Magic Caster of Destroy

Everyone’s attention went to Ainz. Their earnest, pleading expressions seemed to say, “Please enlighten this foolish one”.

After looking over everyone, Ainz took a deep breath. No, he took several deep breaths.

Then, he slowly rose from his chair, and turned his back to the Guardians. From this position, he offered praise to Demiurge.

“…As expected of Demiurge, and the Overseer of the Guardians, Albedo. To think, you could discern my true aims…”

“…No, Ainz-sama’s schemes are elaborate and farsighted. I cannot hope to compare. And I believe what I understand is only a portion of your plans.”

Demiurge bowed respectfully in response to Ainz' praise.

“I have heard that some of the maids speak of you as a Wise King. I believe that name is best suited for Ainz-sama. To think, assuming the role of Momon the adventurer was part of your master plan.

Now he has become an effective alternative to levelling a country.”

Ainz nodded in smug self-satisfaction, but his heart was a vortex of doubt.

…What’s he saying? Momon? What is the name of that adventurer from E-Rantel doing here?

“What does this all mean?”

Shalltear’s question carried a hint of jealousy, it was probably because only two people could think on the same level as her beloved master. As she saw Demiurge’s faint smile and Albedo’s beaming victor’s smile, Aura could not help but puff up her cheeks.

“Ainz-sama, tell us too. We want to be useful as well!”

“Th-then, um, uh, please tell us!”

“To. Begin. With. We. Should. Not. Need. To. Have. It. Spelled. Out. For Us. Please. Forgive. This.

Foolish One.”

“I pray you will enlighten us in this matter, Ainz-sama.”

Ainz kept his back faced to them, and covered his face with a hand. The stress made him feel like he was going to faint.

―There is no greater joy in life for us than to serve you.

The Guardians behind him were saying something similar, all at the same time.

Ainz could not help but feel his heart ache with guilt as he heard the Guardians lament behind him.

His emotions should have been suppressed, but the pain he felt was uncontrollable.

Should he come clean and admit his own incompetence?

Ainz' myriad doubts and speculations would not allow him to say that.

He cast aside his doubts and turned around, thrusting the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown forward as he did.

“Demiurge. I permit you to explain what you understand to the others.”

“Understood.”

After Demiurge nodded, he began speaking to his comrades.

Part 5

The structure of the carriages had not changed between the journey to and from Nazarick, but for some reason, every slight bump and movement along the way seemed magnified. The reason was probably because of the gloomy atmosphere in the carriage’s interior. Or it might be because of the change in the composition of the carriage’s occupants.

The troops escorting them to Nazarick were composed of men from the First Legion. The ones escorting them from Nazarick were from the Second Legion.

In place of Fluder was one of his acolytes. In place of Roune was one of his scribes. The two original occupants of the carriage who remained were Jircniv and Baziwood.

Fluder was not here because he wanted to discuss what he had seen with his disciples. In his stead, he had sent one of his acolytes to take his place in Jircniv’s carriage. Though the acolyte was skilled, he was still a far cry from his master.

In all likelihood, the discussion in Fluder’s carriage was probably at a feverish intensity.

The mood in their carriage would probably be the polar opposite of this one. In Jircniv’s carriage, there was only silence.

The grim mood continued pervading through the carriage.

The one who had made it this way was Jircniv himself. His face was hard, and his expression bitter, like he had chewed on a lotus root.

The man who was known and feared as the Blood Emperor was a man who typically wore a cold smile on his face. In truth, that expression was carefully rehearsed. This was because he had to cultivate the impression of a strong emperor among his people. If a person who stood above all others could not make a striking impression on everyone, it would cause unease among those who followed him.

However, it seemed that even these three people, who knew Jircniv the best, had never seen this look on Jircniv’s face. Everyone present knew this, which was why they kept quiet and remained in their places.

Even if he felt them looking at him, Jircniv did not plan to say anything.

The reason for that was abundantly clear.

Or rather, if anyone could think of anything else, Jircniv would split open that person’s head to see what was inside. Chances are, he would find a brain the size of his pinky finger.

The Great Tomb of Nazarick… In truth, calling it a tomb was grossly inappropriate.

That’s a demon king’s castle!

Those frightening beings, and beyond them―

―The spectre of Death, which sat upon a throne.