The night was as dark as ink, with only the faint red glow flickering on the magic screen. Ainz sat in brooding silence, his thoughts heavy. No doubt about it—the Slane Theocracy's attempt to resurrect Surshana, the God of Death, was a game-changer, a real kick in the teeth.
An urgent message from the Sorcerer Kingdom had confirmed it: the Slane Theocracy was trying to bring Surshana back. Ainz had faith in his level-100 guardians—they were probably already boots-on-the-ground in the Theocracy's capital, ready to throw down.
Surshana, the God of Death, was a legendary figure from six hundred years ago, an undead like Ainz himself. Alongside five companions, he'd founded the Slane Theocracy. After his buddies kicked the bucket, he single-handedly kept the Theocracy standing during the Eight Greed Kings' world-conquering rampage.
Now, the Slane Theocracy was gunning to bring him back. Could they pull it off? Was Surshana already up and walking? Or had the resurrection been botched, stopped dead in its tracks? Maybe he was back but under the thumb of the Sorcerer Kingdom's level-100 guardians?
A swarm of questions buzzed in Ainz's mind, but the magic screen stayed silent, no updates coming through. He itched to rush to the Slane Theocracy himself, but EeDechi was here, and letting her slip through his fingers wasn't an option.
After chewing it over, Ainz made up his mind.
"Nabe?"
"Here, Lord Ainz." Nabe gave a deep bow.
"I've got to make a trip to the Slane Theocracy's capital. I'll fly out far from the village first, then use teleportation magic to bounce, so the mana ripples don't tip off EeDechi. You stay here and keep tabs on her."
"Got it!" Nabe stood ramrod straight.
"From now on, you're on your own. One thing—keep that human-hating streak of yours in check. Try to think like one of them."
With that final piece of advice, Ainz shed his heavy magical steel armor, his body rising like a wisp of smoke, soaring into the distance until he vanished into the vast night sky.
Nabe watched him go, then brushed her bangs aside and strode back toward Moonstone Hollow.
…
EeDechi, Barrett, and Franco sat around a campfire, listening to an old man spin tales of his youthful travels through the deserts of the Eight Greed Kings.
Not far off, a graceful figure approached—it was Nabe, the companion of the adventurer Momon. She quietly joined them, sitting cross-legged by the fire.
EeDechi squinted at her, the glaring "-400" Justice Value hovering above Nabe's head practically burning her eyes.
"Hey, mind if I crash with you guys tonight?" Nabe asked, squirming under EeDechi's stare.
Franco jumped up, ready to blurt something out, but EeDechi slapped a hand over his mouth and cut in, "Where's your buddy Momon?"
"He had to take off for something. I'm on my own now, feeling a bit lonely." Nabe avoided EeDechi's gaze, turning her head aside, and for a moment, she almost looked bashful.
"Lovely lady, of course you can crash with us. Should I take this as some kind of special invite?" Franco broke free from EeDechi's grip, staring straight at Nabe, his tone dripping with sleazy innuendo.
Franco's violet eyes roamed over Nabe's figure with bad intentions. His gaze slid from her delicate face, down to the curves hidden under her cloak, as if trying to x-ray through her silk clothes to map out every inch of her body.
To Nabe, humans were disgusting, lowly bugs, and now this bug, Franco, was leering at her with that cheap, lustful look. Revulsion churned in her gut, her stomach twitching so hard she nearly puked up her dinner.
Still, Nabe swallowed her disgust, forcing herself to stay focused. For Lord Ainz's mission, she'd play along, even if it meant using her charm.
She plastered on a stiff smile. "That's… that's great. I'm all alone and kinda scared at night. Being with you guys makes me feel safe."
Franco was practically bouncing with glee, ready to make his next move, when EeDechi cut in, glaring at Nabe. "No way. Your Justice Value's too low. Don't even think about cozying up to us. Go find somewhere else to chill."
"Captain! A lonely girl like her, drifting in a foreign land—can't we protect her? Soothe her lonely heart?" Franco argued, full of righteous bluster.
"I'd rather let you guys hit a brothel than see you tangled up with a woman whose Justice Value is -400," EeDechi shot back coldly.
"Deal! Captain, you said it. From now on, I can hit the brothels fair and square, and you can't stop me!" Franco grinned ear to ear.
"You idiot…" EeDechi shook her head, at a loss for words.
The night had grown late, and the campfire's embers soon fizzled out. Even the toughest night owls needed sleep, especially adventurers with a long road ahead tomorrow. EeDechi, Barrett, and Franco headed back to the inn, crashing in their booked rooms, 202 and 201.
Trailing behind them, Nabe kept pace, silent as a shadow, and checked into room 203 right next door.
…
Sometime deep in the night, Barrett jolted awake, stirred by a strange noise.
He rolled out of bed, only to find Franco's side of the room empty. Outside the glass window, where the sky should've been pitch-black, a flickering cross of red and yellow light blazed. From a distance, it looked like some bizarre star hanging in the heavens.
Barrett squinted at the night sky, his brow furrowing. He recognized it—not a celestial body or cosmic event, but a distress flare, the kind used by traveling caravans.
Somewhere out there, a caravan was under attack, desperate and helpless, firing off a signal in hopes of rescue.
A caravan making it this far had to be loaded with coin. And as long as the ones in need were willing to pay, Barrett wasn't one to skimp on his do-gooder instincts.
He mulled it over for a moment, deciding to round up his teammates for a quick huddle.
Then a weird thought hit him. Why the hell would a caravan be out here in the barren wasteland of the Eight Greed Kings' desert? Were they seriously trekking through this dead zone to make a deal?
Barrett ditched his silk pajamas, throwing on clothes fit for the road. He pushed open the room's door—it was slightly ajar. Either someone had slipped out, or a thief had slipped in.
Barrett glanced at Franco's messy bed and knew the guy had snuck out in the middle of the night.
He knocked on the door of room 202. EeDechi opened it, her black hair a tangled mess, rubbing sleepy eyes and yawning like there was no tomorrow.
But the second she heard about the attacked caravan and saw the red-yellow flare blazing in the night sky, EeDechi snapped awake. "We're going. Now. To help that caravan."
The two packed their sparse gear, but Franco was still nowhere to be found. Barrett scoured the inn top to bottom before stopping at the door of room 203.
He remembered this was Nabe's room. After a brief hesitation, Barrett knocked.
The door cracked open, and there stood Franco, shirtless, sporting nothing but a pair of loud floral underwear, his blond hair a disheveled mess.
As soon as the door opened, Barrett took half a step back, clamping his nose shut.
It wasn't Franco's half-naked getup that threw him—it was the weird, pungent scent that wafted out, hitting Barrett's nostrils like a punch. From experience, he could tell the air was laced with the sharp tang of a heavy sedative, the kind of misty vapor that could knock out a grown troll cold.
"What the hell's that smell?" Barrett asked, pinching his nose.
"Just a bit of sleep magic, no big deal," Franco said, playing it cool.
Barrett frowned. "If the captain finds out, you're a dead man. Get your ass up. We're heading out to save a caravan. Might make us a fat stack of coin."
"Fine," Franco grumbled, clearly pissed. He ducked back into the room, threw on his clothes, and the two headed downstairs to meet EeDechi in the inn's lobby.
The night was still black as pitch. The trio grabbed their horses from the stables and rode toward the distress flare glowing in the sky…
…
At dawn, in the only inn in Moonstone Hollow, room 203.
Soft morning light streamed through the glass window, spilling over a slender, naked figure on the bed.
Nabe opened her eyes, brushing back her tangled hair, and struggled to sit up. She pulled a thin blanket over herself, her gaze hazy, her body sore and weak, a damp ache between her legs, her limbs like jelly.
Staring at her completely bare body, Nabe frowned, confused. She vaguely recalled wearing silk pajamas last night.
But no time for that now. She forced herself out of bed, stumbled out of the inn, and learned that EeDechi and her crew had already split.
"Those three damned filthy ants!" Nabe spat through gritted teeth. She yanked her horse from the stables, ready to charge into the Eight Greed Kings' desert.
She had to catch up to EeDechi—couldn't let her trail vanish into the endless sands.
"Adventurer lady," a villager in a gray headscarf called out, stopping Nabe. He pointed to the sky. "Look, there's a cross-shaped flare in the east. Probably a distress signal from the Blacktar Wastes. A caravan heading into the desert got hit—likely by a Sandstorm Stalker. That's no magical construct we can handle. Please, help them."
"Get lost, you mud-crawling bug," Nabe sneered, glaring down from her towering horse, her eyes cold and stormy.
"Please—" the man started, but Nabe cut him off with an impatient flick of her hand. A blast of searing lightning shot from her palm, charring the man into a blackened husk. The sickening stench of burnt flesh filled the air.
Nabe spurred her warhorse forward, its hooves crunching over the charred remains as she galloped toward the Eight Greed Kings' desert.