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Albedo had already changed into an exquisitely elegant white gown. The fabric was as light as a spider's web, adorned with delicate golden thread patterns that traced her flawless figure. Yet her face was unusually pale.
She took a deep breath, cutting off Shalltear's questioning. Her voice carried the faintest tremor.
"Shalltear! I swear in the name of the Overseer of the Guardians of Nazarick—what Lord Ainz and I witnessed was exactly the same! That power… it was no illusion. It was something beyond our understanding, something that could erase us—erase all of Nazarick—with ease."
Her gaze swept across the room before settling on Ainz upon the throne, filled with lingering fear and absolute devotion.
Ainz spoke slowly, affirming her words.
"What Albedo says is true. I, Ainz Ooal Gown, declare in the name of the Supreme Beings that the entity known as Illya is real. Her level is 119. She is an anomaly far beyond our comprehension."
The moment he invoked the authority of the Supreme Beings, all doubt vanished.
A heavy silence fell over the throne room. Only the sound of breathing remained. Even Demiurge, ever composed, had a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. Pandora's Actor still maintained his usual fervent admiration for his creator, but shock flickered in his eyes. Narberal and the other maids kept their heads lowered, not daring to speak.
"Listen carefully," Ainz said, his voice cold as ice. "I hereby issue a highest-priority order: The Great Tomb of Nazarick is to enter maximum alert immediately. However—no one is to provoke, investigate, or attempt contact with the entity known as Illya. Without my direct command, no one is to act."
His gaze hardened as it swept over them all.
"Anyone who disobeys… will be treated as a traitor to Nazarick and to the Supreme Beings. There will be no mercy."
"Understood!" the Guardians answered in unison, their voices echoing through the vast hall.
After the meeting, the Guardians dispersed, each carrying an unprecedented weight in their hearts as they began preparations for maximum alert.
Albedo followed orders as well. But once she returned to her chambers, changed out of her formal attire, and sat alone in thought, Ainz's grave expression and Illya's casually apocalyptic presence replayed in her mind over and over.
"Lord Ainz's command is absolute…" she murmured, a flicker of conflict crossing her beautiful face. "But leaving such an uncontrollable threat alone… is that truly the best choice for Nazarick?"
That woman… she didn't seem purely malicious.
She recalled Illya's expression at the end—almost playful, as if she had gone a bit too far—and how she had effortlessly restored everything, reviving life and repairing the land.
A strong curiosity welled up within Albedo. And beneath it, something she didn't want to admit—a desire to ease Ainz's burden.
"…If I only observe from a distance. No contact. No exposure… that shouldn't count as disobeying, right?"
Once the thought took root, it refused to fade.
In the end, her loyalty to Ainz and her responsibility to protect Nazarick outweighed her strict obedience.
She changed back into her elegant yet practical white gown. Golden patterns shimmered faintly across her chest under the light. Then she cast her highest-tier concealment magic, erasing her presence completely.
Like a serpent slipping into shadow, she quietly left Nazarick.
Based on Ainz's description and the direction Illya had taken, she deduced that Illya was most likely headed toward the Baharuth Empire.
Meanwhile, Ainz sat alone in the throne room, his massive skeletal form sunk deep into the throne. He had dismissed everyone, even his usual attendants.
"Level 119… 119…"
He repeated the number again and again, the soul-fire within his skull flickering violently.
"This makes no sense! How could YGGDRASIL's system allow something like that? A GM? No, the servers are shut down… Then someone who was transported before us and broke the limits? But surpassing the level cap… how much experience would that even take? And that power… that sword of light—that wasn't any normal skill or World Item!"
He desperately searched through every memory from his time as Suzuki Satoru, trying to find anything related to "Illya" or something similar.
Nothing.
"Her behavior… it's completely unpredictable!"
Ainz clutched his skull, feeling like his thoughts were about to overheat.
"She acts like a carefree girl just out to have fun! And that's exactly what makes her terrifying! Someone like that doesn't need logic or purpose. Destroying you… saving you… it could all depend on her mood at the time. Do children need a reason to crush ants?"
A chill ran through him.
He would rather face a powerful enemy with a plan and weaknesses than something utterly incomprehensible—something chaotic, yet overwhelmingly strong.
"What kind of person is she… in the real world?"
He tried to construct an image.
"Her tone, her expressions… that casual curiosity, that faint sense of superiority… she doesn't seem like an adult hardened by society. More like… a high schooler? Seventeen? Eighteen? No older than twenty. A girl whose mind may not even be fully mature… holding power that could destroy the world?"
That conclusion made things worse.
An adult's malice could be predicted. But a "child" with godlike power? That kind of unpredictability was lethal.
"Preferences… she seems to like food?"
He recalled reports of her massive appetite at the tavern, and how she had asked about desserts before leaving.
"That might be the only clue… but who would dare approach her with that? What if she doesn't like the taste…"
The more he thought about it, the bleaker everything seemed. The Sorcerer Kingdom he had built might look like nothing more than a sandcastle in her eyes, something that could be kicked apart at any moment.
"We need to stay hidden… be even more cautious. Until she shows clear hostility, or we find a way to deal with her, Nazarick must not be exposed to her."
While Ainz spiraled deeper into analysis and anxiety, Albedo, relying on her exceptional concealment, had already located that golden figure once more—this time on a bustling commercial street in the capital of the Baharuth Empire.
Illya was exactly where she expected.
As if she had completely forgotten the earlier incident, Illya was happily hopping between food stalls and dessert shops. Her hands were full of treats—pastries in different flavors, candied fruits, and what looked like a local milk-based drink.
Her cheeks puffed slightly as she ate, her bright blue eyes narrowing in satisfaction like a cat that had successfully stolen cream.
Sometimes she'd stamp her foot lightly in delight after tasting something good. Other times she'd frown at a strange flavor—only to be immediately distracted by the next snack.
She even stopped at a small trinket stall, picking up a cute feather hairpin. She held it against her golden hair and checked her reflection in a blurry bronze mirror provided by the vendor. Apparently pleased, she paid without hesitation and clipped it into her hair.
That carefree, curious, almost childlike demeanor clashed violently with the image of the "demon god" who had casually created and erased devastation just moments ago.
Hidden in the shadows, Albedo observed everything through magic, her perfect face filled with confusion.
(What… is she?)
(She has power that even Lord Ainz fears, yet she's acting like an ordinary human girl, indulging in food and trinkets? What is her goal? A disguise? But why go this far? Or… is this her true nature?)
Albedo's mind worked like a precision instrument, analyzing every detail. Every satisfied smile, every curious pause—she broke it all down, searching for logic beneath it.
But the answer remained the same.
Unknown.
This wasn't deception. It was something deeper… a kind of indifference born from absolute superiority.
Humans don't bother hiding their emotions from ants.
(I must be careful. Lord Ainz's orders are absolute, but as Overseer, I cannot entrust Nazarick's safety to the whims of something so unknown. Observation must continue—but without exposure. Any risk must be eliminated before it grows.)
Just as her focus reached its peak—
A faint spatial ripple appeared behind her. Subtle, almost imperceptible, yet carrying a familiar, sweet metallic scent.
(!? Who—someone can pierce my concealment? That presence… it's—)
Her body tensed instantly, every muscle ready for combat. But faster than her body was her mind.
Someone who could approach her like this… either had absolute confidence or special authority. And within Nazarick, there were very few who fit that description.
Before she could fully turn—
A cool, supple hand pressed gently against her back, trailing slowly down her spine with a teasing touch. Another arm wrapped around her waist from behind, pulling her slightly backward into a tall, soft, yet dangerously chaotic presence.
"!"
Albedo suppressed the attack spell that nearly burst out of her, then whipped her head around.
A delicate face came into view, wearing a smile that mixed amusement and cruelty. An eyepatch covered her eyes, beneath which faint purple light seeped through.
Rubedo.
A special existence personally created by one of the Supreme Beings. The strongest individual combatant in Nazarick. Not bound to any floor, though nominally under Albedo's command. Most of the time, she was sealed away on the Eighth Floor.
Now, she stood here in a daring black modified nun's outfit, its high slits revealing long, stunning legs wrapped in dark stockings. Her black hair fell like a waterfall, and her entire presence radiated an eerie blend of innocence and lethality.
"Rubedo." Albedo's voice dropped low, sharp as a blade. Her anger wasn't fear—it was frustration at her disrupted plan and the sense that things were slipping out of control. "You broke your seal without authorization? Who gave you permission?"
Rubedo rested her chin lightly on Albedo's shoulder, letting out a low, pleased laugh that carried a metallic edge.
"Seal?" she said lazily, her voice husky and magnetic, tinged with a childlike cruelty. "If I want it gone… it's gone."
Her "gaze" passed through Albedo, locking precisely onto Illya in the distance, who was just picking up a skewer of candied berries.
"I smelled something… very, very interesting. Such a wonderful 'new toy'… how could I not come?"
(That lunatic… the most unstable variable shows up now of all times!)
Rage surged in Albedo's chest, but her face had already returned to icy composure.
(She must not be allowed to act recklessly. Provoking Illya would have unimaginable consequences. But force won't work well on Rubedo… it might even backfire. I need to guide her—control her in a way she understands… or suppress her.)
The situation had just become far more dangerous.
"..."
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