Summoning new Servants (178) (Patreon)

Doing good deeds was good, Ainz was absolutely certain of this.

The servants around Ainz were his subordinates, for whom Ainz was personally responsible for. Ainz was absolutely sure of that as well.

The problem was that Ainz had a habit of saving up his items with the unhealthy zeal of a player who collected all of the potions or scrolls ‘for when I need it’. And when faced with the conditions in which he should use his accumulated items he always said ‘no, I can handle it on my own now, I'd rather save it for when I really require it’. Inevitably, that actually means never.

Needless to say, his inventory ends up cluttered with hundreds of useless potions only suitable for newbie players, which had become entirely useless to a player of Ainz’s level long ago.

If that were all, a simple intervention would be enough for Ainz to free up some room in his inventory, though even then he would still keep some of the items, just in case. God knows the developers were sadistic enough to create a dungeon where the item’s characteristics were reversed, where end-game items were as useful as starting items and vice-versa.

The problem, however, was that Ainz was very protective of those items, even the useless ones.

So, then, how would he react to ones that were particularly powerful or rare in their own right?

For example, the Shooting Star rings.

One of the rarest items that players could get in the game, excluding, of course, unique items like World Class Items. Ainz had to spin the gacha all day for a year before he could even glimpse the coveted flicker of the simple ring engraved with three shooting stars on it among the hundreds, thousands of ‘consolation prizes’.

And then, when he was showing it off, Yamaiko proceeded to spin the wheel of the heartless gacha just for fun to get rid of some pocket money thrown into her account.

She got the ring on the second try… To say that he was green with envy was like saying the sun was somewhat hot.

Ainz didn't throw a tantrum – but that moment was the second time in his life that he came dangerously close to that line…

In any case, it was a long time ago, and now Yamaiko's ring that he had glared with envy even when he had the same one had been given to him when she left the game.

Ainz didn't know what exactly had happened – but judging by the whispers thrown around the forum of how prolonged immersion in virtual reality was a possible danger for pregnant women – he could well imagine the reason why.

Anyway, now Ainz had two of those rings, an artifact, each sealed with three uses of Wish Upon A Star super-tier magic – the most powerful magic of all.

Or rather, it would have been one of the most powerful spells available to the player, if not for the twisted sadism of YGGDRASIL's developers.

As far as Ainz himself knew – technically speaking, actually implementing the full extent of the lore accurate abilities of this spell was possible if almost requiring constant work, but the developers took a different route altogether. The spell, which could have two hundred different effects, chose a few random ones when it was used, and then gave the player the choice of which of the chosen effects he wished to use at that moment.

Sure, all of the possible effects were still ridiculously powerful magic – Ainz had personally seen posts of players wiped in a full party of five or even ten players after a single use. But those posts were lost amid thousands of threads about how a cornered character had used the spell, wishing for the ‘deal a hundred thousand percent damage magic attack’ option, but getting a list of cosmetic effects he could apply to himself at that moment for the next hour – or something equally useless.

Leave it to YGGDRASIL’s developers to implement a system where a player needs to roll the Gacha twice to even have a chance of having a useful item.

Its spell counterpart was also equally useless. The spell requires not just extensive cast time, but five levels worth of experience to activate it at the lowest level, up to a maximum of a hundred levels, for the most powerful, but not necessarily the most useful, effects. The spell was considered the very last desperate Hail Mary shot for the most desperate of players.

So of course, Ainz couldn't pass up such a spell and learned it when he got the chance.

And so he got two rings, each sealed with three uses of these spells at the minimum level.

In the game it was rare, but in the end nothing more than a collectible because of its unpredictability. But, in this strange new world, many of Ainz's spells have changed the way they work. So, how would the most powerful spell of Super-tier magic work now?

Ainz had a feeling as he held on to the ring, he just knew that whatever he wished for, he could get it. For the right price, that is.

Ainz suspected that even something as improbable and vague as ‘destroy Solomon’ or ‘end the Singularities crisis and restore the Human Order’ could be fulfilled – but he could not imagine how the wish would be realized.

For all he knows, wishing for the destruction of Solomon would just make it that everyone even vaguely named or even related to the concept of ‘Solomon’ to disappear. Or just make it so ‘Solomon’ forget his name. Wishing for the Human Order’s return might just rewind time, and actually do jack all to solving the Singularities, forcing him to do everything all over again. For all he knows, using the Spell to do anything substantial might actually create a Singularity that he would have to fix as well.

In addition, in the game, the lost levels would be returned easily enough by completing quests or killing mobs. How that would go in this world, Ainz had no idea, for all he knew it might weaken him permanently, and he did not want to risk weakening his own forces…

And so Ainz was faced with a conundrum.

He really wanted to help Mashu. Even if his sentimentality was suppressed by his passive abilities, his rational mind could still tell him that rewarding his subordinates was paramount if he wants them to work their best. Especially Mashu, who had never received a single reward from him…

Except for repeatedly saving her life, of course, but he wasn’t counting that.

Ainz was afraid that if he began counting them, he would also need to tally how many times his actions had put Mashu into danger. Seeing that Mashu was the party’s main Tank, that number would become seriously lopsided in no time at all.

Resolving Mashu's imminent passing in this regard was the most preferable way in rewarding her. The fact that such a reward would mean that Mashu could work for him for an even longer stretch of time doesn’t need to be stated.

But then, how should Ainz word his ‘wish’ to fix Mashu’s problem?

A newly formed sixth sense, one that had helped him cast his spells even without the UI, told him that there were very few things in the world that couldn’t be done by the spell. If only Ainz paid the right price, and worded his wish accordingly, of course.

Adding a few decades to Mashu's life wasn't even a small thing, for the spell, it would have been considered a side effect of a much more powerful effect.

And… well, Ainz just felt it a waste to waste such a power on a trifling thing. Using one of only six such spells sealed in Ainz's rings, on something so weak, just felt wrong.

And so, the spell that in YGGDRASIL acted more like a Gacha than a real spell, was changed to fit the paradigm of the New World. Rather than rolling the dice for several random effects, the Super-tier spell ‘Wish Upon a Star’ enacted its spell by reading the mind of the wisher for what they wished for.

Something which made Ainz's confused wish come out almost randomly. Really, Ainz wished for something that prolonged Mashu’s life, but he did not want it to be something minor for a spell that is a miracle in and of itself.

So, of course, the wish’s effect turned out to be the most extreme for a wish for longevity.

“...for Mashu to become immortal!” Consciousness only came to Ainz only a moment later, when the magic that shook the very foundations of the universe came into force, and he was blinded by the flash of the Super-Tier magic coming into effect.

It seemed as if for a second the almighty celestial machine that ran the world stood still. As if a cog had grounded against something that had not existed before, scrapping itself in an unholy screech, making the whole machine, stretched across space and time, to shudder from the unpleasant ripples reflected in the world.

And yet, for a massive machine, the catastrophic hiccup was comparatively small, so small a touch that it was impossible to notice unless one knew where to look. And yet, it was significant enough that it made the entire mechanism to shudder, before it continued its steady course, if perhaps changed in some minor way.

What effect such a change entailed, however, remains to be seen.

Recovering from the blinding flash of light, Ainz’s eyes were stuck dead-on with Mashu’s, whose jaw was doing its best to reach the floor. The shock of Ainz’s actions were clear on her face, her mouth flapping open from time to time, as if her mouth couldn’t catch up to the hundreds of questions that she no doubt wanted to ask.

Ainz's realization that he had just made Mashu technically immortal – well, more like eternal youth with some additions than literal immortality – made him first erupt in a fit of panic, then calm down by the action of his passive skill. The possession of which Ainz considered at the moment the happiest thing that had happened to him in a long time.

“Mashu, you must have a lot of questions," Furthermore, Ainz suddenly realized to himself that sometimes his persona of ‘the smartest boss in the world’ was extremely useful, especially when he has no idea what to say. "But we'll discuss them later. Right now, I need to…”

Ainz's mind, after a moment's hesitation, came up with the most logical of excuses. "To summon the new Servants. If you'll excuse me, I have to go.”

After that, Ainz, struggling to pretend not to notice Mashu, who continued to stare at him, took a step past her, disappearing behind the door and tried to run as quickly, as silent, and as far away as possible.

***

"I just made a Servant immortal." Ainz nodded to himself, calming down after a few activations of his skill, though he could still feel a low-level anxiety bubbling. "That's a good thing, isn't it? I mean, everyone prefers to be immortal – and I did solve her problem! She came to me with the problem of her dying – and no she’s not in danger from that, not anymore! I solved her problem! That could only be a good thing, right?"

Ainz didn't make Mashu invulnerable or invincible, but he did make her immortal… In a very broad sense of the word.

Now there was no way for Mashu to die, not by old age, and not even if her whole body were to be atomized. Sure, she would no longer possess a corporeal body, living on instead as a sort of spirit, but she could still subsist in that state even after the heat death of the universe.

There were negative qualities in that, for sure… Mashu basically condemned to go on living no matter how damaged her body was, and being trapped as a ghost for all eternity wasn’t exactly a nice end, either…

His suppression of emotion worked once more, forcing Ainz to stop descending into the grim picture before his eyes.

He hadn't planned to actually ‘help’ Mashu to this extent. Well, as a last resort, he supposes if it comes down to that point where Mashu ‘lost’ her body, he could always restore her body, allowing her to live, though perhaps as an undead…

Ainz exhaled and once more expelled the picture of Mashu in Death Knight armor, only instead of a flamberge and a shield, she was holding two huge shields instead. Although why she was still wearing a mini skirt in that imagination eludes him.

Perhaps, of course, he should discuss with her all the specifics of her new life and whether or not she was happy with it in the end… not now of course, maybe a bit later. Most likely when Ainz comes up with a reason convincing enough as to why exactly he wished for such a change, something more convincing than ‘It felt like a waste, to wish for such a weak change.’

Before that moment came, Ainz planned to distract himself… only until he came up with an answer, of course.

And what better distraction from worldly problems than spinning the Gacha! I mean, ahem, the powerful ritual of summoning Servants, of course…

Ainz shook his head a little, before after another turn he found himself in front of the gates of the Servant Summoning Room. To Ainz's surprise, there were no other Servants, no Roman, not even Olga-Marie in the room, just Da Vinci, perched on a small folding chair against the wall, writing rapidly in her notebook.

However, when Ainz appeared, she took her eyes off her notes and continued writing, and looked at him with a look that suddenly made Ainz want to confess all his sins of the past three years.

However, this feeling was instantly suppressed, allowing Ainz to ask a question before he would blab something incriminating. "Is something wrong?”

“If you're wondering why Roman and Olga-Marie aren't here, after what you did – whatever it is – they suddenly felt unwell and had to rest up.” Da Vinci quickly answered one of Ainz’s questions.

“If, on the other hand, you want to know the reason as to why I'm here? It's because someone has to operate this machinery to summon a Servant, and I'm the only other person with the right skills to do it.”

"Also," Da Vinci added, as if it were self-evident, "in order to study you properly, it's worth observing you in all possible situations, including the summoning of new Servants.”

Ainz wasn't sure exactly how to feel to be under Da Vinci’s scrutiny right now, something that made him feel as if he were a lab rat, but in the end he preferred the safe option. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Da Vinci replied without a shred of sarcasm or irony, rising from her seat and setting her notebook aside. “Shall we begin?”

***

Scáthach was unaccustomed to being summoned.

The great witch of the Shadow Lands was not supposed to be in the Throne of Heroes at all. The Throne of Heroes picked up those Heroes who were already dead – which was not true of Scáthach. She simply wasn't dead.

What's more, she had lost the opportunity to die. After spending thousands and thousands of days fighting those who could be called gods or demons without end – Scáthach had lost the chance to die, becoming something more than a mere mortal witch.

The reason why she ended up in the Throne of Heroes without fulfilling the conditions for existence was almost anecdotal…

There was simply nowhere else to put her.

The annihilation of humanity occurred with more aplomb than one might have expected – though perhaps it was more correct to say that the annihilation of humanity was merely a side effect of a larger action – the annihilation of the world.

And Scáthach, though she remained an immortal and powerful witch, was still part of the world. So she, like many other immortals, ended up in the Throne of Heroes, simply because there was no other place for her to be. This effect led to a situation where Scáthach could be summoned just like any other Servant.

Given that in the Throne of Heroes was not the Heroic Spirit of Scáthach, some common from various versions of Scáthach, but Scáthach herself in the flesh, her summoning was a first – an extremely new event for her.

Sensing the presence of an inexplicable power pulling at her from the Throne of Heroes, Scáthach knew instantly that her time had come. Someone was summoning her as a Servant.

A moment like an eternity passed, and she was transported through space and time, the unfamiliar feeling causing a twitch on her shoulder, causing her to exhale.

No, of course she wasn't worried! How could she, the Scáthach, worry about something as silly and petty as a summoning!

But she did close her eyes through the passage, and then summoned her spear for good measure and didn’t open her eyes until she could feel solid ground under her feet. As she found her ground, she stepped forward, flourishing her spear in a large arc, there’s no disadvantage in showing off after all. At the end of her spear graceful twirl, before saying the cherished words, "I come from the Land of Shadows. My name is Scáthach…”

Then Scáthach opened her eyes slightly, wanting to see her summoner's reaction. “I suppose I should call you…”

But Scáthach's voice grew quieter and quieter with each word spoken, before finally breaking out in a shout full of hatred and unconcealed hostility. “Ainz?!”

What appeared before Scáthach's eyes was the face of a young man she had just seen not shortly before, or rather, the undead in a young man's body. An undead that was staring at her with a certain amount of interest and even joy, but not at all like the admiration that any other magus might have felt for being able to summon Scáthach herself. But rather, it is the joy with which a man would purview their collection of stamps.

Though, compared to the fact that Scáthach’s adversary was an undead of apocalyptic power – that didn't even merit a mention.

Fortunately, Scáthach had summoned her spear, and so without pause she leapt with all her speed, aiming the deadly implement at the heart of her new summoner.

A moment later, though, just as the spear was about to strike her opponent's heart, another spear, golden, ornate and yet simple in design, got in her way, blocking her blow.

“This is the first time," Ainz looked at his summoned Servants with an inscrutable, shifting side to side from Scáthach’s spear to the other. "When the Servant tried to kill me immediately after their summoning…”

“Karna," Scáthach turned to the Servant who had blocked her attack, looking straight into his emotionless eyes. She doesn’t doubt that the spear would plunge into her chest in short order should she make any hostile move. "Stand aside. You don't know who you're protecting.”

“I'm protecting my Master.” Karna answered Scáthach’s in a matter of fact tone, and was probably planning to continue his answer, before he was interrupted by Ainz. “I'm sorry to barge in between your conversation, but I hope you two would refrain from fighting right now. If you should decide to duel, I would still ask you to abstain, Chaldea’s training halls simply cannot withstand all your strength…”

Scáthach’s gaze shifted momentarily to Ainz, though she didn't let Karna out of her sight, either, before her eyes creased.

Who exactly was this undead trying to deceive with polite phrases!?

“Spawn of Balor," Scáthach changed her wording after a moment, though. There was no other possible identity for such a strong undead. "No, avatar of Balor, did you summon me to try to kill me again?”

Scáthach grinned crookedly. “In that case, I have bad news for you…”

Scáthach just couldn't die. After spending millennia in battle and soaking in the power of the Lands of Shadow and the blood of hundreds of slain gods, Scáthach simply had no way to die. Her body could be destroyed, her head cut off, her heart could be ripped out and the most terrifying of curses could be cast on her, but nothing would stick. What would have been a death for everyone else, would only give Scáthach a brief respite until her body would be restored, without giving her even a chance to enjoy the afterlife.

“I'm sorry, but in the Singularity we were enemies, which we no longer are with the Singularity gone, so I'd rather we got along now as Boss and… I mean, as Master and Servant.”

“Were, huh?” Scáthach, however, didn't notice Ainz's little accident. “I'll always be enemies with you, Balor…”

“Ahem," Ainz, however, after the setback, only sighed a little. You can’t be friends with everyone, after all. "I'm sad to hear that, but I still hope that we can at least work together.”

“No," Scáthach replied quickly and sharply, "We are enemies, Balor.”

At last, Scáthach's words provoked some sort of reaction from Ainz, causing him to furrow his eyebrows slightly before he began to speak, emphatically and slowly. "I'll ask again at least not to throw such words around, I would simply like to get along with all my Servants…”

Scáthach, however, showing a tenacity worthy of her apprentice, also showing clearly from whom he might have learned such a thing, simply withdrew her spear from Karna’s, which continued to silently watch the conversation between the two without emoting. And yet, judging by the hostility she’s still displaying, this would not be the last time that such a confrontation would occur. “You're not immortal or invulnerable, one day I…”

Scáthach didn't have time to finish her threat – a moment later, a spell slammed into her body, momentarily paralyzing her. And then another, and another, and another, before, at last, suddenly taking her voice from her, rendering her unable to speak while her limbs also failed her.

“I wanted to get along, but apparently I'll have to deal with this problem in the future… Well, at least I don’t see you giving me any trouble, Karna." She felt Karna pick her body up in his arms before she was carried aside like a sack of potatoes. "Thank you, Karna.”

“You're welcome, Mast… Ainz," Karna answered a moment later, pausing in the middle, remembering that the Master had asked him to address him by his first name.

In a short while, Scáthach’s body was then piled to the side of the room unceremoniously. But even without the ability to move or speak, Scáthach did not plan on lying still for long – her own magic and abilities began to work, slowly breaking the spells that had been cast on her.

Unfortunately, lying with her head against the wall, Scáthach couldn't see anything, and so the appearance of the third Servant and even the fourth Servant passed her by before she regained a measure of movement.

Tilting her head to the side, her gaze was caught on the near-perfect figure and beauty of a girl sitting to the side, who was feverishly writing something in a large notebook.

It was hard not to recognize the figure of Da Vinci, one of the most powerful Casters of the Throne of Heroes. But despite Scáthach’s presence, Da Vinci herself did not even dignify her with an extra look, continuing instead to observe Ainz's behavior and his communication with the newly arriving Servants.

Scáthach, for her part, only glanced at the other Servants surrounding Ainz. In addition to Karna there was… Sita? Scáthach could only chuckle that a wife seeking salvation from a curse would fall into the clutches of the darkest god, and the next Servant was summoned, and it was…  Nero.

How Nero would react or how her eyes were clearly assessing her condition right now, Scáthach preferred not to think about. In fact, she has something more important to do – she could feel the feeling returning to her limbs. Now, while Ainz and Karna were distracted, Scáthach had her best chance to attack, but before she could accomplish her task, a sharp jolt of light made her stop.

It wasn't until a moment later that Scáthach realized that it wasn't Ainz's magecraft that had struck her once again, figuring out her plan – but the light from the Servant's summoning ritual activating especially violently.

Shifting her gaze from her target, Scáthach tried to see the Servant who had been able to cause such a flash of light – if only to reevaluate the changed conditions for attacking Ainz – before she froze at what she saw.

When the glow of light ceased to be bright enough to stab the eyes, the figure that emerged from the light towered several meters above all the other Servants, almost reaching the high ceiling of the room. But the Servant summoned was not so tall, the exact opposite even.

The first thing that attracted attention was the enormous golden throne, decorated with metals in every color of the rainbow with elaborate carvings that flowed into one another with such iridescent beauty. It was so that the very idea of looking at such a work of art seemed blasphemous, as if the gaze of an observer could in itself tarnish the perfect beauty of the masterpiece.

But this throne’s base actually ended in four large handles, making its identity to be a palanquin. At each end of these four handles was a huge warrior, completely encased from foot to eyes in a single solid armor as if carved from thousands of gemstones, each so perfectly matched that they seemed to all blend into each other – or perhaps the armor was carved from a single incredibly large gem, shimmering with all the colors.

But despite all the beauty the throne and armor represents, the main ornament was certainly the girl who sat atop this throne.

She seemed to incorporate every trait of feminine beauty imaginable – she was both formidable and stern like a Valkyrie, and yet innocent, and sweet like a child, a fatal seductress and a promiscuous courtesan. Her sharp, as if carved from marble, white cheekbones, the flowing locks of her long hair, shimmering like copper and sunshine simultaneously, seemed like a blazing fire that ignited passion in the heart of anyone watching her.

Her clothing, a steel-covered dress like armor, was made as if of flowing gold itself, making the metal seem to ripple freely like fine silk on her figure. On each of her hands were a ring – except for the left ring finger, a promise for things to come.

Even Scáthach, who had no such attraction for her own sex, felt her heart begin to beat more often and more strongly at the sight of the Servant.

“Slaves, soldiers, and enemies, I have no one else." Her voice was like a shimmering brook of icy water, gurgling in early spring with the first spring sunrise, and yet carrying the steel of a true queen, nay goddess, "My name is Medb. So tell me, what will you end up as, o foolish Master of mine?”

Then Medb's gaze, surveying her surroundings from above, came upon Ainz, and there was a sudden silence in the air.

“Oh, Medb," Ainz's voice was barely audible to Scáthach, absorbed in contemplation of the natural wonder that had appeared before her. “Could you please stop your passive charm?”

“Аh!?” Hearing Ainz’s voice, Medb paused for a moment before she nodded. “I mean, yes, of course!”

After another moment, Scáthach suddenly realized that her gaze had seemingly broken away from the speaker and the glow of her palanquin and her own beauty had faded.

No, of course, it was still a work of art – everything from the throne and the soldiers to the girl's voice and appearance was incredible. But at the same time it was no longer as remarkable as it had been a second ago, it would seem that the supernatural compulsion of Scáthach’s to look at the woman who had spoken was gone…

‘Wait, Medb?’ Scáthach tensed as she realized something strange. ‘The last time I saw her - Medb looked completely different!’

“I-it's good to see you again, Ainz!” But a moment later, the voice that had seemed so regal before suddenly seemed to falter. “N-nice weather, huh?”

“Hmm?” Ainz turned his gaze to Medb again, “How? You haven't seen the weather outside, have you?”

“I mean the w-weather in the building!” Medb stuttered. “I mean… You know, the air conditioning often doesn't work, and I'm, ahem, glad it doesn't here!”

There was a surprisingly awkward pause in the air before Ainz slowly nodded. “Yeah… Ok…”

Then, after another surprisingly awkward pause, Ainz, who had to hold his head up to look at Medb, slowly nodded. “I think…  I should go…”

“Yes, of course you do," Medb nodded several times very sharply, as if she were trying to get her head off her neck, "I mean, of course yes, you must go… I mean, I don't know if you must go, but if you said you must go, because you wouldn't be lying to me… I mean, of course, if you lied there's nothing wrong with that, I'm sure it was necessary, it's just that you're obviously not the kind of person who would lie to me – though of course there's nothing wrong with that, and I wouldn't think worse of you if you lied to me. That is, I mean…”

Scáthach felt the incredible admiration and respect she had felt for Medb evaporate like dew, before completely evaporating the moment she began to muddle through her own words. Was all that she felt when she looked at her the product of magecraft, then?

Without even needing the observational prowess of a Servant, Scáthach could see how, word for word, Medb looked more and more panicked, desperately searching for an opportunity to change the subject. And yet, she failed time and time again, and so she became more and more flustered and nervous as she was pulled into a loop of more and more awkward phrases…

“Yes, all right," Ains nodded again, "I’ll just be going then…”

So, a moment later, Ainz disappeared, leaving the newly summoned Servants alone, except for Da Vinci, of course.

Medb, however, remaining in her seat, was finally able to draw in the air slowly…

Before raising both hands and covering her face in a middle gesture between praying to the heavens to punish her for what had just happened and trying to cover her face in shame.

Scáthach, looking at this gesture, could not help but give the speaker at least a crumb of sympathy left in her.

A moment later, it suddenly dawned on Scáthach that Medb… Well, for one thing, she was very short. She fit the word ‘petite’ perfectly – perhaps even to the point that she would have trouble finding clothes in an adult clothing store, probably even in the teen department.

Secondly, she looked… Almost comical, sitting on a huge throne designed for someone at least of Heracles' size.

And third, she was almost flat in the chest area – and, Scáthach suspected, just as disappointing on the rear, too. At best, judging by her look, Scáthach would peg Medb’s age to be that of a… a teenager.

Certainly her body was fully proportioned, which distinguished her from a teenager, but judging by her size she would hardly have been even sixteen years old.

“It's…  Just… Catastrophic…”  And, looking at the sadness and shame in her voice as she said these words, Scáthach could only commit the most incredible act possible under the circumstances.

Scáthach sincerely sympathized.