The Throne Room was still, save for the soft glow of ambient magical light that illuminated the obsidian floor. Ainz sat upon his throne, back straight and posture impeccable. Despite the dignity of his appearance, his inner thoughts were considerably more chaotic.
"Alright," he muttered to himself in a deep, regal tone. "Next step... E-Rantel."
He had weighed the possibilities. Staying within Nazarick forever was tempting, but ultimately impractical. Information was power, and he needed a better understanding of this new world.
But he wouldn't go out as the bone-faced overlord. No. This required subtlety.
"I'll go incognito," he reasoned. "With style."
A name was necessary. Something simple. Something mysterious.
"Rein," he decided aloud. "Short. Dramatic. Heroic. Definitely not something I stole from a menu item."
The Official Announcement
The Floor Guardians gathered before the throne, waiting in breathless anticipation.
"I have decided to depart Nazarick and observe the human settlement of E-Rantel," Ainz declared, his voice solemn and commanding.
'Please just nod and look impressed,' he thought nervously.
Shalltear blinked. "Alone, Ainz-sama?"
"Not alone," he replied calmly. "Narberal Gamma will accompany me."
Albedo visibly stiffened. Aura raised an eyebrow. Mare looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor.
Demiurge stepped forward. "May I ask, is this a reconnaissance operation, Ainz-sama?"
Ainz gave a deliberate nod. "Yes. I will be gathering information personally."
"Understood," Demiurge said, bowing. "A tactical masterstroke."
'Sure, let's go with that.'
Later, Ainz stood before a large mirror in his private chambers. He examined his disguised form—his Noblesse Caster skin. Flowing dark robes, long black hair, glowing crimson eyes. A flawless appearance with eerie poise.
"No weapons," he mused. "Spells only. A true battle-mage. Like those players who dumped everything into INT and casting speed."
He raised a hand and cast a mid-tier spell.
It launched instantly.
He blinked.
"That was fast… but the mana draw was…" He checked his status.
"…Triple. Yep. That tracks."
He recalled the in-game cosmetic's flavor text. 'An ancient noble of the arcane. Unmatched in speed, unchallenged in grace. Beware the cost of power.'
"At the time I thought that was just marketing fluff," he muttered.
He rubbed his chin, deep in thought.
"This changes my combat style. No delay in spellcasting. Expensive, but effective. A true arcane assassin, if I stay aware of my mana pool."
He tried several more spells, noting the drastic difference in casting time for Tier 5 and above.
"So that's the tradeoff. No cast time… but if I'm reckless, I'll bottom out fast."
He smirked to himself.
"Still. Cool."
Before departure, Ainz indulged in a soak at Nazarick's luxurious bathhouse. He didn't need it, of course. But it helped with nerves.
Narberal waited nearby, impassive and silent, hands folded.
Afterward, he sat alone in the dining hall. He couldn't taste anything, but the act of eating helped stabilize his thoughts—like pretending to be human, just a little.
The throne room once again filled with all Floor Guardians.
They lined up in formal rows, watching as their Supreme One, radiant in black and red, gave his final instructions.
"While I am gone, maintain Nazarick's security. Continue your intelligence gathering and report through designated channels."
They all bowed in synchrony.
"Understood, Ainz-sama!"
He turned to Narberal. "You're with me. Pack minimally. We leave within the hour."
"Yes, Ainz-sama."
Albedo's lips parted, but she said nothing. Her wings drooped slightly.
Shalltear gave a deep bow, murmuring, "If any dares to offend you, allow me the honor of dismembering them afterward."
Aura whispered to Mare, "Nabe's so lucky…"
Mare just nodded nervously.
And with that, Ainz turned on his heel.
"Rein and Nabe," he muttered. "The greatest act in this world's history begins now."
The guardians bowed deeply as their Lord strode away from the throne.
And so began the first step of the Supreme One's descent into the world.
**********************
Ainz stood atop the grand stairs of Nazarick's entrance, the golden gateway glowing with arcane energy behind him. Narberal was beside him, already in travel attire, black cloak draped over her form.
He took a deep breath—not because he needed one, but because old habits lingered.
"This is it," he murmured. "First contact."
Narberal said nothing, but her gaze didn't waver.
He turned slightly, looking at the wide horizon beyond the barrier. Somewhere out there lay E-Rantel, and with it, answers. Perhaps even danger.
Ainz looked down at his hands—pale, slender, regal. The form of the Crimson Sovereign. This skin had given him more than looks. It had granted him speed and precision, and now, a subtle shift in identity.
"Rein," he said aloud. "The battle-mage persona of Ainz Ooal Gown. I can work with that."
He chuckled lightly. "As long as no one asks where I got the name."
With a final glance back at the grand architecture of Nazarick—the tomb that once held dozens of guildmates—he stepped forward.
The teleportation gate shimmered.
"Activate."
The magical array surged, and in a flash of light, Ainz Ooal Gown—now Rein—and Narberal Gamma vanished from the halls of Nazarick.
Their destination: E-Rantel.
***********************
The adventurer's guild was modest in size but bustling with life. Veterans and rookies crowded the job board, while staff rushed paperwork behind the front desk.
The moment Rein entered, the room stilled. Every pair of eyes turned.
Some dropped their mugs. Others their jaws.
Rein's robes shimmered subtly with enchantments, and his presence filled the room like a noble had just walked into a tavern.
He approached the desk slowly, Narberal behind him like a silent shadow.
"I wish to register," he said.
The receptionist—an older woman with glasses—froze for a second, then scrambled into professional mode. "O-of course! Please fill in this form, sir... Rein, was it?"
He accepted the form with a graceful nod.
Ainz's inner thoughts bubbled up. This is going smoother than expected.
Narberal watched the other adventurers like they were trash cluttering the floor.
One fool approached and sneered, "Who dresses like that? What are you, a noble cosplayer?"
Narberal's hand twitched.
Rein gave the man a look.
Just a look.
The man paled and backed away without another word.
Huh, Ainz thought. Maybe this face really does come with intimidation perks.
As he completed the form, he mused, Alright… Step one, done. Now to figure out how much these people know about magic, monsters, and politics.
He turned toward Narberal.
"Our first mission should be low-profile. Something simple. And non-lethal."
"Yes, Rein-sama."
He paused, then added with a sigh, "Also, let's try not to kill any rude adventurers… unless absolutely necessary."
Narberal didn't respond.
But her smirk said otherwise.
******************
The guild receptionist handed Rein a parchment filled with registration questions, completely unaware of the internal calculation their mysterious guest was masking behind a perfectly calm expression.
...As expected. Ainz blinked, but his confidence didn't falter. So the written language here is different, but thanks to dumb luck... it's perfectly readable.
Before teleporting to E-Rantel, he had equipped a cosmetic item out of habit—a relic from an old event tucked away in his inventory: the "Lenses of Lexicon."
A stylish pair of silver-rimmed glasses, they were purely cosmetic in Yggdrasil. No stats, no combat use. Their only effect had been flavor text: "Grants the user passive comprehension of all non-magical languages, ancient or modern." Most players ignored them.
But he remembered why he had bought them.
"It looked good with the skin," he muttered internally. "Made me look more like a noble vampire… like Raizel."
He pushed the glasses up with a single finger.
And now? He could read the local language without any trouble.
The full description flickered through his memory:
Grants the user passive comprehension of all non-magical languages, ancient or modern, visual or verbal. Cannot be unequipped once worn except with special item.
He winced. Right, that part.
He hadn't expected any of the cosmetic descriptions to become real. Especially not a roleplay trinket he slapped on just to look cool. Yet somehow, here in this new world, it worked.
This world interprets everything—stats, abilities, and even silly cosmetics—literally. If the flavor text says I understand languages, then… I guess I do now.
He sighed inwardly. I only wore these to complete the "vampire aristocrat" look. Past-me really had a thing for aesthetics.
He looked up from the document and nodded at the receptionist. "Everything is in order."
As he handed back the form, he noticed Narberal watching the surroundings with a bored expression.
"Well… at least I look smart now," he muttered.
Narberal raised an eyebrow. "Did you say something, Rein-sama?"
He coughed into his gloved hand. "Just thinking out loud."
Internally, he added, So I'm stuck with these glasses forever. But I guess if they let me read and talk to people without casting magic every five seconds, that's a win.
The receptionist smiled nervously. "Your registration is complete, Sir Rein. A guild plate will be ready shortly. Would you like us to prepare an introductory quest?"
"Yes. Something humble to begin with," Rein replied smoothly. "I am new to this region and prefer to observe before engaging in more… notable work."
"Very well. Please wait in the lounge."
As they stepped aside, Ainz leaned toward Narberal and whispered, "Remind me to thank past-me for picking fashion over practicality."
"Understood, Rein-sama."
Thus, armed with nothing more than his terrifying aura, impressive robes, and a pair of enchanted glasses he only wore to match an anime skin, the Crimson Sovereign continued his infiltration of E-Rantel with grace—and absurd magical efficiency.