Sunlight filtered through the forest canopy as Ainz, still in his adventurer guise as Rein, walked calmly beside Nfirea Bareare toward Carne Village. Narberal followed silently, her senses always alert.
Nfirea's steps were slow, weighed down not by injury—but guilt.
"They were good people," he murmured. "Peter… Dyne… even Lukrut. They didn't deserve that."
Ainz didn't speak at first.
"They made a choice," he finally said. "And they made it for someone they cared about."
Nfirea nodded slowly. "Yeah… but it was my fault."
He lowered his voice, jaw clenched.
"Clementine said they needed my talent. That's why she kept me alive. If I didn't have it… maybe they wouldn't have been killed."
Ainz turned his head slightly.
"She didn't kill them because of your talent," he replied. "She killed them because she enjoyed it."
Nfirea didn't argue, but the weight of it lingered in his eyes.
Carne Village came into view not long after.
A young sentry called out, and moments later, Enri came running.
"Nfirea!"
She threw her arms around him, her voice breaking. "You're safe… thank goodness…"
"Barely," he said, exhausted but alive.
Behind her, Lizzie approached at a slower pace, her cane tapping softly.
"Nfirea…" she murmured, relief plain in her eyes. "You're just like your grandfather. That same reckless streak."
"I brought back the herbs," he said softly. "But… the others didn't make it."
Lizzie placed a hand on his shoulder. "Then honor them. Live well."
She looked to Ainz and Narberal next. "You brought him back. That's enough."
"We did only what was needed," Ainz said calmly. "He earned his return."
Later, inside the Bareare household, Nfirea sat quietly on a cushion, knees drawn up, as the village slowly returned to normal. Enri brought food. Lizzie worked with herbs in the back. Narberal stood guard at the door.
At last, Nfirea turned to Ainz.
"You knew about my talent."
Ainz met his eyes. "It's widely known. But what I saw during the curse… it confirmed how attuned you are."
Nfirea nodded. "I can use any magic item. Even ones meant for other races or classes. I've known that since I was young. Most people either want to exploit me or keep me at a distance."
"Your fear isn't unfounded," Ainz said. "But you can still choose how to use it."
"I want to help people," Nfirea muttered. "I don't want anyone else to die for me."
There was a pause.
Then, with quiet resolve, he looked up.
"…Rein, I mean it. I owe you everything. If there's anything you want from me—anything—I'll do it. Just ask."
Ainz studied him carefully.
The sincerity in Nfirea's voice wasn't just emotion—it was purpose.
"You mean that?"
"I do."
"Then focus your talent," Ainz said. "Use your gift to research and improve potion-making. I may call on you again. When I do… I'll expect progress."
Nfirea straightened a little, nodding. "Yes. I'll give it everything I have."
That night, Carne Village held a modest meal beneath the central tree. Ainz and Narberal sat near the edge of the gathering, distant but visible. The mood was quiet, subdued—respectful.
Enri handed Ainz a bowl of broth.
"It's not much," she said.
"Kindness rarely is," he replied.
She hesitated, then asked, "Will you come back?"
"Perhaps."
She gave a small, hopeful smile. "Then… we'll be ready."
At dawn, they prepared to leave.
As they walked away from the village gate, Narberal finally spoke.
"Should I report the boy's promise?"
"Not yet," Ainz said. "Let him develop. When the time comes… he'll be useful."
The sun rose over the forest.
Carne Village faded behind them, but the ties formed here—through blood, debt, and potential—remained.
***************
The gates of E-Rantel rose high above the road, solid and unyielding. To most, they marked the boundary between the safety of the kingdom and the wild unknown. To Ainz, they marked progress.
He passed beneath them quietly, his footsteps steady. Narberal followed beside him, ever alert.
Though they wore the look of common adventurers—dusty cloaks, travel-worn boots—there was purpose in every step. Ainz had no need for dramatics. The game was only beginning.
The Adventurer's Guild was as loud and lively as ever. The clash of mugs, rustle of parchment, and occasional boasts of "dragon-slaying" filled the air. One man was loudly explaining how he'd killed a direwolf barehanded. His limp and bruised cheek suggested otherwise.
Ainz approached the reception desk.
The woman behind the counter blinked, clearly not expecting him back so soon. "Oh, you're back already?"
"We completed the escort to Carne Village," Ainz said, placing the sealed mission form down. "There were... complications."
She hesitated, eyes darting toward Narberal—who met her gaze with an expression as cold as midwinter. Visibly uncomfortable, the receptionist stamped the form without another word.
Then she cleared her throat. "Ah… Guildmaster Ainzach has requested to see you directly."
Already? Ainz thought. That's earlier than expected. Either a reward or... trouble.
He gave a polite nod. "Lead the way."
The Guildmaster's office was quiet, a sharp contrast to the noise below. Old maps lined the walls. A few used weapons rested in a rack near the window. At the center of it all sat Ainzach—tired-looking but alert.
"You're Rein, correct?" he asked, not looking up from a report.
"I am."
"And this is Nabe."
Narberal remained still, offering only the smallest of nods.
Ainzach folded the report and set it down.
"The situation in Carne Village. You know, I expected a routine escort mission. Instead, I hear rumors of necromancers, undead, and explosions. Powerful magic. Dead bodies scorched beyond recognition."
Ainz gave a measured response. "The situation escalated."
Ainzach gave him a long, unreadable look.
"One of the scouts who passed through said your spells looked like they were fired from a siege weapon. You're Silver-ranked?"
"For now," Ainz replied, tone calm.
"Right." Ainzach exhaled through his nose and opened a drawer. "Let's not pretend."
He placed a small box on the table and pushed it forward.
Inside: a Mithril-rank adventurer's plate.
"You handled yourself better than most veterans. No witnesses harmed. No mess for the Guild to clean up. And frankly, we need more like that."
Ainz accepted the plate without comment. Narberal remained stone-faced.
Ainzach leaned back. "You planning to stay in E-Rantel?"
"For a while," Ainz said. "There's more to learn here."
"And more people watching," Ainzach added, half a warning, half an invitation.
"Understood."
Later that evening, the sky above E-Rantel was streaked with gold as the sun dipped behind the walls. The marketplace buzzed with life—children chasing each other through the alleys, merchants haggling over salted fish, adventurers arguing over loot distribution.
Ainz and Narberal walked in silence, weaving through the crowd. He took everything in: the rhythm of daily life, the gossip, the friction and flow of the frontier city.
Mithril rank, secured. Guild connections, established. Nfirea, in position.
Slow steps forward, each one reinforcing the image: Rein, competent adventurer. Nothing more.
"Shall I arrange accommodations and secure a cover for our presence here?" Narberal asked, breaking the quiet.
Ainz nodded. "Yes. Something modest. Adventurer-appropriate. Nothing that attracts attention."
She gave a small bow. "Understood. What name shall I use for the registry?"
Ainz paused. "…Rein. Just Rein."
"And if they ask for a surname?"
"Make one up. Something normal. No 'the Crimson Sovereign of the Ninth Abyss' or anything."
She blinked. "I would never choose something so... grandiose."
Ainz looked away. "…Of course not."
Later, as the crowd thinned and the stars began to peek through the twilight, Ainz stood briefly at a quiet fountain near the center square. The water shimmered in the moonlight. People passed by without a second glance.
No grand declarations. No dramatic standoff.
Just quiet progress.
One piece at a time.
*******************
The dark swirl of [Gate] dissipated, revealing the gleaming obsidian floors of Nazarick's throne room. The moment Ainz stepped through, a voice rang out.
"Welcome home, Lord Ainz."
Albedo knelt in reverence, her golden eyes shining with devotion. The other Guardians flanked her—Aura, Mare, Cocytus, Demiurge—each lowering themselves in perfect sync.
Ainz took a slow breath.
Feels like I've been away for months… though it's only been days. Still, the mood is as intense as ever.
He raised a hand, calm and deliberate. "I have returned."
"My Lord, we rejoice at your safe return," Albedo said, her voice trembling slightly with pride.
"Report," Ainz said as he walked toward the throne. "While I've been operating in E-Rantel, what has occurred in Nazarick?"
Demiurge stepped forward, pushing up his glasses.
"There have been no disturbances. Nazarick's perimeter wards remain untouched. Mare has reinforced concealment layers around the Sixth Floor, anticipating long-range divination attempts."
Mare glanced down shyly. "I-It's not much, but… I thought it might help…"
"You've done well," Ainz said, offering a small nod. Mare flushed at the praise.
Demiurge continued, "Elsewhere, there have been increased Slane Theocracy scouting movements in the Katze Plains. Nothing aggressive yet—but frequent. It may be time to deploy a response."
Ainz tapped a finger against the throne's armrest.
They're probably still hunting powerful undead. If they knew Nazarick was near… they'd be sending armies instead of scouts.
Cocytus stepped forward. "Shall I begin preparing mobile strike forces, my lord?"
"Yes. Lightly armed, mobile units for surface deployment. Let's not reveal our full strength too early."
Cocytus bowed. "Understood."
Ainz turned his gaze toward Demiurge. "Begin drafting a scenario. Something public—measured. Enough to show power… not enough to provoke a coordinated response."
Demiurge's smile grew a fraction. "As you will, Lord Ainz."
Once the formal report concluded, Ainz rose from the throne.
"I'm returning to my chambers for the night. I want a mission proposal for Shalltear ready within the next few days. Focus on something tied to the Theocracy's movements."
"Yes, my lord," Demiurge said with a bow.
As Ainz stepped down from the dais, Albedo took a small step forward, folding her hands with practiced elegance.
"My Lord… if I may make a humble request."
Ainz halted mid-step. Here it comes…
"I would consider it the greatest honor if you allowed me to personally guard your chambers tonight. As recognition for my service while you were away."
Her tone was composed, her posture perfect—but her wings twitched slightly with excitement.
Narberal, arriving with a mission report scroll in hand, tilted her head slightly.
"There is no tactical reason for such a deployment," she stated plainly. "Shall I revise the guard rotation schedule to account for this symbolic arrangement?"
Ainz raised a hand to silence both of them.
He looked at Albedo again. She had executed every order without flaw and managed Nazarick impeccably.
"…Very well," he said. "You may stand guard outside my chamber tonight."
Albedo bowed low, glowing with pride. "I shall guard it with all my heart and strength."
"To be clear," Ainz added quickly, "this is a reward for your loyalty. Nothing more."
"Of course, my Lord," Albedo said with a radiant smile.
She's… not hearing that last part, is she.
That night, in his private chamber, Ainz reviewed intelligence reports. He didn't need rest, but he sat anyway—simply to reflect.
Outside, Albedo stood tall in full armor, wings at ease but eyes alert.
Inside, Ainz stared at the wall for a long moment.
It's fine. Completely professional. Nothing weird about this.
He leaned back slowly and muttered, "…Next time, I'm assigning Sebas to hallway duty instead."
Outside, Albedo began quietly humming. The melody was soft, serene—and very happy.