The Great Tomb of Nazarick, Ninth Floor.
Momonga was handling his usual paperwork. Though it was nothing more than routine administrative matters, he reviewed each document with meticulous care.
"As expected of me. Finished already."
After dealing with the final file, Momonga let out a quiet breath, unable to hide a trace of pride.
Looking over the neatly arranged stack of processed documents, a deep sense of accomplishment rose within him.
"Momonga-sama, shall we proceed with the routine inspection?"
Albedo spoke from beside him, her Succubus-sweet voice tinged with unmistakable intimacy as it brushed against his ear.
The tone alone made Momonga jolt.
…Sigh.
He let out a silent sigh. A faint, unfamiliar stirring welled up inside him. It wasn't strong enough to trigger [Emotional Suppression], but that only made it worse. Like a tiny flame smoldering under the skin, subtle yet impossible to ignore.
Watching Albedo smile at his side, Momonga often found himself thinking back. If he hadn't rewritten her settings back then, perhaps he wouldn't be suffering like this now.
It wasn't that he disliked Albedo. On the contrary, he genuinely felt fond of her.
And that was precisely the problem.
The more he cared, the stronger his guilt became. He had no idea how to face Tabula Smaragdina.
Albedo was created by Tabula Smaragdina, practically like his daughter. If he were to accept Albedo's feelings, wouldn't that mean…
With such concerns weighing on him, Momonga could only pretend not to notice her devotion, deliberately steering his thoughts away from it.
Recently, however, Albedo's affection had become more and more overt, to the point where Momonga was starting to feel overwhelmed.
(Especially after receiving Herohero's support, as mentioned in Chapter 84.)
Albedo's love burned intensely. And while most of Momonga's desires had long since faded, a tiny remnant still lingered. Unfortunately, Albedo had a knack for drawing it out again and again.
Yet he had no practical way to resolve the tension. The whole situation was maddening.
That was why Momonga absolutely could not let Albedo learn about the existence of [Mask of the Dead]. If she did, he was certain she would attempt a nighttime raid without hesitation.
"Momonga-sama?"
Receiving no response, Albedo gently parted her lips.
"Mm… Not today. Demiurge said he has something to report."
Momonga waved a hand, his voice sounding slightly tired.
Handling Albedo alone was already enough to give him a headache. Now he had to deal with Demiurge as well. Just thinking about it made his nonexistent temples throb.
Worse still, he had to constantly maintain the bearing of the ruler of Nazarick.
Over time, Momonga had grown almost neurotic. Even the angle at which he swung his arms while walking required deliberate consideration. Would this look dignified enough? Would that appear imposing enough?
He was terrified that the Guardians might notice something amiss. The immense pressure nearly crushed this poor skeleton frame entirely.
"Good thing I don't have hair anymore. Otherwise I'd definitely be bald by now."
Momonga muttered inwardly.
He missed Naohara and Herohero terribly. At least with them, he had someone he could complain to.
Unfortunately, those two never spared a thought for his feelings. They were too busy running off on their own adventures.
Thinking about it just made him want to cry.
Of course, he could always contact them through [Message]. But Momonga wasn't fond of lengthy long-distance chats.
Once in a while was fine. Too often, and it started to feel strange.
Like a wife checking up on her husband while he was away on a business trip?
The image alone made Momonga shiver.
"Yes, Momonga-sama!"
Unaware of the storm of thoughts raging inside Momonga, Albedo answered obediently. She stepped aside and continued gazing at him, her eyes brimming with undisguised affection.
That unfiltered stare made Momonga's stomach ache.
But since this was a mess of his own making, he could only bear it in silence.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
A gentle rap sounded at the door. Momonga quickly steadied his emotions and spoke in a dignified tone.
"Enter."
The doors opened slowly, and Demiurge walked in, his lips curved in that ever-present, calculating smile.
The moment Momonga saw that expression, he braced himself.
If Albedo caused him stomach pain, then Demiurge was pure mental fatigue.
After spending time with him, Momonga had come to realize that Demiurge's way of thinking was… unusual. Often so unusual that he could not follow it at all.
Yet as one of the Supreme Beings, he had to maintain a composed, authoritative front, even if that meant pretending to understand and offering vague approval.
"Momonga-sama."
Demiurge gave a slight bow, every movement elegant and measured.
"Mm… Demiurge, what is it you wished to report?"
Momonga nodded, inwardly grateful for his skeletal form. He knew perfectly well that his acting skills were average at best.
If he still had a face, with Albedo and Demiurge's sharp perception, they would surely notice how tense he truly was.
Being an undead did have its advantages. With no facial expressions to betray him, others could only interpret his silence as majesty and terror.
"It concerns obtaining Wild Magic. I have a somewhat immature idea."
Demiurge spoke with a faint smile that clearly suggested he was plotting something.
"Wild Magic?"
Momonga's posture straightened instantly. He fixed his gaze firmly on Demiurge.
Whether it was Momonga, Naohara, or Herohero, all three longed for Wild Magic.
It wasn't merely because its power surpassed that of Super-Tier Magic.
More importantly, it allowed its wielder to negate the effects of World-Class Items.
World-Class Items were, in the game, practically absolute.
No matter how powerful a player was, once faced with a World-Class Item, they were little more than prey awaiting slaughter.
Except for the World Champion, who at least had a chance to resist.
Even a Level 1 Player could potentially kill a Level 100 Player if they possessed a World-Class Item.
"Yes. My plan may allow us to catch a glimpse of Wild Magic. I humbly request Momonga-sama's permission."
Demiurge adjusted his glasses and lowered his head respectfully.
From the look on his face, it was unlikely to be a particularly wholesome plan.
Momonga regarded him with interest, though his tone remained calm and even as he replied.
"Then go on. Let me hear your idea."
"Thank you, Momonga-sama."
"According to our intelligence, Wild Magic is mastered by the True Dragon Lords and cannot be seized by force. If strength will not work, then we take a gentler approach."
"You see, dragons possess inherited memories."
Demiurge lifted his head slightly, his words layered with meaning.
On the Sixth Floor, the weakened Platinum Dragon Lord suddenly shuddered, an inexplicable sense of foreboding creeping over him.
"Oh… I see. So that's it."
Momonga stroked his chin, putting on a look of sudden realization.
In reality, his mind was in complete chaos.
So… what exactly is it?
What is he talking about?
Why did he stop there?
Momonga was screaming internally, yet outwardly he maintained the pose of a ruler deep in thought.
"Hmm. In your estimation, what are the chances of success?"
"Fifty percent. According to our findings, ordinary dragons no longer wield Wild Magic. However, the True Dragon Lords are different. As the apex of dragonkind in this world, their offspring have a high probability of inheriting Wild Magic."
"With Momonga-sama's permission, I intend to administer a potion to the Platinum Dragon Lord, allowing him to continuously provide dragon essence for reproductive experiments."
Demiurge straightened, smiling as he looked at Momonga.
?
Momonga's mind filled with question marks on the spot. His jaw nearly dropped off his skull.
"Ahem. Excellent. Very excellent."
Snapping back to himself, Momonga lightly clapped his skeletal hands, speaking with apparent satisfaction.
As expected of an NPC designed by Ulbert. The thought process was truly on another level.
Still, ridiculous as it sounded, the plan was undeniably bold.
Obtain Wild Magic through inherited memories?
It might actually work.
"Ahem. Very well, Demiurge. You may proceed. You have full authority to mobilize Nazarick's resources. Do not disappoint me."
Momonga nodded, fully endorsing the outrageous proposal.
Even if it failed, it would not be a loss. At worst, they would gain some offspring of a True Dragon Lord. Raising them as pets would not be so bad.
"As you command. I will not fail you, Momonga-sama."
Demiurge bowed deeply.
In truth, he had his own ulterior motives.
The fact that dragons could mate with any race without reproductive barriers fascinated him.
For the sake of the Supreme Being's future offspring, Demiurge believed this warranted thorough research. Perhaps the underlying reason could be uncovered.
With that thought, he cast a glance at Albedo.
Albedo turned her head and smiled back at him. The two shared a perfectly synchronized understanding.
It was obvious they were already working together, while Momonga remained completely in the dark, still under the impression that everything revolved around Wild Magic.
With the discussion concluded, Demiurge departed. His next destination was the Sixth Floor, where he would collect what he needed from the Platinum Dragon Lord.
The meeting room doors closed once more. Momonga turned to Albedo beside him.
"What do you think of Demiurge's plan?"
"I believe it is excellent, Momonga-sama. Demiurge is the embodiment of wisdom. Since he proposed it, he must have complete confidence. As for its deeper implications, I naturally understand."
Albedo replied with an ambiguous smile, one that made Momonga feel she was hinting at something more.
"Ah… I see. Yes. Quite good."
Momonga answered stiffly, then turned away, feeling like he might cry.
Something about this felt off.
Was there more to Demiurge's plan than he realized?
Naohara. Herohero. When are you two coming back?
I really can't handle this alone.