(Some upcoming chapters will be similar to Canon.)
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One by one, every Guardian of the Great Tomb of Nazarick moved to form a line before me. The sight was… breathtaking.
Albedo stood at the forefront beside Aura, while Shalltear, Cocytus, Demiurge, and the twin elves took their places in perfect formation. The air was thick with reverence and power—each of them radiating their unique presence, yet unified in purpose.
The first to step forward was Shalltear.
"Shalltear Bloodfallen, Guardian of the First and Second Floors, presents herself to the Master."
She went down on one knee, pressing a pale hand to her chest, bowing so deeply her silver hair brushed the cold stone.
Next came Cocytus, moving with ritual precision.
"Cocytus, guardian of the fifth floor, presents himself to the master."
He knelt as if performing a sacred rite, his halberd laid before him in respect.
Then, the twin elves took their turn.
"The Guardian of the Sixth Floor, Aura Bella Fiora, presents herself to the Master."
"A-Also a Guardian of the Sixth Floor, Mare Bello Fiore, presents himself to the Master."
They knelt side by side, their movements perfectly synchronized, their expressions calm and reverent.
After them came Demiurge.
"The Guardian of the Seventh Floor, Demiurge, presents himself to the Master."
His descent was deliberate—elegant, yet absolute. It was the kind of bow that spoke not of loyalty, but of chosen subservience.
Finally, Albedo stepped forward. Her white wings spread in a sweeping arc as she bowed gracefully, her golden eyes glowing with devotion.
"The Guardian Overseer, Albedo, presents herself to the Master."
Her voice rang clearly across the Colosseum. "With the exception of the Fourth Floor Guardian, Gargantua, and the Eighth Floor Guardian, Victim, all Floor Guardians are assembled. Thus, we offer our utmost loyalty to you, Alastor-sama."
The moment she finished, the entire Colosseum fell silent.
Every Guardian knelt, their heads bowed low. Twelve beings—each capable of leveling nations—now submitted in perfect unison before me.
I looked at them—Shalltear's silvery hair glinting like moonlight, Aura's golden braid swaying slightly, Cocytus's ice-crusted armor gleaming under torchlight, Demiurge's calm composure, and Albedo's radiant beauty—all of them, waiting.
Waiting for my word.
For a heartbeat, I couldn't speak. Not because of fear. Not because I lacked words. But because… there simply weren't any that could describe what I felt.
'12 years…'
The thought came quietly, unbidden.
'For 12 damn years, I've waited for this moment.'
My vision blurred slightly as the weight of it all hit me. Not the grandeur, not the awe—but the memory. The memory of late nights, of raid wipes, of Discord arguments, and of guild laughter. The memory of those who built this world with me.
Momonga. Touch me. Ulbert. Bukubukuchagama. Tabula Smaragdina.
My friends. My comrades. My family in a digital tomb.
'Thank you,' I thought, clenching my fist at my side. 'If it weren't for you all, Nazarick would have never become this. I would have never become this.'
I looked at the Guardians again, their faith absolute.
Our creation had become real.
And now, it was alive—breathing, moving, waiting.
For the first time in decades, I smiled—not the polite mask of command, but something genuine.
The sound of armor, silk, and steel filled the air as they stood as one—my family, my legacy.
The rulers of Nazarick.
And beneath the light of that artificial sky, I swore silently:
Whatever world awaited us next, whatever enemies dared challenge us—this time, we would conquer it together.
"Raise your heads."
With a smooth "sha," every Guardian lifted their heads in perfect unison. The motion was so precise, so synchronized, that I briefly wondered if they had rehearsed this act countless times for this very moment. Their loyalty radiated like divine light—unyielding, absolute, unwavering.
I took a moment to look at each of them—Shalltear, Aura, Mare, Cocytus, Demiurge, and Albedo at their head. Each stood as an avatar of pride and reverence, waiting for my next words.
"First of all," I began slowly, allowing my voice to echo across the cold, vast arena, "I should thank you all for coming here and pledging your loyalty."
Albedo immediately lowered her head again, her golden eyes burning with devotion. "There is no need for thanks, Alastor-sama. We are all your loyal subordinates. To us, you are not merely our master—you are our supreme creator."
Her tone was both reverent and absolute, and none of the other Guardians voiced even a whisper of disagreement. As expected from the Overseer, her words carried weight that needed no reinforcement.
Her eyes lifted slightly, shimmering with emotion as she continued, "... Alastor-sama, it is only natural that you may harbor doubts about us. After all, compared to one such as you—our abilities must seem insignificant."
I remained silent, studying them. Even in their humility, there was pride. Not arrogance, but the pride of existence—the certainty that their loyalty had meaning.
"However," Albedo's voice rang out once more, clear as crystal, "if Alastor-sama gives the order, we—the Guardians of Nazarick—shall accomplish any task, no matter how impossible. We will carry out your will with every fiber of our being. We swear never to allow the Forty-One Supreme Beings of Ainz Ooal Gown, our creators, to be disgraced by our actions."
"This we swear!"
Their voices boomed together like a holy oath—sharp, commanding, and filled with such unshakable conviction that the air itself seemed to tremble. Their loyalty wasn't blind; it was purpose incarnate. The kind that did not fade with time or fear.
I slowly nodded. A faint smile tugged at my lips—though, given the form I currently inhabited, it likely appeared more like a grim, unsettling grin than genuine warmth. But they didn't flinch. Not one of them looked disturbed. To them, even the eerie presence I exuded was divine.
"Excellent," I said at last, the word echoing with restrained satisfaction. "Guardians, I know you will understand my aims and carry out my commands flawlessly. You were each created for greatness, and that greatness is what sustains Nazarick."
I leaned back slightly, my crimson eyes narrowing as I continued, my tone shifting from solemn to analytical.
"However… there is something you must all be aware of."
The air grew tense instantly. Even Shalltear, normally impish and overzealous, straightened her posture and folded her hands neatly in front of her. Cocytus gripped his halberd tighter, the frost around him deepening. Demiurge's tail flicked slightly, but his expression remained perfectly composed—a loyal strategist awaiting his Supreme's command.
"I believe," I said softly, letting my words cut through the silence, "that the Great Tomb of Nazarick has been… caught up in an unknown situation."
~~~
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