Food crisis, government collapse, pollution overtaking, growing number of extinction of plants & wildlife, and more concerns that keep piling up as time passes by, the year 2138 is a living hell if not worse, to live in. But while some people gave in to grief, some fought and pushed through, despite all the complications that life throws their way, for example-

''Cancer...eeeeh?!''

A tall, imposing figure stands silently after his brief shock in the dark illuminated only by the blue coming from the screen before him, clad entirely in black. His trench coat, made of a sleek, impermeable material, drapes heavily to his ankles, its edges scuffed. The high collar of the coat is raised, shielding his neck and blending seamlessly with the rest of his attire.

A respirator mask covers the lower half of his face, its dark matte finish accented with subtle vents that emit soft, rhythmic breaths. Above the mask, a pair of mirrored goggles glint faintly in the dim light, their reflective surfaces hiding his eyes and protecting them from the irritants in the air.

Black leather gloves encase his hands, each fingertip reinforced for extra grip, while thick, rugged boots guard his feet against hazardous ground. Beneath the trench coat, he wears a layered suit of tightly fitted, protective fabric, designed to repel airborne toxins and filter particulate matter. A hood, sleek and streamlined, rests on his shoulders, ready to be pulled up in moments of acidic rain.

[Thank you for using our services! See you again soon, Mr. Suguru.]

The medical terminal's robotic, lifeless feminine voice echoed, cold and detached, only serving to deepen his already sour mood.

"Yeah, yeah, shut up." He clicked his tongue in annoyance, snatching the dispensed papers. Treatment details, an exorbitant price, his ID, and medical card—all of it stuffed into the bottomless depths of his ragged, dark brown side bag.

"$100,000 fucking dollars. What a joke."

The words hissed out under his breath as he stepped out of the desolate clinic, the automatic doors hissing shut behind him. Outside, the familiar stench of decay and smog filled the air, blending seamlessly with the perpetual gloom that stretched as far as the eye could see.

His footsteps carried him to a nearby bridge, where he leaned heavily on the rusted railing, his gaze falling to the bleak horizon. The sky was a choking shade of black, and the land below was a barren graveyard of cracked earth and skeletal remains of what might have once been forests or cities.

This was his world—a world of death and despair, the only one he'd ever known. A world he understood not through vivid sunsets or verdant fields, but through pixelated fragments of the past: ancient recordings his grandparents had preserved, or half-corrupted videos scavenged from the depths of the internet.

He took a long, shuddering breath, his hands clenching the railing until his knuckles turned white. As he exhaled, his head dropped to rest on his folded arms.

"Out of all the things I could get... not a parasite, or some failing organ... but fucking cancer."

The word felt bitter on his tongue, heavy and final. It shouldn't have surprised him, really—not in a place where pollution hung like an eternal fog, seeping into every breath. But it had caught him off guard. Not even twenty-two years old, and his body was already a ticking time bomb.

A pre-destined death sentence. How poetic.

bzzt bzzt

The faint vibration of his phone broke through the suffocating silence. He hesitated, his hand hovering over his bag. This late at night, there was only one person who'd bother to message him.

Pulling the device out, the screen confirmed his suspicion:

Suzuki (Dumbass): Yo Suguru, have you heard? Yggdrasil servers are shutting down tonight.

His chest tightened at the words. Yggdrasil—the revolutionary DMMO-RPG that had once been his escape from the grim reality of his life. It wasn't just a game; it was a second home. Together with his friends, they had built a legacy within its sprawling, magical world. For a time, it had been everything.

But like all things, it began to fade. One by one, the guild members drifted away—some bored, others burned out, one taken out in an in-game assassination, and a few swallowed whole by the cruel grind of real life. The guild that once boasted dozens of members had dwindled to just him and Suzuki, clinging to the memories of their golden days.

He tapped the screen, typing a response:

Me: What? No fucking way. I thought there was a multi-billion corpo behind it?

Suzuki (Dumbass): From what I heard, it's 'cause players were sharing info about rival arcologies and some "illegal content."

Illegal content? That sounded ominous.

Me: "Illegal content"? You mean like school textbooks or something? Damn, did we get targeted?

Suzuki (Dumbass): Nah, nothing mentioned about Ainz Ooal Gown. We should be fine... I hope.

Suguru felt a pang of relief, though it was fleeting. Ainz Ooal Gown had been more than a guild—it was their masterpiece.

Suzuki (Dumbass): Anyway, I was hoping you could hop on for the last hours of Yggdrasil. One final hurrah?

Suguru glanced at the clock. He should've been in bed half an hour ago, getting ready for tomorrow's morning shift at the factory. But none of that mattered anymore—not his job, not his routine, not the ticking clock of his illness. Yggdrasil was dying, and with it, the last vestige of a better time.

Me: ...Sure. See you in 15 minutes.

Suzuki (Dumbass): YES! I'll wait for you in the roundtable room.

Me: k.

He slid the phone back into his bag, the faint buzz of adrenaline pushing away his fatigue. For the first time in weeks, maybe months, he felt a flicker of purpose—a connection to something beyond the drudgery of his existence.

He gazed up at the post-apocalyptic aah landscape in silence, the distant hum of city traffic reaching his ears. Sirens wailed in the background, punctuated by the occasional gunshot—an uncommon sound in his part of the city, yet eerily fitting for the scene before him.

*drip* *drip* *hiss* *drip*

A sharp pain flared on his wrist, snapping him back to reality. His sleeve had slipped, exposing his skin to the acidic rain. A single droplet left a small, stinging red mark where it hit. Hastily pocketing his phone, he darted back toward his apartment, eager to escape the worsening rain before it could further ruin his clothes. These were his casual less durable clothes for a rain like this, after all—not his scavenger outfit. (What else could you expect in 2138, when minimum-wage jobs barely paid enough to scrape by?)

"Please... help me..."

The faint, desperate plea reached his ears as he strode down the cracked, uneven sidewalk. He barely glanced at the source—a young homeless woman sprawled in the corner of a dilapidated building. Her frail body was swaddled in blood-soaked, rotting bandages, her skin mottled with grime and lesions from the toxic rain.

The acidic drizzle hissed against her exposed flesh, washing away dirt along with layers of skin, leaving behind angry red welts. Her voice was barely a whisper, a dying ember of a soul clinging to life in a world that had long stopped caring.

But neither did he.

Suguru kept walking, his expression hardened. Why should he stop? He didn't know her. And even if he did, what could he possibly offer? His own resources were pitiful, just barely enough to keep himself alive. To spare even a fraction would be suicide.

As cold as it felt, it was simply reality. In this world, mercy was a luxury, one that only fools could afford. The weak perished, the strong endured—that was the unspoken rule of their existence.

He quickened his pace, his boots splashing through shallow puddles of acidic water. Every step carried him closer to the crumbling apartment block he called home. He scanned the dimly lit surroundings, his eyes darting to every shadow, every corner.

This wasn't just a habit—it was survival.

By the time he reached the front of the building, Suguru had already begun rehearsing the access codes in his mind. He could recite them in his sleep, but fumbling even for a moment was a risk he wasn't willing to take. Time spent lingering at the door could mean everything. Gangs prowled the streets, and they weren't picky about their targets.

The thought of losing everything—including his gaming system, his one refuge from this decaying reality—was unbearable.

With a practiced motion, he reached the rusted panel beside the door, his fingers punching in the code without hesitation. As the lock clicked open, he glanced over his shoulder one last time.

The woman was still there, her faint outline blurred by the curtain of acidic rain. Her outstretched hand trembled for a moment before falling limp against the ground.

Suguru turned away and stepped inside.

Click.

The heavy sound of the lock sliding into place echoed off the walls. Suguru leaned his weight against the door for a moment, exhaling a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The moment of reprieve was brief. Survival wasn't just about staying alive—it was about staying functional.

Wasting no time, he launched into his evening routine with mechanical precision. His bag landed haphazardly on the nearest chair with a dull thud. The protective gear he wore all day was stripped off and tossed into a corner, replaced with a pair of cozy pajamas that smelled faintly of detergent.

Next came the Digi-radio. A flick of a button and the low hum of Mitsky-Mixtape filled the tiny apartment, its familiar melodies cutting through the oppressive silence. Suguru preferred having noise in the background, even if it was just synthetic nostalgia. It drowned out the constant hum of decay that seemed to seep through the walls of this dying city.

He moved to the kitchenette, his stomach growling as he pulled a packet of artificial chicken nuggies from the tiny fridge. The glossy, shrink-wrapped packaging with flamboyant design promised a flavor "indistinguishable from the real thing." Suguru knew it was a lie. But compared to the tasteless, protein-block rations the company provided, this was a five-star culinary experience. The microwave beeped to life as he set the nuggets to heat, its dull hum joining the radio's melody. He leaned back against the counter, running a hand through his unkempt medium-length hair.

Life had turned into this strange dichotomy of harsh survival and small comforts. The nuggets, the music, the faint warmth of his pajamas—they were reminders of a world that used to be, a world where life was something more than just enduring until tomorrow.

As the microwave dinged, Suguru grabbed his plate and made his way to his desk.

'I should clean up later...'

The thought crossed his mind as he glanced at the chaotic state of his working and gaming space. A clutter of papers, manga, a framed photo of himself with a girl—two black textile stripes hanging off the frame—and an assortment of figures and collectibles covered the desk. It was a mess he constantly put off dealing with.

Ignoring the disaster, he cleared just enough space to set down his plate, popping two nuggets into his mouth as he powered up his "gaming system." Calling it the "Neural Nano-Interface" felt far too pretentious.

The VR helmet seemed fine, as did his neural port, but he gave it a quick clean with pressurized air just to be sure. Next, he took a small dose of cerebral nanomachines straight to the vein before settling into his jet-black, high-class chair, complete with a footrest. It was an incredibly comfortable—yet undeniably expensive—luxury he'd managed to afford through hard work and sacrificing apartment space.

His home was now just a single large room, partitioned into smaller sections: the kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, and, most importantly, his gaming area.

After plugging himself in, the system loaded for several seconds before bringing him to the main lobby of his supercomputer. His wallpaper instantly came into view: an explicit commissioned artwork featuring the Elf Serie, her bare buttocks dominating more than half the screen as she glanced back with a suggestive expression.

He felt no shame about it, after all, he was (hopefully) the only person who would ever see it.

''Man, the things i would do just to cop a feel of that...''

Humming to himself with a hint of sadness, he skimmed through the apps—Vapor, OverTrash 7, several "Homework" folders, Bort VPN... Ah, there it was—Yggdrasil. But of course, it needed an update. Damn, had he really been gone that long? A 2.67T update? Smaller than usual, but no surprise considering it was shutting down tonight.

As Yggdrasil began updating, a message popped up in the corner of the screen. To his surprise, it wasn't Suzuki, but another guild member he hadn't heard from in ages—Takahiro Ishida, also known by his in-game username, HeroHero.

"Hey Lucian, Momon told me you'll join in shortly to witness the shutdown with him. I'm sorry I couldn't be there to stay with you both in-game one last time before the plug gets pulled, but I'm really tired and have a morning shift tomorrow. I hope you'll find it in your heart to forgive this old man. See you later."

With that, the message ended, and Takahiro was offline. Shinji felt a pang of sadness at missing the chance to see his guildmate one last time, but he reminded himself there would be others to say farewell with him and Momon.

The glowing text [Welcome to YGGDRASIL] sent a wave of nostalgia crashing through Suguru. It was a memory made tangible, a relic of a better, simpler time when he had an escape from the nightmare of the real world. He hadn't logged in for years, and yet, it felt like he had never left.

A soft click resounded as he selected [Login].

The character selection screen appeared, and with it, a carousel of avatars he had poured countless hours into. Names and faces of alts scrolled by, but none of them mattered. His eyes immediately locked onto the crown jewel of his account: Lucian Deus Bellator.

[Lucian Deus Bellator]

Level: 100Race: AngelPlaytime: 36,422:52:28

The sight was enough to send a pang of pride through him. He'd worked so hard to perfect this character, tweaking every detail, crafting every piece of equipment, grinding through the endless dungeons and PvP arenas to forge Lucian into the ultimate powerhouse.

His hand hovered over [Play] for a moment, his thoughts drifting. Thirty-six thousand hours... That was years of his life poured into this world. But in those hours, he had felt alive, powerful, untouchable—a far cry from the powerless husk he had become in the real world.

His gaze briefly flicked to the [Delete Save] button, but he quickly dismissed the thought. No, not tonight. If this truly was the end of Yggdrasil, Lucian would go out in glory, not be erased by his own hand.

With a deep breath, he selected [Play].

The screen faded to black, and the familiar hum of the game's loading sequence resonated through the headset speakers. His anticipation grew as the world he had left behind slowly came back to life.

For a brief moment, his vision was consumed by darkness before the familiar pure black marble walls of his private chambers in Nazarick came into view. He quickly opened his inventory, scrolling through the items to jog his memory. Vanity loadouts, potions, weapons—it was all still there.

Looking over his extensive collection, he couldn't help but feel a little baffled at just how much value he had amassed over the years.

[22:00:31]

Still two hours left—hopefully, Suzuki hadn't been waiting too long. Before using the [Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown] to teleport to the round-table room, Lucian's gaze fell on his NPC idly lounging on the bed.

This was Serie, an Elder Elven mage inspired by his favorite character from Sousou no Frieren. He couldn't help but feel a swell of pride whenever he looked at her—she was a near-perfect replica of the original. Well, almost perfect. There was one small detail he couldn't resist tweaking... he might have pushed the bottom slider a little further than strictly necessary.

"Serie, follow me."

The shortstack Elf hopped off the bed and joined Lucian's party, trailing closely behind him. With a flick of the [Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown], both Lucian and Serie were teleported to the meeting room.

"Lucian, I'm overjoyed to see you logged in again! Man, it's been so long since I last saw your avatar," The Elder Lich greeted warmly with a happy emoticon popping above him.

Lucian glanced around the room, his gaze falling on the empty 40 seats surrounding the iconic round table. The sight struck him, but he pushed the thought aside and seated himself one spot away from Momonga. Serie, ever dutiful, claimed the seat between them.

"Yeah... great to be back," Lucian replied, his tone tinged with unease.

"Um... where is everyone else?"

"...We're all that's left of Ainz Ooal Gown, Lucian," Momonga admitted softly.

"Damn..." Lucian muttered, leaning back in his chair. "Sorry to hear that. It must be pretty... demoralizing, seeing the guild like this in its final hours."

"It is frustrating," Momonga confessed, his voice laced with bitterness. "All these years... did any of it mean anything to them? Well, whatever. At least HeroHero showed up for a bit, and now you're here. I'm glad you made time for this."

"I would have come even if you hadn't messaged me," Lucian assured him.

"Oh?"

"This guild was a huge part of my life. I wasted way too much time here—too many memories to count. If I'd known this day was coming sooner, I wouldn't have left back then..."

Momonga remained silent, listening intently to his friend's wistful reminiscing. Lucian's words stirred something in him—a wave of nostalgia that pulled him back to his own earliest memories in Yggdrasil. He recalled the awe of his first login, the fateful day he met Touch Me as a low-level undead, his first triumphant PvP victories, and, most recently, his ascension to Guild Master of [Ainz Ooal Gown].

[22:31:14]

"Shit, sorry for rambling. I should've paid more attention," Lucian muttered, snapping out of his nostalgic daze.

Momonga quickly waved him off. "No, no, it's fine. If anything, I missed your ramblings about every little matter. It always put me at ease."

"I see... thank you," Lucian replied with a faint smile.

"We still have one more hour to go," Momonga continued. "Shall we tour the Great Tomb of Nazarick one last time?"

"Like you even need to ask," Lucian said with a smirk.

Momonga nodded, equipping the Guild Staff, which had been hanging on the wall moments ago.

"The [Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown]," Lucian murmured, eyeing the artifact. "I never imagined the day it would actually be equipped again."

"It would've been a shame to leave our treasured guild weapon behind," Momonga said solemnly.

The two began their walk through the Great Tomb, taking in every detail of its construction. They admired the effort, gold, and countless hours that went into building this massive, awe-inspiring complex. It was bittersweet knowing no one had ever made it past the fifth floor to truly witness the greatness of Nazarick.

Just before reaching the Throne Room, Momonga gathered some of the NPCs stationed nearby, including Sebas and the Pleiades.

[23:50:33]

"Stand by," Momonga commanded. The NPCs obediently stepped aside, aligning themselves in a single, orderly row.

"What a sight..." Lucian muttered, his voice tinged with a bittersweet sadness. "I'm really going to miss this."

"Yeah... me too," Momonga replied softly. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something unusual.

As they seated themselves on their thrones, Momonga's gaze fell on the Overseer, Albedo, The highest-ranking NPC in all of Nazarick. Intrigued, he opened her settings, scanning through the overly detailed character background Tabula had created.

"Leave it to Tabula-san to overdo NPC lore," Momonga sighed, scrolling through the extensive entries. He barely noticed Lucian peering over his shoulder.

"On the outside, she's a perfect beauty," Momonga read aloud. "Oh, and on the inside, she's a... bitch? Huh? A bitch? Ahh, Tabula-san, why? I can't leave it like this."

Using the authority of the [Saff of Ainz Ooal Gown], Momonga unlocked and began editing Albedo's settings. His hand hovered over the keyboard as he pondered what to add.

"She's deeply in love with—"

"ME!" Lucian interrupted, shoving Momonga off his throne.

Momonga stumbled down the steps, taking 50- fall damage in the process. "Lucian! What the hell?!"

Ignoring the guild leader's protests, Lucian took over and typed, "She's deeply in love with Lucian Deus Bellator."

"LUCIAN! WHAT THE HELL, MAN!"

Unfazed by Momonga's shouts, Lucian scrolled further into Albedo's settings, stopping at the body proportion sliders. Naturally, he maxed out the hips, thighs, and ass sliders, watching with satisfaction as Albedo's figure expanded to suit his tastes.

"Sorry, Momonga, but I just like her more," Lucian said smugly.

"Wh- That's not fair! I'm the Guild Master!"

"Nuh-uh. You snooze, you lose."

"Wh- That doesn't even make any sense! You threw me off the throne!"

[23:57:32]

"Whatever, do what you want," Momonga muttered sighing, slumping back onto his throne. He dismissed Albedo's settings and resigned himself to watching as she gracefully approached Lucian's side. Her newly enhanced proportions looked slightly out of place on her otherwise slender frame, but Momonga decided to ignore it.

Instead, he focused on the final moments of Yggdrasil's servers, letting the nostalgia of a bygone era wash over him.

Lucian gently took Albedo's and Serie's hands in his. Though he couldn't feel their touch, he imagined their skin to be as soft as silk. To most, they were just NPCs—mere lines of code—but to him, they were as significant and cherished as any living person.

[23:59:20]

Glancing over at Momonga, Lucian saw his old friend silently pointing to the red banners hanging high on the walls, each representing a member of the [Ainz Ooal Gown]. Momonga murmured their names one by one, a somber nostalgia in his tone.

"Bow down," Lucian commanded the NPCs. They immediately obeyed, dropping to their knees in a gesture of reverence. It felt fitting—a final act of respect to their creators, who would soon depart this world forever.

[23:59:50]

'Hm, once the servers shut down, I should tell Suzuki about my condition... I can't leave him in the dark. He'd find out eventually, one way or another.'

[23:59:58]

[23:59:59]

There it was. Goodbye, Yggdrasil.

[00:00:00]

[00:00:01]

[00:00:02]

[00:00:03]

...Wait.

Lucian opened his eyes, blinking rapidly. Something was... off. He was still in Nazarick's Throne Room, but the graphics were far too detailed, almost disturbingly realistic. Not to mention his body—it felt strange. Flexing his fingers, he could feel the cold metal of his golden armor against his skin. Even the sensation from his wings was unnervingly real, causing him to stumble out of his throne in shock.

"What the—?" Lucian muttered, jumping to his feet. He instinctively tried to pull up the GM interface by swiping at the air in front of him, but nothing happened.

"Lord Lucian?" a melodic voice called from behind him. He turned abruptly, his heart—or whatever he had now—skipping a beat. It was Albedo. Her hands were clasped over her chest, her expression one of genuine concern.

"Lord Lucian?" she repeated, her worried tone snapping him out of his daze.

Her mouth is moving...

'What. The. Hell. Is. Going. On.' His thoughts raced. Everything felt real—too real. How could this be happening? Why was Albedo speaking? Could the other NPCs speak, too? And where was—

"Momonga!" Lucian called out, but he froze mid-sentence. The voice that came out of his mouth wasn't his.

"Lucian..." Momonga's voice was similarly unfamiliar, though its deep resonance was unmistakable.

The two locked eyes—or rather, the darkness of Lucian's helmet met the glowing red pinpricks in the Elder Lich's sockets. The room fell into a tense silence, broken only by the occasional green healing aura flickering over Momonga's skeletal body.

"Lord Momonga? Lord Lucian? Is something the matter?" Albedo leaned forward, her generous figure straining against her outfit.

Lucian noticed Momonga's gaze drifting downward, and an inexplicable pang of jealousy surged through him.

WHACK! ''-500''

Everyone present flinched as Lucian smacked the back of Momonga's head.

"Ow! That... actually hurt?" Momonga groaned, rubbing the back of his skull.

"Momonga," Lucian growled, crossing his arms. "What the hell is going on? The GM interface isn't working for me."

"It's not working for me either!" Momonga snapped, before pointing accusingly. "And hey, why did you slap me just now?!"

"Because you were looking somewhere I didn't like," Lucian replied curtly, tilting his helmet toward Albedo, who was blushing furiously.

Momonga stared at Lucian, stunned. "Are you seriously jealous over an NPC?!"

Lucian shrugged. "She's more than just an NPC now, isn't she? And watch where you're looking next time."

Albedo, flustered but pleased by Lucian's jealousy, shifted awkwardly. Meanwhile, the room fell into another tense silence as the two Supreme Beings tried to make sense of their bizarre predicament.

The two huddled together, their voices dropping to hushed whispers for a solid five minutes. Finally, they pulled away, and Momonga began issuing orders.

"Sebas," Momonga called, his deep voice carrying authority. "Step out of Nazarick and scout the surrounding area."

"Understood, Lord Momonga." The butler bowed deeply before exiting the throne room with practiced grace.

As Momonga turned to organize the Pleiades, Lucian shifted his attention to Albedo, who stood dutifully nearby, her golden eyes watching him with anticipation.

"Albedo..." he began, his tone gentle but uncertain.

"Yes, Lord Lucian?" she replied instantly, her voice melodic and filled with adoration.

"Come closer."

"Hai!"

Without hesitation, Albedo closed the distance between them, standing on her tiptoes to match his towering presence. Her sweet perfume filled the air, its floral scent almost intoxicating. Lucian hesitated briefly before speaking again.

"Albedo... may I touch you?"

Her cheeks turned a soft crimson, but she smiled warmly. "Of course, Lord Lucian!"

Lucian reached out, his clawed glove lightly encircling her wrist. To his surprise, her skin felt warm beneath the cold metal, and a faint pulse throbbed against his fingers.

'This feels... real. Too real.'

Albedo let out a soft, involuntary gasp at the contact, her body trembling ever so slightly. Lucian almost pulled back but forced himself to stay composed.

"I..." he stuttered slightly, feeling the heat rise to his own cheeks. "C-can I touch your chest?"

'Idiot! Why did you stutter?!'

Albedo's blush deepened, but her smile grew wider. "Of course! Please, touch me as much as you desire, Lord Lucian!"

She straightened up, puffing out her generous chest in eager anticipation. The height difference, however, proved to be an issue.

"Please pardon my rudeness, Lord Lucian," she said apologetically, tilting her head up at him. "I am unable to—"

"Ah, right. Let me fix that," Lucian interjected, quickly dropping to one knee, his fiery tendril-like wings curling gently around them. He was now eye level with her chest, a position that caused Albedo's breath to hitch in surprise.

"L-Lord Lucian," she stammered, her voice shaking with a mixture of embarrassment and delight. "You do not need to lower yourself—oh!"

Her words dissolved into a soft moan as Lucian's hand rested on her left breast, his clawed fingers carefully kneading it like dough. The sensation was surprisingly warm, soft, and—

'Huh, very soft. Warm, too. This is... interesting.'

Just as Albedo's breathing grew heavier and her knees began to buckle, Lucian withdrew his hand. A small, pitiful whimper escaped her lips as she looked up at him, her large golden eyes shimmering with longing.

"Thank you, Albedo," he said, standing up and brushing himself off.

"M-my Lord," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, "I am forever yours to command."

Lucian glanced away, feeling a pang of guilt despite his curiosity. He couldn't deny the strange mix of emotions bubbling within him—excitement, confusion, and a faint sense of unease.

Behind him, Momonga cleared his throat loudly. "Lucian. Focus. We still need to figure out what's happening here!"

Lucian turned back, his face heating up as he caught Momonga's disapproving gaze—or as much disapproval as an expressionless skeleton could convey.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," Lucian muttered, gesturing for Albedo to follow as he joined Momonga.

Albedo trailed behind, her blush still visible and her heart racing with delight.

"Albedo, please cover your ears."

"Of course, Lord Lucian," she replied dutifully, her soft hands rising to block any sound. Her gaze, however, remained fixed on him, radiating her usual unyielding adoration.

"So—"

"Lucian... I think you're forgetting someone," Momonga interjected, sweatdropping as he pointed past Lucian with a bony finger.

Lucian turned to follow his guild leader's gesture and froze. There, sprawled lazily across his throne, was Serie. One leg stretched out, the other tucked close to her body as she rested her head on it, her fingers idly weaving glowing magic circles in the air.

"Serie."

"Hmmm? Oh, Lord Lucian, Lord Momonga. How may I be of service?" the elf said, her lazy smile accompanied by a playful wave.

Lucian sighed. "Except for the guardians of the 4th and 8th floors, gather everyone in the Arena on the 6th floor in an hour."

"Your wish is my command, Lord Lucian." Serie hopped off the throne with a feline grace, casting [Greater Teleportation] with a flick of her wrist. She dissolved into a puff of shimmering blue particles, leaving the throne empty.

The silence that followed was heavy with an air of unspoken judgment.

"I can't believe you've dirtied Tabula-san's NPC like that, Lucian,"

Momonga said, his voice laden with a mix of exasperation and disbelief. His glowing red eyes briefly flickered toward Albedo, who remained faithfully covering her ears but still managed to glance meaningfully at Lucian.

"Me?" Lucian countered, crossing his arms defensively. "You wanted to do the same thing!"

"I did not!" Momonga retorted, his voice rising slightly. He paused, fumbling for a plausible excuse. "I was, uh... just merely testing the Staff's power. Yes, that's right!"

Lucian arched a non-existent brow, his hidden expression screaming skepticism. "Right, because 'testing the staff's power' totally involves turning her into your personal lap ornament. That excuse is about as convincing as O.J. claiming the glove didn't fit."

Momonga flinched at the jab, the comparison to a notorious legal defense not lost on him. "You're one to talk, you pervert!"

Lucian smirked, ready to volley back another jab, but Momonga wisely held his tongue. As much as he wanted to argue, there were far more pressing matters to deal with than a battle of wits with his guildmate.

[Ampitheatre - 6th floor]

Momonga hummed thoughtfully, glancing down at the [Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown] gleaming on his skeletal finger. "The ring functions as it should. This means we can use items without any issue."

Lucian smirked, relieved. "Good to know. I'd hate to lose all the stuff I've collected."

"Same here," Momonga agreed, his voice tinged with frustration. "I've wasted far too much to acquire some of these items." He paused for a moment, an invisible brow furrowing in thought. "But now I wonder... are the other NPCs still acting according to their settings?"

Lucian shrugged. "Serie and the Pleiades seem to be behaving as expected. Plus, Albedo seemed to fully adopt her new changes. It wouldn't be wrong to assume the others are fine too."

"Hm, hm," Momonga murmured, nodding thoughtfully as he stroked his bony chin. "That makes sense. But just to be sure, let's test that theory."

Lucian gave a brief nod before addressing Albedo. "Of course, Hey, Albedo. You can stop now."

As soon as the words left his lips, Albedo, standing at attention, lowered her hands and relaxed her posture. "Hai, Lord Lucian," she responded with her usual grace and followed.

The group continued walking, approaching the opening of the Arena. Momonga glanced around and noted, "The twin dark elves that Chagama-san set should be the guardians here."

Barely a moment later, a blur of white, red, and yellow leapt from behind the stands, spinning gracefully before landing with agility before the two Supreme Beings and the Overseer.

"Aura," Momonga greeted.

The short dark elf beamed at them, her eyes bright with excitement. "Lord Momonga! Lord Lucian! Welcome to the 6th floor, which we proudly guard!"

"If you don't mind, we'll be stopping by for a bit," Lucian said casually.

Aura's grin widened. "What are you saying?! You are the lords of the Great Tomb of Nazarick! You're the absolute rulers! There's no one who would ever mind your presence!"

"I see..." Lucian paused, cupping the chin of his helmet. "By the way, shouldn't your twin be here as well?"

Aura blinked, then realization hit her. She immediately turned and shouted, "Mare! You're being rude to Lord Momonga and Lord Lucian! HURRY UP AND GET DOWN HERE!"

From the stands, a soft, nervous voice responded. "I-I can't, sis..."

Aura rolled her eyes, exasperated. "MARE!"

There was a brief, flustered pause, followed by Mare's reluctant response.

"F-Fine..."

"Honestly," Albedo muttered with a disapproving frown, "I ought to teach that brat some manners."

Soon after, Mare appeared, dropping from the stands and rushing up to them. It was only then that Lucian noticed something... unusual. Mare was wearing a girl's outfit, while Aura was dressed in boy's clothing.

Lucian's eyes narrowed. 'For the love of—what was Chagama-san thinking?'

"I-I am sorry for making you wait, Lord Momonga, Lord Lucian!" Mare stammered, noticing Lucian's gaze. He nervously shifted in place, gripping his staff with one hand while the other fidgeted with the hem of his skirt.

"Ahem," Momonga cleared his throat, glancing at his staff to draw attention to it. "We came here to ask the two of you to help us with something."

The twins' eyes sparkled with surprise as they followed his gaze. "U-Um, is that the legendary item that only Lord Momonga can wield?" Mare asked, his voice tinged with awe.

"That's right," Momonga replied with a slight nod. "This is the strongest guild weapon we created together—[The Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown]. Each gem in the mouths of the seven crowning snakes is a god-level artifact. On top of that, the power in the staff itself transcends even god-level. It is on par with any World-class item. Its automatic attack system is particularly—"

Lucian sharply elbowed him in the ribs, snapping him back to reality. "Well, anyways. That's how it is," Momonga added quickly, coughing into his fist, hoping the elves wouldn't focus on the finer details.

"Amazing!" Aura exclaimed, her voice filled with wonder.

"That's so amazing, Lord Momonga!" Mare added in awe, the twins clearly impressed by the sheer power one of the 41 Supreme Beings wielded.

"As expected of the Supreme Beings. The sheer power they wield knows no bounds!" Albedo praised, her voice full of reverence.

"I would like to run some tests with it," Momonga said, his tone shifting as he examined the staff.

"Yes! We'll prepare immediately!" Aura and Mare rushed off to set things up.

"Aura, we've also called the other guardians to gather here within the hour," Lucian informed her before she and Mare ran off. Aura's shoulders slumped slightly, as if sensing something was off.

"Huh? Is Shalltear coming too?" she asked, her voice tinged with unease.

Lucian looked back at Momonga, confused. The latter merely shrugged, not understanding what Aura meant either.

While Aura's beasts set up a pair of training dummies for the Supreme Beings, Lucian pondered how best to use his abilities in this new form.

'Normally, you'd just click and hold the icon on your HUB to activate abilities, but there's no interface here. However, if I concentrate hard enough, I can feel the details of my abilities—the range, cooldown rate... even my spear.'

With a thought, [Solarion] materialized in his hand, its golden shaft shimmering with an otherworldly glow, engraved with intricate runes that pulsed faintly like a heartbeat. The spearhead, forged from crystallized light, flared with molten fire, its sharp edges radiating an intense, fiery brilliance. Encircling the blade was a halo of golden energy, crackling with raw power, as though the weapon itself was infused with the will of the High Heavens. Trails of light followed its every motion, searing the air with its presence.

The sheer power was incredible, and the NPCs present couldn't hide their awe as they watched the spear radiate with dangerous potential. Its radiant energy seemed to weigh on the very fabric of reality, a testament to its divine and devastating might, leaving them frozen in awe at the weapon's destructive promise.

"Summon! Primal Fire Elemental!" Momonga commanded, gripping the staff tightly. The red gem on the [Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown] flared brightly, and in an instant, fire erupted between the training dummies, incinerating them instantly. The fire's heat was so intense that the lizards rushed forward, using their heat-resistant bodies to shield the twins, while Lucian and Momonga remained unaffected due to their passive barriers.

"Primal Fire Elemental, level should be in the upper 80s," Momonga said, eyeing the elemental. He then turned to Lucian. "Lucian, do you want to give it a try?"

Lucian waved it off. "Hm? Oh, no, I was just testing a few things. Let the twins take care of it."

Momonga nodded understanding and looked at Aura and Mare. "Mhm. How about it, Aura, Mare? Are you willing to give it a try?"

"HUH? CAN I?!" Aura's voice was filled with excitement at the thought of fighting the summoned elemental, while Mare, on the other hand, seemed far less enthusiastic.

"U-Um, I just remembered something I needed to do..." Mare mumbled, trying to slip away from the scene. But before he could make a clean getaway, Aura grabbed him by the shoulders and scolded him lightly.

"Hey, no escaping! Come on!" she said, dragging him back toward the Primal Fire Elemental.

"[Primal Fire Elemental], attack the twins!"

As the twins engaged the elemental, Lucian stood back, mulling over his own thoughts. He decided to try something. He pressed his hand to the side of his helmet where his ear would have been.

"Message," he muttered, concentrating.

Nothing happened.

"Nothing?" Momonga looked over, noticing Lucian's attempt. "So we really can't connect to a GM or any of the guild members—"

Just then, a voice interrupted them. "Yes, is something the matter, Lord Lucian?" Sebas's voice came through clearly.

Lucian momentarily froze in surprise. "Sebas? How do things look on the outside?"

"Well, there is a slight problem..." Sebas began, his tone cautious.

"Hm. We've called all the guardians to gather. Come to the Amphitheater on the 6th floor at once and report what you've discovered," Lucian instructed.

"Understood," Sebas replied before the connection ended.

"Was that Sebas? [Message] really connected?" Momonga asked, his voice filled with genuine surprise.

"Strangely enough, yeah," Lucian responded, still processing the connection. "It seems like the system registers the NPCs as players, giving them the privileges to use [Message]..."

"Interesting..." Momonga rubbed his skeletal chin, deep in thought. "We should conduct some extensive research on this later."

Before either of them could dwell further on it, a voice called out from the arena.

"Lord Momonga! Lord Lucian! We've successfully extinguished the elemental!"

"Oh? Impressive. You two did a great job," Momonga praised, genuinely surprised at how quickly the twins took down the level 80 elemental. It had taken them much less time than he expected.

"Thank you very much!" Aura said cheerfully, wiping the sweat from her brow. "I haven't exercised this much in a while!" Mare nodded at her words, his feminine face adorned with a shy smile.

"You two must be thirsty," Lucian observed, noticing the sweat that had accumulated on their dark skin. Without hesitation, he reached into the air, where a black hole opened momentarily. From it, he pulled out a cool water jug—an item he used to stockpile by the hundreds back when he hadn't yet acquired passive resistance to fire. The memories of his time spent in the volcanic regions of Yggdrasil flooded his mind. Along with two glasses in their hands which he poured the water in

"Hmmph."

Lucian turned toward the sound, spotting Albedo's intense gaze locked onto the glasses in the twins' hands. Her longing expression didn't go unnoticed.

"Do you... feel thirsty as well, Albedo?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"If... if I am worthy enough to receive such kindness, Lord Lucian," she responded, bowing slightly, her voice tinged with a hint of pleading.

"Sure, here."

With a wave of his hand, Lucian conjured another glass of water and handed it to her. Albedo's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and she accepted the glass with trembling hands. She downed the water so quickly it was as if she feared it might vanish before she finished.

Lucian couldn't help but chuckle inwardly at the sight, while Momonga, had he not been lost in thought, might have compared her speed to casting a Tier 1 spell.

Meanwhile, the twins gulped down their own glasses of refreshing water, letting out satisfied sighs.

"I thought the Supreme Beings would be scarier in person, Lord Momonga, Lord Lucian," Aura admitted, her voice hesitant.

"Hm? Really?" Lucian smirked, his tone playful. "We can be scarier if you'd like us to be."

"N-No, how you are now is better! It's definitely best!" Aura quickly stammered, shaking her hands in front of her as if to ward off the idea. Resulting in Momonga chuckling lightheartedly

Swoosh.

A shimmering portal materialized a few feet away, its magic humming softly. From within stepped a figure of striking elegance: Shalltear Bloodfallen, the vampiric beauty.

Her crimson eyes sparkled with mischief as she surveyed the group, her glossy, pale skin almost glowing under the magical light. She sauntered forward with an air of superiority, her crimson lips curling into a sly smile.

"My, am I the first?" Shalltear asked, her voice smooth as silk.

Momonga, still lost in thought about their strange new circumstances, failed to respond. Lucian, however, smoothly took the reins of the conversation.

"That honor belongs to Albedo, Shalltear," he replied, glancing at the Overseer.

Shalltear's expression shifted into a scowl as her eyes narrowed. Albedo, ever the opportunist, took the chance to wrap her arms possessively around Lucian's side and stuck out her tongue at the vampire.

The air between the two women grew tense as Shalltear growled low in her throat.

Momonga, watching from the sidelines, sighed internally. 'I still don't fully understand this world or what's going on, but at the very least, it seems the NPCs are unquestionably loyal to us... maybe too loyal.'

'Then we'll act like proper superiors in front of them.' Momonga's voice was steady, but his thoughts wavered. 'Which might become a bit of a problem considering Lucian's popularity with the girls... Never mind that!'

His skeletal fingers drummed lightly against the [Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown] as his internal monologue continued.

'We also need to gather information. In Yggdrasil, we were max level. How strong are we here? And if this truly is another world... should we even try to return to our old one? As far as I know, Lucian has no family left, like me. Friends? Lucian's right here, so that's that. And life back there... it wasn't anything special. Just working, coming home to sleep, and repeating the cycle. What worth is a life like that? I'm sure Lucian would agree with me...'

Momonga glanced at his companion briefly, a flicker of unspoken understanding passing between them.

By now, all the guardians summoned had gathered before the Supreme Beings. They knelt in unison, heads bowed low, their loyalty palpable. Albedo, ever dutiful, stepped away from Lucian's side, positioning herself at the forefront of the group. Her golden eyes gleamed with pride as she addressed the gathered assembly.

"Now, everyone. Before our supreme leaders—the ritual of fidelity."

The first to step forward was Shalltear Bloodfallen, her vampiric elegance accentuated by her confident stride. She placed a hand over her heart, her crimson eyes shining with reverence as she spoke.

"The guardian of the First, Second, and Third Floors: Shalltear Bloodfallen. I bow before the supreme ones."

She curtsied deeply, her gaze lifting momentarily to lock onto the two supreme beings, adoration plain in her expression.

Soft, measured footsteps echoed in the silence, growing closer with each passing second. Emerging into view was a short, petite woman with raven-black hair cut neatly to frame her delicate features.

"The Guardian of the Fifth Floor: Rukia Kuchiki," she announced, her voice calm yet laced with reverence. Bowing deeply, she continued, "I humbly bow before the Supreme Ones."

The sixth-floor guardians followed, their synchronization flawless despite their contrasting personalities.

"The guardian of the Sixth Floor: Aura Bella Fiora," Aura declared confidently.

"A-A-Also the guardian of the Sixth Floor: Mare Bello Fiore," Mare stammered, echoing his sister.

"We bow before the supreme ones," they finished in unison, bowing low.

Demiurge was next, his sharp, polished appearance a testament to his meticulous nature. His ever-present smile widened slightly as he stepped forward, his glasses catching the light.

"The guardian of the Seventh Floor: Demiurge. I bow before the supreme ones."

Finally, Albedo moved gracefully to stand before the supreme beings, her radiant presence commanding attention. She placed a hand over her heart, her voice filled with both reverence and pride.

"The leader of the Floor Guardians: Albedo. I bow before the supreme ones."

As she finished, she turned slightly to address the two leaders directly.

"Other than the guardian of the Fourth Floor, Gargantua, and the guardian of the Eighth Floor, Victim, all of the Floor Guardians have gathered to bow before you. Please, supreme ones, bestow your orders upon us."