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... ngdom of Ainz Ooal Gown. A being who ruled the 41 Supreme Beings, and the last of them who had remained in Nazarick. At this moment, that entity who should have been enjoying the attentions of his subordinates was curled up on a soft bed, reading a book.

Said bed had been moved from the Great Underground Tomb of Nazarick to this place ― to the private chambers of the former ruler of E-Rantel, Mayor Panasolei, which had been partially remodelled and converted into Ainz’s own chambers. Ever ...

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

“Atticus!” Daphne screamed. “I don’t want any heads! Let them go.”

“Fair enough.” Atticus shrugged, and flicked his fingers.

There were two identical cracks as both necks snapped at once.

Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles.

“I told you to let them go!” Daphne cried out.

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