Reborn as an NPC in the Great Tomb of Nazarick

The first light of dawn spilled over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of soft gold and bright red. It bathed the land with a fleeting tranquility, as if the world itself was unaware of the horrors that had unfolded the day before. Yet, the serenity was deceptive. Dark trails of smoke still hung above the edge of the Great Forest of Tob, lingering like a stain on the crisp morning air—a grim reminder of the violence that had gripped Carne Village.

At the head of a small column of soldiers rode Gazef Stronoff, the Warrior-Captain of the Kingdom of Re-Estize. His short, dark brown hair was tousled by the wind as he rode forth, the winds caressing his face, a face hardened by years of battle. His strong, square jaw was set in grim determination, and his piercing blue eyes scanned the horizon with unwavering focus. The golden glow of the rising sun reflected off the polished steel of his armor, casting him in a light that would inspire courage in any man who followed him.

Behind Gazef, a relatively small contingent of soldiers rode in disciplined formation, their expressions steeled and watchful. These men, personally trained under Gazef's rigorous tutelage, were counted among the finest soldiers the Kingdom could offer.

Yet they rode clad in leather armor, wielding only the barest essentials—simple swords and wooden shields.

By contrast, Gazef himself was equipped with a set of expertly crafted plate armor, and at his back, a steel greatsword rested in its sheath. Its hilt, worn smooth by his grip over countless battles, was a symbol of his hard-earned authority. Even so, the disparity between his equipment and that of his troops gnawed at him.

His grip on the reins tightened.

As Gazef and his men glimpsed the battered village, an acrid scent of smoke filled the air, mingling with the faint iron tang of blood. The column of soldiers moved in near silence, the rhythmic clinking of armor and the occasional snort of a horse the only sounds that accompanied them. The Warrior-Captain's gaze remained fixed ahead, his mind a storm of thoughts.

"Gazef-sama," one of the younger soldiers called out, breaking the silence as his horse approached Gazef's. The young man, his face pale with apprehension, hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Forgive me, but… is this truly worth it? Shouldn't we retreat? Return to E-Rantel and let the village… handle this on its own?"

Gazef turned his head slightly, his sharp blue eyes narrowing as he regarded the soldier. The young man shifted uncomfortably under the weight of his commander's gaze, his knuckles tightening around the reins.

"It's not that I question your judgment, sir," the soldier added quickly, as if trying to avoid reprimand. "But this village… it's remote, insignificant. And if those raiders come back in force, what can we do with so few men and such poor equipment? Wouldn't it be better to conserve our strength for battles that matter? For the Kingdom itself?"

The words hung in the air, a bitter truth wrapped in practicality. A few of the other soldiers exchanged uneasy glances, but none dared to speak up. The young soldier looked at Gazef expectantly, though his gaze flickered with uncertainty.

Gazef reined his horse to a halt, and the column stopped with him. He stood tall, his imposing figure radiating a calm authority that demanded attention. The soldier who had spoken watched him nervously, his horse shifting beneath him as if sensing the tension.

Gazef placed a gloved hand on the hilt of his greatsword, his eyes fixed on the likely ruins of Carne Village in the distance as his horse steadied itself. His voice was calm yet carried the weight of steel.

"Do you remember, when you were a child, the stories you used to hear?" Gazef began, his tone firm but not unkind. "Stories of knights riding to the rescue? Of brave soldiers sweeping in to protect those who couldn't protect themselves?"

The young soldier blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected question. He opened his mouth to respond, but Gazef didn't wait.

"For some of us, those weren't just stories," Gazef continued, his voice growing more resolute. "For some of us, that was a dream we clung to as we huddled in fear. Watching the horizon, praying for the sound of hooves, for the glint of armor in the sun."

He turned to face his men, his blue eyes blazing with conviction. "When bandits came to our homes. When warlords raided our villages. When fire consumed everything we knew… we waited. We waited for the soldiers. We waited for the knights. We waited for someone to come and save us."

Gazef's voice dropped, and the quiet intensity of his words seemed to pull the men closer. "And no one came."

A heavy silence fell over the column as Gazef let his words sink in before he continued, his voice rising with purpose.

"But today—today, we are those soldiers. We are the knights. And it is not for us to decide whether this village is worth saving or not. It is not for us to abandon these people because the nobles think they're unimportant." His gaze swept across the faces of his men, his expression unyielding. "The people of Carne Village are waiting for someone to come. For someone to help them. And that someone… is us."

The young soldier lowered his head, shame flickering across his face. A murmur of agreement rippled through the ranks as Gazef's words lit a fire in the hearts of his men.

"We are soldiers of the Kingdom!" Gazef declared, his voice ringing out like a battle cry. "We do not fight for glory or gold, nor for the favor of nobles. We fight because it is our duty! Because it is right!"

Gazef's horse galloped closer to the young man, and he placed a hand on the young soldier's shoulder, his grip firm but reassuring. "If you are afraid, I won't hold it against you. But I will not abandon these people. Not today."

The young man swallowed hard and nodded, his earlier doubts burned away by the resolve in Gazef's words. "Forgive me, Gazef-sama. I… I was wrong."

Gazef offered him a small, approving nod before mounting his horse once more. He turned back to the rest of the column, his voice steady and commanding.

"Form up! We're riding in. And remember—every one of these villagers is counting on us. Let's show them what the soldiers of the Kingdom stand for!"

A cheer erupted from the men, their earlier hesitance replaced with renewed determination. As Gazef led them toward the village, his heart was heavy with the knowledge of the battle ahead. But it was also steady, fortified by the conviction that he would not let these people down.

For he had once been one of them—waiting for a savior. And now, he would be that savior.

Gazef and his men continued their journey, the gentle breeze brushing against them as the first rays of dawn stretched across the sky. The rhythmic clatter of hooves on the dirt road filled the silence between them, though the Warrior-Captain's mind was far from quiet.

As they neared Carne Village, Gazef's sharp blue eyes narrowed. Something about the scene unsettled him. Though the village seemed mostly intact, a cold shiver ran down his spine. The wind picked up, tugging insistently at his hands, almost as if it were urging him to turn back, to flee while he still had the chance.

But Gazef Stronoff was not a man who ran from duty or danger. Clenching his jaw, he pushed the unease aside and urged his horse onward.

As they entered the village, his heart lifted slightly. The houses still stood, most of them appearing untouched by fire or blade. Signs of life lingered—the faint sounds of hammering and movement—but the weight pressing on his chest did not ease. His relief was quickly overshadowed by the three figures standing near the entrance to the village, their presence radiating an unspoken authority that made his soldiers exchange wary glances.

One of the figures, a middle-aged man with a weathered face and a slight stoop, appeared to be the village chief. The relief in his eyes was palpable as they locked onto Gazef. His hands fidgeted nervously, though he exuded the kind of resilience born of years spent tending fields and enduring hardships.

'The chief,' Gazef thought, though his focus was immediately drawn to the two, far more bizarre individuals flanking the man.

To the chief's right stood a towering figure, easily two meters tall, draped in black and purple robes that shimmered faintly in the early morning light. The intricate designs on the fabric, coupled with the regal bearing of the figure, made it clear this was no ordinary traveler. In his gloved hands, he held a staff—a masterpiece of craftsmanship, or so it seemed. Its golden surface gleamed with an otherworldly luster, adorned with seven serpents coiled around its shaft, each clutching a gem that radiated faint power.

'Gold-plated, perhaps,' Gazef reasoned, though even that possibility felt far-fetched. The staff alone must be worth a fortune, and the jewels embedded within… They gave him pause. He could feel the weight of their presence, as though the staff itself was more than a mere symbol of wealth.

On the left stood a figure just as imposing. A humanoid, yet clearly not human. Its marble-like skin gleamed unnaturally in the soft light, smooth and flawless as a sculptor's masterpiece. Crimson eyes, cold and unblinking, stared out from a doll-like face. Gazef couldn't shake the feeling that those eyes saw through him—stripping him down to his very core. The figure's attire matched its companion's opulence, a striking blend of brilliant whites and imposing reds that seemed to radiate authority and pride. It gazed down at the men of his regiment as if their presence offended it.

A shiver crawled up Gazef's spine as he took in their presence. These two were not ordinary people. Even without speaking, they exuded power—power that demanded respect.

'These are powerful people,' Gazef thought grimly, tightening his grip on his reins. 'I'll need to tread carefully.'

Halting his steed a respectful distance from the trio, Gazef dismounted with practiced ease, leaving enough room to draw his blade if necessary. He motioned for his men to stay back, though their wary eyes never left the two figures flanking the chief.

Drawing himself to his full height, Gazef placed a hand on the hilt of his sword—not in threat, but in a declaration of his readiness—and addressed them.

"My name is Gazef Stronoff," he announced, his voice steady and clear. "I've been sent by the Re-Estize Kingdom to protect the border villages against recent raids." His piercing gaze shifted between the two strangers before settling on the village chief. "Might I ask for an introduction to the individuals standing beside you, Village Chief?"

The chief opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the robed figure to his right raised a gloved hand, a simple gesture that immediately silenced the older man.

"No need," the figure said, his voice deep and commanding, yet smooth as polished steel. "I am Ainz Ooal Gown." He spoke the name with deliberate weight, as though daring it to be forgotten. "I was passing by when this village was attacked and saw fit to intervene. My companion assisted in ensuring the villagers' safety."

Gazef's eyes flickered to the village behind them. He could see the signs of struggle—the scorched walls, the splintered wood, the faint blood trails in the dirt. Yet the village still stood. These two had safeguarded it, that much was evident.

Without hesitation, Gazef lowered himself into a deep bow, his armor creaking slightly with the motion. His men exchanged murmurs at the sight of their captain bowing so low, but none dared question him.

"Thank you," Gazef said earnestly, his voice firm with sincerity. "You protected the people of this village when we could not. For that, I owe you my gratitude."

Ainz's glowing orbs widened faintly behind his mask. He took a step back, clearly unaccustomed to such direct thanks. "U-Umu," he stammered for a moment before regaining his composure. "There's no need for such gratitude, Warrior-Captain."

"Please," Gazef interjected, raising his head to meet Ainz's gaze. "Call me Gazef."

Ainz paused before nodding. "Very well, Gazef. You may call me Ainz." Momonga continued, "But truly, there is no need for thanks. I did what was natural given my position."

Gazef straightened, a faint smile gracing his otherwise stern features. "Natural or not, it is rare for someone to risk their life for others without thought of reward. The Kingdom is indebted to you, Lord Ainz."

Ainz's masked face tilted slightly, as though weighing the words. "Very well," He responded.

Turning to his men, Gazef gestured for them to dismount. "We'll rest here for a while before moving on. If it's no trouble, Village Chief, may we stay until our strength is restored?"

The chief, still visibly nervous but clearly eased by Gazef's presence, nodded quickly. "O-Of course, Warrior-Captain! Stay as long as you need."

As Gazef turned back to Ainz, his eyes briefly shifted to the doll-like figure who had yet to speak. Its crimson gaze lingered on Gazef for a moment before returning to the horizon, its expression one of pretentious egotism.

Thoth furrowed his brow, the rising sun casting a warm glow over Carne Village as the crisp morning air brushed against his skin. Despite the peaceful surroundings, his mind churned uneasily.

'Who the fuck is that?' he thought, glancing toward the man who had introduced himself as Gazef Stronoff. The Warrior-Captain radiated confidence and authority, but to Thoth, he just looked like a well-dressed knight. A "random guy," as Thoth would so uncharitably put it.

Still, there was an undeniable air about Gazef—an almost magnetic pull that commanded attention, respect, or at the very least, curiosity.

Thoth scratched the back of his head, his crimson eyes flickering with faint frustration. 'I feel like I should know him. He has that kind of face… or maybe it's just the generic "hero knight" vibe?' His wings shifted slightly, and the glowing eyes embedded within them stared at Gazef inquisitively, as if he were an interesting puzzle.

'He seems important, sure. But why does my brain feel like it's hitting a wall when I try to think about him?'

He racked his mind, searching for any scrap of memory or knowledge that might explain the unease this man brought. But every time he tried to pull at the threads, they unraveled into a gaping void, leaving him with nothing but a sense of loss.

'Fucking hell, this is pointless.' Thoth shook his head and sighed, folding his arms. 'If I'm supposed to know who he is, it'll come to me. Or I'll figure it out later. Either way, I don't like the way he's looking at me.'

Indeed, Gazef's sharp blue eyes lingered on Thoth for a moment longer than felt comfortable. It wasn't hostility, but neither was it trust. It was the kind of wary assessment one might give to an unpredictable predator—respectful, cautious, and prepared for the worst.

Thoth's wings twitched slightly, their many eyes narrowing in silent irritation. 'What's his deal?'

Suddenly, Ainz's deep, calm voice snapped Thoth out of his thoughts. "Thoth," Ainz called, his voice resonant and measured, turning his masked face toward his companion.

Thoth blinked, snapping out of his spiraling thoughts. He straightened instinctively, his crimson eyes meeting Ainz's glowing orbs. "Yes, Lord Ainz?"

"We are heading to the village chief's house once more. Come with me," Ainz instructed, his tone brooking no argument.

Thoth nodded silently, falling into step behind Ainz. His wings shifted slightly, the scattered crimson eyes embedded in them glancing at the soldiers stationed around the village. The tension in the air was palpable, and even the villagers—though relieved by the Warrior-Captain's presence—still cast wary glances at their enigmatic saviors. Something which Gazef couldn't help but notice.

The walk to the chief's modest home was otherwise unremarkable, but what followed inside was anything but engaging for Thoth.

Ainz and Gazef sat across from each other at the chief's sturdy wooden table, the room dimly lit by the morning sun filtering through a small, dust-covered window. The two men exchanged pleasantries, their words layered with subtext as each cautiously probed the other for information.

Ainz, with his usual calculated calm, deflected any attempts to glean too much about Nazarick while subtly steering the conversation toward the state of the kingdom. Gazef, for his part, answered honestly but offered little of strategic value, carefully protecting the integrity of his position.

To an observer, the meeting was a fascinating display of diplomacy and restraint. To Thoth, who stood silently in the corner with his arms folded neatly behind his back, it was little more than a grueling exercise in patience.

'Politicians, both of you.' he thought with mild exasperation, his wings slumped down in exhaustion. Most of the eyes were either closed, as if sleeping or were closing and opening with a startled look, as if they were fighting to remain awake.

Then there was one that seemed entirely absorbed in the politics. And Thoth could only stare at it in disgust, prompting it to look ashamed.

An hour dragged by, each minute feeling longer than the last. Just as Thoth racked his brain for an excuse to leave, A soldier stumbled inside.

His leather armor was streaked with dirt and sweat, his face pale and panicked. He immediately snapped to attention, saluting Gazef with a trembling hand.

"Sir!" he barked, his voice taut with urgency.

Gazef rose from his seat, his expression calm but commanding. "Report."

The soldier's chest heaved as he caught his breath, his eyes darting nervously between Ainz and Thoth before settling on Gazef again. "Carne Village has been surrounded by an unknown enemy, sir! Scouts report angels being summoned—approximately five kilometers out!"

The room fell into a tense silence, the soldier's words sinking in like a stone dropped into still water.

"Angels...?" Thoth muttered under his breath, the word tasting strange on his tongue. His wings shifted, now awakened once more. Their crimson eyes narrowed in unison. Some with displeasure, others in silent rage.

Gazef turned to Ainz, a faintly wry smile tugging at his lips despite the dire news. "Are these by chance your allies, Lord Ainz?"

Ainz's crimson orbs glowed faintly behind his mask. "I'm afraid not," he replied evenly. "It seems, Warrior-Captain, that you are quite the loathed man."

Gazef let out a dry chuckle. "I am not surprised."

He straightened, his jaw set as he turned back to the soldier. "Ready the men. We ride out to meet them immediately."

The soldier saluted again, his boots thudding against the wooden floor as he bolted from the house. Gazef adjusted his cloak and turned to Ainz, his expression resolute.

"Ainz—no, Lord Ainz," Gazef began, his voice steady but tinged with urgency. "I must ask you for one more favor." He hesitated only briefly before continuing. "Please, protect the village. If these angels are after me, they may leave the villagers alone. But if I fall and they decide to..." He trailed off, his words hanging heavy in the air.

He moved to kneel before Ainz, but the elder undead raised a gloved hand, stopping him mid-motion.

"There is no need for that, Gazef," Ainz said firmly. "I have already sworn on the name of Ainz Ooal Gown that this village will never again be endangered. You have my word."

Gazef exhaled slowly, a subtle but genuine smile breaking through his stoic demeanor. "Thank you," he said, his voice laden with gratitude. "I hope we meet again under better circumstances."

"The wish is mutual."

With that, Gazef strode out of the house, leaving Ainz and Thoth alone in the quiet room.

The silence that followed was oppressive, a weight neither of them seemed inclined to break immediately.

Thoth's mind raced, each thought more troubling than the last.

'He won't make it,' he realized grimly. 'If these so-called angels are backed by summoners and magic casters, even Gazef's skill and his men's loyalty won't be enough with their shitty equipment. They'll be slaughtered.'

Thoth clenched his fists behind his back, his gloved fingers digging into the fabric of his sleeves. He glanced at Ainz, who sat as still as a statue, his glowing orbs fixed on the door through which Gazef had exited.

"Lord Ainz," Thoth began cautiously, breaking the silence. "Perhaps we should consider aiding the Warrior-Captain. It could help strengthen relations with the Kingdom."

Ainz tilted his head slightly, his gaze shifting to Thoth. For a brief moment, he said nothing, as though weighing the suggestion carefully.

"Aiding them is an option," Ainz admitted at last. "But rushing into battle without understanding the risks is foolish. We have only scratched the surface of this world's true nature. Until I assess the threat these angels pose, I will not act recklessly."

Thoth's wings twitched, some eyes burning with frustration. His crimson irises glowed faintly.

'By the time you decide to intervene, Gazef will already be dead or close to it,' Thoth thought bitterly.

He opened his mouth to argue further but stopped himself, biting back the words. He couldn't appeal to Ainz's morality—it had died along with his humanity. Logic was equally futile; Ainz would always prioritize Nazarick's safety over the life of a single man, no matter how noble that man might be.

The feeling of helplessness gnawed at Thoth, but something deep within him refused to yield. He averted his gaze, staring down at the wooden floor. His hands tightened their grip on his sleeves, the tension in his posture palpable as he turned his focus inward, trying to accept his situation.

As he did so, his pupils and irises shifted to appear like cracked glass once more.

Ainz studied him, the glass-like cracks in Thoth's eyes catching his attention.

'Those eyes again,' Ainz noted silently. 'They activated now and sporadically with seemingly no pattern. But why? Their function is defensive—designed to resist illusions and mental interference. Could it be connected to his lore? Is there a pattern I'm not seeing?'

Ainz sifted through his mental archives, but his knowledge of Thoth's abilities and backstory was incomplete.

'I'll need to consult the Codex for further information,' he decided. 'This could prove useful later.'

For now, however, Ainz's decision was final.

"Prepare yourself, Thoth," Ainz commanded. "We will observe from a distance. If the enemy proves insignificant, we will intervene."

Thoth nodded stiffly as Ainz stood up, though the fire in his gaze remained unquenched. 'If you won't act in time, Lord Ainz,' he thought grimly, 'then I will.'

...

Gazef and his men galloped across the battlefield, their trained warhorses pounding the earth beneath them with a steady rhythm of determination and desperation. The Warrior-Captain rode at the forefront, his greatsword sheathed at his back and his eyes blazing with purpose.

"Men!" Gazef shouted over the thunder of hooves, his voice resolute. "Pierce their formation and escape! That is an order!"

"Understood!" came the unified reply, their voices filled with grim determination. But Gazef could feel the weight of their loyalty pressing against him like a stone. He knew that even as they spoke those words, they intended to stay by his side.

A bitter smile tugged at his lips.

As the enemy came into view, Gazef's sharp gaze took in the dark blue uniforms, the cylindrical helmets, and the glint of high-quality steel. His teeth clenched. These were no Imperial troops—they were far more dangerous.

"The Slane Theocracy..." he muttered, venom dripping from every syllable.

The enemy force consisted of summoners and mages in pristine robes overlayed by metal plates. They carried themselves with an air of superiority, their heads held high as though they were beyond reproach. Gazef's grip on the reins tightened.

"Men!" he shouted one last time, his voice carrying over the battlefield, "Let's show these religious zealots what we stand for! For the Kingdom!"

"For the Kingdom!" his men echoed, their blades drawn and their voices ringing with fierce resolve. The sound resonated across the plain, a fleeting roar of defiance that was soon swallowed by the sound of galloping horses and the distant hum of gathered magic.

At the rear of the enemy formation, Nigun Grid Luin, commander of the Sunlight Scripture, stood tall and composed, a smirk playing on his lips. His short blonde hair caught the light as his piercing blue eyes watched the approaching cavalry with thinly veiled amusement.

"What a futile display," Nigun muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. He raised his voice, the confidence in his tone like a knife twisting in the air. "Summon the angels!"

At his command, circles of radiant light appeared in the air, glowing with divine energy. From them emerged towering humanoid figures, each over three meters tall. Their metallic bodies gleamed in the sun, sharp and angular like constructs forged in a divine foundry. Their wings, jagged and unmoving, radiated a cold golden glow. Where their eyes should have been, a thin strip of crimson light pulsed ominously. They hung in the air, their presence both alien and overwhelming, as though heaven itself had sent executioners.

Nigun smiled in satisfaction, his voice carrying across the battlefield. "End their misery."

The summoners extended their hands, and the angels drew their radiant swords, weapons formed of pure light. With mechanical precision, they surged forward.

Gazef and his men roared in unison, their war cries meeting the angels' silent advance as the two forces collided in the middle of the field. Chaos erupted as the clash of steel and radiant blades filled the air. Horses panicked as soldiers fell while angels cut through men and their steeds with merciless efficiency.

Gazef pressed forward, cutting down any angel that dared to approach him. His greatsword cleaved through their metallic forms, leaving trails of golden fog that quickly dissipated. He fought with the precision and ferocity of a man determined to carve his way to the heart of the enemy.

Ahead of him stood Nigun, his smirk never faltering as he watched the battlefield unfold. His posture was relaxed, his confidence unwavering.

'The leader,' Gazef thought, his jaw tightening. 'If I can take him out, I can break their resolve.'

Spurring his horse onward, Gazef pushed through the chaos. But an angel suddenly surged toward him, its glowing blade slicing down. Gazef yanked the reins, halting his horse abruptly and throwing himself backward to avoid the strike. He hit the ground hard but rolled to his feet in one smooth motion, his greatsword raised defensively.

Two angels advanced on him, their crimson visors glowing with a cold, unfeeling light. Gazef steadied himself, his muscles burning with exertion. "[Martial Art: Twin Blade Strike]!" he roared, his blade swinging in a wide arc. The metallic clang of impact rang out as his attack bisected both angels, their forms disintegrating into golden mist.

More angels descended, their summoners unfazed by the loss. Gazef gritted his teeth as he activated martial art after martial art, pushing his body beyond its limits. His muscles cramped, his breath came in ragged gasps, and his vision blurred—but he refused to stop. After half an hour of effort, he was nearly upon Nigun, the mocking commander who stood as though he were untouchable.

Gazef glanced around, his men were all dead, their corpses dying the battlefield a sickening red.

'I told you to run...' Gazef muttered to himself, proud of their courage but saddened by their death.

Nigun raised an eyebrow, his tone laced with contempt. "So this is the strength of Re-Estize's greatest warrior? How disappointing." He motioned lazily toward his summoners. "Send more angels. Crush him."

Four more radiant forms emerged, their golden weapons gleaming as they closed in on Gazef. He swung his blade with sheer force of will, cutting down foe after foe. "[Fourfold Slash of Light]!" he shouted, cleaving through four angels in rapid succession. His body screamed in protest, his strength waning, but his spirit burned with defiance.

"I AM GAZEF STRONOFF!" he roared, his voice carrying across the battlefield like a thunderclap. He pointed his blade directly at Nigun, his glare unwavering. "And I will never fall to the likes of you!"

Nigun's smirk twisted into a sneer. "Ridiculous," he spat. "You're nothing but a pawn, standing in the way of divine retribution. Your village will burn, your people will die, and all of it will be your fault."

Gazef chuckled despite the blood trickling from his lips. His voice, though weak, carried a quiet confidence. "There are creatures far stronger than me in that village," he said, his words cutting through Nigun's arrogance. "Ones your angels couldn't even hope to comprehend."

Nigun's laughter was sharp and mocking. "A pathetic bluff, nothing more. Kill him!" he barked.

Dozens of angels surged forward, their metallic forms gleaming in the sunlight as their mechanical wings sliced through the air. Each movement was precise, calculated, and unrelenting, like a tide of steel and light bearing down on Gazef Stronoff.

Gazef stood his ground, his greatsword trembling slightly in his calloused hands. He took a deep breath, the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears. The pain in his body faded to the background as his mind cleared. He tightened his grip, his knuckles whitening as he prepared for what he knew would be his final stand.

'I'll take down as many as I can,' he thought grimly, steadying his stance and raising his blade high. If this was to be his end, then he would meet it with honor.

The angels surged closer, their radiant blades drawn and ready to strike. Gazef adjusted his footing, the weight of his greatsword feeling both reassuring and heavy in his grip. But then, something strange happened.

The angels stopped.

Their mechanical forms halted mid-flight, their glowing red visors no longer fixed on Gazef but instead tilted upward, as if drawn to something far more compelling. For a brief moment, an eerie stillness descended upon the battlefield.

Then, the angels flew to the East, as if chasing after the rising sun.

"What are you doing?!" Nigun roared, his voice cracking with fury as he turned to his men. "Control them!"

The summoners looked at each other, panic flashing in their eyes. "Sir, we're not doing anything!" one shouted desperately.

"The angels—they're not responding!" another added, his voice rising in pitch.

"You expect me to believe—?!" Nigun's enraged tirade was abruptly cut short as a deafening crash echoed across the battlefield. A dozen of the angels plummeted from the sky, their once-pristine forms now shattered and crumpled like broken toys. Their metallic wings, once symbols of divine power, lay twisted and useless among the wreckage.

Nigun's head snapped upward, his wide, furious eyes following the angels' trajectory. His breath caught in his throat, the words dying on his lips.

There, silhouetted against the rising sun, was a monster.

Thoth hovered above the battlefield, his four massive black wings spread wide, their crimson eyes glowing with an intensity that seemed to dim the very light of the sun behind him. His marble-white skin gleamed like an otherworldly statue, and his crimson irises burned with unyielding authority. The writhing tentacles that extended from his limbs moved with a terrifying grace, their black and crimson surfaces glinting as they constricted and coiled around their prey.

Dozens of angels flailed helplessly in his grasp, their radiant weapons dimmed and useless against the sheer power that restrained them. Thoth's tentacles crushed them with ease, the metallic groans of their bodies bending and snapping under the unrelenting pressure. With a casual flick, he hurled their remains to the ground below, the shattered constructs crashing into the earth with a resounding impact that reverberated across the battlefield.

The sunlight framed him in an ethereal glow, casting his imposing silhouette in a sharp match against the sky. Nigun felt something inside him churn as if something inside him was stirring awake.

The soldiers of the Sunlight Scripture recoiled instinctively, their faith wavering in the face of such an overwhelming presence. Even Nigun, his arrogance momentarily shattered, took an involuntary step back.

Thoth began to descend, his wings folding slightly as he flew downward with an eerie elegance. His tentacles crawled back into place, resting lightly against his limbs like dormant predators awaiting their next command. He landed soundlessly behind Nigun and his troops, his expression cold and unyielding as he landed unopposed.

Before Nigun could respond, another presence appeared on the battlefield.

With a quiet but deliberate step, Ainz Ooal Gown materialized beside Gazef. The Supreme Overlord of Nazarick carried himself with a regal authority that even the sunlight seemed to bow to, the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown gleaming in his gloved hand. His crimson orbs glowed brighter as he surveyed the battlefield, his masked skeletal visage inscrutable yet undeniably commanding.

Gazef turned his head weakly, his vision blurring as relief washed over him. A faint smile flickered across his bloodied lips as he finally relaxed.

And with that, the Warrior-Captain's strength gave out, his body collapsing to the ground as unconsciousness claimed him. Ainz glanced down at Gazef's prone form, his crimson orbs dimming slightly behind his mask.

Nigun's gaze darted between Ainz and Thoth, his composure crumbling further with each passing second. The weight of the two figures flanking him pressed down like an unyielding storm, and for the first time in his life, Nigun Grid Luin—the leader of the Sunlight Scripture—felt true fear.

Ainz's deep, resonant voice cut through the heavy silence, each word carrying the weight of inevitability. "I am Ainz Ooal Gown," he declared, his tone calm but laced with chilling authority. "Supreme Overlord of the Great Tomb of Nazarick. And I will give you one chance to explain your actions… Before you face the consequences."

Nigun's hands trembled as he clutched his blade, his mind racing. This was no mere mortal, no ordinary adversary. This was something beyond comprehension. Something far worse than death.

The battlefield stood still, the tension thick enough to smother the air itself. Nigun gritted his teeth and forced his trembling body to steady itself. Despite the fear and other things clawing at the edges of his mind, he clung desperately to his pride and authority. He drew his blade with a shaky hand, his once-confident blue eyes darting between the two unearthly figures standing before him.

Clearing his throat, Nigun stepped forward, attempting to mask his fear with a facade of authority. "Ainz Ooal Gown," he began, his voice wavering only slightly before regaining its usual edge. "And you, creature,"—his eyes flicked briefly to Thoth—"I commend your theatrics, but this changes nothing. You stand against the Sunlight Scripture, the chosen of the gods. Surrender now, and perhaps I will consider sparing your lives."

The attempt at bravado fell flat, his words ringing hollow even to his own ears. The troops behind him exchanged uneasy glances, their faith shaken by their commander's uncharacteristic tone.

Ainz tilted his head slightly, his crimson orbs glowing brighter beneath his mask. His gloved hand rested casually on the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown, its seven serpentine heads gleaming ominously in the sunlight. He let out a soft, derisive chuckle.

"You really have balls of steel, don't you?" Ainz's voice dropped an octave, cold and laced with disdain.

And then, without another word, he activated [Aura of Despair I].

A wave of crushing dread rippled outward, emanating from Ainz like a tidal wave of pure malice. The air grew heavy, suffocating, as an invisible force wrapped around every soldier on the battlefield. Their knees buckled, and a cacophony of gasps and stifled cries filled the air.

Nigun stumbled back, his bravado shattering as terror overtook him. His legs gave out beneath him, and he fell unceremoniously onto the dirt. His blade slipped from his fingers as he held up his trembling hands, as if they could shield him from the overwhelming presence before him.

"P-Please…" he stammered, his voice cracking as he scrambled backward. "Spare us—no, spare me!"

The soldiers behind him stared in disbelief, their commander's sudden betrayal and cowardice striking them like a physical blow. Loud murmurs of outrage rippled through their ranks, but none dared to take any action.

Ainz, unmoving, tilted his masked face downward to regard Nigun with the cold detachment of a god deciding the fate of an insect. "Spare you?" he echoed, his voice sharp with mockery.

"How amusing. You would abandon your men so easily. How fitting for a coward hiding behind the guise of faith."

As Nigun blubbered incoherent pleas, another presence surged forward behind him.

Thoth moved with deliberate precision, his boots crunching softly against the blood-soaked earth. The crimson glow of his eyes intensified, and the weight of his presence pressed down on the remaining soldiers like a vice. His wings unfurled slightly, the scattered eyes embedded within them opening one by one, each gleaming with disdain.

The soldiers recoiled as an invisible force swept over them, a dark aura radiating from Thoth that seemed to crawl into their minds. Their vices—jealousy, greed, fear, guilt—rose to the surface, clawing at their sanity like ravenous beasts. The stronger-willed among them simply trembled and clutched their heads and dropped their weapons, their minds unraveling under the pressure.

The majority collapsed, their minds shutting down to protect their sanity from the pressure.

Thoth walked slowly, each step deliberate, until he loomed over Nigun from behind. Without hesitation, he reached down and grabbed a fistful of Nigun's blond hair, yanking his head back to force their gazes to meet. Nigun's bloodshot eyes were wide with terror as he stared up at the marble-like face of his captor.

"You know," Thoth began, his voice low and cold, "I was considering enlisting you under Nazarick. To see if there was even a sliver of redemption in you. But sadly, you got unlucky." His grip tightened slightly, drawing a pained gasp from Nigun. "In exchange for saving Gazef, Lord Ainz would take you and your men for… experimentation."

Thoth's eyes flashed with the briefest flash of empathy before it was drowned out by scorn as his black appendages loosely crawled around his neck, "My condolences," he finished as he threw Nigun to the ground.

Nigun's trembling lips parted, his voice barely audible. "E-E-Experimentation…?" He whimpered, terror and confusion rushing through his mind as he felt a horrific realization dawn on him.

Ainz stepped forward, his gloved hand raising the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown.

With a pulse of magic, his mask and gloves dissolved into nothingness, revealing his skeletal visage in full, confirming Nigun's worst fears. The crimson orbs in his empty sockets flared brightly, casting an eerie light across the battlefield. The very sight of him seemed to drain the color from Nigun's face.

Ainz's voice echoed across the field, amplified by his magical presence. "Rejoice, scum," he intoned, his tone as cold and final as death itself. "For you may yet find redemption… in the service of Nazarick's experiments."

The soldiers of the Sunlight Scripture watched in horror as their leader, the once-proud Nigun Grid Luin, let out a strangled cry of despair.

With a quick wave of his hand, Ainz teleported them to Nazarick, leaving only Thoth and him in the field.

-x-x-x-

Merry Christmas gang! May Jesus cover you in his blessing.

Hope you haven't been naughty, or else... cracks whip... You'll get punished.