Two Mornings Later
Bathed in soft morning light filtering through the dense canopy, Momonga stretched her back.
Her generous chest rose subtly with the motion — but fortunately, no one was around to see it.
She packed away the Green Secret House, an item she used as a temporary base in the Great Forest of Tob, then hopped lightly onto a thick tree branch.
Her wings fluttered elegantly — tools she now handled as naturally as her limbs.
"…"
Leaves rustled gently.
Birds chirped.
The damp morning greenery shimmered in vibrant life.
Momonga sat alone.
Since arriving in this world, she realized, she had always been among others.
Not unwelcome… but now, breathing alone in the forest, she felt the value of this peaceful solitude.
After punishing Clementine, she had secluded herself in the forest to perform a series of tasks:
summoning, selecting, and testing minions to assign to the Bareare household.
Summons created from nothing had time limits.
But undead created from corpses did not.
Thus she trekked through the forest, locating suitable remains.
Her luck held — she stumbled upon a troll lair.
She hadn't wanted to harm any intelligent species, but the tribe of trolls was keen on eating her alive the moment they saw her.
That sealed their fate.
She destroyed the lair and transformed every corpse into useful undead.
The result:
stealth-oriented undead units, perfect for surveillance and defense.
Several undershadows lurked in her shadow now, ready to be deployed to E-Rantel.
The Bareare Pharmacy repairs, thankfully, were covered entirely by the bounty for capturing Clementine.
Which meant—
She was still utterly broke.
"Sigh… hope there's some decent work today."
She flicked her copper plate, then cast a spell and teleported to E-Rantel.
E-Rantel Adventurer's Guild
"…Hm?"
The moment Momonga pushed open the Guild doors, she sensed something off.
Everyone stared — as usual — but their expressions were different.
Not only suspicion and wariness…
Admiration.
Respect.
Longing.
(…Ah. Of course.)
(The Swords of Darkness.
They must've bragged about me to everyone in the guild.)
Some believed their story.
Most were skeptical.
"Lady Momon!"
Ishpen, the receptionist, hurried over.
"The Guildmaster is waiting for you in the reception room."
(There it is…)
She followed Ishpen to the meeting chamber.
As she walked, she could practically feel the exaggerated tales the Swords of Darkness must've fed the guild spreading like wildfire.
She'd need to review their "heroic retellings" later to correct the more absurd claims.
"Pardon me. I've brought Lady Momon."
"Enter."
Inside sat Ainzach, the Guildmaster — white beard, rugged physique, sharp eyes.
"Momon, thank you for coming. Please, sit."
His expression was strangely stiff —
not condescending, not superior…
but respectful.
Almost deferential.
Momonga sat gracefully.
"I am Ainzach, Guildmaster of E-Rantel."
"An honor to meet you, Guildmaster. I recently registered as an adventurer — I'm called Momon. May I ask what business you have with me?"
Ainzach took a sip of tea, eyeing her carefully.
He'd heard the rumors:
the beautiful woman in pitch-black armor.
An adventurer whose voice alone outshone jewels.
And now seeing her in person, he found none of the rumors exaggerated.
"…Let's get straight to the point. I called you here regarding the Zy'tl Q'ae incident — the world-ending magical tree."
Momonga nodded calmly.
"We've heard much from the Swords of Darkness. That you single-handedly felled a world-shaking monstrosity."
She waited silently.
Ainzach drank more tea, gathering his thoughts.
"I've assembled a squad of Mithril-ranked adventurers and intend to personally investigate the site of the battle."
"The Guildmaster himself?"
"If the story is true, this concerns the entire kingdom. I must confirm it with my own eyes."
He hesitated.
"…I do not mean to doubt you. But I hope you understand — such a tale strains belief. The other adventurers who heard the story feel the same."
Momon calmly answered:
"All I can offer is the truth: I destroyed the tree. The Swords of Darkness have unfortunately begun… idolizing me, so please take their words lightly. If you intend to see the battlefield yourself, that's for the best."
Ainzach nodded slowly.
"So you leave the judgment to us."
"Yes. And please consider that I did not defeat the tree through my strength alone. I simply possessed the right item for the situation. Without it, defeating that monster would have been impossible."
"That item… is it the sword you carry?"
"No. This."
She produced a glittering "Magic-Sealing Crystal," placing it before him.
Ainzach nearly choked.
"A… Magic-Sealing Crystal…? With—seven colors…?"
"It contains an 8th-tier spell. I destroyed the magical tree by forcefully unleashing one identical to this."
Ainzach's face grew pale.
An item worth more than kingdoms.
Used without hesitation to protect a village.
Her power was one thing—
but her willingness to spend such treasure for the sake of lives shook him.
He swallowed hard.
He glimpsed something divine in her.
Not merely strength.
But a heroism so pure it bordered on myth.
No wonder the Swords of Darkness worshipped her.
After confirming all he needed, Ainzach finally asked the question burning in his chest:
"…Lady Momon. Please continue to protect E-Rantel — no, humanity itself — with your strength."
"It is an honor simply to work among adventurers. Thank you."
"One more thing… do you dislike tea? I had this blend imported especially—"
Ainzach subtly shifted the conversation.
He wanted to see her face.
She realized it, and accepted.
This would make life easier —
being recognized as a human openly would help her in many ways.
She removed her helmet.
And the room froze.
Silky black hair tumbled free.
Her beauty — unearthly, intoxicating, divine — filled the chamber like perfume.
Ainzach's breath caught.
Ishpen nearly collapsed.
This was not beauty found among humans.
Not even among elves.
This was goddess-level allure.
When she lifted the tea cup to her lips, his hands trembled uncontrollably.
(…This face alone could topple a nation…)
Her quiet, gentle "Thank you. It's delicious," nearly stopped his heart.
From that moment onward—
neither Ainzach nor Ishpen remembered the rest of the conversation.
Their minds had melted under the weight of her presence.
Only the lingering fragrance of her hair proved the meeting happened at all.
"Is that woman truly… human?" Ainzach whispered afterward.
"…A goddess incarnate," Ishpen murmured.
And when Ainzach later saw the corpse of the magical tree with his own eyes—
he fainted from sheer awe.