Much Fanfare, Very Royal. Do I Get A Royal Villian Lap Cat?

My physical body lay still with a convincing imitation of unconsciousness, while my mind, a shimmering projection of my true self, hovered above. I watched the scene with a amusement as Asuna, her own spectral form radiating a faint, ethereal glow, stood beside me.

Her arms crossed as her expression showed an adorable mixture of impatience and amusement.

We watched as Gazef and his men, their faces etched with concern, carefully lifted our "unconscious" bodies onto a pair of stretchers. 

A fancy carriage, its polished wood gleaming in the afternoon sun, had arrived, drawn by a team of four magnificent horses. 

I snickered at the fanfare.

Clearly, our supposed "foreign royalty" status was affording us a certain level of preferential treatment. 

Not that we needed it, of course. But a little comfort never hurt anyone.

"Kirito," Asuna's voice, a playful whisper that only I could hear, echoed in my mind, "I feel like this is way better than using the system's text function. Wouldn't it be easier to just talk this way when we want a private conversation? Splitting our minds is child's play for us now, you know." She punctuated her statement with a spectral hip-check that, despite its lack of physical substance, managed to convey a surprising amount of sass.

As expected of my sexy sass-lass wife.

"You're thinking both amusing, complimentary, and offensive at the same time again, aren't you?"

I scratched the back of my head, a sheepish grin spreading across my face. "Yeah, you're right," I admitted, my voice laced with a self-deprecating humor. "And I kinda didn't think about it. Despite my Intelligence and Strategy domains, I guess my creativity has taken a bit of a hit lately." The past year of strategic planning and world domination scenarios swirling around in my head were starting to make even the simplest of creative power use a bit complicated to think about.

"Eh, fine, it happens." Asuna said, her voice softening slightly as she visibly waves me off. "I guess we should talk about how much power we should show going forward. I say we pretend we got a power boost from that last fight. Like, the ancestral power lingers a bit more each time we use it, until a restraint level just poofs out of existence or something."

"Sure," I replied, nodding in agreement with my hand stroking my non-existent beard like a dastardly villain. "That seems like a good excuse. Gotta keep things consistent, right?" Besides, it would be fun to watch Gazef's reactions as we gradually 'unleashed' our 'growing' power. The look on his face when we finally revealed our 'true strength'- well, that was something I was definitely looking forward to.

I looked around with a pause, examining the rhythmic swaying of the carriage, the muffled sounds of Gazef's men talking amongst themselves, the faint scent of horse sweat and leather... it all faded into background noise as I observed my own "unconscious" form sprawled on the makeshift stretcher. Asuna's spectral form hovered beside me, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

A short pause stretched between us, the silence broken only by the creaking of the carriage wheels. Then, Asuna spoke, her voice full of a curiosity that I knew all too well.

"Hey," she said, her gaze fixed on the thousands upon thousands of souls I'd tucked away in a secure corner of my spatial storage, "why did you keep the souls of those useless, rotten, extremist bastards?"

I couldn't help but chuckle, a genuine smile spreading across my face. "Why Asuna," I said, my voice laced with a mock offense, "you wound me! You wouldn't think I would make war and then leave the spoils of war to rot away? I don't waste resources. In fact, I forge them into new tools!"

Asuna rolled her eyes, her exasperation at my theatrics evident. "Okay, but explain what you are going to do with them," she demanded. "I want to know. You aren't doing some evil shit with literal soul stuff, right? We just got done driving off a lich of ultimate evil. I don't want you to become one."

I feigned a look of anguish, clutching at my spectral chest. "Ah, you stab me upon my very heart!" I exclaimed, my voice dripping with mock melodrama. 

Then I switched to a completely serious voice and stated matter of factly, "In fact, I'm wiping their souls of memory and personality while leaving technical ability and knowledge intact. Effectively creating a new person and turning evil into neutral. I still need a workforce, and what better way to create one by making use of garbage and recycling it?"

Asuna considered this for a moment, her expression thoughtful. "I'm fine with this," she said finally, a hint of uncertainty still lingering in her voice. "Somehow."

We shared a silent nod, a mutual understanding passing between us. With a shrug, we returned to our physical bodies, the transition as smooth and effortless as slipping into a familiar pair of shoes.

I let out a groan, my eyelids fluttering open as I 'regained consciousness.' "Would someone tell me what hit me in the back of the head?" I asked, my voice a convincing blend of confusion and grogginess. No need for over-the-top theatrics here. Gazef seemed to be the type who appreciated a more subtle approach when it comes to believing things while not hopped up on adrenaline.

Time to play the role of the hero returned to consciousness after a great and trying battle. This should be fun.

-----

The Greater Hanzo, a master assassin whose loyalty to Ainz Ooal Gown and Nazarick was absolute, moved through the shadows with a grace that defied his bulky armor. His mission, entrusted to him by Albedo-dono herself, was to gather information on the so-called "Grand Outsider Gods" who had dared to challenge the Supreme Being's authority. Demiurge-dono, the brilliant strategist and demon of Nazarick, was already formulating a plan of action, but intelligence was paramount.

He knew, with unwavering certainty, that Ainz-sama would never lie. Yet, the very notion of beings more powerful than the Supreme Being, more powerful than the combined might of Nazarick, was difficult to comprehend. Surely, these "Grand Outsider Gods" were nothing more than a minor inconvenience, a temporary obstacle to be overcome.

That thought barely formed in his mind when a searing pain ripped through his very essence. His soul, tethered to his body by an invisible thread, was violently yanked from its physical vessel. His carefully maintained stealth vanished as his now-soulless body slumped to the ground, a lifeless husk that, for some inexplicable reason, burst into flames, a strange blue fire consuming it with unnatural speed.

He found himself facing a figure radiating an aura of power that dwarfed even Ainz-sama's formidable presence. It was the male "Grand Outsider God," the one Ainz-sama had described in his briefing. Black hair, sharp eyes, a smile that promised not amusement, but something far more sinister.

"Now, I know you won't talk," the figure said, his voice was a calm, almost bored drawl that had an undertone of sadistic amusement, "so I'm just going to yank those memories out and have that knowledge that way. When you wake again, you will be completely different, and you won't remember a thing. You could say you'll be a different person entirely! Bye!"

The Greater Hanzo, his soul trembling, his mind reeling, wanted to scream, to fight, to resist. But the power radiating from this being was overwhelming, absolute. His will, his loyalty, his very essence, crumbled before this overwhelming force. He believed the truth, but it was a truth that arrived too late.

And then, he ceased to be.