Chapter 12

Michael shot through the sky, fleeing at full speed toward the Slane Theocracy. The capital loomed ahead, and with the last of his remaining MP, he cast a teleportation spell—vanishing in a flash of light.

He reappeared inside the cit, within a room, and immediately collapsed, landing hard at the feet of a young woman. His body was too drained to move, too battered to stand.

"Michael!" she cried out in panic, rushing to him.

She was stunning—a woman with striking heterochromia, both in her eyes and hair. One eye shimmered silver, the other black. Her hair mirrored the same contrast—silver on one side, black on the other.

Though she appeared no older than a teenage girl, her youthful beauty was deceptive. In truth, she was over sixty years old.

"Mommy…" Michael whispered, his voice trembling as he looked up at his mother, Antilene. Tears welled in his eyes, but he quickly wiped them away, steeling himself as he began recounting everything.

He told her everything—the overwhelming power of the beings he had encountered, their sheer presence, and most importantly, their connection to his father.

As the words sank in, Antilene's expression shifted. Her gaze turned sharp, chilled, and unfeeling.

The moment she heard that these new threats were tied to that man, the one who had vanished from her life so long ago, her blood ran cold. The name Rex Tempus stirred old wounds… and now, new fury.

"Go rest," Antilene said softly, brushing a hand over Michael's hair. "I will see to it that they are erased."

With new players appearing in this world, things were bound to become chaotic. And if they were even remotely connected to Rex, then action had to be taken swiftly. She would move to unite the world against this looming threat.

"I want to change my last name…" Michael muttered, his voice low. "I don't want to carry the name of that bastard."

Antilene paused, her expression softening. Then she smiled and gave him a gentle nod. She helped him up, took the World-Class Item from him for safekeeping, and sent him away to recover.

Then, without wasting another second, she turned and left—already forming a plan in her mind.

What she didn't know… was that high above the empire, a single floating eyeball watched from the sky, its unblinking gaze recording everything. And far away, deep within Nazarick, Ainz Ooal Gown sat on his throne, watching it all unfold.

Yes, Ainz had allowed Michael to escape. He hadn't meant for it to happen at first, but do you really think Ainz Ooal Gown would be so careless?

When Michael skillfully vanished, Ainz had more than enough means to track him instantly… but he chose not to. Letting Michael return home was a calculated move—a strategy to expose the true enemy hiding behind him.

"We should launch an attack as soon as possible," Demiurge said, his sharp eyes fixed on the glowing screen. His voice was unusually tense. "Michael must be under the influence of that World-Class Item. We should bring him here."

"…Players have entered this world before us. Rushing in blindly would be foolish," Ainz said softly, his voice calm but firm. "There are too many unknowns. Our immediate focus should be to secure that World-Class Item—and locate Rex."

His gaze lingered on the screen for a moment longer before he turned away. 

"Pandora's Actor will take the lead in recovering the World-Class Items. Have Sebas begin a quiet investigation into Rex's whereabouts."

Then, reaching into his inventory, Ainz produced a simple, gleaming ring—one of the five World-Class Items given to him by Rex's golem.

"Deliver this to Sebas," he said, holding it out. "I won't allow another incident like what happened with Shalltear. This… is the Ring of Peace."

Wearing this ring, no one would be able to willfully wish the wearer harm. The effect was subtle yet absolute—those who saw the bearer would instinctively feel no desire to attack, as if all aggression were gently washed away.

In the game, this item had a powerful function: it would nullify combat, rendering both allies and enemies unable to fight in the presence of the wearer. This aura of enforced peace could only be broken under one condition—if the wearer initiated or committed an act that others could perceive as hostile or unpeaceful.

In short, it was a defensive failsafe, perfect for ensuring Sebas's protection while gathering intel in an increasingly dangerous world.

Pandora's Actor would, of course, receive his own World-Class Item, ensuring his effectiveness in the mission ahead. With roles assigned, everyone moved swiftly into action.

As for Ainz, he returned to his public persona—Momon, the Raven Black Hero—blending once more into the world.

Hours later, beneath the veil of night, a shadow moved swiftly through the trees. A ninja—silent and quick—leapt from one branch to the next, his figure barely visible in the moonlight. Behind him, an entire unit of ninjas followed in flawless coordination.

Their speed was extraordinary, effortlessly bypassing traps, detection wards, and layered alarms set around the Slane Theocracy.

They were a ghostly wind through the night—unseen, unheard, and moving with one purpose: infiltration.

At the front of the group moved Pandora's Actor, currently disguised as Nishikienrai, one of the founding members of Ainz Ooal Gown and the undisputed master of stealth within the guild.

With practiced movement, he formed a rapid series of hand signs, signaling the other ninjas to split up and execute their roles. Silent acknowledgments followed as the group dissolved into the night, fanning out like shadows on the wind.

Thanks to his unique abilities, Pandora's Actor could transform into any member of the guild—even Rex himself. When transformed, he gained 80% of their stats, along with access to all of their spells and abilities—a terrifying level of mimicry. The only limitation: he couldn't use Super Tier spells.

But even that weakness was deceptive. Because Pandora's Actor had the means to bypass that limitation.

Pandora's Actor slipped into the castle with unmatched stealth level capability, weaving through shadows and blind spots until he reached his destination—an ornate meeting chamber deep within the heart of the fortress.

Inside stood Antilene, poised across from a gathering of Cardinals, locked in the middle of a tense discussion.

Once, Antilene had shown no interest in politics. She had remained detached, uninvolved in the Theocracy's inner workings. But that had changed. It all changed the moment a certain bastard filled her heart with false hope, only to vanish and leave her broken. Now, she stood at the center of the political web, commanding attention and fear in equal measure.

The World-Class Item wasn't currently in her possession—it had been sealed within a secure storage box, awaiting transfer to the treasury. But there was a problem: they had yet to find someone compatible enough to wield it.

"What are we going to do?" one of the Cardinals muttered, frustration etched across his face. "Rex is someone not even the Dragons dare to offend, let alone us."

The tension in the room spiked, but another Cardinal calmly raised his voice, the one assigned to monitor Rex's movements. "From the information I've gathered… Rex should be dead," he said, drawing a wave of stunned silence.

"Roughly 25 years ago, a massive tornado appeared in the Dolar Desert. Those who were there to witness the phenomenon reported seeing a white-haired man standing at the center—right in the eye of the storm as it formed." He paused for effect, then added, "This information only reached me a few months ago. I'm still investigating, but the signs are… troubling."

In the shadows, Pandora's Actor froze mid-step as he approached the box holding the World-Class Item. The mention of Rex had caught him off guard. He hadn't expected to hear such a lead.

The Dolar Desert was infamous for its bizarre, unrelenting tornadoes, an anomaly that baffled even the most skilled mages. Over the years, countless expeditions had been launched to explore it. Each time, the area seemed completely ordinary—just a vast stretch of sun-scorched sand with nothing remarkable in sight.

But then the storms would come. Because their occurrences could be predicted down to the day, adventurers and researchers had tried waiting in the storm's projected eye, hoping to uncover whatever secrets lay within. None of them ever returned.

Others had tried approaching from the sky, hoping to bypass the storm's fury. They vanished too. And now… to hear that a white-haired man was seen standing within the storm's eye? He was, of course, shocked.

The tornado in the Dolar Desert appeared once every thirty years.. When it last came, Rex had gone there, waiting calmly in the eye of the storm. And like everyone before him, he had vanished.

"…So, he's gone," Antilene whispered, her voice barely audible. She stared down at her open palm, her fingers curling slowly into a trembling fist.

The thought that she hadn't been the one to kill that bastard cut deeper than she expected. Years ago, she'd been sent to eliminate Rex, armed with the best her people could offer. But in the end, Rex defeated her with terrifying ease, without even trying.

But Rex didn't kill her. Instead, he offered her the world. He spoke earnestly, promising a life away from the Slane Theocracy, offering her a future as simple as it was free. He told her they could live as farmers or wander the world as travelers. He didn't care, so long as they were together. Because in that moment, he said… 'she meant everything to him.'... And she believed him.

They shared a night so vivid, so tender, that she could still recall every second whenever she closed her eyes. But she also remembered what came after. The next morning, Rex was gone. 

She searched far and wide, desperate for answers, only to uncover others—women like her, deceived by his honeyed words, left behind with nothing but shattered trust.

She had never hated anyone more in her life. To give someone her heart, her trust, her everything—only to be abandoned? It was a cruelty so sharp, she wouldn't wish it upon her worst enemies. And then… came the day she discovered she was pregnant.

At first, she didn't know what to do with the child growing inside her. Part of her wanted to erase any trace of him, to forget the betrayal. But another part—one she didn't speak of—hoped that maybe, just maybe, Rex would return once he learned he was a father.

But he never did. He never came back.

And so, slowly, painfully, she turned her heart away from that hope and focused on something more real—on becoming a mother.

She fell in love with her baby boy. With every laugh, every cry, every quiet moment, he became her world. She poured every drop of love she had into raising him, doing everything in her power to give him a brighter future than hers.

She even clawed her way up through the ranks of the Slane Theocracy, gaining power not for herself, but for him.

"We can't say for certain," one Cardinal said, glancing toward Antilene with a conflicted expression, "but it seems like it."

His gaze then shifted toward another Cardinal, an older woman who had remained silent. Her eyes shimmered with the same pain. 

She, too long past her prime, had once fallen for Rex's honeyed words. And now, as both women sat in silence, their eyes began to water. Not from grief over his death… But from the cruel truth that they would never get the chance to watch him die.

"We should—" Antilene began, but then stopped cold. Her eyes widened as she suddenly came back to her senses, scanning the room with growing alarm.

"…Where is the box?" she asked sharply. Everyone turned at once to the pedestal where the World-Class Item had been stored… It was gone.

The moment of stunned silence was shattered by a wave of panic. Voices rose, chairs scraped against the floor, and several Cardinals rushed toward the now-empty space, desperately searching for clues.

Within minutes, the entire nation was placed under lockdown. Elite guards and mages were dispatched, border surveillance was doubled—someone had just stolen a World-Class Item, and no one knew how.

Meanwhile, deep within Nazarick, Ainz sat on this throne, listening to the detailed report delivered by Pandora's Actor.

"Dolar Desert…" he muttered under his breath, narrowing his gaze. "That place should have killed Rex."

"I've looked into the tornado," Demiurge said respectfully, standing before the throne. "Its next emergence is projected to occur in five years."

Ainz nodded slowly, deep in thought. "Place watchers there. I want eyes on the Dolar Desert at all times. The moment anything unusual happens, I want to be notified immediately."

Demiurge bowed deeply in respect. Ainz remained unaware of the quiet shift in the atmosphere… or the strange glint in Albedo's eyes as she watched him in silence. Something unreadable flickered in her gaze—curiosity, tension… or something else entirely.

"Allow me to take on this task, my lord," Albedo said, bowing deeply with unwavering respect.

Ainz gave a simple nod, not needing to consider it further. "Very well. I'll entrust it to you."

With that matter settled, Ainz gave his next order—Shalltear was to be brought before him. Bound in enchanted chains, Shalltear Bloodfallen stood silently in front of her master. She still tried to fight back, for at the end of the day, she was no longer loyal to the guild.

Using the very same World-Class Item responsible for her enslavement, Ainz activated the countermeasure. A pulse of power surged through the chamber, and in an instant, the magic was shattered.

Shalltear's body went slack, her gaze unfocused as her mind reeled. For several seconds, she simply stared. Then, as awareness returned, her legs buckled beneath her. She collapsed, trembling as the crushing weight of what she had done came rushing back to her.

Tears gathered in Shalltear's eyes, the weight of guilt and horror settling deeper with each passing second. The realization of her betrayal, even if unwilling, struck harder than any punishment could.

She didn't react when the chains vanished, didn't even move. Her gaze remained locked on the ground, bracing for judgment, for fury, for the end.

"Shalltear." She flinched at the sound of Ainz's voice… and then froze as his arms wrapped around her.

Her eyes widened in shock. She never expected kindness, never imagined that her lord—the one she had failed—would meet her with anything but wrath.

Trembling, she looked up, her voice caught in her throat as she met the silent, unreadable gaze of the master she had unknowingly turned against.

"I'm sorry," Ainz said softly, his voice low and sincere. "Everything that happened… it was because of my carelessness. You bear no blame, Shalltear. None of it is your fault."

He meant every word. How could he have let her walk around unprotected, without the defense of a World-Class Item? If players had made their way into this world, then the existence of world-class threats was a given, and he had failed to prepare for that.

"M-My Lord…" Shalltear whispered, her voice breaking. She threw her arms around him and burst into tears, unable to hold back the tide of emotion. The sobs racked her body, and for a moment, she clung to him like a lost child.

Ainz stood frozen, taken off guard—but after a breath, he gently reached out and began to pat her back, awkwardly but earnestly, like a father trying his best to comfort his daughter.

Meanwhile, in a fractured dimension, a lone figure lingered—barely alive.

A white-haired man lay drenched in his own blood, Everything below his neck was gone—arms, legs, torso—all ripped away. Only his head remained, eyes burning with unwavering focus.

His gaze was locked on the massive form before him—a dragon the size of an island, its body towering like a living mountain. It was the Primordial Dragon Lord, and it was dead… well, not for long.

A gaping hole in the dragon's chest had once marked its end, but now, bit by bit, flesh and bone began to stitch themselves back together. The impossible was happening—the dragon that had fallen was slowly returning to life.

All around them lay a landscape torn apart by unimaginable destruction—the scars of a battle that had raged for over a dozen years. The ground was cracked and scorched, the air heavy with the residue of spells and power.

This had been a war between a player wielding the most overpowered job classes ever conceived, and a dragon so ancient and mighty that it could nullify even the broken spells those job classes granted.

And despite all of that…Neither had truly won.