Chapter 3 The Great Tomb

The workers led by "Green Leaf" Palpatra parted with the other excited,

expectant teams and looked out from the top of the stairs near the entrance to

the central mausoleum.

Nothing moved in the graveyard, sleepy like death. There were only

silence, darkness, and starlight. When Palpatra took a step down, one of his

teammates spoke.

"Isn't this kind of a waste, sir? Don't you think one of the other teams

could have searched the graveyard?"

"Of course they could have. There's not a huge gap in ability between the

teams, minus that piece of shit one. Heavy Masher and Foresight could

probably do anything we can." Palpatra interrupted his teammate's "So then

—" and continued, "We got first dibs on tomorrow's search, right? It's not a

total loss. Besides, we may finish searching the ground level by tomorrow, so

the last team might end up guarding base camp with no gains at all."

"I see…"

"It's too risky to be the first ones to raid unknown ruins anyhow. They're

our canaries. Hope they make it back safely."

Palpatra turned around with a cold glint in his eyes. He was watching the

workers who had charged in, though they were no longer visible.

The slightly disparaging expression didn't match his usual friendly old

man vibe, but his teammates knew him well, so they weren't surprised.

Palpatra was an extremely prudent person. He layered precautions on

precautions and was the type to look before leaping. That was how he had

been able to continue adventuring for so long and how he managed to defeat

a dragon. He was so cautious, in fact, that he occasionally missed out on

profitable opportunities. Still, he had never lost a man; his ability was worthy

of the faith his teammates put in him.

There was nothing more valuable than life, not to any of them, but they

still regretted losing the riches they felt had slipped through their fingers.

"It might have been a chance to discover some amazing item! It might

have been worth betting our lives."

"You might be right. But take a look at this well-kept graveyard. If

someone is keeping this place tidy, there will definitely be monsters to greet

us. It's better to have the others investigate what types of monsters there are,

don't you think? Personally, I don't much care for this type of request. Too

many uncertainties."

One of his teammates replied to these grumbles with a flippant "But in the

end, you took it!"

"Yes. Because I figured if there were other teams, we could escape while

they end up victims."

The party reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Is that why you took on the search of the ground level? So if we hear

them scream, we can run away?"

"That's one reason. I'm making a bet… As you said earlier, we stand to

lose a lot. It should be safer once we have more information, but it's unclear

how many benefits there really are. If it doesn't work out, allow me to

apologize."

"Don't worry about it, sir. We trust you no matter what. You tend to make

the right choice."

"And if we do miss out here, we'll just gnash our teeth and make a killing

on the next job. Aren't you the one who said that as long as you're alive,

you'll always have another chance to profit, so you shouldn't go recklessly

rushing into danger?"

"Ahh, that takes me back. We were young then."

"You're still young!"

"Well, when you say it, sir…"

The party was all wry smiles as they set off across the graveyard toward

one of the smaller mausoleums.

"Actually, I'm sorry I made a decision on my own when I should have

conferred with the rest of you first."

"Well, there wasn't much you could have done, given the timing. Plus, we

chose you as our leader. If our trusted leader decides something, we're happy

to obey."

"…You seem disappointed, though. What are those bitter smiles for?

Well, anyhow. Let's get down to business here. If we have time left after the

search, maybe we can get Momon to give us some training. It's a good

opportunity, so you fellows should try sparring with him, too."

"Yeah, his match with you is burned into our brains. He really is an

adamantite rank."

"There are all different levels within adamantite rank. Frankly, the

empire's Eight Ripples aren't really adamantite caliber. Momon is a true

adamantite rank on a level above the one I couldn't even reach."

"Sir…"

"Hya-hya-hya! No worries. In my heyday, I might have been jealous, but

now I'm just a wrinkly old man. It's not a shock to me. And I've seen my

share of true adamantites, but Momon is outstanding. His presence feels like

the true of the true."

"Really?"

"Yeah. That's why you really should have him go at you, even just

casually. If you're going to keep adventuring even after I die, it's an

experience you'll treasure."

"There's no way you're going to die, sir. I can't even imagine you

retiring."

"Yeah! I think you'll live as long as Paradyne."

"Hya-hya-hya! Nah, that's impossible for me. He's something else."

"What a wonderful team you are."

Suddenly, the quiet voice of a woman.

In this group, there were two women on Hekkeran's team, Foresight, and

three elf slaves on Elya's team, Tenbu, but the voice was none of those.

The party raised their weapons and whirled around.

At the top of the gently sloping stairs they had just descended, at the

entrance to the mausoleum, stood women in maid uniforms—five of them.

They were all unbelievably beautiful, which made them seem very out of

place.

The strange thing was that although they wore maid uniforms, the outfits

were unlike any Palpatra had ever seen before and had a metallic gleam, like

armor.

"Who…are you? I've never seen you before… Hmm… So there was a

secret passage after all?"

"Girls? They're as pretty as Raven Black's Beautiful Princess, but…they

must be more than looks, huh?"

"They don't seem hostile. Maybe they were hired by someone else…?

Nah, that can't be…"

"What should we do, sir?"

Palpatra's teammates, watching the maids' every move, looked to him for

direction.

Negotiating would have been best, but there was no way things would

resolve amicably.

"Numberwise, we're even… Maybe it'll be okay?"

Their opponents were as strong or perhaps slightly stronger than they

were.

The fact that they hadn't attacked while all the workers were together

meant they probably didn't have a trap or the might to take everyone at once.

Likewise, since they came straight at Palpatra's team and talked to them now,

they were probably confident they could beat them.

As Palpatra had gotten older, his body didn't perspire like it used to, but at

this moment, the hands clenching his spear were clammy.

"Still, maids in a graveyard? This guy's taste is suspect."

The team went from chatty to pale and trembling in the space of a

moment, foreheads slick with sweat.

Palpatra was assailed, for just a split second, by the feeling that the

temperature had plunged, but the goose bumps covering his entire body were

not his imagination.

Even by the light of the moon, he could see the cutthroat looks in the eyes

of the maids lined up above them.

"LET'S KILL THEMMM."

"…We should."

"Normally we wouldn't kill them, but put them through incredible

amounts of pain, no?"

The maids were awash with killing intent. Their emotional agitation was

so intense that it seemed to warp space.

"Okay, okay." The one who seemed to have the highest status clapped her

hands lightly. "We were ordered not to let anyone out alive, so killing them

was already decided, but I'm glad you're all in the mood."

A metallic clack rang out loudly on the marble steps. It was made by the

greave-like high heels the maids were wearing.

Palpatra and his team backed up as if they'd been pushed.

Judging from the fact that their opponents carried no weapons, they had to

be casters. In that case, it was a bad plan to let them have the higher, more

advantageous ground and set this open area with a clear line of fire as the

battlefield.

For Palpatra and his team, closing the distance would be effective. The

maids would have the advantage in the opposite scenario, so why were they

coming down the stairs? Would they float into the sky with Fly in a pinch?

Bewildered by the stately approach of the maids, whose faces were as

expressionless as Noh masks, Palpatra and his team conferred behind their

shields about what to do, what strategy to use.

Clack! The sound was louder now. The maids had stopped midway down

the stairs.

"First, allow me to introduce myself. I…ahem…I am the deputy leader of

the Pleïades, Yuri Alpha. We'll only be with one another a short while, but I

hope you'll remember me. Now then, this would be over much more quickly

if we could clean you up ourselves, but due to certain circumstances, we are

unable to lay a hand on you directly. It's unfortunate, but that's how it is."

Adorable voices laughing, like bells ringing, traveled on the wind until

they reached the workers.

The smiles of these peerless beauties were so charming it wouldn't have

been strange for one of them to fall in love at first sight.

Palpatra had seen a lot of things in all his years as first an adventurer, then

a worker. That included the inhuman beauty of monsters. Even he had never

seen such a pretty woman as Yuri—she was so gorgeous he thought he might

lose his senses.

But under one layer of thin skin beneath her regular features lay a

crushing pride that made itself known through the contempt in her way of

addressing them, the superiority oozing at the edges of her words. For men

who had made it through many adventures and were confident in their skill,

the arrogance was obnoxious—enough to make them want to hurt her a little.

As elaborated on earlier, however, there was mounting evidence that

suggested the overwhelming strength of these women (as contrary as their

appearance made that seem), so the men couldn't quite commit themselves to

a charge. One of them, struck by the maid party's killing intent, still looked

plain scared.

Perhaps their best course of action was to retreat and involve the

adventurers, especially Momon, in the fight.

"Now allow me to introduce your opponents." Yuri clapped her hands

twice. The sound carried surprisingly far, and the graveyard shook as if in

response. "Come on out, Nazarick Old Guarders."

"What?!" Palpatra yelped.

Behind them the ground split open, and multiple skeletons appeared.

Pincered?! No…

Looking up at the stairs, he saw that while the maids were hostile, any

hint of a will to fight had disappeared. Perhaps one could say they'd gone

into spectator mode. The workers couldn't let down their guard, but at least

for now there was no sign of the women attacking, as they had said.

Concluding that their opponents for the time being were the newcomer

skeletons to the rear, Palpatra took a good look at them.

Skeletons weren't such tough enemies. Palpatra and his team could be

attacked by a hundred and methodically annihilate them without even getting

scared. In that case, the eight skeletons that had crawled out of the ground

weren't opponents at all.

There was just one problem.

Palpatra and his teammates all swallowed hard and took an unconscious

step back.

These didn't seem like ordinary skeletons. They had different gear, too.

They wore quality breastplates, like the type of thing the bodyguards of

some country's leader would wear, carried kite shields emblazoned with a

crest, and wielded a diverse array of weapons. They wore composite

longbows across their backs. And every bit of their gear had the sparkle of

magical energy.

Skeletons armed with magic items couldn't be ordinary skeletons.

"What are those?"

"You don't know either, sir? I'm not positive, but I think…they're a

subtype of skeleton warriors."

"A subtype? Well, they don't seem like red skeleton warriors…"

Facing an enemy they knew nothing about was terrifying, all the more so

because that enemy was outfitted with magic items that had special effects.

"Judging from your numbers, we think this many will be enough. Do your

best. Let's see how far you can run."

"To be given such powerful undead as opponents—what an honor!

However…"

Palpatra thought calmly.

It would be no easy feat to ready an endless supply of fancily equipped

undead. They must have come out swinging with their strongest force.

If they had something stronger, they never would have let the invasion

begin.

"So this is the mightiest these ruins have to offer? Did you think you

could stop us with these?"

When he looked up, he saw Yuri's eyes darting around—she was mildly

shaken.

Bull's-eye, huh? I see. So this conversation was supposed to be a trap…?

The smartest use of their most powerful forces would have been to defeat

each enemy as it came inside the tomb. But considering the chance of not

encountering them, maybe it was smarter to concentrate their forces on the

exit—the place the physically and mentally exhausted raiders would have to

pass after their search.

He could see through their aim. The maid's taunt to do their best at

running away put the idea of fleeing in their heads, surely so she and her

companions could attack them from behind with the advantage. They had

multiple battles ahead, so of course they would want to minimize their losses.

So there was only one thing Palpatra and his team had to do.

"We just have to defeat all the skeletons and break through, right?"

They had to fight off the Nazarick Old Guarders for the other teams who

would return later.

The workers were rivals but also teammates. Besides, if the intention was

for them to flee, it would be harder for the maids to catch them in their trap if

they stood and fought instead. Keeping in mind the plan of getting Momon

and the others into the battle if their opponents started to seem tough,

Palpatra figured they should fight, knowing it was dangerous.

"Contrary to my plans, we're the canaries… My head hurts. Do you think

that's all of them?"

"It's hard to imagine they could have more undead with that level of

gear."

"This is a path any raiders would have to take. So putting their strongest

force here is an optimal strategy. That means it's probably all of them, right?

I don't think they'd make any stupid mistakes in how they split up their

troops, given that they're better informed than us."

"No, I wouldn't be surprised if there were more inside. But most of the

ones that are left are probably less powerful."

"Sir…let's make a run for it. Those things are bad. Really bad."

"There's been nowhere to run from the moment we were flanked. Even if

we tried to fly away, they'd shoot us with their bows. We have to hold our

ground! Beating them is the only way to survive!"

As Palpatra shouted, there came a voice from above that sounded

somewhere between surprised and derisive. "Well, that's one way to do it.

We're rooting for you. Now, please begin."

With her voice as the trigger, the Nazarick Old Guarders charged.

Yuri and the others repeated their "encouragements" with troubled

expressions.

The scene playing out before them was so unexpected, they couldn't

conceal their surprise. Are they really this…?

"Boy, they're doomed."

"…I never guessed they would be so…"

"Master Cocytus is also surprised."

"AT THIS RATE…IT'S GOING TO END BEFORE THEY GET TO

THE GOOD PART…"

A hammer descended as they watched.

"Ah, this is bad. They're gonna die."

At Lupusregina's quiet comment, a man took the hit to his chest and

crumpled to the ground.

The sound of metal screeching and something heavy falling—even in the

midst of the fierce fight, these sounds echoed out clearly.

The first one to die was a human warrior. The Nazarick Old Guarder

who'd clobbered him with a lightning-imbued hammer unsmilingly shifted its

aim to its next prey.

"Mr. Priest, hurry up and heal or your warrior's gonna die!" Yuri seemed

concerned.

"…No. He died instantly. And now their line is broken," Shizu replied,

shaking her head.

The two Nazarick Old Guarders who had been facing the warrior were

freed up, so one of them headed toward the priest, and the other moved on to

the rear guard. The priest had already had two on him, and now he would

have to face another. He didn't have time to cast anymore. It was all he could

do to withstand the attacks coming at him from three directions.

The only one putting up a decent fight was Palpatra, but he was facing

three of them, so he didn't have any leeway to go to the rescue.

"Thieves don't have enough attack power. Do you have any kind of ace

move?" The arcane caster protecting the thief had to fight another monster.

That made two. A thief's light weapons were definitely not powerful enough

against armor-clad undead, which couldn't be killed in one well-aimed strike.

He could dodge nimbly, but the difference between exhaustible humans and

inexhaustible undead was huge.

"They're looking at us like they're going to start crying."

"Should we wave?"

"SURE, WE CAN DO THAT MUUUCH."

"'Kay, 'kay." Lupusregina grinned and waved at Palpatra.

"...He got hit."

"Because you distracted him, Lupu."

"Urgh! You mean it's my fault?!"

"...Yes. It's your fault. But we can root for them… Hang in there…"

"Yeah, we need them to hang in there."

Everyone nodded at Yuri's remark.

In their battle with Palpatra's worker team, the Nazarick Old Guarders

kept the pressure on the entire time. The workers' resistance was so futile, the

game so one-sided, that Yuri and the other maids began to pity them.

They'd laughed at first. Why were they so confident before the battle

started? But the fight was not even worth watching. They yawned and even

started encouraging the workers.

"Agh, it's so one-sided I don't even know what to say."

"...They don't have any ace moves?"

"Maybe it was the summoning spell he just cast?"

"Tier three?"

"Nah, that's too weak to be an ace move. But I do think their idea to build

a wall with summoned monsters was a good one."

"For sure. If the attacks hadn't reached, they might have been able to

regroup."

"BUUUT FLYING WAS A BAD MOOOVE. THE WRINKLY ONE

EVEN SAID SOOO…"

"It wasn't clear if he was trying to run away or cast magic from above…"

"...Perfect for target practice."

The arcane caster had already taken a critical hit and fallen to the ground.

If his hands had been free, he could have cast a healing spell or used a potion

and returned to the fight, but he didn't have the energy. In the end, the thief

covered him, and he had his hands full trying not to get finished off.

"I wonder why they underestimated the Old Guarders so badly."

That was a question.

Maybe they'd just been thinking things would go their way? Not because

they were stupid but to distract themselves from despair and rouse their

courage. Maybe their survival instincts as human beings had maxed

themselves out.

"Either way, looks pretty hopeless."

"Yeah. Things are going downhill."

"IF THEY HAD A CHANCE, I GUESS IT WOULD BE TO FOCUS ON

DEFENSE AND BUY TIME UNTIL THE OTHER BURGLARS

RETURNED?"

Everyone's chilling gazes pierced Entoma.

"You don't think they're actually going to come back, do you?"

"...It's obvious they won't."

"It's impossible. No one can get out of the Great Tomb of Nazarick

alive."

An agonized scream along with the sound of something collapsing. The

combat maids looked in the direction the sound had come from and voiced

their disappointment.

"AH, THERE GOES THE THIEEEF."

"That's that, then."

"Maybe we should have given in when they begged for their lives…"

"But they were so sure they would win! Anyone would think they had

some kind of trick up their sleeves."

The thick scent of fresh blood the thief must have spattered reached the

maids.

"SMELLS GOOOOD…"

"Leave them," Yuri said reprovingly.

They'd been ordered by their master to gather up all the incapacitated,

whether dead or alive. There was no way they could be so rude as to present

him with bodies with bites taken out of them.

"FRESH MEEEAT…"

"I'll ask Lord Ainz later, so please control yourself for now."

"Isn't this kind of bad, though? Weren't we supposed to be testing to see

if the minions could deal with escapees?"

"I think so. That's why there are such strong undead waiting near the

walls."

"MASTER COCYTUS SEEMS TO HAVE TAKEN THE SCENARIO

IN WHICH THEY ARE CAUGHT TOO EASILY INTO ACCOUUUNT."

"That they would challenge the Old Guarders head-on was a surprise."

"That's what happens when you don't analyze your opponent's strength.

Okay, anyone who is breathing even a little, heal them and send them to the

torture chamber. The dead ones…let's report to Lord Ainz."

Thus, that night, the worker team led by Palpatra disappeared.

2

"Push them back!" Gringham's shout echoed in the burial chamber filled

with the stench of mold and death.

The room was twenty yards square. The ceiling was high, probably

sixteen feet. The figures practically overflowing the place could be seen by

the magic light a caster had created plus a torch that had fallen to the floor.

Gringham and his team, Heavy Masher, had been driven into a corner.

The rest of the burial chamber was crawling with zombies and skeletons, a

mob of low-tier undead.

There were so many it was absurd to try to count.

Gringham and a warrior with a shield took the muddy torrent of death

head-on, creating a bank so it wouldn't reach the rear guard.

Zombie fists pelted Gringham's full plate armor. As corpses, they were

more powerful than regular humans, but there was no way they could damage

steel armor. Their rotting, fragile hands smashed against it, leaving behind

foul-smelling scraps of decomposing meat.

The skeletons were the same. There was no way their rusty swords were

going to pierce enchanted armor.

Sure, coincidences were conceivable, but thanks to the magic defense

they'd cast, none occurred.

Gringham swept his ax through the area in front of him, but as soon as

one undead fell, another stepped up to take its place. They kept closing in, all

but crushing the workers.

"Dammit! There're too many of them!" The warrior with the shield next

to Gringham let his distress slip. The shield was big enough to cover his

entire body, so no attacks were connecting, but its entire surface was slick

with foul liquids.

He was bashing in the heads of zombies and skeletons with his mace, but

even so, he was losing to the pressure, slowly retreating.

"Where the hell did they all come from?!"

The warrior's question was a natural one.

After parting with the other teams at an intersection, they had searched a

number of rooms. Unfortunately, they hadn't discovered as much treasure as

had been in the smaller mausoleums. Still, they'd found a decent sum, and

they had continued steadily making their way, bit by bit, through other

rooms. Then they had entered this one, and when they began investigating,

the door suddenly flew open and so many undead flooded in that no one

could guess where they'd come from.

Zombies and skeletons weren't such terrifying foes. But with these

numbers, they could do a great deal of damage.

If the workers got pulled down and buried, even if they didn't die, they

wouldn't be able to move. Then the undead would descend on the rear guard.

Not that Gringham thought they would fall so easily, but against the threat

of these numbers, he was a bit worried.

At this rate, it's sheer luck that our line is holding. Having made that

observation, Gringham unleashed a power he'd been saving.

"Let us finish them all at once! I'm counting on you!"

The rear guard, who until now had just been throwing rocks, leaped into

action.

Really, for Gringham and the other members of Heavy Masher, undead

like these weren't so tough. That's why the rear guard had been on standby,

saving their energy as much as possible. Once those reinforcements were in

action, mopping up these undead would be a cinch.

"Our god, god of earth! Cast out the impure ones!" Clenching his sigil, the

priest's shout became his strength.

Something refreshing entered the atmosphere, like a pure breeze had

blown through the burial chamber to sweep away its foul air—a stronger than

normal wave of holy energy. It was the priest's exorcism ability.

At the same time, beginning with the ones nearest the priest, the undead

crumbled and turned to ashes.

In the case of an overwhelmingly large ability gap, undead could be

destroyed instead of merely exorcized. But destroying a large number of

undead was quite a bit more difficult and required that much more energy.

In the end, twenty were annihilated at once.

"Fly, Fireball!" An arcane caster launched a fireball, and it exploded right

in the center of the undead mob. Flames blazed for only a split second, and

the zombies and skeletons in range collapsed, their false life burned up.

"I'm not done yet! Fireball!"

"Our god, god of earth! Cast out the impure ones!"

Additional area-of-effect attacks decimated the undead.

"Let's go!"

"Right!"

The warrior abandoned his shield, brandished his mace with both hands,

and accompanied Gringham into the mob. The reason they charged in even

though the casters could have made short work of the undead was that they

preferred saving the magical energy. The priest's exorcism, especially, had a

limited number of uses. His specialization in anti-undead moves made him an

essential asset in this tomb.

Leaping into a group of zombies, Gringham swung his ax. A liquid less

like blood and more like glop oozed—if their hearts had been beating, it

would have sprayed—from the stumps of severed body parts. A nauseating

smell wafted out of the cuts, but it wasn't more than he could stomach.

Or rather, his nose just couldn't even distinguish it any longer.

He worked with the warrior to attack, attack, attack. Defense didn't even

cross their minds.

They were able to make such a reckless offensive because they had magic

support and tough armor and because they were up against such weak

undead.

Now and then Gringham felt the shock of a zombie punch to his head, but

his helmet absorbed it, and the burden on his neck was almost nonexistent.

His chest and abdomen may have been getting punched as well, but sure

enough, he didn't really feel it.

After all, their opponents were undead of the lowest tier. The number of

them was what had made things tense; now that the cleanup had progressed

to some degree, they began to feel more comfortable.

Without pausing his swings, the warrior shouted, "We've only

encountered small fries, but this tomb sure has a lot of 'em!"

"That in itself means there could be a stronger one somewhere. That said,

if there is one, I don't get why it doesn't come out."

The who one answered was the priest, who had picked up the warrior's

shield and was watching the progress of the battle from behind them.

"…Mm, these undead might have been summoned somehow, like with

ritual magic or an item."

Strangely, the undead vanished after a set amount of time, so there

weren't so many of them that there was nowhere to stand. The wizard had

warned the team because he noticed their disappearance was vaguely similar

to the way summoned undead expired.

"A way to summon a huge number of low-tier undead? …No, sir! Do not

make me imagine this entire tomb crammed full of zombies!" Gringham

answered as he sliced off the head of a skeleton like he was cutting a branch

off a tree. Then he flicked his eyes around the room. He could count the

number of undead on two hands. The door was still open, but no new

monsters were coming in. A little more fighting and this battle will be over.

Just as he thought that, he was assailed by a creeping sensation that started

at his feet.

His ability to sense danger was ordering him to get out of there, but that

was next to impossible under the circumstances. Still—

"Watch out! Leave the r—!" The thief must have sensed the same thing.

But it was too late. The hard, sturdy floor abruptly morphed into

something that couldn't be relied on. Instead, the workers felt like they were

floating. A beat later, they lost their balance and smashed into the floor.

Gringham could hear his teammates groaning in pain. He, however, had

managed to keep hold of his ax despite the fall and destroyed the skeletons on

the floor with it as he got to his feet.

"Annihilate them!"

The undead had taken damage in the fall—especially the skeletons, who

were weak against impact damage—so they were easier to kill than before.

After finishing them off, Gringham finally took a look around the room.

They must have dropped to the bottom of a magical pitfall where the floor

of the room simply vanished. When he looked up, the ceiling was so far away

—eyeballing it, probably almost forty feet. About ten feet up was a closed

door, and another ten feet up—a total of twenty—was an open door. That was

the one they'd come through originally. It probably made sense to assume

they had fallen two stories.

Overall, the construction of the room could perhaps best be described as a

tall, four-sided pillar with a floor that sloped steeply downward like an

inverted square pyramid; if they weren't careful, they would slide down to

the lowest point in the center of the room. Actually, one of his teammates had

tumbled to the center in their original fall and was in danger of being buried

under the zombies that tumbled down after them.

Gringham couldn't believe they had plunged into such a place virtually

unharmed.

The strange thing was that ten feet up, at the height of the closed door,

there were sixteen passages, four on each wall of the room.

"It seems like a water torture chamber. It'd just come gushing out of those

passageways… Ugh. Or slime—that would be even worse!"

"I totally agree. Let's hurry up and investigate that door. If it's safe, let's

escape through it."

It would, naturally, be difficult to scale two stories of a wall that had no

handholds. The only one who could do it was probably the thief. For those in

full plate armor, like Gringham, it would be nearly impossible. While the

unknown lower door made them anxious, it would be easier to reach.

As they were discussing how to go about climbing up, some things poked

their heads out of the sixteen passageways, all at about the same time. They

were corpses so swollen they looked like they were about to burst: plague

bombers.

Bulging with hoarded-up negative energy, plague bombers, which

resembled chunks of meat, were exasperating undead that exploded when

attacked, dealing damage to the living and healing undead.

They jumped. Crashing into the floor, their bodies made a sickening

sound, but the problem was what happened next. The rotund monsters falling

onto the steep slope rolled down like boulders toward Gringham and his

team.

"Look out! Dodge 'em!"

"You don't need to tell me twice—I'm the brains of this team!"

They all—including the whimpering wizard—just barely managed to

evade the monsters, which continued rolling down to the center of the

inverted square pyramid.

When the next plague bombers peeked their horrible faces out of the

passages, Gringham realized that these had been just the first wave and got an

idea of what was in store for them.

"Run! These things are going to bury us!"

If they were hit by one of the plague bombers and tumbled to the center,

they were sure to be crushed. If that didn't kill them, repeated hits of negative

energy from the bursting monsters their teammates were fighting would.

"What a treacherous trap! Someone give me a boost!"

"Don't be ridiculous! We wouldn't be able to dodge if we did that!"

Even if they managed to evade the falling monster, their balance would be

off, so they wouldn't be able to dodge the next attack. Asking someone to be

a foothold under those circumstances was too much.

"Then I'll use magic!"

"Don't Fly! You're not strong enough to carry us all up there."

"No! Not—agh, watch out—that! Web Ladder!"

"That could work! Aim for the closer door! Gringham, cover him!"

"No! Stop! We'll escape through the door two stories up, the one we came

in through! The lower one is too dangerous!"

They didn't have time to ask what gave him that idea, but they trusted

him.

"Web Ladder!"

The spell created a spiderweb that led straight to the door two stories up.

The magic spiderweb's stronger-than-normal adhesion was sticky when one

wanted to be fixed to the web and released when one wanted to move again.

The spell really could be used just like a ladder.

With rushed but flawless movements, Gringham and his team climbed up

the web one after the other like prayer beads on a string.

When they finally reached the open door, Gringham cautiously looked

inside. Getting shoved from there and falling all the way down would have

been unbearable.

He sighed in relief. They seemed to have escaped the scenario he'd been

afraid of; there were no undead in sight.

Having confirmed that, he scrambled into the hallway and began hauling

the others up.

"We're saved! Getting crushed to death by undead has got to be up there

among the worst possible ways to die."

"These ruins are built in a pretty nasty way. I hurt my leg a bit in the fall.

Can you heal me?"

"I thought I felt my toes tingling in the explosions of negative energy.

That was terrifying!"

"I was lucky I even managed to dodge! Don't make your wizard dodge!"

Everyone grumbled, breathing raggedly.

"Hey, Gringham. Why did we avoid that door? I kinda thought it might

actually be the right way. It would be logical to make the correct route

dangerous, right?"

"It's just a hunch, but…try attacking it with a weapon we don't need."

Gringham gave a raw answer, having run out of poise, and the thief

immediately threw a dagger.

Just as it hit—or would have—part of the door swelled up to form a

tentacle and slapped it away.

"It's…a door imitator! Er, no, judging from the color of the appendage, an

undead door imitator! They capture opponents in a sticky liquid and go to

town on them with their tentacles."

"Tch! A plan B trap, huh? How tricky. Nice job seeing through it!"

"It was only intuition. No, honestly, all I did was choose the known over

the unknown. And that spot was getting bathed in the negative energy bursts.

I don't think it affects nonliving things like doors so much, but I mainly

doubted whether it really made sense to put a hallway there. Okay, should we

get go—?"

Gringham abruptly closed his mouth. The thief who had been so chatty up

until a minute ago had put a finger to his lips and was focusing his ears.

Gringham strained his own ears and noticed the regular sound of

something hitting the floor.

Everyone looked in the direction the noise was coming from—down the

hall.

"An enemy…I guess? I wish they'd give us time to rest."

"Yeah, if there's one sound and whatever's making it isn't even trying to

move stealthily, it must be an enemy. I'll be glad if this is the end of them…"

All of them quietly drew their weapons. The warrior took his shield back

and stood at the front, protecting one side of his body. The wizard had his

glowing staff pointed down the hall, ready to cast at any moment. The priest

raised his sigil, and the thief took aim with his bow.

The tapping sound grew louder, and finally the thing making it came into

view.

A gorgeous yet worn robe was wrapped around a figure thinner than a

young girl. The noise must have been the gnarled staff the figure held in one

hand.

The thing had a face—a bit of skin stretched over bone, beginning to rot

—that contained a dark wisdom. The negative energy its body gave off hung

around it, mist-like.

It was an undead caster. It was called—

"An elder lich!" the wizard, first to identify the monster, cried out.

Yes. It was the worst sort of monster, which appeared when negative life

occupied the corpse of an evil caster.

The moment they heard it was an elder lich, Gringham and his teammates

changed formation. They staggered positions so no one was obstructed and

kept some distance from one another as a precaution against area-of-effect

spells.

An elder lich was a fairly strong enemy; for platinum-rank adventurers it

would still be pretty difficult, while a mythril-rank team would have a decent

enough chance of winning.

For Gringham's team, if they didn't think about how tired they were, they

could defeat it. Luckily, this time he'd brought along members who were

quite strong against undead. That was encouraging.

It would have been tough to fight if the lich had kept some distance, but at

this range, he felt they could probably gain the advantage.

"So this is the master of the tomb!" That's what Gringham had concluded.

An elder lich was a ruler. They controlled mobs of undead and sometimes

had dealings with the living.

There were even famous elder liches, like the captain of the ghost ship

that sometimes sailed through the fog on the Katze Plain or the one ruling an

abandoned castle.

If this one was an elder lich like them, it wouldn't be any surprise if it

were the master of the tomb.

"So we hit the jackpot? Super lucky!"

"Uh, it's not like the request was to kill the master of the tomb, you

know."

"Shall we show it the might of Heavy Masher?"

"Let's show it our divine protection!"

Everyone chimed in excitedly. They roared to chase off the fear of facing

such a powerful enemy.

"We need defense magic and…" Just as Gringham was about to shout the

plan of attack to his determined teammates, he was assailed by the feeling

something was off. He understood its cause immediately. It was the enemy

before them, the elder lich.

"...What is it?"

"We're not…taking it by surprise, are we?"

Although the party was in full sight, the elder lich didn't make a single

move. It didn't raise its staff or begin casting a spell. It simply watched them

in silence.

The workers couldn't contain their confusion. The monster had obliterated

their prediction that it would engage them immediately, but now they

hesitated to make the first move and attack.

Certainly undead were hostile to the living, but it was also true that some

of the intelligent ones could negotiate. Usually if a living thing initiated, the

terms went in favor of the undead, but if the undead proposed a truce, one

could sometimes acquire an item made with technology lost long ago.

In any case, when it came to an enemy as powerful as an elder lich, there

was nothing better than getting through an encounter without fighting.

Perhaps it was irritated that its traps hadn't finished them off, but there was

also the possibility that it recognized their ability and had chosen the peaceful

path of striking a deal.

Thinking that way, it was horribly thoughtless to make the first move and

attack. That would mean completely abandoning potential negotiations. But

they were in enemy territory. With no secure escape route, they risked a

tough battle ahead.

The team exchanged glances and concluded they were all thinking the

same thing.

Speaking on behalf of the team was the job of the leader, naturally.

"Excuse us for intruding. You seem to be the master of this tomb. We—"

The elder lich turned its awful face to Gringham and pointed a bony finger

at him.

It meant, Shut up.

The gesture didn't seem very elder lich–like at all, but he wasn't brave—

no, suicidal—enough to say it to the powerful monster's face.

Gringham obediently shut his mouth. Then in the hallway over which

silence had fallen once more, he heard that sound again, and strained his ears

in spite of himself.

It was the familiar sound of something tapping against the floor—but of

more than one something.

Gringham and his teammates all looked at one another. Upon hearing the

sound, the conclusion they had arrived at was inconceivable.

Then they all shrieked at once.

"Who said this elder lich was the master of the tomb?!"

"Sorry! It was me!"

"Are you fucking kidding me? This can't be happening!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa—there's no way we can win this!"

"Even divine protection has its limits!"

More elder liches appeared from behind the first one—six of them.

That meant a total of seven immensely powerful undead casters.

Certainly since they were all one race, their method of attack would be the

same. If only they had a way to neutralize all the monsters' attacks, they

would be able to defeat all seven of them.

Of course, they didn't have such a way, and neither could they possibly

acquire one.

Under those impossible circumstances, Gringham and his team

completely lost the will to fight.

"Now then, shall we begin?"

As the elder lich, who had not the slightest intention of negotiating, spoke,

the seven staves were slowly raised.

At the same time, Gringham's scream rang out. "Retreat!"

As if they'd been just waiting for him to say the word, everyone ran as

fast as they could. They raced in the opposite direction of the elder liches. Of

course, they didn't have the presence of mind to consider what might be at

the end of the hallway. They just wanted to survive the excessive power of

the mob of elder liches a little longer.

At the front of the line was the thief. Then came Gringham, the wizard,

the priest, and the warrior.

The workers ran. They ran with no misgivings.

A corner. Normally, they would be on the lookout for monsters or traps,

but with footsteps coming after them, they didn't have time to make cautious

observations. They left their fates to chance and raced on.

Both sides of the hallway had stone doors, but when they imagined the

possibility of dead ends, the courage to open one was nowhere to be found.

The clanking of the workers in metal armor as they ran echoed off the

walls. The noise could have given away their position to other monsters, but

they didn't have the presence of mind to cast Silence.

They ran, and ran, and ran.

They pumped their legs in a frenzy, turned random corners, and got lost

after sprinting down each hallway; they no longer had any idea where they

were.

They would have liked to get back to the entrance, but they didn't have

the wherewithal.

"Are they still behind us?" Gringham shouted as they ran.

The warrior bringing up the rear answered, "Yeah! They're running after

us!"

"Dammit!"

"Don't run! Use Fly!"

"If they flew over here, the next thing that would fly at us would be spells,

you idiot!"

"Let's hole up in one of these little rooms and try to negotiate!" the wizard

shouted, gasping for air. He was the weakest of the group and seemed about

ready to collapse.

This is bad, thought Gringham. Physically, he's not going to last much

longer.

Undead monsters like elder liches didn't get tired. If Gringham and his

men kept getting chased, they would slowly be killed off as they ran out of

energy.

"Why the heck are there that many elder liches…?"

Common sense said this situation couldn't be.

"The master of this tomb must be stronger than an elder lich, huh?"

That was the only answer that made sense. But did such an undead even

exist? Gringham didn't know.

"Dammit! This fucking tomb!" the wheezing warrior at the end of the line

screamed.

As if on cue, a crest appeared glowing in the floor. It was big enough to

capture all of Gringham and his teammates inside.

"Wha—?!"

Someone's voice, something like a scream, rang out…

This floating sensation was different from the fall earlier.

Gringham's field of vision was enveloped in pitch-black. He could hear

things crunching and snapping underfoot and sensed his body slowing

sinking. It felt like he'd been thrown into a swamp. He panicked for a split

second before realizing it didn't seem terribly deep. He sank to about his hips

but no farther.

In the darkness ruled by quiet, he asked in the timid voice of a boy who'd

lost sight of his parents, "…Is anybody there?"

"Over here, Gringham." The voice of the thief gave an immediate answer

—and from not too far away. He was probably about as far away as he had

been while they were running.

"…Is anyone else around?"

There was no reply. He'd expected as much. If there wasn't a light, it

meant his wizard and warrior weren't around. He just had to count himself

lucky the thief was there.

"…Seems like it's just us."

"Thou art…tch! Ya, you're right."

He scanned their surroundings without taking a single step. The deep

darkness went on forever, and a fear welled up inside him—he couldn't tell

where the darkness stopped and his body started.

There's no sign of anything moving, but…

"Should we turn on a light?"

"Guess we have to."

It was unfortunate, but despite countless worries—moving would break

the silence, maybe it would trigger a trap—their human eyes couldn't

penetrate the darkness. They needed a light no matter what.

"Okay, just a sec."

Gringham sensed some rummaging around from the direction of the thief.

Then a light appeared.

The first thing he saw was the thief holding up the Fluorescent Stick.

Next, innumerable gleams, reflections of the light. It reminded him of the

treasure they'd seen in the mausoleum—but something was different.

Gringham frantically bit back the scream that welled up deep in his throat.

The thief's face also seemed to cramp up.

The countless reflections, the sparkles, were bugs—cockroaches—that

completely buried the area. The smallest were the size of the tip of his pinkie

finger, but the largest were over three feet long. Layers upon layers of

cockroaches.

The crunching sensation beneath his feet was trampled cockroaches.

Considering the bugs were piled up to his hips, he didn't want to imagine

how many of them there must have been.

The room was so large the light didn't reach its walls. Considering the

range of a Fluorescent Stick was around fifteen yards, they got an idea of

how big the room was. When they looked up at the ceiling, there were a great

many cockroaches reflecting the light there as well.

"Where…are we…?" the thief gasped in a murmur.

Gringham understood how he felt. He must have thought the bugs would

start to move if he raised his voice.

"What the hell happened?"

As the thief scanned the area, Gringham recalled the scene before they

found themselves in this darkness, the magic circle that had appeared on the

floor, and asked, "…Probably a pitfall, no?"

"No, it can't be that. I think we were hit by some magic…"

"A teleportation trap…? Or did the elder liches cast something?"

Teleportation spells were normal. For instance, there was the tier-three

escape spell, Dimensional Move. But that only teleported the user. To

teleport someone else—and more than one person at that—

"There's some tier-six spell that can teleport multiple people, I think,

right?"

"Ahh yeah, I think you're right."

"But could there really be someone who can use it…?"

Gringham didn't even know of that many casters who could use tier five.

But it still made sense to him. He could see how there would be multiple

elder liches here if such an absolute power existed. It would probably have no

problem dominating them and ordering them around.

It hit Gringham what a dangerous place this tomb was, and he shuddered.

He also felt a hostility toward the count, the requester, appear inside him. Of

course, it was Gringham and his team who had taken the job; they'd

understood the risks and bet the chips of their lives. If someone had said he

was just blaming his problems out on the count, there wouldn't have been

any way to argue.

But the count should have been informed to some degree. If he weren't,

he wouldn't have made the request to survey the tomb, offered such a large

reward, gathered together so many workers, and sent them there.

"So he was sitting on some info? Shit… Let's hurry up and get out of

here. These ruins…should have been left untouched."

"Yeah, sounds good. I'll go out in front, Gringham. Follow me."

It seemed like the thief hadn't realized yet—that none of the cockroaches

were moving one bit—but that was probably for the best.

Gringham flicked his eyes over all the cockroaches before him.

From the way their feelers were moving slightly, he could tell they

weren't dead, but they didn't budge. An uncanny feeling he couldn't place

took root in his mind.

"No, I doubt you can escape."

Suddenly, a third voice sounded.

"Who's there?"

Gringham and the thief scanned the area in a panic but couldn't sense

anything moving.

"Oh, how rude of me. I am the Prince of Fear, the one who was granted

this realm by Lord Ainz. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

When they looked in the direction the voice came from, something

strange appeared in their line of sight. Something was shoving the

cockroaches aside, trying to get out from beneath them.

They weren't at a range where they could use close-proximity weapons.

The thief silently drew his bow. Gringham moved to get out his sling—but

stopped. He thought if it came to it, he would wade through the cockroaches

and cut the thing.

Before long, the creature pushing through the other cockroaches emerged

—and it was yet another cockroach.

But it had an elegance that set it apart from its surrounding brethren. This

cockroach was nearly a foot tall and stood upright on two legs.

It wore a brilliant red cape gorgeously bordered in gold thread, and a

golden crown sparkled on its head. In its forelegs, it carried a scepter with a

pure-white jewel at the tip.

The strangest thing of all was that despite standing upright, its head was

still pointed at Gringham and the thief. If a normal insect stood upright, its

head would, of course, point up. But this odd being before them was

different.

Besides that, there wasn't anything else in particular to separate it from

the other cockroaches. But that one difference was plenty.

The worker pair exchanged glances and decided that Gringham would be

in charge of negotiations. The thief still had an arrow nocked. Once

Gringham made sure it was pointed down, he addressed the Prince of Fear.

"Who…are you?"

"Hmm. It seems you weren't paying attention just now. Shall I introduce

myself again?"

"No, I don't mean like that—" Having gotten that far, Gringham realized

that wasn't what he needed to be asking. "…I'll be blunt. Want to make a

deal?"

"Oh-ho. A deal? I'm grateful to you both, so I'm not adverse to the idea."

The mystery contained in those words—what was he grateful for?—gave

Gringham pause, but he wasn't in a position to ask.

"We would like…to be let out of this room unharmed."

"I see. That's only natural. But even if you got out of this room, we're

currently on the second level of the Great Tomb of Nazarick. I must advise

you, it would be extremely difficult to return to the surface."

The second level…

Gringham's eyes widened at the words.

"Am I right in thinking that the area through the door at a slight descent

from the mausoleum on the surface is level one?"

"Isn't that the usual way to count them?"

"Well, yeah, but I just wanted to confirm."

"Ha-haa! Well, you were teleported from level one, so it makes sense that

you're a little turned around."

With the cockroach before him somehow nodding its head, Gringham felt

a freezing chill like he'd been stabbed with an icicle.

It was fear due to his earlier conversation with the thief being affirmed.

It meant that somehow—who knew?—someone had used teleportation

magic like a trap. What kind of spell? What sort of technique? He wasn't a

caster, but even he knew what an incredible feat that was.

"…It would be great if you would also tell us how to get out of the tomb,

but we aren't hoping for that much. Letting us out of this room is fine."

"Hmm, hmm."

"In return, we'll…give you what you want."

"I see…" The Prince of Fear nodded emphatically and appeared to be

thinking things over.

A short time passed in the quiet room. Soon enough, the Prince of Fear

seemed to have made up his mind and spoke.

"I already have what I want. Anything you are capable of offering is

insufficient."

Gringham was about to speak, but the prince held up his forelegs to

silence him and continued.

"But before we get to that, you seem to be wondering why I'm grateful to

you, so I will satisfy that curiosity now. My kin are sick and tired of

cannibalism; thus, you two delectable morsels have my thanks."

"Wha—?!"

The moment he comprehended the words, the thief loosed his arrow.

It flew through the air, got caught in the prince's cape, and fell

impotently.

Then the room began to squirm.

With myriad rustling noises, the prince's kin formed something gigantic.

And there was a tsunami.

A dark torrent.

"It's a terrible shame that there are only two of you, but please try to fill

the stomachs of my kin."

The massive, swollen wave engulfed Gringham and the thief. It was

exactly like they'd been hit by a tidal wave.

As he was swallowed up by the black maelstrom, Gringham frantically

batted at the cockroaches coming in through the gaps in his armor.

A weapon wouldn't work against a mass of tiny insects, but Gringham

didn't have any area-of-effect attacks. It was faster to just swat them with his

hands. For that reason, he'd already thrown away his weapon and had no idea

where it had gone.

He tried to flail his arms, but it was difficult to move now that he was

completely covered in bugs. The scene was like a drowning man's

floundering. The only sound he could hear was the scrabbling of countless

cockroaches.

It was impossible to make out the voice of his teammate, the thief, over

the din.

But of course he couldn't hear the thief's voice. The thief was in no

condition to speak due to the cockroaches crawling into his mouth, down his

throat, and even into his stomach.

Gringham felt prickling pains here and there; the cockroaches that had

invaded through the cracks in his armor were gnawing at him.

"N—!" He tried to scream, but cockroaches plugged up his mouth. He

frantically spat them out, but others forced their way through the slight part in

his lips. And his mouth crawled with them.

Perhaps small ones had entered his ears? The rustling grew awfully loud,

and he started to itch.

Innumerable cockroaches squirmed on his face, biting into him. Pain in

his eyelids, but he couldn't open his eyes. It was easy to guess what would

happen if he did.

Gringham had already understood what would become of him—that at

this rate, he would be eaten alive by cockroaches.

"I can't stand this!" he screamed, and the bugs poured in. They tried to

wriggle down his throat. Then he felt something slip down and drop into his

stomach. The sensation of a live cockroach running amok in his belly made

him sick.

He struggled for all he was worth.

I don't want to die like this.

He wanted to show up his older brothers. That was the driving force that

had gotten him here.

He'd already saved enough money to live comfortably without

adventuring anymore, and with his reputation, he could wed the kind of

beautiful girl one would never meet in a village. Whether in power or wealth,

he should have already surpassed his brothers—he had won at life.

So he didn't want to meet his end like this.

"Aghblorgh—aagh! I'm getting out of here aliiiive!" he screamed, spitting

out chewed-up cockroaches.

"You're really hanging on, aren't you? Well, let's have seconds."

A few moments later, even his screams were swallowed up by the black

maelstrom.

The man's eyes snapped open.

His field of vision contained a ceiling. It was made of stone and

something giving off white light was embedded in it. He couldn't understand

why he was there, and when he tried to look around, he realized he couldn't

move his head. No, not only his head. His wrists, ankles, hips, and chest had

been tied to something—he was essentially immobilized.

The incomprehensible situation frightened him, and he wanted to scream,

but there was something fitted to his mouth that prevented him from closing

it or speaking.

As he was desperately rolling his eyes around, trying to take in the area,

he heard a voice.

"Oh? You're awake?"

A deep, rough voice. He couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman.

A horrifying monster moved into his field of vision.

Although it had a human body, its head resembled a warped octopus. Six

tentacles hung down to around its thighs, wriggling.

The thing's skin tone was the muddled white of a drowning victim. Just

like a drowning victim, its body was bloated, and instead of clothes, it was

bound in a few black leather belts. They pressed into its flesh like the string

used to tie a roast, and the resulting sight was awful. If a beautiful woman

had been wearing them, she would have been alluring, but this terrible

monster was sickening.

It had four thin, webbed fingers per hand. Its nails were long, but they

were all gorgeously manicured with strange art.

That was the weird creature who turned its pale, murky, pupil-less eyes on

the man.

"Ooh-hoo-hoo! Did you sleep all right, honey?"

He just panted.

Shock and horror. Those two emotions combined to make his breath

rough. A hand caressed his cheek with the kindness a mother would use to

calm a frightened child.

It felt horribly cold and clammy and sent shudders through his entire

body.

It would have been perfect if it had smelled like blood and rot, but instead

it carried the pleasant scent of flowers. That only terrified him further.

"Oh, you don't have to be scared to the point of shrinking like that!"

The monster was eyeing his crotch. He only now realized, from the

feeling of the air on his skin, that he was naked.

"Umm, perhaps I should ask your name, honey."

A thin finger poked into the area that seemed to be the monster's cheek,

and it cocked its head. If a pretty girl had done it, it would have been nice to

see, but this was an octopus-headed, drowned-body monster. All he felt was

hatred and fear.

"…"

The monster smiled at him as his eyes darted around. Its mouth was

completely concealed by its tentacles, and its expression had hardly changed.

The way he knew it had smiled was that its cold, glass-like eyes had

narrowed.

"Ooh-hoo-hoo-hoo! So you don't want to say? What a cutie, all bashful."

The monster ran a finger over his bare chest as if writing something, but

all he felt was the terror that his heart might be ripped out at any moment.

"First, I'll tell you my name, honey-bunny." Syrupy words that seemed

punctuated with heart marks—in that deep, coarse voice. "I'm Neuronist, the

Great Tomb of Nazarick's Special Officer of Intelligence Gathering. Well,

I'm also called the Officer of Torture…"

The long tentacles undulated, revealing the mouth at their base. A tube

slipped out like a tongue from the opening lined with pointy fangs. It was just

like a straw.

"Pretty soon I'll give you a little kiss and slurrrp."

What are you going to slurp?! Disturbed, he tried to move, but he was

completely restrained.

"Now then, now then. So, we caught you."

Yes. The last thing he remembered was Gringham and the thief running

ahead of him disappearing. From then up until now was a blank.

"You must at least know where you are." Neuronist smiled and went on.

"This is the Great Tomb of Nazarick where the last of the Forty-One

Supreme Beings, Lord Momo—no, Ainz resides. It's the most sacred place in

the world."

"Row Aith?"

"Yes, Lord Ainz." Although he couldn't pronounce things properly,

Neuronist understood and ran its hands over his skin. "He's one of the FortyOne Supreme Beings. He was once their leader. And he's so, so wonderful. If

you see him someday, you'll want to devote yourself to him, too! If he called

me to bed, I'd even let him be my first time." The monster didn't fidget but

fairly writhed back and forth, as if embarrassed. "Hey, listen to this." The

monster doodled with a finger on his chest in the same way a bashful young

girl would toy with her hands. "Last time Lord Ainz came here, he was

staring at my body! It was the gaze of a male selecting his prey. And then he

awkwardly averted his eyes! Oh, it gave me butterflies in my chest and chills

down my spine."

It suddenly stopped moving and leaned closer to peer into his eyes. He

was desperate to escape from the odd-looking thing, but his body didn't

budge.

"Little Shalltear and ugly Albedo both seem to be after Lord Ainz's

affections, too, but I definitely have more charm than them! Don't you

think?"

"Yeth, I thoo."

What would happen to me if I didn't agree? The fear made him answer in

the affirmative.

Neuronist smiled and, clasping its hands together, gazed into space. It

looked just like a religious fanatic praying to the heavens.

"Ooh-hoo-hoo. You're so nice, honey. Or are you simply telling the truth

as it is? But why doesn't he call me, then…? Ahh, Lord Ainz… I love how

stoic he can be…"

Its emotional trembling reminded him of the writhing of a fat annelid.

It sighed. "Ah, he makes me quiver. Oh, but I'm so sorry for rambling on

like this."

Please just forget me. But Neuronist ignored his thoughts and continued.

"I'll go ahead and tell you what fate has in store for you. Do you know

what a choir is?"

He blinked blankly at the sudden question.

Perhaps deciding his confusion meant he didn't understand, Neuronist

began to explain. "It's a chorus that sings sacred songs, hymns, to glorify and

adore a god. I'm going to have you be a member. With your friend."

If that was all, it wouldn't be so bad. It wasn't as if he was confident in his

singing, but he wasn't tone-deaf, either. Was this monster really after

something so commonplace, though? Unable to conceal his creeping worry,

he gave Neuronist a sidelong look.

"Really, honey. A choir. Even if you fools haven't sworn allegiance to

Lord Ainz, singing loudly can be an offering to him. Yes, I want you to sing

all together. Ahh, it gives me chills—gospel music from Neuronist to Lord

Ainz!"

A foggy color came over its creepy eyes. Had it gotten overexcited from

its own imaginings? Its thin fingers wriggled like bugs.

"Ooh-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo. Now then, I'll introduce your chorus's helpers."

They must have been in the corner of the room up until then; several

figures abruptly moved into his field of vision.

Seeing the creatures made him forget to breathe for a moment—because it

was clear from a glance that they were evil.

They wore fitted black leather aprons. Their bodies were paler than milk.

Purple blood vessels were visible beneath that skin—if such a thing as purple

blood existed.

Black leather masks with not even the tiniest gap covered their entire

heads; how they saw anything or breathed was a mystery. And they had

extremely long arms—they were about six and a half feet tall, but if they

extended their arms, they probably would have reached past their knees.

They wore fully stocked tool belts around their hips.

There were four of these creatures.

"These are the torturers. These little dears are going to help me give you a

wonderful singing voice."

He had a bad feeling. Realizing what "singing" meant, he struggled

frantically to escape. But as expected, he couldn't move.

"It's no use, honey. You can't break the restraints with those puny

muscles. These little dears will cast healing magic on you so you can practice

a bunch!" It spoke in a tone that said, I'm so nice, aren't I?

"Thop id!" he screamed with tears in his eyes.

"Hmm? What's that? You want me to stop?" it asked him gently. Then it

waved its six tentacles.

"Listen here, honey-bunny. We creations of the Supreme Beings are

permitted to exist because he stayed behind. We exist to serve him. Do you

really think we would show a crumb of mercy to a bunch of thieves who

tramped into his house with their dirty feet? Really?"

"I'm thowwy!"

"Yes, that's right. Repentance is vital."

Neuronist took a thin rod out from somewhere. It was topped with a thorn

less than a fifth of an inch long.

"First, I'll use this."

He didn't know what it was for, so Neuronist gleefully explained.

"My creator suffered from a horrible little thing called urethral calculus.

So I'll perform this act in honor of him. You're all little right now, so I think

it'll go in nice and easy."

"Noo, thop!"

Upon realizing what was about to happen, he began to sob, and Neuronist

drew its face in close.

"We're going to be together for quite some time. Things'll be tough if you

start crying now, honey."

3

The teams had all chosen different directions at an intersection, and Elya

Uzruth chose the path straight ahead based on his unfounded belief that the

strongest enemies would be in the back.

Along the way there had been stone doors and too many corners to count,

but he just kept walking silently in what he felt was the right way. He was

bored stiff by how uneventful it had been. Not only were there no monsters,

there weren't even any traps.

Is this the wrong way? Elya wondered and clicked his tongue.

"You dolt. Keep going." He gave orders in a sharp tone to the elf slave he

was making walk about ten yards ahead because it seemed like she was about

to stop. She trembled a split second and then trudged forward. She'd barely

been allowed any rest since they'd entered the tomb.

So far, luckily, nothing had happened, but if there was a trap, there was a

good chance she'd die.

It was less like he was having her search for traps and more like he was

sending her into a mine as his canary. Elya's team was made up of himself

and three elf slaves with different abilities: ranger, priest, druid. It was a

waste to order her out front when he had no replacement for her search skills

—but he had his reasons.

He was simply sick of her.

Many people hearing this would be shocked. Not from an ethical

standpoint, but in terms of finances.

Slaves from the Slane Theocracy were not cheap. Especially for elves, the

price could jump dramatically depending on their looks and what skills they

possessed. Usually they fetched eye-popping prices; ordinary citizens

couldn't hope to get their hands on one.

When it came to elves with skills, they were worth about as much as an

enchanted weapon with some special effect. Even Elya couldn't shell out that

much over and over.

But Elya took all of Tenbu's compensation for himself, so if things went

well, he could make his money back quicker than one would guess. That was

why if he was sick of an elf, he didn't have to worry if she died.

Next time I want one with slightly bigger breasts… That was what he was

thinking as he watched the elf trudging ahead. It's fun to grab 'em hard and

make 'em scream…

Since this was a joint job, he hadn't bedded an elf in several days. Not that

anyone would complain if he did, but there could be some unpleasantness due

to jealousy. Elya had enough common sense as a worker to know what a

disadvantage that could become.

But the built-up desire was giving him daydreams.

"Or maybe next time I'll try to get one like that lady."

The one he had in mind was a member of Foresight—a half elf who

always looked at him with loathing in her eyes.

She was truly a pain.

There was another woman, maybe more like a girl, on that team with her.

He accepted the openly antipathetic way she looked at him. Women rarely

understood a man's sex drive, and at her age, she probably thought boys had

cooties. But he couldn't forgive the lower life-form looking at a human like

the half elf did.

Even just remembering it caused the flames of anger to scorch his

handsome features.

"I'd like to beat that disgusting face of hers until she can't resist

anymore…"

By the time elf slaves reached their owner's hands, they'd had their spirit

broken in various ways. An elf slave would never rebel.

But if he set his sights on that half elf, she would struggle against him like

a wild animal. It wouldn't be difficult for him to break and conquer her, but

he probably wouldn't make it through unscathed, and he wasn't at all

confident he could take her alive.

Envisioning himself punching Imina several times in the face, he was

slow to realize the elf walking ahead of him had stopped.

"Why did you stop? Walk."

"Eek…! I, uh, I hear a noise."

"A noise?" He frowned at the elf, who had mustered all her courage to

answer, and focused all his attention on his ears. The area was silent—so still

it hurt.

"…I don't hear it." Normally he would strike her at that point, but elves

had better hearing than humans. There was a good chance that even if he

couldn't pick it up, the elves could. To confirm, he asked the other two next

to him. "How about you two?"

"Y-yes, I hear something."

"Th-the sound of metal clanging."

"…Is that so?"

The sound of metal clanging would definitely not arise in nature.

So it had to be a sound someone was making. In other words, it was

possible they would engage in combat for the first time since entering the

tomb. The thought excited Elya.

"We're going to find whatever it is that's making that sound."

"Y-yes, sir."

He had the elf walk out front, and they proceeded in the direction of the

noise.

Before long, Elya could also hear the metallic clanging. Two hard things

were clashing with quite some force. Then a sharp scream.

"Is it another team fighting? I didn't intend to move in an arc, but it seems

we've come across one of the other groups." With a bucket of cold water

thrown over his near-giddy excitement, Elya lost his motivation and sighed.

"Well, it's fine. Maybe we can fight as reinforcements."

As they continued walking toward the source of the noise, Elya began to

feel something was off, that for a battle, it didn't sound right. It's almost as if

it's—

His doubt was cleared up when they turned the corner. It was a room big

enough for dozens of people to run around inside. Inside were ten lavishly

armored lizardmen. They all had collars around their necks, but the chains

were severed and hung loosely.

They were swinging swords at one another. The blows were unleashed

with intense screams and repelled with determined slashes. These exchanges

were going on throughout the room. The scene resembled a fierce battle, but

Elya saw at a glance that it was training.

The fact that they stopped the moment Elya and the others entered the

room made it certain.

Also inside were one giant, with a tower shield, wearing black full plate

armor that had a crimson pattern like blood vessels, and someone else—or

perhaps something else was more accurate.

It was a huge magical beast with a silver coat and wise eyes.

"So you've finally come, have you, raiders?"

Magical beasts who could talk were usually trouble. Magical beasts

usually just forced things with their robust physiques, but the highly

intelligent ones could use magic.

Elya was sure of himself as a genius swordsman, but he wasn't so great

with magic. Flexing his core and steeling his mind, he prepared to resist his

opponent's spells and asked, "Who are you?"

He probably didn't need to. As long as it was waiting for them, it had to

be one of the tomb's defenders. The question was: Where in the hierarchy?

From the beast's appearance, it was possible that it was the master of the

tomb. If that was the case, slaying it would be meritorious service of the first

rank. It would make his team the most outstanding one on the job. Tenbu was

Elya's team and his alone. That would mean he was the best of all the

workers there. Luck was an important part of being a worker.

"I was told to act as your opponent, that I was. We were supposed to test

several things, that we were, but…you're no match for me, no, you're not."

Disappointment and irritation assailed him at once. The former was due to

the fact that this monster was only a watchman. The latter was due to being

taken lightly.

"You're gonna say that without even fighting me? Hey!"

"S-sir!"

The elf he'd called for in a low voice jumped. The sight of it was

immensely satisfying. That was the proper attitude for addressing him. His

mind was soothed after the irritation of spending so much time cohabitating

with Momon, whom everyone looked up to.

"What kind of magical beast is that?"

"I-I-I'm sorry. I-I'm not familiar with it."

"Tch! Useless."

He struck the useless elf with the hilt of his sword.

She fell to the floor and, covering her face, issued a stream of apologies,

but he ignored her and examined the magical beast's build.

It was so big that attacking it head-on didn't seem like it would be

advantageous, but that's how most magical beasts were, and he'd killed

plenty of them. It was ridiculous to be scared of it just because it was a type

he didn't know.

Caution was necessary, but going past cautious to scared was the height of

incompetence.

"Let me ask you something. Do you have any reason for believing you

can win against me?"

"You look so weak, that you do…"

Elya scowled and he gripped his sword harder. "Well, it seems like

you've got knotholes for eyes. Shall I gouge them out for you?"

"Please do not, that I ask. Now then, my orders say it's all right for me to

kill you, that they do, so…let's start this fight, shall we?"

Its tone was carefree. That further irritated Elya.

He wanted to just attack without saying anything more, but swinging his

sword at the magical beast while it was so composed would make him feel

inferior. So he held himself back and scoffed. "Yes, let's—beast."

"By the way, I wonder what you're doing, that I do. Those elves need to

prepare, do they not?"

"I don't need them. More importantly, those lizards behind you…"

"Yes, no need to worry about them, no, there isn't. They are only here to

watch us, that they are. Pay no attention to them, that I say."

"Giving up your sole chance at victory? You're a brave one."

"I'm glad for your praise, that I am."

So it doesn't understand sarcasm. It understands words, but I guess it's

not that smart? Elya was thinking, when the beast spoke again, wiggling its

whiskers.

"Even so, I'll mercilessly kill you, that I will, so come at me with your

full strength, that I wish. As I said earlier, this is a test for me, that it is…"

"A test? As a gatekeeper?"

"Not quite, no. A test of whether I've progressed as a warrior or not, that

it is. Now then, it's about time for me to attack, that it is. For the moment I

will not fight the elves behind you, no, I won't, only you."

"As you wish. Have at me."

"I am Hamusuke! Remember the name of the one who killed you and go

to the next world, that I say. Give me your name as well, that you should!"

"…I have no name a beast needs to know."

"Then I will strike you from my memory as a fool with no name, that I

will!"

The huge monster charged all at once.

It was incredibly nimble for its size. A lesser warrior would have been

overwhelmed by the pressure bearing down on him and been unable to avoid

serious injury from the beast's body check.

But I'm not like those twerps.

Elya drew Hamusuke's charge to the last moment and then slid to the side

without moving his feet.

This was the effect of an improved version of the martial art Contracting

Earth, Contracting Earth Revised.

Contracting Earth was usually only used to close a gap between oneself

and one's opponent, but it could shift the user in any direction. It looked

rather strange to change position without moving one's feet, but it was very

practical.

Evading with a large movement always resulted in instability. Without

that loss of balance, however, it was possible to flow directly into an attack

and put one's weight into it.

"Yaargh!"

He brought his sword down and—

"Guhblergh!"

Hamusuke bounced into him and he went flying.

Its body felt unbelievably hard.

The soft-looking silver pelt was actually as solid as metal. From Elya's

point of view, he'd been hit with a wrecking ball. His consciousness even

whited out for a split second.

The moment he hit the floor, he confirmed, practically by instinct, that he

could still move all his parts.

He had bruises, but nothing was broken. He was still plenty able to fight.

His mind was nearly overrun by rage that he was lying on the ground and

had shamefully taken his opponent's hit, but the warrior in him scolded

himself; now wasn't the time to think those things.

As he stood up, he simultaneously took note of Hamusuke's position and

pointed his sword to meet the beast's charge.

Something slimy ran from his nose. He wiped it away with a hand, and as

expected, it was blood.

"You vile bitch…"

Hamusuke watched, unmoving, in silence as Elya got to his feet. Perhaps

observed is the best word.

They were not the eyes of a beast wondering, Can I eat this? Can I defeat

it? but the eyes of a warrior trying to judge how best to fight based on their

brief exchange of blows.

I'm the test to see if this beast can develop into a warrior? Me?!

It wasn't pleasant, but he had to acknowledge that her movements were

not those of a mere animal. The previous attack had been a leaping body

check upon seeing that he had gotten around her flank. She wasn't terribly

powerful, but the fact that she had been able to respond to the situation had to

be due to training.

"I see, that I do… If I keep chipping away at you, I can win with ease, that

I can. Oh, but don't feel bad, no, you should not. I have never met a human

who could defeat me, no, I haven't."

"Try saying that after you get a load of this! Unlike beasts, warriors have

martial arts!"

He had thought he could win with energy to spare, so he hadn't used

them, but he no longer had that leeway.

"Martial arts: Ability Boost! Greater Ability Boost!"

He was proud of these arts, especially Greater Ability Boost; it usually

couldn't be acquired by someone of Elya's level.

The fact that I could get it proves I'm a prodigy! I really am strong!

He swung his sword. His body felt light; his movements were smooth. His

sword moved as if tracing a perfect image.

He smirked. Now it's my turn.

"Hmm. You're supposed to take some distance when unsure of your

opponent's strength, that you are…but…as a warrior I must fight, that I must!

It can't be helped, no, it cannot!" Hamusuke closed in walking on two feet.

"A close-quarters fight, that it is! Can you handle it? That I ask!"

"Don't underestimate me, beast."

As soon as she was in range, he slashed.

At the last moment, Hamusuke used her claws to parry the attack Elya

unleashed with his boosted body. Or more accurately, she tried to—because

the sword slipped into her foreleg. But it had lost a lot of momentum, so it

couldn't rip into her tough pelt or cut the meat beneath.

Without bringing his katana back, he lunged at Hamusuke's eyes. Some

monsters could repel shabby swords with the protective film over their eyes,

and some warriors could repel an amateur's sword with chi or an aura. But

Hamusuke didn't seem to have any defensive powers like that.

For precisely that reason, Hamusuke couldn't allow him that attack.

At the same time she spun out of the thrusting blade's way, her tail went

flying at Elya.

He blocked it with his sword. The surprisingly intense impact turned to

numbness that spread up his arm. "Kgh!" He could see Hamusuke spinning

around once more. In other words, that impact was on its way again.

Elya jumped out of the way. He already had a pretty good idea of how

long her tail was. Once it passed him, he could use Contracting Earth Revised

to charge.

Just as he thought the tail was about to pass, it abruptly stopped.

"Urk!"

It had been a feint. In the interlude, Hamusuke had taken a different stance

and withdrawn her tail at the same time. Having lost the chance to leap at her,

Elya grimaced.

Her tail moved in a completely different way from her body. It was less

like a mouse's tail and more like the snake tail of a khimaira; it moved

independently.

"So your tail can move on its own?" Overwriting the data in his mind

about this magical beast, Hamusuke, Elya leaped at her.

Hamusuke, who had been waiting, intercepted.

Katana crossed claw. The one whose blood sprayed was Elya.

Hamusuke could attack with both paws, while Elya had only one sword,

so she had the greater number of strikes.

He was at a disadvantage at close quarters.

He had boosted his physical abilities, but Hamusuke still outclassed him.

In that case—

He used Contracting Earth Revised to retreat in one motion.

"Hmm. Hmm, I say."

Elya took the time before she came after him to raise his sword overhead

and bring it down again. "Air Slash!" His slash ripped through the air and

raced toward Hamusuke.

She'd hidden her face, and the attack hit her pelt.

The farther it had to fly, the less damage it dealt. It would be difficult to

land a fatal blow with it, but—

"Seems like you can't block that, can you? So there's the gap between

humans and beasts."

"Hmm, this is trouble…that it is."

He used Air Slash a few times in succession. Her pelt was tough. It would

be hard to break through it. That's why he aimed at the part of her that

seemed least defended—her face.

Hamusuke, pinned, didn't budge from where she stood. She just covered

her face and talked through a small gap. "Wait, that I ask—"

"Are you begging for your life? You really are just a beast after all."

"No, it—! Don't bother me, that I say! It's this thing in my mouth—ah,

never mind, no, do not!"

He had no idea what she was talking about.

Well, humans can't expect to understand a beast's ramblings… Still,

seems like she's about to charge!

"Ahhh, you're so annoying, that you really are! Here I come, that I do!"

"C'mon!"

Since Hamusuke didn't have a method of attacking from a distance, her

options were limited. She would probably try to force her way near him.

That's exactly what Elya was hoping for.

It would be hard to finish her with Air Slash, so he didn't have any way to

defeat her except with something more direct. When she ran at him, she

would run with her beastly face thrust toward him. He would stop her in her

tracks by using a martial art stronger than Air Slash. Then, if he kept

pummeling her face at close range, he was sure to win.

Confident in his victory, Elya's face twisted into a brutal smile, but just

then Hamusuke's tail made a slithering motion.

And then—

"Ugyaaaa!"

The tail, flexible like a whip, struck his shoulder with impossible speed.

The armor over his shoulder shrieked as it dented and crushed his flesh.

At the same time, the snapping of his bones reverberated inside his body, and

a lightning bolt of pain shot toward his brain.

It was so intense viscous drool dribbled from his mouth as he beat a

staggering retreat.

Behind Hamusuke, her tail was weaving around like a snake. It was

bizarrely long.

"As I thought, my tail is too strong, that it is. I wanted to finish this at

close quarters for that reason, that I did."

This is bad.

Elya bit back a scream.

If she charged at him while he was in this state, he would lose.

"Y-you guys! What're you doing standing around like that?! Cast

something! Healing! Heal me! Hurry up and cast healing on me, slaves!"

At their master's order, one of the elves rushed to begin casting a spell.

The pain in his shoulder drained away until it was gone.

"You're not done yet! Support magic!"

Not only did they boost his physical abilities, his sword was temporarily

enchanted, his skin was hardened, his senses were sharpened… Hamusuke

looked on as innumerable support spells were cast.

As the many spells took effect on Elya, a sneer appeared on his face once

more.

A vast amount of energy coursed through his body.

He'd never lost with this many magic boosts, no matter how immensely

powerful his opponent had been.

His sword whooshed as he swung it, moving much faster than usual. Like

this, he was confident he could fight with Hamusuke on equal or better

footing.

"There's a basic difference in physical ability between humans and

magical beasts, you know! Now I've filled the gap!"

"I intended to take all of you at once in the first place, so I don't mind at

all, no, I don't. Or rather, I too hope this fight will finally get good, that I do."

"Keep talking!"

Elya rushed forward. I'm going to crush her all at once with this energy

filling me up! He wasn't going to let her give him lip any longer. As he used

Contracting Earth Revised, he unleashed Air Slash as a diversion.

"Take this!"

At the same time as his shout, he brought his sword down with all his

might. If her pelt was tough, he would just have to hit her harder than it could

handle.

The blade he'd swung with his full power…

"Slash, that I use!"

A sharpness from above struck down on his arms.

Something went spinning through the air and crashed to the floor. A

metallic clank and a sound like a wet sack dropping echoed out.

Elya couldn't understand why the two arms that had been holding his

sword up until a moment ago had vanished—even though the sprays of blood

from their stumps pulsed in time with his heartbeat.

The excruciating pain… His arms, still gripping his sword, on the floor at

some distance from him…

Seeing these truths, Elya finally began to grasp reality.

As he staggered away from Hamusuke, he screamed in a shaking voice,

"My arrrrrrms! H-h-heal me! Hurry up!"

The elves didn't move.

In their dull eyes was the dark happiness of those who had been treated

cruelly.

"Okay! Success, that it is! I used a martial art, that I did! Now my master

will praise me, that he will!"

"Eegh!" Elya emitted a hoarse shriek.

In this world dominated by creatures stronger than humans, adventuring

meant living next door to pain.

He had experienced all sorts in his life. He had broken bones, been struck

by lightning, burned with fire, frozen with chill, bitten, cut, smashed. Still,

he'd never dropped his weapon. Perhaps that was only natural in a world

where losing one's grip on one's weapon led to death. He had been confident

that as long as he had his katana, he could make it out of any situation.

But now that confidence was shattered.

This shock he was experiencing for the first time.

"My arms! Now!"

His blood sprayed and a cold heaviness began to spread from the cut

edges.

In response to Elya's thunderous shouts, the elves just grinned.

Elya had no idea what to call the emotions flooding his heart.

Hamusuke addressed him in a way that could be termed gentle. "I thank

you, that I do! I'm not fond of causing suffering, so I'll end this now, that I

will."

Something whooshed through the air.

A moment later something hit his face. A pain great enough to make him

forget about his severed arms coursed through him, and he sensed everything

coming apart.

That was the last pain Elya felt.

The corpse with its face half-crushed in fell heavily to the floor.

Hamusuke nodded and withdrew. If she was nearby, the elves probably

couldn't approach the man. They seemed like casters, but maybe one of them

would pick up his sword and challenge her. She didn't want to get in the way

of that.

"Now then, would you all also like to—?"

Having taken some distance, Hamusuke looked up and faltered. The elves

were laughing and kicking the corpse of the warrior who should have been

their friend.

"What's this? That I ask! An elven burial rite, is it?" she asked but felt it

had to be something else. A tinge of joy had appeared in their leaden eyes.

They had to be venting their hatred.

"…Well, I don't know what to do now, no, I don't."

Use all the skills you've learned so far on the raiders. Show me the fruits

of your training. That's what she'd been told, and that's how she'd been

fighting. But would attacking elves who weren't even hostile still count as

putting her training on display? She at least wanted them to oppose her.

"I've heard provocation is effective, that I have…but what to say? That I

wonder. I don't know, no, I don't. That's no helping it, no, there is not. I'll

wait for word from my master, that I will. Oh, but—" She turned to the one

who was grading her fight. "Master Zaryusu, how did I do? That I ask! A

passing grade, is it?"

"Yes. Magnificent. You definitely used a martial art."

The lizardman teaching her the ways of the warrior nodded, and

Hamusuke broke into a smile.

"I'm so happy, that I am. Next I will learn how to wear armor, will I?"

"Yeah, that'll be next. We'll start with lighter gear and gradually increase

the weight."

Hamusuke wasn't able to wear armor, mainly because she just felt so

weird when she put it on that she couldn't move how she wanted. She didn't

have any trouble running around and changing position under normal

conditions, but in battle when she tried to wield her tail, she lost her balance

and missed her target. That's why she was learning by watching her

lizardman instructor's example.

"Now I can show my master how much stronger I've gotten for him, that I

can! I wonder when I'll be able to call myself a proper warrior, that I do!

Warrior Hamusuke, that I am!"

"Hmm… I'd guess in another month or two you'll be able to call yourself

a warrior."

"…That's so far away, that it is."

"Seems pretty quick to me, Hamusuke. Usually it takes a year before you

can finally use a martial art! When you think of it that way, it's so soon."

Zenbel, another lizardman standing next to Zaryusu, chimed in.

"You think so, do you?"

"Yes, that I do. Real battle training and healing wounds, using support

magic to battle someone stronger than you… You've been through some

hellish training, but you're still learning really fast."

Hamusuke shuddered, as did the lizardmen. The thought of all the training

they'd done was chilling.

"I'd be happy if we could train in ways that didn't make me think of the

word death, that I would…"

"I think fighting right on the edge of living and dying will make you

stronger, but… Well, to each his own. Plus, it'd be tragic for a newlywed to

die during a workout."

"Oh, that's right, you got married, that you did!"

"Yeah. She got pregnant, so…"

"Just the aim I'd expect from an exceptional warrior like you. You did it

like what, two or three times?"

Zaryusu stuck his fist into Zenbel. "That's enough. We have to get back to

our exercises. What should we do about those elves?"

"Eh, we can just leave them, that I think."

One by one the elves who had been punching and kicking their dead

owner this whole time plunked down on the floor like something had finally

snapped inside them. Hamusuke didn't sense any will to fight, so she decided

that unless she received word from her master or they tried to run away, she

would just leave them alone.