The Dark Warrior (18 page)

Nfirea had a strange feeling. He’d never heard of such an item before. And he couldn’t imagine forgetting the name. This item was too special—anyone would remember the name after hearing it just once.

There
were
several types of summoning items and there was a tree of summoning magic, but the monsters that were summoned in those ways disappeared without a trace after a set amount of time. They certainly didn’t stick around long enough to do odd jobs. If that were possible, it would rewrite magic history.

And then, how much would such an item be worth? Enri didn’t seem to have realized its monetary value, but if she had sold it, it would probably have fetched enough to allow her to live the rest of her days in leisure. The reason she had used this rare item was to stop any more blood from being shed in the village.

The goblins summoned by Enri’s wish (a wish that Nfirea approved of as befitting her) protected the village; they also looked up to Enri as their master and followed her orders—they’d even started tending the fields. Apparently they were even teaching the villagers how to defend themselves with bows and arrows, and so on. Given all that, they were now accepted as a strange sort of new villager.

Perhaps the fact that they had been attacked by fellow humans was behind their welcoming the goblins. A slight distrust of humans might have made it easier to embrace the goblins who had helped them out in a pinch. And it probably also helped that the one who had granted them the items was their savior, the mysterious caster.

“So this Ainz Ooal Gown—that was his name, right?—what kind of person is he? If I can meet him, I’d like to thank him personally.”

Nfirea had never heard of anyone called Ainz Ooal Gown. Well, Enri hadn’t seen under his mask, so even if it were someone he was familiar with, he wouldn’t have a way of knowing. But this was the kind of guy who could give away an extraordinarily valuable item without another thought—if Nfirea had met him, he wouldn’t be likely to forget.

When he told her that honestly, Enri was visibly disappointed. “Oh. I thought maybe you would’ve known him…”

Her reaction caused Nfirea’s heart to leap into his throat for a moment, and his back oozed an unpleasant sweat.
Looks don’t matter so much when you’re that strong. He’s probably got any number of women coming after him.
Those remarks from the previous night crossed his mind, and his breath grew ragged without him realizing it.

Desperately fighting back his terror, he asked her, “E-Enri, what’s this about? You want to meet this Gown guy a-and then what?”

“Huh? I mean, I’d like to say a proper thank-you. There’s talk of building a little bronze statue so we never forget our debt to him, but I should probably thank him personally, too…”

Sensing none of the emotion he had feared in her reply, Nfirea heaved a sigh and his shoulders relaxed. “Oh. Oh! Okay…phew. Yeah, of course you would want to thank him. If you can think of anything that would distinguish him from other people, maybe I can remember someone…and it would help narrow it down… Oh, hey, do you know what kind of magic he used?”

“Oh, magic. I-it was amazing! This bolt of electricity went
zap!
and the knight was killed in one hit.”

“Electrici… He didn’t happen to say, ‘Lightning,’ did he?”

Enri looked into space for a few moments and then nodded emphatically. “Yeah! …I’m pretty sure he did say something like that.” She added that she thought it was something longer, so Nfirea figured he must have said something before casting.

“I see… So he used a tier-three spell, then.”

“Is ‘tier three’…that amazing?”

“Well, if I had to pick between ‘amazing’ and ‘not,’ I’d have to say it’s pretty amazing! I can only use up to tier two. Tier three is the highest level attainable by normal human beings. Anything higher than that is the realm of people with inborn ability, et cetera.”

“I knew it! Mr. Gown is amazing!” Enri nodded, impressed, but Nfirea had the feeling this caster was capable of more than tier three. And he could give away that magic item like it was nothing! He might even be able to use heroic fifth-tier spells.

What was a guy like that doing in a village like this?

As he puzzled over that, Enri dropped a bomb that blew all of his questions away. “And that’s not all! He gave me this bright red potion—” Nfirea was so startled he practically forgot everything else they had talked about. He recalled a conversation…

“I’ll pay, so will you get me some details about the guy who gave you this potion?”

Lizzy’s question had caused the warrior Brita to furrow her brow. “So you get some details and then what?”

“Get connected, of course. If we get to know each other, maybe he’ll tell me where he got that potion! Who knows? He might even just mention it in the course of a conversation. If he’s an adventurer, I’d like to make a request. What do you think, Nfirea?”

That was how Nfirea ended up requesting Momon by name. He was supposed to make friends with him and get him to talk about the potion and/or see if he let any information slip while they were out gathering herbs.

Maintaining a level tone of voice so as not to let his inner agitation show, Nfirea asked her, “Uh, what kind of potion was it?”

“Huh?”

“Oh, you know, I work with potions, so…”

Enri told him everything about the potion she was given, mentioning several times along the way how amazing Ainz Ooal Gown was. A minute ago this would have made those ugly emotions come back, but now Nfirea’s mind was full of other things.

Countless facts were suddenly tied up with a bow; it was as if a whole pile of veils had been removed at once to reveal what was beneath.

There was a very good chance that the potion in E-Rantel and the potion Enri drank were the same kind. And in both cases, a pair of travelers—a caster and a person in black full plate armor—was involved.

There’s only one conclusion, but there are two people who could be Ainz Ooal Gown.
He figured from the way Enri was talking that Ainz was a man, but he asked just to be sure. “Are you sure this Ainz Ooal Gown…person…wasn’t a woman…?”

“Huh? Yeah! I mean, I didn’t see his face, but the voice was a man’s.”

That still wasn’t absolute proof. There were spells and even magic items that could change a person’s voice. But Narberal as Ainz Ooal Gown seemed awfully unlikely. Her cruelty and slight airheadedness made her too different from the calm, intelligent hero Enri spoke of. The one who seemed more like Ainz was—

“Did he happen to mention that the name of the person in black armor was Albedo?”

“Y-yeah…”

Nfirea had heard that name before. There was his answer.

Momon was Ainz Ooal Gown.

If that was true, it was a shocking revelation—the caster who saved
this village was also an incredibly strong warrior. There were warriors who
trained in magic, but it wasn’t possible to have the cake and eat it, too. If a magical magic-type caster wore heavy armor, they generally couldn’t cast much of anything.

This guy could cast tier-three spells and knew his way around a sword well enough to be an adamantite adventurer. It sounded like a joke. If it were true, he was a hero among heroes.

But then why had he been asking so many questions as they traveled? The answer that made the most sense was that he had learned the magic of some far-off country and didn’t know about the way things were here. If that were the case, it would explain why he had a potion made in some unheard-of way.

Nfirea couldn’t keep his breath steady in light of how valuable all this information was, even though he knew Enri was staring at him.

He also had mixed emotions. When he thought of the man who had saved Enri by giving her a potion, he hated himself, who was trying to learn bit by bit how to make them. He felt like dirt. Enri would probably fall for the other guy. Thinking that made him want to throw up.

“A-are you okay? You’re really pale all of a sudden.”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. Just…”

If he could save countless lives by learning how to make that potion, it might erase his guilt. But the probability of that happening was low, and he was armed with only his desire as an apothecary to find out. The one he was up against was a powerful warrior and superior caster accompanied by a gorgeous woman and in possession of unfamiliar potions—a chivalrous soul who saved damsels in distress. Nfirea despaired at the gap between himself and Momon—no, Ainz Ooal Gown.

“What’s wrong? You’re acting kind of weird.”

“Ahh, nah. It’s nothing.” He smiled, fighting the nausea, but he wasn’t sure if it was convincing, and from the look on Enri’s face, it was not. “…What should I do? You don’t like guys who do bad things in secret, right?”

“I believe there are some things that should stay with a person until they’re called to be with the gods—especially if it’s something that could hurt someone else. But it’s different if you hide something and someone else gets hurt. Nfirea, I won’t hate you, so if you committed a crime you should turn yourself in!”

“…No, I didn’t commit a crime.”

“Oh! …Yeah! Of course—I didn’t think you did! You would never do something like that!”

Watching her force a laugh, he felt his shoulders relax. “But thanks, Enri. I know it sounds weird, but I feel better. For now, I’ll just work toward getting on an equal footing…”
So I can hold my head high in front of you. So I can tell you that I like you, that I love you.

Enri hadn’t had any idea what he was talking about for a while now, but she reacted to his determination with a smile and a nod anyway.

“Huh…” Ainz looked at one part of the village and made a noise that might have indicated he was impressed. Several villagers had formed a line. It was a truly diverse mix of ages and sexes. There was a plump mother in her forties but also a boy who was just entering his teens. The thing they had in common was the earnest, even hostile, look on their faces. Nobody was there to play around.

A goblin holding a bow was speaking to them. Despite Ainz’s superior sense of hearing, he couldn’t make out what was being said at such a distance.

After a little while, each villager slowly nocked an arrow. The bows were plain, short ones. They looked shabby and awkward, like the villagers had cobbled them together themselves.

They drew their bowstrings all the way back. Their targets were bundles of straw made to look like humans set up a little ways away. The goblin must have given an order—everyone loosed at once.

Despite how sad the bows looked, the arrows flew admirably and burrowed into the bundles of straw. Not a single one missed.

“Not bad!” Ainz found himself uttering modest praise.

“Do you mean that?” Narberal’s questioning voice came from where she was standing by behind him.

She probably doesn’t understand why these achievements are worth praising. These villagers are like children playing with toys compared to the archers of the Great Tomb of Nazarick.
Realizing how she felt, the illusion face under his helmet smiled wryly. “As you point out, nothing about their technique is particularly amazing. But these people never used a bow until ten days ago. They aren’t out here because their spouses, children, and parents were killed, and they don’t want to let another attack like that happen—they want to bare their fangs and fight when it does! That’s worth praising, isn’t it?” What was praiseworthy was the hatred that drove the villagers to do this, that was all.

“M-my apologies. I didn’t think that far…”

“That’s fine. It’s not necessary for you to think that far. And truthfully, there is nothing whatsoever worth praising about their technique.”

Watching another wave of arrows slice through the air and sink into the bundles of straw, Ainz suddenly had a thought.
How strong will these people be able to get?
And then,
How strong will
I
be able to get?
He had come to this world at the
Yggdrasil
level cap of 100, with his surplus experience points maxed out at 90 percent of a level. He wasn’t sure, but he figured that since his abilities had carried over, that XP would, too. The question was whether it was possible to get that 10 percent and reach level 101 or not.

He had the feeling he was approaching the answer.
I can’t get any stronger than this. This is my peak power.
Ainz’s power was one that could not grow, whereas the villagers’ weakness represented unfathomable possibilities. If by some chance, beings in this world had no cap and could advance past a level comparable to
Yggdrasil
’s 100, there would come a day when the Great Tomb of Nazarick would no longer be able to triumph. And that—

“It’s definitely not impossible…”

The Slane Theocracy’s Six Gods, whom Ainz suspected were players, appeared six hundred years ago. The gap between their arrival and his own was a mystery, but given that grotesques had no notion of a life span and the fact that some classes had special life expectancies, there was a fairly good chance they were still alive.

If the Six Gods were still behind the Slane Theocracy, the country might have been using them to power level (earn XP faster than usual by assisting a strong player) for the past six hundred years, in which case it wouldn’t be strange if they had people over level 100.