Those words, spoken with such composure, jolted Monkyspanner's mind awake for an instant.

He had been searching desperately for an escape route. To fight was impossible—seven enemies stood before him, each one possibly his equal, perhaps even stronger. Resistance meant certain defeat. Survival, then, depended entirely on finding some way out.

Yet despair quickly set in. Even if he fled, where could he possibly go?

This was their trap.

The exits, if any existed, would be under their control.

To escape this space might well require defeating one of them—or all seven.

But could he even guarantee victory against a single opponent? And what assurance did he have the others would stand idly by? No—wasn't that the very reason they had gathered seven strong? To crush him through sheer numbers?

Their equipment gleamed with power. Not one of them seemed inferior to him; each weapon, each artifact shone with the brilliance of legendary gear.

He could only assume that every single one was armed to rival his own might.

Damn it… Ainz Ooal Gown… Just as the gods warned—cunning, treacherous devils through and through.

Without his knowing, they had closed in step by step, cornering him until there was nowhere left to run. And now, like hunters closing on their quarry, they had sprung the trap.

This was no battle—it was a hunt.

They had reduced Monkyspanner, a being of the Twelve High Priests, to mere game.

Escape was impossible. Outside aid could not be hoped for. These foes had already sealed the capital with wards that nullified teleportation and cut off all magical messaging. Reinforcements from beyond would never come.

He was alone. Completely isolated. Whatever happened here, it would be by his strength alone. But could he possibly prevail?

So this is the end… Monkyspanner's journey ends here?

Born of the gods' hand in Yggdrasil, who had served the Twelve for centuries, who had given himself wholly to Shinshi for over two hundred years—now, at last, he felt his life had reached its close before overwhelming despair.

And so—he cast aside his lingering attachments.

Regret remained, but he was no fool. Against this situation, survival was beyond hope.

Strangely, abandoning that hope cleared his mind.

Very well—conversation? Why not. If death was inevitable, then he would wring from them every scrap of information possible.

Perhaps, though the god still slept, there remained the faintest possibility of resurrection.

However slim, it was a chance he would not abandon.

"…Hmph. If you wish to speak, should you not first give your name? To wear a mask and hide even your identity, and still demand dialogue—that is no conversation at all."

"Oh? So that is your condition. Very well… Albedo, and all of you, restrain yourselves. Until I finish speaking with this one, none of you are to interfere. Understood?"

"Ughh… Y-yes!"

Ainz raised his hand, halting Albedo as she surged forward.

The Overseer longed to tear apart the impudent monkey who had dared speak so rudely to her beloved master, but she bit her lip and withdrew at his command.

The other Guardians too stiffened, their postures snapping back into disciplined stillness.

"Now then… you demand I reveal myself? But should you not first do the same? If we are to speak plainly, both sides must bare their truths."

"You already know my name, do you not? My identity as well. You have prepared such a grand snare for me—I would think you've learned more than enough."

"…Hmph. Keenly deduced. Very well then, Monkyspanner. I shall tell you what I know."

Without hesitation, Ainz spoke his name aloud, his tone utterly composed.

"I know who you are. That you are the master of the adventurer clan called Dragon's Dream. That you are one of those created by the hand of a Player. But beyond that… I know nothing. Your guild, your master, the ones you serve—those remain hidden. And that, precisely, is why you were invited here."

"An invitation? You drag me here by force, and call it that?"

"Call it what you will. But understand this—we had no time to spare. You were preparing to vanish. We had to speak before that happened, and knowing you would be cautious, we had no choice but to resort to such measures."

"So you kidnapped me. With a World Item, no less?"

"Oh? You discerned that much?"

"I may be flesh and blood, but I have surpassed the limits of the living. If something can abduct me—without a chance to even lift a hand or foot—then it can only be a World Item."

No super-tier magic could snatch away a level-100 being. Only something greater, an artifact said to contain an entire world within itself—the ultimate armament, a World Item.

That explained his predicament. A World Item that could pluck a single target and cast them into a battlefield of its choosing—if such a thing existed, this was it. Another piece of knowledge secured.

"…Impressive insight. Truly, beneath that exterior lies the brilliance of a jewel. Worthy indeed of a great clan's patriarch."

"Tch. Empty flattery… Tell me, did you hear nothing from that man?"

"That man? What do you mean?"

Monkyspanner's mind flickered briefly.

The image of the old man in ceremonial robes he'd once met underground surfaced.

Could it be? Were these—this Ainz Ooal Gown—enemies of that elder's faction?

If so, then no matter what happened here, he must never reveal that information.

If their rush to seize him was because of some looming war with that man's people, then for Shinshi's sake the truth must remain hidden.

Whether that elder was truly "good" he could not know. But an enemy of Ainz Ooal Gown might yet become an ally to Shinshi.

"…Man? You must be mistaken."

"No… a mere slip of the tongue. Forget it. As for my identity—you asked for it. Then listen well!"

If nothing else, he could divert their focus. And so Monkyspanner chose to act—a performance, the way his creator once instructed him to introduce himself. Without hesitation, without shame, he declared:

"I am he whom the Creator-god shaped from nothingness! Flesh was given me, a name was granted me—and thus was born the Simian Immortal, draped in radiant golden fur, whose fiery golden eyes see through all creation! I am Monkyspanner!"

Staff in one hand, palm thrust forward in defiance, his booming voice rose like a chant, almost poetic in cadence:

"Seventy-two arts at my command, with which I toy with the world! A single staff in my grip can sweep aside my foes as though in dance! Sometimes I tease women, sometimes I revel in delicacies, sometimes I drink deep and roam the skies and earth at my whim! Even in the jaws of peril I laugh unbowed, and if death should claim me, still my head will grin bold upon the ground! So why should I fear this moment? Come then, strike if you dare! Even should no grave remain for me here, I shall fall standing, unbent, unbroken!"

He bellowed, eyes blazing crimson-gold, defiance radiating like fire.

For a moment, Ainz almost clapped.

…It was cool. Damnably cool.

What the hell—that's… stylish. Like something out of kabuki theater. Damn it, Pandora's Actor would've been ten times better if I'd gone with that kind of flair…

Regret gnawed at him. Why hadn't he leaned into that style when designing his own NPC? If he'd gone with something Japanese-themed, would it have turned out this glorious? No—he was only thinking that because someone else had made it. If he tried, it would probably have been just as cringeworthy…

"Come, then! Face me with all your might! Hurry—strike, strike!"

"…Do you truly believe you can win?"

"Even if victory is but one in ten thousand, even if there is none at all—it matters not! I will meet death laughing, as befits me! So come, come at me!"

"…Hoh."

It was reckless. Foolish. Yet—Ainz couldn't help it. It was cool. Like watching an anime hero stride onto the stage, larger than life. He didn't even feel like belittling him.

Ainz covered his unease with a cough.

"…Ahem. Whether there is battle or not—that is mine to decide. Understand this: my forces here utterly outstrip you. Even should you throw yourself into a death struggle, my loyal subordinates can subdue you without killing you."

"Long or short, you only know once you measure… Still, I must admit it—you hold the advantage now."

Monkyspanner abruptly let his battle fervor die away and sat cross-legged on the ground, glaring at Ainz's masked face in defiance.

"So then—what will you do? I don't even know who you are. Nor the names of those fiendish followers standing around you. I've finished my introduction. Shouldn't you, at the very least, introduce each of yours—calmly and politely?"

"That is impossible," Ainz replied flatly. "I know you are a creation. I also know that with your master's power, you may be resurrected. Thus—we cannot allow you to learn our information."

"I see. So the goal is to extract knowledge from me. That's it, isn't it?"

"Half right," Ainz said coolly, his eyes burning even through the mask as he pointed at Monkyspanner.

"What I want—" his voice rang out—"is you."

"…Huh?"

"I want everything you are."

"…Wait. What?"

Monkyspanner froze. That wording was highly misleading. And the Guardians—oh, they froze too. Especially Albedo, who trembled violently, unable to contain herself before blurting out:

"A-Ainz-sama… So that was your taste…? An ape…?!"

"…Eh?"

For a moment Ainz genuinely reeled, as if his nonexistent eyes were about to pop out of his skull. What the hell are you people talking about?!

"A-Albedo! That's not what I meant! I didn't mean it like that at all—!"

"Forgive me," Monkyspanner rumbled dryly, "but you're not really my type either. Still, your… passionate confession will be remembered."

"Wh-what?! Ainz-sama!!"

"To think my lord's preference was for males… and even beastmen…! That I, Demiurge, failed to perceive this… truly an unforgivable oversight…"

"No it's not!"

It was chaos. Ainz could hardly believe this was happening. He had Monkyspanner captive, yet somehow he was spending his energy calming his Guardians down—an Albedo on the verge of tears, a Demiurge solemnly reassessing "Master's preferences," Cocytus blushing through his insectoid bulk as if preparing to volunteer, and even Mare chirping: I'll… I'll try my best too!—whatever that meant.

All the while, Monkyspanner was quietly testing if there was any chance to escape. But even amid the skit, none of them left an opening.

When the farce finally died down, Ainz—an undead incapable of fatigue—nonetheless felt utterly drained.

Why do these misunderstandings always happen now, of all times? But at least he had corrected them. Now he could return to the matter at hand.

"…Haa. In any case. If you will cooperate, then perhaps we need not waste our strength in needless conflict. What say you? Resolve this through words, not combat?"

"And what—while you pretend to talk, you scheme some trick?"

"No. As I've said, you are already subdued. That means you will follow my terms."

Monkyspanner hesitated.

He had already accepted that survival here was impossible. But information—information must still be gathered. If resurrection was even faintly possible, the intel must be carried back. And if not, then at least his captors must be fed false information.

The Twelve High Priests had prepared contingencies for exactly this: if their outer shell, Dragon's Dream, was exposed, they would scatter lies amidst truth to shield Shinshi.

Already the main estate was nearly purged, its records destroyed, false data mixed in to mislead any invader.

But if captured alive, that plan would collapse. Better to die outright than fall into their hands. Thus, his goal: feed them their falsehoods—while preparing to die.

"…Very well. I will answer three questions of your choosing—honestly. After that… do as you will."

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