It was Albedo who broke the silence first.
"The humans seem… content, considering what they've lost," she said softly, her voice smooth but laced with disdain. Her golden eyes narrowed at the villagers in the distance, as though watching insects scurry over a broken nest.
Ainz turned his glowing crimson gaze toward her, the hollows of his skeletal face unreadable. He regarded her for a long moment before speaking in his usual composed, deliberate tone.
"Tell me, Albedo… do you hate humans?"
Albedo didn't hesitate. A faint smile curled her lips—more elegant than cruel, but no less absolute.
"Of course I do, Ainz-sama. Humans are fragile, base creatures. Unworthy of your time, let alone your mercy."
Her voice was velvet and conviction all at once, the kind of certainty that could not be reasoned with—only obeyed or feared.
Behind them, Elijah remained still, half-shrouded in the shadows cast by the burning remnants of the village. He said nothing. But the slight incline of his head made it clear—he had heard her answer.
His crimson eyes lingered on Albedo, then on Ainz. One radiated zealotry. The other, calculation.
He kept his thoughts to himself.
Ainz paused for just a beat longer, then lowered his voice—not harsh, but instructive.
"Remember, Albedo. Maintaining appearances is just as vital as any battlefield victory."
There was no need to elaborate. The tone alone was enough.
Albedo lowered her head instantly, golden eyes cast downward in deference. "Forgive me, my Lord. I allowed my thoughts to show too clearly."
The apology was quiet, genuine in its own way—if only because it came from the part of her that lived to please Ainz above all else.
Elijah watched this with calm interest. He was more surprised by how little it took to rein her in.
Ainz gave a slight nod, accepting her submission. His robes shifted as he turned toward the village hall.
"Come. Let us take our leave properly."
He gestured with one gauntleted hand toward the modest building where the headman waited, shoulders hunched as though trying to disappear into the doorframe.
Seeing the Overlord turn his attention toward him, the poor man nearly collapsed under the weight of his own fear.
Albedo followed at Ainz's side with flawless grace.
Elijah trailed a step behind them, quiet as a passing shadow.
They reached the headman, who promptly dropped into a trembling bow. The man's voice quivered as he forced words from his dry throat.
"Th-thank you, Lord Ainz, for your mercy and your protection. We… we will never forget what you've done for us."
Ainz inclined his head slowly. "Your people have survived. That is what matters. As long as your loyalty remains, Nazarick shall not forget this village."
The old man's eyes widened. His knees threatened to give out, but he held the bow—too terrified to do otherwise.
Albedo's expression remained impassive, though the slight lift of her chin spoke volumes. To her, this entire exchange was a concession. A necessary gesture to things beneath their notice.
Elijah, on the other hand, gave the headman a simple nod—polite, unadorned, and human. It was the only kindness the man would receive that day.
Satisfied, Ainz gave a final slow nod, then turned.
His robes swept behind him like the edge of a black tide. Albedo followed with practiced elegance, casting a last lingering look at the villagers—her golden eyes shining with silent judgment.
Elijah fell in step behind them, his expression unreadable.
As the three moved away from the war-torn square, the distance between their roles became palpable:
Ainz Ooal Gown—Overlord, tactician, ruler.
Albedo—his loyal weapon, beautiful and merciless.
Elijah—the ghost between worlds, ever watching, never revealing too much.
Ainz allowed himself a fleeting, inward sigh. Playing the benevolent ruler was… tiring. But necessary.
In for a copper, in for a gold, he thought, recalling an old Earth proverb.
The act would continue a little longer.
All according to plan.