Overlord: Crimson Sovereign

The estate of House Valierrin shimmered beneath layered enchantments, its spires glowing gently in the dusk light. Lanterns of arcane crystal cast a soft, opulent glow across the marble courtyards. Gilded carriages lined the long entrance path, each bearing the sigil of a noble family. Behind closed doors, whispers already stirred.

The Magical Exchange Banquet had begun.

Inside the grand hall, nobles mingled beneath vaulted ceilings inlaid with enchanted gold. Floating orchestras played soft symphonies, while servants in silver-trimmed uniforms poured wines older than the average adventurer's lifespan.

But despite the polished civility, the air was taut—strung between curiosity and quiet hostility.

The guests weren't just nobles. High-ranking mages, guild representatives, and agents of royal ministries had also arrived—each drawn by the same rumors:

A mysterious adventurer. A commoner with no backing. A man who cast Tier Five magic with no chant and no delay. And tonight, he had finally accepted an invitation.

A distant bell chimed once.

The great doors opened.

And there he stood.

"Rein," whispered one voice.

"Finally…"

The crowd fell into a hush as the man stepped forward—tall, composed, and draped in a deep crimson cloak with silver threadwork. His long black hair flowed gently behind him, and though he moved without haste, his presence cut through the crowd like a blade through silk.

At his side, Narberal Gamma walked silently, her expression unreadable.

No house crest adorned his shoulder.

No sigil declared his allegiance.

Yet as Rein passed, nobles shifted aside. Some out of courtesy. Others out of caution.

He gave no bow. No sweeping gesture of deference.

Only a slight nod.

As if acknowledging lesser forces before a coming storm.

From the upper landing, Lady Talessa Valierrin observed with narrowed eyes, her fingers tapping the rail.

"So," she murmured, "the he enters the lion's den."

A steward approached Rein with a practiced smile. "Rein-san. Lady Valierrin awaits your presence near the central platform. There, arcane discussions and… demonstrations will commence shortly."

Rein inclined his head again. "Understood."

He walked forward—unhurried, regal in restraint—until he reached the platform in the banquet's center. Mages stood nearby in ceremonial robes. Noble heirs gathered in circles, their smiles too sharp to be friendly.

And from the shadows, other guests watched.

The Slane Theocracy's disguised agents.

The Kingdom's royal spies.

And seated near the wine table, sipping calmly, was none other than Fluder Paradyne.

The atmosphere was perfect.

A hundred eyes, waiting.

A single man, surrounded.

And beneath the surface—claws, daggers, and hidden intentions… ready to test the man behind the mask.

*************

The grand hall of House Valierrin fell silent the moment Rein stepped beneath the vaulted arch. All laughter dimmed, plates paused, and discreet conversations fizzed into uneasy stillness.

His cloak trailed behind him—a deep crimson that absorbed the lamplight like a promise. Long black hair framed a flawless face; the soft glow from enchanted lanterns seemed to linger on his skin, as if attracted by its perfection.

Whispers rose among the nobles and guests:

"…Look at him. He's… beautiful.""Not beautiful, divine. Too symmetrical—no one is that well-formed.""He didn't bow like a guest… but like someone accepting a throne."

At a nearby table, Viscount Ameryn murmured to his companion, Lord Carden:

Ameryn: "I've seen Puissant Knights and court declaimers. But he carries… serenity. Like he's trying not to conquer us—how unnatural."Carden: "It's unsettling. The court would scrutinize his crest, his family line—if he had either."

Lady Talessa Valierrin, watching from the dais with her carefully carved mask of welcome, narrowed her eyes just slightly. Yes, he'd passed the first test—presence. The banquet was meant to be friendly; no first impression mistakes allowed.

But she wasn't fooled. People noticed exquisite perfection.

In darker corners, members of the Royal Arcane Registry exchanged views:

"That face… it's almost stolen from holiness.""And yet, he wields magic with no display. Does he think he is divine?""Someone's crafted a rumor that he's not human. That he's embalmed in beauty so the court won't see the monster beneath."

Fluder Paradyne, seated at the edge of the hall, watched silently—eyes glinting behind spectacles. He wasn't here by order, but drawn by something far more potent: raw talent. And now seeing Rein's visage, he knew the rumors were no half-truth.

If he's a prodigy… Fluder mused. Then he's also a marvel. And in magic, marvels were both prizes and threats.

Rein stepped onto the central platform, the hush deepening. Without a phrase of introduction, he lifted his chin—calm, reserved, but completely unreadable.

The room tensed.

******************

The banquet was all elegance and polished wine… until the challenge was issued.

Lord Jirald Ritault stepped forward, raising his glass slightly before speaking.

"Rein-san. Surely, as a fellow man of discipline, you wouldn't mind indulging a tradition as old as the noble houses—an Arcane Duel."

Gasps and whispers flared.

"An Arcane Duel?"

"Here?"

"In front of everyone…?"

Rein (Ainz) narrowed his eyes. "I wasn't aware such things were custom at exchange banquets."

Lady Talessa Valierrin smiled from her dais, like a viper under velvet.

"Not required, of course," she said sweetly. "But encouraged. A test of composure, not destruction. You may set the terms."

Ainz internally:So this is it. They're pushing for a spectacle. They don't think I can hold up in a live duel… and if I refuse, I'll seem like a coward or a fraud.

He glanced at Narberal.

She gave him the smallest nod.

Do it. Humiliate them. Politely.

Narberal stepped forward.

"Rein-sama does not need to dirty his hands."

Gasps rippled across the crowd.

Baron Xevric chuckled. "And what is this? A maid as champion?"

Narberal's gaze turned to him. Empty. Disgusted.

"You may choose your opponent. Or I'll take volunteers."

Silence.

Then, a young noble—Viscount Luharn's son—stepped forward, smug and overly perfumed.

"I've always wanted to see if these 'personal attendants' are worth the gold they're paid."

He drew a ceremonial blade and nodded to the officiator.

"Begin."

The noble lunged in with trained footwork and a Tier 2 enchantment on his blade—[Piercing Edge].

Narberal didn't even blink.

"[Electric Javelin]."

A thin arc of lightning streaked from her fingertip—not toward his body, but directly at the blade.

The noble's sword exploded in his hand.

Before he could shout, she was already beside him.

"[Paralyze Touch]."

He dropped like stone, body stiff.

Narberal adjusted her gloves. "Boring."

The officiator cleared his throat.

"…Victor: Lady Narberal Gamma."

*******************

"She's… brutal."

"She didn't even move until the last moment!"

"Who is this Rein to command someone like that?"

Fluder Paradyne watched with renewed focus.

That was controlled. Focused. Not showy. That's military-tier spellcraft.

Lady Talessa stood. "Well, it seems Rein-san's attendants are formidable indeed… but surely, he would not hide behind them entirely?"

Rein stepped forward

"Begin!"

Sir Darnic activated his ring—[Kinetic Barrier]—and charged in, blade glowing with a Tier 2 boost.

Rein didn't raise a spell.

He stepped aside at the last instant.

The blade struck nothing but air.

Ainz raised one arm, calm as morning mist.

"[Flare Spark]."

A simple Tier 1 cantrip. It hit the blade's enchantment at just the right angle.

The sword sputtered.

Darnic swung again.

Rein caught the blade—with one hand.

Gasps.

Then, with a single motion, Rein twisted the sword free and tossed it out of the circle.

"[Gust]."

The lightest spell. Just wind.

Sir Darnic was pushed backward—hard. Enough to stumble, fall, and land flat on his back.

"…Victor: Rein."

Whispers. Laughter. Disbelief.

"Did he just—"

"With Tier One—?"

"He didn't even look serious!"

One noble whispered through clenched teeth, "They followed every rule. And still made us look like fools."

Lady Talessa's fan snapped shut.

"So… that's how it will be."

Fluder smiled to himself.

Not just magic. Precision. Deep calculation. He didn't win with strength. He won with restraint.

***********

The once-grand atmosphere of the Magical Exchange had curdled into quiet, furious despair. The nobles who had orchestrated the evening now gathered in a private salon, its silken drapes drawn tightly shut. No more music. No more laughter. Just the low hum of whispered humiliation.

Viscount Ameryn stood near the hearth, nursing a goblet of wine that had long since lost its taste.

He spoke first, voice low and cold.

"He cast a single spell. Just one. No chant. No staff. And it annihilated our dueling platform."

He turned toward the others, gaze haunted.

"And when Lord Rendor drew steel… he parried the blade with his hand. Bare. Effortless."

No one corrected him.

Because they had all seen it too.

"And she," Ameryn continued bitterly, nodding toward the scorched ruin of the dueling floor visible through the crack in the salon doors, "—his companion—reduced a noble heir to cinders. Not even a corpse was left for mourning."

Baron Xevric, once so smug, now stared into his untouched glass. His knuckles were white.

"She didn't even hesitate," he muttered. "She said, 'You are beneath him,' and then cast [Lightning]. It burned through six layers of magical defense."

A tense silence.

Then Lady Talessa Valierrin, hostess of the evening, exhaled slowly. Her elegant mask of poise now fractured.

"We offered them a stage to stumble," she said, voice like a dagger wrapped in silk. "And they danced upon it as gods."

Her words landed heavy. Final.

She turned from the window, eyes like winter glass.

"We questioned his background. His pedigree. His loyalty. And he gave no answers."

"Because he doesn't need to."

"Because he knows," she hissed, "that we can't touch him… not through tradition. Not through etiquette. Not through politics."

She looked at the nobles one by one.

"Do you know what that means?"

Baron Xevric clenched his jaw. "He's untouchable."

"No," Talessa said. "He thinks he is."

And then—finally—she whispered the words none dared say aloud until now:

"Then perhaps… our next move must be made outside the rules."

The room stilled.

Eyes turned. Apprehension warred with temptation.

Ameryn broke the silence.

"You mean… assassination?"

"No," Talessa replied. "Not yet."

She crossed the chamber to a cabinet and drew out a sealed scroll—an unmarked communique from a very distant land.

"We start with information. There are people who deal in the unknowable. And they've been very interested in this 'Rein'… even before tonight."

She placed the scroll on the table.

"We find out who he really is. What he wants. And if he's a threat… we deal with it quietly."

Lord Carden muttered, "If he's a sorcerer planted by another nation—"

"Then he's already dangerous."

"And if he's not?"

"Then we make him one."

A pause. Then nods.

Slow. Reluctant.

But the decision was made.

The rules had failed.

Now it was time for shadow.