Valkyrie's Shadow

Chapter 8

All’s well that ends well…or something like that?

An odd mixture of worry and embarrassment ebbed from Ainz’s bones as he looked down at the fallen form of Baroness Zahradnik. Holenyot cradled her in his tentacles, his single eye fixed into a look of concern. The disaster that Ainz had feared would happen hadn’t, but Shalltear had created a disaster of a different kind.

“Holenyot,” Shalltear whispered to the Roper, “this is your chance!”

Ainz chopped the overly excited Vampire again.

“We should move her to a place where she may rest undisturbed,” he said. “Holenyot, take her down to the Sixth Floor.”

“By your command, Ainz-sama.”

The Roper secured the young woman and left the cave. Too late, Ainz realised the highly problematic image it created. He took one last look at the cavern before returning to the catacombs outside, but the Roper was long gone. Not far away, Aureole Omega was examining the aftermath of the Baroness’ escapades across the Second Floor.

“Ainz-sama. I saw something quite unsettling just now…”

“I instructed Holenyot to bring Lady Zahradnik to a resting place on the Sixth Floor.”

She’s Undead, so does she even need rest? How did she faint, anyway? Shouldn’t she be immune to those sorts of effects?

The world was a strange place, and that strangeness wasn’t limited to harmless oddities.

“Is that so? The poor woman, of all of the Five Worsts, it had to be him…”

“Ah, nothing happened, just so you know.”

“Unfortunately,” Shalltear added.

Ainz bopped Shalltear on the head again, but, this time, she emitted a heated moan.

“More importantly,” he withdrew his hand and cleared his throat, “how goes your analysis of the…well, we can’t exactly call it a battle.”

The Baroness’ fight across the Second Floor was an eye-opening affair. He had always felt that the test with the Workers was lacking in many ways and that much had now been made plain.

Why is abjuration so unpopular around here again?

A single counterdivination effect had effectively blinded the defence coordinator and thus her ability to effectively respond to a single, well-equipped threat who opted for a low-impact approach. It wasn’t as if the spell in question was out of reach for the natives. It also wasn’t impossible for the natives to achieve similar sets of equipment if the rest of the world was advanced as many asserted. Thus, the Baroness probably wasn’t unique in her combination of combat and infiltration capabilities.

“I mostly understand how events played out, Ainz-sama,” Aureole said, “but It feels like many of the things that happened should have been impossible.”

“Yet, this is our reality now,” Ainz said. “As a Commander, what would you say our most glaring weaknesses are?”

“Many factors came together to generate this result,” Aureole said. “First would be the lack of information we had to work with. With divination measures failing and most of the Mercenaries disabled, our surveillance is woefully lacking. Lady Zahradnik could simply hide whenever it suited her, and the longer she hid, the more effort it took to keep track of all of the possible actions she might have undertaken.”

Ainz nodded in agreement. To put it simply, Nazarick’s defences were designed to face Level 100 players. As such, the anti-stealth measures in their defensive scheme came in the form of Mercenaries on par or better than the Eyeball Corpses he could summon. All of them had Truesight and boasted detection abilities that surpassed Aura’s, and many of them had a suite of annoying Skills designed to hamper invaders until the combat-oriented Mercenaries could engage them.

With Nazarick in low maintenance mode, however, all of those assets were disabled. The reconnaissance-capable Mercenaries that were still active – namely the Eight-Edge Assassins and Hanzos – were deployed outside of Nazarick and limited in availability. The free POPs that now served as the guild base’s regular security force weren’t ever meant to be a security force in the first place. They were simply elements that added flavour to the tomb and most could be safely ignored by high-level Players.

“I probably have a solution to the surveillance issue,” Ainz said. “And I believe it is less of an actual issue and more the fact that our previous experiment with native subjects didn’t fully explore their potential as we might have in the Sorcerous Kingdom. What other factors do you consider a problem?”

“The next issue concerns the POPs, Ainz-sama,” Aureole replied. “The vast majority are mindless and thus can only carry out simple instructions. Without a proper distribution of Commanders to oversee Nazarick’s assets, our responsiveness leaves much to be desired. This, in turn, compounds with our surveillance issues and the various…realities that come with this new world.”

“Could Elder Liches not be employed for the role?”

“Elder Liches are a potential option since they are suited to commanding Undead forces, but they do have a distinct ‘flavour’ that can be exploited. The natives seem to be well-versed in this – in fact, I would almost say that the near-universal antagonistic relationship between the Undead and the living in this world has led to a situation where everyone knows how to fight the Undead and are more than willing to do so. We have been overpowering all opposition thus far, but that is no guarantee it will always be the case.”

Once again, Ainz nodded silently in agreement. He wasn’t certain whether it was because of her Commander Job Class Levels or her settings in general, but the somewhat reclusive Aureole Omega was one of the most observant, rational, and shrewd NPCs in Nazarick. As the Area Guardian of the Cherry Blossom Sanctuary and the Commander of the Great Tomb’s ultimate line of defence on the Eighth Floor, she was not only readily critical of what she saw as issues, but also actively endeavoured to come up with solutions for them.

“In that case,” Ainz asked, “what would you recommend?”

“It isn’t as if we can’t use Elder Liches,” Aureole answered, “we simply need to train them out of their ‘template’. As Ainz-sama has so abundantly proven, having the Undead act outside of the natives’ expectations casts all of their preconceptions and thus preparations to the wind. With sufficient experience, the Elder Liches working in the outside world may be employed for the task.”

“What about until then?”

“I believe that expanding the Area Guardians’ responsibilities will assist greatly in our responsiveness to threats. They aren’t Commanders, but anything is better than our current extreme top-down approach to defence.”

“Expanding their responsibilities…do you mean something like having them not only defend their rooms, but also the corridors in the vicinity?”

“That would be the most straightforward application, Ainz-sama, but not the only one. For instance, if we spread Kyouhukou’s family all over the place, they could act as a makeshift alarm system. Their mundane detection ability is poor, but if one of them gets stepped on…ah–please don’t let anyone know that I made such a suggestion.”

A quiet smile that was at least three parts mischief traced over Aureole’s lips. Ainz could easily imagine the uproar that would occur if he went through with that particular suggestion.

“We’ll probably have to pass on that one,” Ainz said, “but your point is well taken. I’ll have the Area Guardians of each floor get together and we’ll see what they can come up with. Do you have anything else to add?”

“Beyond that, Ainz-sama, it is difficult to say. A Commander is only as effective as the information that they have and the resources at their disposal. Once our defences are reorganised, they will have to be further assessed.”

“Umu. In that case, we’re done here.”

Aureole folded her hands in front of her lap and bowed respectfully.

“Then I shall be returning to my post, Ainz-sama. Please enjoy the rest of the tournament.”

The clacking of Aureole’s geta receded down the corridor. Ainz glanced at Shalltear, who had been standing quietly at his side the entire time.

“Speaking of the tournament,” he said, “shouldn’t you be preparing for it as well?”

“Oh, but I have been, Ainz-sama!”

Dressed as she was, the words didn’t carry much weight. Her apparent ‘preparations’ didn’t in any way resemble what someone facing a major battle would undergo.

Much to Shalltear’s disappointment, Ainz left the Second Floor to rejoin the event on the Sixth. A festival was being held outside the arena, acting as a ‘battleground’ of sorts for Nazarick’s noncombatants. The aroma of the food stands wafted through the air, tempting passers-by with their offerings.

“Yakisoba! Get your super addictive yakisoba here!”

“Grilled corn and squid! We’ve got beer, too!”

“Cotton candy! Candied apples! Chocolate bananas!”

The Homunculus Maids were, of course, the main customers. They walked together in twos and threes, often with one food item or another sticking out of their mouths. Ainz could only sigh whimsically at the sight. Suzuki Satoru’s memories of food mostly consisted of flavoured nutrient paste and his old world certainly didn’t have anything like this…at least not for the common man. He often bemoaned the irony of having an entire fantasy world before him, yet being unable to experience it as he formerly could.

“Ainz-sama!!!”

Aura’s voice sounded from somewhere in the crowd. She appeared a moment later, squeezing through the throng with a bright smile on her face.

“Ainz-sama, welcome back! Is everything alright?”

“It was nothing to worry about. How are the festivities coming along?”

“Great! The first performance starts in an hour…actually, something weird happened just now.”

“Weird?”

“Yeah. People were saying that Holenyot caught a woman. I went to look and the woman turned out to be Baroness Zahradnik!”

“Ah…I’m not exactly sure how it happened, but she ended up at Holenyot’s place. I instructed him to bring her over here. Where did they go, by the way?”

“He disappeared into an empty cabin with her,” Aura’s gaze slid to the side. “I don’t think anyone’s willing to find out what they’re doing.”

“Aura, you shouldn’t judge a man by his tentacles.”

What the hell did I just say?

“Of course!” Aura replied with a completely serious expression, “Holenyot was created by the Supreme Beings as the Worst Ero, so no one would ever judge him for that! He’s carrying out Ainz-sama’s orders, too!”

How did it end up that way? Ainz considered clarifying his statement, but he was afraid that it would end up in an awkward place. Aura was still a child by Elf standards, after all.

“Mah, I’m sure they’ll join us later. Let’s take a look around, shall we?”

“Yes, Ainz-sama!”

The crowd parted to make way, with cheers accompanying his every footstep. It was how he would have liked E-Rantel to be – well, maybe not to the same extremes – but the citizens still had a long way to go regarding their support of the Sorcerer King. Being Undead was a bigger obstacle than he initially thought it would be.

“You’ve been doing an excellent job officiating the matches so far, Aura. Is it something you enjoy? If I recall correctly, you also did it that other time.”

“Hmm, I wonder…it’s more like I end up being the one doing it, I guess?”

“It must be because you have a very energetic voice,” Ainz said. “Conveying excitement is very important in that sort of job.”

Though he said so, his statement wasn’t the product of good memories. As a grunt in sales, he had to do it even if it killed him. Putting on a smile and displaying enthusiasm about products that he had no clue about always left him feeling empty after he met with company clients. In many cases, some of the goods seemed so sketchy that he felt like he was cheating people, and he probably was.

His was a cutthroat world where people cut corners wherever they could. Not that anyone seemed to care. If a machine that he sold to a company killed dozens or even hundreds of its employees, that company wouldn’t give a damn so long as it resulted in greater profits than before. There were always more poor and desperate people scratching up a living outside of the arcologies to replace the dead and maimed, after all.

They stopped to watch some of the denizens try to win prizes at a shooting gallery. Someone had gotten the guild Blacksmith to craft a handful of low-level magical guns, which fired their default ammo at a group of targets made from higher-tier materials. It wasn’t exactly the same as the historical records that one of his friends had shown him in the past, but it was close enough.

Come to think of it, where did they get the ideas for all of this?

“Who built the stands for the festival?” Ainz asked.

“Um…some of my Area Guardians went to do some research for the festival in the Great Library,” Aura answered. “They said they found all of this there.”

“Ah, I guess that makes sense…”

Yggdrasil took every opportunity to push its microtransactions on the player base, so someone had probably purchased some sort of festival bundle for the guild base. Ainz Ooal Gown had more than a few impulsive shoppers who couldn’t resist special promotions and filled rows of shelves in Ashurbanipal with their ‘spoils’.

An exaggerated bang sounded from the range. The shot went wide, putting a hole in the back of the stall.

“…isn’t that dangerous?” Ainz asked.

“I don’t think so,” Aura answered. “Those guns are so terrible that they can’t hit anything.”

That’s a problem too, isn’t it?

The stand operator – a half-golem Area Guardian from the Fourth Floor named Gororo – did look rather smug. A bullet bounced off of his shoulder and he let out a mocking snort.

“How about giving it a shot, Aura?”

“Me? I don’t have any mana, so…”

“Ah, that entirely slipped my mind.”

He wondered how a Gunner would fare. As if reading his thoughts, Shizu and Entoma emerged from the crowd. The pink-haired sniper stepped up to the counter, flipping a Yggdrasil gold coin over to the Half-Golem operator. Shizu raised her weapon, but then Gororo went to stand in her way.

“H-Hold on there, Miss Shizu! You have to use one of our weapons!”

Shizu stared silently at the operator. She picked up one of the weapons lying on the counter and scrutinised it with an expressionless look.

“This weapon. It sucks.”

“If you don’t like it,” the Half-Golem crossed his arms, “then don’t play.”

“Too hard?” Entoma said around a mouthful of grilled squid.

The muzzle of the shoddy magical gun came up and a shot rang out. A metallic clink sounded as the magical round hit not the target downrange from Shizu, but the post on the other side of the target beside it.

That can’t be right. No matter how terrible that weapon is, it should still perform better than a mundane weapon in Shizu’s hands…

Another shot rang out. A divot appeared in the ground a metre in front of the target. Ainz’s gaze went from the ground to the target, trying to figure out what was going on.

“Is it just me,” he said, “or are those targets equipped with armour?”

“They are, Ainz-sama,” Aura replied.

“…why?”

“Because it’s a battle between the stand and any challengers, right? Why would they let them win?”

I knew this was too normal looking to be true.

Combat in their new world, as Ainz had quickly learned, did not follow the rules that one might expect in a ‘real’ world. Instead, the outcomes of any action were close to what one would expect from Yggdrasil. A shoddy, low-level weapon shooting unenchanted projectiles in what was effectively an auto attack had no chance of successfully landing a hit on the armour adorning the targets.

“「Full Burst」.”

A storm of gunfire lit the stand as Shizu activated one of her Gunner skills. By the end of it, the barrel of Shizu’s gun – which was supposed to be a bolt-action rifle – glowed an angry orange and the stand had more holes than stand. The armoured target, however, stood completely unscathed. Shizu scanned her handiwork and nodded once before stomping away. The stand collapsed a few moments later.

“What was the point of that stand, exactly?” He half said to himself.

“Oh, Ainz-sama,” Gororo emerged from the debris, “I’m so glad that you asked! The challengers to this stand experience what it must be like for the natives of this world to face the Great Tomb of Nazarick! As you can see, the target is completely intact!”

Ainz eyed the remains of the stand. If the target was Nazarick, then what did the stand itself represent?

“I see you’ve put quite a bit of thought into it,” he said. “It’s unfortunate that it’s ruined now.”

“This one is humbled by Ainz-sama’s praise! There’s no need to worry about the stand: we can have a replacement made in no time.”

He glanced at the bystanders. It didn’t look like anyone found the explanation strange. If anything, they were touched by the notion. As he left the stand, he overheard more than a few chatting excitedly about experiencing the futility of the shooting gallery.

After perusing some of the festival’s other offerings, Aura led him to the stage where the afternoon talent show would soon begin. A gilded throne had been prepared for him on the front row, looking painfully out of place with its surroundings.

“Won’t this block the view of the people behind me?” Ainz asked.

“Looking at the back of the chair that Ainz-sama is sitting on is far better than just watching the performances!” Aura answered.

His eyes went to the crowd. Indeed, they were mostly arranged behind the throne, making it look like an explosion had scoured away the rest of the audience.

“Let’s have everyone sit more normally, shall we?” Ainz said, “The performers must have practised hard for this moment, after all.”

Ainz went to sit down while Aura went to disperse the audience. The stage had been constructed out of wood harvested from the Sixth Floor, coming complete with a pit where the Erich String Orchestra would accompany the various acts.

Having all those Doppelganger faces looking up from the pit at me like that is actually sort of creepy…

If he recalled correctly, most had already stored the forms of various natives in the Sorcerous Kingdom and beyond. A few of them had already ‘performed’ abroad, most notably playing the role of the ‘Maid Demons’ in Ainz’s first battle against ‘Jaldabaoth’ in the Holy Kingdom. Others had assignments elsewhere, playing roles that allowed them to investigate native technology, magic, trade, and politics, but they had all returned to participate in the festival.

Aura returned to his side, opting to stand at his shoulder. Ainz looked around for a performance schedule, but he couldn’t find any pamphlets lying around.

“What act are you most looking forward to?” Ainz asked.

“Hmm…the Evil Lords are putting on another dramatic production, so probably that.”

“I see…but shouldn’t they be in the fighting tournament rather than the talent portion?”

“There’s no rule that says they can’t enter the talent portion,” Aura replied. “Their acts for Nazarick Talent Night are super popular, too! I think people would be disappointed if they didn’t make a showing.”

Admittedly, Ainz did enjoy the performances of the Evil Lords. Their dramatic productions usually cast villainous masterminds as the protagonists, and the plot of each story had plenty of the deception, scheming, and manipulation that was expected of such characters. Personally, he thought the best part was that the ‘good guys’ were always built up before it was revealed to them that they were nothing more than puppets dancing in the palm of the protagonist’s hand.

“I suppose so,” Ainz said. “Oh, I heard that they were producing a series. Is that true?”

“It is!” Aura nodded excitedly, “The pilot for Dance of the Blind is today. Fool’s Conquest is being put on tomorrow. Which series they’ll do will depend on the audience’s reception.”

Light applause filled the air as Chacmool crawled to the conductor’s stand. The amorphous Heteromorph bowed deeply to Ainz before straightening to turn his eye stalks to the audience.

“It looks like a lot of people have too much time on their hands,” Chacmool sighed. “I suppose I should thank everyone for bothering to come. Our first act features Neuronist Painkill. I won’t fault anyone if they vomit during the performance.”

With that, Chacmool turned around and raised his baton with a bulbous pseudopod. The ceiling of the Sixth Floor dimmed and the clear skies were replaced by a field of stars as a single woodwind filled the air with a meandering melody. Cold white lighting illuminated Neuronist as she undulated onto the stage.

Wh-What in the world is this?

The rest of the Erich String Orchestra joined its soloist, playing a score that sounded like a chorus of tortured cats. Neuronist wobbled and swayed in rough time with the music, filling Ainz with an indescribable feeling. Then, to his great dismay, she stopped to dance in place directly in front of him.

Neuronist locked her intense gaze upon Ainz, the tentacles on her face whipping wildly as she writhed and jiggled her grey folds suggestively at him. He wished he had a stomach so he could vomit. Then, just when he thought it couldn’t get worse, Neuronist hooked a curved black fingernail on the strap of her leather bra…

Before she could yank off her top, the Brain Eater flopped onto the stage with a heavy thud.

“Foul!” Aura scowled as she lowered her bow, “That’s totally a foul! This act is cancelled!”

The Dark Elf frowned as Neuronist was dragged off of the stage. A pair of Homunculus Maids appeared to mop the stage clean after Neuronist was removed.

“Honestly,” Aura muttered, “why are Nazarick’s women all so…”

Ainz chuckled and patted Aura lightly on the head.

“You’re such a responsible girl,” he said. “That must be why I put you in charge of the others.”

“A-Ainz-sama,” Aura fidgeted under his touch, “I’m not a little kid! E-Everyone’s looking at us…”

The next act was a manzai routine between Sous Chef and Eclair, followed by a skit performed by a group of Homunculus Maids. By the time they reached the Evil Lords’ act at the end, the venue’s seating was packed.

Dramatic music rose from the orchestra and fiery lighting filled the stage. Illusion magic created the scene of a forest village set aflame and the first actor dashed into view.

A Gnoll? We don’t have any…ah, it must be one of our Doppelgangers.

The Gnoll drew a three-metre-tall war bow, sending an arrow the size of a scorpion bolt into the darkness.

“Is anyone alive?” She shouted, “Is–”

“Dyah!” A shorter Gnoll ran onto the stage.

“Herfor! Where are the others?”

“We’re fighting as best as we can,” Herfor said. “The Undead are everywhere!”

“What about the villagers?”

“They’re being escorted to the hills. The old and infirm insisted on staying behind to buy time.”

“The fools!” Dyah snarled, “Every corpse that we leave behind will be raised as an abomination that will hunt our people to the ends of the world!”

In the background, an illusory branch crashed into the ground in flames. Ainz leaned forward in his seat in anticipation.

“And what would you have them do, Matron?” Herfor shouted, “Limp away, dragging down our people until death and despair take us all? Better that they die proud in their purpose, giving nothing that the Undead crave!”

A low growl rose from Dyah’s throat. Her nose turned down as she looked at the blanket of ashes on the forest floor. Herfor placed a paw on her shoulder.

“We’ve done everything we can, my love,” Herfor said. “There was barely any warning! I can’t even think of where these Undead might have come from; our forest was always full of light and life!”

“And now it is full of flames and death,” Dyah spat. “Let’s–”

The Gnoll Matron froze, the rounded ears atop her head raised and alert. She drew an arrow from the quiver at her hip.

“They’re close,” Dyah said. “We should leave.”

“It is too late for that.”

A sterile voice sounded from above. Its rich dark robes fluttering in the fiery tempest, an Overlord floated down to stand before the two Gnolls. All around them, the figures of various Undead appeared through the smoke.

Oh, it’s Fulvius. They sure went out of their way to cast a lot of characters.

“The local Gnoll Matron, I presume,” Fulvius said. “You will make a fine addition to my collection.”

Herfor stepped in front of Dyah.

“Run, Dyah,” he said. “Our people need you and you’re strong enough to break through and escape. I’ll hold this bastard off!”

“Hold me off?” Fulvius’ tone rose by a notch, “Wretched mortal, is your mind so minuscule that you fail to comprehend the existence that stands before you?”

“The only thing I need to comprehend is that you’re a walking pile of unliving filth!” Herfor snarled, “Get out of here, Dyah!”

Despite Herfor’s urgings, Dyah remained frozen in place. Fulvius raised his arm, pointing a bony finger at Herfor.

“Die.”

Herfor collapsed. Fulvius turned his attention to Dyah, his robes sending up a swirl of cinders with every step.

“The ignorant fool,” he said. “He never noticed you were already paralysed by my powers. Now, what shall you serve me as? A Death Knight? A Dread Ghast? Or perhaps something more spectral would be more to your taste? So many options. Ah, but before any of that…suffer.”

Fulvius pressed his palm to Dyah’s abdomen. A strangled gasp rose from the Gnoll’s throat as she withered under the Overlord’s touch.

“Your people will perish,” Fulvius said. “All of them. Worry not, however: it is only natural. The goal of all life is death, after all.”

The Overlord reached out to inflict another negative energy drain on the helpless Gnoll. Then, a blade descended from on high, shattering Fulvius’ arm into a thousand fragments.

“What!” Fulvius recoiled.

“That’s as far as you go, abomination!”

On wings of darkness, the Evil Lord of Greed descended to land between Fulvius and Dyah. He yanked his scythe out of the ground, brandishing it against the Overlord with a flourish.

“Irweth!” He called out, “Ysvrith!”

A storm of black arrows rained from the sky, destroying the Undead army cutting off their escape. The figures of countless Gnolls emerged to replace them. Fulvius looked back and forth, then levelled his burning crimson gaze on the interloper.

“You…who are you?! There was no report of–”

The Evil Lord’s scythe separated the Overlord’s skull from his shoulders. His robe formed a dark puddle on the ground as his body fell.

“Obliteration is the only answer to the Undead,” the Evil Lord said.

With Fulvius’ fall, the effect holding Dyah in place was dispelled. The Gnoll fell weakly to the ground, her ragged breaths barely audible over the crackle of the flames. A Gnoll mystic came to administer treatment, and, a few moments later, Dyah pushed herself up on one arm. Despite just having been rescued, she looked up at her saviour with unveiled suspicion.

“A Demon?”

“I have been called that on many occasions,” the Evil Lord of Greed turned his blindfolded gaze on Dyah, then smiled, “but I would rather be addressed by my name. I am called Samael…and it appears that we share a common enemy.”