Slane Theocracy — Holy Capital
Deep within the central cathedral lay a chamber that had not been opened to outsiders for generations.
This was the Council Hall—the place where the fate of humanity was weighed, rewritten, and sometimes quietly erased.
Twelve figures took their seats.
The High Priest, bearer of the will of the Six Gods.
The Six Chief Priests, each presiding over a divine domain.
Three senior ministers—Judiciary, Administration, and Legislation.
The Minister of Magic, custodian of arcane knowledge.
And finally, the Grand Marshal, commander of all armed forces.
After ritual cleansing and silent prayer, the meeting began.
At the center stood Raymond, Chief Priest of Earth.
He distributed copies of a thick blueprint and several documents to every seat.
"Gentlemen," Raymond began calmly,
"The Sunlight Scripture's ambush against the Kingdom's Warrior Captain, Gazef Stronoff, has failed. The unit was annihilated, save for its captain."
Murmurs spread.
"However," Raymond continued,
"That failure revealed two individuals of extreme importance."
"One is a mysterious magic caster calling himself Ainz Ooal Gown, responsible for the destruction of the Sunlight Scripture."
"And the other—"
He paused.
"—is the Kingdom's border baron: Lock Kote Albert."
Several brows furrowed.
The name was unfamiliar.
Raymond continued, "While his name may not be well known, his sister, Catherine Cort Albert, the Starlight Witch, certainly is."
Recognition spread instantly.
"After direct engagement," Raymond said gravely,
"I can confirm that Baron Lock is a magic caster no weaker than the Starlight Witch—possibly stronger."
Silence fell.
The Chief Priest of Wind spoke first.
"So the Sunlight Scripture failed because of him?"
"No," Raymond replied.
"They failed because of Ainz Ooal Gown. Baron Lock intervened afterward—saving Nigun—and through that contact, reached out to us."
A stir of disbelief.
"A Kingdom noble aiding the Theocracy?"
Raymond nodded.
"He did not act for the Kingdom. He acted because of the centennial event."
The word centennial froze the room.
"…Explain," the High Priest said.
"Baron Lock warned us that the cycle has begun again," Raymond said.
"And this time, the invaders are numerous, unified, and hostile to humanity."
"And your proof?"
Raymond took a breath.
"Using the World Item keisei keikoku, we controlled a being from that group—a True Ancestor Vampire."
Gasps followed.
"That vampire annihilated nearly the entire Black Scripture."
The Grand Marshal stiffened.
"From her," Raymond continued,
"We learned of a place called the Great Tomb of Nazarick, ruled by a magic caster named Ainz Ooal Gown. The vampire was only one of many beings of similar power."
The room fell into absolute silence.
Finally, the High Priest spoke.
"…Then humanity stands on the brink."
Raymond nodded.
"Baron Lock believes so. And he has proposed cooperation."
He gestured to the blueprints.
"These plans describe a large-scale structure capable of systematically elevating human potential—magic, infrastructure, and population protection."
The council examined the diagrams.
After a long pause, the High Priest asked,
"How reliable is this?"
"Based on my investigation," Raymond replied,
"There is an eighty percent probability that Baron Lock's methods are real."
"Then proceed," the High Priest said slowly.
"Prepare as he requests—but analyze everything independently. We do not surrender initiative."
"Yes."
"For the survival of humanity," the High Priest concluded.
Outskirts of E-Rantel
Ainz walked alone.
No guardians.
No attendants.
No witnesses.
Only a skeletal figure advancing across the wilderness toward a crimson-dressed girl standing motionless beneath the night sky.
This is a mistake, Ainz thought.
Yet he continued.
Shalltear had been abandoned here, controlled by an enemy using a World Item.
If left unattended, she would be interrogated. Exposed. Turned into a weapon against Nazarick.
He could not allow that.
But why had they left her here?
Bait?
A trap?
Or a test?
Ainz's anxiety spiraled.
He had sent Aura and Mare to guard the surroundings.
World Items were prepared.
Yet his unease did not fade.
"…I won't let Nazarick fight itself," he murmured.
On the Road to the Royal Capital
Inside a luxurious carriage, Lock leaned back comfortably.
Before him floated a clear, layered image of the battlefield—captured through the Demon God's Eye, untouched by countermeasures or concealment.
He sipped iced water.
Grilled meat rested nearby.
"Tsk… tsk…" Lock chuckled softly.
"No matter the world, Old Bones never stops fighting imaginary enemies."
Ainz appeared in the image—alone.
Lock's smile widened.
"This is the good part."
As Ainz raised both arms, magic surged violently around him.
A voice echoed across the plains.
"Super-Tier Magic — Fallen."
Lock leaned forward slightly.
"Action."
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