Chapter 37: Colliding While Out of Sync (8)
The black warrior strode fearlessly through the royal capital, now shrouded in darkness.
With every swing of his blade, demons were cut down, and cheers erupted all around. His very presence radiated the aura of a hero—none other than Momon the Black, the adamantite-ranked adventurer hailed as the kingdom's hidden trump card.
What began as a mission to eliminate the Eight Fingers had, somehow, transformed into a desperate operation to defend the capital against demons.
At the very center of it all stood this hero, who had volunteered to take on the most dangerous position.
Admiration filled the eyes of all who looked upon him.
But for the one beneath the mask, Ainz, the situation was far from ideal.
"Forget all that—I just want this over with already!"
Though he maintained his heroic act, unease had begun gnawing at him. Things going according to plan felt reassuring, but now he felt like he was flailing midair, having forgotten the rails he was supposed to follow.
It was all Demiurge's fault.
How had things ended up this way? Why, after accepting a mission, was he now locked in battle against demons in the middle of the capital?
He had, of course, entrusted Demiurge with full authority, but hadn't his original order been to rescue Tuare?
Then why was his subordinate parading around as a demon and tearing the capital apart?
Ainz couldn't see through Demiurge's scheme. He trusted that everything was for Nazarick's benefit, yet being in the dark made his nonexistent guts twist with frustration.
After attending the emergency meeting summoned by Princess Renner, Ainz had intended to confront Demiurge immediately under the pretense of hunting demons.
Unfortunately, others dissuaded him, fearing he was recklessly charging into danger.
From his own perspective, such concern was absurd—Demiurge was his subordinate; nothing could possibly threaten him.
Yet from an outsider's point of view, it looked like a newly minted adamantite warrior was overestimating himself and rushing toward his death.
"Well, I suppose I can't blame them."
Objectively, he was indeed a rookie—an adventurer who had only been at the highest rank for a few months.
Even if his title was lofty, his experience was laughably shallow.
And standing beside him was a true veteran: a living legend whose name had echoed for 150 years. In comparison, Ainz seemed little more than a child, unworthy of bold moves.
Thankfully, the famed Monkyspanner had no interest in fame or glory and chose to withdraw, leaving the stage to Ainz. Had he insisted on fighting together, Ainz would have been in serious trouble.
"I'm not actually that skilled as a warrior. If he pressed me on it, I'd have been exposed."
Even though his [Perfect Warrior] ability granted him the physical capabilities of a level 100 warrior, it did not bestow actual combat skill.
Ainz knew no techniques, no swordsmanship. He was, at heart, an ordinary salaryman who had never wielded a blade in his life.
Even in Yggdrasil, he had taken [Perfect Warrior] only out of admiration for Touch Me, never once using it in real combat.
Months of practice had allowed him to play the part of a warrior, but it was still just an imitation.
Against a true warrior of equal level, he would lose instantly. Ainz was, at his core, a magic caster; his warrior persona was nothing more than a façade.
Still, he pressed forward. This too was part of his grand plan—or so he told himself.
With twin obsidian greatswords flashing, Hellhounds and Greater Hellhounds alike were cut down in a storm of steel.
Each swing scattered flesh and sparks across the battlefield, his overwhelming physical strength creating shockwaves that sent demons flying.
Yet beneath the violent display, doubt lingered.
"There are too many variables here... Could it be that Demiurge accounted for all of this as well?"
Ainz could not shake the sense that he was being swept along by unseen currents.
Earlier, during Princess Renner's meeting, he had nearly lost control—so much so that, for a fleeting moment, he had almost slammed his fist into the head of the adventurer Evileye for her remarks.
Entoma had nearly died.
One of his beloved family members—one of the beings born of nothing and entrusted with life in Nazarick—had almost been snuffed out.
Yes, even if slain, Entoma, as one of the custom-made Pleiades battle maids, could be resurrected with sufficient gold.
But that wasn't the point. The fact that she had been pushed to the brink of death was unacceptable in itself.
Eat people? Kill people? So what?
It wasn't Entoma who sought battle. She had only tried to avoid conflict, and yet the other side seized her, forced the fight, and sought to end her life.
The thought of it brought back bitter memories of Yggdrasil, of the days of persecution. For one brief, dangerous instant, Ainz nearly lost control of himself and almost crushed Evileye—the arrogant insect who had so proudly boasted on that battlefield.
Had he not remembered the dangers of undead emotional suppression—and the Shalltear incident—he might very well have done it.
And if he had, all of the painstaking effort he had poured into building the identity of Momon would have been for nothing.
I'll need to speak with Demiurge about this… Hah… if only I had the ability to read the minds of NPCs.
If such a power existed, Ainz knew where he'd use it most: on Demiurge. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to pry open that scheming mind, to see what infernal plans were spinning inside it—ideally in real time.
Still, he had already sent word through Nabe.
Demiurge would be ready. If Ainz could just learn the true aim behind this orchestrated chaos, then he could finally adjust his own actions accordingly.
Until now, everything had been too improvisational.
Luck had carried him far, even granting him fame and admiration from adventurers and commoners alike—but luck alone was a frail foundation.
He had to uncover Demiurge's full plan.
Acting alone filled him with unease. Playing the role of an adventurer was one thing, but this was different.
Monkyspanners—once thought players, now confirmed to be NPCs—hinted at the presence of another guild-like power in this world.
Could they be making contact even now?
No—he couldn't rely on his own judgment alone. He knew his own intelligence well enough not to trust it completely.
"Any stragglers can be handled by the remaining forces… Nabe, stay vigilant."
"Yes, Momon-san."
Casting a fleeting glance at the remains of slain demons and the awestruck faces of the warriors, Ainz turned away.
To them, he looked every bit the legendary hero—an invincible champion striding through a city saved from despair.
The survivors, hearts aflame with gratitude, showered him with cheers.
Drenched in that roaring tide of admiration, Ainz advanced.
No one stopped him. No one could. The air was charged, the atmosphere whipped into a frenzy by his feats. In such a moment, it would seem natural—even inevitable—for him to press forward alone to vanquish the demons.
Lifting his blade high in a gesture of victory, he let the cheers swell around him before slipping into a steady run.
Soon, a vast square spread out before him. At its center stood a lone figure: a masked demon, brazenly awaiting him in plain sight. No other demons lingered nearby. No adventurers had followed.
Ainz glanced back once, confirming no one had trailed him. Then, slowly, he spoke.
This place, seen by others as a death trap, was of no concern to him. After all, wasn't everything already resting in the palm of his hand? At least, that's what he told himself. Surely Demiurge had arranged it so.
And so, Ainz declared:
"…Very well. Let's hear it then, Demiurge."
"As expected of you, my master—you already see through all. But if there is aught I may answer, I shall speak."
The masked demon—Demiurge—removed his mask and bowed deeply before the obsidian-clad warrior.
Then, lifting his head slightly to survey their surroundings, he continued.
"Yet this place is not fitting for secrets. Might I suggest we move? A more suitable location has been prepared."
"…So be it. I shall hear your tale there. Lead the way."
"At once, my lord."
With another bow, Demiurge took the lead. Ainz followed with deliberate, unhurried steps, the weight of the coming revelation pressing heavily upon him.
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