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🕑 Added 2022-12-19 11:26:58 +0000 UTCAinz turned slowly toward the source of the voice. There in the dark, an undead dressed in an ornate armor loomed. While he was able to sense his presence with his passive skills, it still doesn’t mean that his sudden appearance didn’t make Ainz’s nonexistent heart skip a beat. Well, judging by his presence here and how he looked, this must be the Old Man of the Mountain both Medb and Semiramis were talking about. Looking closely at the creature, Ainz could understand where the comparison and case of mistaken identity had come from.
‘Well, at least I can see parallels between him and myself in appearance… But only that – I still don't see anything else that would make Medb compare the two of us. If he starts speaking German, I’m going to flip!’
The speaker, who introduced himself as Death, looked like Ainz if he had been a Physical Attack build… Ainz had to admit that the armor he’s wearing looked really cool.
Momonga's vision, thanks to his ability, had no trouble seeing in the dark, allowing him to make out the figure of the Servant. The man wore armor that seems to be made from melded black pieces of metal with blue-purple streaks, with spikes jutting out that accentuates the armor even when hidden behind the ragged black cloak. Furthermore, the man’s physique, which was not particularly inferior to Hercules and Ainz, was less intimidating than the half-skull missing a lower jaw that is his head adorned with two horns that jutted upwards.
And in that skull, blazed two blue flares of fire, contrasting Ainz’s red ones.
A note of interest however was the weapon the Old man of the Mountain wields. It is a massive guardless blade, though perhaps it was too massive to be called a mere sword. With its chips and chipped edge, it looked more like a blunt saw – massive, thick, heavy and far too rough to be called a sword. It was more a hunk of iron.
Ainz wondered if that was by design, or if the Old Man of the Mountain, being seemingly alone in this fortress, lacked the proper smith to repair his weapons.
The shield he wields off-hand made much more sense in Ainz’s mind, though no less confusing. It was a huge shield, large enough even to cover most of the Assassin’s massive body. What was confusing however were the decorations on the shield. In front, right, and center was a huge skull embossment with one glowing blue eye – and on top, is another set of spikes.
It was very eye-catching – which is supposed to be anathema to an Assassin!
‘An Assassin is supposed to be the master of hit-and-run tactics, remaining mostly in stealth until the best chance to strike their enemies. What kind of Assassin wields a huge sword and a tower shield!?’
Is this supposed to be the ‘legendary assassin’ that Semiramis seemed to be very afraid of?
Is he some kind of subspecies of an Assassin? Maybe more like a stealth warrior or even an ‘invisible tank’? There are some bosses or mobs with that kind of unique build in the past – but never actually from other Players – the limitation of Level Caps preventing them from being an effective build.
A limit that the Developers lack – they prefer less the ‘effectiveness’ school of thinking in their MOB creation, preferring to make very ‘impressive’ builds instead. As in, something that would kill the Players in very ‘impressive’ manners.
Ainz still remembered the ‘gray mouse’ debacle, when the Developers decided to ‘give’ a usually level 1 MOB, the stats, and skills of a level 100 Raid Boss, and with Virtual Intelligence to boot. Intelligence that allowed it to adapt to the Players’ tactics, making it exponentially harder to kill.
There were many salts and blood spewed by the Players when the reward for killing it was the paltry rewards that a level 1 Mob would give, the cherry to the shit cake.
But, while Ainz was content to be immersed in his own thoughts, not even paying much attention to an enemy that didn't seem to intend to attack him. Not that Ainz wasn’t ready to start fighting at any second – his red eye dots continued to glow, unmoving, all the while his mind wandered, something that made the direction of his gaze impossible to comprehend. Just as the blue flames in the eyes of the Old Man of the Mountain before him. It might even have seemed, to the casual observer, that the two of them were silently staring at each other. That is before the Old Man spoke first. “Thou stand on thou own border.”
Ainz instantly returned from his thoughts back to reality, but did not respond to the undead's words. Primarily because he did not understand what exactly he was talking about at the moment.
“No, I see…” The skeleton continued again, in a low, reverberating voice, reverberating as if from the walls of an empty armory, or perhaps from a mausoleum or an old crypt. "You stepped over the edge, and you reached its end… Before you returned.”
Ainz only continued to stare silently at his potential adversary at these words, not knowing how he should have reacted to these words or what they’re supposed to mean.
“And what do you want from the sword of the Lord, creature from across the border?” The Servant opposite Ainz moved his blade slowly, clearly showing that he was not afraid of a possible battle. But at the same time, by not pointing it directly at Ainz, he showed that while he was ready for battle – he still wished to do without.
Ainz silently continued to stare at his opponent, deep in thought. ‘Yeah, I have no idea what you’re talking about… I don't even have a reason to be here at all!’
Ainz waited a few seconds, checking to see if the Servant across from him was coming to some conclusion, before realizing that was the end of it and the Servant wouldn’t clarify himself. And well, he did ask a question, and so, Ainz answered with the only thing he could, and something that at least was true. “Nothing. I just wanted to see you in person.”
After answering, Ainz thought about it some more for a moment, before he caught another thought by the tail. He did have a reason for visiting this fortress! "And perhaps I would like you to… Not to interfere with my businesses in the battles of this Singularity. I'm not asking you to help me solve the current crisis, but I wouldn't want to fight over a misunderstanding if you attacked my Servants… Or Semiramis, I suppose she's necessary at this point, becoming something of an ally of mine.”
“Don't tell Death whose path has come to an end and whose path has not… " The Servant answered instantly, perhaps even somewhat angered by Ainz's words, before letting his voice fade momentarily and, as if coming to some conclusion. "The evening bells ring for those who do not appear at their time, you cannot stop their ringing nor the step of death… But if you wish to stand in its path – I can only grant you a single treaty, for Death will gather its harvest, with you, or against you.”
‘Ugh, why does he speak in such a chuuni way! Yes, he’s exactly my version of this world according to Medb… at least there’s no whiff of German yet.’ Ainz almost raised his hand to scratch his head before suppressing that impulse by looking at his opponent and trying to parse his words.
‘He said something about a treaty, though? That would be nice, I'd be glad if it ended in a regular treaty like sane people have!’
“I'm willing to hear you out.” But of course Ainz didn't agree right away, not knowing the terms of the treaty. The last time around he did such a thing, he had agreed to look quickly at the Singularity of this world and was still unable to deal with the consequences of his earlier decision.
“I will withdraw from the territories of the obnoxious queen, and will not take the heads of those who remain standing beside you. Furthermore, I will give you the opportunity to see the face of Death, as it leaves this edge.” Slowly, word by word, accentuating each word, the Servant pronounced his offer slowly.
“But I will collect the heads of everyone who remains after you. But, should you stray from your path – I will ring the evening bell for you. And even your existence, that stands beyond the edge, will find no escape from this nameless blade of God. This is my first, last, and only offering. Make your peace with it, or stay and know how great is my devotion to His teachings. You are not omnipotent, o creature from beyond the brink – a true Assassin will find a way even to the Nuclear Chaos. Remember this, Daemonic Sultan and Blind Idiot God.”
‘Why am I an Idiot God?! Are you trying to provoke me into a fight right now?!’ His suppression of emotion stopped the indignation rising in Ainz's soul.
‘If not the experience of Scáthach constantly trying to piss me off, that would have almost provoked me – I still don't want you to add to that headache. I might not know your powers, and I haven't faced you in battle, and you beat Semiramis no problem, so I wouldn't want to know what you would think if you decided to combine powers with Scáthach… Umu, okay, maybe having a cooler head is much better here – though is it too much to ask for him to speak plainly!?’
Without showing any of his inner thoughts, Ainz only nodded briefly at the Servant’s words before turning away, feeling mildly satisfied that he had so rudely turned away, leaving the negotiations without implicit agreement or denial. Well, the Servant had said that Ainz could leave and nothing about asking for an answer – so it was all his fault!
A moment later, some kind of portal appeared on Ainz’s path, the other side of the portal showing the slowly rising morning sun. Clearly, Ainz’s actions wasn’t something that insulted the Servant, and Ainz exited the dark space without thinking exactly about where he’s heading, thinking of what happened lightly. Something that the Assassins said in the end pinged his memories.
‘Daemonic Sultan, Nuclear Chaos… I heard those terms somewhere before – but I can't remember where… Ah well, if I can't remember exactly what this Servant is saying, it’s not likely to be anything important.’
***
Semiramis watched intently as Ainz disappeared inside the gates of Alamut, keeping her eyes on his figure before shifting her gaze to the human body beside her. "I should have guessed this answer sooner."
Not that using other people's bodies or altering one's own appearance is some rare gift – most gods, many heroes, and just as many monsters possessed similar abilities. It certainly cost Semiramis to discover that the unknown magus possessed similar abilities, and the form he had been in all this time was not his real one. Indeed, in hindsight, Semiramis thought it's obvious – no human could have felt as vile and strange as Ainz had felt in her realm. Sadly, Semiramis only learned the truth too late, when he shed his mask of flesh and his presence became unbearably more powerful.
The sensation of being near Ainz alone made Semiramis heckles raise, forcing her body to relax from the great aura of danger Ainz emitted. Perhaps from knowing that even at her best prepared, she has no chance of countering Ainz. That realization does allow for a moment's thought to appear in her head – was she doing the right thing in going to destroy the survivor of the fight between Ainz and the Old Man from the Mountain?
The Old Man was not human – it was more correct to describe him as a ‘being’ or even as a force of nature. He’s on an entirely different level of power, quite possibly an entirely different cohort of existence than where the usual Servants were, even the strongest ones, something that he knew that Ozymandias was. And he couldn’t even compare to the Old Man of the Mountain.
The Assassin was cruel and cold, killing was merely an action for him, something to be done without any doubt or emotion – exactly what one would expect from the legendary Assassin.
The Old Man of the Mountain, the first Assassin, the true Hassan ibn Sabbah. Or rather that was what he was known as, as his name was lost in the sands of time, or erased by his own efforts and actions, until only the name that his disciples called him remained. The first and legendary Assassin is the one who created the very word ‘assassin’ – the punishing sword of the Lord.
Semiramis had heard many legends about him, but despite the fact that he was, relatively speaking, a very modern spirit, at least from Semiramis' perspective, whose history was rooted in antiquity, no one knew anything meaningful about the First Hassan. Even the Throne of Heroes had not supplied her with information about anything more than the very fact of his existence.
And even that was itself more like a legend than a concrete fact granted to Semiramis when she was summoned.
Semiramis was aware, rationally, somewhere in the back of her mind, that if the First Hassan had decided that it was time for Semiramis to die – she would already be dead.
And yet, the First Hassan was an ally of humanity – if speaking of the big picture, and not the specifics. Something that she couldn’t say about Ainz.
Hassan was an ally of humanity, while the unknown Ainz felt to Semiramis solely as a danger, an oddity, an irregularity in this world – and it was impossible for Semiramis to foresee his real plans and next move.
Then shouldn’t Semiramis then have set aside her differences with the First Hassan and intervened against Ainz – performing something that could be called her ‘duty’ to humanity? Not that Semiramis considered herself indebted to humanity, but she still preferred helping if she could prevent the destruction of humanity.
In general, at least – she can't really be a ruler of anything without Humanity around.
Semiramis' doubts did not last long, maybe a few minutes, but in time she did come to the decision to fight on humanity's side. That decision outweighed the alternative by only a fraction of a percent – it’s not like she was certain that Ainz would destroy mankind, and she does hate the First Hassan quite a bit.
That is, on the rationale that along with saving humanity, perhaps in the future some semblance of her self have a chance to return to her sovereign land of Assyria, taking the crown again.
But in spite of Semiramis’ perhaps selfish reasoning to fight for Humanity, her resolve was quite wasted when she saw no fight happening. On the contrary, instead, Semiramis saw Alamut, Hassan's fortress… dissolve into thin air.
Semiramis blinked, thinking that her eyes were playing tricks on her. Perhaps to spite her even more, the fortress of Alamut continued to scatter like a mirage, its stone walls melting in the wind before her gaze.
Semiramis blinked once more before she heard a familiar voice, one that she perhaps was quite dreading. “You might consider that a success… I suppose.”
Turning around, she was not prepared to see the frightening visage of the great evil that it had almost overwhelmed her. It was Ainz, and she was not prepared to be in his full presence, something that should have been grateful that she was not in when he had discarded his false body. Sadly, it seemed that her luck had run out.
The creature, the undead of white polished bones, wrapped in a terrifying robe the color of noble purple and gold that radiated darkness, loomed over her. In whose empty eye sockets the insane fire from the depths of Hell blared, and on whose fingers rested nine rings that flickered like the legendary rings of Solomon – though Semiramis was absolutely certain that even Solomon could not have had the same effect on the surrounding reality with his presence.
Semiramis shifted her gaze to the fortress of Alamut, which had already half melted into the air, then back to Ainz, with a growing dread inside her. ‘The First Hassan has already lost?! So quickly!?’
“Oh, hmm, that is unusual, why is the fortress disappearing? But then again, on the other hand, it was probably even a good thing.” Ainz shifted his gaze to the melting fortress of Alamut, then shifted his gaze to Semiramis. “Semiramis, you could say that I have settled the matter with the First Hassan, he has agreed to leave the borders of your state… True, he has taken the fortress with him – but this territory is now completely yours.”
“Yeah," Semiramis felt her sanity breaking under the boot of harsh reality, realizing her foolishness, that she should have run to the help of the First Hassan no matter the grudge she has. Now, the great evil has free rein with no one standing in his way.
“Thank you.”
Not that it would change anything, she would just die.
***
Sita placed an arrow on her bow, whilst covering one eye in order to aim more accurately. The arrow in her hands shifted slightly on the bowstring, allowing Sita, while keeping her hands in check, to aim a little better.
The escaping Servant was a decent enough distance away. An Assassin, most likely, wrapped in their usual black cloak that is currently in disarray, exposing a face uncovered by the usual Assassin mask and her dark, almost black skin and long, pony-tailed hair, blue-purple in color. The figure dressed only in tight black pants and black bandages were leading the knight away, probably from some refugee or other. The girl was running as fast as she could, not to escape, she probably knew that she was on a suicide mission, but to give more time to whatever it is she’s saving. To give the chance that others could be saved for another day.
Sita could barely sense the Servant's power, and not because the Assassin was using Presence Concealment or a similar skill, but because she was weak. So weak that determining the very fact that it was a Servant and not another random person was only possible because Servants could identify other Servants with their innate senses, and only because she was running through the desert. Standing in a crowd of people, Sita would have had no way of identifying the Servant as an Assassin.
Perhaps very befitting for an Assassin, Sita could only imagine how stealthy she could be if she would actively use her Presence Concealment.
Behind her, quickly catching up with her, were the horsemen. Three dozen armored knights, clad in armor unsuited to the surrounding desert, whose faces were hidden behind high helmets, moving with a kind of deliberate calm, driving their horses with mechanical swiftness – from each of them Sita sensed magic. Not as much as Servants – excluding the Servants who stood out for weakness rather than strength, but still quite a bit.
Perhaps they were not humans but summoned creatures, golems, or maybe monsters in human form? In any case, they were not mere humans and more likely to be magical beings.
In the lead of the cohort of knights, was a Servant – a Servant who, with just a mere glance, Sita could sense that a one-on-one encounter with was nothing more than a suicide mission.
It was a short girl, though it was still difficult enough for Sita to see clearly at this distance, so perhaps it was a feminine man in a somewhat inappropriate attire. She was wearing a skirt, below her steel knight's armor, polished and glittering in the sun with a golden glare. In her hand there’s, one might even say, a disproportionately large spear, made entirely of metal with some kind of contraption – some kind of engines? — in the middle of it. Simultaneously showing both the ability of her weapon and its extreme impracticality, for anyone who is not a Servant.
The girl's figure even seemed an amusing picture in a way when compared along with her weapon of choice. The girl herself was short, making her legs dangle at the sides of the tall horse. With the short ruffled blond hair on the girl's head, marked by two black locks on the sides of her head, lying like dog ears, along with her large eyes – it gave the impression of a curious puppy.
However, the emotion on the girl's face negated any drop of this impression. The girl looked devastated and filled not even so much with pain as with fatigue and doom. The word curious puppy had long ago grown into a tired old street hound, just waiting for the next day to be her last.
And that look of weariness, pain, and frustration was directed at Sita. As if through all the miles separating them, the Servant saw Sita, and looked directly into her eyes… And that she knew exactly what would follow, and that she welcomed it. What had happened to crush the spirit of the knight so totally?
But, it doesn’t matter in the end.
“Haradhu Janaka.” Sita chose not to disappoint the waiting Servant – putting down a tired, sick, old dog, was nothing but a kindness.
***
Mashu glanced at Arthuria as she walked away, and was deep in thought. ‘I wonder where she's headed?’
‘Mashu, I can't believe I'm about to say this, but–.’ Galahad, her eternal companion as well as a possible manifestation of her sundered mind under the onslaught of stress, having given birth to a second personality to Mashu herself, spoke with some hesitation. ‘I think Arthuria is not in the mood for questions.’
Mashu blinked at these words, and then rolled her eyes slightly, frowning her eyebrows a little, as if hoping to look in that way into the eyes of the Servant who had settled in her mind. ‘What?’
‘Yeah, I know it might seem strange, considering we're talking about Arthuria here, her stoicness puts blocks of ice to shame – but I think she's upset, maybe a little angry, and maybe even confused.’
Mashu blinked before returning her gaze back to the figure of Arthuria, she reached her way past the Administrator's house, then suddenly stopped, as if she really didn't know where she was supposed to go at the moment. ‘Could she even feel those emotions?’
‘Apparently so.’ Galahad replied calmly. ‘Oh, here comes the reason for her confused state of mind.’
“Mashu? Where are you?” Bedivere's soft voice distracted Mashu from her contemplation of Arthuria’s strange behavior, causing her to turn toward the feminine man who seemed to be looking for her.
“Here”, Mashu replied simply, before casting another brief glance at Arthuria, then at Bedivere who was now walking her way. ”What happened to Arthuria?”
“I don't know.” Bedivere answered simply, before making his way closer to Mashu before stopping, shifting his gaze back to Arthuria. “But… If I could make a guess? Then it’s this whole situation. Camelot, the Knights of the Round Table, the Lion Goddess…”
Mashu shifted her gaze to Arthuria, seeing how she began to walk back and forth, almost in a circle, all the while unknowingly keeping Camelot in her sights. Like a strange moth attracted to the light, she was unable to ignore her desire to touch the burning flame on her own.
‘Yeah, I can't say I understand her, but who knows what I'd think if I were her or if I ran into something like Galahad Alter… Uh, if I had a body, of course.’ Galahad spoke before remembering an important detail.
Mashu, thinking about Galahad's words, was confused for a second before an all-important thought floated to the top of her mind. ‘Speaking of which, how exactly are you reacting to the current situation? After all, you too are a Knight of the Round Table, a Knight of Camelot…’
‘Nothing special really?’ Galahad replied calmly. ‘At least I think so – I can't say that the possibility of fighting Camelot or my old friends and acquaintances doesn't evoke any feelings in me at all. But in my current predicament, I don't demand more from the world than I'm entitled to from it. Yes, I have the chance to visit Camelot, and maybe some old acquaintances – so now what? I can't just get out of your head, and asking you to serve as my interpreter would only make you and me and my acquaintances and friends even more uncomfortable. Besides, it's unnecessary personal drama, so I'm just trying to treat things as I always do – by interacting with them simply as Servants, as usual. Though if we meet that bastard… I'll bash his head in!’
The unexpected ending was uttered with such loudness and force after Galahad's calm and even slightly sad reasoning, Mashu was forced to momentarily shake her head, as if someone had struck a huge gong inside her mind. ‘Ouch! What was that about?!’
Galahad didn't immediately respond to Mashu's question, remaining silent for a few seconds before slowly exhaling. As if he could even make that sound without having lungs, or every other organ and body part, before slowly answering. Though not with what Mashu wanted. ‘I don't want to talk about it…’
‘Well, no, you just screamed inside my head – at least I have a right to know why you did it!’ Mashu reasonably resented Galahad's words.
‘Um… It’s a family thing?’ Galahad tried to brush aside Mashu's words, something that he should have known to be futile. The essence of dodging answering something, is by avoiding the person that you’re avoiding answering in the first place – so where would Galahad hide when he’s stuck inside Mashu’s head?
Furthermore, with a skill borne of experience, gradually learning the tricks and specifics of communication with Galahad, Mashu could project her feelings straight into Galahad, allowing her to express non-verbal expressions. Which in this case was – glaring.
And, considering that Mashu managed to sense Galahad's uncomfortable shifting, Mashu could congratulate herself on a fair victory – especially when Galahad did respond reluctantly. ‘Lancelot. If my father gets in the way – pardon me, Mashu, but I will take over your body, and break his head with my shield.’
‘Can you?’ Mashu was a little surprised as some very pertinent information was just blurted out by Galahad.
‘The shield isn't the best weapon, but it's enough for one old bastard with zero parenting skills.’ Galahad only snorted back.
‘No, I mean the 'taking over my body’ part. I don't remember you telling me about this ability before…’ Mashu said slowly, continuing to glare at Galahad with a mental stare.
‘Um, I just didn't happen to mention it, did I?’ Galahad tried to slip out of Mashu's clutches, but being completely trapped in her head, he had very few avenues of escape.
‘GALAHAD!’ Mashu roared internally so loudly that her insides rang again, and with a kind of vindictive pleasure she got an almost pathetic response from Galahad.
‘Mashu, not so loud! Yes, I can take control of your body… Or rather, I can try, I just didn’t say anything because it never came up – and I would only ever use it if you’re in grave danger. Well there’s that time with Solomon, but there was nothing I could do myself then, and… Well, I kept it as a secret since I don’t really see a point in telling – how silly it came out like that…’
‘But Lancelot is simply a very special case, and I'm sorry, but I'd do nothing less than kick that bastard's ass.’ Galahad metaphysically stomped his foot, causing Mashu to think for a moment before exhaling. ‘Okay, you are constantly in my head as it is – at least you deserve some chance to stretch your legs a bit… But no more unexpected revelations like that!’
‘Um, I'll try…?’ Galahad said slowly, then, when Mashu cast another suspicious glance at him, immediately tried to clarify his position.
‘Didn't I tell you about the Counter Guardians thing? I'll try not to do anything, but the situation changes every second – and anyway, there's Bedivere telling you something!’
Mashu, hearing Galahad's excuse, returned to reality for a moment, in order to see if he was being honest with her – and immediately noticing how Bedivere was pulling back into place the flaps of his white cloak. Something that he had held in place all this time without moving, a cloak that had covered half his body, before smiling warmly at Mashu.
“Thank you – you have no idea how much it meant to me… I wanted so much to tell someone about this, and I'm grateful that you were able to listen to me…”
“You're welcome!” Mashu replied reflexively, before throwing a cry of ‘help’ into the void, or more precisely to Galahad. ‘So, Galahad, what has he been saying all this time?’
‘No idea, I was talking to you!’ Galahad's answer didn't help Mashu at all, making her feel for a moment as if she'd missed some incredibly important dialogue.
It couldn’t be that important, right?
Comments
Kevin L
Mashu is following in Aniz’s footsteps in act as if they know what is going on around them when they don’t. 😅
Traci
The old man mistook Ainz as Azathoth. Plenty of misunderstandings
