Overlord (WN)-Volume 2 Chapter 19

Frostfire10:

I AM BACK!!!!

Ok everyone, thank you so much for your patience and not conspiring to murder me for my blasphemy against the Supreme Beings by taking a long hiatus. For this, I owe you an apology and an explanation.

I live in Singapore and I am taking my A-Level exams. This is basically the SATs, but on crack and steroids. The exams themselves take a month and the preparation for them lasts even longer. They technically haven’t even ended, but the remaining ones are fortunately MCQ only, so yeah. Also, Singapore conscripts its 18 y/os and my enlistment date is the 3rd of Jan. So I have about 1 month to translate. Wish me godspeed.

Anyway, apart from this chapter, there are only ten left in the series before Maruyama completely dropped it. Almost done! BTW I did my best for the prose here and I can actually say I am happy with my translation!

TLDR: Thank you so much for your patience. Without further ado, enjoy!

Evil God Part 2

Translator: Frostfire10

He was the death of all living creatures, the end of existence, an evil without compare.

With just a thought, he could make you feel that the gates of hell had opened on the mortal plane. His presence alone made one feel that their spirits and souls would rot away.

In front of despair incarnate, the man felt the desire to vomit cascade within him.

However, with an audible gulp, he quashed it. He could not show such a foolish act.

—This was natural.

Before him sat the God of Death, resting on his throne.

He could not read the intent within those emotionless eyes. He could not tell what he thought of them.

Would this end well, or end badly?

In such a tumultuous situation, should he show even a shred of disrespect, death would be their fates. Even in the off chance that their lord somehow found his existence amusing, he would still have to grovel for forgiveness.

The proper manners that the weak should adopt when facing the strong numbered three: worship, submission, and admiration,

Anything apart from that – vomiting or escaping – was sure to earn his ire.

Every weakling present understood this. This was why, and how, despite their incessant trembling, not a single person made any foolish moves.

Excellent.

Slightly, ever so slightly, he praised his fellow comrades.

Up until now, although they had the same goals, they deserted each other from the depths of their hearts. But that had changed.

He felt a sense of kinship to those who unwaveringly stood to face death.

In fact, it was not just the man.

In the eyes peering out from behind their masks, one could see small flickers of similar emotions.

It was not rare for those who faced similar experiences to develop a sense of closeness, especially in this case, where they would feel something even stronger.

As he watched them, the King of Destruction who sat on his Ebony Throne, he slowly, ever so slowly, parted his lips.

Yet no words came out, before he closed them again.

It was as if he was at a loss for words—

The man mentally shook his head in disbelief.

No.

He was not doing that. He was probably releasing a sliver of the cold air that resided in his body.

The man felt it. The goosebumps that crawled all over his skin. The frosty gale that danced over the tips of his fingers.

While it was possible for this to be a figment of his imagination stemming from the fact that he was naked, it was certainly not the case.

The being before him was the King of the Dead. A god from the realm of myths.

The Evil God they worshipped, was a nameless god, said to be one with death and darkness. He built his palace in a land of freezing cold, where he held dominion over the frozen souls of the dead.

Then, what he just did, was most definitely the release of a breath that could freeze their souls.

The man felt, slightly, ever so slightly, relieved.

Despite the actions of their god, not a single person had died. Their lord and saviour did not wish for it.

Slow, careful, and terrified, he looked towards his god.

Lingering on his face, the man's gaze soon moved towards his clothes.

He wore robes, simple ones that most nobles owned. Symbols were sown into various locations around it, emphasising his status and regality.

As a noble, the man was trained from birth to be able to appraise anything, and his years of experience was telling him that this item could not have been made by human hands. The cloth glistened softly under the candle light, but rather coming from the material itself, the reflective properties most likely originated from magic.

The value of it was unfathomable.

(No, purchasing the clothes of gods…. Such arrogance)

Although his lord was merely sitting on a throne of ebony, the glistening of the stone under the lights made it seem like it were obsidian.

(How beautiful. Of course he would not choose to sit on that pitiful offering)

He turned his gaze to look upon the toppled stone throne. A mass of stone that was impossible to move by human efforts.

It was not clear how his lord moved it, but nothing was impossible for the gods.

His lord's name while he stood among humans was Archduke Ainz Ooal Gown.

A magic caster capable of eradicating the Kingdom's forces by his lonesome. When the man first heard about it, he dismissed it as mere propaganda. What was the Emperor thinking, taking the achievements of the Empire's Knights and giving it to one man?

However, with the Evil God of Destruction right before him, he understood. The Royal Army was nothing before this man. In fact, the rumours of him devouring their souls was likely true as well.

(Ah no. He did not devour their souls)

Feeling a sense of superiority over the Knights, the man collected his thoughts.

(The Great Lord of Death freezes his subjects. He collected the souls of the dead to decorate his palace. Ooh, how fearful. Hearing the cries of the dead, begging for freedom in their frozen coffers for all of eternity…. How deserving of his title.)

Of course, those who worshipped such evil too had questionable morals. However, comparing to the sin of using souls as toys, theirs were nothing more than child’s play.

Gazing upon his lord's figure for what the man deemed to be a respectable amount of time, he noticed one man, clothed, walk past him. The man then stood before his fellows, and before hid lord.

(Our prophet….)

He was the highest ranking noble within the congregation, but this man was nothing more than a sacrifice, the man responsible for the every whim of the Evil God. In fact, as he could use magic, there were rumours that he used to be a priest of some sort.

"Great Evil God. We offer you our gratitude for appearing in all your glory before us."

Matching the pace of their prophet, everyone bowed their heads in unison.

"….You may raise your heads."

It was a curt, yet quiet voice.

The tone was flat, causing unease to well up within their bodies.

It felt like they were parlaying with a predator that could become hostile at any moment. It also felt similar to a delayed spell. A dangerous type of magic that could be set off at any time.

However, what was different from those two scenarios was that as a man who was well versed in the affairs of men, he managed to catch a glimpse of their lord's emotions.

The man's experience from dealing with the foxes that were high ranked nobles, he discerned, a small, tiny, miniscule yet present, sense of exasperation.

(No. He's probably giving us a test of some sort)

They were dealing with a God that treated souls as toys. The mere idea that he shared similar mindsets with that of weak and pitiful humans was a laughable one. And thus, the only possible logical conclusion was that such a display was intentional.

In short, their values were being appraised.

The man shivered. If, what if, they failed, what would be waiting for them.

As if reaching the same conclusion as the man, several of his compatriots shivered in unison.

What did he grow tired of? Was he unsatisfied? Was he bored? No one could see through his thoughts.

(Think, think! What is he possibly bored of?)

Normally, as a man that stood above others, such thoughts would be foreign to him. However, he was dealing with a King of Depravity, the wielder of such magical might, someone who could massacre everyone present with just a single thought. No amount of caution was sufficient.

On top of all of this, the Evil God remained silent, his stone-cold lips unmoving.

(Oh Prophet….)

Unfortunately, it was evident that the Prophet too had no clue about what the Evil God was thinking.

(You fool!)

If everything were as usual, the man would not be thinking this. Afterall, their prophet would usually be performing the ritual in silence and in a pre-prepared fashion. In a way, the man even felt respect for the prophet's pious actions.

However, should they upset their god, their very lives would be at risk. So at least put him in a good mood (although gods may not have the same emotions as humans) and let him return to where he came from before he froze their souls.

In fact, a possible reason why he appeared before them as a noble of the Empire was because they had made a mistake in the summoning ritual and summoned him in an unexpected location.

"We make an offering! We sacrifice the souls of the young!"

All of a sudden, the Prophet blurted out those words. It was a sign that they should begin the sacrificial ritual.

This was not a bad move. The man agreed with this decision.

If sacrifices could appease their lord by even just the slightest amount, it would be a miracle. Even in the worst case, it would not worsen the situation.

"….Eh?"

A soft cry of surprise rang out in the empty hall.

It probably came from one of the female maids stationed by the sides.

Interrupting his thoughts, a leather sack was being passed forward in a relay. The end was sealed with rope, but the sack itself was large enough to contain a small child.

Bringing this sack forward was a sign of their willingness to offer its contents to the Evil God, and was a show of their faith. That was precisely the reason why even the old hags with limbs as feeble as dried branches did their best to carry it.

Many children were chosen as offerings.

The man himself carried the sack and handed it over to the person in front of him. And as he looked around—

(….Another one?)

Slightly further away from him, another leather sack was being passed forward.

After some time, the two sacks were placed on the floor before their lord. The reason why they did not check their contents was because even if their minds understood that there were children inside, as long as their eyes did not meet, they could still remain calm and collected.

There was also another reason. And that was to retain their ability to claim that they had no knowledge of the contents. Even if they were caught and their actions brought to light, they could at least argue that they assumed that they were not handling humans, but animals.

Six people came forward. Their hands grasping sharp blades.

They were chosen beforehand. Initially there were three of them, but since there were two sacks, twice the number was necessary.

The man was envious. He craved the chance that allowed them to make offerings to the God of Death.

As the blades rose, and the savage air reached a thunderous peak—

"Stop!"

The voice was heard again. But this time, with a stronger will behind it.

"….Death is my domain. I find it unpleasant for people to unnecessarily take what will eventually become mine."

The six holding swords quickly cowered in fear and retreated. They, who had thought that their offerings would grant them praise, found that they were being chided, resulting in a large shock running through their bodies.

However, his words made sense.

As the ruler of death, all living beings would belong to him. And as one who granted absolute death, having weak humans commit it in his stead would indeed upset him.

"Our deepest apologies!"

The six lowered their heads in unison. The man, and his surrounding compatriots, followed suit. Because the ritual that they had been performing for all this time, was an act that upset the Evil God.

"….T, then, what shall we do with the sacrifices?"

Hearing the words of their prophet, the man shivered. What are you asking a god, he thought.

However, perhaps being a more gentle being than they had assumed, or perhaps he tired of them, their lord responded.

"Leave them. More importantly, you have all made offerings in my name, correct?"

"! W, we have offered many to our lord. May I please ask how has our lord found them…."

His words died off near the end. He knew that his lord did not enjoy their offerings. The only reason why he did not lie, was because he sensed that this choice would lead to a darker fate.

"Yes, yes. Your faith satisfies me. I shall grant you your wishes. What are they?"

They doubted their ears. Their brains could not grasp the words they heard. However, they soon settled into their minds, and an indescribable joy coursed through their veins.

"Of course, your rewards will have to be of the material world. Now, what are they? I hope you won't wish for boring items like money or sex. Granting the position of the Emperor to such a large group would be difficult as well."

The Evil God chuckled.

However, they were not. This meant that their God, could easily give them the position of Emperor.

(So he has become a noble for other reasons. Without a doubt, it is for some nefarious purpose.)

Other members of the group seemed to reach the same conclusion and found their bodies shiver. However, the man could not discern the reason behind them. Was it fear, or were they like him and felt excitement?

As the man felt his mind wander, thinking about all the possible schemes of their lord, their god spoke.

"I ask. What do you desire? What do you all wish for?"

When asked like this, there was but one answer. The reason why the man had joined this cult, the reason why everyone else had joined this cult. That was—

"Immortality*! Please grant us immortality!"

Their voices, filled with their desire, built upon each other, to build a thundering cry.

The moment man was born, he was destined to walk towards death. That was the fate of all living creatures. Their bodies atrophied, their spirits weakened. This was nature. This was fate. Of course, whether man accepted this fate was another matter altogether.

Everyone wished to maintain their youth, to eat delicious food, to surround themselves with gorgeous playmates. Should one ever experience this, even just one, they will not be able to hold back.

However, everyone present had already experienced this as part of being Great Nobles, and thus they were loathe to lose it.

That was why they reached out to magic, to medicine. To faith.

That was the true face of this cult.

The voices of lust were all the same, all of them desiring the same thing, all of them singing in perfect harmony. And although it had become naught but noise, the King of Death seemed to have understood. Their lord slowly raised his hand.

Everyone understood. Silence immediately fell upon the temple.

"—Fools."

It was a quiet voice. But everyone felt the pressure dig deep into their bones. It was as if a wall of stone was inching towards them, slowly but surely, crushing them alive.

"You seek to escape from my reach. To run away. From me."

The hand stretched out, and clenched into a fist.

At that moment, the man, no, everyone, understood his words.

In front of the Ruler of Death, they wished for immortality. They wished to eternally escape from his grasp. Such blasphemy was bound to incur his wrath.

They needed to run.

The thought welled up in their head, but their trembling legs refused to budge. It was as if they were small prey being stared down by a hungry predator. They were simply waiting for death.

However, despite all this, the man cried out in desperation. He might be the first one to die as a result, but yet he still pushed onwards.

"T, that's not the case!"

Just how was it not true? The words he needed refused to come to mind. His mouth opened and closed, like a fish gasping for air, yet nothing came out. The man even felt the perspiration being extruded from his pores.

The Evil God was not a kind one. In fact he was known for his cruelty. And so when they felt even the briefest of respites, they acted like idiots.

He should have just stood there quietly.

A long time passed. Seemingly sick and tired of the man's act, the Evil God shrugged and spoke.

"….I cannot grant you immortality. But instead…. Yes. I shall return you your youth."

"Eh?"

In response to the shocked gasp, the Evil God simply nodded.

The man did not have the ability to even think.

It was taking all of his willpower to prevent his limbs from going limp from the relief flooding his body.

"I shall restore your youth. You desired this yes?"

Goosebumps dashed all over his kin. If their lord's words were true, then a part of their desire for immortality** would be granted.

"But. Doing so for this many people would weaken the individual effects, and restoring it takes time…. About 10 days. Well think of it as a trial period."

The man instinctively glanced around him. His eyes met the gazes of his companions, searching, seeking for confirmation. But, their lord continued.

"If there is a next time, I shall completely restore the youth of the one who has benefited me the most."

Everyone froze.

As the words, the holy gospel, sunk into their minds, audible gulps were heard from all around. The flame of desire flickering within their hearts grew into a roaring inferno.

"Then I grant you all my blessing."

Somehow, escaping their notice, a pair of gauntlets appeared on their lord's hands. His right was pure white, radiating a heavenly light. His left, was jet black, emanating a vile presence. It suited their lord perfectly, and the power it emitted could be felt all the way to their bones.

"Release. Super Tier Magic <Wish Upon a Star>"

A wave of power washed over them, and cries of shock sprang up from all over the room.

The man found the wrinkles on his hands shrinking, disappearing, with smooth skin appearing in its place. The fat that coated his stomach simply fell away, revealing a set of toned muscles underneath. His memory was not affected. He appeared to have completely returned to his youth.

As proof of its existence, he reached out to touch it, and the suppleness of his skin was all that came back.

He was not the only one to experience this change.

People tore off their masks in a childish, impatient fashion.

Women who regained their buxom figures began to laugh hysterically as they touched their chests in confirmation.

Broad shouldered, stocky men posed and flexed their muscles in pride.

The cries of jubilation mixed together into a cacophonous racket exploded from within the room.

"Ah, Kami-sama! You, are the one true God!"

"Great and All Powerful Evil God-sama! Please accept my eternal fealty!"

"Ooh, Absolute One! You, you who have overcome death!"

The man shook with excitement as he expressed his submission.

The source of the magic of priests was the gods. However, this did not mean that gods granted miracles onto their followers. No matter how much they donated, no matter how much their toiled, their youth would not return. It was only after their souls had entered the Kingdom of the Dead that they would be rewarded.

But that was not true.

The Evil God before them made it so.

He would grant them miracles for their service.

Their lord's earlier proclamation of rewarding one person with eternal youth was true.

(It will be me, I will get it…. I will gain eternal youth. Not just for ten days! I need to pile loyalty upon loyalty, and become young forever!)

His greedy eyes swept across the room, and saw gazes filled with the same lust.

(You, and you, and you. No one can take it from me. I am the one who will help our God!)

With this flurry of zealotry, cries of joy and worship filled the room.

"Evil God-sama! Evil God-sama! Evil God-sama! Evil God-sama! Evil God-sama! Evil God-sama! Evil God-sama! Evil God-sama! Evil God-sama!"

The unceasing cries were halted by a single word.

"—Silence"

And silence came. Despite all the joy and shock, all of it was superseded by their desire to please their lord.

In contrast to their lord who looked upon them with disappointment, everyone, the man included, got on their knees, and bowed.

The voice of their lord reverberated through the chamber.

"I have given you the youth you desired. It will last for ten days. Afterwards, you will return to your old decrepit bodies. You wished for this. If you become unable to return to your residences due to this, it will be your problem, not mine."

Someone gulped.

Was this due to despair from the short time given, or born of unease that his servants and family will be unable to recognise him? Even the man did not know.

"And for those humans…. I will handle them. Any objections?"

No one would dare to disagree with the decisions of a god. However, something still needed to be said.

Just as the man was thinking this, their prophet spoke.

"Would you like us to take care of them instead? It is our duty as your servants to cater to your every need."

"There is no need. They are offerings correct? I shall handle them."

"Understood!"

◆

The religious fervour had finally dissipated out of the room. Now, only three people remained inside. One of them was the prophet, who was speaking to the woman.

"Clementine-sama. What should we do? The Archduke has completely stolen control of the cult."

The woman, Clementine, gazed at the toppled stone throne, and then towards its original position. The throne of obsidian was made from magic, and simply vanished into thin air after its occupant had vacated it.

"….Haa."

Clementine drooped her shoulders in both meek acceptance and exhaustion. She was mentally spent. She, who had even drunk mud to survive, was at this state. That was just how big the shock she experienced was. All the knowledge and experiences accumulated within her told her precisely just how ridiculous the earlier show of power was.

And while he did not understand it to Clementine's extent, the prophet too experienced the power that had stolen his cult right before his eyes.

"How should I put it…. So that's what the gods are like? Really."

"……………."

The one who replied was not the prophet, but the figure standing beside the woman. It was an extremely tiny, mummified man.

His gaping eye sockets turned to look at Clementine, and his rotting toothless mouth moved up and down in speech.

As his voice was extremely soft, it was not clear what he said. However, Clementine seemed to have understood him perfectly as she made a tired smile.

"Ah, I'm dead beat. I told you I didn't even want to act."

"……………."

"Yeah. True."

"……………."

"The world is a huge place. How should I put it…. All the confidence I had disappeared in an instant. Or maybe this is just plain stupid. Anyhow, I don't want to meet him again."

The prophet, who had remained silent up until now, looked at Clementine in shock.

Grasping his implied meaning, she frowned.

"There's no way I can win against that," she spat out.

That monster was not on a level where one could talk about chances of victory.

In order to manipulate this cult, they had created an imaginary Evil God, and that thing from earlier indeed had the power of one.

(Thank god I didn't have to fight against it)

Hearing that the Archduke, who was said to have destroyed an army of 100,000 men single handedly, was coming, she wanted to confirm his power for herself. It was only now that she understood how foolish she was.

If she actually fought against that thing, she would not last even a single blow.

The rumours were true.

(Not only does it have monstrous physical power, it's magic ability is on a whole other level…. Maybe around Godkin or Dragon King…. No. It's a super monster that should be thought of as a god.)

Recalling that she had effectively thrown her life away, Clementine sighed.

"Then what should we do? If we leave it like this…."

Seeing the prophet's panicked figure, Clementine glared at him."

"You did your best. Did he not surprise you~?"

"No, I'm extremely shocked. However, I have done my best to fulfill my role for the sake of the Great One."

"Hmmm…."

This cult was originally created to be a subsidiary of Zuranon. The God of Darkness was a being worshipped by the Slane Theocracy and they used it as a base to fabricate the Evil God.

The ritual was done willy-nilly. They simply needed the nobles to kill people to gain dirt on them.

"For the real thing to appear."

"And what should we do? We cannot face the Great One like this."

"Ah true. Then, I'll give the Great One a little present~"

With a sickening squelch, a pair of stilettos slid into the eyes of the prophet. Clementine moved them around for a few seconds and pulled them out with a quick flourish. The prophet's lifeless body fell to the ground. It was still convulsing, but that was simply a physical reaction.

There was no way a creature could live after its brain was stabbed to pieces after all.

She had killed a member of the secret society Zuranon, yet the man next to her showed no reaction. He did not even look at her. The only thing in his empty eyes was complete apathy.

"Anyhow, the moment this cult was lost your fate was decided. And it's better to die this way too."

The convulsions were slowly down, and the body was becoming a stiff corpse. Yet all Clementine did was to look at the dried husk of a man.

"And so, what do we do? Shall we kill each other?"

"……………."

Hearing that the man took it as a joke, Clementine made a wry smile.

"It's a bad habit of mine. Even if I want to be honest, I become all sarcastic…. So. Now what?"

"……………."

"Yes. We'll betray them. I'll catch the local Windflower and hand them the proof of the Fire Miko Princess. And then we run to somewhere where the cult and Theocracy can't reach us."

"……………."

"….Don't be dumb. You saw that thing right? The Great One can't win against it. The only ones who have a chance are probably…. The Godkins. No…. Not even them."

The Slane Theocracy worshipped Six Great Gods. And there were those amongst its population that had inherited the blood of Gods. They had the hidden potential to become much, much stronger.

In a sense, even Clementine had their blood.

However, that was all she had. She was far away from being called a Godkin.

Those were people who had awakened the power of the Gods hidden in their blood.

Currently, the Theocracy only had two. One was the Head of the Black Scripture that Clementine usd to work for, and the other was the Head Priest of the Theocracy.

Their abilities were on another level, and should they use the equipment left behind by the gods, it was said that they could level a continent.

However—

Even Clementine did not know what would happen if they faced the monster in that room.

It was impossible to make a guess with her ability. The two sides were simply too strong for her to comprehend.

"……………."

"Maybe. But for the Evil God to really exist."

"……………."

"True. He might be a regular god, or a Godkin not of the Theocracy. Or maybe a Dragon King? Maybe he has the blood of the Great Sinners…. I don't know. But what are you going to do? If you won't allow me to run away we will fight here you know~"

"……………."

"Ha? Seriously?"

Clementine looked down at teh man in shock. She then stuck her fingers in her ears to check if she did not mishear.

"….No, well it's fine…. The more traitors the merrier. Well, true. Even you can't win against that."

"……………."

Clementine grimaced. The mummy seemed to be saying "no human can win against that you fool," and she agreed.

"Ah. Yes. Anyway let's go to the Holy Kingdom. The Windflower and the cult don't operate there. We'll hang low for a while and think of our next action!"

Stumbling upon a great idea, Clementine smiled, and the man nodded.

◆

"Shit…."

The first thing Ainz said after returning to the safety of the carriage was a complaint.

As an undead, he should not feel tired or fatigued, but yet he found his shoulders drooping.

How the hell am I the Evil God? Why do I have sacrifices? The cult's full of idiots! The mix of all these thoughts was the source of his exhaustion.

Ainz looked at the girls sleeping next to him.

He initially wanted to release them immediately. He did not care for what would happen if he left them there. Or rather, he was honestly troubled over what to do with these sudden "offerings".

These emotions were certainly not pity.

If he were asked if he felt nothing at all, he might scratch his head. He had no qualms about murder, but he was not so cruel as to willingly kill innocents.

There were no positives in killing them either. In terms of experience, they were worth at most two points.

Any deeper thoughts were but a waste of time.

Ainz had no need to care for these worthless lives. They were but mere ants. That was why he first considered abandoning them. It was the least troublesome option.

However, it might be better to portray himself as a kind master, and so Ainz made his choice.

"Head to the guard house. When we arrive, hand over the girls."

At least the blame would not fall on him. He had helped them, and so he would at least see it through.

The envoy was surprisingly obedient, following Ainz's orders, and guiding the carriage through the dark night. Ainz honestly expected one or two carriage swaps, but that did not seem to be the case.

(Were those not because they were wary of me, but because they feared me being tailed?)

On the way over, the windows were boarded up to prevent him from seeing outside, but now they were left open. Ainz stared outside, with an occasional glance towards the girls.

He looked at the one sleeping next to him, and then at the other one sleeping next to Solution. He raised their hair back to get a closer look at their face.

They were beautiful girls, with extremely similar faces.

Their heights and weights were similar as well, so they were probably twins.

"Hmm…."

Ainz gazed upon the faces of the girls.

"….How should I put it, they seemed to be well groomed…."

"Indeed?"

"Ah…."

Compared to Ainz's previous world, the average level of beauty was higher. However, what separated these two from the norm was the air of nobility around them – something Ainz had experienced to death from all of the parties he attended.

Ainz gently took one of their hands, and flipped it over.

It was extremely soft.

"This…. Are they possibly actual nobles?"

Their hands were soft, their nails well maintained. To Ainz, these were the hands of normal children, but in this world, it depended on their lifestyle. The hands of the girls were too beautiful to belong to commoners.

And although their clothes were roughed up, it was clearly better than what most people could afford.

"Solution, the make of their clothes, they seem to be quite well done."

"It is as you say Ainz-sama. They are of course inferior to that of Nazarick, but these are not something commoners would wear."

"I see…. Then there is but one answer. Solution, we are not heading to the guardhouse."

"Understood. Where should we head to?"

"To the mansion."

Ainz could imagine how these noble girls were kidnapped for some reason or another.

"Not bad. They might become a good chip."

If he returned the girls to their homes, he might be able to gain the favour of their house. As he collected he thoughts, Solution opened the window to the coach driver's seat, and gave him new orders.

This incident would be beneficial for him, he thought.

Experience points were necessary in order to use Super Tier Magic, but was the benefit worth all of it? All the experience he gained from the war, and the amount he collected before the transfer was all gone now.

The Super Tier Magic <Wish Upon a Star> did not have a long casting time like that of regular Super Tier Magic, and so he did not have to use his cash shop items, but yet the fact still weighed on the miserly Ainz.

However, if, if the miracle did not happen, would he have been able to smooth things over?

He considered being worshiped as the Evil God and returning home without doing anything.

Ainz set his head at an angle.

"There is no loss to me. Well, at least I hope so."

It was a common case for men to chase after immediate gains and lose out on larger better fish. And if he did not feed these fish, they would be taken by another fisherman.

And from this, it was difficult to say that it was a complete loss for him. He might have gone overboard with the acting, but he himself did not think that it was a complete failure.

"The problem is…. I am assumed to be the Evil God, but are there other cults like this one?…. I should adjust my plans…. Should I get Ray to investigate? How should I be thought of…. A Hero? A God? A Great Noble?…. Maybe…."

"What about a person equal to a god?"

"….Perhaps? I shall add that in."

Ainz turned to look at the girls.

"But they are yet to awake…. Is this magic?"

"No, I sucked some of their blood to investigate, and the effect seems to stem from a drug. It is nothing much…. My apologies, but for human children, it is extremely strong. Their heart rate and internal temperatures are very low. And I believe this drug places a huge burden on the body's organs. For children this young, it may lead to future complications."

"As they were being sacrificed, the strength of the drug did not matter. Instead, it would be more of a problem if they awoke. But…. Will they be alright?"

It would be an issue if they died under his care.

"I believe that it would be best to remove the poison as soon as possible."

Ainz fell into deep thought.

It would be a waste to use a cash shop item to wake them. The more he learnt of this world, the more he truly fathmoed the difficulty of obtaining such items. The very thought of using disposable items on mere noble daughters made him frown. There were people who could cast healing magic in his residence after all.

Additionally, negative status effects like sleep had no effect on undead. As such, he did not carry items that could solve the issue.

In short, Ainz was simply being stingy.

"Call Lupusregina…. Depending on how it pans out, I might need to return to Nazarick and get Pestonya."

*(TL Note: please note that the actual term is perpetual youth and longevity)

** Refer to above Note