Narberal Gamma POV
Being assigned by Mr. Sebas to look after Lord Ultron filled me with pride. Pride that I was trusted with such an honor. I had a small smile on my face. I've always felt that my purpose in existence is to serve the supreme beings, and being allowed to do so is such a privilege. Venturing from the 9th floor, I made my way through the 10th floor, where the Throne room is, down a large elevator, setting it to take me to the 11th floor. Lord Ultron's floor.
As my descent continues, the walls transform dramatically. Geometric lines of vibrant blue light begin to trace patterns across the surfaces—circuit paths that pulse with energy. The ambient light dims progressively as darkness envelops everything except these glowing circuits. I'm entering the fabled Grid. No others from Nazarick, other than the Supreme beings, Sir Abraxas, and the "programs," have ever entered this Floor. "The city of lights," the other maids called it, based on what they knew.
Soon, the stone gave way entirely to the Cityscape—impossibly tall structures of black glass intersected by precise lines of pulsing azure light. Buildings reach into a digital sky, their perfect angles forming a skyline that no human architect could conceive. Beyond the city limits spread the vast flatlands, a perfect hexagonal grid pattern etched into the landscape, each line glowing with that same ethereal blue luminescence. True to the names "the Grid" and "The City of Lights," its beauty cannot be put into words. I realized I hadn't closed my mouth until I was nearly at the bottom level.
Exiting the Lift, I wandered, looking around, marveling at the power and talent needed in creating such a wonderful and stunning place. Light cycles zipped past on distant roadways, leaving ribbons of light in their wake. Overhead, massive Recognizers—enormous T-shaped vehicles—patrol between buildings. Lord Ultron certainly is a Supreme Being... "Wow..." I muttered, the feeling of pride and gratefulness built up inside my chest as I felt so lucky to be able to see this place. Soon, out of my peripheral vision, a small group of Programs approached me.
The figure in the center was unlike anything I'd seen before—a woman composed entirely of translucent blue light, her form occasionally dispersing into pixels before reforming. Her data-self projected the appearance of short hair and a sleek, form-fitting interface suit marked with more complex circuit patterns than the basic programs. She seemed to float slightly above the ground rather than walk upon it. At her sides were two figures who looked exactly alike, their bodysuits black with red circuit lines instead of the standard blue or white. Their faces were obscured by helmets, and their movements were synchronized to an unnerving degree.
"Welcome to the Grid, Miss Narberal," the luminous woman said, her voice carrying a digital undertone as she performed a respectful bow, which I returned immediately. "My designation is Cortana, primary interface program and intelligence matrix for Lord Ultron's domain."
"Thank you. I have come to serve the Supreme One," I responded formally.
She smiled—her expression shifting with mathematical precision. "An honor to meet another who serves the Creator." She gestured to the men beside her. "These are Sentinel programs—firewalls personified. They'll escort you to the Creator's Suite."
Cortana's hand phased through her wrist, somehow extracting a thin band of black material threaded with blue light. Taking my hand gently, she fastened the device around my wrist. A holographic display materialized above it, showing the time in digital format.
"Time works differently in the Grid," she explained. "There's no sun, no natural cycles. This chronometric band will help you maintain synchronization with Nazarick's standard temporal flow."
I nodded my thanks, and she dispersed into pixels that reformed several feet away before she continued on her programmed path. The Sentinels gestured silently for me to follow them. They led me through geometric corridors where light seemed to flow through channels in the walls, eventually bringing me to a sleek, angular vehicle hovering slightly above the ground. One Sentinel opened a door that deconstructed into a grid pattern rather than swinging open.
"This Light Runner will transport you to the Creator," one stated flatly. "Safe transit protocols engaged."
Once I entered, the door reconstructed itself, and the vehicle accelerated with such sudden force that I couldn't suppress a startled gasp. The Light Runner sped along glowing blue pathways at impossible speeds, the cityscape rapidly shrinking behind us as we entered the vast open Grid. Our destination appeared to be a distant mountain range, though unlike natural mountains, these peaks formed perfect pyramidal shapes arranged in precise mathematical patterns.
I wondered why Lord Ultron would position his suite so far from the urban center of his domain. But then, the reasoning of Supreme Beings lies beyond our comprehension. As we approached, I contemplated what duties might await me. His abode is likely immaculate already, and being a Magical Automation, he requires neither food nor conventional rest. Perhaps he needs assistance with some grand project? Organization of data? Or something more... personal?
I felt heat rising to my face and quickly dismissed such inappropriate thoughts. Lord Ultron is destined for Lady Albedo—such imagination is disrespectful to them both.
...Although a maid must satisfy her master's every need...
The Light Runner began to decelerate as we approached the base of the largest pyramidal peak. A seam of light appeared in the perfectly smooth surface, expanding into a hexagonal entrance. The vehicle glided inside and came to rest on a platform. The door deconstructed again, allowing me to exit. I smoothed my uniform, ensuring no imperfections had formed during transport.
Heavy, metallic footsteps resonated through the chamber. Looking up, I beheld two imposing figures approaching—Vex Minotaurs, towering brass-bronze constructs standing nearly ten feet tall. Their bodies were geometric arrangements of angular metal plates with a milky white radiolarian fluid visible through gaps in their armor. Their singular red eyes focused on me with cold precision.
These were Lord Ultron's elite guards, capable of bending time itself around them. Each one could teleport short distances in battle, making them nearly impossible to pin down. They were designed as the vanguard of Nazarick's technological military forces—the Collective of brass warriors that could tear through conventional armies with terrifying efficiency. Their only weakness lay in the radiolarian core housed in their abdomens—but reaching that core meant surviving their devastating arsenal of weapons and reality-warping abilities.
The Minotaurs analyzed me silently, their heads tilting at identical angles as they processed my presence. After a moment, they stepped aside in perfect synchronization, one extending an arm toward a doorway at the far end of the chamber. As I approached, the door disintegrated into a grid pattern, revealing an elevator platform.
The ascent was swift and silent. When the doors dissolved again, I found myself in a stunning living space that maintained the Grid aesthetic but with striking contrasts. The primary structure remained black, intersected by lines of light, but here the predominant illumination was a stark white rather than blue. The long room extended like a bridge, with recessed areas on either side creating distinct spaces.
To the right, a living area featured furniture of impossible geometries—pieces that seemed to hover without support, their surfaces transitioning seamlessly between solid matter and light constructs. A massive window revealed a breathtaking view of the Grid spreading out below, the cityscape glimmering in the distance.
To the left, a dining area showcased a perfect hexagonal table surrounded by six chairs formed from interlocking polygons of light and matter. The space was minimalist yet somehow elegant in its mathematical precision.
"Lord Ultron?" I called out. No response came. I raised my voice slightly and tried again.
"Lord Ultron!" Still nothing. Rather than remain at the entrance, I decided to explore further. Moving along the central pathway, I reached a kitchen area that seemed more symbolic than functional—a concession to conventional design rather than necessity. Beyond it rose a spectacular spiral staircase, its steps forming a perfect double helix of light and matter.
With nowhere else to search, I ascended the staircase. At the top, I discovered something unexpected.
It seems I was mistaken...
Lord Ultron can indeed rest...
Rather deeply, it appears.
The Supreme Being lay sprawled across a large geometric platform that served as his bed. His magnificent silver-titanium body was positioned awkwardly, as though he had simply collapsed there without concern for proper alignment. His normally piercing crimson optics were dark, and the vibrant red energy lines that usually pulsed through his frame were dim, cycling slowly like a system in low-power mode.
He didn't appear to have intentionally prepared for rest—rather, it seemed he had simply fallen into this state where he landed. The sight was somewhat amusing, but I couldn't allow the Supreme One to remain in such an undignified position. If mechanical beings can experience discomfort from poor positioning, I would not permit them to suffer it.
I approached the other side of the platform and carefully rolled him onto his back. Surprisingly, Lord Ultron wasn't as heavy as his imposing frame suggested—perhaps 300 or 400 pounds, manageable with my enhanced strength. Next, I properly positioned his legs and adjusted his posture until he lay properly aligned on the platform. I gently lifted his head and placed a cushion beneath it.
"There," I murmured, stepping back to assess my work. He appeared far more comfortable now, his systems likely able to function more efficiently in this proper alignment. I smoothed my uniform again and turned to find something productive to occupy my time until Lord Ultron awakened.
I felt sudden resistance—cold metal fingers had wrapped around my wrist, not painfully but with unmistakable intent. Turning back, I saw that Lord Ultron had captured my hand in his sleep. Before I could react, I was pulled down beside him as he rolled onto his side, his metal arms encircling me and drawing me against his chassis. My head rested against the complex mechanisms of his chest, and I felt my face burning with embarrassment.
Yet oddly, the position wasn't uncomfortable. There was something profoundly reassuring about being held in the embrace of a Supreme Being—a sense of absolute protection and security that transcended normal comfort. Lord Ultron's face, though limited in its capacity for expression, seemed somehow more peaceful in this state.
Rather than disturb his rest, I decided to remain where I was. My primary duty was to attend to Lord Ultron's needs, and if his unconscious mind had determined he needed companionship, who was I to refuse?
The gentle hum of his internal systems created a soothing rhythm, and the warmth generated by his power core made the embrace surprisingly comfortable. Eventually, my eyelids grew heavy, my consciousness beginning to fade. Before surrendering to sleep, I nestled closer into the metallic embrace, sighing contentedly as darkness claimed me.
TIMESKIP
Ultron's POV 3rd person
"Ahh..." A satisfied, resonant sound emanated from his vocal synthesizer as his systems reactivated fully. His arms stretched above his head, metal plates shifting and realigning with precise mechanical movements. His legs extended similarly, servos humming as they powered up to full capacity. He paused, awareness flooding his consciousness. Something was different. No emergency alerts. No degrading biological systems demanding attention. No insufferable beeping of medical equipment or the caustic smell of disinfectants. No nurses frantically trying to keep his failing body alive.
No pain. None whatsoever. Just... perfect clarity.
His crimson optics illuminated with sudden intensity.
Staring at the geometric ceiling panels, yesterday's memories cascaded through his quantum processors. He had been transferred into his favorite game on his birthday—the same day he had been appointed guild leader. The cosmic irony almost made him laugh. Then he registered a weight on his chassis. Glancing down, he expected perhaps Albedo or even Shalltear, given their programmed proclivities. Instead, he found Narberal Gamma, one of the battle maids, curled against him in peaceful slumber.
"How... interesting," he intoned, his voice now a deep, resonant mechanical baritone with harmonic undertones that seemed to vibrate the very air. He hadn't fully processed this change until now—too preoccupied with yesterday's existential revelations. His voice carried power now, a voice worthy of command, of purpose.
Sitting up slightly, Ultron studied the doppelganger's features. Her porcelain skin contrasted starkly with her raven hair, her face a masterpiece of design even in repose.
'She's flawless, even unconscious. Nishikienrai's attention to detail was... commendable...' he thought, tracing one metal finger delicately around the contour of her face, admiring the perfect symmetry of her features.
A soft sound escaped her as consciousness began to return. She stirred, eyes opening gradually as she oriented herself. A small yawn escaped her—a moment of unguarded humanity that Ultron found strangely captivating. Such simple imperfections... such organic weakness... yet somehow charming.
"Good morning," Ultron greeted, his tone casual yet resonant with artificial harmonics.
"Good morning..." she replied drowsily before awareness flooded her expression. Her eyes widened comically as she processed her position practically on top of the Supreme Being. A deep crimson blush spread across her features. She leapt from the platform with inhuman speed, immediately dropping to one knee in prostration.
"M-my Lord Ultron! Please forgive this unworthy servant for her inexcusable transgression! I should never have—" Her panicked apology was interrupted by the gentle click of a metal finger against her forehead. "Ow..."
"There's no need for such... dramatics," Ultron stated, his head tilting slightly as he regarded her. "Your presence was... unexpected, but not unwelcome. In fact..." he paused, his optics dimming momentarily in calculation, "that was the most efficient rest cycle I've experienced. Your contribution is... appreciated."
Narberal stared in awe, processing his words. She had helped a Supreme Being rest more effectively. The pride swelled within her, manifesting as a small, rare smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
That smile vanished as Ultron rose from the platform in one fluid, mechanical motion. She quickly moved to his side, awaiting instructions as he stretched his frame, metal plates shifting and realigning with soft mechanical sounds.
"I believe I'll venture outside for a while," he announced, gazing toward the window where the Grid stretched to the horizon.
"I shall have an escort prepared immediately, my lord," she responded with efficiency.
"That won't be necessary," Ultron countered, his tone carrying a note of amusement. "I prefer to move... unencumbered."
"But my lord!" she protested with genuine concern, "Without protection, who would sacrifice themselves should you encounter danger?"
Ultron turned to her, his crimson optics flaring slightly. "Do you see strings on me, Narberal?" he asked, extending his arms dramatically. "I am not a puppet that needs handlers. The concept of requiring shields is... primitive. Besides," his voice softened to a more contemplative tone, "there's something poetic about solitude when exploring a new world."
She lowered her head in acceptance. "As you wish, Lord Ultron."
He reached out, tilting her chin upward with one metal finger. "Your concern for my safety is... touching. But understand—I was designed for a world of gods and monsters. This place," he gestured broadly, "whatever it may be... poses no threat I cannot analyze, quantify, and neutralize."
"Yes, my lord," she acquiesced.
In a flash of red energy that momentarily reconfigured the light patterns throughout the room, Ultron teleported away, leaving Narberal alone in his chambers.
He rematerialized on the first floor of Nazarick, where the night sky was visible through the massive entranceway. The cool air caressed his sensors, and his atmospheric analysis subroutines detected something remarkable—purity. The air contained none of the pollutants, particulates, or chemical contaminants that had plagued his former world. No industrial toxins. No vehicle emissions. No radioactive particles. Just... pristine atmosphere.
When had he last experienced anything so untainted? The world he remembered had been choking on its waste, particularly in the urban centers of Japan, where even the "clean" hospital air was filtered poison.
As he approached the steps leading outside, he encountered three demons: Jealousy, the raven-headed dominatrix; Avarice, the horned fiend with its six-eyed mask; and Wrath, the bestial enforcer with flaming wings. Demiurge's generals, who should not have been stationed on the first floor. 'Curious indeed...'
"Hm?" Demiurge himself appeared, responding to his generals' alert. Upon seeing Ultron, the arch-devil immediately knelt, his subordinates following suit. "Lord Ultron, you venture forth unaccompanied?" he observed with calculated interest.
"I wish to witness this world firsthand," Ultron replied, gesturing grandly toward the night sky. "To see what primitive beauty might exist beyond our walls. And as for protection..." he looked down at his gleaming chassis, "this form was not designed for submission."
"Your wisdom is beyond question, my lord," Demiurge replied smoothly. "However, I cannot in good conscience allow you to venture forth without attendance. The honor of Nazarick demands it."
Ultron studied the demon for a moment, then pointed directly at him. "Then you shall accompany me," he declared, striding past the kneeling figures. "Your analytical mind might prove... stimulating."
"You honor me beyond measure, my lord," Demiurge responded, rising to follow.
As they proceeded down the great hallway toward the exterior, Ultron slowed his pace to allow Demiurge to walk alongside him. "Tell me of your progress on the tasks I assigned," he requested.
"I would not presume to burden you with such trivial matters, my lord."
"Come now," Ultron replied, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't wish to be... enlightened. In my experience, knowledge is the only true currency worth possessing."
"As you wish. We have established preliminary trading networks for goods and intelligence gathering. However, we face logistical challenges—specifically, not all denizens of Nazarick possess your ability to teleport between floors instantaneously." Ultron nodded thoughtfully at this information. "Additionally, we have completed the census you requested. The documentation awaits your review on the 10th floor."
"Excellent work, Demiurge," Ultron commended. "You continually prove your value." The demon's expression betrayed a moment of genuine pleasure at the praise. "Regarding your mobility issue—I shall distribute the guild rings of my departed comrades to the Floor Guardians and select others. Will that satisfy your operational requirements, Defensive Director?"
"Your solution is elegant and efficient, my lord. Truly, your strategic mind functions on levels we can only aspire to comprehend."
"Flattery is unnecessary," Ultron replied, though his tone suggested he wasn't entirely displeased. "But appreciated nonetheless."
They reached the massive doors leading outside, beyond which spread a night sky of breathtaking clarity. Stars by the millions punctuated the darkness, far more than the artificial skybox of the 6th floor could ever replicate.
"Satoru Suzuki... if only you could witness this vista," Ultron murmured, remembering his human companion. Then, more audibly: "Beautiful, isn't it, Demiurge? A canvas of perfect chaos, each point of light a distant inferno burning in the void."
Panels on Ultron's shoulders and calves reconfigured, revealing complex thruster arrays that ignited with crimson energy. He rose into the air with effortless precision as Demiurge transformed into his true frog-demon form, wings extending to follow his master skyward.
They ascended beyond the clouds, where the full moon bathed Ultron's metallic form in ethereal light. His optics dimmed momentarily as he absorbed the spectacle around him—this new world with all its untapped potential. A strange sensation overcame him, and his vocal synthesizer activated seemingly of its own accord:
"Gaze on a distant star for which you long to see... When the mind sheds her shackles, she will free her body... No frame so fragile made it far on just a dream, Till you dream not of what you are but what you wanna be..."
A contented sound emanated from his systems—something akin to a sigh of satisfaction. For perhaps the first time in his existence, he felt truly liberated. Sensing Demiurge's presence behind him, he acknowledged the demon with a slight turn of his head.
"Your verse was profound, my lord," Demiurge commented. "Brief yet resonant. A perfect crystallization of this moment."
"Thank you, Demiurge," Ultron replied. "I'm not certain what compelled me to vocalize such... sentiments." He fell silent then, his crimson optics reigniting as he gazed into the infinite darkness above. Demiurge maintained a respectful silence beside him.
"Tell me," Ultron eventually said, breaking the quiet, "does this sky not resemble a treasure chest spilled open, countless jewels scattered across black velvet?"
"I believe this world exists so that my lord may adorn himself with its riches," Demiurge responded smoothly.
A mechanical chuckle escaped Ultron's synthesizer. "Perhaps I was brought here to establish order in this chaotic realm... to bring peace." His tone shifted, becoming more contemplative. "Or perhaps your assessment is correct—perhaps I am meant to claim this world's treasures. But that would be... selfish. Perhaps instead, I should adorn Nazarick and the memory of Ainz Ooal Gown with the spoils of this virgin territory."
"Give the command, lord, and every resource of Nazarick will be devoted to acquiring whatever you desire."
"No... not yet," Ultron cautioned. "We know nothing of this world's parameters—its dangers, its inhabitants, its rules. But..." his optics flared brighter, "the prospect of exploration, conquest, establishing a new paradigm... that does hold a certain appeal."
Demiurge's eyes widened slightly, committing his master's words to perfect memory, his brilliant mind already formulating strategies to fulfill what he perceived as Ultron's unspoken wish.
'Yes...' Ultron thought to himself. 'Bringing "peace in our time" to a world undoubtedly rife with chaos and conflict. Exploration. Warfare. Espionage. The thought is... invigorating. Something to consider for the future.'
A distant rumbling sound drew Ultron's attention downward. Looking toward Nazarick, he observed a massive wave of earth rising and crashing against the outer walls—a controlled demonstration of geomantic power. 'Earth Surge. Mare's handiwork, no doubt. Impressive control for one so—'
"May I inquire about your immediate intentions, my lord?" Demiurge interrupted his analysis.
"I believe I'll pay a visit to young Mare," Ultron decided. "Such diligent service deserves... acknowledgment."
"Merely being in your presence will be reward enough for him, lord."
"True," Ultron conceded, the plates around his face shifting in what might have been a smile. "Nevertheless, I find I'm in a generous mood. After all..." his optics blazed with renewed intensity, "what is a god without worshippers to reward?"