The power of the Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown was nothing short of divine. Unlimited teleportation between named rooms within the Great Tomb of Nazarick, a privilege even the most seasoned adventurers could only dream of. It was not merely a ring—it was a symbol of dominion, a key that commanded space itself. No mortal barrier could deny it entry; no distance could defy its reach.
Of course, even such a creation had limits. Not even this ring could directly transport me to the Throne Room or any of the personal chambers belonging to the original guild members. The magic barriers woven into those spaces were absolute—protections forged by our collective will. And yet, that very limitation reminded me of how much we had achieved back in YGGDRASIL.
Still, I couldn't help but smirk as I looked down at the shimmering obsidian band encircling my finger.
"Let's see if the old magic still answers my call," I murmured.
I unleashed the ring's power.
In an instant, the world before me collapsed into blackness. The air folded, the ground fell away, and for the briefest heartbeat, I hung suspended between realities. Then, just as quickly, the darkness receded—and the scene before me shifted.
Now, I stood within a long, dimly lit tunnel. Its stone walls were cold and smooth, lined with crystalline lamps that burned with a pale, steady glow. The faint hum of enchantments echoed through the corridor like the whisper of distant machinery.
At the far end of the tunnel, I could see a massive portcullis, forged from enchanted steel and carved with runes that pulsed faintly with mana.
"Now…" I said quietly, my voice echoing through the cavernous hall, "Let's see what's changed."
My footsteps rang sharply against the stone floor as I began walking forward. Each step echoed back at me—a rhythm both familiar and alien. The torches along the walls flickered softly, their light dancing like restless spirits. The shadows I cast seemed alive, as if mimicking me from every angle, creating a dozen versions of myself walking in unison.
When I neared the gate, I inhaled deeply—and froze.
I could smell.
It was faint but undeniable. The earthy scent of soil and grass drifted through the tunnel, the fragrance of life. That shouldn't have been possible. Dragons didn't breathe. In YGGDRASIL, we didn't even need to. And yet here I was, taking in the scent of a jungle beyond these walls.
For a moment, I chuckled softly to myself. "So that's what it feels like… to be real."
I decided not to overthink it. Whatever was happening, I had waited lifetimes for this moment—this transition from code to existence.
As though the tomb itself had recognized its master, the portcullis began to rise, the runes glowing brighter as it smoothly lifted into the ceiling. The sound of grinding stone filled the hall, followed by a sudden rush of wind as the space beyond opened before me.
I stepped forward into the Colosseum of the Sixth Floor—and once again, even after all these years, its grandeur took my breath away.
A vast arena stretched before me, its oval shape framed by soaring tiers of stone seats. The ground beneath my boots was packed earth, yet faintly pulsing with magic. {Continual Light} spells lined the perimeter, casting the entire Colosseum in a brilliant white glow that mimicked the radiance of day.
Above me stretched a sky—dark, cloudless, infinite. Once upon a time, it had been nothing more than pixels and particle effects, but now it looked so real I almost believed I could reach out and touch it.
This was no longer just data. This was Nazarick, reborn in truth.
I raised my gaze to the heavens and smiled faintly. "Not bad," I muttered. "You've adapted beautifully."
My footsteps carried me toward the center of the arena, the sound echoing softly through the silence. Normally, this floor would be guarded—a living monument to strength and discipline, watched over by two of Nazarick's youngest creations.
But strangely, the stands were empty. The golems—clay guardians frozen in perfect formation—sat lifeless and still, awaiting orders that had not yet come.
The silence stretched for several moments. Then—a sharp voice cut through the air.
"Toooooooh!"
The sound was followed by a figure leaping from the highest VIP box. She descended in a blur of motion, somersaulting gracefully before landing with barely a sound. There was no magic, no spellwork—only sheer agility and instinct.
Her boots touched the ground lightly, her knees flexed to absorb the impact, and then she rose, grinning from ear to ear.
"V!" she declared proudly, forming a victory sign with both hands.
A soft laugh escaped me before I could stop it. Even after the transition, some things hadn't changed.
She was radiant—her hair, the color of liquid gold, shimmered under the artificial sunlight. Her eyes, one blue and one red, sparkled with boundless energy and joy. Her skin was dark and smooth like polished obsidian, and her long pointed ears marked her as a Dark Elf, kin to the forest dwellers of legend.
Her outfit was light yet functional—leather armor reinforced with the crimson scales of a dragon, fitted perfectly to her slender frame. Across her chest gleamed the emblem of Ainz Ooal Gown, stitched proudly in gold thread against a white background. A golden acorn pendant hung from her neck, swaying with her every movement.
At her side coiled a whip made from enchanted metal fibers, and slung across her back was a longbow adorned with runic carvings that glimmered faintly under the light.
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Even here, in this new reality, she was still as full of life as I remembered.
"Aura," I said with a faint smile, my voice echoing across the arena. "I don't see Mare with you."
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