The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the small living room. Nemu had finally fallen asleep after her third bedtime story—Ainz had begrudgingly read her The Brave Little Squirrel (a book he found unbearably saccharine, but Nemu adored it). Now, he sat on the couch, his skeletal fingers carefully turning the pages of a local history tome, the enchanted Magic Glasses perched on his nasal cavity translating the unfamiliar script.
Across from him, Enri worked on mending a torn shirt, her needle moving with practiced ease. The domesticity of the scene was almost surreal—an undead Overlord and a village girl, sharing a quiet evening like an old married couple.
Ainz closed the book with a soft thump, setting it aside.
"Your stitching has improved," he remarked.
Enri smirked, not looking up. "Flattery won't get you out of reading to Nemu tomorrow."
"I was being observational, not flattering."
"Liar."
A faint chuckle escaped him—more of a dry exhale than a true laugh. Silence settled between them again, comfortable and warm.
Then, after a moment, Ainz spoke.
"You never told me much about your parents."
Enri's hands stilled. She set the shirt aside, her expression softening. "They were good people. Hardworking. Kind." She smiled faintly. "My dad used to tell the worst jokes. My mom always scolded him for it, but she laughed every time."
Ainz nodded. "They sound like they raised you well."
"They did." Her voice was quiet. "I wish you could've met them."
"My condolences," he said simply.
Enri shook her head. "It's okay."
"...I had a mother," he admitted.
Enri blinked. "Wait—you had a mother?"
"I was alive once," he said dryly. "Before I... turned myself into this."
Enri's eyes widened slightly, but she didn't press.
Ainz stared into the fire, his voice distant. "My mother worked herself to death. When I woke up one morning, I found her collapsed in the kitchen. Even lashed with fatigue, she'd pushed herself to make my favorite dish." His fingers flexed slightly. "If she'd just rested instead... she might still be around now."
Enri's breath caught.
"When I found her," Ainz continued, "her body was already ice cold. At least... that's how I remember it. My memory's hazy on that count."
The admission hung in the air, heavier than he'd intended.
Enri reached out, her hand covering his. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
Ainz shook his head. "Don't be. It's barely a memory now. More like... a whisper."
She squeezed his fingers.
******
The afternoon sun filtered through the trees as Nemu sat cross-legged in the grass, her tiny face scrunched in concentration. Ainz loomed over her, arms crossed, his crimson gaze unwavering.
"Focus," he intoned. "Magic is will given form. You must demand the mana to obey."
Nemu stuck out her tongue. "It's hard."
"If it were easy, every idiot with a pointy hat would be an archmage."
She huffed but closed her eyes again, tiny hands outstretched.
"Pew pew!" Nemu shouted, wiggling her fingers.
Nothing happened.
Ainz sighed. "That is not the verbal component."
"But it's more fun!"
"Fun doesn't pierce armor."
After fifteen more minutes of failed attempts, a faint shimmer finally coalesced at Nemu's fingertips. A wobbly, half-formed arrow of light sputtered into existence—then promptly fizzled out.
Nemu gasped. "I DID IT!"
"That was a glorified spark."
"I DID IT!" She leapt up, dancing in circles. "Didja see? Didja? I'm a wizard now!"
Ainz's eye lights flickered with something perilously close to pride. "...Adequate."
———
"This one's useless in combat," Ainz admitted, "but good for eavesdropping."
Nemu's eyes lit up. "Can I hear Enri snoring from here?"
"That's not— He pinched the bridge of his nasal cavity. "Just cast the spell."
This time, Nemu managed it faster. With a squeak, her ears twitched—elongating slightly, fur sprouting at the tips.
"WHOAAAA!" She grabbed her new ears, giggling. "I can hear everything! That bird's wings! Ants walking! Mr. Flops chewing grass behind the— She gasped. "Ainz! Mr. Flops is eating your scarf!"
Ainz whirled. The undead rabbit froze mid-chomp, a strip of black fabric dangling from its teeth.
"[Repair]." The scarf repaired itself instantly. "Traitor," he muttered.
Nemu's ears twitched again. "Oh no. Enri's coming. She's gonna say—"
"NEMU! WHY DO YOU HAVE RABBIT EARS?!" Enri's voice carried from across the field.
Nemu beamed. "Magic!"
Enri shot Ainz a look. "You're corrupting her."
"She corrupted herself," Ainz said solemnly. "A natural talent for mischief."
Nemu, now using her enhanced hearing to listen in on three separate village gossip sessions, didn't disagree.
******
The arrival of the knights was announced by the thunder of hooves and the clanking of armor. A contingent of Re-Estize soldiers rode into Carne Village, their banners flapping in the wind as they dismounted with the casual arrogance of men who expected obedience.
"By order of His Majesty, King Ramposa III, all able-bodied men of Carne Village are hereby conscripted into the royal army for the war against the Baharuth Empire!" the lead knight bellowed, his voice carrying across the square.
Villagers murmured in fear and frustration. The yearly draft was always a brutal affair—many who left never returned.
Ainz, standing near the edge of the crowd, watched impassively from behind his mask.
One of the knights, a burly man with a scar across his nose, spotted Ainz's imposing figure.
"You there!" he barked, striding forward. "You look strong enough to hold a spear. You're coming with us."
Ainz tilted his head slightly. "I don't think so."
The knight's face darkened. "This isn't a request. It's the law."
A few more knights moved in, surrounding him, hands resting on their sword hilts.
Ainz exhaled—a slow, deliberate sound. "Let me make this clear. I will not be forced into military service."
The lead knight sneered. "You don't have a choice, peasant."
Ainz's voice turned glacial. "You have a lot of nerve, threatening me in the place where I live."
Before the knight could react, Ainz's gauntleted hand shot out, seizing him by the throat and lifting him effortlessly off the ground. The man gagged, his feet kicking uselessly in the air.
"S-Sir—!" Another knight drew his sword and slashed at Ainz's back.
The blade struck—and shattered.
Ainz didn't even flinch.
The knights stared in horror at their broken weapons, then back at the masked figure before them.
"I suggest," Ainz said calmly, "that you leave this village. Now."
With a flick of his wrist, he hurled the knight in his grasp like a ragdoll. The man flew dozens of meters before crashing into the dirt road outside the village, groaning in pain.
The remaining knights stumbled back, faces pale.
Ainz's voice carried an unshakable finality. "And when you return to the capital, deliver a message to Gazef Stronoff. Tell him that Ainz Ooal Gown—the man who saved this village and his own life—does not tolerate disrespect."
The knights didn't need to be told twice. They scrambled onto their horses and fled, their earlier bravado replaced by sheer terror.
The villagers stood in stunned silence before erupting into cheers.
Ainz adjusted his robes, then turned to Enri, who had been watching from the doorway of her home.
"...Did I overdo it?"
She smirked. "Not even a little."
———
Gazef Stronoff arrived in Carne Village with a small contingent of knights—far fewer than last time, and with no weapons drawn. The villagers watched warily as the Warrior-Captain dismounted and approached Ainz's dwelling alone.
Inside, the two men sat across from each other—Gazef on a wooden stool, Ainz in a chair that somehow made his skeletal frame look regal rather than unnatural.
"I assume you're not here to try conscripting me again," Ainz said, his voice dry.
Gazef exhaled. "No. I'm here to… negotiate."
Gazef leaned forward, his hands clasped. "The kingdom needs strong warriors. Men like you could turn the tide of this war."
Ainz's fingers tapped idly on the armrest. "And what would I gain from that?"
"Gold. Title..."
Ainz chuckled—a low, hollow sound. "I have no need for any of those things."
Gazef hesitated, then tried another angle. "Then think of the people. The Baharuth Empire—"
"The people?" Ainz interrupted, his tone sharpening. "The same people your kingdom forces into war without pay? Without choice?"
Gazef's jaw tightened, but he didn't deny it.
Ainz leaned back, studying Gazef. "I've been thinking. The king… he knows this is wrong, doesn't he?"
Gazef's silence was answer enough.
"Ah." Ainz's voice dripped with disdain. "So he's not cruel. Just spineless. Letting the nobles dictate his rule while peasants die for their games."
Gazef's fists clenched, but he didn't argue. "It's… complicated."
"It's disgusting," Ainz corrected. "And hypocritical. A king who allows injustice is no king at all."
The air between them grew heavy.
Finally, Ainz stood. "I won't join your war. Not by law, not by persuasion. If your king tries to force me…" His crimson gaze burned into Gazef. "You already know how that will end. And neither of us wants that."
Gazef met his eyes—and for the first time, the Warrior-Captain looked weary. "No. We don't."
Ainz turned toward the window, where the villagers were tending their fields. "All I want is to live here in peace. That's not too much to ask, is it?"
Gazef stood as well, bowing slightly. "I'll see that no one from Carne Village is drafted. You have my word."
Ainz nodded. "Good."
The knights left without incident, their mission abandoned. As Gazef mounted his horse, he cast one last glance at Ainz's home.
******
Word of Carne Village's defiance had reached the capital—and Prince Barbro, ever the arrogant fool, took it as a personal insult.
"Peasants refusing the crown? Unacceptable!" he snarled, slamming his goblet onto the table. "We ride at dawn. I'll remind those dirt-grubbers what happens when you spit on royal blood."
His knights, sycophantic as ever, cheered. None of them questioned why Gazef Stronoff had failed to enforce the draft. None of them cared.
———
Ainz sensed them long before they arrived.
The Death Knight, ever vigilant at the village outskirts, turned its horned helm toward the distant rumble of hooves. Its crimson eyes flared.
Barbro's party never even made it to the village gates.
One moment, they were galloping down the forest road, banners flying. The next—
"What in the—?!"
The Death Knight moved like a nightmare given form. Its massive flamberge cleaved through armor and flesh alike, silencing screams before they could leave throats. Barbro barely had time to draw his sword before a skeletal hand clamped around his face—
—and then there was nothing.
No bodies. No bloodstains. Just an empty road where a prince and his knights had once been.
Ainz stood at the village border, watching as the Death Knight returned, its task complete.
"Dispose of the remains," he ordered.
The Death Knight bowed and vanished into the shadows.
Enri, who had been watching from the doorway, frowned. "...What was that about?"
Ainz shrugged. "Garbage collection."
She rolled her eyes but didn't press further.