"Master," Vier asked softly as Gazef's figure disappeared into the distance, "why didn't you continue following him? I thought you intended to save him personally."
Lock showed no urgency. His expression remained calm, almost faintly amused.
"Didn't I already send Barker with a ten-man detachment?" he replied. "They will accompany Gazef in pursuit of the enemy."
Vier paused, then frowned slightly. "You anticipated that the Slane Theocracy might still be holding a trump card. If that's the case, there's a chance Gazef won't be saved—and Barker's squad might be lost as well. That kind of gamble doesn't suit you."
She hesitated, then added, "And if your goal was to recruit Gazef Stronoff, why not simply bind him with your soul-sealing magic?"
Lock shook his head.
"I never intended to recruit him."
Vier's eyes widened slightly.
"The Soul Seal only works on those who fear death," Lock continued evenly. "Gazef Stronoff is not such a man. He would offer his life to his king without hesitation. Against someone like that, coercion is meaningless."
Power enforced through fear was fragile. Lock understood this well.
A nation built on terror would rot from within. Those who could not be broken would become its enemies, and those who could would betray it the moment fear weakened.
Vier was silent for a moment, then asked, "Then what was the true purpose of this journey?"
"You'll see soon enough."
Lock raised his hand. Two masks appeared in his grasp. He handed one to Vier.
"Answer me this," he said calmly. "What kind of enemy is the most terrifying?"
Vier thought carefully. "An… unknown enemy?"
Lock's lips curved faintly.
"Correct. An enemy unseen is like a scorpion buried beneath the sand. It strikes when vigilance fades—and its venom is fatal."
He placed the mask over his face. The artifact concealed his features completely, even distorting his voice.
"Now," Lock said quietly, "we become that scorpion."
Wilderness — Slane Theocracy Forward Camp
The Sunlight Scripture stood ready under Nigun Grid Luin's command.
The latest report had arrived. The bait unit had successfully drawn Gazef's forces deeper, and once again, he had split his troops to escort civilians.
Nigun laughed softly.
"Predictable. Pathetic."
He crushed the report in his hand.
"With those beast-riding knights present, it might have been troublesome," he admitted. "But now only a handful remain. This changes nothing."
Each member of the Sunlight Scripture was capable of invoking Angel Summon, a third-tier spell. Against summoned angels, even powerful magical beasts could be restrained.
Once Gazef was isolated, his death was guaranteed.
Nigun's hand brushed against the object hidden beneath his robes.
The Demon-Sealing Crystal.
A sacred treasure entrusted to him by the Chief Priest—capable of calling forth a high-ranking angel beyond ordinary limits.
With this, there could be no failure.
"No human can oppose the will of the gods," Nigun muttered.
His thoughts briefly turned to the mysterious knights and their lord.
"Lock Kote Albert… the Starlight Witch's brother?" He scoffed. "We'll investigate after Gazef is dead. No loose ends."
He did not know—
The bait unit he relied upon was already gone.
Carne Village
Smoke hung low over the ruins.
Soldiers clad in Baharuth Empire armor—Slane Theocracy operatives in disguise—rounded up the remaining villagers: the elderly, the wounded, the children.
They were herded into the square.
Torches were raised.
Heavy footsteps echoed.
One soldier turned—just in time to see a body fly past him.
Another armored man was hurled through the air like a broken doll.
At the village entrance stood a towering figure.
Over two meters tall.
A massive tower shield in its left hand. A cruel, jagged blade in its right.
Black full plate armor covered its body, veins of crimson light pulsing across its surface. Curved horns rose from its helm. Beneath the visor, a rotting face stared out with empty, merciless eyes.
An undead.
A Death Knight.
It moved.
The shield swung.
Another soldier was sent flying more than seven meters, crashing lifelessly into the ground.
Panic erupted.
"Run—!"
One man broke formation and fled.
The Death Knight surged forward with terrifying speed. Its blade swept once.
The fleeing soldier was cleaved in half. Blood and viscera were scattered across the dirt.
The Death Knight roared—low, triumphant.
Resistance collapsed.
Steel rang briefly, then fell silent. One by one, the soldiers died, until only four remained—trembling, weapons shaking in their hands.
"Enough."
The voice descended from above.
The Death Knight halted instantly.
Two figures floated down.
One wore a strange mask and black robes, his presence cold and oppressive. Behind him stood a woman in full plate armor, a massive axe resting easily in her grip.
"Greetings," the masked figure said calmly.
"My name is Ainz Ooal Gown."
The four soldiers dropped their weapons without hesitation.
Ainz regarded them in silence.
"I will spare your lives," he said at last. "Return to your masters. Tell them this."
His voice hardened.
"Do not bring chaos to this land again. If you do, your nation will be erased."
The most terrifying enemy is not the one you see.
It is the one you never knew had already arrived.
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