The next day, the decision was made: Nazarick would dismantle Eight Fingers and assault the royal capital.
It happened fast. Too fast.
First, Sebas's loyalty was cleared, and Tuare was taken under Nazarick's protection-jointly approved by Belial and Momonga. So far, no problems.
Then Tuare was kidnapped by Eight Fingers.
Momonga lost his temper.
Belial had seen him angry before, but this was different. The Overlord's fury, combined with his undead appearance, was genuinely terrifying-like a demon king from legend.
The plan came together quickly. Sebas would rescue Tuare. Eight Fingers would be crushed and brought under Nazarick's control. As a cover, demons would attack the capital-and loot it.
Demiurge had proposed it, and Momonga, not fully understanding but trusting his subordinate, had signed off. Belial couldn't fault him; he'd have done the same.
Demiurge also contacted Renner to smooth things over. He'd planned to invoke the name of the Demon Emperor Baal-Belial's alter ego-to cow her into cooperation. Instead, Renner had been enthusiastic.
"My, Lord Baal? Then I'll gladly assist! I owe him so much-he brought Climb and me together, and he showed me such a wonderful expression on Climb's face. If possible, could he rape me again in front of Climb? The way Climb breaks down in helpless tears is simply adorable!"
Even Demiurge had been taken aback.
That woman was deeply, fundamentally broken. Maybe I shouldn't have gotten involved with her at all.
A princess willing to sacrifice her own people for her fetish.
At any rate, the capital was going to burn. I had responsibilities-both as a member of Nazarick and as Beryl of Silver Wings. I needed to make sure my "new pet" didn't die.
But I wasn't a strategic genius. Left to Demiurge alone, the plan would end in massacre. The other guardians were just as ruthless toward humans.
There was only one person I could use.
"Lazlo, can you handle the rest of the planning?"
"No. Father, sit down and think with me."
She refused flatly.
"Can't I just leave it to you?"
"No. Sit. We're deciding how to handle those girls."
In the end, I sat beside Lazlo, adjusting her proposals with my knowledge of the original story.
-x-X-x-
Late that night.
Outside a mansion in the capital-the residence of Hilma, head of Eight Fingers' drug trade.
A single maid stood before the building, holding a severed human arm. She brought it to her mouth and bit down.
Crunch.
The sound was like an insect's mandibles grinding, accompanied by the stench of blood.
Above, giant beetles laden with stolen treasure flew toward a predetermined location. The maid watched them go.
Her name was Entoma Vasilissa Zeta-one of Nazarick's battle maids, a member of the Pleiades. She was an arachnoid insect-user, her appearance that of a beautiful girl, but her face was a human-shaped insect mask. Her voice was produced by throat bugs. She was a swarm given human form.
Burp.
A cute little belch escaped from the throat-mouth, carrying the reek of fresh blood.
"Muscular men really are the best for dieting."
The childish voice came from a lip bug mimicking human speech.
Entoma reflected on the mission. Subduing the fleeing humans had been troublesome, but the target, Hilma, had been cooperative-thanks to Belial's prior "attention."
The Six Arms member Edström had been collected as a souvenir for Belial. 'My lord really loves violating human women.'
The job had gone off without a hitch, and she was right on schedule.
"Entoma-chan, good work."
She turned at the voice behind her.
"Lazlo-sama, thank you. Is there something you need?"
Standing there was a Doppelgänger with an egg-smooth face and hollow eyes-Lazlo, Belial's personal maid. She wore the standard Nazarick maid uniform, but her face was her true one, not the childish guise she usually wore.
"Yes. I need to deal with the adventurers who will arrive here soon."
"Should I stay and help?"
"No, thank you. This is a solo assignment."
"Understood. Then I'll go on ahead."
"Yes, get some rest, Entoma-chan."
Summoning a giant beetle, Entoma was lifted into the air and flew off.
Lazlo watched her go, thinking how adorable she was.
Then she stood alone before the mansion-now devoid of survivors-and looked up at the sky.
A Greater Doppelgänger could copy roughly eighty percent of a target's abilities-appearance and skills, but not equipment or mastery. Even copying an enemy wouldn't guarantee victory. That was the weakness of the race.
But what if the copied form was max-level?
A level 100 target meant an effective level of 80. More than enough for most enemies.
"It's been a while since I used this form."
Lazlo's body shifted and warped. Beast-like head, bat wings, a writhing tail, a hulking frame-the perfect reproduction of her beloved creator's heteromorphic shape. She picked up a leftover from Entoma's meal.
Crunch.
She bit down. Blood and viscera dripped from her jaws.
"Still tastes awful."
Lazlo was a monster that could eat humans, but she didn't enjoy it. Not a matter of ethics-just preference. Entoma had made it look delicious, but it wasn't.
"Edible, but not worth eating."
The raw meat stank. The hamburgers in Nazarick's cafeteria were a hundred times better.
She spat out the morsel and tossed the rest aside. Then her gaze shifted to the shadows.
"I know you're there. Come out within three seconds."
From behind the trees, a figure emerged.
"Oi, oi... I never heard Eight Fingers was in bed with demons."
A giant woman at first sight could be mistaken for a man in red armor, war pick in hand. Lazlo recognized her-Gagaran of Blue Rose.
"As Father predicted. Truly, he is magnificent."
Inwardly praising her creator, Lazlo turned to face the warrior.