The air screamed.
It was a sound like tearing canvas, magnified a thousand times, as the Platinum Dragon Lord's armor strafed sideways to avoid a spire of rock that erupted from the ground beneath him.
Fast, Tsaindorcus thought, the remote sensory link transmitting the vertigo of the maneuver instantly. Far faster than the Vampire.
"Oops! S-sorry!" Mare wailed from the cliff edge, slamming the butt of his staff into the ground again. "I missed! I'll try harder!"
The earth obeyed the child's tantrum. The entire cliff face fractured, turning into a crushing jaw of granite that snapped shut where the armor had been hovering milliseconds ago.
Dust exploded.
Tsaindorcus, piloting the platinum construct, accelerated upward. He didn't use mana to fly; the armor moved through sheer manipulation of magnetic fields and Wild Magic, silent and eerie.
"Don't ignore me!"
Aura was already in the air. She had leaped off a falling boulder, her body a red-and-gold blur. Her whip, Queen, lashed out. It wasn't just a strip of leather; it was a variable-state weapon that could extend and harden.
Snap.
The whip coiled around the armor's floating greatsword.
"Gotcha!" Aura grinned, yanking hard. With her Ranger stats and beast-tamer strength buffs, she had enough torque to uproot a tree.
The greatsword jerked, its telekinetic bond strained.
Analyze, Tsaindorcus commanded his own mind. Strength estimate: Level 90+. Speed: Comparable. Teamwork: Flawless.
He released the mental grip on the sword. Aura stumbled backward mid-air, momentum carrying her away as the sword went limp in her grasp.
It was a feint.
The floating hammer spun, transforming into a blurred disc of death, aiming not for Aura, but for the darker twin on the ground.
"Mare, duck!" Aura shouted.
Mare didn't duck. He looked up, his mismatched eyes wide and teary. He raised one gloved hand as if shielding his eyes from the sun.
"Wall of Stone."
Not a wall. A mountain range in miniature. A slab of rock ten meters thick burst from the soil instantly.
BOOM.
The hammer impacted. Stone chips flew like shrapnel, shredding the nearby trees. The impact was heavy enough to liquefy a normal human's organs, but the wall held.
Tsaindorcus hovered high above the dust cloud. The tactical situation was grim. He was testing the waters, hoping to draw out the Sorcerer King, but these two subordinates... they were catastrophes in human skin.
They have World Class Items, he realized, sensing the distinct void in the fabric of the world around them. My Wild Magic containment field can't lock them down. The 'World Separator' is useless.
"Hey! Canless! Or whatever you're called!" Aura yelled from a tree branch. She dropped the captured sword; it clanged uselessly on the rocks. "Is that all? Ainz-sama said you were strong. Are you holding back? That's rude!"
Tsaindorcus didn't answer. He raised the remaining weapons—spear, katana, and hammer—into a cruciform guard.
"Megiddo Barrier."
He didn't cast it to trap them. He cast it to buy time.
Because he felt it. The tear in reality behind the battle lines. The signature of the Theocracy's "trump card."
Nazarick – 9th Floor – The Master's Room
Ainz Ooal Gown was pacing.
If his walking could wear down the floor, he would have dug a trench into the 8th floor by now.
Floating. Just float. It looks more majestic.
He forced himself into a drift, watching the magically projected monitor in the center of the room. It displayed the battle via a [Remote Viewing] spell cast by a summoned Eye of the Corpse.
"They're fighting the Platinum Dragon Lord," Ainz muttered to the empty room. "Why is he there? He sits in the Council State! That's hundreds of kilometers away! Does he have a fast travel point there?"
He bit his lip—metaphorically.
The last time he encountered that armor (via Pandora's Actor), he had gathered data. Physical attack focus. High resistance to magic. Weakness to armor-piercing melee.
But Ainz was paranoid. What if the armor Pandora fought was a fake? What if this version had a second phase?
"Satoru, think," he whispered. "If Aura and Mare die, you can resurrect them. We have the gold. Billions of coins. But if they lose their World Items... those are gone forever."
Panic flared.
If PDL captures them. If he steals the 'Depiction of Nature and Society' or 'Avarice and Generosity'... the guild will be weakened. The NPCs will look at me and see a leader who sends children to be mugged.
He gripped the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown. The divine artifact pulsed, warm and reassuring.
"I have to go," Ainz decided. "I have to back them up."
But wait.
What if this is a trap? What if the Theocracy knows I'm watching? They attacked the Elf Kingdom to lure me out. Now they engage my strongest area-of-effect Guardians. They want Ainz Ooal Gown on the field.
Why?
"The Downfall of Castle and Country," Ainz said, the realization hitting him like a Maximized [Iceball].
If he teleported there, and the Black Scripture was hiding under a camouflage spell... bang. Mind control. Game over.
"I need a meat shield," Ainz muttered. "No, a strategic buffer."
He tapped his collar.
"Cocytus."
"LORD. AINZ." The voice was cold and jagged, like ice crushing bone.
"Change of plans. Abandon the northern advance. Gate to Mare's location immediately."
"UNDERSTOOD. SHALL. I. BRING. THE. LEGION?"
"No," Ainz said, his eyes fixed on the monitor where the Dragon Lord's armor was currently glowing with blinding platinum light. "Bring the Kings."
"THE... KINGS?"
"The summons," Ainz clarified. "I want you to use the scroll from the Library of Ashurbanipal. The Level 85 Primal Elementals. Drop them directly on top of the enemy."
"IT. WILL. BE. DONE."
Ainz terminated the connection. He sat on his bed—a massive, canopy affair he never slept in—and stared at his skeletal hands.
"Caution," he told himself. "Caution is not cowardice. Punitto Moe taught us that. Information is life."
He stood up, walking to the wardrobe. He began to strip off his divine robes.
"Time to dress for work," he sighed. "I hate PVP."
The Slane Theocracy – Deep Beneath the Cathedral
The Vault of the Six Great Gods was less a room and more a sealed abyss.
It was cold here. A supernatural chill that gnawed at the spirit. The walls were covered in runes that hurt the eyes if you stared at them too long—tier magic script written by gods six centuries dead.
The Pontifex Maximus stood on a viewing platform, watching the massive containment seal below. Cardinal Raymond stood beside him, clutching a prayer beads so hard the string was about to snap.
"Are you sure, Your Holiness?" Raymond whispered. "Once the beast wakes, it won't distinguish between enemy and ally until its hunger is sated."
"We have no allies left," the Pontifex replied, his voice flat. "The Elves are broken. The Kingdom is dust. The Empire is a vassal state to the undead. We stand alone."
Below them, inside a cage of shimmering hard-light magic, something stirred.
It was massive. The size of a two-story house.
It wasn't just an animal. It was a chimera of biology and machinery, a remnant of Yggdrasil's late-game expansion content—the "Biomechanical Beast" packs.
Project Code: Cainable.
New World Designation: The Calamity Tiger.
Its body was encased in black adamantite plating, pulsating with orange mana veins. Its head was feline but distorted, with three rows of teeth and eyes that burned with artificial intelligence targeting optics.
On its back mounted a twin-linked rail cannon that utilized compressed mana crystals as ammunition.
"It requires a target designator," the Pontifex said. He handed a small crystal shard to the Captain of the Black Scripture, who stood silently in the shadows. "You will deliver this to the battle zone. Get close to the Dark Elves. Throw it."
The Captain, a man whose strength rivaled that of the Dragon Lords, nodded. He didn't look happy. He looked resigned.
"And Zesshi?" the Captain asked.
"Forget her," the Pontifex snapped. "She failed. If this beast kills the Twins, the Sorcerer King will be forced to reveal his hand. He will come to resurrect them. And then..."
He looked at the tapestry on the far wall. The image of the God of Death, Surshana.
"Then we use the Relic. The 'Longinus'."
Raymond gasped. "The World Item? But that exchanges the user's existence! It erases both target and user from reality! Who would..."
The Pontifex looked at Raymond. Then he looked at the Captain.
"We all serve the Theocracy," the Pontifex said gently. "If Ainz Ooal Gown can be erased from existence, is there any price too high?"
A mechanical roar shook the cavern. The Tiger was awake.
The Battlefield – The Edge of the Crater
The fight had stalemated, which in Level 100 terms meant the landscape was being reshaped every three seconds.
Tsaindorcus was struggling.
Impossible, the Dragon Lord thought as he parried a strike from Aura's whip that cracked the sound barrier. They have infinite stamina. They don't tire. Their coordination is increasing.
The twins were getting used to his attack patterns.
"Left!" Aura barked.
Mare didn't even look. He slammed his staff right.
CLANG.
The invisible hammer was blocked perfectly.
"You're boring!" Aura shouted, leaping onto the armor's back. She kicked the helmet, the force creating a shockwave that flattened the surrounding grass. "Is this all a Dragon Lord can do? I expected fire! Or Wild Magic lasers!"
Tsaindorcus spun the armor, dislodging her, but she landed gracefully on a floating piece of debris Mare had levitated.
"He's stalling," Mare said softly. The shy stutter was gone. His eyes were cold and analyzing. "Aura. He's not trying to kill us. He's waiting."
"Waiting for what?"
The sky tore open.
Not a Gate. Not the clean, magical aperture of Nazarick magic. This was crude spatial rending.
High above the crater, a dark shape fell. It was heavy—so heavy the air whistled as it plummeted.
BOOM.
It landed between the Armor and the Twins. The impact created a secondary crater inside the first one.
Steam hissed from vents in the black plating. Orange eyes illuminated. The dual cannons on its back swiveled with a mechanical whir.
The Calamity Tiger. Level 85. Not a threat to a prepared Guardian.
But to a distracted one?
"Target Locked," a synthesized voice spoke from the beast's throat. "Designation: Non-Human. Type: Elf. Priority: Eliminate."
"A kitty!" Aura blinked. "It's ugly."
"It's... constructs," Mare squinted. "Like Shizu?"
"Attack!" the Pontifex's voice amplified through a magic crystal embedded in the Tiger's skull.
The cannons fired.
Beams of condensed heat, Tier 10 equivalent damage, screamed across the gap.
"Petty!" Mare waved his hand. "Dragon Earth!"
A shield of earth rose up, but the beams punched right through, melting the rock to slag. Mare yelped, diving aside as molten granite sprayed his vest.
"Armor piercing?" Aura hissed. "Okay, now I'm mad."
But before she could whistle for her beasts, the Tiger moved. It used [Hyper-Acceleration]. One moment it was still; the next, it was mid-air, claws extended, aimed at Mare's throat.
It was fast. Faster than the Armor.
Mare raised his staff, but the angle was bad. He was off-balance.
Tsaindorcus saw the opening. Now.
The Platinum Armor engaged its thrusters. The sword, spear, and hammer aligned. He wasn't attacking the Tiger. He was coordinating with it. A pincer maneuver.
One beast of metal, one armor of magic. Closing in on the boy.
"Mare!" Aura screamed, lunging forward.
She wouldn't make it.
The Tiger's claws were inches from Mare's face. The Dragon Lord's weapons were targeting his dodge routes.
It was a checkmate.
And then, the temperature dropped to absolute zero.
crack.
A wall of ice didn't rise from the ground. It slammed down from the sky.
A massive pillar of blue-white glaciated perfection crushed the Tiger into the mud. The beast screeched as 40 tons of magically reinforced ice pinned it like an insect.
A heavy, chitinous foot stepped onto the ice block.
"A. FLANKING. MANEUVER?"
Mist curled from blue mandibles. Four arms held four weapons, each glowing with the cold light of the frozen hell of the 5th Floor.
Cocytus stood tall, breathing visible frost into the hot air.
"AGAINST. A. CHILD?" Cocytus looked at the floating Platinum Armor. "YOU. HAVE. ABANDONED. YOUR. WARRIOR'S. HONOR. DRAGON."
"Cocytus!" Mare scrambled up, wiping mud from his cheek. "You came!"
"COMMAND. FROM. LORD. AINZ," Cocytus rumbled, not taking his eyes off the enemy. "TRASH. COLLECTION."
"Another one," Tsaindorcus thought, backing the armor away. The insect warrior. High physical offense. The elemental advantage against my armor... isn't great, but he's fresh.
The Tiger underneath Cocytus's foot roared, its servos whining as it tried to lift the ice.
"SILENCE," Cocytus said.
He raised the God-Slaying Emperor Blade.
"Ice Pillar Fall."
He drove the katana down. Through the ice. Through the plating. Through the beast's core.
The Tiger convulsed. The mana crystals shattered. It died without an explosion—just a spark and a cessation of movement.
One shot.
"Weak," Cocytus judged, pulling his blade free. He flicked the black oil off the steel. "A. TOY."
Tsaindorcus felt a cold sweat on his real body, miles away.
He had expected a fight. He hadn't expected them to treat a relic of the Six Gods like a nuisance.
"Retreat is logical," Tsaindorcus whispered to himself. "The intel is gathered."
But as he engaged the retreat sequence, the sky went black.
Not night. Black.
The clouds swirled into a funnel directly above the battlefield. A presence descended that made Cocytus, Aura, and Mare immediately drop to one knee.
The Platinum Armor froze. The pressure was intense. It felt like gravity had doubled.
"Well done, Guardians."
Ainz Ooal Gown floated down.
But he wasn't wearing his robe. He was wearing... full plate armor? Dark, obsidian armor with gold trim, holding a massive twin-axe and a shield on his back.
"Momon?" Aura whispered, confused.
"Hush," Mare nudged her.
Ainz landed softly. He didn't look at his Guardians. He looked directly at the Platinum Armor.
Internal Monologue: Okay, okay, stick to the script. Don't look at the dead tiger thing. Don't look at the exploded landscape. Look at the shiny armor. Intimidate him. Make him leave so we can go home.
"You," Ainz pointed a gauntleted finger. His voice was projected, deepened by magic to sound like the doom of worlds. "You are the one who has been bothering my children."
Tsaindorcus felt the power radiating off the figure. It wasn't mana. It was purely warrior aura.
He can switch classes? The Dragon Lord realized with horror. He's not just a caster? He's a warrior too? Perfect Warrior capability?
"I am the Platinum Dragon Lord," the armor spoke, though the voice sounded tinny compared to Ainz's. "Sorcerer King. Your expansion ends here."
Ainz took a step forward.
"Expansion?" Ainz tilted his helmeted head. "I came here for a vacation. You killed the Elf King. You destroyed the local ecosystem."
He spread his arms.
"And then you dropped a metal cat on my kid."
Ainz activated a skill: [Despair Aura V]. Instant death effect for low levels, Fear status for high levels.
The air shimmered purple.
"You speak of protecting the world," Ainz stepped closer. "But you are the one filling it with wreckage."
Tsaindorcus felt the Wild Magic in his armor trembling. The sheer malicious intent was disrupting the control link.
I can't win this, Tsaindorcus analyzed. Not here. Not 4 vs 1.
"This is not over, Player," Tsaindorcus said.
"Correct," Ainz replied. "Because next time, I'm bringing the whole guild."
It was a bluff. A terrified bluff because Ainz was scared of fighting alone.
But to Tsaindorcus, it was a declaration that other Level 100s were waiting in the shadows.
The Platinum Armor blurred and vanished, teleporting away using Wild Magic.
Ainz held his pose for ten seconds.
Twenty seconds.
"Is... is he gone?" Ainz asked, his voice cracking slightly inside his helmet.
"He fled in terror, Ainz-sama!" Aura cheered, jumping up. "He saw your magnificence and ran like a scared rabbit!"
"INDEED," Cocytus nodded. "THE. SUPREME. ONE'S. PRESENCE. IS. ABSOLUTE."
"Umu," Ainz nodded sagely.
Thank God, Satoru screamed internally. I forgot to equip my resurrection ring! If he attacked, I would have had to rely on my Warrior skills, and I haven't practiced parrying in three months!
He looked at the wreckage of the mechanical tiger.
"Take that thing back to Nazarick," Ainz ordered, pointing at the scrap metal. "Demiurge might find it... educational."
"Yes!" The Guardians chorused.
Ainz looked toward the horizon, toward the Slane Theocracy.
"And Aura?"
"Yes, Lord Ainz?"
"The sinkholes," Ainz gestured vaguely. "You only made one."
"Oh! Right!" Aura kicked a pebble. "That rude armor interrupted us."
Ainz waved his hand, a generous gesture.
"Finish the job. Two more holes. Make them deep."
As the twins scrambled to resume the demolition of the landscape, Ainz sighed. He felt tired. Bone deep tired.
Being an Overlord is exhausting.
Interlude: The Treasury of Kami-Miyako
While the Dragon Lord fought and fled, a shadow moved through the deepest sanctum of the Slane Theocracy's Treasury.
The Hanzo paused.
The alarms outside were blaring. The entire city was in panic due to the earthquake at the border. The guards had rushed to the walls.
Perfect.
The demon rifled through a chest of gold coins, ignoring them. Trash. Trash.
He opened an ornate box made of dragon bone.
Inside, resting on red velvet, was a small, unassuming book. It looked like a notebook. Leather-bound.
The Hanzo opened it. The language was Japanese.
It was a diary.
Day 450: The natives are learning. But they are so fragile. I miss the guild. I miss the raiding nights. Are the servers still up? - Surshana.
The Hanzo closed the book. This wasn't a Guild Weapon. But Lady Albedo had been specific. Anything proving the existence of the others.
A first-hand account of a Player suffering from isolation.
The Hanzo slipped the book into his shadow-pocket.
He moved to the next pedestal.
There was a ring. It radiated magic that made the Hanzo's skin crawl.
It wasn't a World Item. But it bore a crest.
A crest of a red screaming face.
Nishikienrai.
One of the Forty-One. Ainz Ooal Gown's guild member.
Why was it here?
The Hanzo didn't question. He secured the ring.
"Target acquired," he whispered to the empty room. "Returning to Shadow."
He melted into the floor just as the heavy doors burst open. The Black Scripture burst in, looking for intruders.
They found nothing but an open box and a lingering scent of sulfur.
Epilogue: A Mother's Love
Albedo sat in her room. The scythe was gone.
On her table lay a report from the Hanzo unit. They were en route back.
"Nishikienrai's ring," she whispered, her voice trembling with ecstasy. "And Surshana's diary."
She picked up her quill.
"The Theocracy had them. They killed Nishikienrai. They must have. How else would they have his ring?"
It was a lie she told herself to justify what she was about to do. But in her madness, a lie repeated often enough becomes truth.
"Ainz-sama..." she moaned, hugging herself, her wings wrapping around her body like a cocoon. "I will cleanse them. I will erase every trace of the ones who abandoned you."
"And then... you will be mine. Only mine."
She looked at the flag of Ainz Ooal Gown hanging on her wall.
With a slow, deliberate movement, she burned the corner of it with a candle.
Just a little burn. Just to test.
"The Slane Theocracy dies first," Albedo decided. "Then the Dragon Lords."
She blew out the candle. Smoke filled the room, smelling of sweet ruin.
"And then... the search for the remaining Supreme Beings begins in earnest."
She smiled in the dark.
"So I can kill them all."