Starting from Ainz Ooal Gown, simultaneously traveling through time

Chapter 180: Nazarick Arrives 200 Years Later

Two hundred years later.

On an ordinary night.

The aftershocks, which occurred a century ago, arrived as expected.

On the eastern plains, at the edge of the Kaz Plains, south of the Angelicia Mountains, and beside the Tob Great Forest, space suddenly warped.

The distortion wasn't a crack or a collapse, but a strange, regular fluctuation, as if some enormous thing was squeezing in from another world.

Then, a huge building appeared out of thin air.

It was a fortress, or rather, a tomb.

The gray stone walls rise from the ground, layer upon layer, and the whole building exudes an indescribable sense of oppression, as if it was meant to stand here, but was just previously obscured by something.

The Great Tomb of Nazarick.

At this moment, in the deepest part of the Great Tomb.

The tenth level, the throne room.

This is a huge space with an amazingly high ceiling, large enough to accommodate hundreds of people without feeling crowded.

The walls are carved with intricate patterns, and directly in front of you is a huge throne.

[The throne of kings].

On that throne sat a figure.

It was a skeleton.

His empty eye sockets burned with a scarlet light, and a magnificent black robe wrapped around his skeleton. He held a scepter inlaid with a huge gemstone in one hand, while the fingers of his other hand rested on the armrest of the throne.

He sat there, motionless, like a statue.

But those red-glowing eyes flickered with complex emotions.

Flying squirrel.

The master of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, and the guild leader of Ainz Ooal Gown.

He should have logged off.

Today is the day the game shuts down, the last day. He logged on specially to accompany this game, which has been with him for twelve years, on its final journey.

It's past midnight; the server should already be shut down.

He should go back to that cramped apartment, stare blankly at the empty screen, and accept the fact that the game that had been with him for twelve years had come to a complete end.

But now, he's sitting here.

It was still the throne room, still the throne, still the skeletal body.

Everything around us remained unchanged.

The flying squirrel raised its hand, looking at the bare, white bones of its knuckles.

What happened?

He tried to access the control interface.

No response.

He tried to bring up the menu.

No response.

He tried using a forced logout.

No response.

All the familiar buttons and all the familiar operating methods had disappeared. The system functions that had accompanied him for two years seemed to have been wiped away by an invisible hand.

The flying squirrel fell silent.

If the server shutdown was delayed, the GM should have issued an announcement; if it was a system malfunction, there should at least be an error message. But right now, there's nothing.

Only him, and this silent, great tomb.

He tried to recall what had just happened. At midnight, he was sitting on the throne, waiting to be forcibly logged out, and then—and then nothing happened.

Consciousness was not interrupted, and the screen did not go black.

He just sat there.

The clock had long passed midnight; if this were a game, he would have been kicked out long ago.

He tried to access the chat function, his friends list, and call the GM, but none of them worked.

It's as if they've been completely forgotten by the system.

"What exactly is going on—"

He patted the armrest of the throne, making a dull sound.

"—What on earth is going on?!"

An angry roar echoed through the throne room before fading away.

Just as he was filled with rage and had nowhere to vent it, a voice rang out.

"Lord Momonga?"

The voice was very soft, with a hint of caution, yet it reached his ears clearly.

The flying squirrel suddenly raised its head.

The voice came from below the throne, from the woman who should have been an NPC, but who had raised her head at that moment.

Albedo.

She knelt on the steps before the throne, her snow-white dress shimmering in the dim light, her long golden hair cascading down, and her eyes, those eyes, shone with light.

It's not the mechanical light programmed into a system, but real, soulful light.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

The flying squirrel opened its mouth, but for a moment it didn't know what to say.

He looked around.

Sebastian stood not far away, where the old gentleman-like butler was watching him with a calm gaze.

The combat maids beside her all looked up, their eyes shining as well.

They were all looking at him.

Everyone was waiting for his orders.

The flying squirrel's thoughts raced.

NPCs can talk? Yes, you can download voice packs in the game to make NPCs give simple responses, but those are just preset audio files, not real dialogue.

But now, Albedo is asking him, "What's wrong?"

This is a question, a response that needs to be made based on the situation on the ground, which cannot be accomplished by pre-set audio.

What happened?

I'm not sure about flying squirrels.

From now on, we can only take it one step at a time.

The flying squirrel took a deep breath—if the skeleton could breathe—and then opened its mouth.

"It's nothing," he said, his voice hoarse, "it's just—there are some things I need to confirm."

Albedo nodded without asking any further questions.

Is it okay to give them orders?

Although I don't know what will happen, can I still be sure that all the NPCs in this tomb are loyal to me?

Perhaps the people in front of us are no longer the NPCs that everyone created.

Ainz Ooal Gown looked at Sebastian, his mind filled with images of company executives issuing orders to employees, and then he began to give commands to these suddenly come to life NPCs.

"Sebastian".

"Yes, sir." The old butler bowed slightly.

"Take one of your combat maids and go out to take a look," Momonga said. "Scout out the surrounding terrain, find out what kind of place this is, and come back quickly."

Sebastian paused for a moment, then bowed and accepted the order: "Yes, sir, Ainz."

Then, Ainz Ooal Gown declared with great fanfare, "Pleiades, listen to my command! Except for the maids who are with Sebastian, everyone else, proceed to the ninth level to stand guard and prevent the enemy from invading from the eighth level."

"Yes, sir, Momonga."

The maid waiting behind Sebastian responded respectfully, indicating that she understood the order.

After Sebastian and his battle maids knelt before Ainz Ooal Gown, who was seated on the throne, they rose and left.

The enormous door opened and then closed again.

Sebastian and his maids disappeared on the other side of the door.

As Feishu watched their figures disappear through the door, a complex mix of emotions welled up inside him.

The NPC left the Great Tomb, which is impossible in the game. NPCs are designed to guard their base and can only stay in the area they are responsible for.

But now, Sebastian and his companions have stepped out of that door.

Thankfully, they all obeyed the orders and didn't say "no," which is great.

The flying squirrel was initially very nervous, but only now did it begin to relax a little.

Fortunately, these NPCs maintained their original loyalty.

However, although the NPCs remain loyal to me, they would probably lose their loyalty in the real world if they encountered a boss who always makes mistakes.

Or is it that as long as you input information indicating loyalty, you will never betray them?

If their loyalty wavers, what can be done to keep them loyal?

The flying squirrel could not know.

Momonga looked at the person left behind beside him, Albedo, who had been waiting there the whole time.

Albedo smiled and asked Ainz, "So, Ainz-sama, what should I do next?"

"Um—Yalbed, may I touch you?"

"Sure, Momonga-sama."

Albedo rose and walked to the throne.

The flying squirrel reached out and touched her face.

It's warm.

Soft.

It's not a cold model made of data, but real, warm skin.

The flying squirrel's hand moved away from Yarbed's face and began to move downwards.

His fingers trembled slightly.

He knew what he was doing. In YGGDRASIL, any behavior that is considered 18+ is strictly prohibited, not even hints are allowed, and violators will be permanently banned.

If he were still in the game, his hand would likely be forcibly pushed away by the system, or an alarm would be triggered directly.

But nothing happened.

His hand rested on Albedo's body, feeling her real warmth.

The virtual world has become the real world?

No, that's impossible.

But once this thought arises, it's impossible to shake it off.

Momonga withdrew his hand and looked into Albedo's concerned eyes.

"Go and inform the guardians of each level," he said. "Have them assemble at the arena on the sixth level. I have something to announce."

Albedo seemed a little disappointed, but she still nodded and turned to leave.

The throne room fell silent once more.

Momonga sat alone on the enormous throne, looking out over the empty hall and in the direction where the guardians, no longer just statues, had gone.

His mind was in turmoil.