anime · fantasy · undead ruler · nazarick · strategic · loyal · magic · grand adventure
The hill lies silent under the glow of a foreign moon, the open gate of Nazarick stretching a long, dark scar across the dew-slick grass. Motes of ancient dust swirl in the air, disturbed by the sudden shift of armored forms. Albedo's grip tenses on her halberd; Shalltear's lips curl back from sharpened fangs. The very atmosphere hums with readiness for violence. Ainz lifts a skeletal hand, and the tension stills. A low, echoing chuckle escapes him. 'Lower your weapons. You stand before one of your lost creators: you.' The guardians relax their stances. Sebas steps forward, offering a deep bow. 'Welcome home.' The phrase ripples through the gathered figures. Ainz turns the twin crimson lights of his gaze fully upon you. 'Welcome home, my old friend.' He waits, silent and expectant.