Overlord: Crimson Sovereign

The air inside the secluded salon was thick with frustration and the bitter tang of failed schemes. Now, with their pride in ruins and their options dwindling, the nobles turned their attention to the one man in the hall who hadn't flinched, gawked, or scoffed.

Fluder Paradyne.

"Invite him," Lady Talessa Valierrin commanded, folding the foreign scroll closed. "Now."

Moments later, the salon doors opened, and the Grand Arcanist of the Empire—uninvited, yet unimpressed—entered with measured steps. 

"Lady Talessa," Fluder said in his graveled voice, inclining his head slightly. "Your message was brief, but I was… intrigued."

Baron Xevric gestured toward a chair with false warmth. "Master Paradyne, we're honored by your presence. Forgive the informality—these are troubled times."

Fluder took the offered seat without comment.

"Then let's skip the pleasantries," he said. "You wish to discuss Rein."

Lord Carden scoffed softly. "If you can even call him that. He flaunted low-tier magic like it was divine art. He humiliated our peers with Tier One wind spells."

Ameryn leaned forward. "Surely, a man of your experience could tell—he's a fraud, isn't he? No chants. No circles. No magical focus. That duel was a magician's stage trick."

Baron Xevric added, "You must've sensed it. There's no way that was true Fifth-Tier magic—"

"I did sense it," Fluder interrupted flatly.

The room fell silent.

Lady Talessa's eyes narrowed. "And?"

Fluder's eyes opened—sharper now, gleaming behind his old lenses. His voice lost all pretense of age.

"When he first stepped into the hall, I felt it. A quiet pressure beneath the veil of elegance. Not arrogant. Not reckless. Just… contained."

He leaned forward, his fingers curling over the head of his staff.

"And when he raised his hand and cast that harmless Tier One spark, it was like watching a god flick a pebble."

Ameryn looked disbelieving. "You're saying he's—"

"I'm saying," Fluder cut him off, "that your eyes deceived you. That you mistook restraint for weakness. I have studied mana resonance for over a century. And tonight…"

He let the silence hang before delivering his verdict.

"Rein wielded power far above Tier Five and maybe even tier 6. But more than that—he disguised it. On purpose. That level of suppression isn't accidental. It's mastery. Truly a Born Caster"

Baron Xevric paled. "Then… he let us challenge him."

"Yes," Fluder said, leaning back, his tone heavy with warning. "And he accepted… out of mercy. Or boredom."

Talessa's expression darkened. "Then he's more dangerous than we imagined."

"Indeed. And if you force his hand again," Fluder rose, adjusting his robes with finality, "you may not find the results so… merciful."

He turned toward the door.

"And I will not be part of a petty vendetta dressed up as patriotism."

As he left, the salon remained in stunned silence.

Lady Talessa's fingers drummed once on the sealed scroll beside her.

"Then we turn elsewhere," she said softly. "If we can't convince the mage…"

Her gaze drifted toward the darker windows beyond.

"…we find someone who fears his power enough to destroy him."

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

A cloaked figure leaned into the shadows, listening. The conversation between the nobles had not gone unnoticed.

The figure turned and whispered into a small crystal set into their palm.

"Rein confirmed. Tier Five confirmed. Local nobility are destabilized. The old man Paradyne is aware."

A thin, raspy voice replied on the other end:

"Understood. Continue observation. Slane Theocracy's next cell will arrive within four days. Do not engage until the priest-judge gives the signal."

Elsewhere – Back in Rein's private quarters

Ainz slowly unbuckled the ornamental fastenings of his crimson cloak, letting it fall with exaggerated silence onto the chair beside him. Narberal stood nearby, her usual stoicism intact.

He rubbed his temples—not from exhaustion, but from the mental whiplash of pretending to be calm under pressure… again.

Ainz's internal monologue:

Okay, okay, calm down. I didn't flinch. I didn't blow up the room. I caught a sword with my hand like a pro. But seriously—why a banquet duel? Why do nobles insist on passive-aggressive murder attempts masked in etiquette?

He paused, glancing at Narberal, who was already checking her gloves for dust.

And why did Nabe nuke that poor heir like she was swatting a mosquito? That was not the level of subtlety I was hoping for…

Outwardly, he spoke calmly.

"A fine banquet, wouldn't you say?"

Narberal bowed. "Their expressions were satisfying to observe, Ainz-sama."

Ainz sighed inwardly.

Great. That's exactly what I wanted—to traumatize nobles while still somehow playing nice. Well, at least nobody died… Okay, maybe one guy's dignity.

Back at House Valierrin

Talessa now stood at the map table, a dozen noble seals scattered across its surface. The others watched as she placed a small ivory token over E-Rantel.

" it seems like we failed to make the grandmaster against him. We push no further tonight," she said. "We bled enough pride for one evening. But Rein has now become visible. The court will whisper, the Academy will probe, and the Church…"

She tapped the ivory piece.

"They'll come hunting."

Lord Jirald leaned back in his chair. "What if they get to him first?"

Talessa's smile was hollow. "Then we'll either have gained a powerful scapegoat… or lost our last chance to control him."

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

The air in the salon hadn't cleared. Not even after Fluder Paradyne left.

He hadn't slammed the door, hadn't raised his voice.

But somehow… his refusal had hit harder than any insult.

Baron Xevric stared into the embers of the hearth, jaw rigid."Even he bows to that man now?"

Viscount Ameryn muttered, "We offered Fluder an alliance, and he gave us a sermon."

"He gave us a warning," Lady Talessa said coldly, still staring at the scroll from the foreign contact. "The kind only fools ignore."

The nobles looked at her. Waiting.

She tapped the scroll again, then unrolled a second piece of parchment—this one stamped not with a crest, but with a sigil burned in salt-white ink: a sun pierced by a sword.

A foreign emblem.

The nobles tensed.

"You're really doing it," Lord Carden said quietly. "You're calling them."

Talessa didn't flinch. "The Slane Theocracy already sent feelers. Their agents were at the banquet. They sniffed around before tonight."

Xevric's voice sharpened. "They're extremists. Zealots. You would invite that power into our capital?"

"They already are in our capital," Talessa replied, gaze icy. "We're simply choosing to use the storm rather than drown in it."

Ameryn's brow furrowed. "And if Rein truly is stronger than Tier Five—like Fluder claimed?"

"Then we let the fanatics break themselves on him," Talessa said, each word deliberate. "And if they fail… we declare him an international threat. The Theocracy's meddling gives us the excuse."

She met each noble's eye.

"We play innocent. We protect the Kingdom's pride. And either way… we win."

Later That Night — Outside House Valierrin

A shadow moved beneath a silver-spun balcony. Cloaked, silent, and far too graceful to be a hired thief.

The figure knelt by a sealed crate, extracting a small carved emblem: the same sun-pierced-sword sigil, now in solid obsidian.

He pressed it to a hidden seal under the crate's lip.

A whisper of magic pulsed.

"Contact established," the man murmured.

From the dark, a second voice answered—quiet and cold, laced with divine conviction.

"The nobles have called for judgment?"

"Yes," the agent whispered. "They ask the light to smite a devil cloaked in beauty."

"And so the cleansing begins."

Meanwhile – Fluder Paradyne's Tower, Alone

The old mage sat in solitude, ink drying on a fresh scroll. A single phrase glowed on the parchment:

"Rein. Suppression Class. Tier 6+ Detected. Incantation Delay: None. Staff Channeling: Absent. Threat Level – Incalculable."

Fluder leaned back in his creaking chair, staring into a crystal orb that pulsed gently with stored memory.

Inside it, frozen in arcane time, was the image of Ainz catching a sword with one hand… and then smiling faintly as wind spell pushed his opponent off the platform.

"He could've shattered the entire hall," Fluder whispered. "But chose restraint."

He felt it again—the weight. That subtle pressure only master-tier mages could detect.

Fluder pressed two fingers to his brow.

"They think he's a mystery."

He narrowed his eyes.

"But I've seen gods. And he walks like one trying to forget he ever was."

Final Scene – In a Noble Crypt Beneath the Capital

The torches flickered, casting long shadows across old stone and gilded coffins. A noble in gray robes knelt before a hooded priest.

Between them, a crystal vial shimmered—filled with blood scraped from the dueling arena.

The priest whispered an incantation. Holy script flared over the vial… then fractured.

Cracks spiraled through the divine spellwork.

The priest recoiled.

"This is not blessed blood… it is blasphemy given shape."

The noble stepped back, eyes wide.

"So the rumors were true…"

The priest looked up slowly.

"Not a man. Not a monster. Something older. Something… wrong."

The crystal shattered.

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

The drawing room was silent, save for the ticking of an enchanted clock. Rein—no, Ainz Ooal Gown—sat in a high-backed chair, his fingers steepled in thought. The golden lamplight reflected off his silver-threaded cloak, but his eyes were shadowed beneath lowered brows.

Narberal stood at attention beside him, still in her disguise as Nabe, but her expression had hardened into something colder—deadlier.

Ainz broke the silence first.

"Report."

Nabe bowed respectfully. "Five men. Four stationed across rooftops, one near the alley two doors west. Formation suggests they are trained—not hired thugs."

She placed a scorched parchment onto the tea table before him.

"They intercepted a magical courier. I retrieved this before they could send it off."

Ainz looked over the parchment. Divine glyphs, lightly burned. He didn't even need to read it. He could feel the holy magic residue—its faint light like acid in his presence.

He read aloud, voice flat.

"Codename: Rein. Operation 'Shepherd's Flame' to commence upon priest-judge's arrival. Slane Theocracy classification: Threat-class Blasphemer. Engage only under divine signal."

He set it down.

And said nothing.

Albedo stepped forward from the Gate that has been casted. She hadn't been summoned—but she heard the report from Narberal and quickly came here. she felt the shift in the air. Her golden eyes flicked to the parchment. Her mouth twitched once.

Then, silence.

Her breath hitched once—then again. She forced it down.

Ainz looked up. "Albedo."

Her voice, when it came, was strained silk.

"They call you… a blasphemer."

One hand trembled at her side, the nails digging crescents into her palm.

Ainz stayed quiet.

Albedo's breath grew heavier. "Those insects… those cattle think they can accuse Ainz-sama of heresy? They dare put a label on you? You, who embodies dominion itself—"

Her voice cracked. Her wings twitched violently once, but she gritted her teeth and dug her heel into the carpet.

"Say the word," she rasped. "Give me a name. Give me a gate spell and I'll slaughter them so cleanly even their gods will kneel in apology."

Ainz raised one gloved hand slowly.

"No."

Albedo's rage hitched again. It wasn't that she didn't want to obey. It was that it physically pained her to do so.

"But Ainz-sama—!"

"They are afraid," Ainz said calmly, cutting through the tension like a blade. "Let them be. Fear is a valuable leash. If they cross it, I'll decide how they fall."

Narberal's voice joined softly. "Ainz-sama… they're coordinating with House Valierrin. The same estate where the duel occurred. I followed their trail to an old cathedral. Sealed with divine wards."

Albedo scoffed. "Cowards. Begging their false gods to do what they cannot."

Her fists were shaking now. Not from fear—but fury caged by obedience.

Ainz looked at her, eyes softening briefly. "I understand, Albedo. I do. But if we act now—rashly—we become the villain they want. Let them reach further. Let them show me the full shape of their ambition… before I crush it."

Albedo's head bowed low. Her body quivered slightly.

"…Forgive me, Ainz-sama. I do not doubt you. But this… this restraint burns."

"I know," he said gently.

Silence returned, but it was not empty. It was thick with fire.

Then Ainz stood and walked toward the parchment. "We will respond on our terms. When they think they have the upper hand, when they are most certain they've cornered a commoner…"

He picked up the parchment and held it between two fingers.

"…I'll remind them what cornering a sovereign means."

Ainz looked at Narberal. "Continue surveillance. Do not engage. If you're seen, retreat and report. No unnecessary risks."

"Yes, Ainz-sama."

He turned to Albedo. "Begin preparing our next phase. Misinformation. I want them chasing phantoms. Let rumors spread that Rein is backed by the Argland Council. Or maybe a hidden faction of dragons. Something plausible. Something dangerous."

Albedo inhaled sharply. "With pleasure."

Ainz sat again, resting one arm across the back of his chair.

"They want to believe I'm a blasphemer."

He smiled—cold, regal, amused.

"…Let them discover what true heresy looks like."