Ch. 12: Revelations

"I-I think I recognise that monster…."

Ainz shifted his gaze in the direction of the timid voice. The elven mage's eyes were locked in fright and disbelief upon the place where the Death Knight once stood.

"Oh? Is that why you merely stood watching by the side as the rest of us fought for our lives?" the mantis hissed, its mandibles clacking together to form words tinged with mockery.

The elven mage lowered his head in shame, but the blonde woman walked over to him and put a firm hand on his shoulder. She turned her head to look at the mantis before speaking in an admonishing tone:

"That is uncalled for, Se'zak. Hothris is only an aspirant. It is unreasonable to expect him to face off with an opponent of that caliber; we were not expecting to find something so strong when we came here."

Se'zak's beady obsidian eyes narrowed in contempt. "He is a mage. He need only stand aside and weave his incantations. If he cannot do that much, he will never be Chosen. He is not fit to represent the Brave Coalition."

Ainz cleared his throat before the argument could stretch on any further. He hungered to squeeze every drop of information from the elf named Hothris, but restrained himself to a single question as he addressed the young mage:

"You recognise the Death Knight?"

Hothris jolted in surprise as he heard the Dark Hero's sudden question. He kept his head lowered as he replied, unwilling to meet Ainz's gaze.

"I've read about this...Death Knight in the libraries of Veneria. I didn't remember the name of it at first; only the description of its appearance. That's part of why I couldn't move. It's one of his."

Out of the corner of his eye, Ainz saw the tiger beastman frown in confusion. "Vamir does not follow..."

"The Sorcerer Kingdom." the elf explained, clutching his staff even closer to his chest with his quivering hands. "The Death Knight made up the bulk of his ground forces. It is a legionnaire of death, a servant bound to the will of the Vanquished One."

The air went deathly still. The woman's face turned into a grim, ashen mask, whereas the beastman's fur visibly bristled at Hothris's words. Se'zak folded its long, insectoid body into a bizarre hunch, closing its eyes as if reciting a prayer.

A thousand thoughts raced through Ainz's mind as he finally heard the fateful name of his long lost Kingdom. However, he knew that pressing for answers now would only invite suspicion.

"While I have heard whispers about the so-called Sorcerer Kingdom, this particular Death Knight is not connected to their forces. Death Knights naturally spawn in this world every one hundred years, and roam the land spreading death and destruction in their wake. The one I just killed falls under this category; a notorious scourge on my homeland."

This was a lie, of course. But like with all powerful lies, it was wrapped within a thin veneer of truth. Based on the studies that his "apprentice" Fluder Paradyne had conducted, Death Knights were indeed found to have been recorded appearing throughout the ages-on an approximate cycle of once a century.

The prospect of such a phenomenon had fascinated Ainz, and he had initiated plans to expand the research of magical phenomena across the New World, with the operational headquarters in the Imperial Ministry of Magic. Like many other projects, however, Ainz never had the chance to see them through to the end.

Vanquished One. Behind the human illusion he was donning, the crimson lights of the Overlord's eyes flickered as he heard the unfamiliar title. He knew instinctively to whom it referred to. It was a strange feeling for him; to hear this small sliver of his past existence flickering into the fray of passing conversation.

"So the Black One says." the tiger beastman suddenly spoke, his slitted topaz eyes glinting with suspicion. "But how do we know Momon is telling the truth? How do we know Momon is not-"

"Enough."

The blonde woman interrupted with a tone of steel. The look of pale fear vanished from her face, replaced with a stern bearing that reminded Ainz of a certain Vice-Captain of the Pleiades.

"Sir Momon just saved our lives, and we have yet to utter a word of gratitude or to even introduce ourselves. Instead, we have bickered with one another, and now we are one step away from accusing our rescuer of unspeakable things."

She strode back towards Ainz and straightened herself before solemnly lowering her head as she spoke: "I hope you will forgive our embarrassing and disrespectful conduct. Thank you for saving my life just now; the monster's sword would have surely cleaved me in half if not for your intervention. My name is Solina Mathis of Oaknys, a Chosen of the Brave Coalition."

Ainz blinked his illusionary eyelids in surprise. The swift and firm nature to which the woman had come to his defense was quite uncanny.

She must think I'm safe because her talent isn't detecting anything…..

"Umu. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Mathis. The suspicions of your companions are understandable; I too have heard terrible things about this Sorcerer Kingdom you speak of. As destroying the Death Knight was my objective all along; there is no need for your gratitude. If anything, I should apologise for driving such a terrible fiend into your vicinity."

Ainz gave a respectful bow in return. Solina raised her head, her expression seeming to brighten at his display of understanding. She turned to shoot several glowering looks at the other members of her group.

The tiger beastman sighed before stepping forward. "This one may have said something unreasonable. This one's name is Vamir Shazua, from Oaknys. Vamir is a Chosen." He extended his paw-hand for Ainz to shake, to which the latter accepted.

Vamir nodded approvingly as they shook hands. "Mmm...a firm, powerful grip. Solina is correct. Momon-no, you have a warrior's heart."

Ainz resisted the urge to scratch his head. The beastman's manner of speaking had a strange quality to it that Ainz found rather confusing. He wondered if it was a product of the New World's auto translation of the beastman's native tongue, or if it was simply how Vamir spoke.

The mantis was the next to come forward. "Se'zak of Oaknys. Chosen." it announced passionlessly before skittering away to a corner without another word.

Finally, the elf mage walked in front of him to speak: "I'm H-Hothris Theyron of Veneria. I'm just an Aspirant. Sorry for all that, I wasn't suspecting you or anything. It's just that...that monster…."

Ainz raised a gauntleted hand to stop him. "Think nothing of it. Perhaps you would be willing to share some more of your expertise regarding this..Sorcerer Kingdom at a later time? You seem quite knowledgeable, and there is precious little on that topic back home."

Hothris looked surprised at the oddly specific request, but nodded vigorously in response soon after.

"Oh, does that mean you are planning to stay around these parts for some time? We are heading back to the city after this; perhaps you would like to join us?" interjected Solina in a curious voice.

Ainz nodded. The conversation had been steered back towards his desired direction.

There was just one problem: he was familiar with hardly any of the terms they were throwing out. The invisible gears in his mind whirred as he hurriedly considered how best to glean information from the four strangers without appearing like a complete dolt and raising suspicion.

The term Oaknys sounded familiar; Ainz could swear he had heard it somewhere before, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it…

"I shall take you up on that offer. There is one more thing, however. Pardon my ignorance, but I am unfamiliar with your titles. Chosen? Aspirant? Would these happen to be some sort of rank?" Ainz carefully asked.

"Ah, I suppose it wouldn't be too strange for a foreigner to be unfamiliar with these terms." Solina replied. "How much do you know about the City-State Alliance?"

So that's where I am….

The Sorcerer Kingdom and the City-State Alliance mostly dealt with one another by way of indirect contact through the Baharuth Empire. The absorption of the City-State Alliance was supposed to commence after the two remaining belligerent entities-the Argland Council State and Slane Theocracy-had been neutralised. Ultimately, that never came to pass.

As a result, Ainz had only a very rudimentary grasp of its sociopolitical structure. He tried not to let his hesitation show as he answered the question:

"The City-State Alliance is a union of independent city-states comprising many different races, no? I also remember hearing about some sort of massive tournament held between the cities every four years."

He silently examined the expressions of the four individuals, but none seemed to react irregularly to his mundane explanation.

"Hmm...your description is generally correct, albeit a bit antiquated. I suppose the lands of the far South would have received little news regarding the City-State Alliance's transformation over this past century. " It was Hothris who replied this time, eager to prove his wealth of knowledge to remedy his failure during the battle.

"In response to external pressure from the Equestrian King many decades ago, the former system of twelve independent cities of the City-State Alliance has been reconfigured. Now, the City-State Alliance is composed of three Coalitions, each consisting of four cities."

"There is our coalition, the Brave Coalition, which consists of Veneria, Greater Listaran, Oaknys and New Orcneas.

There is the Elothris coalition, which consists of Karnassus, Beppo Allo, East Gaith and West Gaith.

Finally, there is the Kabelia Coalition, which consists of Bebad, Grand Wythes, Franklin and Ris."

"The former quinquennial tournament has been trimmed down to only the Connelier, which is the highly important and popular battle event from the broader City-State tournament of the past. The Connelier is now held every four years between the three Coalitions rather than between all the cities. Ten representatives chosen from each Coalition do battle under a magic item, the Standard of Peace…"

Hothris stopped suddenly as he noticed the surging impatience on his comrades' faces.

"Oh-sorry! I'll get to the point."

No, keep going, I need more intel! Ainz silently protested, but he forced his frustration down to instead give a polite nod for the elf to continue.

"The title of Chosen is granted to those selected as one of the ten representatives of a Coalition in the Connelier. An Aspirant like me is someone who is a potential candidate to be Chosen."

Ainz mulled over the elf's words in his head. Based on Hothris's description of how the City-State Alliance had changed, at least several decades had passed while he was gone. He wondered whether donning the Dark Hero persona was an appropriate decision after all. He supposed it all depended on whether the name contained any lasting historical prominence.

Based on the reactions of the group before him, Momon did not seem to be a widely recognised name. Given that Darkness's sphere of activity was more or less confined to the Sorcerer Kingdom in the years preceding Ainz's banishment, it would make sense for the Raven Black Hero to remain an obscure figure in a place like the City-State Alliance after all these years.

But what about elsewhere? Would any neutral or hostile parties who remembered Momon still be alive? The vague memory of an individual surfaced in Ainz's mind, but the image dissipated in his head before it could fully take form.

"Vamir has an idea." mused the beastman as his tiger eyes sized up the Dark Hero's armored figure. "The numbers of the Chosen are not yet ten. With the strength of Momon, an opportunity presents itself..."

Solina cleared her throat to interrupt the beastman, shooting a look at Vamir to silence him: "Let's start heading back to Oaknys. We can talk more about this after we return."

"Umu. I will be in your care then." agreed Ainz. He sheathed the twin greatswords back upon his back and followed as the group began to make their way back towards the city.

The trek through the forest proved relatively uneventful; the collective strength of the group a powerful deterrent against any would-be predator or monster. Soon, the eastern gate of Oaknys loomed into sight.

Solina pressed forward to mutter a few words into the ears of the human sentry stationed by the entry point. The two of them glanced back at Ainz, and the latter seemed to nod his head briefly before signaling for the portcullis to be raised. Solina entered through the now open archway, beckoning for the rest to follow.

As Ainz stepped into the city of Oaknys, his first impression was that it was on the smaller side, around half the size of the former Re-Estize Capital. The interior, however, had a lively ambience that reminded Ainz of the Imperial Capital of Arwintar.

Unlike the Empire, however, its streets bustled with the activity of a wide assortment of races. He could see demi-humans and humanoids mingling and interacting in all sorts of daily functions. A giant figure with the head of an elephant and the body of a giant passed through his line of sight, hauling a massive crate with ease upon its mighty tusks. A naga with a clipboard barked out stern orders to a ground of red-skinned lizardmen as they lugged a giant net packed with fish through the central road. Guards of all shapes and sizes patrolled the streets, occasionally stopping to defuse the odd commotion.

The natural co-existence of so many races elicited complicated thoughts in the Overlord's mind. While he had made great efforts to encourage the unity of races within his own kingdom, it would perhaps have taken another decade before such an organic harmony could have been achieved.

The sight before him reminded him of the Argland Council State-a nation his own forces had razed to the ground. In a way, the Council State was a parallel to his own vision for the Sorcerer Kingdom, a place where many races could live in prosperity under a single banner.

He did not regret the destruction of Argland; the Platinum Dragon Lord's machinations forced his hand. However, after finding himself sprung into a new beginning so many years into the future of the New World, he could not help but wonder about the path he had chosen to tread.

Ainz's brooding thoughts were interrupted as Solina turned to address him, her taut composure finally relaxing now that she was within the safety of city walls: " As you can see, Oaknys is currently very busy. Our city is responsible for hosting this year's Connelier, and everyone's been pushed to their limits to ensure that the preparations are impeccable. We only have two days left until the commencement of events."

The Overlord suppressed a chuckle as he realised that the woman had mistaken his heavy silence for speechlessness towards the diverse, booming productivity of the city. While the thriving heterogeneous population was a sentimental sight for Ainz, the scale of its operations was hardly impressive compared to the likes of the Sorcerer Kingdom.

"Ah, I was not aware that the famous tournament was so close at hand. The vibrance of the city is certainly a sight to behold. If I may ask: where are we headed now?" Ainz replied in what he hoped sounded like a sincere tone.

"We're heading towards the Martial Quarter," she explained, "a special area in which the Chosen reside and train in preparation for the tournament. It is also the place in which Aspirants test their mettle against one another in hopes to distinguish themselves and be selected."

Ainz tilted his head in curiosity as he listened to the human's words. "Do you all undergo training year-round? That sounds like quite a lot of time investment for a single tournament.."

Solina shook her head before patiently explaining. "While the quinquennial tournament of the past was created primarily as a means of easing inter-city tensions, the Connelier has evolved since then to encompass the handling of territory and resource distribution between the three Coalitions. The relative status of a city-state within a Coalition is also dependent on the quality and quantity of the representatives they send. I'm sure you understand the magnitude of such an event given the stakes involved."

Ainz gave a meaningful nod. If success in the Connelier was tied to both the political, economic standing of a Coalition and the individual prestige of a city, the cultivation of powerful individuals capable of securing favorable results would certainly be a top priority for each city-state.

It would also explain the lack of an adventurer's guild, as the presence of many representatives-in-training would ensure a sufficient bulk of available combatants to pit against any local threats that could emerge.

The five of them continued onwards into the city. Soon, they stopped before a gated fence, where a large crocodilian demi-human clad in a suit of plate stood guard. He raised a scale-studded brow as the group approached.

"Hm, back so soon? Who's the new fella?" he rumbled, his toothy maw snapping open and shut in an intimidating manner as he spoke.

"We had some undead trouble in the forest, he helped us out." explained Solina on the group's behalf, "Where's the chief? We need to see him for an...accommodation request."

The guard shrugged, his thick leathery skin sagging up to his huge neck as he replied: "Quartermaster Randell is at the Brave Council Hall right now. He probably won't be back for another hour or so."

Solina sighed and turned apologetically towards Ainz: "Sorry, Momon, but it seems we will have to get you settled in at a later hour. Would you mind coming with us to see the Oracle in the meantime? Your expertise on the Death Knight may be necessary for our report."

Ainz quickly agreed to the new change of plans. In truth, he had been interested in this "Oracle" ever since the individual was mentioned in passing.

Someone capable of sensing my arrival….

His four new acquaintances pressed on towards their destination. Ainz followed, his thoughts and expressions hidden beneath his black helm.

"The Elothris Coalition must be stopped! Their greed and recklessness will bring ruin to this Alliance!"

A loud bang echoed throughout the room as the large fist of a fuming orc slammed onto the round stone table.

A dozen figures of all shapes and sizes stirred in their seats upon the sudden outburst, but none immediately moved to protest the orc's angry words. A few of the seated individuals had expressions that burned with a similar outrage, but the majority's eyes were dull with the lightless color of resignation.

The human Quartermaster of the Military Quarter, Randell Forris, was in the latter party. The neurotic nature of his thin lips and unfocused gaze gave the impression of someone who had long grown accustomed to bleak circumstances.

"Calm down, Kazer." he finally said in a tired voice to the furious orc. "We cannot afford to act rashly when the Connelier is just around the corner."

Kazer scowled at Randell's words, the large tusks beneath his boar-like snout jutting out even further as the corners of his mouth twisted in disdain.

"The Elothris Coalition has been expanding their territorial holdings with impunity. All of the forces we've sent to prematurely halt their encroachment have disappeared without a trace. Not to mention their forays into the forbidden lands; some of the centaur tribes of the Eastern Plains have been subjugated and now provide tribute to their new masters."

"If left unchecked, their ambition will draw the attention of the Trolls and the Minotaurs of the Far East. Those fools still think that Karnassus deserves to rule over the City-State Alliance-there is no telling how far they will go. Their actions already prove that they no longer respect the tradition of the tournaments. We must take decisive action."

Another voice rang out from right across Randell's position at the round table.

"We don't have enough information. For the past several decades, the Elothris Coalition has demonstrated an almost impenetrable network of counter-intelligence. The source of their uncanny ability to leave no survivors and the reason behind the efficiency of their lightning-fast assaults are completely unknown to us."

The speaker was an elven woman draped in a mottled green cloak. Randell recognised her as the head of the Venerian Ranger Corps: Namys Xillen. Her dark green eyes glinted with a razor sharp acuity as she spoke.

"What type of action would we even take?" she continued, "The three Coalitions exist for a reason. If we move against the Elothris Coalition, the Kabelia Coalition will almost certainly be waiting to pounce in the aftermath of our struggle. We teeter upon a delicate balance of power, and we have kept bloodshed to the minimum through the Connelier. To deviate from our system of non-confrontation would be to shatter our peace and invite chaos into this land."

Randell nodded his head. "Namys is right, counter-aggression is not a feasible option for us right now. I hear your concerns, I do, but let us wait until after the Connelier is over. The preparations for the tournament are too important to be disrupted."

Kazer sat back in his seat, but the fierce conviction in his eyes did not falter upon the harsh reality of Namys and Randell's words.

"There is...one final option." Kazer responded after a moments' pause, his voice cold and grim. "The Cult's hand of assistance remains outstretched. If it is a question of letting the Elothris Coalition walk all over us and cooperating with them..."

Several members of the council recoiled in naked disgust upon the Bafolk's suggestion.

"Preposterous." hissed a snakeman seated near him. "We barely know anything about this...Deathless. It is foolish to flirt with powers we do not yet understand."

"It is even more foolish to do nothing." countered Kazer, his voice like iron. "I will respect the city of Oaknys by waiting until after the Connelier to make my decision. However, If the Elothris Coalition continues with their insolence...as Grand Chieftain of New Orcneas, I will take matters into my own hands."

Within a moss-filled grotto on the outskirts of the city, the Oracle of Oaknys meditated upon a podium of coiled branches.

Her appearance resembled that of an anthropomorphic sheep, with two small bulbs of horn jutting out atop her wool-covered head. The being's short, squat humanoid body was wrapped in a piece of brown cloth too large for her size, the extra length of fabric pooling in a makeshift tarp around her body.

Upon the cavern ceiling far above her, twinkling orbs of light swam in the air like sentient stars. They bathed the cavern in a magical luminescence, and under their mystical glow, the Oracle listened to the countless whispers emanating from the mysterious lights.

The lights were the ancient Wisps of Oaknys, ethereal spirits that had watched over the surrounding lands for millenia. Normally, the average humanoid or demihuman would not be able to make sense of their "words," hearing naught but an unintelligible buzzing.

But the Oracle was no average being. Within her blood manifested a unique talent, one that allowed her to tap into the infinite whispers of the Wisps. Occasionally, she would glean slivers of knowledge, premonitions of events yet to pass. They would tell her of disturbances in the woods and the rivers, and she would communicate their worries to the city-dwellers, allowing them to take care of any potential regional threats before things spiralled out of hand.

Over time, this relationship became a custom within the city of Oaknys, and the mouthpiece of the Wisps had since occupied an invaluable position within the city. She had long forgotten her original name. Now, she was simply the Oracle.

She opened her eyes, revealing a pair of pupils that shone like reflective mirrors. The corners of her mouth creased down into a slight frown as she considered what had happened that morning.

The wisps had exploded with a fervent energy, the volume of their whispers escalating to a deafening peak. The sound was so unbearable that the Oracle had been forced to cover her pointed ears. Furthermore, the words of the Wisps changed into something completely incoherent, their meaning unintelligible even to the Oracle.

The extreme noise eventually subsided, and the sound and coherency of the Wisps eventually reverted back to something that more resembled what the Oracle was used to. However, something was still amiss.

The whispers grew dark and secretive, weaving words that sounded more like cryptic riddles than the vibrant wisdom the Oracle so dearly relied on.

In spite of this, the Oracle managed to identify a general premise from their veiled message: a Great Evil had descended upon the forested hills not far from Oaknys.

And so she sought the assistance of the Military Quarter. A group of Chosen were dispatched to investigate the site of the unholy presence that had so disturbed the serenity of the Wisps.

It should be a matter of time before they return….

The Oracle's eyes locked onto a hole on the cave wall some distance away from her, which led to a pathway through which her visitors could enter into her natural abode.

She waited and waited, until finally, the silhouettes of the team of four that had headed out on their quest that morning loomed into sight.

But that was not all. Her eyes squinted to confirm a fifth figure following behind them, an imposing presence sheathed in cold, black steel.

The group's leader-a human female-came before her and began to speak:

"Greetings again, Esteemed Oracle. We have returned from our investigations. A powerful undead creature known as a Death Knight was encountered around the location you indicated to us this morning. The monster has been neutralised with the help of our new acquaintance, Momon."

The human woman gestured towards the black armored individual beside her.

The Oracle nodded her head to express that she had heeded the human's words, but did not immediately respond.

Death Knight.

The Oracle had heard the Wisps speak of such a monster before. From what she knew, it was an undead being of great power, one that appeared every so often in this world to wreak pain and suffering to all in its vicinity.

Perhaps that was the presence the Wisps had sensed in the forest? The location and timing made sense, yet the Oracle could not help but wonder if such a monster alone sufficed to shock the spirits into such harrowed behavior.

Suddenly, her ears twitched as she suddenly realised that something was terribly wrong.

The Oracle gazed up to stare at the lights above, at the spirits she had dedicated her life to representing. The Wisps had stopped moving, and their lights had dimmed so much that they were now almost invisible to the naked eye. But most alarming of all…

Their whispers had ceased completely.

A dreadful silence hung about the grotto, something that the Oracle had never once encountered in her long life of interacting with the Wisps.

Their whispers were her Truth, a ceaseless existence that knew no pause or rest.

But for whatever reason, they had stopped.

She gazed at the five of her visitors. None of them seemed to have noticed or cared; all they probably felt was the absence of the usual buzzing and the dimming of the light, not knowing the significance behind the phenomena.

The Oracle's glassy eyes hovered over the newcomer, Momon, in particular. From head to toe, not a single inch of flesh was visible, his body completely covered with plate armor as dark as the night.

She tried to peer through his visor to glimpse whatever lay beneath, but all she could see was a pitch darkness.

If the Death Knight was so powerful, surely the one who had assisted in its defeat was also an individual of great power? And yet, she could sense nothing from the armored warrior, as if that mysterious suit of plate consumed any and all attempts to scrutinise its wearer.

A morbid curiosity gripped the Oracle, and she felt the mounting urge to ask "Momon" to reveal his face and background.

However, just as she was about to phrase her request, she sensed a faint presence tugging at her mentally from above. She looked up to see the light of one of the wisps flaring again in full radiance. This time, however, it shimmered with a color she had never seen them use before: an eerie light of pure crimson. As she stared at the light, an extreme sense of danger washed over her, and she hurriedly swallowed the previous words that were on the verge of leaving her lips.

"I see. That will be all for now." the Oracle replied instead, doing her best to maintain a calm composure. "You may leave to inform the Quartermaster that the threat has been neutralised. I will call upon your people again if another situation emerges."

The group of five bowed before heading back out of the grotto. However, just as the imposing silhouette of Momon reached the mouth of the cave, the Oracle could see him pause for a brief moment to look back behind his shoulder.

A mysterious glint of red flashed for a fraction of a second from the side of the warrior's helm, before he too disappeared into the distance.

The Oracle continued to sit quietly in the grotto. After several seconds, the Wisps finally stirred from their seeming stupor to swim about the air once more, their lights flickering back to their full, luminescent bloom.

And yet, their voices still did not return. The suffocating silence continued.

The Oracle finally could not wait any longer. She raised her head and looked up at the cavern ceiling, reaching out with both her hands in a gesture of utmost respect as she asked: "O' Great Wisps of Old, I have heeded your warning, but I know not what it entails. Why do you remain quiet? What lies beneath that armored guise?"

Her question was met with no immediate response. The eerily quiet atmosphere stretched on, until finally, a single voice spoke to the Oracle from above.

Seven words echoed in the Oracle's mind, words that would be carved into her memory for the rest of her life.

"Gaze not upon the face of Death."