Ainz stared at the burning skyline of the Imperial Capital and silently lamented his fate.
How did it always come to this?
He had only intended to make contact. A diplomatic visit. A simple introduction between nations. Instead, he arrived to find the capital in ruins, the senate destroyed, undead swarming the streets, and himself standing in the middle of another crisis.
Again.
It was becoming a pattern he did not appreciate.
"Honestly…" he muttered under his breath, barely audible.
Of course, no one present dared to respond.
Before him stood Princess Piña Co Lada and the remnants of her Rose-Order Knights. Their armor was dented, their cloaks torn, faces streaked with soot and blood. They stared at him in silence.
Fear.
Awe.
Confusion.
He could feel it radiating from them.
His six radiant wings slowly folded behind him, the golden sword dissolving into motes of light. Albion stood a short distance away in his humanoid dragon-knight form, silent and imposing, crimson eyes scanning the surroundings for threats.
The princess and her guards remained frozen.
Ainz sighed internally.
This was going nowhere.
He cleared his nonexistent throat.
"Allow me to introduce myself," he said calmly. His voice carried authority, yet lacked hostility. "I am Ainz Ooal Gown, sovereign of the Great Underground Tomb of Nazarick and ruler of the nation of Avalon."
The knights visibly stiffened at the name.
So they had heard of him.
"I did not come here with hostile intent," Ainz continued evenly. "My purpose was diplomatic in nature. However, it appears circumstances have… deteriorated."
That was an understatement.
Piña swallowed but did not immediately speak.
Instead, Beefeater and Hamilton stepped subtly in front of her. Grey's body still lay behind them, unmoving beneath broken stone. The loss had not yet registered fully; they were still in survival mode.
"With respect," Beefeater said carefully, hand on the hilt of her sword, "the Empire and your nation have not been on friendly terms. Multiple engagements have occurred. It would be unwise for us to assume goodwill without caution."
Hamilton nodded. "We are not in a position to negotiate while vulnerable."
Ainz regarded them silently.
It was reasonable. In fact, it was expected.
From their perspective, he was a powerful unknown entity who had just descended from the sky in the aftermath of a magical catastrophe eerily similar to Nazarick's capabilities.
Suspicion was natural.
Before tension could rise further, Piña stepped forward.
"Stand down," she ordered quietly.
The knights hesitated.
"Princess—" Hamilton began.
"That is an order."
Reluctantly, they lowered their weapons, though their bodies remained tense.
Piña faced Ainz fully. Despite the blood on her face and the tremor in her hands, she forced herself to meet his gaze.
"Lord Ainz," she began, voice steadying with effort. "It is… unfortunate that your visit coincides with such calamity. The Empire is in chaos. I cannot even confirm the safety of His Majesty."
Her jaw tightened.
"Despite our… strained relations, I humbly request your aid in this time of need."
The words clearly cost her pride.
The knights behind her shifted uncomfortably.
Ainz did not answer immediately.
Instead, he turned inward.
Helping the Empire carried advantages.
If he assisted during their weakest hour, it would grant him immense leverage. Political capital. Gratitude. Influence. Perhaps even trade concessions or territorial negotiations in the future.
On the other hand, it would drain resources. His appearance here might already implicate Nazarick in the attack. Involving himself further could deepen suspicion.
But—
If he refused, the Empire might collapse into instability. A power vacuum. Foreign intervention. Japan's involvement expanding unchecked.
That would complicate long-term strategy.
There was also the matter of public perception. Being seen as a savior rather than an aggressor aligned better with his long-term image as Avalon's divine monarch.
The benefits outweighed the risks.
Ainz lifted his head.
"Very well," he said.
Relief flickered across Piña's face.
"I shall grant your request."
The knights exchanged uneasy glances.
"However," Ainz continued calmly, "understand that my assistance will not be without cost. Once stability is restored, the Empire will compensate Avalon appropriately. The exact terms shall be discussed at a later time."
Silence fell.
Hamilton stepped forward again. "Princess, this is too dangerous. We do not know what he will demand."
Beefeater nodded sharply. "We cannot bind the Empire in its current state."
Piña closed her eyes briefly.
When she opened them, her expression had hardened.
"We do not have the luxury of pride," she said quietly. "The capital burns. The people suffer. If aid is offered, we accept it."
She bowed her head slightly toward Ainz.
"On behalf of the Empire, I accept your terms."
Ainz inclined his skull.
"Wise."
Without further delay, he raised his staff.
"[Summon Archangel Dominion]."
Brilliant pillars of light descended from the sky.
One.
Two.
Five.
Ten.
High-tier archangels materialized, their massive wings unfurling as halos shimmered above their heads. Each radiated divine energy, their armor gleaming gold and white.
The Rose-Order knights instinctively shielded their eyes.
"Proceed," Ainz commanded. "Rescue survivors. Heal the injured. Extinguish flames. Remove debris. Prioritize civilians."
The archangels bowed in unison.
"At once."
They moved immediately.
Some lifted massive slabs of stone as though weightless. Others descended into streets, holy magic flowing from their hands as wounded citizens were bathed in restorative light. Flames were smothered by divine radiance. Rubble cleared at unnatural speed.
The efficiency was overwhelming.
The knights watched in stunned silence.
"This…" Hamilton whispered. "This is not the power of a tyrant."
Ainz pretended not to hear.
Once satisfied the operation was underway, he turned back to Piña.
"Now," he said, "take me to your emperor."
Piña hesitated.
"I… do not know his condition," she admitted. "The last I saw him was within the Senate building before—"
Her voice faltered.
The explosion.
Ainz studied her posture.
Fear for her father warred with royal composure.
"If he lives," Ainz said evenly, "I will locate him. If he is gravely injured, I shall heal him."
Piña looked up sharply.
"You would…?"
"It aligns with my current objectives."
Which was technically true.
Gratitude flooded her features.
"Thank you."
She turned and began moving through the shattered streets. The remaining knights followed, though they cast wary glances toward Ainz and Albion.
As he walked behind her, Ainz observed the capital more closely.
Even before the destruction, it lacked refinement.
Stone buildings packed tightly together. Narrow streets. Inefficient layout. Little magical infrastructure. No structured transportation systems. No mana conduits embedded into architecture.
Compared to Avalon's floating platforms, arcane transit systems, and regulated city planning, this place was primitive.
Functional, perhaps.
But inefficient.
If not for the disaster, he might have considered it quaint.
They advanced deeper toward the Senate district.
Smoke lingered thick in the air.
Civilians cried as they searched for loved ones. Imperial soldiers attempted to establish order, though most appeared disoriented.
Suddenly—
Ainz stopped.
His red orbs flickered.
There it was.
A voice.
Faint.
But unmistakable.
"助けて!誰か助けて!"
Help me! Someone, please!
The language was clear.
Japanese.
Ainz froze.
For a fraction of a second, the world around him seemed to recede.
Japanese?
Here?
He turned his head slowly toward the source of the voice, filtering out the surrounding noise.
Again.
A woman's cry.
In Japanese.
Not accented.
Not broken.
Native.
That was impossible.
Unless—
His mind raced.
Another transported individual?
A YGGDRASIL player?
Or something else entirely?
Piña noticed he had stopped.
"Lord Ainz?"
He did not answer immediately.
The implications were severe.
If another player existed in this world—especially one capable of surviving independently—it represented both opportunity and threat.
His gaze sharpened.
"Remain here," he instructed calmly.
Before Piña could question him, Ainz vanished in a flash of teleportation magic.
The debris lifted slowly.
Stone slabs groaned as unseen force pried them upward. Broken beams scraped against each other before sliding free from the collapsed ceiling. Dust rolled through the air in thick clouds, turning the dim space hazy as the crushing weight above began to lessen.
It had once been a warehouse.
Now it was a tomb made of timber and shattered brick.
But it was not just one person trapped beneath it.
As the rubble rose and splintered crates shifted aside, several figures were revealed huddled together in a shallow pocket that had somehow remained intact. An elderly man clutching a bent walking stick. A middle-aged woman shielding a small child beneath her coat. A university-aged boy with dried blood crusted along his temple.
And her.
The woman who had cried out.
The sudden wash of light made them recoil violently. They pressed themselves against the broken walls as if expecting another blow to follow.
Not awe.
Not hope.
Only fear.
Ainz stepped forward, the hem of his robe drifting just above the ground.
The captives shrank further back at the sight of him.
The woman who had called for help looked the worst among them. Her once-professional blouse was torn at the sleeve. Dirt streaked her face. Her lips were cracked from dehydration. Faint rope burns ringed both wrists, the skin chafed raw.
Her eyes were bloodshot and hollow.
She was not composed. Not defiant. Not analytical.
She looked like someone who had been surviving one minute at a time.
"…誰…?"
("…who…?")
The word barely left her throat. It scraped out dry and fragile.
Ainz answered in Japanese, his voice even and steady.
"落ち着け.もう危険はない."
("Calm yourself. You are no longer in danger.")
The effect was immediate.
The elderly man inhaled sharply, his shoulders trembling.
The boy's breathing quickened, eyes widening in disbelief.
The woman stared at him as if her mind could not quite process what she had heard.
"You're… speaking Japanese…" she whispered.
Her gaze slowly traveled upward.
Over the white golden robes. The ornate staff hovering at his side. The transcended visage illuminated faintly by the distant fires of the city.
Her breath began to shake.
"I don't care what you are," she said suddenly, voice cracking under strain. "Please… just don't take us back. Don't send us back to them."
There was no accusation in her tone.
Only terror.
Not of him.
Of the ones who had owned them.
Ainz let his gaze sweep across the group.
They were gaunt. Their movements sluggish. The faint smell of confinement and unwashed bodies lingered in the air. These were not recent captives.
"How long," he asked calmly, "have you been here?"
The woman swallowed, her throat visibly tightening.
"A month," she said after a moment, though the word sounded uncertain, as if time had blurred together. "Maybe a little more. They dragged us through that… that Gate in Ginza. Said we were spoils of war. War slaves."
Her voice fractured on the final words.
The child beside the older woman began crying quietly, as if the memory alone was enough to reopen wounds.
War slaves.
The term aligned precisely with the Empire's practices.
Ainz's red orbs dimmed slightly.
"You escaped during the chaos?" he asked.
She nodded faintly.
"When the city started burning, the guards panicked. Some of them ran. We didn't know what was happening… explosions, screams… something attacked the capital. We just hid. We found this place and blocked the entrance as best we could."
Her hands trembled uncontrollably now.
"They came back a few times. Looking for survivors. We stayed quiet. Didn't move. Didn't speak."
Her breathing hitched.
"I thought this was it. I thought we'd die here and no one would even know."
Albion descended beside Ainz, landing lightly despite his armored frame. The metallic sound of his sabatons touching stone made several of the captives flinch violently.
The woman instinctively pulled the child closer.
Albion's crimson eyes softened slightly as he observed them.
"My lord," he said in a low voice, "none of them pose threat. Severe physical and psychological fatigue present."
Ainz inclined his skull.
He stepped closer, but carefully — slow enough not to appear looming.
"You are safe for now," he repeated in Japanese. "No one here will harm you."
The woman searched his face, as if trying to find something human within it.
"…You're not one of them," she murmured, half to herself.
"No."
Silence settled between them.
It was not comfortable silence.
It was the silence of people too exhausted to feel relief.
She closed her eyes briefly, steadying herself before speaking again.
"My name is Nanami Kuribayashi," she said quietly. "I'm… I was a reporter. I was covering the emergency response when the Gate opened in Ginza."
Her fingers tightened against her own sleeve.
"I saw it happen. One second the street was normal. Then that stone arch was just… there. Soldiers came through. Not like anything I'd ever seen. Armor, shields, creatures behind them. They cut people down in the open."
Her breath began to shake again.
"The Self-Defense Forces arrived, but it was chaos."
The old man beside her whispered weakly, "Is this hell? Is that what this is?"
Nanami shook her head faintly.
"I don't know anymore."
Ainz studied her in silence.
Dust matted her hair. Dried blood streaked along her collar. The rope burns had cut deep enough to leave faint scars.
There was nothing theatrical about her suffering.
It was painfully real.
"You mentioned Ginza," Ainz said evenly. "And a Gate."
She nodded.
"It opened in the middle of the street. In Tokyo. In Japan. They just came in and start killing and looting ." Her expression twisted with bitterness.
Japan.
Tokyo.
The Empire had invaded Earth.
Ainz felt the realization settle carefully into place.
This was not like YGGDRASIL's transfer.
This was a physical connection between worlds.
Which meant—
Japan was now involved in this world's politics and warfare.
And he had been unaware of it.
That fact did not sit well with him.
Internally, calculations shifted.
If Japan had responded militarily — and they would have — then the Empire was already engaged in conflict beyond this continent. That would destabilize regional power structures. It would invite foreign influence. Perhaps even permanent occupation.
And he had entered this situation blind.
Albion spoke again, quieter now.
"My lord, this district remains unstable. We should not linger."
Correct.
Ainz raised his staff.
"[Mass Greater Healing]."
Soft white light expanded outward in a wide circle, bathing the trapped civilians in gentle radiance.
Bruises faded before their eyes. Cuts sealed. The boy's dried blood flaked away as the wound beneath closed completely. The child's crying softened into confused sniffles.
Nanami stared at her wrists as the angry red burns vanished, leaving only faint lines.
"…It doesn't hurt anymore," she whispered, as if afraid speaking too loudly would undo it.
The elderly man flexed his fingers slowly, disbelief written plainly across his face.
Ainz lowered his staff.
"This area is no longer secure," he said calmly. "You will be relocated."
Fear flickered in Nanami's eyes again.
"Relocated… where?"
"For now," Ainz replied, "somewhere safe."
She hesitated.
Not because she doubted him.
Because she was too tired to process anything beyond the present moment.
Finally, she nodded once.
"…Please."
Ainz extended his hand.
Light engulfed them.
The shattered warehouse vanished.
The smoke, the ruin, the smell of burning stone—all of it disappeared in an instant.
And as the teleportation completed, Ainz Ooal Gown understood something with absolute clarity.
Falmart was no longer an isolated board where only he moved pieces.
Another nation had entered the game.
And it was one he had once called home.