Nazarick – The 9th Floor – The Royal Suite
Pain was a concept Ainz Ooal Gown had largely forgotten. Even when taking damage in Yggdrasil, it was merely a vibration in the controller and a red flash on the screen.
But now, sitting on his velvet chaise lounge, Ainz felt a dull, spiritual ache. It was the feedback from using a Trump Card.
[Skill Cooldown: The Goal of All Life is Death - 99 Hours, 48 Minutes]
He was vulnerable. For the next four days, his ultimate "No" button was offline.
"Ainz-sama..."
Pestonya Shortcake Wanko, the head maid with the dog's head, applied a high-tier negative energy compress to his ribcage. Her tail was usually wagging. Today, it was tucked firmly between her legs.
"It is... wan... unforgivable that we allowed you to reach this state."
"It was necessary," Ainz said, his voice calm thanks to the passive suppression that was working overtime. "The entity possessed resistance to standard instant death. I had to strip the concept of immortality from it."
Across the room, Albedo sat on a stool. Her right arm was a mess of twisted flesh and raw data particles. Lupusregina was casting high-tier healing spells on it, but the wound resisted.
"It... stings," Albedo murmured, her face flushed not with pain, but with a strange ecstasy. "The wound given by the False One... it throbs."
"Heal it fully," Ainz ordered. "Use the wands if MP is low."
"Please, Lord Ainz," Albedo pleaded, clutching her mangled limb to her chest. "Let it remain for a few hours. It is a reminder of my weakness. A reminder that I must be stronger to protect you."
Don't make this weird, Albedo. Please.
"Heal it," Ainz said, deepening his voice. "I do not wish to look upon damaged property. A perfect tool must be maintained."
Albedo gasped. "A tool! Yes! I am your tool!" She thrust her arm toward Lupusregina. "Fix it! Make me pristine for the Supreme One!"
Ainz sighed internally. I hate that that worked.
The door opened. Demiurge entered. He looked immaculate, but Ainz noticed a subtle detail—his tail was twitching arrhythmically. Signs of high stress.
"Ainz-sama," the Arch-Devil bowed. "The investigation of the blast zone is complete."
"Report."
"The land is dead," Demiurge said simply. "The soil for three kilometers is essentially gray dust. Nothing grows. The mana in the air was incinerated. It will take a century to recover naturally."
Demiurge paused, his jewel eyes flashing.
"The shockwave... was felt across the continent."
The Baharuth Empire – The Imperial Palace
Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix, the Bloody Emperor, was losing his hair.
He stood on his balcony, staring south-east. The sky there was a bruising shade of purple, lingering hours after the event.
"Your Majesty," Baziwood, the Lightning Guard captain, stepped onto the terrace. "We have reports from the border patrols. The horses are panicked. They won't drink water from the streams."
"An earthquake?" Jircniv asked, sipping wine that tasted like ash.
"No, sir. A localized... vacuum." Baziwood rubbed his neck. "For about twelve seconds, the soldiers said the sound of the wind stopped. The birds fell out of the sky. Then... the gray pulse."
Jircniv gripped the railing until his knuckles turned white.
"It's him," Jircniv whispered.
"Gown?"
"Who else?" Jircniv slammed his goblet down. "He's quiet for a month, and suddenly the physics of the world take a lunch break! What is he doing? Is he testing a weapon? Is he remodeling? Did he just trip?"
"If that was him tripping, we're lucky the planet didn't crack," Baziwood muttered.
"He's mocking us," Jircniv paced frantically. "We sent spies to the Theocracy to propose a secret alliance. He knows. He caused this phenomenon right near the Re-Estize border to show us his reach. He's saying, 'I can turn your empire into a parking lot without leaving my throne.'"
The Emperor laughed—a dry, hollow sound.
"We are ants, Baziwood. We are ants wondering why the boot descended."
Jircniv didn't see the small shadow detachment monitoring him from the palace eaves. Hanzos. They recorded his panic. They would report it to Albedo. And Albedo would smile, not realizing that this time, her master had terrified the Emperor by accident while running for his life.
Nazarick – The Round Table
The meeting was tense. The empty chairs of the other Supreme Beings seemed to loom larger than usual.
"We face an unseen enemy," Ainz announced to his assembled Floor Guardians.
He needed to frame this carefully. He couldn't admit they were "Devs" or that he was a "Corrupted File." He had to frame it within the lore of Overlord.
"The entity called itself 'System Administrator'," Ainz lied smoothly. "But based on its behavior, I deduce they are remnants of the ancient gods who built the laws of this world."
"The World Eaters?" Cocytus asked, steam hissing from his mandibles.
"Older," Ainz said. "The Architects. They view Nazarick as an anomaly. They wish to 'patch' us out of existence."
Shalltear, still shaken from seeing the Touch Me clone, slammed her small hands on the table. "Then we invade their realm! We find this 'Server' and drain it dry!"
"No," Ainz raised a hand. "Direct confrontation is... unwise. Their resources are infinite in their own domain. We must force them to fight on our terms."
"Terrain advantage," Demiurge nodded, his pen scratching furiously on a notepad. "They utilize data-based attacks. Glitches. But we possess the physical reality of the New World. We must anchor ourselves."
"Correct," Ainz said. Good job, Demiurge. I have no idea what that means, but let's go with it.
"Therefore," Ainz pointed to the map. "We must consolidate. No more rapid expansion. We secure the borders. We find the World Items scattered across this continent. We need them to negate the 'Code' of the enemy."
He looked at Albedo.
"The Black Scripture of the Slane Theocracy possesses Downfall of Castle and Country."
Albedo's eyes narrowed. "The item that disgraced Shalltear."
"We take it," Ainz said coldly. "Not just to avenge Shalltear. But because that item can rewrite minds. It is likely an Admin Tool given physical form. We need it to defend against deletion."
"I will deploy the specialized unit," Albedo offered, her tone vibrating with eager violence.
"Do so. But, Albedo?"
"Yes?"
"Do not engage the Platinum Dragon Lord."
The room went quiet.
"He was there," Ainz dropped the bombshell. "Before the battle. My detection spells picked up a high-tier observation sensor. The Dragon Lord watched us fight the Pale Paladin. And he did not intervene."
"He is cautious," Sebas Tian noted.
"He is plotting," Ainz corrected. "He saw my Trump Card. He knows I am on cooldown. If there is a time to strike Nazarick, it is now."
Ainz leaned forward. The red lights in his sockets burned with serious intensity.
"The Theocracy and the Dragons will ally. It is the inevitable outcome of a shared predator. We must be ready to fight the world."
The Great Rift – 200 Miles South of Nazarick
Deep within a canyon that sun rarely touched, an ancient ritual was taking place.
The Cardinals of the Slane Theocracy stood in a circle. In the center knelt Zesshi Zetsumei. She was naked, her body covered in painted runes that glowed with holy light.
The Platinum Dragon Lord watched from the cliff above, his armor gleaming in the twilight.
"This is risky," The Captain of the Black Scripture warned, standing beside the Dragon. "Applying the 'Surpass Limits' ritual to Zesshi... it could burn out her mind."
"Her mind is already broken," Tsaindorcus replied coldly. "We need her body to be a vessel."
"A vessel for what?"
"For the spirit of Surshana."
The Captain gasped. "The God of Death? You intend to channel a Great God into a half-breed?"
"Surshana was a Player," Tsaindorcus said, looking down at the girl. "An Undead Player. His residual data is imprinted on his scythe. If we can synchronize her bloodline with his weapon... she might be able to enter Nazarick's barriers without triggering their alarms."
"She will be a Trojan Horse?"
"She will be a suicide bomber," the Dragon Lord corrected. "But a very powerful one."
Down below, Zesshi screamed.
It was a sound of pure agony as the runes burned into her skin. The shadows in the canyon twisted. The Scythe Charon's Guidance levitated, spinning, and then drove itself into her chest.
There was no blood.
Zesshi's body arched. Her skin turned gray. Her hair bleached white.
When she opened her eyes, they weren't black anymore. They were burning red sockets.
She looked up at the Dragon Lord.
"Interesting," Zesshi spoke. But the voice was dual-layered—a girl and a man speaking in unison. "So this is the New World's current state."
Tsaindorcus bowed his armored head slightly.
"Welcome back, Player. We have a task for you."
Nazarick – The Throne Room
Ainz sat on the throne, alone again.
The cooldown timer ticked down. 98 hours.
He pulled out the smartphone. The battery was at 82%. It seemed to recharge by draining mana from his inventory, which was alarming but convenient.
The app Yggdrasil Connect was open.
The hostile tag on "TouchMe" had vanished—presumably because Ainz blew the avatar into digital dust.
But there was a new notification. A little red "1" over the Messages icon.
Ainz stared at it. His nonexistent heart hammered.
Who could message him? The Admins used voice projection. The Players were gone or dead.
He tapped the icon.
[Sender: Unknown]
[Time: 1 minute ago]
[Subject: Saw the light show]
Ainz swallowed dryly. He opened the message.
The text was simple, written in casual Japanese script.
> "Yo, Momonga-san. Just saw you nuke a Grid Guardian. Pretty flashy for a skeleton. TGOALID? risky move using a 100-hour cooldown when the Firewall is watching."
Ainz stared. The user used the term Grid Guardian. The user knew his cooldowns. The user knew he was Momonga.
A second message popped up.
> "We should talk. Meet me at the edge of the server. Coordinates: [Old Great Wall, Location 44-9]. Come alone. If you bring the NPCs, the integrity will crash."
Ainz moved his thumb to the keyboard. His skeletal fingers clattered on the small screen.
< "Who are you?" >
Typing bubble...
...
...
> "A ghost. One who didn't log out in time. By the way, check your inventory. I sent you a patch."
Ainz opened his inventory.
There, sitting beside his potions and spare robes, was a file. Not an item. A file.
[Patch_v1.0_Anti_Glitch.exe]
[Description: Hides User from System Scans.]
Ainz looked at the phone, then at the darkness of his throne room.
A player? An ally?
Or a hunter luring him out while his ultimate skill was on cooldown?
"Coordinates 44-9," Ainz murmured. That was far to the East. Near the rumored Sea City.
He stood up.
He couldn't tell the Guardians. They would lock him in a safe room if they knew a "Player" was summoning him alone.
"If I am to rule this world," Ainz whispered to the silence, "I must know if there are other kings."
He selected the Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown. He couldn't teleport directly to the coordinates—he hadn't visited the location.
But he could get close.
He looked at the NPC list.
[PA (Pandora's Actor) - Area: Treasury]
"Pandora," Ainz messaged.
"Vat is it, mein Vater!" the mental reply came instantly, overflowing with theatrical zeal.
"I need a body double. Immediately."
"A glorious subterfuge! I shall prepare the costumes! Are we dazzling the masses?"
"No," Ainz said, gripping the smartphone tight enough to crack the casing.
"You are going to sit on the throne for two days. Do not move. Do not speak unless absolutely necessary."
"And you, father?"
"I am going to see a ghost."