Chapter 140: The Attack
The royal capital passed the day like any other.
Sunlight crept up over the eastern horizon — a faint wash of gold at first, then spreading gradually until the whole city was wrapped in warm haze. The streets filled with people. Shopkeepers pulled open their doors. The smell of baking bread drifted from the bakeries; the first ring of a hammer carried from the smithy.
Several children chased each other across the cobblestones, their laughter bright enough to startle the birds from the eaves.
Since Eight Fingers' fall, the capital's streets had grown considerably safer.
The drugs that had once changed hands in the back alleys, the slave trade buried deep in certain establishments — all of it had dissolved along with the organization that ran it. The various factions, each with their own reasons, had kept up the pressure on Eight Fingers' remnants without pause.
The capital had taken on something that almost looked like a genuine prosperity.
People walked the streets with expressions that were, for once, relaxed.
The false peace didn't last.
Night came. The last of the daylight sank below the horizon, and the whole city was swallowed by darkness. The streets emptied. Shops shut their doors one by one. Only the occasional lamp leaked light through a crack in a shutter, dropping thin patches of brightness onto the road below.
Then —
A scream tore through the night.
It came from an alley on the capital's eastern side. Sharp and brief, cut off as though something had closed around it.
More screams followed, radiating outward from Eight Fingers' last surviving safehouse, rising and overlapping in waves — an invisible net pulling itself tight around the whole city.
Inside the safehouse, Demiurge stood in the center of the hall.
The blood from the Eight Fingers members' bodies at his feet had spread into an intricate pattern across the floor.
It looked like a ritual from some sinister cult.
That calculating face wore, of all things, an expression of reluctance.
He drew out a golden statuette, small enough to fit in his palm. Twisted demonic engravings covered its surface. Six gemstones set into it gave off a steady glow.
[Armageddon Evil]
Demiurge said the item's name quietly. His long fingers moved across its surface in a slow, careful stroke — the way you might say goodbye to an old friend.
This had been a gift from his creator, Ulbert. That Supreme Being had left this precious item behind for him before departing.
A grace from Ulbert-sama. He had never been able to bring himself to use it.
But now, for Nazarick and for Ainz-sama's plan, he had no choice.
Demiurge drew a breath and activated the statuette.
Dark red light poured from it, spreading outward in all directions like a tide. Where the light passed, the air began to warp. A crack opened in empty space, like a wound being torn apart.
Demons began to pour through.
Their skin was a dull, weathered grey, like eroded stone. Their bare skulls were lit from within by eyes burning with crimson light, vivid even in darkness. Behind them, membrane wings spread and caught the air.
One hundred and twenty-eight lesser demons filed out through the rift, their grey bodies filling the hall. Then they broke through the doors and windows and flooded into the streets.
Demiurge stood where he was. He looked down at the statuette one final time, then set it at the exact center of the pattern on the floor.
He cast [Greater Teleportation] and left.
Blue light flared around him and swallowed him whole.
The capital plunged into chaos.
Demons tore through every street. Grey shapes moved through the darkness, the beat of membrane wings mixing with screaming and the crash of collapsing structures. The entire city had become something close to hell.
They fell on every human in sight, those crimson eyes holding nothing but the desire to kill. Claws raked through clothing, teeth closed on flesh, and the blood turned the stone streets red.
But the capital was not without defenses.
Blue Roses assembled quickly.
Lakyus stood at the inn's entrance. Her golden hair moved in the night wind. Her face held no trace of fear.
She took a rapid sweep of the situation around her.
Every demon's level was low — but their numbers were enormous. They had to be cleared fast, before the damage to the capital's people grew any worse.
Blue Roses would split up.
"Tina, Tia — you take the west. Gagaran, north. Evileye, south."
She paused. Her gaze settled on the east — the direction where the fires burned brightest.
"The east is mine."
"Got it, Ghost Boss." Tina and Tia answered almost at the same moment. Two silhouettes dissolved into the night.
Gagaran cracked a savage grin, rolling her wrists until her knuckles popped. "Finally something to do."
Evileye gave a slight nod. A cold gleam passed through the eyes behind her crimson-jeweled mask. She activated her flight magic and was gone.
Lakyus tightened her grip on her sword and moved toward the east.
Across the city, Kingdom Warrior Captain Gazef Stronoff came charging out of his house.
He had his armor on in moments, his longtime sword at his hip. He shoved the door open — and a wave of blood-smell hit him in the face.
He frowned. Didn't hesitate. Moved into the night in long strides.
But before he left, he looked back over his shoulder into the house.
Brain was sitting in a corner of the front room, his sword in hand, his expression somewhere complicated.
"Stay safe." Gazef said, and ran.
Not far ahead, a citizen had been backed into a wall by two demons, arms pulled over his head, body shaking. The demons were shrieking, both lunging at once.
Gazef's sword cut a clean arc through the moonlight.
Two demon heads left their bodies simultaneously. Blood surged from the wounds. The corpses tumbled through the air twice over and hit the ground heavily.
The citizen slid down the wall, lips trembling, unable to speak.
Gazef didn't stop. He turned and ran toward the next direction.
As he ran, he said a quiet prayer inside himself.
Let this end fast. Let the casualties be light.
Brain sat in the house, listening to the screaming and shrieking through the windows, the furrow between his brows deepening with each passing moment.
His fingers moved slowly over the grip of his sword.
He had been staying at Gazef's house these past days.
That man — the one they called the Kingdom's greatest warrior — had been pulling him along through nothing but the stubborn, persistent force of his own decency.
Brain thought of what he had looked like the day Gazef found him, curled in the rain at a street corner. He had already given up. After seeing what Shalltear was, he had concluded he was nothing — that every hour he had ever put into his sword had been a joke.
Gazef had pulled him out of that.
"Fine," Brain muttered, scrubbing at his hair with one hand, and shoved his sword through his belt. "Call it paying back the free meals."
He pushed the door open and walked into the night.
The blade flashed once. A demon that had been lunging at him was cut clean in two at the waist.
Brain shook the dark blood from his sword. The corner of his mouth turned up — a smile he hadn't worn in a long time.
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