The Great Tomb of Nazarick was a fortress of unimaginable power, a testament to the combined efforts of the greatest players in Yggdrasil. Its halls hummed with latent energy, each corner alive with the presence of servants and guardians ready to act at a moment's notice. Yet, deep within its forgotten depths, a force moved unseen, unfelt, and unbound by Nazarick's hierarchies.
Valtherion stood within his chamber, the air around him thick with a presence that seemed to stretch beyond the confines of the room. His black suit, immaculate and tailored to perfection, seemed to drink in the dim light, while the glowing purple star on his back pulsed rhythmically, casting eerie shadows across the walls.
Before him, a small orb floated, swirling with scenes from both the surface world and the depths of Nazarick. The orb flickered, displaying Ainz's recent triumph in the village, the fear etched on the knights' faces, and the villagers' whispered prayers of thanks. Valtherion chuckled softly, a sound that carried both amusement and disdain.
"Heroics," he murmured, his voice smooth as silk yet heavy with disdain. "How quaint. But even the brightest stars eventually burn out."
Raising a hand, he let the purple star on his back surge with light, and the orb responded, stabilizing and showing a new scene. This time, it was not a distant memory or an event unfolding on the surface. It was here, within Nazarick itself.
A group of Pleiades combat maids, led by Narberal Gamma, moved cautiously through one of the lower levels of the tomb. They had been tasked with routine inspections, but their demeanor betrayed a sense of unease. Narberal's sharp eyes scanned the shadows, her hand resting on the hilt of her blade.
"Something feels… off," she said, her voice clipped and professional, but laced with an edge of apprehension.
The orb in Valtherion's chamber flickered, showing their movements from multiple angles. He observed them like a predator stalking prey, his expression calm but his eyes betraying a spark of mischief.
"They sense it," he mused. "The faintest echo of my presence. How delightful."
With a flick of his wrist, the scene shifted again. This time, the orb displayed a lone maid who had strayed from the group, her steps hesitant as she peered into the darkness of a corridor. Valtherion tilted his head, a sly smile playing on his lips.
"Let's see how far they've come," he said, stepping forward.
The air in the corridor where the maid stood began to change, growing colder with each passing moment. The torches lining the walls flickered violently, their flames shrinking as if choked by an invisible force. The maid froze, her instincts screaming at her to retreat, but her training kept her rooted in place.
"Who's there?" she called out, her voice steady but betraying the slightest tremor.
A figure emerged from the shadows, not fully visible but outlined by a faint, otherworldly glow. Valtherion's presence was overwhelming, a suffocating weight that pressed down on the maid's chest, making it hard to breathe. She gripped her weapon tightly, her knuckles turning white.
"You shouldn't be here," Valtherion said, his voice soft but carrying an undeniable authority.
The maid raised her blade, her body tensing as she prepared for an attack. But before she could make a move, Valtherion raised a single hand, and the world around her seemed to shatter.
The corridor dissolved into an endless expanse of stars, each one pulsing with its own rhythm. The maid found herself floating, her body weightless and her senses overwhelmed. Voices whispered in her ears, speaking in languages she couldn't understand but somehow felt deeply connected to.
"Tell me," Valtherion's voice echoed, now layered with a thousand tones, each one resonating with power. "What does loyalty mean to you? Is it blind devotion, or is it something more?"
The maid struggled to respond, her lips moving but no sound escaping. The purple star on Valtherion's back flared, and suddenly the whispers coalesced into a single, deafening roar. Images flashed before the maid's eyes: her creation, her purpose, her loyalty to Ainz, and her fleeting moments of doubt.
When the vision ended, she collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. The corridor had returned to normal, and Valtherion stood before her, his expression unreadable.
"You are devoted," he said, almost to himself. "But devotion without understanding is a fragile thing. Remember that."
With a wave of his hand, the maid was lifted to her feet, her body steady though her mind still reeled from the experience. Valtherion stepped back into the shadows, his form dissolving into the darkness as if he had never been there.
When the other maids arrived moments later, they found their comrade pale but unharmed. She said nothing of what had transpired, her mind racing to comprehend the encounter.
Far below, in his chamber, Valtherion returned to his orb. He waved a hand over its surface, and the image shifted to show Ainz in his throne room, addressing the Floor Guardians.
"Their loyalty to you is admirable, Ainz," Valtherion murmured, his voice tinged with something akin to respect. "But even the strongest foundations can crumble when tested."
The purple star on his back flared one final time before dimming, leaving the room in silence.
The game had truly begun.