Ainz looked indifferently at everything before him, his eyes showing neither sorrow nor joy. A faint sobbing sound caught Ainz's attention; in this bloody hall, there was still a living creature from the Slane Theocracy.
Ainz followed the sound and saw a blond little boy huddled in the corner, his legs trembling, his lips bitten tightly shut. Facing this hellish scene, he wanted to wail out loud, but fear gripped his heart like a vice, stopping him from crying out.
"Who is this little boy?" Ainz asked in a pleasant tone.
"Reporting to Lord Ainz, his name is Connor Daller, the Holy Son of the Slane Theocracy—a boy with great talent in magic. He's seen as the future next Pope," Albedo replied.
"Come here, Connor Daller, no need to be afraid. We're not bad people," Ainz beckoned to the Holy Son Connor Daller, who was curled up in the corner.
Connor Daller's legs shook violently; he clearly knew that if he didn't obediently approach Ainz, it would mean certain death. He staggered over, his whole body trembling in terror.
Ainz ruffled the boy's little head and smiled gently. "Such a cute little boy. I hear you're the future Pope—perfect for turning into a puppet."
Connor Daller shuddered hard all over, his legs nearly buckling beneath him.
"I'm not planning to refine you into an undead puppet. You just have to obey me," Ainz said, waving a hand to point at the surrounding level 100 guardians, "and obey these big brothers and sisters too. As long as you're good, you can become Pope tomorrow."
Connor Daller stood there in a daze, his eyes blank, unsure if he'd even registered Ainz's words.
Albedo frowned lightly. "This little boy has no manners at all. Looks like he needs some proper education."
Connor trembled for a moment, then said in a sobbing, stuttering voice, "Th... thank you, Supreme Overlord Ainz, for your grace."
Ainz stroked his golden hair for a bit, saying kindly, "You really are a good, obedient kid."
Ainz had already made up his mind to let this young, naive child who knew nothing of the world become the Pope—it would make it easy for the Sorcerer Kingdom to pull the strings of the Slane Theocracy from behind the scenes.
The dark elf Mare walked into the hall, dragging an exhausted old man by the hand. Mare tossed the old man to the ground, where the scrawny elder kept coughing nonstop.
"Reporting to Lord Ainz, this is Alphonse Moreau, the Divine Commandant of the Clearwater Scripture. We only captured this one Divine Commandant from the Six Scriptures; the other five either died in battle, went missing, or killed themselves," Mare said.
"No need to torture him—just search his memories directly and pull out the intel on the Six Scriptures," Ainz said flatly.
"Lord Ainz," Mare replied with a troubled look, "Alphonse has already wiped out all his related memories."
Ainz didn't hesitate: "Then resurrect the other dead Scripture leaders from the Six Scriptures and extract their memories."
"We resurrected the Windflower Scripture leader, along with the Black Scripture leader, but the parts of their minds tied to the resurrection plan are totally blank too. They all erased their own memories."
"Heh, interesting." Ainz stared coldly at the old man groveling on the ground. "Without memories, how did they manage to carry out the resurrection of the God of Death?"
"Before wiping their memories, they wrote down what they needed to do next on paper. So after the deletion, even though they had no idea what they were up to, they still followed the steps and fired up the resurrection altar."
"The guys from the Six Scriptures are pretty damn good at that memory-wiping magic." Ainz felt a flicker of anger rising. "Since they love erasing memories so much, let's wipe out every last one of Alphonse's. Turn him into a senile old fart who knows nothing and remembers zilch."
"As you command, Lord Ainz." Mare grabbed Alphonse by the ankle and dragged him out.
The sudden crisis in the Slane Theocracy was now wrapped up. Ainz stepped out of the hall reeking of blood and strolled down the street, with Demiurge and Albedo trailing behind him.
The most striking feature in the Slane Theocracy's capital was the statues of the Six Great Gods right in the city center. E-Rantel's most famous landmark was also the statue of Ainz Ooal Gown.
Since ancient times, every emperor has loved carving their face into stone, figuring it would make them live forever.
The six enormous statues pierced the clouds, standing firm as mountains; they were the symbols of the Slane Theocracy's faith. For six hundred years, they'd silently watched over their followers and subjects, and now, with the Slane Theocracy's tragedy playing out right at their feet, they could still only watch in silence.
Ainz felt a surge of amusement. What's the point of being worshipped by everyone? Dead is dead—they can't kick up any dust anymore.
He walked up to the statues of the Six Great Gods and saw dozens of flower bouquets scattered haphazardly on the granite pedestal. In the breeze laced with the stench of blood, the petals quivered softly.
"Who put these flowers here?" Ainz asked.
"The people of the Slane Theocracy placed them on their own. Those clueless idiots think the Six Great Gods can still protect them," Demiurge said, adjusting his glasses with a push to the bridge of his nose and smirking disdainfully. "What a laughable idea."
"How should we deal with this city? Got any plans?" Ainz asked offhandedly.
"Lord Ainz, my suggestion is," Demiurge said in a sinister tone, "Butcher the city! Use killing to establish authority. Although we can't kill everyone in the entire Slane Theocracy, wiping out all the humans in the capital is doable. Only when the capital of the Slane Theocracy runs with rivers of blood and bodies litter the streets will no one dare to resist the Sorcerer Kingdom in the future."
"That's a good idea," Albedo chimed in, "but there are too many people in the capital; killing them one by one would take too much time."
As the two of them spoke, Ainz's thoughts drifted far away. Ainz remembered that he also had a towering statue in E-Rantel, but the pedestal of the statue was always spotlessly clean, without a speck of dust.
Those E-Rantel residents who kept saying "We revere Supreme Overlord Ainz," "We admire Supreme Overlord Ainz," "We love Supreme Overlord Ainz"—not one of them placed flowers on the statue's pedestal, and they even walked far around the statue in their daily lives.
Why doesn't anyone offer me flowers? Ainz sighed almost imperceptibly.
Demiurge and Albedo were still discussing how to eliminate the humans. Ainz waved his hand at them and said, "Forget it, maintain the status quo. No need to kill."
Demiurge was stunned for a moment, but he quickly recovered, his face showing an expression of sudden realization, and he praised loudly:
"Lord Ainz's wisdom is truly unfathomable! Our forces are already stretched thin, with garrisons maintained in Baharuth, Re-Estize, the dwarf kingdom, and the Roble Holy Kingdom; we're short on troops.
"Once we massacre the city, resistance in various parts of the Slane Theocracy will surely intensify, and we'll have to invest a lot of forces to suppress it, needing to kill even more humans, falling into a vicious cycle of killing to stop killing.
"And the urgent task right now is to concentrate all available forces to search for EeDechi's traces in the Eight Greed Kings' desert! Lord Ainz, you truly think a hundred steps ahead with each move. I have to rack my brains just to barely keep up with your thinking!"
"Ah... um, yes, that's right." Ainz cleared his throat lightly and said, "Demiurge, your strategic skills have improved."