The ever-quiet palace of Northern Roble was experiencing its busiest period to date. Ever since Calca had ascended to the throne, she'd weeded out the corrupt court-nobles and politicians on the advice of her father after his formal abdication. Of course, it was impossible to purge them all from Northern Roble, but her palace itself was a simple matter to accomplish. It was her property by right, and as the newly established Queen, it was up to her to decide her chambermaids and palace advisors. She chose but a scant few that had helped cloth and raised her during her childhood. All of them were trustworthy, and she'd even prepared accommodations for Remedios and Kelart.

With such a small amount of personnel, the palace of Northern Roble was often quiet and subdued with hardly any ballroom parties were Calca could build up her business connections. She was seen as a hardworking and earnest ruler by her people, but in the higher circles of society, she was something of a recluse. Advised by no one else but Kelart and Remedios a majority of the time, could it really be strange that vindictive rumours began to circulate?

Calca, Kelart, and Remedios had resigned themselves to experiencing the joys of dating after they'd settled the kingdoms affairs and eliminated the source of the Kingdom's rumours.

-And then walked in Lancelot and the others in a time of peace.

Everything changed.

The quiet tranquility of the Northern palace was utterly ruined, and the talks with Camelot's dignitaries were forced into delay.

All that everyone could do was wait.

Within the palace of Northern Roble, Shirou was doing his best to remain polite, but he was dealing with the fifth maid who claimed to have tripped by 'accident' into his arms while attending to him in a guest room. Of course, he'd insisted that he didn't need a maid in the first place, but he couldn't outright refuse the goodwill of a sovereign either.

He hoped that Lancelot and the others were having a better time than him, but knowing their appearance, they probably having a worse time.

"Uhm, ugh, m-my apologies, S-Sir Knight," the maid desperately tried to fix her hair into a bun and make herself presentable. However, it was difficult, as the manner in which she'd fallen had torn the back section of her uniform.

In response, Shirou could hardly chastise her because of the five maids that had 'coincidently' fallen onto him, the fifth maid actually looked like an accident and was on the verge of tears. Accident it may have been, but there was no denying that just like the other maids, this maid appeared taken by Shirou's appearance and his easy-going demeanor. She blanked, a flush forming over her face as Shirou kindly maintained eye-contact and didn't allow his gaze to wander.

"Ah," the maid gasped before pursing her lips at Shirou's show of character. He was both handsome and considerate. For a moment, the maid forgot that she was still straddling Shirou from when she'd fallen and pushed him off balance along with her.

It was with a carefully neutral expression that Shirou helped the maid off of him and buttoned up her blouse a little higher to cover her exposed cleavage which had been partially exposed after her fall.

"…" The maid tried and failed to form any words, and instead became demure to the point she couldn't keep her gaze away from the ground in her embarrassment.

A cough echoed in the room, and suddenly, the maid found herself being quickly escorted out by an exasperated Shirou who was carefully looking behind in order to do damage control.

Shirou was not alone in his guest room. As arranged by Calca, each guest room accommodated two people, and Shirou was sharing the room with Mordred who opted to stay with him. When asked why, it was because she'd been entrusted by Arturia with a certain mission to keep away harlots.

Mordred did not explicitly explain this reason to Shirou.

The irony of the situation was that Lancelot and the others had also been instructed by Arturia to keep Mordred at a certain distance away from Shirou.

Regardless of hidden orders, Mordred had already reached her tipping point by the fourth maid, and Shirou feared that Mordred would act out even if the fifth maid's fall was actually accidental. It didn't help that Mordred kept comparing her bust size to each additional maid only to grow more and more defeated. In her mind, the fifth maid's G-cup was treason to all flat-chesters.

"Mordred," Shirou said flatly after politely closing the guest room's door on the fifth maid. "Put the sword down."

The clinking of a sword sheathing resounded as Mordred grumbled irritably. She wasn't wearing her helmet, and her wheat-blond hair was tied up into a small and messy pony tail. Wearing armour in a guest-room setting was excessive, so she'd opted to change into her leisure wear. It consisted of a red tub-top, tasset belt cloth, black stockings, and crimson heels.

Shirou didn't even know where she'd gotten such revealing clothes from since he only ever remembered making her with armour on. It was a mystery that was clearly tied into the one he'd been contemplating in his mind, but it would need further proof before he could come to a definite answer.

Shirou stared at Mordred's attire, and without even thinking, he grabbed a blanket and draped it around her shoulders.

Stunned, Mordred's face flushed as she had the impulse to pull the blanket off, but faltered when Shirou sat next to her and ruffled her hair. "Don't you dare wear that in public. You may attract unwanted attention, and I don't wish to get violent unless necessary." Left unsaid, but Mordred was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, but this eluded her.

It was called selective hearing, and everyone did it at least once or twice in life.

Mordred paused, her mind grinding to a halt.

Was Shirou worried about her? Or was he worried about her starting a massacre?

Glancing carefully up at Shirou's face, Mordred saw mirth hidden behind genuine concern, and it warmed her when she considered how alone she'd always felt in her memories despite being surrounded by fellow Knights.

Caught up in her thoughts that Mordred was sure were never programmed into her database, she grinned childishly from out of view while indulging in a sudden bout of contentment. Rather than throw the blanket off, she instead grasped its edges tightly with her hands. She kept it firmly wrapped around her and hoped that Shirou wouldn't notice the heat rising to her cheeks. She wanted to appreciate the sentiment and its warmth while it lasted.

Shirou was more than willing to let Mordred have some time to relax. After all, he'd been feeling troubled all morning.

Quite frankly, Shirou knew something was wrong. It was a gut feeling made worse when he considered the recent elusive actions of his created NPCs. They avoided the subject of the Mausoleum's activities like the plague, and worse, Arturia was in on it too. Easy as it was to bribe her with food, Arturia could be the most stubborn and adamant when she wanted to be.

Shirou had convinced himself that he didn't need to know if even Arturia was keeping it away from him, but he was getting a bad feeling. As the creator of all the Mausoleum's NPCs, he generally had an administrative page to keep track of his NPCs. As they were generally used by players for boss battles and raids, he was used to them dying on occasion.

However, when the prompt that alerted him to view his administrative panel appeared before him in the New World, it was definite proof that what his NPCs weren't telling him was dangerous.

While Mordred was content to remain silent and relax for a minute longer, Shirou used the time to check his notification, and abruptly stilled when a semi-transparent screen revealed a faded name to him.

[Cu Chulainn. x]

Shirou's eyes widened in disbelief. He knew what the faded and crossed off symbol meant for any of his NPCs.

Death.

No way. It was hard for Shirou to believe at first. Cu of all people was one of the most difficult NPCs to kill, as his survivability trumped many in the Mausoleum.

Cu's been killed?

The implications of this fact weren't lost on Shirou's mind. The secret Arturia and the rest were trying to hide from him was clearly too big of a matter to keep hidden. Cu was the first to die without Shirou's knowledge.

Shirou would be a fool to believe that everything was fine at this point and do nothing. It just wasn't in his personality.

-And suddenly, a shiver travelled down Mordred's back. She looked up at Shirou and felt her mouth suddenly dry as an ominous feeling assailed her. "Whatcha want?" She tried to remain nonchalant despite the stern gaze that was leveled in her direction. Inwardly, she was growing nervous.

What did Shirou want? Well, Shirou wanted a lot of things, but his first priority was not to search for answers.

If YYGDRASIL's mechanics still held true, then rather than grow vengeful at Cu's death, he'd rather focus on the topic of revival. If he couldn't bring Cu back, then it would mean that Shirou would stop at nothing to prevent any of his NPCs from dying. He'd created and gotten to know all of them by heart. He would not allow them to die without the chance to live a full life.

There was only one thing in Shirou mind. A universal commodity amidst all players of YGGDRASIL.

Gold.

In hindsight, Shirou had probably been stupid to defer to lore and house all gathered valuables in a single location, but he'd never planned on his NPCs gaining sentience.

Still, if it was a walking treasury, there could only be one.

"Where is Gilgamesh?" He asked solemnly.

Mordred's mouth opened then closed, swirls forming over her eyes as she didn't dare say what she already knew. She fidgeted under Shirou's gaze, resisting the urge to thrash out and solve her problems with violence. She was never eloquent with words, and hated liars even more. This was to say, she was shit at lying herself.

Mordred knew that the Golden King was out with Enkidu, and like the selfish man he was, there was no way to contact him unless Gilgamesh wished to be contacted.

A King's leisure was not to be interrupted.

Mordred threw off the blanket around her shoulders and stiffly made her way towards the door of the guest room under Shirou's scrutiny. Like hell she could tell him the truth! Not when Shirou looked so serious.

Mordred was trying to run away. Flustered, she wasn't paying attention to what was in front of her as she bolted out of the room.

Shirou followed silently.

Stop. Don't look at me like that, Mordred was quickly reaching her limit. Growing frustrated, she walked too quickly and abruotly crashed into a castle wall and shattered it with her strength parameter.

"I-It seems the castle defences are too weak," Blinking, Mordred hurriedly attempted to extricate herself from the situation. "I'll let the Queen know-bye!" She tried to run away again, not bothering to look behind her in her haste.

A hand clamped down on Mordred's shoulder before she could even run. At first, Mordred thought it was Shirou and was ready to make all manner of flimsy excuses, but glowered when she noticed it was Lancelot. She shrugged his hand off, but paled a second later before fury erupted within her.

"If you're looking for the Queen, she's right here?" Lancelot offered courteously. In her attempt to run, Mordred had garnered the attention of Lancelot and the others who were staying in guest rooms just down the hall. The problem was, Lancelot did not come to investigate the disturbance alone.

"I'll snap your legs." Mordred hissed under her breath. Beneath her shadowed bangs, she looked on the verge of pulling out her hair. The goddamned bastard! Why did he bring the Queen here of all places?

Calca who was trailing behind Lancelot coughed into her hand and acted as if she and Lancelot had coincidently been on the same path. Needless to say, Kelart and Remedios were not around because they'd gone for different men. Remedios was sparring with Gawain, and Kelart was trying to obtain Bedivere's attention.

Hearing that Mordred needed her, Calca stepped up and made herself as alluring as she thought possible. "You had something, you needed me fo…" Calca trailed off. Her composed expression quickly falling as she gawked at the man-shaped hole Mordred had left on the fortified castle wall.

"There's a breach in the wall," Mordred said hollowly as she felt Shirou's hand clamp down on her shoulder. Well, shit.

She wasn't going to be able to get away anymore, and it was only then that Lancelot noticed the situation for what it was; however, he could no longer intervene. From the tightness of Shirou's features, he was clearly getting suspicious of them and what they were hiding.

"If you'll excuse us," Shirou said politely to Calca while dragging a defeated Mordred away to a more private setting.

In this moment, Mordred and Lancelot shared a look.

'Fuck you.' One mouthed.

'My condolences.' The other nodded his head.

There was talk in the town of E-Rantel about a blue-clad spearman that had annihilated an entire army of undead single-handedly. The man was apparently a priest who took care and fed the people of the slums while acting as a foster father to the children living in an abandoned church.

Gazef Stronoff could not have been anymore curious about the rumours. He'd never heard of a warrior described as a priest in the same sentence, and his level of intrigue only continued to increase in his time waiting to resupply his platoon in E-Rantel.

Gazef and his unit of men had just come from a small and remote settlement known as Carne Village where they'd survived a Slane Theocracy ambush. Low on supplies and food, they'd stayed in E-Rantel for two days already in order to not rush those that they were imposing on. It was almost time for the winter season and the farmers were beginning to stockpile their harvest.

Gazef was just thankful that some farmers and tradesmen were still willing to part with their wares considering the coming cold fronts next season.

"We'll be set to leave in another four hours," Gazef's aide informed him. Said aide was tall and lanky, but on recommendation by the King, Gazef had taken him along due to his statistical prowess.

It was the aide that had calculated that they would not have enough supplies to travel from E-Rantel to Re-Estize, the heart of the Re-Estize Kingdom.

"Good work," Gazef complimented while patting the young lad on the back. "It'll feel good to be back home after such a long time."

The aide smiled in agreement before leaving and sharing the good news to the rest of the men and women in the platoon.

Gazef saw the information differently. He only had four hours to at least try and meet E-Rantel's eccentric blue-clad Spearman.

Gazef opted to try going to the Adventurer's Guild House first, but he'd heard that E-Rantel's Adventurer Guild members had belittled the spearman enough to piss said individual off. At the time, they didn't know how strong the spearman actually was, and had blundered by turning him away. E-Rantel had lost a capable adventurer, but at least they still managed to obtain a new adventurer team by the name of Darkness.

Gazef had no interest in Darkness's members, as he'd only heard of the name due to the whispers about how rich Darkness was to fully equip a man in lustrous black armour. Well, whatever.

Gazef placed a hand beneath his scruffy chin before waving off to his men that he was going off to town on his own. "I'll make sure to be back in three hours," he promised. It would take a full hour to ready everyone for the journey, and he wanted to be back in time to help.

"Don't worry about us!" His aide called out. "You can even take the full four hours. We promise we'll get everything ready, captain!"

Gazef widened his eyes in surprise before grinning to himself. He scratched the back of his head and inwardly resolved himself to get back at exactly three hours. He would never take advantage of his men's kindness. This was a core part of any team.

Gazef was a stern and burly-looking man. He wore a plate vest and brown padded breaches with a belt looped at the waist attached to his steel tasset. His casual actions helped him to be more relatable despite his serious visage.

"Now then," he said to himself. "The slums it is."

Gazef began walking while keeping his eyes open. The slums were the prime location to search for E-Rantel's mysterious spearman and Slayer of Undead. Where else would the spearman be if not for the place he was initially sighted?

Gazef passed quietly through E-Rantel's streets. Vendors and employees called out to him in order to hawk their wares, but he showed no interest. They were only calling out to him due to his armour and the assumption that he was rich while ignoring the poor. The observation greatly reduced Gazef's affinity with them.

Hard as it was to believe with Gazef's current status, but he'd used to be nothing more than a commoner before the King of Re-Estize noticed his talent with the sword and recruited him. His life was forever changed, but that didn't mean he'd forgotten how rotten society could be.

As Gazef made his way past E-Rantel's market area and towards the slums, it was evident that the sanitation and accommodations were deteriorating.

City management only cared for where money was generated. The slums were always something of a sunk investment. No matter how much money was put in, it didn't guarantee definite returns. The merchants which brought their products and commercial abilities to catalyse the economic growth of an area avoided the slums. Without the merchants, no money would flow, and without money, infrastructure and standard of living plummeted.

It was a harsh cycle, but this was the nature of a caste system with the rich and nobility on top, and the commoners on the bottom.

Gazef sighed. He had a long way to go if he was ever going to be able to influence the King enough to change the current status quo.

Within minutes, Gazef reached the heart of the slums, and paused in genuine surprise.

The people were smiling, many no longer gaunt or malnourished as Gazef remembered them to be the last time that he'd paid E-Rantel's slum a visit.

"Why can't it reach noon, sooner?" An elder citizen sighed within Gazef's ear-shot. "I heard they were giving out wild-boar meat again today."

Food drives? Gazef struggled to wrap his mind around what was going on. In any Kingdom, the slums were generally left alone; the smell and filthy appearance of those in rags enough to cause even those with good intentions to not dare enter in fear of getting robbed.

Gazef supposed he'd just have to find out. There was another two hours until noon, and he wanted to see just who it was that was lifting the spirits of those that society had abandoned.

Gazef did not wait for long. Hell, he didn't even wait at all. Scrounging for information on the street, he found the place where the food was supposed to be handed out and began observing from there.

Since when did the people of E-Rantel's slums learn how to hunt beasts?

Gazef was quickly able to determine the tell-tale signs of an experienced hunter. Bleeding tools had been spread around the food distribution area, and there were tusk markings in the dirt that did not appear natural. They formed a trail into the forest near the slums as if the Hunter's body was too short while carrying a hunted animal.

Gazef's interest grew all the more as he listened to the passing conversations around him.

"Those two have been working hard."

"When will Father Cu return?"

"Idiot, you can't expect someone as gracious as Father Cu to hunt for us forever. He probably moved onto help the other slums nearby, or is hunting for a feast in the forest."

Father Cu? A peculiar name, Gazef noted. Based on how thankful the residents of the slums sounded, could this 'Father Cu' be the spearman he was looking for?

It was worth a shot.

Without hesitation, Gazef walked into the forest while following the drag marks on the ground. An hour later, and he found himself staring transfixed at a tiny pair of brother and sister squaring off against a magic boar six times their size with nothing else but spears.

At first, Gazef was urged by his sense of justice to help, but froze mid-stride when the two children released such feral bloodlust that even the boar seemed startled. A red aura enveloped them at the actualization of some sort of Skill, or Martial Art.

Whatever it was, it was dangerous. Pressure manifested in the air in the form of crippling tension.

Spear and mind as one.

They seemed like feral hounds. It was in their positioning. Their bodies leaned forward, and spears held tightly in both hands. They were expressionless, cold, and alight with the adrenaline of battle.

There can be no escape. No retreat.

Doing so was a dishonour.

Like wolves, they would fight even if it meant fighting alone. It was that simple. Yet it was with this same realization that Gazef became stunned that such an advanced warrior mentality had been fostered within children.

When the children moved, Gazef could no longer distinguish between hunter and hunted.

In the forest and the plains of a distant land, the expertise of a lonely woman's spear art taught by a wayward student was finally at fruition.

With strength stride forward.

With heart, know no fear and accept all challenges.

[The Rune Witch's Spearmanship.]

The two children were a blur, a meshwork of clattering steel and snapping bones as they fought. Gazef wasn't even watching their techniques at this point. Instead, all he could focus on was the terror in the magic boar's eyes even as it buffed itself with its innate magic.

Yet, regardless, the spear pierced through all.

With a shudder, the boar collapsed as both children stabbed it through the heart, a shower of blood and gore dying their clothes and faces red.

Were those two really children? The answer was, yes.

How could they not be when the little girl burst out with a heartfelt grin and began happily chanting 'Meat, we're eating meat today! Papa Cu says meat makes us strong!' The brother in comparison was laughing while ruffling his younger sister's hair.

All that Gazef could focus on from thereafter was that two children had just taken down such a large boar on their own. Like him, their talent would clearly be wasted if they spent the rest of their lives neglected in the slums.

Gazef had went into the woods looking for blue-clad spearman, but he found two spear proteges instead.

He couldn't let such talent go to waste especially because they were part of the Re-Estize Kingdom as a citizen.

Crunching loudly on the leaves beneath his soles to make his presence known, Gazef stepped forward within view.

The two children tensed at his presence immediately, and suddenly Gazef knew that the two combined could probably give him a run for his money, as they took hold of their spears. His instincts had never been wrong, and he wasn't about to doubt them now. He had to diffuse the situation.

"My name is Gazef Stronoff," he introduced, hoping that the two had heard of his name and reputation as the King's bodyguard. No such luck.

The two just stared at him warier, as his armour made him to be someone of high-status. If the two were slum-raised as Gazef expected, then they must hate nobility and those born into riches.

"I mean no harm and was actually just passing by until I saw you two. Would you like to talk?" Gazef tried a different approach and went as far as to toss his sword to the ground.

Unarmed and evidently not looking for a fight, the two children glanced at each other before putting aside their spears.

"What do you want?" The brother called out while pushing the younger sister behind him. A muttered 'Chris' from the girl gave away the older brother's name. "Charlotte, stop. Let me handle this."

Charlotte pinched Chris's back in her frustration but relented. She could be just as strong as her brother, but she conceded that he was probably better at articulating words.

Staring at the two, Gazef realized that Chris and Charlotte were too mature for kids of their age. He could only imagine what sort of hardships they'd faced.

"How would the two of you like to come to the capital?" Gazef asked bluntly. He got a blunt answer back in return, although with a twist he wasn't expecting.

"No," Chris answer, but Charlotte was the one who elaborated, unable to keep her mouth shut. "We're not leaving. This is the only place Papa Cu knows to find us."

Gazef raised a brow. There it was again. That same name he'd been hearing all day.

"This Papa Cu," Gazef inquired slowly. "He's the one who taught you both how to use a spear?"

"Yes," the two spoke without hesitation.

At this point, Gazef was all but certain that 'Cu' was the spearman that he was looking for. However, based on what Charlotte had just said, it appeared as if Cu had already left the area. How unfortunate, but at least he'd stumbled upon Chris and Charlotte for his efforts.

He felt a little embarrassed for tying to recruit someone else's students, but they'd be a boon for the Kingdom. Besides, he could always apologize to Cu at another point.

"If you're worried that Cu can't find you again, then why don't you build up a reputation that he can't help but be able to hear across the entire Kingdom?" Gazef suggested, much to Chris and Charlotte's surprise. They'd obviously never considered such an option.

Chris hesitated, but Charlotte was all but decided when Gazef goaded her and touched upon her life goal.

"Do you not want to do Cu proud?"

Charlotte looked hard at Chris before her brother caved.

For Papa Cu.

This couldn't be happening. This could not be happening.

Hidden out of sight from the rest of the New World, an undead mausoleum was in the midst of a subdued chaos. No one was speaking within a lavishly decorated throne room, but the solemn silence was enough to indicate the gravity of the situation. Demiurge, Albedo, and all the present Floor Guardians of the Great Tomb of Nazarick dared not raze their heads. Aura the dark-elf tried to lift her spirits, but even her normal exuberance could do nothing to ease the tension.

Narberal and the rest of the Pleiades stood in line with Sebas inclining his head at the front. For what it was worth, Narberal knew when she'd made a mistake. It was her blunder that had caused the enemy to infiltrate into the Great Tomb, and although Ainz insisted that what had occurred was nothing more than a tragic act of recklessness, it didn't make the loss of a Floor Guardian feel any better.

A red carpet was rolled down the center of the room starting from the foot of a stone throne where a robed lich lay seated in the silence. Jeweled fingers were bawled into tight fists, and the glowing orb located at the center of the lich's chest flickered violently in the low lighting.

For the first time in his experience in this new world, Ainz could barely contain his fury despite the emotional inhibitor his class granted him. It took everything he had not to break out of character and begin cursing at the situation.

Cocytus was gone.

Fiery flames flickered within pitch-black sockets, the tongues of fire-like energy carrying an otherworldly presence.

"Gather the Gold," Ainz instructed sternly. He was doing his best not to appear agitated, but even he noticed how clipped his voice sounded. Albedo and the others flinched much to Ainz's dismay. His anger was not directed at them, it was mainly at himself.

In the end, Cu had died, but he'd failed to stop Cocytus from moving within Cu's strike range.

He should have known better. Regret was causing Ainz no small amount of grief.

In turn, Albedo and the others seemed to sense Ainz's mood, and were feeling just as much regret if not more than Ainz for failing their Lord's expectations.

"By your order," Albedo bowed and quickly left the room to gather the gold if only to help ease her anxiety. No NPC of Nazarick could tolerate just thinking that Ainz was disappointed in them and their capabilities. Even the ever-composed Demiurge was uncharacteristically disconcerted.

Mare looked like he was going to cry, but was valiantly holding his tears back.

Shalltear Bloodfallen, the only Floor Guardian away from Nazarick, was spared from the depressing mood.

Not wasting a single second, Albedo soon returned with a pile of Gold which she placed in front of Ainz before reservedly falling back in line with Demiurge and the rest.

Ainz raised his hand and began the resurrection procedure.

In YGGDRASIL, all created NPCs could be resurrected if one had enough Gold. The process was often expensive, and not something most-lower-ranked Guilds could afford; however, the Great Tomb of Nazarick was not some low-rank Guild. It should have had enough funds to resurrect a defeated NPC, but the situation was different.

The gold melted and condensed, the viscous fluid taking on the shape of Cocytus's figure.

Regardless, Ainz could not even begin to feel relieved. Just as Cocytus manifested from death, phantom chains that flickered in and out of existence bound and seared his limbs. A pained grunt escaped Cocytus's mandibles, as Albedo and the other Floor Guardians stood rooted in place.

"What is that?" Aura asked softly.

No one answered, but the frostiness of Ainz's gaze spoke volumes.

[Curse of DunScaith.]

A notification appeared just like Ainz had expected. In YGGDRASIL's Land of Shadows, players killed by Gae Bolg during a raid would receive this status debuff due to Gae Bolg's curse. Generally, it would inflict wounds that would not heal through magical means, but when Cu fought on behalf of the Land of Shadows, his spear acted as a doorway, a proxy to the Gate of Skye. The curse cut all skills and physical conditions by over half, effectively crippling those affected.

Cocytus, though revived, quickly fell into a heap as he struggled to adjust to his reduced parameters.

Aura and Mare were the quickest to catch Cocytus, but neither of the two were prepared to see just how affected Cocytus was. Cocytus was a Warrior. His life ratings and resistances should have been far higher than both Mare and Aura, but right now, it felt as if a mid-rank undead skeleton could kill him.

"L-Lord Ainz," Mare stuttered.

"This is wrong! Something's wrong!" Aura was more vocal.

The faces Demiurge and Albedo made when they themselves examined Cocytus's condition looked furious and aggrieved. However, none were more aggrieved than Ainz himself.

Everyone took one look at Ainz, and subsequently decided to leave their Lord alone while carrying Cocytus off in order for him to rest.

Once the throne room had been cleared, a shattering noise resounded as Ainz let out a silent scream. He'd slammed his fist onto the arm-rest of his throne and pulverised the entire structure with a wave of turbulent magical energy.

"Cu, you bastard!" Ainz seethed. The Curse of DunScaith bound its recipient to something called the Gate of Skye.

There was only a single method Ainz had available to lift the curse as he didn't possess any holy cleansing items.

Eliminate the Guardian of the Gate.

'This can't be happening!' Ainz had the urge to punch something. He'd wanted to bide his time and get a better grasp of the situation, but his hands were being forced. He had to think, to plan.

"Scathatch, Guardian of the Land of Shadows," he reviewed what he knew of in his mind.

Open confrontation was impossible. Not for him and those with Undead or Divine alignments. She was insanely skilled and her attack patterns were damn-near unpredictable. Her arsenal included Rune Mastery, and she was on a higher league than Cu.

Wasn't this just impossible?

Ainz could recall that the moment when Scathatch was first defeated in a raid, no one had believed it until the Curse of DunScaith had been lifted from player accounts. He could do this. She'd been defeated before.

Instead of believing he had no chance at victory, Ainz decided to focus on his advantages. Not only did he have battle information and experience against Scathatch, but it had to be said that YGGDRASIL's raid parameters no longer applied.

If a fifty-man raid made it difficult to defeat a boss, then what if a max-limit-cap no longer existed? Of course, he was well aware that beyond a certain level threshold, low-leveled combatants posed no danger to high-levels; however, perhaps he could bypass this restriction by focusing on both quality and quantity.

He was an Overlord, a Lich carrying the power to build a necropolis of Undead. He'd bring an army of top-tier undead, and if that wasn't enough, he'd bring more and more! No one was invincible at the face of an unending army that never tired or grew hungry. Creating them through his own mana would be too much of a drain on his reserves, but the New World was teeming with an abundance of life. The stronger the base material, the better the end result. He would focus on hunting down skilled individuals.

Ainz began pacing while considering the geography around him.

Carne Village was out of the question because he was using it as a sort of base of operations, a platform of sorts that could ease people's thoughts on his undead appearance.

Then what about the Baharuth Empire, perhaps he could use the people there?

Morality aside, the Baharuth Empire was definitely the most practical. The bodies harvested could also be used as materials to see whether or not it was possible to recreate items from YGGDRASIL.

Ainz was not a person who would lightly make such a decision on good conscience. In fact, he liked to think of himself as friendly, if just a tad lacking in self-confidence. He wouldn't, and shouldn't kill needlessly, but what if there was a premise? A battleground where it was justified to kill the enemies on the opposite side enmass? Wasn't that perfect? He could harvest thousands of new undead at a time. He could even use the corpses of fallen allies to bolster his undead army's numbers.

The scary part was that Ainz was not feeling any remorse despite considering large-scale slaughter just to kill a single adversary.

This was personal, and for the sake of the Floor Guardians he viewed as his precious children and companions, no price was too great.

The ominous aura of an Overlord exuded off of him in waves.

It reeked of death and ruin twisted within a rising shadow that induced despair.

Glory to Ainz Ooal Gown.

Thanks for reading! And thanks to my newest patrons: Kiefel C, Qian Y, Savier S, Hat of Bacon, Albi, Crudack D, and Restia E!

Next update: Vasto of White

P a treon. com (slash) Parcasious

If you want to leave a review and feedback for the book, go here: Fatedlegacydark. ca (Amazon requires 50$ worth of purchases and google reviews is currently down. That being said, I wanted to at least know what people who bought the book think of the book)

Milestone Announcement: My first book has been published on Amazon's Kindle website! It's called 'Fated Legacy: Dark' (Author Name: Parcasious Grace)

-There are sample chapters able to be read on my Author Bio Page

-Please support the official release.

Links to the book can be found here: Fatedlegacydark. ca

Summary of book:

Death. Grief. Ruin. Nothing was left unchanged after an unexplained tragedy led to the loss of millions across the world in key locations. Cities were reduced to wastelands of steel and concrete, and many were forced into migration. When events leading to the prior tragedy occur once more, Kevin Black was going to have to learn that sometimes mysteries were better left unsolved. Trapped with his friends in the world of a ruined city filled with monsters, the journey out would be far more perilous than the journey in.