Chapter 145

Demiurge stood up and stretched. He temporarily released his hold on the Evil Lord of Wrath, and allowed the demon to go about the business of harvesting resources. 'Using him to mine was a brilliant idea, even for me. I'm sure Lord Ainz will be pleased.'

Ore ripped from the mountain was steadily transported to Nazarick, thus providing ample material for public works. Further, the mines were walking height, creating a kind of path that would take them north, thus opening a path to both the City States and the northern part of the Baharuth Empire if a secret path of invasion was needed for some reason. 'Caution, my Lord has always prided himself on his caution and preparation, if I show the same trait…'

Demiurge didn't finish the thought, instead he leaned his back against the empty wall of the vault he'd turned into his de facto headquarters. Everything seemed off and yet, everything had never seemed so right either.

It was like unto the two sides of a knife's edge, and Demiurge had to walk the fine center of the blade.

'Was it one mistake that caused Lord Ulbert to look at me the way he did? Why couldn't I even say goodbye? When he made me, he praised me. When he left, he said nothing…' That was the worst part.

There was no point in his life before where Demiurge could say, "Here, I failed." No point at which he could say, "Had I only done this a little better, I would have at least been told goodbye."

With no point of failure, no shortcoming he could find, he could only curse his pride for failing to see the weakness in himself that his father must have seen.

"And yet One Stayed." He muttered and lay back stretched out on the floor, one foot crossed over the other at the ankles, and his arms crossed beneath his head, he stared up at the blank white ceiling.

His look was as blank as the stone, and for a time his busy mind was blessed in its emptiness. The One Who Stayed was different, different in strange ways that even Demiurge himself in his vast wisdom couldn't quite fathom.

'He is always unfathomable… but he even 'feels' different. What is it that has changed? He is more affectionate toward us… more… or just different…' It was enough for him to roll onto his side as if ready to sleep, the wall he now looked at was no different from the ceiling.

He turned his mind away from ugly thoughts that felt far too treasonous or inappropriate. Instead he focused on the matter at hand. 'By now Quadwar will have reached the chief and have learned a great deal, he'll be desperate for allies, and shortly, if they haven't already, the refugees from my first meeting with the quagoa will reach home. The dragons will be desperate for help, and if they go, the quagoa will follow.'

He reached into his dimensional storage and plucked the item 'Armageddon Evil' out of the little whorling black void.

He looked at the little item, it wasn't the final version, having only three arms around the seated goatman. But it was Lord Ulbert's work, a precious treasure of his creator, and now it was his.

Demiurge could not weep tears through crystal eyes, but he could feel the abyss of sorrow as he looked up at it, and if one were to ask him, he might have said that his crystalline eyes shone brighter in such moments.

The little object was more than a holy relic, 'Accepting it from Lord Ainz… it's as if he wanted me to have it, a last gift from a father going somewhere from which he cannot come back. Is that the truth… is that how Lord Ainz was able to bring us here? Were they… were our parents dying for us?!'

The sudden thought shot through him like a bolt of lightning and he shot up to a seated position. "No! No- no- no- no- no- no- no- no- no!" Demiurge's chest began to heave as he wondered if it could possibly be as he imagined. "He didn't say goodbye because he didn't want to go… or didn't want me to know the truth…"

His chest heaved as he stared down at the little item, 'Is that what Lord Ainz was trying to say… what even he couldn't say?!' Demiurge shouted the question in his mind and slapped a hand hard on his forehead.

"The Supreme Beings were sacrificing themselves… one by one… to keep us, their creations alive and to prepare us to come here…" He sounded out the long sentence with great slowness, and then again.

And again.

And again.

"Lord Ainz… he knew. That's what he meant… isn't it?" Demiurge asked the empty room while his chest heaved and unshedable tears built up in spirit if not in liquid form.

He recalled the words of Lord Ainz, the unfathomable being always had layers upon layers to his every utterance. "You couldn't go where he was going" that was more or less what Lord Ainz had said.

"At the time… at the time I thought it meant he went somewhere we simply couldn't exist…" Demiurge muttered as his fingers tightened around the impossible to break little object.

"But in hindsight… that makes no sense. If the Supreme Beings wanted us to be able to go there… we would be able to. They're Gods, of course we could have been modified for the journey." Demiurge muttered on, his words picking up speed as his mind raced on and on and on.

His breathing pace picked up along with his thoughts.

"But there's one thing that would be true for… death. We can't survive 'death'. Even undeath… we wouldn't be ourselves anymore… oh by all the Supreme Beings… by Lord Ulbert and Lord Punito Moe and Lord Bellriver and Lady Bukubukuchagama…" Without missing a beat, Demiurge recited the name of every single Supreme Being of the Great Tomb of Nazarick.

"I'm right… that was how My Lord made the trip… the supreme sacrifice…" Demiurge's mumbling became broken. "Greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends…"

The words etched on the arena wall and in the throne room took on new meaning. "They're not gone because they loathed us… or because we failed them… they're gone… because they loved us…"

Certainty crystalized like his eyes, and all he could do was kneel, clutch the relic of his father to his chest, and think of the quiet moment he vanished forever.

His black heart broke in his breast, and all he longed for was the presence of the One Who Stayed.

And yet, despite all that he was, all that he knew, all his impossible belief in the impossible wisdom and power of the King over Nazarick.

Demiurge was still surprised when he felt that familiar hand on his shoulder, and heard the voice of his Master asking, "Demiurge… my boy, are you alright?"