Chapter 24: Roble Holy Kingdom (2)
"Fainting isn't as easy as people think."
Even as an Adamantite-ranked adventurer, Arche had passed out countless times before — but oddly enough, the more she experienced it, the more resistant she became.
The body learned to endure, and the mind adapted.
Still, in the past week alone, she'd lost count of how many times she'd collapsed.
What was supposed to be a simple assault on Ainz's hidden base had spiraled into a week-long ordeal.
During that time, Kaiser had trained her relentlessly — calling it "discipline."
He forced her into battles she couldn't comprehend, alternating between brutal sparring sessions and lectures that drilled knowledge into her brain like a hammer: how to fight larger opponents, how to dominate smaller ones, how to counter sword users, spear wielders, archers, even assassins and ninjas — rare combat types Arche had only heard about in theory.
It wasn't just memorization.
He made her live each scenario until her body reacted instinctively.
For Arche, who had always been good at memorizing spells and incantations, this wasn't hard mentally — but physically, it was punishing beyond belief.
Kaiser's "training" was closer to survival warfare.
He'd throw her into water against amphibious monsters, steal her Rosario and toss it into a nest of trolls before teleporting away, and force her to fight her way out on her own.
By the end of it, Arche wondered if her survival was divine intervention — or perhaps, Kaiser's unseen protection.
Either way, she couldn't deny a strange sense of pride that she had survived.
As an Adamantite adventurer, she'd believed she'd already endured the harshest trials — but compared to this week, everything else was trivial.
For seven days, there had been no rest, no sleep — only battle after battle.
When her mana recovered, she was sent to fight.
When her stamina returned, she was sent to fight again.
When she tried to sleep, ambushes struck.
And through it all, Arche was sure of one thing:
Kaiser's hand was behind every "coincidence."
....
"Now that we're in town, you can finally rest," Kaiser said.
"We're not teleporting to an erupting volcano this time, are we?"
"You really don't trust me, do you?"
"After saying 'let's rest' five times this week and teleporting me into a swamp, a cave, and a troll pit? No, I do not."
Kaiser looked slightly guilty — but only slightly.
He knew exactly why he pushed her like this.
Growth required despair.
Comfort bred weakness; the tension between hope and agony forged true strength.
He didn't understand why — he just knew it worked.
He himself had become what he was through that crucible.
"This time, I promise. You've earned a break. Those dark circles under your eyes are proof enough."
"And why are you fine, huh? You haven't slept either!"
Kaiser blinked innocently.
"Maybe I slept while you weren't looking?"
"You? Never. Not when you're watching to make sure I don't die."
....
Arche smiled faintly. Despite all the torment, one thing she knew for certain was this:
She would not die.
No matter how hopeless things became, she believed that Kaiser would keep her alive.
Anyone else might say that meant she could just collapse and let him handle things —but Arche refused to do that.
Because she remembered the look in his eyes.
Kaiser — the man once hailed as the Guardian of Humanity — had long surpassed the realm of men.
He had lived too long, grown too strong, and in that eternity, lost too much.
He was alone.
And Arche wanted to change that.
She didn't just want to be strong.
She wanted to walk beside him.
If that was impossible, then at least she wanted to stand behind him, sharing the same battlefield, the same moment in time.
....
"It's fine to trust me," Kaiser said softly. "Just don't worship me."
Depending on others too much was dangerous — even he knew that.
Still, he couldn't help but be impressed.
Most people would have broken under this.
But Arche had kept fighting — not because she feared death, but because she refused to give up.
"By the way," Kaiser added suddenly, "that outfit suits you."
"Thank you… though it's just practical. Nothing pretty about it."
"For a warrior, practicality is beauty."
"Your sense of fashion is highly suspicious, Kaiser."
Kaiser chuckled — then went quiet.
He reached into his pocket, fingers brushing against something unseen.
He still smiled, but Arche felt it —the shift in the air, the quiet heaviness beneath that gentle grin.
Something was on his mind.
Something he didn't want her to see.
And Arche, though exhausted and aching, found herself instinctively straightening her posture —
ready to listen, because the next words Kaiser spoke would matter.
"Wait here for a moment. You can manage on your own, right?"
"Yes… I don't think I can be of help in this matter."
Kaiser gave a faint, almost pained smile.
"That's both a blessing and a curse, you know. You're far too perceptive for your age… I wonder why someone so young had to learn to read people that well."
He gently placed a hand on Arche's head, brushing her hair aside.
"I'll see you in a bit."
"Understood. I'll just look around town for now. It's my first time in the Re-Estize Holy Kingdom, after all."
....
Kaiser ascended the stairs with brisk steps, his gaze fixed on the communication stone glowing faintly in his palm.
It hadn't been long since their last contact — too soon for a routine report.
His instincts screamed trouble.
And if there was one thing Kaiser trusted above all else, it was his instincts in battle.
From that small piece of stone, he could almost smell the battlefield — the thick stench of iron, of blood, of death.
It was as if the stone itself was bleeding with tension.
When he finally answered, there was silence at first.
Then, a deep, familiar voice echoed through.
[I want your opinion, Kaiser.]
In translation: I need your help.
Kaiser's expression sharpened.
"What happened?"
He was willing to help if it didn't endanger innocent lives — but the tone on the other end was grim.
After another moment of silence, Ainz Ooal Gown spoke again.
[Someone used mind control on Shalltear. A World Item was involved.]
Kaiser's expression hardened immediately.
The glimmer in his eyes shifted — no longer that of a warrior eager for a fight, but of the Guardian of Humanity preparing for catastrophe.
Countless possibilities flashed through his mind.
Who would dare provoke Nazarick like this?
And when Ainz inevitably retaliated, how far would the fallout spread?
"Understood," Kaiser said at last. "I'll head to Nazarick right away."
This wasn't just Ainz's problem.
If left unchecked, it could spiral into disaster for the world itself.
And Kaiser, though he hated politics and scheming, could not stand by while humanity was at risk.
....
A Few Days Later – The Holy Kingdom
Neia Baraja was, in a word — unfortunate.
Actually, make that deeply unfortunate.
A squire of the Paladins, she was still in training,
not yet a full-fledged knight of the Holy Kingdom.
She had defied her mother's opposition to pursue this path —or rather, her father's support had barely balanced out her mother's protests.
Even after being accepted as a squire, her daily life was filled with chores: hauling supplies, delivering orders, maintaining the armory —important work, perhaps, but not what one imagined when dreaming of knighthood.
And because of her sharp eyes, she often left a bad impression on citizens.
Few even remembered her face.
Ironically, those same piercing eyes came from her father —one of the Nine Colors, a warrior recognized by the Holy Queen herself.
As a child, she'd hated those eyes.
Now, she simply accepted them as part of who she was.
Today, as usual, Neia was out running errands — restocking magic scrolls for her unit.
She often told herself, If I just keep working hard, someone will notice.
She had talent — keen senses, excellent aim —but no one had given her a chance to fight yet.
And as she trudged through the alley, fate decided to remind her that life could always get worse.
"Hey! You deaf or something?"
"What are you staring at, huh?"
"I—I'm sorry!"
Neia Baraja was very unfortunate.
While heading to the supply store, she'd somehow caught the attention of three rough-looking workers — mercenaries in name, thugs in spirit.
Their glares were as bad as hers, their intentions worse.
Before she could even react, they had dragged her into a narrow side alley.
No one would come to help a lowly squire being cornered by armed adventurers —especially ones with local reputation.
She was, after all, just a trainee —a civilian in armor,
and in this moment, utterly alone.
"Yeah, you probably know who I am, right? A well-known worker. If you hand over all your money right now, I might just let you go."
"E-excuse me…? I don't have any money."
"Then hand over the scroll you're carrying."
"Th-this scroll… belongs to the Paladin Order. It's state property!"
"Not my problem, kid. You don't seem to get it — I'm not asking you to hand it over. I'm telling you to."
....
Neia could feel her anger rising — boiling, really — but she had no way to fight back.
There were three of them, all seasoned adventurers; and her only weapon was her voice.
Still, she knew that if she lost that scroll, there would be no saving her later.
If she couldn't win, she'd have to escape.
Her senses — inherited from her father, one of the famed Nine Colors — flared.
Someone was approaching. Slowly. Calmly.
....
"Boss," said one of the thugs, a scarred man who seemed to be the lookout.
Even he noticed it — the faint sound of soft footsteps.
When they turned, a girl came into view.
Her hair was pale gold, unevenly cut as if by a dagger.
Her robe was plain crimson, her staff old and worn,
yet the ordinary rosario around her neck somehow stood out.
A mismatched gauntlet gleamed faintly on one arm,
and a silver bracelet adorned the other.
Her expression wasn't cold — just tired.
Almost doll-like in her stillness.
Even to Neia, she looked refined — graceful, even.
A noble, perhaps?
But then Neia's eyes fell on the adventurer's plate hanging from the girl's neck—and her heart nearly stopped.
Adamantite…!?
The thugs realized it first.
"B-boss! She's Adamantite!"
"What!?"
The man they called boss — a muscular monk with a black tattoo running down his arm — glared at the newcomer.
The girl, however, barely spared him a glance as she approached.
And then, without hesitation, she spoke:
"I'm taking her."
"Huh?"
Before anyone could react, the girl reached out, grabbed Neia's arm, and began to lead her away.
"Hey! Who said you could just take her!?"
"You think you can just walk off!?"
The girl sighed, visibly annoyed.
Neia, caught between confusion and awe, could only stare.
Who was this girl?
Was she really here to save her?
And if she truly was Adamantite… how could someone their age already be that strong?
She couldn't be sure, but one thing was obvious:
The situation was about to explode.
The man called Jaiya, the monk, was infamous — a trained fighter, practically Orichalcum-tier.
Even an Adamantite mage couldn't take him lightly.
Neia's mind raced.
Even if she tried to help, she'd only be a burden.
The girl was outnumbered — two warriors and a monk against one caster.
It was suicide.
Unless…
"Lightning Shock."
The words fell softly from the girl's lips.
In the next instant—
⚡ KRAKOOOOOM! ⚡
A blinding flash swallowed the alleyway.
Thunder exploded against the walls.
Sparks danced across the cobblestones, and the smell of burning metal filled the air.
When the light faded, Neia saw them —three men sprawled on the ground, twitching, eyes wide in disbelief.
The girl didn't even look at them.
She simply tightened her grip on Neia's arm and said,
with calm, matter-of-fact precision—
"Let's go."
And in that moment, Neia realized —this girl wasn't just strong.
She was terrifying.
⚡KWAJIJIJIJIK!!⚡
A violent streak of lightning ripped through the air, slamming into a stack of wooden crates nearby.
The explosion of light and sound shredded the boxes into splinters, scorching the walls black with raw electric energy.
The thugs froze — jaws slack — instinctively stepping back.
All except one.
Jaiya, the monk, remained still.
He glared at the young girl who stood before them, crimson cloak fluttering faintly from the residual shockwave.
"You gonna move aside… or end up like those crates?"
"That spell of yours—" Jaiya's lips twisted into a grin as he cracked his knuckles.
"—you should've used it on me first!"
He lunged.
"Watch out!" Neia cried.
Jaiya's fist cut through the air, his mind already savoring the image — the girl's refined face contorted in pain, blood splattering across her pale skin.
Except—
She was gone.
"Wha—?"
Before he could even finish, a scream erupted behind him —
"GAAAAAHHH!"
Jaiya whipped around.
Both of his comrades were down, twitching, smoke rising from their bodies.
She vanished…!? Teleportation?
Even Neia, though untrained in high magic, recognized the impossibility of what she'd just witnessed.
Teleportation — a 3rd-tier spell.
And that lightning earlier… it wasn't just Lightning.
It was sharper, heavier — something beyond.
A 4th-tier spell, perhaps.
For someone this young— impossible.
Jaiya's expression darkened.
The girl, unfazed, stepped past him — her staff still faintly glowing.
"You okay?" she asked, turning briefly toward Neia.
Neia froze, unable to form a coherent response.
This girl — barely older than her, maybe the same age — radiated power, composure, and kindness all at once.
Now she understood why the men had called her Adamantite.
Behind her, Jaiya trembled with rage.
"You little—!"
He lunged again, reckless this time.
The girl didn't even look.
She simply extended her staff backward and whispered—
"Lightning."
⚡KRAKOOM!!⚡
A sharp flash filled the alley again.
Jaiya's body convulsed violently before collapsing sideways, his limbs jerking once before going still.
The girl lowered her hand, expression unchanged.
"Don't worry," she said quietly. "It wasn't enough to kill him. Just enough to make him regret it."
Then, turning back—
"You're not hurt, right?"
"A-ah… n-no. I'm fine. Thank you."
"You can drop the formal tone," the girl said softly.
"We look about the same age, don't we? Oh— you seemed angry for a moment."
"N-no! It's just… my eyes. They always look like this."
"I see." The girl gave a faint nod. "I'm Arche. And you are?"
"N-Neia."
Arche paused for a second, thinking. Then—
"Neia, would you mind showing me around the Holy Kingdom? I just got here and… well, I might've gotten a little lost."
Neia blinked.
"L-lost? Oh, uh— sure! I can help with that. And… thanks again, really."
Arche gave a small, quiet smile — barely visible, but real.
"Don't mention it."
Neia could tell — beneath that emotionless mask, this girl was a good person.
Anyone else would've walked past, but Arche had stepped in without hesitation.
Still, Neia couldn't help glancing back at the three unconscious men on the ground.
So this is what Adamantite power looks like…
A single mage — one her own age — had wiped out two seasoned fighters and a monk like it was nothing.
The gap between them was overwhelming.
Neia felt admiration… and a quiet, aching sense of smallness.
***************
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