The void screamed.
It was a soundless vibration that rattled Ainz Ooal Gown's skeletal frame. The conceptual chains of the Deep Darkness Dragon Lord (Chain of the Coffined Soul) tightened, biting into his divine-class robes, seeking the essence of the soul beneath.
"Give up," the darkness hissed. "Wild Magic denies your Yggdrasil logic. You cannot teleport. You cannot move. You are meat in a spider's web."
Ainz stood paralyzed in the grey fog.
Internal Monologue: Okay, Satoru, breathe. No lungs, right. But panic is rising. He's right. My [Fly] spell is active but I'm not moving. [Greater Teleportation] failed. This is bad. This is a PK (Player Killer) trap setup.
But then he remembered Pandora's Actor. Alone. Facing the Mind Control World Item.
If they take Pandora... if they turn my own creation, my own child, against me...
A different kind of cold washed over him. It wasn't the panic of Satoru Suzuki. It was the absolute, possessive ice of Ainz Ooal Gown, Ruler of the Great Tomb.
"Yggdrasil logic?" Ainz repeated, his voice low and vibrating with menace.
He lifted the red orb from his chest. The Orb of Momonga.
It was an item he rarely touched. In Yggdrasil, it was a specialized tool, useless against 90% of players but devastating in specific raid encounters. The flavor text was edgy nonsense about "consuming the heart of the ancient beast."
"You Dragons assume this world belongs to you because you were here first," Ainz stated.
The Red Orb began to pulse. A heartbeat of crimson light pushed back the grey fog.
"But in Yggdrasil," Ainz continued, clutching the orb so hard stress fractures appeared on his finger bones, "we hunted things like you for skins."
"What is that?" The Deep Darkness Dragon Lord recoiled. The chains of darkness sizzled like bacon grease hitting a hot pan.
"This?" Ainz held the orb high. "This is a World Item. Its name is irrelevant. Its function is... specific."
Ability Activation: draconic Essence Drain.
WHOOSH.
There was no explosion. Instead, the void turned red.
The grey fog of the Wild Magic didn't dissipate; it was eaten. The atmosphere swirled into a vortex, funneling directly into the red sphere in Ainz's hand.
And with it, the Dragon Lord screamed.
"AAAAIIIIIEEE!"
The massive, rotting dragon form of the DDDL convulsed. It wasn't pain. It was subtraction.
"My scales!" The dragon thrashed. "My mana! What are you doing?!"
"You wanted to trap me?" Ainz asked, floating upward as the chains turned to black dust. The Despair Aura was gone, replaced by an Aura of Gluttony. "Then pay the toll."
Ainz checked his MP bar. It was filling. Overflowing.
"Triple Maximize Magic: [Reality Slash]."
RIIIIP.
Three jagged wounds opened in the dragon's chest. Black blood—liquid shadow—sprayed into the void.
"Impossible!" The dragon shrieked, scuttling backward into the dissolving fog. "It counters Wild Magic?! That sphere—it dominates the World Soul?!"
"I am Ainz Ooal Gown," Ainz roared, pointing his free hand. "[Maximize Magic: Black Hole]!"
A gravity well opened inside the dragon's wing.
"Retreat!" the DDDL howled. "Platinum! The plan has failed! He is a Nemesis! A Natural Enemy!"
The shadows collapsed. The Deep Darkness Dragon Lord didn't fight to the death; he did what he did best. He hid. He folded himself into a pinpoint of non-existence and fled the dimension, shattering the Mirror World as he went.
Crack.
The grey sky shattered like a glass ceiling. Real sunlight—harsh and filled with smoke—blinded Ainz.
He was back over the capital.
Did I win? Ainz wondered, staring at the empty air. He just... ran away? Man, for a 'Dragon Lord', he has no spine.
[Emotion Suppression]
Right. Pandora.
Ainz looked down. He didn't teleport. He simply deactivated Fly and let gravity take him. He fell like a meteor toward the sewer district.
The Sewers – Chamber of the Ritual
"Shoot him!"
The cultist leader screamed the order.
Pandora's Actor, transformed into Touch Me, held his "World Champion" pose. His shimmering silver armor reflected the torchlight.
"Justice Has Arrived!" he bellowed in Touch Me's heroic voice. "And it is very disappointed in your hygiene!"
Bluff Check.
The girl holding the Downfall of Castle and Country hesitated. Her hands were shaking. The figure in front of her radiated overwhelming pressure. Was this another Player?
"Do it, you stupid girl!" the leader shoved her.
She gasped and leveled the World Item. The dress billowed, and a beam of mind-twisting light shot forward.
There was no dodging in the narrow tunnel.
Pandora's Actor dropped the pose.
I have no World Item, PA thought, time seemingly slowing down. Father needs me. If I am taken...
His logic circuits fired a binary decision.
Self-Termination.
He began to shift his form, aiming to dissolve into his base Doppelganger goop, effectively 'killing' his consciousness before it could be enslaved.
"Es tut mir leid, Vater," he whispered.
The beam was inches from his face.
CRASH.
The ceiling didn't just cave in; it was obliterated.
A figure wrapped in black full-plate armor dropped from the street level above, shattering the stone floor and creating a shockwave that threw the cultists against the walls.
The beam of the World Item hit a black tower shield.
The light flared... and did nothing.
World Item Immunity.
"Albedo-sama?" PA reverted to his uniform, eyes wide.
Albedo stood up from the crater. She wasn't wearing her white dress. She was in her combat gear, Hermes Trismegistus. The World Item, Ginnungagap, was in its axe form in her right hand. Her helmet was off, revealing a face twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated rage.
"You aim that filthy rag," Albedo hissed, her voice low and distorted by fury, "at my Treasury Administrator?"
The girl with the dress shrieked and scrambled back. "Demon!"
"Succubus," Albedo corrected.
She didn't dash. She blurred.
The cultist leader exploded into a red mist as Albedo simply walked through him, her armor acting as a battering ram.
She reached the girl.
"Protect the asset!" The remaining Black Scripture guards lunged, weapons glowing with Holy Fire.
Albedo swung her axe. Horizontal cleave.
Three heads hit the sewer water.
"Mine," Albedo snarled, reaching for the dress.
Suddenly, a blinding flash of white light erupted from the girl's feet. Teleportation magic? No—Wild Magic escape protocol.
"No you don't!" Albedo grabbed the hem of the Downfall.
The girl vanished. The dress vanished.
But in Albedo's hand remained a scrap of fabric. A torn piece of the legendary World Item.
Silence returned to the sewer, save for the dripping of slime and blood.
"PA," Albedo said without turning around.
"Y-Yes, Albedo-sama! Your timing was impeccable! truly a dramatic entrance worthy of the Opera House in-"
"Shut up."
Albedo turned. Her golden eyes scanned him up and down.
"Did they compromise you?"
"No! I am untouched!"
"Good." She looked at the scrap of fabric in her hand. "The item is damaged. They escaped, but the Dress is compromised. It won't work properly until repaired."
She threw the scrap into the muck.
"Ainz-sama has freed himself from the Dragon trap," Albedo said, looking up at the hole in the ceiling where sunlight streamed down. "I felt his anger. It was... intoxicating."
She deployed her wings, knocking over a structural pillar.
"Come, Actor. The looting phase is over. It is time for the razing."
The Mirror World – Forest Sector
Mare stood on his floating island of obsidian. He was panting slightly.
Around him, the Mirror World was cracking. Shards of blue sky were falling like hail, dissolving into mana as they hit the ground.
The Mirror Dragon Lord lay broken amidst the wreckage. Its glass-like scales were shattered. One wing was torn off.
It was trying to crawl into a reflection in a puddle of water.
"Wait," Mare said politely.
He walked over, tapping the butt of his staff on the ground. A vine of rock shot up, wrapping around the dragon's neck and dragging it back.
"You can't leave," Mare said, tilting his head. His expression was innocent, which made it infinitely worse. "You broke Ainz-sama's sky."
"Mercy!" the Dragon gasped. "I surrender! I will join the Sorcerer Kingdom! I will serve!"
Mare paused. He looked thoughtful.
"Serve?"
"Yes! I know secrets! I know where the Platinum Dragon Lord hides! I know-"
"Ummm," Mare scratched his ear. "But... Ainz-sama already has a dragon. And Aura has lots of pets."
He looked at the Mirror Dragon.
"You're too sparkly," Mare decided. "You'd clash with the décor."
The dragon's eyes widened. "Wait-"
"Besides," Mare smiled shyly. "If I let you live, Albedo will yell at me."
"Petite Catastrophe."
He didn't unleash the full wave. Just a pulse.
The dragon crystallized into white energy and shattered.
Mare stood amidst the falling glitter of a dead Level 95 Dragon Lord. He checked his clothes.
"Oh no," he murmured, brushing off a speck of dust. "My skirt is dirty. Ainz-sama gave me this skirt."
The world around him dissolved fully. The illusion faded.
Mare fell back into the real sky, right above the capital. He cast [Fly] expertly, hovering next to a pillar of smoke.
"Time to find Sis," he said, adjusting his gloves.
Kami-Miyako – The Central Crater
The battle was essentially over.
With the leadership decapitated (literally and metaphorically), the dragon lords fleeing, and the walls breached, the Slane Theocracy's army had routed.
But "routing" against Nazarick just meant dying tired.
The Death Knights were hunting in packs now.
Ainz hovered over the ruins of the Cathedral. The Guardians gathered around him.
Shalltear looked disheveled but thrilled, holding a severed arm that probably belonged to a Black Scripture member.
Cocytus had returned from the dimensional banishment, covered in frost and dragon blood.
Aura and Mare floated down, holding hands.
Albedo and PA arrived from the ground level.
"Report," Ainz said. He sounded tired.
"The enemy leadership has been liquidated," Demiurge announced, appearing in a flash of flames. "The Black Scripture survivors have fled using an unknown mass teleportation—likely the Platinum Dragon Lord's work. We have captured forty thousand soldiers. The rest are... recyclable material."
"The Dress?" Ainz asked, looking at PA.
"Damaged and retreated, Father," PA reported, bowing. "Albedo-sama secured my safety."
"I see." Ainz let out a breath he didn't hold. They survived. We survived.
He looked down at the city. It was a wreck. A smoldering testament to what happens when you poke a sleeping lich.
"Ainz-sama," Albedo stepped forward. "What are your orders for the populace? The three million refugees? The citizens?"
Ainz looked at the masses huddling in the ruins of the lower districts. They were staring up at him in terror.
He remembered the anger he felt about the stolen items. About Bellriver's scythe. Nishikienrai's ring. Lucifer's Cube.
But looking at the shivering humans, the anger felt... distant.
Satoru Suzuki: Just kill the soldiers. Let the people go. It's enough. We made the point.
Ainz Ooal Gown: Leaving enemies behind is dangerous. They will breed hatred.
He made a compromise.
"They saw us," Ainz announced. "They saw our power. They saw their gods fail."
He raised his staff.
"Demiurge."
"Yes!"
"Take the able-bodied men. Send them to the Sorcerer Kingdom as labor for the E-Rantel reconstruction projects. And your... farm."
Demiurge beamed. "Of course."
"The women and children," Ainz gestured broadly. "Let them leave."
"Leave?" Albedo frowned. "To where?"
"Anywhere. Let them scatter to the other Kingdoms. Let them tell the story."
Ainz turned his back on the burning city.
"Let them tell the world that the Theocracy is dead. And that Ainz Ooal Gown is the only God left."
"Sasuga!" the Guardians chorused.
"Wait," Albedo interjected. "What about the structure itself? The buildings? The temples?"
Ainz looked at the ruins of the Six Great Gods' legacy.
"Burn it," he said. "Every brick. I want a parking lot here by next month."
Interlude: The Council of the Dead
Far away, in the Floating City of Erygenthar.
Tsaindorcus (Platinum Dragon Lord) sat on his throne. He was shaking.
Around him, the Council was in chaos.
"He ate my magic!" The Deep Darkness Dragon Lord was ranting, his shadow form flickering. "He has an Orb that eats the Soul! We cannot fight him head-on!"
"The Theocracy is gone," the Swordmaster Dragon Lord rumbled. "Humanity's buffer is broken."
"Good," Tsaindorcus said.
The room went silent.
"Good?" The Brightness Dragon Lord scowled. "We just lost our biggest pawn!"
"We didn't lose," Tsaindorcus stood up. "We just confirmed the winning condition."
He walked to the window.
"He spared the civilians."
The dragons blinked. "So? Weakness?"
"No. Arrogance." Tsaindorcus smiled grimly. "And a connection to humanity."
He turned back to the Council.
"Ainz Ooal Gown still thinks like a human. He has sentimentality. He protected the Doppelganger at the cost of capturing the Dress. He spared the weak to send a message."
Tsaindorcus clenched his fist.
"He is not a force of nature. He is a man. And a man can be broken."
"How?"
"We don't fight his armies anymore," Tsaindorcus said. "We target his mind. We target what he loves."
He looked at a map of the continent.
"It's time to call the one entity Ainz Ooal Gown fears."
"Who?"
"There is a rumor," Tsaindorcus whispered. "Of a player who arrived two hundred years ago. Who never died. Who just... sleeps in the sea."
The dragons gasped. "The Minotaur Sage?"
"No," Tsaindorcus shook his head. "Older. The one who killed the Demon Gods."
"We wake the Sleeper," Tsaindorcus commanded. "If Ainz brings Hell... we bring the Abyss."
End of Arc 1: The Theocracy Falls
The Slane Theocracy ceased to exist as a political entity that day.
Ainz Ooal Gown returned to Nazarick, exhausted, holding two recovered items of his old friends. He sat on his Throne, the Guardians cheering his name.
But as he looked at Nishikienrai's ring, Ainz felt a hollowness.
I won, he thought. But I still feel alone.
He looked at Albedo. She was smiling at him.
"Ainz-sama, we found more traces," she said softly. "The Hanzo squad reports finding a map in the ruins. A map to a Sea City."
Ainz looked up.
"A Sea City?"
"Yes. It bears the mark of... Touch Me."
Ainz sat up straight. The exhaustion vanished.
"Touch Me? Are you sure?"
"The crest is unmistakable."
Hope. That dangerous, terrible thing. It flared in his chest again.
"Prepare the ship," Ainz ordered.
The Guardians knelt.
"Season Two starts now," Ainz muttered to himself.
And somewhere in the dark, Albedo gripped her axe, her smile never wavering, while mentally adding Touch Me to her kill list.