The Undead King

by Kugane Maruyama

  From a glass-half-full perspective, they were a veteran order of knights. Otherwise they were just a ragtag bunch of mercenaries.

  Eventually the party rode right into the square, about twenty men. While keeping an eye on the death knight, they formed a magnificent row before Ainz and the village headman. One of them, still on his horse, came forward. He appeared to be their leader and was more robust than the others. He practically overlooked the headman, stopped his eyes on the death knight, and then looked at Albedo. His eyes stayed there for a long time, as if he were caught. But when he saw that she was just standing at attention without moving a muscle, he turned his sharp, perceptive gaze on Ainz.

  This man had the air of one who made violence his occupation, but Ainz took his gaze and just stood there. One look wasn’t enough to disturb him.

  Not that he had always been strong against such eyes. It was probably just thanks to his undead body. Or maybe it was due to the confidence he’d gained from being able to use his Yggdrasil powers.

  Satisfied with his observations, the man addressed them in a dignified manner. “I am captain of the Royal Select of the Kingdom of Re-Estize, Gazef Stronoff. We’ve come on the king’s orders to subdue the imperial knights terrorizing this region.” His deep voice carried clearly throughout the square despite being quiet, and Ainz could hear a stir from inside the village headman’s house behind them.

  “Captain of the Royal Select…,” murmured the headman.

  Ainz was slightly miffed that there hadn’t been anything about this man in the info he’d received. “Who is he?”

  “According to the merchants, he was once champion of the royal tournament and is now the leader of a group of elite soldiers who serve the king directly.”

  “And this is really him?”

  “…I don’t know. I’ve only ever heard the rumors.”

  If Ainz squinted, it turned out they did all have the same crest on their chests. And it did resemble the kingdom’s crest the headman had described earlier. But he was still a little too uninformed to believe the story right away.

  “You must be the village headman,” said Gazef, turning to the headman. “So then, if you would be so kind as to tell me who exactly that is next to you?”

  The headman’s mouth was half open, but Ainz stopped him and gave a brief self-introduction. “That’s not necessary. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain. I am Ainz Ooal Gown, a caster who saw this village being attacked by knights and came to save it.”

  In response, Gazef jumped off his horse and landed with a clatter of armor. He solemnly bowed his head. “There are no words to express my thanks that you have saved this village.”

  A ripple went through the atmosphere.

  It must have been a shock in this world, where social standing was so black and white, to see the most likely privileged man who held the position of captain of the Royal Select making a show of respect to Ainz, whose status was unknown. Human rights weren’t even properly established in this country—or depending on the case, anywhere. They had probably been buying and selling humans as slaves up until a few years ago.

  Despite the fact that they weren’t even equals, Gazef had gotten off his horse and bowed to Ainz. That spoke volumes about his character. Ainz decided that the man must actually be who he said he was.

  “No, I was doing it for the rewards, anyway. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Oh! A reward? Then, you’re an adventurer?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Hmm, I see. You seem quite strong… I’m sorry to say I haven’t heard your name before.”

  “I’m on a journey, just passing through, so my name may not have spread so much.”

  “On a journey, hm? I feel bad taking an able adventurer’s time, but I’d like to hear the details about the nasty bunch who attacked this village.”

  “Of course. I’d be happy to tell you, Captain. I robbed most of them of their lives. I’d hazard to say they won’t be making any trouble around here for a while. Did you need to hear more about that?”

  “Robbed them of their lives… You killed them yourself, Sir Gown?” From the way Gazef addressed him, he realized this world’s names were Western-style, not Japanese—not surname, name, but name, surname. Now he knew why the headman had looked at him a little funny when he’d asked him to call him Ainz. Certainly if someone Ainz wasn’t terribly familiar with asked to be called by their first name, he would have made that face.

  He concealed his realization of this faux pas with the mask known as adulthood and continued. “You…could say that or maybe not.”

  Inferring the delicate nuance, Gazef’s eyes flicked to the death knight. He must have sensed the faint smell of blood coming off of him.

  “Right now there are two things I want to ask you. One: What is that?”

  “A minion I created.”

  He hmmed his admiration and looked Ainz up and down. “And what’s that mask about?”

  “I have my reasons as a caster for wearing this mask.”

  “Could I get you to take it off for me?”

  “I’m afraid not. It would be quite troublesome if he”—Ainz indicated the death knight—“were to go on a rampage.”

  The village headman knew what the death knight was capable of, and the alarm was plain on his face. Voices could also be heard from inside the house. Perhaps sensing the sudden atmosphere change, Gazef nodded gravely. “I see. I suppose you’d better keep it on, then.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Well, then—”

  “One moment. I beg your pardon, but this village has just been attacked by imperial knights. I think seeing all of you with your weapons will cause them to flash back to that terror. It would probably help everyone relax if you would lay down your weapons at the edge of the square. What do you think?”

  “You’re right, but these swords were bestowed upon us by our king. We can’t disarm without his permission.”

  “Lord Ainz, we’re fine.”

  “Are you sure, Mr. Headman? Captain, I hope you’ll be able to forgive me for my rudeness.”

  “No problem, Sir Gown. I think your idea was quite correct. If this sword were not a gift from our king, I would have gladly set it aside. Now, then, shall we sit down somewhere and have a more detailed discussion? Also, if you don’t mind, we’d like to rest here for the night…”

  “Understood. We’ll discuss that as well, so please come to my house—” The headman was mid-reply when it happened. A lone cavalryman rode into the square. His rough breathing foreshadowed the seriousness of the news he’d brought.

  He loudly announced an emergency. “Captain! Several figures spotted in the area! They’re surrounding the village and approaching!”

  3

  “Your attention, please.”

  A quiet, level voice sounded so that all present could hear.

  “Our prey has entered the cage.”

  It was a man’s voice. There was nothing particular about it. His face, too, was an average one that would get lost in a crowd—if it weren’t for his utterly emotionless, almost artificial-seeming black eyes and a scar that ran down his cheek.

  “Let us put our faith in the gods.”

  All those present observed a moment of silence, a condensed prayer to their gods.

  Even on a mission in a different country, they took time to pray—not out of confidence, but piety. These agents of the Slane Theocracy in the service of their gods had stronger faith than average citizens. That was how they could perform cold-blooded acts without thinking twice and feel no guilt.

  After the prayer, all of their eyes were glazed over, like glass marbles.

  “Begin.”

  One word.

  That was all it took for everyone to move in exquisite coordination to surround the village. One could sense it was the result of ceaseless training.

  This was the unit that carried out mostly illegal activities. They existed even inside the Slane Theocracy itself on
ly as rumors that followed them like shadows—one of the six scriptures that reported directly to the high priest, the Sunlit Scripture, whose most important duty was the extermination of subhuman villages.

  Although the Sunlit Scripture saw the most combat of any of the six special-ops units, they had very few members—not even one hundred, including reserves. Their small size implied how hard it was to be accepted.

  First, they each had to be able to use tier-three (the highest level a normal caster could attain) faith magic. Superior mental and physical abilities, as well as a true faith, were also required.

  In other words, they were the best of the best.

  Watching his elite subordinates scatter, the man breathed out slowly. Deployment was done; it would be hard to monitor their movements now. However, he had no concerns regarding the construction of their cage. Captain of the Sunlit Scripture, Nigun Grid Lewin had the peace of mind of one who knew his mission’s success was nearly at hand.

  The Sunlit Scripture were not experts at covert or outdoor operations. They’d missed their chance four times. After each failure, they pursued Gazef and his men from the kingdom, careful to not be found. If they missed their chance again now, their days of chasing Gazef would continue.

  “Should we…get help from another unit next time? I’d like to let someone else handle this.”

  Someone was present to respond to Nigun’s grumbling. “We really should. Our specialty is extermination!” He was a subordinate who had stayed behind, in part to guard Nigun. “So it’s weird that we’d get assigned this mission. It’s important, so why didn’t they get the Flurry Scripture in on it, too?”

  “Exactly. It’s unclear why they assigned us alone, but it’s been a good learning experience for us. Incorporating covert operations on enemy soil into our training isn’t such a bad thing. I mean, it’s possible that’s why they had us do it.” Even as he said that, however, Nigun knew the probability of another mission like this coming their way was low.

  Their mission was to remove Gazef Stronoff, a royal warrior so strong that there was no one comparable in any nearby countries. This was more of a job for the Black Scripture, the unit where all members had hero-level power. Normally it would have been given to them, but this time that wasn’t possible.

  The reason for that was top secret, so Nigun couldn’t tell the lower-ranking man, but of course he knew what it was. They were too busy trying to resurrect the Catastrophe Dragonlord—the Black Scripture was guarding the sacred treasure, Ruinous Beauty, and the Flurry Scripture’s top priority was chasing down the traitor who had stolen one of the shrine princesses’ sacred treasures.

  Nigun unconsciously stroked the scar on his cheek. He thought of the one time he’d awkwardly fled from a fight, and the face of the woman who had given him the scar with her black magic sword came to mind…

  Magic could have completely healed him, but he had left the scar there on purpose, so he wouldn’t forget his defeat.

  “Blue Rose…”

  That woman was from the kingdom, like Gazef. But what Nigun really couldn’t forgive her for was being a priest. Not only did she believe in a different god, but she tried to prevent Nigun and his men from attacking a subhuman village—and she thought she was right! She was a fool who couldn’t see the big picture.

  “Humans are weak, so we must protect ourselves in all manner of ways. She couldn’t understand that, the fool.”

  The subordinate man, perhaps sharp enough to catch the anger in his captain’s glassy eyes, hastily interrupted. “Th-that kingdom, the whole bunch of them are fools.”

  Nigun didn’t answer, but he agreed.

  Gazef was strong. That’s why they had moved to weaken him by stripping him of his protection.

  The kingdom was split into two factions, the king’s side and the nobles, who were locked in a continuous power struggle. Gazef was an impossible-to-ignore member of the king’s faction, so if the nobles thought they could thwart him, they were liable to act without thinking things through—even if their thought process was being manipulated by an agent from another country.

  One of the reasons the nobles hated him was that he had worked his way up out of his commoner background by his prowess with the sword alone.

  And the result of all that animosity?

  The kingdom was about to lose their trump card.

  To Nigun, it was utterly idiotic.

  The Slane Theocracy also had factions—six of them, but they mostly worked together. One simple reason they could do that was the fact that they respected one another’s gods. Another was that they knew they had to stick together in this dangerous world full of nonhuman races and monsters.

  “…That’s why we have to get them to walk the same path as us, the path based on the correct teachings. Humans are not meant to fight, but to walk together.”

  And the sacrifice to this ideal would be Gazef.

  “Do you think we can get him?”

  Nigun took his subordinate’s anxiety seriously.

  Their prey this time was Gazef Stronoff, the strongest warrior in these parts and captain of the Royal Select. This was harder than wiping out a huge goblin village. So Nigun answered in a quiet voice to dispel his worries. “It shouldn’t be a problem. You know those treasures the kingdom permits him to carry? He doesn’t have them equipped this time. Without those, it should be a simple matter to kill him… I’d even say that if we miss this chance, it will, on the contrary, be impossible.”

  Captain Gazef Stronoff’s name was known far and wide for his skills, but there was another reason, as well—the kingdom’s five treasures. Currently only four were known, but Gazef was allowed to equip them all: the Gauntlets of Vitality that made it so the wearer never got fatigued; the Amulet of Immortality that constantly healed the wearer; Guardian Armor that was said to be able to save the wearer from a fatal critical hit, made from the hardest metal in existence, adamantite; and Razor Edge, a magic sword that was enchanted in the pursuit of sharpness and cut armor like butter.

  Even Nigun couldn’t win against Gazef Stronoff if his attack and defense were boosted to extraordinary levels via that lineup of gear. Surely there was no human who could. But if he wasn’t equipped with the treasures, they had a decent enough chance.

  “Plus, we have an ace up our sleeve. There’s no way we’ll lose this fight.” Nigun patted his breast pocket.

  In this world there were three types of nonstandard magic items. Relics of the Eight Kings of Avarice who conquered the continent in the blink of an eye more than five hundred years ago were one type. Before the Eight Kings of Avarice ruled, the dragons did. The dragons’ hidden treasures, believed to have been created by the most powerful dragonlords’ magic, were the second type. Finally, six centuries earlier, the six gods that made up the foundation of the Slane Theocracy descended. The supreme treasures they left behind were the third and final type.

  And in Nigun’s breast pocket was a supreme treasure—even the Slane Theocracy only had a few of them. It meant guaranteed victory.

  He glanced at the steel band wrapped around his wrist. The numbers there indicated the passing of time.

  “Okay, let’s begin the operation.”

  Nigun and his subordinate cast their magic—their elite angel-summoning magic.

  “I see. Yes, indeed…” Gazef confirmed the reported figures from the shadow of a house. He could see three. They were slowly walking toward the village, maintaining a fixed distance among one another. They were unarmed and weren’t wearing heavy armor, but that didn’t mean they would go down easily. Many casters eschewed heavy armor, preferring lighter materials. In other words, they were probably casters.

  What made that completely clear were the glowing, winged figures lined up next to them—angels.

  Angels were monsters summoned from another world that many people—especially people from the Slane Theocracy—believed served the gods. It was unclear whether that was true or false, and the priests of the kingdom assert
ed that they were simply a type of summoned monster.

  That religious conflict was one reason the countries disliked each other, but Gazef didn’t care who the monsters served. To Gazef, all that mattered was how strong they were.

  As far as he knew, compared to other monsters summoned with the same level of magic, angels and demons (which were said to be about equal themselves) were a tad stronger. In addition to having many special abilities, they could use some magic, so Gazef categorized them among the more troublesome enemies. Even so, although it depended on the type of angel, they weren’t unbeatable.

  These ones wore gleaming breastplates and carried long swords of crimson flame. He’d never seen this type before, so he couldn’t guess how strong they were.

  Ainz had come with him to take a look and asked, “Who the heck are these guys and what are they after? This village doesn’t really seem that valuable…”

  “So you don’t know them…? If they’re not after you, Sir Gown, then there’s only one answer.”

  Their eyes met.

  “You’ve got some enemies, Captain.”

  “I suppose there’s no helping it because of my position, but this is…a rather large problem. If they have this many casters summoning angels, they must be from the Slane Theocracy… And if they’re engaged in this kind of mission, it must be one of the rumored six scriptures, their special-ops units. Numbers, strength—they have the advantage.” Gazef shrugged his shoulders, all but openly grumbling about what a pain it was. His attitude was relaxed, but inside he was quite anxious. And angry.

  “They did a great job using the nobles to take away my gear. If that snake had been sniffing around the court, things would probably have gone even worse, so I suppose we should count ourselves lucky that this was all that happened. Still, I never thought the Slane Theocracy would be after me…”

  He snorted.

  But they were really outnumbered. They weren’t ready. They had no countermeasures to use. They were fresh out of everything. But there was one possibility…