30 Signs of a Storm 3

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A short while later, the trio was joined by the guild members who could make it on this day on the 9th Floor, in the Round Table room. In total, there were only seventeen members present.

Sparse chatter filtered through the air within the Conference Room, and despite the apparent normalcy of the gathering, Shirou could easily detect the underlying melancholy that hung over them all. The previous guild meeting had twenty in attendance, and the one before that had only nineteen members. The number of guild members in attendance for these routine meetings fluctuated often, but recently, their numbers had been steadily dwindling over the course of weeks and months.

A fact that could no longer be denied.

Exactly as he foretold.

Each guild member nevertheless did their part, ignoring the disheartening reality and continuing on regardless of their situation. This only made every meeting that each guild member could attend all the more appreciative and meaningful. A sentiment carried by every one of them.

"All right, I guess we can start now that everyone is here." Said Touch Me, taking on the role of spokesperson as they began.

"Shouldn't we wait a bit more for Momonga-san?" Coup de Grâce spoke up, glancing around for their undead leader. "Strange. He's never been this late to a meeting before."

"I'm afraid Momonga-san isn't going to make it today. He told me he had a project that his workplace dumped on him, so he's been offline for the remainder of this week." Shirou answered in his best friend's stead.

"Oh..." Coup de Grâce softly let out, slouching in his chair.

The magus could only offer a condolent smile. He understood his friend's despondency. Among all of them, their Guildmaster could always be relied on to be online on a regular basis. Not counting Shirou, of course. Coup de Grâce had missed the previous gatherings, and with this, it marked the fourth week since the two last saw one another.

"S-sorry, continue Touch Me-san."

Touch Me shook his head. "It's alright, Coup de Grâce-san. There is no need to apologize for something like this. Don't worry, there's always next time." He encouraged.

The meeting began as usual with no further interruption. Each guild member had a turn to share any updates, news, or announcements, while others occasionally chimed in with idle banter passing between friends. It wasn't long before Shirou's turn arrived, and as usual, he would be the one breaking the interesting news.

"Damn, you had quite the night, eh Emiya-san?" Warrior Takemikazuchi whistled. "If only I was there with ya'. That would've been a blast!"

"But they didn't make it to the 2nd Floor, correct?" Punitto Moe spoke up, turning to the lone Humanoid Player.

"They did not. One of the parties almost got close, however, I managed to reroute them."

"But the fact that one almost got close to reaching it is enough. This is the first time any invading group has ever managed to get this close to making it past the 1st Floor." The Death Vine insisted.

"Does it really matter? I mean, they failed like all the others." Ankoro Mocchi Mochi stated rather lackadaisically, shrugging. She had been out of the loop for a few months now, appearing on and off at random times. As such, she didn't see what was wrong.

Some Players tried their hand at attacking Nazarick. The invaders failed on the 1st Floor. And Nazarick remained standing. To her, everything was as it always was.

"Don't tell me you're getting worked up because of Nazarick's reputation, Punitto Moe-san." She said.

"I believe what Punitto Moe-san is trying to get at is that it's not so much the perceived invincibility of Nazarick that's important here, but rather the fact that this is the first time a group of Players almost made it to the 2nd Floor when we've repelled raids with far greater numbers than this one." Answered Bellriver, elaborating on his friend's concern as two of his four arms crossed over his wide chest.

"The frequency at which these attempts are being made, they have a pattern to them. This "raid" marks the sixth one yet."

"Seventh, actually." Shirou corrected.

"Right, seventh. Thank you." Bellriver nodded.

"Seven raids, and we're only halfway through the month. It's only going to increase at this rate. Last month saw around ten attempts on Nazarick. And the month before that one, another nine attempted their hand at tackling Nazarick. They failed, yes, but they all possessed the same modus operandi: small and speedy parties seeking to traverse the 1st Floor rather than fight it out. Honestly, I'm surprised that no one has managed to luck out and reach the 2nd Floor yet after all these years. However, our luck won't last forever. Nazarick, while strong, is not invincible. Contrary to what people may complain and whine about on the YGGDRASIL forums. A sizable force could potentially reach the latter Floors depending on their size and strength. And the thing is, it's not impossible to see that happening in the potential future."

Following Bellriver's rather grim assertion, the conference room gave way to discussion regarding the potential threat possessed against not only Nazarick but all of Ainz Ooal Gown.

"There are three questions we must ask." Shirou held up three fingers, drawing everyone's attention. "Motive, means, and opportunity. These three components comprise every action. We identify them, and we can narrow down our suspects."

"Well, we ain't got to bust our brains on the motive part. We've been attacked for god knows how many reasons. There's no limit to who we haven't slighted or angered over the years as Ainz Ooal Gown. A better question would be who we haven't pissed off after all these years." Said Warrior Takemikazuchi, leaning back in his chair.

"I agree. The motive in this situation is insignificant, as the question poised should be: who is willing to go about this in such a manner? Regarding what Emiya-san said about means, we can see a clear method. Seeker and information guilds cost an arm and a leg to hire for their services, doubly so if their target is one of the top ten guilds in all of YGGDRASIL. These proxy raids on Nazarick reek of meticulous planning with the funds and know-how to keep the operation discrete even after all this time. That leaves several concerning alternatives. I would surmise that either one or two of the other top ten guilds are working together, or a group comprised of high to medium-ranked guilds just below the top ten has partnered up. My bet? The worst-case and most likely scenario is an alliance composed of both guilds within the top ten and below. And as for the numbers? We can only guess." Punitto Moe proposed, laying out the possibilities in a grave voice and earning a few concerned glances from the guild members.

"There's no end to the number of guilds, competitors, organizations, or Players who'll jump at the opportunity to see us defeated and broken. If so, this is only the prelude to what lies ahead. Considering we've repelled raids in the hundreds before, I'm inclined to believe Punitto Moe-san's hypothesis. However, all of this only speaks volumes to the masterminds that are orchestrating this." Touch Me provided, fingers steepling and contemplative.

"With something as elaborate and presumably grand in size as sieging Nazarick, we should've learned or heard something by now. Anything that would indicate a hint at such an operation. A call to arms, a rallying cry, a recruitment campaign, something, anything. Instead, there has been nothing but silence—not even a peep. These incursions will only continue. We can only speculate on what's to come next…"

Many grimaced, following along with the World Champion's line of thought.

The fact that they've heard not so much as a whisper, not even from their regular detractors on the YGGDRASIL forums, showed that whoever was running the operation was running a very tight ship. They weren't going to take any chances with any leaks, no matter how small or insignificant they were. This spoke volumes about their undoubtedly meticulous and expert handling of the operation. One far greater than any they've fought or encountered in the past.

They intend to keep themselves hidden until the time was ripe to plunge the dagger into Ainz Ooal Gown's back.

"Well, I say bring it! I've been itching for a good fight. A guild war sounds right up my alley!" Warrior Takemikazuchi rallied, slamming his forearm against the table and leaning in.

"Please don't say that, Warrior Takemikazuchi-san. You'll end up jinxing us!" Nubo pleaded.

"Now we arrive at perhaps the most fundamental question, opportunity. When will they strike us?" Said Shirou, holding up a singular finger.

The mood quickly grew hushed and sullen. It wasn't difficult for everyone to come to their own thoughts and conclusions regarding the matter. Especially with the guild's current predicament.

At their peak, Ainz Ooal Gown was a force to be reckoned with, and all thought twice about crossing them.

However, those days were quietly behind them.

Player participation and guild log-ins have waned over the past few months as life has moved on. The fact of the matter was that Ainz Ooal Gown wasn't as active as they were in the past.

The more astute Players and factions would take notice of their reduced presence within the overworld. It wouldn't be hard to conjure up a conjecture or two regarding why that might be. Especially since Ainz Ooal Gown's relatively small member count wasn't exactly a secret.

After all, what better time than to make a move against the guild when they were operating at only a fraction of their full strength?

"These scouting raids have been going on for quite some time now. For all we know, whoever is behind this might be ready to launch the real thing soon. Or if not, then they're going to bide their time, launching more and more expeditionary forces and parties at us to further learn as much as they can, all the while waiting for our numbers to drop while bolstering their numbers. Who knows how long they're willing to play the long con for, weeks, months, even years? With our current situation, just how many of us will be still online on the regular to meet them if they do decide to attack us? We have the advantage that the 2nd Floor and below have never been breached and will be unknown to the intruders, but it's foolish to put all our hopes in believing it'll be enough to stop them in the case of the invading force being far greater than we could possibly imagine. That's not to mention whoever is backing this campaign, their total Player numbers, their individual skill level, item count and advantage, or even the potential usage of World Items. Furthermore..."

Punitto Moe's words quickly devolved into rambling mumbles as his mind raced, going over all the potential logistics of it all. One of his vines tapped incessantly against the table as he jabbered on. The guild's chief strategist's anxiousness was on full display, and it carried over to the others as well. The direness hung over the air forebodingly, the mood of the room dipping further.

None dared raise their voice in solid objection.

His fear was understandable and one they all shared deep within. For while every single member was proud and confident of Nazarick and what it represented, none could deny the danger poised against it.

The Great Tomb of Nazarick, while one of the largest guild bases in all of YGGDRASIL, wasn't without its flaws. Much of Nazarick was designed to cater to their love and interest in what the guild thought would be "cool".

A combination of fun and functionality.

They made it work, most certainly, but when compared to other guild bases of the same tier and size as Nazarick, there were areas where they fell short.

"I think you might be a little too paranoid there, Punitto Moe-san. You're selling us way too short." Luc*Fer expressed.

"For starters, each one of the Floors within Nazarick is massive in size and scale, easily spanning hundreds of meters in distance. For any first-time attacker, it'll be a labyrinthine mess. It is no wonder why anyone's barely been able to get past the 1st Floor. Floors one through eight are chock-full of well-placed traps, a stockpile of NPCs, and even the Floor Guardians to boot. Even if they can somehow make it past the first three Floors, which were designed to bleed any invading forces, there's still the 4th, 6th, and, of course, the 8th Floor to fall back on. With the first two being well fortified and easily defendable – they are kill boxes for anyone stupid enough that dares to try. Then there's the 8th Floor; enough said there. The remaining invaders would have to get through Rubedo along with all the other overpowered NPCs we keep stocked on the 8th Floor, including the dead zone trap with Victim that we placed just before the entrance to the 9th Floor. And if, by some miracle, they managed to survive that, we still have the 9th and 10th Floors to think about in addition to all of our contingency plans. Need I go on?"

The fallen angel listed off, his tone almost patronizing.

"That's not to mention our contributions as Players. We also cannot ignore the cache of weapons, items, and consumables we've hoarded in the Treasury. And let's not forget that we've got plenty of World Items safeguarded in our vault, just waiting to be busted out. When it comes down to it, we won't lose so easily. If all else fails, we can also throw Emiya-san at them and let him do all the work. It seems to be working out fine for us already." Luci*fer said, chuckling at his joke in an attempt to rouse some good cheer. When he noticed his guildmates' stony, grim faces and the silence, the meager laughter quickly died.

"You're not wrong." Punitto Moe agreed to an extent.

"However..."

As soon as the Death Vine's tone was heard, Luci*Fer's mouth clicked shut before he could say anything. Punitto Moe didn't yell or raise his voice, but the sheer seriousness in his tone was enough to make the normally sarcastic fallen angel shut his mouth and listen.

"We would be the greatest of fools to accept that we're untouchable. Ask the Sol Imperial if they thought themselves truly invincible and remember where they are now." Punitto Moe curtly replied, invoking a memory.

YGGDRASIL was a game full of uncertainties. Whether it was the Player classes and builds, specific skills and spells, or even World Items, nothing was set in stone. Nobody would dispute that the game's balance was horribly skewed at times, with blatant min-max and overpowered builds that were better than others. But if there was one thing that the shitty devs did right, it was balancing the game where there was a counter to everything. This allowed Players the freedom to experiment with unique builds and ideas while simultaneously preventing power creep and certain playstyles from dominating and ruining the game's meta.

Not one thing in YGGDRASIL was considered truly absolute. Everything was viable, and in that light, everything had a countermeasure; it was merely a matter of locating and exploiting it.

Guild bases were no exception, regardless of how well-fortified or grand in scale they may be.

Having participated in numerous guild wars, raids, and other similar events, Ainz Ooal Gown was well-versed in conducting attacks and raids against enemy bases and besieging cities. However, one of the greatest campaigns to date for the Heteromorphic guild was when they went against the original 6th-ranked guild – The Sol Imperial.

The Sol Imperial, a guild of great power and renown, boasted a guild base that was nothing short of awe-inspiring. It was known as "The Golden Throne of Solus", and its size rivaled that of Nazarick, and it was made up of several distinct areas. First, there was the massive walled fortress castle, an imposing structure that would have deterred even the bravest of attackers. Inside the fortress was a city of its own, a bustling metropolis that could have easily been mistaken for a small country. But the crown jewel of the guild's base was undoubtedly the grandiose sky castle that served as the guild's main headquarters. Given all of this, it was no wonder that the guild's base had earned the honorific moniker of "The Unassailable."

Since YGGDRASIL's release in year one, the guild has successfully repelled every attack and raid launched against it, a feat that even the other guilds that ranked above them could not boast about.

A title they held unchallenged for years and could've held onto until the end of their days, had they not gotten greedy and stepped on too many toes in their quest for power and fame.

Whenever things would get too dicey for the Sol Imperial, they would retreat inside their guild base and hunker. With the knowledge that they were untouchable, they would wait out the storm. Each and every time.

This continued for years, and over time, they became too confident, too content, and too boastful.

Animosity for them eventually boiled over to a fever pitch, and a call to arms was issued by the 4th ranked guild at the time, with numerous third parties and high-ranking guilds answering the call. Ainz Ooal Gown was among the many that joined in, they were ranked 7th at the time, alongside a guild by the name of The Conclave of Ra, the 8th ranked guild.

Nothing brings warring rivals and unlikely allies together more than a common, hated enemy.

Together, they formed an alliance, and working in unison, they initiated a Guild War with the Sol Imperial and laid siege to their capital to topple their unassailable reputation and end their regime.

The magus could still vividly recall the war effort that took place at the Golden Throne of Solus, as if it had happened yesterday. It seemed as though every inch of the base was designed with the explicit purpose of halting and repelling any invaders that dared come their way. The layout of the base featured chokepoints, dead ends, a myriad of booby traps, misleading paths, strategic placement of NPCs, elevated high grounds that overlooked vast open areas, tactical vantage points, and key weapon placement, among other defense mechanisms. The guild base was practically a death trap in all but name.

Despite the Sol Imperial boasting 400 Players under their banner, with the home-field advantage, possessing numerous powerful NPCs, having access to all the items they needed, and wielding their frankly overpowered Guild Weapon, it was the alliance that managed to achieve victory on that fateful day.

For they possess one thing that the guild didn't, and that was the numerical advantage.

In the realm of PvP and Player skirmishes, victory or defeat hinges on a myriad of factors such as skill, item, terrain, wit, and strategy. However, when it comes to a full-blown Guild War, these factors are amplified, and in the end, it was due to the alliance vastly outnumbering the guild—not just in terms of sheer quantity but also in terms of capability.

The alliance boasts a larger pool of skilled Players who can unleash their spells and abilities upon the enemy stronghold, far outnumbering what the guild can muster. They also had more mercenary NPCs at their disposal, making it easier for them to test out the guild's defenses and break any stalemates. Additionally, the coalition could outspend their opponents with their vast array of cash items. They had more mercenary NPCs they could've used as fodder to test out their defenses and break the stalemates. They even possessed more World Items, with the Sol Imperial only having three and using all of them while the coalition wielded a total of five during the Guild War.

Quantity and quality. If two opposing forces held roughly equal levels in terms of sheer quality, then it only stands to reason that the former would be a deciding factor.

In war, numbers alone didn't determine who won or lost, but they certainly did tip the balance in one's favor. The old adage remains true: there was strength in numbers. No matter the battlefield.

In the end, after nearly four hours of brutal fighting, the alliance prevailed. To achieve that valiant victory, it took a long, arduous war of attrition. The Sol Imperial was able to defeat more than three-quarters of their forces before they could seize victory.

They won, but the alliance wasn't satisfied with just a mere win.

No, they wanted more and went a step beyond, as the alliance captured not just the base and their respawn point but every single respawn point within the immediate area and continent. As soon as the guild members would respawn, they would be set upon and instantly PKed over and over again. This would continue until their level reached zero and their Player character was auto-deleted entirely, forcing every last one of them to start completely over from scratch. By day's end, The Sol Imperial, one of the oldest and most powerful guilds since the launch of YGGDRASIL, had been reduced to nothing more than dust in the wind.

A majority of the Players from the guild quit the game outright after that, unable to handle harassment.

Some would have called their action cruel and vicious, Shirou was certainly among that camp, but the rest didn't care.

It wasn't only about beating them; it was about sending a message.

The smoldering, scorched crater and ruin that was once home to the prestigious guild base served as a reminder to all, strong or weak, that nothing in YGGDRASIL was ever a guarantee.

Now, it seemed it was Ainz Ooal Gown's turn at the chopping block.

And it couldn't have come at a more inopportune time.

"In the event that Nazarick falls, we should begin thinking about a fallout strategy. Set up backup holds and safe houses. We should start by transferring the more crucial items first. The sooner, the better." Punitto Moe said, devising a fallback plan.

As each Player spoke and argued at once, the volume of the conversation increased, filling the conference room with noise. Despite the initial protest, there was no denying the underlying apprehension they all felt.

While it was all still speculative, none could deny the fact of the matter. When all the information was considered, it led to one foreboding conclusion.

A storm was brewing, and it was only growing larger.

Whoever it was that was behind this machination, they intend to end all of Ainz Ooal Gown in one fell swoop.

The mood of the conference room plummeted as the notion of an inevitable defeat awaiting them infested their thoughts. With every passing murmur and hushed conversation among the guild members, a malignant disease festers. With it carried a defeatist attitude that only lingered, spiraling further down by the minute into a more forgone conclusion.

Not even the typically optimistic Touch Me could offer any particular solace, remaining pensively silent. Warrior Takemikazuchi held a grim determination to him. The two warriors exchanged looks and nodded.

If they have met their match, then they'll go down swinging.

The vast majority of the guild members had all but conceded that their potential defeat was unavoidable and viewed the worst-case scenario as inevitable. Except for one who stayed firm.

"It won't." A voice interjected.

All eyes swiveled toward Shirou.

"Nazarick won't fall." He repeated it as if stating a fact.

"It won't fall easily; is what I believe what you mean, Emiya-san." The Death Vine replied. "And as it pains me to admit, Nazarick is far from infallible. We need to look at this realistically and start planning ahead of time." He stressed, his lips twitching into the barest form of a frown.

"I don't disagree, Punitto Moe-san. No guild base, no matter how elaborate or intricate, is invincible. But I say again, Nazarick won't fall. I'll make sure of it." Shirou vowed.

"Emiya-san..." Punitto Moe drawled in an all-too-familiar, vexed voice. Behind his avatar, his brows twitched with a hint of annoyance at the stubbornness being displayed by his friend.

"I don't know what's gotten into you, Emiya-san, but please stop it. I understand you might be upset at such a thought, but we need to be smart about this. We need to prepare for when Nazarick falls."

"Don't you mean, if, Moe-san?"

"Ugh! Not this again..."

"I don't disagree with your idea of having contingency plans, Moe-san. I know you're our key strategist, but that doesn't mean you should be outright pessimistic about our chances."

"It's not pessimism if you're being realistic, which I am! And speaking of that, it's not like you to be this stubbornly naïve, Emiya-san! As you said, I'm the guild's strategist. It's my job to consider the alternatives, and I'm saying there's a chance Nazarick will fall, and we need to accept that fact!"

The others kept quiet as Punitto Moe and Shirou engaged in a back-and-forth argument. An argument that was slowly heating up as the guild's chief of strategy grew more and more incensed at the Hand of the guild's calm persistence. Touch Me and a few others tried intervening, but to little avail as the two Players were locked in a war of words.

"If we believe we don't stand a chance, then we've already lost. We know their forces would no doubt be strong enough to invade Nazarick, but we can't say for certain if the enemy can successfully raid Nazarick or not."

"Exactly, we don't know! Who are they? What are their exact numbers, forces, capabilities, skill level, item advantage, or even World Items? We're completely in the dark here! There are too many factors to consider here, and we've got little to work with. Even if we shore up our defenses and prepare beforehand the best we can, there's no guarantee that it'll be enough! If there's even a 1% chance of failure, we must take that as an absolute certainty! For all we know, they might already have the numbers and power necessary to raid Nazarick and see it burned to the ground. They're just not choosing to act on it yet!"

"Maybe, but believing we've already lost before the fighting has even begun does us nothing. We can plan and postulate all we want, but what matters is that when the time comes, we'll beat them back and protect Nazarick. Just as we've always done before." The Fake Player declared.

"That is nothing more than foolish idealistic naiveté! Have you listened to a single word I've said?!" The Death Vine argued back, his voice rising.

"I have, and I do understand, Punitto Moe-san. More than you know." Shirou answered in a soft and understanding voice. "However, that doesn't mean I'll accept it so easily. I refuse to. In the end, all we need to do is stop them. Prevent them from reaching the inner Floors and keep them away from the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown. If we do that, we win."

"Easier said than done. But again, may I reiterate that we still have no idea if we can stop them or not!? You keep on saying we'll beat them back, but that's it! How can you confidently say that we'll win when we don't have a single fucking idea who or what we're going up against?! Answer me that!" Punitto Moe all but shouted, frustration boiling over. A grassy fist slammed against the table, the number zero flashing briefly. The others felt it rattle slightly.

The room was engulfed in a taut, dead silence. Following the Death Vine's explosive argument, many of the guild members glanced back and forth between the two, and many more awkwardly fidgeted in their seats. Arguments and heated discussions were fairly common for even a tight-knit guild such as Ainz Ooal Gown. However, the quarrel between the two of them went beyond heated and into polarizing.

Two opposing views clashed in full display, with many present worried that the disagreement might spark and escalate into something far more worrisome and destructive. The last thing the guild needed was a schism.

Much of the discourse lies in Shirou's and Punitto Moe's conflicting mindsets.

Punitto Moe's professionalism ascribed to Sun Tzu's maxim of "the battle is concluded before it even started,". The Death Vine has always been a very meticulous Player, always cautious and calculating. He valued research, facts, and logic over much else. At times, he came off as headstrong and a stickler for strategy and tactics whenever they went out PKing or adventuring.

Numerous achievements were credited to him, but he wasn't without fault. His Achilles' heel lies in the very adage he upholds. He was cautious by nature—occasionally excessively so. He would frequently fall down a slippery slope, quickly passing judgment right away and accepting the outcome as inevitable if the circumstances and the information—theoretical or actual—were unfavorable or completely against them.

Ironic, how someone like Punitto Moe, who prides himself on being scrupulous and conventional, has a history of impulsive and hasty decision-making for outcomes that were later proven to be incorrect.

Shirou, on the other hand, embodied the tenacious proverb "It is not over until it's over" in his ever-resilient way. A noble sentiment on paper, but rarely was reality ever fair or kind. However, that never stopped him from fighting to the bitter end, no matter the hurdles. They've beaten the odds before, but they've lost plenty of times as well.

Both weren't wrong in their stances, but neither were they wholly in the right either.

However, the general consensus among the guild sided with Punitto Moe. They knew Shirou could be stubborn as a mule at times, but this was a definite first. Hearing the chief of war for Ainz Ooal Gown parrot the same response without providing much evidence did little to soothe their concerns.

It was almost as if he was in utter denial of the idea of Ainz Ooal Gown and Nazarick falling. Which prompted some concern from his guildmates.

All eyes were silently focused on the lone Humanoid Player, awaiting his response. Some even held out hope that he'd provide a miraculous solution to this dilemma.

"You're right. I don't." Shirou admitted it calmly and easily. Something that took much of the wind out of Punitto Moe's sail, catching him and the rest off guard by his admission.

"In a Guild War or raid, there are only two paths. Victory or defeat. Either we win and Nazarick and Ainz Ooal Gown as a whole remains, or we lose and everything we've built up will crumble away forever. Between those two, can we really call it a choice?"

Shirou's eyes turned, sweeping over each of them as he did so. None offered a reply, with a few unable to meet his gaze, almost ashamed of themselves for being caught up in the moment and accepting their potential defeat all but lying down.

His fingers came together, squeezing at the thought. The silver-haired Player's gaze soon turned and found itself transfixed to the floating staff. The Guild Weapon of The Great Tomb of Nazarick, the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown.

The rest of his guildmates followed suit, their gaze landing on the golden staff, and for a moment, silence reigned over the Round Table.

While frequently grand in scale and spectacle, Guild Wars and raids on guild bases generally followed a straightforward procedure. It boils down to a singular objective on both sides. The attackers seek to invade the base and destroy the Guild Weapon while the defender thwarts the attackers' attempts. Whether or not the Guild Weapon was destroyed determines victory or defeat. Everything in between was merely a formality to reach the objective.

The countless raids and attacks they've repelled over the years had the same goal – reach Nazarick's lower depths and destroy the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown. And much like with everything else in YGGDRASIL, a defeat meant incurring a harsh punishment. The destruction of the Guild Weapon would result in the effective and immediate disbanding of the guild and the dissolution of the Great Tomb of Nazarick.

This unrealized attempt on Nazarick would be no different from those in the past. Only this time, their enemy no doubt intends to finish the job for good.

To allow both of them to die on his watch...

The thought of that happening was utterly inexcusable in Shirou's mind.

"You say we can't win, Punitto Moe-san, but I say that we can't afford to lose."

There was more to Ainz Ooal Gown than just a name or a title. It was a banner, a belief. They were, but ordinary men and women, but together, they carved out their destiny. They cemented their names in the annals of history within this digital domain.

The Great Tomb of Nazarick was so many things. A reminder, a testament to Ainz Ooal Gown's first true endeavors and accomplishments. A monument to all their achievements, their glory, and their dreams.

But to them and to Shirou, it was simply home.

They dedicated everything to Nazarick.

They invested hundreds of hours of lives—hours that they will never get back—tens of hundreds to hundreds of thousands of yen from their livelihood, untold grinding, and innumerable blood, toil, sweat, and tears. They poured their very beings into Nazarick, and it showed.

They, who were unsatisfied with the real world, carved out a place by them for them. With nothing but their own hands and minds, they turn their aspirations and imaginations into reality. They made the impossible possible.

The Great Tomb of Nazarick was home to Ainz Ooal Gown, a fact, just as the sky was vast, or the ocean was blue.

The Great Tomb of Nazarick was a shrine to all of Ainz Ooal Gown, of all that came before and what would come after. The culmination of their digital lives. A masterpiece to all their halcyon days, forever standing the test of time, even after all the members move on and when only he'll remain.

A notion that was slowly becoming a reality, sooner rather than later.

Already, two members have stopped playing YGGDRASIL outright, expressing their deepest regret that they simply didn't have the time to play anymore. They would be the first of many.

Deep within the Treasury lies a hallway, a chamber known as the Innermost Sanctum. With the prospect of the guild members retiring for good, Momonga came up with the idea of building a special sanctum – a mausoleum. It was a novel idea and one that he pitched in to make with his friend.

Within the mausoleum, they housed the relinquished items and equipment of the members that had quit. They were stored and kept safe, with great golden stone statues known as Avatara equipped with those items in their Player avatar's likeness as an honor to the members of Ainz Ooal Gown that have moved on.

The items would be ready to be pulled out and returned to them should they ever decide to come back, however unlikely that was.

Only two Avatara decorated the mausoleum hallway, a number that'll no doubt rise in the coming months and years.

To add further insult to injury, when a Guild Weapon was destroyed, not only was the guild automatically disbanded and their guild base deleted, but the members of the guild were also given a title that would hang over their heads for everyone to see.

'[Symbol of Failure]'

It would be emblazoned above every single guild member's avatar for all to bear witness and judge. A badge of shame.

The process to get rid of the [Symbol of Failure] was relatively easy and forgiving by YGGDRASIL standards. The guild members must remake and rejoin the guild under the same name for it to go away. Every single previous member.

The biggest caveat was that, if even one singular member doesn't rejoin or quit outright, then the [Symbol of Failure] will remain forever.

In the absolute worst-case scenario, Nazarick's defense would be breached, their innermost sanctum trampled on, and their Guild Weapon seized and destroyed. Ainz Ooal Gown would be terminated, their members scattered across the four winds. Their home but ruination.

Although the dissolution of Ainz Ooal Gown and Nazarick would be beyond soul-crushing for each and every one of them, it wasn't the end of the world in the strictest sense. It would be, in the extremist and looses terms of the word, an acceptable loss. After all, at the end of the day, it was a game – a game that consumed their free time and gave them so many wonderful memories, but a game nonetheless. Everyone had lives outside of YGGDRASIL with greater responsibilities. They can recover, bounce back, and move forward given enough time. And while some will have no doubt moved on from the game, it wouldn't be strictly impossible to gather everyone back together through the emergency messaging system they had set up. With a guild as tight-knitted as Ainz Ooal Gowl, it was more a matter of organization and scheduling than anything else.

But none of that mattered to Shirou, for even if they did get back together, the magus wasn't sure if he could stomach the shame or look any one of his cherished friends in the eye for allowing it to transpire in the first place.

Yes, their name could be reforged, but what of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, the culmuation of all their works? What of the countless bundles of lives, the NPCs that they dedicated and poured their hearts into who also call Nazarick home? They would be lost forever.

The [Symbol of Failure] would be naught but salt upon an everlasting grievous wound, for it served as an irrefutable fact that Shirou failed to protect Nazarick in the first place. He would fail them.

No matter the justification or odds against him.

When all was said and done, it would only be he who'd remain when all of Ainz Ooal Gown moved on. His final obligation to them, his friends, was a silent vigil over Nazarick. When the sun finally sets on this digital world, he, the dutiful sentinel, will be the one to witness how it all turns out.

Should total defeat ever come to pass, then the final moments of both Ainz Ooal Gown and Nazarick will not be of glory and remembrance but instead, of failure and despair.

Their legacy would be forever sullied, left to only memories remaining, fragmented and distant. Nothing more than a bygone era.

He couldn't – he won't – allow such a fate to come to pass.

Shirou had failed innumerable times over his long, long life. Defeat was a taste he'd known since he was born. The lone survivor, who failed at saving those who pleaded and cursed him in equal amounts. Back then, it had tasted like ashes, making every breath a reminder of his guilt. Yet, what followed was worse.

He found purpose in Kiritsugu, but it was a monkey paw, driving him to his destruction.

He found love in Rin. That arrogant yet reliable woman, who'd pulled him from his delusion, and made it clear that he deserved to be happy.

And... he found a dream in Saber. His better half, forced apart by fate and Alaya alike. Forever destined to search for her endlessly, as she waited for eternity.

He had it all, and he'd failed them all—countless people, friends, loved ones, his duty and ideals, even himself.

Shirou will not add Ainz Ooal Gown and Nazarick to that long list.

An unbridled fury flooded him, one very uncharacteristic for someone of Shirou's rapport, an emotion that one could count on two hands alone the number of times he has truly felt such a way, simmering underneath the surface. One that threatened to engulf him if he were a lesser man, at the thought of those who'd ruin his and his cherished friend's sanctuary for their Machiavellian pleasure and selfishness. It emboldened him, yet it was a prelude to the pain that awaited him should he fail. He faintly wondered if contacting Alaya was a lesser cruelty... before pushing the idea out of his mind. His friends would hardly forgive him if he went deeper down that rabbit hole.

No matter the challenge or obstacle, he'll protect Nazarick until his dying breath.

No duty too difficult, no sacrifice too great.

The rest of Ainz Ooal Gown blinked, a few turning their heads as if looking for something. All was quiet, but then they heard something, something that took them out of their pensive stupor. Many wondered if it was just their ears playing tricks on them or if it was simply the white noise of the background, but for the briefest of moments, they heard a sound.

Something cracking.

Before anyone could wonder further where such a sound came from, Shirou's voice grabbed their attention once more.

"I don't care what the odds are. I don't care how many Players conspire against us, be they hundreds, thousands, or even tens of thousands. Hell, they could have all the World Items in the game; it wouldn't change a thing. I'll be damned if I allow even a single Player to get within arm's reach of the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown. Do they want to end us so badly? Then they'll have to pry the Guild Weapon out of my cold, dead fucking hands."

When it came to speeches and meetings, none could match the commanding presence of Touch Me, the assured confidence of Shirou, or the grandiose passion of Momonga. They were the guild's finest orators, able to effortlessly captivate the attention of their fellow members and inspire them to reach greater heights. Through their words, they instilled in others a passion and a drive to excel, to push themselves beyond what they thought possible. As he spoke, they couldn't help but be drawn to his words, feeling the intensity of his emotions and the strength of his conviction. That passion, that strength...

That insanity...

It wasn't logical, it wasn't realistic. They knew it, and they knew he knew it as well.

Shirou was strong, no one could deny that fact, but it was impossible for one Player, for one man, to make a difference stem the tide of reality. That was simply how YGGDRASIL operated. When considered separately, his declaration was nothing more than boastful hyperbole.

He'd be cashing a check that his body wouldn't be able to pay.

But underneath it all, they knew without a shadow of a doubt that their friend would fight tooth and nail and beyond when the time came. For in the face of insurmountable odds, he'll remain like a mighty oak tree, enduring all that came before it.

For that was the kind of person he was.

That he'd tear the world asunder even at the cost of himself before a single tragedy could befall them, it was heartening, and they reveled in the comfort that thought gave them.

The guild members in attendance felt something pulse within them. Their backs straightened out as they regarded the one known far and wide as the Player Killer.

In a moment of weakness, Ainz Ooal Gown faltered, allowing themselves to be swept up by their uncertainty and allowing fear to rule their mind.

There was shame, yes, but a spark was ignited within them. An ardent flame that burned away the uncertainty and hopelessness. A renewed passion.

And from a single spark, a fire grew.

"Oi, oi, what's with all this "I" business? Don't tell me you're already counting us out, Mr. Hero?!" Warrior Takemikazuchi joked, the first among them to speak up. "Don't think we're going to let you have all the fun now. Come hell or high water, we'll beat back every one of their sorry asses so hard that it'll be for the history book! Whoever they are, they'll regret ever messing with Ainz Ooal Gown! Ain't that right, Touch Me-san!?"

A grinning emoticon appeared overhead as the great samurai turned to his friend.

"Indeed!" Touch Me boisterously exclaimed, rising from his seat, standing tall and proud.

"Ainz Ooal Gown has faced countless trials before. We've fought against impossible odds and come out on top time and again! This one shall be no different, and while it may be our biggest challenge yet, it will not be our last! I believe I speak for all here, those of us present and those unfortunately away – but may they remain forever in our spirits and hearts. Like hell, we're going to allow it to end here! We will make them bleed for every step of ground they take! We shall scatter their armies to the four winds! We shall make them regret challenging us and show the realms why we're known as the best around! My friends! Hear me now, we shall not fall! Ainz Ooal Gown, The Great Tomb of Nazarick, they have never known defeat and never shall!"

Touch Me rallied in their Guildmaster's absence, regaining his confidence, and delivered one of his patent speeches that rivaled Momonga's own. A lone silver fist rose to the air, defiant and resolute, calling upon all of them.

"I ask of you, my comrades, will this be the end of us?!"

"NO!"

"Are we going to beat them back and show everyone why we're the best around?!"

"YES!"

"Why? Because who are we?!"

"Ainz Ooal Gown!"

"AINZ OOAL GOWN!"

"AINZ OOAL GOWN!"

Their cheers rose, a cacophony of voices as they all chanted together as one.

Shirou's declaration and Touch Me's speech revitalized them, their innate infectious hopefulness spread, invigorating them all. It reminded them exactly what they were fighting for and precisely why they couldn't afford to lose.

A passionate fire blossomed, burning bright and full. However, the greater the light shines, the deeper the shadow stretches, for there was still a lingering question regarding the whole ordeal.

"Umm, apologies... Not to undermine your speech and Emiya's, but how exactly are we going to go about it?" Voiced Nubo, blushing at the immediate attention of all his friends on him. "I mean... we have a plan, right? Y-you do have a plan, right?"

Everyone then turned right back to Shirou, waiting to hear his response.

To their surprise, Shirou offered only a shrug. They blinked, a few deflating at the rather lackadaisical action that contrasted with his earlier unfaltering confidence.

"For better or for worse, all we can do is prepare and wait. I was kind of planning on winging it or doing what's needed when the time comes. I mean, so long as we can accomplish the task of preventing the destruction of the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown at their hands, it's our victory. We don't need to win per se; we just need to prevent them from winning." He stated, more of an intent than a fully thought-out game plan.

"I planned on discussing with Punitto Moe-san and the others regarding a fully thought-out defense strategy when the time comes..."

The silver-haired Player's admission was a surprise, his stalwart persona cracking slightly and giving away a hint of wry embarrassment. They could easily imagine the sheepish grin on the faker's face as his hand reached back to rub his neck. The mood dropped down a notch, but despite his less-than-confident response, a few grinned and chuckled with him.

In spite of the moment of weakness shown, it only served to endear him to them further. For it was a reminder.

For all his strength, skills, and incredible feats, Shirou was still human. He couldn't do everything, but then again, he wouldn't have to, for they would be there right beside him.

"Well, you heard the boss man, get to thinking Mr. Strategist. Chop, chop." Said Warrior Takemikazuchi, clapping his hands haughtily as if expecting his friend to engineer some grand plan out of nowhere.

"Oh, sure, pile all the work on me. I really feel the love here, guys." Punitto Moe huffed, leaning his head on his hand as a deadpanned emoticon popped over his head.

"Hey, did everyone suddenly forget about me? What am I, chopped liver?" Bellriver came in, the multi-mouth Heteromorph looking back and forth.

"Oh, of course. I can't forget about my assistant."

"Assistant?!" The Gibbering Mouther fired back incredulously. "Excuse you? If anything, I was the main strategist – the first, before you even joined Nine's Own Goal! Lest you forget. You're only the main strategist because I decided to be generous and let you have the spotlight, with all your scheming and plotting."

"First of all, scheming and plotting are the same thing, so you're just being redundant. Secondly, are you sure you didn't just take a back seat because I'm clearly a better strategist than you?" The Death Vine postured smugly.

"Those are some fighting words, if I do say so myself!"

"You want to go?!"

"1 v 1 bro!"

The two strategists argued back and forth, trading jabs and quips as they each sought to outdo the other. Despite the thin veil of barbed words being exchanged, everyone knew they were having fun, with some of the guild members even taking sides and contributing with words of encouragement.

"Why not make a competition?" Luci*Fer proposed. "The two of you will make a battle plan, and when the time comes, we'll see which one is better. Just keep in mind that if we fail, then that's on whoever made the plan, and everyone will probably hate and blame you forever. So no pressure or anything." Said the guild's resident troublemaker casually.

Despite the high stakes, many snickered and laughed at the joke. More voices joined in on the fun, and the room drifted into playful banter between friends, adding some much-needed levity and uplifting the mood greatly.

Things may look rough for Ainz Ooal Gown, but as the saying goes: things may get worse before they get better, but they will.

No matter their foe, Ainz Ooal Gown will face the challenge as they've always had. Together.

Before the conversations could be fully discussed, the room's double doors burst open with a loud bang, causing a few of the members to jump in their seats.

At the doorway stood Peroroncino.

He ran towards the table, more specifically towards where Shirou sat, only for the Birdman to stumble and roll, collapsing in front of the magus. Shirou and Warrior Takemikazuchi, who was the closest to him, jumped to their feet the moment the golden avian tripped and rushed to his aid.

"Whoa, easy, easy. We got you." Warrior Takemikazuchi helped him up, a supportive hand to keep him steady.

Peroroncino's attention was focused solely on Shirou. He struggled to breathe and speak at the same time as heavy, breathless pants left his mouth.

"Breathe, Pero, breathe." Shirou advised. "I'm not going anywhere. Again, take deep breaths, collect your words, and then talk."

The feathered archer bobbed his head and inhaled sharply, filling his lungs with air. After a good thirty seconds, his breathing leveled out, and he could finally speak.

"E-emiya-senpai...!"

"I'm here. What's wrong?"

"T-the World Champion T-tournament!"

Shirou blinked. What did that have to do with anything?

"Okay? What about it?"

"I-it's the Class Card you've talked about wanting to find, the knight one!"

Shirou froze. His world staggered to a grinding, split-second halt. His mouth moved on its own, breathing out a singular word.

"Saber..."

"R-right, that's what it was called!" Peroroncino nodded, remembering the proper name. "I learned that one of the grand prizes for winning this year's tournament is the Saber Class Card!"

"How sure are you of this?" Shirou inquired of his junior, his voice hushed, serious, and hopeful.

"W-wouldn't have rushed here unless I was certain, senpai." Peroroncino promised just as serious. "I even double-checked with my sources."

"H-how? And where... Where did you hear of this?"

"Mind sharing with the rest of the class what's going on?" Luci*Fer voiced up. The rest of Ainz Ooal Gown gathered behind them, just missing what Peroroncino had told him.

It took less than a few minutes for Peroroncino to explain what he knew and bring everyone up to speed. The conference room was quickly abuzz with the sound of conversation and speculations over the news. The matter of the raid on Nazarick was temporarily placed on hold.

"It would make sense why they would host such a prize like that, considering it's a World Class Item and if Emiya-san's NPCs are anything to go by, it'll be a pretty prize indeed. The World Champion Tournament is beyond epic in scale, it would serve as further incentive for the participants." Speculated Punitto Moe, his floral hand stroking his chin.

The World Championship Tournament, one of the biggest and most acclaimed events in all of YGGDRASIL. A sanctioned tournament sponsored by none other than the developers themselves. These special tournaments were held only once a year and were hosted in one of the nine playable realms: Asgard, Álfheim, Vanaheim, Niðavellir, Midgard, Jötunheim, Niflheim, Helheim, and Múspellsheim.

In total, there could and would only be nine World Champions at any given time within all of YGGDRASIL.

Due to the nature of the World Champion tournament and what it represented, it served as a secondary measure where only the strongest and most skilled Players from all corners of the nine realms would gather to compete and determine who was worthy of the title of the strongest.

The tournament winner was bestowed the covetous [World Champion] class in addition to special pieces of equipment befitting their new class and status. The [World Champion] was a beyond unique job class that has been described as an official 'hax' by the greater player base due to simply how overpowered the [World Champion] class provides in terms of stats and granting the champions exclusive abilities and skills that no other job class could hope to replicate.

It was why, oftentimes, Players would compare themselves to a World Champion as a benchmark and gauge their strength. All eight existing World Champions were easily recognized as the top 10 best Players in all of YGGDRASIL. Touch Me, as the Álfheim World Champion, was acknowledged by all as the third-best Player across the entire game.

"Touch Me-san, what are the proceedings for the tournament? How do we enter?" Shirou quickly inquired.

All eyes turned to the guild's resident World Champion as he idly crossed his arms over his chest. It had been some years since his last entry, but the organization of the tournament was still clear in his mind.

"The tournament is usually set around December time, within the middle or near the end of the month. They usually make an announcement at the beginning of the month. So we have plenty of time to—"

"Actually..." Peroroncino spoke up, the tone in his voice giving away hesitance and concern. "I heard from good sources that they're changing up the date and methods. Apparently, they're going to make an official statement sometime today!"

"They are?" Touch Me uttered in surprise, standing up straighter. "Why?"

The golden sniper could offer nothing but a helpless shrug.

"That doesn't make sense. Usually, the shitty devs would make an extravaganza out of this, starting with starter tournaments as preliminary rounds and requiring you to finish in the top 5 to even be eligible to sign up for the official event. For all intents and purposes, this is the last time a World Champion Tournament will be held in all YGGDRASIL! To just jump right into it..." Warrior Takemikazuchi trailed off, his voice morose and contemplative, sharing his rival's confusion.

He had entered the tournament on two separate occasions, and while he hasn't entered any more, he has kept up with the latest news for each one of them over the years. For eight years, there was hardly any deviation in how they operated, and yet, it was only now that the developers decided to shake things up?

No advertisement, no promotion, nothing. It made no business or practical sense to announce such a thing out of nowhere. It was almost as if it were being rushed, but the reason why it might be so, they could only speculate.

The Nephilim couldn't see the logic or purpose of such a decision. And he wasn't alone in that sentiment.

However, the logistics of it didn't matter to the faker, for he was focused on one fact alone.

"So that means the participants will be chosen entirely by the developers, then?" Shirou grimaced, the others following suit.

"Any idea when we'll be getting that official statement?" Asked Coup de Grâce.

No sooner than those words were spoken, Shirou heard something. The sound of a notification. He tuned out the world around him as he saw he had received a [Message]. A DM at that, one titled 'The 9th World Champion Tournament' with the sender being a GM and signed off by none other than Zelretch.

Shirou swiftly accessed the [Message] with speed that would make Rider class Servants blush with envy.

Opening it, dichromatic eyes scanned the content of the [Message]. In summary, he has been selected and invited to be one of the many competitors for the upcoming 9th World Champion Tournament. The rest of the content was other basic formalities that he skimmed through.

The projection user latched onto the main text, reading it twice more and then a third time.

His shoulder sagged as he let out a breath he didn't realize he held. The message left him relieved but also guarded. The suddenness of it all, it reeked of interference. Zelretch had a hand in this, and not just because it had his name on it. The question was, what was the purpose behind the suddenness of it all?

This would mark the first time Shirou had last seen or interacted with Zelretch since the magician first transferred him into the digital domain all those years ago.

The magus could only guess what the Wizard Marshall had planned.

The invitation and guaranteed spot in the tournament did, however, help to settle his frazzled nerves. A sigh of relief left him, yet, he kept his eyes trained on the message with his invitation as if in fear that looking away would allow it to disappear forever.

A brief thought occurred to him, and he wondered

Had he not been chosen as a competitor, what would've he done then? No doubt something insane and reckless.

Shirou shuddered as an idea crossed his mind. He most likely would have made the trip to the tournament's location and barged in, either making demands or brokering a deal, doing anything to have even the remotest chance of winning the Saber Class Card. Even if it meant fighting every single Player in the tournament. Heck, it didn't matter if he had to fight every single Player in the world there as well.

Consequences be damned.

He wasn't going to allow the opportunity to slip through his grasp.

As he kept the message of the invitation in his periphery, he noticed something else. He received two messages. The second one was sent directly from Zelretch himself. The [Message] was simply titled "Let's talk."

"You too, huh?"

Looking up, Warrior Takemikazuchi revealed to the rest of the guild that he too received the same message and invitation as Shirou. Ainz Ooal Gown was quick to congratulate the two, celebrating early on the news.

"Phew." Peroroncino let out a sigh, wiping his forehead with nonexistent sweat. "Well, that's one problem taken care of. Now you've finally got the chance to get that card you've always wanted! Ain't that great?!"

"Yeah..." He answered in a far more subdued tone.

"Something wrong, Emiya-senpai?"

"Ease up, Peroroncino-san." Said Nubo. "It's understandable that he might be a bit worried about the odds and competition. He and Warrior Takemikazuchi-san will have their hands full for the tournament to come."

"Is it, though?" Luci*Fer couldn't help but ask. "We all know those two can compete with good ol' Touch Me-san here." He jabbed his thumb at the guild's resident World Champion. "I'd say this tournament is in the bag! With the two of them, the chances of victory and winning the grand prize just went up no matter which of them wins in the end."

"Perhaps, but nothing is set in stone." Touch Me made known, all eyes deferring to the silver paladin. "And you shouldn't underestimate the tournament, Luci*Fer-san. Aye, both Emiya-san and Warrior Takemikazuchi-san are strong and skilled, as I can attest, but there are still other Players who are just as strong and capable, perhaps even greater. Nothing is guaranteed. However..."

The knight of justice paused, a smiling emoticon appearing over him.

"I have confidence that no matter the opposition, you'll be able to face it head-on and surpass it." He said, ending on a more positive and confident note.

"So, where and when is the date of the tournament, Emiya-senpai?" His kouhai came to his side, giving voice to the question the rest of Ainz Ooal Gown were curious to know.

Shirou and Warrior Takemikazuchi exchanged a knowing glance.

The 9th World Champion Tournament will take place in a few days, and the realm where the final tournament will be hosted – none other than the cradle of humanity itself.

Midgard.

Omake: The Legendary Headpat Skill.

Everything was normal on this day. Bored, Shirou decided to do some inventory management, leading to him fiddling with his menu and eventually coming to his status screen.

It would be here that he noticed something. An alternative tab that wasn't there before. Touching it, he was taken to another screen.

Surprisingly, it was a skill list, but perhaps what was curious most of all was that there were only two skills present. Skills that were never there before.

[Active Skill: High Jump: Once activated, perform a high jump.

- If performed in front of a female, possess a 40% chance to charm.]

Shirou's eyebrow furrowed at the first one. What did a high jump have to do with anything? Also, charm?

[Active Skill: Headpat: A legendary skill, known through the generations, able to soothe the hearts and minds of all those that bear even a tiny affection to the user. Activated by giving out a headpat.

- Every headpat grants buffs and bonus stats to the receiver of the headpat.

- Possess a 1% chance to charm: If the user possesses Harem Protagonist EX, then the charm percentage is 100%]

He read the second skill, read it again, and then read it a third time before the words finally registered in his mind.

Shirou looked down at his hands.

So normal. So simple, yet so much power...

His fingers flexed as an idea struck him.

"I wonder..."

Today was the day. The day of the invasion of Nazarick and to finally tear down Ainz Ooal Gown. A force of 1,500, comprised of 1,200 Players and 300 NPCs, congregated at the end of the swamp. Ahead of them was Nazarick.

With such overwhelming numbers and forces, they should easily be able to flood the ground and make their way to the entrance with ease.

There was only one small problem with that...

"Umm... boss?"

"Yes?"

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

"Depends, are you seeing what looks like to be five NPCs standing there covered in a raging golden light like a Super Saiyan?"

"Oh good. I thought I was going crazy for a second there..."

Standing at the beginning of the cemetery, facing their massive army, were none other than Shirou's Servants. Instead of their normal selves, each one of them was covered in an aurora of energy pouring out of them.

None greater than Assassin, as little Jacky was all but shaking in barely restrained energy, spasming out slightly and outputting the largest corona of energy and golden light.

"I really thought I was hallucinating there or something. I smoked some of that good stuff just before logging on."

"...Are you seriously high right now?" The Player turned to his second-in-command incredulously.

"Yup~" His second in command replied nonchalantly, popping the p at the end.

Grimacing, he shook his head. Despite their presence, the alliance still vastly outnumbered them. They might be some powerful secret weapon of Ainz Ooal Gown, but with their overwhelming forces, they'll win, no doubt about that.

Before he could give the order, he heard rumblings. Seconds later, pouring out from the unknown, and nowhere were hordes of mobs of all shapes, sizes, and creatures. From dragons to elemental spirits to angels and demons, there was an absolute menagerie of beings from all corners of the nine realms.

All level 100 and higher, with even numerous bosses thrown into the mix.

Also, he noted coincidentally that every single one of them appears to be female for whatever reason.

'This is fine, this is fine...' The leader of the alliance repeated.

Ainz Ooal Gown may have somehow acquired an army comprised of high-level mobs from across the entire overworld and high-end bosses, but it was still doable.

They still had superior numbers, skills, equipment, items, and even World Class items.

It would no doubt be a difficult fight, but they can do it...

A monstrous bellow ripped through the air, and a chill like they'd never felt before crawled up and down their spines. All the invaders turned only to gawk in abject horror as the space in front of them bent, twisting, and writhing before ripping apart as They appeared.

If their beyond monstrous size and form weren't enough to give him and the rest of the alliance a heart attack, the names of these bosses were the final nail in the coffin for them.

Cthulhu

Yog Sothoth

Nyarlathotep

Ïa Shub-Niggurath

Azathoth

All of them level 500.

Five World Enemies.

"Oh, we are so fucked...!"

The leader mutely nodded along with his second-in-command's assertion.

With a roar from Ainz Ooal Gown's side, the 'war' began.

Deep within the inner sanctum of the Tomb of Nazarick, within the Throne Room, the members of Ainz Ooal Gown all watched with their jaws on the floor at the absolute devastation they were witnessing.

Calling it a fight was putting it generously; it was a massacre. Wholesale.

"You know..." Touch Me began. "When I heard about it, I was a bit skeptical, but now..." A loud scream and several pleas for mercy rang out from the video feed.

"I take it all back."

"How..." All eyes turned to Tabula, and while his avatar remained inscrutable as always, they could all fear the despair wafting off of him.

"Something wrong, Tabula-san?" Bukubukuchagama asked.

"H-how...?" He repeated, somehow far more broken and on the verge of breaking down.

"I mean, Emiya-senpai explained it to us and even gave us a demonstration. So..."

"Not that!" He snapped.

"Cthulhu, Yog Sothoth, Nyarlathotep, Ïa Shub-Niggurath, Azathoth. They are all beings beyond the mortal mind, beyond mortal comprehension. Concepts given form, an existence that sits outside of what we consider life. Beings of incorporeal weight that are both ideas and alive. So why... Since when are they even remotely female?!" Tabula shouted, all but demanding some kind of explanation for the phenonium he was seeing.

"That's your biggest question? Not the fact that the wannabe hero somehow managed to get FIVE WORLD ENEMIES on our side?!" Ulbert exclaimed.

"Because it's an insult! They are architects and staples of the horror and Lovecraftian genres! And they're all but turned into some kind of fetishistic joke!" Cried the occult otaku.

"I mean, it's kind of always been that way. Since, like, the internet was a thing? Rule 34, my dude. You would not believe the amount of fanart and works based solely on them." Peroroncino offered an answer, though it was far from helpful.

"Wait. How do you know that?" Warrior Takemikazuchi asked, already fearing the answer.

"Three words: Eldritch. Dommy. Mommy."

The eldritch heteromorph let out an incomprehensible screech, webbed fingers reaching to tear out his non-existent hair in frustration.

The rest of the guild wisely chose to ignore it, focusing instead on the man of the hour himself.

Shirou, he'd been staring at his hands, all but motionless, ever since the beginning.

Finally, he only had this to say.

"I am god..." He muttered, as if awaking to a revelation.

The rest of the guild - sans Tabula, who was on the floor crying - looked at one another.

"Well, that doesn't sound foreboding at all..." Momonga mumbled.

With his power, Shirou did not stop there, eventually using the power of Headpat, embracing his true power and his calling as a Harem Protagonist, and commanding a great and powerful army.

With little to challenge his strength, he set about accomplishing the once-dream of Ainz Ooal Gown of conquering one of the nine worlds in the game in their name. After the conquest of Helheim, he moved onward, conquering the other eight realms.

And so Shirou ruled over all of YGGDRASIL as he was always meant to.

The Harem King.

Omake: You've got a friend in me – A cute idea that came to me when Dante and I were talking and Kingprotea and Gargantua were brought up and the fact that they're almost height and size. Then my mind just went off from there. I ship it.

"Would you like to be my friend?" Kingprotea asked the construct.

Gargantua looked at its fellow titan, head titled slightly to show its confusion.

Gargantua did not quite understand. True, they may be both NPCs, but it was merely a Floor Guardian while Kingprotea was a Servant and under the direct command of Lord Emiya. One of the greatest and most respected among the Supreme Beings, second only to their leader and king, Lord Momonga. Secondly, it was unsure of what exactly "a friend" entails.

Sensing its puzzlement and question, Kingprotea continued.

"Because of my size, I can't move around much or follow Lord Emiya like my sisters." Her smile dipped when she thought about the other Sakura Fives and the freedom they had to traverse and walk around wherever they wished.

It wasn't the first time she lamented the fact that she came in one size and could only grow instead of shrink. Hence, she was on the 4th Floor, for it was the only place that could accommodate her.

Sensing her sadness, Gargantua's voice rumbled, acknowledging the Servant's request for companionship.

"...FRIEND...?"

She perked up.

"Yes, friend." She chimed happily, her mood improving.

Gargantua wasn't sure why, but it felt it liked seeing Kingprotea happy over her being sad.

"...FRIEND..." It repeated.

"Yes, friend." Kingprotea reassured the towering titan.

"...FRIEND..." The Floor Guardian said again. There was a tint of emotion in its voice, a hint of happiness.

This exchange repeated itself and continued on for several more minutes. In the end, both were content with the situation.

[—][—][—][—][—][—][—][—][—]

Within the 4th Floor, many of the NPCs and mobs wandering congregated around the lakeside. Their gaze focused above them, on the two titans that dominated the floor.

What were the two towering NPCs doing that was garnering all of their attention?

Why, playing patty cake, of course.

"Patty cake ~ patty cake ~ bake me a cake ~" Kingprotea sang, clapping her hand and playing to the rhythm.

"PATTY...CAKE...PATTY...CAKE...BAKE...ME...CAKE..." Gargantua followed along, mimicking the Servants movements and actions.

"Bake me a cake ~ as fast as you can ~ !"

"BAKE...CAKE...FAST...CAN!"

At the end, both of them clapped their hands together before shooting their hands forward to clap the other's. A loud boom echoed out from the action.

Kingprotea was fine, but Gargantua swayed slightly before regaining its balance.

"Yay! I win again!" The Alter Ego cheered cutely, clapping her hands together at her victory, happy as she could be.

Score: 137 wins to her, 0 to the Floor Guardian.

"...YEAY...!" Gargantua also cheered, its arm in the air.

It didn't wholly understand the rules and purpose of the game, but it had plenty of spirits.

Besides, Kingprotea was happy and having fun, and for Gargantua, that was good enough.

"Let's play again!"

Gargantua nodded and readily complied. And so the two gigantic NPCs played patty cakes the night away. In the end, the massive golem never managed to earn a win, but that was all right. It was just content playing with its friend.

[—][—][—][—][—][—][—][—][—]

It was the day of the raid on Nazarick, and the invaders had just penetrated the 4th Floor. The entire underground was in chaos; spells, skills, and attacks of all nature were flying and exploding everywhere.

Gargantua towered above them all, and with a bellow, it swung its arms. Chunks of rubble and earth fell upon the hordes of Players invading the floor.

The Floor Guardian staggered as hundreds of spells slammed into it. The golem shook it off, even as its large HP bar dropped down into the red.

It would not falter.

It would not stop.

Duty until death.

Gargantua's crimson orbs gaze out upon the battlefield, where they witnessed it all.

The numerous NPCs and mobs of the 4th Floor, Gargantua's allies and subordinates, charged the invaders with reckless abandonment. War cries fill the air, all crying out in the name of the Supreme Beings.

It wasn't just them, as they were joined by the presence of the Supreme Beings themselves, fighting alongside them and against the overwhelming numbers. Their presence alone emboldened them to fight to their last breath and beyond.

"Master!" The distressed cry of Kingprotea rang out, drawing Gargantua's sudden attention.

Just before, a combination of spells were fired upon Shirou, who was unable to escape in time. His pained cry echoed across the battlefield.

Kingprotea rushed forward to rescue him, only for a combination of Super Tier Magic spells to slam into her, her body falling to the ground with a pained cry.

The Floor Guardian witnessed this, and time froze for a split second.

Something swirled within it. Something foreign. An impossibility; emotion. Specifically one kind.

A furious, white-hot rage exploded within it.

How dare they...

HOW DARE THEY!

How dare these pathetic, insignificant, fragile worms dare to sully the great and hallowed halls of The Great Tomb of Nazarick, home to the Supreme Beings, with their filthy presence.

How dare they come, having the audacity to raise their hand against the great and powerful Supreme Beings themselves.

But greatest of all, how dare they hurt Kingprotea...

HURT ITS FRIEND!

An iron bellow ripped through the air, a roar of a voice that sounded like a hundred rumbling avalanches down a mountain.

The invaders all paused, hands shooting to their ears to cover them at the sound. Not just those from the 4th Floor, but the others above them as well. The roar even reached the surface, with many Players above wondering what the hell that was. The world itself trembled under the force of the roar.

Recovering, they looked, and a part of them wished they hadn't.

Gargantua was covered in a raging golden aura, glowing with incandescent power and rage. Two burning crimson orbs flaring, focused on the enemies in front of it. Its name and status bars were jumbled, with nothing but incoherent characters and letters, as if there were a glitch.

The invaders were taken aback by what they saw. None were more shocked than Ainz Ooal Gown themselves, shocked at the super-powered state of their Floor Guardian.

"Umm, correct me if I'm wrong, but Gargantua never had something like that. Right...?" Peroroncino wondered, a shaking talon pointing at the Floor Guardian.

"...No. It shouldn't..." Tabula answered in equal disbelief, unable to take his eyes away.

"HOLY SHIT! DID THAT THING JUST GO SUPER SAIYAN!?" A voice exclaimed.

Faster than it had any right to be, Gargantua blitzed forward. The invading forces barely had any time to react or defend themselves as the massive NPC rushed down their line. Body and earth kicked up under its force as the Floor Guardian smashed through them, leaving nothing but destruction and confusion in its wake.

Gargantua didn't stop there, as it burst through onto the 3rd Floor, the edges and floor cracking at his entrance. It continued forward, arms outstretched, with the purpose of hitting and catching as many of the Players as it could.

An unstoppable juggernaut of destruction and rage.

Many of the invaders managed to recover and launch skills, spells, and attacks against the rampaging golem, but it did little to halt its momentum. If anything, it only empowered it. Gargantua smashed through it all as it traversed the floors, making its way upwards. From the 3rd to the 2nd to the 1st, and then the surface. Every attempt to attack or stop it failed, leaving only a Gargantua-size hole in his path and ruin.

Players and mercenary NPCs crashed against its titanic form, squashed by either being run down, being smacked away and dying as they slammed the ground and wall at unparalleled speed, or by falling rubble and crushing them by the destroyed Floors.

Its fury knows no bounds.

Despite its berserker state, it knew. Having been attacked by hundreds upon hundreds of attacks, it would not survive for long even in its empowered state. However, it was right where it wanted and needed to be. The Supreme Beings withdrew to the 4th Floor, so that meant the 3rd Floor and up held only the invaders.

Gargantua did not have to worry about hurting any allies or the Supreme Beings.

At the surface, it pulled its massive arm in, its figure hunching as it concentrated all its lifeforce and energy into a singular point within its colossal body.

One of the Guildmasters of the invading alliance saw this, his eyes bulging out as flashes of light beamed out of it. The semblance of an idea of what it was going to do hit him.

"MOVE! THAT'S THING GOING TO EXPLODE!"

His warning would come too late.

"GLORY TO THE SUPREME BEINGS, GLORY TO NAZARICK!" Gargantua bellowed, not that any of the Players were able to understand.

A white, blinding light burst across its hard exterior and body, and in the next second, the entire surface was engulfed in a powerful explosion, one that extended into the skies and below.

Those still stuck in the Floors, still recovering from Gargantua's rampage, had little time to react as an explosive force consumed and razed the first three floors, bringing fiery death and destruction to all that managed to survive its initial charge.

For Gargantua, it was met with darkness the moment it exploded. Were it possible, it would have held a smile of contentment. It had done its duty, protecting the Floor and the Supreme Beings. The Floor Guardian took as many of the invaders as it could before succumbing. Perhaps the greatest of them all, it had protected its friend, Kingprotea.

Now it rests, knowing that the rest of his allies and its master will finish off the foolish invaders once and for all.

A life well spent and a duty well done.

For a moment, it knew nothing, and the next thing it knew, it was back on the 4th Floor. Gargantua looked around; everything was normal, almost as if the raid and fighting never happened at all.

"Gargantua!"

It turned just in time for Kingprotea to appear, hugging from the side.

"You're ok!" The Alter-Ego tearfully but happily cried out.

"...FRIEND..." Gargantua hugged her back.

The Floor Guardian would later learn that, thanks to its action and sacrifice, the rest of the Supreme Beings were able to mop up the last of the pathetic invaders with ease, securing their victory. And in their infinite mercy, they have revived all those that fell in the battle, Gargantua included.

Gargantua stood taller, proud of the information she shared with it. Though the golem wasn't present to hear the praise from his glorious masters personally, hearing it from Kingprotea was more than enough for the golem.

And so, the two lived happily ever after as the bestest of friends.

Character Sheet Stat Screen:

Lancer – Lvl: 100 (True Name: Scáthach)

The Immortal Slaying Witch

Job: NPC Servant of Emiya

Resident: The Great Tomb of Nazarick; can travel with summoner.

Alignment: Neutral Good. Sense of Justice: 250.

Race: Heroic Spirit

Racial Level: No Race Levels.

Job Level:

[Spear Master]: 10 Lvl

[Expert]: 10 Lvl

[Slayer]: 10 Lvl

[Lancer]: 5 Lvl

[Rune Master]: 5 Lvl

[Sage Wisdom]: 5 Lvl

[Hero]: 5 Lvl

[Magus Killer]: 5 Lvl

[Other]: 45 Lvl

Total: 100 Job level = 100 level

Ability Chart:

HP: 85

MP: 77

Phy ATK: 85

Phy DEF: 80

Agility: 80

Mag ATK: 60

Mag Def: 90

Resist: 95

Special: 100+

Total Stats: 752+

Author's Note:

Hopefully last few chapters wasn't too much of a bore due to being dominated with exposition and narrative writing. I'm setting up the board so to speak, just not for what's to come later in the arc but what'll come afterwards as well if what I have planned isn't clear already. Hopefully I don't take too long to get the next chapter written and finished for you all.

And now we finally see the roster fulfilled. I knew from the very beginning, way back when I solidified my intentions for the class cards and their role that no matter whom I choose, there were always be some that are sad that their favorite wasn't chosen. But I believe it's a solid line up none the less.

I was a bit surprised that some were confused regarding Nightingale's selection, since considering her lore and personality would've been kind of a no brainer being paired with Shirou. Lancer, this will probably be a topic of discussion but I feel her selection makes the most sense out of all the Lancer Servants. Plus, her as the Queen of the Shadow Land fits with the aesthetic of Nazarick. The same goes with Caster as a powerful non-human and then there's Assassin. I've got some ideas and plans for Jackie and Tamamo. Don't you worry about that. Finally, there's Rider. With the recent release and completion of the Heaven's Feel movies, Rider/Medusa finally got the love and attention she deserved and so she's riding high from the popularity. I debated with myself of the idea of switching her out but in the end, I kept Ushi. Coming down to personal preference and selective choice ideas and future plot points for her.

Aside from that, I can't think of much else to say as unlike the other chapters, there isn't much points of contention in the chapter to explain myself in full detail with. Especially since this is a prelude for what I've got in stored. I believe I got it down as good as I could've.

The next chapter, things will be kicking off and I'm ecstatic to get the ball rolling for the new set of chapters for this TOURNAMENT ARC! And to the one reviewer, while yes indeed this is in fact a Gigguk reference. After all, when speaking about one of the greatest anime trope in history how else can we get across our excitement if not by proclaiming in our loudest voice we can?!

With that said, please, do leave review or comment what you may or might not like about the chapter and let us know! I may not always answer on a timely manner, but every piece of support and voice helps and keeps us motivated to churn these chapters out.