"Celestial Manipulation" was a seventh-tier spell—a level of magic beyond the reach of ordinary humans. Yet to claim that humans could never achieve it was a touch presumptuous.
The reason the human limit was considered sixth-tier was simply because, at present, only one human had managed to wield that level of power: Furuda, the Bahas Empire's chief court spellcaster.
Seeing her magic overlaid and overridden once more, Soryuka didn't show any surprise. Instead, she offered a polite smile. "I see… you prefer cloudy days, do you? Looks like my efforts were unnecessary."
Even the imperial delegation—despite the emperor himself being present—was not allowed to meet Ainz Ul Gown immediately upon arriving at the Great Tomb of Nazarick. The maids insisted they wait outside.
"Damn it… we haven't even met the man himself, and we're already being shown who's boss!"
Despite the prepared seating and fine refreshments, Emperor Gilknifer was thoroughly annoyed. Since arriving, the situation had been entirely under the control of their hosts. He was the ruler of an entire nation, yet here he was, waiting for the other party to summon him.
He had considered losing his temper, but reason prevailed. The towering Death Knights alone were not creatures to be trifled with, and even Raikou, one of the Imperial Four Knights, admitted that confronting such monsters, all four of them together might still not succeed.
Yet these beings of unmatched strength had only been tasked with moving furniture.
Rows of Death Knights carried in chairs, mostly ordinary round tables and armchairs. Then, finally, two Death Knights hoisted a lavishly adorned throne, and Gilknifer allowed himself the faintest smile.
The throne was crafted from gold and stone, inlaid with precious jewels. Even at a glance, it radiated power and prestige—likely more expensive than the furniture in his own palace.
Seeing it, Gilknifer reconsidered. Perhaps Ainz Ul Gown was not deliberately humiliating them. On the contrary, they might hold the empire in some regard, taking the time to craft such a magnificent throne.
But as Gilknifer prepared to sit, Soryuka and Ourelle intercepted him. The throne was not for him.
Upon hearing this, Gilknifer's temper flared. How dare they! He was the emperor; in any other context, the seat would naturally belong to him.
"I'm afraid, Your Majesty Gilknifer," Ourelle said politely, "in the Great Tomb of Nazarick, being human carries no weight. To us, humans are merely inferior beings. We respect only those who demonstrate true strength. This gentleman's abilities have earned him that respect—nothing more."
Both Soryuka and Ourelle bowed toward Ren Kuroda, inviting him to take the throne. Gilknifer's anger boiled beneath the surface.
Ren Kuroda, however, covered his face with a hand, a faintly exasperated expression visible. From the moment he saw the Death Knights bring in the ostentatious throne, he had already anticipated this outcome.
Who knew what Flit the Flying Squirrel had been thinking? Nazarick had plenty of maids—why send Soryuka and Ourelle specifically to host humans, and the emperor at that?
Soryuka's "Justice Value" was negative four hundred; she enjoyed tormenting humans. Having her host the emperor? That was asking for trouble.
Ourelle, on the other hand, had a positive Justice Value. But as her creator, Ren Kuroda commanded a level of devotion from her that no one else could rival. She would never allow her creator to be overshadowed by a mere human emperor.
In short, the two orchestrated a perfect storm that left Gilknifer fuming—but his self-control and patience held. He did not lash out, knowing full well this could all be part of Ainz Ul Gown's plan.
The throne was a trap—a calculated move to embarrass him, test the bond between Ren Kuroda and the emperor, and perhaps even provoke a reason for aggression. A single ruler had achieved a triple advantage. Though he had yet to meet Ainz Ul Gown, Gilknifer already feared the intellect behind such foresight.
"No matter," Gilknifer said, collecting himself. "Ren Kuroda, as guests, we follow local customs. And as the highest combatant among us, it is only fitting that this seat belongs to you."
Within moments, he had regained his composure, smiling and gesturing for Ren Kuroda to take the throne.
Ainz Ul Gown may have been cunning and insidious, but Gilknifer was no fool. Here, he could demonstrate the dignity of a sovereign, even highlighting his capacity for grace and tolerance. Ren Kuroda could hardly refuse; the throne practically forced him into the position.
The treatment for Ren Kuroda contrasted sharply with the rest. While Gilknifer and his entourage waited outside with modest refreshments, Ren Kuroda's table overflowed with delicacies—rare fruits, fine pastries, even red wine.
And the maids, Soryuka and Ourelle, stood dutifully behind him, serving tea and attending to his every need. Their humility was extreme, a stark contrast to their treatment of the emperor himself.
"Ren Kuroda can't possibly be allied with them," muttered Raikou, one of the Imperial Four Knights. "Look at how they treat him… it's almost reverence."
"Foolish," Gilknifer said firmly. "Their purpose is to make us think that way. It only proves that Ren Kuroda is not on their side."
Watching Ren Kuroda enjoy the royal treatment, Gilknifer felt a pang of envy. Though he knew it was deliberate, he couldn't help himself. After all, Soryuka and Ourelle were rare beauties—among the finest in the empire—but here they were serving his subordinate, while he could do nothing but sip his juice.