Before making his move, Momonga first made use of a battlefield-awareness ability, sweeping his senses across the enemy ranks to check whether any hostile players were present among them.
The result was obvious—there were none.
Raising one hand high into the air, the skeletal overlord prepared to cast a super-tier spell: "Dark Fertility: Sacrificial Offering." His posture had just settled into place, his other hand already gripping a cash-item that would allow him to bypass the casting chant—
—and then, suddenly, Ren Kuroda's voice echoed directly inside his mind.
Hold back a little. I've spotted something unusual among the Kingdom's forces.
"Unusual?" Momonga's raised hand froze midair. The oppressive aura of magic pouring from his body was enough to make anyone tremble in fear—but without using the cash item, the casting time for a super-tier spell was painfully long.
"I already checked," Momonga replied inwardly. "There are no YGGDRASIL players in their army."
Ren's tone remained calm.
"The last batch of players who came to this world—the ones known as the Thirteen Heroes—that was two hundred years ago. And before them, there were the Six Great Gods and the Eight Greed Kings. As long as they weren't non-human races, most of them shouldn't still be alive by now."
He paused slightly before continuing.
"But that doesn't mean they left nothing behind. Powerful relics… descendants… traces of their existence. You've already seen proof of that, haven't you?"
Momonga's empty eye sockets flickered.
Shalltear.
"That incident," Ren continued, "is the perfect example. They arrived earlier than we did. They likely understand this world far better than we do—even why we were brought here from YGGDRASIL in the first place."
A faint edge entered his voice.
"And right now, I'm sensing several individuals in the Kingdom's army whose presence is… abnormal. Are you really going to expose your full power and risk drawing their attention?"
Momonga hesitated.
Before he could respond, another voice slipped into their mental exchange—smooth, composed, and unmistakably devoted.
Albedo.
Her opinion aligned perfectly with Ren's.
She urged caution.
Now that the Great Tomb of Nazarick had established the Sorcerer Kingdom, and Momonga stood as its public ruler, any hostile force that viewed them as an evil anomaly would naturally target him first.
Out of concern for his safety, Albedo had even temporarily handed over Nazarick's internal affairs to Sebas. Clad in full black armor, she had opened a gate directly from Nazarick and arrived on the battlefield alongside Cocytus.
The enemy had already demonstrated the ability to control Shalltear.
That alone proved they were not to be underestimated.
Demiurge and Shalltear themselves were too sensitive to appear openly before the Kingdom, leaving Albedo no choice but to personally take the field.
"So," Momonga said slowly, still holding his pose, "I maintain the casting stance for the super-tier spell… while Albedo and the others protect me, and we wait for these hidden enemies to reveal themselves?"
There was a trace of helplessness in his tone.
He had finally found a perfect opportunity to make a grand, awe-inspiring entrance—and now he was stuck standing there with one arm raised like a statue.
Yes, the overwhelming magical pressure radiating from him ensured no one could ignore his presence… but maintaining this pose indefinitely was, frankly, ridiculous.
Ren cut him off.
"No need. I'll handle what comes next."
His voice turned sharp.
"You cancel the super-tier spell and focus on sealing the space with magic. I'm not about to do all the work just to have them escape using a World-Class Item."
Ren wasn't making things up to stop Momonga from unleashing a massacre.
He had genuinely detected something.
Several powerful presences… and among them, a few that felt eerily familiar.
The Black Scripture.
Through his Mind's Eye ability, Ren had already identified individuals he hadn't personally met—but recognized nonetheless.
If one were to name the first external force Nazarick had come into contact with in this world, it would undoubtedly be the Slane Theocracy's Six Scriptures.
Their appearance here wasn't surprising.
Back in Carne Village, Momonga had defeated Nigun of the Sunlight Scripture and left behind the name Ainz Ooal Gown. Now that same name had risen as the Sorcerer King and was preparing to strike the Kingdom—of course the Theocracy would take interest.
They might not yet know the connection between Shalltear and Ainz…
…but Momonga's identity as an undead alone guaranteed they would never be allies.
Among the Six Scriptures, the Black Scripture stood at the pinnacle.
And this time, five of their elites had arrived.
The Fourth Seat, Divine Chant.The Fifth Seat, One-Man Army.The Seventh Seat, Thousand-League Astrologer.
And beyond them—
Two beings who had inherited the blood of the gods themselves.
The Black Scripture's First Seat… and the extra seat known only as "Zesshi."
The First Seat—arrogant enough to take the title Black Scripture as his own name—was said to surpass even Solution of the Pleiades, whose level was as high as 57. For humans, that was an existence bordering on the untouchable.
As for Zesshi—
A half-blood descendant of the Six Great Gods.
Her mother was the Theocracy's secret weapon. Her father, the Elf King.
Her hair and eyes were split between black and white, like a perfect duality carved into her very being.
Though she appeared to be a young girl, she was in truth older than most of the Theocracy's leadership. A transcendent existence—one who had surpassed the limits of humanity itself.
A monster capable of standing toe-to-toe with Nazarick's Floor Guardians.
And they weren't alone.
In another direction, Ren had detected yet another overwhelming presence.
A figure clad in sky-blue armor.
From head to toe, the armor concealed everything—no face, no flesh, no hint of identity.
But Ren knew.
That armor… was empty.
A puppet.
It was being controlled remotely through some unknown power.
The proof was simple—despite the immense strength radiating from it, there was no life force, no presence. Not even the faint aura that undead beings typically carried.
And the one controlling it—
Ren recognized him.
One of the last surviving members of the Thirteen Heroes.
The Platinum Dragon Lord.
A being known as "Tsa"—the strongest Dragon Lord still alive.
Two hundred years ago, he had fought alongside his companions by remotely controlling this very armor.
A wielder of Wild Magic.
And in terms of raw power—
He might very well surpass even Zesshi.