Chapter 6: The Steward's Oath and the Whispers of the Deep
The air in the clearing hung thick and cold, the silence broken only by the faint drip of water from moss-laden branches and the distant, mournful croak of some unseen marsh creature. Elian Hollow, or rather the Overlord Ainz Ooal Gown inhabiting his form, faced the man known as Master Tian. The surrounding men – Hal, Timms, Wat, and Petyr – were thankfully at the edge of the clearing, following his orders to establish a defensive perimeter and scout their immediate surroundings. It gave him the privacy he desperately needed for this conversation.
"You wished to speak privately, Master Tian," Elian began, his youthful voice deliberately calm, though a storm of anticipation and suspicion raged within him. He gestured towards the central, altar-like stone. "Here, amidst these ancient sentinels, seems as good a place as any. Speak freely."
The old man, Tian, inclined his head, his silver hair catching the dim, filtered light. His gaze, usually so placid and scholarly, now held an intensity that was almost unnerving. He took a step closer, his eyes fixed on Elian's.
"My lord," Tian began, his voice a low, resonant timber that seemed to vibrate with unspoken emotion. "Since my arrival at Greywater Keep, I have observed you closely. Your wisdom belies your youth, your command is… absolute, and your capabilities in the arcane arts, even with seemingly limited reserves, are extraordinary. They remind me, with a clarity that pierces my very soul, of a former, most revered master I once had the unsurpassed honor to serve."
Momonga's non-existent heart clenched. Former master? The phrasing was… specific. Hope, dangerous and intoxicating, warred with his ingrained caution.
"Many lords dabble in knowledge, Tian," Elian countered, his voice carefully neutral. "And necessity breeds competence. What makes my… talents… so noteworthy to a seasoned scholar such as yourself?"
Tian's gaze did not waver. "It is not merely talent, my lord. It is the… essence. The bearing. The profound intellect that directs even the smallest action." He paused, and then, in a voice barely above a whisper, a voice laden with an almost unbearable weight of reverence, he said, "There was a place… a sanctuary of unparalleled grandeur, ruled by beings of supreme power. The Great Tomb of Nazarick."
The name. It struck Momonga with the force of a physical blow. His carefully constructed composure nearly shattered. Only years of discipline as Suzuki Satoru, the lonely salaryman, and further centuries as the stoic Overlord, allowed him to maintain a semblance of outward calm. His mind, however, was a maelstrom.
"Nazarick…" Elian breathed, the name tasting alien yet profoundly familiar on his human tongue. He looked deep into Tian's eyes, searching, probing. "A fanciful name. From some forgotten legend, perhaps?"
Tian's expression softened, a flicker of profound sorrow and then a burgeoning, radiant hope illuminating his aged features. He took another step, and then, with a grace and solemnity that was breathtaking, he slowly sank to one knee, his head bowed. The simple traveler's staff lay beside him in the mud.
"It is no legend to those who called it home, my Lord," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "To those who pledged their eternal fealty to its master. To the one who bears the name of Ainz Ooal Gown." He lifted his head, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "It is I, Sebas Tian, your most humble butler and servant, who has, by some impossible miracle, found you in this strange and hostile land. My Lord Ainz… you are alive!"
The world seemed to tilt. Ainz Ooal Gown. Sebas Tian. Here. Kneeling before him in a stinking bog in a world that shouldn't exist. The carefully maintained dam of Momonga's emotions finally broke. An overwhelming flood of relief, of joy so profound it was almost painful, washed through him. He wasn't alone. One of his children, one of his most loyal and steadfast creations, was here.
His hand, the hand of Elian Hollow, trembled slightly as he reached out, wanting to touch Sebas's shoulder, to offer some gesture, but he hesitated. The "Elian" persona was still a necessary shield.
"Sebas…" he said, his voice barely a whisper, the name feeling both strange and wonderfully right. He cleared his throat, forcing strength back into his tone. "Rise, Sebas. Rise."
Sebas Tian rose, his movements fluid and precise, his gaze never leaving his master's face, drinking in every detail of this new, youthful form. There was no doubt in his eyes, only absolute, unwavering recognition and devotion.
"How?" Ainz managed, the single word encompassing a universe of questions. "The shutdown… YGGDRASIL… how are you here? Are the others…?"
"My Lord," Sebas began, his voice regaining its customary calm, though the underlying emotion was still palpable. "The last I remember was the final moment in the Throne Room, awaiting the server shutdown with you. Then, a sensation of falling, of displacement. I found myself in this world, alone, weeks ago. I do not know the fate of the other Supreme Beings, nor of my fellow Guardians, save that I am here, and now, by your divine will, I have found you." He recounted his arrival, the faint mental call he had perceived – your call, my Lord, I knew it was you – his journey, the rumors that led him to Greywater Keep, and his observations of "Elian Hollow."
Ainz listened, his mind rapidly processing the information. Sebas's arrival mirrored his own. The mental call had worked, at least for one. "I… I am no longer in my former body, Sebas. This form… it is human. Weak. My magic, while still mine, is constrained by a limited reserve of mana. It grows, but slowly, fueled by… by taking lives."
Sebas's expression didn't change, his loyalty absolute. "Your form matters not, my Lord. You are Ainz Ooal Gown, the last of the Supreme Beings, our creator and master. Your commands are our purpose. This vessel you inhabit may be different, but the essence of your greatness shines through. And if souls are the currency of power in this realm, then this realm shall provide them in abundance for your ascension."
Ainz felt a warmth spread through him, a feeling he hadn't realized he'd missed so desperately – the unquestioning loyalty, the profound connection he shared with his creations. "Thank you, Sebas. Your presence… it is a greater treasure than any I could have hoped for."
He took a deep breath, the Overlord persona reasserting itself, though tempered by a deep, internal joy. "We have much to discuss, much to plan. The others… Albedo, Demiurge, Shalltear… all of them. We must find them."
"Indeed, my Lord," Sebas affirmed. "My senses are yours to command. I will scour this land for any trace of them."
Their attention then turned to their immediate surroundings – the ancient, moss-covered stones. "These stones, Sebas," Ainz said, gesturing towards them. "They emanate a strong, if dormant, magical aura. And this amulet…" He pulled the obsidian disc from beneath his tunic. "I found it in some ruins. It seems to resonate with this place, to amplify my senses."
Sebas stepped closer, his keen eyes examining the stones, then the amulet in Ainz's hand. Even without his full combat gear or Nazarick's artifacts, Sebas's inherent senses were formidable. "The magic is ancient, my Lord. Pre-human, I would venture. The symbols are unlike any I have encountered, yet they feel… primal. The amulet seems to act as a key, or a focus, perhaps to awaken or commune with whatever power resides here." He looked at Ainz. "Caution is advised. Such old magic can be… unpredictable."
Ainz nodded. With Sebas beside him, he felt a surge of confidence he hadn't experienced since arriving in this world. He stepped towards the central altar-like slab, the amulet held out before him. As he did, the amulet pulsed with a warm light, and the faint symbols on the stones themselves began to glow with a soft, ethereal luminescence – first green, then shifting to a deep, watery blue. A wave of cold, ancient energy washed over them, not hostile, but immensely powerful, like the exhalation of a slumbering titan.
Ainz felt a pressure in his mind, and then, a torrent of fragmented images and whispers filled his consciousness: towering forests under a primeval sky, figures with dappled skin and leaf-like hair performing rituals around these very stones, their voices like the rustling of leaves and the murmur of water. He saw strange, multi-limbed beasts stalking through primordial swamps, and a sense of deep, protective magic being woven into the land itself. The Children of the Forest, as Maester Hannis had called them. This was their place. A place of power, of guardianship.
The vision faded, leaving Ainz momentarily disoriented. "The Children… this was one of their sacred sites," he murmured, looking at Sebas. "Guarded. There's something… sleeping here. Or bound."
As if in response to his words, the murky water around the base of the stones began to churn. A low, guttural growl echoed through the clearing, a sound that vibrated deep in their chests. From the black water, a colossal form began to rise – scales like blackened iron, a long, serrated snout filled with teeth like daggers, and six baleful, reptilian eyes glowing with a malevolent, yellow light. It was a monstrous crocodilian beast, easily thirty feet long, its hide thick and gnarled like ancient wood, clearly the apex predator of this part of the Blackmorass, and perhaps its designated guardian.
"My Lord!" Sebas exclaimed, instantly stepping before Ainz, his stance shifting from respectful butler to formidable warrior, his hands held ready.
The men at the edge of the clearing, alerted by the unnatural growl and the churning water, cried out in alarm. "Lord! What is that thing?!" Hal shouted, his voice cracking.
"A guardian, it seems," Ainz said calmly, though his mind was already calculating. This creature was powerful, far more so than the bog-suckers. Its soul would be a significant boon. "Sebas, engage it. Do not reveal your full capabilities unless absolutely necessary. We still have an audience. I will support you."
"As you command, My Lord!" Sebas replied, his voice filled with battle readiness.
The monstrous crocodilian lunged, its massive jaws snapping shut with the force of a battering ram. Sebas moved with blinding speed, a blur of motion that seemed impossible for his aged human guise. He didn't have his usual combat gloves, but his fists, imbued with potent ki, were weapons enough. He sidestepped the lunge with an almost contemptuous ease, his fist lashing out to strike the creature on its snout – a sensitive point for most reptiles.
THWACK!
The sound was like an axe hitting oak. The beast roared in pain and surprise, recoiling slightly. It was clearly not used to prey fighting back with such force.
Ainz, meanwhile, raised his hand. "[Maximized Magic: Lightning]!" A brilliant bolt of azure lightning, far more potent than any simple [Magic Arrow], erupted from his palm and struck the creature squarely on its flank. Its scales smoked, and it thrashed wildly, but the thick, magically resistant hide seemed to absorb much of the blow.
Resistant to lightning, then, Ainz noted. Or simply incredibly durable.
The creature, enraged, focused its fury on Sebas, who was now a whirlwind of precise, powerful strikes. He moved like a phantom, his blows landing with incredible force on the creature's joints, its eyes, any vulnerable point he could find. To Hal, Timms, and the Oakhaven men, who had cautiously advanced, weapons ready but utterly dwarfed by the scale of the conflict, it looked as though the elderly Master Tian had transformed into a legendary hero from the Age of Heroes, his movements too fast to follow, his power inexplicable.
"Hold the perimeter!" Ainz commanded his men, his voice cutting through their fear. "Do not let it escape into the wider marsh if it tries to flee!"
He then focused on the beast again, cycling through his known spells. Fire might be effective against a swamp creature. "[Maximized Magic: Fireball]!" A sphere of roaring flame manifested and shot towards the beast, exploding against its side. This time, it shrieked, a high-pitched, reptilian sound of genuine agony, as flames licked at its tough hide.
The combined assault was relentless. Sebas, weaving and striking, was a masterclass in martial prowess, his ki-enhanced blows cracking scales and drawing ichor. Ainz, from a slight distance, provided magical support, launching empowered spells that exploited any opening Sebas created. He was careful to use spells that, while powerful, could still conceivably be wielded by an exceptionally gifted human sorcerer, rather than the overwhelming, reality-bending magic of his true Overlord form.
Finally, with a devastating uppercut from Sebas that snapped its massive neck with an audible crack, and a final, concentrated [Negative Burst] from Ainz that visibly withered its remaining life force, the colossal guardian of the stones thrashed one last time and then lay still, its six yellow eyes glazing over.
Silence descended again, broken only by the heavy panting of the men and the crackle of lingering flames on the creature's hide. Ainz felt a massive influx of spiritual energy, far greater than anything before. His mana reserves swelled, a significant portion of his capacity refilling, and the upper limit expanding noticeably. This single kill was worth dozens of bandits.
Hal, Timms, Wat, and Petyr stared, their faces a mixture of terror, disbelief, and utter, abject awe. Their young lord, who they already knew was touched by strange powers, and his quiet, elderly scholar companion, had just slain a monster that would have been the stuff of nightmares for any other knightly company in the Seven Kingdoms.
Sebas straightened, bowing slightly towards Ainz, his breathing perfectly even despite the ferocious battle. "The threat is neutralized, my Lord." There was a subtle gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.
Ainz nodded, then turned to his other men. "Secure the carcass. Its hide and teeth may be valuable. Master Tian," he said, his voice carrying clearly, ensuring the men heard the established dynamic, "your… surprising martial skill was invaluable. It seems your youth was more adventurous than you let on."
Sebas offered a serene, humble smile. "One learns what one must to survive, my lord. I am merely grateful I could be of service."
Ainz looked back at the now quiescent standing stones. The symbols had faded, the palpable energy receding, though not entirely gone. The guardian was dead. What did that mean for this place?
"We will make camp here for the night," Ainz declared. "Properly this time. Tomorrow, we investigate these stones further, and then we return to Greywater Keep." He glanced at Sebas, a silent understanding passing between them. They had much to discuss, much to plan. The first of his Guardians had been found. The future of Ainz Ooal Gown in this new world, while still uncertain, suddenly looked considerably brighter. And the Blackmorass, it seemed, had more secrets – and more power – to offer.