You Must Construct a Ziggurat!
— From the Beginner Dark Lord's Manual.
I sprawled blissfully in my chair in front of the monitor. Friday—oh, how much that word implies. Another plague-ridden week had finally ended. Heh, year-end madness; everyone is losing their minds. Nervous, frantic, trying to kill off the final orders. After all, how does it work in our country? First, they promise each other a "tanker of oil for a briefcase of bucks," and then one starts wondering where to get a tanker of oil, while the other—respectively—wonders where to find the briefcase of bucks. And the worst part is that the bucks are usually found, but the "tanker of oil" still needs to be assembled. That is when it turns out they ordered the wrong thing from the wrong people, in the wrong quantity, the money has naturally been spent, and the "goods" must be delivered before New Year's—meaning in a week, two at most.
And so it begins: the client tears into the sales department, the sales department tortures the designers, and they, in turn, pounce on tech support, demanding they "make everything awesome and have it done by yesterday." And how am I supposed to do that when all I have at my disposal are "shit, sticks," and three individuals of the "Mikhalych-for-a-bottle" class? No, I won't argue—with a squad like that, you can get a lot done, and it might even work, but the client doesn't just want it to "run," they want it to "look the part"—complete with the promised German solenoids and Italian switches... yeah.
But all of that was behind me now, and it would only flicker back into my consciousness in two days. For now, it was the start of the weekend. I could sink into my chair and brew myself a magnificent tea—a new, yet-to-be-tested recipe obtained by our "shaman," a recognized connoisseur of various herbs (in the good sense of the word) since our university days. And besides the tea, I would finally get to the latest creation of the dark Japanese genius called "Overlord"—specifically, the anime, since I'd already read the manga. So, let us begin.
The beginning turned out to be quite... minor key. To be honest, I didn't expect it. In the manga, it seemed somehow darker, though... the thoughts and feelings of the hero saying goodbye to... hmmm, essentially to his childhood, were conveyed well enough. I'm not the biggest fan of online computer games—I sat in Warcraft for a while, but the rest of the segment didn't really click. The further it goes, the more these games turn into mindless grinders with a money-pump function via microtransactions. However, I know the feeling of a crumbling, drifting collective all too well; I've dealt with it, and those are definitely not the things you want to experience again. Everything changed when the Player sat on the throne and began to count down the final seconds... 00:03... 00:02... 00:01... 00:00. Suddenly, the lights in the apartment went out.
My first thought was: "Fuck, I'm screwed!" Inside, my stomach nearly fused to my backside from fright. Then logic kicked in, and with a wave of relief, another thought flashed: "The damn breakers again!" I reached out to stand up from the table, but... I froze mid-motion, feeling that yes, "Fu-u-u-u-uck..."
My surroundings were anything but my apartment! I didn't recall owning a massive throne hall with a pile of banners and a crowd of beauties for every taste, along with a butler, all frozen in a kneeling position a couple of meters away from me. Plus, a gorgeous brunette with black wings growing from somewhere near her tailbone was at my feet. I sank back into the chair and slowly shifted my gaze to my hands (my pulse was hammering at the speed of a jackhammer!), already suspecting what I would see there. Instead of the familiar limbs of flesh and blood, my eyes met the white bones of a skeleton, adorned with a heap of rings. And everything looked and felt... well... anime-esque.
For a moment, I had a wild urge to scream something profanely panicked at the top of my lungs, but... almost immediately, everything returned to normal. No, I hadn't lost my emotions. But they became... hmmm... outside of me. A rather strange sensation.
"Goddammit, Shaman, what kind of grass did you shove into your brew this time?" What else was I supposed to think if, after a couple of sips of this miracle-concoction (I hadn't decided yet if it was miraculous or monstrous), I woke up as a damn lich in a dungeon that looked exactly like the final frames of the anime, surrounded by a bunch of characters from said anime? A drug-induced hallucination at least looked logical and offered a way out!
"Lord?" the very same brunette with wings turned to me.
Yes... the old friend did a good job creating her. It was lucky I managed to tweak the settings slightly—I wouldn't have been able to do that later. Uh... What friend? What settings? What nonsense am I talking? What do you mean, "what friend"?! Tabula, of course!
I shook my head.
What the hell was going on here? I could write off the setting and even the beauty as hallucinations from the wrong tea, but I doubted even under "stimulants" I could invent and implant into my memory hundreds of hours of the adventures of some Momonga & Co., setting tables, and other game interfaces. This was becoming more and more... I don't even know the words to describe what a black abyss of hopeless dread opened up in my gut.
"Is everything all right, Lord?" an anxious Albedo approached and leaned over me as I sat, looking me over with a worried, lovestruck gaze.
"Hmm..." I was simultaneously trying frantically to figure out what to do next, convincing myself this was just a glitch from some junk in the tea or general exhaustion, and calculating how not to blow my cover in front of this lovely girl who (as I knew from my-not-my memory and the manga I'd read) was roughly the second most powerful monster in this dungeon. "Something is wrong, Albedo. I have a request for you." Or should I be ordering her? I think... no... I don't know.
"I am ready for anything, Momonga-sama," the demoness bowed, thrusting out her chest and her tight, alluring backside at the same time. And... absolutely nothing stirred in my soul. I wouldn't say I was a womanizer, but not to notice a girl like that, who was clearly all in... Wait, stop, not the time, and being a naked skeleton doesn't leave much room for maneuver... yeah. "Momonga-sama?" Damn, I spaced out again! Suddenly, that stone-cold calm washed over me once more.
"Look beyond the borders of Nazarick. I feel... an irregularity in the surrounding world. Sebas," I turned my face toward the butler, "take the Pleiades and assist her." What nonsense am I spouting!
"Immediately, Supreme One," the demoness replied, sounding both inspired and slightly disappointed, and literally dashed from the spot. The man simply nodded and followed with the girls.
Fine, while they're busy, I need to look around, and if this is a hallucination—get out of it. What's recommended in such situations? Pinch myself? I glanced at my wrist bones...
Some time later.
"Well, this is going to be harder than I thought," the grim lich muttered, kicking the innocent throne once again.
I could feel the texture of objects, their temperature, and vibrations, but there was no pain, just as before... which proved absolutely nothing. Undead don't really do well with physical pain anyway. What was I supposed to do, bash myself against the staff floating in the air near the throne? But all of this was a bit too sophisticated for a hallucination. Had I really been "isekai'd"?
Foreign memories, surfacing as if they were my own, said yes, but even more so did the new sensations and reflexes. I didn't need to turn my head to know exactly what was behind my back. I felt... mana, resting inside me; I perceived the magical items I was wearing; I knew—literally felt with a kind of phantom habit—how to use them. I saw their functionality at the level of raw sensation. I felt... so much that I should have suffered sensory shock. But instead of shock, I was being fanned by a breeze of indifference, an extinguishing of emotions at every surge of thought like: "How can this be?!"
And the most annoying part was that it didn't feel new! In the sense that it was no different from a detailed dream where you dream you have superpowers and know how to use them! There was no shock, no sudden expansion of consciousness, no "wow effects." Frankly, I didn't notice any of it, or rather, I didn't perceive it as something new and unfamiliar until my own mind arrived at the question: "How do I see if I have no eyes in my sockets?" Only after consciously starting to investigate did I begin to perceive the differences of this new existence from the old one.
And gods, how I wanted it to be a hallucination... just a colorful dream brought on by watching anime, but... But I couldn't find any proof! I couldn't wake up, couldn't find any inconsistencies or sloppiness in the world around me. I could examine even the smallest details of the texture on the stone throne's surface, and they didn't jump before my eyes, didn't change, and didn't flow into one another as usually happens in a dream. Everything indicated that, damn it all, I really had ended up here...
My grim reflections were interrupted by the return of the demoness with the big... eyes... and wings, yes. Hmm, even though I had become undead and nothing "stirred" like that, the aesthetic pleasure of beholding a harmoniously built girl hadn't gone anywhere. That was something, at least.
"Lord Momonga, you were right. Nazarick has been transported to unknown lands," Albedo reported with a bow.
"Hmm," thoughts raced frantically in my head.
What was I supposed to do with all this? The degree of loyalty of the dungeon's inhabitants was unknown to me. In the manga, they were ready to tear everyone apart for their Momonga, but the problem was that this clearly wasn't the manga—point one—and I wasn't Momonga—point two. Though regarding the second point, vague doubts were already starting to gnaw at me—where else would I know how the tomb's commands work, what the Staff floating nearby is capable of, as well as the NPCs and what else is in the dungeon? Very strange. The icy calm was still with me, so leaving aside thoughts of hysteria, horror, and the madness option, I asked myself one of the key questions for any Russian person. Since "who is to blame?" was impossible to find out right now, let's go back to "what is to be done?"
To start with, it's clearly worth determining the degree of loyalty of Nazarick's population. Judging by the unquestioning execution of my commands by Albedo, the butler, and the maids, the overwhelming part of the combat power is on my side, but the question still needs clarifying—what if that loli-vampire has her own opinion on the matter? "On paper," Albedo and Sebas should crush her, but would I survive that fallout? Though "survive" is a stretch; more like "remain in existence." Right, fine. Next item on the agenda—briefly figure out the surroundings. There's someone cunning in this world who controlled that same vampire, and I have no idea what's going on in their head. But something tells me that the appearance of a necropolis with a crowd of demons and undead on board won't make that "someone" happy. I certainly wouldn't be happy in their place. And third—become alive or at least get a normal body. I was somewhat used to life's little joys, and the prospect of spending the rest of eternity without the ability to taste food, not to mention more, ahem, intimate things, was depressing. Again, an elusive flow of who-knows-what passed through my thoughts, leaving crystal clarity and walling off excessive emotions.
"Lord, shall I continue?" As soon as I made a sound, the girl paused, awaiting a new command and devouring me with her eyes... brrr.
"I was lost in thought. Yes, continue."
"Instead of the familiar Helheim Swamps, we have found ourselves in grasslands. There are unknown mountains nearby. No roads or other signs of intelligent life have been found yet, but we have not ventured far from the tomb."
"Is that so? Well, all the better. Gather all the Guardians of Nazarick capable of leaving their posts in the Arena... in five hours. I need to know if everyone has been transported and what our current strength is. I also want you to continue scouting the area."
"As you command, Lord."
"I will be waiting for you in the arena, my dear Albedo. In the meantime... I'll stretch my bones a bit." Considering my condition, it was a rather ironic phrase. The funniest part was that the demoness understood it too and started smiling... hmm, or was it because I called her "mine" and "dear" on top of it?
"It doesn't matter. If it's necessary to maintain her loyalty, then why not?" a calm and indifferent thought came to mind. And there was something wrong with it... On one hand, it seemed logical and correct, but on the other... since when do I think in such a vein about girls in general and gorgeous women who throw themselves at me in particular?
Leaving reflections on the moral character of the lich-master of the dungeon for later, I hurried to the sixth floor where the Arena was located, not forgetting to take that flamboyant staff with me. Though it was quite bulky and, in my opinion, damn inconvenient, but... Ah, what's there to say? For someone into fantasy, ending up in the body of a powerful mage (even if a bit dead)... My hands were itching to try and cast something, and testing my own capabilities was only the second item on the list. Again, a breeze of power passed through my head, displacing the excessive excitement. Hmm, it's certainly useful at times, but these "spontaneous" activations are not a good thing. I need to figure that out too. A command-wish directed into the Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown—and I was already at the entrance.
Built in the likeness of something Colosseum-like, the arena sprawled under the vault of a night sky. I remembered that Blue Planet spent nearly half a year designing this "ceiling," turning it into a replica of the Milky Way, seasoned with some "cosmetic" changes, like constellations in the shapes of guild members' silhouettes. Shaking my head to clear the my-not-my thoughts, I stepped onto the sand. Almost immediately after, something small with a wild scream leaped out from somewhere in the "spectator" seats and rushed straight at me. The hand not holding the staff reflexively formed the gesture for "Bone Prison," and only at the last moment did I realize that this "something" was one of the Floor Guardians. I lowered my hand instead of directing the necessary mana into it... Eh? These "out of nowhere" reflexes, skills, and most importantly—the understanding of how it all works—are just chilling. On one hand, I can't understand what's happening, and such behavior from my own body is quite unnerving; on the other hand, had I been left "with a bare ass" in the depths of a necropolis inhabited by things that are far from hamsters, it would have been very "fun" too. I don't know which is "better." In any case, the Floor Guardian reached me unimpeded and was now actively drilling into me with an adoring gaze. By the looks of it—a cute, pointy-eared creature about ten or twelve years old, both looking like her manga image and differing greatly, as a real, full-sized living being standing before you differs from a contour black-and-white drawing. Height—a meter and a bit if jumping off a chair. Eyes—one green, the other violet. The size of the fire in her rear was hard to determine, but clearly large. His sister should be around here somewhere too. Though considering that Chagama, the Great and Terrible yaoi-fangirl of all Nazarick, created them, this rowdy thing is actually the girl—which, on closer inspection, is even noticeable by the body proportions starting to shift toward adulthood—and that shy creature in the miniskirt timidly hovering in the stands, not daring to come down, is the boy. Brrr, what a bunch of people were in this guild. Oh, right, almost forgot—this rowdy creature was an elf, and a "dark" one at that. Though to me, she just looked well-tanned. However, considering other features, the fact of her pointed ears and almond-shaped eyes was somewhat lost in my perception. I'll just say this was not at all how I imagined meeting the "fair folk"... well, in the unlikely case I ever ended up in a magical world.
"Aura..." I remembered the girl's name. I mean, the girl who is a girl, posing as a boy... uh... yeah.
"Welcome to the Sixth Floor, Lord Momonga!" Aura gave a waist-deep bow, straightened up, hopped in place, and continued to devour me with her adoring gaze.
"I would like to use the arena."
"Of course, Lord Momonga! It is completely at your disposal! How can we help you? Oh, right!" Aura slapped her forehead. "Mare! Lord Momonga is already here! Get down here this instant!"
"I-I know!" shouted something in white tights and a skirt—the kind not even every porn star would wear—from the top of the "spectator podium." The now-familiar wave of cold passing through my consciousness swept away the mixture of horror and a hint of disgust.
"Turtle!" "Charisma +1," I noted to myself, watching this strange boy hastily jump from the podium onto the arena sand, straighten his skirt, and run toward us... Another gust of the breeze calmed a new flash of something... panically homophobic, and the hand that had started to rise again dropped. In the end, it's stupid to blame the creation for the creator's sick head.
"I-I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Lord Momonga," he said, dropping into a curtsy... hmm, maybe it is a girl? Alas, memory and... probably that very "sense of life" inherent in any self-respecting undead, asserted the opposite. And I really should have been shocked by the realization that I now literally felt the presence of living beings and understood how to interpret those sensations, but no—there was no shock, only a light breeze of cold in my skull.
"It is quite all right."
"Lord Momonga is so kind," began the girl who was a gi... anyway, Aura.
"Ahem... yes, I need mannequins for target practice and several sturdy obstacles. I want to test my staff and refresh my own abilities a bit."
"Wow, is that really the Legendary Staff that only Lord Momonga can use?" While the boy in the skirt (who, by the way, was also carrying a staff) was admiring and drooling over the guild's "uber-item," his sister snapped her fingers and summoned several buff... hmm, either draconians, lizardmen, or something else. These demonic versions of cheap labor quickly stuck mannequins in place and built what was practically a labyrinth of stone blocks on the arena sand.
All this took less than a couple of minutes while I (for some reason) on autopilot (hmm...) told the little elf about the staff, simultaneously remembering and realizing its specs myself. And they were... I don't even know how, using legal methods and without a GM's help, such a thing could even be assembled. But a multi-use artifact capable of summoning creatures and elementals at raid-boss levels, enhancing the owner's magic, allowing one to "slot" dozens of spells into it, and doing everything short of making coffee (though if you slotted a utility spell from the domestic arsenal...), was simply overwhelming. Practically, this one "stick" could level a continent, and the guild's treasury held hundreds of artifacts, maybe not of such lethal power, but not far behind. And then there were even more ultimate items, next to which even this cane would look dull. Brutal. The only thing missing was creatures capable of using all this stuff—many items were, if not named, then strictly bound to "classes," skills, and other game conventions; for example, the "NPCs" couldn't use them.
Waiting until the Nazarick maintenance workers retreated, I stepped into "firing" range of the mannequins, deciding to start with something simple. I only had to think about the attack and point the staff, and a black lightning bolt struck from its tip, instantly turning the mannequin into a pile of ash. It took two bolts to punch through a wall. Ahem... fine. Setting the staff aside, I decided to try doing something myself, but what? As soon as I concerned myself with such a choice, spells lined up in my head. Dozens of spells, ranging from buffs, simple mines, shields, and fireballs, to truly terrifying rituals for creating "flesh golems," temporal shifts, and "total disintegration." And I... I know all of this? As it turned out a little later—yes, I do. No idea how it's all built or what principles it works on, but... it worked! Real, damn me (though with such an arsenal, only an arch-demon would stand a chance of "damning" me, and even then they'd have to sweat for it with no guarantees), magic! How cool! Dreams do come true. Albeit in such a... specific way.
Alas, the euphoria didn't last long. That mysterious force, which was already starting to seriously piss me off, cooled my head again. So, all the spells that the arch-lich Momonga could use in the game, I can use too. That's a plus. I have no idea why this thing works or why it works exactly like this. That's a minus. Meaning the magic theory in my head is exactly the same as before I arrived—slightly less than nothing. And that's very bad. I can physically feel that with such an arsenal, even a wide one, I'll be hammering nails with a microscope. And the fact that my "resurrection" is postponed indefinitely becomes perfectly clear. This means I need that knowledge. Ideally—teachers, but I have vague doubts that my "monster subordinates" would appreciate questions about magic basics. Though... considering Albedo's settings...
Through practice and "warming up," the five hours I'd given my "wards" passed somewhat unnoticed, and a dark rift opened on the Arena sand, from which a busty, gothic loli with an umbrella emerged majestically.
"Oh?" the guest looked around. "Am I the first to arrive by any chance?"
My sense of life reported that this girl wasn't quite alive, but she didn't quite feel like undead either. A "True Vampire," right? Outwardly, Shalltear was very easily recognizable, but in reality, she looked much more striking than in a black-and-white picture. Crimson eyes with elongated pupils, skin pale to the point of being bluish but beautiful, without a hint of sickness. Her dress also wasn't entirely black, but featured plenty of crimson elements. And her height was nearly a head taller than Aura's. Overall... a very pretty girl, albeit a bit short and with a padded chest, but for a being with her level of Blood Magic mastery, physical appearance should be a rather relative thing. Well, in theory... logically... though remembering her canonical complexes on the subject, I'm not entirely sure logic applies here.
"Instant teleportation is strictly forbidden in Nazarick. Weren't you told not to use 'Gate' on your own? Shalltear, are you incapable of walking to the Arena on your own two feet? And what are you doing here anyway?" The tomboy-loli immediately switched on her aggressive mode at the sight of the gothic-loli.
"I was summoned by Lord Momonga," the vampiress replied in a purring tone, not even looking at Aura.
"What?" the elf looked at me in surprise.
"Yes, Aura, I ordered the Guardians to gather here," I confirmed the red-eyed one's words, involuntarily recalling a similar situation in the manga and not quite understanding if I needed to intervene or not.
"Still, that's no excuse for breaking the rules, Shalltear!" the girl didn't back down, pressing the guest again.
I was suddenly struck by nostalgia—the creators of these two were brother and sister and were also constantly arguing. Those glorious days began to flash before my eyes, and... once again, I caught myself with irritation sinking into memories that weren't mine at all.
Meanwhile, the confrontation was picking up speed. Or rather—what confrontation? Total ignoring by the newcomer of "all the yapping" from the mistress of the training ground and growing resentment from the ignored party. As soon as the vampiress appeared, she headed straight for me, her gaze literally glued to my face, which involuntarily made me think about preparing "Paralysis," "Disintegration," and "Teleport" just in case.
"...stinks like a corpse!" a new jab from Aura, who was still trying to get a rise out of the guest, cut through my ears (or rather, whatever I have instead of them).
"Ahem..." I should probably slow her down before she blabs something extra, I miss it, and then she starts having some kind of doubts and second-guessing. Who knows these NPCs, especially considering what kind of out-of-their-mind nerds wrote them? No, seriously, even just off the top of my head, evaluating Momonga's memory from the side, I can say for sure—99% of his guild members were seriously disturbed. The Japanese mentality already seems strange to a non-Japanese person, having many not-very-decent manias, fetishes, and cultural phenomena, but these local characters were impressive even against the background of their fellow citizens. And all of that was embedded into the NPCs of Nazarick. And the scariest part: Momonga was the most warped of all the warped figures of Ainz Oal... Gods and Demons, who came up with a guild name like that? Right, I got distracted again, and meanwhile, in the arena...
"Lord Momonga?" the elf made innocent eyes.
"You know, Lord Momonga is also undead," the gothic loli drawled in a sweet voice, winding her arms around my neck in an incredibly smooth motion and pressing her whole body passionately against me. My left hand, free of the staff, reflexively supported her by the butt. Yeah, I definitely don't perceive her as a child; more like a miniature girl. Quite pleasing to the eye... hmmm... and maybe through Blood Magic, one could try to grow some meat onto this skeleton... "Oh, my lord, my mas-s-ster. Please, continue..." Ahem, okay, the question of her loyalty is settled... Damn, Peroroncino should have been tied up, had his keyboard taken away, and been escorted to a sex therapist. Writing gothic loli-vampires who hang onto arch-liches with overt sexual desire is... it's a bit MUCH! I mean, it's one thing to watch it in a black-and-white manga picture while lazily scratching your belly, and quite another to witness it in reality, being that very lich!
"What? What nonsense are you talking, Shalltear? How can Lord Momonga be ordinary undead?! He has already reached a reality beyond undead, or even at the level of a God of Undeath," the elf fired up, burning the enjoying vampiress with a malicious, jealous gaze.
"Nevertheless, s-sister, your words were a bit unpleasant," Mare timidly mumbled.
"Ahem," the tomboy frowned concernedly, "fine, let's try again? Well... maybe it smells like rotten dead meat?"
"Yes, that's much better," Shalltear agreed, settling in more comfortably and in doing so opening a view of her chest, which looked quite voluminous, especially for such a "runt." The girl licked her lips and purred. Speaking of "rotten dead meat," to the "sense of smell" (or whatever I have now instead of it) of a lich, the girl smelled very pleasant and seductive. But still, nothing stirred anywhere. "Continue in the same spirit."
"Grrrr," the mistress of the training ground's eye started to twitch.
"It must be hard with such an abnormal sister. It would be better if you left her quickly, Mare, or one fine day you'll become just like her," this embodiment of malicious kawaii continued to press her opponent on all fronts. Damn, they're really creepy to me, but... interesting. I think I'm slowly losing my mind, though it's not clear yet because of what—being undead, Momonga's memories (by the way, where is he himself, I mean, his "self"?), or the beings surrounding me.
"S-shut up! Fake tits!" That was it; the vampire had verbally crushed the elf, so the latter had no choice but to get personal. And considering they were both women...
"W-what nonsense are you talking?!" the gothic loli was stunned and pressed herself even tighter against me.
"You can tell at a glance that your cleavage looks strange. How much different stuff did you stuff in there?" the dark-eared one narrowed her eyes with satisfaction and smirked venomously. "The padding is so high... doesn't it slip when you walk?" That was it; now came the finishing blow. "Exactly! That's why you used a portal! It would have slipped if you'd run!"
"Silence!" the pale face of the red-eyed beauty distorted in a explosive mixture of panic and rage. "You don't have any at all!" Being back on her feet and turning toward the "aggressor," the vampiress tried to counterattack.
"They'll grow soon," Aura stuck her nose up smugly. "I'm only 76 years old. It must be hard being undead without any prospects in that department?"
"Why you little...!!!"
"Girls, am I in your way?" I "released" a bit of mana; it happened almost reflexively. I only had to think about how a being without facial expressions and with a very meager ability to convey intonations via voice could show its... hmmm... emotions, in this case—displeasure.
"P-please accept our deepest apologies, Supreme One!" Both promptly knelt before me and bowed their heads.
"For the first time. In the future, resolve your conflicts without bringing them into public view... and without self-mutilation," I added, catching the promising glares the girls shot at each other. Yeah, this will be much harder than I thought—everyone here is either undead, or a demon, or some other creature from the same cohort, like drow (even if quite cute), which means they are by definition malicious, cruel, and so on, and so forth. If they're ready to jump at each other for any dirty look, what will they do to outsiders? Yeah, the hole is much deeper than I thought. At this rate, as soon as they step outside—bam, exterminatus of all living things around, and then I'll have to live in a desert... yeah, a problem.
Meanwhile, new protagonists appeared from the gates onto the arena. Albedo and Sebas led the way, followed by Cocytus and Demiurge. The first was a ten-foot-tall, beetle-like humanoid with four arms and a white-and-blue exoskeleton covered in ice. The second outwardly resembled an elf, with the exception that he had a prominent metallic tail. He was dressed in an orange three-piece suit and wore glasses.
"It seems everyone is already here," the tailed demon noted as the group approached us. "My apologies for being late."
"It is good that you are here..." right, what else should I say? "Are Victim and Gargantua in place?" I looked at Albedo.
"Yes, Lord," the girl bowed, placing her right hand over her heart. "Gargantua, Guardian of the Fourth Floor of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, and Victim, Guardian of the Eighth Floor, express their respect and ask for forgiveness for their inability to leave their posts."
"Hmm..." memories crawled out from inside again. Gargantua was a golem about thirty meters tall and the only Guardian of Nazarick not created by guild members—it was gifted to them by the Yggdrasil administration for being the first in the world to complete one of the epic events. Victim was essentially a living bomb tied to its location, and at the moment of death, it annihilated everything living on the guarded level—a sort of ultimate defense system in case a raid managed to bypass all the defenses of the first seven floors.
"What are you standing there for?" Misinterpreting my silence in her own way, Albedo stepped forward, shouting authoritatively at the gathered Guardians. "Express your loyalty to your Supreme Overlord!"
"Guardian of the First, Second, and Third Floors, Shalltear Bloodfallen," the vampiress reacted instantly, curtsying and bowing deeply, "bows before the master."
"Guardian of the Fifth Floor, Cocytus," the beetle knelt, "bows before the master."
"Guardian of the Sixth Floor, Aura Bella Fiora..." the dark elf stepped forward.
"A-and another Guardian of the Sixth Floor, Mare Bello Fiore," her brother hurried after her.
"We bow before the master," they finished in unison, kneeling and placing their right hands over their hearts.
"Guardian of the Seventh Floor, Demiurge," the demon in the orange suit stepped into line with the others, "bows before the master."
"Head Butler of Nazarick and leader of the Pleiades," Sebas said, dropping to one knee. "I bow before the Supreme One."
"Guardian Overseer of Nazarick, Albedo." The girl stepped in front of the others and sank down gracefully. "I bow before the Supreme One. Command us, Lord. We are entirely in your power."
Well, the question of loyalty could be considered settled. Apparently, I had inherited everything Momonga had in his story, and despite the change in soul, the inhabitants of Nazarick had not altered their attitude toward the Guild Master. That was good. What was bad was that I didn't really have a plan for what to do next—not in terms of "right now," which was simple enough, but in a global sense. However, I could think about that later; for now, they were waiting for me to speak.
"Excellent. Now, raise your heads and listen to me." The Guardians hastily obeyed, fixing their gazes on me with respectful attention. "An as-of-yet unexplained phenomenon has transported all of Nazarick to unknown lands. We may simply be in another part of the continent, but until there is proof of that, we will assume this is an entirely different world, one capable of posing a threat even to beings of your strength and nature. In light of this, I have several tasks for you." I paused, mentally catching my breath and observing the reaction of my audience. There was none, strictly speaking—the listeners caught my every word with the same hunger and focus as at the beginning. "First and foremost, you must conduct a full census of your subordinates. I must know exactly what forces Nazarick has at its disposal, and if anyone has disappeared, I must know about it most of all."
"It shall be done, Supreme One," Albedo assured in a charming voice, bowing her head once more.
"Second: test your powers and abilities. If you notice any changes, describe and report them in detail. I am particularly interested in how the transition has affected magic. I have found no differences in myself,"—except that in the game, according to my predecessor's memory, one had to click icons, whereas here I literally possessed "muscle" memory for every spell—"but that means nothing. Third: think about a disguise. It may happen that we will have to incognito investigate the society of local inhabitants, who may look like humans or like something entirely different. It will be better if you prepare for this in advance. It is also possible that we will need to camouflage all of Nazarick. And lastly: all floors are to raise their readiness level to repel attacks. Take any intruders alive. That is all for now. I am counting on you."
"Yes, Momonga-sama!" the listeners replied in unison.
Casting a glance over the inspired faces of the once-again-bowing monsters, I realized it was time to end the scene. I gave a silent nod and teleported to the throne room.
"Lord?" The voice coming from behind me was unexpected.
"Ah, Yuri," I recognized the Vice-Captain of the Pleiades Six Stars—or, more simply, the battle maids. In fact, all of them were currently in the hall, drilling me with intrigued looks. "I need to think." I sat on the throne. "You may go about your business, just do not disturb me."
"As you wish, Lord," the girl said, placing a palm over her heart. She was quite pretty, actually—strict glasses, hair pulled into a bun, the gaze of a responsible teacher. She even had a Good alignment, which was an exceptional case for Nazarick. The impression was only spoiled by her hypertrophied, spiked gauntlets and the fact that she was part zombie and dullahan—essentially undead based on the legend of the headless horseman.
In fact, all the Pleiades were quite the little monsters despite their cute appearances. Lupusregina Beta was a werewolf; Narberal Gamma, a doppelganger; CZ2128 Delta, an android; Solution Epsilon, a predatory slime; Entoma Vasilissa Zeta, a man-eating arachnid. In short, in half the cases, they were a nightmare for a healthy heterosexual man. Or a collection of wet fetishes for a chemically-unbalanced pervert...
The emotional knot sparked by these memories was immediately suppressed by that strange force once again, and I decided it best to focus on my future plans.
I hadn't read the light novels, and the released manga chapters ended long before the story reached its conclusion, so my foreknowledge was quite limited and, overall... not too useful. What did the original Momonga do? He just went with the flow, trying with all his might to pass himself off as something he wasn't. And the essence there isn't in knowledge or skills, but in the very attitude toward reality, the volume of life experience, and the scale of personality—the very thinking of an epic arch-lich, whatever he may be, is fundamentally different from the thinking of an office clerk. For Momonga, it was roleplay at a masquerade; he was obsessed with the external attributes, the grand speeches, and the other symbolism of his game persona, but he wasn't even close to the true essence of that persona. Just look at his voyage to the local adventurers' guild. Effectively, the guy just walked down the familiar path of an average gamer, following genre tropes like "go to the bulletin board, take a quest for ten wolves," and so on, without even realizing it. Meanwhile, all the management of the demon city's life—which Nazarick de facto is—happened in spite of his will and almost as if he were being led by the hand. So, knowledge of his adventures was, if not entirely useless, then close to it.
However, one shouldn't be too hard on the guy. Most likely, if I were entirely in his shoes—that is, without the slightest foreknowledge and with his attachment to the guild—I would have behaved in a similar fashion. But that's all academic; the question lies elsewhere. Suppose some of his actions can be adopted, but what will be the primary objective? World domination? Yeah, right. Power for the sake of power has been out of fashion for a long time. Even Morgoth wanted to conquer Middle-earth because he believed he could make it better than the Creator intended, not for the sake of a simple "I'm the boss here!" As for me, I don't really feel an urge to ennoble reality at all costs—I don't feel I have the necessary "scale," so to speak. To be honest, I'd just like to get a normal body back, with the normal capabilities of a living organism. Being an Overlord—as the stage of undead mage development reached by Momonga was called—might be cool, but again, I don't feel like I fit the part.
By the way...
This insane guild must surely have race-change artifacts in its stores! Such obsessed nerds couldn't possibly be without them. At the very least, there should be polymorph charms or something of that sort. Exactly... even the jump from an initiate Skeleton Mage to an Elder Lich doesn't happen without a special artifact. Most of those are limited and applicable only to the evolution of specific races along their possible paths, but there are universal re-rolls too. Given the size of Nazarick's stores, something like that has to be lying around here...
Meanwhile, at the Arena. Immediately after the Guild Master's departure.
Lord Momonga vanished in a flash of magical sparks. For several long seconds that stretched into nearly a minute, the Guardians of Nazarick remained in silent immobility. Finally, Albedo broke the trance and, setting an example, was the first to rise to her feet. The others immediately began to move:
"T-that was terrifying, big sister," Mare shared, clenching his staff convulsively.
"I thought I'd be crushed by that aura!" Aura replied in total delight, standing beside her brother.
"He is peerless," Cocytus agreed, the ground shaking with the movement of his heavy body.
"There he is, Lord Momonga, showing his might as a leader," the winged demoness said dreamily, her hands folded in a prayer-like gesture before her chest.
"It would appear so." Demiurge adjusted his glasses with barely noticeable excitement.
"He has accepted our oath of loyalty," the Fifth Floor Guardian rumbled through his mandibles with undisguised satisfaction.
"When he used magic, he was so cool!" the dark elf continued. "I counted over two hundred spells!"
"T-that is what it's like—the t-true power of Lord Momonga," Mare chimed in.
"It is exactly as you said!" Albedo nearly hopped in place, radiant with happiness. "He answered our desire and showed his true power. As expected of the Lord! Of all the forty-one creators, he stands highest! He is a magnanimous ruler who will protect his land to the end!"
"Then I shall take my leave," the Head Butler caught their attention.
"Ah?" The demoness was slightly thrown off.
"I do not know where Lord Momonga has gone, but it is my duty to be by his side," he explained calmly.
"Sebas, inform me if anything should happen," the Overseer requested, her voice still trembling slightly from emotional agitation. "Especially if Lord Momonga calls for me. I will come to him at once." A blush appeared on Albedo's cheeks. "I don't care what I have to abandon, I will come immediately!" The girl's voice began to take on excited notes, and her eyes developed an unhealthy glint. "But tell Lord Momonga that if I am needed in his bed, I will need time to prepare. I will need to take a bath... But, of course, if he wants me to come immediately..."
"I understand," the butler interrupted firmly, though not a single muscle twitched on his face. "Then I shall take my leave," he repeated and, turning to the others, gave a polite bow. "Guardians."
As everyone watched the back of the Pleiades commander retreating toward the exit, Demiurge noticed that out of everyone gathered, one was still kneeling, her head bowed toward the ground. Part of the demon strategist found everything that had happened a bit strange, but for now, he couldn't quite formulate his feelings. In a certain sense, he was well aware that this was effectively the first meeting of the Floor Guardians since their creation, yet at the same time, his memory held knowledge of them as if they had been acquainted for many years. Such dualism did not make the task easier, but worse yet—his own nature resisted a critical analysis of this knowledge, making the search for the causes of his unease even more difficult. Nevertheless, unable to deal with the root cause of the sensations directly, Demiurge could begin studying the matter indirectly—for example, by asking a direct question to the one behaving most strangely.
"Is something wrong, Shalltear?" The demon's question drew the attention of the other Guardians to the vampiress.
"What has happened, Shalltear?" Cocytus repeated when he also realized the girl still wasn't moving.
"H-his," the vampiress raised her head hesitantly, revealing a flushed face full of embarrassment to the onlookers, "regal presence aroused me so much that I... got a little wet down there."
"U-ah..." A collective sigh of awkwardness from the Guardians hung in the air.
"You slut!" Albedo's indignant half-roar, half-scream thundered over the Colosseum. A pale-purple mist of concentrated mana began to swirl around the Elder Demoness.
"What?!" Bloodfallen bared her teeth instantly. "To feel the power of our unique Lord Momonga—that is a worthy reward!" In the next moment, a dangerous mist appeared over the vampiress's body as well, though hers was blood-red. "A girl who didn't get wet clearly has problems! You big-mouthed gorilla!" she growled, taking a combat stance and slightly growing out her claws.
"And you're a lamprey!" the Overseer retorted, intensifying the energy flow.
"My creator made me this way, and I'm not complaining!"
"Neither am I!!!"
"Aura," the Seventh Floor Guardian, who quickly realized where things were heading, caught the elf's attention. "Let women's problems be solved by women."
"What?!" The tomboy even lowered her ears in surprise. "Demiurge, you're going to leave me alone with these two?!"
"If anything happens, just find me," the demon signaled with a hand in the air as he already strode away from the scene. As a strategist, he was one of the best in Nazarick, but in terms of combat, he was noticeably inferior to most of the other Guardians and had no intention of getting caught in the crossfire.
"Er..." Mare shot an anxious look at his sister, but the next moment he looked at the snarling monsters and realized his sympathy for his sister was losing to his fear, whereupon he quickly hurried after the tailed demon.
"Curse it... was it really necessary to argue so?" Cocytus grumbled, nevertheless also beginning to beat a hasty retreat.
"Cocytus!" the girl cried out at the giant's back with the tone of someone betrayed by their last hope, but he did not turn around...
A minute later, at the other end of the arena.
A crash, accompanied by unhuman screams in two voices, sent up another pillar of dust in the distance. A small figure with a short haircut had entrenched herself a bit to the side, serving as a natural barrier between the furies tearing at each other's hair and the three spectators who had tactically retreated in time, without even realizing it herself.
"How foolish," the beetle-like giant grumbled once again. "What are we waiting here for?"
"Actually, I am interested in the result," Demiurge replied.
"Eh?" Mare was distracted by his voice. Until then, he had been nervously clutching his staff and whispering "big sister" every time Aura's figure came dangerously close to the spiraling debaters.
"This will determine the military power and the future of Nazarick," the demon in the business suit explained readily.
"What do you mean?" the boy asked, confused.
"A great ruler must have an heir, correct?" The Seventh Floor Guardian looked up at the stars. "Lord Momonga stayed with us until the very end, but he could also leave us once he loses interest. So it is very important that he leave an heir behind to pass on his authority."
"So you think one of them," Mare glanced toward the battle, "should give Lord Momonga an heir?"
"Enough!" Cocytus rumbled. "Such thinking is disrespectful to Lord Momonga!"
"Is it so bad if he leaves an heir to whom we can swear our loyalty?" Demiurge turned to him in surprise.
"Well..." The giant froze for a second. "Yes, that would be good... No, it would be wonderful!" The Guardian's upper right hand grabbed his head, which was clearly already filling with fantasies. "What a splendid idea! Aaaah! Uncle!" Cocytus drawled with guttural satisfaction. "And the child will ride on my shoulders..." Driven by his thoughts, the warrior wandered off to the side, joyfully vocalizing the ideas coming to his head.
"Um." Watching him go, Demiurge decided to change the subject. "By the way, Mare, why are you dressed like a girl?" He knew much about the other Guardians, but realized with surprise that he didn't know the answer to this question and hadn't even known about the fact itself until today.
"This..." The boy shyly adjusted his skirt. "Lady Bukubukuchagama made me this way. She said it's called a 'trap,' but I didn't fully understand her. But I am quite sure I am a boy."
"Hmm... Then perhaps all the boys in Nazarick should dress like that?" the demon strategist wondered deeply.
His reflections were interrupted by the sudden silence that fell over the Colosseum.
"Cocytus, come back to earth, please..." Looking at what was happening at the opposite end of the arena, the demon turned to the giant.
"What a beautiful scene," the beetle-like Guardian began to return, holding his head with his upper left hand now, slowly, as if overcoming intoxication. "This is wonderful..."
"Yes, yes, it's magnificent," Demiurge hurried him, heading toward the site of the recent brawl himself. "Albedo, Shalltear, are you still fighting?!" raising his voice, he called out to the women frozen opposite each other. They were still radiating bloodlust, but seemed to have stopped trying to pull each other's hair out and tear their dresses.
"They just finished," a disheveled and slightly dust-covered Aura climbed out of a small crater. "Now they're..."
"We are deciding who will be the legal wife!" the vampiress replied importantly, struggling to catch her breath but trying to look at her rival with superiority.
"It would be strange if the ruler of Nazarick had only one concubine," Albedo agreed with her. "But we must decide which of us will be the legal wife..."
"That is very interesting, of course, but perhaps we should carry out Lord Momonga's orders first?" Something on the edge of Demiurge's consciousness began to whisper again about a surreal quality to everything happening, but he dismissed it as a delay in carrying out the task entrusted by a Supreme Being.
"Yes, you are right." The Overseer calmed down and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Shalltear, we will discuss this another time."
"No problem at all," the miniature vampiress assured with a fake-sweet smile.
"Then," Albedo composed herself completely and addressed the others with utmost seriousness, "let us discuss the plan..."
An hour later. The Treasury.
I was right. In the piles of various legendary and mythical—which, by the standards of this guild, were almost common—artifacts, I managed to find four suitable items: the Amulet of Reincarnation, which allows for a change of character race and class while preserving level and achievements. The Ring of Resurgence, which turns the dead back into the living, stripping away all Undead bonuses and penalties. The Feather of a Fallen Angel, which allows for rebirth as a "Fallen Angel" with all the pros and weaknesses of that race. The Blood of a High Demon, which allows for rebirth as a "Demon Lord," gaining all the pros and cons of that race. And I hadn't even searched half the chests yet. Moreover, during the search, Momonga's memory suggested that the necessary items could also be found in the library among the numerous scrolls and spellbooks.
A little later, sitting on the monumental throne, the Dark Lord—that is, me—was immersed in grim thoughts. There was much to think about, from the artifacts found to those same sacramental questions from earlier. So, re-roll artifacts. Useful little things, and some are even multi-use, not used by their previous owners only for the simple reason that those maniacs were obsessed with their lovingly crafted mutants and didn't want to change them even for "prestige classes" like the angel and demon. I'd do it with pleasure—getting bonuses to Darkness and Light magic from a Fallen, or Darkness and Fire from a Lord, significantly expanding and strengthening my arsenal without losing spells, only some efficiency... it would be wonderful. If not for the fact that I had no idea how my "servants" would take such a move. What if the binding breaks and I suddenly find myself in the very center of a dungeon packed with raid bosses? No acquired perks would save me then, especially since mastering them would surely take time. And from the perspective of building military power, the ability to mass-produce high-tier undead is very tempting. Though for the life of me, I couldn't say why I'd want to build that military power in the first place. Nevertheless, suppose I leave Nazarick and change my race somewhere out there where an immediate revolt of the tomb's Guardians would no longer pose an immediate threat to my organism—what would that lead to? It would lead to all these monsters rampaging in all directions within a week, slaughtering everything living in their path, which would ultimately lead back to the necessity of fighting them. So, thinking rationally instead of following emotions—which I'm getting better and better at—staying in lich form for a while longer is the most correct decision.
But the question remained: what am I even doing here? Ahead lies, apparently, an eternity. Even assuming I get a living body and dive into an orgy with Shalltear, Albedo, and a couple of other pretty demonesses... let's set aside the moral aspect that this would essentially be the corruption of what are practically infants combined with brainwashing them. How much time would I literally f*ck away like that? A month? Two? Fine, let's say a year. And then what? I'd actually go insane here. Say what you will, but man is a social creature, and when everyone around you is a fanatic who views your every gesture as a divine revelation, there is no sociality at all. Study magic? That would be excellent—so many new horizons opening up, and besides... it's Magic! You can't just take it for granted. Maybe in twenty years, but certainly not now. The only problem is what and how to study. The body has mechanical memory—again, what happens to that in a re-roll?—but there's zero understanding of how it all works. Essentially, I haven't moved an inch from "press skill icon—get result." I can turn the steering wheel, but I can't build a different car. I can only hope that Nazarick's numerous books are actually filled with something useful and aren't just fiction and decor. Otherwise... I don't even know. The locals surely could do some magic too, even if primitive from the perspective of the Great Tomb's inhabitants; as a foundation, it would suffice. That is, if I ended up in the same world where the events of the original story took place, which is by no means a given.
However, everything I listed was more or less related to immediate, useful matters—improving tools and sharpening means. The question was about goals. And goals were still nowhere to be seen. Return home? And do what there? An arch-lich or demonic Lord in the ordinary world? Except for staged total exterminatus—giving new meaning to the expression "the specter of communism is haunting Europe." I won't lie, the idea is tempting, but also fleeting.
Fortunately, thoughts of home sparked another idea. If there are at least three worlds, why not try to find a few more? New places, new knowledge, maybe even some pleasant new acquaintances! Now that sounded like a global goal. Yes, to achieve it, I'd have to dive into magic as deep as possible and scout the local situation thoroughly—research and development always eat resources like crazy, and I don't think magic is any different. And in Nazarick, for all its greatness, resources aren't infinite, even if they are indecently vast. Yes, this is definitely something close to the start of a Plan!
My enthusiasm was cooled by the familiar wave of cold, blowing through my brains and putting them back in place. Which, in turn, raised yet another question. A much more unpleasant one this time. How did I end up here? Not just "here" geographically, but at all? What is this entity that could create an arch-lich capable of raising armies of the dead with a careless gesture, a crowd of demons and other monsters—also at a level of "all life on the continent, give up"—and just an abyss of various artifacts that bend reality itself to the whims of their owner? What could it... he... that thing want? What is all this for? What if in the next moment it wants something else and I'm simply dissolved into non-existence? A shiver ran through my body, and the already irritating wave of cold quelled the rising panic. If this "someone" invested so much energy in this "project," it must be for a reason. An alternative: this someone is so powerful that this isn't a particularly big problem or expense for such a being. In the first case, there's no need to worry. The investment will be watched, and we'll see from there. In the second case, we also don't worry. Because it's useless. There's a third option—all this is just a convergence of factors. "Moonlight reflected off the gas film of Mercury, hamsters flew North, and thanks to that, a random fluctuation of Great Chaos manifested an imagined story into reality, feeding the info-field with its power, and I just happened to be passing by and got snagged by this same fluctuation as a subject connected to the info-field." Nonsense? Of course, but I'm ready to believe even crazier things. So, we look for ways to travel to other worlds and simultaneously find out what the hell is going on here on its own. Well, that sounds not so bad. Now, let's decide on specific steps. To paraphrase the classic: to re-roll, or not to re-roll? That is the question...
"Sebas..."
"Yes, Lord Momonga?" Sebas Tian... I mean, Sebastian... his creator simply split a European name in two and pretended it was something clever. Anyway, the Head Butler had managed to return and had been standing as an immovable shadow at the foot of the throne for a long time.
"What have you managed to find out about the state of the inhabitants of the ninth and tenth floors?"
"No disappearances have been found, Lord. All forty-one regular maids, the sixty-seven security golems from the Clavicula Salomonis, the five keepers of the Great Library Ashurbanipal, and all junior staff have confirmed their presence. Currently, Yuri Alpha is compiling a detailed census of all floor inhabitants according to your instructions. The rest of the Pleiades Six Stars, together with the keepers of the Great Library, are busy studying any effects the transition may have had on their magical and physical powers."
"Excellent." The library keepers, then... hmmm... They weren't in the manga, but someone else's memory immediately provided the names: Cocceius, Ulpius, Aelius, Fulvius, and Aurelius—names based on the Five Good Emperors of the Roman Empire, all Level 80 Skeleton Mages. That was why I went digging in the treasury instead of the library—subconsciously, I didn't want to reveal the goal of my search to the local monsters. Though, thinking about it, that's a rather strange thought. A legacy of Momonga?
"Tell me, Sebas, how would you react if I were to change my nature?"
"What are you saying, Lord Momonga?" The gaze of the old man, who was actually a pure-blooded dragonoid, became sharp.
"Liches are not born, as you must know." I rested my head on my hand, watching the butler's reaction. "Mortal mages hungry for knowledge and power sooner or later face the fact that the time allotted to them by nature is running out. There are many ways to cheat death, but rarely does the seeker have a choice between them. I personally became a lich, and so far it has justified itself, however..." I paused to choose the best words. "There are some disadvantages to being undead. While I was pursuing power, they were insignificant, but having achieved everything possible and gained strength enough to turn entire continents to dust, it is quite foolish to feel that you are deprived of the most elementary joys available to any unwashed peasant. To feel the taste of food, the breath of the wind, the warmth of a woman's touch... I have almost forgotten what it is like."
"If that is your desire, then it is my duty to devote all my strength to its realization." Sebas solemnly dropped to one knee, placing his right hand over his heart.
That proved easier than I thought... Only I still have vague suspicions that those words are true only as long as I remain in the body of the bony Guild Master.
"That will not be necessary." I stood up from the throne. "In the time Nazarick has existed, I have found many ways to ensure my rebirth. The problem lies elsewhere... However, this conversation is pointless now. Help Yuri Alpha and the other Floor Guardians carry out my instructions. I will be in the Lesser Chambers of Solomon."
And without waiting for the butler's reply, I teleported to the specified location.