Chapter 104 - 146

[ Part 1 ]

The Roble Holy Kingdom was a nation whose territory was the peninsula to the southwest of the Re-Estize Kingdom.

It was led by a Holy Queen who could use divine magic, and the leadership was closely tied to the temple factions. It was a very religious country, though not to the extent of the Slaine Theocracy.

In addition, there were two special features about the Roble Holy Kingdom's geography.

The first was that its land was divided into northern and southern halves by the sea. Of course, the halves were not completely separated. Rather, there was a gigantic bay between them — forty kilometers long and two hundred kilometers wide — which made its geography look like a horizontal U.

Thus, some people called them the Northern and Southern Holy Kingdoms.

Then, there was another feature.

The entrance to the peninsula sported a great wall, over one hundred kilometers long from north to south.

It was built to withstand invasions from the many demihuman tribes which occupied the hills to the east of the Holy Kingdom, between them and the Theocracy.

This grand wall, built through the expenditure of a great deal of time and resources, was a silent testimony to how troubling the existence of the demihumans were to the Holy Kingdom.

There was a vast power gap between demihumans and humans.

Granted, it was true that there were certain demihumans who were weaker than humans, such as Goblins.

Be it in height, physical strength, knowledge, or the rate at which they produced magic casters, they were a race inferior to humans in every way.

Still, even Goblins like that possessed eyes which could see in the dark, and if they took advantage of the fact that their small bodies could be easily concealed — for instance, when launching a nighttime ambush in a forest — they would surely be troublesome foes for humans.

Needless to say, most demihumans had more powerful bodies than humans, and there were also many races who were naturally endowed with magical ability. If they let the demihumans invade as they pleased, they would have to pay an incalculable price in blood to fight them off.

Therefore, the Holy Kingdom chose to solidify its defense.

They did this to keep the demihumans from taking a single step onto their land.

They did this to let the world know that their land did not belong to the demihumans.

They did this so the demihumans would understand that any attempt to set foot on their land would be met by frenzied resistance.

***

Yet, the wall built for that purpose possessed a few problems.

In order to keep it operating at full capacity, they had to keep a great deal of manpower permanently on site. The Holy Kingdom's leadership had once calculated how much fighting strength would be required to defeat an invading tribe of demihumans. The answer was that the country would collapse before the demihumans even attacked them.

While they did not have the luxury of raising troops which would go unused, there was a need to station an appropriate amount of manpower there.

In the Holy Kingdom's history — after the construction of the wall — the gravest intrusion into their lands had come during an invasion which took place amidst the Long Rain.

It was a night attack, launched by a race called the Srush, who possessed sucker-cup hands, tongues envenomed with a paralytic toxin which could extend a long way, and advanced members of their species could even change their skin color as though using the 「Camouflage」 spell.

The Srush crossed the wall, and headed west.

Quite a number of villages had been lost to them, and such was the tragedy which had unfolded back then that to this day, there were still rumors about whether or not the Srush were still hiding within the borders of the Holy Kingdom.

They wanted to fully man the wall in order to prevent such a tragedy from occurring again, but stationing troops at every single point along its length would strain the nation. The compromise which the nation came up with was to build small forts at fixed intervals along the walls. These strongpoints would then be overseen by several gigantic fortresses.

They stationed a small number of troops in each of these strongpoints, their purpose being to fight extended battles down to the last man. If they encountered an enemy attack, they would immediately launch skyrockets to request reinforcements from the fortresses. In addition, there were companies of soldiers who would staff and patrol the fortresses, serving as reserve troops during emergencies, to be deployed flexibly as the situation required.

After putting these measures into practice, the demihumans had not managed to penetrate the wall again.

However, the diligent planning of the Holy Kingdom's leadership back then had turned into a form of obsession. Even countermeasures like a defensive line of fortresses could not reassure them.

Indeed, it was an incredibly massive wall — to human beings. Yet, it was no threat whatsoever to races who were several times taller than humans or who possessed the ability of flight. For those reasons, even such a sturdy wall was by no means a guarantee of absolute safety when one considered the many special abilities of demihumans.

The Holy King at the time was a prudent man, and he had even prepared a stratagem for when the wall was breached. His solution was to mobilize the entire nation.

For that reason, the citizens of the Holy Kingdom were conscripted as a form of national service. All adult citizens, male and female, would spend a certain necessary amount of time undergoing military training, after which they would be assigned to sentry duty on the wall. The hope was that they would become the manpower with which to protect their land in case the demihumans crossed over the wall.

All residences above a certain size were also fortified. This gave the local villagers enough fighting power to hold out until the regular army could arrive, and allowed said villages to serve as military outposts. In the end, the villages of the Roble Kingdom were far better protected than those of other countries, and they could also function as military bases.

***

The Holy Kingdom's fortress line was composed of three fortresses linked by the wall. Each of them protected one of only three fortified gates along the full length of the wall, which was in excess of one hundred kilometers long, and they also functioned as garrisons to dispatch troops to the surrounding strongholds. If the demihumans invaded and an overall mobilization order was given, they would become staging areas where the troops would gather in order to attack the enemy.

This was one of them, the central fortress.

As the sun slowly sank beneath the horizon, the red-tinted land was slowly soaked with the color of night.

A powerful-looking man stood with one foot on the battlements, looking out over the land — at the western foothills. After that, he put his foot down.

He was a man who bulged with muscle.

His neck was stout, and his chest muscles were impressive enough that one could sense them even through his thick armor. His powerful arms protruded from his rolled-up sleeves. There was no better way to describe him than "athletic," regardless of which part of him one looked at.

His face was like a boulder, weathered by harsh conditions, and his thick brows and unkempt moustache spoke of a savage, wild nature. His mighty body and his stern appearance ought to have matched each other, yet his eyes broke that trend.

They were tiny and round, beady like those of a small animal, and they felt almost comically out of place.

Such a man now looked to the sky.

The wind carried the thin clouds at incredible speeds, but even the starry night beyond their gossamer veil could not produce enough starlight to illuminate the land.

The man's nostrils flared, and he took a deep breath, smelling the breath of night through the early autumn air, which was flavored with a hint of winter chill. The violet night sky was swallowing the faint light of dusk upon the horizon with a speed visible to the naked eye.

The man turned his back to the hills, and looked at the men around him.

They were fierce warriors, who trusted him and who followed him. It was because he was surrounded by such warriors that he permitted himself a moment's laxity.

After all, the day's work was done and nobody could dispute that.

"—Oi, has anyone asked the forecaster about tonight's weather?"

The question was asked in a mighty voice which befitted his powerful body. The soldiers looked at each other, and one of them spoke up on the group's behalf.

"My deepest apologies! Corporal Camparno sir, it seems none of us have heard the report in question!"

This man — Olrand Camparno — was a fairly low ranked man in the Roble Holy Kingdom's military hierarchy.

From bottom to top, the Roble Holy Kingdom's military ranks went from Recruit, Private, Private First Class, Corporal, Sergeant, Platoon Sergeant, and so on. Of course, different ranks existed in different units, and these were simply the ranks for the regular infantry.

Usually speaking, a simple corporal would not need to be addressed as "Sir."

However, the man calling Olrand "Sir" did not do so to mock him. His respect for him was evident in his attitude and tone. Neither was it just that man; every soldier present, each of whom walked and talked like a skilled veteran of many battles, felt the same way about Olrand.

"Really now?"

Olrand slowly stroked his stubbly face.

"Sir, if time permits, will you allow this one to go and ask immediately?"

"Hm? No, no need for that. Our job is over now. What happens next is the business of the people after us."

***

Olrand Camparno.

He was a man of many accomplishments who, through his fighting skill alone, had earned the honor of being named one of the Holy Kingdom's Nine Colors by the previous Holy King.

The reason why such a man remained at such a lowly post stemmed from two problems which Olrand had.

The first was because he was very free-spirited — he hated taking orders.

The second was because he was obsessed with fighting skills.

When these two points came together, they led to a way of life that said, "If you want to tell me what to do, beat the crap out of me first." If he met a worthy foe he would say, "You look pretty strong. How about sparring with me?" and then they would fight until one of them passed out.

This personality of his had led to many violent incidents involving nobles and his superiors, so he had been demoted over ten times already.

There was no need for people who could not obey orders in the military and they were universally loathed as well. Under normal circumstances, it would hardly have been strange if he were disciplined or dishonorably discharged. However, he had not met with such a fate, purely due to his strength. In addition, there were those who admired men like him.

The rough sorts who were unhappy about being ordered about by destitute nobles found Olrand's way of living by the strength of his arm most thrilling

His unit was a squad of delinquents composed of such violent people — no, they were more of a gang.

They were quite numerous, so calling them a company would not have been out of place. In addition, its members may not have been Olrand's equals, but they were all skilled fighters, which led to him assuming an unofficial post which his superiors could not tolerate, but which they could do nothing about.

***

Olrand glanced around, and after verifying the identity of the man approaching them, a smile appeared on his face, like that of a carnivore about to pounce its prey.

That man seemed quite slender in comparison to Olrand's brawny form. However, his was not the scrawniness of a twig. Rather, he had a wiry, steely look about him. If one forged and reforged a man, burning away everything unrelated to his intended function, it would produce a textbook slimness of the kind he embodied.

In addition, his narrow eyes were keen, as though he was about to attack at any moment. Then there were his narrow pupils which did not look like they belonged to anyone engaged in a legitimate enterprise. In polite terms, he was an assassin. In less than polite terms, he was a mass murderer.

"Speak of the devil and here he comes. Fancy meeting you here, Night Shift-san. Nice to see you~"

The other man made no sound as he approached them with silent footsteps. He was dressed very differently from Olrand.

Olrand and the men around him wore suits of heavy leather armor made from the hides of magical beasts called Lanca Cattle. In addition, they carried small round shields and single-edged swords, the standard outfit of the Holy Kingdom's superior troops. Incidentally, Olrand was the only one who had eight of those swords at his waist.

In contrast to that, the other man wore a suit of enchanted light leather armor. There was an owl crest stitched on his right chest, while the emblem of the Holy Kingdom adorned his left.

"...Olrand. I haven't received your shift report yet. Also, is that the attitude you ought to be taking with a superior? That's practically insubordination. How many times do I have to remind you of that?"

"Well, do forgive me, Platoon Sergeant-dono."

As Olrand saluted him sloppily, the men under him saluted as well. It was a proper salute, the kind which they would never give a nobleman or any mere superior officer. It was a salute which showed genuine respect.

The man sighed with a haaah. It was a sigh made by one who knew that his conduct was unacceptable, but who also knew that lecturing him about it would be pointless.

Sorry, boss. Old habits die hard, as they say.

The reason why Olrand saluted this man, however reluctantly, was because he had defeated Olrand.

I'd like to beat you once before I leave this place. On your terms. Don't you think, Platoon Sergeant Pavel Baraja?

The man — Pavel Baraja — was nicknamed "The Night Watchman." Like Olrand, he was one of the Nine Colors. The massive, exquisitely-made bow on his back gleamed with the faint light of magic, and the quiver hanging at his waist glowed in the same way. He was an archer, just as his appearance suggested. He was a superb marksman, with a reputation of perfect accuracy.

"I think this all the time, but working at night sure is hard. The demihumans do just fine in the darkness but it's hard enough just to find their traces, let alone fight them."

"That's why we're here. The only way to gain magic and talents comparable to demihumans — their vision aside — is through training. And we've received that training."

"Yes, yes. Same goes for that daughter you're so proud of, right?"

Pavel's face twitched and Olrand instantly regretted his poor choice of words.

This was a man whose expression remained unchanged even in the midst of a drinking party. The only exception was when the topic of his daughter and wife came up. That was where the problem lay.

"Oh yes. She's an outstanding girl."

—It was happening. It had already begun.

Pavel paid no heed to Olrand's regret and continued speaking.

"That said, I honestly have no idea why she wants to become a paladin. She's weak little girl, certainly not the type who thinks of fighting power as everything — honestly, she's even been scared to tears by caterpillars in the past — and while I did say that might was everything just now, that doesn't extend to my wife... although my wife does seem like that in some ways — and she's adorable because she grew up like me, no, I should say that it's a pity she ended up growing up to look like me — but the true shame is that she doesn't have any talent for using swords. However, she's adept with the bow. If only she could hone her skills in that respect, but then here she is wanting to be a paladin and whatnot—"

He let the meandering monologue flow in one ear and out the other, making the appropriate noises in response when they were needed, but it would seem he had still been found out.

"Oi, are you listening to me?"

That question was only to be expected.

No, I wasn't listening. I think I stopped after the third time.

After hearing the same thing about five or six times, under normal circumstances Olrand would have unhappily retorted "Hell no." However, taking that tone with Pavel would be a terrible mistake. That was because he knew that he would surely reply, "Then I'll tell you again."

This was the right answer:

"Of course I did. What a lovely girl she is!"

Pavel's face changed dramatically. While it was an ugly, fiendish expression that put Olrand on his guard, the fact was that the other man was simply embarrassed.

If he did not capitalize on the way Pavel's mind was savoring the joy of hearing his daughter being praised by others and overcome Pavel's desire to praise his daughter, he would be plunged into that hell once more.

"Also—"

Only one thing could trump the topic of his daughter. That was work.

"Doesn't night work mess with your biological clock? Won't your body get weird?"

The butcher's expression on Pavel's face returned to his usual killer's expression.

"...How many times have you asked that question already? The answer's the same as always; it's nothing to be concerned about. Still, why do you keep asking that question? What are you really getting at?"

He knew the cause for it, but he still stared at his rapid shift in attitude.

Where did the you from just now go, he wanted to say, but Olrand did not want that hell to return once more.

"...Hah. What I really want to say? Well, that's a surprising question... I was just thinking that it'd cause a lot of trouble for me if the man who beat me ruined his body and ended up having to retire over a trivial thing. Of course, once I win, such minor things won't matter any more."

In the past, Olrand had been full of himself when he was first assigned to this strongpoint, and thinking back to those days embarrassed him. Skilled soldiers gathered around him in admiration, fuelling his ego ever further, and somehow, he had ended up fighting a mock battle with Pavel.

Olrand favored the sword — close combat. In contrast, Pavel favored the bow — ranged combat.

If the two of them clashed, the question of engagement range would be extremely important. However, Pavel declared that he was fine with close combat.

And then, Olrand lost.

Olrand respected Pavel for that reason. At the same time, he harbored the desire to beat him next time. This time, he would fight Pavel in his field of expertise, ranged combat, and emerge the victor there.

"Is that so? You want to fight me, then? While I'm at peak physical condition, with no handicaps on my part."

A bestial smile crossed Pavel's face as he said so, and it made Olrand's chest heat up.

Oh yes, definitely. Isn't that obvious? I want to fight you. I want to put my life on the line against you. However, that won't be allowed, will it? Even so, if possible, I'd like us to have a battle where both of us could die at any moment. That's how I want to fight you.

However, Olrand remained silent. That was because his instincts said there was no telling where the beast before his eyes would go. And in fact, what Pavel said after that confirmed those instincts.

"Still, I have to apologize. You should know why too.There's very few people who can beat you as you are now in melee combat, and I'm not one of them."

Then let's settle it with ranged combat. Those words did not issue from Olrand's mouth. That was because he knew it would only be an insult to a worthy opponent.

He recalled Pavel's bow skills. He was still not confident that he could evade his attacks and close the distance at the same time.

—No, not yet.

"Well, if that's all, time to make your report."

"No need to rush, boss. It's not time for the shift change yet, right? Look, the bell hasn't rung yet."

Indeed, the chime that signalled a shift change had not yet sounded.

"You still need to prepare to change shifts, right? There's things to do before the bell goes. You ought to be getting yourself ready so you can change over the moment the bell rings."

"It's still too early even for that, right boss? Come talk with us for a bit."

"Then, may I make a report to the Platoon Sergeant's second-in-command?"

The person who spoke was one of his men.

"Oh, that's a great idea. Excellent job, you. How about that, boss?"

"...Hah. You're being really persistent today. You want to say something, right? Good grief... if you want to say something, come out and say it."

But of course, he could not.

While he had acknowledged the other man as someone he could talk with because he respected him, Olrand was the type who did not speak to people precisely because he respected them. That was because he wanted to be seen as a man who could stand on his own.

"Well, that's why you're the boss. You get it, don't you?"

"...Hahhh. So, what is it? I won't let you off lightly if it's some trivial nonsense."

"Well, about that..." Olrand took off his helmet and scratched his head. The cool air felt strangely comfortable on his heated scalp.

"The truth is I want to go on a warrior's pilgrimage. So can I leave this place?"

He could hear the gasps of surprise from all around him. However, the expression on the slender man in front of him remained unmoved.

"Why tell me?"

"That's because you're the man I respect the most in this nation, boss. If you won't stop me either, then I won't have any more doubts."

"...Aren't you an NCO? If you've finished your conscription period, I can't possibly stop you."

The Holy Kingdom practiced conscription. Therefore, they sometimes called those people who chose to be career soldiers noncommissioned officers, in order to differentiate them from those people who had been conscripted. Pavel and all his men were NCOs, while Olrand had some NCOs and conscripts under his command.

"In that case, you don't mind if I quit, right?"

Being asked that question marked the first time Pavel's face had changed apart from when the topic of his wife and daughter had come up. Olrand had barely managed to discover it by dint of his extraordinary powers of perception gained from being a warrior. Nobody else around them had noticed it.

He was someone that Olrand acknowledged as a man of steel, but he was actually perturbed by the question of his staying or departure. His heart swirled with a mix of delight and sorrow.

"...Well, legally speaking, I have to accept that. I can't stop you... That said, we'll sorely feel the absence of a strong man like you. You should have gone on your warrior's journey earlier, right? Why now? Is it because there aren't any more demihuman attacks?"

Since that time half a year ago, the demihumans had stopped attacking this fortress. In the past, they had attacked about once or twice a month, in groups of about a few dozen each time.

While they only numbered a few dozen, they were still demihumans, who had superior physical abilities compared to mankind, and many of them possessed special abilities on top of that. Those were numbers which could easily slaughter an entire outpost wholesale.

Both Olrand and Pavel had experienced many situations where they had to send out elite troops for relief operations.

"You know I don't enjoy slaughtering the demihumans, right? I like fighting strong people and becoming strong."

"So how about the Grand King, then?"

"Ahhh, that guy..."

"Oh, and then there's the Demon Claw, the Beast Emperor, the Ashen King, the Iceflame Lightning, and the Spiral Lance."

Pavel had mentioned the nicknames of several notable demihumans, but none of them moved Olrand's heart apart from the one he had first mentioned.

The Grand King Buser.

He was the king of a certain demihuman tribe, a being known as the Lord of Destruction.

That nickname came from the fact that he was skilled in martial arts that destroyed weaponry and his fighting style that revolved around such sundering techniques. He was a mortal enemy of the Holy Kingdom who had defeated many famed warriors, and he had fought Olrand in the past. Back then, he had destroyed Olrand's longsword, his backup weapons of a shortsword and handaxe, and even a billhook used to cut trees for firewood.

Although he had broken all of Olrand's weapons, the Grand King withdrew after seeing the reinforcements sent from the fortress. In a sense, being able to hold out until help arrived was a win for Olrand, and many people praised him for his valor. To Olrand, however, it simply meant that the Grand King did not think that slaying Olrand was worth the risk, and so all Olrand felt was a hollow sense of defeat.

"I do want to fight him again, but... I guess I still can't beat him now. You'd probably need one of those people they call heroes to defeat him, otherwise it would be very difficult. Therefore... ah, you've also heard of it, right boss? How that great warrior, Gazef Stronoff, died in battle."

"Ah, yes, I did. The higher-ups are debating hotly about how that's going to affect the surrounding countries, after all."

The death of Gazef Stronoff, known as the mightiest warrior of the Re-Estize Kingdom, was a matter of great interest to the soldiers of the Holy Kingdom — particularly the skilled ones.

"Do you know any specifics?"

"I've heard some rough details. Apparently, he duelled a magic caster known as the Sorcerer King and was struck down. Frankly speaking, the fact that he would actually challenge a magic caster to a duel is quite hard to take in."

Olrand agreed as well.

However, the term "magic caster" was quite broad. Divine magic casters could, after using spells which enhanced their physical abilities, end up stronger than a half-baked warrior. In addition, the paladins who were the pride of this nation could use magic too, so to some extent, one could not say they were not magic casters. In that case, he could understand the reasons for the duel.

"...In addition, others say that the Sorcerer King massacred an entire army. Apparently he summoned gigantic goats, or sheep, rather."

"Well, that's the first time I've heard that. Still, gigantic goats? What a weird magic caster."

The mention of goats reawakened unhappy memories of Olrand's defeat. That said, while the rumors said he had summoned goats, they were clearly not ordinary goats.

"Well, it's also because of that weird magic caster. That's why I need to do this."

"...That's why? I don't quite get your meaning."

"This hasn't changed from when I lost to you, but I'm the sort of person who disregards items that grant flight, spells, and the like. I've always thought that all you need to do is beat them with your sword. However, after the Kingdom's Warrior-Captain-dono — who was stronger than me — lost to those, I began to think that maybe I shouldn't look down on them."

"Which means?"

"Which means I need to go on a warrior's pilgrimage."

"...Don't tell me you're going to challenge those people in our country that you can't beat?"

"I won't."

Some of the opponents which Olrand could not win against were fellow members of the Nine Colors.

The Vice-Captain of the marines, Enrique Belsway, known as "the Blue."

The Captain of the Paladin Order, Remedios Custodio, known as "the White."

Pavel Baraja, known as "the Black."

Ran Tsu An Rin, one of the Mermen who lived in the sea, known as "the Green."

And then, outside of the Nine Colors, there was the most powerful priest in the nation, Queralt Custodio.

In other words, they were some of the most highly placed people in the land, and challenging them would surely cause great ructions in the country. If it was just a mock battle, then it ought to be all right, so long as it was against a fellow member of the Nine Colors, but an all-out duel would never be allowed.

However, that would not do.

A true clash of blades was completely different from a mock battle. Sometimes, the winner and loser could be completely reversed between them. Many people became much stronger — or weaker — when going from training to a live combat. Naturally, the strong were recognized as such because they showed their power in actual combat. Therefore, one could not consider a warrior pilgrimage complete without fighting a real battle.

"That's good, then... still, where do you plan to train yourself?"

"I was thinking of visiting the Sorcerous Kingdom you mentioned earlier. It seems there's powerful undead there."

The Sorcerous Kingdom of Ainz Ooal Gown.

It would have taken an incredible attention-seeker to actually name a country after themselves, but it was not entirely unthinkable. More to the point, it was a fact that the person who had done so had the power to back it up.

"I've heard of it from the merchants who travel between the Kingdom and the Holy Kingdom."

Thanks to the teachings of the Holy Kingdom's temples, the common man both hated and despised the undead. Even Pavel was no exception. No, Olrand thought. Pavel did not hate them because they were the enemies of the Holy Kingdom, but because they were his wife's enemies.

However, he could not bring that up. While he did not lose himself in chatting about his wife as he did with his daughter, he still spoke far too much.

"The Holy Kingdom's stance is to tacitly acknowledge the existence of the Sorcerous Kingdom, right? They say it's okay for people of the Holy Kingdom to go over there... right?"

There was no way to hide the fact that the Sorcerous Kingdom, with its armies of the undead, was an intolerable foe of the Holy Kingdom. Many people had urged them to send out troops when they thought of how the people in the Sorcerous Kingdom's Capital of E-Rantel must be suffering. However, the Holy Kingdom presently faced the threat of the demihumans, and they would not be able to conduct military operations in other countries without first pacifying the hill region.

The feelings of the people aside, the leadership's response to the Sorcerous Kingdom did not escalate beyond half-hearted criticism.

"...The Sorcerous Kingdom, hm. Well, if you apply to the brass, you ought to be able to go over there as a member of the army. They view the Sorcerous Kingdom as a threat second only to the demihumans. It seems they want to ally with the Theocracy against them."

"Really now. It seems there'll be a lot of problems due to religious differences, then."

"Yes, precisely. Well, that aside, if your affiliation doesn't change, you can receive the country's aid and you can skip those annoying immigration checks... I think. If you go over, you'll be a godsend to the people who want to know more about the inner workings of the Sorcerous Kingdom."

"Well, wouldn't that be nice. Still, if I did that, I couldn't just go around picking fights."

"You... the way you say that so seriously is really headache-inducing."

"I guess it'd be hard on you if it became an international incident, huh."

The cold wind blew past them. For a while, Pavel went silent, his expression unchanged, but after that, he began muttering unhappily (as usual).

"I'm going to miss that ugly face of yours."

Olrand smiled wickedly. It was a ferocious, bestial grin, but he was being uncharacteristically shy. Pavel had not said, "don't go," but neither had he said, "go." He decided to make sure that he would have somewhere to return to.

"Sorry about that... Well, I'll come back after I become stronger. Want me to train you up at that time?"

"Fancy you saying that."

As Olrand chuckled, Pavel laughed back at him in turn. Their laughter was every bit as ferocious as two wild beasts growling at each other.

Just then, the bell rang.

It would seem that it was time to change over to the night shift. They had spoken at great length, so they would wrap it up with one more thing. As Olrand thought that, that notion evaporated from his mind as the bell continued to ring.

Pavel, followed closely by Olrand, looked to the hills.

Those bells meant "Demihumans sighted."

Their visibility was clear up to to over four hundred meters away. In the past, there had once been forests and trees there, but the country had conducted a massive landscaping project as part of the wall's construction to flatten it out.

However, at the furthest reaches of the expansive plains — where there were hills and other obstructions — they saw sparkles in the darkness and moving black shadows.

"Boss..."

It was impossible for Olrand to discern the true identities of those demihumans at this distance while in the dark. Therefore, he called on the man with the keenest eyesight.

"Yes, they're demihumans... Snakemen," Pavel immediately answered.

Snakemen had heads like a cobra and scaly, humanoid bodies, as well as tails. They were demihumans that were considered close relatives to Lizardmen. Their serpentine heads had venomous bites and their spears were coated in powerful toxins. Close combat with them was to be avoided as much as possible.

That said, Olrand and his men were seasoned veterans, and they possessed very high resistance to poisons. While their scales provided some protection, they were not hard enough to deflect metal weapons. They might be skilled with their tails, but one could simply consider them another weapon. In addition, they had the advantage at night due to their ophidian sensory organs, but that was not a problem.

Is leading the charge on them going to be our job? No, by the time they reach here, Boss's unit would have shot them all to death.

Snakemen despised cold objects, so they did not use metal armor and other such items. As a result, it was a simple task for first-rate archers like Pavel and his men to fill them full of arrows.

"So how many of them are there, Boss?"

Usually, there would be less than twenty of them.

"...Boss?"

Olrand was briefly puzzled by the lack of a response. He looked at Pavel, and saw a look of clear vexation on that typically blank face of his.

"What's wrong, Boss?"

"...There's more of them? Could this be — this is bad! I've spotted members of other species! Armatts, Ogres, and are those Cavens?"

"What did you say?"

There were all kinds of demihumans in the hill region, but they did not have good relationships with each other. On the contrary, they often fought over territory, and apart from cases where Ogres took Goblins as slaves and cruelly used them, these races very rarely worked with each other.

There had even been cases where some of them had attacked the Holy Kingdom after being driven from their lands.

Then this ought to be the same thing. Because if it was not—

"A big invasion?"

He did not know who had said that. Perhaps the person saying so might have thought he was speaking to himself, but it sounded clear enough to his ears.

"Olrand, I've got something to ask you."

There was tension in Pavel's voice. No, that was only to be expected.

Race, culture, and religion. Just as how there could be many nations composed of members of the same species, creating a cohesive nation was a very difficult task. It was even more difficult when the species of the members were different. Therefore, uniting the demihuman tribes in the hills was a nigh-impossible task.

If that was what had happened, that would mean the beginning of a battle for the Holy Kingdom's survival.

After that — Olrand's body trembled uncontrollably.

Uniting all these races would require obvious power. Among mankind, wisdom and wealth would qualify as a form of strength, but the demihuman races prized power. In other words—

That means there might be a frighteningly powerful enemy out there, is that it?

"Tell me with your warrior's instincts. Why do you think these guys chose to reveal themselves at a fortress like this — at such a well defended place? One — they're serving as bait to draw out our forces to thin out our defences. Two—"

"They're confident of breaking through in a head-on attack. Twenty percent of the Holy Kingdom's fighting strength is stationed here, and they're going to crush us like cockroaches."

Despite feeling Pavel's keen gaze from beside him, Olrand did not stop talking.

"At the same time, they're going to use this fortress as a bridgehead. Then, they're going to crush the morale of the Holy Kingdom and boost their own morale. Is that it?"

"...They might issue a mass mobilization order."

"Haha! A war like this has only occurred once before in the history of the Holy Kingdom, and now there's going to be another one like it in our time! What can we say to that!?"

"I'm going to report to the higher-ups. You come with me too."

"Got it, boss! Oi, you lot! This is going to be one hell of a party! Keep the backup weapons coming!"

If the enemy was an army, they would have to spend a lot of time forming their troops up. This was especially true if they counted numerous races among their number. However, the same applied to the defenders as well. Since they were an army, they would need time to prepare themselves. This held true even on the frontline.

There was a shocking amount of things which needed to be done. There was no more time to idle around.

Olrand ran after Pavel.

-x-X-x-

[ Part 2 ]

As the enemy troops slowly formed up, Pavel felt a sharp pain in his throat.

The slower the enemy attack, the more forces they could gather to this fortress, and the more time they would have to give the mobilization order. This was the perfect scenario for their commanding officers, but Pavel did not share their opinion.

There were demihumans with intellect that surpassed humanity. Surely the commander of such a vast army was no fool. In that case, he would know that giving their opponent time to prepare was a disadvantageous thing. In addition, it was late at night now, and the coming battle would be to the demihumans' advantage. It would be the same even if they lit bonfires.

Pavel looked at the enemy lines, four hundred meters away.

While they were organized by species, no consideration seemed to have been given to things like the weapons they wielded, their respective tactics, their various racial characteristics, and so on.

In all likelihood, the demihumans were not marching under the same flag. Otherwise they would have fielded a more logical battle line. Or was this something like an oligarchy, an alliance of demihumans led by a council of equals?

"Can't quite make it out, Boss. Can you see the enemy commander?"

"...No, I haven't spotted their leader yet."

His men had not reported sighting anything like that so far.

However, there had to be a commander. Otherwise, even forming up into units would be very difficult.

"He can't keep hiding forever. He'll surely show up on the battlefield."

Given the nature of demihumans, their leaders were strong, and they would show up to flaunt their strength.

That would be the best time for Pavel to work.

Pavel clutched his bow.

It was a magical composite longbow, infused with enchantments specialized against demihumans. In addition, he also had a Mantle of Shadow, suitable for blending into shadows and conducting ambushes, Boots of Silence, which eliminated the sound of his footsteps, a Vest of Resistance, to improve his resilience against various attacks, a Deflection Ring, to protect him from ranged weapons, and many other such items. These were a sign of how much Pavel's nation valued him.

"You lot. Prepare to shoot at any time," he ordered his subordinates, who were hidden beside him as though they had vanished into the night.

If they were humans, they would exchange envoys to read out declarations and pronouncements; that was a characteristic of wars between nobles. However, nobody from the Holy Kingdom who was quartered in this fortress, the generals included, wanted to parley with the demihumans of the hills. At the very most, they would hold talks to deceive them, or something like talks in order to buy time, and once they spotted the enemy commander they would shoot him dead on the spot.

"...You ought to be heading back to your unit now."

"I'll do that. Take care, Boss."

"Ahh, you too."

A wisp of unease wound through Pavel's heart as he watched Olrand leave.

Some demihumans possessed lethal special attacks.

For instance, the mystic eyes of the Giant Biclops.

These demihumans had unbalanced faces and a pair of disproportionately massive eyes. One of these Mystic Eyes contained the ability to 「Charm」 their foes. Its victims would unconsciously approach the opposition. Indeed, they would disregard the fact that they were on walls to take the shortest path towards the demihuman who had enthralled them.

Usually, they would be equipped with magic items to improve their resistance to such special abilities, but Olrand had not been furnished with such items. If his luck was bad, he might be taken out in one shot.

He closed his eyes to clear away his unease, and a woman's figure appeared in Pavel's mind.

She was one of the Nine Colors, the woman known as the White.

She worries me too, but in a different way. She's clueless and often gets the people around her in trouble. That's why Pink has it so hard... why does my daughter want to join her? Wouldn't it be good enough for her to just normally meet a good man, fall in love with him and then marry him — no!

He shook away the worry for his daughter that swelled in his heart.

At the same time, he looked back at the demihuman lines, to change his mood.

He did not know how many demihumans stood at the foothills, but there were many flags waving there. Those flags were not camouflage; the sole third tier magic caster in this fortress had already verified it from the sky.

In other words, there really were that many combat units gathered here today. Things would not end with a simple staring match.

Pavel began his usual ritual.

He took out a carved wooden doll from his breast pocket, and then kissed it.

This was a figurine his daughter had made when she was six. It was a grotesque doll with four sticks coming out of a ball, made to look like her father. He still clearly remembered the day when he had praised her by saying "This is a really cool monster," and how she had burst into tears, and how his wife had kicked him.

The doll was worn out because he had touched it countless times, and the carved eyes and mouth were faded away. She had grown much older since that time, so he wanted her to make a figurine that looked more like him. But perhaps she did not know his heart, because she showed no signs of wanting to remake it.

It was probably because of his long tours of duty stationed here, but he rarely had the chance to see his wife and daughter. He felt himself drawing further and further away from her every day. In the past she would have hugged him immediately, but at some point, she no longer hugged him after he returned home.

She's grown independent of her father, his wife had smiled, but this was a big thing to Pavel.

If I could take two month's leave, I'd like to go camping as a family, like we used to.

His daughter would listen with rapt attention whenever he taught her his ranger knowledge. That was what he was aiming for. That said, he knew it would probably not work out.

He put the doll back into his pocket.

His daughter was rarely home due to her aim of becoming a paladin. When Pavel returned to his home after a long absence, his daughter was often away.

It would be best if she married a neighbor after all... no, someone who lived a little close by, or no, someone who stayed in the vicinity.

A paladin's way of life was the least suitable for his daughter. He had been observing her all this time, so he was sure of it.

His daughter had chosen this path because she admired how her mother looked as a paladin. However, that was not enough to be a paladin.

Only a knight who physically expressed the justice they believed in could be called a paladin.

Therefore, although he did not say it — largely because his wife was very scary — to him, paladins were essentially zealots.

I wonder if my girl knows that.... While I don't want her to know...

"—That really is an incredible number out there."

His adjutant muttered to himself under his breath, which brought Pavel to his senses.

"Ahhh, that's right. Still, there's no need to be scared. All you need to do is support me."

In addition to his adjutant, the mood from the men around him relaxed somewhat.

That's right, that's it. Tension is the archenemy of sniping.

And just as Pavel broke his own blank face — although he did not realize it — with a thin smile, there was movement in the enemy lines.

A lone demihuman slowly stepped forward.

Despite the many demihumans around him, he was unescorted. Did he not need an escort, or was he full of arrogance, or perhaps he was a messenger whose death would not be missed?

"Should we shoot him?"

"Not for now. But move to a place where it'll be easy to shoot and then wait for my order."

After quietly giving his orders, his men sped away in droves, like lengthening shadows.

Was he the enemy general, or just a simple messenger? Pavel studied him carefully to find out.

That demihuman... what species does he belong to? Doesn't feel like I've seen him before... and what's with those clothes? Is it a tribal outfit? Is that mask something like that too?

He was definitely not human. There was a tail coming from behind his waist.

The problem was the demihuman's clothes. One could think of it as a tribal costume, and indeed, it felt like it might have been something like that. However, even at this distance, one could tell that the clothing was of excellent make, even when compared to that of humans.

Highly civilized demihumans are very troublesome...

It was not just Pavel. All the soldiers waiting on the walls gulped as they watched every move the demihuman made. Amidst the oppressive mood in the air, the demihuman approached to within fifty meters of his location.

"That's far enough! Any further and you'll be encroaching on the Holy Kingdom's territory! This is no place for you demihumans! Leave at once!"

The voice was loud enough that even Pavel, who was some distance away, felt it was loud. It came from the man in command of the fortress, one of just five generals in the Holy Kingdom. He imagined he could feel the voice of the man in unadorned, battle-scarred armor resonating in his gut.

The reason why he only had one staff officer by his side was probably because he did not intend to get the others caught up in it if the enemy launched an attack. In their place were many troops with tower shields hidden behind them, ready to rush out if anything happened.

In contrast, the demihuman's voice was gentle and pleasing to the ear. It seemed to worm its way into every man's heart. Even at this distance, it still reached Pavel's ears.

"That we already know. Now then — may I know who you are?"

"I'm — I'm the general in charge of this fortress! Who are you!?"

There was no need to tell the opposition that, Pavel frowned, but he already knew that the general was not a shrewd man. Therefore, he should have regarded this outcome as inevitable.

"I see, I see. Since you have given your name, I fear it might be rude not to respond in kind. Greetings, ladies and gentlemen of the Holy Kingdom. My name is Jaldabaoth."

"Could it be!?"

The man who shouted was the staff officer near the general.

"The archfiend Jaldabaoth! Are you the demon who led an army of demons in that disturbance in the Kingdom's Royal Capital!?"

"Ohh! I am honored that you know my name. Indeed, I was the architect of that magnificent feast in the Re-Estize Kingdom. However... the title of Archfiend is quite saddening... yes, I was wondering if you could address me as the Demon Emperor Jaldabaoth."

Pavel tasted that phrase, "Demon Emperor Jaldabaoth."

It was a truly arrogant title, but given the many demihumans it led, and after thinking back on what he had heard about the disturbance in the Royal Capital, that title might be well-deserved.

"Damn you! Are you laying your designs on us after what you did to the Kingdom!?"

"No, that is not quite right. It is because I met a fearsome warrior in the Kingdom—"

Jaldabaoth shrugged boredly. There was an indescribable sense of style to that movement, and it made Pavel imagine he was looking at a human noble for a moment.

"—Well, do permit me to keep that knowledge to myself."

"Then what business do you have here? Why did you lead these demihumans to this place?"

"I have come here to turn this country into a living hell. I wish to make this country one which echoes with cries, curses, and screams everlasting. However, making sport of millions of human beings individually is impossible, and so I have brought them along. In my place, they will plunge you pitiful humans shoulder-deep into a morass of despair, in order to draw wails of regret and suffering from you all."

Jaldabaoth said so very happily.

At this point, Pavel learned the meaning of evil. What the holy men shouted about the "wicked demihumans" was nothing more than propaganda to raise fighting spirit. It was practically sleeptalking. From a detached point of view, demihuman invasions were nothing more than going to the farm to feed themselves.

Terror filled Pavel's body. At the same time, he made up his mind.

He would not allow that demon to set foot upon the Holy Kingdom's land, where his wife and daughter were.

He tightened his grip on the bow in his hand.

If Jaldabaoth's words were intended to intimidate them, then they had been a complete failure. Humans were not cowardly and weak creatures. They would let him taste the foolishness of underestimating humanity with their vicious counterattack.

The people here possessed the iron will to defend the Holy Kingdom, and even if it had rusted a little in the past few years, they were still fiercely devoted to their home nation.

"—Do you think we'd let you do something like that!? Listen now, Jaldabaoth the fool!" the general barked.

Indeed. He was barking.

"This is the first line of the Holy Kingdom's defense! It is also the last line of its defense! Beyond us lies the peace of the Holy Kingdom's people! Did you think we would let you trample it as you wish!?"

The nearby soldiers shouted, "Uoooohhhh!" in response to the general's bellowing. In that moment, their fighting spirit flared up. Pavel would have cried out as well if he were not hiding himself, and perhaps his subordinates, whose bodies trembled faintly, felt the same way.

However, a round of out-of-place applause threw a damper on that. After clapping for a while, the demon spoke up.

"Watchdogs which guard the cradle, hm? I cannot say I disapprove. It is very important to protect things. —Yes, I approve very much. That being the case, I shall give the people I capture here the finest possible reception."

The way he laughed as he spoke made him sound like he was enjoying himself.

Jaldabaoth did not speak particularly loudly. Therefore, it would have been understandable if his voice did not carry over to where Pavel was. Even so, the words reached him with a mysterious clarity, as though they were coming from behind himself.

—Don't worry about it, that might be the work of magic.

Spells and magic items which amplified sound existed, and it was very likely that Jaldabaoth was using those. However, he could not escape the unpleasant feeling which seemed to adhere to his back.

"I will not accept surrender or anything of the sort. Entertain me to the best of your ability. Now then — let us begin."

Pavel gave his subordinates the order to shoot.

There was no need to wait for the General's commands. They were permitted a degree of independence, because opportunities to snipe the enemy commander were not readily available. Waiting for approval from their superior might result in them missing their chance.

Pavel stood up.

The men around him followed suit.

It took only a moment to lock onto his target. A distance of fifty meters was essentially point blank range to Pavel. He drew his bow, filled with the intent to kill — and Pavel felt Jaldabaoth's eyes meet his through the mask.

We won't give you the time to flee or defend yourself. If you want to blame anything, blame your own arrogance for coming out onto the frontlines alone!

"—Loose!"

Fifty one arrows flew out in time with Pavel's voice.

Their enchanted bows discharged magical arrows.

The flaming arrows left red lines hanging in the air, blue trails lingered behind the ice arrows, the lightning arrows' path was marked in yellow, green streaks followed in the wake of the acid arrows, and Pavel's own holy arrow traced a white trajectory as they all soared through the void.

The arrows loosed from the fully-drawn bows travelled flat paths as they streaked through the air, each one striking Jaldabaoth's body without deviating in the slightest.

Pavel's shots were exceptionally potent, and after being enhanced with his martial arts and his skills, each of them possessed power comparable to a mighty downward slash from a heavy trooper. If he were hit by this, even a man in full plate would be knocked back and sent rolling over the ground.

However — Jaldabaoth did not move in the slightest even after taking fifty one arrows.

And then, something happened which made him doubt his eyes.

The arrows which should have punched through his body fell to the ground.

What!? Is he defended against projectiles!?

Pavel quickly nocked his second arrow as he thought about how Jaldabaoth had defended against those arrow shots.

Some monsters were able to nullify attacks through their special qualities. For instance, lycanthropes and the like were nigh-invulnerable if one did not use silver weapons against them.

He considered that Jaldabaoth might have a similar ability. In that case, what sort of attack could breach Jaldabaoth's defenses?

The arrow he had launched just now was made of steel, and it was enchanted with holy power that was especially effective against those of evil alignment. While it was said that demons could not defend against it, there was no denying that Jaldabaoth had proven immune to it. In that case, it would be best to use other arrows to learn more about the opposition, tearing down his veil of mystery to chart a course for victory.

Pavel readied a silver arrow next. It too was imbued with righteous power.

"...Now then, do permit me to make a move of my own. It is a trifling present, but I would be delighted if you would accept it. This is a tenth tier spell: 「Meteor Fall」."

Pavel sensed something from above him, approaching with unavoidable speed. Looking up, he saw a mass of light.

It was a gigantic heated rock — no, it was something bigger than that.

Light gradually filled his vision, and for a moment he glimpsed the forms of his wife and daughter amidst the light.

He knew it was an illusion. His daughter was old enough that she could choose her own path in life. Even so, the daughter he saw was still young, and his wife who held her still looked very young.

No, if I don't say she's still young now, she'll probably kill me—

-x-X-x-

The falling meteor slashed through the sky and hit the wall, where it burst into an explosion. A thunderous roar echoed all around. The massive shockwave flattened everything it touched and shattered the wall.

As the sand and dirt thrown up by the shockwave of the explosion begin falling back to earth, the dust slowly began to settle.

What it revealed was the remains of the broken wall, blasted to smithereens, and drifting smoke.

After looking at the devastated fortifications, there was no need to think about what had happened to the soldiers stationed there.

Humans could not possibly survive such conditions.

Of course, Demiurge knew that some humans could endure such things. For instance, there were the fools who had stepped into the Great Underground Tomb of Nazarick, the holy land created by the Supreme Beings. However, he had done thorough research beforehand, and he had verified that no such humans existed here.

"Now then, this ought to be enough for preparations."

Demiurge dusted off his suit with his hands. He had not been showered with sand or dirt, but the dust from the blast had reached him, so there was a slight earthy scent clinging to him. No — he would have done so even if that had not been the case. After all, this was a valuable item from the great being who had made him.

Of course, Demiurge had many other clothes besides this set, but that did not mean that he could treat it carelessly because of that.

As he thought of his mighty creator, he smiled behind his mask, and then looked out at the pitiful humans.

If he followed up with an attack, the enemy's confusion would become that much more apparent, and at that point, the demihuman assault would cause a complete rout. However, he had not used that spell just now for that purpose.

Demiurge could only cast a very small number of spells; there was only one other tenth tier spell available to him. His true power lay in his skills, and while he had used that spell just now to conserve his strength, the scene before his eyes was sufficiently tragic as it was.

There was no sign of a counterattack. It would seem they were desperately trying to collect information and regroup.

Their commander is not dead... and their confusion doesn't seem because they're suspicious of us... are they really all right?

Demiurge turned his back to the humans, walking back to the formation of his slaves.

He was not even on guard against the possibility of being attacked from behind.

He could afford to be this lax because of all the information he had gathered.

Demiurge was very strong.

Indeed, he might be ranked lowly among the Floor Guardians, but he was confident of victory in battle. That was because he knew that battles were fought because one was confident of winning them. That was to say, one should not choose to fight if one was unable to win, unless otherwise ordered.

There was only one person that Demiurge could not defeat — in other words, there was only one opponent against whom Demiurge could not prepare enough to assure his own victory.

That person possessed intellect which surpassed his, schemes which beggared the imagination, a view of the world which seemed to extend out unto eternity, the ultimate pinnacle who held everything in the palm of his hand.

He was the supreme ruler of the Great Underground Tomb of Nazarick — Ainz Ooal Gown.

That Supreme Being was the one to whom Demiurge owed his loyalty.

Producing a great deal of undead was part of his plan. Once that scheme takes effect, nobody will be able to harm Ainz-sama. How fearsome he is. It seems the others do not yet realise how joyful it is to be ruled by such a Supreme Being—

There was a thud. This was the first time something had happened which Demiurge had not expected. He turned to look at the source of the sound.

It would seem someone had jumped down from the wall. The man in question slowly rose to his feet.

"The, the boss is dead. He, he was the man I wanted to defeat!"

The man drew his swords with both hands as he said so.

Demiurge evaluated the man from his appearance. He reached an answer immediately.

Threat Level — E (Worm).

Error Probability — E (None at all).

Importance — E (Guinea pig).

In other words, he was nothing but trash. Still, he was one of the Nine Colors — while not all of them were impressive, he thought that it would be good to capture him and run all sorts of experiments on him.

"Uoooooooh!"

The screaming man ran over to him.

Slow. So slow. If this is the extent of his speed, should he not have used his brain more? For instance using 「Silence」 to approach quietly and close the gap between us...

This was a distance his comrades would have been able to close in an instant. The man — slowly — ran over to him.

According to the information Demiurge had collected, this man of inferior ability could apparently use a special attack that was several times more powerful than normal in exchange for breaking his weapons. Therefore, he had a sword in each hand, and several more swords like it at his waist.

How should I kill him? If I finish him off as cleanly as possible, then when I take him back I can — ah, he's finally arrived.

After ensuring that he would not be splashed by the man's spraying blood, Demiurge gave an order.

"『...Stab yourself in the throat with your swords.』"

There was a choked gurgle.

A look of bafflement appeared in the eyes of the man who had just pierced his own throat with the blades he held. His eyes clouded over like marbles as he collapsed to the ground.

Pained cries rose from the wall.

Demiurge turned, walked over to the man's side, and picked him up by the collar with a single hooked index finger before returning to his formation.

After he returned to his lines, the representatives of the various tribes — not their leaders — gathered before him.

Demiurge had mentally divided the demihumans into two groups.

One kind craved fresh blood and viewed humans as food. They would obey the strong, and they gladly obeyed Demiurge's commands. The other kind were those who had been made to kneel before the terror of Demiurge, and they obeyed him due to negative inducements like fear.

Demiurge had selected a group of the latter kind.

"You took your time in assembling."

Saying so, he seized the shoulder of a random demihuman he had selected from the group. Its species was known as Zerns. After doing so, he ripped the skin from its shoulder.

While Demiurge was among the weaker Floor Guardians, he could still do that much.

The demihuman whose skin — and some of its flesh — had been ripped off collapsed to the ground in intense agony, shrieking wordlessly.

"Now then, begin the attack. Take care not to sustain too many losses. The main course begins after we get past this wall," Demiurge said in a gentle tone.

His kindness was genuine when it was directed to his fellow denizens of Nazarick. He was a very gentle person when it came to his friends. However, to everyone else, his kindness was merely the care he gave to his tools.

After receiving his orders, the demihumans ran back to their various tribes. The demihuman rolling around on the ground was no exception.

The message they bore was that those who obeyed Demiurge's orders and achieved good results would meet a happy fate. Naturally, they also carried the message that achieving the opposite results meant that their future would be anything but happy.

Demiurge smiled gently as he watched the receding backs of the beastmen.

"—Then, let us begin the next step of our plan. —Demons."

Demiurge activated one of his skills and summoned a vast quantity of the demons he intended to use as sacrificial pawns.

While these demons were extremely weak compared to Demiurge, summoning stronger demons would mean he could not summon as many. The important thing in this operation was to spread the word that the Holy Kingdom's army had been assaulted by demons, which meant that quantity was the priority here.

"Listen carefully now. Support the demihumans in their efforts. Also, limit your pursuit of the humans. Do not do something as foolish as not allowing a single one to flee the fortress."

The low ranked demons nodded, and soared into the sky as one.

While summoned monsters were supposed to know a portion of what their summoner knew, said information was generally quite vague.. It would be best to regard it as the ability to tell friend from foe. Therefore, it was important to give verbal commands to summoned creatures.

Now then... it would be good if the ball landed on target.

Demiurge's perspicacious mind pondered all manner of situations, and after computing dozens of eventualities, he made the appropriate corrections to achieve his aim. Slight deviations were within his predictions. However, there were times when utter fools would lead to situations developing beyond their expectations.

Surely someone with Ainz-sama's intellect could even predict the actions of fools... I'm still a long way off. Come to think of it, it would be good if I could share this with Ainz-sama...

As he thought that, Demiurge's heart raced unbidden. He had spent a great deal of time preparing this stage; if he could not even share it with his supreme master, what would Demiurge do?

Ladies and gentlemen of the Holy Kingdom, I have a sincere wish. Please allow Ainz-sama to enjoy himself with your suffering forms. ... Although, how will Ainz-sama adjust my plans for a better outcome?

Like a student waiting for a respected teacher to dispense instruction, Demiurge smiled as his heart filled with the fires of anticipation and excitement.

Oh, to learn from Ainz-sama's actions, progress towards a better self, and further deepen my loyalty. How wonderful it is!

To Demiurge, who had been born to serve the Supreme Beings, nothing was more delightful than giving his all for his master.

"Ahhh, this is truly marvellous..."

-x-X-x-

[ Part 3 ]

The news of a demihuman alliance — one that comprised a massive army — crushing the strongest central fortress and its vast quantities of soldiers, then subsequently crossing the wall, had already begun spreading throughout the Holy Kingdom.

The leader of the demihuman alliance was called the Demon Emperor Jaldabaoth.

He was a demon who had caused great havoc in the Kingdom, and he had used powerful magic to shred the wall like tissue paper.

The demihuman alliance was made up of eighteen species, and their numbers were estimated in excess of one hundred thousand. This army of demihumans was now focused on destroying the walls and fortifications, and their advance had ground to a halt.

After learning this, the leader of the Holy Kingdom — the Holy Queen — issued a general mobilization order to the entire nation.

Since the Holy Kingdom's territory was stretched around the northern and southern edges of a central bay, any mobilized forces would naturally be formed into two armies — the Northern Holy Kingdom Army and the Southern Holy Kingdom Army.

The armies each moved towards their own important locations — the city of Kalinsha in the north, and the city of Debonei in the south — where they spied on the enemy's movements for several days.

The reports they received from the troops observing the wall made the situation even more pressing.

—The demihuman alliance, in all its strength, was moving west—

—They would reach the northern fortress city of Kalinsha in a few days—

"Really now? So this place is going to become a battlefield after all..."

The speaker was the Holy Queen, Calca Bessarez.

Due to her low place in the order of succession — only males had inherited the Holy Kingdom until now — she should never have taken the position of Holy Queen. However, due to two qualities she had, the crown had eventually been placed upon her brow.

The first was her beautiful looks. Her face was as beautiful as a freshly-bloomed flower, filled with cuteness and dignity, and it was praised as "the treasure of Roble," while her radiant, vibrant long hair was like threads of spun gold. Since it resembled an angel's halo, many who saw her gentle smile went on to describe her as a saint.

The other quality was her excellence as a divine magic caster. She was a genius who could use fourth tier spells at the tender age of fifteen, and she had ascended to the throne with the firm backing of the previous Holy King and the temples.

Almost ten years had passed since then, while certain voices disapproved of her excessive kindness, she had not made any mistakes which could be considered critical and thus she had ruled the Holy Kingdom to this day. However, this rule was not solid, and embers smoldered out of sight.

"I understand your sadness, Calca-sama, but the people who live in Kalinsha do so because they have prepared themselves for a day like this. In the past, there was also... ahem, that battle, where this city was the heart of the fighting. That's why the walls here are even taller and sturdier than anywhere else."

The person trying to console her was a woman with brown hair.

While she was as beautiful as the Holy Queen, her eyes contained a cold, razor-sharp look, like the edge of a blade. She was dressed in a suit of silvery full plate armor and a surcoat. These were the traditional vestments of the Paladin Order's Captain, an ancient article of magical masterwork. The most important thing was the sword at her waist, whose name was known to everyone in the Holy Kingdom.

It was renowned as one of the four Holy Swords, the holy sword Safalrisia.

One of the Thirteen Heroes, known as Black Knight, was said to have carried four swords — the evil blade Hyumilis, the demonic blade Kilineyram, the blade of rot Crocdabal, and the fatal blade Sfeiz. This was one of the four swords which existed as a counterpart to them. Incidentally, the other three holy swords were known as the sword of law, the sword of justice, and the sword of life.

Wielding a powerful sword often led to one becoming drunk on its power and neglecting the fundamentals of swordsmanship. Therefore, the fact that she carried that sword which she would normally never carry was a sign of her unshakable determination to join the upcoming battle, and to win it.

Her name was Remedios Custodio.

She was a close friend of Calca, and as the strongest Captain of the order in history, a feat founded upon her fighting prowess. She was "White" of the Nine Colors.

"Yup, yup. And we've also sent all the noncombatants off to take shelter so there won't be casualties among them. Rather, don't you think the more pressing problem after the war will be the expenses incurred during the fighting?"

The person going ufufufufu in an indecent way was a woman.

While the shape of her eyes and mouth varied slightly, her face still bore a close resemblance to that of Remedios. However, those faint differences were enough to change the impression others had of her. She always looked like she was plotting something — or in less polite terms, that she was surrounded by a sinister air.

She was Remedios's sister, younger than her by two years, Queralt Custodio.

She was the high priestess of the temples, and leader of the priesthood.

It was public knowledge that she could use divine magic of the fourth tier.

However, that was but a deception; those close to her knew that she could cast fifth tier spells.

Incidentally, she was not one of the Nine Colors. While the temples were under the Holy Queen, it was government policy not to bestow a Color title on one of their number in order to avoid problems with the balance of power.

These sisters were known as the genius Custodio sisters, the twin wings of the Holy Queen.

Until now, many nobles had their doubts about Calca's ascension to the throne as a female, and they wondered if she had done something with or to the sisters. Therefore, they often spoke ill of all three of them at the same time.

While many rumors about them had been cleared up, one particular piece of gossip remained. All three of them were unmarried — without so much as a male lover — and so it was said that their relationship was anything but ordinary. However much Calca denied it, she could not shake herself free of that rumor, and it was a major source of frustration for her.

"Just hearing that gives me a headache. It's pretty bad that we won't stand to gain anything even if we win."

"Still, they say that the demihumans this time round are outfitted pretty well. Why not sell their gear?"

"That's right — you know I can't approve of that, nee-sama. Let's say we wanted to sell their armor — where would we sell it? You haven't thought about that, have you? We can only sell them overseas, but demihuman armor isn't going to command anything but bargain basement prices. Besides, we ought to avoid strengthening other countries' arsenals until the destroyed wall is rebuilt. In particular, I hope they don't fall into the hands of the Sorcerous Kingdom."

"Huh? You don't like the Sorcerous Kingdom? I've never heard you say that in court, though."

"No priest would like them. You're the same way too, right, Calca-sama?"

Calca pondered the matter. As part of the clergy and the Holy Queen, she disliked them. However, as a head of state—

"—A king's duty is to love his nation, love his people, and grant them peace. As long as he does that, it should be fine, right?"

The sisters looked at each other in front of Calca.

"Love? No way. Could an undead being ever think like that?"

"I agree with nee-sama. The undead — I don't think they could love like you do, Calca-sama."

"The two of you are harsh. Still, you can't just badmouth people without even seeing them, right?"

The puzzled looks on their faces looked very similar. Calca mused that they were siblings after all, and after quelling the smile on her face, her voice turned serious.

"What did your adjutants say? Queralt, tell me our plan for dealing with Jaldabaoth."

The Holy Queen did not take part in strategy meetings. Instead, she went around the soldiers to boost their morale. While the Holy Kingdom's troops were better trained than those of other nations, they were ultimately conscripts. It was important to motivate them.

"Yes. We're already discussing how to deal with situations where the demihumans encircle this city, bypass it, advance to the south, split up to accomplish different objectives, and so on."

It was times like these that reaffirmed her belief that the sisters were similar, but not alike. If she had asked the elder sister that question, the answer she would get would make her want to grab her head in frustration.

"I see... then, which possibility do you think is the most likely?"

"Given the invasion path of the demihumans so far, it's most likely that they will choose to encircle this city. However, there is a problem with that."

"Mm, yes."

"What do you mean?"

Remedios had not participated in the meetings either, given that she was Calca's bodyguard. However, the fact that she had not grasped the answer which the Holy Queen had instantly realized was due to another problem.

"...Nee-sama. I'm talking about the demon who wrought havoc in the Kingdom, Jaldabaoth. While there's no telling how smart he is, demons are skilled at schemes and trickery. He might adopt a plan we did not foresee."

"I see... the adjutants who have to handle strategy and planning sure have it tough..."

While there was much she wanted to say to the leader of the Paladin Order, Calca resisted the urge to do so

"...This is quite vexing. Then, if the demihumans encircle this city, what will happen after that? While food supplies are ample, fighting a defensive siege is going to wreak horrors on morale. Have you considered that as well?"

"Yes. Normally, all we would have to do is wait for reinforcements from the south to arrive, but we have reports saying that Jaldabaoth used a mysterious power to destroy the wall in a single blow. As long as that tremendous factor of uncertainty in play..."

The three of them frowned as one.

Anyone would be upset when they thought of what had happened to the wall, but Calca knew what was going on.

Remedios was simply imitating what the other two had done.

Remedios did not like to think, and she was a very stubborn person. That was a flaw, but it was also the reason that she could embody absolute justice.

The nature of justice was difficult to contemplate. For instance, imagine if there were two children, one human and one demihuman. Being pure and innocent, they became friends. However, if the demihuman child was discovered by adults, he would be locked up, and the human child would plead for his life. However, if they let the demihuman child go, he might grow up to become a threat to humanity. Was killing the demihuman child just or unjust? This was not a question that could be easily answered.

Calca would have spared him without any hesitation.

Remedios, however, would kill him without any doubts. In addition, she would insist that she was righteous, and not feel a shred of guilt about it. In her heart, anything she did for the sake of the nation and people was acceptable.

When she took the throne of the Holy Queen, Calca had declared to her two close friends, "I will grant happiness to the smallfolk, and make a country where nobody will cry." In response, she had said, "I will support you and uphold your just cause." With that pledge in her heart, she was more forthright than anyone else, her heart filled with conviction, and the light in her eyes was like that of a fanatic.

Someone like that was clearly dangerous, yet Calca did not distance herself from her friend. The righteous impulses of loving others, loving peace, hating evil, and the desire to aid the weak were all things she ought to welcome.

And it was because of that nature of hers that what she thought and what she did were the same. Because she did not think about her words, everything she said came from her heart.

Any organization — particularly those that had stood for a long time — would become sluggish due to worries and cares. In addition, their original purity of purpose would tarnish and grow dim.

Since power rested in the hand of one person, it was only natural that power struggles would take place. Even if a victor was decided, the battle against suspicion, jealousy, and fear would continue, until one side eventually perished.

Calca had been freed from this curse halfway though. That was because she had attained magical power that ranked highly even when compared to the past generations of Holy Kings. Others had lauded her for it, and her heart was at ease. Therefore, Calca could put aside her mental preparations to take the throne of the Holy Queen, but her brothers did not feel the same way.

There was only one elder brother among her relatives whom she could trust: Caspond.

Since she lived like this all this time, Remedios was a spiritual oasis for Calca.

"Umu. Such unbelievable power makes me think of the might of the Demon Gods from the stories."

"Nee-sama, even the Demon Gods weren't this powerful. For all we know, Jaldabaoth might be a being superior to the Demon Gods."

"...What a pain. Then how shall we beat him?"

"What are you worrying about, Calca-sama! They say he was defeated by the adamantite ranked adventurers of the Kingdom. Don't you think we could do the same too?"

"...That is true. If adventurers comparable to us could do it... but the problem now lies in whether or not Jaldabaoth can repeatedly use that power which brought down the wall."

"On that note, the adjutants feel that given the wall was only struck once, he ought to have problems using it in succession."

"That's understandable. If he could use it repeatedly, then he could have just done so. He didn't because he could only attack once."

Calca agreed with Remedios's opinion. If there was a way to do it, there was no reason not to repeatedly use that attack.

It was the same with Calca. She lightly stroked the crown she wore. It was a magic item that was the binding focus for the grand ritual spell that had been passed down through the Holy Kingdom, the 「Last Holy War」.

"...Well, we can conscript high ranking adventurers, the kind who are used to defeating monsters and the like, as part of mobilizing our people. If we muster up our full fighting power, Jaldabaoth's hardly an unbeatable foe. The fact is, he's already been defeated once before."

The Adventurer's Guild had strongly protested the conscription of adventurers into the army, but Calca had not revoked her order. It was only to be expected — this was a matter of national importance, and splitting their strength was foolish in the extreme. In addition, the Adventurer's Guild was hardly as powerful as the Holy Kingdom itself, so forcing them to obey was a simple task.

"That's true. Though I guess we failed in that we didn't gain detailed intelligence about Jaldabaoth's activities in the Kingdom."

"I apologize for that."

"No, I didn't mean that, Queralt. You're not at fault. The blame lies with me, since I didn't pay attention to news about other countries."

"Certainly not, Calca-sama. It's definitely Queralt's fault."

"Nee-sama..."

"Well, it's certainly not my fault. I did my job by protecting Calca-sama and clearing away monsters! I didn't mess up in my job. That's what they call making appropriate use of talent!"

Remedios puffed up her chest and hmphed in triumph.

She was correct to say so. That said, it still bothered her.

"...Could it be that Jaldabaoth was behind those incidents where all the people from several villages went missing?"

"That might be the case..."

Some time ago, the residents of quite a few villages had all gone missing. In the end, they had not managed to collect any information pointing to a culprit, but it was possible that Jaldabaoth was pulling the strings behind the scenes.

"In that case, we need to sort this out before we defeat Jaldabaoth. Speaking of which, if only the Kingdom had properly finished him off, we wouldn't have had trouble like this... did Gazef Stronoff fight him?"

Queralt looked at Calca with a puzzled look on her face.

Her eyes seemed to be asking, Didn't you tell Nee-sama about it? Therefore, Calca gave her an answer which laid those doubts to rest, and then she smiled tiredly.

Translated, it meant, Of course I told her. I told her about how Jaldabaoth attacked the Royal Capital, how the adventurers defeated Jaldabaoth, the other demons that appeared, and how the Warrior-Captain defeated them all. I told her everything... so it must have been squeezed out by other things and gone in one ear and out the other.

"...I really feel sorry for Nee-sama's Vice-Captains."

"Hm? Why are you talking about them all of a sudden?"

Queralt did not answer that question, instead curling a lock of hair around her finger.

Since Remedios did not do any thinking, then there had to be someone to cover her ass. That would be them.

She could keenly appreciate the suffering they went through. However, Remedios's innocence — or stupidity, if one were not inclined to be polite — also had a healing effect on the soul, so the positives and negatives cancelled each other out.

"...Hah. I only know the rough details, but apparently, he fought with another demon, which was covered in scales."

"Really now. Well, if he had defeated Jaldabaoth, things wouldn't have ended up like this. Or don't tell me those adamantite ranked adventurers are stronger than him?"

"I'm not too sure about that, but I think that might be the case."

Remedios frowned in distaste.

She was probably unhappy because someone whose strength she had acknowledged was being slighted by someone else.

"Well, all he knows is how to use a sword. If he had anti-demon attacks like we do, things would probably have been different.

In pure fighting power, paladins were a notch below warriors. However, that was not the case when fighting evil beings. Remedios was right, but Queralt still sighed quietly.

Just then, Calca imagined that she had heard the sound of bells.

Remedios immediately sprang into action. At times like this, she was still the first to act.

She flung open the windows.

The early autumn air flowed in, and the air warmed by their three bodies flowed out.

The bracing, cool air brought with it the sound of ringing bells. That was proof that what she had heard earlier was not a ghost sound caused by her ears ringing. No, it would have been much better if she had just misheard things.

At the same time, she heard the sound of several footsteps from the hallway.

"Calca-sama, please stand behind me."

Remedios quickly drew the holy sword Safalrisia and moved up, putting herself between Calca and the door.

The door opened with a pon.

"Your Majesty!"

She recognized the first man to enter the room as he shouted at the top of his voice — he was the chief of staff.

"What happened? Why are you in such a rush?"

Remedios's voice carried a hint of rebuke, and the chief of staff replied in a clearly disconcerted tone.

"There was no time to slowly walk over! Your Majesty! It's Jaldabaoth! Jaldabaoth's appeared inside the city! He's begun destroying the city with many demons in tow! Also, the demihumans have made their move! It looks like they're advancing on this place!"

"What did you say!?"

"We've sighted the demihuman army in the vicinity. We don't know how they deceived our sentries, but we were fed false information! The fighting's going to start any moment now!"

While the sudden excess of information confused her, that lasted for only a second. Calca immediately resumed her queenly demeanor and gave orders.

"While this is a great departure from our plans, we will begin combat with Jaldabaoth now. While we stall him, prepare to engage the demihuman army. Convey my orders to the adventurers!"

As she heard her subordinate's words, the doubts in Calca's heart flooded back again.

Had she underestimated Jaldabaoth?

Of course, she had no intention of underestimating the demon who could easily destroy the wall. But was the feeling that she could beat him a mistake in itself? Would it not have been better to fall back until they had finished learning about their enemy?

No. Calca waved away the budding weakness in her heart.

If they did not fight now, then when would they fight? While it was important to know the enemy, now was the only chance they had to strike with all their might. After this, the attrition of battle would deplete their resources, and it would become more and more difficult to muster the power they could command now.

In addition, continuously retreating until they had completed their intelligence-gathering operations was essentially permitting their country to be trampled underfoot.

If that were the case, an unimaginable number of her citizens would end up suffering.