Reborn as an NPC in the Great Tomb of Nazarick

The skies above blazed with hues of deep orange and crimson, the fading sunlight casting long shadows over the earth below. Hovering silently in the cooling air were two figures, their presence unearthly and imposing as they overlooked Carne Village.

Nestled at the edge of the Great Forest of Tob, the village clung to life in symbiosis with the wilderness, reliant on the rare herbs and resources the forest provided throughout the seasons. Its houses, built from weathered stone bricks and wood, were draped with creeping moss and vines, giving the settlement an air of quiet age and humility.

Wooden and hay rooftops sloped unevenly, some patched haphazardly with mismatched planks, and chimneys reached skyward like silent sentinels. Yet, instead of the comforting wisps of smoke from hearth fires, the smoke now rising into the reddened sky came from flames devouring several scattered homes.

The fires burned with a cruel purpose, set as a warning—an example of merciless authority.

Thoth gazed down at the scene, his expression carved in regal calm. Yet, his wings betrayed him. The countless crimson eyes embedded within the dark feathers narrowed in unison, their shared displeasure radiating like a physical force.

The young Guardian said nothing, but his silence carried weight. The glow of his ruby irises intensified faintly, illuminating the faint contours of his marble-white skin in the waning light.

The sight below was a tapestry of horror, each detail painting a grim picture that churned Thoth's thoughts into a storm of emotion.

'Fucking hell…' His mind seethed with a mix of disgust and righteous fury as he stared at the scene.

The soldiers had gathered the surviving villagers in a rough square at the village's center. Scattered around the periphery were bodies—men and women who had likely resisted, their defiance snuffed out with swift, brutal efficiency. But it was the children that left the sharpest knife twisting in Thoth's gut. Tiny bodies lay discarded like butchered animals, gutted and left to dry in the sun-baked dirt of the streets.

Thoth clenched his jaw, trying—and failing—to suppress the instinctive grinding of his teeth. The many eyes on his wings shifted their focus, some glancing toward him with a softening gaze, as though mirroring his internal turmoil. Yet a few remained locked on the soldiers below, their piercing stares filled with silent judgment.

Beside him, Ainz observed the unfolding scene, his glowing crimson orbs unflinching. His thoughts were colder, more calculated.

'Curious,' Ainz mused, analyzing the situation with the detached efficiency of a strategist. 'They didn't kill all the villagers. Are these people hostages? But for what reason? Was this not merely a raid for resources and slaves?'

The possibilities churned in his mind, but the answers eluded him. He simply didn't have enough information.

What Ainz did know, however, was far more important.

'We are stronger.'

The thought settled in his mind like an immutable truth. The soldiers hadn't even noticed them hovering above, hidden by a simple [Invisibility] spell.

'They can't detect us, which means they're of no real value in terms of combat ability,' Ainz concluded. 'Insignificant as fighters—but the information they might hold is significant.'

Resolved, Ainz turned to address his companion.

"Tho—" Ainz began, but the words caught in his throat as he turned to Thoth.

The younger Guardian's crystalline red eyes shimmered like cracked jewels, brimming with an intensity that intimidated Ainz into momentary silence. Thoth had activated [Eyes of Pride], though for what purpose, Ainz could not fathom.

But that wasn't all.

From the back of Thoth's lower legs and arms, black tendrils began to emerge, tearing through the fabric of his pants and shirt in a fluid, almost organic motion. These living spikes writhed and coiled like sentient tendrils as they crawled along Thoth's clothing. Their sharp, gleaming skin caught the faint light, and their metallic surface shimmered faintly, pulsing with four veins of crimson that seemed to ebb and flow like molten energy.

Though small and thin compared to his massive wings, these living extensions carried an equally foreboding aura. They shifted and twisted with quiet, unsettling grace, as though alive with some unspoken intent. Their skin morphed into sharp tips that flexed and curled, occasionally striking the air with whip-like precision.

Each motion seemed deliberate, yet unpredictably erratic, as though they were testing their surroundings—or eagerly anticipating conflict.

Thoth turned to face Ainz, the storm in his mind veiled beneath a thin veneer of composure. His voice, though steady, was strained, as though every word required a conscious effort to push past the anger swirling within.

"Is something the matter?" Thoth asked, his tone betraying nothing of the turmoil behind his marble-like visage.

Thoth glanced at the dark tendrils, only now noticing them.

'What the fuck?!' he immediately screamed to himself, confused more than disgusted.

It was a strange feeling, much like his wings, he knew that these things were a part of him. Had he still been human, he would have freaked out and screamed in terror.

'Couldn't you have shown up with a warning? I nearly jumped out of my skin!'

As Thoth spoke to himself and the tendrils settled around his arms and legs, Ainz looked at Thoth.

Ainz studied him, perplexed. 'Why did he activate [Limbs of Wrath]? What enraged him?' he wondered. 'Did the scene below affect him so? But doesn't he view humans as lesser beings?'

As Ainz sifted through his knowledge and observations, a realization struck him.

'Ah, I see!' he thought. 'His lore describes him as having been oppressed and used by his former master. Seeing this act of cruelty and tyranny must remind him of those times. It makes sense that he'd react strongly to something so personal.'

Though not entirely certain, Ainz felt the explanation fit well enough. After all, even a negative one-hundred-karma NPC like Thoth wouldn't necessarily revel in human suffering. Such a karmic alignment is often manifested as apathy rather than sadistic pleasure.

"U-Umu…" Ainz's voice wavered slightly as he pondered his next move. "Thoth, would you… like to handle this yourself?"

Thoth's wings twitched at the offer, and for a fleeting moment, his lips threatened to curl into a wary smile.

'Oh, would I?' he thought, suppressing the surge of emotion that bubbled within him.

Thoth prided himself on being a good person—or at least, as good as he could be within the constraints of his existence. He didn't revel in human suffering; in fact, he felt a pang of guilt at the very thought of taking a life. Even these soldiers, cruel as they were, likely had families waiting for them somewhere.

Taking a deep breath, he suppressed his emotions and steadied his resolve. 'This will be good practice for controlling myself,' he decided. 'I just have to make sure I don't kill anyone.'

Thoth nodded after a moment, his expression returning to its usual regal calm.

"I would be honored, Lord Ainz."

Thoth descended like a thunderclap, his landing sending a deafening boom across the village. The ground quaked beneath him, shattering into jagged cracks that radiated outward, forming a small crater at the point of impact.

The shockwave roared through the square like a furious windstorm, tearing at the grass and loose earth, forcing grown men to stumble and knocking over the weaker ones. Villagers huddled together, their screams drowned out by the howling winds, while soldiers staggered back, clutching at their weapons as if they could shield themselves from the raw power radiating before them.

Smoke and dust billowed around Thoth, obscuring his form in a veil of secrecy.

Within the haze, countless crimson points flared to life, gleaming like molten embers in the heart of an inferno. The scattered red shifted and moved unnervingly as they could feel it stare as if they were an eye sore.

Then, through the swirling murk, his silhouette emerged—a small, humanoid figure with four large black wings unfurling like a mantle of darkness.

The wings moved with an eerie grace, the crimson eyes embedded within them glinting malevolently, each one burning with a life of its own. Some stared down at the soldiers with searing contempt, others with cold indifference, and a few with a predatory hunger that sent chills racing up their spines. The tendrils writhing along his arms and legs twisted and snapped like coiled serpents, exuding an aura of barely restrained violence.

"Sir Leonis!" a panicked soldier yelled, his voice breaking in fright. "What do we do?!"

Leonis, a young officer in gleaming plate armor, forced himself to step forward despite the fear clawing at his chest. His sky-blue eyes narrowed as he surveyed the creature, though his trembling grip on his sword betrayed the fear coursing through him.

"Surround it!" Leonis barked, his voice faltering only slightly. "But don't get too close—it's not human!"

The soldiers hesitated but obeyed, fanning out cautiously to form a loose circle around the figure. Their weapons gleamed in the fading sunlight, though the hands that held them shook with dread.

Leonis squinted through the haze, his mind struggling to comprehend the being before him. Its wings alone were massive, dwarfing the tallest soldiers, and the countless glowing eyes that adorned them seemed to bore into his soul. The aura emanating from the creature was suffocating—neither holy nor unholy, but something far more primal. It wasn't a demon or angel, nor something that conformed to the natural order.

'What is this thing?' Leonis thought, his throat dry. 'A forest spirit? A summoned creature?'

The air grew colder as the creature spoke, its voice a low, venomous hiss that carried like a gale across the square.

"Corrupted filth," it said, the words dripping with disdain. "Surrender now, and I may show you mercy."

The sheer weight of its voice froze the soldiers where they stood. It wasn't just the words—it was the way they seemed to echo inside their minds, scratching at the edges of sanity.

A sneering voice broke the silence, cutting through the oppressive atmosphere. Londes Di Clamp, a young officer with short blonde hair and arrogant blue eyes, stepped forward, his lips curling into a mocking grin.

"Oh? A magical creature dares to call me filth?" Londes laughed, though the sound was forced, brittle, even.

"A hundred gold to whoever captures it!"

The promise of wealth spurred a handful of soldiers to step forward, their fear tempered by greed. Their swords gleamed as they moved toward the creature, emboldened by Londes's bravado.

They didn't even make it three meters.

With a sound like shattering glass, black, metallic tendrils lashed out from the creature's body, moving faster than the eye could follow. The appendages coiled around the soldiers' limbs, their grips tightening with a sickening crunch as armor and bone gave way.

The men screamed as they were lifted into the air, dangling helplessly like marionettes.

The tendrils twitched and convulsed, the soldiers' blood dripping down as their skin dug into their flesh. Then, with a flick of its wrist, the creature hurled them with bone-breaking force into a nearby house. The hay roof gave way under the impact, collapsing inward as the soldiers' broken bodies fell limply to the floor. Their groans of agony confirmed they were still alive, though barely.

The square was silent once more, save for the crackling of distant, burning homes and the heavy breathing of terrified men.

Londes's cocky grin dissolved as his gaze met the creature's glowing red eyes. The malice radiating from them seemed to crush the air from his lungs. He stumbled back, tripping over his own feet as his confidence shattered like the soldiers' armor.

"Would you care to repeat your words?" the creature asked, stepping forward. Its tone was slow, deliberate, and seething with menace.

Londes's legs gave out, and he fell to his knees, shaking uncontrollably. His sword slipped from his grasp, clattering uselessly to the ground. Desperation overtook him, and in a wild, futile gesture, he grabbed the blade and flung it at the creature.

The result was instantaneous.

One of the creature's wings swept forward, swatting the sword aside with casual ease. The blade shattered on impact, sending shards of steel flying through the air. Several soldiers cried out as the fragments pierced their armor, blood spilling onto the dirt.

The creature spared them a mere glance.

Before Londes could react, a tendril snapped around his ankle, hoisting him into the air. He screamed, flailing helplessly as tears streamed down his face.

"No! Please!" Londes begged, his voice breaking into a sob. "I'll give you gold! Wealth! Just spare me!"

The creature ignored his pleas, its eyes flickering with emotions unreadable. With a flick of a tendril, Londes was hurled like a ragdoll into Leonis. Both men crashed into a stone wall with a resounding thud, their bodies crumpling to the ground, motionless.

The creature turned its piercing gaze onto the remaining soldiers, who had frozen in place, their weapons trembling in their hands.

"I will repeat myself only once," it said, its voice reverberating through the square. "Surrender, and you might be spared."

The soldiers didn't hesitate. One by one, they dropped their swords, the metallic clang echoing through the still air. Their faces were pale, their bodies trembling as they knelt, bowing their heads in submission.

The oppressive silence that followed was broken only by the crackling flames and the shallow, ragged breaths of men who had looked into the abyss—and lost.

"Excellent work, Thoth!"

The voice boomed from above, deep and commanding, its tone heavy with authority.

Descending slowly from the reddened skies, a figure clad in opulent black-and-gold robes appeared. Its form exuded an almost divine presence, further amplified by the intricate mask adorning his face—a crimson visage with glowing blue gems for eyes and elaborate green markings along the cheeks and forehead. Its iron gloves glinted faintly in the dying light as his robes billowed unnaturally, despite the still air.

The masked figure landed beside Thoth with deliberate grace, its movements fluid yet heavy with purpose. It turned toward the cowering soldiers, their bodies trembling as if held in the grip of an invisible hand.

"All of you," the figure began, its voice reverberating like the tolling of a great bell, "listen closely."

The soldiers froze, their terrified gazes fixed on him as if awaiting judgment.

"Return to your master—" it paused as if thinking, the faint glow behind the mask's blue gems intensifying for a heartbeat, "—or rather, your owner," The word dripped with contempt, "And deliver this message."

Its voice dropped to a low, ominous rumble, a sound that seemed to reverberate in their bones.

"This area is under the protection of Ainz Ooal Gown. Should you dare to cause trouble here again..." It leaned forward slightly, the weight of its presence pressing down on them like a physical force. "...you will not be met with a swift end."

The soldiers erupted into frantic nodding, not even sparing a second to retrieve their discarded weapons. Instead, they turned and bolted, scrambling over one another as they fled the village, their panicked cries fading into the distance.

As the soldiers fled, the villagers huddled together in silence, their wide, fearful eyes darting between the two figures before them. A few clasped their hands together in prayer, whispering desperate pleas to any god that might still be listening. Others simply trembled, too paralyzed by terror to move.

Thoth stood quietly, his crimson gaze lingering on the fleeing soldiers. His wings, though now still, stared at the soldiers with regret, while others looked relieved.

The villagers' collective fear deepened as they saw Thoth's frown harden, his piercing gaze shifting toward the various groaning and unconscious soldiers.

Unbeknownst to them, Thoth's mind was ablaze with conflicting thoughts.

'There's no way those guys are okay,' he thought, unease gnawing at him, 'I asked the tentacle things not to kill them, but that doesn't mean they'll survive. All it takes is one broken rib puncturing a lung, and they're dead.'

The weight of that realization pressed against him. Though he was well within his right to leave them to their fate—after all, they were enemies—there was a nagging part of him that refused to ignore their suffering.

But the dilemma wasn't simply whether or not to help them—it was how to do so without breaking character.

'Why would someone like me—an arrogant, prideful being who sees others as beneath him—go out of his way to help a bunch of defeated raiders?' Thoth's mind raced as he searched for an excuse, his thoughts darting from one justification to another. 'Think, think, think!'

While Thoth wrestled with his internal crisis, Ainz turned his attention to the gathered villagers. His masked face tilted toward them, and they recoiled as one, flinching under his gaze.

Their trembling forms huddled closer together, their whispers barely audible beneath their shallow breaths. Ainz studied them silently for a moment, his imposing form casting a long shadow over the square.

'They're absolutely terrified of us,' he noted, the glowing orbs behind his mask dimming slightly. 'That's good. Fear will keep them compliant for now... but it might also hinder any useful cooperation later. I'll need to temper their terror with trust. Or at least gratitude.'

Ainz extended a gloved hand toward the villagers, his voice softening slightly—though it still carried the weight of authority.

"Fear not, for you are under my protection," he declared. "No harm shall come to you so long as you remain loyal to Ainz Ooal Gown."

The words seemed to wash over the crowd like a wave. Though many still quaked in fear, a faint flicker of hope sparked in their eyes.

'Good,' Ainz thought, satisfied. 'Now to solidify their loyalty with a gesture of mercy.'

He glanced at Thoth, whose expression remained rigid and composed despite the inner turmoil that continued to churn beneath the surface.

"Thoth," Ainz called out, his tone measured, "see to the soldiers you dealt with and the villagers they harmed. Ensure they survive."

Thoth resisted the urge to swear.

'Okay... So I now have an excuse to heal them, but I don't have any healing spells. Or abilities that I know how to use. Or anything at all!'

Thoth felt a sigh slip out as he glanced at Momonga. Suddenly, he had an idea.

'I could ask for a potion! Yes, let's do that.'

"Lord Ainz," he began, "may I get a few health potions to heal the soldiers?"

Ainz turned to him and pondered momentarily.

'Ah, he doesn't want to heal the humans? Crap, but I haven't learned anything about this world yet, and any Nazarick resource spent could be a big waste...'

Suzuki then remembered what Albedo said.

'His pride is becoming a bit of an obstacle, yes. Let's work on that now.'

Ainz shook his head and spoke, "No. You shall heal them with your magic so we can preserve our resources."

'I don't have any magic!!' Thoth resisted the urge to cry out and politely nodded.

"Understood," Thoth said curtly, though his mind was anything but calm.

Ainz nodded, turning his attention toward the gathered villagers, ready to engage in the intricate dance of diplomacy and intrigue. Meanwhile, Thoth strode toward the unconscious noble and his leader, both sprawled on the ground with blood trickling from their mouths and noses.

The sight stopped him cold.

'Internal bleeding?' Thoth's thoughts seized up as he knelt beside them. 'Shit, that's bad!' His glowing crimson eyes darted across their battered forms. He knew the rough locations of vital organs, but beyond that, his understanding of human anatomy was sketchy at best—a collection of half-remembered details and theoretical knowledge.

'I don't know how to stop internal bleeding with medicine alone!' Thoth lamented, panic bubbling beneath his stoic facade. 'I was hoping I wouldn't need to rely on magic for this… but here we are.'

Suppressing a sigh, Thoth exhaled loudly, his fingers twitching as he reached out and carefully removed the helmets of both soldiers. Their pale faces were smeared with dirt and blood, their shallow breaths the only sign of life.

'Alright,' Thoth thought, steeling himself. 'It doesn't matter if I don't know what I'm doing—just do something before it's too late.'

Placing his palm on Londes' head, Thoth closed his eyes and focused. This time, he wasn't trying to conjure or create anything new. Instead, he wanted to amplify something that already existed.

'I don't know enough about the human body to heal them manually,' he thought, 'so I'll flood their entire system with my power and hope it fixes whatever's broken.'

The decision was reckless, but time wasn't on his side.

As he reached for the energy buried deep within, Thoth felt it surge far too eagerly, like a tsunami crashing against a fragile dam. The veins in his arm seemed to boil with intensity, his wings twitching violently as the crimson eyes scattered across them darted about in visible panic.

The power swelled within him, threatening to spiral out of control. His senses dimmed, his muscles seized, and his mind fogged over as he struggled to direct the chaotic force into his outstretched palm.

And then, just as it reached a breaking point, a shiver of recognition ran up his spine.

It was a strange, alien sensation, as though a thousand invisible ants were crawling through the ligaments of his spinal cord. The overwhelming torrent of power recoiled abruptly, bending—not to Thoth's will, but to something far greater.

A cooling sensation washed over him, soothing the storm within like ice melting into his bloodstream.

"Pandemonium?" Thoth muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible. The crimson eyes scattered across his wings stopped their frantic movements, visibly relaxing. Relief radiated from them, as though they too had been caught in the turmoil and were now spared from disaster.

The chaotic energy in Thoth's arm shifted. No longer wild and unruly, it now flowed with deliberate precision, like a tamed beast. It rolled out of his palm steadily, a calm stream replacing the previous tsunami. The golden light it produced was softer now, more controlled.

'Huh,' Thoth mused, momentarily distracted by the sudden change. 'How... meek.'

But his brief reprieve was short-lived.

A sharp, foreign emotion surged into his mind—anger.

It wasn't his own anger, but it felt searingly familiar, like an imprint left behind by something vast and incomprehensible. It wasn't violent, but it carried a weight of parental frustration, like a scolding meant to teach a lesson.

'Oh, great,' Thoth thought bitterly, his mental voice dripping with sarcasm. 'Now I have to deal with 'grown-ups' again.'

The sensation lingered, a clear admonishment for his recklessness. It felt like being yanked by the ear and sternly reminded that his power wasn't a toy to be misused.

'Alright, alright, I get it,' Thoth thought, grimacing internally. 'No more winging it with overwhelming force. Happy now?'

The alien presence seemed to withdraw slightly, its chastising grip loosening.

With the power now flowing in a controlled stream, Thoth focused on Londes again. Golden light seeped into the soldier's pale skin, traveling through his body like threads of healing energy. The faint sound of muscles knitting together echoed faintly in the still air, accompanied by the subtle shift of organs realigning. The bleeding from Londes's mouth and nose slowed, then stopped entirely. His skin, strangely enough, became pale as marble.

Thoth hurriedly checked his pulse, only to find it stable and steady.

'...I'll chalk that up to magic and move on.'

Thoth withdrew his hand, flexing his fingers as he observed Londes' now-stable condition.

One down.

He moved to the other soldier, the leader, and repeated the process. This time, the energy obeyed without hesitation, flowing smoothly from his palm. The eyes on his wings watched cautiously, as they curled and forward, as if they were ready to shield Thoth from his own hands.

Within moments, both men were breathing evenly, their color returning to their faces. Thoth let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders sagging slightly as he stood.

Even if both of their skin had become white as marble, and there was no doubt something going on, at the very least, they were alive.

Thoth then scouted around the village from the air, finding any soldiers that were wounded, unconscious, or otherwise harmed during the fight or during the stampede to run away.

At the end of it all, Thoth had healed a dozen soldiers. He also tried to heal the wounded villagers, but sadly, he was too late to aid those who needed him most.

Each of them bore wounds that would have spelled death without his intervention—shattered bones, ruptured organs, gashes that ran far too deep.

Once the soldiers were stabilized, he carried them one by one and laid them down in the village square, arranging them with careful precision. He didn't expect gratitude, nor did he receive it.

The villagers, clustered nearby, eyed him like spooked cats watching a prowling predator. Even as Thoth handed them the soldiers' confiscated weapons—repurposed as tools of protection—their fear outweighed any sense of newfound empowerment. They murmured among themselves, their gazes darting between the towering winged figure and the broken invaders lying in neat rows.

By the time Thoth finished his work, the sun had all but dipped beneath the horizon, leaving the world bathed in the fiery hues of twilight. The air grew cooler, heavy with the smell of damp earth and distant smoke.

Thoth made his way to the house of the village chief, where Ainz had taken up residence for the evening. Inside, Ainz sat at a modest wooden table, examining coins with the intensity of a merchant appraising treasure. He had been measuring the value of YGGDRASIL gold against the native currency, his skeletal fingers carefully weighing the worth of each coin.

The rest of the day passed without much fanfare. Together, Thoth and Ainz worked to repair the fragile trust between themselves and the villagers, their good behavior slowly but surely easing the tension.

For Ainz, tasks that seemed impossible to the villagers—like fixing broken roofs—were child's play. With a simple casting of "[Create Greater Item]," he conjured fine wood that far exceeded anything this side of the New World had seen. Then, with a casual wave and the invocation of "[Mending]," he seamlessly attached the pristine materials to the old, damaged structures.

Thoth, meanwhile, kept watch over the still-unconscious soldiers he had healed. Though it felt more like he guarded them from the villagers, whose simmering anger hadn't fully abated. The villagers whispered darkly among themselves, but none dared approach too closely while Thoth loomed nearby. His silent presence alone was enough to suppress their fury, though he knew it wouldn't last forever.

Nightfall came swiftly, and with it, the heavy weight of grief.

The villagers gathered for a funeral, torches lighting the fresh graves dug in the soft earth. Their sobs and murmured prayers filled the air, an aching melody of loss and despair.

Ainz and Thoth stood off to the side, their towering forms casting long shadows in the torchlight. Neither spoke, both unwilling to interrupt the emotional process unfolding before them.

Thoth folded his four wings into his back, hiding them from view to avoid further intimidating the mourners. His arms were clasped behind his straightened back, his posture rigid and formal. Yet beneath the composed exterior, a storm churned.

His sadness wasn't rooted in the funerals themselves—though the tragedy of the villagers' loss was undeniable. No, his grief felt deeper, more personal.

He wasn't truly Thoth. He had a name before this, a life before this. Family, friends, a sense of identity—all lost to the fog of memory. He could feel the faint outlines of what once was: emotions tied to people he couldn't remember, echoes of love, respect, and purpose. They were like golden ladders that descended into a dark abyss.

No matter how high he climbed, the abyss was all he could see.

The absence of those memories hurt more than he wanted to admit. He could feel the shape of the void they left behind—a gaping wound that refused to heal.

'I had a mother and father,' he thought, his glowing eyes dimming as the realization struck like a blow. 'But I'll never know them. I'll never remember the faces that shaped my life. And even if I could... they're gone now.'

The thought crushed him, a weight so heavy it made the grief of the villagers seem almost distant by comparison.

Thoth turned away from the funeral. He couldn't bear to watch anymore.

His footsteps carried him away from the square, past the torchlight and the grieving crowd, until he reached a hill overlooking the village. The night was peaceful and quiet, the stars scattered across the dark canvas of the sky.

He sat down, his white-gloved hands sinking into the cool grass as he leaned back, staring upward at the infinite expanse above.

Once again, he felt that strange pull—a sense of nostalgia that tugged at his heart, both familiar and distant. It was like a melody he had once known, now reduced to faint whispers on the edge of memory.

Thoth sighed, the sound heavy with resignation.

'It's not all bad,' he thought, forcing a hint of optimism into his reflection. 'At least I can see in the dark. If I couldn't, I'd probably be having a panic attack right about now.'

The dark had left its mark on him, after all, it was the thing that pushed his brain to the breaking point.

'I wonder what I should do in this world,' he mused, leaning forward slightly as his crimson gaze drifted over the village below. The faint sounds of sobbing and anguish reached his ears, a distant reminder of the tragedy still unfolding.

'...I just wanted to survive, to live moment to moment. But what do I even want beyond that?'

The question opened the void in his heart even further, threatening to swallow him whole. Thoth clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to wallow in the emptiness.

'I could get rich, indulge in every whim, do anything I want…' The thought felt shallow, hollow, like scratching the surface of something far deeper. 'But that's not enough. I want... something more. Something real.'

But what was it?

Before he could dwell on the thought, movement caught his attention.

From the distant horizon, a dozen winged figures approached, their forms silhouetted against the night sky. Thoth recognized them immediately.

The soldiers he had healed.

They landed before him in perfect formation, their armor gleaming faintly under the starlight. The sound of metal clicking against metal echoed as they moved, and then, as one, they knelt.

Thoth stared down at them, his expression unreadable. His wings twitched slightly, their crimson eyes shifting as if to study the kneeling figures.

One of the soldiers, Leonis, raised his head, his voice steady despite the weight of the moment.

"We have come to offer our gratitude," he said. "And to swear our loyalty to you, Lord Thoth."

"Gratitude?" Thoth repeated, his voice trembling slightly, the charade of confidence slipping away. The regal, commanding façade he so often wore cracked as genuine confusion colored his tone. "For what?"

One of the soldiers raised his helmeted head, his voice muffled but resolute. "For showing us the error of our ways."

Another added, his face equally obscured by steel, "For sparing us when we deserved death—and for giving us a chance to change."

Thoth blinked, momentarily stunned. He opened his mouth to demand further explanation but paused as a realization began to creep over him.

These men had not seen their actions—raiding, slaughter, the senseless butchery of innocents—as wrong. To them, it had been a chore, a grim necessity born from duty. For some, perhaps, it had even been a twisted source of amusement.

'How unjust,' Thoth thought bitterly, his mind swirling with contempt. His wings twitched as his anger simmered beneath the surface, the countless crimson eyes narrowing in shared disapproval.

But then, something shifted within him.

It wasn't just anger he felt. It was enlightenment.

These soldiers were alive because of him. He had stopped their rampage, not just through force but by giving them a reason to pause, to reflect, to see the world—and themselves—in a new light.

For all the horror and suffering still festering in this world, he had made an impact here, in this small village. He had saved lives, not only of the innocent villagers but also of the men who now knelt before him, their sins heavy but their gazes steadfast.

The realization struck him with the weight of a thousand falling stars.

The world was not just. It was chaotic, cruel, and indifferent. But if it lacked justice—if no higher power sought to set it right—then why couldn't he?

If he held this God-like power, then why not wield it? Not to dominate or destroy, but to teach, to guide, to judge. He could be the force that defined right and wrong in a world that seemed to lack any moral compass.

And one day, he too would stand to be judged by the ideals he forged.

Thoth unfurled his four wings in a single, majestic motion. The air seemed to ripple as the great black appendages stretched to their full span, their crimson eyes radiating a fierce sense of purpose. The glow of the eyes intensified, piercing through the darkness, their fiery light reflecting in the polished armor of the soldiers kneeling before him.

"Good," Thoth said, his voice clear and strong, no longer burdened by doubt. Joy mingled with pride as his words rang out like a divine proclamation. "You have a lot to make up for. But that's the point, isn't it?"

The soldiers bowed deeper, their guilt weighing heavily on their shoulders. Yet amidst their remorse, there was no despair.

Because now, there was hope.

-x-x-x-

Hope you liked the chapter! It's really late here since I wanted to get a chapter out this weekend, so I'mma head to bed

Remember to leave a review, comment, and all that other stuff to support my story, have a good one gang!

Goodnight.