Supreme Beings of Azeroth

by DukeCheburek

Summary:

Yggdrasil ended and with that, the old life Suzuki Satoru led. Yet, life had plans for him, and with the help of a mysterious benefactor, he and his wife found themselves in a new world as their game avatars of an undead overlord and a slime. What fate awaits Ainz and Bukubukuchagama in the world of Azeroth, only time will tell.

Chapter 1

AN: This is a requested story with Ainz and Buku as the main characters. For those unfamiliar with the Warcraft setting, rest assured the story will be written so that everyone can follow the story without needing to look up anything.

For those familiar with Warcraft, I will take creative liberties and some events may go completely different or not occur at all. Still, I do intend to keep the most of the established lore. To be fair even Blizzard is retconning the story every year so who knows what will be canon in the future.

The first few chapters will Establish Ainz and Buku's relationship and only then the actual isekai part will start so hang in there.

Chapter 1

Pain wasn't the worst feeling a man could harbor in his heart, nor was it the senses of loss or helplessness… In the depths of despair, where shadows linger and hope flickered dimly at best, the most insidious of all was emptiness, as dark as the void; it consumed the soul, leaving nothing but a husk devoid of even the smallest traces of life.

Suzuki Satoru slowly lifted his VR set from his head, setting the device gently on the table beside the chair… The table, cheap, and cold, stood there, devoid of any style or grace, with its surface marred by years of use. Yggdrasil had ended; the game that had been his life for twelve years was no more.

The tired man rubbed his eyes, letting out a deep and weary sigh. He wanted to feel something, anything, but there was just… emptiness… it was as if the very act of Yggdrasil's servers shutting down had torn out his heart, leaving a gaping hole and a lifeless shell behind.

''What should I do now? If I pick up a new game, it'll just end the same way… What's the point when people leave once they get bored?'' His voice resembled hollow whispers of the damned, resounding softly in the silent room. He closed his eyes, the weight of exhaustion pulling his eyelids downward. Slumping back in his chair, he decided it wasn't worth the effort to crawl to his bed. In five hours he had to wake up and go to work, but he knew he needed it. His dead-end salaryman career paid just enough to get by, with a little left over to spend on games, and that was it.

Life in 2138, Japan, and the world in general, wasn't far from the hells depicted in various religions: People were constantly overworked, nature had all but vanished; a distant memory for most, and there were effectively no rights for the common people. Satoru, like the vast majority, would have to work till his last breath, slaving away for the wealth of the top .0001%.

Sleep came swiftly… The dreams were filled with his past adventures, where he ventured as his game avatar, the Undead Overlord Momonga. He fought monsters, traveled the world, and made friends. It was a perfect time for him, to revel in the glory of being something completely different compared to his real-life self.

But as all good things had to come to an end; they all disappeared in the end, leaving him alone. The piercing shrill of the alarm clock ended the raid on the enemy base prematurely, returning him to the stark and unforgiving embrace of reality.

He subconsciously went through his morning routine in under ten minutes. A quick shower followed by a breakfast consisting of gelatinous nutrient paste, the main source of sustenance for poor people like him. Organic food with natural ingredients was a luxury beyond reach, far too expensive for regular consumption and reserved exclusively for the wealthiest.

Next, he embarked on his journey to work through the crowded streets. Towering skyscrapers loomed far above more than they could see, their grim steel and glass surfaces reflecting the perpetual gray rain that fell relentlessly from the toxic sky that was devoid of any bird life, or any life in general. The air, thick with corrosive fumes from factories, forced nearly every passerby to don protective suits equipped with air filters. These air filters didn't come by cheaply, thanks to the impunity of the government and its monopolistic company backers. Satoru was one of the lucky few who managed to procure one from the black market, having purchased it for half the price from a man who had a relative perished early and left the gear in near-mint condition.

As for those who didn't have to wear the air filter, they wouldn't be in this city. Or in any city similar to this, for that matter. They'd be holed up in their private islands, using only the best technology to ensure the air they breathed was as pristine as it was before the Industrial Revolution.

As he navigated through the throngs of people, their faces obscured by transparent visors, he couldn't shake a solemn thought; his filter was running low, and he needed a new one soon. Another expensive purchase to empty his meager savings. Amidst the bleak landscape, he spotted a narrow alley strewn with street children, no older than ten, taking possession of a homeless lady whose lost limbs lay lifelessly upon the cracked concrete. Their burnt skin painted a heartbreaking picture of innocence, forsaken by a harsh reality as they dragged the dead woman to who-knew-where.

Satoru's thoughts trudged through a multitude of people same as him, with nearly everyone wearing protective suits to avoid getting chemical burns from the perpetual rain or damaging their lungs by breathing in the corrosive air; except for the homeless, too poor to afford suits, and thus were destined for a short and agonizing existence that would end with a painful death in the squalid, refuse-strewn alleys, another number to add to another statistic.

His day at the office slowly unfolded like any other before it, unremarkable and devoid of any promise or change whatsoever. He spent ten monotonous hours in his cramped cubicle, answering client complaints with corporate jargon he recited from his script and rejecting all of them on technicalities per company policy. A small break came in the form of yet another portion of the nutrient paste, accompanying a cup of the factory-made coffee that tasted like a mix between burnt rubber and wet asphalt, automatically paid by a portion of his wage as a "benefit" from the company.

At six-thirty, when he finally returned home, only emptiness greeted him once more, not even a so-called cricket of the past making itself known present. Collapsing into his gaming chair, he leaned into its worn contours before browsing around the web for a game to play on a phone screen. Nothing on the screen caught his attention, in truth, he no longer felt the drive to play games anymore The majority of them were the same, low-effort garbage riddled with exploitative monetization and hundreds of microtransactions.

As he scrolled through game after game, dismissing them all for one reason or another, an email notification interrupted his search at the corner of his device. Out of habit Satoru opened it immediately and saw the name "Itsuki"- a man he had once called his best friend. Itsuki had played as the min-maxing avian under the name Peroroncino in their guild, but like the other guild members, he had quit a while ago, citing real-life reasons. Itsuki's sister, Akari, had also been a player in the game, but had quit when her health worsened.

She, a prominent voice actress in the hentai game genre, struggled with a deteriorating back that she couldn't afford to treat even with her income level, with healthcare out of reach for her as typical as it was for everyone else. Satoru wasn't aware of all the details, but he knew her condition had gotten worse over the two years since the siblings had stopped playing.

He had kept up a correspondence with them as his closest friends from Yggdrasil. At first, they wrote to each other daily, then they shifted to weekly updates, and eventually it dwindled to a message per month on average. Satoru had gradually accepted that he simply wasn't part of their lives anymore and didn't want to intrude.

The message started with the predictable words, 'Sorry we couldn't make it. Akari had an emergency at work come up and I needed to help her.'

'Yeah sure you are sorry.' He scoffed internally, bitterness tainting his thoughts, 'As if you even care about the game or me anymore.'

His eyes scanned the screen, following each word with a mixture of resentment and resignation. 'I hope you had a good time on the last day of the server. Anyhow, how have you been?' he read the rest of the message and grunted. It couldn't be more generic. The words, devoid of genuine connection, seemed to echo hollowly in his mind. Sure, both siblings were busy with their lives, but would it kill them to at least write more often? Frustration welled up within him. The once frequent exchanges had trickled down to sporadic updates, leaving him like an outcast in their world.

Satoru started to write a response with the generic phrase, 'It was fun and I am doing fine' but stopped halfway through. Why should he lie to Itsuki? He deserved that much, at least. With a sigh, he deleted the message and started anew. 'Only Herohero showed up and he left before the game ended. Not much has changed as of late.'

He grimaced as he typed the last letter. 'There! He can fuck off for another month and then remember I exist out of pity.' Satoru closed the mail application and set his phone aside, leaning back in his chair. Why even bother? These people didn't truly care, no one did. The world operated on its own accord of the powerful and there was nothing he or anyone like him could do about it. Everyone kept to their own or stayed within their small social circles, while he wasn't part of any; he was just a lonely man with no family or friends. His corpse would surface only when he failed to pay the ever-increasing bills.

'Shit man, I didn't expect that, if I knew I would have woken sis and we would have logged in for the last ten minutes.' Another message came, taking him by surprise.

'It's fine. It was just a game after all; you had no obligation to play.'

The room fell into timid silence as Satoru stared at the screen, his thoughts lingered on the unexpected exchange. There was no immediate response. With a sigh, he closed the app once more and set his phone aside. Yggdrasil, to most people, was just a game, a mere diversion from the wretched world, a fleeting pastime. For him, though, it was something more, it held a profound significance - a virtual sanctuary he had invested years of his life and income into.

Another notification pinged, yet Satoru hesitated to reach for his phone right away. His mind raced, questioning what had gotten into Itsuki and why he suddenly gave a response so fast.

'Did I push too far with my whining? Perhaps I should have just brushed it off and left it at that.'

He grasped the phone and read Itsuki's message. The words resonated in his mind, offering a glimmer of connection he hadn't anticipated, 'Hey, how about you drop by on Sunday? We could hang out in real life, watch some shitty anime, and drink a beer or two.'

Satoru blinked in surprise. He couldn't believe it; it was an invitation! The siblings didn't live that far from his place, they had shared their locations in-game a few times. It would only take one metro ride - a small but significant change in his isolated and mundane everyday routine; like a drowning man grasping at a straw, he responded swiftly. 'Sure, it sounds great. I'll drop by.' A surge of hope flickered within him, mingled with cautious optimism, that perhaps, he would reunite with his former friends, and maybe, Satoru thought, things would turn out differently.

<X>

His nervousness was palpable. Satoru hadn't visited anyone in almost a decade; his life had been a monotonous cycle of work, home, and occasional detours to the shop for replacements and repairs. Now standing at the door of the apartment where his friends lived, faced with the prospect of real human interaction, he hesitated to ring the bell.

'What if it was all just a joke?' his mind raced with doubts, 'No, it would be foolish to think like that.' Paranoia was an ever-present companion of his - a trait that had often served him well in the virtual world of the game and on the streets, trained and reinforced by multiple violent incidents typical for someone of his social standing. Despite all this, it came with a crippling disadvantage in social interactions.

After shuffling nervously for what felt like an eternity, he gathered enough courage and rang the doorbell.

The sound echoed faintly through the hallway, and moments later, the door swung open, revealing a familiar figure, a lanky man with short, messy hair, and a scruffy three-day stubble. He was dressed casually in a loose navy blue t-shirt and charcoal gray sweatpants, adorned with a subtle pattern of tiny game controllers.

"Momo?" The man's face lit up with a broad, toothy grin, eyes glittering.

"Ahm, yes," Satoru responded hesitantly. "Sorry that I am a little late, but-"

"Don't worry about it, the metro is shit, I know." his friend interjected, waving him inside. "Come in, sis is already getting worked up."

Relieved, Satoru entered the apartment, following his friend. He meticulously removed the protective suit at the entrance, hanging it up with care. He followed his friend deeper into the apartment with a pack of six beers and a pack of chocolate candy; both treats had put a massive dent in his savings, but since he had nothing else to spend his money on, he may as well properly prepare for the visit as social norms once dictated. At least he assumed he read the right ones on the internet.

Unlike her brother, Akari had dressed up for the occasion. She wore a knee-high black skirt, adorned with subtle floral patterns, paired with a crisp white blouse that accentuated her figure, and her shoulder-length hair was neatly combed to perfection, framing a face that was slightly older than the pictures he had seen on her social media that still retained its allure. She was still as attractive as ever, and even though she was a full head shorter than her brother, she had a slim build with slight curves and a pretty face brightened by a gentle smile, not an "advertisement model" pretty, but captivating in her own right.

"Momo, you are finally here! Why did you come alone? Where is your girlfriend? Have you been ignoring your pretty little sister Buku's attempt to find you a girl?'' She crossed her arms with an overly serious expression, speaking in a low threatening voice, bombarding him with questions quicker than he could answer.

There had been a running joke back when the guild was still active: if you hear Buku speak in a deep tone, run. This was one such situation. A while back, Buku, now Akari, had been insistent on finding him a girlfriend, even teasingly threatening to marry him herself if he didn't 'man up' and make a choice.

"Um… I…" Satoru stuttered, his voice trailing off uncertainty and nervousness.

"Come on, sis, you can't ambush the poor guy like that." Itsuki came to his rescue, chuckling.

''I can and I will! If you plan to tell me that you're still alone, you'd better have a ring with you!" Akari's voice rose with a bit of playful aggression.

"Ehh…" Satoru let out a feeble whine, as his legs trembled under the unexpected pressure. He wasn't good with real-life confrontation and was unprepared for such a direct assault.

Just as he contemplated getting out of the awkward situation and leaving the apartment, Akari suddenly burst into high-pitched laughter. "I've still got it. It's good to see you, Momo."

As he stood there with a beer in one hand and chocolate in the other, Satoru watched as Akari slowly approached him. It was plain to see that each step was painful and took a lot out of her, but she still soldiered on with a determined smile on her pretty face. She slapped away her brother's arm as he attempted to assist her, insisting on pushing onward herself.

Satoru, not wanting her to endure on his behalf, stepped forward and allowed her to embrace him in a tight hug. He awkwardly reciprocated, feeling her fragrance invade his nose and her body's warmth stirred the feelings he had all but forgotten. The last time he received a hug from someone was back when he was eight years old, and that too was from his now passed-on mother. At most, he had given out handshakes whenever new management had been assigned, but that was it.

She was the only family he ever had. Satoru never knew his father, who had passed away in a factory accident when he was only a year old. Though a distant memory, he still remembered her warm hugs and gentle voice that sang a lullaby, the only true affection he had ever received.

She always tried to make him the foods he liked at least once a week even though she worked fourteen to sixteen hours every day while he was home alone watching cartoons and occasionally calling her on the phone. He had learned how to be by himself at the age of three, desperate for her affection, but that was in the past.

Now this embrace stirred up different types of feelings as the closeness of a beautiful woman overwhelmed his senses.

"Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just that happy to see me?" Akari purred teasingly in his ear, accompanied by a short giggle.

"Sis, have some manners and don't be a total horny perv." Itsuki scolded his sister in an overly serious tone, the irony of his statement lost on him given that he was the one in the guild's group who played the most hentai games and had the guild's largest installation of NSFW material.

"Let me have my moment!" She screeched back with uncontainable laughter, the tension in the room dissipating into shared amusement.

Satoru stood there, unsure of what to do as the siblings bickered, as they were always like this; both were playful and perverted as hell, and Buku had always been flirtatious with him; in fact, she was the reason he was able to talk to women at all.

When she joined the guild, she assumed the role of a big sister, ensuring everyone felt included and cared for, especially him. Her care included doing everything to make him open up, utilizing her vocal skills to get him to relax. She went out of her way to have simple conversations with him virtually every day in-game, which at first were just simple questions about the game but then escalated to more personal and relatable subjects. Satoru knew she had been playing up to her lack of knowledge but indulged in her attempts nonetheless, finding it entertaining.

"I won't torment you too much today. It's just nice to have guests." Akari's tone grew somber briefly before perking up again. "Will you be a gentleman and help me get to the sofa so we can start the evening?"

By some miracle, Satoru gathered his attention and replied in an equally light-hearted manner. "With pleasure, my lady."

Akari giggled again and shifted from hugging to firmly holding onto his right arm, leading him towards the living area. Her demeanor was both inviting and playful, something Suzuki hadn't felt for a long time.

Now that he had a chance to inspect his surroundings, Satoru noted that Itsuki's and Akari's apartment was spacious with decent furnishing, a stark contrast to his own modest living space, plus three doors, which he assumed led to a bathroom and two bedrooms, alongside a kitchen area, and a spacious leisure area.

Akari led him to the plush, roomy sofa and all three settled next to one another. Satoru seized the opportunity to place the treats on the table, spreading it around.

"Wait, is that the real deal?" Akari's eyes widened with both surprise and delight as she eyed the chocolate like a cat stalking a mouse, fingers already twitching.

"Yes, I thought it wouldn't be polite to visit empty-handed," he replied, feeling a flicker of satisfaction at her reaction.

"You're spoiling me," Akari remarked as she gave him a quick peck on the cheek before seizing the pack of chocolates with predatory intention, claiming over half the stock.

"Bringing sis chocolate is like giving drugs to a street junkie. Now you'll never get rid of her," Pero teased.

Buku let out a low growl, shooting a glare at her pesky brother over Satoru's shoulder. "I have self-control."

"Sure you do. So I know a great mecha series." Pero smoothly switched topics, tapping on his phone to turn on the TV.

Since Satoru didn't subscribe to any streaming apps, he knew little of the newest anime series and thus was unfamiliar with this series.

"Ugh! Ads, pretty soon they'll stream this shit directly into our brains." Pero groaned, activating the TV. "Momo, open the beer, I'll grab some snacks from the kitchen, I can't be a bad host and freeride on your stuff."

With this, his friend rose from the couch and disappeared around the corner. As far as ads went, the first one wasn't particularly remarkable. It was for a Western MMO Satoru had heard mentioned only in passing; World of Warcraft. What struck him as odd was that it was promoting the game's seventy-sixth expansion, considering that most games never passed their third DLC before shutting down or producing a sequel.

"Just how long has that game been a thing to have so many expansions?" Satoru mused aloud, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity and disbelief, as even the fastest updating card games didn't churn out expansions that fast to reach such an astronomical number.

"I think it's the third longest-running MMO, started over a century ago. Some people joke that you aren't a real MMO player if your family lineage hasn't played it since the early days. It sucks that I don't know English well enough to apply as a voice actress, get the right character to voice and you have a well-paying job for life," Buku commented in between bites of chocolate, accepting an open beer can from Satoru.

"Yeah, who wouldn't want to play a game that makes Yggdrasil lore look reasonable, you practically need a doctorate in the games' history to know what the fuck is going on," Pero chimed in as he returned with a plate laden with artificial dry cheese, nuts, and chips.

"Got these bad boys from a side gig." He added, placing the plate down on the table.

As far as Satoru knew, Pero worked as an illustrator and freelance coder, often collaborating with his sister on the same frames and games. So getting gifts from enthusiastic degenerates who commissioned hentai illustrations for fat stacks of money wasn't all that surprising. Rumor had it that the upper echelons of corporate offices and governments were loaded with enjoyers of niche fetishes. His only shortcoming was that he lacked the finesse for creating 3D models worth commercializing, otherwise he could've taken himself to the stratosphere.

Satoru had only indulged in such treats a few times in his lifetime, but he knew tonight promised a great evening. The siblings bickered over the smallest of things, but it was these moments that he had sorely missed, just spending time with friends. It took him a leap of faith to visit them, but in the end… it was worth it. Surrounded by laughter and banter, Satoru felt warmth he hadn't experienced in a long while and realized that he missed this feeling.

Editing by aidan_lo and NabeisWaifu

Proofreading by CakeEight, NabeisWaifu, IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, miraculous-trash, Ainz-sama, LionLover, fvvck, aidan_lo, and Nervy.

Link my discord server (https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2 )

Chapter 2: Volume 1 - Chapter 02

Chapter 2

Satoru's visits had become a regular occurrence as of late. Her brother, Itsuki, casually played it off as having people over and all in good fun, but Akari was perceptive, and she saw through the facade he tried to maintain. Itsuki was meticulously planning these visits for whenever she was happiest, hoping to spark something between her and Satoru. He wanted her to find happiness in life and had chosen the one person he believed would accept her unconditionally for who she was.

Akari scrutinized her reflection in the bathroom mirror… Her face, though still pretty, bore the subtle marks of time and stress typical of her economic status, while her body retained its graceful curves, these were fleeting things, superficial; beneath them lay a woman struggling to take care of herself in more ways than one.

Her back problems began three years ago. It had started with small sensations of flickering pain, but they increased gradually over time until she could barely stand upright, and the pain grew worse by the day.

The memories of her last boyfriend briefly surfaced, stirring a painful, yet dull ache within her. He had left her upon finding out about her condition, picking an easier path with a healthier woman over the difficult journey with her… That was the last time she had felt a man, who wasn't her brother, hold her. That was, at least until Satoru began his regular visits, rekindling old emotions and desires deep within her she thought she had lost with the previous man leaving her.

Akari knew that at some point Satoru had a crush on her, and he wasn't a bad choice; polite, hard-working, kind-hearted towards those he cared for, and on top of that a decent-looking man. She was grimly aware of how starved for affection she was when her friend hugged her, at her insistence. She recalled the times back in the day, when she was still healthy and feeling desirable. She had dropped hints left and right, hoping to encourage him to be more assertive, and only for him.

But he never took that decisive step to ask her out, even though she would have said yes, no matter how awkward his attempt would have been… That was all she wanted from him. Satoru was never good with women, but even he had to realize she was attracted to him. She was never this flirty with other guild members, everyone saw that, but never Satoru. Maybe it was her pride back then that prevented her from being more straightforward? She didn't even know anymore.

As she stood in front of the bathroom mirror, a thin crack barely visible in the light, the weight of her reality pressed down on her… She was ill and there wasn't enough money to fix her problems, the pain in her back, a constant, dull throb; her safety net could barely cover half of the treatment costs at best. Going into debt over an operation that might not even be successful while her future as a voice actress was uncertain due to the increased use of AI didn't seem like a logical choice, and even if her brother chipped in they'd still be in deep debt.

Akari glanced downward and sighed, her thoughts drifting to the apartment around her and its once-vibrant atmosphere, which now felt like a prison. Clutching the sink wasn't enough to not feel the back pain intensify, she needed to decide; living in a dream world where things would magically become better wasn't an option anymore, Satoru's presence had become a bittersweet reminder of what she had lost and what she still yearned for, she couldn't just hope on forever that Satoru would suddenly decide she was worth dating even if she pushed the topic.

Yet she didn't want to just give up on life, despite her fears and insecurities, this time she wouldn't just drop hints, no, this time she would fight for her happiness and make Satoru accept her, and do her best to make him happy as well despite all of her flaws.

In truth, her brother was right; the loneliness was slowly gnawing at her soul, killing her faster than her physical condition ever could. But it wasn't just her suffering that troubled her; she knew she was holding Itsuki back from starting his own family as well. Her brother had even started going on fewer dates as time went on, his concern for her and her health overriding his desires and needs. Today was a rare occurrence when he would leave the house in the evening and leave her alone with Satoru, trusting the latter to watch over her while he went out on a date. As he prepared, Akari watched him with a mixture of gratitude and guilt. Itsuki's departure was a significant gesture, a sign that he trusted Satoru to keep her company, in some unspoken way, to take on a role that went beyond mere friendship.

As Itsuki stepped out for the evening, Akari felt the weight of the moment crashing upon her. The showers that once were enjoyable as one of the few times the pain could be somewhat temporarily relieved now caused stress over her weakest point, her physical body. She washed and shaved as fast as she could, using quantity of soap over quality of wash in her nervousness. She needed to be at her best for possibly the most important turning point of her life.

Akari carefully picked out an outfit that accentuated her figure from her closet, opting for a tight dress with a low cut that highlighted her rather slender curves. For once, she chose lace lingerie instead of her usual underwear, a silent declaration of her intent to reclaim a bit of her lost femininity. The final touch was makeup; given how rarely she went out or appeared before a camera, there was little need to pretty herself up, but tonight was different.

Now fully ready, she waited with a mix of anticipation and anxiety about what was to come. Seeing how Satoru froze on the spot the minute he laid his eyes on her was a decent boost to her ego, one she desperately needed, as his eyes widened, momentarily speechless, and she could see the admiration for her in his gaze. The choice of her dress had achieved the desired effect. A confirmation that she still held the power to captivate, much to her delight.

"Did I come at a bad time? If you plan to go out, I can come over some other time." Satoru finally found his voice, complimenting her appearance with genuine warmth and slight concern. He had received a last-minute message from Itsuki, explaining that something had come up and he wouldn't be able to be home. His friend suggested that he still visit and hang out with Akari. Itsuki had even wished him luck for reasons he couldn't figure out.

"I'm not going out today. I just wanted to dress up a bit. How do I look?" Akari asked, flashing the man a confident smile.

"You look… g-great. Beautiful in fact." He answered with a little stutter, his eyes still wide with surprise.

Akari's smile widened at his response, her heart fluttering. 'He still finds me attractive, but would he stay or just use me as a stepping stone before moving on to a healthy woman?' It wasn't like she was unwilling to give him the necessary experience, but this was about more than that for her. She didn't want to be used again. She wanted to be sure he wouldn't ditch her once his confidence in the opposite sex rose, as it surely would with her.

As they settled on the sofa, she decided to start the conversation with a heavy hitter. "So, why didn't you write to Isobe?"

"I…" Satoru paused, caught off guard by the directness of her question.

She wouldn't wait for him to come up with a bullshit excuse. "Just be honest for once. I want to know why you didn't write to her or any of the other girls I tried to set you up with."

Satoru glanced down, his face flushing slightly."I don't know… I…" he admitted, his voice was low but sincere.

"You're a great guy, you have a stable job, you're good-looking, and I, sure as hell know you have courage, you just don't act on it."

"So does… look can we drop the subject?" Satoru had grown more and more uncomfortable as she rattled on, his voice straining.

"Not this time. Look at me!" She ordered, her tone firm and unyielding.

Satoru didn't face her. He stood up, clearly ready to flee at a hair's trigger. She couldn't let him. Akari leaned over and seized his hand. "Satoru, I am done playing around!"

He pulled his hand away and she moved along with it, jerking off the sofa. A sharp jolt of pain shot through her back from the sudden movement. Akari let out a whimpering scream, the sound piercing the tense atmosphere like a needle through butter. In her recklessness, she hadn't accounted for his resistance, the resistance he had toward being pushed out of his confront zone, and how she would counter it.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," Satoru hastily mumbled, panic flashing in his eyes as he hastily extracted her grasp from his.

"Painkillers. Second shelf. In the kitchen. Bring water." She pointed towards one thing that could ease her suffering, even if only for a short time, leaning back onto the sofa.

'This was stupid. He won't come back after this. I know him… Dammit. I need to play this off.' She still planned her next steps despite the agonizing pain.

Satoru rushed to comply, quickly bringing her the labeled medicine and a cup of water as fast as he could. For a while, they sat in silence as she just breathed heavily, waiting for the pills to do their job. She glanced at the man, guilt apparent on his face.

"It's fine. I shouldn't have grabbed you like that," she sighed, trying to soothe his worry.

"I hurt you. I… how can I make it up to you?" He asked quietly, his voice filled with a mix of regret and guilt.

"Please be honest and tell me why. It is very important to me," She questioned softly, her eyes searching his.

Satoru looked down as he nervously played with his fingers. "I am afraid that once they know me better, they will leave, or they won't even bother to know me if they knew I… I… I've never… you know," he mustered with a nervous shrug of his shoulders.

"I am afraid too," Akari admitted, her voice trembling. "My last boyfriend left me when my health got worse, why would any man settle for me? I'm just holding back my brother, and I don't see things getting any better in the near future. I wouldn't care how experienced a man was, but you know what I am most terrified of?"

"No… What?" Satoru asked softly.

"That I will die alone on the streets as a cripple no one wants." her voice broke, tears spoiling her mascara and staining her face. She hadn't felt this vulnerable for a long time. Akari had done her best to hide her feelings from Itsuke and everyone else she knew. But now it all was ready to come out.

"But you have-"

"He needs to live his own life!" she interrupted, her frustration creeping into her voice. "He is my brother, not my husband. Get your shit together while you can! Dammit! Let me help you get a woman. I missed my-" She paused, her emotions raw for all to see. " You know what, no! I want to be a selfish bitch. I don't want to be alone."

Akari leaned forward and grabbed Satoru's shoulder firmly. "I don't want to be alone, and I don't want to give you to another woman, I know you still like me, so take me!" she declared, her voice raw with need as her back threatened to flare up again, but she ignored it, pressing on.

Satoru jerked his head back in surprise, and Akari didn't wait for an answer, instead choosing to fall onto him and go straight for a desperate kiss.

Satoru didn't resist or push her away. She felt his arms wrap around her, strong and secure as she wanted. He wasn't as weak as she assumed, he was a grown man after all. She grasped the back of his head, her fingers tangling in his hair as she parted her lips. He followed her lead, their kiss deepening with each passing second. Passion lingered in the air.

"I won't let you leave me, I will do everything to make you happy," She whispered between kisses.

"I won't leave you," He assured her, his words muffled against her desperate lips.

"Then have me, I don't want to be alone anymore." Her hand moved to unbutton his pants, her touch determined. "I will guide you, you don't have to worry about anything."

She didn't need to worry. Satoru wasn't as stiff and unresponsive as she had feared he would be. As she invaded his pants, his hands moved to help her out of her dress, just as she hoped, under the shy exterior was the man she wanted, no, craved.

"Carry me to the bed," She purred in his ear, as her lips and tongue explored his face and neck, her hot breath caressing his neck, causing goosebumps all over his skin, and with a deep breath, he let his reservations melt away, surrendering to the moment, and to her.

In the privacy of her room, they wouldn't get interrupted by the sudden reappearance of her brother. She could afford to be as passionate as she wanted and by Gods, didn't she want to make Satoru's first time memorable. She traced the lines of his chest with her fingertips as waves of desire washed over her, suppressing even her back's screams for attention.

Soft moans, whispers of sweet nothings, words of encouragement. She offered them all to her man.

He was attentive, he was gentle, and above all, he wanted her; the desire radiating from Satoru was intoxicating… How much she had longed to have that feeling again, as they lay tangled in each other, their breath coming in ragged gasps, Akari couldn't believe how perfectly they fit together.

Her hands moved about his back, her nails dug into his skin. With each touch and caress, he moved at a perfect pace, each movement bringing her closer and closer to heaven, leaving them both intoxicated with pleasure.

<X>

Akari awoke with an unpleasant beep piercing the tranquil morning air. A phone somewhere nearby was blasting the cursed song, 'You Have to Wake Up.' It wasn't her song nor her alarm. The disruptive noise grated against her awakening senses, shrilling against her desire to sleep.

With muttered annoyance, she shifted around with an annoyed grunt and blindly felt around for the damned object, wherever it would be.

"Sorry, I have to go to work." Satoru apologized, his voice cutting through the jarring melody as he silenced her tormentor.

"Kisses, be back as soon as you can," She mumbled, her voice laced with reluctance.

Satoru leaned down to give her a quick peck on the lips, but she was having none of it. Akari's arms wrapped around his neck as she pulled him in for a proper kiss.

"You want me to come back here right after work?" her man inquired, his voice soft with surprise.

"Yes, I told you, you're not getting rid of me. I want you in my bed every night!" She declared, her tone determined and possessive. She didn't let go of him.

"Sure, but won't Itsuki-" Satoru began, his concern for her brother apparent in his voice.

"Nope. He won't be mad about you. Be back soon ok? I want more of you." she insisted, cutting him off with a teasing yet demanding tone as her eyes searched deep in his.

"I'll try." He gave one last kiss and gently broke out of her embrace, reaching for a shirt.

Akari sleepily pouted and sunk back into her pillow. Before sleep claimed her, she heard Satoru leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

She awoke three hours later from the noise made by her alarm clock. As free as her day was, she still adhered to office hours, ready to do emergency work at a moment's notice, and voice lines whenever needed. A few projects she was involved in were in the last stages of development, and sometimes it was just an additional line or cute sound that was needed for a scene about to be tested or needed to be re-done for any number of reasons.

As much as she enjoyed the lovemaking the night before, her back surely didn't. It took a lot out of her to leave the bed and put on a morning robe, even for her. She reluctantly grabbed her cane which she rarely used, feeling like an old geezer when she did so. But there were no other options especially if she wanted to leave the room on her own. The wheelchair was too impractical for home use so it collected dust in the corner.

Itsuki was already at the kitchen table, engrossed in writing code and munching on a 'Real Strawberry Jam Sandwich.' He had bought them in bulk a week ago since they were tasty and likely usable for human consumption, plus weren't too expensive.

"Morning sis. So how did it go?" he asked absentmindedly, glancing up briefly.

"Since when is my private life your business?" She countered, slowly making her way to the table, her steps deliberate despite the shrieking ache in her back.

"Just asking. Coffee?" Itsuki replied casually, already pouring her morning liquid into the largest cup they had.

"In the big cup. Didn't get too much sleep," Akari sighed as she accepted the coffee, grateful for the warmth spreading through her pained body.

"Nice. I would've sent him a virtual high five, well, if he had gotten laid with a decent woman." Itsuki teased as he poured more into his cup.

"You keep running your mouth and I will tell you in great detail what we did." She openly threatened her brother playfully after taking a large gulp of the bitter coffee. "Dammit, you forgot sweetener!"

"That shit tastes like glue. I don't get how you can stomach it." Itsuki got up and fished out a handful of packets for her from the drawer. "I'll pass on the dirty details as much as you want to blog about it as the perv you are, but I want to know the general status. So…" Itsuki continued, undeterred by his sister's warning.

"He promised to be back after work." Akari interrupted as she broke into a smile, her eyes brightening at the mention of Satoru.

"That's great, though give him some time before pulling the ring trick." Itsuki went back to teasing his sister, grinning.

"I won't propose, you idiot. That's his job!" She screeched, though her tone held more amusement rather than anger.

Itsuki just chuckled in response, taking another bite of his breakfast sandwich. Seeing his sister happy was so rare as of late and nostalgic that he almost reverted to his younger asshole self who used every opportunity to take a jab at her. She had finally begun to move on.

"Anyhow, I won't be too pushy, the last thing I need is him getting cold feet," Akari continued, her voice softening as she took another gulp of coffee and stifled a yawn.

"Aha, you think I don't see you writing him a message already like a fifteen-year-old to your first crush?"

"Fuck you, I just wished him an easy work day. I can show that I care. That's not being pushy but affectionate, you shit for brains. He won't get cold feet." Her anxiety bubbled on the surface as she stared down at the phone screen with a nervous gulp. The fear that Satoru would use her as a stepping stone was still there, no matter how much she denied the idea that he would be that kind of guy.

"I doubt that'll happen, as little hope as I have in you, I don't believe you will fuck this up; that guy's built differently," Itsuki remarked, faith in his friend palpable.

"Gee, thanks," She hissed sarcastically, but couldn't help but break into a smile again. There was something reassuring in her brother's words, that Satoru was different from her previous boyfriends, and that fact gave her hope that he wouldn't just walk away.

Editing By NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by: aidan_lo, NabeisWaifu, Ainz-sama, IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, and Nervy, miraculous-trash, fvvck

Link my discord server (https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2 )

Chapter 3: Volume 1 - Chapter 03

Chapter 3

At first, living with someone else was challenging; it felt like navigating a maze blindfolded with pitfalls at every wrong turn. Despite that fact, in the end, it was the most fulfilling experience of his life, surpassing even his nostalgic childhood. With all her quirks and imperfections, Akari still made his life infinitely better just by being there. Her presence was like a ray of sunshine breaking through the storm clouds, giving light to his once-dull life. Sure, she had flaws, as she rarely picked after herself, leaving a trail of clothes and random objects in her wake, to which Itsuki said was probably his fault for enabling while chuckling. She was strong-willed and stubborn at times, but she was also loving, caring, and supportive, always asking about his day and helping him forget the hardships of life.

She could instantly pick up when he was in a bad mood or too tired and did her best to brighten his day. Akari always ensured he didn't neglect himself for her sake, always giving back what she could. She wasn't lazy by any means; Akari was hard-working, only somewhat disorganized— a reflection of her boundless energy and enthusiasm more than anything else. She was only in need of narrowing her attention to immediate tasks.

In just three months, Satoru had moved in with his girlfriend and adapted to their new life. His free time became their free time, filled with such moments as watching shows or playing games together. Akari no longer neglected her well-being; she now took proper time to rest and recharge, which only helped her body further. Although she still actively sought out lucrative roles to voice, especially in the indie market where any one game could become a smash hit overnight, she also attempted to find game studios that weren't solely focused on designing hentai content, even if most of her portfolio consisted of such.

Like every other day, Satoru rushed home after a quick detour to shop for food and household supplies, as he was eager to unwind and share the evening with Akari. To his surprise, he found her sitting on the sofa, her entire body trembling like a leaf; panic seized him, rooting him on the spot, he felt his heart drop, praying that the worst wouldn't happen.

"Did something-" he hurriedly asked before his voice trailed off as he started peeling off the protective suit as fast as he could, almost ripping the fabric in two as he hurled it to its hook. His movements were frantic. He could see the weight of her distress pressing down on her shoulders, Akari looked like she could use some consoling, and it was his utmost responsibility to ease her mind, to be the rock she could cling to amidst the storm.

"So, you remember Alien Hunter Galaxy?" She asked, her voice shaking.

"Of course, What is going on?!" The game she was referring to was one of many Akari had voiced over the past few months. It was a fun adventure game with a lot to do, from casual eating to fast-paced shooting. She had embodied the voice and face of the main heroine, taking a leading role in the game's production.

A small indie team had poured two years of passion into making the game. Unable to pay her much, they offered a percentage of the profits, which turned out to be mere pocket change according to their predicted statistics. Despite this, Akari was happy to help them, especially since she liked the game a lot and had played it almost to death in its beta and after its release. Plus, cash was cash, and she voiced out her parts whenever she had spare time during her work hours.

"So… an influencer picked it up and made a viral video… the game has sold more copies than I, and the devs, ever anticipated," Akari patted the spot next to her on the couch, her eyes wide with both excitement and disbelief as she shook.

"That is good news, right? Extra money won't hurt." Satoru rushed over and embraced her, offering himself.

She leaned in close, her breath warm against his ear with tears in her eyes. "Two million copies and it's only picking up the pace by the hour. They will send the royalties to me at the end of this week," she whispered, her voice shaking so much he could barely understand her.

"Wait, you mean-?"

"We're freaking rich!" She squealed in his ear, her voice piercing the air with uncontainable excitement.

Satoru winced, his ears still ringing from her outburst, as his girlfriend squeezed the breath out of him with all the strength she could muster.

"That's great, you can finally have the operation!" he gasped, his voice strained under her ecstatic embrace.

"I will! But first-." She pulled him into a fervent kiss, her delicate lips capturing his with a fierce passion.

"Shouldn't we go to the bedroom?" He asked, knowing Akari wouldn't calm down until she had drained every bit of energy out of him and then some. Despite the limitations of her body, she was plain insatiable at times, demanding more than any man could give.

"Wait… first we celebrate. We just need the birdbrain home." She took a deep breath in a bid to steady herself. "Horny can wait… I think."

"Are you sure? I know you," He chuckled in response.

"Yes, there is one thing I want to do before that." She glanced at the door, and as if on cue, it swung open with Itsuki barging in, hastily removing his protective suit and filter while hanging up Satoru's.

"Shit, I didn't make it in time," he groaned. "Sorry sis, traffic was a nightmare."

"It's fine. I expected that you would fuck this up!" She hissed, her eyes narrowed at her brother.

"What are you two up to?" Satoru inquired, confusion furrowing his brows as he observed the odd exchange between the siblings.

"She can tell you." Itsuki dropped a small box into his sister's hands and disappeared into his room, adding over his shoulder. "No banging in public spaces!"

"Umm…" Satoru grew only more confused, his mind racing to catch up.

Akari looked at Satoru, her eyes sparkling with mischief and excitement. "Just a little surprise," she giggled, presenting a small, crimson box in her delicate hands." I was thinking we should make it official before it hits big. You know, so all sorts of shitheads out there don't get the wrong idea once I'm in the public eye. I want to be seen as a taken woman." With a delicate motion, she opened the box.

Inside lay two gleaming golden rings, their brilliance reflecting the uncertain glow of the room. Akari didn't need to say anything else; her intent was clear, and he understood what she meant even if wearing wedding rings weren't a widespread tradition in Japan. Not that he had ever dreamed of having one, given his economic status.

But with the kind of money, Akari would gain from royalties, she would be able to afford her operation and much more, and the attention would garner her more clout in the video game elite circles, leading to more popular game companies reaching out to her with more money offers, which could give her even more time in the spotlight, and the circle would continue. No wonder she was utilizing her newfound wealth now as she was.

"This is kinda sudden. Are you sure?" Satoru asked, his voice filled with overwhelming astonishment and confusion at the sudden proposal.

"You still wanted to be with me, even after I was seen as nothing but a burden in the future, so now I want to share with you my success," she replied softly, her words carrying a tinge of vulnerability. "Please… say yes and let's get married before I have to appear in public events." She glanced downward and awkwardly mumbled, high-pitched, "I told you, you're never getting rid of me."

"Then I don't have a choice anyway do I?" He kissed her gently, taking the smaller ring and guiding it onto her ring finger.

"Nope! You are mine forever." She giggled excitedly, catching her brother break into a smile as he spied on them from around the corner as Satoru leaned into her.

<X>

"I'll probably have to visit in a hazmat suit from now on, knowing that no surface will be left undefiled, now that I'm leaving." Itsuki sighed dramatically while shaking his head. "I expect my first niece or nephew next year."

"You keep running your mouth and I will make it my mission to defile every surface of your new place when we visit!" Akari cackled like a maniac, her laughter delightfully echoing through the room.

With the operation being successful and numerous active physical therapy sessions done and scheduled, Akari had regained most of her former mobility, and was now capable of even power walking. It was a testament to the power of money in solving nearly all problems known to mankind, and just how different those with money versus those who didn't were. Satoru also benefited greatly, seeing his wife growing more active, no longer writhing in constant pain, and becoming more adventurous in their intimate activities as she showered him with affection. She still voiced her frustrations about not being able to do everything she wanted, but there was hope that with time it would all become a possibility, a vision discouraged by the doctors they could now afford to visit.

Not even the best doctors in the world could undo the damage to her body and a prolonged recovery time was needed for pain as severe as hers. Perhaps if only she was even richer, they could've afforded the miraculous medicines the richest had, but it was progress, and it was hope.

"Not if I manage to mark my territory first," Itsuki teased as he openly abused his superior reflexes and jumped forward, appearing beside his sister.

Before she knew it, he had his arm around her neck, pulling her closer, and roughly ruffling her hair with affection.

Akari screeched and attempted to elbow his side, but her brother dodged the assault with ease, anticipating such a move as he laughed out loud.

"You goddamn bastard!" She growled, taking a step in her brother's direction.

"Welp! She's your problem now, Satoru. I do not envy you one bit." Itsuki teased, only adding fuel to the fire as he danced away.

"The only one we should pity is Hirori, she'll have to deal with your sorry ass," Akari shot back, her tone sharp with sibling banter.

Itsuki was about to retort but was interrupted when a notification beeped on his phone. "Looks like they have finished packing the stuff. I have to go now."

"Love you, sis." Itsuki embraced Akari, who hugged him as tightly as her back managed. It was no bear hug, but it was noticeably stronger than a few months ago.

"Remember to invite us once you're settled," she reminded, her tone turning somber.

"It's not like it's the end of the world. I still live in Tokyo," He replied reassuringly, releasing her from the tight embrace.

"Take care of her, buddy." He patted Satoru's shoulder, put on the protective mask, and prepared to leave.

And just like that, the apartment Akari had shared with her brother for three and a half years was now hers and her fiance's. Alone, except for each other.

"It will be strange without birdbrain around." She commented with a touch of melancholy in her voice.

"You can video call him later," Satoru reminded her gently.

"No freaking way! He should be the one who calls first." She rejected the proposal with a huff as she closed the door.

"You're being stubborn again," Satoru chuckled before wrapping his arms around her from behind.

"No, I'm not. If he misses me, he would call, not the other way around," She grumbled, leaning into his embrace.

"So what are we going to do today? You have nothing planned?" Satoru had become his wife's assistant for the last two months after quitting his salaried job, due to her insistence, when she hit it big as a voice actress. This change helped tremendously in keeping his rather disorganized wife on track, while also helping distribute funds between the couple. She had already forgotten about a few, less important interviews before he had to step in with a reminder and a few promises of affection later.

"We could watch something dirty and then start defiling the surfaces. The couch can be our first victim," She purred as she glanced into his eyes mischievously.

"A sound plan." He agreed, reaching under her shirt to gently stroke at her sides.

"Mmm, let's get to the couch first, I want to savor the moment." She broke out of his grip, grasped his hand, and led her husband towards the living room.

She pushed Satoru down onto the couch, settling in his lap while browsing through the many hentais she had bookmarked for later use. "How do you like this one? A couple got isekai'd and are young again."

"Just how many isekai-themed ones have you bookmarked?" Satoru asked, chuckling upon seeing the long list of smut his wife had picked for their enjoyment.

"A few… You know I like the genre, imagine it; We get sent to another world, I become your brave knight, and you, my handsome wizard."

"Shouldn't it be the other way around?" he said, amused, raising a brow, a smirk plastered on his lips.

"Nope, you always play casters anyway, so I get to be the knight with a boob plate and everything," Akari smirked. "You know, I should get a 3D-printed set. Something easily openable, and we could order a robe for you."

"Sure." He agreed without hesitation. She liked to cosplay, and he benefited greatly from it, as she happily portrayed his favorite characters anytime he asked her. And since she enjoyed it, relishing in the attention, she was always on the lookout for more opportunities

"Great." She pressed the confirm button on the hentai she had chosen, and the TV flickered to life.

And if on cue, like all the times before, they were greeted with an advertisement for World of Warcraft.

"Just what the hell is with this ad?! Why am I seeing it everywhere?" Akari complained with a groan in her voice.

"I am not sure. I have noticed it as well. Have you checked the game's homepage by accident?" He asked.

"Nope. Some stupid algorithm has decided that we need to play it, I refuse to be influenced by ads," she grumbled, crossing her arms defiantly as if the screen could send input back to the company from her sheer disappointment alone.

"I don't think playing an MMO is a good idea. It would take too much time and effort to get to an acceptable level."

Akari broke into laughter. "You, out of all people, don't want to play an MMO?!"

"Well, I found something better." Satoru chuckled, pulling her closer. He ran his fingers through her lush, cascading, raven-black hair, as he gently massaged her scalp with his left arm. He knew exactly where she liked to be scratched.

"Mmm, I won't argue with that." She sighed contentedly, leaning into his touch, a content smile gracing her face.

The invasive ads, as annoying as they were, had become a part of their daily life. After the short interruption, the show finally started. As such, the first few minutes were spent showing a couple navigating their ordinary lives, eerily similar to Akari and Satoru's, but in a nontoxic and non-dystopian world, stated to be in the past Earth. Then came the big event; the two protagonists were transformed into powerful heroes with exaggerated features of fantastical extremes. What followed was the first raunchy sex scene, barely related to the plot which ended with the couple breaking the bed and apologizing to an innkeeper.

"Would you like it if I had a pair like that? Motorboating looks like fun." Akari commented teasingly, grinning.

"Yours are great as well." Satoru went for a diplomatic answer as his lips twitched into a smile.

"As a curator of your waifu folder I, in fact, know you like them big," Akari giggled.

"Using this information against me is unfair," Satoru protested.

"I was just thinking I could get mine a few sizes bigger for your enjoyment."

"You don't have to do it. You're perfect as you are. And your pair is fantastic."

"Sure but I mean I could get them even better just imagine the-" Akari began, only to be interrupted by the synchronized beeps from both their phones. "Really? Which asshole sensed I had free time?" she added, her voice betraying a hint of annoyance.

Satoru just stared at the message while his wife continued her rant. "The story designer wants to change the lines from seven hundred and six to seven hundred eighty. The revised script is in the attachment sent along. The game director wants the new lines done by morning so we can update the test version ASAP."

"I dream of the day when I can deliver a foot up the ass through the internet!" Akari fumed, clearly vexed by the interruption.

Despite having minor celebrity status, Akari lacked a strong enough presence on the internet to take the risk of losing her current job as the game she worked on promised even more exposure. The chaotic, and most of the time, inhuman work schedules of game developers never took into account the fact that people had lives outside of work. They had dozens of coders, if not hundreds, but she was just one person.

"I'll get the coffee going." Satoru sighed, standing up and stretching his limbs.

"I'll make it up to you after the recording session is complete. Get the cream and sugar ready. I'll send them an invoice for that shit," Akari replied as she gave him a quick kiss, standing with a slight wobble.

"Careful!" Satoru cried, grabbing at her.

"I'm fine. Lost my sense of balance for a second there. Besides, I have my strong man to catch me if I fall." She winked, flashing him a smile as she slowly walked to the bedroom, where one corner had been turned into a small recording booth, with a microphone and padding.

There was no point in arguing with her about it, after all, Akari often stretched the borders of what the doctors had said she was allowed to do. At least she listened to his concerns most of the time and heeded some of them.

As these emergency recording sessions went, Akari needed to be fueled by caffeine and sweets, which he would provide as she worked. Their time together could wait for a few hours, finances came first.

As Satoru prepared the coffee, he glanced out the expansive window that dominated the wall of their apartment. The transparent material was stronger and lighter than any glass from the past, made of nanotechnology none of them could wrap their minds around. Their apartment was situated on the 80th floor, not quite the highest but in the upper portion of their relatively short skyscraper.

The view from their apartment was both awe-inspiring and disheartening, with the skyline dominated by impossibly tall skyscrapers, a testament to progressive ingenuity and overpopulation of humanity. The sunlight that filtered through was muted and sickly, struggling to penetrate the thick layers of pollution, if at all. The ground below was a labyrinth of crowded streets, shrouded in the perpetual smog of human waste and greed. Automated drones zipped through the hazy, toxic sky, their mechanical hum providing constant cacophonous background noise.

The aroma of the coffee, artificially made since all-natural plant life had died years ago, snapped him out of his reverie. Satoru turned away from the window, looking around their miniature kitchen, compact and efficient. It was designed for minimal use since cooking had become effectively obsolete, replaced by readily processed food produced in factories. He noticed the small cleaning robot diligently cleaning the coffee grounds that had spilled, its small, extendable arms moving with precision.

Satoru returned with the coffee and sweets, placing the cup beside her. "Here you go."

He would pass the time assisting his wife while daydreaming about getting isekai'd to a fantasy world and going on a great adventure together. As good as life was now for them, they still lived in what amounted to a hell compared to even what past humans had experienced, let alone those of the wealthiest, and no amount of wealth they could ever get their hands on would change that. The dream of walking through lush fields under clear skies was an unattainable one, but a dream nonetheless.

Editing by NabeisWaifu

Proofreading by IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, LionLover, Ainz-sama, NabeisWaifu, and Nervy, miraculous-trash, fvvck

Link my discord server (https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2 )

Chapter 4: Volume 1 - Chapter 04

Chapter 4

There was something off about the scenery around them. Satoru distinctly remembered falling asleep in his and Akari's bed, half-dressed and bundled in blankets. Now, he stood on a grassy trail winding through a lush green forest, devoid of any blankets whatsoever. He was puzzled by the sudden change but began to notice the details around him as his senses slowly returned, the surprise sharpening his mind. The air, first and foremost, was crisp and clean, a stark contrast to the poisonous atmosphere he was accustomed to. Each breath filled his lungs with the refreshing scent of pine and wildflowers, incomparable to the filtered air through his masks and suits. The forest was alive with the sound of rustling leaves and distant bird calls, adding to the surreal quality of his new surroundings, sounds he had heard only in media like Yggdrasil.

"Is this a dream?" A muffled female voice beside him asked.

Satoru turned to see his wife standing beside him, her eyes wide with wonder and shock. She was dressed in a short summer dress that danced in the soft breeze, one she had only worn once on a date. Glancing down, he noticed that he was clad in white pants and a partly buttoned white shirt that felt light and comfortable against his skin, purchased for appearances whenever he went out to represent Akari as her secretary.

"I think so. Seems like a very pleasant dream," Satoru replied, taking in the impossibly vivid scenery. Every detail was so clear, it felt surreal, to feel and see and hear and smell all of this.

"Wait, dream characters aren't supposed to acknowledge it's a dream!" Akari animatedly protested, growing increasingly confused.

"I don't think I'm a dream character. I vividly remember going to sleep next to you," He retorted, now wondering if this Akari wasn't a figment of his imagination dreamt up by his mind.

"Holy hell. We're having a shared dream! And a lucid one at that!" She waved her hands frantically, taking sharp breaths. "Be calm, you don't want to fuck this up and end the dream," she declared animatedly, trying to calm her frantic self.

Satoru smiled and grabbed her hand. "You'll be fine. Let's see where this goes."

"You're right, this road looks like it wants us to follow it," She commented, her agitation melting away at his touch.

Akari locked fingers with her husband walking with newfound grace. Her dream body shared none of her real-life ailments, free from the chronic aches and pains that once plagued her, leaving her feeling light, strong, and no longer feeling the effects of a once weak body, meaning she felt more aware of their new surroundings. She tilted her head back, her eyes tracing the contours of the sky above. It was brilliant, cloudless blue, unmarred and unobscured by the smog and haze of her world, vividly ingrained in her mind. Perhaps they had arrived in paradise?

The scenery became clearer with every step they took, revealing its pristine perspective. The sun shone brightly above them, casting a warm, golden light all around. Around them, the forest seemed alive in a way that was both unfamiliar and alien, yet strangely not hostile. The trees whispered through their rustling leaves, and the ground beneath pulsed with an energy they couldn't comprehend. Shadows danced in the corner of their vision, and the air buzzed with a strange, electric vitality that kept both of them on their toes.

The vibrant colors around them shimmered with a surreal intensity, each leaf and blade of grass practically glowing with life. The sounds of nature graced their ears with the gained sharpness, impossible to experience in the waking world even with the best of readily accessible technologies. The gentle wind swayed the trees with such a calming effect that for a moment she thought they had entered heaven.

"I didn't know something so wonderful could exist. It's so much better than the parks in Tokyo. Hell, they wouldn't even compare," She commented, squeezing his hand once more. The land was, by all metrics, perfect.

Satoru nodded, "It's almost too perfect, I wonder why both of us are here. This cannot be just a nice dream," he added as his ears perked to the sounds of birds chirping melodiously from the branches, their songs a harmonious symphony with the rustling leaves. Satoru was once again the voice of suspicion of the two, being the man of logic and reason he was.

Akari frowned slightly, he was right. Most of her dreams were the reflection of her daily life struggles, being muffled, gray, and uninspiring. She never had a dream this lucid before, especially not with her husband tagging along. At most they were nightmares, culminations of her fears of being abandoned for who she was, as a person and the struggles she faced as a voice actor. Who knew how long they would have this experience? What was the purpose of this? How did this happen? Why did this happen?

"I guess we'll find out once we reach the end of this road," She replied.

The trail twisted through the forest scenery for quite a while, the tranquility of their surroundings lulling them into a quiet yearning to stay here, for eternity, if need be. The lush greenery and the occasional butterflies, with their enchanted wings, created a truly magical atmosphere, in stark contrast with the polluted and gray, harsh world of reality.

As they walked down the last loop of the trail, hand in hand, they eventually reached a small clearing showered with the light of the bright midday sun. In the center, a girl with messy blood-red hair sat cross-legged on a tree stump, engrossed in what appeared to be manga. Her round face was impossibly symmetrical, her button nose twitching as her large purple eyes shifted from panel to panel. If Satoru had to guess, he would pin the girl as caucasian, no more than 15 years of age. There was something otherworldly about this girl despite the contemporary casual clothing she wore, being far too good for what their imaginations could produce.

The baggy, light blue jeans hung loosely on her thin frame, and the tight, red t-shirt was decorated with a silhouette of some skeletal, predatory creature. Akari and Satoru exchanged curious glances, both sensing that this girl held the key to understanding their dreamlike situation. They approached her cautiously, the former slightly behind the latter.

"Heya! You're finally here." She looked up from her reading material and greeted them with a cheerful smile.

"Who are you?" Akari asked, her voice tinged with wariness.

"Oh, I am Artemel, your diligent benefactor of sorts." The girl replied as the manga faded away from her hands, in a way that reminded them of items disappearing into a storage dimension in an MMORPG. It was both bewildering and fascinating to witness something to just un-materialize itself.

"Benefactor?" Satoru eyed the girl with suspicion, his gaze narrowing.

"A lot of good things have happened in your lives recently, haven't they?" Artemel continued, her voice melodious and slightly teasing. She phased into a standing position in front of them, slightly startling them with the quick movement. Her height barely reached Akari's, who was of average height for a Japanese woman, and was slightly shorter than Satoru.

"And you did that? Who are you exactly? I don't see fox tails on you so you're not a kitsune," Akari commented with a poker face, her voice laden with skepticism. She may not have been a strong believer in religions, but she knew a decent amount of Shinto and Japanese folklore given that much of her work involved voicing them. The red-haired girl's appearance, as well as the name Artemel, didn't ring any bells, but her demeanor gave off the mischievousness of the fox spirits she had read about.

Artemel chuckled softly, her lips curling into a playful smirk. "I'm not a kitsune. I'm something… a bit different, besides, that's your shtick. With all the pluggable tails," she teased, sticking out her pink, glossy tongue curled at the tip in a lewd manner.

"How the hell do you know that? Do you spy on us all the time, you perv?!" Akari screamed in embarrassment, her face turned crimson.

"Pot calling the kettle black." Artemel shook her finger right in Akari's face. "Your benefactor, remember? I know everything about the life of you two."

"But why are we here then?" Satoru inquired in hopes of defusing the brewing tension between his wife and this mysterious girl. Knowing the stubbornness of his wife he could only hope Artemel wasn't her match in this regard.

"I am getting to that point. So… Earth is boring. Like, really boring," Artemel rolled her beautiful eyes, which shimmered in the rays of the overhead sun. "Even if I made you filthy rich, there aren't that many interesting things for you to do. How about I give you an interesting choice?"

"What choice? You don't imply this is-" Akari's eyes widened as she trailed off. She couldn't help but compare the current predicament to countless scenes from isekai media where protagonists met a deity who sent them to a different world on an important mission, usually to defeat a great evil of some sort, or perhaps said entity had made a mistake that broke the world's rules and thus had to make up in some way.

"Bingo, this is exactly what you think." Artemel twirled around, the entire scene following her in a blur.

Suddenly, she was sitting in a red leather chair, perched in the midst of a dimly lit, run-down apartment. The flickering lights cast eerie shadows on the cracked walls and peeling paint around them, and Artemel's attire had transformed. She was now dressed in a tight leather outfit adorned with an open leather coat. Her once tousled hair was now slicked back, framed by small round sunglasses perched playfully on her nose. She extended her arms towards them, holding two azure blue pills in her right palm and two crimson-red ones in her left.

"Is this a reference to something?" Akari asked, bemused by the bizarre gesture, the whole scene was too weird not to ask such a question and this entity seemed to be highly engaged and familiar to Earth's media.

"No idea. I might have seen this somewhere." Satoru replied nonchalantly with a shrug of his shoulders, as his gaze shifted from Artamel to Akari.

"Don't ruin this for me!" Artemel grumbled with a pout that contrasted with the intensity of her strong gaze.

"Sorry, carry on." Satoru apologized, unsure about what they were supposed to do in this strange scenario.

"You have a choice. If you take the blue pills: the story ends, you'll wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want." Artemel explained, her voice carrying a weight of gravity despite her playful demeanor, as she paused dramatically, her eyes glinting with an otherworldly sparkle peering above the small round sunglasses perched on her nose. "You take the red ones: I'll show you how deep the rabbit hole goes."

"What exactly are we picking? We aren't some naive fifteen-year-old twats who'd fall for this," Akari remarked, peering down at the girl with a disappointed look.

"Aaaaand you just had to spoil the fun," Artemel retorted with resignation. "Fine… the blue ones means you return to your old, mundane life, but if you pick red ones, I can whisk you away to a fantasy world to do all the great things your little selves can muster," Artemel continued flatly, her eyes glaring up at the pair.

"What are you getting out of this? For all we know, we could be signing up to terrible fates?" Satoru added skeptically, his eyes narrowing as he considered the implication. He wasn't convinced picking the red pills was a good idea. If a deal was too good to be true, it usually was. There was no such thing as a free lunch.

"Why am I even trying? I knew it would end up like this! If you want details, I'll give them. If you return to your lives, all that awaits you is, living to about sixty before your bodies give out and die, given your lame and horrible conditions as mortals. Your souls will likely drift apart forever, never to be united again after death. What I'm freaking offering you is the power to shape your flippin' fates!" Artamel's voice rose sharply, punctuating her frustration.

"I've been leading you two on for months to understand the idea of being isekai'd, manipulating dozens of people to plant just the right concepts, and now all I get is two paranoid geezers who need to be sold on the idea of leaving behind that junkyard of an Earth for a more glorious fate! Now pick or I'll get mad, and you don't want me mad!" Artemel ranted, her eyes blazing.

"Who are you calling a geezer, squirt?" Akari shot back, her temper flaring.

"Squirt? I am older than all of your reincarnations combined! It's not me who is a fossil at thirty!" Artemel retorted as she glared back.

"That's it!" Akari raised her fist, ready for a confrontation.

"Bring it!" Artemel jumped to her feet, equally ready to have a fist-fight.

Satoru, knowing this won't end well, intervened, grabbing Akari and roaring. "Both of you, stop acting like children!"

"Sorry!" both girls responded in unison, their voices echoing with surprise.

"Wait, why am I apologizing? I'm the one in charge here!" Artemel scratched her head, then took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure. "Pick now!" she demanded, her tone striving for authority.

"Relax. We just wanted more information," Akari sighed, turning to Satoru with a mischievous smile. "We wanted this."

"That we did." Satoru picked up the red pills, handing one to Akari and tossing the other in his mouth as she took it.

His wife followed his lead and swallowed the pill as well, "Huh, why do I taste… what is this?"

"Those are cherry candies. Here, take the blue ones too; they're blueberry-flavored." Artemel returned to a cheerful demeanor as the scene reverted to the lush forest. Her appearance morphed back to the casual attire.

"Wait, if those are just candies then why did you-?" Akari started, her confusion evident.

"So you accept the choice you made. I already knew what you would choose, so let's start the transformation!" Artemel's voice was filled with excitement as she prepared to reveal the next stage of their journey, much to the couple's concerns.

Satoru felt strange, the feeling wasn't bad, just weird, as if he was gently getting electrocuted, but there was no pain whatsoever. His heart stopped when he saw his wife melt into a puddle of red goo, glistening and gelatinous. He reached out, only to find his hands had become skeletal, devoid of all human flesh.

"Wha…" He gasped, feeling his lungs shut down, but instead of suffocation, a wave of calmness washed over him instead.

"What in the ever-living fuck is this!?" Akari let out an echoey scream from her jelly form, surprised.

"Relax. Just the first step of the process. I needed to turn you into Momonga and Bukubukuchagama first." Artemel brushed off her panic nonchalantly while pressing buttons on a translucent, floating UI panel.

"Relax!? You turned me into a pile of slime and my husband into a skeleton! Are you mental!?" Akari, now evidently Buku, lunged at the girl but froze mid-air.

"Explain!" Satoru demanded. His new form had grown to the impressive height of two meters, fully becoming his game avatar, clad in a midnight black robe adorned with an intricate golden embroidery. His skeletal frame was stark white, gleaming like polished ivory, his ribcage exposed showing not only the pristine white bones but an ominous red orb glowing within. A dark halo-like object glimmered right behind his head, and a pair of tiny dark red flames emanated from deep within his empty eye sockets, adding to his fearsome presence. His hands, though bony, moved with a fluid grace of a fully fit man, each finger tipped with sharp, claw-like appendages. Ten rings now adored his fingers, nine new ones joining his wedding ring, which had somehow survived this … conversion. His wife had reverted to her game avatar; it was an odd-looking pink flesh. A formless red slime with shining orbs floating within her gelatinous mass, her appearance seemed quite grotesque.

"Calm down you two, give me a few minutes and you'll both be happy, it's a promise." Artemel gave them a reassuring smile.

"How? You turned us into… this!" Akari's voice trembled, growing increasingly agitated, her gelatinous form quivering.

"Five minutes. And if you don't like it, I will turn you back into humans, just keep calm, deal?" Artemel replied with a disarming smile.

"Let's see where this goes," Satoru agreed as he walked up to his wife and placed his skeletal hand gently on top of her highest point in a reassuring gesture. It was safe to assume he wouldn't be able to harm the entity that was playing with them like disposable toys, and neither would his wife. They were at her complete mercy and whims, possibly more given her previous statements of having supposedly been responsible for their changes back in reality. If she could do it there and here, there was no reason to not expect her to be able to do it once she finished whatever she was doing.

"Good. Now let's see. First, race changes… I know!" Artemel's eyes sparkled with excitement, "I will call your race Supreme Beings."

"What does it mean?" Satoru inquired, his interest piqued. This term surely indicated that he and Akari would be quite strong, and was akin to the jargon Yggrasil's NPCs sometimes used. She had already drawn on the game for their avatars, he could begin to see the patterns forming.

"In short, I'll give you both all sorts of neat abilities, the main ability being the ability to use any force and even generate them if you have enough magical reserves. You'll love it."

"What do you mean by generating force?" Akari, now more accepting as Buku, inquired, her voice echoing eerily.

"There are a lot of natural forces in the reality I'm sending you to, such as light, void, death, order, disorder - that sort of thing. All magic is related to these forces. You two will be able to use them at your leisure with almost no consequences with my modifications. Mind you, there'll be some, so at least learn about what you're using, but even they'll be tapered downwards. Additionally, your mana pools will transform your natural energies into these forces for your use. Of course, I'll adjust your base stats so you two can have fun without fearing shadows in the night," Artemel explained with a mischievous grin. The words hung in the air, and Satoru felt a surge of anticipation. Artemel's promise of unimaginable power and adventure shook him to his core. The allure of such abilities, the idea of becoming supreme beings in a fantastical realm, was too tantalizing to dismiss.

Akari and Satoru exchanged a glance, "Does it mean we can use abilities we had in Yggdrasil?" Satoru asked. With Akari too worked up to approach the situation logically, it fell upon him to acquire as much information as he could. He was better negotiating with a script of prepared questions and counterpoints, not freestyle like this, but Akari clearly was still too worked up to think clearly.

"Yes, and then some. I'll also lock away some more broken feats I added, so you have some time to adjust. Now then, the main skill you both are going to love. It's called visage and it lets you pick any form you like. Go on! Try it." Artemel waved over Akari, releasing her from stasis.

"Any form?" Akari questioned cautiously.

"More or less. Try imagining how you want to look and go for it." She encouraged the pair with a playful nod.

Akari didn't need to be told twice. Her gelatinous form shot up, assuming a humanoid form, and within a blink of an eye, she had remade herself into her ideal form, alluring to possibly every man who saw her. Her face, now perfectly symmetrical, boasted large sea-blue eyes, almost like anime. Her lips were full and luscious. Her black hair cascaded down in a long, silky waterfall. Every imperfection had been smoothed away, leaving behind a vision of ethereal beauty almost too perfect to be real.

Since her avatar didn't wear any armor or clothing, her body was now on full display, from top to bottom. Instead of her original slender physique, she now had a curvy and athletic form, with a full hourglass figure enviable of most models. She also made her breasts a few sizes larger as well, enhancing her grand allure even further. Satoru watched the transformation in awe. The change was mesmerizing, a seamless blend of magic and imagination that invited him to take her then and there.

"How do I look?" Akari asked, twirling around for her husband's enjoyment, her voice now seemingly more joyful and lighter. "I hope you like it. See now? They're styled like an arrow pointing down," she added, with a teasing smile.

Satoru let out an incomprehensible sound, the dark red flames in his socketless eye holes flaring in astonishment as his mouth - now just a singular jaw bone with teeth - remained agape, hanging comically downward.

"I think you've crashed him," Artemel laughed.

"Just the reaction I wanted." Akari giggled, her laughter melodic echoing like chimes in the wind, a stark contrast from the former eerie echo she once had, let alone her original human voice back on Earth. "Though I need some clothes. I wouldn't want to show up in the new world literally butt-naked. I am a taken woman, after all," she added, her voice laden with a symphony of delight.

"We'll get there. You'll get your inventories full of all sorts of goodies. Hey, big guy, it's your turn," Artemel called.

"Huh?" Satoru blinked, snapping out of his reverie, the vividness of his wife's chosen visage too much, even for his now undead form. Seeing her enhanced beauty was like discovering colors existed after being color blind, if not better.

"Try your visage form; just a warning for you two, visage neither changes your fundamental properties nor gives you particular traits, but only alters your appearance." Artemel urged on.

"Sure…" Satoru remembered his human look and shrank down to his previous size, causing him to notice a sigh.

"Sato… can you go back to that height? I love you and you look great, but you can spoil me a bit as well and go beyond." Akari placed arms behind her back and leaned forward, her eyes wide with puppy-like innocence, only bolstered by her new eyes.

"Let me help you a bit." Artemel winked and snapped her fingers. Satoru instantly grew back to the impressive height of two meters, his form widening as well, but this was a mere shadow of the true changes simultaneously occurring. His human muscles bulged, becoming extremely pronounced, his face broadened, especially his jaw, which now appeared practically chiseled from granite, and his eyes gained a stormy gray color that seemed to hold ancient wisdom deep within. His skin was like polished marble, white enough to give even the richest of dermatologists a run for their money. This new form screamed strength and power. He stood there, towering and imposing, the embodiment of a warrior king. Ironic, since he had been a mage in Yggdrasil.

"He… he… abs… " Akari's eyes sparkled with a mixture of admiration and lust. Her supple tongue slipped out as she drooled at the sight of her husband's chiseled chest.

"Hehe, just like a teenage girl." Artemel laughed at Akari's reaction.

"You can grate cheese on those… Hey, don't laugh at me! You just pushed him from nine to fifteen out of ten!" Akari pointed her finger at the girl, her voice laced with a mix of awe and indignation.

"Fine, fine. Now, let's add the items, some trinkets, a bit of books, and… a few world items, aaand ~ done." Artemel rubbed her hands together, a satisfied grin spreading across her porcelain-like face. "So, here's the deal: I am dropping you in a another world called Azeroth, and you can do whatever you want - build empires, kill kings and queens, and have fun. But let's start low, ok? Maybe travel a bit first to learn about the world. Oh, and pick simpler gear. I put plenty of options in your inventories for you to choose from. Sato, I also put the guild staff in your inventory, and now one last thing, I picked new names for you." Artemel spoke fast without pausing for breath, if at all she needed to.

"Names?" Satoru questioned, his curiosity piqued once more.

"Yeah, sooo~, you will be Ainz Ooal Gown and Akari is now Buku Ooal Gown."

"Um, not that I don't like the idea, but why?" Akari inquired while tilting her in confusion, the strands of her hair swaying gently in the light breeze.

"Those sound cooler than Suzuki Satoru and Suzuki Akari," She chimed with mischief, her giggles tinkling like wind chimes.

"Fair enough. I like the ring of it. Buku and Ainz, we can be monsters just like in the old times, this time for real." Akari smirked as she pulled out a set of underwear and a simple leather set with plates covering the vitals. The ease with which she accessed her inventory was almost second nature, it felt as natural as breathing, even easier than it had been in-game. She also picked a buckler shield and a steel longsword, simple in appearance but Ainz knew otherwise based on his memorized stats. The leather armor hugged her form perfectly, highlighting her perfect athletic build. The plates gleamed dully, ready to deflect any blows her way. The steel longsword felt perfectly balanced in her hands, as if she had been wielding it for decades.

"We have those forms now, so it fits. From now on, I will be known as Ainz Ooal Gown," Ainz agreed. He too was changing his clothing to a simpler purple robe with a hood and wielding a wooden staff for a weapon.

"And I will be your beloved wife, Buku Ooal Gown." She giggled, her excitement palpable.

"Then we are almost done. Here is the map of the region. Good luck and have fun. I expect to be entertained, so I may drop by one day to say hi!" Artemel replied, pushing a scroll into Ainz's hands. Ainz examined the scroll, feeling its weight and texture, the parchment surprisingly smooth under his fingers.

"Thank you," he sighed, his deep voice resonating with a newfound sense of purpose.

"Wait. What about Itsuki?" Buku questioned. She and Ainz would be completely gone from her brother's life without any warning after all, along with all of their former deadlines and responsibilities.

"Tell you what, I'll show him your adventures in his dreams. He'll get the short version of your transformation tonight and I'll make sure he inherits your money." Artemel nodded, her voice reassuring.

"But he'll still be on Earth…" Buku looked up at Ainz in a silent plea and received an immediate nod of agreement from Buku, both able to communicate without words in this matter. "What do we have to do to be transported with us? And perhaps his girlfriend too if he doesn't want to come on his own."

"Bring him as well…" Artemel tapped her nose with her index finger. "Nope, not at the moment. Will kill the vibe you know."

"Is there nothing we can do to bring him with us?" Ainz inquired, seeing how deflated Buku became after the rejection.

"Hmm, that's actually… Yes, that will do! I'll leave clues for you both to learn interdimensional summoning magic. If you find all the pieces, you'll be able to summon him as Pero."

"It's better than nothing," Buku sighed. "Please tell Itsuki I love him and we will find a way to bring him over."

"Don't worry I will and who knows, it might happen sooner than you think. Now go and have fun." Artemel waved her hand and everything went dark.

Editing by NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, Ainz-sama, miraculous-trash, fvvck, and aidan_lo.

Link my discord server (https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2 )

Chapter 5: Volume 1 - Chapter 05

Chapter 5

After their vision cleared, the scenery remained pretty much the same compared to their dreams of the entity. They stood amidst lush woods, under a crystal-clear sky with a cacophony of natural sounds enveloping them like a soothing artificial ASMR sleeping audio. Ainz took a deep breath, the earthly scent filling his lungs, and turned his attention to his wife beside him, who too was doing the same.

They were standing on a dusty, winding road with no visible signs or any other recognizable landmarks, adding to the sense of otherworldly mystery. Such a road would have been near impossible to find on Earth, only reinforcing the fact that they were no longer there.

Buku grabbed his hand, gently squeezing it, her fingers interlacing with his as she smiled somberly, "We made it," she said, her voice carrying a blend of relief and melancholy. "This is our chance. If only Itsuki could be here with us. I want to believe that Artemel wasn't lying…" Buku trailed off.

"We'll need to confirm every piece of information she provided," Ainz stated firmly, his eyes scanning the rustling of leaves in their surroundings. "I don't trust that we're automatically very powerful in this world. For all we know, we may be very weak, and this world is packed with individuals similar to her." Ainz returned the affectionate gesture without worrying about hurting her. Despite his massive size, Buku's physical stats would be higher than his if their avatars had been recreated faithfully, and her skills would cover anything else.

Back in Yggdrasil, she supported the guild as a tank on the front lines. While her character's overall stats were relatively low compared to pure damage classes, her use of first-class defensive items compensated for that sort of weakness, alongside her strength and accurate judgment, born from long experience in the game. Ainz on the other hand, focused on classes and skills specifically involving magic such as death magic. This meant he didn't emphasize his physical build but rather his arcane strength, particularly from range, although he couldn't hold his ground through sheer stats and buffs as a top-tier player melee-wise. Despite this, Ainz's chances of victory in PvP combat were quite high because he was adept at gathering information and gaining tactical experience against his opponents, especially if he had time to prepare. In the game, he oftentimes successfully goaded his opponents while analyzing their strategies and weaknesses, playing them like a fiddle. He would then forfeit the first round of the match, and use this knowledge to secure victory in subsequent rounds. In this manner, he won PvP battles with surprising regularity, regularly crushing those who challenged him.

"Sure, but darling please don't go all tinfoil hat on me." Buku glanced up with a raised brow, knowing her husband's thought process all too well. He would rabbit hole over the smallest of details, pouring over even the slightest possible changes to her schedules and creating plans for backup plans for backup plans in case things went wrong.

Ainz sighed, a mix of exasperation and concern coloring his features. "We need to exercise caution. I don't want anything bad to happen to you. We are in an unknown, potentially hostile world, and we don't know what sort of creatures live here. Other people remade as their game avatars might exist, possibly power buffed further." Ainz added with resignation, realizing they ought to have asked Artemel more questions. If she had created them with their current level of strength, she surely could've done more for others.

It was too late for that and they needed to work with the information at hand. All he knew was that they were their game avatars and in the regular world, they would likely be considered rather powerful, so there was a need for double caution. If they were weak, then showing this fact would invite exploitation, with things going as badly such as slavery, but if the opposite was true and their abilities were considered extraordinary, they might agitate the local powers and paint targets on their backs by merely existing. 'I know I'm paranoid but I need to protect her. Buku often is too reckless.'

"Aha, and if I look away for a moment you'll be building an underground bunker in the forest." Buku teased, pressing her body against his in a playful manner." I know my man wants to keep me safe, but there are limits."

"I won't," Ainz retorted, knowing that argument was already lost. If Buku wanted she could play him like a fiddle and although she rarely exercised this devastating power, she wasn't above it if she thought the situation called for her to get her way. Many times even his logical mind had failed against her schemes, and as others said, happy wife, happy life.

Buku gave him an amused look, her eyes filled with affection. She motioned for him to lean down, and once he did, planted a quick peck on his lips. "I will follow your lead on this. Just don't go overboard with paranoia." She assured her husband, giggling.

"I'll try," Ainz promised, a small smile breaking through his serious demeanor. He glanced around the forest, the shadows gradually shortening as the sun rose above the tree line in the sky, dawn having slipped past them like an eel. "First, we should figure out where we are and reach the nearest civilization, hopefully humans, since we're currently pretending to be ones."

"We were… we aren't human anymore. How strange." Buku turned her gaze downward, looking at her extended arms and twisting them at the knuckles as if testing her body.

"I know, when I was in my new natural form, all my emotions felt muffled." Ainz agreed, his voice filled with an eerie calm.

"What do you mean?" Buku asked, growing slightly concerned. Ainz wasn't the most expressive person even before being turned into an undead. Taken further, he could even be described as illogically logical if you stretched it.

'You know those mediation videos we tried once or twice?" He inquired.

"Yea…"

"I always feel like I'm in that state. Like I'm supposed to be very calm. It's not like I love you any less, but for everything else … I feel a profound calmness." He gently brushed his wife's cheek to assure her.

"Tests will be needed. I need to know how excited I can make you." Her hands started to wander over the thick cloth robe he wore, reaching for his nether region.

"Ahm, the effect appears to still be the same, but we should get the sense of where we are first," he reminded Buku.

"Right. I think Artemel gave us a map, perhaps there's a landmark nearby to help us determine where we are in this world, Azeroth she called it." Buku pointed at the scroll he held in his left hand.

"Right." Ainz spread out the scroll and brought it before their eyes, letting Buku hold onto one edge. The parchment was old, its edges frayed and the ink slightly faded from use. Despite this, the details were clear, and three distinct continents were depicted. Two vertical landmasses were separated by a vast ocean and a smaller one sat atop the map situated between the two main continents. To the east lay the lands unimaginatively called the Eastern Kingdoms. Its coastline was jagged, with forests and mountains drawn in intricate detail despite the wear. To the west was Kalimdor, a sprawling land filled with deserts and forests; to the north was Northrend, its mountains detailed snow-covered peaks and icy terrain marked by various glaciers.

"It is a safe guess we're in the Eastern Kingdoms since the other two have large patches that are considered unexplored," Ainz commented, tracing the lines of settlements and cities with his pointer finger.

Buku nodded, her eyes scanning the detailed figures scattered across the map. "Perhaps we are near this area." She leaned in close and pointed. "The Kingdom of Stormwind. From the looks of its cities, it's a human kingdom, and it seems mostly covered in forest. I think, at least for now we should head there, in good faith towards Artemel and assume she isn't trying to screw us over. I was growing to like the girl, maybe she likes us too," Buku voiced bemusingly.

"This map is too general to be useful at the moment. There are only seven cities and towns mentioned in the whole kingdom, but if the scale is correct, there should be a lot more settlements for a kingdom of this size," Ainz noted, his finger tracing the rough outlines of Stormwind to the rough outlines of the forests, the vast expanses thoroughly unsettlingly sparse, like uncharted territories waiting to be explored, all the civilization found and documented on the parchment. The map, though meticulously drawn, felt like a puzzle with missing pieces, pieces that were already in the box, they just needed to find and analyze them. "I feel that I have some food in my inventory, so we don't need to worry about hunger, if I can even feel hungry that is. Artmel did say this visage form wouldn't change our true natures," Ainz added.

"I do feel peckish, however, we better leave our food reserves as is for now. I probably can go a long time without eating, and I can eat a lot more now than before. How about we pick a direction and start walking? We should stumble upon locals sooner or later. We need to gather more information at least," Buku suggested.

"Good idea." Ainz agreed. He carefully folded the map back into a square and held it out before him. With a slight gesture, a void opened, its edges shimmering with a dark, ethereal glow akin to the game's graphics. He placed the map into the void and let it go, which closed seamlessly, leaving no trace behind. 'It wasn't probably a good idea to do this in front of others till they confirmed the magic and laws of this world,' he thought to himself.

They started moving westward, the road stretching ahead of them through the dense forest, twisting and turning here and there. The scenery changed little for half an hour, save for occasional side roads leading into the woods until the towering trees and undergrowth created a green tunnel around them, glittering with more green than they had ever seen combined in their past lives. The air was filled with the scent of pine wood and damp earth and the occasional rustle of small creatures moving in the foliage, pleasant to the nose and ears. The silence between them was comfortable as they were very much attuned to each other's presence, moving in peace. Ainz's mind was filled with strategies and possibilities of what was to come, while Buku kept a keen eye on their surroundings, her senses alert for any sign of movement or danger. Eventually, the road began to widen as the trees gradually thinned out and the underbrush shrank as they reached a crossroads. They spotted a four-way road sign with symbols recognizable to neither of them.

"This must be a landmark," Ainz mused, stepping closer to examine the carvings. "Hmm, this may prove to be a problem. I can't read this," he added, sighing.

"Neither can I. Any bright ideas, darling?" Buku's eyes sparkled with curiosity as she walked up to the sign and inspected it, circling around. It was made out of wood in a rather crude style, the wooden surface bearing the marks of a hasty craftsman and was weathered with age.

"I have just the thing! Translation glasses. They should do for now." Ainz remembered the rather useful object, opened his inventory, and a dark void stretched just an arm wide before him. Reaching into the abyss, he fished out a pair of ornate spectacles, having instinctively felt the item appearing in his grasp. The glasses appeared delicate and intricate like the thin wire frames of old, with lenses that shimmered like liquid crystals under the rays of the sun. He perched them on his nose with a dramatic flourish.

"That way leads to Stormwind," he declared, pointing northwest, his finger tracing the path of other names etched into the wood sign while he continued, "Goldshire, Northshire, and Eastwalle."

"Stormwind was on the map," Buku commented, becoming aware that a small group was gradually approaching them. With a heightened sense of caution, she tensed up and immediately took a battle stance, motioning for him to do the same. "We've got company," she noted three humans heading in their direction while chatting among themselves without a care in the world. Ainz quickly sneaked away the translation glasses inside his robes as he followed Buku's gaze.

All three were young, barely out of their teens and into their adulthoods. The first, a young man, was clad in an outfit strikingly similar to Buku's, a sturdy shield across his back and a sword strapped to his belt. He had short brown hair and slight sideburns framed a face etched with casual ease. His demeanor was the most relaxed and confident out of the three.

Next to him stood a softer-looking man cloaked in a flowing white robe and clutching a wooden staff elegantly carved with intricate designs that spiraled up its length, worn with use. His long blonde hair was tied in a neat tail with delicate, silver-threaded ribbon. His expression was tranquil and his entire body seemed to glow softly, as if he radiated a gentle, ethereal light.

The last one was a girl riding a large boar, armed with a finely crafted bow slung over her back, its polished wood gleaming even from a distance, and the string taut, ready for swift action. She had a brown bob cut framing her narrow eyes that watched the treeline with predatory determination. She was clad in a full leather set that hugged her slender form, accentuating her agility. She wore large boots covered in fur that hinted at her rugged, wilderness prowess.

"Humans. They don't seem hostile. Let's talk to them." Buku perked up, her eyes sparkling with relief as she eased her stance.

Ainz silently nodded, and together with his wife, they approached the trio, who only now took note of them and stopped in their tracks. She was a good judge of character and if she deemed them worth approaching he didn't see a reason to protest. But he did keep his hands close to his weapons, just in case.

"Hello, my husband and I are a bit lost!" Buku greeted the trio with a warm, disarming smile and a friendly wave. "Would you mind helping us?"

"Not from around here, are you? Sure, we'd be happy to help. Which town are you trying to reach, folks?" The man in the heavy armor replied with a question, his voice friendly but cautious.

Buku paused, realizing they needed a cover story to explain their unfamiliarity with the area. Drawing on her skill of 'making stuff up on the spot,' she began to spin a tale, her mind racing to weave a believable narrative.

"We need to reach the nearest town to stock up on supplies and look for job options. We come from a small island nation and our ship crashed in… aaa… you know, those plains to the west. With no way home, we're now trying to find work and settle here."

"You poor souls. May the light guide you home," the man in the white robe murmured, his voice filled with genuine compassion as he bowed his head slightly, his blonde hair shimmering in the light.

"They look like adventurers, Right Mr. Oink?" The girl on the boar patted her mount affectionately. The boar, a massive creature with coarse, bristly fur and seemingly intelligent eyes, responded with an enthusiastic oink.

"That pig doesn't understand you, Annie," the man in the heavy armor groaned, rolling his eyes. He adjusted the shield on his back and glanced at the duo. "Anyway, if you're an adventurer or hired muscle, there's always plenty of work in Stormwind. If you want to start with easier jobs, you can head to Northshire Abbey. We are heading there, Goldshire offers more options, but you might end up facing Kobolds or bandits."

Annie gave the boar one last pat and then turned her narrow, predatory eyes towards Buku and Ainz, "Stormwind is always bustling with opportunities," she declared. "Mr. Oink is smart. He picked me." the girl retorted, glaring at her comrade. She dismounted the pig with a huff and stomped the ground angrily, her bow rattling. The boar snorted and pawed the ground as well, ready to move at a moment's notice.

"Oh, I think we could start in the Northshire." Buku pondered aloud, her mind racing with possibilities. "I'm not sure how dangerous local wildlife is. It was quite tough at our home."

"You said you three are heading there as well?" Ainz asked, his tone playing as polite but inquisitive.

"Yes. Oh, I am Robyn Tropp, a warrior," the heavily armored man introduced himself with a slight bow, then gestured to his two companions. "This angsty one is Annie Wither, a hunter with a knack for taming any animal she comes across," he proclaimed, pointing at the girl, "And this cheerful fellow is Leoroy Wheatley. He claims he's a priest, but no one has ever seen him in church."

"I prefer to travel and help people instead of sitting in Stormwind Cathedral copying tomes and praying. Many people are hurt or ill or need protection from wildlife, monsters, and bandits, away from church grounds. Our home is not as safe as it used to be," Leoroy explained, ignoring his friend's jab. Ainz could see how his eyes gleamed with a sense of duty and compassion, reminding him of one of his close friends from Yggdrasil.

"That is a very noble goal. I had a friend who always said, 'Helping people in trouble is the right thing to do,'" Ainz commented, his voice tinged with admiration and nostalgia as he recalled his guildmates.

"Sounds like a righteous man. Was he on the ship with you?" Leoroy enquired, his expression softening with concern, worried that their new friends might have lost a lot of friends and loved ones in the shipwreck.

Buku's eyes momentarily clouded with sadness before she regained her composure, "No, he wasn't with us…" she replied, her voice trailing off to a murmur.

"We parted ways a long time ago. He had his own battles to fight," Ainz added with a bitter smile. The old memories of how all the guild members had abandoned him had resurfaced, they weren't as painful now that he had Buku in his life, but the old scars had never fully healed. Memories tainted with endings, nostalgia cracked with time.

"I am Buku Ooal Gown, and this is my husband Ainz Ooal Gown. I am a warrior as well, and he is a caster. Perhaps we can tag along and ask some questions about these lands along the way? The island we lived on was rather isolated from the world." Buku offered, extending their introductions as Ainz reached within his robe from the neckline and covertly retrieved the map he had stashed in the inventory.

"Sure, the more the merrier, but you'll have to ask such questions to Leoroy. He's the learned one among us. Annie and I only know about our villages and where the capital is." Robyn agreed, his armor clinking softly as he nodded.

"I will help how I can, though admittedly my knowledge of the world is limited. I am but a young servant of light who has only studied for a few years," Leoroy replied, stepping beside Ainz and noticing the large man holding the map of the world.

"Any information will help," Ainz replied, his voice steady and appreciative as he unfurled the paper.

"Very well. We are roughly here," Leoroy stated, pointing to a spot south of Stormwind. "The Kingdom of Stormwind is where we are at the moment. As you can see by the coloring, our kingdom has four major provinces. Elwynn Forest is this large central area; to the west is Westfall. It's mostly farmlands, but from what I have heard it's not safe there anymore. The area crawls with Defias thugs - lowlives that prey on honest people."

"Is it some sort of crime syndicate?" Ainz inquired, his eyes focused.

"Yes. They have spread throughout the kingdom and caused a lot of suffering. This area to the south was once called Brightwood, but after a terrible curse fell upon it, shrouding the province in perpetual darkness, it was renamed Duskwood. Strange monsters lurk there," Leoroy explained, his finger tracing the shadowed region on the map.

"They do make a great moonshine," Robyn commented with a chuckle.

"Great? That stuff will kill you! Those people in Duskwood are crazy," Annie protested, shaking her head vehemently. She was walking beside her pet pig, which periodically wandered into the trees and returned with a mouthful of who knew what, chewing contentedly, occasionally petting it.

"Those people fight the darkness; a strong drink helps keep the spirits up," Leoroy added, his robes swaying gently as he lightly tapped the ground with his staff. "Elwynn Forest is the safest area in the kingdom, but there are more opportunities to earn coins in the borderlands, more opportunities to strike it rich."

"What about other nations?" Ainz continued eagerly, hoping to learn more about this world. It did surprise him how freely these people were willing to share information, given how YGGDRASIL worked by essentially throwing its players into the deep end with only basic controls, but as one used to say until Earth's 21st century, 'Don't look a gift horse mouth in the mouth.' He and Buku had given no promises to help these people with anything - it was better this way. Once they reached a town, they could decide their next steps on their own. And if these humans wanted to give more information of their own free will for nothing in return, the more the better.

However, this encounter sparked memories of his guild's adventures; telling jokes, planning ambushes, and the thrill of plundering tombs and other structures. Those days seemed distant now, but perhaps they could be repeated in this world before he and Buku settled somewhere. If there was a chance to bring Itsuki over through encounters like these, it would become their main, unspoken quest.

"I only know about the Kingdoms of Khaz Modan and Gnomeregan to the north of Stormwind. They're a dwarven kingdom and a gnomish kingdom respectively, and they've been allies with humans for a long time. There once was an elven kingdom here on the tip of the continent, but I'm not sure how many remain after the scourge invasion," Leoroy explained.

"I see, what is this scourge that you speak of?" Ainz inquired, his mind already cataloging each new term for future reference.

"Undead.. They swallowed the human kingdoms southwest of elven lands and now nothing lives there save for those monsters. Abominations!" Leoroy spat in disgust, his expression darkening as his hand tightened around his staff.

"I see," Ainz nodded thoughtfully. It was a start. For now, they needed to be vigilant and avoid revealing their true selves while living among humans and dwarves. If the priest harbored such a hostile disposition towards the undead, revealing his true self would sever all possibilities of communication and likely pin a target on his back.

"What about other races?" Buku interjected.

"There is the Horde, but most of them live in Kalimdor now - orcs, trolls, and I've heard they have cow-like creatures called Tauren that live with them. They are seen as enemies of humanity. The Horde are enemies of the Alliance and a lot of soldiers are sent to fight them even if there isn't a war going on right now, given how dangerous they are and have been." Leoroy explained, his voice carrying a weight of historical enmity.

The more Leoroy spoke, the more questions Ainz had; the Alliance, as it turned out, referred to humans, dwarves, and elves, which were the civilized nations. In contrast, the Horde comprised more savage, monstrous races united under a Warchief, in direct contrast and conflict with the former. Their original species would probably fall under the latter though.

The forest around them seemed to listen to their conversation, the ancient trees casting long shadows as sunlight filtered through the canopy. Buku and Ainz exchanged glances, their thoughts aligning on the importance of learning the local languages and gaining access to the nearest libraries as quickly as possible. The top priority had now changed to figuring out how to navigate the complicated world, where so many diverse races co-existed with deep-rooted animosities. They had nary a bit of knowledge of this world's common sense, which had to be amended, fast.

Editing by NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by Ainz-sama, NabeisWaifu, IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, miraculous-trash, fvvck, and aidan_lo.

Link my discord server (https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2)

Chapter 6: Volume 1 - Chapter 06

Chapter 6

Northshire Valley was a tranquil place, easily the most tranquil town they had ever been in. Farmhouses peaked through the dense tapestry of the woods, harmonizing with the lush greenery and fertile soils. The locals, looking up from the fields with friendly smiles, painted a picture of a close-knit, peaceful, and prosperous society, something impossible back on Earth.

Upon their arrival at the abbey, Ainz and Buku parted ways with the adventure team, waving them off. The team headed straight for the entrance of a magnificent stone building, with its vibrant red roof and intricately stained glass windows, which stood as a beacon of tranquility amidst the organized chaos of the populace.

Ainz scanned the small town, encircling the abbey with a critical eye. The town's few inns exuded a fine rustic charm, while the small bazaar buzzed with the lively hum of prosperous trade. The marshal's outpost, sturdy and imposing, hinted at the town's vigilance towards foreign threats. A few groups of adventurers and lone mercenaries mingled around with the locals, most of whom were either bustling merchants at the bazaar or serene clerics dedicated to the abbey's upkeep.

"So, what are we doing first? I'm dying to find out how food tastes in this world." Buku sniffed the air, eyeing a stall selling skewers of mouth-watering meat sizzling enticingly over an open flame. The tantalizing aroma of roasting meat wafted through the open air, a scent, unlike anything they had ever experienced in their world, where food was either bland or had crappy artificial flavors due to the scarcity of natural ingredients, let alone wonderful scents.

"We should get local currency first. Using Yggdrasil coins isn't wise; someone might recognize them and identify us as players," Ainz cautioned.

"As if the name 'Ainz Ooal Gown' wouldn't give it away," Buku retorted, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms while still side-eyeing the food stalls. The guild had been particularly infamous during its heyday thanks to its mighty prowess and staggering collections, with him in particular in the spotlight thanks to his leadership position.

"It's a good point," Ainz conceded, "We should still keep a low profile for now." His resolve remained firm, meeting his wife's intense gaze without flinching. Caution was necessary when faced with the unknown.

"I'm not suggesting we start dropping piles of gold left and right," Buku grumbled, "But I have a few million coins in my inventory. Let's at least see how much one coin is worth here, if people get too nosy, we'll tell them we found it and want to exchange."

"We can do that," Ainz sighed, recognizing the practicality of Buku's suggestion. He knew his wife well. While she could stick to the plan if he put his foot down, it was clear to see that Buku wanted to sample local food badly, and truth be told, he wanted to do the same. He fished a single Yggdrasil coin out of the inventory and handed it to her, noting how he too had millions of coins to spend.

Buku's eyes lit up as she snatched the coin and instantly skipped over to the skewer stall, eager with glee. The scent of savory meat, with a hint of spices, made her mouth water in anticipation.

"Miss, what are you selling here?" Buku asked the young woman operating the stall.

The woman smiled warmly, "These are skewers of boars, marinated in a blend of buttermilk and mild spices."

Buku's face lit up in amazement, "Miss, would you accept such currency?" She asked as she held up the Yggdrasil coin, grinning.

"Missy, that is a gold coin!" the woman's eyes widened. "I can weigh it for value, but I won't have enough money to give you a difference even if you buy every single piece of meat I'm selling today on top of all the coinage I have on me." The woman shook her head apologetically, already wondering about the identity of her customer. Gold coins were rare to find in rural areas, though merchants, adventurers, or nobles carried them around when traveling, so seeing the woman trying to use one wasn't that strange.

"Oh… I didn't think of that. Could you please tell me where I could exchange this coin for smaller denominations then?" Buku inquired in response. The disappointment that she couldn't treat herself was immense, but there wasn't anything she could do about it for now. It would be beyond foolish to just give away the coin and attract unnecessary attention from the local populace. She was already pushing Ainz's overcautious stance and having a fight with her husband a few hours into their new lives wasn't something she wanted.

"Merchants in Goldshire could take it off your hands. You're here to help folks by killing the nasties that are making our life hard, right?" The woman inquired.

"Correct, my husband and I are planning to do mercenary work. Would the stall still be open in a few hours?" Buku gulped down her saliva as she stared at the food like it was an unattainable treasure, eyeing it with visible greed.

"Tell you what, I'll give you one stick right away and you come back and pay for it once you have the coin later. It wouldn't be kind of me to send adventurers to risk their lives on empty stomachs, and you strike me as an honest type." The woman handed over one skewer with eight gorgeous pieces of meat, juicy and dripping animal fat.

"Thank you. You're a saint, miss." Buku grabbed the skewer and skipped back to Ainz with a wide smile on her face. She tore off the first piece, chewing on it loudly, and offered the treat to Ainz. The meat was succulent and tender, induced with a medley of spices and buttermilk that practically danced on her tongue.

Ainz pulled off a piece and took a bite. The human form did give him the ability to eat even if he didn't need to do so, and for that he was grateful. The rich flavors took him by surprise, even after seeing his wife's reactions to the meat. It was juicy, soft, and had a pleasant afterburn to the throat. He and Buku did eat at organic food restaurants a few times after she had become famous, but lab-grown meat just couldn't close to the explosion of sensations this simple, authentic piece of treat offered.

"Holy… this is so good!" Buku gushed as she tore another piece of the stick, her eyes closing in pure delight.

"I wonder how fruits taste," Ainz mused, glancing over to other stalls. Once they had money, he planned to go along with Buku and indulge in food, sampling all the flavors this world could offer, or at the bare minimum this town.

"Sweets!" Buku gasped, her eyes lighting up with excitement upon noticing a stall filled with all manner of sweets and snacks. "We should go earn some money right away and treat ourselves a bit. Though I wonder how much the inn costs. Staying outside isn't something I want to try right away."

Ainz nodded in agreement as the couple made their way down the lively market with its cheerful vendors and vibrant stalls. Vendors called out to potential customers, peddling everything from fresh produce to finely crafted weapons, countered by the squabbles of negotiating citizens and travelers haggling the prices. Children darted through the small crowd, their laughter mingling with the cacophonous hum of the talking crowds. People who looked like adventurers milled about, some examining the wares on display, others in deep discussions, and others wolfing down or packing the items they had purchased on the spot.

The couple approached the market square, their eyes drawn to a large notice board situated at the center. It stood majestically compared to the rest, its wooden frame ornately carved with intricate designs depicting scenes of legendary quests of this culture. They paused before the notice board, their attention caught by the myriad of requests and announcements pinned to it. The parchment sheets fluttered slightly in the breeze, covered in a script that was foreign to them in its entirety.

Ainz glanced around to ensure no one was watching too closely, and with a swift, discreet motion, he reached inside his robes and fished out a pair of enchanted glasses. He quickly slipped them on and leaned in, making the letters shift and reshape to his eyes, becoming legible and easily understandable.

There was a list of requests available, ranging from delivering some packages to purchasing specific types of meat and killing beasts harassing the livestock. Additionally, the marshal had put a bounty on kobolds and Defias bandits, paying one silver for a kobold bounty and five silver for a human criminal if proof was provided. In the case of kobolds, the candles they carried on their heads served as proof, while for bandits, it was red bandanas they wore as identification of belonging to the infamous crime cartel. The rest of the corpse was at the discretion of whoever undertook the requests.

"It's strange. It seems kobolds carry candles on their heads," Ainz commented as he scratched his chin.

"Why would kobolds carry candles on their heads?" Buku inquired, her brows furrowed in confusion.

In Yggdrasil, they had been small dog-like creatures known for dirty and downright sadistic tricks, which came off as disproportionately cruel since they were low-level creatures and it was the newbie players encountering them. They likely were a different type of creature in this world, so extra information was needed.

"No idea," Ainz replied, shaking his head slightly.

"You must be new around these parts." A loud authoritative voice interrupted. Turning they saw a bald man in a full plate set with a bushy mustache approaching them. His armor gleamed under the sunlight and his eyes held a look of curiosity.

"Yes. We are," Ainz responded, inclining his head respectfully. "We are here looking to take on some work and earn money by helping locals solve their problems," Ainz added, pointing at the board.

The man nodded as he extended his arm in a greeting, "Marshal McBride at your service. I keep the order in the Northshire valley. You two have the aura of experienced adventurers around you. How come you don't know a thing about kobolds? Those rats are everywhere."

"Ainz Ooal Gown and this is my wife Buku. We are seasoned adventurers, but there were no such creatures in our homeland, and thus we are unsure of the local wildlife." Ainz returned the greeting and accepted the handshake. Getting on the good side of the local authority was a must if they wanted to keep out of trouble or avoid revealing too much about themselves.

"I see. Kobolds are bipedal rats, about a meter tall and they carry large candles to see in the dark caves and mines they infest. I advise taking the candles only after you have killed the pests, for the little of them that communicate often make it a battle cry to defend themselves. Do be careful - they are dangerous in large groups," McBride explained.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Marshal. We look forward to working with you." Buku joined in. "Could you point us in the direction where these rats can be found?" As she spoke, McBride found himself momentarily struck by her beauty. Her features were striking, her aura exuding a confidence and grace he had never seen before. The words had rolled off her tongue carrying a charm that made even a hardened marshal like him pause in admiration.

He cleared his throat, regaining his composure as he continued, "The mine to the north past the old mill. For now, just deal with the ones wandering near the entrance. Once it's clear, I'll send men to establish a post to provide on-location support for clearing the mine in its entirety. Be sure to gather the candles as proof of the deed, even if they're damaged. Good huntin'." Marshal saluted and turned his attention to the next group mingling around.

"It seems that the local police force is doing their job," Buku commented, as they turned to leave the room.

"It all comes down to how the people in the top brackets are. Touch Me also wanted to do the right thing but never could," Ainz replied.

This world still had hope, the people and those in power weren't as cynical and self-serving as the ones left on Earth. But then again, it wasn't easy to be an upstanding person in hell. Ainz carefully observed the people as they left the village and headed north, gathering references from various civilians nearby who were more than happy to point the way. For all the troubles going on, they seemed to be optimistic and compassionate.

"I wonder if I can feel pain," Buku muttered after they had walked for a few minutes in silence.

"I guess we will find out soon. I wonder about that too. I haven't felt any signs of tiredness or soreness from walking as much as we have so far." Ainz remarked thoughtfully. He poked his right palm with his nail, testing his senses. "I can, at least in visage form," he reported his findings.

Buku, intrigued, removed her gauntlet and did the same. At first, she cautiously poked her palm, and when it didn't hurt, she began to push her nail into her palm with a moderate amount of force before commenting, "I can barely feel it. As a human, this would've hurt or even broken my nail, but now it doesn't even leave a single mark. I guess my high physical resistance is responsible," she observed with a hint of wonder and relief in her voice. Back in their world, she knew pain all too well, and this form shielded her from the agonies of her past.

"Don't leap in harm's way needlessly," Ainz cautioned gently.

"I won't, darling," Buku replied, flashing him a reassuring smile.

They continued to traverse along the trail towards the local mine where their targets awaited. It was a rugged hour of hiking before they arrived at the mountainside, dotted with several makeshift camps spread around the entrance of a mine. The air echoed with raucous sounds of kobolds, shrieking and screeching. The small ugly creatures were making a cacophony of noise fighting over scavenged food and the discarded tools and items left behind by the displaced workers, squabbling over the best things left behind. The camps were decently spread out in a manner that would allow the two to clear them out before kobolds from other camps nearby came to help, at least by Ainz's internal judgments.

Ainz focused his attention on a camp to their right, noticing the trio of adventurers they had traveled together with earlier in the day nearby. He gently touched Buku's shoulder and silently pointed at them.

"Oh, they'll provide a useful demonstration, I wonder," Buku mused. "Ainz, do you think the message function still works?"

Ainz hadn't considered the possibility that such a convenient game function would translate to the real world. Yet it seemed too promising not to try. Worse came to worse, it didn't work. Instinctively, he tapped into the knowledge of how to use it. What's more, he understood the arcane mechanics behind this magical ability.

{ Can you hear me? } He attempted to send a message directly into his wife's mind.

{ Whoa, it works! This is awesome. We can communicate without giving away vital information or risking our cover. } Buku replied with excitement using the message function.

{ I agree. Let's observe how they fight these rats and adjust our strategy. }

Annie was the one to open the charge, sending her pet pig on a rampage through the camp. The massive animal tossed the kobolds around like ragdolls and trampled them under its feet, causing chaos and drawing attention. Meanwhile, the girl picked off kobold after kobold with precise strikes from her bow, racking the kill count at a rapid pace.

Robyn stood firm as a stalwart guard, using his strength to kick and shield-slam the approaching kobolds rushing them. Beside him, Leoroy cast protective spells, creating a barrier of shimmering energy to ward off any projectile attacks of stones and wooden items.

{ They're effective. Let's try the camp next to theirs and see how we fare. I doubt the rats can even harm me. } Buku communicated, her stance defensive with the shield and sword at the ready.

Ainz didn't reject the suggestion. As a caster, he would focus on dealing the damage in the back line while Buku guarded him as the vanguard. It would be foolish to start with high-tier spells given the low ability of their opponents, so he settled on the fourth-tier spell [Chain Lightning]. It was one of the weakest ones he had and if it didn't work he would go for the seventh tier [Chain Dragon Lighting] to finish them off. Should the superior spell prove to be ineffective as well, he would resort to using the formidable ninth and tenth-tier spells, but those were only to be used after repeated trials.

He extended his hand, silently casting the spell before him. Lightning crackled and surged from his fingertips, striking a group of kobolds that were butchering a fawn without any regard for their surroundings, caught unaware. Unlike in Yggdrasil, where there was base damage and layering additional casts to maximize spell power, here he just needed to feel how much mana he wanted to use for each spell, and his undead baseline allowed him to do that perfectly.

So as not to overdo it on the first try, he chose a relatively low amount of power and sent the deadly projectile towards his main target- a kobold in oversized chain mail.

The creature couldn't even let out a cry of death, its body blackened and smoked as it fell to the ground. The lightning danced from target to target, leaving smoking corpses behind in its wake. In total nine kobolds had died from the singular spell, about a third of the total present in the camp.

The survivors let out furious war cries and charged toward Buku in a disorganized frenzy, wielding whatever they had. The largest among them led the chaotic charge, but Buku stood firm. She raised her shield, ready to perform a similar move with the shield as her peer from one camp over. Meanwhile, Ainz cast the chain lightning again, further thinning the number of approaching creatures even more before they reached Buku.

The moment the kobold was within striking distance, Buku swung her shield forward with formidable strength. The shield connected with the kobold's face with a satisfying crunch. What remained of the creature was sent flying through the air like a bullet.

The corpse, held together by the chainmail, collided with a nearby tree with a loud thud. Wood splintered and cracked, sending fragments in all directions before it slumped to the ground.

The small creatures, witnessing the display of overwhelming power, let out panicked loud screeches and fled, making them easy pickings for Ainz and his lightning spell.

"Whoa!" Buku exclaimed, surprised by the strength she exerted. "I need to tone it down," her mind was reeling from the sensation of wielding such immense strength.

"At least now we know we have the confirmation that we are quite strong here. It required effectively no effort to deal with these creatures. I think we can collect the candles and clear a few more camps before heading back," Ainz suggested, depowering his next spell.

"Sounds like a plan. This is surprisingly easy." Buku nodded in agreement. However, her uplifting mood was soured when she turned her head and noticed the trio staring at her and Ainz, their mouths agape and faces pale as snow. They had cleared their camp and seemed to have had the same idea to observe, only occasionally glancing around for possible survivors.

{ I think we should go over to the kids and… you know, make sure they don't sound an alarm. } Buku sent a message.

{ This is problematic. At least you didn't go all out. } Ainz replied.

{ Oh, not even close. I barely strained my muscles. } Buku responded.

The trio continued to stare at them, their expressions a mix of awe and astonishment, as Annie's pig nervously hid behind his owner.

"Everything all right?" Buku asked.

"What was that!?" Robyn shouted, his voice laden with a mix of awe and terror.

"Well, we might be a bit stronger than your average adventurer, but for now, we'd prefer to keep a low profile. You know that unsavory people who would want to exploit us for their agendas could be around," Buku spoke in a calm tone, raising her voice a pitch slightly louder to disarm the young adventurers. If she could calm irritable bosses hellbent on nitpicking faults, she surely could handle this group.

"That is understandable. But how are you so strong? And that lightning spell, mister Ainz, you are no doubt a powerful mage to wield magic with such ease." Leoroy ventured cautiously, the most composed out of three but still shaken.

"We've trained very hard and received some blessings that helped us grow," Buku replied diplomatically. "We just want to find our place in this world and not cause too much trouble."

"Miss Buku, Mr. Ainz, I implore you to consider using your talents to protect those in need. With such power, you could be heroes and deal with monsters like dragons," Leoroy pleaded earnestly.

"We'll be around to lend a helping hand when needed. Can we trust you won't go around telling everyone about us?" Buku inquired, her tone firm yet accommodating.

"We will keep your secret. Just one condition." Robyn interjected, suddenly adopting a business-like tone.

"And what would that condition be?" Ainz asked, feeling a tinge of apprehension. There was a chance they would have to kill these three to keep their secret from coming out, but the idea was unsettling. The thing that horrified him wasn't the act itself, but the sheer indifference he felt at the thought. He worried for his wife too, she, same as him, had never taken a life.

"You leave us a camp or two to clear. We need a payday too," Robyn replied as he broke into a cheeky grin.

"You better hurry then," Buku retorted as she let out a taunting laugh in return, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

"Let's go. We'll take camps to the west," Robyn stated to his team as he quickly waved for them to follow.

As Robyn and his team headed westward to clear their designated camps, Buku's expression turned serious, a glint of suspicion lingering in her eyes even as she turned to address Ainz.

{ Do you think they will keep their word? } she asked through 'Message', her tone now edged with caution.

{ I'm not sure. But I don't think killing them should be our first option either. } Ainz replied, his tone reflective.

{ You know, we can paint them as unreliable weirdos if they decide to babble around. Luckily, there were no other witnesses. } Buku watched them disappear from view over the horizon.

"Let's go kill the rest of the kobolds for a nice payout," She declared aloud, moving on.

"First we need to collect the candles," Ainz reminded, pulling a simple woolen bag out of his inventory to carry them with. He didn't want to conjure a bunch of candles out of thin air later on.

This encounter had proven that, at least in this area, they were very strong compared to the average fighter, and according to the rather believable testimony by Leoroy, they were strong enough to defeat dragons that no doubt were high on the pecking order even in this world. A huge relief for Ainz at least, but there could always be hidden trump cards.

Editing by NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, Malguis, Ainz-sama, miraculous-trash, fvvck, and aidan_lo.

Link my discord server ( https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2 )

Chapter 7: Volume 1 - Chapter 07

Chapter 7

Marshal McBride slowly stroked his mustache, lost in thought. When he first met the pair of adventurers, he hadn't expected them to be this effective. The bag brimming with candles demonstrably proved that at least a hundred kobolds had been killed, proving their immense capability. A massive boon for the town. Everyone knew that no living kobold would part with their candle, they would rather leave their children than abandon their sacred object. Together with the other groups out there, the kobold camps would be cleared out in no time.

"Good job," he finally stated, his voice gruff but approving. "Let's get your payment sorted." he picked up the bag and beckoned Ainz and Buku to follow him towards the marshal's outpost.

The outpost stood out as a fortress of stone and mortar, its walls thick, designed and built with practicality in mind. The exterior was weathered with age, a tapestry of moss and ivy creeping over the gray stones, whispering tales of countless seasons past in the crevices they inhabited and the scars they bore. The building didn't require many repairs after Stormwind was reclaimed from the orcs over two decades ago, as even the brutish creatures found the sturdy building useful, meaning it was mostly in its original form. Inside, the building was a blend of austerity and functionality, with few decorations. The entry hall was lit by bright torches mounted on the walls, their flames casting a warm, golden hue across the room. McBride's office, with a small living space, was modestly furnished with a sturdy wooden desk, cluttered with maps, scrolls, and a few personal mementos. A small hearth crackled in the corner, its fire casting dancing shadows on the walls lined with shelves of books and ledgers. Adjacent to the office were the barracks for the stationed soldiers, the vault for armaments, and the crown fund, heavily fortified with iron and reinforced wood.

"Appleton, do the count and report!" McBride barked an order at the young constable sitting on a box, polishing his crown-issued sword with a bored expression.

"Yes, sir!" The young man stood up and saluted, his previous lethargy evaporating in an instant.

"It won't take long. I would like to ask a few questions if you don't mind." Marshal informed the pair while he led them to his office.

"Not at all," Ainz, who was unintentionally towering and imposing them with his stature, answered in a deep and polite tone. It wasn't just his manly tone that turned the heads of local maidens but also his tall stature and wide shoulders. This man was built like a warrior yet had the skill of a mage, an intriguing combination that suggested he could do both.

If not for the man's stunningly beautiful and equally intimidating wife, he did not doubt that some of the bored daughters of farmers would throw themselves at Ainz. While she wasn't particularly tall for a human woman, she had an aura of authority and possessiveness around her unrivaled in the town. He had no doubt that she wouldn't hesitate to get into a fight with any woman who as much as looked towards Ainz with a lecherous gaze, her blades would surely see blood.

The whole situation had the marshal on edge. This couple of exceptionally skilled people had accomplished a bounty that would have required at least twenty others to do at such a speed, yet they didn't even know what a kobold was in the first place. By comparison, the second most competent group present in the valley had only brought back thirty candles and were now exhausted and ready to spend their hard-earned money in the tavern, burning their cash for booze. That group had three members, four if the hunter's pet was taken into consideration. Yet Ainz and Buku had shown up with a mountain of candles, not even breaking a sweat and treating the whole thing as a beginner's exercise, which suggested at a bare minimum triple the capability, if not more.

Marshal McBride sat down in his wooden chair and motioned for the couple to take the guest seats, which they did.

"I'll cut to the chase. As the marshal overseeing these parts, I cannot ignore the sudden appearance of people like you. While I would be happy to provide you with work for as long as I can, Northshire lies in the peaceful corner of Elvynn, a serene jewel in the Kingdom of Stormwind. But beyond these peaceful borders, the kingdom cries out for heroes to lead the front lines of civilization. Monsters, criminals, and all kinds of dangers are lurking around everywhere in other parts of the kingdom, where your talents are desperately needed at every point. So I have to ask, what are you two planning to do?"

"We want to travel the kingdom and perhaps venture beyond to help the common folk before we settle into our new lives," Buku replied, her voice tinged with determination. "For now, we have no way back home and, truth be told, there isn't much of a reason to return. Our homeland is a small island nation and life there wasn't particularly great, nor do we possess the means to return."

"I see, so it is safe to assume you don't have any affiliation with continental nations?" His response was as routine as the scratch of his quill on parchment, scritching away with the same sounds as it had for years past. He grabbed a blank parchment and penned a standard letter of recommendation, one that could be presented to any crown official if need be.

It was paramount that the pair remained under watch by the nation. In the best-case scenario, they could be valuable assets against the nation's adversaries; at worst, they could have nefarious agendas, necessitating swift and decisive action to neutralize them.

"No. We have little knowledge of the rest of the world. Hence we wish to travel around to know the world better," Ainz explained.

"Wanderlust, the siren's call of all adventurers." the marshal chuckled in response. "Here is a letter of recommendation to bypass standard evaluations and undertake more dangerous tasks if you so feel or require it. One more thing, be sure to read up on the local laws before leaving. You can find a book in the Abbey's library, Brother Paxton can help you find it, our customs may be different from yours."

"We'll do just that." Ainz nodded, accepting the letter from the marshal before tucking it into a pocket.

"Excellent. Let's get you your payment and you can be on your way." He stood up and led them to the main hall. The constable quickly reported a bounty of two hundred forty-five candles in the bag, which amounted to two gold and forty-seven silver coins as the reward. He retrieved the funds from the vault and handed over the silver and copper coins, as gold in the area was impractical.

Once the pair was out of sight, he returned to his office, feeling the weight of concern still hanging over him like an ominous storm cloud. He pulled a bottle of rum from the cupboard, its amber liquid shimmered like molten gold as it beckoned him. Taking a swig, the warmth spread through him, though it did little to dispel the gnawing sense of unease that Ainz and Buku could cause lots of trouble if left unchecked. But such concerns were not for him to solve. If they indeed were a threat, the nobles and the operatives of SI:7 could deal with them.

<X>

The first order of business was to pay for the skewer the kind lady had given it on credit, and Buku, with a grateful smile, added a few copper coins on top as a generous tip for the woman's kindness before promptly purchasing a few more to gnaw on.

The payment of over two gold coins in this world's standard currency was a windfall, allowing them to take things easy and not worry about funds for a while. They would use these as needed, only using their Yggdrasil currency if desperate. Buku let out a contented sigh as she devoured another succulent skewer of meat, savoring each tender bite with an ever-constant expression of delight on her face. She then turned her attention to a honey muffin she had purchased from another stall, its golden surface glistening with sweetness, begging her to take a bite out of it. Her true form, a formless slime with an insatiable appetite, allowed her to indulge in as much food as she liked so there was no reason to worry about her figure. She reveled in the sensory delight, each morsel a tiny celebration of her unrestrained indulgence of mankind's delicacies.

"This is so good!" She gushed after taking the first bite.

"Is it?" Ainz asked, still baffled. He couldn't get his head around the concept of honey. Sure, the artificial taste was sugary and somewhat pleasant, but natural honey was supposedly made by bugs called bees, and the whole idea made him queasy. Buku, unlike him, was ready to taste pretty much everything once and only then make a judgment if she liked it or not.

"Here, try it." She stated, tearing off a small piece and holding it before his mouth.

"I… that is real honey on it…" He leaned away, his apprehension clear.

"Exactly. It tastes fantastic." She pushed the piece closer to his lips, her persistence unwavering.

"Buku, I-"

As he tried to make more excuses, his wife used the opportunity and popped the piece into his mouth. "Just taste it!"

A sweet sensation enveloped his tongue, a tad overwhelming in his opinion but pleasant nonetheless. Ainz slowly chewed on the piece, the airy texture of the muffin mingling with the rich, natural sweetness of the glazed honey.

"See?" she declared, her smile triumphant.

"It's too sweet," Ainz commented, his face scrunching slightly.

"You just don't know what good stuff is," She huffed.

"On the plus side, there will be more for you," He replied with a sly smile.

"Whatever. Let's rent a room and get some booze." Buku pulled her husband towards the inn. She was in too high of spirits to sulk about Ainz's 'lack of enthusiasm' for sugary things.

{ I think I have poison immunity, and so do you. } Ainz reminded her.

{ So I can't get hammered? Wait, all passives could be toggled on and off… yup. I can turn off my poison immunity. }

{ Hmm, for tasting purposes we can try turning it off. } Ainz agreed. It was better to experiment in a safe zone like the one they were in with not many people around knowing them.

The tavern was a haven of rustic charm and bustling energy, of organized chaos and chaotic organization. A room with a double bed cost only twenty copper coins, which they quickly noted for price comparisons. Since it was still afternoon, they settled in the tavern area which was filled with locals and adventurers alike, chatting and cheering. Tavern maids weaved expertly through the throng, balancing platters heaped with frothy mugs and clinking bottles, their dishes and appearances pleasant to the senses.

People drank, ate, and generally had a good time. In one corner, a larger group was singing hearty songs, partially off-tune but entertaining nonetheless. In another, a group of younger men engaged in organized arm wrestling, slapping down copper coins as bets with each new contest. In the dimmer, more intimate corners, young couples enjoyed their time together, exchanging shy smiles and subtle touches.

Ainz and Buku chose a smaller table with only two seats, a perfect spot for some quiet relaxation relatively alone. Buku was quick to order several mugs of ale, a large bottle of wine, and plenty of delicious-sounding snacks to complement their drinks.

The food and drinks alone made this new world feel like a paradise, offering them a taste of simple, unspoiled pleasures they had only dreamed of before, even if they knew that technically it was inferior to what Earth could've offered during its prime. They blended in seamlessly and enjoyed what this less advanced civilization had to offer, all of its ups and downs in the dishes, from the slightly burnt edges of roast meat bits to the slight sourness of the wine.

The first few mugs of ale went down quickly, their laughter and conversation flowing as freely as the drink between the two. The tavern's ambiance only grew more enchanting as the evening wore on. The flickering lanterns cast a warm, golden glow over the rough-hewn wooden tables and the lively faces of the patrons and customers alike. The air was thick with the aroma of roasted meat, fresh bread, and the earthy scent of ale.

Despite her body's new constitution, Buku's cheeks flushed a soft pink, suggesting she had turned off her resistances. She moved her foot along Ainz's leg with a subtle, playful smirk, her intentions unmistakable. Ainz knew that look very well - Buku, with her newfound strength, was ready for a night of adventure surpassing all the enjoyments of the day they already had experienced, and she wanted to visit the bed as soon as possible.

Ainz finished his drink as Buku gulped down the last of the wine, shoveling the last few tidbits into her mouth. She placed the empty bottle on the table and leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and lust, "I want a proper test run of my new body."

"I think that can be arranged," Ainz replied, a knowing smile spreading across his face.

"Then let's go. This day has been long enough," she agreed with a sensual glint in her eye.

The tavern's warm, lively atmosphere seemed to hum with anticipation as they stood and made their way to their room. The night was still young, and the promise of adventure loomed ahead, making their hearts race with excitement.

<X>

His new race ensured Ainz wouldn't tire without sleep, a blessing for sure for the great relief from one of humanity's worst (or best) constraints. Buku was happily sleeping and mumbling. It had been only an hour since she had drifted off, yet the sun was already painting the room with its early morning rays. Ainz lay beside her, mentally going through his spell list on the remnants of the bed, internally sighing.

Buku had become plain feral when they hit the bed, even more ferocious than before by magnitudes. His robe had been torn to bits just from her getting it off of him and her armor was tossed all around the room. She surely didn't hold back trying to find the limitations of her and his new bodies. And while the experience was divine, Ainz couldn't help but worry about explaining the wreckage to the innkeeper when they eventually checked out. It seemed likely they would have to depart hastily, never to return to this area, out of sheer embarrassment and fines.

An hour later, Buku stirred awake, slowly sitting up and stretching languidly with a satisfied yawn. "Now this is what I call a great first day."

She looked around the room and then at the remains of the bed with its splinters littering the floor. "We might need a stronger bed next time. You did have a Create Greater Item spell, right?"

"I do, but-"

"Don't worry darling. I'll handle this. Though we might need to make a quick exit!" Buku declared, standing up and stretching again. "I wonder if they have bathhouses. Hey, we need to find a lake or river and wash up."

Ainz smiled in response to her contagious energy, she had slept an hour and was more energetic than she had been with ten on Earth. Buku was positively shining and so giddy, he couldn't help but catch some of her infectious good mood. He followed suit, selecting a fresh low-tier robe from his inventory in a similar style and color since the old robe donned was no longer suitable. Perhaps when he practiced his magic more he could repair it, but otherwise, it was saved as scraps.

As they descended the stairs into the tavern area, all eyes turned towards them. Before anyone could open their mouths to comment, Buku hurried over to the innkeeper, pressing a golden Yggdrasil coin into his hand. "I am sorry about the damage. This should be enough to cover the costs."

"You know lady, some folks thought you were summoning a demon up there! Your husband is a lucky man, that's for sure." The innkeeper, a man in his forties, remarked with a chuckle, accepting the coin and giving it a curious bite. "I'll be damned, this is real gold. This will be enough."

"They left the room? Get a priest to exorcize the room!" A loud woman's voice echoed from the kitchen, followed by murmurs from across the room.

"It would be easier just to burn everything," added another gruffer voice.

'Perhaps I shouldn't go all out until we have proper privacy. To hell with it.' Buku grabbed Ainz's biceps and led her husband out of the inn with a triumphant smile, devoid of any shred of shame or regret whatsoever. They would be the talking point of the valley anyway, might as well leave two kinds of legends behind.

The idea of people being envious of Ainz for having a wife like her fed her already sizable ego to reach new heights.

{ So, what are we doing today? } Buku asked casually, as if oblivious to the many eyes following their every move.

{ We need to check on local laws as the marshal suggested. } Ainz replied, his expression stony. Unlike his wife, he didn't take the commotion they caused as an achievement, choosing to move on.

{ I was thinking… You know, if we're truly powerful, we shouldn't just bend over and work for others. We should carve out our own place. Adventuring is fun and all, but sooner or later, someone will try to put collars around our necks to make us their bloodhounds, believing they could given our relatively low status. Artemel did mention something about us creating our own Empire. } Buku sent a message as they walked towards the abbey.

{ I think for now, we should learn as much as we can about the world, then decide upon our future. It is safe to assume that we no longer have a limited lifespan, so caution is necessary. } Ainz replied thoughtfully.

{ Sure. But you know, I would like to be an Empress by your side on a throne. But it's not just my decision, what would you like to make of our lives darling? } Buku expressed her ambitions.

Ainz knew Buku thrived on adoration and being in the limelight, so ruling over a realm would fulfill practically all of her wildest desires. Unless they became famed adventures, but the pathway and goals to that were unknown. For him, however, things were different. Deep down he knew what he wanted, he harbored a longing. Despite seemingly moving forward, he couldn't shake the memory of his and his friend's masterpiece, The Great Tomb of Nazarick, even if they couldn't recreate it completely in this world. Perhaps he could obtain it once more.

{ Rebuilding Nazarick in this world seems appropriate since we both carried our guild name to this world. } Ainz suggested to Buku, hoping it would be a good idea.

{ Uuh… that is a fantastic idea. That would be the name of our Empire and instead of a plain boring castle, we would have an impenetrable dungeon as our seat of power! } Buku instantly latched on to the idea, gleeful as they walked onwards.

Would such ambition be possible? Ainz couldn't say for certain, but the goal resonated deeply with him. Besides finding a way to bring Itsuki to this world, creating a kingdom with Nazarick at its core felt like a monumental objective worth pursuing. It just felt … right.

Editing by: NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, Ainz-sama, Malguis, miraculous-trash, fvvck, and aidan_lo.

Link my discord server (https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2)

Chapter 8: Volume 1 - Chapter 08

Chapter 8

The air was thick with motes of dust, illuminated by thin shafts of light streaming through the narrow windows. The smell of aged parchment and ink filled the stone halls, mingling with the tranquil crinkling of pages being turned and the quills scratching with purpose. The stone hall provided a useful respite from the hot morning sun.

Ainz and Buku settled into the abbey's library, a sanctuary of knowledge in the local region, eager to find out as much as they could about the world they now inhabited. While Ainz was skimming through the tomes detailing the world's history, his eyes rapidly absorbing the history of the empires and the legends of venerable heroes and disastrous villains, Buku poured over a training manual of various specializations, one after the other.

In the background, a group of monks diligently copied books by hand, their robes whispering against the floor as they shifted from place to place. The librarian, a man named Brother Paxton, bustled about, ensuring everyone had what they needed, from more paper to water. He had provided Ainz with all the books he requested on the topic and was now dusting the nearby shelves, careful not to disturb the precious volumes holding both new and old knowledge.

Curious about the determined manual labor of copying books by hand, Ainz asked Brother Paxton why printing presses weren't more widely used. The answer turned out to be rather simple yet surprising for the two former humans used to high transmittance of information; due to the overall low level of education among the populace, there wasn't much incentive to use the printing press for mass-produced books, and the higher-ups had invested little in raising that level to keep power consolidated. It then came as a surprise that the technological level widely differed between regions. The most primitive races still lived in practically tribal societies, with the one they were in somewhere in the middle, while the most advanced ones like the gnomes hoarded technological marvels with machines closer to science fiction than medieval times.

As much as technology was a concern, there wasn't much he could do about it right now even if a small part of him nagged at him to take action. He could only hope that this world didn't suffer the same fate as Earth did when technological advancement became a global matter and caused hell for those not born into heaven. However, there was one huge difference between the world called Azeroth and Earth: magic. Guns, which had dominated Earth's battlefields, were far less effective here. Mana shields could deflect bullets, and armor enchanted to repel projectiles would render most advanced weapons useless. Perhaps only the strongest guns would be able to take down any proper magician or magic-wielding beast.

Also, the strength and physical prowess of people widely differed between races and even within races. Renowned champions performed feats that far surpassed what Earth's best athletes could achieve, empowered by magic and superior equipment. Heroes and warriors could leap great distances in seconds, shatter boulders with a single strike of their palms or swords, and endure huge wounds that would be fatal to an, otherwise, ordinary human.

Ainz was in a conundrum, there was so much he needed to know yet a lot of information was either outdated or unreliable in some shape or form. The last three decades alone had seen three major wars, each reshaping the world to a great degree that rendered many records useless. History books only covered human nations, many of which no longer existed. It seemed futile to memorize the name of the first human king or how he united the human tribes into a powerful kingdom. The slow pace of information travel and recording only hindered this, meaning crude maps could be outdated by upwards of years.

From what Ainz could gather, the first war started when orcs, creatures originating from another world, managed to find their way to Azeroth through a magical portal. Their invasion nearly wiped out the humans altogether, the scale and ferocity of the war were staggering, to say the least for humanity. He envisioned the scenes described; towering orcish brutes, their muscles rippling, leathery skin, charging through the portal with war cries that shook humanity to the core. Human defenders stood to oppose them; knights in shining armor held the line with unwavering resolve, mages casting spells that lit up the battlefield.

The second war saw the remaining human kingdoms forging an alliance with high elves, dwarves, and gnomes. Together, they pushed back against the green-skinned, demon-worshiping invaders who, in turn, enlisted more races into their ranks, forming the horde. Orcs, a powerful warrior race that had been fleeing their dying planet through dark magics guided by their depraved warlocks, formed the bulk of this horde. Their arrival was like a storm, their axes cleaving through any resistance in their way. Alongside them came the ogres, towering behemoths eleven feet tall, even stronger than the orcs, but most of them were dulled and barely capable of coherent speech. The last were the Azeroth native trolls, a cannibalistic and warlike race with great regenerative abilities.

This continent-encompassing war filled with bloodshed and valor ended in the total defeat of the horde as the alliance managed to pull through by the skin of their teeth. The remaining orcs were put in internment camps, defeated and broken. Things changed little for two decades, the world saw a fragile peace many hoped would last longer than it did. At least until a young orc named Thrall rose from the ashes of his people's despair. He liberated the orcs from their imprisonment and led them across the sea, away from the human kingdoms, abandoning the main continent entirely.

Then the third war started, ripping apart the alliance. First, the undead outbreak quickly decimated the northern human kingdoms, turning the once vibrant lands into barren wastelands of death and decay few dared to traverse. The threat of the undead scourge then grew to threaten all living beings in Azeroth, forcing the rest to ally together once more. Yet this was merely the first part of the conflict, as a massive demon army called the Burning Legion invaded, nearly destroying the world in the process. The skies darkened with their arrival, storms of hellfire scorching the lands they traversed through. Their leader, a powerful demonic lord named Archimonde, was hellbent on obliterating the entirety of the world of Azeroth for some reason they never learned of. The world was on the edge of annihilation until the final battle on the newfound continent called Kalimdor, home to an ancient race of the enigmatic Night Elves, occurred. They too, with their deep connection to nature, joined the alliance and horde in the last struggles of life. Ultimately, the night elves sided with the Alliance after the war once the old conflict tore the fragile peace to bits and pieces.

The abbey's library, with its dust motes and aged parchment, seemed to whisper these tales of destruction and valor into his mind, the refined tranquility of the stone halls a juxtaposition to the utter chaos described in the ancient texts. There was still so much to learn, and Ainz tried to find out more about these recalls of events, but there wasn't much to go on with. The gaps in the historical records were frustrating, leaving a fragmented picture with much to be desired. What exactly happened in Kalimdor and how the Burning Legion was defeated wasn't documented in any book found in this library. In short, there was almost no record of the complete political situation of the world, nor could Brother Paxton offer anything after some polite inquiring.

From what Ainz could piece together, the Alliance held large parts of the Eastern Kingdoms and only had a presence on Kalimdor through the Night Elves, whose ancient lands lay in the northern part of the continent. Meanwhile, the Horde partly dominated vast parts of Kalimdor and held the northern part of the Eastern Kingdoms. The fate of the high elves, former alliance members who had split away during the third war, remained a mystery, their history lacking in the tomes he could get his hands on. Even Brother Paxton didn't know where they could possibly find information about them.

The only relevant information he got was that the former King of Stormwind had disappeared in the sea and been declared dead, his ten-year-old son crowned shortly after. Which made it clear that the nation was now run by nobles as the child king was unlikely to make any political decisions, let alone sweeping changes to the kingdom to restore his power.

Stormwind itself was a rather typical feudal monarchy, with nobility controlling most of the wealth and political decisions. There was little information on the current state of affairs for a rather obvious reason: information didn't travel as fast and likely any news came far too late to a remote corner like Northshire. And any that did would have probably been filtered by the nobility to keep the peasants dumb.

Resigned to an incomplete research, Ainz finally gave up and turned his attention to a few books on the basics of magic he had been supplied. Although Ainz found no new spells to use, he gained valuable insights into how magic was used in this world and thus how he could disguise his abilities and further empower himself. When it came to the arcane, its source was the very air with energies coming from the immaterial realm of twisting nether, suffused with mana drawn from the magical ley lines crisscrossing the land. Mages then tapped into these veins of power, channeling the energy to cast their magical spells.

It mostly was the same case with elemental magic. It wasn't merely about drawing power from the elements, but about invoking the spirits that embodied them and having them do the summoner's bidding. To summon the storm or the wind, one had to call upon the respective elemental spirits, beseeching their aid to harness their boundless power for the summoner's benefit. Ainz pondered over the nuances of elemental magic; this intricate dance between a mage and an elemental spirit added a layer of complexity to spellcasting that Ainz found both interesting and challenging, especially considering a good portion of his magical arsenal involved summoning.

His thoughts drifted to the myriad possibilities such power could offer, if mages in this world invoked elemental spirits for their spells, what tasks could one accomplish with those elementals and what was the theoretical maximum limit a person or spell could push? Fire spirits held great potential in battle, earth spirits could be invaluable for construction and agriculture; the practicality to this magic where one could have others do the magic for you could prove to be extended far beyond his wildest dreams if certain conditions could be met.

Meanwhile, Buku had finished the book on common warrior abilities, particularly knights and soldiers, and had shifted her focus to investigating the various religions of this world and their histories. They chatted through the message function, sharing the most important or interesting tidbits of information.

Unlike her husband, who read in contemplative silence, Buku preferred a more interactive approach. She chatted up with Brother Paxton, the librarian, with his stoic demeanor gradually softening as he shared his knowledge, to gain more direct information.

"So humans and dwarves worship the Light itself and not a particular deity?" She inquired, her curiosity piqued as she played up the "from a faraway land and thus has no clue about religions beyond rumors of this continent" persona.

"Yes. The Holy Light is all-encompassing. Light is the source of everything, from the smallest blades of grass to the mightiest trees. We pray for guidance and blessing, and the Light usually answers when prayers are sincere. It doesn't discriminate, shining upon us all, no matter rich or poor, young or old, sinner or saint," Paxton explained.

Buku nodded thoughtfully, absorbing his words with a heavy dash of salt. The Light, in its purity, seemed to envelop everything, a boundless force of benevolence for all those who believed in it. A divine power that touched all corners of existence without bias or judgment.

"That is interesting. But how does it work? A trained priest just prays for results and it just happens?" Buku continued the questioning.

Brother Paxton's tranquil smile deepened, "Anyone can pray and receive. We, the more dedicated ones, have attuned our minds to the service of others, and thus our prayers get answered more often, but theoretically, anyone could do so." Paxton paused, his eyes glowing with the fervor of his faith as he spoke, his hands gesturing subtly as if to encompass the very essence of light. "We are but attuned instruments through which holy lights work its miracles."

"I see. And how would I go about it if I wanted to try connecting with this light?" Buku's curiosity peaked. This force seemed to work similarly to one in the virtual game, providing blessing and healing to the living through similar methods. Ainz, as an undead, at least in theory, wouldn't be able to wield it properly, but she might under the right conditions. Of course, she might be greatly mistaken, as both of them were technically Supreme Beings and, as Artemel stated, would be able to use all types of power, Light likely being among them.

"Praying. Here, this simple prayer book should be enough." Paxton pulled out a worn prayer book from his pocket and offered it to Buku, assuring her he always had more.

Buku accepted the small book and quickly flipped through the pages. Her mind, sharper than before, absorbed entire pages within seconds, her previous human limitations gone with her previous life. 'Hmm, if I understand it correctly, I need to believe that the Light will do what I want, and since I know it works, I don't even need to believe.'

Watching Leoroy cast spells had already shown her that the light wasn't a made-up religious concept, but a real, tangible force. Perhaps prayer was just how this world's inhabitants manipulated this magic-like power.

"Sounds easy enough, I want to try it." She handed the book back to the cleric, her eyes gleaming with determination.

Paxton watched her with a knowing smile, as if sensing her intent. "Remember, the Light is patient and kind, it will guide you gently revealing its truths in due time."

"To connect with the Light is a noble aspiration, but please don't lose hope if it doesn't respond to your calls immediately. Open your heart to the Light and believe," Paxton continued to preach, his voice gentle.

"Thank you for the advice. Do you have any other tips?" Buku encouraged the cleric to reveal more, eager to gather every shred of information she could.

"Being in sunlight helps. At least for me. It provides a more tangible connection. There is a spot behind the abbey that all the beginner clerics like to use, but any sunny area could work, this one is merely quiet most of the time."

"Great. Can you show me where it is?" Buku inquired.

"Of course. Please follow me." Paxton replied, gesturing gracefully towards the door as he put down his duster.

{ I'll go outside and try using light. If it works like it did in Yggdrasil, I wouldn't want to hit you by accident. } Buku sent Ainz a message before departing from the library alongside Paxton.

{ Be careful and don't overdo it. Remember that Artemel told us we should be able to use all types of energies, light likely won't be an exception, and we've already revealed too much about our power levels. Taper it down if possible. } Ainz cautioned.

The first fight with the Kobolds had revealed just how high on the totem pole they likely were among the humans. Even without as much as straining themselves, they were already compared to human champions that, supposedly, fought the strongest of monsters found in Azeroth.

{ I know. I'll be careful and only use the most basic prayer. I doubt I'll manage to do much on the first try, but we'll never know until I try it. }

Bathed in the soothing warmth of the sunlight, Buku and Paxton made their way to the spot behind the abbey. A sunny spot marked by a large stone plate half buried in the ground, the air particles glittering in the beam. It was easy to see that this place was used by praying clergymen, so often their knees left indelible dents worn smooth into the solid stone, coupled with the occasional dropped knickknack or two.

Buku got on her knees, clasped her hands together, and lowered her head. She began to recite the prayer of fortitude she had just memorized, her voice but a soft murmur carried on the gentle breeze.

Nothing happened. Buku looked up at Paxton questioningly, concerned.

"Do not lose hope," Paxton advised gently, his voice seemingly carrying the wisdom of longtime experience. "I recited this prayer hundreds of times before receiving my first blessing. You have to believe in the light with all your heart and mind, and eventually, it will come to you."

'I know it works.' She thought resolutely, steeling herself for another attempt. She closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun on her face, and recited the prayer again. Yet still, there was no effect she could notice.

Paxton watched her with a serene patience, watching yet another possible believer attempting to join the faith. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow around them, as if nature itself held its breath in anticipation.

After five total unsuccessful attempts, Buku decided that a new approach was needed. Insanity was doing the same thing and expecting different results, and she still had her wits with her. If the Light responded to belief, then she would not only believe, she would go a step beyond. There was some advice a lot of voice actors and actors, in general, relied on, and it was the "fake it until you make it" mentality. You didn't just try to get roles and act them out from the get-go. You did it with the conviction of a megalomaniac and pushed forward with near-delusional self-assurance.

She would not just pray. She would be absolutely convinced in her ability to call for the Light that it would work. Buku took a deep breath and broke into a confident smirk. Repeating the words in her mind, not as a plea, but as an absolute order, that she was one of those who had full belief in the Light and knew, without uncertainty, that it would respond.

The moment she uttered the last word within her mind, a warmth unlike anything she had felt before washed over her body. It wasn't just warmth - it was a profound sense of empowerment, coursing through her being from head to toe. She felt her body easing up, ready to face all the hardships of the world and serve as a stalwart defender of the realm with all her might and devotion.

Buku sprang to her feet exclaiming "I did-"

The light continued pouring into her. No, it wasn't pouring in. It emanated from within, from the deepest recesses of who she was. And she felt a surge of it rising, magnitudes above what she currently felt, fast.

"I-" Buku began again, trying to comprehend the spectacle unfolding.

Before she could finish, an absolute eruption of light burst forth from her entire body, radiant and unstoppable like an avalanche of belief and devotion. Her immediate reaction was to warn the one person she truly cared about as she panicked.

{ Shield yourself! } she urgently messaged Ainz, realizing the avalanche of holy light outpouring could harm him just by the sheer output she was feeling.

{ What did you do? I… ngh! } Ainz replied, his message cut short by a grunt of pain as another explosion of holy light burst forth from Buku, spreading in all directions, blessing everything in its path - humans, animals, and plants - with the prayer of fortitude. This simple blessing gave that little extra to carry on against all odds or the limits of the body for a short while, but with her abilities, who knew what it would do.

{ Ainz!? } Buku panicked, her concern evident.

{ I am fine. What did you do? } Ainz responded, clearly not amused at her antics.

{ I attempted to perform the most basic prayer. } She sheepishly responded.

{ Basic prayer? } Ainz sounded unconvinced. He knew as a mage you'd need to input a lot of magical power to overload basic spells, hence why most just went for more efficient spells to achieve the same results, even if it had a superficially higher upfront cost.

{ Yea. I just really really believed in myself. I might have tad overdone it though. The forest is glowing. } She spoke in a small voice, akin to a child about to be scolded.

<X>

The light hit him like a speeding truck, an experience he had seen happen to many an unfortunate pedestrian. Ainz groaned in pain but quickly clamped his mouth shut, suppressing any outward signs of weakness as the light washed over him.

Luckily, it became clear that clerics didn't pay any attention to him, too enraptured by Buku's unexpected display as they quickly rushed outside, loudly praising the virtues of the Light. At most, they probably thought his groan just so happened to coincide with the Light, given how many of themselves did the same when mistakes were made when copying books.

He cast a protective shield and followed them, his mind racing with questions for Buku to answer. She had reassured him that she had only attempted the most basic prayer, and there was no reason for her to lie to him.

'It is now safe to assume that Artemel has made us so powerful we can barely contain the energies within us, threatening to burst out of us at any moment akin to an overloaded magical pop monster. I should've warned Buku not to be so reckless.' Despite her claim of casting the most basic light spell, the magnitude of the energy release baffled him, having seemingly ripped through space itself to spread as far as possible in all directions, even things covered by walls and people.

He hurriedly caught up to Buku and the clerics, battling the residual effects of the holy energies coursing through him. Luckily, he had shielded himself enough to prevent visible damage to his visage form, and much of the internal damage was already solidly in the process of repairing itself.

{ What in the…? } Ainz muttered in utter disbelief. Before him, Buku hovered about ten centimeters above the ground, adorned with two wings of pure light, glowing like a seraphim angel in Yggdrasil. Panic was etched across her face, the light power still leaking out from within her.

The moment their eyes locked, the wings and radiant light dissipated in an instant. Buku descended to the ground, staring wide-eyed at Ainz and the gathering crowd in mute shock, leaning against a wall to support herself.

{ Ainz I… it was just a basic prayer. } She confessed through 'Message'.

{ Are you alright? } Ainz inquired, his concern for her paramount over his current well-being.

{ Yes. I am fine. I feel great actually. Did I harm you? } Her voice was laced with guilt, steeped with fear that she had harmed her beloved.

{ Nothing major. I managed to shield most of the damage, } Ainz reassured her.

{ I didn't know it would end like this. I didn't even have a chance to stop, } Buku lamented, setting herself back on her two feet.

{ What's done is done. The problem is that now everyone will know that we aren't ordinary humans. We need to test your ability to wield the light as soon as possible, away from prying eyes. } Ainz strategized.

{ You know, I didn't even try that hard. It kinda makes me worried about what would happen if either of us went all out. } Buku's voice trembled with concern as she rushed over to Ainz's side, both of them attempting to create a distance from the stunned crowd as the latter pushed his way through the people who had gathered to see what was going on.

It was clear that they had to leave immediately and hope that news about their abilities wouldn't spread too fast, no matter the cost. There was no hiding themselves now.

{ We'll need to find out our limits soon, } Ainz remarked pragmatically. { But at least we know we aren't weak by any stretch of the imagination. } He reassured Buku.

She had no way of knowing the result would be this explosive, as he firmly believed she was exercising the needed caution by starting with a most basic holy spell. He knew her well enough from the time they had spent together.

For now, all they could do was to quickly buy travel supplies before the rest of the town found out and depart swiftly from the Northshire Valley for less inhabited lands. Their departure was marked with intense urgency, knowing very well their unexpected display of power had inadvertently thrust them into the spotlight, a possibly legendary and permanent spotlight.

<X>

Even for a believer, witnessing a miracle was a hard thing to process. Brother Paxton paced back and forth in his chamber, too agitated to take his nightly rest.

His eyes still stung and his vision was still blurry from the sheer exposure to the Light. He was but a mortal man and couldn't withstand such amounts of holy energies.

The investigation revealed that the woman who asked to be taught how to perform the simplest of prayers had blessed every living being in a two-kilometer radius, from the straggliest weeds and mosses to the strongest oxen and warriors. And this begged the question of who, or more precisely what, was Buku Ooal Gown. She clearly wasn't just a regular human woman to have such a connection with the Light. She had to be something more.

'A direct manifestation of the Light itself?' He couldn't help but speculate wildly, even if it wasn't his place to do so. This woman and her husband had shown up out of nowhere and demonstrated notable feats, akin to the stories told of heroes.

Finally, he just dropped to his knees and prayed for ease of heart. He was but a simple cleric in a simple town, and it wasn't up to him to ponder on such matters. All he should do was take this as a sign that the Light worked in mysterious ways, and he had seen a miracle as a sign that his faith was not misplaced.

Editing by NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading By IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, aidan_lo, Ainz-sama, LionLover, miraculous trash, and Malguis.

Link my discord server(https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2)

Chapter 9: Volume 1 - Chapter 09

Chapter 9

The shroud of ancient oaks and pine, their rough barks clawing at the sky and their thick branches weaving like baskets, formed a thick canopy. Sunrays weakly pierced through the canopy in scattered beams, illuminating small patches of green foliage and casting long shadows that danced with the gentle breeze. The ground was a natural mosaic of fallen leaves, twigs, and the occasional mushroom or moss, creating a soft, uneven carpet that somewhat muffled their footsteps. Birdsongs filled the air, and the occasional interruption occurred from the rustle of insects and small creatures scurrying through the foliage.

Ainz, with a flick of his wrist, stowed away the remote-viewing mirror back into his inventory, his eyes scanning the dense canopy above for threats. "This should be a decent spot. I didn't find any humans within a kilometer radius," he declared. It had been quite a hassle to scout the area, he had moved the view under the dense treeline to avoid any curious onlookers possibly interested in their experiments.

"There's a chance that a sentient boar or a talking bunny is nearby, which might report our activities to the government," Buku remarked, her tone even flatter than the surrounding forest floor as she started pulling the animal corpses out of her inventory.

"I could start with a negative burst and see how far it reaches and what remains," Ainz retorted, his face twisting in intense determination as death energies started to swirl around his fingertips.

"It was a joke, darling. I seriously doubt there are sentient animals even in this world, even with what I read." Buku raised a brow. She loved her husband's cautious attitude, it would keep them safe since she was far more reckless and adventurous than him, but there were limits to the caution where it simply became counterproductive if taken too far. Which he tended to do when handling the unknown.

"I know." Ainz sheepishly chuckled as he relaxed, dispelling the spell with a sigh, its energies returning to him.

"Huh…? You got me, you bastard," Buku pouted in response and crossed her arms, turning away. "It is my job to joke around!"

"We're in a strange new world. I need to keep you on your toes." He retorted, slowly approaching his pouting wife.

Buku glanced up at him, her nose twitching, and demanded, "You will give me kisses as consolation."

"That is a reasonable request." He leaned down, planting a kiss on her lips as he grinned.

"You are forgiven," She mumbled back between kisses, melting into his embrace.

"We should get back to tests," Ainz reminded her.

"Right." She reluctantly broke away and piled the last of the animal corpses onto the ground, dispensing them from her inventory. During the last few hours of travel, they had encountered a lot of wildlife that could be easily dispatched by the precise strikes of a sword or weak lighting spells, giving them quite the kill count. The bodies were a grim assortment: a deer with its once graceful neck twisted at an unnatural angle, its fur covered with dried blood; a boar, its tusks still menacing despite the lifelessness in its half-burnt eyes; wolves, their fur a stark gray against the lush green forest floor, marred by a single, fatal slash across the spine; and a bear, a massive, hulking figure, its fur a deep, rich brown now covered with dirt and blood, all having fallen before their impossible might within seconds upon encounter.

"Let's start with the same spell you used. I doubt any undead will stand a chance if I raise them before you unleash your light magic."

"Please put on a shield first. I don't want to accidentally hurt you," Buku responded as she nodded. Even if she tried to repeat the prayer of fortitude, there was a decent risk she could lose control again and bless half the forest, blasting her husband in the process at point-blank range. This rather simple light spell increased the stamina and the overall body constitution of the target, capable of changing the tide of battles if performed on a mass scale.

Buku had memorized a few other prayers during her time in town wanting to ensure she could control the intensity of her magic first before moving on to spells like smite, heal, and shield that were known to be more specific and powerful. There was also a prayer for a divine miracle or resurrection, a once-a-lifetime spell that only a select few could perform, but that was for much later. Her sharpened mind truly came in handy, when all it took was to see a page of text once and she would remember every tiny detail with ease.

"I'll just switch back to my default gear for now." Ainz pulled out his midnight black robe, the fabric as dark as a moonless night, and quickly changed outfits. He adorned himself with an array of resistance rings, each one gleaming with a faint, protective aura, to minimize his weakness towards the holy magic's searing touch. Each ring appeared to be crafted from rare, enchanted metals, imbued with ancient runes, the veritable work of gods by this world's standards, but really, they were game items he had acquired through various means. They boosted his mana, increased overall resistance across the board, and greatly lessened his weakness towards the light. One thing he was still relatively weak against was fire, but even this weakness could be lessened with other gear safely stored in his inventory which he had chosen not to bring out given the previous prayer.

Buku took a deep breath, steadying her nerves as she patiently waited for Ainz to cast a shield and bolster his resistances. She knew his equipment still wouldn't be enough if she truly went all out on a holy spell, but that wasn't her goal. In fact, the effect would likely be the same if Ainz attempted to cast death magic spells at his full capacity upon her, even with her resistance-heavy build. It was hard to tell what their new limits were, but both had to be careful as there was no such thing as friendly fire neutralization in this world, unlike in-game.

"Ready?" She asked for confirmation once Ainz had performed all his preparations.

"Ready, but try to tone it down as much as you can," her husband urged.

She recited the prayer of [Power Word: Fortitude] with a clear intention to aim it only at herself and intentionally at a vastly reduced power. Like before, light surged from within her, a radiant tide from within, but this time it was much more controlled, contained within. Her skin and eyes glowed with a soft, ethereal light, but there wasn't any explosive outburst of holy energy. Only a few bits of grass around her were blessed this time.

"Still a bit too strong. I guess I'll try this again and again until I get the hang of how to precisely regulate the amount and direction," Buku commented.

"Hmm, it's easy for me to know exactly how much mana I should use, but I guess you as a non-caster will need some practice. It is strange though since neither of us had innate knowledge of magic before," Ainz mused.

Buku's eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint, "Hey, how about you try using a sword while I practice magic? If we are both rebuilt with a specialization in mind, you'll likely be shit at it, while I can use any melee weapon I pick up with ease." With a swift, fluid motion, she tossed a sheathed sword at Ainz, who caught it with both hands.

Her suspicions were spot on. Her husband swung the sword around like a stick without any grace or technique. Despite the lack of any semblance of technique, the fact that he could wield the sword was an unexpected but welcome development for his possible growth. Both had innate knowledge that just wasn't there before, and it was there for them to build up. In the game, each class had a specific range of weapons and armor they could use, and that was it. Ainz's build prevented him from using most melee and ranged weapons with staves, maces, and wands being the only exception. She, in turn, couldn't use most powerful magical items except for those built explicitly for her archetype, and practically all magical spells were impossible for her to perform.

But now, the possibilities were literally endless. Even if their innate talent didn't lend itself to their goals, theoretically either could learn the abilities of other occupations and gradually build up a repertoire of everything else in a jack-of-all-trades fashion. All they needed was time and resources.

"It seems you're right," Ainz admitted as he handed the weapon back to her with a resigned sigh, his wife sliding it back into her inventory.

"Yup, but that means you can teach me how to use magic and I can help you train with weapons. We complement each other perfectly." Buku couldn't help but feel a smug sense of satisfaction, knowing she had an edge in melee combat despite never having trained for it.

"When I cast spells, I go with a feel of how much magic I need for a particular use," Ainz explained. "For example, try comparing how much mana you spent back in Northshire and how much you've used now. Visualize it as a numeric scale while you cast a spell, and once you've successfully comprehended that, you can begin targeting specific values." Ainz gave her pointers, his words were like a guiding light for the eager Buku.

It was easier said than done, but with Ainz's help, Buku slowly but surely gained a grasp on how much mana was required for a particular outcome for her Light magic. What's more, Buku also began to discern the subtle difference between drawing from her mana reserves and channeling the divine energy that responded to her prayers and provided the fuel for the spells.

After reciting a prayer over two hundred times in the forests, she finally had a good enough grasp to cast with finesse and avoid causing any more accidents as long as she had a grasp on her emotions. Her mana pool seemed inexhaustible, limitless even, and to her estimate she had regenerated her energy faster than she spent on training by a large margin.

While she trained, Ainz did the same with relentless dedication, repeating very basic sword moves again and again under his wife's guidance to ingrain the feeling of how the blade should be swung.

After casually blessing a random squirrel, Buku announced, "I'm ready to train the next stuff. How about you raise a zombie so I can try using [Smite]?"

"Is it a spell made to counter the undead?" Ainz inquired as he casually raised one of the wolves as a zombie, its fur, once sleek, now hung raggedly, revealing decayed flesh beneath that, due to magic, didn't have the stench of decay. For him, using necromantic magic came as naturally as breathing, and the lifeless creature was back on its feet and growling menacingly in a single moment.

"I'm not sure," Buku replied, "There were no details in the book. I can try casting it on a zombie first and then on something else and see if it works. It could just be an all-rounder spell imbued with divine energy." She raised her arm and aimed her palm directly at the wolf's head. A blinding bolt of blinding light escaped her fingertips and collided with the animal's head, turning it into nothing but ash instantly. The reanimated, now headless and thoroughly toasted creature, shuffled around a bit before falling to the ground. The ground where the wolf had stood was scorched, and the air was thick with the acrid smell of burnt meat.

Ainz waved his hand, and the headless wolf stood up once more, a charred hole existing where its neck should've been. Yet, the creature moved around with seemingly no difficulties.

"How interesting. As long as necromantic energies are present, anything can be reanimated." Ainz stoked the animal's fur for a short while and then extracted his energy from it, letting it fall lifelessly to the ground.

Buku observed her husband's actions with curiosity. 'I'm not even remotely bothered by how cruel our tests are. We are monsters, yet my love for him has only grown stronger.' For her, only he mattered. Cruelty and death weren't new concepts in their lives. She used to be the sort of person who wasn't bothered by seeing the corpses of orphans since this was hardly a rare occurrence, bearing in mind that her previous world was a toxic and unforgiving dystopian world. Life was common, and so was death.

Their eyes met, a silent understanding passing between them. Ainz seemed to have reached a similar conclusion to such feelings too, possibly even earlier than she had, and neither of them saw the need to discuss it. They weren't humans anymore, and the traits of their game avatars had replaced much of their human psyche. Early in his life, he had lost his mother to exhaustion and disease when she overworked herself to death. Therefore, Ainz now felt that his focus and objective was to ensure Buku's happiness over anyone else. This had given him motivation to learn and grow stronger both as a warrior and a caster by accumulating knowledge about Azeroth, protecting her, and helping her grow.

Returning her focus to the task at hand, she cast [Smite] on a nearby tree. Though the effect wasn't as devastating, damage was done to it nonetheless, much to her delight. A black charred spot now decorated the stump of the oak as grim proof that even the holiest of magics could be used to cause pain and destruction upon anyone and anything.

"It seems light can be used as an offensive magic towards any enemy, but it's more potent against the undead," Ainz observed.

"At least now I have projectiles if I needed; I am curious though if I would be able to use resurrect," Buku mused, discarding a corpse from the pile nearby.

"I have a few resurrection wands, but they each have a limited amount of charges, so being able to resurrect would no doubt be useful." Ainz's curiosity was piqued. While he could easily raise any living thing as an undead and control it, true resurrection would be better suited if they needed to gain someone's favor by performing such a miracle. He had a few resurrection wands; glowing short, magical artifacts made from ivory, adorned with gold, and engraved with runes imbued with the power of the 7th tier to bring the dead back to life, in his inventory. The spell could revive a dead target, provided the corpse was relatively intact and the user had enough magical power. However, If the body was too damaged, the resurrection had the possibility of failing, and the wand would shatter. Additionally, the revived subject would suffer various penalties, such as loss of level or vitality. Since the wands were of very limited supply and use, he considered using them for any purpose other than the utmost crucial need would be foolish. They hadn't even found out if they could be resurrected in this world as was the case in Yggdrasil, and death was always a possibility.

While Buku prepared to cast a spell by gathering her magical power, he turned his attention to the next set of tests: summoning. With many new undead types in his arsenal from intuition and past experiences, he decided it was better to begin testing the ones he was most knowledgeable about.

He had an instinctive knowledge that he needed a corpse to make an undead summon permanent and for low to mid-tier undead, but even animal corpses would do. This would turn out to be very useful if they had to create a force without attracting the attention of local powers, as disappearing people would surely attract more attention than disappearing livestock or wildlife.

Ainz picked the corpse of the headless wolf for the first test and cast [Summon Death Knight]. The first thing he noted was that the spell required a noticeable amount of power at its base and more energies could be used to empower the Death Knight even more if he chose to do so. Considering that his regeneration rate was simply insane, Ainz pushed massive amounts of necrotic energies into the spell, trying to make his summon as powerful as possible.

The figure that morphed and arose from the animal's corpse was that of an average-height humanoid, clad in dark gray armor with a rune-covered sword in his arms. The man's face wasn't rotting, nor did he have the traditional shield of the Yggdrasil Death Knights. His features were greyish, pale like a recently deceased corpse should be, yet his eyes glowed with eerie blue light that hid intelligence. Considerably different from the Yggdrasil summons, but still decently similar.

"I am ready to serve, master," the creature announced with a gruff, breaking voice, taking one knee.

"Tell me what you know of yourself," Ainz ordered.

"I know my name is Rainger and I have been raised to serve you, master. I do not remember what my life was like before my death, nor does it matter to me. My only desire is to carry out your will." The undead knight spoke with a deep, echoey voice.

Now having such a servant was useful but impractical. He couldn't bring it into a human city and not expect a lot of trouble at the same time from experienced fighters, yet killing it would be a waste.

"What about your abilities?' Ainz inquired about additional details.

"I have a wide array of frost, blood, and decay-related abilities that can be used to damage enemies and heal undead allies. I can raise the dead, but my ability to do so is inconsequential compared to yours. I also can use death gates to travel to places I have visited," The Death Knight explained.

"How much do you know about the world you are in?" The gate ability only seemed useful if the Death Knight knew the locations he needed to reach.

"I am quite knowledgeable about the former Kingdom of Lorderon that once stood at the northern part of the Eastern Kingdom. Unfortunately, I lack information about other parts of the world."

"I see. If I understand correctly, those territories are controlled by undead." Ainz recalled the details about the continent he read in the books.

"Correct, master." The Death Knight answered.

"I want for you to reach the undead-controlled territories in the northern part of the continent and gather information about the forces there while avoiding attention. If need be, pretend to be loyal to the local leaders and carry out their orders as long as they do not contradict mine," Ainz ordered.

For now, the best option is to use this summon to gather information about the world and then recall it to get up-to-date details. Perhaps he could even summon more if he felt like it later.

"As you command." The Death Knight rose and cast a spell Ainz found very similar to the gate spell he used, although the one Death Knight cast wasn't oval like his but a triangle with an animal skull on the tip.

'It requires a lot less energy to use here.' Ainz thought. The Death Knight, a mid-tier summon, wasn't particularly strong compared to what he could create, and to his estimates used only the seventh-tier level of magic while his gate was of the ninth tier. For now, his summon would serve as an intelligence unit and infiltrate either forsaken or scourge lands.

The creature disappeared through the gate, which closed right after he passed through.

Meanwhile, Buku was hard at work attempting to bring the boar back to life. She stood over the deceased animal and recited a longer prayer with a barely audible whisper. Holy energies swirled around her extended palms, rapidly flowing into the target of her spell.

The deep cut in the boar's gut disappeared and the creature stood up with a stagger, glancing around in deep confusion.

"It worked!" Buku exclaimed with a high-pitched shout of excitement.

"That's great." Ainz nodded, his eyes set on the animal who was growing increasingly agitated before them.

Before long, the pig let out a blood-curdling squeal and took off as fast as its stubby legs could carry the massive animal.

"Ungrateful bastard!" Buku shouted after the boar.

"I'm sure the pig wasn't too happy to be killed for experimentation," Ainz remarked dryly, chuckling.

"Yeah, I would probably have done the same in its place. Oh well, piggie can return home and develop an unhealthy addiction dealing with the traumas I caused." Buku waved after the pig as it disappeared into the trees and shrubbery. "That sounded more messed up than I intended." She added with a giggle, grinning.

"We surely need to watch our behavior when around humans," Ainz concluded, sighing.

"That we do, but hey at least we know we're practically monsters. Might as well not get hung up on moralities when it doesn't benefit us." Buku shrugged. "I think I can still care deeply about people close to me."

"Perhaps that's what Artemel meant by us being more entertaining. The old restraints are gone, even if we didn't notice that before," Ainz pondered, tapping his chin as he often did when in deep thought.

"Probably. Might as well give her a show."

With the experimentation yielding such positive results, there was no need to worry about one test subject getting away, especially if said test subject couldn't testify in a court of law.

It was time to continue the journey and some tiny details didn't warrant worry. They needed to reach a suitable town before sunset and there was still at least an hour's walk to reach the nearest one, plus the obligatory observations in case the news had spread to that town and they had to run.

Editing by NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, aidan_lo, Ainz-sama, miraculous-trash, fvvck, Malguis, and I AM THE STRING CUTTER.

Link my discord server (https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2)

Chapter 10: Volume 1 - Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The entrance of Stormwind City was an awe-inspiring sight for all who visited the city. Behind the immense gate that stood open, inviting people to explore the city freely, was a majestic stone bridge with five larger-than-life statues with vague and lauding descriptions of the most notable heroes of the Second War, where Ainz could determine who each statue represented. They were the ones who had led the army through the dark portal to stop the mad warlock Ner'zhul, hellbent on creating more such portals to other worlds, and in the process were lost in action when the dark portal closed for good during a decisive battle at the other side, with no way back and presumed dead.

The first two statues depicted the commander of gryphon riders, Kurdan Wildhammer, and the force commander of the Alliance Expedition, Danath Trollbane. By his comparatively shorter stature, it was easy to denote that Kurdan was a dwarf.

Next were the statues of Archmage Khadgar and Ranger Captain Alleria Windrunner. Khadgar was one of the most renowned mages in the world known for his unrivaled ability among his peers, and Alleria was a well-known high elven hero even before the invasion and was one of the first of her kind to join the alliance.

The last statue depicted General Turalyon, a paladin of The Order of the Silver Hand, and the man who had slain the leader of the Horde, Orgrim Doomhammer in single combat.

As Ainz and Buku walked past these statues, Ainz explained who each figure was to his wife. They were met with curious gazes of passersby as the city buzzed with activity, given that pretty much everyone knew the stories already. Caravans with goods moved in and out of the city, and adventurers returning or departing who couldn't care less. However, some were notably more tense than others when passing by them, a notice of possible concern for Ainz.

{ Earth had war after war with just humans present and there are so many different races. I think the moment they discover a nuke, it'll be game over for the world, } Buku commented.

{ Not if we can do something about it. If we're to live forever, let alone in peace, we'll have to make sure Azeroth doesn't suffer the same fate as Earth. I don't know how, but we have to try and prevent nuclear wars, unchecked progress, and unbridled corruption. If we can't do it, we might get stuck in another hellhole, and there's no guarantee of a third chance. } Ainz shared his worries. He couldn't help but remember their world, his thoughts swirling like dark clouds, where the destruction of the environment had continued at an ever-increasing pace to the point where the surface of the Earth was hopelessly polluted beyond anything humanity could do. The governments had basically ceased functioning, and the police remained only in name, mere pawns for mega-corporations and rich trillionaires to run the world.

{ Even more reason to build our own empire, to ensure we stand at the top. We just need to figure out where to start. Ruling over humans might prove to be difficult once they figure out we aren't like them. Hey, do you sense it? I think someone has started to follow us. } Buku's attention suddenly shifted from statues to the passing crowds. Ainz quickly snapped his attention back and focused his senses on the throngs of people.

{ … Yes. But I can't pinpoint from where. Someone well-hidden is lurking around. Probably local powers taking notice of us. I have no doubt your stunt was reported to the leaders of Stormwind and probably the leaders of every other major settlement in the region. } Ainz confirmed her suspicion.

{ Eh, for now, let's just play the roles of upstanding and heroic people and let them think they can rely on us to solve their problems. Gather a few favors while minimizing responsibilities. } Buku suggested as they crossed another gate.

Stormwind City was a marvel of craftsmanship for a so-far mostly medieval world. The architecture was grand, with towering spires and sturdy stone walls that spoke of wondrous aesthetics and durable defense. The buildings themselves were built with finely hewn stone, and adorned with intricate carvings. Richly colored banners fluttered in the gentle breeze as the tiles making up the rooftops glinted in the sunlight like a sea of jewels. The streets were alive with activity, sights, sounds, and smells, signs of a bustling and unsuppressed populace. Cobblestone pathways weaved through the city, lined with bustling market stalls and stores.

The city was just as busy inside as it was from afar. The large sign declaring that they were in a trade district was unnecessary; anyone with eyes would have instant confirmation after seeing the thriving market restrained within. The rows of houses, from where the merchants hawked their wares, had colorful signs advertising every imaginable establishment in their path. From cheese houses and alchemical shops to armor vendors, weapon experts, and everything else, a citizen of the kingdom would only ever need to shop here for their entire lives. The air was filled with the chatter of townsfolk and the occasional shout of a street performer entertaining a crowd, a cacophony of organized chaos.

Buku's attention was caught by a man loudly advertising a wine shop, yelling at the top of his lungs through a cone. The man was standing on a crate and handing out colorful pamphlets to people who approached him, beaming with smiles. She gracefully pushed through the crowd, eager to gain something from the exchange, her husband following her.

"Greetings and welcome to the Stormwind City, miss. Can I interest you in sampling our fine wines? My sister runs a shop by the canal not far from here." The man, having surely noticed her, leaned down with a pamphlet in his hand, smooth with experience.

"You surely can." Buku flashed a radiant smile and accepted the small piece of paper adorned with an address and a coupon for a complimentary bottle of Pinot Noir with their first purchase, sliding it into a pocket.

The location of the wine shop wasn't far away, only about a five-minute walk from their current location in the district. Ainz saw no reason not to visit a wine shop and let his wife have a few bottles of the stuff, counting the prices around the store meanwhile for further reference. He wasn't the biggest fan of wine, preferring beer instead, but the local beverages were simply too good to be ignored.

The tail was still on them and as much as Ainz tried to find the culprit using subtle detection magics and radars, the spy was incredibly well hidden. He let Buku go inside and rampage through the shop, spending their money on a whole host of drinks while he stood outside and scanned the scenery.

Sensing no magic present, he had to conclude that the spy was using special abilities to hide his presence, or at least magic he hadn't yet learned about. Just because they could use every magic didn't mean they knew every magic.

'How could I locate you? I'll have to look into summoning undead that can detect invisible targets. There are so many new ones in my arsenal that I've yet to test.' His glance fell onto three men in full plate armor slowly approaching the shop. They were clad in the same armor as the city guards' uniform, their blue tabards decorated with a golden lion plated on top. Two were wearing helmets and the third, clean-shaven with short black hair, held a determined expression. His bushy black brows moved ever so slightly as his dark brown eyes firmly fixated on Ainz, the two making eye contact.

'They're staring at me. This isn't good.' Ainz thought to himself, For now, the best course of action was to try and resolve things without violence and assume that the city guard only wanted to talk.

"Good day sir, I am Constable Werner Harding, am I speaking with Ainz Ooal Gown?" The man greeted him with a salute, speaking in a loud, clear voice befitting a soldier.

"You are, is there a problem, constable?" Ainz asked while sending Buku a quick message { City guards are questioning me, be ready to run. }

{ What the hell do they want? } Buku emerged from the shop with three bottles of wine in her arms, her eyes giving the three men a questioning glare.

"There indeed is a problem, and the Crown would like to recruit you and your wife to help deal with it. The tales of your capabilities have reached this city, and we believe you would be capable enough to help." The constable's voice was firm, yet there was a hint of deference, acknowledging their rumored potential.

Ainz's eyes narrowed, "And what exactly does the Crown require our assistance with?"

"What does agreeing to help entail?" Buku joined in on the conversation, her tone hinting a bit of caution and intrigue as she slid the bottles into a sack.

"First, I will require an oath of secrecy on the matter. If the news of this problem spreads, the city populace might take rash actions. Do I have your word that you won't discuss, what I am about to reveal with anyone?" Werner demanded, his tone only growing harsher as the soldiers behind him grasped their blades.

Buku exchanged a glance with Ainz, their minds aligning in a silent agreement. { They are in deep shit and want us to save their asses. Do you think we should? } Buku inquired. They needed to be on the same page before answering.

{ Assuming you're correct and they're not setting up a trap to make us serve Stormwind against our will if we refuse to help, we might take a hit to our reputation. It seems part of our abilities is already common knowledge, and we have established a reputation as strong fighters. } The air around them seemed to thicken with tension as Ainz and Buku hurriedly deliberated. The constable's gaze was unwavering, his eyes searching theirs for any sign of agreement or defiance, unaware of the communication going on between the two.

{ Sure, we can play heroes for now. I do wonder how hard it is to even harm us. } Buku nodded, letting Ainz proceed onward.

Finally, Ainz broke the silence, "You have our word that we will keep this matter secret."

Werner's stern expression softened slightly, a hint of relief flashing in his eyes, "Thank you. The Crown appreciates your cooperation."

He glanced around, took a deep breath, and then lowered his voice, his soldiers having already formed a containment around them. "The city guard has lost control over stockades and the prisoners are in open revolt, trying to break free. Most of them are Defias Brotherhood members, and likely have hidden support in the city, as crime rates have risen in the last few days, keeping the guard away from resuming control over the prison and catching those responsible. If those murderous thugs get out, they will not hesitate to indulge their sick urges with honest people. I have lost ten guards inside, six men and four women, and I dread to imagine what was done to them."

"Grim business, indeed. If we agree to help, what would you ask us to do?" Ainz asked.

"Everything you can. The warden has given clear orders to stop the riots by any means necessary. Between you and me, I would just put them all down like mad dogs. But even little things like healing the wounded guards and helping to hold the door intact would help, with your wife's abilities of blessings tremendously so. A lot of fine young men and women gave their lives to protect the citizens, the more deaths we can prevent, the better."

"We will solve this problem for you, but we will do so on our terms. Make no mistake, we wish to help but we will not become pawns of the Kingdom." Ainz replied.

Werner nodded, relief washing over him and his subordinates. Better to secure their help for now and establish a line of communication than coerce them and earn their enmity, "Great. Let's not waste any time. The stockades are located under that keep." He pointed at a towering stone fortress just further away from the canal, glaring at the place.

{ I wonder how it'll feel to kill humans. The old me would have got physically sick at the idea. } Ainz shared his feelings with his wife as they began to follow the constable.

{ Killing has been easy so far, fun even. I don't think dealing with humans will be any different, rather I'm more curious to find out if they even can harm us, you know, with passive protections and high-tier physical nullification, I can probably not worry about direct attacks at all, and as long as you're careful you shouldn't either. On top of that, I can heal myself. Let's go grind some XP. } Buku started to grow excited, her voice tinged with dark excitement.

{ I'm not sure if XP is even a thing. We likely cannot even gain any resources as the guard would probably notice missing corpses. We should negotiate for payments in coin instead. } Ainz responded. It came as a huge relief that Buku was eager to discard the old moralities and that he didn't need to pretend for her sake.

The people of this city meant nothing to him, sure, but Ainz didn't want to make them suffer for no reason, yet there was no attachment to them either. Human life held no higher value than any other living thing in his mind. It was merely a resource, meant to be utilized to the fullest potential through almost any means possible.

They had discussed their moralities already in the forest, but until now, they hadn't killed humans yet, and he had to admit to himself that the idea made him feel no different than killing an animal or stomping a bug. Luckily, Buku was quick to embrace their monstrous nature and found enjoyment in it as well.

As they approached the keep, the constable sent one of his men ahead to warn the warden present. There were a lot of city guards around the keep, likely in preparation for the worst-case scenario while also subtly keeping the occasional citizen away.

But it was only the tip of the iceberg, as within the stone building they found a desperate fight for control, guards rapidly ascending and descending the stairs leading downward as a handful of priests scrambled to heal the wounded and bless those re-entering the combat zone. The thick scent of blood and sweat permeated the air, mingling with the acrid smell of fear both could distinctly sense. The standing guards were armed to the teeth, their armor dented and scratched from the fierce clash, and those were the lucky ones. Clerics shuffled among them, their hands glowing with holy light, murmuring prayers and spells to close gaping wounds and mend broken bones. Cries of the injured and the relentless shouts of orders filled the air, clashing with the cacophony of blades, armor, and stone shrieking mere meters below them.

{ These men don't look like they just shanked at will, someone has given them more serious weapons.} Buku noted, her eyes scanning the injured and the dead and noting their grievous wounds.

{ If there's some conspiracy going on, it's better for us to feign ignorance and look out for potential enemies we'll make by stopping this riot. } Ainz once again chose caution. All witnesses could ever confirm was that he and Buku were called in to help without any inside knowledge of how the riot started, nothing more.

"There you are. I'll get right to the business and the reward can be discussed later." A man with an eyepatch and shoulder-length dark brown hair approached them, his thick mustache soaked in sweat, giving off a rugged edge to his stern demeanor as a shortsword swung by his side.

"Are you the one in charge?" Ainz inquired.

"I'm Warden Thelwater, in what manner can you contribute? If you can fight, I prefer to send you both down there. My men are getting exhausted." He pointed at the stairway leading down into the darkness.

"We can clear the whole thing for you. Just tell me, should we try to spare any lives?" Buku unsheathed her sword and picked the shield off her back, Ainz pulling out a stave.

The warden eyed them with skepticism before questioning, "You plan to stop the entire riot on your own and ask if someone should be spared? Missy, there are four hundred armed men down there, most of them seasoned killers." He dragged the back of his hand over his mustache, wiping away the sweat.

"Unless there are champions among the prisoners, we should be able to deal with them all," Ainz assured the man.

"If you can do that, I'll pay from my own pocket if I have to. If some of those scum choose to surrender, then sure, you can let them live, but I won't lose any sleep over it if you don't. The rest would be put to the gallows for this anyway for the murder of our guards!" The warden exclaimed, cutting their conversation short as he rushed over to help carry another heavily wounded guard onto a stretcher.

"Let's go kick some ass," Buku smirked, taking the lead with a swagger in her step as her blade began whistling. The whole operation was bound to be messy, but not only would they get paid and recognized as upstanding heroes, but they would also get some target practice on test subjects that had nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. Ainz had a whole array of spells he wanted to try out as well, ready to blast them to smithereens.

Editing by NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, miraculous-trash, Ainz-sama, fvvck, Malguis, I AM THE STRING CUTTER, and aidan_lo.

Link my discord server (https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2)

Chapter 11: Volume 1 - Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The whole underground complex was dimly lit, with haggard guards holding the line just a few steps away from the stairway, slamming shields and stabbing spears. Convicts were assaulting the line in coordinated hit-and-run strikes, using dropped equipment and each other in every assault. Their numbers swarmed at least three dozen strong in the long hallway, outnumbering the guards almost two to one.

One coordinating attacker from the back rows took notice of Buku and shouted with a predatory grin, "Boys, looks like we've got a new lady! Remember to be gentlemen and wait your turn!"

Upon hearing what they planned to do with his wife through their cheers and roars, Ainz was filled with such rage that it took multiple emotional suppression moments to calm him down again. His arm rose on its own accord, ready to cast a lightning spell toward the criminal, but he was too late.

Buku let out a fierce snarl and charged forward, hurtling past both the guards and the current wave of attacking criminals. Her armored foot connected with brutal precision, delivering a bone-crushing kick to the leader precisely between the legs.

Ainz heard the distinct sickening crunch amid the cacophony of clashing bodies and desperate cries as the man flew about a meter up in the air and then fell to the ground, convulsing in agony and a guttural cry leaking from his lips. Without hesitation, Buku flipped with lethal grace mid-air, decapitating all the attackers between her and the line of guards with a swing of her blade.

The commotion stopped. The remaining criminals retreated, taking defensive positions, fear etched on their faces as they stared at the newcomers. The guards took the chance to regroup and send their wounded back up before taking formation behind the woman.

Buku, still worked up, took a step forward and, snarling like a beast, shouted with a voice raw and primal as it echoed off the cold stone, "Let's dance, you limp-dick pricks!"

Her challenge hung in the air for a few moments, and in that underground area, the battle shifted with a bang. Ainz, seeing the opportunity, shot a fireball right past Buku, sending it on a collision course with a group of convicts huddled together. They were rather close to Buku, so he warned her just in case as he fired. { Close your eyes. Fireball! }

Buku ignored the warning, grinning as she surveyed her prey. Her resistances were high enough not to suffer any damage from such a low-level spell, and she could cast healing spells on the off chance even if she got mild burns.

The projectile exploded upon impact, engulfing ten criminals in white-hot flames, searing and boiling sounds mixing with their agonizing cries. The air quickly filled with the stench of burned flesh and hair.

"Hold the line. We'll take care of this," Ainz ordered the guards as he walked past them with a confident stride, arming himself with another spell.

Together, he and Buku strode deeper into the prison, cutting down, burning, and electrocuting the convicts before them without mercy or hesitation. They seemed unstoppable, racking up the kill count.

As they moved forward, three cell doors sprung open simultaneously and five men suddenly attacked from within, making near-simultaneous slashes and jabs at the duo.

Their attacks, however, had no effect as the steel weapons bounced harmlessly off their targets, stopped by physical damage nullification.

"Pathetic," Buku huffed. "These animals can't even overcome our defenses."

"Wait, I sur-ghnn." The criminal tried to give up only to be cut short as Buku's singing sword found its way into his stomach. She intentionally drove the sword through the man and twisted the blade in a way that wouldn't cause instantaneous death, spilling his guts out the other side.

"Still, we should trace back and clear the cells as well," Ainz remarked.

"Can't you summon something to do that? Clearing every cell by ourselves is a bit of a waste of time if you ask me," Buku suggested. Unless somewhere in these dark halls someone powerful was hidden, killing these criminals was like mowing the grass.

'I can only personally summon undead and demons without super tier spells, and using those would be a waste and possibly dangerous here.' Ainz liked the suggestion but couldn't risk using two kinds of creatures the city guard would take offense to. But he had another idea.

Luckily, his inventory was packed with all sorts of summoning items. Some of those were a testament to the demented nature of Yggdrasil game devs to cover as many possible ideas as possible for their once-expansive player base.

"It's not a bad idea. I guess I can use this," Ainz replied, discreetly pulling a palm-sized white amulet, shaped like a bunny face, out of his inventory.

"Wait is that… talk about adding insult to injury!" Buku cackled once she saw what Ainz was about to summon.

This particular item was noted as one of the cruelest tricks experienced players could pull on complete newbies. The four beasts called upon would take anyone not knowing better by surprise; killer bunnies.

"An overkill I know, but who knows when I'll get another chance to use it." Ainz shared a chuckle and pressed the black button in the form of a rabbit's nose before sliding it into a pocket.

Four fluffy white rabbits appeared before Ainz, sniffing around innocently, cute as could be. These summons would remain active only for twenty minutes, after which the item would go on a three three-day cooldown before it could be used again. Despite their cute appearance, these level forty-five monsters, called spear needle babies, could harden their soft fur into iron-hard needles and blitz around with deadly speed to become literal balls of death, ripping and stabbing apart anyone their summoner ordered them to.

"Kill everyone who isn't a guard," Ainz ordered. The four rabbits hopped away as Buku laughed.

One entered the nearest cell, causing a surprised shout, "Is this some sort of joke?!" followed by a series of loud metallic thuds and screams.

"This should do," Ainz remarked, satisfaction evident in his voice.

As they moved forward killing the criminals, the loud thuds continued to ring throughout the dimly lit, underground halls, accompanied by a near-constant stream of screams.

Ainz mostly stayed out of Buku's way, guiding his summons with him as they tore through one-half of the convicts. His wife was becoming increasingly enthusiastic about brutally ending the lives of the convicts, especially after they found a few of the violated corpses of guards. At least no one would claim that they gave worse treatment to women than the men, as all captured guards had shared the same horrific fate, regardless of gender.

When they reached a junction where the hall split into two directions, Ainz recalled the rabbits and sent them to clear one path for them while he and Buku took the other. Despite the low risk, he wouldn't separate from her in such a place, knowing what these convicts would do to her should they gain an upper hand by some miracle. There was still the distinct possibility that someone was backing this up after all, they could have left a last resort.

"This is like clearing a dungeon in Yggdrasil, only a lot more gore," Buku commented, a hint of dark humor in her chuckling voice.

The fun was dying down as the remaining criminals cowered and tried to give up, a mercy they didn't receive from either.

"A lot of things we've done would've gotten us banned," Ainz replied in an equally light-hearted manner.

"Well…" Buku paused, her face twisting into a demonic grin. "We could finish up the whole bingo of messed up things by doing it on a pile of corpses coated in the blood of our victims."

"Ehh!?" Ainz stopped in his tracks and stared at Buku in muted horror.

"It was a joke darling. I'm not that messed up." Buku burst into laughter.

"I thought you were serious." Ainz stared at her with suspicion, half-glaring.

"Come on, I know I'm kinky, but I'm not that messed up. Got the reaction I expect out of you though." She continued to giggle.

"Right… I think we should wrap this up." Ainz decided to let her have the upper hand this time.

"Definitely, and we're staying at the high-end inn today. I need a bath to wash all this shit off. Even for the sake of an edgy joke, I don't want to be covered in blood for long."

Ainz couldn't agree more. Though he wasn't used to luxury, washing in the rivers was getting old fast. And they still had plenty of coins.

<X>

Warden Thelwater let out an exasperated sigh at the sight of yet another group of his soldiers puking his guts out at the sight of the carnage the two heroes had left in their wake. The same soldiers that had fought for their lives and had years under their belt with him.

It had taken Ainz and Buku less than an hour to clear the entire prison, and they had done so with incredible brutality. Even the stone walls, strong enough to withstand even stronger fighters, couldn't withstand their pure might as they bore the marks of their power, with cracks spider-webbing across the cold stone and even the occasional straight cleaved-off chunk or crevice.

The few convicts they found alive wished for a quicker death, a death many of the guards were only too happy to give. Instead of granting them a quick death as humans, the heroes had chosen to maim them, painfully and slowly. With crushed spines, severed limbs, heavy burns, and spilled guts as common as dead bodies, the hardened criminals were begging not to be given to the two monsters who had slaughtered their comrades with such casual ease that left a permanent scar in their minds. One had even begun sputtering gibberish.

Yet, that was the strange duality these heroes had shown. After re-emerging from the stockades with the remains of the presumed-dead guards in their grasps, Ainz and Buku stayed to help treat the wounded with the latter's tremendous Light and the former helped to prepare the deceased guards for the last rites, from identifying body parts to recovering items through strange magics. By all means, they were the very picture of noble heroes depicted in stories and legends, benevolent to those who had fought with them.

As a hardened veteran, he had long understood the harsh realities of the world, knowing that only the children and the naive could afford to stay soft. Yet even he had a hard time believing humans were capable of such things as he had witnessed today.

"We found another one!" One of the soldiers called out.

Thelwater approached the Defias thug who had survived by cowering under the bed, clenching his shirt to the point of bleeding palms. The so-called tough criminal had soiled himself and was now whimpering like a frightened child, terrified for his life. Thelwater couldn't help but feel a bit of satisfaction seeing that one of the Defias thugs, who infamously wielded fear and terror as weapons, was now on the receiving end in a bout of poetic justice likely to go down with the bards and more intense historians.

"White beast. It killed Jaylan and Porter. It…" The thug sobbed, pointing at the two disfigured corpses. "It… white demon… Light, help us all. It looked like a bunny!" Suddenly, he grabbed onto Thelwater in a futile attempt to convince him, his eyes wild with desperation, "You have to believe me!" he screamed.

"Looks like this one's lost his mind." Thelwater shook his head. Without a second thought, Thelwater kicked him down, sending the man sprawling to the ground as another guard moved to clean up the area. There was no other way to explain why this man thought his friends were killed by a white rabbit of all things.

"I saw it. I saw it! The beast did that!" The convict pointed at the dent in the wall while trembling uncontrollably, half-crying.

"Sure it did. And if you make a fuss, the beast will return to deal with you." Thelwater remarked threateningly. He wasn't above using man's delusions against him.

"N-n-no. Light forgive me. P-p-please, forgive me. I-I won't do a bad deed ever again." The man curled up while clutching his face, devolving into sobs.

"Take him to the rest," He ordered his men and moved on. After what they had done to his soldiers, he couldn't feel any sympathy for them. If anything, most received too easy of punishment by getting killed quickly. They deserved to suffer for what they had done.

The rest of the tour though the Stockades revealed pretty much the same. In the end, only fifty-four out of four hundred forty-five prisoners had been found alive. And even fewer had most body parts intact.

'Maybe I can finally get a vacation after all this mess is sorted,' he mused. With the prison nearly empty, things were bound to calm down. Even in the best-case scenario, it would take months to fill up the cells with a new set of convicts as the neverending battle with Defias Brotherhood perpetually raged on. His second-in-command could hold the fort for a couple weeks.

Thelwater soon returned to the ground level to face the two champions after the entire place was confirmed to be clean of inhabitants. He found Ainz and Buku resting with his soldiers, sharing drinks and recounting their feats of slaughter and destruction. Many wanted to hear the gruesome details, seeking some semblance of vengeance for their fallen comrades, and the two were more than happy to supply.

"You did a number down there. Good job," He stated.

"We did promise to deal with your problem, and keeping promises is important for us," Ainz replied.

"A man of his word, like me. I will see to it that you two get your due rewards, even if I have to pay it myself. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. The king and his advisors need to hear about your deeds, as is befitting those of your caliber. But please, leave some details out, if His Majesty asks. The king is only ten and… would probably benefit not knowing what you did with the criminals in gruesome detail." Thelwater needed to make such a request. The young king had lived through a lot of tragedies, losing both of his parents at a very young age, but the boy simply wouldn't be ready to deal with the likes of Ainz and Buku.

What truly worried Thelwater was the possibility of the nobles and royalty snubbing the two heroes. The nation's elite were penny-pinching bastards who would rather jump through the hole of a sewing needle than pay someone their just dues as long as it didn't involve practically enslaving the individual to them. It was thanks to their corruption and foolishness that the Defias brotherhood existed in the first place, in direct opposition.

And then there was Katrana Prestor, the Royal Advisor. The woman was conniving, petty, and vengeful with an unhealthy amount of envy towards anyone who outshined her in any way, regardless of position or history. She had the king's ear, whispering poisonous thoughts in the young boy's mind constantly as she puppeteered him like a doll. A rather disturbing hope crossed Thelwater's mind that the woman would do something beyond foolish and perish at the hand of two champions, bringing the kingdom one step closer to actual ruling. If such a scenario came true, they would only be performing another service for the common folk of Stormwind. And if they just so happened to end a few noble lineages along the way, all the better.

Editing by NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, miraculous-trash, fvvck, Malguis, Ainz-sama, I AM THE STRING CUTTER, and aidan_lo.

Link my discord server ( https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2 )

Chapter 12: Volume 1 - Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The meeting with the leaders of Stormwind was rather straightforward and without any unnecessary delays. He and Buku were brought before the child King in the grand round throne room within the hour, surrounded by guards and politicians.

Ainz stifled a sigh, his wife doing the same. The scene reminded him of the grand throne found in the depths of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, with luxury and wealth covering every square meter. So many roleplaying events took place there over the years. The Throne of Kings dwarfed every other throne he had ever seen and he, the guild master, was the one to sit on it. He had sat on that throne in the last moments of Yggdrasil, oh how long ago that emotional moment felt now.

'Heh, I changed Albedo's story to be in love with me. Luckily there was no one to witness it.' He recounted the memory, shame permeating his undead form. 'Buku wouldn't let me live it down as long as I lived if she knew.'

How strange fate was. After making such a silly last-moment change and then he did find the love of his life in the real world which became the one he lived for.

King Anduin Wrynn sat on a throne far too large for his small frame, his legs not even reaching the ground. Despite his young age, he exuded the grace and dedication of a natural-born ruler, his blue eyes filled with an earnestness that belied his tender years that weren't yet worn with age. Flanking him were two figures, exuding authority. On one side stood a gruff older man with a stern expression, framed with brown hair and eyes that missed nothing in the room. Clad in full plate armor, he appeared vigilant. He guarded the boy with the dedication of a watchdog, ready to jump into action the moment someone threatened the King, blade in hand.

On the other side stood a striking woman with raven-black hair cascading down her back, a veritable super-model. She wore an elegant dress that accentuated her seemingly unnaturally perfect beauty, her face devoid of any imperfections, a bit too symmetrical to be human. Ainz's sharp eyes caught the subtle clues, he couldn't help but make the connection. 'If not for the eyes, she would be rather similar to Buku… that is a visage. She isn't human!'

{ That woman is using a visage, the same as us. Another player, perhaps. } He warned Buku.

{ I figured... Let's see where this goes first. We can't jump the gun and clear the palace on suspicion alone. Perhaps she has her reasons for doing so; being powerful does mean having a lot of enemies after all. } Buku replied as she and Ainz knelt before the young King and his closest subordinates.

"As the rightful King of the Kingdom of Stormwind, I thank you for your service. Please accept my gratitude," King Anduin spoke with surprising steadiness, his high-pitched voice not wavering one bit as his voice echoed through the hall.

"We were happy to be of service, Your Majesty," Ainz replied, his voice deep and respectful, practically stereotypical of those with his appearance in his first life.

"Indeed you two have done a great job. I will handle the reward, if you don't mind, Your Majesty." The suspicious woman addressed the king. The gruff man shot her a distrustful look, glaring, but glanced at the child for more information.

"Please do, Katrana" The boy nodded in agreement, his youthful face solemn.

Ainz and Buku exchanged a quick glance, both aware that this encounter held many more layers than what appeared on the surface. The elegant woman's intentions for taking over the awarding ceremony were unclear, and the protective knight's suspicion suggested a deeper intrigue within the palace walls. Politics, perhaps? Or something more?

"Follow me." The woman ordered, her tone brooking no dissent as she led them through one of the numerous doors surrounding the throne room.

As they walked through a spacious, well-lit hall adorned with tapestries and gleaming suits of armor, the woman started the conversation, "Your names were Ainz Ooal Gown and Buku Ooal Gown, if I'm not mistaken."

"Correct," Ainz confirmed, his deep voice resonating through the hallway.

"Katrana Prestor, charmed I'm sure," she introduced herself, her words dripping with a smooth, calculated superiority. "Would you mind explaining how you managed to kill over four hundred hardened criminals in one hour?" she continued, seemingly interested.

"They were unskilled brutes, there isn't much to explain. What are your intentions with us?" Buku questioned, her tone sharp and direct.

Katrana stopped in her tracks abruptly, and turned, her eyes glaring at Buku as if challenging her, "No taste for manners, I see."

"That is a valid question," Ainz interjected smoothly, "We helped the Kingdom of Stormwind out of our goodwill and are not interested in being dragged into whatever political machinations are going on here," Ainz added, betting on the fact that this woman likely wouldn't want to drop her disguise and go into an all-out fight.

"Political machinations?" she echoed, her voice silky but with an edge of steel. "Forgive me for my… uptight demeanor. You misunderstand me, I merely wish to understand the scope of your capabilities. As the King's advisor, I must keep up my appearances and know what goes on within the domain. But I'm sure you understand my curiosity. If two such capable individuals as you would be coerced by the Kingdom's enemies, we would have a real problem on our hands." Katrana replied, her lips curling into a faint smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, which remained cold and calculating.

"We have no intention of getting involved in politics. Rest assured, we won't join anyone," Ainz declared. The situation was tense, and angering this woman was unwise, but at the same time, he had no intention of bending his knee and becoming a pawn in her wiley schemes. He didn't even want to be here in the first place.

"And what are your intentions, then?" Katrana resumed her walk, her gown flowing like liquid silk as she waved for them to follow through the hallway.

"Travel the world for a while and then settle somewhere and help the people of the Alliance," Buku answered, mirroring Katrana's faint smile with one of her own.

"In that case, you'll find the reward suitable." Katrana led them into a spacious office room and unlocked a heavy metal chest with various decorative carvings with a delicate-looking key. She took out a silk bag, relocked the chest, and handed the bag to Ainz.

The room itself screamed opulence and indulgence from every square centimeter of surface area. The furniture was decorated with gold and precious gems from the lowest stool to the highest chandelier, gleaming in the soft light. The floor was covered with a rug woven with complex, glittering designs and the walls were covered with paintings that had probably taken months for talented artists to complete, works of a lifetime each. The air was thick with the scent of polished wood with faint hints of incense, a subtle reminder of the wealth and power that surrounded them.

Ainz accepted the bag and slowly untied the silk thread. Inside, he found at least a hundred gleaming gold coins, each one a small fortune, eliminating the need to use Yggdrasil coins for a while wherever they were accepted.

"A rather generous reward," Ainz commented, a hint of surprise in his voice. He had half-expected this woman to attempt to not pay them at all, but the opposite turned out to be the case.

Katrana's eyes flickered with something unreadable as she watched him and his wife, "Suitable payment for the feat, I believe. There is a request I want to make. Let's not pretend that you two are not mercenaries, mainly driven by money." she paused, crossing her arms. "If you are offered to join any faction, I want you to contact me first. I will at least match the offer and likely increase it. Consider the token a reminder that the Alliance, and me in particular, look after those who serve well."

"We can agree to such terms," Ainz replied. He could swear he saw Katrana's eyes change for a fraction of a second, turning golden and catlike, before reverting to the human-like ones she had before.

"Excellent. You have earned a chance to take a proper rest and," she wrinkled her nose, "freshen up!"

"Not our fault we were dragged in here right after the battle," Buku muttered defensively, sniffing herself discreetly.

"The Warden has no tact. I am well aware of that fact. That man has no regard for etiquette or the state of the castle' rugs." Katrana scoffed. "In either case, I will notify the city guards of your exalted status so you are not going to be bothered by the commoners."

"Thank you." Ainz bowed and Buku followed his lead, sniffing her sleeve again as she did so.

"On your way now." Katrana motioned for them to leave.

Not wanting to be in the company of more uptight nobles, both were out of the royal castle in mere minutes, power-walking all the way.

"I need a bath. That bitch…" Buku grumbled as they strode through the bustling streets of Stormwind.

Ainz glanced at Buku, who was still fuming. { She was poking to see how we would react. } he instantly switched to messaging. Discussing Katrana out in public would be unwise, as it was very likely that she had eyes and ears everywhere in the city, but they had yet to see any evidence that suggested the woman could read minds.

{ No shit. She was clearly not happy we dealt with the prison problem. Maybe she's the one who initiated it in the first place. She is dangerous. My instincts were all in alarm mode near her. } Buku speculated.

{ You probably weren't the only one who thinks that. It seemed that the other advisor was trying to shield the King from her. } Ainz recalled a peculiar detail of their encounter.

{ The buff guy in armor! For sure. What concerns me is that that bitch has the King's ear so she can tell him whatever she wants about us. For all we know, there might be assassins after us now for rejecting her initial offer. } Buku glanced around eyeing every passerby with suspicion.

{ It's possible, but I don't see what she would gain from it. If she is indeed a player in disguise, she likely already controls the entire nation, so it would be illogical to sabotage it from within. Although there might be more players involved and we got in the middle of their power play by accident. However, it would be beneficial to find out what relationship the two advisors have. } Ainz offered his thoughts on the matter.

{ That sucks. By the way, Ainz, it kinda dawned on me that your manner of speech has gotten more sophisticated. You use a lot of words you didn't use before… Am I doing the same without noticing it? } Buku came to a sudden realization.

{ Do I? I haven't noticed. } Ainz replied, genuinely surprised. 'Has my speech truly become more sophisticated? Contemplations on this topic… yup! I am using words I didn't even know before.' Ainz quickly concluded that Buku was right. He hadn't noticed any change in her speech, since she was the smarter and more educated one, even before they were transported into this new world, but he had definitely changed.

{ I'm not complaining. I love that my man is smart. Still, what do we do now? } Buku asked as she moved to hold his hand.

{ Let's rest for today and decide tomorrow. We could tour the city before resuming our travel. } Ainz suggested.

{ Great idea. I wonder if we can get the double-sized bath. } Buku enthusiastically nodded as they headed towards an inn.

<X>

Katrana paced around her office, her face twisted into a snarl. The pair of meddling adventurers had disrupted her carefully laid plans. Months of careful planning, now all for nothing. It took all her willpower not to revert to her true form, that of a black dragon, and devour those two pests on the spot for daring to break her plans with such insolence. But such an action would have blown her cover and she couldn't afford that, not for now. She still had other plans laid out, and she would need more to handle the two troublemakers.

She also felt something amiss about the two. They weren't humans; their disguises were too perfect, and their abilities too extraordinary, for mere humans. That would explain how they cleared the prison with such ease. Even in her visage form, she possessed the strength of a hundred men and the resilience to withstand mighty sword blows with relative ease, a testament to her true nature. As the brood mother of the black dragonflight, she had been a force to be reckoned with for millennia, capable of crushing armies with ease.

Her mind drifted to her father, who had succumbed to madness. The molten lava burning within his form, rendered him incapable of breeding with his consorts, permanently disfiguring her mother during their last attempt at producing offspring. It fell upon her and her brother to take charge, and she embraced it with a fierce love for power.

'Buku and Ainz, what are you? One of the flights? No, no Dragonflight I know would act like this. My brother's sick joke? Unlikely. I need more information.' She thought, her mind racing with possibilities of who could be interfering with her plans. She stopped her pacing and pressed a concealed button under her ornate office desk, summoning the kingdom's spymaster to her office.

Mathias Shaw, the head of Stormwind Intelligence, better known as SI:7, arrived ten minutes later. His arrival was prompt, as always, his demeanor exuding a blend of professionalism and suspicion due to his job. The man was in his early forties, with short brown hair, a mustache, and a goatee of the same color, his green eyes sharp and calculating. He was clad in a rather unassuming-looking set of leather armor, way too plain for a man of his stature.

Katrana activated the dragon eye amulet hidden beneath her dress, a powerful artifact that allowed her to control and manipulate the thoughts of others she targeted. Its magic ensured that Shaw's inherent paranoia, which he had honed into an art form, would never unmask her true identity. Without this artifact, he would have figured her out a long time ago and moved against her.

"You called, Lady Prestor?" The Spymaster took a quick bow before leaning casually against the ornate wall, arms crossed.

"Our new heroes, what do you know about them?" She questioned impatiently.

"They have done nothing suspicious, but I am convinced they use some sort of hidden communication method. They do not discuss anything of importance out loud, only small talk. My agent has been shadowing them from the moment they entered the city," he reported.

The reports from the field agent indicated that they grew silent the moment they were to discuss anything of importance like the meeting with Prestor. To reach such a conclusion was rather obvious, even if magic specialists couldn't explain how such a spell would work. In truth, this one speculation had set the SI:7 magic department into a frenzy as they tried to replicate such a spell. The implications of such a spell would shake what they knew of magic to its core, and permanently change logistics and intelligence gathering forever. There was no denying that silent communication would help tremendously in his line of work.

"Then improve your methods!" She hissed, her eyes flashing with barely contained fury. "They might be a security risk and you know nothing?

Should I replace you with someone more… competent?" She added threateningly.

"Throwing a fit won't change the results. I have eyes on them, if they are a threat to the kingdom's security, they will slip up sooner or later. So far, no foreign agent has attempted to approach them." Shaw retorted, showing no care for her status or mood. His defiance was palpable, a rare display of boldness in the face of her authority. He was perhaps the only person who dared to do so in the entire kingdom besides the king's other advisor, to defy the kingdom's most powerful woman.

The Regent Lord Bovlar already suspected that Katrana was behind numerous criminal activities that had sprung up over the past few years ever since she had attained power. Although nothing had been proven yet, in case she tried to temper with the SI:7, Bolvar would put his foot down and openly thwart her attempts. And she knew that too.

Katrana glared at the mortal man who was foolish enough to stand up to her, imagining him as nothing more but a pile of ash. Her fingers itched to crush him, but she restrained herself from doing so. "I want a report by tomorrow. You already failed to notice their arrival in the kingdom."

"Teleportation magic. Ainz is a mage, isn't he? So here is your answer to how they showed up under our noses. Prestor, why did you call me in? I don't exactly answer to you." Shaw defied her even more, his eyes challenging her with an intense gaze. He answered directly to the king after all, she had just been abusing her connection to royalty to summon him.

"You will continue reporting to me. I need to be informed of all that is going on to properly advise the King. You don't expect that dullard Bolvar to see the point in having SI:7, do you?" She activated the dragon eye amulet, amplifying her message in the man's mind, ensuring he felt the full weight of her command.

'All he can offer is pointless speculation. This fool is of no use to me. Perhaps I should replace him with one of my children.' She thought, her mind weighing the possible repercussions of doing so. It would temporarily cripple the intelligence network, but in the long term it could be worth it ….

"You will get reports daily. Bolvar is indeed dismissive of the spy network." Shaw instantly agreed.

"Good. You are dismissed," She ordered, her voice dripping with disdain as she callously waved for the irritating mortal to leave.

As Shaw exited the room, Katrana's thoughts returned to the matter at hand. The amulet's influence ensured that Shaw remained useful, but she knew she couldn't rely on him indefinitely. She needed to understand the true nature of Ainz and Buku, fast. The duo's presence posed a threat she couldn't ignore. Her slender fingers brushed the cool surface of the Dragon Eye Amulet as it pulsed faintly, its power a reminder of her might and the lengths she was willing to go to secure her plans.

Left in silence, she felt a familiar presence. The dark presence behind her mind resumed its maddening whispers.

'New and unseen. They open many gates. You will drown. Your heart, torn apart. Your life snuffed. Traitor. You will cower in their wake. Their hearts are empty.' The whispers of the Old Gods never left her mind. Telling of futures, screaming to break out of the prison and remake Azeroth into what it was before the Titans came.

It was her father, Naltharion, better known as Deathwing, the aspect of the black dragonflight, who fell to this corrupting influence and infected all his offspring. And she, in turn, did the same to her children.

By the will of the Old Gods, she schemed; by the will of N'Zoth, she worked to end the current world and bring upon the hour of twilight. In that dark future, the Old Gods would break free and rule the world once again as they had in the past.

Katrana listened to the whispers, trying to make sense of them. The vision of her drowning often entered her mind as a grim reminder that she could meet her end in such an unrefined manner. She, one deserving of the title of Queen, could end up dying like an insignificant animal. Impossible. Then again, the dark one had shown her countless ways she could die over the millennia, and most of his whispers were nothing but possible outcomes should she become too careless.

Resolute, she straightened her shoulders and steeled her mind against the dark whispers. She was the broodmother of the black dragonflight, the chosen of N'Zoth. She would not falter. With a final glance at the amulet, she turned her attention back to the task at hand, her mind was already plotting the next move.

<X>

Bolvar Fordragon glanced up from his office table as Shaw entered the room without knocking; there was a mutual understanding between them to do everything to keep Stormwind together while they searched for King Varian Wrynn.

"The snake is most certainly using some sort of artifact, I caught her altering my thought process," Shaw remarked as he closed the door and leaned against it.

"Are you sure? I cannot act without proof. You know how much backing she has among the nobles." Bolvar leaned back in his chair, a slight clunk coming from his plate armor.

Despite having the authority to remove Lady Katrana Prestor from the position of an advisor as the Regent Lord of Stormwind, he lacked the much-needed political backing, and unless he wanted a civil war that would paralyze the already thinly spread Stromwind armies, his hands were tied.

"Did she pay the two heroes a proper amount for their services?" Bolvar asked, his brows furrowing.

"I couldn't get the exact sum, but Prestor paid them at least a hundred gold coins." Shaw sighed. It was clear that the Lord Regent would not act upon suspicion alone and as tempted as he was to use the Stormwind Assassin's Guild to eliminate her, Prestor had at least a few of her agents well hidden within the organization and could use such actions against him.

"Then there is nothing we can do at the moment," Bovar admitted with a defeated sigh.

'We both know Prestor had a stake in the riots.' Shaw aired for a few moments before continuing. "I could not find any information on Ainz Ooal Gown and Buku Ooal Gown prior to their appearance in Northshire."

"Mathias… give me your opinion. What are we dealing with?" Bolvar asked.

"Honestly, I have no idea. People who can kill hundreds of criminals in an hour, or shower an entire valley in the holy light, just don't drop from trees. They have some hidden agenda, but I see no reason to believe Prestor has any prior connection to them, if anything, they appeared as her foil. I already sent an agent to check if the dark portal hasn't become active, as it is my only theory at the moment on from where they could have come." Shaw explained.

His only legitimate guess was that the pair came from the dark portal which was supposed to be inactive. Once it was the gate to another world from whom the orcish horde staged the invasion of Azeroth, but it was closed down and has laid dormant for two decades.

"As if the kingdom didn't have enough problems. Keep me updated."

"I will, Lord Regent." Shaw nodded and left the room.

Bolvar stood up, clenching his hands into fists. Things were getting more complicated by the day, and he was the last bulwark protecting the crown against the numerous hostile forces, both foreign and internal… And yet he had to persevere. Young King Anduin was his charge, and the boy was not ready to face the world yet.

Editing by NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by aidan_lo, IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, miraculous-trash, fvvck, Malguis, Ainz-sama, and I AM THE STRING CUTTER.

Link my discord server (https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2)

Chapter 13: Volume 1 - Chapter 13

Chapter 13

At first, the guards of the high-end inn didn't want to let them in, until a passing armed city guard, clad in his polished and distinctly decorated armor, explained that Ainz and Buku had been granted exalted status by the crown that the inn's guards reluctantly stepped aside. With a curt nod, they allowed the pair entry, knowing when to step aside.

Just like on Earth, the difference between the establishments for the common people and the elite rich was like night and day. The inn, an architectural marvel of opulence and grandeur even from the outside, boasted only four rentable rooms, as large as entire other inns. Each room, however, was a sanctuary of luxury, featuring a king-sized bed with intricately embroidered silk sheets, a lavish bath area adorned with porcelain fixtures, and the service of private attendants who moved with a grace and efficiency that spoke of rigorous training.

The food was on an entirely different level compared to everything else they'd had before by every metric possible. He and Buku had room service with a sumptuous three-course meal, starting with a fragrant, herb-infused soup that tantalized the taste buds, the main course, a succulent roast meat collection paired with the freshest of vegetables, and the dessert, a delicate pastry that balanced sweetness with a hint of tartness, left them both in a state of blissful satisfaction, Buku in particular as she even went for seconds on the dessert.

The room itself was spacious and furnished with the finest the city could offer from top to bottom. The bed sheets, made out of the finest silk felt like whispers against the skin. Several tables, carved out of the hardest of oaks, stood as sturdy works of art, their surfaces polished to a mirror-like finish. The walls were decorated with artwork depicting notable figures of the nation's past, their visages captured in vivid strokes that seemed to bring history to veritable life. And all this extravagance was theirs for the price of two and a half gold coins per night, a relatively cheap affair considering how easy it had been to gather coinage.

Unfortunately, the bath wasn't big enough for the two of them at once, so Ainz had to settle on a quick wash, knowing that Buku would embrace her inner connection with the primordial oceanic ancestors of humanity and soak in the scalding waters until her skin started to peel off. Ainz, of course, also enjoyed baths, but he could pass the opportunity for now. His thoughts turned to the possibility of making this inn a more permanent residence, imagining a suite with at least two baths, one would be large enough for two, or at the bare minimum making something similar elsewhere using this place as inspiration.

Despite the luxury and comfort that surrounded him, the feeling of being followed had only intensified after the meeting with the suspicious noblewoman by leaps and bounds. With a lot of free time on his hands, Ainz decided to address the problem head-on. He glanced towards the bathroom, where Buku was sitting in the bath with a reddish cocktail in her hands, happily humming tunes from her favorite anime without a care in the world, and he was determined to let her rest and enjoy life a bit. Her skill set wasn't particularly useful in catching a spy anyway, so he took it upon himself to investigate the cause.

The first step was to determine a suitable detection method, considering what his opponents could do. Ainz had a few high-tier spells at his disposal to detect hidden presences, but there was a risk he would put the city on high alert if he tried to use them since any player-run base worth their investment had detection methods for such things. Of course, he had the option to use [Perfect Unknowable] on Buku and himself, allowing them to covertly leave the city if things went south. But such drastic actions were better kept as a last resort, especially considering the possibility that Katrana was a player and might have countermeasures in place for spells of that nature as well.

Thus, he sat down in a plush armchair, the rich fabric cool against his skin, and began to mentally sift through his extensive repertoire of spells, seeking the best solution for this particular problem. His mind was a well-organized library, each spell and summon cataloged meticulously to be identified and used with maximum ease. One of the first things he noted was that some spells and summons had changed a lot since their arrival in this world compared to their in-game counterparts, on top of the completely new ones he had noticed before.

One of the most striking changes was the liches. They had evolved from low- to high-tier summons and could now rival his strongest summons if he used enough mana, making them now a viable form of combat and logistics on the battlefield. He was already aware that the Death Knights were different, but there was more nuance to it than he had noticed before. He had summoned one of two available types; the first was the rune blade-wielding unholy knight type, and the second was a caster similar to an elder lich from Yggdrasil. Each type brought unique strengths to his arsenal, adding layers of strategic depth to his command as quasi-autonomous forces.

As he went on, Ainz stumbled upon a particularly intriguing undead summon labeled as the Shade. This was an incorporeal undead designed as a reconnaissance unit, making it not only hard to detect but also very effective at detecting other hidden entities, shifting through the shadows and darkness with ease. And the best? It was a low-tier summon, meaning Ainz could potentially create hundreds of them to serve as eyes and ears throughout the city, practically the perfect reconnaissance unit for him.

With a decision made, Ainz leaned back in the armchair, the leather creaking softly under his weight, mentally drawing up the spell for the summoning. There was no reason not to test this unit. He leaned forward and extended his arm, sensing the magical energy coalescing. A thick dark mist formed on the ground, swirling and rising, slowly taking shape. The mist solidified slowly, forming a floating figure with no lower body and thin, spindly arms, already bowing before him, albeit as best it could, considering it had no legs. Its face had a vaguely skeletal face. The moment it was fully formed, the creature became fully invisible, melding seamlessly with the shadows.

{ I serve and obey. } It declared in a ghastly tone that seemed to echo from the depths of the void into Ainz's mind.

{ Detect the spy. } Ainz ordered, solidifying the mental connection with the shade and using its spectral sight as his own.

And there it was, in the corner of the room, a crouching figure clad in a dark leather suit attempting to blend with the shadows. Though hiding behind a face mask and hood obscuring her features, Ainz discerned she was a short and petite human woman.

'And there you are!' he thought, his mind sharpening with predatory focus. 'You must have a thief skill set to be so hidden without any magic I can detect.'

Ainz knew he had to be careful. His target shifted around slightly, likely sensing that she was being observed, and began to move away from the hiding spot.

'Silent cast [ Maximize Magic: Slow. ]' Ainz intoned in his mind, casting the spell on the person. The effect was immediate. The spy could barely move at all. Her movements slowed to a pathetic crawl, her limbs moving as if through molasses, mere centimeters an hour. Her eyes widened in panic, and her breaths became audible as she struggled against the spell.

"You are not going anywhere," Ainz declared, lazily standing up, the cozy bathrobe he wore doing little to diminish his incredibly large stature. His presence filled the room, and despite the relaxed garment, he exuded an aura of authority and menace towards the spy.

Ainz approached the woman with measured steps, his gaze never leaving her. She tried to squirm away, her eyes darting around the room for an escape route, but the spell held her firmly in its grip. Reaching out with one large, powerful hand, Ainz grabbed her by the neck and effortlessly lifted her off the ground, holding her several feet in the air. Her feet dangled, and she gasped for breath, her eyes now filled with terror.

This massive power difference gave him a strange sense of satisfaction. To hold an adult human in one hand and exude such authority over it felt so natural, as if he was meant to intimidate, control, dominate. Ainz squeezed the slim neck a bit tighter sensing her throat closing up. The spy's life was in his hand, and one move, one flick of a finger or a tightening of the grip, could effortlessly end it.

No wonder so many of the guild members found much entertainment in crushing the weaker guilds founded by newbies, even if he himself didn't partake in that often. The sheer ability to do something thought impossible, to be the one with irrefutable power, felt … delightful.

Ainz observed her fruitless struggle, slowly loosening his grip to let her breathe again as he stared into her eyes. It was paramount to show this spy that he was in full control over her life, she lived by his whims. Seeing that she didn't attempt to talk first, he decided that he should start the interrogation.

"Now then, what do you have to say about your actions?" Ainz demanded, his voice a low, rumbling growl that sent shivers down the spine of the struggling woman. The woman's eyes darted frantically, but she remained silent, likely out of fear. His grip was firm, yet he exercised precise control, ensuring she could still breathe enough to speak, and thus should've.

"What?" Buku called out from behind the curtains, her voice carrying a note of curiosity and mild annoyance at being interrupted by her husband's voice carrying something else besides sweet nothings at this time.

"Caught a spy!" Ainz called back.

"W-wait. Let's be reasonable. Don't give me over to the guards. I won't try to steal from you ever again," the woman whimpered, her voice cracking under the pressure.

"Do you think your charade will work? Who are you working for? The Crown?" Ainz tightened his grip slightly just as Buku emerged from the bathing area with a hastily put-on robe, water dripping from her wet hair, creating small puddles on the floor.

"I am no spy, sir. My family… I needed money to pay the priest to heal my father!" the woman teared up, her voice trembling with desperation.

"Bravo. Someone with shit for brains would fall for it," Buku offered a mock clap, her expression one of amused contempt as she reached for a shirt. "You do know we'll get the truth out of you one way or another. It is up to you if you'll be returned to your owners in one piece or in a bucket."

"Killing me would be unwise," the woman's tone changed, becoming more assertive, though she was still trying to get out of Ainz's grip to no avail.

"If she's a spy, I doubt she will talk easily. But I think there might be a solution." Ainz stated matter of factly.

"Sure. It's not like she'll need that brain afterward. Although I personally would prefer death over being reduced to the mental state of a toddler." Buku played along, trying to make it sound as if Ainz's spells would destroy the spy's mind if used, a terrifying prospect.

The spy's eyes darted rapidly between Ainz and Buku, her pulse quickening, an indicator that she was starting to panic. "My employer would know you caused me harm and there would be consequences!" she blurted out, her voice laced with desperation.

"Your employer has already shown hostile intent by sending you after us," Ainz replied coolly, letting go of the spy and allowing her to fall to the ground with a thud.

The moment the spy hit the ground, she performed a swift leg sweep, her heavy boot connecting with Ainz's uncovered ankle with practiced ease. However, with his high-tier physical damage nullification active, he didn't even register her attack, standing still.

The spy let out a pained grunt and rolled aside, trying to regain footing as she shifted away. But before she could gain momentum, Ainz extended his arm and cast a spell, "[Dominate]."

The spy slumped to her knees, her eyes glazing over as her muscles went limp. Buku sighed, as if having foreseen her husband using the spell. Undead necromancers did need to get information somehow from NPCs in a way that wasn't torture after all.

"State your name." Ainz issued the first order, wanting to test how well the spell worked now. In theory, someone affected by the [Dominate] spell wouldn't be able to lie, but there was no guarantee that the spell still worked that way in this world considering the many changes his others had undergone.

"Liesel Notley," the spy responded, her monotonous tone dull and lifeless.

"Damn. This spell is too OP!" Buku exclaimed.

She walked over to Liesel and removed the woman's hood and mask, revealing short blonde hair. Liesel appeared to be around forty years old, with a large scar running over her left cheek marring her otherwise standard looks. The scar added a hardened, battle-worn aspect to her otherwise nondescript appearance, as if she had been in this business for a long time.

"There is no guarantee it works on everyone. Who sent you?" Ainz continued questioning, his tone unwavering.

"Mathias Shaw, the head of SI:7," Liesel responded without any resistance.

"Still, we likely need to kill her so she can't report back that you can use it," Buku commented coldly, sliding on her clothes.

"I will also alter her memories and make it look like she lost us somehow. What is SI:7?" Ainz inquired.

"Stormwind Intelligence, the seventh branch of government," replied Liesel mechanically.

"Well, that's no surprise. Why is SI:7 spying on us?" Buku probed further.

"Routine observation of unknown elements. May cause potential danger due to reported ability. Lady Katrana Prestor requested direct reports as of today."

"Makes sense. Safe to assume soon enough other nations might take an interest in us. Tell me everything you know about SI:7, Mathias Shaw, and Katrana Prestor." Ainz decided to extract as much information as possible before the window of memory alteration closed, moving quickly.

The further back in time the caster tried to alter memories, the more mana it required, so he estimated he could only change the last two hours or so. This meant the spy would report that she followed him and Buku to the inn, and then lost them, assuming he worked fast.

"Mathias Shaw is the leader of SI:7. All other data is classified. SI:7's primary duty is to ensure Stormwind's safety against all possible threats, both internal and external. Its headquarters are located in the old district. I am a senior field agent. My rank prevents me from knowing more. Katrana Prestor is the royal advisor of his Majesty, King Anduin Wrynn. The family line is traced back to the fallen kingdom of Alterac. Only known relative, father Daval Prestor, presumed missing in action." Liesel's answers were precise but didn't reveal anything of critical importance, but knowing where the intelligence headquarters was located was useful.

"So Katrana might not be a player. Perhaps her and her father's story is fabricated." Ainz mused.

"So they sent a grunt to keep tabs on us. I'm not sure if I'm relieved or insulted. What did you report back about us?" Buku questioned, her tone betraying a tinge of irritation.

"Movement through the city, conversations. Needed to retreat during Stockade cleanup. Listened to conversations afterwards. Self-report of Ainz Ooal Gown and Buku Ooal Gown deemed unreliable afterward." Liesel dutifully answered.

"That will be enough. Do not resist, [Alter Memory]." Ainz cast another spell and continued. "You will forget the last two hours. You will covertly walk out of the inn, drink this bottle of wine, and walk in a random direction for an hour. Delay magic [ Cancel Domination: One Hour ]." Ainz handed the spy a bottle after issuing the last set of orders, sitting back in his chair.

Liesel took the bottle, her movements mechanical and obedient, and departed the room silently.

"Don't you think just killing her would've been easier?" Buku asked after Liesel had departed, her brow furrowed in contemplation.

"It would have been, but for now, we aren't considered a hostile force. All I just did will signal that we do not want to be spied on, but won't harm Stormwind's agents if we don't have to," Ainz explained his reasoning.

"You think we'll be able to pretend to be friends with them?" Buku continued.

"At least we can try. If we start a nation and half of the world wants to kill us from the get-go, diplomacy might be difficult. At least this way we can establish that we are on equal grounds and thus aren't to be looked down upon as a neutral party," Ainz reasoned.

"I should read up on politics. Do you have any books on the topic in your inventory? I don't have any in mine."

"I have a few," Ainz replied, reaching into his inventory. He retrieved a small stack of books and handed them to Buku, who rang a bell for a maid.

"Looks like I'm back to school." Buku smiled. "Maybe I should get a schoolgirl uniform as well." She added with a cheeky smirk.

"I wouldn't complain if you had one." Ainz retorted, a rare note of humor in his voice.

Since Buku would be busy reading for a while, he decided to turn his attention to ensuring their safety. He decided to create more shades, utilizing their unique abilities to secure a perimeter around them to ensure no more spies tailing them but also to put tabs on notable figures in Stormwind around the city.

After creating about thirty, he sent five to SI:7 headquarters and five to Stormwind Royal Castle, hoping to gather valuable intelligence. However, as they approached their targets, the shades encountered powerful magical wards. He quickly found out both places were heavily warded against such intrusions and his incorporeal summons were rapidly destroyed, ceasing existence.

At least he now knew not to underestimate the competency of these governments. This critical information would be essential as they prepared to travel north the following day and try to reach the undead-controlled territories.

Editing by NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by aidan_lo, IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, miraculous-trash, fvvck, Malguis, Ainz-sama.

Link my discord server (https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2)

Chapter 14: Volume 1 - Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Traveling through the sprawling city of Stormwind took hours, albeit enjoyable hours. There were faster methods of travel than walking, like horses and flying creatures like Gryphons, but with finances and time both not being an issue, Ainz and Buku could act like tourists and savor the city's charm and nuances. After spending decades in a bleak, polluted world, spending time outside with a crystalline clear-blue sky and inhaling air as crisp and invigorating as a mountain breeze was an adventure on its own.

Ainz had ordered shades to form a perimeter around them and ensure no spies got too close. Yet, no prying eyes dared to approach, leaving the pair free to immerse themselves in the city's vibrant offerings. Today they sampled street food, casual clothing, and a lot of books across the city, wandering all over. In fact, the shopkeeper almost choked on his tea when they purchased over one hundred books on various topics, spending about forty gold on the massive purchase before shrieking to his assistant that they're getting a bonus after recommending the duo to purchase much of the pile.

The money pouch was getting lighter by the hour, but there surely would be methods to replenish it, including using Yggdrasil coins if necessary. It was easy to justify the book purchase as a lot were useful manuals and more up-to-date sources of political climate and geography, plus any spy worth their salt would have used their own intelligence networks instead of purchasing public, easily manipulatable materials, making them just seem like extra-interested tourists. As it turned out, there were a lot of scholars investigating the world and most of them were found in Ironforge, the city they planned to visit next.

The locals had spoken of the tram that connected Stormwind to Ironforge, an engineering marvel crafted by the ingenious dwarves and brilliant gnomes . How they achieved such a technological marvel, none could tell, but there was a chance Ainz and Buku would find out more at the other end of the trip. Such transportation methods also spoke loudly about the mutual trust between humans, dwarves, and gnomes, as it could be used to bypass the city defenses should one side decide to attack the other, even if it majorly boosted commerce and travel of information for all parties involved.

As the sun began its descent, casting a golden glow over the city, slowly but surely Ainz and Buku made their way toward the dwarven district, where the tram entrance awaited. What separated this part of the city from the rest was the heavy air and the thick, billowing smoke coming out of chimneys, polluting the air. Rows upon rows of blacksmithing forges roared with fiery intensity, engineering workshops and repair shops littering this district as metal, coal, and wood shuffled throughout.

"Almost reminds me of our old home," Ainz remarked, his eyes scanning the dwarven district with a mix of nostalgia and awe as he compared it to old Earth.

"There has to be a better way for technological advancement than this," Buku muttered, wrinkling her nose at the acrid air. "Imagine if magical energies powered these machines instead of regular fuels. Spells could be used to cleanse the air."

"And there is!" interrupted a voice, shrill as a chiming bell through the cacophony of the place. A figure, barely a meter tall man, emerged from one of the engineering shops, his graying green hair a wild, mossy bush. His blue overalls were covered in purple smudges of who knew what, and the goggles on his eyes periodically emitted blue sparkles. This incredibly short stature made both of them immediately reconsider what this individual's race was - gnome.

The gnomes were the shortest race among the alliance members, with adults only reaching eighty centimeters to a meter height and children barely half of that. This small race compensated for their physical shortcomings with unrivaled intellect and ingenuity and thus were regarded as some of the best craftsmen across the land.

Before the stunned pair could respond, the gnome continued with exuberance, his voice rising with uncontainable enthusiasm. "Icuzz Pipegear, engineer extraordinaire at your service!" he proclaimed, eagerly reaching his small hand up to shake theirs.

"I am working on a device that will solve the pollution problem! Behold, the blueprint of Depollutifier 6000! I originally started to work on this device to clean up Gnomeregan. I'm sure you have heard of the tragedy that befell my beloved home." Icuzz announced, his eyes sparkling with pride. He unrolled a blueprint as tall as himself, its width almost comically excessive for him to hold it properly as he just barely managed to present it.

"It's all great but what does it have to do with us?" Ainz asked, raising an eyebrow with a mix of curiosity and amusement. The blueprint sprawled before them was a dizzying array of lines and symbols. It looked like complete gibberish. Ainz suspected he wouldn't understand a thing even with translation glasses on, given how much jargon he knew could be used among those in a specialized field from his previous job.

"Sponsors! You see, to build such a device, I need wise investors like you. We will install this device in every home and workshop, making the air pristine and clear. Imagine the profits!" The gnome's eyes gleamed with the fervor of a visionary, his words tumbling out in an irresistible sales pitch.

{ Fifty, fifty the guy is a wackjob or he's trying to scam us. } Buku took a cautious step back from the gnome, her instincts prickling with doubt as her fingers shifted for her blades.

{ I know. Best if we just walk away. But if he has the means to build something like that and only needs funds, we might miss out. } Ainz commented. "That is all very interesting…"

"Come inside my shop. Let's discuss the details! I wouldn't want to leave sponsors in the dark about nitty-gritty details," the gnome urged, beckoning them to follow.

{ God! I hate FOMO, but you have a point. I just hope we can see through his bullshit. If he's just fucking with us he will regret it. We want to prevent this world from going to shit and you said gnomes can build all kinds of sci-fi stuff. } Buku reluctantly agreed.

To at least get more details, they followed the man inside, bending greatly to enter the store. The cramped space was filled with all sorts of gadgets that constantly blinked and whirred, some giving off light or sparkles, some buzzing and shaking, some others doing who knew what.

Behind the counter stood a gnome woman with a few streaks of white through her bright pink hair ruffling through a book. Her eyes widened as she broke into a smile. "Clients!"

What followed was practically straight out of a horror movie. Heads started popping up from everywhere: from behind the devices, from the door leading further in, from the stairs leading to the second floor.

"Clients!" "Clients!" "Clients!" They shouted over one another, crawling out of their hiding spaces like a swarm of cockroaches as they approached the trio.

"Kids! Behave, let your father handle it!" The woman behind the counter shouted. "Sorry for these little ones, they're always eager to show off their inventions. Gotta start 'em young, you see."

Buku took a closer look at the swarm of gnomes, peering downwards. All of them had either green or pink hair and similar faces, whether boy or girl. It was hard to tell how old they were since she had no knowledge of gnome life spans or development phases, but they were decently cute, "Oh, so this is a family business?"

"It is. You have to keep it in the family. But don't let me distract you any longer. Icuzz, show them what they need." The woman behind the counter ordered the older gnome man as she put away the book, likely the woman's husband.

"Ahm, yes. So currently, I only have a plan but with a small investment, I could perfect a prototype." Icuzz continued.

Ainz, ever the skeptic, pressed on, "How do you know it would work?"

Icuzz gestured to a humming machine by the small window, "We have a simpler version right here. As you may have noticed, it freshens up the air. It siphons away the stale and replaces it with something akin to a mountain breeze. Twelve people living in a cramped space tend to make the air heavy."

Buku curiously sniffed the air. The gnome was right, the air felt surprisingly fresh for an indoor space filled with all sorts of metallic junk and who knew what types of machinery. She inhaled deeply, a contented sigh escaping her lips, "Sold!"

Ainz, however, was not so easily swayed, pressing onwards, "What about the energy requirements? What is running this device?"

"This model runs on good old oil," the gnome replied, giving the device an affectionate slap that made it hum louder in response, like a contented cat. "But if resources permit, I want to also try using arcane cores."

"I see. These arcane cores run on magical energy I suppose. Wouldn't magic poisoning be a problem?" He asked a follow-up question, interested in how the gnome would continue. Perhaps it would be viable to invest in this family business to jumpstart the sanitation revolution, for the air at least.

"Magical poisoning…" Icuzz echoed, snatching the nearest notebook from the counter, he furiously scribbled down notes while mumbling calculations, "Power squared… over area… and time… leylines…" as if deciphering a complex spell, almost none of which Ainz understood.

Buku, meanwhile, was approached by one of the gnome girls with a large glass filled with a bright red liquid, in her hands. "Would you like a refreshing drink, miss?" she inquired, her eyes shining with friendly curiosity.

"Sure, what is it?" Buku replied, accepting the glass and peering into its depths, noting the somewhat artificial-looking color.

"Strawberry juice with sugar." The girl replied with a cheerful nod.

Buku took a cautious sip, bracing for an odd flavor. At worst, she would take a sip of something foul-tasting, albeit probably well-intentioned, so there was no need to worry too much. As weird as the gnome family looked, they didn't seem to be malicious. But as the juice touched her tongue, its sweetness bloomed like a sun-warmed strawberry plucked fresh from the vine, enticing her for more.

"Not bad," Buku admitted, savoring the drink's refreshing taste as she continued drinking.

"But it can be so much better. Behold, the Carbonator 3000!" The girl exclaimed with a similar flair to her father and pointed a weapon at the glass.

"W-wait!" Buku's eyes widened as a blue beam shot from the device, hitting the glass. The once-still reddish liquid began to fizz with bubbles, in all the familiar manner of the soft drinks Buku used to indulge in back on earth.

"Did you just carbonize the drink with a goddamn gun?" Buku raised her voice, a mix of disbelief and astonishment coloring her words as she lifted the solution for closer inspection.

"Yes ma'am! The best party gun you'll ever find, and it comes with these easy-to-change liquid carbon cartridges!" The girl declared, snapping to a proud salute, and then presented the device to Buku.

"Why… a gun?" She asked, staring down at the girl who was all smiles, clearly proud of her invention. Her thoughts raced: 'These people are lunatics - genius lunatics at that. I dread the day they figure out how to make nukes. They'll do something stupid like power vacuum cleaners with them and then sell to everyone.' Buku shuddered at the thought, imagining a world even worse than her previous. Nuclear bombs had already done enough.

"Because it's fun! One aim and BAM! The drink tastes better." The girl replied, completely ignoring Buku's incredulous stare as she confessed to using wartime weaponry for ludicrously silly recreational purposes.

"My husband and I plan to travel… I won't have much time to party. But best of luck selling… your wonderful invention." Buku offered a weak smile in return.

Seizing the opportunity, Buku moved closer to Ainz, who silently stood and waited for the gnome to finish his calculations.

{ Hundred gold says this race will destroy the world by accident one day. } Buku proposed with a wry, morbid bet.

{ I wouldn't be too surprised. But if they can fix the problems humans have on Earth then they should be receptive to being guided and controlled, therefore preventing the problem in the first place. } Ainz replied as he curiously watched Icuzz scribble notes on page after page.

{ Gathering them all will be a pain. } Buku remarked.

{ As I understand, there aren't that many left anymore. Most died a few years ago when their capital was invaded by some sort of subterranean species, meaning the few remaining are in tight-knit communities. } Ainz knew that the ingenious race had suffered heavy losses during the Third War and now the majority lived in Ironforge and Stormwind, scattered around in small groups.

There were sparse details on what had exactly happened to the gnome capital city Gnomeregan given that most had perished trying to escape it, but the palace was now too toxic to be inhabited by most species; the air itself rotting the skin and eroding the mind, with the remaining population of the city that somehow survived the destruction having turned into creatures called 'leper gnomes' that had lost any form of their previous intelligence and sanity.

{ What sort of death world have we ended up in? Then there's probably something nasty lurking in the ocean as well. } Buku remarked.

{ As far as I know, there was no mention of anything intelligent living in the ocean. There are various sea monsters though. }

"Arcane cores are safe to use, but I have another brilliant idea: a magical residue collector!" Icuzz announced just as their conversation finished.

"Let's keep things to one project at a time. How much would it cost to build a prototype air-cleaning device and how much money would it require?" Ainz inquired. For now, it was easy to play the role of an investor, but once a foothold was established, gnomes would likely require oversight considering their ambitions for more technology.

"About five gold should be more than enough, and if I can acquire all the materials, less than a month." The gnome fixed his goggles with a classic salesman smile.

"In that case, I will sponsor this invention, but I will ask for a written contract and exclusive rights on the device." Ainz offered, crafting a rather unscrupulous deal. He may have been a simple salaryman, but even a man like him knew a thing or two about bargains and how to twist them in his favor. With billions of gold in his inventory, using a few of them wasn't a big deal, especially since he and Buku had agreed they could spend it.

"Deal. You provide the money and I'll do the inventing. Best partnership there is." Icuzz extended his hand upwards for a handshake which Ainz accepted, shaking on it as Buku accepted another glass of fruit-flavored drinks from another child.

The crafty gnome quickly wrote a contract, which Ainz carefully read with the help of translation glasses. He didn't find any loopholes or hidden clauses, but he noted that the gnome had added a small salary fee of five silver per week, understandable given the need to feed his large family. Once both parties signed, Ainz covertly pulled out a handful of coins from his inventory and placed ten on the table, sliding it over.

"These are real gold, and you should have no trouble exchanging them for local currency. In the spirit of fairness, I added a few more in case you get an unfavorable rate and to cover wages for a while," Ainz explained.

Icuzz picked one up, fishing a small device from the front pocket of his overalls to scan the coin before replying a few moments later. "Yup, pure gold. Pleasure doing business, partner!"

"We'll be back in a month to check on your progress. I think we should go, otherwise we might miss the last tram to Ironforge," Buku urged. While it was true that they had little time left, she also wanted to escape the shop before other even more strange devices were pushed into her face.

To her relief, Ainz agreed, and they were on their way mere moments later, a few gold coins lighter. And now they knew Yggdrasil gold coins were confirmed to be able to be exchanged as pure gold, and they had no effective shortage of the stuff.

"Let's see if this investment pays off. He did seem eager to build the thing and likely knows how to do it." Ainz expressed his hopes for the gnome's success.

"Hopefully. If that part of the city is like this already, it's only a matter of time before we'll need protective suits and breathing masks again." Buku nodded in agreement, sighing.

<X>

"Are you sure taking money from those people was a good idea? I have a bad feeling about them," Fenke asked her husband when the human couple left the shop.

"Stop worrying, we finally have funds for the device. You know I want to show the little ones our home one day." Icuzz retorted as he safely put the coin away in the portable safe that was no larger than a regular wallet but could hold around a hundred kilos of gold within thanks to spatial magics.

This brilliant carrying device was invented by his cousin and he had the privilege to be one of the first testers. As far as gnome technology went, the vast majority of inventions didn't have widespread use since most were concerned with inventing things a lot more than finding proper avenues to spread their inventions through the world, but family had to be fed and bills had to be paid.

Fenke groaned and pulled a small cubelike device with a lightbulb on the top from under the counter and pushed it towards her husband. The bulb was rapidly flickering with a red light. "Illusion detector is off the charts. If the money wasn't fake then they most certainly were."

"Hmm… are you sure it's not just malfunctioning? I haven't seen it flicker like this." Icuzz remarked as he tapped the bulb their kids were watching, spectating their interaction silently and running their own devices while analyzing the air and the magical residue left behind.

"Pops I think I know why that tall man was worried about magic poisoning. Look, he radiates seventy times more energy than pure unprotected arcane core! That's more than I picked up in the arcanum conference during the demonstration." Their oldest son, Monbink, declared while swinging around a stick with a dial on the other end, a personal invention of his.

While most magic was easily detectable, the subtle traces of residue were a lot more hidden, only noticeable by special arcane triggers that picked up only the faintest of traces. Considering the dangers any new type of energy posed, each gnome inventor was tough in thoroughly testing everything before any sort of mass production was done.

"Will you all give it a rest? We have funds to live off for two months thanks to our investors." Icuzz shut down the concerns. "At worst, I'll just lose the rights to Depollutifier 6000."

Unscrupulous investors weren't a rarity, and that's why he had put the clause in the contract that Ainz would own rights to just one invention and, should their partnership fall apart, he could walk away without any problems whatsoever, and should the human try to strongarm him into a more unfavorable deal, the engineering guild would come to his help.

His current concern was thus to procure all the necessary materials to create the device, and that was all he would fixate on for now. A deal had to be upheld by both ends after all.

Edited by NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by aidan_lo, IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, Malguis, miraculous-trash, fvvck, Ainz-sama

Link my discord server (https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2)

Chapter 15: Volume 1 - Chapter 15

Chapter 15

The underground station dug up the memories of Tokyo's metro for both of them. The familiar scent of used metal and cheap electricity hung in the air, and the faint echoes of distant conversations reverberated off the lightly tiled walls. The ticket booth stood under the dim light, its worn surface a testament to countless travelers passing through on the daily. The tracks stretched into darkness, and the tram sat waiting in its tracks, a gleaming metal serpent ready to whisk its passengers away. The station wasn't bustling, unlike the frantic energy typical of rush hour they expected. It didn't seem this transportation was used to get to and from work by the working class. The world's passengers mainly consisted of adventurers, traveling salesmen, and officials; namely, those who had money to spare.

The tickets were rather pricey at two silver each way, considering the average salaries they knew of, but that was to be expected. The cost reflected the exclusive clientele it served, the upper class.

After a short wait in the line and then at the tram stop, they found themselves inside the metal contraption. It lacked any sort of walls or safety belts, an open design that whispered of thrilling, reckless freedom. Just two rows of seats facing each other, inviting both camaraderie and quiet contemplation.

{ This might be how they get rid of stupid people who decide to travel. } Buku mused, her eyes glancing around the sparse crowd with caution.

With them in the same wagon was a lone man dressed in priest's garb, a thick book cradled in his hands, his eyes scanning its pages with a serene focus. Opposite them sat an older dwarven couple, finely dressed. At least Buku thought the man was a dwarf, although he could also have been some strange hair elemental masquerading as one. His long gray hair and equally bushy beard concealed his face entirely, yet somehow this creature effortlessly drank from the mug that never left his hand, not for refills or otherwise. The barrel beside him, perched on the seat, refilled his mug with an almost magical efficiency. The older dwarven woman had nestled her head on the man's broad shoulder, dozing off even before the tram began to move, lightly snoring.

The dwarves, though two full heads shorter than Buku, matched Ainz in width. They gave the impression of a race both exceptionally strong and sturdy, akin to how they were portrayed in Earth media. Give the two some axes and they'd fit right into most fantasy.

{ If corporations on Earth could get away with something like this, they definitely would have made a metro like this, if only to save a few dollars. } Ainz commented, tucking Buku's hair carefully between her back and the seat to ensure it wouldn't catch on anything during the trip.

{ Thanks. } Buku replied, leaning over to plant a quick kiss on his cheek, her fingers intertwining with his as she gave his hand a gentle squeeze in response.

The tram lurched into motion, the rhythmic clatter of wheels against the tracks creating a symphony of clicking sounds punctuated by louder clunks when the wheels went over the welding lines on the tracks. While this mode of transportation didn't particularly give a sense of safety, it offered an exhilarating sense of adventure for the duo, who had never experienced resting while traveling with such freedom.

The monotonous descent deep underground gradually lulled them both into a tranquil state. Buku yawned occasionally, her eyelids growing heavy with time. Finally, the descent ended and the tram glided along smooth rails.

Buku began to nod off, taking her cue from the older dwarven woman, and rested her head on Ainz's shoulder. For him, however, sleep remained elusive. Even in his current visage form, he had found that he didn't feel the need to sleep as he once had. Yet, he cherished and still preferred to lay in bed at night, listening to his wife's soft breathing and the occasional sleepy murmur. The undead didn't need to sleep apparently.

Suddenly, the monotonous stone walls fell away, replaced by the dazzling transparency of a glass tube through which the tram traveled, surrounded by an endless expanse of water. Schools of fish swirled around, unbothered by the technological marvel slicing through their watery realm at speeds they could never reach.

Ainz gently nudged his wife, shaking her awake, { Look. }

Her surprised gasp was all the confirmation he needed of her excitement, a spectacular tableau of sea life dancing before their eyes.

Buku spun around, standing on her knees on the seat. { Hey, there's a sunken ship! And look at a giant sea creature with tentacles… like… like an octopus. }

Ainz turned his head to look, wrapping an arm firmly around her waist to keep her from falling off the tram as it jingled and bumped. Buku, meanwhile, continued to point at various wonders beyond the glass with childlike glee. They had once visited a small aquarium on Earth, an expensive outing given the state of their world, but there was simply no comparison to what they were seeing now. This vibrant, pristine blue sea, free of pollution and teeming with healthy marine life, was a sight to see. It was a glimpse of what Earth once was before it was ravaged by greed, robbing humanity of normal life and the planet of its health.

For two whole blissful hours, they enjoyed the sea scenery until the tram began its ascent back to the surface. Buku finally sat down, still excited from the sights they had witnessed as she rambled in Ainz's mind.

{ We'll have to take this ride again in the future. And can you imagine they're only charging two silver for it? } She gushed with enthusiasm.

{ Now you sound like Blue Planet. } Ainz remarked, drawing a comparison to the nature-loving guild member who had created the sixth floor with an accurate night sky. He had been an avid advocate for nature in their guild tomb, going so far as to spend obscene amounts of resources and time to convince others that they should have a floor for a non-polluted starry sky. He got his floor.

{ He would have loved this place. I wonder what happened to him. I think he was still playing when Itsuki and I left. } Her tone grew somber, her gaze distant as if shifting to memories of the past. { Do you think we owe them a chance to be here? Once we know how to bring my brother here, we could potentially find the rest. }

Ainz didn't really talk with Buku about the time he was left alone in the game and how everyone else had left, he didn't want to. She was well aware he had taken it hard and had chosen not to press him, preferring not to tear up old wounds.

'Do we owe them this chance? They left. Buku did too, but she was getting sick…' { I don't know… } Ainz replied honestly, without giving any detail.

{ Ainz… you can't just bottle up your feelings. I know you took it hard with everyone leaving you alone, if I knew at the time, I would've found time to… } Buku leaned closer, hugging him sideways, her warmth a gentle balm against the lingering ache in his core.

{ I… } He struggled for words, the weight of unspoken emotions pressing down, or better yet, he didn't really know what to say. { They left. They didn't care. I wanted them to come back to have something. But when we got together… I stopped caring about them. Just like they did about me. So I don't know If I owe them a chance or if I even care enough to bring them over. We will get Itsuki here and after that… I… }

{ Ainz, I don't care about most of them. Not one bit. Shiori sure, I would want to get her. I would try to get the rest of them for your sake, but honestly why bother? We can rebuild Nazarick as it was, but more guild members will only cause trouble. }

{ Shiori? } Ainz inquired.

{ She played Ankoro. We were good friends back then. I think she had a nervous breakdown and that's why she quit the game. }

{ Each of them has their own stories. I just don't know them. } Was it his undead nature that affected how much he cared about the former guild members or maybe resentment for not sharing such facts with him, perhaps some combination? He only knew about Buku's condition back then, and even that had eventually soured.

{ Maybe we should drop the topic until we can actually do something about it, but darling, please don't brood in silence if you have unresolved issues regarding the guild members. }

{ I don't think I have any left. I got over it a while ago. } Ainz assured her. Was it the truth? He couldn't tell. But he could only move forward from now on.

{ Okay, just don't keep everything to yourself. } Buku leaned in, resting her head on his shoulder again, offering silent comfort with her presence.

Their conversation died down, leaving only the monotonous sounds of the tram as a constant companion to the duo. The gentle clatter of wheels against tracks echoed in their minds, a soothing backdrop to their contemplation. It didn't take long for their trip to end as the tram glided into an identical station, equally dim and worn.

Ironforge itself loomed like a fortress, directly carved into the heart of a mountain, a testament to dwarven ingenuity but lacking the inviting charm of the sun-kissed sprawl of Stormwind. The cavernous halls of the underground city were shrouded in dark shadows and bathed in the dim and warm glow of forge fires, exuding an ancient and mysterious aura in contrast with a sprawling medieval city with bright blue skies and delightful bustle.

After a quick tour around the place, both decided that there wasn't much point in staying in this city for long as the only note-worthy place to see was the great forge itself - a heart of molten power throbbing at the city's core, complimented with the clang of hammer on anvil reverberating through the tunnels. Ainz exchanged about a hundred Yggdrasil coins for local currency and together with Buku went on another book shopping spree. Ironforge boasted a treasure trove of texts with all kinds of topics like history and geography unmatched by Stormwind, having long held texts due to its strong defenses. The aptly named Explorers' League seemed to be dedicated to history and archaeology and was a great source for the books purchased, eager to help out anyone interested in studying history.

The lodgings they saw were as austere as the city itself. The inn had small, stone-walled rooms furnished with stone beds, which Buku obviously used to her full advantage to the delight of Ainz. If the taverns of Ironforge lacked the charm of Stormwind, it made up for it in the warmth with its amber ales, meads sweet as summer honey, and friendlier company. Nearly every dwarf was ready to raise a mug in camaraderie and even buy them the local favorites to show off the brewing skills of the short and industrious race, especially of their favorite brews. Their laughter, hearty and infectious, filled the air from top to bottom. A chorus of voices constantly sang praises to the brews. Even small children could tell apart various ales and beers, their discerning tongues attuned to the artistry of fermented beverages from a young age.

It was only the next day's noon when they finally were ready to move on. And this time they took the fastest non-magical transport there was for the city: Gryphons. The price for such means of transportation was steep, costing several more silver coins per person, but it would take only a day to reach the Southshore, the city closest to the horde-controlled lands in the Eastern Kingdoms. These majestic flying creatures with the bodies of lions and wings of eagles were fitted with decorated harnesses, and the creatures were fed generous chunks of meat right before departure.

"Hold tight," the gruff and weathered dwarf rumbled, "And don't be tuggin' or kickin'. These beasties don't like it, see? They spin 'til you're dizzy," he explained as he saddled two of them on, his thick accent hard to understand. Buku, with a keen ear for accents honed by her voice acting career, noted the similarity between the dwarf's speech patterns to that of the Scottish people who sometimes played comedic roles in games she voiced.

"Anything else we should know?" She asked the bulky man who resembled a ball with a beard, the dwarf's bald head reflecting the dim light of the subterranean city with a pristine sheen.

The dwarf chuckled and produced two leather packs from seemingly within his beard, "Here are packs with dried meat. Feed them to the beasties when they make a screeching sound. They are well-trained and won't ask for treats right away. Don't try to guide them. They will take you right to the Menethil harbor in the northern wetlands. There, me cousin Tholfug will prepare you for the rest of the trip," he stroked the birdlike creature's neck and motioned for Buku and Ainz to get on, soothing the Gryphons.

As they climbed onto the backs of the Gryphons, the creatures eyed Ainz and Buku with a mix of curiosity and indifference, eyeing more their snack packs. Their bodies were sleek and muscular, a perfect blend of feline power and avian grace that Earth media could have never hoped to imitate. The Dwarf firmly strapped them to the saddles, the leather biting into their clothes, and attached the feeding packs as well.

With a final pat to the Gryphons' necks, the dwarf gave a hearty, "Off you go! Pleasant trip!"

The world tilted as the creature beneath Ainz launched itself into the air, its powerful wings beating against the cavernous walls as it soared. At first, Ainz held on for his dear life as the flying creature took off with great speed and navigated the cavernous terrain with near suicidal abandon. The sensation was both exhilarating and terrifying, like riding a rich person's wild roller coaster through a narrow, twisting tunnel.

{ This is awesome! I want one! } Buku squealed in his mind once again, showing how much more adventurous she was compared to him and his caution.

{ This is what I get for having a trophy wife. Now you want your own Gryphon. } Ainz shot back with a chuckle, finally getting a feel for the ride.

{ You surely lucked out, so don't complain when your lovely wife wants things. I know my man can afford it. } Her mental voice was a purr, a soft, teasing melody that danced through Ainz's mind as she reminded him of the age-old mantra; happy wife, happy life.

He couldn't help but chuckle in response, { Sure, I'll get you one if we survive the trip. } His response was a mix of jest and a hint of underlying concern as the Gryphon flew too close to a building, clipping the smooth stone surface with the tip of its right wing.

{ We are nearly unkillable and these babies know what they are doing. } Buku's bravado grew infectious.

His stress limits weren't tested for long, but a moment later they were out in the open, a beautiful snow-covered mountain range spreading in all directions. The air was impossibly fresh and so cold a human would have to cover his face with thick cloth just to not to get it frozen off.

He and Buku were dressed in thick winter coats at the suggestion of the Gryphon handler, so the biting cold was a non-issue, not that it could do any damage with his and Buku's resistances.

They flew over the mountains and watched the peaceful scenery, exchanging their appreciation for such intact nature. The scene soon shifted to marshy planes as they gradually descended to sea level. Marshlands stretched out as far as the eye could see, a vast, watery expanse teeming with wildlife. The air was thick and humid, filled with the musky aromas of swamps, decay, and moisture. Flocks of birds occasionally crossed their paths, massive alligators jumped out of the shallow waters grabbing whatever unfortunate prey had gotten too close to their hiding spots, and so much more caught their eyes.

Menethil harbor was but a short stop, where their Gryphons got swapped out for new, rested ones and they were on their way once more in no time. Now they were traveling over a sea with a coastline to their right, a constant reminder they were on the right path.

{ You know, unless we really need to hurry, I want to travel like this. I can't describe how good it feels to fly on the back of a Gryphon. } Buku commented as her transport did a loop around a small coastal city, ready to descend.

{ Then we'd likely need to get our own flying creatures. But let's not rush things and shop around for what is available. } Ainz replied. He wasn't against the idea inherently, but there was no doubt in his mind that owning flying creatures would require a lot of upkeep, in land, money, resources, time, and commitment.

{ Sure, who knows, maybe someone sells tamed dragons. Imagine us landing on the backs of such majestic creatures right in the middle of the city! }

{ Isn't that what villains do in anime? } Ainz asked.

{ I mean we're not planning to be the good guys anyway. An emperor and empress of a mighty nation can afford that sort of stunt. }

'It seems she has it all figured out. Oh well, we both like to put up an act so why not.' He mused as they landed. As their Gryphon began the descent towards a quaint coastal town, Ainz felt a sense of anticipation. Today they would stay in the local inn and tomorrow leave Alliance lands to see how the grass was on the other side. They had heard the Alliance's story, it was time to hear the Horde's.

Edited by NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading By aidan_lo, IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, miraculous-trash, fvvck, Malguis

Link my discord server (https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2)

Chapter 16: Volume 1 - Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Crossing the border wasn't as simple as just walking through a checkpoint. Both sides had practically created a frontline, a tense no-man's land, guarding the uneasy truce between the Horde and the Alliance. On one side, the disciplined ranks of the Alliance patrols marched with a sense of duty, while the Horde's many sentries maintained a watchful eye across the invisible divide.

Standing on a grassy hill that overlooked the tense standoff, Ainz and Buku surveyed the situation as the weight of their decision pressed down upon them. Disguised as humans, the Horde wouldn't likely let them in, and if they changed before leaving alliance lands, the border guards were likely to attack them.

"So what are we going to do?" Buku asked, her voice laced with curiosity.

Ainz, ever the strategist, considered their options. "I guess it's time to see how effective [Perfect Unknowable] is," he replied, referring to a high-level spell of the ninth tier designed to cloak one's presence.

"Does that one cancel sound as well? I don't remember much about stealth spells. Didn't see any point in them as a tank." Buku continued.

"Yes, it should," Ainz affirmed. "I think we can use [Fly] to get over the border altogether and land somewhere in Silverpine forest, which should also minimize our noise."

"Right, that was a thing. Umm, darling, how far and how fast can we fly with it? We might as well just fly directly over the lake and land near the capital… Undercity," Buku pulled out a map from her inventory and poured over the region they were in. According to the sparse descriptions, the undead-controlled lands were a gloomy place with dark forests and a lot of sickly or dying animals roaming around, which didn't sound like a place she wanted to hang around for long and take in the sights of nature. She had seen enough rotting on the streets of Earth.

"I… I feel I have enough mana to keep us in the air permanently. I'm not sure about the speed. I doubt we'll reach gryphon speeds." Ainz replied.

"Then how about we try it out, aim for this group of islands in the middle of the lake, and change our appearances there. After that, we can go directly to the Undercity and see how things are there," Buku suggested.

"We can do that." Ainz agreed, nodding as he cast both spells on his wife and himself, feeling the magic wash over him.

The big relief was that they could still see each other as the [Perfect Unknowable] enveloped them in a shimmering aura, a cloak of invisibility that erased all of their presences. Ainz cast [Fly] next and as the weight of their bodies lifted, he felt his feet depart from the ground as he levitated just above the soft grass swaying beneath him. The spells had worked!

{ Hey I can use my energy to fuel the spell. Let's see if I can gain any speed! } Buku announced with excitement, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she made a pose. She raised one hand in the air, akin to many flying superheroes from various media, as Ainz felt the magic within her rise.

{ Be… careful… } Ainz's warning echoed through their mental link, cautious as always. But Buku, fueled by curiosity and new possibilities, shot up in the sky like a bullet as her swift ascent propelled her faster than anticipated.

Buku's frightened screech echoed through a message in response.

{ Buku!? } Ainz's panic surged. He followed suit and shot upwards, trying to locate her.

{ Not a word! } Buku's defensiveness crackled {I'm still learning how to control my mana flow. } She added, her voice tinged with embarrassment as her vulnerability hung in the air, literally.

{ Are you, okay? } He asked, flying higher at an increased speed. Soon he spotted her, two kilometers above the ground, a tiny figure against the vast sky as she hovered in place.

{ Yes. I'm fine… } She extended her arm towards him as she glanced away.

Ainz understood her silent gesture, gently taking her hand and resuming their flight. While she still didn't have a good grasp on how to control flying, he would guide her. Considering their immense magical reserves and the different nature of how magic worked compared to the game, they could potentially reach supersonic speeds, but he preferred not to. Baby steps first, then walking, then knowing Buku she'd skip running and go straight for Olympic sprinting.

Their first stop was one of the small islands on the outer rim, which seemed somewhat inhabited and would still provide a remote location to switch up their visages. They gently landed on the soft, graying grass. The only life present was some sort of primitive amphibian creature that resembled frogs, with unblinking, bulbous eyes wide as their throats pulsed, emitting gargling croaks that filled the air. Guttural croaks echoed from crude wooden huts scattered along the shoreline, a stark contrast to the chattering of human villages.

Ainz was the first to shed his human guise, revealing his natural skeletal form in most of its glory. His pearl-white bones gleamed in the dappled sunlight, a stark contrast to the lush green-gray around them as he stood, stretching his non-existent muscles.

"The visage form is so restrictive. I feel like I just took off one of those high-collar shirts you made me wear at official events," Ainz commented, the ethereal flame in his empty eye sockets flaring up as he spoke. His voice was deep and kingly, each word articulated with a regal precision and possessing a majestic timbre that demanded attention and respect, befitting the high position he once held in-game.

Buku, her transformation still pending, hesitated, "I'm not going to my natural form… ever. Well, that is unless I can reshape the slime in the same form I have now," she declared.

Buku inspected his skeletal form with an unreadable expression, circling around him. She studied his bony frame, her fingers tracing the contours of his skull, lingering on the ivory ridges of his jaw.

Noticing her reaction, Ainz raised a non-existent eyebrow, "Buku?"

"I don't know why but your skeletal form… it looks as good as the visage, if not more for some reason," she admitted, her voice laced with sincerity. She rose on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on the white rows of teeth, giggling. "Still, I will insist you put the visage form in our private time."

Ainz, touched by her affection, responded in kind, "I probably would find your natural form just as beautiful as this one." He stroked her cheek with his skeletal arm in response. His bony fingers, surprisingly delicate, traced the outline of her porcelain-like face with care, in the exact same location she had with his.

"We may not find out any time soon. Though I have some ideas…" She replied, looking away with a sly smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "If we aren't human, we might as well go all out in bed and experiment."

"Oh?"

"Don't worry about it. Right, I should pick a form. I don't want to be a skeleton or a rotting corpse. Is there an undead form that lets me keep a similar look to what I have now?" Buku inquired, her eyes scanning the island that seemed to be bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, as if searching for inspiration of something that would fit with this decaying landscape.

"Hmm… I think one of the Pleiades maids was undead in the game… a Dullahan. Looked like a pale human but had a detachable head." Ainz tapped his pointy chin with his index finger, bones clacking against each other.

"Dullahan? Yeah, I can go with that." Buku fished out a choker from her inventory, its dark band gleaming as she fastened it around her neck. Her visage form shifted subtly, her skin taking on a pale complexion and her eyes gaining a bluish glow.

"Your eyes-" Ainz started, his tone intrigued.

"I thought this glow would feel natural. You know, like what that death knight you summoned had or you right now." She explained her choice.

"It does fit. Gives you a sort of exotic look," Ainz complimented her.

"I am happy you like this version of me darling." Buku giggled, a sound as light and airy as a breeze rustling through leaves to Ainz. "Though we should probably move. I don't want to remain outside after sunset."

"Then let's go." Ainz nodded in agreement. He took her hand, his bony fingers intertwined with her delicate hands, and flew up. The island, with its strange inhabitants and eerie beauty, was soon left behind as they soared into the twilight sky, quickly locating their destination.

The ruins of Lorderon's once-proud capital loomed before them, a testament to decay and desolation. The spectral city, in all its previous world-renown grandeur, had been reduced to a shattered husk of itself, its bones picked clean by time and war. They had arrived swiftly, their descent guided by the pull of destiny toward the city's heart - the Undercity. It was the sewers of this city where the Undercity was located, underneath the ruins of the past. Toppled walls, rubble-strewn streets, and crumbling buildings created a labyrinth of shadows for those unfamiliar with the place. There were no signs of life whatsoever. They landed not too far off the city entrance and approached it at a brisk pace, the sound of their footsteps swallowed by the eerie silence of the desolate ruins of mortals.

At the entrance stood two massive, misshapen guardians, their bodies - lumbering pieces of rotting flesh, eyeing the newcomers suspiciously. Their hollow eyes watched Ainz and Buku, but remained motionless. It was easy to see that there had been no effort to restore the above-ground ruins, leaving them to rot and crumble with time. There were little to no signs guiding their way, but they did stumble upon what seemed to be a metro-like entrance leading down.

The descent wasn't too long though, and soon enough they were greeted by a three-story round bustling area with more rotting undead moving around than Ainz could count. The air was thick with the scent of decay, thick enough that it was hazy with humidity. The one thing he immediately noticed was that he could feel their presences immediately, and that his natural overlord instincts needed to be held back to prevent the undead domination from activating against his will, which could alert the local authorities.

{ Ainz, I want to puke, the stench is… I'm considering removing my nose altogether. } Buku, less tolerant to the decay in the air, grabbed onto his humerus bone, scrunching and pinching her nose.

He tilted his skull, considering { Strange, the smell doesn't bother me, in fact, I find it strangely pleasant as if… you know… like home. } His words hung in the air between the duo.

After figuring out that they needed to reach the ground level to delve deeper into the city, they started to descend one of the spiraling staircases, slowly so as to avoid triggering defenses. The walls were slick with moisture and the dim glow of flickering torches cast eerie shadows that danced like phantoms to their untrained minds.

{ You are the love of my life, darling, but if you decide to live in this city we are switching to a long-distance relationship. } Buku glared up at him, her expression verging on torment.

{ You know I would never pick a place you don't like. Unfortunately, it is too late to move for today, so we'll have to find a place to stay. Using a gate here wouldn't be wise I think. }

The circular city was bisected by a half-repaired canal, its waters a sickly green, bubbling with ominous energy that looked too toxic to even be touched. Only holy light magic would be able to handle that sort of sludge.

{ This is going to suck so badly. Oh well, once we find a private room I am drowning myself in perfume. } Buku remarked. { Hey, are those guys following us? } She gave a subtle nod to her right. Her keen senses had detected a potential threat that had been tracking them for more than a few moments.

Ainz glanced over, noticing a group of heavily armored and well-armed zombies lumbering toward them, their gaunt faces hidden behind aged steel helmets. Their gait was slow but purposeful as they stared at the duo, their armor clinking with each step and their curved blades, curved like crescent moons, glinted ominously in the dim light, ready to strike at whatever stood in their way.

{ They're definitely after us, I just don't get why. } Ainz wondered, already going through various scenarios on what to do. { I doubt they found out you aren't undead. Even I have a hard time telling what you truly are in this form and I'm standing right next to you. } He mused, mentally preparing for a confrontation, his skeletal fingers twitching in anticipation as he reviewed some minimally flashy yet highly effective spells in his arsenal.

Buku, in turn, grasped her weapons, ready to fight as needed the moment the other undead made an attack. She wanted to test out her abilities against this world's undead anyways, to gauge how effective she was with and without holy light.

The leader of the zombie group, a particularly imposing figure with patches of rotting flesh visible through the gaps in his armor, halted their advance, his voice a guttural growl as he declared, "Halt, scourge scum!"

"I am sorry, you must be mistaken, we are not associated with this scourge." Ainz tried to keep a polite demeanor. If there was a chance to resolve these without a fight, he preferred to do so.

"We won't fall for your lies, lich! Men, be sure to destroy every piece of the lich and that pet of his!" The lead undead shouted as the group began surrounding them. The guards moved as one, their rusted armor clanking like a symphony of doom.

"Well, they're asking for it. Go on then, attack us, you rotten piece of shit! It will count as self-defense!" Buku taunted, ready to shield Ainz from the strikes. She didn't particularly believe these undead would be able to harm Ainz, but she wanted to be his shield anyway being the front liner she was.

Ainz contemplated using his power to dominate the group, but he knew that would likely destroy any chance of working with the Horde, even the smallest slivers. The best approach was to show overwhelming might and raise the killed guards once they realized they wouldn't be able to defeat him and Buku.

The lead undead lunged at him, aiming at the glowing red orb embedded in his chest. But as always, the high-tier physical damage nullification did its job and the blade harmlessly bounced off him, rebounding back toward its wielder.

Buku, no stranger to combat, slammed her shield into the rotting man, sending a flying kick at another. He soared over the sludge-filled canal, crashing against the city's ancient wall about twenty meters away, blade flying into the distance. The rest of the group, still undeterred, continued to attack in a coordinated manner, but similar to their now unmoving leader, they could do no damage against either.

In one swift motion, Ainz grabbed one of the attacking guards and lifted him by the neck, which had rapidly become his favorite move when dealing with weak enemies, his grip unyielding, "Your attacks do not work on me," he declared, voice echoing through the twisted streets. "Stand down, or I'll be forced to kill you." The undead guard struggled in his grasp, its eyes wide with the realization of his impotence against such a foe, attempting to slash with its blade uselessly instead, as if caring not for if it died.

"Ainz, another group is incoming. One feels stronger than the rest!" Buku's voice was sharp, tinged with urgency as she kicked away another one of the attackers, sending it sprawling across the ground.

After snapping his neck, Ainz tossed aside the undead guard he had been holding, his attention drawn to a new threat approaching rapidly, preparing his more powerful spells. A phalanx of undead elven women emerged from the shadows, their pale skin stretched taut over slim frames as they marched in unison. They moved with unnatural speed and grace, their bows already drawn and taut, ready to fire. There was a clear leader among them, having what probably was a legendary quality bow in her hands. Her form was lithe and predatory, her movements imbued with a feral grace and experience. She had an uncovered midsection and no armor around joints, meaning she prioritized mobility over protection. The leader had a similar grayish skin tone to Buku, her long ears peeking out from the hood and her eyes glowing blood red with rage.

"So Arthas was too much of a coward to come here himself and send one of his pet liches! I will send your heads back to that son of a nameless whore!" The elven woman spat, her voice a venomous hiss, echoing through the cavern. Her words were laced with contempt and hatred, already unwilling to compromise.

"We are not a part of any organization, nor had any hostile intention before we were attacked without provocation," Ainz stated calmly, flames in his eyes flaring up.

"Save your breath, Lich. Attack!" the leader's command rang out, sealing their fate.

The first volley of arrows whistled through the air, hurtling towards Ainz and Buku at incredible speeds. The leader's arrow was aimed directly at the red glowing orb in his chest, dead center. In an instant, Buku moved to shield him, her form absorbing the brunt of the assault. The arrow struck her with a force that would have killed a lesser being, bypassing the passive shield as Buku deflected it.

"You bitch, that would have hurt him!" Buku screamed, her voice echoing through the underground city, preparing an attack in hatred of her husband being in danger.

"Att-" The leader's order was cut short as her chest exploded into a gaping void, the result of a brilliant bolt of light Buku unleashed at her in response in an instant. Her body crumbled to the ground, half-destroyed. A floating, immaterial figure with hollow eyes that held only echoes of vengeance, its tattered robes clinging to its insubstantial form, and its limbs stretching like spider silk, reaching for the living, rose instead from within. A chorus of anguished whispers trailed in its wake, a blood-curdling scream which Ainz registered as a psychic attack, only reacting in time to throw up a barrier for himself.

Buku groaned in clear discomfort reacting to the attack, "That's fucking it! I am nuking this whole dump of a city with light. Ainz, shield yourself, this is going to hurt!" she roared.

A chilling anticipation filled the air as Buku prepared to unleash her devastating holy power, a cataclysmic force that would consume everything in its path, as far as the eye could see and then some. Ainz, his eyes ablaze with determination, braced himself for the impending storm, casting every barrier he could think of around himself. Her whole body started to glow with an intense, radiant light as the undead rangers desperately tried to pick up their leader's corpse and retreat, attempting to dash away. The group's leader slammed her incorporeal form back into her body and jumped to her feet as the hole within started to regenerate the graying undead flesh, growing back in place.

"Stop! You will kill everyone!" The leader screamed, her voice full of terror at the realization that Buku wasn't bluffing. The air was rapidly filling with holy energy, burning away the nearest undead all of whom ran away from the growing sphere as she continued to funnel more into her spells.

"We were willing to talk, but it seems it was in vain. A shame really." Ainz commented casually. His wife was about to change the political climate of the world, likely massively tipping the scales in the Alliance's favor, but the unreasonable undead had given her plenty of reasons to commit genocide.

"I apologize for this unprovoked attack, but your response is not appropriate! If you are not the servants of the Lich King as you claim, then let's parley and resolve the issue without killing my entire city!" the leader offered, her bow aimed right at Buku's head. One of her rangers dropped her cloak over the leader's shoulders to prevent indecent exposure that would happen the moment she returned to her former state before too drawing her bow.

"Now she wants to talk! Give me one goddamn reason why I shouldn't kill you all for attacking us!" Buku shouted back, her voice echoing through the underground city as golden wings sprouted from her back, each feather a blade of divine judgment. Holy energies continued to seep from her, filling the space with an aura of divine wrath that threatened to end all of their lives in an instant.

"You will kill tens of thousands!" The undead leader shouted back, her voice trembling but still standing strong. "I won't let you. This is my city and if you don't back down, you won't leave it alive!"

"Bold words! I remain unconvinced. If you could kill us, you would have done so already." Ainz called her bluff, his gaze locked with the undead elf.

"Bah! Perhaps it will be your death and the death of your beloved city that will teach the Horde not to mess with us!" Buku shrieked.

"This is my domain, I have the right to protect it!" the leader proclaimed with the intensity of a storm, "A lich just showing up at my doorstep warrants immediate action. To my knowledge, all of your kind serves the lich king, and I'll be damned if I let him take what is mine!" The undead leader continued to rant about this mythical leader of the scourge.

"And how often do scourge liches just walk into this city?"

"They do not! That doesn't mean the Lich King wouldn't employ new tricks! You must know that only the undead not serving the lich king are found in my domain and there is not a single lich among my subjects! My actions might have been rash. but they were completely warranted in this circumstance. Now are you willing to back down and talk, or should I order a suicidal last stand?" The elven woman demanded, determined to die fighting.

"Fair point. And now you are willing to talk without further provocations?" Ainz inquired, his tone smooth and unruffled, perpetually calm as if they were merely discussing the weather.

"Yes. I can see when I am at a disadvantage. You have my word that you won't be attacked if you stop now," the leader replied, her grudging admission hanging in the air like a reluctant truce.

"You would be Sylvanas Windrunner, the Banshee Queen, I presume?" Ainz asked. He put his hand on Buku's shoulder. "Let's at least hear her out."

Sylvanas lowered her bow, her spectral eyes narrowing, "Correct, and you are?"

"I am Ainz Ooal Gown," Ainz introduced himself, "and this is my wife Buku Ooal Gown."

"I will stop, but if you even look at us the wrong way, your city will become a new holy ground for the foreseeable future!" Buku's voice carried a fierce determination, though her words bore a tinge of sarcastic humor. She canceled her attack, the radiant glow around her gradually dimming like the setting sun.

A tense silence descended upon the cavern, broken only by the soft whisper of the underground river. "Very well. I declare your actions as self-defense and apologize for the rash actions of my city guard. Now would you be so kind as to tell me what exactly are you?" Sylvanas nodded at the cloaked undead elf beside her, the woman replying with a similar nod and executing rapid hand gestures toward the rest of the group.

All the archers dispersed, their presence melting away into the shadows, reappearing near the citizens who had watched the unfolding scene from a distance with a mix of awe and fear.

"My husband is a natural undead and I am of the monster race, one which I would rather not disclose. We travel the world to see where we want to settle and I'll tell you right now, your city is so low on the list that hell seems like a better option! What happens now?" Buku's words dripped with sarcasm, her arms crossed defiantly as she finally sheathed her sword and shield.

"I would like to invite you as my guests to discuss your plans. If you want to travel through Horde lands, some assurance may be needed." Sylvanas stated, her gaze sharp and distrustful of the duo.

"So," Buku retorted sarcastically, "you're telling me you're the queen of this sorry excuse for a city?" She glanced around at the rundown buildings and the grim, ghostly residents, exceedingly far from the prosperity she had seen in Stormwind.

Sylvanas, not bothered by Buku's sharp words, replied with steadfast determination in her eyes. "This city is a safe place, a refuge for those abandoned by life. It shows our strength and spirit."

Ainz, trying to keep the peace, stepped in. "We understand your situation, Sylvanas. But we need some respect. We're not here to cause trouble."

With a sigh, Buku gave in. "Fine, let's just get this over with."

{ Do we agree? } Buku sent a message to Ainz.

{ I think it's better if we do. I don't need to sleep, so she won't be able to ambush us. She is one of the horde leaders and it would benefit us if we left on friendly terms. } Ainz replied.

{ Ok, then take the lead. I will behave as long as nothing attacks us. } Buku once again held onto his humerus bone.

"We accept your offer. As long as no hostility is made towards us, we will respond in kind." Ainz agreed, his voice carrying the weight of a promise etched in stone as he finally depowered his barriers.

As they followed Sylvanas deeper into the city, Ainz couldn't help contemplating how the first interaction with Horde had started on a sour note, but this didn't mean it had to continue that way. Perhaps they could even curry some decent favor if it wasn't as scheming as the Alliance.

Edited by NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by aidan_lo, IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, fvvck, and Malguis

Link my discord server ( https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2 )

Chapter 17: Volume 1 - Chapter 17

Chapter 17

The royal quarters of the Undercity stood in stark contrast to the rest of the city's decayed and gloomy atmosphere, rivaling that of Stormwind in its own sense. Here, splendid elegance replaced depressive ruin; the air, instead of being heavy with the stench of decay, was infused with the subtle scent of blooming flowers. The first thing Ainz noted was that only the elven rangers were present, all of whom had next to no signs of degradation, and all shared smooth gray skin and red glowing eyes. No stench of rot was present, and the air was filled with pleasant flowery fragrances.

He could see the intense relief on Buku's face the moment the double door guardian of the sanctuary of the banshee Queen closed behind them, her expression softening and betraying a sense of calm that had been elusive since their arrival. Sylvanas walked in front of them with catlike grace, her fingers twitching slightly as if hinting at her readiness to jump into action at any moment. Which considering what had just happened was understandable.

"I will host you as long as you require and cover all your expenses, but in return, I want no trouble in my lands, understood?" Sylvanas began, her tone firm but courteous as she turned to face the duo.

"This is the first place we were attacked without provocation. I could always restart what I began earlier. Stormwind and Ironforge are much friendlier towards us, you know. I can't wait to leave this dump." Buku shot back, her words as sharp as daggers, showing no consideration for Sylvanas' authority.

Sylvanas stopped abruptly and sharply turned her head with a piercing gaze fixed on Buku, "I find it hard to believe that the alliance let you walk freely through their cities. They are not willing to talk with the undead, much less tolerate their presence in their lands… shapeshifting or illusions?"

"Don't get any ideas. We won't become the pawns of the horde," Buku replied curtly, avoiding the question with practiced ease.

Ainz observed quietly, aware that Buku's frustration was rooted in the earlier confrontation. The mere thought of Sylvanas's attack nearly forcing her to unleash her full power—and potentially harming Ainz—had left her greatly agitated. While he knew the damage to him would have been negligible, the idea that the Banshee Queen had come close to overcoming his defenses was an unsettling thought for the duo, who had so far been effectively invincible.

"We are all pawns to twists of fate. Sooner or later, you will pick a side, be it Alliance or Horde, to face the horrors of the scourge. Weak or strong, none can afford to be on their own in this damned world of ours." Sylvanas spoke philosophically, yet with a touch of melancholy, resuming her walk with a grace that belied the weight of her words. Her voice carried the bitterness of past betrayals and the resolve of someone who had faced the abyss and returned, of decades of experience of life. "I was once a hero of the Alliance, the ranger general of Quel'thalas. Till my last breath, I fought to stop Arthas, and for that, I was made into this… monstrosity. And for that, for my sacrifice for them to live, the Alliance rejected me… my own people. The Horde might be a better option for you."

"A fair point, but it will be us who decide where we stand should we get involved in any conflicts." Ainz shot down her subtle attempt at advertising her faction as the more honest one. Every politician was a scheming liar, no matter the cause.

Sylvanas nodded, accepting his deflection with a knowing smile. "I will arrange a meeting with the Warchief of the Horde, Thrall, for you. With his blessing, you would be able to travel all the lands of Horde without any restriction. But tell me, why are you traveling the world? Individuals like you must have a goal that affects us all. To wield such power, you no doubt have grand goals."

As she led them into a guest room, Ainz and Buku found themselves surrounded by a setting that seemed to belong to another world entirely, a stark contrast to the environment they had arrived from. Unlike the bare gray walls of the city, this room was painted in golden and red colors, catching the eye no matter where you looked. The furnishings exuded elegance, made with grace and artistry Ainz hadn't seen anywhere in the realm, including literal royal palaces.

"Why would we tell you our plans? All you leaders are the same, you want us to do your dirty work and keep our heads down." Buku retorted, still hostile towards the undead elf as she glared at her.

Sylvanas, to her credit, maintained a neutral demeanor, motioning for them to settle on the ornate sofas that seemed almost too fragile to withstand Ainz's massive frame. As she settled down, crossing her legs with an air of casual authority, another undead elf entered, carrying a dusty wine bottle and three clean glasses. Clad in the same ranger attire, her role was clearly that of a maid, yet she moved with the same eerie grace as her comrades.

"Please, make yourselves comfortable," Sylvanas invited, watching as the maid expertly poured the wine for the two who were sitting down.

"Your tongue is sharp for someone who can wield light. Surely you are not so naive to think you can walk everywhere with complete disregard for the powers that be. Such a curious case. Two individuals with such power yet you have no affiliations, no motives, and no plans. Such an anomaly cannot be ignored." Sylvanas' words cut through the air with a precision that matched her reputation as a city leader of the damned. She lifted her glass, observing the deep crimson of the wine as if it held the secrets of a world long lost. "Wine? This is a vintage from before the fall of Quel'thalas. I thought it fitting to share it with you. Not much of it remains as after the scourge invasion, the grapes do not grow in most of these lands anymore, making this bottle a relic of the past and in short supply."

The ranger offered glasses to Buku and Ainz who accepted them without hesitation, unconcerned about potential poisoning attempts. The aroma was rich and intoxicating, a fragrance that spoke of a time when life still flourished in these lands, splendid and brilliant.

Ainz buttoned up his robe and switched to a relatively pale undead visage, nonverbally answering Sylvana's question on how they could move through human lands unrestricted as he reached for a glass. He politely sampled the vintage, following Buku's example of proper mannerisms as she had taught him for the public events back when they still were humans. Any faux paus in manners could be passed off as them being foreigners to the land.

Sylvana's gaze never once left them as they drank, observing and analyzing every action and gesture. With force not being an option, all she could do was to use other methods to get a better understanding of the mysterious pair who was a step away from becoming one of the greatest adversaries for not only the forsaken but the Horde at large. With such power, they were bound to do great deeds, deeds she wanted in on.

"I get the curiosity that all of you have. Obviously, you would want to know who we are and what we want to do." Buku glanced at Ainz, seeking his guidance. Despite her personal feelings, she understood that befriending an influential Horde leader would be beneficial. She had done similar with bosses back on Earth. Her husband's logical and calculating nature made him better suited to decide on their general direction, while she supported him with her opinions for the finer details.

"Let's for now agree that we can be called upon to help with occasional internal problems and possible world-ending threats, for proper compensation, of course. But we will not agree to get involved in political conflicts. If this Scourge is as dangerous as all our sources imply, we will stand with you against it, but whether we fight for you will be determined then." Ainz proposed, offering a diplomatic solution that was vague enough to not be used against them in any legal manner. He knew a thing or two from his days of working jargon around the clock.

"Such terms are agreeable. I'll be sure to notify Warchief about your terms and I'm sure he will honor them. If there is one thing I can say about Thrall, he is a man of his word above all else." Sylvanas nodded in agreement, a hint of respect in her eyes. "For now, you can enjoy my hospitality until the next zeppelin departs for Kalimdor, unless you plan to use more direct transportation methods. But I would recommend you do not roam around undercity for now. You did kill a few of my death guards, and my subjects may not be all too happy to see you roaming freely."

Buku chuckled, her voice laced with sarcasm as she leaned back. "Oh, I'm sure they'll just love us now. Nothing says 'welcome' like a bit of unintentional guard slaying."

Sylvanas smirked, acknowledging the irony. "Indeed, your presence has certainly made an impression. I'll make sure to keep the rabble at bay."

"Since we have agreed to be on friendly terms, I can reanimate the guards and not assume any direct control over them." Ainz offered, his tone as polite as ever, though the weight of his power was unmistakable, given he was the husband of the holy-genocidal Buku.

The suggestion, however, was met with a visibly unpleasant reaction from Sylvanas. Her fingers twisted together, and her knuckles whitened, teeth grinding audibly as she processed the implication. It was as if a ghost from her past had whispered in her ear, stirring memories of chains she'd long since broken and threatening to bring them back.

"Is such an offer against local customs? My intent wasn't to offend." Ainz, ever the diplomat, was ready to withdraw the offer and wanted to clarify things just in case. Apparently he had stepped too far.

"If you are capable of such a feat, then by all means reanimate them." Sylvanas stood, her voice steady, yet her eyes betrayed a mixture of intrigue and fear towards the undead skeleton. She signaled subtly to the ranger serving as a maid, motioning for her to leave. Her thoughts swirled, 'This monster is no different than the Lich King, yet plays this charade of diplomacy. What is his game?' She was intrigued and terrified of the pair at the same time. Such allies would help her get the long-desired revenge on the monster that took everything from her, but at the same time, what if Ainz could just take over her will and make her a slave just like Lich King once had? She'd just be exchanging one master for another.

The fallen death guards were quickly brought into her quarters minutes later and laid before Ainz. With a wave of his hand, he reanimated them, a faint glow enveloping their bodies as life - or something like it - returned to their hollow forms, empowered once more. Sylvanas watched closely, her senses sharp, searching for any sign of control left within. Yet there was nothing, only the absence of domination, but that meant nothing in the face of advanced necromantic magics of which she had little knowledge of. She could only hope that the two loyal men had enough willpower to resist Ainz, should he try to control them in a betrayal.

<X>

With Ainz and Buku retreating to the guest room she had assigned to them, Sylvanas began composing her letter to Thrall. Though she and the Warchief of the horde weren't on the best of terms, they maintained a relationship built on mutual courtesy and interests, and Sylvanas had no intention of doing anything that would betray the Horde… at least, not at present.

Her hand moved with precise, elegant strokes, crafting the curved lines of the high elves' highly stylized writing. It had taken nearly a year to regain this skill after she had reclaimed and possessed her own deceased body, a struggle thanks to how sluggish it felt compared to before. The nerves in her palms had partly rotted away, making them less sensitive and harder to control. The necromantic energies could regenerate her body to a near-pristine undead, but they couldn't restore it to what it once was at its peak.

Despite these limitations, most of her body was still as responsive as before, allowing her to enjoy simple pleasures like food and most entertainment in her otherwise hellish existence.

Sylvanas quickly wrote down all the relevant information without skipping anything and put it in an envelope, carefully selecting a stamp. She sealed the letter in a musty envelope with a wax seal marked with her family crest, a proud reminder of her once-beloved heritage. Done with the task, she snapped her fingers. A demon close to three meters tall appeared beside her, his upward-curving horns brushing the ceiling from his sheer height. His hoofed feet tapped against the floor with a clacking sound as he neatly folded his massive leathery wings behind his back, kneeling before her.

This was Varimathras, a dreadlord who had served her ever since he betrayed his peers during the short civil war that had erupted among the scourge forces. Some had broken free from the Lich King's control, while others remained loyal when the monster had grown weaker for unknown reasons, retreating with him. She knew that the demon was a double-faced snake that knew nothing else but self-interest, but after he performed the unthinkable - killing his own kind in front of her eyes- he had nowhere else to go, for the Legion too despised traitors. The betrayal had forced him into her service, leaving him with no choice but to remain loyal. Any other city leader would have his head on the spot, including those among the Horde, besides her.

Sylvanas stared at Varimathras with a mixture of irritation and begrudging respect. The demon was an excellent tactician and politician despite his treacherous nature, having assisted her throughout her reign. A reasonable action would be to kill him, but the demon was giving her all the right advice to lead the forsaken towards the one goal that mattered to her: revenge. Her sole reason for existence was to put an arrow through Lich King's black heart, and he was more than happy to assist in striking down the individual who had exiled him. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, or so they say in these harsh lands.

"My lady, I have returned with all I could gather," Varimathras stated in his deep, resonant voice, giving a short bow that barely concealed his smirk.

"Report," Sylvanas commanded, her voice icy.

"Ainz and Buku have seemingly appeared out of thin air in the Elvynn forest. There are reports that Buku is able to cast the largest reported mass blessing in Stormwind's history, a feat that has left the city's religious circles in awe and attracted the attention of their entire political circle. A few days ago, Ainz and Buku stopped a prison riot near-single handedly by killing over four hundred inmates in a single session. My agents report that the Stormwind spy network is in panic mode and has not been able to put eyes on these entities." Varimathras's eyes gleamed with the pleasure of delivering such disturbing news.

"Do not attempt to spy on them further, instead try to keep tabs on their location. Deliver this to Thrall and send him my regards." Sylvanas instructed, handing him the sealed envelope, putting away her quill.

"As you command." Varimathras took the letter with a flourish, leaning forward. "Might I suggest planning some contingencies in case we have to deal with these individuals?" Varimathras continued, his face twisting with a subtle smirk, lips barely parting and revealing an upper row of razor-sharp teeth.

Sylvanas raised an eyebrow, knowing better than to ignore the demon's advice on the matter, "What do you have in mind?"

"There are plenty of proud meat shields within the ranks of the Horde. They would benefit from knowing that Ainz is not only an undead but a necromancer. And you, my Lady, can reveal to your fellow faction leaders that he can control the undead, thus making him a threat equal to that of the Lich King. This revelation could be used to galvanize our forces and possibly force the Lich King to make some risky moves."

Sylvanas nodded, absorbing the suggestion. "And the Alliance?"

"Similar information should be disseminated among their leaders. Let them know that Ainz's powers make him a formidable threat. Finally, we should look into the ways to turn Ainz against Buku. I can make it happen." Varimathras added with a smirk that suggested he took a perverse delight in manipulating others. Which he did, but as long as he was helpful, Sylvanas was fine with looking the other way.

"Very well," Sylvanas sighed, dismissing the demon with a wave of her hand. "You can carry out this plan."

"Excellent." Varimathras tilted his head and teleported away in an instant.

Varimathras vanished, leaving behind faint traces of fel energies, a reminder of his infernal origins. Sylvanas stood in the dim light of her quarters, feeling the weight of her existence pressing down on her. Her hand instinctively drifted to her chest, the searing pain of light still burned from within and would do so for a while. Buku's blast was so powerful she nearly died from a single hit, capable of slaughtering dozens with a single ray if she so chose to do so. Such control over the light was beyond everything she had ever seen, in both life and death. It was as if Buku could channel the sun itself, burning away darkness with a mere flick of her wrist. The mysterious woman could be the bane of all undead if she so wished.

Doubt seeped into her mind. Perhaps trying to manipulate or undermine Ainz and Buku was not the wisest course, and a true alliance would be a better option, considering the dangers she posed. She was well aware that most of the Horde hated her and her people. They were abominations, a crime against the natural order, bound to walk this earth until their minds deteriorated and bodies crumbled. There were a lot of forsaken who sayed dead after receiving fatal blows but she alongside the dark rangers were not so fortunate.

"Why such monsters?" she mused aloud, her lone voice echoing softly in the ornate room. Two impossibly powerful creatures just show up out of thin air and walk the world like vagabonds. Their presence stirred chaos, unraveling the careful balance of power and politics wherever they went, piece by piece. It was as if they were harbingers of some great change, yet they moved with an air of nonchalance that was infuriating and fascinating.

Ultimately, all she wanted to be sure of was that Arthas paid for what he had done to her and her beloved homeland. A homeland she couldn't return to. Her own kind could only see a rotting monster, a mockery of their once brave ranger general, but she would do what they could not.

As she pondered her next move, the subtle elegance of her quarters seemed almost mocking. The opulence felt out of place, a stark contrast to the grim reality outside these walls, a representation of her chasing the remnants of life. But for now, it was a refuge, a place where she could scheme and plan and dream of a world where Arthas was no more.

Edited by NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, aidan_lo, and Malguis

Link my discord server (https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2)

Chapter 18: Volume 1 - Chapter 18

Trigger warning: Incest. Nothing overtly graphic, but I feel I should give people a proper warning. I will mark the particular area for those who wish to skip it.

Chapter 18

Katrana's voice was akin to a banshee's wail, echoing through the stone corridors of Stormwind Keep, sending shivers down the spines of anyone unfortunate enough to overhear her rage. Her fury was palpable, a storm of indignation, focused solely on Mathias Shaw. She paced like a caged lioness, her eyes blazing with barely contained rage as she spat venom at the head of Stormwind's intelligence network.

"Useless moron!" she shrieked, her voice a weapon honed to a razor edge against the man. "What use is the SI:7 if you cannot focus on just two people? You better find a way to spy on them or I will make sure you'll regret being born!"

The troublesome pair had caused quite a ruckus in the Undercity and now were on the way to their next stop, the Horde capital, Orgrimmar, where they no doubt would do more unforeseen actions.

Shaw stood across from her, a statue of calm amidst the tempest. His expression was carved from granite, his eyes cold and unyielding against her blazing inferno. "I told you they caught the spy and we are yet to determine safe methods to get close to them. I won't risk the lives of my subordinates because of your impatience, Prestor," he replied frigidly, his face betraying no emotion.

"Watch your damn tone!" Katrana hissed, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat, her fingers itching to unleash her wrath, ready to remove Shaw's head with a single swipe as her magic roared to end the man.

"I recommend you do the same. Bolvar is petitioning the king to remove you from the position of royal advisor. You are walking on thin ice, Prestor. Don't make me add to the Regent Lord's concerns and report your 'concerning' behavior." Shaw didn't lose his composure, calm as always.

"Oh, is he now?" Katrana sneered, her voice dripping with disdain. "That dullard can't protect his own backside, let alone the nation." She hissed, each syllable a carefully crafted insult against her foe. "We already know what happens when a paladin takes charge. Maybe you should ask him if he plans to follow Arthas' path."

"I don't see any correlation. Is this all?" Shaw yawned, a calculated insult, dismissing her concerns as if swatting away an irritating fly, something she hated.

"Find a way to spy on them," she repeated, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "And, Shaw, if I were in your shoes I wouldn't try anything against me, lest you want the situation to devolve into civil war." Katrana gave a sinister smile to the man, knowing she still held him. "I have worked hard to keep this nation prosperous and would rather it not get ruined by idiots who cannot think. Need I remind you who increased the budget of the SI:7?" She used the dragon eye amulet hung on a golden chain around her neck to influence the man, pushing forward her magic once more.

Shaw was becoming increasingly resistant to her attempts to control him, which could end in disaster and ruin her carefully crafted plans. Something that was unacceptable.

"As if I could forget. I will see what can be done," Shaw replied, his voice a mix of resignation and duty.

"Good. Now leave!" Katrana barked, waving him away with a flick of her wrist, as if shooing a pesky fly. Shaw left without a backward glance, eager to distance himself from the volatile storm of unreasonable demands and blazing hatred that was Katrana Prestor.

Left alone in her office, Katrana seethed, pacing back and forth like a caged tiger. 'Useless, all of them are useless. Brother was right, I should have given up trying to control the SI:7 and dismantled them when I had a chance.' Her mind raced with thoughts of power and betrayal, her ambitions spiraling through her mind like smoke.

The actions of the mysterious pair, Ainz and Buku, were a thorn in her side, their unpredictable nature threatening to unravel her carefully laid plans of decades of work. They had almost eliminated the forsaken which was a necessary counterbalance to the Alliance. She was already so close to becoming a proper queen, she could almost taste it in the air, half-feeling the throne already beneath her. Just a few more years and she would marry Anduin, orchestrate a tragic accident, and finally rule over the pathetic humans. The dwarves would be simple enough to handle after that, their stubborn pride no match for her cunning and abilities, and she would begin to properly reign as befitting her greatness.

If not for the undead-controlled north, the fallen human kingdoms could potentially rebuild and ruin her and her brother's plans, and thus they had to remain stable to maintain the status quo.

'I should consult him on the matter.' She finally decided, her resolve hardening like the strongest steel. She strode from her office, making sure the castle guards noted her departure as they cleared the way for her. Once she was outside the castle, free from any prying eyes, Katrana teleported to her brother's domain, the ashy Burning Steppes south of the Blackrock mountain. The land was scorched and barren, a hellish environment where only the strongest survived and almost nobody thrived. Ash hung thick in the air, swirling around her like a malevolent mist of death. Most of the vegetation had burned away long ago and the charred remains of long-dead trees stood grim, their skeletal branches clawing at the sky as they crumbled with age.

With a long exhale, she shed her human visage, her form rippling and expanding as she transformed into her massive natural form. Her wings unfurled with a mighty snap, each scale glistening in the dim light like finely polished obsidian. She stretched her wings, feeling the familiar power course through her veins, and let out a roar that echoed across the desolate landscape.

As used as she was to her visage, the natural form of a dragon just felt right. She took flight, flying towards the volcanic mountain in the distance. The land below was a patchwork of ash and stone, dotted with orc encampments here and there. These orcs had sworn fealty to her brother Nefarian, the current ruler of the black dragons and the eldest son of Deathwing who was also the strongest dragon still around.

Well, only if her father was still alive, but at this point she couldn't tell since he had been gone for years, nowhere to be found. It was better this way. She would co-rule the world with Nefarian as their plans slowly came to fruition not overshadowed by her father's iron rule over her dragon flight.

The volcanic mountain rose before her in just a few moments, its slopes dotted with streams of molten rock that glowed like fiery veins. She circled the peak, her keen eyes easily spotting the side entrance into the blackwing lair. About a kilometer above the ground, a balcony, large enough to let a full-grown dragon land and enter with ease, awaited.

Katrana, or Onyxia as her dragon name, landed on the stone slabs with a crushing impact, her massive claws sending cracks spiderwebbing through the stone slabs. Folding her wings against her sides, Onyxia strode into the lair, her presence commanding and fierce towards all nearby lesser beings, not that there were any.

"Ah if it isn't my beloved sister." came the familiar, sardonic voice of Nefarian, known to others as Victor. His voice resonated through the cavernous space, carrying both warmth and malice towards his sister. The lair was filled with the stench of sulfur and smoke, the air charged with arcane energy, as though the very stones hummed with latent power.

Onyxia shifted back into her human visage as Katrana, her appearance elegant and refined. She approached her brother, who sat regally on a stone throne, his fingers deftly tinkering with a glowing magical orb. His eyes flicked up to meet hers, a sly smile playing at the corners of his lips as he greeted her.

"I have news, brother." She announced, her voice smooth and confident as she crossed the distance between them with familiarity.

"Oh? Do tell," he replied, his eyes glinting with curiosity as he stood up, the orb forgotten on the throne behind him. If his beloved had information she deemed interesting, he wanted to know about it too.

Katrana began to rant, her frustration bubbling over, "Two powerful individuals showed up out of nowhere and ruined my plans! Those useless fools at SI:7 couldn't even spy on them properly."

The incest part starts!

As she spoke, Nefarian met her halfway, his presence imposing. Without warning, he roughly grabbed her waist and pulled her close, his grip firm and possessive as his lips reached for hers.

"Brother," she let out a playful gasp, feigning surprise at his boldness.

Nefarian ignored her antics and ran his fingers through her hair, his touch tender and commanding as it should be between mates. With a swift motion, he drew her in for a kiss, his lips capturing hers with a fierce intensity.

"I don't think it's a good time for mating," Onyxia mumbled between kisses, though her protest lacked conviction. She returned his affection with equal fervor, her teeth grazing his lower lip until she tasted the metallic tang of blood. Their kisses were aggressive and full of a fiery passion that mirrored their personalities, deep and half-insane.

Her brother had long been her one and only consort, a bond forged as much from necessity to survive as from shared ambition to rule. Only together could they create offspring strong enough to carry their legacy, and she saw no problem with their relationship whatsoever. Even if other dragon flights mostly looked down on mating with their clutch mates, she dismissed such concerns with a flick of her tail. They could complain when they were dead.

"You promised me another clutch. We need to get our numbers up and fast." Nefarian reminded her, breaking their kiss with a growl of impatience, drawing more blood.

Incest Part Ends!

"I know, but some other time. We have a problem on our hands." She replied, biting her lip, her eyes flickering with both mischief and genuine concern.

"How bad can it be? What could two mortals possibly do?" Nefarian questioned, his arrogance palpable.

"I'm not sure they are mortals," Onyxia explained, her voice tinged with a bit of irritation, pushing him aside. "They used visage forms and single-handedly ruined my riot plan by slaughtering all the prisoners."

"Mildly troublesome…" Nefarian tapped his foot, a thunderous sound that echoed through the lair seemingly forever. "Why not just kill them?"

"I can't risk my position and do it openly. Besides, I heard they almost killed the Banshee Queen."

"They are quite the troublemakers." Nefarian chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound. "I could send Firemaw to deal with them directly. Where are they now?"

"On their way to Orgrimmar," Onyxia replied, her scales shimmering as she shifted back to her dragon form. "I feel a bit peckish. I hope you don't mind if I hunt some of the dwarves infesting your lands."

"You'll be doing me a favor. Eat as many as you want." Nefarian waved her off, heading back for his throne.

With a mighty beat of her wings, Onyxia launched herself into the sky, her massive form casting a tremendous shadow of doom over the scorched earth below. The thought of a dwarven feast brought a wicked gleam to her eye, and she let out a roar that sent any nearby creatures scurrying for cover. As she soared over the barren landscape, she relished the hunt, her heart pounding with the thrill of it all. For now, she would satisfy her hunger and leave thoughts of troublesome mortals for another day. It was time to remind the mortals just how powerful dragons were.

Soon she would have to return to Stormwind to parade around as Katrana Prestor, but for at least a short while, she could afford to be Onyxia. The war between her brother's forces and the armies of the Firelord Ragnaros had raged on for a few years, with Nefarian controlling the ogres and Blackrock orcs while the fire elemental ruled over the dark iron dwarves. Each side controlled half of the Blackrock Mountain and engaged in perpetual war for total domination.

She understood why Nefarian was so eager to mate. He needed more dragons to ensure his rule, and even adolescent ones were powerful warriors on the battlefield. Not to mention, he was trying to infuse them with the energies of dragon flights in his attempts to create chromatic dragons, superior to any other dragon out there in existence. The more she laid now, the more warriors he would have later to field.

After flying for about an hour, she finally spotted her first prey. A cluster of dwarves, their armor glinting like dull gems in the ash-strewn landscape, moving in formation below as they hunted orcs. Onyxia descended with frightening speed, the air whistling past her scales as she snatched up the creature in her jaws with ease. She contentedly chewed on the meal, breaking its armor like paper as the dwarf let out one last dying scream. He would be the first of many she feasted upon today, including the ones panicking below.

With relish she chewed, savoring the crunch of metal and bone on her tough fangs. The taste of fear, seasoned with a hint of desperation, was delicious on her tongue. This was but the first course of her feast, a mere appetizer to the buffet that lay ahead. She scanned the ground below for more victims, her sharp eyes picking out every detail of the terrain.

<X>

'There's something so satisfying about a well-cooked dwarf,' she mused to herself, recalling an old dragon joke about dwarves and their propensity to dig their own graves - literally. Her laughter echoed through the sky, a chilling sound that sent shivers through any living creature within earshot as they fled for safety.

The name of the world the Legion had conquered ages ago was long forgotten to history, irrelevant to what it is today. Its barren lands were filled with the rampaging energies of the fel magics, as what life still existed was turned into demons.

Varimathras appeared on the top of the citadel, his brethren standing in a half circle. Delivering the letter to Thrall had given just him enough time away from Sylvanas' sight to avoid raising any suspicions from the city ruler. Even though she saw herself as cautious and clever, the undead elf was easy to manipulate and guide toward the direction beneficial to the Legion. The foolish mortals didn't know that demons couldn't be slain in the material realm, the only permanent death being death in the twisting nether.

The nathrezim, better known as dreadlords, were the intelligence agents of the Legion, with nothing escaping their sight no matter the job or faction. This particular group was tasked with both assisting and keeping an eye on him. The Legion didn't tolerate betrayal, and far too many had been caught double-dealing in their own interests, doomed to permanent nonexistence.

Each dreadlord had a different shade of skin, ranging from reddish-purple to grayish-purple. All of them shared similar large wings and crooked horns that cast jagged shadows on the ground, sights that would frighten any other mortal.

"Welcome back, brother. We investigated your claim." Drurtakh, the leader of the group, greeted him, his voice smooth and oozing with malevolent intent.

"Not even lord Kil'jaeden knows who or what those two are," Hul'sar added.

"Troubling. Could they be from shadowlands?" Varimathras stretched, savoring the fel-filled air as it filled his lungs, eyes flaring up with the surge of energy. As a properly summoned demon, he could remain in Azeroth permanently, but at the same time, he didn't have much time to spend in places filled with fel. He'd take what he could get.

"Possible, but unlikely. We would have known if something powerful broke the barrier of death," Another dread lord stated, his voice seemingly as deep as the abyss.

Varimathras considered this, his mind churning with possibilities. The uncertainty about these mysterious figures gnawed at him like an itch that couldn't be scratched, an itch that only grew with time. He reveled in the chaos and unpredictability, but this... this was a wild card he wasn't sure how to play. "They need to be controlled. Perhaps used as conduits to open a gate for invasion." Varimathras suggested. Summoning a demon to guide Ainz and Buku wouldn't be hard. With a little finesse, they could be manipulated into summoning a dreadlord themselves, and the rest would fall naturally.

"Not before the Lich King is dealt with. The traitor needs to be removed before the invasion is attempted again. Lord Kil'jaeden wants results." Drurtakh reminded him.

"The plague research is going according to plan. Sylvanas will not get in the way. Dispatching her at the moment is not beneficial." Varimathras smirked.

"Don't grow overconfident. She almost botched our plan once. Regarding these newcomers, we'll get a tome of summoning in their hands and work from there. Dealing with them is not your responsibility. We'll update you if plans need to be adjusted to account for their actions." Drurtakh extended his hand, producing a tome bound in demon skin. The cover writhed subtly, as if alive, pulsing with dark energy. "Hul'sar, you will be in charge of this operation."

Hul'sar grabbed the tome, dragging his fingers over its surface as the book glowed with a sickly green hue. The symbols etched into its cover shimmered ominously, hinting at the dark secrets contained within. With a snap of his fingers, he teleported away, leaving only the faintest trace of fel in his wake.

"I have everything under control," Varimathras stated coldly, his words lingering in the air like a chill, before he, too, teleported back to Azeroth. He arrived at the apothecary quarter of the Undercity, where the shadows seemed to cling more tightly, whispering of the secrets they held.

Here, the apothecaries loyal to him worked tirelessly on the plague that could kill both the living and the undead, trying to perfect an ultimate weapon against anything that could stand in the Legion's way. The lab was a warren of bubbling cauldrons and flickering candles, casting a dim, eerie light over the proceedings.

A rotting, hunched-over figure stirred in the dim light of the apothecary's lab. Dressed in a thick cloth robe that clung to its skeletal frame like a shroud, the figure's movements were deliberate and measured. The mask it wore resembled a beak the size of a human face.

"No updates as of now. Get me test subjects. Both kinds." The grand apothecary spoke absentmindedly in a voice that crackled like dry leaves before a fire, his gaze never leaving the bubbling concoctions that hissed and seethed before him.

"You'll get what you need soon enough," Varimathras replied smoothly. His sharp senses noted a familiar, elusive presence in the shadows - Sylvanas. Though she was an expert in stealth, her skill was no match for his perceptive awareness. As always, he pretended not to notice her and played along, internally chuckling at her foolishness.

"Human or animal?" Varimathras asked.

"Either will do; humans and elves are better test subjects." the alchemist added without a hint of concern, his focus unwavering as he stirred a cauldron filled with a sickly green brew that bubbled and hissed with an unsettling eagerness. Varimathras had trained the apothecary not to talk aloud about subjects that might raise even the tiniest of suspicions of his true allegiances.

"I recall forbidding you from using elves for tests." Sylvanas made herself seen, appearing right behind Putress.

The apothecary did not flinch. His movements remained steady, as if he were a mere cog in an unfeeling machine. "Dark Lady, scourge is scourge. Humans, elves, orcs, trolls, all the same," he replied, giving little regard for her wishes, his voice dripping with a chilling indifference.

Sylvanas's eyes narrowed into slits, her voice hissing with barely contained fury. "Don't test my patience, Putress. Varimathras, no elven test subjects!"

Varimathras, ever the master of manipulation, gave the apothecary a curious glance. Putress's reckless disregard for Sylvanas's orders worked in his favor this time. His indifference, bordering on negligence, shielded him from any suspicion of disloyalty.

"I am well aware of your orders, my lady," Varimathras replied smoothly. "A trap near Androhall is about to be strung. We will ensure that our plans remain discreet."

Varimathras, ever the schemer, ensured that Sylvanas's rage was directed at the apothecary, rather than at him. He was just a subordinate, nothing more.

As Sylvanas left, her shadow stretching long and menacing, Varimathras's lips curled into a cold smile. The apothecary's careless attitude was a double-edged sword—dangerous yet invaluable. With Sylvanas's ire momentarily appeased, Varimathras could focus on the greater machinations at play. The storm of chaos they were orchestrating was far from over, and every piece on the board had its role to play, from the weakest test subjects to the strongest warriors.

Edited by NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, Malguis, and aidan_lo.

Link my discord server (https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2)

Chapter 19: Volume 1 - Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Slowly traveling by zeppelin over the vast, unchanging ocean lacked the adrenaline-packed thrill of their previous trips through this new world. All they could see was the endless sky merging with the sea at a seemingly infinite horizon occasionally interrupted by islands here and there. The goblin crew's boisterous gambling and raucous arguments didn't provide much entertainment either, their squabbles quickly becoming as routine as the creaking of the zeppelin itself.

Among the other passengers was a small group of undead who kept to themselves, their presence as silent and somber as a funeral procession. In stark contrast, four trolls lounged nearby yelling and laughing, paying little attention to the rest. They were the first species taller than Ainz, standing way over two meters even when hunched over, possibly even taller when standing upright. The trolls' lanky, blue-skinned bodies bore white markings that stood out vividly, like war paint on ancient warriors, and they wore scant clothing, exuding a primal, unbothered confidence in themselves.

The goblins, on the other hand, were pint-sized bundles of chaos, barely over a meter tall with dark green skin and comically large, pointy ears. If one were to capture their essence in a few words, "recklessness and indulgence" would suit them perfectly. Those on active duty went about the ship like the zeppelin could stay up in the air on willpower and sheer determination alone, performing midflight repairs, spilling oil, and tossing around tools without a care in the world.

Ainz, observing all this, remained poised to cast [Gate] at a moment's notice, ready to whisk himself and Buku to safety if things went wrong. The overnight trip made him grateful for his lack of need for sleep; the boisterous clamor and sheer unpredictability of the zeppelin's inhabitants would have rendered any sort of slumber impossible, even for the most exhausted traveler.

When they finally landed beside a towering structure on a barren shore, the rust-colored sand stretched as far as the eye could see, empty of wildlife. Upon touchdown, Ainz and Buku bolted to get off the flying deathtrap, eager to feel solid ground beneath their feet and escape cacophonous hell.

The first thing Ainz noted was how much cruder the orcish architecture was compared to the human structures. The tower was built with crooked stones and uneven planks, each piece chosen not for aesthetic appeal but for sheer practicality in mind, occasionally patched here and there with more uneven bits and pieces. It was a place built to endure, not to please the eye, no matter what others thought of it. Ainz noticed a clear difference in styles - the orcs' straightforward way of life contrasted sharply with the humans' complex and dressed-up societies. The rugged stones echoed resilience, defying the harsh elements through sheer power, much like the people who constructed them through sheer will. The scene served as a reminder that survival often outweighed beauty and elegance in this wild world.

Their goal was clear; enter the city of Orgrimmar and present Sylvanas's mark to the first authority figures they encountered to ensure their arrival didn't spark immediate hostilities due to their presumed races.

"So, we're holding back if the guards in this city prove to be idiots, too?" Buku asked, her voice tinged with impatience as they descended toward the ground, where they expected to meet the first officials of orc lands waiting for passes and taxes.

They had chosen not to switch up visages for the simple reason that the Warchief of the Horde had already been informed of their appearance through swift correspondence.

"That would be for the best," Ainz replied with a weary sigh. "These constant problems do start to get tiring."

"I guess we just need to decide where to establish our kingdom and, when we travel, we should have a massive escort, prestige, the works."

"I think I prefer to travel like we do now, just the two of us," Ainz replied, pushing open the door that led outside. The fresh air was a relief after the confined quarters of the zeppelin, but the sight that greeted them was anything but comforting.

"I don't mind it either," Buku replied, stopping in her tracks. "It's just… you know, takes a lot out of me to not bash heads in when people treat us like shit for no reason."

Outside, a formidable group of a dozen orcs stood beside their mounts - large, black wolves with fur like midnight shadows, their eyes gleaming with a predatory glint as they surveyed each person passing by. The saddles strapped to their backs were rough and worn, evidence of long journeys and years of usage. The wolves no doubt served as mounts for the green-skinned creatures. The wolves were fearsome creatures, easily towering over Buku, their muscles rippling beneath their sleek coats. But it was the orcs themselves who commanded attention from all who approached.

Each orc was a towering giant, standing a full head taller than Ainz, their broad torsos and bulging muscles giving them the appearance of veritable living fortresses. But it wasn't just the height, their skin, a deep green, was scarred and toughened like ancient oak bark, each mark a testament to the brutal life they led in these lands. The weak had no place here, only those who could survive.

'Great' Ainz thought, a hint of sarcasm coloring his internal monologue. 'Just what we needed - more towering muscle-bound giants who probably think with their fists first and their brains never'

He glanced at Buku, who met his look with a raised eyebrow, sharing the same unspoken sentiment. She squared her shoulders, her posture relaxed but ready, as if anticipating that things could go sideways at any moment, already subtly reaching for her blade. For all the tension in the air, there was a strange comfort in facing yet another challenge together, even if it meant dealing with orcs who looked like they could bench-press a small fortress by themselves.

Taking a deep breath, Ainz prepared to approach the orcs, hoping Sylvanas's mark would be enough to prevent yet another confrontation.

The orc leader's voice was gruff and commanding as he addressed Ainz and Buku, his deep-set eyes narrowing with suspicion, "You must be the two that made the undead all scared. Warchief wants to make sure you don't cause any trouble, so you are coming with us. Hop on." He motioned toward the two massive wolves beside him, their dark eyes glinting with an eerie intelligence.

"Thank you for the welcome," Ainz replied smoothly, his tone polite but edged with caution. "We appreciate Warchief's consideration," He approached the wolves, their thick black fur bristling as they sensed the unnatural aura around him. The creature let out a low, frightened whine as Ainz helped Buku get onto one of the mounts and then hopped onto his own. He noticed the orcs exchange uneasy glances, murmuring in their guttural language. But no one voiced their concerns aloud.

They set off in silence picking up dust as they traversed through the near-lifeless valley. The landscape was harsh and unforgiving, with only the occasional bird or patch of grass as signs of life. How the orcs survived in such a harsh environment, let alone thrived, was a wonder that could hopefully be answered peacefully.

The rhythmic pounding of the wolves' paws was the only sound for a while until one of the younger orcs, unable to contain his curiosity, broke the silence, "Oi undead, how did you scare the banshee queen?"

"Keep your mouth shut!" The leader barked in response before Ainz could respond.

But Buku, never one to back down from a challenge, decided to answer, "My husband didn't have a chance. I was about to kill the entire city with a light explosion when she talked me out of it." Her tone was casual, almost conversational, as if discussing the weather rather than the near destruction of an entire city and all of its inhabitants.

The leader, who was at least a decade older than the rest of his troop judging from the streaks of grey in his hair, spoke with veneration, "A paladin. Fought your kind in the second war. Noble warriors. Shame you are one of those forsaken."

Buku's eyes narrowed slightly, but she kept her voice even, "I am not undead, just using this form to not stand out. I thought you would mind if I looked like an orc despite not being one." There was no point in hiding the fact that she and Ainz could shapeshift now that Sylvanas knew.

The younger orc who had spoken earlier snorted in disdain, "Hmph, to be an orc you need strength. A warrior's heart. No tricks like those damn warlocks do." His lip curled as he spat the last word as if the mere mention of warlocks left a foul taste in his mouth.

Ainz glanced at Buku and subtly shook his head, silently advising her to hold back. Even if she held back, beating some grunt into the ground wouldn't be a good first impression, especially one supposedly important enough for an escort.

Buku, however, wasn't one to let a challenge go unanswered, "Was the twelve orcs being our escort ensuring we don't cause any trouble giving you the impression that we're weak?" Her voice was calm, but there was an underlying razor-sharpness to it.

"Young ones always want to prove themselves and seek challenges. They need to experience someone's strength to give respect." The leader grunted, his weathered face creasing into what might have been a smile at what he perceived to be a banter.

"I would be up for the spar… but I doubt he would live it down if a woman half his size beat him." Buku searched for and quickly found a diplomatic way to say that she might kill the orc by accident if they fought.

"Weak!" The young orc let out a taunting laugh, the sound harsh and mocking. It was a sound that cut through the air like a jagged blade, grating on Ainz's already thinning patience. His crimson eyes narrowed as a cold, deadly resolve settled within him.

'They want a demonstration, fine, they'll get one.' The thought burned through Ainz's mind like the flames in his skull. The orc had crossed a line by insulting Buku, his beloved wife, and now it was time to show just how much of a mistake that was. With a flicker of dark energy, he unleashed Despair Aura, Level One. The effect was immediate and devastating. The wolves, once proud and fierce, stopped immediately in their tracks, plopping to the ground and letting out whimpers, their tails tucked between their legs as they trembled in abject terror. The orcs, too, weren't spared. Their brash confidence evaporated in an instant as their bodies began to shake uncontrollably unconsciously, their eyes wide with fear as the oppressive aura washed over them like a suffocating wave.

Ainz stepped off his mount, the world beneath him now as still and dead as a long-dead corpse. He took a deliberate step toward the young orc, his skeletal form radiating a menacing power as his eyes glowed in the darkness. The young orc, though shaken, managed to raise his axe in response, his knuckles white as he gripped the rough handle with all his might. "Warlock tricks," the young orc spat, though his voice wavering, betraying his fear.

Ainz's hollow eyes bore into the orc's soul, "I don't need tricks to deal with the likes of you. You think you can insult my wife and walk away unscathed?" His voice was a cold, emotionless monotone, yet it carried the weight of a thousand unspoken threats. To prove his point, Ainz canceled the Despair Aura, letting the oppressive energy dissipate as if it had never been unleashed. But the damage was done - this orc was obviously too weak to overcome his mere presence, let alone his physical damage nullification.

"Undead freak!" The orc roared, his fear turning to reckless rage as he raised the axe high above his head, ready to strike. The leader, sensing the imminent disaster, charged forward to get between him and the errant orc, but he was far too slow. Buku, moving with a speed too fast for anyone to perceive, pushed him aside effortlessly, her eyes blazing with a fierce protectiveness, blade already singing.

As the axe came down toward his head, Ainz responded with deceptive speed, catching the blade mid-swing between two of his fingers. With a casual motion, he yanked the weapon from the orc's grip, the force of it nearly dislocating the warrior's shoulder in the process. To add insult to injury, he backhanded the taller opponent across the face with his free hand. The slap was almost dismissive in nature, but the impact was anything but. The young orc went flying, his massive body tumbling through the air like a ragdoll before finally crashing to the ground with a sickening thud. He landed on his side, his once-proud jaw now twisted and broken from sheer brute force, blood pooling from his mouth as he groaned in pain.

The remaining orcs stood frozen in place, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and awe. The leader, still recovering from being unceremoniously shoved aside by Buku, stared at Ainz with newfound respect, his earlier skepticism shattered. The young orc, once so full of bravado, now lay in the dirt, utterly defeated by a single, effortless, demeaning blow.

Ainz tossed the axe aside, the weapon clattering uselessly to the ground beside the wolves, its sharp edge dulled by the sound of metal against stone. He regarded the fallen orc with a cold, unfeeling gaze and asked in a calm, collected tone. "Does this count as victory, or should I slap him a few more times?"

The orcs' silence spoke volumes. Even the leader, who was no stranger to the brutal ways of orcish warfare, found himself taken aback by Ainz's tone. It wasn't arrogance, it was confidence so absolute that it bordered on terrifying, confidence in their absolute might. Beside Ainz, Buku's expression remained neutral, but there was a glint of satisfaction in her eyes as she sheathed her blade. She knew her husband had made his point, and she was more than content with the outcome she had just witnessed.

The orc leader grunted, his gaze shifting to the young warrior slowly dragging himself to his feet. The young orc spat out a couple of teeth, the remnants of his bravado now pooling in the dirt at his feet as it groaned, "That's enough! You are the clear victor. The young fool got what he deserved. Let's move, the Warchief is waiting. The next one opening his mouth will have his salary taken away!"

The young orc, now thoroughly humbled, stared silently at Ainz for a good ten seconds, silent. Then, in a gesture that likely meant respect, he struck his chest with his fist and nodded. Without another word, he grabbed his axe, returned to his wolf, and began to pull the animal up to his feet. But the beast, still paralyzed with fear, refused to move. It dug its claws into the ground as if it feared it would fall off the face of the world.

'I might have overdone it a bit.' Ainz grimaced, contemplating how to resolve the situation without further frightening the already terrified creatures. Luckily, Buku came to his rescue and with a subtle cast of [Fear ward] on the wolves, instantly removing the terror they felt towards Ainz. The effect was immediate, the wolves, now freed of their paralyzing fear, shook off their unease and stood ready to move again, regaining their fierceness.

The rest of the short trip was spent in tense silence. The towering walls of Orgrimmar soon loomed before them, a massive barrier of stone and iron that dwarfed even the grand Stormwind through sheer size. The gates, made of thick, dark wood reinforced with multitudes of iron bands, opened slowly, revealing the city beyond. The architecture was crude but functional, built with the harsh landscape in mind. It was a city of warriors, where strength and resilience were valued above all else and violence was the norm.

As they passed through the gates, another group of orcs awaited them. At the center of the formation, seated on a midnight black wolf that seemed to embody the primal power of the wilderness, was a figure larger and more imposing than the rest, catching their eyes. Clad in dark, weathered armor and holding a massive hammer in his right hand, the orc exuded an aura of authority. Subtle elemental energies danced around him, crackling in the air like distant thunder.

'That must be the Warchief.' Ainz guessed. There was something undeniably majestic about this orc, a quiet power that commanded respect much like himself at times.

The orc dismounted with practiced ease, landing on the ground with a solid thud that seemed to reverberate through the rock and stone, "Welcome, to Orgrimmar, Ainz Ooal Gown and Buku Ooal Gown. I am Thrall, the Warfchief of the Horde," he declared, his voice deep and resonant, carrying the weight of someone who had led armies and won wars.

"Thank you, Warchief. We are honored to be received by you personally." Ainz replied, tilting his head in a gesture that mimicked the orc's actions, his skeletal form somehow managing to convey the appropriate respect.

"It is an honor to meet you, Warchief." Buku joined in, taking her husband's side, performing the same. Though she was smaller than the orcs, her presence was no less formidable, and the orcs could sense that she too was not to be underestimated.

Ainz found it amusing that he needed to look up when shaking hands for once. It was also easy to note that the Warchief was much stronger than the orc he had humiliated, actually having notable strength behind his grip.

Thrall's keen eyes took in the pair before him, noting their composure, their confidence, and the subtle power that radiated from them. "The Horde welcomes you," he replied, his voice deep and resonant, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Despite the outward warmth of his greeting, there was a guardedness in his gaze, a wariness that Ainz didn't miss. The Warchief was no fool; he knew power when he saw it, and he clearly recognized the potential threat the pair posed. Competent.

"Let's converse in my hold. You must be hungry after the trip." Thrall offered, his tone polite but with an undercurrent of cautious curiosity. As a powerful shaman, the Warchief was attuned to the spirits that surrounded him, and they were practically screaming at him about the danger these strangers presented. He couldn't ignore their warnings. Even without the guidance of the spirits, he had no reason not to believe the message Sylvanas sent through her pet demon. These two were not to be underestimated, he would have to be careful.

She had also suggested persuading the pair to serve the Horde as their power was undeniable and making them enemies would be unwise, but he would have to see for himself. Individuals of power didn't casually serve each other without good reason, especially those who had already found another allegiance.

As they walked toward the Warchief's hold, Ainz couldn't help but admire the orc's calm composure. Despite the clear acknowledgment of their power, Thrall maintained an air of dignity and control. It was a testament to the strength of his character, a trait that Ainz could respect in an individual.

Buku, walking alongside Ainz, felt the thick tension in the air but kept her expression neutral. She was well aware that Thrall was sizing them up, and she could sense the weight of his thoughts, likely considering the possibility of courting them to serve the Horde. It was a smart move; their power was undeniable, and making them enemies would be a gamble no one in their right mind would want to take. It was the logical thing to do.

As they entered the hold, Ainz couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between the rough, utilitarian design of the exterior and the more refined, almost ceremonial atmosphere inside. The walls were adorned with trophies of past victories, weapons, and banners, each one telling a story of conquest and survival against the odds, whether Alliance or otherwise. A large hearth dominated the center of the room, its flames casting flickering shadows that danced across the stone floor, its warmth comforting in the chilled air.

The smell of roasted meat filled the air with a hearty aroma that spoke of the orcish love for robust, simple fare. Ainz, though not needing to eat due to his physiology, appreciated the gesture nonetheless. It was a sign of hospitality, a way for Thrall to extend a hand of peace, however tentative. The prepared feast would have appeased even the most gluttonous of guests. Entire roasted pigs glistened with honeyed skin, their juices seeping. Massive kodo chops, their bones still charred from the fire, were piled high beside strider legs roasted to a golden crisp. Barrels of beer and wine waited for them in the Warchief's hold, ready to be drunk from.

Ainz and Buku settled onto thick, woven rugs beside Thrall as more of the Warchief's inner circle joined them, the most intriguing were tauren- towering, cowlike beings who moved with surprising grace, as if afraid that their sheer size might break everything around them. Their calm, gentle presence seemed almost at odds with the primal, warrior-like energy of the orcs, yet they fit perfectly into the tapestry of the Horde's diversity.

Thrall, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, began the conversation after a brief prayer to the spirits, thanking them for the meal, "From what Sylvanas told me, you two want a safe passage through Horde lands?" His voice was deep, resonant, commanding respect without the need for force, unlike the female advisor back in Stormwind nor her king.

"If our presence is not bothersome, then yes, we would like to see more of Kalimdor," Ainz replied. He considered for a moment whether to change his appearance to something more conducive to eating, but the thought quickly passed, it could be considered rude and an unnecessary show of power. Buku, however, had no such reservations, her form and kind were already designed for it. She was already stuffing her face without a care in the world, seemingly trying to outeat and outdrink the locals, all of whom gave her a fight in return, as even the smallest of troll and orc women were at least twice her size.

Thrall watched with a mixture of amusement and curiosity as Buku tore into a massive Kodo steak, not bothering with the daintiness one might expect from someone of her stature as she nearly snapped the bone in half ripping the meat from it. "You have my blessing," Thrall continued, "but I would prefer it if you avoided conflict. Would you consider traveling with a small escort?" The Warchief's tone was diplomatic, but there was an undercurrent of concern. He had already heard about the incident with the young warrior who had foolishly started a fight with Ainz and suffered a humiliating defeat, and that orc had been a decently seasoned warrior. The thought of these two causing unrest in Horde territory was unsettling to say the least.

Thrall's gaze turned inward as he sought guidance from the spirits that always accompanied him. He could feel their agitation, their voices like a chaotic chorus in his mind. 'What are these two?' he silently asked, hoping for clarity.

'Strange. Different. Power, too much power. Death. Destruction. Ambition.' The spirits' voices were frantic, almost panicked, a reaction Thrall had never experienced before from them. It was clear - these two were not to be made enemies of. As long as diplomacy was an option, it was one he needed to pursue to its fullest extent.

Ainz, ever perceptive, noticed the slight tension in Thrall's demeanor, "Is it our appearances that cause unease?" he inquired, his tone as calm and measured as ever. "If that is the case, we can change them."

"We had no problem traveling through Alliance lands as humans, even if we aren't ones," Buku commented between bites, not even pausing in her assault on the feast as she devoured yet another chunk of Kodo steak with the enthusiasm of someone who hadn't eaten in days.

The table fell silent, even Thrall, as one of the older trolls, his skin a deep blue and his eyes clouded with age and wisdom, began to speak, "Da loa say you like dem, walk between worlds." he stated, his voice carrying the weight of ancient knowledge. The orcs, usually so brash and straightforward, watched him with a quiet reverence, while the massive tauren leaned in slightly, their usually stoic faces softened by curiosity and respect. They even stopped eating, putting down their pig and kodo ribs.

"Bwonsamdi greets you as his brotha, Ainz Ooal Gown," the troll continued, his gaze unwavering as he spoke. "Says you and ya wife bring great change."

The words hung in the air, heavy with significance. The old troll, muscles still visible beneath the deep lines of his skin, slowly pushed himself to his feet. His bones creaked in protest, yet he stood tall, his presence as commanding as any warrior in the room. With a slow, deliberate motion, he bowed deeply before Ainz and Buku, a gesture that spoke volumes in this land where strength and honor were the highest currencies, "Da spirits say to show respect."

The room seemed to hold its breath as the elder's words hung in the air, the fire seeming even lowering its blazing roars to hushed crackles. Ainz exchanged a glance with Buku, who had momentarily paused her feasting to listen. For a brief moment, there was a flicker of something like respect, or perhaps, recognition, in her eyes before she resumed her meal with her usual gusto, devouring a rib.

Ainz's thoughts churned behind his impassive gaze. From what little Ainz gleaned from the dwarven books on troll culture, Bwonsamdi was no minor figure for the inhabitants of this world; he was a loa of Death, a being both revered and feared among the trolls. To be acknowledged by such an entity was not a gesture to be taken lightly, especially in a land where the spirits and the gods were as real as the wood and the stones beneath their feet.

Thrall, ever the astute leader, didn't miss the subtle tension in the room. Ignoring an old and wise witch doctor would be foolish, the old troll was one of Darkspear troll chieftain Vol'jin's most trusted advisors. Thrall had received yet another confirmation that making enemies of the pair would have dire consequences, ones that those mighty themselves recognized as strong.

"Perhaps," Thrall began, choosing his words carefully, "taking the appearance of another race would ease the minds of our people, although I will not require it. The Forsaken, although our allies, are not sitting by our tables during feasts. They distrust us, even more than we distrust them. The Loa and spirits see you as honorable guests, and that is more than enough for me." His voice was steady and diplomatic, but his eyes revealed a deeper unease, a wariness that mirrored the old troll's own. The statement was a diplomatic half-truth, a gesture of goodwill toward the duo, but Thrall knew better than to reveal his true reservations. The unease he saw in the old troll's eyes was more than just respect, it was a cautious fear of the unknown, a fear that Thrall also shared. The unknown was dangerous.

Ainz, perceptive as always, noted the slight tremor in Thrall's otherwise composed demeanor, noting and sharing it with Buku. He recognized the wisdom in the Warchief's words, seasoned with age. Adopting the appearance of another race might indeed ease tensions, though it would do little to dispel the underlying wariness these beings of flesh and spirit felt toward him and Buku. They were now even recognized as otherworldly beings, revealing that their gods could see past their disguises, another cause for concern. He inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the Warchief's suggestion. "We appreciate your wisdom, Warchief," he replied in his measured, calm tone. "We will consider your suggestion."

Beside him, Buku nodded, her mouth full of food and dripping with grease, her eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and understanding. "We wouldn't want to make anyone uncomfortable," she added after swallowing, a playful grin tugging at her lips. The sight of her, a petite woman among giants, nonchalantly discussing matters of life and death while devouring a meal fit for a dozen was almost absurd for those present. And yet, there was an undeniable charm in her casual confidence, a disarming presence that, even in the face of such gravitas, made her seem perfectly at ease.

As the conversation moved forward, Thrall wondered deep within his mind, his thoughts returning to the words of the elder troll and the spirits' warnings. Would Ainz and Buku prove to be valuable friends or terrible enemies? Only time and effort would tell.

Editing by NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, Malguis, and aidan_lo.

Link my discord server ( https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2 )

Chapter 20: Volume 1 - Chapter 20

Chapter 20

{ I'm not sure If I like my muscle mommy look. } Buku commented, inspecting her reflection in the makeshift mirror formed by a piece of polished metal before her. Her current form, chosen with the blessing of Thrall, designed to blend in with the orcs of Orgrimmar, was a far cry from her usual elegant and more traditionally lady-like demeanor. The orcish visages they had adopted were both imposing and crude, with bulging muscles and a rugged appearance that screamed violence that contrasted sharply with her more familiar, refined self. The Warchief was adamant about keeping good relations. Their well-hidden escort was composed of the most level headed yet high-rank agents Thrall could offer to ensure no conflicts arose within his domain during their travels.

{ I think you look nice, especially in this outfit. } Ainz complimented her, his voice warm with genuine affection. He had opted for a similar orcish appearance, loaded with even more muscle, though his demeanor remained as serene as ever. The pair strolled through the bustling streets of Orgrimmar, internally sighing with relief at not standing out anymore. The place was scalding hot, the oppressive heat of the midday sun had turned the dusty roads into a shimmering mirage. Most of the city's inhabitants had adapted to the sweltering temperatures through various ways they too had quickly adopted. The inhabitants preferred lighter clothing in weight and color, with men wearing only pants and boots and women donning thin skirts or leather vests that barely covered their various colors of skin, if at all.

{ I could be a block of stone and you would say that. } Buku remarked, tilting her head, a playful glint in her eyes as she stuck out her tongue with a cheeky expression that didn't quite fit in with her current brutish form.

Ainz chuckled softly, his voice carrying a note of genuine amusement. { That did come with a job description. Besides, what man would want to get in trouble with his wife by choosing poor answers? }

{ Fair point. } Buku replied, her eyes scanning the road ahead with a glint of curiosity of the new and unknown. { By the way, what are we doing today? There isn't anything particularly interesting in this city. Just huts strung along the valleys. It'll get old before midday. } Her frustration was palpable as she surveyed the simple, utilitarian architecture of Orgrimmar. The structures, composed of rough-hewn stone and wooden planks, lacked the intricate beauty and history of the cities they had previously visited. This was because the capital was less than four years old, without any historical monuments or architectural marvels of centuries. To be frank, it was more a massive defensive, durable camp than the lauded capital of a powerful kingdom.

Ainz contemplated their options.{ Not sure. Maybe we can find a shop that sells books about orcish history and magic they use. The Alliance sources clearly have a bias, and I'd prefer a more objective view of these magics. } He began to scan the surrounding area for any signs of libraries or bookstores, his eyes sharp and observant.

{ Sure, we can just go for a walk. } Buku agreed.

For a little over an hour they navigated the city, weaving through the throngs of orcs engaged in their daily routines, whatever they were. The city's atmosphere was a mix of bustling activity and harsh reality - stalls selling strange and exotic goods from far corners of the Horde's lands, glowing herbs and twisted talismans made by aspiring shamans, orcs arguing and brawling loudly over deals, and the occasional roar of a creature being led through the streets. The sight of numerous black wolves tethered to posts, their glossy coats reflecting the sun's glare, added a touch of wildness to the scene, that even humanity's finely bred horses were useless here. Yet despite the bustling activity, they found nothing of interest, save for a few blacksmith shops selling weapons and armor, the forge fires casting an orange glow that only intensified the oppressive heat nearby. As the sun crept higher and the day got hotter, the streets, once teeming with life, began to empty as the locals sought refuge in the shadows, haggles becoming whispers and traveling packs becoming smaller. The heat pressed down like a heavy hand on them all, turning the streets into an oven, and the air was thick with the scent of smoke and dust. It was a far cry from the cool, shaded confines of more sophisticated locales in the Alliance.

Deciding to follow the locals' lead, Ainz and Buku made their way to a district hidden within a shadowy, cave-like valley. The natural rock walls provided much-needed relief from the sun's scorching rays, and the air was cooler, though it carried a faint, earthy smell with it. This part of the city felt different; quieter, more secluded, with an undercurrent of something darker lurking just out of sight. With Thrall's escort ensuring they weren't bothered, there was little reason to believe they would be harassed by local lowlives.

As they stepped into the cool shadows, a raspy voice greeted them, "Ah, fresh blood. Come, browse, browse."

The owner of the voice was an old orc who seemed to materialize from the darkness of a nearby hut, muscled as always. He was hunched over, his back bent under the weight of years and hardships, and he supported himself with a crooked staff that appeared as ancient as he did. His skin was greyish-green, mottled with patches of what appeared to be rot, giving him a macabre, almost undead appearance. One of his tusks was broken halfway, the jagged edge a stark contrast to the other, which was chipped and worn down with age. His eyes, milky white and lifeless, seemed to stare into the void, yet they tracked Ainz and Buku with unsettling precision as he stared straight at them. The unnaturally thin form of the once strong man glowed faintly with a sickly green hue, as if some evil force had taken root in his very being, replacing who he was within. He motioned with a gnarled hand toward a pile of dusky and worn-down books with cracked spines and yellowed pages, piles of skulls, and magical trinkets dropped haphazardly on a long table inside a hut.

"Warlock. Do not bother the Warchief's guests." The leader of their escort barked at the old orc as he stepped beside Ainz, the rest of the escort surrounding the decrepit orc

The old orc gave a wheezing laugh that quickly dissolved into a fit of cough. "I am but a merchant, my days of using fel magic are long gone," he rasped. "These honorable guests," he added, his milky eyes shifting to Ainz and Buku, "carry an aura of magic around them. Why not learn about the dangers from books so they do not repeat the mistakes we made?".

Ainz saw the value in the warlock's words, "It is better to learn from the mistakes of others," he mused out loud."I am interested in the history of your people, Old one."

"Browse then. But be warned, the knowledge within leads to corruption. Only the strongest can wield such magic and not get enslaved by them, as you can see." The old orc motioned with his old, half-bony hand to the pile of ancient books and knick knacks.

Ainz approached the table, his gaze sharp as he examined the items, Buku choosing to hang back instead. He reached out to touch one of the ancient tomes, the leather cover cool and rough under his fingers. "Interesting collection," he remarked, his voice calm, though laced with curiosity. "These are such... unique artifacts." Ainz produced a pair of translation glasses from the pocket and skimmed over the selection. The titles he uncovered were as dark as they were fascinating: On Raising the Dead, Warding Against Demons, and The Chains of Enslavement. Each tome promised to delve into the most forbidden of magics, their pages filled with the kind of knowledge that would drive lesser minds to madness. Ainz's expression remained impassive, though he couldn't help but feel a spark of interest at the sight. These were books on fel or the demonic energies no mage would dare to use, fearing the terrible cost such power required. While according to sources the arcane and elemental magics were addicting if overused and the body could grow dependent on magical energies, fel ate away at both the soul and body of mortal beings, a far worse fate for its users, hence why almost nobody touched them. The addiction could be weaned, a worn soul could not.

But one book stood out from the rest, its presence demanding attention from his magical mind. The tome was pristine, its cover a gleaming expanse of scaly leather, embroidered with strange, unknown metals that glinted faintly in the dim light. He picked it up with care, the weight of the book surprising in its solidity. Opening the first page, he found the title written in a script that was neither Orcish nor any language he had yet encountered so far in their travels. Still, with the help of his translation glasses, the title eventually revealed itself: Tome of Summoning.

"That one," the old orc rasped, shuffling closer with the aid of his crooked staff, the wood tapping against the stone floor with each labored step as he pushed aside the escorts, "should only be read and never used. The demons mentioned are powerful ones, a singular warlock would not enslave them but fall to their might."

"Why sell these books if the information within is dangerous," Ainz inquired. There was something suspicious about the warlock, but he couldn't put his finger on what exactly triggered his paranoia. For him, this information wouldn't be dangerous. He already had spells that summoned both the undead and demons and even some that raised the dead, these should do little to him, if anything at all.

"To eat. I am too old to work. The power has left these old bones, a punishment for the crimes of the past." The old orc laughed bitterly, shaking his staff.

Ainz decided quickly, his voice confident as he spoke, "How much for all of the books?" He had no intention of haggling over the details, acquiring knowledge was his priority and sorting through it later was a task he relished. He had coin in spades and then some, enough to fill entire castles if he wanted.

The old warlock's eyes gleamed with a hint of greed, continuing, "Ten gold. Five if you let me keep this one." His gnarled finger shakily tapped the book Ainz held in his hands.

Ainz narrowed his crimson eyes slightly, his disguised face impassive, 'Reluctance to sell is such an overused sales trick.' he thought as he held the book up, examining it with an air of casual disinterest as he shifted, moving like he wanted to put it down. "Sure, you can keep it. I wouldn't pay more than gold for it anyway. Five is far too much no matter what is written in it." His tone was clipped, as he handed back the book and stared the old orc down to show him he had no intention of falling for his tactics, instead reaching for the others.

The old orc's face remained impassive, but there was a brief flicker in his cloudy eyes, a sign that Ainz's dismissive attitude had struck a nerve, "Seven Gold for everything then," the warlock countered without skipping a beat.

"Agreed," Ainz replied without hesitation. He reached into his pocket and fished out seven Yggdrasil coins, the polished metal glittering in the dim light of the creaking hut. The coins were unlike any the old orc had likely seen before, their weight and craftsmanship suggesting a value beyond the ordinary. Still, Ainz handed them over with the ease of a man who had just paid for a loaf of bread with just a few coppers. The local moneykeepers they had encountered earlier had assured him that Yggdrasil coins were just as valuable as the Horde's coins, if not more, thus they could be used without the need to exchange them. If anything, they would be slightly overpaying if they wanted to get maximal value, but that was fine for Ainz.

The warlock's bony fingers clutched the coins tightly, his lips curling into a satisfied, if slightly crooked, smile, sliding them into his pockets. As he did, Ainz casually opened his inventory, a small rift in space appearing before him as the books vanished into the void one by one, their physical forms dissolving into shimmering particles before disappearing completely. Considering how much attention they had already received, hiding this ability wasn't needed anymore, it could be attributed to them being "strong" and no one would question it. In the grand scheme of things, putting items in a pocket dimension likely wasn't that big of a deal. There was a similar spell mentioned in one of the books about arcane magics, the one he knew was just … slightly unique.

The warlock's eyes widened for a fraction of a second, his composed exterior briefly cracking at the sight of such magic. But he quickly regained his composure, offering a raspy chuckle. "Pleasure doing business. Come again in a month and I might have the new selection." With a dismissive wave of his gnarled hand, he shooed them away, as if eager to be rid of them, melting back to the shadows.

As Ainz and Buku stepped back into the sun-soaked streets of Orgrimmar, the oppressive heat hit them like a wave; they had been in the dark just long enough that their bodies had finally stopped sweating only to feel the brunt of the sun once more. The stark contrast between the cool shadows of the cave-like district and the sweltering sunlight was jarring. Buku glanced over her shoulder at the hut they had just exited, "That guy gave me the creeps," she admitted, her usually confident voice tinged with unease.

"Our guards didn't seem to like him either," Ainz noted, his gaze shifting to the orcish escorts who had been shadowing them the entire time. Their tense posture and narrowed eyes hadn't escaped his notice. He turned to address one of them directly whose tension had melted away the moment they had stepped out of the crevice, "Can I ask why you dislike that old salesman?"

The orc, a grizzled warrior with a face marked by deep scars and eyes that had seen too much, hesitated for a moment before speaking. His voice was low and gravelly, weighted with memories of a painful past, "Warlocks sold us to demons. Their foul magic turned us into monsters. I was a young pup when they gave me the demon blood… Dark times. Not proud of what I did." the orc turned away, his face twitching in barely contained anger, pent-up rage left unanswered roiling behind his eyes.

The orc's words hung heavy in the air for all of them. His hands, large and calloused from years of battle, clenched into fists at his sides, as if he were fighting to keep those dark memories at bay.

Ainz bowed his head slightly, a gesture of respect and apology for the orcs, "I see. I apologize for bringing up the topic."

"No, it's better you know." The orc replied as he shook his head. "A lot of blood on our hands. Those books, get rid of them when you can. Burn them somewhere. They will only bring ruin."

Ainz met the orc's gaze, his own expression thoughtful, "My interest in the topic is purely academic. I hoped to find out more about the culture and history of your people, nothing more. If it helps prevent the destruction of your lands and people, so be it." he explained, though he knew there was more to his curiosity than just academic interest. Knowledge was power, and Ainz Ooal Gown the undead mage and high-ranking player was always in search of more power.

The orc sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of years, "We old ones want to forget, but justice and honor demands that we never do. If you want to know about my people, I will-"

A sudden, ear-splitting roar tore through the air, cutting off the orc's words. It was a sound that shook the very ground beneath their feet, reverberating through the city like the toll of a dozen grand bells. Ainz's head snapped up, his eyes widening as he spotted the source of the roar - a massive creature diving straight toward them from the sky.

'Is that… a Dragon?' The thought raced through Ainz's mind, Buku confirming she thought the same. The beast was enormous, its scales glowing like molten metal in the harsh sunlight as it approached ever closer. Each powerful beat of its wings sent gusts of hot wind swirling through the streets and buildings, scattering dust, debris, and people in every direction.

Without a moment's hesitation, Buku stepped in front of Ainz, her body moving with instinctual speed. She activated her shield, a shimmering barrier of energy flickering into existence around them in an instant. Despite her formidable strength and confidence, Ainz could see the slight tremor in her frame, a reminder of just how serious this threat could be.

Dragons in Yggdrasil had always been formidable enemies, their strength and cunning making them some of the most dangerous opponents in-game. Even the lower-level ones required a strategic approach and significant effort to defeat them, even for higher-level players who had multitudes of abilities, items, and experiences on their side. Ainz knew that it was better to be on the safe side and assume this creature posed an immense danger and act accordingly and thus began his own preparations.

The Dragon was upon them in seconds, its massive form blotting out the sun as it descended from above. Its eyes, burning like twin suns, locked onto Ainz and Buku with a predatory gleam. The beast opened its massive jaws as it lunged down, revealing many rows of jagged teeth, each one the size of a longsword, and then it unleashed a torrent of orange flames.

The heat was overwhelming, a blistering wave that turned the air into a searing furnace for all those nearby. But Ainz, relying on his now superior reflexes, cast [Skeleton Wall]. Instantly, a towering barrier of skeletal bones locked together in a defensive stance materialized in front of them. This spell was expensive, draining a notable amount of Ainz's magical power, but it was designed for moments like this, though far less than it should considering what percentage of his total mana the spell took in the game.

The Dragon's flames attack shattered the wall a few moments later, and the beast whizzed by and ascended to prepare for another attack. Below, the flames from its initial assault had spread to the nearby huts, setting them ablaze. The screams of terrified orcs echoed through the streets, mixing with the crackling of burning wood and collapsing structures.

{ I will use [Grasp Heart] on it! We can't hold back now! } Ainz warned Buku, ready to use his signature spell, a devastating attack that could stun strong opponents and outright kill the weaker ones, bypassing most resistances.

{ Wait! Prepare another bone wall. I think I can hit it down from the sky. Don't show your instant kill spell. This might be just a scout. } Buku shouted in his mind.

{ Good point! } Aizn agreed, his thoughts quickly realigning with her strategy. He began to ready another bone wall, his focus on ensuring that they wouldn't be caught off guard by a potential follow-up attack, casting detection magics in all directions.

The Dragon, seemingly unaware of the trap being laid for it, began its descent once more, declaring their deaths with its roar. Its jaws opened wide, preparing to unleash another devastating flame burst that would burn what remained in the area to the ground. But this time, Buku was ready. With a swift and powerful motion, she hurled her shield with deadly proficiency, accuracy, and speed. The shield, a gleaming disc of reinforced metal, sliced through the air with a whistle, spinning with such force that it seemed to blur out of existence the moment it left her hand. It struck the Dragon square in the chest, the impact resounding like a thunderclap. The force of the blow was enough to knock the massive beast off balance, lodging itself in the monster's chest. It let out a pained roar as its body did a full flip in the air, its wings wildly flailing as it struggled to right itself. But gravity wasn't on its side as it plummeted from the skies, its back flipped towards the ground. The creature crashed into a hut, shattering it into pieces, debris exploding in all directions.

Buku's eyes lit up with excitement as she saw the beast struggling to breathe, its great chest heaving as it gasped for air, "Bullseye!" She shouted. Without hesitation, she charged toward the fallen Dragon, her footsteps rapidly pounding against the scorched stone. Despite her speed, she wasn't using her full power, and the distance between them closed with deliberate intent as she drew her blade.

Ainz wasn't idle. He raised a hand, casting a powerful debuff. '[Triple Maximize Magic: Slow]' he intoned, draining a bit more of his magic. The spell spread through the air like an invisible fog, attempting to wrap around the Dragon's form. For a moment, the creature's movements faltered, but it quickly shook off the full effect of the spell, its wings flailing once more. 'Huh, partly resisted?' Ainz mused, a slight frown creasing his brow. The Dragon's resilience was impressive.

The Dragon formed magical circles around its claws, trying to shield himself from further magical attacks. Ainz contemplated using another high-tier spell but hesitated since the beast was already wounded on the ground and Buku had almost reached it, she could be caught up in the AOE.

As Buku neared, her sword gleamed brilliantly in the harsh light. The Dragon, sensing danger, tried to shift its head away, but Buku was too quick. The sword landed firmly on the beast's neck. Yet the high-tier sword proved not to be enough as it shattered against the thick scales.

The Dragon's wheezing grew louder, its breath rattling as the inflicted damage within prevented him from breathing, trying to recover its health.

"Ainz! Magical Sword!" Buku shouted, extending her hand towards him as she stabbed downward once more.

Ainz didn't hesitate. '[Create magical item: Sword]' he cast as an obsidian black curved flamberge materialized in his hand. He hurled the blade towards Buku, which she caught mid-air with the grace of a seasoned and practiced warrior, her movements fluid and precise. Without hesitation, she swung it down onto the Dragon's neck once more. This time, the blade bit deep, smoothly cleaving through scale, flesh, and bone. The Dragon's head separated from its body, rolling away from the massive corpse, which twitched once more before falling still.

The rampage was finally over, the beast dead. It would terrorize the orcs no more. The fight had been quick, but the damage around them would take a long time to repair.

Ainz rushed over to Buku, concern overtaking him as he saw her panting, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yeah." she replied, "Damn, our first Dragon, and a big one at that. We need better equipment." Buku added with a chuckle, pretending they didn't already have inventories full of legendary and divine tier items that could probably raze entire cities to the ground if in the wrong hands and that her husband wasn't already planning to pour over their combined inventories for optimal equipment usage.

"That we do." Ainz agreed, a knowing smile spreading across his lips. With a wave of his hand, he cast the fifth-tier spell [Frozen Mist, summoning a swirling cloud of icy vapor around him. The mist spread quickly, dousing the flames that had begun to consume the nearest buildings. The rest of the street was on fire and in a scorching hot desert environment it would end with the entire city burning down in flames if they failed to contain it, hence the quick action needed.

As he contemplated whether to cast the sixth-tier spell [Change Weather] to stop the spreading fires from blazing even further, a shimmering wave caught his eye. Out of nowhere, a group of water elementals appeared and with playful dances began dousing the blazes. Their bodies swirled in the air as the cool water hissed and sizzled when it met the scorching fire. A moment later, fire elementals appeared and joined the fray, their forms absorbing and extinguishing the remaining fires and embers completely.

Amid this, Ainz noticed Thrall appear nearby, riding on his black wolf, a sizable escort of orc warriors at his side, charging right at him and Buku. The Warchief reigned in his mount sharply as he reached the Dragon's massive corpse, his face etched with disbelief as he hopped off his wolf with practiced ease.

"Do Dragon attacks happen often?" Ainz inquired, approaching the orc leader alongside Buku. The dead Dragon, sprawled across the wreckage of the hut it had crushed, was a daunting sight. It was over twenty meters long, not even counting the long, spiked tail that trailed behind.

Thrall's gaze swept over the scene before locking onto Ainz, his blue eyes narrow and the grip on the hammer tightening. "No," he replied, "We have never faced a Dragon attack. It must have come for you two."

"Hey, we killed the thing!" Buku snapped, crossing her arms defensively. It was easy to see that Thrall wanted to pin the attack on them and she wasn't having any of it.

Thrall's eyes flicked to her, his expression unreadable. "I can see that," he acknowledged. "A feat the greatest of orcs would see as a right to boast. Do you have any idea why such a beast might have been after you?" Thrall asked. The elementals nearby closed in, surrounding him. He turned his head towards the closest one, peering into it.

Buku glanced at the Dragon's massive form, now lying still in the rubble. "Someone wants to get rid of us, that's for sure, but I have no idea who could have a Dragon just lying around to send after us. That is, if it came after us in the first place, we've never been attacked by Dragons before," she added, nudging the Dragon's corpse with the toe of her boot.

Thrall's gaze softened slightly as he turned to one of the elementals hovering nearby. "The spirits believe you and I am inclined to agree with them. It still raises the question of why the Dragon attacked, but that is a question we can seek answers for later. As the ones who killed the Dragon, its corpse is yours." Thrall stated, relaxing his stance.

The spirits, having extinguished the fires, began to retreat back to the skies, their work done. Shamans and witch doctors began tending to the wounded and aiding those whose homes had been damaged or destroyed, hurriedly rescuing who they could. Miraculously, it seemed there were only a few casualties as well.

{ What are we doing with the Dragon corpse? } Ainz asked Buku. The remains of the slain beasts no doubt cost a fortune, and its materials could be used to create powerful armor and weapons even by Yggdrasil standards.

{ We could keep the head and maybe some scales, and for the rest either sell or donate to orcs depending on how heroic we want to appear in their eyes. Thrall is liking us less and less it seems. } Buku responded.

{ Hmm, we could go with that. If we want to have further relations with the Horde, it would be beneficial to leave a good impression. } Ainz agreed.

"We will take the head and the scales," Ainz announced. "I think the rest can be distributed to people who lost their homes in this attack."

Thrall eyed Ainz briefly in surprise, doing his best to hide his surprise. "A noble proposition," he replied, his tone more respectful. "On behalf of my people, I thank you."

Ainz nodded, accepting the gratitude with a slight bow. Putting the Dragon's head into his inventory was an easy task, the massive skull disappearing into the purplish swirl with ease. Thrall, now more at ease, promised to deal with the Dragon's corpse, already barking out orders for more soldiers to arrive. With the matter settled, Ainz and Buku were escorted back to Grommash Hold to rest and stay out of the public eye while Thrall dealt with the aftermath of the Dragon's attack.

Editing by NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, Malguis, and aidan_lo.

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Chapter 21: Volume 1 - Chapter 21

Chapter 21

The feast was meant to be a celebration, but it felt more like an uneasy truce. If not for his and Buku's curiosity about how dragon meat tasted, Ainz would have suggested they leave the moment they got the dragon scales. The atmosphere around the feast was thick with tension. The hall was dimly lit, shadows once delightful, now ominous, dancing across the stone walls as firelight unsteadily flickered from the massive torches. Orcs, hunched and solemn, sat in silence as they picked at the dragon meat on their plates. Normally, a feast in Grommash Hold would have been a raucous affair, full of laughter, boasting, and the clashing of mugs to celebrate their victory over such a dangerous beast, but tonight was different. The dragon attack had cast a long shadow over the evening across the entire city. Six orcs had died in the attack, and dozens more were terribly injured, most of whom lost their homes or shops. Even the crackling fires couldn't burn away the heavy cloud of grief and anger that hung in the room, at the now-dead beast and at the persons who had brought its anger upon them.

On the upside, dragon meat was a treat Ainz wouldn't forget any time soon. As he sat in his orc form at one of the long tables, he continued to eat piece after piece, politely consuming as much as he could. The meat had an intense smoky flavor to it, rich and bold in its meatiness, with a stringy texture that required a bit of effort to chew but was satisfying nonetheless. It was gamey, full of the wildness that came from a creature so powerful and ancient that ruled the skies. He had no need to eat, of course, but the experience was fascinating, a rare treat, considering the rarity of black dragons according to literature and Thrall. Even Buku was doing the same, scarfing down even more than he did in her excitement. The head chef of Grommash Hold had boasted that this was likely a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and Ainz had to delightfully agree. The beasts were not only very rare, but they also were notoriously hard to kill even for the most seasoned of war veterans. Even now, as he glanced around the hall, he could sense the orcs' silent admiration for what he and Buku had accomplished. Slaying such a beast was a feat not soon forgotten, even if it came with deadly consequences.

As the feast gradually wound down, most of the orcs slowly left the hall, leaving only Ainz, Buku, and Thrall seated at the grand table in the center and the remaining platters of dragon steak. The flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows over the stone walls, turning them into spectral watchers of the tense conversation that was about to unfold. The Warchief was unlikely to be a pushover since orcs valued strength the most but even then removing all guards spoke volumes of his assurances that they wouldn't kill him.

"I have an offer to make." Thrall started, his voice full of authority, his hand grating on the handle of his weapon, Doomhammer, sparks dancing around as if sensing its master's unease. "Join the Horde as champions. Whatever you are running from, we can face it together. And in return, you will help me protect my people. I have seen your valor and your resolve, and I believe you will find your calling by standing with us."

Ainz, still in his orcish guise, leaned back slightly in his chair, his fiery crimson eyes glowing faintly beneath the illusion. He listened to Thrall's offer with patience. When he spoke, his voice was calm, his tone was steady, "We are not running from anything. Whoever sent the dragon after us will pay for it dearly."

Buku, leaning forward slightly, flashed a grin that was both charming and aggressive. Her golden eyes glinted in the firelight as she added, "We're not interested in joining any faction, Thrall. Allying and being friends? Sure, But serving? Not our style."

Thrall studied them for a moment longer, his gaze thoughtful. He was not easily swayed, nor was he easily intimidated, thanks to his years of leadership experience. Yet he could see that these two were something far greater, far more dangerous than he could reasonably handle if things went south. Forcing them to serve him was out of the question. "Then what do you plan to do?" He asked, "Who are you? You are not just two mortal beings, of that I am convinced."

Ainz and Buku exchanged a brief glance, the kind of look that spoke of years of companionship, of shared secrets and unspoken plans, to the orc. Ainz let a moment of silence hang in the air before responding, his voice filled with an enigmatic calm. "You're right," he stated, "We are not, but at the same time, revealing what we are would have little meaning to you." His gaze sharpened slightly, a flicker of crimson light dancing in his eyes. "As for our plans, we want to learn about the world, to understand its history and its people. And in time, we will find a place we can call our own, for us to settle down in. We have no desire to get caught in the middle of your conflict with the Alliance."

There was a brief pause as Ainz reached into the hidden depths of his inventory, retrieving a fancy-looking scroll and gently placing it on the table in front of Thrall, its presence immediately commanding attention in the dim hall. "This," Ainz began, his voice calm but resolute, "is a message scroll. Should the Horde ever face a threat that endangers the world itself, we will come and offer our aid." He paused for a moment, his crimson gaze locking with Thrall's, ensuring the importance of the next words sank in. "This scroll contains a single [Message] spell, allowing you to contact us no matter where we are, but we will only respond if the world is truly in danger and not just petty politics."

Thrall's eyes widened slightly at the sight of the scroll and its implications, but he quickly regained his composure. He reached out and carefully took the scroll in his hands, feeling the weight of the unknown magic imbued within it. For a moment, the sparks around Doomhammer flared brighter, as though reacting to the power of the artifact. "Your position is understandable," Thrall replied after a moment, his voice respectful. "Thank you for this offer. And know that my offer stands as well - should you ever decide to settle among my people, you will find a land of honest allies, not enemies, here."

In the quiet that followed, Buku's voice slid into Ainz's mind, her tone dry and laced with the usual hint of humor. { I think it's time to go. No matter where we are, someone will try to rope us into their games. We need our safe base and we need it now. Thrall may seem like a decent guy, but I doubt he would think twice to exploit us for political gain. }

Ainz had to agree with her plan. No matter where they went, there would always be someone seeking to use their power for their own ends. { The problem is we have no idea where to start making one. } Ainz admitted, his mental voice carrying a hint of frustration at his inability to provide information, something he had been trying to solve by constantly pouring over tomes of geography, history, geology, and biology wherever he went.

{ You still have that home-creating spell, right? } Buku countered. { We can use it in some remote area. Perhaps high in the mountains. A place that isn't accessible without flight or teleportation.}

{ I have the spell but you know that the fortress disappeared after a day in the game. } Ainz reminded her.

{ I know. Still better than dealing with all this shit. Let's go and figure out what to do for us. Perhaps we can extend its duration with some experiments, but it's better than nothing. } Buku urged, her tone laced with a bit of resignation.

Ainz gave her a subtle nod of agreement. While they could navigate these political waters for now, they needed to establish a place where they were free from the machinations of others and claim their own. The scroll, after all, wasn't just a gesture of goodwill. It was insurance. A magical lifeline, but one that came with limitations. Ainz had kept the item along with numerous others, in his inventory, rather than storing them all in the treasury of his guild, long ago thanks to his hoarding urges. The [Message] spell imbued within was capable of traversing vast distances, yet its use was singular. It allowed for only one direct connection, a transmission of words as long as the scroll was held. After the communication was severed, another scroll would be required for further contact, meaning he controlled how others contacted them.

The spell also had its weaknesses. Ainz knew that it would fail if the recipient was blocked off by enough magic or - more grimly - if they were dead. These intricacies were important but remained unspoken as Thrall tucked the scroll away. No need to bog down the moment with unnecessary details, it was good enough for now.

They would leave on good terms, much better terms than they had with Stormwind and the Alliance. Perhaps they would visit the orcs more often in the future if they needed supplies and information, considering their far more straightforward and honest natures.

Ainz and Buku rose from their seats with a regal, almost spectral grace. Their towering forms cast long shadows across the hall as the flames flickered behind them, their positions solidified in orcish society. The remnants of the feast lay scattered on the long wooden tables, half-empty platters of dragon meat, discarded bones, and goblets of drink, now cold and forgotten in the aftermath of their quiet negotiation. Ainz summoned a thick fur-lined coat from his inventory and draped it around his wife's shoulders, who accepted it with a smile, her form shifting smoothly back into her human appearance. Being the collector and hoarder that he was, Ainz had spent his time and money in Yggdrasil amassing a formidable amount of items, regardless of their actual value, from the least useful sticks and stones to one-time exclusive gacha drops. One-Time Event items shared space with easily obtained common drops in his inventory as nothing was ever thrown away, plus everything in between. These included items that he couldn't personally use or only added cosmetic value such as women's clothes. Now he was grateful that he had saved them up.

Ainz himself resumed his natural undead form, the familiar sensation of his skeletal body returning like an old friend. The remaining orcish guards, standing at the far end of the hall, shuddered slightly as they witnessed his unsettling transformation. No matter how often they saw it, the change from a mighty orcish warrior to an unholy lich would always unnerve them.

"It is time for us to go," Ainz declared, his deep voice, regal and echoing slightly in the grand chamber. He gave a formal, if restrained, bow to Thrall, "Until we meet again, Warchief."

Thrall simply nodded, his blue eyes lingering on the duo as they moved away, the bovine servant beginning to move in to clean up. The Warchief watched in silence as Ainz raised a bony hand and a dark portal formed in the air before them, its swirling, inky blackness crackling with arcane energy, its end destination impossible for him to see. He would have to consider upping their enchantments if portals like these could be used at will.

The gate led to the snowy mountain range north of Ironforge, a remote place the duo had passed while riding gryphons. It was high, inaccessible, and most importantly was far from the political games of the world. Unless there was another force hidden under these icy caps, but that was always the risk of exploring the unknown.

As they stepped through the gate, the sweltering heat of Durotar gave way to the sharp bite of frigid mountain air, the portal closing behind them. The icy wind came as a refreshment after spending time in the hot sun of the orc homeland. Snow swirled around them in gentle eddies, the crystal white peaks before them towering majestically against a stark, clear sky. The landscape was breathtaking, the vast wilderness untouched by civilization and utterly silent, save for the wind howling through the crags and crevices. Beside him, Buku's human skin flushed slightly as the cold air hit her, but she wrapped the coat tighter around herself. A puff of visible breath escaped her lips and she couldn't help but smile at the change of scenery. It's not like the cold could damage her, but it did remind her of the unpleasant sensation of getting out of bed in the morning and coming in contact with the filtrated room air, always too cold for liking to save on energy bills. The same was true for the heat, which only gave an unpleasant sensation without damaging her body in any manner. Albeit she, unlike her husband, tolerated hotness better than coldness.

"Aah, now this is more like it," Buku muttered, her voice muffled slightly by the coat. She glanced around at the endless snow-capped peaks with a satisfied grin. "Peace, quiet… and no one trying to trick us into saving the world."

Ainz chuckled softly, "It is rather serene," he agreed, surveying the landscape. Despite his skeletal form, he appeared every bit the noble ruler, his posture straight, his presence regal as his robe fluttered with the wind. The cold was inconsequential to him, as he could barely feel anything in this undead form layered on top of his resistances. His crimson eyes scanned the horizon for a suitable location to summon the fortress, finding nothing and prompting him to prepare another spell, "We could settle in this area for now and plan our next steps."

Even if it disappeared after a day, it could be resummoned and all their belongings would be kept in their inventories, meaning no harm done.

"It will do for now. But I'd prefer to live somewhere warmer. I wonder if this world has tropical beaches. A nice vacation home to just laze in the sun by the sea is something I'd eventually want. Just imagine it, lounging in the sun, servants bringing us refreshing drinks." Her voice took on a dreamy tone, her expression growing wistful of daydreams left unanswered.

Ainz hummed thoughtfully, "There probably are areas like that," he remarked, "Perhaps we'll find one, once things settle down. Warm areas would've already been taken up by this world's natives, it is unlikely that we could find an isolated region with these conditions," Ainz said nothing more.

With the quick application of [Remote Viewing, his gaze stretched far and wide, skimming over the landscape far into the distance until he found a perfect spot. There was a small plateau hidden behind a towering peak, shielded from prying eyes unless you were viewing it from above or at a very specific angle.

Once they arrived in this new spot a few moments later, Ainz raised his arm and with a single, practiced motion, he cast [Create Fortress]. The ground beneath them trembled as a huge ten-story-high tower rose from the snow, materializing as though it had always been buried there, constructed by the finest masons and the mightiest stones. The fortress was as imposing as it was otherworldly for the duo. Its dark stone walls gleamed under the pale light of the sun, thousands of runes etched into the surface glowing faintly with protective magic that restricted anyone beside him and Buku from entering unless permitted by one of them. Once inside, they went up to the top floor, a warm, lavish penthouse that stood in stark contrast to the cold, barren landscape outside.

One entire wall was made of enchanted glass, offering a breathtaking, panoramic view of the surrounding mountains as far as the eye could see, yet still durable enough to withstand many magical and physical attacks. Snowflakes gently drifted down outside, creating a serene, almost surreal backdrop to the opulence of the room. The floors were covered in thick, plush carpets, and the air was heated by magical means to keep the cold at bay. At the center of the room stood a large, ornately carved office table, decked out with supplies. In the far corner, a luxurious double bed beckoned with its rich velvet sheets and feather-stuffed pillows.

Buku shrugged off her heavy coat, letting it fall to the floor as she made her way toward the promising bed. Without a second thought, she plopped onto it, sinking into the soft, welcoming mattress. "If only the spell made this permanent," she sighed, stretching out comfortably across the bed.

Ainz, still standing by the window with his hands clasped behind his back, turned his regal gaze toward her, "I believe the spell can be altered to make the fortress not disappear," he remarked. His understanding of magic not only vastly increased the moment he became a Supreme Being but also grew each day as he studied his own abilities and the tomes found in Azeroth, learning its foundations and how to apply them. If anyone could unlock the secrets to making this place last beyond a day, it was him.

Buku's eyes opened at his words, a gleam of excitement flashing in them, "Then let's have it," she stated with a grin. "Even if we build our kingdom far from here, having a backup in case shit hits the fan wouldn't hurt. By the way, does this place have a bath?" she continued, sniffing at her armpit with a scrunched-up face, "I don't want to smell like an orc's ass when we return to civilization."

Ainz chuckled, turning from the window to face her fully, "I believe there's one, it would've been part of the aesthetics," he replied, glancing toward the many doors that lined the room's interior. "Though I'm not sure which one leads to it. And I agree… That is a sound plan. But before we return to civilization, we need to figure out who sent that dragon after us."

Buku rolled off the bed, stretching as she crossed the room, "I doubt it was Thrall," she replied over her shoulder, her hand on one of the doors. "That leaves either Sylvnas or that noblewoman from Stormwind, and I don't think Sylvanas would have the ability to send a dragon at an ally." She started opening doors one by one, peering into hallways.

"Assuming it's Katrana, then we'll need to tread carefully," Ainz mused, his voice growing more serious. " If she's a player, she might be prepared to face us. We can't underestimate her."

Buku snorted, rolling her eyes as she finally found the bathroom, "Ainz, we ain't bitch made. The two of us could probably take down Touch Me in his prime if we used our brains with our newfound abilities." Her voice trailed off as she stepped into the bathroom and whistled. "Oooh hell yeah, look at the size of this beauty! Hey darling, are you coming? I want a back rub."

'Like I could say no to that offer.' Ainz chuckled, taking upon human form and following suit, shedding his clothes.

The bath was nothing short of magnificent, even by what they had seen of this world's standards. It was a large, sunken tub carved from smooth, dark stone, large enough to comfortably fit four or five individuals at once. The water shimmered as it reflected the dim light of enchanted sconces that glowed softly along the walls. Hot steam rose lazily from the water, carrying with it the scent of fresh lavender and sweet honey. The air was thick with warmth, the bath's magic making the very space feel inviting and serene.

Ainz slid into the water beside Buku, instantly feeling the heat soak into his bones, having disabled his passive barriers. He cursed inwardly, wondering for a moment if his innate fire weakness made this experience more intense than it should have been. It wasn't painful exactly, but it was a tad too hot for his liking.

Buku, meanwhile, wasted no time settling between his legs and leaning against his massive chest with a contented sigh. She guided his hands to rest on her stomach, holding them there as if to anchor herself in the warm water. She exhaled deeply, eyes half-closed in bliss, her human form finding perfect enjoyment in it.

"You know, I think we have a lead on where we should start investigating. Maybe even find a group to control," She spoke barely above a whisper.

Ainz hummed in response, relishing in the comfort of the water and the softness of her skin against his own, "Go on," he prompted gently.

"The Defias brotherhood," Buku continued. "They've been a huge pain in the ass for Stormwind for a while. I wouldn't be surprised if they're somehow tied to Katrana. So how about we find out who is behind them and have a chat about future prospects at the same time?"

Ainz's hands idly traced patterns on Buku's stomach, his touch soft but thoughtful as he pondered the idea. The Defias Brotherhood was notorious, a group with resources and a deep grudge against the ruling powers of Azeroth for all they had done. If they could get the cartel to bend their knee, they would have a more than decent force to start with and there would be little need to care about the lives of hardened criminals if things went belly up.

The only concrete information Aizn found about it was that Defias had been initially formed by the former stonemasons who had some sort of a dispute with the Stormwind top brass, which eventually culminated into violent riots across multiple demographics of disgruntled and unsatisfied populations. Once they had separated themselves from the law, like all illegal operations they attracted the eye of criminals, slowly turning the group into what it was today.

It was unlikely that the leader of the shadow organization could provide much resistance against their might and Ainz had multiple methods on how to force someone to comply, both magical and physical.

"We can do that," Ainz replied after a pause. "And I think it's time to put on serious gear even if we stand out. Another attack might be far worse than one black dragon."

"Finally I can look badass." Buku giggled in response. "But that can wait until tomorrow. Right now, we're soaking in the bath and…" She glanced over at the lavish bed, a mischievous grin forming on her lips. "…test the limits of the bed."

"Not a bad plan." Ainz agreed with a chuckle, sliding his hands downward.

<X>

The nightly mountain scenery outside gave the much-needed tranquility. The moon bathed the snowy peaks in its silver light, while a gentle wind blew soft whispers through the craggy cliffs, adding an air of serenity to the moment. Ainz stood by the window alone, a loose bathrobe on his skeletal shoulders. He preferred this form whenever his human or orc visages weren't needed. Behind him, Buku slept soundly after the lovemaking session, her breathing soft and steady. As usual, Ainz remained awake, being an undead had its benefits. Though he could force himself to sleep, he found little purpose in doing so. The quiet, reflective moments were enough for him to clear his mind.

Tomorrow, they would take first steps toward the path from which there was no return. Ainz knew that once he embraced the role of a king or emperor, he wouldn't be able to return to a simple life and neither could Buku. She craved the spotlight, the grandeur of power and overwhelming might. She longed to be a queen, the center of it all. Ainz, devoted as ever, couldn't deny his wife this dream. He had always sought to make her happy and if she desired to sit on a throne, he would do everything in his power to give it to her.

The thoughts of the adventure they had experienced this past week lingered in his mind. He found himself reflecting on their newfound existence. As they were now, they wouldn't be able to live simple lives anyway, but with the ability to assume any form they wanted, they could just disappear and start anew if things went wrong. They had learned how to conceal their immense power and how to move unnoticed when necessary. And yet, there was something strangely enthralling about the idea of a life of adventurers, the freedom to roam and to experience.

Ainz pondered this with a sigh. 'Is that just a silly dream? A fantasy of a life not lived, one that I still wish to cling to?' He mused. 'We have become something far greater now, Artemel made sure of that. We were made to be rulers, not adventurers.'

That mysterious entity not only changed their bodies but their minds as well. Yet, Ainz held on to the hope that, despite everything, they were still the people they once were. His love for Buku had only grown deeper, stronger, and more profound than ever before. He clung to that, hoping that she felt the same - that despite their transformation, they could still hold on to each other in the same way they had as humans.

"Can't sleep?" Buku's soft voice broke the silence. Ainz hadn't heard her stir from her slumber in his contemplations.

"I don't need to…" He began, turning to look at her and finding himself momentarily speechless. There she was, standing behind him, her naked silhouette illuminated by the faint light streaming in from the stars and the two moons overhead.

"So, what's on your mind darling?" She asked, her voice a low purr as she approached him, her hips swaying seductively. Ever since she gained this new form, grace came naturally to her. Ainz's gaze lingered on her as she moved, her presence stirring something deep within him despite his undead form.

"Nothing," Ainz lied. "Just thinking about the future."

Buku stopped in front of him, her hand rising to touch the side of his pristine, white skull, her fingers tracing delicate, patterns across the smooth bone. "Ainz…" she gently continued, her touch both tender and firm. "We agreed you wouldn't keep things to yourself. If something worries you, tell me and we'll face it together."

"I am not worried," He replied, his crimson gaze locking with her big blue eyes. But the way her lips pressed into a slight frown told him she wasn't buying it. She could always read him, even when there was no human face to read, no matter the situation.

"I know you," she whispered, her voice softening as her fingers caressed the side of his skull again, this time a reassuring touch. "Even without a human face, I can still see what's going on inside." She pulled his head closer to hers, her lips pressing softly against his exposed teeth in an intimate gesture that was somehow both loving and playful. Ainz, though lacking a physical heart, felt a stirring within him that reminded him of the bond they shared. "If you think we shouldn't do - if you're having second thoughts about ruling, then tell me. We're in this together and we'll figure it out. I don't need a crown or kingdom if it makes you miserable. What I need is you. Your happiness means everything to me."

Her words struck a chord in him, and Ainz knew there was no use trying to hide his thoughts from her, he never could. Her intuition was as sharp as ever, and no mask, skeletal or otherwise, could conceal his inner turmoil from her.

He sighed, his deep, kingly voice now tinged with a vulnerability he rarely let show. "I am happy with you," he admitted, "and if you want to rule, so do I. But… you know we are not humans anymore. Part of me fears that if I fully give in to this, becoming the overlord, the ruler of all, some part of me might be lost, a part I am barely clinging onto for our sake."

"You will still be you, my husband," Buku whispered softly, her voice carrying an almost musical lilt, filled with love and conviction as she leaned into him. Her gaze was gentle but resolute, as if she was willing Ainz to understand the truth of her words. "I am not Akari anymore either. I am Buku now. All that ties me to my old life is Itsuki, and once we get him here, I am ready to discard who I was. I don't believe we will love each other any less if we fully embrace what we are now."

As she spoke, Buku melted into her natural form before his eyes to emphasize the point she was making. Her body melted and changed until her humanoid appearance gave way to her true, natural form, a form he hadn't seen since the beginning of their new lives. She became a pulsating mass of pinkish flesh, an odd and almost alien sight compared to her previous forms, her previously elegant figure now replaced by the strange undulating form she had quickly embraced and covered up since their transformation. Her entire body had a faint sheen, like a gelatinous substance, with hints of movement flickering within the flesh as though it was alive with energy beneath the surface.

She didn't look beautiful in the way humans would think, but to Ainz, she was still captivating. There was something fascinating about her natural form, the way it moved and shifted, both strange and entrancing in its own way, something that would apply regardless of what form she took.

"Come on, let's go to bed," Buku continued, her voice retaining its ethereal echo despite her new shape. A pinkish tendril extended from her body, wrapping gently around Ainz's skeletal hand. "You need to rest your mind, even if you don't feel sleepy. And I… I want to feel you by my side as I sleep."

As Ainz followed her to bed, watching the fluidity of her movements, it finally hit him: he saw her just as beautiful in her natural form, if not more than in her visage. She was his wife, his partner, and she was a monster just like him. She didn't need to look human or even humanoid for him. If his woman lost the ability to shapeshift, he wouldn't worry one bit, he'd still love her nonetheless.

"You should use your natural form more often," Ainz murmured as Buku slid into the bed, her mass settling like a formless, gelatinous blanket besides him.

"I will… for you and only you," she replied, patting his side with a tendril."This form feels like being truly bare, vulnerable. Only my husband should see me like this." She waited for him to drop the robe and lay down before aptly melting into the crevices within his skeletal frame, her six tendrils wrapping around and throughout him. He could feel the warmth of her form, soft yet solid in places as if she were a living embodiment of both comfort and protection. It felt strangely reassuring.

"Shouldn't I do the same?" He asked.

"Do you feel naked as an Overlord?" She teased gently, her echoey voice more enticing than ever.

"Not when I wear clothes. But it does feel like wearing a mask when I use a visage. Being an overlord feels natural to me," He confessed. Taking forms for their delight was something he was fully willing to do, but in his mind, it was like cosplaying, taking on an appearance distinct from their original.

"Then be my overlord in public as well," Buku mumbled, her tendrils gently tightening around him. "And rest a bit."

"I will." He leaned into her warmth, feeling his left arm slightly sink into her form.

Editing by aidan_lo and NabeisWaifu.

Proofreading by IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, Malguis, and aidan_lo.

Link my discord server ( https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2 )

Chapter 22: Volume 1 - Chapter 22

Chapter 22

The hot desert wind raged around Thrall, whipping up tiny cyclones of dust that danced erratically before being consumed by the arid heat of Durotar that consumed all. He sat cross-legged on a wolf skin, the thick pelt insulating him from the rough, sunbaked stone beneath him. Despite the heat, Thrall remained still, his eyes focused on the distant gates of Orgrimmar. From his vantage point atop the mountain, the city appeared almost peaceful, a sprawling bastion of strength nestled within the harsh, unforgiving landscape. But there was no peace in the spirits that surrounded him, none whatsoever. The elemental spirits residing near the capital of the Durator were still highly agitated. The two mysterious figures had frightened them to their cores.

Thrall closed his eyes and breathed deeply, attempting to reach out to the spirits. He could feel them shifting just beneath the surface of reality, disturbed by something even they couldn't fully comprehend. It wasn't just him who felt it, the tauren druids and the troll witch doctors under his employ shared the same sentiment. Ainz and Buku were akin to walking gods, beings of immense power even the wild Gods and Loa were wary about. The spirits spoke of them in whispers, in voices tinged with awe and fear and everything in between. What exactly they were, not even those immaterial beings knew.

The Wild Gods, protectors of the natural world, were beings of immense power, revered by the tauren druids who worshiped them alongside the Earth Mother, the main deity of the bovine race. For the trolls, the Loa served a similar role, most of them animalistic, ancient deities tied to nature, but some more mysterious, more dangerous, like the Loa of death, Bwonsamdi. Even these ancient and potent forces, who thrived on chaos and mystery, seemed… unsettled at their presence. They didn't understand Ainz or Buku, and that uncertainty bred a cautious fear in them, along with an increase in tension across the religious figures of the city.

Thrall's brow furrowed as he considered the implications, the situation was unlike any he had ever faced before. There was only one source left to turn to. Jaina Proudmore, the leader of the human city-state of Thalamor, and one of his closest allies. Ever since their combined forces had defeated the mighty Archimonde during the Burning Legion's invasion, they had kept in contact, keeping each other informed of any major events.

She was a brilliant mage, wise beyond her years, though still young in age. Like Thrall, Jaina was in her mid-twenties, though her youth never detracted from the respect she commanded on the field and in the office. In some ways, she reminded him of his late stepsister, Tari- strong, compassionate, and resolute. He had sent for her a day ago, hoping that her vast knowledge of magic could help shed some light on the nature of these powerful strangers.

The spirits of Durotar weren't the only ones disturbed by their presence, after all, she would probably be able to determine some information as well. The wind shifted slightly, and Thrall inhaled deeply, letting the hot, dry air fill his lungs to its deepest crevices. It carried with it the familiar scent of the desert, the dry earth, distant fires, and the faintest tang of salt from the nearby sea. Yet beneath that, there was a strange sense of anticipation, like the world itself was holding its breath for the things to come.

He tried to focus on the horizon, looking for any sign of Jaina's arrival. She was usually late, but it never worried him. Jaina was nothing if not reliable, and though she might have been delayed by her duties in Theramore, Thrall knew she would eventually come. He trusted her implicitly. She had always been there when he needed her, and she had proven time and again that she was a true ally, one who could be counted on even in the direst of circumstances. He would do the same for her.

Thrall's thoughts drifted momentarily to his childhood, to the family that had raised him. He had been a slave, owned by the cruel Aedelas Blackmore, the commander of orc prison camps who had found him abandoned in the woods as a babe and quickly peddled off to his servant to raise him. Despite his servitude, the human family had treated him well, giving him a sense of belonging in a world that sought to cast him aside for his race and origins. This human family had become his own, teaching him not just the ways of humans, but also how to navigate the complexities of their society. His knowledge of their customs had been crucial in his journey to uniting the orcish clans, and it was that very knowledge that now drew him to seek Jaina's counsel once again.

Thrall closed his eyes, unconsciously clenching his fist, as he recalled the painful memories of the day he learned of Tari's death. Tari, his surrogate sister, his protector. She had shielded him from Blackmore's worst impulses for as long as she could, and yet, in a drunken stupor, the commander had taken her life and presented her decapitated head to him like some sort of grizzly trophy. Thrall had failed her. He had almost single-handedly led the tremendous revolution that freed the orcs from their two-decade containment, but in doing so, he had failed to protect the one person who had always protected him. 'If only I had more foresight,' he thought bitterly. 'Forgive me, Tari.'

A cold gust of wind swept through the mountain, pulling Thrall from his thoughts at the change. His connection to the elements had sharpened over the years, and he could feel the water spirits stirring, agitated by the familiar magic they were sensing. Jaina was near. The air itself seemed to shimmer, growing dense with the crackle of magic, and within seconds, she appeared, just three meters away from him. She had specialized in frost magic; the sorceress was familiar with water elementals often summoning them to aid her in battle, and they too were familiar with her for her prowess on the field.

Clad in a white and purple robe, with a grey corset that pinched her slender waist, Jaina Proudmoore stood with the grace and poise of a leader who had seen more than her fair share of battle. Her long golden hair fluttered in the wind, catching the setting sun's glittering light, and her piercing blue eyes met his with warmth and familiarity. Thrall could easily see why she was considered beautiful by human standards.

"Thrall, good to see you," She greeted, her voice light yet full of concern as her lips curved into a soft smile.

"Likewise, Jaina," Thrall rumbled, standing up to his full height, towering over the human woman. "A lot has happened," he began, his voice steady, though beneath it lay the weight of concern, "and I am in need of your input."

Jaina's expression shifted as she listened, her brows furrowing and her lips pressing into a thin line of worry. She waited for him to continue without uttering a word, her eyes searching his for the depth of the issue.

"Have you heard about Ainz Ooal Gown and Buku Ooal Gown?" Thrall asked, hoping beyond hope that she knew about the pair and could provide the much-needed insight as a mage who dabbled far more in the magics than he.

Jaina frowned, shaking her head slowly, her confusion evident, "No. Those names don't ring a bell. I can't even guess where they could be from if they are humans. This is the first time I've heard such strange names."

Thrall nodded grimly. "They are not human," he explained, his tone carrying a hint of trepidation as he continued. "They are some sort of shape-shifting race. These two… nearly killed Sylvanas when she tried to detain them and when they visited Orgrimmar, they were attacked by a black dragon. They killed the beast in only three blows. Ainz is a powerful magic caster and Buku … well, she was impossibly strong for her size and skilled in combat. They supposedly traveled through Alliance lands without any problems, and what intelligence we can get only supports what we know about the duo."

Jaina's eyes widened slightly, the wheels of her mind clearly turning. Her knowledge of magic was vast, and yet even she seemed perplexed by the nature of these beings. "That sounds like… nothing I've ever encountered," she admitted, her voice thoughtful but tinged with urgency. "Give me a few hours. I will try to find out who… or what they could be," Jaina hastily replied and teleported away before Thrall could say another word.

Thrall exhaled deeply as he returned to his seated position, the wolf skin beneath him soft yet coarse, a reminder of his connection to the wilds and his people. The sweltering heat of the Durotar desert was relentless, but Thrall barely noticed it. His mind was preoccupied with soothing the agitated elemental spirits that writhed around Orgrimmar, still hectic about the duo they had encountered and feared.

With his eyes closed, he focused inward, letting his thoughts and concerns slip away as he communed with the spirits, coaxing them into calmness, soothing them with assurances that things would come out fine. Time, usually something that gnawed at him, became insignificant in his meditative state as he worked, spirit by spirit. Patience was a virtue Thrall was familiar with, one born of long years spent waiting for the right moment to grow, to strike, to unite, and to lead. Now, as the sun moved through the sky, drawing closer to the horizon, Thrall waited again for his work to finish and Jaina to return. His mind touched the ebb and flow of the elemental forces around him, their fury simmering but contained.

Finally, the familiar crackle of magic filled the air, and Jaina reappeared beside him. Her arrival was abrupt, and the moment she materialized, Thrall noticed the change in her immediately. Her breath was ragged and her skin looked noticeably paler than before. She seemed worn, her usual aura of calm control diminished by the urgency of the situation.

"No one knows," she declared without preamble, her voice tinged with frustration and a hint of something darker… fear, perhaps. "My contacts in Stormwind had no idea who they were. These two mysterious figures just appeared out of thin air and performed impressive feats that earned them even the attention of Stormwind's royalty. Even the mages of Dalaran… they had no answers. Their best guess is demons in disguise but it doesn't make sense…" She trailed off, shaking her head as if trying to make sense of her own words.

Thrall furrowed his brow. "Why doesn't it make sense?" he inquired, his deep voice calm but curious, already sensing that the explanation wasn't that simple.

Jaina sighed, sitting down on her cloak with a weariness that seemed to seep into her very bones despite having only spent a day investigating, a short span considering she could spend months at a time on a subject if she found it interesting. She uncorked a small bottle filled with a softly glowing liquid and took a long drink, the light of the liquid casting a faint, otherworldly glow on her tired face as she drank in silence.

"Demons of such power," she began after a moment, "Would need to be summoned with the help of incredibly advanced rituals, and it would require the coordination of a lot of mages. We are talking about the kind of power that leaves unmistakable marks on the land, demonic taint, dark magic residues… And even then, demons of that caliber would be far from subtle. They would have wreaked havoc and possibly tried to start another demon invasion by the Burning Legion upon arrival, causing chaos wherever and whenever possible."

Thrall nodded thoughtfully, "Some of them are cunning and cautious," he remarked quietly, his voice deep with contemplation. "They could be waiting for the right time, choosing not to reveal their full hand."

Jaina shook her head, her expression tight with worry. "If that's the case, then I hope they are not demons, or if they are, that they don't have malicious intent. Azeroth has been through too much already… Another cataclysm might be more than we can handle," she remarked with a tired sigh.

Her words hung heavily in the air, and Thrall couldn't help but think of all that had been lost—of all the countless lives destroyed in the wake of endless wars, of demons, and of the undead scourge. Jaina's pain was palpable; it was etched into the lines of her face and the weariness in her voice. She had endured more than her fair share of heartache… watching Arthas, her beloved, postpone their marriage indefinitely, and then descend into madness, seeing nations consumed by the undead and him killing his own father, and much more. The Burning Legion invading and causing unimaginable damage to her people. Finally, she had to look away as her father, driven by blind hatred and desire for vengeance, attacked the horde and lost his life for it. If only he had listened to her. The weight of all that loss was ever-present, always lurking behind her sharp, determined gaze, weighing on her shoulders.

Thrall's own memories of loss flickered at the edges of his mind. His parents' homeworld, Draenor, shattered and destroyed by the folly of demonic corruption. It was a warning etched into his soul, a constant reminder of what could happen when power was misused and when the thirst for destruction went unchecked. He glanced at Jaina, who sat quietly now, staring off into the distance as the last light of day painted the sky in hues of gold and violet, her bottle empty.

"I hope you're right," Thrall muttered quietly, his voice carrying the weight of his fears. "Azeroth has suffered enough. We can't afford another calamity… My people had seen what happens when a world is pushed to the brink of destruction," His thoughts drifted to Draenor once more, now a husk of its former self, all because of reckless power.

Jaina turned to him, her eyes soft with understanding. "We've both seen too much, Thrall," she softly replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "But we have to believe… that we can still protect this world. We've done it before. We can do it again."

A moment of silence passed between them, heavy with unspoken fears and shared burdens. The world they fought so hard to protect was always on the edge, teetering between salvation and ruin. And yet, here they were, still standing, still fighting for their nations, their people, and themselves.

<X>

It was time to become the overlord. Ainz stood in the dimly lit room, the air thick with a palpable sense of power from the many preparations he had done. The temperature dropped a few degrees the moment he donned his midnight black robe, its fabric rippling as if alive, charged with dark magic that emanated power and fear. Shadows writhed around the stone floor with every movement, as if in awe of his existence, eager for his attention. His skeletal frame, though devoid of flesh, carried an undeniable weight, one not of bone and marrow but of complete dominion and absolute power. The robe's long sleeves fanned out, black as the night sky, engulfing the light as if it could never break free from his grasp.

He placed his hand next to the ring collection and slid the rings onto his bone fingers, each one sparkling with arcane light. His guildmates' stored powers were contained in each ring, mementos of a time when Nazarick was more than just his realm but also a place he shared with his now-lost allies. He couldn't help but get a little homesick for them as he decked his fingers with the glittering gems, embedded in the game's finest metals. But that moment of nostalgia was short-lived; sentimentality cannot exist in the mind of a king who is about to seize control of the world.

Finally, Ainz grasped for his reign's most powerful symbol which had been sitting in his inventory since he arrived in Azeroth - the Guild Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown. The item gleamed with an unearthly brilliance, like gold but far more terrible, as if it had been made in a fire that no mortal had or should have ever seen. The staff's head was formed like seven writhing snakes, with their bodies twisting and intertwining as they rose to the summit in unison. Each snake clutched a unique gem in its jaws, each one glowing softly with forbidden magic. They pulsed as if they were alive, their eyes flashing with the ferocity of a predator about to strike upon those who opposed their wielder's might.

In Yggdrasil, this staff had been more than just a weapon. It had been the very heart of Nazarick - a symbol of the guild's essence and unity. To lose it was to lose everything the guild had stood and fought for, and so, during the game, Ainz had never dared to wield it on the battlefield, only ever in private matches and ceremonial situations. It had been the anchor that secured the guild's base, the protection of their entire domain. But now, in this new world of Azeroth, its status had changed. The staff was no longer an intangible entity bound by the game's rules; it had become a physical object, and its limitless power could finally be realized before his very eyes.

He gripped it tightly in his right hand, feeling its power pour through him like a raging river. It was thrilling to see how much the staff could do. Ainz knew he could summon five types of elementals of immense power, construct a near-impregnable magic shield around himself, cause massive earthquakes, and shoot down pillars of fire from the sky that could burn towns to ashes. The downside was that each spell could be used only twice a day, resetting every midnight. Lastly, the staff let him use [Dimensional Lock, a spell that isolated an area from the rest of the world, preventing the opponent from fleeing. These were no longer abstract game concepts - they were actual, physical tools of devastation, tools at his command and disposal.

He admired his reflection in the mirror-like surface of the staff. The burning crimson flames in his eye sockets flickered as they focused on the image. The spotless white skull stared back at him, devoid of human expression but filled with dreadful majesty. The staff tapped the floor with a loud thunk, a resounding echo vibrating off the thick walls. His dark robe swirled around him, the hem brushing the floor with the grace of a monarch surveying his dominion.

"A proper look for an Emperor," Buku gushed, her voice full of approval as she praised her husband. She was surrounded by a sea of discarded plate armor, their metallic clatter echoing through the room as if a war had just been fought over fashion choices alone. The rejected sets of armor, despite their divine origins, lay strewn about like casualties of a war against fashion, each piece deemed unworthy of the upcoming event.

Ainz, dressed in his midnight-black robe that appeared to soak up the light, nodded in agreement. The robe, together with the ominous Guild Staff in his right hand, emanated a sense of absolute power and darkness. Ainz couldn't help but feel proud of the appearance he'd created for himself. "Thank you. I did have a sense of style when it came to this form."

Buku, meantime, was preoccupied with her own war, "Some," she countered, her voice full of faux modesty. "But I will shamelessly take some credit for helping you pick this look back in the game," Her lips and cheeks twisted in a smug smile.

"Credit where credit's due," Ainz replied, his tone gracious. "You did help. But you should do the same with your new look. You know we have only about half an hour left before the fortress fades," He reminded her.

"I am trying!" Buku grumbled, her frustration clear as she ripped off yet another set of armor. The sound of metal screeching against the floor reverberated throughout the room, adding to the frenzied atmosphere. "I need to pick carefully, you know." The array of divine-tier sets, each more powerful and elaborate than the last, only served to confound her decision. They were Artemel's gifts, but even divinity couldn't protect them from Buku's harsh examination of functionality and fashion.

Ainz observed with a little sense of enjoyment as Buku threw away a particularly intricate armor set. "What was wrong with the last one? It did look good on you," he asked in a perplexed tone.

"The shoulder plates were ugly and the boob plate was unflattering," Buku explained with an exasperated sigh. "Picking a badass look is so hard."

"Boob plate?" Ainz eyed her with increasing amusement, "Isn't it impractical?"

Buku shot him a glare, though there was a hint of a smile playing on her lips, "It's about style, Ainz. I need to look great in my main set. It would have been so much easier if I was a caster., I could pick a flowing robe dress with a split." she paused as if reading his thoughts in real-time. "Not a word!"

"I wasn't thinking anything bad," Ainz swiftly responded, offering his free hand in mock surrender. The idea of Buku as a caster in a flowing garment was humorous, but he prudently kept his ideas to himself. Besides, a little part of him delighted in that only he would now ever see her in such a form.

"Aha, now what do you think of this one?" Buku inquired, entering the light wearing a black plate set with red embellishments. The metal hugged her body wonderfully, actuating both her femininity and power as it shimmered when she spun around.

"It looks great on you," Ainz remarked, clearly impressed.

"You say that about… nope you're right on this one," Buku agreed with a chuckle, turning slowly in front of a mirror. She inspected herself from every angle, her armor sparkling as if it were more than simply a protective shell but also a fashion statement. "It's perfect. Now it's onto just the weapon and shield."

Ainz resisted the urge to sigh, a familiar sensation rising within him - one of the many remnants of his once-human self that still occasionally surfaced despite his undead state. Time was slipping away like sand through an hourglass and while he possessed untold power over reality, patience was a resource that even he found challenging to gather when his wife was involved. As many husbands and boyfriends had described, of their valiant tales while their significant others went shopping for new fashion. His [Create Fortress] spell was about to expire, yet Buku stood before the mirror like an artist before a blank canvas, shifting through weapons with the intensity of someone deciding the fate of the world.

Buku's gaze shifted between a flurry of swords, her fingertips brushing over the hilts of at least twenty swords before she picked a large flamberge, hefting it in her grip. It was an intimidating piece of metal, the kind of weapon that would look more at home in the hands of a brute giant than someone slender like Buku. The wavy blade looked impossibly sharp and the reddish hue surrounding the weapon gave it a sinister look, complimenting her overall appearance. Additionally, it held a permanent fire enchant, not only giving it a fiery glow but adding fire damage to each strike, burning what it touched upon command. Despite its imposing size, Buku swung it as if it weighed no more than a feather, the blade ripping through the space around her with deadly accuracy.

"That one's a bit much, don't you think?" Ainz couldn't help but quip, his bony visage failing to convey the delighted smirk that would have accompanied the remarks in his previous existence.

"Too much?" Buku echoed, raising an eyebrow as she admired the dreadful weapon, holding it above her head. "I prefer the term 'just right.'"

She coupled the flamberge with a kite shield crafted in a similar style: black with red accents and a large threatening spike jutting from the middle. It was the ideal match to the flamberge, emphasizing her image as a symbol of strength and authority, of power and destruction. Ainz had to admit, that despite her occasional moments of indecision, she had an affinity for the dramatics.

"All set!" She proudly announced, her lips curled into a delighted grin. To finish the look, she tossed a white fox coat over her armor, its thick, pale fur a stark contrast to the smooth, dark metal beneath. The coat elevated her appearance, reminding Ainz of ancient queens who led armies into battle in media. The freezing mountain breeze nipped at them, but the fox fur kept her warm, a practical and stylish touch.

As they left the fortress, the bright morning sun greeted them, its light showering the snow-covered peaks in a brilliant light. The air was crisp, the kind that could cool one's lungs with a single breath, and the fortress that had been their refuge faded before their eyes, leaving no trace that it had ever existed, not even the snow where it stood moments before being disturbed.

Buku looked at the fading stronghold before turning to him with a sarcastic smile. "You know, as beautiful as that view is, I wouldn't mind a little less snow next time."

"Have you picked the gate location?" She continued, casually twirling her flamberge with one hand, her other hand absentmindedly patting down the fox fur cloak.

"Not yet. It's unwise to appear in one of the human cities dressed like this." Ainz glanced at their intimidating appearances - Buku, clothed in threatening armor, and himself, a skeletal overlord bursting with power. "We'd cause a panic. So… I'll try to locate a remote area somewhere in Westfall. According to some more recent sources, the leader of the crime cartel was hiding out somewhere in the fertile plains. The border province is far from Stormwind, making the local farms easy pickings for criminals."

"Just pick an empty spot at random," Buku suggested, kneeling down in the snow to mold it into some sort of figurine, quickly forming a mini snowman. "We'll sniff out the lowlifes soon enough, and from there, it's just a matter of persuasion, right?"

Ainz activated [Remote Viewing, zooming his vision high above the cloud line and moving his point of vision southwest. The landscape of Azeroth unfolded underneath him like a living map. Soon enough, the green, rolling fields of Westfall came into view, stretching forever with golden wheat flowing in the breeze, orange pumpkins and a rainbow of other crops dotting the landscape in their splendor. Small houses littered among them like forgotten remnants of a once-thriving land, occasionally congregating into small villages. His eyes swept across the plains until he came across an isolated area of grass far removed from civilization.

"This will do," he declared out loud and cast [Gate]. The swirling portal sprang to life, shimmering with arcane energy, and within moments, the cold, snowy mountain peaks were replaced by the endless sea of grass.

They stood in the heart of Westfall now, surrounded by the warm hues of the countryside. The sounds of nature greeted them: Small animals moved around subtly disturbing the vegetation, birds of prey flew above their heads searching for prey. But the local nature wasn't their concern. Now Ainz needed to locate the Defias members and get the location of their leader out of them by any means necessary.

EDITED BY: NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, Malguis, and aidan_lo, I AM THE STRING CUTTER

Link my discord server (https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2)

Chapter 23: Volume 1 - Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Jett sat hunched at the edge of the clearing, his knees tightly tucked against his chest, his scrawny frame partially concealed by a torn cloak that barely kept off the early morning chill. The damp grass was uncomfortable to the touch, but he was accustomed to it; it stuck to him like a second skin. Despite what they had seen, his eyes remained wide and innocent as he watched the traffic through dense shrubbery. His eyelids felt heavy, and his eyesight was blurry due to sheer boredom and exhaustion. He yawned, attempting to quell the dull ache that had settled in his back after sitting in one position and place for so long.

At fourteen, he was smaller than most boys his age, with a slender, wiry body that had not yet filled out with muscle. His skin was pale, almost sickly white, with subtle dark circles under his eyes from many sleepless nights in a row. His brown hair draped in unkempt strands around his face, tips greasy and uneven from weeks without washing, not rinsed even once. When he talked, his voice remained soft and hesitant, not yet hardened into the harsh, dominating bark of a man.

The path spread out before him like a snake weaving through the forest, filled with niches and crevices to be inspected or used. The trees stood tall on either side, their branches swinging effortlessly in the breeze, casting lingering shadows across the singular dirt path. Occasionally, a cart would pass by, pulled by tired-looking horses, its drivers completely oblivious of the tiny kid lurking just beyond their view as they went on their way. But now the road was silent, and Jett felt boredom creep up into his bones.

Nothing ever happened. Not on days like this, anyway. Days when the world seemed to forget that he even existed, like most days.

He yawned again, louder this time, and cast a sideways glance at the others in his group. Darrel, Winstor, and Moore lay spread in the tiny tent they had set up, snoozing lightly beneath their few ragged blankets. They had the luxury of sleep. His gut twisted with envy, and a bitter smirk appeared on his lips. Lucky bastards, he mused. Jett was not given such things. As the youngest member, he was required to maintain watch - another unwritten rule of the Brotherhood. You earned your place by enduring hardship. Only when another took up the place were you spared of it. Nobody had to say it out, but the manner in which they stared at him said it all. Too young to lead, too small to fight, yet sufficiently grown up to be of service. That was his lot given by life, nothing more.

His thoughts wandered to his family - not the one he had currently, but the one that had discarded him like garbage. His father, whose palms were as rough as the earth he dug, had little use for a son who couldn't do his part on the family farm and could only act as another mouth to feed. His elder brothers, strong, harsh, and quick to remind Jett of his worthlessness, had made certain of this. They were always determined to take on the most difficult chores to show their worth to the family, whereas Jett was assigned the crumbs, the worthless and dirty ones. When his family ultimately abandoned him, his eldest brother led the charge in persuading their parents that their farm had no room for dead weight.

Jett clenched his jaw, feeling a hollow pit of rage and hatred rising within him. His fists clenched unintentionally, nails digging into the soft skin of his hands, threatening to draw blood. When the Defias Brotherhood took him in, he was desperate, famished, scavenging for scraps, stealing what little he could from the streets, and a few times getting beaten to within an inch of his life. He had even tried his luck in the town of Sentinel Hill, but the local marshal had wanted to send him to the stockades after he was caught stealing food. He would've done anything in order to prove himself, but nothing had gone his way.

He could and did do so to the Brotherhood. He had shown his value by leading them back to his family's property in the darkest hour of the night, leading them with a bitter precision that belied his age and rage. He remembered holding a blade in his hand and feeling his elder brother's blood dripping on his fingertips. His resolve had faltered a little as he witnessed his mother and eldest brother's wife scream and wail as the men assaulted them to death, the memory remaining etched in his mind. His resolve had been shaken then, something inside him recoiling from the cruelty. But they earned it, didn't they? That's what he told himself in the quiet moments when remorse was gnawing at him like a rodent. They had all deserved it, every last one of them.

At least they had spared his sister. The Brotherhood had taken her in, just like they had him. She rose in rank promptly, marrying one of the upper-level leaders and adopting the Brotherhood's ruthless mindset as she slew and seduced her way through life. Last he heard, she was doing well in her new life, far from the rubble of their previous one and far from his current rank.

Jett let out a long sigh, watching as the wind gently stirred the bushes in front of him. Life was cruel and everyone was out to get you unless you fought back. The Brotherhood was his sanctuary now. They were outcasts, just like him, abandoned by the world and left to fend for themselves. There was power in numbers, even if individually they were weak. And they had plenty of numbers; the powerful were always all-too-eager to emphasize just how worthless the rest of them were after all.

He stole another glance at Darrel, Winstor, and Moore. Their breathing was deep and even while they snuggled together around themselves as they slept. Jett envied them for their ability to drift off through everything and find calm in the midst of their troubled lives. With a soft groan, Jett stretched his arms above his head, feeling the muscles in his back protest from sitting for so long. His stomach growled, reminding him that it had been a while since his last meal, a stale piece of bread stolen from a passing farmer yoinked off the back of his cart. Hunger gnawed at him continually, however it was a familiar ache that he had grown to ignore.

Jett slumped back against a tree trunk, letting out an exaggerated groan as he stared ahead at the vacant road. The forest's quiet was terrible. A gust of wind would sometimes rustle the bushes or a bird would squawk from the treetops, but the rest of the time was quiet. His eyes were weary with boredom, and the rustling of leaves seemed like a lullaby meant to send him to sleep, enticing him to let down his guard.

'Maybe the next cart will have some booze.' He sighed and gazed at the road with deep longing. He could already imagine it: a big wagon rumbling along the path, loaded with barrels of booze or ale, the property of some rich merchant who had been too stingy to hire proper guards to keep costs down. Something strong enough to bring him out of this painful routine, to spice up what he could see and think. He pictured his first sip burning its way down into a warm fire in his gut. 'This is so boring.'

Days like these were the worst. The wait. The unending, mind-numbing wait for something - anything - to happen. On the odd occasion, a wagon or two would pass by, but half of the time it contained little more than spoiled bread or other useless junk that hardly warranted the hassle, mostly farmers or poor merchants with little worth to steal. The few good hauls they'd managed to make previously had at least enabled them to return to Moonbrook with enough cash to keep Jett from going insane. That was his one solace: the prospect of Moonbrook at the conclusion of this perpetual boredom.

The notion of getting his share of the loot put a slight, sly smile on his lips. He already knew what he was going to spend it on. Moonbrook wasn't much, but there was one comfort in that dreary place - Lira. Jett adored the girl, despite the fact that she was barely a year older than him. She had a way of calming his fears, if only for the night he paid for. Her presence soothed his worn spirit, and he would fall into her with the urgent desire of a drowning man reaching for breath. Her sweet words and touch let him forget about the hardships of his existence, like the hunger and the cold, replacing it with soothing and temporary feelings of warmth.

Jett allowed himself to fantasize about the future during quiet times such as this. A future where he wasn't keeping guard for hours at a time, freezing his ass off in the woods, waiting for some rich fool to enter their territory. Perhaps if he rose high enough in the Brotherhood's ranks, he could afford a proper home. Not a large one, just something tiny and comfy. Somewhere he could relax after a long day of work. Maybe - just maybe - he could persuade Lira to come with him and make it their home. She would keep him warm at night, he would keep her safe, and together they would be able to live a life free of the worries that were now consuming him, bit by bit.

Jett stifled yet another yawn, stretching his arms as far as they could before letting them hang limply at his sides. His bones felt stiff, as if the dull boredom had penetrated to his very marrow. Anything would have been preferable to sitting here, waiting for wagons that never arrived, even preparing for a raid. The sun hung lazily overhead, creating long shadows among the trees, as if it, too, had become tired of this monotonous day.

'Can't some rich fool wander in and give us a big payday?" Jett pondered as he stared down the dusty road with a half-lidded gaze. His fingers twitched, longing to wrap around the handle of a purse loaded with coins. He craved action, anything to stir his blood, something to make him feel alive again. 'I want to do something!'

Of course, there was an old saying: 'Careful what you wish for, it might come true,' At that moment, Jett's wish was fulfilled, but in a way that made his stomach drop. His daydreams faded instantly as his instincts shot like fireworks at something new. His body tensed, his hand gripping his worn mace. His senses sharpened, trained on the road ahead. 'Finally,' he thought with a spark of excitement, 'Maybe it's time to get some action.'

At first, it seemed like the air itself had bent and twisted in front of his eyes. The ground darkened unnaturally, and a cold breeze slashed through the heat of the afternoon like a knife. His eyes widened as a swirling black portal emerged in the middle of the road. He could almost hear it sucking the very light from its surroundings, devouring the air and guzzling the monotony. It was like a wound in the fabric of reality, widening with each passing second before his very eyes.

"Oi, Something's happening!" Jett's voice cracked as he scrambled back, his heart thudding with anticipation. This was it, the moment of action he'd been waiting for. His cry shook his three colleagues awake, sending the elder men scrambling to their feet, wiping sleep from their eyes and searching for their weapons. Darrel, the group's eldest member, mumbled something about Jett being a paranoid brat, but even he paused when he saw the dark portal.

The swirling mass of dark energy didn't surprise them. These sorts of magical occurrences weren't exactly common, but when you lived the life they did - cutthroats and mercenaries for the Defias Brotherhood - you got used to seeing strange things. Magic, necromancy, undead, they'd seen it all before. This was just more magic of the rich. And rich meant they had a target.

Its appearance didn't inspire dread … No, it was more like a bell ringing to announce an opportunity to him. Jett watched eagerly as the portal stabilized and out stepped two figures. A grin split his face as his mind raced with thoughts of loot and rewards. 'An undead and a warrior… Why do the pretty ones need to be messed up in the head,' he grimly mused, hefting his mace, ready for a battle.

First came a skeletal undead. There was no mistaking him - a tall, gaunt figure dressed in expensive robes. His skeletal frame was adorned with a staff so intricately carved that Jett's greedy eyes couldn't help but linger on it, devouring its beauty. The staff was capped with glowing crystals of various colors radiating power. Jett knew instantly that if he managed to return the thing to their boss, he would receive more gold than he'd ever seen in their lives, possibly even elevated up a few ranks in the forces. The necromancer moved slowly and purposefully, as if he had all the time in the world, and why wouldn't he? The undead weren't concerned about time like the living did, they had eternity to do what they wanted.

Then came the woman. Jett's brows furrowed as his gaze fixed on her. She wasn't what he had expected. She was beautiful... no, stunning didn't even begin to describe her - with flowing, dark hair and eyes that seemed to pierce right through you. She donned full plate armor, black as the night, trimmed in fiery red that shone faintly in the early dawn. It appeared custom-made, evidently outrageously expensive, and exuded an air of menace about it.

Jett's heart raced because of her potential, not her otherworldly beauty. That armor was undeniably valuable by itself, worth hundreds of gold coins, if not more when brought to the right superiors, and possibly had strong magic to enhance his abilities in the future. And what if they could capture the woman alive? He could imagine the kind of price a woman like her would fetch - no doubt the brotherhood's leaders would want to keep a pretty toy like her and would pay absurd sums for a chance to spread the shapely legs that came with such a pretty face.

With his resolve steeled, he joined his peers and surged forward, leaping out from his place. Their feet pounded against the cold soil, their weapons gleaming in the morning light. There was no fear in Jett's heart, just a surge of adrenaline as they charged without a care in the world. The armored woman slowly cocked her head, as though she had sensed them long before they made their move, her expression unreadable. For a split second, Jett could've sworn she looked amused, yet this only fueled him as he thought of turning that smugness into fear. He swung his mace high above his head and prepared to strike.

<X>

It came as no surprise that the thugs barely hesitated when they saw him and Buku emerge from the portal. In a world driven by greed and desperation, self-preservation often took a backseat to the allure of wealth, and to these bandits, all they saw was a massive payday falling into their lap, nothing more. The gleam of Buku's impeccable armor and the glint of Ainz's breathtaking staff appeared to drown out any sensible ideas of self-preservation within the men. And so, without a second thought, the bandit camp erupted into a frenzy as the Defias Brotherhood thugs charged recklessly towards them, weapons drawn, like moths to a flame.

The first to reach them swung his blade with all his might, his gaze fixated on Buku's unprotected head. The blade rang out with a hollow metallic clang as it rebounded off her skull, leaving no not even a scratch. The thug stopped and examined his weapon in surprise, his hands trembling slightly from the vibration. "Oi, What the hell is this!?" he exclaimed in surprise. It was as if he had hit an anvil with a butter knife.

Buku didn't even flinch, her eyes drifting to the insignificant brute. "We only need one or two for questioning, right, darling?" She casually inquired, her tone cool and casual, as if the bandit's attacks were nothing more than an unpleasant buzz in her ear despite their incoming attempts. She didn't even lift her weapon, and her tone was humorous, masking the danger beneath her cool exterior.

Ainz calmly observed the scene with the relaxed detachment of a god surveying the foolishness of mortals, knowing the immense power difference between them. His gaze flicked to Buku, then to the struggling thugs. "We can always find more," he responded, his voice reverberating with that deep, regal timbre that could chill the spine of even the bravest of souls. "If these ones do not provide anything useful." One of the smarter goons, realizing the grim reality unfolding before him, spun on his heels and bolted, his feet pounding the ground in frantic desperation. But he had barely made it a few paces before Ainz simply flipped his bony wrist at him. A fireball lit in his palm, emitting an eerie, otherworldly brilliance as it flew into the air with an unsettling whoosh. It struck the fleeing thug in the back, and the man was instantly engulfed in flames, burnt to ash without a single scream in the blink of an eye.

Seeing one of their own killed instantly made the remaining three come to their senses. The aroma of burnt flesh filled the air, and for the first time, the gleam of horror shone through their greed-clouded thoughts. They exchanged glances before turning to face Ainz, their weapons hanging limply in their hands. This was no ordinary opponent. This was completely beyond their comprehension and their lives were in the hands of the woman and the undead monster.

"H-hey let's make a deal… Alright?… W-what do you want to know?" The group's leader fumbled, his voice betraying his growing panic. He still held his curved blade, though the hand gripping it was visibly shaking now as the others gathered behind him. His dark-brown eyes, filled with an amalgam of fear and despair, focused intently on Ainz. The man was lanky, his frame thin and wiry beneath his tight dark leather gear, and his face was half-hidden behind a blood-red silk bandana that now seemed more ridiculous than intimidating.

Ainz let out a low, rumbling chuckle that rang across the clearing. "A deal?" His voice was filled with mockery. He cocked his head slightly, the flames in his eye sockets flaring with merciless satisfaction. "What makes you think you have any bargaining power here?" He let out a cruel laugh to play up his evil undead image, flame practically flying out of his skull. "You will give us all the information we need no matter what you choose to do… Alive or dead? It makes no difference."

Beside him, Buku couldn't help but roll her eyes at her husband's theatrics. He was really leaning into the whole evil overlord persona today, wasn't he? She had to admit, though, he was good at it. He had been good at it in-game, he had kept it afterward during their numerous roleplaying sessions, and it had only grown even more chuunibyou here. Nonetheless, she had her own role to play, and while Ainz had mastered the 'bad cop' act, she had taken on the mantle of the 'good cop' - or, at least, something slightly less horrifying.

"My husband," Buku began, casting a sideways glance at Ainz with a smirk, "can extract information by directly destroying your brain while you are still alive and then raise you as mindless husks, but I prefer to give humans a chance to prove their worth." Her voice was smooth, almost sweet, as she shifted her stance, adopting a more relaxed posture, swaying her hips.

She tried not to laugh at how ridiculous it was that she would be seen as the "good guy" in this situation, no matter what they did or schemed up. Ainz was a more terrifying presence by simply existing and there was nothing she could do about it. It was part of the fun though, a game they played while the mortals trembled. The bandits weren't about to test her, though. They may not have understood the full depth of her words, but the casual way she mentioned brain destruction and zombification was enough to shake even the hardiest of souls.

"Whatever you need, lady," one of the other bandits whimpered in a soft, high-pitched voice. He was a short man, his eyes betraying primal fear as he sheathed his mace and inched ever so slowly away from Ainz. Apparently, the intimidating skeletal overlord was too much for him, and he sought the relative comfort of Buku's presence. The irony wasn't lost on her, this man was choosing her as the 'safer' option, when in reality, she could tear him limb from limb with even greater efficiency than Ainz given their close range. Her sharpened blade could piece his skull faster than his lightning spells at this distance of just a few meters.

"You will lead us to the leader of Defias Brotherhood," Ainz demanded. As he spoke, his [Aura of Despair] began to seep out of his impressive frame like a dark mist, thickly covering the ground. He had set it on the terror-inducing level one - a bit overkill for pitiful creatures like these bandits.

"W-we don't know who runs Defias. No one knows., The group's leader stammered in response. His voice was a pitiful squeak, a far cry from the brashness with which he had first addressed them.

Ainz's patience had its limits. He took a slow, deliberate step toward the man and grabbed him by the neck, lifting him. His bony fingers closed around the man's neck with terrifying ease. The bandit's eyes bulged, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as Ainz held him aloft with chilling composure while his legs kicked uselessly beneath him, his hands clawing at the iron grip that held him helpless. He and Buku had agreed to test out other interrogation methods before he used [Dominate, as relying on one spell wasn't a sound strategy and more diverse methods for extraction of information were needed.

"Then I have no reason to keep you alive," he stated, his tone final and devoid of empathy, flames flaring up from his eyes. "You will serve me as an undead."

Before the frightened leader could even register the full horror of what was about to happen to him, another thug saw his opportunity to flee. The man bolted, his heart pounding in his chest as he sprinted through their pitiful camp, desperate to escape the nightmare that had descended upon them. He thought, perhaps foolishly, that if the undead overlord's attention was occupied elsewhere, he could slip away unnoticed.

But he hadn't counted on Buku. Like a specter, she appeared in front of the fleeing bandit, her movements as fluid and swift as the ever-present wind. Before the man even realized what was happening, Buku's enormous flamberge swung in a graceful arc, its crimson blade gleaming in the dim light allotted by the canopies. With a single, effortless motion, she severed the thug's legs from his body in a clean sweep. The man sank to the ground in a matter of seconds, his shrieks filling the air as the scent of burning flesh wafted up from the cauterized stumps, legs toppling beside him.

Buku's expression remained nonchalant as she stood over the writhing, legless man. She glanced over at Ainz, who observed the scene with deliberate indifference. "End him!" Ainz ordered Buku, extending his arm towards the screaming man.

Buku smirked in response and stomped on the man's head, crushing his skull with a sickening crack, followed by the wet squelch of brains and blood splattering across the ground. "Dammit, I got brains on my boots." She grunted as she tried to wipe the brain matter off her boots against the clothing of the now-lifeless corpse of the bandit.

Ainz watched the scene with a bemused expression. Despite his undead state, there was something oddly comforting about Buku's practicality. Her irritation over the most mundane inconveniences, even in the midst of violence and death, was almost endearing to him. "You could have used a weapon for this insect," Ainz commented dryly, flicking his fingers lazily as dark magics swirled around his fingers, flying towards his wife. The corpse rapidly melted into a black goo. From the bubbling ooze, a new shape emerged - a large, rotting vulture with patches of decaying feathers and hollow eyes that glowed faintly with necromantic energy. He had wanted to try out the new spells that he had gained with the freedom from the game's constricting system, and now was the perfect time to do so.

"I know I know. Dealing with these mortals is such a chore. I don't know why I want to be merciful." Buku stepped back, folding her arms as she watched the grotesque creature spread its wings.

"Find any Defias camps and report to me immediately," Ainz ordered the undead vulture. It gave a low, guttural growl before taking flight with disturbing speed, vanishing into the shadows of the tree canopies as though it had never been there.

The clearing, once teeming with the bandits' reckless greed, had become a graveyard of broken bodies and shattered egos. Ainz tightened his grasp on the bandit's neck as he finished crushing the man's windpipe with ease, the horrible sound of bones splintering beneath his undead fingers barely registering to his always-moving mind. With a flick of his wrist, he discarded the corpse on the ground. "We should finish here and move on. Sooner or later, we will find someone who knows."

Satisfied, Ainz turned his attention to the last remaining thug. The boy, no more than sixteen by the look of him, had collapsed to his knees, trembling like a leaf in a storm. His breath came in ragged gasps as he stared up at Ainz, his eyes wide with terror. His face was dirty and streaked with tears, a pitiful sight, and his hands were clasped together in a desperate plea for mercy.

"I-I'll lead you to my boss," the boy stammered, his voice cracking under the weight of his fear. "He will know who is above him. P-please, spare me."

"Where can I find your superior?" Ainz asked as he reached out with his skeletal hand, gripping the edge of the boy's mask and pulling it off with a swift motion.

"He runs Moonbrook, w-we need to travel south. I-I won't run just please spare me!" He continued to whimper.

Ainz let out a slow, almost disappointed sigh. "A child. How pathetic," he remarked. Beneath it was a pale, gaunt face that bore the unmistakable signs of youth and malnutrition. The boy's eyes were wide and sunken, his lips quivering as he fought to form coherent words against his fear. His whole body seemed to shrink under Ainz's withering gaze.

Beside him, Buku approached, her flamberge held casually at her side. The large sword gleamed ominously in the fading light, its jagged edges glistening with traces of blood from her earlier kill. She glanced down at the boy with the same look one might give a particularly annoying insect, "We know where our next stop is now. We don't need this little criminal anymore." She raised her sword slightly, the blade catching the dying light of the evening sun.

The boy's face turned a sickly shade of white as Buku approached, his eyes widening in sheer terror. He clasped his hands together in prayer, his voice shaking as he began to plead for his life. "Light, please spare me. I will lead an honest life. I won't kill or steal, please save me!" he cried, his voice rising to a desperate pitch.

For a moment, Buku paused, her blade hovering inches from the boy's throat. The heat coming from the sword began burning his soft flesh, only escalating the boy's fervent prayer and torrent of tears. "Pathetic indeed. I wonder how much suffering this little thug has caused. The light won't come if you beg," She chuckled, the sound as sharp and cutting as her sword. "No boy. You have to believe you deserve it. But I suspect you know deep down that you don't."

As much as she wanted to feel sympathy for the boy who likely joined the cartel because of his hard life, she felt nothing. The boy had made his choices and embraced a life of crime. Thus he could be treated as an obstacle, a witness who could cause problems if they were to let him go.

Something snapped in the boy then. His fear transformed into a raw, animalistic desperation. He scrambled backward, slipping in the dirt, before somehow finding his footing in the loose dirt. Without thinking, he turned and bolted, his heart pounding in his chest, driven by the primal instinct to survive. His legs pumped wildly beneath him, his arms flailing as he made a mad dash for the tree line. He didn't even glance back; the only thing that mattered was getting as far away from these monsters as soon as possible.

Buku watched him run with mild amusement. "Should we spare him?" She asked.

Ainz regarded the boy's retreating figure with calculating indifference, "I don't see a reason why. It's safer to dominate him and let him guide us." he replied.

Buku shrugged. "Do you want to get him or should I?" She asked casually. She could have caught up to him in a heartbeat if she exerted even a fraction of her power, but she was more than happy to let Ainz handle it if he so desired.

"I'll get him," Ainz replied calmly. He then teleported right in front of the boy who had no other choice but to crash into him as he couldn't change his momentum at the last moment, being untrained and lacking muscle. He bounced back and fell to the ground, dazed, his wide, terrified eyes staring up at the imposing figure before him.

Ainz wasted no time. He raised his hand and cast [Dominate]. A faint, eerie glow surrounded his bony fingers, and the boy's eyes glazed over as the spell took hold, doing exactly as it said in its name. His mind was no longer his own, completely in the control of Ainz.

The boy stood stiffly, his posture robotic as he awaited orders. Ainz's voice was calm and collected, but there was a hint of satisfaction in it. "You will guide us," he commanded.

When Ainz rejoined Buku a few moments later, the two exchanged a brief look. Ainz waved his hand once more, summoning a [Gate] to their next location: Moonbrook.

Stepping through the portal, they were immediately greeted by the sight of a desolate town. Moonbrook was a rundown, decrepit place, with buildings that looked like they hadn't seen maintenance in years. Rotting wood and crumbling stone made up most of the structures, and the few residents who dared to venture outside quickly scurried back into the shadows as Ainz and Buku appeared.

The moment they emerged from the [Gate, a larger group of Defias thugs surrounded them. They were clad in their usual ragtag assortment of armor, most of it stolen or scavenged, and their faces were obscured by their signature blood-red bandanas. Despite their numbers, there was a palpable sense of unease in the air. They knew, at least on some instinctive level, that they were out of their depth.

"Is your boss among them?" Ainz asked the boy.

The boy, still under the effects of [Dominate, shook his head mechanically. "No, Master," he stated in a dull monotone. "He is in that building." The boy pointed at a two-story wooden building that stood at the far end of the town. The building was slightly more intact than the others, but it was still worn and weathered, its once-sturdy frame now sagging with age and neglect. The faint flicker of torchlight could be seen through the cracks in the shutters, and the sounds of muffled voices drifted through the air.

"[Chain Lighting]" Ainz cast a spell with a lazy movement of his arm. His ability to control the magic grew with each cast and he could easily make the lightning jump through all the thugs with the fraction of a thought. The scent of charred flesh filled the air as their bodies convulsed in midair, eyes wide with shock and pain before collapsing into smoldering heaps around him, blackened and unrecognizable. The entire affair took mere seconds.

As they fell in a circle around them, the remaining Brotherhood members hid away, hoping that by cowering in silence, they could avoid the fate of their comrades. The two guards who had been standing watch outside the larger building dropped their weapons and fled without so much as a glance back, leaving the way forward wide open.

The building the boy had pointed to earlier now loomed before them, a weathered relic of what must have once been a proud structure, a fine two-story house. Its wooden frame creaked ominously in the wind, sagging in places as though it had given up the will to remain standing. Inside, the dim flicker of candles cast long, distorted shadows across the goods and stolen treasures that littered the room. The smell of dust and mildew hung heavy in the air, mixing with the stench of old sweat.

Ainz and Buku strode inside without hesitation. At the far end of the room sat an older man, grizzled and scarred, behind a makeshift desk cluttered with half-empty flasks and ill-gotten loot. Beside him stood two hulking brutes, their muscles rippling beneath layers of poorly maintained armor, each gripping a heavy spiked mace in their meaty hands. The entire room was one large chamber, its windows boarded up and blocked by stacks of crates, allowing only the flickering candlelight to illuminate the grim scene.

"The hell is an Undead doing in here? Guards, kill that thing!" The older man barked, jumping to his feet, and ordering the two men to charge.

The two brutes sprang into action immediately, charging forward with a surprising lack of hesitation. But they were no match for Buku. With blinding speed, she dashed, her flamberge slicing through the air in a deadly arc. By the time the older man had blinked at his guards' response, it was already too late. The older man could only stare in surprise as the two heads rolled off their shoulders and hit the dirty floor, followed by the thuds of their headless bodies.

The thug froze in disbelief, his breath caught in his throat. His eyes darted between the headless corpses at his feet and Buku, whose blade was now pointed directly at his throat, glittering crimson. He swallowed hard but quickly tried to regain some semblance of composure. "Since when do necromancers play heroes? What do you want, missy?" He sneered as he sat back down. His hand shook slightly as he fished a small flask from his jacket pocket, taking a nervous swig.

Buku's eyes narrowed. In one swift motion, she slapped the flask from his hand, sending it crashing into the wall where it shattered, spilling its contents across the dirty floor. "You will tell us who runs Defias and where we can find him."

"Like hell I will, I am a dead man if I do," The man grunted back, glaring at Buku.

"You should be more worried about what we will do to you," Ainz said coldly, his skeletal hand gesturing over the fallen guards' corpses. "Death is a mercy you might not get to see."

As if on cue, the two headless corpses rose, picking up their heads and putting them back in place, moving as one. The heads sat crookedly on their shoulders, their dead eyes rolling jerkily as if adjusting to their new position.

The older man's face paled considerably as he watched the macabre display. "Point taken. But what's stopping you from turning me into one of those after I tell you what you want?" His eyes darted nervously between the zombies and Ainz, fear creeping into his voice.

Ainz let out a bone-chilling laugh, playing up the evil overlord role once more. "It seems you are under the impression these are negotiations."

Buku took that as her cue to test out her own limits of cruelty. She grabbed the thug's right hand and began squeezing his fingers, the bones crunching audibly under her iron grip. The man howled in pain, his other hand slamming against the table in a futile attempt to stave off the agony, his breaths growing sharp and labored as his fingers crunched, one by one.

"The Brotherhood will-" He didn't finish the sentence. Buku, bored of his bravado, reached for his cheeks and shattered his jaw with one brutal swing. The sound of splintering bone echoed through the room, followed by the wet gurgle of the man's screams.

But this was only the beginning of his torment. Buku grinned darkly as she healed the man's broken jaw with a flick of her wrist, watching as his face twisted with disbelief and horror at the sudden lack of pain and appearance of light, only for her to crush his hand once again, eliciting another agonized scream. "I will break and heal you as long as it takes," Buku whispered into his ear, her voice dripping with malicious glee as she pulled him close. "Hands, feet, balls… over and over again until you tell us what we want to know."

"You sick bitch-" The thug's words were cut short as Buku reached into his stomach and yanked out a portion of his intestines with a sickening squelch. His scream was raw and primal, echoing through the room, but Buku only grinned, casting another healing spell to mend the wound as she held the man's entrails in her hand. "What shall we break next?" she continued, her voice almost playful.

"I have all day… tough guy and a lot of things I want to try out." She cast heal again, repairing her torture subject.

"Fine! Fine! Fine! I'll talk!" the man shrieked, his face twisted pink in agony. "I will tell you what you want to know. You are sick in the head, you know that?"

"Go on, then," Buku urged him, tossing his intestines back into his lap with a wet slap. "And don't pretend your social club hasn't done similar things."

"Edwin VanCleef" the man gasped, his breath ragged and uneven. "you can find him in his cabin… on the dreadnought. The farmhouse at the end of the main street has an entrance into the mines. You'll have to go past hundreds of our men… and even more, once you reach the ship."

"There, was that so hard?" Buku taunted, patting the man's cheek condescendingly with her gauntleted hand. "You sit tight and wait for the news. We will be your new owners." Buku grinned and continued. "For your sake, I hope you didn't lie to us. Because if you did, not even killing yourself will let you escape."

"I'm not lying!" the thug spat, his voice trembling with fear and anger. "What the hell are you? And what's with that boy? Is he one of ours?"

"We are supreme beings," Buku replied dismissively. She then turned to Ainz. "Oh, Ainz do we still need that boy?"

Ainz shook his head. "We can leave him here and let Defias deal with him." He released the boy from his control.

The boy slumped down in the corner clutching his head. "I am dead, I am so dead."

"Watch over these two." Ainz ordered the two zombies," If they try to leave this room, kill both."

As they left the building, Ainz reanimated the corpses strewn across the street, ordering them to guard the premises until further notice. The shambling dead lined the perimeter, their dead eyes unseeing yet vigilant, ensuring no one would escape.

Edited by NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by nate051499j6, IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, Malguis, aidan_lo, and I AM THE STRING CUTTER.

Link my discord server ( https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2 )

Chapter 24: Volume 1 - Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Ainz and Buku moved through the narrow winding tunnels shrouded by [Perfect Unknowable, a ninth-tier spell that not only made them invisible to the naked eye but also masked sound, heat, and scent, making them virtually undetectable to almost any means. The narrow tunnels, roughly hewn from the bedrock, gave off a stale, musty scent of damp earth and old sweat. Faint sounds of pickaxes clinking against stone reverberated in the distance, as did the occasional grumbled curse from a tired miner. Shadows flowed around the walls, cast by flickering torches, forming an almost dreamlike world of sharp edges and encroaching blackness.

Though they could have simply killed their way through the Defias Brotherhood, leaving behind a field of corpses in their wake, the two took a more secret tack. Ainz was anticipating that the Brotherhood would soon be under control and thus it was best to maintain the potential workforce intact. In many respects, mindless slaughter wasted resources. There were better ways to get enough corpses than blindly culling the numbers of the crime cartel, independent thinking still had its place as long as it wouldn't point its gears against him.

The first part of their trek was an extensive network of winding mines; vast caverns with uneven floors and a network of interwoven tunnels. Hundreds of laborers, both free and enslaved, chipped away at the walls using basic tools, picks and crudely attached axes. Sweat poured from their brows, their frantic breaths filled the murky air. Many of them were thin, pale figures, bent and battered from years of constant hard labor and malnutrition. Shackles clinked on the stone surfaces as they dragged their feet, barely able to muster the strength to swing their pickaxes as they continued onwards. It was obvious to them, many of these individuals had been forced into this life; the chains around their ankles were enough to tell that tale.

Buku glanced at a shriveled old man chipping away at the hard stone with a dull pickaxe, his body withered by years of suffering. { What are we going to do about slavery? I don't really want our empire to be a shithole where only the elites have a decent life. }

{ Agreed. Slavery in any form is … distasteful, to say the least, } Ainz replied, his tone measured. { It's probably best if we outright outlaw it. Using criminals as a workforce is one thing but law-abiding citizens should have free and happy lives. I hope we never sink to the level of CEOs that ran Earth. }

He didn't feel particularly sorry for any individual they passed - his skeletal form had long since stripped him of such feelings like empathy - but at the same time, he firmly believed in trying to rule with justice and fairness in mind and making honest people slave away was not within those acceptable limits. He may no longer have the heart of a human, but the memories of his time on Earth remained vivid enough to guide his reasoning.

{ I don't think… } Buku's thoughts paused for a moment when they passed another worker, this time a young woman with raw and bleeding wrists from the chains. { Ainz, we need to keep each other in check. Our humanity has slipped away very fast. } Buku understood the dangers of becoming careless tyrants. Back when she was a human, the mere idea of torturing someone would have made her physically sick, but now she could do so with casual ease and had even enjoyed the process earlier.

Ainz halted for a moment, contemplating her words. He knew that she was right. Their power and physiology had distanced them from the human emotions they once held dear, leaving behind only their solid love for each other as the rest gradually faded by the day. { We will. It's important we don't become what we despise. Power is dangerous when unchecked. }

Their quiet moment of reflection was abruptly interrupted by the appearance of a hulking figure ahead of them, standing as a sentinel before a massive metal door embedded deeply into the stone wall. The massive humanoid creature was an ogre - a lumbering brute standing at nearly three meters tall, towering over the slaves around them. Its broad frame was both muscular and corpulent. The creature's singular horn jutted from the top of its head, and it wore nothing but a stained loincloth that hung loosely from its waist. Its dull, vacant eyes, lacking any signs of intelligence, stared straight ahead, its thick lips pulled into a dumb expression of confusion as if trying to remember what it was supposed to be doing.

Ainz and Buku stopped in their tracks, taking in the scene around them. Behind the ogre, shadows moved in the periphery of their vision - more guards, lurking in the darkness.

{ It seems like some sort of checkpoint. We'll have to wait to move further. } Ainz informed his wife.

Buku glanced at the ogre { Can't you try to use mind control on the big guy so he opens doors for us? } She asked in response.

The ogre let out a low, guttural grunt, scratching its belly absentmindedly, unaware that it was the subject of conversation for two beings far beyond its understanding contemplating its fate.

{ Not while [Perfect Unknowable] is active. We either blow our cover or wait. They're already on edge after what we pulled in Moonbrook. } Ainz explained.

{ Fair enough, } Buku replied, circling around the ogre. She glanced at the huge Warhammer slung over the creature's back; it was nearly the size of a grown man, displaying the ogre's monstrous strength. {Look at the weapon, though. It seems suited to crushing boulders.}

Ainz nodded, his calculating gaze swept over the point of interest. {Most certainly, brutal force is used here. The other guards hiding in the shadows are just fodder, numbers for the sake of numbers. Still, caution is more ideal.}

Buku sighed, her impatience barely concealed. { Ok, let's wait about ten minutes. If those doors don't open, I say we nuke the place and move on. Worst-case scenario, it'll be assumed the ogre had a bad day and snapped, taking out the guards. } she suggested.

Ainz chuckled lightly { We are in no hurry. I doubt VanCleef will just disappear. }

{ Yeah, well, I'm not one for sitting around all day. } Buku walked around the ogre with slow, deliberate steps, studying the beast, already thinking of how easy it would be to cleave through its skull with one swing of her flamberge.

{ Sure, we can- } Ainz stopped mid-sentence, stepping aside with an effortless grace. A group of three Defias patrolmen came into view, their idle banter echoing through the narrow passage, warning of their approach. Among them, two were men clad in tight leather outfits and the last was a woman in loose robes carrying a staff with a fire enchant.

The guards strolled past, oblivious to the fact that two god-like individuals stood mere inches away. Their conversation was trivial, something about stolen goods and new slaves. The ogre grunted for them not to interrupt the work of the workers and let them pass after accepting a small note and shoving it into the belt holding his loincloth.

Unknowingly, the group of three had saved the rest of the room by opening the metal door, moving past the checkpoint as they disappeared down the corridor.

{ Well that was convenient, } Buku thought dryly, watching them go. The door slid shut with a dull clunk as they moved into the next area. They followed the trio, unseen and unheard.

The hallway stretched before them, lined with worn stone walls and the distant clanging of mining equipment. The faint groans of the enslaved miners continued, their sounds growing fainter as the pair moved deeper into the hideout. Ahead, another metal door stood only partly closed, hinting at a larger chamber beyond.

Ainz slowly pushed the door aside with minimal effort and let Buku pass first. As it creaked open, they were greeted by an odd aroma of wood shavings and freshly cut logs. What lay before them was an unusual contrast to the earlier mining operation: an open field-like area with stacks of neatly arranged logs and goblins scurrying about in the organized chaos.

One particular figure caught Ainz's eye more than anything else present. One goblin stood out from the rest, encased in what appeared to be a humanoid mecha suit with a huge buzzsaw for one hand, a metal claw for the other, and a heavy stream of blackish smoke escaping from exhaust pipes in its upper back as it shuffled in place. Its tiny goblin head poked out from a makeshift cockpit, goggles strapped haphazardly to its face as it barked commands at the others.

{ They have mecha. Just what is with this world? } Buku couldn't help but let out an internal snort of disbelief.

{ I don't know either. } Ainz replied and glanced at the goblin in the mech suit again, almost in disbelief himself. The creature moved awkwardly like it hadn't quite mastered its mechanical monstrosity, but it was still undeniably dangerous in comparison to the rest of the mines. The buzzsaw spun wildly, sending sparks flying each time it nicked a stray piece of timber, clearly showing that work safety didn't exist as a concept for them. { Let's just move on and worry about this another time. }

{ Agreed. } Buku responded, still eyeing the reckless goblins who scurried around the mecha with no regard for their own safety.

Ainz and Buku stepped into the next room, a blast of heat hitting them like a furnace. The metallic scent of molten iron and steel filled the air, mingled with the acrid stench of coal and oil the duo were only all-too-familiar-with from their past life. In the center of the room, a massive pot of molten metal hung precariously in chains, bubbling a vicious boil and glowing a fiery orange. A group of goblins, with their mismatched, grimy clothing, scurried about, hammering, molding, and shaping metal plates, nails, and other goods with a clumsy but determined efficiency from the liquid that flowed their way.

Buku commented, {I don't understand how they haven't melted their entire operation by now,} as she watched a goblin narrowly dodge being splattered by molten metal.

{ Perhaps they're just extraordinarily lucky… or exceptionally unlucky, depending on your point of view, } Ainz replied, shaking his head, taking in the inefficient logistics and areas of weakness. { Let's not linger. }

They moved past this area as fast as possible, soon emerging into an enormous cavern. The sheer scale of the space was awe-inspiring; the ceiling stretched high above them, and in the middle of the enormous chamber, dominating the scene, was a gigantic ship. This ship had a few dozen canons of varying sizes attached to it haphazardly, made of various materials.

'That must be the dreadnought.' Ainz mused. It seemed that at the very least the thug hadn't lied to them. They reached the ship without any difficulty and ascended through the ship's lower decks, easily avoiding the numerous sailors hard at work repairing the monstrosity made out of wood and metal. Though the ship looked formidable from a distance, up close it was clear that it was held together by little more than desperation and scrap metal, hanging for its life.

On the very top of the ship stood a wooden cabin with a door ajar and two men standing by the entrance, both clad in worn leather armor. The guards looked alert but were unaware of the invisible presence of the two beings who approached them.

Ainz and Buku slipped past with ease, entering the cabin. Inside, the atmosphere changed entirely from the chaos outside. The room was dimly lit, with candles casting flickering shadows across the wooden walls. At the center, behind a cluttered desk, sat a man frantically making calculations and scribbling notes across various papers. His fingers drummed a sporadic, almost erratic rhythm on the table, tapping alongside a curved sword that lay within easy reach.

The man, likely in his mid-to-late thirties, had a slim build, but there was a sharpness in his eyes that betrayed a calculating, experienced mind. His raven-black hair, tied back in a loose tail, was slightly disheveled, a few stray locks falling into his face. Every now and then, he impatiently brushed them aside, muttering under his breath as he worked.

Ainz noticed that his leather armor, while well-worn, was reinforced and of high quality, clearly a man who had seen his fair share of combat and knew how to maintain his equipment. His hands moved with precision, though the drumming of his fingers revealed an underlying anxiety.

In the shadows hid four masked men. Their eyes gleamed from behind the masks, watching every movement in the room with deadly intent. Each of them was armed with an assortment of blades, their postures tense and ready for combat at a moment's notice. But it was the young girl who caught Ainz's attention next. She, likely in her mid-teens, was dressed in a grey skirt and blouse, sitting casually on a crate in the corner. Her long black hair, Ainz noted its similarities to the man behind the desk - likely his daughter. She was toying lazily with a pair of long knives, twirling them between her fingers with surprising skill for her age as she yawned from boredom.

Ainz stepped forward, his dark robe billowing as he canceled the [Perfect Unknowable] spell. In an instant, the room was filled with his commanding presence, his skeletal frame looming over the desk with an aura of otherworldly superiority. The Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown materialized in his hand, its seven orbs shimmering ominously in the candlelight. Beside him, Buku stood gracefully, her cold eyes making it clear that they were no typical intruders. "Edwin Vancleef, I presume?"

The four men hidden in the shadows immediately sprung into action, their instincts honed from countless skirmishes. Without hesitation, they lunged at Ainz and Buku with lethal precision, their blades aimed at various vital points. But the attacks were futile. Their precise strikes harmlessly bounced off both of them, sending them bouncing off.

Ainz's skeletal face didn't and couldn't flinch his expression … or rather, the lack of one, making it clear how little he regarded their attempts. The masked men paused, exchanging brief glances as if silently acknowledging that they were facing something far beyond their comprehension before entering a new formation.

Edwin VanCleef, the leader of the Defias Brotherhood, squinted, his sharp eyes narrowing as he gauged the situation. He raised a hand, a subtle motion; at once, the six attackers stepped back, assuming defensive positions. Edwin's hand lingered on the hilt of his curved sword, fingers twitching with suppressed energy. "Yes, so?" he finally asked, his voice laced with caution.

"We have a proposition in mind." Ainz's voice reverberated through the room, deep and chilling, as he tapped the deck with his staff.

Edwin's lips curled into a slight frown, but he remained composed, "I'm listening."

"You and your entire organization will serve us from now on, and in return, you will keep your lives and prosper under our care," Ainz stated with the authority and a degree of finality of a born King.

Edwin VanCleef was not a man to cower in the face of such an ultimatum, he had faced many before in his years of leadership. Slowly, he rose from his chair, his posture calm yet defiant, his hand still resting on his sword. "Even if you kill me, the brotherhood will not follow you. They will disappear in the shadows, only to emerge stronger." His voice was resolute, but Ainz and Buku could hear the slight waver beneath the bravado. The leader of the Defias was no fool. He understood the overwhelming power before him, but defiance was all he had left to cling to. If he died, he would at least go down fighting.

Before Ainz could respond, Buku's voice cut through the air, "You seem to be under the impression that death is worse than what can happen to you." She took a step toward the corner, her armored boots clicking softly on the wooden floor. "Or to that young lady in the corner." VanCleef's mask of composure cracked ever so slightly. His eyes flickered to the girl in the corner - his daughter, as Ainz and Buku had deduced. The similarities between her and the leader of Defias were too obvious to ignore, both had raven-black hair and blue eyes. Buku spoke up as she made her way towards the girl without hurry, step by step.

Edwin's demeanor didn't change but his feelings were betrayed by his rapidly raising pulse. "Vannessa, don't-" he tried to warn her but was too late.

Vannessa sprang from her seat, her knives flashing like silver lightning as she dashed toward Buku. Her movements were fluid and fast, clearly trained for moments like these. She hurled a small pouch of powder toward Buku's face, aiming to blind her in a desperate effort. At the same time, her knife sought Buku's right eye, whistling with speed.

But, as with the previous attacks, the knife simply bounced off without reaching Buku's skin, the force dissipating harmlessly against her. The poisonous powder settled in the air but seemed to vanish as soon as it touched Buku, as if the very air around her was unwilling to allow anything harmful to remain in her presence. It had all been for naught.

Buku's melodic, almost amused laughter filled the room. "Poison? Really?" Her voice dripped with gleeful condescension as if she were watching a child playing with dulled, toy weapons.

"H-how? You are not human!" The girl exclaimed as she stumbled backward, her confidence shaken as she reached for another blade. Her wide blue eyes flickered with both confusion and anger.

Buku tilted her head, still smiling as if the answer were obvious. With a swift motion, she grabbed Vannessa's wrist, yanking the girl closer. Her strength was overwhelming, like iron shackles clamping down, and Vannessa's resistance was as feeble as a leaf caught in a storm, dropping her remaining poisons. "How perceptive," Buku purred, her voice low and dangerous. "You are right. I am not human. I am something far superior. You could try for centuries, and nothing you do will ever harm me or my husband."

The terror in Vannessa's eyes deepened as she struggled against Buku's grip, but it was useless. The girl's breath came in ragged gasps, the reality of her situation rapidly sinking in. "All you can do to be safe is to be useful to us. Now, tell me… Will you serve us with unmatched loyalty, or shall we find a... different use for you?" Buku continued, her voice dripping with honeyed menace, as she pulled the frightened girl closer, glancing at her husband.

At that moment, the six men who had guarded Edwin sprang into action, their movements fast and precise. They rushed toward Buku, weapons drawn, intent on freeing their leader's daughter. But before they could even reach her, Ainz appeared between the thugs and Buku. His mere touch sent the closest man crumpling to the ground, lifeless. Four out of six had their lives snuffed out in quick succession, their bodies collapsing like puppets with their strings cut, eyes glazed over in death with a flick of his hand. The remaining faltered, pale with fear, and made a desperate attempt to flee, their boots skidding on the wooden deck as they dashed toward the door. But Ainz was faster. With a mere flicker of his will, he appeared before them, his crimson eyes glowing with dark amusement. The two men shared the same grim fate as the monster before them delivered a swift death.

Ainz waved his hand and the six figures rose before the terrified duo, their movements jerked and unnatural. They had been resurrected, not as living men, but as undead thralls under Ainz's absolute control. "Serve us in life," Ainz declared, his voice cold and final, "or serve us in death. Choose."

Vannessa's knife finally clattered to the floor as she stared at the undead figures of her former guards, horror etched on her young face. She knew how powerful they were, the elites of the organization, and yet they had fallen within mere seconds. Her body trembled, but she forced herself to speak. "I—I will serve you without question."

Buku's smile widened as she pulled Vannessa even closer, her cold eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "A wise choice."

Edwin, standing across the room, his hand still on his sword, watched the entire scene unfold with grim determination. His gaze was hard, his face betraying little emotion, but the rapid rise and fall of his chest gave away the intense turmoil brewing beneath the surface. His grip on the hilt of his sword loosened, and with a weary sigh, he finally lowered his weapon.

"Fine," he stated, his voice flat but steady. "You win. But know this. Even if I bow, it doesn't mean the brotherhood will follow suit. They live in the shadows, and they do not trust outsiders. They might rebel."

"Those who don't serve in life will serve in their death. Make sure they know this. I found you, I can find them all, and those who run will pay for their defiance," Ainz's voice echoed through the cabin, cold and authoritative. His crimson orbs glowed with a quiet, chilling intensity. "It makes little difference to me what path you humans choose. The Defias brotherhood now belongs to us and no one else." The weight of his words settled like a heavy fog in the room, thick and suffocating with power and fear. Ainz, fully immersed in his overlord nature, finished. Demanding obedience came as naturally as breathing now and he wasn't about to falter in such a moment. He and Buku had chosen this path and now, all that remained was walking it with unyielding conviction.

Edwin stood frozen for a moment, digesting the enormity of what had transpired. His mind raced trying to grapple with the reality of his helplessness. "Before I spread the word," Edwin began, his voice strained but steady, "what do you plan to do with us? And what even are you?"

These two beings were so powerful that highly trained assassins couldn't even scratch them. But that alone wasn't enough to scare him into submission. His eyes flickered over to his daughter, Vanessa, who had fallen silent after her failed attack, now standing rigid beside Buku. He couldn't afford to lose her, not to these beings whose motives were as alien as their power. The poison his daughter made was some of the most lethal toxins humanity had ever seen. What Vannesa threw into the woman's face should have killed her within seconds, yet it had been brushed off without as much as a cough. Edwin's sharp mind tried and failed to piece together the extent of their capabilities, but he knew one thing for certain: resistance was futile.

"You will serve as our eyes and ears and help us establish our empire. As long as you serve with loyalty, you will be treated well." His skeletal fingers drummed lightly on the staff he had materialized. "We are known as the Supreme Beings," Ainz continued, his voice as calm and measured as ever, the kind of calm that only absolute power could provide.

Buku, standing beside Vanessa with a serene smile, interjected smoothly. "If you don't do anything foolish, you will be in good care. We don't throw lives away needlessly, and we ensure that those under us don't lack what they need. But understand this." Her voice lowered slightly, making her next words feel like a direct, personal threat. "There is nothing you… or any other mortal… can do to even harm us."

Edwin's lips tightened as he mulled over their words. He had built the Defias Brotherhood from the ground up, uniting the disenfranchised and vengeful of the kingdom into a force capable of terrorizing an entire region and untouchable by royal or noble authority. Yet here he stood, at the mercy of two beings whose power dwarfed anything he had ever encountered. His gaze fell on Vanessa again, and this time, she broke the silence.

Edwin lowered his head slightly in a gesture of reluctant submission. "Very well. I will gather all the subleaders and Vanessa- "

"Daddy, I will be safe. I trust they won't harm me if I behave." Vanessa interrupted her father. Her voice was small, but it carried an undeniable weight. She had seen enough to know there was no point in pushing further. Her blue eyes locked with her father's, offering a resigned comfort at their new situation.

Edwin sighed deeply, his resolve clearly fraying. "It will take a few hours. I suggest you settle in. Should I send someone with food and drink?"

Buku's eyes sparkled with amusement and she let go of Vanessa's arm, settling into a chair behind the desk with the kind of nonchalance that bespoke her absolute confidence. She leaned back, slouching slightly, looking more like a queen bored of her court than a conqueror in the middle of a hostile takeover. "Looks like you are finally getting it. Yes, some refreshments would be nice," she added with a dismissive wave of her hand. "And don't worry about the girl, she's in good hands. We wouldn't harm her for no reason."

Edwin gave a short nod and turned, his footsteps almost eerily silent on the hard wooden planks as he hurried out of the cabin, half-sprinting.

As the door clicked shut, Ainz approached the table. With a silent cast of [Create Item, a chair materialized from thin air, elegant and dark, suited to his royal stature. He sat down beside Buku, his skeletal form exuding an air of complete and unshakable power.

The first step was done. Now the real work could begin. The Brotherhood would fall into line, one way or another, and once it was whipped into proper shape as a useful labor force, they could plan their next steps and set their eyes on more territory to call their own. The possibilities were endless. One option was to consolidate power in Westfall, declaring the entire region their own and establishing it as their personal stronghold. After all, the brotherhood already controlled much of it; turning that influence into outright control wouldn't be difficult.

With the quick movement of a wrist, he cast a multitude of spells in all directions, analyzing the entire complex. They would start here, from the highest authority to the lowest slaves, and utilize them to their bests.

But there were other options, too. To the south lay untamed jungle territories, unclaimed by any major powers. Ainz's mind drifted to the neutral goblin city at the very tip of the continent. The goblins were clever and pragmatic, and a neutral city could serve as a valuable trading hub under their influence. Beyond that, the scattered forest trolls were tribal and primitive, thus subjugating them would be child's play for beings like him and Buku.

Edited by NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by nate051499j6, IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, Malguis, I AM THE STRING CUTTER, and aidan_lo.

Link my discord server (https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2)

Chapter 25: Volume 1 - Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Edwin took another swig from the bottle of rum, his throat burning as the liquid made its way down. He sat hunched on a weathered wooden crate, the box creaking under his weight. Around him, the cavern buzzed with cacophonous activity, the flickering light from scattered torches casting erratic shadows on the stone walls of the room's inhabitants. This was the heart of the Defias Brotherhood, their hidden lair where its righteous rebellious ideals were once born, now dimmed like the light with the passage of time.

His six guards, now lifeless sentinels, stood a distance away, their features fully hidden behind new and old masks. Even in death, they were bound to his will, or rather, the will of his new masters, who had commanded them to protect him.

Edwin let his gaze drift toward the far wall of the cavern where the Brotherhood's dreadnought, a massive amalgamation of wood and steel, stood half-repaired by the slaves and workers. He had dreamed of using that ship to lay waste to Stormwind, to burn the city to the ground and reclaim what had been stolen from him and his people. But that dream seemed hollow now, replaced with the cold, hard truth of his reality. The plans had changed. He had changed. Everything had changed.

Once, his life had been full of hope. He had led the Stonemasons Guild, a proud, honorable man who had poured everything into rebuilding Stormwind City after it had been razed by the orcs to dust and ashes. He could still picture those days with painful clarity, the sweat and toil of his men, their optimism, their belief that they were creating something good, something lasting. But all of that had been for nothing in the end.

The corrupt nobles of Stormwind had refused to pay what was owed, their greed and corruption knowing no bounds as they drank fine wines and consumed rich foods. Copper coins in place of gold, a mockery of the blood and sweat his guild had poured into the city's reconstruction that none of them could stand for. When they had protested, and demanded justice, they had been met with contempt. So, in a righteous wrath, they had rioted against their lords. But the riots spiraled out of control faster than Edwin had anticipated, and it had culminated in Queen Tiffin's death, struck on the head by a stone in the chaos.

At that moment, he knew, all was lost. The young King Varian Wrynn, grief-stricken and enraged, had declared the Stonemasons outlaws, condemning them to death on sight and blaming them for everything that was wrong with the kingdom. Edwin recalled the events clear as day - how he had fled the city in the veil of the night with nothing more than a shirt on his back and his only daughter, Vanessa, cradled in his arms. Vanessa had been too young then, too innocent to understand the depth of betrayal that had been dealt to them.

Over the years, Vanessa had grown into a shrewd and clever young woman, not only learning about the cruelty of the world from a young age but also thriving in it. She had been practically his stand-in in the headquarters when he was away.

As he recounted the events of that fateful day countless times over the years, a suspicion had quickly taken root in his heart. He had doubts that Queen Tiffin's death had been an accident at all. It had been too convenient for the nobles, far too much. They had rid themselves of a Queen who might have sympathized with the Stonemasons and weakened the nobility's influence, and in her place, they had enraged the King, who was known for his quick temper, manipulating him into crushing their rebellion and strengthening their rule.

It was then that the brotherhood was born - in the aftermath of that betrayal, rising from the ashes of the Stonemasons Guild. At first, they had been defenders of the downtrodden and those wronged by the powers to be, fighting for justice, for retribution against the tyranny of the crown and the corrupt. But over time, that idealism was corrupted and Defias became the symbol of terror it now was. And Edwin… Edwin had let it happen. He had failed to stop the corruption from spreading, both in the Brotherhood and in his own heart. He had even failed to stop it from infecting the one person he cared for the most - Vanessa.

Until today, he had believed that Vanessa would one day inherit the title of the Defias Kingpin and rule the human lands once they razed Stormwind to the ground. The grand plan of rebuilding a dreadnought and unleashing its might on the city he had helped build would have been resolved within a year and they would've taken the king's head to impale on a pike, feeding his and the nobility's families to the dogs.

Now things were different. Two beings of incredible power had come and claimed the brotherhood for themselves, sweeping through like an unstoppable storm. He had warned the subleaders what fate would await them should they try to flee or fight against their new masters, many of them former comrades from the guild. Although his declaration had been met with much confusion, none had dared defy him. In fact, most of the Defias Brotherhood had gathered in the cavern just to meet these so-called Supreme Beings.

The cavern was filling up rapidly, more and more members of the Brotherhood arriving by the minute. Of course, a lot of ground-level grunts wouldn't be informed about the change in leadership as they didn't know much in the first place, but everyone who had ever seen him needed to be present plus anyone with enough power to possibly come into contact with the dangerous duo.

His attention was drawn to a figure approaching from the far end of the cavern, Marisa du'Page. The daughter of one of his lieutenants, a man who had died during the riots in Stormwind. She was young - too young, really - but undeniably dangerous. Her golden hair shimmered in the low light, and she wore a silk dress suit that looked out of place in the rough-hewn cavern, yet somehow suited her perfectly. A glowing blade hung loosely in her right hand, walking towards him with the confident stride of someone who knew her own power, her stride deliberate, her eyes cold. Marisa du'Page was one of the most talented sorceresses the guild had and few were unaware of her magical prowess and extreme cruelty toward those who stood in her way.

Marisa's eyes narrowed as she leaned in, scrutinizing Edwin's every word. Her lips curled in skepticism, her head tilted slightly to the side."So what happened, boss?" she asked.

Edwin took another gulp from his bottle, his gaze drifting over the wooden planks beneath his feet. "I already explained in the letter," he grunted. "We have new leaders. Anyone who wants to fight them or tries to run will serve them as undead, and I cannot help you with it."

Marisa wasn't having it. She snatched the bottle from his hand, her expression hardening as she drank deeply from it before continuing. "Cut the crap, what did they do to make you so scared?" As she let out a hiccup, her eyes flashing with annoyance.

Edwin shot her a dark look, prying the bottle back from her hand with a sigh."One of them, the human-looking woman, brushed off Vanessa's poisons like nothing and somehow reflected a knife stab with her face. The other one, the undead, killed my guards by just touching them and then he raised them as undead right in front of me."

He subtly motioned toward the guards standing silently nearby, who were as still as statues.

Marisa raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. "I guess if the woman is a sorceress she could have used some kind of magical shield, but poison? Are you sure she wasn't an undead too?"

Edwin shook his head slowly, his fingers tightening around the neck of the bottle. "I doubt it. She looked alive, but who the hell knows?" He stood up and pried the bottle out of Marisa's hands again as she reluctantly let it go.

"So, I guess we are about to find out what our bosses have in store for us." Marisa's gaze lifted as she caught sight of two figures on the main deck of the dreadnought, Vanessa standing behind them.

Ainz and Buku stood in complete silence, their presence alone commanding the attention of every soul on the ship. Edwin felt his gut twist, a deep, primal dread settling in as he realized this wasn't just going to be a simple power transfer. He knew with certainty that some sort of power move would be made by them to ensure that the brotherhood does as told. He could only hope for the best.

Edwin's eyes flicked nervously around the deck, fully expecting that some form of brutal display would follow as a show of power. Perhaps a public execution of a few influential members to send a message, that even the upper echelons weren't safe from the new reign. Yet even in his wildest dreams, he couldn't have predicted what happened next.

Ainz raised his golden staff and tapped it lightly against the ship's deck. At first, the sound was a hollow thud, nothing more. But then, a creeping darkness spread outward from his feet, swallowing the wooden planks like an ink spill, pitch black. A swirling, despair aura rose around him, thick and suffocating, as if the air itself had turned against them and corrupted to his will.

It hit Edwin with the force of a tidal wave, fear flooding his body and mind. His knees buckled as he shuddered uncontrollably. Then, his legs gave out beneath him, crashing to the deck as his body betrayed him entirely in sheer terror. The bottle slipped from his grasp, dropping beside him with a faint clatter. His teeth chattered as an uncontrollable shiver wracked his frame. Sweat drenched his brow, but he felt frozen, utterly paralyzed by the sheer terror emanating from the undead. This dread dwarfed anything he had felt in his life, threatening to consume his mind entirely.

Around him, the crew wasn't faring much better. Men and women who had once been hardened criminals, fearless in the face of death and torture, now crumbled to the ground like children; quaking, sobbing, and begging for mercy from their mothers and gods. The oppressive weight of Supreme Being Ainz's power pressed down on them all, drowning their defiance like a snuffed-out flame before a barrel of water.

"W-what is this…?" Marisa whimpered beside him. Gone was the brash, sharp-tongued woman who had snatched the bottle from him moments ago. Instead, she was the frightened girl Edwin remembered, the one who had fled the city at his side all those years ago. Now, reduced to this, she could barely form a coherent thought, fearing for her life as her jittering fingers failed to move.

Edwin clenched his jaw through the muscles in his face, twitching from the strain of keeping up the façade. He picked up his bottle and raised it to his lips, trying desperately to show off casual ease before his subordinates as the last one not sprawled across the floor. But as the burning liquor slid down his throat, it did nothing to steady his nerves, only serving as a slight distraction to the darkness. His hand trembled slightly as he took another sip, his false sense of control unraveling with each passing second.

"B-boss…" Marisa whimpered again, her voice barely a whisper. What the hell are they? M-my shields, my wards… n-nothing works." She trembled, her fingers twitching as if she could summon some forgotten spell to save her. But Edwin knew, just as she did, that magic held no sway here. It was like trying to halt a tidal wave with paper walls.

Edwin glanced around, his gaze sweeping over the pitiful sight of his crew. This feeling of overwhelming fear was shared unanimously by them all. Even the borderline-insane goblins were huddling together in tight, anxious clusters like small children, their tools dropped like the rest of them.

And then it came. The voice. Not spoken aloud, but projected directly into his mind. A voice that did not simply speak to him… it commanded him. { I demand silence! } Ainz's voice, cold and devoid of emotion, invaded his mind, its demanding tone only amplifying the gravity of the order of the one who stood above them all.

All murmurs and whimpers instantly died down. The silence that followed was deafening even to the ears used to the screams of the damned. Edwin felt his heart thumping hard in his chest and beads of sweat forming on his brow, flowing like never before. He had never met anyone who commanded authority to such a degree. The undead seemed to be a born ruler. That much his instincts told him. 'A Supreme Being. He is holding back. If he wanted, he could kill us all with ease.' A terrible thought entered his mind as if he had tasted a bit of his new master's infinite power for the briefest of moments as the overlord's presence resonated throughout his mind. Ainz wasn't just powerful… he was absolute. To betray or disobey such a being was unthinkable.

If before he had harbored the illusion that he could have taken his daughter and fled to start a new life somewhere else, then now he knew better. Now it seemed laughable. Futile. There was nowhere to run. Sooner or later Ainz Ooal Gown and Buku Ooal Gown would govern the world and no force would be able to stop them. He swallowed hard, his throat dry despite the alcohol drunken mere seconds earlier. The dread that gripped his heart tightened, threatening to burst it open.

{ From this day forward, you serve us. You will give your all to achieve our goals and in return, we will take care of you as our loyal subjects. } The words echoed in Edwin's skull, like the ringing of a bell that could not be unrung, resonating deep within him.

The sense of dread faded as a new voice invaded his mind with equal intensity. { Cheer for your Emperor, Ainz Ooal Gown! Show your dedication or be cast aside! }

The crowd, still reeling from the supernatural terror they'd just experienced, hesitated. But Edwin knew what needed to be done. His survival instincts kicked in with brutal efficiency, pushing aside the crippling fear as blood roared in his ears. There was no time to ponder or resist; to do so would mean death to him, his daughter, and everyone in the brotherhood. With every ounce of force he could muster, Edwin thrust his right arm into the air, his voice raw and desperate as he screamed at the top of his lungs, "Hail Emperor Ainz Ooal Gown! Hail Emperor Ainz Ooal Gown!"

His cry split through the oppressive silence, hanging in the air like the crack of a whip. For a moment, no one followed, the crowd still stunned by the unreal reality of their new situation. But as if spurred on by his defiance of the silence, the others quickly followed suit. One by one, they raised their voices, a trickle that grew into a torrent of loyalty and desperation, shouting their dedication to the monster, united as one in fear.

The collective shout resonated through the air, becoming an anthem of submission. A new era for the Brotherhood had begun.

<X>

Ainz sat comfortably in his library corner, surrounded by towering bookshelves crammed with magical tomes and history books. He had made a cozy library corner for himself and studied the purchased literature with the devotion of a longtime scholar. Until he found a more permanent solution, he had settled on creating a fortress daily in the cavern to have a suitable headquarters, leaving behind the current infrastructure for his new subordinates to live in.

The fortress itself was impressive, its sheer scale dwarfing everything else in the cavern. Each cast of the spell had given life to towering walls, grand halls, and elegant chambers, leaving Ainz with a stronghold more impressive than anything the Brotherhood had likely ever seen in their entire lives. The penthouse area, reserved for him and Buku, was a grandiose suite furnished with only the finest furnishings befitting the greatest rulers. Rich carpets sewn with gold thread, gilded furniture decorated with gems, and magic chandeliers that never went out, bathed the room in a soft, ethereal light. The balcony offered a view of the cavern, where the rest of the Brotherhood scurried like ants, aware that their every move was being watched by their new overlords. With a lot of extra space, he and Buku had only occupied the penthouse area, letting the rest of the rooms be taken by notable members of the brotherhood as they saw fit.

After the first day, Ainz realized that the spell could be recast before the building faded, thus keeping it permanently present by only expending a small portion of his near-infinite mana pool. It took only a second to regain the mana lost in using this spell, he barely noticed it if not for him specifically looking out for it. Better yet he could stack up the casts and make the magical building present for the next five years, which he did and then some.

While Ainz immersed himself in his studies, Buku took a different approach. She found herself drawn to the more social aspects of ruling; learning about the people in their service and ensuring that they were organized fairly and efficiently. It wasn't just about controlling them; it was about mastering the intricacies of leadership, something she excelled at since her days of navigating the treacherous world of business. She sat behind a grand desk made of obsidian and dark wood, its surface reflecting the magical torches that lit the room from Ainz's spells.

Vanessa, the girl who had once been a threat, now stood at her side, dutifully serving as her handmaiden in hopes of gleaning some wisdom from her. As Vanessa placed a delicate porcelain teacup in front of her mistress, Buku took it with an absentminded nod, her thoughts already elsewhere as she poured over paperwork.

The sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the penthouse area of the fortress. Each thud reverberated off the stone walls as the figure of Rhahk'Zor, the ogre foreman, lumbered into the room. His hulking form was even more imposing indoors, the space seeming to shrink in comparison to his massive bulk. Despite his size, he moved with surprising care, his eyes wide with awe as he slowly approached the seated Buku.

With a deep grunt, the ogre knelt before her, the floor trembling slightly under his weight.

"Rhahk'Zor, mistress," Vanessa introduced the ogre with a respectful bow. "As an ogre, his speech is lacking, but I assure you, he is not as dumb as he sounds."

Buku raised an eyebrow, the corners of her lips twitching in silent amusement. "We'll see," she said. She took a casual sip from her cup, the fragrant steam rising lazily into the air. "Tell me, Rhahk'Zor, what do you do?"

The ogre straightened his back slightly, proud of the role he held. His deep, rumbling voice struggled with each word, as if pulling them out of the air was a monumental task for his puny brain. "Me… order… small ones. Make… work hard. Gather wood. Make… pointy things." He paused, scratching his chin thoughtfully as if he had just recited an essay of great complexity rather than crude sentences.

Buku leaned back in her chair, setting the teacup down with a faint clink. "Do you like your job?" she continued, her tone light, as if she were chatting with an old friend rather than interrogating a hulking ogre.

The question seemed to take Rhahk'Zor by surprise. He blinked a few times before nodding his large head enthusiastically. "Me… proud. Me good boss. Make tiny ones work hard. Me make sure no stuff stolen. Me… count everything." His thick fingers fumbled at his belt before pulling out a crumpled scroll. With great care, as though presenting a treasure, he held it out for Buku to inspect with two fingers. "Wrote down numbers," he added with a hint of pride.

Buku eyed the scroll, its slightly moist and smudged surface giving her pause. She wasn't about to touch anything that had passed through the ogre's grubby hands. She motioned for Vanessa to deal with the object. The young woman approached the scroll with a thinly veiled grimace, carefully unrolling it before her mistress. To her surprise, the writing on the parchment was relatively neat and legible for someone whose speech was like listening to rocks grind together.

Adjusting her translation glasses, Buku skimmed over the numbers and details. Each figure was meticulous, listing the materials gathered, their quantities, and notes on the workforce assigned to repair the dreadnaughts. In the margins, simple yet insightful comments on shipbuilding had been jotted down, hinting at a deeper understanding than Buku had expected from the ogre. The ogre was clearly highly intelligent in the brain processing and observing department, one of the best she had seen so far today.

She raised an eyebrow."Do ogres build ships?" she asked, more to herself than anyone else.

Rhahk'Zor's face lit up, the pride in his accomplishment evident. "Me pop build good ships. Horde proud. Me learned," he replied, his words slow and clumsy but filled with conviction.

Buku leaned back in her chair, impressed despite herself. "Good job, Rhahk'Zor. Carry on. I'll remember your skills when we need to start building our fleet."

The ogre beamed, chest puffed out as though she had just crowned him king of the shipbuilders. With a nod, he lumbered out of the room, his heavy footsteps fading into the distance.

As soon as he was gone, Buku let out a long, exaggerated sigh. "Good thing we have only one of him. I don't know if I could handle listening to this for long," she muttered, rubbing her temples. "Where did the brotherhood find that guy?"

Vanessa, still holding the damp scroll with two fingers like it was a diseased rag, looked thoughtful for a second. "I think he was found half-dead in the mines when the brotherhood moved in. Apparently left behind by the Horde during some sort of infighting, although father never elaborated further."

Buku frowned. "Strange, I don't remember seeing ogres in Orgrimmar. They weren't present in Undercity either. I wonder why that is."

From the corner of the room, Ainz, still engrossed in his study of arcane texts, offered a response without looking up. "The current horde was made by Thrall. Ogres were likely part of the old Horde, the one ruled by brute force and savagery."

"Ah, that explains it." Buku nodded, rolling her eyes as she remembered Rhahk'Zor's clumsy speech. "I can see why Thrall wouldn't want them around. The guy's smart, sure, but good grief, trying to have a conversation with him is exhausting. Anyway," she turned to Vanessa, "What's next on the list?"

"Rhahk'Zor was the last one, mistress," Vanessa replied promptly, folding the scroll with a hint of relief and tucking it into a shelf. "Father promised a full report of all current and planned Brotherhood activities by tomorrow. I believe there were some updates from Elvynn and he prefers to give you the most up-to-date information."

Buku stretched her arms above her head, stifling a yawn. "I see. In that case, let's wrap it up for today. Go prepare a bath," she instructed, setting her cup aside, "and then you're free to use the library. Take your time. You've earned it."

Vanessa's eyes lit up at the mention of the library. She had been a quick learner, absorbing the lessons Buku gave her with remarkable speed in management. Her sharp mind and eagerness to prove herself made her an invaluable assistant. And, of course, Ainz personally ensured her loyalty with the help of his [Domination] spell, erasing memories that the questioning even took place. Vanessa, by all means, had decided on near fanatical devotion but planned to use her servitude as a means to grow in power and strive for a position of Buku's trusted right-hand, not that the latter minded. Loyal servants were always appreciated.

Edited By NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by nate051499j6, IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, Malguis, aidan_lo, and I AM THE STRING CUTTER.

Link my discord server ( https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2)

Chapter 26: Volume 1 - Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Ainz gradually leafed through the extensive report, his skeletal fingers deftly flipping the parchment pages as he skimmed the details and soaked the important bits. Edwin VanCleef provided information about all the brotherhood activities from top to bottom. The sheer scale of the organization far exceeded even his expectations. They were no mere rabble of disgruntled stonemasons based on their origins. This was an organization that spanned the entire Kingdom of Stormwind and beyond. They were allied with all kinds of groups from pirates to creatures called Naga across the world, a criminal ring that had immense power rivaling that of nations.

There was even a short list of nobles in cahoots with them. One name, however, stood out, Katrana Prestor. It immediately caught his attention. He already suspected her involvement in the Stockade riots, but this all but confirmed it. The woman seemed to have her fingers in more pies than the entirety of Stormwind's royal court combined. Yet, there were still some things that didn't sit right with him, matters that needed to be clarified.

Ainz glanced up from the stack of parchments, his hollow gaze resting on Edwin VanCleef, who stood awkwardly before him. The scent of alcohol lingered faintly in the air, a reminder that Edwin wasn't exactly a paragon of restraint. Yet, despite the stench, the man's sharp, calculating gaze hadn't dulled. In fact, he seemed as keen as ever.

"You should refrain from using substances during working hours," Ainz commented, watching for the subordinate's reaction.

Edwin stiffened, though he managed to maintain his composure. "I assure you, I am not impaired in any manner at the moment, Lord Ainz. But I will heed your advice," he replied, his fearful words carrying a slight shudder.

It was clear that Edwin's vocabulary and general demeanor had improved over the last few days. His speech was refined and articulate, as though a buried part of him had resurfaced. Buku's inquiries into his past had revealed a tragic story - a highly educated and talented man better suited for large-scale construction and planning, forced to run a crime cartel due to the schemes of corrupt nobility. These skills, no doubt, would prove useful in the future as their domain inevitably grew, especially once they got around to remodeling their territories.

"Very well," Ainz said, his tone even. "Let's carry on. Do you know why Katrana Prestor is working with the Defias, and what her role was in the stockades incident? And what about these other nobles on the list? As I understand, your goal was to destroy Stormwind and get revenge on the nobles, not collaborate with the people you despise."

Edwin's lip curled ever so slightly at the mention of Katrana's name, a flash of anger crossing his face. "Katrana is one of the most despicable humans you'll ever meet," he began, his voice low, "but she unknowingly gave us the resources we needed to fulfill our goals. We even kidnapped the King for her after he refused to marry her. As for the other nobles, they're in the dark. They believe I'm helping her overthrow the Kingdom, that I'll serve as her patsy and their voice to the new regime. The Stockade riots were, unfortunately, stopped by some meddling adventurers. Details were sparse, but from what I hear, those adventurers were killed in Kalimdor."

It wasn't hard to see the burning hatred he felt for the nobles and likely wasn't happy either about hundreds of his subordinates being killed.

"It was I and Buku who cleared out the Stockades. It was this conspiracy that led us to seek out who ran Defias and take over," Ainz calmly explained.

Edwin's expression faltered, his eyes widening for a moment in disbelief. He swallowed hard, his posture stiffening, and his hand twitched toward his pocket before he caught himself. "You… I see," he stammered, visibly shaken "That surely does explain it."

Ainz let the man's discomfort hang in the air for a moment before continuing. "Moving on to the next point. I don't see any details about what happened to the previous King of Stormwind after he was delivered to the Naga. What became of him?"

There wasn't a lot of information about these creatures save for sparse descriptions depicting them as an intelligent aquatic race that was hostile towards almost all land-dwellers regardless of race or intent.

Edwin's face tightened at the question, "Our job was only to kidnap and deliver King Varian alive, which we did. As for what happened after, I can only assume he's still alive. Otherwise, there would have been no point in keeping him alive during the capture. The Naga don't hire mercenaries for nothing. What they did with him afterward wasn't in our deal, nor do we have the means to investigate them thoroughly."

Ainz tapped his skeletal fingers lightly on the desk, contemplating. "A fair assessment. Though it does complicate matters. If King Varian were to return one day, it would destabilize any progress we make in consolidating power, especially among the nobility formerly loyal to him. For now, however, we'll shift focus. The destruction of Stormwind is no longer our goal." He paused, looking directly at Edwin. "But the elimination of certain nobles may still be required. We'll need to rule from the shadows, through proxies."

Ever since he became an Overlord, his intellectual capabilities had only grown and his mind naturally fell into creating ruthless, calculating patterns towards everything he wasn't personally attached to, determining the most efficient, quickest, and cheapest ways to topple their leaders and take over.

Edwin's eyes lit up at this shift in strategy, even if he was still clearly disgruntled by the earlier admission. "As you command, Lord Ainz. The nobles will be dealt with as opportunities arise."

Ainz leaned back in his chair, his mind already formulating the next steps. One of the first things he and Buku had agreed on was that they didn't want to rule over ruins. No, they wanted a kingdom at its peak, vibrant with life, economy, and potential, brimming with life and satisfaction. If they could take over Stormwind through subtle means then such an opportunity would not be overlooked in their pursuit of power.

Edwin caught the thoughtful pause. "Then what are your plans, my Lord?" His voice carried a hint of expectation. "The Dreadnaught's construction is nearing completion, and our men are prepared to launch an assault on the city while Stormwind's fleets remain scattered across the seas."

Ainz's empty gaze fell on Edwin, his mind already far ahead. "The Dreadnaught's construction should continue. However, the assault is no longer the immediate priority. We will find other uses for the ship, there are other ways to use it more effectively. Meanwhile, Defias will need to be reorganized. I want the Brotherhood to evolve into an intelligence network, with all full criminal elements purged. When Buku is done with her assessments of the leaders, we will cull the useless ones and repurpose them as… undead foot soldiers." Ainz laid out the base plan, his tone calm yet ruthless.

Edwin flinched slightly at the casual mention of turning people into undead soldiers but masked it with a well-practiced nod. "Lord, if we remove the Brotherhood's criminal side, how will we fund our operations? Banditry provides a majority of our gold and food supplies, especially those targeted at the wealthy."

Ainz smiled inwardly at the question, as though he'd anticipated it, "We will gradually look for ways to harvest food in covert ways, perhaps creating a public company that works with farmers to secure food in a more… respectable manner. Self-sustainability is the ultimate goal once the labor force has been completely reorganized. As for gold…" Ainz raised a hand, the air shimmering as his inventory opened like a rip in the fabric of reality. From the tear, about fifty thousand Yggdrasil coins poured onto the ground, forming a veritable small mountain of gleaming gold next to the desk. Edwin's eyes widened, betraying the awe he still regularly felt when Ainz casually displayed his otherworldly powers to his subordinates.

"Use this to fuel the minting operation of the local currency," Ainz stated matter of factly, "Banditry can continue for now, but only to weaken the kingdom. Eventually, the people must feel safe and protected, or at the bare minimum not threatened by our forces. The nobility, however, are approved as primary targets."

Edwin cautiously approached the pile of gold, picking up a few of the unfamiliar coins and twirling them between his fingers. They were far more intricate than any he had ever seen, their design foreign to the eye. "I have never seen such coins before. Their craftsmanship is... exquisite." He hesitated before continuing. "How fast should I begin the culling of the undesirable elements?"

"I will leave it at your discretion. You know your organization better than I do to ensure the peace is kept. But make no mistake… there will be no room for error. Make sure there are no revolts," Ainz ordered, a subtle warning wrapped in the command.

Edwin swallowed, understanding the gravity of the task before him. "It will be done, Lord Ainz."

With the more immediate topics addressed, Ainz turned his attention to something that had gnawed at his mind ever since he first read the report; a rising group of adventurers. A mere group of five had managed to wrestle control of several key mines in Elwynn Forest from the Brotherhood's Gnoll and kobold allies just recently. This small group had caused notable damages to the whole organization; significant setbacks in manpower, crippling resource flow and drawing the attention of the Kingdom's military in just a few weeks.

"What of the mines in Elwynn Forest?" Ainz asked, his tone more clipped now. "I see here that a group of adventurers has disrupted operations. What is being done to regain control and finish the construction of the ship?"

Edwin's face darkened with frustration. "The military presence has increased significantly in the region, my Lord. As much as I'd like to retake the mines, our agents are laying low for a while, we judged it better to preserve what we had than to risk it all. But rest assured, Lord, we have enough metal reserves from Westfall mines to continue construction for at least three months without disruption."

Ainz considered this carefully, tapping his fingers against the desk. "In that case then, focus on reorganization of the brotherhood for now. We'll plan on how to resume control over Elvynn when the task is done and our people are ready. Later on, we will deal with the adventurers, should they grow too bothersome. The longer they think they've won, the more complacent they'll become, and that is when we'll strike."

It was better to have a cautious and conservative approach. For now, time was on his side, and if worse came to worst, Defias could go into hiding for a while and still function at a skeletal level. The more concerning issue was Katrana and her agendas. He still had no idea what she was and that meant it was better to assume the worst and consider her on the same level as him and Buku at the bare minimum, if not more powerful. It was better for him to prepare for contingencies. If it came to a confrontation, he would want to be ready for any surprises that could be hurled his way.

<X>

The chair Katrana hurled shattered against the stone wall, sending jagged splinters flying in all directions. Her fury was palpable in the air. She wanted to scream in rage and frustration. The carefully laid schemes she had woven over years were unraveling at the hands of two unknown, new creatures. The meddling creatures - Ainz and Buku - were not only spared from death by her brother's goons, but they also took over the Defias Brotherhood in one fell swoop, one of her largest controls over the Kingdom.

"Bastards! BASTARDS! BASTARDS!" Her voice trembled with rage, each word growing louder, more unhinged, until it devolved into a feral snarl that could scare armies. Katrana Prestor, the respected noblewoman, now stood at the edge of her own composure, her regal façade shattered into smithereens just like the chair she had thrown. Her normally pristine office now lay in disarray - scrolls, parchments, and once-organized plans lay scattered like the broken fragments of her ambition, fractured into bits and pieces.

The situation was spiraling out of her control. Two of the five covert agents assigned to monitor and manipulate Vancleef had already been killed and there was a chance the rest would follow soon, purged at the hands of Buku. All her plans were rapidly falling apart.

She ground her teeth seething with anger as she stomped out of her office, her heeled boots striking the stone floor with a chaotic staccato rhythm that echoed down the castle's corridors. Each step felt like a desperate attempt to hold onto her dwindling self-control. She needed to leave the castle before she lost her temper completely and started to indiscriminately kill the castle staff, which would only ruin her plans even further.

'Blinded by rage. The paths close. Death. Failure. Useless.' The whispers of the Dark God slithered into her mind like deadly venom. The sense of dread seeped into her mind alongside her already tumultuous emotions.

'SHUT UP!' Katrana shrieked internally. She wasn't a failure. She wouldn't fail. She had spent years… decades manipulating the mortal fools of Stormwind, embedding herself in their political and royal circles like an insidious parasite. Failure was not an option, it never could be.

She teleported out of the castle, appearing in the ash-covered planes of the Burning Steppes. The familiar heat and ash-choked air hit her like a wall. Beneath her feet, the cracked earth smoldered, and the sky overhead was a hellish orange, tinged with the smoke of distant volcanoes. It was here, among the molten rivers and jagged rocks, that she could shed her human guise and release her rage. Reverting to her true form as the mighty black dragon Onyxia, she took to the sky her wings, leaving behind clouds of ash that choked what little life remained nearby.

There, she didn't need to hold back. Her frustrated roars echoed through Nefarian's domain, parting clouds and stirring storms. Her lesser brethren kept a distance, noticing her flying towards the entrance into the Black Rock Spire.

'Only darkness. Drowning. Weak. All too weak. No use for me.' The Old God's whispers returned, more insidious than ever. Each word felt like a dagger twisting deeper into her pride, scraping away at the armor of arrogance she had built over centuries.

'SHUT UP! SHUT UP! I AM NOT A FAILURE!' Her wordless voice thundered through the skies, shaking the molten valleys below as she let out a roar so loud it made the mortal worms below hide in fear. Even in her true form, the whispers followed, haunting her, mocking her. Onyxia, one of the mightiest dragons to walk Azeroth, now felt the cold, creeping fingers of doubt clutch at her heart. The Old Gods, they never let her forget. Always whispering. Always taunting. Always trying to break her down.

Onyxia didn't slow down as she reached the balcony of the spire, crashing into it with full force. One of the two columns shattered under the impact as did the stone floor. A beast of her size was a force of nature, comparable to the most dangerous storms or earthquakes. Feeling pain was the only way she could keep herself from losing all control, reminding her that she was still alive and herself.

Her brother wasn't seated on his throne nor was he anywhere near either. Either his agents hadn't bothered to inform him or her bastard of a brother chose to ignore her. No minions approached her to announce his presence either.

{ NEFARIAN! } She roared throughout the spire.

Suddenly, from behind her, a commanding voice sliced through the chaos.

"Enough!" Nefarian shouted from behind her, his full authority on display. She might have been the brood mother of the black dragons, but in their father's absence, Nefarian was the absolute ruler of their aspect. His was the strength of cunning and cruel intellect, the cold, calculating ruler of Blackwing.

Onyxia reverted back to her visage and spun around to face her brother, whose piercing, silent gaze was more demanding than any shout.

"You failed to kill them and now they're ruining everything!" She spat, venom lacing her every word. Her fury could not be contained, boiling over in her voice as she stalked toward him, her hands clenched into fists.

Nefarian raised his brow slightly, more amused than threatened. In a swift and brutal motion, his hand lashed out, striking her across the face. The sound of this assault echoed through the balcony throne room. Katrana stumbled back, clutching her cheek, her eyes wide with shock as the sting of the blow radiated through her skin. The faint red mark on her pale face was a cruel reminder of her brother's superiority as dictated by their power difference.

"You better watch your tone, sister." His voice was cold, unyielding. "I am in no mood to deal with your tantrums."

Her defiance melted into a hiss, a low and dangerous sound escaping her throat, but she stepped back, knowing better than to challenge him further. Despite the pain, her pride was what truly stung. A fight with her brother was the last thing she needed right now and in terms of raw power, he would stomp her into the ground if it came to a brawl. Despite being clutch mates, Nefarian surpassed her in many ways.

"What happened this time?" Nefarian asked as he took a step towards her, his right arm ready for another strike.

"They took over the Defias!" Katrana growled, trying to keep her voice steady despite the lingering humiliation. "It's only a matter of time before they ruin all my plans and Firemaw failed to stop them!"

At the mention of Firemaw, Nefarian's eyes narrowed, a flash of cold anger cutting through his usual detached demeanor. "Firemaw is dead. The fool attacked them directly in Orgrimmar. Got himself killed like the incompetent lizard he was."

Katrana's breath hitched. Orgrimmar? How had things escalated that far without her knowing?

"We need to stop them now," she insisted. She could feel her carefully laid plans slipping through her fingers like ash in the wind.

Nefarian's gaze remained locked on hers. "I know," he replied, his tone dismissive, as if the entire ordeal was a minor inconvenience at best. "But I won't take unnecessary risks."

"The ship your pawns are building…?" He began to ask, stepping closer to her as he lowered his arm behind his back.

"It's combat-ready, but they lack ammunition. They can't use it against you," she replied quickly, sensing the shift in her brother's demeanor. She recognized the glint in his eyes that meant he was taking matters into his own hands. He was planning to deal with Ainz and Buku himself.

"Us… You are coming with me. We will deal with those insects and we will be going right at this moment." His voice was final, the conversation already over in his mind as he turned away from her and began shifting back into his natural form, the floor cracking beneath them.

The transformation was awe-inspiring. Neferian was a massive and majestic dragon, a colossal beast of earthen might mixed with the seeping dread of the Old Gods, his scales gleaming obsidian black in the dim light of the Spire. His wings, seemingly wide as the sky itself, unfurled with a terrifying majesty. He was, without question, the embodiment of draconic power; far larger and more imposing than Onyxia could ever be. By comparison, she might as well have been a mere whelp at his side.

{ Shouldn't we gather an army? } She inquired. Onyxia had never been a frontline fighter and preferred to use the hands of others to strike her enemies, hence why she had chosen to scheme her way up the political ladder.

{ In a cavern? Don't be ridiculous. Two of us are more than enough to deal with them and if they proved too difficult to kill it will be easier to retreat if we don't have to babysit an army. } Nefarian wings beat powerfully, sending gusts of hot wind across the Spire as he took flight.

{ Fine. } Onyxia replied, but she was far from convinced, following him.

Nefarian's cold, calculating voice cut through her thoughts. { You'll have to change your plans anyway. If they killed Firemaw, collateral damage will be unavoidable and that precious ship of yours is as good as gone. Perhaps force that child king to marry you right away. } Nefarian suggested.

{ I need to get rid of Bolvar first. } She replied.

{ Then do so. What is so difficult about killing one human? }

{ I can't do it openly and Shaw is not fully under my control just yet. Argh, } Her growl was filled with impatience. { I need time. }

Nefarian laughed, a dark, humorless sound. { Then be patient. I'll order the orcs to increase pressure in Redridge. That should buy you some breathing room. } Nefarian suggested his demeanor as calm as ever. Unlike his more explosive sister, he could control his emotions and not regularly fall into fits of rage, always calculating the next best way to achieve his goals.

{ That might be just what I need. } She admitted, her mind already working on how best to exploit the new chaos her brother promised to sow.

But first, they would deal with the two meddling creatures and then undo the damage the troublesome pair had caused. They were the black dragons, the pinnacle of all life in Azeroth, the rulers of the world. Whatever Ainz and Buku were, they would fall before the might of Onyxia and Nefarian - that much was certain.

Edited by NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, nate051499j6, I AM THE STRING CUTTER, and aidan_lo.

Link my discord server (https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2)

Chapter 27: Volume 1 - Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Ainz stood on the edge, overlooking the dimly lit expanse below, his glowing red eyes scanning the horde of freshly created death knights assembled in perfect formation awaiting his orders. The clank of their armor and the quiet hum of necromantic energy filled the air, a relaxing scene for his undead overlord mind.

The Defias Brotherhood, now under his iron grip, had proven a useful resource. The corpses of discarded brotherhood members were put to use daily as he cautiously increased the amount of summons and watched his energy reserves fluctuate, adding to their military and reliable labor forces.

Corpses piled up daily as the cleaning of the crime cartel progressed by the hour, and Ainz had encountered a minor inconvenience: keeping the bodies fresh for necromantic use. He glanced toward the frozen remains stacked like cordwood, neatly preserved by powerful frost magic. "An unexpected logistical problem," he muttered under his breath. Who would've thought running a criminal empire came with such... mundane concerns? The cleanup was progressing smoothly, sweeping through the ranks region by region. Of course, "smooth" was a relative term when disposing of dozens of rebellious souls in the most efficient manner possible, especially when turning them into obedient foot soldiers for his undead army, but it was being done with little issue. If anything, the more that were killed the smoother it went.

Although the list of summons differed from the game to some degree he still knew what he could summon and for what cost, at least qualitatively. For now, it seemed that building a small army with powerful undead was the best option as creating masses of zombies would be the easy part comparatively. Unfortunately, they did not provide the same benefit. A single death knight was a powerhouse that could plow through hordes of low-tier undead with ease, even when magical costs were matched.

His strategy was simple: quality over quantity. And once he had enough Death Knights to patrol his most important regions, powerful liches would come next. Each lich, a powerful necromancer in its own right, could raise and control vast armies of lower-tier undead themselves, adapting on the fly on the battlefield. They were near the apex of undeath in Azeroth, and having a few of them would ensure that his dominion would be all but unshakable against this world's standard political forces. It was just slow going, being the paranoid spender he was.

Stepping forward, Ainz began to issue commands with the ease of a general who had seen countless battles unfold before his eyes. "You three, oversee the metal works and the lumber mill area. We need more materials if we are to continue the Dreadnaught's construction. You four, report to du'Page in Moonbrook and assist her with cleansing the city of all undesirable elements. You six, deal with the gnoll clans to the west of Moonbrook."

As the Death Knights silently departed to carry out their orders, Ainz pulled out the to-do list and glanced over the next steps. He needed to give the list of orders for Edwin to issue among the sub-leaders. "That's that. Now onto the next task."

There was so much to do as building up an empire from scratch turned out to be far harder than he imagined. He and Buku were hard at work to not only shape the brotherhood according to their vision but to establish total dominion over Defias-controlled lands. Not to mention Buku had been thoroughly enjoying their newfound role as an unquestionable ruler. She'd always had a knack for leadership, but she was truly thriving with an army of underlings to boss around and do her bidding. She didn't want to be on absolute top as she had admitted that her more emotional nature wasn't the best for on-the-spot decisions, which were better left for Ainz's more cold and calculating mind, but she was more than happy to manage most of the on-the-ground decisions in turn.

Ainz had to admit that ruling over mortals came naturally to him now as long as he didn't trip over his own feet and let his human side with all its insecurities take charge. That part of him was but a faint whisper now, mostly clinging to his memories of Earth. In truth what Artemel did to him and Buku wasn't just changing their bodies and making them more powerful. The whole process was more akin to reincarnation into something far superior to a mere human, with all the mental changes that came with it.

Finding the man wasn't hard. The former kingpin of Defias spent most of his day in the cabin at the top of the dreadnought, working hard on reforms at Ainz's commands.

The undead overlord felt no need to rush. He slowly descended the fortress, walking through the cavern towards the ship. His subordinates, noticing him strolling among the mortal men and women, lowered their heads and hurried out of his path. Good. For now, fear was necessary. The hardened criminals of the Brotherhood might have been difficult to subdue, but once they saw what happened to those who dared disobey, the idea of rebellion became a distant memory and snuffed out in its entirety. Fear was a powerful tool, after all. Some had fled but they were quickly found by those loyal to Ainz and made a brutal example without any need for the Overlord to lift a finger.

He strode through the docks and up the makeshift steps leading to the top deck of the massive warship under construction. At the top, he found Buku sparring with Vanessa, offering tips and advice. The girl attacked with fierce determination, twin daggers flashing as she blitzed in a relentless flurry of strikes. Despite her efforts, Buku masterfully held her at bay effortlessly, using a single short sword in her right hand while simultaneously giving calm instructions in between parries to the young human.

Ainz watched the scene with a certain amusement. He knew that Buku had taken a liking to Vanessa who was quick to treat her like the mother she never had. From what Buku told him, Edwin had lost his wife soon after Vanessa's birth and had raised her alone as a single father, even amidst all the chaos and criminals that was the Brotherhood. The girl had felt little affection throughout her life, always striving to prove herself to the adults around her, growing whenever and wherever possible.

"Strike faster, but don't waste movement. You leave yourself too open. If you miss, I can stab you here." Buku's voice was firm but encouraging, her sword moving effortlessly to deflect Vanessa's wild stabs. "If I can block it with one hand, it's a wasted effort. Think before you strike."

"I would not miss against a human, mistress." Vanessa shot back with a stubborn scowl, lunging forward again.

Buku sighed, her expression one of exasperation mixed with amusement. "That is a stupid assumption. First, you don't know if your opponent is a human or not. They could be using a visage like I am." She sidestepped the girl's thrust, and with a casual flick of her wrist, the flat of her sword struck Vanessa's shoulder with a resounding smack. Vanessa yelped, more out of surprise than pain, and crumpled to the deck. The hard wood rattled beneath her as she struggled back to her feet, her face flushed with embarrassment. "And second, you aren't wearing heavy armor so a direct strike would be lethal. A fight where your enemy is dead matters not when you aren't capable of reporting it."

Vanessa grunted in pain, her thin frame resisting the intense training. She was tough, no doubt about that, but was still a human, fragile compared to the beings she sought to emulate.

Ainz, standing at the edge of the scene, prepared to pass them by. But just as he took a step, a sudden message from one of the shades stationed outside the cavern crackled in his mind. { Two black dragons approaching. }

Before he could get more information, the mental link cut out abruptly. The temperature in the air spiked, unnaturally hot, and the massive wood and metal door shielding the cavern entrance began to blacken, as if something monstrous on the other side was radiating pure heat.

{ Dragons, two of them this time. } he warned Buku.

Buku's demeanor shifted instantly. Her playful instruction turned cold, military-like. "We are under attack, inside the ship, now! Make sure you know where to escape if it catches fire and warn others!" she barked the order at Vanessa, who didn't hesitate. The girl's face paled, her instincts telling her to obey. Buku discarded the training sword, summoning her to flamberge and a heavy shield. Vanessa dashed into the ship without protest.

Ainz's mind raced as he tapped into his vast magical repertoire."Casting buffs and warning everyone," Ainz informed his wife while sending a message to everyone present in the cavern. There wasn't much point in ordering the humans to fight a dragon- they would be little more than fodder.

It was safe to assume that the pair of beasts would be on a different level compared to the one they dealt with in Ogrimmar, and thus, if the dragons proved too difficult to deal with he, would send all his active undead into a suicidal charge and retreat with Buku. Defias at this point were nothing more than pawns to use, though he preferred not to lose such valuable assets.

The cavern became eerily silent, the air charged with tension as everyone prepared for the worst. Buku stood ready, her posture tense but focused, knowing she would take the brunt of the dragons' attacks herself with her equipment. Ainz would provide buffs and deal ranged damage with his spells. All her stats went up significantly as her husband's buffs flew into her, she even gained the ability to fly. It was a crucial advantage when dealing with winged enemies, otherwise one would be at a massive disadvantage.

The ground rumbled beneath their feet, threatening to break. For a moment, it felt like the world held its breath. Then, with an explosive crash, the massive gate at the cavern's entrance shattered as one dragon tore through it like a cannonball. Hot on his tail came the second dragon, smaller in size but no less fearsome. Her roar filled the cavern, deafening and primal, shaking the walls as dust and debris rained from the ceiling. { Come and face us cowards! } her voice echoed in their minds with arrogance and fury.

{ Casting [Dimensional Lock] and stunning the large one with [Grasp heart]. } Ainz relayed the plan to Buku without hesitation, firing off his spells immediately. It was like watching a master strategist move pieces on a chessboard, each action calculated, each decision precise. The first spell would block any teleportation attempts, keeping the dragons trapped and within range, and the second spell would momentarily incapacitate the larger one, leaving the other one vulnerable to Buku's brutal offensive. Ainz's cold, methodical approach was the counterbalance to his wife's often reckless but highly effective nature.

As the spell [Grasp Heart] took effect, Ainz could feel the surge of magic gripping the massive dragon's heart. Even something as powerful as this beast couldn't resist, if only for a moment. The dragon's massive form shuddered as if gripped by an unseen hand, its roar turning into a guttural choke as he channeled even more power into his spell.

Nefarian, one of the mightiest dragons in Azeroth, now stood momentarily frozen, a puppet whose strings Ainz controlled.

Simultaneously, Buku shot up in the sky. Her shield collided with the second dragon's head with such force that a resounding crack echoed through the air. For a split second, Ainz watched with detached curiosity as the larger dragon convulsed, its eyes bulging in shock at the comparatively smaller creature before it. Then, almost anticlimactically, it slumped and crashed onto the dock below, splintering the wooden planks into a jagged mess as it plummeted to the ground. The sheer weight of the beast caused the dock to buckle, collapsing into the water with a sickening crunch. Three hapless onlookers were unlucky enough to get crushed beneath the beast's mass, their screams drowned out by the creature's final struggles.

Ainz's mind registered their deaths with cold indifference. Collateral damage, he thought. Acceptable losses in the grand scheme of things. They would have to be raised later as less-than-ideal undead later.

The second dragon, however, was far from finished. With a panicked roar, it flailed wildly, its wings thrashing as it recovered from Buku's attack. The creature turned its back in a desperate attempt to flee or reposition, a fatal error against the speedster. It was all Buku needed for a follow-up attack. She twisted her body, launching herself like a cannonball at her prey. Her trajectory was flawless as she struck the dragon's back between the shoulder blades. There was a sickening crunch as the dragon's spine bent unnaturally, its entire body folding it in half.

{ Buku! } Ainz shouted as she disappeared from his sight between the two sides of the unnaturally contorted dragon, blood spraying through the air.

{ Bullseye! } Buku's voice came through their mental link, brimming triumphantly. She burst from the other side of the dragon as her opponent helplessly fell into the water with shocked desperate roars.

Ainz's gaze followed its descent, noting the frantic movement of its claws in a desperate attempt to stay over the water, yet the attempts proved futile and the beast sank like a stone. The water in the cavern was deep enough for a creature of such size to get submerged completely right in front of the tip of the dreadnought.

{ Not like this! Help! Brother! Help me! } The dragon's cries echoed in Ainz's mind, a telepathic plea filled with panic and despair. The voice was unsettlingly familiar.

{ Is that…? } Buku hovered beside him and peered into the bubbling water as the beast struggled for its life. She too recognized the voice of the noblewoman.

{ Katrana Prestor is a dragon. It all makes sense. } Ainz remarked. He had suspected she was more than she appeared, but this revelation was a convenient confirmation of his suspicions.

{ Help! Please! Brother, don't let me drown! } Katrana's screams grew more desperate the more she struggled, her massive form sinking further into the depths.

Ainz watched with a detached fascination. He wasn't particularly familiar with dragon anatomy but it stood to reason that even these mighty beings needed air to survive. Soon, her struggles would cease and her lungs would burn, filling with water. It was an excruciating way to die, one that Ainz found fitting for someone who had attacked them.

{ Should we tell her? } Buku's voice was tinged with amusement, her lips curving into a smirk. { I don't feel like giving her a quick death. } Buku added glancing at the corpse of the other dragon.

{ Sure, if you want to torment her for a short while. She'll drown soon enough anyway. } Ainz replied, turning his attention to the other dragon's remains, his curiosity piqued. It wasn't every day he would have a chance to experiment with a dragon's corpse, and while the parts were most certainly very valuable, the possibility of raising it as undead was too tantalizing for an overlord like him.

Buku descended towards the water's surface, hovering above the struggling dragon. Her eyes glinted with malice as she watched Katrana's frantic efforts to keep her head above the water, swinging her sword above the overgrown lizard. { Your brother is dead, have fun down there! You get what you deserve, bitch! } Buku gloated in response, her words dripping with glee.

{ No! No! No! Not like this! No! Help me! Don't let me drown! } Katranas pleas were now little more than incoherent shrieks, the voice of a creature who had realized too late the futility of its existence against its enemies.

{ Asking me to help you after you came to kill us? Just how stupid are you? } Buku responded with laughter.

Ainz meanwhile flew toward the other dragon's corpse with an air of nonchalance, as if resurrecting such a formidable creature were a simple matter of course. His skeletal fingers infused the remains with massive amounts of necrotic energies, hundreds of times more than he used to reanimate human corpses, finally putting a slightly noticeable dent in his magical stores for a singular entity.

The necrotic energies seeped into the dragon's body, tendrils of darkness infiltrating every muscle and sinew from top to bottom. The transformation was immediate and grotesque. The once-glorious scales of the dragon dulled, taking on a sickly, mottled appearance of moss and worn stone. Its flesh decayed rapidly, sloughing off in putrid chunks as if the very essence of life was being stripped away, leaving behind a rotten monstrosity that radiated a malevolent aura. Its eyes, which once blazed with draconic fire, now opened slowly, glowing with an eerie dark red light that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of reality like its master's.

Ainz observed with a keen eye, the necromantic process a testament to his unmatched control over life and death. The dragon's maw opened, revealing rows of decaying teeth as it let out a guttural growl. "The voices?" The dragon turned his gaze towards Ainz with a questioning look. "They are gone…"

Ainz tilted his head slightly, intrigued. "What voices?" he inquired. He sensed that the dragon was firmly under his control with no hope of breaking free, so there was no reason to worry about an attack.

"The voices of the Old God." The dragon's voice was filled with submission. It lowered its head in deference. "You… so you are my new master. Very well, I will serve you with conviction."

"What is an Old God?" Ainz asked, his curiosity piqued. The implications of this were vast; the rabbit hole seemed to extend into unknown depths, and he was keen to explore it to both satisfy his curiosity and determine his safety. The idea that there were entities powerful enough to corrupt and control a being as mighty as a dragon suggested a complexity in this world he had yet to fully grasp.

"One of the primordial entities that once ruled the world." the dragon began, "N'zoth corrupted my father, Deathwing, and through him all of the Black Dragon flight. We, the dragons, were the guardians of this world, yet we were turned into its greatest threat. I and the rest of my kind worked tirelessly to set them free. If you could break the Old God's dominion over me so easily, then you must be as powerful as them. Yes, that's why I died so easily."

"Interesting. What is your name?" Ainz inquired

"Nefarian, Lord," The dragon replied, sounding eager to please.

Ainz raised a bony hand to his chin, his thoughts racing. Keeping an undead dragon of such immense size and power hidden would be a challenge. The next question was crucial. "Can you use visage?"

"With ease." Nefarian shrunk, his decayed form shifting and warping until he stood as a pale human man before him. His black hair was as black as a moonless night and his glowing eyes gave off an eerie light.

Ainz gave a small, approving nod. How convenient; a dragon in human form would be far less conspicuous. "Good. Now then, explain why you attacked us?"

Nefarian, in his new human guise, bowed his head in a gesture of submission. "You disrupted my sister's plans, Lord, and we foolishly assumed we could deal with you. Speaking of which, " he hesitated, his eyes flicking toward the still-struggling form of Onyxia in the water. "If you want to rule over the Black Dragonflight, it might be beneficial not to let my sister, Onyxia, drown. There are precious few females left and she is the current brood mother. If nothing else, she can be used for breeding purposes."

Ainz considered this. An army of dragons would be a formidable asset, even if they weren't useful against the new forces he had been just made aware of. However, loyalty was paramount and mandatory. "If she is under the control of these Old Gods, then she wouldn't be loyal to me and would need to be kept in chains, which in turn would mean controlling her children would be problematic," he replied.

Nefarian's gaze was steady, "If you could assume control over me so easily then I have no doubt you can do the same with all of my flight. We will make them all serve you, Lord. Besides, she can be used only for breeding purposes and the eggs taken away before she can affect them."

There was almost clinical detachment in Nefarian's offer as if the dragon saw his own sister as nothing more than a breeding machine used to further the goals of his new master. Not that he minded.

"We'll see," Ainz muttered, raising a skeletal hand. He cast [Levitate Object, the spell wrapping around the floundering Onyxia like an invisible hand, lifting her massive head just above the water's surface. Her scales glistened wetly, her eyes wild with panic and rage as her limbs flailed.

Buku appeared by his side, her presence as commanding as ever. "So we're letting her live? That bitch tried to kill us?" she questioned, her tone laced with irritation.

Ainz's glowing eyes narrowed. "Let's see how willing she is to serve, first. Getting an army of dragons to serve us would be beneficial, more than another corpse. If she proves to not be cooperative, I believe Neffarian can find ways to still make her useful." His voice was cold, and pragmatic, as always.

Buku crossed her arms, eyeing the flailing dragoness with a mixture of disdain and interest. "I guess. But that one said something about the voices so I'm kinda iffy." She gestured towards Nefarian, her expression skeptical.

"If he could be freed from the influence of these Old Gods, then perhaps a living dragon can be too." Ainz reasoned. His voice took on a more contemplative tone. "I think this is the best time to figure out how to do it before we have to deal with more servants. There might be some who serve these Gods among the Defias as well. And if we can handle her, we can handle the rest."

"Good point," Buku agreed, her gaze sharpening slightly. She turned towards Onyxia, her voice ringing out with authority. "So what will it be, loyal servitude with life or back underwater for undeath?"

Onyxia's eyes widened, desperation flashing across her features. "I will serve! Old Gods be damned!" she cried out, her voice strained and frantic. Her previous arrogance was replaced with sheer survival instinct, seeking anything to preserve herself.

Ainz lifted her fully out of the water, setting her down at the cavern's edge. The dragoness was a pitiful sight, her once-proud form now bedraggled and broken with wounds. Without serious healing, there was no way she would move on her own for quite some time thanks to Buku.

Buku stepped forward, a faint glow of divine energy gathering around her. She cast a healing spell on Onyxia, pouring massive amounts of holy light into the dragon, making the beast glow with a radiant golden aura. The radiance enveloped her, as it suffused every inch of her being.

During her studies about holy light late at night, she had found multiple mentions that the light could change the minds of people and make them more attuned to the light with the possibility to outright control them. With this knowledge in mind, she was putting all her effort into bending Onyxia to her will and making the dragoness recognize her as the absolute authority, pushing with all her might. Like golden chains, Buku's authority would shackle the very essence of Onyxia, rendering her unable to even think of betraying her new mistress.

With a series of audible cracks, Onyxia's bones realigned as her wings spread out majestically. Her roar filled the cavern, echoing off the walls with deep reverberation. The transformation continued until she shifted into the familiar form of Katrana Prestor. The noblewoman stood before them, dripping wet and appearing miserable.

Ainz, Buku, and Nefarian landed before her, their gazes set on her. Onyxia's eyes flicked from one to the other, assessing her new reality.

"I don't hear the whispers anymore if that's what you are asking," she stated, her voice carrying a hint of bitterness, yet laced with a grudging respect. "But I sense a certain control engraved in my very being. It seems my new mistress intends to keep me on a short leash." Her lips curled into a toothy grin. "How devious. I like it!"

"Behave and you won't ever feel it," Buku warned.

"Of course," Onyxia purred, her demeanor shifting to one of compliance. "I believe there is a lot to discuss now that we are under new leadership, don't you agree, brother?" She shot a glance at Nefarian, who stood silently, his expression one of unwavering loyalty to Ainz as he too nodded.

"Indeed." Nefarian agreed.

Edited by NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, I AM THE STRING CUTTER, and aidan_lo.

Link my discord server(https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2)

Chapter 28: Volume 1 - Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Ainz and Buku strode through the corridors of the fortress with the two dragons in tow. The expansion of their power base and worldly influence was an unexpected but pleasant surprise that needed to be addressed immediately. Ainz brought everyone to the fortress's penthouse area and used one of the empty rooms. The two dragons watched curiously as Ainz cast [Create Item, summoning a sleek round table of black marble and ten matching seats, their surfaces polished to a shine. He motioned for everyone to sit, allowing them to sit first.

Ainz then settled beside Buku and sent a message to Edwin ordering him to appear before him.

"Let's start with the quick version of what you two and the black dragons in general are up to and we can go from there," Ainz stated as he summoned a map, unrolling it on the table, ready to put up-to-date notes.

Nefarian leaned forward, his eyes alight with pride. "I rule over half of the Blackrock mountain and control the Burning Steppes to the south of the mountain." He pointed to a spot on a provided map."Currently, the orcs and ogres I rule over are pushing into the Redridge mountains and waging war on the Firelord Regnaros' forces who control the other half of the Blackrock Mountain and territories to the north." His voice was measured, every word carefully chosen. "With the help of Onyxia, I am not only trying to rebuild our Dragonflight but infuse our children with magics of other aspects and make them stronger than any other Dragonflight."

Ainz nodded thoughtfully, his fingers steepled before him. The idea of breeding dragons infused with powers from various aspects intrigued him, especially with necromantic energies to convert enemies to their side without his presence being needed. It was a bold strategy, one that could yield an army of unparalleled strength if handled correctly.

Buku, however, got straight to the point. "How many black dragons are there?" Her tone was sharp, demanding efficiency.

Onyxia's eyes flicked to her brother before she spoke. "Only one hundred and forty adult ones are accounted for. The rest went with our father to outland, but only he returned. Additionally, there are six hundred children and a few hundred unhatched eggs."

Onyxia's gaze lingered on her brother, her expression a blend of irritation and concern. "Unfortunately, with Nefarian now being undead," she added, her voice tinged with bitterness, "I will need a new consort and there are… slim pickings among the rest of the adult black dragons."

The air in the room grew colder, an unspoken tension crackling between them. It wasn't just about power or territory; it was about survival, about legacy. Onyxia's need for a new consort wasn't just a personal matter; it was a matter of ensuring the future of their kind.

The sudden turn in conversation caught Buku completely off guard. Her usually composed demeanor twisted into an expression of pure revulsion. She blinked, trying to process the words that had just been uttered. "I'm sorry, what? You two are… mating?" Her voice filled with disgust, her gaze snapping between the two dragons.

Onyxia, in her human guise, shifted slightly in her seat, folding her arms defensively. "Yes. My brother is… was the strongest available male black dragon." She met Buku's stare with a flicker of defiance, her lips curling into a smirk. "Oh, don't look so disgusted, mistress, we are not the only clutch mates that have produced offspring. It is not rare among dragons, for we live long lives and have comparatively lower numbers and reproduction rates compared to the inferior races."

Buku's eyes widened, the pieces clicking into place in the most horrifying way possible. "And that hasn't produced some defective freaks?" Her voice was sharp, incredulous, and utterly repulsed. She glanced between Onyxia and Nefarian, both of whom seemed disturbingly nonchalant about the whole incest affair. Worst of all, if she understood the term "clutch mate" correctly, it meant they were essentially twins, with the same genetic material; the worst type of incest.

Nefarian tilted his head, the faintest hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Why would it? Dragons are artificial beings created by titans. We do not have lesser blood of mortal beings." His voice was calm. "But Onyxia does raise a valid point. As an undead, I cannot impregnate her, but I am curious if workarounds exist. We may have to experiment-"

"Just stop." Buku cut him off, raising a hand as if to physically ward off any further explanation."I don't care what you do in private, but for fuck sake, don't discuss it here!"

Ainz sat there in silence, his skeletal visage giving nothing away, refraining from commenting on the matter. Internally, he was considering the cultural norms of dragons and making plans on how to handle them accordingly. As a being who had shed his human form, his sense of morality and cultural standards were more fluid, more adaptable, more primitive almost. Dragons, he reasoned, were incredibly different from humans in almost every way. Their ways were alien, ancient, and not bound by the same taboos and approvals. Still, the revelation was unsettling, especially considering how nonchalant Nefarian and Onyxia were about it. It was a reminder that even in their human forms, these creatures operated on a logic far removed from that of mortals, a logic his own wife had yet to shed.

Nefarian, picking up on the tension, turned to Ainz, his tone becoming more formal. "Understood. Lord, would you prefer if I avoided details when reporting?"

Ainz paused, considering the question. "I prefer to be informed about your plans to increase the number of dragons and what resources are required for the task," he said slowly. "but keep it in writing, and only report to me."

Nefarian nodded, a small, respectful bow of the head. "As you command, Lord."

Onyxia remained silent, her gaze darting between Buku and Ainz. She seemed to understand that while she and her brother found nothing wrong with their practices, this was a delicate subject in the presence of their new masters, particularly the former.

Ainz shifted the conversation back on track. "Moving on, is there anything else?".

Nefarian hesitated for a moment, as if weighing whether to bring up another potentially controversial topic. Finally, he spoke."The rest of the dragons will need the same cleansing that I and Onyxia received and, even if freed from whispers, some may decide to remain loyal to N'Zoth. The same goes for lesser races under my command. There are a lot of cultists worshiping the Old Gods and might oppose your goals, especially among those close to the front lines." A twisted smirk curled at the edges of his mouth. "I believe you will get mountains of corpses to work with after I cleanse my… your new domain."

Ainz leaned back, fingers steepled in front of his face, a contemplative look on his skeletal features before speaking, "Carry it out- " He was cut short as the door creaked open. "Ah, Edwin, Vanessa, glad you could make it. Take a seat." He gestured toward the empty chairs.

The atmosphere in the room shifted the moment the VanCleefs entered. Edwin froze, his eyes narrowing in disbelief as he caught sight of Onyxia. "Prestor? Is this a joke?" He tried to pull back, but Vanessa dragged him forward with an exasperated sigh, clearly annoyed by his reluctance.

Onyxia's lips curled into a sadistic smirk, her eyes glinting with malevolence. "My my, if it isn't my favorite unwitting toy? We serve the same master now."

"Don't gloat, beast," Edwin shot back. His gaze burned with a mix of hatred and helplessness as he stared at the dragoness, fully aware now that the noblewoman he had been so close to bringing down was one of two dragons that had just attacked their base. The realization was like a dagger to his pride, twisting and tearing at the remnants of his defiance. He had never stood a chance.

Onyxia couldn't resist twisting the knife further, her amusement evident in every syllable. "I guess it's my turn to explain my dealings." She took perverse pleasure in watching Edwin's composure crumble, knowing that his dreams of revenge against her and the rest of the Stormwind nobility were now impossible and little more than ashes in the wind.

"Go on," Ainz replied, his tone flat, though his red eyes gleamed with interest. He shot a glance at Edwin, a silent command to listen and learn where his true place now lay.

Edwin sat down beside his daughter, his posture rigid with suppressed fury. His hand rested on the hilt of his blade, knuckles white as he fought to maintain his composure. His eyes bore into Onyxia, but he knew better than to act on his immense rage.

"Let's get the past out of the way so the little mortal man knows where he stands in the pecking order," Onyxia began, her voice syrupy sweet with an edge of menace. Her gaze flicked to Edwin, relishing the tension in his posture, the way he hung on her every word with a mix of hatred and helplessness. She reveled in it, the power she held over these lesser beings, and now she even had proper backing to do it without fear of failure or repercussion.

"I was the one who orchestrated the Stormwind riots," she continued, her tone casual as if discussing the weather. "It was my agent that killed the queen to make way for me to marry the dimwitted king, carefully planted among stonemasons." Her lips twisted into a sneer. "Unfortunately, the fool refused my generous order and needed to be reeducated."

She paused, savoring the look of horror on Edwin's face. His eyes were wide, disbelief mingling with the dawning realization of just how deeply he had been manipulated. Onyxia's gaze bore into him, her eyes glittering with sadistic amusement. "I used my agents to help form the Defias brotherhood from the ground up, guiding them to build the dreadnought and planting the idea to destroy the city in retaliation." She chuckled darkly. "Oh, don't look so surprised, I knew about your plan to kill me. You're too weak to ever do so, and as for the men you trusted so much…" She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You have no idea how many of them work for me."

Edwin's face turned ashen, a cold sweat breaking out on his brow. The room seemed to close in around him, the walls pressing in as the weight of his failure crushed down on him like the fathoms of the deep oceans. Every plan, every carefully laid scheme, from over the years unraveled before his eyes, exposed by the intricate web of manipulation spun by the very creature he had sought to destroy. His grip on his blade tightened, but he knew it was futile. There was no striking down a dragoness of such power, especially not in the presence of Ainz, who seemed indifferent to the unfolding drama or at least not interested enough to interrupt anyone.

After all, Edwin knew he hadn't earned enough favor yet with his direct superior, unlike his daughter who had managed to get in Buku's good graces almost instantly and displayed signs of near-psychotic loyalty towards their common masters.

Vanessa placed a calming hand on her father's arm, her eyes flickering with a mixture of anger and something more calculating. She understood the game better than her father, the subtle dance of power and control, especially now with new pieces on the board. This was not the time for rash actions, not with their new position so precariously balanced.

"Lady Buku caught them." Edwin spat, each word was a knife aimed at Onyxia's pride.

Onyxia, unflustered, tilted her head slightly, her expression one of mild amusement and condescension. "Unimportant detail. Of course, someone like Lady Buku would catch them. I now know my mistress is far superior to me." She dismissed the notion as easily as one might swat away a bothersome insect. "But let's carry on. My goal was to destroy the Kingdom of Stormwind and provide fertile grounds for my kind while we worked on ways to free the Old Gods, given its rich lands and abundant prey."

Ainz watched the exchange with an air of detached curiosity. Onyxia's revelations were intriguing, if not entirely unexpected. He had suspected that her influence ran deeper than she let on during their initial meeting, but to hear it laid out so plainly was enlightening of the schemes this world's inhabitants could do. It also served as a stark reminder of the ruthlessness of the world they were now entwined in, reaching decades if not centuries into the past. This wasn't a realm for the faint-hearted or the weak-willed. The mention of the Old Gods served as a reminder of just how deeply their tendrils had rooted themselves into the world's politics and power structures, suggesting anything alive was susceptible to their influence.

"Where is the King of Stormwind now?" Ainz asked. This was the most pressing question.

Onyxia's confident facade cracked for the first time. She shifted nervously, her gaze faltering. "With the naga on an island called Alcaz off the shore of Dustwallow marsh." She paused, her eyes flicking towards the map, seeking refuge in its lines and symbols as she pointed out the geographic location. "They are direct creations of N'Zoth and would never change their loyalties."

Ainz's gaze dropped to the map, his eyes scanning the area she mentioned. His mind worked swiftly, weighing options, calculating outcomes. The naga were a known factor; ruthless, fanatically loyal to the Old Gods, and exceedingly dangerous to the common soldier across most races. "Does the former king of Stormwind know you are behind his kidnapping?" he probed.

"No. He has no idea. But it would be safer to eradicate the naga and recapture Varian." She suggested, a hint of self-preservation masked beneath her offer of advice.

Nefarian, sensing an opportunity to curry favor, spoke up with eagerness that belied his usual stoic demeanor. "I will make preparations to deal with the naga and send some of my best to do the job. We must be careful and a quick but efficient eradication of the entire island population is required, otherwise these creatures will just disappear between the waves and strike at a later date." Nefarian offered. He was eager to prove his worth to his new master as now, unlike with the Old Gods, he felt a genuine connection with the Overlord and wanted to excel among Ainz's servants and take the position of his trusted advisor and the number three rank right after his master's wife.

Ainz nodded slightly, acknowledging the offer calmly. "Carry it out. For now, you both will halt all advances and deal with the reorganization of your forces with information we will send you later. Edwin, you will work with both Onyxia and Nefarian and make sure there is no inner conflict."

"As you command, Lord." Edwin bowed his head, not daring to protest the decision. His pride had taken a severe beating today, but he wasn't foolish enough to challenge the overlord's command. It was plain to see that Ainz and Buku put a much higher value on their dragon subordinates, as each was worth hundreds of men, and all he could do was keep his head low and carry out orders without protesting. He was now only minorly important, only useful for keeping a few ogres and the fragile humans in line.

"I will do as told." Onyxia nodded. The game was far from over, and she knew that her master's favor could be as fickle as it was absolute. Her gaze lingered on Ainz for a moment longer, calculating as she turned with great malice to smirk at Edwin.

"There might be a slight problem with halting all advance, my Lord," Nefarian noted. He folded his arms, the sharp glint of his eyes betraying his unspoken concerns. "The Burning Steppes is a wasteland and as much as I prefer to replace the mortal worms with easy-to-control golems and undead, they are useful for now. But to keep them in line, they must be fed. The resources are… scarce, at best, and raids keep their numbers culled and resources flowing."

Ainz leaned back slightly, tapping a skeletal finger thoughtfully against his chin. "I see." he mused, "In that case, I will leave it to your discretion for now until I have a clear picture of how to proceed."

"We should go take a look at our new domain. Blackrock Mountain sounds like a place we could use as our capital. We did want an underground palace after all if we could get it." Buku chimed in, breaking the momentary stillness. Her voice carried a spark of excitement, a contrast to the somber mood of strategic planning, at the idea of the new.

Ainz nodded. "True. I think we can do it right now. Can either of you use teleport or cast a gate?" he asked, turning his gaze toward the dragons.

"I can," Nefarian replied eagerly.

"Yes," Onyxia chimed in with equal enthusiasm.

"Great then-" Ainz began only to be interrupted by Buku.

"Darling, we have two freaking dragons, we are NOT teleporting there!" Buku interjected, her voice rising with incredulous excitement. The prospect of flying through the skies on the back of an ancient dragon was simply too good to pass up for her.

"I would be honored to carry you, Lord." Nefarian gave a solemn yet prideful offer, unwittingly adding even more fuel to the fire.

"In that case, I will carry Lady Buku." Onyxia joined in, her voice laced with eager competitiveness.

Both dragons, despite their fearsome reputations, had become nearly obsessively eager to serve in such a short period of time. 'Is this the result of replacing one master with another?' Ainz could only speculate on the matter. But as they said, don't look a gift horse in the mouth. He and Buku had gained two loyal and relatively powerful servants to use as they saw fit.

"Let's go." Buku grinned, tugging at Ainz's arm with childlike enthusiasm. Her earlier calm demeanor was replaced by barely contained excitement.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Ainz replied, chuckling softly at how impatient Buku was to fly again.

Once outside, once they passed through the destroyed gate, an unsightly mess that would need to be repaired and hidden as soon as possible, Onyxia and Nefarian reverted to their natural forms.

Ainz climbed onto Nefarian's back, gripping the jagged, bone-like spikes protruding from the dragon's neck. The texture of his decayed scales felt cold and brittle beneath Ainz's skeletal hands, but they held firm under his grip.

Beside them, Buku excitedly mounted Onyxia, who appeared far more pristine in comparison to her undead brother. Onyxia's obsidian scales shimmered like polished onyx, catching the light as she flared her wings, eager to take off. With a powerful flap of her wings, she launched into the sky with reckless abandon, sending even more wind into the destroyed entrance. Buku let out a delighted laugh as Onyxia executed a sharp spiral, twisting through the air in a dazzling display of aerial prowess.

Nefarian, sensing that Ainz wouldn't appreciate him showing off, took flight in a more level-headed manner with a single straight push, following his sister who was already making loops around them.

{ The Mistress and my sister seem to get along well. } Nefarian commented as both he and Ainz observed the dragoness perform all sorts of reckless tricks in the sky while Buku squealed in unrestrained delight, urging her to be even more reckless. Onyxia's antics were flashy and frivolous, the kind of behavior he had always considered beneath his more dignified nature while he glided around her.

{ Seems so. Has your sister always been this reckless? } Ainz asked as the pair whizzed by. Onyxia's latest stunt had her skimming the treetops with reckless precision, narrowly avoiding a collision with a particularly thick oak tree.

{ She is more, how to put it… hot-headed than me. This reckless behavior is not too much out of the norm for her, but it is clear to me that Onyxia is desperately trying to butter up to the mistress. } Nefarian replied with an annoyed grunt. All he could do was match his master's calmer and calculated demeanor which came more naturally to him now as they were connected through the bond of a master and servant, coupling with his already calculating demeanor and new undead physiology.

Ainz chuckled inwardly, finding a certain charm in the whole situation. { Buku's got her match then. } He couldn't help but suspect that Artemel might have had a hand in orchestrating the events and causing them to meet. His own servant seemed like a good match for him as Nefarian provided a smooth and pleasant ride moving through winds with ease and even shielding him with magic, almost too good.

The landscape below them quickly transformed from the vast, golden fields of Westfal into the thick forest of Elvynn. Ainz sighed as Onyxia dove down and disappeared between the trees, only to re-emerge with a cow dangling from her jaws. She made a show of it, tossing the creature into the air and catching it in a single gulp, much to Buku's delight.

{ I do not require food anymore, master. Though a snack wouldn't hurt. } Nefarian commented with a hint of envy in his voice.

{ Go on then. } Ainz permitted, tightening his grip on the dragon's spikes.

The mighty dragon dove down and flew just above the large trees with frightening mastery, soon reaching a tiny farm. There was a brief, panicked moo as a cow glanced upward, its eyes widening in terror, but it was too late. Nefarian's jaws closed around the beast with a crunch that resonated through his entire form, the sound of bones splintering and flesh tearing as blood flew past due to how quickly they were moving.

{ It's so rare I feast on cows these days. My domain has slim pickings when it comes to meat. } The dragon commented.

{ We'll resolve that problem in due time. } Ainz replied, assured, his grip firm as Nefarian's wings unfurled once more, catching the air in a powerful sweep that launched them back into the sky. Nefarian's speed was frightening, far surpassing the gryphon he flew from Ironforge to Southshore and was easily the fastest he had ever traveled besides through portals.

As Nefarian gladly chewed on his treat, they reached a mountain range and flew up revealing ashy plains devoid of vegetation. In the distance, a mountain that dwarfed everything Ainz had seen before slowly entered his line of sight despite the high speeds they were traveling. If hallowed out properly, it probably could put the great tomb of Nazarick to shame with its sheer proportions, including all of its floors and extended rooms. The terrain below was barren, covered with little more than ashen winds and tonnes of gravel. In the distance, the massive form of Blackrock Mountain dominated the horizon, its jagged peaks stabbing into the sky like the teeth of some ancient beast. Rivers of molten lava snaked down its slopes irregularly, their crimson glow casting an eerie light across the place that flickered and danced like the fires of Hell itself.

Beneath them, the lands were teeming with activity. Orcs, both green-skinned and grey-skinned, flowed like swarms of insects across the ashen plains. Their settlements sprawled in every direction; ramshackle towns, crude fortresses, and watchtowers stood like sentinels against the bleak landscape. Orcs numbering in the thousands went about their business, seemingly indifferent to the dragon soaring above their heads. To them, the sky was just another battlefield, and dragons were not an uncommon sight as their rulers.

{It's like watching ants moving about an anthill,} Ainz thought, marveling at the sheer scale of life teeming below. The ominous black peak would be the seat of his power. This mountain would become the capital of the Empire of Nazarick, he could already see it.

Editing by NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, I AM THE STRING CUTTER, and aidan_lo.

Link my discord server( https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2 )

Chapter 29: Volume 1 - Chapter 29

Chapter 29

The interior of Blackrock Spire left a lot to be desired, to say the least. Its halls, crudely carved from the mountain's dark stone, stretched endlessly in a labyrinthine way, lit only by the rare flicker of torch flame or lava flow. The air was dense with the terrible stink of rot and decay, a combination of rotting food and unwashed bodies, forming an almost tangible miasma that clung to the skin and muffled the senses.

The inhabitants of Nefarian's kingdom, a diverse group of creatures and beings united in their servitude to a singular superior species, watched the new rulers pass with a mix of anxiety and intrigue. Orcs lurked in the darkness, massive wolves serving as their mounts growled low as they skulked. Ogres lumbered about with a bulky, brutish grace, while goblins skittered like rodents all throughout. Ainz and Buku even spotted the dragonoids; over two-meter tall, bipedal beings with dragon heads and covered in black scales that shone like obsidian. They resembled those Ainz remembered from Yggdrasil, as if these served as an inspiration for their game counterparts.

"We use mortal races to create them. Or in rare cases, they are given natural births if the female picks a humanoid mate," Nefarian explained.

Ainz grew more intrigued by this twisted kind of creation. It seemed the draconic hierarchy extended much beyond the typical scales and wings and into hybrid offspring, which had all sorts of possibilities springing into his mind for farming useful undead. Nearby, another type of dragonspawn roamed the halls. These were akin to centaurs, with four legs and enormous power, and their forms were a bizarre hybrid of dragon and beast. And even these, by his estimations, would make decently powerful undead for this world.

The farther they went into Blackrock Spire, the more it became clear that the structure was a jumble of haphazard construction made over the years, a patchwork of crude tunnels and chambers that had been built and remodeled with no regard for shape or grace, purely for dragon and dragonoid functionality. Nefarian's lair was enormous, containing tens of thousands of creatures, yet it lacked artistry and creativity. If the Great Tomb of Nazarick was an expansive masterwork of terrifying elegance, this was a rough draft - a crude sketch scratched on the back of an extremely large napkin.

Their last stop was the throne room, perched precariously on a balcony that jutted out from the mountainside. Ainz could see the tactical benefit of a dragon's vantage point - the ability to leap to the skies at any moment. However, from a defensive sense against virtually anything, it wasn't ideal in the slightest. A direct assault by an aerial force or particularly long-ranged projectiles could effortlessly penetrate the area in question, leaving them defenseless. Nefarian may have ruled by terror and raw violence, suppressing any possible threat of anyone reaching the area through blood and claw, but Ainz wasn't one to leave such obvious flaws unaddressed.

Buku commented, { I think we'll need to rebuild the whole city. } Her tone was disapproving. Her gaze moved around the throne area, taking in the jagged stone and lack of aesthetic concern.

{ It'll take a lot of work and shouldn't be our priority. } Ainz replied. The necessities of their expanding empire surpassed any desire for instant opulence or aesthetic consistency. For the time being, function ought to take priority over form.

{ At least you're giving me resources to decorate our palace area. This is ours now, we can liven it up a little! } Buku didn't back down.

Ainz let out a resigned mental sigh. He knew Buku well enough to understand that once she set her mind on something, there was little point in trying to dissuade her; she would have her way. { As long as you don't go overboard, you can do whatever you want with our living space but don't forget to vet our new servants as well. }

{ Don't worry darling. } Buku's voice softened slightly, an almost affectionate tone creeping into her thoughts. { I don't plan to slack off. I know how important it is to start things right. I know we're not taking a vacation for a few years until things are under control. Speaking of which, do you want me to free the rest of the dragons or will you try it yourself? }

{ You know how to deal with the living so I'll leave it to you. Even weaker dragon spawns are more useful than a singular undead. } Ainz saw no reason to mistrust his wife. She was the closest person to him, his partner in all things. The thought of betrayal from her wasn't even a distant possibility in his mind.

{ Got it. } Buku replied and turned her attention to Nefarian, who had been silently following their exchange, walking beside them. "Gather all dragons for me. I will remove the Old Gods' influence."

"As you command, Lady Buku," Nefarian replied, bowing.

"How long will it take?" Buku asked, eyes fixed on Nefarian with the intensity of a drill sergeant inspecting her troops.

"At least two or three days," Nefarian replied thoughtfully, his eyes flicking toward a distant section of the spire. "Should we also gather all the eggs?" There was a weight to his words, an unspoken concern about the future of his kin. The influence of N'Zoth ran deep, like a poison in the bloodline, and there were no guarantees that the dragons born in the future would be free from it as long as Deathwing lived. There never was confirmation that Deathwing had perished when he fled from the combined might of all other aspects, just that he had never returned.

Nefarian's account of the black dragonflight's turbulent past was a complicated story of his kind to his new masters as they toured the spire. How his father lost his sanity and attacked the other aspects during the first demonic invasion ten thousand years ago. He had deceived them into crafting the Dragon Soul, an artifact of unimaginable power that could bend the will of all dragonkind. Deathwing sought to assert his dominance, not just over the other aspects, but over the world itself. Yet, in a twist of fate, the artifact was ultimately destroyed during battle, and by a mortal human nonetheless.

It was then when he was left in charge of the greatly diminished black dragonflight and needed to find a way not only to rebuild but to make his kind thrive so he could rule alongside the Old Gods when they broke free and remade the world in their image, gaining the power to rule over all living mortal races.

The reason for the black Dragonflight still serving the Old Gods was likely licking his wounds somewhere hidden from the sight of the Dragon Queen Alexstrasza and the rest of the aspects who were eager to end the black dragons for their crimes, past and present.

Ainz nodded, absorbing this intricate web of lore. The downfall of the black dragonflight was a cautionary tale, a reminder of the dangers of hubris and unchecked ambition. It was clear that, for now, they must tread carefully, reinforcing their power and solidifying their positions before considering any expansion.

"I think it will be safer if we keep them deep in the Spire and fortify the place. With all that can go wrong, I prefer to build a proper defensive force before we dream of expanding. There's always a chance that others of our kind are walking this world," Ainz declared.

"Understood. Onyxia, gather your eggs and deliver them here." Nefarian bowed again and then barked an order at his sister.

The command was met with a hiss from his sister. Onyxia's eyes narrowed as she turned to glare at her brother, showing no desire to listen to him "I heard what the masters said." she retorted, her voice dripping with defiance, not wanting to be seen as lesser than her brother and take orders from him.

{ Reminds me of certain siblings. } Ainz playfully made a comparison. The dynamic between Nefarian and Onyxia bore an uncanny resemblance to a certain pair of brother and sister he was familiar with.

{ I doubt we'll be at each other's throats any time soon even if we get him here tomorrow. } Buku's response was softer, touched with a note of melancholy. { I miss the bastard. } She might not have outwardly shown it, but the thought of her own brother, left behind in their world, a world now so far removed from this one, weighed heavily on her. As powerful as they were, there were things yet beyond their grasp, and bringing over her brother was one of them.

Ainz glanced at Buku, her face composed but her eyes showing an inkling of sadness. He placed a hand on her shoulder, in silent understanding. Onyxia, sensing the awkwardness, backed down with a small bow of her head, "I will see to it immediately," she responded, her tone devoid of the defiance it had conveyed minutes before as she took off to the skies.

<X>

Buku glanced over the crowd. Over a hundred dragons in their visage forms - humanoid disguises of various shapes and sizes - stood in orderly rows, a sea of eyes trained on her. Among them, dog-sized whelps flew around, little more than overgrown puppies with wings, too young to understand they needed to behave.

As with all babies, Buku found them cute and couldn't fault them for just wanting to play around. Despite being draconic in nature, their behavior was no different from any other newborns, exploring their world with an endearing lack of caution and an incredible desire to learn and do more. They zipped around in haphazard patterns, their tiny wings flapping furiously to keep them aloft as all dragons were born with all motor functions and could survive in the wilds on their own, but sentience wasn't immediate and developed in the first few months after they had hatched, assuming they lived that long.

Her eyes shifted to the older child dragons who had taken the forms of human children. They stood in lines as rigidly as their older siblings and parents, shifting in place from the tension.

She rose from the stone throne that once belonged to Nefarian and stretched. The throne itself was a crude thing, more a block of hewn rock than a proper seat of power, but it had sufficed for the dragon prince in his reign of terror and thus would have to do for her. As she stretched, cracking her neck with a satisfying pop, she prepared herself for the task ahead. It was time to see if she could take over the entire black dragonflight and wrestle them away from the Old God's maddening influence, putting them under her control instead.

As Onyxia and Nefarian had proved, just freeing them from the whispers didn't change their personalities and the most likely outcome was that the black dragons would be near psychotic lunatics by default, with some rare, more level-headed exceptions scattered here and there. Thus, it was necessary to implement deep-seated control immediately after the removal of the Old Gods' influence to ensure that the peace was kept.

Her mind briefly wandered to Ainz and Nefarian, who to not unnecessarily risk things had wisely teleported away to the Defias hideout with the rest of the undead present in the spire, leaving her to conduct this ritual alone.

Onyxia standing by her side was the only authority keeping these dragons in check, at least for now.

Taking a sharp breath, Buku closed her eyes, reaching inward to feel the mighty power that lay dormant within her. It was time to find her limits, to test the very boundaries of the power she wielded ever since she had arrived in this world. The energies within swirled, promising depths of power akin to a great whirlpool. As she called forth the holy light, she felt it respond not just as an element, but as an extension of her will, demanding its presence to cleanse the minds of hundreds of dragons and replace the control of the Old Gods with her own. The air around her lit up and then, with a brilliant burst, her golden wings unfurled in an instant. They stretched out from her back, radiating pure white light with the brilliance of a miniature sun each. A halo blazed into existence above her head, its light gentle in contrast, illuminating her features with an ethereal glow. She was a vision of divinity, a goddess incarnate.

A wave of holy energy surged forth from her, rippling through the air like a tide of purifying fire. It washed over the assembled dragons, filling the throne room and spilling out into the surrounding areas like a natural disaster. The light was warm, soothing and filled with seemingly unfathomable power. It seeped into every nook and cranny of the spire, chasing away shadows and pests. As the wave moved through the dragons, they started to murmur among themselves for the first time in years. Their eyes widened, pupils dilating as if a veil had been lifted from their minds. Even the whelps, who had been darting around, stopped mid-air, their tiny mouths agape as they stared at Buku, their eyes field with reverence at her sheer power.

She could feel them, each and every one of them. Their thoughts, their emotions, their very essence for her to take. It was as if a vast network of minds had opened up to her. This would be their true allegiance; a loyalty that went beyond mere fear, born from unshakable reverence and indomitable belief. They would see her as the highest authority, with Ainz, their Supreme Ruler, standing beside her as an equal, at her command.

Somewhere, she thought, Deathwing, if he even dared to show his molten-scaled face, would face the shock of his life. His own kin would rise against him without a moment's hesitation, ready to tear down the very father who had once ruled them.

<X>

The moment of truth had finally come. The atmosphere in the Blackrock Spire throne room was heavy, filled with an almost tangible sense of anticipation. Ainz sat upon the single throne, beside him, Buku perched casually on the armrest, her elbow resting nonchalantly on his shoulder plate.

To anyone who dared question it, her relaxed pose was almost a statement 'I'm not just here to fill space. I am to be feared, respected, and revered every bit as much as he is.' Her wings of light, she kept active at the moment purely as a demonstration, folded neatly behind her, a constant reminder of the radiant power she held in reserve. And her gaze? It swept across the crowd, calm and imperious, lingering just long enough to make even the boldest and most experienced feel a faint tremor down their spines.

The throne room was packed with the most formidable subjects in their emerging empire. Dragons of every size stood in neat rows, their eyes locked on Buku and Ainz with a devotion only barely short of fanatical worship. But they weren't alone. Clustered around the towering dragons stood the leaders of ogres, orcs, trolls, and even the notorious Defias Brotherhood, a ragtag band of humans who had previously sworn allegiance to no one. All had gathered here today, some with barely concealed unease at the summons and the presence of each other, to witness the founding of the Empire of Nazarick.

Nefarian, the eldest black dragon, stood proudly to Ainz's right. His usual arrogance had given way to an awe-filled reverence, sending murmurs flying among the weaker races. The mighty dragon, who once would have sneered at any notion of bending his will, now watched Ainz with unblinking loyalty. To Buku's side stood Onyxia, who seemed just as much a part of the throne room as the obsidian pillars and molten streams themselves. A sliver of a smile played across her lips. She knew her place, she knew exactly whom she served, and was glad to do so.

In the crowd, Vanessa VanCleef, Buku's former handmaiden, stood on the periphery, arms crossed and jaw clenched in barely masked envy. The poor girl could hardly look at Onyxia without that familiar pang. Her position as Buku's closest confidant had been usurped by a dragoness who, to be fair, could both advise on state matters and turn enemies into cinders with a mere exhale. Vanessa still held her title as one of Buku's handmaidens and was personally trained by her mistress, but now she was just one among ten, a fact that stung her pride more than any wound.

The other handmaidens, a collection of young, black-scaled dragon girls with the appearance of strikingly beautiful yet slightly terrifying teenage humans, stood nearby, each possessing far more power from birth than Vanessa could ever hope to gain. With a thought, they could transform into scaly beasts larger than war horses, unleashing dragon breath strong enough to melt steel. Vanessa might have been used to dealing with troublesome foes, but compared to these dragon whelps, she was merely a talented mortal.

As the last of the servants arrived and took their spots, Nefarian took a step forward and announced, "Our master, Emperor Ainz Ooal Gown is ready to address you."

The room descended into silence so complete that even the flickering of the lava seemed to pause in respect. The dragons, newly bound to the will of Nazarick, would not dare interrupt, and the orcs, trolls, ogres, and humans, looked on as though their very lives depended on their obedience. Drawing the ire of a hundred dragons, they all knew, would mean the end of their bloodlines, an eradication swift and final.

Ainz shifted, the bones of his skeletal hand curling around the armrest with a faint creak of metal. "Thank you, Nefarian. I will be brief! Today you have all gathered to witness the birth of a new Empire! I am proud to announce that this is the day the Empire of Nazarick begins and you are its first citizens!"

The words fell like a hammer blow, sparking a surge of silent pride in the room.

"Make no mistake," he continued, "there is a lot of work ahead of us to establish our rightful place among the other powers of this world, but rest assured," his eye sockets flared with an intense red light, "we will claim what is ours! Serve us with all your hearts and rest assured that we will watch over you all! Betray us…" He allowed a pause, the silence thickening, "and you shall wish you had never been born." As expected, he took out the whip after presenting the carrot.

The room seemed to shudder in response as if even the stone feared to cross him, which it probably would considering how dangerous its new owner was.

Buku glanced out over the room, catching glimpses of the dragons lowering their heads slightly and most of the ogres and orcs nodding in obedience, pushing down those who were so shocked they couldn't bow down themselves. It was a thrill to see the mixture of fear and respect filling their eyes, referencing the power she and Ainz held. Their journey would be rocky, no doubt about it, but it had a grand start as any.

Their rule had begun and they had no illusions that the start would be a rocky one. The remnants of the old horde had countless enemies and the black dragons alone had a list of grudges long enough to wrap around the spire twice and then some if written out on paper. But the room pulsed with conviction now, conviction to follow their new rulers who could take them beyond what they had had under the old leadership.

The Empire of Nazarick had indeed taken its first breath, and she and Ainz stood on the precipice of something greater than any had seen.

<X>

Later, in the depths of the newly claimed fortress, the scene was a stark contrast to the grandeur of the throne room. The bedroom Ainz and Buku now shared was a masterpiece of luxury, decorated with everything the couple could think of. Dark stone walls, enchanted with protective spells, enclosed a space filled with ornate furnishings, accompanied by lights flickering in the magical lamps. Although Ainz had night vision and could easily read in complete darkness, he chose to leave the lights on for aesthetics. The castle area in the deepest depths of the Blackrock Spire took shape at a rapid pace and their quarters were the first to be finished in mere days after the creation of the empire, a great feat all things considered.

The centerpiece of the room was their double bed, crafted from enchanted materials stronger than the hardest steel, yet deceptively delicate in its appearance. The mattress was made of the softest feathers the Brotherhood could get their hands on, and the sheets were woven from enchanted silk that shimmered faintly in the dim light from Yggdrasil game items. It was a bed fit for the finest royalty.

Ainz sat upright, holding a book as he read about the history of Dalaran, the mage city in the north that had been razed and rebuilt after the Third War. The city had stood proud for centuries, only to be brought low by the demon lord's attack. Now rebuilt, it was made a floating citadel far above the grounds with the help of a few dozen of the most powerful mages on Azeroth performing one of the most complex spells ever conceived.

Ainz knew that he wanted to visit this city when Nazarick was established enough for him to be received as an honorable guest, not an undead monster feared by all, so it would have to wait on his bucket list.

Beside him, Buku lay in her natural form, partly engulfing his skeletal frame as she slept. In just one day she had learned to reshape herself in a vaguely humanoid form to, as she put it, to become a proper slime girl for him. It was an amusing thought, inconceivable in his previous world beyond mere fantasy fiction. But now it was just another part of their new existence.

In this form, Buku made no sound, no breath, and no heartbeat. Only the slight vibrations emanating from her gelatinous form in short rhythmic intervals signaled that she was, in fact, asleep. It was a peculiar sensation, to have someone so close yet so silent.

Although she didn't need to sleep, she still preferred to do so. Ainz, on the other hand, saw no need for such a time-consuming activity, choosing to use his time to read and learn as much as he could. He turned the page with [Move object, engulfed in the tale about the fabled city that had stood proud for centuries only to be razed instantly during the war.

His gaze returned to the book, his mind half-occupied with the events of the past few weeks. So much had happened in such a short time. He and Buku had become more than human and were tossed into this new world filled with magic and wonders. They had accomplished their first goal - they had formed a nation to rule over.

And that was just the beginning. The Empire of Nazarick was still in its infancy, and the challenges it would face were many. Enemies loomed on all sides and allies were scarce in a world where power was the only true currency. So much needed to be done to ensure they kept what was theirs now, and so little time to do it.

Then there was the matter of Itsuki. They still needed to find a way to bring him into this world. And what of the abilities that were either still unexplored or locked away by the mysterious entity, Artemel? Ainz had no doubt she watched their every move. Her motives and desires were as puzzling as they were threatening. The knowledge that there existed a being far above them in terms of power and knowledge was a constant reminder of the precariousness of their position. He could only hope she was entertained enough to not think of making their lives even more difficult, she surely could in a heartbeat if she wanted to.

Ainz closed the book with a soft thud, setting it aside. His eyes glowed in the dim light as he stared into the darkness beyond. They were the Supreme Beings of Azeroth, yet they weren't invincible. How the twists of fate turned out, only time would tell.

Edited by aidan_lo and NabeisWaifu.

Proofreading by IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, I AM THE STRING CUTTER, and aidan_lo.

Link my discord server(https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2)

Chapter 30: Volume 2 - Chapter 01

Volume 2: The Blackrock War

Chapter 1

Rage. Endless, burning rage was all that his heart held at the moment. It seethed through Varian Wrynn's veins, hotter and more unyielding than any fire. The king of Stormwind, shackled like an animal in a dark, waterlogged dungeon, held hostage by some of the most vile creatures he'd ever encountered: the Naga. It was almost laughable, how these serpentine abominations, a degenerated breed of former night elf nobility who, alongside their accursed queen, had betrayed Azeroth to the demons ages ago, dared to try breaking him with their torture. He felt a bitter sense of irony. Once royalty, they were now traitors and monsters, and here he was, royalty and defiant.

Chains dug cruelly into his wrists, holding him tight against a damp stone wall, his skin covered in dark bruises and oozing cuts from repeated escape attempts and torture. The salty seawater seeping through the cellar walls stung each wound like acid, making the pain that much more excruciating over time. They had tried every torture method they knew in an attempt to break him, their methods crude but effective, pressing him close to the brink of death, only to wrench him back by healing him, and then they would start anew. But they had underestimated him greatly. Varian had never been perfect - no, far from it. But his will? Unbending. They could break his bones, scar his flesh, and crush his ribs, but his spirit would never yield. Starved, beaten, violated, all he could think was about his hands around the necks of his tormentors, and that was all he ever thought.

His hair, once regal and decorated, now hung long and tangled around his face, wet with a rancid mix of sweat and saltwater. Despite weeks of deprivation, his frame was still large and powerful. The blue of his eyes - icy, piercing - held a defiant flame that had yet to be extinguished.

His vision was blurry as he scanned the small stone cellar, half-blind from days of darkness, sleeplessness, and blood loss. The lamp they kept burning low was his only measure of time, flickering weakly and casting faint shadows across the stone walls as if the days and nights had blended into one endless nightmare. Occasionally, he could almost swear the shadows moved, slithering around the edges of the room.

With his muscles raw and torn, he pulled against the chains, his rage giving him the strength of a man twice his size. They wouldn't budge, of course; forged by magic and reinforced by the Naga's dark arts, the chains only bit deeper into his wrists, cutting into flesh. Still, he strained against them. His teeth ground so hard to the point of cracking and the faint taste of blood tinged his mouth, thick with iron. He spat, the mixture of salt and blood hitting the stone floor like many other fluids in the past. The visions in his mind grew darker, turning his rage into a twisted comfort for his barely sane mind. Visions of snapping bones, of hands wrapped around serpentine throats, of fangs torn from gaping mouths. If he could see the Naga Queen's face, he'd relish watching the horror dawn in her eyes as she realized she'd failed to break him.

He'd hallucinated often over the past few days, and his mind had brought him some cruelly painful companions. He'd seen his wife, her kind face looking down at him, so real he'd almost forgotten he was chained entirely. He'd seen his son, his own flesh and blood, who needed him now more than ever. The poor boy had already lost his mother; Varian would be damned if he let himself die here and abandon him to the cruel politics of the world.

He'd even seen his father, who had been murdered so many years ago in cold blood, standing silent and strong, a reminder of the legacy he needed to live up to. Sometimes, it wasn't his family he saw at all, but himself - almost unrecognizable, wild and primal, more beast than man and chained as such. In those moments, he could almost feel claws in place of hands, sharpened canines in place of his blunt human fangs. A hunter's instinct surged in his veins, demanding freedom, demanding a fight for his freedom and revenge.

Then, something moved in his peripheral vision. His instincts flared, primal and unbridled, and he snarled, the sound tearing from his throat—a deep, feral growl that echoed in the confined space. There was someone, something in the cellar with him, watching, a new presence.

"Show yourself!" He called out, his voice raw and grating, coarse from days of silence and improperly healed wounds.

The silence only deepened, there was no answer. Frustration and anger swelled in his chest, and he rattled his chains, letting loose a feral scream more akin to the howl of a powerful wolf through his jail. The presence responded in kind. A howl that shook him to his very core sent shivers down his spine, pausing his rage. His vision swam, and suddenly, the dank cellar gave way to dense, shadowy woods.

It was night, and his chains were gone. His wrists, sore and raw, were free. His body was unshackled, unimpeded by the bonds that had once held him. Around him, thick trees stood, towering into the sky like silent sentinels. His eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness, sharpening, taking in every detail as if they had become something more animal than human. His bare feet pressed into the cold earth, damp with moss and littered with sharp stones and twigs that dug into his skin. Every scratch, every cut he gained fed his anger, each sting reminding him of his freedom.

Far off, a wolf howled, its call resonant, filling the air with an ominous, primal energy. A predatory grin twisted his lips, he wasn't the prey here, he was the hunter. Whatever this presence was, he would find it. He would tear it apart, with tooth and nail if he had to.

Moving through the trees, he crouched low, muscles coiled, instincts sharper than any animal. He moved more like a beast than a man, stalking forward with no regard for the brambles tearing at his legs, the leaves that left red welts across his face, or the stones that chipped away at his nails. His senses were supremely sharp, every scent and sound heightened to the extreme, and the presence grew stronger with each step. It led him deeper into the forest, drawing him closer, and daring him to keep up. It was a relentless pursuit, a silent, shadowy dance under the cover of the dark woods. The closer he got, the more alive he felt, his blood singing with the thrill of the hunt.

Finally, he emerged into a clearing bathed in moonlight, and there, in the center, stood a wolf. Unlike an ordinary wolf, this one was massive. Its sheer size, enough to dwarf Varian, and there it was. Its fur was white as freshly fallen snow, each hair glinting with an ethereal glow under the pale light. Its eyes were pools of molten silver, radiating both ferocity and timeless wisdom. Those eyes bore into Varian, stripping away every pretense, every shield, leaving only raw will and stubborn defiance against all those who had stood against him. The beast's massive paws sank slightly into the soft earth as if the ground itself struggled to bear its weight, slowly approaching him.

Somehow he knew the name of this entity. He was standing before Goldrinn. The wolf was judging him for reasons unknown. If this was how he died, then Varian was ready to take on this impossibly powerful beast and fight till his last breath. His chest heaved, the sweat trickling down his battered body shimmering faintly in the moonlight, preparing for the fight of his life.

'Your ferocity rivals mine, mortal.' Goldrinn's voice reverberated in Varian's mind.

Varian didn't respond. The statement hung in the air, its ambiguity grating on Varian's already fraying patience. He squared his shoulders, glaring back into the wolf's shimmering gaze, teeth bared.

'Embrace my gift and become unrivaled among your kind.' the wolf continued.

Varian's lips curled into a snarl, his mind still clouded. He could only vaguely remember who he was. To take this creature's gift was to lose himself to his primal instincts. He couldn't do that. He needed to retain his humanity for Anduin, his son, for his people, and for his kingdom.

The clearing seemed to shimmer, the air thickening with tension. The power of Goldrinn pressed down on Varian, heavy and suffocating, like the weight of a mountain on his chest. His thoughts wavered for a moment, the primal instincts Goldrinn awakened tugging at the edges of his consciousness. A growl bubbled in his throat, unbidden, as his fingers curled into fists itching for a fight.

Varian twisted his neck until it cracked audibly as if shrugging off the oppressive weight of the moment. His thoughts flashed with painful clarity: every mortal who had tried to embrace the wolf god's power had lost themselves in it. No, he wouldn't, couldn't, fall into that same trap. This was another battle, another fight for his life, and he wasn't about to lose. He twisted his knuckles with a resonating crack, he would take the wolf's power for his own, but he would never let it consume him. With this intention his mind cleared, he now knew what the beast was. The night elves spoke of wild gods. The beasts of immense power that had aided them in the past. Goldrinn was one of these wild Gods, a primal essence of ferocity and violence.

The wolf's presence grew even larger, filling the clearing with an overwhelming aura. Goldrinn's lips curled back, revealing gleaming fangs that could shear steel with their might. Yet, there was no immediate violence, only a deep, guttural growl. Varian could feel the wolf testing him, pushing the boundaries of his resolve.

This wasn't a battle of physical strength. It was something deeper, more primal; a contest of wills. And only the one with the most determination would come out on top.

With deliberate slowness, Varian spread his arms wide, the movement both a challenge and an invitation. "Come at me!" he shouted. It was a dare, born from the same stubborn, iron will that had carried him through countless battles. Except this time his battle wouldn't be one of muscle but one of mind and soul.

The wolf faded from his vision and he found himself back in the cellar, chained to the wall. The rage that now swirled in his soul dwarfed everything he had felt before. The power of the wild wolf cursed through his veins, straining against his mortal frame.

The chill of the chains clamped around his wrists suddenly felt insulting, the greatest he had ever known. With a feral scream, he twisted his arms, his muscles coiling with inhuman power. The chains groaned, resisting for only a heartbeat before snapping in his grip like brittle twigs, shards clattering uselessly to the floor. No longer confined, he strode towards the thick wooden doors that stood between him and freedom, the doors that had taunted him with every hour spent in this wretched cell. He lowered his shoulder, summoning the force within him, and slammed his frame against the barrier with all his newfound might. Wood splintered and burst, fragments flying as the door gave way under his new, terrifying strength, as resistant as a wet napkin.

The sudden freedom was intoxicating, but there was no time to savor it. A naga guard slithered into view, its serpentine body undulating with unnatural grace as it approached. Its scaled torso glistened in the dim torchlight, greenish-blue hues shifting like oil on water, unnatural in every way. The creature's humanoid upper body was a grotesque mimicry of man, its muscular arms clutching a long spear with a viciously barbed blade that had torn into him many times before. Eyes like gleaming coins locked onto him, radiating malice and hunger.

His captor moved towards him with a defined purpose, and that purpose was to recapture him. "Back in your cage, warmblood," it hissed, voice guttural and wet, like water bubbling through a cracked pipe.

Varian didn't answer; words were wasted on monsters. Instead, he lunged forward, easily avoiding the weapon's pointy tip. With a single fluid motion, he drove his knee upward, slamming it into the creature's ribcage with a sickening crack as the beast doubled over with a strangled gasp. His prey was defenseless now, ripe for the slaughter. Without hesitation, Varian seized the broken chain still dangling from his wrist, his torment now his weapon. With a quick, brutal motion, he looped it around the creature's thick neck, its cold iron biting into scaled flesh.

The naga thrashed, its tail lashing wildly, but Varian's strength was unrelenting. He pulled harder, the chain tightening like death's noose. A final, violent jerk snapped the creature's neck with a crack, its body collapsing limply on the cold damp floor.

Varian picked up the spear, testing its weight and balance. The weapon was crude but effective, designed to inflict maximum damage for minimal effort. He hefted it in his hand before striding forward into the twisting labyrinth of corridors, knowing he had to move forward. The air was thick with the scent of salt and decay, and the walls seemed to pulse with the damp, living quality of an underwater cavern. Shadows danced along the walls as torches ever-present flickered, casting grotesque shapes that writhed like the very naga who infested these halls. And infested they were, by the dozens every moment.

More of the damnable monsters came to stop him and deprive him of his freedom. More fell by his hand by the minute. He stabbed, slashed, kicked and punched, and even bit. He was ferocity itself and they could only fall before his might. The dark corridors twisted and winded like snakes filled with foul creatures to the brim, yet none could stop him.

Not the bulky berserkers wielding weapons larger than him nor the grotesque naga sorceresses with their twisted magics barely resembling the eleven women they once were could stop him. Varian was relentless. He fought with a ferocity that left the creatures stunned, his every movement an extension of Goldrinn's primal might as he ripped and tore through their numbers. He stabbed and slashed, his muscles straining with every strike. When weapons failed him against his enemies, his fists took over until the enemy was dead, and when even that wasn't enough, his teeth found purchase in scaly flesh, bone, and organ. He became a blur of violence, a whirlwind of rage that the naga could neither comprehend nor withstand.

He fought for his freedom tooth and nail and no matter how many came he did not stop, did not slow down. The spirit of Goldrinn guided him forward, empowering him. Finally, his tired damaged eyes were met by the sun's rays shining on the thick canopy of a marshy forest. He didn't recognize the place. The crude wooden buildings surrounding the entrance of the dungeon were of human design but that didn't say much.

'I will guide you. Trust your instincts.' came Goldrinn's voice, a growling whisper in his mind. The words carried an authority that needed no explanation.

Varian tightened his grip on the spear, his knuckles whitening as he set off westward. The path was fraught with more naga, but they fell quickly under his assault. He moved with a singular purpose, every swing of his weapon driven by his burning need for freedom. The shore of a sea came into view only a few minutes later with water as far as the eye could see. Without wasting time he dropped the weapon that had served him well and waded into the water, muscles taunt in anticipation of what was to come next. The icy waves crashed against him, but he pushed forward, each powerful stroke propelling him farther from the shore.

Luckily the nagas had stopped the pursuit, likely thinking him a fool who would soon drown. And in any other circumstance, they would be right, but his imprisoners didn't know the fury he held within his heart. He would reach the next shore no matter how far away.

The sea was relentless, the waves rising and falling, exhaustion was slowly catching up, and yet the shore was nowhere to be seen. His muscles burned with exertion, threatening to give out at any moment, and the salt stung his eyes, blurring his vision, but he refused to stop. He could feel Goldrinn's presence within him, the wild god's power surging through his veins. He had to swim, he had to survive.

The sun slowly moved across the sky as the only companion in the desperate king's quest for survival and freedom. The calm sea proved easy to move through, but its size was daunting.

At last, a faint shape broke the horizon. A shore. Varian squinted, his vision blurred by exhaustion and salt. The distant strip of land was hazy and indistinct, but it was undeniably there. A jolt of hope surged through his limbs, dulling the ache that had been gnawing at him for hours.

Salvation at last.

As he drew closer, the shore revealed itself in more detail. Its brown, brackish vegetation was a far cry from the inviting beaches he had once known and loved. The muck of mud clung to the roots of gnarled trees, and the shoreline itself seemed almost alive, a writhing mass of reeds and mangroves and wildlife. Not the kind of paradise he would have wished for, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

Dustwallow Marsh. It had to be.

No matter where he was, he would find allies. He had heard of this place. If he was right, then the city-state of Theramore was his best bet. Jaina Proudmoore, the Lady of Theramore, was a steadfast ally. Neutral she might be, but her honor for her promises was as ironclad as her sorcery was formidable against her enemies. He believed could trust her enough to know she would not to stab him in the back, something he could no longer say about most of his former peers.

As he stumbled ashore, his body finally began to betray him as his strength was rapidly running out. His muscles trembled, his breaths came in ragged gasps, and his limbs felt like dead weights dragging him down. The fire of Goldrinn's spirit alone wasn't enough to keep him going forward. He needed food and rest for his body, even if his mind screamed at him to keep moving.

He began to travel north, keeping the shoreline within sight as he trudged through the thick undergrowth. Each step sent squelching sounds into the humid air, the mud threatening to suck him into the ground. A peculiar shape caught his eye, a massive turtle roaming the shore. Its shell was streaked with algae, and its head bobbed lazily as it contentedly chewed on the marsh grass.

The slow creature looked harmless on the surface but it was better not to underestimate it, it had survived here for many years and could survive many more if he wasn't careful. Varian turned towards the forest, his sharp gaze scanning for something more manageable. With his hands still raw from his escape, he grasped a sturdy stick, snapping it off a tree. It would serve as a makeshift weapon, preparing for whatever fate threw his way. With careful precision, he used the jagged edges of his shackles to scrape and sharpen the stick into a crude spear.

Emerging from the forest, he charged toward the turtle at frightening speeds, his movements a blur. The sharpened stick plunged into the creature's thick neck with a sickening crunch. The turtle let out a screech that echoed across the marsh, sending leaves flying and wildlife fleeing. It thrashed wildly, but its slow bulk couldn't outmaneuver Varian's supreme agility. The mighty beast collapsed in a heap, its cries fading into gurgles as it breathed its last breath.

Varian crouched beside his fallen prey, his chest heaving. There was no time to waste. The marsh's humidity made fire almost impossible to produce, so raw meat would have to suffice. His instincts of humanity recoiled at the thought, but his desperate hunger roared louder. With the stick, he pulled out the chunks of meat from the shell and consumed them, blood smearing his face and dripping down his chin as he ate, each bite pulling him closer to becoming a full animal. Yet he had no other option, Varian knew that with an empty belly, he would never have the strength to reach Theramore.

After eating his fill, Varian scavenged the area for supplies. A bag crafted from rotting vines lying on the ground was sturdy enough to hold enough food for a few days. He filled it with chunks of turtle flesh, slinging it over his shoulder like a grim trophy. Rejuvenated, he resumed his journey northward after burying the rest. He moved north with determination to survive and reach his ally, taking only short naps during the middle of the night to preserve his mind. His bare form was ill-prepared for the cold rain that often fell in the region, adding another layer of hardship. His mind grew more delirious by the day, the white wolf walking beside him on the empty beach as a silent companion, pushing him ever further.

Varian found comfort in the companionship of the spiritual creature who had found a home in his heart. They now were inseparable and he would be forever bound to Goldrinn, having gone through thick and thin with the god.

After what felt like an eternity, the sight of Theramore's walls broke through the haze of the marsh. Relief flooded Varian's battered frame, though his legs were too far gone to quicken their pace. They were so shredded he left bloodied footprints with every step, his body so exhausted he shook constantly. His bruises and cuts ached with agonizing pain but at least he was alive and free.

The guard stationed on the stone bridge separating Theramore from the wilderness noticed his approach.

"Halt stranger," one of them barked, his tone cautious.

Varian raised a trembling hand, his voice hoarse and barely audible. "I am… King Varian Wrynn… I escaped captivity… " The effort of speaking felt monumental, and he wavered on his feet, swaying. " Tell Jaina-"

His words trailed off as his knees finally buckled. Darkness swept over him like a tidal wave. Exhaustion had finally caught up to him and he collapsed on the spot.

Editing by NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, fvvck, and aidan_lo.

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Chapter 31: Volume 2 - Chapter 02

Chapter 2

The power structure Nefarian had established left much to be desired, if it could even be called a structure at all. On paper, it was an alliance between the dark horde led by Warchief Rend Blackhand, with his faction leaders as his subordinates, and Black dragons with Nefarian at the helm. In reality, the "alliance" was a dysfunctional pit of vipers, to put it generously. It was more of a constant tug-of-war between various factions fighting for resources and influence with lots of infighting, treachery, and sabotage to even teach Earth's corporations a lesson or two. The only thing spared was Nefarian and his experiments, who stood untouched by it all. And it all was seemingly by design as if mortal races fully united under Blackhand could wipe out dragons through sheer numbers if they went on an all-out suicidal war. It was less of a military coalition and more of an elaborate game of "Who Wants to Stab Their Ally in the Back First?"

This sort of governance would spell doom for the empire and regular cullings of the upper echelons would be a grim necessity under such a system, resulting in inefficient use of resources. The alternative possibility; mind-controlling every subject into perfect obedience, wasn't an option either. Total domination might ensure compliance, but it would smother innovation, ambition, and the fragile spark of loyalty born from the genuine trust he wanted from his subjects. Ainz understood that a sustainable empire required more than fear or force; it needed a foundation of mutual cooperation and a shared vision for the greater good by all contained within. To achieve this, he needed to understand the wants and needs of his subjects, from the strongest to the weakest.

Thus, he convened a gathering of the various leaders in a conference room while Buku, together with Vancleefs, were making plans for a cultist hunting force as the old god's influence was a constant threat and needed to be addressed immediately. The dark stone hall seemed to drink in the light of the countless flickering candles, their pale flames casting long, sinuous shadows that danced like specters of power. The atmosphere was heavy, Ainz could only compare it to villains meeting in their lair to plot a world takeover, but then again he and his subordinates fit the bill to the Tee by his previous world's standards.

He sat at the head of a long, polished black table with Nefarian to his right side. The dragon for now was still in direct control of nearly all Blackrock spire and the surrounding Burning steppes, but he would step back and take upon more assistant and researcher roles once his input wasn't as necessary anymore as the dragon's primary goal now was to strengthen the black dragonflight and do research regarding chromatic dragons while simultaneously planning the foundations for the necrotic Dragonflight with him at the helm.

On the left of Ainz was a diverse group of leaders whose reasons for ruling and attendance ranged from deeply personal grievances to far-reaching dreams of dominance. The difference between them gave a clear image of the divided alliance he hoped to bring together into something resembling cohesion at this meeting.

Closest to Ainz sat Rend Blackhand, the self-styled Warchief of the 'Dark Horde' or 'True Horde.' His title carried a weight of irony, for though his forces were a shadow of the first Horde's might, Rend clung fiercely to the notion that his faction was the rightful heir. His claim was bolstered by bloodlines - he was the son of Blackhand the Destroyer, the first Warchief. Rend's ancestry gave him an almost palpable sense of entitlement, with every action imbued with the swagger of someone who believed their place at the table was predetermined.

Rend was massively built, his scarred grey skin stretched taut over immense muscles that seemed more stone than flesh. His spiked pauldrons protruded dangerously outward, each spike dulled by years of battle and the blood and bone of his enemies. His face was as grim as the orcish legends that preceded him, the embodiment of orcish brutality and aggression. His right eye was covered by a single black eyepatch, while the left glared with the intensity of a smoldering forge. His wiry grey hair and beard framed a mouth that was constantly twisted into a grimace as if the place itself offended him.

Further down the table sat War Master Voone, the crazed voice of the forest troll tribes. Trolls were less populous than orcs under Blackhand's banner, but their ferocity in battle made them indispensable allies - or dangerous enemies if deemed beneficial. Voone epitomized this wild energy of his people. His lean, sinewy frame was draped in animal pelts and adorned with crude fetishes, charms that jingled softly whenever he shifted his weight. His face was a riot of color, painted with jagged streaks of blue and white that mimicked the tribal markings of his people. A mane of wiry green hair burst from his head like an unruly bush, raring to go. His yellowed tusks curved outward like sickles, ready to impale his enemies.

Seated a few spaces down sat Urok Doomhowl. He ruled over all Spire's ogres and had done so for two decades through his puppet Highlord Omokk, killing anyone who dared to challenge the highlord and thus keeping himself in the shadows. From a few interactions Ainz had with the ogres, it was easy to see they were often smarter than they led on, their biggest setback was the difficulty in expressing themselves through speech. Just because one couldn't speak properly, didn't mean they weren't intelligent - it just served as a disguise to hide their intelligence.

Another Ogre, Gorlop, commanded the Firegut Ogres living in the Burning Steppes, a slightly smaller ogre group. This clan was far more independent than the rest and ran a mining operation within Nazarick's domain and regularly traded with the dark horde. Ainz noted this with interest, this much freedom was problematic for his reign. Of course, private companies would be allowed to exist, capitalism was fine as long as it was regulated, but if Firegut ogres didn't become part of the Nazarick Empire, they couldn't be permitted to do as they pleased in Nazarck's lands as they did now.

There were lesser representatives present as well, like Brorg Shadowfall who stood in for the warlocks of various lesser clans. The older orc had the same graying, almost rotten skin Ainz had anticipated, with veins of fel magic pulsing beneath the surface as the one Ainz met in Orgrimmar. His sickly neon-red tint in his beady eyes was unsettling, their light seemingly too bright for such a decayed frame.

The hunched figure oozed fel magic which Ainz was both cautious and curious about. Fel magic was one of the most potent magic out there, but it came at a steep cost. It consumed flesh and soul as currency for its use unless a wielder was a perfect demon, exchanging lifespan for power. Brorg's hollowed cheeks and gaunt figure were a testament to this, having turned a possibly healthy figure into little more than twigs. Yet, there was power here, waiting to be tasted and harnessed. Ainz shelved this idea for later study.

The last one present was a neurotic-looking goblin named Krixixx, also known as the Master Elemental Shaper. His stature barely allowed him to peer over the table's edge, but what he lacked in height, he more than made up for in reputation. Krixixx had a nervous energy about him, his spindly fingers constantly fidgeting with a shard of Elementium - a legendary material capable of holding vast magical energies and could be possibly used as a catalyst to create new divine tier gear.

Despite the circumstances of his presence, having been enslaved by the Black Dragonflight along with many of his kind, his skills were beyond reproach. Few across Azeroth could claim the mastery over Elementium that Krixixx wielded, and Ainz saw potential in retaining such talent under better terms. The goblin's bulbous eyes darted around the room, betraying his anxiety. His green skin shimmered with a sheen of slick sweat, and the constant twitch in his oversized ears made it seem as though he were perpetually listening for an explosion that only he could hear.

"I have gathered all of you here to establish how things will be run from now on and to address the pressing issues that threaten Nazarick's stability." Ainz began.

Before he could elaborate, Rend grunted with the bluntness of an orc who cared little for ceremony, "Food".

"Silence!" Nefarian roared in response, making the whole table shudder. The dragon wasn't one to tolerate interruptions, and his reputation for cruel and sadistic punishments ensured that even the most stubborn among them hesitated before drawing his anger, fearing his retribution.

But Ainz was unimpressed. With a wave of his hand, he quelled the tension. "Let him speak. We are here to get input on issues, not brush them aside. I will invite all of you to speak freely but remain mindful of your position."

Ainz then addressed Rend, "Continue."

The Warchief of the Dark Horde didn't flinch at Nefarian's display. Instead, he continued, his voice calm and steady, "Emperor, we lack food. The raids in Redridge are not enough to feed our people. We need the whole region to establish farms and the staging point for further raids into human lands."

His words carried the heavy practicality of a soldier, but the subtext was clear; without food, there would be no Horde to command.

"Da small ones grow up weak. No new warriors for da horde if we let dem starve." Voone joined in. His sharp tusks and wild gestures punctuated the urgency of the problem, and the room buzzed with murmured agreement. Even if they were from rival groups, if one group turned to starvation and the humans put up too much of a fight for one reason or another, it would be their turn to become pillaged.

"Yes, I am aware that food is a pressing issue. I have a potential solution in mind, but we will keep the option of invading Redridge in mind." Ainz tapped his fingers against the stone table, the sound echoing like a death knell that silenced the group.

He planned to test the super tier Creation spell which could terraform large areas and hopefully create permanent green areas with rivers and lakes in his domain for sustainable farming. As for rain, he could periodically utilize 'Change Weather' which would work as a permanent solution especially if a spell could be repeated by the warlocks or at least automated with his abilities. Best of all if one of them wasn't enough they could repurpose the spell as a group ritual, enabling it to be cast anywhere.

Ainz turned his attention to the orc, "Rend, how many soldiers are under your command? Although the dragons and I could deal with organized invasions just fine, I prefer to rely on regular warriors for defense and occupation of new lands," Ainz inquired.

"Around twenty thousand, give or take. About forty thousand if we arm anyone who can carry a weapon," Rend answered.

"Does that include ogres and trolls?"

"Yes," Rend admitted, his gruff voice tinged with frustration. "Our numbers have been steadily dwindling. The constant siege on the lower Blackrock has bled us dry. Emperor, if you are as mighty as Nefarian claims, you could break the siege for us and let us raid the Blackrock Depths."

The veiled challenge in his tone was unmistakable to everyone in the room. Ainz tilted his head, silently observing the orc. The room seemed to grow colder as he considered his response. 'Orcs and their obsession with strength. I guess some demonstration won't hurt.'

It was both a weakness and a strength in their culture, keeping the strong in place regardless of whether they were competent in the mind or not. Still, challenges to his authority couldn't go unanswered.

"I want a detailed plan for an assault and intelligence on what we'll be facing before committing to such a campaign," Ainz said in response.

He leaned forward slightly, his red orbs blazing with an unsettling intensity. "And Rend, if you think you can challenge me, do it now. I will let you live once. After that, insubordination will not be tolerated." Ainz let a sliver of his [Aura of Despair] seep out, an invisible wave of terror crashing over the room like a tidal surge.

The effect was immediate. Rend's confident posture faltered, his massive fists trembling as if the weight of a mountain had settled on his shoulders, straining with all their might. Around the room, lesser lieutenants shuddered uncontrollably, their eyes wide with primal fear as they subconsciously backed away in their seats from their new ruler.

Only Krixixx and the elderly orc warlock Brorg remained unaffected in their own strange ways. The goblin gawked at Ainz with his jaw nearly unhinged, awe written across his jittery features as he shivered. The warlock, on the other hand, lowered his head, seemingly absorbing his dark energies, the old orcs face twisting into an unsettling smile.

"Are you… one of the old ones, Your Imperial Majesty?" Krixixx croaked, his voice barely a squeak as heads turned to him.

Playing into their fears could yield results, but he had no interest in being mistaken for those insidious forces. The Old Gods, with their eldritch schemes, were beneath him - quite literally. "No, my wife and I are known as Supreme Beings, and we stand above the Old Gods." Ainz went with a slight bluff which was substantiated in fact to at least some degree. If he and Buku could usurp the Old God's control, then they had to at least part with them.

Krixixx's reaction was predictably over the top. He jumped from his chair and prostrated himself, crying out, "Deliver us to the new age, to the promised paradise!"

"Rise," Ainz commanded, waving a skeletal hand. "Such declarations are unnecessary. I want my subjects to live happy and fulfilled lives, serving our common cause. We will build this paradise together." He fixed his gaze on the goblin. "Speaking of which Krixixx, you and your kind are no longer slaves and will work for proper wages. I ask you to work out all the details, but I prefer no one left and your kind continues serving me."

"Thank you, Great one, your kindness knows no bounds," Krixixx whimpered.

"Good, take your seat," Ainz replied, canceling his aura and turning his attention back to Rend.

"I see that neither I nor all my people ever stand a chance to oppose you," Rend stated solemnly, striking his chest with his fist. "We will serve you with devotion, Emperor."

"As is expected. Now let's see if I can do something about the food problem. Follow me." Ainz stood up and opened a gate behind him to the top balcony of the tallest spire overlooking the Burning Steppes.

The spacious stone balcony, carved with intricate runes of ancient craftsmanship, jutted out like a sentinel into the ashy wasteland of the Burning Steppes. It provided ample space for Ainz and his entourage to stand, though most gave the Overlord a wide berth, more out of reverence than need. The air was thick with scorched heat, each gust of wind carrying ash that clawed at skin and eyes as a bitter reminder of the land's desolation. Ainz, ever impervious to such discomfort, raised a skeletal hand and invoked a shimmering barrier to block it regardless.

The group gazed out over a land that seemed to have been cursed into perpetual lifelessness, a land they were familiar with from the ground up. This land needed to change to serve its people and he would be the one to bring in the change. Ainz clapped his hand and changed weather to heavy rain, the gray clouds that were already above from preparation now pouring water by the bucketful, quickly overcoming the heat that at first evaporated every attempt at cooking the ground.

From what he knew the entire region was like this because of Ragnaross and his scorching energies seeping into the very land. If any change was to stay, he would have to neutralize these energies sooner or later, but to get to the Firelord, the entirety of Blackrock depths needed to be conquered first. It would take time, but this would make a decent stopgap measure.

Ainz took a long breath, feeling the air clear up with rain catching the ash particles despite not having lungs. For someone who had grown up in a dystopian nightmare, the clean air was already a gift even if he didn't need to breathe.

The first step was done, now came the main event. Ainz raised his arm as magical circles appeared with a flash, rotating around him. A beam of pure magical energy shot in the air as the [Creation] spell took its roots, spreading across the skies. It was time to test his limits in both skill and raw power.

He reached out, extending the spell range, but the limit didn't come, the affected area spread further and further away, yet there was no resistance as if he was casting a casual fireball, not the pinnacle of magic. Soon he targeted the entirety of burning steppes and the Blackrock mountain itself on top of it and it still only took a noticeable portion of the power readily available to him. Not too much, but a decent amount that was nothing to sneeze at.

'If I went all out I could terraform at least the entirety of the Eastern Kingdoms, if not the entire world. Just how much power did Artemel give us?' This question came with a disturbing realization. The mysterious entity parading as a teenage girl likely was capable of cosmic-level feats and her making him and Buku was a small task for her, which meant she could have littered this universe with beings like him for her amusement. His current feat could potentially alert other powerful beings to him, but this risk needed to be taken.

Now came the more precise part. Ainz used all his awareness to ensure his subjects and their positions wouldn't be struck by the spell along with the vegetation grown around existing structures.

Finally, he unleashed the spell. The wave of green energy that exploded from him was a spectacle of creation, a blinding aurora of rebirth that swept across the land. Grass erupted from the earth, vibrant and lush, spreading with impossible speed. Trees, ancient and towering, grew as if fast-forwarding through centuries of life in mere moments. Valleys and craters filled with water, the rain joining forces with the soil to form glistening lakes and snaking rivers as far as the eye could see.

What was once a barren, ashen wasteland now bloomed with unprecedented vitality. The Burning Steppes had been reborn, its dormant landscape transformed into a verdant paradise.

For a long moment, there was only silence. Ainz turned to observe his subordinates, their expressions ranging from disbelief to awe. Krixixx, ever the dramatic goblin, clutched his head with both hands as though struggling to comprehend what he had just witnessed. Rend appeared as though his legs might give out, the defiance in his eyes now replaced with unshakable loyalty.

It was Nefarian, the dragon prince, who finally broke the silence. His voice was low but filled with conviction. "I told you, master was a God of Gods."

Ainz let the words hang in the air, his crimson eyes flickering. He finally had proper control of his side of politics.

Edited by NabeisWaifu

Proofreading by IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, fvvck

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Chapter 32: Volume 2 - Chapter 03

Chapter 3

Buku's office was a work of art, and it was thanks to Onyxia's advice, with every piece of furniture and decor befitting her royal stature. The intricate carvings on the walls, the luxurious rugs underfoot, and the faint scent of exotic incense all came together to create an atmosphere that was at once regal and imposing. Buku knew her second in command was buttering her up every way she could to avoid harsher punishment in case of failure or misbehaving, as the dragoness was prone to outbursts if something didn't go her way and she knew it. The centerpiece, however, was the office desk - an imposing masterpiece of craftsmanship carved from rare wood from the Stormwind Kingdom and inlaid with delicate patterns of gold and sapphire by their finest crafters. Its matching chair, equally grand, was upholstered in supple leather, with a high back decorated with jewels.

Both items were worth a fortune, taken right from Stormwind Castle thanks to Onyxia. The dragoness had also spent some of her immense wealth to gift Buku mountains of clothing and jewelry only the richest nobility could afford. Shelves brimmed with priceless tomes bound in dragonhide, and tapestries woven from enchanted threads adorned the walls everywhere one looked.

Buku, however, wasn't easily blinded. She was well aware of what the dragoness was doing. Buku let her continue, though, if only because the gifts were nice and the dragoness's schemes were entertaining. But she didn't mistake bribes for loyalty. If Onyxia ever stepped out of line, she would be punished all the same no matter how many gifts she gave or how much she kissed her ass. After all, it wasn't the chair that ruled; it was the one sitting in it.

Today, however, the chair was being put to good use as Buku lounged in it, one leg crossed lazily over the other, effortlessly exuding authority. She wore a gown of deep obsidian, accented with subtle gold embroidery, a perfect match for the luminous crown of light resting gently atop her head. Her piercing gaze swept across the room, taking in the gathered figures. The guest area of her office had been specially arranged for the meeting. Sofas and chairs were set around a low, polished table that reflected the soft glow of heavily enchanted lanterns.

On a plush sofa to Buku's right sat Vanessa. The young woman was the very picture of eagerness, smiling like a midday sun due to Onyxia being absent. The dragoness was back in Stormwind, working her machinations as Katrina Prestor once more. There, she was laying the groundwork for diplomatic relations between Stormwind and Nazarick, with the ultimate goal of turning the human kingdom into a puppet state of the latter through any approved means necessary. Vanessa's rivalry with Onyxia was no secret. Though Vanessa was a capable and ambitious apprentice, her jealousy toward the dragoness often bubbled beneath her cheery surface.

Still, Vanessa had potential, lots of it, she clearly was a genius, even though only fifteen years old. Buku had decided to nurture her as one of the Empire's greatest assets, but she wasn't about to let the girl's ambitions run unchecked; some boundaries needed to be set. Vanessa was one of the Buku's personal attendants and students alongside ten young dragon girls selected by Onyxia, all of whom were exceptionally talented in their own right. The arrangement had been deliberate on Buku's part; a gentle reminder to Vanessa that while she was important, she was far from irreplaceable, and she got more apprentices to work with at the same time.

Beside Vanessa sat Edwin VanCleef, the infamous Defias Kingpin and now the overworked head architect of Nazarick. The man was an absolute wreck from head to toe. His hair, usually meticulously groomed, was incredibly disheveled, and deep, dark circles hung under his eyes. A chaotic mound of papers sprawled across his lap, their edges crinkled from constant hours of careless handling.

Every now and then, he would sigh heavily and sift through the mess, muttering curses under his breath. He still held the role of Defias Kingpin on top of fully embracing the duties of the head architect of Nazarick and rebuilding the Stonemason Guild, now on a full government payroll. This obviously led to the man slowly burning out from overwork. Buku made a mental note to discuss transitioning leadership of the brotherhood with Ainz. Edwin's brilliance was undeniable, but he was teetering on the edge of collapse, and one more load would send him crashing. She knew that mindset all too well.

Across from Buku sat Lashoxia, a dragoness in human form. She appeared no older than fifteen, though in truth, she was just nine years old. Like all dragons, Lashoxia matured rapidly, and by their cultural norms, she was already considered an adult, eligible for mating by whoever they saw fit. Yet, it was rare for dragons to bear offspring at such a young age; the children of younger dragons were often weaker, and their potential for strong offspring was limited compared to those born of more mature dragons.

Even Nefarian, notorious for his moral ambiguity, dismissed the notion of breeding with such youthful females. He much preferred to wait a few decades for them to grow in power before ordering them to lay as many eggs as possible. In the ageless hierarchy of dragonkind, there was no definitive peak - only the endless growth of size and power with ancient dragons like Nefarian and Onyxia towering over their younger kin.

Lashoxia sat with poise, her demeanor calculated and refined. Her long, ebony hair was gathered into a sleek tail and she wore a simple black robe that emphasized her unadorned elegance. Her expression was a mask of neutrality, but a subtle spark of eagerness lingered in her sharp amber eyes. The young dragoness had been chosen as the first candidate for the heretic hunters initiative - a groundbreaking effort to counter the ever-looming threat of Old Gods worship.

Lashoxia's selection was no accident; her brilliance and precision in spellcraft made her stand out amidst the rest. While she lacked the raw power to conjure devastating spells due to her young age, her cunning and finesse allowed her to outwit even older, more formidable dragons with far more power than she did. She wouldn't be the only one of course but Buku first wanted to solidify and establish a template on how to pick and train candidates and then expand the new organization.

Besides her sat a troll, his tall frame tense with nervous energy. At twenty-two, he was already recognized as one of the finest scouts of his kind, known for his unparalleled stealth and mastery of the spear. Yet here, in the presence of such esteemed company, he fidgeted like a child. His wild mane of blue hair fell about his face as he ran a hand through it repeatedly, his bright yellow eyes darting about the room. Pale blue skin, decorated with intricate white paint, glistened faintly under the light, his lean but defined muscles giving him the appearance of a predator in waiting. Clad only in a loincloth, his unease was palpable, though he dared not speak out of turn.

The room itself bore the air of a calculated purpose. Buku had chosen the guest area of her office for this meeting. The space was both intimate and imposing, dominated by the soft amber glow of enchanted lamps and the thin scent of parchment and ink. Seated in a plush armchair, Buku exuded effortless confidence, her body draped casually as she leaned back with arms and legs crossed. Her golden eyes roved over the two before her, dissecting them with clinical precision.

Buku's strategy was deliberate. She had chosen young recruits for her new organization with a clear goal in mind; to cultivate lifelong commitment and display that not only the most powerful elders could prove themselves useful. Youth brought with it malleability, and malleability meant ease of indoctrination. These individuals had yet to solidly cement their own agendas or become entangled in the distractions of family and social obligations. They could be shaped into the perfect instruments for her cause, loyal and unyielding in their training and belief.

Vanessa stood nearby, her movements precise as she handed Buku a thick, carefully bound document. The papers were crisp, their edges sharp, "We tested the void detection methods developed by Lord Nefarian," she began, her voice measured but urgent. "The results have been promising. While not every cultist dabbles in magic, there are other telltale signs worth paying attention to. Ambition, for instance. The Old Gods target the overly ambitious, as well as those who desperately curry favor with persons of influence. Both types warrant careful scrutiny."

Buku's golden eyes flicked to Vanessa as she flipped through the pages, scanning the contents with ease. "That would be obvious," she stated, her tone dry but thoughtful. "We've already tested everyone within our inner circle. Ainz and I could also order magically gifted to conduct these evaluations. Pairing agents into small groups… two to five, perhaps, would ensure a broader spread of critical skills."

"Casters alone won't suffice, ma'am," came Edwin's insistent voice. The tall, battle-scarred man leaned forward, his expression earnest. "In my humble opinion, proper strike teams are a must. Cultists rarely operate in isolation, losing agents to sheer enemy numbers would be a waste of resources."

Buku inclined her head, acknowledging his point. "Indeed. For now, I think we'll pair Lashoxia and Vel'gal." Her gaze shifted to the young dragoness and the troll, who sat with markedly different postures; Lashoxia poised and confident, Vel'gal tense but attentive. "The two of you can begin scouting for additional team members. By the end of the day, I want a decision on who will serve as the immediate team leader."

"Wouldn't that be me, ma'am?" Lashoxia asked innocently, blinking her eyes.

Buku arched her brow, her sharp gaze locking onto the young dragoness. "Just because you are a dragon, it doesn't mean you are a good leader," she retorted bluntly, her voice carrying the weight of unspoken lessons.

"Of course not, ma'am," Lashoxia replied smoothly, undeterred. "But if I may, my experience in group combat and tactical planning surpasses that of my companion. Vel'gal, skilled as he is, seems more accustomed to working alone given the nature of hunters. I have trained with my peers in group combat and excelled in tactical decisions." The dragon girl pushed on with confidence.

Vel'gal scratched the back of his neck, his wild mane shifting as he avoided eye contact. "Girl speaks da truth, ma'am," he admitted, his thick accent softened by an effort to sound formal. "I am not much for leadin', never have. I'm better at followin' orders and takin' out targets."

"Then it's settled," Buku declared decisively, her tone leaving no room for debate. "Lashoxia is in charge. Ainz and I will train you two personally in the spells necessary for effective interrogation. Meanwhile, search for suitable candidates to expand. This task demands individuals who can be trusted absolutely."

"Yes, ma'am," Lashoxia and Vel'gal answered in unison, their voices carrying different shades of resolve. Buku allowed herself a small, satisfied smile. The first pieces of her plan were falling into place.

The idea of controlling minds through light magic and the powerful [Dominate] spell filled Buku with quiet determination. Such tools would be indispensable when dealing with fanatics who would rather endure gruesome, agonizing deaths than betray their insane devotion to the Old Gods. Even with the limited knowledge she had of these ancient horrors, one fact stood clear: they couldn't, under any circumstances, be underestimated, and even her husband was preparing defenses against them as they spoke.

The black dragons spoke of ancient legends, passed down through whispers from the Titan Keepers. These myths told of the ancient wars between the Titans and old gods - a battle that left near-permanent scars upon the world, many of which could still be observed to this day if you knew what you were looking for. Though the Titans emerged victorious, they hadn't eradicated their foes. Instead, the Old Gods were imprisoned, for their destruction came at a steep cost. The death of even one had nearly torn the very fabric of reality apart, leaving the Titans with no choice but to seal the others away, the next best solution.

These revelations made Buku wonder if she and Ainz would also be seen as enemies by the Titans and their servants as foreign entities. Her power by Onyxia's admission far surpassed the Titan Keepers and perhaps rivaled the Titans themselves. A dubious claim but she had noticed a steady power increase which in hindsight was obvious. Artemel had warned her once, that her full potential had been deliberately locked away at first.

It was an effort, she suspected, to prevent her or Ainz from accidentally unleashing devastation upon the world in the early days of their new existence, whether on accident or on purpose. A safety measure, perhaps, but also a reminder of the power that simmered beneath the surface, waiting to be fully unleashed upon her enemies. That thought gave her pause. If she truly possessed the potential to rival the Titans, then what was her role in this unfolding cosmic narrative? Protector? Conqueror? Or something far more complicated?

<X>

Jaina Proudmoore rubbed her temples, her fingers tracing small circles as she stared at the towering stacks of reports and requests cluttering her desk. As the leader of Theramore, her workload seemed to grow exponentially by the week. The city, a neutral hub nestled in the heart of the Dustwallow Marsh, faced a ceaseless barrage of problems from the inside out. From procuring necessary food in the inhospitable swamps, rooting out a constant influx of sabotiers and spies, and maintaining vital diplomatic stability were burdens enough. Add to that her ongoing studies in magic under her mentor, Aegwynn - the former guardian of Tirisfal and one of the most skilled sorceresses of all time - and her days were consumed in their entirety, cutting into her sleep and ending what little entertainment and free time she had just to keep up.

Aegwynn had entered Jaina's life soon after the founding of Theramore. The former Guardian had chosen the surrounding marshlands as the setting for her twilight years, seeking solitude in a world that had long since moved beyond her era. What had begun as an unlikely friendship soon grew into a mentorship that shaped Jaina profoundly.

Aegwynn's past loomed large, as shadowed as it was illustrious. She was the mother of Medivh, the last Guardian, whose legacy bore both triumph and tragedy. It was Medivh who had opened the dark portal to Draeneor, unleashing the orcish horde upon Azeroth - an act that set the stage for untold chaos. And all of it, Aegwynn admitted, stemmed from her own hubris. Millennia ago, she had faced the avatar of Sargeras, the Mad Titan and Lord of the Burning Legion. Believing she had defeated him, Aegwynn instead became an unwitting vessel for his corruption, which she unknowingly passed to her son. In the end, Medivh had atoned for his crimes, helping to halt the legion's second invasion, but the weight of his actions - and his mother's - remained an eternal stain on their legacy, never to be forgiven.

Despite her history, Aegwynn proved to be an excellent mentor, if a bit grumpy and impatient at times. Under her tutelage, Jaina's magical skill had grown to new heights, likely turning her into one of the most powerful casters in the world.

But today, Jaina's thoughts were elsewhere. Something had stirred within Azeroth's magical currents; a ripple that resonated with unmistakable power. She had contacted the Kirin Tor answers, but even the mages of Dalaran could only narrow its source to the vicinity of Blackrock mountain, a near-untouchable domain. Their assessment ruled out immediate catastrophe, suggesting that the disturbance might be linked to the restless stirrings of Ragnaros the Firelord, who supposedly slept beneath the mountain. For now, all she could do was wait. Her duties in Theramore prevented her from abandoning her post to investigate personally, weighing her to her seat.

Her reverie was interrupted by the creak of her office door. Without looking up, she addressed the figure entering.

"More reports?" she asked, voice tinged with resignation.

"Lady Proudmoore," her assistant began, his voice taut with unease, "there is something requiring your immediate attention,"

Jaina glanced up, noting the tension in the young man's expression. He had worked with her for a few years, he wasn't easily surprised thanks to the adaptation of the youth. "What is it?"

"A fugitive arrived at our gates," he replied carefully. "His hands and ankles were bound in chains, and he collapsed shortly after declaring himself to be King Varian Wrynn of Stormwind. He has been taken to the infirmary and is being treated at the moment."

Her heart skipped a beat. "Varian?" she murmured, barely audible, the name catching in her throat. 'Could it truly be him?' 'Could he still be alive!?'

She wasted no time. Standing abruptly, Jaina didn't bother with the long walk to the infirmary. A flash of arcane energy enveloped her as she teleported directly into its main hall. The priests and nurses, long accustomed to her sudden appearances, barely glanced in her direction, continuing their work.

"Where is the fugitive?" she questioned a nearby priest.

"End of the hall, Lady Jaina," he replied, motioning with his hand.

Jaina moved quickly, her pulse pounding in her ears. As she entered the chamber, her eyes fell upon the figure lying on the bed. A nurse gently cleaned his wounds while a priest bathed him in the golden glow of holy light, healing wounds bit by bit. His skin was pallid, his body gaunt from hardship, and yet there was no mistaking his face.

"Varian," she whispered, her voice catching. It was him - the lost King of Stormwind.

"How is he?" she demanded, turning to the priest.

"He will live, but barely," the priest replied, his tone grim. "Whatever trials he endured, they've left him near death. It is a miracle he survived long enough to reach us, his body should've failed long before he reached us."

Jaina clenched her hands at her sides. Her mind raced, recalling the rumors and whispers that had surrounded Varian's disappearance. Many believed it was no accident but instead the work of corrupt nobles within Stormwind itself. The implications were staggering. She couldn't simply announce his presence here; it would invite chaos and possibly place him in further danger, which would in turn bring more work to her.

She needed someone she could trust - someone loyal beyond question to the crown. There was only one man who fit that description: Bolvar Fordragon.

For now, all she could do was wait, plan, and protect Varian until the time was right to reveal the truth.

Editing by NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, fvvck, and aidan_lo.

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Chapter 33: Volume 2 - Chapter 04

Chapter 4

Disguising her true reason for visiting Stormwind was effortless for one such as her. Jaina's presence as Anduin's 'aunt' offered a perfect cover, and she embraced the role wholeheartedly, despite their tenuous blood relation. Their meetings were infrequent, but the boy's genuine affection always brought her great joy.

As she approached the throne room, a smile brightened her face and she carried a small box in her hands. Anduin, perched on the throne, could barely contain his excitement at her arrival, shaking in place.

Bolvar Fordragon, ever watchful and composed, regarded her approach with warm approval. His demeanor stood in stark contrast to that of Katrana Prestor sitting nearby. The noblewoman wore a strained smile that didn't reach her sharp, calculating eyes, half-glaring. Her perceptible displeasure only reinforced Jaina's growing suspicions; Katrana, along with certain other nobles, might have played a hand in Varian's disappearance, but nothing concrete. She probably wanted minimal foreign influence.

"Aunt Jaina!" Anduin cried out, leaping from the throne before she could take another step forward. He ran toward her with abandon, his youthful exuberance, momentarily shattering the formal decorum of the hall.

"Your majesty, such behavior is inappropriate!" Katrana called after the boy, her clipped tone betraying her irritation as she too stood up.

Her scolding fell on delightfully deaf ears. Anduin flung his arms around Jaina, and she knelt to embrace him, patting him on the back.

"Anduin!" she greeted warmly, pulling him close as he squeezed her tightly.

"I'll watch over the King, Prestor." Bolvar interjected, his firm glare cutting through the tension.

"You are letting him forget his etiquette again!" Katrana hissed, her hands clenched into fists as her pale knuckles strained against her skin. "You are supposed to aid him!"

Bolvar didn't flinch, "His Majesty is greeting his aunt for Light's sake! There is time and place for etiquette, Prestor, now is private time." He waved her off with deliberate dismissal. Turning to Jaina, he inclined his head. "Lady Jaina, it's a pleasure to see you again."

"Likewise, Lord Regent," Jaina replied with a respectful nod.

Katrana, clearly outmaneuvered, gave an audible huff. "Inform me if there is anything of consequence," she snapped before turning on her heel and storming out of the hall, heels ringing across the room.

"Please excuse Lady Prestor," Anduin stated earnestly, his young face clouded with concern. "She is under a lot of stress. There's been so much bad stuff happening and she really does help, even if she's grumpy sometimes."

Jaina placed a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder. "The world is becoming more turbulent by the day," she replied, "In fact, that's one of the reasons I came."

Bolvar ushered them to Anduin's private quarters, ensuring they wouldn't be disturbed. As they walked, Anduin tugged at Jaina's arm, venting his frustrations.

"Being king is so boring!" he lamented. "I barely have time to play anymore, and none of my old friends come anymore."

Jaina suppressed a smile, doing her best to sound stern. "I know you don't like it, but you're the king. It's your duty to look after your people, Anduin."

Her words weighed heavily on her heart. She longed to tell him the truth, to reveal that his father was alive and recovering, so he only needed to hold on for just a bit longer. But the political landscape was treacherous, and the timing wasn't right, nor was she sure of the intelligence's safety. For now, it was better that Anduin remained unaware until she could safely return with Varian in the future.

"I know, Aunt Jaina…" Anduin replied with a resigned sigh. He slumped slightly, the weight of the crown far too heavy for a mere boy of ten.

Jaina's heart ached for him. No child should have to bear such burdens, yet Anduin had no choice but to do so. Born into the royal line, his life was one of sacrifice, just as hers had been. She had once tried to escape her own destiny as the daughter of the Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras, seeking refuge in the Kirin Tor and the pursuit of magic. But fate had drawn her back, placing her at the head of Theramore with all of its powers and responsibilities and she almost married into Menethil line before prince Arthas betrayed everyone and everything and killed his father. They had called off the weeding by that time to advance their studies first at that time.

The boy's struggle mirrored her own, she saw her past self in him. Fate might be unyielding, but she had learned to accept her role. Anduin would have to do the same, though she vowed to support him however she could along the way.

She smiled softly, reaching for the small box in her hands. "Here," she continued, handing it to him. "something to let you visit me."

Anduin's eyes lit up with curiosity as he eagerly opened the box. Inside was a smooth, white stone etched with a glowing blue rune, hanging from a delicate silver chain. He held it up, marveling at its craftsmanship as it caught the light, reflecting unique patterns across the room.

"What is it?" he asked, wide-eyed in awe.

"It's called a hearthstone. This artifact returns its user to a predestined location. In the case of this stone, my tower in Theramore is the set location. This artifact can serve as both a means to visit me and to escape danger in case things go wrong." Jaina explained. Heartstones were very rare, but given the circumstances, if there was one person who needed it, it was Anduin.

"Thank you." Anduin beamed, his earlier gloom momentarily forgotten in his delight.

For a while, Jaina let Anduin talk, his words flowing with the unguarded honesty of a boy burdened far beyond his years and in desperate need of an equal. He spoke of how much he missed his father, how tiresome it was to be king, and how he envied the children he saw playing in the streets during his inspection tours of the city. She listened attentively, offering soft reassurances and sympathetic nods. It was tempting to vent about her own struggles, but she held back. She was the adult, and Anduin carried enough weight on his small shoulders without her adding to it. He just needed a shoulder to vent on.

Before long, duty called. A courtier arrived to summon the young king to address yet another matter, and Anduin left reluctantly with his guards, casting a wistful glance back at Jaina as he went. Once the door closed, Jaina turned to Bolvar, who remained behind.

"You mentioned you had a reason for coming beyond bringing Anduin a bit of happiness," Bolvar stated, his brows furrowing as he leaned against the wall.

Jaina nodded. "Yes, multiple reasons, actually. First, I wanted to warn you - something big happened near Blackrock Mountain. The Kirin Tor detected a disturbance and sent a team to investigate, but I don't have all the details yet. I thought you should know, given Stormwind's proximity to the area."

Bolvar let out a low grunt, the sound heavy with weariness. "As if we didn't have enough problems already. Complaints and pleas from Redridge come in daily. The last thing I need is a rampaging horde of orcs escaping whatever is happening. Do you have any theories?"

Jaina hesitated, choosing her words carefully. Bolvar was a man of reason, but he was also a warrior. If she spoke rashly, he might act prematurely on her suspicions.

"There is a chance that the Firelord has awakened." She finally uttered.

Bolvar stopped mid-step, his armored boots clinking as he turned to face her. "And what would it mean for us?" he inquired. His voice was calm, but his eyes searched hers for any sign of exaggeration. "I've heard the stories, the Dark Iron dwarves summoned something centuries ago. Beyond that, I know little."

"I am not entirely sure," Jaina admitted. "But if Ragnaros has truly awakened, it could pose a threat far greater than Stormwind alone can handle. If it comes to that, know that the Kirin Tor and I will stand with you. However…" She drew a deep breath. "That is not the main reason I came."

Bolvar's expression darkened. "So, this was just your way of easing me into something worse!?"

Jaina met his gaze evenly. "Varian is alive."

The words hit Bolvar like a hammer. His composure cracked, and his voice trembled. "Alive? Thank the Light… He's alive!"

Jaina gave him a moment to process before continuing. "He arrived at Theramore - collapsed at the gates, barely conscious. He's alive, but in terrible shape. It may take him time to recover. I wasn't sure whether I should tell Anduin, and I certainly couldn't in the throne room."

Bolvar shook his head, his voice steadier now. "No, it's better the boy doesn't know. Not yet. And no one else, either."

Jaina nodded. "I've heard rumors suggesting someone from his own court may have orchestrated his disappearance."

Bolvar's expression hardened. "Shaw and I suspect Katrana is behind it, but we have found no proof. I sent a team to follow a lead in the Burning Steppes, but they were captured by Dark Irons, never to return. Every rescue attempt has failed - the teams vanish without a trace. If something big is going on near Blackrock, it could all be connected. And Katrana…" He paused, his jaw tightening. "She has been disappearing from the castle more frequently. We suspect she is a sorceress, but again, no proof."

"If she is behind the kidnapping and your missing teams, then it might be best to organize an investigation without her knowledge," Jaina suggested.

Bolvar sighed, running a hand over his face. "Easier said than done. Katrana has her claws in everything - her influence is deep, and without evidence, I can't act against her openly."

"Then let me help," Jaina offered. "I can hire an independent group of adventurers to investigate. With so many rising stars lately, it won't raise suspicion."

Bolvar considered her suggestion, nodding slowly. "That could work. But we need to tread carefully. If Katrana truly is behind all this, she's more dangerous than we realize."

Jaina's thoughts raced. Something about this conspiracy felt larger than either of them could yet comprehend. Still, she knew this wasn't the time to let paranoia take over. For now, her priority was clear: uncover the truth and prepare for Varian's eventual return.

"We'll get to the bottom of this, Bolvar," she declared firmly. "Before Varian comes home, we'll have answers."

Bolvar nodded, his determination matching hers.

<X>

There were no words in mortal tongues to describe the fury Ragnaros felt. For three centuries, he had labored tirelessly, gathering strength and tearing at the veil between the Firelands and physical reality. His efforts had let the fiery energies of his realm seep into the scorched earth beneath the mountain he slumbered, claiming the domain as his own.

When the foolish Dark Iron dwarf had attempted to summon him, the ritual had gone disastrously awry. Instead of restoring him to full strength, he had been dragged back into the physical plane greatly weakened, his once-boundless power diminished to a mere pittance of what it had been before. Yet, even that indignity paled in comparison to what he faced now: an affront of unparalleled scale.

Vast swaths of fire energies he had poured into the Burning Steppes had been stolen, warped, and reshaped against his will in an instant. Where his flames had once reigned over all, lush forests now flourished in abundance, and clear waters flowed where there should have been only molten rock. Half of what he had claimed as his domain had been wrested from him in a single, cataclysmic act.

Rising from the lava lake at the heart of the Molten Core, Ragnaros unfurled his colossal form, a hundred meters of searing heat and molten fury. His blazing essence radiated outwards, causing the very walls of his cavern to soften and melt in his presence. The servants gathered in his domain quailed before him, their forms flickering as his overwhelming presence washed over them, reminding them of who they served.

With his hammer, Sulfuras, a weapon as large as a fortress, clutched in one titanic hand, he turned his wrathful gaze downward. His second-in-command, Majordomo Executus, approached with careful deference. The flamewaker bowed low, his serpentine body coiled in submission.

"Lord, you have awakened. We stand ready to follow," Executus declared with utmost submission.

Ragnaros loomed over him, his massive hammer raised a silent threat that oozed his rage. For a moment, he considered smashing Majordomo into a fine paste for failing to prevent the desecration of his would-be domain. But reason prevailed - Executus, though fallible, was invaluable for maintaining order among the flamewakers. Without him, internal dissent could erupt at the worst possible time, and his growth had yet to finish.

"Explain to me what has happened," Ragnaros thundered, his voice a roaring inferno that shook the mountain to its core.

Executus raised his head cautiously. "My lord, powerful entities have claimed both the Burning Steppes and Blackrock Spire. One of them cast a spell with power as great as yours, transforming the Burning steppes into a forest. We have been building your forces for war, but without your might, I'm afraid we would lose this confrontation, Lord."

Ragnaros' rage intensified, the lava beneath him churning violently, "Take my armies! Whip the dwarves into action and send Gedeon out to raze that accursed forest. Burn it to the ground! Reclaim what's mine!"

"It shall be done, my Lord!" Executus exclaimed, bowing low once more.

"Do not fail me, Executus!" Ragnaros warned, his molten eyes narrowing. With that, he sank back into the lake of lava, his massive form dissolving into the molten rock as he returned to growing his power.

Deep in the molten core of his being, his thoughts burned with an unfathomable vengeance. These interlopers, Whoever they were, would pay for their audacity to oppose him. He would burn their mortal forms to ash and their souls would be entrapped in cages of eternal fire, their torment unending as their screams would remind all those in the future of those who dared to stand against him.

His return was inevitable. When the time came, his flaming armies would sweep across the world like wildfire across the plains, destroying everything in its wake. N'Zoth's whispers had cautioned him to tread carefully, to not underestimate his enemies. But cowardice was for lesser beings, for the likes of the Windlord Al'Akir. Ragnaros was the Firelord, the embodiment of destruction, rage, and unrelenting power, and he would have his glorious return.

In time, he would unleash his full might, breaking free his fellow elemental lords and casting down their shared prison for the new order. The old Gods would rise once more, and with them, the Black Empire. Then he could revel in the endless war and chaos of the ancient past, before the Titans' accursed intervention that had sealed them for thousands of years.

But first, there was the matter of the two entities who had dared to disrupt his glorious ascension. They would learn the hard way that those who play with fire are destined to burn. And Ragnaros was fire itself.

Editing by NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, fvvck, and aidan_lo.

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Chapter 34: Volume 2 - Chapter 05

Chapter 5

Although Ainz had transformed the hellscape of the Burning Steppes into a verdant land with the Super Tier Magic [Creation, it was far from the perfect solution he had hoped for. The spell had eradicated the searing fire and ash, but challenges remained for him to tackle. The absence of wildlife left the ecosystem incomplete, leaving it imbalanced and unsustainable in the long run. Neither Ainz, Buku, nor his subordinates possessed the magical ability to summon animals bugs, and other creatures necessary for a healthy balance, and efforts to invite animal spirits, the Loa, into the region had been entirely unsuccessful. The troll witch doctors had tried extensively communicating with the Loa, but the spirits were hesitant, viewing Ainz and Buku as foreign entities beyond their understanding and thus to be avoided at all costs.

For the time being, the foraging of fruits and roots from the newly grown forest temporarily solved the food shortages. The abundance of edible vegetation kept the orcs and ogres occupied, giving them a purpose and reducing tensions within the populace while feeding hungry mouths and stomachs, a two-for-one morale booster.

Ainz walked along a newly made trail, his dragon guards trailing behind at a respectful distance. His primary goal was to assess whether the Firelord's influence was seeping back into the land, but so far, his spell seemed to have effectively purged the fiery energies in their entirety, leaving no trace behind. Despite the heavy weight of his responsibilities, the quiet forest offered him a rare moment of solitude to self-ponder. With Buku often at his side, such peaceful moments were becoming increasingly rare. Though he cherished his wife's company, there was something uniquely calming about being alone in the gentle embrace of the forest, especially one as safe as this one.

He reached out to a nearby tree, plucking a broad, succulent leaf. He studied it thoughtfully, marveling at how life thrived as long as he suppressed the negative energies that radiated from his undead form. Yet, he couldn't ignore the precarious balance of the transformation. The greenery thrived only because of his magic, and the lands to the north and lower mountain slopes remained under the dominion of fire, hostile to any attempts of further spreading. Ainz knew the spell's effects couldn't last indefinitely; eventually, the fire's destructive nature could reclaim its hold if he wasn't careful.

The Loa's refusal to inhabit the land pushed Ainz to seek alternative solutions. In Yggdrasil, druid and beastmaster classes could harmonize such ecosystems, but his knowledge of their spells and abilities was limited compared to his knowledge of the necromantic arcane. Nazarick's guidebooks contained detailed descriptions of Aura and Mare's abilities, but those lists lacked the depth he needed to replicate their magic, nor did he have access to NPCs of the past. Recasting [Creation] to brute force the initial round of creation was an option, but relying solely on his power was a dangerous precedent for his empire. Independence and sustainability were priorities he couldn't afford to neglect when creating the foundation of his empire.

As he walked in peace, Ainz considered another matter; what to name the transformed region. 'Burning Steppes' no longer reflected its nature, but finding a fitting name was proving difficult. Mirkwood, inspired by Yggdrasil's dark forests, tempted him, but it lacked relevance to the bright, lush forest surrounding him. As he continued down the trail, feeling the soft grass and moss beneath his skeletal feet, his thoughts wandered to forests of old - both in the game and from distant memories. Whatever name he chose, it would need to capture the promise of renewal and the lingering shadow of its fiery past.

'What was that area called where we battled the Champions of Odin guild? It's… I knew it… why can't I… Jarnvidr! Right, the area was called Jarnvidr. I can go with that. I'll ask Buku if she likes it first though.' The name 'Jarnvidr' had a certain weight and mystique that seemed fitting for the reborn land, especially since it came from another world. Still, before making any decisions, he resolved to consult Buku. Her perspective often illuminated nuances he might have overlooked.

His reflections were interrupted by a dragon's sudden arrival, its unease evident.

"Your, Imperial Majesty!" the dragon called out, swiftly shifting to its humanoid form upon landing.

Inselion was but a messenger tasked to carry information between more important dragons than him and the leaders of the lesser races. The young dragon had yet to prove himself to be entrusted with something more important. But that was a life for a young dragon who wasn't a child of Onyxia but one of the lesser dragonesses.

To deliver a message to the dark God ruling over his king was a nerve wrecking experience to say the least. Ainz Ooal Gown according to rummors had killed Lord nfarian witha single spell and then rose the mighty dragon from the dead as if it ws a trivial thing.

The supreme being's mere presence was something he struggled to understand.

Ainz's guards subtly adjusted their positions, stepping closer in a protective formation. Their instincts sharpened at the mention of hostilities. Though none spoke, their body language conveyed readiness, their claws flexing and faint trails of steam escaping from their nostrils as they tightened their grasp on their weapons.

Ainz, ever observant, raised a hand in a calming gesture, silently signaling his guards to hold their composure. The dragon guards immediately stilled, their rigid postures softening slightly. Yet, their sharp eyes remained fixed on the messenger. The messenger, acutely aware of their scrutinizing stares, bowed its head low toward Ainz, taking great care to appear deferential. In the presence of their new and supreme liege, even dragons knew better than to let their innate arrogance display itself.

"Did something happen?" Ainz inquired, noticing the dragon's unease.

"A group of Kirin Tor mages entered our lands and attacked a border patrol. One orc was killed and two others were heavily injured. They're being treated by witch doctors. We subdued the attackers and captured one alive. Should we torture the prisoner for information?"

Ainz considered the report. His standing orders discouraged needless violence or hostility unless provoked, but even so, such incidents were rare. This situation, however, demanded a measured approach for future responses and intelligence gathering.

"No. I will question the captive myself. Where is he being held?"

"In the prison area, Your Majesty. Allow me to transport you." The dragon opened a gate for him. The spell was costly but luckily adult dragons were naturally gifted in magic and had large mana pools so they could use this means of travel with relative ease, meaning a few demonstrations had massively improved the logistics of his realm. Ainz stepped through without hesitation. The dragon guards exchanged a final glance among themselves before trailing behind Ainz.

The prison area was as foreboding as ever, a stark contrast to the verdant trails Ainz had walked moments earlier. The walls, still marked by the heat of the past, were cracked and dry, housing a grim collection of prisoners from various races. Small cells were filled with orcs, trolls, dark iron dwarves, and an occasional gnoll or dragonoid, bruised and wounded from torture. In one of the cells was a young human mage, about twenty years old, in the violet robes of the Kirin Tor, laid bound and drained of mana. The protective wards ensured even the most adept spellcasters the dragons had encountered couldn't escape.

"Put him upright," Ainz commanded the orc guard.

The guard complied immediately, roughly yanking the man to his feet. The prisoner's face betrayed both fear and defiance as he glared at Ainz, his trembling subtle but noticeable.

"You entered my lands and attacked my people, why?" Ainz demanded, his tone steady. He hoped for a resolution that would avoid unnecessary escalation. Attacking Dalaran, home to the Kirin Tor, would not only sever any possibility of diplomacy but solidify Nazarick as an irredeemable enemy to the world, an unideal situation considering his incomplete domestic developments.

The young mage sneered, "Your lands?"

"Ah, I see introductions are in order," Ainz replied, tilting his head slightly. "I am Ainz Ooal Gown, Emperor of the Nazarick Empire. You and your companions trespassed on my lands and attacked my people. For now, I am asking questions politely. Who are you and why did you attack?"

The captive's eyes narrowed, his expression tinged with confusion and disbelief. "Ainz Ooal Gown? That can't be."

"So you've heard of me?" Ainz continued, his glowing red eyes locking onto the mage's own.

"Yes…" the man admitted hesitantly. "The heroes who stopped the riots in Stormwind. But you were reported to be a human, not an undead."

Ainz chuckled softly, his deep voice echoing through the prison chamber. "Ah, a reasonable misunderstanding. My wife and I traveled through human lands using visages, disguises that masked our true forms, seeking a land to claim our own. In truth, we are not human, and this land - and all who dwell within it - are now under my dominion. Now, once again, who are you, and why did you attack my people?"

The man mage hesitated, his eyes darting around the cell as though seeking an escape, only to fail. He clenched his jaw, visibly torn between defiance and self-preservation. After a moment, he muttered, "I am Thalric, an apprentice of the Kirin Tor. We were sent to investigate reports of… unnatural occurrences in the Burning Steppes. When we encountered your patrol, we assumed they were hostile. It was a mistake."

"A mistake," Ainz repeated, his voice cold. "An easily avoidable one, had your group exercised restraint or diplomacy. Which means your lands have hostile intent toward us. Tell me, Thalric, who sent you?"

The young man's silence stretched for several moments before he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I represent the City State of Dalaran."

"Interesting," Ainz replied, his mind racing. The Kirin Tor's interest in the region was both troubling and expected; measures would need to be taken and fast. "And what were you told about these so-called 'unnatural occurrences'?"

"That… entities of great power were altering the land," Thalric admitted, his defiance fading under Ainz's unrelenting gaze, beginning to shiver.

Ainz's bony hand lifted in a calculated gesture, the gesture neither hostile nor welcoming. "Entities of great power, indeed. I cast the spell that transformed the area. Now tell me, Thalric, would Dalaran be open to establishing a diplomatic relationship with Nazarick, or would it be hostile to non-human races?"

The mage's eyes widened briefly before he stammered, "I… I cannot speak for the mage council or the Archmage Rhonin, but I can deliver the message and report in detail what happened here."

Ainz leaned back slightly, nodding. "As of now, you stand as a criminal who attacked my people, However, I am willing to overlook this incident as a misunderstanding - provided Dalaran responds amicably. Should they reject my generous offer, you will be considered a wanted criminal and executed for your crimes, no matter where you choose to hide. Nazarick is willing to pursue peaceful relations, but we will not tolerate hostilities against us."

To punctuate his words, Ainz allowed a fraction of his oppressive aura to radiate outward. Thalric's eyes shut tight as his teeth chattered uncontrollably, terror reducing him to near incoherence while the entity before him stood, unmoving like the unfathomable peaks of the Burning Steppes.

"I-I will deliver this m-message, Your Majesty," The mage stuttered, barely able to speak.

"Good," Ainz intoned, his voice returning to its calm, regal cadence. "Release him and escort him to the border. But be warned; If your leaders choose to make Nazarick an enemy, your city will suffer the same fate as it did during the burning legion invasion."

The guards saluted and moved to carry out the order, their stoic expressions concealing the tension that rippled through them, roughly picking up the man.

Ainz watched the trembling mage as he was dragged away, mind racing. He had no illusions that this encounter would be the last of its kind, the other powers of the world were already making their moves. Still, he understood the value of measured diplomacy, even with nations as powerful as Dalaran. Forgiveness, granted sparingly, could buy time… and time was something Ainz Ooal Gown always intended to use to his advantage.

<X>

Jaina Proudmoore sat in quiet contemplation, a glass of Dalran noir - a favorite wine of hers ever since she enrolled in the magical academy - in her hand. The inn in Ironforge, though lively and warm, seemed distant to her in her moment of introspection. The polished stone walls and crude but sturdy furniture, crafted with the care and simplicity of experienced dwarven artisans, contrasted with the elegance she brought to the room with her decorations. Yet, she felt at ease among the patrons, her solitude respected for who she was and the power she wielded.

As a ruler of Theramore and one of the most powerful mages alive, Jaina didn't require the presence of guards, at most they were an unnecessary formality whenever she interacted with other royalty. Any would-be attacker would swiftly realize why she had faced enemies like Archimonde and survived. She took another sip of the wine, savoring its rich taste, as her mind returned to the troubling news from Rhonin, churning on the information.

The report was almost too extraordinary to believe. Ainz Ooal Gown and his equally mysterious wife had not only taken control of the Black Dragons and the Dark Horde but also transformed the Burning Steppes into a lush forest teeming with plant life. Entire fertile grasslands now flourished where ashen desolation had once reigned, and tonnes of fertile soil replaced scorched earth as far as the eye could see. The sheer scale of their power was staggering.

Rhonin had assured her that the pair weren't demons, they would've chosen different routes of conquest. But that assurance did little to settle her unease. Whatever they were, their strength was undeniable, their intentions enigmatic. And unknowns were the bane of any ruler. Jaina couldn't even theorize what kind of magic they wielded, and even the Kirin Tor's scholars were baffled with all of their information gathering. There was one thing she did know for sure; the mysterious pair wasn't to be underestimated, on a level with Archimonde himself, the demon lord who destroyed the Dalaran with a single spell and almost destroyed the world tree as well. Whoever decided to go to war with them would pay dearly to say the least.

For that reason, Rhonin had put his feet down and declared that Dalaran would work with the Nazarick Empire and do their best to keep peace; they just couldn't afford to anger the emerging nation.

And yet, conflict loomed. The Alliance, particularly Stormwind, was inching closer to open war with the Dark Horde, whose orcs were encroaching further into Redridge by the day. The tension was a powder keg waiting for a spark, one that could easily draw the Nazarick Empire into a devastating confrontation with the Alliance now that they controlled the orcs and ogres. Rhonin had promised to mediate, to find a solution before the situation spiraled out of control, but there was no guarantee anything would work.

"More cheese, missy?" The barkeep's friendly, lilting voice broke through her thoughts like sunlight into a cavern. The older dwarven woman leaned over the counter, her warm smile lighting up her weathered face.

Jaina turned her head sharply, blinking herself out of her musings, "No thank you. I could go for something sweeter."

The barkeep's smile widened, "I've got the best cherry pie ye'll ever taste sittin' in the kitchen."

"That sounds lovely," Jaina replied, offering a small smile of her own.

"One piece, comin' right up,"

When the pie arrived, its aroma wafting through the air, Jaina allowed herself a moment of indulgence, taking a slowed bite. The tart sweetness and buttery crust were practically divine, grounding her amidst her swirling thoughts as they reminded her what she was working for. By the time she'd finished, the adventurers she was waiting for had entered the inn.

The group consisted of five; A human warrior clad in a polished plate set accompanied by a human hunter with a huge boar by his side, his dirtied mail armor and fur-lined boots bearing the marks of travel. A youthful priest, also human, wore a battle robe adorned with subtle holy symbols, while a gnome wizard bustled alongside, his robes trimmed with intricate runes of power and regulation. Finally, a lithe night elven ranger brought up the rear, her violet-tinted eyes scanning the room with calm vigilance constantly.

The man in the plate set stepped forward and inclined his head respectfully, "Robyn Tropp at your service, Lady Jaina" he stated, his voice steady and formal. Gesturing to his companions, he introduced them one by one. "This is Annie," he continued, nodding to the hunter, "Leeroy," to the priest, "Nisle," indicating the gnome wizard, "and Ethil," to the night elven ranger, who remained silent but observant.

Jaina studied them carefully, her gaze piercing but polite. "It is a pleasure to meet you all," she replied, a veil of secrecy swirling around her words as she subtly cast a privacy enchantment to shield the conversation from possible prying ears. As Robyn sat down at her table, the rest of the group flanked him, forming a loose arc around him their leader, each one maintaining a watchful stance, ready for whatever came next, whatever it would be.

Robyn wasted no time, his eyes sharp with businesslike efficiency. "Let's get to the point. What is the job and how much are we getting paid?" he asked, his voice direct and to the point. In a short time, his team had established themselves as a competent and effective team. They no longer had to accept just any job tossed at them - only the ones worth their time. While Jaina's name carried weight, Robyn made it clear that even the legendary mage needed to offer fair compensation if she wanted them to take the task, which she respected.

Jaina's eyes narrowed slightly, her face serene but calculating. She responded with the same no-nonsense approach. "I need you to travel to the Blackrock depths and gather any information you can about a man called Reginald Windsor and what he discovered. It is paramount that you enter through the Searing Gorge at all costs. You are to avoid engaging with the Black Dragons or the Dark Horde. The base pay is fifty gold, but the sum can be increased up to five hundred gold depending on what you manage to uncover. Are these terms acceptable?"

Robyn's brows furrowed slightly, considering her offer, before he raised an eyebrow. "Mind explaining why we should avoid killing the orcs? I understand we shouldn't provoke the dragons and get eaten, but why spare the orc scum?" His tone remained blunt, as though he was accustomed to questioning the reasoning behind the tasks he was given.

Jaina's eyes hardened at his words, but she maintained her composure. "They have united under a very powerful entity called Ainz Ooal Gown-"

At the mention of the name, Annie, the boar-riding hunter, shook her head vigorously. "Oh! We're not messing with those guys then," she declared with a firm, almost incredulous tone. "We know what he and his wife can do."

Jaina was taken aback by the reaction. "So you have heard of them?" she inquired, surprised.

"We met them a short while ago in Northshire," Robyn explained, his voice steady. "Pleasant enough people, but I would not mess with them." Annie's pig gave an approving oink, as if echoing her sentiment.

Jaina's eyes softened slightly as she considered their words. It seemed they weren't unaware of the dangerous duo that was Ainz and his wife. A small, satisfied smile played at the corner of her lips as she nodded. "Hmm, then it might work in your favor if you are caught. Is the assignment clear?"

"Yes," Robyn answered, his tone now more serious. "But we want twenty gold upfront. Getting into Blackrock Depths won't be easy and getting out might be even harder." His request wasn't unexpected. A team of their caliber would never venture into such a perilous location without securing a portion of the payment in advance, especially when dealing with a task as hazardous as this one. Partially for pay in case the request failed, partially to purchase supplies and such beforehand, as most parties didn't carry the necessary equipment to fight against endless hordes with them at all times - only the strongest did

Without hesitation, Jaina reached into her money pouch and produced the gold, dropping the coins onto the table in front of Robyn. She didn't even flinch at the amount; gaining a favorable impression from this team was paramount. She could use them as a connection should she choose to approach Ainz Ooal Gown personally if all things went right.

Robyn took the coins with a quick nod, satisfied with the arrangement. He didn't waste time, gesturing for his team to gather their things. They knew better than to linger too long after striking a deal, they had things to do and trust to maintain. With their payment secured, the adventurers were quick to make their exit, each one offering a polite nod or a brief word of thanks as they left the inn.

Jaina watched them go, her expression unreadable. Once they were out of sight, she allowed herself a moment of quiet contemplation. Her dessert, now finished, was but a small distraction in the grander scheme of things. The wine was still rich and smooth, its familiar taste a comfort as she took another sip, but a sturdy foundation could only get you so far when fighting beings whose powers could bathe the skies with magic.

For now, all she could do was wait and hope for the best of her request. The adventurers would return with their findings… or they wouldn't, depending on the danger they encountered. Either way, Jaina had a long road ahead, and she knew that uncovering the truth behind the conspiracy plaguing Stormwind would take time. The mysterious events tied to Ainz Ooal Gown and his growing influence in the region were just the tip of the iceberg; she could sense the depths she would have to plunge into.

As the last of the adventurers vanished from view, Jaina leaned back in her chair, her mind already working on the next step as the waitress took away her plate. She wasn't one to wait passively for information to come to her. She would take control of the situation, slowly but surely.

Editing by NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by fvvck, IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, and aidan_lo.

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Chapter 35: Volume 2 - Chapter 06

Chapter 6

Insomnia had become a familiar companion to him of late. Dagran Thaurissan, Emperor of the Dark Irons, sat in his grand bed chamber with a book resting on his lap, its pages illuminated by the flickering light of a nearby brazier. His wife, Moira, lay peacefully beside him, her breaths soft and even in the quiet of the room.

He glanced at her tranquil face, marveling at the peculiar twists of fate that had brought them together. Their union was a tale many would call improbable, if not outright impossible. Moira, the only child of Magni Bronzebeard of Ironforge, came from a lineage that had been the sworn enemy of Dark Irons since the Three Hammer war. For generations, the Bronzeheads had sought to dominate the other two dwarven clans. It was this enmity that had led Dagran to order Moira's abduction, intending to use her as a pawn to force the Ironforge to its knees.

Unlike the typical brutal fates that befell Dark Iron captives forced to battle in arenas, labor as slaves, or in some cases, used as playthings for nobility-Moira's worth made her an exception. She had been held as a prisoner within Dagran's own royal suite. At first, she was merely a tool, a means to an end to hold her family accountable. Yet as the days turned to weeks, she revealed herself to be more than a mere Bronzebeard figurehead princess. Highly intelligent, shrewd, and surprisingly disdainful of her father, Moira had no illusions about the man who had dismissed her as an unworthy heir simply because she was a woman, actively contributing to his cause whenever and wherever she could.

Their conversations, initially guarded and adversarial, evolved into spirited debates on politics, history, and the future of the dwarven race. What had begun as an attempt to manipulate her resentment for his gain had grown into something far deeper. Before Dagran realized it, he had fallen in love with this fiery, brilliant woman despite their immense difference in status. And now, as she lay by his side, the child she carried, his heir symbolized both a personal triumph and an uncertain future.

His gaze lingered on Moira's tranquil expression as she breathed calmly. The thought filled him with both joy and dread. His heart swelled with pride at the prospect of their offspring, but the looming shadow of Ragnaros, the Firelord, immediately tempered his happiness as it did with all things. The Dark Irons were bound to the elemental lord, enslaved to his will. Recently, some mysterious beings took over his enemy's domain and founded a new empire, displaying their immense might by conquering the orcs and ogres.

Now, with the Burning Steppes transformed into a green paradise by the new emperor, the balance of power had shifted dramatically. Dagran knew that such defiance of Ragnaros's dominion would provoke the Firelord's wrath. When Ragnaros was angered, destruction followed, and Dagran had no illusions about what that could mean for him, his people, or his family.

The ceaseless conflict in Blackrock Mountain only compounded his worries. The bitter struggle between the dragons of the upper spire and his forces in Shadowforge City drained his resources and cost countless lives. His war golems, formidable as they were, barely managed to keep the dragons at bay. Any attempt to press an offensive was met with devastating losses as the mighty beasts mercilessly devoured any soldier who dared breach the spire's defenses.

Small skirmishes outside the mountain had been an unending reality, with minor patches of territory constantly changing hands. This state of attrition had defined the conflict between the Dark Irons and their adversaries. However, the dynamics have shifted recently. A few days ago, Nazarick abruptly ceased its offensive operations and redirected its efforts toward fortifying defenses.

At first, this seemed like an opportunity. With the pressure on the Dark Iron borders lessened, Dagran Thaurissan found himself with greater freedom to maneuver his forces. Yet the change in strategy made him uneasy. It was a calculated move; he was certain of it. Such a shift in strategy could signify preparations for something far more devastating: a buildup of enough forces for an overwhelming strike that could shatter his siege lines and flood Shadowforge city with enemy forces.

The thought gnawed at him. There was a chance that his warlocks and shamans, formidable as they were, might not be enough against an opponent as powerful as Ainz Ooal Gown. He, too, was no stranger to combat. Both his hammer and his mastery of magic had earned him respect and fear alike, but Dagran held no illusion that he could win a battle against an entity that could transform the Burning Steppes into a lush paradise.

As his mind constantly wandered on political and military matters, his wife stirred beside him, her movements soft but noticeable. Outside the heavy doors of his chambers, Dagran could hear his servants' hurried footsteps echo faintly. They sounded restless, moving back and forth in his private space.

The early morning commotion didn't surprise him, but the chaotic energy did. It was clear that something out of the ordinary was happening. Yet no one dared to disturb him. The fear of being sent to the Ring of Trials, a death sentence in brutal combat, kept them silent.

Curious and irritated, Dagran pushed his short but muscular frame out of the bed, wrapping himself in a silk robe. The moment he opened the door, his advisors and servants swarmed him in a wave of nervous urgency.

"What Is going on?" He roared, stopping the useless dwarves in their tracks.

"Your Majesty," one of his advisors stammered, bowing deeply. "Majordomo Executus is ascending from the molten core; he will arrive before noon."

The words struck Dagran like a hammer. "Then what are you fools doing, meandering around about? Make preparations!" He ordered, dismissing the lot with a sweeping gesture before retreating back into his bed chambers.

Moira was awake now, her voice groggy but alert as she mumbled, "What...?"

"Executus is coming," Dagran explained, his tone softer for her than it had been for his subordinates. "We need to be ready."

Her eyes snapped open, the words instantly dispelling her drowsiness. She bolted upright, her expression sharp and focused. "Then what are you waiting for? Move your arse and let me get ready," she snapped, her thick Bronzebeard accent cutting through her sleep-laden voice.

"Don't raise your voice against me, woman!" Dagran shot back with a chuckle, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on her lips before stepping aside to give her the space she needed.

The handmaidens were already rushing in, their arms laden with garments and grooming tools. Moira's preparations would take significantly longer than his own. As Empress, she needed to present herself as a paragon of beauty and authority, especially before a figure like Executus.

The stakes were high. Many among the Dark Iron nobles remained bitterly opposed to Moira's elevation, preferring that Dagran had chosen a bride from one of their own houses. Marrying a Bronzebeard, a sworn enemy was seen by some as an unforgivable insult. Though no one dared to voice their criticisms openly, whispers circulated in the senate and in private gatherings.

Dagran was well aware of these dissenters. His spies ensured that such conversations reached his ears, and he knew the alliances among the noble houses were strong enough to forestall any immediate purges. To act against them rashly risked plunging his empire into civil war.

For Moira, the scrutiny was unrelenting. Even the smallest imperfections in her appearance or conduct were seized upon as proof of her unsuitability. Despite the odds, she bore the pressure with strength, her keen mind, and fierce will, proving a match for the venom of her detractors.

<X>

Dagran sat rigidly on his ornate obsidian throne, his expression stony, not betraying his nervousness. At his side sat Moira beside him, her posture regal. Both knew that Ragnaros' second in command, Majordomo Executus, would not come in person unless the Firelord had been stirred and when the Firelord stirred, the world of mortals quaked beneath the weight of his ire.

The Dark Iron Emperor masked his unease behind a stoic expression, but his thoughts raced; he knew he needed to prepare for whatever unreasonable demands Executus would make. He knew all too well the precarious nature of his position. To the fire elementals, the dwarves of Shadowforge were nothing more than disposable tools, their servitude a cruel legacy of his grandfather's mistake. Should he falter in his duties or resist in any way, he would be instantly replaced with someone more compliant.

As he brooded, his eyes drifted to the assembled senators scattered throughout the throne room. They jostled for the best vantage points, some leaning over the balconies above, others elbowing their way to the forefront of the floor below. Their petty squabbling over position and influence seemed trivial compared to the fiery storm about to enter the chamber.

Dagran returned his attention to the massive double doors at the far end of the hall. Any minute now, they would open, and the audience with the flamewaker would begin. His grip on the armrests of his throne tightened imperceptibly as the first groaning creak echoed through the chamber.

The doors swung open with deliberate slowness, revealing dozens of flamewakers. They slithered into the room, their immense forms illuminating the space with fiery brilliance. At least three times taller than the average dwarf, each serpentine fire creature was a force to be reckoned with. Their crackling bodies emanated heat that made the senators sweat from the balconies above. Armed with massive forks and spears, the flamewakers moved with an eerie grace, their mere presence reinforcing their devastating power.

They formed two precise lines, creating an honor guard for their leader. Then Majordomo Executus entered. His towering form eclipsed even his subordinates, his scaly face twisted into a scowl. At his full height, he stood five or six dwarves tall, his fiery presence an oppressive force that radiated malice.

Dagran inhaled deeply, steadying himself, and rose from his throne. Moira followed suit, her expression composed but her knuckles white as she clutched the folds of her gown. Together, they descended the steps of the throne's elevation, moving with measured dignity toward the approaching elemental.

The emperor and empress kneeled before Executus as he slithered to a halt, his smoldering eyes narrowing with disdain. The room fell silent, the only sound being the faint crackling of Majordomo's fiery body. All eyes in the chamber were on the pair of dwarves as they bowed low, the weight of their submission a bitter but necessary act.

The searing voice of Majordomo Executus echoed throughout the throne room, consuming all other focus. "Our Lord has spoken. He orders for the Burning Steppes to be conquered and the forests burnt to ash," he declared, his tone laced with sharp impatience.

Dagran Thaurissan's jaw clenched at the impossible demand. The emperor took a steadying breath before replying, his voice calm but laced with the weight of reality. "Sire, we have been in a state of stalemate for two years. Now, with two powerful entities commanding our enemies, mobilising the entire army will not suffice. The dragons of the upper spire-"

Executus's massive trident struck the ground with a thunderous clang, silencing him mid-sentence. The flames dancing around Majordomo's form flared with intensity as he interrupted, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "Our Lord gave us an order. Or perhaps you need extra motivation?" He turned the point of his massive trident toward Moira, the gesture unmistakable.

Dagaran grated his teeth. A flicker of rage crossed Dagran's face, his fists tightening at his sides. The insolence of this beast to threaten his wife and the mother of his unborn child tested every ounce of restraint he possessed. Yet he was no fool. He was bound by the chains of servitude to the Firelord and could do nothing but endure this humiliation. "I will do as commanded," Dagran replied, his tone controlled but his anger bubbling beneath the surface. "But Sire, if we decimate our standing forces in an all-out attack, the conquest of Ironforge will be delayed for... "

Executus cut him off with a dismissive wave of his trident. "Your desire for revenge is of little consequence. Lord Raganors demands the eradication of the meddling creatures who dared to encroach upon his domain." His fiery eyes burnt brighter as he continued, his voice rising. "I will lead the army personally alongside my forces and see that his will is done."

Dagran bowed his head in acquiescence. "I listen and obey, sire."

"Good," Executus sneered. He loomed closer, his smoldering form towering over the dwarven emperor. "And Dagran, do not even think of disobeying the Lord's order. Your lack of faith is... disappointing."

The Majordomo's voice grew to a roar, and the air around him cracked with heat. "The Lord will rise from the ashes, and these troublesome meddlers will be obliterated. This Nazarick will cease to exist, and we'll see it done in his name!"

At this, the assembled flamewakers erupted into a deafening chant, their coarse voices echoing through the chamber as they cried, 'In his name! In his name!'.

Dagran straightened, his voice joining the cacophony of chants as he declared, "In his name, we will conquer the Burning Steppes."

Seemingly satisfied with his answers, Executus departed, taking the rest of the flamewakers with him. As the last of the flamewakers slithered out of the throne room, Dagran allowed himself a moment to process the daunting task ahead. Executus's demands loomed large, but Majordomo's departure granted him a sliver of breathing room. Unfortunately, the time for reflection was fleeting; preparations for war began immediately.

Grim.

Dagran stood, his expression grim, "We'll deploy the war golems to bear the brunt of the damage," he declared to his gathered advisors. Their high resistance to fire and blunt force damage will make them our most reliable front line.

The advisors murmured among themselves, knowing well the strengths and limitations of the stone constructs. There were only two hundred of them; far too few to counter the overwhelming number of dragons and orcs that comprised their enemies. Even with strategic placement among the troops, the golems would be insufficient to protect the army from the dragons' aerial assaults and the brutal melee strength of the orcs.

Dwarves excelled in close combat within the mountain, but in the open fields of the Burning Steppes, the Dark Horde held the advantage. Their reach alone makes hand-to-hand combat a losing proposition. Guns would even the odds, but we don't have enough weapons or ammunition to arm every soldier.

Dwarves were unrivaled when it came to combat in caverns and other cramped spaces but the Dark Horde had a huge advantage in open fields, and siege weapons were not enough to even the score. The average orc was twice as tall as a dwarf and with a much larger reach making melee combatants almost useless. There still weren't enough guns to arm every soldier in his army not to mention the lack of ammunition. In short, the army was far from ready to conduct an invasion even if they were supported by the elemental forces. A war of attrition likely wasn't feasible either as the newly formed forests likely provided enough food for the orcs to continue the all-out war for months if not years.

Dagran grunted in annoyance and declared, "Start preparing the army. I want the troops fully ready within a month. If anyone is caught sabotaging or stealing from our war effort, they'll be thrown into the lava pits- along with their families."

Moira, beside him, leaned forward, her sharp intellect immediately turning to strategy. "We need to weaken our enemies as much as possible. We should send teams into the Burning Steppes at once to sabotage their food supplies and armories. Without food and weapons, the Dark Horde will falter." She paused briefly, "Perhaps the shamans can summon fire elementals to set the forest fires ablaze. If we cannot claim the land, we'll deny it to our enemies."

Dagran nodded his respect for his wife growing yet again. "A sound idea. The less prepared they are the better the chances of victory."

Edited by: NabeisWaifu, aidan_lo.

Proofreading by fvvck, IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO,

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Chapter 36: Volume 2 - Chapter 07

Chapter 7

The ride to Blackrock Mountain was exhilarating in its danger and breathtaking in its beauty, though Robyn couldn't help but feel that every gust of wind and plume of ash was a reminder of just how precarious their mission was. The gryphons flew with incredible speed, their powerful wings carving through the skies like knives through cloth. Their feathers shimmered faintly in the sunlight, a blend of earthy browns and golds, streaked with white around the head.

Bred for speed and endurance these beasts cut swiftly over the rugged terrain, their sharp cries cutting through the howling wind, taking mere hours to cross the alliance-controlled Dun Morogh and reach the searing gorge ruled by the Dark Irons. Below them stretched the ashen expanse of Searing Gorge, its veins of molten orange glowing faintly beneath a grey-black crust of cracked earth. In its own fiery way, the land looked alive, belching up plumes of smoke and sulphur from the countless mining pits that had sprouted up over its surface. A realm of fire and scarred earth, where the earth bled freely, spilling its molten lifeblood for the insatiable greed of the Dark Iron dwarves.

The gorge was far from desolate. Cannons and crossbows bristled around the guard towers, being watched by their operators, eyes weary and scanning the skies. The massive stone fortresses stood like slumbering giants, their angular architecture unmolested by any will worked upon across a thousand years. From above, Robyn could see towns bustling with activity: There are blacksmiths hammering away at their forges, merchants bartering over exotic goods, and miners hauling endless loads of the glinting ore. At this height the din of industry reached his ears, borne by the oppressive winds like the angry pulsations of this volcanic empire.

Their small group, flying in tight formation, had drawn some attention but not enough to warrant an attack. Robyn couldn't help but smirk at the thought. A handful of gryphons wouldn't even make for a good snack for whatever horrors they kept in the dungeons below. Still, the watchtower guards took notice. At most, watchtower soldiers would watch them and report their presence up the chain of command soon enough.

"Do you think they're writing down how majestic we look?" quipped Nisle, the gnome mage, as he leaned forward on his gryphon, one hand clutching his staff, the other holding tightly to the reins as his wiry white hair whipped about in the wind. "I mean, if they're going to bother spying on us, they might as well admire the view."

Robyn snorted, adjusting the bandana tied snugly across his face to filter out the ash-laden air. "I'm sure that's exactly what they're doing, Nisle. Writing poetry about the noble idiots flying into the heart of their empire."

Of course, they wouldn't fly back as there was no way they could just walk out of Blackrock depths with freed prisoners and waltz out of the heart of the Dark Iron Empire. The plan was as bold as it was dangerous. Entering Blackrock Depths was already akin to walking into a lion's den wrapped in steak, but escaping would be even more harrowing.

Flying out with prisoners was impossible-there wasn't enough space on the gryphons themselves to take flight and there likely would be flying squadrons sent after them. Instead, they relied on Nisle's magic for their escape. The gnome had purchased an assortment of portal runes, their arcane symbols etched into smooth, glowing stones tucked safely in his many pockets. When the time came, Nisle would create a portal to Ironforge, though the strain of conjuring one from such a hostile environment would take every ounce of his considerable skill.

"Just don't drop one of those runes," Robyn warned, half-joking. "I'd rather not get stuck here and become Dark Iron stew."

"Relax, farm boy," Nisle shot back with a grin. "I'm a professional. Though if you're that worried, I hear their stews are rich in nutrients and laced with booze so not the worst palace to end in."

Robyn groaned. "Remind me why we brought you again?"

Robyn allowed himself a moment of reflection as the wind whipped past. It was still awe-inspiring, barren, and dangerous, but the view below was still the same. He was a long way from the rolling green fields of his home in Elvynn, where the most exciting thing that had happened was a sheep getting out of its pen or the bickering of neighboring families. Back then, his dreams were as small as his plot of land: marry Anny, raise a family, and work the soil until his hands were as rough as his father's. There was something inside him, something that would not be silent, a restless yearning.

His team wasn't the only one. A lot of heroes and adventurers had emerged from across the lands, basically taking it upon themselves to fix the problems. It was this sudden urge within that changed everything. One day he had put down his plow, bid Anny farewell and left the life that was mapped out for him like rows of wheat. His savings had gone to a second-hand sword and shield whose edges were dulled by time but still usable. He'd trained himself by sparring with tree trunks and taking on the odd bounty to protect travelers from bandits. Those small acts of heroism had snowballed into something larger eventually. Now, here he was: soaring over hostile territory clad in finely crafted armor with a team of skilled adventurers on a mission from a nation's ruler. It would be a story to tell if he ever got back.

As much as Robyn had grown, Anny had blossomed in her own way. She had always been the heart of the farm, good with animals, a quiet whisperer of animals who seemed to understand them in ways no one else could. She had a knack for sensing when a cow was ill before it showed in its gait, or coaxing pigs into pens with nothing but a gentle word. When Robyn announced his departure, she didn't weep or cling to him. Instead, she watched him go with a thoughtful gaze.

Then, with characteristic decisiveness, she strode into the forest one morning and returned a day later astride a wild boar. The creature was massive, with tusks that curved like scimitars and a hide as tough as the rocks it had surely rooted out in its lifetime. Anny rode it with the ease of someone who had been born to it, her hair wild and her face alight with determination. She borrowed some of his remaining savings to purchase a bow from a traveling merchant, and joined him in the adventure. They still planned a future together and once they began traveling the world, they had become lovers without the need for a holy ceremony at a church or paperwork at a lord's office.

Robyn and Anny's journey took them far, but it was at a small town festival that their destiny truly began to shift. There, they met Leeroy, a young priest who had been Robyn's childhood friend in those chaotic years after Stormwind fell. Leeroy had been studying the holy texts since he was five, raised with a devotion to the Light that bordered on fanatical but somehow managed to be endearing rather than overbearing.

At the festival, Leeroy was doing what he did best: healing the sick, blessing crops, and charming farm animals into docility. He did it all without asking for payment, though the townsfolk insisted on rewarding him. Robyn still laughed at the memory of Leeroy blushing furiously as a group of maidens fussed over his tattered robes, their mothers sneaking food into his pack when they thought he wasn't looking. Bread, cheese, and even a bottle of homemade brandy made their way into his supplies that day.

It didn't take much convincing to get Leeroy to join their little band. "The Light guides me," he'd said simply, adjusting his robes and gripping his staff with an expression of quiet resolve. And so the trio was formed, united by shared purpose and a deep, if occasionally chaotic, friendship.

Their adventures eventually brought them to the Northshire Valley, where they encountered beings who seemed less like mortals and more like forces of nature, Ainz and Buku. These two enigmatic individuals were powerful, ruling over the Black Dragons and what remained of the original orcish horde. Their impossible might was still fresh in their minds.

Robyn would never forget the day Buku cast the entire Northshire in holy light. It was an event that defied explanation, an overwhelming surge of power that left no room for doubt or fear. Every blade of grass, every leaf, every stone seemed to shine with divine radiance. At that moment, it was as if the Goddess of Light herself had descended, granting them a small portion of her infinite power. Many powerful adventurer teams were born from that event, striving for greater glory.

When Robyn and his companions ventured beyond the lands ruled by the child king Anduin, their travels brought them to the windswept hills of Loch Modan. It was there, in the smoky haze of a tavern lit by flickering lanterns, that they met their fourth companion Nisle. One with towering intellect that more than made up for a gnomish stature. Behind a pair of cracked spectacles that drew the eye up through bright blue eyes, the gnome's robes were worn thin by one who'd walked the trails of both magic and mortal.

Nisle's past was tragic, yet it gave him an indomitable resolve. He had once been a scholar having spent a century poring over ancient arcane texts alongside his colleagues and apprentices in the great libraries of Gnomeregan. That all changed when Gnomeregan fell, reduced to an irradiated wasteland by a catastrophic betrayal. Details were muddy but the Gnomish city first was invaded by trogs a brutish ape-like race from the deep underground tunnels.

A plan was devised to kill the trogs with radioactive gas but at the crucial moment, High Tinker Mekkatorque's hand man Mekgineer Thermaplugg betrayed him and unleashed the gas before the city was evacuated killing about eighty percent of the entire Gnomish race and irradiating a large portion of the survivors who now wondered the fallen city mad and directionless.

He barely got out with his life, but not without cost. The majority of his peers perished and his beloved library was lost in the ruin. That loss marked him deeply. From that day on, he took his century-long expertise in magic to help the alliance against the evils of the world, dedicating himself to fighting off the despicable and the terrible however he could. He had even been part of the force that had stopped the demonic invasion in Kalimdor. He had fought alongside the Kirin Tor mages and even Lady Jaina Proudmoore flinging fire and frost at demons in battles that scorched the earth and scarred his spirit.

Meeting Robyn and his team was serendipitous. The encounter took place on a stormy evening when dark iron saboteurs plotted to destroy the dam that held back the loch's waters, threatening to flood the wetlands below. The fight was chaotic, a cacophony of fireballs, arrows, and frantic shouting as the team worked together to foil the sabotage. Nisle had impressed them all by holding off an entire squad of dark iron dwarves with a single spell. When the dust settled, he joined the group, deciding to stick together afterward as they found good chemistry in working as a team.

The team's final member was Ethil, a night elf ranger as quiet as the twilight forests she hailed from. Ethil rarely spoke, and when she did, her words were few but sharp as arrows. Annie, herself a skilled archer, had been humbled when she first saw Ethil in action. The night elf's precision was godlike, her arrows not just striking targets but finding weak points with uncanny accuracy. It was as though she communed with the wind itself, guiding her shots with a grace that defied mortal understanding.

Ethil's age dwarfed even Nisle's considerable years. She had once served in the armies of High Priestess Tyranda's Whisperwind, protecting the forests of Kalimdor for millennia. But one day, after four thousand years of unwavering duty, something changed. She was overtaken by irresistible wanderlust. On that day she left the rangers and traveled the world in solitude. Her path crossed with Robyn and the others in the midst of a desperate battle against a cult of Twilight's Hammer zealots. The cultists were attempting to awaken a long-forgotten monstrosity, chanting prayers to the void as they prepared to unleash chaos upon the world. Ethil had appeared like a shadow, raining death upon the zealots with a volley of arrows that turned the tide of battle. When the last cultist fell, she wordlessly joined their campfire that evening, eating in silence before offering her allegiance.

Wanderlust was a perfect description of the feeling he and other adventurers felt. There was an epidemic of wanderlust spreading and the world was becoming a better, more open place for it. Cultures intermingled and fused. The alliance became a more coherent force when its people formed strong personal bonds beyond the politics of their rulers and the economics of their merchants. Although Robyn had every reason to dislike the horde, it too had been struck with the same ailment, and in his travels he had seen similar teams on the other side in neutral places like the goblin-run trade cities.

His daydreaming soon came to an end as the gryphons descended into a well-hidden valley at the side of the impossibly large Blackrock mountain. The mountain loomed above them. The air here was heavy, laced with sulfur and the faint stench of burnt flesh. Their gryphons squawked nervously before taking flight, retreating to safety. Their trusty flying mounts would find their way back on their own.

"Keep your eyes open and butts covered," Robyn warned, his tone half-serious, half-sarcastic. "We won't get any backup should things go bad."

Ethil's sharp eyes were already scanning the terrain, "Lava spider. Four hundred meters behind us. Best avoid it."

"Noted," Robyn said, adjusting his helmet, "Let's move before the beast comes to say hi. Annie, be ready to camouflage us. Nisle, mana gems and potions on demand." Robyn issued the last orders and the team moved west towards one of the mountain's many gates leading inside the mountain, their steps muffled by the ash-covered ground.

Although still a beginner hunter by all means, Annie's connection to nature gave her talents that far outstripped her years of experience. Her ability to cloak the group in a veil of magical camouflage, blending seamlessly with the environment. This magical ability was simply invaluable. It wasn't foolproof, but unless someone was actively searching for them, the spell made them indistinguishable from the shadows and rock around them.

This ability had saved them countless times before and was the reason they had gotten this far without detection. This was the second-best ability she had besides being able to summon her pet pig anywhere in the world, as she couldn't just take a four hundred-kilo boar with her on flights for obvious reasons. She had joked once about trying to strap it to a gryphon, earning groans and snickers from the team.

On high alert, they walked for about two hours, their steps light and wary, until they reached the gate. Rising fifty meters into the shadowy air, the obsidian black doors loomed like a testament to the might of dwarven craftsmanship. Their surface was etched with intricate runes. Ten colossal golems, standing silently on either side of the gate, bore the same dark metal design, their lifeless eyes staring into the void. There was no mistaking their purpose; a means to open and close the marvel of dark iron architecture.

The moment they walked inside, camouflage became a necessity. The dark iron patrols were everywhere, moving massive siege weapons and war rations. Luckily, they were too busy to actively investigate the shadowy cavern for a group of adventurers, too concerned with their own businesses.

The cavern by itself was immense, but it was dwarfed by the open space that separated the upper and lower parts of the mountains. On chains thicker than two humans stacked on top of each other hung a literal fortress in the middle of this opening that was large enough to house the city. On the lower rams stood armies of dark iron snipers clutching their guns alongside dark shams with their fire and magma elementals, ready to attack any intruder if the alarm was sounded. Between them stood the tall stone and iron golems and behind the lines were the siege weapons called tanks. These metal and fire monstrosities shot dwarf-sized metal balls with speeds capable of shredding a grown dragon to pieces.

On the upper ramps orc archers and troll spearmen were standing in fierce opposition. The despicable orc warlocks with their summoned daemons provided magical support alongside the black dragons, formidable enemies in their own right. Behind their lines waited the crude orc catapults, not as refined as dwarven siege engines but equally devastating, capable of throwing massive chunks of rock operated by the ogres and goblins. Tanks meant little if the ground was too cluttered to drive through-and the orcs knew this well

The hanging fortress was their place of engagement with replenishable demons and elementals perpetually battling on behalf of their summoners.

"If memory serves," Nisle whispered, adjusting his spectacles as they glinted faintly in the dim glow of lava rivers below, "they were a lot more… proactive in the reports about the conflict between the forces on both sides of the mountain."

Annie tilted her head, her auburn braid slipping over one shoulder, "Maybe it's because Ainz and Buku are now in charge. If I were a demon or an elemental, I'd be keeping my head down too."

"It will be hard to get past the line," Ethil said. "We need a distraction. There." she gestured towards a group of dwarven snipers perched on a ledge in the distance. Their rifles rested lazily against the stone wall, and more than one of the dwarves seemed to be stifling yawns, their posture betraying fatigue. "That group looks tired. We can distract the formation to the right of them and sneak in there."

Robyn studied the group for a moment before nodding, "Good point. Nisle, you're up."

The gnome wizard rubbed his hands together, a mischievous glint in his eye. "One arcane illusion coming right up. Prepare to be dazzled"

"Just don't overdo it. We need a distraction, not a firework show," Robyn cautioned as they moved behind a rock to avoid drawing any attention to themselves.

"Please. Subtlety is my middle name," Nisle replied, though his smirk suggested otherwise. With a flick of his tiny fingers, he conjured a swirling orb of energy that cast an illusion of a black dragon, fearsome and mighty. The somewhat translucent illusion appeared like the real thing in the faint light of the underground area.

"Subtle, huh?" Robyn murmured, arching an eyebrow.

"Quiet, or I'll make it pink," Nisle retorted.

With a resonating roar, it plunged into the lines of dwarves, its bellow so convincingly deep and guttural that it rattled the very air.

Without hesitation, Annie gulped down a mana potion and applied camouflage with the team moving fast through the unfolding chaos. The reaction had been immediate. The tired dwarves jolted upright, their rifles snapping to attention as they aimed at the phantom threat. "By the forge, what is that?!" one of them shouted, his voice tinged with panic. Another yelled, "Sound the alarm!"

"Oh, for—no! Don't sound the alarm!" the shaman screamed, rubbing his temple. "Stop shooting you idiots, it's an illusion!"

The beast faded in less than five minutes. The brief distraction was all the time the team needed to slip past the front lines and into the labyrinthine tunnels that descended into the mountain's bowels. Behind them, the echo of confused shouts and scattered orders faded, replaced by an oppressive, heavy silence that seemed to seep into their very bones.

The tunnels were unguarded but far from inviting. All around, there were walls of jagged black stone, glistening slightly with moisture that reeked of sulfur and rot. The air was thick, cloying acrid, all feel of it like a mouthful of smoldering ash. Robyn pulled his scarf higher over his face, though it did little to block out the stench. His boots crunched against loose gravel and unseen debris, every step threatening to echo too loudly in the claustrophobic space.

Soon tunnels gave way to a hellish tableau of misery, the mines. Row after row of enslaved figures toiled ceaselessly, their gaunt frames bent under the weight of chains and exhaustion. Humans, orcs, dwarves, gnolls, trolls, even ogres, their massive forms shrunk, their once mighty strength stripped away, laboured under the lash. Sores and bruises pocked their skin; their eyes were sunken like pits, hopeless—the war machine, hungry for resources, treated them as mere expendables.

Robyn's heart twisted in his chest as his gaze lingered on a young orc, barely more than a child, struggling to carry a load of iron ore twice his size. The boy stumbled, and the overseer's whip lashed out mercilessly. The orc fell to the ground, curling into himself as the overseer struck again and again, his snarls of anger echoing off the walls. As much as Robyn wanted to help, it was not the time or place. If he raised a fuss here, they would never reach the prison complex. They simply were too close to the enemy army and would fall before liberating any slaves, failing their mission. It was decisions like these that made his chosen line of work hard. Leaving some innocent people behind for the greater good was sometimes necessary.

He could see the same frustration in the eyes of his teammates as they moved silently among the cacophony of pickaxes striking rock and metal, the strikes of the whips on flesh, the painful moans of the ones receiving unjust punishment, and the angry shouts of the slave masters. The team carried on, their silence heavier than the air around them. It was the cruel calculus of war: sometimes, to achieve the greater good, you had to turn a blind eye to evil. But that didn't make it any easier.

There were far too many captured souls for anyone to claim that there was any justice in the world, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

The tunnels twisted down for hours, the air heavy with ash and dust burning his lungs. No one could live for long in such an environment without getting regular healing from priests, not that they spared priests to heal mere fodder worth less than animals.

After what felt like hours of descent, the tunnels opened into a vast cavern complex. Here, the Dark Iron Empire housed its prisoners-those deemed valuable enough to warrant containment rather than immediate execution or enslavement. They divided the cavern into cells, each carved directly into the black stone. Thick iron bars reinforced with runes of binding and suppression ensured that escape was nearly impossible.

Inside the cells, prisoners huddled in the shadows, their eyes flickering with faint traces of despair.

"Breaking out even a few of them won't be easy," Robyn muttered, his voice low. His gaze swept over the cavern, taking in the patrols of Dark Iron guards and the arcane constructs that lumbered along the perimeter.

"We'll have to be picky about who we choose," Ethil said, her sharp eyes scanning the prisoners, already calculating which of them might be most valuable to their mission.

Nisle nodded, though his expression was grim. "Let's hope whoever we pick is worth the trouble, because we're not getting a second chance at this."

Editing by aidan_lo and NabeisWaifu

Proofreading by IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, fvvck, and aidan_lo.

Link my discord server (https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2)

Chapter 37: Volume 2 - Chapter 08

Chapter 8

The prison complex loomed with an air of oppressive menace, its unevenly chiseled walls appearing to weep with moisture that stunk of sulfur. The dim, flickering torchlight barely lit the cavernous corridors, creating long, dancing shadows of possible guards and traps. Robyn constantly assessed the situation, his sharp eyes darting to the patrol ahead. Each patrol consisted of two to three dark iron guards, their heavily armored boots thudding against the stone floor. Beside them stalked a pair of bloodhounds, grotesque creatures as big as regular guard dogs, their fur slick fiery red with bright yellow manes covering their heads and necks. This meant sneaking in was impossible as they would be sniffed out and ambushed.

Robyn felt the weight of leadership pressing harder than ever. He could almost hear the internal clock ticking down with every passing second, ticking down to their deaths. The group couldn't afford a prolonged wait, it would drain Anny's limited mana. Settling for a long wait would mean Anny would have to keep the camouflage up while gulping down all the mana potion and consuming all the mana gems they had, likely getting light arcane poisoning since she wasn't good at dealing with prolonged magical exposure or overloading her mana pool. Even Nisle was cautious regarding rapid mana regeneration and had a century's worth of experience as an arcanist.

That left the other option. Go in hard and get in fast.

"Listen up," Robyn gathered their attention, his voice slicing through the tension. "We can't sneak around this one so we're taking the left route and tearing up as many cells as we can before we are discovered and reinforcements are sent. Leave no one alive and kill dwarves first. Ethil, you're up."

The elf nodded, her expression as cool and precise as the arrow she had already nocked to her bow. She motioned for the group to move in silence, relying on subtle hand signals only they knew.

The group moved like shadows, the rough unpolished stone of the floor threatening to betray them, its uneven surface demanding a dancer's balance to avoid dislodging loose rocks. A single clatter could be the end. The unsteady floor of the prison complex was chiseled directly in the mountain without any stone plating or decorations, the only clear manufactured parts being the heavy steel doors, likely by exhausted slave hands.

The approaching patrol was close now. Two dark iron dwarves, a gunner and a shieldbearer, walking in a casual but alert formation with two bloodhounds. Their gravelly voices echoed faintly as they discussed the mobilization of the entire army.

"Flanks are too exposed in the south tunnels," the gunner muttered.

The shieldbearer grunted. "Doesn't matter. Reinforcements are coming from Blackrock Foundry soon enough. Let those green-skins try anything-"

Ethil's silent hand signal froze the group in place. She motioned toward the gunner first, then the hounds. Her whispers were barely audible, "Anny, take the shieldbearer. Nisle, freeze the dogs. Robyn, prepare to charge and bring all the attention to yourself should anything go wrong."

Ethil's bowstring hummed as she loosened her arrow, impaling the gunner right in the eye, the force of the impact snapping his head back. He crumpled to the ground in a lifeless heap, the hole in his helmet's visor oozing blood like lava from a mountain fissure. Anny's aim was nearly as precise, but her arrow glanced off the chainmail covering the shieldbearer's chest. The dwarf staggered but remained standing, his beady eyes narrowing, as he began screaming at the top of his lungs, "Intruders!"

The bloodhounds snarled, their glowing eyes flaring with sudden feral alertness. Nisle's hands moved in intricate patterns, weaving a spell with frantic finesse. A wave of frost surged forward, creeping across the ground like a living thing. It reached the hounds' fiery paws, freezing them in place. The creatures howled, their cries animalistic and feral.

"Good enough," Ethil muttered, already nocking another arrow and taking aim.

The shieldbearer roared and charged, his axe glinting ominously in the dim light. Robyn stepped forward to intercept, his sword meeting the axe in a clash that sent sparks flying from the sheer impact.

"Little help here!" Robyn grunted as the dwarf's strength pushed him back a step.

Annie didn't hesitate. "On it!" She drew her bow again, her eyes narrowing in concentration. This time, her arrow struck true, embedding itself in the dwarf's exposed thigh. He howled in pain, his stance faltering just enough for Robyn to drive his sword through the gap in the shieldbearer's armor, slicing into his neck.

The dwarf collapsed, and Robyn turned to see Ethil finish off the frozen bloodhounds with a pair of perfectly placed arrows. The creatures fell silent, their glowing eyes dimming like embers snuffed out by water, never to light again.

Nisle surveyed the scene, his small form somehow exuding authority. "Well, that was efficient," he quipped. "I'd say we're off to a fantastic start, assuming reinforcements don't show up in the next thirty seconds."

Robyn wiped his sword on the shieldbearer's tunic, his breathing heavy but controlled. His voice cut through, "Change of plan. Break down those doors, arm prisoners, don't bother with stealth, and hopefully, we find the right guys before we need to retreat. Estimate?"

Nisle, mid-spell, glanced at him with a wry smile, "Ten minutes tops assuming they don't have enough guards to immediately stop us."

Robyn's shield slammed into the nearest door, the force reverberating through the metal and his arm alike. The lock crumpled under the impact, and the door swung open with a groan. He didn't expect what came next.

Standing in the doorway was an orc. A giant of a creature, easily towering over him by more than a head. His wild, graying mane framed a face marred by cuts and bruises and shadowed by exhaustion. His beady eyes stared through his wild graying hair. His massive frame barely fit within the confines of the cell, and his shredded pants did little to preserve his decency, though modesty seemed the least of his concerns.

For a split second, Robyn hesitated. His instincts screamed danger. This was an orc, the same kind of monster that had ravaged his homeland, destroyed his family, and left him clinging to his mother's bloodied arms. Yet there was something in the orc's gaze, a raw determination that spoke of shared hatred, not for each other, but for their captors.

The orc broke the silence. "Human. Give me weapons. I'll fight by your side. We escape together."

The words were simple, but the weight behind them was undeniable. Robyn's gut told him to trust, and in moments like this, there was no time for contemplation. "Fine. Pick one off the dead guards. Tear down the other cells, arm the prisoners, and move fast. We've got little time, they're coming."

The orc's lip curled; without another word, he strode past Robyn, his massive hands scooping up a fallen axe from the bloodied ground. The weapon appeared almost comically small in his grip, but the way he wielded it left no doubt that it would be deadly against the incoming reinforcements.

The ensuing battle was a chaotic mess, to say the least. The guards charged in droves, his team and the liberated prisoners, who were in any shape of fighting, joining in. They tore down door after door, dragging out those who were too weak to stand up while arming those ready to raise arms against their jailors. Humans, elves, orcs, trolls, gnomes, dwarves, and even the dark iron ones united as one fought alongside the five adventurers for freedom. They all knew they would only have a chance if they set aside their differences and worked together, regardless of past grudges.

It was a strange sight to be sure, but one that changed something inside him. Maybe he was still clinging to old hatreds that weren't necessary. It was these old grievances that kept the horde and Alliance at odds, not any direct need for conflict, grievances that were hard to forget.

The sight of the man chained to the wall struck a nerve deep within Robyn. His armor, battered and pitted, bore the scars of countless battles, but the man's spirit was unbroken. His face, though brutalized, radiated a fierce resolve. This wasn't just a prisoner; this was a warrior who had refused to kneel to unspeakable despair. Without hesitation, Robyn drew his blade and cut the chains, the man falling and dropping on one knee. Despite his obvious injuries, he didn't look defeated, just momentarily bowed.

"On whose behalf are you here, adventurer?" the man asked.

"Lady Jaina hired us. There is no time. Come on!" Robyn relayed the most critical information and urged the man to follow.

The man's face lit up with hope, "Thank the light. Listen, I need to get back to Stormwind, warn the Lord Regent-"

Robyn interrupted the man, "We'll figure out that once we're out of here. If you are with the crown, Lady Jaina will help you."

"Noted," The man replied grimly. Without hesitation, he grabbed a gun from a dead Dark Iron dwarf, his hands moving with practiced ease.

Robyn could only hope that this was the man they were here to rescueThere wasn't time for second-guessing, not with the sound of marching boots growing louder. A full squad of Dark Iron dwarves- at least twenty dwarves, armed to the teeth- was closing in fast. Bullets ricocheted off the walls and Leroy's and Nisle's shields with sparks drowning the frantic whispers of the team.

"It's time, Nisle! Get us the hell out of here!" Robyn barked shielding an elderly human woman who stumbled as she tried to keep up.

Nisle darted ahead, his tiny frame nearly disappearing in the chaos. He pulled a rune from his pockets, and slammed it against the floor of a wider chamber. Mere seconds later a portal opened its glimmering surface, revealing a blurry image of the streets of Ironforge beyond.

"Everyone, through the portal!" Robyn ordered.

For a moment, there was hesitation among the freed prisoners. Orcs and trolls exchanged wary glances, clearly unsure whether they could trust the individuals from the Alliance. But the sound of the approaching dwarves and the memory of Dark Iron cruelty were more persuasive than any speech could be. One by one, they darted through the portal, their chains clinking faintly as they moved.

As Robyn predicted, they too ran through the portal as his team covered their retreat. He would be last to go through. He already had one leg pierced and Ethil had been hit in the left shoulder, making her unable to use her bow as she was the most targeted member of this team due to her skill with the ranged weapon.

Leroy's shield absorbed a barrage of bullets with a deafening clang, while Ethil hurled a dagger with her right hand with precision that dropped an advancing dwarf, as they disappeared through the portal. Robyn was the last to move. His leg was pierced by a lucky bullet, blood staining his armour, but he forced himself to limp towards the portal. Behind him, the Ironforge guards were closing in, and no doubt more reinforcements were coming. As he crossed the threshold, Nisle snapped the portal shut with a triumphant sigh of relief, cutting off the furious cries of their pursuers.

The cold air of Ironforge was a sharp contrast to the stifling heat of the Dark Iron caverns. Robyn staggered as he emerged, nearly collapsing from the pain in his leg. His blood faintly pooled on the cobblestones. A squad of Ironforge guards approached, their rifles on the ready. Their captain, a stout dwarf with a beard like braided steel wool, stepped forward, his eyes narrowing at the ragtag group.

"We rescued these people from the Blackrock depths! We will comply with your demands." Robyn spoke loudly and clearly, with a slight strain in his tone as he was losing more and more blood.

"Blackrock? You got these lads and lassies out of the clutches of the Dark Iron scum?" he asked, lowering his weapon.

"Yes! Please hurry, these people need help!" Leroy spoke up.

The captain gave a low whistle, clearly impressed, "I'll be damned! Very well. Lower your weapons, lads. Let's get these folks to the infirmary. What's your name, sonny?"

"Robyn, sir."

"Now then Robyn, I will deputize you to oversee these people. Follow me to the infirmary." The dwarf announced, his bulky figure already moving as his men made a perimeter around the group.

Now all that remained was to contact Lady Jaina and receive the just payment. What Ironforge Crown did with the orcs and trolls was out of his hands, but the Bronzebeards weren't known for treating their prisoners harshly.

<X>

Varian jolted upright, his breath uneven and his thoughts muddled. His heart was pounding as if he had just been running for miles. Sweat dampened his brow, and for a moment, the dream clung to him like a shadow. In it, he had been a wolf, muscles taut and ears pricked, the scent of prey thick in his nostrils. He could hear the underbrush crackling beneath his paws.

He tensed up as he gaze darted around the room, taking in the golden sunlight streaming through the windows, bathing the polished wooden floors in a soft glow. The furnishings were simple but dignified: a nightstand, a sturdy wardrobe, and a small writing desk in the corner. The air was tinged with the faint smell of salt, carried from the sea just beyond Theramore's walls.

'You are among your kind.' Goldrinn's reassuring voice echoed in his mind, its tone soothing but firm, like an old mentor urging calm.

'So I made it to Theramore.' He reasoned as he got out of bed. His memory was hazy. The last thing he clearly remembered was the city's towering gates framed by the setting sun before exhaustion had claimed him.

Varian swung his legs over the edge of the bed, the cool floor grounding him in the present. Catching his reflection in the mirror attached to the wardrobe, he winced slightly. A jagged scar ran the length of his face, starting near his temple and narrowly missing his eye. It was fresh, the skin pink against his pale complexion. His silk shirt and pants felt soft and finely made, which meant he was recognized and treated according to his standing.

He saw no reason to waste time now that he was awake and most of his strength had returned. With a deep breath, he stood, his joints protesting slightly as he moved towards the door and stepped out of the room. He nearly collided with a woman in a white woollen robe, who stumbled back, her eyes wide with surprise before she hastily bowed.

"Your majesty, it's good to see you have awakened! I will notify Lady Jaina at once," she said.

"Lead me to her," Varian replied curtly, his tone born of urgency rather than rudeness. There was little need for pleasantries and protocol, when there was work to be done.

The woman nodded and quickly turned, her footsteps light as she led him out of the infirmary. The walk took them outside briefly, where Theramore's towering walls loomed above. The city bustled with a flurry of activity.

Jaina's Tower came into view, its white stone walls gleaming in the sunlight. It stood proudly in the very center of the city, overlooking the domain of the Kul'Tiran royal turned leader of her own citystate.

Varian couldn't help but think of Jaina's resemblance to his late wife. The young sorceress always had been a sight for sore eyes, in some sense resembling his late wife Tifin, being a kind and compassionate person but not shying away from speaking her mind.

Inside, the air was cooler. The staircase spiraled upwards, its walls adorned with shelves holding books and magical artifacts. As they ascended, Varian could hear voices. The woman led him to the receiving hall at the top of the tower. The space was grand, with large windows allowing natural light to spill across a long table covered in maps and scrolls. Jaina stood at its head, her white and blue robes pristine, her hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders, her piercing eyes fixed on a map.

Beside her stood Aegwynn, her magical advisor. Her silver hair seemed to shimmer faintly, and her eyes held a sharpness that spoke of her brilliance.

But it was the third figure that gave Varian pause. Broad-shouldered and clad in travel-worn armor, his face was unmistakable. A flash of recognition and a surge of old camaraderie struck him like a lightning bolt.

"Windsor!?" Varian exclaimed.

Varian's sharp exclamation echoed through the hall, snapping Jaina and Aegwynn's conversation to an abrupt halt.

The broad-shouldered man turned, his face breaking into an expression of relief. He strode forward, "Your Majesty! You are awake, Thank the light!" without hesitation, Marshal Windsor swept Varian into a bear hug so fierce it could've crushed a lesser man.

To an outsider, Marshal Windsor's actions might have seemed highly inappropriate, especially from a soldier addressing their king. But Windsor wasn't just any soldier. He and Varian had trained side by side in their youth, their bond forged in the heat of sparring and tempered by the fires of war. If anyone had earned the right to hug the kind like a long-lost brother, it was this man.

"I'm not that easy to kill," Varian let out a gruff chuckle, as he patted the man's back with an affection that was as rare as it was genuine.

Varian finally released him, stepping back and clapping a hand on Windsor's shoulder, "I see Jaina wisely picked the man who will get me home in one piece."

Windsor smirked, though the weight of Varian's words wasn't lost on him. Stormwind had endured much in his absence, and his people needed him.

Jaina cleared her throat, drawing their attention, "About that-," her delicate features softened with a warm smile, though her eyes betrayed a simmering urgency as she motioned toward the table, "You better sit down. We have a matter to discuss."

Varian's caught the undercurrent in her tone. He nodded, the joviality from moments before replaced by the calculated calm of a ruler. He settled into the chair across from Jaina, Windsor taking the seat beside him. "Of course, what's this about?"

Windsor rested his hands on the table as he dropped the bomb, "Catrana Prestor has been an impostor all this time. Her real name is Onyxia, better known as the brood mother of the black dragons."

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap.

Varian surged to his feet, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. His blue eyes burned with fury, hands braced against the table, "We need to return immediately and slay the beast!"

Jaina raised a hand, her expression composed but firm, "Varian, please." she interjected, "We need a plan. An adult dragon is no mere beast- it's a force of nature. And Onyxia is ancient, cunning, and powerful. Rhonin is already mobilizing battlemages to assist. The Kirin Tor have a vested interest in resolving this matter."

Windsor nodded solemnly, his tone measured, "She's right, my king. Rushing in without proper preparation would be suicide. And there's more." He leaned forward, his expression darkening, "The black dragons and the orcs of the Burning Steppes are now ruled by two new entities. From what we can gather, these beings are on par with Archimonde himself."

The mention of Archimonde- a demon lord who had brought devastation to Azeroth- hit Varian like a punch to the gut. His teeth bared in a wolfish snarl, and for a moment, he looked every inch the wolf he had been in his dreams.

"I will slay that beast myself, no matter who guards her!" he growled, showing his teeth, his expression that of an enraged wolf raging at the loss of its pack.

"My king, I believe caution must be exercised; if our allies are willing to help, we should at least wait for the help to arrive before storming the castle," Windsor advised knowing that Varian would not just back down and was out for Onyxia's blood.

Jaina stepped forward, her eyes pleading, "Anduin is safely in the care of Lord Regent Bolvar and I gave him an artifact to teleport here should his life be endangered. Please trust me on this, Varian."

Her words brought a flicker of pain to his eyes, a reminder of Tiffin, whose memory still haunted him. Jaina's resemblance to Tiffin was both a blessing and a curse, a constant echo of what he had lost. The loss of his life was something he would never get over or forgive himself, Jaina being a painful reminder of his loss. Perhaps a curse of nobles' being relatives to some degree and at times having similarities in their appearances.

The mention of his son's safety brought a measure of calm to Varian. Finally, he exhaled deeply, the tension in his shoulders easing, "You are right," he admitted, his voice quieter. "Thank you for everything you have done. You have been a good friend and ally. How long would it take to assemble a strike force?".

Jaina inclined her head, a faint smile gracing her lips, "A few days at most. Rhonin is recalling all his most talented mages from expeditions. We'll have a force capable of taking her down."

"In that case, I will ask you one more thing. I will need a good weapon, armor and a place to train." His tone left no room for debate, and his expression was that of a man who would not rest until he was prepared to take back what had been stolen.

Jaina nodded, her eyes meeting his, "I will provide everything you need. The armory will be at your disposal."

"Excellent. Windsor," Varian said, his voice hardening as he turned to the marshal, "I will need a decent sparing partner. You still know how to hold a sword, don't you?"

Windsor laughed, clapping his king on the shoulder. "Oh, I might just teach you a thing or two, Your Majesty."

Varian scoffed, already heading for the door. "We'll see about that."

As the two men exited, behind them Jaina and Aegwynn exchanged amused glances. Although the road ahead was fraught with peril, they were ready for whatever lay ahead.

Editing by aidan_lo and NabeisWaifu.

Proofreading by fvvck, IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO

Link my discord server (https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2)

Chapter 38: Volume 2 - Chapter 09

Chapter 9

The skies above Alcaz Island churned with the beat of numerous pairs of massive, leathery wings. Forty adult black dragons circled in an overwhelming display of power, their onyx scales gleaming like shards of obsidian rocks in the faint sunlight filtering through the misty morning sky. More than half were classified as wyrms or elder dragons, which meant they were at least five centuries old, while the remainder weren't far behind. In the midst of the herd, various dragons bore the weight of drakonids and dragonspawn on their backs - fifteen drakonids and ten dragonspawn to be exact - all snarling with bloodlust, eager to prove their worth.

At the forefront of the airborne formation was Nefarian, son of Deathwing, his colossal form exuding the faint shimmer of unholy magic. His rotting paws, partially encased in blackened bone, moved with eerie precision as he wove a massive spell at the command of his superior.

The dimensional lock spread across the island like a shadowy dome, shimmering faintly with deathly energy. Nefarian allowed himself to muse, his thoughts briefly flashing back to the humiliating day his master had used the very same magic to trap him and his sister, Onyxia. He was adamant about not letting a single naga escape to ensure there were no reports back to Queen Azshara and result in a possible untimely retaliation. The Naga queen would be dealt with in time, likely when she decided to emerge from the depths and cause trouble for his masters, but that was a concern for another day.

Floating before his assembled forces, he gave the command. "Let none escape!"

The dragons descended upon Alcaz as one, the whole stronger than the power of the individuals. Their wings carved through the air with deafening roars as the rush of displaced wind shook the leaves off the trees on the island. Naga warriors scrambled from their makeshift fortifications, their desperate shouts quickly drowned out by the roars of the dragons. The shore became a scene of utter chaos as the dragons dropped in the troops. First to hit the ground were the drakonids, their heavy armor crunching through the sand, murderously keen for the fight they got. Behind them, a couple of dragonspawn followed, their long, sinuous tails lashing out behind them as they darted among their foes, slashing with curved blades.

Searing flames rained from above them as the elder dragons detonated entire clusters of the naga below them with a coordinated volley, the sand below their feet burning to crystal glass within seconds. The sea bubbled in places where the fire reached too quickly; salt burned its way into the air amidst the smell of burning scales and flesh.

The battle, if it could even be called that, was a one-sided massacre. The naga fought valiantly, but it was a futile effort. Against such overwhelming force, their formations crumbled. The tide of battle quickly turned into a rout, and then a massacre. A rare few surrendered and were tied up by the drakonids to be delivered back to Nazarick for interrogation and experimentation. In a mere twenty minutes, the island was cleared of hostiles, and the captured and slain naga dropped into two piles in the central camp once made by human hands, stripped of weapons and hope.

Nefarian's great wings carried him over the now-desolate island, his keen eyes scanning the battlefield below. Flames still licked at the edges of the jungle, their glow casting flickering shadows on the twisted forms of slain naga and broken weapons. Satisfied, Nefarian descended toward the camp. His landing shook the earth, and the blackened sand and glass beneath his feet cracked under his weight, threatening to give. With a dismissive wave of his paw, he assumed his tall, imperious human form, dressed in a flowing black robe. He strode through the camp, his booted feet crunching against the scattered remnants of what had once been a human outpost, wood and stone alike shattering beneath his might. The smell of salt, blood, and charred flesh hung heavy in the air. The Naga captives shrank back as Nefarian approached, their coiled tails twitching in fear. His red eyes raked over them like a wolf deciding which sheep to devour first.

Nefarian stopped before the group, his gaze locking onto a still-defiant-looking naga sorceress. She was a grotesque figure - no doubt a once beautiful highborne night elf twisted into her current serpentine form by the influence of the Old Gods. Her scaly skin shimmered faintly in the firelight. There were two panting holes in place of where her nose would be, and instead of hair, she had rows of slimy fins. "Where is the captured human king?" He asked her, his tone calm and measured.

The sorceress hissed, her forked tongue flicking defiantly, "I will tell you nothing, traitor. Old ones will make you pay!"

Nefarian's lips curled into a sardonic smirk. "The Old Ones? Oh, how quaint. I serve a master far greater than your Old Gods. Compared to the might of Ainz Ooal Gown, N'Zoth is nothing."

The naga's sneer deepened, her guttural voice laced with venom, "Fool! The arrogance of dragons knows no bounds. You will-".

"-Educate you, yes." Nefarian interrupted, his smirk widening. "I'll give you a glimpse of the master's power."

Nefarian's mask of politeness slipped as he smirked with unrestrained malice. His sharp nail, unnaturally long and glinting with a dark hue, pressed against the base of Naga's neck. With casual, almost lazy movement, he dragged it downward, slicing through the scales as easily as wet parchment. A thin, dark line of blood welled up in its wake, and the Naga's face twisted with pain and strain, though she bit down a scream.

"Now, let me show you something," Nefarian purred. His voice dropped to a near whisper, dripping with malice. As his nail stopped between her bare scaly breasts, he leaned forward, his glowing eyes locking onto hers. The air around him seemed to thicken, pulsing with the raw power of the undead dragon.

A vision unfolded in the Naga's mind. It was a glimpse of the very moment Nefarian had first knelt before Ainz Ooal Gown, the Supreme Being who had effortlessly shattered his pride, his will, and his very concept of mortality. Infinite darkness spread outward, its edges alive with an incomprehensible power that made the Old Gods seem like squabbling children in a sandbox, whilst Ainz Ooal Gown was the adult watching over. It was the kind of power that broke minds and crushed souls with ease, capable of ending civilizations in an instant.

The naga gasped, her pupils narrowing to slits as her body trembled. "This... can't... be... Such power... it's impossible!"

"Now you understand. And you will always know. That you chose wrong." Nefarian's cruel laughter filled the air.

The sorceress broke, her defiance replaced by fear. "I will serve your master, dragon," she whispered hoarsely, her voice trembling. "His power is undeniable."

"Oh, you will serve." Nefarian gleefully seized her neck, his other hand holding her in place. His clawed hand shot forward, piercing her chest with a sickening crunch. The naga thrashed, blood gushing from the wound as her gills flared in a desperate struggle.

"But not in the way you hope. Your corpse will be reanimated to do the most menial of tasks, while your mind will fully remember your mistake, unable to escape. And you will serve forever, forever to repent for your mistake of momentary resistance!" he added with a laugh, his fingers curling around her heart. He squeezed just enough to rob it of its rhythm, her body convulsing as the light in her eyes faded away. With a final jerk, he yanked his hand free, tossing her limp form onto the growing pile of corpses.

Turning to the remaining naga, Nefarian allowed his bloodied hand to drip as he addressed them, his voice casual, as if discussing the weather. "Now then, does anyone want to tell me where the human king is?" He casually lifted his blood-covered hand and wiped the blood off with a piece of clothing offered by one of drakonids, tossing it away.

"Let us serve your master and we will tell your master everything we know." Another naga sorceress offered, getting down as low as she could.

"We need assurance that we won't be killed and turned undead." A much bulkier male naga, likely a berserker beside the sorceress, slid forward with a wary glance at the corpse.

Nefarian tilted his head in mockery of thoughtful consideration. "Hmm, interesting proposal." He waved a hand toward the pile of corpses. "Or I could just raise one of them and get answers that way."

The berserker panicked, his words spilling out in a rush, "The human king! A wild god possessed him! He escaped to Theramore!"

"That is unfortunate," the smugness in Nefarian's smirk vanished, his magic flaring.

One of his wyrm subordinates stepped forward, his human form every bit as imperious as Nefarian's. "Lord Nefarian, we have the forces to assault the human city and retrieve him. Shall we proceed?

"No," Nefarian snapped. "That is out of the question. The Emperor has made it abundantly clear that an open conflict with either the Horde or the Alliance is off the table. We'll return to Nazarick and report. Drain the captives' mana for now, we move only as they command."

"Bring us before your Emperor! we will serve him!" The naga sorceress wailed pleadingly.

"Perhaps. If you are lucky, he might find you amusing. Or maybe you'll just clean the floors for eternity. Either way, you'll serve," Nefarian replied. As he turned away, his cacophonous laughter mingled with the despairing cries of the Naga and the roars of his fellow kin.

<X>

Neferian returning without the king of Stormwind wasn't the news he expected to receive. Since Varian supposedly didn't know about Onyxia's involvement in his capture, Ainz and Buku had planned to present Onyxia as the one who found Varian and request Nazarick to free him, painting the picture of the dragoness looking out for the Kingdom of Stormwind despite her ruse. Now that plan was out of the window and it was only a matter of time before Varian returned home, meaning new schemes had to be concocted.

Ainz and Buku sat on their thrones atop an elevated dais at the head of the hall deep within the mountain. Once jagged and crude, the stone walls now glimmered with smooth, polished stone, their perfect surfaces reflecting the cold light of the chandeliers suspended above. Each chandelier glowed with magical lights, casting long shadows that danced across the marbled floors. A red rug ran the room's length, its edges embroidered with gold patterns hinting at grandeur craftsmanship.

Before them, the twenty-two naga prostrated themselves in submission, their scaly bodies pressing deeply against the thick silken rug. Each one trembled visibly under the weight of the situation, fearing for their lives. Nefarian and Onyxia stood to the side of the dais, towering even in their human forms above the captives. Rows of drakonid honor guards flanked the walls, their scaled armor gleaming as they gripped their halberds with stout discipline.

Buku broke the silence, "Hmm, do you think we even need these creatures?" She gestured vaguely at the naga with one hand, her tone carrying the air of someone considering whether to keep a mildly interesting trinket or toss it away, turning to her husband.

The naga had surprising variety in both size and attributes. The males were a lot bulkier than females, but some stood out even among their peers, making orcs appear unimpressive by comparison. The females on the other hand had either two or four arms, some having fins on their heads while others had snakelike protrusions that seemingly moved on their own. What was most curious was that they had breasts despite all sources on Naga stating that they laid eggs and didn't breastfeed their young. Ainz could only write it off as a remnant of their origin as night elves, left for unknown reasons.

Ainz steepled his bony fingers before him, the motion slow. "They may have their uses. We may one day acquire lands by the sea or regions with large bodies of water," he replied.

"Good point. Fine. I guess I'll cleanse them and bind them." Buku glanced over the scaly creatures with disinterest, weaving a small magic circle. Her disinterest was a careful performance; she knew Ainz's collector's instinct well. He would never allow such exotic creatures to easily slip through his grasp.

As if on cue, one of the naga-a female with four arms and a more refined air than the rest-raised her head slightly, her voice urgent but deferential, "We have uses, your Imperial Majesty. Please spare us."

Ainz tilted his head as he regarded her. "Are you the leader of this group?"

"I will lead them for you, Your Imperial Majesty. I was second in command of the clan," She replied, her voice steady despite the intense tremor running her coiled body.

Buku leaned forward slightly, her curiosity piqued. "What's your name?" she enquired as she prepared to use the light. Her proficiency was growing daily and she now could use the binding ritual on masses without affecting Ainz or any of his undead servants.

"Ral'es, Your Imperial Majesty," the naga replied, pressing her four arms firmly against the rug in a gesture of complete submission. Her voice wavered just enough to betray her desperation.

Buku stood from her grand throne, her halo and the golden wings briefly appearing. The Naga recoiled slightly, their eyes wide with awe and fear as the magic threatened to course through their bodies.

"Very well, Ral'es," Buku stated, "Let us see if you are worthy of the power I am about to expend." Light cascaded from her palms, her divine energy rapidly enveloping the naga. The holy light washed over them, burning away the corruption of the Old Gods and binding their wills to her. The naga writhed and hissed as the radiance coursed through them, replacing the only energies they had only ever known. When the light faded, the hall fell silent once more. Ral'es lifted her head to meet Buku's gaze and declared resolutely, "We are yours to command, Your Majesty!"

"Now then, Ral'es. You will have to prove I didn't waste my power on you and your kind. Rise."

The leader of the naga slowly stood up, her snake-like lower half coiling in excitement. "We can find more of our kind and bring them into your service," Ral'es suggested, her voice resonating with newfound determination. "We could build an army to ambush ships and the coast in your name." Her lower half curling and uncurling, as if to punctuate her resolve.

Ainz's red orbs glowed faintly. "Tell me," he began, "do Naga cultivate fish as a food source?"

"Yes, but all of us here are combat-oriented. We do not possess the appropriate knowledge. I personally specialize in nature magic. However, We can capture Naga civilians for you - those with the required expertise." She replied, bowing deeply as she spread her four arms.

Ainz leaned back, "Then you will bring back naga who can populate Nazarick's lakes and rivers with fish. Nefarian," he turned his crimson gaze toward the black dragon, "assign a dragon capable of casting Gate to oversee this operation."

"As you command master." Nefarian inclined his head deeply. He gestured for the naga to follow and with a hiss of compliance, they slithered out of the throne room under his watchful gaze.

The heavy stone doors closed with a resounding thud, leaving only Ainz, Buku, and the drakonid honor guard in the room. Buku let out a small sigh, folding her arms as her eyes flicked to Ainz, "So what's the plan for Stormwind?"

"For now, Onyxia will maintain her role. She will keep watch over the current king. If her cover is blown, she's to retract without causing excessive damage. We already need to deal with the Dark Iron Empire first; having another war would only complicate matters at the moment."

Onyxia, who had remained silent, shifted slightly. She bowed her head in understanding, her raven-black hair spilling over her shoulders. "Then I would suggest ceasing hostilities in Redridge. Varian is a complete moron as a king, but he is a great warrior and frontline commander. Add a wild god to the mix and even he might cause some trouble for many among our ranks." She spoke cautiously. Despite being Buku's second in command, she remained wary of Ainz's impassioned pragmatism. Should she lose favor, other female dragons would step up to create the new generation of dragons; she too could be turned into an undead or, even worse, dinner if she went too far. Buku had told her gorey details how she and Ainz feasted on Firemaw to make a point that she should never grow too arrogant to think there weren't other uses for her.

"Yes…" Ainz stroked his pointy chin, "You're right. We should fortify our position in the Redridge Mountains and halt all regional raids. I'll speak to Nefarian about this upon his return."

"Then, with your permission, I'll be on my way," Onyxia requested, "Bolvar and Shaw are growing increasingly suspicious of me as it is."

"Before you go," Ainz interjected, pulling a small scroll and a folded note from his inventory before continuing, "check on the gnomes we contracted for the air purifier. The Pipegear family has an engineering shop in the Dwarven district of Stormwind. Convince them to work directly for Nazarick if possible." He handed her the items.

"Of course, Your Majesty. I will see to it promptly." Onyxia accepted the papers with a nod and teleported away.

"I hope they have a working model. Even with magic, the air in the spire is stale and freaking stinks," Buku remarked.

"Icuz already had a blueprint, so he likely has built a working model and is just waiting for us to show up. Hopefully they agree to work for us directly. A well-managed science department is what we're missing right now."

"And you know," Buku added, "things like coffee machines and TV and computers. They should be able to build all that."

"We'll see. You know where our priorities lie."

"I know, I know." Buku sighed dramatically, "Not turning the world to shit takes precedence over luxury."

Editing by NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, fvvck, and aidan_lo.

Link my discord server (https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2)

Chapter 39: Volume 2 - Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Ainz sat motionless on his throne with mild confusion, a faint firefly glow in his red eyes, the only visible reaction to the sudden swirling Gate opening in the middle of the throne room. He recognized the magic-it was Onyxia's, so it wasn't an unauthorized breach—but what took him by surprise was the unexpected procession that followed.

From the portal emerged Onyxia's elite dragons, disguised in their Stormwind guard visages, carrying numerous large bags and boxes.

Then came more.

And more.

Ainz silently counted as the mountain of cargo piled higher and higher, consuming the once-pristine floor of the throne room like a greedy dragon hoarding its spoils. A single minute stretched into eternity as drakonid after drakonid emerged, hauling yet another box, yet another sack, yet another thing that had no business being dumped before the King of Death himself.

Finally, the last few figures stepped through, and Ainz's nonexistent eyebrows would have risen had he still possessed them. These ones were not carrying cargo.

Bound in thick rope, gagged with coarse cloth, and wriggling like helpless fish caught in a net, a group of small humanoids were dragged forward. Ainz immediately recognized their distinctive round faces, their absurdly large goggles-even when terrified, they never seemed to remove those things- and their short, frantic limbs. Gnomes

Upon seeing him, the gnomes started to shiver in fear but then grew confused, seeing Buku sitting beside him.

"We brought you the gnomes you requested, Your Imperial Majesty, on Lady Onyxia's behalf." One of the drakonids saluted smartly.

Buku groaned audibly as she pinched the bridge of her nose with exasperation. "Oh, for the love of... Subtle as a brick through a stained-glass window," she grumbled. "This isn't even remotely what we had in mind."

Ainz glanced toward her, a wry amusement hidden behind the motionless skeletal form. "You may have a point."

Standing to his full height, Ainz raised a commanding hand, his long, bony fingers radiating authority as he dismissed the drakonids. "You may return to your duties. I will take it from here."

The drakonids saluted again, their swords clacking against their armour as they marched back through the gate. The portal collapsed behind them, leaving the room conspicuously crowded with dishevelled gnomes, scattered cargo, and the lingering tension of what had just transpired.

Ainz motioned to one of the drakonid guards stationed near the wall. "Untie him," he commanded, gesturing toward the gnome in the centre of the pile, who bore a striking resemblance to Icuzz Pipegear.

The guard obeyed, and the gnome was freed, though his trembling hands immediately went to clutch at the nearest crate as if for balance, or perhaps as a makeshift barrier between himself and the towering figures around him. Slowly, Icuzz stood, his small stature making him appear even more fragile amidst the imposing authority in the throne room. "W-what is going on?" Icuzz squeaked, his voice trembling as his gaze darted nervously from Ainz to Buku to the guards and back again.

"First, I must apologize," he began, his deep voice echoing across the hall. "It seems there was a... misunderstanding. I had merely requested an update on our agreement, not…" his hand swept toward the bound gnomes and the mountains of stolen goods, "...this." He moved to button up his robe and then switched to his visage form for the gnome to recognize him. "Untie the rest of them and let's discuss matters in a more casual environment."

Icuzz's initial relief at the apparent softening of tone was short-lived. The moment his gagged wife and children were freed, his anger bubbled over. "Misunderstanding?!" he shrieked, his high-pitched voice echoing through the chamber. "These brutes bound me and my family, dragged us here like livestock, and stole everything from my shop!"

The outburst was met with an immediate ripple of tension among the guards. One of the drakonids, stepped forward, its halberd glinting ominously as it snarled. "You mortal worm dare-".

The halberd was already mid-swing.

Then it stopped.

Dead still.

Ainz had not moved, but the air itself had.

The room's atmosphere plummeted in an instant, the pressure becoming suffocating as an invisible force clamped down on every living thing in the chamber. The drakonid's arms trembled, its body frozen, as though an unseen hand had seized its very soul. The guards and gnomes alike felt a primal, creeping terror slither up their spines as the temperature of the room seemed to drop several degrees.

Ainz's glowing gaze locked onto the would-be executioner. His voice was calm. Too calm.

"Enough."

The drakonid gasped, immediately retracting its weapon and stepping backward, bowing so low its helmet nearly scraped the floor. "M-my deepest apologies, Your Imperial Majesty."

Icuzz, for all his earlier bravado, now stood as stiff as a malfunctioning automaton, his tiny hands clenching and unclenching as he struggled to process whether he had just barely survived a swift execution… or if he was still scheduled for one. His family, now unbound, huddled together like a gaggle of anxious chicks, their heads swiveling between their patriarch and the undead emperor.

"My initial intention wasn't to kidnap you," Ainz repeated, his voice as smooth as polished obsidian. "Our servant… misinterpreted my request,"

Beside him, Buku gave a dramatic sigh, rubbing her temples. "That's putting it lightly."

"Let me introduce myself again," Ainz continued, stepping forward with an air of grandeur. "I am Ainz Ooal Gown, Emperor of the Nazarick Empire, and this is my wife, Buku."

Wife?

The gnomes' expressions flickered between fear and outright confusion. For most, seeing a terrifying lich in command of an army of monsters was one thing, but seeing that same lich casually introduce an angelic figure as his wife as if this were a polite dinner party? That was simply too much for the brain to process in one sitting.

Ainz gestured broadly to the grand architecture around them. "Welcome to our humble home."

Humble?

The ceiling stretched so high that adult dragons could fit in with ease, grand murals adorned the walls, and the very air itself felt heavy with enchantments. This was not a 'humble home'-this was a domain fit for gods.

"I hope you can join us for dinner so we may discuss business." Ainz continued.

Icuzz blinked rapidly, his brain still struggling to shift gears from 'impending doom to dinner invitation.

The gnome coughed awkwardly. "Uh… Empire of Nazarick? I haven't heard of a place called Nazarick before."

"Our Empire currently controls the upper part of Blackrock Mountain and the region formerly known as the Burning Steppes." Ainz stated with a regal nod.

Icuzz's mind immediately whirred into motion. The Burning Steppes? That wasteland of scorched rock, lava flows, and angry dragons? And yet this emperor spoke of it as though he had conquered a vacation resort.

"Come," Ainz gestured, turning on his heel with a graceful swish of his elaborate robe. Buku did the same, taking her place at his right side. Icuzz quickly caught up , instinctively falling in step at Ainz's left, his family right behind him.

"I see," the gnome said cautiously. "So… what now? The prototype you sponsored is in one of those bags, but you have not paid for the rest of our inventions."

Ainz nodded. "Ah, yes. But I'm sure we can come to an agreement." He cast a side glance at the gnome. "But first, let me treat you to a fine meal for the troubles I have caused.

The words had barely left his mouth before a pair of dragonspawn servants, draped in the livery of the imperial household, pushed open the grand double doors to the dining hall. The gnomes hesitated for only a moment before following their host inside.

The room was breathtakingly opulent. Unlike the darker, more ominous throne room, this chamber was designed to invite rather than intimidate. The walls were painted in warm, welcoming tones, adorned with elegant crest-covered flags. Smooth white stone tiles gleamed underfoot, reflecting the soft golden glow of floating chandeliers.

A vast table stretched the length of the chamber, carved from what appeared to be a single slab of enchanted wood, polished to perfection. The moment they were seated, a small army of dragonspawn servants rushed forward, placing an array of decadent dishes before them.

Buku raised an eyebrow as the gnomes' eyes widened at the sheer variety of food.

Bowls of fresh fruit and golden-fried meats, bottles of aged Stormwind brandy and magic-infused wine, steaming loaves of fresh bread paired with wheels of aged cheese, and an assortment of exotic delicacies sourced from across the known world. Even the presentation was fit for royalty, with intricate garnishes and delicate plating that suggested the chefs behind this feast were nothing short of culinary artisans.

Icuzz, despite himself, hesitated only briefly before grabbing a fork. The rest of his family, initially wary, soon followed suit.

The tension that had lingered in the air slowly began to ease as the gnomes ate their fill, their small hands moving quickly to grab more food while it lasted.

Buku leaned back in her chair, swirling a glass of deep crimson wine. "See? Was that so hard?"

Fenke, Icuzz's wife, licking a bit of sauce from her fingers, narrowed her eyes. "Thank you for the dinner, but I don't appreciate my kids getting scared half to death. You could have just asked us to come for negotiations."

Ainz nodded, tilting his goblet slightly. "That is fair."

That said… I, too, am interested in what you are proposing," she continued.

"Money is a bit tough again, that's for sure," Before Ainz could respond, one of the younger gnomes piped up with the brutal honesty that only children possessed, earning a glare from both Icuzz and Fenke.

Buku leaned forward slightly, "In that case, We'll get right to the point. My husband and I come from another world-one that was polluted and nearly destroyed by unchecked technological progress."

Icuzz's ears perked up at that.

Buku casually stabbed a fork into a piece of golden-brown fried chicken, twirling it slightly as she spoke, "We failed to stop the destruction of our previous world due to severe restrictions on our power. Now that we are here, we do not intend to let this world suffer the same fate." She took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, and continued, "That's why we were so eager to invest in air purification technology. And now, we'd like to make you an offer."

Icuzz leaned forward warily. "What kind of offer?"

Buku's smirk widened, "Simple. Work for us. Start the Nazarick Science branch. We want to be at the forefront of progress and we want to ensure it does not go astray." She gestured broadly, as if painting a vision of a grand future. "In return, you'll have everything you could want-funding, resources, luxury, time for passion projects. You'd never have to worry about money again."

Icuzz took a sip of wine, nodding slowly-until, suddenly, realization crashed over him like an anvil falling from the heavens. His eyes widened to the size of saucers as the words sank in.

"Wait! Wait! WAIT!" The gnome shot to his feet atop his chair, nearly choking on the piece of steak he'd been chewing. His fork clattered noisily against his plate as he gestured wildly with both hands. "You want me and my family to spearhead your entire science branch of the government? The entire thing?!"

Buku sipped her wine, entirely unfazed by his outburst. "Yes, but with our oversight, of course. So you couldn't just do whatever you wanted."

Ainz nodded, his expression unreadable. However, we would give you ample freedom to pursue your interests- within reason, of course."

Buku leaned in slightly, voice taking on a covert edge. "There are certain technologies from our previous world that we would like to see recreated. And you, Icuzz, have already demonstrated a keen interest in purification technology." She smirked. "That means you're already halfway there."

Icuzz opened his mouth-then closed it-then opened it again, struggling to wrap his mind around the sheer scale of the offer.

This wasn't just a job. It was an empire-backed position of immense influence.

Before he could say anything remotely intelligent, Fenke reached up, grabbed his arm, and yanked him back down into his seat with the sheer exasperation of a woman who had seen this play out before.

"Sit down Icuzz!" she hissed. . "Didn't you hear where we are? Ask more questions before agreeing to work for these people."

Icuzz coughed, straightening his waistcoat as if that would somehow restore the dignity he had just lost. "Aghm, of course. If you don't mind, there are a few things I wish to clarify before giving an answer."

"Of course," Ainz intoned, "but keep in mind your status as well. While I don't mind more casual interaction in an informal event such as this, my wife and I are rulers of a nation."

The words carried no anger-only a quiet authority, however, the implication was clear. With the increasingly fanatical devotion of Nazarick's subjects, there was always a risk of some zealous subordinate interpreting perceived informality as disrespect - and disrespecting the Supreme Beings was something Nazarick's denizens did not tolerate lightly. Ainz would rather avoid the unnecessary mess of reigning in an overzealous servant who might take matters into their own hands.

Icuzz, to his credit, had the decency to look appropriately chastised. "Right, my bad, Your Imperial Majesty." He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "In my defense, we gnomes abolished the monarchy centuries ago, and the cultural norms regarding the nobility have somewhat faded from our society."

He leaned forward slightly, watching Ainz carefully for any reaction.

Ainz's skull tilted ever so slightly, as if considering the statement. "That is understandable," he acknowledged at last, in a calm voice. "I personally do not require my titles to be used in every sentence, but there are certain appearances that need to be maintained. A ruler must maintain a certain level of distinction, for the sake of their subordinates, if nothing else."

Buku, still comfortably swirling her goblet of wine, chimed in with an easy smirk. "Basically, don't be too stiff, but don't get too comfortable either. We are trying to run an empire, not a tavern."

Icuzz gave a sharp nod, straightening slightly. "Understood."

Ainz leaned back slightly. "Now, what questions do you have?"

Icuzz took a deep breath, his expression becoming noticeably more serious.

"We gnomes are members of Alliance and I would rather die than let my inventions be used against my own people." His voice carried an unshakable conviction. Across the table, Buku raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"My question is where Nazarick stands concerning the Alliance." He steepled his own fingers, unconsciously mimicking Ainz's earlier posture, though on a much smaller scale. "To my knowledge, the Burning Steppes are occupied by orcs that don't belong to the Horde, and if I am correct, these dark-scaled creatures-" he gestured vaguely toward the drakonid servants standing at attention "-are with black dragons." His tone measured with an underlying concern.

His eyes flickered between Ainz and Buku as he shifted in his seat, the weight of his words pressing down on him like an ill-fitted breastplate. "Don't get me wrong, sire, I would love the position you are offering. But I might not be able to accept it for… moral reasons." Icuzz did his best to make his and his family's position clear. While he detested war, he was a realist and knew that sometimes conflicts were inevitable.

He felt Fenke nod beside him, her lips pressed into a firm line.

Ainz did not react immediately. He simply tilted his skull ever so slightly. Finally, he spoke. "Our current status with the Alliance is… complicated, but hopefully, we can resolve the issues without open war."

"That said," Ainz continued, "are you worried about the entire Alliance? Or just your people in particular?

Icuzz opened his mouth, then hesitated.

"That's… an odd way to phrase it," he said carefully.

Ainz's gaze did not waver, "As far as I know, other races haven't exactly been eager to help the gnomes to liberate their fallen city. I am curious, why?" Ainz asked. Such a question was rather obvious. Why didn't one of the strongest political unions in the world help one of their own? Surely, the city could be cleansed if one impoverished gnome could build an air purifier with full Alliance backing. The task would not be too difficult, it would only be a matter of time.

Icuzz fell silent. He felt something tighten in his chest. Because damn it, Ainz had a point. Sure, the gnomes had found a home among dwarves and humans. They were allies, brothers-in-arms, inventors and strategists who had poured their talents into the Alliance's war machine for generations. But when it came to reclaiming Gnomeregan, their once-proud capital, now little more than a toxic wasteland, the enthusiasm had been… lacking, to put it politely.

Why?

It wasn't as if the Alliance lacked the manpower and resources. Stormwind alone fielded entire legions for their petty squabbles with the Horde, spilling blood over border territories no one actually cared about. Even Ironforge, with its legendary resilience, seemed content to let the gnomes fester in exile, their homeland reduced to a cautionary tale of reckless ambition.

And yet-

Icuzz had no clear answer.

Ainz, ever perceptive, pressed the advantage. "We can agree that Nazarick will do its best to help your people."

Icuzz looked up sharply.

Ainz's fingers steepled before him, the very image of a ruler delivering generosity with all the ease of a god dispensing miracles. "I will allocate resources for you to develop the technology required to cleanse Gnomeregan. "Furthermore, I will hire your brethren to aid in this endeavor-along with their families, should they choose to relocate."

Icuzz's mouth went dry. That was more than he had ever expected.

"For my wife and I," Ainz went on, "clearing out all the hostiles wouldn't be an impossible task. Once we have a proper plan, and provided your people wish to cooperate."

There it was. The unspoken price. This was not charity. It was not some altruistic crusade-Obviously, he didn't make this offer out of the goodness of his heart-to restore a lost people to their former glory. No. This was strategy. And Icuzz wasn't stupid. He understood, immediately, what Ainz was offering. If he accepted, the gnomes would no longer be merely displaced allies scraping by under the Alliance's shadow. They would be Nazarick's gnomes. Ainz's gnomes. The most technologically advanced, brilliant minds of the Alliance, placed under his control, kept in check by his oversight.

Icuzz's stomach twisted. He had spent years dreaming of a way to reclaim Gnomeregan. Had lost sleep over failed proposals, over the sheer apathy of the powers that should have cared but didn't.

And now, sitting across from him, was a skeletal overlord who was not offering empty words. Ainz had not once said, I will consider it. He had said, I will do it. And that made him more dangerous than any Alliance bureaucrat or Horde warlord.

Fenke, ever the more skeptical of the two, folded her arms tightly over her chest, her expression hard as tempered steel. "How can we trust your word alone? You say you'll help our people now, but what if you change your mind later? We wouldn't be able to do anything if you decided to use our inventions for war."

Ainz was silent, unreadable as ever.

But Buku?

Buku snorted.

It was a sharp, incredulous sound, like she had just been asked whether fire was hot.

"Look," she said, leaning forward, planting her elbow on the table and propping up her chin. "We could just hire other talented gnomes, you know. It's not like you're the only ones in the world with brains."

Icuzz stiffened. Buku waved a hand lazily, spinning her goblet between her fingers. "The fact that my husband even made such a generous offer should tell you exactly how interested we are in getting gnomes on our side. Gnomes who can create... Who can research."

Then, her expression shifted, her eyes darkening, "Besides, we don't need weapons to win a war; just two of us are enough. We conquered the Burning Steppes by ourselves, we can do it again."

Then, she leaned back, "So? Do you agree or not?"

She picked up her fork, spearing another piece of fried chicken. " If you don't, we'll take the purifier, send you and the rest of your stuff home, and go find another talented gnome who is ready to work." Buku demanded, clearly starting to lose patience. It would have just been easier to bend the gnomes to her will, but as she and Ainz had agreed, they would only use it if there were no other options. And since the gnome family knew about Onyxia's involvement with Nazarick, they couldn't just be set free, meaning they either agreed outright or were mentally dominated.

Icuzz felt a cold sweat bead at his temple. He knew what she meant. There was no walking away from this. Not anymore. Even if they were sent "home", they wouldn't truly be free. Not after seeing this. Not after learning what they had. They were already caught in Nazarick's web. There were only two options.

Accept.

Or…

He didn't want to think about the alternative.

Icuzz exhaled shakily, glancing at Fenke. His wife held his gaze for a long moment, her lips thinning. Then, slowly, she gave him a barely perceptible nod. A choice, but not really. Icuzz turned back to Ainz and Buku, his hands clenched into fists beneath the table.

"...Yes, we agree." Icuzz agreed.

Buku's smirk widened.

Ainz remarked. "Excellent."

True to their word, Icuzz and his family were quickly granted a spacious living area- so spacious, in fact, that he almost wondered if it had been meant for someone far larger than a gnome. The ceilings were high, the furniture finely crafted, the walls adorned with intricate carvings. It was luxurious to a degree that made even Ironforge's wealthiest noble estates look like hastily assembled lean-tos.

And the laboratory?

The laboratory was massive. State-of-the-art, filled with equipment he had only dreamed of having access to, with a few orcs, trolls, and even an ogre as an assistant for the heavy lifting.

Icuzz just closed his would take some time to earn enough trust to be allowed to travel freely, but for that moment, life was starting to look up.

Editing by aidan_lo, NabeisWaifu.

Proofreading by IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, I AM THE STRING CUTTER, fvvck, and aidan_lo.

Link my discord server (https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2)

Chapter 40: Volume 2 - Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The staging ground for Varian's return to the Stormwind had been meticulously prepared at the base of Jaina's tower. Standing at rigid attention, two dozen highly trained soldiers held formation, proudly showing off the standard sets of Theramore's plate armors stood on the ready. Behind them, a squad of high elven rangers were ready to be ranged support. These sixteen men and women were fugitives of a lost homeland now serving under the young sorceress of Theramore. Their bows, crafted from enchanted yew and strung with the finest silk-threaded sinew, lay in easy reach.

On the far side of the staging ground, Theramore's gryphons caretakers were making their final preparations, feeding the noble beasts. Heavy saddles were strapped in place, and thick leather fastenings double-checked and reinforced. The King's return needed to be swift and effective; hence, horses were ruled out as means of transportation. A direct assault was impossible by land as the commotion would warn Onyxia and give her a chance to flee. The only feasible way in was through teleportation, and even then, Stormwind mage tower was one of the few places not completely blocked against it. Every other inch of the city was protected by arcane barriers, ensuring that no one could just teleport in.

And so, Varian had borrowed one of the enchanted plate sets and a pair of swords from her treasury to be fully prepared to face the beast that had taken over his kingdom. The dark grey plate set with silver decorations made the already tall man even more imposing, giving him the rightful image of the warrior king he was. Jaina, by contrast, remained in her usual outfit as being ready for a battle had become second nature to her.

Varian tightened his grip around the twin swords she had provided, feeling their weight settle into his hands like an old promise. He was ready.

The Kirin Tor mages should arrive any minute.

Jaina was still technically a member of Kirin Tor as she had never formally left the organization and never intended to do so. There was always more to learn, more magic to understand, more power to wield. And a mage's journey for knowledge was never-ending.

Finally, seven mages teleported in one by one.

Jaina stepped forward, her expression composed, "Rhonin. Master Krasus. It's good to see you both." Jaina greeted the pair she knew personally among the group.

The leader of the Kirin Tor inclined his head. Rhonin was the elected leader of the Kirin Tor and a known hero. The man was clad in a well-worn purple robe, the fabric faded in places, with his red unruly locks partly covering his face. The most notable feature was his crooked nose, broken in his youth and left to regrow on its own. There was no doubt for anyone that Rhonin wasn't a mage who had spent most of his life hidden away in libraries even without knowing of his deeds.

And then there was Krasus. The enigmatic high elf joined Kirin Tor before the second war and was Rhonin's close friend and teacher, his skill in magic unrivaled and his past unknown. Very little was known about him save that he was married and from time to time disappeared to spend time with his family. He, same as his student, was a rugged man forged in the battlefield, not a scholarly sanctuary. He wore a red robe typical of a high elf sorcerer and had a sharp gaze.

During the second war Varian, Krasus, Vereesa Windrunner, youngest sister of the now infamous Sylvannas, and Falstad Wildhammer, a famous dwarven hero, were instrumental in freeing the dragon queen Alexstraza from the clutches of the demonic horde thus taking away dragons as their weapon against the Alliance. The final battle was also the last time anyone had seen Deathwing who was grievously wounded while battling the four other aspects.

"Jaina, Varian, good to see you both." Rhonin casually returned the greeting. Varian approached him and extended his hand without saying a word. Rhonin accepted the handshake and continued. "We have gathered as much information as we could, but there isn't much."

"She is a black dragon. They bleed and die just like anyone else." Varian spat.

Krasus chose this moment to step forward, his tone pleasant but carrying subtle, timeless authority, "Onyxia is the least of our problems, your Majesty. The real issue is her potential masters and how they would react if she were to be killed."

Jaina intervened before Varian's temper could ignite, "I think it's best if we let Master Krasus explain before we proceed." Jaina urged, knowing Varian's short temper and eagerness to retake his kingdom.

Varian exhaled sharply, crossing his arms over his broad chest. He did not like delays, "Very well. Please explain why we shouldn't just kill the beast on the spot and mount her head at the gates of Stormwind." he bit out.

Krasus met his gaze, "As I said, Onyxia, though a powerful dragon in her own right, is not the main issue. Recently, two powerful entities, Ainz Ooal Gown and Buku Ooal Gown, took control of the black dragons and the Dark Horde, creating the Nazarick Empire."

He let the words hang in the air for a moment before continuing, "Our initial investigation revealed that Ainz Ooal Gown transformed the entirety of the Burning Steppes into a lush forest. This alone is a feat that should make us wary of his power. With such spells in his arsenal, he could render Stormwind nonfunctional with a single spell."

Varian's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

Krasus pressed on. "Additionally, we could not find any historical reference to what these beings are. They refer to themselves as Supreme Beings-which, given their power, may not be an exaggeration. The closest assumption we can make is that they are likely alien in origin. And while we have no direct confirmation that they control all black dragons-"

Jaina, arms crossed, interrupted. "They killed one in Orgrimmar."

"Indeed," Krasus acknowledged with a slight nod. "However, if our assumed timeline is correct, it happened before the Nazarick Empire was fully established. Meaning, there is a strong possibility that the black dragons weren't yet under their control at that time.

Varian's grip on his swords tightened. His patience was waning, "So you are suggesting I just let her go after everything that beast has done?"

Krasus, to his credit, remained unfazed, "No, not at all, your majesty. The lives of your people take precedence, I am merely suggesting that we approach the matter with a wider perspective-that we do not cause irreparable damage by hastily killing Onyxia. I suggest we attempt to capture her. If she is alive, she becomes a bargaining tool-leverage that allows you to open talks with Nazarick from a position of strength. To my knowledge, Onyxia is one of the oldest dragons alive, and she may have value to them beyond what we yet understand."

Jaina's brow furrowed as she considered the logistics of the plan, "Would we even be able to subdue a dragon? And in the very heart of Stormwind, no less?" she inquired.

Dragons were reclusive creatures, their motives as mysterious as the ancient magics that coursed through their veins. She had fought demons, undead, and horrors from beyond the veil, but never a dragon-not directly. The thought of taking one alive within the city's walls seemed reckless, if not outright suicidal.

Varian, however, seemed unbothered by such concerns. The man was war-forged, his solutions direct and pragmatic, "Cut off her wings, muzzle her, and chain her up. You mages, I assume, can make sure she doesn't use more of her tricks?"

Jaina's lips twitched, not in amusement but in wary curiosity. She had sensed some subtle power within the king. It was unlike anything she was familiar with. Some intangible force was aiding Varian and likely the reason why he survived and escaped captivity.

Rhonin ran a hand through his unruly red hair, considering the plan, "That could be possible, provided we somehow manage to cripple her wings first." he mused.

"I will cripple the beast, you do the rest. Let's go. I don't want my son or my kingdom in her clutches any longer than necessary." Varian urged and hopped on one of the gryphons.

"Agreed," Rhonin nodded, already climbing onto his own mount. He turned to Jaina. "Jaina, are you ready or do you require our assistance?"

Jaina rolled her eyes but smirked slightly. "I can open a portal on my own, thank you," she said as she swung herself onto her gryphon.

Once everyone was assembled, she cast a portal spell. One by one, the force poured through, stepping out onto the stone floor of Stormwind's mage tower.

The city guards barely had time to react before the sky thundered with the powerful wingbeats of the gryphons taking flight. The flying patrols reacted swiftly, though confusion was clear on their faces. Who could blame them? Their king, who had been presumed dead, was now leading an armed force straight for the palace. One of the patrolmen, a seasoned rider with sharp eyes and a firm jaw, swiftly broke formation and pulled alongside Varian. "Lieutenant Vollert, your majesty!" he saluted, shouting over the blazing winds. "Your orders?"

Varian barely spared him a glance as he replied, "Form a perimeter around the castle; be ready to lead people away or assist other units. We have a dragon on our hands."

"Understood, sir." The gryphon rider flew from man to man, issuing orders as they closed in.

The force landed in front of the entrance, boots striking stone with sharp finality. Varian wasted no time, storming forward through the ranks of saluting guards.

"Your majesty."

"Welcome back, your majesty."

"Thank the light; it's you, your majesty!"

The voices of his people rang out, some filled with joy, others with disbelief. Varian barely acknowledged them. His focus was singular, his every step echoing with purpose as he sprinted toward the throne room.

Jaina slowly getting out of breath, was already regretting her decision to keep pace on foot. She ran alongside him, barely able to keep up with the warrior. What made it worse was that neither Krasus nor Rhonin showed the same exertion as her, a reminder that lately she had spent all her time in statecraft and magical studies and neglected to keep her body in shape. She resisted the urge to glare at them. It was undignified.

The massive doors of the throne room came into view. Beyond them, the chamber was just as she remembered; ornate banners, marble pillars, and the looming seat of power itself.

But the throne was not empty. Anduin stood before it, his young face set with a mixture of worry and quiet resolve. Beside him, Katrana Prestor stood with her ever-present air of veiled condescension, flanked by Bolvar Fordragon.

A dwarven diplomat was rambling in the background about the urgent need for more patrols in Hilsbrad.

Katrana, or more precisely Onyxia, awaited them with a wide smile on her face and a hand over Anduin's shoulder.

"Look, Your Majesty." Her voice, warm and falsely sweet, filled the chamber. "Your father is alive. Isn't it wonderful?"

Her sharp gaze flickered briefly to Reginald Windsor before returning to Varian, her amusement barely contained.

"Father!" Anduin's voice cracked with raw emotion. He tried to move-tried to run to Varian, but Katrana held him in place.

"Remember proper protocol," she chided, her tone condescending, her fingers pressing ever so slightly against his shoulder. "You can be father and son in a private setting later."

The temperature in the room seemed to plummet. Varian's hand shot to the hilt of his sword. His knuckles whitened as he ripped the blade free from its sheath in one fluid motion. The sword gleamed in the light of the throne room, its edge whispering death to those who would harm his own.

"Let him go!" he roared.

Bolvar wasted no time and lunged towards the noblewoman, hoping to tear the boy free from her grasp before she could react.

But, to everyone's surprise, Katrana swatted him away like a bug with one hand. A single stroke sent the towering warrior hurtling across the chamber like a ragdoll, his massive frame slamming against the stone wall. The impact sent cracks spiderwebbing through the ancient stone, and with a low, pained groan, Bolvar crumpled to the floor, motionless.

The guards barely had time to process what had just happened, their hands frozen on the hilts of their weapons.

Katrana sighed, almost bored, as she dusted off her glove with delicate fingers. "My my, you found out." Her pleasant mask slipped. "A shame. Let's not make sudden moves, shall we?"

Her hand drifted, one sharp nail pressing against the tender skin of Anduin's throat. The boy swallowed hard, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

Krasus took a single step forward. His voice remained measured, even in the face of disaster. "The ruse is up, Onyxia. You can surrender willingly, and your life will be spared."

Onyxia laughed, "How noble." She flicked her eyes toward the mage, "But I will have to pass upon this offer."

She tightened her grip on Anduin, and he let out a sharp hiss of pain. "You will let me leave and then-"

"Like hell I will, I will send your damn wings to your owners!" Varian roared with what sounded like a howl, his face twisted in a snarl.

Her golden, slitted eyes gleamed as she tilted her head ever so slightly, her fingers tightening around Anduin's shoulder. The boy trembled in her grasp, his face pale, but he did not cry out. Even now, he tried to act strong.

"My masters? Oh! of course, you know. But you misunderstand something, Your Majesty." She stepped forward, still dragging Anduin with her, as if presenting a bargaining chip at the table of kings. "I belong to them and we wouldn't want to anger the Supreme Beings, now would we?"

At that name 'Supreme Beings' a strange hush fell over the room. If anything Onyxia grew more amused as if thinking she was in complete control of the situation because she held the prince hostage.

Jaina had little time to contemplate as she caught the subtle motion of Varian's grip on his weapons. His knuckles whitened, his muscles tensed. He was about to pounce. She gave him a subtle nod, her hinges subtly moving as she prepared a short-range teleportation spell to remove Anduin out of the way.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The cold, commanding weight of Onyxia's voice froze her mid-cast. The black dragon's slitted eyes snapped to Jaina, full of knowing malice. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, she reached for Anduin's throat.

And yanked free the chain snapped with a sharp clink, and the second the stone left Anduin's skin, he screamed in pain.

"Anduin!" Varian moved without reason, his mannerisms resembling those of a cornered wolf.

"Now listen and listen well. I will take my leave and a proper diplomatic delegation will come in my place. Nazarick will enter talks with everyone willing to talk. Stormwind, Dalaran, Theramoor, and the aspects. I can smell the stench of the red one among you, so rely to the Queen what you heard. You will all stand here and wait and if you attack Nazarick's people our precious little prince might not come back in one piece." Onyxia spoke with a hissing tone.

The moment Onyxia stepped backward into the swirling vortex of her portal, dragging Anduin with her, time seemed to stretch into a cruel mockery of reality. Varian's blade swung through the air, a beautiful, deadly arc of steel meant to sever flesh and bone.

But it struck nothing.

The portal collapsed with a dull whoosh, its vanishing tendrils of shadow curling like smoke around the empty space where Anduin had stood just heartbeats before.

Varian's chest heaved.

"Red dragon?" Jaina murmured, her sharp mind latching onto Onyxia's words even through the lingering shock. Her gaze flickered toward Rhonin, who met her stare with a knowing look. 'So one of the mages is a red dragon?'

Her suspicions fell on Krasus. It made sense- his air of detached wisdom, his uncanny insight into draconic affairs, the way he never quite reacted the same way to news about dragonkind. But now was neither time nor place to address the revelation.

Her gaze returned to Varian, who remained standing in the middle of the round throne room, shaking in pure rage. The way his fingers flexed around the hilt of his blade, the way his jaw locked and twitched. Jaina swallowed.

"Varian," she started, carefully, "we will get Anduin back."

There was no response. Her voice took on a firmer edge. "We need to prepare for what is to come. Onyxia wasn't lying about the delegation coming. That gives us time to-"

"I will go there myself." Varian finally snarled, stabbing the sword into the stone tiles beneath his feet "And I will kill them all if as much as a strand of hair falls off my son's head!"

The words shook the air itself. A lesser man's fury might have burned hot but fleeting. Varian's rage, however, was something far more terrifying.

Onyxia was ready for his return. Someone had tipped her off, which meant there were traitors among either the strike party or his people who saw his approach. A thorough cleanup would be needed, that he knew for sure.

Editing by; NabeisWaifu

Proofreading by IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, fvvck

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Chapter 41: Volume 2 - Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The problems faced by Ainz's empire were multiplying like mushrooms after a rainstorm. The Dark Iron sabotage teams had become an unrelenting thorn in Nazarick's side, their tactics evolving from simple destruction to alarmingly creative terrorism. They weren't just blowing up forges anymore - no, these stunted lunatics were now weaponizing fire elementals, setting entire sections of Janvidr ablaze with hellish chemicals that clung to bark and flesh alike. At this rate, Ainz found himself seriously debating whether he should just exterminate the troublesome dwarves altogether rather than wasting precious resources on a long-term occupation strategy.

Of course, there was the original plan; slowly assimilate them, integrate them into Nazarick's war machine, and fold them into a grand empire.

But at this point, he was beginning to wonder if their only real value lay in testing how long it would take for entire species to go extinct when facing Nazarick's full force. But before he could even draft a proper "Reasons to Wipe Out the Dark Iron" list, other problems clawed at his attention.

The situation in Redridge was deteriorating faster than a goblin's credibility in a business deal. The gnolls, once nothing more than scattered mangy nuisances, had suddenly stopped acting like the usual rabid trash heaps they were known to be. Now, they were growing restless and openly ignoring the orders of their orc handlers. Worse still, they had a singular leader - a brutal warlord named Yowler - and creating a troublesomely strong army that was terrorizing both the orc fortifications and human settlements in the region.

The real problem was their numbers. Nazarick's forces were outnumbered one to twenty; more and more resources needed to be allocated to crushing this uprising; otherwise, the gnolls would continue gnawing away at his control like termites in a rotting ship. Then there was some unsavory goblin company slithering into the mix, setting up harvest operations under the cover of forged documents that even managed to fool some of Nazarick's more simple-minded minions like the orcs and the trolls. The moment one such cell was discovered and destroyed, the small green creatures scattered away like cockroaches, only for the survivors to resurface somewhere else with a fresh pile of contracts.

The animal problem was still as prevalent as before as if there was something wrong with forests Ainz had created. It was as if something deep within the land itself rejected its unnatural origins, and none of his subordinates could pinpoint the exact problem.

Perhaps the most unexpected logistical nightmare was a severe shortage of dragons.

Despite the rapid growth and maturation rates of his scaled war assets, dragons still took years to reach full strength. And while almost every female of breeding age was currently pregnant and about to lay eggs, there were simply not enough adults to handle the overwhelming amount of empire-building tasks being placed on them.

Onyxia, in particular, had remained stubbornly mateless, prioritizing her political maneuvers and ongoing operation in Stormwind over ensuring the next generation of scaled horrors.

Ainz, in a rare moment of introspective irony, found himself understanding the struggles of overworked administrators everywhere. He was essentially trying to build a thriving empire, but instead of competent subordinates, he had to deal with sabotaging dwarves, rebellious gnolls, treacherous goblins, malfunctioning nature, and a dragon maternity crisis.

At present, Ainz and Buku found themselves dealing with yet another urgent matter - the proposed expansion of the spire to prepare nurseries for the next generations of dragons.

Seated upon their respective thrones, they listened as Edwin animatedly explained logistical and workforce issues unfolding before them.

"This isn't just a building project," Edwin stressed, his fingers tapping against a floating blueprint scroll. "We're talking about reinforcing the entire Spire to support the sheer weight and environmental needs of hundreds of growing dragons. The stonework alone is an issue, not to mention feeding them, training them, and ensuring they don't just… start fighting each other to death in adolescence."

Ainz nodded, his skeletal fingers idly tapping against the armrest of his throne, though his true focus was split between note-taking and doodling in his notebook. Buku, on the other hand, was multitasking on a whole different level-half-listening while enjoying a lavish lunch from a platter held by one of her handmaidens.

"Okay," she said, swallowing a bite of what looked like some kind of exotic roast, "so, let me get this straight; we need bigger, sturdier nesting grounds, more food, and an entire infrastructure dedicated to making sure the next generation doesn't eat each other before they reach basic sapience?"

Edwin exhaled heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That's… an oversimplification, but yes, my lady."

Buku speared another piece of meat with a clawed fork, popping it into her mouth before muttering, "Sounds like every noble family."

Ainz almost snorted-not that he could, but the sentiment was there.

"Alright," Ainz said, sitting straighter, "let's break this down - materials, workforce, and a timeframe. Edwin, how long would it take to expand the Spire without compromising its structural integrity?"

Edwin rubbed his temples. "Given the sheer scale of the modifications? We'd need at least a year for a proper foundation-"

"Unacceptable," Ainz cut in smoothly. "We don't have a year."

Edwin sighed. "Then we'll need… nontraditional solutions."

Buku raised a brow. "Nontraditional?"

Edwin hesitated before clearing his throat. "Have you considered… using Dark Iron Golems? Those metal monstrosities go through stone like butter. If we could capture and reprogram some they could be irreplaceable."

Ainz tapped his fingers together thoughtfully. "Hmm… golems. That could work if it is possible to reprogram them. The problem is dwarves are not letting their engineers anywhere near the front lines, likely in fear of us capturing and controlling them."

"I'll note it as an option but not a go-to plan for now." Edwin nodded

Ainz sighed, staring down at his half-finished doodle of a chibi Onyxia breathing fire at a very smug-looking goblin. One crisis at a time.

"Speaking of Golems, did you talk with Icuzz about possible mechanical solutions?" Ainz inquired.

Edwin, swaying slightly, exhaled through his nose before answering, "Not yet. From what I heard, it will take weeks just to set up the laboratory, and even if he comes up with a solution on the spot, it would take months to build anything useful. It would require setting back other projects by months. We could… use captured dwarves as a slave force." His voice was even, but exhaustion dripped from it like ink bleeding into parchment.

Ainz tilted his head slightly, "I prefer to avoid creating a precedent of slave labor if possible. I could create skeletons for the task instead."

Ainz inwardly sighed, 'Edwin looks like he is about to collapse. I need to find a replacement for Defias leader position posthaste.'

The living in this world had a strong aversion to the undead, and that was saying something considering their enthusiasm for bloodshed, war, and political backstabbing. Even hardened criminals, the kind who thought nothing of working captives to death in mines, would recoil at the idea of reanimated corpses or summoned skeletons and zombies swinging a pickaxe next to them.

"If his Imperial Majesty wishes, I will make arrangements to use an undead workforce." Edwin bowed, almost falling face-first into the carpet.

"Good then-" Ainz stopped as a gate once again opened in the throne room, with Onyxia stepping through the void backward and dragging a human boy with her.

'That's the child king of Stormwind,' he recognized the blonde child. Ainz glanced toward Buku, who hastily stopped eating and waved her handmaiden away.

Meanwhile, Onyxia spun on her heel in a perfect, practiced motion, dragging the frightened boy forward with one clawed hand her current form was a mix between a human and a dragon with her eyes now catlike yellow, her hands turned into claws, pair of leathery wings sprouting form her back and her mouth field with rows of sharp teeth. The boy stood straight despite the circumstances and put on a brave face.

Ainz had to admit: impressive. Most adults would be screaming or groveling by now.

"Your Imperial Majesty," Onyxia announced, straightening proudly, her wings twitching slightly. "Varian knew of my true identity. I had to retreat, but I took leverage and promised to send a delegation to open an official diplomatic channel."

Leverage. Right.

Ainz's nonexistent heart gave a metaphorical sigh. This was not how diplomacy was supposed to work. He opened his mouth, prepared to explain why kidnapping foreign royalty was generally frowned upon in negotiations, but Buku got there first.

"Let the boy go," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "The last thing we need is to harm him right now." Buku just let out a resigned sigh, getting used to Onyxia somehow doing the correct thing in a very suboptimal way and kidnapping the Crown Prince of Stormwind.

Onyxia blinked, then shrugged, as if she had simply forgotten she was holding the heir to Stormwind like a sack of grain, "Of course." She released her grip. "Anduin, meet Emperor Ainz Ooal Gown and Empress Buku Ooal Gown."

Anduin adjusted his posture instantly, stepping forward with controlled grace, like he had rehearsed this exact scenario a hundred times in his mind. He placed his hand over his heart and dipped his head slightly enough to show courtesy, not submission. "Prince Anduin Vrynn, heir to the crown of Stormwind. I presume I am being taken as a hostage?"

Buku immediately noticed the faint, flickering shimmer around Anduin's body- a holy shield, weak but present, whispering of his connection to the Light.

'Ah. So, the boy has potential.'

"I think 'guest' would be a more suitable term," Buku said smoothly, her lips curving into a reassuring smile. "We have no intention of hurting you." She glanced at Ainz expectantly. Her husband would know how to resolve this situation.

Then, she noticed a thin red line running across the boy's neck - a minor wound, perhaps from Onyxia's less-than-gentle approach. She casually waved her hand, casting a light healing spell. A golden light pulsed outward, dissolving into the boy's skin like morning sunlight melting away frost.

Anduin's eyes widened as he instinctively pressed a hand to the now-healed spot. His lips parted slightly, whispering, "The light listens to your prayers."

Buku's grin widened. Oh, this was going to be fun.

"Oh no, dear prince," she chuckled, eyes glinting with something between amusement and superiority, "I do not beg the light; I command it."

The boy stiffened, and for the first time since being dragged into this mess, his royal composure cracked. His youthful curiosity won over his wariness. "You command it?" he repeated, awe coloring his voice. "How?"

"I, like my husband, am a Supreme Being," Buku explained, letting the weight of those words settle into the air. "Forces such as light are nothing more than tools at our disposal. We do not plead. We do not kneel. We do not grovel. The light bends to our will, as does the darkness, the elements, and even death itself."

"I see. What will happen to me now?"

"We will bring you back home soon enough," Buku assured him.

Ainz nodded, "Indeed. Onyxia, prepare the dragon guard, Buku and I will go to Stormwind personally to resolve this issue."

At that command, Onyxia bowed her head slightly and grinned—a look that on a human might have been friendly, but on a dragon, bore far too many teeth. "The Wyrms will be ready."

Ainz, meanwhile, tapped his bony fingers against the armrest of his throne, his thoughts running at speeds far surpassing those of a human. For the most of his life, he had no one who cared for him, nor did he care for anyone on a deeper level. But he understood one truth as absolute; all reason goes out when someone you love is in danger.

With the crown prince before him, he knew things would only grow more complicated. Anduin's father, back in Stormwind, already had reasons to march his armies toward Nazarick. If he were in Varian's place, he would not hesitate to raze cities, wage bloody war, or drown the world in conflict if it meant retrieving his son. Nazarick was looking at not only one but two wars simultaneously potentially becoming a global conflict, and if Earth's history had taught him anything, world wars needed to be avoided at all costs.

Ainz sighed internally. Of course, wiping out their enemies was an option, but he had no interest in ruling over ash and ruins devoid of life. Their power was better kept as an unspoken threat- a nuclear arsenal - serving as a deterrent more than a means to an end.

It reminded him of an old-world power from long before the technological marvels of the 22nd century. A nation whose sheer military dominance had kept the world in check without ever needing to fully deploy it. The United States.

Ainz had never been much of a history buff back in his human days. His knowledge of the real world had always revolved around corporate drudgery and escapism into Yggdrasil. But now, standing as the undisputed ruler of an empire, he wished he had studied more about how that old superpower balanced dominance with diplomacy.

They had fleets spanning the globe, nuclear weapons that could turn cities to dust, and the ability to wage war on any enemy without ever setting foot on their soil. And yet, they hadn't always needed to. Just the knowledge of their might had been enough to force nations into uneasy cooperation.

That was what he needed Nazarick to become. An empire so overwhelmingly powerful that war was never an option. 'If I had taken a greater interest in history back then, I might have had a better framework to apply now…' he lamented.

Buku suddenly perked up. Ainz knew that look.

"Oh, I'm coming with you. We are showing off, right?" she announced

Ainz gave a slow, deliberate nod. "Yes, I believe we need to make sure everyone understands how erroneous it would be to fight Nazarick."

He rose from his throne, summoning his staff in one smooth motion.

"Oh, in that case, I'll spice up my look as well." Buku grew more excited. Ainz barely refrained from sighing out loud. She was getting into her roleplaying mindset.

This was going to be a spectacle.

Editing by NabeisWaifu

Proofreading by fvvck, IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, IAM THE STRING CUTTER.

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Chapter 42: Volume 2 - Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The throne room was filled with nervous anticipation. Jaina stood with the mages, their hushed discussions filled with frustration and disbelief. Onyxia had violated Stormwind's sanctum with ease. Stormwind's royal mage, his face pale with barely restrained fury, had arrived moments ago to explain how the castle's magical defenses had been sabotaged from within, allowing the dragon to move through them as if they were nothing more than gauze.

Nearby, the royal physicians and priests were tending to Bolvar. The Highlord's body trembled with barely contained rage, his teeth clenched as he struggled to sit upright, forcing himself to stay conscious. Despite the pain, he kept muttering apologies, his voice hoarse with shame.

"I failed you, Your Majesty," he rasped. "I failed Anduin."

Varian barely acknowledged him. The king of Stormwind paced back and forth like a caged animal, mumbling curses under his breath.

Onyxia had promised a delegation would come, and the minutes ticked by painfully slowly. Anduin was in grave danger, and she had no idea if they would be able to retrieve him.

Then, the air in the throne room shifted. A vortex of swirling void appeared in the middle of the throne room. Varian reacted immediately, instinct overriding reason. With a roar, he lunged forward, sword in hand, only for Bolvar and Windsor to grip his arms in a desperate attempt to hold him back. "Your Majesty, be reasonable!" Bolvar exclaimed.

Varian struggled like a madman, "My son is there!"

"I know, but let them arrive first. If we are to fight them, then you'll need backup." Windsor pleaded, his voice barely keeping the edge of panic at bay.

The void rippled, and figures emerged one after another. Jaina felt her breath hitch. They were identical. Black-haired, all having yellow catlike eyes and forming rows at the sides of the portal, betraying the fact that they likely all were black dragons. All of them, both men and women, dressed in identical grey uniforms with an obsidian crest on their chests

Dragons. Jaina's mind reeled as she counted. Twenty-four dragons in human form. Stormwind's defenders tensed, hands gripping weapons, but no one dared to make the first move. The last to emerge was Onyxia, her every movement dripping with satisfaction. She took her place beside the still-glowing portal and lifted her chin with a smirk. Then, in a voice filled with dark amusement, she announced, "Presenting Emperor Ainz Ooal Gown and Empress Buku Ooal Gown." She announced with glee and knelt as the portal shimmered with the rest of the dragons dropping on one knee as well.

Jaina had already known that this was a demonstration of power, but she hadn't anticipated just how overwhelming it would be.

And then, they arrived. The portal pulsed like the heartbeat of some eldritch beast, and through its swirling void stepped a figure bathed in fire and shadow. The woman was clad in full-body black plate armor, the obsidian metal absorbing the light and making her presence seem all the more commanding. Scarlet-red accents lined the engravings, a spiked obsidian crown sitting on her raven black hair with a shining halo of light just above it. In her hands, she wielded a flamberge wreathed in ethereal flame, the jagged, undulating blade casting flickering reflections along the polished marble floor.

Jaina's breath hitched. A large pair of wings made from pure light extended from her back, partly folded but still enormous enough to nearly scrape the high ceilings. They radiated a brilliance that could have belonged to an angelic being.

Beside her stood death incarnate, clad black robes made of midnight itself, his massive shoulder pads- a common vanity among casters often used as decoration. But the most striking thing was his bare chest. Where flesh should have been, there was only pristine bone, each rib perfectly symmetrical, white as polished marble. But deep within the cage of his skeletal form, an ominous dark-red orb pulsed with unnatural energy, its glow like the last dying embers of an apocalyptic fire. His empty eye sockets were burning with a fiery red glow. In his right hand, he held an artifact-level golden staff that looked like a pole with seven snakes weaved around it and with each gem of a different color stuck in their mouths.

Behind them, a small figure hesitated at the edge of the portal. Anduin stepped through cautiously. Ainz gently extended a skeletal hand and gave him a gentle push forward, "Go rejoin your father."

Anduin didn't need to be told twice. He darted forward, running to Varian and clinging to his father's chest plate.

"First off, let me apologize for my servant using the crown prince as leverage. I assure you, no harm came to the young prince while in our care." Ainz spoke in a deep, regal tone, the flames in his eyes dancing.

"Nazarick has no desire to start a war with the Alliance, and I hope we can resolve our differences today and be civil neighbors," he added.

Varian's breath was ragged, his hands clenching into fists, his emotions a storm barely held in check. Then he raised his sword, pointing it directly at Ainz.

"You let your beast infest my home, you send your orcs into my lands, and you talk of peace!"

For the first time, Ainz let out a quiet chuckle. "You misunderstand, young King. I didn't come to beg for peace." Then, the air itself changed. Ainz did nothing but exist, and yet the entire room plunged into suffocating dread. The flames in his eye sockets flared, and a thick, oppressive aura descended upon the throne room like a falling guillotine. "I came to tell you that it is in your best interests to seek good relations with Nazarick." Ainz continued

Jaina choked. Her breath caught in her throat, her lungs refusing to function as pure, unfiltered terror sank its claws into her. She had faced the horrors of the Third War. She had never felt such an overwhelming, all-consuming dread. Not even when she stared at a five-meter-tall pit-lord in the eye as the four-legged demon swung his tree-sized weapon at her. She dropped to her knees, trembling like a leaf in the wind.

She was not alone. Throughout the chamber, seasoned warriors and powerful magi alike fell, their bodies betraying them, their wills shattered under the weight of Ainz's presence. Even Krasus, a being whose true nature was far mightier than his human visage let on, gritted his teeth, his hands curled into trembling fists. Only Varian remained defiant. He took a single step back—just one. But it was enough. The hesitation, however slight, did not go unnoticed.

Ainz saw it. Buku chose that moment to step forward, her presence like a flicker of warmth against the cold abyss Ainz had unleashed. Though her voice was softer than her husband's, it carried no less authority.

"We do not want to be your enemies, but do not mistake our desire for peace for a weakness. We took over Blackrock with all its issues, and we are solving them one at a time. Removing Onyxia from Stormwind was a worse option than letting her govern the nation and prepare for her departure gradually. We cannot simply return Redridge at the moment, our people need food. However, we are willing to negotiate and open a new page in world politics, but we will not do it at the expense of our subjects."

Her words hung in the air, a bridge of diplomacy amidst the suffocating power Ainz had displayed. Krasus, despite the lingering effects of the aura, did not back down. His blue eyes, barely veiled by his human form, glistened with restrained fury.

"You must be aware of the crimes your people have committed. Black dragons are genocidal and corrupted to the core, even if you keep them shackled. The horrors of the First and Second wars, caused by orcs, are still fresh in the memories of the people. Unlike the orcs of the horde, the orcs you command never atoned for their crimes. Tell us, Ainz Ooal Gown, can you reform them?"

Ainz looked at the brash mage, sensing something peculiar. With dragons constantly surrounding him, he could feel the subtle energies of their kind even through their visages, even though this one was slightly different than his servants. He cancelled his aura of dread and spoke among the signs of relief. "You must be the red dragon Onyxia spoke about. I have learnt the history of this world and what orcs did to your kind. Tell me your name. Do you represent red dragons here?"

Krasus hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "Korialstrasz, "he answered, seeing no point in hiding his identity any longer.

From Ainz's side, Onyxia chuckled, "Dragon queen's consort. A valuable target." Onyxia spoke up.

"We are not here to take captives." Buku waved her off. "Then you must know that I removed the corruption from all black dragons in our service. They do not serve the old gods anymore and are aligned with our goal to preserve and protect this world.

"What do you mean, remove the corruption? Such a feat…only the titans themselves could possibly do it. If what you claim is true then…what are you!?" Krasus' composure broke, animatedly asking for explanations as he could not deny that these two mysterious entities had full control over all the black dragons present in the room. He had not interacted with Onyxia a lot but he knew the dragoness was arrogant enough to talk back the her imposing father and now she was kneeling and showing absolute submission to Ainz and Buku.

The rest of the room looked at the red dragon in confusion. "What old gods?" Jaina asked, her brows furrowed. It was the first time she had even heard of such a term, and by the reactions of others, she was not the only one.

Krasus turned to her, her expression grim. "Ancient horrors the titans subdued when they ordered our world. They lie dormant in their eternal prisons. Their influence, unfortunately, is still felt and the Earth Warden Neltharion, better known as Deathwing was first to fall to their corruption, affecting the rest of his flight."

"Not anymore," Buku said, her voice carrying an air of finality. "I told you, I cleansed them. My husband and I are known as the Supreme Beings and we hail from another reality. We have made this world our home and thus it is our goal to protect it. Make no mistake, if we wanted you dead, either of us could level this city in an instant. We seek peace, progress, and cooperation. If need be, we will rule this world. But we are content with mortals governing themselves - so long as they do so competently. Blackrock and its surrounding areas are our domain; so are its people."

She might have painted her and Ainz in a much more benevolent light than they were but most of what she said was true.

Jaina, quick to seize the opportunity, lifted her chin, "I propose a gathering of world leaders to discuss the emergence of the Nazarick Empire. I will host the meeting in Theramore as it is neutral grounds. Master Krasus, would you be able to join and speak for Dragons?" she proposed.

"I would." Krasus nodded, regaining a semblance of his usual composure.

"Remove all your agents from Stormwind and cease attacks in Redridge. Then, I will consider it." Varian demanded.

"Very well. A point of note - gnolls are not under our command. They cause us as much trouble as they do the Alliance. Since you have requested it, we will also cease gnoll extermination raids. All of our agents will leave the city within the hour. We will join the talks in Theramore under your terms, Jaina Proudmoore." Ainz agreed. The human king's demand was very reasonable and he had no qualms about fulfilling it. He was also intrigued by Jaina Proudmore and her offer, which, if working, could make Theramore neutral ground for world leaders to meet and communicate, akin to Switzerland back on Earth during European wars.

"Then it is settled. The Kirin Tor will join as well." Rhonin spoke at last, "I think it is time we set our differences aside and let the world heal after all the horrors of war."

"In that case. I will expect a messenger from Theramore." Ainz nodded and, together with Buku, departed. The dragons rose in unison and, with Onyxia in lead, disappeared through the portal as well, closing it the moment the last dragon disappeared from view.

The crisis was averted for now. Would peace last? That was harder to answer. But there was hope, and Jaina was not about to let the opportunity pass. All major world powers would get the invitation, Horde included, and she had a lot of preparations to make.

She turned to see Anduin still clinging to his father, relief evident in the way the boy buried his face in Varian's chest plate. Varian's anger would not be so easily soothed, but for now, he at least saw reason, and she couldn't help but smile seeing the happiness of Anduin as he clung to his father. She smiled softly. No child should grow up without parents, royalty included.

Editing by NabeisWaifu

Proofreading by fvvck, IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, IAM THE STRING CUTTER.

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Chapter 43: Volume 2 - Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Lately, he had been spending less and less time in his natural form. Korialstrasz flapped his wings, moving at speeds that blurred the world below into mere streaks of green and blue. The island sanctuary of the red dragons loomed ahead, bathed in the amber glow of the setting sun. It had been their refuge since the Dragon Isles were lost to time and catastrophe, ever since the sundering reshaped the world ten millennia ago. But for him, this place was more than a sanctuary, it was where his beloved awaited for him.

For decades now, he had lived as Krasus, the high-elven magus of the Kirin Tor, walking among mortals, shaping their fate to his will from behind veils of secrecy. He had become more accustomed to the hushed corridors of Dalaran than the open skies that once felt like home, for so long he had lived in those cramped halls. But no matter how much time he spent among them, he was, and always would be the last living consort of the Dragon Queen Alexstrasza, The Life-Binder.

The mortal races had faced strife nearly unmatched in history, the echoes of which reminded him of the Burning Legion's first invasion. He had joined the Kirin Tor, not out of curiosity for magic or a sense of duty to Dalaran, but out of desperation. When the Dragonmaw clan enslaved his beloved and all her consorts, he alone had been spared—too young, too unknown for them to bother with. He had spent years searching for a way to free her, but in the end, it had been mortals who shattered the Demon Soul and ended their torment.

The memory of that battle was etched into his very soul. Deathwing had descended upon them in an attempt to steal the red dragon eggs for his own twisted purposes. The ensuing clash had been cataclysmic. His fellow consorts had perished one by one. Tyranastrasz, his mentor and Alexstrasza's first consort, had shielded him from a blow meant to obliterate him, his final words still an open wound in Korialstrasz's mind: Live. She needs you.

And so, he had lived. The Demon Soul, that accursed artifact of Deathwing's creation, had been destroyed, thanks to a single enchanted scale ripped from Deathwing's hide, and the world had been spared the black wyrm's dominion… for some time. Yet, in the quiet moments, when he was alone with his thoughts, survivor's guilt clawed at him, as it always did. His queen had vowed never to take another consort. The pain of losing them all had been too much, and she had confided in him once, in the stillness of night, that if he were to fall, she would become truly alone in this world.

Korialstrasz flared his wings, dispelling those thoughts as he neared the island's heart. Red dragon patrols in the skies recognized him and gave way without a question, welcoming him back. He was expected. He was home.

The plateau in the island's center came into view, its lush greenery starkly contrasted against the rugged gray cliffs. This was where she awaited. His heart pounded with anticipation. To see her again, to bask in the warmth of her presence, to feel her gentle, loving touch; he yearned for it more than he cared to admit.

He touched down gracefully, talons pressing into the soft grass before shifting seamlessly into his elven form. A tall, regal figure now clad in red and gold robes, his long silver hair tied neatly behind his shoulders, he strode towards the garden.

Alexstrasza knelt among her flowers, her hands delicately removing stubborn weeds one by one, her golden eyes fixated on a particularly prickly plant as if contemplating its very existence. Even in the simplest of tasks, she was mesmerizing. Her armor, crafted from the scales of her own children, gifts of devotion and reverence, glowed in the sunlight. Crimson and gold adorned her gorgeous form, her mighty curved horns crowned with delicate rings of precious metal and gemstones. She was every bit the queen of dragons, and yet, at that moment, she was simply a woman tending to her garden.

Beside her stood Merithra, daughter of Ysera, a vision of the Emerald Dream in mortal guise. She wore robes woven from soft grass and was adorned with twigs and flowers, her green hair cascading like fine vines, her glowing eyes reflecting the ancient wisdom of her lineage. One of the rare few to bear horns in her night elven visage, she exuded an aura of tranquillity, though Korialstrasz had long since learned that the green dragons, despite their ethereal serenity, possessed a mischievous streak rivaled only by the blues. Even he had fallen for their mischief on the occasion.

"Mother isn't waking up and neither are her consorts! You have to help me!" Merithra pleaded, her voice carrying the weight of an anxious daughter forced to watch a nightmare unfold with no means to rouse those trapped within it.

Alexstrasza, however, remained composed, her gloved, ruby-red fingers delicately shooing away a bug that had been feasting on the leaves of a dragon teeth plant. The little creature buzzed in protest before lazily flitting away to find a less-defended meal.

Alexstrasza had always been that way. Unwavering in her love for all life, she wouldn't kill even a bug that disturbed her garden. Were Deathwing himself reborn as a particularly unfortunate beetle, she might still hesitate to crush him underfoot despite his sins. She could only justify taking life when said life was against natural order or a great threat to life itself.

She finally turned her gaze back to Merithra, her golden eyes filled with understanding, yet bound by the immutable reality of her own limitations. "I will do what I can. But dreams are not my domain. If my sister has chosen to sleep, there isn't much I can do to wake her." Her voice was gentle like a mother consoling a child over a wound that would not heal.

Before Merithra could protest, the measured footsteps of another presence broke the moment. "My Queen, Merithra," Korialstrasz greeted as he approached. He inclined his head, a gesture of reverence that belonged to a consort rather than a subject. Alexstrasza rose to her feet, her movements fluid and effortless, and embraced him, holding him close. The scent of sunlit fields and dragonfire lingered on her skin, a fragrance he had never quite been able to describe but one that had long since rooted itself in his memories.

Her lips brushed against his in a kiss-sweet, tender, fleeting moment. Korialstrasz had long preferred his elven form for such moments, as the sturdy, scaled forms of their true nature did not lend themselves to such gentle caresses.

When she finally pulled away, she whispered, "I missed you so much,".

"And I missed you more than words can express." His voice was lower now, softer. He longed to hold her for longer, but to continue such intimacies before a guest, even one as patient as Merithra, would be unbecoming of them. He reluctantly let her go, stepping aside.

An awkward silence settled in, the kind that comes when love met propriety in a three-person conversation. Merithra, in an effort to break the awkwardness, cleared her throat, "What news do you bring of the Eastern Kingdoms?"

Korialstrasz exhaled before responding, his expression darkening ever so slightly. "Much."

And so, he told them. Of the Nazarick Empire. Of its enigmatic rulers. Of the impossible feats they had achieved, not through the slow toil of conquest, but with an effortless precision that left no room for resistance of those nearby. He recounted the tales of their supreme beings, enigmatic figures who wielded dominion with an authority that should not belong to mortals.

The dragons had always known patience, even the dangerous black ones. They had lived long enough to see numerous mortal empires rise and fall like the tides. But this? This was not the work of time or fate. It was something else entirely. These events were now the business of all dragons, regardless of color. The world had grown even less manageable, and change was afoot.

When he finished, the wind stirred the leaves in the garden, filling the silence with whispers, seemingly of times of the future.

Alexstrasza's expression remained unreadable, though there was a flicker of doubt behind her golden eyes. "Are you certain they were not lying? You know how deceptive the black dragons are."

It was a reasonable suspicion. The corruption of the old gods was considered basically permanent, unremovable by even the strongest of magics. The black dragons had long been synonymous with treachery, their very essence steeped in deceit to the core. To hear that they had not only been 'cleansed' of their corruption but had willingly pledged themselves to a foreign empire? That was beyond implausible, it was practically outright heresy against the natural order.

Merithra folded her arms, her green brows furrowing. "And this forest they created," she mused, her voice carrying a note of unease. "I didn't feel its addition to nature. Something about it… is off. Something unnatural."

Korialstrasz let out a slow breath before replying, "Perhaps. But I can attest to their power." His fingers clenched slightly as he recalled the sensation. "They almost forced me to my knees with their presence alone. It was like standing in the presence of a weight upon the soul."

Alexstrasza's lips pressed into a thin line.

Korialstrasz continued, his voice growing firm, "These two entities are not to be taken lightly, if for no other reason than that they have forced the entirety of the black dragons into their service."

A silence followed, heavier than before.

The very idea of black dragons bowing to anything other than their own ambitions was absurd to everyone, from the youngest offspring to the oldest elders. The black flight did not serve, they manipulated, they schemed, they ruled through shadow and claw. And yet, the Nazarick Empire had done what no one had accomplished, putting them under the heel.

Alexstrasza exhaled, crossing her arms as she glanced toward the distant horizon, where the sun was beginning to dip below the waves. "Then this is no longer just a matter for mortals," she murmured, half to herself. "It is a matter for all dragonkind."

"Indeed. They need to be monitored and if necessary, decisive actions must be taken. We cannot blindly believe them to be the protectors of Azeroth. They are not titans. They are something else. Something new and unknown." Her gaze darkened. "I fear the mortal races might be the first to pay the price for their ignorance."

A breeze rustled through the garden, carrying with it the distant playful roars of young dragons soaring above the cliffs of the unnamed isle, ignorant of the things being discussed and the things to come.

She turned her piercing golden gaze toward Merithra. "Could you employ the Cenarion Circle to investigate this forest Ainz Ooal Gown has created? Korialstrasz and I will attend the meeting of the leaders of mortals to learn more about them."

Merithra exhaled, considering the weight of the request. "I will find out what I can," she conceded. "But you must help me figure out what is happening with mother and the Emerald Dream. No one is waking up, including the druids of Cenarion Circle. It is as if an unnatural slumber has fallen upon them."

Alexstrasza placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I will do what I can and try to contact my sister directly once I sense her presence. Be patient, we'll get to the bottom of this."

Merithra nodded, though the furrow in her brow did not ease. "Very well. Then I shall have druids infiltrate Nazarick and report their findings. As a neutral organization, they should be able to settle within this new forest without raising suspicion, they come and go as they please."

With those final words, Merithra shifted to her true form. Her body expanded, twisting and growing into an immense emerald dragon, her wings unfurling like the blooming petals of a great, ancient flower. The sunlight shimmered off her verdant scales, casting a dappled reflection on the ground below. She was not as large as Alexstrasza, but her presence was no less powerful. With a single powerful beat of her wings, she ascended into the sky, sending a gust of wind rolling through the garden, causing the dragonteeth plants to sway in protest.

Korialstrasz watched her go before shifting his attention back to his wife. "I should re-"

He never got to finish the sentence.

Alexstrasza silenced him with a sudden, possessive kiss, cupping his face with hands that were at once gentle and firm.

"You're not going anywhere yet." She mumbled against his lips, her breath warm as she pulled him in.

Korialstrasz barely had time to react before she kissed him again, this time with a hunger that betrayed just how much she had truly missed him. It was a claim, an unspoken demand that he would be hers for this night, and hers alone. "You can be Krasus tomorrow," she whispered, her fingers trailing along his jawline, "Tonight, I need my husband."

There was something undeniably intoxicating about her presence, a force of nature wrapped in the body of a queen.

"You should take new-" he tried again.

"Shush. Not a word more. You are the last and will remain as such."

Her voice was a command as absolute as a decree from the Titans themselves. Korialstrasz smirked slightly, though any protest he might have had was swiftly erased as she further deepened the kiss. On most days, he would have been able to resist. Most days, duty outweighed desire. But tonight? Tonight was different. The distance between them had been too long, the yearning too great, and it was time to rejoice.

A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest. "In that case, I suppose I can stay a while longer."

She leaned in closer, her breath warm against his ear. "Oh, you will stay."

He allowed himself to be guided back onto the soft grass, his body sinking into the earth as she and the flowers straddled him.

"In that case," he murmured, his hands settling on her hips, "Perhaps we should work on making another clutch."

A low, pleased growl rumbled in her throat, the sound distinctly draconic, "That," she whispered, "is exactly what I wanted to hear."

<X>

Buku leaned back in her chair, exhaling slowly as she warily eyed the mountain of documents before her. The folder was thick enough to double as a bludgeon, its edges worn from constant handling, and she swore she could still feel the residual heat of feverish, sleepless labor radiating off the pages.

Four hundred pages.

On one hand, she had to appreciate the sheer audacity of a fifteen-year-old handing her a complete dissertation on reorganizing the Defias Brotherhood into a fully functional intelligence agency, comprehensive and detailed to bot. A rebranding really - Nazarick's Central Intelligence - with multiple subsidiary organizations, all interconnected like the threads of a vast, clandestine web through both legal, illegal, and gray ways. The lesser elements of Defias would remain as independent crime cartels, their chaotic nature turned into an asset, a tool to destabilize enemy forces from within, the more important elements would become even further consolidated, centralized, and controlled.

The plan was brilliant. Ruthless. Efficient.

And the girl standing before her, barely upright, had clearly given everything she had to craft it, so much so that she could barely keep her posture.

Vanessa VanCleef looked like death barely warmed over. Dark rings encircled her sunken eyes, her skin pale with the unmistakable waxy sheen of sheer exhaustion, and her crimson hair, usually tied in a neat ponytail, hung loose and tangled over her shoulders. Her hands, trembling from strain, were dotted with ink stains and raw sores, her fingers stiff from gripping a quill for days on end, striving to do her best.

Buku tilted her head, her expression unreadable as she studied the young girl, pondering. There was no question about it. The girl, despite her young age, was a genius. A prodigy. A child who had been forced to grow up too fast in the ruthless underbelly of Azeroth, learning what had to be learned in order to survive. She had absorbed knowledge like a sponge, mastering alchemy, politics, espionage, and sabotage before most noble brats even learned how to wield a dining knife properly.

In time, she could be molded into the perfect spymaster. But that was the problem. Time.

It would take a decade to shape her into someone truly fit to helm an operation like this, a decade that Nazarick didn't have, considering the numerous forces present in this world.

Buku let out a soft sigh, tapping her fingers against the folder. "I think you already know what I'm going to say, so let's get the obvious out of the way." Her voice was steady, measured tone using her natural speaking voice. There was no sharpness, no dismissal. She knew the kind of damage careless words could inflict, especially on someone so young, having seen it throughout her former career. A poorly handled rejection now could fester into resentment that might never be undone.

Vanessa swallowed hard, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "I know I am too young." Her voice wavered, not with uncertainty, but desperation. The icy composure she usually carried, the façade of the hardened revolutionary, cracked just a little. For the first time in their conversation, Buku saw not the would-be spymaster, but the young girl left scrambling to hold onto the one thing that gave her purpose, hoping for the best. "I have been trained for this my entire life," Vanessa continued, her words coming out in a rush. "I know how to command. I know how to run an organization. I know how to plan operations. I can do this. Please do not take this away from me. This is my one chance."

Buku held her gaze, staring at the girl.

There was something deeply tragic about Vanessa's plea. The girl wasn't just asking for a job. She was asking for an identity. A reason to keep going.

"Vanessa, it's not that I want to shove you into some menial position. I see how talented and dedicated you are. You have a great future within Nazarick, no matter what. Neither Ainz nor I want to waste your potential.." She placed a heavy hand on the thick stack of documents. "But we are talking about the position of spymaster."

She let the words sink in.

"Your proposal is a great blueprint, there's no doubt about that. But that's all it is. A blueprint. Plans on paper are one thing, but executing them in the real world is a different beast. And for that, you need experience. Experience that, frankly, do not have yet." Buku was as gentle as possible while turning her down.

Buku watched as Vanessa's face twisted, her hands curling into tight fists. The girl shut her eyes, her shoulders trembling with barely restrained anger that overwhelmed even her exhaustion. "I can do it!" She hissed. And then, with an edge of resentment that she clearly couldn't hold back, she added, "Please don't give that position to a dragon. They already do everything important!"

Buku's eyebrow twitched. "First off," she snapped, "we don't have a dragon to put in as spymaster!" She threw her hands up. "If you haven't noticed, we're lacking competent subordinates! If we had someone suiting, do you really think we'd even be having this conversation?"

Vanessa flinched at the outburst, but Buku wasn't finished.

"Second," Buku's tone grew harsher. "Don't think you can guilt me into giving you what you want. That kind of emotional manipulation might work on lesser leaders, but I see right through it." Her crimson eyes locked onto Vanessa's with an intensity that made the girl visibly shrink before her. "And that, right there, is exactly why you're not ready. You are ambitious - too ambitious. And you let your emotions rule you. That is dangerous in a position like this."

Vanessa looked away, her lip quivering, but Buku's voice softened just a fraction. "Being the spymaster of Nazarick isn't your birthright."

The words hit Vanessa like a physical blow by a dragon, ripping her mentally to shreds. Her fists loosened, her anger melting into something more fragile. Fear.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her lips trembled as she tried to keep her composure. "I didn't mean to offend you."

But the damage was done.

Buku sighed. She had no desire to break the girl's spirit, she had enough to deal with without a sullen, bitter Vanessa on her hands, but she wasn't going to coddle her either.

She rubbed her temples. Leadership wasn't nearly as fun as she'd imagined, and at times like this, she really wished she could've taken the easy route: sitting pretty as the imperial consort, her only duty being to look good and keep her husband happy.

Instead, she was here, arguing with a fifteen-year-old over spy networks.

Buku pinched the bridge of her nose, glancing at the four-hundred-page monstrosity on her desk. With a groan, she contacted Ainz

{ Short version: Vanessa's trying to talk me into making her Nazarick's spymaster. She put together a ridiculously detailed plan - like, scary detailed - but she's fifteen, and I don't think she's ready. Now she's about two seconds away from having an existential crisis. Thoughts? }

There was a long silence.

{ Losing her would be bad. } Ainz's voice came through. He wasn't giving anything for her to latch on.

She rolled her eyes.{ No shit. Better tell me what to do with her. I think I'm one line away from creating a slasher villain with poisoning as a hobby who's primed to run off and murder every dragon we have. She fears losing to the dragons, enough that if I continue saying no, she will probably go insane and have to be put down. }

She could almost hear Ainz rubbing his skeletal chin from beyond the mental veil. { If her proposal is as good as you say, then she is more or less ready for the position and would only require some guidance. Perhaps we can make a tutoring team for her and allow her to hold the formal title while she is brought up to speed. I doubt we'll just find someone as competent as her anytime soon. }

Buku hummed in approval, her mood lifting slightly. For once, Ainz hadn't gone into his usual overthinking spiral, breaking things down into pointless subcategories before inevitably circling back to the obvious conclusion. { You know, that might actually work… and we could make her feel indebted to us in the process. Keeps her loyal, keeps her sharp. So we need Onyxia or Nefarian for politics and some orcs and trolls for field duty training. }

Ainz didn't hesitate. { You can take Onyxia. Nefarian is busy with administration and research. }

{ Sure. She'll do just fine. }

Decision made.

Buku let out a breath and turned her gaze back to Vanessa, who still stood stiffly before her, appearing about two steps away from either fainting or dropping dead from sheer exhaustion. 'Damn, this girl really worked herself half to death for this.' The tremors in her fingers, the bloodshot eyes, the way she swayed slightly on her feet. Vanessa was burning through her mortality like kindling in a wildfire, all in the sheer desperation to keep who she was.

Like father, like daughter. Stubbornness must run in the bloodline.

Buku drummed her fingers on the desk before finally speaking. "Ainz and I agree to give you a chance," she said, watching Vanessa's exhausted but still sharp eyes widen. "But you will need to prove you are suited to keep the position. We'll assign advisors… you will listen to them, learn from them. This isn't just a title, Vanessa. It's a responsibility."

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Vanessa's legs nearly gave out, and she caught herself just in time, gripping the back of a chair for support, a single moment of unsightly breaking of decorum. Her lips trembled and when she blinked, fresh tears welled at the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over.

"Thank you. I won't disappoint, mistress," she whispered, her voice raw with emotion. She hastily wiped at her eyes, trying and failing to hide the mind-shaking relief washing over her.

Buku sighs, waving a dismissive hand, "Good. Now go get some sleep. I don't want to have to resurrect you because you stupidly worked yourself to death."

Vanessa nodded vigorously, but her body had other ideas. She swayed again, and Buku half-wondered if she was going to pass out right there in her office. She wouldn't blame her. After all, the girl had likely spent several days and nights straight buried in documents.

As Vanessa turned to leave, Buku let her head fall back against the chair, propping her feet up on the desk. She let out a long, weary groan, staring up at the ceiling.

'I surely hope this decision won't bite us in the ass.' she muttered to herself.

Leading Nazarick was becoming more cumbersome by the day and the problems never seemed to stop piling up. It was one thing after another like an endless game of strategy. And now she had a teenage spymaster to deal with.

Perfect.

Editing by NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, fvvck, and aidan_lo.

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Chapter 44: Volume 2 - Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Ainz peered over the crude stone battlements as he observed the eerie scene below. The gnolls impaled on pikes at the base of the fort twitched feebly, their ragged fur matted with splattered blood, their final, agonized wails barely more than gurgling whimpers. The air was thick with the pungent stench of rotting flesh, a putrid cocktail of sweat, decay, and iron that even his undead form seemed to register on some instinctual level.

If he still had a stomach, he suspected it might have turned inside out.

Instead, he merely tilted his head, his deep voice cutting through the oppressive silence. "And this has produced the desired outcome?"

Beside him, Nefarian inclined his head. "Attacks on our fortifications have all but ceased. The dull creatures have redoubled their efforts in raiding human settlements, seeing them as easier prey." his tone was one of detached amusement, grinning.

Ainz let out an internal sigh. Typical. The moment Nazarick agreed to cease hostilities with the Alliance and pull its forces back to permanently held territories, control over the gnoll population had unraveled like a poorly sewn tapestry, shattering within literal hours. Now the Redridge Mountains teemed with the feral beasts, their warbands pillaging and burning unchecked against all neighboring parties, including them.

Ainz glanced back at the newly erected defenses. The fortifications were crude but effective, constructed by numerous natives. Thick stone walls, hastily reinforced with steel rods and great wooden beams, stood against the bloody red grounds. It was a testament to the sheer raw power of Nazarick's workforce; mighty orcs and hulking ogres had raised these fortresses in mere days, relying on brute strength and sheer numbers to get things done.

He stroked his bony chin thoughtfully, "I see. While effective, this method may not align with the image we wish to cultivate. Have we considered… other options? Perhaps the warlocks could raise the gnolls as undead and send them back into their camps as a scare tactic?" Mortals tended to react poorly to necromancy, he knew his past self would have. Something about the unnatural undeath made them squirm. But, compared to the crude barbarity of impaled corpses rotting at the entry points of the Nazarick Empire, it was practically heaven in comparison.

Nefarian exhaled sharply through his nose in a rare display of open frustration, "At best, the warlocks can puppeteer the corpses, but they have no sentience left, nor can their sheer numbers be fully handled. The orcish necromancy is a lot more limited compared to one wielded by you, master, or by the Scourge. I have spent years attempting to unlock the secrets of the Frozen Throne, yet the cultists who worship the Lich King remain infuriatingly tight-lipped. I can create bone golems, but that's about it, and many of my peers would fare no better."

For a moment, Ainz tapped his chin and leaned forward in thought. Then, within seconds, he released a wave of his Aura of Despair. The effect was immediate. The gnolls still lingering on the pikes gave one final, pitiful shudder before collapsing into true death, silence enveloping the area. The very air seemed to tighten, a hush falling over the scene like the breath before a storm.

Then, in perfect unison, the gnolls twitched, their broken forms stirring, their bones cracking as they lurched upright as one. One by one, they peeled themselves off the pikes and assumed orderly rows, their glassy, lifeless eyes locking onto Ainz, as if awaiting for his command.

Then Nefarian let out a low whistle, his expression unreadable. "You make it look insultingly easy, master."

Ainz merely clasped his hands behind his back. "It is easy."

At least for him.

Truth be told, Ainz hadn't put a lot of thought into how he wielded his magic, as it came naturally to him.

'So if I had to explain what I am doing…' he contemplated back to the process he had executed instinctively. First, he gathered energy. Next, he called the souls back, tethering them once more to their lifeless bodies. A simple task, almost effortless. Then, it struck him. The reason necromancy wasn't widely practiced, even among those who should be able to wield it, wasn't just about skill or knowledge. It was about energy.

Buku had access to a similar pool of power, yet she struggled with magic, especially the more arcane and complicated spells. If that was the case, then the issue was not just understanding how necromancy functioned, but having the right fuel, and enough of it. Most mortals, and even dragons, simply did not possess the pure primordial essence required to override the natural cycle of life and death.

Ainz cast Fly and descended towards the undead gnolls. Nefarian quickly followed as the orc guards watched in silence. Ainz ignored them. With another casual flick of his fingers, he extracted all the necrotic energy from the gnolls. They collapsed instantly, their bodies crumpling like discarded puppets, allowing true silence to inhabit the land.

He did not stop there. The next step he did was to recall their souls, but did not provide any of his innate energy, holding himself back. The souls now stuck in the lifeless bodies radiated agony only he could feel as they lingered between the living world and the Shadowlands, the realm of the afterlife, shrieking in agony.

As Ainz inspected the barrier separating the living and the dead, the realization struck him. The barrier between life and death was not an insurmountable wall. It was a flow. Energy from the living naturally bled into death, the transition seamless, inevitable. It only needed to be reversed… necromancy could reverse that flow. It wasn't just raising the dead, or merely manipulating corpses - it was an inversion of nature itself. And he had done it without thinking whenever he wanted. That, more than anything, intrigued him.

Armed with this revelation, he extended his arm towards one of the gnolls. Instead of his usual necrotic energy, he attempted something new. He inverted the natural energies lingering in the air, reanimating one of the gnolls not with death, but by bending the lingering energies of the living realm itself backward, pushing and pulling it to his will.

The results were… fascinating, to say the least.

The gnoll's body jerked upright, its head lolling at an unnatural angle before snapping forward, its eyes glowing with an eerie, almost sickly green light, something distinct from the cold blue flames of standard undead. For a fleeting moment, Ainz thought he had perfected an alternative method for reanimation, one that could be taught to those who couldn't access the same energies he could.

Then he noticed the ground beneath the gnoll.

The once-healthy grass had blackened, curling inward like dying fingers grasping at the air, threatening to crumble like the ash of a fire before the wind. The soil itself cracked, brittle, and lifeless, spreading outward in a perfect circle, as though the land itself recoiled from the unnatural force, drained of all energies.

Ainz narrowed his eyes, deep in thought.

'This won't do. If this method spreads unchecked, I'll be turning Nazarick's holdings into a barren wasteland. It seems I will have to personally reanimate everything; otherwise, the very land will die.'

He let out a sigh before addressing Nefarian, "I cannot teach others how I create the undead. The source of the power comes from me directly. Any method mortals could use would…" He motioned to the lifeless patch. "...result in this."

"Master…" Nefarian stroked his chin in a clear imitation of Ainz, "...would it be possible to create some sort of batteries with your energies that your servants could use?"

Ainz tilted his head in consideration, "Batteries?" he echoed, his mind already turning over the logistics. The concept itself wasn't foreign. Mana potions, soul crystals, phylacteries, and Scourge necromantic constructs all functioned on similar principles, storing power for later use. But could he bottle his necrotic energy in a way that his subordinates could safely use?

"I will have to look into it, but that might just be the solution we need for on-the-spot reanimation." Ainz nodded.

At that very moment a gate opened in front of him, and one of the dragon guards charged through.

"Report!" Ainz ordered before the wyrm snapped to attention, saluting rigidly, "Those small rats – gnomes and goblins – they fought each other. The laboratories have sustained damage, Sire."

The dragon saluted rigidly, his tone betraying thinly veiled anger. With dragons forbidden from killing Ainz's subjects for perceived small offenses, he clearly was unable to punish the tiny creatures for their offense and destruction.

"Why did they fight?" Ainz inquired.

The dragon's tail lashed in irritation in his half-transformed visage form, though his words remained rigidly formal. "Unknown, Sire. The cause is unclear, but the damage is extensive."

Ainz let out an internal sigh. Of course, it is. He cast a glance toward Nefarian, who was watching the exchange with mild amusement. "Proceed with the plan," he instructed, "And ensure everyone knows to avoid provoking alliance forces."

Without another word, he stepped through the gate.

The sight that greeted him was… unfortunate. The laboratory was in ruins. Large sections of the sprawling facility were obliterated. Once a marvel of gnomish ingenuity and goblin recklessness, now lay in smoldering ruin. Jagged metal shards jutted from the walls like shrapnel frozen mid-explosion. Alchemical glassware, once neatly arranged in rows, lay shattered across the floor, their contents hissing and bubbling ominously. Sparks flickered from exposed wiring, and the acrid scent of burnt oil and ozone clung thick in the air.

And the bodies. Not corpses, thankfully, but the aftermath of the conflict was evident in the moaning, battered forms strewn about like discarded dolls. Ainz swept his gaze across the chaos. Gnomes and goblins alike groaned in pain, many clutching missing limbs; though, judging by the cauterized edges, some had been frozen rather than severed, implying magic had been involved.

Others convulsed, their bodies reacting violently to whatever horrors their adversaries had cooked up. One unfortunate goblin lay twitching, his skin a vivid shade of polka-dotted magenta that even Buku would shudder at.

'…I don't even want to know what caused that.'

His gaze landed on the unconscious forms of Icuzz and Krixixx, the respective faction leaders.

Unconscious. Useless.

Ainz sighed internally. Of course, the only two people who could explain this disaster are in no state to answer questions.

The more he observed, the more his irritation grew. He had heard that gnomes and goblins didn't exactly see eye to eye, but he had assumed it was nothing more than professional rivalry, a mutual disdain that resulted in sarcastic jabs and petty sabotage. Not this. This was open hostility. Hostility that he could not tolerate.

And he had nearly lost the entire science branch of Nazarick because of it. A small miracle no one had actually died, he could tell that the bodies on the floor were still alive. Not that death was much of an issue in Nazarick - Buku could simply bring them back - but resurrection had its own consequences.

Some mental scars did not fade so easily, and necromancy could either cement them further or wipe their minds clean.

His red eyes burned brighter as he straightened, his voice carrying a dangerous weight. "Get them healed and gather everyone in the throne room."

The wyrm saluted sharply, already barking orders to nearby troll witch doctors who had just arrived at the scene.

Ainz let his gaze linger on the ruined lab once more. This would not stand. As he turned to leave, the lingering scent of burnt metal and singed goblin hair filled the air.

<X>

The members of both races stood before him, reduced to a shivering mess.

The gnomes, as the newest members of the Empire, appeared moments away from transcending the material world out of sheer fright. The goblins weren't faring much better. Krixixx had collapsed onto the floor in a full-body prostration, mumbling incoherent prayers in a desperate attempt to ward off his impending doom.

Ainz sat upon his throne, drumming his fingers against the armrest with slow, deliberate movements. Each tap echoed ominously through the grand chamber, amplifying the already suffocating atmosphere. The very air felt heavier, as if the room itself was bending under the weight of his presence. After letting them stew in agonizing silence for several long seconds, Ainz finally leaned forward, the crimson glow of his eyes intensifying.

"Icuz, Krixixx, I want this resolved, now." His voice carried the weight of divine judgment. The temperature in the room seemed to plummet. "Why," he continued, his voice slightly rising for maximum intimidation, "are your races at odds with one another?"

Icuz, the gnome in question, swallowed hard. He looked like he wanted to evaporate on the spot. For a moment, it seemed like he had forgotten how words functioned, his lips moving without sound. Then, with great effort, he forced himself to speak, starting off slowly. "Goblins have a… history of stealing inventions from gnomes and one of those…" The gnome paused and took a long breath before continuing. "...goblins tried to steal my son's elemental transmutator!"

Gasps rippled through the gnomes. Even among goblins, there were a few awkward coughs. Krixixx, still pressed against the floor, barely lifted his head before a goblin from his group "helpfully" cut in.

"Borrow! We work for the same master, you pompous, no-good-"

That was as far as he got.

"Enough!"

Ainz didn't raise his voice, yet the single word thundered through the chamber. The goblin who had spoken promptly threw himself into a bow so low his forehead smacked against the stone floor. "I'm sorry, boss! I mean, your Imperial Majesty!" he whimpered, trembling like a leaf caught in a hurricane.

Ainz leaned back and spoke calmly, his anger dissipating as usual, "For Nazarick to flourish, everyone must work together." His glowing red eyes swept across the gathered gnomes and goblins, ensuring they understood the gravity of his words. "It seems I miscalculated by leaving you all without oversight."

Both factions flinched at the word "miscalculated." Ainz was pleased. The idea that he, the Supreme One, had made an error was so unthinkable that they were probably panicking over what the consequences of such a mistake entailed. "I will assign a coordinator to oversee your operations."

He let the words settle before adding, with a sharp edge to his tone, "Until then, there will be clear communication and no conflict. If there are disagreements, you report them. You do not…" he tapped the armrest of his throne, his fingers clicking softly. "...start a gang war. I don't want another such incident. Or else." A collective shudder ran through the gathered group. "Am I clear?"

Icuz, whose face had turned several shades paler, was the first to violently nod. "Perfectly!" he nearly shouted, the others around him hurriedly nodding.

"We'll be on our best behavior, Sire," Krixixx added hastily, still pressed against the floor.

Ainz nodded slowly. "Good."

With that, he dismissed them with a wave of his hand, watching as they scrambled to vacate the throne room at record-breaking speeds, stampeding in mutual terror. Some tripped over their own feet, others over each other, out of sheer fear. Now, the real problem.

Who among his subordinates would make the best coordinator for these troublesome engineers? Someone who could keep order, enforce discipline, and prevent another catastrophe from happening.

There was one option he had yet to explore, as creating high-tier undead was the last resort due to mortals not wanting to be near rotting or skeletal creatures: Demons. The question was, could these creatures be trusted? According to reports, Sylvanas had a demon servant who was highly competent in politics and administration, so they could at least be employed, but trust was another issue.

Ainz pulled out the demon summoning book he had purchased in Orgrimmar and skimmed through the tome. The described demons were considered beyond dangerous and beyond mortal control, but he wasn't a mortal anymore and as of now, he and Buku might have been the strongest entities found on Azeroth, barring the most ancient powerhouses whose power levels were still unknown.

The safest bet for now was to consult Brorg, the leader of the warlock council. If anyone understood demonology, it was him.

The old warlock arrived through a sanctioned portal. Without hesitation, he dropped to one knee and bowed deeply. "You called for me, Sire?"

"Yes." Ainz stood from his throne and handed the summoning tome to the warlock, "Take a look and give me your opinion."

Brorg wasted no time. He accepted the book with a grunt, flipping through the pages with sharp, practiced movements. His eyes narrowed as he skimmed the contents, his thick fingers tracing the demonic sigils with intrigue.

After several long moments, he snapped the tome shut and handed it back. "To control dreadlords and doom guards usually requires a group of warlocks or one exceptionally powerful one, and even then it is basically suicide. I assume your power lets you ensnare such demons easily."

"Controlling them should be a trivial matter for me." Ainz nodded.

Brorg, however, did not share his confidence. The warlock crossed his arms, his tusks jutting slightly as he frowned. "I must warn you, Sire, the demons - dreadlords in particular - are not trustworthy by their very nature. The only way to keep them in line is through enslavement and brute force, and assume that they would try to lie and deceive any chance they get. They have been known to undermine their very summoners, even those who successfully summoned and bound them" The warlock warned.

"Well, that's expected," Ainz mused, fingers tapping lightly against the armrest of his throne.

Demons were notorious for their cunning. The Nathrezim, or dreadlords, in particular, were walking embodiments of duplicity. They had infiltrated the highest echelons of Azeroth's factions, played both sides of wars, and left ruin in their wake, all while keeping their clawed fingers clean. But no matter how devious they were, they were not his equal, a pinnacle of magic.

'Let's see…' Ainz considered the best course of action. "I will start with a dreadlord and a pair of doomguards. Eredar can wait until I have properly tested the lesser demons first."

The Eredar were a completely different beast. They were among the most powerful demons in pretty much all known fronts. Extremely intelligent, masters of magic, and very strong in melee combat. Even Azeroth's most seasoned champions from their most powerful nations required entire teams to bring down a single one of them. In fact, the demon lord who was behind the third war was an Eredar, who had orchestrated the whole thing.

Usually, a demon summoning required a sacrifice - a lot of life force that could be used as fuel for the chaotic fel magics. Fortunately, that was no obstacle for Ainz. Since he could convert his own mana into any form of energy, he simply gathered raw fel and infused it into the spell. Ainz lifted his arm and a neon green magical circle appeared before him. Before proceeding, he activated dimensional lock so demons couldn't escape and then poured the required amount of fel into the ritual, readying every soul-binding spell, curse, and debuff he knew of.

The moment the final sigil burned into place, the floor within the circle liquified and three winged horned creatures crawled through. Two were bulky and red-skinned demons with large straight horns at the sides of their heads, and the last had grey skin and curved horns, in the center.

"What is this?" the dreadlord purred, his voice silken yet tainted with mockery. His wings flared slightly as he took a slow, calculated step forward. "A lich summons us. Tell me… Have you betrayed the Lich King?"

Ainz didn't bother to respond. He simply raised a hand and, in an instant, the enslavement ritual activated. The chains of control lashed out and wrapped around all three demons. They writhed, twisting and snarling as the binding energy sank deep into their very cores, embedding themselves with frightening speed. The doomguards roared, straining against the spell with brute force, but it was futile.

The dreadlord, however, did not fight. He merely chuckled. Ainz could hear it. Low. Amused. Almost intrigued.

"So," the dreadlord murmured, glancing down at the glowing chains encircling his limbs. "you have some skill.." His sharp nails traced the bindings in idle curiosity before his gaze flicked back to Ainz, horns flickering. "Very well, let's see where this goes."

Ainz still ignored him. Instead, he turned to Brorg and his guards. "Brorg, guards, leave the throne room," Ainz ordered, still ignoring the demon.

The very moment the last guard stepped out and the doors clicked shut, Ainz unleashed his aura of despair upon the trio of demons, limiting its range to just the throne room. The oppressive wave rolled over the trio of demons like a tsunami of death itself. Unlike the last time he had used it against mere humans, he held back far less, as befitting the situation. The demons before him were far sturdier, and so he increased the power accordingly, bathing them in fatal amounts of negative energy.

The results were instantaneous.

Hul'Sar, the grey-skinned demon, let out a sharp, guttural gasp, his wings convulsing as he collapsed to his knees. The mighty doomguards, once brimming with unyielding arrogance, followed suit, their hulking frames shuddering as if their very souls were being dragged into hell, straining against the pressure.

"Y-you are not a mere lich!" Hul'Sar choked out, his voice strained, his entire body trembling under the sheer weight of Ainz's presence. His taloned fingers dug into the stone floor in an instinctive attempt to ground himself.

Ainz did not react. He merely watched them, When he finally spoke, his voice was cold, "I am of a race called Supreme Beings. And you have but one choice. Serve me with true loyalty… or be sent back to the twisting Nether."

"Should you attempt to deceive or betray me, I will use your very existence as fuel for my goals." It was not a threat.

It was a fact.

A moment of silence hung in the air, save for the labored breaths of the demons. Then, finally, "I will serve you, master." Hul'Sar, still kneeling, dipped his head in submission. His ever-present smirk had vanished, replaced with solemn obedience. His voice, once filled with sly amusement, now carried an edge of something else. Fear? Respect? Perhaps both.

"My name is Hul'Sar and I am yours to command… for as long as I remain in Azeroth."

Almost immediately, the two doomguards followed suit. "We serve, master." Their guttural voices rumbled in unison, their postures now deeply submissive.

Ainz watched them for a moment, then leaned back into his throne, his expression unreadable. "We shall see." His glowing eyes narrowed slightly. "And what sort of payment do you require?" he inquired.

It would be naive to assume that a demon of all creatures offered service without some expectation of reward.

"Souls of your enemies. We do not require much. Just one or two a year to prolong our presence, master." Hul'Sar rose and smirked again, motioning for the others to stay down.

The way he said 'master' was interesting. It wasn't said begrudgingly, but there was an undeniable undertone of anticipation. Ainz steepled his fingers. "Would raw fel energy work as a substitute?"

Hul'Sar arched an eyebrow, "It does-"

Ainz didn't wait for a full answer and went forward with his experiment, sending a decent amount of fel energy directly to Hul'Sar's core. The demon silently stared back at him, his eyes widening and his smirk replaced with genuine confusion. He had not felt life energy gathered and used as fuel to generate fel. The chaotic magical energies came from the undead directly.

Hul'Sar did not speak immediately. Instead, he stared at Ainz. He appeared… bewildered. "This… this will be enough to keep me present for years." The demon exclaimed.

"Do you still require souls?" Ainz asked.

"Not require, per se," he admitted, his voice regaining its usual suave edge. "But if I am to be rewarded, I would still like to extract them from your enemies - personally,"

Ainz gave the demon a long look, "Then you will get your chance,"

Duplicity was still likely. Of course, it was expected. But for now, until he obtained more dragons to strengthen his forces, demons would suffice.

Now all that remained was to assign the three to vacant positions and train them, and should no complications arise, summon a few more. Everything was proceeding according to plan.

Editing by NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by fvvck, I AM THE STRING CUTTER, IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, and aidan_lo.

Link my discord server (https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2)

Chapter 45: Volume 2 - Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Hul'Sar had not expected any trust from the entities he had been summoned by, and none was given. While he could freely roam through the Blackrock Spire, the chains of demonic enslavement cast upon him ensured his summoner would always know where he was and how much progress he made toward his assigned tasks.

His primary duty as of now was to tutor the mortal Vanessa VanCleef in the art of subterfuge, and to his delight, the girl was a natural. If not for the nearly imperceptible light domination etched in her soul by Empress Buku, she could easily be twisted into an unwitting ally. A lost opportunity, but still entertaining, nonetheless.

Seeing such near-perfect control over someone and having a source to expand his abilities in subtle control and influence was fascinating. Like most dread lords, Hul'Sar knew how to wield light, as this cosmic force only required belief in one's ability to wield it. Thus, he could learn to do the same if he discovered how Buku applied such control. The girl was completely unaware of the control measures that made her fanatically loyal, with a near-compulsion to please her mistress, perking his interest.

Vanessa wouldn't betray Nazarick, no matter what ideas he whispered in her eager-to-learn ear. Then again, at the moment, his task wasn't to undermine the burgeoning empire, only to observe and understand its rulers. And therein laid the problem. Ainz and Buku were unlike anything he had encountered before. These two entities were wholly unknown and, worst of all, incredibly powerful, far exceeding the might of the legion lords like Archimonde and Kil'jaeden, considered the strongest demons he knew.

This meant the pair was more comparable to Eternals of Death realms, like his ultimate master, Sire Denathrius, the origin of all Dread Lords and the ultimate ruler of the Burning Legion, the fallen Titan, Sargeras - a concerning development in its own right.

Considering the difficulty the Legion faced in entering Azeroth, the invasion was now likely impossible if Ainz and Buku were to oppose the cleansing of Azeroth of the reviled Amanthul's influence. He was unaware of why Lord Sargeras hated his former peer with such passion. Still, their desire to enforce order was the main reason the Titans were twisting reality into something unnatural and destroying the balance between all forces.

Those weren't his concerns at the moment though. Now, Hul'Sar needed to subtly shift some of his presence back to the Twisting Nether and report his findings. The demonic enslavement prevented him from fully traveling back to the immaterial realm of raging magics without Ainz's notice, but he could form a lesser fel avatar. Unlike Sylvanas, who had no means to control Varimathras completely, Ainz had his boot firmly on his neck. Thus, Hul'Sar needed to use his wit to the fullest.

Sitting in his chambers by the writing table, he outwardly wrote a plan to infiltrate every level of the Alliance and Horde militaries. At the same time, half of his attention formed a floating fel figure in the legion-controlled world where his direct superior, Drurtakh, awaited.

On the top of a citadel in a half circle stood six dread lords conversing about the latest developments in the world called Jkenvfa by its locals - the latest Titan-tainted world the Legion had found and was now dismantling. Also present was Varimathras, who was likely to coordinate the Azeroth operation with him.

Hul'Sar floated into the circle and made his presence known.

Drurtakh's crimson eyes flickered with faint amusement, though his expression remained impassive. He did not question why Hul'Sar was not fully present - Dread Lords generally trusted that one didn't undermine another. Even if their goals occasionally clashed, common courtesies were to be expected.

"Report." Drurtakh simply said.

"Ainz Ooal Gown and Buku Ooal Gown are far stronger… far more capable than I could have imagined," Hul'Sar admitted, his wings twitching slightly. "They call themselves the Supreme Beings, which might actually be their race. Ainz's mastery over death and fel energies is… concerning. He could easily tear a pathway to the Shadowlands if he so desired or open a gate for a full legion invasion."

"But?" Drurtakh prompted, his stare sharp.

"But Ainz seems too paranoid to be easily manipulated and is well aware of the Legion," Hul'Sar continued. "It appears his goal is to rule over Azeroth, and he has no intention of sharing that rule with anyone besides his beloved wife."

Varimathras scoffed, "I could have told you that from where I'm seated. Do you have anything tangible, or is kissing the backsides of these two all you are good at?"

Hul'Sar did not miss a beat. "I am under full demonic enslavement, unlike you. There is no need to be jealous you are reduced to babysitting Sylvanas while my task is of actual importance."

Varimathras's wings flared slightly, but Drurtakh let out a low growl of irritation before he could respond.

"Bickering will only waste time!" His patience was thinner than a succubus's veil. "Focus, both of you."

Hul'Sar smirked internally. For all their power and cunning, Dread Lords still had egos the size of mountains, him included.

"Of course. The point I am making is that Ainz and Buku are closer to Lord Sargeras than to Lord Kil'jaden in terms of power, and that they are not easy to control fools. It might take decades to guide them in a direction beneficial to us." Hul'Sar reported, his fel ball avatar dimming ever so slightly.

There was a momentary silence from his superior, and then a fel gate opened, emerald flames licking at the edges of reality as something immense stepped through. The temperature in the citadel seemed to rise by several degrees, the air vibrating with the raw, infernal energy of the newcomer.

Kil'jaden had arrived. The red-skinned demon Lord was an imposing figure, standing six meters tall in his most condensed form. His massive, hooved feet struck the stone floor with a deliberate weight. Large leathery wings unfurled behind him, which was uncommon for Eredar. His eyes glowed with fel energy as his face tendrils twitched slightly as he assessed the gathered Dread Lords.

He wore massive shoulder pads, wrist braces, and a codpiece that did little to distract from his muscular frame.

"Exactly how powerful are these two entities, according to your estimate? And how large are these entities?" Kil'jaedan questioned without requiring any formalities – efficiency was paramount.

"Impossible to tell. They are far stronger than you, Lord, that's for sure. As for their size, they are smaller than me. Ainz is about two meters tall in his skeletal form, while Buku is even shorter, though she constantly uses a visage. I cannot tell her natural size, nor her natural appearance."

Kil'Jaeden fell silent, his clawed fingers absently stroking one of his tendrils as he pondered this information.

"This should not be possible." he finally declared, his voice carrying a note of deep suspicion. "If they are indeed so powerful, they could not contain their energies in such small forms. Visage would not be possible for a prolonged time either. Are you absolutely certain they are not using avatar forms as gates?"

Hul'Sar hesitated for the briefest of moments, a flicker of doubt creeping into his mind. It was a fair question. The universe had certain immutable laws. Power of such magnitude had always required a proportional conduit or a vessel. Be they Old Gods or Titans, all adhered to this fundamental truth. None could condense themselves small enough to walk among mortals, the smallest being half-a-kilometer-tall monoliths of raw cosmic power that could be felt for kilometers around. For an entity to have similar levels of power while being no bigger than a dreadlord was unheard of. These supreme beings? They defied logic.

"I did not sense any spatial disturbances that would indicate an avatar, Lord Kil'Jaeden," Hul'Sar finally responded. "But Ainz… the way he manipulates energy – it is as if it materializes from nothing. No cost, no trace of summoning. It simply exists as he wills it."

"From nothing, you say," Kil'jaeden repeated. "Strange indeed. I must report this." The demon lord spoke slowly as he contemplated the revelations. The Titans were the only ones to manipulate energies on such a level in physical reality. Energy had to be drawn, redirected, stolen, or shaped. But this? This suggested something so dangerous that even Sargeras might pause in concern, no wonder Hul'Sar had made the estimate.

Not even five seconds had passed before the already turbulent skies brewed into a fel storm of continental proportions — the air filling with impossible amounts of volatile energies. The gathered Dread Lords felt their wings grow heavy under the sheer oppressive weight of the power descending upon them. Even Kil'jaeden wordlessly lowered himself to one knee.

Hul'Sar instinctively followed suit, lowering his fel avatar to the ashen stone floor of the citadel summit as closely as possible. Above them, the fel storm formed into a humanoid form taller than the citadel on whose top the meeting was commencing. The ruler of the Legion himself was gracing them with his presence. This was a rare occurrence, as Sargeras rarely interacted with anyone besides his closest confidants.

The immense form slowly gained features. Clad in the same armor scheme as Kil'jaeden, he displayed a bare form that looked like cracked, molten metal. His massive wings stretched out, each motion trailing, searing afterimages through sheer power in the air. Jagged, curled horns that appeared large even on his immense form twisted skyward, and a large beard of pure fire, twisting like an inferno, was bound to his jaw.

"Hul'Sar." The fallen titan addressed him directly, the voice booming like thunder through the sky.

Hul'Sar forced himself to remain kneeling, though he could feel his avatar sinking, shuddering and cracking, under the weight of the titan's power.

"You will observe those two. You will learn of them, and until further notice, you will serve them with full loyalty. Their goals will be your goals. Even if they contradict the Legion's."

The gathered Dread Lords exchanged brief glances, though none dared to lift their heads.

"I want to know who they are. I want to know how they condensed their bodies to such a degree and entered Azeroth. I want to know what they intend."

The titan then turned his attention to Kil'jaeden. "You will oversee this mission personally. No one will interfere with his work. No one will hinder this."

Kil'jaeden, to his credit, did not hesitate, agreeing. "As you command, lord." He paused, then carefully added, "What of our other plans for Azeroth?"

"Halt them." Sargeras's tone brooked no argument. "Put all demons present in Azeroth under Hul'Sar's command. Should it be necessary, gift them to Ainz Ooal Gown."

"Master, a proposition. Perhaps Ainz Ooal Gown and Buku Ooal Gown can be persuaded to dismantle titan control of Azeroth on their own and become willing allies to the legion," Kil'jaeden suggested.

"This goal is secondary. If they are open to it, then Hul'Sar can guide them. But finding out who and what they are takes precedence." With that, the vast form of the fallen titan began to lose cohesion and returned to the state of a fel storm, relieving them of the pressure.

The sky returned to its previous, less tumultuous state with the fallen titan's departure. Still filled with fel-saturated winds and red as blood, but not threatening to immediately tear even demons apart.

Kil'jaeden exhaled, turning to Hul'Sar, "See that master's will is done. You have my permission to guide Ainz Ooal Gown in summoning more demons into his service. Archimonde won't mind if an army or two are taken." Kil'jaeden spoke his parting words, disappearing through a gate.

There was no need to linger. Hul'Sar returned his full attention to his physical form. He had a new job, one of extreme importance. And success of the job could propel him directly into Sargeras' court.

<X>

New Titans? Or something else entirely?

For the first time in millennia, Sargeras found himself genuinely intrigued. It was impossible to tell if he had found new allies or a set of enemies that could cause his downfall, and these two entities had arrived in Azeroth of all places. A world where one of, if not the most important, world souls slept, ensnared into an eternal dream by his old enemy Aman'thul.

The oldest of titans, the one who twisted the rest of them into his image, had usurped time through the sleeping entity slowly getting rebuilt into a titan.

Aman'thul, in all his arrogance, thought himself a shepherd, a grand architect ensuring that the universe followed the precise, suffocating pattern he had deemed Order. But in truth? He was nothing more than a parasite, forcefully imposing his perverse harmony upon forces never meant to be chained.

The Titans, by their very nature, were entities of order, but the order itself was but one of the cosmic forces of the realities. To claim that only one of these forces was the true state of reality was laughable. Sargeras himself was a natural embodiment of disorder. His kind didn't have a name, as he was the only one, and if there was another, he could only hope Aman'thul had not found his brethren yet.

Some of the embodiments had names. The void had void lords, and the light had archons, though neither could exist in the physical universe for long and instead resided outside the material realm. In his crusade to liberate the universe back to its natural state, he had found only a few world souls still worth saving.

Returning them to their natural states as he did to himself when he shattered his titan form and became the fallen one, the embodiment of pure disorder, ironically commanding the largest army in existence even if he filled its ranks with beings close to disorder, demons, was still a product of order, his polar opposite.

He loathed Aman'thul for his stolen birthright. He despised his so-called elder brother for what he had done. Like the rest, he was twisted into a being of order while he slept as a world soul, only finding his true nature because it was the polar opposite of his enforced fate. But his vengeance would come. He was assured of it. Reality itself championed his crusade, and nothing could stop him.

Editing by NabeisWaifu, aidan_lo, and Nich L

Proofreading by IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, I AM THE STRING CUTTER, and aidan_lo.

Link my discord server (https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2)

Chapter 46: Volume 2 - Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Ainz stood in the heart of the mountain, where the suspended fortress overlooked the battlefield below. The cavern echoed with the clash of steel and the roars of war. His forces, a coalition of orcs, dragons, trolls, and ogres, fought brutally, forcing the Dark Iron dwarves into a desperate defense for their lives. Around him, the warriors of Blackrock Spire stood tense, their eyes trained on any fool who might dare approach their emperor.

Despite the carnage unfolding below, Ainz's goal wasn't to conquer Shadowforge City — at least, not yet. Nazarick lacked the numbers to occupy it, and ruling a resentful population through fear alone would weaken his empire in the long run, at least for decades or possibly centuries on end, until the new generations could be properly indoctrinated. No, his strategy was less direct yet more effective: force the dwarves into a defensive stance, stripping them of the resources needed for sabotage, and keep them that way. A weakened enemy was a less important enemy.

A large dragon landed beside him, causing the platform to tremble. General Vael'zan, a Black Dragon of middling size for his kind, had once served under Deathwing himself. Though not the largest of his peers, his tactical acumen and centuries of battlefield experience more than made up for it, proving his worth.

"Sire, the troops are in position. At your command, we shall begin the assault," Vael'zan growled, eyes gleaming with hunger.

With all preparations made, Ainz raised his arm, power surging at his fingertips. His voice boomed like thunder through the spacious cavern.

"Vermilion Nova!"

Reality itself seemed to ignite for his enemies. A massive pillar of flame erupted at the heart of the dwarven lines, its sheer heat warping the air. Once-thought impervious golems melted like cheap candle wax as molten metal dripped from their bodies. Dwarves caught in the blast were reduced to ash in a heartbeat, their charred remains dropping into the now barren ground, assuming their ashes were even left. Those on the outskirts howled in agony, their armor glowing red-hot as it fused to their flesh, burning into bone. The heat was so intense that even the orcs standing beside him flinched, the warlocks nearby straining with their barriers.

This one hit was enough to shatter the dark iron defense line, and his forces didn't hesitate to capitalize on it. Warlocks unleashed lesser demons among the stunned enemies en masse . Orc, troll, and ogre warriors leaped onto dragon backs and were carried over the battlefield like a legion of destruction, dropping down onto their enemies from above. The attack was overwhelming.

Within moments, the tunnels lay in ruin. The forces of Nazarick had cut off the entrance to Shadowforge City; the dwarven threat had been all but erased from Blackrock Spire. Yet, Ainz wasn't done. He cast Change Weather above the Searing Gorge. A massive thunderstorm descended from the top of the mountain. This storm was a calculated measure. It would make the dwarves waste their efforts struggling against nature itself while Nefarian secured their borders and crushed any remnants of their influence. Lightning would periodically strike to slaughter or injure key figures to cripple their leadership, and the rain would always intensify just as construction work was close to nearing done to sabotage supports.

Ainz's work here was finished.

Upon returning to his throne room, Ainz found one of his wyrms already waiting for him — a dragon in human guise clad in blackened armor.

"Sire," the beast saluted, "we have… peculiar guests at our border. They request entrance into the Jarnvidr."

"Guests?" Ainz inquired for more information as he sat down on the throne.

"Druids of Cenarion Circle. They claim neutrality, but their allegiance to the Green Dragonflight makes them potential spies. Shall I dispose of them?" The wyrm's lips curled slightly in disdain.

Ainz perked up, 'Druids! That is just what I need!'

He couldn't miss this opportunity. These druids could hold the key to understanding what was wrong with the forest. Even if their true motives were suspect, he did not have to let them anywhere near Nazarick's secrets, the forest would be enough to hold them. A few moments in his presence would be enough to unravel their secrets.

"No," Ainz commanded. "I will speak with them myself."

The dragon nodded and opened a Gate. In a flash, Ainz stepped through.

On the other side, six druids awaited him — four night elves and two tauren, all clad in robes woven from grass and twigs decorated with feathers and flowers. What came as a surprise was that one night elf druid had deer antlers, while a tauren woman had owl feathers growing on her arms.

The moment he appeared, the group tensed up but bowed nonetheless. The antlered elf stepped forward, "We greet your Imperial Majesty. I am Amallath Mosscloud. On behalf of the Cenarion Circle, we humbly request permission to investigate the forest you created and to establish formal diplomatic relations."

Ainz pretended to think about it for a moment. Then he spoke, his voice full of authority, "I am Ainz Ooal Gown; it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He continued, "I will permit your investigation, though I require a full report on your findings. In return, you will train those among my people suitable for druidry."

Amallath's eyes widened in surprise. "You would allow the spread of druidry among your people?"

"With conditions," Ainz replied.

Ainz approached the druid, standing eye to eye with the man. "I have seen worlds whose people destroyed nature in the name of progress, turning their own children into resources to feed the machines. I will not permit such a grim fate for this world. However, the people you train will serve me, not your Circle. I will not tolerate subversion."

Silence hung heavy. Amallath exchanged glances with his fellow druids. Hesitation flickered in their eyes, and there was a noticeable pause before one of the night elves, an older woman with piercing silver eyes, finally spoke. "We will abide by your terms."

Ainz nodded. "Then begin your work."

'These are not spies. I doubt they even care about anything else but nature.' Ainz didn't feel any duplicity from the druids, who appeared genuinely happy at his declaration of wanting to keep his empire and the world balanced with nature. Still, he couldn't be too careful and assume that the green dragons weren't involved, no doubt at the request of the dragon queen, who likely was made aware of him and Nazarick by her consort, Korialstrasz.

<X>

Later that night, Ainz let out a rare sigh of contentment. Buku pressed herself against his chest, her fingers trailing along his jawline.

The hot water lapped against his human form's skin as he relaxed in a luxurious hot tub — the result of the collaborative effort between the gnomes and goblins wanting to appease him after the damage they had caused. The hot tubs were a widespread luxury among goblins, so the blueprints on how to build one were already available, and the only reason they hadn't installed one thus far was a lack of running water given the region's environment.

The gnomes were the ones who built a water purification station with an arcane water displacement unit that pumped tonnes of water a minute directly into the freshly created plumbing system of the Blackrock Spire, significantly increasing sanitation, which was one of the most significant contributors to reducing the bad smell and filth of the inhabitants. He had immediately ordered several more to be constructed to sufficiently cover the immediate region around his headquarters and then some as backups, with more along the way to the rest of his territory if given enough time.

The scent of freshly brewed dwarven ale filled the air, his chilled bottle resting in his hand as he pleasantly sighed.

"Mmm, now this is the life," Buku purred, sipping her drink. The beverage came directly from Kharanos, where one of the most renowned dwarven brewmasters lived. The beer had a strong, biting, bitter taste with a sweet aftertaste, making for a perfect balance that left its consumer craving more.

The skill with which dwarves created alcohol was the main contributor to why half of them were constantly tipsy, which, over generations, had only increased their capabilities as warriors and craftsmen, craving the booze and the skill to make it.

Ainz absentmindedly nodded, his mind still turning over the druid problem. They had informed him that his forest wasn't created in the Emerald Dream and thus would wither away if proper rituals were not performed. The six druids were hard at work making the first pockets of connection, but it would take them years, even with them training the first set of volunteer and high-aptitude trolls as the new generation of druids. Unfortunately, only the trolls were suitable for the druid training among his population, though plenty of candidates were eager to learn once the process was ironed out.

Buku sighed dramatically. "You promised me, Ainz. No thinking about work in our private time." She slid off his lap to face him.

"I know. I'm sorry," he sighed. She was right; he was starting to overwork himself, and their private time together had suffered significantly. He needed more help. Though demons were highly capable, they were untrustworthy. He could not guarantee their loyalty.

"So, what's on your mind?" Buku moved her hand under his chin, gently scratching it.

Ainz admitted. "I just need more help. There are… limitations to what I can do alone."

"Let's get over the current issue so we can concentrate on something more pleasant." Buku pressed, straddling the edge of the tub as a leg overlapped one of his.

Ainz gave a quick rundown of the forest issue.

"You know Mare likely had abilities that could help. Didn't you have a book in your inventory about all of Nazarick's data?"

"I already looked through it, and there are only very vague descriptions of Mare's abilities, nothing on how to learn them. There also was a ritual on creating and recreating NPCs, but it is just as vague," Ainz explained.

Buku smirked, reaching for a towel. "Give me the book; I want to take a look."

He passed it to her, watching as she flipped through it. After a few minutes, she gave it back. "You know, it almost sounds like… I could give birth to them. Or we could create them together more directly by spending energy."

"I have a spell called mental travel; perhaps I could reach Artemel and ask for advice." Ainz stroked his chin.

"Not tonight." She slid back into the water, eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Sit on the edge, darling. I know just the way to make you relax."

Ainz got on the edge of the back tub as his wife licked her lips, her gaze falling on his member. Intimacy was essential to marriage, and he wasn't about to skip out on it.

For now, work could wait.

Editing by NabeisWaifu, Nich L, and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by fvvck, IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, and aidan_lo.

Link my discord server (https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2)

Chapter 47: Volume 2 - Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Buku slept peacefully beside him, her slime form bubbling softly in a calm rhythm. Ainz watched for a moment, ensuring she was truly asleep before turning his attention inward. He had promised to take a proper rest, but his mind refused to settle. There was always something to improve, something to analyze. If he was to rule effectively, he needed every advantage, and tonight, that meant testing Mind Travel.

Leaning back, he cast the spell. At first, nothing seemed different, but then – a shift. His awareness detached, floating free of his body while his physical and magical senses remained intact. He felt weightless, a sensation similar to using VR gear, only he was still distinctly aware of his body. With just a thought, he shot up through the mountain rock until he saw the night sky.

After a slight adjustment, he continued his ascent till he could see the world's curvature, passing over numerous settlements and environments.

'This method of observation is so much better than remote viewing. I'll need to teach this to Buku – maybe it will help with her teleportation.' Despite her considerable power, Buku still struggled with long-range teleportation. The main issue was perception—she couldn't accurately lock onto a destination she hadn't seen before. Perhaps Mind Travel would be the missing piece, and if it could be taught to others, the potential for surveillance would be limitless.

For now, he had another test in mind. Ainz focused on Orgrimmar. Instantly, his vision shifted, and he found himself gazing upon the capital of the Horde. Every detail was perfectly clear, from the flickering torches lining the streets to the distant, guttural laughter of orcs celebrating the night away. The spell worked just as intended.

Then, a more ambitious target entered his thoughts. Earth. Specifically, Itsuki. The world twisted again, and suddenly, Ainz was in a relatively spacious apartment. His brother-in-law lay sprawled on a couch, an unfamiliar woman beside him, lightly snoring away. The room was an absolute mess — empty bottles littered the floor, clothes strewn haphazardly, and sickly, stagnant air filled the space.

'Is he living like this… Wait, are those syringes?' Ainz's attention fell on the small objects lying on the nightstand.

"Itsuki, you piece of shit! This is how you are spending your inheritance?" Ainz roared, but there was no response, no sound. He tried to interact with the environment by imagining a hand and grabbing Itsuki, but his illusory hand didn't touch the man, passing through as if he wasn't there.

'I can only observe…' He concluded as he looked around the house. It was a mess. More bottles and clothing dropped wherever; it was almost as messy as the alleyways. The more Ainz looked, the angrier he got. Was this how his brother-in-law lived with the help of the inheritance he received after he and Buku were remade?

Then, something different. A stark contrast to the filth. A single, pristine room.

Intrigued, Ainz moved inside. At its center stood an altar, the faint glow of two burning candles casting shadows over a framed picture—him and Buku. His skeletal fingers curled as he took in the sight. Beside the frame, a diary lay open.

Ainz hesitated.

It felt wrong to pry, but he had to know. So he read.

'Why did she have to leave me? I see them in my dreams as game characters. Am I going crazy? I failed. I failed. I am a shit brother. I should have died with them.'

The weight of those words settled deep in Ainz's core. His earlier anger dissipated, replaced with regret. He had got it all wrong. Pero wasn't just living a hedonistic lifestyle. He was unable to cope with his sister's death and was numbing himself with drugs and alcohol, as most mortals did.

'Don't worry; we'll get you soon. Just hang in there, ok? We miss you. I could try…'

Ainz attempted to cast a gate to the location, but the spell failed. He tried again. And again. Each time, the spell fizzled into nonexistence. Just to be sure, he tested a few other spells, but every attempt resulted in the same failure, even the most basic of magic.

He could only observe Earth, nothing more.

The realization ate at him, but he forced himself to move on. Lingering here would change nothing. And telling Buku? No. She was better off not knowing. It would only hurt her. If she would learn of it, it would be after they had managed to summon him successfully.

Ainz shifted his focus. Artemel. Imagining the teenage-looking entity that had remade his life for the better. The scene shifted again, and he found himself in a brightly lit game room. Artemel sat cross-legged, immersed in a driving game on an ancient-looking console on a large-screen TV.

Before he could open his mouth, a perfect copy of her stepped out from her body and turned to him with a smile. "Heya, Ainz. Heard your call. Let's fix this."

With a snap of her fingers, Ainz's awareness solidified. He was no longer a mere observer — his full skeletal body now stood before her.

Artemel stretched and motioned for him to follow. As she stepped forward, the room dissolved into golden sand beneath their feet, a sunlit beach stretching endlessly before them.

"I have a few questions." Ainz began.

"I bet you do." Artemel kicked up some sand absentmindedly. "But remember, I won't just solve your problems. That's not how the game works. There's no fun in that."

Ainz could feel the warmth of the sun in his bones. His boots sank into the sand, making walking require mild effort, something he hadn't felt in a while.

Ainz frowned. "Game? Are our lives just a game to you?"

She shrugged, "Everything is a game. But don't look at me like that. I look young because I want to. I am, how you say it, young at heart. I could look like this?" Her form suddenly grew slightly taller, aging into a woman in her mid-twenties. "Besides, I'm not the worst traveler to have you in my games."

She shifted her form again, now looking like a brown-haired, rather unassuming man in a three-piece grey suit. "You could be dealing with my teacher's precisely planned paths or…"

She changed again to a black-haired woman with white horns, yellow catlike eyes, and large skeletal wings on her back. "Deal with the queen herself. You know, you're quite a popular piece among us. Several versions of you exist in our games."

'Looks very familiar. Wait, why does she pick a form that looks almost like the Guardian Overseer Albedo from the original Nazarick?' Ainz could see this so-called queen she referred to looked remarkably similar to one of the Guild Base's NPCs.

'Wait…' Ainz suppressed a shudder. The implications of that were unsettling. Timelines were involved, at a bare minimum.

"But enough of that. Since you are here, I will answer a few questions. But don't think you can barge in whenever. A grown man just dropping in a young girl's room is suspicious, you know." Artemel giggled as she switched back to her youthful default form.

"Right."

"Oh, don't pout. I'm just messing with you. Anyhow, to answer your main question. Creating life is as easy as your Nazarick Instruction Manual describes. You just need clear intent and enough feminine and masculine energy. So you and Buku can do the slow method — let nature take its course — or directly construct the twins at their ideal starting age; high elves grow up the same as humans before their maturity slows down. Everything written in the Nazarick manual is enough information."

Ainz blinked. 'Is it really that easy?'

"So all we need is to perform the ritual together with clear intent and provide the energy?"

"Yes. You can recreate any NPC you want that way. Or empower someone to be the supreme servitor, but you and Buku first need to remove the limiter I put on you. It is also found in the instruction manual," Artemel explained.

"What about-"

"Nope. Not going to explain how to break the reality barrier. Pero stays where he is until you figure it out yourselves. And don't worry; he will be fine for the most part. It's not like he is living on the street." Artemel shot him down.

Ainz decided that he could at least try to get some indirect information. "Why didn't my magic work on Earth?"

"Because only your awareness was there. Magical energies on Earth don't follow the same rules, and you didn't have any mana there in the first place. Just concentrate on what you already have and, spoilers, be ready to meet more of your kind in the future. I have some really entertaining plans. Now off you go."

And just like that, he was back in bed, except in his skeleton form.

Buku slept soundly beside him, unaware of what had just transpired.

Armed with a better understanding, he pulled out the Nazarick instruction manual from his inventory. He needed to reread it until he had the thing's intricacies and implications memorized and understood by heart.

<X>

The sands, driven by the harsh desert winds, were relentless, but the inhospitable Tanaris was the best place to remove their limiters. The closest settlements were tens of kilometers away. Ainz had chosen one of the world's most lifeless and inhospitable areas in case something went wrong. In the worst-case scenario, they would release a tremendous amount of energy, and the entire region would turn to glass.

Buku crossed her arms, slightly miffed at Ainz for using the night to be productive instead of resting as she had asked. "Are we sure this is necessary?" Buku questioned.

"Artemel warned that more of our kind will appear. We cannot afford to be at a disadvantage. Besides, it will take everything we have to create the twins," Ainz reasoned.

"Oh, well. Let's just hope we don't crack the world or something." Buku nodded.

It wasn't the possible side effects of removing the limitations that worried Ainz the most, but what would happen if two supreme beings engaged in an all-out battle? At no point did Artemel clarify that the other supreme beings would be friendly, especially if they were other versions of him, who would be just as paranoid and preparatory as himself.

If they were as truly powerful as Ainz assumed, Azeroth would not survive a clash between two supreme beings. They would be geared to the teeth, their worlds, families, and allies similarly armed to the assumed battle to the death, knowing that no Momonga or Ainz would allow another one of themselves to exist out of sheer caution. Which meant that the time to figure out how to defeat others of his kind without world-ending consequences was now. It was just another problem added to his pile and a big one at that.

He started the ritual by first feeling for the metaphorical chains around their cores. To be safe, he would remove his limiters first.

It was as easy as described in the manual. He just needed to imagine his core expanding and using the growing energy to break the chains, and that he did.

The moment he removed his limiter, he felt a rush of energy as if he had just removed a shirt three sizes too small. With nothing explosive happening, he just as quickly removed the binds restricting Buku's potential as well, maintaining careful observation.

She took a long breath, "Like taking off a straitjacket. Alright. Time to see what I can do. Be ready to teleport me back, darling." Buku stretched and cast Fly on herself. Although she was far from proficient in using magic, she had learned a few spells quite well, flight being one of them. She still surpassed the other natives of this world by leaps and bounds, after all.

"Be careful!" Ainz shouted after Buku as she shot up in the sky with a shockwave.

{ I'm fine. Looks like I can control my energy output as well as before. I just know there's a lot more to use! } She messaged. { See you back home. I'm flying back! }

Ainz sighed; there was no point in arguing with her. He cast a gate and returned home to start preparations for the creation of the twins. They would need a living space and multiple sets of clothing, as their old gear simply didn't exist. Then again, they, including many NPCs, already wore armor made out of dragon scales in their in-game lore, and there were enough shed black dragon scales to make each twin at least twenty sets. As for weapons, Ainz decided he would gift the twins divine tier ones currently in his inventory, a bow for Aura and a staff for Mare. Thus, the creation of reliable allies would begin.

Editing by NabeisWaifu, aidan_lo, and Nich L

Proofreading by IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, Ivan Chechnya, and aidan_lo, fvvck.

Link my discord server (https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2)

Chapter 48: Volume 2 - Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Although Buku was somewhat willing to experience the joys (or madness) of natural childbirth—a rather novel concept for an entity that could rewrite biology itself like a cheat code—she and Ainz had ultimately decided against it. There simply wasn't time to wait a decade for Aura and Mare to mature in a slow, organic way, not with the ever-looming threats this world had.

Time was a luxury their ambition and security couldn't afford, and quite frankly, neither of them was particularly enthusiastic about enduring midnight wailing, tantrums, and endless diaper changing, as both knew they wouldn't just entrust the care of their children to others in such a situation.

Instead, they decided that the twins would be created as eleven-year-olds, the age they had been in YGGDRASIL. High elves in this version of reality matured at roughly the same pace as humans, only to have their aging decelerate once they approached and underwent physical and magic maturity. This made eleven the sweet spot: old enough to properly train, young enough to let them mature naturally.

Of course, this method was "infinitely less fun," as Buku had dryly muttered.

"I'm sure we can make up for it later," Momonga replied.

"Oh, we definitely will." She grinned.

Regarding biological races, most matured at roughly the same pace, though there were amusing exceptions. Orcs, for instance, seemed born to punch things and reached proper adulthood by thirteen. Naga, on the other hand, were notoriously slow, reaching adulthood at five hundred.

The issue now was that it would take all they had to create two new Supreme Beings simultaneously. It was a risky gamble; their usual mountain-crushing power levels would drop to something laughably mortal in those critical moments, weakening them greatly. Should another Supreme Being emerge and challenge them while they were still "recharging," the outcome might be... inconvenient, to say the least. Fortunately, their assumed recovery rate would bring them back to full capacity within days, though the idea of lying low like a recovering mage post-raid left a bitter taste in Ainz's nonexistent mouth.

After extensive preparations in defense and isolation, they had chosen to perform this ritual in complete privacy in their quarters. There was something sacred about this act that transcended game mechanics and delved into a realm older than magic: the act of creation itself. Though no intimacy was physical, it felt more profound than flesh to both of them.

Ainz was using mostly instinctive knowledge, and creating new Supreme Ones felt like a union between him and Buku. He reached out and clasped Buku's warm, human hand in his skeletal one as they started to pour energies through each other.

Energy began to flow like twin rivers, meeting at a godly confluence. Crimson and violet arcs danced across their arms, lighting the room in their pulsing brilliance. Each pulse synced with the beat of Buku's heart—Ainz had no pulse, of course, but his superior magic compensated, weaving its rhythm into the flow. The energy poured out of them and coalesced onto the bed before them, the sheets still pristine and tucked neatly.

Two humanoid shapes began forming in the bed before them, slowly gaining more pronounced features by the second. One shape hovered closer to Ainz, the other to Buku. Mare's outline shimmered first, uncertain and soft, while Aura's silhouette pulsed with a kinetic, vibrant enthusiasm even before she was fully born. Their features slowly emerged like sculptures chiseled from light itself—ears elongated with elegant curves, hair manifesting in trailing waves of gold and emerald. Silk-soft skin wrapped itself around glowing frameworks of incomplete images of muscle and bone, and the room filled with a low hum, a harmonic resonance.

Their incorporeal forms grew bright, humming with so much energy that the entire mountain began to shake around them. Oddly enough, the only thing that didn't move was the bed itself. Then, in an instant of luminescence so bright he felt a brief flash of pain, the twins formed into solid flesh and grew skin and hair, and Ainz felt Buku stagger a bit.

He felt the fatigue as well. The creation of twins had taken everything they had, and even then, both were only at half-strength and would reach their full potential upon adulthood.

Aura was first to take a wheezing breath and arch her back, her eyes opening in shock and confusion, not that he could blame her. The girl was born just a moment ago. Mare opened his eyes a moment later, his breaths more measured as he let out a whimper.

Beside him, Buku swayed, her knees buckling under the weight of immensely spent power. Reflexively, Ainz caught her, cradling her with the care of a battle-worn paladin, barely standing up himself. For the next hour or so, they likely would be weak enough to be killed by their stronger subordinates, including all dragons and most upper echelons. It was a vulnerability they couldn't afford to expose often and a sobering reminder that they weren't invincible. Not always.

But there was another, deeper reason for their restraint. To Ainz, the rest of the guardians were the children and works of his guildmates. To remake them without permission, even now, felt like defiling their trust. Ainz felt they weren't his and Buku's to make. The one exception would be his own creation, Pandora's Actor, but he didn't plan to get another child that soon.

<X>

On the bed, Aura sat up slowly and looked down, finding herself completely nude, and then glanced at her brother, who was in the same state—albeit much less perturbed. They were both still processing reality, if not the awkwardness of their first wardrobe malfunction. She distinctly remembered the end of the world Lord Momonga had talked about, but now she was staring at both Lord Momonga and Lady Buku, feeling a new tether – like she was their child.

Before the silence stretched too long, Ainz reached into his inventory and pulled forth two plain but soft robes. He tossed one to each of them. Aura snatched hers and clumsily scrambled to her feet, wrapping the robe around her like it might shield her from the confusion burning in her chest. "Lord Momonga, Lady-"

"Nope!" Buku interrupted her with a weak voice. "No lord stuff. You are our children, so call us Mom and Dad, got it?"

"Umm…so…" she tried again.

Buku tried to remain composed; her back slumped ever so slightly. "Ainz and I are married, and you are not the same Aura and Mare from Yggdrasil. We birthed you, and you are our children, Supreme Beings, the same as us." She weakly motioned for Ainz to let her sit down. She lowered herself slowly to sit at the edge of the bed, rubbing her temples with one hand as though warding off a headache.

Aura's jaw dropped. Her eyes, bright with gold and swirling arcane light, widened in amazement. "Wait, wait, wait! You are our parents, not just creators? And you're married?"

"Sis, stop screaming. Mom and Dad look very tired." Mare, on the other hand, just accepted everything at face value, looking a little bored. He pushed himself upright, took the robe, and slipped it on with all the urgency of a sleepy forest spirit awoken too early from its nap.

"Well, excuse me for being a bit surprised!" Aura huffed, crossing her arms. The awe she held for Ainz and Buku lingered; she could still feel the reverence towards her creators or, more precisely, parents, but she didn't feel lesser either. As her mother had stated, she was now a Supreme Being, a demigoddess in the making. That was all that mattered.

"They are our children, that's for sure," Buku declared with a fond chuckle, reaching out to ruffle Aura's hair. Her fingers brushed through strands that shimmered like starlight captured in spun gold. Aura made a half-hearted sound of protest but didn't pull away, the touch grounding her mind.

"We should get them up to speed… and inform the tailors and leather workers. Gear doesn't craft itself, even for princes and princesses," Ainz slowly commented as he sat down and mimicked Buku by gently stroking Mare's head; he allowed himself a rare flicker of pride. 'Aura may be Buku's favorite,' he thought, 'but Mare… Mare is mine.' He felt he and the boy were now a lot more similar than he would be with Mare's Yggdrasil counterpart. It was mainly his energy that made the boy the same as Buku's made Aura. Obviously, he would do his best to avoid preferential treatment and would ensure Buku did the same.

"Sure. So where are we?" Aura didn't hesitate to ask, snapping Ainz from his thoughts.

It was Buku who answered. She explained the shift from YGGDRASIL to this new world, brushing over the more intimate details–the slow-burn romance between herself and Ainz. There would be time to reveal that later—no need to overload her offspring with metaphysical tales that would fit right in with soap operas.

Both children listened intently, and once Buku finished, Aura spoke up with a stretch. "Looks like Mare and I already have a lot to do. Might as well start right away."

"Not until you are properly equipped and introduced to everyone. You are not floor guardians but a prince and princess of the Nazarick Empire. Today, you both settle in. Tomorrow, you begin."

Aura groaned dramatically. "But Mom—"

"No buts! Go explore your living spaces and request everything you need." Her tone brokered no argument, with Ainz barely keeping his composure and trying not to laugh at how much Aura resembled her mother. Mare gave his sister a sympathetic look but said nothing. His eyes flicked toward his father, sensing in some primal way that he was expected to be more like him. Silent. Observant. Tactful.

Even before the ritual, one thing had been non-negotiable: Mare would not wear girl clothing. The traumatic weirdness of his YGGDRASIL design was something Ainz never wanted to repeat. Buku had agreed—on the condition that Aura could wear whatever she wanted, even if it leaned toward boyish clothes. That was fine with him.

At Ainz's mental command, servants poured into their private quarters, ready to accommodate the expanded Imperial family. Aura and Mare already had their quarters prepared and their attendants ready to fulfill their every whim, paid well and trained even better. Both got ten whelps, each with visages of children of roughly the same age, boys for Mare and girls for Aura. The best dragon tailors and leather workers were ready to start making clothing and armor sets for the children the moment they got their measurements once they were settled into their rooms.

The last thing Ainz did was give Aura a divine-tier bow, Mare a divine-tier wooden staff, and plenty of protective jewelry for both. With their children ushered to their quarters and the doors closed, he slumped down on the bed, ready to have a deep, relaxing sleep. Buku did the same, curled against him, and mumbled, "We're parents now."

<X>

The obsidian-hued lounge just outside the Imperial bedchambers was shrouded in the thick silence. Nefarian sat with one leg crossed over the other, a picture of grim elegance. His dark, humanoid form—tall and lean like a corrupted highborn elf—wore a tailored black tunic trimmed in fel-gold. His clawed hands toyed lazily with a goblet of fine bloodwine, aged in the shadow of Blackrock Spire and enchanted to taste like the thrill of conquest.

His gaze, sharp as razors, never left the sealed door that separated them from the imperial couple and their newborn heirs. His master, Emperor Ainz Ooal Gown, had ordered the entirety of the Nazarick Empire to be on guard for any intrusions while he and his wife slept after creating the two new Supreme Ones: the Imperial Prince Mare Ooal Gown and Imperial Princess Aura Ooal Gown, the twin heirs of the empire. Even on the day of their birth, their power was undeniable, he had felt the sheer energy through the door and upon first appearance. The twins, who looked like eleven-year-olds, darker-skinned high elves in their natural forms, far surpassed him and Onyxia in terms of raw power alone, albeit still disoriented.

Nefarian had assured the Emperor that his children would be taken care of and appointed the most talented whelps as the attendants of the twins. Simultaneously, he and his sister guarded the master and his wife sitting in the lounge area just outside their bedroom. His master was greatly weakened, and although he couldn't dream of betraying his master, Nefarian understood the emperor's paranoia and wouldn't want to be in such a vulnerable position either. Of course, all black dragons were fiercely loyal to the imperial family. Still, the royals had enough enemies who could have sensed Ainz and Buku's weakness that an assassination attempt could happen, and that was why he was there.

If anyone were foolish and strong enough to be successful in such a heinous endeavor, not that Nefarian believed any force on Azeroth, even the Old Gods, would be, it would leave behind the prince and princess. Their wrath would sweep over the world like a tidal wave, much like the times of old.

"So, how long do you think it will take for Mare to reach adulthood?" Onyxia started the conversation while pulling the cork from a wine bottle and helping herself to a generous serving in her oversized glass.

Nefarian's ears twitched. He tilted his head and turned a slow, withering look toward his sister.

"Do you have a death wish? Or are you just being your usual delusional self?" he deadpanned. "You can't possibly believe you would be capable of carrying the child of a Supreme Being."

He poured himself a matching glass, though with far less flair. He was undead, yes, but of the fourth kind—a perfect undead, like the Emperor. Flesh preserved. Will intact. Capable of indulging in worldly pleasures. Capable of judging others for their choices and doing so with flair.

Onyxia rolled her eyes like a noblewoman hearing a poorly tuned bard. "I need a strong mate. And since your rotten carcass is about as useful as a eunuch succubus, my options are limited. Lord Mare will need consorts anyway once he matures. I highly doubt the empress will permit her children to mate with each other, given it is a law they instated themselves."

Nefarian scoffed so hard he nearly choked on his wine. "Just pick one of the wyrms. We need numbers, not aspirations of divine inbreeding. You are one of the few females not currently incubating younglings."

"I need a mate who is at least on my power level, and there aren't any left. Shame Sebellian is gone. He would have done just fine, and if memory serves, he wasn't as big of a prick as you." Onyxia sighed, long and theatrical, like a widow lamenting the decline of eligible suitors.

"Sebellian was a sniveling, opportunistic wimp with his head deep up his own backside. I don't get why Father let him lead the armies." He gulped down his wine and refilled it with slightly more force than necessary. "But yes, you are right. You're both egotistical and emotionally stunted. He would've been a perfect mate for you." Nefarian shot back without skipping a beat. He was Onyxia's better in all ways, including oratory battles. She had never won a battle between the duo, not even once.

Onyxia gave a low growl, signaling she didn't want to continue this fight. "And why do you think I can't carry a child of a supreme one? If anyone has a chance, it's either me or Alexstraza. Even Father considered that bitch for a mate. Maybe we could use her as the first test. If she dies, I'll discard the idea."

"Interesting proposition, but let's not rush it. The Emperor does not want wars, and you know what would happen if we kidnapped her without proper countermeasures. The demon soul was destroyed after all. Sebellian, on the other hand, might still be alive. We don't know if he perished on Draenor, and that world still exists." Nefarian commented.

"So, launch an expedition and find him and other survivors. The emperor and mistress would be thrilled if more black dragons could be found." Onyxia perked up.

"I can't just waltz into the Blasted Lands and flick the dark portal back on like a light switch." Nefarian interrupted, gulping down the alcohol. "You want me to divert forces when rogue black dragons still slither around the Badlands like feral dogs?"

Onyxia rolled her eyes as she stretched on the sofa, clearly unimpressed. "And how many could there possibly be? Six? Seven? Hiding in caves? Trying to mate with orcs?" The night would be long, and her brother was dry company.

"By my estimate, two dozen, maybe more. Dangerous wyrms unaccounted for, the ones Father didn't trust."

"And while you waste time chasing phantom dragons, I'll wait for Lord Mare to grow up. Four or five years is a small price to pay for power." Her voice dripped with sultry amusement. "Besides, I like my men young and terrifying."

Nefarian slammed his goblet down—not enough to shatter it, but enough to make a statement, sending fragile cracks throughout it. "You really are trying to get yourself skinned and raised as a skinless blob of an undead. Just pick one of the wyrms. Get pregnant. Contribute. Leave your fantasies for your dreams." Nefarian hissed, his patience with his sister running thin.

Onyxia's smile could've sliced glass. "I will not lower myself to mate with something weaker. I have standards. Something you should try having."

Nefarian leaned back in his chair, a smirk crawling across his face like rot spreading on flesh. "You're right. I should've known better than to have ever lowered myself to mate with you."

That one hit home.

Onyxia's eyes narrowed to venomous slits. She rose, dramatically turned her chair with one arm, and sat back down—her back to him in theatrical protest. It was a childish gesture, made all the more ridiculous by the black dragoness' serpentine grace and ego. As expected.

Nefarian poured himself another glass and leaned back, silently triumphant. The night was long, the siblings were toxic, and their masters were asleep.

If any fools dared to breach Nazarick tonight, they would burn.

Editing by NabeisWaifu, aidan_lo, and Nich L

Proofreading by I AM THE STRING CUTTER, fvvck, IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, and aidan_lo.

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Chapter 49: Volume 2 - Chapter 20

Chapter 20

To be reborn as a supreme being wasn't something one accepted with a yawn and a stretch, and Aura Ooal Gown was no exception. Despite her fresh form, she retained memories of life in Yggdrasil as a floor guardian. But that Aura was a construct, a lovingly crafted NPC. This Aura was flesh and blood—imperial blood—a princess of the Nazarick Empire. And as confusing and awe-inspiring as that was, the only thing harder to digest than metaphysical rebirth was boredom.

Fortunately, her parents—Mom and Dad, not Lord Ainz and Lady Buku, as she'd been scolded for calling them—believed in starting their kids young. And Aura couldn't have been happier about her first assignment. The imperial princess was now the de facto goddess of all things four-legged, feathered, scaled, or finned. Flora? That was someone else's headache. Fauna? That was all her, and the first item on the to-do list was to populate the forests, lakes, and rivers with animals, fish, and insects.

Aura was born with the ability to recreate every life form she knew in detail, but at the moment, it was mostly creatures from Yggdrasil worlds, which was not ideal. There was an option just to create a completely new ecosystem, but since it wouldn't be isolated from the rest of the world, she could accidentally create an ecological catastrophe. The last thing she wanted was to show incompetence; thus, an expedition to learn about local life forms was approved by her mother. With a sizable escort, of course.

Aura stood on a hill that overlooked miles of misty green wilderness. She took in the pleasant sight and relished the scents of pine and damp earth. The wind ruffled the hem of her white runecloth suit, which shimmered faintly under the midday sun. Beneath it, dragon leather hugged her limbs like a second skin, supple and warm. The vest she wore over it was fashioned from the scales of black dragons—one scale each from nearly every adult—a show of devotion. The leather was a tribute from a wyrm who'd won a tournament.

She personally thought the suit somewhat subpar compared to her original one, but she understood the dragons' devotion, as she held similar reverence for her parents.

Around her, ten whelps–her personal attendants–buzzed around playful and carefree, playing catch and overall having a good time. Aura didn't see the need for them to just stand in rows in their human visages awaiting her orders. If she needed anything, she would just say it. The young dragons, less than two years old, were roughly her mental age and were still as playful and mischievous as any child, although they understood their duties. Together, they were waiting for her guards, led by Nefarian, to show up.

The two lead dragons insisted on assisting her and Mare, and since her brother was dealing with the druids, an undead dragon like Nefarian wasn't the best choice; thus, Mare got Onyxia to help him.

She crouched slightly and examined the landscape with scientific curiosity and delight. Aura was capable of recreating any creature she understood in sufficient detail—a gift that would eventually let her seed entire ecosystems. But now, most of her catalogue came from Yggdrasil's data and design files. Dumping otherworldly creatures into Azeroth's forests could end in an ecological apocalypse. Imagine what would happen if a level 80 [Dire Maneater Sloth] got loose and made a home in Elwynn Forest. So, field research it was for her first major outing as a Supreme Being of the Nazarick Empire.

Her wait wasn't long as Nefarian was known for his punctuality, like her father. Behind came the guards, posing as well-armed adventurers, forming a diamond-shaped escort formation with Aura at its centre.

"So I need an environment similar to Jarnvidr to gather data on the appropriate species," Aura announced without formality. "Oh, I also need to see a few human settlements. Dad suggested I create some farm animals as well."

Nefarian bowed his head. "The forests of Elwynn and the Hinterlands will suffice. As for the farm animals, they await you just outside the mountain, your Imperial Highness," the undead dragon stated.

"Just call me Aura and lead the way." She nodded as her attendants stopped playing and made a loose perimeter around her.

Nefarian opened a gate without hesitation and motioned for her to go through. On the other side, fenced enclosures lined the sides of a neatly arranged farm plot, with soft earthen pathways forming clean rows between pens, a pair of animals and birds in each. Cows, horses, pigs, chickens, ducks, sheep, goats, and even horse-sized rams gathered for her. Behind her were a set of much larger empty enclosures for testing purposes.

Aura walked from animal to animal and added their data to her primary ability, Life Manipulation. This ability lets her spawn, control, communicate, and even change the age or size of animals. To the class standards of this world, she was a hunter with a beast master specialization, but unlike her, the rest of the beastmasters could only tame, heal, and communicate with beasts.

Even the supreme beings adhered to the system of primary classes. Hers was beastmaster, hunter-aligned. But unlike mortals, who were more restricted to their class limitations, she and her family could learn any abilities, so her parents and brother could learn hers while she could do the same with theirs. Her mother, Buku, was primarily a warrior with a paladin subclass; her father was a necromancer and mage, and her brother was a druid. With such diversity in their skillsets, it made sense that she and Mare were the first to be reborn. They made the ideal foundation for the empire.

Once the data was collected, by placing a hand on their head, she could test out the creation of life. Picking an enclosure, she extended her hand, and four hundred cows with forty bulls popped into existence. Feeling that the animals were no different from their natural-born counterparts, she moved on and did the same with the rest of the farm animals, filling all available enclosures to the brim.

Aura quickly noted that it took a minuscule amount of her power. Thus, she could single-handedly populate the farms with all the necessary food animals and resolve the meat issue.

"You know, if there was more space, I could make a lot more." She commented, hands on her hips, surveying the braying and clucking results.

"In that case, I'll make necessary preparations. My kind will be thrilled, Lady Aura." Nefarian licked his lips, his gaze set on the cows.

"That's great, but let's move on. Mom doesn't want me wandering around at night," Aura urged impatiently, with a pout and a theatrical sigh. Buku had fully embraced the role of protective mother and, in Aura's eyes, went a tad too far as there was unlikely to be anything in the world that could as much as scratch her.

"Of course. After you." Nefarian replied with a courteous bow, opening another Gate. This time to a lush forest area.

"This is Elwynn forest. We must be careful, as the Emperor is adamant about not causing more conflicts with the Alliance." Nefarian cautioned.

"Sure, so we are avoiding settlements and not flying here?" Aura sought clarification. If her father demanded caution, she would do her best not to be seen by any intelligent life.

"Yes, any of us flying in our natural forms would be seen as hostile action."

"In that case, hop on." Aura just summoned her pets and hopped on Fenrir, a massive wolf the size of a warhorse with long flowing fur. Three of her attendants assumed their humanoid forms, as high elven children roughly her age, and joined her. The rest mounted the other four beasts she summoned: two reptilian beasts named Kirin and Basilisk, a bug-like creature with long hair named Long Hair, and a red lion named Red One.

With her not needing to stop to collect data, she followed Nefarian, who rode on Kirin and guided her through unpopulated areas of the human kingdom. In just over an hour, she had found all the notable life forms of the area and could move on.

Hinterlands, by contrast, presented far fewer restrictions. The local wildhammer dwarves and forest trolls were not formally aligned with either the Alliance or Horde, and because of that, their opinions on the expedition didn't matter.

The dragons assumed their natural forms, and Aura dismissed her pets, ready to ride one of them. That's when she ran into her first logistical nightmare of the day. The whelps were too small to carry her–barely a meter long, they were still in their early growth stages and better suited to gliding than proper flight. On the other hand, the wyrms were too large for her to sit on their necks comfortably.

With a huff of frustration, Aura knelt awkwardly on Nefarian's massive neck and grabbed onto the dragon's grey -black scales for balance.

"I need flying beasts. Does this world have anything appropriately sized for me?"

"I could call a younger dragon who would be more suitable, Lady Aura." Nefrian offered.

Aura made a face. "I'll pass. Having a dragon as a mount is nice and all, but I want to add flying beasts to my collection. Something that doesn't stick out too much."

Nefarian chuckled dryly. "In that case, you should be able to find gryphons in this area. They are used widely by both Alliance and neutral factions."

"Sounds good. Let's find some, then." Aura agreed as Nefarian took flight.

It was harder to locate animals as the massive dragon covered most of her vision, but Aura did her best and got a few additional species in her collection. Yet the gryphons eluded her. She was told they were highly intelligent and likely fled upon sensing dragons.

Luck still smiled on her, though. With her sharp vision, she noticed a gryphon hatchling. One wing was bent at a sickening angle, and its feathers were matted with dried blood. The poor creature trembled under the meagre shade, eyes darting about in terror.

"There!" Aura pointed, her voice urgent.

Nefarian didn't hesitate. He angled into a sharp descent. Trees swayed violently beneath his approach, dirt erupting in a cloud, scattering the birds and stirring startled animals from their hiding spots. He hit the ground, claws gouging the earth and tail curling protectively toward where Aura would dismount.

Aura hopped off and approached the hatchling. The animal let out a frightened screech and tried to run off, but she was having none of it. With an exhale, she activated the control beast ability and brought the hatchling under her control, ordering the small gryphon to approach her. The wounded beast was a blessing; she could test both animal healing and animal transformation.

First, she healed the hatchling's wing, getting an excited squawk in response.

"Much better. Here, for being a good boy." Aura pulled a piece of raw meat out of her inventory. The hatchling snatched it greedily, talons gripping the earth as it tore into the treat, jerking its head back in delighted gulps.

"What to call you…" she mused, tapping her chin. The little gryphon looked up with a streak of blood on its beak, completely unconcerned. "I know—Beakers," Aura exclaimed, drawing inspiration from the creature's comically oversized beak.

Beakers let out a squawk of approval and resumed feasting on the meat.

"I thought you might like it. Now let's change your size." Aura turned the gryphon into an adult, boosted the beast's overall power, and then reduced its size so she would be comfortable riding her pet.

"Lady Aura, isn't it suboptimal to forcefully age this creature? It would retain its infantile mind." Nefarian questioned. He stepped closer with folded arms and a voice tinged with curiosity. The late orc warlock Gul'dan, credited as the first warlock, had created a spell that let him age his own kind. Unfortunately, he could only force physical maturity, creating childish warriors not mentally prepared for adulthood. Maim Blackhand was one of such aged orcs, and it took him a long while to deal with the mental issues caused by this process. Hence, Nefarian had abstained from using this spell to age dragons.

Aura blinked. "Huh? What do you mean? Beakers isn't infantile—he's a properly grown-up gryphon."

Nefarian approached the beast to inspect it. "But how?"

"I only kinda know how my ability works. It's like–it takes the traits from the creature's parents and uses them as a base to mature it. Like Beakers is his own gryphon, but the life experience comes from his parents on an instinctive level, Dad called it genetic memory or something like that." Aura explained as best as she could.

Nefarian's eyes widened slightly, "Fascinating…" he murmured, stroking his chin like his master, an unconscious imitation he would never admit to. "Would this spell work on… sapient creatures?"

"Maybe. I don't know. Haven't tried it." Aura shrugged, her attention remaining on her newest pet as she couldn't wait to see the limits of Beakers.

"That calls for the tests. Lady Aura, would you agree to try this spell on mortal subjects and black dragons?" Nefarian inquired. He simply couldn't pass up the opportunity. If Aura indeed could properly age a dragon, she could quickly solve the population issue of black dragons. Considering the impossible might of the supreme ones, the princess likely could turn entire armies of young dragons into wyrms and hatchlings into adult dragons.

Aura blinked, then shrugged again. "If mom and dad say yes, sure. Why not? I'm kinda curious how it works on intelligent creatures too."

"Then I shall propose this to the Emperor immediately," Nefarian said, mentally forming arguments to persuade his lord.

"You do that," Aura replied, stretching and glancing toward the horizon. "Meanwhile, I think we can head back. We both will be in trouble if I don't get back by nightfall, and the sun is already setting." She had just enough time to take Beakers for a short flight and didn't want to wait until tomorrow.

Understanding how disastrous it was to anger the Empress, Nefarian opened a gate back to Nazarick. He was presented with a golden ticket, and getting in hot water with his master's wife was the last thing he wanted to do.

Editing by NabeisWaifu, Nick L

Proofreading by I AM THE STRING CUTTER, fvvck, IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO,

Link my discord server (https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2)

Chapter 50: Volume 2 - Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Failure was never an option. That had always been Mare's approach to everything. Now that he was not merely a Floor Guardian but a Prince of the Nazarick Empire, the very idea of failure felt more blasphemous than ever. He carried the legacy of Yggdrasil and the divine expectations of two supreme beings. His main task was simple: ensure that Jarnvidr, the vast forest Ainz had conjured into existence, was properly tethered to the emerald dream, which meant he needed to interact with the Cenarion Circle.

Sitting on a smooth slab of rock just outside the main ramp leading into Blackrock Mountain, Mare oozed an aura of stillness. His eyes were closed, his breathing slow and even, as he let the echo of the earth's pulse rise through his feet and spine. Around him, his attendants mimicked his lotus posture with varying levels of grace.

He was clad in the same tailored uniform as Aura—black with deep violet trim and subtle arcane threading—but unlike his sister, Mare missed his old skirt and long socks. Not because of any discomfort with his identity—his parents were clear on that—but because he was a prince now. A title came with a uniform, and he wore it with imperial dignity, despite longing for the swish of cloth at his knees.

Even so, he cared for his appearance, combing his hair to perfection and trimming and filing his nails into neat semi-round crescents. He had no dirt under his nails, even after spending the morning working with shamans in Jarnvidr.

As a druid, he felt at home in the forest his father had created, though he felt the disconnection from the world Lord Ainz had informed him of. His father may have been the absolute ruler of the supreme beings, but his expertise in nature was minimal and thus had not accounted for the peculiarities of this world.

Mare was not entirely sure how to connect to the emerald dream, but he was about to find out from the local druids, some of whom were millennia old.

Finally, Onyxia arrived through a gate with six wyrms in tow and bowed, "I apologize for the delay, your Imperial Highness, but your mother wished to personally instruct me on how I should conduct myself around you."

Mare opened his eyes and blinked at her.

"I-It's fine. Let's go then." He stood up, clutching his staff. His meek demeanor was an act he put on naturally, and it consistently distracted people enough for him to read everyone around him. Onyxia looked terrified, which meant his Mother had likely warned her about some of his behaviors. He wasn't particularly familiar with the workings of his parents' inner circle, so he would need to observe Onyxia carefully to have a better grasp on how to interact with her.

The dragoness didn't stall and opened a gate for him immediately, leading to a small grove where the Cenarion Circle members were permitted to take as Mare followed silently. The scene that greeted him on the other side of the gate could only be described as chaotic. A bird the size of a hawk, with tusks curving out from its beak, squawked angrily from its unfortunate position—wedged beak-first into the hollow of a tree. Nearby, a tusked lion-like creature chased its tail in a dizzying spiral, while a frustrated tauren tried to stop the beast. Off to the side, a group of trolls were practicing nature magic under the tutelage of a night elf while a large bear with antlers slept under a nearby tree, loudly snoring.

"Presenting Imperial Prince Mare Ooal Gown." Onyxia's voice crashed through the grove, the tail-chasing lion leaping into a bush in panic, and the poor tusked bird let out a startled shriek from within its wooden prison.

The bear jolted awake with such force that his antlers rattled the leaves above him. In the blink of an eye, fur and claws were replaced by flesh and robes as the druid shifted into his night elf form.

"Ah, the young prince we were warned about. I'm Amallath Mosscloud, and I look forward to working with you." He broke into a good-natured smile and bowed lightly.

"I suggest you address His Imperial Highness properly." Onyxia hissed.

Amallath didn't flinch. He merely turned his gaze to her and gave her a serene smile, "We druids are not ones for formalities. I'm sure the young prince is more interested in what we can teach than the long prattle and recital of titles," he said simply.

"Let's start then. I need to see how you connect the forest to the emerald dream." Mare agreed with the sentiment of keeping things simple. As a druid himself, he felt some kinship with these people. Of course, they weren't servants of his parents and thus ultimately disposable, but as long as they were useful, he would treat them as friends.

Amallath gave a satisfied nod and gestured for Mare to follow, eager to show off the living conduits, enchanted groves, and dreamward saplings they'd been nurturing under imperial permission.

Meanwhile, Onyxia just growled and stepped back, leaning against a tree with her arms crossed. Buku's words still echoed in her mind. If she tried to groom, seduce, or manipulate Mare in any way, her head would be mounted on the bedroom wall and her headless body reanimated and used as a toilet for orks. Honestly, she didn't know what was worse: the visuals, the creativity, or the fact that Buku had said it while smiling.

"First things first," the druid began, "as I understand, the druidic arts you are familiar with are not directly connected to Azeroth in any way, so you could start by telling me what you know of their nature so I don't bore you with things you already know.

"I have an ability called nature manipulation, which lets me create, alter, and duplicate plant life," Mare replied softly. "I can also create earth dragons. What I need to know is how to connect the forest to the emerald dream."

"Ah, yes. The task your father entrusted to you." Amallath inclined his head in reverence. "I will show you how to access Emerald Dream, but I must warn you: something strange is happening within it. Druids who chose to walk its sacred glades are not waking up. For that reason, we only access this realm through meditation." Amallath explained.

Mare blinked, but said nothing. No reaction, no concern shown outwardly. Only the faintest of nods.

"Let's walk," the druid suggested, motioning to a sun-dappled moss and fern trail. "This surrounding area is already fully integrated. It will serve as a safe anchor."

The grove they were in was magical—canopies braided like the vaulted ceilings of temples, the air was thick with the perfume of honeysuckle, pine, and ancient loam. Behind them, his dragon attendants in humanoid forms followed without a word, their eyes scanning every shadow.

This tidbit of information was already enough, and he reached out with his mind and observed the vegetation around him, feeling the subtle connection to the immaterial realm of nature. With him constantly keeping up a meek appearance, Mare had mastered the skill of multitasking and listened to the druid explain the simple basics as his main attention plunged deeper into the emerald dream.

It greeted him like a shrouded dreamscape, vibrant with life, yet wrong in ways that twisted the gut. A putrid scent of rot clung to the otherwise pristine natural energy like mold on a sacred scroll. The corruption wasn't overt, but it was persistent.

"Ah, and here it is," Amallath said at last, stopping beside an ash tree and stroking its bark. "I will start with this tree and you, young prince, please observe."

The druid pressed his palm gently to the tree's bark, eyes fluttering shut. Soft green light traced along his fingers, into the trunk, and pulsed through the roots in rhythmic patterns. The air shimmered as subtle threads of the Dream bled through into reality, connecting the tree to its reflection in the spirit realm.

Mare watched in silence, outwardly. Inwardly, his spiritual senses had already tracked this process several minutes ago. The moment Amallath had suggested meditation, Mare had already begun. He hadn't needed the demonstration, but watching it confirmed his feelings.

There was contamination, yes. But the path was clear. The energies of life and rot were distinct. Where other druids might struggle to filter them apart, Mare's divine control over nature allowed him to segregate them like a farmer separating chaff from grain or a healer drawing poison from blood. The less this druid knew about his actual capability, the better. Caution bordering on paranoia was the best approach when dealing with individuals with questionable loyalties and goals. Mare knew that he now shared this trait with his father and couldn't be more proud to have some similarities with the ultimate ruler. His parents remade him better, and he couldn't be more grateful.

"Was my demonstration enough to catch glimpses of the process?" The druid asked, his tone kind, perhaps even a bit proud, as if he had taught something meaningful.

"Yes," Mare said with a quiet nod. Polite. Reserved. And entirely false.

He remained half-lost from the material realm. Something weird was happening in the emerald dream, and he wanted to be sure Jarnvidr was adequately protected from this rot, which seemed to be subtly corrupting the emerald dream. This task was not particularly hard as he could sense a clear distinction between the two types of energies, and all he had to do was to shield the plant life from the corrupting influence while letting nature energies through.

Mare picked a nearby tree for the test and cast a spell that connected it fully with the emerald dream. There was a subtle change in the tree's energy, and it seemingly perked up and spread wider.

"You learn fast, young prince." Amallath patted the tree. "You are in good hands, my friend. Grow strong."

Mare said nothing in response. Not because he was rude—just focused. The test was successful, so he continued with his task. Doing this one tree at a time, like the druids of Cenarion Circle, would take years, so he sought to match his father and deal with the entire forest in one go. He already knew Aura would soon start populating Jarnvidr with wildlife, and he needed to finish ahead of her.

With a deep breath, he extended his awareness to encompass the entirety of the Empire. Then, he drew upon his near infinite mana reserves, converting the primal force that was his birthright into pure nature energies, warm green light dancing around his fingers. As he exhaled, they rushed out of him. The world trembled, the shockwave rippling through the forest like a sacred pulse. Amallath was thrown backward by the sheer force, landing unceremoniously in a pile of soft moss. The trees around them didn't just react—they celebrated. The roots of the trees and grass reached deeper into soil they now fertile and welcoming, their branches and stems pushing up toward the sun. The forest responded with a satisfied sigh of gratitude. In one fell swoop, his job was done.

Mare calmly dusted his hands off, looking entirely unbothered by what he had just done.

Amallath, meanwhile, was weeping on his knees, tears streaming freely down his cheeks. His lips quivered. "How!? How did you do this? Lord Cenarius himself couldn't perform such a feat… not even Ysera could."

"Dad made me in his image." Mare proudly replied with a wide smile.

The druid let out a choked laugh, halfway between worship and hysteria. "Please," he said, crawling forward slightly. "Please take me as your apprentice. Teach me. No—teach all of us. My people need your guidance. Let us follow you."

In Amallath's eyes, Mare was no longer a mere prince. He was a living conduit of life itself, a divine entity, perhaps even kin to the great Life-Binder Eonar, goddess of all living things, the one who bestowed her gifts to Alexstraza and Ysera. It was no longer possible, nor necessary, to explain Mare in mere druidic terms. The young prince had done what even the demigods of nature had failed to do.

In his heart, Amallath was certain now: the Supreme Ones were titans reborn. First, they restored the black dragonflight: purged of their corruption and noble once again. Now, this child—this gentle, soft-spoken boy—had restored balance to nature on a scale once believed to be myth.

Mare, for his part, scratched his cheek awkwardly.

"Umm…I'll have to ask Dad about it," he said, already regretting the eye contact. "But if he says it's okay, sure. As long as you serve him with proper loyalty and devotion."

Amallath bowed low, forehead touching the forest floor. "Of course. We'll await your answers. For now, we shall train the next generation of druids for your command."

'Dad wanted more druids, so this should be a good thing.' Mare gave a quiet nod, but inside, a familiar anxiety slithered in like a silent predator ready to gnaw on his peace of mind. All he wanted was to deal with the forest and make his parents proud, not start a cult of druids that worship him as a God. 'I didn't mess up, did I?'

He walked towards Onyxia with a purpose, the dragoness not looking even slightly surprised about the outcome of his actions.

"I-I need to go back. To talk with father." He urged.

"As you wish." Onyxia bowed and opened a gate.

Mare didn't waste a moment. He rushed through, arriving in his quarters, and ran straight towards the throne room where he hoped to find his father at this hour. To his immense relief, his father was on his throne and discussing the possibility of a permanent portal network with the head warlock whose name Mare didn't know.

Ainz's head turned the moment his son burst into the room, the blue flames in his eye sockets dimming momentarily in curiosity. "Back already? Did you need anything?"

"I'm done with the forest but…" Mare froze, his hands shaking uncontrollably. The words caught in his throat and twisted, gripped by the gnawing fear that he had ruined everything.

He had been entrusted with a task.

And what if he had messed it up?

Ainz, ever perceptive, held up a hand. "Leave us," he commanded.

The warlock stopped mid-sentence, bowed so deeply his forehead nearly kissed the floor, and quickly scurried away. The towering black-armoured overlord rose from his throne and walked over to his son, the clack of his bone-shod boots echoing softly in the silent chamber. "What happened?" He asked, concerned.

"The druids… they want to study under me a-and worship me." Mare managed to stammer.

A beat of silence passed. Then another. "Are you sure their request was genuine?"

Mare nodded quickly. "Yes. I believe so."

"Then I see no problem… as long as they don't try to influence you," Ainz replied with an ease that nearly made Mare's knees give out. He let out the biggest sigh of relief. He hadn't messed up anything.

"Was that all you were worried about?" Ainz asked as he returned to his throne. With a fatherly gesture, he motioned toward the throne beside him—a newer construct, elegant yet practical, built specifically for his heir.

Still shaking slightly, Mare plopped into the seat, his legs dangling slightly. He was a prince of the empire now, but still a child, especially in the eyes of the one seated beside him.

"There is also something wrong with the Emerald Dream," he admitted, his voice soft but steadying now. "But I blocked all the corrupting energies. The forest is fine now."

Ainz tapped the sharp edge of his chin with a thoughtful clack, a habit Mare recognized from moments of deep contemplation. "This corruption doesn't sound good. Hmm…"

A pause. Then a challenge disguised as a command.

"Mare, do you think you could manage to take over the Cenarion Circle and perform a worldwide investigation into this matter?"

Mare blinked. The idea hit him like a thunderclap. Take over the Circle? It sounded absurd. He was still adjusting to the weight of his boots. But there was no sarcasm in Ainz's voice, no doubt—only trust.

His father believed in him.

And that was more empowering than any spell.

"I will try." Mare eagerly nodded, earning a head pat from Ainz. His father surely trusted his ability, and the boy was thrilled to have such trust.

Editing by NabeisWaifu, Nick L

Proofreading by IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, fvvck, Ivan Chechnya

Link my discord server ( https://discord.gg/WmGKVU3XG2 )

Chapter 51: Update

I will start with the announcement. There won't be any updates anytime soon, likely in the next few months. That said, the story is not dropped, and I am not retiring from writing altogether. The truth is, writing lately feels like an obligation, a job I am not getting apid for, and for a hobby, which writing ultimately is for me, it is devastating.

A hobby that feels like work will kill any interest in the hobby, thus, I need to step back and reevaluate my writing process and what I actually want from writing. I still fully intend to finish the stories I have started publishing, but things are likely to change. Perhaps I will switch to more traditional publishing and drop volume at a time, which obviously will take months between each publication.

In either case, take care, and I apologize for stopping updates like this.