zooming

Momonga sat on a chair and looked at the mirror before him. The roughly one meter wide mirror did not reflect Momonga's face, but a patch of grass. The mirror was like a television set, showing images of a distant plain.

The grass of the plains swayed in the wind, proving it was not a still image.

As time passed, the sun slowly rose, its light banishing the darkness that covered the plains. This pastoral scene, almost poetic in its beauty, was a stark difference from the former location of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, the desolate world of Helheim.

Momonga reached out to the mirror and swiped his hand right. The mirror's image changed.

This was a Mirror of Remote Viewing.

This was a magic item used to display an image of a specific region. It was a very useful item for player-killers, or player-killer-killers. However, there were low level spells which occluded information-gathering spells that could hide people from the mirror's eyes. In addition, it was easy for users to be counterattacked by offensive barriers, so it was an average item at best.

However, for the present circumstances, an item which could show the outside world was a very useful item indeed.

Momonga enjoyed the movie-like quality of the grass within the mirror as the image changed.

"It would seem that I can move the image with a wave of the hand. That way, I won't have to keep looking at the same spot."

The scenery and the angles with which it was viewed changed within the floating mirror. Although he had made several mistakes so far, Momonga kept changing his gestures to alter the landscape within the mirror, hoping that he would find someone. However, up till now, he had not found any intelligent beings — for instance, humans.

He repeated the same simple gestures over and over again, but all the images he got were the same: plains. Momonga was starting to get bored, so he looked at the other person in the room.

"What's wrong, Momonga-sama? I stand ready to heed your every command."

"No, there's nothing, Sebas."

Sebas was the other person in the room. He might have been smiling, but his words seemed to hold some kind of subtext. Although Sebas was absolutely loyal to him, he had objected to Momonga's excursion to the surface without bringing his followers along.

Indeed, just after Momonga returned from the surface, Sebas had accosted and lectured him.

Momonga said what was on his heart.

"What will I do with him…"

Being with Sebas made Momonga think of his guildmate Touch Me. After all, Touch Me-san was the one who had designed Sebas.

Still, he didn't have to make him so similar to himself. Even the way Sebas gets angry reminds me of him.

After grumbling in his heart, Momonga looked back to the mirror.

Momonga's plan was to teach Demiurge the hard-learned lessons of how to control the magic mirror. This was what Momonga had meant when he spoke to Demiurge about another security net.

Although it would have been simpler to leave this task to his subordinates, Momonga wanted to handle this task personally. The truth was that he wanted to use his can-do working attitude to inspire and gain the respect of his subordinates. Therefore he could not be seen to give up halfway. Still, why can't I switch to a higher vantage point? If only there were a manual… With these thoughts in mind, Momonga went about the painstaking work of figuring the mirror's controls out by boring, repetitive trial and error.

He did not know how long it had been.

It might have only been a while, but so far his work had not borne fruit, and he could not help but feel like this was all a waste of time.

Momonga casually waved his hand with a vacant expression, and his field of vision suddenly expanded.

"Oh!"

Surprise, delight, pride, Momonga's exclamation was filled with all of these. At his wit's end, he made a random gesture and the screen suddenly did as he wanted. This was a cry of joy one would expect out of a programmer who had pulled eight hour's worth of overtime.

Cheering and clapping answered him. The source of these two sounds was Sebas.

"Congratulations, Momonga-sama. Your servant Sebas stands in awe of your prowess."

Granted, this was the fruit of extensive trial and error, so you don't need to go that far. Momonga thought that, but when he saw that Sebas looked quite happy, he decided to humbly accept the butler's praise.

"Thank you, Sebas. Although I apologize for making you accompany me for so long."

What are you saying? Staying by your side and obeying your orders is the reason for a butler's existence, Momonga-sama. There is no need to thank or apologize to me… although, it is true that this process took quite some time. Momonga-sama, would you like to take a break?"

"No, there is no need for that. Undead like myself are not affected by negative statuses like fatigue. If you're tired, you may go and rest."

"Thank you for your kindness, but it would be unthinkable for a butler to rest while his master worked. With the aid of magic items, I am not affected by fatigue either. Please allow me to stay by your side until the end, Momonga-sama."

Momonga realised one thing from his conversations with the NPCs; namely, they casually used game terms in their speech. For instance, skills, job classes, items, levels, negative statuses, and so on. If he could use game terms with them in an unironic way, it might be easier to give them orders.

After agreeing to Sebas's request, he continued studying the ways to control the mirror. Finally he discovered a method to adjust the height of his viewpoint.

Momonga smiled in satisfaction, and began looking for a populated area.

Finally, an image of something like a village appeared on the mirror.

It was located roughly ten kilometers south of Nazarick. There was a forest nearby, and wheat fields surrounded a settlement. It appeared to be a rustic farming village. By the looks of things, the village itself was not very developed.

As Momonga zoomed in on the village, he felt that something was amiss.

"...Are they holding a festival?"

People were running in and out of their houses this early in the morning. They looked panicked.

"No, that is not a festival."

That steely voice came from Sebas, who was watching the display with a keen look in his eye as he stood beside Momonga.

There was an undercurrent of disgust in Sebas's stern words. As Momonga enlarged the image, he too furrowed his nonexistent brows.

Fully armored knights were swinging their longswords at the villagers, who were dressed in rough clothes.

It was a massacre.

A villager fell with every swing of a knight's sword. The villagers could not resist them, and could only run away. The knights pursued and killed the fleeing villagers. There were horses eating the grain in the field. Those horses must have belonged to the knights.

"Cheh!"

Momonga scoffed, intending to change the image. This village had no value to him. If he could extract more information from it, perhaps he might have a reason to save them. But as things stood, there was no reason to save this village.

He should abandon them.

Momonga was taken aback by how he could make such a heartless decision. A cruel slaughter was occurring before his eyes, but the only thing he could think of was the good of Nazarick. There was nothing like pity, anger, or worry, basic human emotions anyone should have.

It felt like he was watching a TV show about animals and insects, where the strong ate the weak.

Could it be that as one of the undead, he no longer considered himself part of humanity?

No, how could that be?

Momonga struggled to find an excuse to justify his thinking.

He was not an agent of justice.

He was level one hundred, but like he had told Mare, this world's commoners might well be level one hundred as well. Therefore, he could not tread blindly into this unknown world. Although it looked like the knights were conducting a one-sided slaughter of the villagers, there might be other reasons at work here which he did not know about. Reasons like "illness, judgement, setting an example," and others like them kept appearing in his mind. And if he stepped in and defeated the knights, he might earn the ire of the country they belonged to.