A young girl sprinted through the outskirts of her village, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination. She held her little sister's hand tightly, the younger girl's face streaked with tears, smeared with remnants of snot and pure terror.
Enri Emmot had started her day like any other. Their village, home to only 120 residents, was small enough that everyone knew each other. The morning began with a simple breakfast—a bowl of warm wheat porridge accompanied by seasoned vegetables. On the best days, they were fortunate enough to enjoy some dried fruits.
After breakfast, she and her parents tended to their fields. When the bell rang in the village square, they gathered for lunch, which was equally unpretentious: black bread, several days old, paired with a humble soup and a sprinkle of dried meat jerky. After a brief rest, they returned to their work until sunset, when they would come home for dinner. By eight o'clock, they would settle down, surrendering to sleep beneath the blanket of night.
Yet today, which had begun with the promise of another routine day, transformed into a waking nightmare. After fetching water from the well—a task designated to women in the village—Enri was filling her bucket when a scream pierced the air. It was a cry thick with fear, echoing the imminence of death.
The moment Enri realized the chilling sound was coming from her own home, an icy panic gripped her heart. Without a moment's hesitation, she abandoned her buckets, water sloshing out onto the ground as she raced toward her house.
As she ran, the world blurred around her. The sounds of neighing horses and frantic shouts reverberated through the air, mingling with the desperate cries of her fellow villagers. In a fleeting moment, she caught sight of a villager being mercilessly cut down by a knight, but she couldn't afford to stop. Her heart ached with worry for her parents and sister—she had to reach them.
Upon bursting through the door, relief flooded her veins as she found her parents huddled together, filled with a paralyzing mixture of fear and worry. Her father enveloped her in a fierce embrace, but their reunion was abruptly shattered. Just as they prepared to flee, a knight appeared, adorned with the menacing insignia of the neighboring Baharuth Empire.
Enri felt a cold shiver as the knight's gaze pierced through his helmet's slits, his presence exuding an aura of terrifying oppression. As the knight stepped forward, her father instinctively moved to shield his daughters, putting himself between them and the encroaching danger.
"Run!" he shouted, his voice strained with urgency.
With nothing but dread echoing in her mind, Enri made her choice: she grasped her sister Nemu's hand and fled into the chaos, running without a backward glance, blinded by terror. She ran as if the wind itself were propelling her forward, her mind was a whirlpool of instinct and fear, amplified further by her sister's cries.
The village stretched behind them in chaos—flames licking at homes, the dead littering the ground, and the chilling shouts of knights resonating in the air. All Enri could think of was getting them to safety. Tears blurred her vision, but she refused to slow down.
Suddenly, she sensed a dark figure closing in behind them. The knight was relentless in his pursuit, and fear clawed at her heart. "Please… lose interest…" she whispered in a silent prayer, but her hopes went unanswered. The knight drew ever closer, with an unyielding resolve.
Alone, she might have been able to escape, but with her sister—a crying child who had just witnessed their world shatter—it became an hard task. The thought of abandoning her sister fleetingly crossed her mind. Perhaps they could split up and increase the chances of one surviving. But she shook her head vehemently. No! She couldn't abandon Nemu. Their parents had sacrificed themselves for their sake; she wouldn't dishonor that sacrifice.
Enri gritted her teeth, resolve swelling within her. She would never leave Nemu behind.
But then, to her horror, Nemu stumbled, fatigue dragging her down. Enri hesitated, glancing back just as the knight closed in, his bloodied sword was raised, ready to strike.
"It's pointless to struggle," he mocked, voice dripping with contempt.
The anger inside Enri ignited like a flame, forcing her heart to race faster. They were a peaceful village; they had never harmed anyone. Why were they suffering this fate? Her fury silenced her fear as she glared defiantly at the knight standing before them.
"Don't look down on us!" she cried out, an impulsive decision that bubbled forth in a moment of desperation. With unexpected ferocity, she charged at the knight and headbutted him, pain radiating through her skull but she ignored it as she collided with his armored chest.
The knight staggered back, his sword swinging wildly as he regained his balance. "Damn you, bitch!" he roared, fury etched across his face.
Enri refused to give in. Even as the knight towered above her, sword raised to strike, she caught a glimpse of her sister behind her. Nemu's frightened eyes fueled her determination.
As the sword descended, Enri acted without thinking, positioning herself to absorb the blow meant for Nemu.
The sword descended, slicing through the air, and pain erupted as it tore into her flesh. The world spun, colors blurring as she felt herself weaken, collapsing into the depths of agony while holding her sister close.
Gritting her teeth, Enri choked down a cry but refused to surrender and against the excruciating pain, she held Nemu close, resolve hardening within her. There was no way to survive this; all she could do was buy her sister a precious moment longer.
Closing her eyes against the overwhelming tide of darkness, Enri whispered silent apologies to her parents, longing for their forgiveness as death crept closer. Just as despair threatened to claim her entirely, an explosive boom erupted, tearing through the air like thunder.
A blinding flash of golden lightning struck between her and the knight, illuminating the tree darkened surroundings with radiant brilliance. Enri's breath caught in her throat as the warmth washed over her, enveloping her in a sensation unlike anything she had ever experienced.
When the blinding glow finally subsided, she blinked in disbelief.
Both Enri and Nemu's eyes widened to their limits, their pupils dilating at the overwhelming presence of the being before them. A being of impossible beauty stood there, radiating an aura that transcended mortal comprehension.
"What a cliché story, isn't it?"
A voice—soft, sweet, and melodious—drifted toward them. It belonged to the divinity before them… or rather, the man who took its form. His silver hair danced wildly in the wind, catching the remnants of the fading light like strands of liquid moonlight.
Enri's breath caught in her throat as his crimson eyes—deep as pools of blood—locked onto hers. A smirk played on his lips, and for a single, heart-stopping moment, time itself seemed to freeze.
The knight stumbled back, instinctively retreating as the divine figure moved his hand forward. His crimson nail extended slightly, glinting in the light as he brought it down in a slow, deliberate motion.
Before Enri could blink, a vivid red line appeared, stretching from the knight's forehead down to the center of his being. In a horrific instant, the two halves of the knight fell apart, blood, intestines, and other gruesome organs splattering across the ground.
For a moment, Enri felt the urge to vomit as her gaze fixed on the chaotic scene before her. But that nausea quickly dissipated when she realized that this was the same man who had aimed to kill her—not long ago, he was a menace, and now he lay in pieces.
"Are you okay?" The gentle voice of the divinity snapped Enri back to reality. For the first time since his descent, she was struck by his presence. She took in the sight of him—hair like molten gold threaded with silver, eyes the mesmerizing crimson of a moonlit night. His beauty was otherworldly, a glimpse of perfection that seemed almost unreal.
Enri felt her gaze linger on him, captivated. How could someone so exquisite even exist? Was it truly possible?
Then, noticing his concerned expression, she realized he was asking about her well-being.
"Yes, I'm fi—" But as she spoke, the pressure that had held her together suddenly shattered, and she collapsed to the ground, letting go of Nemu's hand. Nemu turned wide-eyed, anxiety flooding her features. "Nii-chan, you're hurt?!" The little girl cried, her tears spilling anew as she saw the blood trickling down her sister's back.
At that moment, the pain surged back into Enri's consciousness as the adrenaline wore off. "Agh!" she gasped.
"Don't move." The divinity commanded gently, his majestic crimson, gold, and white robe trailing behind him like a weightless cloud. Despite the chaos around them, not a speck of dirt marred his attire.
He extended his hand toward Enri's wound, assessing her injury with a calm intensity.
"[Heal]," he uttered softly, and a radiant magic circle sprang into existence in his palm. Fear gripped Enri as she instinctively hugged Nemu again, bracing for something terrible. But instead, a wave of warmth enveloped her, a soothing sensation washing over her back as the pain vanished almost instantly.
Nemu peeked over her sister's shoulder, her eyes widening with excitement. "Nee-chan is healed!" she shouted, her voice ringing out with joy as she looked back at the man who had saved them.
Despite appearing only slightly older than Enri, he seemed to emit an aura that was both comforting and powerful. His beautiful features made both Enri and Nemu blush under his gaze.
"There, all healed," he said, flashing a smile that radiated warmth, as if countless flowers blossomed in the air around him, making him even more enchanting. His voice drew Enri out of her stupor as anxiety fueled her desperation.
"Please, save my parents! And the villagers! I'll do anything, please!" Enri cried, her voice trembling with desperation as her tears streamed down her face. With every ounce of her renewed strength, she poured her heart into her plea.
At first, she had believed him to be a god, but as he casted his magic to mend her wound so effortlessly, realization washed over her. He was not a deity; he was a magic caster, and a powerful one at that. Her friend from the city had once explained to her that magic casters never acted without a cost.
"Of course... I'm already working on it."
His response was casual, almost dismissive—as if the impending crisis meant nothing to him. Then, his crimson gaze shifted to Enri, who immediately flushed and pulled Nemu closer.
Beautiful yet terrifying...
For all his divine appearance, he remained an unknown entity—a magic caster of unknown origins.
"Your clothes are practically falling apart," he said with a mixture of concern and amusement, prompting Enri's eyes to widen in shock. A rush of embarrassment flooded her cheeks as she instinctively tried to cover herself, her hands trembling in a futile attempt to shield her modesty.
With a gentle smile, he extended his hand. "[Create Greater Item]" Above his palm, a radiant white magic circle flickered into existence, shimmering with golden light. From this circle, a breathtaking frilly dress began to materialize—the delicate fabric cascaded like silk, it was adorned with intricate laces that seemed to dance in the air. Surprisingly, it also appeared to be tailored perfectly for her.
"Why don't you change your clothes first? You wouldn't want to be nearly naked, would you?" he teased, a lighthearted giggle escaping his lips as he held the garment closer to her.
"No, I can't possibly accept something so precious!" Enri exclaimed. She knew that whatever this dress was, it must be incredibly valuable, as it looked like something even nobles would vie for. A village girl like her couldn't possibly wear something so exquisite.
And she was right. The dress had been crafted specifically for her. It was a top-tier item, featuring self-repairing properties and imbued with the spells like [Heal] and [Protect], which could be activated once each day. If nobles ever discovered its existence, they would fight to death for it.
However, the beautiful young man simply pressed the dress into her hands with an earnest smile. "Just wear it… I won't ask for anything in return. You can keep it forever, okay?" The warmth of his expression caused both Enri and Nemu to blush deeply. After a moment of hesitation, Enri reluctantly accepted the dress, feeling its silky fabric slip through her fingers.
As she glanced nervously around, Enri sensed his gaze lingering on her. A flutter of doubt crept into her mind—was this all part of his plan?
"Ah, my bad," he said suddenly, turning away with a hint of embarrassment coloring his features. "Well, I'll help save your village while you change." With those words, he lifted off the ground, his feet leaving the earth as he began to ascend. In an instant, he vanished from sight, as if he had never been there at all.
Enri stood frozen, stunned by the encounter, her heart racing as she clutched the exquisite dress to her chest.
Still in a trance, Enri gazed at the dress and the spot where the young man had vanished. She touched her cheeks and pinched them, questioning whether this was all just a dream—a comforting illusion she had created to shield herself from the harsh reality. But the sharp sting was undeniable, grounding her in the moment.
"Nee-chan! That onii-chan will save Mother and Father, right?" Nemu tugged at her sleeve, her eyes glistening with the remnants of tears. The flame of hope flickered back to life within her.
Her sister's very real voice cut through Enri's reverie. With a soft, distracted hum, she replied, "Hmm…" Her mind remained hazy, still lingering on the warmth of his presence, the promise in his eyes slowly weaving hope into her heart.
***
Fifteen Minutes Earlier…
Lucian, Mei Mei, and Shiraori hovered high above the village, the wind carrying the metallic stench of blood and the agonized screams of its people. Below, the once-peaceful settlement had become a slaughterhouse—knights cutting down men, women, and children without hesitation, as if they were nothing more than livestock.
Lucian stared blankly at the carnage.
"I don't feel anything."
His voice was disturbingly calm. No anger, no sorrow—just detached observation, as if he were watching some grotesque film.
"This is weird…" he muttered, more to himself than the others.
He had always considered himself empathetic—perhaps second only to Mizuki, whose soft spot for children made her even more compassionate. Yet now, faced with raw, unrelenting suffering, his heart remained eerily still.
No pity. No rage.
Just… nothing.
And that unsettled him more than the massacre itself.
Mei Mei tilted her head slightly as she watched a knight casually behead an old man. "Master," she asked in her melodic voice, "shall we intervene?" There was no particular concern in her tone - she had long since stopped caring about strangers. In their previous world, she had only ever cared for Lucian and their small circle. Now, after their transformation, she viewed these screaming villagers as little more than insects beneath notice.
Lucian's expression remained impassive as he watched another villager fall. "We should," he replied calmly. "We need information." His crimson eyes tracked the movements of the knights methodically slaughtering the defenseless peasants. Death had never particularly troubled him - in Yggdrasil, resurrection had been commonplace. Though he wasn't certain if the same rules applied here, it was worth investigating. More importantly, both villagers and knights might possess valuable knowledge about this world.
"Shiraori," Lucian murmured, his voice barely audible above the chaos.
In an instant, the white-haired woman materialized before him, kneeling midair with her head bowed in perfect submission.
"Eliminate all the knights," Lucian commanded, his voice calm but carrying absolute authority. "Spare only their highest-ranking member. And ensure the villagers survive."
Shiraori didn't hesitate. "As you command, Master," she responded softly before vanishing as suddenly as she had appeared, leaving only a faint disturbance in the air.
Mei Mei made no move to follow. As Lucian's shadow, her place was always and only by his side. Below them, the nature of the screams began to shift - the terrified cries of villagers now turned into the panicked shouts of knights facing an unstoppable predator.
Lucian's gaze shifted to the village outskirts, where a particular sight caught his attention—one that intrigued him deeply.
"She's so brave," Lucian murmured as he watched the young girl headbutt the armored knight, completely unconcerned about potentially breaking her skull or injuring herself. Despite the distance, his enhanced vision allowed him to witness the scene with perfect clarity, as if he were standing right there.
Mei Mei's focus also turned to the scene. The girl was indeed brave... but also foolish.
"I'm going to save her," Lucian declared. In an instant, he vanished in a trail of golden lightning, with Mei Mei following suit—disappearing into his shadow as she always did.
And that was what had led to that moment...
Lucian now stood before the village square, where the corpses of knights and villagers lay scattered across the ground. At the center of the square, Shiraori floated gracefully, her white threads binding three knights together as they screamed in panic and fear at what they had just witnessed.
Lucian's crimson eyes swept over the fallen knights - their bodies bore no wounds, no slashes or cuts of any kind, yet they lay dead nonetheless.
'She must have used her Evil Eye skills,' he mused. 'And those threads are likely another of her racial abilities.'
The instant Shiraori noticed him, she teleported directly in front of him and bowed her head in reverence.
The villagers and their chief watched the scene with wide, baffled eyes, their breath catching in their throats with each new development - first the appearance of this mysterious woman in white, and now this extraordinarily beautiful young man who seemed to command her.
"How many knights were there?" Lucian inquired calmly, circling the three bound knights like a predator examining its prey. The captured men squirmed in their silken restraints, their voices overlapping in desperate pleas:
"I'll give you all my gold! My family's entire fortune!"
"Mercy, my lord! We'll do anything you ask, please spare us!"
The battalion captain's voice rose above the others, his face slick with panicked sweat. "Everything I own! Lands, titles, wealth, just spare my life!"
A heavy silence fell as Lucian's crimson eyes began to glow with otherworldly light. "Silence."
The single word carried such overwhelming authority that the captain's jaw clamped shut mid-plea. His eyes glazed over, his body going completely still as if turned to stone. The other two knights froze in terror, their panicked breaths the only sound in the suddenly quiet square.
"There were thirty-four knights, Master," Shiraori reported, moving smoothly to stand behind him in a clear display of subservience as Lucian observed the villagers.
"Hmm... rather small for a battalion," Lucian mused, resting his fingers thoughtfully against his chin with elegant poise. "It seems their sole purpose was to massacre this village... How suspicious."
"Nevertheless," he continued, "I rescued two young girls at the village outskirts. Bring them here immediately—they're marked with [Vice Mark] for identification.".
Shiraori gave a silent nod before vanishing. In the blink of an eye, she reappeared with two trembling girls materializing beside her.
The elder girl appeared no more than sixteen—her golden hair slightly disheveled, fair skin flawless, and wearing an exquisite frilled dress that remained miraculously pristine despite the chaos. Were it not for her tear-streaked, terrified expression that spoke of recent mortal struggle, she might have been mistaken for a noble's daughter.
Clutching her hand stood a younger girl of about ten, her reddish-brown hair framing freckled cheeks still flushed with fear.
The girls gasped in shock as they suddenly found themselves transported, having never even seen Shiraori move. Their wide eyes darted between their unfamiliar surroundings and the three knights bound in nearly invisible spider threads.
"Ah, don't be alarmed," Lucian reassured them, noticing their terrified glances at the restrained knights. "I'm merely detaining them for questioning."
His attention then shifted to the devastated villagers scrambling across the square - some desperately tending to dying loved ones, others kneeling beside lifeless bodies. The air hung heavy with grief as anguished wails and heartbroken cries echoed through the burning village, creating an atmosphere of overwhelming despair.
Yet Lucian's gaze soon drifted upward, his crimson eyes locking onto something unseen in the sky above. A knowing smirk curled his lips as he murmured words too quiet for anyone else to hear.
***
Momonga sat upon a plush, cushioned seat in his private quarters, his skeletal fingers resting against the armrests as he gazed into the one-meter-wide mirror before him. Unlike ordinary mirrors, this one did not reflect his hollow, skully visage—instead, it displayed a live image of a distant village.
This was the Mirror of Remote Viewing, a prized magic item from Yggdrasil often used by PKers and anti-PK hunters. However, its functions in this new world were different—it had taken Momonga nearly eight hours of trial and error to decipher its altered mechanics.
Now, however, he had mastered it.
The mirror's surface shimmered with the image of a small settlement roughly ten kilometers south of Nazarick, nestled near a dense forest and surrounded by sprawling wheat fields.
"Finally…" His hollow eye sockets gleamed with an eerie light. "A sign of civilization in this unknown world."
Momonga brought his skeletal fingers⁷ together in a pinching motion, and the mirror's image zoomed in rapidly. The distant view of the village sharpened to reveal a scene far different from what he had anticipated.
"Why are they running? Some sort of festival?" he murmured to himself. With a casual swipe of his fingers, the scene shifted again - this time focusing on a fully armored knight ruthlessly decapitating a woman as she desperately tried to protect her children.
"That's..." Momonga's empty eye sockets seemed to widen slightly. This was no celebration - it was a wholesale slaughter.
What truly unsettled him wasn't the brutality itself, but his complete lack of emotional response. He felt nothing - no outrage, no pity - just the detached indifference of someone observing ants being crushed underfoot. With a derisive snort, he prepared to change the view...
...when what unfolded next left him utterly speechless.
A sudden flash of white interrupted the carnage. A woman materialized in the village square, her pristine robes billowing despite the absence of wind. With a single graceful motion, she raised her hand - and her eyes snapped open.
Those impossible eyes.
Rubies set with four pupils arranged in an X-pattern, each eye centered with a miniature humanoid iris.
The effect was instantaneous. Every knight in the village, except for three, collapsed simultaneously, their armored bodies hitting the ground with metallic thuds. Not a single wound marked them - they simply... stopped living. Like discarded marionettes whose strings had been severed.
Momonga's skeletal fingers clenched the armrests of his throne as he lurched forward. "That's-!" The words died in his nonexistent throat. That power... that appearance...
"An NPC? From another guild base?" His mind raced with dreadful possibilities. Had other guilds been transported here too? The thought chilled him to the bone.
Then the second figure appeared.
Momonga would have gasped if he still had lungs.
The young man stepped into view with effortless grace, his divine beauty almost painful to behold. Gold-veined white robes draped his perfect form, the crimson accents matching the glow of his piercing eyes. His hair flowed like liquid moonlight, strands of gold shimmering within silver.
But most striking were those eyes - twin pools of crimson that Momonga would recognize anywhere across the 9 realms.
After exchanging quiet words, the white-robed woman vanished in a blink, reappearing moments later with two additions - a pair of terrified young girls clinging to each other.
"Luci—"
Momonga nearly uttered the name of the figure reflected in the Mirror of Remote Viewing—but before he could finish, Sebas, who had been standing silently beside him all this time, suddenly spoke.
"Lucian-sama!"
The elderly butler's eyes widened in shock, immediately realizing his grave mistake. He snapped into a deep bow, his head lowered in shame.
"Forgive my insolence, Momonga-sama." His voice was thick with remorse. A butler should never interrupt his master—no matter how instinctive his reaction. Such behavior was unbefitting of his station.
Momonga waved a skeletal hand dismissively. "It's fine… I forgive you."
With that, he settled back onto his throne, his crimson gaze returning to the mirror's vision—where Lucian still stood amidst the ruined village.
"You know Lucian?" Momonga asked, his hollow eye sockets glancing subtly at Sebas. There had been something unusual in the butler's tone when he spoke that name - an undercurrent of... anger? Resentment? It was difficult to place.
Sebas bowed even deeper, his hands clasped tightly before him. "Indeed. My creator, Touch Me-sama, spoke of Lucian-sama frequently." The way his voice strained around the name suggested some old history.
"Hmm..." Momonga mused, skeletal fingers resting against his chin. 'So other players exist in this world too...'His hollow gaze remained fixed on Lucian's image in the mirror - until suddenly, the man's crimson eyes shifted upward.
No—
Not just upward.
He was looking directly at him.
A slow, knowing smirk curled Lucian's lips as he formed silent words that Momonga's enhanced perception easily deciphered:
"I can see you."
The realization struck like lightning. "Sebas!" Momonga launched from his throne, the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown flying to his grasp with supernatural speed.
"At your command, Momonga-sama!" The butler snapped to perfect attention, battle-ready and straight back despite his aged appearance.
"Place Nazarick on maximum alert!" Momonga's voice resonated with commanding authority as a sinister dark aura began radiating from his skeletal form. "Inform Albedo to fully arm herself—we may be facing formidable opponents. She is permitted to use Ginnungagap."
Crimson dots flared in his eye sockets as he continued, "Prepare backup units in case of emergency retreat. Dispatch a stealth detachment to survey the village immediately."
Sebas remained perfectly still, absorbing every order with military precision.
"You shall prepare as well," Momonga added, the dark energy around him intensifying. "And instruct Shalltear, Cocytus, and Mare to equip their full battle gear."
With a deep bow that made his coattails flutter, Sebas responded: "By your will, Momonga-sama!"
In an instant, the venerable butler vanished—his form blurring into the shadows as he raced to execute his master's commands with flawless efficiency.
"Lucian... Lucian... Lucian..."
Momonga's skeletal fingers clenched and unclenched as he paced across his office. Of all people to encounter in this new world, Lucian was both the most welcome and most dangerous possibility.
Even as a dear friend, he was a nightmare as an opponent.
In Yggdrasil, Lucian had stood among the absolute strongest—surpassing even Touch Me in raw destructive potential. But now? Momonga had no idea what changes this world might have wrought upon him. His own transformation into an undead had altered his mind in subtle ways... How much had Lucian changed?
Caution was paramount.
The fact Lucian could perceive the Mirror of Remote Viewing spoke volumes. Few classes granted such an ability—which meant Lucian likely possessed even deadlier secrets.
Logically, Nazarick's safest option was to: 1. Fortify their defenses 2. Wait for hostile action 3. Avoid unnecessary contact
Yet...
"I can't afford passivity."
If other players existed here, allying with Lucian now could prevent catastrophe later. In an unknown world, alliances were survival.
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