Chapter 8

The air was thick with motes of dust, illuminated by thin shafts of light streaming through the narrow windows. The smell of aged parchment and ink filled the stone halls, mingling with the tranquil crinkling of pages being turned and the quills scratching with purpose. The stone hall provided a useful respite from the hot morning sun.

Ainz and Buku settled into the abbey's library, a sanctuary of knowledge in the local region, eager to find out as much as they could about the world they now inhabited. While Ainz was skimming through the tomes detailing the world's history, his eyes rapidly absorbing the history of the empires and the legends of venerable heroes and disastrous villains, Buku poured over a training manual of various specializations, one after the other.

In the background, a group of monks diligently copied books by hand, their robes whispering against the floor as they shifted from place to place. The librarian, a man named Brother Paxton, bustled about, ensuring everyone had what they needed, from more paper to water. He had provided Ainz with all the books he requested on the topic and was now dusting the nearby shelves, careful not to disturb the precious volumes holding both new and old knowledge.

Curious about the determined manual labor of copying books by hand, Ainz asked Brother Paxton why printing presses weren't more widely used. The answer turned out to be rather simple yet surprising for the two former humans used to high transmittance of information; due to the overall low level of education among the populace, there wasn't much incentive to use the printing press for mass-produced books, and the higher-ups had invested little in raising that level to keep power consolidated. It then came as a surprise that the technological level widely differed between regions. The most primitive races still lived in practically tribal societies, with the one they were in somewhere in the middle, while the most advanced ones like the gnomes hoarded technological marvels with machines closer to science fiction than medieval times.

As much as technology was a concern, there wasn't much he could do about it right now even if a small part of him nagged at him to take action. He could only hope that this world didn't suffer the same fate as Earth did when technological advancement became a global matter and caused hell for those not born into heaven. However, there was one huge difference between the world called Azeroth and Earth: magic. Guns, which had dominated Earth's battlefields, were far less effective here. Mana shields could deflect bullets, and armor enchanted to repel projectiles would render most advanced weapons useless. Perhaps only the strongest guns would be able to take down any proper magician or magic-wielding beast.

Also, the strength and physical prowess of people widely differed between races and even within races. Renowned champions performed feats that far surpassed what Earth's best athletes could achieve, empowered by magic and superior equipment. Heroes and warriors could leap great distances in seconds, shatter boulders with a single strike of their palms or swords, and endure huge wounds that would be fatal to an, otherwise, ordinary human.

Ainz was in a conundrum, there was so much he needed to know yet a lot of information was either outdated or unreliable in some shape or form. The last three decades alone had seen three major wars, each reshaping the world to a great degree that rendered many records useless. History books only covered human nations, many of which no longer existed. It seemed futile to memorize the name of the first human king or how he united the human tribes into a powerful kingdom. The slow pace of information travel and recording only hindered this, meaning crude maps could be outdated by upwards of years.

From what Ainz could gather, the first war started when orcs, creatures originating from another world, managed to find their way to Azeroth through a magical portal. Their invasion nearly wiped out the humans altogether, the scale and ferocity of the war were staggering, to say the least for humanity. He envisioned the scenes described; towering orcish brutes, their muscles rippling, leathery skin, charging through the portal with war cries that shook humanity to the core. Human defenders stood to oppose them; knights in shining armor held the line with unwavering resolve, mages casting spells that lit up the battlefield.

The second war saw the remaining human kingdoms forging an alliance with high elves, dwarves, and gnomes. Together, they pushed back against the green-skinned, demon-worshiping invaders who, in turn, enlisted more races into their ranks, forming the horde. Orcs, a powerful warrior race that had been fleeing their dying planet through dark magics guided by their depraved warlocks, formed the bulk of this horde. Their arrival was like a storm, their axes cleaving through any resistance in their way. Alongside them came the ogres, towering behemoths eleven feet tall, even stronger than the orcs, but most of them were dulled and barely capable of coherent speech. The last were the Azeroth native trolls, a cannibalistic and warlike race with great regenerative abilities.

This continent-encompassing war filled with bloodshed and valor ended in the total defeat of the horde as the alliance managed to pull through by the skin of their teeth. The remaining orcs were put in internment camps, defeated and broken. Things changed little for two decades, the world saw a fragile peace many hoped would last longer than it did. At least until a young orc named Thrall rose from the ashes of his people's despair. He liberated the orcs from their imprisonment and led them across the sea, away from the human kingdoms, abandoning the main continent entirely.

Then the third war started, ripping apart the alliance. First, the undead outbreak quickly decimated the northern human kingdoms, turning the once vibrant lands into barren wastelands of death and decay few dared to traverse. The threat of the undead scourge then grew to threaten all living beings in Azeroth, forcing the rest to ally together once more. Yet this was merely the first part of the conflict, as a massive demon army called the Burning Legion invaded, nearly destroying the world in the process. The skies darkened with their arrival, storms of hellfire scorching the lands they traversed through. Their leader, a powerful demonic lord named Archimonde, was hellbent on obliterating the entirety of the world of Azeroth for some reason they never learned of. The world was on the edge of annihilation until the final battle on the newfound continent called Kalimdor, home to an ancient race of the enigmatic Night Elves, occurred. They too, with their deep connection to nature, joined the alliance and horde in the last struggles of life. Ultimately, the night elves sided with the Alliance after the war once the old conflict tore the fragile peace to bits and pieces.

The abbey's library, with its dust motes and aged parchment, seemed to whisper these tales of destruction and valor into his mind, the refined tranquility of the stone halls a juxtaposition to the utter chaos described in the ancient texts. There was still so much to learn, and Ainz tried to find out more about these recalls of events, but there wasn't much to go on with. The gaps in the historical records were frustrating, leaving a fragmented picture with much to be desired. What exactly happened in Kalimdor and how the Burning Legion was defeated wasn't documented in any book found in this library. In short, there was almost no record of the complete political situation of the world, nor could Brother Paxton offer anything after some polite inquiring.

From what Ainz could piece together, the Alliance held large parts of the Eastern Kingdoms and only had a presence on Kalimdor through the Night Elves, whose ancient lands lay in the northern part of the continent. Meanwhile, the Horde partly dominated vast parts of Kalimdor and held the northern part of the Eastern Kingdoms. The fate of the high elves, former alliance members who had split away during the third war, remained a mystery, their history lacking in the tomes he could get his hands on. Even Brother Paxton didn't know where they could possibly find information about them.

The only relevant information he got was that the former King of Stormwind had disappeared in the sea and been declared dead, his ten-year-old son crowned shortly after. Which made it clear that the nation was now run by nobles as the child king was unlikely to make any political decisions, let alone sweeping changes to the kingdom to restore his power.

Stormwind itself was a rather typical feudal monarchy, with nobility controlling most of the wealth and political decisions. There was little information on the current state of affairs for a rather obvious reason: information didn't travel as fast and likely any news came far too late to a remote corner like Northshire. And any that did would have probably been filtered by the nobility to keep the peasants dumb.

Resigned to an incomplete research, Ainz finally gave up and turned his attention to a few books on the basics of magic he had been supplied. Although Ainz found no new spells to use, he gained valuable insights into how magic was used in this world and thus how he could disguise his abilities and further empower himself. When it came to the arcane, its source was the very air with energies coming from the immaterial realm of twisting nether, suffused with mana drawn from the magical ley lines crisscrossing the land. Mages then tapped into these veins of power, channeling the energy to cast their magical spells.

It mostly was the same case with elemental magic. It wasn't merely about drawing power from the elements, but about invoking the spirits that embodied them and having them do the summoner's bidding. To summon the storm or the wind, one had to call upon the respective elemental spirits, beseeching their aid to harness their boundless power for the summoner's benefit. Ainz pondered over the nuances of elemental magic; this intricate dance between a mage and an elemental spirit added a layer of complexity to spellcasting that Ainz found both interesting and challenging, especially considering a good portion of his magical arsenal involved summoning.

His thoughts drifted to the myriad possibilities such power could offer, if mages in this world invoked elemental spirits for their spells, what tasks could one accomplish with those elementals and what was the theoretical maximum limit a person or spell could push? Fire spirits held great potential in battle, earth spirits could be invaluable for construction and agriculture; the practicality to this magic where one could have others do the magic for you could prove to be extended far beyond his wildest dreams if certain conditions could be met.

Meanwhile, Buku had finished the book on common warrior abilities, particularly knights and soldiers, and had shifted her focus to investigating the various religions of this world and their histories. They chatted through the message function, sharing the most important or interesting tidbits of information.

Unlike her husband, who read in contemplative silence, Buku preferred a more interactive approach. She chatted up with Brother Paxton, the librarian, with his stoic demeanor gradually softening as he shared his knowledge, to gain more direct information.

"So humans and dwarves worship the Light itself and not a particular deity?" She inquired, her curiosity piqued as she played up the "from a faraway land and thus has no clue about religions beyond rumors of this continent" persona.

"Yes. The Holy Light is all-encompassing. Light is the source of everything, from the smallest blades of grass to the mightiest trees. We pray for guidance and blessing, and the Light usually answers when prayers are sincere. It doesn't discriminate, shining upon us all, no matter rich or poor, young or old, sinner or saint," Paxton explained.

Buku nodded thoughtfully, absorbing his words with a heavy dash of salt. The Light, in its purity, seemed to envelop everything, a boundless force of benevolence for all those who believed in it. A divine power that touched all corners of existence without bias or judgment.

"That is interesting. But how does it work? A trained priest just prays for results and it just happens?" Buku continued the questioning.

Brother Paxton's tranquil smile deepened, "Anyone can pray and receive. We, the more dedicated ones, have attuned our minds to the service of others, and thus our prayers get answered more often, but theoretically, anyone could do so." Paxton paused, his eyes glowing with the fervor of his faith as he spoke, his hands gesturing subtly as if to encompass the very essence of light. "We are but attuned instruments through which holy lights work its miracles."

"I see. And how would I go about it if I wanted to try connecting with this light?" Buku's curiosity peaked. This force seemed to work similarly to one in the virtual game, providing blessing and healing to the living through similar methods. Ainz, as an undead, at least in theory, wouldn't be able to wield it properly, but she might under the right conditions. Of course, she might be greatly mistaken, as both of them were technically Supreme Beings and, as Artemel stated, would be able to use all types of power, Light likely being among them.

"Praying. Here, this simple prayer book should be enough." Paxton pulled out a worn prayer book from his pocket and offered it to Buku, assuring her he always had more.

Buku accepted the small book and quickly flipped through the pages. Her mind, sharper than before, absorbed entire pages within seconds, her previous human limitations gone with her previous life. 'Hmm, if I understand it correctly, I need to believe that the Light will do what I want, and since I know it works, I don't even need to believe.'

Watching Leoroy cast spells had already shown her that the light wasn't a made-up religious concept, but a real, tangible force. Perhaps prayer was just how this world's inhabitants manipulated this magic-like power.

"Sounds easy enough, I want to try it." She handed the book back to the cleric, her eyes gleaming with determination.

Paxton watched her with a knowing smile, as if sensing her intent. "Remember, the Light is patient and kind, it will guide you gently revealing its truths in due time."

"To connect with the Light is a noble aspiration, but please don't lose hope if it doesn't respond to your calls immediately. Open your heart to the Light and believe," Paxton continued to preach, his voice gentle.

"Thank you for the advice. Do you have any other tips?" Buku encouraged the cleric to reveal more, eager to gather every shred of information she could.

"Being in sunlight helps. At least for me. It provides a more tangible connection. There is a spot behind the abbey that all the beginner clerics like to use, but any sunny area could work, this one is merely quiet most of the time."

"Great. Can you show me where it is?" Buku inquired.

"Of course. Please follow me." Paxton replied, gesturing gracefully towards the door as he put down his duster.

{ I'll go outside and try using light. If it works like it did in Yggdrasil, I wouldn't want to hit you by accident. } Buku sent Ainz a message before departing from the library alongside Paxton.

{ Be careful and don't overdo it. Remember that Artemel told us we should be able to use all types of energies, light likely won't be an exception, and we've already revealed too much about our power levels. Taper it down if possible. } Ainz cautioned.

The first fight with the Kobolds had revealed just how high on the totem pole they likely were among the humans. Even without as much as straining themselves, they were already compared to human champions that, supposedly, fought the strongest of monsters found in Azeroth.

{ I know. I'll be careful and only use the most basic prayer. I doubt I'll manage to do much on the first try, but we'll never know until I try it. }

Bathed in the soothing warmth of the sunlight, Buku and Paxton made their way to the spot behind the abbey. A sunny spot marked by a large stone plate half buried in the ground, the air particles glittering in the beam. It was easy to see that this place was used by praying clergymen, so often their knees left indelible dents worn smooth into the solid stone, coupled with the occasional dropped knickknack or two.

Buku got on her knees, clasped her hands together, and lowered her head. She began to recite the prayer of fortitude she had just memorized, her voice but a soft murmur carried on the gentle breeze.

Nothing happened. Buku looked up at Paxton questioningly, concerned.

"Do not lose hope," Paxton advised gently, his voice seemingly carrying the wisdom of longtime experience. "I recited this prayer hundreds of times before receiving my first blessing. You have to believe in the light with all your heart and mind, and eventually, it will come to you."

'I know it works.' She thought resolutely, steeling herself for another attempt. She closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun on her face, and recited the prayer again. Yet still, there was no effect she could notice.

Paxton watched her with a serene patience, watching yet another possible believer attempting to join the faith. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow around them, as if nature itself held its breath in anticipation.

After five total unsuccessful attempts, Buku decided that a new approach was needed. Insanity was doing the same thing and expecting different results, and she still had her wits with her. If the Light responded to belief, then she would not only believe, she would go a step beyond. There was some advice a lot of voice actors and actors, in general, relied on, and it was the "fake it until you make it" mentality. You didn't just try to get roles and act them out from the get-go. You did it with the conviction of a megalomaniac and pushed forward with near-delusional self-assurance.

She would not just pray. She would be absolutely convinced in her ability to call for the Light that it would work. Buku took a deep breath and broke into a confident smirk. Repeating the words in her mind, not as a plea, but as an absolute order, that she was one of those who had full belief in the Light and knew, without uncertainty, that it would respond.

The moment she uttered the last word within her mind, a warmth unlike anything she had felt before washed over her body. It wasn't just warmth - it was a profound sense of empowerment, coursing through her being from head to toe. She felt her body easing up, ready to face all the hardships of the world and serve as a stalwart defender of the realm with all her might and devotion.

Buku sprang to her feet exclaiming "I did-"

The light continued pouring into her. No, it wasn't pouring in. It emanated from within, from the deepest recesses of who she was. And she felt a surge of it rising, magnitudes above what she currently felt, fast.

"I-" Buku began again, trying to comprehend the spectacle unfolding.

Before she could finish, an absolute eruption of light burst forth from her entire body, radiant and unstoppable like an avalanche of belief and devotion. Her immediate reaction was to warn the one person she truly cared about as she panicked.

{ Shield yourself! } she urgently messaged Ainz, realizing the avalanche of holy light outpouring could harm him just by the sheer output she was feeling.

{ What did you do? I… ngh! } Ainz replied, his message cut short by a grunt of pain as another explosion of holy light burst forth from Buku, spreading in all directions, blessing everything in its path - humans, animals, and plants - with the prayer of fortitude. This simple blessing gave that little extra to carry on against all odds or the limits of the body for a short while, but with her abilities, who knew what it would do.

{ Ainz!? } Buku panicked, her concern evident.

{ I am fine. What did you do? } Ainz responded, clearly not amused at her antics.

{ I attempted to perform the most basic prayer. } She sheepishly responded.

{ Basic prayer? } Ainz sounded unconvinced. He knew as a mage you'd need to input a lot of magical power to overload basic spells, hence why most just went for more efficient spells to achieve the same results, even if it had a superficially higher upfront cost.

{ Yea. I just really really believed in myself. I might have tad overdone it though. The forest is glowing. } She spoke in a small voice, akin to a child about to be scolded.

<X >

The light hit him like a speeding truck, an experience he had seen happen to many an unfortunate pedestrian. Ainz groaned in pain but quickly clamped his mouth shut, suppressing any outward signs of weakness as the light washed over him.

Luckily, it became clear that clerics didn't pay any attention to him, too enraptured by Buku's unexpected display as they quickly rushed outside, loudly praising the virtues of the Light. At most, they probably thought his groan just so happened to coincide with the Light, given how many of themselves did the same when mistakes were made when copying books.

He cast a protective shield and followed them, his mind racing with questions for Buku to answer. She had reassured him that she had only attempted the most basic prayer, and there was no reason for her to lie to him.

'It is now safe to assume that Artemel has made us so powerful we can barely contain the energies within us, threatening to burst out of us at any moment akin to an overloaded magical pop monster. I should've warned Buku not to be so reckless.' Despite her claim of casting the most basic light spell, the magnitude of the energy release baffled him, having seemingly ripped through space itself to spread as far as possible in all directions, even things covered by walls and people.

He hurriedly caught up to Buku and the clerics, battling the residual effects of the holy energies coursing through him. Luckily, he had shielded himself enough to prevent visible damage to his visage form, and much of the internal damage was already solidly in the process of repairing itself.

{ What in the…? } Ainz muttered in utter disbelief. Before him, Buku hovered about ten centimeters above the ground, adorned with two wings of pure light, glowing like a seraphim angel in Yggdrasil. Panic was etched across her face, the light power still leaking out from within her.

The moment their eyes locked, the wings and radiant light dissipated in an instant. Buku descended to the ground, staring wide-eyed at Ainz and the gathering crowd in mute shock, leaning against a wall to support herself.

{ Ainz I… it was just a basic prayer. } She confessed through 'Message'.

{ Are you alright? } Ainz inquired, his concern for her paramount over his current well-being.

{ Yes. I am fine. I feel great actually. Did I harm you? } Her voice was laced with guilt, steeped with fear that she had harmed her beloved.

{ Nothing major. I managed to shield most of the damage, } Ainz reassured her.

{ I didn't know it would end like this. I didn't even have a chance to stop, } Buku lamented, setting herself back on her two feet.

{ What's done is done. The problem is that now everyone will know that we aren't ordinary humans. We need to test your ability to wield the light as soon as possible, away from prying eyes. } Ainz strategized.

{ You know, I didn't even try that hard. It kinda makes me worried about what would happen if either of us went all out. } Buku's voice trembled with concern as she rushed over to Ainz's side, both of them attempting to create a distance from the stunned crowd as the latter pushed his way through the people who had gathered to see what was going on.

It was clear that they had to leave immediately and hope that news about their abilities wouldn't spread too fast, no matter the cost. There was no hiding themselves now.

{ We'll need to find out our limits soon, } Ainz remarked pragmatically. { But at least we know we aren't weak by any stretch of the imagination. } He reassured Buku.

She had no way of knowing the result would be this explosive, as he firmly believed she was exercising the needed caution by starting with a most basic holy spell. He knew her well enough from the time they had spent together.

For now, all they could do was to quickly buy travel supplies before the rest of the town found out and depart swiftly from the Northshire Valley for less inhabited lands. Their departure was marked with intense urgency, knowing very well their unexpected display of power had inadvertently thrust them into the spotlight, a possibly legendary and permanent spotlight.

<X >

Even for a believer, witnessing a miracle was a hard thing to process. Brother Paxton paced back and forth in his chamber, too agitated to take his nightly rest.

His eyes still stung and his vision was still blurry from the sheer exposure to the Light. He was but a mortal man and couldn't withstand such amounts of holy energies.

The investigation revealed that the woman who asked to be taught how to perform the simplest of prayers had blessed every living being in a two-kilometer radius, from the straggliest weeds and mosses to the strongest oxen and warriors. And this begged the question of who, or more precisely what, was Buku Ooal Gown. She clearly wasn't just a regular human woman to have such a connection with the Light. She had to be something more.

'A direct manifestation of the Light itself?' He couldn't help but speculate wildly, even if it wasn't his place to do so. This woman and her husband had shown up out of nowhere and demonstrated notable feats, akin to the stories told of heroes.

Finally, he just dropped to his knees and prayed for ease of heart. He was but a simple cleric in a simple town, and it wasn't up to him to ponder on such matters. All he should do was take this as a sign that the Light worked in mysterious ways, and he had seen a miracle as a sign that his faith was not misplaced.

Editing by NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading By IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, aidan_lo, Ainz-sama, LionLover, miraculous trash, and Malguis.

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