Cocytus spoke gravely, waves of cold rolling off his ice-blue carapace as he surveyed the two bickering Floor Guardians.
Clang.
He struck the ground with the flat of his massive frozen axe. The impact reverberated through the stone floor of the Sixth Floor's coliseum, and the temperature plummeted in an instant. Hoarfrost spider-webbed outward beneath Aura's and Shalltear's feet, the sudden chill biting even through their supernatural resilience.
The sharp cold snapped the pair back to their senses like a slap to the face.
Not good. Losing composure in front of Father—in front of the Supreme Beings.
Aura's pointed ears drooped slightly. She lowered her head, sneaking a sideways glance at Lord Helant. Only when she caught the faint, amused curve of his lips did the tension in her small shoulders finally ease.
Thank goodness. Father isn't angry.
A large, warm hand descended, ruffling her golden hair with familiar affection.
"Aura, being mischievous again?"
"Big Brother Herox!"
Aura's face lit up instantly. She looked up in delight at the newcomer.
A three-meter-tall figure cloaked in dark scales crouched beside her, his draconic features softened by a gentle smile. Herox straightened to his full imposing height and, together with Cocytus, executed a deep, respectful bow toward Momonga and Helant.
"We greet the two Supreme Beings."
Momonga waved a skeletal hand for them to rise, then leaned slightly toward Helant and whispered, "Your NPC didn't look like this before."
He studied Herox carefully. The last time Momonga had seen him—back when the guild was still active—Herox had worn heavy plate armor and, while distinctly draconic, had possessed far fewer scales. Now the man was practically covered head to toe in gleaming obsidian plating that looked as natural as skin.
Helant stepped forward without answering Momonga directly. His expression was a mix of pride and mild apology as he addressed his creation.
"How's your body holding up? Any anomalies?"
Herox bent low so his creator could meet his glowing crimson eyes. "Thanks to Father's power, my overall strength has roughly tripled. However… my old equipment no longer fits."
He glanced down at himself with faint embarrassment. The heavy cloak he'd hastily thrown on barely concealed the dramatic changes. When Albedo had informed him that Father had summoned all Guardians, he'd had no time to commission new armor. He cast an admiring, almost envious glance at Cocytus.
"Cocytus walks around bare. His carapace is his armor. How does he remain so calm about it?"
"My oversight," Helant murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. "While I was editing your data to bring you fully online in this world, I… may have slapped a hidden boss template onto you. Your racial line shifted from Dragonkin to True Demonic Dragon."
Momonga's eyes flared with a brief green light as his emotional suppression passive kicked in.
"Demonic Dragon… boss template?"
In YGGDRASIL, any creature designated as a "boss" far surpassed the power ceiling of level-one-hundred players. Some required entire raid alliances and multiple World Items to defeat.
The Demonic Dragon in particular had been a notorious roaming growth-type world enemy—one whose core ability, [Dragon Soul Devour], allowed it to grow exponentially stronger by consuming other dragons.
It had taken thirteen World-Class Items and a full hundred max-level players just to bring it down once.
Momonga glanced sideways at Herox, reassessing the towering figure. With Helant's modifications, this NPC could very well grow to rival even Rubedo, Nazarick's strongest trump card.
"Apologies for keeping the Supreme Beings waiting."
A smooth, cultured voice cut through the momentary silence.
Demiurge strode forward, his lean, fox-like face framed by slicked-back dark hair and round glasses. His tailored orange pinstripe suit was impeccable as always. He offered a graceful bow before straightening.
Helant turned to greet him, but before he could speak, a pure white blur slammed into his chest with enthusiastic force.
"Lord Helant!"
Helant staggered half a step, his vision briefly filled with flowing, beautiful hair and black wings. Albedo clung to him tightly, pressing her face against his chest as her maidenly scent—something sweet like vanilla and night-blooming flowers—filled his senses.
"Albedo, behave yourself. Let go."
He looked down at the succubus rubbing happily against him and gave a wry, helpless smile. The little demoness had absolutely no restraint; she pounced on him like an overexcited puppy whenever the mood struck her. Fortunately, after repeated incident, he had grown accustomed to it and no longer flushed bright red.
"Lord Helant, it has been dozens of minutes since I last saw you," Albedo protested softly, golden eyes shining with unabashed adoration. Her black wings fluttered behind her like an excited bird's.
Still, she reluctantly released him and stepped back with practiced grace. Clinginess without tact would only weary her beloved, and business came first.
Composing herself in an instant, she turned and addressed the assembly with crisp authority.
"All Floor Guardians are now present except Gargantua on the Fourth Floor and Victim on the Eighth, who remain on standby as per protocol."
She dropped smoothly to one knee, the other Guardians following suit in perfect unison—Cocytus, Demiurge, Herox, Shalltear, Aura, Mare, and the shadows of Sebas and the Pleiades lingering respectfully at the edges.
"Then let us renew our pledge of eternal loyalty to the Supreme Beings."
Albedo's voice burned with fervor. Demiurge's tail flicked with barely contained excitement. Herox's draconic eyes gleamed with devotion. Even the usually aloof Shalltear and energetic Aura knelt in solemn silence.
Before them stood Momonga and Lord Helant—two of the forty-two gods who had created the Great Tomb of Nazarick.
Momonga glanced uncertainly at Helant, who offered an encouraging nod and a small smile.
"Go on, Guild Leader. They're waiting for you."
"You will become a leader in your own right," Helant added softly.
Momonga's skull offered no expression, but inwardly he smiled wryly. A leader, indeed.
Those fervent, worshipful gazes felt like hundreds of ants crawling over his bones. Nervousness surged—then fear—and then..
Boom.
An aura of pure despair erupted involuntarily from Momonga's body. The air grew heavy and frigid, an oppressive silence spreading through every Guardian like the shadow of death itself.
They all thought the exact same thing in that instant:
This is the Guild Master of the Forty-Two Supreme Beings. Death incarnate. The final ruler of Nazarick.
Momonga quickly reined in the aura and cleared his throat.
"Thank you for gathering so promptly. I am Momonga, guild master of Ainz Ooal Gown, and the last member of the guild to remain."
Albedo rose first, her voice ringing with solemn pride. "Your words humble us, Lord Momonga. We are but dust beneath the feet of the Supreme Beings—servants created to carry out your will."
Behind her, the other Guardians nodded in perfect unison, their loyalty unwavering. They existed for no other purpose than to serve the Supreme Beings who had given them life.
Momonga nodded, then turned the floor to his old friend.
Helant stepped forward. Soft white holy light began to shimmer around him like a gentle halo. His long silver hair drifted weightlessly, and his deep blue eyes radiated warmth.
"You are the children of my comrades and myself," he said, voice steady and kind. "I know each of you better than anyone—your strengths, your personalities, the love and effort poured into your creation. You are the finest, most loyal beings I could ever ask for."
As he spoke, the gentle radiance spread outward, sweeping away Momonga's lingering deathly chill like a warm spring breeze after winter. The Guardians felt bathed in sunlight, tension melting from their bodies.
Where Momonga inspired awe and terror, Helant evoked something softer—parental affection, pride, safety. They saw him not as an untouchable overlord, but as a kind and loving father.
"Father…"
The word slipped unconsciously from Mare's lips. Aura and Herox smiled without realizing it, cheeks faintly flushed. Albedo clasped her hands over her heart, golden eyes misty.
"We swear," Albedo declared, voice trembling with emotion, "we will never bring shame upon our creators—the Supreme Beings who granted us existence."
Behind her, every Guardian echoed in perfect, thunderous unison:
"We swear!"