Chapter Ninety

In the wake of that epic and almost biblical battle, Kulshedra, the formidable Seven-Headed Dragon Lord, found herself in a state of surrender. Her indomitable spirit had been humbled, and she had even dared to plead for mercy. Facing off against the Supreme Overlord of Death, Ainz Ooal Gown, she had met her match.

Ainz, in his magnanimity, extended a helping hand to the beautiful dragonoid, aiding her in her recovery. Nevertheless, the weight of her defeat still bore heavily on her. The realization of her failure was a bitter pill to swallow, and she couldn't quite fathom how she had ended up in such a vulnerable state.

What truly astounded her was the forgiveness she found in the heart of the Sorcerer King. After the grave transgressions she had committed, Kulshedra couldn't fathom the clemency she had been shown.

Ainz's teleportation brought him back to the very spot where he had first encountered Kulshedra. The once-thriving city, bearing the weight of half a millennium of history, had been utterly eradicated from the surface of the earth. Not a single trace remained, not even a solitary broken brick to hint at the grandeur that had once defined the city.

In place of the city, a vast and desolate crater sprawled out, a stark testament to the tremendous power that had reshaped the land. This void seemed almost endless, stretching as far as the eye could see. Nature had begun to reclaim the devastated landscape, with water steadily seeping into the crater. The source of this deluge was none other than the massive lake created by the boundless water reserves of the flying fortress, Eryuentiu.

"And we are back," Ainz declared as he gazed upon the transformed landscape.

Kulshedra, her once-unyielding spirit now humbled, sought to understand her fate. "What do you plan to do with me if death is not the punishment you wish upon me?"

Ainz, his gaze steady, asked a seemingly innocuous question. "Where is your home?"

Her reply came, laced with a sense of nostalgia. "The Sea City."

Ainz's eyes flickered with recognition. "The Sea City? I've heard of it."

Kulshedra's next words were filled with a weight she couldn't ignore. "The city does not exist anymore. I destroyed it when I occupied the sea as my new home. But what about my home, Sorcerer King?"

Ainz, aware of the consequences of his actions, spoke solemnly. "Well, you can go home, and when I conquer that territory, do not harm my army."

Kulshedra, her curiosity piqued, sought further clarification. "Is that all? No chains on my neck or anything?"

Ainz's response carried a hint of an ominous undertone. "If I let my true undead nature punish you, my dear Kulshedra… you would have cursed the day you were born."

Chills coursed down Kulshedra's spine as she absorbed the gravity of his words. Uncertain if it was a threat or a mere statement of fact, she couldn't deny that crossing paths with this formidable undead being had been the gravest mistake of her life.

With a newfound understanding of the consequences, she could only reply, "I... understand, Sorcerer King."

Ainz's commanding voice rang out, marking the conclusion of their conversation. "You may leave, I have other matters to take care of."

With a heavy heart, Kulshedra lowered her head in deference. There were no words left to exchange. In silence, she unfurled her wings and took flight, heading toward the eastern horizon. As she soared through the skies, she couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that gripped her. It was as if the very purpose that had driven her existence had been stripped away. She had been humbled by the Sorcerer King, and her life had been spared, but the shame of her defeat weighed on her like a heavy burden.

The question that lingered in her mind was whether she would ever cross paths with the Sorcerer King again in the future. Her destiny remained uncertain, and the tale of her encounter with the Supreme Overlord of Death was far from over. The winds of change had swept through her world, leaving her to navigate uncharted waters, her path intertwined with the enigmatic being known as Ainz Ooal Gown.

Slane Theocracy

In the heart of the Slane Theocracy, the sacred capital known as Kami Miyako, a place that had long stood as the epicenter of human supremacy, had been utterly upended by the relentless onslaught of Nazar forces. What was once a city of serenity and sanctity had now become a nightmarish landscape of chaos and devastation.

Destruction ran rampant, with buildings reduced to smoldering ruins, their flames raging endlessly into the darkened sky. The streets, once a symbol of order and civilization, were now littered with the lifeless bodies of fallen soldiers, their armor tarnished and their banners trampled. Amidst this grim tableau, the corpses of innocent citizens who had been caught in the crossfire added to the heart-wrenching toll.

It was a war that the Slane Theocracy had brought upon itself, and now they were left to grapple with the bitter consequences of their actions. The once-mighty bastion of human pride and faith now lay in ruins, a stark reminder of the price paid for their zealous pursuit of power and dominion.

The remnants of the Slane Theocracy's once-proud army had been forced into a hasty retreat, their battered forces regrouping at the heart of the city. There, in the center of Kami Miyako, they established a makeshift perimeter, using whatever materials they could salvage from the chaos that had ensued.

Carriages, wooden boxes, and anything they could find were used to create a defensive barrier encircling the sacred Cathedral of Light. These humble fortifications were their last line of defense, a desperate effort to stave off the relentless advance of the invading Nazara forces, at least for the moment. The once-majestic capital had become a battleground, its fate hanging in the balance as the beleaguered Slane Theocracy fought to protect the heart of their faith and civilization.

Within the hastily erected perimeter, the beleaguered soldiers of the Slane Theocracy found themselves subjected to a relentless rain of arrows. The deadly projectiles fell from the sky like a deadly hailstorm, taking a deadly toll on those who had the misfortune of being caught without a shield or any form of cover.

Soldiers fell, one after the other, their once-ordered formation descending into chaos as they scrambled to protect themselves from the deadly onslaught. The air was filled with the harrowing sounds of arrows whistling through the air and the anguished cries of those who had been struck down. The soldiers inside the makeshift barricade had to navigate a deadly dance of life and death, every step fraught with danger as they struggled to maintain their defenses and keep the enemy at bay.

Amidst the chaos and the relentless barrage of enemy arrows, the determined Slane Theocracy commander barked orders to his beleaguered troops. His face was etched with a mixture of sweat and the blood of his fallen comrades, a testament to the fierce battle they were embroiled in.

"Shoot them, don't let them make any advance!" he shouted, his voice filled with urgency and resolve.

But as the battle raged on, a grim reality became evident. Their own supply of arrows was dwindling rapidly, and one of the soldiers had to deliver the harsh news. "Sir, we are running out of arrows!"

The commander, his eyes filled with desperation, refused to yield to despair. "Take the enemy's arrows from the bodies of our fallen soldiers," he ordered, his voice unwavering. "Get a rope, and turn it into a slingshot—just do something now, soldier!"

In the face of adversity, the commander's resourcefulness and determination shone through, as he sought every possible means to sustain the fight and hold the enemy at bay.

Angelos Arianiti, the resolute captain of the Black Scripture, emerged from the sacred Cathedral of Light, flanked by his steadfast comrades. A man who had once met his demise at the hands of the undead, he had, over the years, defied the odds and risen again, amassing formidable strength and power.

The orders from the cardinals, the highest authority in the Slane Theocracy, had been crystal clear. They tasked Angelos and his Scripture with the grim responsibility of purging the relentless Nazar soldiers who were on the verge of overwhelming the cathedral's defenses. It was a mission that, in many ways, appeared to be a suicide mission, and the captain couldn't help but be taken aback by the audacity of the cardinals' decision.

He pondered how the cardinals could issue such an order. Instead, they could have commanded the Black Scripture to serve as their shield, providing them with a means of escape to the safety of the labyrinthine underground tunnels, preserving the knowledge and power of the Slane Theocracy for a future day. Yet, it seemed that they had other plans, ones that would test the mettle of Angelos and his comrades in the face of overwhelming odds.

As the chaos and carnage unfolded around him, Angelos Arianiti couldn't help but think, "This is madness." The sheer scale of the battle and the odds they faced were staggering, even for the renowned captain of the Black Scripture.

One of his trusted comrades, Quintia, voiced a plea for a strategic retreat. "Captain, this is not looking good. We have to retreat. Let the army handle the enemy." Quintia had unleashed his formidable beasts onto the battlefield, hoping to turn the tide in their favor by striking down as many Nazaras as possible. However, it had become painfully clear that there was someone among the enemy's ranks with the power to eliminate even these formidable creatures.

In the face of overwhelming adversity, Angelos Arianiti's response was one of unwavering determination. He firmly declared, "We must hold them here, Quintia! This is why we were trained for, to protect humanity!" His words were marked by a resolute sense of duty, underscoring the purpose for which the Black Scripture had been forged.

The situation was dire, and the odds of survival were dismally low, but the captain understood that orders were orders. With courage in their hearts, the members of the Black Scripture prepared to stand their ground, fully aware of the near-impossible task that lay before them. Their commitment to protecting humanity, even in the face of such insurmountable odds, defined the essence of their sacred duty.

As the members of the Black Scripture bravely advanced toward the frontlines, the air around them was filled with a relentless barrage of deadly arrows. Their path was treacherous, and they approached a weakened wall that seemed on the brink of collapse. The wall couldn't withstand the assault, and a deafening explosion sent many soldiers hurtling through the air, forcing the Black Scripture to halt their advance.

"Quick, close the path!" ordered Kolthrus, but their efforts were in vain. The Nazars had already breached the wall, pouring in like an unstoppable tide, leaving death in their wake. However, it was a strange sight—none of the invaders seemed inclined to harm the members of the Black Scripture. It was as though they had received orders to spare them, at least for the moment.

Angelos, still ready to fight, turned his attention to the wall from which two unexpected figures emerged, shocking the group.

"Well, well, well, we meet again, old friends!" spoke the half-elf warrior, her tone filled with a hint of amusement.

"My, what a beautiful day for a reunion, hahaha," chimed in Clementine, her voice laced with mockery.

Angelos couldn't hide his anger. "You dare show yourselves here, you damn traitors! This is how you repay your nation, Zesshi?"

Zesshi, in contrast, displayed a cold indifference. "I don't care." Her words were a stark reminder of the depths to which their former allies had fallen.

While Zesshi and Clementine engaged the Black Scripture, Neia took on a crucial mission of her own—to infiltrate the sacred Cathedral of Light with her Nazar allies and capture the cardinals who resided within. Their objective was clear, and the fate of their mission hung in the balance.

As they made their way deeper into the cathedral, they encountered a small but determined group of guards who had been dispatched to block their path. One of the guards, his voice filled with unwavering conviction, shouted, "Protect the house of God!"

The guard raised his golden spear, intending to strike down Neia and her companions. However, Neia was quicker to react. With remarkable precision, she notched an arrow, aimed, and fired, the projectile finding its mark as it pierced the guard's head. The swift and deadly shot felled the guard, leaving the remaining Nazar soldiers to contend with the other defenders as they pressed forward toward their ultimate objective—the capture of the cardinals.

As Neia and her Nazar companions entered a vast chamber within the cathedral, they were met with a chilling sight—a multitude of citizens, deep in prayer, filling the expansive room. Their entrance caused a wave of terror to wash over the worshippers.

"No, they are here!"

"Have mercy!"

"Gods, save us!"

The panicked pleas of the citizens filled the air as they recoiled in fear from the unexpected intrusion. Neia, walking resolutely through the frightened congregation, issued a stern command to her Nazar allies, instructing them not to harm the innocent bystanders.

Neia's purpose was clear as she reached the priest who appeared to be conducting a mass. With a tone of urgency, she demanded, "Where are the cardinals?"

The priest, appalled by the audacity of her question, retorted, "How dare you turn your sword on your own kind?!"

However, Neia wasted no time and, in the blink of an eye, swiftly ended the priest's life. The brutal, cold-blooded death sent shockwaves through the assembled citizens, who watched in horror as the priest fell. Panic spread like wildfire as they feared they might be her next victims.

Neia turned her gaze to a young boy who had served as the assistant to the now-slain priest. Her question was the same, her determination unwavering. "Where are the cardinals?"

High above, on the third floor of the cathedral, the cardinals remained unaware of the impending threat, their lives hanging in the balance. The passage of time had granted them ample opportunity to flee through the tunnels to safety, yet they had chosen to stay.

"We had all the time in the world to leave for the tunnels, and you kept us here, Pontifex Maximus!" screamed Dominic, his frustration and anger apparent.

"This time, Dominic is right. We should have left long ago. Even sending the Black Scripture outside was foolish!" added Zinedine, voicing his concerns.

"Do not dare to say that now, Zinedine! We all agreed to give that order because we are all afraid to lose our own lives," screamed Berenice, her voice filled with tension. The cardinals found themselves divided by fear, trapped in their own reluctance to act.

Amid the growing tension and fear in the room, Raymond, the ex-member of the Black Scripture, took it upon himself to address the dire situation. His experience lent him a certain calmness in this time of crisis.

"Listen, we have messed up, and all of you can see that. Right now, we have to leave and take the holy artifacts outside the city," Raymond urged, emphasizing the need for immediate action.

Yvon, the Cardinal of Light, pointed out the grim reality. "Right, but we don't have guards anymore. They are still outside, fighting."

Maximilian, the Cardinal of Darkness, offered a solution. "We were members of the Scriptures once. We can still fight while escaping."

With a collective resolve to make their escape, Raymond declared, "Get ready, then!" The cardinals knew that they had no time to lose.

The cardinals were prepared to make their escape, but suddenly, they heard noises approaching from outside the room. The sounds were growing closer and closer, but the cardinals mistakenly believed that it was the guards coming to save them. The truth, however, was something far more ominous.

The room quaked with a deafening "BAM" as a relentless assault on the door intensified. Unseen assailants outside were using heavy weapons in their determined effort to breach the room.

Panic seized the cardinals as the situation grew increasingly dire. Dominic's voice quivered with fear as he screamed, "Oh no, what do we do?!"

Their peril took a terrifying turn as a demihuman from outside employed a martial art technique, shattering the door to pieces. The room was quickly invaded by the Nazars. Raymond, one of the cardinals, stood before them, clutching a spear, while the other cardinals cowered behind him.

"Stay back, you beasts!" Cardinal Raymond shouted, his voice a blend of terror and anger.

An arrow came hurtling from outside the room, striking Raymond's arm with a sickening thud. He cried out in agony, dropping his spear in the process. Berenice's scream of despair echoed in the room.

Neia entered the room accompanied by more Nazars, her presence commanding the attention of the cardinals. They beheld a young girl in armor, armed with a bow. It was she who had fired the shot that wounded their comrade. Yet what bewildered them even more was the realization that she, too, was human, just like themselves.

"The old, crooked cardinals of the Slane Theocracy... Look how pathetic they are," Neia taunted with a smirk, her words met with a chorus of mocking laughter from the Nazars.

Dominic, consumed by hatred, shot back, "What I find pathetic is a little girl fighting for an undead!"

With a sinister chuckle, Neia declared, "Haha, it's sad that from this day forward, there won't be any more foolish humans like you to kill. Take them outside!"

The Nazars wasted no time, swiftly overpowering the cardinals and handling them like lifeless sacks. Feeble resistance from some of the cardinals proved futile against the overwhelming strength of their captors.

Outside the cathedral, the once-mighty army of the Slane Theocracy lay in ruins, a sea of fallen soldiers and a landscape of destruction. Only one figure remained standing amid this battlefield of despair: Angelos Arianiti, the captain of the Black Scripture.

Zesshi and Clementine, now turned ruthless traitors, had savagely murdered their former comrades in a slow and brutal fashion, leaving behind a scene of horror and betrayal. Angelos, gravely wounded and barely able to maintain his stance, was the pitiful survivor.

"Hahahaha, do you remember when I was at your mercy?! Look at yourself now, hahaha!" Clementine's laughter dripped with sadistic glee as she taunted the battered captain.

Neia, the young girl who had orchestrated the fall of the Slane Theocracy's leadership, emerged from the cathedral alongside the treacherous criminals responsible for the war. The cardinal of the Slane Theocracy watched in sheer horror as they beheld the blood-soaked figure of their once-respected Black Scripture captain.

Without a shred of mercy, Zesshi swung her weapon and severed Angelos's head from his body. His lifeless form crumpled to the ground, and with it, the legacy of the Black Scripture met its grim end.

"Hey, I wanted to kill him.~" protested Clementine with a twisted sense of disappointment.

"He's just boring now," said Zesshi casually as she approached the cardinals, as if the brutality she had just displayed was merely a mundane task.

"Hey, you guys," Zesshi waved at the horrified and despairing cardinals, who were once their allies and protectors.

"Zesshi! How did you betray us like this? Look at what you have done to the country that you were supposed to protect!" screamed Maximilian, his voice filled with anger and despair at the unforgivable actions of his former comrade.

"That was the best decision ever. I lost so much time protecting old fools pretending to be holy," Zesshi retorted, showing no remorse for her treacherous actions as she stood among the fallen guardians of the Slane Theocracy.

"We may be powerless now, but mark my words, Zesshi," Dominic barked, his voice laced with anger and resentment. "One day, the gods themselves will ensure you face justice for your heinous crimes, you half-blood abomination!" Zesshi stood unfazed, while the half-elves surrounding her simmered with intense anger in response to Dominic's defiant words.

"Hmm, Neia?" Zesshi's voice cut through the air.

"My queen?" Neia bowed her head in reverence.

"Execute them in your own way," Zesshi demanded with an air of regal authority.

"As you wish, your Majesty!"

Elves brought forward seven imposing crosses. The Nazars forcefully placed the cardinals on these cruel instruments of torture.

"What are you doing, you animals?! Unhand me now!" Dominic's voice trembled with a mixture of fear and defiance.

"Hold his hand!" a resolute elf, clutching a hammer and long nails, stepped forth.

The cardinals glimpsed the gruesome fate that awaited them, and their horror grew.

"No! No! No! This is horrendous and unacceptable! You can't subject us to this!" they cried out desperately.

"You created us! Isn't that horrendous!" a half-elf retorted coldly as they drove a nail through the center of Dominic's hand.

"AAAAAAA STOP IT!" Dominic's screams reverberated through the cathedral as nails pierced through his hands and legs, pinning him to the cross.

Pontifex Maximus, overwhelmed by the horror of the moment, suffered a heart attack and died immediately, though it did not halt the barbaric proceedings. His lifeless body remained crucified, serving as a gruesome testament to the cruelty of the Nazar army.

The cathedral resounded with the agonized cries and wails of the cardinals, their suffering beyond imagination as they hung high upon the crosses, a macabre spectacle for all to witness.

"These are the faces of losers! This fate awaits the enemies of the Sorcerer Kingdom of Nazarick!" Zesshi proclaimed with an air of triumph and vengeance.

"Let them rot here! Nazars, let's conclude this battle!" Neia's voice resonated with command.

The Nazars dispersed, taking up their designated positions. Meanwhile, Zesshi and Clementine remained by the crucified cardinals.

Clementine, with a sadistic grin, couldn't resist commenting, "So, what do you think, Zesshi? The demise of these imbeciles is truly splendid!"

Zesshi's eyes gleamed with a profound, long-held resentment as she responded, "Yeah… Ahh, I've had to endure so many years looking at those wretched faces and protecting them. I despise them with every fiber of my being!" The intensity of her hatred was unmistakable.

Eryuentiu

The throne room of the flying castle was immaculate, meticulously cleaned by the efficient undead and diligent maids of Nazarick. Within this room, a congregation of formidable beings had assembled. These included powerful undead, demons, angels, and dragons, all kneeling before the magnificent Supreme Overlord Ainz Ooal Gown.

Standing prominently in the midst of this assembly were a select few: the Deep Darkness Dragon Lord Zigur, the Catastrophe Dragon Lord Broz, the Vampiric Dragon Lord Mortis, Jeanne d'Arc, and her sister Alter.

Albedo and Artoria, two of Nazarick's high-ranking denizens, had called this assembly for a specific, and somewhat concerning, purpose. The atmosphere in the room was tense, and the servants who had been created by the other Supreme Beings stood at Ainz's side, their expressions a blend of anger and curiosity as they focused on the group before them.

"Lord Ainz, these are the incompetent individuals who failed in their mission to eliminate the Platinum Dragon Lord," Albedo spoke with a mixture of disappointment and anger.

Artoria, standing beside her, couldn't contain her frustration and directed her fury at the group. "You've put Lord Ainz in a perilous situation just to rescue you! How dare you!"

Demiurge, his eyes ablaze with his characteristic intensity, added his scathing remarks. "For such sacrilege, not even ten thousand deaths would be a sufficient punishment!"

An oppressive silence settled over the throne room, a palpable weight in the air, as the arch servants seethed with anger and disappointment.

Artoria's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "What do you have to say for yourselves?" she demanded, her tone heavy with both disappointment and fury.

"It is not our fault!" Zigur protested vehemently. "The Platinum Dragon Lord was prepared to meet his end at the hands of a dragon lord, but she had to interfere, and it provoked Tsaindorcus to make one last stand! None of this would have occurred if she had allowed us to complete our mission!"

All the formidable creatures surrounding them nodded in solemn agreement with the Deep Darkness Dragon Lord.

"Mission?! When did you receive that mission?! The Platinum Dragon Lord had to meet his demise by my spear!" Jeanne's voice was laced with anger.

"You've disrupted everything!" Zigur shouted in frustration.

"That was my vengeance! Lord Ainz had promised me the head of the Dragon Lord!" Jeanne's frustration was evident.

"SILENCE!" Albedo's voice thundered through the room as she forcefully struck the floor with her world item. "You insolent fools dare to raise your voices in the presence of Lord Ainz. Enough. All of you shall be sent to the frozen prison and punished for your incompetence."

Suddenly, Wrath boldly stepped forward. "This is akin to a conviction without trial, and it reeks of injustice. Zigur is innocent! All of this chaos was the fault of that stubborn woman blinded by vengeance!"

The surrounding monsters chimed in, their voices rising in agreement with their comrade. Zigur nodded with gratitude towards Wrath.

"Who granted you the right to meddle, demon?!" Artoria's voice was thick with anger.

"The Deep Darkness Dragon Lord has served Lord Ainz with unwavering dedication for over a decade! You have only just arrived here, bearing the privilege to unjustly dictate punishments. We will not stand for this!" Wrath protested, and the other monsters were emboldened by his courageous stance, joining in the protest.

"YOU DARE…" Artoria was on the verge of impaling the demon's head with her lance, but Cocytus brought his halberd down on the floor with a thunderous impact. "You. Stand. Before. A. Supreme. Being. Contain. Yourselves," he demanded, his voice as chilling as his icy realm.

"Enough…" The Supreme Overlord spoke for the first time, and a heavy silence fell upon the throne room. Everyone, even the arch servants, bowed their heads deeply as a chill ran down their spines.

The Supreme Overlord continued, his voice carrying the weight of his divine authority. "So, this is how the servants of Nazarick decide to divide themselves into factions. What would happen next, I wonder…" He walked up to Demiurge, his crimson gaze locked onto the demon. "Would that be a civil war, Demiurge?"

"It is as you say, my Lord!" replied Demiurge with a shaky voice.

"Really? NO!" The Overlord's anger rippled through the throne room, sending shockwaves of terror among the servants. Their squabbling had greatly displeased their lord, and the prospect of collective punishment loomed.

"We are not left-wing or right-wing political parties! We are Nazarick, and we approach every situation as one cohesive entity! Listen to these words with your hearts! Zigur valiantly stood his ground and blocked the enemy's final attack, nearly sacrificing himself to save his comrades. His actions serve as an example for all of us. It was my failure to provide a coordinated plan."

"My lord!" Zigur attempted to interject, but Ainz raised his hand to silence him.

"Listen! I don't want any of you to turn against one another. Mistakes are inevitable, but there is no need to punish a brother or sister. As I've stated before, we are one!" The Overlord's words carried the weight of unquestionable authority.

"While this was a significant blunder, it has awakened an even more formidable adversary," Ainz continued.

"My lord, please forgive my interruption, but why did you spare that creature? She caused you substantial trouble," Demiurge inquired.

"Trouble? No, Demiurge. I had complete control from the very beginning. I bested her to the point where she begged for mercy. She will no longer pose a threat to Nazarick, as we've established a non-aggression pact. Kastriont, instruct your armies not to interfere with the waters of the Sea City," Ainz ordered.

"Yes, my lord!" Kastriot promptly complied.

"Now that this matter has been settled, I require updates from the front. Albedo?"

"Yes, my Lord! I recently received a message that the Slane Theocracy has fallen entirely under Nazar's control, with the cardinals having been crucified. The southern regions of the continent are swiftly being conquered. The Sultanate of Aitazaerin, Drakadia, and Akheagratopia have acknowledged our absolute rule. The Sultanate of Kreatopia, the Vodarkar Kingdom, the Azaeria Empire, the Elvakath Kingdom, the Delron Dynasty, and the Xara Republic are soon to follow. The conquest is already in progress," Albedo reported.

"Good. And what of that elderly woman?" Ainz inquired.

"Ah, yes, we are tracking her, my lord," Albedo confirmed.

"Capture that criminal and execute her on the spot. She has lived long enough for a human," Ainz demanded.

"Yes, my lord!" Albedo bowed deeply.

"Good... Dismiss!"

The other denizens of Nazarick began to leave the castle, but Jeanne remained behind. She was bound by the command of another player and had no choice but to follow their orders.

"Who is the woman standing beside you, Jeanne d'Arc?" Ainz inquired.

"She is my sister, your Majesty. Her name is Alter," Jeanne explained.

"Hmm, I thought you were the last of the NPCs," Ainz mused.

"I was in a state of slumber for 500 years. When I woke up, I was so confused because I thought I had only slept for one night," Alter added.

"Another Fate Grand Order character," Ainz thought to himself.

"I see, we also have chambers for slumber in the Great Tomb of Nazarick," Ainz commented.

"What do you plan to do with us, your Majesty?" Jeanne asked, realizing that her role in Ainz's plans had come to an end.

"Since the time you joined us, I had considered making you the governor of Eryuentiu, as this is your homeland. Do you both fully accept me as your master, sisters?" Ainz inquired.

Jeanne and Alter bowed deeply in submission. "I am grateful for this appointment, my Lord. I will carry out your orders faithfully from this day until eternity," Jeanne declared with unwavering determination. Finally, her homeland was free, and it all belonged to her and her sister.

Ainz Ooal Gown stood upon his throne, an indomitable presence, as the world bowed at his feet. There was no one left in this world who could hope to challenge his might. His thirst for conquest was insatiable and his dominion knew no bounds. The Supreme Overlord reigned supreme, his power echoing throughout the land.