NOVEL NEXT Chapter 532
Chapter 532. Victims’ Association
Ainz is a person of extreme emotions, making him quite an engaging listener.
“What the hell!? Then why the heck are those demon folks continuing their invasion just to avoid fighting among themselves? They should just kill each other off like they want!!”
He was furious, almost smashing his beer mug.
“So cruel… too cruel… What the heck are those Reiju tribe folks?! Consider a bit of human dignity, for crying out loud!!”
He lamented while downing wine.
“Hah hah—serves you right! You finally got your revenge on the village, huh! And it’s with Adamas! Well done!!”
He raised his glass of spirits, cheering aloud.
By the way, Ainz’s house had nothing to drink but alcohol. I was offered ale, so I graciously accepted. For dwarves, rejecting offered drinks is seen as extremely rude…
Unless there’s a really good reason not to, even if you can’t drink, it’s customary to pretend to drink. If you’re offered a refill, just show your unemptied glass and say, “I haven’t finished this yet,” and it’ll be brushed off with, “Then that’s fine.”
Well, normally dwarves wouldn’t drink when it’s a gloomy topic or related to life and death… But considering an old acquaintance I thought was dead suddenly turns up as a demon prince, and furthermore, the ultimate masterpiece has been smashed, I wouldn’t be able to get through without a drink or two, or even more.
So, Ainz was in high spirits while listening, but when we reached the part about Enma’s necromancy with “If you die, your secrets might leak through your soul,” and when I mentioned that I annihilated even my subordinates’ souls during the Evaroti battle, he was at a loss for words.
He did regain some enthusiasm after talking about the green bastard’s death and the aftermath of the exile, but went silent when we got to the part about the battle with the Kaizaan Empire.
“So, that brings us to the present.”
I finished recounting everything from moving to the Northern Dwarven Alliance to the vampire hunting.
“……Ugh…”
Ainz, exhausted and without the energy to crack any jokes, held his head in frustration.
—Currently, we’ve moved to a somewhat cramped dining-like room deep inside the mansion.
For some reason, Antendeixis and Odigos are present, of course, along with Barbara, Arthur, and Bishop Lexar, making for quite the crowd of spirits.
It’s just… so… “crammed.” Barbara seems used to it, even sitting upside down on the ceiling to save space.
Actually, with people standing and sitting on the walls and the ceiling, there’s even less escape, making it feel rather claustrophobic…
“I mentioned this before when we talked about Enma, but since it’s out in the open now, there’s no going back. If by any chance you die and get picked up by the demon lord’s necromancer, I’m sorry, but just use fire magic to self-destruct quickly. That’s the price for hearing this.”
“You… you bastard…”
As Ainz looked up at me with resentful eyes.
“I knew there would be a heavy cost but…! Seriously, you…!”
“My bad, my bad.”
I was poked repeatedly, apologizing with a solemn face.
“Apologize a bit more, will ya!? Ugh, damn you!!”
After downing his ale in one go, Ainz let out a huge sigh.
“…That said, to be honest, I’m not too worried. You practiced necromancy plenty in the demon lord’s castle, right?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Then—have you ever called forth a dwarf’s soul before?”
It hit me like a light bulb.
…I had never seen it once.
“From your expression, looks like you haven’t.”
Nodding while pouring ale back into his mug, Ainz seemed rather understanding. While I had called forth souls other than humans, it was mostly beastmen or forest elves; I had never even used dwarves as “material”—neither in my personal experience nor during Enma’s lectures.
“Our ancestor, the Hyddwarf, was born from the volcano known as the ‘Mother of Wrath’ that once existed in the center of the continent. Dwarves are children of fire and stone. Even now, there aren’t any dwarves without fire magic.”
—As he spoke, the face of Bertholdt, the creator of “gunpowder,” flashed in my mind.
A half-dwarf who possessed only earth-based magical power—
“Well, even now, I don’t get along with children of wind and water.”
Ainz chuckled, glancing at the group of forest elves. Liliana smiled shyly, Helena puffed up her cheeks in annoyance, and Orderju laughed heartily, “Ho ho ho.”
Incidentally, the forest elf crew was flat-out declining Ainz’s alcohol offers. It’s incredibly rude, but they did it knowing the custom, and the dwarves would fume, “This is why those long-eared folks!”—a tradition repeated for ages.
Back in my hero days, I was startled when I first witnessed this well-worn skit, attempting to mediate; it’s said to be something akin to playful banter.
Complicated, right!?
“Getting off track here. But I think our dwarves aren’t suited for undeath. That… what was it called? The ‘spirit world’? Toss a dwarf in a dark and deep place, their soul will surely sink to the bottom right away. Your so-called ‘soul decomposition’ happens too quickly, I reckon that’s why there are no dwarven undead. Even if we were summoned, we’re fire-based after all.”
“Hmm… that might be the case.”
“Well, I don’t really know for sure. In any case, a man keeps his word; don’t worry, your secret will be kept even in death. If a necromancer were to call me, I’ll make them regret summoning me!”
While bursting into a hearty laugh, Ainz said this, and I bowed my head.
“Thank you…”
He’s a surprisingly stubborn man. When he decides to do something, he does it. That’s just who he is.
So, I trust him.
“…That said, when you look at everyone gathered here…”
Ainz sighed deeply, surveying the room.
Antendeixis, the “Forbidden Demon God,” lounging lazily with his feet dangling off the table; Odigos, the gentlemanly staff of the “Guide Demon,” leaning against the wall and listening intently.
Seated properly on a sofa is Liliana, the “Saint,” who has endured harsh torture in the demon lord’s castle and spent long times as a dog.
Next to her, Reila, the White Dragon, who was made a sacrifice to the demon prince after her father was killed by me, is sipping water conjured by Liliana’s magic, having placed aside the mug of ale she was offered as a courtesy.
While sitting on the ceiling and observing with interest are Barbara, the Sword Saint, and my friend from my past life, who I killed at Evaroti.
Arthur, the strongest among humans, is sitting neatly in a chair despite being a spirit, while Bishop Lexar and the vampire hunters are sprawled wherever they please—everyone I’ve killed. (Some of them were Reila’s victims too.)
“Look at this…”
Ainz sighed, holding his head in his hands.
“I feel embarrassed that I’ve been sulking for years about not being able to make a piece that rivals Adamas! There are so many people who are facing such heavy burdens in the world…!”
“…Suffering and misfortune can’t really be compared to others, you know.”
Everyone has their own share of pain.
And only those involved truly understand how deep their suffering runs.
“Just by looking at this pile of swords… I can tell how much you’ve struggled.”
Despite being a dining room, there are countless swords scattered around. Just how many swords are in this mansion? I wouldn’t be surprised if it exceeded a hundred—perhaps even a thousand.
And they’re not some half-baked, poor quality blades.
All of them were crafted with the aim of rivaling Adamas.
If you were a swordsman, you’d be itching to have any one of these fine dwarven creations.
“…But still, they’re all just mediocre things.”
With tired eyes, Ainz glanced at the countless swords, muttering as if flustered.
“Honestly, these are far superior to the sword I used in my past life…”
Barbara remarked, somewhere between exasperated and impressed. Being the Sword Saint, she’d surely have a discerning eye for swords.
“I would have loved to have this one while still alive.”
“If I had this sword, I could’ve survived an encounter with Zilbagias without exploding in one hit.”
“This one would be perfect for piercing through intercostal gaps—I’d definitely want it!”
The vampire hunters were lively, excitedly critiquing the swords.
“Just look at this great sword! You can tell the balance was meticulously calculated just by looking at it!”
“Haha… Well, that one was made thinking if it’s bigger, it could match the sturdiness of Adamas. It turned out decent enough, but… the results speak for themselves. Plus, it’s too heavy—there’s no way a human could handle it.”
At Ainz’s words, Barbara smiled faintly in sorrow.
“There was someone… who could’ve handled swords like these.”
“…Hessel.”
When I muttered this, Barbara nodded softly.
—Hessel, the “Frontline Equalizer.” One of my comrades from my past life. He fought alongside Barbara at Evaroti and had a close battle against my former subordinate, Kuvirtar—the Sword Saint.
I had summoned him just like Barbara, but perhaps he was satisfied with having avenged Kuvirtar, and his soul was so worn out—when he saw my face, he just smiled and disappeared.
If Hessel were alive, he would have probably swung this great sword around just like Barbara…
“No matter how many times it’s said, for dwarven craftsmen, it’s counterproductive instead of comforting. Yet, every one of these swords is impressive.”
“…I can feel that my crafting skills have improved, that much is true. But not to the level of Adamas.”
“…I can’t exactly argue with that. When I first saw Adamas, I fell for it. A huge part of Alex’s title, ‘Indomitable Sacred Flame,’ is likely thanks to Adamas, right?”
“Is it that significant?”
I couldn’t help but chuckle at Barbara’s frank opinion. Ainz was laughing too, shaking his shoulders and downing the ale.
“Oh, it’s already empty?”
With the barrel of ale empty, Ainz grabbed a bottle of spirits.
“Ah, sorry, I should hold back soon. I might have to head to the frontlines.”
As he tried to pour for me too, I had to refuse firmly.
“To the front…? As a hero? But are you sure, with your identity and all?”
“Well… it’s not ideal, but I have to face the demon army.”
“Face them? Where at?”
“Where, you ask… they’re attacking this country right now.”
At my answer, Ainz spat out the spirits he had just taken a sip of.
“Ferretoria is under attack?!”
With his beard soaked in alcohol, Ainz was dumbfounded.
“Yes! You didn’t know?!”
—I’m astonished that you didn’t know!!!