Narberal Gamma, the elegant and composed battle maid of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, found herself in an unexpected setting - the mysterious and ever-shifting House of Mystery. Clad in a sophisticated office attire that perfectly accentuated her graceful demeanor, Narberal followed closely behind the enigmatic and wily John Constantine.
'Scratch enigmatic. Pathetic was more like it.' She inwardly thought to herself.
Her usual silver battle maid uniform was replaced by a tailored black blazer that hugged her slender frame, accompanied by a crisp white blouse underneath. A knee-length pencil skirt and polished black heels completed the ensemble, giving her an air of professionalism that contrasted with her formidable combat abilities.
Despite the surreal surroundings of the House of Mystery, Narberal maintained her composed demeanor, her piercing blue eyes scanning the ever-changing corridors and rooms with an indifferent look. The soft click-clack of her heels echoed through the ethereal halls as she gracefully matched Constantine's every step.
"Impressive place," she commented nonchalantly, "For a worm, this is impressive… underserved in fact."
"Is that so? I am glad I could even impress you," Constantine clicked his tongue, evidently unappreciative of company. "Would you follow me everywhere and everywhen from now on?"
"The orders of the Supreme One are absolute," Narberal answered, her tone never shifting.
As they traversed through the House of Mystery, Narberal Gamma, and John Constantine encountered bizarre rooms and surreal landscapes that defied the laws of reality. The air was thick with otherworldly energy that seemed to warp time and space.
Constantine, with his ever-present smirk, led Narberal through the labyrinthine corridors as if he knew the place like the back of his hand. Despite the peculiar surroundings, Narberal maintained her stoic composure, her elegant attire seemingly untouched by the surreal environment.
"Ever get lost in here, Constantine?" Narberal inquired, her piercing blue eyes scanning their surroundings with analytical precision.
"Lost? Nah, love. The House has a way of takin' you where you need to be," Constantine replied, his tone nonchalant. "It's got a mind of its own, you see. This? This here is a very short tour of my place."
Narberal raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, her composed expression unchanged. "A sentient structure? Interesting. The tour, however, was passable."
Constantine chuckled, a sound that echoed through the shifting walls of the House. "You've got a lot to learn about this place, sweetheart."
As they continued their journey, they stumbled upon a… bar. This must be the destination Constantine had in mind since the beginning. Narberal had the inkling suspicion that Constantine must be buying time. But why? Narberal wasn't really curious, so she left it be.
In the bar, there was a purple woman with strange features— bald, sharp tattoos of darker shade, and dark eyes. She was dutifully cleaning goblets by the bar.
"Orchid, give me just anything, one in the rocks, and for the lady, whatever she wanted." Constantine casually leaned by the bar as he gave his orders to Orchid, the purple woman.
Constantine then addressed Narberal. "So for starters, how about an introduction? I just couldn't address you as 'maid' after all, right, sweetheart? Or do you prefer I just call you sweetheart?"
Narberal arched an eyebrow at Constantine's casual demeanor. "My name is Narberal Gamma. Titles are inconsequential in the presence of the Supreme One's will."
"Right, right. Narberal Gamma, the battle maid with a touch of class. I like it," Constantine said, a playful glint in his eyes. The barkeep, Orchid, placed a drink in front of him, and he took a sip before continuing. "My name is John Constantine, or surely you have been debriefed by your superiors of that, but anyways. Nice to meet you. Meanwhile, this Purple Lady here is Orchid, you don't mind her being here, right?"
"Greetings, a pleasure to meet you," Orchid smiled as she placed a glass of margarita on the rocks for Constantine. "For Miss Gamma, what do you like to drink?"
"The Supreme One's will is beyond my understanding. I am here to fulfill his desires," Narberal replied, her gaze fixed on the alcohol swirling in Constantine's glass. She then redirected her attention to Orchid. "I won't need anything, but thank you."
Constantine chuckled, swirling the ice in his drink. "Mysterious boss you've got. Must be a hell of a gig."
"The Supreme One is absolute," Narberal reiterated, her stoicism unwavering.
The purple-skinned Orchid, seemingly unbothered, just watched. "You two seem like quite the pair. I don't get many visitors with such... unique tastes." Her reactions were almost artificial, thus giving Narberal suspicion as to the nature of the purple woman.
Constantine leaned back against the bar, a sly grin on his face. "Unique tastes, eh? Well, darling, you haven't seen anything yet. You have been cooped up in this place for… eternity."
Narberal's piercing blue eyes studied Constantine for a moment before she spoke, "I am not here for tastes or diversions. I am here to follow and protect. You offending worm."
The worm chuckled again, taking another sip. "Fair enough. But sometimes, a bit of diversion is what you need. Keeps things interesting, you know? Still, you aren't gonna suddenly kill me, right?"
As Narberal contemplated his words, Orchid poured another round of drinks, an orange juice, and then she pushed it to Narberal. "Please, on the house." Orchid smiled.
"John Constantine, you have been acknowledged by Lord Ainz. You have been made his magic apprentice. And that alone… had made you above me in station if not equal…" Narberal stated, her tone unwavering, but there was a gleam of annoyance in her eyes.
Constantine grinned, raising his glass. "To clarify, I'd prefer just bein' equals. I wouldn't like to be above you and all… For all I care, I have better things to do…"
With a snap of his fingers, Constantine summoned a misty orb in his palms. "Narberal, you wouldn't mind me talking to the dead, don't you?" Magical incantations left Constantine's mouth, and bit by bit, magic accumulated.
"What are you doing?" Narberal's voice was thick with killing intent.
"I am going to summon the vestige of the Spectre. I have questions for him. I know Spectre did Nazarick dirty, but the same goes for me. That is why I will have my answers. Hmm… Oh shit, it looks like this is more difficult than I thought…" Constantine frowned, realizing he couldn't draw upon the vestige of the Spectre.
Drawing souls was considerably harder, not to mention the soul of a powerful being like the Spectre, but a vestige was different. A Vestige was a memory manifested into phenomena, basically, they were remnants of data to which John called to a temporary spectrum… And from there, John would begin his investigation, interrogation, or whatever.
This magic was possible even with the target being 'erased' from existence so it was a pretty handy trick for a detective.
John Constantine stared at the faint spectral trail left by the vestige in the dimly lit room of the House of Mystery. The air was thick with otherworldly energy, and the shifting walls seemed to pulse with a mysterious force.
"This one's a tricky bugger," John muttered to himself, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "But a vestige, eh? Should be easier to have a chat."
Narberal Gamma observed silently, her composed demeanor unwavering as John prepared to delve into the remnants of the manifested memory.
"Keep an eye out, Narberal. These things can get messy," John warned, his gaze focused on the spectral trail before him.
"Understood," Narberal replied, her piercing blue eyes scanning their surroundings with a heightened sense of alertness.
John took a deep breath, his hands hovering over the ephemeral essence of the vestige. With a low incantation and a flick of his fingers, he began the process of summoning the memory's temporary spectrum.
The room seemed to shimmer as the vestige responded to John's invocation. Flickering images and echoes of a past event materialized in the air, forming a surreal tableau of fragmented memories.
And then lo' and behold— stood Spectre, or at least the wisdom conjured from Constantine's magic.
"Now, let's have a little chat, shall we?" John addressed the ethereal manifestation, his tone a mix of confidence and curiosity.
The vestige, a spectral echo of a bygone moment, hovered before them like a ghostly apparition. It emanated a faint glow, and its form wavered with the memories it held.
Narberal observed the interaction with a watchful eye, and she couldn't be more annoyed. "What is the meaning of this, Constantine?"
"This is the Spectre. But he is dead, killed by Ainz Ooal Gown…" John answered, his voice cutting through the spectral silence. "I am doing my best here to maintain transparency for the sake of my relationship with you, Nazarick, and Gown. So I'd appreciate it if you just leave me to my own devices."
"Don't be insolent, I shan't allow you to address the Supreme One so casually." Narberal spat, her eyes narrowed to the vague image of the Spectre. "Whatever you are scheming, Constantine. Do not. Because you wouldn't like it."
John raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Scheming? Love, I'm bound by a contract with the Supreme One. No schemes here, just a little chat with the remnants of this Spectre fella."
Narberal's gaze remained stern. "Your words carry no weight. Actions speak louder than… contracts."
John chuckled, his fingers tracing patterns in the air as he continued to maintain the connection with the vestige. "Trust me, darling. I'm not one to mess with the big players. Besides, I've got my own interests in finding out what happened between the Spectre and Ainz… as to why and how I was put in this situation… because honestly, it pisses me off."
The ethereal manifestation of the Spectre seemed to flicker as if responding to John's words. The spectral echo took on a ghostly form, and its voice echoed in the room. "John Constantine, you have called upon me… no… my vestige… I take it that I have died?"
Constantine leaned back, taking a sip from his glass before responding. "Easy there, Spectre. Yes, you died. And I've got questions, and you've got answer. So, spill it."
Narberal's eyes narrowed further, her hand hovering over her summoned weapon, a familiar staff. "Choose your words wisely, Constantine."
The Spectre's luminous form shifted, expressing a mixture of anguish and sorrow. "I am sorry, John Constantine for I have put you in this situation. The path I saw in you will be a long and painful one… "
Constantine's gaze hardened. "And what path might that be?"
"A plan towards peace. Because of my inclination, I stood in Ainz's way too many times, he has struck me down too many times every time I return, and every time I rise once more," the Spectre explained, his voice carrying a haunting resonance. "More worlds as equally just perishes…"
Narberal remained stoic but alert, her focus unwavering. "Do you speak the truth, Spectre?"
"Why would I lie, battle maid? My existence is tied to the truth," the Spectre replied, its form pulsating with residual energy. "I am programmed in a way that I won't stop until wickedness is dealt with extreme prejudice. I am not a machine, but these programs do exist. I function in ways I cannot go against. This is a fact. And because of these programs, and my inability to kill Ainz, I was reduced to an inconsistency that if never resolved, time will never move forward."
Constantine glanced at Narberal before addressing the Spectre. "I'll be honest. I don't understand half of the shit you said. But let me get this straight… you have a task to kill Ainz, correct? And because you couldn't, you came to me and got yourself killed so… what? Do you expect me to kill that monster? I'd be honest, I might as well throw myself to Trigon's tender arms…"
"…" The Spectre was humanly silent at Constantine's outburst.
"Spectre! No. more. Secrets. If I have to resurrect you from the fucking Lazarus Pit, I will!" Constantine added with hate in his nostrils. "Or I swear, damn it all, I am gonna fuckin grab your throat and then drag you to the skelly's tomb, and shove you up his ass!"
Narberal was offended, and was on the verge of losing her patience, "Such blasphemous words—"
From far away, eyes peered through the scenery happening inside the House of Mystery. Ainz used the Message Function to contact Narberal. "Leave Constantine and the Vestige alone, Narberal… Observe with caution, and try to gain information from this vestige."
Through the Mirror of Remote Viewing enhanced by Ainz's Cosmic Awareness, Narberal could be seen remaining still for a moment… Clearly, she had heard Ainz's orders. She had actually unsummoned her weapon and reigned in her temper. This relieved Ainz a bit. "This is good… Now, let's see what the Spectre really wanted… and if Constantine was really worth it my considerations."
For some time, Ainz had been engaging in this act of voyeurism. He had peered through alternate universes, and even… alternate dimensions such as Blood Reef, 5th Dimension, Mirror World, etc.
Of course, Ainz did very little peeking as he feared he might be detected. Cosmic Awareness must be a staple ability for higher beings in this universe in that Ainz just kept on brushing with them, and most annoying of all was that there was no way for Ainz to erase his traces.
Ainz would hate it if another Spectre came knocking at his doorsteps just to get his beloved people killed… again. Thankfully, it appeared that the Spectre was a unique case, and the conversation between John Constantine and the Spectre seemed to prove it.
"I apologize I am not eloquent enough to express the answers I think that you want to hear." Spectre's visage actually bows in an apologetic manner. "I am not the real Spectre after all, but a shadow of his memory."
Constantine's lips twitched, and the person who came to save the day… was unexpectedly Orchid.
"Please nod if I get it right. Is this what you Spectre meant? That you'd have to fight Ainz, to kill him, because that is your sacred duty which you have to fulfill no matter what? However, every time you attempt to kill him, you fail. And instead, it is you who gets killed? As a result, you have come to decide the only solution to this is that you decide your own death?"
"But I already know that—" John complained, but Orchid shuts him off.
"Hush, darling. Your intentions exactly for Constantine was for him to broker a deal for you from the Overlord, which he had failed miserably judging by how much he complained and kept drinking his unholy beverage. Then we take it that his failings were part of your scheme in that you had foreseen it too. Whatever the deal was, it would be to your advantage. But how?"
"Yes! Yes! That's what I want to know!" Constantine was already inside the bar and was drinking directly from a bottle of suspicious liquid. "Orchid, you mad woman, you are so eloquent. The way it is now, I think the world was pretty fucked up already judging by how conniving that skeleton is. Most Metahumans would be helpless given their lack of resistance to magic. Forget Superman, the fact he could steal magic is problematic enough!Give him Shazam, and then the next thing we know, he'd be fucking unstoppable, and me having under his thumb all but proves my point!"
It was impressive that Narberal could still keep her temper in check, judging by how open Constantine was on putting mud on the name of Ainz Ooal Gown.
"Basically, that's it." Spectre confessed, nodding, "He was unstoppable. There was no stopping him. He is outside destiny's rules. Any attempt to stop him would lead to worse outcomes. I know. I have seen it. The only way to win over Death was to co-exist with it."
The tension in the room was palpable as the Spectre's revelation hung in the air. Constantine's frustration simmered beneath the surface, and Narberal maintained her watchful stance as she had heeded Ainz's orders to observe. But more than meets the eyes, there was now a sudden change in her attitude.
"You must be kidding me," Constantine deflated, his shoulders dropping down as he face-palmed.
"Spectre, I appreciate you understanding the greatness of my lord. But why involve… Constantine? What do you see from Constantine?" Narberal's voice was calm and straightforward.
The Spectre's form rippled with ghostly energy as he responded, "John Constantine possesses a not-so-unique quality— he is the best investigator there is."
"I am flattered—"
"The truth is… I would have gone to Batman if he was as knowledgeable as you to the occult."
"Fuuuck you—"
"I want you Constantine to investigate the goodness in Ainz Ooal Gown…"
Constantine scoffed, taking another sip of his drink. "I don't even know why I tagged along with you."
Narberal's eyes narrowed further, her patience unsurprisingly dwindling. "Of course, he is good! You lot wouldn't understand, but he stayed. He loved us. He is selfless. He is everything! To us. To Nazarick!"
"Whoa, chill, sweetie," Constantine's bottle was emptied, but then it exploded into small pieces of glass. He detected magic in the air, and he looked at the culprit— Narberal was scowling at him.
"Why it is that lowly mortals would think he was not good? Insolence! Your feeble minds wouldn't understand the Greatness of Lord Momon—" Before she could spill out all of the indignant emotions rumbling in her heart, she heard Ainz's voice in her head, gently chiding her.
"Enough, Narberal…. Calm your heart down. I wouldn't be going anywhere."
As sudden as her outburst, she proceeded to kneel. "Forgive me Lord Ainz."
"?"
John oh John Constantine? Did the universe just hate him, or was it all just bad luck?
"H-he's here all along?"
Sighing at the pain of the ass maid, John then proceeded to cast various magic to get a feel of what was exactly happening, but he couldn't get anything. The reason John had conducted his talks with the Spectre's Vestige so openly was because of the transparency demanded for his apprenticeship.
As stated in the contract, he must not lie, deceive, or hide information from Ainz Ooal Gown and his constituents.
John moved out of the bar and kneeled, copying the maid. Strangely, the picture formed was the two kneeling to Orchid. Feeling weirded and out of it, Orchid walked out of their sight… and kneeled, facing where she assumed the Overlord must be standing.
For some time since getting out of the tomb, John was very tempted to just commit suicide, escape to hell, and strike a deal with Trigon instead. Trigon was at least limited to Hell, but the Skelly Overlord as an exaggeratedly powerful mystic was obviously not limited to a single dimension.
However, the magical contract detailing the terms of his apprenticeship was very detailed and disobedience wasn't really possible for him. Why Constantine? Why even sign the contract? Well, if he didn't, John would most likely end up killed by then… John sincerely thought he would be turned either as a slave or a glorified errand boy, but no, he didn't. He became the big bad boss's apprentice instead!
After some time, Narberal then stood up.
John followed, he looked at Narberal with confusion.
At this point, the Vestige of Spectre had long vanished as the effects of the magic John was casting had ceased. It was a cause for disappointment since John could only summon an individual's Vestige once for every caster to every summoning.
"What is it, worm?" Narberal cracked her knuckles, feeling a bit punch-y at the moment.
"What happened? Where is Ainz, er… Lord Ainz?"
"The Supreme One had just left," Narberal pouted.
"What happened?" John repeated.
"I just got scolded," Narberal answered.
"Summoning a Vestige is an interesting concept," Ainz hummed to himself as he began scouring Planet Earth for Supernatural Creatures, or to be more exact, magic-wielding creatures through his Mirror for Remote Viewing.
It had taken him time, but Ainz had ascertained that personally strengthening himself was the best course of action if he wanted to protect Nazarick… The more important problem however was not how to get strong, but ensuring he stayed strong. Despite learning from the Spectre that he was some kind of an unstoppable force, Ainz remained humble.
Being drunk on power was never Ainz's thing.
Moreover, while personal strength was good, Ainz also hoped for his people to become stronger, most notably the Guardians. One of the reasons he had assigned Narberal to bodyguard John was so that she could learn from him—
Specs aside, Narberal was the closest to John Constantine when it came to skillset. This world had a magic system unique to its own, and it wouldn't hurt to study it.
Sebas who was waiting for Ainz for some time began to speak, "Lord Ainz, Narberal's actions must have irked you. As her superior, I feel responsible for this…"
"Enough, Sebas," Ainz said with finality. "If you want to take responsibility then don't. I have scolded her already…" Thinking that his response might be lacking, Ainz added hastily, "If you felt responsible then simply give her a light scolding, but there is no need to go so far."
"I understand," Sebas softly remarked. "I am filled with gratitude by your kindness…"
"Sebas," Ainz rubbed his chin as he watched over an interesting character— the people called this caped crusader 'Batman' as a force of justice that ruled through fear. "Call Albedo, Demiurge, and Pandora's Actor for me… I needed to discuss an opportunity for an opening project I have in mind…"
"As you will," Sebas nodded respectfully before leaving to summon the designated individuals.
9th Floor. The Bar.
A few hours ago…
The dimly lit room echoed with the melancholic clink of ice cubes against the glass as Albedo sat alone at the worn-out bar, nursing her sorrows in a sea of liquor. The amber liquid swirled in the tall glass, mirroring the turmoil within her troubled mind.
The bartender, a mushroom man with a sympathetic gaze, approached and asked, "Rough day, huh?" Clavu easily known as Sous Chef had seen a lot of customers in his bar, and while Demiurge who was sitting beside Albedo was a casual customer, Albedo was not.
Albedo sighed deeply, her voice heavy with the weight of her emotions, "You could say that. Life has a way of mixing paints I never intended to use."
The bartender poured another shot and slid it across the counter, saying, "Sometimes, the only palette we have is the one life gives us."
Albedo offered a half-smile, acknowledging the truth in his words, and took a sip, letting the bitterness of the alcohol temporarily drown out the bitterness in her heart. She seemed to want to say something, but she hesitated and simply drank more.
Besides her was an unusual Demiurge whose face would transform into different expressions from anger, contemplation, disgust, and self-reproach as if he were a Kabuki Theater performer.
"What's the problem, Lord Demiurge?" Sous Chef asked.
Demiurge shifted uncomfortably on his barstool, his expression momentarily settling on contemplation. "Ah, Clavu, my dear friend, the intricacies of life weave a tapestry of complexities that even my intellect struggles to decipher. How can I make it up to Lord Ainz after my debacle? To be killed so mercilessly without any resistance and so helplessly has made me realize how incompetent I am! I cannot let this be!"
Sous Chef chuckled, his mushroom cap nodding in understanding. "Sounds like you've had quite the day too. Want more drinks, or are you here to… I don't know… pass up time?"
Demiurge waved a dismissive hand. "I am not here for the alcohol, my friend. I find solace in observing the human—or in this case, non-human—condition." But nonetheless, he continued sipping from his own glass of wine.
Albedo glanced sideways at Demiurge, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Solace or amusement, Demiurge? I can never quite tell with you. I do know however that misery loves company."
The two clinked their glasses.
But then, a new presence expressed itself in the bar, "Hello~! I'd like an orange juice please!" It was Pandora's Actor in his familiar Neo-Nazi uniform. "Oh, if it isn't the two screw-ups," He leered at Albedo and Demiurge in a bullying way.
Albedo's eyes flashed with annoyance at Pandora's Actor's taunts. She took a deep breath, suppressing her frustration, and turned to face the shape-shifting creation of Ainz Ooal Gown.
"Mind your tongue, Pandora's Actor. Your presence is hardly a beacon of comfort," Albedo retorted, her voice icy.
Demiurge, ever composed, observed the exchange with a hint of amusement. "Ah, Pandora's Actor, the embodiment of theatricality. What brings you to this humble gathering of troubled souls?"
Pandora's Actor chuckled, ordering his orange juice with a mischievous grin. "I heard there was a pity party going on. Thought I'd join in and spice things up a bit." He flashed his Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown on his finger, clearly boasting about it.
This caused Albedo to flash a look of irritation. The ring was an item that would allow individual access to every floor of Nazarick, and to possess it meant that the Supreme One had given his confidence and trust to those who had received it.
Albedor recalled Sebas actually having earned one, and then... Mare too...
Sous Chef, always the calm mediator, served the requested orange juice and tried to diffuse the tension. "Let's keep it civil, everyone. We're all here for different reasons, but that doesn't mean we can't enjoy each other's company."
Albedo shot a disdainful look at Pandora's Actor. "Enjoyment might be a stretch, but I suppose... company is company."
Demiurge, ever the tactician, redirected the conversation. "Speaking of company, Albedo, have you considered what steps we should take now that we've failed our lordship? If only we could kill the Spectre as a form of penance, but that wouldn't do since that miserable creature had been dealt with already. "
Albedo sighed, the weight of her failures pressing on her. "I am well aware, Demiurge. Rebuilding trust, especially with our lordship is a delicate task, but one I am determined to undertake. Still… Damn it… Unfortunately, I couldn't think of any." Her face transformed into a murderous scowl.
Demiurge sighed, "I am the same. I couldn't think of any! Maybe we could conquer a city or two from the outside and gift it to Lord Ainz, but that's just unreasonable considering how we got ourselves…" He gritted his teeth, clearly reluctant to admit it. "killed… and if the 'Spectre' is not a coincidence, then it is only logical to think that there will be another existence out there as strong as the Spectre."
Pandora's Actor interjected, "Rebuilding trust? Well, well. Seems like the Floor Guardians are having a tough time. Maybe you should take a leaf out of my book and embrace… chaos. It's much more entertaining. At least you are going to enjoy it."
Albedo shot him a withering glare. "You are not fooling anyone, Pandora. Of the Guardians, you are among the most intellectual… state your intentions for coming to us."
Demiurge, sensing the rising tension, raised his glass in a mock toast. "To Pandora's intellect, then. May you guide these two poor souls through the labyrinth of life, and rescue them from the mire known as depression."
Pandora's Actor couldn't smile given his biological make-up, so he laughed to express his emotions. "I am glad you asked. I'd happily conspire with you friends. Now, first, let's discuss… Call it a brainstorming session… First question, why is it that Lord Ainz had gone to great lengths to recruit… John Constantine… going even so far as to use a magic contract of the highest quality, and what else? Ah, to actually make this John Constantine as his magic apprentice of all things…"
The bar was now filled with an air of tension as Pandora's Actor's question hung in the dimly lit atmosphere. Albedo and Demiurge exchanged puzzled glances, momentarily setting aside their personal grievances to ponder the peculiar recruitment of John Constantine by Lord Ainz.
Albedo's brow furrowed in thought. "John Constantine, the human magician? I never quite understood the Supreme One's fascination with him. What could a mere mortal offer that the denizens of Nazarick couldn't?"
Demiurge leaned back, contemplating the question with his fingers steepled. "Indeed, Albedo. Lord Ainz's decisions often have a depth beyond our immediate comprehension. Perhaps Constantine possesses knowledge or abilities that could be advantageous in unforeseen situations. This human is the one with Spectre, correct?"
"Yes, that one," Pandora's Actor grinned mischievously, yet his face remained unmoved, as he swirled his orange juice. "Oh, you two are catching on. Lord Ainz, in his infinite wisdom, surely has a grand plan."
Sous Chef, ever the observant barman, couldn't resist joining the discussion. "A magic apprentice, though? That's quite an investment. Lord Ainz doesn't do things without reason. Maybe Constantine has a role to play in the broader scheme of things."
Albedo took a sip of her drink, the bitterness of the alcohol now blending with the bitterness of uncertainty. "If only we had more information. It's frustrating not knowing the full extent of our Supreme One's intentions."
Demiurge, always eager to strategize, leaned forward. "Rather than fascination as Albedo suggested, maybe it is more of an interest… A pet? Unlikely. Hmmm… An experiment, it could be."
Pandora's Actor chuckled, tapping his glass with a finger. "Lord Ainz had paired Constantine with Narberal in an attempt for Narberal to grow, and integrate the magic system of this other world… but surely, there is more to this than just that… I believe we are soon to be called upon by the Supreme One."
And as if it was a prophecy fulfilled, they were then called upon as quickly… Sebas appeared before them, "The Supreme Being requires your presence, Albedo, Demiurge, and Pandora's Actor."
As the servants assembled before Ainz, he gestured for them to take a seat in the grandiose meeting room of Nazarick. Albedo, Demiurge, and Pandora's Actor acknowledged their master with a bow.
"Thank you for gathering promptly," Ainz began, his skeletal visage betraying no emotion. "I've called you all here to discuss a… new project, an opportunity that could significantly enhance our strength and influence."
Albedo, the Overseer of the Guardians, spoke first, her voice resonating with loyalty. "Lord Ainz, we are at your command. What is this project you speak of?"
Ainz leaned forward, his crimson eyes gleaming. "Information is the basis of warfare. I want the three of you to comprehensively create plans as to how we can protect Nazarick… Come back to me as soon as possible."
Demiurge, ever the strategist, interjected, "Lord Ainz, could you please elaborate on the specific aspects you wish to incorporate into this new plan? Understanding the intricacies will allow us to execute your vision more effectively."
Pandora's Actor seconded in agreement with Demiurge's sentiment. "It would be of Nazarick's interest if Lord Ainz would kindly set up parameters for our missions…"
Ainz steepled his bony fingers, considering his words. "If you don't mind, I have a suggestion, however, you are free to discredit it, and offer alternative options. I believe beginning with Gotham City for investigation is an interesting proposition. Feel free to consult Pandora's Actor for he too had access to the special skill, Cosmic Awareness. As for parameters, you are free to use every resource available to Nazarick."
Albedo nodded, her long, flowing hair swaying with the motion. "Understood, Lord Ainz. We shall commence our planning immediately and make efficient use of our resources."
Demiurge inclined his head, his sharp intellect already at work. "Gotham City shall be a fascinating starting point. I shall coordinate with Pandora's Actor to gather information efficiently. We will ensure that Nazarick's interests are well protected."
Pandora's Actor spoke with a bow. "I shall lend my skills to the investigation."
Ainz acknowledged their commitment with a slight nod. "Good. I trust that you will handle this matter with the utmost care and diligence. The protection of Nazarick is our top priority."
As the three Guardians left the meeting room, their minds already buzzing with strategies, Ainz remained seated, contemplating the potential outcomes of this new endeavor. The shadows within the grand chamber seemed to dance with his thoughts, and the air resonated with the weight of the decisions made.
A random question. Where did Shalltear go? Won't she be as equally drunk in depression as Albedo and Demiurge? The thing was… Aura was keeping her occupied.
"You want me to represent us three, you Aura, and Mare to team up?" Shalltear asked in a ridiculous tone as if she had heard the funniest joke in her life. "And what? To give this proposal to Lord Ainz?"
In Shalltear's hand was a set of documents that Aura and Mare had gathered together.
"Why not just let Mare present this to Lord Ainz since it was his idea to begin with?" Shalltear scowls at Mare, her mug was not so pretty when angry.
"Hey," Aura protectively defended Mare. "Go easy on my brother, he isn't big on self-confidence. And we are doing this to help you, you idiot! When you died, I thought it was the end for you and I lost it, but here… is an opportunity."
Aura was not done yet as she brutally scolded Shalltear, "You are alive now, which is good, but for Lord Ainz? I wouldn't think so. As a Guardian, aren't you a failure considering how you died so pathetically in front of Lord Ainz? I want to give an extra emphasis, so hear me, DIED SO PATHETICALLY IN FRONT OF LORD AINZ?"
"But Albedo and Demiurge died first before—" Shalltear weakly argued.
To which, Aura mercilessly cut her off, "And I am sure the two are working hard to redeem themselves. Listen here. Mare has worked hard building walls of dirt around Nazarick to hide it as per Lord Ainz's orders, but on top of that, Lord Ainz had vocally expressed that if we have ideas we want to pinch in, we are free to do so. Mare had an idea, and I think it is the best shot you'd get as any. Do you understand?"
Shalltear sighed, her frustration evident in her crimson eyes as she reluctantly took the documents from Shalltear's hand. "Fine, fine. I'll play along. But this better not be some elaborate prank," she grumbled, flipping through the pages with a disinterested expression.
The proposal plan read— Moon Relocation Plan.
Aura shot Shalltear a triumphant look, while Mare stood quietly, his eyes fixed on the floor. "Look, Shalltear, we know you're strong, and we're not trying to belittle you. It's just that Mare came up with a plan, and we think it could benefit everyone in Nazarick," Aura explained, attempting to soften her earlier harshness.
Shalltear raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity breaking through her tough exterior. "Benefit everyone, you say? I doubt it's anything groundbreaking," she remarked, though a flicker of interest betrayed her initial skepticism.
Mare finally spoke up, his voice quiet but determined. "It's about fortifying our defenses further and creating a more secure environment for Nazarick. Lord Ainz values our input, and this proposal could showcase our dedication to his vision."
Shalltear, although still skeptical, couldn't ignore the earnestness in Mare's words. "Fine, I'll go along with it, but only because I'm curious. And if this fails, it's on you, Mare," she warned, giving him a pointed glare.
Aura smirked, pleased with the progress. "Great! We'll make a formidable team. Just trust us, Shalltear, and you might see a positive change in Lord Ainz's eyes."
As the trio prepared to approach Lord Ainz with their proposal, the tension lingered in the air.
Shalltear couldn't shake off the memory of her previous defeat, but the determination in her comrades' eyes fueled a spark of hope.
Little did they know, this collaboration would lead to unexpected developments within the dark halls of Nazarick. Let's just say Shalltear and Aura would grow closer as sisters very early and this would lead to Nazarick's growth so much further.
John Constantine groaned as he slowly opened his eyes, squinting against the piercing light that seemed to stab through his skull. The throbbing pain in his head made it clear that the previous night had been one of excessive indulgence. He tried to sit up, only to be met with a sharp kick to the gut.
Narberal, the imposing figure standing over him, wore a look of irritation on her face. "You're a disgrace, Constantine. I expected more from someone who claims to deal with the supernatural," she spat, delivering another swift kick.
John winced and managed to prop himself up on his elbows. "Bloody hell, woman! What's got your knickers in a twist?"
Narberal crossed her arms, her expression stern. "You were supposed to acquire your tuition for your apprenticeship to Lord Ainz. Instead, you drowned yourself in alcohol and left yourself this vulnerable. Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused me? By now, I should be in Nazarick,s erving lord Ainz."
Constantine rubbed his temples, attempting to piece together the fragments of the previous night. "Oh, right. The fuckin' tuition fee. Guess I got a bit carried away. My bad."
Narberal's eyes narrowed, and she raised her foot again, but this time Constantine caught it with his hand. "Alright, alright, I get it! No need for the beating. Just give me a moment to clear my head."
She put more force on her foot, kicking John right in his face. For the better of it, Narberal remained unconvinced whether there was worth to the human trash in front of her. "You better get your act together, Constantine. We can't afford to babysit you every time you decide to drown yourself in a bottle. You are now the apprentice of Ainz Ooal Gown, carry yourself like one."
With a begrudging nod, John staggered to his feet, leaning against a nearby wall for support. "Yeah, yeah. Lesson learned. Now, I am gonna be going and get me' self my tuition?"
Narberal sighed, her frustration apparent. "We'll discuss your incompetence and the missions as it is once you prove you're in a state to contribute. Don't make my mission more annoying as it is."
Constantine chuckled weakly, "You've got a point there, love… but please, no more kicking. Bloody hell, I need a drink." When Narberal gave him the so-threatening glare, he decided once in a long time to shut his sassy mouth.
Love the reason for the chap title
Love the reason for the
Tftc
this sh*t is good