In the Slane Theocracy, at the Berdystch garrison, inside a low-slung tent.
The tent's interior was dimly lit, and the four members of the Scarab adventuring party stood nervously in a line. Moments later, the Divine Commandant of the Clearwater Scripture, Alphonse Moreau, strode in.
He first scanned the tent's surroundings, ensuring no outsiders were present, then flicked his fingers, casting an invisible soundproof spell that enveloped the tent.
Alphonse's stern gaze swept over the four Scarab adventurers, and the elite warriors instantly straightened their postures even more.
"Are your debriefing reports ready?" Alphonse asked gravely.
The buzzcut woman stepped forward, bowing slightly as she presented four scrolls. "Reporting to Your Eminence, the debriefing reports are complete."
Alphonse gave a slight nod and asked, "The temple described in the ancient scrolls of the Eight Greed Kings—faintly visible with three spires, surrounded year-round by sandstorms, only still on the full moon night of April in odd-numbered years—have you found it?"
"We've confirmed its location. The route maps drawn on our return have been handed over to the Black Scripture."
The bearded man cautiously spoke up. "Your Eminence, Cardinal, may I ask what's stored in the temple we were sent to find?"
"Don't ask questions above your pay grade," Alphonse shot him a cold glance. The bearded man immediately clamped his mouth shut, not daring to speak further.
The Divine Commandant drew a silver staff. "The Classified Information Agreement, Article 27, Clause 36. Do you accept it? If you have objections, speak now."
The cleric girl's face soured. "Your Eminence, Cardinal, are you saying you're going to wipe out all our memories of this desert journey?"
She lowered her head slightly, her eyes red-rimmed. "This adventure, this trip through the desert… we made so many precious memories…"
Alphonse gave a gentle smile, easing the tension in the group. "I'm not planning to erase your desert memories. Just the ones from the last two days involving the Divine Envoy."
"Why?" the buzzcut woman blurted out, shocked. "The Divine Envoy has descended to the mortal world—shouldn't that be shouted from the rooftops?"
"You've been out in the desert this whole time, so there's a lot you don't know. The Divine Envoy's appearance needs to stay under wraps for now."
"But why?" the cleric girl asked, bewildered. "Isn't the Divine Envoy the holy child sent by the Six Great Gods from their divine realm to guide us through the eternal night and lead us to the light?"
Alphonse's eyes narrowed, his tone turning icy. "That's not your concern. The more you know, the quicker you end up dead."
The cleric girl immediately shut her mouth, pressing her lips together obediently. She knew she'd brushed against the Slane Theocracy's deepest secrets—secrets too dark for her to grasp, secrets she didn't dare touch.
…
In the Great Tomb of Nazarick, on the tenth underground floor, Ainz sat upon the central throne in a resplendent, gilded hall, reviewing reports spread out on the table before him, handling affairs of state.
Albedo, clad in a pale green gown adorned with gold-embroidered lotus patterns, glided to his side and bowed her head.
"Lord Ainz, our spies in the Slane Theocracy report that those pathetic parasites are up to some shady business. I recommend tightening our surveillance on them."
"Do as you see fit," Ainz replied, not looking up from the reports he was reviewing on the table.
"Oh, by the way," Ainz added, "how's that female black dragon we've got locked up in the Dragon Zoo? Still acting all high and mighty, refusing to eat?"
"Reporting to Supreme Overlord Ainz, a human resident named William Scott has earned the black dragon's trust. She's finally eating the food he's been feeding her."
"Is that so?" Ainz mused. "That's good to hear. This female black dragon is the only living Dragon Lord we've managed to capture. It took a hell of a lot of effort to take her alive. She's a living trophy to keep the riffraff in line—if she died, it'd be a damn shame."
"Lord Ainz, what do you think of the dress I sewed myself? Isn't it pretty?" Albedo asked, fidgeting.
"It's nice," Ainz answered absently, barely glancing at her.
"Then I'll take my leave." A flicker of disappointment crossed Albedo's eyes as she turned and headed deeper into the Great Tomb of Nazarick.
As she passed a side chamber, a head of fiery red hair suddenly popped out from behind an iron-barred window, startling her.
"Well, well, my dear sister, why the long face? Did you strike out with Lord Ainz again?" The red-haired woman grinned mischievously. Her wavy, crimson locks gleamed vibrantly, like a blazing fire.
"Mind your own business, Rubedo. Stay put in there," Albedo snapped, her golden eyes brimming with wariness.
"Like I give a damn about your business. Have you caught EeDechi yet?" Rubedo, the red-haired woman, asked eagerly.
"Not yet, but EeDechi's got no chance of slipping away," Albedo said with iron certainty. "Anyone who dares oppose Lord Ainz will never escape our grasp!"
"Heh heh." Rubedo let out a cryptic chuckle, its meaning unclear—doubt or disdain, hard to tell. "I heard Sebas got his underwear pulled down, literally. If you can't catch EeDechi or take her down, let me have a shot. I'm pretty damn strong, you know!"
"A single level-100 nobody can't stir up much trouble," Albedo scoffed. "The Supreme Overlord questions your loyalty to the Great Tomb of Nazarick, so you'd better stay put right here!"
"Boring." Rubedo pouted, clearly annoyed, and pulled her head back from the iron-barred window, falling silent.
Albedo glanced toward the window and froze in shock. Rubedo was casually pushing open the wall, strolling out of the room. She'd already carved a hole in it, not giving a damn if Albedo saw her.
A pang of worry hit Albedo. Maybe only Lord Ainz's commands could keep Rubedo in check now.
…
The teleportation array flared like twinkling stars, its runes and magic crystals casting a radiant glow across the hall. The Last Defender of the Way adventurer team, in disguise, along with Clearwater Scripture's Divine Commandant Alphonse Moreau, arrived in the capital of the Slane Theocracy.
This core city of the Slane Theocracy was founded 600 years ago. In its epic history, the exalted faith of the Six Great Gods began here.
They led the frail human race, waging war with iron and fire against other races, expanding their territory, and step by step forging the human nation—the Slane Theocracy.
According to the Slane Theocracy's holy scriptures and ancient records, five of the Six Great Gods eventually ascended to the heavens, returning to their divine realm. The God of Death, Surshana, foresaw the catastrophic invasion of the Eight Greed Kings and chose to remain in the mortal world to protect humanity.
The Eight Greed Kings' world-conquering armies swept forward unstoppable, surrounding the Slane Theocracy in an iron grip. Wielding godlike power, they overwhelmed all resistance. To shield the Slane Theocracy, the God of Death, Surshana, marched alone to face the Eight Greed Kings.
In a cataclysmic battle that shook the world, Surshana, outnumbered, fell, his divine soul returning to the godly realm. Awed by the God of Death's might and resolve, the Eight Greed Kings spared the Slane Theocracy from annihilation, instead reducing it to a vassal state.
"After the empire of the Eight Greed Kings crumbled, our Slane Theocracy endured intact, swiftly rising to reclaim its place as a power in the south of the continent," Alphonse concluded, summing up the Slane Theocracy's history:
"Thus, the Six Gods are the sacred, untouchable faith of our people. Though the Six Great Gods have returned to their divine realm, their will to protect humanity lives on, passed down through every citizen of the Slane Theocracy like a flame, burning eternal."