Chapter 17: The Guardian of Humanity (8)
"A Talent," Kaiser began, turning the small gem in his palm so that its faint inner glow danced across his fingers, "is what people call the unique power granted to certain beings from another world. In ancient times, they used to say it was 'the power given to humanity to kill gods.'"
He chuckled softly. "That's an exaggeration, of course. It's not divine — just… extraordinary. You could call it a 'special ability,' one that completely ignores the usual laws or conditions of the world."
At a glance, he looked like a man muttering to himself. But the jewel wasn't just any ornament — it was a communication stone, a relic he had forged long ago with a dwarven friend.
It had been a partial success: functional, but limited to one-to-one contact and impossible to mass-produce. Few people even knew it existed. A few collectors of rare artifacts might have one, though Kaiser doubted any could make use of it now.
He still remembered lending one to the Holy Kingdom during its final, desperate years. If they'd survived long enough to keep it, maybe it was still being used somewhere.
From the other side of the link, a calm, resonant voice replied — rich and deliberate, almost theatrical in tone.
[I see.]
It was Ainz Ooal Gown — though in this context, perhaps Momon was the better name. From what Kaiser had heard, Ainz was posing as an adventurer in E-Rantel, accompanied by one of his subordinates, gathering information firsthand.
Kaiser found the thought almost amusing. He hoped the undead overlord would meet decent people there — maybe even form a favorable impression of humanity.
He himself had considered joining, but decided against it. Better to give Ainz the space to feel in control, to enjoy the illusion of autonomy.
After a short pause, Ainz spoke again.
[A separate question: is it possible for me to learn martial arts? Or perhaps for the others of Nazarick… no, even the undead I summon?]
"Technically, it's not impossible," Kaiser said, leaning back. "But we're talking about a one-in-a-million chance — maybe less. There was one case, an Elder Lich who managed to manifest a martial art on its own. Only one technique, and a weak one at that, but still… it was revolutionary."
[And what happened to it?]
"It died right after," Kaiser replied simply. "Not because of the technique — it was already dying. Maybe it was that desperation, that final spark of life, that let it awaken the art in the first place."
He smiled faintly. "In that sense, I'd say beings like you, Ainz-san — or your Guardians — might be capable of it someday. You've all got overwhelming potential. But it would take… a very long time."
[A pity.]
"Perhaps," Kaiser said, "but not hopeless. Given eternity, even a being without life could stumble into it."
There was a contemplative hum through the stone.
[Then tell me, what is a martial art, really? You've lived longer than most; surely you know.]
Kaiser tapped a finger against the gem, thinking.
"Let's call it a technique born from life itself," he said at last. "Magic draws from mana, from spirit. Martial arts draw from vitality — the raw essence of living flesh. They're born when that life force resonates with something unshakable inside the soul — obsession, love, hatred, the will to protect someone… It's not about whether the emotion is good or bad. It's about how strong it burns."
That was why more martial artists emerged in ages of war than in peace.
Those who awakened new techniques were always people forced to the brink, fighting for their lives.
"Nowadays," Kaiser added, "people only imitate what's already been discovered. Few try to create new arts — because to do that, you have to stand on the edge of death."
[I see. Even so, perhaps I should experience it firsthand.]
"I doubt even a human martial art could harm you," Kaiser said lightly. "But perhaps you're right. Seeing it with your own eyes might still be worth it."
[Indeed. One mustn't assume one's own uniqueness. Anything I can imagine, an opponent might as well. It's a principle of battle worth remembering.]
Kaiser nodded to himself. "So he doesn't let his guard down," he thought. Even without truly understanding the world's power levels yet, Ainz remained cautious — rational.
Was it the nature of undeath, or the temperament of the man he once was? Kaiser couldn't tell. But it made him wary in turn.
"That's good advice," he said aloud. "I should probably fight with that mindset more often."
[I doubt that. A being who has protected humanity for centuries should know that lesson better than I.]
Kaiser gave a dry laugh. "You give me too much credit. I'm not clever — just stubborn. What I do isn't grand strategy. It's deterrence. Someone has to stand up and bear the weight, even when no one else can. I just happen to be the one who does."
He smiled faintly, his tone growing softer.
"In that sense," he said, "maybe I'm not so different from your Guardians after all."
Kaiser slipped the faintly glowing communication stone back into his pocket and sighed.
The line had gone silent — Ainz had signed off with his usual courtesy.
"Protecting different things, huh…" Kaiser murmured.
"Guess that's where we differ."
He had no particular loyalty to humanity — not in the sentimental sense. He didn't protect them out of devotion, but out of duty, or perhaps habit. It was something that needed to be done, so he did it. Someone had to.
Still, Ainz intrigued him. Power on that scale, yet no arrogance — no reckless confidence. The Eight Greed Kings had been far more conceited than this, their downfall inevitable.
Ainz, on the other hand, was careful. Strategic. A being who knew exactly how fragile omnipotence could be.
"Honestly," Kaiser muttered, scratching the back of his head, "I'd rather not make him an enemy. But his subordinates…"
He didn't need to finish the thought.
Every NPC created by a Player inherited the same fatal flaw — absolute reverence for their creator and absolute contempt for everything else.
And Nazarick's denizens were a concentrated expression of that. Their pride was beyond even the most zealous of fanatics.
"Normally, I'd just take them one by one," Kaiser mused, half-smiling. "But they can resurrect, can't they? What kind of broken balance is that supposed to be?"
For the man considered invincible in this world, the thought was almost amusing. Almost.
....
The Red Scorpion Band
Elsewhere, things were far less apocalyptic.
To be frank, it was… disappointingly easy.
The Red Scorpion Band had been described as dangerous — their leader supposedly strong enough to warrant an Adamantite-class request — but reality proved otherwise.
Hekkeran had taken down the gate sentries almost effortlessly, and the rest of Foresight had infiltrated without resistance.
If this was supposed to be a high-risk mission, it was a poorly constructed one.
Arche herself had only accepted it because recent reports suggested the band had turned from thieves to butchers — massacring entire villages.
That was something she couldn't ignore.
'If it's really just a third-tier caster leading them, this shouldn't even be difficult,' she thought, tightening her grip on her staff.
Thanks to the Sage's Rosary, her confidence in magic battles was absolute.
Even the legendary Fluder Paradyne — her old master — would struggle against her if the artifact was taken into account.
And yet, Arche wasn't arrogant; she was determined. Someday, she would surpass him through her own strength, not borrowed power.
"This is going too smoothly," Imina murmured, running her thumb along her bowstring. "Almost feels like a trap."
A reasonable suspicion.
If even a Mithril-ranked team could have handled this, why assign it to an Adamantite?
They hadn't yet met the leader — and until they did, carelessness would be fatal.
"Arche," Hekkeran asked quietly, "you know anything about this leader?"
She nodded. "Name's Parkas. Used to be a Worker, like me. Got greedy, turned outlaw. Back then he could only use second-tier magic — but it's been years. We should assume he's at least third-tier now."
Hekkeran's expression darkened. "I met him a few times before he fell. Ambitious man, sure — but not evil. When I heard he'd started slaughtering civilians, I was shocked. Never thought he'd go that far."
He sighed, shaking his head.
Parkas had once reminded him of Arche — a gifted, driven mage obsessed with money, chasing survival through skill.
But where Arche had risen, purified through struggle, Parkas had fallen deeper into the shadows, consumed by greed.
Now, it was up to Arche — the girl who had once walked that same path — to bring his story to an end.
"Everyone, any injuries?"
"We're fine. Just some small scratches — a bit of antiseptic and they'll heal."
They conserved the cleric's mana whenever injuries weren't serious enough to require it. As they moved inside, Imina — who had been walking at the front — stopped and raised a finger. A silent signal: be quiet, and hold. Watching the inner room, she waved.
There was someone inside. Forming up around the door, Hekkeran and Arche took one side, Roberdic and Imina the other.
If it could end with an assassination, that would be the best outcome. Imina drew the bowstring soundlessly and aimed for the target's head. The arrow flew — ting — and hit something invisible before reaching the mark.
It was a barrier. The arrow clattered to the floor after striking the ward, and the man sitting on the chair rose slowly, his eyes bloodshot and red as he turned to look at them. Everyone tightened their grips in alarm.
"This is wrong," someone said.
"Run."
"What?"
Arche cursed herself for the misjudgment. She had sworn not to be arrogant, but perhaps she'd been too confident. They should have learned more about the opponent first.
They should have refused Hekkeran's suggestion to enter and gone back to investigate. If discovery had been unavoidable, they should have retreated when they confirmed the presence inside.
Arche swallowed the maelstrom of regret and said more plainly, in case anyone hadn't understood.
"Run. This one is dangerous."
"C-could it be… Hekkeran! He's not human! He's a demon!"
"What!? A demon!?"
Arche tightened her grip on her staff.
Roberdyck's sensitivity as a cleric picked up on the demonic mana. The fact they had only noticed it now felt like the other side intentionally revealing itself — as if it were taunting them to feel fear. Arche, however, kept her composure and faced the enemy, ready to cast spells to immediately protect the others no matter what attack came.
"This one can use fifth-tier magic, and as a demon that makes him even more dangerous. We must go and inform the Worker's Guild or the Adventurers' Guild at once."
"B-but Arche—"
"Lightning."
"Lightning."
Crackling, two bolts of lightning met.
A clash of arcane energies like this between two mana-based mages doesn't resolve easily. If their levels are similar, fights often become protracted affairs. There's a lot to consider when fighting, which is why mana casters generally avoid one-on-one duels.
But Parkas — no, the demon — clearly wanted to fight, and Arche couldn't avoid it. The entity that had possessed Parkas was fixated on her and kept targeting the Foresight members behind her. The demon instinctively judged who was weaker, who would be easiest to catch.
"If I turn my back you'll be attacked immediately. How long do you expect me to hold them off? Do you have any way to protect yourself against that spell? Or can you take that attack bare-handed and still stand?"
Arche could do it.
Because she had the Sage's rosary, taking one or two hits wouldn't kill her or knock her out. But the others weren't the same. If they got hit, it could be instantly fatal — a mortal wound.
"But we can't leave Arche alone!"
"That's right. Let's think of a way to fight together!"
The demon — inside the rotting body of Parkas — let out a disgusting, gurgling laugh. Arche exhaled, her voice a little colder than before.
"Defend."
It was better to fight one-on-one. Otherwise they'd be forced into a disadvantageous fight where they had to protect each other while also fighting.
That wouldn't be good for anyone. Arche knew she should properly apologize later — this was her fault for not investigating well enough. If "that person" had seen, they'd probably scold her about always checking the enemy's information first.
"Hurry and go."
"Got it, Arche. Don't die."
"Wait, Hekkeran!"
"We defend, Imina. Staying beside Arche will only get her killed."
The Foresight party wasn't weak — by skill they could perform well even at Mithril level, and in some circumstances handle pre-Orichalcum missions. But this target was something that in ordinary circumstances only an Adamadite-level could handle.
Not human, and overwhelming as a magic caster. Arche's estimate was that it wasn't quite the great mage Fluder, but it was comparable.
"I'll bring people back soon!"
"May the gods watch over you."
After the others disappeared, Arche turned and stared at the demon that had been Parkas. Had it possessed his body? Or was it merely using the skin of one already dead? Either way, it was absurd that Parkas's band hadn't noticed their boss had become like this — or perhaps they didn't care because they were demons.
The demon chuckled politely at Arche's thoughts that sending Foresight was odd.
"Surprising. I can't believe you're human. You have more talent than him."
The voice was staccato and clipped.
"I'll kill you and use your body this time."
"Ah, of course." Simple and pragmatic — Arche appreciated the clarity of the demon's purpose. It decided focusing on Arche was advantageous rather than attacking other party members.
"You slaughter humanity at will. As someone indebted to 'that one,' I can't just stand by. Tell me why I should forgive you — why I should spare you for selfish reasons."
The demon laughed, kikik.
"Forgive? That's something only the strong say."
"Exactly."
The detached expression in Arche's eyes grew cold, hardening like ice.
"Tell me why I should forgive you."
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