Magic Caster of Destroy

Nimble shot a thankful look at Kabein, but as he did, he noticed a pained expression on Kabein’s face. It seemed to say it might be hard on you, but it’s even harder on me.

The carriage stopped before them.

Nimble gasped, for more than one reason.

The first was because the carriage itself was breathtakingly beautiful. Its base color was a black that seemed to have been cut from the night sky itself, highlighted elaborate decorations which covered the entire chassis of the vehicle. Said decorations had the subdued radiance of pure gold and bronze, giving the whole an elegant, classy air. Although the embellishments might have been a little overdone, it did not reach the point of tackiness. Instead, it resembled nothing so much as a giant treasure box.

Nimble had ridden the Emperor’s personal carriage on occasion, and he was of the firm opinion that the one before him made the Emperor’s look like a haywagon.

The other reason which so surprised him was the beast pulling the carriage. It was a beast, because there was no way it could have been a mere horse. The creature gurgled softly, a liquid “gurururu”

sound, and its sharp teeth could be seen in the slight opening of its mouth. Its entire body was covered in scales that seemed to belong to a reptile, and underneath those scales were prominent, rippling bands of muscle.

It was like a horse-shaped avatar of brutality and violence.

Everyone around it was filled with an acute sense of alarm. Nimble himself was starting to hyperventilate, and sweat broke out on his back and palms. The beast was that terrifying.

Amidst the storm of panicked breaths, the carriage’s door opened.

A dark elf girl alighted.

All thinking ground to a halt.

Nobody could speak. Their eyes were drawn irresistibly to her.

The girl holding her twisted black staff was adorable. When she grew up, she would surely break many hearts. Her beauty would be such that men would do anything for her. Even her demure expression was like a flower blossoming under the moonlight.

However, the things on her hands were utterly incongruous with the image she projected.

They were gauntlets.

The left gauntlet was an evil-looking thing that resembled the hand of a demon. It seemed to be made out of some sort of black metal, which was covered in twisted thorns. Its fingertips were sharpened into points, and the dirty radiance surrounding it resembled some sort of strange secretion. Just a single look filled all who saw it with a terror stemming from the depths of their souls.

In contrast, the right gauntlet looked like the pure, immaculate hand of a maiden. It was white in color and its slender proportions were covered in elaborate gold embroidery, which further emphasized its exquisite beauty. It drew the eye like bees to honey, and just like seeing a world-class beauty, the onlookers felt like they might lose their souls to it.

“A-Ah, Ainz-sama. I think we’ve arrived.”

“Have we now. Thank you, Mare.”

With that, another figure revealed itself.

In that moment, the air suddenly turned heavy and somber.

The bodies of every man present were covered in goosebumps. This was not hostility, but a feeling that was harder to describe.

Ainz Ooal Gown was dressed in the trappings that one would associate with an arcane magic caster.

To begin with, he wore a jet-black robe, and on top of that, another black cloak, which was doubly curious. He held a staff, which was not as lavishly decorated as one might expect it to be. Around his neck was a silver necklace set with a gemstone. And on his face was a strange mask.

“We bid you and your entourage welcome, your Majesty, Sorcerer-King Ainz Ooal Gown.”

Nimble lowered his head. However, he didn’t hear anyone else following suit.

Despite knowing it was very rude, he had to turn behind to look.

The general and knights behind him were frozen in place. They had been utterly overwhelmed by the Sorcerer-King’s presence and could not move.

That much he could understand. However, if this went on, it wouldn’t turn out well.

In the end, it was the general who delivered the solution to Nimble’s predicament.

“Legion!”

The roar belonged to Kabein. It was a crisp, bracing command that didn’t seem to suit a noble like himself, but which fitted his rank as a general perfectly.

“A salute! To his Majesty, the Sorceror King!”

“Sir!”

The knights chorused their reply, and as one, they presented their arms to Ainz.

“I thank you for your welcome, you knights who are the pride of the Empire.”

It was a thoroughly mundane response, which made it that much more frightening. It felt like something monstrous was trying its best to act like a human being. Having heard of the face underneath the mask, Nimble experienced that sensation even more acutely than the others.

“Please raise your heads.”

The first time he said it, nobody responded.

“Can you not raise your heads?”

After the second time, they complied. After all, waiting until the third time was an honor only granted to one’s own ruler.