The mountain range pierced the heavens, a jagged row of fangs biting into the skyline of the world. At its zenith stood the highest peak known to mortals, a silent sentinel scourged by a wind that did not merely blow, but screamed. It was a gale of such physical weight that it would freeze the moisture in a man's lungs before he could exhale.
Here, the scars of the earth were still raw. Deep, gaping mouths marred the slopes—ancient mines stripped bare centuries ago by the insatiable avarice of the Eight Greed Kings. They were forgotten testaments to a hunger that had once swallowed the world.
But deep within the mountain's heart, where the biting cold could not trespass, a "Transcendent One" had constructed his sanctuary.
It was a monument to magnificence that bordered on madness.
What had likely begun as a colossal volcanic cavern formed in the Age of Gods had been tamed, polished, and gilded. Every inch of jagged rock was coated in thick gold leaf and inlaid with gemstones the size of a grown man's fist. It was a sprawling, luxurious mural that trapped the light, reflecting it endlessly until the air itself seemed to shimmer with suspended gold dust.
Runes of ancient Wild Magic—the primordial power of the world—pulsed faintly within the architecture. They maintained a perpetual, spring-like warmth, a silent testament to the master's dominion over reality.
Any mortal royalty would have been struck dumb by the sight, their minds paralyzed by a toxic mixture of greed and terror. It was wealth without concealment, opulence without restraint.
Yet, beneath the vulgar display lay a profound, unsettling atmosphere.
Forests of stone pillars rose to the ceiling, but they were not mere supports. Each had been carved into a statue. They depicted nude females of every race—humans, elves, orcs, and species long extinct. The craftsmanship was terrifying; the stone flesh seemed soft to the touch, the expressions caught in moments of ecstasy or despair so lifelike it was grotesque.
A figure clad in Platinum Armor walked through this silent harem of stone.
The empty helm turned left and right, the enchanted metal optics taking in the display with palpable weariness. A heavy, metallic sigh echoed from within the suit—a sound that carried the weight of centuries.
"... Truly amazing, in the worst possible way. Are these all his works?"
"Yes... yes, my lord. They are all magnificent works of art carved by the esteemed Master himself..."
The answer came from a trembling figure cowering in the shadow of a golden column. She was a young girl with the ears, eyes, and tail of a cat, though her anatomy was otherwise human. To Platinum Dragon Lord's knowledge, she was a Therianthrope—a rare demi-human race found in the shrinking pockets of the wild.
She was a dual-purpose acquisition: a domestic servant, and a subject for his obsessive "lineage experiments."
Tsaindorcus Vaision felt a familiar churn of disgust in his remote consciousness. The methods of the sanctuary's master were abhorrent. And yet, looking at the girl—clad only in thin, translucent silk that offered no protection against anything but the magically regulated air—he said nothing.
"Honestly." The Armor's voice was flat, vibrating with suppressed judgment. "If one ignores the fact that he is a deviant... the man could be considered a true artist among our kind. A master of stone, if not... flesh."
"H-Huh?!"
The girl panicked, her tail fluffing in terror. She looked as though she expected the gilded walls to sprout mouths and devour her for hearing such casual blasphemy against her god.
"Take me to him."
"Yes... yes! Please, follow me..."
They ventured deeper into the glittering abyss. The further they walked, the more the murals shifted. Abstract designs gave way to history—the world before the corruption of the "Players." Dragons soaring through star-dusted skies, raw arcane energy shaping mountains, a world pure and undefiled.
The path ended in a vast, oval chamber. Here, the gold gave way to the hoard of a scholar. Books were piled like small mountains, creating a labyrinth of parchment and leather. Ancient scrolls, forbidden grimoires, and meticulous anatomical charts of extinct creatures jostled for space.
In the center sat a massive square platform made of a single, uncut crystal, pulsing with a deep, internal rhythm.
Upon it lay the Dragon Lord.
He possessed a form of exceptionally arrogant beauty. Every scale on his body was not merely a shield, but a prism, reflecting a dazzling, dreamlike spectrum of light that shifted with his mood. A symphony of color that could entrance the weak or blind the foolish.
"My kin..."
The dragon did not rise. His voice boomed, vibrating the Platinum Armor's chest plates like a tuning fork. It was the sound of grinding tectonic plates imbued with liquid starlight.
"The Brightness Dragon Lord, Zia'till Móws'rexlixe. It has been ages„ Platinum.
The dragon shifted his massive head, vertical slit pupils focusing on the visitor. "... And you. The esteemed Son of the Dragon Emperor, the 'Platinum Dragon Lord.' It has indeed been a long time."
Zia'till nodded carelessly to the cat-girl. She bowed deeply and turned to flee, but the dragon's voice—smooth as silk, cold as absolute zero—arrested her.
"Oh. Wait. Lafite."
The girl froze instantly. She dropped to her knees, forehead touching the cold crystal floor. "Yes! Yes! Is there anything else you need, Master?"
Zia'till narrowed his eyes. "It has been two weeks since our last union... You do not look any different. I smell no change in your hormones. Have you still failed to conceive? My research notes indicate that Therianthropes should have a higher compatibility coefficient."
"I... I am so sorry, Master..." she whimpered, her voice barely a whisper. "I have consumed all the tonics, as instructed."
"We shall try again tonight," Zia'till stated, his tone as casual as a man discussing the weather. "Perhaps a different sequence of auras."
"Ah—"
The man in the Platinum Armor visibly stiffened. Tsaindorcus had witnessed Zia'till's "experiments" before.
He truly sees them as nothing more than biological components, Platinum thought
his metallic fist clenching. Raw material for his grand designs. And yet... his results speak for themselves. The progeny he creates are imbued with Wild Magic, a fading power that might be our only hope against the coming storm.
It was a bitter pill. To save the world, he had to tolerate its monsters.
"Remember to drink the potion I synthesized after you leave," Zia'till added lazily, scratching the crystal floor with a talon. A faint chime echoed through the vast chamber. "Otherwise, even if I take humanoid form, you mortals are so fragile... you will break under the strain. And a broken vessel is useless."
"Yes... yes."
She scrambled away, disappearing into the shadows of the library. Zia'till watched her go with a speculative glint before turning his massive head back toward the Platinum Armor.
"I apologize for the domestic display, Char. Even though we dragons can theoretically reproduce with any race, practically speaking... The failure rate is irritatingly high. It throws off my genetic models and creates... unacceptable variables."
As a moment of quiet passed, the Brightness Dragon Lord observed the Platinum Armor's continued silence and responded with a low, knowing chuckle
"Hahaha! So what if you call me a pervert? I don't care. I am accustomed to the criticism from our own kind. They lack vision. They cling to ancient ways while the world shifts beneath their talons,
My 'perversions,' as you call them, are the cutting edge of draconic evolution.
Tier Magic, the gift of the Six Great Gods and the Eight Greed Kings,
has utterly corrupted this world's magical ecosystem.
Our blood, our inherent Wild Magic, is the only true power left. And my creations?
They are designed to bring forth beings with purer, more potent innate Wild Magic."
"And your methods involve... force," Platinum pressed.
"I offer them a chance at immortality, Char! Besides," Zia'till's voice dropped to a seductive purr, "the act itself is... pleasurable. For me,
at least. If you ask me, you should actively try breeding with other races. You get used to the sensory differences after a few tries."
"That is enough. That is not why I came." The Platinum Armor decisively cut off the topic. "Do you remember your country? The Dragon Kingdom in the northwest."
Zia'till exhaled a puff of glittering smoke. "... Ah. The breeding ground where that child is from... The Queen, yes? Draudillon. Speaking of which, it was you who asked me to establish it."
"The cycles of the world are aligning," Platinum said. "It is almost time for another 'century-long aftershock.' A wave of Players arriving to corrupt our world."
The Brightness of Dragon Lord's eyes sharpened. A sudden predatory gleam replaced his earlier languor.
"Hmph. We don't need grand moral reasons to be hostile to Players, do we, Char?
They are pollutants. Distortions in reality. Their very existence unravels the Wild Magic that binds this world. They must be purged."
"Zia'till, I want you to go back to the Dragon Kingdom. The Sorcerer Kingdom—that nation created by the new Player—is spiraling out of control. It is an undead dominion."
"Are they like the Eight Greed Kings? Do they seek to conquer the world through sheer force?"
"No. It is different. They are insidious. Their leader, the Sorcerer King Ainz Ooal Gown, is an undead magic casterI fought him head-on using this armor. To be honest,
he was not a formidable opponent for my main body. He relies on Tier Magic,
and while potent, it has its limits."
Platinum paused, the optics of his helm glowing faintly.
"However, his subordinate... a woman in black armor... she is noteworthy.
She possesses a World Item. Her defense is impenetrable by normal means."
"Hey, don't just ramble on about tactics, Char. We cannot let them expand? Is that it?"
"Correct. We need a deterrent in the south. If you return to the Dragon Kingdom, your presence alone will force them to hesitate. We will box them in. The Council State to the north, the Dragon Kingdom to the south, and the Slane Theocracy as the hammer."
Platinum's strategy was one of calculated containment. With the Sorcerer Kingdom hemmed in by the Council State to the north and the Dragon Kingdom to the south—compounded by the ever-present shadow of the Slane Theocracy—Ainz Ooal Gown would be forced into a stalemate. This breathing room would allow them to consolidate their disparate strengths. It would be ideal to leverage the Theocracy as the vanguard against the Sorcerer King, Platinum mused. Their 'Certain Death' asset, in particular, would be a vital countermeasure against the threat of a Player.
Zia'till hesitated, his tail twitching rhythmically against the crystal. "... But I am different from you, Char. I am a scholar, a lover, a geneticist... not a blunt instrument of war. My combat ability is far inferior to yours."
"Do not be modest. Your Wild Magic is potent. Without a World-Class Item, I wouldn't even be qualified to fight you, would I?"
"Hmph. You certainly know how to flatter when you are desperate."
Zia'till fell silent. The crystals in the room seemed to hum in resonance with his thoughts. Finally, he exhaled a breath that shimmered with contained energy.
"... Alright. Let me prepare. I will return to the Dragon Kingdom in about a month."
"You have my gratitude—"
"Don't rush, Char. I want payment. And not in meaningless gold. I require something... special."
The Brightness Dragon Lord raised his head. A gleam of intense, unholy curiosity ignited in his reptilian eyes. He laughed low in his throat, a sound that vibrated through the floorboards of the world.
"My mating experiments are entering a new phase. I require... rarer stock. Something beyond humans and demi-humans. You said this Sorcerer King has powerful lieutenants? You specifically mentioned a 'woman in black armor' with wings and horns."
He leaned forward, his massive face inches from the Platinum Armor.
"You, who used to be so close to the Players of the past... you saw their 'NPCs,' their creations. Tell me, Char."
Zia'till licked his lips, his tongue a fork of lightning.
"Have you ever heard of the existence of a 'Succubus'?"