27-8-801
Pina collapsed onto the lavishly decorated bed, her limbs sprawling across the satin sheets like a discarded doll. Even the fine fabric couldn't soften the exhaustion that seemed to seep from her very bones. The room, meant to be opulent and welcoming, felt more like a gilded cage. Sunlight streamed through the arched windows, illuminating intricate tapestries that hung from the high walls, each one depicting mythical beasts and heroic deeds that felt impossibly distant from Pina's current reality.
She could hear Hamilton moving about the room, her footsteps muffled by the thick carpets. It felt wrong, having so much space around them, especially now, when the weight of the world seemed to press down on their chests, suffocating them. The ornately carved cupboard stood sentinel in the corner, its polished surface reflecting a distorted image of the room. Nearby, a silver dining set gleamed on a table meant for ten.
"Princess," Hamilton's voice was tight with concern, "are you alright?"
"I'm so tired," she whispered, her voice cracking. Even the effort of speaking felt monumental.
Hamilton moved to stand beside the window, her silhouette a dark outline against the blinding light that spilled through the glass. The statue of Ainz was visible from here, a colossal figure of marble and magic that dominated the skyline. It loomed over the city, a constant reminder of their own insignificance.
"Hamilton," Pina continued, her words heavy with despair, "we've learned, heard, and seen so much since those gates opened into our world. It's like...like looking into the face of a god."
"Hm," she murmured, her gaze fixed on the distant statue. "I still can't believe it's possible to make something so...vast."
"It makes everything we knew, everything we were, feel so small," Pina confessed, her voice barely a tremor in the cavernous room. "We're nothing but dust in front of them."
"Yes," Hamilton agreed, her voice barely audible. "Dust."
Pina pushed herself up onto her elbows, her brow furrowed with worry. The grandeur of the room pressed in on her, suffocating her with its opulence. "But how are we going to convince the Sorcerer Emperor? Just the thought of it..." She trailed off, clutching her head as if to ward off an oncoming migraine.
Hamilton turned from the window, her expression pained as she took in Pina's distress. She crossed the room and knelt beside the bed, her hand hovering over Pina's but not quite touching. The weight of their situation, the impossible task before them.
Scene change:
Akbar is a US agent. He is sharing a room with Itami. He is sitting in the chair. Akbar sunk deeper into the plush armchair, biting into the crisp apple he'd snagged from the bowl on the dining table. Across the room, Itami was rummaging through the wardrobe, his back to Akbar.
"Mister Itami," Akbar began, "you've been in those Special Regions for a long time, haven't you?"
"Ah, yes," Itami replied, his voice muffled by the hanging clothes.
"Can you tell me something about them?" Akbar pressed, curiosity piqued. He'd heard whispers, rumors of strange creatures and even stranger technology coming from those places.
"Of course," Itami emerged from the wardrobe, a bemused smile on his face. "What do you want to know?"
"Anything," Akbar shrugged, leaning forward in his chair. "Anything at all."
Itami chuckled. "Well, we haven't been able to search the whole Special Region yet. It's vast, you see. And the people…" He paused, searching for the right words. "They aren't quite as…modern as we are. Medieval, you might call it."
He held up a garment he'd pulled from the wardrobe—a tunic of some sort, far too large for his frame. "It's much bigger than me," he remarked, shaking his head in amusement.
Suddenly, a green light enveloped the tunic, bright and startling. When it faded, the garment had shrunk, now appearing to be Itami's size.
"What was it?" Akbar exclaimed, jumping to his feet.
"What? It's now my size!" Itami exclaimed, holding up the perfectly fitted tunic.
"Mr. Itami, what was that light?" Akbar pressed, his eyes wide with disbelief.
Itami stared at the tunic in his hands, then back at the wardrobe. "Huh," he breathed. "I think…I think it's some kind of magic."
Akbar's jaw dropped. "They have so much advanced technology, and they can use magic too?"
"Yes," Itami confirmed, a hint of awe in his voice. "I've seen their magic."
Akbar sank back into his chair, completely bewildered. "Interesting," he muttered, shaking his head. "It's a fantasy world over there…"
.....
Few hours later
Itami gaze darting around the bustling street. He tried to convince himself it was just nerves. Orcs with tusks longer than his arm swaggered past, deep voices booming in laughter. A hulking lizardman, scales glinting in the sunlight, carrying a basket overflowing with what looked suspiciously like eyeballs. Itami had only ever seen these creatures in books, anime, movies, manga…now, they were as real as the sweat beading on his brow.
"Well, where are we going now?" he asked, trying to sound more confident than he felt.
"I want that cloth!" Tuka suddenly chirped, pointing excitedly towards a clothing store. In the window, a mannequin sported a vibrant green archer's outfit, clearly designed for an elf.
"Oh, an elf's clothes," Rory chuckled, her crimson eyes twinkling with amusement. "Very stylish."
"But we have no money in this world," Itami pointed out, feeling a familiar pang of anxiety. They were guests here, reliant on the hospitality of the Sorcerer King…and apparently, his very efficient population control measures, judging by the lack of crowds.
"Don't worry, Mister Itami," Thale, their guide, reassured him with a kind smile. "All your expenses will be borne by Us."
"Then we can shop as we wish, Miss Thale?" Tuka asked, her eyes wide with hope.
"Yes," Thale confirmed, her smile widening.
The clothing store was cool and airy, filled with racks of clothing in every style imaginable—from simple tunics to extravagant gowns, and armor that looked more ceremonial than practical. A gleaming automaton, shaped like a woman with flowing hair and a serene smile, greeted them as they entered.
"How can I help you?" her voice was surprisingly lifelike.
"We want to buy that elf archer cloth," Tuka announced, practically bouncing on her heels.
"Of course," the automaton gestured gracefully towards a changing room. "Can I interest you in trying it on? The changing rooms are this way."
"Thanks!" Tuka scampered off, eager to try on her new attire.
She emerged a few minutes later, practically glowing with excitement. The green sleeveless corset fit her perfectly, accentuating her youthful figure. The white pants and knee-high boots gave her an air of agility, while a pair of uneven black gloves added a touch of roguish charm.
"You look so cool, Tuka!" Lelei exclaimed, her usual stoicism momentarily forgotten.
"Really?" Tuka beamed, striking a pose.
"How much is this cloth?" Thale inquired, turning to the automaton.
"Only five silver coins," the automaton replied smoothly.
"Okay." Thale fished a few coins from her purse and handed them over.
"Thank you so much! Come again!" the automaton chirped as they exited the store.
Back on the street, Itami took a deep breath, trying to ignore the stares of a passing goblin family. "Where to next?"
"We need to go to a magic-related store," Lelei declared, her eyes gleaming with intellectual curiosity.
"I think so too," Rory agreed, hefting her halberd playfully. "I could use a new charm."
"Okay then," Thale agreed. She glanced around the street. This particular area seemed to be designated for pedestrians, as there wasn't a single vehicle in sight. "Come, stand by me."
She unfurled a scroll from her storage, ancient symbols glowing with an ethereal light.
"Mass Teleportation!"
_________★
...
With a dizzying lurch, Itami found himself standing in front of a shop unlike any he'd ever seen before. Glowing orbs floated in the windows, casting strange shadows on the street, and symbols he couldn't decipher adorned the sign above the door. He blinked, trying to regain his equilibrium.
"Miss Thale," he began, turning to their guide, "does anyone in your world use teleportation to get anywhere?"
Thale chuckled. "Not usually, no. Teleportation magic is generally reserved for emergencies, or perhaps if someone is running very late. Teleportation scrolls are quite expensive, you see. Besides," she added with a wink, "traveling can be quite enjoyable!"
"I see…" Itami wasn't sure he'd ever find teleporting casually enjoyable, but he appreciated her point.
"Come," Lelei said, her eyes already sparkling with curiosity, "let's get inside the store."
The interior of Hoburns's famous magic shop was even more astonishing than the exterior. Shelves overflowed with strange artifacts, alchemical ingredients bubbled in glass vials, and enchanted weapons gleamed under the soft light of magically-sustained lanterns. It was overwhelming, to say the least.
As Itami gawked at a display of floating skulls that whispered cryptic phrases, a figure approached them. It was a demon—tall and imposing, with leathery wings folded neatly behind its back and glowing red eyes that seemed to pierce through Itami's soul.
"Welcome to the Hoburns's famous magic shop!" the demon boomed, his voice surprisingly friendly. "What do you need?"
Rory, however, didn't share Itami's initial fear. Instead, she reacted with a snarl, her grip tightening on her halberd. "Hardy sent you here to take me?"
"Miss Rory, calm down," Thale interjected, placing a reassuring hand on the apostle's arm. "He's a shopkeeper, remember? You're in the Nazar now, safe and sound."
Rory blinked, her aggressive stance easing slightly. "Oh, right," she mumbled, her cheeks flushing a faint shade of red. "Sorry about that. I thought…well, Hardy's always trying to drag me back to the Abyss."
"Don't be afraid, Miss," the demon shopkeeper reassured her, a hint of amusement in his fiery eyes. "No one will hurt you here."
"My apologies," Thale added, turning back to the shopkeeper. "They are from another world, you see. Still getting used to things."
The demon's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "From another world, you say? Then they must have come from…the other side of the Gate?"
"That's right," Thale confirmed. "They are guests of our Lord Ainz Ooal Gown."
The demon shopkeeper seemed to consider this for a moment, then broke into a wide, fanged grin. "Well then, in that case…" he clapped his hands together once, sharply. "Let's give them the VIP treatment! Imps!"
Four tiny imps, each no bigger than a housecat, materialized in a puff of smoke. They bowed low, their mischievous grins belying their eagerness to please.
"Help our guests choose their items," the demon instructed. "And make sure they have everything they need."
"We understand, Master!" the imps chirped in unison, before scampering off to attend to their new customers.
Itami stared after them, speechless. This whole experience was surreal, to say the least. But at least the imps seemed friendly…he hoped.