The mirror shimmered faintly as the guardians leaned forward, their gazes locked on the spectacle unfolding. The rustling of leaves grew sharper in the magically amplified feed
From the dark tree line, a towering figure stepped forth—an unmistakable skeletal form, but far from the Sans they had come to know. This was his NO MERCY form fully realized. Nearly two meters tall, his frame radiated a presence that felt oppressive, almost divine in its weight.
Three pairs of wings stretched wide across his back, each pair different from top to bottom—Feathery fire wings like a phoenix, leathered mossy green wings like that of bats and jagged bone, no feather not leathered wing just the spine of the wings is present. Upon his skull rested the upper half of a Gaster Blaster, its left socket a crimson glow can be seen.
Draped across his shoulders was the Prismatic Mantle - a rainbow cloak, colors bending, twisting like oil on water. The fluffy rainbow-lined neck collar gave an unsettling contrast, a predator disguised in festival hues. A tail lashed behind him, its end tapering into a gleaming blade tip,
In the office, silence reigned. Until the overlord spoke.
"Sans has already won the battle."
The declaration stirred the Guardians, though none dared raise their voices rashly. The first to break the silence was Demiurge.
"Ainz-sama…" Demiurge adjusted his glasses, bowing his head slightly. His tone carried not doubt, but reverence. "Forgive my lack of vision, but I cannot grasp the reasoning behind your certainty. To perceive the outcome so clearly before it has unfolded… it is, as always, far beyond my humble understanding. Might I beg you to enlighten us, so that even one as foolish as I may glimpse a fragment of your wisdom?"
All the Guardian present prepare to listen to the Overlord
"Sans was not the work of a single hand. He was wrought by six of us—myself, Ulbert, Perorinchino, Tabula Smaragdina, Touch Me… and his true creator, Gaster. Thus, what stands before Shalltear is not merely Sans. It is the judgment of all six Supreme Beings made manifest."
Shalltear really doesn't stand a chance against Sans in his second form. Normally, you're limited to one soul power — his default is blue, the control type. But once he transforms, he can access every soul power. That's only possible because we used one of the Twenty during his creation. Honestly, it's completely broken… not only does he get all the abilities, his mana cost is cut in half when using them.
"And as a Guardian shaped by the hands of all six of us, Sans was granted blessings—items and powers not merely for battle against foes such as Shalltear… but to ensure he could stand firm against even the most unfathomable threats within Nazarick itself."
A curve smile directed at the Overlord can be seen from the overseer
"As expected of your wisdom Ainz-sama. If you have declared his victory, then it must be so. Not even Shalltear, in all her might, could possibly oppose a being you acknowledge."
At the desk, Ainz's crimson flames within his sockets flared, burning brighter than before.
The execution of Shalltear Bloodfallen has began
♦ ♦ ♦
The silver mirror trembled faintly as the Guardians watched, capturing every detail of the unfolding spectacle.
"its a beautiful day outside. As usual. birds are singing, flowers are blooming... on days like this. monster like me."
Suddenly Sans's left socket flared with a blue flame, the iris ignited in a sharp yellow glow, signaling the imminence of Judgment, His right eye, in stark contrast, burned a deep crimson, saturated with unshakable determination. A relentless will of a fighter, who had resolved that no obstacle would sway him.
"Can't Afford Not To Care Anymore"
As he finished speaking he summon Gaster-Blaster that encircle Shalltear, with a snap of his fingers the blaster release a devastating beam that concentrated at Shalltear, with out a moment to last he then sent a barrage of bones at the position where Shalltear is located.
The destruction that follows left a huge crater and at the center of it all is Shalltear now fully equipped on her Valkyrie armor
(the wiki has no name about the armor of shalltear so i just name it Valkyrie armor)
"Hahaha… Sans, that really hurts." Shalltear's laughter rang hollow, her crimson eyes flashing.
"Heya, squirt," Sans said, voice calm but edged. "What happened to you? Someone brainwash you?"
"Fufufu… brainwash? And what makes you think that, Sans?" Shalltear's lips curled into a confident smile, though it didn't reach her eyes.
Her reaction only confirmed Sans's suspicion. Yeah… something definitely went wrong when they tried to control her.
"Then who's your boss now?" he asked, his sockets narrowing.
As if answering an obvious question, Shalltear scoffed. "Why, it's… it's… huh?"
Her voice faltered. Her mouth moved, but the words refused to form. A flicker of confusion crossed her face as she muttered to herself, Is it not Lord Ainz? Then… why can't I say it?
"What's wrong, pal?" Sans leaned forward, voice mocking. "Cat got your tongue? Or is it that you can't even say it?"
"I don't know what's going on… but since you attacked me, I'll going to kill you now, Sans."
Shalltear then lunged at Sans with inhuman speed. Her lance, aimed directly at the towering skeleton. In a flash, she drove the weapon toward his chest, every Guardian in the office stiffening as the mirror captured the precise moment of confrontation.
Sans' towering form swelled grotesquely, his skeletal frame expanding like a balloon about to burst. In an instant, the figure detonated into a cloud of bones and inky fragments. The explosion's echo thundered across the mirrored projection, stunning the Guardians watching in the office.
For a moment, silence reigned. Albedo rose halfway from her seat, Cocytus' claw tightened on his halberd, and Aura's eyes widened in disbelief. Even Demiurge's composed expression faltered ever so slightly.
Then—
From directly behind Shalltear, where only emptiness had been a moment before, a voice spoke with mocking venom, dripping arrogance into the air.
"Do you really think I'd just stand there and take a hit? You must be dumber than I thought."
The words carried both amusement and contempt. As Shalltear's eyes darted wide, her instincts screamed danger—because the voice belonged unmistakably to the same towering figure she had just struck down. Only now, it stood where she was earlier, his hand raised bath in blue flame.
Suddenly shalltear felt an intense force gripping her body through her armor, like her very soul is being held by it, then she was raised a few meters on ground and thrown to the tree line, creating a huge dust cloud where she crash.
///
Within the silent office the Guardians seated at the long wooden table collectively froze in shock. Aura gasped. Mare nearly spilled the staff he held. Even Cocytus leaned forward, mandibles clacking in disbelief.
Demiurge was the first to break the silence, adjusting his glasses as his sharp gaze lingered on the sight before them. His voice carried calm certainty, yet also deep curiosity.
"Could it be… an illusion? Or perhaps resurrection?"
Aura tilted her head, frowning as she watched the scene. Unlike Demiurge's composed tone, her words came out straightforward and childlike.
"No way… If it was resurrection, his body should've disappeared first. And an illusion wouldn't feel this real, right?"
beside Aura, mare nodded in agreement to her sister's reasoning
At his desk, Ainz steepled his fingers calmly, his crimson lights flickering with measured calculation. He let the Guardians' astonishment linger a moment before speaking, his deep voice filling the room.
"…What you just witnessed is not Sans' true defeat," Ainz said. "That was the effect of his world item—the Prismatic Mantle."
The Guardians turned their eyes to him, their confusion demanding answers.
"This item allows the user to create four perfect copies of themselves," Ainz explained, tone heavy with authority. "These illusions cannot inflict true damage, but they are indistinguishable from the original in form, aura, and behavior. When an enemy strikes them down, they suffers a consequence: a unique debuff called Karma."
His skeletal hand tapped against the desk for emphasis.
"For each copy destroyed, the debuff stacks—each stack increasing the user's damage against that foe by fifteen percent. Thus, every blow Shalltear strikes against the false Sans only strengthens the true one, an effective design for PvP" as he finished his explanation to the Guardian he weigh the cons and pros on the world item in his mind."
The cooldown for this skill is three days. In other words, he wouldn't be able to use it again right away after all copies are gone. Still, with each stack granting a ten percent boost, the effect isn't bad. But that wasn't what truly defined it as a World Item.
The Guardians' faces shifted from shock to awe. Demiurge adjusted his glasses, a sharp gleam crossing his eyes. Albedo's lips curled into a dangerous smile. Aura release a sigh of relief, while mare is still holding his staff tightly, with Cocytus mandibles clicked together.
In the mirror, a white projectile—PurifyingJavelin, can be seen leaving the dust cloud aiming for Sans, a magic circle appeared at his chest indicating where it will hit. as the Purifying Javeline struck Sans his body like before grow and exploded
In the mirror's glow, Shalltear's face twisted with fury. Her crimson eyes narrowed, fangs bared as divine energy coalesced in her grip. With a sharp cry, she conjured Purifying Javelin—a radiant spear of blinding brilliance—and hurled it with devastating force straight at Sans' towering figure.
The impact was immediate, engulfing him in a torrent of searing light. The ground split, the forest floor shattering beneath the holy strike. For a heartbeat, the Guardians watching from Ainz's office thought it had ended there.
But then—just as before—Sans' body ballooned grotesquely, bursting apart in a dazzling explosion of bone and cloak fragments. When the light faded, nothing but drifting particles remained.
From his seat at the desk, Ainz leaned forward slightly, the crimson flames in his eye sockets flickering with cold amusement. "…Again," he intoned, his voice steady and calculated. "Another copy. Another wasted strike."
The silver mirror shimmered as Sans' voice, dripping with disdain, echoed from the battlefield
""Wow… twice now, huh? Guess killing me isn't really your thing. Don't worry, third time's the charm—at least, that's what they say."
Above the battlefield, Shalltear's crimson eyes flared with rage, her wings spreading wide as she prepared to soar skyward and hunt down the elusive skeleton who mocked her. But before she could rise even a few meters, the air itself seemed to warp.
A weight unlike anything she had felt before pressed down on her body, her wings snapping shut against her back. The ground cracked beneath her as she was forced down with the side of her head planted to the ground, her face lace with distain for the humiliation
Her voice came out strained, fangs bared in fury. "W-what… is this?!
From the shadows nearby, Sans' distorted voice echoed, laced with mocking amusement.
"heh. you thought you were gonna fly away, sorry… i don't play tag."
///
In Ainz's office, the Guardians stiffened at the sight. Even Albedo's eyes widened as the silver mirror trembled slightly, reflecting the moment Shalltear was pinned. The aura was foreign—nothing resembling any spell they knew of Nazarick.
Demiurge voice low with intrigue."...That isn't simple gravity magic,"
Ainz leaned back in his chair, crimson pinpricks glowing in his sockets as he quietly analyzed the scene. He folded his bony fingers together, the crimson glow in his eye sockets steady as he spoke in his calm, instructive tone:
"Soul Magic was a system introduced late in Yggdrasil's life, but it came too late. By the time it was released, the decline of the game had already begun, and so very few players ever truly explored it like Gaster. Soul Magic follows the same principles as any other—drawing upon mana—but it exists outside the categories of tier magic, forming its own separate branch.
There are seven types of SOULs. Among them are the active types: Blue, which control the soul; Cyan, which reduces speed; and Green, which can form barriers or heal. Then, there are the active-passive types: Orange, which empowers melee attacks with explosive force; Purple, which grants damage reduction usable on oneself or allies; Yellow, which enhances precision and accuracy in ranged attacks; and Red, which augments weapon strikes and improves agility overall."
Demiurge adjusted his glasses, his smile thoughtful, before asking:
"Then why are they called active-passive powers, my lord?"
Inside the quiet office, the guardians leaned forward at Demiurge's inquiry, eyes still fixed on the silver mirror as Sans and Shalltear's battle raged on. Ainz folded his bony fingers together, his crimson lights glowing faintly in the sockets of his skull as he explained in his calm, instructive tone:
"Active-passive powers are given that title because they blur the line between constant enhancement and direct activation. Normally, active powers demand a clear expenditure of mana—such as Purifying Javelin, which requires preparation and casting. Passive abilities, on the other hand, are innate effects—like my Negative Energy Touch, which inflicts necrotic harm without any consumption of mana.
However, soul magic rewrites that rule. The so-called active-passive types are not truly passive; they function as ongoing enchantments that consume a steady drain of mana to maintain. Take the Red SOUL as an example: each strike of a weapon is unnaturally sharpened, swifter, more destructive. But for every empowered swing, mana is consumed—creating the illusion of a passive ability, when in truth it is constant activation.
The same principle applies to Orange, Purple, and Yellow. Their power appears natural, but it is fueled by a stream of energy feeding into every strike, every defense, every shot."
He leaned back, letting his words sink in, the reflection of Sans' shifting form still glowing in the mirror.
"Thus, they are called active-passive—because they are neither purely passive, nor do they require the same ritualized activation of tiered spells. They are perpetual engines of expenditure, a gamble between raw strength and the mana reserves of the wielder.
Neither the less souls magic are better at one thing, they don't require cast time.
The guardians sat silently, weighing the implications, realizing that what they were watching in the mirror was not just a duel—but a display of a long-forgotten system of magic buried within Yggdrasil's history.
Still bound by the crushing force, Shalltear's furious eyes locked on Sans, a few meters in font of her
"Let's see if you can survive this," his voice echoed, sharp and unrelenting.
In an instant, jagged ivory bones erupted from the ground, piercing some of her limbs and Restricting her movements even further. Then the bones coiled tight, leaving her body straining against their grip.
Before she could wrestle free, a surge of overwhelming energy flooded the air. From above, the sky cracked open in a circle of ominous light as countless Gaster-Blasters materialized, surrounding her on all sides. Their hollow jaws opened wide, beams of destructive energy charging as they fixed upon her helpless figure.
A second later, the beams converged, the devastating light descending upon her—yet just before the attack could land, the invisible force pinning Shalltear shattered, releasing her from its grasp.
Acting on instinct, Shalltear invoked teleportation, her body flickering into streaks of light—only to be partially too late. The blast erupted at the same moment, engulfing her in searing destruction. She reappeared meters away, but half her body bore the brunt of the explosion, her armor scorched and cracked, flesh hissing under the residual energy.
Sans stepped out of the shadows, the glow of his eye burning with cold fury as his voice rumbled through the air like a storm.
"Surrender now squirt, you can't beat me, half of your hp is gone and so are your armor"
Suddenly shalltear smirk as the damage to her and her armor fixed it self, like turning back time the damage was now gone
"Neat trick, say wanna see mine"
"huh?"
Sans then summon a meter long bone on her right hand
"Now you see me, now you don't"
Suddenly the whole reality seemingly blink and Sans disappear from his position, and from shalltear side a voice called out;
"Go far squirt"
San then use the bone, now covered with orange flame like aura, as a bat and smack shalltear with explosive force, the impact hit her so hard she fall unconscious for a moment, when she woke up she was still flying until she hit the ground which cause her to cough up blood.
////
"Ainz-sama," Demiurge's voice cut through the silence, calm yet edged with curiosity.
"What is it, Demiurge?"
"Forgive my interruption, my lord, but I cannot ignore this anomaly. Sans' Gaster Blaster should, by all calculations, possess destructive power equivalent to a 7th-tier spell. With the amplification granted by his World Item, it might barely ascend to the 8th tier. Furthermore, even with the thirty percent boost enhancing his own attacks, such force should not be possible. And yet—" Demiurge's eyes glinted as he adjusted his glasses, "the damage inflicted was closer to that of a 10th-tier spell. Both Shalltear's armor and body have been compromised in ways that should not occur under such conditions."
"That is because of Sans' own passive skill, [Soul Corruption]. Whenever Sans attacks an enemy, this ability activates and inflicts lingering damage upon them. While the initial strike should only reach the level of an 8th-tier spell, the passive effect ignores fifty percent of the enemy's defenses. That is why it inflicted such severe harm on Shalltear. Against Sans, her armor may as well be worthless."
"Your brilliance knows no equal, Ainz-sama. I am grateful for your insight."
////
Kneeling on the ground, she struggled to collect her thoughts.
"Wh-what was that…? I didn't sense any magic… that damn skeleton just vanished, then appeared at my side—" She coughed, blood spilling from her lips, her head still ringing from the blow. Only now did she notice the small puddle forming beneath her.
"Tch… I can't even land a hit. That skill of his twists everything against me… I can't even follow his movements…" Her crimson eyes burned with rage. "But there has to be a way. If I time my counters right… if I drain him the moment he slips—"
She dug her nails into the ground and forced herself up. "No… I won't fall here. Next time, Sans… I'll crush your bones and drink the marrow from your spine."
Her body struggled to heal, regeneration burning through her stamina. The Gaster-Blasters had already cut her HP in half, but even as her wounds closed.
As she was muttering to herself, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed beyond the veil of smoke left by her crash. A voice followed, calm but mocking:
"Catch."
A projectile shot through the air, tearing the smoke apart and exposing the storm of bones with yellow aura rushing straight toward her.
"Negative Impact Shield!" Thinking quickly, she summoned her defense.
The barrage of bones struck her shield, breaking it apart and hitting Shalltear head-on.
Before the bones hit, Shalltear turned into mist and slipped past the storm. She changed back a few meters away from the barrage.
He noticed Sans still standing in the same spot, facing where she had been moments ago. Taking the chance, Shalltear prepared to strike—only to stop when she saw his stance, his just standing there Menacingly
"Heh… I really thought you'd do it," Sans voice echo through the field, sitting lazily on a boulder, a bored look on his face.
"You are really powerful, Sans," Shalltear admitted. First, she called forth her mana essence, Then, without pause, she invoked life essence.
/\\//\\//\\//\
◇ Status ◇
Sans Wingding
HP: 20,000 / 20,000
MP: 100,300 / 120,000
/\\//\\//\\//\
"Tsk…" Shalltear grimaced. "Even after everything, he still had so much mana left." but what stung more, however, was the simple truth—not once had she managed to land a single blow on him.
then she turn her eyes over to the other Sans that is just standing, and use mana essence on him
/\\//\\//\\//\
◇ Status ◇
Sans Wingding
HP: 20,000 / 20,000
MP: 100,300 / 120,000
/\\//\\//\\//\
"Who's your friend, Sans?" Shalltear asked, her eyes narrowing. "Aww… did no one talk to you, so you made a clone of yourself? That's just sad, Sans." I just need to stall for a couple seconds… enough to heal fully.
"That's okay, Shalltear," Sans replied calmly. "I'll give you a couple seconds to rest."
It was clear he was reading her like an open book. With a lazy wave of his hand, the clone shimmered with light—then vanished without a trace.
Confused by Sans' words, she gritted her teeth, her gaze drilling into the skeleton.
"You're making fun of me!? You think I need your pity!?"
Blinded by rage, she hurled a Purifying Javelin at Sans, who was still sitting casually on the boulder, utterly unfazed. Just as before, Sans simply exploded, leaving nothing but an empty space where he had been.
Another Sans appeared on the other side, opening his mouth to speak, but before he could say a word, a massive pillar of flame engulfed him.
"You really don't like to use your head that much, huh?" Sans called out, hovering in the air, hands in his pockets.
"Last chance—surrender and tell me who did this, or you're going to have a BAD TIME."
Shalltear's eyes widened. Shock and fury ran through her as she gripped her lance tightly. "Impossible… How—how are you doing this!?" Her voice cracked, but her crimson gaze burned with determination. "I won't… I can't lose to you…SAAANNNNSSS…!"
She surged forward, lance aimed directly at Sans.
Sans' left eye socket flared blue. "SPACE LOCK."
Just as Shalltear's lance was about to strike, the world blink again, then Sans vanished. Remembering what had happened before, she immediately blocked to her right using her lance as shield. A split second later, the same exploding force slammed into her. She was sent flying, but this time she anticipated it and held herself together.
Hovering in the air, she saw multiple Gaster-Blasters scattered around her, all targeting her. She dodged and weaved, flying as they fired relentlessly.
Suddenly, several bone pillars erupted from the ground, aiming straight at her. As she moved to destroy them, the same binding force froze her, and the pillars struck her, stunning her for a moment.
A voice echoed from above. She looked up and saw Sans, with a huge bone in his right hand glowing orange. Without warning, he he swung it down at her, slamming her into the ground and creating another massive crater.
"I said it already. No tag"
Sans landed softly at the rim of the crater, dust curling around his feet. As the smoke thinned, his sockets narrowed. Two Shalltears stood before him. One draped in crimson… the other pure white, her presence surrounded by a host of shadow-born beasts—rodents, wolves, and screeching bats that slithered in and out of the gloom.
"…So, guess it's time to get serious too, huh?" Sans muttered, voice dry but edged with caution.
The white Shalltear surged forward, Spuit Lance gleaming as it aimed straight for his skull.
Fifteen inches.
Ten inches.
Five.
One—
Then the world blinked.
In the instant before steel could pierce bone, Sans vanished, space twisting around him. He reappeared a breath away, his escape cut so close it was like dodging death itself.
In the distance, just a few meters from Shalltear, Sans raised his hand. A faint hum filled the air as a half-meter hilt flickered into existence within his grip. A heartbeat later, a meter-long crimson blade erupted from it, its glow painting the smoke and rubble in shades of blood-red.
"…Heh." His sockets narrowed, voice low and steady. "Let's see how long you can keep this up."
The sword pulsed with power, resonating with the crackle of his soul. The shadows around Shalltear hissed at its presence, beasts growling as if they could sense the danger radiating from the weapon itself.
/////
In the office, Cocytus's mandibles parted, a faint mist escaping as his eyes locked on the crimson blade reflected in the silver mirror.
"C–Can't be…!?"
Aura, hearing the rare tremor in his voice, tilted her head in confusion.
"What's wrong, Cocytus? Do you know what kind of weapon Sans just brought out?"
The insectoid warrior's tone was low, but heavy with recognition.
"That red blade… it is the Crimson Verdict. A World Item. Its strength grows endlessly as the battle continues. But its curse is dire—it twists its wielder. First, it feeds them with insatiable battle-hunger… and then, it drives them into berserk madness."
Demiurge adjusted his glasses, a spark of interest in his eyes as he began to speak.
"Hmm… hearing the cost of wielding such a weapon, one would assume—"
But Cocytus cut him off, his breath hissing with another plume of frost.
"Crimson Verdict."
Demiurge's eyes narrowed, acknowledging the interruption before continuing.
"Yes… thank you, Cocytus. But that raises the question. Would Sans himself not fall victim to such curses? In a battle where clarity of mind is essential, wouldn't Crimson Verdict become… a liability, especially when facing two Shalltears?"
"…No."
The single word, spoken in that hollow, commanding voice, drew every Guardian's attention. The silver mirror's glow reflected faintly across Ainz's skeletal visage, his empty sockets betraying nothing.
Demiurge immediately bowed his head.
"Please… enlighten us, Ainz-sama."
Ainz shifted slightly on chair, his bony fingers tapping against the desk. Inside, his mind raced for an explanation that would maintain his image of absolute wisdom. But outwardly, his tone remained steady, deliberate.
"Crimson Verdict does indeed carry such curses. But in Sans's case… they are meaningless. We designed him with certain safeguards. His indolence—his tendency toward sloth—was not an accident. It is his nature. A being who avoids exertion cannot be consumed by endless battle-hunger."
The Guardians nodded slowly, awe in their eyes.
"And more importantly…" Ainz raised a hand slightly, his voice firm, "…he is undead. A skeleton. The berserk effect holds no sway over one who has no pulse, no living rage to twist. Even when wielding Crimson Verdict, Sans will not lose himself."
Silence filled the chamber, the Guardians visibly impressed at their master's foresight.
/////
Einherjar then rush again on Sans, this time Einherjar stopped on its track, confused it's eyes looked at Sans raised hand bathed in familiar blue flame, before she was thrown in the sky, he look at the real shalltear stabbing her her own household. Resulting in not hitting sans because of his dodges shalltear goes to the route of friendly fire.
Sans tilted his skull, sockets dim with a smug glow."heh… wow. never thought I'd see the day you'd put the stake through your own family."
He took a single step forward—then froze. A familiar pressure coiled around his very soul, a sensation he hadn't felt in what seemed like ages. His gaze shifted instinctively toward the treeline, searching for the source. But before he could probe further, a flash of silver interrupted him—Einherjar's lance cut toward his skull.
Sans jerked back, abandoning the thread of that ominous presence. The clone pressed its assault relentlessly, each strike met with a lazy sway of his body or the crimson edge of the Verdict. Yet even as he parried and weaved, his eyes kept sliding back toward the trees. The distraction gnawed at him.
"Tch…"
Annoyance finally won out. The air itself warped as he muttered a command—and the world obeyed. Time blinked. In an instant he was above Einherjar, his left hand aglow with a fierce orange aura. He brought it down, slamming the clone's back into the earth. The ground spiderwebbed beneath the impact.
A brief stun. That was all he needed.
The Crimson Verdict rose high, its blade shrouded in a seething red aura, before crashing down at Einherjar's neck like a guillotine. The clone staggered, grievously wounded—only for three Gaster-Blasters to materialize and finish the job in a thunderous blaze of light.
The dust cleared. Einherjar was gone. And across the crater stood Shalltear, body whole, eyes gleaming—restored and ready for another round.
Sans exhaled through his teeth, resting the crimson blade against his shoulder."…Yeah. Think we've hit the point."
His sockets narrowed. This fight had served its purpose. It was time to end it.
//////
Earlier, before the battle—Ainz's office.
The Overlord sat at his desk, crimson points of light staring across at the skeleton floor guardian. Sans stood silently, hands shoved in his pockets, head lowered, the shadows hiding half his face.
"Sans…" Ainz's voice carried both command and regret. "I don't want this. You and Shalltear fighting—it should be my responsibility. My punishment, for not considering the possibility of world items in this new world."
Sans exhaled, his tone low and heavy.
"…I don't wanna kill her either, boss. But if me stepping back means you get hurt, or worse—walk into a trap—that's a bigger risk. And… a guilt I couldn't live with."
Ainz's fingers tightened on the armrest of his chair.
"…Sans."
Hearing the skeleton's resolve only deepened the weight in Ainz's chest. He couldn't help but feel like a failure—as a Guild master, as a Creator, as a leader. To put Sans in a position where he might have to kill his own colleague just to protect him… it was a bitter truth that gnawed at the very core of his being.
After this battle… I must speak with him. The burden of killing a fellow Guardian could crush even him, no matter how he hides it.
"Don't worry about it, boss." Sans looked up slightly, his sockets dim with determination. "I'll make it quick—before anyone else shows up."
Ainz shook his head. "No, Sans. I need the opposite. Prolong the battle. Show your strength. We must lure out any enemies watching from the shadows."
A pause—then a faint smirk curled across Sans's face.
"…you got it, boss."
/////
Back turned to the vampire, Sans spoke—his voice calm, almost subdued:
"Shalltear… it's time to end this."
Shalltear, still fixated on the towering titan before her, braced herself for the strike she thought would come head-on. But in the next instant, Sans's figure blurred—like a mirage in the desert—vanishing from her sight.
A shiver crawled up her spine. Then, without warning, agony tore through her body. From back to chest, the Crimson Verdict pierced through, the blade forcing its way outward like a jagged stalagmite breaking through stone—merciless, unyielding, unstoppable.
The weapon was fully embedded in her body when Sans invoked its skills: [Battle Cry] and [Gluttony].
[Battle Cry]—a surge of force that magnified his next strike beyond its natural limits.[Gluttony]—the cursed hunger of the blade, drinking in every drop of blood it touched, storing that essence to be unleashed as a devastating, inescapable projectile.
With [Battle Cry] amplifying it, the draining force of [Gluttony] grew overwhelming, the sword greedily siphoning her life to fuel a single, monstrous attack.
He hurled Shalltear far enough to avoid being caught in the strike. Both hands gripped the hilt as he raised the Crimson Verdict high above his head, then brought it down in a single devastating arc. Like sharpened obsidian tearing through paper, the blade carved through everything in its path, the slash stretching twenty meters long. Within that span, nothing remained untouched—Shalltear included.
Sans glanced at the crimson blade, its aura still faintly pulsing from the last attack. He muttered under his breath, almost as if speaking to himself.
"…Cooldown's an hour, huh? Heh… guess I've stalled long enough."
He rested the weapon against his shoulder, a faint grin tugging at his face.
"…It's ready."
The body collapsed, blood soaking into the earth—yet silence did not linger. Her remains shimmered faintly, dissolving into a mist of crimson and white. From that haze, her form slowly rebuilt itself, bone knitting, flesh restoring, garments reweaving. A low, chilling laugh echoed as the last fragments of ash reformed into the vampire once more—whole, pristine, and grinning.
"What's wrong, Sans? You look surprised. Did you forget that death is nothing more than a nap for me?"
Shalltear, a confident smirk plaster in her face check Sans mana again
/\\//\\//\\//\
◇ Status ◇
Sans Wingding
HP: 20,000 / 20,000
MP: 20,300 / 120,000
/\\//\\//\\//\
"HAHAHAHAHAHA…! You're running dry, Sans! That mana of yours won't last forever. All that blinking, all that dodging—it's nothing but waste! Even the way you tugged at my strings reeks of a caster's tricks. Blade or no blade, you can't hide what you are—you're still just a spell-flinger in disguise!"
"Say… what do you think of that spell I used earlier?"
"Spell?" Shalltear's brows furrowed, confusion flashing across her face. She tried to recall—there was a moment, when she had charged at Sans, she heard him mutter something under his breath… but nothing seemed to happen at the time.
What spell did he cast… what was the name again…?
"It's called Space Lock. Know what that means?" Sans' voice was calm, almost casual, but the weight behind it pressed on her. "It means you're not running anywhere, not blinking, not escaping. This place is locked down—just you and me, 'til the end."
He tilted his skull slightly, a faint grin forming. "Want me to show you? I tried this new trick on a certain flower back home—" His sockets flared with blue light. "SPACE LOCK: BIND!"
The world halted. Time itself seemed to hold its breath, listening to the titan's command. Reality blinked—yet this time, it wasn't Sans who vanished.
It was Shalltear.
She reappeared high above the battlefield, suspended in the air and dozens of Gaster Blasters lock on her, their jaws wide, their cores glowing with deadly light.
Her heart jolted. No—! With only a pitiful fragment of mana left, she scraped it together, forcing out one last teleportation spell. Her body shimmered, slipping away just before the beams could fire.
For an instant, hope flared.
But then, the world blinked again.
And she was back—dragged mercilessly to the exact same spot, the blasters still trained on her, their light swelling brighter, hotter, inescapable.
Shalltear's eyes widened in disbelief. That single desperate spell had been wasted. She had no mana left to resist, no strength to dodge—nothing.
The storm of annihilating beams fell upon her, drowning her in merciless light.
The barrage ceased at last, the blazing light fading—but not without cost. Shalltear staggered, her body trembling, her HP nearly carved in half.
I can still win… one strike… just one strike!
Clutching her lance, she grit her teeth and dove, a crimson comet streaking down from the heavens. Every ounce of her remaining strength was poured into this final assault, her eyes locked on the skeleton below.
If she could land this blow, victory would be hers.
But just as the point of her weapon was about to meet him—
Reality blinked.
And the world shifted once again.
Shalltear found herself suspended in the air, surrounded by dozens of glowing blue bones hovering like executioner's blades.
The command was given.
They shot forward all at once, piercing through her without mercy—armor, lance, even her desperate guard meant nothing. Each strike bypassed her defenses, striking directly at the core of her being.
Before she could even breathe again—
Reality blinked.
She was plummeting from the sky, her body intact, her armor unmarred… but her soul screamed in agony. Fatigue gripped her limbs like chains. She spread her wings to stabilize herself, only for a colossal pillar of bone to erupt from the ground, slamming into her already weakened form.
And then—
Reality blinked again.
Now she was standing on the ground, wide-eyed, just in time to see another bone pillar crash down on her.
Blink.
She was still flying from the first attack—only this time, a dozen bones lanced into her path, meeting her midair with relentless force.
Blink.
At last, she was back where it all began—trapped in the suffocating circle of Gaster Blasters. Her body battered, her mana drained, no path left to run. She understood then: there would be no escape.
And so, with a faint, almost serene smile, Shalltear embraced death—not with fear, but as one might embrace a child, tender and inevitable.
The execution of Shalltear BloodFallen is done
♦ ♦ ♦
Sans' towering form loomed as the only figure left in the barren wasteland. Where once a forest stood, there was now nothing but a scarred field, littered with craters and shattered bones. Slowly, he raised his hand, cloaked in blue flame—and with a single pull, dragged a struggling figure from the treeline, voices cried out in desperation, shattering the silence that followed.
"LAKYUS!!"
"Lakyus-sama!!"
"Let her go!"
"Damn it, no! Lakyus!!"