Congratulations, Momonga-sama. Your servant Sebas stands in awe of your prowess."
The sound of dignified, perfectly-timed claps echoed as Momonga sat before a Mirror of Remote Viewing.
"Thank you, Sebas. Although I apologize for making you accompany me for so long."
"What are you saying? Staying by your side and obeying your orders is the reason for a butler's existence, Momonga-sama. There is no need to thank or apologize to me... although, it is true that this process took quite some time. Momonga-sama, would you like to take a break?"
"No, there is no need for that," the Overlord replied dismissively, "Undead like myself are not affected by negative statuses like fatigue. If you're tired, you may go and rest."
"Thank you for your kindness, but it would be unthinkable for a butler to rest while his master worked. With the aid of magic items, I am not affected by fatigue either. Please allow me to stay by your side until the end, Momonga-sama."
Agreeing to Sebas' request, Momonga's attention returned to the mirror. Excited by his new discovery, he continued exploring more ways to control it. With a widened field of view, it wasn't long until he discovered the method to adjust the height of his viewpoint. Momonga smiled in satisfaction to himself, and immediately set out to search for a populated area.
Roughly ten kilometres south of Nazarick, he found it. A small village had appeared on the mirror, with a nearby forest and surrounded by wheat fields, the rustic settlement before him was certainly not of Yggdrasil origin.
As the village took up more and more of the frame, Momonga paused upon the scene.
"A battle...?" He mused.
"It appears so, Momonga-sama," a steely voice responded. Sebas watched the display in concert with his master; a keen look in his eye.
A lone figure could be seen sweeping through the village, their movements swift and precise. Swathes of knights fell with little resistance. With a glimmering scythe held high, they were cut down with movements imperceptible to the common eye. It was a massacre; an act of violence carried out without hesitation or mercy.
As the spectacle continued, Momonga grew weary.
A solo player?
Momonga's eyes narrowed as he studied the scene before him, his mind pondering the possibility. He found it to be increasingly likely. Unlike the forgettable fantasy-esque knights running around in the background, a player always stood out like a shining beacon of brilliance. A melee-type fighter equipped with a war scythe, and gear to complement the avatar's thematic colours; Momonga could appreciate the style-over-substance design.
Quickly running through a list of notable players off the top of his head, none seemed to match the description. Attempting to cast [Discern Enemy] through the mirror, the spell seemed to fail.
"Sebas, what level would you consider them to be at?"
"Mm. It is quite difficult to judge one's level seeing them paired against such weak opponents. However, if I were to make a humble estimate, Momonga-sama, I would say they are no weaker than a level seventy, and no stronger than level eighty," the Great Tomb's Butler evaluated.
"Hoh?" Bringing a bony finger over his chin, Momonga's gaze met Sebas. "So you are saying that you could defeat them in a PVP?"
"Yes, I believe I could defeat her in ten out of ten instances," Sebas plainly stated.
Momonga's worries eased with the NPC's reply. If this player was outclassed by Sebas in single-combat, then Nazarick's numbers advantage should comfortably triumph in case of hostilities. The only issue was whether this was merely a solo player or someone affiliated with a guild. If it was the latter, then his troubles weren't over just yet. Ainz Ooal Gown: a guild of heteromorphs with a reputation for PK'ing, first contact might not go as smoothly as he might hope for.
"I see. Then let us observe further..." Momonga murmured. After all, it was a great opportunity to gather information for Nazarick, seeing that the player hadn't employed any anti-divination countermeasures.
As the woman moved from group to group, they continued to mow down any who got in their way. And as if to mock those who tried to flee, she'd shear their legs off by the kneecaps and watch as they squirmed along the ground. It disturbed Momonga that he hadn't reacted to the slaughter in any way. Was he really so callous towards death?
It felt like he was watching a TV show about animals and insects, where the strong ate the weak. Could it be that as one of the undead, he no longer considered himself part of humanity? No, how could that be? Momonga struggled to find an excuse to justify his thinking. Stretching out a bony hand to rub his skull, he questioned. Could it be that after becoming an undead being who was immune to mind-affecting effects, he had become inured to scenes like this? Definitely not.
Momonga's thoughts were interrupted when the player stopped moving. It was then that his attention was drawn to the surroundings, where not a single opponent was left in the vicinity. Or at least, none that stood. In a ring of her enemy's blood, corpses littered the ground. All were killed with a single method, as if doing anything more was an insult to herself. A single slash, straight through the abdomen, or if she felt less merciful, they were reduced to writhing, legless beasts on the floor. Although no sound came from the Mirror of Remote Viewing, its silence seemed to spill over into reality, creating an unsettling atmosphere.
"Momonga-sama, may I humbly ask to amend my prior statement?"
Momonga breathed a quiet sigh of relief as Sebas saved him from the awkward silence.
"Ah, go ahead."
"I believe I could defeat her in nine out of ten instances."
A ten percent drop? Momonga was surprised by the NPC's decreased confidence.
"Ah, is that so? Indeed, I thought her display was quite... hmm... how do you say it... impressive? Err... inhuman? Yes," he muttered to himself.
Looking back at the mirror, Momonga observed the female warrior standing in the pool of blood. She had planted her scythe into the ground like a flag, as if to announce to the world 'I'm done'. Momonga couldn't help but feel a slight sense of respect for this woman; despite having been surrounded by enemies, she didn't appear to be worn out in the slightest. He imagined her fighting against an army of thousands, and wondered how many she could face before running out of stamina; a feat quite impossible for one person to achieve on Earth. This alone solidified the possibility that they were a player.
And now, with the prospect that a player was so nearby, and that his guildmates might have encountered the situation, Momonga's unease grew exponentially. There was no way to tell if she was hostile or not, and the fact that he had witnessed her remorselessly cut down a group of humans did nothing to soothe his nerves.
And then, like a wave, Momonga's anxiety vanished, his emotions slipping back into normalcy.
"Sebas, explain your reasoning. What made you reassess your position?"
The butler instantly bowed at the perceived reprimand.
"Please accept your servant's deepest apologies for the lapse in judgement, Momonga-sama. I am fully prepared to accept any punishment for my failure."
Flustered by the NPC's change in attitude, Momonga scrambled to calm his butler.
"Ah, no need for such formalities, Sebas. We all make mistakes; You are a loyal servant of Nazarick and continue to be. I am more interested in the reason why you changed your stance, what gave you pause?"
.
.
.
"You may stop bowing now, Sebas."
"Yes, Momonga-sama," he replied, straightening up again. "There were several things I noticed during the fight that caused me to reassess my position. Firstly, as you have already surmised, she is of Elven heritage; I am ashamed to not have recognised it earlier."
Eh, when did I say that?
"Although I am unable to identify the specific subrace she may belong to, I am sure Momonga-sama has already deduced as such. In any case, with an extended lifespan, compared to a human similar in strength, time has afforded her combat experience that sadly, I am lacking."
"However, simple experience is not enough to tip the scales so far in her favour, is it, Sebas?"
"Once again, it is as you say, Momonga-sama. There is something else which caught my attention as she fought: her mindset. Despite seemingly toying with her opponents, that was not the case."
"Hoh?"
"Indeed. The way she moved was precise and deliberate, where one might mistake her cruelty for simple fancy, I believe the opposite. She engaged her enemies in a calculated manner, aiming for necks, abdomens, and legs when it was the most efficient path for her weapon to take. She made no preference for where she struck. To me, it was clear that she was aware of her surroundings and her opponent's positions at all times."
"I see..."
Momonga was impressed by Sebas' observation. The ability to read a situation and respond appropriately to it was a skill possessed by only the best players. Especially now that he lacked a proper HUD, Momonga found that intuition something difficult to adjust to. He made a mental note to use [Detect Locate] more frequently from this point on.
So the question was, if she was such an experienced player, why weren't they level 100? Were they logged into a dummy account when they transferred?
Momonga pondered the information given to him. He hadn't seen any evidence of a guild tag or logo on her armour, but perhaps they didn't want to advertise themselves too much.
Gathering information about the outside world was vital to Nazarick's safety, and this was an opportunity sent from the heavens—An experienced, solo player with an under-levelled avatar. However, there was so much the Mirror of Remote Viewing could provide: dialogue could not be had, and the lack of sound was beginning to frustrate him.
Momonga weighed the risks endlessly.
If Sebas could change his assessment once, who's to say he wouldn't do so again? It wouldn't be worth sacrificing a denizen to find out. No, it would be better to err on the side of caution… wouldn't it?
After watching the elf in the mirror laze about for what seemed like an age, Momonga decided.
"Sebas, put Nazarick on maximum alert. Tell Albedo, who is standing by next door, to fully equip herself and come see me. I forbid her to bring Ginnungagap. After that, prepare support units. Something might happen which results in my inability to retreat. Therefore the units sent to the village should be adept at stealth or have the ability to go invisible."
"I understand, but I wish to request the task of defending your body to be given to me."
"Then who will relay my orders? There is no guarantee that this is a solo player, which means there might be others near Nazarick who might be inclined to attack. Therefore, you must stay."
"Then, I shall inform Albedo-sama immediately, Momonga-sama."
The butler bowed and left the room swiftly.
Momonga's attention returned to the elf, who was lazing about her planted scythe in the ground. The woman seemed to be waiting around for something. More enemies? Allies?
"..."
Hetromorphs were PK'ed on sight in Yggdrasil. There was no reason to think the same wouldn't happen here. The first impression he wanted to make on this player was supposed to be favourable. As a former salaryman, he understood how much smoother transactions are with happy clients.
Greeting them with the face of an Overlord was hardly the way to go about this.
He withdrew a full-face mask from his inventory. It was gaudily decorated, with its expression was hard to describe, being somewhere between crying and anger. The mask looked creepy, but it had no special powers. It was a simple cosmetic item which did not contain a trace of data. Known as the Mask of the Jealous, or the Jealous Mask, Momonga equipped it without hesitation.
Then, he took out a pair of gloves. Their rough exterior betrayed the fact that they were crudely made and had no special properties. Called Járngreipr and made by one of Ainz Ooal Gown's members for fun, their only ability was to increase the wearer's strength. He used these items to hide his skeletal appearance.
Finally, he withdrew the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown from his inventory.
With preparations on his end complete, Momonga waited for Albedo to arrive, passing the time by reciting imaginary conversations with the elf he was soon to meet.
Eventually, the door swung open and a person clad in a suit of full-body black plate armour stood before Momonga. It was covered in spikes and did not expose the slightest bit of flesh, with clawed gauntlets grasping a black kite shield in one hand and a bardiche that radiated a sickly green glow in the other. A blood-red cape hung behind her, while the doublet beneath was also the carmine of fresh blood.
"The preparations took some time. I apologize for my late arrival," Albedo's melodic voice spoke from beneath the horned helmet.
"Mm. No, it's not an issue. I assume Sebas told you everything?"
Albedo did not respond.
"I see, you didn't pay attention... Well, my intention is to gather information. An excellent opportunity has presented itself to gain a foothold in this new world. I wish to establish friendly ties, if possible, with that elf," Momonga pointed to the woman still framed in the mirror. "If we fail in that endeavour, capture and retrieval to Nazarick is the second most favourable option, followed by... Hm... Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that."
Beneath Albedo's helmet, a mixture of conflicting emotions crossed her face. In the end, she settled on nodding once.
"Understood, Momonga-sama."
"Mm, well then."
Momonga incanted the spell.
"[Gate]"