Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Albedo threaded a needle, her eyes trained on the tiny loop in concentration. Her ruby lips pursed, almost as if she had eaten a lemon.

She substituted the lack of thread with a strand of her own hair. Yanking out her glossy strands pained her, but there wasn't much choice in the matter.

As Pandora’s Actor was the Treasurer, the valuables Demiurge had managed to accumulate were entrusted to him. Actually, it would have been beneficial to set aside some goods, but they wanted to test how deep the roots of corruption went. Pandora’s Actor had been instructed to meet with Lord Touch Me by any means.

Demiurge scraped together whatever fabric was lying around so she could stitch another protective suit. It was bothersome that only one of them could head out at a time, but at the same time they had to be resourceful.

As helpful as it was, it was unwise for Demiurge to continuously replenish their funds—they didn't know if there was an underground syndicate operating on the level of the Eight Fingers, and they certainly weren't going to try and get on their radar.

Pandora's Actor remarked that the acidity of the air made his skin itch and burn. Prolonged exposure caused numbness.

It was probably because they had never been exposed to pollution on this level that they were so susceptible—unlike the natives, who had developed a greater evolutionary resistance.

The only one specifically skilled in sewing, Albedo volunteered for the task. If Suzuki Satoru was the alter ego of her beloved, it would not do for him to wear tattered old rags. He deserved to clothe himself in the finest gold, the softest silk. Not this subpar rubbish.

Glancing up at Demiurge, Albedo couldn't help but wonder how he managed to see through eyes crafted from precious jewels. They glinted with anticipation.

"Are you offering assistance?" she snapped, tone dripping with frustration.

Solemn, Demiurge shook his head. "Regrettably, I lack skill in mending. Any attempt on my part would result in wasteful ruin."

Albedo stitched quickly, forming perfect perforations in the fabric without breaking line of sight. “We cannot overstep the boundaries which were set upon our creation. Consider it payment in exchange for our unchallenged devotion.”

"A small price," Demiurge agreed.

It did not cross their minds for a moment that they should seek to grow. They were content with who they were, with what they could offer.

Their Creators had designed them exactly as they were, going through many drafts and iterations, removing undesirable traits, adding new ones. A long and tedious process.

Wishing to change a part of themselves was offensive. An expression of dissatisfaction was treasonous.

Although Albedo despised Lord Tabula, she did not believe she was lacking. To put it simply, she was specialized in some areas and not in others. There was no use bemoaning it.

Where she was weak the other Floor Guardians were strong, and vice-versa. They were made to balance each other out. As long as they had each other, all would be well. They would defend Nazarick as an impenetrable fortress.

Demiurge laid on the floor. He did not dare sleep on Satoru Suzuki's futon—it would be presumptuous for a lowly servant like him to sully his bed, modest as it was.

His head was buzzing and he felt it difficult to breathe. He placed a hand over his racing heart.

“Are you ill?” Albedo bit off the thread and tied the end into a knot.

“A bit dizzy. Dial up the air purifier.”

“It is already on maximum settings.”

The drone of the air purifier choked out a howl, as if pained by the tremendous strain of the effort.

His headache worsened. Demiurge closed his eyes and regulated his breathing. It was best to conserve energy.

“You haven't eaten in two days.”

“I know,” he responded, his tone detached.

He heard Albedo rise, the floorboards creaking under her clicking heels as she beelined to the kitchen. She had a way of walking delicately despite being a Nalfeshnee, a species known for their brutishness.

She returned in seconds. Something pressed against his lips. A straw.

“Drink up, or else you won't have the option to do it willingly.”

He turned his head. “No, thank you.”

Albedo grabbed his chin and forced him to turn back.

“Eat. Before I shove it down your throat. This is a mercy, I assure you.”

Anger flared in his expression. He was not accustomed to being on the receiving end of such treatment nor would he allow it to become a reoccurring habit. He jerked out of her grip.

“Albedo, please respect my decision.”

Albedo frowned. “Why? Is it the taste? I hate to break the news to you, but everything around here has gone to shit, so there's no point in complaining. If this is what we have to endure to return to Lord Ainz’s loving embrace—”

“It's not that, Albedo.”

She paused, raising an eyebrow.

Demiurge looked out of place without his signature grin. It was unnerving. “Lord Touch Me exists in this world. Lord Ainz did prior. Based on what we know, the other Supreme Beings must also be here. Therefore, Lord Ulbert...”

“You wish to find him.”

He nodded, pushing the straw away while she was distracted. “I have to know…why did he go? Why did he leave us? Did he tire of us? Were we unworthy? Did I disappoint him?”

Albedo's face went rigid.

This was precisely why the Supreme Beings needed to be eliminated. They were a distraction—to both Lord Ainz and the denizens. They would drop everything just to hope to see them again. They were beyond a nuisance, they were a threat to Lord Ainz. If he or one of the servants let down their guard they could be killed. Who would protect Lord Ainz then?

Why, it could be worse than having an invader make it all the way to the Throne Room—that kind of distraction would leave NPCs distracted and her beloved woefully unprotected.

"What will you do if Lord Ulbert rejects you?"

She knew she was supposed to offer words of comfort, even if they were empty, but she could not bring herself to lie. She wanted to throttle Demiurge, bring him to reason. But if she couldn't do that, the next best option was to sow the seeds of doubt.

He smiled bitterly. "There is always a way to make amends. Some can be a little, ah, unconventional. But I will take my chances. I'd rather know the truth than live in ignorance."

Albedo pressed her lips together, a knot of anxiety forming in her chest. She knew exactly what Demiurge meant by ‘unconventional,’ and it worried her more than she cared to admit. It wasn't what she wanted to hear, but it was certainly the answer she expected.

“I will help you search for him.”

Demiurge blinked in astonishment. “You would do that? Are you not going to search for Lord Tabula?”

It was a suspicious move, especially considering that one's Creator ought to hold priority over all other Supreme Beings. But Albedo felt she could get away with it since Lord Ainz altered her settings.

“In due time, yes. But we are allies. As the Overseer, it is my duty to ensure that the Floor Guardians are taken care of.”

How selfless. Demiurge was taken aback. Was this the strict and callous Albedo he knew? She was a perfectionist, always one to criticize.

In the past, she had advocated for Shalltear, Pestonya, and even her own sister Nigredo to march to the gallows when they stirred up trouble.

While Demiurge agreed with her assessment of Shalltear, he did not share her sentiment with the latter two. They were programmed to be sympathetic, at least to an extent. Of course, they would have to face punishment of some sort, but not execution.

Their crimes were hardly detrimental to the plan. Babies were hapless creatures with zero sway over geopolitical strategies and their survival did not expose the nefarious machinations of Operation Gehenna. They could easily be reinstated back at his ranch anyway—it wasn't like he was strapped for feed.

His mind began to wander. That was the issue with those of higher intelligence. The train of thought was always in motion, switching tracks and weaving through various stations. They never lingered long.

Wary of Demiurge’s suspicions, Albedo cleared her throat, distracting him from his thoughts.

“Now, would you eat up? You wouldn't want to starve the body Lord Ulbert gave you.”

Demiurge took the packet and drank the strange gelatinous mixture. He grimaced; the taste was indescribably foul.

He noted the chemical composition. If this was all it took for adequate nutrition, perhaps he could do the same with his flock of Abelion Sheep.

He dismissed the thought. It would be far more enjoyable if they had their limbs hacked off and served back to them for supper. This was too merciful, too easy. It wasn't fun.

Albedo watched to make sure he drained the entire packet.

“Good. Now I won't have to worry about dragging your limp body around,” she remarked dryly.

Demiurge chuckled. “That would never happen. I was just putting off my needs until later.”

She rolled her eyes, but a wry smile danced across her lips. “Whatever.”

They shared a small moment of camaraderie together.

These were rare, as back in the New World they only met to discuss plans and praise Lord Ainz. But here, without the burden of strategizing for military operations, policy making, and patrol, they had all the time in the world to find common ground.

For a brief moment, Albedo wondered how their relationship could have been without their responsibilities and formalities. She'd never laughed, much less joked with anyone, not even her sisters. The realization gave her pause. Was she not close with anyone?

“Albedo?”

She sighed. “As much as it pains me to inform you, I'm still here.”

“Are you scared? Of what Lord Tabula might say?”

Projection? Albedo ought to try the lottery. Demiurge, the self-assured archdevil, being this uncertain? He was typically the most confident, having already anticipated every possibility and laid out the proper groundwork to tackle each one. He seemed lost.

But if he was seeking guidance from Albedo, she would not be of much assistance, only happy to mislead him. This was a start, a small crack. She'd work him slowly until he fell to pieces—and she'd reform him in her image, into a creation that could only serve one Supreme Being.

But until then…she'd humor him.

“What makes you think I'd be scared?”

He gave a wry smile. “Your heart is racing. Unless you’re genetically predisposed to sudden bouts of arrhythmia. But I doubt that was written into your settings. Lord Tabula would not afflict his precious Creation with such a curse.”

Albedo rested a hand atop her chest. Perceptive as he was, he could not have guessed the reason as to why her body was reacting this way. The telltale pounding of her heart could not be attributed to fear of her Creator, per say, but to the litany of lies she would inevitably have to spout.

Spotting a lie was Demiurge's calling card. That being said, the drawback was that he had selective vision—and his spectacles were non-prescriptive. He could not see what he could not believe.

To him, Albedo had no reason to betray the Supreme Ones. Thus, he did not suspect that her actions were less than altruistic. He merely assumed she was putting up a brave front because she shared the same doubts as he did.

However, there was a certain limit, a level of suspicion Albedo would be wise not to toe, lest he suspect her of being compromised in his own misguided ways. Therefore, to avoid unnecessary conflicts, it served her well to provide reasonable pushback. Keep character.

She snorted and slightly redirected the topic. “And why wouldn't he?”

“He loves you. Or I should hope so.”

Albedo made to kick at the archdevil for his teasing.

Clang! She was refuted with his tail. He grinned as she fought it off with her heel.

“You don't know the first thing about him.” She crossed her arms. “He made his choice a long time ago. If he wanted to, he would have stayed with us.”

The way Demiurge studied her was unnerving. She wished Lord Ulbert hadn't written his settings the way he did. If not for that, he could have lived in blissful ignorance.

“...I suppose you're right. What use is there bemoaning what has been?” he said slowly, taking care to enunciate each word.

“Changing your mind so quickly?” she drawled.

He didn't answer.

Albedo worried internally that she had said something wrong. And she might have, for he fixed her with another of those indiscernible looks.

She returned the favor, flames of fury licking at her insides. Those were her trademarks, damn it! She wanted to crush his skull and extract his brain to discern his inner workings.

But she could do nothing. For now.

The park was eerily silent.

Humorously, this was the only area cleared of debris, enough to walk from one end of the property to the other without slipping and sinking into the earth. The purpose being to prove that notion that children could enjoy their youth even in this wretched era.

Except that there were no children playing on the slides or climbing the monkey rails. The merry-go-round was barebones, an immovable chunk of twisted and rusted metal grounded in the earth. Even the patina looked sickly.

It was far too dangerous to spend time outdoors expending energy and inhaling toxic pollutants. Ironically, most children were indoors—slaving away in factories with worse conditions. But at least they were being paid, as scant as their wages were.

All the equipment was disintegrating anyway. Acid rain had eaten holes in the cheap metal, washed away all color.

Pandora's Actor sat on the swings, swaying slightly. The metal chains squealed loudly, giving voice to his innermost thoughts.

He was only delaying the inevitable.

Lord Touch Me was investigating Lord Ulbert. He had let it slip that Lord Ainz was involved.

Withholding the truth from a Supreme One was forbidden, he could not have gone about it any other way. And without knowing the whole story he could not advocate one side over the other. What if Lord Ulbert was guilty? Should he stand by and let him face punishment? That was his only choice. He was a servant. He was not meant to meddle in the affairs of the Great Ones.

Most of all, he dreaded returning to the apartment and informing the others of the news. Demiurge would not take it well and rush to his Master’s side.

Albedo would align herself with Lord Touch Me, if only for pretenses. She would declare Demiurge a traitor, goad Lord Touch Me into eliminating Lord Ulbert and Demiurge, then finish him off herself after the deed was done.

Either way, the lines had been drawn. Albedo was already making her moves. Demiurge wouldn't be far behind, and if he knew what was good for him, he'd watch his back. Because once Albedo had her mind set, there was no arguing. She was as ruthless as she was determined.

And Pandora's Actor? He was still deliberating. His Father always told him of the importance of planning and exercising caution.

He stared down at the drag lines in the sandpit, his boots kicking up loose sediment, puffs of dust rising into the air. Stirring up and inhaling toxic particulates wasn’t exactly his greatest idea, but he didn’t care.

“You shouldn’t stay out so late.”

A man had taken a seat beside him. When had he arrived? A sight for sore eyes. His company was just what Pandora's Actor needed. Color seemed to seep back into his dreary world.

Beaming, Pandora’s Actor perked up. He tilted his head. “Is there a curfew?”

The man chuckled. “Only for those who aren't on the clock. Else they’d get fired for missing their shift. But I guess you have bigger problems than work."

Pandora's Actor nodded. “Might I seek your counsel, mein Herr? I find myself at a crossroads.”

The man placed a hand on his shoulder. “Sometimes it's better to go off the beaten path. Forge your own road.”

“...Lord Bellriver?”

“Yeah?”

A pause.

The man hurried to rescind his words.

Too late. Pandora's Actor had already sprung to his feet and bent to one knee.

“Bitte verzeihen sie mir, my lord. I did not initially intend to break character, but I must ask: For what purpose does this play serve?”

Lord Bellriver looked as if he were ready to bolt.

“...How did you know it was me?”

Pandora's Actor clicked his heels together and saluted. He shouted his answer with militaristic fervor. “Your aura, sire!”

“Aura?”

“Yes. Every member of the Great Tomb of Nazarick is surrounded by an aura. In this fashion, it is impossible for NPCs to mistake their Masters for enemies and recklessly attack.”

A beat of silence.

“Oh. Uh. You've caught me there. I really should have anticipated that. I expected as much from you, Pandora's Actor.”

“Not at all, my lord! It was a strategic move. You wished to advise me without the burden of formalities. Lord Ainz always expressed such a desire, but the guardians—myself included—have difficulty speaking so candidly. After all, one cannot speak to God without paying respect to his grace.”

Exactly on point. Lord Bellriver could not disagree. This level of intelligence was to be expected from Momonga's NPC.

“Well, you're not wrong in your assessment.”

Humbled, Lord Bellriver pulled off his gas mask and raked a hand through his unruly hair. Dark brown tresses looked as if they hadn't seen a comb in weeks.

“Ach so!”

Pandora's Actor gasped. A little too exaggeratedly.

The pieces fell into place.

The true identity of the invader who so brazenly breached the Throne Room and transported them was none other than Lord Bellriver!

How else could he have gone through completely undetected? The POP monsters would not attack a guild member and the hostile enemy defense system would not have been activated. Friendly fire was strictly forbidden.

Lord Bellriver smiled. Pandora's Actor's heart squeezed; his breath snatched from his lungs. Outside of his Father, he had never seen such a resplendent expression.

To a regular human it was a typical smile from an average middle-aged man. But beauty was in the eye of the beholder. Pandora's Actor did not view a human, he saw a Supreme Being, a member of the forty one. It was as if a thousand angels had descended from the heavens, trumpets blaring in celebration.

He collapsed to his knees, his forehead digging into the sand.

“O Great One! Our prayers have finally borne fruit! You have returned to us at long last! May your reign be eternal! We thank you for your benevolence!" His voice grew shrill and he bowed repeatedly, tears flowing down his cheeks like a raging river.

He might have dwelled a little longer on his first time crying, but all he could think about was how pleased his Father would be.

Lord Ainz would never be alone again. He wouldn't heave a sigh as he gazed longingly at the Avataras. He wouldn't have to search under every rock for his guildmates. He could finally enjoy the company of the denizens without seeing their Creators.

More relevantly, Lord Bellriver could aid in reeling Albedo and Demiurge in from spiraling out of control. He knew Lord Touch Me and Lord Ulbert—surely he could get them to see eye-to-eye?

Pandora's Actor heard Lord Bellriver chuckling lightly, but did not understand what he found amusing.

“Don't get your hopes up. I won't be able to stay long.”

Pandora's Actor’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. There was a searing pain in his chest. Instinctively, he placed a hand to check, but he could not pinpoint where it originated from or if the supposed injury had even been caused at all. It certainly felt as if a dagger had been plunged into his flesh, the pointed tip twisting as it sunk deeper.

Time froze. Even the wind ceased to whip around them. The merry-go-round let out a final screech as it ground to a halt.

“Do you mean to leave us again?”

“How should I put this…”

Lord Bellriver stroked his chin. He considered his next words carefully, not wanting to disturb Pandora's Actor's fragile mental state. He needed to lay it down slowly.

Then again, was there really a way to deliver it without tearing apart the fabric of his reality? Maybe it was best to tear off the bandaid.

“I'm…dead.”