193

Ainz didn't even know what was the worst part of his current situation. The fact that he had to face his copy from this world, that it was a necessary part of Medb's plan, or that it was supposed to be a part of his plan! Or the fact that he didn't even know who exactly he was looking for and where he was supposed to go!

Why couldn't Medb have been more specific in telling him of his plan? No, Ainz supposes that it would have been illogical for Medb to tell him his own plan… Maybe he should call Medb and have her tell all the other Servants about his 'wonderful plan'? Saying something like 'in order to keep all the Servants on the same page' should work…

But what if her plan, which was part of his plan, which doesn't exist, relied on the other Servants not knowing about the plan? She had said something about Scáthach's part and something she didn't see coming? Argh, why was this so complicated!

Even now, he essentially didn't know where he had to go! Should he hang around the Assassins' base?! Should he go to Camelot?! Or was he supposed to go back to his summoning ground in Egypt?!

Ainz was essentially just teleporting at random now, just looking around to see if he could see anything unusual around him. And if he didn't? Well, he was practically rolling a die and picking at random the random side he teleported to next! He was literally like a teleporting rabbit, jumping from place to place. At this point he's just doing something for the sake of just doing it, he has no idea where to go, hoping for a miracle.

After all, he didn't even know exactly what he was looking for, just scurrying around the desert like a hapless spirit.

"I even sent some undead around – but they found absolutely nothing… Maybe I should dump my body and use something like Blessing of Titania?" Ainz shook his head, while the prospect of using higher tiered magic is culpable, showing his hand this early is inadvisable.

"But, even if I do it, will it show me the way to my copy or not? Last time when I used that in the very first Singularity, it led me to Olga, but where will it lead me now?"

The desert had long ago changed from the usual rocky terrain where he had been a little earlier back to the black scorched desert, then to the comparatively ordinary steppe, where Ainz could even see the setting sun.

"I've been wandering this desert for hours… " Ainz let out a defeated sigh before suddenly righting himself up in alert.

"Wait, wait a second! One of the connections to the summoned undead has been severed?"

Ainz had summoned several types of undead with scouting abilities, so he wasn't immediately able to know exactly which was destroyed – and in one hit at that. The undead had been killed without having time to relay information about exactly who it was and how it was destroyed.

Of course, he hadn't summoned his strongest creatures, and the creatures he had summoned specialized primarily in searching rather than fighting, so losing one from an enemy wasn't unusual. But for it to happen so unexpectedly, without any whips of information about the assailant?

"Well, at least I found someone relatively high level – a Servant, I suppose, that should be a good enough find, right?" Ainz shrugged.

"Not sure if that's what I was supposed to find, but it's better than nothing. It doesn't seem that, judging by the slain undead, to be someone friendly to me – but I can at least try to capture the Servant and ask them about someone who looks like me… Good thing I can trace where the last summon died."

Moments later, another of Ainz summons died, and that wouldn't have been unusual, except for the fact that the slain undead were at an extremely decent distance away from the first killed undead.

"Teleportation!?" Ainz thought about the possibilities for a moment. "I've managed to determine that such an ability was a rare trick – but it is possible that some Servants can easily possess something like that. Or is it instead some kind of super long-range attack? Or are they just that fast? At the very least, the Servant must have excellent scouting ability to be able to notice the undead that were so spread apart."

A moment later, a third, one that is even farther away from Ainz, died, and he comes to a conclusion. "It doesn't look like we'll part in peace… Hmm, very well."

Ainz's reflexes worked faster than his mind and his teleportation instantly carried Ainz away, traversing a vast distance in the blink of an eye, one that deposited him high in the air.

"Flight." Another of his delayed spells worked a moment later, stabilizing Ainz's position, one that allowed him sight over most of his summons.

Simultaneously, two more creatures ceased to exist, but Ainz cared little, the action giving Ainz more information about his enemy. "So, it was a super long-range attack… Very fast as well, I can't seem to see where the projectiles are coming from."

A huge explosion, its radius at least a couple of kilometers, instantly scorched the steppe and destroyed everything in its path.

Ainz would not have died from such a blow – but it was indeed quite powerful, Ainz would say that it was equal in destructive potential of a spell of at least ninth tier. And considering that even Medea was not much versed in this level of magic, having only a few spells in that tier – it showed that the Servant who used this ability was quite powerful.

Perhaps not even by the standards of the Servants, but by the standards of Ainz himself. If every previous undead was destroyed by such an attack – it meant that the enemy could easily throw such magic around.

Moments later, Ainz was informed that the blast had hit one of Ainz's more powerful summoned creatures without killing him instantly, making Ainz's measurement of the potential enemy's strength to decrease slightly, but it still remained quite high. "Hmm, so not every attack is essentially a 'Nuclear Blast' in power. Even so, with its great range, this attack alone makes this enemy potentially dangerous."

Ainz shifted his gaze around, trying to see if a second similar attack from his opponent was approaching him. But either he needed time to reload his attacks, or he decided not to attack Ainz anymore. And while Ainz hoped for the latter – he was aware that it was probably the former.

"Hmm, if the enemy has such tremendous range – then he could potentially be anywhere, depending on whether he needs to see the location of the attack. If not, or if he's using some sort of attack area spell – I'm in a bad position. But I'm sure I saw a projectile or beam streaking across the sky if not where it had come from, so at least I have time to react. So the enemy most likely needs to see the attack site – in that case, and at this range, the enemy must be on some high mountain but there's nothing but sand dunes for kilometers… Or perhaps."

Ainz looked up, looking at what seemed to be a small dot high in the sky, and exhaled. "Or in the sky."

Moments later, Ainz used teleportation, and felt resistance.

"Hmm, protection against teleportation? Unusual, but also expected… " Ainz frowned, preparing to use some extra magic to break through the defense – before suddenly feeling the restriction suddenly parting before him.

"Huh, the protection worked first and then retreated? Considering that I didn't use any magic or any consumables or equipment of any sort, there's only one other possibility."

Ainz instantly felt the surrounding environment change – the sky and the steppe beneath his feet turned to a stone floor, with huge stone pillars to the side leading to an obscenely decorated throne. A throne, maybe only a stone's throw, less imposing than the Throne of Kings in Nazarick.

But that was just a silly comparison, considering that the Throne of Kings was designed in the game specifically to be huge and unrealistically imposing, whereas this was a real throne.

A pompous, enormous, as if set on a podium with a high staircase leading up to it, throne. It converges into strange figures, as if the throne were a strange upside-down candelabra, only placed on the floor and aiming at the ceiling.

On which sat a girl.

Dressed in a chic, descending into the ground like a waterfall, pompous black gown, over which a black robe that descended pass the stone steps. And above the waist, she was clad in risqué armor, made more to emphasize her prominent forms than for any protection.

A longer inspection, during which the girl, seemingly in shock, did nothing, allowed Ainz to correct his earlier observation. It was not a black robe, but an unrealistically long hair that shaded her sharp facial features, framed by a collar made of some kind of black feathers, and… pointed long ears?

"An elf?" Ainz noted, surprised. "The first elf-Servant I have ever met. Huh, how rare…"

A moment later, though, the girl was seemingly able to deal with her shock. And in an instant, Ainz saw several chains striking out of nowhere as if they had appeared out of the air of the throne room heading for him. Ainz, of course, was protected from piercing damage, but he wasn't going to just take the blow and was about to teleport away, but a moment later he could feel something trying to make its way into his mind…

"Oh, are they trying to poison me?" Ainz almost smiled at the foolish attempt. Piercing damage and poison against the undead was the easiest mistake one could make.

The girl, apparently realizing that her abilities didn't work on Ainz, instantly changed her approach. Without leaving her throne, she raised her hand, and then a portal opened beside her…

"Dimensional Lock," Which Ainz immediately closed back, not about to find out what exactly the girl was trying to summon or teleport.

After another moment, spells crashed into Ainz – but they were much weaker than the attack the enemy had used on him just before, or even on his summoned creatures. Yes, there were a multitude of them of all kinds of attributes, but each of them was no higher than tier five or six. So, crashing into Ainz, each of them dissipated powerlessly, leaving Ainz completely uninjured in front of the girl.

She raised her hand momentarily and paused, as if contemplating whether she should continue the battle, before slowly lowering it as if to acknowledge defeat.

"I had imagined this day coming for so long, but I did not expect it to happen today." The girl's voice was deep enough to sound lovely, but it held an arrogance that even the almost instant defeat at the hands of Ainz couldn't seem to break. It was as if the owner of the voice didn't even pay attention to such a small thing as her own defeat. Or perhaps it was because she wasn't expecting a victory in the first place, and that was why she was giving up.

"And yet, I could never imagine that it would end like this… Ha-ha, okay, old man – you can have my head. I'll let you have it as the winner."

"Why are you talking as if I was hunting you? In the first place, you attacked me first, and what part of me looked old? I'd rather you not call me old man, and I wouldn't want to kill the first elf I meet on my way anyway." Ainz nodded, it would be such a waste if he could add her to his collection.

As a Servant that is, not as a lover! He already has too many of the latter!

"But trust me, if you try to attack me again, I will. Speaking of which, could you please remove your ability – the poison can't hurt me, but it seems to be dissolving my human body." Taking a look, it seems that his skin was going red and in some part was already necrotizing, as if he had just taken a bath in a vat of acid.

"Elf?" After a moment the girl raised one eyebrow, but at the same time her ability stopped working on Ainz, who had taken out a healing potion to heal his human body, before frowning. She then seems to be taking another look at Ainz body, which she had previously mistaken for someone else because of the aura of Death he was exuding. "Wait… You're not the Old Man from the Mountain?!"

"No, but I'd like to meet him," Ainz inwardly added 'if that's who I think it is, but considering I was just mixed up with him, it's highly likely.'

"Hah, so there's another one of your kind walking around." The girl, seeing that she was not about to be attacked, leaned back on her throne, before grinning so sweetly Ainz almost had a toothache.

"Indeed, the arrogance of the strong! You don't even know who I am, even when you're invading my home. However, know that before you is the queen of these lands!"

The girl rose in a single motion from her throne, letting her hair flow like a stream down the steps, striking a grand pose of confident, arrogant, and powerful ruler… Which didn't particularly work on Ainz, considering that he had quite simply defeated her just a few seconds ago. But if it weren't for that fact, her posture and aura of confidence and arrogance would probably have made Ainz wince.

"I, the Queen of Assyria, the lord of these lands, Semiramis!"

Ainz only just nodded at the introduction, acting as if it was just as he expected. Inside, however, it was another matter entirely.

'Great, another name I've never heard… Or have I? Something about gardens?'

Ainz glanced around him, but nothing around looked like gardens, so it probably wasn't the Semiramis that Ainz remembered.

"Okay," Ainz replied simply, before dismissing that thought as not of interest to him and clinging to the most important one at the moment. Spending some minutes inside the Throne room, Ainz could feel an unmistakable aura surrounding him.

"On to another matter entirely, however… Why does your flying fortress feel like a World-Class Item to me?"

Nitocris found herself moving through the desert once again as she swayed gently on the back of the sphinx, following after the figure of Sita who was moving ahead. She was also perched on the back of a sphinx provided by Ozymandias, unlike the other girl whose name she never managed to learn.

Instead of riding a sphinx, she was lounging on top of a palanquin, which were carried by four indistinct male figures. And yet, despite the speed the sphinx were running, the palanquin had kept up, and somehow despite being carried by men, they did not rock the throne as they ran.

Seeing such a sight, Nitcoris began pondering.

First and foremost, she pondered the fact that Ozymandias had sent her away.

'Ahhhh, I'm embarrassed, totally embarrassed!' if Nitocris could, she would have cried by now. But trying to preserve the crumbs of her dignity as an inexperienced, but still a pharaoh, she tried to pretend that she was watching her way carefully, looking ahead into the desert.

'First decent order from Ozymandias – and I am completely disgraced… I can't even call myself a pharaoh now!'

And yet it was originally so simple - Nitocris just had to demonstrate her usefulness… But why is it so hard?

Ozymandias was a role model for Nitocris – a figure that, even by her times, was already an old legend. He was a figure that people of a more modern world would compare to the hero of the children's cartoons they grew up with. Nitocris could grow up, mature, understand the world – and yet such a figure was someone Nitocris could never encounter in reality – a legend among legends.

Nitocris grew up hearing the legends of the great pharaohs of antiquity. Her most important and most beloved legend was, of course, Ozymandias. And yet when compared to such a grand figure, her time as Pharaoh, was woefully inadequate.

A simple, sad story, fitting into about one epitaph on a tombstone – if they would erect a tombstone for her, of course. A sad epitaph ending with the unimpressive 'and then she went to the Throne of Heroes… somehow.' with no sequel.

The only other chance for her to make her mark in the world, as small as it might be, was a Holy Grail War. So, in effect, she has no chance at all.

The likelihood of a Servant to be summoned in the Holy Grail War was very minimal. To add to the rarity of the event itself, the War, barring some exceptional events, would only summon Seven Servants per war. A war fought maybe every few hundred years – and the number of Heroic Spirits capable of spawning Servants was in the tens of thousands, and that was only what Nitocris herself knew of.

In other words, the odds for Nitocris to be summoned were about the same as her chance of not dying of embarrassment to Ozymandias right now.

Not exactly zero, but not much greater than that.

But the miracle had happened – not just anywhere at that, but in Egypt, the place of her power, the place of her legend and she had even been summoned along with the Pharaoh of Pharaohs, Ozymandias!

Nitocris could not even believe her luck at first, the probability of such a thing happening was unspeakably small. And, as small as it was, it was a dream come true for Nitocris.

Nitocris, who had grown up on the legends of Ozymandias, had been summoned as Ozymandias' assistant, and so as expected, she had jumped at the chance to help Ozymandias with all her might. Even when he said that he did not, in fact, need an assistant – much less someone as inexperienced but willing as Nitocris.

But Nitocris didn't care – she was willing to shine shoes, haul records, anything for the chance to stand beside Ozymandias. The chance to watch how a real Pharaoh behaves, and help the hero of her childhood fantasies in his sacred task of ruling his people… It was breathtaking.

And Nitocris was entrusted with roughly this function, but she was not one to complain. No, she was not waving a fan, or cleaning Ozymandias' shoes - according to him, that was an occupation unworthy of any pharaoh, whether he was a wizened old man or someone as young and inexperienced as Nitocris.

But her level of tasks was not very different from those, if not in appearance, then in content and complexity.

After an… unfortunate incident with Ozymandias, Nitocris effectively became the herald of his will, she announced the decrees of Ozymandias to the people, visited his cities, and escorted guests.

But that was where her usefulness ended.

Nitocris did not overestimate herself or her abilities, she was not experienced in statesmanship or strong as a Servant, but she was ready to prove herself, to show her best and help Ozymandias in any way she could. The problem?

Ozymandias just didn't need the help.

Ozymandias, without leaving the confines of his palace, could rule even in such apocalyptic conditions with a firm hand. Rewarding those who proved themselves, punishing miscreants, managing the people, ruling the masses, and conducting politics and diplomacy all without stepping down from his throne.

Nitocris simply had nothing to offer Ozymandias!

Nitocris was not even sure that she was needed to announce his edicts or similar matters! Apparently, Ozymandias could have perfectly well entrusted it to his other servants and subordinates, but chose not to do so – and, of course, there was a reason, many even…

But Nitocris was well aware that the most important and main reason was that Nitocris had asked to help Ozymandias – and he had agreed to fulfill the wish of an inexperienced fan.

And though such an attitude from Nitocris' childhood hero pleased her, she wanted more! Not in the sense of an even more special treatment by the Pharaoh, but more opportunities to prove herself and help Ozymandias!

And, at last, that opportunity had arrived! In the great kingdom of the Pharaoh the Pharaohs, there appeared a powerful adversary, someone whose appearance was not a visit from the factions of this world. Someone who did not obey Ozymandias' orders and laws, and who, in his appearance, had turned the cities of Ozymandias upside down.

Ozymandias, of course, could not abide by such actions – but at the same time he could not leave the confines of his palace. Because of which, for the first time in all this time, Nitocris was given a mission – an important assignment which she had to fulfill, for the first time there was an opportunity for Nitocris to prove herself…

And she had disgraced herself! Twice even!

First, instead of proving herself as Pharaoh, guardian of these lands and loyal subordinate to Ozymandias, she simply… Lost! In an instant she lost everything and at once, surrendered to an unknown force, not even holding out for a second of resistance!

It was a shame to lose, but to lose in the first real battle in less than a second? It wasn't just embarrassing, it was a disaster!

And, as if that weren't enough, Nitocris had then led a potential adversary straight to Ozymandias!

And then she also lost on the battlefield of the mind, losing not twice, but three times!

She was disgraced three times!

Of course Ozymandias, seeing her disgrace, had decided to get rid of her at the first opportunity, sending such a useless under-pharaoh away. Nitocris had asked to be assigned any task to her for so long, and when she was given it, she failed miserably in just every way she could, and even in those where she could not!

Nitocris only hoped that Sita and the other woman who had taken her along would just kill her for her stupidity and spare her the shame, and not remind her of how she had failed repeatedly before.

"For our guide, you seem to lose sight of your surroundings surprisingly often and for long periods of time," The voice of the woman – or perhaps the girl? In the palanquin interrupted Nitocris' musings.

"Yeah," Nitocris couldn't even find the strength to respond to the girl's words, "We go straight… because it's the desert, you can go straight to any object here, and you would reach it eventually… If you're a Servant, that is."

"Yes, I've gotten the gist of that – but, I've been warned that there will be at least a few sandstorms and a couple of wild sphinxes on the way?" She glanced up at Nitocris, glaring at her from the top of her throne.

"Wouldn't you have to warn us if they were coming, and how to get around them?

"Wouldn't that make no sense?" Nitocris answered almost lifelessly. "Sandstorms and sphinxes won't be a problem for Servants… especially the strong ones."

"Yes, I agree with you on that point." The girl agreed easily, "But isn't the point of a guide, not just to get to the destination, but to get there in the most convenient and yet shortest way possible? I, like Sita, for one, do not like to just fight and throw our forces left and right… Or did you not realize that your actions as a guide would affect the perception of Ozymandias as the one who recommended you for the position?"

Hearing these words, Nitocris momentarily froze…

After which she raised her hands to her face and covered it in consternation, her mind taking a heavy blow. 'I suck even in failing! What is wrong with me! Is this my punishment for dying without the Pharaoh's funeral ceremonies?! Payback for meeting Ozymandias in person?! Why am I doing so badly…'

"This way," Nitocris finally managed to pull her hands away from her face and point to the side, determined not to sully her hero's name any further. "We're almost into sphinx territory – so we need to turn east now…"

Although, she's afraid that she would fail even at that.

Mashu shifted her gaze to Arthuria, then to the silent fortress that is Camelot in the distance, whose silhouette glitter especially brightly in the night. Actually, what time of day was it in this Singularity now?

Standing in a black desert with no visible light or even a clear sky, Mashu wasn't sure of the current time. Especially since the only temporal reference point was Administrator bothering them less and less.

'This version of Arthur, I don't really like' Mashu was almost pleased with Galahad's voice, glad for the distraction, as trying to start a dialogue with Arthuria was like trying to start a dialogue with a statue.

'Not that my Arthur was much of a talker – unless about food or chivalrous ideals, but this one… Ha, this one seems like it will just stand still even when it gets covered with sand over its head – or maybe even after that.'

Mashu couldn't really disagree with Galahad's comment as she watched Arthuria stand motionless in place, seemingly not even blinking, as she stared at the city in the distance.

While Mashu, at least occasionally, changed her posture – stretching her stiffened arms, strolling slightly around the perimeter of the small village, or listening to Administrator's complaints

Arthuria seemed like she was embedded in her current location and had no plans to change it for the next few centuries at least.

Mashu tried to ask Arthuria a few questions at first, seeing that she saw no other source of entertainment in front of her. But all she managed to get in response were one-word answers – short, dry, and cold, as if Mashu's question was just the passing of the wind.

'Look, I can't believe I'm advising this, but…' Galahad sighed in Mashu's head. 'But even a boring kind of talk is better than none… Try asking her about the ideals of chivalry. Arthur could talk for hours on this subject, saying nothing new, but repeating the same thing a hundred times. If this Arthur is even a little like her, it's bound to provoke at least some response from her…'

Mashu thought about Galahad's idea for a second. It's not that she was opposed to the idea of having a philosophical talk, she's just not that interested in it either.

But, it was probably better than just standing here silently, staring at Camelot or the bare desert, or trying to wait for the moment when Administrator would stop being busy and return to answer Mashu and Arthuria's questions about Camelot.

However, as soon as she opened her mouth to make the first sounds, Arthuria spoke first, "Someone is here."

Instantly, Mashu raised her shield – her role was to take the first blow from the enemy, whoever it was, so she should have been ready in the first place.

Looking at her preparations, however, Arthuria shook her head before turning her gaze toward the approaching figure.

'Oh…' Galahad suddenly opined unenthusiastically in her head, when Mashu got a glimpse of the approaching figure. 'Him…'

The approaching person looked extremely androgynous, so the very fact that he was a man was more a guess on Mashu's part than a fact. He was short, with a feminine silhouette with their hair gathered in a bun, reminiscent of…

Mashu blinked at the realization and shifted her gaze to Arthuria, standing nearby, noticing how her hair was fashioned in the same way.

Carrying on his shoulders a cloak that was once white, but clearly had time to suffer during his travels, hiding the right half of the body of a young man covered by armor. An armor that looks like steel, but at the same time, it is unblemished, as if the wearer had never had to participate in a battle.

In fact, it looked more like an armor one wears for ceremonial purposes…

After making his way towards Arthuria and Mashu, standing a dozen meters before them, the man stopped, after which he momentarily looked into Arthuria's eyes – receiving in return the gaze of Arthuria's cold eyes.

For a moment, the air was filled with emotion. Recognition, understanding, even… Warmth.

"Greetings," Even Arthuria's voice, always cold and distant before, was filled with something that Mashu could call welcoming.

"Sir Bedivere."