Sirius waited until the villagers calmed before speaking again. Their cheers and frantic devotion still echoed in the wooden room, but he lifted a hand, carefully, and the noise died instantly. Even in their awe, they feared disappointing him.
'Good. Fear was a useful stabilizer when information was scarce.'
"I require solitude," Sirius announced, his voice smooth and cold. "Leave me to gather my strength."
The villagers bowed so low their foreheads nearly drilled holes into the floor. One by one, they scampered out of the shrine room as if their lives depended on obeying instantly. The moment the last villager shut the door behind them, Sirius exhaled an imaginary breath and slumped slightly.
"Alright," he muttered under his breath, "first things first."
He tapped his temple with a bony finger.
"Where… exactly am I?"
He scanned the shrine again. The carvings were crude. The offerings were even more pathetic. The runes were horribly drawn. It was not a temple built by a grand necromancer or powerful overlord. Everything about the room said "poor villagers trying their hardest with absolutely no guidance."
He stepped outside quietly.
The night was cool. Crickets chirped. The moon bathed the tiny settlement in silver light. Wooden huts were arranged in uneven rows. Chickens slept in straw pens. A well stood in the center of the village. Farther out, he saw fields stretching into the darkness. They remained unplowed, nearly abandoned, likely due to fear or poverty.
This was no kingdom. Not even a town but barely a village.
Sirius crossed his arms, observing everything. "So this is where I'm supposed to be a god."
He almost laughed.
"Who would have thought I would end up getting summoned. To such a place!" This place had no defenses. No magical infrastructure. No signs of advanced ritual knowledge. They had managed to summon him only through sheer desperation and blind faith.
The worst combination.
He needed information and he needed it immediately.
As if fate agreed, a hesitant voice spoke behind him.
"L-Lord Sirius…?"
He turned.
A girl, no older than sixteen, stood near the shrine steps. She wore simple wool clothes and held a basket filled with clothes and herbs. She was trembling, though it was unclear whether from the cold or from fear of him.
"Speak," he said, adjusting his tone to something slightly less chilling. "What is your name?"
"M-Mira, my lord."
"Mira." Sirius stepped closer, watching her stiffen in terror. "Tell me something. What is this place?"
She blinked, startled. "You… don't remember, Lord Sirius?"
He gave a slow, regal nod. "Humor me."
Mira swallowed hard but obeyed.
"This is Ainz, my lord. The Village of Ainz. Named by you. It—it has always been yours."
Ainz.
Sirius resisted the urge to groan.
So the original Lich was egotistical enough to name an entire village by himself. Very humble. Very subtle. Clearly a genius.
Sirius folded his hands behind his back. "And how long have I ruled it?"
"F-For generations," Mira whispered. "We do not know when you first came. Our grandparents worshipped you. Their grandparents worshipped you. The stories say you protected us from the outside world… from slavers, monsters, and tyrants."
Protected. 'Interesting.' He nodded mentally.
"And yet," Sirius said softly, "I still… fell."
Mira flinched. Her fingers tightened around the basket.
"Yes," she said, her voice trembling. "You… left the village three months ago. The High Kingdom demanded tribute again. They asked for too much grain, coin, and people. When we refused, their knights came and took twelve children."
Sirius's jaw tightened.
Children.
"The elders begged you to intervene," Mira whispered. "And you did without hesitation. You went to the kingdom's outpost to demand their freedom."
"And then?"
Her eyes watered.
"They killed you."
Sirius paused.
Killed a lich? A real one?
'I thought a Lich was unkillable?'
There were two possibilities. Either the original was weaker than he expected… or the kingdom had stronger forces than this remote place suggested.
"How?" Sirius asked quietly.
"We… we don't know," Mira admitted. "The villagers near the battlefield said a bright light swallowed you. When it faded… nothing was left but bones. Your bones. Your soul was gone."
She shuddered, her voice cracking.
"We could not accept that our undying god was slain… so we brought you home. We kept you safe. We kept praying. We carved runes into your bones so you would not forget who you were. We offered sacrifices. We chanted for nights on end. We believed… we believed…"
Her voice failed completely.
Sirius studied her calmly.
The original Lich had tried to protect them. Not terrorize them. A surprise! He'd expected a petty villain, not a desperate guardian.
"And now," Sirius murmured, "you believe your god has returned."
Mira nodded, tears streaming. "You rose again. You cannot die. You are our Undying Ruler."
Undying.
He looked down at his skeletal hands.
"Well," Sirius muttered, "I died once already, so that's already inaccurate."
But the idea was intriguing.
Undying Ruler. A title, a symbol, and a form of political leverage.
If they believed he couldn't die, they'd be loyal. If enemies believed it… they'd fear him. And if he cultivated this identity correctly… this world could open up to him.
He turned away from Mira and examined the village again.
He needed more than loyalty. He needed structure. He needed control.
He also needed to avoid blowing up the entire settlement with his overflowing mana.
A flicker of energy pulsed inside him, and Sirius winced.
Too much mana. Way, way too much.
"Right," he muttered, placing a mental wall around his power. "Mana use is forbidden until further notice. I'll destroy half the countryside if I sneeze wrongly."
He needed an outlet. And he definitely needed to practice.
Training and discipline? Yes please!
A sudden idea sparked.
A village-wide mana competition.
Small, controlled spells. Low mana. A perfect way to gather intel and gauge the villagers' abilities.
He turned back to Mira. "Summon the elders. And any who possess magical ability."
Her eyes widened. "R-Right now, Lord Sirius?"
"Yes," he said simply.
She sprinted away without another word.
Sirius walked toward the village center, his robes trailing behind him. As he went, he analyzed everything.
The huts were of poor quality, but salvageable.
The fields were left untended to but they were very fertile. The paths remained muddy, uneven, and unprotected.
As for the people, they were fearful and loyal, but they were untrained.
The village itself was isolated, defenseless, and worse, it was vulnerable.
He could fix this and he would definitely fix this.
He had no intention of living as a powerless figurehead in a backwater settlement, nor would he dive recklessly into battle like the original Lich did.
He would build, he would learn. He would grow, and he would rule.
Not because he was evil but because he didn't trust anyone else to do so.
By the time he reached the well, a crowd had already formed. Mira had been efficient.
The elders knelt first, followed by several younger villagers holding crude staves and wooden charms, their "mages," presumably.
One of the elders, an older woman with a crooked spine, bowed deeply. "Lord Sirius. We are honored."
Sirius raised a hand. "Enough formalities. I require information. General knowledge of your magic capabilities."
The villagers exchanged confused glances.
"We… do not have much, my lord," one said hesitantly. "Only a few can spark fire or move water slightly. Our mana is weak."
"Not anymore," Sirius declared.
They gasped.
He let the silence stretch, letting authority settle around him like a cloak.
"I will host a competition," Sirius announced. "Tomorrow, at sunrise. All who possess even a sliver of mana will participate. You will demonstrate control, strength, and creativity."
They murmured among themselves. Some were hopeful while others were frightened. Even a few of them were uncertain.
Sirius continued. "The winner shall receive an artifact from my personal treasury."
That caused an uproar. "An artifact?"
"His treasury?"
"Our god blesses us!"
"Truly, the Undying Ruler has returned!"
Sirius inwardly sighed.
He had no idea what "treasury" the original Lich had left behind. For all he knew, it contained dust and questionable bones. He'd deal with that later.
For now, they needed motivation. And he needed to observe them.
He raised both hands, gesturing for silence. "Go. Prepare. Tomorrow, your true potential begins."
The villagers dispersed instantly, shouting in excitement. Mira lingered behind.
"Lord Sirius," she whispered, "why… why a competition?"
Sirius looked at her with empty but radiant eyes.
"To build a future," he said simply. "To understand my people. And to strengthen them."
He paused, his tone lowering. "This world killed me once already. I have no intention of allowing that to happen again."
Mira bowed, tears in her eyes. "We… we believe in you, my lord. We always have."
Sirius watched her run off, then turned toward the shrine.
Night was deep now. Stars glittered coldly above. The village settled into uneasy excitement.
Sirius stood quietly for a moment, letting the wind pass through his rib cage.
He remembered slipping in his bathroom. He remembered dying. He remembered the embarrassment.
And now?
Now he was a Lich. A ruler. A symbol. A god to these people.
No, he thought. Not a god.
Something more useful.
A leader.
He placed a hand on his chest, bone clicking softly under his touch.
"This world gave me a second chance," he said quietly to the night. "I shall not waste it."
He turned toward the shrine, ready to examine whatever "treasury" the original Lich had left behind.
Tomorrow, the competition would begin.
Tomorrow, he would about learn the village's strengths and weaknesses.
Tomorrow, the path to power would start in earnest.
The Undying Ruler had returned. And this time, he wasn't going to die in a restroom.