Dawn arrived quietly over Village Ainz, but the air carried a nervous excitement unlike anything Sirius had yet seen.
Chickens scattered as villagers sprinted across the central square, dragging crates, stones, planks, and whatever they could find to form a "stage." Sirius stood at the edge of the square, arms crossed behind his back, observing their frantic preparations with a calm, unreadable posture.
It was… underwhelming.
The villagers had arranged a roughly circular arena using overturned barrels, broken fence posts, and a few large flat stones that looked suspiciously like pieces of someone's roof.
Sirius tilted his skull.
"Is that a laundry board?" he murmured.
One of the elders bowed deeply. "It was the straightest thing we could find, my lord!"
"I see." Sirius clasped his hands behind him. "How… resourceful."
"Thank you, Lord Sirius!" the elder shouted, beaming proudly.
Sirius held back a sigh.
He supposed he could not expect grandeur from a village that barely had enough wood to repair its own houses. And yet, despite the slapdash construction, the villagers were determined, and most times, determination was a currency more valuable than gold.
They believed in him. They believed in this contest. They believed in their Undying Ruler.
"Lord Sirius!" Mira called out, jogging toward him with uncharacteristic excitement. "We're almost ready."
Sirius turned to her. "Good. I want the contest to begin promptly. Gather the participants."
"Yes, my lord!"
She ran off, basket bouncing against her hip. Sirius watched her go, his hollow eyes narrowing slightly.
Something about her… was unusual.
Not power. She didn't radiate mana like trained mages did but her demeanor was fierce. Almost too fierce.
Why?
He filed the thought away.
The villagers soon gathered in a wide circle around the ramshackle arena. Children sat atop barrels, their feet dangling. Adults huddled together, whispering. Elders knelt reverently near the edge, as if witnessing a holy ceremony.
Sirius stepped forward, letting his presence wash over them. His mana remained locked behind mental barriers. He would not risk destroying anything, but even restrained, his aura commanded respect.
"Villagers of Ainz," Sirius began, his voice echoing through the square, "today marks the start of our path toward strength."
Murmurs spread through the crowd.
"You have lived in fear. You have suffered under those stronger than you. Your previous ruler," he said carefully, "attempted to defy those forces… and fell."
Heads bowed. Some wept.
Sirius continued, tone steady. "I do not intend to repeat history."
The villagers tensed.
"I intend to surpass it."
A ripple of awe passed through them.
"So today," Sirius said, gesturing to the crude arena, "you will show me your potential. Your control. Your spirit. The first contest of Ainz begins now."
The crowd erupted in cheers, and Sirius raised a hand for silence.
"Round of thirty-two," he commanded. "Step forward."
Sixteen pairs of villagers moved hesitantly into the ring. Some were teens. Some adults. One man looked old enough to have one foot already in the grave, but he held a wooden staff with determination.
Sirius raised his voice. "The rules are simple. Use only mana. No weapons. No fatal strikes. First one to fall, submit, or run out of mana loses."
A few participants paled.
"And," Sirius added, "no blowing up the arena."
Everyone looked very specifically at the young man in the back.
He looked away, pretending not to understand why.
Sirius lowered his arm. "Begin."
The first matches were… humbling.
A woman with white hair tried to summon fire and instead created a small spark that fizzled out immediately. Her opponent tried to summon wind and ended up blowing dust into his own eyes.
The villagers cheered anyway.
Another match featured a man attempting to shape water from a bucket placed nearby. He managed to lift it barely, but it slipped control and drenched him completely. His opponent, who had done nothing at all, won by default.
Sirius remained still, observing, analyzing.
Weak, yes. Very weak.
But they were not hopeless.
Raw potential could be cultivated with training, discipline, and proper guidance. And once he learned to control his own overpowered mana, he could teach them or weaponize them. Or both.
When the tenth match concluded with both contestants collapsing from exhaustion after producing a single spark between them, Sirius began reconsidering whether 32 participants had been overly optimistic.
He almost ended the round early… until Mira stepped into the ring.
Sirius tilted his head in surprise.
"You are participating?" he asked.
Mira bowed deeply. "Yes, Lord Sirius."
"You didn't mention that last night."
"I didn't want to boast," she said with a sheepish smile.
Her opponent, a lanky boy with a nervous expression, gulped loudly.
Sirius watched carefully.
"Very well," he said. "Begin."
The boy struck first. He raised his hands shakily, whispering a chant under his breath. Mana flickered weakly around his palms.
"F-Fire spark!"
A tiny flame appeared.
Then immediately winked out.
He gasped and tried again. And again. Each attempt produced nothing more than the faintest ember.
Mira didn't even move.
She watched him calmly, politely, patiently.
When he finally ran out of mana and sagged to his knees, panting, she stepped forward gently.
"My turn?"
He nodded meekly.
Mira lifted her right hand. There was no chant. Neither did she make any dramatic gesture.
She simply focused.
A small but perfectly shaped water sphere formed above her palm. Crystal-clear, smooth, steady. Not large, not powerful — but stable. Far more stable than any spell Sirius had yet seen from the villagers.
She floated it forward with careful control and set it gently on her opponent's head like a crown.
Then she dispelled it without spilling a drop.
The crowd gasped.
That was it. That was her entire display.
Sirius narrowed his eyes. 'Not flashy but precise.'
Her mana control was far above the others.
The match ended instantly. Mira bowed politely to her opponent, who bowed back in embarrassment before stumbling out of the ring.
Sirius stepped forward. "Winner: Mira. Proceed to the round of sixteen."
The villagers applauded loudly. "What control!"
"She didn't even chant!"
"She's blessed by the Undying Ruler!"
Mira blushed slightly but kept her head bowed.
'I haven't blessed anyone! I'm just as surprised as you lot.' Sirius studied her silently.
She was different.
Perhaps talent. Perhaps training. Perhaps even something deeper.
He made a mental note. 'Observe Mira carefully.'
He turned back to the remaining contestants. "Continue the matches. Do not stop."
The rest of the Round of 32 unfolded much the same. Some villagers managed passable spells; most did not. By the time the round ended, Sirius had a clearer estimate of the village's capabilities.
Sixteen participants remained, including Mira, the old man with the wooden staff, and several youths with minimal potential.
Sirius waved a hand, carefully, so as not to destroy anything if his mana leaked out. "Round of sixteen will begin after a short rest."
The villagers dispersed happily, chattering among themselves. Some children mimicked Mira's water spell. Several adults discussed mana theory with a confidence they clearly lacked. Elders whispered to each other about omens and divine blessings.
Sirius stood silently in the shade of the shrine.
His mind whirled.
He now had a village of weak mages. A poor settlement. A dead predecessor. A Kingdom that could kill liches.
Above all of that, the overwhelming mana he couldn't control was even more troublesome.
He could build something here. He could raise them to true strength. He could protect this place. Or conquer far beyond it.
But first, he glanced at the villagers preparing for the round of sixteen.
He needed to understand them. Their talents. Their spirits.
Just as importantly, he needed to understand this world that had claimed the original Lich and survive such a world.
He touched his bony fingers to his chin thoughtfully.
"Mira…" he murmured, watching her help carry water buckets for competitors. "What exactly are you capable of?"
Whatever the answer was, Sirius knew one thing.
This contest would shape the future of Ainz. And perhaps the future of the entire region.