Kami Miyako – The Pontifex Hall
The sky ripped open.
There was no thunder. Just a sudden, jagged vertical slit in the blue dome of the heavens, leaking pixelated static.
From the rift, a body plummeted.
Zesshi Zetsumei hit the cobblestone courtyard of the Grand Sanctuary at terminal velocity. She didn't bounce. She cratered. The impact shattered stone for fifty meters, turning the holy ground into shrapnel.
Dust choked the air.
"Medic!" screamed a Scripture guard. "The Asset is down!"
A whirlwind of platinum blew the dust away. Tsaindorcus Vaision, the Dragon Lord in his armor shell, hovered over the crater. He ignored the blood pooling around the girl.
He looked at her eyes.
Zesshi lay broken, her limbs twisted at impossible angles, regenerating slowly with sickening pops. She grinned, blood coating her teeth.
"We... delivered it," she wheezed, the dual-voice glitching hard. "He kicked us. But the code stuck. 1% upload complete."
"Excellent." Tsaindorcus turned his back on her. "He expelled the carrier, but he kept the disease. Nazarick is compromised."
The Captain of the Black Scripture ran forward, kneeling by Zesshi. He looked horrified. "She needs healing! High-Tier Resurrection magic won't work if her data is corrupted!"
"Let her rot for now," Tsaindorcus commanded. "She served her purpose."
He floated higher, addressing the Six Cardinals trembling on the balcony.
"Ainz Ooal Gown is distracted. He is watching his Throne. He is panicked."
The Dragon Lord's remote-controlled swords flared with light.
"Launch the crusade. Order the Argland Council to march south. We strike the Sorcerer Kingdom while its god is trying to fix his chair."
"And the weapon?" The Captain shouted, daring to question the Dragon. "Who wields the Sun?"
Tsaindorcus pointed a gauntleted finger at the Captain.
"You do. Do not disappoint me, human. Or I will let the Vampire kill you slowly."
Nazarick – The 10th Floor – Strategic Operations Room
The air was cold.
Ainz sat at the obsidian table, staring at his smartphone hidden behind a stack of reports.
[Throne Status: Infecting (1.2%)...]
[Firewall: Struggling.]
It was spreading. Slowly, but spreading. The 'Virus' wasn't just code; it was a conceptual rewriting of the Guild Base. If it reached 100%, the Guild Weapon might shatter. Or worse, transfer ownership.
Ainz felt the nausea of true stress. Not undead emotional suppression—just raw, gut-curdling fear.
I can't scrub it without a World Item that targets Data. Ginnungagap is physical destruction. I need an antivirus.
"Ainz-sama."
Demiurge stood. The entire tactical team—Albedo, Cocytus, Mare, Aura—leaned in. They looked ready to burn the world down.
"We await your judgment regarding the aggressors."
Ainz looked up. He had to buy time. He needed the enemy focused on the border, not sneaking in more Trojan Horses. He needed a distraction so loud that even the gods would cover their ears.
"Demiurge," Ainz said heavily. "When a computer... excuse me, when a mechanism is clogged with filth, what must one do?"
"One purges it," Demiurge answered instantly.
"One wipes the cache," Ainz corrected, using a term he hoped sounded mystical. "We must clear the operational data of the Theocracy. We must remove their ability to process information."
He gestured to the map—specifically, the lush northern forests of the Theocracy that acted as a natural barrier.
"Remove it."
Demiurge's eyes widened. He looked at the map, then back to Ainz with breathless admiration.
"I... I understand. Sasuga, Ainz-sama. Cruel. Efficient. Ultimate."
"Uh, yes," Ainz nodded. "Ultimate."
Demiurge turned to the Guardians, his tail vibrating.
"Listen well! The Supreme One believes mere conquest is insufficient. The enemy is hiding in the 'data' of the forest—using guerilla tactics and natural cover. To 'clear the cache,' Ainz-sama is ordering the Scorched Earth Protocol."
Albedo licked her lips. "Burn it all?"
"Incorrect. Burning leaves ash," Demiurge smiled, showing far too many teeth. "Ainz-sama wants the land formatted. Stripped of life. Stripped of mana. Reduced to Bedrock."
Ainz raised a hand to stop him—Wait, I just meant smash their outposts!—but then he saw the infection counter tick to 1.3%.
If the Theocracy had launched this virus, they deserved it.
The Satoru Suzuki side of his brain went quiet. The Overlord took the wheel.
"Cocytus," Ainz said. His voice dropped an octave.
"I. Am. Here. My. Lord." The insect warrior stepped forward, frost spreading from his feet.
"You failed to stop the glitch at the dungeon. Do you wish to redeem your honor?"
"More. Than. Life."
"Take the Northern Front. I do not want a battle. I want a massacre. Draw out their champions."
Ainz stood up, the red lights in his eyes blazing.
"I suspect they possess a weapon—the Solar Lance. Find it. And bring it to me."
"It. Shall. Be. Done."
The Northern Border – The Shield Wall of Keyland
Fifty thousand soldiers of the Slane Theocracy stood on the ramparts of the Fortress of Keyland. They were elite shock troopers, reinforced by the beast-knights of the Argland Council State.
Dragons circled in the high clouds. Wyverns shrieked.
Soldier Commander Vorn adjusted his helmet. He was shaking.
"They say the Sorcerer King can summon ten thousand goats," his lieutenant whispered. "Ten thousand."
"Quiet," Vorn snapped. "We have the Scriptures with us. We have the Dragons. We are not fighting alone."
He looked at the treeline, two kilometers away. The forest of the north was thick, dark, and ancient.
"Here they come!" a lookout screamed.
Vorn peered through his spyglass.
He expected skeletons. He expected death knights. He expected a tidal wave of rotting flesh.
Instead, a single figure walked out of the forest.
It was huge—2.5 meters tall. Ice-blue exoskeleton. A vermillion tail dragging behind it. Four arms, holding four different weapons. A halberd. A katana. A mace. A greatsword.
Cocytus. The Ruler of the Frozen Glacier.
He stopped a kilometer from the walls.
Vorn laughed nervously. "One? They sent one insect?"
From the clouds, a Dragon Lord of the Council—Olasrd'arc, the Frost Dragon Lord (who had fled Ainz previously and allied with PDL)—dove down.
"Foolish demon!" Olasrd'arc roared. "You enter the domain of dragons alone?"
Olasrd'arc opened his maw. [Frost Breath].
A cone of absolute zero poured over Cocytus. The cold was intense enough to shatter steel.
The soldiers cheered.
The mist cleared.
Cocytus stood there. He hadn't moved. He hadn't blocked. He had simply stood in the breath.
"Is. That. All?"
Cocytus exhaled. His breath was colder than the attack.
"A. True. Warrior. Endures. But. An. Idiot. Dies."
Cocytus didn't swing his weapons. He simply tapped the pommel of his katana.
[Skill: Frost Aura V – Niflheim Execution.]
Flash freeze.
It wasn't a projectile. It was an atmospheric replacement.
For three miles, the temperature dropped instantly to -200 degrees Celsius.
The Dragon Lord in the sky froze mid-flap. He turned into a statue of ice and fell.
CRASH.
The massive dragon shattered like fine china upon hitting the ground.
On the fortress walls, Commander Vorn tried to scream, but his lungs had frozen solid inside his chest. Fifty thousand soldiers died in a single heartbeat, turned into ice sculptures.
Cocytus began walking again. The grass beneath his feet crumbled into icy dust.
"Phase. One. Complete."
"Hold," a voice boomed.
The fortress gates—magically reinforced against cold—blasted open.
Stepping out was the Captain of the Black Scripture. He was glowing. His armor was steaming, repelling the unnatural cold.
In his hand was a weapon that looked like a shard of the sun itself. A lance made of pure, blinding light that distorted the air around it.
The Solar Lance.
"Impressive AOE," the Captain said, his voice magnified by the artifact. "But temperature manipulation is useless against pure thermodynamics."
He pointed the lance at Cocytus.
[Class: Divine Legacy - Heat Ray.]
A beam of white fire, thin as a needle but hot as a star core, shot forward.
Cocytus raised his halberd to block.
The beam cut through the divine-class halberd like paper.
It cut through Cocytus's shoulder plating.
"Guh!" Cocytus stumbled back, blue ichor freezing in the air.
He looked at the wound. It wasn't cut; it was cauterized. Deleted.
"A. Weapon. That. Bypasses. Defense?" Cocytus's mandibles clicked furiously. "Excellent."
The Captain spun the lance. "Surrender, Vermin Lord. This weapon killed the Demon Gods. It will cook you in your shell."
Cocytus dropped his broken halberd. He gripped his Katana, God Slaying Emperor Blade, with two hands.
"Surrender? No."
Steam poured from Cocytus's body as he activated his Warrior Transformation.
"Ainz-sama. Demanded. That. Stick. I. Will. Bring. It. To. Him. Even. With. One. Arm."
Cocytus vanished. [Shukuchi].
He reappeared instantly in front of the Captain, swinging for the neck.
The Captain didn't block. He thrust the Lance forward to impale the Guardian.
Mutual destruction.
But just as the blade and the lance were about to connect—
BEEP.
A massive wall of bone erupted from the ground between them.
"Time out!"
A girl dropped from the sky, landing on the bone wall. She wore a mismatch of white and black armor—part clergy, part goth lolita.
Black Scripture, Extra Seat. Antilene Heran Fouche (Zesshi).
Or... was it?
She looked... glitchy. Her skin flickering between gray and pale.
"Zesshi?" The Captain paused, pulling back the lance. "You're alive?"
"Mostly," the dual-voice cackled.
She turned to look at Cocytus.
"Hey, Bug-man. Tell your boss the upload speed is increasing."
She pointed at the sky.
Above the battlefield, the clouds were forming a pattern. A QR code made of storm fronts.
Cocytus froze. He recognized the feeling in the air.
"World. Item?"
"No," Zesshi smiled, her jaw unhinging slightly. "Server Maintenance."
The Solar Lance in the Captain's hand suddenly flared violently.
[System Alert: Weapon Update Detected.]
The light from the Lance turned from yellow to violent, corrupted purple.
"Captain!" Zesshi giggled. "Shoot the sky."
"What?"
"SHOOT THE SKY OR I EAT YOU!"
Terrified, the Captain thrust the Lance upward. The corrupted beam struck the cloud pattern.
The sky shattered.
Real sunlight poured through—but it wasn't the sun of the New World. It was a harsh, fluorescent white light. And beyond the broken sky... they could see it.
A grid.
Massive text floated in the stratosphere, visible for hundreds of miles.
[Sector 9 Integrity: Critical.]
[Admin 774 Requesting Override.]
Cocytus stepped back. "Ainz-sama... The. Roof. Has. Opened."
Nazarick – Throne Room
Ainz stared at the holographic map.
The northern sky was gone.
"Zero..." Ainz whispered, clutching his phone. "You said to collect the keys. You didn't say the Devs would rip the roof off!"
His phone buzzed.
< Zero: "They're escalating. They're trying to vent the corruption by exposing the sector to raw vacuum. Don't let them patch the hole!" >
Ainz stood up.
"Albedo! You are in charge!"
"Ainz-sama?!"
"I am going to the battlefield," Ainz said, summoning his staff. "If that hole stays open, we get deleted. I have to patch it myself."
He looked at the "Anti-Glitch" file Zero had sent.
Please work.
"[Greater Teleportation]."
Ainz vanished.
He was going to war. Not against the Theocracy. Against the sky itself.