Zuranon Headquarters, five years before Ainz Ooal Gown
Khajiit Dale Badantel walked down the decrepit hallway of Zuranon's headquarters, his staff tapping against the floor as it worked as an impromptu walking stick. Despite his lifetime efforts, he had yet to achieve lichdom, and he was feeling the effects that came with old age.
He sighed, nodding to two acolytes he passed. They bowed to him, keeping their faces obscured in the darkness of their hoods. Their robes were bare, with no embroidery or decorations to signify the history of their wearer.
They are very new, recently inducted, those two. I wonder which of the executives brought in those if they're able to so freely walk these halls without a master?
Zuranon made it a habit to allow an extremely finite number of people to enter its halls, both as a safety precaution and as a sign of exclusivity. Not just any necromancer could walk the grounds of their headquarters.
There were a variety of bases and locations where the regular members of Zuranon lived, either in the ruins of destroyed cities or in the outside fringes of villages, where anonymity was easy to come by.
The location of the main headquarters where the twelve executives of Zuranon, Khajiit included, was a closely-guarded secret. Should a member with the location memorized be captured in any way, there were magical failsafe to have themselves killed should their mind be probed for the information.
At the end of Khajiit's path was an iron door, reinforced with enchantments against eavesdropping and unauthorized entering. His presence was automatically detected by the magic of the door, and it swung silently on its hinges to grant him access.
Throwing on his hood, the old necromancer slipped inside. The heavy door shut behind him, bathing him in countless shadows that were only beaten back by the dim torches on either side of the hall at regular intervals.
After walking a bit further through the pitch darkness, he heard voices straight ahead, those of his fellow executives. He pondered what it was that they were discussing, but he already had a hunch about what today's topic would be.
Finally, he entered an expansive, circular room that was marginally brighter than the hallway. A crystal chandelier high above provided barely enough light, and more torches surrounded the perimeter of the room with that same dull fire.
It appeared he was the second-to-last to arrive, as the head executive was still not there. His fellow executives stood inside marked circles outlined in chalk on the ground, pillars of stone between them. Inside each pillar was a violet orb that pulsed with mana, which helped to amplify their voices so they could be heard clearly.
Khajiit took his place, smoothing down his robes and adjusting his skull necklace. The executive to his left turned to face him, nodding politely.
"Khajiit. I trust your journey to the headquarters was a safe one?"
"More boring than anything else," he replied. "With all the efforts I take to remain hidden, nothing truly exciting happens along such trips, Raksus."
"Ah, perhaps then if you took on two acolytes, as you should have, they would provide you the necessary entertainment you so seek, my old friend," Raksus said, his mustache curving up with his lips in a rare smile.
"Why should I, when my path is to lead to lichdom itself?" the decrepit man asked, "I have no use for acolytes beyond servants, and servants I can easily acquire from any nearby coven, or raise them myself."
Raksus grunted. "Even still, you know it is tradition to have at least two apprentices. One shall be your successor, and the other your successor's advisor. How you ever managed yourself without one from your acolyte years all this time is beyond me."
Khajiit waved off his fellow executive, dismissing the indirect jab. While comradery was a rarity among the members of Zuranon, it was still considered a brotherhood of sorts for aspiring necromancers and would-be liches.
Of all the executives within Zuranon, Raksus was the only one who Khajiit would consider close to a friend. All other executives were professionally courteous, nothing more. Whenever the twelve executives were called to a meeting, they would converse and catch up, should time permit.
Teamwork and cooperation between covens were encouraged, which was a bit of a far cry from their allies, the Corpus of the Abyss, far down in the neighboring ruins of a country known as Inveria. Indeed, both organizations strove towards similar goals, and they shared a chief patron to help unify them in their pursuits.
Initially, both groups would have never interacted with one another, if only because while they shared similar goals, the Corpus of the Abyss were a collection of haughty, arrogant liches and night liches.
Zuranon had its share of lich members, the head executive being a lich himself, but the Corpus of the Abyss believed themselves far superior due to being composed of only liches. It also didn't help relations when members of Zuranon came to realize that the ancient organization they called allies were once their hunters, seeking to steal their ancestor's potent magical ability for their purposes.
Raksus pointed towards the head of the table, catching Khajiit's attention. "It is time. The bell tolls for us all."
True to his friend's word, the lead executive of Zuranon had arrived, trailed by his two acolytes. They stood behind him while he situated himself, his blood-red robes shimmering in the minimal light.
Out of his robes was produced a hand-held iron bell and a carpenter's hammer. The head executive rang the bell three times, the deep ringing echoing throughout the chamber. All conversation from the other executives ceased immediately.
"And so it comes to pass, that another gathering of we brothers is upon us," the head executive said, his voice a dark baritone.
"So it comes to pass," the other executives intoned.
Their leader handed off the hammer and bell to his acolytes. "This meeting is different, for it now signifies a greater meaning to us all, a meaning I am certain all of you are very well aware of."
"Have you communed with The Great One, sir?" asked an executive to the head's right. "Have there been new revelations from the Godhead?"
"Indeed, there has been. Corpus of the Abyss has been told this as well in their circles, and now it comes to us. The promised time is nearly upon us, when death shall eclipse life, and the beginning of the end breaches the world."
"Then… the Godhead's armies are nearly ready? Soon we are to march on the world?" Khajiit inquired this time.
The head executive looked at him then, staring through the blank eyes of his raven mask. "In but a few short years, we will be ready. The Great One and his Godhead assure me that our efforts are not for naught, but there is a final step we must take to make it occur smoothly."
Both of the head executive's hands were held out in front of him, hovering over the table. His fingers were gnarled, wicked things, worn down straight to the bone, and filed into gruesome points.
A slimy, tar-like substance began to drip from his fingers, pooling onto the table. It stunk of the sickly sweet smell of rot, and the liquid writhed as if alive. Everyone at the table stared in anticipation, watching as the puddle grew larger.
Ever-so-slowly, a rough, pearl-shaped object rose out of the substance. It looked to be large enough to fill a grown man's hand, a round, black rock that wouldn't look out of place on the side of the road.
Many of the executives' eyes opened, and Khajiit's brow rose when the orb finished rising, and simply sat on the table. The tar it was born from slithered back to the head executive, who allowed it to crawl up his left arm and back into the folds of his robes.
"We are to complete a death spiral, one that will set into motion the series of events to complete our goal. This Orb of Death shall be the tool of our will, granted to us by servants of The Great One," their leader said.
"T-this is the fabled Orb of Death?!" An executive member asked, "This is the very same you used for your death spiral, sir! To think that it would be used again after the creation of the Silent City of the Beastmen!"
"Yes, but it shall not be used by me this time. I have other duties I am to attend to over the next few years. In a few weeks, I am to travel to Inveria and aid the Godhead in their missions to complete their armies. This is The Great One's command to me."
"Which city then are we to make fall?" Raksus asked, his mustache quivering with excitement.
At his question, one of the head executive's acolytes stepped forward, a rolled-up sheet of parchment in hand. The younger man unfurled it, laying it flat on the table for all executives to see.
The acolyte pulled out a piece of charcoal and drew an X on the map, a place that everyone present was intimately familiar with. It was one of their most tantalizing targets in recent memory, both because of the location and what its downfall would signify to the surrounding country as a whole.
A sharp finger prodded that X, tapping it with a harsh click from the wood underneath. "E-Rantel. The great fortress city of Re-Estize, and the bastion upon which other nations falter against. That is to be our next target."
An atmosphere of ambition and hunger clogged up the room, palpable to everyone with living senses. Anyone with any sort of ambition in Zuranon was aiming toward the completion of a death spiral in a major city like E-Rantel.
Should a death spiral be completed in any sort of city, it was guaranteed that the creator of said death spiral would ascend to lichdom and attain the power they so coveted. On rare occasions, if the death count was high enough, one could even become a legendary Night Lich.
Khajiit eyed the Orb of Death greedily. "Forgive me, sir, but might I ask something? I recall in the stories of the Silent City that the Orb of Death was nearly the size of a lion-man's head. If this is the Orb, it is far… smaller than what I was told it would be."
Some executives glared at him, but when they thought about it and looked between the orb and the head executive, their initial anger faded away to curiosity. Now they waited patiently to hear their leader's explanation.
The head executive took a moment to respond, likely formulating his thoughts before responding. "Shortly after my ascension, it was decreed as part of The Great One's will that the orb be reworked and made even stronger than before. It has far greater potential, in a size more convenient for our hands. Carrying it as it was before then was a burdensome task."
That satisfied the executives enough that another posed a different question. "If our next mission is to go and create a death spiral in E-Rantel, then who shall be the one to accomplish such a mission?"
"It shall naturally be Khajiit, of course. There is no one better suited to our task than him."
It was such a calm and meditated answer that the executives floundered, unable to string together words to articulate their disbelief. Khajiit himself was dumbfounded, though Raksus grinned viciously and proudly, an expression that told of his satisfaction in the choice.
"B-but sir!" one cried, "Not to speak ill of Khajiit's skills and abilities, but why not consent to speak it over with the rest of us? Are we not equally as qualified to lead this mission for The Great One? Are we not worthy to complete this death spiral and attain lichdom?"
"Many of us have waited years for such an opportunity!" Another spoke up, slamming his hands down on the table. "After our botched attempts in the city of E-Roebel, I'm anxious to see a proper return to form. Surely-"
"Surely you will learn to trust in our leader's judgment and keep your thoughts to yourself," Raksus interrupted, "Khajiit has made his intentions known for years, and you would take away this opportunity from him? For shame, Duke Wimmeburg."
Duke Wimmburg's rotund cheeks flushed with embarrassment and scorn. He looked ready to shout something back, but he immediately wilted under the silent gaze of the head executive.
"I understand your concern, only this is not fully my choice. I endorse the skills of Khajiit Dale Badantel, but it is the will of The Great One that he be the one to take on the E-Rantel death spiral."
That caught the other members off guard, Khajiit included. A begrudging, accepting silence fell on them all after that, though that same smug satisfaction radiated off Raksus towards the aspiring lich.
Finally, the head executive ended the quiet. "For now, this meeting is adjourned. I wish to brief Khajiit in private regarding the details of this task. Meet back here around nightfall. The rest of you are dismissed."
They left without much fanfare, though Khajiit could feel the piercing glares of jealousy from his brethren as they walked out. The strong hands of Raksus clapped him on the shoulder as a silent congratulations.
When it was only Khajiit and the head executive, the latter spoke. "Khajiit, the Godhead gave me a special glimpse into the Sea of Possibilities. You are destined to succeed. The Great One has willed it so."
That excited the aspiring lich in a way he hadn't felt in years. For a brief moment, he believed that the vigors of youth were returning to him. He even allowed himself a proud grin.
"However, there was something else I was able to see with permission from the Godhead. You are also destined to die," the head executive said.
"That does not frighten me, sir. To become a lich does involve that I die in any event before ascension. I have accepted that and come to terms with it. The pain wouldn't ward me off anyhow," Khajiit informed. He frowned a bit at how his superior felt the need to tell him such an obvious fact.
He was well-versed in every aspect of the rituals needed. Though he hadn't gotten to use his own, he did well in writing down to the last detail, ensuring the wording and magic were perfect. His path to lichdom was assured.
Once he spent the first few years mastering his greatest control over necromancy and the undead, he'd begin absorbing more negative energy to empower himself. For one such as himself, Khajit knew his ambitions would never end until he reached the rare and coveted final form of a high-ranking member of Zuranon: A Night Lich.
Such beings were extraordinarily rare, though Corpus of the Abyss had their fair share of Night Liches in their ranks. What made them so powerful was that unlike regular magic casters and even lesser liches, they had the potential to cast magic beyond even the sixth tier.
Khajiit knew the head executive was working towards becoming a Night Lich, but it was more a matter of waiting and absorbing as much negative energy as he could to speed up the process.
"Why do you bring up the inevitability of my death? You are not attempting to change my mind about this mission, are you? If The Great One wills it, then it shall be done," he declared, almost rebelliously.
The head executive's stare was unlike anything the human executive felt in his life. He learned to fear little as a by-product of working with ravenous undead, but even then, the stare of his superior unsettled him in a way his creations and subject matter could not.
It always felt like the very core of his being was being split open, the contents expertly observed and put back together. No secrets were safe from the head of Zuranon, regardless of how tight-lipped one was. It made Khajiit shiver.
His eyes fell to the floor while his superior continued his line of thought. "No, I do not mean the natural death that comes before lichdom. I mean you shall experience a final death, the end of your body and soul."
That made his head snap up. "Wha–what do you mean by that?"
Rather than answer immediately, the head executive walked around the table, standing right before the elderly necromancer. Despite being nearly the same height, the head executive seemed to tower over him, smothering him with his cold and indifferent aura.
"You know exactly what I mean. The Great One has decreed it. You are to sacrifice yourself for the final plan. When you leave for E-Rantel, you will not come back."
The words were so final, so completely deadpan that Khajiit half wondered if he was the victim of a poor joke. That idea died when he remembered that his leader disliked any sort of joke.
Never before had he wanted to rage at that moment. To shout back that his competency would ensure he could never die as even a lich. A part of him conflicted against those thoughts, understanding that the message was not from his leader, but rather from The Great One Himself.
As if reading his thoughts, the head executive answered in a hushed whisper. "You shall become one with The Great One upon your final death. Your death spiral will be the greatest of all others, greater than the ones that came before. Your consciousness shall meld with The Great One's, and you will be able to see, through his eyes, the end of all life."
He tilted his head. "No other member of Zuranon has ever received this type of honor. The Godhead applauds you, The Great One notices you, and we, your brethren, salute your position. In the moments before your final demise, he will inhabit your vessel, and take your soul when it is destroyed."
Just as suddenly as he stood before him, the head executive stepped back, giving Khajiit space to process everything he said. Khajiit's mind felt like it was on an axle, spinning at speeds barely comprehensible.
He was to be the one to act as his patron's vessel. He was the one meant to jumpstart the final plan?
It was a story told to him ever since his acolyte years, one that fully encompassed every member's hopes and dreams, and one that offered a rare glimpse into the past.
"It almost feels like I'm about to live through the old legends," he managed to hoarsely laugh. "Something that belongs among the stories of the Evil Deities and the Greed Kings. To create the beginning of the end… truly unfathomable."
"You are well-acquainted with the stories." It was a statement, not a question from the head executive.
"Of course! When our ancestors split and our section became what it was now, it was The Great One who came to us and allowed us glimpses into the Sea of Possibilities! Forced to separate from everyone else just before entering the Forest of Tob just because we sought a higher existence! There was no one else willing to take us in, not like The Great One and the Godhead did!"
"Naturally. We are elevated minds among simpletons."
"Oh yes we are… were it not for those prophecies, we would have remained aimless, but now we're charged with purpose! The Great One's return to this physical plane is an honor I'm scarcely worthy of."
The head executive laid a hand on Khajiit's shoulder. A rare act of comradery. "And yet, here you are. We are to deal with those… worthless heathens in the Forest soon enough. But not now, not until you finish your mission. I expect you to be gone by the end of the week."
With that, his leader turned and began to walk towards the door. It wasn't until that moment that Khajiit realized he wasn't briefed on the mission specifics at all. Or rather, he was, but it was not a traditional telling of his goal.
That means I am trusted to know what comes next. I've spent decades preparing for this moment. I cannot allow it to go to waste!
"Oh, and Khajiit," the head executive said, pausing to speak. "Speak of this to no one except the operatives waiting for you in E-Rantel. They already know, but I will not tolerate jealousy among the executives should they know the truth. That includes Raksus."
The sight of the heavy, metal door opening and closing signaled the head executive's departure, leaving Khajiit as the last one in the room. He felt giddy, almost like a child again.
Those brought up memories of his childhood, far beyond a time he long since passed. He could still remember being a humble peasant, reaping the fields for their next fall harvest alongside his mother and father.
Now that he'd grown old, he was planning another type of harvest, one that would bring him a reward far sweeter and more satisfying than mere wheat and corn.
If I am to sacrifice myself for the final plan, then so be it. I shall bring about an age where death eclipses life, an age… of darkness.
—-
Catacombs of E-Rantel
Six weeks before the arrival of
Ainz Ooal Gown
It had been a long five years since that fateful day in the meeting room of the executives of Zuranon. The years had blended amongst all the scheming and scurrying around in the underbelly of E-Rantel, making time hard to keep track of at certain points.
The cemetery of E-Rantel served as Khajiit's primary base of operations now, a secret passage in the main mausoleum leading to an underground chamber, where the members of Zuranon congregated and gave their reports of the day-to-day business of the city.
They did well to integrate themselves amongst the unsuspecting citizens of Re-Estize society. When the older necromancer first arrived, he'd been met by some of the nobility that controlled the city, the nobility that was secretly contributing members of Zuranon.
Those nobles did all they could to conceal the efforts of Khajiit and the expendable operatives that awaited him in the city. Whenever they needed supplies or materials for their main mission, their sponsors would do well in accommodating their every need.
Granted, there were several close calls when it came to Khajiit and his operatives being discovered. A too-curious guard would explore the cemetery of E-Rantel in the late hours of the night, a virtuous or greedy outside noble would notice shipments mysteriously disappearing within cargo manifests, and even just civilians sticking their noses where they didn't belong.
All faded away in time, either cautiously warned away or otherwise found dead in unfortunate accidents. There could be no mistakes when it came to the death spiral of E-Rantel, that much was certain.
However, that didn't mean that all of Khajiit's time was spent in the dark amongst eager acolytes and grumpy necromancers.
Khajiit himself was speaking with some of the operatives about some of the final cogs of the death spiral when he heard a familiar and somewhat dreaded voice from behind, all too cheerful and entirely sadistic.
"Oh, Daaale! I'm back hoooome! Did you miss me, or was I not gone that long yet?"
He gritted his teeth, but adopted a neutral expression quickly beforehand when he turned to face one of his partners in crime.
Said partner was a woman around the age of twenty, maybe twenty-one at the oldest. She had short, blond hair and delicate features that made her appear cat-like.
Her body was athletic and lithe, perfect for acrobatics and hit-and-run tactics. The armor she wore was, for lack of a better term, somewhat skimpy. Basically armored, glorified undergarments.
What made her outfit different from others is that it was almost entirely composed of the plates of fallen adventurers, grisly trophies claimed over the years as part of her sadistic pleasures.
Despite his reserved expression, the woman pouted. "Oh, why the sour face? I thought you'd be happy to see me! Well, maybe you'll be happier to hear that I've been doing what I said I would, scouting out those Knights you're overly fond of. What do you have to say to that?"
Now the poker face fell away to his original annoyed look. "I'll believe it when you actually yield some results, and bring back news they're all dead. Until then, I have no reason to believe anything has been done yet."
The woman pouted, but her red eyes held a Cheshire grin in their dark glint. "Such a sourpuss. Fine, whatever, I do know that some of Zuranon hired that one mercenary band to take care of the Knights of the Weeping King. That 'Death Spreading Brigade' led by Brain Unglaus."
Sensing that the conversation was about to get more interesting, Khajiit raised a hand to dismiss the operatives he was speaking to previously. They wordlessly acquiesced, though they shot him wary glances as they walked away.
Once they were out of earshot, the executive spoke again. "Even trapped here in this city, your awareness of the outside world is as sharp as ever, fragment of Quintia."
Faster than a viper, the blond woman pulled out a handled spike, one of her infamous stilettos, and aimed it for Khajiit's neck. Just as quickly, the Orb of Death was in his hand, summoning a tendril of bones to block the strike and hold it there.
His blank look contrasted her vicious grin, the corners of her mouth reaching up to her eyes in delight.
"Oh, so close there! Your little marble is always ready to go. Just for future reference, no more of that 'Fragment of Quintia' bullshit. I want no reminders of my idiot brother, so I think I'd prefer to be called something else."
"And what sort of name did you have in mind?"
"The name 'Clementine' has a nice ring to it, don't you think? No ties to my old life, and sure as hell nothing regarding my brother or the Black Scripture."
Having established those new boundaries, Clementine retracted her stiletto, and Khajiit allowed the tendril to disintegrate and the mana that sustained it to return to the Orb of Death. Its center pulsed with a purple light while in his hand.
Every time the two of them interacted, it always felt like he was simultaneously learning something new and understanding just how little he knew about the assassin that was Clementine.
She had come to him and his operatives a couple of years after they had established themselves in the city, apparently on the run from the clutches of the Black Scripture. She stole an item of incredible power from them, but what it was, she refused to share until 'the right time'.
From there, she worked her way up in the ranks of Zuranon itself, eventually replacing one of the current executives and implanting herself as a leading member. Duke Wimmeburg never saw what was coming, but he was a pompous clergyman and would be hardly missed.
Though she declared herself as trapped within E-Rantel, Khajiit was no fool. Over the years they spent working together, he had slowly teased out some information about her background, and the sort of skills she had.
Unfortunately, it was not much, but he did learn that she had an older brother named Quaiesse Hazeia Quintia, who she despised for one reason or another. She had served as a body double for him back in the Black Scripture.
This skill as a body double was used from time to time, Clementine having taken hostage some hapless woman to act as her body double so she could make outside city trips. She never left for longer than a few days, a week at most. The body double was coerced into keeping quiet under threat of death should she reveal anything.
"You know, Dale-," Clementine started, only to be cut off by Khajiit's displeased grunt.
"If you wish to be called Clementine, then stop referring to me as 'Dale'. I am above such things, just as you are," he said, his tone leaving little room for discussion.
It wouldn't be needed, as a small modicum of respect shone in Clementine's eyes. "An understanding, then. Alright, as I was saying, I just came by because I wanted to let you know I'm heading out of town again. I'll make sure to bring back a souvenir."
"Is that so, already? I thought you said you just got back?"
*Well...call it a hunch. Something tells me that those mercenaries on their way to the Knights are going to have a reeeaaallly hard time punching through the defenses. Besides, I'm back 'home' here, in this cramped hole you call a base."
"This place suits our purposes well enough," he said matter-of-factly, "Clementine, I swear if you are leaving to 'blow off some steam' by adding to that collection of yours, then know your actions do not benefit anyone else in Zuranon but yourself."
"Oh come on, I promise that'll be good for everyone!" Clementine assured him, her cruel smile never fading. "I get to have some fun, and you, old man, get to see your little plan come to fruition. Besides, we still have to stake out some possible suitors for that relic of mine, too."
Something told Khajiit that whatever it was she was planning, it was a lot more blood than he would've preferred being spilled before the enactment of E-Rantel's death spiral. Being one of the leading members of Zuranon meant he was no stranger to death, though he preferred not to make a mess.
And yet, the way the assassin's eyes gleamed indicated there was truth to her words. If she truly intended to remove the rivals of Zuranon so that they could move forward as an organization, then it may be worth it to just let her go.
If all else failed on her end, she'd at least be back in time for the Death Spiral, and she could escape in the ensuing chaos to whatever destination she had in mind. She'd be able to accomplish her wish, and would likely leave Zuranon behind her.
Though the more he thought about it, the more curious he was as to why she didn't just leave when she had the means to already. The body double would be more than able to buy her enough time to hitch a ride to another country, or perhaps leave the three nations altogether for greener pastures.
He could probably guess, but in all honesty, he preferred not to. Khajiit accepted long ago that Clementine will do as she pleases, and she will stain her hands as bloody as she likes in the process.
"I'm heading out again. Figured I'd drop by and let you know I was alive. When I come back, you'll be the first person I talk to. See ya theeen!"
Clementine walked with a sway to her hips, enticing some of the younger operatives when she passed by. She had drawn a cloak over her shoulders and a hood over her head, ascending the steep stairs that would lead back to the surface and out of the cemetery.
Khajiit sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose once he saw the last of her cloak billow away up the stairs. One of the operatives was brave enough to approach him after that, the shadow of his hood hiding most of his face.
"Sir, why do you allow her to take such liberties with you?" the operative asked. "She may be an executive, but you are worthy of more respect than that."
"Because ultimately, she serves her purpose. She helps to get rid of anyone troublesome in our way, and we continue along to complete the final plan," he explained, taking his hand away from his face. "Not to mention that despite her attitude, everything she's done is mostly to our benefit. It's just like having to deal with a teenager, I imagine."
The operative nodded, a thoughtful look on her face. "I wonder what she stole that was so important that the Black Scripture is hunting her. It must've been some relic."
"For all we know, it could be the washcloth one of the Six used to wipe their mouths with. Those zealots will persecute anyone for any reason if they believe it will please their gods."
He began to walk deeper into the base, taking a path that was lined on either side with stone pillars filled with violet light. He continued along this route until he reached the end, where he stopped and watched some of the other acolytes working hard on the finishing touches.
The area he was at now was where the focal point of all the magic needed to complete E-Rantel's Death Spiral would be funneled. It was a circular, amphitheater type room that was surrounded by more stone pillars, only these were of varying heights.
An item, most likely the Orb of Death, would be placed directly at the center, where it would unleash all of the negative energy it had accumulated over five years. The pillars would amplify it, creating an area of effect that would steadily grow to engulf the entire city.
Khajiit and some chosen operatives would be on the surface in the cemetery, where the executive would complete his ascension to lichdom and finish off whatever survivors there were left after the Death Spiral.
He anticipated a great harvest to be had, and once E-Rantel fell, Zuranon would be able to pave the path for Corpus of the Abyss to march up from Inveria and steadily conquer the entire continent.
Fields of death and decay would be seen for kilometers around, all manner of undead milling about and devouring the last few living beings as dark offerings to The Great One. Liches like him at that time would be at their greatest heights of power, passively absorbing massive amounts of negative energy all at once.
A hunger deep in the pit of his stomach rose, almost as if in anticipation of all that power to wield. He worked nearly his entire life towards such a goal, and it was nearly within his grasp.
Everything just had to go according to plan, and then it would be he who would stand above all other mortals. No living being would be able to stand against Zuranon!
While Khajiit watched the operatives work, he noticed that the shadows surrounding the circular area were murky, peeling off the walls like smoke. The heavy gas settled to the floor, where it began to gather around the outside pillars and wait there.
A harsh cacophony of whispers leaped at Khajiit, making him frown from slight pain. He snapped his fingers to get the attention of all the workers. They looked up at him expectedly, awaiting his orders.
"LEAVE," was his only command, spoken with an authority that left no room for argument.
His operatives complied immediately, gathering up their chisels and dustpans and scurrying out of the ritual chamber. The acolyte that accompanied Khajiit left as well, bowing to him and herding his brethren toward another area of the base.
Once the men were out of sight, the shadows slithered across the floor, heading directly for the center where the Orb would go. The whispers grew louder when the shadows rose, forming a condensed ball of pitch that hovered menacingly in mid-air.
An emerald fire sparked into existence then, taking on a shape that reminded the elderly necromancer of a serpent's eyes. The overall size of the black entity would be sizable enough to consume him whole, though he knew that was not the purpose behind its visit.
Khajiit bent a knee, wincing at how his bones cracked. He bowed his head as well in reverence. "The Great One himself. You honor me with your arrival today. I…am sorry I was not more prepared to meet with you."
"That is of no concern. I only come to observe your progress, and share with you my findings," The Great One spoke, its voice unimaginably ancient and like knives scraping against rock.
The Orb of Death thrummed excitedly from its spot within his robe's inner pocket. Khajiit could practically feel the inner consciousness of the sentient item clawing its way out to reunite with its one, true master.
"The Sea of Possibilities reveals much to me. What I anticipate is soon to pass, as the chosen ones are about to be born into this world."
Khajiit's head snapped up. "Ah! Then we are right on schedule? Our time is nearly upon us?"
"Indeed, executive of Zuranon. The Knights of the Weeping King, your enemies, are being dealt with swiftly. I will not have them impede your work."
"You mean the mercenaries some of my brethren hired to deal with them? I cannot imagine why Clementine would bother if we are already throwing bodies at them. We may just end up reinforcing their numbers."
"It was not just any member of Zuranon who commissioned the Death Spreading Brigade for this task, but rather the Fragment of Quintia herself."
Khajiit did a double take at that, blinking in confusion. "I… what? Why would she do such a thing? Is she so desperate for the death spiral that she hired a group of mercenaries to help her destroy the Knights?"
"In due time. Just as she serves your purpose, you shall serve yours as well. Do not concern yourself with her part in all of this."
Mulling over The Great One's words, the elderly necromancer remained to kneel to avoid the pain of his knees trying to hoist him up. It would appear he was not as privy to The Great One's plan as he had hoped.
"What would you have of me then, my master?" He finally asked, unsure how to proceed with the conversation now.
He felt a faint tinge of amusement from The Great One. "Continue as you are. Matters in the Forest of Tob require my attention, so I will leave this in your hands. When it is time, I will splinter myself to aid you."
The hazy essence of The Great One was beginning to dissipate, and the emerald fire it had for eyes flickered. In only a few more seconds, the fire disappeared entirely, and the shadows returned to what they were originally.
Sensing that his master had left completely, Khajiit struggled back up, using his staff to aid him the most. Once he was back on his feet, he reflected on what The Great One told him, and what it might mean for his future.
The Knights of the Weeping King, their centuries-old rivals, were to be fully exterminated. Ever since the split his ancestors experienced when they first arrived in the kingdom of Re-Estize, the Baharuth Empire, and the Slane Theocracy, they had been hated enemies. At first, this wasn't always so.
From the stories Khajiit had heard from his seniors, both the Knights and Zuranon shared a vested interest in the undead and their uses.
Where they differed is that Zuranon believed in becoming undead, to ascending to a higher plane of existence as liches, while the Knights merely believed in using the undead as auxiliary forces, extra soldiers to line their small but effective army.
There was a third group among his organization's ancestors in the beginning, a group of nature-loving druids. The precursor of Zuranon sought to push them away from themselves and the Knights, to consolidate their power and rule over their new home.
Alas, the virtuous nature of the Knights was underestimated, and Zuranon instead were the ones banished from the forest. It was later discovered that the Knights were similarly exiled for their practices of a powerful forest spirit.
"Ironic, what they ended up doing anyways," he muttered darkly to himself. "Worshipping some horned Evil Deity as a result of their brashness. How can they claim to be better than us if they see no issue in their practices?"
Deciding to exit the ritual site, Khajiit walked back the way he came to arrive there in the first place. He never could understand the antics of the Knights, no matter how hard he tried.
If it weren't for their interference in what went down in E-Roebel, they might've been forgiven and allowed to merge with Zuranon, or so the more hopeful executives said.
Khajiit highly doubted it himself.
Based on their dossiers, the Knights frequently recruited from the less fortunate and gifted, which meant they were quick to attack slaver trains and, most despicably, the sacrifice wagons that Zuranon carted around as needed for their operations.
They remained hidden in some part of the Azerlisia mountains, but Khajiit himself was unaware of where exactly. It was likely Clementine found out, which was how she was able to hire the Death Spreading Brigade.
I wonder what she offered them to make them willing to go out so far and fight them? If I didn't know Brain Unglaus was such a disciple of the blade, I'd think she seduced him somehow.
"Either way, it's going to prove an interesting rest of the month," he finished his inner thoughts, rejoining the operatives he sent away.
He only wondered now if The Great One would grant him one final glimpse into the sea to satisfy his curiosity for what came after.
—-
Nazarick, Tenth Floor
One Day after Carne
Momonga sat on the Throne of Kings, looking through the different functions of the tomb of Nazarick to see if anything had changed as a result of transferring over to a new world.
So far, he was the only person present in the throne room, as his guildmates were more or less refamiliarizing themselves with their base. A majority of them were gone for more than three years, so he expected they might remember a few things, but not everything.
Ah well, at least they're enjoying themselves. I know I certainly did as soon as we got here, however THAT worked.
After tapping through a few more menus, he deduced that all systems were more or less as they were back in Yggdrasil. He had a complete list of the NPCs and their statuses, as well as those of his guildmates. The "online" tag that would've shown up next to their names was gone now, instead just a constant, bright lettering.
The trap systems were active, but constantly decreased the funds present in the treasury. He wasn't sure if the money of their new home would be compatible with Nazarick's monetary system, so he felt he may have to turn off some of the more expensive defenses in the future, should their funds get too low.
Once he was satisfied that everything was in order, Momonga waved his hand and the menu went away. He reclined back in the throne, sighing in contentment as a reflex rather than being relaxed.
Strangely, I thought this throne would be a lot more uncomfortable, but it feels… okay? Maybe it's because I'm undead?
"Perhaps now that I don't have anything to do, I can think more about what my new physiology is like," he said to himself, still unused to how deep his voice sounded. Inside his head, he sounded like his old self, but when speaking aloud, he noticed the change that occurred.
If he focused, he could make himself sound exactly as he was when he was human, but he found his voice eventually defaulted back to his new baritone. If he thought about it from the mind of a role player, it sounded pretty much how he would imagine a lich.
"Maybe I could get really into it, play up the role of an evil Overlord? I'm sure my friends would have a good laugh at it, as would I. Oh man, speaking of my friends…,"
He recalled the harsh punishment that Punitto Moe brought down upon him for sneaking out of the tomb with Bellriver and Garnet. As a result of his carelessness in bringing the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown, he was no longer allowed to even hold it until both Punitto Moe and Ancient One felt he was ready enough to wield it.
As far as he knew, it was locked away in the Cherry Blossom Sanctuary, the [Gate] hub that connected all the floors of Nazarick. Aureole Omega, the leader of the Pleiades and the NPC of Coup De Grace the androsphinx, personally guarded it herself.
I can't believe I was such an idiot! I mean, I was just happy to be hanging out with everyone again, but still! Now I'm in trouble, and I can't even do anything like the others to pass the time!
Since his arrival in their new world, he explored some of his new changes. Beyond the initial fighting in Carne Village, he hadn't done anything with his skills and magic. He planned to practice some of it in the amphitheater with the help of some of his friends.
Undead summons like the skeletal spellswords seemed to work the same, so he had no reason to believe otherwise, but he figured it wouldn't hurt to try the other types of undead he could use.
In the meantime, he experimented with his more bodily sensations. He knew he couldn't sleep since his arrival in this world. Garnet was the same way, though he could taste food and drink even if he did not need to eat.
Which was rather unfair, since he couldn't eat food or even taste it. When he tried something called a "donut", it merely fell through the bottom of his jaw.
His emotions were also artificially regulated. Base emotions like contentment or surprise were fine, but once they elevated to something more extreme, they were instantly suppressed until he was calm again.
I can't eat, I can't sleep, and I can't even feel mad about it. Well, I guess I'm still happy that I can still feel touch.
Heat and cold were both able to be felt, and he'd taken advantage of that fact by enjoying some time in the bathhouses of the Ninth Floor. He also spent ample time in the Library of Ashurbanipal with Grievous Sin the mgalekgolo.
Having the guild's lead loremaster back was a great boon, especially since he would help recommend some of the new content he was writing. Only a few days back, and already there were a dozen new books added to the library's contents.
Just having other people around helped Momonga immensely to stay calm and enjoy himself. For once, Nazarick felt at home again, after the long years that he spent alone in Yggdrasil.
"Alright, I think that's enough of me sitting in the throne room by myself. Time to go and find my friends," he said, hoisting himself up from the throne. "I think I remember some of them saying they would be on the Sixth Floor."
His guild ring lit up, the magic gem glowing. In the blink of an eye, he was teleported to the destination he had in mind. Instead of the obsidian and gold decals of the Tenth Floor, a lush, green meadow spread out right in front of him.
The ambient sound of birds and wildlife sounded off all around him, a result of some of the actual creatures Blue Planet the seleinoi filled it with, and the noises created by the floor itself. Plants of all varieties bloomed in such beautiful colors that it would put natural flora to shame.
He could see the sparkling surface of the lake off in the distance, shining more preciously than any jewel in the world. He swore he could even see some insects hovering above the surface, dipping below occasionally for a drink.
Everything on the Sixth Floor was catered to soothe the soul, living or not, and Momonga was far from the only one to take advantage of the new reality that existed in Nazarick.
He could see several of his friends out and about, looking on in wonder at the unnatural beauty of it all. In the past, they wouldn't have batted an eye, but here, where they could feel everything and experience it as themselves, or as close to themselves as they could be given the situation, it was paradise.
Tied between two trees was a fine mesh hammock that shone like Star Silver, a dozing HeroHero gently swinging as he was rocked to sleep by Solution Epsilon, his personal Pleiade.
The predator slime smiled gently at her creator, something more kind and warm he never thought he'd see on her. Feeling that he was spying on a personal moment, he turned to look at some of his other friends.
Closer to the lake, he could see the familiar armor of Garnet the animated armor, alongside his girlfriend Brisingr the animated sword. Between both of them was CZ Delta, who held a fishing pole in her hands.
The couple sounded like they were trying to coach her through the process of fishing. Momonga seriously doubted there was any fish in that lake unless Blue Planet recently stocked it up from the outside world.
Nearby was a blanket and a picnic basket laden high with sandwiches and fruits. The pink, slimy form of Bukubukuchagama sat next to the illustriously golden Peroroncino, both of them reaching into the basket to disperse the food items.
Shalltear Bloodfallen and the twins, Mare Belle Fiore and Aura Bella Fiora, eagerly received their chosen foods. They settled in next to their creators, excitedly chatting it up. Of the NPCs, Shalltear was noticeably leaning in far closer to the thunderbird player, who leaned away as far as he could from her.
Bukubukuchagama caught his eye and happily waved toward him. Those around him spotted him as well, and they mimicked her motion. He waved back and then allowed his eyes to keep roaming the floor to see who else was there.
He spotted Nishikienrai the half-golem and his pleiade, Narberal Gamma, sitting together underneath a tree. They didn't appear to be talking, but rather just quietly basked in each other's presence.
Nishikienrai had his mask removed, revealing a stony but human-enough face. Narberal was dressed in her usual Pleiades uniform and bore a smile so soft Momonga thought he was imagining it.
Off nearby were Sebas Tian and Connaisdiam walking and talking, the former looking considerably worried and speaking hurriedly. The latter nodded sagely in understanding, offering advice to the Dragonoid.
If he had to guess as to their conversation, Momonga guessed that it was about Touch Me, who locked himself up in his room and refused to come out. He was handling the guild's transfer to their new surroundings unwell and only allowed the maids in to give him food and drink.
I'm sorry Touch Me, I can't imagine what that would be like, leaving everything you love behind like that.
Oh god, that reminds me about his wife and daughter! If he's HERE, does that mean that he just vanished into thin air in our old world?
It was an admittedly terrifying thought, but it was a scenario that likely would get overlooked where he lived. It wasn't exactly uncommon for a salaryman like himself to just… disappear.
True, circumstances in Japan and the world as a whole were slowly improving, but things were still dire enough that everyone yearned for something more. Acid rain, food shortages, dwindled forests, and reduced animal life all painted a macabre picture of the world. Momonga himself had nothing back home to return to, so he didn't mind the change in scenery.
When it came to guildmates like Touch Me, however, that's where it got complicated.
I came here to enjoy myself and see everyone, and I'm standing here like a moron. Though I'm the one missing out for not having my own NPC with me. Who could I…
As he scanned all around the Sixth Floor, he noticed a pair of men that were noticeably out of place amongst the paradise of Nazarick. They were being overlooked by Yamaiko and Yuri Alpha, who spoke pleasantly enough with their "guests".
His mind decided, he made his way over to the quartet. He let his hands dangle and brush against the tall grass he passed, enjoying the fleeting touches.
As he got closer, he recalled the names of the two men, Urek and Boric. Urek was a thinner, more effeminate man. He was clean-shaven with blond hair and brown eyes, while Boric was more burly, built like he could wrestle bears. He was brown-haired and brown-eyed.
Both former Sunlight Scripture members were dressed in the outfits they came to Nazarick in, only noticeably cleaner. Everyone in Ainz Ooal Gown did their best to make sure they were treated well, even if they were hostages, which meant they ate fine meals and had limited access to some of the pleasure facilities on the Ninth Floor.
Unfortunately, because they were in Nazarick, that meant they were subject to the true forms of his guildmates. No one had any obligation to hide here, so they were revealed in all their heteromorphic glory.
Understandably, the two men flinched when he approached, but they steeled themselves and gave him a polite smile as he drew in closer. Yuri Alpha noticed him as well, half-bowing to him.
"Hey, Momonga!" Yamaiko nodded to him. "I was wondering where you were hiding. Came to enjoy the sunlight?" she asked.
"I grew bored checking the base defenses, and I felt like finding the rest of you. I see you're entertaining our guests well enough," he said back in a jovial tone.
"Y-yes sir," Urek said, his professional facade slipping a bit. "Lady Yamaiko and Miss Yuri have done very well to make us feel welcome. Though forgive me, all of this is, well–"
"Consider us very surprised," Boric finished for his partner, glancing at Momonga warily.
The Overlord stroked his bony chin. "I assure you, gentlemen, that while you are here, regardless of the circumstances, you will be unharmed. All we ask is that you remain on your best behavior and that you do not disappoint your scripture back in Carne."
Both men paled at his words, with Urek visibly gulping. The atmosphere was noticeably strained now, and the scripture members looked to be doing their best not to bolt.
Maybe I'm coming on too strongly? I mean, they DID see me and my friends pretty much prove they can't do anything to us. Let's try a different approach.
Yamaiko must have been on the same wavelength as him, as she turned to him and spoke. "Oh, I forgot to mention, Urek and Boric here were telling us about some of the surrounding area, and a few different cities we could maybe visit in the future. Isn't that right, boys?"
When she said this, Urek and Boric calmed down, more at ease. Urek's cheeks regained some of their colors and his shoulders loosened.
"Ah, right. I had started talking about E-Rantel. Their architecture is very sturdy and strong, rather boorish if you ask me, but it has a practicality to it that I can appreciate."
"It's always architectural stuff with you. We've never even been to E-Rantel before, so I don't see what you can complain about." The burly mage grumbled, relaxing more as well.
"E-Rantel? Is there anything interesting about that place we should know about? It sounds rather well built," Momonga asked, "Granted, I'm not sure if I'm going to visit anytime soon, but it might help to have some places in mind for a tour."
Urek leaned his head back in thought. "Well, there are a couple of different spots if I remember the reports about it correctly. There is the merchant's district, which has some goods and services you can buy. The residential district has some homes on sale, though, I'm not sure why you'd ever buy a house there when you live in a place like this."
"There's a pretty well-known pharmacy there, a merchant's guild, an adventurer's guild for those who have the guts for it… And that's all I remember about it. Never really cared about the place," Boric said, shrugging.
That's… well, thank goodness for Yamaiko. I can always count on her to make others feel better. At least she didn't feel like this was a problem that needed her fists.
Momonga knew better. Yamaiko may be a bit impulsive at times, but when she needed to be, she could very quickly prove to be level-headed and empathetic. He imagined it was a useful tool as a school teacher, dealing with special needs children.
Still, even if it was under the pretext of making small talk, what he just learned was extremely interesting. There was a city nearby, and it had an adventurer's guild too. Maybe if he had the chance, he could visit and see what he could learn.
Not to mention he felt a bit of that spark he felt from his time in Carne returning as well. Adventuring sounded like a good bit of fun, and if he could gather useful information from the venture, then his guild was all the better for it.
"Say, sir, I realized that my partner and I never got your name. Might I ask for it?" Urek's voice pierced his thoughts.
"You may call me Momonga," he responded.
"Momonga, sir, there was something I wished to ask you, now that we have you here. It's something I haven't been able to make sense of, and feel free not to answer if you so wish."
"By all means, gentlemen, ask away."
The former scripture members looked at each other, apparently trying to decide if what they were about to ask was worth it. Momonga was beginning to wonder if he'd made a mistake, when they finally mustered up the courage to pose their question.
"Why did you spare us?" Boric asked.
It was such a simple question that it took a moment for Momonga to process it. He looked to Yamaiko to make sure he heard it right, who was as flabbergasted as he was. Yuri watched him curiously, waiting to see his answer.
Momonga paused to collect himself before he answered. "My friend, Bellriver, believed that you could be a useful force of good. I trust his instincts, especially since you displayed a willingness to surrender once your leader revealed himself to be a coward."
"We understand that bit, but why did you spare us?" Urek pressed.
"...I'm afraid I don't follow. What do you mean by me in particular?"
Again, the pair glanced at each other for reassurance. Was what they were trying to get at really that difficult? What was their goal here?
"W-we have served our country for a very long time, Sir Momonga. Fought so many battles they practically blend into each other. The undead are no strangers to us, but they've always had one thing in c-common that they all share, something you don't exhibit at all," Urek explained, fidgeting.
Getting tired of dancing around their words, Boric spoke plainly. "The undead have a massive, seething hatred for all life. They don't make friends. They don't enjoy things like the sun or grass or anything like that. To us, you're way outside of our understanding."
"N-not that that's a bad thing though!" Urek held up both hands, "We like this! You've been very gracious with us, so we hope you understand where we're coming from!"
Oh! They're trying not to insult me. I mean, that seems somewhat stereotypical, but I'm not exactly a regular undead. I can't fault them for seeing me and getting confused.
While he wasn't insulted, and Yamaiko didn't seem to be either, Yuri Alpha took issue with it. Her reserved, demure expression hardened, and she took a step closer toward both mages.
"Our Lord is not some typical undead. He is the leader of Ainz Ooal Gown itself, an honor reserved only for the greatest of the Supreme Beings. To imply that he is just like any ordinary lich implies that such an honor is not an honor at all, to be given to a common creature!"
Boric and Urek instantly backpedaled, stumbling over their words to explain themselves.
"No, that's not what we mean, well, I mean–,"
"We just didn't understand, we never meant to,"
"Of course, we'll do anything we need to earn his forgiveness, please–,"
"Alright, that's enough," Yamaiko intervened, "you can settle down, Yuri. I don't think they were insulting Momonga. They just asked an honest question, that's all. I understand you're upset, but don't get as hot-headed as I do over something so simple."
Yuri began to protest, "But Mother, they can't just–,"
"I agree with Yamaiko," Momonga said, "If I was in their shoes, I'd be wondering as well. Remember, they are our guests, and we shall treat them as such. We cannot get fussy anytime we feel we are slighted. That is not conducive to good relations between groups whatsoever."
Sensing that their feelings were decided, Yuri Alpha kept her protests to herself, though she pursed her lips and looked downcast. Slowly, the mood returned to something more calm and enjoyable.
Boric and Urek, having their curiosity satisfied, talked more easily with Momonga and Yamaiko, and the two heteromorphs in turn found it easy to speak with their human guests.
It might be a good idea to keep an eye on that, from ALL the NPCs. For now, though, I'm happy just to enjoy the day, and possibly plan a little side trip to E-Rantel in the future.
For the rest of the day, however, Momonga cared little for plans. He decided to enjoy everything that came to him in the moments that followed.