The deepest chamber of the Great Tomb of Nazarick — the Throne Room.

Adorned with lavish decorations and countless treasures, the former dwelling of kings… no, of gods themselves.

And now, in that sacred place, only one figure remained: Ainz Ooal Gown.

Before him, a demon knelt, head bowed.

The recording the demon had offered had just ended.

It was a video captured through the vision of a summoned familiar, stored and then relayed to Demiurge — a recording of everything Monkyspanner had done within the Eight Fingers' hideout.

Though the clarity was less than perfect — being a secondhand view from the familiar, then through Demiurge — it was more than enough for Ainz to grasp the situation.

---

"That is all, Lord Ainz."

"Well done. I am satisfied, Demiurge."

"No, Lord Ainz… our scheme fell short. We failed to gauge that man's true strength. I beg you to punish—"

"No, Demiurge. You have done well. Even with this, I can estimate the power he wields."

If there was one field in which Ainz could claim superiority over every NPC of Nazarick, it was PvP — Player versus Player combat theory.

In Yggdrasil, every hardcore player had their own PvP style.

Among them, Suzuki Satoru — Momonga — had been one of the long-time veterans who stayed until the very end.

An "old hand" so deeply entrenched that other "old hands" called him ancient sludge.

He knew better than anyone that his own build was hardly optimized for direct combat.

His build — from Skeleton Mage to Necromancer — was designed for warfare against armies, not duels.

His magic favored support and defense over offense, shoring up allies and tipping the tide in their favor.

His use of Black Wisdom to expand his repertoire of spells was for that very reason.

A pure damage build could make do with a handful of nukes and supportive buffs.

But a support role needed a vast array of enhancements and utility magic, to bolster allies and function as an auxiliary artillery platform when necessary.

Even so, Momonga's PvP ranking was respectable — upper mid-tier, scraping the lower end of high-tier.

This was thanks to his varied combat methods, the multitude of spells afforded by Black Wisdom, hidden-class special skills for one-shot kills, and several other secret trump cards.

'…Though I never once beat Touch Me… or Ulbert, for that matter. But then, they did have those busted World-Class jobs… so maybe that's only natural.'

If World Items were the strongest artifacts in Yggdrasil, then World-Class Jobs were the strongest character classes.

These special jobs could only be obtained by meeting unique event, quest, or condition requirements — and just as there were only about 200 World Items in the entire game, there were fewer than a few hundred players with World-Class Jobs among the millions in the game.

Touch Me's World Champion — a warrior-type class granted only to the winner of the "World Festival" tournament in each world — was limited to one per world, just nine in total.

Ulbert's World Disaster, a magic-based damage-specialist World-Class, could be earned by meeting special conditions… or taken from its wielder if a magic-class challenger defeated them in PvP.

These classes came with overwhelming stat boosts and unique hidden skills — like World Break of the World Champion, or Grand Catastrophe of the World Disaster — abilities that normal classes had virtually no way of resisting.

Ainz possessed no such class, and so had instead poured his effort into analyzing and refining PvP strategy.

It made him an expert in his own right — a tactician armed with knowledge and preparation.

...

"Hm… I see."

From Ainz's perspective, this Monkyspanner possessed an impressive build — the strongest he had encountered in this world.

Stronger than warrior Gazef Stronoff.

Stronger than assassin Clementine.

No… on a different plane entirely.

Judging purely by warrior standards, Monkyspanner was likely in the level 70–80 range.

The final skill he had shown as a threat — seemingly Vibration Destruction, a technique used by weapon-mastery classes — could be measured more accurately by comparing it to Sebas's abilities.

But even so… Ainz had yet to see his full power.

To draw it out, he might have to use Nazarick's forces.

...

"I see now why you came to me, Demiurge."

"Yes, Lord Ainz. I humbly request permission to advance the plan you entrusted to me — so that we may test that man's true strength."

"Hm—"

Ainz made a show of rubbing his chin with a sharp, imposing finger.

Inwardly, however, he was flustered.

'Eh? Wait—what did I say again?'

Ainz trusted Demiurge. He truly did. But understanding what Demiurge was actually thinking? That was nearly impossible. No—completely impossible. The demon was, after all, Nazarick's greatest intellect.

Usually, Ainz would find some way to involve other Guardians in the discussion, forcing Demiurge to explain things in more detail, and then—only then—would Ainz finally think, Ah! Of course! and piece it together.

This time, though… nothing. He genuinely had no recollection of what command he had supposedly given. He wondered if Demiurge had taken some offhand remark, read between the lines, and acted on it—but no matter how hard he thought, nothing came to mind.

Just what is he planning this time?

Ainz couldn't help but regret agreeing so carelessly when Demiurge had urgently requested a private meeting. This was dangerous! For many reasons—his dignity, his authority… and other things.

Above all, he could not afford to lose the trust of Demiurge, the brain of Nazarick. Even if it was just an illusion, he had to maintain the image of an ideal ruler—a wise and all-knowing monarch.

He even found himself mentally apologizing to the superiors he had once resented—those managers who never did any of the actual work yet took home the big salaries. He had once cursed them. Now, he understood. Standing at the top and leading others was far harder than he'd ever imagined.

At least he'd gathered some idea of what Demiurge meant. It seemed he was asking permission to use more "test subjects"—in other words, to deploy more of Nazarick's forces.

"Ahem. This… plan… there won't be any problems, will there, Demiurge?"

"Of course not, Lord Ainz. The preparations for the test are flawless. Once we've seen the extent of his power, we can better judge Nazarick's response. Furthermore, the plan you entrusted to me is proceeding perfectly… with only a small impurity interfering."

"…I see."

Impurity?

Ainz thought for a moment—and then it clicked.

Recently, the Great Tomb of Nazarick had accepted a woman into its ranks under its name: Tuareninya Veyron. She had once been connected to the adventurer who called herself Ninya, the younger sister she had spoken of.

Remembering the small debt he owed to that adventurer, Ainz had decided to repay it in kind. And so, in accordance with her wishes, he had allowed her to join Nazarick.

Admittedly, he had pushed this decision through on his own at the time. He had sensed the Guardians' displeasure, and now wondered if he had made a mistake.

He did feel a twinge of guilt—but no regret. To him, debts had to be repaid: kindness for kindness, vengeance for vengeance. That was a principle he would not abandon.

"So… you were still thinking about that, Demiurge?"

"My apologies, Lord Ainz. It is simply… troubling to think that such a person might wear the glory of Nazarick."

"It's fine. I understand your feelings. But I recognized her myself. You will need to accept that."

"…Yes."

Demiurge bowed his head. Ainz exhaled silently, a small weight in his chest.

He was always grateful to them—all of them. Even without proper rewards, they worked tirelessly for him.

Of course it would be difficult for them to accept a newcomer they knew nothing about. In company terms, it was like a laborer who had clawed his way up from the bottom to a sales position… only to see someone parachute in as an executive purely through personal connections. Thinking of it that way, Ainz felt even guiltier.

"Well, in this matter, I leave everything to you, Demiurge. Your devotion to Nazarick is always appreciated. If you require additional strength, I will authorize the use of your own Floor Guardian—or even other Floor Guardians, if necessary. Take every precaution, and bring success to our cause."

"…! It is an infinite honor, Lord Ainz. I will devote my full strength to this task!"

Demiurge's voice rang with emotion as he bowed repeatedly.

And as Ainz listened to him, he made up his mind about one thing—he would never again agree to a private meeting with Demiurge.

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