Starting from Ainz Ooal Gown, simultaneously traveling through time

The sky over the dead city is always gray, as if covered by a layer of dirt that can never be washed off.

In the square, Benjerry's two heads and four eyes stared intently at the uninvited guest who emerged from the shadows of the ruins.

"Are you alright?" Grote asked again, his tone still flat, making it impossible to tell whether he was concerned or sarcastic.

Benjer did not answer.

His six arms had quietly accumulated magical power, and his two heads were rapidly exchanging glances. The one on the left meant "This person is up to no good," while the one on the right meant "Of course I know that."

Although he didn't know Grote's specific purpose, Benjerry was very clear about one thing: in this dead city that had been abandoned for hundreds of years, the sudden appearance of a fellow human who took the initiative to talk to him was definitely not a good thing.

Strike first to gain the upper hand.

The thought flashed through both heads simultaneously.

Benjer did not hesitate at all. All six arms were raised at the same time, and obscure syllables poured out from both mouths at the same time, like two turbid streams merging into a torrent.

"[Seventh-Tier Magic: Chain Dragon Lightning]!"

boom!!!

The gloomy sky was instantly illuminated, and countless bolts of lightning exploded from his palm. The lightning twisted and roared, like dragons that had come to life, baring their fangs and claws as they pounced on Grote.

The thunder roared so loudly that the entire square trembled, rubble tumbled down from the ruins, and the air was filled with the acrid smell of ozone.

The soul fire in Grote's eye sockets flickered.

The seventh order.

He watched silently as the overwhelming thunder dragons surged toward him, a complex mix of emotions welling up inside him—envy,感慨, and a touch of relief.

"Seventh-tier magic, huh?" he murmured, his voice drowned out by the thunder, only audible to himself. "And I only know sixth-tier magic. No wonder I'm a member of the [Abyss Body]."

He certainly doesn't know the seventh order.

Although he had absorbed the vast amount of death energy accumulated in the entire dead city through the [Death Spiral (Pseudo)] ritual, which greatly increased his strength, it was only an accumulation of quantity, not a qualitative breakthrough.

Magical proficiency isn't something that can be increased out of thin air by absorbing death energy; he still hasn't crossed the threshold between the sixth and seventh ranks.

But it's okay.

He won't be a seventh-order rank, but he will be something else.

The thunder dragon had already pounced on him, and the closest one opened its giant mouth made of lightning, about to swallow him whole.

Grote's figure suddenly disappeared.

[Dimensional Movement].

This is a third-tier spell. Among spatial movement spells, it is one tier lower than the [Teleport] spell and has a shorter range, but its advantage is that it can be activated instantly without requiring a long casting time.

It's perfect for dodging attacks.

The next second, he appeared on the top of the ruins on the other side of the square, completely unharmed.

Benjer did not give chase, nor did he intend to.

From the moment Lei Long made his move, his mind wasn't on "killing the opponent," but on "forcing the opponent back and then running away."

Now that Grote has been forced out, this is exactly the opportunity he's been looking for.

Both heads began chanting simultaneously, this time the incantation for [teleportation].

In just three seconds—no, two and a half seconds—he could leave this damned dead city, return to the [Abyssal Body]'s stronghold, and then—

A knife suddenly appeared in front of him.

Benjer didn't even see where the knife came from.

It seemed to grow out of thin air, carrying a cold arc of light, and slashed straight at the gray-black protective shield around him.

That was the [Death Sanctuary] he had released earlier.

The eighth-tier defensive magic can theoretically withstand most physical and magical attacks. As long as the opponent's attack intensity does not exceed the protection's limit, he can withstand the damage without being hurt.

Yes, theoretically...

Click~

The protective shield shattered.

Like an eggshell being hit by a hammer, it shattered cleanly and decisively, not even lasting a second.

But that instant of shattering still bought Benjerry precious time to react. He forcibly interrupted the incantation of [Teleportation], and his figure blurred—

[Dimensional Movement].

He teleported to a place ten meters away.

Huff... Huff... Both heads were panting heavily at the same time. Although they didn't need to breathe, they would still subconsciously do this when they were nervous.

What was that just now?

Before he could finish his thought, the blade flashed again.

This time it didn't disappear, but appeared directly in front of him, moving so fast it was like teleportation—no, not just like, it was teleportation.

A flash of light.

Cut horizontally.

Benjeri's body was neatly cut in two at the waist, becoming Gojo Satoru.

The moment his upper and lower body separated, he didn't even feel any pain. The body of an undead was already numb, and physical damage was like a breeze to him, nothing serious.

What truly terrified him was the knife itself.

He recognized it; the knife was almost identical to the one that had been stuck in his chest before.

"What...?"

He lowered both heads at the same time, looking at his body that had been broken in two, and then raised his head again to look at the owner of the knife.

Gray robe, pure white mask, exposed dark gold pupils.

The figure was slowly emerging from the air, like a traditional Chinese ink painting being gradually sketched out from the blank space.

He stood three meters away, holding the knife in his hand, the blade still covered with fragments of Ben Jerry's body.

"You...you actually caught up with me!" Ben Jerry shouted, the voices of the two heads overlapping, sounding both shrill and hoarse.

Of course he recognized the outfit.

Just before, it was the same gray robe, the same mask, the same golden eyes that had rubbed him to the ground, chopped his death knight to dust, and made him flee in a sorry state, even sticking a knife into his body before leaving.

Now this person has appeared in front of him again.

Could it be the same person?

He looked at the gray-robed man opposite him, and the more he looked, the more he felt the resemblance, and the more uneasy he became.

Same build, same mask, same eye color.

This is definitely the same person.

What Benjer didn't know—of course he didn't know—was that the person in front of him was indeed not the same one who had hit him before.

The previous person was called "Number 1", and the person in front of you is called "Number 5".

But they look so alike.

After all, they wore the same gray robes, the same masks, the same dark gold pupils, and even their postures were almost identical.

Number 5 stood still, tilting his head as he looked at Benjeri, whom he had cut in half.

He watched as Benjeri's upper body floated in mid-air, his six arms flailing wildly, and his two heads chattering away, looking nothing like someone who had just been cut in half at the waist.

Number 5 was a little confused.

He remembered that the last time he used this move against Grote, it didn't seem to work very well. Grote could still move and counterattack even after being cut in half at the waist, so it didn't seem to have any effect.

Now he used the same tactic against Benjeri, who was also an undead, and the result was the same.

Number 5 silently made a mental note: the waist-cutting move is useless against the undead; remember that for next time.

But that's okay, if one trick doesn't work, we'll try another.

His eyes suddenly lit up.

Those dark golden pupils seemed to be ignited, golden light surging from the depths of their pupils, growing brighter and more intense.

Then—

【Words of Power: Moment】!