Inside a room draped in opulent decor, Liriotte—better known as the "Thousand Mile Astrologer"—watched Clementine laugh while wondering aloud when lunch would be ready. Liriotte whispered to herself that she had made the right choice.
She had once been nothing more than a lowly apprentice librarian. Because of her innate talent for prophecy, she had been press-ganged into the Black Scripture. Her choices were simple: serve, be killed, or be forced into a political marriage with another talent-user. She had chosen to serve, even if it meant a life she loathed.
But I couldn't run, she thought.
She was just a girl who loved books. She had resigned herself to never having a normal life again. But after predicting the resurrection of the Dragon Lord of Destruction and Clementine's disappearance, a new path had opened in her visions. She had seen herself talking to Clementine in a forest while the rest of the Black Scripture lay slaughtered. She knew that if she spoke a word of this prophecy to her team, she would be among the dead.
Liriotte didn't care for the Scripture. They were people who had stolen her name and replaced it with a title, people who shared no bond with her. Clementine was the only one she might have called a friend.
"Astrologer, what is it?" the Captain asked, noticing her stand up.
She looked down and muttered a small excuse about "picking flowers" before slipping away. She knew exactly where to go—a withered tree near a stream she had identified on the march. She ran until she reached it, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
The ceremonial outfit provided by the Theocracy was far too revealing and embarrassing. She wrapped her self-purchased cloak tighter around her body and tapped on the withered trunk in a specific rhythm.
Please... let the prophecy be true, she prayed.
An answering rhythm tapped back from the other side. Liriotte's head snapped up.
"Hey, Liriotte. Long time no see."
"Clementine!"
Clementine was leaning against the tree, waving a hand casually. "You made it."
"Y-you're safe."
"Yeah, thanks to your prophecy, I managed to slip out of the Theocracy without a scratch." Clementine's expression turned serious. "Did you see where I was? Or who I was with?"
"I... I saw, but I kept quiet. I saw terrifying monsters surrounding the Scripture... and Lady Kaire dying."
"Good. Because if you had talked, I'd be dead, and so would you," Clementine said.
"If she hasn't told the Scripture, we can take her in, right?" a new voice asked.
"Of course!" another replied.
"The order was to recruit anyone useful, after all."
Liriotte let out a muffled shriek as an egg-headed figure in a military uniform appeared from thin air, followed by a tall, elegant demon. She began to tremble. These were the exact monsters from her vision—the ones who had slaughtered her teammates without effort.
"Now, now, don't be so frightened," the egg-head said. "You make it look like we're bullies."
Liriotte scrambled behind Clementine. "Master, she's just a librarian. She was forced into the Scripture. She's naturally timid."
Clementine's explanation seemed to satisfy the egg-head, but the demon stepped forward. "Tell me, human. Did you predict our presence and speak of it to your kin?"
Liriotte shook her head so violently her neck made an audible crack.
"Very well," the demon said. "Clementine, take her back to the Tomb."
"I've given you the scroll, right?" the egg-head added. "We'll handle the rest. The annihilation of the Black Scripture begins now."
"Got it. Come on, Liriotte."
Clementine activated the scroll, opening a black void in the air. She reached out her hand. Liriotte didn't hesitate. She had already decided to betray her country to stay alive. She grabbed Clementine's hand and stepped into the darkness.
***
Once the girls had vanished, Shalltear emerged from the shadows, looking annoyed. "Why was I forbidden from showing my face?"
Pandora's Actor cleared his throat. "To maintain an air of overwhelming pressure, my dear. It wasn't about excluding you."
Demiurge nodded in agreement. Shalltear didn't look convinced, but she accepted it.
"Shall we?" Demiurge asked. "Time to break the Black Scripture."
"Indeed. Those who dare turn their blades toward Lord Ainz and Master Kawasaki have no right to exist."
"I've been looking forward to a good slaughter," Shalltear giggled.
The three vanished into the night with the casual air of people going for a stroll. That day, the Slane Theocracy's strongest unit simply ceased to exist.
***
Back in the kitchen of the Ninth Floor, Kawasaki was hard at work. It had been a day since he'd recruited Brain Unglaus near E-Rantel, and Momonga had just informed him that the Black Scripture had been captured. This marked the first time the Guardians had engaged in a mass killing of humans since their arrival.
I guess I'm not much different, Kawasaki thought. He had led a raid on the "Death-Spreading Sword Band" the night before. Those men were now in the hands of the law, which likely meant execution.
"Master Kawasaki? Is something wrong?"
"Just thinking, Shiho. I'm fine."
He checked the pot, relieved that his lapse in concentration hadn't caused the onions to burn. His mind felt more human than Momonga's, which was both a strength and a weakness. He began sautéing chopped onions, carrots, and diced chicken.
"To go to such lengths for a human..." Shiho murmured.
"She was forced into that life," Kawasaki replied. "I want to give her a warm welcome. Liriotte... she's just a librarian who can see the future. She's a friend of Clementine's. I imagine she hasn't had a moment's peace in years."
Shiho muttered something under her breath about more humans entering the Tomb, but Kawasaki ignored her as he added butter to the pan.
"Once the onions are soft, sprinkle the flour over everything and stir fast. If you're slow, it'll clump."
He was teaching Shiho his special cream stew technique. Making a roux from scratch required precision. "Keep the spatula moving. Once the floury smell is gone, pour the milk in a little at a time. It scorches easily, so scrape the bottom of the pot."
"Once it thickens, add the chicken bouillon, the rest of the milk, and the corn. Simmer it on low."
He tasted a spoonful from a small dish. It was a rich, heavy stew with a deep chicken flavor—perfect for a main meal.
"It's delicious," Shiho noted after her own taste test.
"Good. I'm heading to the meeting with Liriotte. Shiho, I'm planning on making a complex dessert later. I'm a bit rusty on the pastry side, so I'll need your help."
Shiho's eyes sparkled. "As you command! I am at your disposal!"
Kawasaki watched her leave, missing the silent victory pose she struck the moment she cleared the door.
***
In his study, Momonga leaned back in his chair. The meeting with the Prophet girl was over. She had nearly fainted when she saw his Overlord form, convinced he was the God of Death, Surshana.
"What do you intend to do with her?" Albedo asked.
"She is a strategic asset. We keep her. As for the Black Scripture, keep them in the Frozen Prison. I've already stripped their gear while they were unconscious. We'll decide their fate later."
Momonga reflected on the "Innate Talents." He had underestimated them. A near 100% prophecy rate under specific conditions was more dangerous than a World Item in the wrong hands.
"And the man Kawasaki brought back? Brain Unglaus?"
"Kawasaki wants to handle him. A man that obsessed with strength can be motivated easily. I'll leave it to his judgment."
Cocytus had told him that humanized Kawasaki was terrifyingly strong. While his raw stats were lower than Sebas's, his "snap" and technical precision were superior. It made Momonga wonder what kind of life his friend had led back in the Arcology.
"For now, focus on the Lizardman village and the leveling experiments," Momonga commanded. "We need data on how levels and skills work in this world."
"As you command," Albedo said, bowing before leaving.
Momonga let out a long sigh. He felt the phantom presence of the Eight-Edge Assassins in the ceiling, but he still felt his "salaryman" persona trying to leak out.
The more I learn, the more I worry, he thought. The Black Scripture was handled, but the world was full of unknown threats. He needed to talk to Kawasaki—properly. He couldn't manage this world alone.
***
Liriotte sat in a chair, wearing a maid uniform Kawasaki had provided. It was a thousand times better than the "lingerie" the Theocracy had made her wear.
"Eat up," Kawasaki said, placing a bowl of white stew in front of her. "You look like you're about to collapse."
"Is this... stew?" Clementine asked.
"Yep. Not a fan?"
"No, I like it! I'm just surprised you made something so... normal."
"Momonga's calling me, so I have to run," Kawasaki said, waving them off. "The pot is on the stove if you want seconds."
Once he was gone, Liriotte turned to Clementine. "He's a 'Player,' right? Like the Gods in the stories?"
"Yeah. Lord Ainz too."
"And you just... talk to them like that? So casually?"
"If the Guardians are around? No way," Clementine whispered. "Their killing intent would stop my heart. But Kawasaki hates the formal stuff. He gets annoyed if I use honorifics."
"That's... intense in its own way," Liriotte noted. She took a sip of the stew and her face transformed. "Oh... it's so warm. It feels like home, but... better."
"Right?" Clementine agreed, digging in. "The stuff in the Theocracy was always watery and smelled like old milk. This is smooth. You can taste the vegetables and the meat in every bite."
Liriotte looked at her friend. "Clementine... have you... gained weight?"
"No comment!" Clementine snapped, blushing. She really needed to start training again.
They ate in silence for a while, enjoying the creamy texture and the sweetness of the corn.
"The chicken is so tender," Liriotte whispered.
"He says it's because they raise them specifically for meat here," Clementine explained. "The birds we knew were old and stringy. These are young and fatty."
Liriotte realized just how lucky she was. If her prophecy hadn't led her here, she would be a prisoner or a corpse by now. She looked at the door Kawasaki had exited through.
"He saved me," she whispered.
"He did," Clementine smiled. "So don't go making him regret it, okay?"
The two friends shared a laugh, the fear of the Slane Theocracy finally beginning to fade behind the warmth of a good meal.
Next — Menu 18: Bar Nazarick
***
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