Chapter Text
Even when you’re a far distance from the girls, you don’t brush Momonga’s arm off of you.
With your eyes turned down, you notice that the sleeves of your dress are still dirty and sticky blood clings between your fingers and under your nails. The smell of metal and the early dregs of rot, once enticing, now only serve to further churn your gut.
Why did we come here?
This place is useless. Humans are useless. They can’t even satisfy you by cowering before you or dying. Not even their gratitude is good enough.
It doesn’t settle the unease in your soul. Not even a little.
I want to go home.
Your eyes squeeze shut as the thought rushes to the forefront of your thoughts - Home. It’s not Nazarick that comes to mind; You imagine the comfort of your twin-sized bed in your broom-closet room. The small window that you could only jimmy a few inches open, letting in sounds from the streets below and the smell of smog.
The sky is so blue here.
You want to set fire to the trees to fill it with pollution. You want to ruin this perfect world, if only to comfort yourself a little.
You want to kill every human you see, though you loathe the idea of even laying eyes on one once more.
“I hate humans,” you say, validating the feeling in your heart to yourself. Then, again, more sure, “I hate them.”
I hate that I’m not like them anymore.
Even this clawing envy, the way your mind clashes with your desires is alien to you - your tears are not soft, you do not grieve the human emotions you once had. Your sentiment is angry and ruinous.
You are not human anymore.
It has never been more apparent.
And those stupid girls, holding one another as they trembled in fear - you don’t even want their agony - just a swift death. For the light to leave their eyes.
“They aren’t very charming, are they?” Momonga muses quietly, “I’ll admit I was a little offended by the way they looked at me.”
You can hear Albedo’s hand tighten on her weapon, metal against metal. You know she’s still itching to drive the axe into their fragile bodies. You want to tell her to do it.
… But Momonga wished to spare them.
“So why did you save them?” You ask - your voice sounds too weak. Too shaky. Too bitter. “Why?”
Momonga hums in that infuriating care-free way of his - like he’s choosing an item off a menu for lunch and not like the two of you had just killed people. Really, really killed people. Like you’re not monsters.
You want to shake him, accuse him of lying to you.
“Nostalgia, maybe?” He says, tapping at his chin with one long, skeletal finger. “I thought of Touch Me when I saw them. I felt like I was repaying a debt to a friend.”
A debt? That’s all they are to you?
Your stained hands clench into fists… then relax.
“... Okay.”
You look to the sky, not hating it as much as you had just a second ago.
I was overcomplicating things.
It’s not because Momonga is more ‘human’ than you. It’s not because you were never ‘human’ enough to begin with.
It was simply… a debt.
You have debts, too, after all - To Ulbert, for giving you this second chance at life, as much of an incompetent brother as he is. And… to Momonga, as well. For giving this second life meaning. For holding your hand, sending the NPCs to check on you and even letting you take your anger out on him.
Maybe the debt makes some of your edges soft, as well. Maybe it makes you seem more human when you look at Demiurge and think of Ulbert or when Albedo brushes your hair and you remember your mother.
Or maybe it just makes you, ‘you’.
With a lighter heart, you crane your neck up to look at Momonga.
…
“... What is that ugly thing on your face?”
Momonga makes a noise like he’s clearing his throat - something that is totally impractical and ridiculous, since he’s a skeleton. You can almost see a nervous smile on his face behind the red and green mess of a mask he’s donned.
Of course you recognize it - the jealousy mask.
You just don’t know why he’s wearing it.
“I thought it might help me blend in better with the humans… is it too strange?”
Too strange…?
Is it even worth telling him off at this point? Besides - he’s somewhat right. If he truly wants to make good on his debt to Touch Me, then he’ll want to avoid terrifying the human residents of the village.
“.... I guess it’s no more strange than a walking, talking skeleton,” you acquiescence. You’re not happy with the weird getup, but it’s not like you need a disguise…
…
Fuck.
Okay, so maybe a half-goat, half-child isn’t exactly a comforting sight to the average peasant, either. Though… at least you have skin. Still, your ears, horns, nose and hooves will have to be covered.
… Nothing that a handy cloak can’t help with.
In particular, you summon a Cloak of Shadows from your inventory - an item purposefully designed to hide stats from other players. Its passive ability should keep you from being identified as a fiend from anyone you come across… whether or not they’re a player.
You can’t help but notice that it doesn’t hide the smell of blood, unfortunately.
Hopefully human noses aren’t as keen as yours.
“Well, let’s make sure that Death Knight of yours doesn’t cause too much trouble…”
With Momonga’s sleeve still tightly gripped in your small hand, you yank him in the direction the stupid thing had run off in.
“The village is still far,” Momonga tells you, though he doesn’t fight your insistence. “... Would you like a lift?”
You turn and squint up at your guildmaster.
“Why do I have the feeling you’re messing with me?”
Momonga shakes his head then offers one of his large hands - now covered by gloves - to you.
“Trust me?”
Well, that isn’t suspicious at all…
…
… And that’s how you ended up with your hands firmly lodged in the hood of Momonga’s robe, sitting on his overly-ornate shoulder piece while he and Albedo fly towards the village.
It’s fine, you tell yourself, just don’t look down.
You’re a witch, right? Witches fly all the time. On broomsticks. Momonga is like a big broom stick.
I’m a witch, and Momonga is a broomstick.
As it happens, trying to remain dignified while riding on your guildmaster’s shoulder is actually something of a challenge. You feel less like a witch and more like a parrot on the shoulder of a pirate… like you’re waiting for someone to offer you a cracker.
Although…
Perhaps it’s not you who is the lesser in this situation - it’s Momonga himself who is stooping to serve you.
Yes…
Momonga is simply your servant in this situation.
You try to straighten your back somewhat as your party approaches the village, steeling your face into the picture of indifference despite the fact that you can feel how hot your cheeks are. You are powerful. You are rich.
They’re just humans. Lowly humans who likely can’t distinguish a healing potion from poison.
Momonga descends to the ground after calling off the Death Knight, but you remain perched up on his shoulder, claws still firmly buried in his hood.
It doesn’t seem to bother him at all. Maybe because you’re making it a bigger deal than it is… or because he’s got that stupid emotional suppression trait from being undead.
Dirty cheater.
“Nice to meet you all,” Momonga tells the mixed crowd of cowering villagers and soldiers, hands outstretched in greetings, “my name is Ainz Ooal Gown.”
You roll your eyes.
You are awful at hero roleplay, you want to tell him.
Momonga goes on a spiel to the soldiers about spreading his name back to their commanders, warning them off attacking the village again, yadda yadda, total destruction of their kingdom…
Your gaze naturally wanders around the village, from the peasants kneeling on the ground, to the soldiers with their swords raised and lastly to the corpses littering the ground. The Death Knight had hardly left any of those unsightly rabbits to play with…
Well… whatever.
Your appetite for human had been soured by those filthy girls, anyways.
Finally, Momonga sends the soldiers away with a final threat. The cowardly way they drop their swords and scurry away doesn’t even make you grin.
Leaning down close to Momonga, you press your mouth to the side of his head, covering the side of your mouth with your hand like you’re telling a secret. In a way, you guess it could be a secret.
“Looks like you passed,” you whisper.
Momonga returns your sentiment with a slight nod of his head.
Your touching moment is, however, ruined by one of the sniveling human villagers.
“W… who are you, sir?” He stutters out on all fours.
It’s sickeningly familiar to the girls from earlier - enough for you to want to just crush them all like bugs - and just as exhausting.
You peek over Momonga’s head to shoot Albedo an incredulous look.
“Are they dull, too? He just explained it.”
The way Albedo’s head shakes from side to side in disappointment is imperceptible to the human eye… but clearly visible to you.
Simply astounding.
One would think the humans of this realm don’t even have a brain in their meaty little heads.
Either due to patience or to the debt that Momonga mentioned earlier, he doesn’t anger or even appear annoyed. You want to slap the back of his skull and tell him to grow a backbone… but you refrain.
It wouldn’t do to lose face in front of the peons.
“I saw this village being attacked and came to save you,” Momonga explains placidly. The crowd oohs and aahs in shock, but still look on warily as he approaches “Now, you are all safe. I want you to be at ease.”
Once again, not suspicious at all…
You tug at Momonga’s hood, whispering to him again as you did before.
“You’re being too generous,” you scold.
Momonga’s gate stutters for a split second.
“... However, it wasn’t for free,” he says quickly, “I would like to be thanked for it!”
The villagers, those stupid humans, look at each other and smile. At ease. Just as Momonga had bid them to be. It’s almost amusing.
How simple.
…
You slap your own cheeks a little to scold yourself for being too kind, if only in your head. It’s not as if you like humans now - it’s just that they’re like animals in the way they trust the hand that feeds them.
And animals are allowed to be cute.
Perhaps, one day, if you could learn to control your hunger for their flesh with something other than existential dread… you might even consider keeping one as a pet.
You lean over one last time, speaking softly to Momonga, asking him to let you down. He complies swiftly, gently grabbing you around the waist and setting you gingerly on to the ground.
“Now then, what will our prize be?” You muse out loud, glancing at your two companions. “Money? Laborers?”
Momonga cheekily taps a finger to his head.
“Information,” he replies, “... and a little bit of money.”
You clap your hands together, pleased at the prospect.
“Shall I have Pandora’s Actor polish every coin? The humans have touched them, after all…”
Albedo lightly claps her hands together as well, imitating your excitement.
“Wonderful idea, my lady! Lord Ainz has brought great honor to this village through the personal slaughter of those unseemly pigs! They should be most pleased to be serving the supreme ones!”
Albedo’s warm praise is cut short when the village leader and his wife tentatively approach. Her shoulders square as she steps forward, putting herself ever so slightly between them and Momonga.
Though they look fearful, the man does his best to speak through his trembling.
“Please, we can speak more comfortably in my house…”
Albedo doesn’t move from her spot until Momonga sets a hand on her shoulder. She jumps slightly but obediently moves to follow the two of you towards the couple’s home. You think you hear her let out an embarrassingly loud sigh of yearning… which you promptly ignore.
Not touching that one with a six foot pole.
Nope.
Once seated, Momonga starts his long-winded explanation of your supposed identities.
Him, a magic-caster who has kept himself in seclusion for the past several decades in order to pursue his craft.
Albedo, his guard and trusted confidant.
And when the couple’s eyes land on you… you let him keep spinning his tall tale, if only for your own enjoyment at listening to him flounder.
“Ah, this is…”
“... Lenore,” you supply him shortly.
No need for monikers here.
“Lenore, yes,” Momonga coughs discreetly, “she’s the younger sister of a friend. She came into my care recently.”
The lady looks at you with shiny eyes.
“You truly are a kind lord,” she sniffles, “to care about others so deeply.”
Gross.
“How can we ever repay your kindness?” The man implores while putting his arm around his wife’s shoulders.
Momonga’s shoulder’s square up and you know he’s about to start another overly-detailed explanation, so you tune him out by looking out the window.
Humans.
What else could you expect?
The man talks on and on about the kingdom of Re-Estize, the nearby city of E-Rantel, the Baharuth Empire and even the Slane Theocracy. He seems all too eager and trusting of your little party. Of course, you’d all appeared in their moment of need…
… But what truly piques your interest is when Momonga procures a gold coin from Yggdrasil and the couple studies it in wonder. To your immeasurable disappointment, it appears worthless as currency… though valuable in material. Well… it’s not like the humans had anything good to barter, anyways.
Though Momonga appears much more hung up on the ‘Adventurers’ the man describes.
For good reason - you may be likely to encounter powerful warriors or magic casters at an adventurers guild. You’ll need to make preparations with Momonga to confront a guild for more information.
“Do you have any more questions for us?” The man asks.
At last, Momonga shakes his head.
“No. Thank you, this was valuable to us.”
The village chief nods his head and then gazes at the table sadly.
“Then, I would like to take this time to tend to our dead,” he says solemnly.
Momonga stands from the table with a curt nod.
“I will accompany you.”
Classic Momonga… always digging for side quests.
You sigh before pushing away from the table and joining him.
It’s just as tedious as you imagined, watching the humans work into the night to properly bury the bodies of the ones killed by the soldiers. You can’t help but think the labour is wasted on corpses when it could be put to good use elsewhere.
When the sky turns pink, and he’s successfully wiped the memories of the girls he’d saved, Momonga finally seems to have had his fill of watching the humans grieve as they toil.
It’s after you yawn that Momonga appears to snap out of his brooding. He glances down at you, then looks at Albedo.
“Our business is done here. Let’s withdrawal.”
Albedo nods, ever the obedient servant.
“Understood.”
At that moment, a human passes by, offering a paltry greeting.
Albedo’s tense posture doesn’t go unnoticed by either you or Momonga.
“Albedo, do you also hate humans?” Momonga asks, sounding somewhat curious.
“Weak creatures,” she spits, “lower life forms. I think of how beautiful it would be if I crushed them like bugs.”
Your head snaps towards her, eyes wide.
That’s…
Exactly how I feel, too, Albedo…
“I see… you as well… However, calmly treat them with kindness here. Acting is also important.”
Acting…
Acting…
It seems like that’s all you’ve been doing since you came to this strange world. Wouldn’t it be okay for you to be just a bit selfish? This is your second life, after all… why should you spend it hiding what you really are?
Unrest from the villagers disturbs your quiet conversation.
“... Another problem,” Momonga sighs.
Another side quest, you lament.
This time, you let Momonga approach the village chief alone while you hang back with Albedo. You’re already thoroughly exhausted - wouldn’t it be enough to lend the village the Death Knight?
It’s not too long after Momonga talks to the humans that you hear the sound of hooves hitting earth - horses. And lots of them. You can only assume that they’re carrying riders… riders with unknown intentions.
How tiring.
You wait with Momonga and Albedo as they approach.
… Among them, a man with an aura completely different to the ones you’d met so far.
A man who introduces himself as the Chief Royal Warrior of Re-Estize.
A man who calls himself ‘Gazef Stronoff’.
> Collectible Unlocked!
> Investigate
> It's a simple black-ink pen - the cap has tiny teeth marks imbedded into it.
> Dad always called it a bad habit