Ainz peered over the crude stone battlements as he observed the eerie scene below. The gnolls impaled on pikes at the base of the fort twitched feebly, their ragged fur matted with splattered blood, their final, agonized wails barely more than gurgling whimpers. The air was thick with the pungent stench of rotting flesh, a putrid cocktail of sweat, decay, and iron that even his undead form seemed to register on some instinctual level.
If he still had a stomach, he suspected it might have turned inside out.
Instead, he merely tilted his head, his deep voice cutting through the oppressive silence. "And this has produced the desired outcome?"
Beside him, Nefarian inclined his head. "Attacks on our fortifications have all but ceased. The dull creatures have redoubled their efforts in raiding human settlements, seeing them as easier prey." his tone was one of detached amusement, grinning.
Ainz let out an internal sigh. Typical. The moment Nazarick agreed to cease hostilities with the Alliance and pull its forces back to permanently held territories, control over the gnoll population had unraveled like a poorly sewn tapestry, shattering within literal hours. Now the Redridge Mountains teemed with the feral beasts, their warbands pillaging and burning unchecked against all neighboring parties, including them.
Ainz glanced back at the newly erected defenses. The fortifications were crude but effective, constructed by numerous natives. Thick stone walls, hastily reinforced with steel rods and great wooden beams, stood against the bloody red grounds. It was a testament to the sheer raw power of Nazarick's workforce; mighty orcs and hulking ogres had raised these fortresses in mere days, relying on brute strength and sheer numbers to get things done.
He stroked his bony chin thoughtfully, "I see. While effective, this method may not align with the image we wish to cultivate. Have we considered… other options? Perhaps the warlocks could raise the gnolls as undead and send them back into their camps as a scare tactic?" Mortals tended to react poorly to necromancy, he knew his past self would have. Something about the unnatural undeath made them squirm. But, compared to the crude barbarity of impaled corpses rotting at the entry points of the Nazarick Empire, it was practically heaven in comparison.
Nefarian exhaled sharply through his nose in a rare display of open frustration, "At best, the warlocks can puppeteer the corpses, but they have no sentience left, nor can their sheer numbers be fully handled. The orcish necromancy is a lot more limited compared to one wielded by you, master, or by the Scourge. I have spent years attempting to unlock the secrets of the Frozen Throne, yet the cultists who worship the Lich King remain infuriatingly tight-lipped. I can create bone golems, but that's about it, and many of my peers would fare no better."
For a moment, Ainz tapped his chin and leaned forward in thought. Then, within seconds, he released a wave of his Aura of Despair. The effect was immediate. The gnolls still lingering on the pikes gave one final, pitiful shudder before collapsing into true death, silence enveloping the area. The very air seemed to tighten, a hush falling over the scene like the breath before a storm.
Then, in perfect unison, the gnolls twitched, their broken forms stirring, their bones cracking as they lurched upright as one. One by one, they peeled themselves off the pikes and assumed orderly rows, their glassy, lifeless eyes locking onto Ainz, as if awaiting for his command.
Then Nefarian let out a low whistle, his expression unreadable. "You make it look insultingly easy, master."
Ainz merely clasped his hands behind his back. "It is easy."
At least for him.
Truth be told, Ainz hadn't put a lot of thought into how he wielded his magic, as it came naturally to him.
'So if I had to explain what I am doing…' he contemplated back to the process he had executed instinctively. First, he gathered energy. Next, he called the souls back, tethering them once more to their lifeless bodies. A simple task, almost effortless. Then, it struck him. The reason necromancy wasn't widely practiced, even among those who should be able to wield it, wasn't just about skill or knowledge. It was about energy.
Buku had access to a similar pool of power, yet she struggled with magic, especially the more arcane and complicated spells. If that was the case, then the issue was not just understanding how necromancy functioned, but having the right fuel, and enough of it. Most mortals, and even dragons, simply did not possess the pure primordial essence required to override the natural cycle of life and death.
Ainz cast Fly and descended towards the undead gnolls. Nefarian quickly followed as the orc guards watched in silence. Ainz ignored them. With another casual flick of his fingers, he extracted all the necrotic energy from the gnolls. They collapsed instantly, their bodies crumpling like discarded puppets, allowing true silence to inhabit the land.
He did not stop there. The next step he did was to recall their souls, but did not provide any of his innate energy, holding himself back. The souls now stuck in the lifeless bodies radiated agony only he could feel as they lingered between the living world and the Shadowlands, the realm of the afterlife, shrieking in agony.
As Ainz inspected the barrier separating the living and the dead, the realization struck him. The barrier between life and death was not an insurmountable wall. It was a flow. Energy from the living naturally bled into death, the transition seamless, inevitable. It only needed to be reversed… necromancy could reverse that flow. It wasn't just raising the dead, or merely manipulating corpses - it was an inversion of nature itself. And he had done it without thinking whenever he wanted. That, more than anything, intrigued him.
Armed with this revelation, he extended his arm towards one of the gnolls. Instead of his usual necrotic energy, he attempted something new. He inverted the natural energies lingering in the air, reanimating one of the gnolls not with death, but by bending the lingering energies of the living realm itself backward, pushing and pulling it to his will.
The results were… fascinating, to say the least.
The gnoll's body jerked upright, its head lolling at an unnatural angle before snapping forward, its eyes glowing with an eerie, almost sickly green light, something distinct from the cold blue flames of standard undead. For a fleeting moment, Ainz thought he had perfected an alternative method for reanimation, one that could be taught to those who couldn't access the same energies he could.
Then he noticed the ground beneath the gnoll.
The once-healthy grass had blackened, curling inward like dying fingers grasping at the air, threatening to crumble like the ash of a fire before the wind. The soil itself cracked, brittle, and lifeless, spreading outward in a perfect circle, as though the land itself recoiled from the unnatural force, drained of all energies.
Ainz narrowed his eyes, deep in thought.
'This won't do. If this method spreads unchecked, I'll be turning Nazarick's holdings into a barren wasteland. It seems I will have to personally reanimate everything; otherwise, the very land will die.'
He let out a sigh before addressing Nefarian, "I cannot teach others how I create the undead. The source of the power comes from me directly. Any method mortals could use would…" He motioned to the lifeless patch. "...result in this."
"Master…" Nefarian stroked his chin in a clear imitation of Ainz, "...would it be possible to create some sort of batteries with your energies that your servants could use?"
Ainz tilted his head in consideration, "Batteries?" he echoed, his mind already turning over the logistics. The concept itself wasn't foreign. Mana potions, soul crystals, phylacteries, and Scourge necromantic constructs all functioned on similar principles, storing power for later use. But could he bottle his necrotic energy in a way that his subordinates could safely use?
"I will have to look into it, but that might just be the solution we need for on-the-spot reanimation." Ainz nodded.
At that very moment a gate opened in front of him, and one of the dragon guards charged through.
"Report!" Ainz ordered before the wyrm snapped to attention, saluting rigidly, "Those small rats – gnomes and goblins – they fought each other. The laboratories have sustained damage, Sire."
The dragon saluted rigidly, his tone betraying thinly veiled anger. With dragons forbidden from killing Ainz's subjects for perceived small offenses, he clearly was unable to punish the tiny creatures for their offense and destruction.
"Why did they fight?" Ainz inquired.
The dragon's tail lashed in irritation in his half-transformed visage form, though his words remained rigidly formal. "Unknown, Sire. The cause is unclear, but the damage is extensive."
Ainz let out an internal sigh. Of course, it is. He cast a glance toward Nefarian, who was watching the exchange with mild amusement. "Proceed with the plan," he instructed, "And ensure everyone knows to avoid provoking alliance forces."
Without another word, he stepped through the gate.
The sight that greeted him was… unfortunate. The laboratory was in ruins. Large sections of the sprawling facility were obliterated. Once a marvel of gnomish ingenuity and goblin recklessness, now lay in smoldering ruin. Jagged metal shards jutted from the walls like shrapnel frozen mid-explosion. Alchemical glassware, once neatly arranged in rows, lay shattered across the floor, their contents hissing and bubbling ominously. Sparks flickered from exposed wiring, and the acrid scent of burnt oil and ozone clung thick in the air.
And the bodies. Not corpses, thankfully, but the aftermath of the conflict was evident in the moaning, battered forms strewn about like discarded dolls. Ainz swept his gaze across the chaos. Gnomes and goblins alike groaned in pain, many clutching missing limbs; though, judging by the cauterized edges, some had been frozen rather than severed, implying magic had been involved.
Others convulsed, their bodies reacting violently to whatever horrors their adversaries had cooked up. One unfortunate goblin lay twitching, his skin a vivid shade of polka-dotted magenta that even Buku would shudder at.
'…I don't even want to know what caused that.'
His gaze landed on the unconscious forms of Icuzz and Krixixx, the respective faction leaders.
Unconscious. Useless.
Ainz sighed internally. Of course, the only two people who could explain this disaster are in no state to answer questions.
The more he observed, the more his irritation grew. He had heard that gnomes and goblins didn't exactly see eye to eye, but he had assumed it was nothing more than professional rivalry, a mutual disdain that resulted in sarcastic jabs and petty sabotage. Not this. This was open hostility. Hostility that he could not tolerate.
And he had nearly lost the entire science branch of Nazarick because of it. A small miracle no one had actually died, he could tell that the bodies on the floor were still alive. Not that death was much of an issue in Nazarick - Buku could simply bring them back - but resurrection had its own consequences.
Some mental scars did not fade so easily, and necromancy could either cement them further or wipe their minds clean.
His red eyes burned brighter as he straightened, his voice carrying a dangerous weight. "Get them healed and gather everyone in the throne room."
The wyrm saluted sharply, already barking orders to nearby troll witch doctors who had just arrived at the scene.
Ainz let his gaze linger on the ruined lab once more. This would not stand. As he turned to leave, the lingering scent of burnt metal and singed goblin hair filled the air.
The members of both races stood before him, reduced to a shivering mess.
The gnomes, as the newest members of the Empire, appeared moments away from transcending the material world out of sheer fright. The goblins weren't faring much better. Krixixx had collapsed onto the floor in a full-body prostration, mumbling incoherent prayers in a desperate attempt to ward off his impending doom.
Ainz sat upon his throne, drumming his fingers against the armrest with slow, deliberate movements. Each tap echoed ominously through the grand chamber, amplifying the already suffocating atmosphere. The very air felt heavier, as if the room itself was bending under the weight of his presence. After letting them stew in agonizing silence for several long seconds, Ainz finally leaned forward, the crimson glow of his eyes intensifying.
"Icuz, Krixixx, I want this resolved, now." His voice carried the weight of divine judgment. The temperature in the room seemed to plummet. "Why," he continued, his voice slightly rising for maximum intimidation, "are your races at odds with one another?"
Icuz, the gnome in question, swallowed hard. He looked like he wanted to evaporate on the spot. For a moment, it seemed like he had forgotten how words functioned, his lips moving without sound. Then, with great effort, he forced himself to speak, starting off slowly. "Goblins have a… history of stealing inventions from gnomes and one of those…" The gnome paused and took a long breath before continuing. "...goblins tried to steal my son's elemental transmutator!"
Gasps rippled through the gnomes. Even among goblins, there were a few awkward coughs. Krixixx, still pressed against the floor, barely lifted his head before a goblin from his group "helpfully" cut in.
"Borrow! We work for the same master, you pompous, no-good-"
That was as far as he got.
"Enough!"
Ainz didn't raise his voice, yet the single word thundered through the chamber. The goblin who had spoken promptly threw himself into a bow so low his forehead smacked against the stone floor. "I'm sorry, boss! I mean, your Imperial Majesty!" he whimpered, trembling like a leaf caught in a hurricane.
Ainz leaned back and spoke calmly, his anger dissipating as usual, "For Nazarick to flourish, everyone must work together." His glowing red eyes swept across the gathered gnomes and goblins, ensuring they understood the gravity of his words. "It seems I miscalculated by leaving you all without oversight."
Both factions flinched at the word "miscalculated." Ainz was pleased. The idea that he, the Supreme One, had made an error was so unthinkable that they were probably panicking over what the consequences of such a mistake entailed. "I will assign a coordinator to oversee your operations."
He let the words settle before adding, with a sharp edge to his tone, "Until then, there will be clear communication and no conflict. If there are disagreements, you report them. You do not…" he tapped the armrest of his throne, his fingers clicking softly. "...start a gang war. I don't want another such incident. Or else." A collective shudder ran through the gathered group. "Am I clear?"
Icuz, whose face had turned several shades paler, was the first to violently nod. "Perfectly!" he nearly shouted, the others around him hurriedly nodding.
"We'll be on our best behavior, Sire," Krixixx added hastily, still pressed against the floor.
Ainz nodded slowly. "Good."
With that, he dismissed them with a wave of his hand, watching as they scrambled to vacate the throne room at record-breaking speeds, stampeding in mutual terror. Some tripped over their own feet, others over each other, out of sheer fear. Now, the real problem.
Who among his subordinates would make the best coordinator for these troublesome engineers? Someone who could keep order, enforce discipline, and prevent another catastrophe from happening.
There was one option he had yet to explore, as creating high-tier undead was the last resort due to mortals not wanting to be near rotting or skeletal creatures: Demons. The question was, could these creatures be trusted? According to reports, Sylvanas had a demon servant who was highly competent in politics and administration, so they could at least be employed, but trust was another issue.
Ainz pulled out the demon summoning book he had purchased in Orgrimmar and skimmed through the tome. The described demons were considered beyond dangerous and beyond mortal control, but he wasn't a mortal anymore and as of now, he and Buku might have been the strongest entities found on Azeroth, barring the most ancient powerhouses whose power levels were still unknown.
The safest bet for now was to consult Brorg, the leader of the warlock council. If anyone understood demonology, it was him.
The old warlock arrived through a sanctioned portal. Without hesitation, he dropped to one knee and bowed deeply. "You called for me, Sire?"
"Yes." Ainz stood from his throne and handed the summoning tome to the warlock, "Take a look and give me your opinion."
Brorg wasted no time. He accepted the book with a grunt, flipping through the pages with sharp, practiced movements. His eyes narrowed as he skimmed the contents, his thick fingers tracing the demonic sigils with intrigue.
After several long moments, he snapped the tome shut and handed it back. "To control dreadlords and doom guards usually requires a group of warlocks or one exceptionally powerful one, and even then it is basically suicide. I assume your power lets you ensnare such demons easily."
"Controlling them should be a trivial matter for me." Ainz nodded.
Brorg, however, did not share his confidence. The warlock crossed his arms, his tusks jutting slightly as he frowned. "I must warn you, Sire, the demons - dreadlords in particular - are not trustworthy by their very nature. The only way to keep them in line is through enslavement and brute force, and assume that they would try to lie and deceive any chance they get. They have been known to undermine their very summoners, even those who successfully summoned and bound them" The warlock warned.
"Well, that's expected," Ainz mused, fingers tapping lightly against the armrest of his throne.
Demons were notorious for their cunning. The Nathrezim, or dreadlords, in particular, were walking embodiments of duplicity. They had infiltrated the highest echelons of Azeroth's factions, played both sides of wars, and left ruin in their wake, all while keeping their clawed fingers clean. But no matter how devious they were, they were not his equal, a pinnacle of magic.
'Let's see…' Ainz considered the best course of action. "I will start with a dreadlord and a pair of doomguards. Eredar can wait until I have properly tested the lesser demons first."
The Eredar were a completely different beast. They were among the most powerful demons in pretty much all known fronts. Extremely intelligent, masters of magic, and very strong in melee combat. Even Azeroth's most seasoned champions from their most powerful nations required entire teams to bring down a single one of them. In fact, the demon lord who was behind the third war was an Eredar, who had orchestrated the whole thing.
Usually, a demon summoning required a sacrifice - a lot of life force that could be used as fuel for the chaotic fel magics. Fortunately, that was no obstacle for Ainz. Since he could convert his own mana into any form of energy, he simply gathered raw fel and infused it into the spell. Ainz lifted his arm and a neon green magical circle appeared before him. Before proceeding, he activated dimensional lock so demons couldn't escape and then poured the required amount of fel into the ritual, readying every soul-binding spell, curse, and debuff he knew of.
The moment the final sigil burned into place, the floor within the circle liquified and three winged horned creatures crawled through. Two were bulky and red-skinned demons with large straight horns at the sides of their heads, and the last had grey skin and curved horns, in the center.
"What is this?" the dreadlord purred, his voice silken yet tainted with mockery. His wings flared slightly as he took a slow, calculated step forward. "A lich summons us. Tell me… Have you betrayed the Lich King?"
Ainz didn't bother to respond. He simply raised a hand and, in an instant, the enslavement ritual activated. The chains of control lashed out and wrapped around all three demons. They writhed, twisting and snarling as the binding energy sank deep into their very cores, embedding themselves with frightening speed. The doomguards roared, straining against the spell with brute force, but it was futile.
The dreadlord, however, did not fight. He merely chuckled. Ainz could hear it. Low. Amused. Almost intrigued.
"So," the dreadlord murmured, glancing down at the glowing chains encircling his limbs. "you have some skill.." His sharp nails traced the bindings in idle curiosity before his gaze flicked back to Ainz, horns flickering. "Very well, let's see where this goes."
Ainz still ignored him. Instead, he turned to Brorg and his guards. "Brorg, guards, leave the throne room," Ainz ordered, still ignoring the demon.
The very moment the last guard stepped out and the doors clicked shut, Ainz unleashed his aura of despair upon the trio of demons, limiting its range to just the throne room. The oppressive wave rolled over the trio of demons like a tsunami of death itself. Unlike the last time he had used it against mere humans, he held back far less, as befitting the situation. The demons before him were far sturdier, and so he increased the power accordingly, bathing them in fatal amounts of negative energy.
The results were instantaneous.
Hul'Sar, the grey-skinned demon, let out a sharp, guttural gasp, his wings convulsing as he collapsed to his knees. The mighty doomguards, once brimming with unyielding arrogance, followed suit, their hulking frames shuddering as if their very souls were being dragged into hell, straining against the pressure.
"Y-you are not a mere lich!" Hul'Sar choked out, his voice strained, his entire body trembling under the sheer weight of Ainz's presence. His taloned fingers dug into the stone floor in an instinctive attempt to ground himself.
Ainz did not react. He merely watched them, When he finally spoke, his voice was cold, "I am of a race called Supreme Beings. And you have but one choice. Serve me with true loyalty… or be sent back to the twisting Nether."
"Should you attempt to deceive or betray me, I will use your very existence as fuel for my goals." It was not a threat.
It was a fact.
A moment of silence hung in the air, save for the labored breaths of the demons. Then, finally, "I will serve you, master." Hul'Sar, still kneeling, dipped his head in submission. His ever-present smirk had vanished, replaced with solemn obedience. His voice, once filled with sly amusement, now carried an edge of something else. Fear? Respect? Perhaps both.
"My name is Hul'Sar and I am yours to command… for as long as I remain in Azeroth."
Almost immediately, the two doomguards followed suit. "We serve, master." Their guttural voices rumbled in unison, their postures now deeply submissive.
Ainz watched them for a moment, then leaned back into his throne, his expression unreadable. "We shall see." His glowing eyes narrowed slightly. "And what sort of payment do you require?" he inquired.
It would be naive to assume that a demon of all creatures offered service without some expectation of reward.
"Souls of your enemies. We do not require much. Just one or two a year to prolong our presence, master." Hul'Sar rose and smirked again, motioning for the others to stay down.
The way he said 'master' was interesting. It wasn't said begrudgingly, but there was an undeniable undertone of anticipation. Ainz steepled his fingers. "Would raw fel energy work as a substitute?"
Hul'Sar arched an eyebrow, "It does-"
Ainz didn't wait for a full answer and went forward with his experiment, sending a decent amount of fel energy directly to Hul'Sar's core. The demon silently stared back at him, his eyes widening and his smirk replaced with genuine confusion. He had not felt life energy gathered and used as fuel to generate fel. The chaotic magical energies came from the undead directly.
Hul'Sar did not speak immediately. Instead, he stared at Ainz. He appeared… bewildered. "This… this will be enough to keep me present for years." The demon exclaimed.
"Do you still require souls?" Ainz asked.
"Not require, per se," he admitted, his voice regaining its usual suave edge. "But if I am to be rewarded, I would still like to extract them from your enemies - personally,"
Ainz gave the demon a long look, "Then you will get your chance,"
Duplicity was still likely. Of course, it was expected. But for now, until he obtained more dragons to strengthen his forces, demons would suffice.
Now all that remained was to assign the three to vacant positions and train them, and should no complications arise, summon a few more. Everything was proceeding according to plan.
Editing by NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.
Proofreading by fvvck, I AM THE STRING CUTTER, IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, and aidan_lo.
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