When they realized they would be spared, the four surviving soldiers froze—then joy and terror surged together.
They dared not look back.
The Death Knight stood motionless behind them, its massive presence like a guillotine suspended in the air. Fear drove them faster than reason. They fled toward the outskirts of the village, stumbling over corpses and rubble, desperate to escape before the Undead ruler changed his mind.
Their captain was dead. Their vice-captain was dead.
Yet they—mere expendable soldiers—had lived.
To them, it was nothing short of divine mercy.
Ainz did not spare them another glance.
Instead, he turned his attention to the villagers.
They did not cheer.
They did not kneel.
Confusion, fear, and numb disbelief filled their faces.
The Death Knight's presence weighed heavily on them. It was an Undead—something that should not exist. Worse still, several of the fallen soldiers had already begun to rise again as crude undead under its passive influence. Even salvation carried terror with it.
Ainz approached slowly, careful to soften his tone.
"You are safe now."
His words were simple, restrained.
An elderly man—likely the village chief—stepped forward. His gaze flickered repeatedly toward the Death Knight before returning to Ainz.
"W-Who… are you?"
"I saw this village under attack," Ainz replied evenly. "So I intervened."
The explanation was vague, but it was enough.
Relief spread—slowly, hesitantly. When Ainz made no demands beyond simple supplies and information, fear gave way to gratitude.
Thus, Ainz Ooal Gown made his first deliberate contact with the intelligent inhabitants of this world.
From the fragmented conversation, he learned the essentials:
This was Carne Village, territory of the Re-Estize Kingdom.
To the southwest lay E-Rantel, a fortified border city.
Beyond the Kingdom were the Baharuth Empire and the Slane Theocracy.
The attackers wore Imperial armor—but appearances meant little in war.
I should have kept prisoners, Ainz thought, faintly annoyed at himself. Information has value.
Still, the encounter had served its purpose. Nazarick had taken its first step into the world—quietly, deliberately.
Not far away, another ruined village smoldered.
The Royal Direct Guard and adventurers worked among the wreckage, pulling survivors from collapsed buildings. Groans, sobs, and the smell of ash filled the air.
"Warrior Captain," Barker said calmly, "we will escort these villagers back to E-Rantel."
Gazef nodded. "I entrust them to you."
With Lock gone, Gazef found it easier to speak with the Tiger Knights. They were powerful—but at least they were not nobles. The invisible weight of hierarchy eased, if only slightly.
Barker departed with his detachment, Tiger Knights, and a handful of adventurers guarding the refugees.
When they vanished into the distance, Gazef stood still for a moment.
Now, only his sixty men remained.
The support Lock had provided was gone—completely.
Strangely, Gazef felt relief.
He had never been able to determine whether those Knights were allies… or something far more dangerous. Their departure meant one less uncertainty at his side.
Perhaps the Baron truly had no ill intent, Gazef thought. Then the intelligence was real…
Which meant the danger ahead was real as well.
"The true battle begins now," he murmured.
High above, unseen.
Vier hovered in the air, concealed by layered magic. Below, Gazef's unit reorganized and resumed pursuit.
"Master," Vier reported softly, "Barker and his men have withdrawn."
She hesitated. "Then… why send them at all?"
Lock watched calmly, his expression unreadable.
"They've already fulfilled their role."
To the people of this world, the Tiger Knight Order was a terrifying military force—enough to alarm kings and great nobles alike.
To Ainz Ooal Gown, however, they were merely… adequate.
If Lock wanted to truly shake Nazarick, to force that cautious undead ruler into deeper paranoia, this would not be enough.
To frighten Ainz, Lock would need to act personally.
Not to destroy.
Not to conquer.
But to reveal.
Power, displayed just enough to be seen—never enough to be understood.
Ainz, ignorant of this world and prone to overthinking, would retreat further into caution. Nazarick's NPCs would restrain themselves. Especially that demon strategist—too noisy, too dangerous.
One day, I'll silence him, Lock thought calmly.
"For now," he continued, "we follow Gazef."
Vier nodded.
"He is bait. And the prey he draws… is what I want."
Back in Carne Village.
Ainz stood quietly as villagers mourned their dead. Wails echoed through the ruined streets.
Hidden within his sleeve, his fingers brushed against a short staff.
Unassuming.
Plain.
Yet it possessed the authority to reverse death itself.
The Staff of Resurrection.
With it, he could restore every fallen villager. Nazarick had more than enough resources to spare.
But Ainz did nothing.
Using such power would invite attention. Fear. Investigation. With so little knowledge of this world, discretion was survival.
He returned the staff to storage.
Saving them was already more than enough.
To give more… would be dangerous.
And in this world, danger was something Ainz Ooal Gown would never accept lightly.
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