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 Forty-One 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?
The Invaders of the Great Tomb Page 18
