Their hands, men and women alike, had been nailed to trees. They seemed to have frantically tried to escape the fear, which left their arms covered in blood.
The subhumans must have tried to make a barricade out of humans.
They were slumped and exhausted, as well as emaciated, but there didn’t seem to be any immediate threat to their lives.
The point of this raid was to save people. Even if Neia followed the king, she couldn’t do anything. So staying back to help these people and get them to a safe place seemed like the right course of action. But one thing worried her.
What would she do if they were attacked by subhumans during the evacuation?
Ha. Why am I hesitating? Our commander would just save them. If I can’t do that… It really all comes down to…power, doesn’t it?
“You’re unsure. Then let’s just leave them for now. There don’t seem to be any subhumans around here. They’ll probably be safer here. Let’s go!”
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
Though slightly reluctant, Neia followed the king to the square. She didn’t understand how he knew the way, but she figured he must have been using some magic or something.
Soon they came upon the square, which was like a marketplace at the heart of intersecting roads.
“Mm. So we weren’t able to get through this without any sacrifices.”
When she turned toward where he was looking, she saw that there were human corpses mixed in with the subhuman dead. They must have been trampled in the panic caused by the fear.
“…It couldn’t have been helped.” Neia figured he was joking, but if they had brute forced their way into the city, there would have been far more losses. All things considered, the taking of the city with the king’s overwhelming power had probably kept sacrifices to a minimum.
He shrugged slightly without saying anything and then gestured with his chin toward the center of the square.
The subhuman there was larger than all the others.
He had the curled horns of a goat and silver body hair. His impressive physique made him look like someone it would be wise not to mess with.
The ends of his horns were encased in ornate golden caps set with jewels, and he wore a green breastplate with a turtle-shell-esque pattern. Wrapped in a rust-red cape that seemed to be made out of processed animal fur, he carried a large shield set with two large yellow jewels in the center with his left hand and a bastard sword with a faintly yellow blade with his right. He was the embodiment of an imposing warrior’s brave spirit.
He was one of those most fearsome subhumans—one with training. And he was probably a king or had some other sort of comparable standing.
If Neia had been alone, she would have definitely run away.
“Hmm, hmm, I’m exceedingly curious which item is suppressing his fear.”
The King of Darkness’s amused remark must have referred to not only the subhuman’s armor and weapons but also the rings on his fingers, the necklace that covered everything from his neck down to his chest, and maybe the accessories hanging from each hip that were made from what seemed to be three human baby skulls each.
The subhuman, watching the King of Darkness with his green eyes, glared at Neia once they approached.
“A new undead challenger and behind him…a necromancer?” Partially concealed behind his large shield, he was most likely on guard against eye-based attacks that monsters like medusas had. “You’re no slouch, coming into this city and driving my tribe this far into a corner… Wielder of horrifying magic and manipulator of the enemies of all living things, let’s hear your name.” The bufolk pointed his sword at Neia.
“N-no, hold on. You’re wrong. It’s not me!”
“…What?”
When she looked to the King of Darkness for help, he put a hand to his chest and looked back at her.
“I’m impressed you could tell. Yes, this is my master.”
“N-no! P-please wait a second! Your Majesty!”
What is he talking about? He really has no sense for jokes.
As Neia flailed around in a panic, he smiled at her.
“Hmm. Feeling better?”
“Huh?”
“Okay, that was a stupid joke.” With a motion befitting a king, he flapped his cape and faced the subhuman. “I’m the one who sent the undead after you. I’m an undead ruler, Ainz Ooal Gown, King of Darkness, from the country northeast of here, the Nation of Darkness. What’s your name?”
“I’m Buser, Mighty King Buser… Tell me, King of Darkness, what is that girl for?”
“She’s my servant. So what’s your deal? Do you want to be killed? Or do you want to throw yourself at my feet? I’ll let you choose whichever you like better.”
“On my honor as a king, I say bending the knee one time is plenty.”
Buser held his sword across the front of his shield. He slowly curled his body into a stance that pointed his horns forward like a goat’s.
“Hmm… Then I’ll play with you a bit. Miss Baraja, you can just watch. By the way, you goat. You seem to have a lot of enchanted items equipped, but I don’t sense any magic from those accessories at your hips. Are they special in some way?”
“Hoh-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! It’s called fashion, you bag of bones.”
“Hmm… You remind me of a subordinate of mine.”
Listening to their conversation from behind him, Neia was shocked to think he had a subordinate like that.
“They’re nicely shaped, don’t you think? I selected these exquisite pieces with utmost care from my pickings in this city.”
“…Ah. I see. I understand how you feel. Fashion is apparently quite important. My maids drove that point home for me… Now then, let’s begin. Create Greater Item.”
When the King of Darkness cast the spell, a black sword appeared in his hands.
Why is His Majesty using a weapon?
He was an arcane caster—and a supremely adept one at that.
That meant normally he would only use a weapon if he was stuck in a fight without enough mana. Some arcane casters didn’t even carry a weapon simply because they were
