"What exactly are you two doing? My current position is the Empire's Knight Commander—are you deliberately trying to push Gilknifer into a rage?"
Ren Kuroda leaned back, feigning mild exasperation as Soryuka and Ourelle fussed over him with constant offerings of food and drink. Despite enjoying the attention, his eyes kept flicking toward where Gilknifer and the others were seated.
"Lord Ren Kuroda," Soryuka's voice whispered in his mind, "as one of the supreme rulers of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, how could you sit with those inferior creatures, sharing a meal of the same rank? Everything we've done is under Lord Demiurge's instructions. He said it would inspire the emperor to trust you more. And should the emperor lose his temper, it only proves he's limited—hardly worth noticing."
Ren Kuroda listened silently. Demiurge's intelligence was unquestionable; it was only Soryuka and Ourelle's initiative that he worried about.
After waiting for several tens of minutes, perhaps satisfied that the display had been sufficiently theatrical, the flying squirrel finally signaled that the Empire's delegation could be received.
Through the teleportation portal, Gilknifer and his entourage stepped into the main hall of the Great Tomb of Nazarick. Their jaws dropped at the sight.
At first, Gilknifer had assumed that a subterranean ruin could not possibly be anything remarkable. Dark, damp, maybe a few skeletons or cobwebs—that was all he had imagined.
But the moment he glimpsed the tip of Nazarick's iceberg, both he and his knights were stunned.
The palace before them was beyond opulent. Even the decorative items lining the hall were priceless magical artifacts. The structure itself was enormous—walking its corridors took nearly ten minutes—and every detail screamed unimaginable wealth.
By comparison, his own palace seemed almost trivial.
And Gilknifer's assessment of their combat power? He realized now just how spectacularly wrong he had been. Along the path alone, they had passed no fewer than a hundred Death Knights standing guard.
He had heard reports from the "Four Strategists" before; Nazarick was a multi-layered underground fortress. What they were witnessing now was only the tiniest fraction of Ainz Ul Gown's power.
The deeper they went, the more Gilknifer's confidence waned. Ainz's abilities were far beyond what he had anticipated. Military might, wealth, even beauty—all surpassed anything he had at his disposal. There was nothing for him to exploit.
And judging by how they had been treated outside, Ainz Ul Gown was not only powerful but extremely intelligent.
This mission had already gone from risky to near catastrophic. Their goal was no longer equal negotiation—it was survival, and ensuring the Tomb did not take action against the Empire.
"Lord Ainz, Emperor Gilknifer Luenfarodel of the Bahas Empire, along with his retinue, requests an audience," announced Demiurge, his voice cold and commanding. "However, I judge they are not yet ready to receive your teaching. Kneel, and prostrate yourselves!"
Demiurge, a demon with the power of absolute domination, pressed an invisible force onto the Empire's delegation. Everyone except Gilknifer and Ren Kuroda was slammed to the ground.
Gilknifer resisted only because of the high-tier magical artifacts he wore; Ren Kuroda's resistance came purely from his own power.
Seeing Gilknifer still standing, Albedo and Shaltear readied themselves to attack. But in the next instant, Ren Kuroda flashed forward, placing himself between them and the emperor.
"Is this how you treat guests?" he demanded. "The emperor came personally, in good faith, to apologize. If your actions go too far, even if it costs my life, you'll see what our attitude truly is."
As he spoke, a hand swept through the air. A glowing blue magic circle blossomed, and in the next instant, a streak of azure flame shot toward a nearby Death Knight.
The poor creature, already a lowly guard forced to stand long hours for no pay, was obliterated instantly by the sixth-tier spell Azure Firefall, leaving nothing but a pile of ashes with a shriek.
The four Imperial Knights kneeling nearby gaped. A supposedly nearly invincible undead had been annihilated in a single strike.
They panicked, realizing how reckless Ren Kuroda had been. To Nazarick, these Death Knights were likely nothing more than mid-tier trash. The true power sat elsewhere—six or seven entities far beyond their comprehension.
Even if Ren Kuroda could fight, could he face all of them? The only way to survive was submission. Any further provocation could lead to their immediate annihilation.
Gilknifer, staring at the charred remains of the Death Knight, was equally stunned, a creeping panic rising within him. He had instructed Ren Kuroda to show strength if necessary—but not like this.
The gulf between their forces was immense, yet Ren Kuroda had openly challenged their guards. A bare-faced act of provocation. Even though the previous envoy, Ourelle, had done similar feats, she had the capability to withdraw safely. These men did not.
And yet, could Gilknifer fault him? No—he had prompted this, and Ren Kuroda's actions protected the emperor's dignity in the moment.
Unable to abandon such a loyal subordinate, Gilknifer's mind raced, formulating how to respond diplomatically. Above the throne, Ainz Ul Gown clapped his skeletal hands together.
...
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