The Dark Warrior (30 page)

Ainz always ended up swinging with causing damage in mind. That was sufficient enough when one sound hit would kill his opponent, but against a tougher one, he had to think about how the battle would play out.
A good lesson to learn…

“Okay, here I go!”

While he’d been admiring her, Clementine had once again taken the odd bent-over posture from before. In response, Ainz raised the great sword in his right hand. But this time he didn’t thrust out the left sword.

Seeing that, Clementine smiled and rushed forward. She was moving so fast, even Ainz’s dynamic visual acuity couldn’t make her out. If she hadn’t been coming in a straight line, he might have lost sight of her.

She flew at him like a sinister arrow, and in response, he carried out his planned attack. The great sword in his right hand swung and—

“Impenetrable Fortress!”

—bounced back against the same martial art from before. But he’d expected that. The previous time he had swung as hard as he could so the rebound had broken his stance. This time he didn’t use as much force.

The shock felt like hitting a hard wall, but he overcame it with the strength of his arm and then swung his left great sword. He was confident she couldn’t withstand two of his transcendent full-power blows.

But before he could connect, she used a different martial art. “Flow Acceleration!” It made something mind-boggling happen.

It was almost as if she had manipulated time. In this sluggish space where everything moved as if it had fallen into a highly viscous fluid, Ainz’s great sword moved at a snail’s pace.

Only Clementine maintained her speed in this quiet world; she easily evaded his counterattack and slipped right in front of him.

Perhaps it was in Ainz’s head. He was wearing rings against time manipulation and that hindered movement to prevent external forces from slowing him down—not that this couldn’t be something new…

It must have just been her sudden acceleration causing him to perceive things that way in his heightened battle mode. After all, he’d seen this martial art before, and it hadn’t affected him like this.

“Gaze—” It was a martial art Gazef Stronoff had used.

Before he could get the shout out, the stiletto stabbed at him. She’d aimed for the narrow slit in his helmet—his eyes.

Ainz shook his head away and avoided getting it stuck in the slit, but the sound of metal grating on his helmet was horrible. Before he could feel any relief at having dodged, he caught Clementine in the corner of his vision holding her stiletto back, as if she were coiled and ready to spring.

“Tch!”

Even taking into account their difference in strength, Clementine’s direct line of attack was faster than the arc of Ainz’s sword. This time she didn’t miss, and her sword stabbed into the slit of his helmet.

“Huh?”

“Guh!”

The puzzled question and flustered grunt occurred at the same time.

Pressing his helmet with the hand that held his sword, Ainz retreated quite a ways without countering.

Watching him from the corner of her eye as she looked curiously at the tip of her stiletto, she joked, “Better stop talking about handicaps—if ya don’t start fighting for real, you’re gonna die!” Ainz didn’t say anything, so she asked a question to clear up her doubt. “But how did ya not take any damage from that attack before? I thought for sure it’d be a pain parade!”

“Sheesh. I’ve learned…a lot during this fight—first about a new martial art, and then about how important it is to use your whole body for balance and not just swinging your weapon around.”

“Huh? Are you stupid? You figured this out now? Some warrior you are! Well, you’re gonna die now, anyway, so it doesn’t matter. But I did want you to answer my question… Was it a defensive martial art?”

Sensing her annoyance, Ainz smiled wryly under his helmet—about his qualifications as a warrior, she was right. “Ah, I really came underprepared. I apologize. But we’re running out of time. Let’s stop playing games.” Ignoring the confusion on Clementine’s face, he raised his voice. “Narberal Gamma! Show them the might of Nazarick!”

Ainz spun the hilts of his swords till their blades pointed down and thrust them into the ground. Putting his empty hands out in front of him, he beckoned her gently. “Now come at me like you’re ready to die.”

“…So it wasn’t a bluff, ’ey? You can actually use Fly. But how did you dodge that attack? I couldn’t see because I was behind the dragon…”

The voice directed at Narberal as she slowly descended back to earth was cautious. He couldn’t fathom why she hadn’t used Fly to run away. Especially having encountered two skeletal dragons, who wouldn’t pull out if they could?

“Hmph. You think you have a chance at winning? Against skeletal dragons with absolute magic resistance?”

“There are any number of ways for me to win, but first…” Narberal grabbed the shoulder of her robe and tore it away. “Rejoice, human scum, for you have received the honor of facing Narberal Gamma of the Pleiades, combat maids loyal to the absolute ruler of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, Supreme Being Lord Ainz Ooal Gown!”

All of her gear had transformed. She wore vambraces and greaves of silver, gold, and black metal, armor like a maid outfit from a manga, and instead of a helmet, a white lace headpiece. In her hands she gripped a staff of silver-coated gold.

The performance of custom items in
Yggdrasil
could be changed by changing their data-crystal makeup. Narberal’s robe had the quick-change crystal, so she could change her whole gear set without spending any time swapping pieces.

The robe was put “away” into space.

Khajit blinked several times at the maid who’d just appeared before his eyes. Then he finally grasped the situation—“What?!”—and shouted in disbelief.

Sure, it was perfectly normal for the caster in front of him to turn into a maid.

Her outfit was a joke and made him uncomfortable, but the exceedingly calm look on her face made him panic, and he ordered the skeletal dragons to attack. The two dragons approached Narberal with surprising agility. One of the huge bony monsters went to crush her with a foreleg, but when it was a hair’s breadth from whacking her, she cast a spell.

“Dimensional Move!”

“Not again!”

Narberal vanished once more.

Trying to see where she went, Khajit remembered last time and looked up in the sky. But this time he would learn where she’d gone via pain.

“Gyahh!” His shriek echoed across the graveyard. A white-hot sensation suddenly shot through his left shoulder and a dull pain radiated through his body with each beat of his heart. Stupefied, he looked at the spot and saw a sharp point jutting out.

The next second, the blade was ripped carelessly out, creating a new wave of acute pain. “Gah! Gyah!” The vibrations of his bone being sawed propagated through his body, combining with the pain to increase his discomfort. Blood glubbed out of the puncture, soaking his black robe. In so much agony he was drooling, he spun around to see what had happened.

Narberal was standing there with a puzzled look on her face. “Does it hurt
that
much?”

“Ngh!”

She was toying with a freshly bloodied black-bladed dagger in the hand that didn’t hold her staff.

Khajit was in so much agony he couldn’t even speak.

Because he was a caster, he was never out on the front lines, and he was waited on by so many people that although he had occasion to give pain, he was rarely on the receiving end. As a result, he had low tolerance.

As clammy sweat coated his forehead, inside his head, he gave orders to the skeletal dragons. Narberal leaped away—Fly was faster than running.

The dragons inserted themselves into the open space. Behind them, Khajit, who, having secured a safe location, had regained a shred of composure, finally understood the significance of Narberal’s previous spell.

It was—

“Teleportation magic?!”

Dimensional Move was a tier-three spell, but it was generally thought of as an escape spell used to quickly put distance between the caster and their opponent.

But that was in the case of a physically inferior caster. If one had strength that could put a warrior to shame, the spell could be just as valuable as an attack spell—no, since it was unblockable, it was actually
better
than lesser attack spells.

Holding his shoulder, he scowled at Narberal. “I see. So your ace move is teleporting in for the kill! And that’s also how you evaded that attack earlier!”

It was certainly a pesky ace. If magic didn’t work on the skeletal dragons, she could kill the summoner. An obvious strategy. And if she made effective use of teleportation magic, there was a good chance he wouldn’t be able to stop her.

But Narberal scoffed lightly in reply. “I don’t think so!”

Khajit’s eyelids fluttered for a moment as he failed to comprehend what she was saying.

Then, to clarify, she began to move. “I just demonstrated
one
way I
could
easily kill you!” Narberal had been at an overwhelming disadvantage, but the moment she seemed to reveal the way she would turn the tables, she renounced it instead.

Khajit had no idea why she would do that. “Are you insane…?”

“I get that you’re a flea, but what kind of reply is that? It’d be nice if you’d use your head a little more!”

Her frigid glare made his whole body tremble—not from anger but from fear. Anxiety flickered through his mind.

“Let’s end this soon. It’s rude of me as a follower of Lord Ainz to keep him waiting… You seem to think magic won’t work on skeletal dragons, so allow me to create a learning opportunity for you, pond skater. The lesson fee is your life.”

She dropped her staff, and the sound of her hands clapping together rang out. When she pulled them apart, white shocks arced between them. Reacting to the lightning writhing like Chinese dragons, the nearby air sparkled as it discharged. It was like she was enveloped in a white light.

“…Gah…” Khajit’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. He had no more words. He knew she was casting a spell far beyond anything he was aware of. Within the white light frying his eyes, he could see her faint smile. Recalling the huge skeletal dragons standing between them, the clamorous alarm bells in his head made him scream. “Y-you can’t defeat skeletal dragons with magic! They have absolute resistance! Go! Kill her!” he ordered in a trembling voice that betrayed the fear he couldn’t hide.

As the dragons approached, Narberal smiled like a cruel instructor who was about to educate a foolish pupil. “Absolute resistance? They
do
have resistance, but the power they have is to nullify spells from tier six and below.”

It took a little more time for the dragons to reach Narberal, during which Khajit realized, with an awfully level head, what she meant by that.

“In other words, I, Narberal Gamma, can use more powerful magic than that, so they won’t be able to nullify my attack!”

She wasn’t lying—Khajit’s gut told him that.

Which meant that this woman’s magic could slay the dragons and then kill him, too.

“Why?! You’re going to destroy the fruit of more than five years of labor in less than an hour?!” Khajit squawked. Scenes of his past flickered before his eyes like the shadows of a revolving lantern.

Khajit Dale Badantel.

Given life as the only child of a father with a robust physique forged by village labor and a gentle mother in a remote Slane Theocracy village, he had a “normal” childhood.

He started down the path from then to his current self when he found the remains of his mother.

That day—the sun had been low on the horizon—Khajit had been racing toward his house. His mother had told him to be home early, but he was late for some reason he couldn’t even remember anymore: He’d been on the outskirts of the village looking for cool rocks; he’d picked up a stick and pretended to be a hero—some stupid thing like that.

Thinking his mother would scold him, he’d flown into the house—and seen her sprawled on the floor. Shocked, he’d panicked, and even now he could remember the warmth he’d felt when he touched her.

You’ve got to be kidding me.
His expectations had been betrayed.

His mother was dead.

The clergyman said the cause of death was “a lump of blood that formed in her brain.” In other words, it was no one’s fault. No one was in the wrong. No, Khajit felt there was one and only one person to blame—himself.

If he had gotten home sooner that day, would he have been able to save her? There was a huge number of the Slane Theocracy’s faith-magic casters, including several in his village. If he had gone to them for help, would his mother still be alive and smiling?

The face of his precious mother twisted in pain…was a crime he had perpetrated.

Khajit made up his mind. He would live to right his wrong, i.e., to bring his mother back to life.

The more magic and knowledge he acquired, the bigger the obstacles he faced.

There was a resurrection spell on faith magic’s fifth tier, but he couldn’t bring his mother back with it. During the resurrection, the deceased consumed a vast amount of life force; if the body didn’t have enough, it would be impossible to resurrect and turn to ashes. His mother didn’t have the life force in her for that.

But he didn’t have enough time to develop a new resurrection spell. So, he would give up being human and turn undead to buy the time. That was the conclusion he came to.

He abandoned the faith-magic path he’d been walking and turned down the path of using magical magic and becoming an undead, but he was confronted with another wall.

It would take an extremely long time to plow ahead as a magical-magic caster, quit being human, and become a powerful undead. Then, there was also the hurdle of talent and ability—it was possible he wouldn’t be able to become an undead.

The breakthrough plan he conceived was to gather a vast amount of negative energy—yes, the amount that killing every person living in a city and turning them into an undead would generate.

Why, at the moment his desire would be realized, was there someone getting in his way?

“Why should you have the right to make my five years of preparation in this city, the feelings I can’t forget even though it’s been more than thirty years, all for nothing?! You just came out of
nowhere
!!!”

The response to Khajit’s howl was a sardonic smile. “I’m not interested in your feelings. But I do have something to say to you for all your laughable hard work…
You made a lovely stepping-stone for Lord Ainz.
Twin Max Chain Dragon Lightning!” Lightning writhing like a dragon shot out from each of Narberal’s hands.

The skeletal dragons’ giant white frames trembled when the lightning bolts, each thicker than a human’s arm, met them. The lightning that coiled like Chinese dragons around the skeletal dragons’ bodies burned up the false life that made the dead bones move.

The result was immediate.

The skeletal dragons, who were supposed to have absolute resistance to magic, were turned to rubble by magic lightning.

Even after they had completely crumbled, the lightning didn’t disappear. The two electric dragons raised their heads as if searching for their next prey and raced through the sky to their last remaining target.

Khajit’s entire field of vision filled with pure white electric light. There was no time to beg for mercy, no time to scream. The tears that welled up in the corners of his eyes vaporized in an instant, leaving nothing behind but a whisper: “Mother…” Khajit was devoured by the lightning.

His muscles went into convulsions, and his body writhed where he’d stood, as if he were doing a strange dance. After rapidly burning through his insides, the electricity vanished, and Khajit fell to the ground, smoking from his burns.

The stench of cooking flesh wafted throughout the area.

Narberal shrugged and called out to Khajit, whose body had curled up into a ball as his muscles burned up. “Even worms smell good grilled… Might make a nice souvenir for Entoma.” Dropping the name of her fellow Pleiades member who preyed on humans, Narberal sneered.

The warrior before her opened up his arms as if he were going to hug her.

“What’re ya doing? Ya give up?”

“No, what? I just figured that since I gave Narberal the order, I should probably settle this pretty soon as well.”

“Huh? Are you serious? How can you win against me with no martial arts or any decent skills? How much more annoying can you be?”

“You talk a lot of crap for a wimp.”

You’re the wimp!
she nearly raged but instead calmed her seething heart. The man before her had little skill as a warrior, but his physical ability easily exceeded the realm of ordinary humans. As far as she knew, it was surpassed by only two demigods: the Black Scripture’s extra seat and its captain, who occupied the first seat. But because of that, he swung his sword around however he felt like, which made both his offense and defense sloppy, which meant he was in danger of being dealt a fatal blow.

Clementine put on her usual sneer and taunted him. “…Welllll, I do agree that we should settle this.”

Momon the warrior merely shrugged in reply.

She coolly observed the way he carried himself. He was full of holes, but that couldn’t be true. It had to be a trap.

But she didn’t have a choice. What she’d said a moment ago had sounded like a joke, but she’d meant it. She figured she could escape if she could borrow a skeletal dragon, but she couldn’t afford to lose any more time. Even if it was to throw off the Flurry Scripture members who had come to the city, playtime was going a little long.

She slowly moved into a crouch and tightened her grip on her stiletto. She wanted this critical clash to be short—if possible, over in one hit. She didn’t have time, but the other thing was that the warrior seemed to be gradually getting the hang of things. It was safer to crush him before he grew into a monster she couldn’t handle.

With a sharp exhalation, Clementine charged. “Stride of Wind! Greater Evasion! Ability Boost! Greater Ability Boost!” She used the same four martial arts from before all at once to get her physical ability even a little closer to his. Regardless of how Momon had fought so far, there was still the possibility he could use martial arts.

In her accelerating world, she could see her opponent’s every move. He was going to take his swords out of the ground and attack. Or use a martial art, or hand-to-hand combat, or a hidden weapon—no, a throwing weapon. She could think of a zillion ways he could attack her, but she was confident she could prevail over any of them. Then he betrayed her expectations.

He’s not doing anything?!

The dark warrior just stood there, arms open, as if he was welcoming her attack.

A chill ran up Clementine’s spine—fear of the unknown; he was acting completely outside the scenarios she’d imagined.
Should I keep charging or retreat?
Those were her only two options.

Clementine was cold-blooded and cruel, but she wasn’t stupid. In the split second left, she calculated out countless possibilities and countermeasures. What gave her the push to continue was self-confidence and pride in her abilities.