With the patrol of Albedo concluded, a profound silence once again settled over the Vault of Wisdom.
If we were to compare the position of Overseer of the Floor Guardians to a modern corporation, she would be something like the Senior Managing Director or Vice President.
She was an absolute authority figure who wrangled the Floor Guardians—the department heads—and reported directly to the CEO, Ainz aka Momonga.
Her existence was the ultimate proof that the massive military organization known as Nazarick had maintained a rock-solid chain of command, even in an unknown world.
As a former lowly salaryman, I felt a deep sense of relief that the top-down directive system hadn't wavered.
"Slither... The air gets a lot lighter once that woman leaves. Sun God, surely you agree?"
"I obey only the decisions of the Supreme Beings. If Lady Albedo is the Overseer, then that intimidating presence is entirely appropriate for the King's proxy."
Ra parried Apep's toxic grumbling with a deadpan, overly serious voice.
Narrowing my hundreds of pupils, I secretly amused myself listening to mythological monsters exchange what amounted to workplace water-cooler complaints.
However, that peaceful time didn't last long.
Suddenly, from the gap in the giant stone doors at the entrance of the vault, a bizarre object floated inside.
It was an entity with a grotesque appearance, roughly one meter in length.
A pink mass of flesh. Its torso was raw and horrifying, resembling a giant fetus that had been stripped of its skin. Yet, upon its back, a pair of elegantly flapping wings covered in pure white, angelic feathers sprouted.
Floating above its head was an ominous halo woven from thorny branches. Its face lacked eyes or a nose where they should have been; instead, a massive, cross-shaped slit was carved into it.
It was a maddening design, fusing the grotesque and the holy at their absolute extremes.
But my database—and my memories as an otaku who loved the anime—accurately grasped who he was.
He was the absolute final defensive line of the Great Tomb of Nazarick.
The Floor Guardian of the 8th Floor, Victim.
Ra and Apep once again sank their massive bodies to the floor, showing deep respect.
It was a little different from the fealty they showed Albedo earlier; this was the pure respect of warriors toward the Chief Executive who guarded the same floor as them.
I, too, lowered my body of black fog reverently and aligned the pages drifting in the air to welcome him.
Victim slowly descended right in front of my eyes, his wings flapping. The cross-shaped slit on his face warped slightly. It looked like he was smiling.
And then, he opened his mouth and spoke.
『—Odo cacle oma, iad baalg!』
It was a language with a bizarre resonance, one that could never be pronounced by a human tongue.
Enochian. A special vocalization also known as the language of the heavens.
Back in the YGGDRASIL game era, to understand Victim's words, one had to either constantly maintain high-tier translation magic or equip a cash item like the [Ring of Translation].
Normally, without passing through a system filter, whatever he said just sounded like static noise or an obscure incantation.
However, the moment he spoke those words...
The special class composing my body, [Omniscient Flesh], and the skill tree of the [Sage of Lost Wisdom] initiated background processing at a violent speed.
The massive language database within my brain instantaneously analyzed Victim's vocal waveforms.
Enochian grammar, word definitions, and vocal nuances. They were cross-referenced in a fraction of a second, and output onto one of the parchments orbiting me as a pale blue, glowing 『Translated Text』.
It looked like Augmented Reality subtitles floating in my vision.
It read:
—Good day, newly awakened Keeper of Knowledge!
...I see. It feels exactly like watching a foreign movie with subtitles,
I admired inwardly. My power of omniscience apparently analyzed even unknown languages in real-time, directly constructing a translation protocol within my brain.
But merely being able to understand him wasn't enough. In the sea of my thoughts, I assembled an "Enochian output circuit" and used my own magic power to replicate that bizarre pronunciation as my own voice.
『—Mica olz, Lord Victim. We did not anticipate your arrival, and I apologize for our lack of preparations to welcome you.』
It is an honor to have you, 8th Floor Guardian, Lord Victim. Welcome to this Vault of Wisdom.
Hearing the flawless Enochian emitting from my mouth (or rather, the vibration of my black fog), Victim froze perfectly still in mid-air.
The cross-shaped slit on his face opened wide, and the speed of his flapping wings increased. Astonishment and an unhideable emotion of pure joy overflowed from his grotesque body.
『—Zod mica od pal! Vaoan a onoc!』
I'm surprised! You can speak my language exactly as it is?!
『—Iad na madar. My database of omniscience comprehensively covers the syntax of the heavenly language as well. It is entirely possible to converse directly with you without the time lag of translation magic.』
Yes. As the Keeper of Knowledge, deciphering all languages falls within the purview of my duties.
When I answered, Victim spun around happily in mid-air.
Even the other Floor Guardians had no choice but to rely on translation items when speaking with him. The fact that someone on his own floor existed whom he could casually chat with, without any prior preparations, must have made him incredibly happy.
『—Fab oan, Tawil Balah. I'm so glad you've gained your original ability in this unknown world. I heard from Lady Albedo, but it seems the outside world is still an unknown variable.』
I see. Unfortunately, my knowledge regarding anything outside of Nazarick is practically a blank slate. Currently, Lord Ainz should be gathering information on the outside, but...
At my words, Victim stopped moving for a moment, and the tone of his voice dropped.
The resonance of the Enochian shifted into something solemn and laden with heavy weight.
『—Tox babalon. If there are mighty enemies in the outside world that threaten Lord Ainz, and they ever invade as far as this 8th Floor... I will not hesitate to offer up this body.』
Seeing the translated text float into the air, something sank heavily in the depths of my chest.
Victim's special ability. It was a diabolically cruel, wide-range, and incredibly potent movement-restricting debuff that triggered exclusively upon his own "Death."
When the alliance of 1,500 players once swarmed this 8th Floor, the biggest factor in annihilating them was the debuff triggered by Victim's death, followed by the ensuing trampling by the monsters of the 8th Floor.
In other words, his reason for existing (his role) was "to die."
If enemies came, he would throw his life away before anyone else, becoming a sacrifice to give his allies the advantage. That was the absolute system forced upon this gentle, polite angel.
Seeing him speak of his own death as his supreme joy, purely out of his absolute loyalty to Nazarick, the emotions of the former salaryman inside me stirred with a quiet anger and profound sadness.
...No, that's not right.
I quietly extended a tentacle of black fog and gently touched Victim's tiny hand (the pink protrusion that functioned as one) floating in the air.
At the physical contact, Victim shrank back slightly in surprise.
『—Oa iad ji zacar. Your resolve is the pride of Nazarick, Lord Victim.』
I possess deep respect for your spirit of self-sacrifice.
I wove the gentlest Enochian I possibly could.
『—However, I am the Keeper of Knowledge. My role is to collect and analyze all information, establishing complete dominance over the battlefield. If enemies do come, I will present Lord Ainz with such perfect weakness analysis and optimal tactical solutions that "you will not need to die." Your life is our greatest trump card; it should be preserved until the bitter end.』
At my words, Victim's eyes went round (his cross-shaped slit opened wide).
For an NPC of Nazarick to deny the settings given to them by their Creators was impossible. But I wasn't denying his settings. I was sending him the ultimate cheer of support as a colleague in the same department: "I will support you so perfectly that you won't have to die."
『......』
After a few seconds of silence, Victim spun happily in the air once more.
『—Zod pamica, Tawil. You're a strange entity. But you are incredibly dependable. If you're in the back holding all the information for us, I can stand on the front lines with peace of mind.』
Thank you, Tawil. I'm truly glad you're a comrade on the same floor.
"Slither... A monster of omniscience and a sacrificial angel fostering a friendship. The 8th Floor has certainly become quite lively."
Apep let out a low, exasperated, yet somehow pleased chuckle.
"We defense mechanisms are one. Before Lord Victim has to scatter his life, I need only turn the enemy to ash with the flames of my sun."
Ra also struck his golden spear against the floor, showing his agreement.
A giant golden bird god, a pitch-black serpent god, an omniscient black fog, and a creepy pink angel.
Despite our terrifying appearances, a genuine bond was forming here.
Not coordination as game programming, but a sense of solidarity as a single "team" possessing egos.
I realized that I didn't actually hate this bizarre workplace known as the 8th Floor.
『—Well then, I'm going to head over to Aureole Omega's place now. She should be fully awake by now, too. I'll come hang out again, Tawil.』
『—Yes, please be careful on your way. Our Lord of the 8th Floor.』
Flapping his wings merrily, Victim departed once again beyond the doors of the Vault of Wisdom.
After seeing him off, I dispersed the translation runes deployed around me and let out a deep breath, or more accurately, I heavily contracted my black fog.
The gears of Nazarick in this New World were turning steadily and powerfully.
The name Aureole Omega that had slipped from Victim's mouth.
The sole immortal human in Nazarick, and the youngest sister who led the Pleiades. She, too, was a crucial part of the network on this isolated 8th Floor.
Letting my sea of thoughts race, I began to optimize my database's index to its absolute limit, preparing for the impending contact from her—or perhaps, a visit from Ainz Ooal Gown himself.
My omniscient flesh pulsed quietly, hungry for the next piece of information.