T ABANDON US.
The last Supreme One to remain, after all the others had left the tomb… He was their highest ruler and absolute leader. Their lord, so deeply compassionate, would never forsake them. But no matter how much Cocytus comforted himself, persistent voices in the back of his head countered that there was no proof he wouldn’t.
Cocytus arrived at Lemegeton. Normally there wasn’t anyone in this room besides the golems and crystal monsters, but today there were many: four guardians—Demiurge, Aura, Mare, Shalltear—and several elite minions they had selected to accompany them. Their gazes gathered on Cocytus, and for a moment, out of guilt, his expression registered distress.
He felt like they were blaming him for the loss. NO, thought Cocytus, MAYBE THEY’RE RIGHT. His thoughts from before crossed his mind again. THEY MIGHT ALL THINK THAT WAY.
When he looked at them, he could feel the wordless reproach in their eyes. “SORRY I’M LATE. EVEN DEMIURGE MANAGED TO GET HERE ON TIME, AND HE WAS OUTSIDE…”
“No, no, don’t worry about it,” Demiurge answered as the group’s representative. It was his usual voice, and Cocytus couldn’t sense any negativity in it. But Demiurge was an ingenious guardian with excellent control over his emotions and a talent for hiding his true feelings. Cocytus couldn’t tell if he was displeased or not.
In that sense, one could say the Demiurge who had been watching over the previous battle between Ainz and Shalltear was a rare form for him. Of course, his distress was also a sign of his loyalty.
“Anyhow, I told the others, but I’ll be standing in for Albedo as guardian representative today. Any objections?”
“NO. I HAVE NO PROBLEMS WITH YOU REPRESENTING US.”
Albedo was standing in for Sebas as their master’s assistant, so she wasn’t present.
“Good. We’re waiting for one more, and then we’ll enter the Throne Room. But first, considering Albedo’s absence, we’ll have a meeting regarding how to line up for our audience. Really, we should rehearse, but there’s no time, so we’ll omit that and proceed with only spoken explanation. Listen closely.”
Each guardian and minion acknowledged Demiurge, including Cocytus. He did wonder whom they were waiting for, though, since everyone seemed to already be there.
His uncertainty vanished in a moment as he detected a single presence headed in their direction. When he turned toward it, he saw a grotesque being floating toward Lemegeton. It looked like a fetus. No, perhaps embryo was more accurate. It had a wriggly little tail, and its body was an awfully bright pink. Over its head was an angel’s halo, and from its back grew shriveled, featherless wings. Its whole body measured about three feet across, making its way over.
“What’s that?”
Demiurge answered Aura’s question. “It’s the guardian of the eighth level, Victim.”
“It is?” Shalltear chimed in.
Victim arrived at Lemegeton and spun around. Cocytus understood that it was taking in the area.
Victim didn’t have a neck, so if it wanted to look around, it needed to move its entire body.
“Aster-lime-clay-ash, teal-orange-violet-grape-orange-eggshell. Gray-jonquil-orange ivory. Cinnabar-scarlet-flesh-eggshell-scarlet-purple-eggshell-crimson.
Unfazed by the strange language, Demiurge replied as representative of the group. “Good of you to come, Victim. My name is Demiurge, and I will be standing in for Albedo as representative.”
“Fuchsia-scarlet-ash-crimson-clay-grape ebony-cream chestnut-silk-silk orange-eggshell chestnut-cream-grape-crimson. ” Then it turned its body around to look at everyone. “Aster-lime-clay-grape evergreen chestnut-lime-grape-madder thistle chestnut-silk-silk orange-eggshell chestnut-cream-grape-crimson evergreen eggshell, orange-ebony-cinnabar-ivory-scarlet teal madder-ash-cream-ebony clay-brown-eggshell scarlet-jonquil-jonquil-silk-grape-crimson.
“I see. Well, we’re all here now, so first I’ll tell you how to line up.”
Everyone listened to Demiurge’s explanation in earnest. They were about to have an audience with the leader of the Supreme Beings inside the heart of the Great Tomb of Nazarick. If there were any mistakes, the only way to apologize was probably with one’s life.
After Demiurge had said what he needed to, he waited just enough time for everyone to digest it and then led the guardians and minions into the Throne Room.
Entering this space, which he had visited only a handful of times, caused joy to well up in Cocytus’s heart.
Its magnificent construction, the flags representing each of the Supreme Beings, the World Item all the way in the back—it was a room worthy of being the heart of Nazarick. He was so enthralled he forgot, if for only a moment, the flames slowly roasting his heart.
The guardians left the minions behind partway and lined up at the foot of the stairs leading to the throne. After that, they saluted the Ainz Ooal Gown guild crest against the wall to express their adoration and loyalty. Then they dropped to one knee, bowed their heads, and waited until their master arrived.
Before long, along with the solemn sound of the opening door, came a pair of footsteps. They knew without even turning around that it was decidedly not their master. It was unthinkable that the master of the Great Tomb of Nazarick would appear unaccompanied.
“The highest ruler of the Great
Tomb of Nazarick, Lord Ainz Ooal Gown, and captain of the floor guardians, Mistress Albedo.” The voice belonged to one of the Pleiades, Yuri Alpha.
The door sounded again, along with the frigid clack of boots on the floor and the tapping of a staff, followed a little later by the sound of high heels.
It was normal to show respect when one’s master entered the room, but no one gathered here did anything. Why? Because they were already showing all the respect that was possible.
Only Cocytus did something different. A certain thought occupying his mind ended up expressed as movement. It was a truly tiny motion, but it disrupted the atmosphere in a huge way.
He detected, with a skill, the other guardians focusing on him. Walking behind their master, Albedo radiated a rage she failed to suppress despite her best efforts. But, as could be expected in this situation, no one uttered a word.
The footsteps moved slowly past the line of guardians and up the stairs. There came the sound of someone sitting on the throne, and Albedo’s voice rang out. “Raise your heads and bask in the authority of Lord Ainz Ooal Gown.”
Then came the shuffling of everyone moving at once to attend to their master seated on the throne.
Cocytus also raised his head immediately.
Gripping the staff that proved he was ruler of the land, enveloped in a horrifying aura, with a black halo behind his head—this was the highest ruler of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, Ainz Ooal Gown.
Standing in front of him, Albedo observed each of the guardians below, including Cocytus, nodded in satisfaction, and turned to Ainz. “The floor guardians of the Great Tomb of Nazarick bow before you, O Supreme One. Your wish is our command.”
He uttered a dignified “Mm” and struck the floor hard with his staff. As all eyes gathered on him, he slowly opened his mouth to speak. “How good of you to gather before me, floor guardians. First, a word of thanks. Demiurge!”
“My lord!”
“Allow me to thank you for your unceasing efforts. I’m grateful for your loyalty.”
“Oh, what are you saying, Lord Ainz? I am your servant. It is only natural that I should come when you call. Your thanks are too precious to bestow upon me.” Demiurge bowed his head low, his face trembling with delight.
“I see. And do you have any evidence of suspicious scum showing up around here?”
“None, my lord. We are taking ample precautions and should be able to discover them easily should they approach.”
“…I guess that’s all we can do. But don’t neglect the watch! They may employ methods we haven’t considered. And about the skins you brought…the head librarian has concluded that they can withstand being made into low-level scrolls. Is it possible to secure a reliable supply of them?”
“Yes! That will be no problem. We have captured a sufficient number.”
“Aha. And what was the name of the beast you’re using?”
“Beast? Ohh, they’re the ones you mentioned, Lord Ainz…” Demiurge was vague for a moment and then answered, “The bipedal sheep of the Sacred Kingdom. How about we call them Abellion sheep?”
Cocytus wondered at Demiurge’s tone—he seemed to be having an awful lot of fun. In general, Demiurge was good-natured and nice to everyone. But that kindness extended only to those created by the Supreme Beings. To anyone else, he was extremely cruel.
Glimpses of brutality were visible beneath his high spirits. The dark malice was surely directed at the beasts he was talking about, but would Demiurge really hold such an attitude toward beings of lesser intelligence? Considering his personality, Cocytus found it a bit strange, but this wasn’t the time or place to ask about it.
“I see… Sheep.”
Their master smiled faintly, and drawn by his words, Albedo and Demiurge followed suit.
“Goats might be better, but…that’s fine. Then please skin those sheep… Is there any possibility of ecosystem issues due to overhunting?”
“I don’t believe so. Since we use healing magic, we can skin them right away, and unless we’re mass-producing them, there’s no need to gather a large number. This is thanks to those exceedingly brilliant monsters, the tortures.”
“Hmm? Don’t the severed parts disappear if you cast healing magic?”
“About that… We learned something during our healing experiments. If the severed part changes dramatically from its original state before the healing magic is cast—say, it gets minced—then it will remain unaffected by magic. In other words, if we remove the skin and begin processing, it seems to count as a separate entity and will not disappear even if we cast healing magic. Apparently this is also the reason the sheep don’t die if we feed them their own harvested meat. As an aside, it seems that if the healer or healee refuses the healing, the magic doesn’t work as well and the wound remains. It also depends on the tier of the spell used and the amount of time that passes before casting.”
“I see… Goes to show how great the power of magic is… Good. Then continue as you were.”
“Yes, sir. From now on, we’ll separate the skins by sex and age when we send them, so please let me know what age produces the best quality.”
“Hmm, I think I’ll leave that up to the librarian. Next, Victim.”
“Teal-scarlet, fuchsia-scarlet-ash-crimson-clay-grape.
“I’ve called you for the reason you’re thinking. Something unimaginable has happened, and we need to use your skill to protect the guardians and me as well… Sorry. I’ll resurrect you right away, so I hope you’ll forgive me.”
“Eggshell-aster-cinnabar-porcelain-peach-crimson thistle scarlet-ocher-eggshell chestnut-cream-grape-orange-jonquil ivory, chestnut-silk grass clay-opal-crimson grass, fuchsia-scarlet-ash-crimson-clay-grape. Gray-jonquil-orange thistle fuchsia-scarlet-ash-crimson-clay-grape evergreen orange-thistle-indigo. Umber-opal grass orange-seaweed jonquil-violet grass cinnabar-aster-jonquil-clay-opal-jonquil evergreen eggshell-crimson. Umber-evergreen yellow-ivory-white eggshell orange-peach-cinnabar evergreen chestnut-ash-ivory-jonquil evergreen chestnut-black-flesh grass jonquil-eggshell-porcelain evergreen eggshell fuchsia-opal-teal peach-opal scarlet-orange-ebony-cinnabar evergreen ebony-snow-peach-green teal fuchsia-cream-grape-brown-ash.
“I see… Forgive me.”
When their master bowed in apology, Victim gasped in surprise and wriggled this way and that. “Thistle-ocher-jonquil-scarlet-lime-scarlet!
“There may come a time we need to kill you in order to prevent our enemy’s escape. Please accept it. We do not take this action out of hatred. I don’t want to hurt you, one of our precious children, but if we leave these unknown enemies alone for too long, things might end up far worse. That was why…”
“Lime-grass thistle chestnut-ocher-orange-black-white-lime-scarlet eggshell flesh-jonquil-clay-scarlet, fuchsia-scarlet-ash-crimson-clay-grape. Chestnut-silk-thistle-yellow teal orange-licorice-cinnabar-blue-ash grass cream-ivory-scarlet orange-eggshell chestnut-cream-grape-crimson.
“One of the gimmicks in Nazarick uses these words from the Gospel: ‘Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.’ They are truly fitting words for you. I thank you for your love.” Ainz’s attention moved from Victim, who had assumed a posture of deep devotion, to another guardian. “Next, Shalltear.”
She must not have been expecting to get called. Her shoulders jerked, and her voice was terribly shrill when she answered. “My lord! Sir!”
“Come to me.”
He hadn’t said anything like this to the other guardians. Startled, she hurriedly got to her feet. Her anxiety was clear from the tension in her back—like a condemned criminal being led to the guillotine—but her spine was straight, reflecting the
honor she sought.
Upon ascending the stairs, she immediately dropped to one knee a short distance from the throne.
“Shalltear, regarding the thorn pricking your heart…”
Understanding what he meant immediately, she oozed remorse. “Ahh, Lord Ainz! I beg you, please discipline me for that shameful affair! Give me punishment befitting the foolish guilty one who, despite holding the position of guardian, committed such a loathsome act!” Shalltear’s pained voice echoed throughout the Throne Room.
Cocytus could understand how she felt— No, any guardian, anyone created by the Supreme Beings could.
Even if she had been manipulated, she couldn’t forgive herself for acting hostile toward a Supreme Being.
“I see… Then come here, Shalltear.”
Obeying his wave, Shalltear inched toward the throne. A bony hand stretched out to her hung head and gently pet it. She ever so timidly looked up, and everyone heard her quiet, astonished voice. “L-Lord Ainz…”
“…The mistake was mine. And we were far too disadvantaged by our opponent having a World Item. Shalltear, I love all who serve Nazarick, all whom we created from nothing. That includes you, naturally. Are you—precious, blameless Shalltear—going to force me to punish you?”
His eyes said he didn’t know what to do. Cocytus didn’t know what he was looking at, though. His mouth moved slightly. His master’s face was all bone with no lips, so Cocytus couldn’t guess what he’d said, but it was probably someone’s name.
“Ahh, Lord Ainz! You speak of love?” Shalltear’s swooning voice rang out.
Cocytus couldn’t see her face because he was behind her, but her behavior told him all he needed to know. She sounded like she was crying, and her shoulders trembled.
He saw their master stroke her face with his other hand. In it he held a white handkerchief.
“There, there, Shalltear. Don’t cry. All your beauty will go to waste, you know?”
The Lizardman Heroes Page 18