The Undead King Read online

  Sometimes they’d wasted the whole day just chatting. They’d get so excited about the silliest things. They’d plan quests and hunt for treasure like there was no tomorrow. Once they mounted a sneak attack on a castle that was an enemy guild’s base and stormed right in. Once they were nearly annihilated by one of the strongest secret monsters in the game, known as World Enemies. They’d discovered some previously undiscovered resources. They’d positioned all kinds of monsters in their base to take care of any intruders.

  But now there was no one left.

  Out of forty-one players, thirty-seven had quit. The other three had remained members in name, but Momonga couldn’t remember the last time they had come before today.

  Momonga opened the menu to access official data and looked at the guild ranking. Now there were slightly fewer than eight hundred guilds. Once they had been ranked ninth, but they had fallen to twenty-ninth. This is our rank on the last day, huh? The lowest they’d ever been was forty-eighth.

  That they had only slipped that far was not thanks to Momonga’s efforts, but to the items left by former guildmates—what remained of the guild’s former glory.

  It was a wreck now, but it had had its heyday.

  And the fruit of that period was their Guild Weapon, the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown.

  Momonga didn’t want to tarnish the memories harbored there, but a rebellious feeling also smoldered within him.

  Ainz Ooal Gown valued majority rule. Although Momonga’s title was guild master, the duties he performed were mostly routine, often communications-type tasks.

  Maybe that’s why now that no one was left, he thought for the first time that he’d like to try claiming a guild master’s rights.

  “Well, I can’t do it looking like this,” he muttered and went into the menu. He would equip himself in a manner befitting the master of a top guild.

  The gear in Yggdrasil was classified by how much data it contained. The more data, the better the item. Players started off with low-tier gear, then medium-tier, upper-tier, superior-tier, legacy, relic, legend, and finally god-tier, the highest possible.

  Nine rings, each with their own power, adorned Momonga’s ten finger bones. His necklace, gauntlets, boots, cape, cloak, and circlet were all god-tier. From a monetary point of view, each item was an astonishingly rare and valuable treasure. The splendid robe mentioned previously hung from his shoulders.

  A reddish-black aura shimmered up from beneath his feet, giving him an ominous, evil appearance. But he wasn’t using a skill—the robe data had room, so he had just plugged in an “ominous aura” effect. It wasn’t like anything would happen if someone touched it.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Momonga saw various numbers pop up to indicate his stat increases. Having fully equipped himself, he nodded in satisfaction. Now he looked like a guild master. Then, he reached out and grasped the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown.

  The moment it was in his hands it began radiating a shimmering, dark red aura. Anguished human faces would occasionally form, warp, and dissipate, seemingly so real one could almost hear their tortured cries.

  “…Maybe we went a little overboard.”

  Finally, on the last day the servers were running, this elite staff was in the hands of its rightful owner. While confirming the icons indicating his dramatic stat boosts, he still felt lonely.

  “Well, symbol of the guild, shall we see what you can do? Or should I say ‘symbol of my guild.’”

  2

  Momonga left the room they called the Round Table.

  Unless they specified a different location, anyone with a guild member ring would appear there when they logged in. If anyone was coming back today, they would be standing by in that room. But Momonga understood that there was practically no chance of any other guild members making an appearance—that he was the only player left who wanted to spend the final moments of the game in the Great Tomb of Nazarick.

  Suppressing the surging waves of his emotions, Momonga walked silently through his palace.

  It was a majestic, ornate world reminiscent of Neuschwanstein Castle.

  Chandeliers hung at regular intervals, shining warm light from the high ceilings. The polished floor of the wide hallway reflected the light as marble would, gleaming as if it were full of stars. Upon opening any of the doors to the right or left, the grandeur of the furnishings inside would take one’s breath away. If any nonmember came here, they’d be amazed—amazed that such luxury could exist in this legendary place, the notorious Great Tomb of Nazarick, where the largest army in the game’s history (an alliance of eight guilds, plus other affiliated guilds, mercenary players, mercenary non-player characters (NPCs), and so on, for a total of 1,500 men) had once arrived on a punitive expedition only to be completely wiped out.

  The Great Tomb of Nazarick was originally constructed with six levels, but after Ainz Ooal Gown conquered it, it was dramatically transformed. At present, there were ten underground levels, each with its own distinct features. Levels one through three made up the grave. The fourth was an underground lake. Five was a glacier. Six was a jungle. Seven was lava. Eight was wilderness. Nine and ten were a shrine. This was the headquarters of a guild that broke the top ten back in an era when there were thousands, the guild of Ainz Ooal Gown.

  What better word for this world than divine? Momonga’s footsteps echoed throughout the halls accompanied by the hard clack of his staff on the floor. After walking a ways down the wide corridor and turning a number of corners, he saw a woman coming toward him from up ahead.

  She was gorgeous, with abundant blond hair falling around her shoulders and distinctive facial features. Her clothing was a maid uniform with a broad apron and a long, unobtrusive skirt. She stood about five feet, seven inches tall and had long, delicate limbs. Ample twin swells asserted themselves by straining against the chest of her outfit, but the overall impression she made was one of modesty.

  Soon the gap between them had closed; the woman moved into a nook and bowed deeply to Momonga.

  He responded with a small wave.

  Her expression didn’t change. There was such a slight hint of a smile that it was difficult to tell if it was there or not, just as before. In Yggdrasil, expressions never changed, but in her case, the implication was a little different.

  This maid was an NPC, a “nonplayer character.” She was not controlled by a human but moved on her own according to her AI—a program. Basically, she was a walking mannequin. No matter how sophisticated she was or how politely she bowed, it was all just according to her programming.

  Momonga’s response might have seemed a foolish way to treat a mannequin, but there was a reason he wanted to show some consideration.

  The forty-one NPC maids working in the Great Tomb of Nazarick were all based on custom drawings. The artist was a guild member who made his living as an illustrator and who was now serialized in a monthly manga magazine.

  Momonga gazed fixedly at the maid. He was looking at the girl certainly but mainly her outfit. It was surprisingly detailed. The meticulous embroidery on the apron was especially impressive. But how could he expect anything less when the artist was a guy who said, “A maid’s uniform is a battle-deciding weapon!”? Momonga fondly recalled the graphics producer’s screams.

  “Ahh, right. Even back then he was all about ‘Maid uniforms for great justice!’ Actually, even the manga he’s doing now has a maid as the heroine. Are you making your assistants cry with all the detail work, WhiteLace?”

  HeroHero had designed the AI program, along with five other mates.

  In other words, this maid was another former guild members’ collaboration, so it would be sad to simply ignore her. Just like the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown, this maid was a shining memory of the good old days.

  As Momonga reminisced, the maid, who had straightened up, cocked her head as if to say, May I help you?

  Oh, is this the idle pose she would strike if you were near her for a certain amount of time? He searched his memory an
d was impressed by how detailed HeroHero’s program was. He knew there must be other secret poses. He was taken by the urge to see them all, but unfortunately, time was running out.

  He checked the semitransparent watch face on his left wrist.

  He indeed had no time to waste.

  “Thanks for all your hard work,” he said to the maid out of sentimentality and then slipped by her. Of course, there was no reply, but he felt like it was the proper thing to do on this last day.

  Leaving the maid behind, Momonga continued walking.

  It was not long before a grand staircase with its primarily red carpeting came into view. At least ten people could walk abreast down it with their arms outstretched. Momonga slowly descended to the deepest level of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, the tenth level.

  The stairs led to an open hall where he found several people.

  The first one he saw was an old man superbly dressed in a traditional butler uniform. His hair was completely white, as was his beard, but his back was as straight as the blade of a steel sword. Conspicuous wrinkles in his chiseled Caucasian features gave him an air of kindness, but his penetrating eyes were like those of a hawk targeting its prey.

  Behind him, trailing him like his shadows, were six maids. These, however, were equipped completely differently from the one before.

  They all wore armor based on manga-style maid uniforms featuring metal vambraces and greaves of silver, gold, black, and other colors, with white lace headpieces instead of helmets. They also each carried a different weapon. Basically, they were maid warriors.

  Their hairstyles were varied as well: a chignon, a ponytail, a straight cut, braids, rolled curls, a French twist. The only thing they had in common was how beautiful they were, but even their beauty came in various types: bewitching, wholesome, Japanese…

  Naturally, they were also NPCs, but unlike the earlier one who was made pretty much for kicks, these existed to intercept raiders.

  In Yggdrasil, there were perks for guilds who possessed a base of castle size or larger. One was that there were NPCs who would protect said base. The Great Tomb of Nazarick had undead mobs. They could be up to level 30 and it didn’t cost the guild anything if they died—they’d just respawn after a set amount of time. The only thing was that the appearances and AI of these auto-spawning NPCs couldn’t be edited, which made them too weak to repel other players.

  But then there was another perk: the right to create the guild’s own NPCs from scratch. Even a weak guild that occupied a base of at least castle size would get at least seven hundred levels to dole out to custom NPCs as they liked. Since the level cap in Yggdrasil was 100, one could, for example, make five level 100s and four level 40s. And for this type of NPC, it was possible to adjust their looks, AI, and gear for those who could equip it. With this system, guilds could station guards far stronger than the auto-spawning mobs at key locations.

  Of course, there was nothing forcing people to create NPCs with combat in mind. There was one guild, the Great Cat Kingdom, that made all their NPCs cats or other members of the Felidae family. It wouldn’t be mistaken to say that this ability was meant to bring out the personalities of the guilds.

  “Hm.” Momonga brought a hand to his chin and looked at the butler bowing before him. He didn’t come here very often, since he normally used teleportation magic to go from room to room. That must have been why the sight of the butler and maids here made him feel so nostalgic.

  He stretched his fingers out for the menu and opened up the members-only guild page. Checking a box there instantly caused the names of all the NPCs in the room to appear over their heads.

  “So that’s what you’re called.” He cracked a smile. It was part pained wince for not remembering their names, but also part nostalgic grin, as memories of the dispute over what the names should be surfaced from his fragmented recollection.

  Sebas the butler’s background said he could perform all the duties of a house steward. The team of combat maids, known as the Pleiades, reported directly to him. Besides them he was also in charge of the male servants and assistant butlers.

  There was probably more detailed background info in the text log, but Momonga wasn’t interested in reading any more. He didn’t have much time left, and there was somewhere he wanted to be sitting when the servers shut down.

  Incidentally, the reason all the NPCs, including the maids, had detailed backstories was that Ainz Ooal Gown was full of people who loved to write them. And because there were so many illustrator and programmer members, everyone was really obsessed with getting the graphics right, which in turn spurred on the writers’ imaginations.

  Sebas and the maids were meant to be the last line of defense against raiders. Not that anyone thought it was possible to repel players who managed to penetrate this far, but at least NPC guards could buy some time. That said, no players had ever gotten to the tenth level, so all the guards had ever done was wait.

  They had never received orders from anyone, but just stood by wondering if or when an enemy would arrive.

  Momonga tightened his grip on the staff.

  It was stupid to feel sorry for NPCs. After all, they were just data. If it seemed like they had emotions, it just meant the human who designed the AI had done a good job.

  But…

  “A guild master should make his NPCs work!” While teasing himself in his head for sounding so arrogant, he added, “Follow me!”

  Sebas and the maids acknowledged the order with a bow.

  Momonga’s guildmates didn’t mean for these NPCs to leave this area, and Ainz Ooal Gown valued majority rule. It was unacceptable for one person to do what he wanted with things that everyone had made together.

  But it’s the last day. Everyone would surely forgive me on the last day, he thought as he continued on with multiple sets of footsteps sounding behind him.

  Presently they arrived at a large domed hall. Crystals in four colors on the ceiling gave off white light. There were seventy-two alcoves dug into the walls, most of which contained a statue. There were sixty-seven in all, each in the form of a demon.

  This room was called Lemegeton after the famed grimoire also known as The Lesser Key of Solomon. All of the statues, carved out of ultrarare magical metals, were golems based on Solomon’s seventy-two demons. The only reason there were sixty-seven instead of seventy-two was that the person making them got bored partway through.

  The crystals on the ceiling were monsters. During an enemy raid they could summon the major elementals (earth, wind, fire, and water) and simultaneously bombard the enemy with wide-range area-of-effect magic attacks. If all of them were mobilized, it would be enough power to take out two parties of level-100 players (twelve people) with ease.

  This room was the very last line of defense before entering the heart of the Great Tomb of Nazarick.

  Momonga took the servants with him as he crossed Lemegeton to stand in front of a large door. It was a huge—probably more than sixteen feet tall—double door with extraordinarily detailed carvings: a goddess on the left and a demon on the right. They looked so real it seemed like they might jump off the door to attack. Despite that, Momonga was fairly sure they didn’t move. “If a bunch of heroes manage to get this far, we should welcome them. A lot of people say we’re evil and whatnot, so let’s lie in wait for them here like final bosses.” The suggestion was adopted by majority rule.

  “Ulbert…” Ulbert Alain Odle had been the most obsessed with the word evil out of anybody in the guild. “That guy just never got through adolescence…”

  Momonga took another sentimental look around the grand hall.

  “…Okay, you’re not going to attack me, right?”

  His anxiety was not unwarranted. Even he didn’t know how everything in this labyrinth worked. He wouldn’t have been surprised if one of the retired members had left a twisted “parting gift,” and the guy who made this door was definitely the type to do something like that.

  Once, he said he wanted t
o show Momonga a powerful golem he had just made, but when Momonga booted the golem up, a bug in the combat AI caused it to start throwing punches at him. He still wondered if that had been on purpose.

  “Hey, LuciFer. If you attack me today of all days, I will be seriously angry.”

  Momonga touched the massive door with caution, but his worries had been for nothing; it opened automatically but slowly, with appropriate gravity.

  The mood changed.

  The previous room had already been as tranquil and solemn as a shrine, but the scene here surpassed even that. The new atmosphere exerted a physical pressure; the exquisite workmanship could be felt weighing on one’s entire body.

  The room was huge—a hundred people could come in and there would still be space left over—and the ceilings so high. The walls were primarily white with ornamentation done mainly in gold. The magnificent chandeliers that hung from the ceiling were made of jewels in a rainbow of colors and cast a dreamy sparkling light. On the walls, hanging from the ceiling to the floor, were large flags, each with a different crest—forty-one in all.

  On the far side of this lavish gold-and-silver room was a short flight of ten stairs. At the top was a throne carved out of a giant crystal, its back practically tall enough to reach the heavens. Behind it was a large scarlet tapestry bearing the guild’s crest.

  This was the most important location in the entire Great Tomb of Nazarick, the Throne Room.

  A “wow” escaped Momonga’s lips as he admired the overwhelming room. He was sure the workmanship was the best, or maybe second best, in all of Yggdrasil. That made it a perfect place to spend the last few minutes of the game.

  It was so large, the sound of his footsteps seemed to vanish into the room as he entered. He eyed the female NPC standing next to the throne.

  She was gorgeous, wearing a snow-white dress. Her faint smile was like that of a goddess. Her lustrous hair was a black the exact opposite of her dress and reached all the way to her waist. Her golden irises and vertical slit pupils were odd, but they didn’t detract one bit from her peerless feminine beauty. She did, however, have thick horns that curled forward out of her temples, like a ram’s. But that wasn’t all. Black angel wings sprouted out of her back near her hips. Perhaps because of the shadows caused by her horns, her goddess smile seemed like it might be a mask hiding something else. She wore a glittering golden necklace like a spiderweb covering her shoulders and chest. In her delicate silken-gloved hands, she carried a strange wand-like object. It was about eighteen inches long, its end tipped by a black orb that floated there with no supports.