135

"Well, that spell is one of my most powerful trump cards. Because El-Nix-dono desired it, I went out of my way to cast that grand spell, which I can only use once every ten years. Thus, for the next decade, I must conserve my strength."

"Hoh!" A strange gleam lit up Osk's eyes. "Is it really alright to tell me that? After all, this might be considered to be a weakness of Your Majesty..."

"It is fine. I may not be able to use a destructive spell like that, but slaughtering any fools who oppose me is still easy. After all, it does not mean I cannot use other spells."

"As expected of Your Majesty. In other words, the Martial Lord will also be an easy opponent; is that what you are implying?"

After Ainz nodded with confidence, a smile lit up Osk's face. However, when Ainz studied him, he could not be sure if the smile was genuine.

"I see. Finally, please allow me one more question. Why do you want to fight the Martial Lord, Your Majesty?"

"Because I have heard that he is a powerful foe... I wish to know who is stronger, between him and Gazef Stronoff. There was Gazef in the Kingdom, so perhaps the greatest reason is because I want to know who is his equivalent in the Empire."

Of course, that was not why Ainz was fighting. However, it was the reason he and Ainzach had agreed upon after discussing the matter.

It would have been fine to state the real reason, but Osk was not a trustworthy person. In truth, he seemed like the sort who prioritised his own gains. Ainz felt that being honest with him would not end well.

"I understand. Thank you very much... Then, I shall schedule the fight with the Martial Lord. However―"

Osk raised his hand to interrupt Ainz's thanks.

"I hope you will abide by the rules of the arena. In addition, while Your Majesty might be taking the match with the Martial Lord seriously, it is still a performance of sorts for us. Thus, an overly one-sided fight would be terribly boring. With that in mind, I would like to request that Your Majesty not use magic, and that you will use a sword ― a weapon ― to battle the Martial Lord. I submit that these conditions should make for a good fight."

"What are you saying?!"

Ainzach sprang up from his seat. His face was red from anger.

"Is that even possible?! His Majesty is a magic caster! How do you expect him to win?!"

"Hoho. Indeed, that is the case. There would be no way for His Majesty the Sorcerer King to win once his magic was sealed. My my, to think I actually brought up such a sensible matter. Still, I did not expect to hear these words from your mouth. I would have expected you to be alright with His Majesty losing. It seems my opinion of you has changed."

"You―!"

"Ainzach, don't get too worked up. It is fine."

"...Your Majesty, what did you say?"

Ainz chuckled, because Osk and Ainzach were looking at him in an amusing way. However, it would be bad if that laugh was interpreted as sneering, so Ainz tried to mask it with a snort.

However, that was impossible for someone who had only a hole for a nose.

Ainz decided not to waste his energy and decided to try and bluff his way through with words.

"You seem to have misheard me. I said, it is fine."

There was no change in Osk's expression, but his mind was working at high speeds. That much was obvious.

"...Then, will you swear it on the name of the Sorcerer King, Your Majesty?"

"Swear on my name? ...I understand. I, Ainz Ooal Gown, swear by my own name that I shall not use any form of magic during the battle with the Martial Lord."

"Wait! Your Majesty! How can you make such an oath without even seeing the Martial Lord's strength?"

Ainzach's words were very sensible. However, if his information on the Martial Lord was correct, there should be no problems in doing so.

"Well, it'll work out somehow."

"Do you really think it'll work itself out?!"

Ainz was vaguely moved by Ainzach's retort. Nobody had stated their opinions like this ever since he had begun his reign as the ruler of Nazarick. That had come up a little during his time as Momon, but even that had faded away after he had risen through the ranks.

"You too! If the king of another country dies in the Empire's arena, there'll be hell to pay!"

Of course, Ainz thought as he locked eyes with Osk.

"Well, that's only to be expected. What will you do, Your Majesty? It is not too late to accept the advice of your loyal subject and give up now."

Ainz shrugged in response. He could understand Ainzach's worries. After all, this plan had originally been his idea. Granted, he had been operating under the assumption that he could use magic when he came up with that plan. However, did he really think that Ainz without magic was that weak?

"It will be fine. More importantly, shouting like that is quite shameful, Ainzach. Then, Osk. I'm not too clear on this, but what good does my death do you?"

Osk's eyes went wide in surprise. A reaction like that was not the slightest bit cute on a middle-aged man like him.

"It seems Your Majesty is mistaken. I would gain nothing from it. As the Guildmaster says, it would be a far greater hindrance for me."

There did not seem to be any ulterior motives behind proposing these disadvantageous conditions for Ainz. In all likelihood, it had been born from his thoughts as a promoter.

"―Is that so. Then, we will proceed as planned.."

"...Your Majesty, do you have a way to defeat the Martial Lord ― who is stronger than Gazef Stronoff ― without magic?"

"...Stronoff, huh. Truly a man of enviable strength."

Ainz noticed the look of surprise on Ainzach's face, but Ainz did not say a word as he recalled the former Warrior-Captain.

"If the Martial Lord is stronger than that man, then obviously, I'll have to be on my guard. However, the strength I speak of refers to his spirit and not his fighting ability. Now, if we were comparing the strength of the Martial Lord's and Stronoff's sword arms, surely the former would slay the latter in a moment."

"I see. Speaking of which, I must continue answering the question which you asked earlier, Your Majesty."

Osk raised both his hands. His arms were muscular and bereft of flab.

"I love the clash of sword against sword and fist against fist. Regretfully, I have no talent for fighting skills, and all my efforts could win me victory. That was why I thought of making a warrior who could substitute for me, and have him attain victory in my place."

Osk sneered. This was not the merchant's attitude he had been showing until now, but his face as a human being.

This was the first time Ainz had encountered such a strange person, although he knew that fetishes varied from person to person. In other words, Osk had a particularly abnormal fetish. Ainz made a mental compartment called "Perverts" and filed Osk into it.

"Therefore, it would feel very good should Your Majesty lose to the Martial Lord I have trained."

"Is that so."

Osk and Ainzach looked at Ainz, surprise written all over their faces.

Ainz wanted to ask, what have you been doing since just now?

"Don't give me that dumb look. If you have something to say, say it."

"No, no, that's all I have to say."

"I have no idea what sort of reaction you want from me, Osk... Humans are truly complicated creatures. Well? If that's all, does that mean you expect me to fill the gap? ...Hm, how about this. Are you really that happy to beat me while I cannot use my magic?"

For some reason, Osk stumbled over his answer.

"Eh, ah, that... It's just that I don't really like magic that much..."

"I see. Then, let's leave the matter at that."

Osk and Ainzach looked at each other. Come on, spit it out, Ainz thought. Still, this was how the working world went. If someone who has no permission to speak bared his heart, he would get into trouble.

"We have made our true intentions known to each other, so let us not waste time with petty deceptions and get on with things. How will you arrange the schedule for the fight with the Martial Lord? If possible, I'd like to make a big event of it."

"Then, I'll officially announce a challenger to the Martial Lord after today's events. I'd better get on it. However, I intend to keep the fact that the challenger is Your Majesty a secret until the match starts."

"I do not understand your reasons for that. Would that not be a waste, from a promoter's point of view?"

"Logic dictates that the king of an allied country showing up at an arena match is... oya? Come to think of it, I haven't heard of a welcoming ceremony. Is it scheduled for later?"

Ainz could not help but look away.

This was bad.

Ainz gave thanks that he did not have a heart, and then forcefully shook his empty, undead skull. Then, he shrugged helplessly.

"I came to the Empire in a personal capacity. El-Nix-dono does not know that I am here."

Osk's expression vanished. He must have scented something suspicious. As a merchant, it made sense that he would be very sensitive to potential profit. In other words, if there were no gains to be made, there would be no point in participating.

"I understand."

Eh?

"Publicly announcing Your Majesty's challenge would surely draw comments from all sides. Naturally, the identity of the challenger must be kept secret. Then, can I assume you will handle all the issues which will result from this, Your Majesty?"

"Of course. Leave that part of things to me."

"I understand. Then, can I take up a bit more of your time? I would like to finalize the schedule for the day of the match."

-x-X-x-

"Has he gone back?"

"Yes, Master."

The butler had returned from sending off the Sorcerer King, and that was his answer to Osk's question.

"Really now," Osk replied, and then he looked to the maid standing behind the butler.

"―Headhunter Rabbit."

What, the man before him thought as he tilted his dainty little head.

Yes, "his." He was a man, dressed in an outfit that best fit a maid.

According to him, he did so because dressing like a woman made others underestimate him and become careless, and also because people would not attack his groin.

It would seem that it was for those two reasons, and not because of personal preference. However, given that he displayed adorable motions like those from just now even in everyday life, he probably enjoyed this sort of thing to some extent.

The fact that his thoughts had actually wandered that far was a sign that he was thinking too much about this.

It did not inconvenience Osk in any particular way, so he did not mind.

Then, there was the matter of his alias, "Headhunter Rabbit".

It did not suit a cute-looking man, but then again, he was a mercenary who hailed from a nation to the east of the City-State Alliance, famous as a warrior-cum-assassin.

Osk had signed a contract with him and hired him for a staggering amount. He had contracted worker teams and gladiators as bodyguards too, but nobody else was paid as highly as him.

His strength matched his price tag ― above an orichalcum-ranked adventurer, at the very least. The fact was that he had not been embroiled in any troublesome matters ever since he had employed him.

"Tell me what you think of His Majesty, the Sorcerer King."

He had another ability, besides being a first-rate fighter-cum-assassin.

That was the ability to analyze his opponents. Through long experience in the murderous profession of being a warrior and assassin, he had attained the ability to evaluate people ― to see if they were strong.

"It's extremely bad."

To date, there was only one other person about whom he had stated a similar opinion. That person was the Martial Lord himself. In other words, this was the second person he could not defeat.

Incidentally, the rank below that was "It's bad", which he had said when he had seen the Empire's Four Knights.

"Is His Majesty a strong warrior as well?"

"I'm not sure. Judging by his footsteps alone, he's not that strong. He doesn't walk like someone who's been trained as a warrior or assassin. Rather, the uncle beside him feels more like a warrior. Still ― it's bad. Just standing behind him made me want to run away."

After he said that, he extended his arms.

Osk's eyes were entranced by his fists.

They were round fists.

His fists had been reshaped by punching hard objects tens, perhaps hundreds of thousands of times, until they were now in a round, ball-like shape.

These hands were made for battle.

A chill ran through Osk, followed by an uncontrollable excitement.

"―Where are you looking, you pervert."

"I was just thinking that those were good hands."

It was true he liked those hands very much, but sadly, Headhunting Rabbit did not interest him.

Gender was not a big matter for him. However, Osk's ideal partner was the warrior from the Kingdom's Blue Rose (Gagaran). Granted, Headhunting Rabbit would make a good partner as well, but he felt too skinny, compared to her. In contrast, the Martial Lord was a little too thick.

"...So you don't want me to renew my contract with you next year?"

"That would be very troubling! Hardly anyone can match up to you... Well, the heiress of Ijaniya aside. Oops, it seems we've gotten off-topic. Then―"

Osk's eyes left those round fists, and travelled up. Goosebumps broke out on Headhunting Rabbit's skin.

"I haven't been able to calm down yet. It feels really bad."

"So he's nothing much as a warrior, but he's an extremely bad opponent..."

"He's just like another Martial Lord."

Osk picked up on what Headhunting Rabbit was trying to say. He was referring to that Martial Lord.

There were powerful and weak races in this world.

Humans typified the weak races, being little more than meatbags without darkvision, with no hard carapaces to protect their bodies, or other special abilities.

In contrast, there were the mighty races, like Dragons, for instance. They were protected by hard scales, they were graceful and mighty, they were equipped with claws and teeth which could easily rend steel, they possessed fiery or icy breath and other special abilities, and they were furnished with wings that they could use to soar through the sky.

They were a race that was strong, even without warrior training.

What Headhunting Rabbit was trying to say was that the Sorcerer King belonged to such a race.

The undead had poor physical stats. This was what Osk knew to be true. Yet, it did not seem to be the case for the Sorcerer King.

"Osk-sama, why did you accept this match? His Majesty knows about the Martial Lord, but we do not know about his abilities. I feel it will be a very unfavorable match."

"...Ara? You don't get it?"

Headhunting Rabbit replied in a tired voice, "I don't think about these pointless things―"

」

The butler looked to Osk in a surprised way. Thus, Osk answered:

"Does the champion flee from challengers?"

"Is that all?"

"That is all. However, that is also why it is so important. There's no need to just kill each other. But if this is an official challenge, complete with a letter sent up to request a match, it can't be avoided. The Martial Lord would think the same way as well."

"What an idiot―"

"Perhaps. Still, that's men for you. However, I feel His Majesty is the type who reveals his true strength in battle, rather than during a competitive match. Now, consider a regulated bout, and a no-holds-barred deathmatch. Under which circumstances would you prefer to face the Sorcerer King?"

"Neither. I'd turn tail and run."

Osk laughed, because that was the wisest choice.

"Then, next up. What do you think of the Sorcerer King?"

That line was not directed at his master, but at the butler waiting in the rear who did not change his expression.

In the past, he might have expressed his displeasure silently, to indicate that was not the proper attitude a hired man should have toward his master. Still, that displeasure had vanished somewhere along the way. Perhaps it was when Headhunting Rabbit had slain a would-be assassin.

"He has a very charming personality."

"Ho~n," Headhunting Rabbit mused in a strange way.

Ainzach did not appear to be under duress. In other words, the Sorcerer King had something which allowed him to secure the cooperation of a city's residents within a few months of conquering it.

"Did you see his regal bearing? Whether it was in bringing only Ainzach, or agreeing to not use magic in his battle, he radiated the pride of the mighty. In addition, he's a very intelligent man. It feels like he's very used to this sort of negotiations."

Even he felt it was surprising.

Osk was a merchant, but the Sorcerer King viewed him as an equal. Under normal circumstances, some nobles would want to establish who was on top, to say nothing of a king.

This was what baffled him.

He could understand it if he had been a trader in the past, but that was impossible. In other words, he was simply adept at negotiations.

"In terms of overall ability, he is comparable to our Emperors."

Of course, he had not read that deeply into him. It was simply that the Sorcerer King frightened him that much.

"No, I should say that he's equivalent to the Bloody Emperor, at the very least."

So at a minimum, he was equal to the greatest Emperor in history. What a nightmare.

Osk shook his head. He would be paralyzed by contemplation if this went on. Of course, he did not want to gaze into the abyss of the Sorcerer King. However, there was one thing he had to do right now.

"...I must inform the Martial Lord of this, and keep him in prime condition from now on."

"Will he agree?"

"He is a warrior. He will not run from a challenge."

"Ho~n. Well, it'd be good if he could win~"

-x-X-x-

[ Part 4 ]

On the day of the match with the Sorcerer King, Osk asked the usual question:

"How are things?

"No problems. I'm in top form."

A gigantic monster answered him.

It was a member of the Troll species of monsters, but one major difference set it apart from them.

That would be the air of a warrior that surrounded it, a mantle which none but those who had survived countless intense battles would be able to assume.

However, that was only to be expected. He was a troll who had adapted to fighting and who had specialized in battle. He was an outstanding individual even amongst the diverse troll species, and he was known as a War Troll.

He was the Martial Lord, the strongest gladiator in the arena.

Osk looked tenderly at that body.

It was true that there were many people who could beat the Martial Lord in terms of martial prowess (strength). Most silver-ranked frontliners in adventurer teams could do that. However, the reason why the Martial Lord could easily defeat such people was very simple.

This was because the bodies of War Trolls were far superior to those of humans, be it in terms of strength or endurance, or in the huge attack radius their massive frames granted them.

In addition, there were the racial abilities he possessed which humans did not.

The first of them was his skin. Wearing a suit of armor over that thick hide of his was sufficient to cause the majority of attacks directed at him to simply bounce off. Granted, one could target the soft-looking and mobile joints but his regeneration presented a formidable barrier to anyone attempting to cripple him via that route.

An attack that would certainly slay a normal human being would not kill a troll. Their astounding regenerative ability caused wounds to seal shut and it could only be stopped by fire or acid.

With this immense biological power on his side, the current Martial Lord was truly the strongest in history.

The warrior that Osk praised as the mightiest donned his armor before the man's eyes.

He had hired adamantite-ranked adventurers to gather the components for that armor, and then had the masterwork result enhanced with magic. At that time, he had sunk about 20% of his assets into that particular project. The club he carried was made of a magical alloy as well, and it had been made in a similar manner.

The Martial Lord put on his magic rings, amulets, and the other components of his panoply.

"―I'm ready."

Those words sounded far more intelligent now than how he had spoken in the past.

Every time Osk saw his majestic frame, his chest grew hot. He was the one who had raised him into this state.

"Then, Martial Lord, let's go."

They walked together to the entrance of the arena. This was a ritual they had always performed.

The Martial Lord remained silent after leaving his room.

His silence was because he had once been excited and looked forward to fighting his foes. Somewhere along the way, it had turned to disappointment in his opponents' abilities. How would it be now?

Suddenly, the Martial Lord stopped in his tracks.

Osk did not recall anything happening like this before.

He began to panic at this unprecedented occurrence, and looked up to ask what was going on. The Martial Lord slowly raised the visor of his armet helm, revealing his face.

"Thank you..."

It sounded as though he was squeezing out that voice.

Osk blinked.

This was only the fourth time he had heard those words of thanks. The previous three times had been when he was given his weapon, his armor, and then when he had fought his best opponent, the previous Martial Lord "Rot Wolf", Krelvo Palantynen.

"What, what's wrong, Martial Lord?"

His eyes stared at the corridor before him.

"Fu, fu."

The Martial Lord's body quivered as he chuckled.

It was the excitement of a warrior.

That was what Osk believed, but it did not seem to be the case.

"What kind of... What kind of challenger is this? No, am I the challenger?"

"Wha-what?"

"Fu, fu... How scary. Osk, I'm shaking in fear."

Osk could not help but doubt his ears.

"This, this must be what living beings call instinct. My legs won't move... It's as though they're telling me that if I go, I'll die, fu, fu."

That was not laughter. He was simply trying to calm his disturbed breathing.

"I heard my opponent was the Sorcerer King, and I wondered what sort of foe he would be... It would seem my arrogance up till now will be repaid in full."

"What are you saying, Martial Lord? What do you mean, arrogance?"

"I am strong."

Osk wanted to reply that there was nothing wrong with the Martial Lord's statement, but the Martial Lord continued before he could say so.

"No, my strength is a lie. It comes from my racial abilities, and it is not actual strength. Still, there are very few people who can contend with me. In particular, ever since I learned to use warrior techniques, I have never tried to understand my challengers' abilities or equipment, in order to create an unfavorable situation for me. There is no other way to train myself. But in the end, I have found a foe which my instincts are screaming at me to run away from. Thank you very much. You have completely fulfilled the agreement we made when you met me."

"Martial Lord... Go Gin."

He had met the Martial Lord about ten years ago.

There had been a rumor on the streets about a monster on the outskirts of the Empire. That monster was very rational, and would not slay a foe who put down their weapons. Osk was interested, and hurriedly set forth from the Empire to meet that bizarre monster. This was because he heard that the greatest power in the Empire, Fluder Paradyne, was on his way to dispatch the monster.

He had been afraid at first. That was only natural. After all, the humans who had encountered him had only survived by chance.

However, the Martial Lord had taken one look at Osk and snorted in disinterest, preparing to leave.

That was why he forgot his fear and asked: "Why are you doing this?"

The answer he got was not quite as articulate as it was now, but it had been along the lines of "I am training to become stronger."

Osk felt the scales fall from his eyes.

Osk had a dream. That dream was to make a strong fighter. It was a dream of raising the ultimate warrior, in order to substitute for his talentless self. However, at that point, he realised that he did not need to limit himself to human beings. No, since nonhuman species were higher-spec to begin with, would that not be the way to make a strong ― the ultimate warrior?

At that point, Osk was not thinking about bringing a monster back. He was scouting someone who might well be the ultimate warrior, the tyrant of the arena, the future Martial Lord.

It had been almost ten years since that fateful encounter. And now, for the first time, he witnessed the Martial Lord shaking in fear.

"Martial Lord―"

Several things popped up in Osk's mind. The first was, "Do you want to forfeit this match?" The risk of death existed within this bout, and Osk could not bear to lose him, the Martial Lord that he had raised until now.

However, he could not bring himself to speak those words.

To the strong, having someone show concern for them was like an insult. For all he knew, those words might shatter the friendship he had built between himself and the Martial Lord.

There was only one thing he could say here.

"―Don't lose, Martial Lord."

"Hmph. What are you saying? I have no intention of losing. All my challengers felt the same way. Everyone stood before me in the hopes of achieving victory. Now, it is simply my turn."

"That's the way!"

Osk slapped the Martial Lord on the back.

"The Sorcerer King is a magic caster, but that would be too boring of a contest. So, I have ruled that both sides cannot use magic. You will not lose to a foe like that."

"...His magic? The Sorcerer King agreed to fight me, even under those conditions?"

"Indeed, and he did so with an attitude which did not even consider the possibility of his defeat."

"Hoh..."

The Martial Lord clenched his fist. It was a fist that called to mind the image of a giant maul.

"The strong are often proud. I shall teach him the foolishness of his ways."

"That's the spirit! However, do not get cocky. The Sorcerer King is the sort of man who can give away jaw-dropping weapons on a whim. In all likelihood, he possesses magic items of awesome power."

Restricting the use of magic items would probably increase the Martial Lord's chances of victory. But that would be too much of a handicap.

"It'll be fine. I now possess the mindset of a challenger. I will not be overconfident. I will not lose because I did not use my full strength."

The Martial Lord took a step forward with a muscular leg, and Osk scrambled to follow.

"Say, could you seriously consider what we talked about earlier?"

The Martial Lord suddenly stopped in his tracks, a look of disgust on his face.

"Earlier... you mean that?"

"Yes, the matter of your wife."

"Why now... Huhaha."

The Martial Lord laughed, and Osk furrowed his brows while he blushed. If you understand, don't act like that!

"Really, can you not cheer me on some other way? How many times must I say this... I will return to my village if I want a wife. You want my partner to be a human, right? Thank you very much, but I'll pass on any humans or whatnot. I'm not into perverted things like that, or rather, any human who would actually want to sleep with me would be absolutely disgusting. What kind of sick fetish would that be, anyway? Besides, you want my child, right? I can't make those with humans."

While it should be possible for humanoids to breed with each other, having children with demihumans was the sort of thing that only existed in stories.

"Well, that's true... That being the case, why not bring your wife back with you? If you need anything to return in triumph, let me know and I'll get it for you."

"...Let me get this out of the way first. We Trolls think of humans as food. My wife might end up calmly eating humans, for all I know."

To Osk, it would be fine if she only ate unnecessary humans. However, he did not say that.

"Is that so. Then bring your child back before he knows the taste of manflesh. If we train him up more intensively, he'll surely be stronger than you are now."

The Martial Lord crinkled his face with a smile.

"Well, that would be interesting. Alright, I will consider that seriously."

-x-X-x-

"Your Majesty, can you really win this?"

Ainz replied to Ainzach's question with the answer he had given countless times:

"It'll be fine."

A person who would take on a hopeless battle was either a true man of courage or an utter fool. This was not a random encounter; the battle had been decided from the planning phases.

Ainz reviewed what he had learned in his mind.

If the Martial Lord was only on the level of the Giant of the East, he would surely be able to win. That said, if he had the same strength as a warrior as Gazef, then after adding up his racial and job class levels, he would be a very tricky foe.

However―

Well, it was a pretty despicable fighting method to begin with. I even asked Fluder for help after that.

Ainz had the ability to completely negate weak attacks. He did not think the Martial Lord would be able to breach that defense. Therefore, Ainz had disabled that particular ability.

Victory was not assured for him.

At that battlefield, Ainz had killed over 100,000 people with magic. In YGGDRASIL, the amount of experience points gained was reduced in accordance to the level difference between both parties, to a minimum of one point. In other words, he should have earned over 100,000 experience points. Coupled with the accumulated experience from before coming to this new world, he should have gotten enough to level up. However, Ainz did not feel that he had levelled up or seen any related phenomena.

In other words, Ainz could not get any stronger, as he had expected.

Still ― he could not be content with that.

If level 100 was the limit, then it could not be helped. However, he was then obliged to fully utilize the power of those 100 levels and refine his skills. If he believed he was the strongest and rested on his laurels, someone might someday surpass him.

Ainz knew that he had a certain amount of strength from being a mage. The skills and abilities he had honed in YGGDRASIL were also effective here. However, he had not practiced his abilities as a vanguard in YGGDRASIL.

I learned a lot from the battle with that woman.

He felt nothing but gratitude for that woman, who had taught him how lacking he was as a frontline fighter.

That battle had sparked the desire in Ainz to improve his close combat ability. Right now, Ainz was confident that in stats, skills and even tactics, he was the equivalent of a level 33 warrior.

This battle with the Martial Lord would be the proof of that. Ainz eagerly looked forward to it.

Ainz looked at his neck.

He did not have the luxury of wearing that any more. During the encounter with the Workers, he did not feel that he had earned much experience or learned any techniques. Honestly speaking, it felt like a waste of effort.

As he thought about that, Ainz recalled a more pressing problem.

Ah~ Jircniv is watching this fight too, right? Why is he here? He wasn't around when I came to check just now. It looks like the illegal border crossing is going to be exposed... Well, I guess I can just apologise for it. If he makes a big deal of it, I'll just ask him if he got the Kingdom's permission when he came to Nazarick and be done with it... I should probably go up and say hello to him. I guess not greeting him will ruin my image in his eyes.

", Your Majesty, it's about time to enter," the man from the arena said as he entered the room to notify Ainz.

They had met several times, but he froze up every time he saw Ainz's true face.

Should I fight while masked? He considered that, but he had gained permission to make a speech after beating the Martial Lord. For all he knew, there might be people in the audience who wanted to become adventurers in the Sorcerous Kingdom. With that in mind, it would be better not to engage in any deceptions.

All he could do was to trust his own choices.

Ainz slowly stepped forward.

Normally speaking, the higher-ranked person ought to enter later. However, Ainz was the challenger in this arena, and was thus the lower-ranking one. Thus, he was obliged to enter first. Of course, Ainz saw it as natural and did not question it.

Ainz smiled to the very worried-looking Ainzach.

It seemed strange that he was more worried than the one who was about to go into battle himself.

"―Don't make me repeat myself, Ainzach. I will not lose."

-x-X-x-

After greeting Jircniv, Ainz returned to the arena.

He had promised not to use magic during the fight, but the fight had not started yet. Surely his opponent would not quibble over something like that.

He didn't seem too angry despite the fact that I crossed the border illegally. Is he going to complain afterwards? Or did he think I entered normally? If that was the case, they might end up hosting some sort of welcome for me, or maybe I'm being too self-conscious... Will he be mad because I directly addressed him as Jircniv?

Ainz mocked his thoughts, and then turned his eyes toward the entrance which faced him.

The Martial Lord had not showed up yet.

Then...

Ainz looked around at the audience in the arena.

A shocked silence ruled the scene. Even the slightest movement was clearly audible.

Well, it can't be helped... No, you people over there, this is not a mask.

Ainz felt his smooth and shiny face. Now he understood. Anyone who could look at this face nonchalantly must be quite brave.

Because of this, my popularity will increase once I get the audience fired up.

While his objective was not to boost his popularity, it was better to have it than not. Plus, if it ended up raising the general opinion of all undead, it would probably improve their opinion of the Sorcerous Kingdom, which controlled many undead.

Ainz gripped the staff in his hand.

As a pure magic caster, Ainz's selection in weapons was very limited, largely to staves, daggers and the like. This time round, he had selected a staff used for physical attacks. It was a weapon he had made as a prototype in YGGDRASIL, but which had ended up unused. Since it was something he had used a long time ago, it was not very strong. Ainz as he was now could probably make a better weapon.

That said, Ainz had not made such preparations.

After considering the difference in strength between himself and the Martial Lord, Ainz had decided to fight him with his present weapon, to see how it ― and the fight ― turned out.

This was the ultimate in foolishness to the YGGDRASIL player Suzuki Satoru, an unforgivable lapse of carelessness. If his friends were nearby, they might rebuke him with a "That won't do~"

However, he had already learned about all of the Martial Lord's magic items from Fluder. Thus, he had to subject himself to these unfavorable circumstances in order to use this as training.

He did not want to show them a one-sided slaughter. Ainz's objective was an overwhelming victory of just the right amount.

"Ladies and gentlemen! From the north entrance! The! Martial! Lord!"

Unlike how they had treated him earlier, the entire arena erupted in cheering. Ainz could hear Jircniv's voice from the VIP room where he had shown his face earlier. The man was screaming as though to break his throat.

...He sounds pretty excited. Does Jircniv really like the Martial Lord that much? The king of the ring seems to be an idol of sorts, so this should be a normal reaction, right? It was the same in YGGDRASIL ― the strong fighters in PVP matches were very popular with the spectators.

As he reminisced about his YGGDRASIL days, Ainz began to pity Jircniv a little.

He'll be shocked when I win. Like a client whose sports team lost...

It weighed on his heart, but he could not throw the match.

A massive shadow appeared from the opposite entrance.

The cheering he thought could not get any louder went up another level, and now it sounded like an explosion.

In all honesty, he wanted a part of that cheering for himself, but he would simply have to claim it with his own strength.

In YGGDRASIL, the voices of the supporters would slowly turn toward the challenger if they did well. In other words if Ainz fought well against the Martial Lord, more and more people would start to support Ainz.

So it seems conditions like these where I hardly have any support are pretty good for advertising myself, no?

He could slowly see the form of the Martial Lord.

He wore a suit of full plate armor, and carried a gigantic club.

As he beheld this walking fortress before him, Ainz's eyes ― the flickering red flames within the empty orbits of his skull ― narrowed into points.

Hm... He looks about the same as the description. That being the case ― no, that would be reckless. I'd better be careful.

According to the information Fluder had supplied, he did not possess any particularly lethal equipment.

However, in YGGDRASIL, some people would prepare a set of identical-looking gear, equipped with completely different data crystals. In PVP matches, small tricks like that improved the chances of victory. Although backup gear was typically weaker than one's main panoply, being able to surprise a foe had effects beyond mere data values.

He could not guarantee that the Martial Lord would not do that.

Ainz took that into consideration as he continued to study the Martial Lord.

He had heard of him before, but seeing the real thing made him think, "No wonder". That was probably what they meant by the saying "seeing is believing". From what Fluder had told him, the creature under that armor looked very similar to the War Troll he had turned into a zombie, but the Martial Lord had a completely different air around him.

One could say it was the difference between a domesticated pig and a wild boar.

"This is... interesting... Interesting?"

Ainz furrowed his eyebrows at his own excitement. He felt the same way as he did then; that this was going to be a good fight. Perhaps he was becoming a battle maniac, given the way he relished combat.

That was not a good sign.

The distance between them shrank. His opponent was the first to speak.

"I am the War Troll Go Gin, known as the Martial Lord."

"I am ―" here Ainz puffed out his chest. "The Sorcerer King, Ainz Ooal Gown, an undead being of the highest order, an Overlord."

"Is that so. Then let us fight with all our strength."

"...Oya?"

Ainz was quite surprised.

There were two things about which he was curious, and he decided to start with the bigger one.

"Aren't you going to make fun of my name?"

"Why?"

"You're asking why...?"

Ainz tilted his head at the counter-inquiry. That was how it had gone back then.

"I seem to recall long names are something to you...?"

"I see. It would seem you do understand my species well, Your Majesty. Indeed, my species considers those with short names to be strong. However, I have lived in this country for many years. During that time, I have learned that humans take long names. Thus, I will not make fun of such things. In addition, I sense that you are quite proud of that name, Your Majesty. Insulting the names of the strong is shameful for a warrior."

"Is that so... It would seem I need to revise my opinion of War Trolls now."

"Fuhahahaha. No need for that. I am merely an outlier. In addition, different species have members with different opinions. That is all."

"...Hahahaha! Indeed. I like you, Martial Lord... If I win, how about I keep you?"

Ainz extended his right hand.

Although it had been rejected back then, the present circumstances were different. The Martial Lord considered the matter, and replied:

"...Alright. If I lose, I will become your subordinate. And if I win?"

"Well, that is a tricky question. What do you want? Name your desire."

"...Then I will have you, Your Majesty."

"...Hah?"

"To date, I have not encountered anyone worth killing for a meal. But if I can eat you, who are stronger than me, I will obtain your powers, Your Majesty."

Ainz calmed down a little. He had heard a lecture from a guildmate about the culture of cannibals. Although they ate people, the motive behind that was the same as the Martial Lord, to obtain the power of the enemy's soul. There were also other reasons for that, like fetishes and so on.

At least it's not sexual. I wouldn't lose from that, but it would feel really gross if someone was looking at me in that way during a fight.

"Alright. After all, the right of life and death rests in the hands of the victor. So even if I kill you, you must not reject the resurrection."

Ainz stepped forward. The Martial Lord assumed a fighting stance for a moment, but then he immediately relaxed.

Ainz advanced with his right hand extended. The Martial Lord returned the gesture, extending his own massive right hand.

This was less a handshake than the Martial Lord's hand swallowing up his own. A great cheer rose from the audience.

"Then, I have another question. Why do you address me respectfully?"

The Martial Lord's attitude was not like a reigning champion greeting a challenger.

"It is only sensible to address the strong with respect."

"I see... Alright, I understand. That's all the questions I have. Let's start. How far apart should we be? Like the distance just now ― about ten meters or so? I will strive to abide by the rules of this arena."

"There are no rules for distance, but it doesn't matter. You'll soon be within my striking range."

"This is a handicap, a handicap."

The Martial Lord did not speak, but nodded to show he understood.

His face could not be seen, but his breathing and actions were calm.

Had he seen through the taunt, or was that not enough to upset him?

Ainz mentally clicked his tongue.

What a troublesome foe. If his emotions were vulnerable, he could play on that, but one could not look down on a vigilant foe, even if they were lower in level.

The Martial Lord turned his back to Ainz, and walked away.

He turned back again after travelling about ten meters.

"Then, we'll start when the bell goes, Your Majesty."

"Right... say, Martial Lord, I've fought your kind before, but have you fought my kind before?"

"Overlords? No, I have not. I've never heard of that undead... species."

"Is that so... Well, that's true. If you met anyone of my kind, you wouldn't be alive to stand here. Overlords are the highest-ranking undead... Then, have you fought any undead before?"

"No, I've never fought the undead. After all, the undead they bring here are obviously no match for me."

"Really now... Then I can't say 'don't think I'm like the other undead you've fought. I'm several times more powerful than an Elder Lich'... What a shame."

The Martial Lord chuckled.

Ainz shrugged, and raised his staff like a greatsword. Ainzach should be watching from behind, but he had not shown him his fighting stance as Momon, so it should be fine.

The Martial Lord raised his gigantic club as well.

The bell went off.

In that instant, Ainz was swallowed up by an enormous black shadow.

Cheh, he's fast!

That was the shadow of a club swinging down.

Block the strike with the staff ― Ainz wanted to do that, but immediately abandoned the notion. While he did not know enough about the enemy, the best thing to do in the face of a big move ― one which was highly damaging ― was to dodge.

Thus, not caring if he lost his balance, Ainz threw himself into evasion.

Ainz managed to dodge by the skin of his teeth. The club slammed into the ground, releasing a thunderous impact that even produced an echo. The smoke and dust it produced gusted up like an explosion.

Worried about any follow-up strikes, Ainz fell back several paces.

After the dust cleared, the shadow of the Martial Lord, club in hand, appeared from within it.

A great cry rose up from the arena.

Was it a martial art? Still... this is pretty exciting.

He could clearly hear Jircniv's shouting his support amidst the ear-splitting cheers. "Get him! He's right there!" and other such childish cries.

Ainz could not help but chuckle as he heard these cries from Jircniv, which were completely unlike him. He could not have imagined him acting like that from all the times he had spied on him in the Imperial City.

...He's an unexpectedly interesting chap...

Ainz's opinion of Jircniv rose rapidly. At first, he had believed that he was a perfect man with the air of an Emperor. However, now that he saw how passionate he was about the match, he felt that he could get along even better with him. Ainz's heart filled with a sense of closeness.

Then, Ainz returned his attention to the Martial Lord.

The Martial Lord was pointing that giant club of his toward him, implying that he would be intercepted if he came close and pursued if he backed off. It was a stance well-suited to pinning down one's opponents.

It was a defensive stance that made full use of his weapon's length, practically turning it into a shield.

In all honesty, Ainz had no clue how to break that stance of his.

This... might be troublesome. It would seem being unable to use magic against an evenly-matched opponent is quite difficult. Well, I am a magic caster, after all...

That being the case , there was only one thing he could do.

"Well? Aren't you coming? Or will you cower there like a turtle?"

"Your Majesty, I will not let my guard down. Even though the rules keep you from using magic, the fact that you could dodge that strike cannot be taken lightly."

"So, you want me to take the offensive? In that case, would you mind moving that club of yours aside? It's kind of in the way and makes it hard to attack."

The Martial Lord did not answer. His keen gaze remained affixed on Ainz through the slits of his helmet's visor.

"Well then... In that case, allow me."

Ainz savagely swung his staff at the tip of the club. The club forcefully struck the ground, as the Martial Lord grunted "Ggh!"

The impact should have been transmitted into the Martial Lord's hands and numbed them. In contrast, Ainz had no such biological functions.

In an instant, Ainz charged into the Martial Lord's attack range.

Ainz sent a mental command to his staff, and flames billowed from it. That said, "billowing flames" simply meant a layer of fire that surrounded the staff. The flames did not constitute an attack in themselves. However, Ainz sensed the Martial Lord's attention shifting from himself to the staff.

That's right. You Trolls have regenerative powers. Thus, it's perfectly rational to be mindful of weapons that negate your regeneration, such as those which can inflict fire or acid damage. However, that is a fatal mistake.

Ainz touched the Martial Lord's armor with his empty left hand. In that moment, the Martial Lord shuddered like he had been electrocuted, making him swing his club without thinking.

"Kuh!"

Ainz failed to dodge, and the sounds of cracking came from his body as he was smashed into the distance. Since he had disabled his High-Tier Physical Immunity and he was weak to bludgeoning attacks, that strike dealt a lot of damage. Ainz's body flew several meters, no, over 10 meters through the air, like a ball struck by a bat.

Then, he hit the ground, tumbling head over heels several times.

Thunderous cheering erupted from the crowd.

Ainz heard Jircniv shouting in delight as he rolled across the ground, and the surge in goodwill he had toward the man dropped swiftly.

Dammit, we're allied countries, aren't we? Shouldn't you be a bit more concerned about the fact that an allied king is down on the ground, huh?

Though he had taken damage, Ainz no longer felt pain, and he peered at the Martial Lord from where he was on the ground.

There was no follow-up attack.

The sounds of cheering gradually died down, replaced by a sense of disquiet that covered the entire arena. Why had the Martial Lord not pressed the attack? No, why was the Martial Lord bending over? What was slowing down the Martial Lord's movements.

Ainz gracefully rose to his feet, dusting himself off. He did not seem at all bothered at being sent flying.

In contrast, the Martial Lord's movements were extremely sluggish.

Ainz chuckled.

This was the best way the show could have gone.

Ainz returned to his original position, amidst a cacophony of noise. The Martial Lord asked in doubt:

"Wh-what is this? Poison... no, what is this?"

"I did not break the rules. This is a proper contest. That said, this is far beyond the word 'poison'. My touch can infuse negative energy into an opponent's body. However, a Troll's regeneration should be able to heal that."

Ainz made the same gesture he used when touching the Martial Lord, opening and closing his fingers.

"However, I have another ability in addition to that. I can inflict physical ability damage by touch. Thus, your strength and dexterity have been reduced. I don't think you can heal that, can you?"

From what Ainz knew, Trollish regeneration could only heal damage, but not the weakening of the body.

"In other words, Martial Lord, the more I touch you, the lower your stats will become, until you end up like a caterpillar."

Naturally, that was a lie.

He could inflict ability penalties on a foe, that much was true, but even that had a limit. He could not reduce stats to zero. Of course, his opponent could not possibly know that.

However, there were other undead with similar abilities, so he could not conclude that his opponent really did not know. He might have been bluffing about not fighting the undead, and he might know something related to them.

That was why Ainz had openly stated the name of his species.

Overlords are a very powerful species, and one which you know nothing about. Once he left that impression in the Martial Lord's mind, he would feel that Ainz's power was mysterious and unfathomable. Ainz had mentioned that he was of the highest order and whatnot to further reinforce that sense of unease.

The most important thing was that he had given an unnecessary explanation to the Martial Lord. That too was to confuse him with false information.

―Broadly speaking, all warfare is based on deception.

Ainz calmly studied the Martial Lord, who did not seem to be recovering from his ability penalties.

This was to see if the Martial Lord was trying to bluff with his actions.

He might have the ability to recover from his ability penalties but chose not to use it, in order to create a fatal flaw in Ainz's defense. He might also have a talent, or some other hidden ability which Ainz knew nothing about.

One could only trample one's foe in an open fight when there was an overwhelming difference in strength.

"...The ability penalties I inflict will not heal with time, you know. I will shave away at your physical stats bit by bit, until I deliver the final blow with this staff, understood? Well, if you do, then let's continue."

Ainz stepped forward, and the Martial Lord slowly took a stance.

He could not see the Martial Lord's face because of his helmet. Was he laughing to himself, or was he growing anxious?

The latter, I hope...

Ainz moved his left hand, the one which was not holding his staff. The Martial Lord shifted in response. It would seem he was very wary of it.

The Martial Lord must be thinking that all he needed to do was worry about the left hand.

That was it. During Ainz's experiments, he found that he could initiate touch attacks with any part of his body. If he felt like it, he could even use a headbutt to do so.

As Ainz got closer, the Martial Lord backed away from him.

Ainz laughed coldly.

From their movements, it was readily apparent to the audience who had the advantage here.

Do you know what the difference between us is, Martial Lord? Indeed, you might be better than me as a warrior. But there is something which decisively sets us apart.

The biggest difference between himself and the Martial Lord was that of their HP.

Ainz had the health of a level 100 character. Even if both parties abandoned defense and engaged in a slugging match, Ainz would emerge victorious.

However, the problem lay in martial arts, those attacks which Ainz did not know about.

"I laid down another restriction on myself besides not using magic. That would concern magic items. I did not use magic items during this bout with you ― in other words, I gave myself an equipment restriction. Still, this is thoroughly beneficial to me."

Ainz possessed numerous magic items from his time in YGGDRASIL. Each and every one of them was a peerless treasure in this world. Thus, if Ainz had used those, he could have easily won his battle with the Martial Lord. However, Ainz did not feel that was the proper way to fight.

Therefore, Ainz was equipped with low-tier items.

"I have restricted myself to using weapons which someone of your level can wield. On the other hand, I feel this is an excellent opportunity to test out a new acquisition."

Ainz plunged his staff into the ground and withdrew two of the four stilettos sheathed at his waist. He gripped them tightly.

"Let's test these weapons I borrowed from Momon."

The Martial Lord probably did not understand Ainz's blathering. Ainz had no intention of enlightening him. He was simply talking to himself.

"Then ― here I come."

Ainz could not imitate that bizarre stance ― that strange crouching start. However, after practice, he had learned to run in a similar way. He shot out like a loosed arrow, toward the Martial Lord.

The distance was very short. Still, even in the brief opening before his opponent's attack, the Martial Lord's club swept across at him. The blow was slowed because his strength had been sapped by ability penalties, but it was a strike that should have connected.

Ainz could not execute a magnificent dodge like that woman. However, Ainz could do something which that woman could not.

He activated his ability, and the Martial Lord's movements halted for a moment.

Ainz closed the gap between them and thrust his stiletto, aiming for the shoulder. That full-power strike, boosted by his running speed, shot out like an arrow.

When she had hit him back then, she managed to damage Ainz's magically-created armor, which was harder than adamantite. This strike was on the same level as that, and the stiletto pierced the Martial Lord's armor and hide, penetrating the Martial Lord's body.

―However, in that moment―

"[Reinforce Hide], [Greater Reinforce Hide]!"

The Martial Lord activated his martial arts.

It was as though he had released something from within his body which pushed back against the tip of the stiletto

The startling thing was that Ainz's full-strength hit only inflicted a tiny amount ― a scratch's worth ― of damage. With Trollish regeneration, that sort of damage would heal within seconds.

The Martial Lord must have felt reassured by this. The club swinging toward Ainz was still very fast, and he had only taken a scratch from Ainz's all-out attack. One could say that victory was at hand for the Martial Lord.

However, that would be a very foolish thing to say.

"―Activate."

"Goh! Gowaaaaaaaaah!!"

He released the spell, channelling the [Fireball] which Fluder had cast into the weapon into the place where he had stabbed the Martial Lord, thus burning his body from within. He thought of plunging his other stiletto into the opposite shoulder, but he was not strong enough, and the armor deflected it.

As Ainz thought of targeting a chink in his armor, Ainz sensed movement from the Martial Lord and dashed to the side without looking.

A gale blew from behind him. It must have been the wind pressure from that club.

After fleeing for about 10 meters, Ainz turned back.

The Martial Lord was grabbing at his shoulder with the arm holding his club. His other arm dangled beneath him, probably immobile. It would seem Fluder's spell was a little too strong. Perhaps he should have asked for a weaker magic caster to infuse it with magic.

After realising the Martial Lord was in dire straits, the crowd wailed in sympathy.

Ainz looked around the arena.

No matter where he looked, he could not see anyone cheering for him.

How strange... In YGGDRASIL, it wouldn't be unusual for someone to start cheering for me at this point... I guess away matches are hard.

"It can't be helped. I guess I'll have to abandon the plan of seizing the audience's heart. Now then, Martial Lord... time to die."

Ainz sheathed the stiletto whose magic was expended and drew another one. This new stiletto was imbued with a 3rd-tier acid-element attack spell. He had prepared this in case the Martial Lord had rendered himself immune to fire damage.

Granted, the Martial Lord looked like he had been hurt by that fire-elemental spell, but that might have been an act. Regenerating monsters could not completely resist attacks which shut down their regeneration, but that was only for YGGDRASIL.

For all he knew, it might be possible in this world.

If that was the case, his plan was to kill him by activating his skill when the audience ― when everyone ― could see that victory had been decided.

"If you admit defeat now... I'll end things here."

"No... Your Majesty. Not... not yet. I am still the Martial Lord. I am still the king of this arena. I will struggle until I die."

"Then, take off your helmet and let me see your face."

It was a surprising request, but the Martial Lord complied, and showed his face.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his face was twisted by what was probably intense pain. Yet, there was great strength in those eyes.

"Those are good eyes. They remind me of Gazef Stronoff."

"Thank you. Being praised by a mighty being like yourself fills me with joy."

"...Tell me. Do you have any moves which can beat me? Do you have any moves which can turn the tide?"

"―I do not. Even so, I still wish to fight."

They were very honest words.

Ainz felt ashamed of using so many bluffs in this fight. In addition, there were all the abilities he had sealed off to make this a good match.

Since his opponent was fighting in earnest, Ainz was obliged to respond with everything he could do, within the range of what he was allowed to do.

The Martial Lord, who had come straight at Ainz, seemed to shine in his eyes.

"What would the Guardians think of the light in those eyes..."

Still, he knew that they would scorn any being that was not of Nazarick. If that was the case ― unease and loneliness filled Ainz.

Ainz cast aside these emotions, and slowly raised his stilettos.

The Martial Lord wiped off his sweat with his forearm, and put his helmet back on.

"―Come at me, Martial Lord."

"Gooohhhhhhh!"

With a roar, his vast body pressed in on Ainz.

He was faster than just now. Perhaps he had activated a martial art.

That incredible speed and that immense body ― the two of them synergized to produce an overwhelming sense of oppression that would freeze any foe in place. No, that would apply to normal people, but the undead were immune to such mental effects.

Ainz calmly studied the Martial Lord.

He was fast ― but that was all.

His balance was off, probably because the shoulder pierced by the stiletto was unable to move.

―Worse than that time.

More importantly―

Do you know the truth behind how I slowed you down? If you don't know, it'll be over for you, no?

Ainz activated the same ability from just now.

[Despair Aura I (Fear)]

This ability had five effects.

I was for Fear.

II was for Panic.

III was for Confusion.

IV was for Insanity.

V was for Instant Death.

Fear referred to an abnormal status of being afraid, which inflicted a penalty to all actions.

Panic was a more severe version of Fear, caused by stacking additional Fear effects on each other. Anyone afflicted by that status would want to flee the ability user at all costs ― in other words, they would be unable to take any combat-related actions against that person.

Confusion was as the name suggested. Without any recovery measures, the target would be in a state of confusion.

Insanity was an extremely annoying bad status, being a permanent version of Confusion. It could not be removed without magic from a third party.

And it went without saying that Instant Death caused death.

The effects changed as one's level increased.

Ainz had used the Fear effect first, and then cancelled it almost instantly afterward. By doing so, there would be a moment where the actions one imagined did not match up to the actual actions taken, and thus the body would feel as if it had been paralyzed.

However, the Martial Lord had anticipated that this would happen if he tried a frontal attack. Even after his mind and body went out of sync, he still swung his club.

After factoring in the combined penalties Ainz's touch and the fear status, evading the Martial Lord's attack should have been child's play. However―

"[Strong Strike], [Divine Skill Single Flash]!"

Ainz thought he saw a flash of light.

In that instant, intense pain ― immediately suppressed to tolerable levels ― and a floating sensation filled him.

"[Flow Acceleration]!"

A dull impact came from above, followed by a burst of pain in the next moment.

Although he was briefly confused by the situation, Ainz quickly came to his senses.

This was probably a two-hit combo. The first part launched Ainz into the air, while the second smashed him down into the ground.

If he was Suzuki Satoru, he might not have been able to grasp the situation and fallen into confusion. However, Ainz Ooal Gown was immune to such bad statuses.

Ainz knew that he was down on the ground, and that the club was coming down on him.

"Cheh!"

Ainz flipped away just as the club struck. Perhaps it was because of a martial art, but the impact flowed through the ground and into Ainz's body.

However, this did not deal any additional damage.

As Ainz leapt, the club that buried itself in the ground sprang up. That move, like dredging up something from the depths, seemed to say "I'll finish you with this".

Ainz made a split-second decision to block the strike with his stiletto, and Ainz's body sailed through the air once more. The audience's cheers rang through the arena, but the Martial Lord bitterly cursed, "Dammit!" He had been hoping to finish off Ainz with that combination attack.

After being knocked several meters through the air, Ainz tumbled a few times on the ground and then swiftly regained his stance as he muttered about himself.

"Nothing to turn the tide? He tricked me. Punitto Moe would scold me for this."

Much like Ainz, the Martial Lord had saved his trump card ― his martial arts ― until the final moment. That proved he was a first-rate warrior.

Ainz sheathed one of his stilettos, freeing up a hand.

His arrogance and haste to seize victory had earned him a hard blow ― no, two of them. It was time to discard his naive thinking. He would cut his opponent's stats down to size before ending things.

How noisy...

The audience's cheers were really annoying. They had just been wailing, and now they were rejoicing. Especially―

―Dammit, Jircniv! What the hell do you mean, "finish him?!" Ah, seriously...

Ainz moved slowly. He had not been severely injured, but he had been punished for his carelessness with pain, so he would not make that sort of mistake again.

Still, I really don't get martial arts. These are skills which don't exist in YGGDRASIL... did someone develop them to counter YGGDRASIL players? Or am I just trying to force a theory here...? Hang on, that martial art should have been something which increased attack speed. He'll probably try that again, so I'd better prepare my body for it, no?

(TL Note: Once again Ainz seems to have misremembered a saying, 肉を切らせて骨を断つ, to prepare your flesh to be cut and your bones to be broken. Of course, he has no flesh...)

Ainz entered the Martial Lord's reach, and the Martial Lord swung down. Yet Ainz did not evade.

He advanced, taking the Martial Lord's attacks.

The pressure and pain filled him, but he could do this, given the huge difference in their HP. It was fine. In addition, his undead body immediately suppressed his pain, so he could bear agony which the living could not endure.

In this way, Ainz touched the Martial Lord's body. Having just finished an attack ― and being under the influence of the fear status from Ainz's aura ― it was quite difficult to evade it.

Then, he maintained contact with the Martial Lord's body and circled around to his back. Of course, he was continuously infusing the ability-damaging negative energy through his armor.

"Uooooooooh!"

This time, it was the Martial Lord who backed away from him, as though rolling along the ground.

Ainz was puzzled over whether or not to pursue, but decided to stay still, in case of some hidden move.

The Martial Lord ponderously raised his weapon. His breathing was ragged, and his imposing demeanor from when they had first met was gone.

Ainz gripped his stilettos tightly.

The preparations were complete. This would be the final strike.

Perhaps he had sensed the change in the air, but the Martial Lord removed his helmet and cast it aside.

As surprise began to fill Ainz, the Martial Lord shed the rest of his armor as well. While he was currently weakened, it did not seem to be at a level where he was unable to move due to the weight of his armor.

However, after seeing the determination on the Martial Lord's face, Ainz understood his plan.

I see. Armor protects against the stilettos, but it does nothing against ability penalties. He must feel quite threatened by it, which is why he's gambling on his foe's HP being low and lightening the load on his body, just so he can continue attacking.

That was his final ― and also a very disadvantageous ― gamble.

"Tell me... Am I weak?"

"What?"

"Your Majesty. you have not revealed a fraction of your true power until now. Even without the mighty wings of your magic, this is clearly not taxing you. Am... Am I really that weak?"

Ainz closed his eyes in thought, and then he opened them again.

"Yes, you are weak."

"...Is that so."

The arena fell silent.

Ainz's voice had not reached them. However, the victory was already decided in their eyes.

"During this battle, I forbade myself the use of many magic items and the use of all sorts of abilities."

"Otherwise, you would have ended this in an instant?"

Ainz nodded in confirmation.

"Just so. However, I know about you, so―" Ainz shook his head. This was not meant to comfort him. "Well, you just had a bad opponent. If you are the strongest man in the Empire... I may well be the strongest man in the world."

"I see... Still... I am glad. Knowing that someone is better than me is what drives me to improve."

"I do understand that, to some extent."

There were some of his friends ― for instance, Touch Me ― whom he had never beaten in PVP. Even so, he looked back fondly on how he had pondered the ways to beat his tactics and equipment.

Ainz smiled to the Martial Lord, and the Martial Lord smiled to Ainz.

"...Then, make your move."

"―Your Majesty, Sorcerer King Ainz Ooal Gown. At the very end, please show me ― even if it is just a fraction ― of your true power. Allow me to experience the zenith of might!"

The Martial Lord forcefully brandished his weapon.

"Really now... Very well. Then I shall reveal the pinnacle of power to you."

Ainz activated his skill, and strode forth.

He entered the Martial Lord's attack range. The Martial Lord swung down.

It was completely different from the speed at which he had raised it. He might have used martial arts to accelerate it. Still, it was nothing compared to the speed before he had his abilities penalized. It was far too slow.

The club swung down on Ainz's body, but Ainz paid it no heed.

The attack could no longer harm Ainz's body.

Ainz walked through it, as though caressed by a gentle wind.

He took blow after blow, but Ainz continued advancing, looking straight into the Martial Lord's eyes.

The Martial Lord smiled, as though giving up. Ainz plunged his stiletto into the Martial Lord's unresisting chest, and then released the spell imbued within.

-x-X-x-

Ainz looked down on the Martial Lord's corpse.

Then, he activated a borrowed magic item. It was a simple loudspeaker.

"Hear me! People of the Empire! I am the Sorcerer King, Ainz Ooal Gown!"

His voice seemed to echo with a high-pitched whine of feedback amidst the silence. Thus, Ainz decided to wrap this up quickly.

"I intend to establish a program to train and raise adventurers within my country. This is because I consider it advantageous for my country to both cultivate and protect adventurers, and send them travelling to various places in the world. Many adventurers must survive with their own resources. But how many have been cut down before they reached their prime?"

Ainz recalled the adventurer team he had travelled with for a short time.

"...Therefore, I intend to incorporate the Adventurer's Guild into my nation. There are those who fear that they will lose their freedom and be shackled down once the Adventurer's Guild becomes a national organization. I cannot completely rule that out. However, like I have just shown, my strength is more than adequate. I do not intend to use you as tools for war. The Sorcerous Kingdom thirsts those who truly seek adventure! All you who wish to explore the unknown, who wish to understand the world and thus dream of becoming adventurers, come to me! I will help you stand on your own, with the aid of power you cannot imagine. Now behold a fraction of that might!"

Ainz walked over to the Martial Lord.

"The Martial Lord is dead! Who will verify his death?"

There was no answer.

"Death is the end of everything. Yet ― as some here might know, death can be fought off."

Ainz withdrew a wand, and pointed it at the Martial Lord's chest.

It would be terribly embarrassing if he did not come back to life. His nonexistent heart pounded within his chest.

"Witness this!"

The wand activated, and then the Martial Lord gasped. Then, his chest began moving.

"Resurrection magic is the province of high-level priests. However, it is not a challenge for me! That said, the appropriate payment in gold must still be made! I, who have conquered death, shall back you up! Come to my nation, you who seek to become true adventurers!"

Amidst the tides of sound, Ainz cast a [Fly] spell.

His destination was Jircniv's VIP room.

Glancing around, he noticed that only Jircniv and his two bodyguards were left. The others seemed to have departed early. Ainz was delighted at having less to worry about, but he said nothing.

"Well, sorry about that just now, Jircniv-dono. Oya, your face looks better now. What a relief."

His dizziness when standing up seemed genuine. However ― since he had been cheering so energetically, it must have only been for a moment.

"I apologize for worrying you, Gown-dono."

"Ahhh, don't mind it. Anyone would be worried if they saw someone they knew looking unwell."

"Thank you for your concern. Still, that was an exciting match. As expected of you, Gown-dono. To think you could triumph so easily over the Empire's strongest warrior. There are no words for that but 'magnificent'."

"Certainly not. This was a good bout. It could have gone both ways; I simply had luck on my side."

Given the way Jircniv was cheering for the Martial Lord, he must have been a big fan. That being the case, he could not go wrong by praising the Martial Lord.

Or rather―

―Damn you, you didn't cheer for me at all. I heard it!

Of course, he could not voice these thoughts. When one thought calmly about it, in a battle between the warriors of one's own nation and that of another country, it was only natural for one to cheer for one's own countrymen.

Well, if he had actually cheered for Ainz, his affection meter ― a phrase Peroroncino frequently used ― would probably have gone through the roof.

"While outsiders might not be able to tell, I am sure you are not mistaken, Gown-dono. Then, next ― forgive me. What am I saying at this time?"

"Indeed," Ainz agreed. Put in another way, he did not wish to be chatting with Jircniv for so long in a place like this.

He did not want him to realize that Ainz Ooal Gown was just a mortal man.

Although he thought he would be scolded for promoting the Sorcerous Kingdom in the arena and for his illegal border crossing, Jircniv did not seem to want to rebuke him. That being the case, it was best for him to quickly make his exit.

"Well, that's―" Ainz swallowed the informal words he was about to speak. That would be like digging his own grave. "Let us end things here for now. I shall come to visit another day, Jircniv-dono."

Personally, Ainz wanted to escape with teleportation magic, but he had to go pick up Ainzach first. So he would return to the ground, and then teleport away ― and then, as he was pondering that matter, Ainz realized that Jircniv was staring at him, a serious look on his face.

He was definitely going to say something weird.

This situation was familiar to any salaryman. Ainz turned to look at Jircniv.

"Your Majesty. I have a proposal. May I prevail upon you to hear it?"

No. How wonderful would the world be if he could say that?

Ainz decided not to run away from reality. He smiled ― although his face did not move ― and replied with a "Do continue."

"Then, I hope ― no, the Baharuth Empire would like to become a vassal state of the Sorcerous Kingdom of Ainz Ooal Gown."

"...Hah?"

Ainz could not help but exclaim at those thoroughly unexpected words.

His brain had not yet parsed what he had just heard.

"Vas― a vassal state?"

His guards ― both of whom he had seen before ― were also staring in shock.

For some reason, Ainz felt like patting Jircniv on the forehead.

Why had he suddenly requested vassal status? Come to think of it, what sort of relationship did vassal states have, anyway? He recognized the word, but what exactly did it mean? Then there was all that self-governing stuff and so on.

Ainz could not decide something important like that by himself. He would need to discuss this matter with Demiurge and Albedo first before giving an answer.

"...Jircniv-dono, taking your nation as a vassal state..."

So the plan of forming a bond of friendship between kings is... eh?

What should he say about the vassal state issue? Would it be alright to go with "I had not considered it"?

However, Demiurge and the others might have intended to vassalize the Empire. He did not wish to put his own head in a noose, and yet it might be troublesome to leave it unaddressed.

It would seem the best option was to bluff his way through, somehow.

After deciding on the direction his words would take, Ainz made his reply.

"It is too dangerous to verbally agree on such matters. I cannot make an immediate reply, but I believe such issues should be set down in writing."

"Then, does it mean that once I hand the document to you, you will approve of it?"

Eh? There's seriously going to be one? Ainz thought of asking that, but he managed to swallow those words. It was probably because he had calmed down somewhat. The truth was, he was no longer perturbed as he had been just now. He could not thank this body of his enough.

Still, the problem was yet to be solved.

That's not what I meant, I'm just stalling for time. Since he could not speak those words, he had to think of something that Jircniv could accept. There was no other way.

"...Certainly. Then, do send a copy of the petition for vassalage as well as a draft of the Empire's future status and treatment to my residence in the Sorcerous Kingdom, Jircniv-dono. After that, we shall plan at length."

"Then I shall do so. I will endeavour to finish it swiftly and deliver it to Your Majesty's hands. ―Then, for the time being, please allow me to speak to you as a king ― as an equal. I shall be in your care."

Although his emotional state had calmed down, Ainz still had no idea what was going on and why the situation had ended up like this. He simply nodded in response.

Then, trying not to appear too panicked, Ainz descended onto the arena with a [Fly] spell.

"How did it all end up like this? Or rather, what would Demiurge and Albedo do...?"

Ainz rounded his shoulders, like a child who was certain he would be scolded by his parents when he got home.

-x-X-x-